Ack! The Monday it has passed without the mundane survey! Never the mind, we will make up for that miss with this very difficult choice, I believe, for those who like dressing their food with yummy condiments.

If there will be only ONE. As in ONLY ONE available for the rest of your life. What would it be?

Ketchup or Gravy?

Chips would go for ketchup. I would go for gravy. I guess you could say that gravy is my ketchup, if that makes any sense. And I love steak. Ketchup doesn't go with steak. End of.

The anything and everything to note when going to a beach trip list. Objective: To wash away the anxieties of consecutive hell weeks gone and expected to come.

Do:
Have a good bunch of old friends. Relive the college years. Reveal things previously unknown. The most entertaining bits surface either during the absentminded gulfing down of delicious food or at the dizzying heights of drunkenness.
Lie down on the sand with a good book. I am sorry to disappoint most of you, I have not yet finished the book. The Name of the Rose is still bookmarked, somewhere in the middle. I fell asleep on the beach. The cool breeze mixed with the sound of the waves was intoxicating.
Get a massage by the beach. The smell of milk lotion. A dimly lit cabana. Minus the annoying kid running around screaming for his mom, the moment was perfect.
Enjoy the water. The corals. And the fishies. Actually, they were big fishies. And Chips had such a grand time swimming after them with his fins - that (ahem) I gave him for his birthday.
Drink! What is a beach trip without alcohol? Our cabana was a virtual bar. A cooler of beer on the side, with Vodka, Gin and Lime, Bailey's.
Have a card game to spice up rounds of Vodka. You will need a deck of cards, a glass (preferably a shot glass) and two bottles of Vodka. The two bottles will be consumed in less the fifteen minutes. Fan out the deck of cards from which each person will pick a card. If red, you either drink a shot or take a consequence. If black, nothing happens. If you get an ace, you pick the person who will drink the shot.

Don't:
Forget a first aid kit. With the needed disinfectants, paracetamols, antacids, and pain killers. You really, really never know when you will need them.
Take the power of pointed corals for granted. They are beautiful. They are lovely gifts of nature. But they are jagged and armed to defend themselves. And so you, clad in either board shorts and bikinis, will have no defense but your skin (which trust me will succumb all too easily). When the tide is low and the waves are crashing... oh the pain and the agony... of swimming in salt water with scrapes & gashes.
Think that the next time, you'll pick a black card. In reference to the game above. I of course, had way to much to drink in way too short a time. A very, very uncomfortable experience. The bad thing is... I fell asleep! So during the wee hours of the morning, I experienced what it was like to be bulimic.
Leave your sunglasses on when you're lying on the beach. The victim of which was Chips' officemate, who now walks around as if cheek tint and eyeshadow were applied. This person is a guy by the way.

We had fun. And I am now on pain killers.

On another note, the reklamadora has something else to share on this beach trip.

I was bored. Stalling work. Oh look, Adobe Photoshop. Click. Clickity click. Click. And wahey what did you know, out came a new background! I'm test-driving it first. If anyone has violent reactions, I'm going to put the old caffienated one back.

Thanks to tomorrow's beach trip for the inspiration. And also to my new Havaianas :)

Weee! Beach!

I am so addicted to Cooper. Every night, whatever time I come home, and in whatever state of stress I am, I just have to play with him. He's like my little project. Call me a stage mother.

He finally responds to his name. And he already knows how to sit and lie down on command. He's quite lacking on the "come here" department though. He'd much rather go into this "not moving" stage after he's lied down (which is much like me). My next project is this "say hello" trick I found on the internet. The idea is that when you say "say hello", he rests his head on your lap for you to pet him. Wouldn't that be so cute?

Now I want to go home. Gad, I so want to go home. Just look at that cutie.

The only thing about Mondays I actually look forward to. I spent the good part of my morning in traffic and my leg is cramping quite a bit. During the weekend, Chips and I dropped by a BMW Expo and he test drove the new 1 series. It was pretty cute. But then it's not really my type. Can you already tell that this mundane survey will be about cars? Like I'm a car buff. Well, I'm sure you guys will know more than me.

And the choice is between (and pardon the sorry excuse for terminologies):

the
small/regular sedan-towards-sporty car
and
the big SUV-pick-up-ish car.

