I Me Mom

What I love about my mom is that she finances my Beatles obsession. Mwahahahahaha :)

Queen Bee, Queen Bitch

(Para Kay Issa)


The girl is a bitch, I must tell you. But before somebody rips my head off for saying that, I urge you to read on so that I can explain myself, for I cannot have you (or Issa) think of me a back-stabbing friend now, can I?

The truth is, among us friends, there is nothing demoralizing or scandalous about the word “bitch.” If anything, it is an honest-to-goodness COMPLIMENT.

So, how is it like to be paid with that compliment? Well...

She is a lot of things, but being insincere is not one of them. If she loves you, she loves you…devotedly; if she hates you, she hates you…fatally (not that she is into physical violence, mind you).

She loves her family with passion –esteems her dad, respects her mom, adores her siblings. She talks about them with the greatest regard, and who wouldn’t when they laid for her all the groundwork of a morally-sensitive and highly-considerate rearing?

Then her extended family. Where do I start?

There is never a dull moment when she is around. Be it a simple detour to Mainlib just to have Canton, or a semi-planned vacation out of town –we would always always laugh. Together. With her.

*

I will not apologize for calling her a "bitch." Not when I mean it lovingly –not when "bitch," in this context, is just a shortcut to all of those fine qualities above, and MORE. =)

tragedy of it all

I just submitted my final requirement for this semester via email. Hit SEND, and voilà –kiss me, sembreak.

I remember the time when I made my first online submission. It was a reaction paper on Hamlet. I recall being so anxious that I didn’t realize I sent the paper five times (my professor told me so afterward). It was kind of embarrassing to be told off (though I’d like to believe that my professor was more amused than angry); but then again, better safe than sorry, right? :]

There’s something about online submission that always makes me nervous. At the very least, I take 15 minutes before I enter the email address of the professor; another 15 minutes to multiple-check it; a few more minutes to make sure that I’ll be attaching the right file; a minute to actually attach the file; additional 15 minutes to think about what to write on the note area (Here is my paper, Sir/Ma’am. / Should I be friendly? / It’s our last paper, should I say thanks? / Should I say how much I enjoyed the semester? / What if I didn’t? / Should I lie? / Or what the hell, can I just say nothing at all?! ); and if I did decide to say something for propriety’s sake, there must be 20 more minutes to check the grammar; and finally, a good extra 30 minutes to contemplate on whether to truly click the SEND button or not. In the end, after all of these perusing, how must I react should I realize that the tragedy is finding out that the professor DID NOT receive anything at all? Kill me now? Oh God.

But thankfully, that hasn’t happened to me yet; and that’s possibly why the whole process is all the more scary for me because it constantly makes me wonder when my dreaded first time is going to be. HA!

In every submission, there is a deadline –so the most important thing is that you submit the paper before the deadline; If you miss it, you’re dead (not really dead dead, but dead INComplete, or dead tres/cingco; I haven’t really heard of dead DROP but for all you know it might be possible –or dead KICK OUT though that’s probably going overboard). Therefore, if, in your worst luck, your professor failed to receive your paper –then Dear me, may you R.I.P.

Though, of course, you realize you can’t seriously die just yet. You will probably curse the computer, curse the internet, curse your e-mail, curse yourself, or curse your professor, but you can’t rest (certainly NOT in peace) unless you found a way to prove to your professor that you did send that paper on time. In any case, what a real bummer, no?

On Psychology

After today's lesson, I've concluded to myself that:

I don’t care how big the name of Sigmund Freud was. I think, albeit his genious, he was nevertheless a sick, embittered, EGOtistical chauvinist.
Seriously, penis envy? The nerve of him.

3-in1 plus 1, Happy Kaarawan!

By God, my friends are never boring. It doesn't even matter where we are (or what we eat) --we could be in AS-CAL pigging out on siomai or isaw, or we could stray far in the malls opting for Italian's --fun and madness would always be a given when I’m in the company of these kickass people. Like the other day we were all in Cubao to celebrate Aly and Chel’s bday. To say that the house party was FUN would be a SHAMEFUL UNDERSTATEMENT. Chel’s parents weren’t around, while Aaron a.k.a Chel’s indifferent brother couldn’t have cared less about what we were doing. In essence you could guess that the poor house was left at our mercy. R-A-W-R! Just imagine the kid from Home Alone, only we're a group instead of a kid --a group of rambunctious kids who would turn the house around by the time the adults get back. Real mature. ;)

Highlights of the night:


1. All together now :)



2. Cory and Ninoy?



3. The Impostors



4. Ewicka's Bukas Luluhod din ang mga Tala moment. First time to dishwash ng eredera HAHA :)



5. Stop piracy, you guys! :))




I, therefore, conclude that (1) we're a bunch of happy people (2) we're a bunch of happy, glutton people, and (3) we're a bunch of happy, glutton, pro-piracy people. Oh yeah, sue us.

