sunnysideups

trips

Sat, 30 May 2009 07:13:25 GMT

Who's ready for a threesome?

Me Me MEEEEEE!!!

**announcement: am deleting this blog i a couple of days, LJ posts will be moved to my "oldest oldest blog". Meanwhile, I will be haunting http://sexymoodswings.blogspot.com. Hope to hear from you all. Mwah.

cabben

Mon, 04 May 2009 17:29:52 GMT

The informal jottings of a hometown tourist

I went to the BenCab Museum in Baguio City this weekend, to make a feature story on the newly opened art gallery-cum-eco-tour-area-cum-cafe.

A good omen of things to come, the taxi driver cursed at me saying that I had tricked him into bringing me to a really, really far place (enough to make him clench in his seat and throw me dirty looks) which didn't look so far on the website's map. My boyfriend, who came to see me there, faithfully followed my directions ("Malapit lang sa church") but ended up walking two kilometers in leather shoes, in the glaring heat. Yan ang pagmamahal.

Anyway, after paying the fare plus extra (kasi lugi siya at mahal ang gas at krisis ngayon), I got down from the cab to be greeted by a bearded man who flashed me a smile and said, "Hi. Kilala mo ako?"

I said, "....BenCab?"

He said, "Hindi, driver ako ni Virgilio Almario! Nandyan siya sa loob! :)"

"Ah ganun po ba? Sige po thank you!"

I entered the light-filled museum, paid the P100 entrance ticket, was pointed to the gift shop, where a girl told me this would be my last stop and that I should go downstairs. It was all so new and nice. There was a huge painting "32 faces of Sabel" at the balcony, which gave a view of BenCab's house and private studio/enclave. I should have arranged for an interview with him, I swear.

Then downstairs, a chipper tour guide said "Hello, Bakit ka mag-isa?" I don't know if this was in reference to the fact that, apart from Almario and his staff who were wandering somewhere, I was virtually the only guest at the museum. (Sheh, tour guide, said this is not the case on peak seasons, but it's generally quiet most days. More so since it was Pacquiao-Hatton's fight.)

She led me to the Indigo Gallery, where a show was ongoing, and I was immediately drawn to the work of Leonard Aguinaldo ("How to Eat A Poisoned Dog") because I had interviewed him for an Art Studies paper in college, and I found his rubber etching technique quite piquing. Based on the red dot on the small card next to the painting, this one was sold.

A few feet away, there were sliding glass doors giving a great view of the hilly, tree-rich property where there would soon be a fully functional garden (inspired by rice terraces) and an eco-tour a la Tam Awan Village.

Then I was treated to the Bulul collection, all 133 artifacts, non-curated as Almario pointed out in our interview. The black or brown figures stood in stark contrast to the plain white walls. It was lovely. BenCab has been collecting this for more than two decades, from native weapons to lunch boxes to containers of lime for the traditional betel-nut chewing ritual, a way to say hello to guests. Sheh told me I could even lie down on the old carving meant for foot massages.

Then the bululs, whose positions varied according to the tribe, and their functions varied from fertility to protection to health. At this point my Sagada-born boyfriend was still walking, and I failed to tell him how far he would have to go.

Then there was the Erotica section, which housed works by Ben Cab and others. There were sculptures of bulus in the act of copulation, something my tour guide said was not traditional. Her exact term was "Ewan ko ba kung bakit naggaganyan ang mga artist." haha.

Then downstairs, there were Contemporary Galleries, one reserved for young artists from the Cordilleras. In one of the shelves, I saw a bust by Anastacio Caedo, the one who posed for the U.P. Oblation. At this point, another tour guide, who seemed to be the more senior of all of them, came and chatted with my new tour guide (there's one on standby on every floor) about Manny Pacquiao and other gossip, and I wandered off into the other Contemporary Gallery and the Maestro Gallery.

I thought it was significant how the museum, like art, has hierarchies and classifications. Famous ones versus not famous ones. But the thing was, the maestro gallery, composed of works handpicked by Ben Cab, was smaller than the Contemporary galleries. I just found that sort of telling.

