HELGA & ALLAH COOKING GHETTO STYLE.

January 29, 2008 at 8:34 pm | Filed under breaking up the girl, camwhorage, totally domestic

Lover going back home in a week. Would rather not talk about how much this devastates me. Maybe when the dreaded day comes.

Today, to keep my mind off of things, I put on some happy music (aka Hanson), broke a glass tile, and decided to make some carbonara. I whipped out the instructions my dad dictated to me while he drove me home from the grocery a couple of weeks ago and began the therapeutic process of cooking. Nevermind that everything I cook has this tendency to make my stomach stage a mutiny against the rest of my body (or maybe that was just that one time I put too much olive oil in my pesto).

Halfway through it, housemate #1 came home. So I give you: Helga and Allah, Cooking Ghetto Style. That’s what one gets with an ill-equipped kitchen.

KEEP YOUR EYES ON THE PAN, PLZ. AWAY FROM THE TUMMY.

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FRIDAY FIVE vi: FIVE SHORT REASONS WHY I WANT BIGGER BEWBS.

January 25, 2008 at 11:48 am | Filed under lists

First, I’d like to begin this entry with three very short open letters.

Dear Future/Potential Employers Who Googled My Name for A Background Check,

These aren’t my boobs. And the girl in all the half-naked underwear-clad pictures found on this blog (clue: sidebar–> categories–> camwhorage. Enjoy)? NOT ME. Sorry. I’m too much of a busy and insanely focused-on-her-job person to spend her time in front of her living room mirror snapping photo after photo of herself for internet-whoring purposes. I know, I know. The girl suspiciously looks very much like me, but I’m telling you now: IT’S NOT ME!!!

Thank you,
Helga

Dear Lover,

Please don’t email my mom my URL.

Love,
Helga

Dear Mom,

Uh, hi. The half-naked underwear-clad chick in the pictures? Totally found her on Myspace. I just Photoshopped my face onto her body. Swear.

Love,
Helga

Now that that’s out of the way, I give you: five superduper short reasons why I want a bewb job!

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MORNING STRESS BROUGHT TO YOU BY THE MRT.

January 23, 2008 at 12:16 pm | Filed under bitchin' a ride, urban primadonna

Good morning, Helga, today is going to be an aaaawessssome! day! You woke up at 5am— three and a half hours before your class— giving you enough time to laze about and squeeze in some quality time with your Sims 2 families before having to embark on the wonderful one hour trip to school. You BOUNCE! out of bed, SKIP! to the kitchen, make your coffee with a HUGE SMILE! on your face (my my, someone’s perky this morning), and PLOP! DOWN! HAPPILY! in front of your laptop.

At 630am, you exit Sims 2, put on some Handsome Boy Modeling School, and dance around your living room as you CHEERFULLY! and EXCITEDLY! prepare yourself for work school. Jeans? Check. Top? Check. Flipflops? Check. Panties? Check. Bra? Why, check! Make-up? Check! All the nifty and useless things that go into your bag? Check!

Now say it like Spongebob: I’m ready! I’m ready! I’m ready!

You’re out your front door a little past 7am and after a trike ride, some walking, a quick LRT2 ride from Katipunan Station (the first and only underground air-conditioned station! Katipunan Kidz Reprazent!) to Cubao Station, and some more walking, you finally arrive at the Cubao MRT Station. Aaaahhhh. Smell that, Helga? That is not the smell of last Christmas’s dinner. That, my dear, is the vomit-inducing, appetite-killing, stomach-churning stenches of hell. Sometimes also known as the masses, but not when it’s this early morning and everyone looks like they just stepped out of the shower, what with their wet heads and the scent of Safeguard white on their skin.

Surprisingly, there are no lines this morning. What happy happy joy joy! You make your way up to the escalator leading to the platform and that’s when you see your first glimpse of the fiery pits of hell: A Massive Crowd.

Never the mind. The glowing red numbers on the station’s digital clock reads 720am. All’s good. It takes less than 15 minutes to get from Cubao to Buendia Station and it’s only a quick walk to your building from there. You SORTA-EAGERLY! join the crowd and wait patiently for the train.

Train comes. You get pushed to the left, the right, get pulled back a bit, and then pushed forward a bit— but never pushed forward enough to get your body inside the train.

Second train comes. You get pushed to the left, the right, get pulled back a bit, and then pushed forward a bit— but never pushed forward enough to get your body inside the train. This is all happening as you stand there, motionless. The crowd. It moves you! In an unpleasant and physical way.

Third train comes. No one gets out. No one gets in.

Fourth train comes.

Fifth train.

Sixth train. Someone’s breath stinks.

Seventh train. Can someone please, for the love of all things good and holy and cute, stop stepping on your toes?

