I went to the Doze Green and Dave Ellis show, on Thursday at 5024SF.

This was made by Dave Ellis, it is a beat making owl, played it's own beat with paint cans, bottles and stuff inside the owl.


Most of the pieces were painted by Doze, except for like one collabo piece. Dave Ellis is a founder of the legendary barnstormers and a well respected painter and sculptor. He has shown in numerous museums and galleries. He is a well respected contemporary artist and a pioneer in the art world. He is also very nice and unassuming in person.

Doze prices are insane but his work is even crazier. Doze was the first artist that I saw and immediately thought, "That's what art should look like."

Doze came up doing Graff with the Rocksteady crew in NY. He is an originator, a legend and one of the most successful graff artists to turn to canvas.

These were mostly studies and sketches, but even these were like $5,000.

I have watched him do some of his figures in a video and a lot of it is done with one line. There is a cleanliness of form and a fluidity to the pieces that comes through and I think it can be largely attributed to a background in graffiti.

The show was cool, me and a friend actually went to go help out with the installation. My friend worked on that owl I barely helped with the meteor you can see in a later picture.

One of my favorite pieces.

Not one of my favorites, it's the trunk, not feeling it.

I guess there was so much work at this show they didn't even have space for all of Doze's paintings. There were like 3 or 4 that weren't even up in the gallery. One of them was my favorite piece from his solo show at the Jonathan Levine gallery in NYC. I should have asked to see it. Below is the meteor I helped build. I barely laid the top pieces on after fixing the frame of it though. It was nowhere near complete when I left after my one day of helping.





It was a great show, go check it out. 5024SF in San Francisco.

Something big just happened, the words reaching out through the phone grabbing my attention. But they didn't illicit that much of an emotional response. It should have, I think in any normal person they would have. I just feel kind of numb. Not numb from like oh my god I can't believe what just happened, but just sort of numb. It must be this detached existence that I live, capable of faking emotions but never really knowing if they are genuine, My grandpa died, he was a cranky bastard but I admire how he took care of 6 kids in a bad era to be japanese.

Those were war years, years where they looked at you like the enemy. He was a no yes boy. Which if you don't know is pretty bad ass. After the japanese were interned they were given these questionaires to test their loyalty. Two of those questions were the most important. The first one was "Do you swear to denounce your loyalty to the country of Japan and the Emperor." That is like a paraphrased version of it. So there were no/no boys, who were the serious in your face fuck you kind of guys. They either said no to this because A) they were like, fuck you, I never had any loyalty to the emperor I am a fucking American, or B) Why would I denounce my loyalty to Japan when America treats me like shit, I may not have had any loyalty to them before but I damn sure know who's side I am on now (I don't think anyone was found to be aiding the Japanese out of the people that were interned, but I can understand a feeling of I hope you lose, you guys are dickheads.) Then there were Yes/yes, which were the go along with it they will realize they are wrong let's not act up kind of people (I think this would be me, am a bitch.) Then the Yes/No boys. So my Grandpa said he would denounce Japan, he was an american citizen afterall and they were at war. The second question was "Will you bear arms and fight for America?" So, people said yes, they wanted to prove they were real citizens, they were not the enemy, they would go and prove it.

Other people said no, because first off why would I fight for a bunch of assholes that rounded us up, imprisioned us, and made us abandon our homes just because of the color of our skin? How fucked up is that? You go gather your family, bring only what you can carry, and most people had kids so they had to carry them and their luggage too, and then go sleep in these horse stables. Oh and also would you like to fight to protect this great country? My grandpa said no. He actually stood up in the mess hall and questioned the officers that were trying to get him to enlist. He said that he would not serve because the very fact that they were imprisoned violated the constitutional rights that they had as citizens and went against all the democratic principles that this country stood for. He had the balls to stand up in a military compound and question the people with the guns. To stand up for what he believed in. Afterwards people came up to him and said, "Why did you say that? They are going to lock you up." He turned looked at them and said, "What are you talking about? Look around you, we are already locked up?" Now those are balls I do not have, he was stronger than me, and you have to admire that in a man.
He was drafted to fight in the army anyway, but he served as an optometrist.

