Snuffles

Snuffles whimpered, Snuffles cried.
I hurried downstairs, and sat by her side
She was in her box and wanted to play,
I told her no, then walked away.


Her barks got louder, and I gave in
She ran & jumped, it made me grin
I thought to myself, how bad could it be?
Then she hopped on my bed and started to pee.

Wonder Ponder

It takes one Jessica Zafra to mess up with your thinking with these questions:

1. If Jesus were cloned, would that be his Second Coming?
2. After the shoe bomber was discovered, we had to take off our shoes for the airport security check. On Friday a man was foiled in the attempt to blow up a plane using chemicals and a syringe sewn into his underwear, so what kind of airport security check are we in for?
3. Stephen Dorff's quest in Blade was to take over the human race and turn everyone into vampires. Which raises the conundrum: If everyone's a vampire, who will the vampires eat?

From her Twisted book series.
Check out her blog: http://www.jessicarulestheuniverse.com/

So Why Vegetarian?

In between doing the laundry and procrastinating to clean up the fish tank, one may be inspired to write imaginary conversations. Like how I've imagined myself to be on the Tyra "I don't ever shut up" Banks Show, sitting demurely on the couch, hands folded on my lap, indifferent and detached from the probing stare of the audience.

Tyra: So they tell me you're vegetarian.
Me: Uh-huh.
Tyra: How long has it been?
Me: Almost 4 years.
Tyra: Why?
Me: The long or short version of it?
Tyra: We only have 30 minutes. Let's have the short version.
Me: I like animals so I don't eat them. I don't like the smell of fried death on my plate.
Tyra: Do you sit with people who eat meat?
Me: Yes, unless they're carrying a highly contagious viral disease. Or I just don't like them.
Tyra: Do you ever tell people to stop eating meat?
Me: Why would I want to do that?
Tyra: Because you're advocating a noble cause.
Me: If I wanted to be preachy, I should've become a nun, not a vegetarian. Being vegetarian was a choice, not a self-righteous conviction to make meat-eaters feel bad for devouring the leg of a pig, chicken or cow.
Tyra (awkward silence): So do vegetarians eat animal crackers?
Me: Remind me, what were you doing again before becoming a talk show host?

Cut to commercial.

Mom & Dad Have Spoken

These are the types of conversations I miss at home.

Mom: So, when do you think can we pick up the photograph? (they had a photograph enlarged)
Dad: When it's done.
Right.

After finishing off a stick of pork barbecue, macaroni salad, a KFC chicken wrap, a quarter of roasted chicken and a cup of fruit salad...
Dad: Hmmm, I think I'm full.
Operative word: Think.

Dad (in reference to Boxer the Shih Tzu): This stupid dog accidentally sat and parked his balls on my big toe, and when I moved my foot, he threatened to bite me!?!
Well, if somebody kicked you in the balls, wouldn't you?

Cousin John helping to unwrap my mom's gifts...
John (holding up a mug): This is a good gift...for recycling.
John (holding up an umbrella): This is useful...for Christmas raffle.
John (holding up a chic handmade candle): This smells nice...can I have it?

Losing Snow in December

She barked incessantly from the balcony of our provincial home to catch our attention - a beautiful Japanese Spitz hiding underneath a coat of mottled fur, desperate for human love and attention. After losing nine dogs to the deadly canine parvovirus disease, I was vulnerable to all things yapping. I begged for my uncle to let us bring her home, and promised to take good care of her. Seeing how his niece was so smitten by the dog, how could he refuse?

Her cotton-soft, white fur earned her the name Snowflake. She was a meek and gentle soul, not one to senselessly and annoyingly yelp her balls off (not that she had any). Our extended family eventually grew, with the addition of a Shih-Tzu from a cousin, and a mixed breed of Maltese and Japanese Spitz from an ex-boyfriend (funny how the ex had to go, and the dog gets to stay). Snowflake was never the troublemaker among our brood of three mutts. She's always been the amicable, harmless, endearing ball of white fluff that everyone liked.

A few weeks ago, Snowflake developed a dog rash and lost a lot of fur. I live overseas so I only found out that she was suffering from the skin disease when I came home a few days ago. I was shocked to see my old girl in such a decrepit state. She was almost blind and half-deaf, but she struggled to get on her feet when she saw me. I was able to stroke and kiss her nose before she collapsed on the floor. My heart bled at the sorry sight of my dog who had inevitably fallen prey to old age. We took her to the vet but even the vet did not bother to raise our hopes that our little furball will make it. She died December 21st.

