**I wouldn't have anything to write if it weren't for this light bulb moment that happened to me. While I was taking a shit this morning. No pictures. No spell check. No previews.
I have learned to. Identify my tolerance. For everybody else's bullshit. And then I get to decide. Should I smile it away? Give it the finger? Write it out? There's no end to your vanity. Anyway. I've been smiling it away more recently these days. That's scary. I've been writing your crap out. And then I find myself smiling at it. This blog is fucked.
Maybe this inner-peace bullshit. It's just a goddamned phase. It better be. Oh Jesus Mary. It better be.
I can choose to post this on Facebook. As a status update. And I will choose to ignore it myself.
Saturday, August 31, 2013
Friday, August 23, 2013
Beauty Queen Teeth
I was smoking in front of TGIF while waiting for the mall to open when I noticed this beautiful face to my left. His perfectly blushed cheeks were radiant as they supported this killer pair of black shades. His lips were as purple as a bad bruise, his nose delicate and pointy like those of a little girl. His thin frame and wide shoulders were draped in this black number that had yellow streaks all over. His sense of fashion can use a little indoctrination, but his face was warm and friendly as it was comely, so I talked to him.
I gave him a warm smile; he was looking at me anyway. "Hi, ako pala si Momel." And he was like, "Hi, I'm Maimai," in that familiar high pitched voice that's as close as one gets to friendly strangulation. Again, Maimai here was beautiful, so I had to ask, "Contesera?" Contesera, or Beauconera, is a beauty pageant regular. And he said, "Dati. I used to, and I've been all around. Kung saan saan..." I butted in because I can't help it, "Taray, nationwide?" He didn't seem to notice, so he went on uninterrupted. "... pero thirty na ako. Matanda na. Graduate na ko dian." And then he gave me one of those obviously practiced smiles that conteseras shine with. And then Maimai's pretty stopped dead in its tracks.
He flashed this set of Very yellow teeth.
I am in my thirties myself, and I've seen a lot of yellow teeth, but seriously, Maimai's stains are the oddest. There's this heavy concentration of that school bus yellow on his upper row. Which is the only teeth a beauty queen usually displays, and it rested on his lower bruise-purple lips. However, the yellow is darker, heavier even, on his two front teeth. Remember that funny bit where you stick chewed gum on your two front teeth? And then you smile, and the people who see it laugh in surprise because it's hilarious as shit? Because it's a joke? Far unlike Beauty Queen Maimai's golden treasure here?
I breathed a sigh of relief in secret; I was about two feet away from him. Anything closer, like within smelling range of his breath, and I could be spending my lunch hour with an oxygen tank. No, wait, smelling salts, strong ammonia, and then an oxygen tank. I could be paralyzed too, sure, if I didn't keep to my personal space. Anyway, I'm not saying that he's got dragon's breath. I'm not saying he's got killer halitosis. You know what? I'm sorry. There. I'm sorry if I jumped to conclusions. I apologize. So allow me to say this, and I'm saying this from the bottom of my heart: I'm sure, no, I know that beneath all that poorly maintained teeth, beneath all that yellow, beneath all that dental profanity... is just really stinky breath.
So Maimai here graduated from gay beauty contests because he says he's gotten old. Maybe it's high time for him to enroll in som Dental Hygiene School. You see, the same thing goes for old dogs and "old" fags. They could sure learn some new tricks. Maimai here can learn to brush his teeth. Good girl.
I gave him a warm smile; he was looking at me anyway. "Hi, ako pala si Momel." And he was like, "Hi, I'm Maimai," in that familiar high pitched voice that's as close as one gets to friendly strangulation. Again, Maimai here was beautiful, so I had to ask, "Contesera?" Contesera, or Beauconera, is a beauty pageant regular. And he said, "Dati. I used to, and I've been all around. Kung saan saan..." I butted in because I can't help it, "Taray, nationwide?" He didn't seem to notice, so he went on uninterrupted. "... pero thirty na ako. Matanda na. Graduate na ko dian." And then he gave me one of those obviously practiced smiles that conteseras shine with. And then Maimai's pretty stopped dead in its tracks.
He flashed this set of Very yellow teeth.
