Sunday, April 29, 2007

Trans-Fat and Decided

I've decided.

I will keep this layout.

I knew it. I knew it. I knew it.

This black layout really expresses my repressed and contumacious personality.

This one's for keeps.

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Somebody should really kill me by now. I mean, really. Mom bought a box of glazed doughnuts from Krispy Kreme yesterday. And I did the nastiest and filthiest thing you can ever do when you're on a strict diet.

I ate one. One original glazed doughnut just destroyed my humanity.

Let's see now. One original glazed doughnut has 200 calories, 100 calories from fat, and 4 grams of fucking trans-fat.

Let's see again. With that amount of calories and trans-fats, it seems that I could've eaten a quarter of white rice, and a glass of Coke.

But damn. That doughnut was heaven. Yum Yum.

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I knew it. There is a chemical you produce when you're in love. From what I've read in Cosmopolitan last night, there is this sort of chemical your body/brain exerts when you're high in love. This means that THAT chemical can be dangerous, because it can lead to your brain's misleading.

Being in love is like being addicted to drugs, as Ms. Stephanie Beltran said. You would have to do anything for your love, because your addicted. Your love is giving you the same love as my friend E here.

So, in conclusion, we don't need love from a person anymore. It's proven that weed and E can grow old with us. Weed and E would not cheat on us, nor would they play our emotions up. Weed and E will make us happy for the rest of our lives.

Weed and E can give the same love a lover can give you. But to my surprise, they can even give you much more intimacy.

I want to try Weed and E. I had enough of stupid players. Maybe they can give me the love that I've been searching for my whole life.

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I don't know what course I'm going to take up next year. Ugh. I thought I've decided on International Studies, but I don't really think I would be able to find work that fast. I don't want to end up in a Call Center and be someone really horny.

I'm itching to take up Civil Engineering, or Electronics and Communications Engineering. Mom won't let me. She says that these courses aren't practical.

Well, what course is?

No way I'm going to take up Nursing. I'd rather die than be a nurse. I want to be a doctor instead. And then I'm going to end up like Dr Gregory House or something. A mean, problem-solving machine.

Ugh. Course picking is so hard. It's like deciding to have sex or not to have sex or something.

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Saturday, April 28, 2007

Mac is Half-Dead

My MacBook's dead.

No, it's half-dead. And the only person that truly knows this is my dad, whom I've emailed hastily all the way through Poland just to save my baby. Oh yes. I just called that laptop my baby.

Ugh. Dad's no help. His PowerBook's battery was never drained.

Now how the hell did this happen?

Let's see now..I NEVER SHUT THE THING DOWN. I would always put it to sleep so I wouldn't begin from the start by opening it up again.

And it truly gave up last Wednesday night.

Looks like I need a new laptop after all.

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I was listening to The Morning Rush lately. Today's top 10 was all about those things to say to express your love to someone.

The top 2 really cracked me up.

"206 lang pala ang bones mo. Gusto mo dagdagan ko?"

Green jokes are fun. They can be really private that it's hard to tell if they are a joke.

Green jokes never fail to make my day.

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This is the last Friday of the month, and the last Friday of this summer that I would celebrate my freedom.

Friday of next week, I would be studying my ass off at Katipunan.

Sometimes it makes me wonder why I need to review for the CET's anyway.

Sometimes it makes me wonder why I'm even desperate to go to UP-Diliman anyway. I'm not much of a smart-ass. I just have a brain that spins off in an unknown angle and stops when I'm in love.

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I'm thinking of picking up the death stick again. All that smoke talk with my friend just gave way into Pepang Season again.

Now that I know what chemicals a cigarette is made of, I would just have to remove some of them that would be really hazardous to my health, like Nicotine or something. I don't want to end up like Dr. House, being addicted to Nicotine and all.

I read an article in a flirty-girly magazine that what I'm going through is perfectly normal and normal and normal.

Hinder to my mom's knowings, I went to a psychiatrist and burst out my feelings of suicide, drugs, alcohol, and cigarette. One thing's for sure. I want to try them all.

