This is me, untying my knot.

People suck.

Well, mostly just this one person, whose main goal in life is to attack me from behind.

Backstabbing bitch.

Let's hear it for the boy...

I think enough time has passed since I went on the lunch slash blind date... so it's probably ok to post about it already.

For the record, I hate blind dates. I really do. And only because I feel pity for the schmuck who got roped into taking me out. So anyway, I met up with him at Starbucks (how predictable) and then we moseyed on over to Teriyaki Boy.

Oh wait, about the boy. He's a friend of a friend and instead of my original plan of skinning my friend for setting me up, I am now letting him stay uhm... unskinned. He's 32 years old, works at a call center and is funny as hell. I haven't laughed like that in ages! He has the appropriate amount of ink on his body, loves the fact that I'm inked too AND we have tentatively set up another date so we could go visit my tattoo artist. So fun.

It was originally just a lunch date but it went on until he had to go to work. So he took me home, and he went to work. We haven't stopped texting since. So fun. Wait, I said that already.

He knows about this blog and I told him that I'll post about him soon. So... buster, if you're reading this, smile. Or laugh. I think they're looking for the spoon still. You're so evil. I love it.


Edit:
This is in not THE DATE FROM HELL. That was a different boy. Already people are texting me about it. Why they would think I had fun with the most egotistic, self-important dillhole is beyond me. So no, this is not Mr. Scraggly Ass McDillhole. I think he's still looking for his nuts.

Then and now...

Look at how short my hair was a couple of years back.... holy crap! I dunno how I convinced myself that I liked my hair short. I lied. I don't.



Now... that's more like it. So girly, but I don't give a rat's scraggly ass. I love it. There I said it. I love my long hair.

If you repeat it though, I'll deny it and I'll stuff your nuts so far up your ass, it'll take two hamsters to dig 'em out.

By the bay...

I know it's small but you get the idea. The first two pictures are from my camera and the last two are from Christian's. My cam kicks his cam's ass. Hehe.

We are such a bunch of gooks.

S'more, please?

For those in the know.... there should've been one more "pairs" picture in this mix but bleh... can't really post it.

OOooh Sparkly!

It's the tree at San Miguel by the Bay at the back of MOA... err MAA. Sorry, Mico. Anyway, there are more pictures to be posted.... prepared to be overwhelmed.

Gross generalization.

I'm swearing off men, the internet and fun for 2009.

Now what?

This is the first time that I've spent Christmas eve and day alone, at home. I was prepared to be depressed and hopeless. I even expected to feel resentful that I was spending, what is normally a family day, alone but surprisingly, I didn't feel that way.

Friends called. Family texted. I made pasta and garlic bread. I settled down to watch TV around 9pm and I couldn't decide what to watch. I kept changing channels. I didn't know what I wanted to watch. Until I came across, Mr. Magorium's Wonder Emporium on StarMovies.

It looked like my kind of movie... I mean, hello, TOYS! And Natalie Portman. Need I say more? Anyway, I didn't expect to be so bowled over by the movie, I especially loved the little boy Eric and the adorable way he just reached out and touched my heart.

And of course, Dustin Hoffman just.... I dunno... made me believe. In myself. I felt like he was talking to me. No, I didn't think I was Natalie Portman but I have lost all my faith in myself. Until he said this one particular line...

"Your life is an occasion. Rise to it."

You know what? I believe I will.

A couple of things...

Posted pictures over at Livejournal. If you're not a friend, tough.

There's a reason why I loathe being friends with women... they just can't be happy for you, can they? They have to be snide, jealous and insulting. That's why I have more male friends than female. Females are just fucked up.

I'm going to be spending Christmas alone at home. 'Tis the season to be pissed off at everybody and nobody in particular but I don't necessarily want to be THE wet blanket at this year's family reunion-slash-gathering so I opted to stay home.

For next year's big feat, I'm going to go all out and become my most misogynistic self. Fuck it, who needs friends?

It just keeps coming...

The way I see it, if I want to stay sane, at least for the holidays, I can do one of three things...

a) delete my account in facebook
b) remove some people from my friends list
c) get a crowbar and pry my heart out

I'm leaning towards the third option. Mostly because I love the fact that I can take out my rage on a couple of low level vampires on Vampire Wars and I have no valid reason to remove people from my list.

The sweetest, most comforting phrase in the whole world... "You killed your opponent."

Bunny Boyd!

I want one.

Regression is Fun.

We are a bunch of childish hooligans. And it's freaking great!

Frustration.

What good is it to fight when you can't even have glorious make-up sex after? Damnation.

Tis the season to be screwed.

So.. yep. I'm a free agent. Right before Christmas. Ya-fucking-hoo.

Click.

So.

