I was four-years old when the Eraserheads first came out and I didn’t start listening to them until my brother brought home a copy of Cutterpillow. Ten is too young an age to appreciate and fall in love with an odd-sounding quartet whose songs were nothing I could relate to, but Ang Huling El Bimbo captured my pre-adolescent heart.
Getting to the Eraserheards reunion concert last Saturday turned into an almost-epic adventure for Drew and I and save for a few bumps (like Drew losing his phone right when the band opened with Alapaap and my having to wrestle with a hundred people for water), it was a remarkable experience. There have been enough complaints written about how badly produced the event was; Ticketworld clearly misled us with the map of the venue they posted on the site, as there was no mention of VIP and SVIP sections. I’m sorry if I expected to get more out of the 1,300 I shelled out, really, but never the mind. It was enough to see hear live for the last time (but let’s hope not) a band whose music greatly made up the soundtrack of our formative years.
I really wish I could post some badass pictures from that night, but I have none. Instead, I shall show you how just how far (away from the stage) my monies could get me:
I’d post the video clips I took but they’re all very Blair Witch Project, seeing that I couldn’t stop swaying, shrieking, singing, and jumping up and down.
Two days into the week and I’ve already had enough heart attacks (caused by my stupidity) to last me until I finally and glamorously keel over and die of a drug overdose on the eve of my 25th birthday. You could say I haven’t been having a good week and I can only hope that the sucktitude has reached its peak when I accidentally deleted Adobe Photoshop on my office-issued Mac machine this morning, five minutes into my shift.
When I finally got home from work, there was a merry group of beady red ants convening on my bed. MY BED! I swallowed my fear of the evil creepy-crawlies and— one by one— squished them between my index finger and thumb, gleefully exclaiming DEAD! with every kill. Nuking them with insect spray would’ve been easier but that would require asking my dad where he keeps the spray can which would trigger a slew of questions which would eventually lead him and my mom into banning me from snacking while in bed. Living with the parentals is an everyday challenge, I tells ya.
Enough thinking out loud. It’s an hour into Wednesday aka Hump Day and everything’s going smoothly. The internets is not acting up (or conking out like it did on me, Monday early morning) and the weather is perfect for sleeping in (yes, it’s 1 in the morning and I’m thinking about sleeping in). But I can’t. I hope everyone’s been having a better last-two-weeks than I am.
The good news is, Sam Milby’s not in it (rumor had it he was going to play Nate Archibald’s role). The bad news is, the Philippine version of Gossip Girl is *here* and as expected, it’s a bucket of lulz. It’s tacky, it’s stupid, it’s pretentious, it’s ugly, it’s hokie, the boys look like douches, the accents (aka attempts at sounding rich) are horrible, most of the cast can’t act, and it fails. Miserably.
Seriously, watch this teaser (LOL at the narrator’s bad inflection, especially when she says “the younger generation”. Why so perky?):
Notice how they’re all “I’m rich I’m rich I’m awesome because I’m rich, even though my clothes look like the cheap shit you get in Divisoria I’m rich and I’m powerful and popular but I’m very sad, too, because I’m a teen and I have real problems oh and hey look! I HAS A GUN! YEY! Lemme wave it around for you while I talk about how rich and awesome and powerful I am!”
Are you freakin’ kidding me. Do you see that kind of bullshit and stereotyping in Gossip Girl? Of course not. Why? Because it’s cheap behavior. And maybe this joke of a TV show (Lipgloss) shouldn’t be compared to the real McCoy (Gossip Girl) because it’s not an exact adaptation, but it’s kind of hard not to when there are so many obvious similarities in the plot and the characters. I don’t know what I just said but I think what I’m trying to say is that this spin off is disgusting (can’t think of another word) and riding on GG’s popularity. God, the thought of it alone gives me goosebumps of horror. I mean, SERIOUSLY?! Can you imagine just how dumb and vapid each train wreck of an episode is going to be???
