Archive for ditz drivel
January 4, 2008 at 4:28 pm | Filed under ditz drivel
I have decided that the concept of life as an unemployed 22-year old waiting for her life to start would make perfect chick lit material, and that I should put my talent (lolwhat?) for stringing words together to form sentences and paragraphs to good use by writing that sort of novel. But I’m lazy and chick lit heroines are required to have the one thing that I lack and that my friends, is a resume stating that she graduated top of her class from some prestigious and insanely expensive university.
So I’m royally bored. Last night, lover asked me what my plans were for today. I replied with “Nothing…and I LOVE it!”. And I do. I woke up at a little past 11 today and I couldn’t decide what, of my many options, to do first: play Sims 2? Finish watching Shopgirl? Finish watching Lucky Number Slevin (yes, I have a habit of watching movies in halves)? Watch The Ten for the second time? Shower? Clean our guest bathroom? Go online? Work on this blog’s new layout? Guess which of those I didn’t do (clue: it includes scrubbing, detergent, bleach, and a toilet brush).
It’s scaring me shitless, though, knowing that I have voluntarily rendered my bank account stagnant and I won’t be drawing a salary until further notice. The other day, I stood outside our bathroom as my housemate was taking a shower (conversations when the other party is naked and covered in soap suds makes for, well, good conversation) and I told her the amount I had in my bank account and how I only have enough to last me until the next month’s rent (I actually had enough to pay for three months plus a little more but our “contract” ends in February and then I move back home until I figure things out. Also, rent isn’t the only thing I pay for; I DO send an economically-disadvantaged kid in Bangladesh to school and donate to charity. Okay, so I’m lying and now I feel bad) and she told me that I had a lot. I said NO!!! DON’T YOU KNOW? I DONATE TO CHARITY! and she said “Well, you have your folks.”
True that.
Right now, my head is in my hands, as I think of ways to swindle money from my mom. Kidding, mom’s actually agreed to finance whatever “academic” whims I have that need financing (but I doubt she’d agree to send me back to an actual university or college for another eight semesters) and it’s annoying that now that I know I have a safety net in the form of a 46-year old woman, I’m starting to not want to do anything with my life. I’m probably going to end up the typical Filipino: 36-years old with 3 kids (different fathers, no husband) still living with her folks.
I need a good nudge and perhaps the will to start going through the reading materials that my personal career coach (who also doubles as the lover) has so sexily provided me. My eBooks, let me show you it:
Nevermind that he totally ignored the fact that I don’t have a dSLR or a camera that’s spiffier than my Cybershot.
So. What now. Life, are you there? It’s me, Helga.
Edit// I checked my email and found a letter from the past, from me, to me:
One year from now, when you read this, I hope you’ll be happy and loved. Same as the last letter you sent yourself. You read it just a few days ago; you had wished yourself (more than a year ago) to be happy and loved. You were, when that letter came. And now you’re not.
OMG, the emo-ness. But I am happy. And loved. But more importantly, loving. :cute:
December 19, 2007 at 5:28 am | Filed under camwhorage, ditz drivel, pop culture and such
Me and my propensity to obsess over drama-filled “reality” tv shows, particularly those of the California-set variety (I guess those Upper East Siders are too classy to air out their dirt to the whole world via MTV). Tuesday morning, I saw myself shoving half a chocolate mousse cake (not half a slice of cake but HALF A FUCKING CAKE) down my throat while bitching about Spencer Pratt’s teeth. I’ve never been so far away from Hollywood.
Seriously. First, Laguna Beach; now, The Hills.
Can I just say that my heart swells every time I see The Hills’ opening sequence and hear the opening theme (Natasha Bedingfield’s Unwritten, which is my #1 Feel Good song). Especially that bit when it’s ending and the title scene glitters and sparkles on to the screen? This one?
Oh, the giddies.
o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o
Last Sunday, I dragged lover to Linden Suites for my college block’s yearly Christmas party. Technically, because I shifted out of Development Studies my senior year, they’re not my blockmates and they all really secretly hate me and probably a bunch of them made bets amongst each other that I’d end up pregnant or with an STD or stricken with cirrhosis or dead two point three months after leaving the hallways of Miriam College, but Clem begged me to show my fat face. And who am I to turn down an invitation to get hammered on a Sunday (or ANY day, for that matter)?
