Weekstartrants.

Eating out after hearing mass has been the usual routine every Sunday, but now that my brother and I aren't babies anymore, and there's no more Jolly Spaghetti hovering our tastebuds, eating out has now become a weekly debate for my family. The battle of what's in the fridge vs. a 20/30 dollar ticket to a decent breakfast. This Sunday was no different. We already ran out of sausage patties and hashbrows, and I was too lazy to prepare anything, and besides, I was dripping saliva over this breakfast burito from Sonic (my favorite fastfood, as you know) for the longest time. But since it's the end of the month (no cash and useless plastics), we had to look for somewhere else cheaper (if Sonic wasn't cheap enough). Then cruised Krispy Kreme. I love it there, got the best doughnuts in the world, but sometimes when you've had too much of it, especially for breakfast, it doesn't feel indulgent anymore. But hey, I haven't had it for months, I was freakin' starved and it's Sunday - which Papa God approved to put a red light to whatever we're doing, and I guess my controlled-eating-habit is no exception to that - so I gave in. I walked in to the heavenly aroma of coffee and caramel, snatched my freebie, and told the lady that I'm going to take a couple of dozens. I was ready to pick whichwhich, when these creepy yet enticing pumpkin-faced doughnuts immediately invaded my sight and were loudly singing to me in chorus. I just had to get it!!! Ugh, thank God it's Sunday! :)) And since Krispy Kreme is kinda cheap, I was thinking of working it on Trick-or-Treaters, but unfortunately, I already have candies, lollipops and chocolates in a basket waiting for them, and doughnuts will only add more damage to their choppers. Too bad, but the last thing I want for Halloween is some mother kicking my front door because her kid received monster sweet treats from a fat lady. Uh-uh, not happening.

My cute little niece, Hailey, celebrated her first birthday this weekend (today's her actual birthday). This is just one of those many occasions when you can only wish that Texas to California is as convenient as a 4-peso jeepney ride from Cainta to Cubao. Seriously! I can't believe I'm missing out on Hanny's whole motherhood thing. The last time I saw her, she was still single, and that was just a couple of years ago. Yeah, and now I'm already a bonafide auntie-ninang. Ha, look how rapid the freakin' calendar flips. And I still don't have a new boyfriend!!! Well, not that I wanted a baby too, but I think she's enjoying life so much more than I am. Anyway, three more weeks til I get to snuggle them. Super kakagigil. :p

I just got John Mayer's new album. LOVE IT. LOVE IT. LOVE IT. Vultures has got to be my favorite cut. Well, it's collectively good stuff - amazing lyrics, the falsetto is exceedingly sexy, and the guitars in there are just INSANE!!! Imagining his orgasmic guitar face while repeatedly listening to it kinda helps too, hahaha. It's really good. Go get it!

That's it for me this October. How time flies so fast, man. I remember back in the Philippines, around this time, my friends and I would spend a Saturday night altogether watching the yearly spooky episode of Magandang Gabi Bayan with a big bowl of yakisoba, then off we go to various parties ala Lindsay Lohan. Hayy, it just never gets boring back home. Oh well. If ever this house becomes a pitstop for trick-or-treaters, I promise to bring some pictures. I just hope I don't scare them and think that I'll auction them off eBay, haha. Advance Happy Halloween!

Sinwagon

It's been three years, but I've never paid a handful amount of attention to this certain controversy up until the trio showed up on my tv again on a Wednesday's Oprah. I don't dislike them. I happen to love some of their songs, but that's just how far it goes. I never said I was a country music fan to begin with, but nevertheless, these women's tenacious and rightful bluntness towards their nation's erroneous happenings were something noteworthy. In fact, I think Natalie kicked so much ass for basically saying that President Bush, with all due respect, is-was-always-will-be a piece of shit. It's really not that hard to say, but with the backlash that parked her frontdoor... Man, ow, man. Seemed like speech's vested freedom never existed.