I hope you're getting the best Christmas dog chow in heaven, old girl. Woof in style like I taught ya.

Christmas Wishlist

Raise your hand if you're sick of getting mugs and picture frames for Christmas. Raise the other hand if you re-wrap and recycle these gifts and give them to your least favorite in-laws (mom, put your hand up!). Ergo, here's a shameless, thick-skinned post on what I want for Christmas so you don't have to figure me out (kudos for even trying).


1. Sony E-Book/Kindle Reader - It feeds your mind, it's entertaining, it saves space, it saves trees - do I still need to spell out how much I really, really want this?
2. Shower Gel - In their tooty fruity glory. Not a fan of floral scents. Jasmine reminds me of Santo Nino figurines and jeepney rearview mirrors (Pinoys, you know exactly what I'm talking about).
3. Fun, colorful undies - In my cousins's twisted logic, in case of sudden death, wearing ugly granny panties won't be one of your life's biggest regrets.
4. Sports/gym clothes - If you pay for the gym membership, that'd be great too.
5. Massage/spa/pedicure vouchers - Hey, we live in a stressful world. A lady's got to pamper herself - a lot.
6. Vegetarian/healthy/organic food - If we are what we eat, I won't be surprised if one day I turn into grass.

My .001 Second Subway Commercial Stint

Do Models Eat? They Do, and They Want Extra Rice

I'm dishing out my first hand experience on what models eat, after spending three days with them during the F1 event. I took it upon myself to broadcast to the world that not all models have eating disorders (they still bitch and backstab, mind you). I'm not sure if it's because they're Asians, or because they're in their teens, or because they have a bone density 20% lighter than normal human beings. Or maybe they just have superfast metabolisms that even batting an eyelash burns 100 calories.

During the event, most of us got out of bed late, and we typically lumped breakfast with lunch at around 1PM. For one model, lunch translated to a McDonald's cheeseburger, Coke and fries, and for another, a chicken turnover pie. One model chomped on a curry puff and washed it down with a tall Starbucks Frappuccino. If you think they force themselves to throw up after eating, I didn't see anybody make a beeline for the ladies' room, so trust me when I say they're not bulimic.

We have dinner at around 7 or 8PM and models usually trundle into the huddle room grumbling about their aching feet and how hungry they were, as if they haven't been fed for days. One model would always ask me if I was going to eat my rice and was delighted to find out I hardly ate rice. She grabbed all the rice she can scoop out of my bento box, and started scouring for other rice sources. This girl was downright skinny - I wish I knew where she stores her rice reserves. There was a time when one girl brought in a box of Popeye's chicken for dinner, and it's ironic to see how these girls munching on the drumstick had legs as skinny as the chicken they're eating.

I've also worked with girls who have a flourishing relationship with desserts. Everytime the waiter brings out a fresh tray of lavishly decorated cocoa concoctions, their eyes would follow the waiter hungrily and they literally drooled over the fancy tarts. Towards the end of the night, one of the models couldn't resist asking the food & beverage coordinator if we could try the desserts. It only took a winning smile from the model and we had our daily supply of tarts, tiramisu and chocolate truffles from the buffet table. The models devoured the heavenly blocks of chocolate and colorful shotglasses of lush cream and strawberries without a care for calories or their waistline.

By now, you're probably whining "life is unfair!", rocking back and forth, and regretting to have foregone that doughnut this morning, because, hey, this whole diet thing is pointless anyway. You're probably itching to strangle these models who can eat anything they want and not worry about gaining weight. Know that my sympathy goes out to you. Like you and most people, I am predisposed to fast weight gain (no thanks to my dad's fat-storing genes) and have to work harder to combat metabolic slowdown in my late 20's. But I don't mind, because this has forced me to choose a lifestyle that's healthier and more sustainable in the long run. The extra rice and Popeye's chicken wings will eventually find their way into these girls' hips, and they will start packing on the tubs of lard once they hit their 30's.

But then again, maybe they won't. I can then say life's a bitch.

