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mcutesy

September 30, 2009 Leave a comment

One night, I was surfing porn blogs of hot guys, when someone so rudely interrupted my dirty literary fantasies. This ensues:

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mcutesy: ikaw ba yan? ha? bitch? akin sya!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

sassy_sinner_saint: uhhh

sassy_sinner_saint: sino ka?

mcutesy: maang maangan ka pa… akin sya, tigilan mo sya!!!!!

sassy_sinner_saint: ahh ok

sassy_sinner_saint: 🙂

sassy_sinner_saint: pano kung ayaw na sya sayo?

sassy_sinner_saint: 🙂

mcutesy: kasalanan mo, bitch ka talaga putaka

sassy_sinner_saint: kasalanan ko?

sassy_sinner_saint: pano ko naging kasalanan?

sassy_sinner_saint: na ayaw na nya sayo?

mcutesy: humanda ka

sassy_sinner_saint: come to think of it, parang ikaw ang may problema, not me honey

sassy_sinner_saint: 🙂

mcutesy: honey ka diyan, humanda ka sa aken

sassy_sinner_saint: im mortified, petrified, stupefied by you.

sassy_sinner_saint: 🙂

sassy_sinner_saint: sino ba sa kanila ang boyfriend mo? mejo nalilito ako e.

mcutesy: kita mo na, puta ka talaga, may iba ka pa kinakalantari mo pa yan

sassy_sinner_saint: can’t help it hun. sila ang lumalapit.

sassy_sinner_saint: hulaan ko.

sassy_sinner_saint: hmmm…

sassy_sinner_saint: si adrian? (blogger im stalking reading)

sassy_sinner_saint: or si dj? (blogger friend)

sassy_sinner_saint: or si richard? (Quest. I was watching CNN. What?)

sassy_sinner_saint: ?

mcutesy: haha kilala na kita.at alam ku wat you did… kaya pal a

sassy_sinner_saint: 🙂

sassy_sinner_saint: what did i do now?

sassy_sinner_saint: sino ba kasi yung boyfriend mo?

mcutesy: kinati puke mo kaya ka naghanap nang iba.. kawawang pobre haha at yung sa akin naman balak mo asuwangin? ha??

sassy_sinner_saint: woah woah

sassy_sinner_saint: harsh words

sassy_sinner_saint: its not me who’s kinakati

sassy_sinner_saint: if that is even a word.

sassy_sinner_saint: like i told you, they come to me.

sassy_sinner_saint: 🙂

mcutesy: uu nga, yung come nila gusto mo haha

sassy_sinner_saint: clever. ha. ha.

sassy_sinner_saint: you know, i can really use some help here.

sassy_sinner_saint: if you tell me who he is, i can tell you all the delicious details.

sassy_sinner_saint: 🙂

mcutesy: tigilan mo si XXX, akin sya! bayot!

sassy_sinner_saint: ahhhhh

sassy_sinner_saint: si XXX pala.

sassy_sinner_saint: 🙂

sassy_sinner_saint: hmmm.. lemme think about it… ok. sige sayo na lang sya! 🙂

sassy_sinner_saint: we’ve had some fun. but we’re over now.

sassy_sinner_saint: 🙂

mcutesy: siguromaliit titi ng boyfrend mo kaya mo dinispacha

mcutesy: haha

sassy_sinner_saint: on the contrary, i’ve had enough of big dicks. mas type ko na ngayon ang cocktail-size.

sassy_sinner_saint: 🙂

mcutesy: haha sige pa, makakarating sa kanya, alam ko na rin email ad nya haha

sassy_sinner_saint: go ahead, tell him. we didnt break up because im a good girl now, did we?

mcutesy: haha dyan ka na bayot! haha

sassy_sinner_saint: ok! toodles!

sassy_sinner_saint: 🙂

***end***

just when I was starting to see promise in the conversation. tsk. this could have been the highlight of my evening. now, that honour goes to my 5-minute bout with the gazillion-caloried maja blanca. I won.

oh. of course, i dont know this chick, and I have no fucking clue who the fuck is XXX.

so now, dont be surprised if a Facebook page of me with insensitive status messages and unflaterring photos surfaces. (Feelingera ako! Sino ba ako, si Jacque Bermejo??)

Nyahaha. People.