Downstairs, I peeked in for a bit at their cafe, which led directly to the garden (the website said it housed poultry and other plants, but I didn't see). I just said hi to the staff, who were milling about and waiting for people.

And I left feeling very impressed but I had so many questions still. Jeeps were hard to come by, more so for cabs, so I started trekking up to the villages, seeing a lot of woodcarved handicrafts stores on the way. And I thought, "Hmmm... Are some of these handicrafts showcased in the museum? Why don't they deserve to be housed in a museum? Does this come under the high-art-low-art dichotomy?"

Then a few feet up, I felt the wound on my ankle (damn you Hush Puppies) swell, and I saw blood stain the leather so I stood in a shade and contemplated. Then boyfriend came, his face like one of those fierce-looking paintings of an Igorot man in the museum, and the first thing he said to me was, "My leg muscles are cramping and I am going to die." Then he asked me, more gently, why I didn't inform him earlier that the place was pretty frickin far.

He said he had followed the "This way to Ben Cab Museum" signs but started getting worried when he got to the twelfth sign. Haha. I made it up to him naman.

But was the blood and sweat worth the trek to BenCab's homage to art? Definitely.

See Multiply album for more pictures.

loifstoil

Thu, 30 Apr 2009 18:03:07 GMT

As the new Lifestyle section writer/ sub-editor, I am now accepting (begging for?) any story tips you may have on the following subjects:

Art and Literature (recommend books that we can review, museums we can visit, etc.)
Anything worth a feature (such as if you want to send me into a warzone where there's a nice little swimming pool, or a place where only pink dolphins live)
Movies, Films, Television Shows (mostly reviews, or like new trends happening. Indie films, whatever)
Beauty, Health, and Wellness
Cultures and sub-cultures (like we recently got an email about a biker subculture going on in Manila. Except I don't know how to approach them with my girly pleats)
Science and Technology, which may have value to our predominantly male demographic such as noteworthy websites, new internet/ technology trends
Music (concerts? free ones? ones with a cause?)
Economy (something less technical and more "human interest." Like, recession tips for the day-to-day person.)
Politics (art and makeup are political, yeah! women's issues, gay/lesbian/transsexual issues, interesting people I can do a profile on, etc.)

email me
PM me
picture message me

Thaaaaanks!

curses

Wed, 29 Apr 2009 16:12:08 GMT

U.P.'s urban legend goes: if you take a picture with the Oblation, you'll never graduate.

TOO LATE!!!!!

(CLICK ON PIC TO VIEW ALBUM)

babyboom

Sun, 05 Apr 2009 16:23:48 GMT

Turns out, 11 days after they're born, hamster babies actually become cute. Adorable when they jump into the food dish or run on the wheel and fall off.

Oh, and Good news, babe, none of them were eaten.

(From L-R, counterclockwise, Maximillian, Tatiana, Nimbus, Fall, Gray One, Miggy Jr., Maya, Molotov, Cumulus, and Bob.)*

*names yet to be approved by Miggy.

newcycle

Thu, 02 Apr 2009 16:06:24 GMT

It's true what they say about news cycles. You really have to cycle on that Tour-de-France bike of information. We all turn into that jackrabbit from 'Alice in Wonderland' who keeps on running around saying "I'm late I'm late I'm late!!!"

So I was screaming "Type, KD, TYPE!!!" (In a tone much like "Run, Forrest, Run") and transcribed like I have never transcribed before, on a keyboard that had missing letters.

And I thought I was going to be all dignified when something big comes up like MryJeanLcaba.

*

I have to hole up somewhere this Saturday, to finish my Muslim discrimination story, because I want the issue to get picked up, because one of my interviewees said today, "We hope you will be one of the ways to tell more people about the plight of the Muslim people, and we hope we can work together to bring peace in Mindanao," or something like that. I haven't transcribed it yet, because I want the keyboards at home with complete letters.

And I am psyched about this, I want to DO IT GOOD, so damn good like Persian wholewheat vegetarian Good Burger. I have to clinch that lead and it has to be solid all around because I don't want to be the girl who f*cked up the plight of the Muslim people.

