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.
September 20, 2006 at 12:09 pm | Filed under a waste of human capital, breaking up the girl
I’m resigning. Soon.
Six months today. Hello, I’m Helga and I’m a regular employee, fully-entitled to all company benefits. And I can now make use of the six incentive leaves I’ve earned these past six months.
But I’m resigning. Even though I am highly promotable (I haven’t been late in weeks), as implied by my direct supervisor. Even though I’m kinda good at what I do. Even though I have made some good friends in this program.
I admit that a big contributor to this decision is the fact that I went crying-psycho in front of co-workers and bosses last Sunday. I have exerted a great deal of effort at keeping a low profile here at work: sure, everyone knows me, but only impersonally. You know: Helga— crazy and mean but a good girl, nonetheless? NOT drunken hysterical Helga who airs out her issues to everyfuckingone?
And, well, Branders is hiring and they pay a whole lot better than my current employer.
I have to get out.
September 19, 2006 at 7:55 am | Filed under breaking up the girl, technicolor lover
What kind of an utter idiot french kisses her lover’s room mate (not once, not twice, not thrice, but FOUR times!) at THEIR housewarming party for everyone to see?
Why, the Helga kind, of course.
And we almost had a perfect weekend. As usual, things were going great— had gone great— and I had to fuck something up. This is what our Saturday night consisted of:
- pesto pasta and Korean chicken barbecue that I made.
- pizza he ordered.
- me helping him hang his laundry.
- me explaining season one of Veronica Mars to him.
- the two of us watching the first 3 episodes of Veronica Mars (season two).
- the two of us watching half of Battle Royale before conking out
- great sex.
This is what our Sunday morning consisted of:
- waking up next to D (I am happiest when this is the case).
- ordering breakfast from McDonald’s.
- watching Just Like Heaven.
- me giving him a massage.
- the two of us watching a boxing match on local tv.
- the two of us watching SOP Gigsters.
- great sex.
This is what our Sunday late afternoon consisted of:
- me being a bitch to him during the drive down south to his Alabang house for their housewarming party.
This is what our Sunday evening consisted of:
- me flirting and then kissing his room mate H. Four times, according to our co-workers.
- D finding out.
- D sending me a message: “fuck you, tapos na tayo”. In english: fuck you, it’s over between us.
- me reading the message. Me seeing him enter the house. Me leaving the table. Me pushing him towards the dirty kitchen at the back of the house.
- me telling people who walked in on us to (can you) please leave (!!!)
- me crying.
- me throwing my phone against a wall. Twice.
- D picking up the pieces and putting my phone back together.
- D telling me to stop crying and stop making a scene.
- me making a fool out of myself and crying to everyone and in front of everyone. CO-WORKERS. CO-WORKERS.
- me crying to my direct superviosr. He asked “Anak, what’s wrong?” and I couldn’t exactly say that D had just dumped me. So I answered with a “my boyfriend broke up with meeeee.”
- me hurling my guts out in their toilet. Amazingly, I had my toothbrush and toothpaste with me.
- my direct supervisor and one of the shift managers conspiring against MY shift manager so I wouldn’t have to go to work at 4am. “Helga, just don’t tell JJ you have work, all right?”
- me crying some more to people and to D.
- me falling asleep on someone’s bed.
- me waking up outside my building at 2am.
- D taking me up to my unit.
And the night ends with me sitting on my bed, drinking water; while D stood by my door. No apologies, no hugs, no good-bye kiss. He just told me he needed to leave and get his car. And I just nodded.
I am now trying to make begging him take me back. He said he honestly doesn’t know, that he’ll have to think about it. All I can do is wait.
:(:(:(:(:(
And yesterday’s notable conversations:
Helga: So. I kissed D’s room mate.
Allah: THAT IS SO VERONICA MARS! I’m sorry, I just had to say that. Who’s Duncan, who’s Logan!
Anna: Weber, why are you sad?
Helga: I kissed D’s room mate.
Anna: Wow, biatch na biatch ang dating!
I messed up. I’m sorry.
Just remember me when. :(
September 15, 2006 at 12:47 pm | Filed under bitchin' a ride, the helga manual
Do I like you? No? Then here’s some piece of advice: do NOT have a term of endearment for me.
I am itching to hit kill someone in the face right now (hey, whatever happened to that tagline of mine? “Don’t mess with pretty girls because they will kill you in the face“? I was THAT angsty and arrogant before?). Like seriously, if I run into IT, I will attack with a blunt pair of scissors for maximum pain. And yes, this is what too much of Prison Break’s T-Bird can do.
I don’t even ask for much. Here are three important DO NOTs when it comes to addressing me.
- Do NOT (ever) call me HELGS (whether I like you, or not). It sounds cheap and is ONE fucking syllable away from HEL-GA. Go the extra ‘uh’, yes?
- Do NOT call me “LURVE” or “LURVES“— ESPECIALLY IF I DON’T LIKE YOU because it just fucking gets on my nerves. What the fuck is up with that? Unless you’re English, of course, because that gives you an excuse.
- Do NOT call me “Hell” or “Hel” in an attempt to give my name a nickname. Because really, how shorter can my name get?
Basically, my point is, unless I have given you some sort of a go signal to call me something else, I am Helga, Helgaaa, or Helgrrr to you. Gaby/Gabby if you’re feeling cute. Okay?
THE WEEKEND HAS LANDED! Prison Break season 1 plus Veronica Mars seasons 1 and 2 marathon in the afternoon, and then D in the evening!
September 14, 2006 at 9:37 am | Filed under bitchin' a ride, urban primadonna
On my way home yesterday, I told an old lady to hurry the fuck up, or move to the goddamn side.
But I was prepared and faking a phone call. She turned around, I gave her a big toothy smile, pointed at my phone, and said (in my most annoying voice) sorry. “Saaaahraaaaaaay!!!”
Unfortunately, only the words ‘fuck’ and ‘goddamn’ seemed to register in her brain. :hmph:
I ain’t made for this country, yo.
(Karma got me in the ass when I got home, though. Stupid tricycle driver didn’t have enough change, so I was charged an extra 4 bucks for my fare. Four bucks is nothing, but it’s still four bucks.)
PS: I <3 Prison Break.
PPS: Why am I so pissed at the world. Oh. Right. D.
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. 
