j.i. go

there's no ICQ chatlog to mine as a smash hit this time, although the emails still have a bite now and then. so, let me rummage through my years and years of keeping crap (and having it accumulate dust), and see what i can find.

a-ha.


let's debunk his theories in this chickenscrawl of a note:

(1) its been years and the girl-robot named Wendy has now moved on to Europe and creates her own A.I. nanobots which she will use to conquer the world. this means he lost the PhP600 bet he made and i hope he used it to buy his 2 adorable daughters some books, popcorn and a couple of ice cream cones. if he still hasn't, that means he now has to do it for 3 kids.

(2) despite the fact that i got him a The Rock shirt back when there was still a WWF (not the panda-saving treehuggers), he still doesn't have Rock-like chutzpah to say this to my face. especially after i tossed him out of the ring, smashing the announcers' table when he landed.

(3) my comics are not crap, as he has begrudingly learned through the years. and he won't admit it, but he wants to kill me for my collection, because i'm just feeding him crumbs. as you can see from the note, he barely repressed himself admitting that he peed in his pants when he finished Danger Girl.


To more conspiracy-theorizing, beer-swilling, trash-talking, hell-raising, them-fighting ...

here's to another 88 years, jabroni.