*

On a more cheerful note, here are the Grammors (like Grammy's, only it stands for 'grammatical errors + grand stressors') for two weeks.

One man passable bridge	narrow bridge
wife stub husband to death	stab
primodial concern	primordial
drum and buggle	bugle
one million seven hundred million pesos	I frickin don't know
cries fowl over power hike	foul
Four hundred and Eighty Eight Ago, Magellan landed in the Philippines	years
scavergers	this cannot be a typo. because r and n are pretty far apart on the keyboard.
Surnames I like: Tumamao Opinion

Notice it's less because, THANK YOU SWEET JESUS, the regional writers have improved. Yeay! Maybe they've gotten bored with my long-distance calls. Beginning with, "Um, I'd just like to ask a whole lotta questions about your story."

lonelyplanet

Sun, 29 Mar 2009 15:35:32 GMT

I had coffee with my friend yesterday, which was refreshing because it was the first time I think I actually talked to someone who's going through a little of the same sh*t I've been going through lately.

Although she's going through a lot, and I'm going through relatively more trivial issues, we were both entitled to feel bad because, in our little coffee shop sofa circle of advanced words, no one gets moral ascendancy to act more hurt just because some issues are weightier than the other.

So the important bit is never to let go of our outlets, that place or means by which we can vent, when we're feeling taken for granted, or we're feeling stupid or retarded, or overworked, or under-loved.

I'm glad she is one of mine.

And running across a national highway and dodging speeding cars with her sort of reminded me not die, essentially meaning, there's some things that are worth not getting run over for.

beanstalker

Wed, 18 Mar 2009 15:46:50 GMT

I've recently wondered whether the people I write about (or re-write about) on the news every day, have Friendster accounts. A vast majority would not be on Facebook or would not have the inclination to be on a social networking site, but then again you always wonder.

If the girl who pretended to be a nurse to steal a baby because she had a miscarriage has a face.
Or if that son of a major drug dealer injured in a raid has a face.
Or if that young girl who died in a jeepney crash a few days short of graduation has a face.
Or a short profile.

I mean, everyone has a face, of course. You just don't see them when you write their names. So from now on, I'll start looking.

Possibly, leave a short note saying, I'm sorry you died, I'm sorry you were hurt, or I'm sorry for your alleged crime.

Except, they don't allow Friendster access at work.

errors

Fri, 13 Mar 2009 14:59:06 GMT

One of our hamsters (all four are as yet unnamed because my little brother has gone through 200 names for each of them so far and hasn't decided on any) gave birth to seven blind red jellybeans today.

I kid you not, they are disgusting to look at and squeal when they get dragged by one of the hamsters en route to the food dish. And when they do squeal they sound like rusty swings, only smaller.

Here's a blurry picture of them in a bed of sawdust. Photo by Nico.

Jason said they might eat their young, like his cats do, and he hits them because they're bad. But I can't hit hamsters because they bite back, the little balls of fur.

And he's right, they eat their young if there's not enough protein in the mother hamster's diet, or if you touch the baby jellybeans and transfer your scent onto them and the confused mother eats them.

Animal pet care sites said they'll open their eyes in 11 to 12 days, and when they do, we should put the water bottle down or feed them pieces of cucumber to hydrate. Then after two weeks we can touch them and clean the cage (eew that'll be so smelly by then). Till then they'll have to drink like, milk molecules from the hamster's tiny teat.

All I want to know is if they're having sex in the cage or if they were pregnant when we bought them. The former is alarming because if they're a horny bunch, we'll have a jar of jellybeans by Christmas.

It's very fascinating and disgusting in a way. I mean, I will never eat red or pink jellybeans again.

Enough of that, here are my favorite phrases from editing this week's worth of regional stories:

political indefferences

six dies in car crash

suspect was also included in the charged sheet...

...gathering more evidence to pin down the brain. (mastermind)

..application for licensed jives with actual operations...

personnels

new-looking suspicious people

...here we are stucked with an incompetent leader.

...rebels returned to the folds of the law...

...the search would be piloted in the first district of Leyte.

A throng of angry militant woman... (my favorite!)

