Archive for mr wonderful
July 22, 2008 at 7:47 pm | Filed under joyful girl, mr wonderful, technicolor lover, the helga manual
Age 5: Kindergarten 2 Helga’s defining moment of the whole school year is her going up to the chalkboard and correctly solving the math problem in front of her peers (who were most likely not paying any attention at all). She may be incapable— at the age of 23— to count past a hundred, but she will always know that 2+3=5.
Age 7: Helga comes to terms with the fact that she will never be a Little Miss Philippines, a gymnast, a ballerina, or Candy Candy.
Age 8: Helga comes to terms with the fact that she will never be Wendy, surrogate mother to the Lost Boys, either. Makes a conscious effort to stop forcing herself to fly “in her sleep”.
Age 10: Physical Ed. She does 86 sit-ups and pwns everyone in her class— girls and boys.
Helga: We had to do sit-ups for PE. I did 86 sit-ups. I pwnd everyone
Lover: hahhaha. I used to be able to do 100 upside down. 4 sets of 25.
Helga: O YA? HOW OLD WERE YOU?!?!?!?!?!
Lover: yeah. Hmm…18? I had mad abs hehe
Helga: I WAS 10! WHEN I DID 86 SIT UPS!
Lover: Hehehe. Fine!
Age 11: Helga falls in love for the first time with a boy named Taylor Hanson.
Age 12: She kicks a boy in the nuts because he was talking smack about Hanson TO HER FACE!! Discovers the internet; she finds it awesome.
Age 17: Moves to the big city. Loses five pounds during her first week of college, prompting relatives to ask if she’s doing drugs. Spends a lot of nights hanging out at her neighborhood Starbucks, walking home at two in the morning with her male best friend from high school. While walking, they’d create lines of poetry that they’d yell at the moon.
Age 17.5: Male best friend from high school admits to her he’s gay. There is finally hope for her to be a fag hag fruit fly.
Age 18: Gay male best friend from high school drops out of college and moves back to the boonies. Helga starts dating and sleeping with the wrong and worst kind of men, but not as the result of.
Age 19: Spends the whole first semester of her junior year a drunken stoned mess. Is still dating and sleeping with the wrong and worst kind of men, the result and cause of.
Age 20: At a hundred and five pounds and looking wonderfully wanarexic skinny (yet needing a steady supply of blemish acne cream for the pimple farm on her forehead), she flips the nightmare that is her Little-Thesis-That-Could-But-Wouldn’t the middle finger. Makes the biggest mistake of her life. Is still dating and sleeping with the wrong and worst kind of men.
Age 21: Is still dating and sleeping with the wrong and worstest kind of men.
Age 22: Helga sets a record and goes through four men in less than four months. Man #5 comes along and she falls in love.
Age 23: Remedies the mistake she committed at age 20 by getting a normal job. Life, it is wonderful.
=)
July 11, 2008 at 9:39 pm | Filed under Y!M conversations, mr wonderful
A conversation I had with the lover a couple of weeks ago:
Lover: you know what’s gross about her
Helga: What lolz
Lover: it’s that her tummy sticks out farther than her boobs. I can’t live with that.
Helga: LMAOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO. What about when I get preggo. Well, I’ll have big boobies. But an even bigger tummy!
Lover: well, there’s a valid reason for that LOL. You’d be fuckin abnormal if your tummy didn’t get big
Helga: Hehehhe. I’d be starving the bibi
Lover: yeaz! Not good for my kid
Helga: I will eat only carrots and celery. So we’d have a baby wabbit who looks just like you
Lover: oh dear lord, please don’t make lihi on chikon PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE
Helga: WHY NOT CHICKON! WHY NOTTTTTTTTTTT
Lover: can you imagine me having to find on open kfc at 3am?
Helga: There are 24 hour KFCs here excuse meh
Lover: hehehe
Helga: I WILL MAKE LIHI ON CHICKON AND SUMTHING VERY HARD TO FIND. RED RIBBON BLACK FOREST CAKE
Lover: omg lulz. sige ka you’ll be a hungry womanz
Helga: So will your bibi. Sige ka your face.
I srsly need more laptop memory.
July 7, 2008 at 6:16 pm | Filed under ditz drivel, mr wonderful
Next to cheese, useless stuff on sale, and the smell of victory in the morning, there is nothing I love more than cats (especially the LOL breed). Obviously, I think cats make awesome— if not the best— pets and I honestly want to feed a puppy to a polar bear everytime a non-cat person disagrees with me. I’m kidding, of course. I love all animals and we currently have two adorable puppies whose pictures you can see here.
