Thursday, August 27, 2015
pocket thoughts : a fri-ex-nd and dogs
He has been going about wanting a dog for quite some time now - simply because, he wanted to have one. Then, maybe, he wanted to make his decision more plausible and reasonable, he added with this thought : "I am responsible, but a dog will make me even more responsible." Wait, what? My brain had to suppress a laugh right there. I never knew the dictionary defined responsibility as being associated with the canine clan. Or maybe I am just taking things too literally and that, this friend of mine, is partially retarded. So yeah.
Friday, August 21, 2015
pocket thoughts - Bogart's B's
Lately, I have been ogling three B's I would so love to visit - Batanes, Bali and Bangkok. Ooohhh.. the things I would do once I step on these magnificent islands. I can just bum all day, everyday!
Friday, June 5, 2015
Laugh it off!
There are days when life throws you a mighty great deal of curveballs. You would hope that these were made of white, puffy, cold slurve of balls that once it hits water, melts. But no. It annoys, iritates, and if it still hasn't pushed that many buttons in you, can be very maddening. Oh well. The many perks of being a human.
On the flip side of things, not all curveballs must be dealt with pessimism. Take for example my breasts. Yeap. You've read that right - "man" kind's fetish; the branding Victoria Secret models advertise; the perky lumps Fergie was telling us about while listening to "My Humps" back in the day. Breasts. Boobies. Tities - however, you want to call them. And for a 12 year old with some pretty valid self-esteem issues, it just didn't mesh well with me. You see, I found it hard to be comfortable with my body knowing that come summer time, I won't be able to get away with a 2 piece bikini swimwear without people noticing my not so endowed chest. Kimonos did not exist back in the day nor was I informed about maximizer bras to enhance what little assests I had. So what I would wear at the beach would be these :
- shorts
- oversized tshirt
- regular bras
It was horrible. Not only was I uncomfortable, I was unknowingly destroying the fabric of my essentials. For one, wearing shorts to the beach and having them wet tends to corrode the zipper - making it harder to zip them once it dries. Two, soaking an oversized shirt at the beach can weigh you down while walking around after getting the dip. You have to wring the sides of your shirt, thus, damaging it even more. Lastly, regular bras + salt water is never a good mix. You are damaging the sensitive composition of your brassiere giving it the "bacon strappy" look after drying it. These 3 essentials must not ever, EVER, be worn while getting soaked at the beach.
Overtime, I grew more conscious of the clothes I should wear and I lived vicariously through the pages of the magazines thinking I will never get to have the exhilirating feel of being comfortable in my own skin. But thank God I got off the cycle. As I grew older, I met different people who later on became my inspirations to challenge myself and outgrow the entire phase. I started purchasing bikinis, I was getting comfortable wearing bras with baby tees (Thank God and lingerie companies for maximizer bras), and I was enjoying being a flatty. How did I manage to outgrow that? Well, I used the assets that I had and leveraged on them to amp up my confidence. I am tall, fair-skinned, I have a well-shaped butt, I have manageable muffin tops and I am smart enough to know that I may not be the prettiest, coolest nor the best - well, who's competing with who actually? And I just don't care.
Now I am able to work with what I have. I know my body well enough that in a hindsight, I can judge whether those pair of bikinis will fit me well even when I am just scanning pictures online. And on days when I just don't feel like being on top of the world, I know how to rock the bum look without looking like a trailer trash.
