A TWELVE-HOUR DRINKING SPREE.

September 25, 2006 at 8:57 am | Filed under ditz drivel, technicolor lover, urban primadonna

The weekend that was can be summed up in five words: alcohol. And more alcohol. Woohoo!

Three geeks and a girl. Friday night saw me east of the city at Home Alone Roel’s place with Gutch and Gelo. Notable how Gelo greeted me when Roel and I met up with them at 7-11 to buy drinks: “You look drunk.” It wasn’t supposed to be an all-night thing, so can the host tell me why I got home at 5am? :P

Starting early. I greeted the Saturday morning with a nasty headache, wondering to myself when the hell did I start having hangovers. This was cured by liters upon liters of water and several episodes of Veronica Mars. At a little past three, Sunrise’s resident fairy, Drew, giggled outside Anna and Allah’s room with an invitation to start the night early. He had psyched himself up so much that waiting for the sun to set for the alcohol to start flowing into our systems was unbearable.

The social weather and such. First stop was Drew’s— the crappiest watering hole (that’s just my humble opinion, of course) that offers the most disgusting drinks (save for the Jam Jar— that was actually almost good, but I don’t see it in their bar list anymore?) and plays host to the most exasperating crowd  this side of the city.

Yes, yes, I admit that back in the day, I once gave the owner a lap dance and rendered one of his friends shirtless. Reformed Katipunan biotch, what can I say. 

Hard chairs and wuss drinks. Drew’s was rented out for the night, so we had to leave after a gut-wrenching two liters of Jerbaxx (did I mention they also have the grossest names for their drinks?). It’s not like we wanted to stick around anyway :P

So off we went to Tribu where the five of us (3 girls and 2 gay people— I have resolved to surround myself with people of the harmless genders until things return to normal between D and I) managed to rack up over a thousand bucks in food and wuss drinks (rhum cokes, mango rhum shakes, and long islands?). I believe I had six long island iced teas which brought down the buzz that the Jerbaxx gave me. :hmph: We were later joined by a member of the forbidden sex, but yeah, Yero’s harmless enough.

A broken heel and forbidden beer. At 10, we headed back to Sunrise so Allah could get dressed for work and the rest of us could change into something Duran Duran-ish for Duran Duran night at Saguijo. So much for avoiding beer at the two bars we previously came from— I left with three bottles worth in my belly and a broken heel.

Soda thief! We’re not ones to call it a night at 3am, not without being idiotically drunk. We end up in the ever-so-familiar Meatshop for more rhum and more food. When we had downed the bottle of rhum, the guy from the table beside us stood up, grabbed our bottle of Coke Light, went “Amin nalang ‘to” and left. How… very working class. And yes, my heel was still very much broken.

Home, sweet, home. It is beyond me where the bottle of gin came from, but there it was. The sun was up, I was watching Veronica Mars, and taking a shot of gin and I don’t even remember what my chaser was. Breakfast!

D is still being a bitch and Surfer Boy and I were texting each other last Saturday night. Yeah, I finally worked up the courage to say “hi” and he replied!!! Again, he’s invited us to Siargao. Cum to Siargao. Cum. Just cum. Haha! :cute:

I think I’ll de-toxify this week.

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PETIKS!!!

August 29, 2006 at 8:23 am | Filed under ditz drivel, the internets

Aa has a Vox account. Sweetsummersweat. I squealed when I saw her at work today. We have opposite shifts: she’s 7pm to 4am, I’m 4am to 1pm. :( I should arrange a week-long sleepover at her place. IF ONLY CUBAO DIDN’T SUCK SO MUCH.

Crisel tagged me. Jesus, I haven’t been tagged in ages.

Rules:

1. Emphasize all lines that apply to you.
2. Tag five more people after you finish, complete with links to their sites.
3. Let the person you’ve tagged KNOW that they’ve been tagged, for Pete’s sake.

Before I go bold-happy, I tag the most unlikely people I know who’ll answer this: John Steven, Tracy, and Cris. :P Yep, only 3. I’m lazy, for Pete’s sake.

I wish I was a different ethnicity.
I have an eating disorder (wanarexia idiosia!).

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“EXCUSE ME FOR FEELING!”

July 26, 2006 at 9:02 am | Filed under a waste of human capital, ditz drivel, technicolor lover

Last night, I came to work with 12 pesos and 30 centavos in my wallet. Not counting, of course, the 150 pesos I paid for my cab— 100 of which I had to borrow from Allah because my bank’s ATM wasn’t dispensing cash.

