Thursday, November 29, 2007

30 Minutes of Fame

Alright. Make that an hour and five minutes. But you have to add the part where I danced that notorious papaya dance Mr. Manzano have made famous through his game show. God. That literary portal made me realize that my body is hungry for some groovin'. Damn.

We presented that 5-minute skit for 7 times. I thought all of it was so fucking good. Congratulations to my classmates, especially the props team who worked haphazardly every single minute. We deserve a perfect score for this one. We all do. Or maybe because I'm hardcorely egotistical about our literary portal. 4-2 deserves a perfect score, I deserve to die ghastly.

Now let's talk about that
el estúpido uno contra cincuenta game we had at school. Sure. Yesterday was indeed a happy day. I got a high GSA, as indicated by my NCAE result. We weren't able to have that Physics quiz about Mr. Newton's laws because our batch is the audience for the juniors' speech choir. And yeah, due to unexpected predicaments, yours truly was picked as that lucky person to complete the panel who will help the players who will serve as the 'one', hence the name.

So maybe I was a bit unfair. Or I don't know, maybe REALLY unfair. Nobody voted for me. I was just...picked. I realized a while ago how that time when I was laughing my ass out with the two other DOH's turned out to be the most excruciating time of my life (more chastening than that time when I was having hard time excreting my shit out, because I ate 2 packs of Happy peanuts in one seating. With my celebratory beer, of course.). My conscience is still bugging me right now, actually. Add my menstrual cramps, and ahh! Now I give you a preview of hell.

I'm sorry for being so..conceited.

I will never ever ever join academic contests or game shows again. Dumbasses just can't procure any fame.

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I think I'm going to fail Physics. Not that I'm showing my humble side after my day-long display of complete arrogance, but because as of this writing, I haven't hustled a perfect-scored quiz.

I hate motions.

Can we go back to electrostatics again? I miss George Ohm, and his cute omega symbol. I miss drawing schematic diagrams of circuits. I miss talking about electric potential energy.

I miss getting unbelievably high quiz scores. I remember getting an astonishing 19 over 15 in that last quiz in Physics last quarter. And with that, 10 points was added to my previous grade in my report card. Woah. I'm still far-fetched right now.

And now, I can't even perfect a single quiz.

Note to self:
Lorainne, you are not losing it. Someone is just distracting you, really. Maybe it's your alter ego. Or your manic depression. Whatever that stupid distraction is, remember to wash your undergarments. Your mom will be all hysterical again if you don't.

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NCAE result time.

I'm glad that I made the right choice in choosing my course for my tertiary education. In my occupational field of interest, it clearly showed that I have the capability (and hots, evidently) for investigative (physicists, physicians, analyst, blah blah), and for mechanical (engineering, male jobs. The latter part is not a green joke or whatsoever, pervert. I am so talking to myself right now.)

I destroyed my stupid dream of becoming a doctor, more specifically a damn neurologist, a few months ago when I learned that I will have another brother. Ugh. Watching House MD makes me want to pursue Biology as my premed course, and go to that new Ateneo med school near The Medical City after. Yeah, what a stupid idea. Base your future on Gregory House's stupendous medical expertise, and you can also might as well work on Princeton-Plainsboro too.

I don't know why, but I'm having this weird feeling that I'm not going to end up as an Engineer. My heart doesn't want the abbreviation/title Engr. before my name. It wants a god-diggity-damn Dr. instead. It doesn't want me to end up working for a telecommunications company. It wants me to work in a prominent medical institution where I can tinker people's cerebral cortexes and malpratice or whatever.

Who the hell even follows the heart anyway?

I am going to be an engineer. Oh yes I will. You just wait for 5 years.

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You know what else is a wonder? I can easily write a 1000-word shit here in this blog, but I just can't write an essay about my country with the same number of words on MS Word.

Oh, and get this. I'm deferring my entry to that essay-writing contest by Manila Times. I believe that writing about what would it take for my country to develop is the most hypocritic thing I'm doing. And obviously I have to stop, because being a hypocrite and an introvert at the same time will drive people away from me. Ok, so maybe I would somehow fancy the latter idea. I will stick to my introverted belief.

So to speak, I will not join that contest anymore. I'm no journalist, essayist, or whatsoever. I can't write stuffs about anything that doesn't include myself. That's how cocky I can get.

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This blog entry is so long.