Words this week that could be replaced with something else:

waylay- ambush
purseiner- fishing vessel
adjudged- judged

Last names I like:

Santotome- police story
Archival- lawyer

New things I learned this week:

A worker who is terminated is required to be told about it a month prior and is supposed to be given separation pay. Under the Labor Code, separation pay should be equivalent to at least one month's pay or successive years' pay, whichever is higher.
There is a place in the Philippines called Camotes Island. In Cebu.

Yeah, dudes, let's pin down the brain!!

grammy

Fri, 06 Mar 2009 15:00:28 GMT

Consider this a public service, three weeks into the job.

Ms. Marites said I should compile this, lest I teach someday. So, future, students, here are some words to live by.

Words That May Exist, But Only In Your Own Personal Grammar School

These words...

are actually...

as in the sentence...

Consider revising...

full-pledged

full-fledged

"New recruits are supposed to go training before they become full pledged police.

"go training" to just "train"

priced collection

prized collection

"The dolls are part of ...'s priced collection."

unless of course the dolls were for sale. In any case, it sounds awkward.

to cease the fire

to stop the fire

"...firefighters had to break down windows to cease the fire."

The term "ceasing fires" (ceasefires) are usually used in war, shootouts, armed battles, but technically not when a Korean school burned down.

three termer legislator

'legislator for three terms' or 'legislator, elected for three terms'

"The three termer legislator said..."

termer is not even a word.

bases

basis

"The experience would not be the bases..."

Bases IS a word. Just not this time.

House of Congress

Congress or House of Representatives

"...was passed in the House of Congress."

Do not make it sound like the House of Waffles, nor make it sound like it is an actual house. Unless you want to be specific, since it is composed of two houses, the Lower House and Upper House. Note, however, that the Lower House does not like being called "lower."

cancer, only hers is breast

breast cancer

"Like Francis M., Bibeth, too, is suffering from cancer only hers is breast."

"Like Francis M, Bibeth is also suffering from cancer, although hers is breast cancer" or any concise sentence. Consider using less commas and use them in appropriate places. Man, that breast bit is just awkward.

Further, here are a list of words that DO exist, but are awkward, archaic, or informal (and are hence not understood by the majority of readers).

word	meaning	use instead
malversation	to steal	corruption, graft
localites	residents of a particular locality	residents, locals, people
solon	member of an organized body organized to make laws	lawmaker, legislator
disfavor	strong feeling of not liking or approval	dislike, disapprove
backjob	official meaning. to masturbate on a person's back while he or she is sleeping informal meaning. a job that had to be repeated because it was shoddy or incorrect	shoddy job, etc.

Just some of my favorite surnames that I've encountered in various reports.

Cabigas	story on organic rice
Superficial	police story
Ehemplo	shootout story
Rebelyn (name)	story on NPA rebels
Paglumotan	story on right of reply bill
Bolabola	sex den story

That's all, folks.

staaarrryyyy

Thu, 26 Feb 2009 14:21:40 GMT

Congratulations, I think I am now the official grammatical goddess (trainee editor) for provincial and metro news reports.

Because my editor thanked me yesterday at the story conference. Because he said he's stopped getting emails that go like, "Ano ba yang storya niyo hindi ba inedit, nagbabasa ba kayo? Umayos kayo! Loyal reader ako nakakadismaya... etc. etc."

My steady diet is shit-ass writing, fantabulous new words that don't exist, and crime reportage. I fear that I am slowly being desensitized to violence.

I think that someday, if indeed I get shot by two men riding on a motorcycle, my last thoughts would be, "How would I write this? Okay...
(dream bubble sequence)

A journalist from an online news organization was gunned down by two masked burly men riding a motorcycle Thursday.
The victim, identified as myself, was on a relaxing sojourn into the wild woods of Kamuning when she was reportedly shot dead by two unidentified suspects.
Meanwhile, the motorcycle was reportedly injured from repeated abuse by the same burly masked men simultaneously riding on it and putting unnecessary pressure on its tires.
The victim, who was rushed to a nearby clinic, was pronounced dead. She was unassuming, not very hard-hitting as her fellow slain journalists, and was prone to hiding behind the words "allegedly", "reportedly", "purportedly", and "believed to be." Which are all very hard-sounding words if you think about it.
Police are still investigating possible motives to the shooting. She is one of 60 or more journalists who were slain since 2001, according to a journalism guild's statistics. Allegedly.

