Jinky likes pigs and dogs and cats and other animals and movies and books and television and crochet and music and Scooby Doo and magazines and office supplies and nesting dolls and comic books and gospel music and Neil Gaiman and writing and talangka and Kurt Vonnegut, Jr. and shopping and cross stitch and video games and art and Daria Morgendorffer and The Beatles and bookstores and gadgets and Harry Potter and bobbleheads and lots more that's all she's got to say about it for now.
My Girl, pa-autograph! 
ey, jinkywinky! miss you! we should get togeher sometime:)
punta ka bang komikon?
passing by for the first time! nice blog. you a member of the i.ph forum? it’s a lot of fun.
what… pork pa rin?
wow updates HAPPY BIRTHDAY ATE JINKY
yeeeeeeyyyy! may post na ulit si jinky!!!
Ate Jinky, will call you one of these days. Thank you.
jinky!! hah! naunahan ka na namin nina Kai & Frog mag-hoard ng bk 7 goodies!!! Bwahahaaha!!!
hope to see you on saturday!!! ingats!
I miss Naja. And Ate Jinky.
jinkeeeeeeeeeeeee!
uh oh… spam attack!!!!
U can get rid of it tho.
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Your blog has been migrated na rin! Kamusta? 
march na! wala pa po bang updates?
just passing by. miss you ate Jinky. ate nadj nagpunta ka ba nung feb fair?
just flooding by.. S2CHARD: nope, was busy the entire month. =)
90 days without updates. Feel like ‘disturbing’ Ate Jinky sometime 
let’s go mexican!!!
There was this guy who took a shit buck naked. Pooped in the nude. So there he was doing the deed, when he feels something cold grazing one of his butt cheeks. Cold and slimy. So he checks, because it was strange (yes, stranger than shitting in the nude). He peeps through his legs and he sees a bayawak. A bayawak. In the toilet bowl. While he was shitting. So he panics and jumps up mid - shit. And because he was stark naked, and he was in the toilet, for Pete’s sake, he had nothing for a weapon save for his maong pants that he hung on the doorknob. So reaches out for it. Meanwhile, the bayawak starts crawling out of the inodoro. The guy flops the toilet lid down and the bayawak is half in and half out of the bowl. The guy pushes down the lid to keep the bayawak from crawling all the way out. So he’s got the lid down with his right hand, and he’s got the jeans with his left, and his back to the sink (it’s a small toilet). How does he get out of this shit (literally)? He decides to call out for the maid to help him. But the door’s locked and she won’t hear him call out. So he lifts his right leg and uses that to keep the bayawak in. He transfers the jeans to his now - free right hand and reaches for the doorknob with his left. But he remembers he’s naked, and covered in his own shit, so he flushed that idea down the toilet (pun bad and intended). Meanwhile, the bayawak is now completely out of the inodoro. The guy starts hitting the reptile with his jeans. Whack, whack, whack! Then he is able to somehow wrap the jeans around the bayawak, which just sits there. Then the guy shits some more, cleans the shit off of the toilet’s floor and walls, takes a shower, gets a towel around his waist, goes out of the toilet with bayawak in maong in hand, and gets rid of the slimy and now even more stinky reptile by releasing it into the garden.
Then there were these two girls who had just gotten to sleep after a long day of work. One was on the bed, and the other was on the floor. Girl A on the bed, suddenly felt little feet — paws? — on the back of her hand. So she jerked her hand up with a little “ay!” Almost immediately, Girl B on the floor responds with an “ay!!” of her own. The two jump up, and one of them turns the light on. They see a mouse the size of a pickle staring at them, quite possibly very angry at the manner it was handled. Girl B manages to get hold of a broom and hits the little thing. Good move, except she hit it with the wrong end, the soft end of the walis. Whack, whack, whack, plus a final push down. Then Girl B releases the walis and sees that the mouse stopped moving. She and Girl A were gleeful until they saw a twitch. From the mouse. It was not dead; being hit with the wrong end of the broom only rendered it unconscious. The mouse shakes its head (really), got its bearings (maybe) and ran off. Girls A & B went back to bed, Girl A with a rolled up newspaper and Girl B with the broom, which she promised to use the proper way in case the mouse came back for revenge. Just in case. They had both never seen a mouse lose consciousness before. And they’ve never seen one regain it. There was a first time for everything.
