Pimple's Site

I was never really very keen on attending blogger events. Mainly because most of said events require you to write your reactions on the event itself, and ultimately the product that said event is promoting. Now I really can't trust myself to commit to that kind of an obligation because I was never really that good in writing product reviews. Also, writing.

Anyway, Ria (who is organizing this event along with the rest of the Mindanao Bloggers) has been promoting this event for the past few weeks so I decided to sign up. Not that it needs promoting. Because if you're a blogger, and you use WordPress, you're coming to this event. Unless of course you're Baddie that is. In which case, you probably look like this.

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Ok first day of classes was yesterday. Instead of a lengthy account, I shall repost all my plurks which I made with my phone (click on each image to view each discussion sparked by each plurk):

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First of all, I'd like to share a nifty little discovery that may help those like me who suffer from a perenial case of writer's block.

It's called Oneword.

The concept is kinda cool if you ask me. You log onto the site, it gives you a word, and you have 60 seconds to write about said word. You are only given the instruction: "Don't think. Just write."

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Most bloggers would warn you about an impending blog hiatus before it happens. Unfortunately, I'm not most bloggers. I choose the more sensible approach of warning you of the impending blog hiatus not so much as when the hiatus is still in its "impending" stages as it is in the "growing roots in my blog" stage.

That way, anybody so inclined to argue with you would have lost the desire to even care long before they realize you've stopped blogging. Or making sense.

I'm also the type of person to shout "FIRE! FIRE! YOUR FUCKING HAIR IS ON FIRE!" long after the paramedics have taken you away. But that's just how I roll.

Anyway, hiatus. I'm on one.

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There's a couple of things that you should know about me.

1. I'm cheap
2. I don't believe in the English language.

Well maybe the second thing probably has nothing to do whatsoever with the subject at hand, but I still think it has to be said. You see, I am a firm believer that the English language is simply a contrivance given to us by our Alien Overlords during ancient times because it entertains them to no end to hear us say words like "organize," or "marmalade," and "Reginald." Don't get me started on what passes for Alien humor.

Either that or they were simply growing tired of seeing us sew various numbers of chickens on our clothes (Which is how mankind used to communicate in those days. Or so I'm told. By me).

So anyway, I got myself a new laptop. Well that may not be the entire truth. I didn't so much "buy" as "waited for my mother to get tired of her beat up old laptop and give it to the one person she knows who would actually want it."

At 1.5Ghz with a mere 512MB RAM, old Lappy is no spring chicken. Which actually goes without saying. Because no laptop, no matter how new or snazzy it is, can remotely resemble poultry.

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Having attended my first PsorPhil BMW outing, I've come to realize a few things about my support group which I'd be happy to share. If only I can find the right words that is.

It would be only so easy to romanticize everything that has to do with our organization and what it stands for. I need only to employ the use of flowery words like "courageous," "selfless," "untiring," and "dedicated" to describe the organizers and the members, and no one would have any reason to disagree with me.

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"ALRIGHT. WHO'S THE ASSHOLE WHO FUCKING GAVE ME A FUCKING BUTTERFLY?!" I asked the guys nicely.

Blank stares answered me. And not a few thumbs up some asses. In some cases two.

"A butterfly, Pau?" asked Baddie.

"Yes, a butter--fucking--fly. Did I stutter?" The guys shifted uncomfortably, each of them waiting for somebody else to answer.

"Well no Pau," Coco interjected. "If you stuttered, we would have heard you say 'Butt---butt-butt-butt-butterfly!' AMIRITE?!" The severity of my glare told me that he was indeed, "not rite."

"I'M GOING TO START COUNTING---" I went on.

"And we're going to start dancing." continued Bim. Or rather, that's what he tried to say before I punched him in the neck. In reality, what he said was "And we're going to start---OW OW OW JESUS PEDRO CHRIST!"

"Now then. I'm going to ask again. Nicely this time. Which one of you sensible idiots gave me this fucking butterfly?" I said, with much restraint.

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If you guys are following me on Twitter, chances are you may be privy to an incident I had which involves my teeth getting a little too familiar with my tongue.

And whether or not you wanted photographic proof of said incident, I thought it necessary to supply it all the same. Because I'm a nice guy like that.

So I know this guy. Let's call him, um, Schmau. So Schmau was enjoying a concert of sorts which was called the, erm, Schmanana Schmangbang Schmock Schmestival. As the night progressed, it eventually became more and more apparent to him that his bladder was quite inadequate to accommodate the amount of liquor he has been ingesting since he arrived.

