Tuesday, December 25, 2012

half-sober half-drunk don't tell my mom

I feel like I just blinked and it's almost the end of 2012 already.

But I'm not here to talk about Christmas or how 2012 was and shit. I'm here to talk about being cool online.

I'm an expert. Ask my mom.

I'm just kidding. Don't ask my mom. She doesn't knwo.

So there are people who still have difficulty being cool online. It's like you can still feel their awkwardness through the internet and sometimes, it's gets too painful to watch them try.

Yeah, there are times that my own words offend me.

So while I'm trying to regain my almost-popular status that I had about two years ago, I decided to reformat my blog for 2013. You know, like when TV viewers lose interest in TV shows so the producers decide to kill off characters and add some new ones? Or try to sexy it up because sex sells, apparently?

But I'm not going to do that.

Or maybe I will.

Because I want to be so much cooler online than I am in real life.

(There was supposed to be a drawing of me here saying "Hmmmm" but I can't draw and my hand isn't fully functionla at the moment so just use your imagintion.)

So here is my plan.

First, adding the sexy.

Do you guys like pole dancing?

There you go.

You're welcome.

Second, I'll start Internet slangs more. I know I use OMG and OMFG a lot but these don't make me cool enough. I need to use more.

Like, if people unnecessarily use fancy words to sound smart and try to memorize the Thesaurus to use in conversations to impress people, I'll use the Urban Dictionary to sound cool.

Okay, I changed my mind. I searched random words on Urban Dictionary and then I saerched my name and I didn't like some of the results.

I hate Urban Dictonary now. With a passion.

But I'll still probs use more slang words because it totes make peeps cool.

Third, I'll gangsta' my blog up. I'll change my blog name from Thank Goodness for the Good Ones to:

OMFG, that's so dope!

Don't tell me you don't think I can rock it.

I'm a newbie at this and I don't know a lot of gangster-y words but I found a website called Gizoogle OMG is it awesome.

It's time to learn shiznit.

You remember the post where I told you the perks of adopting me? I think if I had discovered Gizoogle then, it would have gotten more response and one of you could be have offered to adopt me now.

Because I translated that post now and look what happened:

It's neva' too late to reconsider, yo!

I also Gizoogled Taylor Swift's song.

And maybe if she had known about this, Kanye wouldn't have hated her so much.

I also gizzoigled quotes by Confucius and i'ts awesome.

These are some of his famous quotes:

 And these are the doped-up quotes.

Uh. Don't tell me you don't like it better.


So yeah. I actosally forgot wehre this post is going. I'm sorry. I fail at life.

Haha. Remember when I said that on my video blog?

Of course you don't.

Sometimes I wonder if pets roll their eyes when humans baby talk them. because when I hear girls baby talk their boyfriends, I roll my eyes. It makes me want to vomit in their faces OH MY GOD STAHP.

Im'n ot saying I'm a pet. Don't think I said that.

Half of this blog post was written sober and half was writne drunk. It's up to you to figure out which part was written sober. But don't waste yiour time. It's okay tont to know. I'm also using Dvorak keyboard so don't tyr to check if my typos are acceptable by looking at your keyboard. I know I have typos because of the red squiggly lines under my words but it's okay. Hannah Montana once said nobody's perfect.

Oh and Merry Christmas fuckers. You all are awesome! I really mean that. Shout out to the birthday boy!!! Don't drink too much.

What am i doing with my life?

I have to go. I have to work on Christmas day. I actually should be sleeping already because it's late.

Rmember the apocalypse? me neither.

Monday, October 15, 2012

How to Deal with Negative Feelings

People who don't have negative feelings are full of shit.

(That's the best intro ever, I know. Aren't you proud, internet friends?)

So I have this problem where, if I am not close friends with a certain person, I would have a hard time telling them something that I think would be mean, even if it bothers me so much, and it sometimes hurts in the chest.

