Friday, June 24, 2016

Other People's Love Stories #1: Courtship Smells Like Rose Water





There is no metaphor to my spacing of the letters. I think it's cute. 


I   s o m e t i m e s   i m a g i n e   t h a t   I   a m   j e a l o u s   o f  p e o p l e   i n   t h e   
e a r l y   s t a g e s   o f   t e n d e r   c o u r t s h i p .   I   s e e   t h e m   a n d   t h e i r   
i n f a t u a t e d   g l a n c e s ,   a n d   I   h e a r   t h e m   a n d   t h e i r  p u b l i c  
p i l l o w   t a l k ,   a n d   I   s m e l l   h e r   s p e c i a l   p e r f u m e   t h a t   s h e   
r e s e r v e s   o n l y   f o r   h i s   v i s i t a t i o n s ,   a n d   I   w o r r y   t h a t   s h e ' s   
r u n n i n g   o u t   o f   i t   b e c a u s e   h e ' s   s e e i n g   h e r   e v e r y   d a y n o w . 

It smells like rose water. 

I   n o t i c e   t h a t   s h e ' s   t a k i n g   m o r e   t i m e   t o   p o w d e r   h e r   n o s e   
a n d   d o   h e r   l a s h e s   a n d   h e r   b r o w s .   H e   s a y s   h e r   m o r n i n g   
f a c e   i s   j u s t   a s   a d o r a b l e   r e g a r d l e s s ,   a n d   I   s m i l e   i n   s e c r e t b e c a u s e   h e r   e x c e e d i n g l y   t h i n   b r o w s   r e m i n d   m e   o f   W h o o p i G o l d b e r g .   H e   a d o r e s   h e r .   

S h e   d e n i e s   t h e   a d o r a t i o n   i s   m u t u a l ,   a n d   I   a m   n o t   b u y i n g   
i t .   I   d o   n o t   r u m m a g e ,   b u t   I   h a l f   e x p e c t   h e r   t o   r e p l e n i s h   
h e r   v a n i t y   k i t   a n d   t h a t   G o d   d a m n e d   b o t t l e   o f   p e r f u m e   a n y t i m e   n o w .   

T h e i r s   i s   a   c o u r t s h i p   t h a t   s p r i n t e d   l i k e   t h e   u n d e a d   i n   
Z o m b i e   L a n d .   I t   w a s   m I n d l e s s   a n d   h e e d l e s s   a n d ,   l i k e   h o w z o m b i e s   h a p p e n ,   i s   l a r g e l y   u n e x p l a i n e d .   A n d   i t   i s   j u s t   a s m i l d l y   e n t e r t a i n i n g   t o   w a t c h ,   m o s t l y   b e c a u s e   o f   t h e   
s u d d e n   p a r o x y s m s   o f   c h e e s y   t h a t   w e   e x p e c t   o f   t h e s e   f r e e s h o w s .   

A n d   t h e n   I   r e m e m b e r   t h a t   I   h a v e   r e a c h e d   t h a t   a g e   w h e r e , a s   f a r   a s   r e l a t i o n s h i p s   g o ,   I   a m   m o r e   c a r e f u l   t h a n   I   a m   h o p e f u l .   S o   I   h a v e   e l e c t e d   t o   b e   h a p p y   f o r   t h e m ,   i n s t e a d .   

Friday, June 17, 2016

The Seven Annoying Facebook Posters (Introducing The Loser Meter!)

**Seven. Like the deadly sins. And in spite of this, I'm glad that Facebook doesn't have a Post On a Need to Know Basis in the fine print. I wouldn't have material otherwise. And before we begin with this playful list, I challenge you, my Dearly Beloved reader, to ask yourself this.



I am writing a post that will boost my Facebook posts, but that took longer than an erection on some pothead. That explains this repost. I wrote this in November 2010. It can use an update, but it's still relevant.




Seven. Like the deadly sins. I will be updating this post soon to include "The Sudden Expert," "The Nearly Faceless," and "The Spoiler." 





1. The "I Heart My Macchiato" Poster
This is usually accompanied by a picture of a half eaten banofee pie and a Tall Caramel Macchiato with their name painstakingly made visible on that one shot. I get it. You have hand-me-down taste. And it would have been so very special, so damned special if there weren't one billion of your social climbing kind out there. Underscore would have been. Stick to your calls.


LOSER RATING: This poster doesn't qualify. There's nothing wrong with this kind of poster, but a ratio of four Machiato posts to one generic post is doubtful.

2. The 20-year Old Kid and His Unsolicited Love Advice
I say grow up, get yourself a haircut, move out of your parents' house, start supporting yourself, and then tell me about it. If I wanted advice on that crazy little thing called love, then I'd get me a mother fucking fortune cookie. Or read the horoscope. Or buy me a Bob Ong book and then count the number of times he's been plagiarized by you little boys and girls just for the devilish fun of it.


