First things first. I have decided to change the name of this blog from "The Id configuration" to "The failures in life of Mike Villar: Rising Internet Star. Also awesome." Why you ask? First, because I think the new title better describes what I’ve been writing about lately (And what I’ve become- A rising internet star, thank you). Second, when I started this blog, I was trying to come off smart so I decided to go with a title that references Freud’s structural theory. I thought that by doing this, I’d be able to exude genius and easily solicit sex from adoring female readers.
But I’m really not so crazy about exuding genius nowadays and all I want to get out of this entire blogging gig is, well, get some sexing from adoring female readers. I mean come on people, I’ve been doing this for eight months now and all I’ve been getting are measly marriage proposals from people whose genders are debatable. So we have to step this up! We have four months left before this blog celebrates its anniversary and what have I gotten out of it? Nothing. Absofuckinglutely nothing. Not even one measly blowjob.
So for those of you who are still iffy with the idea of getting it on with one of the Internet’s hottest commodities, you better get to it. I mean it can’t be THAT bad. You’re probably thinking "But you’re totally unattractive and unhealthy. Plus I heard you tried to poison your mom with detergent." But what you don’t know is I’m absolutely charming in person. I don’t know why I’m even soliciting sex over the internet when I could easily come up to any girl in a bar, drop an ultra-smooth pickup line like "Hi girl, I’m a boy. And I want to fuck you. In the mouth.", at which point the girl would make a moaning sound, comply without protest but will get weirded out as I pull out a picture of Tirso Cruz III from out of my pocket and cry when I near climax. Needless to say we will never speak again.
But I prefer geeky internet girls; you know, those ones with cute rectangular emo-looking glasses and those who know how to parition a hard disk on a linux machine.
I just turned myself on with that description.
On another blog related note, a lot of people have been emailing me why I have the commenting system off in my blog. The answer is it’s the natural progression. When I first started blogging, my self esteem for the day was directly proportional to the number of comments I get on a blog post. But a blogger of my stature really shouldn’t care. I mean does Heather Armstrong have comments on? How about Michelle Malkin? Exactly.
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Anyway, Friday night was a very stressful night for me. I went out with my good friend Maffy and several of her office friends. This entire thing was stressful for two reasons: one, I don’t know exactly how it happened, but apparently I’m broke. Not broke in the "Whose dick do I need to suck around here for food" sense but more in the "I can’t spend on booze because I need every penny I have right now to get me through to next pay day" sense. Two, It’s extremely fucking hot even at night. For some people, this isn’t a big deal. I mean, I even see metrosexual call center monkey types walking in the scorching afternoon sun with trenchcoats on (Fucking losers). But being the fat, unhealthy guy that I am, I am not looking forward to doing anything that involves me stepping out of an airconditioned room. The humid warm blanket that greets me when I step out of an airconditioned room causes me to sweat like a bitch after only 5 seconds of standing outside.
So you’re asking how my presentation for the recently concluded iBlog summit 2 went. I could say it went smoothly and I kicked ass but that’s like saying “Mike Villar has a normal-sized penis” or “Mike Villar has had consensual sex with a non-deceased person, whose gender is debatable, within the last two months,” or “Mike Villar has a perfectly healthy heart not made up of 70% nicotine and 20% cholesterol.”
Truth of the matter is I fucked up. Really bad. It’s all my fault really; this project has been given to me by my bosses several weeks before but thanks to the mighty triumvirate of laziness, working on my blogs, and smoking marijuana at work, I totally forgot about it and was totally freaking out the day before the summit because shit, I’m presenting my company’s flagship product and all I had ready was a couple of slides that really don’t amount to shit.
Fast forward to the day of the summit; in attendance were some of the biggest names in the local blogging scene like Manuel Quezon III, Dean Alfar, Abe Olandares, Marc Macalua and Angelo Racoma(Well I really don’t care much about Angelo, but he does belong to the country’s blogging elite, so whatever. Fuck you.). I was terribly unprepared and deep in my heart; I was banking on the incompetence of the other speakers to make me look good in comparison. Much to my dismay, everybody else was prepared and all their presentations were absofuckinglutely awesome. The fact that my presentation was just after the very informative talks made by Rebecca MacKinnon of Global Voices and Dr. Ronald Meinardus of the Friedrich Naumann Foundation only served to heighten my nervousness and send my already low self esteem swan diving to the asphalt.
The only card left to play was my Internet celebrity status. The good thing about celebrities like me is that we can be totally awesome at our craft (blogging, in my case) and be boring as fuck on interviews and speeches yet still come off cool. I mean shit, I’ve seen Lindsay Lohan’s interview on Conan and she just sat there looking all cutesy and slutty and everyone watching in the audience were pretty much happy (I think).
So when it was my turn to stand up and get on with my presentation, my boss introduced me: “Helping me with this presentation is Mike Villar, who himself is a very dedicated blogger. He blogs over at http://mikey.i.ph and he is one of the editors of The Man Blog”
I ran this scenario over and over my head the day before and this was what I envisioned happening:
Me: Hello everybody, as my good looking boss over here said, I am a very dedicated blogger. But what you don’t know is that when I’m not slacking off and misallocating my company’s time and resources, I actually work as the Global Account Manager.
Random male audience member: I LOVE YOU!!!!
Me: Thank you sir. I love you too.
Audience: [Raucous laughter]
Random female audience member: [Raising hand, interrupting] Mike you are so sexy, are you single? What do you look for in a girl?
