Archive for March, 2011

*Disclaimer: The views and opinions expressed in this waste of time does not necessarily reflect that of my own.*

Who doesn’t? I’m pretty sure everybody has had a fantasy about being the richest son-of-a-bitch on the planet. We are only human after all, we’re all dreamers and we’re never satisfied with what we have. If you don’t aspire for better things, then you must be a forty something bum who lives in his parent’s basement and spends his days on an old couch, smoking pot and watching cartoons. (Awryt, High Five!) For the rest of us tax paying members of society (Value Added Tax Counts!) life is a frenetic struggle to add digits to our income. Admittedly we are all driven by reward. Yes, there are other more noble reasons like to find fulfillment and to follow passion etc., still it won’t hurt to get rich along the way. Not everyone gets so lucky. Reality bites- only a handful does, and out of that group only a select few get to live the sweet dreams. The iconic image to remind us all that life is unfair, the poster boy of Forbes and the mug we all want to pummel with a pie, is that of a nerdy spectacled Harvard dropout we’ve all come to know as Bill Gates. Love him or hate him, he is still “filthy-stinkin-rich!”  He makes more money in a day then Maria Ozawa will make after getting gangbanged by a hundred horses. The man wakes up every morning twenty million dollars richer. Imagine that. It makes you wonder, what the hell he does with all that money. Infamous as he is though, Mr. Gates opts to lead a very hush-hush personal life. What a tease! We are all left to assume and fill in the blanks, at the same time enjoy ourselves thinking of magnificent ways to spend a fortune we will never have. That must be the longest and most inventive excuse I ever made to hit the realm of make believe. Anyway, if I could be Bill Gates, I’d sell my stake at Microsoft and donate the proceeds to Nicaraguan orphans in a million years. Honestly, philanthropy is the last thing on my mind with $56 billion to squander. You see if I were outrageously rich, I’d also be outrageously ostentatious.

To begin with I’m going to need a crib, for that I have my eyes on the Burj Khalifa.                                                                            

The tallest man made structure ever built, rising 828 meters off the ground, 160 floors in all and reportedly costing $1.5 billion. You are definitely “The Man” with a penthouse suite high above the stratosphere, where you can look down on lesser mortals and gloat as they go about their daily chores like tiny worker ants.

The Windsor Castle,  originally built by  William the Conqueror in 1066, and now serves as a weekend home for the Queen of England. Perfect set-up for snuggling heiress von snooty.

For my wheels, though I’m really not particular with this, so long as i get to where I’m going, but for sheer effect i will adorn my garage with a Zero X dirt bike, an Infinity Essence (Concept car), a Land Rover Defender, an Aston Martin One-77, a Rolls Royce Phantom Coupe, The Moon Buggy, a Ford GT, a replica of Fred Flintstones car, a Lamborghini 6p670 Super Veloce, Optimus Prime and maybe an Audi R8 for errands.

Of course I’ll also need a yacht or two, not the little leisure boats you take out to fishing. I have something nastier in mind. The Tatoosh at 92 meters in length is the 33rd largest super yacht, built by germans at a whopping cost of $100 million.

And the Attessa IV formerly the Evergreen, initially created for a taiwanese shipping mogul  has been re- fitted recently into a plush ultra modern Poseidon of the sea.

I won’t be flying in a private jet you commonly see in every billionaires hangar. I mean come on, we’d look like a bunch of communists. My first choice would be an F22 Raptor, if i cant bribe the pentagon to sell me one, I’ll have to settle for a YF23, the strange looking stealth plane designed by Northrop/McDonnel Douglas that never reached production, There are only two of its kind. One is in a museum somewhere and the other, I have no idea where it is.

