Thursday, June 30, 2005
the beauty of the day
Sometimes I don't know how I do my work. More specifically, I don't even know how my work gets done. Sometimes I don't even know what my work is anymore. And moreover, I don't know if this kind of work is even legal. It surely violates some human rights laws at one point (or the other). There are days that are happily okay. There are days that just wallows in crap. The full of crap days are the days you'd just like to stuff down Clients' throats. And if Creatives become unreasonably difficult, their throats too.
A sample of a full of crap day:
After work, I pop the CSI Las Vegas Season 5 DVD collection. I swear, I know enough about forensics and trace evidence that I could get away with murder. Now that would be the most beautiful day.
Sunday, June 26, 2005
oh manliness most divine
I have finally watched the most awaited film of our sisterhood. I could just swoon. I actually spent most of the time tilting my head to the side with a sigh in utter adore-ment. Completely forgetting that I had Chips beside me, I have come up with the criteria for which men should be judged.
Disclaimer: this is my personal criteria. You may apply it if you wish. If you do not agree that Christian Bale should be the basis of this man-o-meter, then pack you.
I want to watch it again. Or rather, I want to watch him again.
Wednesday, June 22, 2005
Obi-wan Kenobi. My little cute jedi. He is stupid.
As proven by an unfortunate event with the participation of Apester:
Note the difficulty in directional perception.
My poor, poor little jedi. The force is not with him.
Friday, June 17, 2005
gasp! the story of sin it continues
My friend who was the unworthy victim of this story of sinfulness crossed paths with the owner of the bar. The horror she had learned from him! That the sinful man and the Seducer are dating! They are frolicking, in free frivolity we presume, together in the depths of the nights.
It is the bill of sin, I tell her! It was sent by the Devil himself, for the falsifier of man to taste. And now the sinfulness he has consumed and it therefore has consumed him. The man indeed had dug his grave close to the circle of Lucifer by communing with this Seducer.
It is queer, said my friend, that she never thought that her (ex) man would be such a man of lust and earthly pleasure. In the ten months that they were together, never did he show signs that he was such. It is true, he is very unassuming. Harmless looking. None of us in the circle of friends would have expected this.
But then again. He was tempted. And he gave in. We revel in the thought that his hacked body will be swimming in the fiery swamps of hell.
Wednesday, June 15, 2005
black stilleto pointy pumps
Chips and I just watched Mr. and Mrs. Smith last night. I am now inspired to wear my black stilleto pointy pumps today because of Angelina Jolie. I thought it was a nice movie. Feel-good. Entertaining. I didn't know who to crush on... Brad Pitt or Angelina Jolie. The simple script (with all the sly, subtle remarks) did it well for me too. Adore Brad Pitt's ability to pull off them cute comic reliefs without ruining the action's momentum. It's like a crescendo in the middle of the song which is cut by a dramatic pause but then resumes to peak. Also love the car chase. It's the whole surrounded and fighting for their lives as a couple in slow-motion scene that came across as too choreographed. Oh well. It was beautiful to watch anyway (sexeh).
Chips sums it up as a "good date flick with suppressed action".
The other thing I wanted to do with my black stilleto pointy pumps was to stick them into the eyeballs of the couple sitting beside us (imagine a mad, psychotic Fozzy face). And we were watching in the oh-so-targetted cinemas of Greenbelt 3. Yuppies. Decent people. Never did we expect that a guy in an office barong and his girlfriend would cause so much annoyance. They were giggling. The guy was giggling too. I'm not talking about a giggle and then pause. I'm talking about rapid machine-gun giggling. The girl had her high-pitched falsetto voice. The guy went well beyond the acceptable manly snicker (or manly haha laugh). Argh. In that beautiful car chase I heard more giggles than gunshots. Punyeta. Apparently, the guy also saw the movie beforehand. He was the type who walked his girlfriend through the events. He was explaining the scenes. For the love of God just let her watch the movie by herself! Argh. It was a good thing we had good food to munch on. At least that somehow took our minds off the mad gigglers.
Okay. This movie down, Batman Begins to go. Christian Bale here I come. Mmmm mmmm.
Sunday, June 12, 2005
The hardest part about leaving is the uncertainty of being missed.
Found this while rummaging through my notebook.
Funny how short thoughts spell so much emotions, so accurately.
Thursday, June 09, 2005
girls and then boys
Behold how different "fun" is manifested between the race of the beautified women and that of the testosteroned men.
compared to: a sober male mind in power of red balloons.
