Coldfront tantrums.

Images supplied by my Weather Channel Desktop. And yes, that's 41 degrees in a Texas spring afternoon.
This is insane. It's April 7th and normally by this time, the pool is already utilized due to burning heat. But instead, we're forced to dig into the deepest corners of our closets to bring out (again!) the supposed-to-be-retired sweaters because it's been freezing the past couple of days. The weather had been consistently lingering around the 60s, 70s and 80s the past couple of weeks, and now we're back to the 50s? Even worse, high today is at 38°F, and guess what, even a possibility of snow later in the afternoon! SNOW! In April?? I know, totally weird. Would make sense if we're in the skinny state of Colorado, but we're just right above Mexico, and we're getting snow in April?? I'd be jumping like a kid right now if it's Christmas season. But it's not. And my brother's driving tonight. It CAN'T snow!!!

American Doolittle

I just found out that I haven't talked about American Idol yet since the first few episodes. That's um, surprising. I would normally talk about it every week, make my silly predictions of who should go home or who would have the worst hairdo (this year, it's a no-brainer, obviously), but since my life has gone back to the colorful side, the blogs on reality TV has been apparently limited. But don't worry, my Miss Page Six persona is back to make a furious plea to Sanjaya's voting demographic... PLEASE, take that *insert offensive term here, I can't curse, it's Holy week* off that show!!! It's excruciating!!! ...err, not really. I'm not bothered anymore by Sanjaya's existence. As long as he doesn't stay longer than my favorites, I could care less.


Who cares if she looks like Shrek?? Pssh. Mean. Pokes head.
There's my girl! Melinda Doolittle, the obvious favorite to win the whole thing (once Sanjaya gets off the show, of course). Big voice, big head (literally speaking), and big boobs. Ok, that sounded lesbian-ish. But heck, what's not to love? She's freakin' awesome!! And hey... do you want to win some dolares? I thought I'd throw in a trivia question for those of you, broke pricks like me. Prize money courtesy of leftover aguinaldo... If you can only tell me the name of this Filipino guy my mother instantly thought of upon seeing Melinda for the first time. Clue. They look alike. Duh?

Normally, the boring days...

With no disrespect, I tend to have found the Holy days of Holy week to be the most boring days of my summer childhood. We were not allowed to come out and play patintero, due to our usual clamour that would disturb the neighborhood vigils, eating meat was also, and still is, a big no-no, and cable TV in our area was not yet in existence, that we had to stomach all the Nora Aunor films Channel 2 could possibly air.

But those days are gone. Capped by the annual marathons of Seventh Heaven on Studio 23 (do they still do that?). Don't get me wrong, the Holy week means a lot to me, my family, and the Roman Catholic tradition. Believe it or not, I have my fair share of prayers, repentance, and mass attendance. But I'm not one of those devotees who sorrowfully commemorate the events that actually led to Christ's sacrifice for mankind. I understand, it's their form of recognizing the holidays, but... Ok, ok, I'm not gonna go on and on about this anymore, since it's pretty sensitive for funky me to discuss (and I don't want bitchfights this time of the year).

And just so you know, I have been penitently observing the no-meat-during-Fridays rule, settling on egg sandwiches (who cares about calories? It's Holy week, magtika kayo!), tuna subs from Subway (now, that's "healthy") and dinaing na bangus (marinated milkfish) from the Asian market... with rice, of course, and vinegar dip with crushed garlic. Ugh, I know, it's a sin to be gluttonous, especially this time of the year. But trust me, the bangus just fits the one-meal-a-day penitence. Promise!

In case I get raped again, let me be early and shove you a Happy Easter greeting. Enjoy :)

In case you're interested...

I haven't blogged for a week (borderline hiatus for the avid blogger in me) because of vexatious school work. Professors decide that they would pollute us with chapter tests a week or two before Spring break with little review and (when they're feeling shitty and their husbands aren't home in time) no reminder at all. But don't worry, I have all the blood in the world to sustain the stress and the variety of Southern accents.

I'll spare you my boring college stories, there's not much to talk about anyway (translate: no boys at all!). So, let's see... I have a crapload of other stories to share with you, but it requires major randomness. I hope it's ok. I mean, you know, I've never really been random here...

I went to the movies with Rutendo last Friday. Ok, let me explain the name first. I mentioned her here before as Retunda, because that's how I always heard her being referred as. Little did I know that I have been mispronouncing (let alone, mispelling) her name all this time! I was editing my phone, in her car, when I finally garnered the guts to ask her the real score.

