June 29, 2003

LAST night's plans seemed seamless.

Was going to attend the staff meeting in the office at six, be back home before eight, zip over to Chrissie's party for dinner and maybe a few drinks and then head off to Malate and meet up with my friends at the Gay Pride celebration.

But most days never turn out the way you planned and yesterday was no different. The staff meeting lasted 'til nine, my friends flaked out, I was the last to arrive at Chri's party and I ended up spending half the night at her house.

Most of her guests had left by the time I got there and there was a huge table of food waiting just for me. When I was done stuffing myself with the excellent food [caesar salad, russian salad, killer lechon, pancit, lumpia, fried chicken, ube cake], we just hung around, drank a little and talked a lot.

We talked about a lot of things.

Happy Feet Sandals [Amazing how all my aunts - and even my mom - had their own pairs when they were young. And they all remember the sandals fondly.], dentistry [Of course! Congratulations, Chri!], celebrity gossip, the quirkiness of our family, school rules, high school literature, monks, priests, convents, sex change operations, India, the caste system, fixed marriages, female genital mutilation, the plight of women in Afghanistan [Yes, really.].

And that's just scratching the proverbial surface.

It was a good day for talking.

Maybe today would be a good day for action.


***

PREPAID card ran out at the worst possible time.

At three a.m. when I couldn't ask Supernanny to go out and buy a new one.

Had to resort to digging through my stack of old used internet cards to salvage the few minutes some of them might have left.

And yeah, the lucky bitch that I am, some of them still work.

Used what was left of one to update an old blog post.

Used another to e-mail Dragondude.

I'm using a third one to post this entry.

I still have eleven left.

Yeah, I think they'd last me 'til the morning. Or at least 'til I doze off.


***

The two three stooges

June 28, 2003

FIRST photo I submitted to The Mirror Project.

Still waiting for approval. They're up.


***

I was a teenage doormat

Not too many people know but I used to be a doormat.

And today I had to recount the tale of my idiocy to a group of eight or ten people, I didn’t really count. How I was almost duped into purchasing designer drugs in Hong Kong and then sneaking them back into Manila (it’s not as dramatic as it sounds, really). How I transcribed hours and hours of interviews that weren't even mine. How this bitch used to steal my articles and printed them as her own with her own fucking byline. How I endured shit for a year. (But hey, a year is just 365 days. Some women let their husbands beat them up for decades. I will not be one of them.) How nice I used to be.

But I ended my sad pathetic story with delicious words, delicious words I’d chew and gnat on for all their worth – “that was before.” Yeah, that was before, that was in the past, is not happening now, will never happen again.

And just today, I had several chances to prove to myself that I’m no longer that girl.

Because Shakey’s delivered the wrong pizza to my door. There was a time when I would have said, “oh well, they would get it right next time” and I would have reached for the first slice of the wrong pizza, disappointed but not really willing to do anything about it. But today I didn’t. Today I called them and told them about their mistake. I was polite but I demanded that they deliver the right pizza to my house, that I ordered pepperoni crunch and I don’t even like pepperoni that much so damnit, I wanted needed the crunch. Less than an hour later, they delivered the right pizza, sprinkled with loads of apologies.

Then, at the first staff meeting I attended as a real employee of the company I’ve been working for for almost half a decade now, I spoke up. I shared ideas and anecdotes and bagged some very interesting assignments. And after the meeting, I pitched ten story ideas to my boss – ideas I would really really love to work on - two of which I'd be working on this coming week. Some were a bit crazy but I didn’t shy away from voicing them out. Better try and be rejected than be the idiot who does nothing but think about the could-have-beens. No sign of being a doormat there.

And the best thing about these things is they come naturally now. There isn’t any real effort to conquer the old me because she’s really just not there - she's gone. Maybe she left, maybe she died, maybe she killed herself. I don't know.

I used to be nice. The girl who’s too polite for her own good. The girl you could abuse. Not anymore.

So don’t mess with me. I’m no doormat.

Or, as Astroboy would say, I’m no carpet.




 
YOU know you don't have even an ounce of self-restraint in your body when you cannot just walk into a nail spa, buy something and leave without getting your nails done.

I'm terrible, I know.

***

Girls' Night Out

After salivating over Demi Moore...

***

Two of the too many sides of Pammy [also known as The Footwear Says It All]

The strong-snarling-step-out-of-my-way-if-you-don't-like-pain-I-mean-business office Pammy

The softie-nice-tired-sleepy-fidgety-marshmallowy-I-like-to-be-cuddled home Pammy




June 26, 2003

Black Jeans and Donuts [also known as My First Attempt at Patois]

No one cyaan test mi Dragondude. Gorgonbwoy is mi fambly. He is rhygin, tallowah and upful. Wat ah irie bway fayva patoo. He seh mi baxide and mi aire a irie. He no axe me de question "how yuh nyam so much". I too hard aise but he no call me "yu dam Lagga head bud." I-man chaka-chaka but he no lef. He no seh "no badda mi." He nah do dat.

A so im tan.

Mi a lucky, nuh true?

If smaddy seh somting bad bout Dragondude, I feel cut up bout di ole ting. Ef yuh choble him yuh ina big choble, 'im me a-go hit yuh. Lawd have mercy pon yuh.


***

I AM so seriously going to study Patois.

I love it.


***


Blame Yahoo! not me

SINCE I log into Yahoo! Messenger using my laptop, my office computer, this other laptop I'm reviewing and my mobile phone, my offline messages always get lost in the process.

Just this morning, when I checked Yahoo! on my mobile phone, I saw that I had seven messages. But since Globe's GPRS connection is sucky, I wasn't able to read them. I checked my messenger again using my office computer - the seven messages had disappeared.

And that has happened a lot.

If you have been leaving messages and I haven't been replying, don't blame me.

It's Yahoo!'s fault.


***


Oh my

Me: [while on the phone with some girl from Shakey's]: "Should I get the party pizza or large lang?"
Tim: "Party!"
Me: "Are you sure? That's twelve slices."
Tim: "Hmm. Can we finish that? How big is the large pizza?"
Me: "Eight slices."
Tim: "Hmm. I dunno, what do you think?"
Me: "Party?"
Tim: "Yeah, so we'd have enough to last the whole night."

Fast forward to about two hours after the phone call.

Pizza box is empty. Not a single slice of Pepperoni Crunch is left. There are two empty cans of soda on the table. Tim looks a little dazed, traces of oil still on his fingers. The first two buttons on my jeans are unbuttoned.

Me: "Whoa, we ate the whole pizza."
Tim: "Oh my..."

***


SHAKEY'S Pepperoni Crunch is so good that I've been ordering it every day for three days straight.


***


SOMETIMES I get so involved in whining about this unfair world that I lose my grasp on my goals and my focus and my reasons and the things that make me who I am until I have this moment, this tiny moment that would be insignificant for everyone else but me, a moment that puts me back where I was, a moment that sets things in place, a moment that reminds me why I'm here, why I'm doing what I'm doing and why I am who I am.

And everything is good again.


***

MY Patois just got enthusiastic approval from two Jamaican dudes. One's opinion matters more but hey, I need all the approval I can get.

Now if only I can find someone to talk with.

Me ah look fi yahd people in ah Manila.







 
June 27, 2003

Postcards from the past few days

Dear Mr. Cab Driver,

I'm sorry that I denied you the joy of having me agree that you look like Aga Muhlach. I'm sorry that when you pointed to his Jollibee billboard and said that was you, I said, "Oh, I didn't know you used to be a bee." I'm sorry I asked you how you got rid of your wings. I try to be nice sometimes but it's not easy.

Thank you for locking all the doors when I got in, for learning your lesson after the passenger before me lost her mobile phone to a snatcher who stuck his hand into your cab and left her crying. Thank you for offering me candy, even though I didn't take it, I appreciated the gesture. Thank you for making me laugh, you were very funny in a weird way. Thank you for not getting riled up even when surrounded by idiots driving, thank you for just laughing their stupidity off because heated drivers make me nervous. Thank you too for driving like you wanted to be Schumacher despite the traffic, for getting me to my destination on time.

You used words like exaggerate and reminisce and journalism and it made me wonder what you were doing driving a cab when you could be out teaching the world things.

But I didn't have to wonder for long because without me having to ask, you started talking about how you wished you had a better job, how you went to college but decided to stop when an oil company offered you a good job, how you took the job and blew your money on your friends, how you lost the job because you were booted out with many others, how you regret leaving school, how much you wanted a better life for you and your wife.

In the stretch of time between my house and my destination, you made me look at myself, at my own life, at my own mistakes.

And I kicked myself for wondering, because from behind the wheel, you are teaching the world things, one passenger at a time.


Dear Annoying Prick,

Didn't your mother teach you anything? Didn't she say that when you see a person fussing over her arm because an unidentified insect just bit her and left it all swollen and it hurts like hell and she fears that it's spreading all the way down to her hand and that it could be poisonous and she could be on the verge of death any second and some other people have been saying it probably wasn't an insect and that it might be voodoo, that is not the time to try to be cute and bug her? Didn't your mom tell you that? Guess not. Or maybe she did and you did not listen, because I would totally expect that from you. You're lucky you just got a sneer and an angry retort. Because the next time you start on me, I am going to make sure I am not being threatened by witchcraft and scared and weakened by the possibility of death. The next time, I promise you, I am going to plant a solid kick between your legs.


Dear Genius Aunt,

You're probably still flying over our heads now, on your way back home. And now we're still arguing about who you look like. Fifi says it's Joni Mitchell, that you even sing like her. But I think you're a cross between Alanis Morissette and Demi Moore.

I'm so glad the Happy Feet sandals I surprised you with fit perfectly. That and hearing you say, "Oh, how pretty!" made my day. I hope you weren't weirded out when I said I checked your rubber shoes and the high-heeled pumps you passed on to the maids so I could estimate the size you needed. I'm glad too that you like the fact that you can change the straps to match your clothes.

I haven't started reading the books yet although I keep them on my sidetable. I think I've been more stable these past days and it's good. Anxiety and panic levels seem to be very very low. And I have you to thank for that.

I love how you talk to me and Chri and Fi and Kat about our lives and our plans and how proud you are of us.

We don't know if you know, but we're very very proud of you too.

You're our genius aunt - that's pretty damn amazing.


***

TWO days before Genius Aunt left, we were all sitting around the dining table, talking about our lives. Chri said something about me writing a book and I talked about how I gave myself a deadline, that I wanted my first book to be out by the time I'm 22 but it looks like it won't happen because I would only be 22 for four more months. Ended my speech with, "Yeah, I'm a little hard on myself sometimes."

Genius Aunt said something about giving herself a deadline too but she gave herself until 25. And I said, "Okay, that gives me three years."

I know Genius Aunt more than beat her deadline - she whipped it. She has her own page on Amazon, for crying out loud.

The next day, she gave me a little gift along with this note: "Looking forward to your first book. Any age before 30 is remarkable."

The note was a bigger gift.


***


Catching up

jules: are you still a vegetarian?
cookiedoughjunkie: no
jules: pls say no
cookiedoughjunkie: hahaha
jules: thank God
cookiedoughjunkie: :)
jules: di kaya ng powers ko yun if ever
cookiedoughjunkie: im eating pepperoni pizza now



 
June 25, 2003

ONE of my greatest joys in life is bugging Astroboy.

But I tried not to bug him last night. I had to be nice to him because he accidentally left his wallet in a cab and lost five thousand pesos, credit cards, his driver's license and other IDs in the process.

We SMSd about it.

Astroboy: "Say somthng smart to help keep me frm thnkng about it dude."
Me: "i just watched charlie's angels! it was so much fun!"
Astroboy: "that helpd i ges :) altho u own an overpriced laptop i cant afford & that pisses me off a little"

Not bugging Astroboy is a challenge I couldn't hurdle. So when J and I finally got back to the office from the premiere night, I called his mobile phone to annoy him.

Me: "Dude, are you asleep?"
Astroboy: "No, staring at the ceiling."
Me: "What are you thinking about?"
Astroboy: "Dude, I'm not gonna go down to call you. Let's just text. At least I don't have to listen to you."
Me: "You're gonna call me, man, coz you miss me."
Astroboy: "No, man, there are mosquitos downstairs."
Me: "Sacrifice a little."
Astroboy: "Fine."
Me: "Wait, call me in the office."
Astroboy: "No, I'll call you tomorrow when you're at home."
Me: "No, call me now. Just call the trunkline and say lifestyle."

After a few minutes, our office phone was still silent. I called him again.

Me: "Dude, are you crawling down?"
Astroboy: "I'm. Calling. You. Now."

The office phone rang.

Me: "Hello?"
Astroboy" "May I speak to the resident asshole please?"
Me: "She went home already."
Astroboy: "Hey, why did you ask me to look for nice girl?"
Me: "Huh?"
Astroboy: "You said to look for nice girl when I called."
Me: "Duh! Lifestyle! You're not only old, you're deaf."

More excerpts.

Astroboy: "Are you still embarrassing yourself by having a nanny?"
Me: "I'm having problems with her, the other maids are complaining...I might have to let her go."
Astroboy: "You know what? You shouldn't have had her in the first place. You know what? You're old."

Astroboy: "Can I send you MMS?"
Me: "Yeah. Do you want me to send you my picture?"
Astroboy: "No. Tangina. I read your blog, I listen to you now and you send me your picture? What's that?"

Me: "I just don't want to act like a guy again."
Astroboy: "You're gonna grow a dick?"

Astroboy: "Blah blah blah..."
Me: "That's stupid. No man, that's beyond idiocy."

Astroboy: "So what did you say to the girl?"
Me: "I don't know, I don't even know if I smiled or said thanks.."
Astroboy: "You probably didn't. You probably had your neutered cat look again."
Me: "What does a neutered cat look like?"
Astroboy: "I had this issue of Mad Magazine and there was a cartoon about this guy who neutered his cat and the cat just kept staring at him all day, with wide eyes and no frown, no smile, no nothing."
Me: "And I do that?"
Astroboy: "Well yeah. That spaced out look, the blah look."
Me: "Huh?"
Astroboy: "And then sometimes you just have your mouth open. Remember? You read with your mouth open."

That's us being nice to each other. Really.


***

WENT to the premiere of Charlie's Angels 2: Full Throttle.

Movie was a bit too much but it was a lot of fun. You just have to force your mind to stop working and make your inner critic shut up to enjoy it.

Demi Moore is absolutely beautiful. She stirs my inner lesbian and makes her happy.

