To Err With Love

 a.k.a. Aufweidersehen, Tootsie.

This is my farewell post for my Tootsie. Truth is you can’t escape the past. It always find its way to catch up on anyone running away from it, at the most inconvenient time–talk about perfect timing!

Eventually when you’re trying to get through an awkward phase of “moving on”, it’ll come knocking like let’s say, an SMS coming from an ex asking you to come out of your house around 12 midnight. May sa adik ang invitation, which makes you really think twice of the intention. Don’t ya, chap?

That’s a true story for my girl, Tootsie. You see folks; once in a while I try to take a break from rant fests and try to give some of these two cents on LIFE. However, I can assure you that more often than not, you’ll get nothing out of it. You can’t blame a girl for trying.

Moving on, Tootsie here is in the process of jump starting her so-called life on the D list again. She quit her day job, her love life and yeah, basically those two – the most essential things in a young and underpaid urban girl’s life.  Actually, she’ll be opening another chapter her book. Yes, the urban girlie will be going international and will take the human shredding into a whole  new different level.  Alibaba and the forty thieves patiently waits because too many cold Arabian nights have passed and now, little Tootsie’s arrival will definitely make them say OPEN SESAME! Sorry, I’m a douche. I will severely miss her.

Yes, after her US trip, she’ll be moving to the land of milk and money. Yes, money! You know, shit that fuels this world.

A new life and world awaits this non-nomadic girl who hyperventilates at the mere thought of taking an international flight. Yes, dear there will always be a first. Don’t forget your adult diaper. LOL.

So just when she thought, she’s all set to move on—literally, a ghost of boyfriend’s past came in with a balikbayan box full of regret and schemes of “catching up”, whatever the hell that means, I think it’s just the jet lag talking.

If  all of this is  not just a grand master plan to  mess with her fragile mental state, I don’t know what!??! What I know is, past is fast. You live fast and sometimes you miss the essential things along the way.  No return, no exchange. What’s done is done. You know all those, movie-clichés. I know because I’m a party pooper, pessimistic woman. But that’s how I roll.

Life gives you all these little jigsaw puzzles. It’s all up to you to decide if you’ll let them fit into yours.

So Aufweidersehen, Toots. May your champagne wishes and caviar dreams come true whatever they may be.

P.S.

Size 8 pala shoe size ko, thought you should know.  WAAAHT? Send me a hot, middle-eastern if not. K. I’ll stop here.

My Weekend in a Blur

Or who’s that girl in between Rabeh Al Husseini’s shorts?

My first Friday night off in three months was spent loathing in a couch, channel surfing. It was the most relaxing thing I ever did. Yep. It really was until I received a text message from my housemate

 Be ready. Marathon  sa Ateneo on Sunday, 6AM.

 I literally froze. Instant reply that came out was “HOLY SHIT”. Since when did I become a sub for a sport that you’d  least likely find me engaging in?

First of all, I can only run about 2 kph. That’s the average, considering you let two hungry yet seemingly harmless K9 dogs loose.

But since it’s for a cause and she already paid for the registration and the works, who am I to refuse?  What kind ingrate would I be?  I am the kind that runs after hearing the gunshot, with 2 K9 dogs tailing at my back. So yeah, I very much obliged at that point.

Saturday night was a blur, I remember attending a friend’s sister’s debut. Alcohol consumption was minimal after we all decided to bounce because hey, it was an 18^th birthday, with all the well-off wishes of parents subtly hitting 2 birds with one stone saying — hey, my daughter’s free to date after she finished law school. Also, I’ve deployed military guards (under civilian clothing) around the campus thought you all should know. Yes, she is the daughter of a Police Superintendent. No big fucking deal.  We’re all reminded of how 18th birthdays are actually a big thing for the ladies –assumming they’re still STD-free.

About 2 am I find myself crawling to my bed, heels aching from the pumps I wore. Not really minding that within 3 hours I’ll be putting on my rubber shoes. Don’t know if I can actually skip to the oval at the very least.

6am Sunday, I did not recall how I got there but pretty much I can smell alcohol in my breath. We were ambitious enough to take the 5k instead of the 3k because we were sort of late.

I imagined running while puking or puking while running. In any order, it will not be pretty but that’s okay because thankgod it did not happen.

We finished last. What a surprise? As a consolation, we took pictures of ourselves with the life-size no make that gigantic-humongous statuettes of the Ateneo blue eagle players.

So, yeah. That’s how I got myself in between Al Husseini’s crotch and my friend in Chris Tiu’s. Pictures have not been uploaded everyone’s sake. Might change my mind if you post a comment. ACK!

