Kitty Litter

Was at Powerbooks Greenbelt 4 yesterday for the first pre-launch activity of our magazine, Wedding Essentials (will link once the bug has been fixed). Both Polar Bearball and I enjoyed the wedding hints and tips, and I realized how horribly difficult it is to run a wedding. Not easy at all :(

By the way, everyone is invited to our launch activity! It's going to be in December, and I'll post the details here. So much fun, and the catering is by BIZU cakes (oooh, nuummmmyyy), so come on over!

In between mini-seminars, we browsed through the books at Powerbooks. I managed to devour an entire book on forensics, and I learned a lot. Who says you stop learning once out of school? I think I stayed in UP to keep learning, as I love learning new things (as opposed to sitting in class, but that's another story altogether). Such as: suicides usually remove hats, coats, and glasses before the attempt . That Jesus's body was mutilated after he was dead (the piercing of his side with a spear) because a Roman centurion was annoyed that he'd died quickly instead of the usual, oh, 3-6 days. That I can look at corpses in photos but not "in person."

After dinner with friends and my boss, the Beautiful Bee, we caught a fireworks display, and I oohed and ahhed like a little girl. Fireworks never fail to enthrall me, and I see no logic in wasting time and money on firecrackers. (Fireworks: pretty, sparkly things in the sky; firecrackers: loud, noisy, pointless) I held Polar Bearball's hand and he pulled me in to snuggle up to him. Unlike some exes I've had, he doesn't mind my childlike (not childish, though that applies sometimes) tendencies, and he watches me blow bubbles, watch fireworks, and talk baby-talk. What's more, he joins in! ^_^

(And for those who are annoyed/amused by Amanuensis, and have emailed/texted me for more, sorry, no sample this time. But here's something funny: he tried to fire me last Friday. I found it hilarious because he's not my boss, and speaking of Cool Boss, I think he may just be coming to the end of his rope. I've realized one thing about Amanuensis: he is stupid rather than malicious...and somehow, that's worse. How do you argue with stupid?)

Labels: small happy things

Thanks to Eric, Mela, Kate, and those who sent in their thoughts for the "Why do you blog?" entry. ^_^ Yay, I have people to quote na! Although, well, my thesis adviser sneered at blogs just recently, so I may go veeerrry slooooww when it comes to breaking the news that I want to work on blogs for my professorial lecture.

Quote of the day: "Never argue with idiots. They drag you down to your level and beat you with experience."

I was surprised to see so many reactions to the "Amanuensis" guy, whom Polar Bearball calls "the jerk."

Good news for his fans (and yes, he may just be Arnel Salgado the Second Coming, bad pun not intended)! This is for you, alchemical, Pasig Raver, Kate, Goldie Gold, Eric, Anonymous, and Categorically Imperative.

He picked a fight with me again, calling my house to scream at me for editing his stuff. (Incidentally, he doesn't care how I edit other people's work. Basta 'wagh yung kanya.) Please note that he isn't an editor, just a writer. I told him to take it up with Cool Boss, and he went bonkers. My letter to the Cool Boss is in the next post.

He claims he's written for Time and National Geographic. If this is true, then they must have a high tolerance for badly written stuff and/or REALLY good copy editors!

All I want for Christmas is to never see him again, and I hope he gets assigned to the Dragon Lady Super Editor in the paper, who used to stand behind writers as they wrote, yelling and hissing into their ears when they wrote badly. The good news is this: somehow the conflict has reached Dragon Lady's ears. She has taken to reading Amanuensis's work out loud in the lobby of our office and making snide comments about his writing.

Oooh. I think I love her already! ;p

But here's more "Amanuensis" goodness for those who got a kick out of it. (Names and identifying details changed to protect the stupid.) And yes, this is the complete original article, down to the "orders" he gave me.

(By the way, those who asked if they can link this to their blogs or post them there, by all means, please do so. I'm sure people will get a kick out of this. Just don't forget to remove my real name so that people can enjoy unadulterated pride chicken. Hehe.)