Me: I don’t think this is the proper venue for such queries, but yes I am single. And I am looking for a girl whose idea of fun is watching me put on women’s clothing and dance to the tune of “Ice castles.”
Audience: [More raucous laughter]
Female audience members: Ugnhhhhhh…(Sound of them simultaneously experiencing orgasm)
Friends, I am seriously fucked. I know you must be getting really tired of this since I say it every chance I get in my entries but this time I’m REALLY fucked. Like Fuckettyfuckfuck Fucked. You see, tomorrow morning, I will be speaking at the iBlog summit in UP Diliman which is like the woodstock of the local blogging scene. The fact that I got chosen to present for my company hasn’t sunk in yet but what I’m sure of is that the decision to give me this responsibility is a monumental lapse in judgment in the part of my superiors.
I mean shit, everybody’s gonna be there! And all of the speakers are more or less experts in what they’re going to talk about. Check out this part of the program:
Problogging: Professional Blogging and Blog Monetization
by Abe Olandres
Blogging as a Profession: From Full-Time Employee to Full Time Blogger
by J Angelo Racoma
Putting Search Engines to Work for your Blog
by Marc Hil Macalua
Now these guys are awesome; but where do I, the guy who spends more than half of his work day posting entries about how he can’t get his dick up unless he hears the tortured screams of the innocent, fit in? I mean, I know I’m a rising internet star and I get marriage proposals and handjobs from thousands (possibly even millions!) of my adoring fans and all that but this is just way out of my league.
So if any of you are going to the iBlog summit tomorrow, I just want to tell you that I expect you to just shut up, listen and just let me get on with my presentation; because God knows i’m goinna punch you in the throat if you ask even one question.
Face it, the Internet is a putrid cesspool brimming with socially atrophied individuals who’d rather beat off to an animated progress bar of their favorite peer to peer software than go outside and socialize and interact with other people. I am, and always have been such an individual. I met my first girlfriend through the internet and broke up with her only a month later after she finally sent me her picture and I found out that she was a hideously obese girl with downs.
I was devastated. I mean I told her millions of times over IRC that I “<3" her; and I really did enjoy talking to her because she made me “LOL” and even “ROFL” all the time but I guess that’s just the way things fall into place in this sad, sad virtual world. That’s when I realized that the internet wasn’t the proper venue to look for “<3" ; in fact, I also started to feel that “<3" might not even be real! What the hell does “<3" mean anyway? Does it mean that my mental age is less than three? I’d like to think not.
But I was never a quitter. I decided, with much apprehension, to leave the comfortable familiarity of my 14.4 kbps modem to look for “<3" "IRL". This of course was harder than I thought. Spending years of trying to find “<3" on Internet chatrooms and bulletin boards turned me into a socially incompetent buffoon who’d tuck his tail between his legs, whimper, and run on the mere sight of a girl who’s even remotely attractive.
But I’d like to think that I have gotten better. I have my ups and downs (but mostly downs) as far as finding “<3" "IRL" is concerned and I write this article with you in mind. I’d like to help you to make the same difficult transition I’ve gone through from the typical fat, internet degenerate who doesn’t have the requisite social skills to even ask for directions, to an individual likable enough to be “<3" by members of the opposite sex or at least someone who doesn’t cream their pants whenever a girl shakes your hands simply because the word “handshake” reminds you of the sound your old dialup modem makes when it connects.
One thing you should know about women is that they are very much like men. Except maybe for the fact that they’re much more irrational and weird. Plus they don’t have penises; they have this thing called a clitoris which is basically like a really small penis, only uglier, smellier and it like squirts blood monthly or something. But the thing that really differentiates women from men is that unlike us, they do not judge their dates solely on appearance.
So you can only imagine how critical the first date is. The first date often decides what course the rest of your relationship with the woman would take. Depending on how you do on the first date, you can either trick women into having something that slightly resembles sex with a you after your date OR get yourself in a really expensive lawsuit that, along with your huge gambling debts, would haunt your heirs and immediate family long after you’re dead.
So without further ado, I give you the list of things you should avoid talking to women about on a first date.
Adam says: I am constantly on the lookout for intelligently written blogs by attractive female bloggers to feature on The Man Blog. When I came across Denise’s blog, Death by Suntan, I knew I had a winner. She is absolutely stunning to say the least, with a genuinely beguiling smile and the wit to boot. In full voyeur mode I learned that she led a fascinating life. For a time, she did marketing and promotions for Sari-Sari and quite recently she took on the mantle of marketing manager for hot and happening resto and bar, Mezze in Greenbelt. She’s extremely close to her family but lives independently. I found out that she modeled at some point in her life. She loves the beach. She’s into gadgets and all things tech, any geek’s gorgeous wet dream.
I then left her comment threatening to stalk her should she refuse to do an interview for TMB. A couple of email exchanges later, she quite surprisingly agreed. Which is why Mikey and I now find ourselves in this predicament. In the song Everybody’s Free to Wear Sunscreen, critically acclaimed Aussie film director Baz Luhrmann said, “Do one thing every day that scares you.” Mike and I were doing exactly that one as we waited in Starbucks in Pearl Drive for Denise. As I drank my short brewed triple red eye in a venti cup and Mike effeminately sipped his extremely chi chi greeen tea frappucino, we realized we had absolutely no idea what the flying fuck we were doing. Now massive as our cojones are, the fear of the unknown is still quite a force to contend with. It didin’t help that the person we were waiting for was a certified, scrumptiously tanned hottie who is perhaps even more intelligent than she is beautiful.
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
