a bora christmas

Just got back from Boracay with the whole famille. We're all so tired from the trip but we're tanned and happy! I miss blogging, so I'm dropping by to write a few lines before I catch up on my sleep. Didn't want to ruin the vacation by sitting in front of the computer in Boracay so I wasn't able to blog for days. I just enjoyed the sea, the sand, the sun -- what else is there to do? Will resume my blogging when I'm already in the right frame of mind (er, but will that ever happen?...). In the meantime, here are some photos:

a wet but fab christmas in boracay


tanned and happy in bora


she's fearless! yes, she's floating in the middle of the ocean
and didn't want Dad to hold her.


who cares if i'm swimming? i want my milk!

zak is always cam ready while pling-pling looks peeved


sunning at bora with my best gal

santa's coming (well, at least for now) according to my friend maroo

I just wanted to share this with you. My long time friend Maroo Punsalan Quintero who's now based in California couldn't have explained it better. To you moms out there who need answers to the same question I had, here is Maroo's unedited 2 cent's worth on Santa:

"Oh, I feel you, Girl. Efrain & I just told Adrianna a couple of weeks ago. She was being teased mercilessly at school coz she was the only one who still believed in Santa. We wanted her to able to respond intelligently to ignorant children's taunts.This is what we did:

1. We asked her if she REALLY believed that the Santa in the red suit who lives in the North Pole was real. Her response was, "No. I know that's just the fairy tale TV version of Santa. But I belive that there's a REAL REAL Santa."

2. We supported her faith in a REAL REAL Santa by telling her that we believe in him too. YES, Santa is real, but not in the way that Mom & Dad are real. Santa is real in the way that angels are real. The way that we know there's a heaven & hell. He's not tangible but, YES, HE IS MOST DEFINITELY REAL! She's already familiar with the story of St. Nicholas so we just refreshed that for her. St. Nick is Santa. A real person who did a lot of good things for poor children. The tradition of parents secretly giving presents in Santa's name is to keep St. Nick's spirit of generosity alive. To honor him & to carry on his work os spreading joy. Santa is the spirit of GIVING. He's supposed to serve as a reminder that we should embrace the spirit of giving this holliday season.

3. Did we LIE about Santa? Lie is a strong word. Mom & Dad wanted you to experience MAGIC. The idea that some benevolent being chose to bestow gifts upon you brought you such exitement & joy & wonder. Magic & fantasy should be part of every child's life. Santa, Tooth Fairy, the Easter Bunny, that's how Mom & Dad brought magic & fantasy into your life.

4. We told her that telling other kids that Santa wasn't real would be the cruelest thing she could do. Those kids who teased her were cruel. They took away a certain amount of innocence from her. Santa is real. He's a real part of all of us who still believe in the goodness of humanity.

5. The day is called CHRISTmas for a reason. It is the day we celebrate the birth of Jesus. Santa is NOT Christmas. Although we should keep Santa's giving spirit with us all year.

I advise you to hold off on telling Zaki this year. Lay the foundation first. Cushion the blow, so to speak. Start talking to him about the real meaning of Christmas. Tell him about St. Nicholas. Tell him the fat dude in the red velvet suit is bogus. There's no elven sweat shop in the North Pole, but there is a REAL Santa. He's just not the way he's portrayed in stories and movies. And after you've laid the groundwork, tell him next Christmas. Tell him to be a good big brother & keep the magic alive for Ripley for a couple more years. You can start telling her about St. Nick now & also that the TV Santa isn't the real Santa, but I wouldn't tell the whole truth just yet. Let the little ones have their magic & fantasy. The real world will weasel its way in far too soon anyway. The longer we can insulate them & keep them carefree & innocent, the better."

Well, said Maroo. Keep reading this blog! Love ya and thanks!

is santa coming or what?

Finally, I can breathe. After a hectic week of parties, projects, and the usual pre-Christmas panic, I can now relax. That is, until I finish buying a few things for some people for our traditional Christmas eve gift-giving.

