A public figure for 3 years.

It all started when an emotional outburst striked my Saturday night (or was it Friday? Sorry, was bit tipsy) that had me looking over the internet for some outlet of major spasms. I was chatting it up with Jo, extremely spazzed out herself, as we tangoed our way to LiveJournal. The website was having its own periodical distraught that we couldn't stand the labyrinth of signing up, hence we settled for blogdrive. It was my home for the remainder of the year, until I discovered blogspot, through Ate Clare. And here I am. With my 107th URL. But who cares.

For three years I've developed from a lousy fangirl writer to a candid, witty yet very sophisticated (give it to me, it's my anniversary!) blogger that loves to argue and hates to agree. My topics have varied from squealing over some Korean walking chopstick to drooling over one certain bicep-bearing specimen. And much to my surprise, a lot of you have enjoyed my imbecilic writing when you could simply turn away or leave a "fuck off" note in my wisecrack box. So I thank you. From the bottom of my bacon-wrapped heart.

So, let's see... I have nothing else to write actually, but I want to make smart use of this time and space that solely commemorate my three years of presence in this community. And since I can only do this once a year, I think I'm licensed to display the uttermost narcissism, and you will have to put up with it for the rest of your daily Kai-dosage.

On style...
I don't have a style whatsoever. I blog as I talk. And just so you know, I don't have any accent. At all. I talk just like any Midwesterner, but I have tendencies of sounding Southern with the infectious "y'all," and like a valley girl with the use of "like," which I have been emphatically avoiding. I don't talk clearly, as my peers would say, I kind of swallow my words. But they suck ass, 'coz I know I'm a good communicator. Just like Jael from ANTM Cycle 8.

On topics...
As I've said, my topics have varied over the years. There was a time that all I was blogging about was everything Asian. I so got addicted to Meteor Garden and the likes that I would blog about it every single day eventhough I knew that all my readers were watching the exact same thing I just did. Then morphed into the new image of being miss page six, as Kat used to call me. With being sidelined from school, and being jobless, and the lack of interesting events to write about, I settled on TV shows, showbiz gossips, and red carpet fashion to entertain those who continually visit my blog. It was entertaining at one point but I eventually got tired of it. After all, it was always Paris Hilton dominating the news and I hate her, and her skankiness, so I just had to stop before I get a heart attack. And now, this blog has grown into the most impertinent hodgepodge of all. What blogger talks like John McEnroe one day and Joel McHale the next? Only me! :P

On overused words...
It would have to be "I," but that's a given. So I guess it's gotta be "seriously." I had a huge crush on Apolo Anton Ohno two years ago that I subconsciously adapted his overusage of the word, which, I assume, was primarily caused by his personal obsession over McDreamy and Grey's Anatomy.

On blog-linkage...
This might be weird but I prefer asking for link exchanges than being asked. For some reason, I don't find my blog worthy enough of admirers that it irks the heck out of me each time a random passerby asks for an exchange. Not that I mind, I actually greatly appreciate the maneuver. It's just that, I think it's best if I make the first move. Internet only, not available in stores.

On cursing...
I don't have a problem with cursing, nor with blogs which have the word "fuck" all over it. It actually entertains me even. Those bloggers who choose to be discreet with their choice of cuss words are fine, I respect their personal restrictions. But I believe that we, the cursing-machines, have a lot more fun with blogging. Because not only we are more spontaneous at it, we get to vent out whatever fuckage we feel inside without being cordial, which doesn't make sense to begin with when you're supposed to sound agitated, right?. So thumbs up to online cursing! Just caution your kids regarding my blog, 'coz apart from curse words, I have countless sexual references on it. Remotely not family-oriented.

On communities and awards...
I joined Ricebowls just around the time I started blogging, to generate hits, I guess. But I found it pointless, so I ditched it and forgot about the groupies shenanigans. I mean, I blog just for the heck of it, and I enjoy it as is. As for those awards thingamaboob and stuff, I think it's too intricate for me. So don't ever nominate me for those shit or I'll pummel your ass like never before.

