Track of the moment: "Ever After" by Bonnie Bailey (HedKandi Beach House 0404) Click the play button to hear it.
After a rather short 6 nights, I’m finally back to civilization. No more sea, sun and sand. No more cute Australian teens, pale, fat Brits and hairy Eurotrash people with their $3 prostitutes to see.
There’s so much stuff to tell but I really don’t know where or how to begin. I’ll just make a list and hopefully you’ll have an idea of what I’ve been up to etc.
1) Never, ever get drunk in front of your dad.
2) Never, ever tag a sibling along whenever you flirt with guys.
3) Never, ever tag a sibling along whenever a guy flirts with you.
4) Never, ever flirt with a hot, young, sexuality-unknown, Australian guy on holiday with his mom, dad, sister and a gay, blonde, acne-infested, pimple-faced brother. In fact, don’t even bother flirting with people who go on holidays with their families. You won’t just won’t go anywhere despite both of you wanting something to happen.
5) The older one wearing a baseball cap. Thorton family. Your mom gave you a back rub on the motor boat. You also helped the porter lift my Vuitton suitcase so it won’t get wet cause the sea waves were hitting em. Whoever you are, you’re hot. You’re really fucking hot. Go online when you get back home in Australia, go to google, search for your family name and then Boracay… and then email me… and then let’s fuck sometime. You can fuck me good and hard. So much for wishful thinking.
6) DO NOT UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES WAKE UP AT 6 IN THE MORNING.
7) This is the first holiday I had in my entire life when my 1:00 AMs were spent sleeping. A boring, fat, not-into-clubbing, sister to tag along with you is NEVER, I repeat, NEVER, EVER fun. Especially when her idea of fun is raiding the mini bar for snacks and watching boring HBO flicks at night. Her boring habits will easily rub off into you and you’ve got no choice but to spend the night in as well cause you don’t want to go out on your own.
Anyway, first batch of pictures are finally here. I’ve got more to upload tomorrow. I’ve got literally over 1,200 emails (work etc) to sift thru and I’m gonna do an all-nighter today.
Click the photo strip above to go to my photo album.
Here’s my fave picture of em all:
Ciao for now!
I finally got my arse go to the cardiologist today with 2 of my younger sisters.
After 2 long hours of waiting and some chest and back fondling using a stethoscope from Dr. Salvador (who, for a short, vintage, mid-30′s man, had a very good set of bright white teeth), he said I have this Costochondritis condition.
Also, I wasn’t looking closely at my ECG results. Although the machine said I have "Borderline Left Atrial Abnormalities" and "Left Ventricular Hypertrophy", the first cardiologist (not Dr. Salvador) crossed out both of those items.
I pointed this out to Dr. Salvador and then he looked at my ECG test and he said I’m still in the "normal" range. I guess, thank god, all this chest pain I’ve been feeling the past few weeks wasn’t anything life-threatening (i.e heart condition).
Back to chain smoking, cocaine and mind-blowing sex, yes?
I did the dreaded switch to Marlboro Lights earlier today and won’t smoke Marlboro reds anymore. I still need that nicotine fix one way or another, even if I’m smoking paper (lights).
BTW, enough of this whole chav thing. I figured
being a chav is so not me.
I’ve fantasized about doing this for ages… I even bought a fake Burberry cap just to get this Kodak moment. Well, not quite. There’s no such thing as sovereign rings where I live and I just can’t stomach buying fake gold neck chains. Buying 1 counterfeit item (Burberry Cap) is already a cardinal sin, buying fake jewelry is the worst.
What exactly is a chav?
1. Someone who doesn’t know what Dior is.
2. Ghetto Trash British people… and I mean Ghetto, Trash, British people.
In any case….
+ a bottle of Russian Standart
+ Fake Burberry Cap; it has to be fake. otherwise, you’re a fake chav if it’s real Burberry
+ Top Shop sweat pants
+ Lacoste polo shirt
+ Juicy Couture fleece hoodie
= CHAV SCUM!
Gawd. Yesterday was rather horrible.
I haven’t had a facial in like 3 weeks so I decided to get one yesterday, cause I noticed one of my pores were blocked (i.e. a baby zit). I got one of those extraction facials and a diamond peel with my dermatologist. Everything was routine. I lie down, her assistant cleans my face then she extracts everything there is to extract.
While I was there, I got some sort of a heavy feeling on my chest. I’ve been having this the past 2 weeks and sometimes, it kinda "stings" on my left breast area… not that I have tits.
Then she asked me all sorts of questons, of which I forgot what I told her. The only question I remember was like "When you breathe, do you feel any pain on your chest?" I said, no. She told me to get one of those ECG readings done and consult a cardiologist.
Since it was all on one big medical center place, I got my ECG test done. I quickly looked at the print out. There were 3 lines of text on the top center part of the page and one of them was "Borderline Left Atrial Abnormalities". I forgot what the other 2 were. Oh dear. I’m too young to have heart disease. I hope it’s just something temporary or normal or whatever.