LOSER RATING: Doesn't qualify. I'm not saying you're dumb. Far from it. I simply have no employment for your advice.

3. The "I Hate Your Guts, But I'm Too Chicken to Tell It To Your Face, So I'll Post a Shout Out Instead and Wait for the Comments Because I'd Rather Have Sympathy Over Courage"
They were mighty fluent during the last election period. And they can't get enough exclamation points. I had to import mine from China.


LOSER RATING:





4. The "I Have a New Post in My Blog, and I Will Be Too Cross-Eyed with Delight If You Guys Can Click on this Link Here."

Faggot, if we know you have a blog, and if we liked the shit you wrote about the last time you endorsed your proud waste of internet space, then we'll bookmark you, and you don't have to ask. So stop distracting me, bitch. I'm uploading my macchiato/banofee pics.


LOSER RATING:






5. The "I'm Telling You Anway" Poster

Personally, this has got to be the most self-absorbed of the lot. He's too self-absorbed, you'd think his physical constitution is made of up 40% water and 60% cotton. He posts about the most useless triviality, the most unusable detail, the superficial more often than not that he prompts the question:

And we should know this because?
Really, we're just so positively thrilled that you "just woke up :)," or that you're "cooking beef tapa," or that you're "4 cm na," but seriously, why do I need to know that?
LOSER RATING:





6. The "Poor You" Poster

There's this one loser in my network who shouted out that he's not going to be on Facebook for a few days. Nobody made a comment. A few days later, he posted a follow up shout out saying he's back. Again, nobody posted a comment. Sigh, this poor thing was thinking somebody cared. Let it be known that this facet of social networking, i.e. getting ignored, is most certainly heart breaking because it defeats the point of a subscription. But I have to admit, that shit is entertaining most especially when that somebody is getting ignored twice.


It can be argued that this kind of poster, the "Poor You" poster, is a distant relative of the "I'm Telling You Anyway" poster , but unlike the latter, the often-ignored "Poor You" poster is amusing. Because he's relentless.

His shallow shout outs, and that's a staggering understatement, rarely, if not never, get the props he was shooting at. Like the "I'm Telling You Anyway" poster, this attention whore just can't cut it, but, for some reason, he's far too encouraged by all that conceit that he goes for yet another nip at attention. Which he doesn't get. One can be led to believe that all the 300-plus people in this loser's network died over the weekend. Or he's just dead to them to begin with, and he's just there for quantity. The poor little bastard needs a consolation, so here's a customized comment you can use if you suspect one of these losers in your network:


"I don't know where you get your sense of entitlement, but you need to lose it."

LOSER RATING:






7. The "I Like What I Said" Poster

There was this one gay loser kid (Jesus, I need to trim these people down) in my network who posted that he's in a relationship. And it looks like he liked it so much that he was the first one to click on the LIKE link. Which doesn't make sense to me, because you don't post things like that if you didn't. Now it would have been fantastic, like in a fantasy, if his audience humored his bullshit, like good fucking sports, but no. The "I Like What I Said" poster's was the only acknowledgment on his own shout out. And that's just sad.


Imagine laughing at your own joke because nobody found it funny. That's the "I Like What I Said" poster for you, and he's an unprecedented height of pathetic. Because he's doing it for the fake props, and not to save face.
LOSER RATING:

Friday, June 10, 2016

Shit Break Two of Four






I am now taking a shit break from all this shit that I am shitting you with pleasure, My Dearly Beloved Sweet Nuts. I do this once every quarter. Meanwhile, I have been shitting you guys since 2003. This means I have plenty of bullshit you can check out. 


Friday, June 03, 2016

Notebook Cannibalism

**I copy "cannibalism" in this context from the Esteemed Mistress of the Universe. Meanwhile, here's a selection of "safe" crap from my notebook. 







1. It is only in Facebook where your copper plated, base metal life turns into gold. And for the most part, this alchemy applies to your face too. 

2. I remember watching Dead Silence more than five years ago. I just got home with a festive selection of food from the mall. I was then lying down on the couch after putting my house clothes on. Prince, my long Siamese, was grooming himself on the couch next to me, and Joel, my partner, was tending to something "domestical" in the kitchen. It was raining a bit, perhaps a gentle drizzle, and we were about to have lunch in a few minutes. 

Those were good times. Those were truly happy times. Joel has a wife and two kids now, and Prince died of liver complications in 2013. 

3. Limiting your reading limits the quality of writing that you want to create and enjoy. So tell me, Homo, what are you going to do about it? 

4. You will need to hand it to that darling group of planeswalkers. Thank you, you guys, for inviting me. No, seriously, thank you for letting me in somehow. You guys are awesome. 

5. Q: Is it cannibalism when you suck dick? A: Contrary to popular belief, sucking dick is not cannibalism. Swallowing cum is. 

6. "Fully Charged Brain Coffee with Industrial Grade Nicotine." This is what I call my folder of morning songs that include Jessie J's "Domino" and Ariana Grande's "Break Free."

