Humor in the Third Person Perspective

I have an abnormally small head! Someone get me an airpump!

This post would have been solely about my abnormally small head. But, no. It won’t be about anything. Except about it being would have been solely about my abnormally small head, however it isn’t, in fact, it won’t be about anything at all except about that it would have been a post solely about my abnormally small head or about nothing at all except it being a post that would have been exclusively about my annoyingly small top part of the human anatomy when it isn’t and that it will be about nothing at all except being almost about my extraordinarily under-sized head or myself doubting it and concluding that it will not be about anything instead, that is, with the exception that it would have been about a head that is mine that probably is smaller than yours that I don’t like and my doubting whether that’s a good idea and resorting to make it about nothing at all, except the fact that it would have been about my irritation towards my shrunken head and my changing my mind, making it about nothing except maybe for this post being a post that would have contained rants in my annoyance towards my unwanted small skull or that would have contained any coherent thoughts about anything except that—she got tired. That required some brainwork. Whew.

Nothing beats sitting outside in the dark, lit alone by the stars and moon, listening to Nickel Creek in full volume. I love them. I love the mandolin. Their tunes are so detailed, if you listen keenly enough you’d hear little strumming notes from the guitars that sound as if they’ve been spent much time on. And the double bass! Gah!!! It’s the ultimate break from boyband music.

In my enthusiam for the band, I looked them up on YouTube, ever our <3th, and I found this: Nickel Creek’s rendition of Toxic. There’s alot of videos there with the same content, but I think this has the best angle. Really cool.

That’s funny. I’m supposed to sound hysterical. 1AM is period (.) hour.

Devilry!

I hate this blog! I tried changing the design, thinking, Hey, it’s been a while, maybe Friendster’s developed new Blog Skins. But, darn-the-devil they hadn’t. And I don’t expect they ever will. My blog shall stay as grey and blue-green and unexciting as ever. Unless…

You all know how everyone loves photos–nah, that’s a terrible opening line or the next paragraph. But I do believe this is: There’s an advantage I’ve been seeking ever since I got myself involved in the Yearbook business: everyone’s photos–and not just everyone’s photos (the ugly Grad-Made-Up-Toga-Hat-"Natural Smile" photos–ugh. No use for them), everyone’s "Wacky" Photos! So, take note, Scientian readers, I HAVE EVERYONE’S "WACKY" PICTURES. And if anyone’s interested in them, I’m here for a scandal!

I know, this feels very inappropriate and in a way dangerous. But hey, look at me, girl stuck in yearbook business, pressured by parents who don’t even allow us to insert the Words Which Describes Us Best beside our nicknames because, for them, not everyone wants to be reminded of their high school self by titles such as "Jemuel Bangag" or "Ducus Tingting", How understanding are the elders, I need excitement. And never mind if that sort of excitement involves getting all of ‘06 against me.

Whoops. I guess I went too far.

Ok, I take everything back. Poor me. Poor stupid disillusioned me. Oh, yeah, I don’t believe in self-pity.

I guess this is my long summer post. And in it will I continue the stuff I wanted to say in the Spazzmaster’s blog that I couldn’t add in my comment for the stuck-up reason that it would look awkward.

Here we go.

PH5! We shall no longer be called PH5! Instead, we shall be called Go Sit In A Corner And Think Of A New BoyBand Name Because This, Frankly, Sucks! My mother said so, upon encountering me sitting in a corner and sketching PH5 logos. She said: "Ba’t PH5? Ang pangit, para kayong panghugas sa—"

Ehem. You get what I mean.

So, please, concerned bandmates. And Production Manager and MANAGER. Hey, Manager! I am so doing your job, as Pebbles reminded me of earlier and, yes, I had not realized that before! Darnit, Manager! What should you be doing?!

Anyway, I have said that I shall update you all by email of our schedule and stuff, but since I’m already here and in need of content for my ‘u’ber-long summer post, I’m putting ‘em all into here. I don’t know about the exact dates for the schedule yet, since I don’t know about YOUR schedules individually. So, I only came up with activities we can perform during meets:

1.Band Name Re-Brainstorming (I remember how hard a time we had to come up with the came we used to currently have)

2.Paghahasa ng Boses (through harmonizing with songs by *NSYNC) (Isa, you need this. *Yea-Heeyh* ;))

3.Choreography and Dance Training (Zoe, kaw dapat gumagawa nito!)

4.Song-Writing (Ah. Rachel, you start. Sayment mo. I know only the manager has the right to command, but where in hell is she?!)

5.Logo Conceptualization (Mine)

6.Photo Op (I wonder who’d take the pictures)

7.All the Fashion Fuss (Or not)

8.Song Recording (Dream on. Are we serious?)

9.Video Shoot (My brother makes films, he can direct our videos!) (Or not.)

