04 November 2008
Rantoms: Plus 1
Somebody sent me a "Which angel are you? request" in Facebook. I haven't done anything to it yet but it significantly intrigues me. I dunno, do tell me, was I supposed to laugh?
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Local news reporters seriously need a new subject to tackle, really really really, especially with showbiz personalities. "TV and print supermodel shares hard experiences as family breadwinner." Like the rest of creation have it easy while she on the other hand needs to wear designer clothes and pout to earn money. To buy make-up and go to it's-not-Bora-it's-Boracay. Okay. How about this. "Overworked, underpaid mutt shares insanely unthinkable times striving not to roll eyes at headlines like that." Or maybe, just maybe, "Crap."
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Why do we talk that way? Like we need a couple more sentences to clear our point. Look, there it is: "like!" How come we always try to define stuff by like-ning them to other things? I'm not complaining, because I also do it all the time. "You irritate me. Like, I get itchy all over by the mere sight of you. Like, I wanna barf on your face if you don't leave now." It's just weird, that we cannot seem to be sure of things outside the convenience of back-ups of sorts, like we are to be basically doubted if we don't offer an alternate description, like we always need second proofs to everything... And there it is again! Crazy. Is this century that cluttered already? Or is nothing simply, like, original, anymore?
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Isn't it pathetic that my favorite Holidays song is "Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas?" I dunno. Its melody always calms me down, especially when I'm about to show my heels up-close to another entity trying my nerves. There's even this weird version that would surely fit well in a bed scene for Scorpio Nights X... Anyway, I do that every time, actually, listening to those songs to pacify my hopeless barbaric nature, keeping me away from prison. Yes I'm a dwarf, uneducated bull. Too bad an iPod can only run for so long while the populations of dimwits biking on sidewalks and worms mistaking the moviehouse for a confessional keep growing by the second.
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I just finished Twilight and I never felt more pressured my entire life. I wanted to experience the book first before seeing my ex Robert Pattinson's movie version. The novel is romantic, alright, nostalgic even. But up until now it's still only the classic love story that should never stay long in the hands of future colegialas-beyond-repair: A needy slut and a smug, what did Stephenie Meyer call it, "forgotten Adonis." But I think I will love Alice Cullen in the future.
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Then I read in a magazine that our bodies naturally gain a pound each year. More than obesity, botany sent chills down my spine: So we're actually like trees, annually gaining a ring over the old wood? Ohmygoodness what about my jeans!
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Red alert: the "metrosexual" virus is evolving into a stronger strain and more and more confused souls are now posting nude, be-muscled photos in Friendster. I mean, What. The. Apparently, assuming the form of the Incredible Hulk—plus emulating the look of an angry, possessed Linda Blair, squinting so hard it almost hurts the beholder's nose; think Triple H pouting a la Tyra Banks—provides a more appealing cover-up for all the inner Pride. And a better chance to snag a weekly one-night stand. With a hyperacidic Dave Batista grinning like Angelina Jolie. To each his own, forever, but come on, gUys, it's really very hard to watch... and keep puking.
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All I know, is that I'm a headturner. I turn heads away. Seriously. Even random commuters' kids stare at me on the streets and I could read the curiosity in their eyes as if they were desperately trying to understand how frogs could be so big. What saddened me more, honestly, is that repulsive as I may be nobody still invited me to their costume party this Halloween when I could have saved lots on the outfit! As in, zero-expense... well maybe except cab fare. Darn.
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Fab hi's to Vera, GrannyMomCha, Bachlightyear, Glenn, Sweet Taray, Brownman Cat, Señor Helj, Splice, Jojitah and everybody else who's kept wasting time visiting this space despite the void. THANK YOU and... here I am. :]
---
Local news reporters seriously need a new subject to tackle, really really really, especially with showbiz personalities. "TV and print supermodel shares hard experiences as family breadwinner." Like the rest of creation have it easy while she on the other hand needs to wear designer clothes and pout to earn money. To buy make-up and go to it's-not-Bora-it's-Boracay. Okay. How about this. "Overworked, underpaid mutt shares insanely unthinkable times striving not to roll eyes at headlines like that." Or maybe, just maybe, "Crap."
---
Why do we talk that way? Like we need a couple more sentences to clear our point. Look, there it is: "like!" How come we always try to define stuff by like-ning them to other things? I'm not complaining, because I also do it all the time. "You irritate me. Like, I get itchy all over by the mere sight of you. Like, I wanna barf on your face if you don't leave now." It's just weird, that we cannot seem to be sure of things outside the convenience of back-ups of sorts, like we are to be basically doubted if we don't offer an alternate description, like we always need second proofs to everything... And there it is again! Crazy. Is this century that cluttered already? Or is nothing simply, like, original, anymore?
---
Isn't it pathetic that my favorite Holidays song is "Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas?" I dunno. Its melody always calms me down, especially when I'm about to show my heels up-close to another entity trying my nerves. There's even this weird version that would surely fit well in a bed scene for Scorpio Nights X... Anyway, I do that every time, actually, listening to those songs to pacify my hopeless barbaric nature, keeping me away from prison. Yes I'm a dwarf, uneducated bull. Too bad an iPod can only run for so long while the populations of dimwits biking on sidewalks and worms mistaking the moviehouse for a confessional keep growing by the second.
---
I just finished Twilight and I never felt more pressured my entire life. I wanted to experience the book first before seeing my ex Robert Pattinson's movie version. The novel is romantic, alright, nostalgic even. But up until now it's still only the classic love story that should never stay long in the hands of future colegialas-beyond-repair: A needy slut and a smug, what did Stephenie Meyer call it, "forgotten Adonis." But I think I will love Alice Cullen in the future.
---
Then I read in a magazine that our bodies naturally gain a pound each year. More than obesity, botany sent chills down my spine: So we're actually like trees, annually gaining a ring over the old wood? Ohmygoodness what about my jeans!
---
Red alert: the "metrosexual" virus is evolving into a stronger strain and more and more confused souls are now posting nude, be-muscled photos in Friendster. I mean, What. The. Apparently, assuming the form of the Incredible Hulk—plus emulating the look of an angry, possessed Linda Blair, squinting so hard it almost hurts the beholder's nose; think Triple H pouting a la Tyra Banks—provides a more appealing cover-up for all the inner Pride. And a better chance to snag a weekly one-night stand. With a hyperacidic Dave Batista grinning like Angelina Jolie. To each his own, forever, but come on, gUys, it's really very hard to watch... and keep puking.
---
All I know, is that I'm a headturner. I turn heads away. Seriously. Even random commuters' kids stare at me on the streets and I could read the curiosity in their eyes as if they were desperately trying to understand how frogs could be so big. What saddened me more, honestly, is that repulsive as I may be nobody still invited me to their costume party this Halloween when I could have saved lots on the outfit! As in, zero-expense... well maybe except cab fare. Darn.
---
Fab hi's to Vera, GrannyMomCha, Bachlightyear, Glenn, Sweet Taray, Brownman Cat, Señor Helj, Splice, Jojitah and everybody else who's kept wasting time visiting this space despite the void. THANK YOU and... here I am. :]
"naipon."