I asked the lover the other day how many pet cats we’re allowed to have (the plan is to have a dog, a bunny, and many many cats). He said we’re/I’m allowed to have two, three at the most, and if we have any more than that, they’ll have to stay outside.
HOUSTON, WE HAS PROBLEM. HOOJ HOOJ PROBLEM. You see, I want and will have the following cats, no matter what:
Cat Blanchett aka Oriental Shorthair aka Pink Panther kitteh. According to its description on breedlist.com, OS’s are talkative, playful, acrobatic, and energetic. They also come in red.
Fat kitteh aka Chartreux. Look at that cutie! The lover approves of this cat (he begged me to pick cute ones, saying I know what he likes) and you can apparently adopt them (not buy!) in the US. I want a blue-coated orange-eyed smiley kitty! My Chartreux shall be named Jean-Paul Sartre.
British Shorthair. It’s a cat, not a bear. My British Shorthair will be named Bamba Cat.
Scottish Fold aka Owl Kitteh! They look greedy and the type who’d steal our children’s lunches, but they’re apparently very chill and affectionate cats. As they are extra cute and funny-looking, I will have two earless cats. Maybe name them Lunch and Dinner.
Baby cats aka the Bambino! Like chihuahuas, they’re so ugly (and wrinkly!) that they’re cute. According to the horrified, yet optimistic lover, the upside to having a Bambino named Gary is that they’re hairless (no having to deal with cat hair) and that our kids won’t be scared of shit, having something like that for a family pet. They supposedly keep their kitten-like behavior their whole life.
Peachy cat aka Peachy Pie aka P-Pie (Traditional Siamese). My cat will still be around in the future, of course.
That’s at least six cats right there. Now how do I convince the lover.
June 29, 2008 at 3:02 am | Filed under a waste of human capital, events, joyful girl, mr wonderful
It’s been a week since my last update and for good reason: I re-joined the labor force last last Friday. I’m currently employed by dotPH, being a total ditz in their creatives department. I’m actually half-creatives, half-sales & marketing…it sounds awesome, I guess. I’m just happy and absolutely relieved that after wasting two years on being a stupid call center agent, four months of web design school, and a month of bumming around, I finally have a real job.
To make things more fun, I work with my friends, Mordo and Ade! Now that is awesome.
Now here are the boring details: my hours are noon to 9 in the evening. I work in Emerald Avenue in The OC (The Ortigas Center, anyone?). Coffee, beer, cheap food, KFC chicken, and cigarettes are all within walking distance. I only know of two sites that are blocked at work: youtube and meebo. I have access to Yahoo Messenger. I have a non-Avaya phone, I do not hate it and I am not chained to it. I smoke three to four cigarettes during my breaks. I spent the whole week last week working on a template in Photoshop. I realize that making cutouts is therapeutic— not that I need therapy for anything. I’ll probably spend this coming week modifying and coding, though I was told I’ll be doing cold calls this Monday. You’re welcome to stalk me.
Several nights since I started, I’d go for a couple of beers after getting off work. I called it my two-beer habit. It felt good and it felt normal. I am spent by the time I get home and I am conditioning myself to get used to functioning on six hours of sleep and copious amounts of weak office joe and nicotine. Just like college, really.
(There’s nothing I miss more than heading home with you, knowing it’s only a matter of minutes before we find ourselves in our bed, tangled up in each other and naked.)
It was a tiring week and there was no better way to end it than going to Coke’s Buhay Coke ng Bloggers party. Everyone got a free carton/case of Coke Zero (I didn’t claim mine because lugging it home would be a byatch) and the beer was free and free-flowing— just like how a party for bloggers should be. A picture (care of Fritz!) of me looking like a tranny hooker junkie mess who got too drunk to work her corner that night, I love it:
A job, the greatest boyfriend, fantastic friends— life is good. And normal.
Other blog posts:
An Apple a Day, Happiness = Coca-Cola
Jehzlau Concepts
Ka Edong
Azrael’s Merryland
Macuha.com
Love in the Time of Coca-Cola
Mistervader
Godiane
Galwin Fabian
Websaytko
Fritzified
Jester in Exile (in his new home)
BrownPinay.com
AWHoldings (Plurk’s Arbet Loggins)
Baratillo.net
Think of Me
Momblognetwork
Kape ni Lattex
Buhay Coke Ng Bloggers At SM Hypermart
Something Sweet & More
Pinoy Life at Large, Arpee Lazaro
Pinoylife
Melo Villareal
Xeemomma
Rockerfem
Brian Ong
Micamyx
Jason King Ong (the Banana Dancer)
Cigarette Girl
Photos:
An Apple a Day Photos
Superbong
Hrudu
Micamyx
Fritz the Paparazzi
Juned
Juned’s Flickr
My Flickr
Shirley of Hollywood has awesome lingerie.