So when this happens, I ask a few trusted friends what to do. But sometimes, there are friends who would go, "Oh if I were in that situation, I would tell them to fuck off and leave me alone and punch them because I'm upfront and straight to the point and tough and a badass and I don't care about anything."

But once they are in a similar situation, they don't do anything.


While some of you may not have a problem telling people to fuck off *raises one eyebrow*, there are also some who think that there are better ways to deal with shit.

Because who knows, maybe the asshole who did something that bothered you is also going through something and you being harsh to them is just the sign they've been waiting for to set themselves on fire?

It will be in your conscience, you know.

I can be very enlightening sometimes. You're welcome.

So what do I do when I'm in this situation without, you know, being harsh?

Personally? Aside from blogging, I draw. A lot. I draw wholesome things. Kid-friendly things.

Writing your feelings down and drawing are both very therapeutic. Not only will it get your head off of that thing that bothers you, but the colors can help you relax as well.

Plus, it doesn't require exercise so how much win is that?

Here are a few samples of the things that helped me tolerate the day-to-day annoyances that I go through.

Sometimes, I channel my inner 3-year-old and embrace my innocence.

At times that I have bigger problems, I go really deep and edit pictures hipster style* because some issues are just too hard to face and accept.

Like lies.

Or betrayal.

Or anger.
I'm pretty sure he's humping some bug. Or a worm. How nasty, this cat.
Sometimes, I take things harder than I'm supposed to.

And it's just hard to move on.

There are times that I'm confused.

In life, there are battles you have to face, in which you'll get wounded.

During the times that I can't express what I feel, I quote lines from movies.

Or deep lyrics from songs.

It helps me express what I feel without hurting anyone. And it's very artistic. Even my laptop does it when it's starting to feel tired and overused.

So when life gets tough, my dear readers, don't lose hope. There's always a way.

You're welcome.

Wednesday, September 19, 2012

How to Deal With Arrogant People Part 6493

I asked the people on Facebook (AHEEEEM) if they have a suggestion for a blog post and someone requested that I write a post on how to annoy an arrogant friend.

I have already written a lot of posts about arrogant people in the past, but there's no reason for me say no to this request since no one else actually gave a fuck about my Facebook post.

And besides, her suggestion/request is awesome.

So anyway, let's go straight to the topic.
Adj: Displaying an exaggerated sense of of self-worth or self-importance.

Synonyms: Proud, conceited, cocky, braggart, asshole, motherfucker, piece of shit, pain in the ass, ignorant, coward, insecure, throat-punchable, etc.
Arrogant people aren't that hard to spot. They are EVERYWHERE. In order to deal with them, you have to understand what they are going through, where they are coming from. Because all they need love and understanding.


Arrogant people expect that everybody loves them. They have this sense of self-worth that if they are loved, they think they deserve it and if they are hated, they think the other person is just insecure or intimidated. Because what's not to love? They are perfect.

Some arrogant people think that they are the prettiest thing their parents have ever created.


No. Don't do that. It's too violent.

The best thing to do is to stay calm. You can bring them back to earth. Just have faith.

Or something.

1. The Diversion

An arrogant person consistently talks about THEM and how important they are and how much they contribute to the world even if they're not doing anything. They also get offended when you correct or disagree with them. So here's what you can do:

If you run around the room while screaming, this will work better. Just imagine...

This won't make them humble but will definitely make them shut up.

But you'll look totally ridiculous. That's not my problem.

2. The Hug

Hugging is the subtlest way to make them shut up. When your arrogant friend starts bragging shit...
The world revolves around this asshole.
You look at them straight in the eye, shake your head and whisper, "No."

Then hug them. Tightly. Like they're the most important thing in the planet. Hug them like the special fucking snowflake that they are.

You need real tears to make this work.

But to make this work EVEN better, you need a background music.

Make a ballad version of Avril Lavigne's Complicated and play it while you're hugging your friend.