For those of you who are still clueless about what I'm yabbering about, I'm talking about the Dixie Chicks. A grammy-winning bluegrass trio who apparently spoke disrespectfully of this country's president. Quote-unquote, "Just so you know, we're ashamed the President of the United States is from Texas". Burn!!! Fifteen words that immediately leaped half of this shallow country in an idiosyncratic sphere, with a repercussion that was beyond nightmare. Album sales dropped, poor concert ticket sales, avid supporters devotedly boycotted them, and even obscene death threats conquered their living-the-dream superstar status.


To despise them is one thing, but to insensately damage their characters - permanently and without limits, just for the partially irrational reason that they said it on foreign soil - is purely overreacting. I may understand that it was too unorthodox for politically conservative Southerners to hear three open-minded girls speak their minds like they did, especially in regards of their country's misguidance. But to smother them with verbal destruction and traitor-treatment ENDLESSLY is just too bestial for bearing. I can't even imagine how they've managed to go on with their lives despite the unfathomable jungle they trapped themselves into. Gee. I must've nailed my liver with a butcher knife or something. And although I may agree that as public figures, and role models, they might have acted otherwise unpleasantly, their compatriots still automatically discounted that these women are in fact human too, with a prerogative to say what their smarts urge them to express.

So what if their combative opinions were uttered on foreign soil? It's not like they purposely blasted Bush in UK, a country by the way that even helps the US in jeopardy. And it's oceans apart from Iraq, I'm pretty sure they knew the difference. So was that reasoning suppose to add more fuel to the fire? Pfft. Nevermind. Makes me think about how much Filipinos in this country execrate the dirty politics back in the Philippines, and how brazen we are in belittling (no pun intended) the president. Do you think that even if we forever bag on her flaws as a leader, here in a foreign country no less, we'll ever be cussed as traitors? I never thought so.

And that's the harsh reality of being in the public eye. You're instantly robbed of the power to utilize the freedom that was given to mankind to think open-mindedly and be considerably outspoken. Unfortunately for the Dixie Chicks, they had to suffer the humiliating behaviour besetting their individualities and had to be sidelined for what seemed to be the longest three years of their lives. But what the hell! They're BACK!!! And still not ready to make fuckin' nice.

Being "dysfunctional"

For me, the term 'dysfunctional' is nothing but itself. It's only a word that's often used to describe inexplicably difficult families or those of which you normally see readily bicker over unworthy stuff right on the sacred dinner table. But tell me, aren't all families like that? Not in my 2 decades of existence have I seen a family so perfect. Even our neighbors back in Manila, who I initially thought exhibited such harmony within them, would be heard cursing at each other in Ilocano from time to time. Even my family isn't all that unruffled. Trust me, this house transforms into an African jungle in no time during a wild bitchfest. But eventhough fights like that truly exist, I just can't help but find it oddly cute and funny how family can patch things up quite so easily, even without apologies exchanged. I mean, it's not that easy to be making peace with friends, right? But how come with family it comes organically effortless?

Then insert this movie appealingly titled, Little Miss Sunshine. It has been in my movie queue for the longest time, and at last, I was granted time and a free ticket to see it yesterday. Minus the fact that I'm a big Steve Carell fan, I was more intrigued by the plot's dark yet delightful comedy about the Hoover family and their misfortuned roadtrip to this certain beauty pageant, the titular subject. Olive (Abigail Breslin), an average girl from Albuquerque, has been wanting to enter the said contest for years, and when finally given the chance, her family of misfits decides to accompany her via a cross-country adventure to California, needless to say, with innumerable mishappenings. With her are her father Richard (Greg Kinnear), an unsuccessful motivational speaker who disgusts losers, her heroin-snorting and pageant-coach Grandpa (Alan Arkin), her gay Uncle (Steve Carell) who recently committed suicide, her non-speaking brother Dwayne (Paul Dano) who took a vow of silence before entering flight school, and her mother Sheryl (Toni Collette), who cares about family above anything else. In a rusty aged van which works as flawlessly as their relationships, the trip was anything but pretty as they'd hoped for. But along the way -- although petty fights, and unexpected events have taken place -- they found a way to unite as a family and resolve things, sometimes, without even saying a word.

