Personal Branding shit
I’ve been working closely with Marco the site guy, one of the country’s most acclaimed web designers (By ‘most acclaimed’ I actually mean ’someone who does nothing all day but smoke pot and ramble about how the government is screwing all of us), in conceptualizing and implementing a new logo to be used for this site as well as in my business cards and pretty much all my marketing collaterals.
After paying him a handsome amount of money(Lie. I gave him nothing but a small rotting piece of fruit and a high five), he came up with these studies:
Women can suck my sweaty balls
I was IM’ing with my Ex-girlfriend the other day and she had this to say about one of my posts:
An Important Life lesson from a loser
Lesson number 1: Hard work is for losers. At least until you have kids.
I just realized how some people are susceptible to confusing “success” with “how to attain success.” You probably know by now that I am not a big fan of hard work and I can’t be farther away from being a model of professional efficiency; in fact, I’m not the type of guy who’s willing to work 12 hours a day until I’m 40 so I can retire in a house in Baguio because really, how fun is that compared to spending 40% of your gross income on intoxicants and paying for as much sex as you can have as the law would allow you to?
But even with all my rhetoric, I can pretty much say that sooner or later, I will have to work harder. Yes harder and not hard because I am working hard. It’s just that I’m obsessed with producing the same quality of work while maintaining a high quality life. (And by high quality work, I mean “Spending three hours a day surfing random sites on Stumbleupon, two more hours making personal phone calls and roughly an hour playing CounterStrike.”)
I mean it’s fine that I can wing and bullshit my way around work most of the time, but this is not college. In college, I’d like to think that I had the most awesome grades-to-study-hours ratio in my batch. After all, if you could get 3’s on most subjects and get plastered almost everyday and do only the minimal amount of studying required, can’t you say that you were much better than the nerd who gets 1.5’s across the board who spends more than 9 hours a day studying and spends an additional 2 hours in the library after class? (And really come on, why do you have to constantly reread stuff? You could teach a dog to play a guitar through constant repetition; if you have to read some stupid business book over 5 times and nothing’s sinking in, don’t you think it’s better to just give up and drink with your friends or go out and cheat on your girlfriend or something?)
The thing is, I will need to work harder, get a promotion and maybe a nice salary increase because I can see myself having kids in the not so distant future. (legitimate or illegitimate. Most probably illegitimate though.) Now, because God hates me I am sure that my kids will be quite an interesting batch:
One’s going to be this band groupie who’s into drugs:
Mid-year resolution #1
I honestly can’t recall how many times something like this happened:
INT. - Some house party I’d be too drunk to remember in the morning - 2AM
Mike: [Swaying back and forth. Drunk.] So yeah, do you like want to make out and touch my bird right here? Or do you want to go somewhere more private?
Girl: [Slowly coming to] What? did you just lace my drink wit…
MIKE AND GIRL BEGIN SUCKING EACH OTHER’S TONGUES OUT.
Thing is I and the girl needed to keep our illicit affair a secret because she is dating somebody else other than me–somebody she actually likes. So you know, only a handful of our friends know about our romantic coquetry but other than that, everything was kept and talked about in a furtive manner.
And then, something like this happens:
Distant Friend: “Dude, I have some good news and bad news about you and [insert name of girl here]. Which do you want to hear first?”
Mike: “Um, I don’t know? The bad news?”
Distant Friend: “Well [insert name of girl here] was over at our place last night and she was pretty drunk and she told us everything that happened between you guys.”
Mike: “[Sudden Mass fear] WHAT?! What’s the good news?”
Distant Friend: “She said that you are, easily, the best kisser she’s ever encountered!”
Mike: “Oh well.”
So yeah, I think my first mid-year resolution should be:
Disgusting, I know.
Aryty, Buffet Line yay!
Saturday, I, along with the country’s most influential bloggers (bear with me), were invited by PinoyCentric’s bureau chief Karla Maquiling for an intimate lunch with Aryty.com’s CEO Nils Johnson and creative director Daniel Neumann at Shangri-La Makati’s Circles event cafe.
I think I’ve mentioned before how things like these make me feel uncomfortable and I’d be lying if I didn’t say I was iffy with the idea the whole time. However, I’ve heard a lot of great things about the lunch buffet at Circles and really, there are only a few things in the world that could make me extremely happy and teaching an Israeli boy how to crochet, and being in an awesome buffet line ranks high on the list. (Sex comes in somewhere around 5th spot right below “Arson”)
But yeah, I was still uncomfortable as fuck so with my armpits assured of dryness thanks to two handkerchiefs I stuffed in them, I drove to the Makati Shangri-La and met up with Karla, Jayvee, Gail, Angelo, Ederic, Sasha , Markku, Aileen and Ajay to partake in an extravagant culinary festival brimming with free prepaid phone credits, urine, neuroses and rancour. (I know I’m missing the point here. Whutev.)
When I got in the function room, I felt tense. Afterall, I was with the crème de la crème of local blogging and again, how does a guy who squanders whatever fame and influence he has on hundreds and hundreds of words’ worth of dick/racist jokes fit in? I actually spent a good 30 minutes, talking to nobody as other people who passed by me in the restaurant shot me scowls and shook their heads at me in disgust as I sweat the fuck all over the place and at one point, even spilling roast beef on the floor while my right hand made a sortie down my crotch to touch my genitals–as I am inclined to do whenever I feel uncomfortable or threatened.
(also, the fact that I saw Reema Changco, said hi to her [because I'm famous myself] and got ignored didn’t help ebb my anxiety.)
But eventually, things settled down, I got introduced to Nils and Daniel (Who’s so fucking dreamy by the way, I couldn’t conceal my monster erection when I shook his hand–something he promptly noticed and things got all weird between us thereafter), and realized that we were nothing more but a bunch of geeks gabbing and having lunch.
Soon Nils stood up and I was pretty sure everybody was thinking the same thing “Boo, a presentation just when I want to devour the exorbitant amount of food I helped myself to from the buffet table. Whatever, I’ll just sit through this–Wait is that roast beef on Mike Villar’s plate? And is that maple syrup he’s putting on it? Also, why is he sweating that much?”
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Mike "Fucking" Villar
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"The personal blog of Marketing Strategist, Rising Internet Star, Man Blog editor, child pornographer, alcoholic, and cokehead-- Douchebag Jones--Err, Mike Villar! -