I don't really know what my problem is. I should be happy because all I want is given on a quick basis. I just found out that my IQ's a whopping 123. The only discrimination I have to go through is lookism in terms of body weight.

Maybe it's because nobody loves me. I mean, love love. Not brotherly or sisterly or motherly or fatherly or friendly love. But love love. A love that nobody, not even The Big Guy can give me.

Being agnostic is fun. You should try it. It makes you suicidal and stuff.

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Thanks to Charlene, Adolf Hitler's my current love and idol.

Adolf Hitler just proved that you need a high IQ in order to kill millions of people and devastate the world.

His IQ's 141.

Damn. That evil monster's smart.

Thursday, April 26, 2007

Nocturnal

My insomnia is getting worse every single day. I was used to sleeping late in the morning, like 5 am or so, but this time, that's not the case.

I literally and figuratively can't sleep. I mean, really. Not that I'm bragging, but the diameter of the dark circles of my eyes are getting really bigger. In fact, if you have time, you can get the length of the sector, which is that darker part, and get the whole area of the dark circle.

Ah, the wonders of Geometry. I hate it.

I get to sleep for only a couple of minutes, then I would wake up with my eyes looking like a she-male's reproductive organ.

Ugh. Squinting's bad. It would make your eyes look like your vagina. If you have it, that is.

Let's see. My astigmatism is also getting worse. My "lose some weight" project is also getting worse. My body's getting worse. And what's more?

My Screw-My-Birthday-Yeah-Forget -About-It-I-Don't-Like-Birthdays-Anyways-Would-It-Make-A-Difference-On-Mine-If-I-Care
-About-It Birthday.

Dad raised the question yesterday.

You know. The same, old question that parents or friends or anyone for that matter asks you when your birthday is just around the corner, spooking things up.

"What do you want for your birthday?"

Remember that time when I said to him that I want to die on my birthday? Well I only did that because dying on your birthday is the cutest thing ever. I mean, that would be so special. Your death anniversary's on your birthday? Wow. That's uber-cool, if you ask me.

Again, I told him that I don't want anything for my birthday. I got everything I wanted. MacBook 2.0 GHz, Snatch-Unworthy Cellphone, PSP, iPod Video, LinkSys router...What could I ask for? I'm feeling like Prince Charming on Cinderella already.

See, the most loserriffic thing you can ever ask for your birthday is a Physics textbook. I did that, and I'm studying it now. Oh Goody.

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Anybody stuck on batch 1, 2, 3, and 4 of Weffriddles?

Anybody stuck on Chapters 1-2 of Grand Theft Auto Vice City Stories?

Anybody stuck on his/her home?

I've got spoilers for yah. Yah-dee-yaaaha.


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El Weirdo April's ending already. And where the hell is the layout of this blog?

Well, ImageReady got it all wrong. Blame him, not me.

The thing optimized the layout by itself WITHOUT my supervision. It's like seeing your child eating his/her poop without asking you if you want any.

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Jumpstart with Igi G. and Franchesca's word of the day today is circumspect.

Circumspect means cautious/careful.

I want to be more circumspect in choosing friends.

Awkward.

What a spoiler to my dilemma.
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Tuesday, April 24, 2007

What What (In The Butt)




This video really made my day. As in really. I was so bummed out when I woke up this afternoon. I almost kicked Sweetie, our great shih tzu pet, down the stairs. Someone really pissed me off last night. And guess what, I didn't like it. What a surprise.

Go read the comments on this video on YouTube. It's really hilarious. Someone even said the video gave him AIDS. How pathetic. I bet that person already HAS AIDS. So unrealistic, so pathetic.

-------------------------------

I'm afraid I'll meet new friends next week.

GAH! Review classes. Next Week. Wednesday. Never-Ending Algebra.

I thought that my classmates in the review classes are all Paulinians, or moreover, my schoolmates. But, ugh, there are also other smurfs from other schools. Not that I'm complaining, but..you know. My Asperger's Syndrome might trigger a deadly attack again.

I've grown so accustomed in being with my friends. Or those people I would see in the corridors of my school. And I'm not used to seeing other people in the same classroom with me. I'll probably suffocate or something. It's either I go to those review classes, or suffer the consequences of studying in a non-existent university.