But watching her made me miss my hair too.

I'm going to stop talking about my hair soon, I swear.

***

ASTROBOY thinks I kinda look like her. I don't watch Six Feet Under but J tells me that she's disturbed and screwed up.

In the distant and not-so-distant past, people have told me that this actress and these characters remind them of me too.

What is it with me and disturbed chicks?

***

CHRI passed the board! My cousin is a dentist now! I hate dentists but not her!

I told you I told you I told you! I knew you'd make it!

I was so happy I think I screamed and laughed at the same time!

I am soooo proud of you!

Look at all the exclamation points!!!

audblog audio post

This crazy woman will soon be pulling out your teeth



 
June 24, 2003

Worst bridesmaid of the year all time

"You are the most delinquent bridesmaid in the history of the world!"

Yes, Jules, I deserve that title.

And I'm sorry.

I swear to god, I really intended to go to Rajo's last week but the flood stopped me. I didn't want to try my gorgeous bridesmaid's gown on after wading through the murky water, no way. I didn't actually wade through the murky water - in fact, I didn't step out of the house - but you know what I mean.

But I promise to go either later or tomorrow.

I promise, cross my heart, hope to never buy another pair of boots again.

I also promise not to lose or gain too many pounds within the next two months as not to require major alterations.

And on your wedding day, I promise not to spill anything on my gown before I walk down the aisle. No, scratch that, I promise not to touch anything that might stain the dress from the moment I put it on to the moment I take it off. No nail polish, chocolate milk, tomato sauce, red wine, no no no way.

I promise not to wear boots on your wedding day.

I also promise not to trip over my high heels when I walk down the aisle.

I also promise not to get drunk at the reception and make an idiot of myself. [You should ask J to make that promise too.]

Really. I promise.

Because it's your special day and I'm happy for you and I know how excited you are and I want that day to be absolutely perfect, to be beautiful and magical and to be something your grandkids and your great grandkids and all the other kids will be hearing about.

And, this is more for me than for you but still, I promise to be a better bride than I am a bridesmaid.

So please please please help me, God.


***

Superherozero?

Supernanny may not be super after all.

The other maids, the laundrywoman and the nurse have been complaining about her.

Some complaints were valid, other complaints were petty but one fact remains - her arrival has disrupted the natural harmony in this household.

And now I need to iron things out.

There is a huge possibility that Supernanny will be taking off her cape to go back to her normal life soon.


***

Switching gears

Because Supernanny was late in coming back from her weekend trip to the province, I spent the cab ride to the office in silence, thinking about life.

I don't know if it was the new boots, the new haircut or something else entirely, but I felt really good.

The more I thought about my world, the more I fell in love with it.

And what's not to love?

I am loved, deeply. And I'm not going to take it for granted.

I am once again within the loving circle of my imperfect but wonderful family.

I have friends who are amazing when sober and amazingly funny when drunk.

I am surrounded by people who care enough to curse and get mad when they hear about how the universe and its bad people can be unfair to me sometimes.

I have loyal people who remain loyal to me, hacked-off hair and all.

I have our own songs to sing and they need major polishing but shit, that's still an age-old dream that has turned into reality.

I get to do the things I want and when I want to.

I get to write - not just for work but for me too.

I am not rich but I get what I need - a lot of the times even what I want. And sure, I'd love to be rich, who wouldn't, but right now this is good enough. It is.

So screw the crap I've had to deal with career-wise because life is good.

I got to the office late but I was happy and perky and ready to be nice to everyone.

And for the most part, I think I stayed that way the whole day.

The rest of the world made it easy.

I'm glad.

And above that, I'm grateful.


***


Things that made me happy this past day or so:

My new boots.
Sally Hansen's Chrome Nail Makeup.
How easy it is to dry my hair now that it's shorter.
Sam's walnut brownies.
The pizza we had at the office.
Audblog.
Mom's garlic chicken.
Working on the fake site and ads for J's skincare line. Heh. That was so much fun.
Dragondude learning Tagalog.
The long conversation Mom and I had in the car on our way home. We talked about delicate matters and didn't fight. I'm repeating myself, but it felt really good.

Things that made me feel bad this past day or so:

Thinking about how old Tony Bennett is.
The papercut from the pizza box.
Thinking about all the hair I lost.
Realizing that I'm still not brave enough to fly.

The good outweighs the bad, like it always does.


***


"Oh my god, bakit ka ganyan?"

- Mom to Supernanny, after seeing Supernanny walk on the street on bare feet because she left her slippers in the house


***


audblog audio post

The Belgian priest was charming and all and I would always always be in awe of the things he has done, but transcribing the interview was a real challenge.

A bigger challenge than stopping yourself from buying things that you want but don't really need like a cotton candy maker you want to use to make black cotton candy and more toe rings even if you don't have enough toes to wear them all.




 
June 23, 2003

The conspiracy of the retail gods

Malls are eevil. Eevil, I tell you.

I knew I was right when I thought about leaving my money in the car. That was the best way to make sure I wouldn't spend a single peso. But my manipulative inner shopper spoke up, "No, you might need it, in case of an emergency..." And the rest of me listened.

Besides, I thought, as I walked into the mall, my pocket pregnant with what's left of this month's budget, the situation was relatively safe. I was just going to have lunch with my family at CPK and we'd zip right back home. Unless they made me pay for lunch, which was very very unlikely, I'd make it back to the parking lot with all my money intact.

Right? Wrong.

Because while I was waiting for my spinach artichoke dip and BBQ chicken chopped salad, I felt the overpowering urge to go to Topshop. What kind of girl abandons her favorite shop for months anyway? My cousin Joseph tagged along.

"Last chance to buy"

Black letters blinked at me from a pink sign.

Topshop was having a sale.

Oh my.

I looked through the discount rack and found the denim dress/coat that I had been salivating over months ago.

Oh. My. God.

Moral dilemma started, resulting in another major meeting at the Pammy Headquarters.

"Should we buy it?"

"Yes!"

"No!"

"Yes!"

"No!"

"Why not?"

"We shouldn't be spending."

"But they slashed off almost a third of the price."

"And we do have more than enough money in our pocket.."

"We are going to regret this."

"We are going to regret not buying it."

"When we're poor and our paycheck is late, can we eat the dress?"

"But our paycheck won't be late."

"It's been late too many goddamn times."

"But it's soooooo nice."

"Remember, we tried it on and even Melda said it was nice?"

"No she didn't, she just nodded a little."

"Come on, you like it too."

"Yeah, but is it worth it?"

"Yesssssss. Can you see the fine stitching? And the lovely soft denim?? Come on....."

"This will look great with our boots."

"Which one?"

"All of them."

"Fine. We don't have to decide now. Let's go have lunch. And if we still want it after lunch, let's come back."

"Okay."

"But wait, what if it's gone when we come back? We'll be devastated."

"Then it wasn't meant to be."

"Fiiine."

Joseph and I walked back to the restaurant to have lunch. And after I finished my last bite of pizza and dodged the spoonful of apple crisp grandma was trying to make me swallow, I still wanted the dress/coat.

Mom went with me. Good, I thought. She can stop me from buying it.

But she wasn't about to do that. In fact, when she saw the dress, she even said, "it's nice" and she wanted to wait outside the fitting room to see how it looked on me.

But they didn't have it in my size.

The universe made the decision for me.

The inner shopper groaned but the rest of me rejoiced.

Mom and I made our way back to the restaurant. We walked walked walked without stopping until my eyes landed on a pair of boots on display at the Replay store.

I stopped walking and grabbed mom's arm. She knew exactly what I was looking at.

Wow.

This time, there was reverent silence at the Pammy Headquarters.

Every single persona was stunned into muteness by the beauty of the boots.

As they say, out of the frying pan into the fire.

And in this case, the fire was a gorgeous pair of chocolate brown lace-up combat boots with thick velcro straps.

I walked into the store, fingered the fine leather and asked how much they were.

More expensive than the dress but hey, the dress didn't shock me into silence.

"Would you like to try them on?" The shopgirl asked, smiling at me.

Would I? Would Snow White get along with Cinderella if they met? I don't know but yeah, dammit, I wanted to try them on.

But I still practiced a little restraint, even walked back to CPK to tell everyone else where I would be before going back to Replay to admire the boots.

Mom found me in the store minutes later, wearing the boots and grinning into the mirror. They even went perfectly with the pants I was wearing.

She was the only person who could have stopped me from making the purchase but she didn't. Because she loved them too. She was even thinking about what I could wear them with.

I wanted to wear them home but I didn't have any socks on.

Settled for the next best thing. I cradled the huge box on my lap on the ride home, not caring that it was covering my face and taking up all the space.

I was cursing the retail gods but I was grinning at the same time.

dragondude: Oh MY!
dragondude: whose ass do you intend to kick with those???
pamelaangela: hahahahahahah
pamelaangela: :-)
dragondude: and stylishly to boot :-)
dragondude: *snarf
pamelaangela: pretty huh?
dragondude: yes indeed

pamelaangela: the boots smell good
pamelaangela: :-)
dragondude: youre so happy bout the boots
pamelaangela: uh huh


***

Big surprise

Dragondude likes my hacked-off hair.

pamelaangela: you dont hate it?
dragondude: heck no
dragondude: it looks good on you
pamelaangela: biased
dragondude: no, being honest
dragondude: Id take you out anytime

Lol.


***

GENIUS Aunt is back.

And she gave me presents.

Books like this and this to help me deal with my anxiety and ultra-cool nail polish colors like this and this to help me deal with my manicure and pedicure obsession.

Heh.

"I bought them for Pamela," she told grandma. And that made me feel warm all over because that meant she was thinking about me even when she went away.

I think we're going to have another session.

Which is fine with me.

She can psychoanalyze me all she wants.

Because she's done nothing but help.

She's a genius, after all.


***

WHAT kind of idiot cuts herself on a pizza box?

My kind.


***

IT was just another day in the office.

Tim was trying to finish writing, I was reading Tony Pierce's blog and gushing over the adorable little baby and J and Weng Weng were having another concert.

"If I'm smart then I'll run away
But I'm not so I guess I'll stay
Haven't you heard?
I fell in love with a beautiful stranger"

Tim tapped Weng Weng on the shoulder. "Can you please just sing in your head?"

I started singing and they joined in.

"In your heaaaaaaaaaaaad, in your heaaaaaad, zombie, zombie, zombie..."

***

audblog audio post





 
June 22, 2003

Superman? Pshaaah.

Some superheroes wear capes. And their underwear on the outside. Some superheroes fly. Some superheroes become invisible. Some superheroes are so strong they can uproot buildings from their concrete homes. Some superheroes can stop time.

I don't think he does any of those things but he's a superhero too.

To me, at least.

Some heroes give life. Or hope. Or second chances. Even third chances. Or blood.

This superhero is giving me a voice.

And that's an incredible gift.

It is.

Thanks, Noah.


***

No orgy this year

This year's Fete De La Musique was fun. But last year's was better.

If I described last year's Fete as a major musical orgy, this year's Fete was a nice musical petting session.

The music didn't take me as high as I thought it would - I think it was a matter of being at the wrong places at the wrong moments.

At least we were able to catch a shirtless Marc Abaya - hey, that's always a treat.

And we saw a lot of people we know - old classmates, old friends, drunk friends, old co-workers, new co-workers, models, musicians, enemies, high school crushes - but I didn't run into people I thought I would run into. Astroboy, for example, whose idea of enjoying the festival was sitting in his car, watching one band and then leaving.

At around 2 a.m., we were all just standing around, watching the hordes of people walk past us, waiting for the desire to go home to hit us. This girl, who seemed a little tipsy, walked up to me and asked, "Are you Pam?"

"Uhh, yeah."

For a second I thought she was going to accuse me of stealing her boyfriend. Or something dramatic like that. Then she said, "I read your..."

For yet another second I thought she would say "blog" but she didn't.

"...articles."

I stammered but I think I was at least able to smile. But knowing me, it might have come out as a smirk.

Moments like that turn me into a stuttering fool.

I stopped stuttering to laugh at J's antics. He kept waving and saying hi and making the "call me" hand signals to invisible people. That's what Fete and alcohol does to you, I suppose.

I didn't get to listen to the jazz performances because the area was packed but at least I got to spend time with Giles who I missed a lot. I didn't get to dance to reggae but at least I got to meet some interesting new people. I didn't get to drink a single sip of alcohol but at least dinner was excellent.

My feet and legs are killing me now but it was worth it.

Totally.


***

May I take your order?

pamelaangela: i'm seriously considering starting a career in food
pamelaangela: waitress
darudedawg: haha. dangerous occupation for you. A) You might eat it first if it's a fave food and B) you might poison the customers who dress like you.

A is a possibility. But B? Nah, I'm not that evil.



 
Hair today, gone forever

Of course the hair episode caused a commotion at the Pammy Headquarters. Pammy's different personas couldn't stop talking about the tragedy.

"We said two, we said two! What kind of idiot was she?"

"Was that just four inches? I think it was four and a half!"

"This is soooo tragic.. I think I'm going to cry."

"Don't cry, it's just hair! We cry about everything else but we never cry about hair!"

"That's right. When did we get to be so girly??"

"But it was four inches!"

"We shouldn't try tie our hair in a ponytail now, we'd see even more just how short it really is."

"How ugly are we now?"

"It doesn't look that bad..."

"Hey, Charlotte's hair was this long in Sex and the City's Fourth Season."

"Duh, we're not Kristin Davis."

"Well at least our grandma's going to be happy. She's always wanted us to have shorter hair."

"Dragondude wouldn't be happy about this.."

"Daniel wouldn't be happy either! He told us not to cut our hair so we could film the Sadako spoof we were planning. How could we play Sadako when we're almost bald??"

"We are bald, aren't we? This is tragic.."

"Feh. Enough. It's just hair, it will grow back."

"At least our head feels lighter now."

"Yeah, and we'd be spending less on shampoo and conditioner."

"And less time drying our hair."

"But I miss our long hair..."

"We need a sundae."

"Yeah, we need a nice quick McDonald's hot fudge sundae with extra hot fudge."

"But how are we going to weasel extra hot fudge sundae from the greedy McDonald's mafia?"

"Watch this."



