I thought I’d do one last whinge before I get some serious skin-tightening beauty sleep on my Pratesi-covered mattresses.
Ever since I started this blog, I’ve received far too many emails from you, my dear readers, on how I should come visit you for some serious R & R: reckless recreation.
We all know that geography is no boundary when it comes to my fans. Who knew there’s internet access in friggin Zimbabwe? Who knew I have fans who live in Ecuador? Even folks from Winnipeg, Alberta and Littleton, Colorado, they’re all feeding themselves with verbal diarrhea coming from my little third world rectum.
As much as I’d want to visit each and every one of you, one should realize that 99% of all the countries (and that includes friggin Iraq and Afghanistan) in the world show their disgust every time they see this snot-colored piece of document that we, citizens of the brown, the l’exotique and the natives, are born with.
That’s right bitches.
Immigration officials, visa officers, diplomats and consular services representatives wordwide frown upon anyone who holds the above-pictured passport because of all the bad deeds our ancestors did, dating back when the passport got invented.
You probably won’t believe the number of citizens of this third world hell hole cesspit would do anything just to get out of the country PERMANENTLY and ILLEGALY.
And it’s fucking true.
All the stereotypes you’ve heard from your neighbour are correct.
For instance, did you know that ALL Filipinos have some sort of a relative… or a distant relative, living in the United States of the Democrats, the Republicans and the Damned?
People from my land, the land of clear blue skies, coconut trees, weather la tropicale and boring malls would do anything just to get out of the country? It doesn’t matter whether they marry a sex-starved pensioner from Europe or smuggle themselves in cheap nylon suitcases one body part at a time: a lot of people will find a way just to get out… and most of them did.
What’s even worse are illegal immigrants who are a drain to a foreign government’s resources: benefits and welfare scroungers.
So here I am, a model citizen, suffering the consequences of my fellow shitizens.
Each and every god damn country in this planet now requires a friggin visa before allowing us to breathe oxygen in their country.
Some visas are easy to get, particularly the ones where no one from my country usually go to: India, China, Mongolia, etc, while most embassies now require us to give our entire lives documented in paper: bank statements, credit card statements, income tax returns, proof of assets, house & car titles, letters from our employers or proof of our businesses and everything else that you can think of.
And yes, they even want your first born child… or your bed sheet thread count if you’re impotent.
Now I don’t mind giving out such paperwork if I wanna go to a full blown shopping and reckless recreation expedition but doing so each and every time I want to go somewhere (or getting one visa after another one expires) is a fuckin hassle.
The documents are one thing but what’s worse is the drama dealing with the embassies.
Waking up at some ungodly hour just to submit your application at the embassy is one thing.
Queueing for hours is another thing.
And having incessant chit chat with someone who wants to pry on your personal life is another…although I have to give everyone credit for not asking me my guilty pleasures, the number of people I’ve slept with and the number of times I got my hair coloured in the past.
When one of my gal pals went to a European city last year for around 2 weeks, the local embassy took around 3 weeks to a month just to process her visa application… and the embassy had her passport the whole time!
Most of these embassies employ hardcore snob-to-the-max Filipino administrative assistants who would give you the cold shoulder as if you’re a mere pleb when in reality they should be the ones hailing you because of the economic benefit they’ll get from you when you spend your dosh at their local shoppingeries.
I guess one should never forget that there are still citizens such as myself who loves living in the land of the brown, the l’exotique and the natives.
Why would I want to live somewhere else when I’m living like a fucking queen here?
I have drivers (alright, crappy, dumb drivers), I have maids.
I have Vuitton suitcases and Chanel shades.
I never fly economy
Because I hate the sound of ‘mommy’
I don’t want your fucking jobs
Coz my dry cleaning bills are worth more than your handbag!
There goes my singer/songwriting skills. Now you know why I’ll never make it to the R&B section of your local music store.
It’s true though… I’ll never, ever, ever give up whatever I have here just to live anywhere else.
Going on holidays and vacations are fine, but knock-knock-cliche-snap-snap-reality, there’s no such place like home.
So yeah, if you want me to visit your country, go ahead and write to your government and ask them to friggin waive the visa requirement for model citizens such as myself.
Otherwise screw you cause I’ll only go where the wind blows.
My Pratesi and rivotril are waiting are for me. Good night/morning/afternoon everyone! firstname.lastname@example.org or +63-915-785-1492 if you need me.