???

Posting this just because it reminds me of Jed and Aly who laughed so hard at me when I wrote on the wall: You really turn me on. xoxo

What? I was quoting his lyrics! Get your mind out of the gutter, you! :]

wake up, sleepy!

I ought to die.

Three days ago, I did this criminal act of falling asleep in the middle of a class. I know this post might sound so exaggerated, worse yet pointless, but really! –sleeping in class, for me, is dishonorable, and rude, and tactless, and I swear to the tortoise in Galapagos that I didn’t do it on purpose. It’s just that I didn’t sleep at all the night before hence when I came to class that day, I friggin’ looked like Frankenstein’s long lost daughter, devoid of life, and blood, and sleep, and gorgeousness. Half of me was struggling to keep my eyes open, while the other half was tempting me to slouch somewhere, anywhere –so I could just sleep, if not die a temporary death (temporary because I expected I should be back on my feet the next day, fully-charged).

It happened in my Psychology class. Our lesson was on Multiple Personality Disorder; since our professor was feeling a little under the weather that day, she decided to just put on a documentary rather than conduct the usual teacher-in-front lecture setup. I was listening attentively at first; I really was! I could even tell you that a younger Sally Field was mentioned in passing as she played Sybil, the girl with MPD. Then thirty minutes later, at around 12 noon, while the tape was still playing, our professor left the room. My eyes were already drooping that time and no amount of self-pinching would shake off my drowsiness. Hence I closed my eyes with a promise to myself that I would readily open them again the minute the professor walked back in to the room. The only problem was when I opened them again, to my horror, it was already 12:55! TWELVE FIFTY FIVE!!! Fuck the stupid, useless, good-for-nothing clock. Only five more minutes left before dismissal. To add to my embarrassment, I saw my prof looking at me from the front and I just knew that she knew that I knew that I slept on her! Dear me, it was so embarrassing I wanted to jump out of the window, if only it wasn’t barred. I slept on a professor, holy crap! –a professor who teaches capably and one with an MA and a PhD to go with it. No decent soul sleeps on a professor with such powerful titles. People like them just don’t spend half of their lives studying only to be slept on by their students.

I am horrible.
I am mean.
I am rude.
I am appalling.
I am nasty.
I am disrespectful.
I am bad-mannered.
I am crude.
I am tacky.
I am disappointing.

I was sleepy.
I slept.
I did not mean to.



I am sorry. :(

spread the love, spread the virus

It’s quite a humiliation that I am the one getting a sore throat this time. All week long, I’ve been the one to pester and annoy my friends (three of them with the common fever + sore throat) that they’ve been hit with the A(H1N1) bug. To irritate them even further, I’ve always been the first to put out the alcohol when they’re around and make it known to their faces that they’re virus-carriers and ought to be avoided. Haha.

Of course they’re not really with the swine flu. I’ve just been having the greatest kick out of them –-it’s what great friends do, nay? I aggravate them, they retaliate, and that’s where the fun starts. It’s simply about playful bickering; sometimes it gets physical (what with the batukan, paluan and all) but nothing ugly that would send any of us to the emergency room of the infirmary. We love each other too much to inflict permanent damage, I suppose. :))

Nevertheless, driving each other barmy is still a mutually pleasurable deal to us all. So, when they had the fever and sore throat to boot, and I got to tease them to no end, I thought I was winning. Wrong. Because now that it’s my turn to have a sore throat, it gave my friends the orgasmic bliss for having the opportunity to get even with me. Durrr. Now, they’re laughing at me! Those smug little witches! Epic fail on my part, oh boohoo.

They got the last say –-Ara, particularly, got the last say:

"nel. pagtatawanan kita pag nagkasakit ka dahil promotor ka din sa pagkakalat na may swine flu kame!"

Why, nasty bitch*, hmpp. I could only hope this won't progress to a full-bloom flu.

------------

*bitch, over time, has become some sort of endearment among us. Nothing offensive, I assure you. :))

by extension

I hate cryptic posts; yet here I am, doing exactly that. Does that mean I hate myself, too?

Of course not! :)

CRS rocked!