But I just can't stop blabbing. Someone just please shut me up.

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Ha. It took me roughly 2 hours just to complete this freakin' entry. Blame it on television shows.

So yes. I'm shutting up now.

Sunday, November 25, 2007

Retardisimo

I have this weird habit of researching about stuffs that nobody in my age range has an impenetrable interest on. That's how useless I can get, actually. Anyways, I googled 'Dirty Sanchez' a while ago, hoping to get some proper information about the aforementioned term that is somewhat connected to what I saw a few weeks ago in a video link. And yes, it is a pornographic term that I have yet to elucidate.

Thanks to Wikipedia for the blurry and highly-delusive details. I learned a bit, really.

Dirty Sanchez is a sexual favor done by anyone who is exceptionally horny. A partner then puts feces above the upper lip of his/her lip, resembling a mustache, hence the el weirdo name. This act is connected to Coprophilia and Coprophagia, which is any sexual favor involving shit, and eating crap respectively (although I don't think ANY of this is respectable).

First of all, I cannot think of any reason why someone would actually eat his/her shit, or in more disgusting cases, eat the crap of others. What pleasure do you even get in eating dirt anyway? Yeah, I used to eat feces too, actually. But all of it happened when I was still a mindless kid, dammit. Even if Steve Jobs would give me the whole Cupertino just to eat a blob of his shit, I wouldn't do it for the world, or even for myself. I'd rather be eaten alive by African cannibals. At least I would satisfy those hungry tribes with my fat ass certainly not in any sexual way.

These people shall surely enjoy hell.

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I have bad news for those people who are long expecting me to be the new face of MyDeathSpace or SatanSpace or whatever hellish website you can think of aside from this trashy blog.

I'm leaving the bandwagon for hell (or death row, if you hate metaphors). There's just too many kids trying to be in the nicest line ever made by a group of posers. I mean, if they're committing suicide, then I'm gonna stay and live my ol' rotten life. I can't believe these people actually have valid reasons why they should die. And here I am, trying to figure out one good excuse for God to give me that waiver that will surely guarantee a package trip to heaven in my after life. Now that's non-conformity for you.

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For all of you who are addicted to House MD like me, I will spoil the hell out of you.

1. In the first episode, House will solve the medical mysteries by himself. If you can remember, House fired Chase, then Cameron abdicated as follows. And with that, his whole team is nowhere to be found in the medical institution where House is. Chase and Cameron took new jobs in Arizona, while Foreman also has a new job in New York. For all those bisexual aficionados for Wilson and House's love affair, don't worry. Wilson is still there.

2. In the second episode, House will then look for 3 new doctors who will be part of his new team. Unsurprisingly, he got 40 interviewees, hungry for some medical mumbo-jumbo with Dr, House himself. It's the whimsiest episode I've seen in the past 3 seasons. Or maybe I'm just so depressed, medical comedy is my only way out of manic depression.

Chase and blond Cameron are engaged. Not as cute as Chase alone.

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I can't wait to go back to school on Monday. This house is increasing my weight and making me all depressed about it at the same time. A sign that your belly is so abnormally big already is when you've noticed that no matter how long your shirt is, it will keep rolling up and consequently exposing your pot belly. Damn.

And since my nerdy ego kicked back 2 days ago, I've got nothing to do now. So yes, let's give the following lyrics some meaning.

I wanna put my fingers thru your hair
Wrap me up in your legs
And love you till your eyes roll back
I'm tryin to put you to bed, bed, bed
I'mma put you to bed, bed, bed
Then I'ma rock your body
Turn you over
Love is war
I'm your soldier
Touching you like it's our first time
I'mma put you to bed, bed, bed
I'ma put you to bed, bed, bed

And if you've been living in your closet for the past few months (because I think even those AIDS victims in Africa enjoy every minute of their day with this addicting song. Jesus. Why do I keep hitting on those poor earthlings anyway? My email is on my profile, for those of you who want to bombard me with hate mails. Thank you, really. You guys are making me famous.), the title of this song is Bed, made famous by J Holiday.

If you will sing it, then you'll automatically get its evident meaning. But if you're half-Jesus and you've never heard of sensuality or whatever, the lyrics might give you an impression that it's written by an incestuous father for his innocent daughter. I mean, add 3 more creepy lines then voila! I now present you a disgusting sonnet. I'm sure Mr. Shakespeare will like it, really.

