You Never Know What You’re Gonna Get

I was having a nice day.

First, I got my hair cut and colored (thank you Schwarzkopf) so now it doesn’t look like a possum sat on my head to die. When before tufts of dry and coarse red hair would stick out and do what they please (sometimes they wake up ahead of me), now my hair is an even color and actually looks like hair. The color and treatment they used was all organic and ammonia-free so it didn’t sting on my scalp.

Next, I went to get a mani/pedi and footspa so that my hooves match my glistening horns, with less calluses of course. The manicurist was a delight, she really shoveled on the polish – my fingers actually feel heavier now. Maybe she was in a hurry to finish that bottle. I think it would take me 7 cotton balls soaked in polish remover to get the goo off.

Then I went to Spirals at Sofitel for a meeting/dinner. Lovely company and lovely food. Hello food. Hi food. Food, come to me. Best sukiyaki ever. Their chocolate chip cookies are the best, beating Shangri-La Boracay’s by a mere .1 point.

Then finally I get home, stepped out of the cab and straight into a very dirty puddle. The kind that is stinky and almost gooey. Ewww yuck ewww. Life is not like a box of chocolates, more like Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans.

And oh yeah, Igor left.

Who Should I Kill?

Who died and made you in charge of the sites I can and cannot access? The rest of the world can access the .com page while I, I who owns and updates this page, is blocked from accessing it. I can only update and approve comments, and I would like the time to tell the commenters that I’m sorry I can’t reply because of this little problem called I CAN’T FREAKING ACCESS MY OWN WEBSITE.

And to answer your question, yes I do know the mighty unemployed males in the neighborhood. They are nice to us since they are somekinda afraid of roomie’s father. Heh. And the coffeeshop is Seattle’s Best, which I prefer over Starbucks whenever I have to kill time in Greenbelt. It’s more spacious and there are less uhm, people for rent, if you know what I’m saying.

Meanwhile, I’ve imported everything to here.

Folded

Hah! Google fixed things now so it’s back at the .com again. Apparently, when you have redirection problems all you have to do is close the computer, go out and have dinner and movie with your friends.

I gave up with trying to reload the page every 5 minutes to see if it would be working again, and we saw A Night at the Museum 2. It was fine — I’m not a big fan of Ben Stiller, his previous movies trained me to wince whenever I see him. Hank Azaria was hilarious as the wronged Egyptian pharaoh. Amy Adams was not as enchanting this time as Amelia Earheart. It was entertaining but there were some parts that got me really sleepy. I don’t know if that was the movie or something I ate.

The other day Giff and I watched BFF, that movie with Sharon and Ai-Ai. I don’t know what I was expecting from the movie but it had its moments. Ai-Ai was the funny one of course, and Sharon’s breakdown scene was what you would expect from her – restrained and utterly convincing. What? I like Sharon. Maybe the script could have been better? I don’t know. It was funny, but could be funnier I suppose.

And in the meantime, I’m having Harry Potter fever once again. I just watched the first five installments in two days, and I can’t wait for the next one. Although I might have to read it again if only I could find the book. In the year 1999 I read The Philosopher’s Stone, Chamber of Secrets, and Prisoner of Azkaban in two weeks, way before it became famous in the Philippines. I wanted to be in Hogwarts.

When the first movie was made. I remember asking my friend inside the moviehouse to hold my hand when the first scenes were shown. It was that special to me. I liked that J.K. Rowling actually drafted backgrounders for all characters and a storyline for all seven books. And I especially loved the fact that it made people read again.

I’m So Yelling at Google

For some idiotic reason, I can’t access my site from the .com URL, so I reverted to the old blogspot address. It cannot be that it has already expired, that’s not happening in a few months yet. Meanwhile I’m looking at the FAQs but the solutions they provided there are not working for me. Now, who in Google can I scream at to get this working again?

It’s Like When Unicorns Gather

I’m posting this because in this picture, and only in this picture, I look better than Rhian Ramos who’s behind me.

Photo by Nickie Wang, Nestea Victory Party 2009.

Someone Should Be Made to Pick Up a Bar of Soap in Prison

Sex videos of Hayden Kho with different women have been seen by almost everybody and his cousin, and are probably Hayden’s VIP tickets to hell. What in psycho hell was he even thinking, secretly videotaping his private affairs AND leaking it? What can he possibly gain from all these? That he’s a god? That he can get these beautiful women into bed with him? A true mark of a very insecure person.

Several people and their families have already been hurt by those videos, and there’s talk of even more. I have seen the first three and seriously, those girls should just go up to Hayden, cut off his thing with the tool of their choice (I recommend a Gillette blade so it’s sloooow), chop it while he’s watching, and feed it to him through the nose. The open wound should be addressed with salt and vinegar. Personally, I would give the honor of rubbing the salt and pouring the vinegar on the castrated area to the Modess endorser. Girls, just because the whole country saw you doing the deed with that idiot doesn’t mean you’re less human or anything like that. You were just unfortunate enough to know Hayden.