I am in my thirties myself, and I've seen a lot of yellow teeth, but seriously, Maimai's stains are the oddest. There's this heavy concentration of that school bus yellow on his upper row. Which is the only teeth a beauty queen usually displays, and it rested on his lower bruise-purple lips. However, the yellow is darker, heavier even, on his two front teeth. Remember that funny bit where you stick chewed gum on your two front teeth? And then you smile, and the people who see it laugh in surprise because it's hilarious as shit? Because it's a joke? Far unlike Beauty Queen Maimai's golden treasure here?
I breathed a sigh of relief in secret; I was about two feet away from him. Anything closer, like within smelling range of his breath, and I could be spending my lunch hour with an oxygen tank. No, wait, smelling salts, strong ammonia, and then an oxygen tank. I could be paralyzed too, sure, if I didn't keep to my personal space. Anyway, I'm not saying that he's got dragon's breath. I'm not saying he's got killer halitosis. You know what? I'm sorry. There. I'm sorry if I jumped to conclusions. I apologize. So allow me to say this, and I'm saying this from the bottom of my heart: I'm sure, no, I know that beneath all that poorly maintained teeth, beneath all that yellow, beneath all that dental profanity... is just really stinky breath.
So Maimai here graduated from gay beauty contests because he says he's gotten old. Maybe it's high time for him to enroll in som Dental Hygiene School. You see, the same thing goes for old dogs and "old" fags. They could sure learn some new tricks. Maimai here can learn to brush his teeth. Good girl.
Friday, August 16, 2013
Scandal ni Edgar
**Alternate title: Titi Mong Garabucho-oh woh
**The problem with my once-a-week updates is when I'm itching to publish my unnecessary say on some current hot item. But I cannot. Because I am far too lazy, and sexy, to be writing something impromptu about what everybody else is trying to be smart about. Two weeks ago, Chito Miranda, of Parokya ni Edgar fame, thrilled nearly everyone with his far from fascinating fornicating feats. A video of Chito's penetrating powers leaked, it was posted on The Internet, and nearly everybody jerked off to Neri Naig's hanging tits or Chito Miranda's "un-Filipino" penis. Four minutes later, everybody climaxed and went back to their pedestrian Facebook shallowness (i.e. Selfie.145926535halfofyouwontgetthis8979323846).
I was honestly revolted by that scandal. I had to write this down.
They turned the lights on, but Chito's dick looks like it was left in the dark. It wasn't even a dick. It seemed to me that Chito Miranda has been fucking Neri Naig with some root crop that he pulled from the soil. That dick. That dick. Oh Jesus, it was as black as sin. It was, for a Filipino, hardly erect. It was, in a word, unsuckable. And that's tough coming from a hardcore fan gay.
Neri Naig looked young, but her breasts gave her away. Those breasts have the quality of a pendulum. They were pendulous breasts, and I hardly wondered why she allowed herself to be fucked for viewing pleasure. Those pendulous (I love this word) breasts have gone places; her tits pointed south, but that pair of veteran, well bitten boobs looked like they have been cupped by more hands than one. They were so everywhere, they have their own frequent flyer miles.
And that's just her boobs. I won't talk about her cunt. That's a gay man's Great Sandy Waste.
Anyway, Chito, here's what I think. Yes, I am addressing you by your first name because, as a gay fanboy, I think I knew you. Yes, I am addressing you by your first name because I know I can get away with this "feeling close" moment; you will never read this blog anyway. It took you twenty something years to establish that shimmering rock star status. It took you guys two decades to build such a loyal following of music-buying fans. You guys penetrated the local music industry with signature songs whose clever lyrics ranged from the funny to the romantic. And then a seven minute video leaked. And it succeeded in single-handedly (or fingered-ly, or tongued-ly, whatever) warping my near-idol worship.
Your chinito eyes, and the uneven teeth, and the hair that's usually parted in the middle was the wholesome face that sang my adolescent insecurities away. And, recently, I saw that face bury itself in pussy. Sure, I get it, sex drugs rock and roll; you guys are living the life. We already know. We have an idea. But do we really have to see all three in a video? In amateur action?
