Red > White

Before my PR stint, I was never really the avid wine drinker. Red, white, sparkly, bubbly, WHATEVER. I couldn’t care less. (Well, the fact that I had this really traumatic red wine incident back in college didn’t help matters either. It was really REALLY bad wine. Steffi and I bought the cheapest one we could find for our costume-slash-christmas party. I was the devil and Jannin was Queen Amidala. )

But after going to party after party, event after event, I’ve learned to appreciate wine drinking more. And I have to say that I find that I prefer red over white any time.

Like today at my sister’s graduation dinner party. Yes, my little sister, is now officially unemployed. Go Mina!!!!

ANYWAY, wine. We had steak and lobsters (with sinful lemon butter sauce damn it there goes my friggin diet) and carbonara pasta and salad and garlic bread. And the option to choose between drinking coke, champagne and red wine.

I opted for white. But quickly changed my mind when I had a whiff of my mom’s red wine (strategically?) placed beside me. White’s more bubbly, more bitter. Red just slides languidly down your throat…I now understand why Bree from Desperate Housewives became an alcoholic. She’s not your typical tambay-sa-kanto-inom-ng-beer-and-gin alcoholic. She’s a classy one. She got hooked on wine. Red, to be exact.

And if every wine bottle she drank tasted like or is better than the one my uncle especially opened for tonight’s occasion…gaaaad my mouth’s watering already. Too bad there’s none left. Oh well. I guess I have to wait until the next special family occasion. Or the next society or whatever event I’m attending. Soon, I hope.

I have an addictive personality. I don’t know if that’s a curse or a blessing. I like to believe it’s a bit of both.

I’m supposed to upload some photos of fashion week. But the connection’s taking its time so I’ll just save the photos for later. I’m not in a very patient mood.

I had an epiphany of sorts too: it’s really REALLY hard to pretend you’re sober in front of your family.

My uncle (the controversial one whom I hope would never chance upon this blog) was giving us a preview of what his commencement speech would be like (he has this whole earring gimmick thing prepared) and I burst into a fit of giggles. I don’t even KNOW what I found so funny about it.

Anyway. I made this really lame excuse about remembering a funny line from this imaginary korean flick I watched WHICH immediately backfired because my uncle told us he was keen on watching this famous koreanovela his (other controversial) friend told him about. It was inevitable. I burst into laughter. Damn you, red wine!!!!!!!!!!

Of course I DO realize I just made a complete ass out of myself. I do that quite often these days.

Aloha!

A blogging brick wall?

Seems like I find myself facing one.

I have tons to write about but I just can’t manage to put these thoughts into words.

It’s not like I don’t have the time. The other week was an impossibly busy one but this week’s like the total opposite. Around 60% of my days are spent on bathroom breaks.

No, I am not THAT vain (maybe just a little).

It’s the searing heat. Our office is air conditioned but the heat manages to seep through our windows, crawl past the place where teacher juday masters the art of typing and finally settles comfortably in our very VERY beige office. It hovers there for hours. Literally roasting us alive.

Hence, ergo, therefore, in conclusion…SO THERE.

I drink at least 10 glasses of water a day.

Time for Shakespeare

“All the world’s a stage,
And all the men and women merely players;
They have their exits and their entrances;
And one man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages. At first the infant,
Mewling and puking in the nurse’s arms;
Then the whining school-boy, with his satchel
And shining morning face, creeping like snail
Unwillingly to school. And then the lover,
Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad
Made to his mistress’ eyebrow. Then a soldier,
Full of strange oaths, and bearded like the pard,
Jealous in honour, sudden and quick in quarrel,
Seeking the bubble reputation
Even in the cannon’s mouth. And then the justice,
In fair round belly with good capon lin’d,
With eyes severe and beard of formal cut,
Full of wise saws and modern instances;
And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts
Into the lean and slipper’d pantaloon,
With spectacles on nose and pouch on side;
His youthful hose, well sav’d, a world too wide
For his shrunk shank; and his big manly voice,
Turning again toward childish treble, pipes
And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all,
That ends this strange eventful history,
Is second childishness and mere oblivion;
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.”

— Jaques (Act II, Scene VII, lines 139-166)

Letter of Request

I wanted to buy 30 pieces of “special” folder for yesterday’s event. Folders for the press kit we needed to give to the press. So I asked “the teacher”* to give me money so I can go out and get some.

