Metronaps

I so want one of these right now.

Powernap in style. Only 14 US dollars for 20 gloriously uninterrupted minutes.

http://www.metronaps.com/

UNGA Speeches of Note

Two really good ones so far: President Ahmadinejad said very harsh things against US policy, basically calling President Bush a warmonger, while President Chavez called the US President the devil himself (haha!). Not stopping there, he also called him an alcoholic and a sick man. Yeah! Hihihi!

Get in on the action! Read the speeches by President Ahmadinejad and President Chavez!

President Bush said he wanted better relations with Iran. Yet he won't agree to a live debate with the Iranian president to establish a dialogue. Because he knows very well he'll get clobbered in a debate. Something that can be easily adjusted by the media, so I really don't see what the big deal is. Anyway, didn't he say years ago that Iran was part of the "axis of evil"? Now he wants to be friends. What's that about? Also, the US government said that President Chavez who is "a close ally of Iran, Syria and Cuba, would be a disruptive force on the council". Hehe pretty soon the US government will be saying that Americans are the only people who want peace. Yes, the Iraqis and the Lebanese know all about it.

Dharma at 70s Bistro

I met up with some friends at 70s Bistro last night. Up Dharma Down was playing. I've seen them perform several times, they're quite good, strong vocals, solid band. I keep meaning to get a copy of their songs but I'm always out with very little cash. I haven't had to walk home though, fortunately, but there is always a first time. They release their stuff under the label Terno Recordings and they also have a page on myspace.

I haven't been to 70s for years and the place has changed very little since I was last there. Still nice and cozy although I wish there were better restroom conditions. But anyway peeing comfortably is not what one is meant to be doing there. We ordered a plate of hotdog and onions to complement our evening. I don't normally go out of my way to eat hotdogs (save for the occasional Sabrett indulgence) but I have to say, hotdog slices doused in barbecue sauce is a very delicious dish! Hihi.

Did a little bit of net research and, to my surprise, they have a website. Well, sort of. See it: http://www.70sbistro.com/. I'm not sure if I understood correctly, but I think bands perform only until midnight because some of the residents in the area have complained about the noise. I think the bar stays open till after that time though as there were still people hanging around when we left.

70s Bistro is located on Anonas Street in Quezon City.

Who killed Tiesto?

I was in my bed last night, getting ready to sleep when I received a text message saying that Tiesto had just been in a car crash and died from severe head injuries. I felt sick to my stomach but thankfully a friend was still online at the time and was able to check whether any of it was true.

Well. It's NOT TRUE. But you've got stupid ass sites stating otherwise.

Dj Tiesto was pronounced dead at the scene by paramedics responding to the accident. Highway Safety Investigators have told reporters that Dj Tiesto lost control while driving a friend's vehicle on Interstate 80 and rolled the vehicle several times killing him instantly.

To read more of this crap, go here.

They even have a picture of the car and everything.

Lying bastards.

Hump

These are only two of the many people who are angry with the pope.


Now I really want to know what Hump of Islam means...

Seriously though, people need to CHILL OUT.

I got this from Israellycool's The First Annual Muslim Protest Awards post. It's funny.

The Pope and a few trivial matters

The pope's comments last week have been on the news since he made them and have been discussed and analyzed all weekend. I thought a week of coverage would be sufficient but nooooo, it's still on the news today. Ugh. I also ran out of work so I was left to do online research I've been putting off for weeks. I was productive for about half an hour until I got distracted by random reading. But I soon tired of that too. So for the past hour, I've been organizing my yahoo mail into folders. I nearly cried, it was so boring.

Last Saturday was really good. I got a lot of important shopping done, namely the dress I'm supposed to wear for the wedding. I was pretty sure it wouldn't keep me warm during the wedding so I also bought a jumper. Only the jumper isn't very warm either. It's just kind of ugly and frumpy, but in kind of a cool way. Or in a chris-thinks-it's-cool-she's-such-a-spaz way. Let's not be specific. Come to think of it, it doesn't really match the dress either. Well I'll just have to freeze for a few hours then. Oh the price of vanity.

