“I’ll make it up to you..” he says.

He comes to my life. I go crazy. He leaves. I go crazy. I would swear I’d never be stupid. He comes back. And…

I’m practically all mush.

No free samples today. And I was hungry like hell. So right after, I rushed to the food court and got me a Very Berry Sundae, and oh man, it was the best thing I’ve ever put in my mouth this summer. I don’t know if it’s the hunger or the goodness of it but I enjoyed it.. though I couldnt finish the whole thing because it became all liquid-y over time and was a little too disgusting to eat.

So the whole undertone of this entry is that I haven’t lost any fats yet (I think I’ve gained a couple more actually). It’s really hard to follow up a regime especially if I dont have a definite schedule everyday and so my eating patterns are a bit irregular.

And fucking fuck. There’s this swim/ hangout thing tomorrow. Double trouble. Because 1.) there’d be lots of food and 2.) I’m gonna be in my bikini and I dont want people to see me inflate right before their eyes.

Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.

Goals. They seem pretty tangible then.. but now, I’m just tooo damn lazy to follow through. And it’s August already. It seems like the whole month of July just swooshed by. And I’m no 2-piano-pieces-accomplished, 2-books-read person. I’m just a huge blob of laziness and fat.

Okay okay.. I know people are gonna go, “but Rina, you’re not fat.” But I am fat! I’m not completely okay with it — but I’ve accepted it as a fact. This may be a psychological eating disorder or whatever you want to call it, but I’m resolved to shape up.

No starvation this time. I’ve the rest of the summer to slim down. My dad just got this elliptical exercise (shit, I’m growing dyslexic too! It took me a minute to figure out how to spell exercise!) and I have a pool in my backyard. I NEED TO SWEAT out 5 pounds of fat!

That’s my goal before this summer ends. Five pounds to shed.

I’m 121 lbs right now.

I’ll be 116 before September.

Hay. Sana nga.

Ten minutes ago when I got back home, I dug in my bed for my phone, flipped it open, and to my dismay found out that no one called. No one. Not even the blocked-caller dude who said he was my fiance. Not even the guy I’m sorta talking to right now. Not even the guy who wants to hang out. Not even my girl friends. No prank calls. No nothing. I flipped my phone open and it was just my lone wall paper.

Sad, aint it?

This morning — I dont know if this was the same person — I got a call from a blocked number.

“Hello?” I said as I flipped open my cell.

The guy on the other line hesitated but mustered: “Hi, is Roberto there?”

“There’s no Roberto here. Sorry, buddy.” I was gonna hang up when Caller XYZ apparently still wanted to chitchat.

“Well, what’s your name?” he asked.

“Sir, I don’t think I need to disclose my name to you.”

“I’m just asking what’s your name?”

“Why?” I said a little bit irked and a little bit amused.

“To love you..”

“What the fu–.. What?”

“To love you.. I’m your fiance..”

“Haha.. Mister, there’s no Roberto here. You have probably dialed the wrong number. Sorry,” I said and hung up.

What a weirdo, I thought to myself. Wow. I actually like getting phonecals from people. Not complete strangers, you know, but new acquaintances. I like talking to people who I barely know on the phone because I feel like I’m starting up a good friendly relationship with a clean slate.  And it makes me feel special that people actually call me to say what’s up or whatever.

I’m not really a phone person. I’m not a caller. I don’t normally call up people just to say wassup — unless 1.) you’re a family; 2.) it’s an emergency; 3.) i have hidden agendas/ i need to ask a favor; or 4.) i like you and you haven’t called me yet and I’m desperate.

Aw man. I think that’s a bad thing to not keep in touch with people. I mean I dont mind talking on the phone. I love phone calls and gossiping and stuff but I guess I hate insinuating the talk. I always feel like I’m barging into people’s spaces when I call so I’d rather not.

People, if you have my number, feel free to call. My phone ceased ringing since last week (except of course that weird caller) and I’m in dire need of a phone buddy.

I think I’m having another off week, so I’ve been keeping myself busy these days to at least not feel miserly and fat at home. I’ve been going to the mall and around town to see what’s up with everyone. My mom just filled my tank, so I get to go around. I only panic when my gas tank is 3 quarters empty anyways.

