Review (iFFY the Bad Man)


Most of my TV time is spend watching Channel V Korea. I’ve always admired this channel for its originality and quality, regardless of my lust for cute, short, white-skinned Korean women. So one of these days I stumbled upon this song by a young fellow who had tattoos on his neck! Immediately my fingers had the urge to change the channel but my ears told them not to. The guy had a genuinely good singing voice.

Later I found out his name was iFFY the Bad Man and the song was entitled “Do You”. As iffy as this guy might sound like (Yes! I just pulled a same name,same adjective for the first time ever), he is really good. The song is not my type at all but it did turned my head, enough to make me google the lyrics later on. I think it’s kind of ironic that the song got only just over 100k hits on YouTube. I mean come on; Jason Segel got more and he doesn’t even have a producer! The video is pretty decent and well produced. And for all those droolers out there, the girl is pretty hot.

Give this a listen and spread the word. The young lad from Harlem, NY can really use some popularity. At least enough to give him his own Wiki page.


Of Alcohol and Arabs


2012 is right around the corner. But somehow 31st December takes me back to the New Year’s Eve of 2010. The craziest start of a new year I ever had in my life. For it involves my Arab host brother,Palm Springs in the U.S. and lots and lots of vodka.

Now don’t get up on your toes Mr. Ibringchange.

I did not drink any, for my lips are virgin still. But this is a story I seldom mention to my peers because it’s worth getting anyone in trouble.

Me and H 5 hours before the incident

For Christmas 2009 my very kind American host mother took the family to California for a vacation. There we explored much to our amazement that getting inside an adult party was a piece of cake. So I and my very sober looking brother, who we refer to as H, got in at a very nice and fancy party at a resort on new year’s eve. Being neglected alcohol all his life, the party was H’s nirvana. His drooling face was enough to indicate that and even after my utmost neglect, he took one shot after another. We did had some chit chat with some really cool people at the party but his hands started turning into balloons when the waiter finally asked the sixteen year old for his ID Card. I will not fail to admit, deep down in my heart, I was at ease.

And guess what H did; he ran.

No explanations. No tear eyed guilt testimonies. Instead the hedonist ran for the door.

And I followed. For about 30 seconds I could make the hazy iguanas behind his T-shirt, but soon I lost sight of him. For he was hiding. Hiding behind a freaking bush. Covered in sweat he was whispering:

“Dude I don’t wanna go to jail. He’s after me. Save me. I am too young. Save me. Save me. They are coming.”

I looked behind and to our amazement no one was following us. A lucky escape perhaps. And being a guy who tends to be nice, I took him to his room, calmed him down and finally, relief and freedom. Freedom from the indulging affairs of my host brother who I had to care for that and many nights before. If he would have been caught that evening, man his life was at stake (okay this is me referring to the fact that my nutty host brother was indeed on a one year scholarship to USA). Good times.

H and the crew 5 minutes before the incident