I've been remiss in my blogging. I have no valid reason. None at all. Nada. Zilch.

I have been going out with friends though... and that is always fun. Once I get everything settled and uploaded, I'll post pictures.

I have tons.

I made the list!

It's murder, this whole trying-to-be-nice-because-I-want-loads-of-stuff-on-Christmas deal. It just makes me itch so bad. I mean, sure, I'm not a horrible person but I'm not one of them frighteningly nice people. You know what I mean. They're the people who you do every unimaginable horrid thing to and they still forgive and love you. People who wake up with smiles on their faces. Ugh.

But yeah, anyway, for the better part of the year, I did try my very best to make it to the nice list. Sure, I've been naughty too but isn't that nice for some people? So when you really think of it, even if I made it to the naughty list, that's still a good thing and I should still get what I want for Christmas. Right?

What? There's no such thing as the naughty or nice list? Are you effin' kidding me? Seriously?

Bah, who cares? I'm still listing down the stuff that I want for Christmas. Because, one, you never know when somebody would actually get you something off of your list, and two, it never hurt nobody to believe in a jolly old fat guy in a red suit that only works once a year delivering presents to nice children all over the world.

So here goes:

A Domo Kun Plush Keychain
A Flickr Pro account
A Threadless shirt

There's more but I'll list them later.

It did, didn't it?

Thank gawd for camera phones. Otherwise I wouldn't have been able to take a picture of what I think is a very, very cool phenomenon known as Planetary Conjunction. So that right there is Venus and Jupiter with a crescent moon thrown in for good measure. I'm too lazy to post the actual scientific 'splanation... soooo... Google it yourselves. Harhar.

Anyway, whatever scientific mumbo jumbo it's called, I still like to think of it as "The Day the Heavens Decided to Give Me A Break."

My own special brand of heroin...

Sometimes, all you need to cure a broken heart is to spend the day with the people who love you unconditionally.

Of course, it also helps if you spend it by pigging out on pasta and pizza, acting like lunatics and watching a gorgeous vampire on the big screen.

Hooked.

So.... yeah. I am completely in love with him. I should be shot between the eyes. Oy.

King Neptune's going to shit a brick.

Priceless.

Oh and here's a copy of the lyrics:

Excitement abounds
I almost can't wait
Relax, I don't want your baby
I already ate
Though I do tend to generally kill
Kill things that don't fight back

I see this village
What does it hold?
What shall I butcher them with
Fire or cold?
Running from me sure you'd think
'He's a pathological bloodthirsty homicidal maniac!'

I'd kill kittens and puppies and bunnies
I'd maim toddlers and teens and then more
You see a wife? I see a widow
But what then?
Can't you see?
I'd kill four!

I want to incinerate and decapitate
I want to melt
Want to melt some faces
Watching the peasants...what do they call it?
Ahh...grieve!
I suppose that being undead there's not much to life
A soul is needed for loving...feeling...
How does this all not make me...what's that word again?
Heave!

You've nowhere to hide
Nowhere to run
Your village will burn like the heart of the sun!
With infinite glee
It's going to be me
That slaughters the world!

How could I glare into these eyes
And then not stab them?
How could I stare at their loss
And then not laugh?
I'd cut him in half
Then I'd graft
His head back onto his shoulders
Or after I'd lop it
I'd make a puppet
On top of a staff!

I am a lord that is sometimes bored
Have some urges and need to fulfill them
After my mayhem I simply don't...what's the word?
Care!
The stench in the air
The smell of the gore
The carnage far greater than any war
My legacy
Death becomes...me!
I'll slaughter the world

Glomp!

"This sleepy ninja is best known for its glomping skills. Whether defending Ninjatown from attacking pillows or simply training with Ol' Master Ninja at the carwash, there is seldom a dull moment for Siege.

And when not training or defending, daydreaming with her ninja friends at the Club Ninja is the past time of choice.

Beware this ninja's extreme level of squishiness."

A Different Kind of Dear John

Dear Mr. Right,

Ok, the kid gloves are off. No more Ms. Congeniality. I'm 36 years old and, might I add, not getting any younger. When in hell are you planning to show yourself?

What is taking you so long? Too macho to ask for directions? Can't find the big pulsating arrow that is pointing straight at me? I mean, what are you waiting for? The Apocalypse? Well don't hold your breath on that one, I told them not to set one hoof on this earth until I'm good and hitched to you.

Seriously, when are you getting off your ass to come find me? Surely you don't expect ME to come find YOU, right? I mean, hello! I celebrate the concept of equal rights and all that but I don't want to miss out on the getting swept off my feet part of the deal.

So quit your lolly gagging and start looking for me. Now.

Because, all I know is, eventhough I haven't met you yet, I already miss you.