No self-respecting billionaire will make do with out a spare plane, so I will also get an F5 Tiger in clear stainless steel and with a modified external fuel tank. If i were having having bagels in France for breakfast how am i supposed to get to Tokyo for sushi is my jet fighter can’t fly trans-continental? hence the need to upgrade the compact f5’s fuel capacity. (It’s not obvious that I put serious thought into all this none-sense) To top it off I’ll pirate a Russian femme fatale  secret agent to pilot my planes. (beat that Tony Stark!)

Now that i have my fundamental needs in order it’s time to pick out a wife. What better way to do it then to have a reality show! complete with televised auditions, like in American Idol, and an unprecedented $1 billion pot. But in order to avoid a circus auditions will be by invitation only. On my list are: Megan fox, Olga Kurylenko, Eva Green, Gisele Bundchen, Gabrielle Anwar,  Angel Locsin, Natalie Portman, Olivia Wilde, Cameron richardson, Ashley Greene (of twilight fame), Grace Park, Diane Kruger, Beyonce, Ane Hathaway, Scarlett Johansson and Malin Akerman.

With the sentiments of these beautiful women in mind, the show will aptly be called “make that 2 billion, you ugly mother fucker!”  hosted by Bob Barker. The premise is simple enough, contestants will be put under a series of tests to gauge their domestic skills such as making sandwiches, doing laundry, pole dancing and mud wrestling to name a few. The contestant with the highest score on the karaoke wins.

I’m a big sports guy, meaning I watch alot of espn. one way of compensating for my languid sex life is playing fantasy basketball. For those of you who dont know what that is, Fantasybasketball is something you can google.

(to be continued…)


Dialogue With Snuffleupagus

Posted: March 17, 2011 in Creative Writing

“What do you want to be when you grow up?” A question perennially asked in my young and formative years. My answer would always be different depending on the day of the week, sometimes tall, sometimes scientist, sometimes astronaut, sometimes dictator and most of the time Superman.

It’s funny how the question is being thrown back at me nowadays, this time phrased a little differently, “Grow up! What do you want to be?!” I get stumped, what comes to mind is still a red cape and blue spandex, but that is out of the question.

I scratch my head and pick my brains  for a more realistic repartee. I start with “searching” (Yes, searching!) myself (not google) for what i want in life.

Do I want to save lives? Not really

Do I want to come to work in a tie? Resounding no

Do I want to live in a palatial estate, have a hot wife and drive around my ex-girlfriends neighborhood in a Ferrari f142 while bobbing my head to beats of DR. DRE? Nnah ( cough)

Do I want super powers? Yes! And be mocked and ridiculed behind my back? Of-course not .

My next best idea is to have a cottage in Sagada, marry a beautiful local, and live out my days in peace and obscurity. sounds good enough. However, not exactly doable since all real estate, even in far flung locations, costs a bag full of money. Something I do not have at the moment. And another factor that has to be put in serious consideration is the lack of employment opportunities there, the ones that fit my limited qualifications. Unless I could manage to live off a meager Government pension (which i doubt the government is dumb enough to give me) or I can plant cabbages and strawberries, this plan simply won’t work.

Back to the drawing board! What am I good at?

Making excuses that to the untrained ear sounds logical though they really aren’t ? That’s one!

Squandering things of worldly value? That’s two!

Doing outlandish things when possessed by San Miguel? That makes three!

My old sister tells me I have a knack for drawing, and I believe I did once upon a time. I remember whenever I got bored during class, I would amuse myself by sketching caricatures of my dull teachers and at other times I’d make fanciful depictions of my crush in skimpy attires. problem is I’m no longer in class and its been awhile since I formed figures on paper ( yes I have become extremely proficient at making excuses). Simply put I was not able to develop that skill enough to have the confidence to rest my ambition on it. To be satisfied at how I lived my life is something I happen to consider at the back of my mind and I don’t feel it in drawing lines.