 
Pop quiz

If you told your salon person to cut two inches from your hair but she hacks off four, what would you do?

a] Attack her with scissors.

b] Give her a ruler so she will know the difference between two and four fucking inches, goddamnit.

c] Attack her with scissors and then give her a ruler.

d] Hit her on the head with a dictionary. Maybe that would teach her the difference between a trim and cold-blooded murder.

e] Get down on the floor, kick, scream, wail and blubber like an ugly spoiled baby.

f] Start a one-person rally outside complete with placards that condemn salon people who do not know how to follow the simplest instructions.

g] Accuse your mother of conniving with the salon person because you know she's always wanted you to cut your hair.

h] Burn the salon down.

Apart from G which I already did mid-cut to the amusement of my mom, I still couldn't decide. Because she's not done with my hair yet. The monster is still standing over my head, wielding gleaming evil scissors.

If I don't make it to Fete tonight, that means I was arrested - for arson or worse.



 
June 21, 2003

My 7-eleven embarrassment is becoming a habit

Last night mom picked me up from work and drove me to my house so I can get clothes for the weekend. I had new jeans that I wanted to try on. I did, they fit and I took them off. I didn't feel like putting on what I had worn in the office so I grabbed silk blue pajamas from my closet. But I couldn't find the matching top and mom was disrupting the neighbors' sleep by honking her horn and Genius Aunt just arrived from the airport and everything was a mess and Supernanny was adding to the chaos and I wasn't done picking out clothes so I grabbed the pajama top that was closest to my fingers.

Pink. And floral.

I threw it on, too frantic to work on all the buttons. I jumped into mom's car and tried to catch my breath.

Who cares if they didn't match, they were comfy.

But as mom drove to her house, I realized I'd need internet access.

Man oh man.

I entered 7-eleven in silk blue pajamas and a pink floral top, ignored the stares and bought my cards.

I had one comforting thought. At least I was still wearing a bra.

So the next time you go to 7-eleven and you see a weird girl just wearing a towel or maybe a lovely guy's denim shirt, that's probably me.



 
Alien invasion

For the past few weeks, J's life has been plagued by the existence of a major pest.

His flatmate's sister.

The girl has basically taken over their house. She bugs him constantly, asks stupid questions and has made a nuisance of herself.

The girl gets J so annoyed that he often chooses to just leave the house to avoid being rude or nasty.

Just a couple of hours ago, she decided to take over his computer as well. J, seething, fled and found refuge in a nearby fast food resto.

But that was just the start of the invasion.

Because when J came home, he sent me this message:

"....I come back, open the door, and there's the bitch, doing number 17.... the DVD!"

Lol.

I don't know how long the invasion will last, but J, feel free to pack up your things and evacuate to my camp anytime.



 
GRANDPA and cousin were doing a little shopping and I kept bugging the merchant for discount.

"Ang mura lang nyan sa iba eh."

"Dapat buy ten take one man lang."

Then, very subtly, my 14-year-old cousin nudged me to shut me up.

You know you're starting to get old when you start embarrassing your teenage relatives.
 
Wala ka sa lolo ko...

I am such a ditz.

Was so tired last night that I overslept and was very very late for lunch with stepgrandpa.

But he didn't get mad, oh no.

I walked in late, kissed them hello and ordered my steak, creamy corn and herb butter. We made pleasant conversation and when my steak was gone, grandpa let me order rocky road fondue - dark chocolate sauce served with a platter of marshmallows, grapes, mangoes, kiwis, apples, lady fingers and smores.

After lunch, we drove around looking for an internet cafe because I wanted to use his credit card to get an online subscription. We were duped by several places with hi-tech sounding names [e-rod, something.net and a few others I can't even remember] that we thought were internet shops but are really just bad places with bad food. We got stuck in traffic for maybe an hour and still found no cafes in the area but he didn't get mad, oh no.

He even gave me his credit card info so I could just take care of the transaction in my own time.

Yeah, he's cool.

He's so cool he still wears jeans and sneakers. And looks good in them.

He's so cool he used to change my diapers when I was a baby.

He's so cool I used to sleep over at their house when I was a kid all the time and he didn't complain when I woke up at 3 a.m. looking for food - sans rival, usually.

He's so cool we used to cook Spam and sausage with honey and ate them for breakfast. And sometimes lunch.

He's so cool he taught me about the different cuts of steak and the different kinds of cheese - even the smelliest ones.

He's so cool he likes hanging out in Greenbelt with my little cousins.

He's so cool he gave my mom her first car when she was eighteen.

He's so cool he likes collecting DVDs.

He's so cool he likes taking our entire family on trips abroad.

He's so cool he has no problems with expressing his affection. He tells us he loves us and he still calls me his baby.

He's so cool he spoils all his grandchildren in various ways and various degrees that makes us all feel like we're the favorite.

And he's not only cool, he's smart.

He's so smart that when he was five years old, he went straight from kindergarten to second grade at the Ateneo.

He's so smart that he beat the smartest kid in class even if he was just 5 and the other kid was 7 years old.

He's so smart that they made him skip sixth grade too.

He's so smart he probably laughed his way from kindergarten to law school.

He's so smart that I still believe - like I always have from the time I was a little kid - that he knows everything.

He's so smart that if I joined "Who Wants To Be A Millionaire?", he'd be my lifeline.

And he's not only smart, he's incredibly talented.

He can sing, he can act, he can debate, he wins court cases - and that's just the start.

He's not only incredibly talented, he's also romantic.

Romantic without being sappy.

When my cousin asked him how he met my grandma, he told us the long story of how he ran into my grandma several times during his campaign for the 1972 elections in Manila. He even remembers what she was wearing the first time he saw her and what she first said to him the second time they met. "Do you remember me?"

And when my cousin asked him what he liked in my grandma, he said, "Isn't she fun? There's never a dull moment."

He and grandma are still affectionate towards each other.

They go out and have lovely dinners, although a lot of us tag along most of the time.

He's not only romantic, he has a beautiful heart.

I see that everyday.

And he has done so much with his life.

He's been a racetrack announcer, television executive producer and director, a stage actor, a high school teacher, a college professor, a politician, an advertising guy, a lawyer and a pastor.

And ultimately, for me, he's been a family man - he's been my grandpa.

So, to recap, he didn't get mad, oh no, he's cool, he's smart, he's incredibly talented, he's romantic, he has a beautiful heart and he has done so much with his life.

That's my grandpa.

And I love him.


 
June 20, 2003

This time there's a reason for the existential angst. Trust me.

R: "Sometimes you have to test their loyalty. You have to do that."
Me: "I am not even there yet. I'm still struggling for respect."

Sometimes I wonder how my life would have turned out if I had chosen another path.

Sometimes means now.

I wonder what would have happened if I started going to law school this schoolyear. That would have made stepgrandpa happy. That would have made my uncle happy. Would that have made me happy?

I wonder what would have happened if I went on with my dream of living in India for three months after graduating from college. These thoughts are fueled by my wistfulness for New Delhi and Jaipur and the conversation I had with Astroboy who made me feel that I could really do it. That I could just pack up and go.

I wonder what would have happened if I went back to my high school to teach.

I wonder what would have happened if I chose another career and wrote only for pleasure.

I wonder what would have happened if I did not have the responsibilities I have now.

I wonder what would have happened if I felt that I was getting the respect and appreciation I have been working for.

I wonder why everything seems to be taking a toll on me now.

Life could be much simpler.

Carpenters don't go home to dream about the pieces of wood they had nailed together.

Phone operators do not worry about answering the incessant ringing when they're out of their booths.

Waitresses don't go home worrying about tomorrow's specials.

Pizza delivery boys deliver the pizza and when they go home, they don't bring the pizzas with them.

Most people leave their work in the office. They don't carry it on their backs and bring it with them to bed. Or dates. Or family gatherings. Or vacations.

Most people take vacations.

Most people's lives aren't consumed by their work.

Most people have lives outside of work.

I am not most people.

And then I wonder.

How much is it worth?

How much am I worth?




 
I can see clearly now my brain is gone

I can cry about my life, my family, my friends, my love life but I made an unspoken promise to myself never to cry about my career.

A job is a job is a job. Just a job.

But today, I almost broke that promise.

I stood on the third floor landing of the office building that I have made my home for several years now, held on to the metal railing and fought back hot tears.

Verdict's out. I might have to quit the free paper. I've taken on too much load, I'm spreading myself too thin. Job description's too messed up.

But I love the free paper. I love the people I work with in the free paper.

You know you love the people you work with when you enjoy hanging out with them even when you're not in the office.

And that's how it was with us. They were all at my last birthday party getting drunk, we were all together making memories in Puerto Galera, we have little food fiestas in our cubicle, hell, we even have a videoke night scheduled for next week.

There is a reason why the free paper's cubicle is the noisiest, why it's the source of the boisterous laughter that disrupts the silence of the newsroom. We make working fun. Really fun.

I am going to miss them. Miss them even more than I miss McDonald's milkshakes.

People have tried different approaches in making me feel better.

"It's not going to be the end of your friendship. You can still visit them..."

"It's for the best. They have more things planned for you."

Maybe so. But my heart is broken.

And I must not let it show. Couldn't let it show.

Because I've got other things to take care of, responsibilities to fulfill, sections to close.

I cannot believe I'm too busy to grieve.




 
Monkeys can breathe silent fire

Battle is not over yet.

But already, I have learned things about myself.

Dragondude likes to say that I'm fierce about the things and people I love.

These past two days, I learned that I'm fierce about me too.



 
Astroboy goes French

astroboy: are you going to that fete thing this sat?
cookiedoughjunkie: of course man
cookiedoughjunkie: who isnt?
astroboy: alright so i have no life. do you have to rub it in?
astroboy: anyway, am going
cookiedoughjunkie: hahaha
cookiedoughjunkie: you cant
cookiedoughjunkie: twerps will be stopped at the gate

***

And I go German

Tim just got back from New York and gave me cute beaded flip flops and the While You Were Sleeping DVD I asked him to buy for my grandma who has a crush on Bill Pullman.

He gave me something else too but I'd rather not say. Although I'd let on this much - two words - eight inches.




 
When the dragon is away, the monkey will sleep

manuel: so whatcha doing now?
cookiedoughjunkie: surfing
cookiedoughjunkie: starting to feel sleepy actually
manuel: egads
manuel: shocking
manuel: hahaha
cookiedoughjunkie: LOL



 
June 19, 2003

The new Valium

Last night we didn't write any songs.

I got home from work late and Fi had gone to bed early so Chri just went over my house. We ate the chicken my mom had cooked. And talked. And talked. And since I had taken off my Happy Feet sandals and I could hardly smell the strawberries and bananas on my skin, yesterday's events came rushing back to me again, getting me worked up, getting me annoyed, getting me all riled.

Actually, I think I had been furious the whole day. But I have a knack for making the worst things funny and I am pretty good at distracting myself so I swung from making little jokes and then talking about my Happy Feet sandals and back to making little jokes and that's how I survived yesterday. I did falter during one moment, though, when this joker approached me, eager to start one of our verbal battles. We'd normally hurl words back and forth, just good-natured teasing - but he had bad timing.

He was about to start in on me and I glared at him and said, before I could stop myself, "Not today. Because today I'm capable of murder."

And he backed off, just like that. I hope I didn't do him permanent damage.

But back to Chrissie and me.

So we talked, and I was furious about what happened and she could sense it. And she was talking sense into me and being logical and calm and saintly like she always is but I was too worked up to be easily pacified. I must have been getting really loud because at one point, my grandma actually got up from bed and peered into the dining room, looking disoriented and disturbed by the noise. And Supernanny, who was sitting at their dining table several feet away from us, was laughing at my antics.

I realized there was no one around who could pacify me but me. I stood up and looked for reinforcement. I found my answer in the fridge - in the huge 1500-gram bottle of Nutella that Nona had sent from Italy. It is huge - so huge I needed two hands to carry it. Grabbed a spoon, dipped it into the rich chocolate and started licking. I could feel the endorphins partying in my system. And after just seconds, I was calm again, even borderline woozy.

Talked about nicer things like our plans to start new lives elsewhere, Dragondude, crazy pants and my masculinity.

I am now considering putting spoonfuls of Nutella into little containers I can take with me everywhere, just in case I get worked up again.

***

IF you don't have anything nice to say and what you have to say isn't constructive at all but just plain annoying, you better keep it to yourself.

Because one day, you wouldn't know what mood I'll be in and I might just decide that it's proper for me to punch your face to shut you up and teach you a lesson.

I'm all for freedom of speech but realize that sometimes freedom has its price. And in your case, it may be a broken nose and knocked out teeth but hey, wouldn't that be interesting.

Now hand me the Nutella.


***

MY FRIEND Manuel is leaving in a few hours to start a new life in the U.S.

Lucky lucky him.

Hey, Hotguy, I know you hate mush and this might make your hair stand on end but I'm going to miss you. Yes, even your sarcasm.

But hey, the rest of the world needs a taste of it too and we shouldn't be selfish. So go knock them dead.



 
angry seething girl + manicure + pedicure + massage + new sandals + red nail polish = happy perky girl

Me: "Dude, I am so pissed!!
Astroboy: "You're what?"
Me: "Pissed! I can't believe.......................... Are they insane??? This doesn't make sense!!"
Astroboy: "Where are you now?"
Me: "On my way to the nail spa. I need to relax."
Astroboy: [chuckling] "Okay, man."

Received less than savory news. And since I needed to cool down, I left the office. Rode a cab to Glorietta but I felt the intense need to walk. So I walked. I walked quickly from Glorietta to the walkway to Greenbelt 3 to Greenbelt 1 to Legazpi Village. Walked so fast that Supernanny fell behind a few steps, huffing, puffing and sweating. I stopped walking when I reached the nail spa. I collapsed on one of the luxurious white couches to have my hands and feet pampered.

I was still so mad that I thought the treatment wouldn't do me any good. But the bubble soak was calming. And the aroma of the strawberry-banana scrub and lotion that I picked out relaxed me even more. I sipped iced tea and enjoyed my CD and comic book as Ester and Didi's hands kneaded away my anger. Soon, there wasn't an ounce of hostility left in my body. How could I fume? I was too busy picking out which shade of red I wanted for my nails. Finally settled on Essie's Crushed Berries.

And since I had worn boots today and putting them back on after my pedicure would spell disaster, I decided on this month's splurge. Red Happy Feet sandals to match my nail polish. The best thing about these sandals is you could change the straps to match your outfits. I bought extra blue straps. I thought about getting the white ones too but knowing me, they'd be gray in no time. I will just wait for the pink straps - they will be coming in two weeks.

Of course, being the idiot that I am, I chipped my left big toe as I was getting off the cab at my office. The damage was teeny tiny, though. I can live with it.

