Mike Villar: Now also a rockstar (or soon to be a rockstar. Whatever)

Sunday, July 9, 2006

It's been  a year now since I first started blogging and this blog has become witness to my slow, painful ascent to internet semi-superstardom. My first few months of blogging was spent chronicling my then fresh heartache involving my then girlfriend leaving me for a romantically alluring middle-eastern shiek whom, I found out, was very rich and had an elegantly shaped penis with a spur that latches on to a girl's uterine walls during intercourse. Okay, I made that last part about the penis up, but I guess what I'm really trying to say is that I hope you're happy with your hairy Arab guy and I hope you're getting sexed enough because I am getting more sex than I can handle. And not just normal sex mind you, but like mindblowing, hardcore threesomes with some of the country's hottest amateur masseuses. You bitch. (Please note that the part between "And" and "masseuses" is entirely false. You know, just in case my new girlfriend "#24" is reading this. I love you baby, and I want you to know that your rough, calloused hands has touched my bird in a way nobody else ever has.)

I don't know exactly how it happened, but like four months into this entire blogging thing, I found myself the darling of the third world's blogosphere. It wasn't long before the press started referring to me as "A rising internet star" and "The Hardcore Masturbinator" (by "press" I mean "me" and my friends and officemates whom I have bribed and/or harassed).

I am happy with whatever little fame I have at the moment. You see, being a rising internet star allows me to live a low-profile life yet still enjoy the occasional perks my celebrity status offers. I could still pretty much get myself wasted in any bar, break a couple of bottles, indecently expose myself, and get beaten up by the bar's staff, all without my face being plastered all over the local tabloids.

Just the same, I enjoy the sporadic instances when I'm in a party and I'll be introduced to a random guest as "the guy who came up with The Atrocities of Friendster series" (seriously guys, these are not even my best articles. Get over it) and they'll be all like "Oh really?! I love your site! I used to read it everyday until your writing got all soft" and I'll be all warm and flighty inside. Then I'll feel terrible when I overhear them a couple of minutes later saying:

Guest 1: "You see that guy over there? He's supposed to be this famous internet star, he wrote that entire Atrocities of Friendster thing."

Guest 2: "Really? Wow, I love his blog. Although, I never thought he's that unattractive and unfunny in real life, not to mention fat. Oh my God, is he okay? He looks like he's gonna have a heart attack."

Guest 1: "Or a seizure. I think his mouth is frothing."

Guest 2: "Let's get out of here pop some E and make out or something, what say you?"

Guest 1: "You know it!"

Also, the fact that I'm famous makes for a good pickup line. I have this habit of telling every woman I meet just how famous I am hoping they have questionably low morals, and in hopes that they'd let me finger fuck them because you know, girls are suckers for famous people. I haven't had any luck on this yet because more often than not, this is what happens:

Me: "Well you know, I'm sort of famous in the internet. My blog gets like 4,000 unique hits a day. I actually wrote a post about you this morning, why don't you check it out?"

Girl: "First of all, I don't even know you. Second, What the hell is a blog?"

Me: "A blog's like an online journal, and I wrote about you on it."

Girl: "That's kind of creepy."

Me: "Yeah, so can I buy you a drink?"

Girl: "no."

Me: WHY DO YOU FEAR WHAT YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND!!!? [being held down by like four security personnel, crying]

Recently though, I found a way to sort of balance my internet fame and my real life fame. Remember when I told you guys about my dream of being a musician? Well I sort of found a way to make that happen. You see, I was having a drink with some of my old friends in the neighborhood and we decided to start a band. (A real band with guitars and shit. Not a girlband)

For those of you who don't know, I'm a pretty decent guitar player and I was dubbed the "most entertaining vocalist" in my high school. I don't know if being the "most entertaining" translates into having an inkling of talent but that should do.

The problem is that the band we're forming is a total genre shift from what I have gotten accustomed to. When I first started playing the guitar back when I was 16 (3 years ago), I played really easy songs from local bands like The Eraserheads, The Teeth, The Youth, and other cheesy-ass bands. After years of playing, my fingers which at first, weren't flexible enough to form the most basic chord patterns steadily developed into limber animals that moved about frets with such grace and fervor. My once weak wrists which had problems holding down 6 strings simultaneously to form barred chords became strong and steady thanks to the training they got from furious, ambidextrous masturbation.

I found myself playing more complex songs and thanks to my newfound coordination, I became the frontman for a three-piece grunge band called Nirvana.

Anyway, the problem with my band right now is that I'm not playing the guitar. They want me to fucking sing, which would've been alright if I am to sing songs within my range (like my hits: All apologies, Lithium, and Smells like teen spirit), but they want me to sing fucking Trash Metal.

What the fuck.

Anyone who has heard my voice knows that I cannot possibly pull that off, unless of course they want a Trash Metal band who has a vocalist who sounds like Joe Pesci.

Well it's too early to tell. But stay tuned for updates, because I might be the first person to successfully transition from being a famous blogger to a rockstar.

Also, if you have suggestions as to what we should name our band, email me at god @ man-blog . com; because seriously, the names I have so far suck:

• Lambe with eggs (which was actually the name of my previous band)
• Five guys sitting infront of a garbage can playing a classical guitar while drinking Red Horse (my favorite so far)
• Hillcrest Rich Kidz
• Mike Villar and the Low Lows
• Metallica
• Iron Mayhem (this is just lame)

Well just email me dammit. You owe me that much.