PS: Can you tell which part he copied from the company's press kit? Hehe.

=====
Note: maintain the 1st persona as a speaking force, kasi boring if hindi, magiging masyadong industrial. Fix the grammar only, thanks. Maintain word-counting, the space for this story is already measured

Untitled pa to DUDE (PART 1 OF 2)

Amidst the country’s current economic slump, The Company’s vibrant and highly considerable exportation of the Pinoy Buko Pie to the European market, distinguishes how competent native Philippine specialty products are, to pass international standards.

But, technicalities were off, when I got the call. I got an exclusive pass to cover the insides of The Company’s plant, in Somewhere Down South, for a feature write up. Back at the office, my superiors were asking my story for that day. I was justifying an off-house beat, outside Manila.

It didn’t really strike much when I told them that it was about Buko Pie. But, when I informed them that the story would be about the first Buko Pie, passing organic laws and anti-preservative rule-outs in Europe, I got the push.

Miss PR Rep picked me and my partner Partner Guy, up at the Mcdonald’s branch in Somewhere Near The Ofice, and headed to A Light Industry Park, Somewhere Down South.

The long travel was compensated by a volleying of casual conversations on the country’s need to hype up economic strategies, and industrial trades, not just within regional Asia but in the far west. Concerns and words were geared to light up how far we should courageously go to salvage the country’s economic state. PR Girl incessantly brought the topic up on flour, as a backgrounder for our tour. It wasn’t much of a stress when she said that flour prices these days, are killing the bread and pastry business. “The prices of flour are really kicking up radically,” she noted. “But, we also have to commend the government for sustaining the awareness for bakeries and businesses to use bromate-free flour,” she followed. But, is it not an issue of politics, and a marketing tactic of flour cartels? I asked with a little bit of confusion. “Oh, we’re here,” she remarked in sway, without really answering my question.

As we stepped in—expecting a James Bondish and an Echelon-like ambiance of actually seeing the Men in Black, toiling coconuts in a buoy-bobbing pool of Muscovado sugar essences—we were welcomed by a small band of Laguna girls and mothers as desk-staff. A small office with so much Chinese Feng Shui paraphernalia wasn’t what we’re really expecting. Behind a small desk with so much magazines and paper-junking catalogues of pastry books and food-freebies, was General Manager pushing back his weight from the couching chair to stand up and give regard. “Well, what’s for the day people?,” Manager asked us.

Then, we were introduced by PR Girl in high regard to the General Manager as the Newspaper’s staff, anyway.

After a minute’s passing and all, General Manager commanded us to wear our whites and hairnets. Ms. PR Girl asked permission from our group to go to her office and ready all the materials we’ll need, for that coverage. Partner Guy took so much time, just opening the damn hairnet. Partner Guy asked General Manager if he could pass without using the headgear, insisting that he’s bald, anyway. “No, No, No, we are very strict with our rules,” General Manager stressed.

Moving on, as we entered the buko pie ad dough department of the plant, we saw the thing.
There it was… a streamline of buko pies and dough. That was it. I thought we’d be seeing a high-tech thing of buko-pie Star-Wars-like hub, or seeing Luke Skywalker pressing on a flour-crust, or mixing coconut meat just so to meet, and pass the meticulous standards of the white people in Europe. Not to mention the Pinoy folks there, who regularly buy their products, would be a keeping point not to digress the quality of each pie.

That was the potent quality of The Company: no preservatives; and using only all natural materials and ingredients. General Manager said that sugar would be the most important element for preservation, and freezing it would be the factor to prolong shelf life.

Whooh, there wasn’t much of technicalities to write, though.

As a backgrounder, a few years ago, The Company was set-up as a manufacturing center for frozen and/or baked bakery products for export as well as for the local market. Its plant is HACCP certified and is located at A Laguna Park, a 1509002 and ISO14002 industrial estate.

