I am in a slump. I have been seeing some of my old high school and college friends migrating to greener pastures, getting married and having families, getting filthy rich, or getting herpes. I’m happy for them, of course, but there’s a feeling that somebody is getting left behind. Mainly, me.
A general idea of how life treats me
Ok, not everyone is being awesome and throwing money around. For instance: I stumbled upon this old friend’s profile on Friendster the other day I saw that he was close to becoming a crack whore who’ll take it in the ass for a buck or two. So the fact that I am a rockstar makes me three notches better than him. But on the other end of the spectrum is an acquaintance who is reported to be filthy rich that he buys three cars a week for his infant kids. I suspect he made a killing in selling methamphetamine to crack whores, but that’s another story.
I know of another friend who’s writing the most awesome poetry and stories and is probably in line to win a Palanca Award. I was exchanging intellectual bullshit with her back in Lit class. She writes the most mind-boggling works and I end up writing retarded crap on the interwebs while humming the soundtrack to “Music and Lyrics” and masturbating to Supergirl’s upskirts on the comics I buy. Also, she writes porn stories.
YOU SUX0RZ ADE!
But during those days I don’t feel extremely emo, I actually have delusions of fame and grandeur and I throw money around, hoping that some girls with loose morals would see beyond the fact that I am fat and have boobs and give me a lay. I’m a rockstar, so it shouldn’t be that hard, right? Wrong. The last time I did that I had to run five miles to escape from a very murderous boyfriend who, in my humble opinion, should have his gun license revoked.
Also, I think I’ve become a rather creepy person. Just a week ago Liz and her friends interviewed me for their English project. They said that they needed to interview somebody famous for their project, but I have the sneaking suspicion that it was really for Abnormal Psychology and they just turned me into their case study. the interview went particularly well, though- except for one detail: they thought I was trying to drug their drinks and have my own way with them:
Liz: Now we have here with me the second-most popular editor of TMB (no shit, she did say that), Ade Magnaye, who’s gonna talk to us about his life as a blogger!
Me: Life as a blogger? My dear, when you blog, you don’t have a life.
Me: You just sit in front of your computer, write stuff and get paid for it, while you wait for your torrents of the latest pirated Maria Ozawa DVD to download and you can wank off to it-
Liz: Ade— we’re being video taped…
Me: Also, you do get to meet up with a TMB editor or two for some buttsecks every now and then…
Me: Also, why aren’t you guys drinking your coffee? I spent a lot of money on that roofie! You should at least drink it and get unconscious!
Liz: What. The. Fuck.
Me: I haven’t been laid for years already! At least nothing consensual. So drink the damn sleeping drug.
Guy classmate: Should I hit him with the shovel you told me to bring along, Liz?
Liz: Go ahead! He’s creeping the shit out of me!
Guy classmate: Ok. *takes a sip of the coffee, totally forgetting it’s drugged* Wait… where’d that pink unicorn come from?
*everyone stares in shock as guy classmate falls on the ground unconscious*
Me: He’s a guy. Not quite what I wanted for secks, but beggars can’t be choosers.
Granted, me and Liz patched things up and are now busily making cyber-babies on the TMB forum, but the point is, I suck at life. Badly.
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