Thursday, March 08, 2007

holy mother of God!

At the end of the day, you're washed out. The people you've been trying to call and coordinate with have been summarily annihilated by H.G. Wells' tripods. Your brain cells are in dire need of nourishment. And then comes an email with the blessing of the Bluth family. Guranteed gas spasms and throes of hysterical laughter.

Eto na ang mga 'okrayable' friendster profiles. As it is!

Elaine:
>>"do you like listening musics? how about swit musics and rocks? (
anu raw, bato?) by the way, it's good meeting new peaple. (pinya ba yun? )

mitch:
>>"hi to all of you i want to have friends like you just chat me if you want too"
>>"i grew up in manila then i go to usa for vacation"
(talaga lang ha, halatang halata...)
>>"im a shy lady when it comes for boys" (hahaha! Laking states ito! Wohoo!!!)

'marlaX':
>>"mah hair s quite long and sleek wit a bang"
(pumuputok? happy new year!)
>>"i hv ds pierce on mah upper left ear" (sinong pierce yan?)
>>"kaya pls lng wlang poporma at wag mgbalak manligaw dto!"
(ui, dropping hints! style mo!)

Princess:
>>Affiliations: im friendly and everything:)
(goodness... .)
>>im fund of music...
(fund? ahh edi ibig sabihin mayaman ka? hehehe)
>>"i want to... build a Europian school here in the Philippines " (mayaman nga....)
>>Who I Want To Meet: "im open for all..."
(7-11, Ministop?)

I know you want more...

2 comments:

pat said...

friendster unleashes the inner jologs in some people.

ang friendster nga naman..

insulare said...

hahaha laftrip!

Choose life. Choose a job. Choose a career. Choose a family, Choose a f—king big television. Choose washing machines, cars, compact disc players, and electrical tin openers. Choose good health, low cholesterol and dental insurance. Choose fixed-interest mortgage repayments. Choose a starter home. Choose your friends. Choose a three piece suit on hire purchased in a range of f—king fabrics. Choose DIY and wondering who the f—k you are on a Sunday morning. Choose sitting on that couch watching mind-numbing, spirit-crushing game shows, stuffing f—king junk food into your mouth. Choose rotting away at the end of it all, pishing your last in a miserable home, nothing more than an embarrassment to the selfish, f—ked-up brats you have spawned to replace yourself. Choose a future. Choose life . . . But why would I want to do a thing like that? I chose not to choose life. I chose somethin’ else. And the reasons? There are no reasons. Who needs reasons when you’ve got heroin?

Renton, Trainspotting