My Grandpa went to a university that is in high esteem today. He was actually disowned from his family because of this. His father wanted him to stay on the farm with the family. Instead my Grandpa understood the importance of a good education and he struck out on his own. Another situation where he showed some big balls. Disowned? Doesn't matter I am going to college. Thank god that he did, otherwise who knows what the family would be doing right now. We would probably be farmers in Fresno. But thanks to his gumption he was able to get a higher education, recieve his PHD and start his own private practice with two offices in hick ass towns. He was successful, active, in japanese american organizations, in organizatins within his occupation. He was president of the school board. This guy had his shit together. I just saw a plaque of his the other day that said president of the optometric society when we were cleaning out his storage space. cleaning it out like a precursor to his death. moving things, his things.

They said they arent having a funeral, they said they werent having a wake. My mom wasn't even crying, she said my grandma is fine. I think it was the slow deterioration, his mind slowly losing it's grip, accusations that made no sense, illusions that didnt exist. Even before that he wasnt very loveable though, he was rough around the edges, held grudges, he was gruff, grumpy, surly. but you have to admire what he did, he raised an optometrist, a doctor, a professor, a buisnessman, a teacher, and a state worker. he kept them fed, none of them fucked up their lives and that in itself is pretty amazing. my mom said he was never the same after he had that stroke. this was way back when he was younger, he was like 40 or something, I never knew him prestroke, but he was never the playful grandpa, you never really ran up and jumped on his lap, a pattern of detachment, leading to a simple acceptence of his passing. Everyone seems to be taking it well saying it's better, he is at rest. It's just so unmovie like, non dramatic, a life gone like a bump in the night. a small blip on the screen, which is what I guess we all are. This is dedicated to my grandpa George, thank you for all that you did, for ensuring the future of this family, for being strong in hard times to be strong.

(This piece may have two different tones, one was written before the funeral and left private, before I learned some stuff I didn't know. The second tone was just written today after I re-read the piece, added some, and decided that I would share this piece. I haven't re-read it as a whole so I don't even know if it meshes together, and I don't really care so yeah whatever.)

So I don't really use this anymore

But I just signed on and whenever I do I just see comments about my post about slanty eyes. For some reason this got a reaction.

so here is my reaction from another blog I have.

I seem stupid.

Haha, Apparently I seem stupid. Well not apparently I kind of knew this. If you have read anything written on here you would come to the same conclusion. If you equate intelligence with posts about defecating penguins...well, then I guess you can't judge intelligence very well and we should get along just fine. Pull up a chair, the tea party is just getting started.

Anyway, I was checking my junk email account over the weekend and found an email saying that someone had posted a comment on the mirror of this blog. By mirror of this blog I mean the same page except not updated and almost forgotten, I made it exactly for the reason that this post was born, so that non-xangians could post comments. The reason it has become abandoned, dilapidated and retractable..wait scratch that last one, is because I can't get pictures to show up without them being sliced in half and well if you can't fit a whole picture of me posing with my trophy at the thumb wrestling tournament, then really, what's the point?

At first I giggled with such glee and intensity that my neighbors stomped on their floor to quiet me...but then I read the comment and my heart nearly shattered into thousands of pieces and the tears wouldn't stop flowing no matter how hard I tried to dam up my tear ducts with duct tape, isn't that what duct tape is for? So, the comment came from a post I made a really long time ago. Here is the link to the mirrored site. http://toemah.blogspot.com/2006/12/blog-post.html

So here is the new comment that burned me to the core and made me re-think everything in my life and what I hold dearest.

"you seem stupid.
newsflash: Asian people have "slanty" eyes. drawing them as such isn't racist.

you tried to come off as an edgy commentator and failed miserably."

Haha, I was smiling when I read this, I thought it was an awesome comment and I thought my dear friend anonymous nailed it on the head.

But then I actually re-read my entry and just had to pull some stuff out of it Allow me to quote myself.

"The questions are mostly only interesting to hyper sensitive asian american studies scholars or racists though. Oh and I guess people that like to take really small things and turn them into big arguments might find this discussion interesting."

So I make this statement in the first paragraph. Basically saying let me make a big deal out of nothing, not saying let's burn all of his work!!! How dare he, that racist bastard!!??!!

