Tuesday, June 23, 2009

bura

Walking and looking for the famous Iloilo biscocho and other whatchamacallits when I was in Iloilo the other week, I saw a Villa Estrella in one of the streets. When a news came out of some similarly named estate claiming to be disparaged by the upcoming horror vehicle, I surmise it was that. I didn't even bother to take a picture because I would run the risk of posting it here and then I could be in some really big trouble. What I learned though is that while marauding in unchartered streets, you run the risk of stepping on poop. You're busy looking at everywhere.
I recently learned that Anne Curtis, my only favorite artista whom I'm crushing on for a long time, swoons over Bloc Party. You know... Bloc Party ba... I like the band, who happens to be, again, British, though not as ultimately, ultimately as Anne. It's another straw to my liking her more. Did I mention I got to meet her? She doesn't remember me of course. Back when she spent hapless, unfortunate days as a stereotyped talent in that other network. Gosh, this is senseless.

6 comments:

Visual Velocity said...

Have you seen her Rogue mag cover from last year? It's divine.

jayclops said...

I heart Anne. If only she could bear my child.

Visual Velocity said...

Good grief, ehehe.

ungas said...

yeah. i do remember you meeting anne, sa sm yata.. then she said something like "the people are so warming" (?) haha! ewan. basta yun yon. in short gi libak nimo xa sa iyang gi sulti with matching facial expression pa.. hahah! funny. pero gwapa baya xa. manda! haha! =)

jayclops said...

yeah ains i remember that. it was the first time i saw her in person. but it's such a small, trivial thing i can't forgive her for. my love for her encompasses such negligible slip of the tongue. hahaha.

The Scud said...

i wasn't a big fan of anne until I saw her a few weeks back in the flesh in gb5. ang ganda. im in lab. :D

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