Showing newest posts with label boy bastos. Show older posts
Showing newest posts with label boy bastos. Show older posts

Wifi


Sa susunod na papasok sa isang mamahaling restawran para mang-umit ng libreng Intarnetz:

1. Siguraduhing fully charged ang baterya ng laptop para hindi ka mabitin sa pagba-bloghop.

2. Magdala ng listahan ng mga kung anu-anong shit na ida-download para hindi nabablangko kung anong website ang pupuntahan pagdating sa restawran.

3. Wag maging palangiti sa mga waiter at waitress para hindi mapagkamalang mabait ka at magbibigay ka ng malaking tip pagkatapos mong kumain.

4. Sumimangot at ipakita ang kagaspangan ng pag-uugali sa mga serbedora para tantanan ka na sa paulet-ulet at nakakarinding tanong na "Sir, may kailangan pa po ba kayo?" at kung anu-ano pang variation ng tanong na 'to.

5. Namnamin ang bawat hibla ng manok na binudburan ng isang botelyang harina, hatiin sa isanglibong piraso ang pizzang nagmukang minatamis na panghimagas sa sobrang dami ng pinya, paikutin nang paikutin sa tinidor ang pasta, at wag ubusin ng isang lagukan ang isang baso ng Sprite para makatagal sa pag-Iintarnetz.

6. Wag igagala ang paningin sa kung saan-saan at umismid sa mamang malaki ang katawan para hindi mapagkamalang naghahanap ka ng ka-M2M.

7. Umupo sa pinakasulok, yung hindi ka matatanaw ng kahit na sinong kupal, para hindi ka mapagkamalang litratistang kumukuha ng piktyur ng mongoloid na pamilyang pati walang kakwenta-kwentang loob ng restawran eh ginagawang extension ng tourist spot.

8. Siguradahing may mga magagandang chikas na nagpapa-presko ng kepyas sa loob ng restawran bago ipasok ang tite pumasok para hindi madisappoint kung saka-sakaling puro mga gurang at babaeng tinubuan ng tiyan ang mga bilbil ang makakasama sa loob.

Mary Palmer


Warning: The following post contains scenes not suitable for very young retards and highly moralistic individuals. Read at your own risk.

Sa mga taong nagtatanong kung nakauwi na ba ko nang maayos dito sa probinsya naming maya’t maya eh umuulan at nakapangliliit ng tite ang lamig, ikinalulungkot kong sabihing nakaluwas naman ako paalis ng Maynila nang walang aberya. Maliban sa lalakeng nagtitikol sa loob mismo ng bus, maluwalhati naman akong nakarating sa lunang aaminin kong namiss ko nang sobra-sobra.

Oo, tama ang pagkakabasa mo. Sa di inaasahang pangyayari eh merong isang pasaherong sobrang libog ng mga palad at sa loob pa mismo ng bus gumawa ng kahalayang dapat sana eh aktibidades pambanyo lang. But that’s getting ahead of the story. Sa bandang huli ko na lang ikukuwento ang pagmamariang palad ni Manong Makati (binibigkas sa paraang maragsa).

Blog update muna tayo.

Unang abiso. Ipinaputol na ang DSL sa amin. Naghihirap na raw kami at hindi na kayang bayaran ng tita ko ang “luho” ng mga pinsan kong maski na may asawa na eh daig pa ang estudyante kung makahingi ng sustento sa mama nila. Para sa hindi nakakaalam, ako po eh nakatira sa isang extended family setup kung saan isang compound ng magkakadikit na mga bahay ng tito’t tita, pinsan at mga pinsan pa, pamangking inaanak at pamangking hindi inaanak ang pugad naming magkakapamilya. Traditional Pinoy culture pervading ika nga.

Kaya naman ipagpaumanhin niyo kung hindi ko natupad ang pangako kong magba-bloghop ako pagkauwi ko. Kita niyo naman, pati mga manaka-nakang comment dito eh naumay na dahil hindi ko pa nareplyan. Meron akong dalang Globe Tattoo pamback-up kako. Eh ang kaso, dadaigin mo pa si Pong Pagong bago ka maka-connect sa Intarnetz. Mga commercial talaga kahit kelan sinungaling. Tsk.

I know, it sucks to be me!

Lalo na kung malayo ka sa kabihasnan at wala kang nakitang unsecure wireless network na pwedeng mapagnakawan ng bandwidth. Eto lang talaga ang advantage ng Maynila na katanggap-tanggap sakin. Sa Maynila kasi, tumuwad ka lang nang konti sa kama mo habang nagsi-search ng libreng wifi eh meron ka agad madedetect. Which proves na either galante ang kapitbahay mo para i-share sa’yo ang connection niya o tanga lang talaga siya at hindi marunong mag-setup ng WEP key para sa wireless connection niya.

Kasalukuyan kong ginagamit ang “high-speed mobile broadband from Globe” sa pagtipa ng kabalahuraang 'to at pag hindi namuti ang mga mata ko kakaantay sa mabagal na pag-open ng mga website sa browser ko, baka bumisita ako sa mga blog niyo’t mag-iwan ng two-liner shit sa kung anu-ano ring shit na pinagsususulat niyo. Kung hindi naman eh baka mag-net na lang ako sa bayan bukas.

‘Yun eh kung hindi na naman umulan at kung sinipag akong pumunta sa bayan.

Nakakatamad kasing gumala kapag umuulan. Mas masarap mamaluktot sa kumot at makipag-sex, mag-DVD marathon, magbasa ng libro, magtikol, uminom ng alak, o matulog na lang maghapon. Ako? Sinimulan ko agad manood ng DVD na binili ko sa Quiapo bago ko umalis ng Maynila. Uhaw na kasi ko sa ganitong klase ng bohemian lifestyle.

First in the list ‘yung anime na hanggang ngayon eh hindi ko pa rin alam ang ending – ang astig sa olrayt na HunterXHunter (Ang mag-i-spoiler ng ending, magkakatulo ang tite at magkaka-vaginismus ang pekpek. Mamatay man ang kulot na bulbol niyo!) Sinimulan ko ule at nasa episode 8 pa lang Greed Island OVA na 'ko. Natutuwa ako kay Gon (cute kasi ‘yung pagiging naive nung character niya) at ngayon ko lang na-realize na may similarity rin pala kaming dalawa. Bukod sa pagiging maabilidad at childish niya, ‘yung premise nung kuwento eh umiikot sa paghahanap niya sa tatay niyang Hunter. Kaya pala nagustuhan ko rin ‘tong anime na ‘to, kako. Meron din kasing paternal sentemotional tendencies.

Nakapila rin sina Dr. House at Forensics Expert Gill Grissom sa posibleng pagtutukod ng tutpik sa talukap ng mata ko. Kung hindi mo napapansin, mahilig ako sa series na may unexpected twist of event, ‘yung tipong mystery-slash-sci-fi na mag-iisip ka habang nanonood. ‘Yun ding tipong may gross, shocking, and bizarre factor. Kaya ko nga nagustuhan mga pelikula ni Quentin Tarantino. You’ll never know what you’re gonna get.

At hindi ako si Forrest Gump.

Siyempre, mawawala ba sa listahan si Maria Ozawa at ang mga naglalakihang nipols ng mga Boldywood hubadera? Ngayong malamig ang panahon, kelangan din natin ng konting pampainit...Not. Ha! Ayokong manood ng porn dito at baka mahuli pa ko ng mommy ko tulad ng binatilyong ginawang porn room ang sala nila't nahuli ng mama niyang nagtitikol sa American Pie. Baka hindi na ko patuluyin pa rito't itakwil na ko nang tuluyan.

Woist, joke lang 'to ha. Wala talaga kong dinalang bold na DVD. Pramis. Mamatay man ang kaliwang yagbols mo.

Speaking of triple XXX, kwento ko lang senyo ‘yung karumal-dumal na krimeng nangyari kanina sa bus nung papauwi na ‘ko. (Oo, kanina lang ako umuwi. Nag-inuman pa kasi kagabi sa Pasig. Hindi ako nakahindi sa mga hinayupak na housemates.)

Merong isang lalakeng de-bigote ang sumakay nung nasa bandang Tarlac na kami. Payat. Maitim. Late twenties. Mukang di mapagkakatiwalaan ang muka. Lubog ang pisngi at obyus na obyus na ang cheekbones. Halatang lulong sa masamang bisyo at mukang isang dekada nang nagmamarijuana. Alam mo ‘yung itsura ng mga cartographic sketches na ipinapaskil sa mga “Most Wanted” list ng mga pulis patola? Ganun ang karakas ng tanginang pervert.

Okey, pasensiya sa panlalait. Perpektong tao kasi ako. Walang kapintasan ang karakas. Bwahahaha!

Pero seryoso, muka talagang drug addict ang puta. Hindi ko pinansin nung una kasi nga wala naman talaga kong pakialam sa ibang tao. Maski na magkakilala tayo at magkatabi pa ng upuan eh hindi talaga kita kikibuin hangga’t hindi mo ko kinakausap. People misinterpret that for arrogance but I know myself better and I call it a manifestation of my being an introvert. Walang basagan ng trip. Eh sa allergic na talaga ko sa tao, anong magagawa niyo?

‘Yung pasaherong nagtikol? Hindi ko talaga siya mapapansin kung hindi lang siya nagpapansin. Una, kinuha niya ‘yung basyong bote ng C2 na pagulung-gulong sa sahig. Tas biglang palinga-linga sa iba pang pasahero. Lingon sa harap, lingon sa likod, lingon sa gilid. Halatang may binabalak na masama. Naisip ko nga, baliw kaya ‘tong lalakeng ‘to at sobrang paranoid sa mga kasama niyang pasahero? Hindi pa nakuntento sa kahina-hinalang kilos at bigla pang itinalukbong ‘yung pulang kurtina.

