Bye bye Greg

Greg Maddux is leaving Chicago.
Now, first of all... what do I know about baseball anyway? Besides all the rambling from my boyfriend about his frustration on his beloved Chicago Cubs.
I don't consider myself to be a baseball fan, and I might not be writing this right, but one thing I know is that I think Chicago Tribune sucks. For a company that owns and runs a major league baseball team, it should run it as a fan. Rooting for it, bet their lives against it, rather than keep on trading people to get... what? A better deal? It's all back to the money, huh?
Chicago tribune doesn't give a damn whether the club loses or not. All they know is that, sucks or not, the Cubs is a well oiled machine. It's a garden beer, might be the only place where you can drink in broad daylight without anyone judging you.
I'm pissed.
I'm very upset.
I don't even know why I'm upset.
Maybe also because Greg Maddux is one of the coolest, most good looking pitcher I've ever seen.
Sigh...
And the curse continues...
Bring in the goat.

Inked Up?

"... Maybe you can stop by and get inked up. Cool?"

An ex-coworker, emailed me and asked if I want to join her tattoo party.

I don't think I will ever want to get 'inked up'. I used to think I want one, but then my boyfriend said, if I get one, he might get one too. Not sure if he's joking or not, but the thought of my boyfriend get 'inked up' is not necessarily thrilling, I like him tattoo-less.
Besides, there's a needle involved in the process. Not a big fan of poking myself unnecessarily.

I once asked a friend whose boyfriend had several tattoo and one of them was a dragon: " Have you ever think that when he gets old, the dragon might shrink into a worm?"
I really think it was a legitimate question, but she laugh out loud thinking it was a joke.

Well, anyway,... another weekend went by and I, the slave, will have to start again tomorrow.
Sigh, the joy of being an adult.

I remember campus.
Not the one in Chicago.
But the one on the other side of the world.
I had long hair, then I cut it short.
I remember sleepless night before presentations.
I was never a public speaker. I knew what to say, but the silence got in the way. Froze my words.
I remember scheduled Saturday calls, with a high school sweetheart. I sent him letters.
He sent me tapes.
I loved him. But then I grew apart. Adulthood crawled in and shoved me questions after questions.
Doubt after doubt.
Then I stopped loving him. I loved someone else.
I cared, but no longer loved.

I remember feeling guilty. I let him still called me once in a while.
Drunken with alcohol and emotion. Called me names, profanity, breaking appliances, then hung up on me.
I bore it, because I crushed him, and hence, I deserved it.
Then I got heartbroken.
Karma came instantly.
I was tired of deception, arguments, anger, tears and courtship.
I remember I swore off men.
And I went away from it all. Started fresh in a tiny empty apartment with a view to a parking lot.

I started with 2 friends. Both picked me up at the airport.
Six luggages.
I sent my parents home and I didn't cry.
Then I have another friend. And old acquaintance.
He called for old time sake. Then we met up.
I remember going to the lakeside. All I talked was my heart and how it scarred.
He's a good listener. Mainly because, he didn't judge. Didn't take side. He just sat and listened.
Then we all start having weekly fun, me, him and another old friend. We were best friends. We still are.

I remembered ended any form of communication from the past.
I was done mourning.
I also remembered noticing one morning that I was no longer angry. No longer in pain. No longer hating.
I read somewhere a long long time ago: The opposite of love is not hate. It's ignorance.
I no longer hated him.
I just didn't care anymore.

Then one boring day, I randomly chatted with someone.
Amazingly we had something in common.
My high school sweetheart.
Then the mystery was revealed. He wasn't faithful anyway.
Parties and girls.
To think about all the blame I bore myself of that breakup, bore his anger by the phone. All the name callings.
I was angry but relieved. Life is weird, I hadn't even been in any chat room in years but that day.
So he deserved being dump after all.

Then I remember enjoying being single.
Single-hood is awesome. I don't get why some people get nervous being single.
Then almost after a year, I remember a first kiss after the third bottle.
Then dates.
Puzzled on why he didn't sway and swoon me with words.
Amazed by how I could still feel he cared.
That was new for me. I couldn't explain.
I remember ice skating, drowning in the city lights. Picnic by the lake shore. Learning guitar.
I remember feeling loved and most importantly, happy.
I think I know why fate let me had all that heartbreaks.
So I get smarter and smarter when choosing for 'the one'. It is tricky. Sometimes we are blinded by the bling bling from outside, mislead and we overlook the inside.
But not anymore.

I have graduated.
I got an A.
A plus.