You make me so hot
Make me wanna drop
You're so ridiculous
I can barely stop
I can hardly breathe
You make me wanna scream
You're so fabulous
You're so good to me Baby Baby
You're so good to me Baby Baby

This song is awfully sex-driven. I mean, what else from the opposite male can make you immensely hot aside from his.....(*insert a green joke that only a nympho will surely understand here*)? But if you actually read between the lines of the whole song, it's good. If you're sexually active, that is.

Beep beep beep,
Ang sabi ng jeep (said the jeep)
Beep beep beep beep beep
Beep beep beep,
Ang sabi ng jeep (said the jeep)
Beep beep beep beep beep
Beep beep beep
Ang sabi ng jeep (said the jeep)
Beep beep beep beep beep

No wonder our country is nowhere near growth and development. I mean, look at our transportations. They're already whining, for Christ's sake! Oh come on, it's evident in the third and fourth line, same goes for the sixth and seventh. The jeep does not want any fucking diesel anymore. What it wants is change, obviously. Ha. And you thought you're an activist.

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That scholarship is not for me, nor I deserve any scholarship in the duration of my sucky life. Maybe in my graduate studies. But I doubt that God will give me another big shot scholarship...

Okay. Stop blabbing.


Friday, November 23, 2007

I Can Actually Die Right Now

Ever since I've discovered that I already have a sure school for my collegiate education, I've been tossing and turning on my bed, imagining what my sucky fat life would be in Mapua. And damn. No matter what I imagine, I would always look like a fat pig. That's either a sign that I will have no chance of slimming down, or a warning from God that I should stop having dry and quasi-academic fantasies.

Mapua is definitely a good school for my engineering dreams, I know. Dad took up Computer Engineering as well for his freshmen year there. When I told him the good news, he became ecstatic as hell. I don't know, he probably wants me to continue his terminated Mapuan education. As you all don't know, I'm the reason why he had to transfer to another school. Dad made love with mom..then ZING! Teenage pregnancy reveries fulfilled.

Blah-diddy-blah-blah, dad. You know very well that you have a conceited daughter. That's why she will be changing her course again to ECE.

I want a title. Badly, really. A hard-earned title. A fucking title that would shout out to the world when I finally graduate that I am, therefore, an engineer. Engr. Paragas. Engr. Paragas. ENGR. Damn that 5 characters. I've been doodling that tasty title with my last name on a size one of a paper for the last 3 days.

You people are all in trouble if I do not end up with my desired title. Knock on wood my ass.

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Odd, isn't it? I'm writing on a morning of a school day. And no, I did not skip school, for Christ's sake. I have the final paper of our IP and our data gathering for our god-forsaken thesis to deal with, dammit. As much as I would like to be killed by my seemingly baneful groupmates, I cannot leave them alone for some reasons surely NOT connected to kindness or whatsoever. Jesus. I have no heart to begin with anyway.

Today is actually the second day of our small holiday. It all started yesterday, really. They have some big time convention/seminar at school with imported caucasian speakers. They probably don't want us to interfere with their idealistic shits, and/or bother their award-winning moments with such foreign invaders. So to speak, they gave us a 3-day vacation. It's more of a 3-day escapade in hell, if you ask me. They bombarded us with tons of homeworks. Damn those obdurate creatures. It would probably kill them if we relax our minds or whatever.

My nose is surprisingly numb for pesky holidays. I can't smell that Yuletide shit again. Oh well, that's a handy excuse for me to not give gifts. Hurr-freaking-hay.

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I gotta go to school now. Not to study, but to help people design our classroom for the literary portal shit next week.

UGHHH.

Happy Thanksgiving to all ye immigrants.

Wednesday, November 21, 2007

I'm Quasi-ready.

I should say that this day sucked. For one, I will not be able to play for the 1 vs. 50 game for next week because nobody voted for me, even for the panel who will serve as the department of health for the said game. I'm thinking that nobody did so because none of those representatives actually know me, aside from Monica (who was luckily voted by those other representatives to be part of that panel I was talking about. What a crucial attempt to break our friendship, huh?). I want to play SO badly. I want to humiliate myself and show the world how much of a stupid-ass I am.

But those people just won't give me a freakin' chance. Well, your loss.

(What I just said awhile ago is in a sardonic way of course. I will never ever pick a fight with smarty-pantsy people. Seriously. It's either they don't know me, or I'm just a tad noob.)