Hindi ko alam kung nagbubulag-bulagan lang ‘yung ibang pasahero o talagang wala lang talaga silang pakialam pero napansin ata nung konduktor ‘yung kakaibang ikinikilos niya kaya biglang nag-ronda at tumingin kunwari ng mga basura sa mga bakanteng upuan. Kasabay ng papalapit na pagdating ni Kuyang Konduktor kay Michael Jakol eh siya namang biglang pag-uumayos ng huli.

At nang makaalis na ang konduktor eh muling pagsasakatuparan ng itim na balak ni Michael Jakol. Itinakip niyang muli ang pulang kurtina sa kanyang sariling pagkakahumindig. Sa puntong iyon, alam ko na ang karumal-dumal na krimeng binabalak niyang gawin. At hindi nga ko nagkamali. Dahil habang umaalug-alog ang sasakyan sa tulin ng pagmamaneho ng drayber, siya rin namang pag-igtad ng lalake at pag-taas baba ng kurtinang nakabalot sa katauhan niyang Boy Bastos.

Naisip ko na lang. Wala sigurong pambili ng condom ang lalakeng jakolero kaya sa bote na lang ng C2 naghasik ng lagim. Kung nagtanong sana siya eh di sana binigay ko na lang sa kanya ‘yung reserbang Frenzy sa wallet ko.

Ganito na ba talaga kahirap at kalibog ang mga tao sa Pilipinas?

[Blangko] Insert Coin Here


Pagkatapos mag-withdraw ng dose mil sa ATM (Yabang mong gago ka! Kelangan mo pa bang banggitin 'yun? Ulol! Oo, mayabang talaga ko. May angal ka? Haha!) para ipamudmod sa mga bagay-bagay at taong nangangailangan tulad ng buchog na land lord kong halatang tigang na tigang sa sekslayp dahil hindi pinagbibigyan sa kama ng hawt niyang asawa, ng buwakanginang credit card bill na nagpapahirap pa lalo sa kalunus-lunos nang estado ko sa buhay, ng sustento ng pensyonadong ina ko (Anak, kumusta ka na? [insert three-liner buladas here] Nga pala anak, 'yung allowance ko naipadala mo na ba?), ng pang-load ng utol kong adik sa text at magpasahanggang ngayon eh hindi pa rin nagkakatrabaho maski na lisensyadong inhinyera na, at ng gusgusing taong grasa sa overpass ng España, tutok na ang dalawang malalim na mata ko sa kuwadradong monitor ng kompyuter.

Ang haba ng intro, tangina mo! Inamorin!

Lilinawin ko lang.

Hindi ako naghahanap ng backstroke fucking ni Maria Ozawa at magpasahanggang ngayon, sa dinami-dami na ng napanood kong pang-Oscar at pang-Cannes performances na ginampanan ng magaling na Japanese-Canadian bomba star na hawig ni Angelica Panganiban (Hindi mo ba napapansin? Parang effortless na ang pag-acting ni Maria Ozawa sa mga vid niya? Parang natural na natural 'yung anasan at pag-halinghing niya? 'Yan ang tinatawag na professionalism. Ha!), hindi ko pa rin talaga alam kung ano ang posisyon ni Maria Ozawa sa backstroke fucking na 'to.

Para sa mga hindi nakakaalam, sumasaydlayn ako sa Intarnetz bilang freelance writer na nagsusulat ng kung anu-anong shit para sa iba't ibang website tulad halimbawa ng Basic Pointers Before Enrolling in a Skiing Course o di kaya naman eh How To Be A Snowboard Instructor in Three Easy Steps.

I know.

Boring ang trabahong 'to at kung papipiliin akong tumuwad sa ikaapat na palapag ng hellish dormitoryong pinagkukutaan ko para ipakita ang tumbong ko sa lahat ng taong tumatawid sa Ped Xing ng España o magbabad maghapon sa Intarnetz para tumipa ng kung anu-anong shit na hindi ko naman talaga gustong isulat in the first place eh wala sa dalawa ang pipiliin ko.

Ano ako, ulol na exhibitionist? Huhlolz!

Pero malaki ang bayad sa pagsusulat ng kung anu-anong shit na tulad nito at kahit na okey naman ang pasahod sakin sa putahan bilang call center pokpok, ginusto ko pa ring sumaydlayn dahil merong mga bagay na hindi mo naman talaga kelangan pero gusto mo pa ring bilhin kasi gusto mo lang. Luho ang tawag dun.

Kaya nga nadatnan mo 'kong nakasalampak ngayon sa harap ng nakaka-cancer (?) na kahong 'to imbes na magpahangin ng tite at bayag sa aircon ng SM at mang-spot ng mga chikas na luwa ang kaluluwa dahil kelangan kong tapusin ang sampung artikulong malayo sa hinagap kong maisusulat ko pala nang walang kaabug-abog.

Correction: Maaari kong maisulat.

Dahil maski limang oras na 'kong nakatanghod sa Intarnetz eh wala pa rin akong natatapos ni isa man lang artik na naglalaman ng kahindik-hindik na topic tulad ng payroll service, online payroll system, at payroll service provider. Oo, puro walang kwentang shit at paulit-ulit na topic ang isusulat mo pero ganun talaga. Hindi ka babayaran sa galing mong magsulat halimbawa ng pantasya nobelang makapagpapataob sa The Lord of the Rings o The Chronicles of Narnia kundi sa galing mong magtagpi-tagpi ng makabuluhang sanaysay tungkol sa online payroll system o skiing course. Maliban na lang kung ikaw si J.K. Rowling.

At hindi obyus na frustrated fantasy novel writer ako.

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Sa puntong ito, maski na anong piga ang gawin ko sa ilang kilong karneng nakapaloob sa gifted skull ko eh wala talagang creative juices na lumalabas. Mahirap pala talaga magsulat nang hindi mo gusto ang isinusulat mo. Para kang tinututukan ng baril sa sentido para gahasain si Madame Auring at pagkatapos eh sekon round naman kay Mystica. Wag na nating isali si Aling Dionisiang balak mag-artista.

Na itinuturing kong signos na malapit nang magunaw ang mundo.

Tanginang yan. Ano na ba kasi nangyayari sa sangkalawakan ngayon? Bakit kung sinu-sinong pulpol na muka na lang ang isinasalpak sa pinilakang-tabing para pasikatin? At utang na loob, kelan pa naging form of entertainment ang pagmumuka ng ballroom dancer na mama (binibigkas sa paraang maragsa) ni Manny Pacquiao? Puta, kung ganto rin lang ang kalakaran, sige. Talu-talo na. Kakalimutan ko na lang ang pangarap kong maging CPA at hindi na lang ako magpapakipot sa mga offer saking mag-artista. Lololol!

Pansin mo? Ambilis kong tumipa ng kung anu-anong shit kapag free-flowing ang idea. Kapag hindi pilit at kapag lalong gusto mo ang isinusulat mo. Sana talaga parang blog na lang ang pagsusulat sa saydlayn ko. Pero ayos lang. Meron pa kong isang rest day para tapusin ang sampung payroll ekek topics na pinapagawa sakin.

In the mean time, kelangan ko munang i-enjoy ang rest day na 'to. Red Horse, my love, cum to Papa!

Ahm...Bossing, alam kong lage kang dumadaan sa kuta ko. 'Wag ka sanang magalet. Tatapusin ko rin 'tong mga artikols mo sa takdang panahon. Sa deadliest deadline na binigay mo. Pramis 'yan. Mamatay man ang sperm cells ni Maldito.

Because I work best when I procrastinate and I orgasm with creative juices when pressured.

P.S.

Wag mo kong tanungin kung sino si Bossing. At wag mo rin akong kulitin kung pano maging isang freelance writer at kung magkano ang kinikita ko sa pagsusulat ng kung anu-anong shit na 'to. Andyan ang Intarnetz. Mag-Google ka, batugan.

*Photo Credit: www.macmcrae.com

Wet Dreams


Joke time muna tayo.

A rooster and a cat were seen going over the bridge together. All of a sudden, the cat slips and falls into the river. The rooster can't stop laughing.

Moral of the story? Whenever there's a wet pussy, there's a happy cock.

Nyahahahaha!

Hindi ka natawa? Hmmkei. Either pinanganak kang naiwan sa puke ng ina mo ang sense of humor mo o sadya lang talagang wala kang kahilig-hilig sa mga luntiang patawang tulad nito.

Ahm...Father Yas, mangungumpisal na po ule ako sa parokya mo. Lol!

Ba't ba kasi puro kabastusan kabasaan ang laman ng kukote ko ngayon? Takte. Eh ikaw ba naman ang magkuta sa Españang bahain, tingnan lang natin kung hindi magmistulang "wet pussy" ang dating mo niyan.

Hindi ako nakatulog kagabi dahil sa pukenginang kulog at kidlat at walang humpay na tulo ng ulan. Tae. Ba't ba lage na lang nagagamit ang mga salitang may double-meaning dito? Pasado alas dos ata nun nung bigla akong napabalikwas sa kama dahil akala ko may nakapasok na sa kuta ko para mag-photo shoot magdamag sa sobrang dami ng blinding flash sa hellish dormitory.

Sa puntong iyon, naisip ko bigla si Sarah Geronimo at ang kauna-unahan niyang sexy photo shoot sa FHM Magazine. Ang theme? Naughty colegiala sneaks into some all-guy's dormitory to have some fun.