7. One difference in having male friends over female friends is that your male friends don't go like "we're not that close yet" when you insult them with heart. 

8. I served ten years doing technical support, ten years, ten goddamned years, a decade of internet troubleshooting. I resigned after ten years, to the day, and I'm just learning the ropes of being a lady guard now. So no. Don't you goddamned lecture me about comfort zones. You are barking at the wrong, indignant tree, bitch.  

9. Make the little things count. Be grateful for all the right things, however small, because it accumulates to radiate a bigger shine. Yes, I do borderline emo fag from time to time. 

10. I remember faking sleep on the couch in the garage at two in the morning because I was waiting for my ex to come home and feel sorry for making me wait. This is a true story. This is a distasteful story. 

11. I like you, but your extra-pronounced forehead is oilier than the Middle East, so no. 

12. "So, you're the writer," said this kindly stranger, a woman in her 40s, surely. "How did she know" was the panicked nagging in my head, and "what does she think of my shit" was the distinct whisper. I lose my cool whenever anyone discusses my writing, even in passing, so you will imagine my embarrassment when this kindly stranger mentioned "writer" and "you're" in the same Hello. 

I blushed and went "ihhh." 

13. I will miss their status updates, and Like-ing pictures of sick kids because, apparently, One Like is the one prayer that didn't happen. And I will miss their viciously edited selfies that nearly erased their "outfit of the day" face, and their "just woke up" face, and their "where to go" face, and their "I am swag" face. I will miss the captions that are irrelevant to these edited pictures most definitely. 

I meant to quit Facebook, but that didn't happen because I like looking at Bruce and his beautiful face. 

14. My mouth's as wide open as the last time I had a raging erection two inches from my face. 

15. I miss You who gave me the perfumed white rose. I really do.

16. Hey girl, I have written better shit than the "Goiter" non-story. Try "It Could be Worse" for size and perspective. 

Friday, May 27, 2016

The Story Behind This Tattoo (Part Two)

**This here's my review of Angela Carter's "The Bloody Chamber." It turned out the way I conceived it, and it had fangs and spit and all that arsenic goodness, and it received a corrosive whipping because it was "needlessly philistine." Meanwhile, those two words further improved my admiration for The Mistress of the Universe.

This tattoo will remind me, to the day I die, to keep at it. 






And what do I think of Ms Angela Carter's Bloody Chamber? 

1. Ms Carter tried to exhume fairy tales that were buried with our childhood. And, to a weird gay nerd like me, exhume is a rather attractive description. 

2. I was having a hell of a time trying to re-read the first paragraph of this book. For the second time. And then it hit me. My poor eyes have become feet. And they were dragging themselves tired up this mountain of words that used to be, at first glance, a paragraph. But I have a commitment to honor, and I rallied myself up, and I read on and on and on, until forever terminated, at last, in that one elusive period which celebrated the end of that very first paragraph. And then the second paragraph is a different trek of its own. How did that feel? Yes she can be wordy to a fault, and her sentences can be four hundred meters long. Why, there were instances where, I swear to God, she squeezed two pages of a thesaurus in one paragraph alone.

3. It can be wordy to a fault. Maybe she's trying to emphasize on styles and themes and symbolism and the bigger picture. Shit. I read to entertain myself, not to think. So these objectives are dead to me. This book might be pushing for those things, but to me, it's just wordy. 

4. Erotic? It will be a straight yes, and that is only if you happen to be aroused by 12th century dentistry. It's the long sentences that undid my imagination; they did to my appetite what inexperienced tit-biting does to foreplay. It absolutely killed the mood. 

5. I'm a child at heart, first, and then a jaded homosexual nerd next. It is my nature, and this collection greatly appealed to one of these natures. And it thoroughly disappointed the other. See, fairy tales helped develop me. They did to my brain what yeast does to barley to create beer. And, more importantly, fairy tales take us back to our childhood. But this book makes me want to look back, and smile in recollection of that one time I was being strangled. Because that sure as hell felt better. And it's not even in a sexual, erotic asphyxiation content. 

6. It absolutely missed my fairy-tale G-spot by a mile. No, a time zone. But it tries to be twisted, and it does so with some moderate success. I was reading about how the Nazi made soap out of the fat of corpses when I was given this assignment. And twisted can be very relative at that point.  

7. It is an interesting treasury of euphemisms. So if you are meaning to enrich your choice of words, then you will do well to give this book a good borrowing. Or downloading, if you're into that. 

8. This collection can be an obscene pleasure at best. But it is armed to the teeth with sentences that swell with a hundred thousand words each. These will knock the wind out of you. That being said, let me, out of the kind generosity of my heart, share some useful advice on how you can best appreciate this collection of zombified timeless classics. Read it cross eyed. That way, you can imagine that you are getting twice the value. But then, it will be twice that many words, so we might as well dismiss that tip. Of course, I'm kidding.

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