I hope kids these days would embrace INDIVIDUALITY more. I hope they will be smart enough to understand that FITTING IN, IS ALL CRAP. And STANDING OUT should never scare the bejesus out of them. And to understand that it's okay to be DIFFERENT. Because being different does not mean being and outsider. It just shows that you have something else to offer to the world. A refreshing idea, a brand new take on fashion, an innovative ingeniuty that can either make or break the future. So, if you're in a crossroad of not knowing how to be okay with who and what you are, laugh it off. Trust me. Come tomorrow, you will just think it was all silly worrying like hell about it. :)
On the flip side of things, not all curveballs must be dealt with pessimism. Take for example my breasts. Yeap. You've read that right - "man" kind's fetish; the branding Victoria Secret models advertise; the perky lumps Fergie was telling us about while listening to "My Humps" back in the day. Breasts. Boobies. Tities - however, you want to call them. And for a 12 year old with some pretty valid self-esteem issues, it just didn't mesh well with me. You see, I found it hard to be comfortable with my body knowing that come summer time, I won't be able to get away with a 2 piece bikini swimwear without people noticing my not so endowed chest. Kimonos did not exist back in the day nor was I informed about maximizer bras to enhance what little assests I had. So what I would wear at the beach would be these :
- shorts
- oversized tshirt
- regular bras
It was horrible. Not only was I uncomfortable, I was unknowingly destroying the fabric of my essentials. For one, wearing shorts to the beach and having them wet tends to corrode the zipper - making it harder to zip them once it dries. Two, soaking an oversized shirt at the beach can weigh you down while walking around after getting the dip. You have to wring the sides of your shirt, thus, damaging it even more. Lastly, regular bras + salt water is never a good mix. You are damaging the sensitive composition of your brassiere giving it the "bacon strappy" look after drying it. These 3 essentials must not ever, EVER, be worn while getting soaked at the beach.
Overtime, I grew more conscious of the clothes I should wear and I lived vicariously through the pages of the magazines thinking I will never get to have the exhilirating feel of being comfortable in my own skin. But thank God I got off the cycle. As I grew older, I met different people who later on became my inspirations to challenge myself and outgrow the entire phase. I started purchasing bikinis, I was getting comfortable wearing bras with baby tees (Thank God and lingerie companies for maximizer bras), and I was enjoying being a flatty. How did I manage to outgrow that? Well, I used the assets that I had and leveraged on them to amp up my confidence. I am tall, fair-skinned, I have a well-shaped butt, I have manageable muffin tops and I am smart enough to know that I may not be the prettiest, coolest nor the best - well, who's competing with who actually? And I just don't care.
Now I am able to work with what I have. I know my body well enough that in a hindsight, I can judge whether those pair of bikinis will fit me well even when I am just scanning pictures online. And on days when I just don't feel like being on top of the world, I know how to rock the bum look without looking like a trailer trash.
I hope kids these days would embrace INDIVIDUALITY more. I hope they will be smart enough to understand that FITTING IN, IS ALL CRAP. And STANDING OUT should never scare the bejesus out of them. And to understand that it's okay to be DIFFERENT. Because being different does not mean being and outsider. It just shows that you have something else to offer to the world. A refreshing idea, a brand new take on fashion, an innovative ingeniuty that can either make or break the future. So, if you're in a crossroad of not knowing how to be okay with who and what you are, laugh it off. Trust me. Come tomorrow, you will just think it was all silly worrying like hell about it. :)
Thursday, May 7, 2015
On the Menu : NEW ORLEANS
New discoveries are best shared when you're out with the people you call home. Me and my bestfriend Jing took a Sunday night out with no major plans in mind. Come grub time we decided to get ourselves some baby back ribs from Casa Verde. But as per usual, the place was crowded and already had 13 groups on the waiting list - putting us next to never in getting our dinner on time. So, we checked out Ayala's attic (I honestly have no idea what that floor's called. I just kind of liked the "attic's" ring to it.)
Anyway, we chose this cool place beside the Seafood Grill restaurant 'cause it kind of looked new. It was a little quaint and unassuming for a restaurant in that area. And yes! Their menu had pictures of what our eyes can only describe as mouthwatering dishes of steaks. Meat. Hard core meat.
We were ushered by very friendly waiters who made sure we had a table and chairs despite the almost crowded restaurant. As we were deciding which dishes to try out, I took a couple of mental notes with the place's interiors. They had a semi stage with a lady singer and a pianist, playing mostly jazz. The walls were decorated with festive masks and blings to give the interiors the jazzy vibe - typical of New Orleans. The staff were dressed with a plain white shirt and some denim bottoms. Nothing flashy, but functional. And the place can house, more or less, 10 tables.