Some things cannot be unseen. Most especially when such images involve a personal hero involved in some lousy fucking. Ew, that dirty dick. Ugh, those pendulous breasts. But you know what, it doesn't matter to me anymore. Honestly. Your songs are better, waaaay better than your penetration. And your songs are why I'm still a fan. Of your songs. You sang about the suicidal Buloy and his dog Morlock. You sang about garabucho lips in your song Silvertoes. You sang about guys being in love with their pare; you shined for the homos way earlier than Erik and Vincent did. You brought Mr Suave to life. Your songs are the best in Pinoy crazy, and it doesn't matter what garbage will be blackmailed out of you.
Your songs are your redeeming factor. Maybe you can sing this scandal away?
**The problem with my once-a-week updates is when I'm itching to publish my unnecessary say on some current hot item. But I cannot. Because I am far too lazy, and sexy, to be writing something impromptu about what everybody else is trying to be smart about. Two weeks ago, Chito Miranda, of Parokya ni Edgar fame, thrilled nearly everyone with his far from fascinating fornicating feats. A video of Chito's penetrating powers leaked, it was posted on The Internet, and nearly everybody jerked off to Neri Naig's hanging tits or Chito Miranda's "un-Filipino" penis. Four minutes later, everybody climaxed and went back to their pedestrian Facebook shallowness (i.e. Selfie.145926535halfofyouwontgetthis8979323846).
I was honestly revolted by that scandal. I had to write this down.
They turned the lights on, but Chito's dick looks like it was left in the dark. It wasn't even a dick. It seemed to me that Chito Miranda has been fucking Neri Naig with some root crop that he pulled from the soil. That dick. That dick. Oh Jesus, it was as black as sin. It was, for a Filipino, hardly erect. It was, in a word, unsuckable. And that's tough coming from a hardcore fan gay.
Neri Naig looked young, but her breasts gave her away. Those breasts have the quality of a pendulum. They were pendulous breasts, and I hardly wondered why she allowed herself to be fucked for viewing pleasure. Those pendulous (I love this word) breasts have gone places; her tits pointed south, but that pair of veteran, well bitten boobs looked like they have been cupped by more hands than one. They were so everywhere, they have their own frequent flyer miles.
And that's just her boobs. I won't talk about her cunt. That's a gay man's Great Sandy Waste.
Anyway, Chito, here's what I think. Yes, I am addressing you by your first name because, as a gay fanboy, I think I knew you. Yes, I am addressing you by your first name because I know I can get away with this "feeling close" moment; you will never read this blog anyway. It took you twenty something years to establish that shimmering rock star status. It took you guys two decades to build such a loyal following of music-buying fans. You guys penetrated the local music industry with signature songs whose clever lyrics ranged from the funny to the romantic. And then a seven minute video leaked. And it succeeded in single-handedly (or fingered-ly, or tongued-ly, whatever) warping my near-idol worship.
Your chinito eyes, and the uneven teeth, and the hair that's usually parted in the middle was the wholesome face that sang my adolescent insecurities away. And, recently, I saw that face bury itself in pussy. Sure, I get it, sex drugs rock and roll; you guys are living the life. We already know. We have an idea. But do we really have to see all three in a video? In amateur action?
Some things cannot be unseen. Most especially when such images involve a personal hero involved in some lousy fucking. Ew, that dirty dick. Ugh, those pendulous breasts. But you know what, it doesn't matter to me anymore. Honestly. Your songs are better, waaaay better than your penetration. And your songs are why I'm still a fan. Of your songs. You sang about the suicidal Buloy and his dog Morlock. You sang about garabucho lips in your song Silvertoes. You sang about guys being in love with their pare; you shined for the homos way earlier than Erik and Vincent did. You brought Mr Suave to life. Your songs are the best in Pinoy crazy, and it doesn't matter what garbage will be blackmailed out of you.
Your songs are your redeeming factor. Maybe you can sing this scandal away?
Friday, August 09, 2013
A Change of Heart on Selfies, and A Blogger's Birthday Greeting
**I like to look at beautiful things, so this post is dedicated to all you ugly posers who selfie too much. Underscore too much; you shouldn't be, for the love of mercy, doing selfies in the first place. Alright, so you may have that kind of freedom. But with the kind of awful pictures you are submitting, it looks like you are exercising that freedom in jail. Meanwhile, to my paradise-level goddess friends afflicted with the same conceit, carry on please. You are making my newsfeed prettier.