What I like most about this movie is that it's enjoyably moving without being theatrically dramatic. It will dab your emotions quite strongly but not in the sense that it'd make you cry. If anything, the film's surprisingly undisguised humor is what would definitely drive you to tears in laughter. Acting is equally amazing. I don't think there's a better collected cast than this. Overall, this feature simply exudes everything a moviegoer wants in a satisfying bargain - a clear and unpretentious story-telling and acting without being over the top. I can honestly say that this one's just perfect for my tastebuds. Let alone that it stars one of my favorite actors, and that it conveys a story that's very easy to relate to and a reality check that's comforting to admit.

Literally, the word 'dysfunctional' refers to a subject that can never function, or a frequent failure of its purpose. But to me, the word's use has obviously now morphed into a new synonym of 'normal' whenever pertains to family. I don't want to believe that family can forever be tainted with faults, fury, hatred, and anything else negative. Instead, I embrace family -- although unmanageable at times -- as the only one I have in the world, through prosperous and unhealthy times of life. Therefore, upon seeing this movie, it only reaffirmed one thing. And that's the fact that being a member of a so-called dysfunctional family is actually indeed normal.

I just got bang'd!

I know, couldn't have gotten a worse title than that. But look who's sporting a new do. I finally feel like a woman who cares how she looks like. And I effin' like it! But you know me, I was all that contented with how my hair was done on a daily basis, so I still had to literally streetfight with my mom before she got me to this urgent and totally nonessential haircut. We only went out to apply for a state ID replacement, and the next think I know, I'm already in the queue of makeovers. I was pissed! She knew I was rushing home to catch a tennis match, but she still insisted. Mahirap magpalaki ng magulang, so I just had to say yes, even after embarrassingly telling the hairdresser that I have to look good when I go to California to see movie stars. Trust me, that's not really my purpose. I ended up apologizing and thanking her anyway, because I think I look better now that the ponytail days are over. And the new bangs!!! Haha. Very Tina Paner.

I still made it to Rafa's quarterfinals match (this was last Friday, btw). I wasn't exactly pleased with the end result, nor by his opponent's celebratory arrogance. But it was entirely entertaining, to say the least. Perhaps it was Becks' absence that caused Rafa's uninspired tennis (the bromance, you know? lol), or maybe because Sergio let his Jennifer-Aniston-hair down that it easily became a distraction. Or it could be me. You know what, I think I jinxed him. Haha. You see, everytime I mention him in this blog, in the middle of a tourney, he always chokes. I think it happened 3 times now, in a row. Plausible, right? Maybe if I mention Federer, he could lose too? Just kidding.

So to compensate my frustration with Nadal's recurrent crappy tennis, ATP provided me with this photo of (L-R) Iker, Raul, Rafa, Sergio (thanks for the beanie), and Becks. ATP, you're awesome but nobody's worth of this collective Eurohotness. It's just too much!!! Ok, enough of the fangirl squee-ing. I just got a new do, so I now have to act accordingly.


Bakit kayo nagsisiksikan sa Madrid? Maluwag dito!
Onto other stories...

In less than a month's time, I'll be somewhere else, window shopping, strolling the strip, and endlessly chatting with an aunt whom I've not seen for the past 15 years. My memories of her though stayed clear over time, and our communication never waned, so hopefully I won't have problems being comfortable with and around her when I get there. After all, she's the same person who convinced me repeatedly that I'm a girl, not the kind who's socially allowed to collect matchboxes. And she even wanted me to be Little Ms. Philippines. I could have given Aiza Seguerra a run for her money, but I rejected the offer. Hahaha. We got our tickets yesterday, and looks like it'll be an 11-day escapade. Finally! A real vacation. Wardrobe for travel would be quite something to think about though, since weather here and there are as dissimilar as their timezones. The hours of our departure and arrival don't help either. Imagine, I woke up to 37°F this morning, without the heater and waterheater on. Man, this isn't normal. It feels like I'm in Colorado or something. Not even funny, and it's only October! But I know that coldfront there isn't as bad as this place's, and I'm sure they always have the heaters on whenever necessary, unlike here where they want to conserve energy as much as weather's still tolerable. Whatever.

