Okay,...
Enough with the short hair.
I'm growing it back. So I can do that good old trick of making a bun using a pencil that almost everybody went ooooh and aaaah about.
It might take me years, though.
And by that time I might already change my mind for the gazillion time about my hairdo.
Man, I'm so bored I even mopped the floor today.
Sunday, April 30, 2006
Saturday, April 29, 2006
Huffing and Puffing
I just talked on the phone to one of my best friends. One topic lead to another, then we talked about smoking and that somebody's aunt died not too long ago of lung cancer. She wasn't a smoker. Ever.
She was a second-hand smoker.
See, here is the thing. I don't care if people smoke. You can smoke all day, huff and puff all you want, I don't care.
And I don't care if the person is a female, or male, or under 21, or old, or cute, or whatever. His/her lung is his/her own business. He can burn it, drown it or donate it for all I care.
But I mind if I have to share air with the smokers while they are polluting it with their cigarettes / cigars.
That's just gross.
For me having to inhale that intoxicating air & risk my lung is unacceptable. My laziness for not working out or watcing out my diet is bad enough without me having to worry about my lungs.
My dad was an ex-smoker, my brother was an ex-smoker, my boyfriend was an ex-smoker, and I'm glad they quit, especially my dad who had been smoking for about 30 years. I bet it was hard as heck for him to quit, but he did. He's a living proof that it can be done. I'm very proud of him.
I never really appreciate his quiting smoking until I was old enough and informed enough how severe the damage can be, not only to him but potentially to the people surrounding him, like my mom or me or God forbid, my precious nephews.
And for that I thank him.
So, rather than buying cigarettes, donate it, or buy some new underwear. Imagine how many underwear you can buy in a year from the fund you allocate to buy cigarettes. You will never have to do underwear laundry ever again. Just toss it out after you wear it.
Oh, I know, buy an air purifier, I bet the smell sticks everywhere.
Bottom line, don't wait till it's too late. That's all I learnt today.
I bet it's hard. But I also bet it worth it.
*Dedicated to someone who is really close to my heart and to some others' hearts, who are also close to my heart*
(Got it?)
She was a second-hand smoker.
See, here is the thing. I don't care if people smoke. You can smoke all day, huff and puff all you want, I don't care.
And I don't care if the person is a female, or male, or under 21, or old, or cute, or whatever. His/her lung is his/her own business. He can burn it, drown it or donate it for all I care.
But I mind if I have to share air with the smokers while they are polluting it with their cigarettes / cigars.
That's just gross.
For me having to inhale that intoxicating air & risk my lung is unacceptable. My laziness for not working out or watcing out my diet is bad enough without me having to worry about my lungs.
My dad was an ex-smoker, my brother was an ex-smoker, my boyfriend was an ex-smoker, and I'm glad they quit, especially my dad who had been smoking for about 30 years. I bet it was hard as heck for him to quit, but he did. He's a living proof that it can be done. I'm very proud of him.
I never really appreciate his quiting smoking until I was old enough and informed enough how severe the damage can be, not only to him but potentially to the people surrounding him, like my mom or me or God forbid, my precious nephews.
And for that I thank him.
So, rather than buying cigarettes, donate it, or buy some new underwear. Imagine how many underwear you can buy in a year from the fund you allocate to buy cigarettes. You will never have to do underwear laundry ever again. Just toss it out after you wear it.
Oh, I know, buy an air purifier, I bet the smell sticks everywhere.
Bottom line, don't wait till it's too late. That's all I learnt today.
I bet it's hard. But I also bet it worth it.
*Dedicated to someone who is really close to my heart and to some others' hearts, who are also close to my heart*
(Got it?)
Wednesday, April 26, 2006
Flying poop
Holy Cow.
Today when walking at the parking lot, I saw a couple of duck flying and quacking and one of them just pooped right up in the air. Big poops just flung down to a car and I ran to the side, trying to avoid their path so they didn't pass my head.
Crazy psychopath duck!
With poop that big, it's a crime to fly.
Lesson learnt: Never trust anything flying. Not even a cute harmless-looking duck. Their poop is 10 times bigger than the birds'.
If the italians say it's good luck being pooped by a bird, imagine how lucky you'd be when the duck poop lands on your head.
