Archive for June, 2006
June 16, 2006 at 7:03 am | Filed under a waste of human capital, joyful girl, technicolor lover
I slipped and fell on my ass (and on a puddle of water) on my way to work last night. NOT FUN. I had sent my supervisor a message that I was going to be late because it was raining heaven and hell outside— apparently, the rain sort of made its way to my floor’s hallway, too. I walk back to my studio, take off my jeans, my shirt and my rubber flipflops; sit on my bed, whip out my phone and tap in another message for my supervisor: “TL, nadulas ako waaaaah. On my way to get a cab. *@&!#$^@#^%^@$%!”
She replies with an “Awww =( That’s what I call dedication! Ü”
I made my way caaaarefully down five flights of stairs. On the third landing, I almost slip— I grab the railing just in time, and end up breaking my cigarette in half. Sacrifice.
Dedication schmedication. I only changed shirts and my bag, so I came into the office with the left butt-side of my jeans soaking wet. And now they’re smelly. Puh. Or I think they are. I’m not about to ask someone to sniff them for me.
I’m cooking dinner for D Saturday night. I was about to say “It kinda sucks, though, cos he has work at 4am” until I got confused. I’m off this weekend, he’s off this Sunday. He works the 4am to 1pm shift. So does that mean he’s off Saturday night, too?
I gotta go shoot him an email.
It’s just going to be a simple dinner. Pasta, probably. And cookie dough ice cream. I’m gonna play the lazy girl part and just buy a jar of ready-made pesto.
Doesn’t he have plans with his girlfriend? Hmmm.
Argh, I’m confused.
June 14, 2006 at 5:02 am | Filed under ditz drivel, technicolor lover
D: Hey, take care on your way to work. I’m going out tonight.
Helga: Where ya going?
D: DJ and I are going out.
Helga: Hahaha ok, have fun.
D: Hehe, why the need for the hahaha?
Helga: Ok, have fun?
D: ‘Kaw talaga (I have no idea how to translate this into english. ‘Kaw is you, talaga is really).
Helga goes on to sulk smoke in the hallway couch with her copy of Kim Ficera’s Sex, Lies and Stereotypes. When men suck and you can’t do anything about it, turn to lesbian literature? After one stick, she goes back into her studio and gets all domestic: do the dishes, wipe the table, scrub and sweep the floor. Lalalala.
She then notices her pink phone lying on her green bedsheets. Two messages.
D: Oh, are you there?
D: You are such a snob today.
How about I drop-kick you. What exactly do you want me to say, “Wow, I’m glad you’re spending time with your girlfriend”???
Things I wanna do:
- Quit my job.
- Get a haircut.
- Eat a whole tray of chocolate drop cookies. Oh wait. I just did that.
- Eat pork sisig. Oh wait, I just did that, too.
I know I’ve always been a big eater, but this is absurd. I’ll be traipsing around my co-workers in a bikini in four days and I’m supposed to be living on green tea and cigarettes, NOT stuffing my face with sweets, carbs, and fat. Last night, I weighed myself for the first time after more than a week of not wanting to face the truth: 108 pounds. And this is after not eating for 8 hours.
June 11, 2006 at 7:56 am | Filed under a waste of human capital, joyful girl, technicolor lover, totally domestic
Several things:
ONE. My condo unit finally looks like a real living space now, not just some room with a bed on the floor. The parents came over Friday night, bringing with them the following:
- my fridge (which is decorated with white anti-rust spots. My fridge has pimples!)
- a bed frame
- my mirror (and it’s lovely lovely lovely)
- a foldable table
- a gas tank and a portable burner thing. It’s
weird ugly and scary. Must save up and buy an electric range.
They forgot to bring me chairs, so Daddy Dearest went to the fourth floor and swiped some patio chairs. “If they need it, let them go look for it.” My dad’s bad ass, yo.
TWO. After doing some groceries (I’d like my fridge to hold something that ISN’T water, yes) and getting take-out pizza, I shoo-ed my parents off, sponged the floor (my dad and his dirty boots, egh) and jumped into the shower. I send D a message that he could come over likerightnow.
He gets to my place 20 minutes later with McDonald’s take-out. Kenny’s was closed, so he had to settle for the next best chicken thing. I tell him his Diet Pepsi’s in the fridge (ooh, how I love having a fridge).
At 311am, I wake him up so he can ready himself for work. I give him my extra toothbrush.
Twelve hours later, D is back at my place, asking for a massage and pizza.
And he said he’ll be back sometime around noon today, after basketball practice with a bunch of our co-workers.
THREE. D’s girlfriend quit her job yesterday. She no longer works four floors above us.