Chain of Thoughts

So, Okay, last weekend might be one of the weirdest weekend I've ever had, though, alas, I can't really completely reveal why it was so damn surreal but exiting and tense and interesting.
I, for the first time paid attention to that Hummer commercial. Guess what their motto is.
"Restore your Manhood"
Hahaha... I'm sorry, it feels like Hummer actually implies that it is the ultimate panacea of your manhood problem.
Buy it. Then you're a stud.
Funny enough that I once read somewhere that the more you show off about your car, the bigger problem you have inside. Because the big car, is the compensation of what you are lacking of.
Got it?
Wink.
Do you really want to buy a car that implies that you are trying to "restore your manhood"?
Anyway,... I went to a friend's place and weight myself in the bathroom (because I'm too afraid to buy myself one and get obsessive over it).
And Oh... holy cow...
I AM a cow.
I really need to get some exercise and cut down on dim sum. Seriously. I think that's what killing me the most. Chinese food. Oh how I luuuvvv dim sum. And I don't exercise. Bad. Baaaaad.
The mystery of my shrinking pants was revealed. They didn't shrink. I expanded.
Bloody hell...
Someone promised not to touch alcohol again. Ever. EVER. And I have to respect that and drink all the booze by myself. But what is the fun of drinking by myself? I'll find out.
And lastly, I hurt my right arm and wrist playing too much PS2. My wicked boyfriend played halfway and when it got to the difficult part, he went home and asked me to finish it up. Nice. So I played and played, and got butchered, over and over and over again.
Now I think I have carpal tunnel. It's either that, or I am a hypochondriac, because I also think that I am an obsessive compulsive, anemic and have arthritis.

I forgot how complicated the procedure of dressing up can be.
I went to my boyfriend's friend wedding last Saturday & found it very tedious to dress up.
Maybe this year, that was the only time I used foundation and compact powder.
And I underestimated how long it would take me to dress up and when my boyfriend came, I'm not entirely ready. Psst... I got carried away chatting with a couple of girlfriends.
So the commotion went like this:
Shower (duh!)
Pedicured
Filed finger nails
Dried hair: pulled straight... changed mind,... took out curling iron. Got the bigger roll... didn't work as expected. Get the smaller roll. Waited in vain for 15 minutes... then realized: the switch was off. Switched it on.
Continued with pedicure.
Lotion. Lots and lots of lotion.
Looked for foundation. Scrutinized if there is an expiry date. Nope. Good. Shall I take the chance? Hell yes, there's no time to go to dept store now.
Applied foundation.
Brushed powder.
Defined eyebrows. Then realized I haven't plucked my eyebrows. Nice. Plucked eyebrow. Wondered why that my non-existent eyebrows decided to showed up together when I don't need them to show up.
Eyeshadow session.
Applied cheek blush.
Eyeliner. Held breath. Pray that I wouldn't sneeze when applying.
Mascara.
Lipstick.
Now, back to hair.
Curled, section by section. This was maybe the only time I was kinda annoyed I have so much hair.
Hairspray.
Get dressed.
Boyfriend buzzed from downstairs. Buzzed him in.
Looked for purse. Found purse. It's so small, my wallet didn't make it through.
Asked the classic question: How do I look?
Boyfriend gave the classic answer: Fabulous.
Perfume. not too much. I don't want to kill the crowd. Just enough to let people know I don't stink.
All this activities made break into sweat. My face started shining from it.
Re-applied powder.
Decided to bring the whole make-up pouch.
Grab shoes. Grab purse.
Run out from the apartment.
...
Wishing I was a man and thought of what I could have skipped the whole morning.

Maid of Honor

Before continuing this entry, I should just say, that I just scratched out all my closest male friends.
Anybody who are not willing to wear a dress will not be my maid of honor.
Period.
Plus even if they do, I think I don't want them to.

So, one of the important things I need to consider is who will be my maid of honor?
I asked a coworker for what is common and who hers was. She said: her sister.
Well, I can't ask my sister because I don't think she cares, plus my sister is 7 years older, she won't be the kind who would get giddy, be all peachy about this. She might even ask: Does this mean more work for me?
Yeah... she's the tomboy kind, plus with two kids who are constantly running and jumping around and fighting and screaming and sigh... I don't know what else, I really really don't think she's up for it.
Don't get me wrong, I know she loves me, but she is more like a male than female. NO pun intended. That's fact. I don't think her right side of brain is really working.
And so,... that leaves me my friends.
I have a bunch of friends. Well, little bunch because I'm somewhat an antisocial. But I have really close friends that are as good a sisters. Friends who've been through all the periods of my all of my ex boyfriends (till the current one), the singlehood period, the dating period till the engagement period. People who chanted my boyfriend's name hoping that I would subconsciously fell for him. People who cheered when we finally officially dating, and people who think I have a good catch. And of course, people who (with dial-up connections) logged on for emergency chatting sessions. Yes, you know who you are.
And there is also this one person, whose sincere friendship initiated her gesture to offer her place for me to crash for two months before we moved into a bigger place, lied to some people to save my ass (hah! That's all I'm going to reveal), back me out in practically everything, and despite what she always said that she bugged me and my boyfriend on our dates, she never realizes that when she left, we missed her companionship dearly. You know that cricket sound often times played as the back sound in movies to emphasize quietness? Yeah, imagine that with me and my boyfriend sitting in the sofa looking blankly to each other.
If this 'maid' should be an honorable one, then I have plenty of girlfriends. But if I have to pick one, then she is the one.
That senorita is my good old roommate.
I have asked, and she said yes. Yay!
Now,... roomie, one of us should stay sober at the bachelorette party. I'll wear that bachelorette tiara and veil, but should we do rock paper scissor for the booze? Let's have a series of apple martinis (or pina coladas for you) and dance along the old-skool beat.