A few months ago, while starting on my current line of work, I was struck with a rare epiphany and I was inspired to examine my life and work out some goals in order to make sure that this damn waste of oxygen I call my life finally gets some direction.

In that same entry, I wrote that one of my goals in life is to become a rockstar. In case you don’t remember that particular snippet of thought (or if you’re too lazy to click on the link), this is what I said:

Job Description:
I’m the frontman of some talentless band like Cueshe. I can’t sing, I can’t dance, I can’t play an instrument, I can’t even hold a tambourine properly, but music critics are hailing my album as the greatest thing since sliced bread. I’d be famous and banging chicks left and right because of my pathetic display of my non-talents. However, I’d be so drunk in the morning that I won’t even remember the fact that the seemingly hot chick I hit on a few hours ago was actually my equally drunk male guitarist.

How to Achieve Goal:
First, I need to find a bunch of musicians that are amazingly talented but are willing to waste their gifts so we could form a band that’ll play my three-chord songs with lyrics that are variants of “I’m single and I’m so sad 🙁 .” We’ll advertise our uniqueness by labeling our music as “emo”, “goth”, “epic rock”, or some other uninspired tag that we just made up.

Job Benefits:
I’d get the chicks, the cash, and all the crap that goes with it. And fall into a drunken stupor.

Then I’d wake up and realize that I’ve wasted the last ten years getting drunk and I’ve lost all my money.

See? With benefits like that, who wouldn’t resist the allure of the rockstar career? Also, it’s a great way to pick up chicks:

(Me spotting a pretty girl at work)

Me: Hey there sexy lady! I’m Ade –
Girl: Go away.
Me: But I –
Girl: I know who you are. You’re that guy who hides behind the bushes at my backyard. I thought we already slapped a restraining order on you?
Me: That wasn’t me! Also, did anyone told you that you have poison ivy in your backyard? It gave me major rashes in places you don’t wanna know!
Girl: Go away or else I’ll use my intensive Tae Kwan Do training and Mace spray on you and you’ll go home with only one testicle.
Me: But I’m a ROCK STAR.
Girl: Oh please, you’re not scaring me you freak… did you say ROCK STAR?
Me: Yes.
Girl: I love you. Father my children, please?

And this is the part where I politely turn the girl’s generous offer down because I have a girlfriend and I’m that chivalrous and all that noble stuff, but you already knew that.

And check out the physical benefits of turning into a rockstar:

From this:

To this:

DISCLAIMER: Results vary from person to person. Sometimes you turn into:


Well, I did go one step further in achieving this goal by forming a band with my officemates and joining in our company’s annual Battle of the Bands. We called ourselves “Two Days’ Notice“, because, well, we were offically designated to be our Sites’ representative two days before the said event. So we had to form a band and create a decent repertoire within two effin’ days. I’m not kidding.

Also, we won third place.

Did somebody ask for pictures? No? Too bad.

Hi-res pictures and more at my Flickr. (I’d upload more, but I maxed my upload limit for this month. Sucky, I know. Some idiot forgot to resize the pictures before uploading.)

Also, thanks to Clang for taking the pictures while we were onstage.

UPDATE: I uploaded the complete set to my newly-created Multiply account.

Also, don’t just lurk! Comment! Yes, I’m a commentwhore.

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