I want to be made!

Quote (not exact) from the MTV show Made, episode Girly Girl.

Cosmo coach gives boyish girl her task for the day...
Boyish girl: Oh fuck!
Cosmo coach: Oh my God! You just didn't curse.
Boyish girl: What, it's just an expression!
Cosmo coach: You can always say fudge!

Fudge? What the fudge? Err, doesn't sound good... Aside from being a professional athlete, another half of my biggest frustration is to actually be a girly girl. For reals. Well, I do make-up, yes. I try. But I can only sigh whenever I see young pretty girls walk by me with such a posture, a demure aura that can easily turn heads. Not that I'm aiming for that kind of charisma, but I just want to be a girly girl even in the littlest way possible... emotionally, physically, and ethically.

Today, going to church, I once again attempted a style. I wore this pink blouse that had been stuck in my closet for the past couple of years, matched it with a pair of black slacks, some pearl earrings with necklace to make me look expensive, and a pair of one-inched heeled sandals. For the first time in a long time, I felt like a lady. A grown up one at that. But not even half way through the mass, my feet were already itching due to the edge of them damn sandals. I swore not to wear them ever again. I'm pathetic.

Not only do I poorly execute femininity in the way I present myself physically, but as well as how I control my emotions and the way I act around people. Honestly, my piehole is almost unfiltered. In a house centered by democracy, I have the power to blurt out what I feel is needed to be said. Derogatoriness may be inevitable. Well, it is. So I can totally relate to the quoted above. A friend of mine once asked me, "what do you get from cussing everytime you feel like crap?" I replied, "it's my own little way of venting, unless you wanted me to charge you". See? I am far from being the girly girl I want me to be.

I don't think I'm at a worst-case-scenario (yet). I'm wearing boho skirts, so I think that's at least, a girly thing. This is tough though. I have now to start controlling my eating habits in the Chinese buffet, walk like a shiny plastic, and talk like I'm from Laguna Beach. Fuck, that's suicide! I think this takes serious rehabilitation.

Once was a weird kid.

I was supposed to snag Laureen's survey and do it myself, but something came up, and it's this one weird habit I used to have as a kid. We all love Jolly Spaghetti, right? But I can clearly remember that I used to pluck each ground piece of meat, only retaining the fat hotdogs, just so I can eat it indulgently. Weird, right? And mind you, I even used to call them buto, hahaha.

And the other weirder habits started to hover my memory.

I was immensely frightened by mascots. Like, seriously, whenever I was at another kid's birthday party, I would segregate myselft in avoidance of the freakin' creature. I think the fear was generated by this 90s film which starred the cute Gutierrez twins that had a giant that injured the masses. The phobia vamoosed when this mascot from Max's Restaurant pursuadedly hugged and carried me on my 5th birthday. They were really nice, after all. Haha, and yes, it took me quite a while to figure out that they're human too. Weird!

Then there was my fear of firecrackers. My parents would always have a difficult time celebrating New Year's eve because I would cuddle up to either shoulder each time I hear a boomerang. I would cry like a newborn and gradually sabotage the celebration via my toddler-ish tantrums. I can't exactly remember when the fear waned, but I'm glad it did. Not that I enjoy firecrackers already, they're still cancer to my ears each holiday, but it'd just be weird to not party during the time, right? I enjoy fireworks though. They're beautiful. Anyway...

Now that I'm all grown up, I can't pin-point a weird habit that I presently have. Maybe one thing, I crack my knuckles and cough like I contain severe tuberculosis each time I get butterflies in my stomach. That's very manly, eeks. Have a great weekend, everyone!

Coach can't pray?

It attacked our attention much like a blowing thunder rather than an eerie storm. But just as I was mildly upset about it, I was also quite bewildered by what was my struggling comprehension of the other side's assertion.

This issue that was debated on Quite Frankly last night, that at one point bulged my nerves, was about a New Jersey high school football coach's restriction of engaging himself in prayer with his team. Coach was threatened by the high school that in the event he doesn't stop cooperating in prayers with the team, he will get fired. As one who was part of the administration for 23 years, he took the initiative to distance himself from the kids during the solemn part of their regimen, and eventually resign from his beloved job because of too much predomination on the school's part.