Truth is, Mariella's right about those review centers. They're just confidence-boosters. Anybody can probably ace that test if they're confident enough. Not overconfident, (remember my Geometry exam? AHH! The horror.) or not confident. Just plain, old, confident.

I guess I'm not confident enough. No, really. This blog maybe full of confident shiznits, but I'm squirming in real life.

Squirming? What the..? Squirming are for sissy b*tches!

I'm not a female dog. Just in case.

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"I wish I enrolled in AHEAD instead"

Now I wish I DIDN'T thought of this one. Ever. It just makes me realize how selfish I can get. How whimsy-flimsy I can be.

Expert Guides really wasn't my first choice. Actually, it's on the last slot. Dad told me I'll be reviewing in AHEAD because the probability of me passing on all the universities I would take a test on is higher. Big Deal. I just said whatever, and totally agreed upon it.

"When you feel all alone, it's a lie" (Sorry. Barbie Almalbis is singing at the background. She's wearing a gown, and she's doing a great job pissing my ass off.)

But when I later learned that Monica can't be on the same review center as I was, I became very condescended of myself.

Moreover, look on the bright side. I get to save 7,000 and I get two of these....


Linksys Wireless-G Broadband Router! Yess! Beat that, Starbucks and Robinson's Galleria! Wi-Fi hotspot my butt! My room is definitely and ultimately and conclusively the hottest Wi-fi hotspot on the dot. Ahh, the joys of wireless fidelity. There would be a time when everything would be wireless in my room because of the 2 powerhouse routers.

I bet even my bra would be wireless. Not that I'm complaining or anything. In fact, I'm wearing a bra with an under wire right now. I feel like Dr. Lisa Cuddy on that 'Lines in The Sand' episode in the 3rd season of House M.D..."It's an underwireee!"

I'm not really supposed to say that. But then again, what is not supposed to say these days?

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I'm surprised to know that Jerika Arcadio has been reading this cow manure. Heck, I'm even surprised someone is reading this. I should put back that stupid and old BlogPatrol counter.

jerika.ü arcadio (4/23/2007 paragas 15:34): pnong gets? haha. putek ka, galing mo mgenglish!]
lorainne paragas (4/23/2007 paragas 15:34): mag-english saan?
jerika.ü arcadio (4/23/2007 paragas 15:35): sa blog mo
lorainne paragas (4/23/2007 paragas 15:35): salamat. wala. na-gets ko lang talaga siya. yun lang. sige bye

That is how you should talk to your classmate who has been good to you in your Junior year.

Well, thank you again.

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Is there something with love that makes you laugh a lot? Or am I just tad to crazy and psychotic?

Lover Boy (or so he would be named forever and ever in this blog) did the most mellifluous thing ever, which was to make me a starting layout for my blog.

"I created this one for you.." he said.
"Um. Ok. Thanks." I said
"Are you going to use it?" he asked.
"I don't know yet. I think I have to edit the filter you made, and the meta tags just got screwed..and it takes a dec-"
"Just say you won't use it. It's alright. I'll make you a better one. For votre anniversaire." he interrupted.
"You don't have to." I said before he would interrupt the hell out of me again.
"I want to." he said, then off to work he got.

See, Lover Boy is a friend. Not a quasi-friend, but a close friend of mine whom I've met in a nice way which I'm not going to say because you might use it to revile me or something.

I asked everyone what to do to break a boy's heart. But I guess Pj's idea is the only archetype that really worked.

He's already in Estados Unidos, but he said that he'll be waiting for me there. I told him that I want to study in University of California, San Diego. He said he wants to do the same thing.

But I guess I don't deserve to love and be happy. Look what the hell Bush just made. No more petitions. Goodbye mes rêves américains. :C

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And before I end this hogwash blog entry, I must say that John Locke was right about the happiness.

"It is a natural law that we have the right to pursue our own happiness"

Ergo, we don't have our own happiness. Happiness is something we can only pursue, but not have. It is only what we feel.

So I can now conclude to myself that I should stop searching for it. It's never going to come anyway.

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EVER.