Okay, so here again is my customary post about my enrollment and CRS. I WAS LUCKY –so damn lucky I got all my necessary subjects during the first run – FIRST RUN, imagine! It never happened to me before! And for that, I have nothing but love for the CRS Team. I love you, guys. More than words can wield the matter, dearer than eyesight, space, and liberty… Whoops, getting a tad carried away there. But seriously, while everybody (including most of my friends) was on the edge of resorting to violence and bloodshed just so they could have their heart-desired subjects, I was simply there consoling them but not without the air of my splendid SMUGNESS. Now it’s my turn to be the consoler rather than the consoled –and I liked it a lot. Wooot!

You see, our CRS team is a rather vile thing. It feeds on the miseries of the students; and for the past three years, I was one of its top victims. Durrr. I used to suffer fatally from having only two subjects out of my required six, so more often than not, I wound up doing the manual enlistment, other times e-prerog, both of which requiring non-human endurance and a barrel of patience: endurance and patience which I used to lack but eventually managed to master because of repeated experiences like waiting in long killer lines and standing for long killer hours. This semester, however, CRS, to my immense pleasure, was on my side, giving me all 15 units in one go! Yeehaw. Gratitude, CRS! ;)

nothing of grave importance

I’m simply enjoying this laid back Sunday. The weather is perfect. I guess the best way to make the most out of a rainy day is when you’re just at home lazing around, watching a cheesy movie or a silly sitcom, and making a pig out of yourself. Sigh. Yeah, I’ve been doing a lot of that as of late so consider yourself warned because the next time we meet I’d probably be sporting excess fats everywhere. My friend, in one of his brutally honest moods, even declared me ‘fat & bloated’ though I told him afterward that ‘adorably plump’ would be a better, more preferable, less tacky description. No?

Speaking of plump, the other day I was watching Bridget Jones’ Diary, though it was hilarious in general, I still couldn’t help but cringe every time she’s represented as this brainless-pretending-to-be-brainy, sex-crazed, miserable singleton, smoker, and alcoholic whose trip was to parade around in her knickers while running after this aloof, overbearing yet exceptionally hot bloke. That somehow sent my indignation flaming because not every female is silly like Bridget. Although I admit I was impressed by Renee Zellweger. How the fuck did she do that looking so sickeningly glamorous despite the fats? She put the bulimic, insect-thin models of runways to shame, honestly! Durrr…

lalala

Sharing this adorable video with that adorable animation.
And the song --well, it's from THE BEATLES, need I say more?

mindless musing and not

What do you think is the best way to please my mom?


a. for once, should I wake up early? (maybe it would make her happy to know that her daughter's body clock is not hopelessly abnormal)

b. bear hug

c. sexy lingerie

d. how about cleaning the house? (though my mom would not be tricked into believing this as long as our housekeeper is here)

e. erm, male stripper/s? (what and never mind my dad? this is suicide, I'm telling you)

f. breakfast in bed (that is, if I could get up in time for *breakfast*)

g. c and e (suicidal again)

h. I'm feeling generous --all of the above

i. oh, to hell with mothers' day --none of the above!



*******

Still,

HAPPY MOTHERS' DAY!!!

The truth is, I don't have anything up my sleeve other than that bear hug above; but that doesn't make my greeting to my mom any less sincere and loving than if, by any chance, I really have that sexy lingerie for a gift.

for the header

I have a new header! A little nod to Wendy Cope. Before today, Being Boring is first a title of her poem from the book, If I Don't Know (2001). I realize that Mrs. Cope is someone who is very very (like super!) spiky when it comes to copyright infringement; and I could possibly get myself into trouble for what I am about to post. But please, please, please. Allow me to do this, just this one time. Ok? Don’t sue me. I’m just a penniless university student, who’s got nothing but a charming face to support myself should the responsible authority decide to take the legal action. So,

On with the poem:

If you ask me 'What's new?', I have nothing to say
Except that the garden is growing.
I had a slight cold but it's better today.
I'm content with the way things are going.
Yes, he is the same as he usually is,
Still eating and sleeping and snoring.
I get on with my work. He gets on with his.
I know this is all very boring.

There was drama enough in my turbulent past:
Tears and passion-I've used up a tankful.
No news is good news, and long may it last,
If nothing much happens, I'm thankful.
A happier cabbage you never did see,
My vegetable spirits are soaring.
If you're after excitement, steer well clear of me.
I want to go on being boring.

