Archive for camwhorage
June 5, 2007 at 3:15 am | Filed under camwhorage
L: Yna and I at my condo. R: Yna, Coco, and I at Pau’s condo.
You kinda scared some of us helga. And by “some of us,” I mean me. And the poor dude who was manning the front desk when you arrived.
Good thing you missed my condo by around 4 buildings.
-Pau, on a drunken Helga dropping by to say hi
My birthday party was awesomecakes and I’d like to take the time (while I’m on hold with United Airlines) to thank everyone who came, especially Allah and Drew who helped with the expenses. I’m most likely to upload and post the photos (I look hideous, drunk, and hideously drunk in 90% of them) some time this week, because I am back to internet-less condo living.
I’ll blog about the party next time because a Birthday Party Blog without photos is senseless and just downright wrong.
And. I lost my phone at my own birthday party. Rather, my best friend’s phone (Aa, if you’re reading this, I’ll text you. And pay you back, of course). I feel like the universe is playing one big cosmic joke on me. Is this your idea of a good time, you asshole? Or is mercury in retrograde? Cos I haven’t been having the best of luck with mobile phones and laptops lately. My chest feels tight now. Hik-bi.
(I can’t believe I fucking lost a mobile phone. I’m usually responsible when it comes to such things. I’ve only lost two phones my whole life— the first time, I was drunk and passed out in our dorm garden; the second time, some asshat fished it out from my bag while I was in Galleria, one day before my debut party. ARGH.)
And I swear to gawd, this did not happen:
From: Ramil_Ventus
Sent: Monday, June 04, 2007 1:37 PM
To: Helga Gabrielle Weber
Subject: RE: KITTY PHONE HOME
You remember when you downed Red horse straight from the bottle like it was water, dont you? And when you spilled everyone’s beer on the poker table and on Bim’s seat? Lolzifiable!
You don’t have to be embarassed though, believe me. Everyone had a grand time. We had our own share of drunken booboos. And we appreciate you momentarily DITCHING YOUR OWN PARTY BECAUSE YOU WANTED TO SEE US! :)
Jesus Christ.
May 28, 2007 at 2:57 pm | Filed under camwhorage, the single girl phenomenon
What do you do when a guy dumps you? You date his friend, of course.
But seriously, I think it’s about time I be nicer to myself. I’m going to stay away from boyfriends. I was my worst last Friday and it just shows what a…I think the word is “bitch”…I am: it was my friend’s birthday party and I made out with her boyfriend. I am not someone you’d like to be left alone with your guy.
I disgust myself sometimes.
Anyway, just got back from this Baby Boy’s christening in Quezon:
Isn’t my godson absolutely adorable? Funny story: I got to Quezon still drunk from Friday night. That pink retro dress in my last entry, the one I was supposed to wear? Didn’t happen. I just threw on a clean shirt, rushed to High Temperature (my friends’ bar), put on some make up, and then went to the church. So Eight’s dad handed me a candle, right? I was like, what a nice glittery blue candle dum dee dum dee dum. YEAH, I WAS NINANG. And I didn’t even have a gift.
Some photos. Because it’s a Monday:
My low-rise jeans and my sexy (pre-beer) tummy. See my mole and the lace of my undies? Yay!
Maling love! I was drunk (again) last night and Allah and I had the munchies when we got home. I now have a nice little cut on my right ring finger which I probably got when I was massacring the maling.
Photos of photos from Jen and Niel’s wedding last year:
I didn’t look as bad as I thought I did then, after all. I remember being the first to be made up and I hated how rough the gay make-up artist was with his sponge and brushes and how I was too sleepy to complain (sleepy, not hungover) and ALL THE AQUANET and trying to sleep without messing up my face.
AND THIS! THIS IS MY BEST MARY-KATE FACE!!!
Heh.
So yeah, I’m taking a break from heartache and stuff. The best friend’s coming over mid-June to look for a job (behind her mom’s back lololol) and nothing’s final yet, but I might have a room mate. I know I know, I’m not good with room mates but she’s my best friend and I figure that with having her around, the chances of me bringing home men (who will only end up, I don’t know, breaking my heart or something) will lessen. My only concern is that because of the lack of space, we’ll be sharing my bed and she has a boyfriend and I know they’ve already had sexy time on my bed several times. It’s okay, really, but just not on a regular basis.
Also, we’re looking into enrolling ourselves in a bartending course (so we can go to Florida, roflwaffle). I’m too lazy to google right now, maybe later at work (sigh. Work) but if any of you out there know where we can take lessons, please leave me a comment or email me (mynameishelga[at]gmail.com).
Bobby still has a fever, I’m worried now. His fur’s all blah and rough, meaning he hasn’t been grooming himself. My dad said cats really do get sick and stuff, so he doesn’t see the need to take him to the vet. Poor baby cat.
Monday again and I’ve been up since 7am. I’m going to die tonight.
May 18, 2007 at 9:29 am | Filed under a waste of human capital, camwhorage, technicolor lover
I originally was just planning on Twittering this, but it’s not short enough.
