Archive for technicolor lover
November 19, 2006 at 5:05 am | Filed under breaking up the girl, technicolor lover, the single girl phenomenon
I don’t want to wax emoetic over the fact that D just dumped me last night, three hours before my shift for work. Boyfriend is in Galera right now, and after two days of being incommunicado, he finally texts me. What we had was awesome, but hey, let’s stop blah blah blah. I told him I always kept my end of the bargain (kinda), and that I respect his decision, but I’m not about to be friends with him.
And that I don’t know which is sadder: the possibility of me never having good sex again, or that I’ve finally lost him :cute:. But enough about that. Let’s quote one of my favorite break-up songs: LiLo’s Over (by the way, I’ve reconstructed my Oh Well— WHAT WASTED UNCONDTIONAL LOVE!— playlist to include some RnB songs for major heartbreak. Oh why did I have to fall for a man who listens to RnB).
I watch the walls around me crumble, but it’s not like I won’t build them up again.
I realized over coffee, cigarettes, and the Oh Well playlist that I’m capable of getting even without getting mad first. In a demented and masochistic way, of course. Running to his ex and spilling the beans (oh, did I mention? They broke up last week) isn’t something I’d do— that’s, like, totally B-class you-slept-with-my-boyfriend-you-slut! drama; and I’m all for the bitch-slut-whore-you-slept-with-my-friend!!! kind of thing. B+ drama, what’s up.
In other news, I fell down the stairs last Thursday and sort of sprained my lower back and my left arm. The new boytoy and I were supposed to go out for drinks Friday night, but I was too plastered from lunch (I kidnapped one of my co-workers and made it my mission to turn her into a Southern version of me. Translation: Project “Let’s Make Vida An Alcoholic”. We started drinking at 12 noon) and had to take a nap to prep myself for another night of fun social casualties. I woke up Friday night with MAJOR CHILLS, like mehn, my teeth hurt so much from chattering non-stop for two hours.
The spoiled brat in me kicked in— boytoy offered to take me to the hospital the next day (after WE have OUR car carwashed), which turned into “Do you want me to bring you to the hospital right now?”, to which I replied with an “Are you fucking kidding me, can’t you see it HURTS to even move my toes right now???”
He got me out of my miniskirt and put me in sweats, socks, and his jacket. Basically, his “I’m gonna rape you tonight” statement turned into “I’m getting you medicine, and you better eat something”.
Oh, and I’m at work. I refuse to take more paracetamol and mefenamic acid, because I am aiming for the clinic to send me home by lunch. So I can sit in my Vortex, smoke a pack of Marlboro Reds, and listen to the Oh Well playlist.
I won’t be the one to chase you, but at the same time you’re the heart that I call home.
:cry:
November 12, 2006 at 10:25 am | Filed under ditz drivel, technicolor lover
This is how we kiss and make up:
Para quits, I’ll tell you something I know you hate. Some girl is dancing up on me.
-D aka The Man Who Still Makes Me Go ‘Rawr!’ Because He Is One Hot Helga-fucker
I bet I can dance better than that bitch.
-Helga “Hahaha, You Think That’ll Piss Me Off?” Weber
Don’t worry, di ko pansin.
-D “Because I Get The Best Sexy Time From Helga Weber” M
You better be a good boy. Keep your dick where it belongs. IN YOUR PANTS. Or in my mouth.
-Helga “But Seriously, That Pissed Me Off” Weber
So anyway. This entry is brought to you by rhum, Valium, four hours of sleep, and post-teenage angst.
Or maybe not.
Nothing much happened over the weekend. Watched some DVDs, went on a 10-and-a-half-hour drinking spree (830am, good morning alcohol), walked around Katipunan drunk and in my pajamas looking for lubricant (you know, FOR SEX), ordered a bucket meal at KFC (drunk and still in my pajamas), and fell down some stairs. Because I had this brilliant idea of dropping two Vis with my drink.
All in all, it was a pretty good weekend. EXCEPT THE LOVER WASN’T IN MY BED. Asshole.
Just for the record, today’s weather is Olongapo whore-ish, with bouts of boredom. I’m so bored, I’m surfing Friendster. My lawd.