Aaaanyway, I still maintain that Saturday was a good day. I got that shopping done in an hour. I had a lot of time free, so a friend and I went to a karaoke bar hihi. And then to a another despedida party. But as the night progressed, I got paranoid and had to go home by midnight.

So many

I've stayed out too many times this week, I still get enough sleep at night since I don't work till noon but I'm so tired. So many despedida parties I've attended since late last year, people are leaving the country. Oh we're in such a state.

More importantly, I still don't have a dress for the wedding. It's okay, I still have two weeks. Hm.

Normal, relatively

The brits left Manila last Sunday. We had a crazy Saturday night, their last party night. It was insane, no one else showed up, either they had already made plans or were daunted by the storm that was raging. But the three of us weren't deterred at all; we were determined to have our drunk night. We spent hours in Tbar (real name Tiananmen Bar & Resto but it's too long to say...and confusing since there is a bar that is actually called that but we refuse to change our ways). We started our evening with a series of shooters and long drinks and cocktails and funny conversation. After a couple of hours, we ordered hot soup which Char thought was a bad idea because it would sober us up. But Oli was soaked to the bone after a brief venture out in search of a cash point and had begun to shiver. We got a buzz going and decided to head on to Government a bit past midnight. It was only down the road but the rain was still doing its thing so we got a cab and got out again after 3 minutes. Hehe.

I knew the club had renovated a couple of months ago, but I haven't been there for nearly a year now and I was curious about the changes that were made. The registration table was outside, unlike before. Another new thing, they stamped our arms with cocks. I'm not sure how I feel about that. Most important change: prices had gone up. From the cover charge to the drinks, everything was more expensive but still affordable. They must still be paying for the newly installed cages and the flatscreen TV. They also added some fake looking chandeliers to the VIPish section on the balcony and spruced up the smoking room, but it's still suffocating if you stay too long. Oh and the bouncers had new uniforms. Otherwise the place looked relatively the same. Still poorly lit and a bit scummy. Char and I felt like we were coming home. Haha. One of the bouncers remembered us, that was a big surprise. Oli got hit on as planned and we met some random people, all friendly except for this one guy, huge and beefy, who looked like he wanted to murder Oli because the man's wife decided she wanted to be best friends with O and insisted on paying for our drinks. But we were so wasted by that time, it was past 4, we didn't want any more drinks. We were all danced out, well as much as one can be on a Mariah night, apparently the dj had just gone through a breakup and was being emo. Too much to smoke, too much to drink, we stumbled outside and went in search of chickenjoy. It was all we could think about. We spent ages in Jollibee, sobering up, fooling around, being really loud.

We finally decided it was time to call it a night. It was getting light out, the sun signalling the dawn of a new day, forcing us to feel fatigue we could no longer ignore. Together we stepped outside in the soft falling rain, stood waiting for our cabs and in unspoken agreement, kept our goodbyes brief and happy. Hugs, kisses, smiles. We parted ways.

I had a fantastic time. And spent all of Sunday in bed, smelling of cigarette smoke. Whoever came up with CSI Sunday was a genius.

Talk of interviews and visa approvals

We are conducting more interviews tomorrow to find a suitable replacement for BLG (he's getting assigned to a different department). It's been slow-going. We started two weeks ago. One shows promise though, I hope she does well on the exam. We have two more to screen tomorrow.

I hope they find someone before the end of this month. I'll only be gone for a week but the work will definitely pile up and loads of files will be delayed. I actually couldn't care less; I'm going to Melbourne! It's my sister's wedding on the 30th. That's two sisters married off in one year. I wonder how my dad feels. Actually I do know. He said I can wait till next year to get married. Hehe funny man, yeah right. I am finally relieved of the not-so-quiet pressure of producing offspring and manipulative little devils pretending to be adorable tottering little grandchildren. My sisters can sort that out among themselves. I'm free.

My visa's valid for a year too. Woohoo. Such a brief visit but I'm looking forward to it. Even though I haven't a thing to wear yet.

I don't have a dress for the wedding. Grah it's just one after another, isn't it?