I hope he goes to jail for this, or his license revoked, or whatever would make him suffer most. And oh yeah Hayden, YOU HAVE A SMALL PEEN. Loser.

This Was Not the Spark I Was Looking For

The other day my roommate and I were just hanging out in the living room, a rare moment of togetherness. My day usually begins after lunch, when she’s already halfway through her workday. Igor just left for her day off, so it was just the two of us catching up on office gossip (hers) and showbiz gossip (YouTube and Careless Whisper).

We were entranced by the Dance of the Glowballs when we heard a loud spark and a flash of light coming from a corner in the ceiling. We were all what the fuck, then the glowballs were saying something about someone that’s hot so we went back to that for a bit. So we were just there, YouTube-ing and talking and watching The Buzz for a bit, when the flash of light and spark combo appeared again.

I didn’t want to say it as I was afraid it was actually real, but roomie beat me to it: did that scary light come from the tangle of wires up there? Meaning, were we about to deal with electricity? I am dead scared of being electrocuted; in fact I’ve been lighting up my room with a desk lamp for over a month now because I WILL NOT TOUCH THE LIGHTBULB. The other reason would be that I can’t reach it, but even if I can, I don’t have the courage to unscrew the dead one from the socket and replace it. If anyone out there would be so kind, please, to help me, I would most appreciate it.

Our apartment is really old and while it has been “freshened” up before we moved in, the old wiring is still in place. I won’t deny that there are probably mice out there, somewhere in the deep recesses of this ancient box, and are responsible for chewing the wires. We turned off the main switch to totally cut off all electricity.

Strong-willed we may be, but this is just beyond our powers. We needed help, so we called on the mighty unemployed males who usually lounge on the street. Yes, they can tell if a fuse was busted. Me, I can’t tell what a fuse is. It was getting dark and they couldn’t see so they asked for a flashlight. We don’t have any, we told them, can we use our phones for light? No, we can’t. Then I remembered I do have a flashlight!

I went up to my room and retrieved it but it doesn’t have batteries, so we emptied out the remote controls and voila, it worked! I gave it to them to use, proud of my little accomplishment. Shortly after I handed it over, I heard them laughing.

“Di po namin to magagamit.”
“Baket? Umiilaw naman ah.”
“May drowing eh.”

What? I got the flashlight, shone it to a wall to prove it was working, and there projected to the wall, was a giant caricature of a Disney Princess. The flashlight was from a McDonald’s party lootbag. I was about to entrust the safety of my home to a freaking party giveaway. Damn.

Let’s Blog Like my Life Depended on It

There used to be a time when I poured all my emotions in a single entry. That usually happens when I’m pretty pissed off, because when I’m happy I want to be out there to gallivant with my friends, short of shouting on the rooftops. But whenever I feel like life sucks major balls I rant like hell in my little virtual corner.

Lately that never happens, because life happens. Suffice it to say that my old life used to bore me out of my skull, with nothing better to do than blog. Now things are happening left and right, from up above and down under. I can’t keep up. When I have the time to keep up, I sleep instead.

Do you know what wonders sleeping can do for our mind and body? One, it recharges. There are days when I survive on 4-hour sleep and my aging body can hardly sustain me. Two, it replenishes my English words. Yes, I run out of them. Three, I can dream my outrageous dreams while sleeping. Daydreaming is reserved for those times I lay on a lounge chair looking out at the emerald waters of Boracay. Which means it’s over.

After a family day at High Street, where Joaquin dug up dirt and punched puppies and took a bath at the fountain, and Abby wore my mother’s heeled sandals and ran to and fro on the grass and did karate poses, I stayed behind to write at Starbucks Fully Booked. I almost chucked out my Sun Broadband modem so I won’t be tempted to connect to the Internet while writing. I resisted temptation so I was able to finish half of what I’m supposed to do. The Internet is a double-edged sword, where I bleed from both.

Now I’m having dinner alone at a Chinese restaurant waiting for 10pm so I can go to Mozzie’s practice. I know it’s a lofty ambition to hope to write there, but I WILL TRY. Dammit I will try. Tonight is an all nighter. Tomorrow I will watch Angels & Demons, Giff’s launching movie where he plays both.

Head On

I’m here at a coffee shop in Greenbelt, trying to organize my thoughts into comprehensible paragraphs and stuff that people can read. My brain is addled from lack of sleep and I think when I crashed into that wall earlier it wasn’t because the wall moved.

It’s too hot outside even when the sun is low on the horizon, and here inside it’s just the perfect temperature to grab a comforter and pillow and sink on the couch. Except there is no fluffy couch and this is a public place whose staff frowns upon people who nap in the shop.

Anyway, I have to go now. Pages have to be closed. Like I know how.

Summer Collage

I can’t keep up with what’s happening, so I’m posting this collage to remind myself that life is good and I have been so blessed. This is my summer. How’s yours?