What is foremost in my mind right now is whether or not I should tell my 2 kids that Santa Claus does not exist. Hubby thinks it's cruel for me to reveal this and told me that I should just let nature take its course. Eventually, he said, the kids will find out for themselves. Hmm.. why would I feed my children lies? Can I just tell them that the gifts they will receive this Christmas are from Mom and Dad and from people who love them? Why would I tell them that some judgmental, fat, bearded guy wearing a red suit gave them the gifts because they've been nice instead of naughty? Besides, we don't have a chimney, just a kitchen vent.

I'm torn. I need your help, Oh learned people.

j low

Lowest of the (J.)Lo
what the hell was Cavalli thinking when he made this atrocity?

This is what you'll look like if you deny your pregnancy and when you've been impregnated by your undead and underfed husband. I came across this photo and I just couldn't get over how utterly MENTAL Jenny from the block looks like with this 70s get up gone totally wrong. Har-har-har! She looks like she's gone over the edge! And what's with the shoes?! Gah! You can take the girl out of the Bronx but you can't take the Bronx out of the girl. I think she wore this horrendous get-up in a concert just recently. Sorry J.'Low' fans, even if you give me a ticket, I'll never be caught dead in any of her concerts or watch any of her movies. No matter what she does, what she wears, and how much she has in her bank account, she still looks cheap! Just goes to show that you can't buy class, dahling!

delayed gratification

If you've been reading my blog you would've come across a caption I wrote for a picture in Boracay (the one where I was with some people for a fashion pictorial for a local magazine I used to be Editor of). I mentioned about this wannabe who has the audacity to call herself the editor/publisher of this 'has-been' magazine (or should I say the magazine that went kaput after 6 issues?). I mean, if you can't freakin' write even if your life depended on it, don't quit your day job. But this wannabe quit her job as a glorified saleswoman (probably of some non-BFAD approved meds) and decided that she wanted to become publisher and editor of a magazine. Anyway, this intellectually-challenged biatch hired me to resuscitate her magazine. Apparently, after a few issues of attempting to write, she became the laughing stock of the whole city because, yes, Virginia, she can't write!! I mean, it would have been forgivable if she just had a problem with her writing style because she could actually work on that. But the thing is, this two-faced lunatic had (and still has) a problem with grammar that was sooo bad it made me 'want to puke' (to quote the late National Artist Francisco Arcellana after a classmate of mine submitted her super trite poem in Poetry class in college).

Anyway, I joined this magazine and I actually had a great time editing, writing, and styling the fashion shoots (even if the latter was not part of my job description). After my last issue (my contract said 6 mos. or roughly 3 issues), this idiot wannabe asked me if I could do another one. I said yes (huge mistake) but told her that I'd be editing via email since I was going on a trip to the US. We agreed that she would pay me half of my professional fee considering that I wouldn't be able to do half of the job. So, I went to the US and waited and waited for articles to edit but nothing came. When I got back to the P.I., predictably, I ended up finishing the job (overseeing the layout, following up the writers, editing, proofreading, etc.). The only thing that I wasn't able to do was the fashion shoot (which was not even part of my goddamn job description!).

To make the long story short, when payment day came, Ms. Cheapskate still paid me half! The gall, the guts, the lack of conscience and honor -- my gawd, I wanted to slap her face 1001 times! I mean, yes I know we talked about her paying me half, but that was because of the premise that I would be doing half of the job via email! If she had a conscience and some semblance of dignity, knowing that I busted my ass doing that last issue, she should have paid me my usual fee! Actually, the money was not important (it was measly, proof that she is in fact a cheapskate who could not afford publishing a magazine), it's the fact that she had no HONOR, no delicadeza, and no sense of integrity that really irked me.

I still have a lot of things to reveal in the next few days about this girl and her bogus magazine, but for now, I just want to say that last Saturday, after watching Hitman with hubby dearest, I came face to face with the fugly loser and guess what, I didn't even recognize her! I don't know if it's just me and my short term memory, but I think it was because of her generic, unquotable, dense, plain, and dumb face -- I mean, who the hell can remember a face like that?! Aside from the generic-ness of her fugly face, she was wearing a baseball cap. Was she hiding from someone? Rumor has it that she's been borrowing money from people because she can't pay her office rent. Although that is actually not a rumor as a friend of mine told me Ms. Publisher tried to borrow money from her. Karma, karma, karma!