Monday, April 23, 2007

April. Ape-real. Apeereel. Or Just Plain April

God. That new song by Maroon 5 is so stuck on me. The title is Make Me Wonder. And God, all of you, literally ALL OF YOU should add Adam Levine to your "Should Marry" list. The guy is scorching hot, and I know what hot really is. I'm living in Manila, dumbasses.

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" Sometimes the best gift is the gift of never seeing you again."
-Dr. Gregory House

Hear Ye, Hear Ye.

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"
You talk to God, you're religious. God talks to you, you're psychotic."
-Dr. Gregory House

Is House my long-lost soul mate, or what?

---------------------

There is something weird with April. April, as in the 4th month of every year. April, as in where Aries ends and Taurus starts. April, as in April Fool's day. April. April.

There really is something weird with April.

ZING!

I get it. It sounds boring as May. April and May sounds really boring.

It's unexplainable. You have to get that by now.

I hate boredom.

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I can't accept the fact that it's raining really hard on some regions of this stinky country. I have friends from other regions asking me to hug them because it's like snowing below there. Like hell I can. The only thing I can do is to kick their asses.

After gym last Wierdo Friday, I have to commute my way back into home because Mom can't fetch me. So, as always, I would go to the opposite side of the Wynsum Building and hail a cab. But something really is bizzare on that day. Instead of hailing a cab, I just stared upwards into the sky. I kinda felt that the world I'm in is rotating, and all I wanna do is just feel it.

You can tell I enjoyed feeling the rotation.

It lasted for a good 15 minutes.

Psychotic? NOT. God is obviously not talking to me.

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Sudoku is killing me. It's all I've been doing for the last 24 hours. I've bought 2 more issues of Sudoku Samurai when we went to Shopwise Libis last night to buy some boneless chicken shitznits. And I've finished the first issue already. Without looking at the solution. I swear I didn't look. You can tell I did not. I really swear I didn't. Promise.

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[EDIT] I edited the font of this one for some obvious reasons. Go get a life to know what the hell it is.


Sunday, April 22, 2007

Cupid Chokehold.

Don't be surprised if I'm posting much more frequently nowadays. What could be the answer? Well for one, I'm bored, and I'm doing a blog marathon.

As of now, bloggy, this post is my 91st. Hooray. 9 more and we really are going to take over the world. But I'm not going to rush things up. I'm going to make sure that the 100th post would reside on my birthday, which is a month from yesterday. That sure would rock their heads off.

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Yesterday was a very, very, very, very, very, and overly weird day. I don't know if it's because of the fact that I arrived at the gym 3 hours late than my usual routine, which is at 8 am, or the fact that I'm overly nervous that I might see the trainer again.

I sure wasn't in the mood to workout yesterday. The hell. I didn't work out for 3 consecutive weeks. That's what stubborn turds like me gets. Thank God for Jay Leno. If The Tonight Show wasn't on that TV where my favorite treadmill spot is, I would've definitely dozed off in the lounge in an instant.

And so, when Tobey Maguire started praising the Skank Spiderwoman in the audience, I saw some familiar faces in front of me. And I said to myself, "What the hell are they doing here?". Damn, those people suckity suck. Of all Fitness First branches they should go, why (oh God, why) the Ortigas branch? This is my sanctuary already, and they really ruined it BIG TIME.

It's not my fault that I have Asperger's Syndrome, and I'm socially incapable of just saying hi to those skanks.

After that, I took a bath, and while I'm off to towelling my hair till it dries itself, these Koreans start shizniting my way up. While I'm reminded of the recent Virginia Tech murder, they go and start throwing their panties off. Oh God. It's literally thrown off. The panties, I mean. One was even on top of my bag. ON MY BAG. God, she didn't even saw that her wet panties is on my bag when she went for shower. Damn. I have to shake off my bag just for that thing to go off. Uugh.

Then on the way to the elevator, I saw the trainer on his way to the locker room. See, the stupidest thing you can do at that moment is walk really fast so he couldn't get through you. And guess what, I did the stupidest thing ever. Is that great, or what?