Sarah G: [in skimpy FHM pictorial outfit] Hey there, boy. Wanna have some fun?
Lio Loco: [Bagong gising. Nilamukos ang mata at pinitik ang bayag para masiguradong hindi nananaginip.]
Sarah G: [Pumupungay-pungay ang mata] What's your name, Lover Boy?
Lio Loco: [Titingin sa kaliwa't kanan para masiguradong siya nga ang kausap ng babaeng gusto niyang anakan ng tatlong beses.]
Sarah G: [in a sultry, sexy voice] You make me go oompah-oompah...[kung anuman ang ibig sabihin ng oompah-oompah eh sa akin na lang 'yun.]
Lio Loco: [Wala pa ring masabi. Na-ooverwhelm sa presensiya ni SG.]
Sarah G: [Lalapit sa kama. Ilalapat ang mga kamay sa dibdib ni Lio Loco at pagkatapos eh dahan-dahang hihimasin ito.] Meoooowww...
Lio Loco: [Wala nang pakiyeme-kiyeme. Pagkakataon na 'to] Ngeyooooarrrrr!!!

Ulol. In your wet dreams.

Dahil ang photo shoot flash bulbs palang inaakala ko eh puro kidlat from outer space na may kasama pang maka-urong bayag na mga kulog. Oo na. Inaamin kong hindi ako masyadong tunay na lalake pagdating sa pakikipagtuos sa makabulag-titeng kidlat na 'yan. Ampotah. Ikaw ba naman ang tamaan ng isang giant spark from kalawakang kasing-init ng 30,000 degrees celsius, ewan ko lang kung hindi matusta ang bayag mong kulubot.

Trivia lang.

Alam mo bang ang nakakatakot na kulog eh dulot ng pagtama ng mas nakakatakot na kidlat sa ating katakut-takot na atmosphere? Okey payn. Hindi obyus na sobrang takot talaga ko sa kulog at kidlat. Dahil sa sobrang init ng giant spark na 'to eh nag-eexpand ang hanging natatamaan ng kidlat na siyang lumilikha ng shock wave na tinatawag nating kulog. 'Yun nga lang, medyo huli nating naririnig ang kulog sa kidlat because light travels way faster than sound. Comparison: 300,000,000 miles/second kontra 343 miles/second.

Salamat pala kay Pareng Wikipedia para sa walang kakwenta-kwentang impormasyong 'to. Haha.

Sa mga panahong tulad nitong walang humpay ang pagbuhos ng ulan, asahan mo nang bukas pagkagising mo eh nailipat na ang tubig ng Laguna de Bay papunta sa España, Maynila dahil sa sobrang lalim ng tubig-baha. Magkakagulo na ang mga tarantang tao sa paglikas ng kung anu-anong shit at mga batang hubad na masayang nagbabackstroke sa kahabaan ng Españang punumpuno ng kung anu-anong shit, mentras magkanda-inum-inom na sila ng tubig-bahang hinaluan ng kung anu-anong shit.

Eeeew to da highest lebel.

Sa puntong ito, wala ka nang ibang magagawa kundi tumunganga sa bintana at mag-abang ng mga chikas na stranded at patili-tili kapag natitilamsikan ng tubig-bahang pinakuluan sa kulantro. At gustuhin mo mang bumaba mula sa pagkakasalampak mo sa ikaapat na palapag ng hellish dormitoryong pinagkukutaan mo para alalayan si Miss Gandang Malaki ang Boobs, mas pipiliin mo na lang na ipaubaya sa mga tambay-kanto ang pag-tsansing pag-alalay dahil naalala mong mahirap palang magka-leptospirosis ngayon.

At dahil nga lahat ng pwedeng mapagkainan eh nalimas na ng tubig-baha, pagkakasyahin mo na lang ang sobrang kamahalang cup noodles na ibinebenta ng land lord niyong sugapa sa pera't magpapaka-Koreanong hilaw habang chinochopsticks ang Jjampong noodles with matching kupal sayaw from Third World hell. Dahil kumakalam na ang sikmura mo't nananakit na ang puson mo kakatingin sa mga estudyanteng bitches na nakatungtong sa kung anumang pwedeng tuntungang di abot ng kadiring baha.

Pati nga appointment ko (Naks! Appointment my ass!) eh kinailangan ko nang i-cancel dahil wala namang pwedeng masakyan. Di bale sana kung ako lage ang sinasakyan. Huhlolz! Paumanhin po ule Fr. Yas. Bigyan mo na lang kasi ako ng holy wine sa kumbento niyo at nang matigil na 'tong Boy Bastos na 'to. Lololol!

Haay, buhay nga naman. Kahirap talagang mamuhay dito sa Maynila. Kung hindi ka madiskarte, uuwi kang kulu-kuluntoy ang pagmumuka. Kung hindi ka sanay sa mga kung anu-anong shit dito, hindi ka talaga sisikatan pa ng araw. Kaya sige lang. Makipagpatintero lang hangga't kaya. Pasasaan ba't matataya rin 'yang pukenginang 'yan. No bounce, no play.

Mabuti na lang talaga day off ko ngayong araw na 'to.

*Photo credit: www.linophotography.com

Hindi 'To Porn Site, Mga Buwakanginang Malilibog Kayo!


Ikaw na himalang naliligaw ng landas dito, gusto kong magkaliwanagan tayo habang maaga pa't hindi ka pa nalululong sa kabalahuraang isinasatitik ko sa bulagspot na 'to.

Nais kong ipabatid sa'yo na ang lahat ng tinitipa ko sa mga cyber pahinang ito eh produkto lamang ng aking malagkit na pananawa at di miminsang pagkabagot sa napakabagal na pag-usad ng estado ko sa buwakanginang buhay na 'to. Kung hindi mo naitatanong, pangarap kong maging CPA topnotcher at pagkatapos eh mangibang bansa't yumaman at makapagpatayo ng mansyon sa Baguio't makapag-asawa ng kasingganda ni Sarah Geronimo, kung hindi man siya mismo ang makatuluyan ko sa hinaharap. Isa kang kahabag-habag na nilalang na mas masahol pa sa buhok sa puwet na natilamsikan ng bultokachi habang pawisan mong inilalaglag ang echas mong kasing-haba ng anaconda sa kasilyas kung sasabihin mo saking kuntento ka na sa kinalalagyan mo ngayo't wala kang matayog na pangarap sa buhay. Isa kang mamasa-masang libag sa singit ng lipunan kung nagkataong ganiyan nga ang panata mo sa buhay.

Sa kadahilanang mahiwagang am ang sapilitang ipinasuso sakin ng aking butihing ina nung ako'y walang hiyang naghuhubo't hubad pa lamang at walang pakialam kung makita man ng sansinukob ang lawit kong susuray-suray sa pagitan ng dalawang gusgusing betlogs ko noon, hindi maikakatuwa ang napakaraming tanong at kaangasang nalilikha ko nang di sinasadya rito sa makamundong ibabaw. Samakatuwid, wala kang pakialam kung halimbawang sabihin kong nasusuka ako sa pagmumuka ni John Lloyd Mongoloid dahil napapanot na siya at mala-Chicago Bulls ang butas ng ilong niya at hindi siya magandang ehemplo sa kabataan dahil nagpapakyu siya sa mga billboards ng Kamaynilaan. Wala ka rin dapat pakialam kung sabihin ko sa kutang 'to na lumalabas ang kinain kong pananghalian sa ilong kong matangos at mas maganda ang hubog kesa sa plakdang ilong ni JLC sa tuwing nakakakita ako ng mga taong bitbit sa kamay at ipinangangalandakang meron silang kopya ng putanginang Twilight na 'yan mentras magkandadapa-dapa na sila sa LRT at meron silang napakalaking backpack na maaari nilang pagsidlan ng buwakanginang one-hit wonder book na 'yan.

Ito ang napakalawak na mundo ng Intarnetz kung saan lahat ng tao eh may sariling tilamsik ng laway, hiningan man o sapilitang ipinagduldulan, sa kung anu-anong kabalbalan at idyosingkrasiya; ergo, base sa matandang kasabihang nagpasalin-salin sa sansinukuban -- to each, his own. Walang pakialamanan. Dun ka sa police station magreklamo.

Kaya naman ang mga kuru-kurong nababasa mo sa bawat blog post dito eh sa ganang akin lamang at kung sakali mang hindi ka sumasang-ayon sa mga nasusulat dito, malaya kang isara ang tab na 'to at ipagpatuloy ang pagda-download mo ng Maria Ozawa porn. Hindi kita pinipilit na sumang-ayon sakin at lalong hindi kita hinihikayat na maging kaanib ng kung anumang kultong maaaring itatag ni Lio Loco sa parehong katwiran na hindi ko maaaring pakialaman ang sarili mong kasalaulaan. Iyong iyo lang 'yan.

At kung sakali mang natawa ka sa mga pinagsasabi ko at humagalpak sa kinauupuan mo habang dinadaya mo ang kumpanyang pinag-alukan mo ng natatangi mong serbisyo sa pamamagitan ng pagiging tamad at di produktibo at pagkunsumo lamang ng kuryente habang pa-blog blog hopping ka na lang diyan sa opisina mo, isinusumpa ko ang araw na nahumaling ka sa walang kwentang kutang 'to. Hindi ko ginusto na maging dahilan ang pagsasatitik ng laman ng kukote ko sa unti-unting pagkalugi at tuluyang pagsasara ng kumpanya niyo dahil sa kainutilan mo. Kung halimbawa namang napabuntung hininga ka't napaisip nang malalim at napagtantong oo nga, may sense nga ang sinasabi ng batang bastardong 'to maski papano, ikagagalak kong dinaig pa ang lalakeng na-devirginize sa unang pagkakataon ang pagsapit ng pagkakataong iyon. Muli't muli, mapapangiti ako't mapapabuntung-hininga tulad mo dahil sa kabila pala ng mga kabulastugan at pagbabalahura ko rito eh may napupulot ka ring mga aral na maaari mong gamitin sa araw-araw mong pagbatak sa mga hamon ng buhay.