FOUR. We have system issues, so no one’s getting much work done. I’ve only had two sales today, 16 this week. This is bad.
FIVE. I haven’t enrolled. NOTcompletelyMYFAULT, the cashier closed on me last Friday. I swear I’ll be a student by Tuesday!
SIX. Program beach trip this Sunday and I is excited. At the same time, D and I are silly-nervous. What if I get drunk and spill our little secret? I told him the only solution to this is to get me dead drunk so I’ll pass out, hence, no word vomit. But neither of us want that (it’s no fun, and he said I might end up spread-eagled on the sand with my panties peeking through for everyone to see). I. Must. Behave.
We’ve agreed that I’m gonna go yell out “D*****, you’re so hot!” in front of everyone, though. ;)
SEVEN. Why isn’t anyone asking for photos of my new place? :P
EIGHT. One week to lose ten pounds!
NINE. I fucking hate the word ‘churva’. With a burning passion. :mad:
June 9, 2006 at 4:41 am | Filed under college rat, ditz drivel
I’ve been putting off enrolling for college for more than a week now. The new semester began last Tuesday, and I guess the main reason I haven’t been hauling my ass to my college’s Records section is because my first class isn’t until Saturday at 8am.
No. Wait. That isn’t the reason. The truth is, I haven’t been cleared from last semester. I still have ONE requirement to submit, before I can finally make my way to fifth-year status. And you know what sucks? It’s only a four-page reflection paper that I need to pass to the college guidance center. A four-paged, double-spaced, Times New Roman size 12 paper is a piece of cake. I can churn out a two-page, single-spaced essay on trade liberalization and the Philippines in half an hour. I can write about Asian sweatshops and globalization in the same span of time it takes me to write an LJ entry. So why has it taken me MONTHS to get started on this four-page non-academic, I-don’t-even-need-references essay?
Because I. Am supposed to write. About. My experiences. And lessons learned. In college.
I’MNOTEVENDONEWITHCOLLEGEYET.
Every year, the guidance center requires us students to submit such requirements, and I’m pretty sure not one of those hundreds of papers are read. I am tempted to just actually write the first and last page and fill in pages two and three with lyrics from a song or re-hashed verses out of the Bible. =/
It’s one of my biggest annoyances, too, how people put their college years on a pedestal. Like it’s supposed to be the culmination of twenty or so years of existence. Like it actually prepares you for The Real World. I go to college to get an education, not to glorify whatever “life lessons” I may or may not have learned; and not to fucking feed my school’s ego by putting on paper such bullshit like “OMGZ, college was such an eye-opener for me, I became a citizen of the world after four years of being holed-up in the buildings of this institution.”
I love my course, I love my professors, I’m pretty sure I’m going to love the three classes I’ll be enrolling for later this morning. But I hate my college, I hate the administration, and I hate that I’m overstaying (yes, I know it’s my fault).
Just two more semesters.
I’m having a shitty day at work. =/
June 8, 2006 at 4:38 am | Filed under ditz drivel, joyful girl, technicolor lover
Once again, my insecurities kept me from trying out things that I’ve always wanted to do. Last week, an acquaintance asked me to VTR for his band’s next music video. It so happens that the video is for my favorite track off of their album (’Oo‘, le sigh). Being me (and in typical Filipino fashion), I replied with a “I’m shy. And I’m fat.”
The VTR was yesterday. I didn’t go. Another one was set, this time at the director’s house. I’m still not going.
Just like last year, when I was invited for a print ad go-see for a friend’s brother’s clothing line. My excuse was that I was too busy with school—- which was the truth. I was thin and tanned that time, just swamped with school work. Anyway, the billboard came out some months ago and the first time I saw it along EDSA, I giggled to the best friend: “my face should be up there.” :P
I need strawberries. And liposuction. Then maybe my confidence and body image would exponentially increase. ;)
On to D. He’s here, yay! I don’t know what’s up his ass, though. He’s been acting somwhat boyfriend-y, which is prompting me to act accordingly. This isn’t good, because I know I’ll end up stepping into “don’t go there!” territory (otherwise known as ‘looooove’). “Why do you have to be in your underwear in your Friendster photos?”, “Why aren’t you texting me?”, “Who’s that guy?”, “What is he to you?”, “Why are you avoiding my questions?”.
Or maybe it’s just ego. His.
Crossing my fingers for Friday night. Him. Me. Pizza. My place. Please.
Hi, my name's Helga Weber and welcome to my personal site. I'm 23. My first socio-political scandal will happen at the age of 35 and will include men, sushi, an African country, and lots of money. My lover is the greatest. 
