Dear Mom: Send Propecia Please!

By popular demand, more fun at V's expense.
No tricks, see for yourself photographic evidence of rapid onset female pattern baldness:

12 February 2004*


4 September 2005
[Rx Postscript: Gentlemen, would you ever hit this, except maybe on a dare? Yes, I am appropriately shamed. No "8 hour red-eye flight" excuse for this shot, my dear. You're just ugly. And balding. And filipino. And 5'0" tall. And unemployed for over 2 years. And with $0.00 savings. And 29-years-old with no advanced degree, no career. And with no immigration status in any Western country in the world. And need I say it, no boyfriend. No clever put-downs required, there's just no comeback to this. You, are a fucking loser.]

[Rx Postscript #2: Maybe I spoke too soon. Let's take an informal inventory of what you do have going for you. You have 9 11 friends: Kathy, Diane, Will, Elena, Paki, Rob, Maloy, Elizabeth, Kevin, Naomi, Alison. 7/11 are cipher chinese, filipino or indian, 1 neandertal, 3 token white females whom you latched onto after they had the grievous misfortune of crossing paths with you. Wow, you're very popular, I had no idea. 6/11 are unemployed or would be better off were they so and on the welfare rolls. That's impressive too. I can't match that level of utter failure and incompetence in my friends. 7/11 in North America. The deportation thing must have hurt. But you always have IM. You are very adept at managing multiple marathon IM sessions simulateously with salon.com, slate, and anonymous proxies, while you look like a mental patient on the VAIO with the broken hinge that you stole from your Mom that requires you to view the screen parallel to the ground. In Hong Kong, you have 2 of these friends, an ugly socially awkward marginally employed poseur CBC, and, an ugly socially awkward marginally employed poseur CBC. Apart from your Mom, your Dad, and all your sisters and cousins, NO ONE in your family hates your guts. After 4 years and $20,000, you really know your way around a pilates mat. You've gained admission to a second-(third-?) tier British school, where you won't need to be even a little bit self-conscious about your man-sized, smoke-stained, overbite-from-hell dentition. Let's run down the likely matriculation list: Oxford-no; Cambridge-no way; Imperial-no; LSE-LOL; Bath-no; University College-no; York-no; Warwick-no; Bristol-no; Durham-uh no; St. Andrews-please; Nottingham-no; Edinburgh-no; Birmingham-no; Newcastle-no...anyway, I've made my point, outside the top 10 in the UK you might as well take a fucking correspondence course, it's roughly an equivalent degree. But you've got that going for you--you'll get your Social-Work-cum-Spanish (but of course)-cum-International-Labor piece of toilet paper MA to go with your Tufts-Spanish-cum-International-Studies piece of toilet paper BA by age 30 after $40K + expenses + lost wages. Yay for V! The future is so encouraging, you'll have countless opportunities laid out before you. Let's see, what else? You can't be any more broke than you are right now. You can't be any more desperate to get laid (or even just a half-hearted compliment would be nice, wouldn't it, honey?), by anyone, than right now--well, after your period this weekend, that is. Those are positives, I think, your ill fortune might finally be bottoming out. You can always, AT ANY TIME, go back to the Philippines. That's awesome, Makati City is a wondrous place. About 50 people from Craiglists ACROSS THE COUNTRY think you can write a kick-ass piece of psycho bitch narrative after working on it for 2 months--how exciting for you. Will & Elena WILL ALWAYS pick you up from the airport--which would be great if you could ever re-enter the US. But it's still an ace in your back pocket for when the Patriot Act is lifted. Nalin, Rob, Matt, and David will fuck you ANY TIME you want--probably. And they're all REALLY attractive men (LOL), much better matches for you in this respect than I was. Kristian would fuck you as long as he can get over his insecurity about following my Magnum with his 5" into Veronica's [walk-in] closet". Hell, he fucked that whore Elena, didn't he? Maybe you should take a road trip to Shanghai if you haven't already, Rob's not that gross when you mentally shade him about 10 tones and blissfully ignore the 'missing link' facial homomorphies. Let's just call him Seth from now on. Hey a girl's gotta eat. And he has a Ben Sherman jacket--time out, I'm getting hard. You are charmingly unaware that red jeans, irrespective of the designer, are not timeless fashion but epistemologically hideous--so cute and refreshing! You operate under a self-delusion that you need a bra for your A-minus-minus--very endearing in an ingenue sort of way. You know how to cook something, you must--I personally just don't know what. You can recite Johnny Depp's bio by heart--perhaps more impressive than your distinguished dialectics in the arts and letters (you know, your Blog, read far & wide by your 9 11 friends). You can make your way through the poseur's official handbook The New Yorker like nobody's business. When people talk to you in person, your pathetically juvenile voice and discourse is luckily glossed over in the more immediate visual bemusement of confronting a true midget, one who thinks she has street cred because she knows a Fat Joe track and says "SA" from time to time. You are accomplished at all sorts of sporting endeavors--sorry that's Caspar, your phantom "new boyfriend". But you've been known to walk briskly on occasion. Your hairline might come back (oookkk). The scar might fade more over time. As long as you're facing away, you generally give good head. And you seem to enjoy it. Screw the UK, I think I may know just the profession for you--and it wouldn't even be a stretch given your family history (see your sister Nina) and obvious ethnic proclivities. See, I said something nice here. Who says you're a loser? You've got a lot to live for Veronica. And you have at least 10 years before you get cancer! Godspeed.]