Konswelo de bobo ko na ang pag-click mo sa Google ads na nakakalat sa maliit na espasyong ito bilang kabayaran sa libreng pagbabasa ng panandaliang aliw sa tuwing maiisipan mong maging emo't butasin ang sarili mong sentidong parang si Kurt Cobain lang dahil buryong na buryong ka na sa kawalang direksyon ng buhay mo. (Oo, hindi obyus na kelangan ko ng saydlayn na mapagkakakitaan ngayon dahil wala na ang napakalaking tulong na night differential sa pagpuputa ko.)

Pero ang hindi ko matanggap eh ang maligaw ka ng landas sa pag-aakalang natatago rito ang walang patid na kalaswaang nagpapatibok ng mga ugat sa kung saan mang tagong parte ng katawan mo. Kung gusto mong maligayahan sa ibang paraang hindi abot ng hinagap ko, nagkalat sa mga bangketa't newsstands ang mga tabloid na namumutiktik sa lantarang pagbabalandra ng hubo't hubad na larawan ng mga pipitsuging starlet ng Ikatlong mundong nagbebembangan diyan.

Alam kong isa akong talentadong bata pero pakiusap lang, ipaunawa mo sakin ba't napadpad ka sa kutang 'to kung ang pakay mo lang pala eh maghanap ng "hot pinoy m2m"? Hindi kaila na meron ako nito pero kailangan mo ba talagang maligaw rito para maghanap ng "bayag" at "titing malaki"? Kung sa tingin mo eh malapit ka nang labasan o hindi kaya eh naghahanap ka ng parausan para mas madali kang malabasan, nagkamali ka ng pagkakapadpad sa blog na 'to dahil wala akong kabalahuraang isinatitik tungkol sa "cum" at kung papano mo uusalin ang mala-nirvanang "here i cum;" higi't lalong hindi ako bugaw para magpaskil dito ng "sexmate in manila."


Yaman din lang at naririto na tayo sa paglilinaw na 'to, ipinababatid ko rin sa TFC subscriber sa Malaysiang maaring naligaw ng landas dito na hindi po ako nag-upload ng video ng isang "maria ozawa backstroke fucking." Bagkus, ako pa nga sana ang hihingi ng pabor sa'yo na kung sakali ngang nakahanap ka na ng pwedeng pag-downloadan ng "maria ozawa backstroke fucking" na 'yan eh pwedeng balitaan mo naman ako't magkaroon din ako ng sarili kong kopya. Isa pang hirit: pwedeng paki-eksplika at -demonstrate sakin kung papano ginagawa ang "backstroke fucking"? Kelangan ba talaga eh nasa tubig-dagat o swimming pool ka sa mga oras na 'yan o pwede na ang water bed para maisakatuparan ang "backstroke fucking" technique?



Sa nilalang namang naligaw ng landas dito dahil sa paghahanap ng "maria ozawa tube," hindi kaya ikahiya ka ng kababayan mong Santo Papa na si Pope John Paul II, sumalangit nawa ang kaniyang kaluluwa, dahil sa kalibugang ipinapakita mo sa paghahanap ng hindi ko alam kung "youtube video ni Maria Ozawa" o ang "tube" mismo ng pamosong Japanese-Canadian porn sensation?


Speaking of Canadian, hindi ko alam kung si Kosa.Pogi ang nag-search nito sa Canada pero ano ang kinalaman ko sa isang"cum shot mamasa"?



At oo nga pala, ano ang ibig mong tumbukin sa paghahanap mo rito ng "anakan test translation" at "anakan blog translation," ikaw na talipandas mula sa Viva España? Nais mo bang magbakasyon dito at inihahanda mo na ang pakikipagtalastasan mo sa aming mga Indio? Kung ganun, ba't naman sa dinami-dami ng Tagalog na salitang maaari mong unang pag-aralan eh napili mo pa ang "anakan"?

Eto ang malupet. Ikaw na kalahi ni Bebe Gandang Hari o maaaring nagdadalaga pa lamang tulad ni Maximo Oliveros, anakngtitengmaugat ka naman sa pagkakadayo mo rito para lamang maghanap ng "batang bakla supot tite."

Inuulit ko. Hindi porn site ang bulagspot na 'to. Mga putanginang malilibog kayo!

Off-topic:

Ikalawang buwang anibersaryo ko na pala sa bulagspot na 'to bukas. Batang-bata pero natutuwa naman ako at maski papano eh patuloy na dumarami ang mga naliligaw ng landas dito. Woot woot! Hindi ko maipapangako dahil magiging busy na rin ako sa pagrereview ko para sa CPA Board Exams pero pipilitin kong dalas-dalasan ang pagpapaskil ng natatanging balahurang idyosingkrasiya ni Lio Loco. Sana umabot ang SSDD Boy ng marami pang taon at dekada hanggang sa apo na ng apo ko ang magsusulat ng mga kabulastugan dito. Good luck na lang kung uso pa nga ang blogging sa mga pagkakataong iyon. Mwahahaha!

Sa kaugnay na pangyayari, binabati ko pala si Lovely sa pagkakapanalo niya sa aking pautot na Mammary Awards dahil siya lang naman ang namumukod tanging nag-aksaya ng produktibo niya sanang oras para sumali't manalo ng Baguio freebies. Mangyari pong ipadala na lang ang address mo sa elektronikong liham tirahan ko - ssdd@i.ph. Hindi ko lang maipapangako kung kelan siya maipapadala sa'yo dahil punong abala pa rin ako sa mga kakailanganin ko sa pagre-review. Magkaganunpaman, ipinapangako ko naman sa'yong hindi matatapos ang buwan na 'tong hindi mo nakukuha ang premyo mo, hmmkei? (Kukunin ko pa ang mga 'yan akshuli kay Yanah na nag-hiatus daw dahil sa motherly duties and obligations pero may blog pa rin naman at pinalitan lang ang URL. Mwahahahaha!)

Para sa patuloy na pagyabong ng balahurang panulat ni SSDD Boy alyas Lio Loco at para sa patuloy ring pagdami ng mga ka-wavelength dito sa makamundong Pinoy sangkablogosperyohan, pati na rin sa naliligaw ng landas ditong nagsu-pseudo comment lang ng lecheng "Nice post, [link]", isang matagumpay na kampay ng astiging Pulang Kabayo sa ating lahat! Woot woot!

Postscript

Salamat pala kay Kikayness at sa dalawa pang blogger (na ayon kay Kikayness eh ni-nomina rin daw ako) na nagkamali ng pagpili para isama ako sa listahan nila ng Ten Influential Blogger ekek na umiikut-ikot ngayon dito sa makamundong Pinoy sangkablogosperyohan. Hindi ako mahilig sa mga ganitong award award ekek pero dahil andiyan na 'yan, paninindigan ko na. Salamas ng marami, mga ka-weyblent. Apir!

Canadian Brunettes With Perky Boobs Are Hotter Than Adamantium Claws (A Moview Review of X-Men Origins: Wolverine)


Nope, you're not mistaken. This is, indeed, a personal movie review of the much-hyped X-Men Origins: Wolverine, not some Third World porn blogging site posting pictures upon sick pictures of some nude women in all their lewd sexual positions. What you see on the left is an artistic shot (well, anything nude has always used the artistic excuse) of Lynn Collins, the actor who plays the Kayla Silverfox part in the movie, who is Wolverine's smokin' hot Canadian outlet for er...withdrawal of anger and Biogesic-induced migraines. So yeah, hear me sick sex perverts, the nude Kayla Silverfox heading this post is still tied up to this review apparently. Also, screw you for being more interested in the steamy photo than what I have to say regarding the movie itself.

I am penning this review not as some comic book geek who breathes and lives the Marvel Universe, reciting the names of every mutant imaginable with ease like The Lord's Prayer and discussing layers upon complicated layers of mythic X-Men lore but rather, as some regular dude who happens to be a certified couch potato raving or dissing films as he deems it fit and whose encounter with the epic comic book franchise goes only as deep as the memory of that X-Men TV series I've religiously watched during my pre-pubescent years sans the idiotic Tagalog dubbing, which is basically a good thing. (I mean, for chrissake, what exactly is the logic behind networks dubbing English cartoons in vernacular today? If anything, the gesture only implies how they're undermining the Pinoy viewer's intelligence; what douchebag A-holes these greedy corpo's are!)

So there we were, me and Binchee, my ever reliable drinking buddy-slash-call whoring teammate, going to the mall for some seemingly so-fuckin'-gay M2M date just because nobody else on the team would want to extend becoming adamantly awake and to watch the darn X-Men prequel (call whoring shift ended at 11AM, movie started at 2:30PM; do the Math). By the way, as I am already 15 hours awake beginning 12 MN last night, my apologies to the grammar OC readers for the typographical errors and glaring S-V disagreements and mediocre sentence run ons if there's any. I am, after all, writing this impromptu without the edits - the drooping eyelids temporarily abated by measly ounces of adamantium caffeine.

The problem with follow ups (be it prequel or sequel) of very successful movie franchises is that the film either ends up exceeding the expectations from a very loyal fanbase or it ends up falling flat on its face, receiving too much flak for gawd-knows-what reasons. It does not help that viewers are treated to very awesome, very cool, excellence par none trailers of next attractions prior to the actual flick runtime, thereby setting the mood to such comparable high demands and anticipations.

The abovementioned really really cool, really really awesome, really really coolawesome (wait...did I just create another adjective out of sheer, nerve-wracking excitement?) trailers I'm talking about are in the form of Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen and Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince. First, Transformers 2 promises a lot of gritty, first-rate machine mayhems between more Decepticons and Autobots. Second, judging by the epic display of eye-popping wizarding battles and jaw-dropping wand flicks, HB6 is love! Third, HB6 is love! And lastly, HB6 is love! Yeah, these are very rare instances when I take back what I said. I'm willing to be redundant to stress the point that HOLY FUCKIN' SHIT THE HB6 TRAILER IS SO AWESOME GAWDDAMN IT I CAN'T WAIT FOR JULY 18 HOLY FRACKIN' COW LOOK AT ALL THOSE INFERIS OH WOW OH WOW MY JAWS ARE DROPPING WITH ALL THOSE FREAKIN' MAGIC WAND SLASHING SWISHING CHURNING AVADA KEDAVRA STUPEFY RICTUSEMPRA HOLY SHIT SNAPE AND HIS "IT'S OVER" SNIPPET IS BLOODY CREEPY I WISH I WAS IN HOGWARTS WHAT THE FUCK I SOUND LIKE A MUGGLE RETARD YADDA YADDA YADDA.