After sneaking pass through the trainer, I pushed the button on the wall for the elevator to come and rescue me. Waited for eternity,..then *ting* goes that irritating and crappy elevator sound. I go in, and another poser did.

Let's just say that WE GOT STUCK IN THE ELEVATOR FOR 1.5 HOURS. I'm not going to elaborate it more.

Christ, what a weird day.

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The cupid got me in the chokehold again. And it wasn't oh-so nice.

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I met a new friend today. His name is P.J. Well, whatever. If ever you're reading this now, I just want to say that I really like your voice. It sounds so Disc Jockey-y. Like Chico Garcia from The Morning Rush. I think Chico's gay.

Friday, April 20, 2007

Wouldn't It Be Nice?

Wouldn't it be nice if:

1. I stop blogging, because nobody's reading and putting comments on everything I blab about?
2. Literally and figuratively, stop eating anything?
3. I'm like everybody else, normal-sized and cringes over her social life?
4. I'm not fat?
5. I'm smart and not a smart-ass?
6. I can have smaller thighs?
7. I can wear skinny jeans?
8. I can wear shorts?
9. I can wear skirts?
10. I would stop blabbing how people can be so smart and how I can be so dumb just because I can't go past through level 54.3 of Weffriddles?
11. I die?
12. I would sell all my gadgets or just give 'em off to the Philippine version of the Salvation Army?
13. I would have a rich and cool and good and nice and really really good and really really nice social life?
14. I can have a crush besides my swimming coach and my personal trainer?
15. I would stop getting so nervous about my last high school year?
16. I would perhaps live my last high school year?
17. I would pass UPCAT and study Civil Engineering or History like my busmate did?
18. I wouldn't think Boracay is too overrated and is becoming a very cheap image?
19. I would stop being too selfish?
20. I would stop being too sarcastic?
21. I would stop taking over people's lives just because mine is a living hell?
22. I would stop pretending to be someone else?
23. I would, perhaps, show the real me?
24. People would accept your mistakes?
25. People would be more realistic?
26. PGMA steps down FINALLY?
27. We would all know why the hell Campbell died?
28. Philippines would stop being such a Third World country?
29. We can all just pretend to be dumb?
30. I would have somebody to love...again?
31. I would stop rasing questions?

Nah. That wouldn't be really nice. Unreality is not nice. Things now are good the way they are.

See, if I change any of my bad traits above to something that would be nice to all people, then that wouldn't be me.

Thanks to Dr. Gregory House M.D. and Dr. Chase, I'm suicidal no more. *smiles contently*

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Remember The Holy Grail ? Oh yes. My swimming coach I actually had a crush on last year.

Mayday! Mayday!

He's back. And no, not with a sexy back.

Monica was actually the first one to get to see him the first time this year. But nevertheless, I wasn't far as amused.

Let's review the reasons WHY.

Number one on the list, HE WAS THE REASON WHY I LOST IN THAT STUPID COMPETITION. My body's in good condition, and God, I've trained for 2 weeks restlessly! No way it's going to be MY fault.

Number two, HE MADE ME LOOK CHEAP. By falling for him, I guess.

Number three, I DON'T REALLY KNOW WHY I HATE HIM SO MUCH. That's what dumb people like me who fall for swimming coaches gets, I guess.

I saw him lately when Monica and I went to the clubhouse to wait for my mom to fetch us to go to our review center. What's new? His hair follicles on his head existed, the mole seems to be lost somewhere, and he's just a lifeguard now, not the goody-goody ol' macho-papa swimming coach that he was last year.

I hate the fact that I'm ignoring him just because he....did something wrong last year. LAST YEAR is the big word here. I can't forgive the guy and forget all of it. Well, that's the irony of everything.

He muttered hi, I ignored him.

The trainer said hi, I replied.

That's what papansin people gets. Die! Die! Die!

Monday, April 09, 2007

Never-Ending Psycho Problems

Note to self:

NEVER EVER MAKE FRIENDS WITH SOMEONE WHOM YOU'VE JUST MET THROUGH
SHORT MESSAGE SERVICE (SMS). GOD IT SUCKS.