Initially, I wondered whatever is wrong with that, but upon hearing the four sides of the argument, it somehow paved the way for an assumption. As the heated discussion went on, I learned that the other ones in the panel are bothered by this (solely) because they feel that Coach is the one inducting the prayers, in the sense that it becomes a provocation for the students to follow his lead, and completely disregard their right to freedom of religion. I don't blame them, it should be one of the many natural hypostheses. But jumping into conclusions and immediately judging the person is a different story.

It was stated beforehand, that this activity was never dictated by the alleged. Apparently, it has been clear that the bowing of heads has always been student-led. It was just a matter of choice. The students initiate the prayers, and the coach, who (needless to say) stands as the father of the team, surely feels the need to participate. If other students feel as though that taking the knee is opposed to their beliefs, then I honestly don't think it will even be a problem. As opposed to what the parents' are yakking about, declining will not jeopardize their kids' athletic career. I personally think that this has been extremely blown out of proportion, in which involved a sensitive topic that didn't deserve the controversy it was amidst of.

Japan; Mama; Brian O'Brian

No, never dreamt of becoming a beauty queen, nor am I lesbian. Just averagely fascinated. So, after hearing mass and eating dinner last Sunday, we rapidly headed back home just so we won't miss the cheese-tastic introductory opening number. Japan captured my attention with that anime-ish costume, and boy, was I thrilled to see her make it to the Top 5. Although I partly share the same sentiments as Deb about the whole pageant thing, I still glued my butt on the couch and spent nearly two hours, anticipating our Asian cousin to end up first, especially after hearing that very realistic and logical answer in the Q&As, albeit the interpreter's translating exigency. But my hopes were severely crushed. Seriously people, Puerto Rico...again? That's like their 500th Miss Universe crown! I can't believe it. If the only reason Japan got axed is because she can't speak perfect English, then that's bullshit. Those over-pretty-fied South Americans have twisted tongues too, and still, they reign supreme almost every year. I can only scoff in disbelief. Anyway, Philippines snagged Miss Photogenic, not surprised there *waves mini flag*, and Japan received best costume, a well deserved consolation prize, nevertheless.

On another topic... My mom has an erroneous remembrance of where she places things, most specially her reading glasses, hence she'd always ask, "Be, nakita mo salamin ko?" (have you seen my reading glasses?), which eventually became a little disturbing. I suggested that maybe it's time for her to attach strings to it so she won't misplace it time and time again, or better yet, purchase contact lenses. But she would shrug my ideas off and depend on the fact that her kids can look for her lost stuff every single time. I don't mind, really, but it's just a little bit annoying sometimes, especially when I'm doing something else. So I came up with something. Remember the curse jar? Well, since everyone in this house conveys an unfiltered piehole, I've decided to transform the curse jar to Mama's own punishment. Each time that she asks me or my brother where her glasses are, she would have to cash in a buck. So far, there are about 5 bucks in there, and she still owes a couple more. Thankfully, it's working. It's been days since she asked the same ol' question, hehehe.

Last night, my family enjoyed a series of videos of Rex Navarrete's stand up comedy performance via youtube. I had no idea he was that funny! You gotta see it, it's absolutely worth your time, I promise. Here are the links.

• SBC Packers Skit;
• Filipino Action Figure;
• Star Wars Part 1, Part 2, Part 3;
• Brian O'Brian Skit Part 1, Part 2, Part 3.

The Brian O'Brian one is the most hilarious of all. Trust me, I almost pissed my pants, haha.

Legal and Innocent

Shit happens.

The most responsible person in this house lost the most important documents I possess. My good brother misplaced his wallet, which happens to contain my green card, my ssn and Texas license. How are we supposed to go out now? I never dreamt of being suspected as an illegal alien, please!

It sucked even more that this had to happen on a weekend.