It's Smoking

I wrote three blogs today, my most prolific so far! I will keep this last one short because I'm almost running out of creative juices and my brain can't think of anything else but "zzzzz, zzzzz".

I went on a trekking trip to Mount Bromo in East Java Indonesia last weekend. I've never seen an active volcano up close before and watching smoke rise from the crater was truly breathtaking. Nevermind the smell of rotten eggs, or somebody who ate three cans of baked beans passing gas (okay, okay, too graphic). We woke up at 3:30AM to start hiking and catch the sunrise atop the volcano. The 3 kilometer trek to the mountain was eerie. There was nothing but a wide desert of ashes and random vegetation - it was like walking into twilight zone. The last part was a 250-step climb to the viewing deck. Here's what we saw from the top of the mountain...










Bromo from afar...

Turn Up Your Nose and Hold Your Breath

I've been in Singapore for more than two years and I claim to be a stench expert after riding the train and the bus everyday. We shall not name ethnicities lest I be accused of being racist.

I present you, the eau the toilette! (pron. oh the toilet!):

The Poopy Love - I have no idea how it is humanly possible to smell like dog poop, but I sat right next to a man today who smelled like he actually rolled over his dog's crap or hung his clothes next to the dog's shitpile. Whatever. It does exist.

Treasure Chest - Literally. There are people who smell like they've found their clothes from a long, forgotten chest that belonged to their great forefathers. The odor is similar to wet clothes that have been stored and forgotten in the closet, only to be discovered and worn a month later.

Bad Pitt - Usually, these are fine-looking men who wear long-sleeved shirts and walk to the train station for ten minutes, stealthily gathering sweat in their armpits. The moment they raise their arms to hang on to the railings, boom! they unleash the monster and it hits you straight in the face.

In Your Face - They either haven't visited the dentist for five years, or they ate garbage for breakfast, but their breath REALLY stinks. And just to spite the rest of us, they breathe through their mouths. Heavily.

Au Naturel - Blame it on diet, blame it on hygiene, but whatever it is, these people should know that deodorants were invented for a reason.

Sweat & Sour - Ah yes, the distinctive smell of sweat, which is only acceptable if you're a hunky football player or you're Hugh Jackman. But since most people here are neither, they should know that taking a shower is a MUST after going to the gym or playing sports. Especially in a tropical country where sweating is a national pastime.

I personally feel these stinkers should be fined for inconsiderately suffocating their fellow passengers with their fetid smell and polluting what little shared air there is to breathe. Didn't they know it is their social responsibility to take a shower every morning? Jeez.

The FLM Movement

I will never be a proper blogger. I'm too random, too inconsistent and just too lazy to report the daily happenings in my life. I have no interesting stories to tell nor daily inspirations to share. Being parked behind a computer desk 8 hours a day is hardly conducive to poetic musings (unless the likes of Gael Garcia Bernal emerges out of my computer screen, which on second thought is not really that sexy cause it reminds me of The Ring).

It also doesn't help that I have the knack for starting things and never really get to finishing them (case in point: "Ironies", "Trivias" and "Filipinize Literature for the Masses" movement are still marked "to be continued"). Well, now that I'm reminded of my FLM movement (hmm, the acronym sounds like a low-budget porn production company), especially in this month of honoring our national language, I took a stab at translating a few paragraphs from one of my favorite books, Never Hit a Jellyfish with a Spade by Guy Browning.

Huwag na Huwag Hampasin ang Dikya ng Pala

Papaano...Gumising sa Umaga
Ang paggising sa umaga ay parang panganganak: minsan mabilis at madali, minsan akala mo oras na ngunit hindi pa pala, maraming kasamang tulak at napakaraming oras ng paghihirap.

May iilang mga taong gustong-gusto ang mga tahimik at payapang sandali bago magbukang-liwayway. Sa totoo lang, wala namang nakakakilala sa mga taong ito kasi lahat tayo tulog pa. Ang isang pahiwatig kung sino ang mga taong ito ay lumalabas dakong gabi, kung kailan alas-siyete y media palang eh binabati ka na nila ng gudnayt.

Ang mga taong hirap gumising ay gumagawa ng mga mautak na paraan upang makabangon sa umaga. Mahusay ang mga de-alarmang orasan na kayang pabangunin maski ang patay, lalo na kung ilalagay mo ito malayo sa iyong tabi. Kaya lang, sa sobrang gulat at pagkabingi mo sa lakas ng de-alarmang orasan na ito, kakailangan mong bumalik ulit sa kama at matulog ng isang oras upang makabawi sa pagka-trauma.

