Working like a dog.

I have worked unforgivable hours for my current job. I never thought I had this workaholic in me! I mean, money is a magnet. But I didn’t expect it to be this magnetic. I underestimated my capabilities when it comes to getting paid. I also have been complaining. My mom and I just had a minor bitch fight yesterday over some undone chores. Ok, I was probably wrong for shutting her down after a 12-hour shift. But her memory kind of spaced out when she forgot that I work every day of the week for about 6-7 hours a day (with no breaks), plus school, and that I only caught 2 hours (TWO hours!) of sleep the previous night for a paper. My mother’s getting old, I get that. But sometimes, I just feel the need to buttheads with her, as often as she wants to burst my the-world-revolves-around-me bubble.

I, for very forgivable reasons, have thought of quitting my job. First things first, my job is very noble. It’s probably one of the best decisions I have ever made in my life. But being a teacher takes its toll. Especially if you’re a Kindergarten teacher at noon, a toddler teacher by 3pm, and an infant caretaker come 5. Being a teacher slash floater is not the easiest shit in the world. Don’t get me wrong. I adore those kids like they’re my own. It’s just that, for a couple of months, I experienced working in just one classroom, with the same eight babies, everyday. And being back to the floating arena is not what I had hoped for when I gave up my position for a friend who needs the hours more than I do. [Even if it’s wrong, I sometimes wish I hadn’t told her about my wondrous job. But that’s a sin and I don’t need any more of that.]


How can you resist a smile like Blake's?
But to my consolation, I get the luxury of rewarding my own hardwork with no guilt involved. I get a couple of martinis every weekend, a good serving of fine dining, and some shopping here and there. It’s kind of a blessing to be earning and only paying one bill (and that, my friends, is the cable). So I share. And it’s not just your ordinary “share”. I basically pampered my family on Christmas that I almost (just almost) forgot about myself—which, as you know, is a rarity. I gifted my mom this patch plaid duffel bag from Dooney and Bourke; my bestfriend got a black satchel from her favorite store; and the boys (aka dad and bro) got a pair of tickets for a Dallas Mavericks home game (AND, it’s even against the team they favor most from the opposite conference). Oh my goodness. I know! How special of a daughter, sister, best friend am I?? All together now… SO special! But even if they trapped me in great debt, giving as much as receiving is ultimately the most amazing reward I could ever give myself. I know, right? I’m not so much of a selfish, histrionic, narcissistic bitch after all.


Me and mi hermano after a one-sided Mavs win.
If I was too much of a bitch, to begin with, I wouldn’t stick to a job that requires changing diapers, reading a story, playing hot potato, singing ABCs, and potty training (oh it’s my favorite!). I have been in Primrose for almost 4 months now and although it sucks the patience out of my system, I still kick ass whenever I tell my friends that I am a teacher while being a student.

PS.
I know the NBA tickets were supposed to be the boys' presents only, but my birthday was around the corner too that I just had to give myself a good view of Dirk Nowitzki too. [My mother thinks he’s hot, I’d like to prove otherwise. But he’s a good baller. Very good.]

Just so you know...

I haven't forgotten about you. In fact, I have been excessively thinking of ways on how to get back on this thing before it forgets about me. Well. I'm still breathing. Healthy and alive. So the pregnancy and death rumors are now safely bound to trash. Ok, I totally made that up. But my excuse is absolutely valid. I now have a job (that I dangerously enjoy), I underwent major full-time-student-ness (by taking 18 credits at once!!), and I insanely morphed both activities and inserted them into my daily lifestyle. Hence the lack of social life. Even this virtual social life.

But I'm back. For good, as I pray. I finally managed to buy a new laptop to take with me wherever winds lead me and that shall help me update this thing in a regular manner as I used to. And before I go any further, I just want to make my apologies. I know it's not a big deal for most of you, but true friends have contacted me over time, and I truly appreciate the thoughts and wishes. You guys rock my face off.