Fool in the rain

Wet adventure earlier this evening! I had a big ass ham sandwich in the afternoon so when it came time for my dinner break, I still felt full. So instead I decided to go over to the park two blocks away and catch up on some reading. It was a pleasant walk from the office, the sky was clear, the air cool. There were a few noisy kids around, which I don't mind for two minutes tops, so finding the place where I would be least disturbed became a very serious task indeed. Realizing that all the best spots were already taken, I made a mental pout before resigning myself in one of the unoccupied benches. I had finished reading a couple of pages when I felt something damp pelt me on my shoulder. For one horrible second, I thought some bird was being cheeky. I was relieved to find that it was only a big fat raindrop. I can handle a little bit of rain. But then bigger and fatter drops followed. I got up to look for another place and found a bench with a tree providing a bit of shade.

It wasn't enough.

No sooner had I sat myself down on the bench than the deluge began. I sought shelter a few steps away and found myself with other unfortunate people, mostly joggers but there was this one odd fellow who reeked of alcohol and the entire time we were there, he looked like he was going to throw up. I felt so bad for him. It rained and lightninged and thundered so hard, it seemed like the sky was ripping itself apart.

It went on for an eternity. Well, when you're cramped in a tiny space with strangers who don't feel like making conversation, every second you spend wishing the rain would stop is a second too long. By this time, the little dry area that we were forced to share was being threatened. I had been due back at the office for 20 minutes already. I took a deep breath and heaved a great sigh at the same time and braved the storm. I was drenched in seconds.

You have to appreciate my lovely black and white art shot (hihi):

What did I tell you? Sheets. It was coming down in sheets.

Embarrassing to enter my building. The lobby was overflowing with stranded people, loads of them corporately dressed men and women waiting patiently for their cars. I caught a glimpse of myself in the reflection of the glass door. I cringed. My hair was plastered to my face, dark wet marks on my coat, I had my jeans rolled up to show my dripping shoes. They squished with each step I took. Basically if you take a shower and get dressed without towelling yourself dry and then go back because you forgot to rinse out the conditioner in your hair, you would look exactly like I did just then. I could feel the airconditioning numbing my limbs.

I was on my break for nearly two hours. Teehee. So much for the romantic bench reading idea.

Headed straight to the restroom to sort myself out. 15 minutes with the hand dryer did very little to help. I had to explain to about a hundred people why I looked the way I looked before I finally made it to my desk. The supervisor came over to say that I would have to put in extra time because I took so long to get back. I wanted to stab him in the neck with my pencil but I had lost all feeling in my fingers. He's in the right after all, the unfeeling bastard. For the next two hours, I sat at my desk with my toes frozen stiff and my teeth chattering.

I'm home now, all showered and in clean and, more importantly, dry clothes. Warm and toasty in bed. All is forgotten and I'm excited to dream.

Scared

I scare very easily but I love horror stories. Once in highschool, my classmates and I were sharing ghost stories and when I grew too frightened, I had to cry to make them stop. I've gone inside a carnival haunted house, screaming myself hoarse and nearly peeing my pants in terror. And rendering my friend's boyfriend's shirt unwearable. I don't know why I love going to the cinema to watch gory films. And I really do watch too. I don't shut my eyes or put my hands on my ears. Instead I'll concentrate on the story and scream bloody murder throughout the entire thing.

Every couple of years I'll get these periods of morbid and intense curiosity about murderers and their shocking crimes. The unsolved cases are usually the worst simply because they are still out there. I find it absolutely riveting. I'll read in bed, just before I go to sleep. Don't ask me why. Sometimes there are pictures of the crime scenes. More often than not, there will be photos of the killer or suspect and of the victim usually looking really happy. I'll read about the events leading up to the grisly killings and I'll be terrified. And I can't stop. Gripping and suspenseful, I love it. I understand that it is somewhat of an unhealthy obsession but only now am I beginning to worry that it might be developing into a serious condition.

I've been reading about gruesome murders all this week and I had to force myself to stop reading yesterday because I've been having trouble sleeping. I've never suffered from insomnia but I'm completely spooked that I dread going to sleep. So I leave my light on and keep the television tuned in to something corny and funny. Last night, I nearly cried because I couldn't find a happy program. I was so upset. The channels I surfed through seemed to contain nothing but scenes of people killing and dying or engaging in violence of some sort.

