OR. THIS COULD BE PMS.

September 12, 2007 at 5:04 am | Filed under bitchin' a ride, camwhorage

BitchFace, grrawr!

I’m guessing it’s almost that time of the month that’s bringing about all these homicidal thoughts. This is not good, as I’m prone to think and act recklessly when annoyed and tend to be standoffish towards people whom I would otherwise adore, had my hormones not been acting all loony. I’m also irrationally paranoid and extra emotional during this time, which leads to resentment and bitterness over not being coddled and babied.

And then there are days where I’d rather be left alone to sulk.

Hey, at least this is just me PMS-ing. It’s a comforting thought that I’m not normally this way and that I’ll be back to my regular self in…in…in a couple of weeks. I’m bracing myself for the impending CARBS! CARBS! GIMME CARBS! phase that I go through, too. Oh boy.

Work LOL:

Caller: Umm, hi. I just made an itinerary and I accidentally cancelled it.
Helga: …Okay. And what do you want me to do?
Caller: Get it back?
Helga: …It’s been cancelled. I can’t uncancel it?

Seriously, we’re not God here.

I screwed up yesterday while testing password protected posts: I edited my templates-functions-post.php file to come up with a customized message which messed up several files which in turn barred me from logging in to my Wordpress dashboard. Suffice to say, that caused me an unfitful sleep. You laugh, but I refuse to get pwnt by some code.

Anyway, I’ve learned my lesson: password-protecting entries is gaynage.

FIVE AM! Time to go home! To a messy house and a sink full of dirty dishes, I bet. Argh.

Comments (9)

AGAIN, I HATE MY JOB.

September 10, 2007 at 11:56 pm | Filed under a waste of human capital, bitchin' a ride, mr wonderful

I’m getting more and more aggravated with my job, and I’m seriously thinking about resigning. This is how I usually feel on Mondays, the most stressful day of the week, but this has been my disposition the whole week last week. In the beginning (aka these past six months), I was somehow able to contain my annoyance; now, the novelty has worn off, I’m quickly losing my patience with the account, and I constantly find myself in a bad mood.

The only thing holding me back from tendering my resgination is that I don’t have time to look for (yet) another (call center) job. I need to get out of this industry, and I swear I will. Eventually.

Moving on to happier un-stressful things, I once again had a calorie-laden sexy-mancandied weekend involving the sinful combinations of cupcakes and ice cream, rum and cola, and (a lot of) fried chicken and rice. Life in binaries, how fun.

Diet. This week. Waking up on a Sunday morning chanting “Cupcakes cupcakes cupcakes!” speaks volumes about how out of control we are.

Something the mancandy sent me that got me giggling at 730pm:

“You really don’t see it?”

I really don’t. :cute:

(He’s been insisting the whole weekend that I have Vanessa Hudgens angles. I’m amused, but I think it’s simply old age affecting his eyesight. Also, I’m going easy on the blush.)

Comments (13)

ON (THE POSSIBILITY OF NEVER FALLING IN) LOVE (AGAIN).

September 8, 2007 at 3:26 am | Filed under mr wonderful, technicolor lover, the helga manual

I may be a sucker for romance (and I know I totally don’t look like it because I [act like] I’m badass and tough and seem to be the kind of person who knows jujitsu and aikido and can beat the shit out of your Navy Seal brother with a pair of glowsticks) …

… but I’m actually quite The Stupette when it comes to talking about matters of the heart. Perhaps it’s because being a sucker for romance does not necessarily translate into being a sucker for love. Or maybe it’s really because I’d really rather talk about double-sided tape, ring-necked pheasants that go ‘RRRRR!’, and Sheryl Cruz than theorize about love and analyze relationships. Also, because my EQ hasn’t gone up a bit since I first discovered the joys of sleeping with boyfriends inhaling toluene six years ago, I still stand by— and am quite content with— the belief that relationships are all about legalizing libog.