My nails are pretty, I've got new sandals to abuse and my skin still smells of strawberries and bananas.

Tonight, I'm happy.

Tomorrow is another battle.


***

NAIL spa trip might turn into a habit.

Today, the spa brought itself up a few notches on my list of favorite places.

I think I'll say goodbye to my old manicurist. Her service has been getting bad lately.

Besides, I'm starting to really like Ester. She's worked on my nails twice and she's pretty good.

Not only are her hands great, she gives good nail care advice. And she says she likes my feet - that they're like a baby's.

Flattery will get you really far.

Heh.


***


Paradigm shift

It was only tonight that I found out that Carolyn Keene, author of the Nancy Drew books and the heroine of my first-grade self, never existed.

My childhood has been shattered.

I need a moment.



 
SOMETHING exploded at the nearby LRT station and all the lights went out. Suddenly, we were engulfed by the dark and the only light we could see was the glow of my laptop's monitor in the living room. It seemed to be miles away. I felt a hand on my wrist and another on my back. My cousins are terrified of the dark. And because fear is contagious, I found myself terrified too. We grappled our way to the living room, as one person with six legs. Then, we collapsed on the couch and sat close to the monitor, as if its light had the power to give us life. Or at least protection.

And for a while it did.

Thank god for battery-operated devices. I slipped a Sex and the City DVD into my computer and we let Carrie and friends take our minds off the dark.

Two episodes, two phone calls to the electric company and two ignored nature calls later, the lights went back on.

We heaved a sigh of relief and went on with our lives.



 
June 18, 2003

The things I do for the love of Dragondude

We were about to start our songwriting session when Chri and Fi's dad called. Since it was flooded, he was going to park their car at the nearby hospital and he wanted Chri to pick him up in their SUV. Chri convinced Fi to go along for the ride. And since I didn't want to be left alone, I jumped up and joined them.

I jumped up and joined them, completely forgetting two little facts. One, after taking my bath I did not feel like combing my hair so I put up my hair in a wild knot and pushed everything away from my face with a purple headband. To call my hair a mess would be an understatement. Two, I was wearing a tanktop with my tie-dyed neon pants, a tanktop from my high school years - the kind of tanktop you don't ever wear outside. I forgot because it had been cold and I had a shawl wrapped around my shoulders.

Basically, I was in no state to go outside. Bah, I thought. I don't have to get off the car anyway. We'd just go out, pick my uncle up and zip back home. But on our way to the hospital, as the SUV surged through the horrifyingly dark flood, I realized that I would need to go down. Because we were going to 7-eleven and I needed to get an internet card.

It was a choice between embarrassing myself or a night without going online.

Hell, I went for option one.

I wrapped the shawl around my head and my body, covering my hair and my tanktop. I asked Fi if she'd be embarrassed to be seen with me looking like that and she said no. Good enough. I think Chri thought I was joking but she realized I was serious when I opened the door. Fi and I went down. I walked into 7-eleven nonchalantly while Fi tried to bite back her laughter. Chri walked in after us, grinning like mad. I remained nonchalant, picking out stuff I wanted, ignoring the stares. I almost ran into an old classmate from my original batch in college. I hid behind the shelf of canned goods.

We spent maybe ten minutes in the place. The longer we stayed, the more comfortable I got. Perhaps having the shawl cover most of my face made things easier.

I got my card.

That's all that matters.


***

Mozzie update

Flowers For Sally is song number seven.

Whoo.

This time, celebrated with tuna sandwiches. I made mine with three slices of bread, butter, the excellent tuna spread Fi made and shoestring potatoes.

That was the best tuna sandwich I've had in my life.






 
ACCORDING to Kazaa, I'm a guru.

That's based on my participation levels - they're higher than high. And the fact that I haven't been downloading anything but letting all these people leech off me is helping bring them even higher.

Oh my. I really do spend too much time online.
 
DRAGONDUDE knows exactly how to cheer me up.

"havent been this happy to see a human in 4ever"

You sweetie.

Hehe.

 
THE weather is screwing up my plans.

I was supposed to have a busy day. I wanted to go to the bank, get my money, visit the designer's shop to try on my bridesmaid's gown, go to the salon to get my hair trimmed, go to the nail spa for a manicure and pedicure, go to the mall to buy gifts for my godchild and then the highlight of my day - have dinner with my grandparents. I even knew what I was going to order - rib-eye steak with creamed corn and herb butter.

But now I'm stuck at home because of the damn flood.

There are days when I'd kill for an excuse to stay at home but today isn't one of them.



 
ONE of my greatest joys in life is sharing food I love with people I love.

J and I have gone through this exercise countless times. And it has never been a big success because while I am Miss Passionate-About-Most-Things-Edible, J isn't exactly a food person.

I would go on and on and on about something I just tasted, something I think that he absolutely has to try. And when we finally get the chance, I'd wait for him to take his first bite eagerly. He'd chew carefully and swallow slowly. Then he'd either shrug his shoulders or say "hmmm" or "okay" nonchalantly, like he didn't understand what the fuss was about. I'd then roll my eyes in exasperation and we'd go on with our meal.

Yesterday, he finally flipped over something I let him try.

It was really my mom's discovery. A huge bag of chips called Super Chips that costs only 14 pesos.

J loved the chips so much that in the middle of a quiet conversation, he looked up, eyes flashing with panic, "Where are the rest of the chips???" He became calm again when he saw the leftover bag of chips on top of the computer table.

The Hot Original Glazed Krispy Kreme. CPK's BBQ Chicken Chopped Salad. Cibo's crostini with spinach dip. So many other heavenly treats. They all got the cold shoulder.

But the 14-peso bag of chips was showered with praises.

It's my turn to shrug.


 
June 17, 2003

BAD things are happening all around me.

A few weeks ago, there was a brawl at a restaurant I reviewed, a restaurant I loved.

A few days after, there was a drive-by shooting outside a club we've gone to a few times. One person died.

The other day, a taxi hit a tricycle just a couple of blocks from my office. The tricycle driver lost his leg right on the spot.

Just an hour or so ago, when I was still in the office, my mother SMSd. She was worried because she heard that there's a huge fire on the street of my office building. I walked to the third floor window to look for flames or smoke but saw nothing. I can hear faint fire engine sirens ringing in my ears but that could just be my mind playing tricks on me. On the way home, I think I saw smoke and flames flickering from afar, but that could just be my mind playing tricks on me.

Bad things are happening all around me.

I'd want to think of something clever to say about this but there's nothing.

This is like having bullets raining down - you start wondering when one will hit you.


***

ANXIETY is starting to kick in again.

I listened to Genius Aunt's advice and have been avoiding the Metro pages and the news. But sometimes the news just comes to me.

I have also been starting to revert to normal activities. Supernanny and I came really close to riding a bus a a few weeks ago, but I changed my mind at the last minute because I was too tired. Still, even just thinking about it was progress. I am seriously considering riding a plane again - possibly in a couple of weeks. That's a big step. A step made even more difficult by last month's traumatic boat ride.

Just tonight, anxiety levels rose twice for different reasons - but I was able to remain calm and logical. And yeah, the breathing helped.

I am determined to get better, to acquire and maintain my stability. I am not going to even think about the possibility of medication.

I do not need pills to remain sane.


 
I KNOW things have gotten really tough for me when I feel the urge to walk to my living room and stare out the window in the middle of the night.

And when this happens, I'd just stand there, looking out. There really isn't much to see. Old houses, distant buildings, the occasional truck or car passing by. But it does so much for me.

When I feel that I've calmed down, I begin my walk back to my room, usually on bare feet. On my way there, I run my hands across the wooden walls. I use my fingers to trace the pillars I used to play with as a child. I drink in the soft lights that make our living room glow. I move the artworks aside and feel the imprints my great-uncle left on the wall when he used to measure me and my brother regularly to check how much we were growing. This house holds so many secrets, so many memories. All these things make our house beautiful, this house that my grandfather had built for us.

Maybe it's not looking out the window that helps. Maybe knowing that I'm inside does.



 
AND no, Mister Sad Fucker, I'm not being a drama queen, this is just me living my life.



 
June 16, 2003

Wistful

Have spent hours watching the last DVD of Sex and the City's Fourth Season. The ending of episode #61, "The Good Fight", hit me hard.

In that scene, Carrie puts a curtain between her and Aidan, but then emerges just seconds later, sits between Aidan's legs, leans back against him, puts her arms on top of his and he leans over and kisses her forehead. Then they just sit back, and they're just there, together.

Executive Producer Michael Patrick King said something about this scene in his commentary. "The thing I love about this scene is it really is a delicious idea of what a relationship might be."

Wow.

More than anything on my Amazon wishlist, I want that.

I do.

But the next episode, "All That Glitters...", ends with Carrie's words, "That's the thing about relationships. Sometimes, they look prettier from the outside."

Bah.

Sex and the City is bad for your health.

Or at least mine.


***

I WAS not built for this.

I feel so beaten up.

I'm exhausted.

And this time, I can't blame the tears on PMS.




 
Powie wants to steal Supernanny. Jules wants to kidnap her [That is, if I don't try on my bridesmaid's gown in this lifetime - and I will, on Tuesday, I promise, please please don't kill me]. Ruthie wants to talk to her about Meteor Garden. A handful of people have been asking for her pictures. Wengweng and J have even blogged about her. And yeah, people who read this blog have been calling her Supernanny to her face.

Heh.

She is getting way too popular.

And she has no idea.


***

MY grandparents moved recently, to a new house with a big backyard. Everyone wants to do something different with it. My grandpa is planning to buy a pool table. My cousins want a basketball court. One cousin wants go-karts. My other cousin wants a mini golf course. I want a badminton court.

We can all dream.


***

IN the middle of dinner, while talking about the new house, grandma turned to me and asked, "May pag-ibig ka ba?"

Huh? What a jump, I thought. I stopped chewing and stared at her, trying to come up with an answer. I opened my mouth to speak but she cut me off.

"May Pag-ibig ka? Yung Pag-ibig Fund? Yung para sa mga loan?"

Whew.

That was like a bad comedy skit.


***

TONIGHT'S dinner was delicious. Loved the kani salad, teriyaki, maki and rib-eye. And this is just the start. This week is going to be a blast for my palate. I've got way too many lunches and dinners planned. But I'm not complaining, hell no.

Will just make up for it. I think it's time to bring the rollerblades out.



 
IT WASN'T exactly cold enough for the stole with the faux fur trim but I didn't let that stop me.

Heh.

Had a good half day with my family.

It was a day for mentally stimulating conversations, like the one we had over a lunch of takeout chicken and prawns at stepgrandpa's boardroom:

Cousin1: "We need more catsup."
Cousin2: "Yeah, they only gave us three packs."
Stepgrandpa: "Here." [brings out a bottle of Heinz]
Me: "Nah, Heinz isn't good with chicken."
Cousin1: "Yeah, chicken is good with banana catsup."
Uncle: "I like banana catsup."
Powie: "Me too."
Cousin2: "I like tomato catsup."
Great-uncle: "Why is catsup called catsup when there's no cat there?"
(laughter)
Me: "Ask lolo. Lo, why is catsup called catsup?"
Stepgrandpa: "I don't know, why?"
Cousin1: "Yeah, why?"
Cousin2: "Yeah, why?"
Great-uncle: "I don't know, that's why I was asking you."
Me: "I thought you knew."
Great-uncle: "No. Think about it. And why is a hotdog called a hotdog?"
Me: "Why?"
Great-uncle: "I don't know, that's why I was asking you."

It was a day for interesting stories, like the ones stepgrandpa entertained us with - the one about the relic my cousin Izrael left in Israel [near the mountain of salt ---> believe me, you don't want to hear this story] and how our ten-year-old cousin keeps insisting on eating at Italianni's every time they go out because he has a crush on the receptionist.

And my favorite parts of the day:

1. The Big Mac of a tuna sandwich Powie and I had for breakfast.
2. When stepgrandpa hugged me in front of everyone, called me his baby and told them I'm his number one favorite. Heh.

When they all went to the mall, I went to the office to work.

But they're picking me up in a while for dinner.

The other half of the day is about to begin.

Cool.




 
June 15, 2003

SOMETHING has to be said about walking around the mall while listening to your own songs blaring from your headphones.

Surreal.

Totally.

Sidenote: Kat brought a CD of our songs to her school and asked some of her friends to listen, telling them it was some unknown band [not a lie, heh]. She said they enjoyed the songs. Cool.


***


WHEN I wake up, I will be going to church with my family and then we're going to have lunch out - probably to celebrate Father's Day with stepgrandpa.

Yes, church.

Scrape your jaw off the floor.


***

THERE'S a huge storm coming. It's already started raining - hell, my house is already flooded. [But I'm safe and dry at mom's.]

The bad news: I have to face the possibility of spending another five days stranded in the office.

The good: The weather might be cool enough for me to bring out my knitted tan stole with faux fur trim.

Hell, if I'm going to be stranded, I'd want to be stranded in style. My coats will be saying hello to the world again. No more 120-peso shirts from Shopwise.


***

HAPPY Father's Day, Dragondude! ;)




 
IT WAS my first time to ride in a car with my brother driving.

He looked so grown-up in the driver's seat, a far cry from the chubby two-year-old who used to slobber all over me. But I didn't have enough time to get teary-eyed, no.

I was too busy hanging on for dear life.

But ten minutes later, I was able to put on my headphones and relax. Hell, I even enjoyed the ride.


***


TODAY I ate many things, too many things that are bad for me.

Sour cream and onion fries, chocolate-filled marshmallows, strawberry-filled marshmallows and Japanese seafood shrimp crackers. I was even looking for Takoyaki balls but couldn't find them.

I stuffed myself with things that delude me into believing they're nourishing me when all they're really doing is clogging my system with junk.

Yeah, except for cigarettes and drugs, I like things that are bad for me.

Like sleepless nights, staying out 'til 6, vodka and the wrong men.

But I'm breaking the habit. Or at least one of them.



 
YOU have to read this guy's latest post.

Wow.
 
FELL asleep early this morning beside my mom, with her hand resting on my knee. Then I woke up mid-morning to feel her smothering my face with kisses.

Nothing like it to make me feel like a little girl again.

Slept really well.

Today, mom, my brother, my grandma and I are all going out.

Life is good.


 
Ways to make me happy without knowing it #47

Handed my brother another CD to listen to - Mozzie's version of Cold Cold Heart. CD flew back at me like a frisbee. "Eh si Norah Jones to eh!"