Today when walking at the parking lot, I saw a couple of duck flying and quacking and one of them just pooped right up in the air. Big poops just flung down to a car and I ran to the side, trying to avoid their path so they didn't pass my head.
Crazy psychopath duck!
With poop that big, it's a crime to fly.
Lesson learnt: Never trust anything flying. Not even a cute harmless-looking duck. Their poop is 10 times bigger than the birds'.
If the italians say it's good luck being pooped by a bird, imagine how lucky you'd be when the duck poop lands on your head.
Tuesday, April 25, 2006
My Side Job
Brace yourself.
I'm going to reveal my other secret occupations.
I
am
a
Tarot
reader.
...
Don't laugh, I'm freaking serious. I've been doing this for years. My cards was brought from Netherlands, it's a french Tarot.
Am I good at it?
Mmmaaaayybeeee.
Maybe not.
But who cares? Because I'm signing off. I have faith in it. I believe in it and put effort in learning it. My mom is a great fortune teller. She has talent that I will never have, not in a million years. But I don't want to be a Tarot reader anymore.
Because some people just abuse my free time.
I just told my roommate the other day, some friends just take it for granted. All they look forward when meeting me is for sessions over sessions of tarot reading. Honestly, I think, they don't need my cards.
They'll do just fine.
The right man will come, the right job will fall on their path, the right decisions will be made, the business will do well, the year is going to be great. Because the future holds thousands of possibilities. They don't need my cards just to ask if the cute guy they just met is 'da one'.
And if you happen to fall for a jerk. You don't need my card to tell you that you deserve to find someone better. My cards are just the explicit affirmation of their subconsciousness. Something that they already have in the back of their mind. They just need a push to kick the jerk in the ... (you know what), leave him on the curb and start living their lives. (Am I being too hard?)
I try to live with uncertainty. It's hard, when you know that you might find an answer from the 'third drawer from the top' (there's where I keep my cards). Or from your mom, who practically owns a mental crystal ball. I do ask questions, but I barely do. Only in dire emergency.
I was 'fortune-told' too much during my adolescent time. Believe me, knowing less is better than more, especially when we are talking about the future. The element of surprise brings color to your life. Don't you think?
I almost never shuffle for myself. I did. But almost never. Only for problems I can't control, like if my job is in jeopardy, because if yes, then I might want to start hustling for another job or be prepared to go back home.
So, I'll tell them, I'm converting to be a the ultimate solitaire champion.
Or a mud wrestler... nah, just kidding. Obviously, for a potential obsessive-compulsive like me, that's just gross.
I'm going to reveal my other secret occupations.
I
am
a
Tarot
reader.
...
Don't laugh, I'm freaking serious. I've been doing this for years. My cards was brought from Netherlands, it's a french Tarot.
Am I good at it?
Mmmaaaayybeeee.
Maybe not.
But who cares? Because I'm signing off. I have faith in it. I believe in it and put effort in learning it. My mom is a great fortune teller. She has talent that I will never have, not in a million years. But I don't want to be a Tarot reader anymore.
Because some people just abuse my free time.
I just told my roommate the other day, some friends just take it for granted. All they look forward when meeting me is for sessions over sessions of tarot reading. Honestly, I think, they don't need my cards.
They'll do just fine.
The right man will come, the right job will fall on their path, the right decisions will be made, the business will do well, the year is going to be great. Because the future holds thousands of possibilities. They don't need my cards just to ask if the cute guy they just met is 'da one'.
And if you happen to fall for a jerk. You don't need my card to tell you that you deserve to find someone better. My cards are just the explicit affirmation of their subconsciousness. Something that they already have in the back of their mind. They just need a push to kick the jerk in the ... (you know what), leave him on the curb and start living their lives. (Am I being too hard?)
I try to live with uncertainty. It's hard, when you know that you might find an answer from the 'third drawer from the top' (there's where I keep my cards). Or from your mom, who practically owns a mental crystal ball. I do ask questions, but I barely do. Only in dire emergency.
I was 'fortune-told' too much during my adolescent time. Believe me, knowing less is better than more, especially when we are talking about the future. The element of surprise brings color to your life. Don't you think?
I almost never shuffle for myself. I did. But almost never. Only for problems I can't control, like if my job is in jeopardy, because if yes, then I might want to start hustling for another job or be prepared to go back home.
