How I Divide My Time

My Would-Be Tattoo

Too Freaking Early

Early this evening, I was waiting for my turn in the bank. Paige sat next to me and started writing in a piece of paper. Curious, I took a peek and saw her writing her name and her crush's name, Zach and Paige.

Again, I couldn't just freak out in front of her, so I didn't. But dear God, was I freaking out! Is that normal? I mean I read they have crushes at that age, but to actually doodle a crush's name?! Seriously, it's too early for the birds and the bees talk. So, how do we deal with this? 

The Husband Joined a Photo Contest

For almost a week, I had to grit my teeth and bear with the huge embarrassment my husband was heaping on me.

So, last week, I woke up early Monday morning and was greeted by my husband's huge grin and his, "I joined our photo in a contest ba!"  It took a second or so for the words "our photo" to register and then I panicked. You see, I hate photo contests. I hate having my photo bandied around anywhere. I hate the spotlight. I hate being stared at. I hate being the center of attention unless I am asking for it.

I have recently set my Twitter account settings to private and my Facebook status is not open to public or to all of my Facebook friends. I know I am not a big deal but I am not at all comfortable dumping my crap on just anyone.  People don't like my crap. I don't like sharing my crap to everyone.  I know it's ironic that I have this blog.  So, why blog, right? I do not invite people to read my crap on this blog. If you are reading this, that's because you choose to read my crap. So, I am not sorry about this at all. But it's not the same with Facebook and Twitter.  Needless to say, I went on a full-blown "What the Eff Have You Done?!" mode when I saw my picture being shared on Facebook. It wasn't even a picture I'd like to post on my account, so I hate the fact that people were sharing it.

If you are from Goa or the Partido area, you've probably come across the darn thing.  All throughout the week, I kept whining and sometimes snarling at Erbe over the whole thing. It was actually sweet that he chose to post our picture because apparently his love for me is his passion. But I am not just comfortable sharing this to the freaking public. I hate couples - even married ones - who would declare their freaking love for one another on social media. I hate that. Nobody really gives a shit, so if you're happy then be happy. We don't really need to know how much you love each other.  Needless to say, the picture didn't just sit well with me.

At one point, my husband posted it on the Naga City Facebook page - and I went on a full-on murder mode. I started screaming bloody murder.  I probably had him removed the link from a couple of pages and groups as well.

Anyway, he probably won the darn thing. He isn't sure yet, but he got the highest number of votes.  His HS classmates helped him out. I helped out at the last hour - yes, the very last hour.  I finally said, "Get over yourself (after a week of snide remarks)" and finally helped out.

So, here's the pic. You can probably see why I didn't want this getting around anywhere. I know I was a bitch. I am not just comfortable, so sue me.

Suits Opening Credit

I love the opening credits of this show.


God, I love this show.

That Summer

Burgundy?!

For the life of me, Mommy woke up this morning and decided to have fun with Nana Viol's hair. She convinced Nana Viol that she'd look fabulous with burgundy-colored hair. What she calls burgundy I call "god-awful red".

But my mother refused to listen. She's pretty devious. That's what she is. She wanted to see how the "burgundy" would look like before she uses the dye on her own hair.

I believe she found out that I was right. The dye job was pretty horrendous as you can see for yourself.

Chikungunya

Now, imagine this scattered all over your body from head to toe and then combined this with swollen lymph nodes. The pain and itch is incredible. My eyelids are heavy. I'm incredibly sleepy. I am in pain. I am itchy and sleepy. I am miserable. Damn it.

Wailin' and Teeth Gnashing

I hate this.

God, I hate being sick. I become needy, weepy, whiny and all-round major bitch.

I have all sorts of theories why I am sick, ranging from "my leg is infected inside and its festering beneath the skin" to "I think there was something wrong with the apple I ate earlier - yes, I know it was delicious but maybe there was some sort of virus in it."

I have also pondered on the possibility that I have dengue or maybe I haven't taken a bath yet and I smell like shit, so I am getting sick. This theory was blown to   kingdom come after I took a bath, popped a 500 mg paracetamol in my mouth and ended up staring at a thermometer which said, "Yeah, stupid. You're still sick."

I have also theorized that I need some bow-chika-wow-wow from the man who impregnated me twice, but that's too much info for you right, so I'll give you some time to swallow that little vomit you have in your mouth right now.

I am not thinking straight. I am sick, goddamnit. I don't get sick unless Death has decided to check up on me. He did that for the first 21 years of my life, that impotent son of a bitch. That's his MO when it comes to yours truly. And I think he plans to visit me every decade or so.

Oh well. I should stop this and resume whining and crying. 🔫

Deluge

This place never fails to bring forth a torrent of bittersweet memories. I spent 8  years of my life here. I built friendships here. I met some of the most amazingly unique people I know in this place - brilliant people who helped me discover things about myself that I didn't know. I became my own person here. I fell in love here - twice in fact! And 'tis here too that I had my heart broken.

It's the same, but not the same every time I step foot in this place.  I can almost imagined seeing myself and my friends clad in that white blouse, tight gray skirt and gray tie which for the life of me, I can never seem to fix just right.  Law years didn't create as much impact; although there were people who did.

The memories can be crushing sometimes that I find myself only too happy to step out of its gates. There's only enough memories I can handle.

Define Happiness

More Riley Moments

Me: Riley, hain ka?!?!

Riley: Yaon po ako digdi ki Lita (referring to her Lola Lita)

Riley singing: Ang lubot ni papa perpek. Ang lubot ni papa perpek.

Me: Ba, nadangug mong sabi??

Riley continued: Ang bulay na mabata! Ang bulay na mabata!

Me: Erbe!!!!! Sabi ko na kaya saimo dai ka magparasabing bulay!!!

Big Foot

I detest, despise, abhor and hate my feet. They're big and ugly, incredibly ugly. I bet they look like Big Foot's feet.  In fact, I think his feet look dainty compared to mine. Yes, dainty!

Big Foot will probably laugh his ass off if he'd see how dainty his feet look next to mine.  His feet will inspire odes and poems. Mine will inspire nightmares. I exaggerate but you get the drift, right?

Ignore the picture, you should see the sheer horror for yourself.