Anyway, I’m suffering from fatigue and a fever, so my writing is going to be all over the place tonight. Plus I’m tired from writing technical report after report (including one on the Microsoft Kin One/Two) and article after article (including one on Thailand’s monkey police), not to mention caring for a dog, working out (despite ZERO upper-body gains), and studying the foreign currency exchange market. That reminds me…
Forex(FX) Market
I’ve been testing a myriad of different FX strategies this week. For the most part, they’ve all failed. I may, however, have finally stumbled on a successful approach by trading cross currencies (those that don’t involve the US dollar) like the EUR/CHF (Euro/Swiss Franc). I’ve managed to turn my net profit from –249 to –213, and I’m going to continue trading this method next week, in the hope that it’ll keep producing consistent results.
Once and ONLY ONCE I’ve proven that I can consistently procure successful trades over an extended period of time, my family will invest $250 to $500 into an account for me. My goal then will be to quad+-ruple the money and eventually become rich. It could take weeks, months or even years before this day arrives, but I intend to keep studying and demo-trading the market until I beat it, no matter how long it takes.
This isn’t just about securing financial wealth for myself, though. My parents are in their 50s/60s, yet they’re unable to retire due to all the expenses incurred from raising my obnoxious ass. The consequences of my teenage exploits—juvenile detention fees, court fees, rehab fees, crashed cars and much, much more—have cost them a heap of dough. As they have spent most of their adult lives caring for me, it is now time for me to return the favor and take care of them!
You know, if your parents are still alive and they were good parents, then don’t you dare ever lose motivation. Your spouse may have left you, your kids may hate you and even the dog might despise you—which begs the question: why the heck do you suck so much??—but your parents are still there for you, so why not be there for them? That’s real.
Doggy Discipline
Dog trainers say you should give your dog a treat for behaving well and ignore it when it behaves improperly. That’s like saying, “If you don’t rob the bank, I’ll give you $5.” Uh… sure thing, Skippy, but I’d rather rob the bank and get $5000! I’m not saying their strategy is wrong, but I strongly believe that certain dogs are too clever for such a passive methodology. So here’s what I do:
For one, I don’t give my dog a treat for just doing what she’s supposed to be doing. When she does something truly excellent, then she might earn a little biscuit, pretzel rod or, if she’s lucky, a cheese-stick. Otherwise, she ain’t getting jack shit! You gotta earn your keep around here, Homegirl! You don’t pay rent, you don’t do chores and you don’t even clean your own poop. Come on now!
Second, giving a dog a treat every time she performs well is like giving children money every time they bring home good grades. If you suddenly stop rewarding their behavior with treats & money, there’s a heavy possibility their rambunctious behavior will reappear once again. Mind you, Roland Fryer disagrees!
Third, I’m the pack leader, which means I’m the boss. And if you fail to follow the boss, you will suffer the consequences, which may include a 24-hour indoor lockdown, the silent treatment and even me farting in your face. Well, I discovered that the last one doesn’t work well because dogs apparently like the scent of poop—God knows why!—but I’m working on finding a suitable punishment-replacement.
I’m a tough disciplinarian and I don’t play bullshit. If I ever have boys, for instance, I’m going to raise them to be real men. I don’t want them turning out to be scared, apprehensive punks. They will study hard, play sports, maintain a humongous real-life social network, have sex in HS—protected, mind you, but lots of it!—and lead successful adult lives. You can bet your ascot on that!
Anyway. “My” dog is leaving in less than 30 days and even though I will miss her dearly, I bet you anything she won’t miss me. Sorry, but I ain’t falling for the ‘princess eyes,’ LADY! You in Celebrity Dog Bootcamp for right now, homegirl!
Shoes and Success
Wearing good shoes coupled with nice clothes doesn’t equate to being successful. I love looking fly when I can, but most of the time I look like pure shit. My hair is unkempt, my clothes are stained and my fingernails have been chewed/bitten-off to death. This sadly gives me the appearance of a bum, when in fact I am anything but one.
Don’t get me wrong. I’m all down with fancy shit, but I just hate being looked down upon just because I don’t have any. Instead of spending money on shoes, clothes and a haircut, I’d rather direct my loot toward paying rent/bills, building a savings account and, of course, funding my drunken weekend binges (nobody’s perfect!).
This reminds me of the story about the ant and the grasshopper. The ant spent all summer gathering food/supplies and building his anthill, while the grasshopper rode around the lawn in his pebble-mobile with 20-micrometre, acorn-shell rims, smoking on leaf blunts and flirting with cute grasshopper hoes. But when wintertime finally came, the ant could be found sitting by his anthill fireplace, smoking out his petite leaf bong and making steamy love to his Queen, while the grasshopper, on the other hand, was outside digging snow, trying to earn enough to pay his gas bill.
In life, you can either be the ant or the grasshopper. There’s nothing wrong with spending money on things you enjoy—cars, jewelry, pizza, beer, whatever—but don’t be quick to cast your eyes down on someone who doesn’t fit what you consider to be the standard for success. Because a lot of the time, the grasshoppers are the ones flashing their money and living it up, while the ants are quietly building their fortune, waiting for their day to let it all loose and retire! N u kno that’s right!
Speaking of which, today has been BALLER DAY! While outside with my dog around 10:30 or so at night, car after car passed by bumping hot beats. Yo… WHERE THA BALLAZZZZ AT!???? Having a car with loud speakers doesn’t necessarily mean one is a baller, per se, but to my no-car-having ass, you’re baller so long as you have wheels and music! An old lady in a wheelchair holding onto a boombox is a baller as far as I’m concerned! Bust that beat, Granny! 4 real though… I have no hate toward people who enjoy nice cars and loud music! Do what you do, playa!
--
Alright. That’s it. Night!
PS - My apologies to K97.5. I discovered the reason for my poor signal reception: my piece-of-crap, 5-year-old analog headset! I installed a fake-ass aluminum antenna on it to improve signal reception, and so it’s working slightly better now. I need to gon’ head and upgrade to this beast right here.
No comments:
Post a Comment