Applications Anonymous

I've become totally addicted to playing Vampire Wars on Facebook. Dagnabit. I think I'm getting better at it though. I used to play ass backwards. Now at least I'm making admirable progress as compared to rising up the levels but getting kicked on and ripped apart every 5 minutes.

Okay, I have to go check if I need to bank my blood now or if I've been hitlisted... again.

Damn bloodsuckers.

Such a bang up job!

As if life isn't craptastic enough as it is.

Scored.

Due to recent disheartening events, I was able to get off early from work. I went home with every intention of catching up on sleep. Which I did. For 4 hours. I'm not really all that caught up, obviously.

So anyway, since I couldn't obviously go back to sleep, I went on a cleaning frenzy. And because I could never do anything without any music on, I popped in the soundtrack for Wanted.

To tell you the truth, and this may sound pretty childish, but I think I did stuff a tad better because I felt like I was an assassin, ridding the world of unwanted dust and grime.

There's nothing like folding your laundry to a musical score that makes you feel like you were dismantling a bomb instead of rolling up socks. Cool.

The Scent of a Memory.

You know how most of the time, a scent hits you and it immediately triggers a landslide of emotions and you're left dumbfounded in the middle of a busy street, unsure of what to do next, an all-out emotional upheaval threatening to swallow you whole, unless you smell something totally different and everything returns to normal?

How you find yourself unable to move, think or even breathe because that smell is something you've tried to forget and has only recently semi-succeeded doing so?

How, from one minute, you've gone from being a normal, fully functioning human being to becoming a quivering mass of gibberish and tears?

How, that one scent can destroy months and months of self-therapy, of poring over self-help books, of making a conscious effort not to live like a hermit, buried under a pile of photographs, love letters and clothes left over from when you still lived together?

How, in that one moment, you're forced to face the reality that you haven't really moved on. You haven't really forgotten and you haven't really let go?

I almost got run over by a skateboarding maniac all because I caught the scent of his favorite cologne and all over again, my heart broke into a million pieces.

An apple a day..

I spent the better part of the afternoon helping my bestfriend's son, Mico with his kumon worksheets. I don't know who had a harder time staying put, me or him. 20 minutes into the whole thing and I was getting antsy.

It was nice though. I got to "teach" again and there was peace in the land. Seeing as I took over the teaching responsibilities for the afternoon, the whole house was spared from all the ruckus that the mother and son tandem would have generated. Ah... peace.

In other news, the time has come to slip out of my frontaldisguise skin and shimmy into something less stressful and disappointing. Goodbye and good riddance.

Which reminds me, I have a video for my studmuffin. I just have to rewatch it and see if it's barf-proof. Haha.

Oh and one more thing.

I've always believed that people are inherently good. I am one of those schmucks who still think that you reap what you sow. So I try and be as decent as possible to the people in my life. I may not always succeed but I've never intentionally hurt anybody. Never had, never will. Karma and all that.

So, lemme just put it out there, just in case people get any ideas of taking advantage of the fact that I am, and will always be, an emotional pushover... I have a limit to the amount of bullshit I can and will take from people... and when that limit is reached...

I push back and I make abso-fuckin-lutely sure you fall off the edge. Try me.

Got it? Yeah? Alrighty then, let's now return to our regularly scheduled program of uninterrupted, no commercial breaks, Siege Love Parade Extravaganza.

Here's what I think.

Sometimes, people take me for a fool. They think that if they say what they think I want to hear, then I'll believe them.

Uhm.. no.

You have the freedom to be all smooth and slick but what you do not have is the assurance that I bought all your crap.

I have way too many good people in my life to be taken in by someone of your uhm... low caliber.

Love Conquers All

me: i love you
rich: YOU JUST KILLED ME
me: hehehe
me: yeah but I love you!
me: doesn't that count for something?
rich: not really
rich: I'm dead
me: ick. i hadn't thought of that.

One for the history books.

There are no words to express how extremely grateful I am that I have witnessed something so immensely life-changing.

Obama won.

I Are Smart!

me: sigh
me: facebook is for genius
me: err
rich:
me: there goes my grammar
rich: yes
me: facebook is for smartasses
me: there
me: better
rich: lol


p.s.
the title is obviously a joke. just saying.

Burn, baby, burn.

I'm a pretty understanding, non-judgmental person. I'm a big fan of the live and let live philosophy. I'm not a god so I can't smite anybody and I don't want to. I've got enough problems of my own without taking on the world's morality on my shoulders.

But. And this is a doozy...

I have no respect, understanding, patience or forgiveness for baby killers, adulterers and prostitutes.

There is no reason, no circumstance that can justify killing an unborn child, coveting and sleeping with someone else's spouse and selling your body for a few thousand bucks. No reason. None.