Again, to make the long story short, Ms. Dumbo said hello to me. The gall! And I thought I was the one with the short term memory. After everything that happened between us, she says hello and that's it?! She expects me to go all mushy, shake hands, kiss and make up? Nevah! She is C-R-A-Z-Y!

After 5 seconds of memory lapse, it finally dawned on me that the git who said hello to me was actually the lowlife publisher that I wanted to lynch a year and a half ago. Of course, I went ballistic. If I had a gun, okay, make that 2 guns, I would have shot her brains out ala Hitman (the memory of Tim Olyphant was still fresh in my mind). So bitchy me approached the gutless git and told her that she makes my skin crawl. I said I haven't forgotten what she has done to me and the fact that she had the audacity to say hello to me is the clearest manifestation of how thick-faced she really is, blah, blah, blah! The whole time I was spewing invectives at her, she just stood there like the idiot that she was with her mouth open sputtering incoherent words. Pathetic!

What I did last Saturday gave me a sense of satisfaction. I know I should have done that a year and a half ago, but I guess delayed gratification is much, much better.

30 pages and still breathing

Whew! I just finished 30 pages of research today (an excruciating task that I had to do as part of my 5-year plan so I can't complain because I brought this upon myself) and I'm pooped. It's 1 am and after sitting in front of the computer the whole day, it's a miracle that I still have the energy to write. These past 2 days have been quite hectic for me but I feel good because I was able to finish my column early (it will come out on Monday and probably ruin some people's appetites -- oh, how I love to be obnoxious!) as well as the 30 pages I was talking about. I've been good, so tomorrow I think I shall reward myself with a lot of testosterone blasting action (hmm.. sounds kinky but it's not what you think it is, although that too would be fun). I'm watching HITMAN! Of course, my ever steady date will be my movie addict husband. Nothing like hard core action to make me forget that I still have tons of things to do.

For sure, it's gonna be one hell of a weekend for me and the whole famille. I have errands on Friday and Saturday, house-cleaning (of the very serious variety) until Sunday, and Zak's Family Day in Assumption also on that day. On top of these, my brother, his wife and two kids will be arriving after 10 years of absence (although I stayed with him last year in NJ so it's not really as bad as it sounds) in the P.I. (that's Philippine Islands!) For sure, I'm going to gain extra pounds while they're here. Groan! Groan!

quotable quotes from the incorrigible Ripley

"I've got beauty, I've got brains, I've got personality!"

"Mommy, I'm a beauty queen!" (after putting her plastic cup on top of her head)

"I love you mommy, I love you daddy, I love you aswang." (now this is scary especially at 2 am)

"I want to drink Tanduay." (either she's watching too much TV or she's got a drinking problem I don't know about...)

"I'm sexy mommy!" (after putting on my clothes, heels, and jewelry)

"Grandpa I want to be the president of this country." (did GMA ever say this exact line to her grandfather?)

what a show!

Eric's show last night was a huge success. His 40-piece collection was fabulous, fabulous, fabulous! Of course I had a sneak peek days before the show but it's different when the clothes are on stage donned by models, they look absolutely beautiful. F&C's jewelry collection also added that extra oomph to the whole get-up and I must say that with this show, Eric has definitely outdone himself.

I'll be posting more photos when the official pictures from that night will come out. In the meantime, here are a few snapshots taken after the show for the curious...

with friends Dr. Kristine Treñas, moi in Eric de los Santos couture,
designer Jasmine Castelo in her androgynous outfit,
and Luziel O. in vintage Eric de los Santos.

Picture perfect. Jasmine, Eric's sister and my
HS classmate, Julie Ann de los Santos Miñoso
Brends, me, Dr. Kristine, and Luziel.

Hubby Brends, beautiful me (this is my blog, I can say what I want), and
my best friend forever, the show's director/choreographer Aldrich Aparicio.

sleepless in the city

I'm an 8-hour sleeper. Anything less than 8 hours transforms me from a relatively sane person to a complete lunatic. Yesterday I only had 4 hours of sleep and so I felt like yesterday's trash that have been recycled twice. I was basically half-human yesterday, so those who know me had the smarts to stay away from me. Let's just say that aside from going a little bit cuckoo, I also get extremely violent when I lack the requisite 8 hrs. (Which was why I had the strongest compulsion to pummel some extremely shallow, trivial, crass, and vulgar people yesterday.)

