I seriously need to go to the gym. And by go to the gym I mean it in the “I’m going in there, run on the treadmill for at least an hour and pump some serious iron” sense and not in the “I’m going to run on the treadmill until this chick who looks strikingly similar to Jessa Zaragosa in front of me leaves. After which, I will attempt to chat her up and she’ll walk away, repulsed by my excessive sweating and body odor” sense.
I’m such in a bad shape that the 50 meter walk from the parking lot to my office building makes me feel like I’m about to suffer a mild heart attack. Also, I’m tired of being a fat fuck who everybody pities and looks down on. I want to be able to wear those trendy muscle shirts without me looking like a girl in a constant state of arousal because my perky nipples can be seen through them no thanks to my gigantic man boobs.
My friends say it’s because of my excessive nicotine intake. I mean come on, I don’t smoke that much; on the average I smoke like a pack and a half of cigarettes a day. They might be right, but I realized that everything wrong about my health has been blamed on cigarettes and that’s not fair.
My ex girlfriend said my erectile dysfunction was because of it (I don’t have E.D. by the way and my ex girlfriend probably just brought it up because of that time my hooded champion lost his will to fight when we were doing it in the car. Not that I have a problem with a little adventurous sexing here and there but I swear, that only happened because somehow, I managed to conjure up an image of my hairy uncle licking a popsicle in an attempt to prevent premature ejaculation). My mom also said that my excessive smoking contributed to my recent panic attacks; BUT after seeing a psychiatrist, I found out that smoking had absolutely nothing to do with it. The attacks are caused by an imbalance of hormones in my brain or something.
You see, there are a few things in the world I love so much: smoking, food, videogames and girls (usually in that order); so no, I’m not about to give up smoking anytime soon. Or maybe I will, if my lungs collapse or if somebody invents something as fun and fulfilling as a cigarette. It might be a blow-up proboscis monkey doll that makes kiddy noises when you touch it in secret places, I don’t know.
So yeah, my point is given that I can’t quit smoking (and fatty food), I might as well compensate for it by working out. It’s not like I don’t have access to any decent gyms either. In fact, my parents spend thousands of pesos on a sports club membership that, save for my dad, nobody actually uses. Plus I think I have this complimentary gym membership I won from a Christmas raffle last year (but I need to see if it’s still with me. I think I might’ve given it, along with my wallet, to this transvestite bartender in Puerto Galera while I was drunk)
I’ve actually been trying to work out in the sports club gym for the longest time but there’s something terribly wrong with the layout of that place. After you enter the club and register with the front desk, the hallway that leads to a gym has this really nice sports lounge that offers beer at half price during happy hour (the time I usually go).
So I say “Maybe I could work out later and just grab a few beers first—holy shit! Look they have free WiFi!” So I return to my car, drop off my gym bag, get my laptop and indulge myself in a festival of beer, bar chow, cigarettes and broadband access. And after everything’s said and done, I am too fucking buzzed to go to the gym.
The place is just so homey and more often than not, I’m the only customer there so I get to chat with their sexy waitresses too. Shit, I wish going to the gym was this fun.
Anyway, I’m pretty sure my dad will throw a hissy fit when he sees the bill:
Dad: Michael have you been working out?
Me: [Flexing my biceps] Well yeah, you noticed?
Dad: No. In fact, I think you’ve put on at least 20 pounds. How long have you been working out?
Me: Um, a month?
Dad: [interrupting, pulling up the bill] AND in that month you were able to consume 14,000 pesos worth of [going through the itemized list] Cerveza Negra, chicken fingers, calamari, cigarettes, scotch, and what’s this…three bottles of tequila?
Me: Yeah, I think that was during the birthday of one of the waitresses, and I decided to buy the entire crew drinks so they’d let me stay after hours and use their WiFi.
Dad: …
Me: [Giving my membership card] So how long before I can use the car again?
But that’s the last time anything like this is going to happen! I promise(again)! I refuse to live a charade that revolves around alcohol and the internet like a drunken, misguided moon. More importantly, I no longer want to be a fat bastard.
