This Blog is an outlet for the random thoughts of an amateur opinionator.
What's an opinionator?
An opinionator is somebody who has power without responsibility, and the ability to spout off on any subject without worrying too much about the consequences of what comes out of the mouth. All you need is an opinion and the opportunity to voice it.
TV is full of professional opinionators. The internet gives the amateur his chance.
> geT ouT of my waY
Author: aLmich
I go to gym. I do cardio exercises. I trek, I roam around in my dopie, I walk and even walks the walk of life.
I have nothing against walking, the sun, and walking under the sun. It’s something I actually enjoy doing provided the right circumstances, the right setting, the right people and provided that I won’t have to do it on a regular basis [and with my lifestyle— I don’t]. But walking under the sun, IN THE CITY, in LONG SLEEVED POLO after a nine-hour shift at work just irritates the shittles out of me — especially when it could’ve been easily avoided if only the people around me weren’t such idiots.
[On my way home yesterday, I took the bus because I feel so tired to just thinking of MRT stairs. A woman got on the bus somewhere in the Crossing area and sat next to me — no, squeezed her sticky self next to me, even though we were occupying a three-seater. We were to get off at the same place: Boni, and it was CRUCIAL for us to get off right there because the bus was taking the fast lane and the next stop would offset me by [I'm guessing] more than a hundred meters.
We were seated near the back of the bus and she took her time to get up and move when the bus was ALREADY AT OUR STOP. I had already stood up and was nudging her slightly [she was in my way]— a signal that she should hurry her ass down the exit because unlike her, I have to be somewhere. She didn’t. And so we I miss my stop and am inconvenienced. [*Unnecessary anger]
Walking through EDSA isn’t my number one most hated thing in the world [that honor belongs to gaining weight] but it comes in pretty close. It’s a scorching Tuesday afternoon and the diseased masses of Boni move as if they were going for a Sunday stroll in the park, seemingly unbothered by the vehicular fumes. Sometimes, they’re also unmindful of other people and act as if they own the fucking city and block the way. Oh look, stairs, perfect!; let me stop RIGHTHERE and send someone a message on my phone. Who the hell cares if I’m a goddamn obstruction— I don’t.
You know what else I hate? Groups of people who stand around by the entrance or the exit and discuss where to go next or whatever. MOVE TO THE GODDAMN SIDE AND LET PEOPLE THROUGH.