Me: "So how do you really spell your name?"
Rutendo: "Oh, it's R-u-t-e-n-d-o."
Me: "Oh, so it's R-u-t-e-n-d-a. Rutenda. Right? I've been calling your Retunda, and you don't say a thing? Haha, I'm really sorry."
Rutendo: "It's actually, O. Rutendo. But that's okay, everybody does that."

I was so embarrassed!!! Like fuck! This person's taking me to a girls night out, and I don't even know her name! And would you believe, I also once called her Roshunda? Stop laughing, please.

So anyway, as I've said, the bonding session pushed through, despite my self-produced humiliation. It's your typical girls night out, without the halter tops on disco floors, and vigorous flirtation with the opposite sex. It was just the two of us, enjoying our pink beverages at Friday's, exchanging life's horror in OMG-are-you-serious fashion, and a couple of movies to cap the night off. We watched Music and Lyrics, which was so cute, (I mean, who would pass up a chance to see Hugh Grant half naked, right?) and Wildhogs, which was... ugh, apalling, for lack of a better judgement. I wanted to warn her that the movie would be disastrous (judging from the film connoisseurs), but she insisted. It's her part of the treat, so why not. But damn, 20 bucks for that movie? Trash. That's already four mojitos for the two of us!!


Good thing Hugh Grant's effortless wit was spot on, or I'll forever remember that night as the night I saw four 50-something guys skinny dip. Altogether. Yikes! Nevertheless, we had a blast. If the weather wasn't just chilly, and if my mom wasn't practicing her being a mom (to a 12 year old, as she still sees me to be), I would definitely grab her to uptown Dallas where the real fun is. Well, maybe next time. When the gays are out and about. That'd be crazy fun! :))

Oh, so it's already March. I had to go through my planner first before actually reminding myself that another month has passed and my diet hasn't started yet (like it gets me somewhere). But aren't planners supposed to be helpful, and priority-oriented? Yeah, right!


Who puts Oprah in their gawdemn planner?!?!!
And you bet, I had the exact same thing in my phone. Can you blame me? Ellen and Oprah together, only happens once in a blue moon! It's like hitting two birds with one stone. Ha, there's some American idiom for you. I just thought I'd insert one, since haven't been exercising that part of speech here in my blog so... Anyway, in my HDEV journal, I confessed that I have enormous priority issues. Like right now. I'm supposed to be making love with the ruler (figuratively speaking, you pig!) and the graphing paper, but here I am, talking to you about my life's nonsense. I really have to rehab this... or my mom will bitchfight with me again.

Speaking of my mom, we're finally talking. I overheard (but of course, pretended that I didn't hear a thing) that she was studying something for her new job at Coppell, so she needed an updated Internet Explorer. Being enemies with me didn't benefit her all that much, she was forced to work with my brother's hemorrhaging computer. But can I be any eviler? The softie in me approached her and offered my much more functional machine, I was going downstairs anyway, to find solace in sharpenning my graphing skills. She smiled at me and asked me if I was still mad. Will I nod, hurting her even more by my blunt animosity? (Yes mom, I'm not over your harsh behavior, so be sure you're off my desk after 2 hours.) DUH, of course not! Only bad daughters do that. But she apologized, and for me that was enough. She was the bitch in that certain exchange of abrasive tempers, so I'm glad I'm in the receiving end of apologetic approach. And I love my mom. She just needs to control the nerves when something she wants is not being done right. As do I.

And may I just share... A close friend of mine from way back in the days (Eira, si Donita, remember?) is currently working for the ATP (men's professional tennis chuvaloo). She's my personal connection to Federer and co., and she never fails to message me everytime something interesting happens. Like this most recent one.

sisssss!!!!!

naku isusumbong ko lang sayo si rafa! sinundo ko sha sa airport, shempre sikat sha kaya andaming nagpapicture.. aba nagsumbong ba naman sa atp officials na andami raw nagpapicture sa kanya. at ako ang itinuro nya. nuku... gigil na gigil tlga ako! gusto ko sha kurutin sa pwet. haha!!

If your Tagalog is pathetically incompetent, let me summarize the thing for you... My friend's basically telling me that my favorite player is a dickhead for blowing off fans in the aiport, and even blamed her for his displayed rude behavior. Ok, this seriously turned me off. Not that he had the balls to blame a pretty lady for his excuse, but shove off fans? Gee, Rafa. You're not getting a second date from me. I swear!

