They Killed ZsaZsa!

Ok... I finally saw ZsaZsa Zaturnnah. Can't say I hated it. Can't say I loved it either. It's... so... bleh.

I just wish they stayed as true to the comic book as much as they could. Damnit. I really don't understand why they had to add extra characters and stupid CGI shit when they could've just used the money to TEACH THE ACTORS HOW TO ACT.

Oh well. Least I have the comic book.

And other than having the same first name as the main character... the lead actress was about as true to the character as Christian Bale was to Batman. Bad analogy. Wala akong maisip eh.

I wish they went with Eula, John Lapuz, Agot Isidro and Philip Lazaro.

Hay.

Plus, I think I scarred my boyfriend for life. Hehehe. I shouldn't have dragged him to watch the damn movie in the first place.

Ok, more later. Gotta go home now. The boy has work. Toodles.

Dios Mio.

Ok, this has gone on long enough. It's not even funny anymore. Surely not entertaining. Aside from the fact that it's petty, it almost constitutes bickering over a man and really... that's so beneath me.

You go on with your delusions of grandeur. I really don't care anymore. After this post, I'm done with you. I have more important matters to focus on. Like my kid, my work and my friends.

I don't know what you wish to accomplish with your little jab at my weight. Please. Pfft. Be a little more original. Calling me fat by using a medical term? I graduated with a degree in Public Health. Moron. Could you be a little more obvious? Last I checked, only first graders do this shit. And planting that seed of doubt about his fidelity? Holy Christ woman... you're only proving to me that you do indeed have the IQ of a tse-tse fly.

How many times must I repeat that I am not the least bit concerned whether or not I am the only woman in his life? Because when you look at it, I'm not the one who's being unfaithful. And I'm not blindly stupid either. I know where I stand and I'm content where I am.

Criminy... like YOU were the ONLY one in his life too? Puh-lease. Where do you think I get the information about you from? Who do you think tells me stuff about you? Bimbo. If he hadn't told me about you, I wouldn't even know you existed. Susmio.

Your little game is tiring me. And I'm a little sorry that I allowed myself to get swept into this holy clusterfuck of idiotic back and forths. The only thing I got out of this is an increase in readership in this here little blog AND a couple of laughs at your expense.

Michelle, go live your life and stop butting into mine. And for crying out loud, don't give Leo away like you own him. You don't. He belongs where he wants to belong. No one has ever been able to dictate to him. I've no plans on starting. I pick my battles. I know where I stand. He and I are great friends. More than anything, we are really great friends. He knows that, I know that.

Shit, we even talk about what we're gonna do after we break up. And we laugh about it. I already know he's not THE ONE. And I'm ok with that. The important thing to me, at least, is that we're getting what we need and want from each other and no one is being made a fool of because everything is transparent.

Leo's a great guy. Someday, he'll make a great boyfriend and possibly a great husband. He already knows how to take care of a family. He knows he wants to be ready before he starts a family. And one day... maybe in the VERY distant future, he'll mature enough to buckle down and start having that family. When that day comes, I'll STILL be his friend.

Thank you for directing a lot of traffic over to this blog. Other than Richard and Church, who I both love dearly, nobody really reads this blog. Mostly because nobody knows about it.

Besides, the REALLY juicy stuff is in the other blog. :)

Now shoo fly don't bother me.

And hello to you too...

Life has dealt me another hard blow... Apparently, all along... I've... I don't even know if I can talk about it... it just hurts too damn much... apparently, I've been using "Nice" english. NICE! How can I go on living my life now?

I've tried so hard to live my life as best as I can and still, I get comments like this. What the hell am I doing wrong?

Anyway, yeah. I'm done being petty. I just had to jab a little.

Look, I know you read my blog... I was hoping you would, actually. I wanted to be sure that you did before I address a more specific post to you. This way, it won't look like I'm talking to somebody I conjured out of thin air.

Let me be clear about one thing. I have no problem with you. None at all. You want him, go get him. He's not legally tied down to me. Never was, and honestly... never will. Right now, I'm getting what I can out of this really complicated relationship. Great companionship and frankly, out of this world sex. Like you said, I am old. Older than him. Can't change that, don't want to even if I could.

I like being my age. I love having a teenaged son. I love the freedom that my age affords me. I can go out with whoever I like. Whenever. Wherever. I don't have to answer to anyone except myself.

