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A few months ago, I talked at length on the pitfalls of being the Gay Best Friend Only Straight. And if you don’t remember (or too lazy to click that link), I concluded that girls treat me as such because I’m too nice. I mean, not nice enough to trust me with your sister, but still nice nonetheless. Well, months have passed since I made that conclusion, and here’s a progress report:

Progress? What progress?

Yeah, girls still treat me as a GBFOS. Other guys envy me because I can seem to get into the girls’ trust zone immediately and not set off any “rapist alerts”. But I tell you, it’s not actually pretty in there. Mainly because women treat me like a eunuch and you tend to learn things that you can be happier off not hearing. Like that time this one girl was having her period and she actually pulled a blood clot the size and shape of a squid out of her privates. Cringing now? Now you know how I feel. (more…)

Okay, I know they suck and all, but I’ve been too cheap and lazy to buy a new pair of iPod earphones ever since my Sony in-ear buds broke early this year. So I’ve been spending months using the stock ‘buds that came with my 2nd gen nano. They actually sound better than the (broken) ones that came with my old (also broken) shuffle, but still sucky nonetheless.

But as of yesterday, my earphones finally gave up the ghost.

So yeah, I have a two pairs of broken iPod ‘buds and I’m currently using the stock earbuds that came with my dad’s Sony mp3 player (yes he has one. My dad is cooler than your dad). And I seem to have a bad track record with my rather expensive consumer electronics. I suck like that. (more…)

Once upon a time in a kingdom far, far, away, a young princess named Rapunzel was trapped in a high tower. Her hair was radiant, like sunshine in a darkened room. Her skin was as white as can be, and she was absolutely beautiful. She was trapped in this tower for five years, and she was as bored out of her wits. She ran out of Maria Ozawa videos to watch already, and besides, she hasn’t seen a single soul since she was trapped in this prison. The Dark Lord Voldemort had trapped her in the tower five years ago when she refused to play with his “magic wand”.

The tower was surrounded by every single thing that can pretty much protect it from rescuers, intruders, and looting blacks: moats, alligators, a tropical jungle, gigantic flash-eating sentient thorny plants, well-endowed superhuman rapist Koreans, and Teri Hatcher (who apparently hates the Philippines).

Once every two weeks or so, somebody would usually try to rescue Rapunzel, but to no avail. They all seem to get lost within the jungle and are eaten by the gigantic flash-eating sentient thorny plants. Every now and then though somebody gets past the security measues. Yes, they can get past the Koreans even. But nobody can’t seem to get past Teri Hatcher, who screams “Look! A diploma-holder from some medical school from the Philippines!” before she murders the poor sap.

But it is all about to change. A young prince from the enchanted kingdom of The Enchanted Kingdom named Andrew had heard of the story of Rapunzel. In fact, he was able to view Rapunzel via webcam the week before and he had fallen madly in love with her. His Livejournal had been filled with love soliloquies for the princess ever since. (more…)

I’ve had a Facebook account for some time now and it’s been pretty good to me so far. I love dicking around with the apps in Facebook, and yeah, my account is kinda cluttered right now due to the 100+ apps I installed on it. I’ve actually been meaning to get rid of an app or two, but I’m having too much fun poking Sasha (I swear, it’s not as dirty as it sounds), defenestrating Steel via Superpoke, drawing penises on Baddie’s profile, and buying beer for everyone. Okay, the beer is virtual, and free, but it’s the thought that counts, right? No? K.

But I digress.

You see, I’ve noticed that some of my friends, namely Adam, Mike, Fritz, Lauren, Pau, Steel, Helga and Bim, have taken a keen interest in this Facebook app called Warbook.

It’s this game where you build yourself a kingdom, hoard gold and land, build an army, and when your army becomes strong enough, you attack other kingdoms and pillage their land and rape their women. But of course, you have to protect your land and defend your women from retaliatory rape.

The sort of woman you have to protect from rape.
It doesn’t take much to protect them. They sort of repel rape by themselves.

Of course I find this talk of war and murder and pillaging and rape boring. Okay, not the rape part but let’s not go there. You see, I am a cultured man and I take no interest in destroying the lives of millions of (virtual) subjects for the sake of war glory. What a barbaric. So I refused to partake in this “Warbook” thingamajig, thinking that I’m better off Superpoking all my female friends on Facebook (again, let’s not think dirty, people. Please). (more…)

I, along with the other editors of The Man Blog shall be observing a week of reverent blog silence for Joseph Michael Racoma, youngest son of J. Angelo and Caren, who passed away early this morning.

To the Racoma family and to all those whose lives were touched by Joseph Michael, you have our prayers and deepest condolences.

I dunno if it’s the weather, or the season, or just whatever, but I am again going through another bout of emo. I mean, it’s crappy and all when I’m in the middle of an insulting session with some fairy midget and then suddenly my life flashes before my very eyes:

Yeah, my life just bored the living hell out of those three Caucasians, and I don’t even know them. See, my life’s exciting like that. And for that very reason, depression comes in. And whenever I get depressed, there’s no better way to prove I’m slowly losing my grip on reality, I’ll again talk to an imaginary vestige of my subconscious. So guys, say hello to my inner child. He’s right here beside me. Can’t you see him? No? Freaks.

INNER CHILD: I hear you’ve been going through a lot of emo lately?
ME: How’d you know?
INNER CHILD: I’m residing in your your subconscious, duh.
ME: Oh yeah–
INNER CHILD: I IZ IN YER SUBCONSCIOUS WATCHIN YOU FANTASIZE ABOUT–
ME: Kid, in case you’re forgetting, this is my blog and I don’t like to be humiliated here by an underage fraction of my subconscious.
INNER CHILD: I know. Because you’re doing that too well on your own.
(more…)