Anyway, in spite of my state (my friend Christy kept telling me I had raccoon eyes, thank you very much), I managed to drop by a Christmas party of sorts at Freddy's along with 3 of my good friends Christine (a.k.a Cho Chang) Jonathan (a.ka. Cedric D.) and Christy (the vamp). It's so nice to be with real people for a change, not the irritating wannabes that I have to deal with (in the still not to be revealed part of my life). We had a lot of laughs and a lot of fun last night -- for once I was stress free!

The Ho's: Christine Lao-Ho and Jonathan Ho


Reunited in Freddy's! Christy Love and moi.
The vamps who didn't get any sleep last night.

We're not yet drunk! Christmas party with B2 peeps
and Bob Ponje masquerading as one of us

As for today, I managed to get a good night's sleep and I woke up at 10 am. I'm going to attend Eric de los Santos's fabulous by-invitation show tonight so I needed to catch up on my sleep to be able to function like a normal human being tonight. I'm wearing one of Eric's creations so I don't want to look like what the cat dragged in. Meow!

I love you JH!

Few men can make me go limp and speechless but the dude up there can. Swoon! Swoon! Anybody expecting an unbiased, intelligent, coherent review of 30 Days of Night can just forget it. I LOVE JOSH HARTNETT! Those eyes can melt steel and my heart (did I say that? Give me a slap for being cheesy! -- oh, but I love him, I love him, I do!!).

I know I'm going to have a lousy day today because I'm about to do something really stressful (and never mind what that is), so I'm posting Josh's photo here to counteract the bad vibe of this day. I watched the movie, which was based on the three-issue mini-series of horror comics written by Steve Niles and illustrated by Ben Templesmith, with my husband the other day (of course, he wanted to give me more than just a slap on the face for going gaga over Josh). 30 Days of Night is a treat for vampire lovers as it depicts the scarier, faster, more violent Nosferatu type vampires (as opposed to the romanticized, velvet-wearing lotharios). What made them creepier was that they spoke in their own demonic, ancient vampire lingo. Eeww. The humans (except for JH, of course) were kinda boring compared to the relentlessly hungry bloodsuckers.

Watch this film and enjoy the gore (and of course JH). The only irritating part is that this film is set in Barrow, Alaska, a cold (obviously), isolated town where the sun goes on hibernation for 30 days each year (meaning the town is virtually in darkness for a month making it a perfect gorging venue for the vamps) -- and so, there is absolutely NO NUDITY in this movie. Josh was wearing this thick jacket the whole time that revealed no interesting body part whatsoever (except for his beautiful face -- sigh!). I was still expecting him to give me a short preview of half, okay, a fourth of his tush as the movie was about to end, but nothing, he gave me nothing! Oh well, I guess I'll have to watch reruns of Pearl Harbor for that (damn you Kate Beckinsale!).

this vampire desperately needs a good dentist

a decade of fashion

Eric de los Santos celebrates 10 fabulous years in the fashion industry. I'm speechless. I've been doing this guy's press releases, bios, profiles, interviews, etc. for years now and I can't think of a thing to say except -- Congratulations my dear fab friend. You deserve all the blessings and success and I know you'll make it to another 10 - 20, hell 50 years!

On Dec. 9, Eric's going to celebrate in a big (and very exclusive) way with a by-invitation only fashion show at Hotel del Rio. Below are 2 samples of his invites and we were torn because we couldn't choose between the two -- they both looked so good. I haven't seen what Eric finally decided on but I think he went with #2. I would go with #1 for its elegant simplicity but the Andy Warholish effect is kinda cute, too.

For more about Eric, visit him at his website at www.ericdelossantos.com (by the way, Brendan, my hubby made the site).

Congratulations again Eric! Good luck on your show and see you on Sunday! Now I have to find something to wear. (Hint, hint!)

Vignettes

the one with the whirlwind romance

I knew that some good would come out of my being such a shameless KSP (Kulang Sa Pansin, what else?). After advertising my blog yesterday to unsuspecting family and friends, I was surprised to receive emails from my old college sorority sisters, obscure relatives, friends I haven't seen for ages, and clients from way back (when I was still a corporate bad-ass wearing 4-inch stilettos). They told me that they viewed this blog (although I think they just said that as not to hurt my feelings because last time I checked, my profile views remained a sorry number of 67! I know because the 67 views were all mine -- liars!), and congratulated me on how domesticated I've become what with 2 beautiful kids and an adoring husband, etc., etc.