"Is it insulting that a non-asian is drawing chinky eyed scantily clad women in revealing outfits almost fetishsizing them? Is the equivalent of this me drawing african americans with gigantic lips sitting on a fence eating watermellon? Or Mexicans wearing sombreros sweating in a field? Probably not, but does the race of the creator limit what they can draw and how they draw subjects? This is where I think it gets tricky. Of course you can't limit what an artist draws or say that only asians can draw asians or be influenced by asian art. I agree, and I feel like I have little to support any other view than this. But at the same time the argument about this exists. Can I as an Asian American male write a novel where the main character is an African American and not be seen as perpetuating stereotypes and broad characterizations? I guess if I am good enough and aware enough I could. But what do i really know about african american life, why should i even be weighing in on this. Any portrait that i paint must be influenced by who I am. Or am I wrong, does literature and art have a way of reaching across the boundries and the process of creation is colorblind. In truth, Simon might actually know more about Asian culture than I do, does me being Asian give me an automatic pass, when I write about Asians? I guess it would kind of have to but can you kind of see what I am talking about?"

I feel like I am asking more questions than making steadfast declarations. I barely even say or commit to a side, kind of just raise questions that I think could be discussed. Key word, could, not should, but could. I never say his eyes are the worst part, although I think they are. Asian eyes can be drawn as something besides thick black lines. The problem for me would be the overall picture, the eyes plus the situations the girls are placed in. Sexy Asian nurse bending over? Could be seen as offensive, that's all I was saying, I was actually asking is it offensive, not even saying it was.

"I am purely approaching this as an antagonistic thin skinned, race card playing person. The devil's advocate, the political asian that organizes the boycott of abercrombie and fitch and the ray fong shoe. I just wonder if this is something that would be taken on as a cause of these people."

Again I say that this isn't an issue I lose sleep over, just something that I think my professors could rally against, because, that's what they do, protest the smallest perceived slights against the Asian race. Because they are racist and hate the establishment. That kind of comes with the territory when you are an ethnic studies professor.

"Does race factor into what an artist can create and whether or not it is seen as offensive. I like Simon's prints and i would consider getting some, but I think that I might feel better if they were done by an asian. That's just me though people can obviously look past who created it and I think that in reality they should. I just have this jumbled idea that somehow someone could argue against his art and his representations of asian women, but I don't know if they wold have the same reactions if he was asian. Do you think this is true or is it just me tryin to think like an angry asian american studies professor? Did any of this make sense or was it all as mashed up and jumbled together as it felt for me as I wrote it. I didn't proofread it either so that could add to it, I think I said the same thing 5 times but who's counting right? Was this even close to an interesting issue or just pure madness that makes no sense at all."

The top bolded part is the main question I was asking. Does the race of the creator or artist have a factor in the subject matter that they tackle? Would it be weird for me to only paint African Americans, in slightly stereotypical ways? Do you inherently assume that I am portraying stereotypes because I am an outsider painting things that do not stem from my own self? Or does the art itself break through who the artist that created the work is? See what I was going for? This thing wasn't focused on the mere fact that Tokidoki paints his girls with thick black lines for eyes. I don't think anonymous really understood what I was talking about. I feel like anonymous was a Tokidoki fan and got butt hurt because I mentioned their idol Simone. The "newsflash" part was fucking awesome though. Haha, that is like the douchiest thing to say. Newflash buddaaay...

I also don't get the edgy commentator part. I mean I was drinking mountain dew while piercing my tonsils and riding my bmx bike while writing that post is that what they mean? When I spilled my dew was that when I failed miserably? Or is an edgy commentator like Bill O'Reilly or Rusch Limbaugh? If edgy means retarded, evil, and full of hot air, I should be thankful I failed?

Anyway thank you anonymous, I will try and be less edgy next time that way I will not fail miserably, I will also stay tuned for all of your newsflashes, in case something important comes over the airwaves, keep me up to date budaaaay. This is an APB for anonymous, I love you...

Ok so above was the reaction to the first comment. Below is the second one.

" Wow, you're a pretentious, politically correct twit. You're not clever, and you're simply shooting yourself in the foot."

again from anonymous, you sultry, sultry bastard. First off let me say that you are right I am far too politically correct. If you read my writing you can tell that I am very serious and I find my self to be the most cleverest person ever. I don't know how people even find this blog, because I haven't written on it forever, but jesus you Toki fans are out of control. (I left jesus with a lowercase "j" how is that for politically correct suckaaaas) But hey whatever, I wish I was more clever so I could come up with more to say, but seriously, you may want to re-read the entry, or the highlighted parts. Thanks for stopping by and caring enough to comment on a crappy un updated blog though. Cheers mates!!