It sucks more than knowing how 'pa-cool' your dad is getting everyday by spelling 'cool' as 'kewl'. How Skiboy will that be. Okay, okay, gobbledygook. But whatever your opinion would be on the upper-cased header and hard starter, I don't care. And no, I 'm not XXX's new asset.

It suckity suck like ass. One minute the person's friends with you, another minute he's not, and for another minute he's unbearable. That's like 3 minutes of hell. Divine Comedy in a box, ain't it?

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Someone. Must. Punish. Me. I've totally eaten like, a thousand calories yesterday and the other night. I'm losing it. Oh hell yeah I'm losing it.

I was probably shaken by the fact that crash dieting all ends to a yo-yo effect. In other words, if I lose fat today, I would definitely have it back tomorrow. Or worse - later.

And so, I'm eating. Not a good news, but I don't really want to gain all that weight I was able to lose this week. I don't know how to do that, but one thing's for sure. Our neighbor should stop selling Halo-Halo to an affordable price of 15 pesos. Crapity. And I'll probably cough out my brain and lungs later. Damn those crunchy pinipigs!

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I can't wait to have my ticket out of this God-forsaken country. I hate my school, NOW I hate my country. How patriotic.

I mean, is there even a reason to like this ill and rotten land? Nothing, I tell you. I don't get it why we even had to have elections on May if democracy clearly left the country since the Marcos' regime.

It's all their fault why I can't get to America on a quicker basis. We're all wasting our minds here while we can all study and be smarter and be richer in other countries. It's too late to reform it; everything is just crapped up.

Is being a Filipino a benefit? Nah, don't think so. The crappiness our government is doing is making foreigners believe that we're all cheaters. Our reputation is merely ruined by the fact that they are enjoying themselves there in the palace while there are people crying and asking for money in a daily noontime show. It all just proves that..I dunno...They suck? Oh no, that's not to much. They suckity suck.

I wish my dad could read this. Dad, I want to go and live to any European country for my birthday.

So what if any of you patriots and loyalists read this? I bet you couldn't agree more.


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As of now, I've re-read all of my books. As in book-books, not textbooks. Just leave 'em all in the dust.

Anyways, I've come to a hasty understatement. I. Don't. Have. Enough. Good. Things. To. Write. In. My. College. Application.

Like for example, an extra-curricular activity. Do I have any? None. Nien. Na-da.

Do I write for the school paper? Nope. I wish I have enough guts to.

Have I been an officer? Yes, but I think being a Property Custodian isn't really all that good.

Well, good luck to me. See you guys in Ateneo. I'll be studyiung in Pamantasan. No offense, but my parents are surely expecting more.

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I have a new celebrity crush.

HUGH GRANT.

Blame Music and Lyrics. His tight pants and sexy moves are just too hot to handle. And the British accent! Oh God, I just want to hump him like a horny dog.

Of course, that wouldn't be more than impossible, because my thighs weigh more than him probably.

But oh men, I bet Drew Barrymore didn't ask for her paycheck on the movie. I mean, she slept with the guy under his piano. Isn't that enough? I'm gonna add that to my "Things to do before I die" list. Oh yessir I can see it now..."Sleep with Hugh Grant..Literally and Figuratively." Oooh yummy. Har-dee-har.

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Friday, April 06, 2007

Yah-dee-Yah-Yah

I don't know why I'm in the mood to write. It's either Jessica Darling's fault, or I'm just tad too happy to not to. Why shouldn't I, anyway?

This holy week was really something...something really weird. For the first 3 holy days, I would always lie on the bed or on a couch or just somewhere with a flat surface to think about my purpose in life. I would raise these inevitable but bogus questions on my own, and it's answered by a process called "suicide attempt".

Some questions are:

1. Why are we living?
2. Does God really exist?
3. If so, where is He? I can't seem to find Him somewhere.
4. Is there even a reason to NOT to die? Isn't it that if we die, we would just eventually go somewhere and live again?
5. Why wouldn't we all just die, anyway?

I was manually channel surfing the other day when I came across this superficial and religious channel.

"It's easy to love God and love life when your problems seems to surpass you. But how about when your life seems to be a living curse? Would you still love God?"

