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Dear Ashley,

Hi. Remember me? I’m Ade. Am I glad to find you here on Formspring! We met back in college. Remember the party that Lloyd threw? The one where Sheena ended up puking all over your dress? That’s the one I was talking about. I just want you to know that I spiked Sheena’s orange juice. Didn’t know she had a low alcohol tolerance. Sorry.

Also, yeah, I know I had whiskey dick that night, and you promised to call me back once we’re sober but you never did. What the heck is up with that? (more…)

Dear Future Zombie Overlords,

How are you guys? I know you’re really not into small talk, and there really is no reason for you guys would want to talk to us puny humans, especially after the Great Zombie Uprising of the Future will decide that we are inferior to the undead.

I don’t know where I’ll be when the time comes. I can hope to be alongside my fellow living humans, fighting for human survival, and probably kicking zombie ass every now and then. But since we all know I have the survival skills of a prairie dog, I’d probably be zombie and I’d be the fat stinky zombie who will comically stagger towards the female love interest of the hero. I’ll also get my brains blown out within five minutes of the Great Zombie Uprising of the Future. (more…)

Dear dude who was fingering his girlfriend on the MRT,

First off, I applaud you. It takes much effort to doodle the noodle in public. Really. I mean, with all the people around seeing you excavate the Tunnel of Love, it takes guts. You’ve got balls of steel to solder on while people turn away in disgust.

You see, I was beside you today while waiting for the train. You, me, your girlfriend, and a huge crowd. I kinda knew you were double-clicking her mouse because she was squirming all over the damn place. Hiding her crotch with her big-ass bag was a nice touch, though. It really made the scene more obvious, but still, nice touch.

No, I wasn’t talking about your touch. Ass.

So finally, the train entered the station (hyuk, hyuk, I made a funneh) and I tried to get away as far from you two as possible. Goddammit, why the hell did you two decide to get a seat in front of me where I can see you two flip the light switch repeatedly? And OF COURSE you had to stop digging in so you two can put on shades. Yeah, like that’ll hide your identity. Very subtle, really. (more…)

Dear Neighbor’s Stupid Dog,

How are you? I see you everyday, but you know, I’m usually busy with “hurrying to get to work” or “running away from your sharp fangs” to greet you. And during the times I’m not preoccupied escaping your jaws (which from this point onwards I shall call “Fangs of Rabid Doom”), you just sit in your stupid little corner eating your vomit, and all those other stuff only dogs do.

Anyway, I’m writing because I hate your guts. No, not in the general “I hate dogs with a passion” sense, but I really hate you. Yes, you Neighbor’s Stupid Dog. I am singling you out of all the dogs in the world to be the target of my scorn. In fact, of all the people I can write my open letters to (“the fat guy who thinks he can squeeze into the MRT space barely enough for a bulimic Tibetan monk”, “the girl with the big gazongas who likes to smoke downstairs whom my officemates creepily leer at”), I just had to write my first open letter of the year for YOU. (more…)

Dear Girl Who Accidentally Touched My Bird in The Elevator,

So I was standing in the elevator minding my own business, right? And I was busy talking to The Mordo and Helga, minding my own business when your group just came in barging. I counted between 7-10 people. It should’ve been an ordinary crowded elevator moment. But you had to come in, texting and not minding your surroundings and swinging your arms like crazy. Yep, swinging your arms like crazy in a crowded elevator.

Guess where your hand landed.

Reenactment

So, Girl Who Accidentally Touched My Bird in The Elevator, I usually don’t mind. Accidents do happen, you know. But it was really amusing to see you stop in your tracks, freeze for around thirty seconds, panic written across your face. At this point I was so fucking trying to keep my laughter in. So I decided to do what any other gentleman would do in such an awkward situation: stare at you and keep the awkwardness up for the long elevator ride from the 25th floor down to the ground floor. (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 Nose,

So how are you doing? I sure hope that all is well and good, and that you and your family (that little thing we call the “respiratory system”) are doing great. I do my best to take care of you all by not smoking, trying hard to not breathe in pollution, and by not inhaling anthrax. So I must be sure you’re doing good. I wish I could say the same for me, but here’s a little problem: you’re making me fucking sneeze all morning long.

It’s the first day of my Christmas leave, you see? I woke up after an awesome full night’s sleep (one of two things I haven’t had in a long time. The other is secks) expecting to have a busy day ahead, with me torrenting lots of movies, porn, games, and basically being a bum. A busy bum. Awesome, right? Well, I thought it was going to be, until hay fever kicked in. (more…)