Helga Gabrielle Weber. Turning 23. Gemini. Youngest daughter. Is hoping her folks never feel the need to google her name.
Recently moved in with her folks. After six years of not living with them. Is slowly adjusting to eating actual and real breakfasts aka “PLZ, DAD, JUST ONE ORANGE, NOT TWO”. Will never adjust to parental nagging and questions on what time she’ll be home and what is she doing still up when she has class tomorrow.
Studied International Studies majoring in International Politics for four years. Attended an exclusive all-girls Catholic college. Was PWND by her Little Thesis That Could (But Wasn’t). Currently taking formal classes in web design. Aspires to be a web designer and graphic artist. Wish her luck. Or give her money. Either works, but the latter is preferred.
Fell down two flights of stairs twice. She was drunk. Once busted her wrist when she attempted to do a yoga position. She was drunk. Once crossed half of Katipunan Avenue at three-ish in the morning to sit on a U-turn slot’s cement road block. She was drunk. She managed to sit her ass on it, though, for a few seconds before sliding off the thing.
No longer drinks. As much as she used to. No longer gets drunk. On a nightly basis.
Still smokes. A lot. Marlboro Reds.
Loves cats. Has bites and scratches to prove it.
Has been operating on PST this past half and a month. And no, that PST does not stand for Philippine Standard Time.
Has days when she’s the target of unwanted male attention. Can’t decide which day was worse: that one morning on her way to school and she woke up in an FX and the bastard to her left had his fingers on her left boob. Orrrr that time she was on her cigarette break and the sleaze who looked up her skirt had the nerve to smile at her when she caught him.
Constantly drafts open letters to the Filipino masses in her head. These open letters usually begin with “You don’t know me and neither do I know you, but I know you well enough to know that you fucking suck. And smell. Really really bad. Especially when it’s 5pm and we’re all on our way home and you’re sitting thisfrikkenclosetome. Some sound advice: keep your armpits to yourselves. And please stop eating, you’re already too fat.”
And these open letters usually end with “And please
stop talking don’t talk to me because no way in hell am I going to tell you where I live. Kk. Go away.”
Thanks to everyone who offered me hosting and everyone who wished they could give me some of their bandwidth (lol)— I really do appreciate it. I’ve solved my bandwidth issues, finally upgraded my WordPress, and got helgaweber.com which shall serve as a playground or portfolio of some sort. I feel so flofeshonal now, teehee. On an unrelated note, check out this Sale here.