I don't go to parties. Well, what are they for,
If you don't need to find a new lover?
You drink and you listen and drink a bit more
And you take the next day to recover.
Someone to stay home with was all my desire
And, now that I've found a safe mooring,
I've just one ambition in life: I aspire
To go on and on being boring.

Light verse poems are cool. They're gay, and humorous, and fairly understandable by mere mortals.

bulilit, bulilit

Tell me that I am not the only one who finds the kid in this commercial so adorably cute.

Awwww, this has got to be one of my favorite commercials to date. :)

It's a very appealing ad, methinks. Smart choice of concept. It's not forgettable and senseless, unlike some others. Catchy jingle, too. The first time I heard of it, I had the most terrible case of LSS; although I had to be careful when around friends because had they heard me singing that 'bulilit, bulilit song', I knew, with every microscopic cell in my body, that they wouldn't let me live long after that --By God, I would be a laughingstock! And I would possibly lose my respectability, in effect. haha.

"Bulilit, bulilit
sanay sa masikip
kung kumilos kumilos
ang liit-liit
buliit
kung kumilos
ang liit liit..."

My suggestion is if you're in a pissy mood, try seeing this commercial. It drives away the negative energies, ay. It works for me. So the next time I get into another battle royal with my brother, I could always go to youtube, watch this commercial over and over again, until I could finally dupe myself into thinking that, perhaps, by some sort of miracle, my brother would be as well-behaved as the 'bulilit' here. :D

My fingers are crossed.

I don't mean to be crappy

I'm in this tragic phase wherein everything I write is crap. Not that I haven’t been writing crap before, but I think I write crap now more than I ever did in the past. And in my logic, that makes me a crappy person.

Really, there are a lot of not-crappy things happening to me lately. So, it makes me wonder how come I still can’t find something not-crappy to write about even if, as I’ve said, I have too many not-crappy happenings to choose from.

Oh crap, I wish I’m not this crappy person, who writes crappily.

At any crappy rate, I think, deep down, I really know the reasoning behind this new crappy me. Here’s the thing: it's not solely about me being crappy, but me being lazy. I complain about crappy writing but the truth is it's majorly that way because of my lazy thinking. The more I become lazy, the more I become crappy. I write crappily because I think lazily. So you see, I'm crappy because I'm lazy. I can be not-crappy if only I choose to be not-lazy. Ergo, if only I can get pass the sodding laziness, I’m pretty certain I can get rid of the sodding crappiness.

Until then, bear with me, please do.

two of us

I was hugely delighted when, only a week ago, I found a new Beatle-buddy in Jed. Yesss! About time to have a new friend I could go ‘fangirl-ing’ moment with. She saw my laptop and was pleasantly surprised to find my music library full of Beatles songs. Hah! So after that melodramatic revelation that indeed, we did, and still do share a fixation for the four British chaps, we couldn’t (wouldn’t) shut up for how many hours –-we're just there getting all giddy, comparing songs and favorites, conveniently neglecting the fact that we're supposed to be paying attention to the professor speaking in front of ourclass rather than doing that monkey business of ours.

**

Anyhow, these previous weeks I also noted some of my Beatles encounters here, there, and everywhere. They’re the most ordinary things yet they still managed to give me the warm fuzzies every time. Awww. :))


1. In the mall with mom. Entered Toby’s, then lo and behold: A Hard Day’s Night album was playing! Bless that shop for having a taste.

2. One of my professors made our class do a discourse analysis of ‘She’s Leaving Home.’ Additional perk when she related to us her experience of being in the Beatles’ concert here in Manila way way way way way way way way way way way way back. Lucky woman, that one.

3. Caught grandfather whistling ‘Twist and Shout.’ He denied it afterwards.

4. I saw an incredibly cute guy wearing an equally cute Lennon shirt. Oh dear, what a turn-on.

5. Came across Miley Cyrus’ twitter account. Her layout is that of Lennon’s face. Hmm, even if I couldn’t stand this girl, I guess I should give her props for having the best taste in music, yes?

**In this regard, I am dangright confident I would eagerly sell myself to the dark side if only I could witness (live!) a Beatles’ concert. Jed would do the same, am sure.

the crabby crab

I’m up against nature. I hate the weather. stupid summer. inconsiderate sun. despicable heat.

Oh yes, I'm this teed off that even the existence of a defenseless, non-talking sun I blame.

commercial break

I flare up every time I see this commercial.

Duh.