3. The Last Resort

So since arrogant people think everyone either loves them or is jealous of them, there is a huge possibility that my previous suggestions won't work. That is why you need another way to deal with them.

Arrogant people are insecure and the only way they know how to deal with their insecurity is to bring other people down. If they go overboard in bringing you down so they can feel better about themselves and you can't take it anymore, I think it's time to be a little bit harsh.

Yes. Tough love.
I hope I helped.

You're welcome.

The gifs aren't mine.


I think I need a Dear Gnetch thingy on this blog. Want advice on things? I give awesome advice, you know? <---- SUPER HUMBLE.
So if you need some "advice" (suspicious quotation marks), you know what to do.

Thursday, August 23, 2012

*UPDATED* It's Out To Get Me. I'm Sure Of It.

Do you ever just sit down and realize how the weather may somehow have something against you and that it hates you so much?

Just me again? Okay.

Because I think it hates me. We've had this issue before, the weather and I, and guess what? It's still not done with me.

For example, during summer, the heat is unbearable. Actually, not just unbearable. It's OH-MY-GOD-I-WANT-TO-SLEEP-ON-A-HUGE-ICECUBE unbearable. Like it's trying to kill me.

But that's just like 5% of the problem. If you think the heat is the most evil of all, YOU'RE WRONG.

It's the rain. Rain is the most evil and hateful of all. It's actually kind of an asshole. It's like that person you know who always make positive first impressions, like the moment you see them you'd instantly think they're nice, sweet, perfect, educated, respectful, and adorable but when you get to know them, THEY ARE FUCKING ASSHOLES, and no one else will ever notice it because everyone is fucking naive.

I have issues. You know that already.

So anyway, I think the rain has that. Behind that very relaxing and romantic (for some people, NOT ME, MOM) and cooling effect on you, it's evil.

You may have not noticed it yet I'm telling you, that rain? THAT RAIN THAT YOU LOVE? It's evil.

Now, I don't mind drizzles of rain but downpour is too much!

Rain ruins plans. It ruins lives!

Especially if you don't have a car. *Ahem*

And if you accept your defeat and stay at home?

 No internet? Okay. Watch TV.


I mean, I'm sorry but is messing up with my life make you wild and awaken your "inner goddess" rain?

Dude. You may think you're rock 'n' roll but in reality, you're just really annoyingly loud.


So today after work, my friend and I decided to walk to the nearby mall. The following is a secret conversation between me and the rain:


Excuse me for ignoring proper capitalization but tweeting from phone while walking WHILE it's raining is not easy.

Imagine me, a little Asian girl, with a huge bag slung on my right shoulder, holding the umbrella between my neck and left shoulder, and holding my phone with my hands tweeting. WHILE WALKING IN THE RAIN.

I know. I'm sorry for me too. *overdramatic exit*

Thursday, August 2, 2012

Some Things Are Harder Than You Think

You know what sucks?

Life. Life sucks. Especially when you can't decide between what you want and what you need.

Deep, I know.

So here's my problem: I know it's normal for most girls to crave a lot of food when PMS-ing, but compared to the random mood swings and cramps and headaches and body pain and frustrations and that feeling where you just want to strangle everyone who says something stupid, food craving is probably the worst.

Shit is serious. SERIOUS, you hear?

I'm not using PMS as an excuse. That's just the way life is and we just have to roll with it.

Life is complicated. You gotta do what you gotta do. Like, uh, eat.

Sometimes, it's hard to determine if it's hunger that you're feeling or just boredom. I swear, it's the toughest thing in life to figure out.

And I'm not even preggo.

So that, my friends, is a challenge for me. It is a challenge whether to give in or not. So I made a pros and cons chart:

Clearly, depriving myself of my food cravings is a big joke. I'm a joke. At least that's what my brain thinks. Or my tummy thinks. I don't know anymore.