So liek ohmygah, Mr Supervisor held my hand. And it’s been more than four hours since, so I’ve calmed down a bit and the giddy schoolgirl feeling’s faded a little. But. Like. Oh. My. Gah.
As usual, I left work late— an hour after my shift ended. I stuffed all my things into my bag, cleared my desk, banged my head on my keyboard tray thrice (for a dash of drama), mumbled my good-byes to my co-workers, and shuffled past them. Mr Supervisor’s station (where he sits looking all sexy and squeezable) is right at the end of our quadrant, thus totally unavoidable. I smiled at him just as he looked up from his screen, cocked my head (because it’s cute to do so, I suppose) to the side and said my good-bye. He adjusted his headset, pushed his swivel chair back a bit, gently grabbed my left hand with his right hand and went:
…
…
…
“How are you going home?”
Mr Supervisor. Me. Holding hands. And yes, I admit to not being normal, cos I just stood there _holding his hand_ while I replied with a “I’m taking the bus”. Ya know. Just stood there instead of, I don’t know, rushing off to the washroom to lock myself in one of the cubicles so I could proceed to touch all my feminine spots with my left hand? Or something?
HE’S NOT EVEN CUTE!!! He’s just so big and meaty and so…attackable. Someone I can curl up to.
“You take care okay?” He squeezed my hand. I squeezed his hand back. And then slowly. Walked. Away. Like nothing special happened. While discreetly hugging myself.
No intertwining fingers, though. That would’ve been awkward. And creepy. Kinda.
Alsos. I am Kristina’s biggest fan at the moment. I don’t know how she does it, but she found a proxy server that works. For now, at least. So I’m still on the internets, huzzah!
May 14, 2007 at 5:17 pm | Filed under breaking up the girl, camwhorage
I started writing yet another entry about my turning 22, but I realized I’m too drained to churn out something coherent. Which is odd, since I spent the majority of my weekend in bed watching TV, and I woke up to the tune of three mugs of black coffee this morning. I don’t know where this sluggishness is coming from but I must shrug it off before 7 tonight, because it’s preventing me from functioning properly.
Speaking of TV. OMG, Ruffa Gutierrez-Yilmaz Bektas divorce, so good. I love Ruffa like anything, she’s so gay and fabulous and gorgeous and Venice is the cutest thing ever. While watching The Buzz, my flatmate commented on how Ruffa’s fabulousness has gone down a notch now that she no longer has a filthy rich husband (who is so very showbiz, too). And then she starts crying right after she says something along the lines of “One thing I will never understand about their culture is how it’s okay to hurt their women!!!”, and I’m like “Oh my godz! She’s more fab than ever now!” And then we switch to Channel 7 and I am fascinated and amused by Annabelle Rama’s crying.
Anyway. Photos and other chopsueynesses! To cheer me up!
My lunch. And I wonder why I’m so fat. Look at that.
Our mommy dog, Panda, gave birth to six puppies yesterday (Mother’s Day!). We have little cows. So fun.
With four of my favorite girls: Klassy, Sanya, Shauna, and Sam aka the LezzieGangBang. Taken the first Sunday of May in Ziggurat. It’s been ages since the five of us last hung out. I think that’s what happens when people grow up.
Too funny not to post. Sam captionized this photo as “Stumbleupon…?” There’s Shauna and I, giving Klassy our undivided attention as Klassy raves about Stumbleupon. I know I look bored, but I was actually quite enthralled. Shauna just looks puzzled.
Today’s notable YM snippet. Conversations with the ex-boss:
He left me at my hotel at 3:00 AM murmuring: “You’re marvelous.”
-Anais Nin, Diary Volume Two
That pretty much sums up the vibe this past weekend. Now, I go to work.
April 23, 2007 at 3:21 pm | Filed under a waste of human capital, camwhorage
Out of boredom, I dyed my hair. The first and last time I ever attempted to do so was a few weeks shy of my 18th birthday; I guess I did a pretty decent job, considering I was only 17 then.
Quick comparison.
I thought it appropriate to take a “Hi my name is Mhe-Annze, I’m from Balara, txtm8z?! EB?!?!” photo. Bah, I know I look fug there, but it’s okai! Cos I’ve got inner beautay! And all that jazz!
ARGH. Look at my eyebrows, look at my hair. So I did what seemed to be the sanest thing to do, up until 5 seconds ago (cos now I have nooo idea how I’m going to rinse it out— dunk my face into a basin of water?): I used the leftover dye on my eyebrows.
Next time, I find time to sit my ass in a salon and have a pro do it. Red highlights, yes. Or totally go Fiona Apple-brown. It’s instances like these that make me feel I’m a waste of kikay estrogen. I can do the dishes, do the laundry, scrub the floor, maybe throw in some ironing (and cooking, definitely cooking. And shoe-shining), and pee perfectly into a bottle. But I cannot, for the life of me, cut my own nails, pluck my own eyebrows, and dye my own hair.
Also, I think this is nervousness I’m feeling: tonight, I get to see what it really is like, being a corporate travel specialist. Ooh boy, after more than two months, I’m back to taking in calls. Also, I’m craving for Kublai’s eat-all-you-can buffet.
Can’t everyday be Sunday?
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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. 