Unfortunately, I was sick for the most part of last week (upper respiratory tract infection, acute tonsilitis, fever, chills, a cough that wouldn’t quit, a dot that came five days late) and there were no boys to seduce (save for lover and well, he needs no seducing) so I pretty much behaved myself the whole night.
I AM HOLDING A MUG OF COFFEE WHILE LOOKING RETARDED!!!
(STFU ABOUT MY AZN BOOBS. LOVER CALLING ME EXPOSURE QUEEN IS ENOUGH)
Three things I learned that night:
1. Most of my batchmates are in Law school and they’re all losing weight. They suck.
2. One of us got knocked up.
3. My favorite professor gave one of the students from the batch before us syphillis.
o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o
I hate my job and my antibiotics. Still not in a blogging mood.
December 18, 2007 at 4:33 am | Filed under ditz drivel
My whole body’s been taken hostage by evil antibiotics (the kind that makes you not sleep and makes you do crazy things like go to Gateway at noon on a Sunday eight days before Christmas to look for tampons and painkillers while loaded up on cough syrup and well, antibiotics).
BRB, like, tomorrow. Sims 2, Weeds, The Hills, and my college block’s Christmas party last Sunday. Someone obviously didn’t do a good job of taking care of herself whilst she was sickywicky.
December 7, 2007 at 5:09 am | Filed under bitchin' a ride, camwhorage, ditz drivel
The universe must be wonky this time of the year— it’s almost the weekend and I have yet to lust for alcohol. Most of you would probably see this as a good thing, but I’m telling you now: IT. IS. NOT.
You see, children, there was a time in my life when I was actually sober for roughly six months. By “sober”, I mean one beer a week (usually on a Saturday night after dinner and a movie). I also remember that for about two months during my senior year in college when my bloodstream and whatever biological pathways that alcohol courses through in my bodeh were completely— and I mean COMPLETELY— devoid of alcohol.
It all sounds preposterous, I know, and you might think that I’m bullshitting you or perhaps writing about a girl named Melba who lives with her grandmother Zenaida (because her parents are OFWs in Dubai) in some rundown apartment unit in Novaliches. Melba whose hobbies include cross-stitching the face of Jesus and macrame. Melba whose biggest secret is that she has a crush on her next-door neighbor, Jojo, and that she collects his discarded candy wrappers and keeps them in a box under her bed. Melba who drinks Cali Shandy and whose ideal night out would be trolling her village’s streets at 10 in the evening dressed in a Lee Pipes or a Jag Thug shirt and Dr Lee denim shorts, both two sizes too small. With her cellphone in hand.
No, kids, I was writing about myself. I don’t always fail at taking a shot at sobriety.
My weekend is less than an hour away (I’m on leeeeave! I’m on leeeeeeave!) and it’s a bit puzzling that getting hammered isn’t part of the plan. I don’t even have a plan. I’ve texted half the people in my phonebook asking if anyone wanted to watch The Golden Compass with me and not one of them had the clemency to reply to poor li’l DESPERATE-FOR-A-FUCKING-FRIDAY-NIGHT-OUT me.
Is it because they’re scared I’ll end up dragging them to the nearest watering hole as soon as the movie ends? Is it because I disgusted them when, a few days ago, I texted them asking if they could hook me up with Valium or Stilnox or a hosto from Tondo or all three? Or is it because I only have two people in my phone book and instead of texting lover (who is impotent and would rather fap off to motobikes than spend time with me), I sent the message to my mom (who, as we speak, is probably disowning me and packing all my Antipolo belongings in a cardboard box to store in our carport. Or in the vacant lot beside our house. For the cats and dogs to mangle and defecate on)? Or is it because I’m black?
Yeah. It’s because I’m black, isn’t it?
Here’s a picture from last Saturday night, taken at Cubao X during Lomomanila’s Christmas party. With me is— no, not Melba— Mina, whom I went to college with. Now let’s play a game of Spot The Difference.
Is it our hair? No.
Our eyes (she’s winking, I’m not)? No.
Our shirts? No.
She has more things dangling from her neck? No.
WHAT THEN, FOR FUCK’S SAKE???
She has a degree in International Studies. I don’t.
November 21, 2007 at 12:35 am | Filed under ditz drivel, pop culture and such
Last May, the douchebags over at the CW cancelled this:
VERONICA MARS: ONLY THE BESTEST SHOW EVER MADE.
(And yay, no Piz in the picture)
And then they gave us (us? Who?) this:
GOSSIP GIRL: TOTAL PHAIL.
Read the rest of the entry »
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. 