And no, there's more! The worst thing about it was that, I got half of the blame for it which is totally baloney. I know, it's totally uncharacteristic of him to lose something as important as that, fine, let's give him a break. But don't castigate me! I clearly had nothing to do with it. It's been with him for the longest time too. The reason I asked to him carry my stuff to begin with, was that he's the more responsible one out of the two of us, and I cordially admit to that. And who would have thought he would be careless in his lifetime? Hence, my befuddled and alarmed reaction to the incident, much more, to the backfire.

Why do I get some nagging, you ask? Well, because I've long ago ditched carrying a purse with me, which is anything but parenthetically relevant to the primary issue. Makes sense.

The universe tends to unfold as it should. - Tarik

Harold: So what are you in here for?
Tarik: For being black.
Harold: Seriously.
Tarik: I am serious. You wanna know what happened. I was walking out of a Barnes & Noble, and a cop stops me. Evidently, a black guy robbed a store in Newark. I told him, "I haven't even been to Newark in months." So he starts beating me with his gun, telling me to stop resisting arrest.
Harold: Holy shit! What'd you do?
Tarik: I kept saying, "I understand I'm under arrest. Now please stop beating me."
Harold: I don't understand how you can be so calm about all this.
Tarik: Look at me. I'm fat, black, can't dance, and I have two gay fathers. People have been messing with me my whole life. I learned a long time ago there's no sense getting all riled up every time a bunch of idiots give you a hard time. In the end, the universe tends to unfold as it should. Plus I have a really large penis. That keeps me happy.

Don't you just love it when a movie stuffed with lunacy soaked antics can actually be injected with a mild bit of farsightedness in it? I'm presently overhearing the movie and the scene is now about to shift to the prison where this entertaining and eye-opening exchange of dialogues took place.

What about love?

Inspired by both Vayie's latest entry and a recent discussion I overheard from the KiddKraddick In The Morning Show. I will try not to be mushy and cheesy, that would be totally uncharacteristic. Trust me.

It all started with a simple letter written by a listener which tackled her fiancee, who was getting a job in New England, and the life that was then being offered to her by his eventual better half. The guy wanted her to dump her present job, and fly to where he's at so they both could try to embark a new journey together. The girl hesitated, not wanting to leave her moneymaker behind. The following week, she heard a knock on her door only to find out that her fiancee ditched the new career just so he can be by her. She was elated. However, two days later, her boyfriend got into a car accident that put his life in jeopardy. He was awfully injured that he had to get his legs cut. The girl had to take care of her boyfriend, that ensuingly cost her her job as well. The letter ended with her narration of how pitiful it is to watch his fiancee undergo therapy with those metal walkers, and how life would have been so much better had she only followed him to New England. And for the record, they are still together.

Ah. The Power. Of. Love. How can we spell the shit any better.

I'm your average youngster though, so I guess, it's a given that I've never been into a state of being so emotionally involved with a person my opposite sex, not that I have with a girl, haha. Safely, I've never been that in love. I think it would take a lot for me to actually be so attached to a guy, much less, to live with him before being blessed by the sacrament of matrimony. But it somehow fascinates me. In a way that it makes me more curious by the day of how serious true love can really go.

True love, on another way, frightens me. Like in a case of overpowering jealousy. I take Benicio of Sa Piling Mo as a solid example. He gets jealous over the simplest things, and he couldn't find a better way of channelling his outrage other than to be hitting his wife. It's pathetic on the guy's part, and horrifying for the woman's. I know that circumstances such as that inevitably happen in real life, and God knows, I will leave a man that attempts to punchbag me in a blink of an eye. But is that kind of wrath can ever still be considered as a condiment of true love? I don't think it's normal. See, it's all in the confusion bubble. Or have I just been extra indulged with my daily dose of telenovelas?

Eitherway, I do believe in true love. I know, I promised not to be all mushy, but give me a break. This is the first time EVER I'm blogging about the damn topic anyway. Going back... It is a crazy part of life to be involved in, to say the least. But it is also the most fruitful of all things. I can only wish that in the future, I can find a man who will love me and my family whole-heartedly. Apart from the cheesy stuff, a man that has the balls to be the breadwinner of our destined offspring. I may be dreaming, but tell me, there are still guys like that left in the world, right? Fine. I'm being excessively delusional.