Yes friends, I finally decided it was enough and have been trying to resume normalcy but I'm struggling. I've since occupied myself with reading about Japan's new baby boy, getting over my disappointment about Suri Cruise not looking like an alien baby (but wondering why she looks Asian), giggling over Paris Hilton getting refused entry to a club reducing her to tears (hihi), watching the interview with the Austrian teenager who was abducted when she was 10 and finally escaped after 8 years and being sad of the crocodile guy's death by stingray (Steve Irwin, you'll be missed!). I carefully avoided the newslink about the severed heads found in Mexico. But I'm so curious!

Yet none of them have been absorbing enough for me get over my irrational fear of getting hacked to pieces while I'm peeing. I normally walk to my stop after work and my usual route has been disturbed because I'm too petrified to walk past the poorly lit park. I think that there are way too many bushes in that area. I have to wash my face or rinse my hair of shampoo with my eyes open, enduring the stinging soap suds. I figure, better that than opening my eyes and having the little boy from The Grudge suddenly appear at my leg. That movie was, by far, the one that most affected me. I've never felt so violated by a storyline, I'm used to the horror movie formula where everything is pretty much dictated by a clear narrative. But damn, the ghosts in that movie cheated! Appearing in all sorts of places. You're supposed to haunt the general area of your death, not wander around and show up on buses or in stairwells. You have no business being there. I was so shaken afterwards when my friends and I left the cinema, we had moved off to one side so they could talk about it, that I was reduced to whimpering and rubbing the goosebumps off my arms. This lady appeared out of nowhere (to be fair, she was only walking past us) and sneezed! I was so rattled that I turned round and screamed obscenities at her. I apologized profusely when I realized what I had done and she walked away looking back at me like I was crazy. Huhuhuhuhu.

And now, I eagerly await The Black Dahlia because I'm familiar with the story. Huhu I still remember reading about how Elizabeth Short's body (pieces?) looked when it was found. Why do black and white photos look so much more sinister? I know it will be best if I refrain from seeing the film but I won't be able to resist.

Help me.

The Turkish delight

BLG arrived from Istanbul last weekend and came to work bearing gifts. Turkish delights, locally called lokums, according to him. They're yummy! He had so many stories and it was lovely to hear about what he'd been up to. He absolutely loved the city and wished he'd had more time. Everything was perfect, he said, until his last night when, on his way back to his hotel, he ran into this dignified looking businessman who started chatting him up. They found they had a lot of things in common and even conversed in German, to BLG's delight. The businessman, Hassan his name was, invited him for a drink at a "family bar" he owned close by after regaling him with tales about his wife and four kids. BLG agreed since it was his last night anyway and he was having such a good time. So off they went to this charming neighborhood. Turns out the "family bar" was an underground nightclub. And Hassan didn't own it like he said. BLG started feeling confused and uncomfortable and thought of taking his leave when Hassan sat them down and started ordering all kinds of stuff. After a few minutes, BLG said it was getting late and that he had to go. As he was getting up to leave, the manager came over and showed him the bill. BLG said Hassan told him he was paying but Hassan denied it. BLG couldn't make a run for it because he was flanked with waiters, the manager and Hassan on all sides. It was all incredibly organized. He had no cash on him and they looked inside his wallet to confirm and found he had credit cards inside and told him to pay with one. Faced with no other option, he negotiated the price down (the bill was over 40k) with the little Turkish that he'd picked up during the week and they seemed delighted with him enough. Hassan agreed to pay for half of the bill. When they settled everything, Hassan walked him out to get him a cab.

BLG got back to his hotel, thankfully without incident, sat on his bed for a very long time trying to process what had just happened to him before finally going to sleep. He said that was the only thing horrible about his trip to Turkey. Then he talked about the lovely people he met there, which were pretty much everyone else.

So for those of you travelling to Istanbul anytime soon, stay away from "family bars". But do grab a box (or two) of those amazing Turkish delights.