In a related incident, a bunch of guys were having a sleep - over at a friend’s house. One of them was not only a heavy sleeper, he was also heavy - handed, literally. So there he was, sleeping soundly, when he feels something icky with little nails running on his hand. He thought it was just one of his sleep - over buddies messing with him with a feather. With his still eyes closed and a grunt (he shall NOT be roused from sleep), he grabs the icky thing and just hurls it. The next day, they wake up and see a single streak of blood on the wall in front of the heavy sleeper’s bed. When they stepped closer to investigate, they followed the streak of blood down to the floor, where they found a dead mouse. The mouse never knew what hit him. Er, never knew what he hit.
Finally, there’s this girl standing in front of RCPI in Cubao, waiting for a bus. She was late, so she looked at her watch to check just how late she was. Just then she felt a hand slap her wrist, in an attempt to grab the watch. Quick of wit, the girl screams ”Ay, putangina!” and spits on the offender’s hand. Spits. On. It. With a big glob of laway. Maybe the girl has acid for spit, or it was just so weird - making that the snatcher yanks his hand away and runs, runs! without looking back. The girl saw she wasn’t that late after all.
Only one of these stories happened to me; the rest happened to other people. But they are all true. All true. How can I possibly make this up? There’ll be more soon.
This is a PILOT - S Better Retractable/Refillable JS - GP Fine Point. It’s a cheap ballpoint pen. Actually, I have no idea how much it is now, because I have had this particular pen for almost 9 years. Those of you who’ve had pens and lost them not minutes after purchase know how impressive it is to have a 9 - year old pen. Most of you have even tried the “that sticker with my name on it means it’s mine” technique and know how useless that is after a few “pahiram ballpen“s. Nobody gives a Sheaffer that the pen has an owner. And I know that the sticker is not the reason for my pen’s longevity; I’ve had to change stickers as often as I’ve had to re - fill the pen itself.
This ballpen has been around the (writer’s) block and back. And forth. I’ve brought it with me to shoots in Vigan, Tagaytay, Malacanang. It’s been to a furniture factory, several squatters’ areas, and the Senate. I write stories, sign checks, take down notes, doodle, make journal entries and edit scripts with it. It’s been to America, Malaysia and Hong Kong. One day it will go to Italy and Great Britain, France, Africa and Jamaica. And it’s made several trips around my thumb; you know, that twirling trick with the ballpen that has become part of one’s college education.
I guess it would be far more chi - chi to say I have a Montblanc or a Parker (no matter how old it is), but I don’t think that’s half as impressive as having for nine years a ballpen that has a reputation for being walain. I still don’t know why I haven’t lost this pen, though there have been a few close calls. I once worked on a Senator’s TV show, and she would come to work with her expensive little bag, and there would be, oh, 5, 6 pens in it (madalas Parkers, and I’ve seen a Montblanc, too), none of which she owns. Most people (me included) use a computer for everything, and PDAs are all the rage, but I find that I need to physically write everything down, still and too. With this pen. Nine years old. It knows too much about me. I can never lose it.
I’m so embarassed. The day started like any other — you know, wake up, stare at the ceiling a wee bit, bath and toilette, put on some clothes, get to work and then work then…nothing! Nothing but work! That can’t be good.
Well, I was able to blog - hop, tagboard - flood, Beerkada Forum - post and talk to my regular YM buddies Naja and Lei. Lei and I were wondering why i.ph was down for a bit today. Ronnie came over with Direk and the rest of the staff and I sat in on their meeting. I’ve been waiting for Kai to upload photos of her post - bday bash but maybe she’s busy. Oh, and my script for that moonlighting thing was approved by agency, so on to client. Angelo, my officemate Vangie’s son visited and we talked video games.
But mostly it was work, even (again) when I got home. I’m so embarassed. Mind you, this doesn’t mean nothing happened at all. It’s just that there’s nothing fun to tell you.
So, try your darnedest best to enjoy these “Separated At Birth” pictures instead:
Hay, naku, walang kwenta. To paraphrase Kris Aquino (her first appearance on the talk show See - True. I didn’t know then that I’d have any use for her.), “Nakakanerbyos pala ho talaga to own a blog. Now lang, I know.” Ooooh, the pressure. Okay, I’m off to post in the Beerkada Forum about my little contest. I hope that works out a lot better than this day did.
