EXPIRATION DATE

July 10, 2006 at 3:15 pm | Filed under breaking up the girl, technicolor lover

See, right now, I want nothing more than to be with him. A couple of weeks ago, during one of our fights, I told him that: the only guy I want right now is being an asshole. I mean, really, if someone threw you a line like that (just disregard the last four words)— wouldn’t that appease you? Make you feel all giddy inside?

It apparently doesn’t work for him. From my POV, “guy I want” were the operative words in that sentence. From his POV, it was “right now”. Meaning I could change my mind and run off with someone else in the next twenty seconds.

I digress. Like I said, I want nothing more than to be with him. Waking up beisde him; getting up to sit on his tummy and telling him I’m hungry and we should go get some food; running my hands through his hair to put him to sleep; my head on his bicep; my teeth on his shoulder; him growling and flashing his braces because I find it cute; the way his says “puh-puh-please“; his picking up my habit of keeping empty cans, cups and Yakult bottles in my fridge. Blah blah blah, and all that corny crap.

Oh god, do I have to keep on blabbing.

I’ve never been one to do the SOCIALLY-ACCEPTED right thing. Sure, I follow rules and am proudly a law-abiding citizen. But when it comes to Filipino values (or values, in general) I’ve always been a bit of a deviant. Fuck, why can’t I just get to the point.

I’m thinking of ending whatever D and I have. His girlfriend’s coming back to the city this week, so HE says we’ll have to plan our meet-ups now, including as to when we’ll be watching Pirates II. This naturally puts me in the sour-est and most confused mood you can imagine. :blah:

I can’t handle being the other woman. I’m a very jealous person, and I ask for undivided attention and lovin’. I cannot stand the fact that I have to share him, his time, his emotions, and his dick with a girl whom I naturally feel I am prettier, smarter and better in bed than. Because I’m arrogant like that and because he’s cheating on her. But really, if I were all that, then why is he still with her, right?

Don’t wanna be like every other girl in the world / Like every other one who wants you / ‘Cause when I see you, something inside me burns / And then I realize I wanna come first

-First, LiLo

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HELL NO, MISTER.

July 9, 2006 at 2:43 am | Filed under bitchin' a ride, made in the Philippines, technicolor lover

In all my years of taking cabs to get from one place to another, I can only count two aggravating instances that made me wish I had:

• an airgun
• superhero powers (so I could fucking knockout Mr Cab Driver and leave without a trace)
• my own car so I wouldn’t have to hail another cab– EVER
• my own boyfriend (one who is available 24/7) with his own car and willing to drive me anywhere and everywhere

As luck would have it, tonight had to be the third.

It started with me half-wobbling from my building to the main road— 100 meters of sucking on a cigarette and carefully avoiding puddles because I was wearing my new pink satin slingbacks, damnit. And I was late, so double damnit.

I finally reached Katipunan Avenue, stopping across Starbucks where I usually flag down cabs. I didn’t last five seconds— suddenly all these Katipunan Street Adolescents flocked towards me. “Ma’am, taxi, ma’am?” I CAN FUCKING HAIL A CAB ON MY OWN, THANK YOU VERY MUCH. I don’t need you to get me one, in exchange for five pesos. Do you know what I can buy for five pesos??? Two sticks of Marlboro Reds, that’s what!

So I walked, no, SAUNTERED away from them. They threw some snide remarks at my direction LIKE THEY FUCKING MATTER.

I finally hailed an empty cab. I climb in and tell the driver to take me to Ayala Avenue. He tells me to add 30 bucks on top of whatever the fare would amount to— “because it’s already nighttime”. SO?

Filipino cab drivers are greedy little asshats, did you know that? My professor in International and Globalized Economy was once faced with a cab driver who asked for an extra 50 pesos. He (my professor) boldly suggested: “If you want, I’d even make it 70 pesos”, much to Mr Cab Driver’s embarrassment. It’s all about giving back the burden. Or something.

Tonight, I did not have that luxury (of giving back the burden, since I had gone shopping with my commission money yesterday after work), so I opened the cab door, stuck one leg out, and said “NEVERMIND”.

Cab driver takes it back. I retrieve my leg from the concrete, shut the door and tell him the route to take: Let’s pass through SANTOLAN-EDSA.

We not-so-merrily roll along. When we hit Katipunan extension, he goes “Let’s pass through Araneta”.

“NO. I SAID LET’S TAKE SANTOLAN-EDSA, IT’S QUICKER THAT WAY.”

We reach the intersection where we’re supposed to take a right to get to goddamn Santolan-EDSA. I had to tell the idiot to take take a right, as it was obvious he was planning on going straight ahead for reasons BEYOND me.

For the past THREE MONTHS, I’ve been taking a cab to get to work EVE-RY-DAY. So I know that it only costs 130 to 150 pesos— and nothing more— from Katipunan to PBCom.

Imagine my surprise (and pure pure loathing) when I noticed that the cab meter was already at 190 pesos— and we haven’t even hit Ayala yet! Surprise and pure pure loathing was to be followed by giddiness. I check my wallet, glad that I had a 100-peso and a 50-peso bill.

We pull over to the PBCom bus/jeepney/cab bay. The meter was at 220. I hand him the 150, tell him that I take a cab everyday from Katipunan to Ayala and it never exceeds 150 pesos, and he should have his fucking meter checked. He holds my money, looks at me with his mouth slightly open (surprised that I wasn’t a dumb twit who’d willingly hand over her hard-earned cash to a sleaze like him, perhaps?) while I step out of his cab, shut the door gently and walk away.