Why do we have to see you in your most well-prepared, heavily dolled-up with crazy, blow dried hair, in your bathroom, when we know, for real, you do not look like that, nowhere like that, in real life? I do not get it, all 1,000 hourly images of it. Maybe I do, but thinking about it is like 10th century lobotomy. It is hurting my brain. So I'll save myself the suffering and find time to masturbate instead.
No, I won't unfriend you or hide you from my newsfeed just yet. I am somewhat masochistic, and this sexy constitution demands that nature of hurting.
Anyway, humility is a lesson learned best with experience, so I'll stop imagining I can "preach" your narcissism away. By and by, you will meet several real-life goddesses who will shame your make believe, self-appointed beauty. For the time being, you go ahead and Photosh... your selfies to your vain heart's content. See if I fucking care anymore, ugly bitch.
However, I will continue to have fun, devilish fun, with the insults. Your uploaded witchcraft begs for it. Okay, so you took the time to look dazzling with all that unnatural glow light. But you have to go through several lighting effects before, after thirty minutes of indecisiveness, you decided to upload one heavily edited picture with half a heart behind it. Maybe you were thinking this kind of light failed to bring out your best features. Oh hell no. The lighting is not the problem. It is what's being lit. It should be left in the dark.
I hate to break it to you, but your selfies are not pretty enough. Truth is, even after the painstaking assembly order process that your selfies go through before being uploaded, it's still the farthest thing from pretty. It's a glacial period away from beautiful. Why do you even try? I'm sure you already know that no amount of glowing light will fix your nose, or unblemish your pockmarks, or rosy whiten your complexion, or stretch your height, or give you sex appeal, or straighten your teeth, or increase your sperm count, or what have you. That necromancy, and I shudder to call it by it's unholy name, Photosh... curse that art of the devil (crosses self), that implement of the Anti Christ, can only do so much raising of the dead. However, like all demonic arts, it is still possessed of several limitations. Like you. And these limitations, namely you, are giving me hours of countless fun.
I know I am the farthest thing from pretty, but I do not do selfies, so fuck you. And if you cannot be restrained from giving us taste cancer with your hourly selfies, then I might as well take your pictures for their butt-of-jokes quality, and have a grand time laughing.
And this is why I have decided to dwell on the lighter side of things. No, it is not the "glow light witchcraft" sort of light, but the consequential insult humor which is prosperous with Photosh... "it's" limitations. And by "limitations," sweetheart, I am referring to you. And people like you who seriously imagine they can get away with the obviously embellished. So, you know what, you keep your uploads coming. I encourage you to go for it, upload your mostly Photosh... selfies as often as you want, as much as you want, oh please do, and I'm sure we're guaranteed at least a few more hours of belly aching laughter.
Meanwhile, the only reason why I am posting this screen shot is because of it's relevance to my blogging. I just turned 33 yesterday, and I love all my well-wishers with equal measures of love and suspicion. I kid. With the word "suspicion." Obviously. Anyway, Andoy, that sweet dick with his bullseye sense of humor, might as well have given me some semblance of actual purpose. Which is exactly why I am posting this screenshot. It's like some makeshift tattoo of sorts, and it requires permanence. So here.
| Photo from fanpop.com |
Anyway, humility is a lesson learned best with experience, so I'll stop imagining I can "preach" your narcissism away. By and by, you will meet several real-life goddesses who will shame your make believe, self-appointed beauty. For the time being, you go ahead and Photosh... your selfies to your vain heart's content. See if I fucking care anymore, ugly bitch.
However, I will continue to have fun, devilish fun, with the insults. Your uploaded witchcraft begs for it. Okay, so you took the time to look dazzling with all that unnatural glow light. But you have to go through several lighting effects before, after thirty minutes of indecisiveness, you decided to upload one heavily edited picture with half a heart behind it. Maybe you were thinking this kind of light failed to bring out your best features. Oh hell no. The lighting is not the problem. It is what's being lit. It should be left in the dark.
 |
| Image from amovieaweek.com |
I hate to break it to you, but your selfies are not pretty enough. Truth is, even after the painstaking assembly order process that your selfies go through before being uploaded, it's still the farthest thing from pretty. It's a glacial period away from beautiful. Why do you even try? I'm sure you already know that no amount of glowing light will fix your nose, or unblemish your pockmarks, or rosy whiten your complexion, or stretch your height, or give you sex appeal, or straighten your teeth, or increase your sperm count, or what have you. That necromancy, and I shudder to call it by it's unholy name, Photosh... curse that art of the devil (crosses self), that implement of the Anti Christ, can only do so much raising of the dead. However, like all demonic arts, it is still possessed of several limitations. Like you. And these limitations, namely you, are giving me hours of countless fun.