Sunday night. We watched Public Enemies. And at this point, I’m not ready to bash the movie for being bland despite the fact that it was star-studded. I remain loyal to Johnny Depp.  Meantime, I wait for Alice  in Wonderland. 

Best weekend so far. I feel like running again. Yes, I feel running far away from work that is.

Promdi in the City

Some introspection happens when you are wide awake on weekendwaiting for sobriety to come back. Plus the fact that all of a sudden high school memoirs came rushing in at the most inappropriate time— your batch mates suddenly tagging you  in old photos (post-mortem. God have mercy on your high school self).  Should I hit the untag button now?

(more…)

Me v.s. The Weather

It had already occurred to me not just once but several times that the rain usually pours the hardest when:

1. My laundry (especially my underwear) is about to become considerably dry and wearable.

2. I’m wearing my new shoes to work or for a short stroll to Greenhills.

3. I did not bring my huge Honda umbrella.

4. I brought my tiny Hello Kitty folding umbrella.

5. I woke up late.. Thus, I become even more late because the street’s even more jam packed during a rainy day. Thus, you are caught in traffic while freezing your ass to death because you’ve tried to battle the heavy down pour with a small hello kitty umbrella. Yet you failed. Come’on, seriously?!

And the list can go on, but really the bottom line here is this, me and the weather has this sort of love-hate relationship. When I ask for a good weather, meaning not so humid and not blazing hot that a simple  2- minute ascend to the 3rd floor of the MRT station triggers my hyperactive sweat glands to open the flood gates, it does the otherwise.

It’s a continuous mockery… a strong snarky proof of its omnipotence. In a way, the weather is like a woman, and not just any woman. But a woman with PMS. Think about. Did I scare you enough?

Pounds of Flesh

Sometimes when you win, you lose.

Previously in my life (that is when I am not chasing butterflies or getting backstabbed for unpaid overtimes), I try to convert myself into a more healthy douchebag. I tried the 90-days-to-wellness program which I failed miserably. Hahahahaha. Point at me and laugh, all together now. If you have been reading through the past few posts, you might have sensed that desperation already. 

Didn’t shed a pound, despite the bitter fact that I was continiously living below poverty line  for the last 3 months coz I enrolled in that boxing class. Hey, but boxing’s a really good work out. Makes you feel old though, lots of body ache and katinko-application afterwards but I think I’m gonna enroll again.

The winners got a free hotel accommodation, spa treatments and makeovers. Yeah, like I need that?! Sore loser that I am.  The thing is I was motivated to undergo some sort of self-flagellation but I was too scared to actually risk it all — you know, like drinking diet pills, laxatives or something that might screw me over. What else is left to be damaged aside from my barely-there self-esteem? No, I am not a gambler. And I feel like if I resort to taking drugs, I’ll  just cheat my way into that coca-cola body frame.  I’m really stubborn, can you actually tell?

An officemate of mind offered that I should drink this pill that will cease hunger –not like totally but perhaps lessen your appetite. For six months you have to drink it. It costs around 1000.00 bucks for some number of pills. I don’t recall how many. I’m really cheapass these days. Aside from food, I want to spend my money on cds, shoes — you know shit that really matters. No I haven’t really thought about submitting myself to a surgeon to recreate me in the likeness and image of let’s say…Megan Foxx. Sure sure, if you have the money, why not? But for now, I digress.

Going back, surprisingly he did lose weight. I can now see his adam’s apple. Amazing! However, being the spineless twit that I am, I did not take the tempting offer….Well, not yet! I might. But then again….

I still believe that boxing, grueling workout sessions, running, sauna, swimming, and all other physical activities known to man (ahem) can do the trick. And of course proper diet which involves curbing your cravings for chocolates and everything else that is really palatable, delicious and unhealthy —-totally scraping them from your food pyramid will give you the ideal weight that you’re supposed to have.

Imagine, my ideal weight now was my weight when I was in high school. HIGH SCHOOL. That was some 10 years ago. Some of my batchmates gave birth to 2 or 3 rugrats already? And you want me to what, go back and rub my ass to the pavement of my h/s building and expect a miracle? F to the U.

So why just start self-consciousing now? Why not now? Why not ever? It just goes to show how vain people get when it comes to attending a very important ocassion. A big wedding’s gonna happen (not mine, mind you). Besides, better start fixing things while they are still repairable. Yeah, I really rationalize a lot. I guess that’s part of quarterlife crisis.