So yes, dear readers, you will read even less of me. I will devote all of my free time to running really fast on the treadmill, bench pressing 500 pounds and what not until I become so buff, my penis would be virtually invisible between my soon to be muscular thighs.
That’s all I have for you right now. It has been rainy and windy this week and I hope this continues until next week because this weather’s just lovely. Most of you are probably making the most out of the cold weather and just spend your entire day fornicating like sex deprived mutant rabbits. And even though the mere thought of people having consensual sex for free makes me want to beat you all up with my flaming fists of jealousy, I am willing to bury all of my hatred within my cholesterol-filled heart and wish you all a great week ahead.
There’s only one thing I ask from you: I want you to think of me, at the moment before you orgasm, riding an obese purple flying unicorn, wearing nothing but my socks chugging a beer, saying “Push and pull, push and pull make my titi colorful” in a weird British accent.
Once upon a time, people dressed in night gowns and tuxedos, drinking ostentatiously chichi cocktails were about to welcome the new year aboard a big ass cruise ship called Poseidon. Now this is no ordinary cruise ship too, It has like eight stories and has elevators in it right? So I guess it’s kinda expensive to be on this cruise or something.
So everything’s like going smoothly, the rich dad-looking people including Kurt Russel were like playing poker , smoking tobacco and they were like betting so much money. Kurt Russel’s daughter on the other hand, was like “This is boring, let’s go to the disco so I could rub my ass on your crotch” to her boyfriend and her boyfriend was all like “You know it girl!”
Then there’s like 20 more minutes of character development, you know, the part where the audience get to know the characters before they go into action. During this period of time the audience learns that Richard Dreyfuss’ character is gay and he wants to die because his boyfriend left him and rode another cruise ship.
The audience also learns that Kurt Russel’s character was Mayor of New York and was a firefighter or something. We also see The guy from Sweet Home Alabama flirting with this single mom who has an autistic lookig kid who always gets lost. So presumably The guy from Sweet Home Alabama is smooth and beds a lot of girls right.
We also catch a first glimpse of an annoying guy with a mustache who’s like rude to girls (as exemplified by his spanking of the waitress’ ass when he asked her to get him a beer) and a French stowaway who fucked this nondescript crewman who worked in the kitchen or whatever you call that place where they cook food in the ship.
Also, there’s a special guest appearance of the skanky-looking girl from the black eyed peas singing and shaking her booty. I also think there’s a hidden plot here somewhere; maybe she has this affair with the black captain of the ship because they were like all hugz and kissiez when they were about to die.
AND THEN…
A big ass wave strikes the ship and tips it over! Holy shit! A lot of people are dead like in Titanic and pearl harbor! A lot of them just like went overboard and drowned! And because everything’s upside down, some of them hit the ceiling and died! Lots of people dead! OMG!
Now a group of survivors realize their only chance is to make their way to the deepest bowels of the ship, which is now at the top(because the ship is upsidedown, get it?), if they are going to have any chance of getting out and being rescued.
So they like climb up and I didn’t really get what was going on but I do remember Richard Dreyfuss’ kicking off this waiter who was hanging on to his leg because they’re like hanging on to a ledge in an elevator shaft and they Kurt Russel and Sweet Home Alabama guy can’t pull both of them up and one of them has to die so Richard Dreyfuss (whose character was gay) was like “I’m sorry love.” and kicked him off, holy shit! he died!
So they go through all sorts of trouble to get to the propellers and try to exit from there only to find out that they can’t because the big ass props of the ship will mince them dead! OMG! So one of them has to go to this room where they could shut off the propellers and they could all get out.
Unfortunately, the aforementioned room was submerged, you know, because the ship was UPSIDEDOWN and it was too far too and nobody can hold their breath that long. So Kurt Russel was like “I’ll do it, there’s nothing fair about who lives and who dies.” and her daughter’s boyfriend was like “I was a swimmer in high school and I have a better chance than you, sir!”
But Kurt was already gone and dying watery death inside the room where they could shut off the propellers before her daughter’s boyfriend could argue. So Kurt Russel’s character manages to turn off the propellers and manages to kill himself and his career in the process.