"Gagu, ako yan."

I could also tell you about the time Mom compared us to The Beatles but hey, another day, another delusion.



 
I AM so riled that I'm itching to go for a walk - and I probably would if I were somewhere else. Because in this city, you cannot go for a walk at almost four in the morning without worrying about getting mugged, getting raped or getting killed.

So shit, I'm staying put.

I can pace in the living room. And when I get tired of that, the kitchen.

I need to walk this off.

Because it's either that or bawling my eyes out.

And fuck, I am so sick of swollen eyes.

Let me have the walking.

Let me have all the goddamn walking.


 
According to Quizilla, I am a weird dream.

I'm okay with that. I was so sure I was going to be a nightmare.


***

I WONDER when you're ever going to just let me in. Really really really let me in and not have one foot out the door and not have your defenses up and not be constantly ready to walk away and start healing before anything has even happened. I wonder. And I wonder about the possibility of you waking up to realize you've lost me before you even really had me.



 
June 14, 2003

Another Mozzie update

Three new songs.

"The Search," "Invincible Bliss" and "Would I?"

We've been asking people to listen to the songs. They all have their own favorites but I hope it's not just because they know us.

I love playing all the songs but I really really like "That Night In The Car."

And a side note: Teej named his dog after us. That's pretty effing cool.


***

I'm a fan, an awestruck fan

Another thing that's pretty effing cool is when a band whose music you appreciate thanks you on their CD sleeve.

And I didn't even know about it until my brother told me. He was reading the lyrics while listening to Sound's bossamanila CD. Then he looked up and said casually, "Hey, your name's here."

My jaw dropped. I grabbed the CD sleeve from him.

I didn't know I didn't know.

I've had the CD for a month and I didn't know.

I even asked them for an interview last week and I didn't know.

My mouth's still open now.

Might return to normal in the morning.

Maybe.




 
Cosmetic nightmare

I woke up, headed for the bathroom, went back to my room and replied to text messages, went online, talked to Dragondude, asked Supernanny what I could have for lunch and went back to talking to Dragondude. Seemed as if I had a pretty normal day on my hands. Until this morning's dream kicked in.

And my stomach lurched.

In my dream, I walked into this huge cosmetics store and started filling up a basket with makeup. And I was excited. But when I was about to pay for my mountainload of goodies, I realized I didn't have enough money. The perfectly groomed goddesses behind the counter asked me to choose just one item. Just one. And I freaked out. And started thrashing about. Until I finally decided on a reddish pink tube of lip gloss.

And I woke up.

Oh my.

I'm dreaming about cosmetics like I used to dream about food and work.

Sure, I like spa treatments, manicures, pedicures, body scrubs and the occasional facial mask - but makeup isn't my thing. My face is usually naked when I go out. When I feel like being a wee bit more feminine, I just dig through my messy room for my lip balm and that's it. J's beauty regimen is more elaborate than mine. Because mine is just two steps - brush hair, wash face.

So why the hell did I dream about makeup?

Is this a sign of things to come? Am I about to turn into a perky girly girl?

No no no. No way.

I am mortified.



 
June 13, 2003

Father Amazing

First things first.

Interview with the priest went fine. It was a challenge, I have to admit, because he was almost deaf and was 76 and couldn't remember a lot of things, but I loved his accent and was blown away by the things he has done for this country.

Imagine devoting 49 years of your life to collecting money and supervising the construction of around 60 churches, schools, gyms, convents and dormitories in different provinces of a country that's not even your own. I cannot even begin to fathom that.

Tell me that's not fucking amazing.

If he wasn't a priest, almost deaf and leaving for Belgium tonight, I would have wanted to set him up with my grandma. I think they'd make a pretty good couple.

He was pretty cute too, for a 76-year-old.

***

Repent, repent

On our way out of the seminary:

Supernanny: "I thought you went there for confession."
Pam: "No, if I did, we'd be there 'til tomorrow."

***

You know your life hasn't been normal for a while when the simple act of falling in line at a fast food restaurant to order seems completely foreign.

***

Toxic Tricky Thursday

One of the best ways life kicks you in the face is when it turns what you thought was going to be a horrible day into a pretty good one.

Yesterday was one of those days.

After the interview with the priest, I started melting under the sun while waiting for a cab. Was late for work, so late that my knees started rattling. It seemed like years before we were finally on our way to the office. But when I got there, I realized I wasn't late - because everyone else was even more late.

I thought things were going to be okay.

But we were understaffed. I couldn't go online, the system wouldn't allow me to log on. When I was finally online, I realized that the software we use for layout and editing wasn't working on my computer. When they got my software to work again, they informed me that the server had crashed and all the e-mails sent by contributors the whole day were probably lost in cyberspace. When I was done calling each person, asking all of them to resend their articles, artworks and photographs, I found out that we couldn't open very important pictures in a CD because none of our softwares could handle the file format. While this was going on, a representative from advertising kept changing my pages and space, adding to my misery.

It was like a scene from a bad comedy - where a house or a boat starts leaking and they start plugging the holes but more holes just keep popping up.

Just when I started to feel like I was drowning, just when I was wailing that nothing was going right and I was ready to just give up and go home and maybe never come out of my room ever again, things started looking up.

The e-mails started to pour in. The system cooperated with me. One brilliant guy in the IT department downloaded a software that would convert the files to jpeg [I'm ordering a pizza for him next week.]. She asked if I wanted company and when I said yes, came over, gifted me with choco-gooey-goodness and waved her magic wand, the genius writing machine she is. She came over and waved her own magic wand and created beautiful things and brought lots of Jolina joy with her. She came over all the way from Cavite primarily to pick up her F4 CDs but she also gave me a kiss and a hug and told me she missed me and I think I needed that. One heaven-sent proofreader volunteered to help out. We had proper guidance. We had enough people. I had support. I had their faith. And that made everything so much better.

Soon, there were no more holes, no more leaks.

My toxic tricky Thursday actually turned out to be pleasant and stress-free. So pleasant and stress-free I even had time to joke with the staff. So pleasant and stress-free I had time to answers text messages. So pleasant and stress-free I had time to place bets on the NBA finals. So pleasant and stress-free I had enough time for dinner - and dessert. So pleasant and stress-free I actually had time to connect with people.

And that felt good.

Work ended over an hour ago but I'm still high on adrenaline.

I love it.

***

Wengweng made me read the lyrics of this song.

This line is my favorite:

I don't want to fall asleep alone, but do I want to wake up with you?


***


How perky are you?

J laughed at me yesterday morning when he heard me talking to this woman who was helping me set up the interview with the priest. I was being polite and borderline friendly and J found it hilarious when I laughed at something the woman said.

He said I sounded like "a perky girl who was being tickled." He meant I sounded completely unlike me.

Perky isn't a word friends would use to describe me. Because yeah, normally, I'm as perky as a 64-year-old woman's breasts.

Like Karl said [yes, this morning too], "It's not you."

"Because I'm dark?" I asked.

"Yeah.."

To quote what Vato said when he first met me, "You look like you're always telling people to back off."

Oh-kay.

But yesterday, I might actually have been perky.

Yesterday, Mich said something about me being angstier on the blog than in real life. [I'm sure she got a bigger surprise from Maui though, because the queen of angst was playing Little Miss Oprah with her diet tips and CD care reminders.]

Even Dragondude noticed how happier I seemed.

Must have been an off-day. Or a fluke. Or the hormones working in reverse. Or again, the adrenaline.

But oh my.

They're right.

Because I remember myself skipping around the office instead of trudging around like usual.

Yep, I have been so unusually perky the past half day or so.

So unusually perky that I just typed "mail.yahoo.com!" into my browser just now.

Fucking scary.



 
Quote of the week

"Let's have lunch... Starbucks?"

Uhhh, NO.

I swear, that made me laugh.


 
I MADE a pest of myself and called the Belgian priest a gazillion times.

He was either out, sleeping or they "couldn't find him."

I'm starting to think that he's dodging my call.

I only have five hours left to do the interview - I have to be in the office by three for layout and the priest is leaving for Belgium tomorrow.

Ugh.




 
June 12, 2003

On a roll

We wrote two more songs last night - "I Can Still See That Day" and my current favorite, "That Night In The Car."

Same set-up - me on vocals, Fi on keyboards and Chri on guitars.

Happy is an understatement.

Whoo.


***

GUESS who's sitting beside me right now, watching The Laramie Project?

J. He's sleeping over. Yeah, we're having a two-person slumber party.

No pillow fights but a Sex and the City Season 4 marathon, a movie marathon and lots of work for me.

Feh.


 
Dear Monster Cramps,

I would really have loved to go to work today, especially since it's supposedly my first day of real employment but no, you wanted me to stay home and play. But playing with you isn't exactly a bucket of fun, Monster Cramps, because it's goddamn painful. So please go away. Don't make me force you with a handful of pills and the hot water bag that leaves ugly red marks on my stomach. But if you don't stop, I will. Because I would like to be able to use the bathroom without any fear of blacking out. I would like to be able to walk around the house and not just hide myself in my room and curl up into a ball of misery. I would like to be able to go on with my normal life even when I'm bleeding like an animal. So go. And don't come back. Or maybe you could, in a few months. Because hopefully by then I'd have the extra-strength Advil Gel Capsules that my relatives are sending from the U.S. And that will be the end of you.

Love,
Pajammy



 
Greatest songs my ass

This list sucks.

You're Still The One? I Will Always Love You? My Heart Will Go On? Baby One More Time? Mmmbop? Mmmfuckingbop???

Give me a break.


***

Holy oxymoron

My editor wants me to interview this Belgian priest. I dialed the number she gave me and ended up talking to a priest whose demeanor wasn't particularly holy.

To be completely crass about it - he was an ass.

He said the priest I wanted to talk to was taking a nap. Normal people would have taken down my name, number and message and put the phone down - but no, not him.

He drilled me for information - about me, my paper, my editor, kept asking if I had spoken to the Belgian priest before and gave me grief for calling when the Belgian priest was asleep. How was I to know his schedule, damnit? I swear, I was waiting for him to ask me for a password. It was like I called the goddamn Mafia and not some seminary.

I remained polite although I was starting to seethe at his rudeness.

I wanted to say, "Not today, Father, not when I have just started bleeding" but I bit it back.

I'm sure there's a reason for the attitude.

Must be the celibacy.


***

I'M officially employed.

I think.


 
June 11, 2003

Breakthrough

This day will go down in Mozzie history.

We finally started - and more essentially, finished - our first real song.

Celebrated with popcorn and sushi at 2 a.m.

First record of the song has me on vocals, Chri on guitars and Fi on keyboards.

"Sugar In The Sea" is playing on my computer as I type this.

And as if that wasn't enough to bring us to the high heavens, we can also play Cold Cold Heart now.

Whoo.

I'm swimming in music.

And it feels goddamn good.



 
Little spotted angels

Brought the food over to Chrissie's so we could eat there. But all thoughts of pizza, onion rings and buffalo wings flew out of my head when I saw the two baby Dalmatians walking around their living room floor.

I have kidnapped the babies. I brought them home.

If you walk past my room, you will hear cooing sounds and babytalk. Yeah, coming from me.

They are adorable.

I'm in love.

I love their puppy smell and baby dog breath. I love how they can fall asleep in my arms. I love their gorgeous little eyes. I love how they snuggle close to me to feel my warmth. I love their tiny soft paws. I love how they yawn.

One has curled up beside my computer and is sleeping, the other curled up right beside my right leg and is also sleeping.

The babies are going to sleep beside me tonight.

I need the warmth as much as they do.

***

A COUPLE of hours ago, when the puppies were sleeping, I left them on my bed and went to Chrissie's house so we could play our new songs.

Supernanny called.

"Your babies are crying."

I put the phone down and said to them, "I'll be back, the babies are crying."

And I walked back home thinking, "Whoa, that was a preview."



 
MOM SMSd to tell me that she found out that her laywer had lied to me about a lot of things.

That bitch.

I don't know why she felt the urge to lie - maybe she needed a little excitement in her life. But I will not waste time analyzing her hamster wheel. I'm just glad things are clear now.

I believe you, Ma.

It's time to start picking up the pieces.


***


DRAGONDUDE kinda freaked about the whole Type A personality bit.

And I did too, when he sent me this.

My god, I think I screwed up the test.

Because I don't think I'm a Type A personality.

I'm not rigid and dear god, I hope my personality's not flat. I don't think I've had to work hard to earn acceptance - the people in my life have been pretty accepting. I was given unconditional love as a child - even up to now, even when I don't deserve it. They say Type A people always have to be on time - hello, I can already see J's raised eyebrow - I'm always late. And no, unlike your usual Type A person, I don't need a watch handy to be able to tell time. Allow me to be bimbo-ish for a sec. I wear a watch as a fashion accessory, to complete an outfit. The fact that it can tell time is just a bonus. I can wear a watch and not look at it all day, unless I was stuck with unbearably boring people. Type A people have problems with deadlines - they find it restricting. I happen to thrive on deadlines. Type A people supposedly have esteem issues. Again, not me. My friends can attest to the fact that I'm pretty damn confident - except during very rare attacks of mousiness. Type A people have money issues - I don't. I may suck at dealing with it but money is not a big deal for me. It only becomes a big deal when I'm down to my last hundred and have to skip the extra french fries. Unlike the Type A prototype, I look at my inherent value and do not measure my worth with money. Because then I'd be pretty worthless. Heh. They say a Type A person always needs neat surroundings. Everyone can attest to this - I'm a goddamn mess. Friends have made a hobby out of organizing my bag. My grandma says every time I leave a room it looks like a tornado hit it. I wouldn't deny it. My bedroom is a fire hazard. They say Type A people deny emotion and not even know they have any. They feel guilty for having or showing emotions because they feel like they have to be a perfectly performing machine. I say, huh? I am pretty emotional - PMS or not. My friends will agree - especially those who have seen me transform into a blubbering idiot. I even have the towel I cried on yesterday to prove it. As for being a perfectly performing machine, let me just say, if someone bought me, they would be maxing out their warranty - or worse, be returning me the next day.

So yeah, Type A my ass.