Ok, maybe you were taken by force. Nobody should have to go through that and all rapists should go to hell. But... I still don't think it justifies killing the unborn child. Bring it to term, give it up for adoption. More humane, don't you think?

18 years old and got pregnant by your booty call? SUCK IT UP. Don't damn yourself to hell by killing the unborn child. Like I said, bring it to term then give it up for adoption. It's not its fault you were a slut, is it?

As for adulterers and prostitutes... you have no shame. None. I hope you all burn in hell.

Erica had a little lamb...

I'm not sure if my fleece is as white as snow or if I even want to have fleece at all but... baaa baaaa.

Try it, it's fun.

What do you see in the mirror?

First posted on LiveJournal, September 16, 2003

When I look in the mirror I see me. All the time. Even when I sneak up on it and pounce unannounced, I still see me. There's no escaping me. You would think I'd stop trying but nooooo, there must be some way to peek into the mirror and see someone else.

A mask. I thought that would help. But beneath the cardboard catface, it's still me. I even tried drawing on a mustache and maybe dotting in some freckles. Perhaps that would do the trick. No, the smirk is still mine, the eyes that look back - mine.

Maybe if I spin around really fast and then stop abruptly before checking the mirror. Surely that would make me go all dizzy and I'll lose all perspective so when I look in the mirror I might not see me but someone else. Not only did it not work but my lampshade got knocked into smithereens in the process. Wait, let me check now. Maybe now someone else will stare back. Nope. Still me.

I bite my lower lip and think really hard. Why can't I see someone else? Someone other than me. I promise I won't be mean to it like I sometimes am to me. I won't nitpick and point fingers and call it names. I won't enlarge the flaws and hide the sparkles. I will praise, love and embrace.

I won't ridicule and hate. I'll be more forgiving and accepting. I shall bring it to the moon and eat mooncakes with it while jumping around the craters. We'll have fun and we'll laugh and sing and dance. We will pucker our lips at each other and pretend we're fun flapper girls with pearl necklaces longer than our dresses.

I want to see someone else besides me. I'm sure the me on the other side would like that too. I haven't asked me though. Maybe I will tomorrow. After I try once more. If I fail, me and I will talk. If I succeed, I'll tell me and we all can be friends.

Zip me up, will ya?

I've come undone.

Love, Et Al.

It's been a weird couple of days. I have this pervasive feeling that I'm missing out on something wonderful. Something that's rightfully mine. All because I've chosen to settle.

As far back as I can remember, I've been settling when it comes to relationships. I've never really taken the time to step back and consider what I was getting myself into. So it's been one disastrous relationship after the other. I can admit that now. I was never happy with any one of them.

Anyway, I've been dreaming about Mr. Right for the last couple of weeks now. Only, I haven't got a face. Just the totality of him. But the dreams are so vivid. So... real. Like, all I have to do to turn them into reality is wake up and make the conscious effort of getting myself ready for when he decides to come into my life. Does that make sense?

I know that sounds so... passive or naive but what I am is hopeful.

Gah. I blame Edward, Josh and Richard. They will be the death of me yet.

Starvation, the diet of champions.

Frightening, innit?

I stand corrected...

Elijah isn't the only male in my life who hasn't disappointed me. There is of course, Rich. My snugglebunny.

Although there were times when he's managed to make me cry. But that's mostly because I'm such a drama queen.

Rich is my snugglebunny, my studmuffin, my toy-pusher and the ONLY male in my life who's gotten me more than one memo in this lifetime. Hehe.

Turn Up The Volume!

No really, seriously, before you click on the play button, turn up the volume because this video was taken with a very crappy camera phone so it's going to be small and it's going to require you to have bat-like hearing abilities. Heh.

Anyway, this is the love of my life. My one and only baby boy. The only male that will never, ever disappoint me.

He only just started learning this song last night and this was taken early this morning. Is he good, or what?

Death by Guitar String.

I don't think I've blogged enough about my kid, Elijah. He's 15, sweet, funny, stubborn as hell like his Mom and talented to boot. Right now, he's trying to become the next great lead guitarist. There's just one problem. And his name is Sungha Jung.

To say that Sungha Jung is a musical genius is to underplay his talent. He is just... gifted.

Don't get me wrong now, my kid can play. And he has managed to learn how to play the guitar all on his own. I am one proud momma. But Sungha Jung will have him for breakfast.

Ribbit.

Why must you immediately think that when others are critical of you and yours that they're naturally, obviously just jealous of you?

Like if I said how you're a pathetic, skanky little twit, that automatically makes me jealous of you? Uh, hello. Not everything is about jealousy, people. Christ on a crutch. Have you ever wondered that maybe, just maybe, you really ARE a pathetic, skanky little twit and I just happen to be the ONLY one who has the balls to point it out?

