If the terms VM, LoVe or 09er mean absolutely nothing to you, then most likely so will this post.

But for those who are as engrossed in this show as I am, I'd like to reveal that this online test has dubbed me to be either a freelancing private detective father or an overprotective pitbull. Pretty interesting.

You scored as Keith Mars. You might have accused the wrong person in the Lilly Kane murder case, but we still love you! Except for those squicky moments... Keith Mars 69% Backup (2.0) 69% Wallace Fennel 50% Lilly Kane 38% Veronica Mars 31% Logan Echolls 31% Duncan Kane 25% Eli 13% Which Veronica Mars Character Are You? created with QuizFarm.com

To the most bonggacious woman ever. We love you mom. As in. Like mega.



She and my dad are on their way to Baguio today. My sister and I will follow for the weekend. We'll have an ukay-ukay extravaganza. And a fresh strawberry festival. And a reveling of fresh pine-scented air.

I so can't wait.

You're welcome to feel the bitterness.

I was watching America's Next Top Model last night. It's one of the few reality shows I could actually tolerate. Gosh they have really great bodies. Wow, they really know how to flare up insecurities. I stare at my once flat tummy. Then I catch sight of our yoga ball. Hmmm. Maybe I'll do a few crunches tonight. Probably a few arm toning exercises too.

Now my body hurts. Demmit.

Because Abaniko is right. I cannot ignore this challenge. And so I, in all my low-batt-ness, hereby present the last sane spurt of my hanging braincells.

The rules: (1) write a 100-to-200-word entry using the following words: I, me, blow job, grapes, random, power, loneliness, water, robot and blue; (2) use these words once and only once; and of course (3) the entry should make sense.

This is taking forever.

She hated the smell of the clinic. Its cobalt blue chairs. Its power-tripping receptionist. She looks like a robot with fat and a pashmina scarf.

They should replace this cheap coffee table. They should replace the cheap plastic fruitbowl on it too. She gave the grapes some random pokes.

God, that other girl is probably giving the doctor a blow job.

To mellow her state of annoyed immobility, she heads for the water fountain. And bumps into the receptionist who looks back at her, stupefied.

What, did I just magically mushroom into your horrid office?

Can we help you? The scarfed one says.

Sigh.

No, not anymore. Am just gonna get me a knife, wallow in loneliness and sever an artery. Thanks.

That's 126 words. This has got to be the most insane tag I've ever accomplished. Now, shall we pass the suffering? Eyevan, Apester, Asphaire, Sapphire, Jayvee - your turn.

*evil laughter*

This iPod thing is just crazy. Everyone is wanting to have one. That's if they don't already own one. And once you own one, it's like you're being sucked into a vortex of iPod-ness. I never really got into the hype of it. I just happened to own it because of an impulse purchase driven by a price-marketing ploy, not because I was so itching to have one. Anyway, that's besides the point. The point is, that iPod, I think, has become the world's new Barbie.

You get this cute little toy, that's already fine by itself. But then you realize, hey, it can't be naked. It needs to be pretty. It needs to be dressed up. It needs new shoes. And there's got to be something to keep its hair from being all tangled. You'll constantly find something you want to buy for it. Your iPod can go from a plain-jane iPod to a Magic Princess iPod or it can even have it's own band like... iPod and the Rockers.

And then there's the Barbie Family complex. You have the Barbie. But then Ken looks cool too. Yah, he's good to have. Hey look they came out with Stacie and Baby Kelly. They can have their own house, their car, maybe even a mobile home. Wow. It would be great if I had them all. It would be one big happy family. How I wish someone could give me Ken, Stacie and Kelly.



If you think all this talk about iPods and Barbies is senseless, well... that's because it is.

Our home is now a DSL home. After an annoyingly grueling 2 month coming-and-backing application period, finally it has happened. From a transfer rate of 0.18 kbps to more than 18.0 kbps, I am just going download happy. My dad also went on his own surfing extravaganza, getting his fill of all the online golf information he can find. My mom... well, she doesn't know how to turn on the computer.

Eliot is also getting his fill of the downloading happiness. Now I have more motivation to not go to work.

I just downloaded Fall Out Boy's "Sugar, we're going down" the other day. I'm very much addicted to it. Half the time, I can't understand what he says. And I'm not the only one victimized by this seemingly senseless collection of melodious syllables, as proven by this hilarious "video interpretation" by Andrew Mathas. As he puts it:

"The average person attempts to decode the mysterious language of emo."

Good thing there's the Google for the real lyrics.

This is a very nice song to have when you're driving. Really. Grand suicidal fun.

Who would've thought. It just started out as a little crush (well, for me at least). Can you imagine that high-school giddiness when I heard he liked me too?!? It was like, gaaaaaahhh!!! Then here we are, 5 years old. Sometimes we'd feel like it's been forever. Sometimes we don't feel it at all (the years, I mean). At some points we'd just go... wow. And marvel at how long we've lasted. It's a blessing, really. And I couldn't be any happier.