HOLY SHIT HOLY SHIT HOLY SHIT HP6 IS COMING TO THIRD WORLD TOWN!

But I digress. The first few minutes in the opening credits set the tone for Wolverine's back story, building the pace of mutant-battles-his-own-mutant-existence plot. The war montage of how Wolverine and Sabretooth guard each other's back in one hellish piece of Commando action spanning four big battlefields (Civil War, World War I, World War II, and the Vietnam War) pretty much tells you how the two brothers (yes, much to my chagrin, they're brothers albeit with different surnames; what did I tell you about not being one hardcore X-Men fan?) are seemingly immortal mutants and toying on the idea of self-healing, how they end up in catfights over clawish catfights.

Between the two of them, Sabretooth undoubtedly possesses more of the animalistic blood and thereafter acts as one, which hauls both of them to Stryker's elite military group of mutants who will become America's arsenal of freakin' fighting machines. Still confused with fighting over his own demons, Wolverine pukes over the idea of becoming a killer to be a savior and becomes a Canadian hermit-slash-lumberjack, leaving the rest of the Stryker's skilled carousel freaks and eventually humping with a sex goddess girlfriend in the form of Kayla Silverfox (see nude photo above) in some some recluse mountain.

Here we see the not-too-original plot of "with great powers come great government usage" mantra. Stryker builds a not-too-ingenious plan of using Kayla Silverfox and Sabretooth to bait Wolverine from finally agreeing to be put to the Weapon X adamantium experiment. Kayla plays the part well in exchange of her sister's freedom and Sabretooth does the round-about killing spree in exchange of the adamantium claws itself, expounding the cliche of brothers getting jealous over what the other brothers have but they don't.

Sister, I soooo like your adamantium claws! Did you have that made through Gandang Mother Ricky Reyes?

From here, every piece of the rolling film becomes replays of fights over mutant fights of CGI proportions. Wolverine fights Sabretooth, Wolverine fights Agent Zero, Wolverine fights *surprise surprise* Gambit, Wolverine fights Sabretooth again, Wolverine fights botoxed and obesed obesed Blob, Wolverine fights Sabretooth some more, and finally, Wolverine culminates the hellish X-Men fighting over some Colossus arena with Weapon XI Deadpool (which leads me to asking: whatever happened to Weapons I to IX?; are Stryker's previous experiments total failures?).

While the actors' performance are quite commendable, their acting seems to have been overshadowed by the thinly thought-of plot, which lacks the complexities and rich-layered emotions present in other comic book films like say, The Dark Knight. As Zafra aptly puts it, there are really only a few plots in existence. X-Men Origins: Wolverine uses the Cain and Abel story, Frankenstein, and throws in a bit of Oedipus. Which is not to say entirely pathetic since for all I know, this is really how the Wolverine character grew and originated in the comic book-verse and the director only went as far as becoming faithful to the derivative. Again, let me reiterate that my knowing the entire X-Men saga is only as deep as the X-Men series I watched when I was a kid.

So yeah, if you're a regular dude who craves for belligerent badass CGI fight scenes of god-like powers, then this X-Men prequel won't disappoint. The mutant fight scenes are well-choreographed, the visual imagery are a rare eye-candy, and the special effects are worth the ticket. Oh and yes, you get a glimpse of Cyclops and Professor X, and some other mutants (I think I saw Toad in one cameo; or was it Nightcrawler?). Did I already mention Gambit played some parts for a reasonably long run time?

Ngeyoarr!!! Gimme that JLC and his fuckin' Biogesic commercial! I will shred that piece of hair-receding matinee idol to pieces!

If you're a flick geek though who almost always finds something wrong every after two minutes of the film's showing, meticuolously pointing out how Wolverine's devilish hair-do seems to be inconsistent or nitpicking on the multi-powered Deadpool's death of "that's it he gets decapitated by Wolverine's toaster-hot adamantium claws and he becomes a piece of dead mutant meat?" then I'd recommend to just download the ripped copy of the film, complete with the conspicuous strings and half-baked CGI.

Lio Loco's rating: Seven out of ten one-arm-amputated Wolverine plastic toy bust

Ngeyoarrr! Kids, don't try this at home. Accidentally cutoff my other arm during sleep! Ngeyoarr!

SPOILER WARNING: READING THIS POST PRIOR TO WATCHING THE MOVIE IS STRONGLY DISCOURAGED. BLOG CONTENT INCLUDE KEY PLOT SCENES THAT MAY BE DETRIMENTAL TOWARDS YOUR GETTING A SATISFACTION-GUARANTEED MOVIE VIEWING. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK. AT WHICH POINT, YOU MAY HAVE ALREADY READ THE ENTIRE REVIEW. SO YEAH. WHAT. THE. FUCK.


UPDATE

The film, apparently, had three alternate endings:

1. Stryker walks down the road with toes wounded and bloody (Before Silverfox died, she controlled Stryker to "walk until his feet bled" as opposed to just commanding him to pull the trigger on his head.). A military officer apprehends him for being responsible in one general's killing.

This is the ending that I saw during the movie.

2. Deadpool's hand is shown reaching from the rubble of the nuclear complex to touch his decapitated head, whereupon the head comes to life and makes a brief hushing sound before the scene fades to blackness.

This may be to indicate Weapon XI's further exploits in succeeding sequels of the movie.

3. Wolverine drinks in a bar in Japan and a woman approaches him. She asks whether he's drinking to forget; he responds, "to remember."

A clear indication that X-Men Origins: Wolverine's plot will have Japan as the setting. I was told that Wolverine sired a son in Japan in the original comic book story. This may be hinting at the movie closely following the comic book's story in future films.


Survey Says

On a more or less related note, here's the result of last post's survey regarding the best potential Hollywood blockbuster flick that people can't wait to see in the theaters:

1. Harry Potter and the Half-blood Prince (38%)

2. Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen (33%)

3. Angels and Demons (10%)

4. X-Men Origins: Wolverine (14%)

5. Dragon Ball Z Evolution (5%)

This week's survey (upper right-hand side) asks bandwidth bystanders to give their two cents' worth on which language would Lio Loco be most effective in this piece of Internet domain. Clicking is free so feel free to chip in your thoughts. Participation will be very much appreciated!

The Narcissistic, Angst-ridden Bastard’s English-Speak Goes in Hiatus For a Month-Long Asylum Rehabilitation


Naloko na. Dumami ang hits nang di sinasadya dahil sa nakaraang post ko. Sa katunayan, pumalo nang bonggang bongga ang pagsasatitik ko sa pagkahumaling sa KANIYA at biglang umakyat sa ikatlong pinakabinasa ang nakaraang blog post ko sa kasaysayan ng kagila-gilalas at namumukod-tanging walang kwentang blog na ‘to. Marami ang nagbigay ng kanilang singkong duling na payo at iisa lang ang sentimiyento ng lahat — isa na nga akong certified adeek na kailangang ipadala sa pinakamalapit na asylum. Nakakataba naman ng pototoy puso. Hayaan niyo, susundin ko ang payo niyo. Bukas na bukas din ipaparehab ko na ang sarili ko sa Mandaluyong.

Hindi ko alam kung dahil ito sa pagka-amnesia ko sa identidad kong fuck-me-Freddy spokening dollar at paggamit ng wikang Tagalog for a change o talagang likas lang na sucker ang mga Pinoy sa mga porn movies sappy lab istori. Dahil diyan, pinapaaga ko ang selebrasyon ng Buwan ng Wika at susubukan kong mag-post ngayong buwan sa dayalektong nakagisnan. At papano na si fuck-me-Freddy Lio Locong namumutiktik sa nosebleed na Ingles? Magbabakasyon muna siya ng isang buwan dahil sukang suka na siya sa araw-araw na pakikipagbatuhan sa wikang Ingles sa mga bopol na Kanong walang ginawa sa buhay kundi umatungal nang umatungal kapagka nawalan ng Internet connection. Wag mag-alala. Kung namimiss niyo ang mga malulutong na murang Kano ni Lio Loco, maaari kayong mag-request at sulatan siya sa email address niya: thessddboy@gmail.com. Rereplyan niya agad yung mga mensaheng may smiley sa dulo at may kasamang mwahugs I miss you to the nth power.

At yaman din lang na sukahan pala ang topic dito (asteeg ba ang segwey? hakhak!), gusto kong ipamalita na pumasok ako kanina sa pagkaputang trabahong bangag at may hang-over sa nilaklak na Fundador at San Miguel Beer. Bertdey ng tatay-tatayan ko kagabi at hindi pwedeng hindi ako uminom maski na kelangan kong gumising ng alas-kuwatro ng madaling-araw dahil may pasok pa ‘ko ng alas-sais kinaumagahan. Libre ang alak, umaapaw at siksik-liglig. Natural, kelangang pasairin sa bituka at baka maging tubig pa. May motto ako sa buhay na kapag ang palay ibinigay sa’yo ng kusa, kelangang bayuhin. Bahala ka nang mag-isip kung ano ang ibig kong pakahulugan.

Maige na rin sigurong nagpakalasing ako kagabi dahil sa kasalukuyan kong kalagayang napakahirap balewalain. Nanliligaw at umaasang makakamit ko rin ang matamis NIYAng oo pero hindi ko alam, mukang palabo nang palabo ang kahihinatnan ng lahat. Mas nagiging peligroso ang tinatatahak kong love path (at may nalalaman pa talaga kong love path…lol!). Padilim nang padilim. Patarik nang patarik. Cue nosebleed Tagalog adjective here.