Or maybe I'm just a critical bitch with nothing better to do... hey, it's a free country, I can criticize anybody I want. Just so happens, I want to criticize you. You're an easy target. You make it SO easy for me to pick on you. Yes, you, I'm talking to you. The one who went snooping around my profile to get to this blog. Yes, you.

You're so predictable, it hurts.

Wait, I have to apologize to the other readers of this blog. I know it's become such a drag to read my posts lately but well... my blog. Easy enough to click out of it, right? But, after this post, I promise... I'll be less bitchy and more.... uhm... perky. Depends.

Ok, back to why I'm writing this post. It's just laughable how you think you KNOW everything there is to know about the guy you're all fighting over. Consider the source of your information. You get the stories from him, right? Has he not proven, time and again that he can lie his way out of anything? And yet, you believe him. No wonder you're such a pathetic mess.

Let me spell it out for you... he doesn't love you, he never did, he never will. He just does NOT know the concept of love. Just accept the fact that he's sweet when he wants something and an asshole when he's getting that something from someone else. You're not the problem, he is. Wake up!

You know why it's SO easy to hack you to pieces? It's because you're already IN pieces. He's done most of the work for me. I'm just adding a bit of spice to the whole thing. (By the way, lemme know if you can't understand some of this because, hey, we both know your grammar is just... ugh. I'll gladly post a tagalog version.)

And also, that twat you're calling "ate" who claims to be his "buddy" also slept with him. How's that for a friend? You haven't read the messages on his phone, have you? Too bad hun. I have. I was there when she WOULD NOT stop calling him at 2 freaking a.m.! I was there when he had to tell her to stop texting because he was with me. Seriously.

You're only 18 and you're already willing to give up what future you have just to hold on to him? Really? And you're calling ME the loser? (By the way, that other friend you have who has absolutely NOTHING to do with all the crap that's been going on, tell her that loser is spelled with one O. And that the next time she pokes her flat little nose into my business, I'm going to show her just how butt ugly she really is.)

Here's a piece of advice. Unwanted, sure but suck it up, this is MY blog. Move on darling. Move on. Build a bridge and get over it already. He's never going to change and I seriously think you've got a lot more to offer the world that just being his doormat.

And let's get this out of the way, shall we? I do NOT want to be your friend. I do NOT want to make peace with you and I will never be jealous of you. Not in this lifetime. Yes, I'm older than you. Yes, you're younger. That's about it. If you think you're prettier, that's your opinion. If you think you're smarter... think again.

I reserve the right to keep hammering at you until you can't take it or until you wise up and get the hell out of that pseudo-relationship you have and take better control of your life. Whichever comes first.

Oh and hey "buddy", what's with you and the word pretty? Just curious. I don't really need an answer. I mean, there are other quotes out there that you can use that does not have the word pretty in it. Just saying...

And cut. Ribbit.

The guy in 2B, he knows!

Dane Cook seriously makes me pee in my pants. A lot of people don't find him particularly funny but pffft. I'm a huge fan. So huge that if Dane ever came over to perform here, I'd sell BOTH my kidneys and one aunt just to buy tickets.

So funny. Tummy hurts.

Rapist Baseball Cards. Hilarious.

Cheerios.

Huh.... I am so predictable.

Granola.

Cass posted this a couple of days ago and I fell in love with it. If only I could have this tattooed on me somehow. Snork.

Secret blogs aren't meant for public viewing, hence the secrecy. So it's a lot disconcerting when someone from the past finds it, reads it and then comments on it on your other blog. Bollocks to that.

In other news, it looks like I'm in for a big change. Crossing my fingers and rubbing every rabbit's foot within reach. I can't wait.

Squishing and loving my orange macho ninja to death is about the only major happy thing that's been keeping me sane these past few days. I've yet to name them. They're getting antsy in their pantsy and I was told, in no uncertain terms that if I don't come up with a name for each of them soon, they're going to stage a ninja rally, the likes of which will hound me in my sleep.

I've been so busy lately, maybe tomorrow I'll rearrange my room and organize my books... to relax. Heh. I'm weird, I know.

It's All About The Moustache

I finally got my Macho Micro Ninjas and I love them. I love them deliriously. I love them more than I've loved all my ex-boyfriends combined.

After all the waiting and the extreme difficulty that I had to go through to get them from the post office, I can absolutely say that they are worth it.

First off, I had to pay the requisite 10% tax on top of the postal handling fee....

Wait, wait. I have to start at the beginning... Usually, anything sent to me from overseas, I pick up from the local post office, that's roughly 30 minutes away from where I live. Convenient, right? Yeah, I thought so too. So, okay, anyway... this time I had to go to the Domestic Postal Office where the Customs Office is. And they're FREAKING two hours away! Grrr.