The Company invested in top of the line machinery imported from Europe and the United States, with each bakery line having its own specialized equipment. The plant was designed to be self­-sufficient and operates various cold facilities which include blast and holding freezers as well as walk-in chillers to guarantee that the raw materials and the products are kept in the most favorable conditions.

The Company is dedicated to positioning itself as the top manufacturer of bakery products of its own brand, COMPANY’S BEST, as well as special requirements of our various institutional clients. The company prides itself with its technical group which works closely with our clients to achieve the best results in terms of quality, taste and cost.

Labels: weird people

Silly question, huh? But I am getting more and more fascinated by blogs and bloggers, and I am seriously considering a professorial paper discussing the literary blog as creative nonfiction.

Kind of a paradox when you think of it, right? The blog is supposed to be spontaneous, a journal of sorts. Journals are meant to be personal--yet we encourage comments on our entries. Is blogging then the next step in creative nonfiction? Creative nonfiction, after all, is the literary form which reaches out to the reader the most: we are meant to relate to it.

So, to the friendly pundits out there, how about answering a few questions? Email me any responses at charlenefernandezATyahoo.com (replace AT with @), or post them here.

1. How do you write blog entries? Do you revise them?
2. How significant is blogging to you?
3. Do you revise your blog entries?

Am still gathering my thoughts, and will post more of them plus my questions in the future.

^_^

On an off note, I do enjoy comments. (Hey, at least I admit that I am a blog exhibitionist of sorts.) I haven't really gotten flamed by anyone who deliberately comments to piss off bloggers, and I hope I never run into the sort. I have, though, seen other bloggers get attacked in their "comments" sections.

(Hi Cliff! Have you taken the posts by Khaki Shorts Boy out of your journal yet? If not, can I link them here for a few laughs? ;p) I guess some people just can't be happy unless they can make others unhappy. (This coming from a teacher! Hehe)

Thanks to Kate, city slicker, Wynn (a.k.a. Polar Bear), Alchemical (hey, please let me know where to contact you, thanks!), Eric, and Joey for their comments on the, eherm, writer problem two posts ago.

You are a Ragdoll! You are known for your laid
back attitude. You are the ultimate in
low-maintenance. You'd rather hang out around
the house all day than seek adventure.

What breed of cat are you?
brought to you by Quizilla

Labels: katuwaan

No, the title is not an error. But if you noticed it, then maybe you'd like to copyedit this mook I have to work with?

The kid (very young, only months of experience writing and newspapering) argued with me yesterday when I edited his article. It was creative; I'll give him that. But when I attempted to correct his work, he went ballistic. I tried to explain to him over the phone that a newspaper has a responsibility to its readers to provide well-written articles that they can easily understand. He invoked creativity, etc. as his defense, and refused to listen to my explanation that I both teach and write, that I am a creative writer, and that I have written AND edited for papers in the past. He didn't care about credentials; all he cared about was his wounded pride.

Then I was amazed to find that he'd taken a potshot at me, mocking my insistence that he use correct grammar and watch his word choice in a column he writes for our newspaper. Sneaky schmuck didn't send it to me for editing, but simply put it in the paper when no one was looking. (And don't think I didn't realize the significance of that!)

I picked up a copy today, and--lo and behold--there was a bunch of snide comments about people who insisted on good grammar--meaning me. Here is the column, without the kid's name and the name of the paper. Res ipsa loquitur--you tell me if this is, indeed, creative and well-written. Sneaky is a given, though.


