Rock Band, crying over nothing, emails

Monday, July 24, 2006

It’s been a while since I posted personal shit in this blog. The reason for me putting blogging here in abeyance is that most of the little time I have left from working more than 9 hours for my company is spent compensating for the utter laziness the other editors over at the Man Blog are exhibiting.

Don’t get me wrong, I think that The Man Blog is the single greatest blog in town and I totafuckingly love everybody who contributes to it (in a purely heterosexual way of course) but guys: Do you think we can fucking write more? An article a week like we all agreed on when we first started the site? I mean, I don’t have a problem covering for your asses once in a while but guys, you have to understand that I am just a man! I am not the literary dynamo you think I am. I run out of things to write about too you know! And when that happens, I plagiarize stuff from Something Awful and it’s only a matter of time before I get called on it.

Also, like I said earlier, I have a job to which I devote more than 9 hours of work a day. I love my job, I love the people I work with and the fact that I keep seeing that really hot curly guy who hosts TEXTTUBE at the office next door. With that said, I’d like to say for the record that I will never, I say again,  NEVER, even think of misallocating company time by posting to my, nay, ANY blog during work hours.

(HR people, if you’re reading this, I’d like to remind you that my contract expires on the 1^st of August and I was wondering if I could renew it for another year. I kind of need the money. Also, ever since I became a celebrity the 16 grand a month you give me cannot cope up with my lavish lifestyle anymore. So you know, it would be awesome if you could throw in a raise in there too. That is all. )

Anyway, what is up with Mike “Fucking” Villar? Well let’s start off with the non-computer related stuff I’m engaged in. Remember when I told you that I joined a totafuckingly rocking band and we met this big time record producer in a bar then he offered us a record contract and like free sex with his underage… Wait, that didn’t happen! Man, I’ve been writing so much lies in this blog that sometimes I couldn’t even remember what lie I told before; you know, to at least have continuity in my stories. What? And you’re perfect? Fuck you.

So yeah, although at first I had qualms with regards to singing for a thrash metal band, I’m proud to announce that things are starting to tighten up. I realized that my voice sounds pretty good singing trash shit as long as I scream my fucking head off and I have maximum echo coming out of the amp my microphone’s connected to.

As of the moment, we covered the shit out of Metallica’s three best albums (Ride the lightning, Kill ‘em all, and Master of puppets thank you very much) as well as a couple of Sabbath and Pantera songs. I don’t want to get stuck with covers though and I’m planning to write way softer compositions for us to play.

The problem with this is that except for myself, my band has zero musical IQ. The songwriting process revolves entirely around me and although I’m an okay songwriter (moment of humility, please don’t spoil), I need feedback from everybody especially in terms of what guitar riff would go best with what mood the song I write is trying to evoke.

This is a major problem considering the different musical influences each of us have. JL, my best friend and our bassist, is into rap metal and post-grunge shit; Leslie and James, our guitarist and drummer respectively are both into trash and stoner rock; and I am into the mellower stuff—actually way mellower stuff like Boyz II Men, Brian McKnight and Destiny’s child.

You could only imagine how difficult it is to consolidate our ideas and turn them into songs:

Me: So yeah check this out [plays and sings a song I wrote]: “Used to pray for one reprise, but now I fear your misleading eyes…”

JL: Dude, too soft. We need to Rockify it somehow.

Leslie: I agree man. Why don’t we start off with this? [Plays a really stupid beat that reminds me of cheerleading contests]

Me: [Quite happy that everybody’s putting their two cents worth on my song] Yeah we could try that out, I actually think I need to rock this a key lower. I originally wrote this to be sung by a girl you see.

JL/Leslie: [both murmur in agreement]

James: You know what would totally rock ass? Why don’t we put some sort of spoken shit just after my solo?

Me: [pleased] That could work! Especially since the entire twist of the song is that it’s being read off a letter written by somebody who died…

James: I’m actually thinking of quoting something from The Bible dude.

Everyone else: …

James: You know something from the book of Revelations. That’s some really scary shit. Or maybe a passage from the book of Moses…

Me: You mean Exodus? [Thinking of a way to let him down gently or basically tell him how his idea sucks salty balls] Well, what I have in mind is for this song to be a power ballad, but if you can establish some sort of connection between reading biblical passages and the mood of the song, then I’m all ears.

James: Well you see, your song is about lost love right? And there was a lot of love lost between the Jews and God during the time of Moses right? Besides, Moses liberated the slaves man! And isn’t that like why we’re playing? To liberate minds?