May 31, 2008 at 3:09 am | Filed under 23 for 23, mr wonderful, the helga manual
“Bartender, pour me a Helga. Dirty, shaken, and slightly Webered.”
And so started my ascent into a Helgaholic addiction with no hope for a cure. Who’d have thunk that deceptive mix of moonshine and honey could knock me off my feet in 300 words or less? It kinda sneaks up on you while you’re trying to figure out what the aftertaste is: Subtly sweet, slightly bitter, and burns the back of your throat a bit before the heady essence kicks in and takes you for the ride of your life.
Somehow that set the tone for our unlikely relationship, one that started with the statement, “I’m a fan.”* Me attempting to figure out what makes the Helga tick (perhaps in the hopes that knowing my enemy will help me conquer it), and her, effortlessly eluding definition, every step of the way. Before long I’d fallen into the Helga Trap.
How does one even classify such a creature?
The Good…
Helga writes with an unapologetic style that, for lack of a better superlative, can only be called brilliant. Her ability to find lulz in the most mundane things coupled with her wondrous command of the English language (injected with her own patented brand of self deprecating humor) have given a great many of us the kind of hard to suppress, physically manifesting mirth that can embarrass you had you been perusing her blog at Starbucks. Alone. (No, that wasn’t me, really.) It was first that innate sense of literary comedic timing that sucked me in, and because Helga is somehow able to port that perfectly into real life outside of the inurnets, has kept me captivated till now. Every hour spent with her is like a minute reading her entries, at times immersing you in self analysis as her sarcasm bites and takes hold, or just making you laugh out loud at the funnies she can seemingly conjure out of thin air.
The Bad…
What you see on here is the real deal, only I have it better than almost anybody else - I can kiss it. I’ve been trapped since the day she unabashedly held me over the railings of her lifestyle and with an evil grin promptly let me go, to see if I would sink or swim. And swim I did; an awkward dog paddle at first while I acclimated my stomach (and alcohol tolerance) to the questionable fare of her late night carousing with the spirits, to the more confident (yet still shaky) breaststroke that surprised even her closest friends who considered me a lost cause. Just to confess to you now Duckie, I cheated; it was mostly ice…and mostly Coke. And I only did that to be sober enough to help you find religion on your bed.
The Baddest…
She’s not without her contradictions. When she frolics with the demon T’Anduay and his erstwhile sidekick, K’ok, (jointly known as the sneaky inebriator duo, Rumcola), no doubt Helga rawks out with the best of them. I’ve also seen her unknowingly becoming the center of attention in a bar full of women trying to be just that; a beautifully giddy, funny, and incredibly indifferent foil to their vain attempts. But what truly sets her apart by a wide margin (besides lips surely drawn from one of Michelangelo’s wet dreams), are the random bursts of brilliance that rival her crappy cam’s pathetic excuse for a flash. The Helga I’ve come to know brings out the best in others, deftly extracting wit out of alcohol hazes and ingeniously infusing a routine night out with memories worth remembering. What’s even crazier is, she doesn’t even try.
And as it goes, she’s brought out the best in me. I’ve come to find that our humor runs along the same twisted path, ranging from the pathetically corny to the sweetest of inside jokes, which I feel truly privileged to be sharing with the likes of one such as Helga. (insert corny music here) I am the greatest when I’m with her; she’s the red and blue glasses that makes my 3-D movie look right. Life just gets more real when viewed through her eyes. I’m still a fan, and always will be. I guess I have it good. =)
It’s a big day for you baby, 23 for 23. Sounds perfect to me.
Happy birthday, Duckie. I love you.
So this is my birthday tribute to Helga - Thegreatest
*I started oddly enough, as a fan. I guess that puts me square in the ranks of the average internet romeo, hoping to write the perfect pickup line in attempts to elicit a response on Myspace or Fezbook, and hoping even harder not to get laughed at in the process.
And now that she’s 23, Helga needs to be serious about her savings accounts. Yes, she has two. Both are in a state of destitution.
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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. 