RANT # 1
I’m alive and I can’t write a thing in a political Philippines where Philippine Cuisine wets in a blurring of identity; there’s the hype on everything cultural as how politically standardized culture should be, if fringed with our society’s standard talking points.
RANT#2
At this point, could I be regarded as a writer? Maybe yes, maybe no. Later, I’d be someone else. If I’d be cooking Sea Bass, dunking it in fresh milk for 5 minutes, seasoning it with salt and butter, and dredging it in flour before I high-sear-fry it in butter and olive oil, I’d be a cook, cooking French cuisine. And I’d be boasting of a good Sea Bass Meuniere, which simply means Pritong Isda.
Anyway, if I’d be someone eating Sea Bass Meunier, I’d simply be someone eating Sea Bass Meunier, and not a writer. If I’d be writing at this point, then I’m simply someone writing.
RANT#3
It’s so difficult to get the perfection of a Dill Beur Blanc sauce. When I was doing my version, I used minced white onions as an option for shallots. I simmered it with chopped dill and white wine, and when reduced, I added in whipped cream and chicken stock.
Reduce it to the right consistency, as how one need be reducing a supra-ego of actually teaching the module-based technicalities of pagsulat ng Ingles sa Tamang Pamamaraan, without actually writing a ballistic work, bigger than The Irish Bard, or Psychodeath Bubble-gum Love Suite of Ramil, or water songs of Nerisa Del Carmen-Guevarra. Just eat Gani’s TAO.
RANT#4
My God I’m having the writer’s block! Or maybe, the "someone-who’s-trying to-write-block."
Where is Eleonora Dimagiba when one needs advise on writing. Shish, I need to visit BS Medina.
Anyway, do not forget to season with salt and pepper. Whisk in butter to the sauce and a little bit of humility to it, but cook it as B. Savarin and write like A. Ginsberg. More so, smile like how Jollibee does...
...haay, I think I’d not be able to finish my rant. You want to know why?
Here is the answer:
See it?
Anyway, don’t forget to always put white wine when cooking seafood Pasta Italian style. Get the best of clams and anchovies.
Forget about Cabernet Sauvignon, it’s expensive. Try Merlot.
And, free lunch will always be served at home.
Where’s home, anyway?
Maybe, it is where my writing is.

Our boss tore him a new @$$hole for his arrogance. Seemed he'd already been warned about his attitude in the past. Our boss tried hard to be fair, and even introduced us and let me explain my side to him. I edit to improve articles, I try to help you, etc., was what I said. Our boss told him to put up or shut up, basically...and that worried me. People pushed against the wall can be dangerous, and if his column is any indication, then I better watch my back, yes? Pride chicken: he prefers to attack from behind.

When I brought the column to his attention, and told him that I knew what he'd written, there was dead silence. Though he promised to work professionally with me in the future, the fact that he was humiliated over this incident is not going to go away easily, and I'm waiting for another attack in some other form.

He's young, and I can't help but feel sorry for him in spite of his childish behavior. I know he's quite insecure about his position: he's on probation, he has no prior experience with writing or editing, he supervises the layout and article-gathering (basically doing the dirty work of the editor), and he doesn't have the credentials for writing and editing.

I've taught more Creative Writing classes than I can count, and I can pick out the type quite easily; in his youthful conceit, there is no room in his mind for the idea that someone might actually be better than him. I get that a lot in undergrad classes, so I was surprised that someone out of college could be like this. (Of course he was meek and polite when our boss was around, and this rang so many warning bells, I'm surprised our boss didn't hear them clanging. But then, he's a laid-back, cool and collected kinda guy, so he probably did but chose not to mention it.)

But his youth and insecurity does not give him the right to behave in this manner. No matter what he thinks, he still has to learn a few lessons, and this most of all: the media is not to be used as a tool for lashing out at people for your own purposes. If he wants to do that, I believe a certain publisher of another paper would like an assistant.

I'm willing to bet he'll go running to his writer-friends (whom I also know, incidentally) in an attempt to smear mud on my name. I wanted to be transferred to another section as I could see this wasn't going to work, but Cool Boss refused to let me resign. He told the boy straight out that I was editing the section, and the boy had better pick up a few lessons from me and control his attitude. My other boss told me that this was a strong message and a punishment in itself. Me, I think that Cool Boss has his reasons, but if I find a knife sticking in my back anytime soon, I will be sure to show it to him. The kid might need it back, after all (to steal a line from this funny email I got which featured "Rejected Hallmark Card Texts").

