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.
Sunday, March 8, 2009
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
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.
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.
Saturday, January 24, 2009
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
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
Saturday, January 17, 2009
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.
1. He's surrounded by books.
2. He's reading.
3. He has the time.
Sunday, December 28, 2008
license to kill
The past few days, I have been under a dignified cause of defending our house against the infiltration of the stupid, arrogant, world-domineering ants. Ugh, it’s serious; they’re getting on my nerves rather exceptionally. Heavens, they’re everywhere! I wouldn’t have minded it too much if only they had opted to keep their lame a$$es within the walls of the house, but no, the pompous beasts thought it even grandiose to extend their dominion over our FOOD –the food we eat – the food which I fight tooth and nail just to keep clean – the very same ones which these little brutes just stamped on sloppily. Were they nuts? Did they think that my food were some kind of a prairie they could stroll on anytime? The hell. $%^&*($#@
Seriously, I have never felt more murderous in my entire life than I do right now.
I’m currently striving to device ways –creative ways by which I could give the buggers a well-deserved vindictive death. Ant sprays are off the list since they’re not brutal enough. I want the ants to have, as much as possible, a slow agonizing painful death. With ant sprays, it’s an easy swift death – that’s too generous. So nope, not an option. Nevertheless, I’m open for suggestions.
Seriously, I have never felt more murderous in my entire life than I do right now.
I’m currently striving to device ways –creative ways by which I could give the buggers a well-deserved vindictive death. Ant sprays are off the list since they’re not brutal enough. I want the ants to have, as much as possible, a slow agonizing painful death. With ant sprays, it’s an easy swift death – that’s too generous. So nope, not an option. Nevertheless, I’m open for suggestions.
Monday, December 22, 2008
misleading
The trouble with statement shirts is that I can’t seem to stop myself from reading them. Even though it appears embarrassing to stare at one’s chest [it’s curious that the breasts’ area is perpetually the lucky/unlucky bearer of the inscriptions], my eyes will always always automatically wander to the part where the writing is. The worse thing is I’m not even attempting to be discrete about it. Most of the time, I will just stop and gawk openly to this woman’s shirt [or chest, it’s always there –the statement, I mean] and read the characters. If it’s the eyebrow-raising sort then I will impulsively move my gaze to the woman’s face and see if the statement dovetails with her…erm, appearance? state of being? look?
What, each of us is entitled to have our own brief periods of judge-y-ness and evilness =D
Like this particular incident that happened two or three weeks ago. I was inside the mrt on my way to the university when in came a lady wearing a pink shirt that says: [in all caps, bold, shining, shimmering, splendid letters] –HORNY.
HORNY
HORNY
HORNY
Uh-huh. HORNY. I wonder if she knew what that word meant. Or it’s just my naturally perverted thinking that automatically went to the gutter and assumed the green insinuation of the word. Because maybe the lady knew what “horny” was after all; perhaps to her, it’s simply the “state of having many horns”? [horns, horns, horns, horns = horny?] as opposed to what I initially thought to be the “state of being hormonal”. [hormones, hormones, hormones, hormones = horny?] Hahaha. Pragmatics.
For long minutes, I was just there explicitly gaping at her t-shirt [chest] with furrowed eyebrows and vast annoyance to the maker of the shirt, blaming whoever insipid creature he or she was for having that “majestic” idea of putting the statements at breast level. Seriously, he or she should have known that it would be exceedingly disconcerting for a girl like me to stare at another girl’s chest; not that I was perusing her boobs, [I have my own to stare at, thank you very much] it was the statement I was curious about, nothing more. Only the position was sending all the wrong signals. <_<
What, each of us is entitled to have our own brief periods of judge-y-ness and evilness =D
Like this particular incident that happened two or three weeks ago. I was inside the mrt on my way to the university when in came a lady wearing a pink shirt that says: [in all caps, bold, shining, shimmering, splendid letters] –HORNY.
HORNY
HORNY
HORNY
Uh-huh. HORNY. I wonder if she knew what that word meant. Or it’s just my naturally perverted thinking that automatically went to the gutter and assumed the green insinuation of the word. Because maybe the lady knew what “horny” was after all; perhaps to her, it’s simply the “state of having many horns”? [horns, horns, horns, horns = horny?] as opposed to what I initially thought to be the “state of being hormonal”. [hormones, hormones, hormones, hormones = horny?] Hahaha. Pragmatics.
For long minutes, I was just there explicitly gaping at her t-shirt [chest] with furrowed eyebrows and vast annoyance to the maker of the shirt, blaming whoever insipid creature he or she was for having that “majestic” idea of putting the statements at breast level. Seriously, he or she should have known that it would be exceedingly disconcerting for a girl like me to stare at another girl’s chest; not that I was perusing her boobs, [I have my own to stare at, thank you very much] it was the statement I was curious about, nothing more. Only the position was sending all the wrong signals. <_<
Sunday, December 21, 2008
Ooops on a tuesday
issa: omg, I see Sir XXXX
moi: Wahhh, where?
issa: Turn to your left...left left
moi: Sino siya diyan?
issa: Yung pasakay ng taxi, yung kalbo
moi: Alin yung red yung buhok?
issa: ---
<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<
LMAO.
That was a rather perfect dumbass moment. Excuse me for I was feeling a little scatterbrained and cramp-y then.
A sporadic Pentium 1 processing.
Forgive the mortal. =D
moi: Wahhh, where?
issa: Turn to your left...left left
moi: Sino siya diyan?
issa: Yung pasakay ng taxi, yung kalbo
moi: Alin yung red yung buhok?
issa: ---
<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<
LMAO.
That was a rather perfect dumbass moment. Excuse me for I was feeling a little scatterbrained and cramp-y then.
A sporadic Pentium 1 processing.
Forgive the mortal. =D
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