I’m supposed to go back tomorrow at 5PM to talk to the cardiologist for the full reading.
Anyway, I think I’m gonna cut back majorly on smoking. I used to smoke like 2 packs a day years and years ago but I only smoke a maximum of a pack a day for the past 2 years — except on weekends or when I go out.
Saturday last week, I decided to go on a diet. You know, a normal diet where I don’t have to take any diet pills or drugs or go to my aesthetician to get lipo-dissolve done. It’s been 1 week and 1 day that I haven’t eaten rice. One of my friends lost like almost 10 pounds in 1 month by not eating rice. Apparently these carbohydrates are the ones that take forever to burn.
So… goodbye reductil. goodbye drugs. goodbye cigarettes (well, just 10 sticks a day) and goodbye rice. Here’s to a healthier lifestyle.
Ever wondered why the Philippines is a third world country?
Corrupt government officials aside, I’ll show you how *some* government employees spend their business hours.
You see, normal people, like me, pay lots of taxes to the government year after year after year. These taxes should go to the benefit of the people — help the poor, build schools, improve public healthcare and such.
It’s almost 3PM where I live and as you guess it, people in government offices should be working.
But not this unknown person. Meet I.P address 220.127.116.11. From this point going forward, I’ll refer to him as Mr. 202.
A couple of hours ago, Mr. 202 left a comment on my blog, according to Typepad.
A quick search on whois records will reveal that this ip address belongs to — shock horreur — The Office of the President of the Republic of the Philippines in Malacanang Palance, Manila. Check it out yourself: www.whois.sc/18.104.22.168.
OMG. The President is reading my blog. Whoopeedo.
NOT. Can you imagine?
I’m actually not pissed off with 202′s comments. I mean hello — it takes one faggot to know another, sweetheart. This person probably can’t get it on with a girl so off he goes on a little manhunt.
However… with all the things going on inside
one’s country, this little schmuck of an office
worker had the nerve to spend the taxpayers’
money to actually browse random blogs during
Hello you rancid fool — you’re not being paid to read people’s blogs.
The last thing the Philippines need at this point is some blog espionage center.
This is just one of those little things that idle, lazy-arsed government clerks do on their spare time… sending text messages and gossip amongst coworkers optional.
On that note, I now hope that you, worldwide folk, know why the Philippines ain’t goin anywhere.
For the first time ever, I’ll be spending Christmas away from home.
That’s right, me and my immediate familia de horreur will spend our our Christmas on one of the islands here, Boracay. My parents have this time share thing with Club Panoly that they haven’t used it for quite some time, so we’re going there on Dec. 23 – 26th.
I hate Club Panoly. It’s on the far end of the island and going to where the action is takes forever.
Anyway, my sister and I will extend though cause 3 nights ain’t enough to catch up for some real tan action. We’ll probably extend until the 28th or the 30th. It depends cause finding accomodation at this time of the year is so hard. It’s worse than being on the waiting list for a Birkin bag. I already booked a suite from 26th until the 28th at Boracay Beach Resort, but it’s sold out from the 28th onwards.
Boracay is alright. It’s nothing special. We go here twice a year, usually for a week during summer (friends) and during winter (family)… but never on a holiday season. It gets packed during the summer with all sorts of people from the big cities — I swear, it’s just like this huge market place with market people. Boracay is basically this cheap fix whenever you want some sea, sun, sand and a tan. There really is nothing to see because the island is so small. It’s no Mustique, St. Barths or Ibiza. Amanpulo is still the best island around here.
Anyway, so there.
1) Wear fabulous shoes.
My sister got her internship at a firm simply because she minced around on her 4 inch Dolce & Gabbanas. It made this clickity heels noise and the interviewer asked her where her shoes are from — the old woman and her had the same shoe size and they both had the same taste in shoes.
2. Flirt with the security guard or the nearest human male near reception.
3. Mince your way into the interviewing room.
4. FIRST IMPRESSIONS COUNT.
Flash that billion dollar smile and give your interviewer a wink when you first open the door.
5. Smile lots and answer his/her questions.
6. Do not touch anything on the table. Put your hands either on your hips, lap or keep your arms folded in front of your chest.
7. Keep in mind that interviewing is such a horrible task. I bet you 100% that THAT person hates his/her job so much cause all they bloody do is sit behind some rancid desk interviewing unemployed mortals (like you) pretending someone they’re not just to get a job. They see all sorts of these desperate jobseeker bimbos every day. Don’t project a fake impression.
8. Try to insert some spice and happiness into your conversation. Your fun attitude might be the key to getting that job.
9. Don’t forget to wiggle your butt out and airkiss the person before you leave.
If everything goes for the worst, or if he/she is asking you hard
questions, rub your nipples, lick your fingers in front of him
and tell him/her "let’s party sweetie!"
and then that’s it. Good luck!