Me: I don’t know dude, I think that’s a little too much for this song, why don’t we try that on one of our heavier…

James: Liberate your mind man, LIBERARTE YOUR MIND! [does that stupid rock symbol. With his thumb.]

Me: It’s not that I don’t like the idea, it’s just that…

James: You’re no Moses dude. You’re not even a fucking Abraham!

Everyone else: [stifling chuckles]

Me: What has that got to do with—

James: Liberate your mind man! And maybe THEN you could be fucking Moses.

Me: I want beer. You want some beer dude? Anybody else want beer?

I know you’re like “WTF MIKE! Cut the musicel shit and get to the funnies already! You stupet wannabe pozer lol!!1” But come on! This is the only non geek stuff I could be proud of right now. I’m just so excited to see how all of this would turn out that sometimes my excitement oozes forth in the form of urine on my underpants. So you know, don’t be jealous, start your own band or something instead of raining on my awesome parade.

– 

For those of you who just tuned in and only now realized how awesome this blog is, I’ve been suffering from bouts of panic attacks. For a few months, I’ve sought medical treatment for my condition and have only recently broken off my relationship with my shrink.

It’s not that I don’t think the treatment’s doing me any good. Au contraire, I feel that the treatment has helped me a lot in terms of both coping with my anxiety disorder and understanding it. The thing is, psychiatric treatment costs a lot of money and I don’t earn enough to continually seek it. I realized that I’m too poor to pay 2,000 pesos to see my shrink twice a month. </violins

Actually, I’m now spending my 2 grand on alternative treatment(read: getting massages from my “girlfriend” in Majestic Monumento) so all’s good.

The problem is, recently, I’ve been experiencing extreme mood swings and I find myself crying over the littlest of things. Earlier today, my brother and I were planning to watch Nacho Libre but we ended up totally missing it and settling for stupid Pirates of the Caribbean no thanks to the fucking PlayStation.  Was pirates good? Hell fucking no. Am I gonna masturbate to Keira Knightley with the aid of an empty cola bottle later? Most likely. Bottom line is that I’m bummed out for missing Nacho Libre.

Anyway, suffering from Jack Black deficiency, I popped in School of Rock in the DVD player. The movie was a moderately funny movie but the strange thing is that during the funniest scenes, I got all upset and started crying. What the fuck’s up with this? Is this even normal?

I seriously think that all I’m just craving for female companionship. I mean REAL companionship and not the ones you pay thousands of pesos a single ejaculation for. I need to start dating again but even this is a challenge considering that I am in the IT industry and we all know how women in the IT industry look like.

So, the problem really is that I’m not meeting enough women. And this is where you could help me out. If you know anybody with questionably low morals and self esteem maybe you can hook me up. Send over a picture, contact details and a summary of her criminal record (if any) to god @ man-blog dot com. That is all, thank you.

–

If you ask me what my inspiration is as far as blogging would go, I’d probably say cocaine and emails like this:

Your writing makes me laugh out loud.  Which is noteworthy because (1) things are rarely funny in print; (2) you have good grammar; and ( 3) I' m a pretentious, hard-to-please, stiff-ass ed lawyer.

       You should really think about charging people for access to your site.  Let 's discuss it sometime.  And my cut.  Kidding.

       I thoroughly enjoy your work , and just had to send a recognition (which, like many other millions claim, " I don' t usually do") ,

       Mia

I don’t know what it is about my writing style but I just realized that there are a lot of lawyers who read this blog. Now the questions that begged to be asked are:

1.)             Mia, are you single?

2.)             If you are, are you looking for a boyfriend?

3.)             If you answered yes to question number 2, do you mind if potential boyfriend is 40 pounds overweight?

4.)             And cannot consummate the relationship? (when drunk)

Seriously, keep them good vibes coming. These are the only real reasons why I continue to publicly make a fool out of myself on the internet.

And about charging people for access to my blog; I don’t think so. I just don’t believe that’s the way to go. Although I wouldn’t mind a book or TV deal like Jason Mulgrew over here. I’d give up a testicle if I could even be half as famous as the fucker.

I know there are like Magazine people who read this shit, come on guys, let’s keep an open mind here! If People Magazine in the US can feature an unattractive, overweight blogger as one of their 50 hottest bachelors, why can’t we?

Think about it.

Have a good week everyone!