What I have a problem with is... you assuming that the reason he deleted you from his friends list is that I asked him to. You're so wrong. Sure he did it while I was there but honestly, I was as surprised with it as you are. I don't dictate to him. He does what he wants to do. He's his own man. I've never asked him to stop talking to his exes, stop talking to other women... or whatever.

I don't operate that way. We started out as friends and I want to end this... this convoluted relationship the same way. I've no expectations of happily ever after. Honey, I'm more grounded than that.

Do you know that I'm even friends with my exes current girlfriends or wives? I'm THAT agreeable. I don't believe in fighting over men and I don't think I'll start anytime soon. I just have too much self-respect, I guess. And believe it or not, I respect you too. You are, after all, a woman. Much like me. We love, we hurt. That alone makes us kindred spirits.

I'm not asking if we could be BFFs. I don't think that's possible after everything. Plus, it'll be too weird. But on the other hand, it'll freak him out... and that alone is worth everything. Yes, I'm evil. I know that already. :)

Look, I love him. I don't know why but I do. He's hardly as faithful to me as I am faithful to him but that's my personal hell.

What you need to know is that I love myself too. Who knows, maybe one day I'll love myself more than I love him and wake up and finally realize that he belongs to someone else. I can live with that. Because it only means that someone else is meant for me.

I know you don't have the IQ of a tse-tse fly. Believe it or not, I was talking in general. If you took offense, my apologies. I've always been a bitch when I'm angry and can't lash out.

I've known him since he was... 10, I think. He was friends with my friend's little brother. My friend and I lost touch for a few years, when I came back, L grew up. I must admit that he looks good. Cute in his own way. But that's not why I fell in love with him.

I fell in love with him the moment I realized he can make me smile inspite of everything else that was going wrong in my life. It takes a lot to make me smile. And for that, I'll forever be grateful to him.

He and I will eventually break up, much to my dismay, but until then... let's call a truce, shall we? If only to drive him crazy.

And please... don't ever tell me I use NICE english. I've worked hard my whole life trying to build up my bitchy rep. :) Among other things.

If you need to reach me, message me on friendster. Or add me. Why the heck not? It's crazy, it's unheard of and it's so decadent. :)

By the way...

Hurts like hell. Got it about a week ago. Can't say it's my favorite but I can say this... I'm NEVER going to get another tattoo on my back. Damn thing's still throbbing like a mother.

Anyway, I'm still unsure as to whether or not I regret having it done.

Long story. Not really in the mood to talk about it plus I'm being YMed to death.

So yeah, cherry blossoms and a name. Yippee.

Just another day in Spinsterville

Life sucks. Thank you. Carry on.

Thieving Bastards.

So... my phone got stolen. Thieving bastard. I wish I could get my hands on him so I could pull out his penis and choke him with it. If the thieving sack of shit even has a penis.

I'd like to skin him alive, bathe him in battery acid and then feed his boiling, melting body to rabid chipmunks.

It's the Christmas season for crying out loud!

I miss my old phone. My new one is better but the old one has all the pictures, all the videos, all the mushy messages...

Jesus Christ in spandex... if I ever cross paths with the thieving son of a bitch, I'm going to gouge out his eyes with a rusted fork.

Rich, soon as you see this, could you send me your number through YM? Thanks!

It's been hell.

I feel like I should make a list of all the things that have happened this past week. Just give you the bullets and not elaborate. But that would just spark questions that quite frankly, I'm not ready to answer. Not ready and not willing.

My love life is a complete and utter mess. I don't know what to do about it. I'm all out of ideas as to how to make it work. Or maybe I really am just expecting too much from the boy. It's just that, I'm so tired of this roller coaster ride I'm on, that jumping off and getting run over by it seems like a good idea.

Meh.

Good things. Good things have happened too. I should probably mention that. It's not like my life is one big giant reel of horrific tragedies after the other. It does have some good scenes. Once in a while. Like, I lost weight. And... I finally learned how to put on make-up. Scoff if you will but damnit, that's a big thing for somebody so opposed to being girly.