All I did today was work; I’m sure you don’t want to hear any more about that. So here, instead, is a random thought:
If Bruce Springsteen ^ had a baby with Hugh Grant ^ ,
they’d probably have
Jason Mraz.
Random daw.
***BEERKADA GALLERY UPDATED! CHECK OUT NEWLY - UPLOADED PICS STOLEN…ER, BORROWED FROM BIRTHDAY GIRL KAI! THANKS, BABY SIS!***
Kai’s post birthday bash for her fellow Beerkadets at Gerry’s Grill in Greenhills was a burping success!
Of course it didn’t start out that way for some of us. We were supposed to be at Gerry’s by 1:00 pm — hah! I had sent out a text message the night before, asking everyone if they needed a ride. Fraggle and I traded text messages before we realized that I couldn’t give him a ride because I’m from Quezon City and he’s from Cainta, and the easiest way for us to get together was to…meet in Gerry’s Grill Greenhills. Laos. Anyway, Oliver, Paula and I agreed to meet before 1 o’clock at Gloria Jean’s (what is it about Beerkadets and Gloria Jean’s?!) Robinson’s Galleria. Oliver couldn’t get off work till 12:30, I got to GJ’s at around 12:45, and Paula, being from Muntinlupa, and MRT notwithstanding, got there at 2:00 pm, which is not 1 o’clock. I therefore conclude that Beerkadets must hone their meeting - up - on - time skills before the next get together.
But somehow, umabot kami. Nobody left naman before we got there, so we didn’t miss out on much, except maybe some of the crispy pata, which I didn’t want any of anyway — you know, high blood and all that. I heard Kevin was there first; I’m not surprised. There was great food, great laughs, great company. Meron pang mga under - the - table exchanges that Edu Manzano might be interested in. Ang lagay, eh…ako rin, pahiram! ;) And most everyone got a taste of The Tingler. So, all in all, e di success. Kaso, I had no camera with me. All I had was my camera phone, which was down to a bar of power after all the text messages and phone calls (”San na kayo?” “Please call again…” “Ate, I’m here sa…ay!” <—this is Paula talking to me on a phone and being almost rainpuddle - splashed by a bus.). Plus I was shaking with laughter and people were too malikot, so my pictures came out…well, they came out but not very well. And I didn’t/couldn’t take enough. Hmm, looks like I’ll need to steal some pictures off of Kai’s blog. Pero pwede na rin. It’ll give you pa rin an idea of how nutty the Beerkadets are. Have a look while I google for a nice digital camera for next time. As always, I am looking forward to it. Thanks, Kai!
The Birthday Girl
Fraggle making a phone call, Naja and Kevin making kwento
and Lei and Lee making happy
Yamiyo, Lei and Lee; Fraggle and Yamiyo; Chompy Tingles
I just realized that to get through this weekend — nay, the rest of the year! – I would need all my powers, even those hitherto untapped. Hell, even powers that aren’t mine! BaDing, ang bato!
It would be a good idea to update today before i.ph’s scheduled server maintenance tomorrow. Hmmm, don’t quite know what to tell you, though. This morning, I was able to get some some writing done for work before going to a bruncheon meeting with Lizzie at Starbucks Waltermart. The original plan was for me to meet them at the Starbucks in Greenbelt 1, but because of a rally of some sort, for some reason, somewhere in Ayala, she had to move the meeting to the Waltermart Branch. I’m new to Makati and didn’t know how to get around much, or at least to the meeting place, so Lizzie had to come get me at the office. We walked towards one street and all the way down another, went through a couple of buildings and finally reached the place. Over pink guava juice and a chocolate eclair, we discussed the details for the…uh, I can’t tell you yet. I have a Monday deadline for this script so my brain must work overtime and double time to make it, especially since there’s already a lot on the table. So the good news is I have racket. The bad news is I have racket.