Ninth train.

Tenth train. Lol. Someone’s fucking with you. You been waiting for 20 minutes now.

Eleventh train. You get pushed. Left. Right. Left. Right. Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Oh no you di-i-n’t. Up. Up. Down. Down. Left. Right. Left. Right. A. B. Select. Start!

I’M SUPAAAAHH-CHARGED AND I GOTS 30 LIVES, IMMA KILL YOU ALL!!!!!!!! LET! ME! IN! THE! MOTHER! FUCKING! TRAIN!

And to that fagface who kept on cursing and yelling “PARANG MGA DI BABAE!” (Trans: Oooh, you guys are so rough! Like men! Que horrorz!) while the crowd so nicely pushed her inside the train: you stupid.

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SOMEONE’S A STUDENT.

January 21, 2008 at 10:21 pm | Filed under camwhorage, ditz drivel

First day of formal web design class today and I was royally bored for the sole reason that I had to endure four hours of basic html/xhtml— stuff that I learned on my own when I was 12. Almost over ten freakin’ years ago.

The youngest in our small class of five is this 13-year old dude who just graduated grade school. He said he’ll be moving to the US for high school and he’s taking up web design so he could earn money during the wait (or something like that. The moment he said he was 13, I lost all interest). Several times, I heard him exclaim “I’m just a kid!” when we were made to work on an exercise). I kept thinking: “how lucky is this kid?” When I was 12 and had just discovered gURLpages and the wonderful world of HTML, it never hit me that I could make a career out of making and designing websites. There were no schools that offered courses or classes on it back then (hell, the school I’m attending now was founded only 7 years ago). I was just a kid fooling around with WYSIWYG editors, outlining her layouts and content on notebooks, and doing her best to make sense out of strings of code and tags.

I was young and stupid, though. Not realizing my full potential (naks!) at an early age and not taking seriously the fact that I knew how to code (during a time when all my peers did was chat on mIRC and ICQ and host their photos on face-pic.com), I merely dicked around the innurnets and went down the blogging path. Ten years later and I’m still dicking around. All I have to show is a good grasp of HTML and CSS and some knowledge on PHP. I am SO left behind. I don’t even know Flash! I only have Photoshop CS2! I just recently started using the pen tool for cutouts and I still prefer the lasso tool! I still code using Notepad!

Anyways, finally, I have a goal (one that isn’t amoral and doesn’t entail anything illegal): to be the first student to ever get a certificate of excellence from my school. The final project is to create a fully functional website and it’s quite alarming, how easy and simple it is. Did I just waste my mother’s money? To make up for the expense, I’m seriously tempted to make a porn site.

My new favoritest thing in the world: Hershey’s Cookies ‘n’ Creme milk drink. I was STAAAARVING the whole day because I forgot to eat the whole Sunday and I didn’t have time to ingest anything but coffee this morning, so I was super glad to come home to this (yeah, I’m shallow and easy to please like that):

Yummers.

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HAIR-RIBLE. OPEN TO SUGGESTIONS. MAYBE.

January 16, 2008 at 7:18 pm | Filed under camwhorage, mr wonderful

I’m due for a haircut; I’ve been due for one since, I don’t know, 1993. Okay, so maybe just late last year, but it feels like forever. My last haircut was April 2007 and the reason I’ve left my hair as is is because I want Norah Jones-esque curls. Except my mom said curls won’t suit my fat face and quite honestly, I think I agree. That, and my dry ends make brushing my hair a pain. So it’s time for a haircut.

Or maybe waves, not curls? Gaaah, I really want non-straight hair:

Egh. I’m bound to do something useless and just have the stylist at Fix do the usual: chop off two to three inches and add more layers. A stubborn and most lilkely to be wrong part of me wants bangs. Again. Even though the last time I grew them out and once again had normal layered hair, a gay friend looked at me and noticed FOR THE FIRST TIME IN THE MONTHS I’VE KNOWN HIM that I wasn’t “hideous” (that was the exact word he used).

Anyhoots. Bangs or no bangs?:

I know, I know. I have no non-retarded photos of me with bangs. Or without bangs. I am apparently incapable of just looking at the camera and not smiling or grinning like an idiot.

I’d like to go for a bob or super short hair, but I haven’t had short hair since forever:

HELP.

That’s all. Nothing exciting happening. My unemployed ass revolves around books, DVDs, a non-existent diet, and Sims 2. A conversation with the lover that took place the other night:

Helga: You know, our sims have sex everyday.
Lover: Nagpaparinig ka? (Trans: what are you trying to say?)
Helga: I should be able to just click on you: cuddle, kiss, make out, woohoo.
Lover: Oh my god.

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