Like last year, we decided that we'd make the day our gift to each other, instead of buying material things. So we planned a nice, relaxing day at Sonia's Garden. And we also managed to squeeze in some ukay-ukay. Hehe.

Start with the yummiest salad ever.

Then have fresh bread & delish pasta.

Then finish off with dessert & tea.

And to end it all, maximum relaxation.

Then bask in the sun & not think of work.

Thought it may be entertaining to post the 2005 Words of the Year, as chosen by the American Dialect Society. From a state of non-existence to tabloid popularity, these newly coined words prove that our society is constantly evolving. Either that, or people are just getting way to lazy to look for the right word, or say the complete phrase.

Truthiness (Word of the Year). The quality of stating concepts or facts one wishes or believes to be true, rather than concepts or facts known to be true.

Podcast (Most Useful). A digital feed containing audio or video files for downloading to a portable MP3 player. From the brand name MP3 player iPod + broadcast. (and I am still alien to this, shamefully)

Whale Tail (Most Creative). The appearance of thong or g-string underwear above the waistband of pants, shorts, or a skirt. Also known as a longhorn. (I am so going to use this word in the future).

Muffin Top (Nominee, Most Creative). The bulge of flesh hanging over the top of low-rider jeans. (We witness so much of these unfortunate souls).

K Fed (Most Unnecessary). Kevin Federline, Mr. Britney Spears. (I second the motion).

Man Date (Nominee, Most Unnecessary). When two heterosexual men engage in an activity together without romantic implications.

Crotchfruit (Most Outrageous). A child; children. Perhaps inspired by the expression "the fruit of one's loins", this term began among proponents of child-free public spaces, but has since spread to parents who use it jocularly. (Can you imagine your mother calling you this?)

Holistic Practitioner (Nominee, Most Euphemistic). A prostitute. (Well that's putting it another way...)

Jump the Couch (Best Cruiselex*). To exhibit strange or frenetic behavior. Inspired by the couch-bouncing antics of Tom Cruise on Oprah Winfrey's talk show in May. It derives from an earlier term, jump the shark, meaning to (irretrievably) diminish in quality. (I never really liked Tom Cruise).

*Cruiselex is not itself a nominated word, but the term refers collectively to all the other Tom-Cruise-related words of the year.

The holidays went by fine. The highlight as usual, would be the annual Foz reunion at Ilocos. The not-to-be-missed activities include: eating all the empanada you can manage at Batac (plus deep fried tender-juicy hotdogs on the side), the videoke contest (where he who is most drunk usually wins), and the Foz Variety Show (a performance of all the Foz Brats for our grandma aka Lowla).

We also institutionalized this year, as part of the variety show, the Father Abraham portion. This is best performed if you are under the influence of a hefty serving of whisky, brandy or rum, preferably until you are as red as a tomato:

Father Abraham has many children
Many children has Father Abraham
I am one of them, so you are
(broken English essential to preserve rural flavor)
Let us praise the Lord (wave your hands side to side).

The following actions will then be chanted after the above, one added after the other until all actions are chronologically compounded onto your drunken, uncoordinated fool of a self.

Thumbs in (then repeat core stanza with thumbs pointed towards chest).
Shoulders up (with thumbs pointed inward, raise shoulders).
Legs apart (add to above, repeat core stanza).
Knees bent (preferably inward, for maximum timang look).
Neck bent (now tilt your head to the side).
Tongue out (yes, you sing everything with your tongue out).
Turn around (if all above wasn't enough).

First we had the kids do it. Now, armed with a video camera for future blackmailing purposes, make the daddies dance.

On a sober note, here are our family Christmas photos. That's me (gad what a ditsy pose), my younger sis, my mum, dad and our beautiful tree. Then there's us sisters and our fluffy old Shih-tzu, Liam:

Yesterday was sh*t. Our ad was totally turned inside out, flipped around and tumbled over into a creation devoid of any drama and consistency with the strategy we started out with. And just to make it clear, it wasn't Agency's fault. Whose could it be? Hmmm.

A lot of other little bothering things fluttered about yesterday. Plust the impending thought of all the requirements to be submitted today. In the end, I felt like sh*t too. I either needed to go shopping or be pampered.

I chose to have a haircut. I had (note past tense) long, layered, straight hair cascading up to my waist. Now imagine four big-ass inches being chopped off. What do you get? Momentary happiness on this new funky-sexy layered thing happening. Go home, realize the loss, and bawl. Not that the cut's horrendous. It's just short. The shortest I've had in five years. It's like losing your brand equity, your security blanket.

So now I'm somewhere in the middle of elation and downtroddenness (if there's such a word). Okay, I'm getting coffee. Drama queen moment ends here.

Oh yeah. Christmas break report still pending. Among other things.

I've nothing coherent in my mind right now. Have been holding off blogging until something sparks inside my skull. Some nice essay perhaps. Or some bright critiques into the somethings of this world. Nuffin happening. It must be all the cholesterol over the holidays. So here's me yammering.

I'm hoping that I'll be back to full writing mode in a few days. Until then, my "What happened during my Christmas break" entry will have to wait.

Happy New Year to all and Welcome Back to reality.