Wednesday, August 30, 2006

Earth Is Hell... and we're in it!

This is something you might wanna think about, ladies and gentlemen.

All throughout my life I have observed that the guy upstairs would take the good people off this pitiful excuse of a thing we call life.

I have come to the frustrating conclusion that I have no reason to fear hell. The simple reason being that I am already here so I think it is somewhat pointless to start praying to God not to send me here. So whatever religious retard wants to comment about the tortures of hell you can shut your faggot trap because you and I are on the same hell. So if you're concerned about not going to hell how about you start praying for God to get you out of here. I'll bet your prayer time is going to double.

Why have I come up with this "stupid", "moronic", "silly" - and all the other pathetic/pitiful yet motivational terms you religious losers like to call it - conclusion? Well, because all the good people have dropped dead and here I am stuck in this world with the assholes, hormone junkies (men who are so much in denial of their homosexuality), faggots and ugly people. I must've done something wrong in my previous life as I cannot see no apparent reason why I should be stuck here. I think it's mainly because I try so much to be an asshole and am addicted to making others miserable so they can stay in hell forever. Here's another interesting finding, the more obsessed you are with God the more he'll stash you here because he doesn't want an annoying prick kissing His holy ass all the time. Think along the lines of a crazed fan so why don't you get a fucking life, church junkie! The only reason you're in there is because you can't get a normal social life!

It's really simple. If you're good, you're dead. If you're bad, God will condemn you to the eternal pits of hell, which is pretty much similar to what you see outside the window. Now go outside and kill yourself. If you're lucky you might actually succeed.

Sunday, August 27, 2006

My Reality Sucks

I live in a dream. Such is the fate of someone whose attention span is shorter than that of a cicada on steroids.

Up until seven years ago I have been reminded again and again of the harsh realities of, well, REALITY.

Reality struck me one afternoon when a friend of mine lent me a video of the well sought after "USC Scandal". In my childish mind, watching porn would mean seeing someone like Jenna Jameson do two or three guys, probably with massive tools, at once. Reality is watching two of my highschool hearthrob classmates do an anonymous campus slut with their less than satisfactory weiners - much to the dismay of the female populace on campus. "Welcome to the real world" was what I told myself after watching that video.

I admit that I practically spent a small fraction of my life in the real world. Delusion would eventually mark me as an outcast for the rest of my academic years. I would mostly spend hours in the classroom just looking out the window daydreaming of a perfect world. I would sometimes imagine myself having the perfect job and being able to do it in a breezy way. Reality is a Fortune 500 corporation outsourcing employment to my country. Instead of hiring on of their kind they hire like a dozen people here equivalent to the salary for one theirs. If I didn't know any better I want to be paid the same rate. I don't care if I suck at my job, they don't care about me anyway. If ever I'd spend the rest of my life being a rat just like everyone else then I'd also make it so these companies who hire me end up in a stalemate. Reality is a 2 year contract that says you you can't sue the company but the company can sue you.

Women are also a part of my delusional fantasies about love. I often dreamed of finding my ideal mate one day. There I should be with my arms around her and her lips on my cheek. A consolation would be that at least I'd get lucky at least once a week. Reality is a sexually transmitted disease should you plan to indulge in deviant sexual acts. Proctor and Gamble would be so proud of me. If you plan to ideally commit to women these days? Reality is a heartless bitch who is just along for the ride.

Lastly is my dream of a beautiful city that I like to live in. A city with wide streets, wide sidewalks and responsible people. Reality is road poorly builty because government officials stole half of the expenses and said it's all there. Reality is the citizens crossing the roads as if there aren't any vehicles that's going to run them down in to oblivion. Reality, however, is the car cannot stop on time and velocity is the bigger reality than flesh and bones.

Reality is the government employee doing nothing behind the desk being paid a hefty sum by yours truly.
Reality is the small salary your receive because some asshole across the globe can't afford to hire someone just like him.
Reality is the IQ of your officemate goes lower as their position goes higher.
Reality is your butt ugly girlfriend when in your mind you're screwing Eva Mendes.
Reality is you can't afford a good girlfriend.
Reality is NO ONE is created equal.
Reality is you'll spend the rest of your life working for someone else.
Reality is loyalty goes to the highest bidder.
Reality is nobody's perfect.
Reality is you can't accept nobody's perfect.
Reality is there is no God.
Reality is money makes reality. Did I mention somewhere along the lines of "it can buy happines"?
Reality is death.

This is reality. Welcome to the real world, asshole.

Tuesday, August 22, 2006

Filipino Pride - Imported?