I sit alone in this office. Surrounded by people that I can not relate to. I can't even speak to them without becoming annoyed. Where did you just say you came from? The Liberry? Are you fucking serious? The Liberry? They say things like, "You know I think that when daylight savings takes effect it should start getting brighter earlier." I just moan and angrily mutter to myself, yeah that's kinda the whole fucking point of daylight savings.

They sit at their desks, the perfect examples of uselessness. They speak in error ridden sentences with ghetto accents. Bills becomes beels, I don't have any, becomes I aint got none. Ask becomes axe. My headache becomes larger. There should be an office language, that is different than your I'm at home chillin with the folk language.

Plate tectonics

It was a small ripple thirty years ago. A small ripple, that lead to a small crack and with time this crack and this ripple turned into a rumble and a crevice. The two halves being shaken apart, the seams breaking and the clasping of the formerly conjoined joints, began to dissipate. The ripple that was constantly there, starting from a small point and spreading out farther and farther until it enveloped the entire area. There was no escaping it, no ignoring the shimmering of the once calm ground, the tremors and the small bouncing boulders made it clear that while you can learn to tolerate such a ripple, in the end it becomes to much to bear.

The way that you have to delicately carry the plates when a larger one hits, the bracing of the table so the glasses don't shatter on the ground. Inhabiting such a place is a hassle, a hassle that some endure but not forever. I can understand why one would leave such a place but at the same time it's hard to let it go. This place that saw so many things despite it's rocky foundation. There was once happiness in such a place, a sense of calm derived from routine. Overlooking the imperfections, hoping one day the place would stabilize itself. Of course it never happens like this, you would have to knock down and rebuild from scratch. So most people would rather just walk away. Maybe not rather walk away like a clean cut abandonment, but a forced exodus, a feeling of I can't handle this anymore, this place is not safe, and it is not safe for me.

There were several attempts to stabilize the problem, but they always failed. The foundation would be stable for a couple months until the small tremors would start again, barely noticeable vibrations, the rocks kind of shaking back and forth, hopping ever so slightly. Signs that things were going to back to the way they were before. People were hired to try and halt the problem, save the place from falling apart, crumbling into shambles. They tried talking to it, reasoning, making it realize what exactly it was doing. Places like this don't listen though. You can talk at it all day and it will still do what it does. It can't do anything else than what it does. It's natural for it to behave so. They tried though and maybe some of it worked, but always for short spurts. Short spurts that made the place livable for thirty years. Which isn't that bad if you think about it.

But then if you do think about it you have to wonder about how many of those years were happy. How many were spent frustrated, cursing the tremors, knowing that they were slowly taking the place apart. Shuttered up in a sinking ship, a slowly disintegrating hovel. It must not have been that bad for them to have stayed though. I'm sure if it was much worse they would have left sooner. They never seemed that attached to it anyway. Not attached enough to put up with anything that horrible. Maybe it was just complacency, an acceptance of this as normal. The same steps in the same place everyday, the routine of stabilization. The charade of stabilization. It was more than that though, certain chains and ties that locked them to that place. Commitments and reasons that were too logical. Not based enough on do I want to live here, more having to do with we have to live here for now.

The non acknowledgment perhaps hoping it would just solve itself and when this doesn't work the confrontation of the problem and all that that entails. Blaming the place for coming apart, giving it ultimatums that you know it can never hold up. It's in it's nature to defy the choices laid out in front of it. It's like asking a bear to not be a bear. You can't say to it, transform yourself into something more desirable or I will leave you. It would look at you and say but I have been a bear so long this is all I know. I like being a bear, I feel like it is my lot in life to be a bear. Because though it may appear that this problem is a choice that is being made, it is apparent that it is not. It is something that is.

But even this is a cop out, because though it may be natural it is also a choice. It's a convoluted mess a twisted tangling web of rationalizations and contradictions. The bear thing must be wrong, it is more like asking a bear not to act like a bear. Not to change itself to an unatural thing but to change it's actions into something it is not used to. But the thing about the tremors that is different is that there is a cure. A cure that is a long process, a painful process, something that you have to want to do, be committed to. I guess a bear could be committed to such a thing if it knew it's actions would cause its life and the lives of other to be better. But it's not an easy thing, it's not a simple agreement that is made, it is a whole relandscaping of its life, a new phase and direction it must be willing to go for. The tremors refused to accept this choice, they didn't see it as a choice. They stood defiant saying this is who I am and what I do. I will continue to shake and you will either chose to stay or leave. With that the ultimatiums were flipped and they decided that they might as well move on. It wasn't an easy desicion but they figured that it was their only choice. It was sad for them to leave the place that they had loved, to watch it shake itself apart, withering away slowly, the walls falling upon themselves, the dust in the air.