Since the last time we've talked, many things have changed. I have been a success story for the most part, although finding the right job for me became such a task. Mind you, I have had three jobs since my two-week stint at Carino's. I accepted a sales job at my college's bookstore during the remainder of that summer, and while it was convenient to work at a familiar setting, the load of work plus the very unsatisfying pay just couldn't cut it for me. Can you imagine me stacking bottles of Pepsi products on three different refrigerators on a regular basis? I didn't think so. But I was bored, fat, and broke that I stuck through it for four desperate months. During those four months too, I was hired by Kohl's as an associate for the Junior's department. Whoever said working in retail was the easiest job on earth, must be seriously decapitated.

So after merely three paychecks, I quit. Both jobs. But hey, at least I experienced something I've always wanted to do... work two jobs at one time. Looks like I may never try the adventure again. Then enter this teaching job in my neighborhood of Valley Ranch. First of all, I had no idea why on earth I decided to apply for it. Because one, I have no teaching degree, and two, kids and I aren't always the perfect pair. But I thought it would never really hurt me to try, so I did. The same week of my interview, I was also offered a job at an Irving library for an assistant position which pays no less than $13/hr. I was appalled at myself for rejecting that. Who wouldn't be when I could guiltlessly buy a Gucci with a whopping paycheck? (note: I don't pay no bills.) But anyhow, I made a rather selfless decision to work with nrkids that pays a few dollars less of what I could have gotten as a librarian. After all, kids and I started to click like macaroni and cheese.

I'll tell you more about this one in the future. I just wanted to update you about the basics of my life. Like losing quite a few pounds, spending most of my time either at work or inside my car (I can now drive on freeways!! WORD.), and still not having a lovelife (which I'm actually thankful for). How about you? Have you missed me? Did I miss anything out here? I know I missed Kat's pregnancy announcement (Congrats, Katkat!) and Alternati's website warming, but is there anything else? Fill me in.

With that, I leave you with warm Christmas wishes. I hope you enjoy the holiday, I know I will.

My poppa so fly...

...he doesn't care if we call him Jimmy Santos.
...he confidently believes that he resembles Christopher de Leon instead.
...he doesn't complain when it comes to food.
...he never complains when it comes to alcohol.
...he doesn't mind going to the grocery only to buy his daughter tampons.
...he can't go a day without telling a joke -- no matter how corny it is.
...he repeatedly does a butt flop when he uses the swimming pool.
...he repeatedly causes our backyard a tsunami.
...he calls himself DOTC; as in driver of the century.
...he's as addicted to basketball and tennis as we are.
...he oftentimes shoots an airball even on the freebie line.
...he doesn't care about my obsession over Rafael Nadal.
...he is just as obsessed with Matlock.
...he can't get enough of game shows.
...he worships our cable provider for having The Gameshow Network.
...he even TIVOs The Price Is Right and Jeopardy on a daily basis.
...he still lets me sleep with him when ghost images hover my sleep.
...he snores like hell, which is the best medium of shooing bad spirits.
...he's addicted to chocolates, cookies and polvoron.
...he hates sour food, super cold weather, and the Phoenix Suns.


My poppa so fly, he also once murdered my haircut. :))

10 reasons...

...why I quit my job.


1. I tried serving water once and the humongous glasses almost escaped my fat little hands. 2. Wearing all black from head to toe, especially during Summer, is just completely out of this world. 3. Free food at work is not the greatest idea on earth. No wonder we all looked like twins. 4. I'm currently studying about Francois Boucher, Dorothea Lange, Francisco Goya, Andy Warhol, and Jacques Louis David (people I've NEVER even heard of in my life!!) that there's not much enough space in my already smart-stuffed brains for the different types of cheeses in their variety of pasta dishes. 5. Loud Mexican music in the kitchen is like juicing lemon on a busted wound. 6. A pathetic wage of less than $3/hr is not even enough fill out a 70s car gas tank. 7. Befriending the legacy of Van Gogh, Mozart and Beethoven are so much more important for my future career than making love with lenguinis, raviolis, and rigatonis on a daily basis. 8. I'd rather watch paint dry than to witness every single table luxuriating in their respective dishes. 9. Spontaneous ESPN tv at the bar area will get me fired eventually, anyway. 10. Target pays double the hourly rate of what I was gonna get. If that's not reason enough to quit, then I don't know what is. Bottomline, job this normal is NOT for me. Period.