And the remaining people managed to get out and find themselves a life raft. The end. The audience walks out shaking their heads in disgust.
This is a really bad movie which I wouldn’t recommend to anyone because:
I give this movie a rating of 2 Leonardo DiCaprio collages:
There are two yearly occasions I dread most: Christmas and my birthday. During those times of the year, I pray hard for one thing to happen, and that is for someone to hit my mom’s head hard with a blunt object so that she could develop temporary amnesia and forget that I’m her son for a few days.
My wish may sound selfish, no, spiteful; but my mom is crazy! And I don’t mean “cute” crazy. Not “Gives me baths and does nothing all day but follow me around and embarass me in front of my friends by telling them how I used to eat my own poop when I was young” crazy. I mean, she does that but I wouldn’t really call her crazy just for that. She’s a perfectly sane person in every other aspect but she is simply not capable of giving me a Christmas or birthday present that I could actually use and enjoy. If this Christmas, I open a present from my mom and find a used prophylactic and three paper clips, it would mean that God, after years of totally ignoring me and being a jerk, has finally paid a little attention to me and made my wish of receiving a useful gift from my mom come true. Either that, or it’s my dad playing Santa Claus again. Boy, he sure loves that Santa costume. When I was young, I even caught him wearing it without the silly red pants while playing wheelbarrow with my mom. Ah, I digress.
To give you an idea on how awful my mom is with the entire gift giving thing, let me show you a list of some of the things I received from her over the last two or so years:
Thankfully for me, there’s this upcoming “special day” where I could sink my furious talons of revenge into my mom’s mortal flesh. That day, ladies and gentlemen, is called Mother’s day. Make no mistake, it’s PAYBACK TIME! Now it’s MY turn to give her useless gifts! My turn to watch her feign gratitude and appreciation for a thing that is totally useless to her. ME! MY! MINE!
So read on and learn a thing or two. Who knows, maybe you’re terrible with this entire gift-giving thing too and would like to learn how to make yourself much more terrible with it. Maybe you hate your mom and would like to ask me how you can poison her with common household chemicals (again my email is god [at] man-blog [dot] com). Or maybe you gave up on this article several paragraphs ago and proceeded directly to write me an email about how much I suck (I would like to remind you though that my mail client blocks emails with misspelled words like “SCUK!” or “STUPET” and “FAGGORT”; Please learn how to spell, it’s not that hard really.)
You know for a fact that your dad has been fucking his secretary. She told you herself after you fucked her yourself. So it’s fairly certain that dear old mum hasn’t been getting any. Give the poor woman some release and buy her the sluttiest dress you can find. Take photos and pimp her out on the internet.
Or go the direct route and take her late at night to your city’s Red light district where hopefully, she gets picked up by Israeli tourists who have 14-inch cocks, genital warts and a host of other HPV’s.
Take your mom out…
Or rather, let your mom out!
treat your mom out on this very special day. Let her out of the basement you’ve been keeping her to make fake Kobe Bryant shoes so she can get some sun for 20 minutes. Let her walk in the yard. You may opt to make full use of the time by making her mow the lawn and clean your car too! Hey, talk about optimization.
Quite literally. Eat your mom. I mean it’s not like the government hasn’t been feeding us the recycled bodies of people who have used government-sponsored euthanasia centers.
You think that’s canned sardines you’re eating? Well think again buddy boy, because those are pieces of people killed by the government in an attempt to keep knowledge of this form of cannibalism from the general populace.
What, you also think it’s 2006? It’s actually 3099 and you have been living a lie! Your ancestors failed to achieve sustainable development and they failed to put a stop to pollution and global warming. Fuel and food are scarce and the world is overcrowded.
The world is in the brink of a Malthusian Disaster and you should eat your mom—before somebody else does! OMG!
I apologize(again) for not being able to post as much as I’d want to lately. I know it’s not a big deal for most of you guys, but I’ve been getting a lot of emails lately asking me why I haven’t been updating as much. There’s only one thing thing to blame for me holding this entire blogging thing in abeyance and that is WORK.