Schmau, being the slave to his bodily functions that he is, did what any self respecting person would do; he dutifully headed straight to the bathroom to drain the lizard.

Upon entering the the bathroom, Pau Schmau saw to his dismay that the urinal was placed at a much higher level than what he was accustomed to. Rather than spend time contemplating the injustice done to people who happen to be short in stature, but big in heart (and crotch); Schmau decided to quit dicking around, and plow ahead, so he could get to the point. (Yeah, I did something there. See if you can see it.)

As he started to unbutton his fly, Schmau discovered that while he still had full control over his hands, seven of his fingers appear to have decided to turn themselves into pudding at this point. Schmau would have shaken his fists at the bottles of beer he had, but that would entail full control over all his digits.

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I'm going to reveal something about myself that you may not realize.

Ready?

Wait for it....

Just a little more......

I'm a douche.

Hard to believe, but it's true.

Reason being is I don't enjoy people a lot. Most of the time, I just like to stay at home and not be around people. There are days when interacting with people or hearing human voices is at the very bottom of my "Things I'd sooner do than poke my eye with my high-heeled stiletto because I've decided to become gay" list.

Of course there are exceptions like my wife, my family, and some scary people who don't annoy me as much as most people do. But being the very definition of exceptions, these people are few and far between.

"But Pau," some of you may ask. "You've always been nice to me. Does that mean I'm special?"

The answer, my good man, would be no. I was nice to you not because you are special. I was nice to you because I didn't think much of you as a person to begin with. Also, burn!

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Because The Man Blog Monkehs will be painting the town red. And we're not going to be using paint! Or paintbrushes!

We're so rock and roll, we've got rock & roll oozing out of our ears. You better watch your step, you might slip on some of our awesomness.

Special thanks to Baddie for the awesome poster.

Also, LOSE YOUR BEER BELLY.

So I just got home from watching this at The Block. And holy crap.

I never considered myself a U2 fan before. I mean all I owned was Rattle and Hum. And even though I loved that album to death, I never really had the urge to buy or even listen any of their other albums.

But this concert movie may have just made a believer out of me. I even ate up Bono’s eco friendly, humanitarian messages that used to slightly annoy me.

Now, I’m going to hunt down the rest of their discography and give this band another chance.

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My first 5x5x5 cube has finally twisted its last twist. Good thing I have a spare which is of better quality.

Anyway, If you're going to buy a 5x5x5 cube, don't buy the Rubik's brand. Not only is it more expensive, but it's also heavier, cumbersome, and prone to damage as can be seen from the pictures below.

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A few of you may remember me mentioning something about having psoriasis a few years back. In case you don't, here's a brief summary: I have psoriasis, but due to some misguided twist of fate, I find myself being in remission for the better part of the past three years.

To put things in perspective; in the world of psoriasis, a year of remission is a lifetime of awesome. Heck, a day of not having to deal with all the shit psoriasis brings is already heaven.

So yeah, three years of having relatively clear skin is a lot. And it could not have happened to a less deserving person than me. I'll tell you why.

The minute my skin showed signs of clearing up, I began shying away from my support group and stopped being active despite being one of the first people to join. There were several reasons for this, all of them petty. Not the least of which was the simple fact that I didn't want to be reminded of the torture that was psoriasis.

So three years passed with them not hearing a word from me. And the only reminder I have of ever having the disease is the pain in my right ankle that never goes away. During that time, their community grew, reached out to more people who needed help, and became a family.

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So I just got back from this marriage Marriage Encounter thing with Rach. At first we only agreed to go because my parents, who were sponsoring the event, asked us to go as a favor to them. But it turns out to be a very wise decision because the trip allowed us to relive our Discovery Weekend experience which continues to be a source of inspiration and strength for us as a couple.

It's also during this event that I was able to reaffirm that Rach is indeed the only woman for me. Well until Christine Reyes finally tracks me down and asks me to make sweet, passionate love with her face.

Maybe it was due to the atmosphere of sharing, openness, and honesty of our encounter, that I decided to check where Rach stands on the whole Christine Reyes thing.

Not only is TMB a group of likeminded bloggers who came together to make the internet stupider, we are also a group of musicians with a passion for dildos. We toured for a couple of years, perfecting our sound and building our fan base while collecting dildos.

We purposefully kept it a secret from our internet friends because we didn't want our success to get to their heads. But since we can't keep the secret any longer, we are coming out so to speak.

Special Thanks to Coco & Bim for helping put together this discography.