***

Oops

Conversation with grandma about her cordless phone:


Lola: "Look at this, I don't think it's working."
Me: "The battery's dead."
Lola: "Yeah, I should charge it."
Me: "Yeah. See, you can't even press this button anymore."
Lola: "Yeah, I don't think it's working right."
Me: "You have to get a new one."
Lola: "Why?"
Me: "Because it's old!"
Lola: "So what! I'm old!"
Me: [laughter]
Lola: [indignant] "I'm old but you can still put me to use!"
Me: [laughter]



***

Food delivery whore

CHRI, Fi and I wanted to have food delivered. Chri and I tried to decide on the restaurant while chatting on MSN which was hilarious because we live just a few steps away from each other. Fi walked back and forth from my house to theirs, making things even funnier.

And when they finally called Don Henrico's to place an order, the delivery guy said he'd just deliver the food to my house because he already knows where it is.

Funny.

This is the same branch that I call, where I only have to give my first name and they would already know it's me and know where to bring the food.

Pretty damn cool.

Similar to the Chinese resto I call from my office. They don't even ask for my number or my address anymore and the food would just arrive.

Yeah, I'm a food delivery whore.






 
June 10, 2003

THIS is Supernanny's first blog entry. I would have posted this earlier but she types slow.

Pamela said I should write about what I have been doing so okay.

Yesterday I knew we had to go to her office but it was 1 in the afternoon and she was still locked up in her room. I tried waking her up, asking if she wanted to eat but she hid under her blanket and told me to heat her bath water. I wonder why she has her computer on the bed and keeps it on all night even when she's sleeping. I start tidying up her side table but she tells me to do it later. That was when I noticed her swollen eyes.

When she finally got up to take a bath, she asked me to help her find her sunglasses. I only found the blue one, not the silver she wanted. I knew she needed them to hide her swollen eyes. Ate Lin, the cook, and Ate Mel, the other househelp, were teasing me, saying I made Pamela cry. I wouldn't make her cry.

Ate Glenda, the laundrywoman, lent me pocketbooks to read. I like Tagalog romance novels - they're very emotional. I always bring a lot of books when we go to Pamela's office. Because there was one time we were stuck there for days because of the flood and I was bored and I had nothing to read.

Pamela gave me another shirt today. I like it, it's soft.

When we left the house she was wearing black from head to toe, except for her purple scarf and the sunglasses. I tried asking her why she cried but she wouldn't say. I think she has a lot on her mind. She has been forgetting things lately. Last week, she forgot her money. Today, she said she wanted to bring the soft purple slippers her cousin gave her but she forgot them.

She was quiet in the taxi as well, just listening to her music. The only time she moved was when she tapped my shoulder and pointed outside the window. The parade of the movie stars passed right by us. I saw Ding Dong Dantes and Regine Velasquez and Maui Taylor and Bong Revilla. It was very exciting but I don't think she cared. She just went back to listening to her music.

When we got to her office, she gave me money so I could eat and asked me to buy her food from McDonald's. She wanted two pieces of chicken, no leg, large fries, orange juice and a hot fudge sundae. But when Pamela opened the box, she saw that they gave her a chicken leg. She just gave it to her friend.

I just sat in her office while she worked. I used to stay in the lobby. The chairs were nice but there were mosquitos at night. I also became lonely at night, when no one else would be left there but the guards. I like staying in the office because it's bright and there are a lot of people and Pamela and her friends joke with me.

I listened to my radio, read magazines and fixed her folders and files. She has a lot of paper in her office.

I also talked to Pamela's friend Jason about Meteor Garden. I used to watch it in Singapore. I still watch it now. Pamela doesn't watch it. She doesn't watch TV. She only stays in her room and stares at her computer all day.

A few hours later, she asked me to buy street food but when she found out they ran out of squid balls, she ended up giving the food away. But I think it's good that there were no more squid balls. I worry about her. Lately she has been eating nothing but McDonald's chicken, luncheon meat and squid balls. And she doesn't drink her vitamins everyday. I leave them on little plates all over the house - beside her plate on the dining table, on her bookshelf, on her sidetable, I remind her to drink them maybe five times a day but sometimes she still doesn't.

She's stubborn sometimes.

She kept her sunglasses on the whole day and only took them off when her eyes returned to normal. It's five a.m. and we are still in her office. I have been sleeping while sitting on a chair. It's not very easy. The office is cold. It's good I have the jacket she gave me. But it's okay. She says today we will not leave the house. We will be resting.

I think today I should fix her cabinets. She says she wants to arrange her clothes by color.

Okay, I'll stop now. I think Pamela wants to use her computer again.


***

SPREAD a little love by giving out chocolates in the office.

Felt good.


***

ACCORDING to the big HR boss, I possess an A1 personality.

And he says that's pretty scary.

I tried sneaking a look at my profile, which he had in his hands, and saw these words: Leader. Urgent. Impulsive.

That's not scary... erm, right?

***

TIM called from New York to say that the Steve Madden slippers I asked him to get for me are no longer available in the stores.

Damnit.

Been trying to think of what else I could ask him to buy but have come up with nothing except maybe this and this.

And yeah, the list of DVDs I e-mailed him last week.

Pretty confident about the shopping because he's coming home around payday.

But damnit, here I go again spending my money before I even get it.

I need to be spanked.

Me: "My brother handles money better than me."

Ex-guy best friend: "Dude, everyone handles money better than you."



 
PMS Season

God help me, PMS season is here again.

Not only have I been sore all over, not only have the cramps been starting to grip their icy claws around my abdomen, but my hormones have been out of control.

Not only have I been extra-sensitive, I have been crying about everything. About every goddamn thing.

What did I bring with me to bed tonight? No, not a handkerchief, not tissues. I brought a towel with me to bed. Yes. A goddamn towel.

Let the waterworks continue.

Later, I shall wake up with swollen eyes. Again.

I am beginning to really hate this cycle.

Why does PMS bring me the extra dose of sensitivity instead of the crankiness it brings most every other female in the world?

I would rather deal with the crankiness than the tears. Because with the crankiness, I can be funny cranky and use my acidity to make people laugh.

My tears help no one.

They only succeed in making me feel wretched and goddamn ugly.


 
June 9, 2003

PEOPLE wander over to this blog for various reasons.

Some know me and want an update on my life. Others don't know me but want an update on my life. Others want to read about themselves. Others want to be entertained. Others search for something else but end up here accidentally.

I would normally ignore these poor souls who, judging by their research skills, probably end up never finding what they were looking for. But I'm feeling extra-nice today - or at least a little less mean - so I thought I'd give them a hand.

"sex and the city"+purple+kimono

I have to admit, I fell in love with Carrie's purple floral kimono too. Patricia Field, the show's costume designer, must have fallen in love with it too because she let Sarah Jessica wear it twice in different episodes. There's a picture of it in the book Kiss and Tell, but there was no caption. I'm thinking it could be vintage, Carrie wears a lot of vintage.

fuck+me+boots

Yes, I have them. I have six pairs - black, bronze-y chocolate brown, dark tan, light tan, mocha with dark brown accents and red. But I don't know how that's supposed to help. If you know how to look, you can find them everywhere - even on the sidewalks of Hong Kong. The ones I got from Beijing are particularly comfortable.

miriam+quiambao+accidental+trip

I think J would have more to say about that.

images+aga+mulach

Here.

bend+her+body

Ahh, the ambiguity of internet searches.

I'm confused. Are you talking about this, this, this or this?

Brad+Renfro+naked+in+Bully+pictures

I've seen Bully twice and as hot as Brad Renfro was, there really wasn't much to look at. Rachel Miner did more nudity than Brad. But fine, if that's what you want, here.

change+i+love+nude+paper+shell+necklace+watch+blonde

Huh?

are+brittany+murphy's+lips+real?

My question would be, which part of her face is real?

designing+house+entrance+columns

Fifi would have more to say about this. She's my brilliant interior designer cousin who's only 18 but is already being pursued by intelligent people to fix up and beautify their homes. I'd give you her e-mail but I don't know who you are.

animal+fuck+giles

Alright, you sicko. Apologize to my friend. Now.

makati+nightlife+information

Here.

my+sassy+girl+song+download

Great taste. That's one of my all-time favorite movies, thanks to Nic. You better introduce yourself to Kazaa. You can use that to download the songs - hell, you can even download them from me.

dry+humping+kissing+cousins

I'm normally open-minded but this? Ew.

But okay, here.

hot sexy girls in school out

Again - huh?

playgirl featuring Vin Diesel

Ooh. I want to see that too.

meteor+garden+transcripts

You're better off talking to her.

sad+angel+pictures

Although I consider some very special people in my life angels [and I blog about them too], there are no real angels here - at least not the winged type . But angels are her thing so you should probably ask her.

leidy+teen+model

I don't know about the teen model bit but you can find my friend Leidy here. Yeah, she can model.

pinoy+tabloid+love+stories

I used to write love stories for our commuter tabloid under different names and for some reason I seemed to be a happier person at that time. Unfortunately, our commuter tabloid has no online version. I can e-mail you some of the old love stories, though, if you're that bent on getting them.

Or you can check this site out. It's more like soft porn but yeah, I guess there's some love there.

Aubrey+Miles

Shoo. And if you want to find someone who likes her as much as you do, go here.

I just don't understand the attraction.

*exhales*

So there.

I'd like to be all idealistic and say I wish for a better Internet structure and better search engines that would lead people to the right places and not waste their time but I won't.

Or rather, I can't.

Because seeing what other people search for is pretty entertaining.

And also because that's how some special people found me.


***


WITH Fifi the genius interior designer slash bassist back home, Mozzie can start spending time in the studio again.

We've got a list of new songs we want to add to our lineup and old songs we want to relearn:

Underneath It All [No Doubt]
Don't Know Why [Norah Jones]
Cold Cold Heart [Norah Jones]
The Nearness of You [Norah Jones]
Tattooed On My Mind [D Sound]
Don't Dream It's Over [Neil Finn]
Baby I Love Your Way [Peter Frampton]
Overjoyed [Stevie Wonder]
Piano In The Dark [Brenda Russell]
Cry Me A River [Diana Krall]
At Your Best [Aaliyah]
No Such Thing [John Mayer]
It Ain't Over [Lenny Kravitz]
Good Times [Edie Brickell]

We shall be seeing Julius, our unbelievably perky technician, soon.


***

Ex guy best friend: Is she one of those people who read your blog in their undies?

Me: "No. But that's okay, I write on it in my undies."


***

HEY, look! She posted about Supernanny!

Hmm.

Maybe Supernanny should start blogging.

Or maybe she can guest-post in my blog.

Wouldn't that be interesting?


***

I DON'T know about the rest of you but I am not good at being friends with my ex-boyfriends.

Frankly, I suck at it.

But given my horrible relationship record, I'm sure you'd understand why I don't see the need for maintaining close ties with most of the exes.

Sure, everyone throws around the "we can still be friends" line during an okay, non-violent, less dramatic than usual breakup . But how many of us really mean it?

More often that not:

You say it to lessen the blow.

You say it to alleviate pain.

You say it to keep them from going psycho.

Some ex-boyfriends seemed to have disappeared from the face of the earth. Others call, e-mail and text occasionally. Sometimes, I reply. Sometimes, I don't. But you would very rarely find me taking the first step to reach out to them.

I can be civil, I can be polite, yes.

But chatty? Friendly? Enthusiastic?

No. Especially not when you call me at midnight to ask if you had been a bad boyfriend.



 
Visible

Sometimes I wonder if people have gotten to know me so much through my blog that they'd actually recognize me when they see me out on the streets.

I tell myself no. That the words and the webcam shots only serve their purpose online - that maybe my blog persona doesn't even remotely resemble the real me.

But who am I kidding? This is who I am.

And a message someone sent me on YM told me as much.

The girl said she's been reading this blog and that she saw me at Greenbelt a couple of months ago and wanted a "souvenir picture" for her twin sister, who was actually the one who introduced her to my blog. Then the girl said that her twin sister died in a car crash last week.

How does one react to that?

Now I don't know if this is the product of someone's overactive imagination or a cruel joke.

But if it's real...

Shit.

Right now, that's the best I can do.


 
He's back

Ex-guy best friend and I had a conversation on YM this afternoon.

I should probably stop calling him that and start using his real name, but since his niece supposedly reads this blog, I probably shouldn't. [Uh oh, dude, did I just give you away?]

Ex-guy best friend has grown up some and is in a real adult relationship, but apart from that, he hasn't changed much.

We haven't changed much.

Or have we?


astroboy: i wanted to talk to you about something..
astroboy: but since you were such an ASSHOLE...

cookiedoughjunkie: CONGRATS DUDE
astroboy: so im in a GOOD MOOD
astroboy: for some (stupid im sure) reason, i dont worry about telling you
astroboy: and dealing with extraneous stuff like.. inggit, or thinking im bragging.. stuff like that.
cookiedoughjunkie: DUH EH WHY WOULD I BE [jealous] OR THINK YOU'RE BRAGGING!?
cookiedoughjunkie: it's fantastic news
cookiedoughjunkie: and you definitely have bragging rights
astroboy: eh yun nga which is why im telling you!!

astroboy: you're still the same..
cookiedoughjunkie: huh?
astroboy: confusing a goddam compliment to be otherwise..
astroboy: sus
cookiedoughjunkie: LOL

astroboy: oo nga when you sent me that sob email before with the link
cookiedoughjunkie: you ass
cookiedoughjunkie: EH SHUTUP
cookiedoughjunkie: i so know youre gonna rub that in

astroboy: ex-guy best friend...
astroboy: i guess thatd be me..
cookiedoughjunkie: who else

cookiedoughjunkie: oh see there you go
cookiedoughjunkie: you screw up compliments as much as i do
astroboy: anyway.. who cares
astroboy: i KNOW man
astroboy: i swear

cookiedoughjunkie: lol
cookiedoughjunkie: hey i said good shit about you
cookiedoughjunkie: you'd probably fall off your chair
astroboy: yeah i probably would

cookiedoughjunkie: how old are you?
cookiedoughjunkie: like 12?

