Gucci Stardust

Vivaglam enough for you? 

Looks like Lumpini 

What's Up, Ketchup? 

Bootprints in the Sand

#48: These Boots are Made for Walking

I'm wearing red today. Red just felt right for this particular Friday. I went to sign my contract this morning and was practically floating when I left the building and headed to my office - yes, the dilapidated one I've struggled for 2 years to swallow and accept. The long wait was finally over. All our belongings were ready to be hauled off by the movers to our new office. My new office has a fantastic view of the Ayala Triangle. I had a hand in all the details - the design, the carpets, the joineries, the upholstery, the walls... The mural in the lobby bears a photo I shot in London. And skies. And well-being. The floor just had to be engineered light wood. The cafe chairs in the pantry just had to be indigo. Not gray or black. Indigo. And I had one of the best rooms.

I will be spending the next 30 days in this wonderful office. Less than 30 days if you take out the weekends. I'm tendering my resignation on the 30th of November. By the 1st of January, I'll be gone. I will have enjoyed the new headquarters for less than 4% of the time I've agonized over the sorry state of our old office but I guess, that time will have been enough.

My marks are already all over Boots. All over the place. All over my brand. Down the line, what I've contributed may be forgotten, but they can never be denied. I'm done here. I'm off to another company to make more.

Tagaytay Getaway

5:00pm. Breakfast Busog Look. 

The guitar that produces nothing but disastrous music (inspite of the owner's brilliant talent. Eherm.); and the dilapidated book with 1001 songs. 

Say what??? 

Deff Jam

#47: Deaf-defying Driving

And so three of my girlfriends and I were driving to Tagaytay this morning. (Correction: I was driving. They were making a mess inside the car with all the Jamaican beef pie crumbs.)

From the back, Elna goes, "So, did you know that Lee's mom...bah blah blah... has...blah... grant?" (Or at least that's how this Deaf Girl heard it.)
Me : Really? That's great! Good for her. Grant for what?
Elna: (Huh?) Uhm... to go to the U.S....
Me : Huh? (confused look while driving.)
Elna: (Confused look while eating pie and making a mess. In her head, she's asking, "what the heck does this girl want?")
Me : I mean, what type of grant? Scholarship grant? Research grant?
Elna: ... I-MMI-Grant?
And the two other people in the car died laughing.

All Elna said in the beginning was, "So, did you know that Lee's mom is already an Immigrant?" What a mess.

I need to see my ear doctor.
...Who will then tell me to stay away from potato chips. In which case, I don't need to see her after all. I just need to start listening to her.

Pass me the Pringles please.

Road Trip!

#46: Monday Mini Trip To Tagaytay

Another holiday. I don't know what it is with November. It seems like there's a holiday every other week. Not that I'm complaining. It's just hard to think of getaways when they're always just a day at a time. Why can't we all have those 2-month summer breaks or those 1-month sem breaks? That should be cool for a trip to Shanghai or something.

Anyway, I'm going to Tagaytay tomorrow with some friends. There's nothing much to see in Tagaytay really. But it's just 40 minutes away and can already be considered "outside of the city limits" so it pretty much meets the minimum requirements for a "getaway." All we need is a bit of "silly factor" and we're all set.

One volunteered to bring fish crackers and Cheez Curls. I'm bringing a guitar and a book containing 1001 songs (50% of which, I don't know; 75% are songs I can't play). We'll either have lunch at this nice place called Ville Sommet (if the owner finally decides to actually open it to customers instead of being content with merely advertising a closed resto to the world) or at some cheeseball beef brisket soup house (which Tagaytay is famous for). Afterwards, coffee at the ubiquitous Starbucks (there's no escaping Starbucks, really. Blame Howard Schultz.) We'll probably hang out at the People's Park (where a lot of weirdos run around with kites or pineapples or skinny horses) or at some nice secluded garden owned by some skinny pineapple-growing horse-riding weirdo. I don't know.

I know though that we'll head home with loads of stories in my trunk - some about what we've done in the past how many years, months, weeks we haven't seen each other; some about what we plan to do in the next weeks, months, years of our lives. There will be a couple about victories. And then some about heartbreaks. Then a lot of pictures we'll dig up and laugh at years and years down the road.

And there will be one song we'll take home at the end of the day. About what, I still don't know. I'm still waiting to see what kind of inspiration a bag of fish crackers will give a car full of nuts.

Bangkok Bits

Posing with the Regional Bosses. 