On another very random note... I weighed in last night before going to bed, and it said that I lost 6 pounds from my last weigh-in. Of course I was instantly in cloud 9. My no-rice campaign is slowly paying off. Then when I woke up, guess what, I gained a couple of them damn pounds back. Huh?!! I only slept for about 6-7 hours and I got fatter. This is what we normally call a "what the fuck" moment. Seriously, that's just a pretty bemusing way to start my week off.

Randomgasms.

I know I have nurses, physicians, whathaveyous, reading this blog, so just one query. Is there something wrong with emptying your bladder once, twice or more within an hour? I was couch-potato-ing this afternoon, enjoying a Rafael Nadal match when I subconsciously would run for my life to the bathroom every now and then. I never sat on something hot as what would normally cause a balisawsaw, nor have I been drinking too much water. It's kinda weird. Not that it's hurting or something. Just bothers me a little bit.

Look who's watching! Maybe this caused my pee problems? Ugh! Rafa + BECKS = suicidal hotness.



Anyway. I ONCE AGAIN changed my template. I've been trying to make one that I won't get tired of looking at, and I sure hope this is it. As Tani have said, I seem to be making my blog over and over again. And I know it sort of annoys some of you already. Trust me, I sincerely wish to stop right here. At least for the next couple of months. :p

Project Runway season 3 concluded last night. It was nice to see the collections completely, and I must say that Uli's set was just...ugh, PERFECTION! I'm so glad she didn't use prints in all 12 pieces, but man, that was some mad skills! I won't take back whatever I said about Jeffrey though. I didn't think he had the best collection out there, nor did I ever consider him to be the best out of the final four, but being ambitious takes you to new heights, hence his victory. I'll say I'm a bit upset, not that I didn't expect it, but it could have ended in a better fashion.

Don't worry Uli, if I ever (God willing) get my shape back, I will definitely hunt you down. It will take a while, but you can absolutely count on that. Here are my favorite pieces from your drop dead gorgeous collection. I still feel bad because you should have won, you clearly were the best, and YOU DIDN'T GO OVER BUDGET. But hey, I'll soon get over it. It's only reality TV!



And onto more random stuff...

My mom had a strange dream. She was like, "nanaginip ako, ang payat mo na daw!". I could only laugh my ass off, while of course, kind of wishing at the back of my head that it comes true. I was told though that when you talk about what you dreamt of, it won't happen in reality ever. Man, aren't dreams suppose to come true anyhow? I don't wanna be fat for the rest of my life! :))

It's been really cold lately, and rumor has it that it might snow this year. I looooove snow, because it makes me feel like I'm in America, not Mexico. OK, that's a joke, before you go bonkers on me. So weather this year has been pretty much similar to what it was a couple of years ago. VERY hot summer, but equally freezing fall-winter. And it snowed that time! But snow tends to be a little unfriendly though, especially when you're driving. I remember one time actually seeing a couple of cars clash into each other by the corner stoplight, exactly how it is in funpark bumpcars. Yikes! Regardless of that, I still hope to experience it again. I never had my picture taken on it, so I'm still waiting for that second chance. Let is snow!!! Too early to ask for snow, or as if this state is prone to that kind of weather. Pfft.

I needed to be random after that "Maalala Mo Kaya"-ish post. Back to my old jubilant self, and enough of the dramachoos. I'll be visiting your blogs after posting this, then I'll head to bed, for I'll continue drooling over Rafa's hotness tomorrow. Hahaha. Have a gradioso weekend, my friends!