It's true. For example, when I was working the night shifts, there would be times where I would want a cake SO BAD but of course, with my schedule, it was very impossible for me to buy some because the bakeries that sell the awesomest cakes aren't open 24 hours.

And now that I'm working the days (day shift sucks guys. I hate people.), by the end of my shift, I'm usually tired (and I mean REALLY TIRED) to bother to buy.

The thing is, if I didn't get to eat what I'm craving, the thought of it would keep haunting me every day like a ghost of the past, which will make me sob on the inside because nobody loves me.


Sorry. Weird flashback.

What the fuck.

So anyway, it's not just cake that does that to me. Sometimes, I crave burgers. HUGE burgers with juicy patties hot off the grill and OHHHHHHHHH... crispy French fries! And pizza! There are times that I even crave food at 4 A.M. On a weekend.

Not that food cravings wake me up. I'm not THAT weird. I stay up late on weekends because of you, Internet people

So when I go on Tumblr and/or Pinterest during these hours, there are always food posts and OH MY GOD...

It's a good thing that we can order fast food online!

But the bad thing? When you order online, you'll have to tell them how much money you're going to give the delivery guy so he can bring the exact change.

What's so bad about that, you ask? Doing that takes about eleventy million inconvenient steps!

Like first, I have to put my laptop down VERY carefully (but not on the bed because it will set my bed on fire).

So I have to think of a safe place to put the laptop.

And then decide to use a book that's big enough to support the laptop but not too big to give the laptop space to breathe fire. I swear, my laptop is a fucking dragon. (If there's not a book nearby, that's another freaking step.)

After that, I have to get the huge blanket off of me.

Then get out of bed.

But then I have to remember where I put my money, which is in my wallet, and my wallet is in my bag. But where the fuck is my bag?

So I have to turn the lights on to look for my bag.

And then space out. It's unavoidable.

Then focus on focusing.

And then I have to eventually find out that the money in my wallet is enough for me to live comfortably for the rest of my life (if I  die the next day).

After finding out that I'm poor, I have to change my mind about ordering food online because that shit is not practical and that I just have to lower my standards and eat whatever food is available in my house.

Then I have to do everything backwards to go back to bed.

After that, I have to fool myself into thinking that I don't want food that badly and remember that binge eating is really bad anyway.

And lastly, sulk and expect the Internet to amuse me.

All that trouble and what do I get? HEARTBREAK.

My life. It's harder than yours. But your milkshake probably brings all the boys to the yard. So yay for you.

I don't want to suffer alone so here are some pictures:

And these:


I know what you're thinking.

You're welcome.

Can you see these notes? Because these are important but I had to make it small and gray because... I don't know. I just did.
*I found this post in my drafts folder, unfinished. I totally forgot about this.
*The food pics aren't mine. I got them from Tumblr, my home.

Holla if you see these notes because that means you're awesome. If not, you're still awesome.

Monday, July 9, 2012


I have many kinds of anger:
  • The kind that I forget after 10 seconds.
  • The kind that takes a day to sink in, which is very frustrating especially when, the moment it sinks in, it's not relevant to talk about anymore.
  • The kind that makes me create imaginary arguments in my head in which you will win and I will hate you more.
  • The kind that makes me want to make you realize how stupid you are by using extreme sarcasm and snide remarks that you probably won't even understand.
  • The kind that frustrates me a lot that it makes me tear up.
  • The kind that makes me want to go Super Saiyan on you.
  • And the kind that makes my blood boil up inside and make me want to secretly take a picture of you and post it on the Internet because I will probably hate you forever. FOREVER.
And do you want to know what makes me that angry?

If you guessed slow walkers, you're wrong. Because slow walkers belong to the first level. Unless I'm PMS-ing. Then I would probably go Super Saiyan on slow walkers.

Okay not that intense. Just... Okay. Maybe on the inside.

But one of the things that make me extremely mad is BAD CUSTOMER SERVICE.