The question must again be analyzed from a different vantage point. ” What can i see myself doing?”, “What can I see myself being?” Tentatively I’d say, even if I’m not naturally gifted, I could see myself a writer. Whether to nit-pick current events as a columnist, to create prose as a poet or to tell stories as a novelist, anything to do with expressing human experience I would find interesting and worthwhile. Writing to me is a meaningful pursuit, a kind of purpose i can attach to my existence.

To borrow from the words of James Michner,

“I was born with a passionate desire to communicate,to organize experience, to tell tales that dramatize the adventures which readers might have had. I have been that ancient man who sat by the campfire at night and regaled the hunters with imaginative recitations about their prowess. The job of an apple tree is to bear apples. The job of a storyteller is to tell stories, and I have concentrated on that obligation. ”

(notice how by quoting an articulate person i am able to add effect to my otherwise bland and in-cohesive babble?  ;p)

Some think of writing as a mere hobby, something unproductive and a waste of time. I don’t believe that. I can’t imagine where we’d be with out the Torah, Bible, Koran and the Tripitaka, unfortunately these stories did not come to us in DVD ( like duh?! everybody knows people only had beta-max in those days, pfft!) These are written traditions  that serve as cornerstones of their corresponding religions. Here’s the idea if not for writing we’d still be stuck  worshiping iguanas   and licking elephant shit to this day. ( fu*#kin pagan!)

While it can also be said that there have been writers who died  drunk and penniless, the same holds true even for stock brokers, bankers, industrialists, prostitutes, drug abusers, oscar the grouch etc.  Misfortune  does not choose its victims and poverty does not pick its members. Besides I’m already broke as it is, So it doesn’t make a difference, In fact its a level up. That’s a magic of writing, it can turn a  loser into an instant intellectual loser.

On a more personal note, the pen  saved my soul, it provides me with an outlet for all the erratic emotions that shuffle inside me, silencing the troubles of my mind and calming the tempest in my heart.

Going back, for the sake of clarification  it’s not that he can soar across the sky in a ridiculous outfit or that he can stop a rampaging locomotive by sheer grit that I admire superman, truth be told, it is how he can remain unfazed by the senseless goings on of society, his faith in people, his values and his compassion for others, that I look up to and I’m not just saying this to get laid. If more people acted like him we would all find ourselves in a better place (with padded walls, kidding), I would not have been swindled and I won’t be bankrupt today.

As for my direction? who knows? we all have our own unique  calling, maybe in my case I’m better off as Lois Lane (what does Lois Lane do?) and if I’m not, then I’ve totally screwed myself over.

Roommate In 1901

Posted: March 15, 2011 in Creative Writing

a quiet tear slips as i close my eyes./

a sharp wring grips as i heave a sigh./

it all comes back like a swell of tide/

and retreats from my grasp as it did when it died./

ditto to Prometheus i must be/

for ceding you in reverie.


Posted: March 15, 2011 in Creative Writing

disentangled memory of her tears,

harrowed pleas that fell on deaf ears;

a crowning injury paid to her fidelity,

the fold drops with a token of misery.

wretched guilt a pit and a cross;

vexed in flame that burns beyond loss;

incurable desire to bid the clock,

to turn around and restore the lock;

but to taste dire truth is my reward,

chance expires and life moves forward

Enemy Of Democracy

Posted: March 15, 2011 in Creative Writing

The Enemy Of Democracy

my will falls undone
my name depraved in decay
mendicant, I’m now shun
my cronies where are they?
faint whispers I heed
a flurry of trepidation
flaying jeers only betray
thespians in vexation
sublimated defiance
fostered in my seclusion
unfold w/ in vision
to oppose the sentries illusion
distance becomes my prison
a coral of fatigue
time is now the obstacle
in the redemption of my body
take me in your palm
malicious minds in collusion
the impostors rapture shall come
and anarchy will be the price of your avarice

Love The Way You Lie

Posted: March 15, 2011 in Creative Writing

love the way you lie

feat. me?


