My, my.

You opened a can of worms, my friend. You probably didn’t mean for that to happen, but it did. I can feel you inching farther and farther away from me, further proof of how guilty you’re probably feeling about everything. The way you acted that one night changed the way we would be for the rest of our days.. And I’m willing to bet every cent I have to my name that you know full well what happened—hell, you can probably pinpoint the exact moment you fucked things up. Know how I know? ‘Cause I can, too. I did. I knew it was happening. I saw it right before my eyes. I didn’t think to stop it, though. Probably because I thought you knew what you were doing.

No, scratch that—I hoped you knew what you were doing. I prayed that you were awake and aware of the way you set the drapes of my mind on fire, aware of the way the flames shone through the windows of my eyes. I pleaded with all of my heart: please tell me he’s doing this on purpose.

But you weren’t. No one ever claims to be when they’re drunk.


Men, Boys, Feelings, Etc.

1. You are emailing me random “good mornings” and “thank yous” and “have a nice days” and it is starting to slowly drive me insane. Our thread has stuck its big toe beyond the professional line and is inviting all the other toes to get in on it. Instead of telling you off for being too personal, I actively reply to your emails as if we were long-lost long-time friends-not-quite-lovers rediscovering each other’s warmth. You smile at me from far away, stare at me a few seconds longer than is acceptable, and I basically do everything you do to me, to you. We’re playing the same game, on uneven playing grounds.

One major disadvantage I have: I am not married.

2. You tell me about your recent anxiety attacks and make no mention of the love I had for you just a few months ago. I give you life advice straight out of my ass.

3. You are, consistently:
a) bothering me while I am working, telling me that I deserve a break and that we should go for a smoke
b) providing me life advice about how I can go about my problems based on your working knowledge of things and life
c) constantly sharing your complaints, ideas, dreams, plans, experiences, opinions, and occasional lewd jokes and farts
d) tell me that I am not as worthless as I think I am, in a very roundabout manner
e) wait for me when I am not yet done with my work, and ask me if I will be taking the shuttle with you (which I shouldn’t really, but I do, every time you ask)
f) are ubiquitous in my life and are starting to seem like a long-lost phantom limb trying to reunite with my existence
g) keep telling me about these girls, and keep talking to me about this one girl, and I hate you for it for some reason I don’t understand
h) never answer me straight when I ask you why you do all these things for me
i) always, always look at me when you think I’m not looking

Ylvis – Someone Like Me

Excuse me, miss
but do you like the dubstep?

May I present to you Ylvis, the Lonely Island of Norway (though apparently they were in the business years before than the Dudes). Ylvis is actually two people, brothers Bard & Vegard Ylvisaker (with IPA symbols I am too lazy to look for)—both are hilarious, extremely good-looking, have funny accents that manage to sound sexy, and can actually sing. The blond angel singing in this genius piece of musical + dubstep is Bard, and your ears are testament to the fact that the boy has got some serious singing talent. The lady with the beautiful voice I am not entirely familiar with, though her face does resemble WIllem Dafoe’s (I don’t mean to insult! Willem Dafoe is a very handsome man!). I will probably never get tired of this video, since I have already dipped a toe into the realm of dubstep some time ago and reluctantly embraced it. This video  + song, however, is a total game changer, and I am seriously considering listening to more dubstep in the future, because I now recognize it more as a genre than a subject of online ridicule.

My horizons widen and broaden again, thanks to Swatdojo and Ylvis.

In Which Dave Franco Fucks Himself, Et Cetera

I am in love with this boy and I have the weirdest lady-boner right now.

I first noticed him in 21 Jump Street. Later, I found out he was also in Superbad, and recently in Now You See Me. One thing these films have in common is that all of them have the Seth/Jonah/Michael/Jesse thing going on, either in whole or in part. Another is that I fucking love these movies. And another is that I fucking love these boys (except maybe Danny McBride). No wonder I liked this Franco the moment I noticed him (because I didn’t, not right away). And now I find that he is a gorgeous human being with the same sense of humour I loved in Seth Rogen et al. Plus—and I never thought I’d say this about anyone without wanting to throw myself off a bridge—he has a killer smile. I swear it, his smile is the first one I would concede to calling killer. I’ve never seen a smile as charming and disarming as his (not even Johnny Depp? No, not even.)

This is a Funny Or Die video, mind you, so don’t take it seriously. He does a lot of these, apparently, with Christopher Mintz Plasse (more commonly known as McLovin, and is also extremely hot); more than a few with running themes of homosexuality, all of them hilarious. I am also slain by Jay Baruchel, who seems to be more similar to Mintz Plasse than Franco in that they are both geeky- and gawky-looking and totally smokin’.

All of these feelings were brought about by This Is The End. It was nowhere near as good as Superbad, but I laughed myself to tears just the same because it was all so damn stupid. And all of them (except Danny McBride) so damn HOT. So yeah, blame the funny guys for setting alight my female hormones, and Funny Or Die for making videos with Dave Franco and sex in them.

As a parting gift, here’s a video of Dave Franco and Chris Mintz Plasse trying to make each other horny in the middle of a field.

Catching Up And Stuff

The internet has been a bitch back here in Baguio for more than a month now. I don’t think it’s going to get any better any time soon. It worries me because the academic work is once again piling up and you know how I am, I always need the internet as reference. But at the same time I’m a little relieved, because I now feel only a little to no urge at all to obsessively check my Facebook every few minutes. The crappy connection still gets on my nerves, though, especially when I’m cramming stuff and the damn page I’m using as reference won’t load; I feel like I grow an aneurysm every time.

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