Seems the kid's been in hot water before (for rudeness to an advertiser, a huge no-no in an industry that relies on advertising), and when my boss told me, "He's an idiot. It's probably best that you ignore him. But he's young, and I think he deserves a second chance...although this is already his second chance," I figured the boy would just dig himself into his grave.

I just hope he has the sense not to try and pelt others with his own graveyard dirt.

Labels: crazy people, funny fights

First off, I did NOT write this. It was sent to me, and I have no idea who wrote it. If it is copyrighted material, please do let me know so that I can acknowledge the source. But it sent me rolling down the proverbial aisle (weeping with mirth, to boot) so I decided to put it up here for my friends who are trying to lose weight. Heifers rule! The logic is unassailable! (Okay, maybe. But just read the darn thing first.)

DISCLAIMER: Consult your doctor before going on any diet or starting an exercise routine, especially if you have no sense of humor and think that this post is a serious one. If so then Gawd help ya.

=========

The Templeman Diet (author unknown)

Q: I've heard that cardiovascular exercise can prolong life. Is this true?

A: Your heart is only good for so many beats, and that's it...don't waste them on exercise. Everything wears out eventually. Speeding up your heart will not make you live longer; that's like saying you can extend the life of your car by driving it faster. Want to live longer? Take a nap.

Q: Should I cut down on meat and eat more fruits and vegetables?
A: You must grasp logistical efficiencies. What does a cow eat? Hay and corn. And what are these? Vegetables. So a steak is nothing more than an efficient mechanism of delivering vegetables to your system. Need grain? Eat chicken. Beef is also a good source of field grass (green leafy vegetable). And a pork chop can give you 100% of your recommended daily allowance of vegetable products.

Q: Should I reduce my alcohol intake?
A: No, not at all. Wine is made from fruit. Brandy is distilled wine, and that means they take the water out of the fruity bit so you get even more of the goodness that way. Beer is also made out of grain. Bottoms up!

Q: How can I calculate my body/fat ratio?
A: Well, if you have a body and you have body fat, your ratio is one to one. If you have two bodies, your ratio is two to one, etc.

Q: What are some of the advantages of participating in a regular
exercise program?
A: Can't think of a single one, sorry. My philosophy is: No Pain? Good!

Q: Aren't fried foods bad for you?
A: YOU'RE NOT LISTENING!!! Foods are fried these days in vegetable oil.In fact, they're permeated in it. How could getting more vegetables be bad for you?

Q: Will sit-ups help prevent me from getting a little soft around the middle?
A: Definitely not! When you exercise a muscle, it gets bigger. You should only be doing sit-ups if you want a bigger stomach.

Q: Is chocolate bad for me?
A: Are you crazy? HELLO! Cocoa beans--beans are vegetables!!! It's the best feel-good food around!

Q: Is swimming good for your figure?
A: If swimming is good for your figure, explain whales to me.

Q: Is getting in-shape important for my lifestyle?
A: Hey! 'Round' is a shape!

Well, I hope this has cleared up any misconceptions you may have had about food and diets and remember, "Life should NOT be a journey to he grave with the intention of arriving safely in an attractive and well preserved body, but rather to skid in sideways - Chardonnay in one and - strawberries in the other - body thoroughly used up, totally worn out, and screaming, "WOO HOO! What A Ride!"

Labels: humor

My first rave!

I bought a Promac industrial fan last Saturday in an attempt to dispel the unseasonal heat in my east-facing bedroom (Argh.) When Polar Bearball and I got home, we tried to assemble it, and noticed that the fan blade cap was missing. We returned it to the SM Appliance outlet at the basement of SM City, and were attended to promptly by a reliever named Val. He soon found that the unit was packed into the wrong box, and quickly processed the paperwork for a replacement unit, which we took home in less than ten minutes.

