Randomgasms.

I'm in no mood to blog but I might fail to do so in the succeeding days due to a jampacked schedule. But as wise men say, there's no harm in trying. Hence, this pitiful attempt of catering you an entertaining update.

1) As you know, I started my first official job over the weekend. Just when I thought I wasn't gonna complain about anything, here I am again, bitching to a friend of mine, about how small my eventual hourly rate is. My jaws dropped trillions of feet somewhere near jilted planet Pluto the very second I heard that the fat check I'm ever anticipating will only exist IF Mark Cuban decided to dine in and I got to serve him. Or someone else's billionaire character wouldn't mind throwing a big fat tip in exchange of friend mozarella sticks. Otherwise, I will be stuck with such a pathetic pay that could barely supply a car with gas.


The shit to memorize. How much are we getting paid again?

Or maybe I'm just thinking way too much (like I always do). Olivia convinces me that the pay wouldn't really be that bad since we'd be serving an average of 10 tables per hour. But what if I'm in the worst of days and nobody on those 10 tables spares me a single cent? I'm done? I get nothing? Nil? Nada? Zilch? I mean, it's unfathomable to me how someone can be so satisfied by working while only relying on occasional philanthropic aftermaths. I should know, I'm a customer who heartlessly disregards the tipping arena! But I'm giving Olivia a chance to materialize her theory. I will stay, enjoy the free/discounted meals and patiently try it out. But if things don't go my way, like they all should be, I'm quitting. Just like that. *snaps*

2) That film class I told you about was unfortunately snubbed by the students that they had to cancel it. They transfered me to another Humanities course just with a different specialization. Now I have to put up with a professor whose name I can't even pronounce and a class that will talk about Mozart, Houdini, the teenage mutant ninja turtles, and everyone else in between. Oh yay, fun! :-l

3) The junk is the lone American left in the French Open singles draw (men and women). She will be facing the two-time defending champion next so I'm not entirely confident that she wouldn't be the latest casualty to this national embarrassment from Paris. But who even cares about the French Open now? Nadal turned 21 today, he's finally legal, and we can already wed anywhere in the world! Yeee. Feliz Compleanos, Rafa! Te Quiero, whatever the hell that means. :-D


How can you not love? And cream? Ok, that's gross. But seriously! :-))
4) My schedule is inconveniently indefinite at this point. All I know is that I go to school for two hours, 4 days a week and I go to work for another 2-4 hours around dinner time. I have yet to schedule classes for driving (conquering freeway phobia 101) so this Tony guy called up to apparently ask when would be the best time to start the therapy. I could barely understand a word he's saying (he has a thick Indian accent) so I passed the phone to my mother who's seemingly BFFs with those people already. Since my schedule is pretty disoriented at this point, I could only take classes in the morning except this coming Tuesday. I clearly told her that, yet I still got yelled at. I supposedly "made her look like an idiot." I really didn't get that at all.

5) I didn't wanna get into a screamfest with her again so I just quickly left and shut my door. I have been through enough tears the past couple of days that I won't waste anymore Kleenex sobbing over this unworthy fight. I'm an extraordinarily irregular bleeding woman, which explains the seldom visit of that bestial torture. But when it rains, it POURS! (Warning: TMI ahead) I never use tampons, so obviously there's only a slight margin of time in between changes using pads (with wings). I had to call my father who's at work and ask him to buy me a new pack on his way home because I was padding the frantic passage every two hours and I'm running out of clogs!! I hate to ask my father to do things like that for me, but that's the same reason why he's the best father in the whole world! (He got me the maxi, with wings, and some bonus Midol. Now tell me, you'd kill for a father like that!) And as for my mother? She kind of lightened my condition with that disposable hot pack, but after that, I got nothing else. Plus, I should have been the one congested with PMS, not her!! Anyway, after three years of constantly living together, I've finally gotten used to moms. And they will always be moms. They're cursing at you one second, and they'll be shopping shoes for you the next.


6) Is it only me or The Finals suddenly became interesting? The Spurs are gonna win it, that's basic math. But I won't write the Cavs off just like I did to Miami a year ago. (Because that ate me up. Real bad) LeBron is proably one of the most overrated superstars this league has produced in years, but there's no question that his dignified All-Star doesn't deserve any doubt from anyone... for now, at least. I'll be surprised if they go out in a sweep, but I won't be shocked if Manu Ginobli, like the goregeous killer that he is, circusses his way around King James. Now we've got ourselves a show! Spurs in, well, 6.

