GALERAWR: AN ABRIDGED VERSION.

October 20, 2006 at 9:07 am | Filed under joyful girl, technicolor lover

A lost camera. Passing out. Waking up NOT in our hotel room, wearing someone else’s board shorts. Passing out. Subzero and Mindoro Sling shots with Valium. Passing out on the beach. Haggling over the price of anklets. Getting matching heart anklets for the best friend and I <3. Making out with a girl in front of her boyfriend. D asking what the hell are you on, what the hell are you taking? Kissing a Hot Tattooed Boy to prove to him wrong: I am not a snob, I am actually quite the hospitable one, now come-over-here-and-give-me-a-kiss-or-two. Kicking boys out of the room. Getting stoned. Getting acquainted with the locals. Buying a bottle of cheap gin and cigarettes with the last of our money. Getting drunk on cheap gin chased with water under the scorching sun. Picking up a hot American boy from Arizona. Trying to skimboard drunk. Dragging hot American boy back to our room. Missing our boat back to Batangas. Charming the boat owner into refunding our tickets. Getting the locals to buy us cigarettes. Getting the locals to buy us water. Playing “guess what song I’m listening to?” with the best friend to pass the time.

It started on a Sunday and ended on a Tuesday. Galerawr with the best friend: best fuckin’ vacation ever.

My boss to me: It’s official. You’re memorable :)

My direct supervisor to me: Alamat ka, Helga, alamat! (You’re a legend, Helga, a legend!)

My direct supervisor, on Aa and I: You two are like two preys walking on the beach, waiting for the predators to start pouncing on you.

RAWR! :spin:

Edit// This is how I feel right now, as of 7.45pm:

Indecent. Crackwhore-ish. Tired. Fiona Apple-ish. Mary-Kate Olsen-ish.

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A VOICE UNKIND.

October 3, 2006 at 8:03 am | Filed under breaking up the girl, technicolor lover, the single girl phenomenon

I guess one way to start feeling better is realizing that he wasn’t that good a catch after all.

But frankly, it’s more like “convincing”.

I miss D [:cry:] and it’s a struggle deflecting the urge to e-mail him. Resist resist resist: that’s my new mantra; must stick to it. We were texting each other yesterday afternoon— and like all conversations we’ve had these past two weeks, that didn’t turn out well, too.

Did you say “no, this can’t happen to me”?  Did you rush to the phone and call? Was there a voice unkind in the back of your mind, saying maybe you didn’t know him at all?

I told him: I’m just realizing how stupid I was, but whatever. It’s sad because we used to be so happy before.

His reply: Before what?

Why can’t we overcome this wall? Well, maybe it’s just because I didn’t know you at all.

SO ANYWAY. Maybe it’s the fact that I’ve had The Last Goodbye and Your Woman on repeat (though sometimes, I squeeze in Meryn Cadell’s The Sweater and Bree Sharp’s David Duchovny) for two nights now that’s prompted Alon to play matchmaker.

We were sitting out on the hallway last night, just chatting and smoking, when he threw me a “funny question” (his words): out of the five Frenchies, who did I like? Basically, he’s trying to set me up with one of his French friends, to take my mind off of D. :blush:

I went ahead and said that I find Tibo cute. Except he’s heading back to France on the 18th and might be back April next year. Not a big deal, I just think he’s a cutie? Alon was building up his other friend, Clem, who’s staying longer but who I find merely ‘okay’. Alon had this goofy smile on and his phone was out: “I’m SERIOUSLY going to text Tibo!” Eep. I said I’d think about it.

I swore I’d go on a rhum-coke and antacid diet this week, but chocolate chip cookies and Sausage McMuffin meals are just too goddamn enticing.

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THE LONGEST WEEKEND aka WE, THE ESCAPISTS

October 2, 2006 at 5:22 am | Filed under breaking up the girl, technicolor lover

From: Weber, Helga Gabrielle
To: Plazo, Bryan Del

Subject: on why I was absent last Friday (and other stories)

Yan,

I was unable to make it to work last Friday due to the following reasons:

• No thanks to the typhoon and lousy engineering (which rendered my windows and ceiling useless in keeping the wind and rain out), my condo unit was flooded with…well, rain water. I had to move out of my room into an extra room (provided to me by the building management), which unfortunately still held the belongings of the previous occupant (a Blue fanboy with a vast collection of gossip magazines, a Sam Milby album, a cheerleading outfit, and lots and lots of smelly laundry). Suffice to say, the room was highly uninhabitable.