But more than their requisite hellos, I was glad to hear a lot of great news yesterday. And one that really made me all happy and excited was an invitation from Joanna, my sorority sis and ka-batch, to her wedding this December. She told me that it was a whirlwind romance, which made it all the more romantic. Although knowing her, she must have hit him with a big club, and dragged him to her cave -- oops, I think that was a scene from a National Geographic documentary I watched last night -- must have confused the two (grin, grin).

To my friend, hope you make not just your wedding fun but your married life as well. You deserve it my dear, wedding bells and all. Congratulations and all my good intentions and wishes go to you and your future husband.

the case of the missing photos
After months of looking for my old photos, which I knew were just lurking somewhere in the dark abyss of my husband's files, patiently waiting for their master to reclaim them to their former glory, I finally found them. The whole lost and found scenario reminded me of Proust's "Remembrance of Things Past".

"I feel that there is much to be said for the Celtic belief that the souls of those whom we have lost are held captive in some inferior being, in an animal, in a plant, in some inanimate object, and so effectively lost to us until the day [which to many never comes] when we happen to pass by the tree or to obtain possession of the object which forms their prison. Then they start and tremble, they call us by our name, and as soon as we have recognised their voice the spell is broken. We have delivered them: they have overcome death and return to share our life."

That's not me talking, that's my old (and dead) friend, French writer Marcel Proust. Absolutely dramatic. For some old photos, I break into poetry. Give me a million bucks, I'll probably do something really extraordinary like contort or recite all of Shakespeare's sonnets backwards. Toss a few hundred thousand bucks more and I'll do both at the same time.

Those photos won't see the cover of Vogue, Cosmo and definitely not O (even if I don a wig, gain 70 lbs. more and go to the tanning salon -- simply because I'm not Oprah, dummy). But they give me this blast from the past (when I was a few pounds thinner/heavier and younger with less wrinkles) that always makes me SMILE.

Here are some of the pictures for your viewing:

our family photo, watch out for the angry baby! (because you're holding me too tight, mother!)

Striking a pose at the Sanson y Montinolla Antillan house
(one of Iloilo's heritage treasures, the house, not me).
Photo by James Chua, styling by Jasmine Castelo, make up by Dyutay,

La dolce vita!
I bamboozled a complete stranger to loan us this beautiful yacht for a pictorial.
Photo by Leo Solinap

the cast of characters of the shoot for a magazine I'm no longer connected with (thank God! the biatch who claims to own the magazine needs a lobotomy and some tips on corporate manners, not to mention a crash course in magazine editing and writing -- this is a story that I would gladly tell you on another day perhaps..). Anyway, the foreigner dude beside me is Marcel who owns the yacht, the rest are our models and staff, oh, there's Pepoy on the far right who did the hair and make up.

oh, ain't she the cutest? Me not Ripley. Ha-hah!
That's me with all of my post maternity fat (can someone photoshop those damn arms?),
my devoted husband (who's one of the few guys
I know who can get away with a pink shirt),
and of course, my little angel Ripley at 6 mos.
This was taken on her baptism at Messe Ristorante.

have column, will write

I would have wanted to name this blog entry "the resurrection and the life". Today, my column "Serendipity" in the local daily newspaper, The News Today, was resurrected from the dead. After months and months of not being able to write anything for the paper, I had a lucid interval last week (brought about by Trillanes's failed coup attempt -- again!) and decided to submit an article.

Erly, the editor, welcomed me like a father would his prodigal daughter and scheduled my column on Mondays. According to him, Monday is a good day since it's the start of the week, readers are always eager to read the paper on this day after a long peaceful weekend. Tsk...tsk, these poor unsuspecting readers, they're in for a lot of angst, cynicism, negativity and pain on the first day of their relatively great weekday. See, I have this innate gift of ruining people's appetites (and on a larger scale, people's lives) when I write. Someone once said that I don't use words, I use venom. I guess my acerbic tongue could use a little bit of sugar sometimes.