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Untitled 05

September 10, 2009 Leave a comment

Lorenzo “Ren” Derevko —superstar and super bastard. The son of Italy’s most powerful Mafioso by a Russian actress who harbors the thought that no name is better than her actor father insisted that her sons use them as screen names (because somehow she knew she will have nothing but sons and that they will all be famous), he dreams of becoming a chef, a strip club owner, and to bed as much women as humanly possible. Of all these, he fulfilled the last one. At 29, he’s the most coveted print ad model of all of Venice (thanks to the stolen shots arranged by his mother), owner of two Ferrari’s, and bedded most of Italy’s beauty (for he prefers his toys brainless). He has never had successive dates with the same woman for he says that he doesn’t make the same mistake twice. He’s smart, all right, but he’s too lazy to indulge himself with such tedious work.

His life has no direction, not even the vaguest plot.

One hot night, he was kidnapped, beaten to the pulp, and the next thing he knew, he’s in America, clothed with the ugliest hospital gown he ever saw, penniless. After being booted out of the hospital because apparently they needed his bed for other patients, he wandered in the streets of New York, disoriented, trying to figure out what happened to his fairy tale world, his fairy tale family, and his fairy tale sex life. He tried to con people into treating him to a Russian restaurant he saw (in a manner like when he tries to lure her women to bed), but who would give an Armani-clad, supermodel type free lunch?  No one in freaking New York.

Being his mother’s favorite son, he was the perfect opportunity that passed Donato Giambelli’s way to avenge his loss of a beautiful but cunning Irina, who saw more promise in marrying a powerful Italian Mafioso than a struggling actor. His father, on the other hand, is the known Giancarlo Medicci, lord of Italy’s feared Family, wondered who would be taking over their restaurant chain which is by the way, the front to their drug-dealing activities (they import their drugs with their veggies). Giambelli had Lorenzo thrown to America, made up a letter saying that he needed to find himself, things about personal space, make up his dreams, blah, blah, blah, because he knows that however Pilar would be hurt and want to be with his son, she would respect his decision and hope for his happiness and not go looking for him anymore.

Disoriented from hunger, with a killer headache, and with the skies threatening to pour, he entered the first door where most likely he would be able to get out breathing. The Russian restaurant that saved him and his Armani suit is owned, managed, and has its kitchen dominated by Theodosia Markov, a Russian immigrant who desperately needs a cook for Dyakuyu (Russian word for thank you). Ren, tried out and got immediate employment, thanks to his mother’s chicken kiev recipe, the only Russian dish he knows (all others are Italian). His chicken kiev was a success that Theodosia asked him to cook other Russian dishes, but all tasted Italian, for he was a trained Italian chef. From here, the plot revolves around Ren’s fulfillment of all the things that he never intended of doing. He learned life, love, sex techniques, recipes, divorce laws, writing a Chinese stop-short, how to negotiate with hostage takers and all other things he needs to know from Theodosia, the patrons of the diner, and his own experiences never to have taken place if he was in Italy.

After a year, Pilar finally gave in to Giancarlo’s plea of finding Ren (he convinced her because his other son, Vitorio, who was managing the restaurant for the family was very bad in math and was slowly bankrupting their business, was killed in a plane crash (he was squished by bananas he personally ordered from South Korea)).

But before they could start looking for Ren, he was back in Italy (he saved his earnings up from Dyakuyu for a business class ticket) with Theodosia.

At dinner with his family, he asked if they have an idea who would dare touch anyone of them but his family couldn’t think of anyone. But because of the outcome of that incident, he thought that there would be no point at knowing.

As they were chatting away, Ren asked Pilar if she had heard of the death of the famous actor Donato Giambelli. Pilar answered yes and added that Donato has been her second favorite boyfriend, next to their father. She also mentioned what a fine man he was for he left his fortune to a charity that rehabilitates alcoholics who were dumped by their girlfriends.

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Untitled 04

September 7, 2009 Leave a comment

I feel an abstract sort of explosion
As I read a sequence of epic battle in your eyes
Mines of reds and blues and violets
Mash-up with the notions of the past eight years.

Money well remains flowing
Energies keep on consuming
Avalanche of fire in the distance
Why the hell aren’t we burning up?

In the blaze, I’m wondering what we lost
But instead I saw that I have found a new playground
And in the corner, a seesaw of odds.

Then I realised I am ready.
We are the ones who most often surprise ourselves.

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