And who the heck names their kid Julivee?
Pilot (which aired yesterday) preview:
Face of the First School Day? With a trophy and flowers and a public awarding? Really? Really??? I bet my ass that my idiot cat, Bobby, who catatonically stares at walls and the floor for hours can pen a better show than this.
I mean, there is nothing exceptional about Gossip Girl to begin with. I watch it for the pretty people and Chuck Bass (my GG episodes take up around 5 gigs of my hard drive). People love the show because, while it has nothing substantial to contribute to the betterment of the world and society (unless Ed Westwick takes off his shirt, which I am crossing my fingers for), we want to be them. I seriously can’t think of anyone who’d want to be an Abby (who calls herself a second generation showbiz brat, whatever the heck that is. She’s pretty, though) or a Meg (who seems really really lame and can’t speak properly).
I’ve been scouring the internet lately, looking for quick and easy (oh, you know me, never up for a challenge unless there’s promise of vodka, undying love, and half-naked pictures of Ed Westwick when it’s all over) freelance gigs I could do during the weekends. It’s about time I start taking on “side jobs” and hopefully build a client base, seeing that ultimately (like, five years from now), my plan is to work from home.
Okay, the truth is: I’m running out of drug money.
It’s been a day and unsurprisingly, I’ve got nothing. Mainly because I got distracted by this list of funny job descriptions. A few favorites:
-Read things that don’t matter, then write papers saying they do matter, for points that don’t matter, in order to get a job doing something totally unrelated: Student
-Take numbers on pieces of paper, rearrange them and put them on different pieces of paper: Tax Accountant
-Teach your kids enough to complain but not enough to make a difference: College Teacher
-Make sure nothing ever happens: IT Security
-Run away and call the police: Security Guard
-Copy and paste the Internet: Student
-Talk in other people’s sleep: College Professor
And then a call for interns from a New York-based company:
DESCRIPTION: Ok, so maybe you don’t have any experience. Do you think you have potential? Do you learn easily? Do you need college credit? If so we are always looking for interns. Hey… it’s not just a job. It’s an adventure. Oh yeah, we’re a paperless office so we can guarantee you won’t ever have to file anything.
MANDATORY SKILLS: The ability to stay awake for long periods of time.
Funny job titles and listings (from the very entertaining Craigslist) here. Enjoy.
August 11, 2008 at 5:05 pm | Filed under ditz drivel
Though there are days when I hate my curls (which turn into a big frizzy mess if I so much break into a sweat), it’s going to be a while until I go back to sporting straight hair, for two reasons: 1) I refuse to subject my stressed tresses to the whole rebonding process, and 2) I’ve had a handful of friends tell me that my disastrous brown curls suit me better than the straight and black hair I was born with.
Unfortunately, the current state of my hair makes for unbearably ugly bad hair days. The top half of my head is poofy and wavy while the lower half has limp, dry curls. I obviously need to sit my ass on a salon chair and have a stylist work his fairy magic on me. This time around, I shall come prepared and have an actual look to reference to. With the help of Anne, I have decided on this particular style:
MARY-LOUISE PARKER AS WEEDS’ NANCY BOTWIN.
A question, though: is that an actual perm or just a curling iron?
I’m not entirely sure if I’ll copy the side bangs, too. I’m a bit iffy about getting bangs again because the last time I had them, a gay friend thought I was hideous (that was the exact word he used). I don’t have the forehead nor the face for it, anyway.
Sadly, this isn’t a priority right now and I’ll probably have to wait until next month ’til I can get my hair done. My goals for August is to finally open a passbook savings account and try not to spend all my money on silly purchases*. I also promised my mom a new pair of eyeglasses.
(Okay, so that’s a lie. Heh.)
*My God, I want those boots so bad and I would have gotten them, had they not been red. I want a gray pair, like Serena Van Der Woodsen’s.
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. More?
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. 