For my first 'outing', I did the '2 birds with one stone' bit and used the blog entry I made last Thursday. I was so into the coup thing and wanted to share my disgust with the rest of the Ilonggo population. Rest assured, the next articles in my column would be originals or offshoots from this blog. (Hey, gimme a break, I'm a multi-tasker mom who only has one Alzheimer-prone brain.)

Anyway, you can check out my column (take a look at the archives too for oldies) at The News Today. It's available in news stands, bookstores, dentists' offices when you're waiting for that dreaded root canal, public toilets (they come in handy), and coffee shops when you want to look as if you're doing something intellectual (as opposed to looking like a lecher checking out girls). If you're an Ilonggo abroad or just plain curious, just visit our 24/7 online version at www.thenewstoday.info. Happy reading.

confessions of an amateur blogger

I must admit, I'm a late bloomer -- in blogging that is. Although, you could also say I'm a late bloomer in the body development department. My high school Lit. teacher once said, "you have the substance jong, just work on the form." I was a 75 lb. anorexic-looking 15 year old who could give the Olsen twins a run for their money, so her matter-of-fact statement about my weight was taken with a grain of salt (and a lot of tears, sleepless nights, and life-long therapy). It worked out in the end for me though. When you're thin in high school, chances are when you give birth, you'll develop curves in all the right places (I think I heard someone say this exact line before...gah! you actually believe this crap?). Of course, genetics play a huge part, that's why I always tell my male friends to check out the moms of their girlfriends first before blurting out that ubiquitous proposal. Boys, those wide hips of mom will soon be your future wives' extra baggage. (Don't worry girls, if your men truly love you, they'll look beyond such trivial details as wide hips and er, huge thighs.)

But I digress (like I always do). Let's go back to blogging. I think I'm years and years behind this blogging thing. I started a blog in 2005, but because of my impatience and my past tech-phobia (I used to get intimidated by anything more sophisticated than my trusty old Underwood), I junked that blog before I could even put a decent photo in my profile (that was actually why I quit in the first place, I hated the mumbo jumbo that went with the posting of my minuscule unphotoshopped photo). A few months back, I gave it a try again, but there was a glitch with blogger.com at that time and I got cold feet. Finally, around two weeks ago, I decided to do it one last time, and voila! Here it is. I'm still trying to grope my way around, but I think I'm doing pretty well. What do you think?

I haven't mastered the buttons and gizmos and widgets and whatever you call 'em, but I'm operating on trial mode here, so give me a break. The thing about blogging though is that it takes so much of my time (a luxury multi-taskers like me do not have). Added to this is my internet service provider's propensity to bog down at the most inopportune time. I'm also sharing a pc with my husband because my laptop broke down (thanks to my daughter who decided to give it a coffee bath), so you can just imagine the things that I have to do in order to hog the pc (pole and lap dancing, kinky sex, and maybe a Brazilian wax soon -- ouch!).

I'm enjoying this. I just wish I'm more enterprising (google ads, anyone?), or more OC (as in obsessive-compulsive). I was thinking of sticking to one topic, like fashion or parenting, but hey, life's too short and colorful to put limitations on one's self. There's so much that I want to talk about and putting all of my creativity, angst, thoughts, rantings, ramblings, comments, ideas in one basket would be quite tragic and very, very sad.

And so, tadaa!! I officially welcome myself to the blogging world. Fasten your seatbelts fellow bloggers and readers, this is gonna be one hell of a blog. (Er, I can still resurrect my old Underwood if things don't work out, right?)

the cuckoo coup

I remember waking up to the loud sound of choppers flying over the UP Diliman campus when I was 17. I was a dormer in Kalayaan (which literally means "freedom" -- with a name like this, it's ironic that we never had much freedom there... but that's another story), a kid fresh out of high school who was all alone in the City of Man (as in Man[ila], as a friend used to call it). All of us in the girl's wing on the 3rd floor jumped out of our beds and images of Idi Amin and Hitler flashed before my eyes. "Coup d'état!" was heard reverberating through the hallways and although we knew how grave the situation was, we were all thinking of the same thing -- classes were suspended! Yipee! (That was how young and stupid we were -- anything to get us out of Math 1.)