...why tomorrow's showdown will be an epic.


Besides these delirious attempts at singing which are already YouTube favorites.
1. Roger Federer is closing in on becoming the GOAT (greatest of all time). 2. Rafael Nadal is also gunning to become the greatest clay court player of men's tennis history. 3. Fans have voted Rafa to be the better dancer, now it's time to prove who's the better player on dirt. 4. They're lovers off the court. 5. Whoever wins will cry during presentation. I'm stacking more votes for Federer on this one. 6. Mary Carillo is color-commentating, alongside John McEnroe. You cannot be serious! 7. Rafael Nadal has been scary good at the French. (He's literally unbeatable here, for Pete's sake!!) It will be the match of Fed's life to finally get his stamp on Roland Garros, and more importantly, beat Rafael Nadal for the first time on the Parisian clay. 8. Rafa, on the other hand, should use Fed's recent sluggish performances to his advantage. If he wins, not only he gets to be in the record books, he would also help tennis get back to mainstream popularity. 9. The French Open is Nadal's as to Wimbledon is Federer's. This is his house and Rafa will do everything to barricade those come-ons if he wants a three-peat. 10. And as for Roger, it's practically now or never.


...why you shouldn't worry about me.

1. I'm getting a new job somewhere here in Valley Ranch, and I'm not homeless yet. 2. The pool is clean and working, that should help me shed those pounds I gained from eating too much of those free Italian nachos. 3. Remember that job at the psycho ward with Rue? 4. This is random but The Sopranos ends tomorrow, about the same time as Game 3. What are you watching? 5. I'm buying tons of cucumber tomorrow to erase those ugly dark circles around my eyes. 6. There are three cute guys in my class, that's why I refused to ditch it when Carino's subtlety let me choose between work and school. Only an idiot would take that job over an easy class, with eyecandies in tow. :)) 7. Wimbledon is on is two weeks. That will surely keep me and my hormones busy. 8. My mom was actually the one who persuaded me to quit. 9. Which means, she's still totally fine with me being a pain in her ass. 10. But I'm sticking to my agenda. After fixing my license, I'll be working some place else where there's flexible schedules and no free food.

Have an awesome weekend.

Departure from Joblesslandia

It might be too early to celebrate since I haven't even began orientation yet.. but heck, who even cares. I now have a job!!! *happy happy joy joy* Ok, it wasn't easy getting one. Even a normal job. I went from Career Builder to Snag-a-job only to find myself surfing around the infamous Craigslist (yes, I was that hopeless) to find something to do during the summer, and at the same time, earn some greens to feed my luxurious needs.

I emailed that dude who posted the ad, Carino's was in need of hosts, servers & bartenders. I told myself before that I will never work in a bar/restaurant, especially of this class, because 1) my clumsy level is fire-worthy, 2) it'd be embarrassing to see friends and classmates while I work, and 3) they FEED employees for FREE! The latter was reason enough for me to hesitate because Italian food (and margaritas, hello?) is evil and I don't wanna get any fatter. But in desperation times like these -- when I'm in the middle of pursuing a degree, in perfect age to finally finance my caprice, and in total shame for still being under my parents' supervision -- I should not complain, nor resist any money-making machine that shall come my way. Especially when my eventual employer kindly admits my no-experience, no-resume plea.


Shouldn't there be bonuses for online promotion? :)) [photo credit: scladesma]
So I came in, dressed in my usual preppy Sunday self, met the mister I emailed, and started the whole applying process. I've never been in this kind of position before, so you can only imagine the monstrous butterflies that were uncontrollably going bonkers in my stomach. The place was really cozy, so it allowed me to at least settle in. I filled up their form, took the personality test, then talked to another dude, which I later discovered as an actual first interview. It was sort of like a first date; awkward, semi-formal, and a LOT of smiles. At one point, I totally forgot that I wasn't in the middle of a first date that I had to stop my babbling (I tend to do that when I'm already comfortable, which is a no-no on first dates, much less, first job interviews). He was cool though, very accommodating and cute even. Oh gosh, rule number one: NO crushes at work. Thou shalt not. And can I just say, he was Polish. Eeek! Ok, I'll stop.