• No thanks to the typhoon (again!!!), our building (and the whole of Katipunan Avenue) lost electricity and water. I live on the fifth floor, and I once almost died going down the stairs when I slipped on a puddle of water. There were lights on when this incident happened. There weren’t any lights last Thursday night/Friday early morning. My phone had died some hours before my shift (roughly around nine pm) so I was unable to check if anyone near my area had electricity and running water, so I could bum some bath water and toothbrush water.

In summary, I was unable to report to work last Friday for two reasons: 1) my condo unit was flooded; 2) no water + no electricity = smelly employee.

Thanks,
Helga Gabrielle Weber

I need not mention in the e-mail that more than half of the fifth-floor tenants (which includes me) convened in Alon’s room to drink the typhoon away. So yes, I was substantially drunk when Melenyo fucking WRECKED my condo unit. The typhoon abracadabra-ed a river in our hallway. A lake, my floor. And a poltergeist, my ceiling. It was crazy.

And I shit you not about Blue fanboy (whose room we have christened L’hotel Orphanage). He has a clearbook filled with Blue paraphernalia and a shitload of magazines that kept us entertained for two light-less, fan-less, TV-less, and water-less days.

FRIDAY NIGHT, WE CHECKED INTO A HOTEL BECAUSE WE COULDN’T TAKE IT ANYMORE. WE WERE SUICIDIAL (well, I was) AND RABID BECAUSE THE PHONELINES WEREN’T WORKING. WE WERE READY TO CHECK OURSELVES INTO A HOSPITAL IF WE COULDN’T FIND A VACANT HOTEL ROOM, THAT’S HOW DESPERATE WE WERE.

Saturday, we clean our rooms. We drinky-winky while doing so, if only to escape reality a bit. I was visibly buzzed by the time I was bringing my things back into my dry room. I conk out at 11am…

…And wake up at 9am the next day (Sunday). An hour into a game of Free Cell, Allah comes home from work and we open a bottle of rhum.

You know what, I’m gonna shut up now and just say it:

D AND I ARE OVER.

And so I bring you Sad/Angry Girl Anthem #1: 

Just tell me what you’ve got to say to me,
I’ve been waiting for so long to hear the truth,
It comes as no surprise at all you see,
So cut the crap and tell me that we’re through.

Now I know your heart, I know your mind,
You don’t even know you’re being unkind,
So much for all your highbrow Marxist ways,
Just use me up and then you walk away,
Boy you can’t play me that way.

Well I guess what you say is true,
I could never be the right kind of girl for you,
I could never be your woman.

When I saw my best friend yesterday,
She said she never liked you from the start,
Well me, I wish that I could claim the same,
But you always knew you held my heart.
And you’re such a charming handsome man,
Now I think I finally understand,
Is it in your genes?, I don’t know,
But I’ll soon find out, that’s for sure,
Why did you play me this way?

Well I guess what you say is true,
I could never be the right kind of girl for you,
I could never be your woman.

Well I guess what they say is true,
I could never spend my life with a man like you,
I could never be your woman.

-YOUR WOMAN, WHITE TOWN

I’m tired. Why must The Last Goodbye be so irresistible for moments like these, when we know it’ll only make us cry.

PS: I came in for work, turns out I DON’T have work today.

PPS: My tita bought me a laptop, I’m getting it when her friend comes here to the Philippines.

PPPS: I’m gonna be okay, okay, okay. :)

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D IS FOR DRAMA

September 27, 2006 at 12:32 pm | Filed under bitchin' a ride, breaking up the girl, technicolor lover

Things between D and I are going all right…in terms of throwing accusations at each other, that is. I know it gets old, my perpetually ranting and bitching about him, but we also all know that I don’t know any better. And here’s another nugget of realization: as much as I have every reason to leave this relationship, I can’t. No matter how many times I say that I’m giving up (especially when under the influence of alcohol), I won’t. Because I’m emo like that. Fuck it, I’m back to being emo. Masochistic optimism.

AND FUCK IT, HE’S HERE ON THE FLOOR RIGHT NOW AND HE’S NOT SAYING HI. I CAN SMELL HIM, I CAN FUCKING SMELL HIM.

EDIT//

Okay, I’ve calmed down now. He dropped by my station and pecked me on the cheek to say “hi”. He also called me “Weber” :hmph: And now my hyperacidity is acting up (it does that when I’m mad/pissed off, excited, or nervous). He’s still here. I think. We’re logging out, time to go home, I don’t know what to do.

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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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