Fast forward to 2007, November 29. Trillanes did it again yesterday. (Do I hear Britney Spears singing, “Oops…” in the background?) I mean, this guy never learns from his past mistakes. To say that I was embarrassed is an understatement. It's days like this when as a Pinoy, you just wish you lived in Iceland (#1 as one of the best places to live on earth according to a recent survey) or in a galazy far, far, far away.

I'm not a political zealot. I hate to talk about politics, and although I rant about how stupid, corrupt and hopeless this country's government is, I'm also not the type to go out into the streets and rally for change (although I did go through my "Ibagsak ang imperialistang kano" phase in UP when I fancied myself a "tibak" -- as in activist). But when yesterday's fiasco was witnessed by people all over the world (it was in CNN and probably even in Telemundo or some other obscure Spanish cable channel), I just can't help but react.

This coup thing, this just won't work anymore. I can't even keep track of how many coups I've witnessed since that fateful day in Diliman. And all of them never worked! Yes, yes, we know that Gloria Arroyo is an immoral, corrupt bitch, and all the other invectives you can think of now will probably describe her perfectly, but overthrowing her government to institute (or is it force?) change is a futile act. Just wait till the 2010 elections and whip her ass, that's how it should be. I mean, the only real damage this act of rebellion has caused was the one done to that poor hotel door when it crumbled from the onslaught of that mammoth tank. For me, no damage to the government was made, GMA still sits on her queenly throne and Trillanes is once again f**ked.

Gawd, the embarrassment. One man's stupidity is everybody's shame. They're all a bunch of cuckoos if you ask me -- from Trillanes to GMA and her minions. EDSA can never be repeated. Let's leave it at that.

zak's day

My blogging momentum was temporarily derailed for a few days because of a DSL glitch. The thing with local service providers is that they make promises they don't keep. I've yapped, cursed, ranted, and screamed a few times because of problems with my internet connection and I noticed that if you don't go ballistic, your complaints usually fall on deaf ears. Customer service is a misnomer in this part of the world. Customer disservice is more like it.

Anyway, what have I been up to for the past days? Well, our son, Zak just had his first Holy Communion and Brends and I are extremely proud of him. They've rehearsed for a month before the D-day and it was all worth it. That's what I like about Assumption, they give so much importance on this sacrament. Zak's Holy Communion is a gift that I know he'll always cherish and keep inside of him the way I did. The ceremony was so beautiful and jaded me got misty-eyed especially when Zak said his lines (he did a prayer) perfectly. I almost fainted when he opened his mouth to speak but that was just me in my "overacting stage mom" mode. Sometimes we parents tend to worry too much. Our kids are actually way, way smarter than us.

Here's Zak holding his certificate of Communion. He looks so happy. It's moments like this when as a parent you feel that you've done something right. I think that more than tradition, putting Zak in Assumption was the best decision we ever made (Brends and I also went to Assumption). I want to be able to give him a strong spiritual background considering that he'll be continuing his schooling in the US soon. I know how the public school system (in the US and even here) can stunt a child's spiritual growth. I don't want to put him in a Catholic school too. That'd be too much financially and I'd be limiting his exposure to the real world. I want Zak to be independent and strong. He's already a great, smart, fun-loving boy, and I just want him to have strength of character and a bit of grit in him to survive this mad, bad world.

Nice shot! This was taken after the mass. We're all so color-coordinated (down to my hot pink pumps)! This family photo would have been perfect if Ripley was here but she decided to go to sleep right after the ceremony... I guess she got tired from running around the AC chapel. What can I do, she's 2 for God's sake!

After the Communion we had a nice family dinner in this new restaurant called Bigby's in Smallville. Zak wanted to try their quesadillas and ribs (they were great!) and their appetizers were also good. I love Bigby's because of their huge servings and even if the price is a little bit steep by this city's standards, I think the big portions more than compensate for it.

My mom-in-law Mommy Bel also went to dinner with us. Too bad the 2 other grandparents (my ma and pa) were not able to go. Ripley enjoyed herself although she had a temper tantrum and almost broke a plate (grr..). That's Brends, mommy Bel, Zak, Ripley and me.

the one with the minuscule serving

I hate small servings. There's one good reason for this -- I AM NOT A BIRD. Birds don't eat, they sort of just peck on their food with their little sharp beaks that can only hold small portions of insects, plants, or whatever stuff they love to eat. This is actually one of my nightmares, to sit in a restaurant starving and delirious from hunger and this waiter would give me a huge plate with nothing but 3 strands of pasta and a blot of sauce.