Humbug

Everyone in the Philippines knows that the Christmas season starts in September. Fondly and very unimaginatively referred to as the '-ber months' and one will definitely hear the statement "Berber na!" annoyingly followed by the useless "SeptemBERR OctoBERR NovemBERR DecemBERR", with emphatic relish on the ber syllable, as I have indicated by providing caps and letter doubling. I would have to say that they are, without a doubt, the most annoying statements ever to be recycled into existence annually. It's the first of September and already I have heard these two statements one too many times. I'm neither a very big fan of Christmas nor do I consider myself a bah humbugger (I quite like Carol of the Bells) but for crying out loud, we get it, berber very clever, alright already! Enough! It's not cute!

Who has heard a Christmas carol on the radio today? Let's have a show of hands.

Books: The Panda and its Parody

BLG lent me another book before he left for Istanbul for a conference. It's this one on the left. I'm halfway through it and I don't want to read it anymore. I've been halfway through it for 2 days now, I'm trying my best to finish it but I just can't do it. I guess my best wasn't good enough huhuhu. When I'm not enjoying a book, I usually try to get to the end of it, just so I can say, "There I'm done and I think it's crap, I know because I suffered this monstrosity to its last word". And sometimes good endings make it all worthwhile. I'll never know if I don't keep reading. But I simply just can't do it with this one. It's horrific. When I have this book open, I keep checking how much further I have left to read and I just, well there's just no bloody end to it. I see myself reading nothing else for weeks, and the thought fills me with dread and anguish. It's a parody (see it written on the bottom bit of the cover) of this book on the right. This is the one I really wanted to read especially because BLG explained why its title is what it is, but he couldn't find it. He thinks he lent it to someone who never returned it. Yay I feel so much better now that I've decided to give up on it. I didn't realize I was being oppressed by this shite book.

Elevator stories #1: Elevator action

Nono not the videogame, but now that I've mentioned it, wasn't that game amazing? Hehe I just came across a free download of it. I haven't decided if I want to risk installing it yet.

Anyway that reminds me of my minor mishap earlier this evening. I was coming back to work from my dinner break when I had a bit of a kerfuffle (hehe) stepping off the elevator and onto my floor. I had one foot on my floor and the other inside the elevator when I realized that I could no longer move forward. My right heel had unmistakably sunk into one of the little holes designing (badly, I have to say) the threshold. Not to worry though, I got out of that situation without shaming myself too much. Thankfully I was alone in the lift. Phew. Anyway I guess I retained an overdeveloped sense of respect for elevators from that scary incident when I was 10 (I got stuck between floors and had to force the elevator doors open before I could squeeze myself out), because I did not panic at all. That was surprising. Instead, I calmly placed my hand on one of the door sensors, pulled my right foot out of the stuck shoe, carefully placed two of my toes on either side of the heel base and made sure I had a firm grip before deftly dislodging the heel from the little hole. The guard had noticed my predicament and rushed over but I already managed to extricate my shoe and slip my foot back in it before he could get to me. I flashed him a smile and walked on, feeling triumphant.

That reminds me of this one very humiliating time, not too long ago, when my friends and I were on an escalator and my shoe got stuck at the bottom. I have this horrible habit of not stepping over the vicious teeth. The security guard had to stop the belt motor, steady me (I stood on one leg once we stopped moving), yank my shoe free AND hand it back to me. It was rather frightening. I imagined my foot getting chewed up while the belt fed the rest of my body in and then coming out at the other end all bloody and mangled. But the spectacle had gathered a small crowd of onlookers and I was too embarrassed to entertain such thoughts for too long. So I tried to laugh the whole matter off airily and continued walking in my damaged and misshapen shoe with as much dignity as I could muster.

Expired license

Well. My driver's license has been expired for 2 years now. I went back to the LTO (land transportation office) this morning. Some nice lady explained everything slowly. Apparently I have to go through the process as if applying for a license for the first time. It means the bribing fucker was right: I have to pay the fees, take the tests (both written and driving) and attend a seminar. Hmph. He's still a fucker for attempting to bribe me. But it would be so much easier if I just gave him the money. Huhuhuhu I'll need at least half a day to get all that done. Okay fine I will schedule that errand for next year.