astroboy: ill go na dude. you might think were good friends again or something
cookiedoughjunkie: lol
cookiedoughjunkie: nah
cookiedoughjunkie: you're still exguybestfriend

astroboy: anyway, ill call you dude
cookiedoughjunkie: lol
astroboy: if and when my pride allows me to

astroboy: ah.. what else..
cookiedoughjunkie: here we go with the ten commandments
astroboy: ah.. dont be an asshole..
cookiedoughjunkie: not even sometimes?
cookiedoughjunkie: when it's necessary?
astroboy: usually that doesnt need to be said.. but in your case..
astroboy: as in always
cookiedoughjunkie: damnit
cookiedoughjunkie: not even to other people?
astroboy: dude, FUCK other people
cookiedoughjunkie: lol

astroboy: i cant imagine you an old lady do you know that?
cookiedoughjunkie: hahahahaha
cookiedoughjunkie: i cant either
cookiedoughjunkie: i'd still be blogging
cookiedoughjunkie: "today another vein popped"
cookiedoughjunkie: "my dentures are loose"
cookiedoughjunkie: "i need to get more medicine for my arthritis"
cookiedoughjunkie: "[exguybestfriend's real name] that old man is still an ass"
cookiedoughjunkie: god scary thought

astroboy: pili tayo ng imvironment
cookiedoughjunkie: ang panget
cookiedoughjunkie: ayaw
astroboy: i want an imvironemnt
cookiedoughjunkie: no
cookiedoughjunkie: ayaw

astroboy: have you ever felt like no one understood you dude?
cookiedoughjunkie: YES.
astroboy: well, im right when i say only i can get you right?
cookiedoughjunkie: yeah
astroboy: RIGHT
cookiedoughjunkie: and thats fucked up
astroboy: I KNOW
cookiedoughjunkie: lol
astroboy: i connect with this freakish 21 yr old !!
cookiedoughjunkie: HEY
cookiedoughjunkie: i'm gonna be 23 in four months, stupid

astroboy: tangina tawagan na lang nga kita
cookiedoughjunkie: LOL

cookiedoughjunkie: HEY
cookiedoughjunkie: wait
cookiedoughjunkie: you have to choose a name
cookiedoughjunkie: i have to change your name
cookiedoughjunkie: unless you want people attempting to chat with you

astroboy: oh so surprise me
astroboy: come up with a name
cookiedoughjunkie: i'll call you clairemarlo to piss you off

cookiedoughjunkie: GIVE ME A NAME
cookiedoughjunkie: damnit
cookiedoughjunkie: and because i'm being so nice to you now
cookiedoughjunkie: i'll even tolerate TERMINATOR or RAMBO
cookiedoughjunkie: or some macho shit like that

astroboy: dude MAUUBOS NA INTERNET HOURS KOOOOOO
astroboy: HINDI KO NA NAGAWA DAPAT KO GAWWWWIIIIIINNNN
cookiedoughjunkie: LOL
cookiedoughjunkie: and that's my fault??

I don't know.



 
June 8, 2003

Finally

My blog has snapped out of her funk.

She had been so cranky that she refused to let me touch her for two days.

Two goddamn days.

Tried everything I could.

Persistence. Tried to see if my undivided attention and a whole lot of clicking would do wonders but it only seemed to piss her off even more.

Anger. Cursing didn't help either. I don't think she likes the F word as much as I do.

Patience. I only bugged her every few hours instead of every few minutes, like I wanted to.

Outside help. Dragondude worked his magic but she refused to budge. Asked Blogger for a hand. Sent him an S.O.S. too.

People were telling me to just write my stuff and upload them later but nah, her bad mood put me in a bad mood.

Nothing worked.

But I left her alone for over ten hours and now she seems to be fine.

Warm, even.

I think she just needed a little time to herself.

Yeah.


***

Backlog [shuttlecocks, chocolate-filled marshmallows, honesty and an aching ass]

Weekend has been fantastic.

Supernanny and I braved the Friday afternoon traffic so I could play badminton with Gabby, JP and Rico.

I am sorry to say I failed to do any ass-kicking - because I was the one who got whipped.

I am happy to say, though, that he wasn't responsible for my pain. He was.

Yes, Rico is a badminton god.

Despite my pathetic performance, I was smug about having my muscles remain happy and calm, unlike his. That is, until I woke up Saturday morning and realized that my thighs and ass had disappeared and had been replaced by one big ball of pain. Now I couldn't walk straight.

I think that's enough penance for the dropshots, JP. Right?

But pain or no pain, I had a blast. The game was good [although I think I got more exercise from the laughter]. The Japanese meal was good. The marshmallows were good. The company was good. The laughter was good. Everything - even getting lost - was good, actually. We definitely have to do that again soon - before Rico flies off and leaves us all.

Gabby made my day by giving me my copy of The Laramie Project which he bought for only 90 pesos. [Is Booksale amazing or what?] This is the first time I've ever wanted to be in a play. If I knew how to act, I would like to be Romaine Patterson, the 21-year-old lesbian.

I got home that night and had an amazing conversation with Karl, who has been missing in action these past days. Conversation was [almost] unbelievably honest and open - and I found that so refreshing. I needed that.

It was good to spend Saturday with my cousins Chri, Fi, Kat and my brother Powie. Fi took us to CPK for dinner to celebrate her first design job [You make me so proud, Fifi]. Food was excellent, as always. We watched Bruce Almighty and had coffee [or at least they did] after.

The badminton game was good for the body.

The new book was [and is] good for the mind.

The conversation was good for the soul.

The night out was good for the heart.

Wow. I had everything covered.



 
June 6, 2003

Toxic Thursday

Thursdays are bad for my health.

Spent most of yesterday running around like a headless chicken on speed, multi-tasking, wishing I had at least eight hands and kick-ass layout skills.

My normally cooperative black fuck-me boots acted up too. Feet ached. Felt so drained.

When I got home, I collapsed on my bed and was soon nothing but a sleeping knot of exhaustion.

And as expected, I woke up even more tired this morning, body aching.

I need a massage. A massage AND a bubble bath.

But this Thursday was better than last Thursday.

This Thursday, more people were around to help. This Thursday, there were fewer pages. This Thursday, we finished six hours earlier.


***

THANK you, Wengweng, mighty believer of angels, for being there for most of the trip.

***

THANK you, Supernanny, for suddenly deciding to leave your little nest in the lobby to go up to my office. Thank you for being so OC that you suddenly started cleaning up my work area - now I can see the holy ground again.




 
Reasons why Supernanny is cool #129 and #130:

She got hooked on Meteor Garden way before people in Manila even heard of it. Says she used to watch it in Singapore. She was going on and on and on about it - I just didn't have the heart to tell her I have no idea what she's talking about because I've never seen the show. Ruthie, I think you and Supernanny should talk.

She was so enthusiastic about Matrix Reloaded. She was squirming in her seat during the most exciting parts. "Shit shit shit," Supernanny went as Neo battled his attackers. "Shit shit shit," Supernanny went as the freeway fight scene got even more heated. "Shit shit shit," Supernanny went when the credits started flashing. Movie was over too soon.

Heh.


 
Matrix, strawberry lemonade, bad tuna melt, good apple pie and panic attacks

Finally saw Matrix Reloaded with Supernanny and Atom last night. Finally.

Don't have much to say except that I liked it, that The Keymaker is my favorite character and that the tuna melt wrap I had at the cinema was bad. But the strawberry lemonade was good. And the apple pie at the New World Hotel more than made up for the tuna melt. And I talked too much. I talked too much that we didn't realize it was 3 a.m. and I made Atom nervous with my stories. And Supernanny couldn't care less because she was reading a book.


 
Abandoning Claire Marlo

I checked my mobile phone in the cab on the way to work. There was a message from ex-guy best friend.

I blinked twice.

It was still there.

Must be a mistake, I thought, as I punched the button to read it.

"sup dud"

Of course, it had to be "dud," he just couldn't be bothered with the extra "e."

Without hesitation, I replied, "now you text after a gazillion years???"

Screw syntax. I needed to make my point.

And after a few minutes of silence, "so that was it? one text and you're going to disappear into your blackhole again?"

Apparently not. Because we exchanged more SMS and we're playing badminton soon.

"sup dud"

That's how ex-guy best friend stepped into my life again.



 
June 5, 2003

Dumb and dumber

Supernanny and I left the house yesterday to take the long trip to my office. So we walk walk walked down the street, turned left at the corner, walk walk walked, turned right, talked about how the rain has stopped and how it is hot again until we reached the corner and we stopped.

We stood there waiting for a cab and I asked her if she had the keys and if she had my notebook. Keys were in my bag, I forgot my notebook at home. Ah well, I forgot one thing, I shrugged it off.

But it wasn't the only thing I forgot.

Finally got a cab, we got in, it sped off. Started thinking about the traffic, how long the ride will take and how much the ride will cost me. Started thinking if I had enough loose bills or if we had to drop by a gas station to get my money changed. Started to realize I had no money.

I. Had. No. Money. I. Left. My. Money. At. Home.

Nudged Supernanny and told her about my stupidity. Told the driver to stop the cab because I left my wallet at home. [Was easier to say that than have to explain why I had my wallet with me but it only had twenty pesos inside.]

Asked the cab driver if he could drive me back to my house. But we were on a bridge and we'd have to go around and it would take twice as long. Supernanny and I scrambled out of the car while listening to the driver promise he'd wait for us.

So we laugh laugh laughed down the street, turned left, talked about how stupid I was and how we were sure the cab driver was bullshitting us and that he would leave, laugh laugh laughed, turned right at the corner, laugh laugh laughed until we were back where we started - the gate of my house.

We rang the doorbell and braced ourselves for the laughter. We weren't disappointed.

Seconds later, we were on our way out again, this time with money.

The cab driver really did wait. So what if his cab smelled like shawarma on onion overload? He waited and that makes him the queen for me.

Sometimes I think Supernanny and I are making our own version of Dumb and Dumber. Our days out are never complete without little comedic episodes.

But who am I kidding? I was the only idiot in that scenario.

Must be the two cans of meatloaf I ate the past two days.




 
Sore loser

BECAUSE my bet didn't even make it to the 15 finalists, the Miss Universe pageant put me to sleep.

J called me in the middle of the evening gown competition to talk about Miss Japan's elegant monstrosity, which we had been gawking at online.

I said, "Huh? What gown? I must have blacked out.."

I am sorry, J, beauty pageant guru, for failing you.

So I went back to watching, trying to stay awake. I couldn't.

[Wouldn't it be amazing if people dealt with disappointment by sleeping? If napping could make those little pangs and those major blows disappear? But no, who would be left awake?]

Now I only remember the stupidest answer ever. One of the five finalists was asked, "If you were to choose between being fire or water, what would you choose and why?" I can't remember who she was, I think it was Miss Serbia and Montenegro, but she looked really stumped and said something like, "I don't know what it's like to be fire or water because I am a human being. And because I am a human being, I cannot choose. I am a girl."

Now that's quality entertainment for you.

I fell asleep right before the first runner-up was announced.

Now I'm late for work.

Bah.



 
Random thoughts while waiting for the Miss Universe pageant to start

When I eat luncheon meat, I like it sliced really thinly and fried to a crisp. Supernanny has mastered that art in just one day.

I asked Supernanny to make garlic fried rice and she asked me, "Do you want that with garlic?"

I am so ready to steal your shirts and wear them to bed.

Poor J misses his computer. [Let's all take a moment.] He SMSd the other night, "God, cant stand not having a PC. Its like ur bf went to the mall three days ago and he still hasnt come home yet."

I love J because he's my best friend and he called to wake me up even if I was already awake and the other day, someone in the office said "How come there aren't pretty AND intelligent girls anymore?" and he automatically said, "There's Pam" and he may have been joking but he was able to say it without cringing and without flinching and I place value on that.

Oops, food's here, pageant's started, life is good.






 
July 4, 2003

Bring out the dusty alarm clock

Because the sun is usually up when I start sleeping, I never wake up early.

I need a very good reason to get out of bed before noon.

Early flights. Road trips. Life-altering meetings. All-important press events. Interviews that couldn't be rescheduled. The Miss Universe pageant.

Yes.

Supernanny will be shaking me awake at 9 a.m. [Or should it be 9:30, J?] so I could watch the pageant on TV.

It's not just about bimbo-bashing. Really.

I want her to win.


 
FINALLY watched the DVD of The Laramie Project that Gabby lent me.

It was so powerful.

I love how you start as a stranger in the town of Laramie but as the story progresses, it just sucks you into the center of things until you you feel like you are actually part of it.

You have to watch it. Everyone has to watch it.

There is too much hatred in this world.

And now I want everything you find here.

And you can find the real Matthew Shepard here.



 
To quote a very wise man, "Purging is good for one's soul"

Last night, I fell asleep while reading The Rules of Attraction.

Quite a change from falling asleep in front of my laptop while still online - which is something I've gotten used to the past few days.

I like it.

There are a number of things I've been meaning to write about but they've all been eclipsed by the arrival of the Krispy Kremes.

Things like lemon squares.

Yeah, lemon squares.

Someone sent a box of those over to my office. Got them Sunday night and shared them with Supernanny, the guards on the nightshift and the cab driver who took us to the 24-hour restaurant where Supernanny and I had a meal at midnight. That night I was so cheery that I would have gladly given out more lemon squares at the restaurant if I didn't know the people there would look at me like I was trying to poison them.

It's sad to be living in a world where acts of kindness are met with suspicion. To be surrounded by people who try to find the ulterior motive behind every good deed. To be one of them sometimes. Is it not acceptable that sometimes, as unbelievable as it seems, there are instances when the be-all and end-all is really just the desire to do something good? Or that the most selfish part of the act is the fact that the person feels good too when he does something nice for other people?

I remember when ex-guy best friend and I were just starting to get close, how he balked at the idea of me being caring and concerned. How he was amazed when I sent him off with little packs of goodies so he wouldn't suffer from midnight hunger pangs. He wasn't used to it, he said. What a sad life you've lived, I thought. How can you not be used to having people care for you? How can you flinch when people genuinely want to make you happy?

Generally, I'm not a nice person. That I will not deny. I'm evil and twisted and I push people away. But when I let you in, I really let you in.

One time, Karl and I were talking about how comfortable we were with each other. I said something like, "When I don't like a person, I don't like that person. I couldn't fake being nice. You've got no reason to be shy. The fact that you're getting close to me means I'm letting you get close."

And I meant that.

When I like people - genuinely genuinely like them - I would do anything for them. [Except get shots. Needles.. *shudder*]

I just wish the world would realize that not everybody is waiting for something in return. That in a lot of scenarios, knowing you made someone else happy is more than enough reward.

But enough about lemon squares. [Yeah, that was still about lemon squares.]


The first thing I said to Fifi when she got back from Chicago was:

HeywelcomebackwherearetheKrispyKremes?

"Fi, I thought you said you gained weight?"

And she flashed me her dimples and said, "I did! I'm over eighty pounds now."

But before I could start moaning about how unfair this world is, Fi went and told me she thinks I lost weight.

And that was enough to pacify me.