10. But before everything, we must educate ourselves with the Art of Boyband-ing. A lecture, Boyband 101, especially conducted by the all-knowing Spazzmaster JC (I know, I have not informed you of this yet, but I know you’d love to do it :D). Plus, she can add an introduction to popslash or a recruitment talk into the JoLa movement. Eh?

I guess that’s enough for now. Not. No. Yes it is. Ok.

Back to Yearbook-related stuff.

Deep in the caverns of the CUP hideaway, Lawrence Arcangel was left gagged and bound to a seat alone. If there were light though, it could be observed that he was in fact wearing a tux, for Lawrence, although the journalist cum activist that he was, did not go all the way down south just to cover some petty coup story. He was there, splendidly armed with a huge bouquet of flowers to see the lovely witty CUP Business Manager, Eunice Regala, in surprise.

It really would have been nice, he thought in the dark, really would have made things work like they should… I knew, I know we were meant to be–but before he could continue his reverie, a loud thundering crash was heard from above. Then, a fierce earsplitting rattling of armalite began in the near ceiling; Lawrence felt the itch of dust falling on him from above as the chair he sat on trembled, and before he knew it, the portion of the ceiling right in front of him fell, and he saw light flashing through the heavy dust clouds from the hole above. A rope fell right in front of him and down slid a woman in a tight black bodysuit. After her dropped a man in a black shirt that was so fit his abs could be seen right through it.

"Agents Gelynne Melencio and Daryl Dumayas," said the woman with a smile, flipping her hair, "We’re here to rescue you."

"Wmmh? Hmmwph…ummf–" Lawrence mumbled unable to be clearly understood through his unwanted mouthpiece.

"We have to leave immediately. Shouldn’t keep the boss waiting," Daryl said, ignoring him as he cut him loose and removed his gag. Lawrence jumped up, grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him like a madman—

to be continued.

This is supposed to be the continuation of Raphael Fulgar’s Class Prophecy written in his green notebook, which is still with me. After reading this, I got inspired to write an extension of it, thinking that if people read that as it is, they’d feel confused and frustrated and inspired to write an extension for it like I did. But starting to write my share, I realized (like I always do when writing stuff which are not for me or about me) that I can’t do it, I can’t write decently, I lost my diction.

And so "To be continued" became its actual end.

It’s a waste, though. I thought of the most amazing continuation which includes most of everyone else in the batch besides those who were in Curie 2. So, for everyone who has read it (I’m sorry for those who hadn’t, I can’t type the whole thing here. It’s too long and I don’t have the time and will), we all thought the CUP (Communist Utopian Philippines) was the one causing all the bombings and war and hostage-taking, but really they aren’t. The terrorist James Cruz and his cohorts the mad physicist Monica Salazar and the evil chef Mark Abelon are. And they’re there to seek world domination. You get the idea.

But it doesn’t stop there. We have Emong Trinidad preaching in the midst of Plaza Miranda, Joyce Mirano, a romance novelist, Zoe Cunanan as a McDo employee-of-the-month for a whole year and counting, Kevin Cena, Anna Cabatuando competing for the Nobel Peace Prize, the new Darna (guess who) and her #1 Fan In The Whole Wide World As In Ever Angelo Lomboy, and many more.

But then, Raphael said he’d be writing a new one (for which we waited for two months and only got a page’s worth [come on, three and a half?!]) so I stopped. And that’s it. But if I’d have time in the future, I could start on a movie script. Whoopee! Sabugan! And, of course, without the Communists. Raphael, the Communists were a bad idea.

Oh, and by the way, sorry about the Y!M trouble again. T’was Yahoo!’s fault! They claimed it was error 999. Can’t depend on Web Messenger too much. Great. I remembered something.

*Shifts to the fictuous world*

Kuya Rain did not invite me to The Luscious Malfoys’ Gig. Hem hem.

(But even if he did, I still won’t be able to come. Alas-ocho ba naman ako nakauwi noong Sabado! Summer ko! )

I’m sorry, Kuya Rain. One day, we will meet and I will grovel. Or you. Heheheh.

*Done with shift*

Reisa Gonzaga. Your Dedication notebook na walang laman is still with me. I’m sorry. When we meet, I’ll grovel too.

Mica, yours is with me as well. I will not grovel when we meet kasi me utang ka pa saking mensahe na di pa nauumpisahan. Message in exchange for your notebook. You get the idea. Woo-hoo-hoo!

I’d like to end my post right here because my eyes are already half-closed and the bed is calling. Yes, yes. Not too long a summer post. Not enough Lipovitan Ira. Or too effective.

To Lance Bass! (from Chris Kirkpatrick) Eee! Cute na ‘ko!

Hi.

By the way, this is not the ‘u’ber-long post I was talking about. I’m currently working on that though. Daya.

I heart YouTube. And Armi Millare. And Lance Bass. And–Eee! Three minutes na lang raw.

The next long post that shall appear here will be when summer establishes itself and when I get that annual urge to live nocturnal. That will be soon. Very very soon.