Just gonna stand there

And watch me burn

But that’s alright

Because I like

The way it hurts

Just gonna stand there

And hear me cry

But that’s alright

Because I love

The way you lie

I love the way you lie

I love the way you lie


so you thought playing

noble prince was nice

well stepping into my shoes

asshole wasnt wise

ill grab you by the neck and

slap you silly

you’ll bow, you’ll beg, you’ll

cry for mercy

ill spit down your mangled face

shatter your rib and kick

you around the place

ill break your arm and

crush your fingers

ill smash your knees wth

my bottle of liquor

and for good measure so

you wont forget, ill drag

you to the loo and flush your

head in the toilet


Just gonna stand there

And watch me burn

But that’s alright

Because I like

The way it hurts

Just gonna stand there

And hear me cry

But that’s alright

Because I love

The way you lie

I love the way you lie

I love the way you lie


im sorry i didnt mean

to hurt him, he tripped

and hit his chin on the floor

about the nose, i dont know,

maybe it got caught by the door

honest, i was only tring to

help him out.

beats me, how the tarantula

got in his mouth

wait what do you mean by sinister?

it wasnt me that stuffed his a**

with a cucumber!

heck i even tried to call the plumber!

thats me in the video,

i couldnt get through w/ all

the laughter.

baby why must you always

put the blame on me?

he’s a liar, im innocent cant you see?


Just gonna stand there

And watch me burn

But that’s alright

Because I like

The way it hurts

Just gonna stand there

And hear me cry

But that’s alright

Because I love

The way you lie

I love the way you lie

I love the way you lie


Posted: March 15, 2011 in Creative Writing

twinkle twinkle little star,




my friend got drunk in a bar.




up above the world so high,




he couldn’t tell the chick was a guy.




twinkle twinkle little star




dumb fuck woke  beside edgar.






humpty dumpty had a great dong,




all the skanks of  fairy town call him “foot-long”.




he plowed  the kings daughters




and he plowed the kings wife.




when his majesty got home early
humpty dumpty ran for his life

little sunny stalker


hiding in a corner


dress up! dress up! grab your mace!


spray that creep right on the face.


go hit him with a right and hit him with a left,


kick him on the shin and kick him on the chest


and get em in the part where his bird nests.

hindi na bago ang salitang nationalismo

sa mga kulturang malaya at demokratiko.

dito satin itoy isa ng gasgas na salita

sa paulit ulit na pagkakataon  itoy binabandera.

parte na ng ating kultura ang ikumpara ang pilipinas sa iba,

ang maging “world class” o sa aking pananaw ang ” makigaya”;

hindi na kuntento sa gawang indio,

pati ang tao ginawang pilipino;

galing sa pangalan ng haring estranghero.

sino ba talaga ang pilipino?

sila ba ang lahing mahilig mangsisi ng iba?

sa bawat suliranin ang salarin ay gobyerno at politika?

naka lunok ng tinik ng isda, sinong may sala?

palpak na naman ang gobyerno at politika!

Sila ba ang mga taga-ilog, pampango, ilocano, bolanon at cebuano?

na sa pagsakop ng mga amerikano nahaluan ng mga moro?

bakit nga ba may alitan ang tagalog at bisaya?

at bakit pinapatay ng mga pilipino ang mga morong nais maging malaya?

mahigit isang siglo na raw tayo isang bansa at lahi,

tingnan mo, nasa ulap parin ang pagkakaisang katang isip.

isang bayan na isang syudad lang ang kumakabig,

samantalang ang palibot ay napuno na ng mga gutom na bibig.

aminin na lang natin ang totoo, hindi tunay ang pilipino.

mag balik tanaw sa ating mga katutubong nakalipas,

wala kang mahahanap na bayang pilipinas.

humarap ka sa panahong moderno, at buksan ang mga mata,

ang tunay na nationalismo, naka ugat sa wika ng iba’t ibang dila.