Another thing is that every senior student today was inspected due to two absurd things:

-Allegedly, somebody told our English teacher that students don't actually surrender their gadgets. Instead, they would hide it in their pockets or bags or lockers or some good place that only them and a couple of her peers would know. Honestly, I was deeply affected by this one. Not because I bring my babies to school most of the times, but because why does she have to be such a pesky and bratty girl anyway? She reminds me of that kid from Adam Sandler's movie Click who keeps on bragging his new stuffs to the Newman kids, and being such a goddamn tattletale towards everybody he hates, I suppose.

-We thought it was our fault, actually. Let's just say that T-Pain played a major role a while ago.

I thought it was cute that after the said inspection, senior students who don't really know each other would break down into small groups and talk about what just happened. I mean, really. Peace and order is definitely the new cute.

But then, something hindered me from saying that this day really sucked.








I can't believe I passed that stupid exam. As you people don't know, I was not able to study for this exam, evidently because we went out the day before to watch a crappy and sappy movie...went home late..blahblah.

And I passed it. I really did. I really really did.

I can't stop gaping.



Monday, November 19, 2007

Ugh

I'm probably weirder than I think I truly am. As of this day, I've made a total of 7 sonnets. And to think that I started last night. Oh, the horror. I don't really know what pushed me to do so. And I don't think it's the product of boredom again, because boredom can never lead you to unleash your inner hopeless romantic or whatsoever. If that's the case, then you're either in love, or you're just frustrated because everyone thinks you're mentally retarded.

Anyways, I finally took my last CET ever yesterday. I can't really say that it's the easiest. Although it can be evident with the paper they used(which is only a quarter of the usual short bond testing paper with ellipses that you have to shade.), there are countless items that I have to guess, because I was not able to review a single thing. I'm not going to blame the fact that I went out last Friday, and arrived at 10-ish PM already. Ooh, let's just blame my stupidity, shall we? Jesus. The truth that you're stupid as an ass comes handy sometimes.

My dad was superlatively proud when he knew that his freaky daughter should be a GIFT awardee after all. And I told him that it was probably the administration's fault, because they're obviously depriving me. God. Will it hurt these people to print out the truth that my GIFT grade is A+, and NOT just A? My coach told me that the grade she gave me is a hardcore A+, because I'm active enough to deserve such grade.

Or maybe all of it is a simple display of discrimination. Damn. I told you being so fat really sucks. They treat us more badly than they do to excessively ugly people.

I hate paranoia.

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Of course I'm going to share one of those weird sonnets I made. I have pride and dignity, you know. This sonnet's title is the name of a famous mall in the metro. It's big, and a high-rolling tycoon owns it, and any other establishments with the same name. And no matter how many times you read it, this is not intended for anybody that once proved his significance to my life. And no, I'm no poetic bitch-ass.

I don't know what lead me to do this
Maybe it's because I miss you so badly
Your love, how my body longs for your kiss
My heart, trying to win you back unreasonably

Things are not better off without you
Maybe I'm still infatuated, oh I don't really know
I reminisce the days when your whispers would depict love that seemed to be true;
Or maybe I'm just still sad that you have to let go

I want to show you how much blissful ignorance is
I want to show you how much I loathe you now
But that thing is, I'm still not ready to take the risk;
The risk of making everything more sour

Maybe if you come back, I would get better;
For we shall spend our lives loving each other forever

It's a wonder how I can get so sappy at times like these, when I would fail to smitten myself just by thinking of what used to be...cute.

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This week can be summarized into one word: YUM YUM.

We'll have our sickening field trip tomorrow for my Mandarin class. No classes from Wednesday to Friday.

Ooh yeah. Long freakin' weekend, here I come.

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Friday, November 16, 2007

I Slept

..for quite a good 8 hours last Monday. Yummy.

This is actually my first time to do this. You know, go home early then sleep already. And take note, I did not procrastinate anything. I already finished everything that is due the next day at school. Ah, this is really the good life, Mr. Kanye West and Teddy Pain.

I got over the fact that my Mandarin grade made me less deserving to get that stupid academic award. I cried over it at school, then cried over it at home. Then I'm over. I learned that I have to move on and try harder this quarter, if I really want to get that academic award and make my parents incredibly proud of their suicidal daughter.

