Voice Over Dude:

In a world where nothing is what it seems....

A flash of a mans eyes (close up).

Voice Over Dude:

A place where up is down and left is diagonal upper-middle right...

A worms view 3/4 profile of the same man walking, in full stride.

Voice Over Dude:

In a commerical public area that bares no resemblance to any existing place...

A series of quick flashes,  A small mouth guard sack being clipped to a belt loop, magnetic badge being clipped to the right breast of a polo shirt, and some kind of black loafer being laced up.

Voice Over Dude:

Abi Rosa is...

Black background with big bold letters: THE LAST ERT

Voice Over Dude:

ERT Rosa dosen't play by the rules

Jump cut:

Rosa is in an office sitting in front of a middle aged African-American man.

Director Roundtree:

Rosa! I got two ERT's down on your shift and you're out there giving out band-aids like water!  Man, I'm getting too old for this!

Voice Over Dude:

No, one understands him not even his woman.

Abi Rosa is sitting in a car with his girlfriend.

Jump Cut:

Star:

I'm sorry Abi.  You're just to heavy, dude.

Abi Rosa:

I know, its just that, I've seen to much. 

Too many scraped knees. Too many cut or

mashed fingers.  Too many hours wasted on 

slow, slow report producing software.  My work

computer must have an hamster running a wheel!

Voice Over Dude:

Nothing can stop him from his duty.

Jump Cut:

Rosa is on a phone.

Abi Rosa:

I said order me some of those damn finger condom things!

Regualr bandages won't do.  You guys know this and you 

continue to play these games!

Jump Cut:

The camera is turning around Rosa in 360s at different orbits.  Voices are swirling around as well.

Abi Rosa:

You sound retarded. I'm calling E.M.S!

Roundtree:

I don't care how long the report is taking.

You clock out damnit!

Star:

Get away from me!  God, you're such a loser!

Abi Rosa:

The person who trained me for this job was cruel. 

I hated them, but they made me in to the best ERT,

that hasn't left or been fired!

Inexplicable shot of Rosa running in slow motion and screaming for no reason. Complete with heartbeat sound efx.

Voice Over Dude: 

Abrahan de la Rosa is Abi Rosa 

in Ray Bastardo's:

Jump Cut:

Rosa is pounding his fists onto a computer desk,

Abi rosa:

No! No! No!

Voice Over Dude:

THE LAST ERT

Jump Cut:

Rosa is at a bar with a mug of beer to his forehead. He has a black eye and a trickle of blood on the corner of his mouth.

Abi Rosa

And this, is my Monday

Jump Cut to Black:

Voice Over Dude:

A Pipe Wrench Fight production. A Ray Bastardo Film.  Coming soon to a bootleg DVD and bit torrent download near you.  Rated R, a hard R bitches!

I woke up, reluctantly to the sound of my scary doomsday alarm clock.  Had to be careful to wake up and not just turn it of and go back to sleep.  I do that a lot. 

What happened last night? Oh yeah, I made an ass of myself at the party.  What else is new?  That's why I never get invited to anything.  Ow, my jaw. Yeah, that's right I was using my face to block some guy's fist.  Damn, he got me good, but he really should step into the punch to maximize the power. Hey, if you're gonna do something...

Ugh, head throbbing.  When you take shots with out wincing you know that you're going to be in trouble in the morning.  The taste of liquor should sting a little.  You take a sip and you make a little noise, you make a little face, your "whiskey face" if you will, and all is well.  There are little failsafes in life, you just have to be willing to abide by them.

Wow, my head is swollen. What was the fight about?  I overstepped my bounds and paid the price.  That, guy thinks it was about some kind of grudge between him and me.  There is no "him and me", we don't exist.  It's all good.  I was way past due for an ass kicking anyway.

Getting your ass handed to you isn't always a bad thing.  It's like a violent pruning of your ego.  After a beating, comes a time of self refection.  Maybe, you're not the best guy in the world.  You probably should tone down the cocky-ness and pay attention to the things and people around you.  Perhaps, you should learn to fight better?

Pain is a pretty basic learning tool.  If you get hurt you stop doing whatever it is that caused said pain.  Fire will burn you, so don't touch it.  Disobey your parents you risk getting the belt.  Shocking yourself in the nuts with a stun gun? Not smart thing to do.  Simple stuff right?

It's emotional pain that is the real motherfucker.  No one can see the damage that has been done.  There is no Neosporin for mental scarring. No salve, for being stricken with the asshola virus.  Your only clue that something is up: irrational behavior.   The signs aren't always noticed by the victim.

I'm currently rehabbing a broken heart, bruised ego, and a crushed soul.  The details aren't important, at least not to anyone but me.  It's not anyone else's problem, so who cares, right?  We all go through right? I'm nobody special.  Mister Rodgers was wrong, sorry.

So, after taking on so mush emotional pain.  You start to earn for good old fashioned physical punishment.  The gym becomes a torture chamber and a beat down is a refreshing change of pace.  It's all apart of wanting to feel something, anything, anything at all.  Feeling good about anything won't work at this moment.  The good times are what got us here and we were deceived or left to fend for ourselves.  We jumped in head first and had real good time, but now that time was gone.  Even worst is when you to the math and figure that the good times were going to come to an end and there was nothing you can do about it. 