On life on the radar...
Just as my site title indicates, I'm very reserved when it comes to my personal life. I'm not a celebrity, nor the kind considered to be an actual "public figure" but I've practiced maintaining that blanket of privacy in fear of exposing my personal relationships. But I think I've kind of bended that unwritten rule over time, especially when chaos conquers our very home. So chaotic that I had to categorize it and dedicate one particular section for it on my blog. But that's just for domestic purposes. I still refuse to hold discussions about my past boylets, flings, and birthday prostitutes. ;)

If you have read this introduction, you should notice that I'm celebrating three days earlier than dated. While it doesn't really matter, I thought I'd explain why. I have been bombarded with lab work, Algebraisms, and career-choice dilemmas that would potentially prevent me from posting this on the 27th, so I hope you don't mind. *confetti rain*

Once again, thanks to all of you who have patiently put up with me all these years. I can't wait to start another three years with y'all. Que horror! :))

Because I make it work.

As repeatedly publicized, I have this on-going royal rumble with weight. While that may possibly be my lifelong cancer, I don't let it mess with this lifestyle I'm consistently trying to make normal. Let's just say, I'm not your ordinary fat girl. There are numerous things I can do, that most biggies can't (indian-sitting, hand-standing, and finger-licking, to name a few). But most notably, I've always been commended for taking risks, clothing-wise, and how I tweak each get-up to suite a 200-pounder.

When I was in high school, I had always been the fat girl who can't dress. Elephant pants + baggy shirts = the black dude in me. My sexual orientation was even questioned a couple of times. Like, did I really look like a boy? I had braids!! Oh shoot. Basketball players have braids. Snoop doggy dog has braids. So... yeah, fuck, I guess I really did look like a butch. Moreover, affirming the popular myth, my kind of fashion, or lack thereof, back then was unfortunately clueless. I was too preoccupied with pool that I didn't even notice I was slowly looking like my Idol. Only with teeth.

Good thing, I got kicked out. Not that it was an event in my life I can be thankful for (although being dubbed as the "rebel" was kinda cool, ohhh, stop, shussh!!!) but it paved way for me to stick out of that exhausting bubble. I discovered that being fat isn't reason enough to stagnate my take on things, and unmodify my life. I started to LOVE shopping, picking clothes that aren't cousins of trash bags, and make total abuse of under-utilized Fat Fashion stores. But here's the thing. Despite already dressing up like a woman, my new sense of style anyhow flummoxed people who saw me everyday, especially my mom, who simply doesn't get it, and my brother, who thinks I look like a fortune teller each time I dress up.

NOTE: Picture on your left was captured while shopping, inside my fitting room. I know, who takes a picture of herself while dressing up, right? But I just thought I'd supply you with evidence. Half-naked snapshots reserved for MySpace. *wink, wink*

Silly prints, huge dangling earrings, outstretched necklaces, and long crinkle skirts make up my usually unfathomable fashion. Years of sporting the style, nobody has come up to me and complimented how I looked. Until that particular Thursday in school. It's college, nobody would care! Brittany, who has weird but cool taste in clothes herself (*mean girl syndrome* honestly, more on the weird side, but she's blonde and pretty anyway, won't hurt her one bit), proves that overused statement on a daily basis. So I braved the anticipated naysayers and ditched the common jock outfit (sweatshirt + jeans + chucks), and geared up my inner boho.

And let me tell you, I've never been SO flattered in my life.

By my professors, by classmates I don't even talk to, and even by this random woman I shared the same elevator ride with. It was such an Ugly Duckling moment. But whatever, it's been a loooooooooooong time since somebody, unrelated to me, said I looked pretty. *rosy cheeks surge* Trust me, ladies. There's nothing like that feeling of comfotably being yourself, in the superficial public, and actually be showered by overwhelming compliments.

I don't really talk fashion here, but since I'm at it, I might as well share a couple of reminders to all my ladies (and no, I'm not talking to you, sexy bitch!).

• Clothes for plus-sized women cost a lot. Wherever you go, even if you're from Bhutan, clothes for fat people, in general, are excessively expensive. So, as much as possible, stay away from the malls. They have ridiculously beautiful (and branded, but who gives a fuck about brands) stuff in there, but awfully mind-boggling price tags. You may want to try local boutiques, they offer reasonably, and you can even get a pretty good discount if you fill out a couple of carts.

• If you're the extra-extra (or even another extra) large type of biggie, don't be shy and look for that elusive 5x mark. America's obesity epidemic is severely disseminated not to have additional Xs in their dress sizes.