Oh and... I went to the drugstore the other night and this guy walked over to me and started asking me if I could tell him which pain reliever is better. So I answered. He said thanks and I said welcome. Well, I said, "De nada" and then he turned around and started talking in Spanish, all animated like and shit. It was almost heartbreaking to tell him that aside from the words that Ernie and Bert taught me, I know next to no Spanish.

So I thought that was that. I paid for my stuff and went out. He ran after me. Asked for my number. I told him I had a boyfriend. He said, "Boyfriend... not husband. You're still fair game."

It did wonders for my self-esteem. After the beating it took lately.... it deserved that little break.

I'm not all that bad looking. Whaddyaknow?

Almost makes me sad that I didn't give him my real number. This whole staying faithful shit is my one-way express ticket to Spinsterville.

Oh well.

If you leave him now...

It's been a week since I saw Happy Feet and I'm still walking around spouting "Let me tell something to you..." and "You're just jealous..." and "It's called land, lardface..." over and over again. It's driving everybody insane. Bah. Who cares? They're just jealous... See!?! I can't stop.

I have a lot of things I really wanna write about. Lots of things have happened this past week but I'm still pretty shaken up about it so... maybe tomorrow.

Alright, stop. Yammer time!

I can't stop yammering. I feel like if I stop talking, the world as I know it would go kaboom. Also, I'd get really bad breath. Ew. Those are valid enough reasons not to stop yammering, right? 'Course, I am typing so... dunno why that would affect the smell of my breath.

Sigh.

I just have way too many things going on inside my head. And I can't really talk to any one person about it. There are layers upon layers of all manners of intimate stuff that I can't just spill out. Horrible.

It doesn't help that my boyfriend has gone AWOL. Methinks he got tired of me. Gah, who wouldn't? I'm tired of me... Christ on stilts. I'm tired of hearing myself whine and bitch about how life isn't fair. I'm irritating myself and holy crap, there is absolutely no escape from me. None! All exits are welded shut. Barricaded with titanium steel.

Anyway, I have a lot of decisions to make. And I'm not particularly looking forward to the task. Mostly because I know my decisions will hurt me. They will inconvenience a lot of people but ultimately, they will hurt me.

I need to completely overhaul my life. Starting with... well... ok... hrm.. I just hit a snag. Stupid layers.

DAMN YOU LIFE!!! WHAT MORE DO YOU WANT FROM ME!?!

Is bitchslapped two words or one?

It's been one helluva week. I feel like I've been bitch slapped, cold cocked and whooped good and proper by life. I couldn't get any hits in. Not even a weak slap upside the head. I'm itching to whomp on some poor bastard's ass. I'm spoiling for a fight but no one's obliging me. I'm walking around with a perpetual scowl on my face accompanied by the occasional bad-tempered hiss. Not a pretty sight. Not that I was ever pretty. Pfft.

Shit, who am I kidding? I like being this snarly. I'm back baby and I got the frown lines to prove it. I could do without the bitch slapping though. That hurts like a mother.

I'm snarly, surly and downright nasty. I'm cooking up the mother of all paybacks and I swear to you it's going to hurt. They'll be whining for their mommies once I'm through with their asses. They'll be wandering the streets with dazed faces going, "what the fuck, huh wha?"

Jesus Christ, there's a whole 'nother paragraph that should come before the one above this that should explain the need for vendetta. But I can't be arsed. Just not worth it. Let them NOT see me coming. I'm gonna leave them nutless, jobless and blackballed all across the board. Just watch me.

In other news... I'm on the prowl. In stealth mode. Can't make too many noises seeing as I'm still not sure about a lot of stuff. Soon as I am... I'm open for business. Ya-frickin-hoo.

Ok. I gotta go earn my keep. Toodles. Ciao. Baflang and all that jazz.

Ch-ch-ch-ch-changes...

I had a yen to fiddle around with my blog. Added a few things and spruced up a few things too. I gotta say, I'm liking the new look.

It took me ages to figure things out seeing as how HTML still hates my guts. But I conquered you HTML! I kicked your cocky coding ass! Hah!

Changes. I need to make quite a few in my life. Starting with myself. I need to take control of my life. I need to stop letting other people stomp all over my self-esteem.

I shouldn't need anyone just to feel loved. Or validated. I'm honestly proud of myself and what I've accomplished so far.

I'm a good person. Sure I have my failings. Who doesn't? But really... I'm a good person. I have so much love to give; so much caring to share... if that isn't enough for other people, then so be it.