You see, I’ve kinda been put in the helm of my company’s flagship product and unlike before when I actually can spend half of my work day polluting the intarwebs with my neurosis and general retardedness, I now need to put in more than 9 hours of work. And by work, I mean that in the "I have to REALLY work because everything I do from now on will be under close scruitny by upper management" sense and not in the "I’m going to pretend to be working on this spreadsheet for six hours when all I’m really doing is writing shit on my blog and The Man Blog. Oh and I’m going to take a leisurely 3 hour lunch now, bye!" sense.
Also, my new responsibilities include me setting up strategic partnerships with other companies and that means I, your favorite socially atrophied internet star, get to setup meetings and run presentations with management guys of other companies. And I know I’ve mentioned this before, but I’m going to say it again: PRESENTATIONS ARE NOT MY THING. I’M A VERY INSECURE, NERVOUS MAN AND IF YOU PUT ME IN CHARGE OF SOMETHING LIKE THIS, I AM GOING TO FUCK THE ENTIRE THING UP REALLY BAD.
Okay, I hope my bosses are not reading this but in the off chance that they are, I just want to say that sirs, you are great leaders and I love the company to pieces. I’m not even thinking of taking the job offered to me by one of the top call centers in the country even though they’re offering me a salary that is like 70% more than what I’m getting now. And no, I’m not asking for a raise; I guess all I’m saying is, well, I love you. And my job.
Anyway, after making a big fool out of myself in the last iBlog summit, I met up with the wonderful people over at ABS-CBN Interactive to discuss a possible tie-up between our product and Tantra , their awesome MMORPG. And as always, I was nervous as hell and terribly unprepared so on my way to the meeting, I did the something I thought would alleviate the anxiety I was feeling and that is smoking like 20 cigarettes in a row. So you could imagine how I looked like when I finally got to meet up with the people I was supposed to meet: I was sweating like a motherfucker, I reeked badly of sweat and thanks to my awesome deodorant which I forgot to put on, I had very gross pitstains on my gray shirt.
As expected, my presentation went about as smoothly as riding a skateboard on gravel.
My VP: [Insert fluffy introduction and overview of the product here]
My VP: …And to give you a capabilities presentation of the product, here’s Mike Villar.
Everyone in the room: [Looking at me, wondering why I’m sweating like a bitch when the room was freezing]
Me: [Trying to come up with an interesting introduction] Blogging is a global phenomenon. And I think you’ll all agree that although it’s not that popular locally, it’s slowly making its presence felt in pop culture. Even I have a blog, have you guys heard of "The Atrocities of Friendster?"
Everyone in the room: [Puzzled look, shaking their heads]
Me: [Disappointed with the fact that I’m not that famous afterall] Well, nevermind. But I made that, and it’s kinda popular. Anyway, I want you to turn your attention to the screen. This [pausing for effect], ladies and gentlemen, will change the internet as you know it. [Taps on keyboard, bringing up the beta version of the product on the screen]
Everyone in the room: [amazed / bored look. I don’t know]
Me: But you ain’t seen nothing yet! We have put a lot of work into our profile pages and we have created an app that allows you to aggregate all the data you have scattered all over the web into one convenient place. So, I present to you [Does a double somersault off a chair, executes a pirouette after I land. And yeah, I took off my shirt for emphasis] THE PROFILE PAGE!!!!!!1111 [clicking on the link]
Computer: [ERROR: Connection Refused]
My VP: [Smacks his forehead. Mouths "You are so fired"]
Me: Um…my shirt please.
Well I’m just glad that’s over, it kinda feels like I just had sex; only I’m not fumbling for my wallet and saying stuff like "I only have 300 bucks on me, but I could withdraw more from the ATM downstairs if you want."
So you see, I had a very bad week. And I really have nothing for you besides my depression, which I will try to relieve by popping an entire bottle of xanax later. You, girl readers of this blog, on the other hand can make me feel better by sending me pics of you totally wasted and making out with a security guard. Well he doesn’t have to be a real security guard, you can just like make your boyfriend wear a uniform or something, I don’t know.
Ah fuck you all, I’m gonna get myself a drink.
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