Oh, today I went to El Camino to take a Chemistry placement exam. On my way back to the parking lot, I noticed this huge scratch on my sideskirt (again). I sort of half-knelt down beside it and examined the damn scratch. All the while I’m thinking: “When the fuck did this thing happen?” No, I wasn’t crying yet, but I was pretty damn close to bawling until I saw these dried flowers on the back seat of the car.

“Wait a minute,” I thought to myself. “I don’t have dried flowers — HAH!”

It wasn’t my car!! Haha. Man. I felt more stupid than relieved. Tsk.

In times like these.. In times of single-hood.. I only rely on my car. It’s my boyfriend, you know. I love it. I love it. I mean, come on. It’s inanimate - yea - but it’s always there when I need it, it has never stood me up. My car is just as ideal as any other human specimen - it even has a stick.

Alright alright. That was a sexual innuendo. Haha. Hmm.. Maybe watching Bridget Jones didn’t really help me with my inner conflicts of singlehood and stuff. Gah. I’ll meet my Mark Darcy someday.. I just got to wait…

But fuck it. What is taking him so long?

But the fucker stood me up.

Maybe if it was just another guy it would’ve been okay. But JC was/is different. This is the guy I wrote poems for. The guy who I know I love deep down inside.. And no, it’s not one of my “I-want-to-fuck-you” kind of love.. It’s one of those unconditional love I never believed in until I’ve decided to become a martyr for him. Ehh.. the story’s way too long, way too cheesy to be told again.. Our story is all crap anyways.

Damn it. This blog is getting personal. I’ve always wanted to keep the sane Rina talking here. Not the cheesy side of me. I save all my love dramas for my other anonymous blog.

Whatever.

I hope JC finds a way to this blog and reads this entry and knows how shitty I feel right now.

On the other hand, it might just be my menstruation.

Molly Ringwald’s character is so honest; it’s so refreshing! Blane (the main guy) asked her: “You don’t lie, do you?”

“No,” she replied. “I don’t have to..”

I was moved. Whether we admit it or not, we’re all liars and deceptive creatures. Or at least I am — at times. And I wish I could be honest with everything — what I really feel, what I want, what I want to do, what I say devoid of all the bullshits I come up with everyday.

Anyhow, I was so inspired by it that I began thinking of ideas for an innovative and original love story. You know.. Something that was never done before — or at least something that’s not too cliche-ed  in movies nowadays..

And I came up with this storyline.

Get this:  BOY X and GIRL Z are engaged and are set to marry in a couple of weeks.. The conflict comes when BOY X confesses that he has had a gay relationship in the past. Turns out that he was gay - or bisexual at least. So how would GIRL Z take it? Would she back out of the wedding? Would their love be strong enough to surpass this sexual orientation issue?

I’d really love to see a movie with this plot.. We see romantic movies tackling social classes all the time.. But what about this? Well..

Something still holds me back from volunteering there. I’ve already mentioned I used to volunteer there, right? Well, back then, I met this guy who works in the library and we became friends. Little did I know that he has a girlfriend who is a little nuts in the head who apparently got a hold of my honest friendship with her boy and so she wrote me this letter warning me to get away from her man.

As much of a joke at it seemed, I couldn’t stop myself from telling her off. Was she fucking with me? Was she serious? “Don’t overreact. Your boyfriend isnt exactly Brad Pitt..” I told her.

Anyway.. the Nut Girl didn’t stop with the hate mail. She started volunteering at the library to better guard off her boyfriend. Luckily for her, my hours were completed and I was finished with my library duties the week before she started.

And last week I went to the library and yep, she was there. I don’t think she recognizes me anymore. I saw the Boyfriend and said “Hi,” but he was cold towards me.

“Oh, your girlfriend works here now, huh? I forgot..”

I wanted to add: “kupal ka! parang wala tayong pinagsamahan! ANDER!”

For the sake of the kind-hearted, anti-innuendo readership of my blog, I won’t translate that. It’s too graphic. But if you’d really wanna know, comment me and I’ll gladly translate it for you…

Anywayyy… since my summer’s been extreeemely bore-some and I’ve been running out of things to do for mere diversion, maybe I should volunteer again.. and wreak havoc, and spice up my library and summer experience while I’m at it.

::Insert evil laugh here::