(end dream bubble sequence)"

In other news, I'll be on the night shift starting next week.

In other other news, I love the Philippine Star's front page photo today.

Why? Because former president Fidel V. Ramos appears to be flying. Because the two men behind him seem to be lifting him up into the air by his pants.

Someone lift me up by the pants, it looks like fun.

lovely

Sat, 21 Feb 2009 05:44:40 GMT

My boyfriend says he's noticed that work (nursing duty) has changed him in terms of sharpened leadership skills and a better threshold for sleep deprivation.

I, on the other hand, have only increased my appetite for reading and hotdog sandwiches (which I can't have). My nose, I suppose, is very slowly but surely developing a sense for the news. (ha!)

*

In today's major web browser news, it was announced that the Diagram Prize is giving out awards to books with odd titles.
And you know what slipped into my mind? "Pumasok Tayo sa Imburnal." I reserve the right to write a book with this title. Thank you.

In other news, my Mom sent me an email the other day which I am pondering deeply.

Whoever started this email is asking which hurts more.

This...

Or this...

Cheers!

firsdayfunk

Mon, 16 Feb 2009 13:02:10 GMT

On my first day at work today, I decided to keep a list of relevant work-related statistics in my head, such as occupational hazards and the like.

For the record, I am enthused about my new job, and although I still have to thaw some lukewarm people, I look forward to the next 364 days.

Work-related Whatever	Number
Times I had to line up for a visitor's pass because I still haven't gotten my work badge yet	4
Stories edited for factual or grammatical errors (e.g. "shot his soon-to-be-born baby." It's unborn child, idiot.)	3
Stories that I worked on and got published	6
Written works that got murdered or altered slightly in some way	6
New people I met	12
New people I met whose names I can remember	3
People I interviewed today	1
Celebrities I rode with on the elevator	2
Media personalities I stood three feet away from	3
Embarrassments (flying shoes, tripping, having to borrow tape recorder batteries from editor, awkward conversation, etcetera)	4
Times my dad said, "Develop a positive perspective because you will be doing this forever."	1
Times I said, "Dad, I won't do this forever, I have other plans, and one of them is dying someday."	2
Times my dad said, "Well, this is a privilege, this is what you studied for, this is your dream."	1
Times I tried to recall what my lifelong dreams were.	20

All in all, not a bad day, considering my skill set. Hallelujah!

druggedland

Sat, 07 Feb 2009 13:38:33 GMT

Holy Maynard James Keenan, I did not know this had a video.

Little angel go away
Come again some other day
The devil has my ear today
I'll never hear a word you say
Promised I would find a little solace
And some peace of mind
Whatever just as long as I don't feel so
Desperate and ravenous,
So weak and powerless
Over you

domain

Tue, 03 Feb 2009 15:41:27 GMT

I am happy to announce that as of 11:39 PM, +8 GMT, and sort of on Japan time,

the blog name "http://sexyfenneljuice.livejournal.com" has not yet been taken.

Why didn't I think of this earlier? It has so much more zing.

vuuuurk

Tue, 03 Feb 2009 14:39:11 GMT

This is work prep.

As of yesterday's little contract-signing, I am now officially employed. Well, I won't start at the office yet but I've essentially been hired.

So, in acquainting myself with [or sort of forcing myself upon] my new editor, I updated my three-year old resume which I found buried deep in the Sent Messages folder of my Gmail account.

The task freaked me out and I tried to remember what a proper resume looked like, (did they teach us this in school? Yeeeeaaahhh, I thiiiink so, maybe I was sleeping on my desk that day? Hmmm...). But I think it's pretty clear what it shouldn't look like.

I was initially worried about what I'd put in, and was trying to visualize what he'd like to see if he were just skimming over it during, like, a coffee break or something. Or if he were perusing through it in a frantic rush, so I thoughtfully highlighted the important bits in bold letters so he'd get the gist in one go.