Now, as Jing and I settled on our orders (which was made extra harder to make considering the fact that we were both surprisingly hungry and every single food on the menu, plus the pictures, were just pure heavenly, that you wouldn't think twice of wolfing them down in a snap), the waiter promised us a 15-minute service time. Guess what? He came back with our orders in 10 - with full on plating and all. How did they manage to do that and not spoil the food's glorious taste and texture was beyond me. But hey! I am not complaining. Look at what we had for that night :
Word to the wise: If you're a water person like myself, and is cutting down on soda and alcohol intake, drown your meat and salmon with New Orleans' cold lemonade. I swear it tasted like it was concocted straight from your very own kitchen. Plus, it was worth 105 php and you get yourself a bottomless treat! And speaking of prices, theirs is very competitive. Here's a run down with our bill that night:
Chop chop Ranch Salad (half) - 180 php
I am no food critic. I eat, basically, any meal as long as it isn't stale nor puke-inducing. But given that I have already spent 20 minutes blogging my New Orleans' food experience, I'd say it was a 4 out of 5. The only miss were the interiors. They could've done something better to spruce up the place and probably rearrange the inner section of the area to make it more cohesive with the whole jazzy vibe. But for somebody who rarely experiments with restos but adores food nonetheless, I would definitely recommend it for you guys to try out. We were sated and extremely full and I would'nt mind going back there to get a taste of their other meals. Perhaps, some rib eye steak, eh?
Anyway, we chose this cool place beside the Seafood Grill restaurant 'cause it kind of looked new. It was a little quaint and unassuming for a restaurant in that area. And yes! Their menu had pictures of what our eyes can only describe as mouthwatering dishes of steaks. Meat. Hard core meat.
We were ushered by very friendly waiters who made sure we had a table and chairs despite the almost crowded restaurant. As we were deciding which dishes to try out, I took a couple of mental notes with the place's interiors. They had a semi stage with a lady singer and a pianist, playing mostly jazz. The walls were decorated with festive masks and blings to give the interiors the jazzy vibe - typical of New Orleans. The staff were dressed with a plain white shirt and some denim bottoms. Nothing flashy, but functional. And the place can house, more or less, 10 tables.
Now, as Jing and I settled on our orders (which was made extra harder to make considering the fact that we were both surprisingly hungry and every single food on the menu, plus the pictures, were just pure heavenly, that you wouldn't think twice of wolfing them down in a snap), the waiter promised us a 15-minute service time. Guess what? He came back with our orders in 10 - with full on plating and all. How did they manage to do that and not spoil the food's glorious taste and texture was beyond me. But hey! I am not complaining. Look at what we had for that night :
 |
| Salmon Ponchartrain |
 |
| Chop Chop Ranch Salad |
 |
| Famous Baby Back Ribs |
 |
| Cold Lemonade |
Famous Baby Back Ribs (half) - 549 php
Salmon Ponchartrain - 420 php
Bottomless Lemonade - 105 php
I am no food critic. I eat, basically, any meal as long as it isn't stale nor puke-inducing. But given that I have already spent 20 minutes blogging my New Orleans' food experience, I'd say it was a 4 out of 5. The only miss were the interiors. They could've done something better to spruce up the place and probably rearrange the inner section of the area to make it more cohesive with the whole jazzy vibe. But for somebody who rarely experiments with restos but adores food nonetheless, I would definitely recommend it for you guys to try out. We were sated and extremely full and I would'nt mind going back there to get a taste of their other meals. Perhaps, some rib eye steak, eh?
Wednesday, April 15, 2015
everything retro
Okay. So if retro's all you've been ravin', lookin', breathin', wantin', then, you definitely have to check this one out.
(I am not coding the link in under a "here" or "this" word/s so anyone, including yours truly, gets to see this on print, and gawk on the amazing featured wallpapers - all in retro, or has been retrofied, if there's such a word.)
Enjoy your retro-day!
Tuesday, April 14, 2015
What To Read : Secret To Happiness
If you have been reading my recent posts via Facebook, you would notice that I have been quoting lines from books that I've read (or still reading) at the time. So, here's another roster of conversations from Sarah Dunn's Secret To Happiness novel, which, I think, will either crack you up or make you want to buttery-melt sigh with the simplicity of it. Read on..
