Marocharim Simpson, Marocharim South Park

Surprisingly, this is not petiks Sunday.  I had to write some stuff, and I was fresh off an impromptu session at Eat My English (Metrowalk, Ortigas) with some of my friends.  I’ve been Alt-Tabbing between Word, Yahoo! Messenger, GMail, and yes, Plurk.

What the hell am I doing on a rainy Sunday working, I have no idea.  But to sum this non-petiks day up:

1. It’s a rush job anyway, but I always find it hard to rush an article (facepalm).
2. The Chairman just told me that my 366-page tome/paperweight is now available at the school library, and is actually being read by people (facepalm).
3. Over at PlurkLand, I seem to still have my (ahem) issues with the… nice, cashier/barista at yesterday’s meet at Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf, Gateway (uh, Jen… balikan natin, LOL)

So to make the best out of petiks, I decided to make two – yes, I’m not bored enough to make a lyrics translation, two – avatars of how I would look like dare I appear in The Simpsons or on South Park (hats off to Elaine for the Simpsons thing):

Let’s start with my Simpson-esque visage:

In the interest of making a joke, my Simpsons doppelganger looks like Diether from that old Mike Myers sketch, “Sprockets.”

Not funny?  I know.  But I rue the day that I’ll find a woman who’ll marry my Springfield clone looking so… metro.  (I would say gay, but I don’t want to end up defending myself all over again much to the ire of haters and frenemies who think I’m gay.)

Which says more for my evil South Park visage:

This picture has been my IM avatar for quite a while now… I guess it captures my Dasein. I would have liked added a few weapons here and there, but a child-murdering stray Manny Pacquiao-hating Sodomite antichrist-spawn like myself (snigger… time for Google to do its work) does well with a South Park character worse than, say, Mr. Hat, Damien, or even Saddam.

This day is so not good.  I expected Nadia Montenegro and Cristy Fermin to bitchslap the living heck out of each other.

Marocharim • October 5, 2008 • Stuff