Eto na ang panibagong update sa kabanata ng buhay pag-ibig ni Lio Loco:

Kagabi lang eh swak na swak ang timing ko sa pagdalaw sa KANIYA dahil hindi SIYA nag-OT at hindi rin SIYA gumimik kasama ang barkada NIYA. Salamat po Panginoong Mahabagin. Kung ganito nang ganito ang mga binabalato Niyo po sakin, babawasan ko po ang kasalanan ko at pipilitin ko pong pigilan ang paghuhumindig ng aking you-know-what sa tuwing natatabi ako sa mga seksing chikas sa dyip. Ilalayo ko po ang sarili ko sa tukso at pipilitin ko pong wag mag-isip ng kung anu-anong posisyon sa loob ng sasakyan bukod sa pagkakasalampak ko sa harapan. Amen!

Hindi ko alam kung matutuwa ba ‘ko talaga sa pagkakaron ko sa wakas ng pagkakataon para tumaktiks sa KANIYA o kelangan kong magluksa sa nalaman kong balita galing sa KANIYA. Eto marahil ang sinasabi nilang bitter-sweet. Bitter sapagkat nalaman kong mas mapapaikli pa lalo ang panahong maaari ko SIYAng bisitahin. Sweet dahil nagkaroon kami, maski papano, ng bonding moment. At oo, hindi ko ikakailang kiniliti pati buhok sa tumbong ko sa mga pangyayari kagabi sa parehong dahilang nanlumo ako sa sinabi NIYA.

Kelan lang eh pinabatid na NIYA sa bisor NIYA ang pagreresign sa trabaho at malamang sa malamang, hanggang ngayong buwan na lang ang paglalagi NIYA rito sa Maynila. Tinanggihan na NIYA ang offer sa KANIYAng lateral transfer sa probinsiya dahil sa March pa epektibo ang paglipat pag nagkataon. Nasabi NIYA saking gusto na NIYAng lumuwas dahil iyon daw ang gusto ng mommy NIYA. Tinanong ko kung iyon din ba ang gusto NIYA. Mas maige raw kung magkakasama na silang magkapamilya.

Pakshet! Tagos na tagos! Nabilaukan ako sa pizzang dinala ko at hindi ko alam kung hanggang doon na lang ba ang lahat. Subukan mong maglaslas nang million, million times tas patakan mo ng kalamansi. Mas mahapdi pa run naramdaman ko sa mga oras na yun. Sa probinsiya, hindi ko na siya makikita. Hindi naman kasi ako filthy rich na sa sobrang yaman eh makakaya kong pumaroo’t parito na parang naglalakad lang sa kahabaan ng España. Take note na sa mga panahong iyon, ala na ko sa pagpapakaputa sa Makati. Wala na kong sahod at isa na kong palamunin ng utol ko, nagrereview para sa CPA Board Exam. Pwede pa siguro ang tawag sa Sun Cellular. Eh ang kaso, sasagutin ba NIYA ang mga pangungulit ko? Buntung-hininga. Buntung-hininga times two.

Ayokong panghinaan ng loob dahil alam kong kapagka sumuko pa ko ngayon, wala na. Hindi na mauulit ang pagkakataong ito at malamang sa malamang eh hindi na talaga magiging kami pa sa hinaharap. Eto na ang last chance ko. If I fail this time, patay na. Papatulan ko na ang mga babaeng nalilink sakin nang bonggang bongga, hindi ko man sila mahal at gusto ko lang silang anakan. Kaya nga ayokong sumuko maski na napaka-slim na ng chances ko para mapasagot ko SIYA. Tulad ng mantra ng paborito kong PBA team, never say die. I therefore conclude, to be or not to be.

Dahil gumagabi na at kailangan pa NIYAng mag-beauty rest, umuwi na rin ako pagkatapos ng konting chitchat. Masayang malungkot akong lulan ng dyip kaya mas ganado ang pag-tungga sa bertdey alak ng tatay-tatayan ko. Masaya sa bahay. Kelangan kong maki-ayon sa mood at magsuot ng maskarang patawa. May konting handaan at napakaraming yabang mula sa kupal na utol ni Tatay. Hindi ko na iisa-isahin. Ang post na ‘to ay para sa pagdadalamhati, para sa napipintong pagluluksa. Wala munang pagpuna sa mga hinayupak na nilalang na gustung-gusto kong tirising parang pulgas ng aso.Wala munang mga epal. Pasensiya, pessimist na talaga ko ever since. Bali-baliktarin mo man ang mundo, half-empty pa rin ang shot glass na kalahati ang lamang alak para sakin.

Sa ikalawang pagkakataon, uminom ako ng hard nang wala man lang chaser. Mapait. Humahagod sa bituka. Sakto. Para naman maski papano eh malapatan ng pait ng alak ang ibang klaseng pait na kumikitil sa ulirat ko. Laklak lang ng laklak maski na bangenge na sa dami ng alak na sumaid sa lalamunan. Kaya ako late ng 30 minutes kanina at pumasok nang mas masahol pa sa pokpok na ginang-rape ng pinagsama-samang kumpol ng tao sa inauguration ni Obama. Haha! At ipinasok pa talaga ang current events para kunwaring updated sa showbiz happenings. Pero totoo, para ‘kong buntis na naglilihing maya’t maya eh di mo malaman kung duduwal ba o hindi. At oo, pihadong basag na naman pagmumuka ko sa team leader namin. Bumaba na nga metrics ko, apektado pa pati pagpasok ko.Tsk tsk tsk.

Haay, ang hirap talaga mainlab. Nawawala ka sa sarili mo. Natutuliro. Nagiging emo. Umu-OA. Nagmumukang tanga to the nth level. Pakshet na buhay ‘to, oo.

Smoke for the Vaginismus-Afflicted Bitch from Hell and Mirrors for the Narcissistic, Angst-ridden Bastard That is Me


I cannot, for the love of gawd, fathom why this country is reeking of flagrant bitches and stupid assholes to the point that you’d rather they die moaning heart attack while doing the meat shindig. Coming in close second would be wishing they get afflicted with a severe case of vaginismus or penile shrinkage. That will shut their cum-filled senseless, pathetic orifices.

So, yes, I am ranting yet again because these patheity-personified creatures give me more than enough reason to vent out R18 invectives. Allow me to roll out the rundown:

A few days ago, I took the PVP Bus Liner bus to go home after yet another SSDD at my call whoring job. I was alone because, Essie and Binchee, my teammates who take the same route and the same PUV, had another hour to slave away and wait for some clusterfuck call overseas before they get to logout of their AVAYA phones; I, on the other hand, was one hour early as my shift started at 7AM whereas theirs began at 8AM. Sweet!

I had one of the entire three-person-accommodating seats to myself and yes, Essie and Binchee, I will not lie in telling you that I was half-delighted to own the seat alone. No standing up to get some coins out of the pocket because the seat can hardly give us comfort, no unnecessary elbowing to squish ourselves in, no sigh of relief and/or aghast pfft for miraculously fitting three fine specimens of human in the bus couch. Kidding.

On second thought, I think I missed the mundane what’s ups and what nots we share to while away the traffic time. All those schlong talks and wondering over whether Jessica, indeed, owns that Zafra Motor Works we always pass by, all the Coffee Bun-flavored dialogues I covet a bit. A bit. Let not the slight showing of liking for human interaction be stretched. I am an introvert after all. Haha!

So I spread my legs apart like I am about to whip out my above-average dick to do some wanking and read one of Neil Gaiman’s incredible hort stories while relishing the bacteria-smooching bus airconditioning. Gawd, this guy really knows his stuff; every time I read one of his works I can’t help but be dumbfounded over the engaging quirkiness of his narratives, thereby posing helplessly like a drooling retard waiting for a shit-dipped fly rest in his wide-open mouth. Someday, I’m going to be a Gaiman myself, oh yes, read my fuck-me-Freddy lips!

It is in this Gaiman-adulating stance that I find myself getting fucked up yet again by a tortuous episode borne out of the Reality TV douchebag blurs for just at my back are three descendants of the Blairbitch clan happily munching over sex and penis measurement diatribes. You would think that the bus being a public form of transportation, people inside it would find the decorum and shame to keep their pathetic I-am-the-apple-of-the-fuckin’-universe’s-eyes talks well within themselves, careful not to disturb their nearby seatmates. I, for one, do not care whether you screwed your neighbor’s wife last night and felt manly over her confession that your schlong was far more superior than her husband’s pototoy. To each his own and trifling things like this do not excite me at all.

But, then again, it would be a different story when, in a voice that sounds like you eat megaphones for breakfast, someone blares forth how many dicks she has nonchalantly permitted to log in and log out (my apologies for incorporating call center terms..lol!) of her stinking orifice to half of the bus passengers aboard. Here was this promiscuous woman (I suspect she was in her early twenties judging by her voice and her use of “ampotah” and “tangina” repeatedly) who found there’s nothing wrong with broadcasting her sex life escapades to the general public, by the by laughing like a mad hyena along with her two equally-pathetic bozo friends – one laughing the loudest among the three without any trace of disapproval or shame, like she can never have side stitch because she has all the love handles this Belo-conscious society could offer; and the other giggling hard like Betty Boop just the same, to think that he is a man with that masculine bass voice (or is really a he?).

