A Love Letter to Helga

Wednesday, May 2, 2007

Helga,

First, a confession: The first time we met each other, I felt my heart skip a beat. I know this could easily be my cheese/cholesterol-encased heart's way of warning me that I am about to suffer a mild stroke but it could also mean that I, as with what I feel towards every girl who as much as looks at me, am madly inlove with you.

You're probably saying to yourself "Wait how could you say you're inlove with me when, besides our worsening alcoholism and addiction to cocaine, we have absolutely nothing in common?" Or less likely, you're probably saying "But you're Mike 'Fucking' Villar and you're famous and shit."

Well you can't be any more wrong. If you were Chinese, your name would be Helga Wrong and you would be living in Wrong Town. You see, we actually have more in common than you think. You and I enjoy (although clearly not on the same level because I am more famous than you are. I'm an A-lister, you're a C-lister. Think Brad Pitt, and I dunno, maybe that hobag petri dish of STD's who played Dr. Beverly Crusher in Star Trek: TNG) celebrity status in the local blogosphere.

Also because you're so hot and everybody wants to touch you all over, you probably get stalked a lot. Well I had my fair share of stalkers too. The first one ended up in homicide and the second one ended in awkward clothed sex in an inn somewhere in Cabanatuan City. Not my best moment but at least he taught me how to tie a cherry stem into a knot using my tongue. 

Now since there is really no way to pussyfoot around this, I might as well go out on a limb and say it: I think we should date and eventually have wild animal sex.

I know you're probably thinking "But you're ugly and creepy! Besides, you're 25 and you're still dirt poor! Also, you're not in speaking terms with your parents!" And really, all this is true and I have no excuse. (Although, really, I've been trying to reach out to my mom. I mean come on mom, It's been 6 years since I attemtped to poison you and dad. Get over it!) 

But really, I am not just some boring fat guy with a blog who spends most of his time sweating in his office cubicle whining about how someone should fix the air conditioning. Also, if we date and eventually have wild animal sex, it would be a win-win situation for the both of us. 

It'd be a winning situation for you because obviously, I am great with making out as you already know after we drank last Saturday. So you know, I've got the making out part down pat, Sex is an entirely different animal but we shall worry about that when we get there. Also, I'm famous and stuff so our (short-lived, and violent) relationship will be touted as THE blogger hookup of the century and we will be seen as the Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie of the local blogosphere (Although, I'm fatter and more sexually aggressive than Brad. Nothing two lines of coke can't fix.) 

It's a winning situation for me because…I dunno, maybe because I can touch you in all your fun places.

Trust me, when we start dating, everything would be pure bliss. We would live a life of reclusion for two years in a log cabin somewhere in Bulacan where I will feed you with my mouth, fatten you up a bit and if things go smoothly, maybe even grow your AZN boobs a little.

After two years of intimately getting know each other, being in love, domestic violence and over-eating, we will re-emerge and return to our respective careers: You, a Corporate Travel Specialist and me, a professional Cockfighter.

So that's all I have as far as my proposal would go. I am not asking you for an answer now, in fact, I want you to think about it. But please don't think about it for over a week because I fear of what I'll do to my brother (who sleeps beside me at night) if ever I don't get to touch a woman very soon.

Waiting for your reply,
While downloading Anime,
Biting my toenails,
and  rubbing my bird through my pocket,
in the office,

Mike 'Fucking' Villar
Rising Internet Star