I guess I will have to live by the quote/song from 13 going on 30 for the time being.....
No promises. No demands. Love is a battlefield. Gee, now that is cheesy. Haha.

In need of a better digicam.

So, amidst the less-than-hyped system I was trapped in, I still went to see Saturday Night's Main Event with Bo last night. I almost gave that ticket away, and boy, I'm so glad I yielded the persuasion, otherwise, I could've missed a whole damn lot. As many of you know, I'm a big fan of professional wrestling, so if some of you aren't down with that, I advise you to leave. This entry will be filled by what will be a spastic narration, no less.

We arrived at the AAC 15 minutes late of the starting time which was 5:30pm. All along I was questioning as to why it begins at 5:30, when TV guide says that the program starts at 7, and it's supposed to be aired live. Dumbass me didn't realize that it's airing on network television, and for that reason, parts of it were needed to be pre-taped. And so after eating a wondrous whataburger, Papa dropped us off the west entrance, and we readily headed our way to the line, and waited for an estimated 15 minutes under the scorching Dallas heat. Then, we finally settled on our more than satisfying seats at exactly 6:00pm. The view was better than what we could've expected. It just sucked a bit because Paul London had a match and we hardly caught any action. So anyway, I was seated next to my brother, of course, and a black guy to my right who has an uncanny resemblance to Mavs' Erick Dampier. I was a little bit conscious at first because the seats were not as convenient as they're supposed to be, especially for Texans, but as the gentleman I assume he was, he made me feel comfortable with the way I was seated. Needless to say, he also seemed like someone I befriended throughout the show. He was funny.

I was slightly disappointed though, because a lot of the matches, seemed to have been choreographed hastily and lazily (dark matches excluded). I guess, I'm only bitching because my first time was superbly sulit. I paid $60 bucks for a floor seat, and I was supplied with 3 hours of jampacked grappling. Whereas, this $40-dollar treat couldn't compare. BUT, there is one thing that I was witness of last night, that I didn't get the chance to see the previous time. Underfrickintaker! Holyshitness. That was the most surreal thing I have ever seen. As a kid, I would be extremely horrified by his gigantic creature, and those devilish antics, let alone his freakishly chiller music. But he is a phenom, per se, and as a fan that I am, it was the cherry atop the fabulous night that I was having. I have finally seen The Undertaker! I can die now.

Who's my favorite, you ask? Well, right off the bat, I'll tell you it's Triple H and HBK. But I also happen to be a fan of John Cena, who unfortunately faded as a major favorite among the crowd. The best thing about the event though was that I was inserted in a crowd of men who all know their shit, my brother included. Unlike others on the other side who only "boo" people just so they'd get hitched by a certain bandwagon. I take my brother as a perfect example of this point I'm trying to make. In the more than 10 years of his passionate adoration for professional wrestling, he only worships three people. Them being: Triple H, Mick Foley and Ric Flair. Yes, Hulk Hogan doesn't count as his god. Anyway, I knew that he loathed Cena, much like a lot of you do. Hence, my surprised reaction when he applauded him. He clapped, just like all the men around us did. And that minimal applause ingrained my integral respect for my brother and his own share of fanaticism. He's just not another professional wrestling die-hard. He's one of them genuinely smart fans, who give mature ovation whenever it is due.

Speaking of my brother, he was the one taking the pictures and the videos simultaneously. So I credit him for everything we've got. It's just unfortunate though that the images doesn't come close to justifying what we saw, personally. Check them out here and here.

Overall, it was a decent treat. Good show, great seats, best part of the crowd. I had a ball. My mother presently says that the next time WWE comes to town, she won't be paying for the tickets anymore. She actually said the same thing last year, haha. But I guess, we won't torture her any longer. It's my father's turn the next time around. Kidding! I cheered for Batista the loudest, just so you know. He's a fella, and I can't help but be so proud of him. Have you seen his new ink? Anyway, this is lengthy enough. So long.