I am your loss. You are not mine.

I have to keep repeating that to myself at all times. I have to believe it a hundred percent.

Dane Freaking Cook

I just gotta say... I am in freaking love with Dane Freaking Cook.

He is THE funniest man alive. Everytime I go online I just have to check his site out and then go wallow in youtube. I am in love with him... Just absolutely, stupidly in love.

Whenever I say his name, I'm convinced little hearts come out of my mouth. Sigh.

How can I not be in love with him? He's funny, he's hot... he's extremely fuckable.

I'mma go melt now. Buh-bye.

Marked for life.

If I told you that I have a VERY low threshold for pain, you'd prolly slap me silly. Seeing me, you'd wonder if I'd gone nutso. Maybe I have. Most probably.

You see, I have 4 tattoos and I plan on getting more. The first ever tattoo that I got was of the Egyptian sun god, Rah. On my left arm. My friends did the tattooing and they botched it. Because it came out looking like an alien who was giving the world the dirty finger. To call it ugly would be complimenting it.

So as soon as I was able to save up enough money, I had the tattoo redone. Or fixed. Or covered up. It went from a medium sized tat into an oh-holy-crap-that's-one-big-ass-tattoo-for-a-girl sized tat. So now I have a fairy with wings the size of Pluto to cover up the stupid looking alien. It took Jeff of Black Strawberry all of 30 minutes to finish it. I love my second-slash-first tattoo.

Then I got a bug up my ass one day and decided to go in for a second tattoo. Got cherries. Left wrist. It hurt like hell. But up to this day, it's still my favorite tattoo. I'd like to think it's my temper barometer. Because for some reason, every time I feel like kicking someone's face in, the cherries turn into a more darker red than usual. Cool huh?

Next... I got a bracelet tat. Right wrist. With my son's name written on the underside part. I love it because... well who wouldn't love a tattoo of their kid's name? Exactly. Besides, it was time I got a really girly tattoo.

And then my latest.... Ooooh I love this one sooo much. Maybe because it hurt the most. Or maybe because I had it done while my boyfriend was watching after he got his tattoo done. Or maybe because it was done for free. Haha. Anyway, it's the only "abstract" tattoo that I have. I have no idea what it is or what category it belongs to. All I know is, it's damn cute.

I can't wait until I get my next one.

The end is always inevitable.

I've learned quite a few things about myself. I've learned that no matter how happy I am today, it does not mean that I'll still be happy tomorrow. Time is fickleminded. It does not respect anyone. It does not give guarantees.

I've learned that nothing is permanently mine. Everything can be taken away. In an instant. Just like that. Poof. It's gone. And no matter how tightly I hold onto something, it's not a guarantee that it won't slip between my fingers.

I've learned that love hurts. That the intensity of the hurt is directly related to the intensity of the love.

I've learned that despite how good I am, despite how careful I am, I can still get my ass kicked.

I've lost the love that I've prayed for. I'm lost. I'm hurt. I'm going to survive this.

Curses.

I'm tired. Very tired. They're all coming back. Every single one. I think they banded together and planned all this just to make my life miserable.

That or, I have to face the ugly truth that I'm also one of many and not the only.

Love should not be this exhausting.

I miss not being in love. Just me, my kid and my weird toys.

Saturday morning mayhem.

Went out with the boy again last night, after work. We seem to be going out a lot these past few days. Not that I'm complaining. I'm thoroughly smitten, after all. We have so much fun when we're together. Despite the embarrassing show of mush and the inevitable holding of hands, we always enjoy being together.

Creeping crumpets. I've turned into such a girlfriend. Who'd have thunk it? I let him hold my hand, I let him open doors for me. ME! The oh-so-fiercely independent one. Just goes to show, old dogs CAN learn new tricks. Arf.

Seriously though, I feel like I'm slowly becoming somebody I'm not. And I'm still unsure whether or not I like that it's happening. I like being rough around the edges. I like being snarly and surly and forever morose. Now, it's like somebody gave me a lobotomy without my knowledge and turned me into this... this... cheerful person. Good lord.

Before this dramatic change, I woulda just walked over to the conniving, pathologically lying bitch and slapped some sense into her. Now... shit... now, I just gnash my teeth, smile and let everything pass. Not as satisfying as the first scenario.

