Wow! It’s been more than a year since I last wrote here. Hullo, self. I hope you’re ready for more self-obsessed introspection.

Where I Am Now. I have left home for about thirteen months now. I moved to Manila last July 2010 and started working as an alipores for a month. I quit the job and had a three month vaycay where i sucked my savings dry. Took a job as a callboy for a satellite radio account because I was destitute. I persevered for six months and hightailed my ass outta there as soon as my contract was up. I went jobless for two months again and now I work as a freelance writer where most of my work hours are spent procrastinating. I will be getting my first paycheck on the 15th and I could at least pay some of my bills. I am hugely tempted to ask The Parentals for money but pride is holding me back. I am far too old to be doing that anyway.

On Re-lay-shun-ships. I broke up with my ex on June 7th thereby ending a two-year relationship. Nope. Nobody was sleeping with anybody else thank you very much oh judgmental one.

That is all. Bow.


PS: And since I just broke up with Le Exboyfriend this blog will serve as a venue for more self-loathing and self-pity and endless whining.



Some of the people featured in this post have long forgotten that this blog exists. Hurrah for friends with gainful employment and active social lives!


This Year’s Break-ups

January. The first was Obi Wan Kenobi and Jawless Bastard. Five years down the drain because Jawless Bastard is genetically programmed to stick it in as many holes as possible. (Teeny tidbit: IT isn’t even huge. Jawless Bastard is built like a girl and looks like a stamp-collecting lesbian. Jawless Bastard’s man-slut reputation just baffles me. Hmmm,  maybe he has vibra-dick.) No thanks to Jawless Bastard’s relations who have accepted males cheating on their wives as kinda normal. Or maybe Obi Wan Kenobi and Jawless Bastard just got bored with each other. And no, there was no cheating involved.

February. The next was Caronia and Watsherfaceardiesomethingorother. Didn’t really know their story since Caronia moved to QC to work hence effectively cutting off our telebabad time drastically. The relationship was long distance. And when they met in person they didn’t even get to play Scissor Sisters or Munch-the-carpet. They’re not together now and they dislike each other.

March. Last was Pacman and Natalie. Natalie is a slut and a man-whore and an occasional liar. Pacman is the barkada’s resident moral police and tends to nag. When Natalie first cheated on Pacman, Pacman forgave Natalie. The trust was broken. Pacman nags. Natalie cheats. Blah Blah Blah. Cycle cycle cycle. Pacman’s self esteem hits rock-bottom and her nagging on her boyfriend even annoyed her friends and her friends sometimes wish that Natalie would just frigging cheat on Pacman again in plain view so that it would be over and done with. THAT didn’t happen though. Although they did grow differently from each other and became different persons and they fell out of love and now their nine-year relationship is officially over. For good.


Sometimes I am scared that I love too much. Sometimes I feel stupid and silly that I am aiming for forever. Sometimes I dream that my boyfriend and I are dancing in a bar together–my eyes are at the door and I am hoping that someone better comes along. And sometimes in the dream, Someone Better comes and I see myself leaving my boyfriend alone on the floor. Sometimes I fantasize that I would catch him kissing/fucking someone else and that would give me a reason to leave him: a reason to go on a fucking rampage because I’m all hurt and shit but the truth is I’m just a horny fucker on a fucking rampage.

Sometimes the contradiction in me irks me. Sometimes I accept it as it is.

But mostly, I’m just thankful. Thankful for us. Thankful for him. Thankful that I’m stronger than my hormones.


It has been a year, us, and I am happy.

Happy Anniversary, you lummox! Aye Heartzz You. With A “Z”. Two Zs even! Oho.

Aye Izz Back!

Went to bora to spend teh bee-epps and miz purse anibursary.

I did not enjoy it.

I do not like the sun. Sunlight burns my face and the sweat that collects in my anatomy’s various cracks and crevices mutates into something evil that causes me to scratch which results to angry blotches of red which start screaming at each other and building bazookas of destruction and when they finished warring with each other they leave my skin looking like a mass graveyard full of glowering mounds of fresh scabs.