Drive-thru Dallas

Snapshots from the east side of Downtown Dallas during an enthralling 35-minute semi are we there yet misadventure. Dang, I miss this place. It's been 7 long months since the last time I set foot on it. Dallas was everything I hoped it would be. It holds a mix of colored people, hence the feeling that we genuinely belong, not to mention the certain parts that are remotely similar of what Cainta (my hometown) was like. As opposed to that, North Irving (my current residence) is a little bit on the upper-class hand. I was raised in a middle-class type of living, resultantly, the mute and cleaner surrounding makes me feel quite alienated. I miss the long bus rides, the noise, the smell, the clutter, the mexicans, the gay people, everything. Had we not scored a great bargain with this house, we should still be staying there. And if I would be given an option, I will most likely prefer growing a family in Dallas than anywhere else.

Randomness...
- Leah Salonga was mentioned in yesterday's Jeopardy. My heart giddily jumped, you bet!
- It is quite surprising that I'm not as enthusiastic as I should be about tomorrow's Saturday Night's Main Event. I think my obsession with professional wrestling tamed down a bit, and I blame FIFA and KAKA for it!

I will make sure that I have a blast this weekend, so make yours a party too!

DVR Drama

As I've mentioned here, my dad had been ridiculously pained by the unreasonable bills Comcast had been slapping him with. Therefore, he switched to a less-than-awesome cable provider namely Dish. No, I'm not really straight-forwardly trashing the network, but for reals, its remote control is anything but user-friendly. I hate it.

But I have no choice. I had to dutifully agree with my dad, and challenge myself into memorizing the channels and the buttons and the settings and the themes and the whatsofuckinelse...all over again! I swear, I was extremely in-love with my old DVR. It had a loadsome of genius TV of my preferred genre, yet I unwillingly scrapped them for this new, needless to say, unattractive DVR from Dish. Ugh!

Anyway, it's been quite sometime since I stayed up this late. I used to have the weirdest sleeping habit (8am-6pm, seriously), but school, the new house, and my new room without the computer in it, were enough provocation for me to put an end to that eye-bug inflator. But... My mom, all of a sudden, has decided to buy another computer... And heck yes, it's for ME! *angels sing* Siguro para wala na siyang kaagaw. Thank God because I've been waiting for this (since I don't have a job *pokes head*). The only catch though is that, I have to continue yielding the temptations of soaking my eyes til the wee hours of the morning. A fair compromise, I guess. But... I can't promise, hehehe.

How about my idol?

"Bata" crowned the new IPT King Of The Hill.
aka THE BEST POOL PLAYER IN THE WORLD.

Fine. I get it. Manny Pacquiao is your Philippine Sports hero. But what about Efren Reyes? He has single-handedly changed pool in every sense of the sport, let alone, his being the first Filipino inducted into the Hall Of Fame. Hence, the fact that he doesn't get the attention Manny Pacquiao has been injected with bothers me, to think that they're both still very dominant in their respective fields. Yes, I am bitter. Because I am simply tired of seeing Pacquiao's overrated offense and try-hard attempts into showbizness, or so I've heard. While my own athletic hero is continuously gaining even more glory for the Philippines in his humble and quietest ways.

Shifting moods...

Did you see the FIFA finals? What the fuck. Hahaha, Zidane Zidone. What was he thinking? I never really liked him, but I have a ton of respect for the guy. He's probably the BEST soccer player of this generation, without any ounce of exaggeration. He's retiring after the cup, and boy shall I say...that is the ugliest exit in the history of sports EVER! *headbutts keyboard*

And yay for Italy winning it, although it was kinda lame that it all came down to PKs. Oh well, another 4 years in the waiting until Brazil and Kaka kick some major butt, haha! Now, some FIBA in two months. Can't wait!

Jampacked!

Basically, I have nothing to solidly blog about. I'm just a little shallow-ish sad that my comcast DVR is leaving me for good. My dad has decided to switch to dish. Not a pretty thing if you ask me, but freakin' comcast costs him ridiculously. I don't pay for the cable, I've got no choice then. But in its last days, I'm savoring every second I get to spend with them premium channels and my recorded shovaloos.

It's jampacked as of current. Overflowing 90+% of genius TV.