Then he said afterwards that I would have to come back the next day to meet the GM for a second interview. I had absolutely no idea how that would go. He did mention that Ms. *** was a big girl which was indicated to intentionally make me feel less nervous. I was just like, um.. thanks dude.. for implying that I'm f-a-t! But I wasn't gonna give him a smirk, after all, I was on the brink of getting hired.

So I met up with the GM the next afternoon. Yeah, she was big, but she was surprisingly young and perky! Her favorite word? "Awesome" which was.. awesome, hehe. Contrary to the first interview, this one was more of like a sorority initiation. Questions ranged from "What's your major?" to "How do you define teamwork?" And when asked what was my biggest flaw... I replied, "I tend to slow down just a bit when I want tasks to be perfectly executed." As Lauren suggested on The Hills, you gotta get that flaw question in your favor by making it a positive flaw. Who knew I would learn something from watching a crappy MTV reality show? However, slowing down in the restaurant business is a mortal sin. Oh fuck, did I just self-destruct my already impressive way to employment kingdom or what??


One of the reasons why I wanna work is to lose weight.. And they provide dining privileges??
I was detecting skepticism from her because she knew my lifestyle. I'm in my 20s with no previous experience, and a college student who doesn't shoulder a thing. And the fact that I live in Valley Ranch must have concerned her a bit because people in this neighborhood are the ones eating at those fancy places. But I believe I convinced her that this resident is not the d-a-d-d-y kind of girl. I wash the dishes, do the laundry, and iron everyone's clothes (remember?). So she paused, left with my paperwork, and huddled with the other heads. Thank God the bar TV was on with ESPN or I might have flipped in extreme neurasthenia. She came back with a subtle grin, extended her hand and uttered, "Congratulations, welcome to the team!" For a second there, I was uncharacteristically shut as I could only say, "OH MY GOD!" Angels in my head sang in perfect chorus as my perennial blabbermouth started exploding with excessive and sometimes unnecessary thanks. She was delighted, I was ecstatic! I am finally employed!

This is a normal job. So normal that my mother could probably even hire a cook from that restaurant for her own household. But, as I always told my friends, that's my mom (and dad), that's not me. They earn more than enough, I don't possess anything. I'm way beyond the age of moving out, let alone, having a job, yet I'm still being a torturous pain in their butts. So guess what, I figured it was about time to give back. Maybe not the exact payback I've always wanted to return, but I'm sure paying the cable or internet and my own phone bills (I mean, duh, shouldn't that be #1?) could be a nice start. See? I'm not a bad bad daughter, after all! :-p

Comfort while chaperoning, ya dig?

I hopped inside the car after a meeting with school stuff last week when my brother said mother rang and asked us to go straight to the mall. She has been shopping. My brother, who had no plans of going elsewhere, was only in his pang-bahay hoodie and denim shorts, while I was dressed quite accordingly. He didn't mind driving me all the way downtown Irving, but he was obviously bored and pissy, pacing around the women's area of Macy's. So he dragged my dad to the Food center (as usual) and waited and waited and waited until he finally pulled out his car keys and decided to leave. Which was completely understandable anyway, he wasn't there to buy anything, not even lunch, and was stuck with women who even seem to have not cared as long as they're grabbing stuff with sale tags.