7) But even if I'm whining about work, school, and my period, I'm nonetheless excited about the busier days ahead. Exactly a year ago, I was enjoying the pool, grilling something bacon-wrapped, and fattening my already fat ass on the kitchen couch. And look at me now? 15 pounds lighter, in school, with a job, and a heckling schedule ahead. Trust me, I really do hate it when I hear myself complaining, that it's even crazy when I tend to imagine that it could possibly be genetic. I know, that's just me, being awesome at excuses. So, to prevent another run at 'Randomgasms' stacked with complaints, I'll be working on a list of mid-year resolutions. I have jotted a few things down, bitching included, but I have yet to figure out what else negative is there for me to eliminate. Narcissism, perhaps? Help me out. It's your only chance. ;-)

2am heebie-jeebies

I've been basically working on a new template for 24 hours. I ran out of gas. So... as lectured by the weekly blue bag... recycle. Therefore, I did. Lame excuse, but I bet you hardly even remember it. Plus, it serves another purpose as a constant reminder to eat more fruits as the new season approaches. Not that I'll be gunning for that bikini body everybody will be obsessing on achieving in 3 months, but I'll simply TRY (again) to lose more. I had been swimming like Marina before fall and winter came along, and I felt lighter afterwards. So I'm planning on doing that again. In my yellow polka-dot extra large bikinis, no less. ;)

I told my dad I would get a job. He smiled. Probably thinking in his head, "it's about fuckin' time!" but I don't know... there's still this little senorita in me that fears the pressure of being commanded. Or being fired when I accidently fried the burgers when they're supposed to be grilled. But at the same time, I've been longing for that simultaneous flow of money. The kind of lifestyle where guilt is in no position to ruin your shopping sprees. If and when I get personal income, I won't have to pester my parents in luxuriating me with stuff they're not obligated to cater me anymore. I will be able to buy my own pleasure, bribe my brother to drive for me, and even pay for college fees. That's gotta be a lot of help to my parents, especially considering the fact that I'm still a palamunin at this age.

And most especially when your mom just recently told you, "wala kang pakinabang!" OUCH.

Did I really need to hear that? Again? Gee. Well, it's been 10 days since the last time I spoke to my mother. It's been awkward. I could tell. We're like not breathing the same air. I'd walk past her, she'd walk by me, we'd see each other in the eye, but we won't talk. Not a word.

I won't make the first move though. I have a really large ego, and when I get hurt, especially if I did nothing... I repeat, NOTHING... that's reasonably upsetting to you, I'm not gonna cuddle your upper thigh and beg for peace. My mother gets pissed at the simplest of things, and you won't even believe why she got angry at me to begin with. It's laughable even. But it hurts... It still hurts, especially when she acts as if we don't coexist. Or when I can't use her dryer, use more minutes on my phone, or borrow her huge pearl earrings. No kidding. Slight.

Tomorrow, or later (if you want to get technical), will be our third time hearing mass without making peace. Usually, I'd go right to her, give her a peck (during peace be with you session), and we'd be completely back to normal afterwards. But it's a different story this time. I felt like I was abused verbally and emotionally, and I'm not going forward again and make what happened seem fictional. This will probably cause me a lot, most notably a shortage of God's faith in my being a good Christian. But I'm really sorry Papa God, if I don't hold on to my pride, I'm afraid I might get into it again... much worse, get my stuff thrown out of the door only for the reason that I din't clean her toilent sink.

Dark and Twisted

Shonda's not really going to kill her titular character, is she? Duh, of course not. At least not in her dark and twisted being. While on the verge of death, McDreamy comes to her rescue ala knight and shining whatever... and there goes my cookieness. After an extended hiatus of extreme tear-gripage, I finally sobbed, heartbroken-ly-ish. What a denouement. What a show! As exclaimed by fellow greyhead Joey -perfectly- that certain episode KILLS! [No pun intended.] And I don't know if my cholesterol-wrapped weaks could handle more of these dark and twisted stories. But good Lord, Shonda is a genius! Never would've thought that the past two episodes would conclude the way they did. Let alone the sight of two former boylets of the show! Creepy yet very enticing. Hahaha. FINE! I don't care if it's a heart attack chasing after me now, but give me more drama! Peculiar, unexpected, bewildering drama... SERIOUSLY.

So addicted, I squeed when I saw James Pickens Jr. coach the East celebrity team of the NBA All-Star Friday night. CHIEEEEEEEEEEEF!!!! Literally. Asked, "Do you call Patrick Dempsey McDreamy?" he replied, "No. But he calls me McChocolate." Hahaha, loves it!