I got there, tired and disheveled and sweaty. I walked about a block from the entrance to the Customs Office then I had to wait in line for roughly 30 minutes to get my crap sorted out. After that, I paid the postal handling fee then was told to sit down and wait to be called.

After another half hour, I heard my name called. They opened the package there and determined the 10% tax. Then much to my dismay, I had to wait another 30 minutes or so for them to check out my toys. I was near tears by the time I got the ninjas.

But... they are worth it. Very much so. I got three black ones and one orange one. I sound so 2nd grade. Hehe.

Rich, my studmuffin and toy daddy... I love you. I really do. You just made me the happiest woman-girl alive.

Guess what...

I'm in love.

With you.

A Cacophony of Crap.

Choose a song, pick a part of the song then use that as your shoutout... or scour the net for the most apropos quote you can find and THEN instead of mangling it by trying to put your own spin to it, translate it into Tagalog.

Brava!!

Ok. Got that out of my system.

Work is kicking my butt. I'm kicking back though. Kicking right back.

Oooh, and one more thing... you might want to check where your guy is and who he's with before you tell the whole freakin world that you're his one and only. Really. Shove a GPS dot up his ass so you'll know where he is before you go run your mouth. Pathetic.

Finally!

I dunno what it is about the 'puter I was using but for some reason, it won't let me use blogspot. Grrr. Ok, I'm on a different 'puter now so there's no stopping me. Not that I'll be posting anything earth shattering or profound.... can't have none of that. This blog is hell bent on staying as shallow as possible. Hehe.

Drumroll please...

My toys are on their way! Rich, a.k.a. the lovemuffin, bought me 4 of the fabulously awesome Mustachioed Ninjas! Yay!

The post office better get their act together. Any delay or screw-up will result in the total and complete annihilation of the entire Philippine Postal Service. So there.

Well...

I knew it.

You're What Now?

Ok, I will be the first one to say that my grammar isn't without flaws. I make mistakes all the time. But c'mon... when people read my stuff, they still GET what I've written. They don't have to go, "say what now?"

Recently, a friend sent me a screencap of a poem written by an 18 year old college girl who describes herself as clever, logical, ingenius and reads a lot.

Here's what she wrote:
i used to be a good girl but im not...
i wished to be the perfect one but i cant..
i thought they could understand me but they didnt..
i am just simple person...wishing to have peaceful life but i dont have a chance..

I am just sitting in one corner..and let my tears run down my face..thinking of all the burdens and hurts that i felt inside..
who have you who could tell me who i am?
who are they whose all criticism are all against me..
letting go of these feeling is not an easy thing,,

i have been so dumb for almost years but,
until now"I AM STILL LIVING IN MY OWN MISERY"
every people tends to be happy if they want to..
but however that person could be happy..
without seeing that they became emotionally damaged..
they want people knew that they happy even they are not..

I am just a girl wants to feel "im special"to my family,friends,and lovedones..
but im failed..in every game of my life..
i have never been won nor succeed..thats why i cant say "i can"..

After reading that, I went to the living room and kicked a few unsuspecting tables and chairs. I wanted to kick the genius who wrote the poem but that wouldn't help.

And then her friend went and took a quote and mangled it. Well, ok she paraphrased it but... I dunno, maybe I'm too strict or uptight but... I dunno, you decide.

Here's the quote:
"Pretty is something you're born with. But beautiful, that's an equal opportunity adjective."

And here's how she wrote it,:
"Pretty is something I'm born with but beautiful is an equal opportunity adjective."

Say what now?

Stepping Out.

Terrifying, innit?

Hooboy.

I have to get out of this country. Like, now. Or just some place he won't be able to bother me. Anywhere.

This is the shortest rant ever.

Erica, happy birthday sweetie! I love you!

The Taste of Crow

So... how does it feel to swallow everything you've ever said about him? You are unbelievable! Psychotic does not even begin to describe you. And to think I was beginning to admire your willpower. Only to find out that you didn't mean a single thing you said.

It was all just a game to you, wasn't it? Just a means to an end. Such deceit, such hypocrisy and all for a good-for-nothing dillhole whose only real talent is lying. Well, I guess you two really are made for each other. Enjoy it while it lasts. Enjoy the burden of always looking behind you to see who's out to get you.

If you think for a second that he's changed and that this time there will be no more lies then I guess stupid is as stupid does. Clearly, I've misjudged you. Never again.

Euphemisms, anyone?

rich: if everything you put between your lips and held was classified as being smoked...
rich: you've smoked a few ...
me: wanna come over and get smoked?

Who, me? Deprived?

Posted in livejournal. Seemed apt.