Karaoke in Bangkok with a Chinese Malaysian colleague. 

Credit Limits

#45: I Owe Me a Massage

I got home at 10p.m. today. From the office, I headed straight to the spa for a heavy-duty massage. Why? Because I woke up this morning feeling all over my body my punishment for bullying the little Korean kid yesterday. I could barely move. (And that didn't help the fact that it was 9 a.m. and I just opened my eyelids when I should already be at work opening my emails.)

The masseuse had very silky hands. I loved that she used oil that was more syrupy than greasy. She was very skilled and the pressure she exerted was just right for my bump-car-beaten body. I was loving every minute of it... until she went on to work on my back. At that point, I knew I had more to pay for my act of terrorism. Excruciating is the only word that comes to mind. I wanted to cry. She said my muscles were all in tight knots. She had to untangle them. Mangle was what I thought she was doing. She proceeded to kneel on my sore back. I braced myself for paralysis.

She asked me when I last had a massage. It had been a month. And this wasn't good given that before I left for Europe, I had my regular massage every Sunday. "Not good," she said. She asked me to come back next week so that she can break down all the twisted knots of muscle further. Break into what, I wondered. Into amino acids?

I left the place feeling refreshed. I should have done this sooner. I looked back at the days and weeks I spent crumpled in buses and planes and realized that this wasn't just because of our EK day. I had already owed my body a lot in terms of relaxation and pampering. I had reached my credit limit. I should have gone for a Thai Massage when I was in Bangkok. I instead chose to go shopping. (There goes another credit limit.)

Kids' Day Out

Best way to end the day. (EK, Nov 2004) 

Deflated Aeroballs (EK, Nov 2004) 

An Apple Taffy Spoon (EK, Nov 2004) 

This is how wet is spelled. (EK, Nov 2004) 

Care to join the Brady Bunch? (EK, Nov 2004) 

A big map of the small amusement park. (EK Nov 2004) 

Amuse Me

#44: Enchanted Long Weekend

We were supposed to hit the beach at Galera for the long weekend but schedules wouldn't permit it. We all know that if you plan on going to Puerto Galera after lunch, you might as well put your last will and testament in order. Since I had to teach until 5pm Sunday, there was definitely no way Galera was happening this time.

And so Enchanted Kingdom it was. My friend's dad called her to ask where she was: She happily said "Enchanted Kingdom!"
"Wha-? What are you doing there?! That place is for kids!"

But that's the thing. All four of us are kids at heart.

Last night, we went to the country club for a swim and guess where we hung out the longest? At the kiddie pool which was 3ft deep. Why? Because it had nice fountains/squirting things and lights all around. (Afterwards we went to the sauna and did time at the jacuzzi to appear a bit more adult.)

This morning, when we got to EK, the peeling paint and the deserted air of the place didn't give much prospect for fun. The place had not been properly maintained, several food stalls had closed down, and amusement park employees seemed less than amused. We were however determined to make it a fun day and so a fun day it became. (As we always say, "The party's over here.")

We got there at 11am. The heat was severe and could cook you into lunch within a couple of minutes. We decided to go to this simulation theater for practical reasons: it had air-conditioning. The feature was something geekily called, "Smashdown?" and it involved being driven around by some psychotic guy. The "driver" talked too much and we had our heads banged around way too often. We cooled down alright but I think all the smashing and banging left too many brain bits scattered all around our seats.

Next stop was the roller coaster. What's a visit to an amusement park without hitting the roller coaster? I gamely jumped in and quickly regretted it as soon as we hit the first dip at 1000kph. (Well, it sure felt like it. I thought we actually broke through the sound barrier.) But you see, that's what I love about roller coasters. First the thrill, then the regret, then the excitement of recounting the experience. I love roller coasters.

Then we rode bump boats and bump cars and every possible thing we could control and use to terrorize innocent victims. An easy target was this little Korean boy. We were 15-20 years older than this poor kid but that wasn't the point. He was prey and we were having fun. (Haha. Okay, that sounded mean. Would it help if I told you he loved us and asked us to adopt him afterwards?)

Then came the water rides. The whole point of water rides is to get you soaked. If you don't end up wet after one, then there is major failure somewhere - failure that can easily be corrected by going to the restroom and diving into the toilet.

Of course, the most logical thing to hit after a water ride is a "drying" ride. That's what huge swings are for. And that is why they are situated opposite the Rio Grande Rapids ride. They didn't get us dry enough but at least we were no longer dripping after it.

