Can You Please Shut the Fuck Up If You're Not in This List?

**It's the sweet face of mercy.


This is what I've been waiting for all these time. A validation, at last, of the people that matter. Of course outside of the family you were born with and created for yourself, those people are now in a list. Everybody else who thinks the universe rotates around their own personal axis, are you reading this Kris Aquino?, can go suck a nut as we now have a comprehensive enumeration of the people whose work and accomplishments actually count for something. Something important and worthwhile that is. That means no, Boy Abunda, your Melodic Conversations bullshit album doesn't count. Shove it.

It's a 100-strong list, and guess what, you're probably not in it. The people in this enumeration go beyond humility, whereas the people who think they should be in this list, are you reading this Tim Yap?, are too busy social climbing to accomplish anything that matters at all. I like this list because it's the best measure of significance. It's an unpretentious reality check that tells us, tells me at least, what I need to do before I go on ahead with the delusional sashaying.

This list goes a long way, and that pretty much tells me to abandon what plans I have of assuming that "I'm a Page Rank 3 Blogger, so dammit, you WILL hear me roar." Say what? Say what the fuck? The people in this list causes my accomplishments to go limp in comparison. By a whole mile. A thousand. The distance between our accomplishments, curse me but I am making a point, that distance is all too grand it leaves no room for penis envy.

Is that snotty whats-her-face Yeng Constantino reading this? You have a friend who'd do well to read this? Click away, and join me with this new found appreciation for shutting the fuck up. See, it's so lonely being this humbled.

THE TIME 100: THE MOST IMPORTANT PEOPLE OF THE CENTURY

I am soo adding this to my roll. And this next link too

HEROES AND KILLERS OF THE 20th CENTURY

Technical Support Story #5: Emails

**It's calls like this that makes technical support better than straight-to-hell telemarketing. Among other things, that is.

So this customer calls in saying that he has a problem with his email. He says he's experiencing a lot of latency with his incoming mails; the last time he received emails was like two days ago or something. And then he goes ahead and tells me this:

"I live in Texas, and most of my customers are from Texas. I understand if they're sending me emails from New York or California, that will take time. But they're just around the block, so why is it taking just as long?

Schedule Your Motherfucking Posts, You Goddamn Lazy-Ass Bloggers!

**This is a scheduled post. I wrote this post on 11/10/2008, and scheduled to have it detonate nine days later, on 11/19/2008. See, there are two other scheduled posts in between, and it's never been as convenient. Oh and the title's riddled with typos. Sorry about that. I mean, can you believe how the letters are spaced in this goddamn keyboard?

We are usually met with the dreaded writer's block that steals our thunder and rains on our parade. It's a storm with teeth. And there is hell to pay when it takes that first gnashing bite at your creative economy; you will be left freezing in its cruel torrents of mindless distraction. It will take time, days, weeks even for its unmerciful bouts to subside, and even that little mercy is barren of expectation. You shudder as you wait for the warm rays of inspiration to shine and pierce the receding storm clouds that is writer's block. And so I tell you this: read on, bitch, because I will show you how you can take advantage of those rare days when your creative cup will overfloweth.

There is a neat trick you can do with Blogger. It's called scheduling. And the idea here is to create as many coherent posts you can think of in one sitting, and then publish them separately at specified future dates. Underscore specified, encircle future dates; hell, it's a fucking subject verb agreement. You will be scheduling your posts like your bowel movement. Writers (and yes, that includes us bloggers) aren't always as inspired as they expect to be on account of the creative muse is a bitch who keeps her mobile phone off.

Here's how you conquer the "block," and as a consequence, how you can spare yourself the trouble of posting an excuse for not blogging.

1. Write a post.
2. Schedule your post.
3. And then wait. 4. And then wait some more.

Presenting the Google Define Function

**You are so going to love this.

If you're a blogger, and you're this excited to wow your readers with some highfalutin bullshit, and you don't know heads or tails of that big word in question, and you're too impatient to pull up M-W.com (Merriam Webster), then stop fretting. Your fetish for trying hard, uncharacteristic jargon is now as convenient as a happy meal. Everybody's favorite search engine, that's Google for those five people who are still using Yahoo Search, has this "define" feature which fetches definitions in a matter of nanoseconds. Or something just as fast.

Say for instance you need help with a big word, like, I dunno, PEDERAST.

1. Open the Google Search Bar. We're approaching 2009, so that's probably everywhere at this point.
2. Now, in the Google Search Bar, type in the word "define" followed by a colon. It's not case sensitive. The colon might be, though. And then you append (that means ATTACH) the big word in question. You may or may not add a space between the colon and the big word.3. Press Search, and it returns several web definitions for that term you've been meaning to use.Ohh, boy lover.