Mi Mama Drama

I was 3 years of age when I saw a random woman canoodling with my dad. I sat in a corner, screamed repeatedly at the top of my lungs, and interminably bawled my eyes out. Little did I know that this random person was no less than my own mother. She came to me with tears uncontrollably plastering her cheeks, desperately convincing me that she was her. I think I believed her, but that's all I could dig in my memory. I can't remember anything afterso.

My mom left me when I was 1. She decided to work in the middle east contrary to their plans of moving here in the states in the mid-80s. Earlier on, I didn't understand why would she pick a place completely unfamiliar to her, let alone without her husband and her newborn by her side, whereas she had an open ticket to the west side where her college friends and some relatives reside. I never knew why, not that I asked, but whatever her reason was, it only brought the family good things. But I guess, myself excluded.

She gave us everything...clothes, money, gadgets, and her presence. But still, I found a way to make her feel that she was a worthless mother. I started going out when I was 15, going home late even at school nights, hanging out until the wee hours of the morning during weekends, sleepovers left and right, party, disco, smoke, booze, all but illegal drugs. It went on for about 3 years, until I was kicked out of high school. It was one incident that could only wake me up, and at the same time, successfully target my goal...her misery. My mom came home that March in hopes of seeing me graduate, but on our ride home from the airport, of all places, I knew I just had to let her know. "Ma, hindi ako ga-graduate", her reaction was plainly heartbreaking. She didn't yell at me, never cursed, but looked devastatingly flabbergasted. I cried upon entering my room that night, although I never planned or wished to, but the inevitable realizition hit me hard in the head. Rebellion wasn't the perfect way to let her feel what I wanted her to feel. I could have been more respectful of who she really is in my life, and what she does for me. But I didn't.

Now, when we occasionally discuss it, she can't help but plague herself with guilt, which is painfully unjust and depressively unbearable for me. I know I'm responsible for making her feel that way, but it was all my fault. For all I know, she was wiping indian-food-smelling asses of baby Arabs just so she could bring us the best of life. And I only put it all to waste. I felt sorry, I was and still am sorry, but I had no idea how to make it up to her. In my quietest ways though, I managed to quit smoking, abandon party-ing, and continue on with school. For her and myself, I've grown to be a better woman, and a completely different person. With all the mishappenings in my life, and the lessons it hauled, and eventhough it doesn't sound right, I have her to thank for everything. She might have been away most of my time, but that wasn't cessation enough for her not to become the best mother she could possibly be for me and my brother. And for that, I'm forever sorry that I brought her tears over time, and that she wasn't blessed with the perfect daughter she dreamed to have. But hey, God is awesome. We're together now, happy as can be, and I just can't wait to spend the rest of my life with her.


Happy Birthday, Mama!

The Departed

They only went to grocery shop while I was menacingly dusting off my rifle in anxiety, thinking all along that they left me to watch The Departed. So I hold myself responsible for tainting my dad's and brother's wondrous image, lol. We were supposed to see the movie either Wednesday or Thursday, but things didn't go as planned. But luckily for us, my dad cut off worktime just so we could finally see it. See, got the best father in the world, hehe.

Action movies though don't attract me instantaneously, especially when the trailer only provides one-note brutality instead of variety. But once I'm at it, I'd always find myself cracking my knuckles brought by its intensity as well as laughing bersekly at the feature's sadistic humor. Just like with Pulp Fiction, Kill Bill, these movies which weren't even a part of my movie queue before but grew to be classic favorites the minute I laid my comprehension on it. The Departed, on the other hand, intrigued me not because of its premise rather by its ensemble gorgeousness cast, not to mention, Martin Scorsese's directorial juices. And so, to be in an interested disposition, I placed myself a row below where my dad and brother were seated, so I could feast on the actors' collective hotness, and at the same time thoroughly absorb every ounce of story being told. I actually had the row to myself until a couple of blondies seated by my far left. Not that I was very displeased, but they were a little misbehaved, eating their chips like a starving homeless dude would, and they'd flippantly squee everytime a hunk's on screen. Nevertheless, I wouldn't let them be a significant hindrance to my most awaited viewing pleasure.