No, Where are yooou from?

I was watching, "Last Comic Standing" last night. Not something I usually do, but they shut down our planned oil wrestling match, something about that's not appropriate for a high school basketball half time show. Whatever, they just don't get our art. So since that didn't go down I was home by myself all lathered up and bored and was flipping through some channels. I just wanted to share one asian guy's joke from last night, "It's hard being Chinese...because I am Japanese." I liked it, I laughed, I could be biased seeing as how I think anything an Asian says is funny. They say things like, put me down, how did you get in my house, are you wearing my robe? I just can't help but snicker at them. They're funny I tell ya. So yeah I liked the joke, I didn't like the end of his routine because he busted out the fake asian accent. Not really a fan of that one, I only use it in extreme circumstances. Usually when supermodels ask me out, I just act like I don't speak english and they leave me alone, so I can get back to benchpressing cars and juggling three chainsaws with one hand.

I busy, so sowy ladee, me no speakee english. Just typing that sentence made me feel dirty. I know what you're saying, it wasn't the sentence that made you feel dirty but the fact that you fell asleep on the couch lathered up in oil and your 12 cats shed everywhere. That is the reason you feel dirty. While you m'lady are wrong!!! I have fallen alseep plenty of times and woken up covered in cat hair without feeling as bad as I do about that last sentence. It's just I don't like resorting to that kind of humor. I don't know if you know this, but my humor comes from a highly sophisticated place, it is what I would call high brow humor. It should be enjoyed whilst sipping tea, one pinky in the air. Laughs should not be heard but light clapping and an occasional bravo can be muttered. A bravo and a good show sir. That's the type of crowd that gets my humor. No need to resort to racial stereotypes or phallic props for laughs. So if you don't have a monocole, you are not a Duke, Duchess, or any member of parliment I refuse to dumb down for you. You can use a dictionary or thesarus to look up the larger words but when you have to explain a joke it's just not funny. You stupid peasants can't even read anyway right?

So, yeah don't like the asian accent, not gonna go there for the laugh. Especially when people assume you have an accent anyway. Seriously, I have had people compliment my english. I turned around looked at them, flipped my queue over my shoulder set down my rickshaw and was like, excuse me? People are funny. There is a theory taught in Asian American studies, called the "Perputal Foreigner." It's not really a theory but a stereotype. It basically means that because of the way that asians look, people automatically assume that they are foreigners. Noone expects that you were born and raised in America. This can be countered or slighty altered by dress style, hair style, wrapping yourself in a gigantic American flag and siging the national anthem at all times, but in reality people will still probably assume you just got off the boat. Granted it won't be everyone, it's mostly the old people who assume such things, you know the kinda that had milk jugs delivered to their doors and have seen wars with asian countries, but the perception still exists. In truth there isn't much one can do, unlike a white person, asians can never truly become integrated into the mainstream white society based on their looks alone. Despite growing up sharing the same culture, the appearnce of an Asian will never be the preconcieved notion of an american. Eastern Europeans who may have arrived last year would be less likely to be questioned about where their country of origin is.

The conversations usually go something like this,
"Where are you from?"
"Well I was born in Seattle but I moved to this area a couple of years ago."
"Oh where are your parents from?"
"Chico."
"Oh where are your grandparents from?"
"Chico." I know what they are getting at but it's fun to drag it out.
"Oh I mean what are you?"
Now how could you not play with this question, isn't this just a question for the ages? I am so many things my friend, I am a dancer, a lover, a world class butter sculptor. If you really want to annoy them you just say American and never budge from that stance. I usually give it up though, after they start shaking their head and the blood vessels start to tweak on their forehead. I look them straight in the eye and tell them, "I am 1/4 Blue blooded gator, 1/4 Doberman, and 3/4 homo erectus." I usually giggle after I say erectus, before I say it again kind of fading off into my thoughts, erectus hee hee...