Her hands sparkle like alabaster against his dark skin. Glistening sweat stream down their bodies, vanishing like vapor. Her red lips explore him, guttural moans escaping from deep within his body. Trembling with need, he starts devouring her skin, biting softly, licking, subtly sucking. Gasps of undisguised pleasure; sly smiles, skillful fingers.

With infinite care he lays her down on the canopied bed. Her red hair spread like wildfire behind her. Her skin glistening with sweat, juices, desire. His body taut, delirious, wanting. With one primal thrust he takes her, their rhythms exact and lyrical. Their journey ending in a blaze of blinding light and delicious tremors.

Was I Asleep?

Uhm... apparently, I'm married now. I should really pay attention to what's going on around me.

Sláinte!

I think I was Irish in a previous life... how else can I explain the fascination and the bone-deep love and longing that I have for the whole bloody thing?

When I die and if I'm given the chance to come back to this world, I want to be born Irish and I want my name to be Teagan. So there. Heh.

A Reason to Live...

It's been a long while since I've bombarded you people with a toy post. Well... the long while has just ended. Be afraid, be very, very afraid.

I've just found THE newest toy that has wrapped its grubby little fingers around my heart. I've GOT to have it.

If you LOVE me and you want me to be happy, then click this and make me the happiest woman alive.

Sugar Momma

rich: will text you when I get into work
rich: love you too snuggleums



... makes me feel all warm and squishy.

Because I was Nagged...

I am fine. I'll be starting work soon. I ignored common sense so now I have two jobs. Go me.

I decided to stop pretending that I can write and just chuck everything I've ever written out the window. Fuck it.

I've a lot to learn...

And one thing I've only recently learned is that no matter what happens, I am undoubtedly addicted to all things plush.

Oh and also, apparently... my heart aches for one Rich.

Icks.

You are just so cute. And I absolutely love the new header. Give everyone a hug for me. Ciao bella!

Pop a few pills... sing a few tunes.

Miss an old friend. Rich... I miss you.

36 Going on 18

I had THE best time ever. This year's birthday just about obliterated all my other birthdays! Spent it with the best group of people... salt of the earth... hooligans with hearts... hehe. I love them to death.

We ate like food was about to be banned the next day. We laughed until our voices were hoarse. We took pictures to fill up 2 hard drives. We were foolish, free and full!

I can't wait until next year.

Oh and, before the day was over, I got THE sweetest kiss from the sweetest boy. No nookie but daaaamn that kiss was off the charts.

And the point is?

Ok... my train of thought just got derailed big time.

My birthday's coming up. Gah. I hate birthdays.

Err... wha?

I hate this. I've been away from my blog for AGES and during every one of those days that I couldn't post anything, I had a million and one things to say and now that I'm actually able to post, my mind goes unexpectedly blank.

Blank. Like my ex-boyfriend's expression whenever I talk to him about something slightly deeper than sex and sports. Blank! Me... the world's HUGEST motormouth... drawing a blank. I never cease to amaze me.

A lot of things have happened, most of them sad but the few and choice happy moments make up for the shittiness of it all. First off, my paternal grandmother passed away last Saturday and although we haven't really been close during the past year, it still hit me like a ton of bricks. As I sat there thinking of her, I realized that a lot of ME came from HER. Like how I HATE smiling. Sure, I laugh like a loon but asking me to smile for a picture is like asking me to run butt-nekkid through the streets. It's a no-way jose situation.

I got the big boobies from her side of the family too. Small frame, big jugs. Oh and bad back, while we're at it. She's an enabler too. Part of the reason why my dad was so screwed up when he was alive was how he always got away with crap and would sometimes even get rewarded for screwing up. Insane.

I also got the cursed nose from her side of the gene pool. Lemme tell you now, I am NOT happy about that. Not one bit. If there's one thing I would change about me in a heartbeat, it would be my nose. Like, now. Right this minute. No, this second. Snap! New nose! Yesss! Sigh.

Wait, lemme tell you about the good things too... I was able to see my cousins from my dad's side after God knows how long. It was nice to reconnect with them all.

And the best thing of all? My love, my eternal plaything, and my knight in shining armor, Richard sent me TOYS. I love him the most. Seriously.

Okay, for someone who has supposedly drawn a blank, I just yammered on and on, haven't I? I gotta go... places to see, people to kill. No, seriously.

I'm turning into Meredith. Ick.

Alexandra Trese

I discovered a new graphic novel and it is turning out to be one of those great finds... First there was ZsaZsa Zaturnnah and now there's Alexandra Trese.

I can't really find the right words to describe the experience of reading about Alexandra Trese's underworld adventures but daaaaaaaaaamn.... to say it was written and illustrated well would be an understatement.

