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! email@example.com or +63-915-785-1492 if you need me.
Here’s a little act of kindness (and of course, publicity) for those who give it to me.
As some of you know, I ocassionally check sites that refer to my site from time to time. I like to keep track of what’s going on around the world, where my site is being talked about, etc.
You see, I’m a certified A-grade hoarder. I hoard clothes, bags, accessories and such.
Heck, I even hoard love, attention and hate mail.
Anyhoo, there’s another entertaining thread on some Filipino forum somewhere. Trust me, there’s quite a few hilarious posts there.
One thing in particular is this ‘Foxistar’ person who is certainly sure that I want to be a girl but even a sex change can’t change the truth… no amount of money will make me a girl.
It looks like this fucker knows me more than I know myself.
(BTW, I’m not sure whether or not posters can re-edit their posts once they’ve posted on the boards but I wouldn’t be surprised if s/he took it off. Anyway, at least I know… and have seen better)
A sex change?
Me being a girl?
Why on earth would I want mussels on my crotch when I love being a boy, I love my cock, I like jacking off and being jacked off?
I’m not THAT deranged to turn myself into a vagina.
Yuck, yuck, yuck, yuck.
In any case, isn’t it just adorable?
What’s even more amazing is when this wart-faced douche bag emailed me earlier today.
Then I replied… and he replied…
If I was a handbag designer, there’s no way I’d email "ugly, gay, almost famous" people who WANTS TO GET A SEX CHANGE out of the blue and bribe them with handbag endorsements in exchange for free publicity.
The right way to do it bitch is to at least kiss my ass, worship the third world soil I’m standing on and tell me I’m fucking gorgeous, fabulous, sexy and all things patronizing that you can think of. Once I’ve promoted you, then you can start the backstabbing and the filth.
Not the other way around.
Alas, you did quite the opposite.
I hope my efforts in giving you publicity pay off.
I just fucking love it. People will go to great lengths just to use you… kiss your ass, say bad shit about you, etc.
When the only thing I want to do is to have fuckin fun.
Nevertheless, I’m glad there are people out there – and these are the people who really MATTER – friends and genuine people – who know better. People who will never judge me based on what they see initially, but based on their own personal experiences of/with ME.
You know who you guys are and I truly appreciate each and every one of you.
I know I OWE absolutely no one any explanation – as you guys have told me over and over again – but it’s things like this that I can’t bear. Don’t worry, I’ll most definitely fine-tune myself and learn to adapt based on my experiences.
Back to the handbag bitch… who’s the bigger loser now?
Because I’ve let myself used and gave what s/he wanted.
But frankly, I don’t give a flying fuck.
Look mate, your handbag concept is nice, in fact, a handful of your bags are quite cool, but your attitude fuckin stinks. Whether or not you get something out of this post you at least owe me a couple of handbags.
May you rot in handbag hell.
*runs off to get a Fendi Spy bag in white mink*
La La Lacoste
As Fashion Week in New York goes into full swing, photos are flooding in, particuary the ones from Lacoste.
I knew s/he’s gonna reply in a heartbeat. S/he’s on
THEN WHO THE HELL WERE YOU TARGETTING?
As always, y’all know my email address. firstname.lastname@example.org.