THREE THINGS.

March 30, 2007 at 7:46 pm | Filed under Y!M conversations, a waste of human capital, technicolor lover

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.

Three. Goat.

Okay, I’m off to get bitchslapped by Sabre, I’d rather deal with free insurance quotes. :(

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AND IN THIS CORNER, WE HAVE!

March 28, 2007 at 12:23 am | Filed under ditz drivel, technicolor lover, the internets

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.

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WHEN THE WEEKEND LANDS.

March 26, 2007 at 12:19 am | Filed under camwhorage, joyful girl

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!

Klassy is hot stuff beautiful.

Tequila Barbie.

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.

Happy!

I ♥ 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.

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STOP, LOOK, DISCERN.

March 24, 2007 at 3:28 am | Filed under technicolor lover

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.

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SO MUCH FOR A&As.

March 19, 2007 at 4:12 am | Filed under the helga manual, the single girl phenomenon

You fall in love with a person because your subconscious likes something about their subconscious, and it isn’t until much later that you discover that the thing your subconscious liked was the fact that this person was built to hurt you in precisely the way you most fear.

-Sarah Dunn

I like passenger seats and long car rides and the comfort of a seatbelt.

I like the words ’strident’ and ‘ennui’ and ‘tachycardia’ and ‘tribulation’.

I like crossword puzzles and Free Cell and sometimes, Scrabble.

I like being kissed on my forehead and being hugged while sleeping and biting your lower lip and my nose rubbing against your nose and cuddling and curling up really close next to you and lazy morning sex.

I like stuffing my mouth with food until breathing becomes a challenge, and then starving myself for the next couple of days to make up for the consumed calories.

I like hospitals and hotel rooms and waking up in strange places and staying up late in stranger places.

I like getting lost— in the city, in moments, in my own cigarette smoke.

I like the smell of tuna straight from the can and freshly-cut grass and laundromats and Coppertone and his hair at the end of the day.

I like the beach and the spray of saltwater on my face and the sting of the midday sun on my skin and feeling the sand grate, and the wind whip, against my body.

I like fries stuffed into my burger and green salads with lots of cheese and chicken swimming in gravy and caramel sundaes.

I like bad reality tv shows and movies that make me go ‘whoa’ and songs that make me hit the pause button while I write down a line or two.

I like noise and comfortable silences and conversations that go nowhere.

I like after-sex silences; after-sex conversations; after-sex cuddling; after-sex fights.

I like getting my heart tangled and realizing I was wrong just a little too late and picking up the pieces and having a bottle of alcohol swat away all emotions.

the boys i mean are not refined
they go with girls who buck and bite
they do not give a fuck for luck
they hump them thirteen times a night

-e.e. cummings

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