EDIT// Haha! Who bitchslapped who— I fucking aced the assessment.
One. I feel like stabbing my head with a spoon. One week of learning and working with Sabre and I’m about thisclose to giving up and endorsing myself to our HR department for a position in maintenance. It’s all codes and commands and again: I REFUSE! to be had by a string of letters and crosses of Lorraines and filters and dashes and slashes and ARGH!!! It all follows a certain logic and I’ve got that nailed. It’s the fact that I. Don’t. Get. The Process. that’s killing me. And command pricing (forcing prices on flights) has me down on my knees.
I’m scared (not skurrred) for tonight’s first assessment.
Two. The other morning, D sent me the most romantic message in the eleven months we’ve known each other: You suck, dude.
A heart tug, a heart pop!, and after four months, I finally get it. I don’t recycle men.
Okay, I’m off to get bitchslapped by Sabre, I’d rather deal with free insurance quotes. :(
Mikey has challenged me to a drinkoff.
Too lazy to click the link? You suck Cambodian smelly garbage man balls.
Helga: You and me. Anywhere in Ortigas. First one who throws up(Or loses all sense of inhibition and proceeds to do something silly) loses. What say you? *Slaps Helga with a leather glove*
In other news, D is bugging me for a rebooty. It’s either I’m that good, or his girlfriend really just sucks.
Yay, edit, because sex videos are sex videos, rawr! See a penis inside the vagina? And lots more, like some guy making love to his flashlight.
I think Saturdays are pretty awesome.
Last night was insane, though, and I’d rather forget about it and will myself into thinking it never existed. So. Photos from last last Saturday, during Misha‘s (who is one yummy stud muffin and has a hot last name) and Adrian‘s joint birthday bash. Possibly one of the best Saturday nights spent in the city ever. Because we ended up in Tagaytay, hehe. Plus, it was the good kind of drunk, as I was still pretty lucid when Klassy drove me home at six in the morning, Sunday.
Throwing myself at the birthday boy. And yes, that’s my underwear.
Fabulous people. But Ade’s missing.
Who wants a penis up their ass? You do!
Sanya let me smoke in her car!
hot stuff beautiful.
Misha and I were up to something?
Misha is so hot.
There’s something very Hanson-y about this shot. And no, it’s just not cos of the two fan girls.
I Ã¢â„¢Â¥ these boys. See, the party was more than a week ago and I’m still recovering. Well, not really.
I think I wanna go sober.
There’s always something slightly melancholic when talking to an ex, no matter how well the conversation goes. And of course, being me, that wistfulness is quickly swatted away once verbal carnal sweetness comes into play.
Someone from my recent past has made his way back into (k, that’s enough links) my present.
Apparently, the girlfriend isn’t performing her fleshly duties.
Two wrongs are only the beginning.
Just to say: because pay day is two weeks away and I need new refrigerator water filters, I have temporarily moved back in with my folks. There are pros (I have access to the intarwebs, even though its dial-up!!1) and cons (we never run out of food). So for the past few days, I’ve been taking public transportation back and forth Antipolo and Makati, and I realize: it fucking sucks. Like, no word or phrase or sentence can convey just how much I hate passing through C-5/Pasig at two to two-thirty in the afternoon. I’ve already been late three times this week.
Anyway. I usually take the bus from the office until Galleria, and then take a cab home from there. Tonight, I took the bus all the way to Valley Golf since our trainor let us out an hour early (
for the sheer lack of anything to do to review for our US geography exam later). And two things happened:
1) The guy sitting next to me slipped me his calling card before getting off the bus. Well, not really slipped slipped. More like he put his card on top of the crossword puzzle I was answering (Rosario, Pasig and its All-Day All-Night Traffic Specials). Lulz, and his name is Jojo.
2) I ran out of phone credits just as I was about to text my mom that I was near our village (so my brother could pick me up at the gate). No working pay phone, no store where I could buy credits for my mobile. For ten seconds or so, I seriously thought I was fucked and would have to walk the five miles (or maybe even more omgz) home. Until I saw the guard house.
Life is so exciting.
I’m glad that
alcohol the weekend still makes me giddy. And I’m gonna be a normal person next week in the 7am to 3pm shift.
And yes, Klassy, I remember:
Oh, Miriam College days.