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Author Archives: Daniel
Don’t try to make a getaway on a motorbike with someone you just met
Ok, so I’ve noticed that all my titles seem more like advice to some trashy 2 year old. But whatever.
So, I was out with this guy (that I’m really not into but he doesn’t stop texting and I was kind of bored so I decided to just meet up with him again), and he wanted to meet up with his cousin and friend at this roof top restaurant. I was hesitant at first, but I’m glad I did because they were much cuter! So, we get drunk (as assumed) and among other things I drop my phone off the balcony. But that isn’t the sad-sigh part, because it wasn’t broken. So, the night goes on and I get irritated at my friend for some reason or another and find it appropriate to take his friend home instead. So, in a sneaky get away the cuter friend said he would take me home on his motorbike while his friends went to another bar. All seemed to be going well, I had a good buzz going which made me love the wind against my face on the ride home. Then, we reach an unexpected security check point and have to pull over. I find out this guy only has his “student liscence” (don’t worry he’s 26, i’m not a pedaphile), and the police impound his motor bike right on the spot! I even try to bribe the police, but to no avail. So, the fun was all over in a snap- my new cuter friend was a little upset and went home. Hopefully he will get his motorbike out of lock down tomorrow morning. But I felt like God was watching me and being a cockblock. But I’d like to think maybe s/he was just helping me out in the longrun from something horrible happening, telling me don’t try to make a getaway on a motorbike with someone you just met.
Crying at parties is almost always a bad thing
This is the second party in what I believe is a month span that I cried during at some point. (refer to my first post- “never make out with guys who deliver furniture at a party no matter how hot they are” i was crying after my stuff was stolen.)
So, it was my co-workers going away party which started out quiet. Then my friends and I arrived with cheap bottles of tequila and huge bottles of beer. I don’t know what happened, but next thing I know I am super smashed and crying with my friend who I found out earlier that day was fired and is being sent back to the States. I was, and still am, very upset about it. But we were full on bawling, then all of a sudden it changed into me spouting out ALL my problems, that I’m a bad person, yada yada yada and still crying. I would like to blame it on the stress I’ve been under at work and the alcohol- but I guess you could also call me a nutjob. I used a good portion of that party as my own therapy session. Yes, please invite me to your next party.
After that everything is a blur- I can’t remember the last time I blacked out and last night I did. This morning I woke up wondering how the hell I got into my bed, and looked over next to me and my friend’s sandals were there and a trash can. Also, a mysterious liter of coke was on my table. And both my hips are achey and bruised.
Of course my friends filled me in on what happened last night, most of it embarassing (ie: taking off my clothes inside the cab) At least I found out that the reason why I got so drunk was because during our crying session another friend was feeding us tequila shots (which I dont remember taking).
For my next party no matter how drunk I am I promise to try to keep one thing in mind- crying at parties is almost always a bad thing, so i should try to stop myself from doing it.
Never make out with shady guys who deliver furniture at a party no matter how hot they are
So- I would like to preface my first “blog” by saying that I am living in the Philippines. On an island that is pulsating with sexual energy i swear, so please don’t judge. Also- for those that are at all stomach-weak at mention of homosexual activity please do not read on. Actually- that is probably a good disclaimer for ANY entry I write here- altough this particular entry contains very very mild content of that sort.
So- I arrive to my place at 7:30 AM on Saturday having been out all night. I have random blotches of henna smeared over my legs, elbows, and arms. My feet are caked in dirt. My white shirt is browned from a mixture of henna, dirt, grass stains, and god knows what else. My ass and back are bruised and sore from jumping on who I can’t even remember and falling smack down on the concrete. I am missing my digital camera- and I have a phone that smells like shit because it was clogged in a toilet and also missing the battery. Definition of a mess. Not cute.