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.

How Much Cock Do I Have to Suck?

**or How Many Blogs Do I Have To Hop To Get the Traffic?

There are people who drop by your tagboard, leave a quick message, and then promote their blog. They are not asking for a link exchange, they just want to let you know that they blog too. Whoop-de-doo.

There are people who comment on your most recent post, and then promote their blog. You then remember your policy towards generic comments as you remember the other generic comment before this one.

There are people who go straight to the point and tell you that a link exchange is necessary. You used to entertain such invitations. And you longed for such invitations until you realized that, in the long run, it is better to keep fewer bloggers and call them family as opposed to maintaining a long list and call it grocery shopping. Or blog shopping to be more specific since that's what it basically is. What makes it such a drag is that you find out that don't need everything in your bag.

There are people who just "dropped by." These people are also bloghoppers. So why can't they just "hop by?" But I don't get it when they say they're just "dropping by." Oh shit. You can tell just how bad I am with puns.

And then there's the rare kind. They tell you to go to their blog with not as much as dispensing early courtesies. So, you don't.

You already know that you have a nice blog. Somebody already beat them to it, but they called it a rocking blog, or a great blog with "nice posts," or a cool site with rocking entries. They're not even implying that you reciprocate. And this makes you wonder: Is this the blogger's handshake?

SPAM is only good when it comes from a can. And you know how molested you're tagboard has become when it's festered with unsolicited advertisements and people "dropping by." Oh shit. Take a picture of me and my bad punning.

Looking back, you realize that everybody needs to start somewhere. Just like you did. And then you smile as you remember how you once participated in this attention-whoring cycle. You still do. But then again, you remember that you were never of this type:

There are people who call your blog names and call themselves anonymous. This is because they only have one ball left to identify themselves with. Yes, all that name calling exhausted both their balls in the process.

See also:
Momel's Take: The Unwritten Rules of Blogging

I Used To Be Poor

I'm an agent in a call center. But unlike most agents, I don't speak English outside of the office on account of I believe that my English is something that they're paying for. I never paid no eighty pesos for one cup of coffee, never have and never will, I'm not that flashy, and I never used my occupation to social climb.

Yes, the income borders on the slightly lucrative, but that's never an excuse to become a totally inflated airhead. At least I never saw it that way. It does afford a comfortable lifestyle personalized with the most fantabulous accessories the income bracket can provide. But it still sucks if it's making you defy the earth's gravitational pull on your head.

I've been working in the same industry for three years now, and I have been working for three different companies all that time. Although it is a little too early to say that I've been there and I've done that, what little experience I've had in the industry tells me this much: I used to be poor.