Saturday, July 29, 2006


Dear God,

You're the best God in history. Although You constantly fling crap at me, You always did give me strength and wisdom to dodge it. Thank You for making me who I am, complete with my idiosyncrasies and all. You can continue doing what You're doing. I'll complain... but that doesn't mean I don't like it.


Monday, July 24, 2006

Boys gone wild

What in Jesse's name is going on in this world we are living in? The behavior of boys around me fall short of being good and noble, albeit it's what they claim to be. It's a terrible case of false advertisement.

One friend's boyfriend pees on her during coitus and claims to be too fucking drunk to remember the morning after. Another's suitor punched her in the face when he got turned down and called the girl a slut and said she deserved that punch. The suitor was not at all drunk. A very close friend doesn't care the girl who claims to be his girlfriend cannot correctly spell a four-letter word because she wouldn't need spelling skills when she's moaning in pleasure. A random boy claimed he was happy with his on-again-off-again girlfriend because he finally got his dream girl - tall and fair-skinned.

Goddamnyou boys. Has chivalry truly died? You measure your machismo with your coital track record. Well, that's not enough basis. Damn me for saying that... It's not a basis at all!

Don't get me wrong. I'm not some obsessed advocate of woman rights... But I do have strong feelings towards women empowerment. Hey, I love boys but only because they love me three-fold. No womyn must be sooo weak to be testosterone-dependent. I refuse to be a willing victim.

Yes, I whine... and whine... and whine. But I wouldn't be so whiney if I had nothing to whine about. Relationships with these boys must have a no-return-no-exchange policy. A guarantee that if they break our hearts, they must buy it.

Oh, and you know how boys degrade women by saying nothing comforts us more than a good dose of rumor and intrigue? Well, another story about me has reached my radar. Apparently, I engaged in another "group action" during one of our soirees in Laguna. Yes, I am, once again, a sex goddess for some. Some LimpDick decided he'd rather destroy my reputation than give me a shot at actually being taken seriously in a relationship. Who'd wanna be with someone infamous for being an easy lay, anyway. Bravo, dude. It appears you might have succeeded.

Oh geeesh. Boys are sooo lame. When will the real men step into my life?

This I got from Trinuhhh:
Fuck what you heard
And recognize what you see
I know you heard rumors
But you don't know the real me

Thursday, July 20, 2006

Started out with a Kiss

There's nothing like the first kiss. So I go around kissing every boy I want to kiss just to feel that toe-curling hurricane of my insides. (yes Mum, this gives you license to call your baby girl a slut now) It's also those first kisses that always always get me into trouble.

My love life is getting weirder and weirder. I don't know who's more creeped out with myself: him or me. It has become a talent, really. Creeping this certain person out. I do it without even trying. I exude the ability to make this person's skin crawl without even a bat of an eyelash. Haha. Hallelujah, I've done it again.

It's just so fascinating how those boys always give me the I love you-goodbye. One minute they love me, and they're scramming away faster than their Chuck Taylors can take them on the next. I'm actually getting used to it... expecting it, even. It's like, there's something strange about the guy if he stuck around after professing his undying love. Maybe, he's this major loser so so desperate to have a girl. Sorry buddy, not gonna be me.

Months later... I'm starting over. And still they say it makes me the queen of denial. Whatever. Tell me now... How did it end up like this? It was only a kiss.

It was only a kiss.

Shifting to 120

About three months ago, I thought I was in the most intense transpo accident I could ever be. Boy, was I wrong.

Last Wednesday, or Thursday morning rather, around 3AM, I finally learned my lesson: NEVER dare a driver to go faster than he is running. So, we were on EDSA, right about meters past the spot where that schmuck kicked me out of the car, when Melvir reminded Karlo to go easy on the driving. Me and my devil's tongue replied with a "Huh?! Wala pa nga yan eh... Di pa nga siento-bente eh." With that, Karlo overtook the L300 in front, or that is, tried to overtake. We hit the L300, then got sideswept to a cargo van.

The car stopped spinning perpendicular to the road, in the middle lane. I was fucking literally shaking! Minutes later, the cops and media came. Woohoo. The car I was riding was shown on TV Patrol. It was described as "3 sasakyan, nagkarambola sa EDSA." And I have not the slightest idea what karambola means. Haha.

It's different when you're sober and alert as an owl. You get to see, hear and feel everything. It was goddamn Grand Theft Auto in Rialto! Thank God Melvir was there. He wrapped his arms around me right before the first hit. And that made such a huge difference from the first car crash.

Say hello to me: The car crash magnet.

Friday, July 07, 2006

Big Fish

And so it's the last joke she ever told. The girl tells so many jokes that she becomes the joke.

I've been told more than once: I won't pass to be serious if I exerted it all my energy and in turn, I would never have the chance to be in a serious relationship. Touche. I will not argue with that. No one will take me seriously because I never project myself as serious. At least I'm not some emotional vampire who has a pathological stick up his ass. Oh yeah baby, feed on my happines. Suck it all out until I'm immersed in the same tub of misery as you. Pretty erotic, isn't it?

I gladly welcome misery into my life. The more miserable, the better. It's the fuel that drives me. I feel I am more alive and happy when I am miserable. And that, my friends, is just one of my infinite contradictions. I tried to be content with being happy. But I found myself sitting on a porch in suburbia, grinning with a lost stare. Not my idea of contentment, by the way. And sometimes, I actually want to thank you for taking a knife and stabbing me right where it kills.

I've said it before and I could say it many times more. You and I are one in the same. We complain about our lives not rhyming yet when we come so close to finding that right tune, we veer into a path that would give us more challenges so as we have a reason to whine and to cuss the world. And that's what confirms to us that we are real. When it hurts, it's real.

That's so poetic. That's so pathetic.