The Chronicles of Angst

Pussywagon. Better known as that groovy pickup featured in Kill Bill. For some reason, this blogger cannot get the damn vehicle out of her cynically twisted mind, so she decided to name her blog after that colorful, interesting truck that Buck the filthy intern used as a motel on wheels.

• Having beer in Malate with the girls, having enlightening conversations over ice cold beer and sisig while discussing our various exploits. The men (and women) in question will be vivisected in microscopic detail.
• Hunting funky bargains in ukays, getting lost in powerbooks, loving men, hating men and everything in between
• To make a point of ignoring constant criticisms about my inability to gain weight, then watch in vile amusement when my critics desperately try to lose the pounds.
• To write. What my lips can’t spill, my pen (or keyboard) will reveal with more character and clarity.
• Discussing and re-enacting all things related to the birds and the bees, just as I relish sharing brutal truths about love and relationships.
• The idea of being with David Beckham while listening to Sade, in a bubbling jacuzzi with scented candles all around.
• David Beckham. With or without background music.
• To head-bang along with glam rock music, with a walis tambo as an imaginary guitar
• To eat off the abundant carts of siomai, fishballs, squidballs, hotdogs, quail eggs, then finishing it off with a stick of Winston Lights.
• To wear skirts and high-heeled shoes
• To mercilessly criticize the so-called talents churned out by our local networks…My blood boils just by watching them!
• Lucy Liu in Kill Bill! What I wouldn’t give to slash the heads of my enemies with a samurai on a whim!
• Animals, especially cats! I can put a stony facade if necessary when a prick of a man gets hurt, but go totally ballistic at the sight of tortured, sick, neglected animals.
• To curse at people who invert ME and YOU in text messages and emails. Please, vanish!
• To spew venom whenever I hear Paolo Santos and his pathetic, whining acoustics. His rendition of Chaka Khan’s “Through The Fire” is so ghastly it makes me want to be an axe murderer! I am a rocker chick, but I can listen to all sorts of music except the Jologs variety. Therefore, if you come near me singing “Itaktak mo” with genuine enthusiasm, I am thisclose to killing you.