He'll bite me if he sees this. But that's the best father, AND husband in the world.
So I've been thinking... I really think there should be a coffee shop, or a little burger bar inside the shopping stores, and scattered couches everywhere. For one, a lot of women can't brave the freeways of this big city (and many others), that certainly, the men of their lives would have to stick around during discount days. And like they had a choice, right? (I mean, just look at my dad! Poor him.) Secondly, boys will have nothing else to do at home to begin with. Instead of just eating and watching sports all their days off, the little burger bar can even help hone their social skills by chatting it up with other husbands, boyfriends or brothers while waiting. And lastly, for those loyal ones who choose to tag along the women, (carrying the bags, of course) the couches can only make them feel comfortable whenever they may be lead. Again, look at my dad right there. He customized his own little waiting area while my mom's trying out stuff in the fitting room! I really think my ideas are worth some consideration. Like seriously. Shall I pitch 'em? :P

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...

On the first day of Christmas...

Damn, December's here! And in no time, I'll have to turn a year older again. But I'm not gonna dwell on that just yet. In fact, I'm pretty much thrilled by the approaching Christmas season. It's my favorite time of the year for the simple and very corny reason that most families gather in this occasion more than any other. Well, not that I'd normally care about others, but whatever. I just thought it's cool to think about it that way, besides the most anticipated part of scrapping the gift wrappers on Christmas morning.

And what better way to kick off the season but with snow! On a very rare event, this northern part of the state was slathered with snow two days ago (still November, word!), from morning til afternoon, and it never stopped. Boy, you can only imagine our sophomoric glee while watching the flakes cover our frontyard, as if it's getting any thicker than an inch. Haha!



My sometimes incosiderate mother though attempted to ruin our gaieties by asking us to Christmas-ized the house, inside and out, in the midst of a killer temperature. I'd normally bitch and be all "please, stop killing me!", but I'm practicing being patient right now, therefore, I just had to be the obedient daughter, even if watching the snow spread before my eyes was the perfect lazy day I've always dreamt of. I didn't have to do much though, since there's the little brother (who's literally big, btw) who's more than willing to climb slippery ladders and attach one electric extension to another, and a partridge in a pear tree. The finish product was more than satisfying anyway, and I'm proud to say that I took part in making the Christmas tree, oh yes! And there, we finally got our first ever PAROL!!! Now my mother stands a chance in winning that Deck The Halls-esque contest here in Valley Ranch. She's obsessed with decorating that even our indoor plants are now plastered with running lights. Seriously.

And since we're already talking Christmas, I thought I'd just ask you, my dear friends, for some wanted advice. I happen to be jobless, and with only more or less $300 in my pocket (seemingly impossible to buy 5 people quality gifts, but that's all I fuckin' have *sniffles*), I'm wondering what gift is best suitable for the greatest father on earth. I know, I'm too sweet! :)) My mother, who's my super best friend as you know, deserves a stupendous giveaway too, but unlike my father, she's very easy to pick a present for. Kindly help??? Just for my dad. I want to give him the best gift possible, even if it's under 50 bucks, hahaha, just kidding.

Ambak!

*** Long entry ahead. If you can't devote a good 10-minute readfest of a Texan's escapade to California, and with major camwhorage in tow, then this particular post is not for you. Scaramoosh!

I was planning to blog while I was in California, but my aunt's AOL dial up service was helluva crap, for lack of a better word. I'm over and done with dial up, so to sit infront of that computer for more than 15 minutes would actually be very patient of me. Unfortunately, that's yet one trait I'm planning to list in my new year's resolution, hence the short hiatus. But I'm back! With a new blog address, blog title, template, stories, and everything else. Long story short, I just got tired of the old stuff. Back to story...

As you know, I finally got my much awaited vacay the past couple of weeks and I got to spend each day with no less than my family. Expectedly, it was fun, but I never thought I'd be exhausted by the 3rd day. We were always on the go, there was always something to be up to, and not one day for me to indulge myself in that tempurpedic bed. Not that I didn't have a choice, but I don't want to give them the cold shoulder, especially that they only get to see me once in a blue moon. Nevertheless, I had a ball, and hopefully everyone else also did.

The rundown.

Day 1: Eagle Rock Plaza is about a 2-mile walk away from my aunt's place, so we chose it as our first destination. It's pretty small, and its basement is stacked with Filipino people, shops, and fast foods. We had lunch at Jollibee, had my first Jolly Spaghetti in years, and you bet, I was in heaven. The mall also has Chowking, Goldilocks, Bench and a huge grocery store racked with Filipino goods. It's like strolling in Megamall on a random Sunday morning. Then off we go to Universal Studios after lunch. It was only the four of us, but we had fun, nonetheless. Super bonding time.