I also sent him some writing samples because he asked me if I had "good copy." So I also, thoughtfully, assembled an online portfolio (Jesus Christ) of my published ones, assuming that, since he works for online news, he'd prefer the online version of everything.

I was typing up the ones I couldn't find online (by typing in my name in quotes on all the major search engines. As if I have a lot of articles, when I only have four. HUH-HA!!), and I sort of miss it. I mean, writing news. And doing all the writer stuff like going out to interview people, doing archive work, worrying if I'll meet the deadline, or possibly if I'll get shot by two masked men on a motorcycle as is the trend of extrajudicial killings in the Philippines.

So I'm glad I'm working. In the second most dangerous country to practice journalism. What with the global unemployment crisis and all, what was that in the Inquirer today? Oh yes, like a 100,000 or so shortage of jobs for new graduates, and more threats of unemployment in major business sectors.

So yeah, I'm glad I'm working.

piehool

Thu, 29 Jan 2009 14:15:09 GMT

Now that's a public service announcement.

Simple as pie.

Source: unknown. My mom, who is a devout spammer, forwarded this to me by email.

kidsthesedays

Mon, 26 Jan 2009 12:55:27 GMT

Never too early to express political sentiments.

Starring my brother Miggy, my nephew Toby-I'll-kick-her-ath-Leung, and Gabbie, who, at eleven, is right of center and does not appreciate the comments made in this video.

jazzercise

Sun, 25 Jan 2009 15:02:57 GMT

justin timberlake snl beyonce single ladies video

Sun, 25 Jan 2009 14:57:46 GMT

I want to write a few notes about the book whose name is found at the lower right corner of this picture. Because I want to figure out why it's so damn popular, blockbuster movie notwithstanding.

Although I am reviewing it, I refuse to name IT because I don't want to add to the hype, specifically via Google references. Because I don't think, writing and concept-wise, that it deserves as much praise as it does.

So if and when I mention the said book, I will call it MANGO.

By the way, I ate this mango. Just saying.

Okay. MANGO. My brother gave me the first MANGO book of the MANGO series for Christmas.

Since then I've read the entire MANGO series, on PDF. (Are you interested in NOT wasting your money on the hardbound series but rather, waste the same amount of time reading the same amount of fodder for ABSOLUTELY FREE? Email me, I'll be glad to send you the copies.)

If all books have a theme, then MANGO's themes would be sex and cheese. Coincidentally, both sex AND cheese, sell. That's one point.

Mostly, I think, it is the AFFECT, in the pop culture sense. Sure, the way it's written is sappy, swoony, and it makes you say, "GOOD GOD, I HAVEN'T SEEN DIALOGUE THIS BAD SINCE THAT ROMANTIC NOVEL WITH A BARE-CHESTED NEANDERTHAL IN FRONT AND A BUXOM RAVEN-HAIRED 'HEROINE' WHOSE TITLE I FORGET BECAUSE THEY ALL LOOK AND SOUND THE SAME!"

So why did I read the entire MANGO series in four days? Surely there must be a hook, despite the abysmal writing?

Well, analyze the core devices and you get the formulaic love ideal guaranteed to snatch every female fantasy and capture the pre-pubescent-to-post-menopausal market.

Simply, who doesn't want a rich, inherently good, young looking, beautiful, dazzling, animal blood sucking boyfriend whose only preoccupation seems to be saving your life, making you happy, spending every moment devoting his life and money and cars and powers to you, listening to you, and making declarations of love at least once every three days?

For a girl, it's like being in love with a boy version of yourself, only with the added bonus of "boy things" like danger, abs that glitter in the sunlight, a penis, a possessive tendency, and a passion for sports cars.

And get this, even if you're a klutzy, slightly mousy, plain, poor, stubborn, terrifically flawed girl as exemplified by the MANGO heroine, the MANGO hero STILL falls in love with you, physically perfect as he is. Wonderful, yes?

Yes.