I know I am the farthest thing from pretty, but I do not do selfies, so fuck you. And if you cannot be restrained from giving us taste cancer with your hourly selfies, then I might as well take your pictures for their butt-of-jokes quality, and have a grand time laughing.
 |
| Photo from vimeo.com |
Meanwhile, the only reason why I am posting this screen shot is because of it's relevance to my blogging. I just turned 33 yesterday, and I love all my well-wishers with equal measures of love and suspicion. I kid. With the word "suspicion." Obviously. Anyway, Andoy, that sweet dick with his bullseye sense of humor, might as well have given me some semblance of actual purpose. Which is exactly why I am posting this screenshot. It's like some makeshift tattoo of sorts, and it requires permanence. So here.
Friday, August 02, 2013
I Hate Your "Omg I'm So Ugleeeehhh Huhuhu" Facebook Selfie
Imagine you are bored, you've got time to kill, you think you can handle a little disappointment, so you went ahead and navigated through your Facebook newsfeed. The customary dumb truck rolls along. There is nothing out of the ordinary with the "I'm bored" Facebook status, the " (insert number) hours of sleep, zzzzz" Facebook status1, the "here's what I ate, and I can't pronounce it much, so I took a picture" Facebook status, the usual pedestrian fare. Nothing out of the ordinary, and then as you are bracing yourself for more hopeless cases, you noticed one particular selfie.
Omg. I'm so ugly. Huhuhu. This "selfie" happens a lot, by the way.
I hate you, fucking poster, whoever the hell you are. See, if you say so that you are ugly, then maybe you are telling it real. I mean, nobody knows you better that yourself, right? You are familiar with your hooked nose, and your cat-shit skin tone, and those pock marks that can grind cheese and meat and flour to make spaghetti. You know that 3'11 height very well, and that wiry hair, and that lazy eye, and your yellow crooked teeth. So you magicked a photo in that familiar angle, threw in the usually exaggerated sad face, post it in Facebook, and caption the uploaded witchcraft with the words "I'm so ugly, huhuhu."
It is a Facebook post. Are you expecting us to Like your admission to being ugly? And then, in return, will you still consider us as your friends? Think about it. We actually Like your confession to being ugly. We are rather fond of it, for sure. We are now fans of your sudden honesty. We never expected you to come clean and concede to your ugliness. We like that you are painfully honest about it. Aren't you going to unfriend us?
Well, dipshit, you said it first, okay? So you can't blame other people who echo your sentiments, "Yes you are." They are your friends, and they're just being sympathetic. Or truthful. Or jerks. Whatever. You started this mess in the first place, okay? If you wanted them to say that "You are pretty," then you should have said "Are my tits pink in this pair of jeans?" Or you should have posted "I AM BEAUTIFUL!" with all the fake emotion that caps locked keys project. Meanwhile, you appealed to sympathy, and gave us a lame ass picture with a lame ass caption. "I'm so ugly, huhuhu."
You cannot tell it straight, right? You cannot tell us that "I AM BEAUTIFUL!" because you Do know yourself well enough to restrain yourself from posting that same status. It would be what is known in court as perjury. So you are appealing to sympathy instead. "I'm so ugly, huhuhu." Fuck you. We in the jury should be punching you on the boobs now. Sideways. All twelve of us.
In your defense, maybe you do have standards. Beautiful word that, Standards. And maybe these standards are what's keeping you from posting that invitation to insult. Which will be your "I AM BEAUTIFUL" status update if you decided to post that in the first place. Underscore maybe; understand that all this talk about Why you can't post "I AM BEAUTIFUL" is nothing but speculation. Speculation meaning I'm not sure. But I have a suspicion. Which is almost always right. "I'm so ugly, huhuhu."