Why am I even writing like this... hah, even I am totally overwhelmed by the last post!
Tuesday, June 07, 2005
the first circle of hell & the first evil ditch
This is a very long story about sin. About the Lustful and the Seducers. Behold these persons will most likely go into the first circle of hell, where those who have been tempted and sinned by an excess of desire and passion will be whirled endlessly within a murky gale, symbolic of how they let the winds of passion take away their virtues. If not this light punishment, they will be thrown deeper into the circles of hell and into the first evil ditch of the Seducers. They will be punished similar to their ways - because in life they drove others into sin, so shall they be driven endlessly by horned demons who whip their backs with great lashes.
This story is of my friend, who is involved with someone whom she did not know to be a Lustful man, but instead knew him to be an upright man of respect. In which case he could also be thrown into the tenth evil ditch of the Falsifiers where he will be changed into a hog who should run without pause amidst the terrible smells of the ditch. But lo, it was all revealed, with the aid of a Seducer who claimed to be a devout Catholic (and an Opus Dei at that) - one who prays the rosary daily, who wears a blessed scapular around her neck (which she can't take off because it is she wants to go to heaven), and who believes in the sinfulness of pre-marital pleasure. And yet this Seducer, she wears a short plunging camisole such that the pendant of her scapular hangs in between the crevice of her chest like a hypnotic device shrouded in mystery. Men will be compelled to follow that long chain into the deep darkness of sin. Alas, she also wears a tight pair of low-rise jeans, to make her belly breathe freely the sinful stench of that night. And so by this the Devil will be confused. Because he can also throw this Seducer into the sixth evil ditch of the Hypocrites.
The Story of Sin.
It was on a fateful Friday night that the Seducer rose from the bowels of hell (and yet she wanted to go to heaven). A coming together of friends and of couples. And as a couple, my friend and her upright man of respect who was in truth a Lustful man, came into the bar. And there, amongst people they knew, curiously, was a girl unknown to them - the Seducer - who coincidentally like the Lustful man, hails from the land of huge sprawling campuses. So this couple (my friend and her falsifier of a man) mingled with the impending danger unbeknownst to them. My friend, after a few minutes, noticed that she was bored. And bored she shouldn't be! Because she has fed herself happily, was drinking glistening alcohol, and was with her man. But then again, her man - her upright man of respect, was not in reality "with" her. A conversation he was deeply in with the Seducer and in this exchange of seemingly harmless words in squeeky perky voices the spell of evil has been cast.
And with that the man began to reveal his true nature. The Lustful man, after selling his virtues to the Seducer, announced the need for a cigarette. Behold, who should be the sole being who had sticks to spare - of course, the Seducer. Her and her swinging pendulum of temptation in the darkness of her bosoms that is no longer a sacred scapular. But the stick she did not wish to spare. Nay, instead, the stick she desired to share. And so to the horror of my friend, she witnessed her man in a saliva-sharing ritual of cigarette huffing and puffing. While in the whole time that she and her falsifier of a man have been together, no saliva sharing rituals of anything has transpired - not even of straws or utensils. And yet now there is a sharing of bodily fluids and carbon monoxide with this wench who wears frivolity like a glove.
The story of sin did not stop there my friends. Because now the heat of the night propelled the group to move to the interior of the bar. And there, in the absence of a dance floor, the Seducer broke into a hip-girating and body-swaying dance of temptation. My friend, she was revolted by this sight and ordered once more a beautiful glass of glistening alcohol. And lo, the Seducer, she had the nerve to sit herself down on the lap of the Lustful man, who was seated beside my friend. My friend was appalled and gravely disappointed, much more so than with the saliva-sharing, because her Lustful man made no effort at all to push the Seducer aside. No muscle, no limb, not even a nerve was utilized to actively rid his lap of the Seducer. The Seducer herself, after long seconds of enjoying her positioned lapness, was the one who edged herself aside. Was this not a grave sin on the part of the so-called upright man of respect? To not reject the scapulared manifestation of frivolity but in fact welcome such seduction in the presence of his real partner? The souls suffering for their carnal sins in the circles of hell rejoice at this for they welcome now a brother.