As far as gender issues go, MANGO girl conforms to female stereotypes of being relatively weak, dependent, always in distress and hence has to be protected by male, whereas MANGO boy is strong, independent, and treats the woman like his possession, his objectified female. And even if you may argue that, say, the possibility of MANGO girl turning into a vampire constitutes her empowerment, think again because she only does this for the male, and out of a domestic sense of duty as wife and mother (read ahead in the series).

Add to that, it reinforces ideals of first and only love, concepts of destiny (such as, in both the vampiric and wolf sense, every supernatural being in the book will find their "mate", as if each were made for the other), sex must only happen after marriage (if you can stand the books enough to read up to the fourth MANGO book), lust at first sight (blood lust, is essentially, lust, and the entire horror genre will attest to the intertwining concepts of fear and sex, woman as powerless object of sex, etcetera).

Simply, it leads you to believe in a kind of love that is ideal and idealistic, that there is that kind of love and it is POSSIBLE, because no matter where you are (such as a dismal small town with an exceedingly low population and dreary weather conditions) or what you are (refer to heroine description above), the perfect mate may POSSIBLY find you.

You are hence reduced into a girl who waits for a typical prince charming in a Volvo and a designer hoodie, in the belief that it completes and validates you, much like you waited for a letter from Hogwarts back in your Harry Potter phase.

And for me, that's all there is to MANGO.

bamamarama

Thu, 22 Jan 2009 12:46:59 GMT

At about 11 p.m., my parents interrupted my Zen-like friendship bracelet weaving to tell me that I HAVE to watch the Obama Inauguration on CNN.

Guilty that I haven't been watching the news of late, so un-journalist of me, I complied.

Once they'd made sure I was on the said channel, they said, "OK, ikwento mo nalang sa amin ha kasi matutulog na kami."

Honestly.

So I waited for three hours until Obama finally fumbled on his oath and gave an impassioned, slightly disappointing, may-not-be-ranked-as-one-of-the-greatest-speeches-in-time inaugural address at 2 a.m.

I felt sorry for the 2 million or so people who crowded around the National Mall and waited in the freezing cold to hear something that's sort of been said before, especially on the terrorism issue (and the way Obama said it reinforced the stereotype that all Muslims are terrorists, SIGH!!!) and that oft-repeated promise to help poor countries, but, let's face it, as imperialists/ capitalists, they never really do.

And do you ever feel like, when listening to live coverage of momentous, historic, much-hyped media moments like the Obama Inaugural, that the hordes of news anchors, reporters, and expert panelists (friends of friends of lawyers of friends of Obama, for example) are just forced to give these repetitive, superlative, mind-numbing, OBVIOUS commentary just to fill in the blank spaces?

CNN, particularly, focused on inane things like American traditions, presidential factoids, how exciting this all was (duh), or Michelle Obama's dress-of-choice which, personally, I thought made her look like a party favor.

At least BBC had the good grace to cover alternative viewpoints, such as, how other people in the world besides Americans felt about the significance of swearing in the first black U.S. president.

I would've liked to hear from the Iraqis, seeing how George Bush was unjustifiably given such a graceful exit from office. Except BBC's audio sounded like it was being broadcast from inside a sardine can, and the video was a bit shoddy.

And so, once I'd annoyed myself with all these thoughts and given myself Carpal Tunnel from all the bracelet weaving, I was left with a thought. I sure as hell hope President Barack Obama doesn't disappoint us all, since we seem to be investing a whole lot of emotions, hopes, and ideals in him, much as we would a celebrity or a rock star.

livercandy

Fri, 09 Jan 2009 17:35:26 GMT

(Click picture to view album)

An educational epicurean evening.

Foremost, there is muck to be found under your soup at the mini shabu shabu restaurant (those places where you boil everything-- raw vegetables, seafood, seafood rolls and balls, meat-- in chicken broth and spoon it out yourself). Boil it long enough, and the liquid congeals into something that tastes like gravy and teriyaki sauce.

On the other hand, the vapor from the boiling chicken broth will surely open your pores, should you be lucky enough, as I was, to be in the line of wafting air.

