It’s 6 in the morning and I just had a row with my mom about an hour ago.
My younger brother’s new (and extremely loud with a nasty ring tone) cellphone has been nagging for the past 2 hours. I swear I heard the most repulsive sounds at this time of the day — if you think verbal diarrhea is bad, his cell phone’s tones are leprosy of the ears. 2 hours of consecutive ringing of all sorts: one for his alarm, a ring tone for callers, then another one for text messages. And boy… no amount of alarm can wake the bitch up. He’s sleeps like a frozen can of lard in the middle of a blizzard.
Since he won’t get out of bed and his mobile ain’t on silent, my mom asked me to go to his room and grab his damn phone to see who’s been calling and sending him text messages. With his phone on my hand, I went to the kitchen and read the message out to my mom.
"gud mrng baby. im sori abt lst nyt –JC"
A couple of minutes later, he got up and went to the kitchen. My mom asked him who’s the whore that’s calling/txting him at this time of the day. The fat cow ignored her. In a span of 15 minutes, my mom asked him the same question and he didn’t respond. The fat cow turned into a silent lamb. My mom got fed up and went back to her coffee.
Me: "Ma, why are you tolerating this sort of attitude? Go ask the rude bastard child who it was. It was nasty of him to ignore you like that."
Mom: "Will you please stop giving me a sermon at this time of the day, Bryan? It’s too early and I don’t want to hear any word from you."
I swear I wanted to pull her hair but I won’t cause she’s my mother. I kept quiet from that point on focused on my breakfast. I don’t blame her, cause before my younger brother’s phone ruined our breakfast… and before I asked her that "why are you.." question, I was giving her a sermon on how she should stop feeding us cholesterol-infested fried stuff in the morning because we’re all not getting any younger.
I suspect that my obese, wart-necked, the sole family last name torch-bearer sibling has a girlfriend. Probably one of those breast-feeding-in-front-of-a-webcam, nasty slut whoring i’ll-show-you-my-tits-for-a-top-up-credit-on-my-prepaid-mobile-phone mother fuckers he picked up online, just what my sister said when asked me what the fight was all about.
Yesterday was a semi-productive day. I had my weekly glycopeel cleaning extraction facial + power peel session done. I’m planning to go out this weekend with my friends and I want to have a clear and flawless face. As long as it’s not bukkake, I love facials. There’s this undescribable feeling of satisfaction after having someone extract all the white & black heads, pore grime etc. from your face. It keeps me pimple-free. Can you imagine? I’m turning 18 (+5) years old in about 2 months. It’s completely unacceptable for me to have pimples cause, at least in most cultures, I’m no longer a minor.
I also don’t like those "relaxing" facials at spas where they lather your face up with an abundance of fruit-smelling "herbal" creams. They won’t do you any good, trust me.
If you want a good facial, get the hardcore extraction ones.
The ones where they’ll put chemicals, the ones where they’ll prick your pores to pick those disgusting pore-blocking maggots… the ones where they’ll inject cortisone into micro, fetus zits so they’re abort abort aborted before they even give birth to your face.
Peeling/Microdermabrasion sessions are good for your face, too. You’ll need to get rid of all dead skin so you’ll have that healthy, natural glow.
The downside of having facials/peels is the fact that you’ll have a red face for the next 24 to 36 hours. It depends on your skin sensitivity. You also can’t wash your face until the following morning. After that, you’ll have fucktastically brilliant skin. A face that you’ll be proud of, at least until your next facial.
Trust me, I’m not vain. It’s just that I simply don’t feel confident if I know I’ve got all these white and black heads, zits and such on my face. I couldn’t possibly face anyone if I knew I have this pus-erupting volcano on my cheek, nose or wherever.
I thought I’d share 3 pic of me that my sister took at my aesthetician’s clinic. God I look like a battered wife cadaver who got slapped by a deadbeat husband in the face. My face is all red from the facial abuse I got. But… no pain, no gain.
Click the thumbnails to view the supersized, extra large version.
After the facial stuff, I had a haircut with my stylist at Franck Provost, then did a little bit of shopping — bought 2 jackets, a top, some Obagi foaming gel and a carton of marlboros.