And I'm starting to think my mother and I have a Meredith-Ellis relationship. We fight, we love, we don't talk, we... I don't know already. You know it's just bizarre when she gets increasingly furious. She starts to morph into a dark and twisted monster. A monster who'd blurt out distinctively hard words that target cholesterol-wrapped weaks like mine. It hurts, and it always repeats... So I guess it's not at all insane of me to compare my life story to Meredith's... Um, mother-wise 'coz I remotely have no McDreamy (yet!). But whatev... I'm hanging on. As long as I believe I'm not being a pain in the ass, I will firmly hold on to my luggage. Like seriously... she can't be complaining about a daughter who has good grades, doesn't do drugs, doesn't even party anymore, does chores, dyes her roots, cleans her nails, plucks her brows, and resists the temptations of her coca-cola gallons. I'm pretty much doing a good job, and she tells me wala akong pakinabang??? Sorry mom, but that's bullcrap.

But this isn't supposed to be about me. I'll reserve more of my personal drama for later. Baka maubusan tayo, hehehe. Before I go though, I gotta tell you... The scene that made me cry really hard was the McSteamy-is-a-good-friend-after-all scene. Aw, man. That just inflated my already swollen eyes to extremes. I wish I had a friend... As hot as him... Poor me.

California vs. Texas

My wisdom tooth is soaked in excruciating pain that it now has its own heartbeat. No kidding! But as I was watching That's The Question last night, I learned that there's a certain part of the brain that has its own anesthetic capability which would seemingly work when you don't think about the ache that registers your body. I know, that can't be serious, right? But it actually works. Once in a while. Just like Aleeve. But not really the eternal remedy I was hoping for.

Anyway, let's forget about this bastardly denture for a second, shall we? I've been thinking about this dilemma my mother, and this whole family, are presently facing. Well, it's not really a dilemma since I'm the only one who's entirely against the idea, but I'm pretty much on point, contrary to the rest. Allow me to fill you in.

My mom got a call from Cedar Sinai Medical Center last Monday. Suri Cruise, those Spederline kids, Kingston Stefani-Rossdale. Ring a bell? Yes. That Hollywood hospital. She could've landed a job there long before we moved to Texas, but she chose to be committed to her agency at that time. But since her ties with it, and Children's Medical Center, are soon to be unattached, she's been contemplating on which hospital she would rather spend the rest of her professional life in. She's obviously enthused by the Cedar Sinai opportunity, and although I'm pretty confident that she already has this in the bag, I still can't quite imagine myself living in a city like Los Angeles. Permanently. Unless I choose to be left here in Dallas. Forgive the skepticism, but I seriously have some issues.

We've been out of apartments for almost a year now, and I'm not one who'd take the risk of leaving this beautiful house in exchange of a 2-bedroom, fifteen-hundred-dollar apartment in Hollywood. Plus, this location can't get any more convenient. We're literally minutes away from the post office, gas station, interstate freeway, schools, church, a lane stacked with restaurants and fast food chains, Walmart, Target, mini malls, etc. This place is effin' awesome! That's why I can't be puzzled enough by their, my dad's specially, obsession over this whole moving idea. I mean, it was OK before 'cause we didn't have to tow furnitures with us, and we traveled not via land, but this is a totally different story. And I never imagined busting my ass driving a U-haul from one state to another. So please!

Family, yadda yadda yadda. Sure, it's definitely funner spending Holidays with the rest of the clan. I'm not that insensitive to not cognize the comfort of having people you know best in the same vicinity as you are. But how about being practical for once? Los Angeles isn't the best place on earth for a family like ours who's only halfway through being completely stable. If we're already jousting over tax payments in a state that only commands Federal tax, how much more if we move to a place where there's Federal, city, county, state, and all else? Let alone the cost of living, the percentage of interest I have to pay when I loan for college, and just about everything in that superstar expensive city that'd ruthlessly torture our bank books.

Okay, I might be a little too overreacting, but you get the drift. I've gotten used to the type of living here in Texas and it would take a lot to shift gears YET again. Here, everything's humbly cheap (well, compared to LA), there's the equally diverse community, time zone is PERFECT, and we get the four seasons. Even snow on lucky winters. But obviously, my point is beyond making snowballs during Christmas time. It's about gambling this more than contented life we're all zesting at the moment, for something so trivial as being in the same state as family. Yes, I said trivial, not big enough of a reason to me. Why? Because I'd rather spend a 500-dollar ticket to California every summer to see them all, than inescapably slap my face with traffic, stupid celebrities on the streets and ridiculous bills I can't even afford to pay.

I'm so glad I'm a Capricorn. It sometimes pays to be inevitably practical. But hey, I'm only one-fourth of this family and I don't make the decision alone. So... insha allah!

