July 6, 2007
It’s official. When I signed that contract for an 18 month class in addition to the car mortgage – I have become a certified card carrying member of the “I have no life” association.
The only rest I would probably savor is a trip to the bathroom when work goes haywire – those precious minutes on a throne mulling over dinner and that temporary lapse of comfort you feel with the release – your eyes glazed and staring into the wall. Nary a thought dare interfere with that moment of peace.
Summer’s a bit flexible with the long days and short nights – but who can actually do anything in this California heat?
But Rob, my favorite seer, had positive things to say about the aftermath. So while a new friend was dying back my hair into a smart brunette, I in true Pavlovian fashion, was salivating at what good things I can actually reap after 2 years of sacrifice. So much for delayed gratification.
For the next few months will mean a vicious circle of work, study, chores and rest with no possibility of succumbing to a painting obsession or even prolonged leisure. Everything will have to be a quickie – even love. Thank heavens we’re in drive-through heaven. Ditto for recycling.
This is what one would call detox hell. But let’s face it – detox is basically letting go of bad relationships – with your food, your alcohol, your pills, your obsessions. And being able to get through the day without a dollop of your favorite fix – in my case – candy. Eye candy, arm candy, whatever candy you can think of.
It’s the same banana - Uhh, I’ll have that frozen with a caramel frosting, thank you. Let’s not even go into ice cream…
Monday, November 9, 2009
Coasting
My newfound friend and editor from Indiana emailed a week ago asking for my next blog and I am at a loss if I should wax poetic about Singapore’s anal tendencies, or review Tom Cruise’s escapade at Zhou Zyang village near Shanghai in his last MI-3 movie. What would you guys want me to talk about? Let me know. My deadline’s due.
I am preoccupied by conservation, wannabe green girl that I am. Had I been a baby boomer – I would have fit in perfectly with Jeff’s San Francisco and Santa Cruz crowd – the latter somehow fascinating to an ex-IT disciple whose beginnings in the industry tied in with the advent of SCO Unix and other Silicon Valley fads. At the rate I am unraveling my career direction, I am just so happy that I have an anal elder sister, so I can go my merry way and unravel, into what I have yet to know. Discounting her generosity, there’s always the option to shack up in the North with other relatives who would simply shake their heads at my pothead sensibilities but let me be me, nonetheless.
I am a month into my nursing – discounted by one friend in Manila as too bourgeois for Ateneans like us. Now, this only adds to my confusion – Ateneans are just as obsessed with money, ergo, I am obsessed with money. Being obsessed with money is a proletarian occupation – entonces – Ateneans are just as bourgeois as the next La Sallite. This train of thought is making me nervous – I don’t wanna lose my Blue Eagle card. Nor do I want to incur the ire of noteworthy Lasallites like Mari.
At any rate, I always thought my fellow Ateneans are sometimes full of shit if not geeky so I always dated guys from the other camp. I didn’t have to think so hard between mouthfuls of tacos and gulps from a pitcher of Zombie at Tia Maria’s.
I am preoccupied by conservation, wannabe green girl that I am. Had I been a baby boomer – I would have fit in perfectly with Jeff’s San Francisco and Santa Cruz crowd – the latter somehow fascinating to an ex-IT disciple whose beginnings in the industry tied in with the advent of SCO Unix and other Silicon Valley fads. At the rate I am unraveling my career direction, I am just so happy that I have an anal elder sister, so I can go my merry way and unravel, into what I have yet to know. Discounting her generosity, there’s always the option to shack up in the North with other relatives who would simply shake their heads at my pothead sensibilities but let me be me, nonetheless.
I am a month into my nursing – discounted by one friend in Manila as too bourgeois for Ateneans like us. Now, this only adds to my confusion – Ateneans are just as obsessed with money, ergo, I am obsessed with money. Being obsessed with money is a proletarian occupation – entonces – Ateneans are just as bourgeois as the next La Sallite. This train of thought is making me nervous – I don’t wanna lose my Blue Eagle card. Nor do I want to incur the ire of noteworthy Lasallites like Mari.
At any rate, I always thought my fellow Ateneans are sometimes full of shit if not geeky so I always dated guys from the other camp. I didn’t have to think so hard between mouthfuls of tacos and gulps from a pitcher of Zombie at Tia Maria’s.
On Buying the Whole Cow
A sweet reminder from a rocker friend who sweeps into my life now and then with a naughty repartee . . .