Story centers on a couple of South Boston natives, William "Billy" Costigan (Leonardo DiCaprio) and Colin Sullivan (Matt Damon) who both are serving as spies (or 'rats' as what they're being dubbed as) to the Massachusetts State Police Department and to the demonic Irish mafia chief Frank Costello (the brilliant Jack Nicholson), respectively. Sullivan who grew up with the mobster was tossed to the police academy to eventually be in the elite group of officers who are in the mission of pursuing the mafia, particularly his 'dad'. Meanwhile, Costigan, who was a police academy dropout, and also who has real family ties with Costello, was assigned by Oliver Queenan (Martin Sheen) and his hot-headed deputy, Dignam (Mark Wahlberg) to infiltrate the Irish gang. As the two rats' double lives were completely filtered by lies, brutality, and strenuous eagle-eye-ing, both of their camps concurrently figured that they have spies within their teams. And in such an event, both Sullivan and Costigan were appointed to find their own rats in opposing sides.

It's quite a trick though, like both leads were counter-casted, because prior to watching this movie, I expected Matt to be playing the innocent good guy while Leo as the grungy and arrogant one. But unsurprisingly, both executed their characters, Matt as the slick dickwad and Leo as the sacrificial lamb, almost perfectly. These two might have stolen the whole feature with their acting prowess, but Jack Nicholson's effortless satanic expressions as well as Mark Wahlberg's solid jerkbag performance are definitely worth the mention. With that said, I believe that this without a doubt is one of the best films this year. Second best in my book. If you enjoyed films like Pulp Fiction or Goodfellas (a Scorsese classic I have yet to see), then you will most likely want to see this one. It will certainly grind your knee joints in suspense, and potentially crack you up with its comedic panache.

Worst Wednesday '06

Perhaps in Boracay, it's about 95°F, fairly sunny and breezy at the same time, with maybe a couple of bikini-clad college bombshells toasting glasses filled with mango margarita. Sounds fun, should be fun. But weather here, as you may know, is already changing up. Scorching and irritating hot days are finally over. And I can't be happier. But waking up at 7:15am when you've only had 4 hours of sleep is no joke, especially when you feel like it's snowing outside when it's remotely not.

So anyway, instead of resuming my suspended dream, I hurriedly got up when I heard my dad getting ready to go to Dallas to pick up my mom, and told him to wait for me, I'll only get a jacket, and I'll go with him. He laughed because he knew what caused the panic. It was this freakin' fat ghost I saw in the kitchen at 12:30am last night which naturally freaked me out. Ok, you might think I'm totally hallucinating because of the ghost stories I've been hearing lately, but I know I saw something in there. I was prepping to go upstairs when I overlooked the kitchen and boom, there it was. Seeing a ghost is scary enough, but imagine how scarier it was to see one without a head! Jesus. And I'm not making this up, it really had no head!!! And so I calmly walked for my dear life towards my dad who was already lying in bed downstairs and yelled for my brother to come down. Told them both what I saw, and expectedly, they poked fun at me. Whatever. I really saw something, and boy I wish that this effin' ghost makes a surprise appearance right infront of their eyes so I could laugh at them too. Hysterically, no less.

Upon coming out the door, I immediately ran into the car because of the freezing weather, and unsure of what exactly the temperature was, my dad was counting down the thermometer inside the car. It started with 70°F inside the garage, and quickly changed to 65°F in the driveway. We were like idiots counting the temp down, haha, 63, 62, 61, 60!!! My dad's child-like reaction to the coldfront was priceless, haha, as if he doesn't experience this every year. And it didn't stop there! The countdown went on and stopped right at 56°F. Damn, it was cold. And with my dad's enthusiasm over the cold weather (babaw, ano?), he refused to turn on the heater and even opened his window. And mind you, he was only wearing a T-SHIRT! I was just like, Papa, I know you're loving this, but your daughter's right here. Shaking!!!