There were failsafes, and you ignored them all.  It all was too good to be true.  You softened up. You thought the crocodile could be trusted, and that fucker snaped his jaws!  Yet, you only have yourself to blame.  Fuck, you let it happen three different times!

So, now you sit in your room hungover, your head swollen, and somehow your starting to feel better about it all.  You're learning...

Going out and eating a whole "boat" of sushi, drinking numerous Thai beers, drinking one Kirin Light,  drinking one carafe of hot sake,  doing two shots of some kind of herb (no not that kind) infused whiskey, and picking of you friend's ultra spicy Thai dish is the best way to have a hangover.

Had my cards read by my dinner compainion.  When she was done with my first reading she had a look of confusion on her face.

"You're love life is fucked up," she said makeing a squinty look.

" You know that , already.  I already told you that I love someone, that will probably never hook-up with me again," I replied through a beer soaked raw fish haze.

She got more squinty, " no, its more fucked up than that."

She went on about the dark skinned woman that still has a hold on me and the like skinned woman that is with the skinny young man.  What it boils down to is this: most people have love triangles, however I have a love "pentagram".  This pentagram of mine must be the door way that the demon that torments me enters through.  Why, oh why did I ever touch that melted statue at my mother-in-law's house?  The amonia appearently wasn't enough cleanse me of the curse.

Wait.. Wha?

Nevermind

Oh, the second reading was all about how fucked up my finances are.  Yeah, cards are really stating the obvious.  There was also another attempt to read my love life.  The card insisted that it was all fucked up, but there was even more about  the  light skinned woman and the skinny young man.... hurm...

Well, off to Naples to make more friends.

Well, we are at post 100 and what have we learned?  What is this all about anyway?  Is this the story of redemption?  Is this the tale of an underdog that fights against all odds to have the life he wants? Maybe, this is the story of a young orphan, who goes to a special school and becomes the most powerful wizard of all?  Eh.. probably not, but that would be a pretty good story, right?

Hopefully, people come to the blog for yet another pompous point of view from someone who talks way to much about himself.  I deliver that 100 fold.  But, people like people that talk primarily about themselves.  Rap and Hip-Hop, for example, are genres loaded with artists that perform song after song about themselves.  So, I'm like a rapper, except I have no rhymes, no music, and no sense of rhythm. Like I said, other than all that other stuff I'm exactly like a rapper.

People wonder why I love comic books so much and I finally figured it out.  I want to be a hero.  I want to be just strong enough, smart enough, and powerful enough.  Here's the catch: I fail miserably at being a hero and most people don't want to be saved, anyway. 

I can't stand comics like Superman, Batman, and Ironman.  All three of those guys can do just about anything.  Batman and Ironman prove the point: if you have a shitload of money you can do just about anything you want.  Supes not only does he have every worthwhile super-power in the book, and he's an illegal and nobody seems to care.  I don't think that the U.S. should be a dumping ground for bastard Kryptonian children.  Oh, sure you guys say that its just one guy, next thing you know you got a supergirl, superdog, supercat, superhorse, supermonkey, and the whole bottled city of Kandor.  And, they say Mexicans are bad.

I'm kind of like Bruce Wills in Unbreakable.  I'm even a security guard, too.  So, I got the profession down.  I've haven't figured out my supporting cast yet.  I mean, I got the family, and co-workers.  It would be cool if I had a talking animal.  Captain Marvel (DC) had Talky-Tawny the Taking Tiger, which was merely a tiger walking up right dressed as somebody's uncle.  A talking tiger would be kind of boss.   But, what would he say…

“I’m going to chomp on your head Roy.”  

Then, there is the whole love interest thing.  The year that Marvel used Mephisto (Marvel's pseudo-Satan) to wipe Peter Parker and Mary Jane's marriage from the history books, my own marriage fell apart like fine china.  But, unlike Parker, I haven't accidently snapped the neck of my Gwen Stacy.  When you get involved with women it helps if you don't break 'em.  Of course, I never had a girlfriend thrown off the Brooklyn Bridge by a maniac with a jet glider.

God, I am such a geek...

Speaking of super-powered people, let’s talk about the finale of Heroes.  Man, is that show getting on my nerves.   

It's all like, "I'm Claire and I suspect that my dad is up to no good.  Oh, no my dad is up to no good, I hate him.  Dad saved my sorry ass so now I love him."  

That shit happens every season.  Then, they fucked up the three best characters.  Peter was like a super-power Swiss army knife and then his Pops had to steal all his kick ass powers.  So, all did this season, is fly around like his older douche-bag brother.  The choice to make Hiro's time stopping power start killing him was another suck ass move.  Even Sylar wasn't safe from lameness.  He spent the whole season trying to figure himself out.  Turns out Sylar like to dress up like his mom.  Plus, the "good guys" mind fucks him to makes him think he's Nathan Petrelli. What happened to the real Nathan? Deader than a door nail.  That's what happens when you sell your own people out, bitch.

I wanted Mohinder to start cocooning people again. He spent the season being upset that he couldn't bang his hot Mexican girlfriend anymore.  I know the felling, man.

The next finale I'm waiting for is the Lost season 5 finale.  I still love the show, but hate trying to watch with people who keep bugging me about what's going on.  

"I just don't know what's going on?  I am so confused.  What is Twittering?"

Some, here you go, a Lost summary:

It's a big joke for people who are high.

There goes another pointless blog.