*Disconcerting Flashback #1: If I recall, this picture was taken right before she related a charming story about putting out for a happening African-American store clerk in NY, so she could get a free meal & drinks. Did you happen to catch the name of this blog? Veronica puts the "E" in E-Z. Throw her a token compliment, buy her a drink, and by the end of the night yes, you too can be doing the dirtiest things to her at your virtual wont, maybe even get peed on if you are among the few endowed with "magic fingers".

Disconcerting Flashback #2: Letting the black guy bone her for a cranberry vodka is itself reminiscent of the first time we had sex--the conditions of which always distress me in retrospect as a character-revealer that I chose to outright disregard at the time, lost in the "freaky-sex" novelty of the moment. After hanging out most of the day watching paint dry, sorry, David Lynch films (a common ploy of the aspiring vapid nouveau chic that I also definitely flagged, but again, disregarded in the visual and sensory bedlam of receiving acrobatic head at 5 am) and forcing me to endure what I now know to be her de rigeur "massage strategy" to getting laid, exasperated that I just wasn't that into it after kneading her sweaty chubby thighs, back, neck, and ARMS for 40 minutes, she exclaimed "Are we gonna fuck or what?" Classy. So very classy. Try it on someone ugly & desperate, I am certain you'll find better success.

Just Say No

stop the insanity already. it ends here. this is such a waste of time. you're all fucking L-O-S-E-R-S. but since you were apparently interested yesterday--why rely on the Google cache? that shit isn't current! you only need ask. allow me--I'll re-post them for ya.

dio, why are you still in Hong Kong anyway? head to Thailand already and convince yourself you won't obsess for the rest of your life. your routine is so predictable, tired & pathetic.

hey, for kicks you should pull up the now deposited check (#108) online. do you realize your whole body was shaking as you wrote it? that's what's called a total breakdown. one of the saddest scenes i've ever witnessed, and you've had plenty. [ok, actually the one where you were like "please, please hit me. i want you to punch me in the face. i really think there's something wrong with me..."--that actually topped this, but it's pretty close. actually no, the one where you begged me at my apartment door to have you arrested for violating my restraining order. well...maybe not, how about when you browbeat me for hours on the phone from NY this summer after you'd struck out there for months. "i'll do anything you want, anything. i'll totally give up my loser friends, i'll agree with whatever you say. i love you so much, i'm obsessed with you. and i'm so much better than [current girlfriend]. please, please...no?? ok, then i'm gonna threaten you into fucking me." anyway, i digress]

and then your tearful pleas for your fucking picture? "ok, ok, you can have it--please, please don't kill yourself... can you get the fuck of here now?" LOL p.s. btw honey, don't think for a second that I forgot about the oldman betrayal. dude, that would totally fucking suck if you encountered immigration troubles down in LatAm on your walk down memory lane! not like i would know anything about why that would happen, were that to occur, hypothetically speaking. "no way, i gotta go home?!! where's my fucking party?!"

Vote for Santos!

hey dio, what's your middle name again?

Philippines Nabs Suspected Chief Of Terrorist Group
By James Hookway 408 words 27 October 2005 The Wall Street Journal A18English(Copyright (c) 2005, Dow Jones & Company, Inc.)

Philippine security forces dealt a blow to a dangerous terrorist alliance, capturing the suspected leader of a group of militant Muslim converts that is linked to the Abu Sayyaf terrorist organization.

Hilarion del Rosario Santos III, a former Christian who converted to Islam and allegedly led a radical group known as the Rajah Solaiman Movement, was arrested with his wife and five other suspected militants by Philippine military intelligence officers early yesterday at a hideout in Zamboanga City on the southern island of Mindanao.

Mr. Santos's group has been linked by Philippine police to a series of terror attacks in the Philippines, including the bombing of a ferry in Manila Bay last year that killed 116 people.

Philippine intelligence officials say Mr. Santos and other Muslim converts from the Manila area had been playing an important role in Abu Sayyaf's efforts to evolve beyond its roots as an kidnap-for-ransom gang and become a full-fledged terrorist group.

Abu Sayyaf also has been forging closer ties to Southeast Asia's Jemaah Islamiyah, a Muslim militant network with historical links to al Qaeda.The Indonesia-centered radical group has dispatched bomb-making experts to the Philippines to help train Abu Sayyaf recruits, intelligence officials say.

So far, however, it has been Abu Sayyaf's alliance with the less well-known Rajah Solaiman Movement that has proved more effective.

With an intimate knowledge of potential terrorist targets in Manila, followers of Mr. Santos find it easier to blend into the crowd than members of Abu Sayyaf, whose familiarity with urban areas is limited to the towns of the southern Philippines, security officials say... >>