Is this like the 7 year itch that whenever you turn into something at that year/period you get emotional/insane/queer or deluded of any inclination to be somewhat normal? Or maybe the fact that Im going to be turning one year older anytime soon means that this is the time to be crazy and emotional and contemplative and rational.
I chose the latter. I remember sending out random text messages to my friends that made them go, Huwatt?? and even declined my invitation for coffee for fear of seeing what has become of me. Theyre scared! Muahaha! Even I scare myself.
Whatever I made myself mental with isnt really destructive to my health, my life and my social network. Probably made me lost a few dinner dates or coffee afternoons but Ill live. My friends will get around once they find out my birthdays coming up. Hello, you wouldnt pass out on free dinner/gimmick/orgies, will ya??
Dear me, turning 25 years old this week isnt exactly a threnody of loserdom, or an anathema sight, a life malfeasance.. its uh, uh just an excuse to live life more because the years dont lessen. There is that countdown already to 30ish and oh, I hear they have the best sex lives? Hmm.
Tagging proves to be cumbersome when you have to answer all those queries. But tagging is fun when you started to realize characteristics in yourself you’ll never, ever find yourself changing. Lol.
Im Nazi about manners. The necessary sorry, thank yous, clean up your plate, extending a hand, beso beso — Im very sensitive.
A bottle of Absolute Vodka is awesome on a Saturday night but what about my usual props cigarettes, martini bottles? Nah. I dont drink alcohol. I pass. I pass. I pass so bad it takes a lot of effort for someone not to throw his drink at me and go, Shatap!
I have a wall full of pictures of friends, families, gimmicks, and outings. Until I can no longer post them, I have yet to fill an entire house of pictures.
My middle name is stress free. If its not worth it, dont think about it. Stress is self-inflicted. Just like pain is. Everything is mental whenever it is already past the ten minute threshold
4% of me is a bitch. Please allow me to be one. I always let everyone get their way but when its my turn to give out my order at Mcdonalds or for example, stay in the right lane of the road, dont be in the way.Im Ghetto. It amazes me when my dates take me to carinderias and watch my reaction. Heller, its those moments when Id roll up my sleeves and start opening up those kalderos. I walk around Colon. I sit on curbs I take out the garbage.
Dont hate the game. Hate the name. Everything I own, I hold dear, I possess, and I use I give them names. My cameras Gian. The Sony phones Derrick. The cars Louie. Even the laptops Damien! The bikes Who-oh! Sometimes these names have references to past loves. Whoops.
4 THINGS: old man, bad number equals to disaster.
Ill die drowning in pillows. Two huge square ones, four regular sized, one bolster and 4 mini pillows. Dont get surprised why I get asthma. Muahaha.I. Hate. Queues. Nothing in this world is as unproductive as queues. ATMs! Cashiers! Cabs! Ladies room? Yuck. Id give anything to have an excuse not to wait.
So Happy Birthday tomorrow to me! Bring booze. Make this your gift and stand out in my next BYOB party. BYOB?!! Muahah! Bring Your Own Boytoy! Cheers! Cheers!
Um, I wouldnt know what to do yet but Ill get there. Ill always do.