Beautiful in Their General Direction

**It's nice to have pretty friends.

I have this close acquaintance with a 14-year old dude who has the makings of a fabulous beauty queen. He prefers to be called Luisa, but his birth certificate refers to him as Luigi. He's taking female hormone pills this early on because apparently, you can never be too young to be beautiful. It's a fact best proven by his first accomplishment in his first beauty contest; he outranked fifteen veteran pageant contestants in a 25-strong beauty contest that had boobed transsexuals in the roster.

Its fucking outrageous, I tell you, unfair even that some bucky lastards get to have the elusive Gorgeous Gene. They're guaranteed a lifetime of worship, catcalls, beauty contest titles, and unsolicited free sex. And it gets no better than that, because there goes all the golden opportunities available to us gayfolk. In the third world, at least. Them in the unfashionable end of this spectrum live life anonymously as statistics in the all too de rigueur payroll. Because its the only way they can get laid.

I'm comfortably lodged in the precise middle of this spectrum where the margin of conceit is at it's most critical. See, I'm neither prettier or uglier than the next screaming fag out there, and that leaves very little room for the life threatening "I am beautiful, hear me roar" tantra. I'm afraid it's a comfort zone that's closest to home, and I'm not complaining or none. It's the inner Pageant Candidate in me that's crying foul.

Story of a Horse (A Rehash)

**This was one of my earlier favorites maybe because I learned to do thought bubbles in Adobe just to create an effect. Oh, to rehash means to present or use over, with no or few changes.

There was once this horse who died and went to that big green pasture in horse heaven. His name's Galloping Poser, and he was receiving judgment from the Guardian of the Pearly Fences. Here's what happened:

Loud and Booming Voice: Galloping Poser, we have been monitoring your activities, and you have been a very very wicked horse indeed. You have an ego that's more than enough for a village, you make fun of people more educated than you are, and you associate with good looking people because you're hoping that their cool will be transferred to you in one way or another. You use people, and that's not something characteristic of a god fearing horse.

Loud and Booming Voice: As punishment, you will be forced to be reborn as a human being. You will be living in the Philippines where you will be living a lifetime of bad acting. In ABS CBN.

Loud and Booming Voice: You will be sweating blood in your futile attempts at success, but your efforts shall all be in vain since we will not be giving you any talents worth noticing. None at all. What you can call redemption shall surface in the form of your onscreen love interest and your backup dancers, but you shall have nothing with which to shine on your lonesome. You will be devoid and bereft of any bankable skills. You will be a handicap, and you will be nothing without your onscreen love interest and your backup dancers. Save maybe for some skills in social climbing and faking and macho posturing, you will still be leading a hopeless career in Philippine showbusiness.

Loud and Booming Voice: You will break in to the entertainment industry not because of anything that's worth counting like your features maybe or your talents. Like I mentioned, you shall be stripped bare of these luxuries at birth. You will be galloping in a race, in a contest that seeks to discover badly dressed talents that will add to ABS CBN's circus of already badly dressed talents. You will win, but don't count that as good fortune. That is but part of this grand masterplan to wreck you. We will expose your shitty horseness to the heavily criticizing public.

Loud and Booming Voice: You will retain your features as a horse in a man's body, and your name will be Joross Gamboa.


This was a post dated May 2006. Click here to view the post with the comments.

From the Old Writing Board: Selling the Drama (July 2006)

**This is a hitherto unpublished post, and the title ought to clue you in on that one detail. I have this word file in the old computer where I write at random when unrestrained.

We are still together though. What you're about to read hasn't seen the light of a real confession, and I'm still hoping to conceal in real life what cruel infidelity I'm about to dispose of.

So here's what's been happening to me as of the late: I'm in a relationship right now. But my friends don't like him, they make it real clear that they don't like him, they raised hell just to make their point, and my friends now hate me for sticking with the guy.

He doesn't know it, but I already cheated on him twice with two of his friends.

I'm trying to sort things out, and I talked to him about calling it quits. I must have asked the wrong question, but it turns out we're still together. See, I'm knee deep in all this, but I'm still grateful that my offline friends have forgiven me for not being so visible these past few weekends.

A Question of Priorities

**Personally, this decision is like faking an orgasm. And that is just so biologically impossible or downright pointless for somebody with a penis.


Would you rather be looking for the man of your dreams or your G-spot?