And so I feel ugly. Add the fact that I’m, er, fatter than usual and since I already gave away my “fat clothes” and some of my “transition clothes”, whenever I put on my “thin clothes” they start screaming, “Take me off you fat bitch!”

And so I feel fat. My rashes scream and my clothes scream and I am ugly and fat. Inanimate objects hate me and I’m ugly and fat.

And since I tend to obsess and am given to repetitive thought, I spent most of the trip repeatedly mumbling to myself and hating the teeming millions who dare cavort into my personal space. My aura of negative energy started leaking out and the people within my immediate vicinity point at me and say, “Oh look, it’s Mr Sunshine-hater McGrouchy!”

I kid. I am not THAT relevant. My liver hates me though.

Oho. My liver is tough. I shall name him Seamus McDrunkenidiot.

Aye izz bitchy and sulky. But le boyfriend loves me and understands. Aye laff him moar coz ammafulloflove juzz like dutt.

Work beckons and I am sleepy.

Of Being The Dumper or The Dumpee

Obi Wan: h0nestly,i love u n i do care for u but im n0t sure if i love u the same way i loved u before. lets talk abt ths next tym kung gatubangay na ta.lets jst rest anay-fr0m jawless bastard. does this mean he’s dumping me?

Me: Hmmm. . . Not yet. The dumping wil happen wen u guys r facing each other, methinks. u okay?

Obi Wan: Im good.i deserve better.the nerve of that jawless bastard.

Me: Wel, he looks lyk a lesbian. has a disproportionately thick lower lip, and a penis thats inversely proportional to his arogance. Hun, u deserv better. Waaaaaay.

Obi Wan: I have a thick lower lip t0o.will i ever find an0ther wh0 wil w0rship my awes0meness?

Me: Well, yeah. But ur bewbies, er, str8 nose draws the focus away from ur lower lip so ther. Hmmm. . . and yes. . . U wil. That is, asuming u get off ur fat ass and date around instead of being subtly suckerd into getting bangs by your koreanovelas. Hehehe.

Obi Wan: I kinda feel the same way.or i d0nt ad0re him anym0re since he d0esnt ad0re me.why would i stick with s0me0ne wh0 d0esnt w0rship me.i need w0rshipping.why d0esnt he l0ve me?why?i am s0o l0veable!huhuhu.

Howabout if i dump him first n0w?

Me: Do u want to? Or r u merely reacting that way bcoz u dont want to be the dumpee? T doesnt matter. As long as u kno wat ur getting into, or n this case, out of.

Obi Wan: Gani.i dont want that.based sa text niya,can it stil be salvaged?but its not the same just scared of the aftermath.or should i embrace it.

Me: If that’s the case, enjoy ur own company and the company of ur frends. Frankly, u r too young 2 worry abt belated singlehood. Bsyds, ur very luvable. 🙂

Then dump the bastard. And whip his fragile ego. Or u w8 and talk in person and u guys part as frends and blah blah blah. Evry1 s awkward and plastic.

Obi Wan: Should i flip a coin.oh well.i’ll sleep it off. So says sister scarlett,tom0row is an0ther day.:)thank you l0ve.y0u are wise as y0u are beautiful.

Me: I dont know, dear. <hug>

Obi Wan: Ah screw your half-assed explanati0n.i’m dumping u.there.i’m sparing you the awkward talk.draft text.ok man?

Me: Haha. Very funny. And angry. F ur aim is too alienate him 4 a long tym then thats the perfect txt. Hahaha. And yes, i am beautiful. And i wil b thin agen.

Of Dating and Gays and Quote-unquote Bi’s

Simba Nickleby
why, fancy meeting you here…

**feigns surprise**

why, hullo there. you’re here?


how are you?