Miss Desserts at Serendra serves expensive pastries that do not necessarily cause mindgasms. Such as the sugar-free almond mini cheesecake I got and the Earl Grey tea that they never delivered. The cupcake store next door, however, although equally high-priced is a much more mindgasmic experience.

Since Krispy Kreme has to serve their donuts fresh and new every day, wonder what they do with the surplus donuts that don't get sold or are past their selling date? Answer: they send them to a convent. Without necessarily assuming that this is why nuns tend to be roly poly, a Krispy Kreme dude said the nuns, in turn, dispatch the donuts to charities, spreading diabetes to the less fortunate.

And lastly, The Distillery at Fort Bonifacio has no signage advertising what it is, but is cramped with hot chicks, foreigners, and their respective boyfriends/girlfriends. Aside from the music conducive to drunkards, they have a wide selection of beers, wines, and aromatic sprays. Except Endinger, allegedly one of the best German beers in the universe. Soon to come. The place is cozy, smells of tobacco smoke, and is obscenely expensive.

My drink for the evening, Chimay, is, HOLY COW!, brewed by trappist monks. The label says it is a trappist beer. It is made from a special kind of trappist monk grain, with secret deep-well trappist monk water. I read the tiny label. Seven Trappist monasteries in the world produce beer. What are Trappists anyway? They're a Roman Catholic sect who like contemplation.

I specifically requested the bartender for a syrupy, sweet beer (like Harry Potter's Butterbeer which I imagine tastes like liquid caramel candy), but Chimay is bitter. Nico and Mikey insisted there's a split-second sweetness when it hits your tongue, and a caramel aftertaste, but I only found that at the latter one-sixteenth of the bottle. And I could have imagined it.

In conclusion, my diet is friggin ruined and I have hiccups.

tralalala

Fri, 09 Jan 2009 04:03:01 GMT

THE HOLIDAY IN PICTURES
(not necessarily in order. Click the pictures to view the albums.)

1. Miggy's 10th Birthday

We gorge like locusts at Pizza Volante in SM, Basti and Nikki the renegade newlyweds arrive, papparazi-slash-fan-esque pictures taken with Ate K, a reunion with my best friend, and a shot at "possibly the best fries in the Universe." (it's so not.)

2. Turning Double Digitz

My traumatic, awkward, slightly irritating birthday celebration featuring: Pizza Hut lunch date, distributing bags of food to beggars along Session Road, a jello shot party, and the smoked salmon sandwich dream. Not featuring: a hormonal argument, getting offered a lewd part time job by stranger dude while distributing said bags of food at Session Road, and a date with Jose Cuervo.

Note: Jello Shots at this party were provided by Nico and Berto's Jello Shots! Order your set today for only P150 for 15 shots! Available in flavors: Coffee Brandy, Cherry Amaretto, Lemon Vodka, and more!

3. New Year's Eve

Reliving the padusdos days at Camp John Hay, James the Korean, no last names because we're in the forest, sleeping on pine needles, and a celebrity appearance by the dog from Men In Black.

4. New Year Fantasmic

A convicted ex-drug pusher (but fantastic performer) playing the piano for us, dancing for charity inspired by Japanese silly dancing, drowning in a flood of starch and alcohol, Ate K intrudes on pictures, the curly wig photo shoot challenge, launching a pseudo-Cañao semi-Copacabana lingo line in honor of Clifford, and a Mojitos party on crack.

HAPPY NEW YEAR ALL!

xmasness

Wed, 24 Dec 2008 03:49:35 GMT

Thought for the Day:

Buti pa si Jesus,
kahit ang tagal na niyang patay (slash resurrected),
ang dami parin nagseselebrate ng birthday niya.
Halos buong mundo pa ang kanyang guest list.
On the other hand,
lahat ng gifts naman hindi sa kanya napupunta.
So siguro ok lang.

Merry Christmas all happy berday to me.

xmas

Tue, 09 Dec 2008 05:15:08 GMT

This is my littlest brother Miggy's ambitious Christmas wish list. Notice how Number 6 is a plasma screen TV.

My favorite part is when he justifies why these are on his list.

"Because they are awesome exept (except) for the slippers."