Watch for a completely new influenzabloggers site when we completely lose our tail and come out with a bordering-on-nasty blog. Some posts will be totally not suitable for women or NSFW but hey, women who come here are enlightened anyway so it shouldn’t be a biggie.

If you must know, yes we have already purchased the domain just to ensure that nobody usurps our rightful property. And oh, we will start flexing our SEO muscles as well, so if you want to cash in on that, now may be a very good time to contribute. If not, well, it’s not really your loss but it would be a shame.

We still won’t be dishing out posts that upsets anyone’s sensibilities though but we will be a little bit more sexier, a little bit more risque, but a whole lot more marketable. Yes folks, we will be venturing towards the greenland of blogging. This blog will start making money or by God, we will be putting Bloggista on a stake, and burning the bejesus out of him.

Sorry, had a couple of beers tonight.

Photo from sportsillustrated.co.za

DISCLOSURE:  THIS POST IS SPONSORED BY JAGERMEISTER

This was the scene that greeted me after I ditched four European countries just to catch the tail-end of Bloggista’s birthday celebration.  Three hours back, I was pulling my hair out in clumps trying to make heads or tails of the reports that I should be doing for these countries.  It didn’t help maters when these same guys were texting me every ten seconds egging me to quit my frigging job– sorry boys, a blogger does not live by adsense alone, unless you’re bloggista.

Before turning completely into a bald eagle, I decided to call it a day and rushed to where these three guys were.  I’ve never seen these guys to be so shitfaced it’s hilarious.  I wish I had my camera with me so I can show their faces here.

Anyway, I tried to compensate for the lost time by drinking like a fish.  I downed three bottles of beer in under 10 minutes, stat.  I smoked like a chimney and started ogling somebody else’s behind that was perilously close to rubbing against the Doc’s dozing face.  After my fourth bottle, I was already buzzing but not the dizzy kind of buzzing though, it was more like buzzing like a bee looking for flowers to erm.. pollenate.

Then Bloggista said that we should go to…..

Next thing I know, I’m in my bed, stripped to my underpants, and the doc was sleeping in a futton below it.  Whether we went somewhere or did something after our drinking party, I no longer have any recollection.

And you know, if you can’t remember a damn thing– it never really happened.

Warning: This is an unbearably long post that doesn’t seem to go anywhere. If you have the attention span of a gnat and can’t tolerate mediocre posts, go find another hole and die.

Boy meets girl. Girl meets boy. That’s the way it has always been unless their parents intervene. It starts with a smile, a few secret glances maybe, perspiration and some heavy duty heart pounding. Then the boy musters enough courage to come forward and say hello, they exchange pleasantries, swap war stories, comment about the weather, yadda yadda, blah blah blah. After all the nervous talk, and when it seems there’s a hint of electricity in the air or chemistry or whatever, they exchange phone numbers and promised to get in touch.

They both go home although they would have wanted to stay together for a while longer. Still they continued to keep in touch on their way home through texting. You know, the usual ’I had fun’ and ’I really liked talking to you’. This goes on throughout the night until sleep overcomes them or one of them wipes out his/her load, whichever comes first. The following morning, the whole texting process is repeated with a touch of tenderness this time ’Kumain ka na ba?’ or ’Did you sleep well?’. They set a date to meet up. A date that was followed by another and then another.

Finally after a couple more dates, the boy professes his undying love with matching twinkling eyes and choking whispers. He promised her the moon and the stars, and his eternal devotion. The girl would have settled for a P500 load but says ’Yes’ anyway and then they hug. They head for the FX terminal hand in hand, not speaking, until their palms become clammy with sweat, the girl looking down at the ground and would occasionally steal a glance at her new ’boyfriend’. The boy looks at the girl lovingly and was already thinking if it’s too early yet to ask for a kiss.

What followed were days of unparalleled highs. They couldn’t bear to be away from each other. They shoved food down each other’s throat and licked each other’s fingers. Until the defining moment came, when both of them seemed to be flooded by soft glowing light; they kiss for the first time. The world stopped with that kiss. Sound became dulled, actions frozen, and conversations floated in mid-air. In a split second everything returned to normal and they find themselves staring at each other’s eyes; both deciding that they want more and proceeded to dive into each other’s arms again, suck face some more, tickling each other’s tonsils with their tongue. One thing led to another and they found themselves surrounded by flowers; Dahlia, Ilang-ilang, and Sampaguita. All part of Anito Group of Motels’ flower garden.

Being young, they couldn’t get enough of this good thing and decided to try different combinations; standing in Dahlia, crouching in Ilang-ilang, and lying in Sampaguita. They explored all the different flower permutations, and even added a page or two to the Kama Sutra (if that’s even possible).

One afternoon, after three hours of endless pleasure, they wake up and look at each other with stranger’s eyes. They were thinking the same thing ’Who is this person, and what am I doing here?’. They wordlessly dressed and got in a cab to the mall where they went their separate ways. That night they broke up through text, but not after promising each other that they would never forget the times that they shared, yet both of them knowing that these were just empty words. They didn’t even bother to text the following day, and the days after that.

