As you read this, you, intelligent reader, most probably know that the year 2005 is in bad health and is about to die of old age. 2005 has been a remarkable year for yours truly and as much as it pains me to say goodbye to it, I understand that this is but a natural cycle that all years go through. In a couple of days, 2005 is going to be graciously whisked away to that wonderful place where all the other years are laid to rest (Except 1992, because 1992 is a son of a bitch)
Traditionally, The new year is accompanied with a spate of people making firm, determined promises about their lives for the coming year. For some people, this involves pledging to lose weight, giving up cigarettes or stop sexually molesting their own kids. I mean, after all the new year is all about rebirth and changing for the better. And by rebirth I don’t mean that in the ‘born again’ sense where some pastor dips your head in holy water or some gay shit like that.
I personally want to bore you with my own New Year’s resolutions but that sort of thing is getting old. Instead, I will bore you with a recap of my year. It’s sort of like a replay only you’re not watching replays of your favorite TV show but rather re-reading long, boring blog posts of your favorite internet guy. I have been blogging for five months now and this blog witnessed all the joy, sorrow and sex crimes I experienced this year. But what about my year before I started blogging? I have nothing else funny to say, so without further ado, I bring you: A Requiem for 2005 (I honestly don’t know what "Requiem" means. I just threw it in there because it sounds sohphisticated and it makes me sound more intelligent)
Apparently, I’m still alive. And this is because as with most of my posts, and my life at that, I have overestimated our Christmas eve party into a total ballyhoo. In fact, I went to attend the 9pm Christmas mass held in the local chapel to advertise the "Ultimate Party" we were gonna throw. The conversation below should give you an idea of how we went about doing that.
Me: Yo TJ, are you doing anything later?
TJ: Well it’s christmas, so I’m spending time with my fam…
Me: Fuck your family man, Jay and I are throwing the biggest fucking party of the year!
TJ: But I promis…
Me: You’re not getting it TJ. This is not just a party, this is the stuff legends are made of. There’s beer, there’s pot, there’s women, and everyone’s gonna be there!
TJ: Okay I’ll try man but…
Me: TJ, man, if you want to stay the same loser you have been for the last 15 years, that’s your problem. I mean, how old are you? 29? And look at you, you still don’t have a girlfriend. You need to socialize brother!
TJ: Um, I’m actually married. Remember Steph? She’s the Director for operations for [Insert the name of the company I used to work for here]
Me: Liar. Get out of my sight.
If you read this blog regularly, you know that I exaggerate my life a lot. I say stuff like "I’m famous", "I make trucks and trucks of money" or "I got so drunk and had a chance to fuck a supermodel but I couldn’t get it up" a lot. But none of those claims hold a candle to the sheer overestimation I put into our Christmas eve party. Let’s break down my previous post shall we?
I’d like to inform everybody that this is gonna be my last post. Tonight, at exactly 11:45pm, I will die from either inducing too much alcohol or drugs into my system, or massive trauma to my center mass because somebody, most probably a friend I’m drinking with, will nail me good on the back of the head with an aluminum bat for fondling his girlfriend’s boobs while she wasn’t looking.
I’m really not sure at this point. All I know is that tonight, my friends and I are throwing the biggest fucking party of the year. There will booze. There will be drugs. There will be hot women we paid to party with us. There will be celebrities (maybe). There will be music and wonderful roses. All the good shit.
So you see, it’s gonna be a total riot. I wouldn’t be surprised if I wake up tomorrow morning lying down on the cold floor of a jail cell bunked in with a convicted rapist/murderer/drugrunner. Again.
Merry christmas! I hope you guys have as much fun as me. Though I doubt it. Because you guys are geeks.
I never really listened to the Foo Fighters until they released their sophomore album The Colour and the Shape back in 1997. When Dave Grohl first sowed the seeds of what is to become The Foo Fighters’ first album, I and most people I know were either still too downcast with how Nirvana ended to pay them any serious attention or hastily regarded them as spinoffs.
At first, I was iffy with the idea of getting their newest release In Your Honor because although I have a lot of respect for the Foo Fighters, I saw them as a band only capable of releasing four good songs, tops, in a single album. But when I finally did get the two-disc album and popped the second disc (The acoustic one) in the CD player, I fell in love within 20 minutes of listening to it.
I think Jason Mulgrew explains the concept of Dealbreakers best:
What is a dealbreaker? It’s hard to define, so maybe some examples will help. Two weeks ago (maybe three?) Adam on “Average Joe: Adam Returns” kicked off a woman because she told him she had a son. That’s a dealbreaker. In “Curb Your Enthusiasm,” Larry David couldn’t have sex with an attractive woman because she had a picture of George Bush on her desk. That’s a dealbreaker.Dealbreakers are not limited to sexual or romantic relationships; they can be in friendships as well.
There are only a few things that will automatically disqualify anyone from being my friend. For example, I can’t be friends with any guy who says “I don’t really like sports or music.” Liking one but not the other is fine, but both is a no-no. I mean, what the hell do you do with your time? Sports and music are probably 80% of my day, and that includes work (the other 20% is consuming). What are we supposed to talk about?
Another example is that I can not be friends with any guy who goes to the tanning salon all year long. I can see maybe going before you head on vacation, but all year round is a no good. I can’t be friends with anyone, male or female, who thinks Matchbox 20 “rocks” or “kicks ass.” I don’t think I need to explain why.
Aside from affirming within myself that Jason Mulgrew is the only other person aside from Tony Danza who I’d gladly have steaming man sex with, It got me thinking about my own dealbreakers as far as women are concerned. I mean I don’t care much about friends, my friends come in all shapes and sizes. I have a friend who is afflicted with Kleptomania and routinely steals my GI Joes; I have a gay, 250 pound friend who looks like Dennis Rodman and a friend who burned my pet dog Ruffles alive and called my mom a “dirty cunt.”
But girlfriends are different in the sense that you actually have sex with them. And when you’re a 23 year old obese overweight guy like me who’d corner the first girl who spreads her legs for you into a horrible marriage that would tragically end in murder/suicide, chances are you’re going to spend the rest of your life with your next girlfriend. Or in prision if you do hard drugs like me.
Anyway, After dating around randomly for the past year and a half and ending up with no one, I came to the conclusion that the following are my dealbreakers when it comes to women:
I have a confession to make. I don’t know anything about sex (surprise!). Asking me about sex is like asking a tibetan villager about the Heisenberg Uncertainty Principle or asking Elton John on how to act like a heterosexual male.
Also, after bitterly ending relationships with girlfriends who are nothing short of wanton sex kittens, I’d like to go out with someone who, much like me, doesn’t know what the hell she’s doing in bed and doesn’t ask questions like “Is it in yet?” or “Is that your penis or your pinky?” for a change.
So you see, my penis and my sexing ability are not my strong points, but I’m famous and funny so those kinda compensate for both my nanodick and my sexual ineptitude.
Mike "Fucking" Villar
"a Manila-based blogger made famous by his Atrocities of Friendster series, a regular feature he publishes on his blog where he mercilessly criticizes and mocks pictures of ugly people he stumbles upon on popular social networking site, Friendster. Although a lot of people are offended by what he writes, long-time readers of his blog regard him as a brilliant satire writer."
-Taken from my WikiBios page