November 5, 2006 at 10:25 am | Filed under breaking up the girl, technicolor lover, the single girl phenomenon
I’ve been trying my hardest to not write about my relationship woes. But after a bottle of rhum, two hours of sleep, a ten-minute shower at 1am, a mad dash to get from Katipunan Avenue to Makati (while listening to Aimee Mann, Suzanne Vega, and Norah Jones), slipping on what’s supposed to be non-slip steps, scarring my shin, and still ending up NINEFUCKINGMINUTES late for work— please. I need this.
Read the rest of this entry »
November 2, 2006 at 9:18 am | Filed under ditz drivel, technicolor lover, the helga manual
Random Confessions part I (I think):
o1. In the context of relationships, particularly with the opposite sex (because last I checked, yes, I still am woefully straight), I am attracted to power. This, I realized just recently— I always always seek out the alpha-male. Perhaps it’s my way of coping for not being as influential or as powerful or as cool as I would like to be. The men I choose to attach to myself (or attach myself to) have to have some form or level of greatness. I don’t live vicariously through movies or books; I live vicariously through the men I go to bed with.
(I’d list some examples, except I’ve been getting hits from my office IP. I’m being watched, folks, and it’s skurrring me shitless. Kinda.)
o2. I am in love. And he knows. And he doesn’t care.
(Okay, that was a bit too emo for me.)
o3. If I like you, I will swallow. Go figure.
o4. I like talking dirty… but not face-to-face. Unless I’m kidding around. Because I can never pull off that I’m-dead-serious-sexy expression. So yes, my “I want to swirl my tongue around your cock” lines are limited to only text messages and e-mails.
o5. I am obviously a very vulgar girl. Not to mention wretched, but I will not go into that. Like I said: I’m being watched.
o6. In reality, I am not as sex-crazed as this entry is making me out to be. As vulgar and wretched as I am, I am also a very decent hard-working 21-year old lady… who has taken a liking to screaming “Slut! Prostitute! Whore!” at her female housemates; and sending text messages such as “I wanna sex you up” to her South African White Boy (SAWTB) housemate (from a female housemate’s mobile phone, of course). I am also educated, and trying very hard to catch up on my reading because I miss being A Well-Read Person. I am currently flipping through the pages of Eve Ensler’s The Vagina Monologues. How very three years ago.
K, that’s enough. Sexpornspambots, my moderation queue is ready for you.
October 30, 2006 at 6:04 am | Filed under a waste of human capital, joyful girl, technicolor lover
Now that I have your attention.
Halloween tomorrow, we’re required to dress up for work. Now. I love dressing up. I love Halloween, it’s probably my favorite “holiday” ever. But why must there be a theme? And why, of all possible themes, must it be Chucky or Bride of Chucky? THAT REQUIRES SOME ACTUAL PREPARATION, and I’ve thrown away my leather jacket when I moved out of the dorm because admit it— leather jackets ARE hideous.
So as I was saying. I want to do slutty this Halloween. Black tights and something tiny. If people ask what I am, I’m either Chucky’s biatch or Chucky’s kabit. Take that, Tiffany.
BUT I WANNA BE TINKERBELL-GONE-WRONG, only because that doesn’t require any effort. I already have the black tights, the black boots, and the black (with blue polka dots) Tink dress. And the attitude problem. Peter Pan can go sit on a snowflake. Or a Coke bottle.
I’m extra-ditzy today. This is the effect of staying alcohol-free and Valium-free this past week.
Highlights of my week:
- I finally got my pride and joy: the Veronica Mars to my Back-up :cute:. I don’t know which of the FS900 series is mine, though, but she’s gorrrrrgeous. Now all I need is a customized laptop bag.
- Moving out of the condo and into the new apartment. It’s crazy how much kitchen stuff we have. After five years, I live in a house again!
- The complete season of My Name Is Earl on DVD. Jason fucking Lee is worth staying up late for.
- Last night with D. He said his “thing hurts hehe”. It’s official: I am capable of breaking dicks. :blush:
I’m off to smoke in the rain. Oh, the poetry.
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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. 
