Old People Don't Make Singit

They usually don't, but this old bitch in the drugstore did. My inner scandalous pig, brother to my inner child and my inner asshole, was applauding with glee as she cut the line after me. There was well about five, six people behind me, and she did took the time to scan the growing queue. And like the underlearned role model of today's growingly hopeless youth, she cut the line behind me while no one was looking.

Her timing was perfect.

Of course, I was expecting nothing short of a scandal to happen, but I continued getting bored as the same idle waiting continued. I'm not sure if the people behind me noticed, they probably did, but this old bitch jumped ahead of five, six people and got away with it.

I know people like me probably sucked in this situation but, I was thinking, she probably lead a long life, so why let her wait?

I soo missed you all.

Should you delete a dead friend from your Friendster list?

The last time I saw him was in Teriyaki Boy in the Mega Strip. We were, like, four tables away, and I was just so involved with my lunch that I elected to stay put and just greet him later. Hunger pangs do that, you know. I remember them calling the waiter, so they probably haven't ordered yet. I was thinking that I'll probably approach them later, after I've had lunch. But this heavy lunch was followed immediately by a couple of cigarettes, and since the air was so perfect outside, we decided to freshen out and smoke for another thirty minutes.

I never got to approach him. But then, I reckoned I'd just "make kuwento" the next time I saw him. Or maybe I'd just send him a quick message in Friendster and try to catch up on things. Not entirely personal, and not very warm at the very least, but at least it goes to show that I'm trying to keep in touch.

That message never happened. I was just so busy with my offline life that signing in to any of my online activities became the least of my concerns. Turns out that I'll have no chance to say hello at all. It was a few weeks since I last saw him that I learned of his death in a car accident. He didn't die from the accident itself, but he died from the internal injuries brought about by this terrible collision.

I didn't say hello when I had the chance. And, like the irresponsible friend that I am, I never went to his funeral at all. Maybe because I didn't know what to make of this situation which I never thought possible. But for the most part, I dreaded the thought of seeing any of my friends in a coffin.

Fast forward to almost two years today, and he's still in my Friendster list. But I guess there's still no point in sending him that message. I don't think they have Friendster from where he is right now.

My Feminine Side is Very Sensitive

My nipples are my only feminine side. Everything else is gayer than pink leather pants.

Call it erogenous or downright plain-as-hell kinky, but you see, things just don't get any clearer than that.

Of course, you must understand that this is big coming from an admittedly gay guy so out of the closet. No, not my nipples. This admission, that is, and this begins to grow steadily lamer as it reveals itself to be a badly punchlined one-liner.

And yes, for that matter, I still keep in touch with my feminine side. Most especially during those kinkier alone moments.

Bashing Homophobes

**Here's what I wrote as a response to this gay bashing faggot doing business in a gay thread. In a gay oriented website. On a very gay day, I take it.

You know what your problem is? You're much too concerned with what other people think.

I'm thinking that your life revolves around satisfying other people's perception of you. And that is just dull. And pointless. And totally defines a certain "lack of character" specific to gutless invertebrates like yourself. Are you telling me that you're prioritizing the satisfaction of other people as opposed to your own personal gratification. Ain't that dull?

You probably invented this term. And I wish you hell for whatever it's worth.

You're gay and you know it. How old are you anyway? Are you telling me that you're going to live under the comfort of your gay-bashing shell for the rest of your life? That sucks. You're probably going to be one of those gay guys who gets married not because they want to but because they have to. For show. And we're talking about the same gay guys who commit to their homosexuality in the long run, therefore leaving an unhappy wife and a family in disorder. We're talking about the same gay guys who feel like they've been missing out on all this cocksucking gay goodness since they were too busy bashing faggots in their youth. We're talking about you.

You hate gay people with the balls to admit to their sexuality, and yet, simultaneously, you're praying for total acceptance of the third sex here in our country? Don't you think you're wishing for too much? And why in gay hell would you want to have open-mindedness towards homosexuality? Isn't that the same luxury most gay guys are praying for with religious discipline?

Of course.

Your posts are aimless. You're jumping from one argument to another. No, scratch that, you're not jumping, you're "hopping" on account of you seem to be changing your mind in a heartbeat. You're a fickle-minded closet queen easily swayed by the next argument that everybody seems to be agreeing upon. But it makes perfect sense. You know why? Because you're much too concerned with what other people think.

You get a life, get yourself a cock to suck, and tell me you didn't enjoy it.

Remembering Obsessions

**I'm sure you guys have those little things that kept you busy at one point. Games and hobbies which made you eight years old again for at least a day or two. And then you went on ahead to graduate to better pre-occupations; you learned to masturbate. And what you have left, in the wake of your increasingly horny preoccupations, next to your growing collection of porn, is this boxful of boardgames and pretty pictures in little cards, stashed away to double as pretty dust collectors with sentimental value.

1. Magic the Gathering = This refreshes my memory as a mathematician in training. My battlefield was Lopez Canteen in UST, somewhere in P. Noval. It's got nerds and geeks and a good serving of male stink. Ahhh, what fresh hell is this?

2. Monopoly = It's a childhood memory associated with noisy scheming. Add a little bit of trash talking, some money laundering, and a whole hell of red tape, and you've got this two to three hour race to conquer Park Avenue. Honestly, that Amazing Race stint has got nothing on us.

3. Bingo = We don't bet much, but we're praying like it's the freaking lottery. Plus, it moonshines as a refresher to what pop culture we have left.

4. Console Gaming = I still remember how you get the thirty lives in Super Contra and the hundred lives in Super Mario Brothers. Last game I played was Final Fantasy 12 at home, and I'm actually thinking of tattooing the symbols in the Playstation D-Pad.

I was evolving my Pokemon Mankey into a Primeape on the GBA this last New Year's Eve. And it did on the first fifteen minutes of 2007.

5. Nope, no Barbie dolls in this gay guy's childhood.