Porn talk in front of girly girl
What I'm about to say is going to be a little bit weird. The fact that I'm saying it at a little before 4am makes it even weirder. Okay, here goes:
I am a girly girl.
I'll tell you why in a second. First, a photo:
Image courtesy of sumiah's Flickr
I am a girly girl because only a girly girl would obsess and agonize over concealer shades at 3frickin30 am with very little prodding. I reckon my skintone (or undertone or whatever) wouldn't change in 5 hours, the same way my boss would probably not change her mind about getting me makeup as pasalubong. So anyway, I had to decide and try to remember which shade it was that I coveted. It just felt too it's-now-or-never. They don't carry Clinique concealer pens in Manila.
Another reason that I'm a girly girl is that I sometimes sleep with curlers mussed up in my damp locks just so I could wake up to a head of fresh curls. Well, as fresh as a night of tossing and turning, and head-pillow friction will allow. If you've never tried it, then you must sleep well alll the time. Granted, they're 80% foam, but really--try sleeping soundly with contraptions in your hair. Sometimes I take a shortcut by waking up early (or going to work later than usual), putting on curlers after I shower and letting my hair air dry. This is perhaps the only shortcut that requires more patience because I have a full head of longish hair that takes forever to dry.
I realized five minutes into this entry that these aren't really reasons but proofs of why I'm a girly girl. But my MacBook B's clock is glaring at me with the unsightly information about the time: it's 4:11 am and I'm still obsessing over girly things. So instead of rewriting the first few paragraphs, I'm going to tell you why I'm hardcore. Of course, you may have realized that this is but a veiled attempt to salvage my image.
Why I'm hardcore
1. I write long, telling emails to strangers.
2. I have only spent one night away from my laptop since I got it almost a year ago.
3. I haven't written anything sensible for free (weepy and/or cryptic and/or creepy emails/blog entries do not count) in a while. However, if technocracy and/or is tantamount to sensibleness, then the sentence before this one is a lie.
4. I stay up a few extra minutes just to write reasons why I'm hardcore.
Then again, this list is only valid if hardcore thinks what I think it means. Porn-ers, don't even go there. Another digression, my two officemates and I call porn ""Facebook"" ... and yes, the double quotation marks are intentional because you have to do it with air quotes. Otherwise, it just means the social networking site everyone's crazy about. Getting back to my digression, sometimes, these two guys discuss porn in front of me in a way that makes me feel like I don't have breasts. Whatever the word for the female equivalent of emasculation, that's the feeling. In a sorta good way though. (Is this really it? wink)
Hey, what do you know I've unintentionally come full circle, courtesy of good old rambling. So conclusion: I'm a girly girl--a hardcore girly girl--who sometimes feel like a guy in front of horny men. Wait... Ugh.
I am a girly girl.
I'll tell you why in a second. First, a photo:
Image courtesy of sumiah's Flickr
I am a girly girl because only a girly girl would obsess and agonize over concealer shades at 3frickin30 am with very little prodding. I reckon my skintone (or undertone or whatever) wouldn't change in 5 hours, the same way my boss would probably not change her mind about getting me makeup as pasalubong. So anyway, I had to decide and try to remember which shade it was that I coveted. It just felt too it's-now-or-never. They don't carry Clinique concealer pens in Manila.
Another reason that I'm a girly girl is that I sometimes sleep with curlers mussed up in my damp locks just so I could wake up to a head of fresh curls. Well, as fresh as a night of tossing and turning, and head-pillow friction will allow. If you've never tried it, then you must sleep well alll the time. Granted, they're 80% foam, but really--try sleeping soundly with contraptions in your hair. Sometimes I take a shortcut by waking up early (or going to work later than usual), putting on curlers after I shower and letting my hair air dry. This is perhaps the only shortcut that requires more patience because I have a full head of longish hair that takes forever to dry.
I realized five minutes into this entry that these aren't really reasons but proofs of why I'm a girly girl. But my MacBook B's clock is glaring at me with the unsightly information about the time: it's 4:11 am and I'm still obsessing over girly things. So instead of rewriting the first few paragraphs, I'm going to tell you why I'm hardcore. Of course, you may have realized that this is but a veiled attempt to salvage my image.
Why I'm hardcore
1. I write long, telling emails to strangers.
2. I have only spent one night away from my laptop since I got it almost a year ago.
3. I haven't written anything sensible for free (weepy and/or cryptic and/or creepy emails/blog entries do not count) in a while. However, if technocracy and/or is tantamount to sensibleness, then the sentence before this one is a lie.
4. I stay up a few extra minutes just to write reasons why I'm hardcore.
Then again, this list is only valid if hardcore thinks what I think it means. Porn-ers, don't even go there. Another digression, my two officemates and I call porn ""Facebook"" ... and yes, the double quotation marks are intentional because you have to do it with air quotes. Otherwise, it just means the social networking site everyone's crazy about. Getting back to my digression, sometimes, these two guys discuss porn in front of me in a way that makes me feel like I don't have breasts. Whatever the word for the female equivalent of emasculation, that's the feeling. In a sorta good way though. (Is this really it? wink)
Hey, what do you know I've unintentionally come full circle, courtesy of good old rambling. So conclusion: I'm a girly girl--a hardcore girly girl--who sometimes feel like a guy in front of horny men. Wait... Ugh.