• Gather as much clothes as you can when you fit. It won't hurt trying all at once, while it will going back and forth. Although that's exercise, I won't encourage you to do that. Leave the sweating off the clothes. Please.

• Don't buy clothes and shoes from the internet. Period.

• Be confident. I'm not sure why I'm saying this, because I never intend to be your counselor in any way to begin with, but let me be nice for just one second... You can hear this from a lot of [mature] guys, and trust me when I say that they actually mean it (for once in their fuckin' lives, they're saying something true). Feeling like you're pretty and sexy and knowing that you're pretty AND sexy (yeah, I said it) are two different things. Go figure.

• And most importantly, assure yourself that you're beautiful. Don't dress up, wear make-up, bathe in cologne, just because you want to please your husband, boyfriend, teacher (well, some do that), etc. But do it for yourself. I won't say the inside and out thing, 'coz that's just worn, but every person's made to be beautiful. It's all up to you now to rejuvenate that inert pizazz. *snaps*

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!!!

Six Factoids

I actually have a love/hate relationship with surveys, but since this one doesn't ask me to bold stuff, nor to answer something like "what did you last eat?", I willingly took this (from Elaine). Besides, I think it's about time you get to know more about me. d:

Once tagged by this entry, write a blog entry of some kind with six random facts about yourself. In the end of it, pick six of your friends and tag them! (No tag backs). This explanation must be included, of course.

► Not your ordinary high school girl. I was intimidating, to say the least. I always picked the ramp as my route to the cafeteria, which also was the favorite stomping ground of some annoying preppy juniors. And surely, a simple "padaan!" out of my piehole can quickly clean that specific area in seconds. Well, metaphorically speaking. But you see, I was borderline a bully, and that kind of attitude brought me to the principal's office innumerable times. It wasn't a nice highlight of my years at all. If being forced to drop out wasn't enough punishment, then I don't know what is.

► I was a 3-time pool champion. It all started when my friends discovered a new hang out, a billiards hall accross the campus. I'd always save some off my baon just so I can play there after school, and since my parents were confident that I wasn't into drugs or anything of the like, they never were against it, and even encouraged me to do better. I represented my school once, got the gold medal, and then eventually won a couple more tournaments outside for myself.

► I'm a jolog like everyone else. On paper, people perceive me to be well-heeled. But I'm naturally just like any kanto kid out there. I ride jeepneys, even trycicles, I wear flip-flops when I go out, I played patentero when I was little, I curse in Tagalog, and most of all, I eat streetfood. I didn't stomach chicken intestines though, let alone its head and feet, but I've had a taste of almost everything the sidewalk offered me. My ultimate favorite would have to be the Betamax. It's this solidified pig's blood that comes with spicy vinegarette sauce. Man, I love that stuff! I know it sounds funny, but seriously, it's not even fear-factor-ish. Extremely delicious, trust me!

► I'm a human-parlor. I think I can do this for a living, from cleaning nails to dyeing roots, almost everything but chopping locks. This isn't an innate ability though, I give credit to my nanny and my gay best friend for demonstrating this part of being kikay to me while growing up.

► I can't dance. I have vague memories of myself and a couple more girls dancing in a Mathematician contest in 4th grade as an intermission number. I even had some piece of my creativity thrown into the choreography, mind you, haha. But that was a loooong time ago. Hence, I always find myself sitting in one corner emptying bottles of beer during club parties instead of crazy swirling on the dance floor. It's lonely sometimes, that's why I'd take a drinking fest over a club-hopping trip, any day. Plus, it's more fun to drink when you're exchanging stories with a group of people, rather than hip grinding with random strangers you met about 2 seconds ago. It's just creepy slutty disgusting. *lol*

►And lastly... I never get drunk. I admit to be drinking a lot, but I never get drunk. Dizzy, yes. Tipsy, no. I don't know if it's my football body, or my impressive mental control, but I've never been manhandled because of too much alcohol. My mother always pokes fun at it by saying that it's part of being my father's daughter, since everybody in his clan is accustomed to alcohol, organically. But whatever, as if any reasoning would matter. d:

Done. I'm passing this to Ate Clare, Jaz, Deb, Vayie, Laureen, and Bone. Only if you have time (:

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!