Diarrhea to Brag About

...one buritto from La Bamba and three glasses of Two Buck Chuck later, I sit in front of the computer going through the archives of my blog. Skimming through the past three months, I only wished that I wrote more meaningful stuff instead of the superficial things that go on my lazy life, so I'll try to avoid pictures and links in this thing as an aid to write about something worth anything. I just wish that my time was more than just work, drinking myself to sleepiness and being braindead in front of the TV screen.

The past months have been about work. Although I love it, I'm surviving and it gets exciting at times, I wish there was more to it. The challenge is gone. The whole buyout of a competitor has got me on my feet and dreaming about how great I can be, but this greatness is not what I picture myself being as my means of livelihood. I need to start writing again, real writing, and being creative again, or even try freelancing or something just to get a sense of fulfillment of my potentials. I didn't pick a particular college course and work my ass off for four years with so much passion to do what I do today. There is so much that I know I can do... I want to get back into photography, I have unfinished stories to finally put on paper, and unfinished scripts I'd love to see burnt on celluloid; I believe I am capable of making these things happen. I know that verbal diarrhea has never hit you with such unexpected fluidity as this very moment does; I have always pushed myself to be a workaholic and overachiever just to have the pleasure of silently showing off and bragging that I can be the best at what I am and what you've seen. Flush!...but I need something to brag about... can't brag about my Fantasy NBA team now since they dropped from 3rd to 9th in two days. Damn, I am definitely buzzed up right now.

Work is full of shit. I am the go to guy expected to make sacrifices to make things happen. With a full staff and seniority, my request for a better schedule is denied because I am "needed" on a certain day and no one else would be able to run things better. So where is the promotion? This has been pushed back more and more with the answer that I am making more money for the company now and for myself than if I were working in the back office. I know that if I could manage my own team, I would be able to turn things around, make everyone work the way I work and make even more things happen. I am the only one that gets along with everyone in the office, the only one everyone listens to, the only one that actually works and the only one everyone respects. Flush!

Enough about my verbal diarrhea and bragging rights. What's up with some of these blogs that I read, or even Friendster profiles? Talk about bragging! I could give a rat's ass about what people own. I can understand if someone is happy and writing about moving in a new apartment, buying a new home, a dream car purchase, or the excitement of winning something, but i could give a damn if you try and slip some extravagant-ownership-wannabe-ballatician-status move by uploading a profile picture captioned "taken with my Nokia 7610" or "posted from my Apple Powerbook". Who gives a damn?! I don't give a damn if your picture was taken and uploaded with a limited edition 10 megapixel camera phone encrusted with Swarovski crystals from Motorola that you transferred thru bluetooth on your modified G5 Powermac running on dual 2.5 Ghz processors that's plugged in the cigarette lighter of your Maybach sitting on platinum 22's while listening to Ministry of Sound's Ibiza Annual 2005 on your 40G iPod from your $300 Bose noise cancelling headphones while sipping on a mai tai and decked out in your La Coste V-Neck sweater, Ralph Lauren Polo Chinos and Salvatore Ferragamo shoes and looking out your window thinking, "gosh... Manila is a dirty and filthy place." Bitch, you're filthy for showing off what you have! I don't think more of you because of what you have. I think less of you by your attempt to make people feel like less when you brag about what you have. Get a life and brag about that. Ask mommy and daddy to buy you that.

Our neighbors are show offs too. With two new cars still with temporary registration stickers and an older car that was pricey during its day, I wonder why they live in our apartment complex. The complex isn't bad but at the same time it's not Silicon Valley ritzy expensive, but one of our neighbors chooses to buy cars that should belong in a closed garage of a gated complex with an armed security guard at the front post, which this complex doesn't have. And the guy has a punk bitch of a wife that looks at me as if I touched her Acura. If you show me that Bert monobrow stare again, I'll touch the "subscribe" button next to your address I fielded on the dildo catalog web site on my other browser window, cause your husband agony over his supposed incapabilities evident from "your subscription", only to have him slip on his tapered Tommy Hilfiger cargo pants and toe jammed tassled top siders and drive off in his new shiny red truck. This couple reminds me of dirty rich politicians from the Philippines flaunting their riches from corruption and walking with such clout... and they had to move into my neighborhood of average people so they could gain a sense of great wealth. Losers!

You can flush this all out if you want. Anyway, I don't have much to brag about. I will someday, and when I do, you won't hear a single thing about it from me. Damn, I'm buzzed... listening to "On Your Side" by Pete Yorn... I need a smoke... Flush...