I, for one, currently do not have 'real problems' - as my mom puts it. The only problem that I have is my weight, and how to look good not in the eyes of those beholders, but unto the eyes if God.

I caught 'The Island" on HBO last night. And it probably helped me to conclude that my inner human curiosity and boredom is making me try to kill myself. I'm a cat, and so I will be until that faithful day that I would finally die.

It was a great surprise that a great wave of miracle came my way yesterday. Let me tell you the whole story.

If you have been reading my blog last year, you would know that we did some station of the cross-ing last year. And so, we also did that yesterday. But this time, I know better than to rant about how many churches we should go in order to gain...I don't know. Enlightenment probably.

And guess what, after 5 months of doubting God and doubting my faith and doubting everything, it all ended with just a simple prayer to 14 churches.

Although there is no way that I would quit this slow death I'm going through, I would definitely be back on the track in kissing God's holy ass.

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For some reason, my upcoming birthday does not excite me.

How about now?
No.
Now?
No.
Nu?
Nr.
Maintenant?
Non.
Jetzt?
Nien.
Ora?
Seriamente, No.

Dad asked me the other day what I want for my birthday. I was about to say 'death', but that would just give him an impression that I'm turning pre-morbid and emo at the same time.

I was about to measure how long my eye bags are when Derek the dog sent me a message so grotesque. He was, indeed, asking my big, fat, dirty, and smelly hand in marriage. I replied, "R U Serious?" How text-nationed. Frankly, he said yes. And quite frankly, I replied, "Oh. Yeah well I'll chop it off for you." I don't even know when I got my sense of humor back. Turns out everyone likes joking about hands and marriages now.

Derek is a quasifriend of mine I met in an elevator on the way to the gym. I don't want to elaborate much about that for someone might be reading this entry and blab it to any of my relatives. "Oh! The horrors of meeting someone in an elevator! Shame, shame, shame!" I can imagine everyone's capillaries and veins bursting in my face now.

So, what's he got to do with my birthday dilemma? I don't even have an idea. All I know is that I want to skip the 20th of May. I wish God would do that, you know? Like, suck your life out and give you a tour of what would happen to you after death on your 16th birthday. How happy would that be.

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Sometime I wish I could be Jessica Darling.

I'll elaborate later.

Wednesday, April 04, 2007

Starving

I know, I know. The blog design sucks like Care Bears on hell. But who are you to blame me anyway? Panic! At The Disco died like, a year ago? And I'm off to designing a new one again.

Ever since my personal trainer 'trained' me, I had created this BIG furball of emotions. I know I had severe weight issues back then. but heck, this is really killing me this time.

I know that there would be only 1 solution to my midnight bawlings and rants about how big I am and how the others doesn't have to think how big they are and have to run 2 hours on the treadmill just to lose a pound.

CRASH DIET.

I started it last Friday. Since then, I haven't eaten 'real food'. Now I understand why Lindsay Lohan anorex-ized herself. Now I truly understand Nicole Richie's eating disorder. And now my friend Ana is knocking at the door.

I started visiting pro-ana/pro-anorexia websites last Saturday for encouragement. And since I have the full-right to be anorexic since I'm morbidly obese anyway, I chose to take crash dieting to the highest level. My diet is called 360. It means that I can only eat a maximum number of 360 calories a day. For example, for today, I can only eat 2 glasses of Nai Cha tea and 2 crackers.
A glass of the tea is already 110 calories. A cracker is a full 70 calorie thing. Just do the math.

It was really a bad idea to go to GreenHills yesterday. Guess what, I bawled at the car again after seeing those girls with normal body shapes who can dress up all they want. And then I realized, why am I even living this stupid life anyway? We can all just get die and live in harmony in hell.

I am now experiencing slow death. I'm starving myself just so everybody can appreciate me. I know for a fact that you can't please everybody, but guess what. I also can't please myself.

The possibility of me to die in this diet is merely .001%. I'm big anyway, as if I'll run out of food.

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3500 calories = 1 lbs.

58.20 hours on the treadmil on 6 km/h speed = 1 lbs.

Being fat sucks.