I would go for the big bulky car. I'd pick a Land Rover over a classy sedan or a sports car. I actually want my wedding car to be a white Hummer. The bulkier and boxier it is, the better. Like the old Nissan Patrols. The Rav4's of the world just don't do it. Of course my judgement is based purely on aesthetics and the subjective amount of sex appeal it generates for me. Aside from the practical reasons of being able to see beyond the bumper of the car in front of you, and the decreased chances of being swept away in a flash flood.

So guys, to which mundane choice would you steer?

I hate it when this happens. Or when I witness this syndrome on other people. It's uncomfortable and it's very disorienting. If I see another person with it, the uncomfy-ness somehow resonates. What's unfortunate is that sometimes they themselves don't mind. Urgh.

So what is this hungry feet syndrome? I have observed two scenarios:

Feet hungry for socks. The very disturbing sight and sensation of socks slowly being sucked into the shoe. Every time you take a step, you need to tug it back up again. And the problem with this problem is that it is a recurring one. Furthermore, it's hard to pinpoint the cause of such disorder. Is it the sock? The shoe? The way you walk? This is why I prefer sandals. Less complications.

Feet hungry for pant legs. I see more victims of this rather than the one above. I witness these hapless people almost everyday, and I have to bear with the suffering sight of it until I get to my floor. This will most probably happen when the shoes you are wearing are slip-ons, rarely but could happen if it has an ankle strap, and by its nature, will not happen if your shoes are closed. The tragedy: your pants become eaten and trapped within the jaws of your foot and your shoe. And the result is a very annoyed, unfocused and totally unfashionable you.

And men say they can't see why we ladies have assigned different shoes for specific pants of different materials and lengths? Bah.

Behold the lead singer of The Killers, Brandon Flowers. Yes, that is apparently his last name. Name aside, I think it's the black eyeliner. Makes the eyes go brood. He is just too cute. Especially in the Mr. Brightside video.



*sigh*

However, Spike still rules. Ohhh yah he rules. Like bacon.



*double sigh*

If I had an official soundtrack for the way I've been feeling about my work lately, it would be Gethsemane from Jesus Christ Superstar. No, I don't feel like I'm the Messiah or anything. I'm not comparing myself to God. And believe me, my work is far from messiah-nic.

Possibly just how the words strike me now. Oh and that alone in the middle of the desert screaming your head off thing... the feeling's mutual.

Then, I was inspired. Now, I'm sad and tired.
(right on)
Listen, surely I've exceeded expectations,
tried for three years
(what a coinkidink... almost on my 3rd year!)
feels like thirty...
(very much so)

For full lyrics, click here.

Okay back to trudging around my little cube.

It's a Monday! To start your week right, let's make a mundane choice, shall we?

The perfect breakfast - is it...

Bacon or Hotdogs (Tender Juicy perhaps?)

Okay. People who know me will know my answer. I go for bacon. There is something about those golden strips marinating in their own oil. Hmmm this is getting me hungry. I can eat bacon three times a day for the rest of my life (though this might eventually lead to a shorter life). On the contrary, my cousin absolutely loves the red hotdogs. It's one of the things he misses in the Philippines since he moved to California. If he could horde and stuff the hotdogs in his luggage, he would.

So, what are you guys salivating for?

Take a look at us... the two girls in Chips' life.



Isn't Jamaica just adorable?

This post marks the launch of The Weekly Survey of Mundane-ness. Inspired by survey questions being done in morning radio shows, I decided that maybe it would be fun to institutionalize it on my blog. They actually do a daily thing but well, since I'm not a daily blogger... let's do the weekly thing... and every Monday thing at that. Wait... today's a Wednesday. Hmmm. Who cares. It's the launch anyway.

How this works: There are two mundane choices. Choose one. Explain why. Remember, the explanation is just as critical as the choice (because it's the fun part). No right or wrong answers. No judgements. Just let the mundane side of you take over. Sometimes the choice involves a question, sometimes it will be just two things and you can be the one to qualify your choice. This week, we have a survey question:


The men, of course, are free to express their sentiments whether bourne out of personal experience or what have you. To start things off, I think it's the eyelash curler. Chips thinks that it's an evolved torture device from the middle ages... especially if it's the metal one. I think the fear comes from not knowing how the hell it happens. So people, what do you think?

Bite me.