Monday, February 27, 2006

Getting Hitched

So yeah, my brother's getting married next month. It still hasn't sunk in that much, but I guess everything will hit me all at once when I see him I-do-ing blah blah blah in front of the judge.

Yes, I did cry when he told me. I cried because...I don't know, it was all mixed emotions. I cried because I realized he's not a kid anymore. That he's leaving the house to set up camp somewhere else. (That's really hard for my mom and sisters because there'd be nobody to open jars or replace light bulbs.) I cried because I think he still has so much left to accomplish, that he's too young. I cried because he will be subjected to the pits and falls a family man experiences. And he hasn't even traveled outside the country, or even Boracay, for the love of everything that's holy.

But all that's secondary. The first thing that entered my mind when he told me is really, "Oh my God, my brother has a sex life?"

There's Something Up Your Ass

A stick, probably.

Maybe a whole corn on the cob?

I don't know, you tell me.

But you probably don't know either. So let me tell you this. Pathetic is spelled P-A-T-H-E-T-I-C. Look it up.

Thursday, February 23, 2006

For the Love of Jessica

I was tagged by Jessica of the Adonis Gels, so here, ten random things about myself (as if the 100 weren't enough):

1. During my lifetime, I only had two serious artista crushes-Ian Veneracion (when I was 13) and now Dennis Trillo.
2. I'm freaked out by chickens and birds, I always imagine they would peck my eyes out.
3. I wanted to have thin arms for as long as I can remember.
4. There are days that I actually think of pushing people down the stairs at the MRT station. Or blowing up every Jollibee and McDonald's I see. I might need help.
5. I secretly daydream of winning a 150 million peso jackpot in the lottery, and what I would do with the money. But I don't bet at all.
6. My blood runs cold when I think of the possibility of an epidemic or a war here in the Philippines.
7. I watch the Jerry Springer show, just to marvel at the wonderful thing that is fighting on national TV.
8. I subject myself to quicksand situations, mainly because of hedonist tendencies.
9. I get sleepy looking at leather bound books with gold letterings.
10. I want to have a little baby boy.

Wednesday, February 22, 2006

I Really Need to Get This Off my Chest

Print ad models are supposed to be pleasing to the eye. In general, they should possess features that would make you want to buy what they're selling, or at least admire how good they look in the ad.

They're not supposed to invoke feelings of hatred, neither should they make you feel like hitting people at random. Seeing them should not make you gag, retch, or at least utter a mandatory "What the fuck?" upon laying eyes on them.

All that being said, the bottomline is why is that guy on billboards hawking Hang Ten underwear?

I thought I have seen the last of him when they took down the billboard on Katipunan. Last I heard they put it back. Now the Gods of Unfairness are smiling down upon the commuters of EDSA, because a variation of that ad, with the same (ugh) model (ugh ugh), has been put up near the Kamuning station of the MRT. And I have to see it everyday on my way to the saltmines.

Every morning I remind myself not to look, don't look, just close your eyes, but I keep forgetting the exact moment I'm supposed to block it all out and then BAM! I see him again. It's bad enough that I have to focus on him wearing underwear, then I had to look at his face.

Monday, February 20, 2006

Kill Me (Working Title), a.k.a. I Have an Axe in my Skull

Right now there is somebody inside my head pound-pound-pounding with a bludgeon, determined to crack my skull. He's been at it for 24 hours now, and there is no negotiating with the bastard. I can't tell you how I know this, but I think he wants my soul. And I'm quite ready to give it to him if this continues.

I downed, in dangerous quantities paracetamol, ibuprofen, and mefenamic acid, but he spit on my face. I put ice on my temples, pulled on my hair, massaged my head, inhaled herbal concoctions, and even tried throwing up. The pounder inside just laughed maniacally.

I don't know what triggered it, although I can probably list a few:

1. Impending hormones.
2. I hit my head (really hard, and it really hurt) on the door of the cab on the way to my brother's pamanhikan. I was expecting to see blood streaking down my face.
3. My brother's pamanhikan.
4. I watched TV the whole day until late at night yesterday not wearing my eyeglasses.
5. I ate a lot of macadamia nuts.
6. All of the above, resulting to one killer migraine.

Now I'm dying, either from this headache or from drug overdose.

Just come to the funeral.

Friday, February 17, 2006

Customer Service is not Their Specialty

At the travel agency:

Me: Excuse me, is this where I book for {some third world country}?
Travel Agent named Joy: {in a really rude way, and not looking at me} Hinde!
Me: Ay ganon, so sino po kaya ang in charge sa {third world country}?
Joy: {still not looking in my general directior} Tanong mo na lang sa kanila!
Me: Alam mo hindi dapat Joy ang pangalan mo eh, Bitter! Bitter!

Thursday, February 09, 2006

This Could Be Me

Except that I'd be fatter. And with stretchmarks. The ugly dark violet kind.

At least my breasts would be fabulous.

Tuesday, February 07, 2006

Insanity, not Temporary

I don't know why, but lately I've been wanting one of this.

Maybe it has something to do with my age? Most of my friends are married and bore mutants already, even Aline. Yes, Aline beat me to it. She just gave birth to a little boy mutant last month. Fretzel has two. Eryan, a friend of mine who possesses absolutely zero fat cells, has one. My cousin, who's like 18, has one. A neighbor's kid has one. Even our street cat Kuruchan has just exploded, leaving two kittens when the smoke has settled. Suddenly I notice every pregnant woman and every chubby little kid around me.

What is wrong with me? Why do I consciously desire to have a little person come out of me? When I know that this little person would be selfish and demanding with utter disregard of other people's body clocks. It would have to be fed, clothed, loved unconditionally. And it would be a lifetime commitment, but I'm ok with that.

Monday, February 06, 2006

Another Reason for my Fat Cells to Rejoice

I finally got a TV in my room. It was not without a price -- specifically, ten thousand bucks. I had to get a new unit for the house, if I'm to get the old one. It's really neat to have a TV for yourself, you don't have to worry that other people in the house won't like what you're watching, and hell, nobody's gonna want that remote except me.

That remote is mine! Mine! Mine! {Manic laughter}


So I set it up with the DVD player and proceeded to weed through my To Watch pile. I realized that most of the movies on that pile screams Not for Men, so B and I settled for uh-huh, Basic Instinct and Killing Me Softly. You're not allowed to guess why, but it has nothing to do with Sharon Stone not wearing underwear.

Sunday was mostly spent searching for the most comfortable position while going through leftover junk food and the occasional fight for leg space. Sometimes we're profound enough to discuss amicably who's going to turn the volume up or down.

Yeah, my hips are suing me as I type this.

Friday, February 03, 2006

For More Information Please Hit Your Head on the Wall

Don't you hate it if you're asked to do something that is, sure, doable -- but only if you've got a little more information about it to get you started.

If you have read The Devil Wears Prada, that's exactly the thing I'm talking about. The order "Pick up my car and then drop off Madeleine at my apartment" is not impossible to carry out, if you know where's the damn car and who is Madeleine.

I don't want to face every single task as something Robert Brown would write about. I can take a challenge every now and then, but when it's as mundane as scratching my back, it really doesn't have to be a mystery, does it?