Lemme just say this now though... Get it out of the way... So I can stop dwelling on her and just focus on what's important.

You don't worry me. You were one of many. I'm the only.

I don't begrudge your relationship with him. I'm sure you treated him well and vice versa. But that's in the past. It should stay there. Don't try to rekindle anything by showing him naked pictures of yourself. That's just waaaay too desperate. And the ONLY sure thing you'll get out of it is a roll in the hay. But hey, if you're content with that, then by all means, keep it up. I personally think you're worth more than that. Honestly.

Ok. I got that out of my system.

Back to being foolishly in love. Oh lordy.

Oh It's On, Bitch.

Hoboy. I am hanging on by a thread. One more and I'm about ready to snap. The nerve of some people! When people assume they know me, or things about me, it makes me want to prove them wrong. If only to make them look like complete jackasses. Which they are. Really.

I was gonna write about the great time that I had with the boy yesterday. Believe you me it was one helluva great time. We saw Open Season at the IMAX Theater. Fun Fun. Stupid looking big-ass glasses but fun fun, nonetheless. See that smile? See? Fun, huh?

Then we ate at Tokyo Tokyo. Talked about the ex. Again. Was damn proud of myself that I didn't raise a hissy fit. Look, I get it that she was a part of his life, once. I get that. I'm still friends with a lot of my exes. But I don't offer to show them my naked pictures, damnit.

So, yeah. Anyway. We ate at Tokyo Tokyo. The boy, despite knowing that I HATE having my picture taken, took one of me.

I get really stupid when I'm angry and can't lash out.

Ready... Aim...

What makes a woman go after someone else's man? I really wanna know. Is poaching considered not unethical anymore?

I mean, don't these women have any sense of what's fair game and what's not? Maddening, is what it is. Ok, I believe in the saying, "All is fair in love and war." I'm willing to bet though that the shmuck who came up with that saying is one conniving, manipulative sonofabitch who has no morals.

I've never poached. I've always respected other people's relationships. I've been poached on, lots of times. And every time hurt like hell. Now I know that if my guy can be easily swayed by another pair of mammary glands with the IQ of a tse-tse fly then he's not worth two shits. But it still hurts.

It hurts because once again I've relied on common decency to prevail and once again my stupidity has cost me yet another heartbreak.

Now, I don't claim to be the epitome of decency and morality. FAR FROM IT. But, I know what's fair and I try to be as fair as possible. I don't poach, I don't stalk, I don't advertise my goddess-like sexual prowess (well, maybe just this once... bwahahaha), and I don't ever, EVER go through the obvious trouble of conjuring lovechildren out of thin air in hopes of fulfilling my convoluted fantasy of happily ever after.

You might think, "bitchy, much?"

Well damnit yes I am bitchy. I am pissed as all hell. Pissed beyond reason that once again, my relationship is threatened by some two-faced bimbo-slash-daughter of Satan on Prozac. It pisses me off because once again, regardless of past experiences, I am left to rely on other people's sense of decency.

I'd say, "bring it on sistah," but why bother? I've never arm-wrestled over men before, why should I start now? Either I'm enough for him or I'm not. Besides, I still believe in karma. I mean, karma's one helluva bitch. I know. It has kicked me in the ass one too many times. And believe you me, karma can sure wreak havoc. I respect karma now, I think we've reached an understanding.

I hate having the monthlies. It just brings out the worst in me.

Malling. LeoChy-style.

So... Mall of Asia...

Been there, done that. Got lost a few times but heck, I conquered the damn thing and that's what matters.

I was actually there on a date. My first I think, with my boyfriend. First official date. First official anniversary or like the teenagers say, monthsary. God, it hurt just typing that. Anyway, so yeah, first official monthsary. Don't ask, we're weird that way.

We wanted to watch The Departed but found out we were a week late so we saw World Trade Center instead... Jesus Christ with a bottle of mineral water... Who comes up with this shit? Seriously. After the movie, we went and got lost. I wanted to eat someplace new. But we ended up eating at Chowking. Glorious. Not. But we had fun.

We also hung out and just stared at the err... horizon. Great view. If you don't look down. I did. So I had to back away... a couple of feet away. Had to drag the boy back with me. Scary drop. Christ in stilts.