In another part of the city, a young man who just got his first job logged into a chat room and hooked up with a chatter named cuteannie04. They chatted for a while and agreed to an EB. They met at Gateway, watched a movie, held hands, did a lot of calisthenics inside the theater, and proceeded to do the deed in the nearest Sogo Hotel. When all has been said and done (emphasis on done) the guy dressed first and left a note on the table beside the bed, near the sleeping cuteannie04. The note said ’Thank you and Goodbye’.

Two tales that started differently; one timidly, and the other straight to the point, both ending in the same vein, with muted goodbyes and a rumpled bed in the background.

I don’t mean to sound too callous, it’s just that sometimes we look for love when there is none. We convince ourselves that it’s love we’re feeling and then get really disappointed when it doesn’t work out. When we see a sweet little thing for example, and start to feel the fire in our loins, we declare to ourselves that we are in love, only to be brought crashing down to earth after a cold shower and a hot meal.
And when we’re convinced beyond doubt that we’re feeling something resembling love, we had to do a lot of thing-a-ma-jigs before we can actually get to the point. Why can’t we just say directly to our object of desire ’I like you, why don’t we get together sometime and see where we go from there?’, without having to first shuffle our feet and ask inane questions? Sure, we can be direct about it if we want to, but then we’ll surely find ourselves looking at the ceiling at an odd angle, the echo of a resounding slap playing over and over in our heads. Women feel that stunts like that cheapen them. True perhaps, or it could be that, that particular scenario just doesn’t exactly fit the dime store romance novel setting that a lot of girls long for; hence the painful rebuff.

I guess what I’m trying to say is that you really won’t know that it’s real love unless you try it out. You wouldn’t know that the water in a lake is cold unless you dive in right? If you think about it, it’s easier to see if a lake is cold, you just have to dip a finger or two to realize that beneath its calm surface is freezing water. Love on the other hand can be a bit tricky. In its initial phases, both parties like to put their best foot forward. There’s never been a time when a boy or girl becomes a model of good behavior like the first few weeks of a relationship.

So if we are to test the realness of love, and we know that it takes a long time to discover that certainty, why do we have to dilly-dally during the courtship phase, when we can just jump into the lake of relationship and know in a shorter span of time if the water is cold or pleasantly warm? Why prolong an already long process of determining love’s authenticity by being coy during the initial stages?

I say, ’Say yes and get a room already!’ Don’t bore yourself with the first few lines, get to the chorus and decide. Enough said.

Unfortunately, the post title is my poor attempt to lure nudists and porn enthusiasts to have a look and hopefully contribute a little for this blog’s awesome Alexa ranking.

After all, this is my first post being one of the Influenza Bloggers who are nothing but a bunch of worthless bloggies trying to make an impression to everyone that we are not always thinking about porn and that blogging isn’t really one hell of a lonely job, err, hobby.

Influenza Bloggers is all about fun, booze, women, and tendencies to bare all just to grab attention and impress Ms. Alexa (who the hell is she?) and fatten Mr. Go Gol’s wallet with adsense cents.

Anyways, should the Influenza Bloggers decide to take all these non-sense stuff one step forward, we’ll be doing what these goofy guys are doing and go viral with YouTube.

Warning: Not for the faint of … heart…

A lady sporting a seductive fragrance sat next to me. Her curves were noticeable through her black shirt. I saw her placed her left hand to her inner thigh; her fingers caressed her jeans. Her right hand was on the handrail, then she slowly placed it on top of her right thigh. Our forearms touched.

I felt the electricity on my skin! My blood started to engorge my veins; my breathing tightened…

The jeepney stopped. For a second, we were Vis-à-vis. I almost drowned in her eyes. Her lips were so full; I tasted strawberries in my tongue.

She moved quickly, but out lips did not meet. She left with my dinner, then my stomach started to growl.

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For more flash fiction with 140 words, please visit http://140flashfiction.com

Let’s see how resourceful you are boys and girls. Guess what this is and you get a free starbucks coffee from me. No joke.

Are You A Genius?

Note: I should be crediting the owner of this pic, but I’m not gonna do so, at least not for now. I promise to do so after this activity. lol.

And so October is a Breast-Cancer Awareness Month. A lot of organizations are promoting awareness, either in the traditional way, or in some extent, controversial ones. Here’s is one of those controversial sexy ads:

Some may remember only the hot chick and what is beneath those white tops. Oh, boy! Please don’t get carried away. Remember the cause. I repeat, remember the cause. We can instead opt for the pink ribbon in support of the breast-cancer survivors.

As a consolation Megan baby, we’ve labelled you as ‘the hotness monster’ so you need not fret. By the way boys and girls, the title, ‘the hotness monster’, is not entirely original. This was a phrase coined in that TV series ‘Greek’. Go watch it, it’s good for your soul. Right.


Anyway, Kate Beckinsale is the kind of girl that you’d readily bring home and introduce to Mommy, and of course to your little friend. hehehe. By the way, Kate already has a kid and yet you see her in this photoshoot and she’s still smoking ::wringing my hands:: hot!