Original text:

Never Hit a Jellyfish with a Spade

How to...Get Up

Waking up in the morning is like a little birth: sometimes it's very quick and easy, and sometimes it takes many false alarms, a lot of pushing and hours of labour.

There is a very small group of people who love those quiet, peaceful moments just before the dawn. No one really knows who these people are because the rest of us are all fast asleep. A clue as to who they are comes later in the day when, just after half past seven in the evening, they say goodnight.

People who have difficulty getting up have devised all sorts of foolproof ways of getting themselves out of bed. Alarm clocks which would wake up the dead are great, especially if you place them out of arm's reach. However, when these go off, they give you such a profound shock you have to go back to bed for an hour to get over the trauma.

Not bad eh?

Kailanman ay hindi pa ako nakapagsulat sa aking sariling wika. Marahil ito ay dahil sa pangkaraniwang paniwala na kapag magaling kang mag-Inggles, matalino ka, at alam naman nating lahat na hindi totoo 'yon. Mas madalas akong magsulat sa Inggles kasi palagay ko, mas nakakatawa ako kapag nagsulat ako sa Inggles (palagay ko lang naman 'yon. Hindi niyo kailangang sumang-ayon), at gustuhin ko man, hindi ko matatamo ang lalim ng pagTa-Tagalog ng mga batikang manunulat tulad nina Domingo Landicho o Liwayway Arceo. Maalam ako sa tamang pagbaybay (at pagagalitan ko ang mga Pilipinong hindi alam ang pagkakaiba ng "ng" sa "nang") at balarila (sa mga hindi nakakaalam, heto'ng sa inyo http://tl.wikipedia.org/wiki/Balarila), pero hindi ko lang makuhang maging katawa-tawa sa Tagalog (kung sabagay, hindi naman talaga ako nakakatawa - ang kulit ko talaga). At kinasusuklaman ko ang mga pinaikling pagbabaybay sa cellphone. Aminin man natin o hindi, nakakabobo ito. Mahina na nga sa pagbaybay sa Inggles, mahina rin sa Filipino. Ano ba 'yan? Saan na lang tayo pupulutin niyan? (Sagot: Sa kangkungan, saan pa?)

Ang rason kung bakit bigla akong napa-Tagalog ay nang mabasa ko ang aklat ni Jessica Zafra na hindi ko man iniidolo ay labis kong hinahangaan. Sabi niya kasi, bakit hindi kaya natin isalin ang mga sikat at kagila-gilalas na mga banyagang katha para ito ay maunawaan ng mas nakararami sa atin? Oo nga naman, kung ang "Inferno" nga ni Dante Alighieri ay naisalin mula Italyano sa Inggles nang hindi nawawala ang diwa, maaari din natin itong gawin sa Filipino.

Magandang proyekto ito, hindi ba? Mapag-isipan nga.

25 Random Things

I'm blogging my own version of this inane Facebook meme to self-indulge and spend ten minutes talking about the best person on earth...me.

