And so started my ascent into a Helgaholic addiction with no hope for a cure. Who’d have thunk that deceptive mix of moonshine and honey could knock me off my feet in 300 words or less? It kinda sneaks up on you while you’re trying to figure out what the aftertaste is: Subtly sweet, slightly bitter, and burns the back of your throat a bit before the heady essence kicks in and takes you for the ride of your life.

Somehow that set the tone for our unlikely relationship, one that started with the statement, “I’m a fan.”* Me attempting to figure out what makes the Helga tick (perhaps in the hopes that knowing my enemy will help me conquer it), and her, effortlessly eluding definition, every step of the way. Before long I’d fallen into the Helga Trap.

How does one even classify such a creature?

The Good…
Helga writes with an unapologetic style that, for lack of a better superlative, can only be called brilliant. Her ability to find lulz in the most mundane things coupled with her wondrous command of the English language (injected with her own patented brand of self deprecating humor) have given a great many of us the kind of hard to suppress, physically manifesting mirth that can embarrass you had you been perusing her blog at Starbucks. Alone. (No, that wasn’t me, really.) It was first that innate sense of literary comedic timing that sucked me in, and because Helga is somehow able to port that perfectly into real life outside of the inurnets, has kept me captivated till now. Every hour spent with her is like a minute reading her entries, at times immersing you in self analysis as her sarcasm bites and takes hold, or just making you laugh out loud at the funnies she can seemingly conjure out of thin air.

The Bad…
What you see on here is the real deal, only I have it better than almost anybody else – I can kiss it. I’ve been trapped since the day she unabashedly held me over the railings of her lifestyle and with an evil grin promptly let me go, to see if I would sink or swim. And swim I did; an awkward dog paddle at first while I acclimated my stomach (and alcohol tolerance) to the questionable fare of her late night carousing with the spirits, to the more confident (yet still shaky) breaststroke that surprised even her closest friends who considered me a lost cause. Just to confess to you now Duckie, I cheated; it was mostly ice…and mostly Coke. And I only did that to be sober enough to help you find religion on your bed.

The Baddest…
She’s not without her contradictions. When she frolics with the demon T’Anduay and his erstwhile sidekick, K’ok, (jointly known as the sneaky inebriator duo, Rumcola), no doubt Helga rawks out with the best of them. I’ve also seen her unknowingly becoming the center of attention in a bar full of women trying to be just that; a beautifully giddy, funny, and incredibly indifferent foil to their vain attempts. But what truly sets her apart by a wide margin (besides lips surely drawn from one of Michelangelo’s wet dreams), are the random bursts of brilliance that rival her crappy cam’s pathetic excuse for a flash. The Helga I’ve come to know brings out the best in others, deftly extracting wit out of alcohol hazes and ingeniously infusing a routine night out with memories worth remembering. What’s even crazier is, she doesn’t even try.

And as it goes, she’s brought out the best in me. I’ve come to find that our humor runs along the same twisted path, ranging from the pathetically corny to the sweetest of inside jokes, which I feel truly privileged to be sharing with the likes of one such as Helga. (insert corny music here) I am the greatest when I’m with her; she’s the red and blue glasses that makes my 3-D movie look right. Life just gets more real when viewed through her eyes. I’m still a fan, and always will be. I guess I have it good. =)

It’s a big day for you baby, 23 for 23. Sounds perfect to me.

Happy birthday, Duckie. I love you.

So this is my birthday tribute to Helga – Thegreatest

*I started oddly enough, as a fan. I guess that puts me square in the ranks of the average internet romeo, hoping to write the perfect pickup line in attempts to elicit a response on Myspace or Fezbook, and hoping even harder not to get laughed at in the process.

And now that she’s 23, Helga needs to be serious about her savings accounts. Yes, she has two. Both are in a state of destitution.

You know what I want— what I really want— for my birthday? Ice cream over cupcakes and him mouthing the words “I love you” at me from across the table.

Bah.

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23 for 23 is me posting one birthday-related entry a day (or at least attempts to), ending on May 31st. See all posts here.