Planchadora Tales

If anything inside this four-walled cell makes my life less boring, it's gotta be my chore of ironing everyone's clothes in a weekly basis. I don't like it, but once I'm at it, I enjoy it. After all, aircon or heater is always on, I'm sitting down while doing it, infront of the television, and with, occasionally, a bag of chips. In other words, I'm comfortable enough, so I can't really complain.

But for me to keep myself from bitching about it, I gotta have a good set of tools in order to keep up with this recurrent task. I've been complaining about the iron and ironing board, respectively, since last year, but nobody cared to listen. My parents would just go, "pwede pa yan!" motioning for me to continue using them, even if I'm already having a difficult time. But as the uber patient daughter that I naturally am, I did exactly what I was told. I even stopped thinking that they'd ever hear my plea, until my mom used the iron herself in which it suddenly bursted out electric sparks. Told you, it's time for a new one. And so my father got me a new iron to work with.

However, the iron wasn't my only problem. The ironing board's feet which are now severely unbalanced is making the task extra hard for me, and so, I once again tried voicing it out... yet again, to no avail. What did I get instead? A handful of some-some, you know what I mean.

And it unquestionably pissed. me. off.

I love my mother. Sure. But there are certain times when I feel like I act like her age, and she acts like she's me. I told her, in such a desperate tone, that we need a new kabayo, then she unhesitatingly replied, "pagchagaan mo muna 'yan". I would try, had I not been complaining about it for more than a year. That fuckin' kabayo can even barely stand, that's why I've been begging for a replacement. But she wouldn't listen. It's as if the clothes I'm dealing with are all mine, when mostly, it consists of her srubs. And yes. My mom's a nurse, and she can't buy me a freakin' ironing board. I know. She doesn't earn much, right?

I would understand if she's strictly saving some bucks, and wouldn't want to spend on unplanned expenses. I can still wait. But if she can afford to buy plastic flowers through craigslist, then not this useful gadget that can very well benefit the people in this house altogether, we definitely got a problem. It's not like I'm asking her to buy me a plasma tv or something.

Inside our family's car.

One of the things why I like my mother sitting in the backseat is so to keep her from arguing with the driver (aka my father), because naturally the constant nagging is just a little unpleasant to the ears. However, no matter where she is seated, neither how hard I try to calm her down, I always end up unsuccessful, and my father being no less than annoyed.

We left the house at around 10:30pm last night in hopes of arriving our destination at least before midnight. But Papa opted not to take the freeway due to his reading difficulties without street lights, therefore, we took another route which unfortunately brought us disorientation. We were only looking for Shell, and before we knew it, we were lost. A little over 15 minutes of squabbling, shutting them up on my part, we finally found the entry to the right path. And as soon as I saw the AMC logo from afar, I told Mama with glee...

Me: "Ma, there's the Stone Briar mall, we're already close by!"
Mama: "Yeah, if your Papa only listened to me, you should have seen that logo a long time ago."

Hahahaha, Winner!

But in events like this, my mother's navigating skills can be very useful, although she has a tendecy to be inevitably cantankerous. Hence I think my father should learn how to start listening to his human-GPS behalf. It can only take us on a peaceful ride each time. (:

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.

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.

Segunda Mano

I didn't get the chance to check my blog the whole day yesterday, and so, when I turned on it today, I was pretty much in shock to see some changes, that I know, I didn't make consciously. The font was changed from Trebuchet MS to Verdana, and a quarter of my links list was gonzo. What the freak is going on? Is some no life douchebag trying to mess with me again? Oh, lord. It seems like I attract hackers the most. It's so unfortunate.

Anyway, my mom has been very addicted to Craig's List. I tell you, we have a gazillion of things at home that are second hand, thanks to her obsession. Not that I'm totally against it, but I just don't like the idea of using somebody else's stuff just for the sake of a cheaper price. Thankfully though, Mama never buys something remotely close to sanitary gadgets, haha, so yeah...we let her be. Today, she bought a sofa sleeper for the room downstairs, plus a foot-on, a lamp, a side table and a couple of picture frames. All from Craig's List. Mama is actually not a stingy person, and she's a nurse for peter's sake. But seriously, is Pier 1 that expensive? I never thought so. Oh well.

I was supposed to see Superman Returns last night. I even threw a hissy fit just so we can go. But it didn't work, as usual. Papa was too lazy to drive, and my brother wouldn't want to go. Mama can't drive, and I don't want to. I was so pissed. But it opened my eyes to something. I have to face the hell of freeways and start driving for my own sake. It can only help.

Have a lengthy and lively spirited weekend, my friends!