• 3 Doors Down Concert
• American Idol Season 5 Finale
• American Idol Season 5 - Top 2
• American Idol Season 5 - Top 7
• Around The Horn
• Babe Laufenberg's Score
• Big Brother 7: All Star
  
• Classic Pool (WPBA)
• Conan O'Brien (is going to Finland)
• Crash
• Disney: Toy Story
• Figure Skating (Marshalls Showcase)
• Friday Night Smackdown
  
• How To Lose A Guy In Ten Days
• Kathy Griffin: Allegedly!
• Kathy Griffin: Strong Black Woman
• Kathy Griffin...is not Nicole
• Major League Baseball Bloopers
• NBA Access with Ahmad Rashad
• NBA's Greatest Games (Mavs vs. Wizards in 2003)
• NBC 5 Sports Extra
  
• Pardon The Interruption
• Project Runway Season 1 Finale
• Project Runway Season 2 - Flower Power
• Project Runway Season 2 - Reunion
• Project Runway Season 2 - Finale
  
• Pulp Fiction
• Regis & Kelly (American Idol, July 4th Special)
• Rockstar: Supernova
  
• So You Think You Can Dance
• The Notebook
  
• WWE Monday Night Raw (hr1)
  
• WWE Monday Night Raw (hr2)
  

Some of these crap have been for keeps for a long time, and some are regularly being recorded every week. It's a gift to have a DVR, because when boring times come, you can always sit infront of the television and watch whatever you have in there. Now, with this companion departing, and a new one arriving, I'm left with no option but to start from scratch. It slightly sucks!

On other stories, today is the day World Cup fans have been waiting for. Italia vs Francia.


Place your bets!

Money is L-I-F-E.

Gotta face it. Passion, just by itself, can't be sustained as my bread and butter. Sure, some people make it. Taylor Hicks is a living proof of that. But I'm not as patient, nor as determined. I'm going the easy way out.

I'm a young adult who's completely clueless of what she wants to do in her life...until today. I've finally apprehended the fact that money is a daily vitamin every single human being needs to take in order to survive. If I pursue what I'm doing right now (graphic designing), I will be risking my ass in such a competitive market, much less, an unsatisfying wage. Whereas, if I bestir myself to neccesary practicalness, not only will I live in contentment, but as well as a future of better welfare for myself and my eventual kids.

I will endure a battle with numeral assassins, and I will be victor in the end. Pharmacy, here I come. And as for my so-called passion, well...here's my blog. A perfect outlet of my creative juices. Another new layout as we speak. *winks*

Gloomy but Giddy 4th

Despite the uncooperative weather...
The grill still willingly served us to a bloaty 4th of July celebration. Obviously, we're not Americans. But I think, being legal residents can already be a healthy excuse to have another one of those splendid get-togethers.

And of course, we couldn't resist to haul ourselves with the American tradition...BBQ!


Mama with raw meat, and Bo starting to grill 'em.


Tita Tina continued the grilling, she's such an expert.


All time faves. From Pansit Palabok to Pizza. Yum!


And the oldies...no young'ins, so you can't find me there d:
It was fun, although the planned pool party didn't push through. Our spacious kitchen served us fine, and the bazillions of eats to chow down. (:

You're so arte.

Let me tell you something. TAG-LISH annoys the heck out of me. Especially, when they're being uttered and/or scribbled by female, or even male, teenagers who act like they know their shit. Well, unfortunately, for reals, they don't.

Kris Aquino: You had two atras powers, why didn't you use it?
Girl 1: I don't want to make paatras e. Kasi it's unfair.
Kris Aquino: Well, it's in the rules, and it's part of the game.

And then she mumbles, "...because I don't want to...uhm *gestures atras*", as Kris Aquino finishes the sentence for her. Mahirap ba sabihin, "...because I don't want to offend anybody"? Gee. Sooo elementary.

Like when people say, "tawagan mo na lang me", or "kasi it's so mainit e". I could only cringe in irate. Is it that hard to say, "tawagan mo na lang ako", or "because it's too hot"? Man, it sounds terribly stupid to me. I'm sorry. But seriously. If you don't know how to speak the language fluently, then don't speak it at all! Besides, you're in the Philippines, mag-Tagalog ka na lang, 'neng!