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Hello there, dear reader. My name is Ade. And I run this blog. And I may or may not know you. You might be following my blog since time immemorial, or you may have just stumbled upon it from a couple of links here and there. Or maybe you’ve stumbled upon my site from Google.

Yes, Google. Now let’s talk. You see, dear reader who got to my site from Google, I’m getting really worried about you.

… ’sup?

 

You see, I’ve been getting a deluge of really weird search terms that are really bordering from “weird” to “just plain fucking disturbing”. No, seriously. I run a humor blog here, dear visitor. I know that somebody mistook my site as pr0n and tagged it accordingly on StumbleUpon, but trust me, I’m trying to make sure my site is as family-friendly and as G-rated as possible.

(Also, by “family-friendly”, I’m talking about these guys, but whatev. Family schmamily. Semantics. Also, by G-rated, I’m talking about the use of shit, piss, cunt, fuck, cocksucker, motherfucker, and tits as often as possible, because, you know, kids need to start to learn these things early in life.) (more…)

Little-known fact about me: I used to be part of UST’s Campus Ministry back in college. Yes, I used to volunteer and facilitate recollections, retreats, and similar activities. And yes, I also stood on stage and danced some charismatic songs in front of freshmen. And talked about Jesus and his love. A lot.

… Shut up. (more…)

Hi,

First off let me get the obligatory inroductory speech out of the way. My name is Ade Magnaye, blogger extrordinaire. Internet celebrity. Rock star. Stalker magnet. Member of the awesomiffic group of perverts and child pornographers, The Man Blog. I usually order Chai Tea Latte, in the hope that you won’t see me as the usual frappucino-ordering ilk and that you see me as posh and shit. I bring my laptop everytime and pretend to surf the internet, but seeing I can’t afford your shop’s stupid expensive wireless, I actually stare at my desktop wallpaper every single time. I go every every other day to the coffee shop you work in so I could ogle at your wonderfully beautiful chinita face from a distance. And wank off in the bathroom.

(more…)

Dear Stalker,

It’s been three days since you started to call me up. I know it must be cute for you to call me up three times in a row when I’m working and twice when I’m in the shower. And you probably think it’s cute to just shut up and giggle like a schoolgirl when I ask who the hell are you. But that time you called me up at 3:30 am when I was dead tired was too much.

Problem is, I don’t think we’ll work out. I don’t know who you are, what you do, what you look like, or even if you really are a girl. I don’t know anything about you, except your number that makes me groan in agony when I see it flashing on my cellphone screen. You could at least text me and say “Can we be TEXMET?” so I could text you back a big fat no. But no, you keep calling me, keep annoying me, and keep on giggling like a schoolgirl on crack.

I’m sorry, we can’t be together. We are just too different. I don’t waste my time calling up people at random and subsequently stalking them. I waste my time stalking people at random over the blogosphere. Yes, I also giggle like a schoolgirl when I stalk people, but that’s different.

Besides, I. Have. A. Girlfriend. I am NOT interested in somebody else. It is a law of nature that committed guys are genetically unable to have crushes on another girl (Especially Jessica Alba), so I cannot, by any law of nature, like you.

So I hope you understand, and please stop calling me. If you want somebody to stalk, I can give you the number of my good friend Roel who has been complaining of a dry spell these last three months.

Sincerely,
Ade

P.S. Go to hell.