#30DayWritingChallenge: The internet and me.

Day Eighteen: The internet and me.

An average day, occasionally written in the first person plural.

06:09 AM
Woke up. Checked the phone for new messages and notifications. Fell asleep again halfway through.

07:23 AM
Woke up properly. New messages in Facebook (ignore until midday). Fed the cats; they had been scratching our legs for the last two hours.

08:19 AM
Twitter sinkhole.

09:46 AM
New Viber message. Did not open it yet so it will not be seenzoned. Opened Godsville and sent our hero to the arena.

10:27 AM
Have we had breakfast yet?

11:51 AM
Fourth political tweet of the morning. Liked seven posts in the Facebook feed. Nothing interesting when timeline was refreshed.

12:11 PM
No, LiNa we are not interested.

01:47 PM
Finished downloading yet another movie I will not be watching any time soon. Pokemon Shuffle.

02:02 PM
The new Fairy Tail chapter is up!

03:45 PM
Skimmed through the articles in io9, Wired, and The Mary Sue. Picked several articles from the RSS feeds. Scheduled some tweets for later and tomorrow.

04:17 PM
Argued with someone in Twitter. Subretweeted.

05:43 PM
Fed the cats. Stop coming between my face and the phone’s screen, Godzilla.

06:28 PM
Fifteen new Instagram hearts! Oh. Four of them were for previous photos.

07:01 PM
Nothing interesting in Pinterest. Why didn’t we see this Facebook private message sooner?

08:39 PM
Nothing worthwhile in Grindr. Nothing worthwhile in PlanetRomeo. Nothing worthwhile in Hornet. A new woof in Scruff, but we don’t like his profile bio.

09:11 PM
Thought up of a pretentiously smug tweet. Takes a photo with a book cover in the background for added smartypants appeal.

10:24 PM
We have not yet written anything for that #30DayWritingChallenge. Quick blog entry.

11:44 PM
Spotted another hoax in Facebook. Man, these kids on the internet.

12:51 AM
So sleepy. Don’t forget to plug the phone to the charger. Maybe one last look at Twitter…

Kiss, kiss, kiss.

Today’s 30-day writing challenge topic is “a kiss”. Can I cheat and just repost this entry I posted the other day, instead?

He kissed well and was not self-conscious about it. Oh well. I’ll forget his snide remarks.


Scruffy men kissing.

Maybe I should start hitting on guys in dating apps and hook up with someone by noon so I can write about a kiss.

#30DayWritingChallenge: A strange phone call.

Day Four: A strange phone call.

There is this guy, he calls himself Gabriel. Every time I see him calling me, it means one thing: the guy is horny.

Often, I ignore his call. I might be doing something, or I just don’t feel like it. If I was busy but would still want to have some fun, I’d SMS: Busy right now. Call me in X minutes.

For most guys I had phone sex with (and most guys I sleep with), I can still engage them in conversation other than sex. We’d talk about work, complain about traffic, do small talk. It’s cool, doing that. It humanizes the other person, and I get to know them beyond moans and grunts we share while we are intimate with each other.

But not Gabriel.

The guy is always down to business. After we both came, he will end the call. No perfunctory “thanks, man” or “I’m gonna wash up first”. There aren’t even good-byes. We both came, phone sex is over, end of call.

Which is so different from how he is while we are on the phone. He’s wild and passionate and noisy. He likes it when I say his name, when I tell him I “love” him, when I say I won’t fuck anyone other than him.

Phone sex, being purely aural (pun not intended), requires a lot of imagination so both people can get off. Both participants should also be game in hamming things up for each other. I would say things I wouldn’t day out loud during actual sex because it helps build up a fantasy both the other guy and I can take part in.

Unlike actual sex where sometimes I wonder if the other guy was acting too enthusiastic because of porn fantasies, there is no need to wonder about it in phone sex. I already know the answer: We are. And that is okay because, most of the time and with guys I’ve had several sessions(?) before, I know we are both into it.

Phone sex SMS.

Lately, Gabriel has taken a liking into doing phone sex threesomes. He would call and get another guy conference with us and the three of us would get it off. So far, it is a different guy every time. How many guys does this dude regularly talk to? It was awkward, at first, but I am surprised how easy it was for me to get comfortable with it. It does break the illusion when he asks if he is the only guy I would fuck.

I used to wonder if I’ll ever get to meet Gabriel, if we will ever have sex for real. I doubt we will and maybe it is better that we won’t. He is sexier and more attractive as that disembodied voice urging me to mount him and ram him harder.

Stop copying the copyrighted material!

Whether some webmaster decides on disabling right-clicking in their sites is completely their prerogative, of course. But his kind of pop-up message is a little insulting:


Right-clicking isn’t only about copying website data.

If one really wants to do it, one can copy downloaded website content with little difficulty even with right-click disabled. There are several browser tools that can do that, even without right-clicking.

But you know another important action you get from right-clicking? Opening link in new tabs or windows. Nothing shady about that at all.

At least the webmaster also disabled selecting anything on the page and using keyboard shortcuts like Ctrl-C and Ctrl-A. It would be funny if they overlooked those actions.

Still, webmaster prerogative. What was insulting was the assumption that by right-clicking, I was being a nasty little data pirate out to copy some precious website data which were already downloaded by my browser anyway. And the tone of the message, like it was coming from a stern grade school teacher reprimanding a naughty pupil.

What is wrong with saying “Sorry, right-clicking is disallowed” in the pop-up text box instead? It’s polite. It acknowledges that there is some inconvenience imposed to the website visitor. And it does not immediately assume that the website visitor is out to copy copyrighted material.

After I was peeved by the pop-up text box, I was then amused by the banner ad that was served when I loaded the Pahiyas website:


Sure, I want to date hot Philippine women online. I think I’m going to click that join button now.

Nuked longganisa.

My mother, in her usual tone of absent-minded concern, asked if the frozen longganisa will be adequately cooked when placed in the microwave.

“Sure,” I said.

Of course, she didn’t believe me, commenting how it’s unsafe to eat undercooked meat. I told her how microwave cooks food from the inside out, so it doesn’t matter if the food was frozen.

I overcooked the sausage. My mother was amazed to see what was a fat tube of meat shriveled to half its size.

So in the end, it was no longer longganisa. The meat was dry and too deep-fried, it was a sausage-shaped chicharon that sprung out of my plate when I cut it with a spoon.