I just had to give the manager my compliments. Trouble is, they're not used to receiving compliments; he assumed a defensive position and only relaxed when I smiled. I stressed that I wished to commend Val for his exemplary service, and he was surprised. Apparently, they have no commendation forms--only complaint forms. He mentioned that many customers come in ready to do battle over minor things. I said that I thought I'd been the one to make a mistake, and was thus not likely to raise hell.

Maybe we should also learn to speak up when things go right. Maybe a spoonful of sugar can make the cake slide down as well? I think I learned something today. ^_^

Labels: raves

Since this entry was first destroyed by some inconsiderate blogger some time ago (see previous entry), I've had some trouble reconstructing it. It does bring home something important about writing, though: that one should always save a copy of whatever one writes in order to avoid the sinking feeling of "not getting it right" when one tries to reconstruct what has been lost.

==========

Someone emailed me to ask whether I wrote about Polar Bearball (EDIT: Also known as "Wynn" )in almost all my entries (never noticed, really) in order to "...rub [our]perfect relationship in the faces of those who don't have significant others."

Did I ever say the relationship was perfect?

Good God, woman, go out and click the "Next Blog" links and see how many people write about their partners. I even stumbled on one blog that called itself something like "my boyfriend is sexy" which chronicled this couple's activities. (I don't dare post the link here!) Compared to that, I've been oh-so-discreet.

When I blog, I tend to put Polar Bearball (Wynn) in because he is that much a part of my life. I take his presence for granted, the same way that he does mine. Friends tell me that it's hard to determine which one of us mentions the other more often. He's picked up my lingo ("Hello?!? As if. Asa pa you,") and now dresses in something other than Urban Sloppy Fashion, while I've learned to walk fast and cross-examine people who talk to me.

Someone once told me that breaking up with someone who's been with you for more than five years (I think we're going on seven roundabout December, on-and-off time included) is like cutting off a limb: you suffer from phantom pains when you refer to something, only to remember that the only person who will understand what you mean is gone. I think that would be true for us. Or, at least, for me.

I would argue that the reason why we've stayed together so long is precisely because we haven't had an easy time of it. We never went through a phase in which we "billed and cooed" at each other; we just sort of fell into it. If you ask us when our anniversary is, we will both pull a blank. I do know I've outlasted both his exes combined, and I think that counts for something.

Nothing is easy in this relationship, and I think that's why it matters so much to me. Ask my best friend Goldie Gold, on whose shoulder I've cried so many times, I think I owe her a couple of new blouses. (Happy birthday dear!)

I hate the way he hangs up on a cellphone call when he's irritated or in a hurry; sometimes, I'm left talking to dead air. He hates the way I shift back to topics we've already agreed to bury the hatchet over when I'm losing an argument. I wound him when I don't notice the little ways in which he shows how he cares...or worse, when I make fun of them. He hurts me whenever he walks out instead of finishing an argument or explaining why he's reacted the way he has. He bullies me with clenched teeth or a raised voice if he doesn't get his way. I whine and bring up unrelated topics to get my way.

So why do we stay together?

Our mutual friend Buddy Bear (and I'm sure he'll kill me for using this alias for him) once said, during a terrible moment in my relationship with Polar Bearball, "Ask yourself whether the bad times outweigh the good. If they do, then it's time to bail."

What do I consider the good times?

Polar Bearball standing up for me in a hostile room.

His never mentioning my past sins, not even to rub it in my face.

His getting along with all my relatives, big and small...sometimes better than I do.

His calling me "Pompom."

His never being able to say the magic words, but showing me in so many small ways how much I mean to him.

His patiently putting up with my ideas for making him over, including a disastrous nose strip incident (in which I injured him!).

His texting me little messages of encouragement when I'm tense or nervous.

His going to various bookstores and asking for my book in order to make salespeople remember that I exist.