We had a blast. I had a GREAT time. I haven't laughed that much in ages. Felt good. Of course, I had to ditch work but it's ok. It was for a good cause.

I think I scared the crap out of him though when I started talking about babies. Well... a baby girl more specifically. So sue me, I want one. I even told him that as long as the she gets her nose and her lips from me, the yet unnamed, unconceived, child can get everything else from him. He was a good sport about it though. The boy has balls, who'd have thunk it?

I have to go. It's getting late. I gotta go buy meds and the boy has work tomorrow. He needs sleep.

So toodles and all that crap.

Compli-fuckin-cated beyond words.

I haven't really been posting a lot these past few weeks. It's just that I've somehow "lost my voice." Everything I start writing eventually end up getting scrapped. Plus, my laziness has hit its all time high. Or low. Blech.

And my grammar just went to hell. Again. Damn thing likes the spankings too much.

Anyway, life has been REALLY complicated. Work is once again, blah. Life at home is... weird. My so-called love life is just waaaay too err... complifuckincated. No two shits about it.

I mean, I'm really head over ass in love with HIM but.. Gah! I don't even know why the fuck I think it's complicated in the first place. I mean, he's really really sweet when we're together.... and he makes me laugh and smile. I mean, I don't smile! Ever. But when we're together, I smile all the freakin' time! What the hell is up with that? Weirdness.

What the hell did I get myself into?

He has women hanging around him like... like.... damn they just hang around him all the time! (I told you I lost my voice. I think my IQ went with it too.)

His exes are STILL popping up like... like.... crabgrass! Ok.. bad analogy. I MISS MY IQ! Sumbitch.

I complain too much. I better start writing again. Before I completely forget how to.

Blogspot is my mistress.

How can one really be sure that there is more to a current relationship than just lust? That it is more than just heady, mind-boggling, life-altering great sex? Not that that in itself is bad but sometimes, you just need more. Or less. Depends on how you look at it.

Currently, I am doing the horizontal tango with this really scrumptious boy. He's 24. Yes, still a boy. Compared to my matronly 33. Anyway, he's great in bed. Sweet and very considerate really. Not what you'd normally expect from young 24 year old man-boys. They're more of the wham-bam-thank-you-ma'am type. But this guy, let's call him Caldo. That's italian for hot. Ok, Caldo is just amazing.

His kisses leave me wanting for more. He knows exactly where to touch me and he knows, even before I do, how I'm going to react. He leaves me breathless, aching and always sated. A few orgasms later, I feel like he's managed to melt all my bones into a puddle of quivering buttery mass. And then and only then would he take care of his needs. Amazing.

And as if that's not enough, he doesn't roll over and snore right after. He drags me into a fierce cuddle and talks to me. We talk about his life, my life, stupid riddles, silly jokes. Anything really. Or we play with my cellphone and try and beat each other at Mobile Darts.

I would have to be really stupid to want more or less of that, right? Don't answer that. The thing is, I know him well enough to know that he doesn't take anything or anyone seriously. The number of broken hearts that he is responsible for is just staggering. He still receives emails , text messages and notes from women he's either dated or slept with, heartbroken but still hopeful.

Or they would start out as angry messages but would always end on a hopeful note. Everytime I talk to him about this, he just brushes me off. Or smothers me with kisses. And then my brain would shift to crazy lustful woman mode and the topic would be forgotten. Until the next time his cellphone goes off and I'd read yet another hopeful text message.

I feel bad for these women. At the same time, I'm scared shitless too. I know, down the line, he'll treat me the exact same way. The big difference though is that, unlike them, I don't hound him to come over and spend time with me. If he's here, then great. If he's not, then he's not. The sex is great but the risk is greater so I keep him at arm's length. Magic Johnson arms. He hates it. It pisses him off that I'm not at his beck and call. Fat chance of that happening. I've been down this road so many times, I'm in no hurry to go down it again.

It boggles him I think when he sees that I don't treat him any differently than I do my other guy friends. He needs to feel wanted, special and pursued. Good luck getting that from me. He's not worth the heartache. And I am. So there.

I don't know why I wrote this. Maybe I just needed to sort my thoughts. Or maybe I needed to kill some time until he got out of the shower. Who knows? One thing I know for sure is... either way this plays out, I'm screwed. So... might as well.