On our way home was a different story. My mom, who HATES fall and winter unhesitatingly stopped my dad's enjoyment of the weather and asked him to shut his window and turn the heater on. Majority wins!!! My dad was pissed. Hahaha! I also told my mom about the ghost, and THANK GOD, she believed me! Of course at first she was like, guni-guni mo lang yun, but when I told her exactly what I did when I saw it (I actually stared at it longer than I should have), she got the idea that I wasn't lying at all. She was even more terrified than I was coming into the kitchen this morning, haha, finally, somebody who believed I see dead people.

And so I went straight back to bed after some couple of minutes accomodating my mother, and when I woke up it's already 12:30 in the afternoon and it was uncomfortably quiet. Normally, I'd wake up to the sounds of my radio, but since I slept in the computer room, I heard nothing but passing cars. Looked at the garage, durango is gone. SHIT! Papa and my brother already left to see The Departed without me. WITHOUT ME!!! Leo, Matt, Mark??? My long awaited dream of testosterone-overload is officially gonzo! It can't get any worse than this. I wanna die!!!

Football Wives

In a state like Texas, a divorcing couple due to football overdose (no pun intended) is relatively normal. Makes me imagine how many of them already consulted a lawyer this past weekend, which considerably is the craziest football weekend of every year. There's the annual state fair cottonbowl event and Sunday football to be all orgasmic about. These men are nuts! But hey, leaving them isn't the only solution. Right?

Divorce is a diabolic term to my ears, hence my fear in marriage. I kinda fear it just as much as I fear snakes. Seriously. It's not a walk in the park, that's a given, but why does divorce seem as easy as that? Not to mention when it's supposed to be "sacred", unless you're allah-uhakbar-ing or something. I mean, it's even written in the bible for crying out loud... "whoever divorces his wife and marries again commits adultery, and whoever marries her who has been divorced also commits adultery". Gee, who knew St. Mark wrote about this absurdity. Shame on mankind!!!

I'm not a football fan myself, but if I ever, God forbid, get married to an enthusiast of this certain sport, and if and when it gets a little too out of hand, I still won't divorce him. Um...yes. At least I'll try not to. I don't think resting in the devil's armpit every football day would be too much for bearing. I mean, it's only existent for four months in a year anyway (I allow to be corrected), so why be all cranky about that? Or better yet, I''ll ask him to buy me Football for Dummies so we can both stupefy ourselves over some hugging bouncers. But kidding aside, I know it's not gonna be easy, but don't they think that they bicker over a piece of shit? I mean, my mom gave my dad a hard beating because of his mistress. That's a bigger deal, you know? Ok, I totally made that up. But seriously. All these couples just need to compromise. It's not like Jessica divorced Nick only because he was wetting over USC's quarterback. Duh?

Point is, there's always solution to all problems, and a simple signature over divorce papers isn't one of them. Yeah, yeah, what do I know, right? I'm only a young-in with a struggling love life. But you know what, it doesn't take you to be 25, 30, 40 to actually embrace the real meaning of marriage and to know what it should be in one's life. It's just like a football game. When somebody tackles you, you get up, run, and never give up. Touchdown, beeyotch!

Bedroom fixed but couldn't sleep in it.

Since I realized that my daily routine is pretty much of a fat ass' (well, I am a fat ass, but trust me, I'm working on it), I got out of bed yesterday morning, went straight to shower despite the disfunctional heater, ate breakfast, and fixed my room. My mother bought me a new dresser (a smaller, but cuter one I should say) that came with a nightstand, and it's adorable so it's motivation enough for me to finally clean up. My room is normally messy, yes, very pig-like, very me. I wake up, toss the comforter to my right, get out of bed, go to the bathroom and downstairs I go. It would stay that way until I get into bed again, toss the comforter over me, and put my eyelids to rest. I know, I should have been a guy, right? But that's about to change. Hopefully.

