IN TONDO, THEY CALL ME ‘LIPS’.

September 14, 2007 at 9:46 pm | Filed under camwhorage, the helga manual

I think my lips are pretty awesome. They’re luscious and full (but in a non-anal spinchter kind of way), they’re shaped perfectly (I think), they’re naturally flushed (they used to be, like, red but almost eight years— z0mg, it’s been eight years?!— of smoking kinda dulled the rosiness) and they look soft. And they’re yummy. My lips are so hot, I’d date them if I could.

PUCKER UP!

Lookit those two hotties! Bad photo, I know. That’s how I look like when I don’t Sally-Hansen my femstache for a day and zap my zits with Panoxyl every eight hours. But aren’t my lips gorgeous? Angelina ain’t got shit on me.

I love my lips and I maximize their loveliness by making sure that they’re super prominent. This entails monthly collagen injections (when I’m short on cash and time or when my brother changed the hiding place for his Calayan gift certs, I just ask one of my housemates to punch me. Hard), whipping out a brown eye pencil and drawing an arrow (pointing towards them kissers) on my face whenever I’m in a room full of beautiful women, and making Zoolander lips everytime I see a camera pointed at my direction. If none of the abovementioned succeed in catching people’s attention, I shift to plan B which is usually me standing on any elevated surface with my shirt rolled up above my breasts while chanting “I need to reroute the encryption modules” over and over again.

MY LIPS. ON A GOOD DAY. SUCH UNEQUALED DICK-SUCKING LIPS.

Alina: PS: How can you have such a perfect big lips?
Tracy: Because God knew she’d give a lot of blowjobs

Yeah, that was pretty pointless.

More VH LOLs (side-by-sides made and sent by the insistent mancandy— who seems to have a thing for borderline jailbait cases):

MY LIPS ARE SO RED, I MUST’VE GIVEN SOMEONE HEAD. I RHYMED!!!

Truly? I sort of see it now.

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OR. THIS COULD BE PMS.

September 12, 2007 at 5:04 am | Filed under bitchin' a ride, camwhorage

BitchFace, grrawr!

I’m guessing it’s almost that time of the month that’s bringing about all these homicidal thoughts. This is not good, as I’m prone to think and act recklessly when annoyed and tend to be standoffish towards people whom I would otherwise adore, had my hormones not been acting all loony. I’m also irrationally paranoid and extra emotional during this time, which leads to resentment and bitterness over not being coddled and babied.

And then there are days where I’d rather be left alone to sulk.

Hey, at least this is just me PMS-ing. It’s a comforting thought that I’m not normally this way and that I’ll be back to my regular self in…in…in a couple of weeks. I’m bracing myself for the impending CARBS! CARBS! GIMME CARBS! phase that I go through, too. Oh boy.

Work LOL:

Caller: Umm, hi. I just made an itinerary and I accidentally cancelled it.
Helga: …Okay. And what do you want me to do?
Caller: Get it back?
Helga: …It’s been cancelled. I can’t uncancel it?

Seriously, we’re not God here.

I screwed up yesterday while testing password protected posts: I edited my templates-functions-post.php file to come up with a customized message which messed up several files which in turn barred me from logging in to my Wordpress dashboard. Suffice to say, that caused me an unfitful sleep. You laugh, but I refuse to get pwnt by some code.

Anyway, I’ve learned my lesson: password-protecting entries is gaynage.

FIVE AM! Time to go home! To a messy house and a sink full of dirty dishes, I bet. Argh.

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A BUSTED WRIST AND OTHER STORIES.

September 4, 2007 at 7:23 pm | Filed under admin, camwhorage

I’m supposed to be on my way to work but I have to go to the hospital first, have my right wrist immobilized or something, and get a medical certificate before I can show my face at the office. I am NEVER attempting to do yoga ever again. Whilst drunk, that is.

On changing my domain name. Well, I’ve got the choices down to three: helgatheweber.com, weberhasflavor.com (thanks, Baddie!), and helgaholic.com (as suggested by the mancandy). I super like all three; good thing I’m broke as a single mom with a drug addiction at the moment, so I have about 15 days to decide on one.

CT: helgaholic is available btw
CT: as is helgasms
helgatheweber: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
helgatheweber: Stop giving me more options!!!

Moving on, I want a Lomo. Like, I will pay 4252345 men to sleep with me for one. I mean, check this out:

Taken with my point-and-shoot Cybershot:

Taken with Jeanette, Drew’s Lomo:

Are you nodding with me here?