Back at the office, I checked my emails, took a few quick peeks at the Beerkada Forum and got one and a half pages of writing done. Then I was off to visit the CG boys on the 6th. The poor boys are so busy but really good - natured about it all. The ad is only 1/3 finished, but it’s looking really good. Will post it when it’s out. Then I had a meeting with the Engineering people and Aids about, uh, unlicensed software being used by businesses which has absolutely nothing to do with us. Really. Then we all had to prepare for an early - morning presentation tomorrow and discussed the pros and cons of bringing food and how much better it is to bring notebooks to give away instead. In between, I had to figure out how to get the all the partners together for a long overdue board meeting; Kai and I exchanged text messages in between the in - betweens. I told her how boring my day was (well, to others, at least) and we discussed the importance of regular practice in the art of flirting. Feh, you had to be there. Sometime, too, during the day, Paula and I were able to say quick hellos to each other via text and partly live; it was so quick, all we were able to agree on was that brown - outs were baduy.
I called Monek to sync scheds and ended up going to Optima to have dinner with her. Along the way (just a short walk from where I work), I saw Lizzie again, and all three of us had dinner (Aligue Pasta for me and Monek, San Mig Light for Lizzie) at Indulgence. Burp. Fun way to end the day. When I got back to the office, I just packed my things and went home. Of course, going home meant one hour of nothing, and then more work when I finally did get home but, hey, I was going home. So maybe, in this case, it’s not the journey but the destination.
See? SS, DD.
It’s really great to have friends. Today was just more of the usual. `Worked on the website, wrote and edited some lines for the employee handbook I’m working on, had little meetings with various people, stared at the manhole/object d’art — an aluminum render of the company logo – sitting in the lobby, talked to some more people, followed up on this and that. Wheee. Oh, and I was told there were revisions in the concept of that event thing I was working on (v. bad) and I’ve been asked to work on another mini - racket (v. good). So today I was stressed and excited and frustrated and tired and just a teensy weensy bit happy (see “v. good” above). Of course I was going through the entire day knowing that when I got home there’d be more work waiting.
That’s why it’s nice to have little blessings scattered throughout the day to help relieve the tension and just flush the crap out. Marj is preparing for a March wedding and got a few more things out of the way today, like her Ninang giveaways (okay, that was yesterday. I told her about the sale at Oceanic 1911 and she went out and bought silver compact mirrors at half - off.) and her invitations, which she regularly consults me about. Glad to have helped. It made me happy to see her happy, really. I’m such a sap. I also got a call from Kai and was pleased to hear from her. I called Fully Booked Rockwell and learned that there were 47 copies of Mythology Class left, so I was able to reserve a couple for Kai and Juve. Today, too, I heard from Paula, and via text messaging we talked about a common pet peeve (tee - hee). There were phone conversations with Marie, who’s having a future godchild of mine in March; and Leah, Gabby’s mommy, who told me she loved the guitar and is sure Gabby will, too. There were nice laughs with Melba and Wayne and Jose and Ms. Vangie. Monek called, too, like she does everyday, but everyday it’s always a different thing. Or not, but it’s always such a lift to hear from her. There were tagboard messages, forum posts and PMs and kind words and naughty quips and funny hirits. I was supposed to meet with people and the meetings actually happened. I waited for deliveries and they actually came. I had little decisions to make and I made them, just made them, shit, who cares what size they are? A normally masungit person was nice to me for a part of the day, and I’m okay with that. A person who was starting to warm up to me turned cold again but I wasn’t affected.
Looking back, hey, you know what? It was a nice day. My friends were there. Isn’t that great?
Some of my babies are unhappy. First, I post a picture of total strangers (see “Arf, Arf, Meow, Meow” below), and then I post pictures of some of my babies, but not all of them (”dog tired, (cat) lost“ also below). Therefore, I must now properly introduce the four - legged members of my brood, or risk getting bitten in the ass. Meow culpa, pawdon me.
The guy on the left is my beagle Teroy (real name: Sotero Laurel, of course). He’s a real sweetie, but is very malikot and loves flashing his butt. He knows he’s bootylicious. `Scared of the dark, too. He loves eating off of other people’s…er, other dogs’ feeding dishes, which explains that scar on the bridge of his, umm, snout (can’t see it in this picture, though). The one on the right is not a bear, he is my Chow - Chow Jet Li. He’s quite aloof, but he won’t bite. If he doesn’t like you, he’ll just stay away. Such a softie, really. `Picked his own name, too. As you all know, Chows are of Chinese descent (?!), so I figured I would give him a Chinese name. I ask him, “Do want to be called Meng Fei?” He just sits there. “Chow Yun - Fat?” Still no reaction. “Bruce Lee?” `Couldn’t be bothered. Then I go, “Jet Li?” And I swear, he wags his tail like it was the last time he was ever going to do it. The End.