I’ve come to learn how to take things at face value and I try my best to keep my feet firmly planted on the ground (and more importantly, my head completely out of the clouds), but since I’m an emotionally-easy emotional wuss, I do have my moments. Like when I’m watching Only You or The Holiday or Breakfast At Tiffany’s or listening to Total Eclipse of the Heart. All these emotions, though, can be swatted away with a bottle of rum (or sobriety. Sometimes), so I still win.

It’s been years since I was last in love, though Aa aka the best friend has contradicted this statement, claiming and insisting that I loved a certain DBS person I carried on a thing with for a year and eight months a couple of years back. Umm, HOW ABOUT NO? Too, I know that if one checks out the annals of this blog, there exists an entry where I wrote about my admitting to someone that I loved him.

The truth is, I was being an idiot and used the term ‘love’ to justify my idiocy, because everyone (translation: a lot of people and a much younger Helga) has this idea that love or being in love causes one to commit a variety of stupid things and/or think stupidly when really, love should be a case of for you I want to sing a happier song / for you I’m gonna try to right all my wrongs / for you I’m gonna break my bad habits, yes? At least initially.

So I conclude that since I have a penchant for forever making excuses (as shown in the first line of the previous paragraph) for all strong emotions (other than that of wanting to get shitfaced drunk on a Saturday night) that courses through this cold-blooded body of mine, and because I have this too ideal idea of love that exists only in select lines out of movies (an example: “But I am mad about Jose. I honestly think I’d give up smoking if he asked me” from Breakfast at Tiffany’s) … I conclude that there is a huge possibility that I’m going to live life emotionally frigid.

Because everything about me needs validation from other people:

Helga, texting the mancandy: *giddy giggling*
Chatty: In love!
Helga: Huhwhat?
Drew: Hindi noh, ganyan talaga yan.

Mancandy: If I weren’t so secure about myself, I’d be worried that you still haven’t told me you love me.

(or something like that)

…
What the fuck was this all about?

Comments (14)

NOT. WORTH. IT.

September 7, 2007 at 5:01 am | Filed under bitchin' a ride

I hate it when my temper gets the best of me (because a bad mood is no excuse to be rude to other people), but I hate it more when I can’t do anything about it but suck it up and try my hardest to keep calm. And sulk. And wallow in self-pity for feeling as powerless as this.

I want nothing more than to starve myself to skinniness and lock myself up in my room.

ARGH.

Comments off

A BUSTED WRIST AND OTHER STORIES.

September 4, 2007 at 7:23 pm | Filed under admin, camwhorage

I’m supposed to be on my way to work but I have to go to the hospital first, have my right wrist immobilized or something, and get a medical certificate before I can show my face at the office. I am NEVER attempting to do yoga ever again. Whilst drunk, that is.

On changing my domain name. Well, I’ve got the choices down to three: helgatheweber.com, weberhasflavor.com (thanks, Baddie!), and helgaholic.com (as suggested by the mancandy). I super like all three; good thing I’m broke as a single mom with a drug addiction at the moment, so I have about 15 days to decide on one.

CT: helgaholic is available btw
CT: as is helgasms
helgatheweber: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
helgatheweber: Stop giving me more options!!!

Moving on, I want a Lomo. Like, I will pay 4252345 men to sleep with me for one. I mean, check this out:

Taken with my point-and-shoot Cybershot:

Taken with Jeanette, Drew’s Lomo:

Are you nodding with me here?

Again. Cybershot shot:

Versus Lomo shot:

Lomos: making drinking beer at 7 in the morning look good.

I WANT AN ACTION SAMPLER, TOO!!!

All Lomo shots are taken by the Katipunan Weather Boy.

Also, I’m never drinking again.

Also, I’ve tasted heaven. The much vaunted Cupcakes by Sonja over at Serendra? HEAVEN HEAVEN HEAVEN. Sonja should come up with, like, a rum cupcake. I mean, if the alcohol’s in my food, it’s not considered drinking, ya?

Comments (36)