I'm sorry I can't help it

HahahahahahahahaHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAhahahahahahahaha! Is that Big John?

Hahaha my turn!

I got it from the Stay Funny site.

A long August

I've been really cranky of late. People have been extra annoying and none of my errands have been simple and quick.

This week alone has me all stressed out. Travelling on a Filipino passport is so complicated. Bastards, if the objective is to discourage people from leaving the country...IT'S WORKING. I'm too exhausted to muster even a tingle of excitement. And I LOVE going on trips. I really hope the worst is over for this stupid visa application, but the way things have been going for me lately, I wouldn't be surprised if more problems arise.

But there are things here that make you realize why people subject themselves to these stringent and sometimes humiliating procedures, only to become second class citizens elsewhere. We're trying to get away from each other.

I tried to get my license renewed earlier this week. I had all the documents with me, but the guy at the counter informed me that I needed to apply for a new license and ignored me when I asked why. The new license involved going to seminars, taking tests and attending lectures. Without batting an eyelash, he then said that he could sort everything out himself, save me a bit of time, and all I needed to do was pay him the fees. Which amounted to nearly 4 times the renewal fee. Sounded downright dodgy to me. The fucker was trying to bribe me and it was tempting. Hand him the cash, get my license. Sounds like a good idea. Quick and painless and I'd be free to run my other errands. No sweat. Sure, loads of people do it. Anything goes in Manila, that's what makes it so exciting. That and the unsafe wiring, but I'll save that for another entry.

I left. I'll just have to find someone who will do things properly and process me a license renewal, what I actually need.

The thing is, I like to complain about how corrupt government institutions can be sometimes, how corrupt some politicians are and how corrupt some cops are. But if I had agreed to do things that fucker's way, that would have made me corrupt as well. And after having done that, continuing to speak against the wrongs in Philippine society will just make me what a lot of people these days are: a hypocrite.

Stop cutting corners assholes! No wonder it's so hard to get into other countries. People don't want us contaminating them with our indecent ways. Be selfish cunts if you must, but please leave the rest of us out of it, because you're dragging us down with your baseness!

Huhu chrismiss is not merry. This is going to be a full blown rant if I don't end this post now. I know what I need, I need a nap. Because naps are gooooood.

Waywards

The britbrats are coming back to Manila tomorrow. It's been three weeks since they took the ferry to Palawan. I think. Well something like that. Anyway, they're coming back from Bohol now. I suppose they're ferrying back since they were already very poor when they set off in the first place. While they were away, I texted them every couple of days just to check on them, so I knew that they were still alive and hadn't drowned or had anything untoward happen to them, like get eaten or rammed in the head by bamboo floaters of fishing boats. I'm pretty much their caretaker here and while I don't want to be overprotective, I feel somewhat responsible for their well-being while they're here. For some reason, Char knows when I'm particularly apprehensive about certain decisions they make and subtly takes the piss every so often. To be fair, we're kind of fun-mean to each other, I think that's why we get along so well. It's a bit wrong, but we both enjoy ourselves too much when I pretend to be her maid when we're going around malls and other crowded places. Hehe it's fun, especially when she pretends to scold me and I walked behind her apologizing in broken English. You should see the scandalized looks people give us! Evil white girl mistreating her brown slave. PRICELESS!

So anyway, she texted me early this morning. Messages in Tagalog.

Babalik ako sa manila bukas! May sa bohol ako. Tatawag ako. Sige.
(I'm returning to Manila tomorrow! There is in Bohol me. I will ring. Okay.)

Not bad, actually, I replied to her first message saying I was suitably impressed. But she doesn't mention Oli so I inquired about him. My heart skipped a beat when I read this second one, but I've since recovered and think I find it funny now.

O, namatay ho yata siya malapit dito, pagsisisid :( huwag ko malaman. Huwag kang balisa naiintindihan ko ho. hah.
(Yea, he died near here, diving :( don't me to know. Don't be ??? I understand. Hah.)

I really hope I see Oli alive and in one piece tomorrow.

Oh and does anyone know what balisa means? Is it 'troubled'?

Morans

HahahahahaahahahaHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAhahahahahahahahahahaha