Other People's Love Stories #2: The Aging Crossdresser and the Fuccboi

**The first truth is that theirs is a love story where no love happens. The second truth is that what they have is not even a story. They have a non-story. They have a no-love non-story, but they think they're, or at least one of them thinks they're in love. And he knows it's not mutual. 

What is pedersaty then is still pederasty now.

Fuccboi is visibly bored, and he doesn't care if it shows, and he doesn't like the vibe of Aging Crossdresser's ancient presence. Aging Crossdresser, on the other hand, decides to blind eye his boy toy's usual misbehavior, however, and he continues wooing the apple of his eye, and Fuccboi too, with cheap brandy and Horny Horny Pink on his lips. Someone asks for coins to buy ice with, and he hands him a fifty. 

Fuccboi lives in the Smaller Intestines of this Pig called Metro Manila. Aging Crossdresser's beauty parlor is in the same tract, although it is closer to the Larger Intestine. He is more than twice Fuccboi's age. As a matter of fact, he is four months away from being thrice Fuccboi's age, which is 16. Theirs is an affair that operates on the usual quid pro quo in these kinds of relationships: money for sex with the genuine loyalty of a fake love affair. 

They both lead utterly boring lives. He is on his third attempt at finishing second year high school, while he owns a trying hard beauty parlor and a Nokia phone with mostly under age boys in his address book. And let me tell you that about 80% of these boys are on his payroll. The remaining 20% are uncircumcised, but he keeps them just the same in spite of his loathing for the taste of cock cheese. A free hair cut is how they met. This is how our Aging Crossdresser addresses the grooming needs, among others, of the growing numbers of Fuccbois in the Smaller Intestines. 

Now he's drinking cheap brandy with Fuccboi and Fuccboi's other Fuccboi friends, and he's already texting Fuccboi's replacement with the usual lust in his wrinkled fingers. Fuccboi decides to blind eye his aging benefactor's misbehavior, however, and he continues to flirt with some Fuccgirl on the smartphone he received on Aging Crossdresser's second monthsary. 

From the Sematary of Non Issues: The Insult Comic

**Some other kids wanted to become pilots or doctors or teachers or lesbians.I wanted to become a voodoo priest or a ghoul caller or a grave stitcher or a necromancer, until I found out that there is no such thing outside of a Magic Card. So I raise the dead with my writing instead. Meanwhile, this issue has long died and went to the hell of non-issues. 

Ten points to whoever names this little homicidal darling. 

What business does an insult comic have with being sensitive? We bore witness to you offending people on TV, and when I say "we" I mean millions of us. We know that you have multiple mean bones in your anatomy, and this structure is perfect for your kind of comedy. You were infamous for insulting people that are more influential than yourself, and nothing stopped you. You were good at what you're doing, so you kept that up. You might as well. You make the homos look good, which is a funny kind of good, and it's a good kind of funny too. 

Imagine my confusion, however, when you gave us that show of indignation the other week! You appeared on national TV without a hint of basic powder, not even a dab of basic blush, in a basic white shirt on a basic pair of jeans. You showed up in your basic self, and you looked so basic, sub-basic, even, if that is a word, because you meant to display how honestly common you truly look like. I am not one to act surprised, so I wasn't. I kind of have an idea that you're not much of a looker since I spent hours looking at your pre-celebrity youtube videos, which were filmed in the dark, usually, on account of you worked in a comedy bar. Anyway, you even took your hair piece off because you were so into the bullshit indignation behind your "Beauty Fades" monologue. Remember this, though: this was one a noon time show, in one of the more influential networks in the third world. You displayed your basic face and your receding hairline while most everyone's having lunch because you were imagining that you have a point. 

"Beauty fades," you said, because that's the kind of crap that went well with the rice we were eating at that time. That's rich, coming from you, from you of all people, from you of all millionaire comic insults. What happened? All those hatefuls trolls got to you because they were right for once? I know the drama is as real as your straight boyfriend's affections towards you, and I know that your Beauty Fades Show is a cheap appeal to sympathy, but why did you, of all Insult Comics, resort to that? It's a hot mess, reconciling an Insult Comic with an Appeal to Sympathy, because you have no business giving us all that drama. What? We cannot be mean back at you? What? You can't take the same honest crap you're serving on a daily basis? What? We can't read you back? What? What about that show's ratings? 

For crying out loud and fake, you're making millions of currency with your insults. You, of all people, can't be that sensitive.

Other People's Love Stories #1: Courtship Smells Like Rose Water

There is no metaphor to my spacing of the letters. I think it's cute. 

I   s o m e t i m e s   i m a g i n e   t h a t   I   a m   j e a l o u s   o f  p e o p l e   i n   t h e   
e a r l y   s t a g e s   o f   t e n d e r   c o u r t s h i p .   I   s e e   t h e m   a n d   t h e i r   
i n f a t u a t e d   g l a n c e s ,   a n d   I   h e a r   t h e m   a n d   t h e i r  p u b l i c  
p i l l o w   t a l k ,   a n d   I   s m e l l   h e r   s p e c i a l   p e r f u m e   t h a t   s h e   
r e s e r v e s   o n l y   f o r   h i s   v i s i t a t i o n s ,   a n d   I   w o r r y   t h a t   s h e ' s   
r u n n i n g   o u t   o f   i t   b e c a u s e   h e ' s   s e e i n g   h e r   e v e r y   d a y n o w . 

It smells like rose water. 

I   n o t i c e   t h a t   s h e ' s   t a k i n g   m o r e   t i m e   t o   p o w d e r   h e r   n o s e   
a n d   d o   h e r   l a s h e s   a n d   h e r   b r o w s .   H e   s a y s   h e r   m o r n i n g   
f a c e   i s   j u s t   a s   a d o r a b l e   r e g a r d l e s s ,   a n d   I   s m i l e   i n   s e c r e t b e c a u s e   h e r   e x c e e d i n g l y   t h i n   b r o w s   r e m i n d   m e   o f   W h o o p i G o l d b e r g .   H e   a d o r e s   h e r .   

S h e   d e n i e s   t h e   a d o r a t i o n   i s   m u t u a l ,   a n d   I   a m   n o t   b u y i n g   
i t .   I   d o   n o t   r u m m a g e ,   b u t   I   h a l f   e x p e c t   h e r   t o   r e p l e n i s h   
h e r   v a n i t y   k i t   a n d   t h a t   G o d   d a m n e d   b o t t l e   o f   p e r f u m e   a n y t i m e   n o w .   

T h e i r s   i s   a   c o u r t s h i p   t h a t   s p r i n t e d   l i k e   t h e   u n d e a d   i n   
Z o m b i e   L a n d .   I t   w a s   m I n d l e s s   a n d   h e e d l e s s   a n d ,   l i k e   h o w z o m b i e s   h a p p e n ,   i s   l a r g e l y   u n e x p l a i n e d .   A n d   i t   i s   j u s t   a s m i l d l y   e n t e r t a i n i n g   t o   w a t c h ,   m o s t l y   b e c a u s e   o f   t h e   
s u d d e n   p a r o x y s m s   o f   c h e e s y   t h a t   w e   e x p e c t   o f   t h e s e   f r e e s h o w s .   

A n d   t h e n   I   r e m e m b e r   t h a t   I   h a v e   r e a c h e d   t h a t   a g e   w h e r e , a s   f a r   a s   r e l a t i o n s h i p s   g o ,   I   a m   m o r e   c a r e f u l   t h a n   I   a m   h o p e f u l .   S o   I   h a v e   e l e c t e d   t o   b e   h a p p y   f o r   t h e m ,   i n s t e a d .   

The Seven Annoying Facebook Posters (Introducing The Loser Meter!)

**Seven. Like the deadly sins. And in spite of this, I'm glad that Facebook doesn't have a Post On a Need to Know Basis in the fine print. I wouldn't have material otherwise. And before we begin with this playful list, I challenge you, my Dearly Beloved reader, to ask yourself this.



I am writing a post that will boost my Facebook posts, but that took longer than an erection on some pothead. That explains this repost. I wrote this in November 2010. It can use an update, but it's still relevant.

Seven. Like the deadly sins. I will be updating this post soon to include "The Sudden Expert," "The Nearly Faceless," and "The Spoiler." 

1. The "I Heart My Macchiato" Poster
This is usually accompanied by a picture of a half eaten banofee pie and a Tall Caramel Macchiato with their name painstakingly made visible on that one shot. I get it. You have hand-me-down taste. And it would have been so very special, so damned special if there weren't one billion of your social climbing kind out there. Underscore would have been. Stick to your calls.

LOSER RATING: This poster doesn't qualify. There's nothing wrong with this kind of poster, but a ratio of four Machiato posts to one generic post is doubtful.

2. The 20-year Old Kid and His Unsolicited Love Advice
I say grow up, get yourself a haircut, move out of your parents' house, start supporting yourself, and then tell me about it. If I wanted advice on that crazy little thing called love, then I'd get me a mother fucking fortune cookie. Or read the horoscope. Or buy me a Bob Ong book and then count the number of times he's been plagiarized by you little boys and girls just for the devilish fun of it.

LOSER RATING: Doesn't qualify. I'm not saying you're dumb. Far from it. I simply have no employment for your advice.

3. The "I Hate Your Guts, But I'm Too Chicken to Tell It To Your Face, So I'll Post a Shout Out Instead and Wait for the Comments Because I'd Rather Have Sympathy Over Courage"
They were mighty fluent during the last election period. And they can't get enough exclamation points. I had to import mine from China.

LOSER RATING:





4. The "I Have a New Post in My Blog, and I Will Be Too Cross-Eyed with Delight If You Guys Can Click on this Link Here."
Faggot, if we know you have a blog, and if we liked the shit you wrote about the last time you endorsed your proud waste of internet space, then we'll bookmark you, and you don't have to ask. So stop distracting me, bitch. I'm uploading my macchiato/banofee pics.

LOSER RATING:






5. The "I'm Telling You Anway" Poster
Personally, this has got to be the most self-absorbed of the lot. He's too self-absorbed, you'd think his physical constitution is made of up 40% water and 60% cotton. He posts about the most useless triviality, the most unusable detail, the superficial more often than not that he prompts the question:

And we should know this because?

Really, we're just so positively thrilled that you "just woke up :)," or that you're "cooking beef tapa," or that you're "4 cm na," but seriously, why do I need to know that?
LOSER RATING:





6. The "Poor You" Poster
There's this one loser in my network who shouted out that he's not going to be on Facebook for a few days. Nobody made a comment. A few days later, he posted a follow up shout out saying he's back. Again, nobody posted a comment. Sigh, this poor thing was thinking somebody cared. Let it be known that this facet of social networking, i.e. getting ignored, is most certainly heart breaking because it defeats the point of a subscription. But I have to admit, that shit is entertaining most especially when that somebody is getting ignored twice.

It can be argued that this kind of poster, the "Poor You" poster, is a distant relative of the "I'm Telling You Anyway" poster , but unlike the latter, the often-ignored "Poor You" poster is amusing. Because he's relentless.

His shallow shout outs, and that's a staggering understatement, rarely, if not never, get the props he was shooting at. Like the "I'm Telling You Anyway" poster, this attention whore just can't cut it, but, for some reason, he's far too encouraged by all that conceit that he goes for yet another nip at attention. Which he doesn't get. One can be led to believe that all the 300-plus people in this loser's network died over the weekend. Or he's just dead to them to begin with, and he's just there for quantity. The poor little bastard needs a consolation, so here's a customized comment you can use if you suspect one of these losers in your network:

"I don't know where you get your sense of entitlement, but you need to lose it."

LOSER RATING:






7. The "I Like What I Said" Poster
There was this one gay loser kid (Jesus, I need to trim these people down) in my network who posted that he's in a relationship. And it looks like he liked it so much that he was the first one to click on the LIKE link. Which doesn't make sense to me, because you don't post things like that if you didn't. Now it would have been fantastic, like in a fantasy, if his audience humored his bullshit, like good fucking sports, but no. The "I Like What I Said" poster's was the only acknowledgment on his own shout out. And that's just sad.

Imagine laughing at your own joke because nobody found it funny. That's the "I Like What I Said" poster for you, and he's an unprecedented height of pathetic. Because he's doing it for the fake props, and not to save face.
LOSER RATING:

Shit Break Two of Four

I am now taking a shit break from all this shit that I am shitting you with pleasure, My Dearly Beloved Sweet Nuts. I do this once every quarter. Meanwhile, I have been shitting you guys since 2003. This means I have plenty of bullshit you can check out.