His spending as much of his free time with me as he can, literally forsaking all others.

His never giving me flowers, but giving me emergency flashlights, first aid kits, a cell phone and line, and other practical things.

His putting up with Divisoria soot and traffic when I wanted to get cheap plus-size clothes.

His never telling me that I am fat or ugly. His belief that I am beautiful, talented, and smart, despite occasional evidence to the contrary.

His telling me of his plans in the future, and always including me in what he sees of tomorrow.

His reading of my blog, and pointing out little errors so that I can correct them and not look silly.

Him calling up our friends one by one the night before I was to appear on TV to ask them to watch.

Him texting people to greet me on the eve of my birthday.

Him playing with my hair idly.

Him looking at me and smiling for no reason other than seeing me.

Him accompanying me even to the OB-Gyne for checkups.

So many small things. They do add up, you know. And though the point of a relationship is not to weigh the scales of good and bad times, I feel that the good times do outweigh the bad...and I hope he feels the same way.

It is true that sometimes, the small things can matter much more than the others. Even though there are times when, to borrow a line off Stephen King, I could vote the death penalty on him for no good reason, I find myself thinking of him even when I'm alone. Not because I miss him, but rather, because I want to know what he'll think of what I'm eating, seeing, saying, or doing. I see the evidence of how he feels about me in the little things; I even drink my daily tea out of a teapot and cups he gave me after observing that I liked tea.

I don't think this relationship would have been as important to either of us if it were something that came easy. "Easy come, easy go," after all. I've heard about and seen a lot of fairy tale relationships, and I always wonder whether the couple is trying too hard to make the relationship look good. I'd imagine that kind of effort takes a lot out of you.

Is there a conclusion to this? Words of wisdom from my experience? Certainly not. I'm sure that Polar Bearball and I will have many more sullen, silent drives to take together, yet I hope they will continue to be that way. Together, that is.

Labels: relationships, Wynn

Was typing a new entry, a rather heartfelt discussion of my relationship with Polar Bearball. Stupidly, I forget to save the text when I was nearly done. Another window was processing my "Next Blog" links, and I was redirected to some moron's blog. Despite the popup blocker from Yahoo (which I'm thinking of uninstalling now), a popup came on screen. The blog was something like "lovemegod!" and the popup contained a button "We could be so happy!" I tried to close it but it wouldn't go away. I tried to use "crt-alt-del" to close it, and ALL my windows closed.

And I hadn't saved the entry.

I hate it when bloggers have cutesy stuff on their blogs, especially when they include the kind that try to hijack your open browsers. How desperate for attention are these idiots?

I just wish I'd saved the blog address. If you find it, let me know so that I can send him or her something that'll erase all of his or her stupid entries.

Argh.

Labels: small annoyances

(Am still shellshocked from my appearance on Studio 23 yesterday. I still feel like a dork, and I am grateful to Joaqui and Atom for NOT giggling when I pulled a blank. Yes, I said "Umberto Eco" thrice, forgot to correct the title of my book, and forgot who wrote "Wala Lang" and "Suddenly Stateside." Oh the shame. Am currently in sackcloth and ashes. Arrrgghh. That's why I'll write about it when I recover. On the plus side, people said I looked cute. To steal my own line, "...we truly take comfort wherever we can find it.")

One of my favorite icebreakers for new classes at the start of each sem is to ask them to write a one-page essay on "What I Would Do With A Million Pesos." Often, the results are hilarious, especially when some kid thinks that P 1M is enough for a house (in Ayala-Alabang) and a car (a Mercedes Benz). That s/he doesn't know that P 1M won't even buy you space for a potted plant in Ayala Alabang, and the best Mercedes Benz s/he can get for her/his money is a clunker three decades older, shows that too many kids don't know the value of money. And boy, do I miss being that ignorant.

