OH, THAT’S REALLY NICE, BEIJING.

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 :(

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GETTING IN, LARA CROFT-STYLE.

February 23, 2008 at 9:22 am | Filed under bitchin' a ride, photos

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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WELL, HOW WONDERFUL.

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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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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CABS, RUSH HOUR, MKAE.

January 9, 2008 at 11:15 pm | Filed under bitchin' a ride, urban primadonna

When it comes to hailing a cab in the metro between the hours of three and eight in the evening, only one rule applies: it’s every man for himself. For someone who doesn’t know how to drive (you laugh, but wait ’til I kill myself because I had one too many rumcolas and ended up ramming my car into a wall) and for someone who doesn’t own a car, the term ‘Rush Hour’ basically translates to “I, Helga Gabrielle Weber, am fucked; I might as well grab myself a 1-piece chicken with rice meal, a Tomato-Lettuce-Cheeseburger, and a large fries from Jollibee and head back to the condo to play more Sims 2 (which is actually the reason as to why I ended up not leaving home early enough to avoid rush hour) because there is no waaay in hell am I going to get out of Katipunan; not right now, not in the next hour, not until 9PM”.

That was the case the other day. Tonight, I did not have the liberty of flipping the evening Katipunan crowd the finger so I prepared myself for the worst, left my laptop at home, and traveled lightly (ooh, so dramatic for a twenty minute cab ride to Pasig).

I waited seven minutes for a cab outside my building (I know it was seven minutes because that’s how long it takes for me to smoke a cigarette) and nothing. I flagged down a tricycle, got off at McDonald’s, and walked down Katipunan Avenue because lawd knows I’d have better luck getting a cab there. I checked the time on my phone: a little past seven. I figured that most students must have gotten home by now and I’d have an easier time getting a cab. WRONG.

Now like I said: it’s every man (or woman) for himself (or herself) this time of the day. No acts of gentlemanliness or kindness occur when it comes to getting your ass in a cab; and really, no one expects any sort of chivalry during desperate times. What I do expect, though, is some fucking decency; some evidence that these rich college kids aren’t a bunch of assholes and fuckheads.

Or maybe I’m too mannered when it comes to certain things. Am I the only one who thinks that there’s such a thing as, uh, cab hailing etiquette? And if there isn’t, well, there should be. Nevermind that you’re dealing with strangers and people you’ll never encounter again (thus, giving you the excuse not to be nice pffft)— it’s not right to steal someone else’s cab.

So I have here a super short list called The One Thing You Should Never To Do To Your Fellow Stranded-In-The-Metro-During-Rush-Hour-Waiting-For-A-Cab Men When You’re Stranded In The Metro During Rush Hour Waiting For A Cab:

1) DO NOT HOUND SOMEONE WHO’S WAITING FOR A CAB, IN HOPES OF BEATING THEM TO THE FIRST CAB THAT SLOWS IN FRONT OF THEM. There is nothing more annoying than this, I swear. On the same note: when waiting for a cab, keep a distance of at least ten meters between you and the person in front of you. Do not give them the impression that you are itching to pounce on the next cab that merrily rolls your way— a cab that’s rightfully theirs.

I remember this time when I was running late for work and it was 5pm on a weekday on Katipunan Avenue. I was standing outside Red Ribbon, desperate for a cab when two Korean girls sneakily made their way behind me. I looked at them, shrugged them off for being weird and Korean-y, and started walking towards 7-11 (better chance of getting a cab from someone getting off at the condo building). They were tailing me, planning to steal my cab! The non-English speaking Korean nerve!!!

So I killed them.

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