Now this isn't even really an insulting question for me. Maybe it should be but I don't mind, my math doesn't even add up for my answer anyway so I effectivley debunk two stereotypes at once. But it just seems kind of a strange thing to ask. I don't go up to white people and say, so what are you? No, no, I mean what ARE you? German? English? Irish? My ancestors probably got here before yours but somehow I am made to be the one who is the foreigner. I know it doesn't seem like it's that bad, it is actually just showing some interest right? Most people who ask that probably know that I was born here anyway. It's not really an issue with these questions, it does make one feel singled out or like you are being seperated from everyone else, but it's not meant to be in a bad way, at least I don't think so. The english one is waay waaay worse. Oh and another thing, I don't even get how white is a category. You aren't white, I mean you are but you have a country of origin, and it's not America. Somehow that fades though, you don't feel the need to ever progress past American or white. You probably would if pressed but it is expected that American not be my first answer. I listen to Lynard Skinner just like you buddy, I drink moonshine, sure I eat more rice than potatoes but that doesn't mean that I am less american. Shit, I burn crosses, and dress up in bedsheets, we can be friends. Ok at some point I had a point, might have lost it. Something about perpetual foreigner, assumptions about speaking english and the fact that people of any ethnicity that is not white is more prone to identify with their culture because of the fact that they are forced to recognize their differences in relation to the majority and mainstream white society that they inhabit within the united states. Something like that, maybe if I come back to this later it will be more clear and I can add stuff to it, or not whatever.

Edit: I TAKE BACK EVERYTHING I SAID. Apparently I am way off and so are my old professors. Maybe the times are changing. I was watching the news last night and there was a story about some guy that walked into a pet shelter or a pet sitting place and said he was a dog's owner. The shelter or whatever it was gave him the dog which as it turned out was not really his. So what shattered my world and made me have to come back on here and dismiss everything that I had said like a couple days earlier was the description of the guy. They said that he was either a white or Asian male. Whaaaaat?? They couldn't tell the difference? The people at the place talked to the dude as he gave them information about the puppy and convinced them it was his. Maybe he was happa? They showed stills of him captured from the security camera and he looked Asian to me. So we do have the ability to blend in? Mistaken for white? Crazy, maybe the perpetual foreigner is fading as asians become more and more populous in the states. Or maybe the witnesses were retarded. Either way, one of three things just happened, either an asian was mistaken for white, a white guy was mistaken for an asian or a happa was just split down the center. The world is changing it will not be long till we are all color blind and one big happy family. Probably not but whatever...

Ouch!!!

This is some of the craziest shit I have ever heard of, and coming from me that means a lot. Read this and return for discussion, or go cry in a corner clutching your balls while telling them to never leave you. http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/uk_news/england/merseyside/4253849.stm

Bitch is crazzzzy. Favorite parts of the story include, the friend picking up the testicle, placing it in his hand and saying, "This is yours." Who picks up a testicle and hands it back to someone? Was she like ripping it off that's fine, biting it, that's a no, no, I am going to give it back to him. You have had your fun for today my friend.

The fact that the testicle was placed in the mouth, then she was not able to get it down and so she spit it up on the ground. I can't fully grasp how one rips a testicle off through clothes barehanded. Did she rip it, as it fell down his pant's leg she snatched it up and threw it in her mouth? Or was it more of such an intense grab that it just straight ripped through his layers of cloth, creating a testicle bundled in undergarments, which she then unwrapped to feast on the tasty morsel within?

How was this guy able to not immediatley pass out. If I see my ball in someone's hand who was just standing there fighting me with me a second ago, I think I just faint. Not just the fact that she was holding one of your nuts in her kung fu style eagle death grip, but to then see said ball go into someone's mouth, on the ground and then have it placed back in your hand. I faint at the rip, I faint at the point it goes in her mouth, I faint when she spits it back on the ground, and I definitley hit the ground when that shit is placed in my hand. As far as I am concerned there are like seven moments within that story that I just hit the ground, just back of the hand over forehead, a slight gasp and I am down. I would have never seen her put that thing her mouth, I am down and out as soon as someone rips off one of my balls. Dude must have been in shock to make it to the point when that bloody testicle is placed back into his hand and the friend says, "This is yours." How can this shit be real. I don't get it.

Also the quote from her saying that she isn't violent. Oh suuuure I believe you, I would totally walk around with my balls hanging out in front of you. Non-violent people always rip people's nuts off and put them in their mouthes right? She is freaking insane, to avoid this scenario I am going back to the chastity belt. I took it off last year because it was starting to chaff, but desperate times call for desperate measures. There will be no ripping off of the balls on my watch.