Ahh, The Twins. The Brothers Wimpp. Tisoy and Negro. These two you’ve met earlier. They’re even more malikot than Teroy and to them, most everything is a chew toy. Labrador Retrievers are intimidating because of their size but, really, they’d offer an akyat - bahay gang member coffee if they could boil water. And they know how to shake hands and high five. They are sooo friendly and so sweet. Trust me. They’re just, uh, big - boned is all.
Look at that face. Isn’t this the most charming face you’ve ever seen? Mamoi is the closest I’ve gotten to having a pet pig. She snores, she farts (really loud, wet farts, I tell you) and she eats like a… well, like a pig. Don’t let that mug fool you. It may scare the hell out of everyone, but she’s not interested in biting people. She’s a really good girl. She’s so ugly, she’s cute. We were walking her one day, and there were kids following us around. Finally, one of them finds enough nerve to ask, “Miss, aso po yan?” Bastos. But Bulldogs are good - natured. Just don’t get on her wrong side. You know, where the asshole is.
And my missing and sorely - missed Saddam. Our first cat, although we’ve had some strays walk into our home through the windows and visit regularly. It’s the same picture as the one below, but I believe it’s his best, so re - post. I’ve posted flyers all over the barangay, but he still hasn’t come home. Kaladkarin kasi, eh. Napakabait na pusa. Kahit kanino, sumasama. Got along very well with the dogs and even slept in the same room with them (mine). Kaso, nabarkada. Fell in with the wrong crowd. I’m still hoping he’ll come home. We’ll be waiting.
So, there you have it. My pets. My babies. One day I will get to the rest of them–yup, there’s more. Some of the dogs are in Talisay, Batangas, taking care of the chickens, and the fish in our giant aquarium and the smaller one outside also deserve space here. That’s for next time.
Take a bow - wow - wow, my babies.
Some truths before I continue with this post:
One: I like banana ketchup. The tamis - anghang part is just perfect for my weird taste buds. Two: Blogs are usually (<—okay, this word here doesn’t make this a very sound truth but allow me some creative freedom here. Back to the show.) presented in journal style, with a new entry each day. Three: I like homonyms, too. Four: I have not been able to present my blog in journal style for the past… well, since I started it.
Here, now, the KETCHUP POST. The post that allows the reader to catch up on the tamis - anghangs of the week that was my life. Okay, so maybe none of it is all that interesting, but at least I can refer to this ketchup post when I write my autobiography, bland though it may be.
Thursday 15 September `Twas a bad day, indeed it was (made even worse by the fact that I already got my paycheck a few days before this day, which is a good thing, really, except I had nothing to look forward to by way of money on sweldo day itself… feh, I’m too needy). It seemed like all I ever did this day was talk, and write and talk and write and seethe. But I’m getting ahead of myself. I had several meetings lined up and, contrary to popular belief, meetings aren’t always fun and cheerful. Anyway, there was this one particular meeting that was getting hot and heavy in a bad way, and I was in the middle of all of it, talking and arguing and all the other fun things one does in meetings. Then I get a disturbing text message, then another, then… sigh. No, I don’t think I want to relive this moment anymore. All I know is that I was hurt by this text exchange, and I’m still hurting. I was so worried, then I felt used and then dismissed. I thought I made it clear how busy I was, yet the person chose to ignore this, and insisted on getting his way. I called Naja just to rant; the girl had to endure a mouthful from me (her blog is so pretty - looking, you should visit it). I’m ranting again. Screw it. Off to the next item. It was also on this day that I spoke to my friend Kai on the phone. I received a text message from her, far more genuine a cry for help than the others I’ve received that day. Anyway, it was a bad day for Kai, too. The poor thing was crying, after having gotten lost, wading through floodwater and being rejected by cabbies (ay, may lalala pa bang rejection?!) all in a span of a few hours. You can cross - reference her blog for more details (thus giving me an opportunity to promote another nice - looking piece of work). Being the naturally jolly person that she is, Kai eventually got over her little crisis, just as we all will get over and survive our crises of a few minutes, a few hours or days. It’s just a matter of time, and it helps to have friends to talk to or blogs to rant in. Then all is well.