The question would be where is it? Has the pride of my countrymen been misguided? I honestly don't remember the last time I've seen good Filipino talent that I could sincerely say is homegrown.

Except for that Ayala commercial, it's everywhere in the country - especially celebrities and socialites. Either some punk kid - who I'd initially assume is gay - or some decent looking girl who turns out to be a slut from god-knows-where in Europe. What do they have in common? Well, nothing actually aside from the fact that their Nth degree bloodline is Filipino and we, the ignorant lovers of western culture and ethnic perfection love the thought that we have a beautiful genetic product from an evidently overpowered gene. These degenerates from where they come from have decided to flee to a country they barely know "to start a new life" so to speak. After a few tequila shots at the night clubs and a couple more undisclosed acts with the local "talent fags". Bingo! I'm on Pinoy Big Fucker (actually that remark wasn't really fair considering I have never seen this show. Sorry.).

Ladies and gentlemen, in the LIKELY event that you'll get lucky with these bitches & ho's please take extra care by wearing two condoms. It doesn't matter what appendage of your body you'll be using just use condoms to show that YOU CARE ABOUT YOUR SORRY-ASS SELF, pervert!

Unless, you're a Filipina with T&A (tits & ass for you conservative types) and a perverted aura, you really have no chance against these "Filipino imports" who are technically not Filipino - not by a long shot. You think your coming here and learning our language with your accent counts you as Filipinos? Hell no! It's no wonder our own talents have resorted to those degrading sex movies! It's even at the cost of our country's image!

It saddens me that although I initially thought that Filipinos were blind to race and culture is actually a racist just like everyone else in the world and the victims are it's own. The irony! :(

Even in the newspaper it sickens me. The column would introduce a Ms.-I-Don't-Give-A-Shit who took up this what-the-hell-is-that course in some "prestigious" university with mommy and daddy's help because an undeground syndicate has formed a plot against their baby. Now G.I. Joe and Barbie wants to set up shop here in our country and plans to apply what they learned with their MBA (MASTER BULLSHITTER AWARD). After one year of their so-called business they decided to close shop because the area was not "feasible". Duh! You should have figured that out before you started, master bullshitter! Where's the media then? Forgotten and as obsolete as the Macarena. Why not introduce rags to riches stories of true blue Filipinos who made it big, guys? A good article would be a story about someone who didn't have what these unbearable spoiled hobgoblins have when they were kids yet managed to humble them in every possible way. That way we'd all be inspired by them instead of feeling so miserable and insignificant with your columns. What's the matter? They don't pay you enough to catch your attention? Perhaps if they screwed some councilor it would be more intesting, ey?

Even this simple little thing: I once had a girlfriend whose father was Spanish-American. Suffice it to say she definitely looked like a typical white girl. Hell, I shit you not when she made friends over at this out of town barrio, everyone wants her to be the godmother of this wedding and that baptism. Blah blah blah... No big deal, ey? Except I know for a fact that this continuous streak of invitations could only mean they want some white girl to show off to the rest of the town. It's pathetic really. I felt sorry for her.

One last thing, don't give me that "It's still Filipino pride because they are one of us" shit coz you can flip the world over a dozen times and it still doesn't change the fact that we, as a country, have no pride at all in our own kind. Before you reason out like the pitiful shallow 3rd world country that we are, think long and hard about what you're really proud of because I know it isn't ours. Are you proud that they are Filipinos, which they are evidently not, or are you proud that they are Filipinos mixed with genes from races that you consider greater than our own?

For the record, Filipinos have more mixed blood than these two-bit freaks from outer space.

My non-existent fighting spirit

Sifting through the net and searching for reputable bloggers I cannot help but notice that there is actually a whole different world with bloggers. Communities, syndications, directories and the like seem to have littered the web with aspiring writers, journalists, lunatics, homicidal maniacs and all the normal people I see everyday. In this case I have the uneasy acceptance that fiction, as of the moment, is stranger than fact. Let's forget this little anomaly for the moment and reflect on the fact that I am again left with a voluntary decision to put my balls out there for everyone else to see.

It all began when mommy refused to buy me that G.I. Joe action figure and everything else in my life went spiraling down to this pitiful excuse for a rat caught in the rat race. NO, wait, that's another story. :p

Anyway, as I was saying, I was left with a trivial decision that needed some pondering. Not that I would end up saying 'yes' anyway but it was still a dilemma that seems to taunt my self-esteem. Fact is, I was never a joiner. No, not like Batman! Sure, I've got some "skillz" in many things - PC gaming to mention a few. Honestly, in all my life I have never had anything that was worth fighting for except myself.