1. And that's the first random thing - I'm self-centered and vain.
2. I love ketchup. Anything that's worth dunking and squirting over asks for ketchup. I sometimes feel bad for eating cherry tomatoes with ketchup. I feel like I'm insulting the tomato by dipping it in its pureed cousins...like feeding KFC to a chicken.
3. The four things that frighten me the most: blood, lightning, flying roaches and deep water (if my feet don't touch the bottom, consider me drowned).
4. I'm a gym rat. I've been going to the gym since I was 18 years old.
5. I could be orthorexic. I don't like oily food, I don't eat chicken, pork, beef, fish, and seafood. I rarely eat rice, I'm not a big fan of potato chips and I avoid sweets like the plague. I obsessively count calories.
6. I used to be obese when I was a kid. Which explains numbers 4 & 5.
7. I'm lactose intolerant. If you force-feed me dairy, make sure we're not stuck in the same room for the next 20 minutes or you will die of gas poisoning, I promise.
8. I used to collect Pupung Comic books, and even had one autographed by Tonton Young.
9. My mom took me to a Menudo concert when I was five because I liked Robbie Rosa when I was a kid. I slept during the concert.
10. My teen Friday nights were spent drooling over Jason Priestly in Beverly Hills 90210, and watching Doogie Howser MD type his medical musings in his DOS/Wordstar computer diary. Late Saturday mornings were for Mr. Bogus.
11. I began to be financially responsible at 15 years old, when I got an Easycall pager and started paying for the bills with my weekly allowance.
12. I have a good memory. Assuming I'm not in a sorry drunken state when you meet me, I will remember everything you say and it will be stored in a little file cabinet in my brain with your name on it, ready to be used for future blackmail, I mean reference.
13. I love oatmeal. I can eat it for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Maybe I was a horse or cow in my previous life.
14. I have a high tolerance for heat and hot weather. I could sleep without air conditioning on 38 degree summer nights in Manila, and even snuggle under the bed covers.
15. I used to have a dog named Toffee, who had an undescended testicle (read: he only had one ball) and was assumed to be a homosexual dog. A by-product of canine incestuous relations. So I guess it proves that for your future children's sake, marry somebody outside of your family.
16. I like looking up words in the dictionary.
17. I like reading trivia, half of which I don't really care to remember. I just need to satiate my brain with a 5-second "ahhh" or "hmm".
18. I seldom cry at funerals, or during those Hallmark moments like graduations and weddings. Where everybody else seems to have hyperactive tear ducts, I'm always completely dry-eyed. But I'm a total sap for movies - I cried watching Disney's Lion King.
19. I hate being late. I'm not a very patient woman. The faster we can get things done, the better (disclaimer: this does not apply to "other things").
20. When I was a kid, my school bus would pass by this house inhabited by an exhibitionist. He would crack open the gate and come out naked. Boy, was he bushy.
21. I develop bad phobias from gruesome experiences. My phobia of blood started when I saw two men fighting on the street, with one man being violently clubbed on the head with a metal pipe. The sight of that bloodstained pipe triggered my hemoglobin anxiety.
22. I passed out many times due to hypoglycemia or fatigue. Three out of these several episodes happened during Sunday mass, which led my father to suspect they might be linked to something demonic or un-Catholic, and accused me of not praying hard enough.
23. I had my first beer when I was fifteen. This was when I found out I was allergic to alcohol. My hands became very itchy and were swollen for three days - I looked like I was wearing Mickey Mouse's glove.
24. My first job was working as a graphic designer at a photocopier company, where I got paid PHP8,000 per month. I lasted for two months.
25. The first car that I drove was a 1978 Corona which we named "Honda Civac". It had waded through and survived many a Sampaloc floods, had a steering wheel that required full muscular force to maneuver (ergo, my toned biceps), a windshield wiper that required poking or fistpounding to work, and a stick shift limited to fourth gear.

If We Are What We Eat

Then I would be a breathing glob of calcium, protein compounds majority of which is avenalin, water, caffeine, fructose and soluble fiber. Sigh.

These Boots Were Made For Walking

I've been trying to think of a great way to kick off this entry on my first backpacking trip with Romain in the Philippines, but immediately recognized the notorious rambler preambler habit, which often leads to unfinished blogs. So to play it safe, I'll settle for the old-fashioned timestamping, to prevent me from digressing and drifting...

DAY 1: It's Time Everyone Flies
We took the early morning Cebu Pacific flight to Clark and went straight to the Victory Liner station in Dau to board the first bus to Baguio. The bus was an ice box on wheels and 5 hours later, Romain and I were two walking ice cubes on Session Road desperately looking for a bus headed to Banaue. Luck wasn't on our side because the last bus to Bontoc left 45 minutes earlier. We hopped on the first bus to Sagada instead and I was sad to find out that the rough roads that were disemboweling us then, were the same dirt roads that I traveled with my family during my first trip to Sagada 6 or 8 years ago. Thanks to the adept pocketing skills of our local government, those roads never saw the light of cementing day.

DAY 2: 2-in-1 DVD: Tomb Raider and The Mummy

Sagada was the same old quiet town that I knew. The cabin-type Masferre restaurant was still standing proud next to the Municipal Hall. We checked in at the Ganduyan Inn & Cafe which was relatively cheap and clean. It, however, crushed my dreams of having a long, hot shower because the broken electric heater no longer responded to excessive tinkering and fist pounding. As much as you would love to complain and bitch about the situation, losing half your brains on a 6-hour bumpy bus ride wouldn't leave you with much energy.

