i often wonder what makes the Most Interesting Guy In The World. why is he the way that he is.

its funny coz everyday, i open my web and find myself clicking interesting persons i know first. Celebrities, pretty people, fashion muguls. And it always makes me wonder what’s in their lives that makes them so damn interesting. what is in them that captivates empty souls like me?

we’ve heard of Justin Bieber getting famous on Youtube, the pretty Alodia striking inter-galactic fame through dressing up(Cosplay) and the up and coming, my favorite, Pomplamoose(with the soap). Far from plain ordinary, but they used to be. They used to be just the other person sitting beside you in class, or the one in the back flicking guitar sounds. We used to be better than them in math; used to share our lunch with; beat them in basketball.  even borrowed my pen and never gave it back !!!! (cries in prolonged agony)

but that was then. And here they are now. *gains back composure*

Graceful as a swan. Apple of our eyes.

well, back to my question. is being interesting/famous/extraordinary require skill and extra talent? or can one be like “The Most Interesting Man in the World” who, though nameless, holds the world in his soft hands.

“His blood smells like cologne…He taught a horse to read his email for him… If he we’re to punch you in the face, you’d have to fight off the urge to thank him… Sharks have a week dedicated to him..He once taught a German Shepard how to bark in Russian… His organ donor card also includes his beard”

Like the old Greek-Chinese-Budhist and partly Filipino saying, the greater things in life are small *woop*


my heart skipped. for the past years, me and him never talked about this. yes we are friends. but as men, we never talked about emotions. never. we mask everything in a charade of muscles and insulting jokes. to cry or simply pout or laugh joyously – to show any inch of emotion, as a real man, was as worse as death- with your hands tied behind your back, needles poking your eyeballs,5 inch nails brushing your gums, and a midget rubbing sand paper on your skin till it bleeds. Excruciating.
One rule my uncle gave me when i got my first strand of pubic hair was, “Today onward you are a man, from now on, never… eve…ever giggle, smirk, or show a bit of heart.”. emotion ,according to him, is a weakness.

well going back to me and my friend. well, yeah. we never really talked about anything at all. i remember singing Destiny’s child’s “stand up for love” with him in the dormitory with all the high notes and hand movements, he was doing Kelly and of course, me, Beyonce. then pretending nothing happend after the notes died down. silence. ( crickets chirping)
it was a guy thing. all guys do that. nothing special.

We give a smirk if we’re happy. nod our head for a greeting, scratch our inner thighs(approximately 2cm away from our groin) when we see something we’re really interested in(some rub their fingers on their nose after), or the basic, fart when we’re really comfortable with you.

He told me he was starting to fall for this girl.
Startling news for him that never really said anything about attraction or women the past 8 years i’v known him. the closest to woman or attraction i heard him talk about would be from Breast-feeding programs we used to run at communities before or sales-lady selling pirated dvds infront of Gaisano( he could spend days bargaining prices); the unlikelyness is so great that one time i had to implement my responsibilities as s friend to defend his name from questions of homosexuality and begging other male friends not to shun themselves from him when he accidentally bumps them from behind in basketball games or going to public bathrooms.
He is a good friend, dont get me wrong. a great one i should say. when i was at my worse he was there for me, throwing pillows at me when i was pretending to sleep. or poking my behind when im writing my notes( that doesn’t sound right) or screaming at my ear,”im home” at 2am in the morning when he’s coming from duty and im sound asleep.

he was always fun to be with… and now he’s falling in love.

As hard as i can, i tried my best to form a smile. i am, deep inside, happy for him. happy that he can finally open up. happy that he found somebody.happy that he found someone great. happy that he’s happy…

but common,im not gonna cry. i’m not making a huge deal out of it. its not like we’re jumping for joy or something.-we’re both adult males. we dont smile. we smirk. happy for you boy!