And she told me to give her a letter of request. I was already rushing to get things done and she wanted me to write a bloody letter–SIGNED AND NOTED–requesting for money to buy 30 friggin folders.

Uh, isn’t that what Cash Vouchers are for? And why bother when we liquidate every single expense anyway complete with receipts and expense details?

You should’ve seen my reaction shift from shock (this was the first time this whole letter-of-request thing happened) to amusement (I mean, come on!!!).

Good god woman. What planet did you come from?

—–

*She looks like one, see…

Blur

I’ve had such a busy week I barely had time to breathe. So I guess this is me catching my breath.

I have a client event tomorrow and it turns out, it’ll be happening the same time Bonifacio High Street is launching. Yahoo good luck to me. No wonder I’ve been having trouble inviting business and lifestyle press…they all have previous engagements! And to a competitor’s event no less. YEOWZA!! (I have no idea when the expression started)

To make matters worse, there’s going to be a strike within the event’s vicinity. (Why, Nestle, why?)

And I need to conquer my selective fear of heights as I will be going to the top of a 45-storey building via construction elevator only. (Why am I always stuck with real estate clients? And remind me to tell you bout the selective height phobia some other time)

And, ironically, these are all just products of cruel coincidence. And dragon lady appointed me project manager. Which came quite the shocker as she announced it a couple hours before I left work today. She just loves surprises. (Help me god…help me control the impulse to just strangle her already)

On a lighter (and hopefully distracting) note, I’ve started watching Ugly Betty. It’s like Devil Wears Prada. Only the editorial assistant’s no Anne Hathaway.
But I love Betty. I love her eagerness about her job in magazine publishing as an editorial assistant. Reminds me of how I was a year ago. (Eurgh, emo?)

Hehe anyway…I love the actress too. Her name is America Ferrera (I honestly thought it was Ferrari but I stand corrected) and she won a golden globe (I think. Or was it an emmy?) for her role. She was also in that movie about the sisterhood of traveling pants or shorts or something. And that other movie where she was stuck in a seamstress job but got to move to New York in the end…(Uh, I’m bad with titles)

She’s perfect for playing good-things-come-to-those-who-wait roles. Which is always a comfort to watch. And, underneath the braces and thickly framed glasses, she’s pretty! (And I actually love the glasses. If and when my eyesight deteriorates, I shall buy glasses like hers. Only it’ll be fake gucci as I can’t afford real ones. Or I could strike a deal with Evita Peroni. Free PR for free custom made glasses. Right.)

Anyway, I’m off to catch some ZZZs. Long day tomorrow. I wish I could just skip the event and go straight to Bonifacio High Street instead. (Traitor!!!)

[ Why all the ( ) ? ]

AAAAAH And I watched the latest episode of ROME! Mark Antony in makeup and airy Egyptian robes! Loving it. And Octavian still as cold and calculating as ever. >:)

Anyone fancy a hangover?

Because you can have mine. *groans*

We normally get hangovers the day after. But mine decided to come early. And it’s a sorry ass hangover at that. It didn’t really drive me into a state of drunken bliss at all. Instead, I’m sober as a cat (is this expression taken because if not I’m applying for a patent) and, unfortunately, would give owls a run for their money for staying up most of the night. If a thief were an animal, she’d be an owl. And yes, I am using the word SHE here. And yes too, I am not really making any sense. And what is with all the references to animals??

This is what happens when I can’t sleep. It’s the early hours of Saturday, my body’s still awake but my brain’s already off to la la land. Great job, brain. At least we know a part of me’s already getting much needed REM time.

Anyway. Hangover experts have advised I just throw it all up. But the tricky part is…I have this ridiculous fear of vomiting. Every time I make an attempt, I imagine my insides rushing out along with the vomit. Hey look, my heart’s on the table! *gasps*

Gawd.

And that, folks, concludes today’s entry. Have a hearty breakfast! Good mawnin!

Rockwell hosts 10th Philippine Fashion Week

This is one week’s worth of pr slavery! lol

I’ll probably be there every day folks. So send me an sms when you’re there too! Capish?? I’ll be the girl with a photographer on her heels. Good luck finding me!

Ciao!