So, I'll tell them, I'm converting to be a the ultimate solitaire champion.
Or a mud wrestler... nah, just kidding. Obviously, for a potential obsessive-compulsive like me, that's just gross.
Sunday, April 23, 2006
Earth day
I bet you know that 'Mercy Mercy Me' by Marvin Gaye is a song about ecology and how mankind abuse it. Well, every time I hear the song, there's a part of it that reminds me of the all the sushi I ate, all the pollution I've sucked in and the land being commercialized for the new, the better, the bigger, the higher highrises.
I'm not the green-peace kind of person, but I do love nature and its habitat.
It is so sad to see the earth is going down being abused by mankind.
So, to honor Earth day, when Scarlett was ever so dirty yesterday, I didn't go to the car wash place & bathe her.
Besides, I've always been trying not to use air conditioning as much as I can, or let the water runs when I brush my teeth. And thanks to my boyfriend, I recycle paper waste now.
I'm kinda a pessimist at times, and i know that my contribution might be meaningless at all compared to all the damage done at the same time. But, heck, that's something I think I can do. And that makes me feel slightly better.
"...
Where did all the blue skies go?
Poison is the wind that blows from the north and south and east
Woo mercy, mercy me, mercy father
Ah things ain't what they used to be, no no
Oil wasted on the ocean and upon our seas, fish full of mercury
Ah oh mercy, mercy me
...
Radiation under ground and in the sky
Animals and birds who live nearby are dying
...
What about this overcrowded land
How much more abuse from man can she stand?
..."
I'm not the green-peace kind of person, but I do love nature and its habitat.
It is so sad to see the earth is going down being abused by mankind.
So, to honor Earth day, when Scarlett was ever so dirty yesterday, I didn't go to the car wash place & bathe her.
Besides, I've always been trying not to use air conditioning as much as I can, or let the water runs when I brush my teeth. And thanks to my boyfriend, I recycle paper waste now.
I'm kinda a pessimist at times, and i know that my contribution might be meaningless at all compared to all the damage done at the same time. But, heck, that's something I think I can do. And that makes me feel slightly better.
"...
Where did all the blue skies go?
Poison is the wind that blows from the north and south and east
Woo mercy, mercy me, mercy father
Ah things ain't what they used to be, no no
Oil wasted on the ocean and upon our seas, fish full of mercury
Ah oh mercy, mercy me
...
Radiation under ground and in the sky
Animals and birds who live nearby are dying
...
What about this overcrowded land
How much more abuse from man can she stand?
..."
Thursday, April 20, 2006
A gal pal is on the search
It hit me today, that I no longer has girlfriend bonding to any females, except for my coworkers (doesn't count) and my mom (also doesn't count).
My roommate moved a year ago back to the other side of the world. I moved out from my 'hood and my friends.
And now, I have no girlfriends.
I mean, I have girlfriends, but not the one that I can physically meet up easily for Sunday brunch or something.
And now, I haven't called my boyfriend since afternoon, I don't know where he is, I think his cellphone is dead and he told me that he's going to be out but I think his business is not done yet.
Then, it dawn to me, that my boyfriend has been bearing the double duty as my galpal.
Although, I don't exactly push him to go into Victoria Secret spent hours there.
And besides, I think sometimes I got the feeling that he doesn't really 'get it' when I talked about some issues, like my bitching out about how my day went, or when I was being PMSy and sensitive and cranky. But he does try to fill that role.
But now I'm wondering if I'm pushing my luck too far.
And if he has too much of me.
I guess I'll never know, because he would say no. And I would always wonder if that's the truth.
Ideally, I should find some girlfriends. And I should run an ad, just like those people in craigslist.org.
And when I manage to stir the courage to do so, I imagine the ad should say something like this:
Looking for a gal pal, who's witty, bitchy, spunky. Doesn't like boy bands. Likes to eat out and doesn't count calories on everything. Non smoker, loves autumn and animals. A good listener, a good debater and opinionated, in a good way.
Only need a liiiiittle time to dress up, take a shower and put on the make up.
Likes watching TV. Have good knowledge on pop culture. Must dislike Bush.
Not a fashion victim, and most importantly can distinguish the stupid chick-flicks and the high quality ones.
P.S. Doesn't have Damsel in distress syndrome. Superwoman syndrome is higly welcomed.
How about that?
My roommate moved a year ago back to the other side of the world. I moved out from my 'hood and my friends.
And now, I have no girlfriends.
I mean, I have girlfriends, but not the one that I can physically meet up easily for Sunday brunch or something.
And now, I haven't called my boyfriend since afternoon, I don't know where he is, I think his cellphone is dead and he told me that he's going to be out but I think his business is not done yet.
Then, it dawn to me, that my boyfriend has been bearing the double duty as my galpal.
Although, I don't exactly push him to go into Victoria Secret spent hours there.
And besides, I think sometimes I got the feeling that he doesn't really 'get it' when I talked about some issues, like my bitching out about how my day went, or when I was being PMSy and sensitive and cranky. But he does try to fill that role.
But now I'm wondering if I'm pushing my luck too far.
And if he has too much of me.
I guess I'll never know, because he would say no. And I would always wonder if that's the truth.
Ideally, I should find some girlfriends. And I should run an ad, just like those people in craigslist.org.
And when I manage to stir the courage to do so, I imagine the ad should say something like this:
Looking for a gal pal, who's witty, bitchy, spunky. Doesn't like boy bands. Likes to eat out and doesn't count calories on everything. Non smoker, loves autumn and animals. A good listener, a good debater and opinionated, in a good way.
Only need a liiiiittle time to dress up, take a shower and put on the make up.
Likes watching TV. Have good knowledge on pop culture. Must dislike Bush.
Not a fashion victim, and most importantly can distinguish the stupid chick-flicks and the high quality ones.
P.S. Doesn't have Damsel in distress syndrome. Superwoman syndrome is higly welcomed.
How about that?
Wednesday, April 19, 2006
Tom Attack Reloaded
Eeeeeeng...
Man!
Apparently, if your life is touched by television, internet, radio and or newspapers, I BETCHA by now you already know that the Tom & Katie's baby was born yesterday.
It was allll over the news. I really can feel the deja vu attack back in the time when they first got together and did the same damage to my couch-potato time.
Sigh... anyway, I'm sticking with home and garden channel for a few days before I dare to move back to E entertainment.
I mean, who cares if Katie is having a 'silent birth'? Or if that very same day at the very same hospital, Brooke Shields (Tom's rivalry when it comes down to anti-depressant drugs) also delivered her baby.
See?
Do you see that?
I don't want to know about this, and yet, sadly, I do.
Why?
Because I've been shoved all this information from everywhere.
Is it really a rating booster?
Does people really want to know what the baby's name means in Hebrew?
Anyway... I need another hobby besides watching TV.
Knitting?
Bingo?
Any ideas?
Man!
Apparently, if your life is touched by television, internet, radio and or newspapers, I BETCHA by now you already know that the Tom & Katie's baby was born yesterday.
It was allll over the news. I really can feel the deja vu attack back in the time when they first got together and did the same damage to my couch-potato time.
Sigh... anyway, I'm sticking with home and garden channel for a few days before I dare to move back to E entertainment.
I mean, who cares if Katie is having a 'silent birth'? Or if that very same day at the very same hospital, Brooke Shields (Tom's rivalry when it comes down to anti-depressant drugs) also delivered her baby.
See?
Do you see that?
I don't want to know about this, and yet, sadly, I do.
Why?
Because I've been shoved all this information from everywhere.
Is it really a rating booster?
Does people really want to know what the baby's name means in Hebrew?
Anyway... I need another hobby besides watching TV.
Knitting?
Bingo?
Any ideas?
Wednesday, April 12, 2006
Guilty. I voted for American Idol
I voted for Elliot Yamin. Upon request from my best girlfriend back in Indonesia.
Yep, shameless as a starstruck teenager, I dialed and dialed, until my boyfriend called me and I got distracted.
I voted for 14 times (or so) and I already felt like I have contributed a lot for the dude.
And he still got to the bottom three.
What a voter gotta do?
Anyway, you see, I don't usually vote.
I don't vote for American Idol, I don't want to be in the crowd. Be generic. Join the hype. This is so not like me, the ignorant, antisocial, careless, cynical bitch.
But this guy, he is okay.
And what made me easily agreed to vote for him is one simple fact.
About maybe 5-6 weeks ago, he sang Moody's Mood.
That's it. One of my favorite songs in this planet (search it, it's worth your time, or send me a message I will send it to you).
So, anyone who sang the whole song of Moody's mood and succeeded without being pitchy, deserves my vote.
Because I know from the many times I sang that song in the shower.
I sucked!
That song is hard to sing.
Anyhow, though, here is my reality check about American Idol: Elliot Yamin will not win. Why? Because he is not bad-boyish, handsome or tall enough.
Can he sing?
Yes, he damn well can, and so does Mendisa in this matter, who got booted off last week.
But should this be a contest about singing talent?
No, this is a thug of war contest of whose fans' fingers dial the fastest.
Plus, I know that there's a community whose whole purpose is to vote the worst singers. Maybe that's why that juvenile contestant who looks like Chicken Little lasted that far.
So who might win? It doesn't matter.
I think who will win is FOX Network Executives.
And Cingular as the phone network provider.
And I'm one of the victims, who next week will still be voting again, as appreciation for the singer of Moody's Mood, even though it might not matter at all.
To see the 'moody's mood' performance: click here
Yep, shameless as a starstruck teenager, I dialed and dialed, until my boyfriend called me and I got distracted.
I voted for 14 times (or so) and I already felt like I have contributed a lot for the dude.
And he still got to the bottom three.
What a voter gotta do?
Anyway, you see, I don't usually vote.
I don't vote for American Idol, I don't want to be in the crowd. Be generic. Join the hype. This is so not like me, the ignorant, antisocial, careless, cynical bitch.
But this guy, he is okay.
And what made me easily agreed to vote for him is one simple fact.
About maybe 5-6 weeks ago, he sang Moody's Mood.
That's it. One of my favorite songs in this planet (search it, it's worth your time, or send me a message I will send it to you).
So, anyone who sang the whole song of Moody's mood and succeeded without being pitchy, deserves my vote.
Because I know from the many times I sang that song in the shower.
I sucked!
That song is hard to sing.
Anyhow, though, here is my reality check about American Idol: Elliot Yamin will not win. Why? Because he is not bad-boyish, handsome or tall enough.
Can he sing?
Yes, he damn well can, and so does Mendisa in this matter, who got booted off last week.
But should this be a contest about singing talent?
No, this is a thug of war contest of whose fans' fingers dial the fastest.
Plus, I know that there's a community whose whole purpose is to vote the worst singers. Maybe that's why that juvenile contestant who looks like Chicken Little lasted that far.
So who might win? It doesn't matter.
I think who will win is FOX Network Executives.
And Cingular as the phone network provider.
And I'm one of the victims, who next week will still be voting again, as appreciation for the singer of Moody's Mood, even though it might not matter at all.
To see the 'moody's mood' performance: click here
Sunday, April 02, 2006
My very own JFK Jr.
Never in my romance life would I thought that my parents who have very high expectation to all to the boyfriends I have had (which, by the way, not much), would approve a guy to marry me.
This topic might seem a little jaded since I've been engaged for almost a year now. But I have had the hardest time with them since their first reaction to all of them has always been the same, which is: NO. We do not approve.
My parents wished someone stable for me, independent, a gentleman, love me obsessively, faithful, a Catholic, have short hair (I once had a boyfriend with long hair, I didn't like it, but apparently, my mom hated it even more), came from a nice family, well-educated, good-look is a plus, preferably a little bit older than me (and by the way, I've never dated anyone older than me, isn't weird?), and so on, and so on.
I remember telling my roommate once, with that criteria, then I might have a chance if I date John F Kennedy Jr. But he got lost in the sea. Plus he's married anyway. And, I'm not sure if he loves me obsessively since we never met, and the faithful part is kinda questionable.
Then, came my fiance, he is not even Catholic (gasssppp!!), he's a few months younger than me (that's strike two already), and many more questions were risen.
But, after all the commotion, and they met on Summer 2004, I don't know how he won them, but now, when they sends gifts from Indonesia, he gets more stuff then me.
My dad sends text messages to him every once in a while. My mom asks about him all the time.
I mean, how the heck does that happen?
It seems like they are very fond of him.
Like yesterday, they sent him 2 shirts, 4 Adidas hats, a Brazil soccer wrist band, and what do I get?
Nutin'
Nada.
Zero.
I think I'm going to veto the wrist band.
Apparently, he is my parents' version of John F Kennedy Jr.
This topic might seem a little jaded since I've been engaged for almost a year now. But I have had the hardest time with them since their first reaction to all of them has always been the same, which is: NO. We do not approve.
My parents wished someone stable for me, independent, a gentleman, love me obsessively, faithful, a Catholic, have short hair (I once had a boyfriend with long hair, I didn't like it, but apparently, my mom hated it even more), came from a nice family, well-educated, good-look is a plus, preferably a little bit older than me (and by the way, I've never dated anyone older than me, isn't weird?), and so on, and so on.
I remember telling my roommate once, with that criteria, then I might have a chance if I date John F Kennedy Jr. But he got lost in the sea. Plus he's married anyway. And, I'm not sure if he loves me obsessively since we never met, and the faithful part is kinda questionable.
Then, came my fiance, he is not even Catholic (gasssppp!!), he's a few months younger than me (that's strike two already), and many more questions were risen.
But, after all the commotion, and they met on Summer 2004, I don't know how he won them, but now, when they sends gifts from Indonesia, he gets more stuff then me.
My dad sends text messages to him every once in a while. My mom asks about him all the time.
I mean, how the heck does that happen?
It seems like they are very fond of him.
Like yesterday, they sent him 2 shirts, 4 Adidas hats, a Brazil soccer wrist band, and what do I get?
Nutin'
Nada.
Zero.
I think I'm going to veto the wrist band.
Apparently, he is my parents' version of John F Kennedy Jr.
Saturday, April 01, 2006
Let me be a loner
I notice that I have turned into a total antisocial. Especially since I don't have a roommate and I don't have any friends in the area, now that I'm in the suburb.
And I find it amazing how I don't feel the urge to find new friends. I'm most comfortable with the friends I have downtown (and half around the world), which by the way are very very few. And I don't even get in touch with them that much at all.
A friend, who is the most enthusiastic in introducing me with his friends is almost in a desperate - if not angry - state because I always refuse to come to their get together.
Why does he insist on me meeting them?
It is my right not the be pushed around being introduced to people while I don't feel the thrill or the enjoyment to meet them. Some people like meeting new friends and, hey, more power to them if they do, but that's not me.
Do I sound arrogant?
But think about it. Being arrogant is if I don't want to meet them because I feel superior and I think that my 'level' is above them. Which I do not.
I think they are just fine. I just have a very huge personal bubble.
I wish more people would just understand and let me be.
And please don't call me strange.
I try to analyze if I'm scared of meeting new people. The thing is I don't think so.
I went to social events when I want to. If a friend is having a baby shower, or a Christmas party, or if there's food involved, and I feel like going, then I'd go. I arranged the chinese new year's eve dinner with of my friends, though I (and my boyfriend) were the only two who were celebrating. So I really think I'm fine.
I'm just a person who really enjoys spending her free time not interacting too much with other human beings.
I'm a loner.
And I am happy of who I am.
And I find it amazing how I don't feel the urge to find new friends. I'm most comfortable with the friends I have downtown (and half around the world), which by the way are very very few. And I don't even get in touch with them that much at all.
A friend, who is the most enthusiastic in introducing me with his friends is almost in a desperate - if not angry - state because I always refuse to come to their get together.
Why does he insist on me meeting them?
It is my right not the be pushed around being introduced to people while I don't feel the thrill or the enjoyment to meet them. Some people like meeting new friends and, hey, more power to them if they do, but that's not me.
Do I sound arrogant?
But think about it. Being arrogant is if I don't want to meet them because I feel superior and I think that my 'level' is above them. Which I do not.
I think they are just fine. I just have a very huge personal bubble.
I wish more people would just understand and let me be.
And please don't call me strange.
I try to analyze if I'm scared of meeting new people. The thing is I don't think so.
I went to social events when I want to. If a friend is having a baby shower, or a Christmas party, or if there's food involved, and I feel like going, then I'd go. I arranged the chinese new year's eve dinner with of my friends, though I (and my boyfriend) were the only two who were celebrating. So I really think I'm fine.
I'm just a person who really enjoys spending her free time not interacting too much with other human beings.
I'm a loner.
And I am happy of who I am.
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