Jolly Spaghetti; Universal Studios overlooking San Bernardino; Bagets Reunion with Hailey
Day 3: Hollywood Blvd. We just cruised through it, kodak-ed here and there then left immediately. Had dinner at Max's Restaurant shortly after, with my parents' old classmates and the rest of the family. Sarap ng Crispy Pata, super na-miss ko!

Day 4: Off to Rancho Sta. Margarita to visit our favorite cousins. Traffic and travel time are torture but it was all worth it upon seeing our first pamangkin. Then to Irvine to visit a friend, and back to LA to celebrate Tita Tess' birthday.

Day 5: Then the actual celebration. It wasn't really a huge party, just family and some friends. My ninang from Fresno came over, and a few others. We also watched the Pacquiao match altogether, and you can only imagine how bizarrely exuberant their celebratory cheers were after the 15-minute payperview. Quite expensive, 'no? But whatever. After seeing the fight, and the priceless look on that rich boxer's face, I finally realized why it was so important for Filipinos to support this boastful man. No matter how yabang he gets, he still bleeds for the country, so there, I couldn't help but go patriotic and appreciative. Parang hindi bagay, 'no.

Day 6: Sunday, church day. After mass, we decided to eat In-n-Out for lunch, my first time! My people who've been in LA forever have been bragging about their burger for the longest time, so why not give it a try. But for real, it didn't taste any special. It's good, but the fries were even better. I still prefer Sonic's, and Whataburger's. But you know what's the best burger I've tasted? Tropical Hut's junior classic. Yep, that one back in the Philippines. To die fuckin' for! I'd give up a year without internet just to have one branch here in Texas. PLEASE!!! Branch internationally!!!

Day 7: It was all about Vegas. We left around noon, and arrived at about 4pm. Checked in at Aladdin, changed clothes and had dinner at Buffet @ Asia, then strolled the strip until 11pm. Papa and Auntie Rose still managed to go the Casino downstais and guess what? My dad won ten times his capital. Hahaha, I wish I had his powers. Woke up fairly early, had brunch at Spice Market Buffet, shopping at Prim, then back to LA before midnight.


Strolling the strip with Bo and Han; Breakfast camwhorage with Hailey; Thanksgiving beerfest
Day 7: Rodeo Drive. I wasn't really expecting to see a celebrity since it's like a tourist spot now more than anything, but I saw a couple, a B-list and a G-list, I guess, hehe. I was in the same elevator ride as Jon Lovitz, and I was standing next to Eugena of ANTM Cycle 7 in the valet parking. Seriously, of all the celebrities in the world, I got to see those two. How lucky!

Day 8: Thanksgiving. I really don't prefer celebrating tradional American holidays, but whatev, it was all in good fun. I almost did nothing that day though. Just rested, fixed my suitcase, and drank a little. And ate my Chowking siomai to go.

Day 9: Back to Eagle Rock Plaza for Black Friday. It was my first time to shop at Macy's, and boy do they have quality clothes there. Too bad I only got one piece because of my luggage space left, and this sweater I badly wanted had no tag on it that I couldn't bring it home. Eff it! Good thing there was Jollibee for lunch, I was calmed. Hahaha! Then Kristine Hermosa and Anne Curtis invaded the Filipino grocery. I happen to be an avid viewer of these Tagalog soap operas, but I never intend to be a so-called fan of theirs to actually line up and ask for their autographs. My mom, my aunt and my cousin were otherwise. They like Anne so much that they just had to squeeze into the day-off crowd and take pictures. Then guess what. This random manong comes up to me and says, "maputi lang sila, at may make-up, mas maganda ka pa sakanila, magpapayat ka lang", hahaha, the old guy just had to compliment this fatgirl to vent out his frustrations of not getting his poster signed. Nambola pa! Bwiset.