The day after we headed early to the Sumaging and Burial Caves. Sumaging was still as beautiful as I remember. The descent was really rough, and requires a lot of tactical footing and maneuvering, something your body wasn't designed to do first thing in the morning. Which probably explains why, at one point, I slipped and slid down the rock ala-Lara Croft. If the guide hadn't been there to break my fall, I would've fallen into a crevice of oblivion (or maybe just a shallow pit of batshit...who knows? I'm glad I didn't have to find out). I was grateful the fall was accompanied by a very sexy, Keanu Reeves-ish "Whooooooaaaaaaa!!!!" than a shrill, wussy shriek "Eeeeeeeeeekk!!!".

Sagada Burial Caves


Aye, aye captain. We're going in...


DAY 3: On The Road Again
We took a jeepney to Bontoc, which was 4 hours away from Sagada. From Bontoc, we got on the bus to Banaue where we would stay for the night. The bus was packed and cramped with all sorts of things - people, kaings of vegetables, walis-tambo, padala boxes, strawberry-shortcake bags...thank God for small blessings, no one brought cockfighting roosters in pocked boxes.

We were halfway to Bontoc when we ran into a roadblock - a tractor was clearing the path for a road widening project (which would be finished when the local official gets re-elected in 2012, pardon my skepticism). But it was a good butt relief and the view was amazing...

People milling around impatiently...


Nice view of the Cordilleras...



DAY 4: No Wonder It's The Eighth Wonder
We arrived in Banaue by nightfall and stayed at Greenview Lodge. The plan was to go to Batad early next morning and start off from Kinakin, hiking all the way to Cambolo, a local village. From Cambolo, we would cut through Batad - an estimated trek of 6 hours in total.

The first leg of the trek was a moderately steep ascent, which got us hot and sweaty (rid thyself of those perverted thoughts) but the rest of the walk was pretty flat. We came across curious botanical species, beautiful waterfalls, and windows of breathtaking sceneries.



We were stumped again, for the second time, by another road-widening project. It was like crossing a landslide - muddy, unstable and completely dangerous. But the brave trekkers ploughed on...and made it to Cambolo.



The long, tedious walk was rewarded by steaming red rice freshly pounded earlier in the day, and stir-fried vegetables.





After lunch, we found ourselves in a dilemma. The road leading to Batad, which should've made up the last two hours of our trek, was blocked and no longer passable due to the road-widening being done atop the mountain (this road-widening turned out to be the bane of our existence). We had to trek all the way back to the mountain and take the longer route.

Eight hours, five Cloud 9's and 2000 calories burned later, we reached the beautiful terraces of Batad.

We stayed in Simon's Inn, which finally had hot water (hurray! nothing beats good old-school kettle boiling), and decent food which came long after our gastric juices have digested and re-digested themselves. We called it a night and gave our sore muscles some much-deserved rest.

DAY 5: The Stratovolcano of the 90's


We left at the crack of dawn, because jeepneys only come to Batad until 9AM. The hike up to the jeepney terminal takes about an hour, and there were no happy faces that morning, only grunts and plenty of huffing and puffing. We had to catch the earliest jeepney to Solano, Nueva Vizcaya, and get a bus to Tarlac for our Pinatubo trek. The bus from Solano to Dagupan was the best ass-buster of all. I was like a fratman being beaten incessantly by a dos-por-dos for 5 grueling hours. We subsisted on Cloud 9 and Skyflakes during the trip, and for that I thank Jack N' Jill and M.Y. San for supplying our carb and glucose needs.

We finally reached Capas at 9PM, and managed to find Jason's Garden Inn, which was a cheap motel pretty close to the Philippine Air Force Camp where the Pinatubo Tourist Center was. It was very easy to arrange the Pinatubo trek. We paid PHP1750 each, which covered the cost of the 4x4 vehicle, driver and trek guide. The ride to the base of the mountain took almost an hour and the trek itself took a little more than an hour. There were a few ascends, but the challenge was to trek on volcanic rocks and cross streams. It's advisable for first time trekkers to wear proper hiking shoes. Waterproof's the best, if you want to walk through streams instead of tip-toeing and balancing on mangled igneous remains.