Everything just jived. Made sense. The whole time I was reading it, I felt like a privileged "miron", like I was visiting a world only a few people are allowed access to.

It's going to be one of those books that will get TONS of free publicity from me. Heck, I already texted a couple of my friends about it.

It's never easy when you want it to be...

Lemme just list 'em all down... If you read this and want to help, I'll build you a statue and worship you from day till night.

Here goes:

I need a phone. Mine works maybe 2 days out of 7. I swear, some days it even gives me the finger. So yeah, I need one.

My kingdom for some Spanx. Ugh.

And flash drives and a laptop. I kid you not.

Take note... these are NOT wants. They are currently needs. NEEDS! So if you have nothing nice to say, zip it.

We're not in kansas anymore...

It feels good to be able to work again... so while waiting for other opportunities, I am as happy as a clam that once again, I've joined the rat race.

Gawd I hate this keyboard. It sticks. I have to retype everything. God forbid I make more than the acceptable number of grammatical errors..... que horror. I didn't make much sense there, did I? It's ok. I think my brain is only just starting to recover from the information overload extravaganza. Still didn't make sense, huh? Hehe. Leave it be. What's important is I make sense to myself.

So, there's this girl... we're friends I think... only she thinks she's putting one over me. Hah! Right. Like that's ever gonna happen. Women are such gullible creatures. Why they think they can trust a man to keep their secrets is beyond me.

Piece of advice... own up. To your emotions, to your REAL feelings, to your true intentions. There's nothing more pathetic than saying one thing and meaning another. Remember, if you're putting your integrity on the line because of some... some... guy, then you're no better off than the bitches you claim to abhor. Wait, is that my voice? Is that MY voice? Oh well. Hahaha. I love inside jokes.

So yeah, to recap... 'fess up girl. You're letting a guy turn you into another pathetic low level street hooker. Ick.

In other news, I miss Richard, I heart Durden and conflicted is now my default mindstate. So there.

Hello moon....

I'm alive. Just extremely tired.

Exhaustion is the new bliss.

Maybe because I've spent the last couple of months mostly on my ass... or maybe because I've literally closed myself off from the outside the world... whatever the reason is... sigh.

This last week has been ex-fuckin-hausting. 8 hours of dealing with people. People I don't particularly like. Girly girls and stupid trainers who insist on saying "that's UN-grammatically correct!" WTF? And he's supposed to be training ME! Where do they get these people?

I'm tired. I wanna go back to my little black world and just stay there.

Richard.... save me.

Blink 180°

I went from being a bum to being a Tier 2 Toshiba TSR in 0.02 seconds. Boy, nowadays you just can't stay jobless anymore.

Oh well. Rat race, here I come, ready or not.

Guilt trips and waaahwaaah moments.

Guilt has been steadily gnawing at my innards for the last week or so. I've done something I know I should not have done. Now I'm back on square one. Emotionally.

Cryptic I know but right now I'd rather just keep this horrendous secret all to myself.

There isn't a second that goes by that I haven't literally banged my head on every handy hard surface. What the hell was I thinking?? I know I'm smarter than this. I know I've gotten a whole lot better at putting myself first and up until now, my self-respect was intact.

Now I'm just... devastated.

Watch out Debbie Downer, I'm gonna give you a run for your money.... sigh.

IMPORTANT! READ ME!

Dear readers,

I have the ultimate request... If y'all could try and help me acquire this toy, I would be eternally grateful. Plus, I will be your slave for life. No kidding. Or you can have any future offspring. Or you can do with me as you wish. Whatever. I am shameless.

I'll sign any contract. We can have a blood compact. ANYTHING! Just get me this toy.

I have to have this toy. Or I'll die.

I've fallen and I can't get up.

A lot of things have happened. I'm not quite sure how I've managed to survive the past week or so. I'm not even sure I should even write about it but seeing as how I've written about almost everything, I thought I'd give it a shot.

Basically I've been trying to get well. The phrase "bored to death" is an apt description of my state these last few days. Lotsa things were off limits. I did get visitors. Expected and unexpected.

I am now thoroughly and irrevocably screwed up emotionally. Again! I feel like I've made about a few steps forward and slid a bajillion steps back. Damn you.... you... you... uhm... male uhm... yeah. Sigh.

My toys still haven't arrived. I have no idea where they are. Rotofugi says they've shipped 'em already but USPS says otherwise. Gah.

So, a nice round-up.... I'm physically sick, emotionally screwed and dangerously toy deprived.

Happiness Has Never Been This Gloomy

I'm about to drown in Gloomy Bear goodness. All thanks to Rich. Studmuffin-at-large, all around good guy and world's nicest sweetheart.

Now all I hafta do is wait for my stuff to get here. Patience is something I don't have enough of. This is going to be murder. Oy vey.