Day 10: We went to Griffith Park the previous night to see the light show which was jampacked that it got us home at around 10pm. Went to bed at almost midnight, woke up at 3am, to the airport and left Los Angeles at 6:15. What a crazy hour to fly. Seriously. But for some reason, it was a huge relief to see good ol' Texas again. Such a breath of fresh air.

Can you imagine, it's been two weeks, exactly this time, since the time that I was enjoying McDo's famous fries, waiting for boarding time en route to LAX. Man, how time flies so damn fast. Holidays are here, the ones I normally celebrate. Then I turn a year older, and funtimes will soon be over.

Weekstartrants.

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

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

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

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

Mi Mama Drama

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

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

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

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


Happy Birthday, Mama!

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.

Love Handles

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

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

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

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

Ermm, politely frank?

If anything in my life has significantly changed over the years, apart from my nicotine exit, it's gotta be my intractable exclusive-girl-school-mean-bitch-syndrome. I didn't grow up with girls mostly surrounding me, but I did hang out with mostly girls in my early years. That said, panlalait or ridiculing has been a habitual pastime for me and my peers. And having a mom who's just as leniently direct rather tolerated my hostile tongue.

In that particular part of the intermediate community, mockery, sarcasm, and panlalait are altogether their 3rd language. You can ask anybody who hail from Poveda, MC, SPC, etc., and I guarantee you, they'd absolutely agree. Maybe because boys weren't obviously around that they had to keep themselves entertained by making fun of the other girls. I still don't know. But although it was somewhat fun, I knew it had to eventually change.

And since I've already put that negative trait in perspective, I'm now in the process of learning how to politely say something unpleasant to people. I know, still sounds bad, but trust me, my intentions are better than that.

For instance, I've got this friend who bought a Paris Hilton perfume, and I think it smells like shit. How can I tell him that it smells awful in a way that he'd never get offended? Should I go, "man, that just stinks!", or "I can't believe you bought this over the Britney one"? Apparently, I'm still in the midst of unattaching my character to that mean girl syndrome, therefore, I can't believe I'm having such a hard time figuring out this simple "dude, you smell incredibly bad" predicament.

And before I get sued or anything, the Paris Hilton perfume situation is just a concrete example. But you know what I mean. It's simply a mere situation when you want to tell a good friend that his new haircut looks like a horrible version of Garth Algar's... and of course, the dilemma that inescapably comes with it.

Honestly, it's just one of the million things trapped in my mouth that I would want to lay all out in the future. But I don't know how! It's not a self-centered gesture though, right? Or is it? I just thought it'd be nice if I could be my old forthright self again, just with a little bit more tact and ethics this time. If I may sound like an inconsiderate narcissistic bitch, I apologize. That's far off what I'm gunning for. Nobody's perfect, who is? But as someone who exists in the same air as my pals breathe in, I can only have nothing but good intentions of sincerely just wanting them to look, smell, speak, think and feel better about themselves.

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 (:

Instead of a pot session.

Just when I thought I would never get absorbed by this Korean-telenovela-craze, there I was, swimming in tears while ensnaring the romanticism of Winter Sonata on AZN a few months back. Seriously. It's that overwhelming. And so, upon learning my overflowing adoration for this certain drama series, Kuya Richard immediately lent me his season of Endless Love, another Korean chuvaloo. Mama and I sat through it in 3 days, and boy were our eyes brownish swollen like rotten bananas. Hahahaha! My reputation of a toughie is officially ruined. I'm a hopeless romatic after all! *kaching-kaching in my eyes*

Without failure, I have switched back to the dutiful movie-goer that I am. Expensive, but seemingly satisfying. Apart from these, I managed to see a couple more this week (including WTC), and I'm planning on checking out 3 more in the coming days. I'm not doing anything else anyway, and I never plan on munching some weed stuffed brownies just so I won't get bored. Movies, and television, are a good way to go. Besides, they're never boring. Follow my lead! (;

And BTW. It's been three years since my last blunt. I'm such a good girl. Thank you Papa God!