Archive for bitchin' a ride
March 21, 2008 at 4:54 am | Filed under admin, bitchin' a ride, the helga manual
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.
March 11, 2008 at 8:16 pm | Filed under bitchin' a ride
This is probably going to do shit, but I am boycotting the Olympic Games. Like, I will not even watch a single game on TV.
This is probably going to do shit, too, but from now on, I wish all sorts of bad things upon Beijing. I hope your fucking economy crashes or something like that.
Doomed: Terrified cats crammed tightly into cages are hauled off to a meat market in Guangzhou
Thousands of pet cats in Beijing are being abandoned by their owners and sent to die in secretive government pounds as China mounts an aggressive drive to clean up the capital in preparation for the Olympic Games.
Hundreds of cats a day are being rounded and crammed into cages so small they cannot even turn around.
Then they are trucked to what animal welfare groups describe as death camps on the edges of the city.
Rest of the article here
But then, what do you expect from China— a country where human rights violations remain widespread and systematic? It’s not surprising that they treat animals this way.
This is sick and disgusting beyond words and something needs to be done about this.
I go hug my cats now :(
February 23, 2008 at 9:22 am | Filed under bitchin' a ride, camwhorage
You know your life sucks when you’re 22 and you’re still doing shit you used to do when you were 16. In my case, IT’S FUCKING LARA CROFTING MY WAY INSIDE “MY” HOUSE.
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February 10, 2008 at 6:15 pm | Filed under bitchin' a ride, breaking up the girl, mr wonderful
(I was supposed to upload a Wordpress theme that I created— not just modified— and guess what? I couldn’t log in to my FTP or Plesk. Why? My account’s been suspended WITHOUT WARNING OR MY KNOWLEDGE. Hurrah hurrah. FUCK THIS.)
It hits me at the weirdest times, like on my way to the bathroom he uses when he’s at my place or worse, when I figure out a code and have to share my success as a geek with someone (which happens a lot lately, considering that all I ever do now when I’m home is code. Hello, escapism).
It’s lonely without lover.
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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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Hi, my name's Helga Weber and welcome to my personal site. I'm 23. My first socio-political scandal will happen at the age of 35 and will include men, sushi, an African country, and lots of money. My lover is the greatest. 