Mga Banat Ng Lolo Ko

Posted: March 15, 2011 in Creative Writing

Lola: Bakit mo ako mahal?

Lolo: Hindi ko na lang sasagutin yan.

Lola: Sige na please

Lolo: Wag na baka kiligin ka pa.



Lolo: Love, pahiram nga ng pustiso

Lola: bakit?!

Lolo: Gusto kitang kagatin eh!



Lolo: Bakla ka ba?

Inday: Hindi ah!

Lolo: Pakita mo nga!

Inday: Si sir talaga o!

Ang tanda tanda na bastos pa!

Lolo: Ah wala! Bakla ka!

Inday: Hindi ako bakla!

sige ipapa kita ko,

pero mabilis lng ha

o ayan!

Lolo: Teka malabo na mata ko

Pahawak na lang!

*ungas*  hehe


*mga kalokohan ko lang to, mahiyain at strikto ang lolo ko noon.

Mga Hindi Tamang Banat

Posted: March 15, 2011 in Creative Writing

Mga Hindi Tamang Banat

Part 1

Boy: Pansin mo ba uso na ngayon ang mahal?

Girl: Anong ibig mong sabihin?

Boy: Una nagkaroon ng mahal na sago,

sunod, mahal na cape,

mahal na tsinelas,

mahal na donat,

pati pamasahe mahal narin

Girl: Oo nga! grabe…

Boy: Ano naman kaya ang susunod?

Girl: *napaisip* …ewan

Boy: mahal mo narin kaya ako? *ngise*

Baduuuuuuuy!!!! hahaha


Part 2

Girl: Ang hirap kumuha ng taxi

nakaka badtrip

nabasa tuloy ako ng ulan

Boy: Anong nangyari?

may baon ka bang damit?

Baka magkasakit ka…

Girl: Oo buti na lang may dala akong pampalit

Ung mga taxi driver kasi namimili

dapat sakanila kinukunan ng licensya!

Boy: Bakit naman?

Girl: Ay naku! na kaka hassle kc sila ng ibang tao!

dapat sa kanila pina parusahan!

Boy: *inabot ang kanyang licensya*

Girl: O ano to?

Boy: Pasensya na sa ibang tao

ikaw kc ang pinili ko. *pikit mata*



Part 3

Bakla: Ang tyaga mo naman sa kaibigan ko

Boy: Oo mahal ko na talaga eh

Bakla: Huuuuwaw ang sweet mo naman!

Boy: Ah salamat

Bakla: Eh pano kung binasted ka nya?

Boy:  Ha? may sinabi ba xa sayo?

Hindi ko kaya! magpapakamatay ako!

tatalon ako sa hawla ng leon at papakain ko sarili ko!



Part 4

Girl: Bakit umiinom ka?

Boy: Wala, gusto ko lang maglasing at makalimot

Girl: Pareho na tayo tinamaan nan.

Boy: Bakit nakainom ka rin ba?

Girl: Hindi tinamaan na kasi ako sayo! *toink*

*Kinilig ka no? aminin*


Part 5

Girl: Nakakainis ka naman eh!

Boy: Bakit ano bang ginawa ko?

Girl: Yun nga yun eh, wla kang ginagwa

ang bagal bagal mo!

mahal na nga kita eh!

Boy: Ah ganun,

matalino ka naman diba?

Girl: Mejo, bakit?

Boy: sagutin mo nga ako!

*ganun lang yun*


Part 6

Bakla: Uuuuuy…ang sweet nila!

Bagay kayo!

Boy: Ah salamat…

Bakla: Pero alam mo mas bagay tayo!

Boy: Naku, magmumuka lang ako janitor

pag tinabi sayo.

Bakla: *blush* hindi naman! kulang ka lang ng enhancement!

Boy: Dahil mukha kang ARINOLA LECHE KA!!!

*hahaha nkaganti rin*

Hello world!

Posted: March 15, 2011 in Creative Writing

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