This is how we kiss and make up:

Para quits, I’ll tell you something I know you hate. Some girl is dancing up on me.
-D aka The Man Who Still Makes Me Go ‘Rawr!’ Because He Is One Hot Helga-fucker

I bet I can dance better than that bitch.
-Helga “Hahaha, You Think That’ll Piss Me Off?” Weber

Don’t worry, di ko pansin.
-D “Because I Get The Best Sexy Time From Helga Weber” M

You better be a good boy. Keep your dick where it belongs. IN YOUR PANTS. Or in my mouth.
-Helga “But Seriously, That Pissed Me Off” Weber

So anyway. This entry is brought to you by rhum, Valium, four hours of sleep, and post-teenage angst.

Or maybe not.

Nothing much happened over the weekend. Watched some DVDs, went on a 10-and-a-half-hour drinking spree (830am, good morning alcohol), walked around Katipunan drunk and in my pajamas looking for lubricant (you know, FOR SEX), ordered a bucket meal at KFC (drunk and still in my pajamas), and fell down some stairs. Because I had this brilliant idea of dropping two Vis with my drink.

All in all, it was a pretty good weekend. EXCEPT THE LOVER WASN’T IN MY BED. Asshole.

Just for the record, today’s weather is Olongapo whore-ish, with bouts of boredom. I’m so bored, I’m surfing Friendster. My lawd.