Archive for the 'beautiful ghost / introduction to songs of experience' Category


It’s kind of a damper when the jeans I bought at 70% off cost $16.50 to hem…

I really regret not taking our sewing classes seriously and asking my mom to do my project :S Heck I can’t even sew a coat button on I had to take my coat to the cleaners.

Speaking of my mom, I dreamt about her for the 1st time since she died, and at first I didn’t recognize her because she looked how she did before she got sick. I know it was just a dream, but it made me happy.

True Confessions of a Shocked B2B and her Proxy Fiance’

** I thought this post was lost for good, but apparently I had a draft of it in my old blogger blog.This reminds me of the *fun* wedding preps that didn’t prepare us for the challenge, and fun, and shock, that is marriage.


2004. Bridal Fair in one of Manila’s hotels. Not the biggest bridal fair around, in fact the place isn’t filled with suppliers, and the mood is a bid subdued.
Main Characters:
Mai – harried Bride-to-be, sarcastic squinty person who is more prone to making nasty remarks than saying kind words, still undecided about most of their wedding suppliers, frequent visitor of bridal fairs as she hopes to finally decide on and book their suppliers.

Erik – Mai’s friend from her elementary days, faithful companion to wedding fairs, kinder than Mai, but still with AH traits inherent in all Mai’s friends. Generally introduced at wedding fairs as (1) the bridesmaid, (2) the bride, (3) the fiance’

Shutterbug – Pushy photographer. Really quite good, but a bit too full of himself.
Mai and Erik case the fair. It isn’t very big, and in fact the suppliers don’t even fill up the function room. Nothing much they haven’t seen before – except a booth selling kinky underwear which has a poster of a model in a thong, complete with pubic stubble (hello Photoshop please), and a potential florist – 2171 Flowers – whose albums are filled with beautiful stylized arrangements. Mai and Erik agree that 2171 merits a 2nd look, but are a bit shocked to learn that a lily-of-the-valley bouquet would set you back from 15,000 – 20,000 bucks. Oh yeah, and a bagpiper.
Mai: slim pickings, eh?

Erik: Yeah. Not the most rewarding fair visit we’ve made.

Mai: what say you we leave. Grab a bite to eat. Window shop.

Erik: Sold!
Mai and Erik walk toward the exit and pass Shutterbug’s booth.
Bug: (smiles widely) Helloooo ladies.

Mai: Hello

Bug: So ladies, can I show you my work??

Mai: Actually..

Bug: Here here come here have a seat here here take an album and have a look at my work….my work, beautiful

Mai: Actually…we were just leaving (to herself: ahhh, I wanna leave)

Bug: Ladies!!! Have a seat!!! So who is getting married? (looks at Mai and Erik)

Mai: Me…but actually…

Bug: Ahhh good. Here, have an album

Mai: (to herself – actually, I’ve already booked our photographer….)

Bug: So when is your wedding? Ah….Feb 2005??? So far away! Ahhh, Tsk tsk tsk, I will need to charge you an extra 10,000 pesos then. But lucky you, I am not yet booked for that day!

Mai: (to herself – WTF, stupid Mai, you should have told him you’ve already got a photographer booked, now you have to sit politely, listen to his swill, and waste both your times)

Erik: (to herself – WTF, stupid Mai, get the balls to tell him you’ve already got a photographer so we can leave and eatttt!!!!)

Mai: Ah….you see…

Bug: (interrupts) : HERE! Sign my directory. Lucky you! I don’t ask just anybody to sign, you know — they have to be special…because I pick my work! I dont shoot just anyone!!

Mai: (to herself: Just shoot me then you fucking idiot hehah!)

Bug: Now you see, what I do, it is not just weddings, you know, it is FASHION! You will look FASHION!!

Mai: Huh?

Erik: (to herself: Putangina)

Bug: Here, look at this shot, is it not FASHION!!! the RAINBOW LIGHTING!!! the MOOD!!! so GLAMOROUS!!! lucky BRIDE!!! Shot by ME!! The SKILL, the EYE!!! the GENIUS!!! You know

Mai: Uhh, welllll…

Erik: (to herself: Putangina)

Mai: Ahehehe (tries to rifle through the album and sees a photo of wedding rings…)

Bug: Oh yes! look at THAT!!! those WEDDING RINGS, shot so beautifully, so FASHION!

Mai: (to herself: What the hell is this…could it be….)

Bug: Look look at the PICTURE!!

Mai: (to herself: PUTANGINA!!!! Its a PUBIC HAIR!!! Stuck to the photo!!! POTAPOTAPOTA)

Mai: (tries to flip to another page)

Bug: (flips page back to hairy ring photo) WAIT!!! LOOK AT THAT PHOTO!! See how I shot the RINGS! You know!! Not like how other ORDINARY photographers would. I do it in FASHION!!! You know!!

Mai: (tries to flip to another page) Ahhh Look at THIS PHOTO! It looks FASHION!!!

Bug: (flips page back to hairy ring photo) WAIT!!! LOOK AT THAT RING PHOTO!! Let me explain my FASHION STYLE!! Those RINGS, shot in FASHION, you know!

Mai: (tries to flip to another page) Ahhh but this other photo is NICE!! PHOTO!!! FASHION!!!

Bug: !!!WAIT!!! (flips back to rings and holds album very firmly) LET ME EXPLAIN MY FASHION STYLE!!!

Mai: (eyes glaze over, listens submissively)

Mai and Erik leave the fair and start walking around the mall.
Mai: Yo, Erik, did you see the hair?

Erik: What hair?