Then we went to this 4D theater. (Take note that the airconditioning here was superb and we were all superbly wet so that could only spell pneumonia. We'll see who ends up sick tomorrow.) Anyway, three of us have seen this feature, "Escape from Bane Manor." Only one of us had the right to actually be surprised at the sudden sprays of water or the bursts of cold air on our faces synched with the 3D horror flick. But my friend Cathy strangely went through the whole thing again as if it was her first time. She kept on jumping up her seat that I was tempted to hit her with my elbow and remind her that this was all just make-believe and that she had already seen this exact thing before. (I guess I must say, "Well done, Cathy. Not only did you escape Bane Manor alive, you also got the full worth of your Php40.00 all over again.")

For our finale, we did Aeroball - this weird claustrophobic version of Slamball. The trampolines were fun. More so if you don't have a shattered knee (like Cathy does), or a severe aversion to exercise (like Justine does) or spontaneous cases of migraine (like I do). Oh and Vier? He was the reason I got the migraine. (He was clobbering me in the game and you know I hate losing. :) Seems like that headache wasn't so spontaneous after all. Hah.)

Well, this has gotten long and I think only 4 of us will actually enjoy reading this. (Not that anyone would complain given that most are lazy to leave comments. Mohoho.)

Let me just wrap this up by giving you a couple of new terms to chew on:

1. Lampas-Gutom - Nalipasan ng gutom... na hampas-lupa.
Ex. "It's 9pm already and we haven't had dinner. Lampas-gutom na ako!"

2. Large Fries/Large Frize - What you get when you shoot three consecutive balls.
Ex. "If you sink 2 consecutive balls, you get a medium-sized prize. But if you shoot 3 consecutive balls, you get large fries."

3. Spoon - plastic utensil they give you when you order apple taffy. It surprisingly looks too much like a fork.
Ex. "Always use your spoon to get a slice of apple from Justine."

----------------

Additional note:
Free tickets only work if they exist.
Mohohoho.

Dive In!

#43: Or Don't

I was talking to a friend last night and he was insisting that I go diving with white sharks in Australia. Now I really don't know if he's trying to erase me from the face of the earth or what but I must say, he was pretty convincing. If I weren't the stubborn person that I am, I'd probably be shopping for scuba gear right now and prepping myself to learn shark language to properly communicate with them. "Kind sir, please don't chew my leg." (Come on. If you've read "Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy," you'd know the value of communicating with sea creatures, especially dolphins. But I digress.)

As I was saying, it will take more than good arguments to send me diving. I, for one, do not know how to swim. I dread the prospect of drowning or dying underwater due to some equipment malfunction. (Now, I don't dread dying. I just don't like having that happen to me in the deep blue sea.) It'll be like sending someone who can't speak to bargain for her life on the phone.

Another, I don't fancy fishes. Big ones, small ones, colorful ones... most of them, if not all, belong to either the National Geographic Channel or on nice plates with sauce. Well, at least that's what I think. I don't need to see them up close and personal unless they're behind engineered glass swimming around as the walkalator takes me to the other end of the park where the souvenir shops are.

There was this one time that I made a fantastic turn on the jetski and this fish flipped out of the water and onto the "floor" of the jetski. I freaked out so much I, brace yourself, jumped into the sea to avoid it. Brilliant, huh?

A former officemate of mine dared me to go diving with him and just as I was about agree, he told me that he actually planned on putting bread on my head 100 feet underwater so that fishes would attack me and end my life. And that effectively snuffed out whatever tiny desire I had to dive.

To drive the stake deeper into the heart of this concept, here's what I think about wetsuits and rental scuba equipment: They are rich repositories of fungus and other microbes known (and unknown) to mankind. Really. Next time they make you put that air regulator thingie-whatever in your mouth, think of the last person who had it in his. Then think of all the cavities that person has. Yum. Then as you wear the wetsuit, ask yourself if you really believe that those things EVER completely dry out. Think of molds growing on your skin. Think of how happy your dermatologist will be to see you after your trip. You will be promptly donated to science and you will be her sure ticket to fame. Yeah baby!

So there. This may just be ignorance speaking at this point but until there is an extremely compelling reason for me to dive with white sharks circling my underwater cage, I will refuse to take any part in such an exercise. In the meantime, I'll just be concentrating on learning dolphin-speak for "So long and no thanks for all the fish!"