"In case you missed it on 60 Minutes, this is what Andy Rooney thinks about women over 40:
A woman over 40 will never wake you in the middle of the night and ask, "What are you thinking?" She doesn't care what you think. If a woman over 40 doesn't want to watch the game, she doesn't sit around whining about it. She does something she wants to do, and it's usually more interesting.
Women over 40 are dignified. They seldom have a screaming match with you at the opera or in the middle of an expensive restaurant. Of course, if you deserve it, they won't hesitate to shoot you if they think they can get away with it. Older women are generous with praise, often undeserved. They know what it's like to be unappreciated. Women get psychic as they age. You never have to confess your sins to a woman over 40. Once you get past a wrinkle or two, a woman over 40 is far sexier than her younger counterpart. Older women are forthright and honest. They'll tell you right off that you are a jerk if you are acting like one. You don't ever have to wonder where you stand with her.
Yes, we praise women over 40 for a multitude of reasons. Unfortunately, it's not reciprocal. For every stunning, smart, well-coiffed, hot woman over 40, there is a bald, paunchy relic in yellow pants making a fool of himself with some 22-year old waitress. Ladies, I apologize. For all those men who say, "Why buy the cow when you can get the milk for free?", here's an update for you. Nowadays 80% of women are against marriage. Why? Because women realize it's not worth buying an entire pig just to get a little sausage!"
"In case you missed it on 60 Minutes, this is what Andy Rooney thinks about women over 40:
A woman over 40 will never wake you in the middle of the night and ask, "What are you thinking?" She doesn't care what you think. If a woman over 40 doesn't want to watch the game, she doesn't sit around whining about it. She does something she wants to do, and it's usually more interesting.
Women over 40 are dignified. They seldom have a screaming match with you at the opera or in the middle of an expensive restaurant. Of course, if you deserve it, they won't hesitate to shoot you if they think they can get away with it. Older women are generous with praise, often undeserved. They know what it's like to be unappreciated. Women get psychic as they age. You never have to confess your sins to a woman over 40. Once you get past a wrinkle or two, a woman over 40 is far sexier than her younger counterpart. Older women are forthright and honest. They'll tell you right off that you are a jerk if you are acting like one. You don't ever have to wonder where you stand with her.
Yes, we praise women over 40 for a multitude of reasons. Unfortunately, it's not reciprocal. For every stunning, smart, well-coiffed, hot woman over 40, there is a bald, paunchy relic in yellow pants making a fool of himself with some 22-year old waitress. Ladies, I apologize. For all those men who say, "Why buy the cow when you can get the milk for free?", here's an update for you. Nowadays 80% of women are against marriage. Why? Because women realize it's not worth buying an entire pig just to get a little sausage!"
Matchmaking for Women
The Millionaire Matchmaker provides a reality bite that women over 40 should consider. The show and the business works on a sound business model - millionaires who are too busy to find wives and girlfriends use the service to find the perfect girl and they pay the agency a certain commission for the effort. It works to a certain extent, because the proprietor, though in many ways aware and accepting of men's tendencies, tries to find a match in the traditional way, and tries to focus or refocus men with ADD's to the intangibles in women - that of companionship, intelligence and wit, experience. Secondary to looks and youth. The latter, of course, wins at the end of the day. Perhaps, by dating women half their age, the process of osmosis will work, and they would get younger by a decade.
Several isms come to mind. Recall - Nigel, a multi-millionaire with a string of hospitals in UK who once dated a close friend, said let's be honest and admit that love enters through the eyes. And there was my German friend who came up to scratch because he was a tush man and he liked mine, thank you. Men will always be focused on the physical, because that is the nature of the beast. And youth - being a major component of beauty, will continue to fascinate them and their dongs, no matter how cognizant they are of the need for some conversation, that hello, of course, a twenty year old vixen cannot possibly have.
How shallow were you when you were 20? I had 4 years of philosophy by the time I was that age but definitely, my attention was riveted to the hunk in the university basketball team and to the cute nerdy guy in my English class. Who gave a shit about Feuerbach and Hegel? And what the hell did I know about the 5 S's of wine appreciation? I was swilling Red Horse beer on a budget. So let's be more forgiving of the girls we were once, and instead reverse the entire dating process.
Inasmuch as the entire male population is morphing itself and cultivating its feminine side, resulting into the emergence of metrosexuals, women should be meeting them halfway and should be taking on male traits - being a lipstick lesbian can be a choice but there's still the female version of the metro.
