Silly Rants that Nobody Reads

WARNING: Severe preaching. Cuss words. Occasional crap scattered about. Watch your step.

Sigh. There's only so much one can rant about THE great blunder, Twilight and Co. As of the moment, I cannot think of more shit to dish on the cliche-turned-bestseller, not that it's due to lack of trying. There are just more pressing issues to vociferate on and on and on about. Take, for example, people who measure their self-worth with the pairs of shoes that they have, how much dough they trash on handbags, clothes, bling... ya know, all that shit that's supposed to make a woman's world go 'round.

Psh. What a load of bullcrap.

I don't really have a say with what you do with your parents' hard-earned cash, but I'm going to do it anyway, since this waste of virtual space is MY blog. *insert evil cackle here*

I've always wondered how you could sleep peacefully at night with this hanging over your head(if you do have a conscience, that is).

Wait. You probably don't sleep at all. And methinks it's not because of your conscience bothering you.

Tell me, what kind of perverse atonement do you derive from flaunting your plastic wares for all to see? And when questioned about your unorthodox garbage choices, why do you spout psychological, marketing balderdash that just makes you look more like a faker than you already are?

Rona: OUCH! Is that a burn or is that a burn?!

You might be thinking right now, Ooooooh, it's the ugly green monster rearing its head, poor widdle teenie who can't afford even a single handle of my LV handbag!

Believe it or believe it, it's not envy talking. It's actually my indignant, self-righteous bullshit that's talking. And I admit, it's worse than the green monster because this cannot be soothed by mere delusions of a panoramic grandeur. Whatever that is. And hey, this isn't about me. It's about YOU. For once, someone's giving you the spotlight without you having to hog it all to your selfish self. How good does that feel?!

You talk about how you deserve all this crap because of countless Herculean tasks (ooooh) that you have to endure every single day of your life, but you never did walk the talk. It's human nature, really, to amplify one's suffering for the justification of one's hankering for worldly goods, but YOU took it to the next level. Bravo. Not.

Believe it or not, there are more people out there who suffer more than you do. There are girls who are not only dumped by their boyfriends, but are also knocked up and left to rot in child support. There are students who do not even have to worry about what clothes they should wear to classes the next day, because they're not even sure if they could go to classes at all. There are wives who have more things to worry about than just their kids and their husbands. They have to think about how to hide that hideous bruise from that ugly row last night, how to deal with the whispers and knowing stares of neighbors who have nothing better to do with their lame lives, how to survive the day under the pressure of abuse.

You have it easy. And you're probably thinking, with the way your twisted mind works, Okay, sure, I know about those cases, but I can't save everyone. What do you want me to do? I'll just take all these precious BLESSINGS since I deserve them. GOD wouldn't give them to me if I didn't deserve them.

Oh, and I suppose your precious God thinks those penniless college kids deserve to be penniless, and those abused wives deserve the abuse?

Okay, I'm getting off-topic. Back on track.

Lookie here, I'm not expecting you to help everyone. No one can achieve that (well, except maybe for Bill Gates, Warren Buffett and Carlos Slim Helu combined, but that's beside the point). I'm just hanging on desperately to that slim chance that you'll realize the MASSIVE insignificance of your Nine West shit when you bite the dust. Permanently.

If you can't, then just keep your sinful (LOL. I said sinful! That sounds so...Pope-ish.) lust on the down low. You don't have to flaunt it in front of people who do not give a damn about your latest purchases. You're just making more enemies along the way.

On the other hand, you can flaunt all you want in front of me. It's so amusing to pretend that I'm sooooo interested in your latest designer piffle, while I'm really rolling on the floor guffawing. Figuratively, of course.

Sigh. I don't feel pity for people that often. You should be proud. :)

This Post Seemed Mandatory, So...

Pacman bagged the match. Again. Well, that wasn't so surprising, considering the fact that he's the Pound-for-Pound boxer (or something like that. Heck, I don't even know what that means) and he beat the crap out of Oscar dela Hoya.

And Barrera. And Larios. And Morales (who I think is a damn fine piece of Aztec specimen. Yum. :D)

What shocked me shitless was the fact that Ricky "The Hitman" (psh. right.) Hatton barely lasted two rounds. TWO FRICKIN' ROUNDS! C'mon! That was pathetic.

Well I guess we can't blame him completely since his trainer is a pompous...um...posterior who probably underestimated Pacman. AND I've seen the replay of the legendary sucker punch that felled the British on slow-mo, so I guess he deserves a teensy bit of sympathy. I was surprised that his jaw hadn't dislodged or something.

Or did it?

