Man-Blog

An Open Letter To That Very Cute Chinita Barista At Seattle's Best Coffee Tomas Morato

Editor: Adrian Magnaye | Supposedly Under: the-fag-squad | Email this

Hi,

First off let me get the obligatory inroductory speech out of the way. My name is Ade Magnaye, blogger extrordinaire. Internet celebrity. Rock star. Stalker magnet. Member of the awesomiffic group of perverts and child pornographers, The Man Blog. I usually order Chai Tea Latte, in the hope that you won’t see me as the usual frappucino-ordering ilk and that you see me as posh and shit. I bring my laptop everytime and pretend to surf the internet, but seeing I can’t afford your shop’s stupid expensive wireless, I actually stare at my desktop wallpaper every single time. I go every every other day to the coffee shop you work in so I could ogle at your wonderfully beautiful chinita face from a distance. And wank off in the bathroom.

Broccoli of Dating

Editor: Adrian Magnaye | Supposedly Under: the-fag-squad | Email this

This is probably my second collaborative blog entry with anybody, and I’m liking it. Well, Kring and I got tired of whining to each other about how sucky our respective love lives are, so we decided to collaborate and whine to you. So yeah, bear with us on the emoness and all. It is Valentine’s after all.

KRING: I’ve been single for the past 22 years and I think I’ve somehow flaunted that fact like a tiara on my head. To me, NBSB = high standards. Not. In reality, I’ve cried a little too much thinking that maybe, just maybe, I’m not good enough. You see, guys only started asking me out last year. Hell, I had my first real kiss just before the 2007 elections and I have never received a love letter in my life. Not even anything that says “I crush you. Pautang naman ng pamasahe…” (I have a crush on you. Can I borrow fare money?)



ADE: I actually did that to someone. Y’see, I was broke way back in college and I needed money REAL badly. So I like looked for the ugliest fattest, richest girl I could find. So I wrote the mushiest love letter I could think of and then five paragraphs on I asked for a hundred bucks so I could afford to eat lunch. And then she probably fell in love with me then and there. Yeah, I got my lunch money but I spent the next three years of college with a fat girl hiding in the bushes everywhere I go. Also, it was scary- wait aren’t we writing about the Broccoli of Dating? Yeah, so I just got my 20th Valentine’s Day date rejection. And my fifth restraining order.

The Bim's Dating Guide

Editor: Bim Barbieto | Supposedly Under: the-fag-squad | Email this

As much as I hate this month with the passion of a thousand burning suns, I understand the need for some of my bretheren to impress their women on what they consider to be a special time of the year. And as the dating scene got more and more competitive, techniques, rules and guides have been developed and it has gotten more difficult to score an impressive date performance rating. But worry not, my friend. The Bim is here to help you out in-

In this guide, we discuss the rules of the before, the during and the after of a hot date. So, here we go.

Baddie and TMB Love You

Editor: Baddie | Supposedly Under: the-fag-squad | Email this

So, it’s Valentine’s Week. As a responsible blogger and all around nice guy, I’m taking it upon myself to represent the rest of the closet hopeless romantic TMB editors in sharing the love with all you blog-reading people. I shall do this through the magic of poetry. This gift of love comes in the form of greeting card-ish poems that you manly men out there can share with your loved ones. Please do. You’ll thank us later. And as for you ladies, consider this collection of poems our Valentine’s love letter to you. We’re not just horny fat guys here. We have feelings too. Feelings… for you. This is not just about public service, people! This is all about love. Because goddammit, Baddie and TMB love you.

Sanitary Napkin Manliness

Editor: Bim Barbieto | Supposedly Under: the-fag-squad | Email this

Yes, those things. A woman’s best friend during her monthly visit, or as I like to call it- The biggest excuse to act like a bitch and get away with it. These things can be found almost everywhere, from the corner store to the super market. And though I’m no woman, I’m pretty sure most women keep it in stock in their rooms somewhere. I’m sure the mentality behind that is identical to the mentality of having a gun or carrying condoms- It’s better to have it and not need it than to need it and not have it. But what happens when one runs out?

Why is a man seen buying a sanitary napkin considered to have been drained of every last bit of masculinity? I prepared a small diagram to very briefly, yet clearly, represent the query. Here’s a quick diagram:

The Mix Tape...Of Love!

Editor: Mike Villar | Supposedly Under: the-fag-squad | Email this

In about a week’s time, my girlfriend is celebrating her birthday. Since I am a successful, elegant urban professional, I have taken it upon myself to assemble the most romantic, most expensive gift I could ever hope to conceive: THE MIX TAPE…OF LOVE! (Yes, I know. Shut up.)