How could some people be so daft as to portray a woman as looking so shallow that her happiness depends entirely upon a pair of shoes? Seriously. I'd like to believe that women are more sensible than that.

it could have been worse

What a delight that my registration day this time around didn’t take away every ounce of patience present in my sexy body, as it usually did in the past. Even CRS was fairly generous in giving me all the necessary subjects by the end of the second run. Assessment was taking eons to finish; but that’s a hard fact that one just have to learn to accept overtime, along with the realization that it won't be changing anytime soon –and I did, so I’d really rather not rant about it; besides, my friends were there to keep me company while I was cooling my heels, so that’s fine. The payment cue at PNB was normally lengthy, but the movement of the line was surprisingly swift; so that’s fine again. Really, my day could have been worse; thankfully, it wasn’t. In fact, I was able to finish the whole enrollment process at around two o’clock. That’s already a mighty feat for me considering that I’ve had worse fates before where one day wasn’t enough and I still had to come back to the university the following day.


Nevertheless, the whole falling in line and waiting strain still left me famished all the same (as it would any normal stomach.) So at around four o’clock, when my friends and I were all done with the registration and payment, we hit the mall a.k.a Trinoma. We couldn’t agree to a common place to dine, so in the end, Ronn had to play the leader and decide for the group. He wanted BK, so BK it was for us. There were eleven of us in the table and I could only imagine how scandalized the other customers must have felt seeing a group so large, so noisy, and soo…good-looking :P

the truth of the matter

It is a scandal to let so much time slip without posting anything here.

And scandal it will remain at least for a few more weeks to come. Gahhh.

How demanding life could get.

the vain, self-centered leader

im in the middle of a serious, inescapable crisis these days. so many things to do, so little time. im very tired (so much so that i brush off the proper use of punctuation?! and CAPITALIZATION, do you notice?) and yet that does not even begin to scratch the surface of how beat i was yesterday. i was so darn ear my point of blowup then, hence the need for a break. but when i did so, i wished it was otherwise.

whatever possessed me to take the blasted "Dr. Phil's Personality Test" in facebook. <_<

why, i was called as:


The Vain, Self-Centered Leader

Others see you as someone they should "handle with care." You're seen as vain, self-centered, and who is extremely dominant. Others may admire you, wishing they could be more like you, but don't always trust you, hesitating to become too deeply involved with you.

reaction: wow, am i really that rotten a person? awesome.

huh?

Maybe it has something to do with the occasion today, or perhaps I just woke up at the wrong side of the bed; either way, it still seems largely miraculous that here I am creating a new post after a looooooooooong period of hiatus.

self to self: “Oh hey, you have a blog, darling, remember? Somehow, that needs updating!”


+#+#+#+#+#+#+#+#+#+#+#+#+#+#+#+#

What's with today?


My birthday –& let me count up all the things I love about it:


1. I have no reason to entertain the possibility of malnourishment because birthday means food. Plenty of them. I can be as stuffed as I want to be. Diet be damned.

2. I can have my room at its dirty worst without hearing a single chastise from my mother. Though I have to remind myself that such tolerance from her is only valid for 24 hours.

3. Everybody’s nice to me. HAHAHA. Terms of endearments are simply overflowing –darling, dear, dearest, dearie, love –oh I adore’em all! They give off an impression as if I’m the nicest person on the planet. [feeds my ego, really, haha]

4. I can play any song that I want while in my mother’s car without her side-commenting that I have a “weird, corny choice of songs”. [She finds it queer that I obsess over the old old old songs more so than I do with the contemporary ones.]

5. It’s the fact that my elementary friends still greet me and remember my birthday.

6. To celebrate birthday is to celebrate comment-flooding in friendster, multiply, facebook and plurk.

7. I can wish for this and that and still my parents won’t complain. [that is as long as I don’t ask for a car or marriage blessing, then we’re all good]

8. People in the house turn lovey-dovey towards me: hugs, kisses, birthday wishes everywhere. Wow, I’m like: “Spoil me more, people! Come on!”

9. The tv remote control is entirely mine, and for once, my brother can’t do anything about it.

10. It’s when the night before I can’t shake off the feeling of dread when I ask myself “what if nobody remembers my birthday tomorrow?”; then only to wake up the morning after and find out that my inbox is flooded with birthday messages. Heart-warming at that. =D

+#+#+#+#+#+#+#+#+#+#+#+#+#+#+#+#

So, yes, cheers ^_^

Happy Birthday to me. I'm glad I exist :D

green with

What I envy the most about this kid (whom I saw inside a bookshop) :

1. He's surrounded by books.
2. He's reading.
3. He has the time.