Anyway, I'm no fan of Pacquiao, and I would rather he lost the match due to some reasons (ahempoliticiansflockingtohimlikeparasitesahem), but it's nice that another Filipino has hogged the screens and spreads. I was getting sick of Charice Pempemngco I could barf up my dinner everytime she appears on the news. Ugh.

craptaker: *glances around cluelessly and scratches head* What the hell is this place?

rona: *appears out of nowhere, like a nasty fungus* It's your blog, shithead.

craptaker: *frowns and makes herself seem like a bigger idiot* What's a...blog?

rona: Dumbass. *rolls eyes and stomps off into hell-knows-where*

craptaker: *sprawls on the virtual floor and stares at the header* Hmm...blog...blog...

Merci beaucoup, mes amis :)

It's over.

Rona: Yeah. It is.

Tempus fugit. Freshman year had been a blur. Parang rumaragasang Porsche Carrera GT lang. Wooosh. Speed.

Should I recap the events, my (mis)adventures and frien(emies) that I made?

Blah. Wag na.

Ngayon nga lang, hirap na hirap ako magisip ng sasabihin. Siguro dahil sabaw pa ang utak ko dahil sa finals. Oh baka dahil talagang nagbakasyon ang utak ko, inunahan pa 'ko. Sana neither.

Nga pala, salamat kay Thea at Cheska sa masasayang pagkakataong sinipag akong umattend ng English 1. Wala tayong ginawa kundi magdaldalan sa likod (at kumain, courtesy of Cheska). Ang dami nga nating natutunan. Hindi nga lang galing kay Ma'am. :D

Salamat kina Morgan, Ivy, Kenji at Nikki na kasama kong kinabahan sa mga pamatay na graded recitations ni Ma'am Gripaldo sa Kas1. Mamimiss ko ang pagiging boy-crazy niyo, lalo na sina Ivy't Kenji. :D

Salamat kina Venice (seatmate!), Danielle at Roxie dahil nagenjoy ako sa pangbabalahura natin kay Ma'am at sa kanyang aversion to heat and ceiling fan noise. Pinapatay niya lagi yung ceiling fan kasi maingay daw, pero naiinitan naman siya. Ano daw? Pati na rin kina Harmond, Vic at Precious na talaga namang masayang kausap, salamat. Mamimiss ko ang ating English 12. Except kay Ma'am. At ang tendency ng kanyang mind to...wander to places we (the students) cannot reach. :D

Salamat kay Ate (!), Cheska (ulit) at Jomar dahil at least di ako nakatulog sa NatSci1 dahil sa kakornihan ni Dr. Abastillas. Pero aminin na natin na ang kanyang halakhak ay certified shock inducer haha.

Salamat kina Carlito, Alvin, Pam, Alyssa, Noelle, Regine, Alyanna, Lord (tao ito), Hender, Rainbow, Eliza, Maricris at Angel dahil naging bongga ang French 10 at 11 ko dahil sa mga dynamic at kakaiba niyong personalities.

Salamat kina Jen, Andrew, Hazel, Ian Kim, Rosie, Claire at Chindie. Kayo ang mga kasama ko nang una kong maexperience ang ma-boycott ng isang propesor. You know what I'm talkin about. Enough said. :D

Salamat kina Morgan (ulit), Cheska (ULIT. haha) at Zy dahil sama-sama tayong nagrelax sa Bio1 natin kay Herrera. Uy ang taas ng grade ko dun, walang report-report yan. :P

Hindi ko maaaring makalimutan si Neil. Salamat sa 'yo. :)

Salamat kina Slegna, Martha, Miho, Lei, Kuya Justin, Armand at Lea. Masaya ang MS1. Si Ma'am, hindi.

Salamat kina Meilee, Ramil, Rea at Neil (ulit. *insert lovestruck sigh here*). Mabuhay si Ma'am Roderos. Pero ang mga exams niya, please lang. Kinailangan ko ng blood transfusion matapos lumabas sa classroom niya. (read: execution chamber). Kahit dugo ng manok pinatos ko na.

Salamat kina Trish, Faye, Aicel, Julie, Laura, Daryl, Melissa, Criselda, Nico, Jaimee, Abi, Ate Abi, Claire, Karla, Gorby, Philip, Angelica at Steff. Goodluck naman sa atin. Feeling ko probi ako. T___T

At syempre pa, hindi ko maaaring malimutan sina JIHAN, SARAH at ROSELLE na simula pa lang ay kasama ko na sa masalimuot na mundo ng EL. Mahal ko kayo, mga kaibigan. :D

Naging makabuluhan ba ang unang semestre?

Ikaw ang magsabi.

Coming Out the Closet

I am an atheist.

Whew. Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?

Self, I beg to differ. I might as well have said that I am a lesbian (which I am not), and I would have received a much calmer, and certainly warmer, acceptance.

Scratch that, I wouldn’t have been accepted. Period.