To make up for the ten skipped parts, I originally thought of posting ten pictures from the last ten years, starting from 1998 when I was 13 (that was obviously me proving to you that I know math). It seemed like a brilliant idea until I attacked our family photo albums and realized that the pictures weren’t organized by year.

My brilliant idea was an immediate fail.

So I thought: oh what the heck, I’ll post pictures anyway (besides, why would I want to post pictures of my awkward phase which is basically me, aged 6-16?). Starting with a picture from my 1st birthday party! At McDonald’s! Followed by a picture of me blowing out my birthday candle at 4!

THAT THING ON MY NOSE…I DO NOT KNOW WHAT IT IS.

1. A very young me, evidenced by the fact that I am wearing a silly head thing for very young babies.
2. It looks like I’m peeing, but I am not.
3. Helga, age shorter-than-a-doorknob.
4. Me with a childhood toy I absolutely do not remember having.

1. Still with the same childhood toy. It surprises me how tiny I was.
2. This was a Christmas gift from someone. I remember breaking that thing in half while playing with it.
3. I think I also broke my brother’s Batman toy.
4. Me and my daddy!

1. At Manila Zoo. I have a bunch of pictures smiling like that.
2. You don’t see it, but I was sitting on a bilao.
3. My brother and I being total 80s kids (I was wearing lavender leggings, his sleeves were rolled up).
4. A prediction of things to come.

1. AWKWARD!
2. AWKWARD!
3. AWKWARD!
4. MOST AWKWARD!!!

I was a cute kid, if I may say so myself. Just ignore the last set.

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23 for 23 is me posting one birthday-related entry a day (or at least attempts to) for the next 23 days. See all posts here.

The good thing is: he’s getting me two.

The bad thing is: I want everything in their catalog. Yes, even the men’s shirts.

As if life as a 22-year old unemployed blogger isn’t hard enough. Sigh.

Anyway, lover and I already have one picked out:

We were both on the David and Goliath website the other day, browsing the women’s catalog, trying to decide on another design for me. Being the indecisive person that I am, and because David and Goliath shirts are serious bizniz, I told him I needed to sleep on it.

But now I need your help in narrowing down my choices. There’s nothing from the Little Losers series that I’d wear, so if any of you were planning on suggesting Miss BJ, Miss Lush, Miss Good Time, Miss Boobjob or Miss Trophy Wife, no thanks, teehee.

My choices are after the cut. I really like 2 & 4 (I only have one orange shirt and it’s so old and worn out). What about you?

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23 for 23 is me posting one birthday-related entry a day (or at least attempts to) for the next 23 days. See all posts here.

Okay, so he didn’t really say that. He just said to put in some dresses and maybe something sexy for him to get me, like lime green bike shorts.

Today’s entry is short and lists 3 things that I really really really want for my birthday. Unfortunately, hard as I tried, I couldn’t find any of those things on Amazon. So if any of you are hoping to get me the following as gifts, you’d have to really really really exert some effort here.

1. A kitten that doesn’t grow up.

2. Fried chicken that doesn’t make me fat.

3. A rainbow.

I really want. Especially #1, because when this kitty grows up, she’s going to be one crabby cat:

23 for 23 is me posting one birthday-related entry a day (or at least attempts to) for the next 23 days. Part 1 (or day is) is here.

I think I just lost my train of thought. Let’s try that one more time without the digressions.

I’d rather not ramble about my issues and how— despite finding myself in a fulfilling and emotionally-satisfying relationship— I still have my insecurities about people taking me seriously. So instead of going into that, what I’ll do is post one birthday-related entry a day for the next 23 days (yes, this is also me boosting author-based activity in this blog). Thus, 23 for 23. These entries may be part of a birthday wishlist, a realization, a random thought or observation, memories from birthdays past…anything. OMG, I just cringed at how cheesy I am sounding right now.

So to start the list! Something from my wishlist:

Mortgage life insurance Little Jenny Humphrey to go down. Blair Waldorf For The Mother Fucking Win. Yo, Gossip Girl writers! Heed this fan girl’s birthday wish, plz.