Friday 16 September This may be a short entry because it’s all work, work, work. I was still reeling from the events of yesterday (sad thing: the person seems to think all is well. Sigh.), but there was still a lot to do. I took in two other meetings and one almost - screaming match which led to another meeting and more things to do. In that last meeting, we gave out assignments, got committments from the CG boys to get their work done on time, set deadlines and got on and off a creepy elevator. That story I will save for another day. There will be pictures! It was LP’s birthday, and because of all the busy - busy - han I got my text reminders out late, though I was able to sneak into the Beerkada forum for a Happy Birthday post. I made lots of work - related cellphone calls (remind me to reimburse), worked with Art and Amleth on the website and got some memos done. Hi -ho, Hi- ho, indeed. When I got home, there was more writing to do, this time for an event…er, I can’t tell you about it yet. Anyway, it’s one of my rackets, those writing jobs on the side that seem to come in all at the same time. I have my greed to blame for all those sleepless nights. Keep them coming, though, hehehe.
Saturday 17 September Kai’s birthday! I was able to get my text reminders out earlier than I did LP’s although still a lot later than I would have liked. I had to go to the office first to make sure that the boys were doing their stuff (nobody was there yet, of course), then it was off to Sta. Mesa to find a guitar for my goddaughter Gabby, who has birthday coming. She will be eight on the 22nd, and wants to learn how to play the guitar. That means Ninang had to get a guitar that’s the right size, but it also had to be a real guitar, none of that Tiny - Tim - and - his - Ukelele crap. My officemate Aids tipped me off to Lumanog, bar Cebu, the best guitar makers daw, and their stuff’s well - crafted and reasonably priced. I was armed with relatively clear directions, a map, and a driver and I still lost my way (not all my fault). It turns out, there are several music and sporting goods shops named Lumanog just off SM Centerpoint. I got Gabby a really nice little guitar (the standard - sized ones start at 800 pesos) that she can probably use till she’s, oh, 15. I sure hope she tells me right away if she has plans of becoming the next Aiza Seguerra so I can get her a matching leather jacket for her next birthday. Then I was off to Greenhills, hoping to get my reserved copies (hehe, copies. More than you know.) of Maya 7, Lightwave and Final Fantasy 7: Advent Children, which turned out to available Saturday yet. So, after a few minutes of chika with my friends from Marioland, I ended up buying a lot of food from that part of the tiangge that sells all sorts of and nothing but. Then, on to SM City to get L’Oreal Air Wear Face Powder for my friend Margie, whose birthday is on the 18th. Hell, it’s still shopping so I had fun, but my feet hurt. Time to go home, and I did. More work then, and that’s how the day ended.
Sunday 18 September I am always the bridesmaid, never the bride. Okay, this time, I shall be Maid of Honor to my friend Abi, who will marry Anthony in February 2006. So today, I was off to M. Yumul’s Bridal shop in Bicutan to get measurements for the MOH gown, but not before I left my Mother to stew in Fernan’s House of Beauty in Makati for her regular tina, perm and manicure session. Surprisingly, we got to Bicutan without getting the least bit lost. Really, we weren’t lost, Abi just gave really bad directions (”malapit sa Jollibee, lampas ng Lola Idang’s“. Half a kilometer from both these places was my target. I thought malapit meant like two doors down. I shoulda known.) I thought it was going to be a quick in and out, but the designer had clients still, so we went off to Anthony’s house, me and the other bridesmaids, for a hearty merienda. But there was the Wedding Video yet to be shot, and a camera that had to be out soonest, so I had to begin doing my MOH - ly duties by interviewing Mothers, Fathers, Brothers, Sisters, how do you brush your teeth, plus friends and grandmothers and aunts and uncles and myself even. Before I knew it, it was way past my time to go, and I told Abi I had to take leave before my Mother ended up looking like an overcooked poodle. Then we got lost, as driver Jun forgot how to get us out of the subdivision. Following a tricycle (they must have thought we were stalking them), we soon saw the bright lights of SM Bicutan and off we were to pick up my Mother. Turns out she got a haircut but no perm, so the poodle thing was nothing but a funny virtual visual. Did you get that? We were home by 9 pm and, as usual, my day ends with work. Hay, ang hirap kumita ng pera.
Monday 19 September Finally. What can I say? I brought food (yema, macaroons and chinese biscuit thingies), wrote letters, visited the boys upstairs, ate food, made phone calls, received phone calls and text messages, argued and talked and argued, smoked (1 pack, v. bad, but not all at the same time so v. good), worked on the website again with Art and Amleth, waited for faxes I never received, set meetings that never happened because everyone was busy with something else — today I worked. Again. In between, I posted on the Beerkada forums and the office forum, talked to Margie and Marie, made a delivery of food and stuff to Merch and watched parts of School of Rock, starring my favorite Jack Black. I went home to more work, but s’okay. It was a good, productive day.
All in all? A tamis - anghang week, but I am sooo not complaining. I was able to ketchup, and do all (well, most of) the things I love. Just let me rant once in a while. It’s my blog.
Still up, thinking. I should’ve listened to my best friend and popped a DVD into the machine to clear my mind. Instead, I spent the wee hours of the morning working…and thinking some more. In the background of all this is SkyCable’s Cinema One, where Pik Pak Boom just aired. My peripheral vision and excellent hearing tell me that Pik Pak Boom is one of those trilogies, except it has only two parts, which made me think that they should have called it Pik Pak or Pak Boom instead. Now I’m right smack in the middle of Wag Mong Ubusin Ang Bait Ko. It stars Lito Lapid, Jackie Forster as Lapid’s wife and Maricar De Mesa who will probably…er, turn over Lapid’s letters in this film.
Wag Mong Ubusin Ang Bait Ko. Now, what does that mean? Is that bait as in “good” or bait as in “sanity”? Maybe bait as in fish food?
Oy, shoulda replayed something like Shrek instead. Waaay better singing and acting.
That’s as random as I can get.
No, not the Star Cinema film lauded by… well, Star Cinema. I’m talking about the 9 Mornings that I am looking forward to this October; 9 mornings that I can hopefully spend in utter stupor. Get a load of this:
October 29 - Saturday
October 30 - Sunday
October 31 - Monday Halloween, and (I sure hope we can trust The Palace on this one) a day usually declared holiday by the powers that be, so people can haul ass to bus terminal and make the yearly trek to their loved ones’ final resting places in as little traffic as possible (although I have trouble seeing how declaring it a holiday for everyone helps, because how can everyone travel ahead of everyone else when everyone is travelling ahead of…where was I?).
November 1 - Tuesday All Saints’ Day. Everyone should be there by now.
November 2 - Wednesday Everyone’s still there.
November 3 - Thursday Eid’l Fitr That is, Ramadan. We can trust The Palace on this one, I think. Who knows where anyone is?
November 4 - Friday Now who in her right mind would even think of showing up for work?
November 5 - Saturday
November 6 - Sunday
Do you see what I’m getting at here?
So Friday I was hanging out at the Reception Counter at work, catching up with my co - worker Dave who, along with the other guys in the CG Department, recently moved up into a world of their own on the 6th Floor expansion area (artists need their space, but they’re still not getting that Playstation). He was telling me about his 21 - month old daughter Laura, my absolutely adorable kabarkada, and how much smarter she’s become. He says she loves the PS2 games I gave her. Then he tells me about this thing he read somewhere, about how a large part of the terrorist budget (for sowing terror, I suppose) comes from the sale of pirated DVDs (and DVD games, see above). Great.
How unnerving it was to find out that my pirated copies of Crash and Charlie and The Chocolate Factory could have possibly contributed to the “success” of the recent ferry bombing in Basilan, or even that one in London! Damn, does that ever put a whole new spin on this dibidi, dibidi business.
I buy them dibidis because I love movies and collect them, but I can’t afford the P850 - 1,000+ price tag for the originals. I buy DVD games because I’m a video game/Playstation 2 addict, but I can’t afford the P2,000 - 4,000+ price tag for the originals. And I thought that was all.
Is this a true story? Was it an act of prejudice (as in “eh, they’re Muslim, anything they do must be terror - related…” Most definitely not my thoughts, okay?)? An urban legend? An ugly rumor designed to sow intrigue? Maybe a desperate attempt by the OMD to put an end to a war they are losing?