That is not my melodramatic self talking, nor is it the manifestation of my tendency to exaggerate. We would have to accept (and admit) the fact that atheism in the Philippine setting is like trying to piece together wrong puzzle pieces. The Philippines is a widely Christian country and a Muslim minority where religion is an integral part of society and culture. Our history is heavily influenced by religion; though we cannot be certain whether the effects of which have done more good than harm, it has, nevertheless, augmented the growth of our country. Moreover, it is apparent in Philippine history that the Church has had an encompassing influence over the governance of provinces.

Having established that, I can reiterate that atheism does not have a place in Philippine society, considering the fact that its foundations are deeply entrenched in dogma. It cannot flourish as a justifiable substitute for those who are starting to question their beliefs and it certainly does not help that most theists’ reactions are those of disdain or even disgust when an individual divulges his being an atheist. It is treated like a disease; probably on a level of intolerance that homosexuality receives. This pushes most non-believers into “hiding”- choosing to remain silent and “in the closet”, instead of speaking up, lest they be treated differently by their peers and family.

http://s202.photobucket.com/albums/aa144/Primate_bucket/?action=view&current=cartoon20060222.gif

On a more personal note, when I expressed indifference about a Christian-themed T.V. series that a family member absolutely adores, she said things that bordered on bigotry and discrimination. Naturally, they hurt coming from a family member, yet no matter how I forced the thoughts away, I just couldn’t help but think, Wow, those are your so-called Christian virtues, huh?

I ended up trying to keep my mouth shut and taking all the things she said in stride. Had you heard the words, you would have thought that I was in a cult worshipping Satan and killing innocents as offerings. Yep. It was that bad. (I just want to clarify that I have nothing against Satanists; we all have our beliefs, anyway. Or in my case, non-belief.)

There. I have “come out of the proverbial closet”, so to speak. Now, I am only waiting for the raised eyebrows (best case scenario) and disownment (REALLY worst case scenario) that I might receive from certain people.

Plato help me.

Expect a month-long hiatus. College is squeezing my brain out of my nostrils, frying my hair into non-existence, crushing my metacarpals into fine dust, turning my eyes into a lovely shade of crimson...well, you get the idea.

If you ever find yourself in this situation (which is highly probable if you are in the same university as I am), fear not. There shall be light at the end of that dark, dank, stinky and professor-infested tunnel. At first, it will seem like the tunnel goes on and on and on and- well, you get the idea. Trust in...in the..erm..blue books. Yeah that's right. There shall be light.

And so my hibernation begins.

Advertising for Twilight

*I apologize in advance to friends of mine who might be offended with this. But honestly, offended or not, you guys know it's true, right? :D

...And so, my friends, it is expected that with the mass-mania of Valentine's Day comes the biggest mistake of the human race since Demi Lovato. You know what I'm talking about right? Yeah. Twilight.

But hey! This is not just the usual, asscrack shit that Twilight never fails to be. It's actually worse! Aside from t-shirts, hoodies, TRACK SUITS and bags, there are actually Twilight-themed Valentine's Day Cards! How utterly deranged is that? Capitalism has never made a bigger blunder, but let's face it, it hasn't made a bigger profit before this, either. I've seen multitudes of this zoophilia-craze worshippers sport "Mrs. Cullen" , "Team Cullen" , "Bite Me" and "Do I Dazzle You?" statement shirts that project no statement at all besides "Me: Stupid", but Valentine's Day cards? You. Have. Got. To. Be. Kidding. Me.

A Twilighter-friend of mine told me about these...things. She's actually planning to order some online and even told me about this site where one could buy all Twilight-related crappola..I mean...stuff. Here is something that gave me helpless LOLs:

Did you know that Bella Swan is into necrophilia? Given that she let Edward Cullen's bee partake nectar from her (formerly) virginal flower of forbidden pollen in Breaking Dawn, technically, she's a necrophile. And now you're all jumping into the bandwagon? Being a necrophile means you're messed up in the head, people. Wanting a dead, sexually-deprived, teenage-boy-poser ancient man pop your forbidden cherry isn't awesome. It's a massively epic mistake. Tsk, tsk.

This is the card that I was talking about. Well, this and a lot more. "The outside world holds nothing for me without you." Apparently, Meyer must have dreamt of a guy saying that to her, but it didn't happen so she poured out her mushy, school-girl necrophilic sicko fantasies into the greatest shit* that ever hit the shelves. Wow, I am finally a Twilighter.

NOT.

If you want to waste cash and get a hold of these things, I got them here.

And the craptaker's verdict on this perfect crap? A shining, shimmering, sparkling 10 for necrophilia and bestiality.

(*Hey. At least I wrote "greatest" shit. That must count for something.)