A few nights before that, I called J. He was at home on a Saturday night.

"Bruha to. Bakit di ka nagyaya?" I asked him.

"Let's go" was his quick reply.

So we met up at 11 p.m. and invaded Greenbelt, where I ran into the subject of my 24-hour interview and we ran into Rosa.

J and I watched How To Lose A Guy In Ten Days which was hilarious and we kept laughing and laughing but the laughter stopped when we were five feet from Starbucks and J said, "She did everything she could to shake him off and she still didn't lose him? That is so Hollywood." And it stopped being funny because real life is in no way like life in Hollywood. Not even bad Hollywood. Because in real life you don't try to lose the guy, you just do. Or they lose you. Or you lose the guy you want the most. Or you mope around for Prince Charming and he never arrives or you are blinded by losers who wear the Prince's clothes or everyone you meet has a tragic flaw and you are usually the one left to deal with the tragedy.

Yeah, that's how we stopped laughing.

J was hungry, he said. But it was 1:30. Greenbelt 2 was packed with people who wanted to get drunk. All the other restaurants were closed.

Try Hard Rock, I said. Crowd is bad but the mudpie's good.

But that night, even the performers were bad. So we skipped Hard Rock.

Streetlife, J said.

I shrugged my shoulders. Cannot remember the last time I went there but they recently renovated so they must be doing well. And they were open and at that moment that was all we needed - for the place to be open.

"Do you still serve food?"

The head waiter nodded and led us to hell.

It was hell.

In place of a real band playing real music were a group of screaming banshees who were trying to outdo each other. In place of real people sitting at real tables eating real food and producing real applause with their real hands were grotesque masks with bodies that were cheering the banshees on.

The splitting headache hit as soon as we sat down. Head waiter handed us the menu. Nothing seemed appetizing, everything overshadowed by the noise and torture.

J was yelping in pain.

"I can't deal with this," he said.

I coudn't either.

"Can we still leave?"

"Yes."

Never again, never again, we said to each other as we stood up with so much determination I thought the table and chairs would topple over.

We fled and found refuge in Starbucks, drawing energy from the salads, the drinks and the fresh air.

We talked about our lives. Fish. Men. School. Work. The future.

And we found that exhausting.

Another person who should be exhausted is Supernanny. She has been following me around most of the time. The rest of the time, she tries to make me drink my vitamins - which is already an incredible feat in itself. And she goes around the city looking for squid balls. Yeah, for me.

Turns out she and I have more in common than we think.

Her parents split up too when she was 12.

The other night, during our conversation on our way home, she made her pledge of loyalty to me in so many words. It wasn't something I asked for but it's something I appreciated.

I find myself talking to her more and more. Soon she shall be a living, breathing, walking version of this blog.

Good thing. So when I die an untimely death, someone can tell my stories. Just remember that when she says "bootch," she means boots.

She's funny like that.

She's so funny that she and I can laugh about many things. Like how the cab driver the other night got pissed when he saw that one of the streets we had to pass through to go to my house was flooded. I said, "It's not high, just stay in the middle." But apparently there was a huge gaping hole in the middle that I had completely forgotten about and the cab just drove straight into it so fast that I thought we were going to flip over. The driver had smoke coming out of his ears. I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing and I handed him a huge tip to appease him. Supernanny and I found that hilarious - so hilarious that we kept talking about it last night and we were roaring with laughter in the middle of the dark street as we walked home from 7-eleven.

Roaring with laughter in the street can do wonders for one's sanity, I'm told. Or I say, rather.

Today there wouldn't be any roaring in the street or laughing in cinemas or lemon squares.

There will only be me, my laptop, my internet connection, my work, my cellphone, my room.

I did promise myself I would do a lot of writing today.

What do you know, I just did.



 
June 3, 2003

It must be in the blood

My brother [who I've been missing like crazy] dropped by the house and saw the tub of donuts beside me in bed. He grabbed it and started tutting, shaking his head at his calorie-ignorant sister until I said the magic words.

"Hey, my Krispy Kremes!"

His eyes went wide, his jaw dropped. Then he started shrieking.

"These are Krispy Kremes!!?!?!?! %$#@&$^%%!!!!"

He opened the tub and the sugary aroma of my precious doughnuts wafted out. He was ready to grab one to wolf it down, I saw.

"No no no! Not like that! You have to microwave it for ten seconds."

He disappeared and returned seconds later.

He started eating half a doughnut in front of me, every bite punctuated by mmmmmmmms and lots of other happy noises.

Then he walked out of the room, shaking his head, muttering that Krispy Kremes have ruined his diet.



 
J is the anti-Krispy Kreme devil.

I brought a Choco Iced doughnut to the office for him and he didn't enjoy it.

Well, okay, the Ziploc, cardboard plate and the microwave made it a little soggy but still. Krispy Kremes must be revered, even in their worst conditions.

So yeah, J is the anti-Krispy Kreme devil.

And Giles is Mister Gag-me Donut princess.

I don't get it either.

***

WORST nightmare of the moment

Evil person [no, not J] holds one box of Krispy Kremes in one hand and a tray of Tim Tams in the other and hisses at me, "Choose one. Choose one. Just one..."


 
WHAT a beauty.

This is the Choco Iced Krispy Kreme grandma and I shared for dessert.

It disappeared approximately 13.89 seconds after the picture was taken.


***

IF THEY used Krispy Kremes in my math classes, I'm sure I wouldn't have turned out to be a complete idiot with numbers.

Word problem #1

If J can eat 1 Krispy Kreme in 20 seconds and Giles can eat 1 Krispy Kreme in 15 seconds, how many Krispy Kremes can they eat together in 30 minutes?

Word problem #2

If Joey can eat 1 Krispy Kreme in 10 seconds and Vato can eat 1 Krispy Kreme in 5 seconds, how much time do they need to make a dozen Krispy Kremes disappear?

Word problem #3

If Pam eats 2 Krispy Kremes every hour for 3 days, how many Krispy Kremes will she consume?

Word problem #4

Fifi bought 5 Glazed Cinnamon Krispy Kremes. Chri bought 7 Hot Original Glazed Krispy Kremes. Kimbo bought 11 Choco Iced Krispy Kremes. Mumbles bought 9 Glazed Devil's Cake Krispy Kremes. Kat bought 13 Glazed Lemon Filled Krispy Kremes. JL ate a dozen. How many Krispy Kremes do they have left?



 
June 2, 2003

It's like Christmas and my birthday combined

After spending her summer vacation in Chicago, Fifi arrived last night and played Santa.

Let me just say, Fifi got her mom's amazing prowess at choosing the best presents for people. Her talent astounds me.

Fifi filled my stocking with:

A copy of The Rules of Attraction, which she bought after reading my post about how much I wanted to get my hands on the book.

A University of Illinois shirt from the twins. If there's something remarkable about this shirt, it's the size. It's "small." Whoo. Moments like this should be documented. Heh.

Gapbody bikinis in combinations of red, white and pink from the twins' mom.

Lovely ultra-comfy terry cloth Mudd purple slippers. Chri has them in blue, Kat in pink and Fi in green. We're planning to wear them out when the rain stops.

Gorgeous new boots from Fi's mom. Will definitely wait for the rainy season to be over before I wear them. They're suede and lovely and too precious to be splattered by mud.

And the best part...

The Krispy Kremes are here!!!

Fifi had them in her hand carry all the way from Chicago to Korea to Manila.

Can you believe I'm actually smiling in the picture? That's how happy they make me.

Aren't they pretty? Almost too pretty to eat. :(

Kimbo, Fifi and Mumbles. My Krispy Kreme angels.

So so so giddy. And excited.

Thank, Fi. Thanks, Kimbo. Thanks, Mumbles. Thanks, Tita Tessie. Thanks, Tita Me.

I know I posted about my weird habit of having my new favorite things beside me when I sleep. My bed's definitely gonna be crowded tonight, doughnuts and all.

***

SMSd this message to the twins:

"thank you thank you thank you :) the donuts are here!!! mwah mwah mwaaaaaah! *huuuuuuuuuugs* i don't want to eat them yet, they're too pretty :)"

***

SIGNS that I'm really happy:

The smile in the picture.

The excessive use of exclamation points which I normally avoid.

My, my. If we had a Krispy Kreme store in Manila, would that mean I'd be a happier person? Would those amazing little pieces of heaven be enough to cheer up other miserable souls? Would this become a happier city?

Hey, Vato, work on the franchise, come on.

***

vato: whats up?
cookiedoughjunkie: krispy kremes are here!
vato: did you heat them correctly?
cookiedoughjunkie: haven't eaten them yet
vato: or have you been eating them cold?
vato: oooh, pop one in the microwave right now....
vato: 10-15 secs will do it.
cookiedoughjunkie: hehe
cookiedoughjunkie: later
vato: just enough to melt the glaze again.
cookiedoughjunkie: they're too pretty
vato: noooo, what a waste. you don't look at them, you eat them...
cookiedoughjunkie: LOL
vato: damn, so what pray tell are you doing that is more important than eating krispy kremes?
cookiedoughjunkie: blogging about krispy kremes
vato: i can't believe you can actually hold out. aren't you even curious as to what they taste like?
cookiedoughjunkie: LOL
vato: come on, just one....
vato: one little doughnut... no one will ever know...
cookiedoughjunkie: LOL
vato: come on, i have to sleep soon.
cookiedoughjunkie: hahahah
cookiedoughjunkie: after i post
vato: sige, if you don't eat that, magagalit sa iyo si god...
cookiedoughjunkie: hahahahahah
cookiedoughjunkie: again, definitely quoting you

Minutes later...


cookiedoughjunkie: wait
cookiedoughjunkie: i'll heat one of the doughnuts na
vato: coolness....
cookiedoughjunkie: oh my
cookiedoughjunkie: god
vato: LOL
cookiedoughjunkie: they are AMAZING
cookiedoughjunkie: AND LIGHT
vato: so unlike any doughnut you've had, right?
cookiedoughjunkie: YESSSSSSSSSSSS
vato: and its sheer simplicity, correct?
cookiedoughjunkie: YESS
cookiedoughjunkie: i feel weak
cookiedoughjunkie: that was intense
vato: LOL
cookiedoughjunkie: i'm serious
cookiedoughjunkie: WOW
vato: ah, another one falls victim to KK...
cookiedoughjunkie: hahaha


***

GOOD to know I'm not the only one crazy about them.






 
Things I like about Supernanny #87:

We can laugh at each other.

I laughed at her when she was chased by a dog on our way to work. She laughed at me because I pulled up the legs of my pants over my boots when we left the house and only remembered to pull them back down when I was in my office.


***

Nice surprise

Craving for pizza hit me while I was in the office.

I called Pizza Hut.

"Thank you for calling Pizza Hut Delivery. This is Vicky speaking, may I help you?"

"I'd like to order a pizza please."

"May I have your contact number?"

"897****"

"Ms. [my name], is that you?"

"Yes."

"I always read your articles."

I almost dropped the phone. Ended up stammering. "Awww.. thank you."

I spent the rest of the call grinning like an idiot.



 
Public announcement

The next time you're at the beach and a kid approaches you, waving colorful strings in the air, saying you should get your hair weaved because it's pretty and cheap and fast and wouldn't take long to do and when you're tired of it you just pull it off and it would come off in your hands like nice chewy saltwater taffy, tell the damn kid he's a liar.

Because while having it done is so easy - you just let him wrap the strings around your hair while sitting inside that sucky restaurant, waiting for the cordon bleu you ordered that would never arrive - removing the strings is a completely different story.

It is a complicated operation involving ultra-sharp surgical scissors, a headache, crossed eyes, sore fingers and punctured hands.

It did not make me happy that my hair was coming off with the strings. Granted, I have more hair than most people - even a lot of people combined - but I still do not think that justifies the unreasonable hair theft. By the time I was three-fourths done, due to my limitations as a human being, the most challenging part of the operation surfaced. The search for someone I trust enough to wield ultra-sharp surgical scissors that close to my brain.

There was no victory when it was over. Not when I can see bits of my beloved hair entwined with the purple, yellow, orange string that had held my locks captive.

I need a moment of silence.

the remnants of the hair war


 
Sometimes I really should stop myself

Meal felt incomplete so I stood up in the middle of lunch to make butter sauce.

It was too good. Ended up eating enough for two people.

Half of the evil butter sauce is still in my fridge, seduction in yellow.

I've got nothing left to dip in it.

Keep your fingers away from me.


 
June 1, 2003

LAST NIGHT, as I waited for J [who was taking his contact lenses out in the restroom], I realized that it's exactly half a year before Thanksgiving. And although I've never really celebrated Thanksgiving in the traditional way, I started creating a list in my head, a list of things I am grateful for.

This is a day late, but it's never a bad time to be thankful.

I am grateful for...

...J. For his friendship. For his patience, most especially, for listening even when I make the stupidest analogies [like last night's "salmon" and "galunggong" theory].

...my grandparents, for the unconditional love.

...good friends who love me despite and in spite of everything.

...Dragondude. For making me happy even from a gazillion miles away [I know, you'll look it up.]. For being one of the few - maybe even zero - people who have had the power to make me feel exquisite and precious. Wow.

...my cousins who can bear to look at me and listen to my stories even when I'm just in my underwear and haven't showered and is really just a scary mess of tangled hair pretending to be a person.

...my cousins who joined forces to be able to bring Krispy Kremes to my eagerly waiting mouth.

...the five days that I was stranded in the office. It taught me about survival and about needing people. It showed me the countless beautiful hearts around me that I have been taking for granted.

...the beautiful sunrise in Puerto Galera.

...the magic that is the Internet, without which I might already be insane.

...genius aunt. For being who she is and doing what she does. She gives me hope.

...my job. For being able to do what I love for a living.

...songs that really touch me.

...my hair.

...my manicurist, who never gets pissed, even when I ruin my nails minutes after she finished working on them, even when I decide to change colors when she's painting the last toe, even when I bite my nails off when I get really anxious.

...Supernanny, who finally bought shoes, who makes sure my vitamins are staring at me from my sidetable every day, who waded through the flood to bring me clothes, who cleans my room every five minutes, who makes me laugh by calling my boots "bootch."

...McDonald's, for making their chicken so good that I've been eating it every day for three days now.

...the weather. I can wear my coats again.

...my house, my room, my bed, my sanctuary.

...sleep. Good dreamless sleep.

...being alive. Wouldn't want it any other way.

My turkey was the lamb wrap I had at the cinema.