Remembering the Old Blog

So if a picture's worth a thousand words, then here's a couple of thousand for you all. This was what was left of my old blog, fondly entitled My Perverations. Perverted. Narrations. And a whole plenty of wordplay. It ain't completely dead yet as a number of my earlier posts, which includes Lemuel and The Bibliophile Post, belonged to that blog.

I wasn't as interested with HTML codes back then, so I had to settle with the default black Blogger template. I just wanted to blog, and I never had this need to impress. But then I started blog hopping and I realized how much my old blog sucked. Don't get me wrong, I'm referring to the format. I know I'm brilliant, but nobody's reading me. So I charmed my blog up, switched pantyliners, and voila, a Blahg of Bullshit.

It might be the same behavior which takes place when you know other people are watching. It's the height of caution at it's most conceited. Gone are the days when you can just go on ahead and write away your moments. It doesn't work anymore since, as a blogger, you're unknowingly pimping your moments for comments. You have to make it look presentable, if not good, since you know you are not trying to impress yourself anymore.

Online Relationships

Isn't it funny how you can be so grossly uninterested after meeting, for the first time, the most recent love of your life?

You had butterflies in your stomach an hour ago, before you two actually met, but you're so pumping your guts out through your mouth after meeting him or her. Much like that medical procedure where they pump the analgesics off of your stomach after your most recent drug overdose.

But to give it some credit, at least, with these kinds of relationships, you know you're current fling slash prospective soulmate in the works is a SUN subscriber. You couldn't have made that any clearer when you mentioned you're looking for a GF or a BF na "naka-sun SIM."

At least, there's one thing in common.

Related Posts:

Some Chatters Aren't Meant to Go Online

Gaway Gaway Grammar and Jovit Moya

My 10 Favorite Posts

Here's a little list of some of the creamiest crap you'll ever find in this here blahg of bull. I like some of them because of the comments, some trigger a smile and a funny recollection, and some because of the inflamed passion I've always invested when referring to such issues.

I make passion sound like an infection, don't I? But still, feel free to browse through some of, in my personal understanding, through some of my better pieces.

These are enumerated in no certain order, just the way I like it. Ten's a random number. It might as well be seven, fourteen, two, or, for the love of excessive self promotion, eighty three since that's all of the posts I've written since day one. Day one was almost two years ago. Yes, I know 2005 is not two years ago, but my first blog was, and a third of the content in this here blahg of bull was transferred from my first blog.

So there.

1. Momel's Take: The Unwritten Rules of Blogging
My personal code of blogger conduct. Underscore MY, it being the operative term.

2. Growing Up Gay Part 1: Another Gay Baby
I like using self explanatory titles. That pretty much explains why I hate answering questions referring to my titles.

3. Confessions of a Telemarketer
I used to be one telemarketer almost two years ago. Interesting thing, that telemarketing gig.

4. In Defense of Call Center Agents
I have this growing inclination to bash almost everybody sporting a fake accent, and that includes
myself. But I still remember to love my own. I still do.

5. My Hate List
Oprah Winfrey once suggested, not to me personally, that we enumerate at least five things we are personally grateful for. That's on a daily basis. I don't have that much discipline and I'm no Oprah Winfrey. But this is just as therapeutic.

6. In Between Bookmarks and Dog-Ears
This was supposed to be a confession, and it remained as such all throughout, but there was something else involved in this post. And that's another confession for you.

7. Lemuel
Simply the dumb-dumbest telemarketer you'll want to talk to. Hands down. No contest.

8. MEL Versus the "Discreetly Bisexual, Man-Eating PAMINTA"
Is this always going to be as old as time?

9. Presenting Your Gay Nine-Ball Champion
And to quote Momel, I get to be this accomplished in one of my better passions, and nothing, for the time being, could be as remarkable.

10. Friendships in the Event of an Appendectomy
I was bitter when I wrote this.

The picture you see in there is that of a Russian woman with a mouth full of golden teeth due to extremely poor hygiene. Clearly, this goes to show that, there is still something of value even in the stinkiest and filthiest and rottenest of places. Pretty much like what you're seeing in this here blahg of bull. Oh, enjoy the leftover morbid while you're at it.

This Will Be Short

Hi. I will be defending my title in a nine-ball tournament on the 9th.

The pressure's starting to build this early.

I might write about it soon.

Cheers all!

Related Link:
Presenting Your Gay Nine Ball Champion

PS
I still have another fresh post you guys might have overlooked. Who needs three mugs of coffee when you have pre-tournament jitters, huh? I'm so swearing right now, it's like getting circumcised for the second time around. Here:

When Was the Last Time the World Rotated Around You?

When Was The Last Time the World Rotated Around You?

See, I don't think it actually did. It never did. Your personal understanding of the world and its axis never involved you in the equation. It's just your ego that caused this. It's just you thinking you're all high and mighty impressionable with whatever claim to fame you think you have to your credit. Spare me, spare us, we really don't care. And we mean it. We really don't.

You have got to stop believing that you cause people to stop with their mouth agape and look at you or whatever you think is physically pretty about you. See, there is always bound to be somebody who's going to make you feel ten times uglier than you never you thought you actually were. Believe me, there always is, and that's already assuming that you actually are pretty by other people's standards. Beauty is always in the eyes of the beholder, and if you wish to be beheld as somebody visually desirable, then leave room for more than one beholder. If you wish to put your money where your assumptions are, then you need to subject yourself to other people's judgment, other people being the operative phrase.

There is always another person that's better paid than you are, so stop flashing your promotion around like you got there first. It's not like you're the only sheriff in town, you see, and there's always a shinier badge. You may or may not deserve the promotion, but we're sure we don't deserve to be suffocated by all this power tripping.

You hang out with a goodlooking crowd of the hippest people available in your area. People then identify you as one of the hippest people available in your area. That's cool by association, and, honestly, there's really no cool associated with this ecosystem. You get to have their cool transferred to you by virtue of your being a social parasite, and then you start forgetting that you can't be cool on your own. Parasitism. That's what it is. No, really.

The fake accent doesn't amaze us one bit. Well guess what Joe, or Jack, or Johnson, or whatever your American name is, there's just about a thousand other Joes or Jacks or Johnsons out there. And they're getting better paid than you are. And their accent's a whole heaven of believable. So shush your posing; manong jeepney driver's shitting in his pants as he's trying to find out how to make sukli your twey-neeh pey-sows.

No, you are not cool. You are never going to be the judge of that. Forget what you might have read about the shit behind self-empowerment. That tends to confuse you, and if any of this reaches you and causes echoes in your made up ivory tower, then you were confused big time. The only reason why any of this should strike a nerve is if this post mentioned any of your stinking idiosyncrasies. Well whoop-de-freaking-do, I'm not apologizing for your delusions on account of that will be, for all the right reasons, your own stinking problem.

And honestly, we're not sure where all your confidence is coming from.

See, it's not our fault you're such an attention whore.