Oh come on people!

I just hate it when people ask me retarded-ass questions like “Are you really a Rising Internet Star?”

Okay, did you honestly think that you are the only person who reads this blog? Did you think I was lying when I write about how popular I am and how people regularly come up to me in public to say how they love reading my blog? Seriously, did you think I just got messed up one night, woke up hungover the next day with sisig tidbits stuck in my hair and said to myself: “Hey, I think I want to call myself The Rising Internet Star and publish lies over the Internet about how popular I am and how my blog gets 4,000 hits a day?” Of course not. I hope you’re not that deluded.

I mean please, I have two marriage proposals under my belt and I’ve received numerous fan mail as a blogger so you’ve got to give me more credit here.

But you know what I hate more? Instant Messages like this:

Come on! You can’t just log out after you propose to orally stimulate a guy’s birdie like that! That’s just plain cruel!(Unless you’re that Japanese tourist who paid me to give him a hand job from the back of his van in 2004 and you wanted to lure me in to exact painful revenge on me. Seriously dude, let it go. I’m really sorry that the hand job sucked. In my defense, it was the first time I’ve ever touched another man’s bird and I only did so because I needed to pay for my last semester of college. Besides, what did you expect for 70 pesos? Asshole.)

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