But then my friends, the sinfulness still does not end there. In a grand finale, the winds of passion and pleasure take over these two souls. But first, let us focus on the Seducer, who sprawls herself on a table like a doily before the owner of the bar (who was part of their get-together) who was counting his earnings for the night. She inquires flirtatiously if money shall be rewarded to her if she breaks into another dance of demonic temptation. The bar owner rolls his eyes in annoyance and gives this doily of a girl 100 bucks and shoos her off her table. The Seducer, ecstatic with her newfound richness, shoves the bill in into her camisole. And yes, it is shoved there together with the very well defied sacredness of the scapular. She moves to face my friend, who is wallowing herself in alcohol in hopes to blur out the transpiring events. The Seducer leans forward and my friend is against her will beholding the grand canyon of hell. From where, the Seducer requests, she fish out the bill with use of her tongue. Out of respect for her dignity and the presence of her falsifier of a man (even if he is so), my friend rejects the invitation. And so the Seducer moves to victimize the Lustful man and poses the same carnally unsanitary request. At this point my friend briskly stands up and moves towards the owner of the bar, expecting that her man, as any decent partner of a man would, follow her in revolt to such request. But no! This man full of lust and shame even dares to ask my friend permission to grant the Seducer's request. My friend is utterly appalled. And even more so when this poor excuse for a man with his mouth indeed fish out the bill of sin from the darkness of the Seducer's chest. Que horror! My friend, as she wants to maintain her poise and respect for herself, did not choose to show her anger and stoop to the levels of these beings of the damned. Because then the Devil might also throw her onto the stinking swamp of the Wrathful souls of hell. Oh no, that she did not want.
So after such happenings my friend decides that she will not have anything more to do with this falsifier of a man. And rightly so.
Through the whole of the weekend she does not talk to him. But lo, the man wants to talk come the second eve after the above's events. My friend welcomes him into her home and the man dares to accuse her of wrongness because she failed to be hospitable to him during that night, that she was being bitchy and unreasonably cold. Pray tell what kind of reasoning is this? The Devil would be ecstatic at the sight of this. But then he will be later confused because this man he can either place in the circle of the Lustful or in the ditch of the Falsifiers. And now possibly in the ninth ditch of the Sowers of Discord, Scandal and Schism where he will be hacked and torn by a sworded demon and forced to carry his dismembered body for all eternity... because in life he has brought upon painful separation on something meant to be united. The shameful, lustful and falsifier of a man has no remorse. No wrong did he admit to be his. And that the frolicking with the Seducer he defined as "fun". This definition the Seducer probably fed him from the dictionaries of the demons. And so my friend also defined to him what this story of sin has brought to them - "an end".
Monday, June 06, 2005
the bora, it is over.
This time, I really got to appreciate the serenity of Bora. The last time we went, it was literally in the heat of summer - parties everywhere, the beach was crowded, so many people up and about until the wee hours of the morning. We were lucky that time that our hotel wasn't anywhere beside the "night life".
Chips and I were never really the party-going types. We both don't like cigarette smoke, I get drunk really easily, and he doesn't sleep well when he drinks too much. So it was great that Bora was, at its peak season tail end, quiet and plain peaceful. A great paraw ride, a massage on the beach, an afternoon nap on the sand, a good book, and being with someone you can't get sick of talking to (naks). Sigh. I could have well done without my "monthly friend" (basahin ang isang blog for details). But anyway, it was just grand. I'll let the pictures speak for themselves.
Okay. Reality check. Back to work.
Sometimes bored. Most of the time oddly alive. Phobic of butterflies. Creatively suppressed. Hungry for coffee and shoes. This is my subconscious talking... at times interrupted by my reality.
a nomad in tofu town
chocolates & sapphires
uncontrollable writing urges
lost in the wilderness
chona in the city
what mama jojo says
a jayveebug's life
driver ng bayan
up dharma down
the patient mental
insane adventures of d
alamat ni kuya jeff
welcome to nio
ang juanang kapatid
anino ni abaniko
kapihan ni qroon naomi's leaf who is eyevan?
lessons of knoizki
marlon's twisted list
blog ni skittles
ideal pink rose thoughts & photographs soul^tude the gypsy cat south central jen yuri's flight manual arie's blog v for vina snippets of a wanderer lazarus' thoughts iskoo glances over the fencesitter billiedoux reviews the shoe blog
Jealousy, turning saints into the sea. Swimming through sick lullabies, choking on your alibis. But it's just the price to pay, Destiny is calling me. Open up my eager eyes 'cause I'm Mr. Brightside -- "Mr. Brightside" The Killers
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