I know it's like I'm an asshole magnet that I should be used to it already.

Let me tell you a story about the day I met:

The Witchster: The Witch-Monster Hybrid.

It was a Saturday afternoon when I decided to go to my kind-of favorite salon to get hair straightening, hot oil, and a haircut. I have always been too lazy to iron or blow dry my hair every morning so I have it straightened once a year. I also wanted 3 inches cut from my hair just to get the dry ends out.

Most importantly, I wanted to relax, as it had been a stressful week.

I walked in the salon and asked the PMS-faced receptionist, "Is Michelle here?" Michelle was my favorite person in that salon. "She has resigned," the receptionist answered, uninterested.

Resigned. Shit.

It was like an omen. A dark cloud swept over me.

"What can we do for you?" She asked. She looked pissed, as if I did something to her in high school and she could not move on. "Hair straightening, hot oil, and a haircut," I said in a friendly way, ignoring her expression.

"Is it okay if I assign you to a different hairdresser?" She asked.

I hesitated. "Okay."

I got introduced to a woman with a fake friendly smile. She called me "Ma'am Net." Fuck. That alone should have made me run for my life, but I stayed.

An ominous music started playing in my head.

"I want the same haircut as I have now, layered, V-shaped, but 3 inches shorter." I instructed. She said yes. Then I added, "And please just straighten the roots, since the ends aren't frizzy." The woman nodded.

She assessed my hair and told me how much it cost and I paid.

Then she started her evil work. She did not follow my instruction of straightening just the roots. I was shedding so much hair. I knew something was up. The witch needed my hair for her voodoo doll. Or for something else.

The sense of foreboding increased as the strange woman worked on my hair. I was so close to having a heart attack so I tweeted my worries. Twitter can save people from heart attack and possible psychosis. Every one knew that. Soon, the world will not need doctors anymore. Just Twitter.

Sorry, future doctors.

These are just a few of my tweets that day.

No one cared. I was alone in this battle.

She shampooed and hot oiled my hair, then she rinsed it again. The way she was rinsing my hair was weird. Her boobs were in my face. THE HORROR.

I'll be scarred for life.

I tried my best to calm down, I swear I did. Then she asked the most horrifying question ever. "Would you like a straight haircut?"

You've gotta be fucking kidding me.

"Oh no!" I said, panicked. "You can't do the haircut I told you?"

"Of course I can. I will make your hair beautiful."

Then the haircutting began.

She parted my hair down the middle and stretched it in front of my face and chopped three inches off of it, one side after the other. Then she went on cutting the bangs.

"Wait," I said, forcing calmness. "You're only gonna cut 3 inches in total. Not 3 inches in every cut."

*Cue cinematic horror sound effect*

"Oh no, that's it." She said.

I was shocked. "That's it? This is the haircut I paid for? I could done this myself even if I was drunk!"

She was rather shocked that I did not like what she did. She started being defensive. "You told me you wanted a V-shaped haircut!"

"I did but not like this." The cut she did was not even close to what I told her.

She lost it. She morphed from being an ordinary human being to a monster.

"The hair you wanted wasn't possible, and it wasn't good. I gave you a better haircut! Look!" She exclaimed.

I explained that the cut I asked her was the haircut I always get.

She started making some sort of a scene, asking other hairdressers to give her a mirror so I can see what she did from the back.

"You don't need to do that. You should've just done what I instructed you."

"Okay!" She said. "I'll cut it again!"

"No way I'll ever let you touch my hair again."

Then I left. I left the Witchster and her lair. There was no point in staying. The other hairdressers were obviously scared of what she can do so they decided to stay out of it. I was a customer but none of them came to my rescue. She was a monster, obviously. A monster who cuts hair, burns it, and sniffs the fumes. Hair was her bath salts. I just knew. She will eat brains soon.

I had another haircut to fix the damage. But not from the Witchster. Not from the strange woman who possibly burns hair and smokes it.