But hohoho, commissions from these past two weeks were credited last night. I’m money-ed again :woohoo:. Must resist the following:

• the daily Starbucks habit
• shopping

The rent is due in one week, after all. :hmph:

D is the hottest biatch on earth. I’m wearing my white undies that I had him sign with his initials and the only thing that’s keeping me from pulling down my jeans in front of him is the fact that over 200 people would bear witness to such a scene. Rawr.

Anyway. In other news, I smell a scammer.

Also. I’ve had enough of my bosses flirting with me. Seriously. I’m not being arrogant or cheeky here. It’s flattering, sure, but it’s uncomfortable and D always takes it against me.

PS: Allah bought the Stars Are Blind CD single. Five versions of the song, yo. We’ve been playing it over and over again (alternating it with Fiona Apple’s The First Taste— stripper music!) since Saturday. I caught my next-door neighbor singing along two days ago :D.

PPS: Sunday night was B-Movie night. The Hillz was flipping horrible, but we’re big Paris Hilton geeks. SO.

PPPS: Even though the gods are crazy! Even though the stars are blind! If you show me real love, baby, I’ll show you miiii-iiiine!
Wouldn’t it have been more awesome if it were titled Gods Are Crazy? :)

EDIT// I AM VERONICA MARS. FUCKING VERONICA MARS, YA HEAR!

Scammer scammer. Basically, I have her CC/system log-in ID because the customer she processed an order for called back complaining no one could pull up her information. I took note of the agent’s ID because I found three things wrong with the order:

• invalid order number given to the customer
• Louisiana state abbreviation was ‘LO’
• credit score: customer was informed she had 5/0/0. I retrieved credit: 2/150/150

I was peeing when it hit me: in the beginning, all new agents have the same password. My CC log-in is cc882213. Scammer’s CC log-in is cc893648— meaning scammer is from a later wave/batch. So. I log in using scammer’s CC ID and the default password. VOILA, MOTHERFUCKER, “Welcome *insert scammer’s name here*!”.

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TALKING DIRTY AT WORK…

July 21, 2006 at 9:14 am | Filed under a waste of human capital, ditz drivel, technicolor lover

…is sexy call center rock. :spin:

I have a twitch in my right eye. ZOMG, am I finally working too hard?

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SUCH AND SUCH OPPOSITES.

July 3, 2006 at 3:30 am | Filed under a waste of human capital, ditz drivel, technicolor lover

Two sounds I dread to hear the most: my phone’s alarm going off (Britney Spears’ I Love Rock N Roll— the polyphonic version), and an Avaya beep (signalling that I have to put on my headset, un-mute my phone, deliver my spiel, and deal with some idiot Caucasian. I swear to God, I don’t get it— why call telesales, why even THINK of purchasing something over the phone when you damn well know you DON’T have a credit card?).

Ahem. Anger-be-gone.

Two sounds I love to hear the most: D knocking on my door at 10pm (Yay! He’s finally here!), and some non-idiot Caucasian with a bill to account voice telling me “I’d like to add a new line to my account/I’d like to set up an account.”

Two things I FUCKING HATE waking up to: my phone’s alarm, and hearing this fucktard from my building butcher Broadway songs with his nasal half-baritone half-tenor and blood-curdling vocal gymnastics.

Two things I love waking up to: D stretching and flexing (LOL) his biceps beside me and then watching him look around my studio before slinging an arm over my head to pull me in closer, and.. Oh what the hell. D. He twitches in his sleep! :cute:

Just two for today. I smuggled coffee out of the pantry to my workstation and now I’m dying for a cigarette.

Pacquiao won against Larios (OMG, did you guys see the tassles on Pacquiao’s shoes??? HILARIOUS. Like a village fiesta, or a Wright Park/Quiapo horse!), eTelecare lost against Infonxx. At a little past six pm, D sent me a message: “Hmp we lost”. Aww, poor baby. :(

I DIDN’T WATCH HIS GAME, BY THE WAY. Not because I had rather see Pacquiao beat the shit out of Chololo(ooo), but because I knew his girlfriend would be there, and because D did not volunteer the idea that I go fangirl over him.

Apparently, he did not “invite” me because I had sort of made it clear that watching a basketball game on a Sunday afternoon was far worse than, say, going to church. Which is true, to some extent.

Oh. And his girlfriend’s out of town. So.

I start channeling Mary-Kate Olsen TODAY. I eat more than a 6′3″ man, and I’m like, 5′2.5″. D and I had brunch at Shakey’s before his game and I had three pieces of chicken, two slices of pizza, and lots of mojos. All D had was pizza (the remaining 6 slices) and mojos. HELLO, CASTOR OIL.

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