12 May 2008
Rantoms
There’s a reason why I never initiate conversations with some entities—and it’s because these beings have a hearts as brittle as their brains that they don’t sense not being liked when it bites their nipples.
---
The other day, in a jeep, a tall, dark guy who looked like a tall, dark smurf sat right across me… with his thighs spread. Wait, that’s an understatement: His torso practically occupied the entire bench. WIDE. For the rest of the trip. Talk about shrimp on a platter. I wasn’t sure what message the cosmos was trying to send, but definitely I’d go for better cartoons.
---
I get it that you’re a Disney-Hallmark native, I can’t help that lost cause, but what’s with “kiss your mom for me” on Mother’s Day? Are you crazy? Or plainly, icky sick? She doesn’t even know you exist, creep!
---
I knew it: the flick Iron Man was a big tease. But not Clobberfield tease; more like, American Idol-winner tease. You know, you think it’s huge but it really isn’t. At all. I’m on a break from hanging out with my be-muscled friends, but watching Robert Downey Jr. trotting around with those huge cysts all over his body—while Gwyneth Paltrow whispered her lines here and there—man, I didn’t know Tony Stark was a frustrated bouncer. Chills on the spine.
---
Speaking of AI. I’m standing my ground: David Archuleta must die. If the voting people will get rid of Syesha Mercado this week, then I’m okay with letting the airy David Cook win. But the US seems to burst with dumb colegialas-who-fall-for-closet-fags that my wish could remain just a wish… In that case, here’s another wish: rename the show, American Twink.
---
Acid rain has been pouring since 1852. Now you cancel weekend pot sessions because of a drizzle. What, we’re ashamed of our gremlinealogy now?
---
Adam Levine is steamy cute, alright. But somehow I just can’t forgive him for sounding too Chipmunk-y sometimes.
---
At work, when you’re asked for a “purpose” for a vacation leave and a “reason” for a sick leave, what do you, uh, say? For real. It’s bugging me.
---
So after 8 months “trying it” in the company’s marketing group, our try-hardest president has tasked me with his most idiotic of-utmost-priority to-do shit: put pictures on a Friendster profile background. I know. I’m too astounded to describe my feelings further. But I guess I have something new to say in my next job interview: that I finished AB Friendster.
---
The other day, in a jeep, a tall, dark guy who looked like a tall, dark smurf sat right across me… with his thighs spread. Wait, that’s an understatement: His torso practically occupied the entire bench. WIDE. For the rest of the trip. Talk about shrimp on a platter. I wasn’t sure what message the cosmos was trying to send, but definitely I’d go for better cartoons.
---
I get it that you’re a Disney-Hallmark native, I can’t help that lost cause, but what’s with “kiss your mom for me” on Mother’s Day? Are you crazy? Or plainly, icky sick? She doesn’t even know you exist, creep!
---
I knew it: the flick Iron Man was a big tease. But not Clobberfield tease; more like, American Idol-winner tease. You know, you think it’s huge but it really isn’t. At all. I’m on a break from hanging out with my be-muscled friends, but watching Robert Downey Jr. trotting around with those huge cysts all over his body—while Gwyneth Paltrow whispered her lines here and there—man, I didn’t know Tony Stark was a frustrated bouncer. Chills on the spine.
---
Speaking of AI. I’m standing my ground: David Archuleta must die. If the voting people will get rid of Syesha Mercado this week, then I’m okay with letting the airy David Cook win. But the US seems to burst with dumb colegialas-who-fall-for-closet-fags that my wish could remain just a wish… In that case, here’s another wish: rename the show, American Twink.
---
Acid rain has been pouring since 1852. Now you cancel weekend pot sessions because of a drizzle. What, we’re ashamed of our gremlinealogy now?
---
Adam Levine is steamy cute, alright. But somehow I just can’t forgive him for sounding too Chipmunk-y sometimes.
---
At work, when you’re asked for a “purpose” for a vacation leave and a “reason” for a sick leave, what do you, uh, say? For real. It’s bugging me.
---
So after 8 months “trying it” in the company’s marketing group, our try-hardest president has tasked me with his most idiotic of-utmost-priority to-do shit: put pictures on a Friendster profile background. I know. I’m too astounded to describe my feelings further. But I guess I have something new to say in my next job interview: that I finished AB Friendster.
i super missed your witty entries!! where the ef have you been? oh! nag-iipon ng rantoms. lol. joke lang..