Mark's face was red and the veins on his neck were popping out. "Why - do - you - do - this - to - me?"
[from page 227]
"I've been watching everybody as they parade in and out, the bankers and the anorexics and their grim determined faces, and thinking, this is not the way to live a life."
"What do you mean?" asked Betsy.
"Here's the problem with this city. There are too many people living in one place, and all of them are suffereing from excessive ego demands," said Lonnie. "The truth is, I want pretty simple things."
"Like what?"
"Like a grill," he said. "I'd like to have a backyard, and a grill, and a wife who loves me. Hopefully a couple of kids. And I'd like to live some place that fits me more, someplace a little more relaxed, maybe warmer, with things like bike paths and Little League games. think I could get into riding a bike."
"What do you want to do? Workwise, I mean."
"I'm not sure it matters all that much to me, actually," said Lonnie. "I'll probably teach. I like it, and I'm good at it, so why not?"
"Right."
"I would like to clear one thing up," said Lonnie.
"What's that?"
"You probably think I've been asking you out because you're thin and pretty and all that, but that's not it."
"Why, then?"
"Because you seem like a nice person. A little, I don't know, maybe sad around the edges sometimes, but I can work with that. I've been sad before. I know what tha's like."
Lonnie locked eyes with Betsy. She held his gaze for a moment and then looked away, down at her hands, which looked small and pale against the dark smooth wood of the table.
"Even when you said no to me, you were always extremely nice about it. And so, I thought, you know, why not? Why not keep trying? What do I have to lose?"
"I'm talking too much," he said. "What about you, Miss Betsy Silverstein? Why in the world are you still single?"
[from page 153]
Chester (the dog) was lying on the couch staring blankly at the television, which was turned on but with the sound muted. His head was wrapped in gauze, and his legs were sticking out stiffly over the edge of the cushions in a way that suggested a cartoonish case of rigor mortis. Jacob (the 6 month old baby) took one look at him and burst into tears.
"My god, Holly, what's wrong with your dog?"
"He has brain cancer," said Holly. "I told you that."
"Yeah, but I didn't think it'd be so obvious."
[from page 222]
Mark went to open the jar of salsa but nothing seemed to happen. Then he really tried to open it, although he acted like he wasn't really trying. Still nothing. He tapped it on the edge of the coffee table a few times with a practiced air and went at it again.
"I don't need salsa," said Holly hopefully.
"Do we have a towel or something?" asked Mark.
Amanda handed him a blue and white striped dishrag she'd bought in from the kitche, seemingly for just this eventuality. Mark put the towel over the lid and braced the jar between his thighs. He doubled over and let out the kind of grunt one associates with powelifters in the Olympic games.
"I don't even really like salsa," said Holly.
Mark's face was red and the veins on his neck were popping out. "Why - do - you - do - this - to - me?"
[from page 227]
"I've been watching everybody as they parade in and out, the bankers and the anorexics and their grim determined faces, and thinking, this is not the way to live a life."
"What do you mean?" asked Betsy.
"Here's the problem with this city. There are too many people living in one place, and all of them are suffereing from excessive ego demands," said Lonnie. "The truth is, I want pretty simple things."
"Like what?"
"Like a grill," he said. "I'd like to have a backyard, and a grill, and a wife who loves me. Hopefully a couple of kids. And I'd like to live some place that fits me more, someplace a little more relaxed, maybe warmer, with things like bike paths and Little League games. think I could get into riding a bike."
"What do you want to do? Workwise, I mean."
"I'm not sure it matters all that much to me, actually," said Lonnie. "I'll probably teach. I like it, and I'm good at it, so why not?"
"Right."
"I would like to clear one thing up," said Lonnie.
"What's that?"
"You probably think I've been asking you out because you're thin and pretty and all that, but that's not it."
"Why, then?"
"Because you seem like a nice person. A little, I don't know, maybe sad around the edges sometimes, but I can work with that. I've been sad before. I know what tha's like."