But really. You know what’s really hateful? It’s SATURDAY NIGHT AND I HAVE WORK. The big boss asked me out again (for drinks and World Cup) and I had to turn him down NOT because D would get mad :roll:, but because I had work.

And I prettied myself up for work D (skinny jeans, funky top with the neckline sliced off, pink heels— a welcome change, since I’ve been looking shabby this past week) and it turns out he’s on leave for the day. HE DIDN’T TELL ME!

(Well, he claims he did. He actually did tell me he was applying for an incentive leave— I just didn’t know it was for today!)

Grumble grumble. :blah:

EDIT!
I was whining to D about him not coming in for work. More like giving him a hard time. He has a game later this afternoon AND WHAT IS HE DOING RIGHT NOW! DRINKING, that’s what!

I just got back from my break and here’s a message that was waiting for me in my phone:

Everytime you scream at me, I wanna kiss you. Everytime you touch me, I wanna hug you cos you’re so damn sexy when you’re mad!

Cheesiness. He said he was the one who wrote the chorus for Neyo :lolol:

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OVER—!

July 6, 2006 at 9:38 am | Filed under joyful girl, technicolor lover

And last night’s “It’s The Hottest Thing Evaaarrrr (Too Bad I Don’t Have a Pictarrr)” eeeeez!: D shirtless and sprawled on my bed, his lips puckered and his forehead scrunched up as he plays a game of Free Cell. He sucks at it, though, and everytime I’d try to help him out (cos you know, I rule at Free Cell :D), he’d shush me. :blush:

I’m aware that all I’ve been writing about lately is D. It’s not because I’m absolutely smitten by him (just kinda)— it’s just that we’ve been spending a lot of time together, especially with his girlfriend out of town for who knows how long. SRSLY. Last week, he was at my condo 3 nights out of 5. He sleeps over when we both don’t have work. And then he drops by that same night, too.

For some reason, it irks me that his phone’s wallpaper is a photo of his girlfriend, when it used to be a Superman logo until some days ago. Makes me want to put up photos all over my studio of me with boys from my past. :kissy:

Yes, we’re playing a game here.

The only downside about the whole thing (NOT counting the fact that he’s cheating on his girlfriend and I’m a bad bad person for not resisting, and the “agreement” that I’m not allowed to date) is that I’m gaining weight. I’M SO FAT. All D and I do is eat, eat, and eat. I don’t even have time to overdose on laxatives cos he’s always there.

We live almost decadently: eat out, sleep in. I’m oversexed and overfed. Oh. And overworked. :cute:

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SUCH AND SUCH OPPOSITES.

July 3, 2006 at 3:30 am | Filed under a waste of human capital, ditz drivel, technicolor lover

Two sounds I dread to hear the most: my phone’s alarm going off (Britney Spears’ I Love Rock N Roll— the polyphonic version), and an Avaya beep (signalling that I have to put on my headset, un-mute my phone, deliver my spiel, and deal with some idiot Caucasian. I swear to God, I don’t get it— why call telesales, why even THINK of purchasing something over the phone when you damn well know you DON’T have a credit card?).

Ahem. Anger-be-gone.

Two sounds I love to hear the most: D knocking on my door at 10pm (Yay! He’s finally here!), and some non-idiot Caucasian with a bill to account voice telling me “I’d like to add a new line to my account/I’d like to set up an account.”

Two things I FUCKING HATE waking up to: my phone’s alarm, and hearing this fucktard from my building butcher Broadway songs with his nasal half-baritone half-tenor and blood-curdling vocal gymnastics.

Two things I love waking up to: D stretching and flexing (LOL) his biceps beside me and then watching him look around my studio before slinging an arm over my head to pull me in closer, and.. Oh what the hell. D. He twitches in his sleep! :cute:

Just two for today. I smuggled coffee out of the pantry to my workstation and now I’m dying for a cigarette.

Pacquiao won against Larios (OMG, did you guys see the tassles on Pacquiao’s shoes??? HILARIOUS. Like a village fiesta, or a Wright Park/Quiapo horse!), eTelecare lost against Infonxx. At a little past six pm, D sent me a message: “Hmp we lost”. Aww, poor baby. :(

I DIDN’T WATCH HIS GAME, BY THE WAY. Not because I had rather see Pacquiao beat the shit out of Chololo(ooo), but because I knew his girlfriend would be there, and because D did not volunteer the idea that I go fangirl over him.

Apparently, he did not “invite” me because I had sort of made it clear that watching a basketball game on a Sunday afternoon was far worse than, say, going to church. Which is true, to some extent.

Oh. And his girlfriend’s out of town. So.

I start channeling Mary-Kate Olsen TODAY. I eat more than a 6′3″ man, and I’m like, 5′2.5″. D and I had brunch at Shakey’s before his game and I had three pieces of chicken, two slices of pizza, and lots of mojos. All D had was pizza (the remaining 6 slices) and mojos. HELLO, CASTOR OIL.

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THE OTHER WOMAN CHRONICLES i

June 29, 2006 at 9:51 am | Filed under technicolor lover

D has a basketball game this Sunday (our call center versus another call center) and I want to watch.

Except his girlfriend’s probably gonna be there.

(AND OMG, I WAS TYPING THIS AND HE POPPED OUT FROM BEHIND ME TO KISS ME GOOD-BYE COS I’M ABOUT TO LOG OFF AND HE’S ABOUT TO HEAD TO THE LOUNGE FOR A NAP, OMG. I JUST ABOUT COVERED THE SCREEN WITH MY HAND, BUT HE SAW IT AND HE’S LIKE “THERE YOU GO AGAIN, WHO’S THAT WHAT’S THAT.” And then he flashes me the cuuuuutest smile.)

What’s a girl to do but ask for another kiss? ;)<3

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