Again. Cybershot shot:

Versus Lomo shot:

Lomos: making drinking beer at 7 in the morning look good.

I WANT AN ACTION SAMPLER, TOO!!!

All Lomo shots are taken by the Katipunan Weather Boy.

Also, I’m never drinking again.

Also, I’ve tasted heaven. The much vaunted Cupcakes by Sonja over at Serendra? HEAVEN HEAVEN HEAVEN. Sonja should come up with, like, a rum cupcake. I mean, if the alcohol’s in my food, it’s not considered drinking, ya?

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MONDAYS WERE MADE TO BE HATED.

August 28, 2007 at 4:22 am | Filed under camwhorage, ditz drivel, the internets

Ever since I noticed a few months ago that people have been Googling my name, I’ve made it a habit to do the same every now and then, if only to see if anything new would come up in the search results. So far, only boring stuff show up (this blog, an old LJ account, and my Twitter are on the first page), which is good. Not that I’m paranoid or anything, I’m just glad that all search results are directed here. Out of curiosity, I googled my brother’s name, too:

My brother’s name yields more awesome results than my name, so I find validation in being nominated for the Hot Hot Hot as Jalapeno Pinoy Blogger Award in the Pinoy Evil Blog Awards. Not that I have any clue as to what the whole thing’s for or how the nomination came about (besides my posting way too many photos of me in my underwear here), but it’s pretty cool.

(So I revisited The Helga Weber Numbers and I suddenly feel the need to resurrect it, if only as a dumping place for stuff that I can’t afford to post publicly.)

MONDAY RANDOM!

A quotation (it is beyond words how much comfort I find in this passage):

It is a world of impulse. It is a world of sincerity. It is a world in which every word spoken speaks just to that moment, every glance given has only one meaning, each kiss is a kiss of immediacy.

-Einstein’s Dreams, Alan Lightman

A photo:

A quasi-epiphany:

It hit me over dinner last Sunday night that perhaps the reason why life seems to be a more pleasant ride nowadays is that I no longer question the order of things. I just mock them, in my own seemingly innocuous way.

And a question:

One of the things I’ve learned from Mr Supervisor is that we tend to attract what we think about the most. It’s nothing new, really, as I’ve always known just how powerful channeling one’s positive or negative energy is (having taken an interest in Wicca back in highschool and looking for a rational explanation for spells. Well, as rational as you can get with Wicca); it’s just something I didn’t take seriously or didn’t acknowledge enough.

The question is: what’s one constant thing that’s been occupying my mind lately?

Bah.

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LOVERS, RUM, AND BAD HABITS. AND VODKA. LOTS OF IT.

August 21, 2007 at 1:51 am | Filed under camwhorage, mr wonderful

So I was drunk the whole weekend. I haven’t had that much alcohol in a while and to prove just how plastered I was: I’ve got a ginormous bruise on my ass (and several smaller bruises on other various body parts) from apparently falling off a sidewalk into the street before crashing into a car. And then I broke my heel. AGAIN. My poor lovely red fuck-me pumps, I was going to rule the world with you.

Quick rundown of the weekend that was: nutty weather, “Green dress! Green dress! Green dress!”, Eric Kupper @ Embassy (!!!), “Pok-pok! Pok-pok! Pok-pok!”, pure Absolut (Jesus Christ), Grey Goose, eating two McDonald’s meals, sneaking in Aa, waking up (still drunk) in an empty bed with Aa going through my cabinet, and itching to drink again. Except I fell asleep.

Route 196, Session Road, PH 9.0 (my Saturday night accessory), Sol de Espana, an overpriced bottle of Tanduay (450 bucks? Are you fucking kidding me?), Lomos, chicken, nachos, lots and lots of pizza, waking up at the Meatshop, wondering what the hell Allah was doing at the Meatshop and why wasn’t she at work (that took a few moments to register), 7-11 morning alcohol run, beer, making Drew proud by not falling asleep and entertaining the guests, drunk texting the mancandy, and waking up just as the mancandy walked in.

“You’re so ta-LEN-ted”, Meatshop, more rum, friends, friends of friends, Sienna College girls, a bangus tattoo, Una Sikat, corporate phone messages, Helga Bear, and streetside camwhoring at 6am.

And now I feel like crap. Alcohol overload. I’d like a carton of Nativa, some fruit, and about 14 hours of sleep, please.

Comments (22)