It wasn't the first time during the trek that I asked myself what pleasure do I get from being sweaty, dirty, exhausted, not to mention growing calves as big as Schwarzenegger's, when I could've easily stayed in the comforts of my home, watching movies or reading a book. But this is what makes every step, every calorie burned, every sore joint, every bruise, and yes, even having calves on steroids, worth it...





We heart the Philippines!

Ladies of Leisure Quote of the Day

Whatever you give a woman, she will make it greater.

If you give her sperm, she'll give you a baby. 

If you give her a house, she'll give you a home.

If you give her groceries, she'll give you a meal. 

If you give her a smile, she'll give you her heart. 

She multiplies and enlarges what is given to her.  

So, if you give her any crap, be ready to receive a ton of shit.

Hot or Not Hollywood Candyfest

I was at a send-off dinner the other night with my colleagues and how we wound up into a featherbrained, cacophonous discussion of who's hot and who's not in Hollywood, nobody could really recall. The decision was unanimous that David Hasselhoff will never make it to the list (*For those who disagree, don't bother to comment as I prefer not to argue with people who have bad taste).

The conversation was concluded by each persons' Hollywood's Top 5. Quite frankly, the last time I drew up a list was in high school, and I've never given it some thought my entire working life, simply because I prefer not to spend my hours of ennui dreaming of screwing Hollywood actors I can never have.

Nonetheless, here's who made it to my Top 5. I don't exactly go for the manufactured popstars of today, so don't expect Zac Efron to even come close to making it to the Top 10.

1. Gael Garcia Bernal
Like Shoemart, you got it all.

2. Christian Bale
The dark, brooding kind.

3. Hugh Jackman
Scratch me with your claws.

4. Jude Law
So what if you're a manhoe?

5. Will Smith
The epitome of cool


Still in the running...
Ethan Hawke
First crushes never die.

Clive Owen
Did somebody say sex appeal?

Johnny Depp
But why Vanessa Paradis?

And here's the latest addition to the Hollywood manfest...
Tyson Jay Ritter!

Burning the Bridge Before You Get There

And just when you thought you'd finally see the first (amongst a slew of firsts) love of your adolescent life, reality bites you in the butt like a nasty bedbug hiding within the springs and frayed cotton of your mattress. The Bridge Project brings Ethan Hawke to Singapore in William Shakespeare's The Winter's Tale on March 26th to 31st...the week when I'll be back in the Philippines. Nooooooooooooooooooooo..... (fades into oblivion....)

Seethes...

Somebody suggested moving my flight. Erm, if it were an Ethan Hawke-Will Smith-Jude Law ogling repertoire, i.e. butt or frontal flashes involved, I might reconsider.

Never Hit a Jellyfish with a Spade

Snippets of Guy Browning's metaphorical wisdom that gave me heaps of amusement before bedtime.

"The four horsemen of glumness are tiredeness, boredom, rain and low blood-sugar level. Any of them can lead to minor glumness, while all four together can lead to the very serious irritable bastard syndrome."


"Socializing shouldn't be confused with socialism. Socialists are the ones who like to meet people's needs, and socialites are the needy ones who like to meet people."

"If it's true that you are what you eat, then Britain is currently raising a large population of chicken nuggets."

"Brown toast isn't really much good because it doesn't change colour when you toast it. Brown bread already has a lot of attitude, and toasting is like punishing it for being too good for you in its natural state. With white bread you feel as though you're doing it a favour toasting it. It's like two weeks in the Caribbean for it.

Some people cut off the crusts of their toast. These are people who don't understand where real pleasure lies - the sort of people who cycle with helmets in the country or have sex in their pyjamas."

On dunking biscuits...
"Most people opt for the safety dunk, where you just dip a litle bit of the biscuit in and then suck off the soggy bit. More dangerous is the slam dunk, where you put the entire biscuit in up to your fingertips and then whip it out at the last moment. There is a very real risk that you'll end up with the entire body of your biscuit lying cementified on the bottom of the mug. This gives the opportunity for those who don't dunk to feel fantastically superior. Non-dunkers say they enjoy the contrast between warm and wet, and dry and hard. Perverts."

"If you're binge eating, the real question you should be asking yourself is not what you're eating but what's eating you."