Dave reading about it, that’s a true story. As for the rest, that “buy - a - dibidi - and - TAKE - a - life” part, is that true? Maybe we’ll never know for sure. But it makes you think. I suppose that’s what this story primarily does. It reminds you how big a picture we’re each a part of. We know this, we just forget sometimes. There is so much more to it than just getting a high score, or seeing a film before everybody else. I sure hope this doesn’t make people think in a way that is prejudicial or destructive or evil.
So will this stop me from buying pirated DVDs and Playstation 2 games? See, that’s the thing. I don’t know. And I don’t think so. But what a reminder.
Big Picture. Waaay big. Wow.
Having been blessed today with a little free time, I was able to do two things that I have not been able to do for the past two months: visit the dentist and get my nails done. Two things you should know about me: I’m not a dentist; and I can’t cut my own nails. You will forgive me for not knowing how to plug a cavity or perform a root canal, but I think I have to explain why I can’t cut my nails. The short answer is: I don’t know how. If at any time I feel daring and take nailcutter to nailcuttee, I’m pretty sure I’ll damage myself. And I know this because I have. Damaged myself, that is. Not the bloody, infected, call - the - priest - she’s - buying - the - farm kind of damage. But I can never get it right. The sides are still too long, or the tips are all askew, and the edges are always rough and bothersome. And they grow back all wrong and funny. Trust me on this.
Anyway, my visit to the dentist was uneventful. She just checked up on the root canal I got two months ago (I was there every Satuday for 5 months getting it done, but that’s another story.). My nails, however, were so long, that my nail technician (naks! And she likes being called that, too.) gave me a really strange look. After the long -overdue session with the nailcutter, and a few minutes more of nail clippings flying all over the place — not a pleasant sight — she got down to the manicure, and voila! My nails are short and neat, nicely manicured (Essie Nail Polish in Pachinko Pale, best for Filipino skintones) and ready for anything.
I’m ruining them right now on my keyboard. Ahhh, no worries. I’ll see my technician in two weeks. I think.
Towards the end of yet another marathon telebabad session, my best friend told me about BBC Radio, which she says she now listens to almost daily. I’ve always liked BBC’s stuff anyway, mostly the kind I get on cable tv, and I remember listening to all the BBC Radio I could get my, er, ears on on a 14 hour trip to L.A. But what a great re - discovery it was this time around; it’s got comedy/drama, classical, pop and other stations which weren’t all available to me on that butt - flattening flight. The comedy stuff is absolutely brilliant — uh - oh, I’m doing them now. Check it out. I plan to listen to it at work, where I feel it’ll help me the most. Thank goodness for headphones and a lurvely broadband connection. It gets so bloody boring sometimes. Which means there’s not much to tell about work today. I was friends with the computer most of the day, and for a few hours back there I actually believed writing would give me a nosebleed. More when I can.
This is my bulldog Ma. Moira, or Mamoi for short. I’m posting this because she looks like how I’ve been feeling these past few months. I’ve got lots to do, and I work hard, but why does it seem like I’m not getting anything done?
These are my Labrador Retrievers Tisoy (real name: Tisoy Sauce) and Negro (real name: Cerveza Negro). I’m sure you can tell who’s who. I wanted to name them Neo and Morpheus, but my mother had absolutely no idea what I was talking about. Anyway, they get space here because I want what they’re having. Let sleeping dogs lie. I know, it means something else, but it works on a non-figurative level, so use that. Looks like sleep’s not going to happen anytime soon. Not to me, anyway. Oh, well.
This here’s my cat, a Persian - Himalayan mix. I don’t know any Himalayan names, so I had to call him Saddam. His picture’s here because he’s been missing since May, and I’ve been lost since June.
Back to work. Yippee.
They’re supposed to be great. For others, a “lost weekend” is getting drunk and waking up the next afternoon with nary a memory of the night that passed. But beacuse I want to earn more and save up, my “lost weekend” is just…lost. Gone. I work. On weekends. Yes, I know. I suppose I’ve got no one to blame but myself for this sorry state I’m in. Well, maybe that Canon digital camera I’ve got my eye on. And that laptop. And that Tod’s wallet. And that life as a writer financed by the earnings of a half - lifetime. Oh, I’ve come back.
So I guess I should get back to work now, huh?