Well, that's about it... I'm off to torture my brain cells with slopes once again. Have an awesome week, my friends! And remember, if you're planning to watch Wild Hogs, take my advice. For major boyfriend points, go to a local bar instead, watch some incredible Mavs game, and drown yourself in margaritas. In other words, it's not worth it. Unless you've been craving for a tattooed Ray Liotta and a half naked (with sagging man-boobs, no less) Travolta.

The Peter Petrelli Hairstyle

This is why I strongly encourage ESL people to enhance their English. Rapido!
So I had my hair cut. Short. Really short. My mom freaked out, and she still does everytime she sees me. She had a lot to say about it, like... 1) I look fatter, 2) I look like a boy, and 3) I lost sophistication. Haha, thanks mom, that was some huge boost to my confidence! But seriously. I'm not gonna have a Top Model moment here and sob uncontrollably over this stupid mistake some old Mexican chick did to my head. It's just hair! I mean, unlike short penises, it'll grow back! Duh?

What I'm more concerned about is the reaction in school tomorrow. It's college, nobody would care! But my classes are different. I've been rehearsing my reply to Mrs. Dyer when she asks me why I did it -- she's all about change, and she'll be thrilled if she sees change! -- and what my facial expression would be when the entire class turns around and checks out my bob. Oh gosh, it's high school all over again. Nightmare! I think I should wink. Then onto my English class, where class clown Marvin or MV or EmVee would laugh at my new do and say that it looks hot two seconds later. Or maybe not. And lastly, my Algebra class, where I'll hopefully be greeted by this gay dude I've been laying my eyes on, stalker-style. He recently had a haircut, and I complimented it! I deserve payback... and friendship! :))

Note to self: shower, leave-on conditioner, quick blowdry, clip longer bangs behind ears, put on huge pearl earrings (for un-boyish looks), and refrain from cutting uneven stuff. Wait for it to grow back and don't ever come back to Pro-cuts for a haircut. NEVER!!!

Budget Conscious

I was so excited to go to the mall today because this is the first time in a while that I'd be shopping for my family, without them knowing what I'm buying, AND without them paying. Hahaha, I know, I've been such a pain. So despite the freezing rain, we braved the foggy weather in hopes of completing our shopping lists.

I hauled my brother because quite honestly, I'm not the most brilliant shopper at all. I hate choosing, so if I get to set my eyes on something pleasant, I'd refrain from looking elsewhere for something cheaper, or better, and he's safely the other way around. Since we were in a mall, it was pretty convenient to hop from one place to another, depending on what our agenda was, and since we were looking for presents for parents (rhyme time!), we went to Dillard's for some bargain but high quality goods. Being the trying-hard-shopwizard that I am, I scanned the website first to have an idea of how much the potential gifts would cost, and some seemed quite reasonable, hence my confidence of heading straight to the retail.

Off I went to the Women's section, looking particularly for Dior's J'adore. As soon as I saw it, I giddily asked the salesperson how much it costs and it was about 10 bucks over my budget. BUMMER! As much as I'd love to spare more, I have three more persons to buy gifts for, so I had to tell the woman that I'm on a tight budget, and couldn't get it. And guess what, she grinned at me like a rich bitch. Oh no she didn't!!! But since I know it was merely classless of her to do that to a budget conscious customer, and I didn't wanna embarrass my brother, I just had to laugh it off. What can I do, Charlize Theron's endorsement is not for the jobless! So I went on and looked for other stuff... to no avail. My thin benjamins were already getting frustrated until I saw this perfume store just accross Dillard's, and IT'S ON FUCKIN' SALE!!! Ahhh, talk about luck! And you bet, I sprinted my way there, dorkily looking around for something to pay for. Excited enough to even forget the store's name...idiot!

But then again, I caught myself in the middle of a "what's your cheapest?" question and answer portion with the attendant. I was like, "Dolce and Gabbana... no? Um, Gucci... anything else? How about Bvlgari... err, that's too much". It was almost embarrassing that I could already feel my armpits sweating bullets, and my poor brother couldn't help either. The woman, who was exceedingly accomodating by the way, tried her hardest to help me though, but she was just as clueless. Well, I'd be baffled too if I was surrounded by all those perfumes of different names with different scents for different ages and sexes. My chances were slowly shrinking, as I continued surveying her of products I know of... until I saw the concealed Escada cubicle behind her. I asked the nice lady if anything there is within my budget, and yes!!! Angels sang in unison, and there it was... a gift for my mother!

Hahaha, I know, sounds like too much trouble for a bottle of perfume. But I'm afraid, I'm not even close to getting my list done. One down, three to go...

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!!!

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.

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.