"Miggy" needs your help

Sunday, October 15, 2006

I am going to tell you guys a story about a “friend” but not before I lay down a disclaimer before you which, I must say, is imperative for you to fully understand: This story is not a veiled attempt to chronicle a personal experience that involves marijuana, a lot of alcohol and possibly even rape slay (I really don't remember). I would also like to remind everybody that I recently got myself a new job, so any insinuations linking my identity to that of Miggy's (The name of my “friend” which we're going to use for the purpose of this story) are not welcome. Or not true. Semantics. Thanks.

Okay so last night “Miggy” got invited to his friend Francis' birthday party. And although very tired from a week of hard work, he decided to drop by because he heard that there'll be a lot of foxy chicks in the party. You see, “Miggy” hasn't touched or been touched by a woman without the said woman being drugged up or compensated monetarily first.

A little backgrounder on Francis: He is known as the neighborhood's party needs store. Whatever you need to breathe life to an otherwise boring party, Francis has it: From expensive designer drugs to budget party staples like marijuana: chances are he has it in stock and he can give it to you at ridiculously discounted prices.

It's also worth mentioning that the quality of Francis' marijuana is probably nothing like you've ever tried before. It's kinda like a secret mutant type of marijuana bred deep in the heart of some Latin American country where it has kept Aztecs high and happy for thousands of years.

I guess what I'm saying is that the weed in Francis' party was pretty fucking awesome and there was plenty of it to go around. So, after just a couple joints and a few bottles of beer, “Miggy” in all his inebriated glory, was giving away money to the other guests in the party and was telling everybody how rich he is and how he invented a contraption he calls a 'bicycle'.

As we all know, trying to relay something you find funny while you're high out of your mind to somebody who's not is futile. The fact that “Miggy” successfully alienated and caused most if not all of the passable-looking girls in the party to leave after he whipped out his sorry excuse for a penis and put hot sauce on it is the best testament to this.

With all the bangable girls gone and with the mighty triumvirate of alcohol, marijuana and lust coursing through “Miggy's” system, he, along with a few party guests decided to head on to the local strip club to hopefully get some action. This would've been perfectly fine I guess but “Miggy”, being bombed as hell as he is had this delusion that he is rich beyond imagination going on when in reality, the money he was giving away earlier and the money he is about to spend on the strip club is the money he has to live by for two more weeks until he gets his next paycheck. Not to mention that CitiBank is about to abduct his little brother, Ryan, and hold him for ransom until he pays his five-digit credit card bill, a card that he maxed out on a “health club”called Majestic last month.

So yes ladies and gentlemen, “Miggy”, after spending close to two thousand pesos and only getting a hand job from a prostitute in a back alley out of it because he doesn't have enough cash on him, is SERIOUSLY FUCKED.

In light of this tragedy, I am now accepting donations on behalf of “Miggy”. The poor bastard's probably going to spend two weeks at work eating instant pancit canton while dodging the pity glances of his coworkers. Don't let this happen, if you have any money to spare, please don't hesitate to ping me at god [at] man-blog [dot] com and I'll make sure your donation gets to “Miggy”. He also told me he accepts sexual favors. That is all.