I would not have minded them had they kept their stupid fits to themselves alone but no, whether I liked it or not, I had to be dragged to the entire sexcapade hysteria because of their reverberating dialogues, thereby making me a reluctant eavesdropper of sorts. Here’s the transcribed Sex 101 of the perverted retards of the Blairbitch clan:

Girl Number 1: Ang sakit ng keps ko. Ahahaha!
Girl Number 2: Ahahaha! Baka nasobrahan mo.
Pa-girl Number 3: Oo nga. Baka di ka na makalakad niyan pauwi. Ahahaha!
Girl Number 1
: Tangina! Uulitin pa namin ni Rey mamaya. Ahahaha!
Girl Number 2: Ahahahaha! Akala ko ba meron ka ngayon?
Girl Number 1: Gaga! Oo naman no. Yun nga ang mas masarap. Yung mamasa-masa. Ahahaha!
Pa-girl Number 3: Ahahaha! Di ba kayo nagsasawa?
Girl Number 1: Tangina kasi. Ang liit ng kaniya. Bitin. Hindi katulad nung kay Carl. Ahahaha!
Girl Number 2: Maliit lang yung kaniya? Ano ba yan! Ahahaha!
Girl Number 1: Sabi ko nga nung isang araw “O ayan, ayaw naman. Wag na.” Tas yun na pala yun. “Ay, yan na ba yun?” Kakapiranggot. Ampotah! Ahahaha!
Pa-girl Number 3: Ahahaha!
Girl Number 1: Tas sabi pa niya, gusto niya raw magka-baby sakin. Panong magkaka-baby ako, eh hindi nga umaabot sa loob. Tangina. Ahahaha!
Girl Number 2: Ahahaha! Ano ba yan. Di ba ang laki ng katawan nun?
Girl Number 1: Oo nga. Nag-gi-gym kasi kaya ganun. Maliit. Ahahahaha!
Pa-girl Number 3: Ahahahaha! Eh bat gusto mo pa rin siya?
Girl Number 1: Kasi ano siya, iba siya eh. Pag niyayakap niya ko, alam mo yung may something. Basta.
Girl Number 2: Eh si James?
Girl Number 1: Ah si James, ano naman yun. Yung kaniya mataba. Ahahaha!
Girl Number 2: Ahahahaha! Talaga? Gano kataba?
Girl Number 1: Oo. Ano siya, mataba na di naman kalakihan. Normal lang. Yun. Matabang normal lang. Ahahaha!
Pa-girl Number 3: Eh yung kay Rey, maliit na payat? Ahahahaha!
Girl Number 1: Tangina! Kung pwede nga lang hilain ko eh. Ahahaha!
Girl Number 2: Ahahahaha!
Girl Number 1: Uy, ano ba yan. Ang ingay-ingay naman natin. Panay titi pa pinag-uusapan natin. Ahahaha!
Girl Number 2: Ahahahaha!
Pa-girl Number 3: Ahahahaha!

So now, tell me, how in the fuckin’ world can you engrossingly peruse over a story of a young man doing a boring clerical job who for some unknown reason, wakes up one morning vomiting a puke consisting of an unchewed dog paw and little fingers presumably of a small child among others? I couldn’t. And while I was contemplating over transferring to another fuckarow-free zone, I happened to finally have arrived at my destination. I stood up, tuck Neil Gaiman’s Smoke and Mirrors in my black Girbaud shoe bag, and alighted from the bus without looking at the three A-holes from Third world hell.

On second thought, I’m curious about the bitch’s puzzled reaction if I instead looked back before alighting from the vehicle, unzipped my fly, whipped out my above-average schlong and slapped it on her face saying, “Miss, stop whining over your boyfriend’s short dick. You could have this instead.” LOL!

Postscript:

Speaking of dicks and R18 taboos, you might find this Jessica Zafra post amusing. Haha!

Ahhh….You Give Us Inebriating Orgiastic Moans, Eva Fonda.


Meme Question: What do clusterfuck corporate-enslaved bastards well within their early twenties normally do during their supposed grace-period-from-hell day off?

Meme Answer: They drink their guts out until they become inebriated like a drunken Shaolin master and salivate over one smokin’ piece of crotch in primetime TV.

First off, before you accuse us of how fuck-me-Freddy sex perverts me and my gang are, I would like to give a clarification. We only met the oh-so-yummy jeezuz-christ-can-I-please-fornicate-with-you sultry coitus goddess Cristine Reyes by accident, and not because we’re porn maniacs with hidden raping tendencies. Allow me to explain:

Me and my drinking buddies, a small clique of dead tired, underpaid Third world employees, rarely get together because we have our own bitchin’ priorities to whine our day with. Some are desperate, first time father figures who tend to become startled and disturbed whenever their just-born princess lets out a commanding what-the-heck-are-you-looking-at-can’t-you-see-I-need-milk cry; others are incarcerated boring yuppies busy slaving their way to the corporate ladder and in the process, are fast-becoming lifeless drones; and still, some are narcissistic bastards alternately preoccupied between living out the dignitary family man title from hell, polluting the Internet bandwidth with idiosyncratic whines, and fiddling with their woody wanker digging their graves through graveyard-shift jobs.

It is then something to celebrate about whenever this band of brothers find a coherent, common thread to get together and spend the time just raving and ranting over things mundane and philosophical. They are aware that occurrences such as this happen only once in a fuckin’ blue moon and thus, the imperative for some kick ass celebration. By celebration, I mean merry-making over some round table with Red Horse booze oozing with ant-sized cold sweat and slender GSM bottle necks to give you company.

So we had the dinner table arranged into some friggin’ booze haven where ambrosia and demigod liquor descended from Olympus and sat around like some rugby kids eager to grab their toxic addicting supply. We couldn’t breathe out cryptic Paraluman and other OPM melodies courtesy of Eman’s guitar prowess though as we were located in the 3rd floor of some clusterfuck apartment near España.

A digression: Just last year, during my birthday celebration, our extreme hilarity and merriment was abruptly suspended by some howling reprimand coming from an irate next-door neighbor. The old woman, who I suspect has never orgasmed over a phallic organ and will die as a never-has-been-fucked spinster, spoke in that oddly accented English that would remind you of that Bb. Pilipinas booboo and told the already tipsy booze lovers that “we are naht inna fow-rest, we are inna bell-ding!!!” (with emphasis on the exclamation points). I suspect she spoke in the American language, albeit in a horrendous enunciation at that, to impress upon us the kind of breeding she has acquired in her coitus-denied existence. The fuckin’ bastards we were, and not being impressed over her pseudo-refined upbringing, we said sorry but continued to hark strings upon strings of our brash youth’s music out and loud. And yes, her one liner was our favorite butchering subject for a week.

So avoiding the same unhealthy next-door-neighbor relations we once had and believing that one day, we will fall into the trap of coveting thy neighbor’s love-to-be-fucked wife; we opted to drink this time sans the guitar strumming. Which explained why our libidos torpedoed in alarming heights that night:

The best thing about drinking in front of the boob tube is the observation that when you and your mates have run out of things to bash about, there are always the TV’s innards to dissect. This time around, between gulps of cold Red horse booze, we kept on changing channels in the fucked up yet-to-cabled TV to find some gawddamn sensible program that would not insult our intelligence and look what we happened to chance upon. While I could say that our neuron-rich heads were not insulted, I would have to confess that it’s the “other” head that got into trouble. We managed to stumble upon primetime TV’s new coitus symbol and boy, did we get mum! Mum as in dead silent, where all you can hear are TV soap’s moans from two characters making out in the rock-hard bamboo-stringed bench and the clearing of throat of the person sitting next to you. Suddenly, you notice that nobody’s talking anymore and your groin, much to your mortification, becomes beefed up and bloated. You become uneasy in your seat, hushing your trouser snake from revolting lest someone notices it and christens you by the Totoy Tigas moniker. You crouch like Ang Lee’s famed Oscar tiger, hurt and aching, because that glorious part of your pelvic region is stiffening and wants to stab Eva Fonda’s clit.

And then the game begins: The first person who stands up and goes to the CR, after secretly drooling over Cristine Reyes’s subtly peeked cleavage and watching her in various stages of undress, will definitely earn the mocking accusations that he will release the heat in the form of self gratification. You can have no excuse at all. They will not buy the reason that you already drank too much liquor and you need to take it out of your gallbladder or else. They will just taunt you and jeer at you and call you names like the Great Masturbator this side of the planet. And so you remain with them, you remain lusting for Eva Fonda and her huge twin knockers, you remain hankering after her smooth legs and the much-desired cunt in between them, you remain watching Cristine Reyes in all her naked glory and half-wishing, half-hoping you were reprising Baron Geisler’s role instead. You remain because you are one normal guy with sexual urges and coitus convulsions. And for the love of gawd, you remain for them to prolong the agony of your already crumpled prick.

So this was how we chanced upon the new primetime TV star, one inebriated night when libidos were spurtingly orgasmic and furrowed groins were crouchingly aching. This was how this drunken bastard gang met and bonded once in a fuckin’ blue moon.

Geez…I only hope this MTRCB Laguardia keeps blind over the subtle hints of pornography. Because Eva Fonda is giving us inebriated orgiastic moans and we’re not even complaining. Now, that’s one early Christmas wish!

*Meme – a colloquial term that means anything that is unimportant and irrelevant but you still take notice of it anyway for lack of anything better to do; e.g. meme surveys (those out-of-the blue, random questions that you are asked to answer) abound in Friendster bulletins

Congratulations Me: Certified Call Center Whore!



November 27, 2008 (ignore the date; this letter was just given to me yesterday)

Lio Loco

Technical Support Representative

America’s Fastest Internet Service Provider (and the Chosen ISP of Hollywood Stars, if I may add; yes, we talk to A-list celebrities in America - Jennifer Lopez, Brad Pitt, Bruce Willis just to name a few; one of the few consolations of being an ISP Tech Support rep)


Dear Lio Loco,


Congratulations! We are pleased to inform you that you have achieved regular employment status in the company, effective December 8, 2008.


As a result of your successful performance reviews during your probationary employment, you are definitely on your way to building your career in Makati’s Highest Compensating Call Center Company.
Your passion for performance and drive for success are fundamental to the Company’s vision of becoming best in class with its people, partnerships and performance.