Presenting The TMB Band Discography:

First Album: GREATEST HITS (2005)

Front Cover:

Back Cover:

Track Listing:

1. Deep Inside My Shorts written by Mike 3:54
2. 1...2...3...BALLS! written by Steel 0:03
3. If Your Cock was Sugar, Then I Would be a Diabetic written by Pau 7:18
4. From Here To Bestiality written by Squid and Ade 5:40
5. I CAN'T WRITE ANY LYRICS! written by Fritz 0:30
6. Bitch Left Me For that Skankwhore Fredrick So I Danced The Night Away written by Mike 4:80
7. Finger Painting written by Peter 1:11
8. COCKFIGHT! written by Pau 4:00
9. Down With Pants, Up With Boners! written by Mike 3:59
10. All the Orphans In the House, Say “Hoooo!” written by Coco 3:24
11. When I Say Rainbow, You Say Unicorn! Rainbow! (Pause) Rainbow! (Pause) written by Steel 2:30

Members:

• Mike Villar (Vocals and Orchestra)
• Peter Juan (Microphone)
• Pau Araos (Shoes)
• Fritz Tentativa (Hair)
• Ade Magnaye (Bass Drums)
• Steel Ventus (Nuts)
• Coco Collantes (Organ)
• Bim Barbieto (Loud Speaker)
• Gino Carteciano (Ice Cream)

Didn't think I'll be writing about this game this soon since I wasn't planning on playing it, let alone finishing it, until after I've played through all of my much older games. But a couple of things bumped this game up to number 2 of the "Things I Will Play With" list. Just below "myself."

The first thing was the two games I was currently playing, Trauma Center: New Blood and The Godfather: Blackhand Edition were proving to be too big for my puny gaming abilities. Which leads me to conclude that they suck.

The second was I saw Sylvia Christel in the No More Heroes trailer:

Yeah. There was no way I was putting off playing the game after seeing that. But as you'll see (if you bother to continue reading this entry that is), the game is not just a thinly veiled excuse to give fan service to prepubescent (ok, it appeals to us old guys too) anime fanbois. The game, in a nutshell, is pure unadulterated fun.

Well actually there's a third reason. But there's no way in hell I'm admitting how the wife made me watch all Princess Hours episodes in the span of less than a week so I was in desperate need of some murders right after. Wait.

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Are you getting tired of all the shit that ninjas have to put up with just to get through the day? People cross the street when they see you walking. Dogs hate you because they can never sense whenever you're near. The Pirate kids down the street keep egging your house while shouting "We're way cooler than you!"

Then your neighbors are always updating their state of the art home security systems (which never succeeds in stopping you from sneaking in and "borrowing" some stuff like sugar, milk, and kidneys). It's hard for you to find a place to stay because your roommates have a tendency of disappearing on you. You can't even find a date because the Ninja Code you live by prohibits you from uploading your real pic in your Friendster profile page:

Also:

So we're here to help you to leave your Ninja ways behind and successfully to assimilate yourself into society. Below is a short list of scenarios designed to point you toward the right direction in a happier existence with the people around you.

Continue Reading this on My Blog.

No other adage can aptly describe this game more perfectly than "It's the journey and not the destination." Well there's "Every rose has its thorn," and "You give love a bad name," and finally "Bed of roses" but we're not going into that right now.

Anyway, let's get the bottomline out of the way first; this game is awesome, and every person who lives on Earth who has a Wii should get a copy. It's awesome not because of the story and the the totally extraneous Rosalina subplot; but because of all the different levels / worlds you get to visit on your way to the final boss battle. Also, it's awesome because it's awesome.

It's like the Wii was made for this game and vice versa. But before I get ahead of myself, let's break it down:

Story / Plot

People shouldn't even be concerned with the plot of any Mario game because they're all the same. Bowser wants to take control of the island/ world / universe and he can't do it without Princess Peach at his side. So it's up to Mario to save Peach, and in so doing, the island/ world / universe.

Sucks I know, but you really can't blame Nintendo for not straying too far from a formula which has sold millions. And to be honest, I wouldn't have it any other way.

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This is a much delayed post that was supposed to be written weeks ago. Possible reasons for the delay is the fact that we're all a bunch of lazy imbeciles who are incapable of writing anything which doesn't lend itself to dick or gay jokes.

Also, most of us have lost the ability to read. And take a bath. Without the assistance of another man. With a rock hard penis. Oh hey, lookit that. Penis and gay jokes! Now this article is halfway done.