Having said all that, bear in mind that I get your retarded psychology. No, it could have been reverse psychology, but you are not capable of that. And, I should apologize to the clinically diagnosed retard; you guys are not capable of such shallow self-promotion, but I have a point. What you are doing, you stupid cunt, is that you are appealing to the sympathy of your friends.
These comments or likes are feeding your misplaced narcissism, and it's not healthy. You read those comments, and you feel better because they are, in some sick way, validating what you think Has to be right all along. You can be beautiful. But honey, the truth is, all this wrongful narcissism, all this criminal vanity, all this obsession with self, all that? It's not a pretty picture, and that's exactly the kind of selfie that you are posting.
You can be beautiful? Well, judging from the number of people you have in your network, and factor in the number of courageous comment-ers, it looks like you can be a likable person. You can be beautiful. But it's the "inside" kind of beautiful that most ugly people are advocating. And who the hell gives a shit about that?
1Credits go to my funny friend Erlyn for this.
 |
| Photo from quickmeme.com |
Omg. I'm so ugly. Huhuhu. This "selfie" happens a lot, by the way.
I hate you, fucking poster, whoever the hell you are. See, if you say so that you are ugly, then maybe you are telling it real. I mean, nobody knows you better that yourself, right? You are familiar with your hooked nose, and your cat-shit skin tone, and those pock marks that can grind cheese and meat and flour to make spaghetti. You know that 3'11 height very well, and that wiry hair, and that lazy eye, and your yellow crooked teeth. So you magicked a photo in that familiar angle, threw in the usually exaggerated sad face, post it in Facebook, and caption the uploaded witchcraft with the words "I'm so ugly, huhuhu."
It is a Facebook post. Are you expecting us to Like your admission to being ugly? And then, in return, will you still consider us as your friends? Think about it. We actually Like your confession to being ugly. We are rather fond of it, for sure. We are now fans of your sudden honesty. We never expected you to come clean and concede to your ugliness. We like that you are painfully honest about it. Aren't you going to unfriend us?
Well, dipshit, you said it first, okay? So you can't blame other people who echo your sentiments, "Yes you are." They are your friends, and they're just being sympathetic. Or truthful. Or jerks. Whatever. You started this mess in the first place, okay? If you wanted them to say that "You are pretty," then you should have said "Are my tits pink in this pair of jeans?" Or you should have posted "I AM BEAUTIFUL!" with all the fake emotion that caps locked keys project. Meanwhile, you appealed to sympathy, and gave us a lame ass picture with a lame ass caption. "I'm so ugly, huhuhu."
You cannot tell it straight, right? You cannot tell us that "I AM BEAUTIFUL!" because you Do know yourself well enough to restrain yourself from posting that same status. It would be what is known in court as perjury. So you are appealing to sympathy instead. "I'm so ugly, huhuhu." Fuck you. We in the jury should be punching you on the boobs now. Sideways. All twelve of us.
In your defense, maybe you do have standards. Beautiful word that, Standards. And maybe these standards are what's keeping you from posting that invitation to insult. Which will be your "I AM BEAUTIFUL" status update if you decided to post that in the first place. Underscore maybe; understand that all this talk about Why you can't post "I AM BEAUTIFUL" is nothing but speculation. Speculation meaning I'm not sure. But I have a suspicion. Which is almost always right. "I'm so ugly, huhuhu."
 |
| Photo from memegenerator.co |
Having said all that, bear in mind that I get your retarded psychology. No, it could have been reverse psychology, but you are not capable of that. And, I should apologize to the clinically diagnosed retard; you guys are not capable of such shallow self-promotion, but I have a point. What you are doing, you stupid cunt, is that you are appealing to the sympathy of your friends.
These comments or likes are feeding your misplaced narcissism, and it's not healthy. You read those comments, and you feel better because they are, in some sick way, validating what you think Has to be right all along. You can be beautiful. But honey, the truth is, all this wrongful narcissism, all this criminal vanity, all this obsession with self, all that? It's not a pretty picture, and that's exactly the kind of selfie that you are posting.
You can be beautiful? Well, judging from the number of people you have in your network, and factor in the number of courageous comment-ers, it looks like you can be a likable person. You can be beautiful. But it's the "inside" kind of beautiful that most ugly people are advocating. And who the hell gives a shit about that?
1Credits go to my funny friend Erlyn for this.
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