COMING CLEEEEAN.

July 19, 2007 at 3:30 am | Filed under ditz drivel, pop culture and such

I admit: I’m a big Laguna Beach fan, so I squealed in delight when I chanced upon DVDs of seasons 1 and 2 last Monday. Being an LB fan totally adds to my ditz factor. And being an LB fan at the glorious age of 22 says volumes about just how sad my life is. I’m going to take up macrame or knitting any day now. And maybe cricket. But no, cricket’s quite cool. Maybe a fake English accent and black cigarette holders ala Audrey Hepburn.

Depsite the fact that I can seriously feel my IQ dropping about 29 points (to the level of, say, a housewife from Small Town, Italy. But smarter) whenever I watch the show, the truth is: I secretly want to be part of the LB power cliques. LC’s, to be specific. I could be her half-Asian accessory, taking the place of token black dude (or dudette) which the show obviously lacks. I mean, don’t tell me there are no black people in that part of the OC. And I checked: out of 23, 727 people, .36% of them are African-American. .08% are Asian. And did you guys know that more than 50% of the people in the world have never made or received a telephone call? Lucky ducks. And did you know that while Vacancy is lame, Factory Girl is a face-rocking movie?

What a segue! Now I’m no genius when it comes to movie reviews (I’m actually quite the idiot) and I no longer gush over the usage of the rule of thirds or cinematography or angles and perspective shots (the way I did, 17 years ago— proof that I lie about my age and that I’m actually an overly-botoxed Caucasian man with a brown wig in his mid-30s) so I’m not even going to attempt to do one.

That’s all. If you want the DVD, that’s awesome.

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YAY, POSSIBLE CREDIT CARD, FINALLY.

July 10, 2007 at 2:02 am | Filed under ditz drivel

This is silly. Last Friday, I made a quick run to the 7-11 behind our building for a pack of cigarettes. I was half-running, half-skipping, hoping to get back up to my floor in less than ten minutes so I could proceed to smoke the bitch out of my lungs. Everything was going smoothly— the elevators were cooperative and a guard even opened the glass door for me— until I got out of the building and rounded the corner. Standing outside Piandre, chatting with Manong Taho, was a Citibank guy. His outstretched right hand was clutching a Citibank credit card application form which he was waving at me. Enticingly.

I snatched the form out of his hand, gave him my best friend’s number, and told him I’ll fill out the form and give it back to him on Monday.

In the six minutes it took me to get to and from 7-11, I’d already mentally created a list of things to buy from the intarnets with my soon-to-be credit card. Mom, this is your fault. Had you given me your card in the first place, I’d have a shorter list.

Anyway, I’m checking out Gap’s Product Red, getting extremely annoyed at the fact that they don’t ship internationally, and thinking of contacting an aunt or a few uncles who might willingly ship stuff to me. For free. Without them asking how I am. Because questions about my well-being will eventually lead to questions about my Thesis. And I’m trying to avoid that. But knowing my mom’s siblings, they’d probably attempt to strike a lame deal with me. Like, “I’ll pay for this and this and ship them to you for free but you have to graduate before I do so!!!”

Because seriously, I need this guy:

In ten business days, I just might be able to buy him. Okay, so not really. Why is it *so* difficult to get a guy.

PS: I’ve been working out (PE!!!) for two weeks now, sweating it out every morning with Billy Blanks or Carmen Electra. I swore to lay off the drugs but it’s been a frustrating attempt to lose weight the healthy way, so I stole my brother’s bottle of Hydroxycut.

My goal is to get back the abs I had when I was in highschool by November this year. That, and anorexia.

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TWITTERING!

July 8, 2007 at 1:47 pm | Filed under ditz drivel, the internets

I’ve got a blasted headache and I don’t know what time it is, but I’m drinking. Beer! Of all things! With the TMB people, at Peter’s house in Alabang (may urbanidad!), on Mikey’s Mac. I’m listening to Hanson (click, sidebar! Scroll down!) and I have a shopping date with mother. She’s mad cos I’m running late, and yes I’m aware that I sound like I’m twelve.

I haven’t recovered from last night. WHAT A GAY.

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THIS PASSION’S A PLAGIARISM.

June 14, 2007 at 3:50 am | Filed under ditz drivel

The world seems to be spinning out of control and while I’d like to spin with it (or against it), I’m looking to put things into perspective.

Quezon City in the afternoon rain is an unfriendly state to be in.

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I, THE ESCAPIST. AGAIN.

April 7, 2007 at 5:50 pm | Filed under camwhorage, ditz drivel

Wouldn’t it be awesome to disappear for a while and just live out of a backpack? All you need is a good pair of shoes, some clothes, a bottle or two of rum, and a desire for adventure. Come what may, baby, I’ve got all I need on my back. And if I run out of cigarettes, I can always bum from strangers.

The best friend and I got matching knee wounds. Note to self: do not circle around someone (like a cat!) when drunk, especially when I’m wearing nothing but shorts. And a shirt, of course.

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