Last weekend, the whole family tried this new restaurant called Gusteau in the corner of Jalandoni and Delgado Streets. I heard from friends that the desserts were good, so the four of us trooped there with hungry stomachs and visions of Tiramisu after a satisfying lunch. Yep, the cakes and pastries looked yummy all right but we didn't even bother to order them. After a lunch of 2 lilliputian pizzas for Zak and Ripley, 4 spoonfuls of crab roe pasta for me, and my husband's roastbeef underload (the menu said 'overload' -- are you kidding me?), I didn't bother ordering dessert. I imagine they'd give me a mini cupcake the size of a peso coin, so what's the use? I did taste their dessert, a friend gave me a bite of their chocolate brownie and it was delish. I can't say much about the rest of their menu though. We left the place with grumbling stomachs and had burgers in Mc Donald's instead. Now that's what I call food!

Uppers:
great ambiance, nice seats, classy and clean, yummy desserts
Downers:
small food portions, quite expensive

Tip: If you still want to try out Gusteau's food, I suggest that you do a bit of role playing as not to be disappointed. Imagine you're a dwarf or some smaller creature like a fairy or a pixie and act as if you've been invited by a giant ogre to dine with him. The food will instantly look big -- gigantic actually! And when you're done eating Ogre's food, I still suggest that you go to the nearest fastfood joint and pig out.

the blahs

There are just days when you just want to sulk and vegetate. Ah, the blahs. Today is just one of those days when both the weather and my hair refused to cooperate. A typhoon was supposed to hit this side of the pacific, but fortunately, it decided to go some place else. My 2nd grader whooped with joy of course, because classes were suspended. Genius me didn't even bother to call the school, so I drove all the way to Assumption braving the blasted rain, traffic, mud, and potholes only to be told to go home by the guard.

To add to my agitated state, my kid's barber also didn't show up at the appointed time and I had to entrust my son's hair to some stranger who apparently had a deep affinity for his electric shaver. My son was looking at me with panic-stricken eyes when Barber X almost zinged his left ear. It wasn't entirely a disaster, Zak didn't lose any of his vital external organs or anything (or I would have shaved X's head and pounded him with the razor) but I know his hair would have been cut better if his old barber did it. The thing is, I just wanted him to look neat and handsome for his Holy Communion this weekend.

Gosh, how time flies. 8 years ago I was deciding whether I'd let the doctors do a circumcision just a day after I gave birth to him (so sue me I did let them do it. I blame it on the epidural still muddling my brains at that time. But I know he'll thank me someday for that for sparing him the agony and the embarrassment...) and now Brends and I are attending spiritual enrichment seminars for parents. Ah, parenthood. I get warm fuzzy feelings just thinking about my kids.

But I digress. Back to the blahs. I'm currently working on a magazine cover story and my visit to the printer to do some lay-out corrections didn't really work out too well. I had a major blockage in that part of the brain responsible for the realm of creativity. The layout sucked. Even old issues of Vogue couldn't help me out of the artistic rut that I was in. Diana Vreeland, where art thou? I must have forgotten to drink my morning coffee... which also explains why I'm having a massive migraine attack right now.

The thing about the blahs is that it isn't a permanent state of mind and being. If everything seems hopeless today, remember that tomorrow is always another day. Have a great day y'all.

baby talk

Two reasons why I just keep on going. Never thought I had it in me, this motherhood thing. I'm probably the last woman to be crowned mother of the year but my kids think I'm great (especially if I blackmail them with homemade pizza).

They're both so different. Zaki's the food connoisseur (he prefers sashimi than the ubiquitous McDo burger). He's gentle, sweet, and with an EQ higher than most adults I know. Ripley, on the other hand is oozing with character and spunk. She's my karma. The only living person who could probably whip me into meek submission. Zaki couldn't have said it better, "she's beautiful Mom, but she's crazy!" -- oh well, what can I say, she takes after me. As for their Dad, Brends is the kind of person who lets us all be ourselves. Never obtrusive and completely non-judgmental -- he's the ever gentle force behind us all.