I practically don't have any competitive gene in my body. If you would challenge me to a duel, I would probably end up breaking your face but not to the extent that anyone would say I won the fight. But I would definitely make sure you wouldn't win either. In a fight between me and you, nobody wins. Even in the unlikely event that you can win, I'd make sure that your victory was a costly one. One day you'll wake up and ask yourself was it really worth to beat the living shit out of me? Let me give you a hint: It's not exactly the type of story you'd tell your grand kids about - or your boyfriend, fag!

Perhaps this is the main reason why I haven't done anything worth weighing in gold. Some of my highschool and elementary classmates - and I emphasize "SOME" considering the majority have ended up sorry ass losers because it's either they don't know how to use a fucking condom or have self-esteem lower than my own, which I initially thought was impossible - have actually made it big in the world. Some are running their own businesses, which I believe came from mommy and daddy's help, or have flourishing careers in prestigious companies around the globe and in places that would probably take me 100 years to save up for it. This really isn't a good sign.

To name one pointless and unrelated example: even as a kid when my mom signed me up for a (promising?) modeling career. But that was back in the days before multi-cultured, but mainly Western blood mixed Filipinos were the main criteria and fags called the shots. I hated the fact that I would subject myself at a potentially vainful act at such a young age. Wise I was beyond my years that I did not succumb to such forms of vanity - but mainly because I took steroids that made my hormones rise beyond natural levels.

Medals, awards and other pieces of shit people get for their own personal delusions of grandeur really isn't my field. Nevermind the fact that, although most of them are supposedly humble and down to earth, they end up as senile arrogant bastards who like to talk on hours end about the good ol' days where he got laid every night because he can jump higher than anyone else. Deep inside any competitive heart is really just another greedy, self-centered prick who wants all the attention. "No, I'm really just a regular guy. I never expected any of this fame." You're pathetic!

Fact of the matter is, I still don't want to have to do anything with everyone else. I have always had this impulse where I really despise being like everyone else. I really don't like following the fads or the "in" things. I just simply want to be me and not looking like some drug-crazed rock star or tough-looking gangsta wannabee or some pubic-haired reggae artist, which is pretty much what everyone else is. Being in the rat race is punishment enough for me.

Monday, August 21, 2006

Got Mikey's attention

Well, at least it's better than nothin.

Apparently, master blogger internet (porn) star is a little upset of the title of my link to him. I don't really read his stuff frequently but it really is a good laugh from time to time to pay a visit. So my apologies, Mike, if I didn't update my links but, NO, the comment stays! :p Leave it the rest of the readers to decide if I have bad taste in people to look up to.

Friday, August 18, 2006

Waiting for the next one.

Ok. More advice for the broken-hearted. I swear, if I make 50 more pages of this kind of thing, I could write a book and make a killing! Hell, it will probably save around $1,000 to pay the shrink, which is probably too much to pay someone to teach you something that can easily be addressed by common sense. Duh!

Ok so here it goes. Some people find someone new with a flick of a finger or maybe the very next day. I've tried getting a rebound and also tried being the rebound.

One thing I did notice are the gaps in between. Someone once said that nothing can be useful - like the space between the four walls make up a house. I had no idea it would also be applicable in breakups. I realized now that the breathing space you take between relationships is actually a better headroom to grow. I did learn a lot while being single than being in a relationship.

Here's another interesting thing: The longer the gap between relationships the better condition you'll be in once the next one comes along. I'm not exactly sure, but I think it has to do with getting over. I've had a girlfriend in just a month after the previous one. I've also had a girlfriend one year after the previous. Believe me, the effects of both are different even if their places were exchanged. One girl has to catch the shit coming from the last one and the other one has to deal with nothing at all. I regret the former relationship but as I look back at it now, it was worth the price although the price I paid was the expense of someone else's broken heart.

Here's what I understood: The longer the space you put between partners, the more recuperating time you get. I believe that the more time you spend alone after a break-up purges the pain, the memories and most ESPECIALLY the bitterness.

Honestly, do you want your new found love to be the catcher of all your relationshp woes? The dilemmas and the such? Nobody deserves that kind of experience! If you want them to be happy, you YOURSELF must be happy with yourself. Always be ready for the next one by clearing out your head. Trust me, the enthusiasm you have with a new relationship is directly proportional to the waiting time you had them. A few weeks and a year makes a lot of difference! ;)

As for me, a year really did me wonders. ;) In fact, I found my favorite relationship after a 1year waiting period. Up to this day our relationship was still memorable.

What others are yacking...