Mai: (mimics Erik) “What hair???” What hair?!! That fucking wiry little pubic hair that was stuck to the picture of “the rings….YOU KNOW” There was a PUBIC HAIR stuck to the picture…and it was this close to my nose!” You just missed the single remarkable thing that happened in this fucking fair. Hehah!!!

Erik: Whatttt??? YAKKK! That’s just too gross.

Mai: I know….

Erik and Mai continue walking

Erik: Hey, what do you think…how did it get there…

Mai: Eeeh. Dunno, it’s really strange. I mean, he doesn’t do his layouts in the nude right? Gross. What does he do, jack off to the photos??? Putawattafuck

Erik and Mai continue walking, in deep thought

Erik: Unless, unless…you know….he liked the bride….

Mai: Or….he liked the groom

Lost Mind

I used to be such a genius in high school. I never studied. Never. And I got really high grades. There was this magic I felt everytime I had a physics or math problem to solve, a math problem to unravel. I never understood what others found so difficult about math and physics. Everything looked so clear to me.

I used to look at the problems, copy the equation on my paper, and see the answers. Like they were there for me to pick out and write down.

I never even wanted to be an honor student. I never needed affirmation that I was smart. I just knew it. Confident ass, you say? I really was.

And I lost it. In the summer of my first year of college.

A lot would have to do with breaking up with Jo at that time and feeling so rotten that I couldn’t even make myself go to class. Calculus was a whole new ballgame. I skipped classes for most of the semester and barely made all my exams (I think I missed 2 of the 6). This was so new…looking at the questionnaire and seeing nothing that made sense. I would completely blank out, and only make points by giving a joke for the bonus. And then I lost my confidence, and everything math went downhill from there.

So I flunked it, and took it again, and flunked it again, and took it again, ad nauseaum. By the time I had passed my math subjects I had racked up 100 units for what should have been a total of 10 units. By this time I had no traces of my former confidence in Math. I was a sweaty palmed, thumping-hearted, panting shadow of my old smarty-ass self.

So does this story have a happy ending? Did I bounce back as a confident, but more mature and pragmatic person?

Thankfully yes, but not before I groveled at the altar of physics.

Finding a Klepto Friend

The whole Friendster craze must have passed me by (probably because I don’t have much friends, and the friends I have know better than to invite me to a social event, albeit on the net).

Erik’s a member though, and there are times when I rifle through her friends list and end up further and further in search of people we know or something to snark about.

My favorite Friendster character is this person who was a classmate in Poveda. She was kicked out for being a “klepto” or stealing things. Jewelry, money, and the then-ubiquitous Treton sneakers were the loot of choice.

It was a pretty horrible experience for us as the faculty had falsely accused some people of the crimes, and gone so far as to inform them not to kill themselves because “there is no escape from what you’ve done”. This group of friends were also instructed to go separate ways and not hang out together. Of course, once Ms. K (as I will call the thief) was caught, the teachers who did the accusing uttered nary a peep to the accused thieves. If I were one of these girls I would have thrown a mighty stink, but I guess people act differently, and to this day I still harbor a grudge against the teachers for being so unfair.

This group of girls became really good friends of mine. They were nice, and sweet, and intelligent. And I cannot imagine the stress they went through for things they didn’t do.

Segue to a few weeks ago. I was looking through the Friendster network and I see Ms. K. Whoo! She even mentions that she went to Poveda. Now if I were her I would skip that part of my academic history, as the usual conversation about her would most likely be “Oy, remember S___?” “Ah…the KLEPTO…” But hey, she must be really proud of the school.

Anyway, it was a kick to read her profile. She lists herself as a fashionista, her interests are Cartier, Gucci, Ferragamo, Prada, Bvlgari (yes, with a “v”, like the Romvlvs along EDSA). She says she is a member of the Globe Platinum club, etc. etc.

She also had some photos of her (abroad I am guessing), and beside a low-slung Italian sportscar, a Diablo I think.

Yarrr. How pretentious. For some reason I couldn’t stop nitpicking.

Why do people boast about their interest in name brands while wearing a poly-blend tight blouse that looks so cheap that it would probably self-combust if it came within a foot of my lit ciggie?

Why do people proclaim themselves “fashionistas”?

Why would you say you are a member of the Globe Platinum club? FFS it isn’t even really a club, it’s just a group of people who have high-phone bills, who get rewarded accordingly by the phone company.

Why o why, is it that if she was so into her name brands, could I not recognize a single item she was wearing?

Why am I being so bitchy? What does it matter to me? Is this some unresolved piss-dom from my highschool years??? I don’t know and I don’t like it. :(

Every Scar Tells a Story – No 1

Scars at the side of my nostrils (my nose is also a bit off-kilter) – stitches from a nose job.

Nose job courtesy of my beloved grandmother during the summer of 1993. J took me home from the hospital after the operation (it was an outpatient procedure and I was awake, although anesthesized. Still, it didn’t prevent me from worrying about the opera-singing surgeon’s competence, and getting grossed out by the coppery taste of my blood running down my throat, yum 100 calories).

While I was sitting on the couch in our living room, trying to breathe through my bandages, he started playing chase with Ritchie (R.I.P) our dachshund.

Run, run, run around the house. J darts this way, Ritchie chases. J runs to living room, Ritchie chases. Mai wonders what the hell the 2 of them are doing.

Mai is getting tired now.

J’s still running, Ritchie still chasing.

Mai walks to her room for some rest.

J runs ahead and darts through door to escape Ritchie. J slams door.

On. Her. Nose.


I have just come across the most beautiful story in my blogland experience.


How do you do it tequila mockingbird?