Anyway, I was having lunch with the Grey Wanderer yesterday when we got around to joking about what we'd do if we ever hit the Philippine lottery jackpot.* Certainly we weren't referring to my best friend Goldie Gold's version of lottery luck (she bet P 50 and won P 10. Heh heh). We meant the megamillions. He asked what I'd do with 50 million pesos, and I threatened to buy the nice Nissan RV behind us. Pause. Then I said, hey, I've been saying that for ten years now, and no go.

(* Side comment: Oooh. Am getting the hang of this linking thing, and I'm enjoying it ;p)

The Grey Wanderer then observed that saying "When I win the lottery..." has become the modern equivalent of "Never." I only know of two people who have ever won the jackpot, and even then, these are stories about them that I've been told by friends. FOAF (Friend Of A Friend) data, really, and hence, unreliable.

Does anyone actually win? I don't particularly care to do the research. But hope sometimes propels me and the Polar Bearball to try our luck. We're pretty timid bettors; we bet on a single set of numbers each time, and since we're lazy, we make sure the ticket is valid for several draws. We've never gotten lucky, not even winning ten bucks for our trouble, but we keep trying anyway as we tell ourselves that it's for charity. (Excuses, excuses.)

But the fantasy is fascinating. What would I do with a crapload of money? The standard cliches apply: shopping spree is the first to pop into my mind. Funny part is, I know people (like my sister KatKit) who actually plan out what to do if they ever won. Consider me like the lilies in the field, and at the risk of using two cliches in one sentence, I'll cross the bridge if and when I ever get there. (Was that a mixed metaphor too?)

***

"Why do you write only funny stuff? Wala ka bang serious things to write?"

Of course I do. But other people do it better, and I'm not a very serious person, really. Why try to put on a serious mien when it'll be patently obvious that it's not who I am anyway? I started this blog to force myself to write, because I believe that one can get rusty without practice. Consider this: when I read student essays, my grammar gets bad. But if I review the book, my grammar gets better. Revision rules! Revision is, technically, a "Do-Over" and it usually improves a work. So there we are.

And this entry has gone way over what I intended it to be.

Now how can such a talkative person like me pull a blank on a freaking talk show?!? (No, I am not going to get over it soon.)

Labels: small happy things

Someone twitted me over the weekend: "Hoy, isang linggo ka nang di nagpost. Atsaka bakit panay maaahhaaabbbaaa ang post mo? Iklian mo naman. At wag panay seryoso."

Okay.

Over the weekend, I vegetated at my mom's place. I spent the whole time asleep. Oddly enough, I lost weight; seems that I lose weight best when I eat regularly and eat right. A miracle happened: I like veggies after all. Weird. My mom has this evil cook, Nen, who makes me eat. And eat. And...oh, you get the picture. Nen is a kind, sweet woman, and eating her food in vast quantities is a surefire way to get on her good side.

So I brought along the Polar Bearball last Friday. If anyone can eat food in bigger quantities than I do, he can. (Was there something wrong with that sentence?) He wound up staying until Monday!

Just a senti observation: why do I sleep so soundly in the same room with him? (Funny note: my cat Meow spent the nights with us with her ears tucked solidly under her paws. Guess why? No, nothing X-rated. Just that we both snore. Poor cat ;p )

Polar Bearball playfully woke me up on Saturday with a video he'd taken with his phone of me asleep. Ugh.

And to think I'm appearing on the telly in a few hours. Vanity, thy name is woman indeed. I got a haircut, and hit the gym to boot.

Suddenly I'm cutting down on the rice, eating salads (didn't know I liked crunchy lettuce after all! I hate it when it's soggy though) and hitting the gym. And I am happy with myself.

My friend Danio called suddenly a while ago with another sideline offer. A case I had to take care of took care of itself. Polar Bearball called and coached me for Breakfast 23 tomorrow. Things are looking up, and for once, I am not waiting for the other shoe to drop.

I think I'm happy. Oh, what an admission from a hypersensitive, pouty person like me. :)

So, is this short enough? ^_^

Labels: small happy things