The problem with this idea, as is the problem with all the other ideas I’ve had, is that it’s half-assed. If I could write about a book about my life, a good part of it would be discussing in detail how I have always been good in starting and never finishing. My interest on things I thought I’m passionate about wane quickly. But this, dear friends is different. To say that the Mix Tape…of love! is an “interest” would be a severe understatement because recently, this has become nothing short of a full-blown obsession for me.

I want to create one of the greatest, if not THE greatest mix tape in the history of mankind. I want to concoct something so great that you’d have to be either paralyzed from the waist down or have a weird inverted penis not to get some poontang whenever you play this around women. I want to be able to make something so compelling that no woman, her sobriety notwithstanding, would be able to resist the urge to take in the awesome cock of the equally awesome guy who plays this mix tape. I want to create something so powerful that if Buddha was alive and wanted so score some curry-flavored punani, it would’ve been what he’d pop into his CD player

The Dip. Marry-ability

Editor: Mike Villar | Supposedly Under: the-fag-squad | Email this

For some reason or another, I have been thinking about marriage these past few days. If you’ve been reading my stuff long enough, you might go ahead and jump into conclusions about this just being a “phase” of some sort. After all, I wrote this almost a year ago.

(And really, is it my fault that the girl I proposed to lied about her job and wasn’t really a flight attendant but a dancer who trades her “services” for canned vegetable outside a clothing store in the middle east? I think not.)

But seriously, marriage is slowly beginning to present itself as a nascent position lately. This, I feel, is largely due to the fact that right now, I have the best girlfriend a guy could ever have. Before my girlfriend and I got together, my original plan was to marry whoever it is I’m dating by the time I turn 31 (preferably someone underage. And with dead parents, or parents who are drug addicts. Or both.)

Lately though, I find myself in a serious bind—or as my recent favorite author Seth Godin would call it: a Dip(or, who knows? Maybe even a cul-de-sac?). This “Dip” that I speak of is the fact that I feel that as if, right now, I have peaked. I am as marry-able as I’m ever going to get.

In fact, forget “peaking” as I think I’ve passed my peak years ago. Right now, my life is on a downward slide that will ultimately end in a mail-to-order bride, annulment, severe alcoholism and drug addiction, murder and fire.

The Pearl Boy Dating Experience

Editor: Lauren Dado | Supposedly Under: the-fag-squad | Email this

A Pearl Boy is the most straight-arrow, conventional guy you can ever come across. They are uncomplicated creatures who enjoy manly activities like going to the gym, watching basketball (or other sports), going clubbing, taking pictures of themselves (to post in their Friendster), collecting girls (to put in their Friendster), taking pictures of themselves with lots of girls (to post in their Friendster), flirting with girls, dating girls, talking to girls, etc. Congratulations, you have just fallen in love with a Pearl Boy!

Pearl boys are also known as “douchebags”

Dealing With Break-Ups: The Whoopi Goldberg Masturbation Challenge

Editor: Coco Collantes | Supposedly Under: the-fag-squad | Email this

This activity is called “The Whoopi Goldberg Masturbation Challenge.” It’s pretty self-explanatory, but this isn’t as easy as it sounds. For starters, you’re trying to beat off to Whoopi Goldberg.

Whoopi Goldberg. Oh yeah.

Picking Up Women Series: The Playah’s Guide to Being Discreet

Editor: Steel Ventus | Supposedly Under: the-fag-squad | Email this

So Mordo’s influential tips and tools of the trade have shaped you into becoming the suave and charming Player that you are. By now you, the flourishing Casanova, are already built to hunt, skilled in the art of seduction and practiced in a plethora of abilities to choose from when attempting to woo a breathless beauty. For the most part, you don’t need to be told how to handle women.

This entry, therefore, is not a standard lecture on the various ways one can approach and seduce a lady; rather, it will serve as a supporting guide to prevent possible catastrophe if in case you happen to ensnare more than one fine female specimen at a given time. Let’s face it, as Mikey pointed out in his previous article, any man can draw multiple attentions by using nothing but sheer confidence. But keeping a number of women without experiencing an upheaval from each other would require another skill.

Rather than being forced to think on the spot if ever you get caught and gamble with potentially disastrous loss (along with nagging, slapping and the whole nine yards), you should have foolproof prevention plans laid out. Have them ready, prepare accordingly and implement each one with careful precision.