Simba Nickleby

yeah. been here since the 24th of december. I got to see <name of le boyfriend> a couple of times, did he mention it? I’m good. Just getting fatter every second.

yaff. he did. said he saw you in flow, methinks.

ditto on the getting fat part. none of my pants fit me. and by NONE i mean i’m at the brink of borrowing my dad’s pants again. eeep.

so what brings you here?

Simba Nickleby

really? that big? well, i’m pretty sure you’ll splice the fat in no time.

Here? In this site? Well, just hoping to meet interesting people, to make the rest of my stay a little more interesting. Haha! Met about two already… and… well…


oh. i mean in iloilo. whoops. i figure for extended vaycay before facing the madding manila chaos?

tee. very well, let me fill up the meaning of the “…” for you. hahaha. good job. haha.

Simba Nickleby

oh! my mom didn’t get me a return ticket, so when I tried, all the earlier dates were taken. So, I got the ticket for the 13th instead. And yes, to eat home-cooked meals, more lazy time, and having the luxury of helpers at my beck and call. Haha!

Well, about them men… It’s all no big deal really. I like meeting people. It sort of “expands” me in some way. And it’s mighty interesting how a lot of gay people here call themselves, “bi.”


apparently, in this neck of the woods, bi would refer to the straight acting gay. the men here have deluded themselves into thinking that they’re of a different class from the parloristas unmindful of the fact that they(the “bis” and the parloristas) both like cocks in their mouth and cums in their chests and would shun the site of a moist vagina.

rant rant rant with raised fists and splooooey.

sure sure. meeting new people “expaaaands” you. hahahahaha.

Simba Nickleby

hahaha… i swear. what a delightfully acerbic wit! (*read in a British accent*). Oh well, I guess that’s just the way things are here. In time, child… In time.

“like cocks in their mouth and cums in their chests”… seriously? Hahaha!


well some like it in their asses also but it kinda ruins the rhythm. hahaha.

so. . . are these “interesting” men who “expand” you bi or gay?

expand. hahaha. i die.

Simba Nickleby

hahaha… uhm… “bi”. and no matter how I goad them into examining the word’s definition, they still insist they’re “bisexuals”. One of them even kept lying about his name. I don’t really care, and I respect that if you’d rather have an alias, but it’s just funny when somebody you know sees you and calls you by another name.

I’m off to mass, Luis. I’ll catch you online again one of these days. Have a good one!


eek. mass. buhbye.

u too, Simba Nickleby. see ya when i see ya.

New Year, New Resolutions

1. Lose weight. Wean yourself from real food by switching to imaginary food. Once you have developed a healthy appetite for imaginary food, start weaning yourself from it by playing with it instead of eating it. Toss around that insubstantial salad, sniff the nonexistent dressing with distaste, push away that empty plate. Soon, you’d be feeding off on people’s despair and misery. That is the ultimate diet and exercise regimen–it has zero calories and the stress you cause on yourself and others burns the fat away.

2. Be nice to people even if you’d rather bring about despair in their lives because despair is your food and you’re so hungry their eyeballs start looking appetizing and dammit stop sucking their eyeballs.

3. Try not to be totally superficial and self-absorbed. If this cannot be attained, feign interest in people’s lives and contain yourself from diverting attention back to The Hotness That is You. Ask questions. Nod at the right places. Maintain eye contact. If that doesn’t work, exaggerate your vanity so people would misconstrue it as mere attention-whoring-slash-public entertainment. The world is a movie and you are the star. Work it like any self-respecting slut.


I think one of the keys to being happy is to believe. Believe that you’re significant in this world. Believe that your job is what you want and your action impacts the universe at large. Believe that there’s one benevolent being whose main function is to make sure that your mom, dad, family is safe and that manny pacquiao wins and  your barangay basketball team makes it to the finals and win in this year’s fiesta and that your snooty neighbor will get his just desserts because the pagan filibuster had the audacity to complain about your garbage segregation (or non-segregation) habits. Believe that by virtue of your actions, a special place has been reserved for you in the divine amphitheater, front row and center no less, to listen to the angelic choir.

Buy the press release. Wear it on your sleeve. Rub it into people’s faces.