As I've said, I suddenly had the urge to be girly, and fix my room with these new fancy furnitures, and so I spent nearly 3 hours getting everything done. Actually, not everything I did in 3 hours were associated with the cleaning, but I danced every once in a while. Hahaha, I'm not really a dancer, but with the radio on, and some SexyBack is uninvitedly accompanying you, you gotta get jiggy with it. So I did, hahaha. Back to the room. Got you some photos, which unfortunately aren't enough justification of my hardwork. And to remind you, I'm no Ty Pennington, so that's the best I could do. As you can see, I've got no television whatsoever, I pretty much live in a maid's quarter type of haven. Haha, just kidding. But you can't blame me if I feel bad, the kitchen has a television, with cable no less, yet I don't? Regardless, I like my room, it doesn't have an ocean-view or anything but I think it's pretty nice. And oh, that little red bench right there is actually a place for my shoes and purses, but since my dad is fixing the heater via my closet (which sounds weird, I know) he tossed it out of it, which gave me the idea of making it an accent. It's a pretty fragile bench though, only winnie the pooh can afford to rest its ass on there, hehe. And since you know I'm not a girly-girl, and the room is unbelievably yellow, I feel like I need to explain. Before we moved here, that room was occupied by a baby, and I suck for not devoting enough time to actually change the color to something suitably better.

And so, the room is now all sassy and done. But when my Aunt called last night from Bicol, she had some ghost stories in tow, which I didn't appreciate at all. Ghosts that are apparently of my dear grandparents, but eventhough I love them so much, they should know that I would be with them in a snap if they show up. If I'm scared of anything, besides being an old maid, it's gotta be those paranormal stuff. Hell, even Criss Angel freaks me out! Let alone ghosts. Resultantly, I pestered my parents into sleeping in their own bedroom. After doing the late night bathroom habit, I hurriedly made my way into the king sized bed and acted like a 5 year old nagging her parents to let her sleep in the middle of them. Can you imagine a fat adult doing that? Only in this four walled cell, baby. Not that I'm proud of that! But hey, I didn't sleep literally in between them so gimme a break. I don't think we'd fit anyway, haha. But my dad dutifully gave his spot to me and lied next to me on the floor. Aww, there's the best father in the world! And since my mother's at work for the next few nights, I think I'll find that beautiful bed unscathed, and this 5 year old will once again bother her ever nice dad. You think I like it? Not at all. So hopefully when I come back, my brave spirits are too.

Love Handles

Time and time again, I'd attempt to crash my eating habits in hopes of finally getting that shape I once had. But everytime I feel like I'm already on it, I'd crave so much harder that I'd always find myself pigging out before I can even lose half a pound. If I may be addicted to something, it's gotta be food, and I can't fuckin' quit it.

Death, as scary as it sounds, seems to be not enough threat to me, hence the urge of digging for that one motivation that can genuinely discipline this pighead. As you know, I'm of legal age, not the partying teenager anymore, and basically growing older rather rapidly. I hate it. But I got too scared of the thought that I might end up an old maid. No husband, no kids, no romance at all. And that frightens the heck out of me.

After hearing mass last Sunday, family had dinner at one of my favorite fastfoods, Sonic. I believe not everyone's familiar with this, but Sonic is this place where you just park your car, order from there, you pay, they'll bring the food to you, and you eat right then and there. They even have a trash bin before you leave the parking/eating lot. It's one of my favorites because it simply brings you the best services, you only talk and eat, no need to even get up, haha. See? That's exactly why I weigh this big, my lazy ass and my football appetite. Therefore, I gotta give it up.

And so. I vow to keep my piehole controlled. I'm not gonna diet slash starve, 'cause it always never works. Instead, I'll refrain myself from touching foods that please my tongue the best, and that can be a stepping stone for a healthier lifestyle. And for a new boyfriend, hahaha.