Your layers of absinthe and torsion form concretions of hyperalimentation

Tribes of primitve hunters, with rhinestone codpieces rampant, should build pyramids of Chevy engines covered in butterscotch syrup to exalt the diastolic, ineffable, scintillated and cacophonous salamander of truth which slimes and distracts from each and every orifice of your holy refrigerator, Sears be its brand.
If seen on a disintegrating smokestack, your eyelashes would certainly compel even a wayward band of masticating cod into a feverish frenzy.

The spark of intelligence in your blinking eyes is not unlike the glow from the teeth of an electrocuted axe-murderess.

Your eyelids refract the turgid limnations of an eel trapped in flickering cinematographic paralysis.

Your mucuous membranes glisten with the glow of reactions in the act of regurgitation.

From The Surrealist Compliment Generator.

Lufthansa magazin and karaoke

Copies of Lufthansa’s monthly in-flight magazine recently arrived at the office. I was pleasantly surprised to see that they were featuring Manila in this month’s issue–check out the MB jeepney strutting its stuff at Lufthansa Magazin’s front cover!

The magazine featured the Manila music scene–there’s hardly a place that’s as nuts about music as Manila. Amen to that!

Lots of great pictures of Manila’s party scene. There was one of Freddie Aguilar playing at The Hobbit House, a bird’s eye view of the Ayala Avenue + Makati Avenue intersection taken from Makati Shangrila, the Makati in-scene having cocktails at Nuvo, and some people performing own renditions of their favorite tunes at a local karaoke joint.

Want a copy of the new Lufthansa Magazine? Fly Lufthansa now!!!

=p

I wanna go karaoke. I think my last karaoke session was Christmas last year. My dad bought magic sing and we had a contest. My usually quiet brother won. It was a surprise win. We were all betting on my mom. haha!

I’m bad at karaoke. I always pick my favorite epic songs (think along the lines of Bohemian Rhapsody) and they usually entail a lot of screaming and a couple of unreachable high notes. I’m usually greeted by a lot of flying veggies and boos by the time I reach my finale. Drop by record stores to buy my latest album.

C’est la vie!

hello stranger

My best friend from gradeschool is moving to Manila!

I haven’t seen her in ages and we’ve hardly kept touch. It’s not like we’re estranged or had this really horrible fight that takes forever to forget. The word here is neglect. We’ve led completely busy lives that we’ve taken each other’s presence for granted. We wrote each other at first (no emails then yet!) but the letters eventually stopped coming…Out of sight, out of mind, I guess.

Other than the fact that I know she’s married and has a son, I don’t really know anything much about her life now. And vice versa. We rarely see each other. I see her only when I come home to the province and our visits usually last around three to five hours because she’s busy with her family. Which translates to us spending time together only approximately 5 hours a year as I rarely come home to the province where we grew up–I usually stay put in Davao where I spent high school.

I met her son, my inaanak, only once and I guess it still hasn’t sunk in yet; that from being two peas in a pod, we’re leading completely different lives now.

We’ve reversed roles too.

My grand aunt used to be governor of our province when I was in gradeschool which implied me and my siblings being “kidnappable” so I was forced to stay home a lot and felt incredibly “trapped” most of my childhood. It was hard being the one who had to stay at home while everyone went out to play.

I guess that’s largely the reason why I’m always feeling restless. I just can’t stay put in one place for a long time–not again. I have to escape. Once I stepped into high school and discovered that there were a lot of things out there for me to experience, to taste, to feel…I knew then and there that I never wanted to miss out on anything again. I wanted to travel. Live the wayfarer’s life. If I could travel to a foreign place every single day of the year, hell yeah I would!

The nomadic existence is my ideal. My goal is to not leave one page of my passport unstamped before it expires (in 2009) and I have to get a new one again.

Tess, on the other hand, went wherever she wanted when we were kids. She’d go with our other friends all the way to the outskirts of town without having to worry about anything. She, however, stayed in the province all the way to college. She met her husband there, had their son, and established roots. I guess you could say she’s more inclined to settle there than I am.

I escaped – She stayed put. She’s content while I’m more restless than ever. I can’t even fathom going back for longer than a month! Which is a problem because my family would prefer (no pressure but I feel pressure AND guilt nonetheless because of this thing I call my conscience) that I go back and help with the family business. But that’s another gruelling story to tell so I’ll save it for later.

…

It’s going to be an interesting reunion.