Which means that for a woman of a certain age, she should as well be entering the dating and matchmaking game as the businesswoman she is in real life - with a defined set of requirements and money to spend on commissions. As well as great patience - because her requirements, like that of her male counterpart, are just as unrealistic - c'mon, a six pack on a 40 year old is hard to come by if he has to come with money of course. So you go younger, less mature and more fun. Pretty boys grow as fast as hot girls in the emotional and intellectual department. That is a fact. And they are just as expensive...
Several isms come to mind. Recall - Nigel, a multi-millionaire with a string of hospitals in UK who once dated a close friend, said let's be honest and admit that love enters through the eyes. And there was my German friend who came up to scratch because he was a tush man and he liked mine, thank you. Men will always be focused on the physical, because that is the nature of the beast. And youth - being a major component of beauty, will continue to fascinate them and their dongs, no matter how cognizant they are of the need for some conversation, that hello, of course, a twenty year old vixen cannot possibly have.
How shallow were you when you were 20? I had 4 years of philosophy by the time I was that age but definitely, my attention was riveted to the hunk in the university basketball team and to the cute nerdy guy in my English class. Who gave a shit about Feuerbach and Hegel? And what the hell did I know about the 5 S's of wine appreciation? I was swilling Red Horse beer on a budget. So let's be more forgiving of the girls we were once, and instead reverse the entire dating process.
Inasmuch as the entire male population is morphing itself and cultivating its feminine side, resulting into the emergence of metrosexuals, women should be meeting them halfway and should be taking on male traits - being a lipstick lesbian can be a choice but there's still the female version of the metro.
Which means that for a woman of a certain age, she should as well be entering the dating and matchmaking game as the businesswoman she is in real life - with a defined set of requirements and money to spend on commissions. As well as great patience - because her requirements, like that of her male counterpart, are just as unrealistic - c'mon, a six pack on a 40 year old is hard to come by if he has to come with money of course. So you go younger, less mature and more fun. Pretty boys grow as fast as hot girls in the emotional and intellectual department. That is a fact. And they are just as expensive...
All I Want for Christmas is a Home Depot Card
The opthalmologist was laughing when he said I've hit the big 4-oh which is why I have to position the damn paper 16 inches away in order to read it. Ef! So off I go and grudgingly shelled out 27 bucks to get horn rimmed reading glasses - rated at x1. And this got my twisted mind thinking again - does failing eyesight (presbyopia) affect one's sexual prowess - if I get dizzy fixing bows and ribbons when they're too close to my face - would giving head pose a problem? I have yet to know.
At any rate, the season is frantically too busy to think of anything else but I got a tip for the single gals who have done the rounds of the Whole Foods and Trader Joe's and gyms and juice bars - ladies, it's raining men at the Home Depot !!! At least I'd say the real men are - unkempt, messy hair, brawny and big capable hands - no wonder soccer moms think the handy man is hot!!!
So I was moseying down the nuts and bolts section the other day for some hooks and this tall white guy flashed his beeeg pearly whites at me and said Hello, how you doin'. For a minute I didnt think he was talking to me - I was in my scrubs, my face was squeaky clean sans make up and my brows were badly in need of waxing - but he cocked his head waiting for a reply so I guess, yeah, he was talking to me. Who dresses up in clean blue jeans and a linen shirt for Home Depot these days? He did. And the Latin gardeners are looking hot as well. On my worst hair day, I got 3 fairly good ones (last one by the parking lot) if I bothered to pursue them - that's over a hundred percent more than 2 weeks worth of trolling at Ballys.
At any rate, men who frequent the Home Depot would know a thing or two about home improvement - so there, that should be enough incentive.
At any rate, the season is frantically too busy to think of anything else but I got a tip for the single gals who have done the rounds of the Whole Foods and Trader Joe's and gyms and juice bars - ladies, it's raining men at the Home Depot !!! At least I'd say the real men are - unkempt, messy hair, brawny and big capable hands - no wonder soccer moms think the handy man is hot!!!
So I was moseying down the nuts and bolts section the other day for some hooks and this tall white guy flashed his beeeg pearly whites at me and said Hello, how you doin'. For a minute I didnt think he was talking to me - I was in my scrubs, my face was squeaky clean sans make up and my brows were badly in need of waxing - but he cocked his head waiting for a reply so I guess, yeah, he was talking to me. Who dresses up in clean blue jeans and a linen shirt for Home Depot these days? He did. And the Latin gardeners are looking hot as well. On my worst hair day, I got 3 fairly good ones (last one by the parking lot) if I bothered to pursue them - that's over a hundred percent more than 2 weeks worth of trolling at Ballys.
At any rate, men who frequent the Home Depot would know a thing or two about home improvement - so there, that should be enough incentive.
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