Thank you and, again, welcome to Makati’s Highest Compensating Call Center Company family!


Sincerely,

Makati’s Highest Compensating Call Center Company


Geez! Isn’t my company so fuckin’ sweet to sugarcoat the fact that after six friggin’ months of being enslaved every night in a red swivel chair in front of an idiotic lifeless circuit of motherboards and RAMs and talking some technical gibberish in a fake American accent to some dumb Occidental on the other side of the globe to avoid being called an Indian (For call center agents, that’s the foulest, vilest, ugliest taunt you’d never wish your customer would hurl at you by the way; and of course, that’s something I haven’t been branded with in my entire, almost 20 months of call center experience! Ha! Puh-leaze!), I am still in Makati’s Highest Compensating Call Center Company andstill kicking ass at that!

Oh yes, Virginia, money is a great motivator I tell you. I have endured this sissy clusterfuck Twilight novel vampire lifestyle of being a yadda-yadda nocturnal contact agent because of the moolah that comes with it. Had it not been for the five-digit salary that I get every 15th and 30th of the month, I would have long been gone to this odd job that curtails your right to live a fuckin’ normal life. Since I was burdened with a “social responsibililty” that needed urgent attention after graduating from college, I had to make a choice between practicing the profession that I studied for more than four years or jumping into the burgeoning call center business back then. At that time, I was still the next door, giddy-two-shoes good boy, not the clusterfuck narcissistic, angst-ridden bastard that I am today. Naturally, my priority was the social responsibility over personal ambition so I picked the “call boy” offer and put my CPA ambitions in the backseat. Which brings me to this whining, drowning abyss that I am wallowing in right now.

As I’ve mentioned in my previous post, the moment you sign the call center contract the sly, backstabbing HR hands you, you must be aware that by affixing your signature in the paper you are giving away your freedom and right to a healthy lifestyle, family bonding, and romantic relationships. You have to accept and be aware of the things you have to unwillingly compromise - time, friends, sex, relationship, romance, gimmicks, family, lifestyle. These are the words that will have to be deleted in your vocabulary. Where before, you have the luxury of unlimitexting friends and fiends for carefree what’s ups and what nots, now all you can do with the ticking clock is make it sufficient for a sleep-eat-work life cycle. And if you can still get away with an eight-hour dozing, then you’re already lucky. ‘Cause anything below that is considered just normal.

So just in case you have plans of jumping into this call center bandwagon, allow me to help you think a hundred times and decide rationally lest you bang your head in the wall later after you’ve been caught donning the suit of this freakin’ much ballyhooed job of supposedly high stature. When you become a call center agent, be prepared to:

  • Destroy your body clock. You come to work at night when a hot and steamy sex action between your two, horny as hell cohabiting next-door neighbors is in the offing everybody is oh-so-fuckin’-drooling in their beds like some naïve retard and you sleep during daytime, when a slew of PUVs keep honking their horns like mad during rush-hour traffic (Fuck these imbecile drivers! What good exactly does blaring horns do in the middle of traffic mayhem? Can it cut the queue short? No, it just annoys everybody else and starts a domino-effect barrage of more irritated drivers honking their horns as well. So go screw your neighbors’ mothers’ diaper-laden cunt you clusterfuck bastards!).

  • Violate one of the sacred Ten Commandments of God. Expect that even during Saturdays and Sundays, you’re doing the call center work treadmill. Gone are the days when you could go out and live out the cliché of smelling the roses and bathing in the glorious Sunday sun. Dream on because rarely will you get weekend offs. So you write an apology to gawd for being an atheistic sonuvabitch and make a bargain to move the Sabbath during your days off instead. Of course He won’t budge because you’re an insignificant, lowly nothing unworthy of the divine favor, so you either cut your throat and find your name in the next day’s obituaries while we go on with our oh-so-boring, rule-conforming lives because again, you’re just an insignificant little twit or you stop your motherfuckin’ whining and content yourself with a fuck-me-Freddy weekday off.

  • Lose your virginity pseudo-existing love life. Unless the freakin’ rotten apple of your narcissistic eye is also a call center whore, you can never have a healthy give-and-take romance with your beau, hence your partner’s irrevocable tendering of resignation to a one-sided nurturing. I mean, for chrissake, how could a relationship work out when both of you are living different worlds? She’s available at day time, she texts you those cheesy, mundane one-liners asking whether you’ve already eaten or did you already shit or are you masturbating your underprivileged joystick to eternal damnation and by which time, you’re already releasing your orgiastic moans while doing a one night stand with Megan Fox in your wildest dreams. On the other hand, when you are wide awake at night, she’s already feeding her slit with a black dildo in her night gown surrounded by her autistic teddy bear bunnies. Now tell me, how could that kind of topsy turvy setup work?

  • Become the next shameful clone of Betty La Fea-slash-The Grinch (forgive me, I couldn’t think of any better male version of the ugly boob tube icon). Yes, you read that right. Unless you have been blessed with good Piolo Pascual or Angel Locsin physique, chances are your already hideous looks will slowly diminish at its lowest primeval form and you risk your life and limb for being stoned to death by your next-door neighbors for mistaking you as that Zafra-chronicled manananggal that terrorized Manila. You see, working in a call center puts on those horrendous crow’s feet, hollow eye spots, puffy eye bags, and wretched wrinkles in your face without your approval. Graveyard shift gives that gift to you; it’s a good thing then that I was given good genes! Haha! Half-kidding. But seriously, if by any chance, you get terminated sooner than you’ve been expecting, at least you still have the fallback of auditioning for any small Zorayda-slash-Bentong laughingstock part. I had this teammate back when I was stll in cool and comfy Baguio and he was always jeered and mocked behind his back because he looked like the real-life version of Master Splinter. He was monikered Ratatouille not only because he looked exactly like a shrunken, sickly rodent but also because he had this long front teeth that oddly reminded you to brush your teeth everyday or else, and a mouth reeking with the foulest halitosis that was ever recorded in the call center history. Oh fuck-me-Freddy, I’ve always prayed hard not to get a seat beside him every night back then, much more use his stinking headset piece by mistake. So call center wannabe’s, just a piece of advice: if you’re ugly as hell and you’ve always been taunted that you looked like Kampanerang Kuba when you were child, fuck your biased mom for telling you that you’re just as beautiful as she’s expected you to become and please, for the love of gawd, don’t venture into this kind of job. You’re only inviting more fuckarows in your already fucked-up life.

  • Slowly lose contact to the outside world. Honestly, when I became a call center agent, getting at least eight hours of sleep is already a miracle that happens only once in a blue moon. You’re shoving the wrong notion up your ass if you think being a call center agent is easy and glamorous because these hydrocephalic creatures are doing a heavy workload as heavy, if not heavier than, as that of an underpaid construction worker. (A digression: Yes, I admit it, most call center agents are really friggin’ airhead sonuvabitches - an observation that I condemn because there’s actually nothing that they should brag about; I mean, c’mon call whores, just because you can speak straight English and earning the best compensation package in the corporate macrocosm does not give you any motherfuckin’ right to walk with swagger in the streets and to feel like you’re the king and queens of social hierarchy, bitchin’ and belittling every bystander you come across with in your put-on American English accent. Truth is, your shit is as stinking and your fart is as noxious as those ascaris-infested beggars in the slums so go find some freakin’ decency and humility in your cabinet.) Yes, we only sit for the entire nine-hour duration but that’s even causing more mental stress than say, carrying pieces of lumber for the whole afternoon. You use your neurons because you’re interacting with a person, someone who is complex and has an arsenal of different emotions in the bag ready to be triggered. Just imagine then how doubly tiring that is if you’re talking to 25 different Americans a night (my personal average so far, by the way) with hidden tendencies of becoming the next Dexter. I tell you it’s nuts and the stressful call interaction is much, much worse than doing menial labor.

‘Nuff said. If you are still persistent though, then by all fuckin’ means, go ahead and meet your suicidal doom. I am cautioning you however to take more than the usual dose of in-your-face guts, revolting determination, and fuck-me-Freddy patience because you’ll badly need it. Call center is not for the faint-hearted. It’s for people whose middle name is Patience in cases where granny customers call and end up thinking you can see the content of their computer monitor just because you tell them that a black screen should pop up after typing cmd in the Run box (”Ooh! You’re good. How do you know I have a black box open? So you see my computer screen, don’t you?”). It’s for the lion-brave, thick-faced bastards and bitches who vent out profane-loaded revolting statements of “Go stroke your fornication-hungry chicken sir, you motherfuckin’ clusterfuck!” do not get pissed off whenever the caller becomes irate and start a verbal offensive of R18 obscenities. And by the way, I did tell you that you have a good command of the English language to meet the cut, right?

It’s an unusual, difficult work, yes, what with all the precious things you have to compromise and unwilling sacrifices you have to make. But then again, the perks are more than enough to keep your whiners out in the dust. I am currently in an account that compensates fairly well. If you make good, they will give what’s due for you. That means a lot of across-the-board incentives and bonuses on top of your basic pay. And besides, with the current rate of unemployment insanely ballooning to a nine-month Juno pregnancy proportion, beggars can’t be choosers.

So I remain loyal to my odd job, bearing with all the crap, learning to love it, or at least like it, even if it’s the farthest job description my course could be attached to. Pledging allegiance means knowing how to deflate the hot air in your irate customer’s head, how to be a virtuous man to an old-slash-drunk-slash-deaf-slash-physically-impaired customer, and how to keep your cool even if you feel like busting the phone into the hell-cursing Johnny Doe’s head.

And at times when I’m on the verge of already pulling the call center trigger, I keep playing the Bill Gates-rich Lio Loco image inside my head and tell myself that this is just ephemeral. Hang on there, double douche bag sonuvabitch narcissistic bastard, the best is yet to come.