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Today I am taking a break from retardery and updating you about my latest embarrassment and/or sexual misdemeanour by showing you the greatest thing that was ever invented. No, it’s not the wheel, or even the combustion engine. Atomic bomb? Not even close. Beer? Well, beer’s important, but not close.

Ladies and gents, I present the amazing laptop-humping dog:

You may stare at it for a while and wonder what the heck does it do. Does it save your files? Does it cure cancer? Does it work as a contraceptive? Does it hack into the pentagon’s computer system and start off a thermodynamic nuclear war? More »

I swear, condom-buying is already as stressful as it is: you have to walk around the store pretending to be buying something totally unrelated, hence you have to pick up random shit like deodorants and paper clips and toenail clippers and toothpaste and merely pretend to stumble upon the condom by accident in case that hot girl you’ve been eying the moment you walked into the store has been looking at you and think that you’re a perv.

Then you have to lug around your totally unnecessary stuff which you will have to shell out a few hundred bucks for, and when the clerk scans your stuff and gets to the condom, she’d guffaw like crazy, point at you, and with her loud loud voice, announce to the entire shop that you just bought a condom, and unbelievable as it sounds because you look a little like John Candy with a creepy pedo-beard, you’re going to get laid. Finally. More »

When you ask me what my favorite movie is, I’d probably stay quiet for a while and give you some pretentious artsy shit like City of God, or even the incomprehensible Babel to impress you. And if you happen to possess a vagina, I’d probably even name Orson Welles and Akira Kurosawa as my favorite directors so I can get into your pants, even though my only experience with these directors was when I snored through Citizen Kane and when I wanked off at the rape scene in Rashomon. (Shut up. 1950’s Japanese rape scene is STILL a Japanese rape scene.)

Yeah, I name all those films I can even barely understand so I can pass off as an artsy dude who gets all the ladies who swoon at a film freak. So far, I managed to nail one: Joan, the girl who sells popcorn at the Cineplex in SM San Lazaro, and she technically doesn’t have a vajajay. Also, Joan may or may not be her real name. For all we know, it might be “Juan”, but I refuse to elaborate any further. More »

It’s been quite a while since we heard from my Inner Child, haven’t we? I honestly don’t know what to do with this next Inner Child Therapy session since I haven’t been emo and shit lately. I know, I know, the reason you return to this blog is that you wanna read up on my failures and now that I don’t carry a shitful of emo around my blog is extremely pointless to read.

Just to prove my point, here’s my traffic lately:

See the downward slope? That’s you people, telling me that my blog is useless without me documenting my many failures in life.

You guys suck.

Anyway, here’s me and my Inner Child, going at each other’s throats as usual. I swear, If he wasn’t all imaginary and subconscious-y, I’d have beaten him up a long time ago.

INNER CHILD: Oh crap, don’t tell me you wanna talk to me again.
ME: Oh yes I do. You see, I totally need you this time.
INNER CHILD: You always need me. But where the fuck are you whenever I need help?
ME: Look, when did you ever ask me for-
INNER CHILD: That’s not the point. The thing is you’re never there when I need help because-
ME: Again: you have never asked me for help. Not once.
INNER CHILD: Again: that is not the fucking point.
ME: …
INNER CHILD: What?
ME: What the fuck is your point, then?
INNER CHILD: My point is that you whack off way too much at your extensive collection of Maria Ozawa videos.

ME: That just did not make any sense.
INNER CHILD: Of course it doesn’t. More »

As you all know, I’m a bassist. A really lousy one, but whatev. So anyway, for the longest time I’ve been borrowing bass guitars left and right mainly because my old bass hasn’t really been usable.

If you remember, way back in January, I wished for a new bass. More »

So today, the Beijing Olympics officially start. Not that I care, of course. Everybody knows that I’m a big tub of lard whose main physical activity would be the three minute walk from my bed to the computer table. To Plurk. (Speaking of Plurk, trying to keep your Plurk Karma up is an Olympic feat by itself. Kinda like trying to keep my penis up- no, wait! Fuck!) By the time I get my knees to bend, I’m a sweaty, shivering pile of pain. Which only goes to show how much I care about sports and shit like that. More »

If you’ve noticed, the frequency of my posts here have been declining in both frequency and quality. I swear I’ve been trying very hard to set aside some time to write something (remotely) substantial but it’s either I don’t have the time or my brain just won’t fucking cooperate.

Okay, maybe I haven’t reached rock bottom yet. Unlike this girl:

Heath Ledger was not the typical Joker that Jack Nicholson portrayed in his prime. Look at him..dirty, scary, smelly and gay?? listen carefully, he made Joker the biggest joke of all batman franchise especially when he wore the nurse outfit then walked out after exploding the hospital… the accent resounds as if it goes straight from Brokeback Mountain’s parody(although his voice changed when he was raised upside down as if someone else dubbed that part when he might be already dead in real life) to match Christian’s tight-lip speaking manner as if he wears false teeth if not only gums tantamount to having hare lip and speech defect.

Seriously.

But still, I think I’m going through the worst bout of writer’s block ever. I actually try to write something, but dammit, I can’t write. Not a single sentence that I can be proud of. More »