$199!

I'm having a hard time deciding to be ecstatic or depressed. I should be ecstatic cos $199 is more than reasonable. It's obiously cheaper than most phones on the market but offers a heck of a lot more (I wonder how efficient should a company be to be able to deliver such an advanced technology for what seems to be a fraction of it's total cost). On the other hand, the price of my Touch should have a nosedive right abooouuut.... now.

Only a couple more years till Apple rules the world... and I will be their humble servant. So should you.

The Soap Opera Special - Season 1

1 The apocalyptic news.
Conveyed in a 'by the way' tone sugar coated with an innocent smile that has been clinging on every single hopeful imagination for the past year or so.

2 The crack.
Ever so faint, yet agonizingly loud at the same time. You try to listen to it, but you're listening to silence. You know its fucking real, though. Every fucking crack on your soul.

3 The spontaneous combustion.
You start feeling warm and nothing else. That cold glass you're holding, not a single chill. Then a surge of heat comes in. You can feel it inside. You want it to go away. You beg it to go away. Fat chance, asshole. The heat is now your new best friend, better get used to it.

4 The rubbing. (As in rubbing it in...)
The news, the crack, the heat, those are just hors d'oeuvres, my friend. Then the stories sweeps in... narrated, once again with the brilliantly concealed iniquitous smile. Dear God, those stories. A tale worthy of praises and awards ('mesmerizing and gripping' - The Times). No details left unsaid. Every single word slices and dices their way through your soul (or what's left of it). You wonder how could a person be so oblivious.

5 The endorsement.
Here comes the fun part. You are in f-u-c-k-i-n-g p-a-i-n but guess what, you still manage to give her your best smile. You give your approval. You endorse her newfound Romeo. Even after you arrived home later that night, the "I'm happy as long as you're happy" bullshit slips out your mouth, leaving a painful stabbing feeling in your gut. The classic cliffhanger for a soap opera, the nastiest sensation crafted by God.

To think that you came all the way down there with a bad case of the flu, a bag full of hopes and a fully functioning heart. Yes, Ms. Morissette, it is Ironic. Yes Mr. Boyd, it is a Sick Sad Little World. Cheers, Aristotle. May you rest in peace. Cue 'What a Wonderful World' and fade out.

Note:
Some of you will understand, some of you won't. If you don't understand, be grateful. If you do, hang in there. Somebody someday will stop all this nonsense.

Remember Rocketeer?

I shit you not!

Quote of the Year

"In my opinion, the best thing you can do is find a person who loves you for exactly what you are. Good mood, bad mood, ugly, pretty, handsome, what have you, the right person will still think the sun shines out your ass. That's the kind of person that's worth sticking with."

Mac MacGuff

The Good Old Days

Remember back then when we were young? :D

The All New iPhone

http://macbigot.com/media/iPhoneWallpaper1024x768.jpg

The Perfect Soundtrack For...

Acoustic guitars, gentle rythms, sensible drum beats, the occasional piano notes and an everyday voice: the perfect recipe for an easy listening album. Jack Johnson's style is so undemanding that you'd be listening through his newest album without a single touch of hesitation. 'Sleep Through the Static' is the perfect soundtrack for:
1. Sunday driving.
2. After-hours in the office waiting for the rain to stop, cursing silently on your God given lack of skill to multi-task which naturally makes you extremely focused on one job while at the same time disregarding everything else including bringing your raincoat to work since you're using the friggin motorcycle that day.
3. The long and winding drive home after going on a what-you-hoped-was-a date date with the perfect illustration of God's creation you've secretly fallen in love with for a long time just to be ditched after an hour of apparently-it-wasn't-a-fucking-date date and all the while vowing to yourself not fall down that same old well again though you desperately wished every single call coming out of your cellphone to be from her (while most of it was from work, why God, why!?).
4. Writing down a suspiciously detailed blog entry (mixed with 'Continuum', 'Saturday Nights & Sunday Mornings', and 'Parachutes').

Details are meant to be impartial to any of the writer's or his colleagues' past experience.

... or are they?