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The fact that my writer's block would easily go away when I have to cram a chapter of our thesis or a mere laboratory report surprises me to death. Now that, ladies and gentlemen, is what you a real stressful confession.

This day really stressed me. No, really. First off at our first period, which is English, we talked about the upcoming English/Science fest which I think will be the weirdest day ever in school history. English and Physics are two completely different things. Yeah sure, our Physics subject is taught through the English language, but that's merely it. Shakespeare is not to be confused with gravitational forces, which is the same thing as Newton killing himself just because his lover(which I assume is his ever-famous apple) killed itself too. What a stupid stupid idea.

Now guess who the hell was able to grab that opportunity to prove her inanity again.

Oh yes. It's me. Har-dee-har. Add one more stressful and pressuring thing on my list, and I will really, really, really explode badly this time. I have the final paper of our investigatory project for Physics to deal on, and the gathering of data for our thesis, and the Manila Times blah-diddy-blah-blah writing contest I decided to join in a couple of weeks ago. I have two weeks to finish my final essay for the said contest. I doubt that I will be able to make it with all these stupid things I have to do for me to finally end this socially-burdening life of mine.

My mind is punching my sanity to rant about schoolworks right now, but oh boy. I seriously just can't.

Maybe in my collegiate years. HA. What a teaser.

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Sometimes being so freaking fat just simply sucks. I mean, I'd rather be so ugly then have a spanking-sexy body.

Sunday, November 11, 2007

NAILED. NAILED. NAILED.

I just got my report card awhile ago. It was very good. But one subject's grade really made my day.

PHYSICS.

I never ever ever made a grade in a science subject 10 points higher than the previous one. I literally gaped at that super duper high score before realizing that I indeed nailed my favorite subject(other than advanced algebra, that is). 10 points, well deserved. Yum Yum.

Contrary to what I thought last month, my general average got a bit higher than the usual. It was enough for one to be an academic awardee, but ugh. Mandarin be damned. All of my subjects are already above that 88 mark(as I can remember. God, I lost my report card again.), except for that dipshit elective I have. Mrs. Wong gave me a hard 80. 80.00, actually. I was this close into having that precious academic award, but it looks like God is challenging me again.

Damn.

And I was so close into being a GIFT Awardee too. All I needed was a plus sign behind that 'A', and voila. An award for my graduation next year.

I think God hates me. You know, for refusing to worship him and acknowledge him at times. This is probably the result of all of those treacherousness I've been showing to him for the past few months.

I wish I knew who God really is. And then I can go to him and he can smack me in the head with an infrastructure or whatever personally so I can already realize my mistakes and thus stop doing them all over and over again.


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Thursday, November 08, 2007

Schizoid

I just discovered this lately, of course. When you're no bipolar, you're actually either normal, mentally retarded, or just suffering from schizophrenia. But in my case, I just found out that I'm suffering from both shitty disorders that clearly depict some serious mental problems.

God. What a psycho.

And I thought those suicidal moments will help psychologists to discover another manic disorder that will be considered as another major breakthrough for the 21st century. Oh man. Let me stress and tinker my brain more, and the next thing you'll know, I'll be running on the streets naked, shouting "LAB REPORTS! THESIS DEFENSE! IP's! STUPID PEOPLE! TREACHEROUS FRIENDS! CIGARETTES! ALCOHOL! SEX! BWAHAHA!" My parents will finally disown me by then, much for their own good.

Oh hoho no, that is not mental retardation. That's the product of constant intake of carbonated water. sugar, caramel color, phosphoric acid, some natural flavors and most especially, caffeine.

My belly's larger than my breasts. Jesus Christ. I need a break from Coke. I guess that's what I really really need to stop blabbing on these disorders that are hindering me from being the normal person I want to be.

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The new classrooms suck. I want our old classroom back, together with its countless insect boarders and abandoned webs. And yeah, with those two air conditioners that are surprisingly not run by turbines or whatever, but by those homeless felines. What a joy.

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Ah, what a wonder.

There is seriously something wrong with me these days. If you've been living under a rock for the past 2 millenniums, people who go to a certain place to learn stuffs will never feel a certain rush of excitement to hence learn. Logically speaking, to learn means to understand, and to understand means forcing these things to be absorbed by your brain, which has been absolutely hard for the past 12 years of my life spent on preschool, elementary, and secondary education. I'm no child prodigy.