Lonnie locked eyes with Betsy. She held his gaze for a moment and then looked away, down at her hands, which looked small and pale against the dark smooth wood of the table.
"Even when you said no to me, you were always extremely nice about it. And so, I thought, you know, why not? Why not keep trying? What do I have to lose?"
"I'm talking too much," he said. "What about you, Miss Betsy Silverstein? Why in the world are you still single?"
Monday, April 13, 2015
He Could Be...
To Ken :
I may not get the chance nor the courage to ever tell you just how beautiful you are; nor how you made my breath hitch, (literally!)the first time I saw you;
nor how I've always looked forward to every coffee break or lunch time, with the hopes that I might bump into you and how everytime that happens, everytime I see you walk inside the 4-walled corners of the cafeteria, time just seemed to miraculously move in a slow-fast-slow motion - which was very confusing but exciting at the same time.
I may sound like a love-struck teenager right now with all the "ooh's" and "aah's" a girl could ever associate this whole situation with, but just to get the message across (virtually, that is), you were the closest thing my 28 year old senses can compare to who and what a man candy should be.
So, here's a little something for you - made this whole thing up the very first time I saw you in training.
"He sat at the far corner of the table, with his head bent down, and hands clasped together as if in prayer. I noticed a sheet of paper, scribbled with words which I presumed were inconsequential. He wore a shirt that of gray and a pair of the usual, manly jeans which I thought were, "Baggy, typical."
As I was about to let my eyes wander onto the girl beside him, he gazed up. And looked directly my way. "Oh my God!" my mind thought. "What incredible eyes he had. Both expressive and tantalizing and... sexy as hell." I was stunned. I could not look away. He held me, right there, with just a stare. And as if he heard my rather not too innocent thoughts, he smiled. Dear God, he smiled. Why does he have to smile? And blush at the same time? Wait. Shouldn't I be the one blushing? For crying out loud, I am gawking at this man right now and he blushed?! As if being beautiful with the face of what my human mind can only compare to as being "angelic", he had to top it all off with that incredible, buttery, sigh-inducing smile? This is too much for the senses. A meltdown, I'm sure. As if on cue, the trainer adviced the class to take a break. I did. I got up and hastily went out to the ladies room."Breathe. Just breathe," I said to myself.
I may not get the chance nor the courage to ever tell you just how beautiful you are; nor how you made my breath hitch, (literally!)the first time I saw you;
nor how I've always looked forward to every coffee break or lunch time, with the hopes that I might bump into you and how everytime that happens, everytime I see you walk inside the 4-walled corners of the cafeteria, time just seemed to miraculously move in a slow-fast-slow motion - which was very confusing but exciting at the same time.
I may sound like a love-struck teenager right now with all the "ooh's" and "aah's" a girl could ever associate this whole situation with, but just to get the message across (virtually, that is), you were the closest thing my 28 year old senses can compare to who and what a man candy should be.
So, here's a little something for you - made this whole thing up the very first time I saw you in training.
"He sat at the far corner of the table, with his head bent down, and hands clasped together as if in prayer. I noticed a sheet of paper, scribbled with words which I presumed were inconsequential. He wore a shirt that of gray and a pair of the usual, manly jeans which I thought were, "Baggy, typical."
As I was about to let my eyes wander onto the girl beside him, he gazed up. And looked directly my way. "Oh my God!" my mind thought. "What incredible eyes he had. Both expressive and tantalizing and... sexy as hell." I was stunned. I could not look away. He held me, right there, with just a stare. And as if he heard my rather not too innocent thoughts, he smiled. Dear God, he smiled. Why does he have to smile? And blush at the same time? Wait. Shouldn't I be the one blushing? For crying out loud, I am gawking at this man right now and he blushed?! As if being beautiful with the face of what my human mind can only compare to as being "angelic", he had to top it all off with that incredible, buttery, sigh-inducing smile? This is too much for the senses. A meltdown, I'm sure. As if on cue, the trainer adviced the class to take a break. I did. I got up and hastily went out to the ladies room."Breathe. Just breathe," I said to myself.
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