But now, every school day seems to be a happy day. Not because I finally have a female crush, but because I'm hungry for schoolwork. God, that semestral break really molded up some schoolwork spirit, huh? I guess. Every time a teacher would give us some assignment, my lips would curve upward. I would happily scribble the assignment down on my school diary, and would also do it willingly at home, or in some cases when my energy is at its highest peak, in the school bus.

This is probably because I have this slight feeling that I flunked Mandarin. According to our Chinese teacher, I failed my quizzes. And yeah, I failed the examination too. I wouldn't be really surprised if my adviser would hand me my first ever conference slip tomorrow. I mean, who the hell likes Mandarin anyway? I took that shit because I thought I've decided that I'll take up Foreign Studies for my collegiate education, and ergo learning the world's most spoken language is a mighty plus.

But that was when I still didn't know how to maximize my educational assets. I picked that course primarily because of my bizarre likeness to airports. And that's it. Yeah. Dumbass, I know.

Schoolwork fetish. Ugh.

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There's this pesky kid from the grade school department who was in the same lane as I was in the school pool lately during GIFTtime. I'm assuming that she's a 4th grader, possibly training for their intramurals. She's the most absurd swimmer I knew. I've never seen such heinous abomination in my whole life, aside from myself, of course.

She has this two long pigtails on either side of her head. She would always put her arm on my shoulders, as if they're the new gutters. Jesus. I know they're the biggest thing you've ever seen, but that is not a reason to cling on it. And by so, my 200m Backstroke was, by far, the most dreadful thing I did today. As you all don't know, my usual routine is to stop for a minute when I finish a lap, then go and do a lap again to go to the other side. But today (oh today), I did the deadly laps non-stop. Because if I would stop, she would irritate me again. Damn that kid.

Our short-lived conversations that scrutinized my english-speaking capability.

Kid: "Are you an Indian?"
By which I replied no, of course. What a new way to insult me. Yeah, sure. Distinguish my race by how dark my underarms are, and I'll strangle you till your bones are soft enough to eat.

Kid: "My teeth is squeaky!" *rubs her finger to her tiny teeth*
To shut the hell out of her up, I irritatedly moved the side of my head near her mouth so I could pretend to be amazed by the squeaking wonders of her little incisors.
Me: "Oh."
Kid: "Does your teeth squeak too?"
Me: "No."
Kid: "Why?"
Me: "I don't have an idea."
Kid: "Well, drink water!"
Me: "I don't like water."
Kid: "But wate-"
And thank God our coach already gave me the signal to start doing laps again.

Kid: "I don't wanna do that torpedo arms floating thingy anymore."
Me: "I don't wanna swim anymore."
Kid: "Well, what else do you do? Track and Field?"
Me: "I do Physics."
Kid: "PHYSICS? But that's math!"
Ha. In your fucking sucky face, kid. Physics is no math. Physics is the only thing susceptible of explaining why you are so god-diggidy annoying.

Good thing she went out of the pool ahead of time. God knows what I could've done to her if she didn't do so.

Look, I know I have 4 siblings under me, but what the hell. They aren't as bothersome as this kid is.

So people, beware of kids like this. The next thing you'll know, they will be following you into your respective homes, and would murder your stuffed toys.

Saturday, November 03, 2007

Surprise, Surprise. I Can Speak Perfect English, Jimmy Kimmel

Oh yesiree I did. I did not post yesterday just so people would think that the bored0m stick is not burdening my asshole, or whatever. But to nobody's surprise, I practically did nothing yesterday. Sure, it was All Saint's day yesterday, and all of you have probably visited your dead love ones in some cemetery or wherever.

How about me, you may ask?

Well, I slacked off, as usual. We don't have any dead relative in any of the countless cemeteries here in the metro. All of them dead-asses are either in Dagupan City in Pangasinan, or in Bulacan. Of course, being the lazy slob that I am, I did not join grandma and grandpa to their Halloween Escapade yesterday. Much as I would like to be scrutinized by my older cousins who have nothing to blab about aside from the fact they will be graduating next year with their magna cum laude-d diplomas, I cannot take the burden of commuting to a place that is 170 kilometers from my home.

Grandpa used to drive that blue Nissan pick-up when we have to go there for our yearly visit for our dead relatives I hardly even knew. I was so pissed off when grandpa told me that they'll be commuting this year. I asked my mom why the hell would he prefer to commute, when he can drive our car, or whatever car he wants (they have a couple of cars). Mom then told me that grandpa's getting old, and can't really drive that far anymore. I've never felt so flustered in my whole 16 years of existence.

God. Sometimes being awfully arrogant and selfish sucks. Even in a hermetical way, it would make you realize how bad you really are.

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I was channel surfing awhile ago, and I came upon to one of my favorite channels ever in cable tv, which is the DZMM TeleRadyo in channel 26. I saw a headline that made me sigh exaggeratedly.
"ABC Network ng Amerika, ininsulto muli ang mga Pilipino." (America's ABC network insults Filipinos again)

As a citizen of this rotten country, my first reaction was: "What the..? Can't they just lay off for at least a month?(for the record, that racial slur is still a couple of weeks ago.)"

My second reaction was: "Whatever that insult was, I wouldn't really give a god-diggity-damn about it. Not that I'm perfidious to my country, but it's just that I don't really care that much about my country right now."



Oh wait. I finally got hold of the stupid video.





And this is my final reaction:

This is probably the most sickening thing I've heard and watched all day. Just so you know, Jimmy Kimmel said "Because especially in the Philippines..I mean, they probably don't speak English..no one can read the ransom note or anything."

What a dumbass. I need not to elaborate more.


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I can't believe I'm saying this.

I don't want to return to school. I was thinking of our thesis awhile ago, and the mere idea of it haunted me all day. Our first drafts for the first three chapters of our thesis are missing, and I have yet to find it when I'm in my studious mood.

Ha. And to think that I was itching to go back to that hellhole a few days ago. Ugh.

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Thursday, November 01, 2007

Damn It Did

Fine. I look like a moron by being awfully hypocritical to my last post and thus posting again. It's either I play PS2 or Wii or slack off in my room or blog anyway. This semestral break is going absolutely nowhere.

I was checking out new secrets posted at PostSecret awhile ago. One secret killed me, really.

"i am afraid that the person i would love and myself will never meet, since we would both be too introverted to introduce ourselves."

Fuck. Why do some people have to share their secrets anyway? Don't they know that some people have similar secrets to deal with? I don't know why that particular secret had struck me the most. I mean, yeah sure I'm an introvert. And dammit. All introverts are misanthropic, for Christ's sake. It's not our fault we all have a tinge of Asperger's Syndrome in our pituitary glands. And it's not also gonna be our fault that some people are just born to socialize like hell.

I made a couple of what-if scenarios after pounding that stupid secret in my head.

WHAT IF..

1. I had the body of Giselle Bundchen? (And be brainless like her? No way. And even if I have both the brain and the body, I don't think that THAT will impress anyone. She looks like the extra-Asian version of my butt crack. Seriously.)

2. I'm the god of the opposite sex? (That would be weird. You know, having an obese teenage girl as a god. I doubt that even a male yak would take me sedately.)

3. I am the fantasy of every living human with XY sex-chromosomes? (Well, that would be cool. Even the most homo and hetero and trans and metro would sure be thinking of my sickening body. Damn. That should've been my thesis. You know, proving that the third and fourth and nth sex is non-existent. Ha.)

4. I have social skills, or whatever you call such? (Studies have shown that people who are very much delighted by the wonders of the universal language[clue: not english] really do lack social skills. It's a sad fact, I know. I mean, look at Stephen Hawking. Jesus. He's socially deficit.)

5. I don't giggle when I'm nervous? (Now this I would like. No more further elucidation needed.)

But then I realized that I'm already transcendent on my own. Ha. What a moronic conclusion. (and shoddily narcissistic too)

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This day was quasi-productive.

In the gaming world, that is.

I was able to finish Final Fantasy X-2 today. Woah. What an achievement for a gaming poser like me. After 1 and a half year of tinkering my video game console, I was finally able to complete all the 5 chapters of that stupid 'ol game.

Look, I've been playing Final Fantasy for as long as I can remember. And God knows why I haven't been anime-d yet. You know, worshiping those hot-as-hell characters in the game. I find Squall hot, and that's it. It's hard to have fantasies with a video game character. I have to imagine myself as one of the characters in the game in order for my fantasy to work. And duh. I'm no Square Enix worker to do that. I tried doing it once during one boring Filipino class, and I ended up imagining Simoun smoking weed instead.

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Okay. I'm goddamn bored. Isn't it evident? I've been blogging everyday.

I have to stop. I just have to.