The Night I Saw A Damaso Shirt

When: October 7, 2010

One moonlit night, I saw a Damaso shirt being displayed at The Reading Room in Cubao Expo. 

Padre Damaso is a character in Jose Rizal’s Noli Me Tangere. He is one of the most notorious characters in the novel, which revolves around the abuses of Spanish friars during the 19th century. So Filipino 3 in HS and Life and Works of Jose Rizal in college, right? I thought so. Seriously, Damaso shirts are being sold around the metro to support Carlos Celdran. 

I'm not really keen in following news tidbits nowadays. At home, one can find me curling up with a no-brainer book or simply blogging while listening to pop music. Then trip to dreamland will immediately follow. But one intriguing news awakened the Curious George in me. Interesting topics were contained in a single news report -  Carlos Celdran, Padre Damaso, Manila Cathedral and, last but not the least, RH bill.

I'm not the type to discuss in-depth and geeky info about those topics because any Curious George can simply google them all up. In my shaky world called contemplation, these topics certainly deserve some tribute. What sort of tribute, one may ask. A tribute to college memories, hence this post. College pertains to the stage in my life where idealism comes in tremendous waves. Although I was a bit unsure of what I could possibly do back then, idealism was always present in my heart and soul. Various college scenes were revealed to me in flashes, and the ending is the present me.

For the life of me, I forgot to ask how much it costs. Boo hoo.

At the back of my head, I could hear my younger self saying, "Remember when you're in college? You were so much idealistic and more artsy then!" 

Oh Damaso shirt, you've surely made me feel young and idealistic once again!

The Reading Room

Cubao Expo

General Romulo Araneta Avenue

Araneta Center

Spotted On My Desk: Zen Tea

Pearl milk tea or nai cha (Php 45, large size)

My trips to HK and Macau (last February & June) this year gave me a high due to my love affair with milk tea and chewy black tapioca pearls. However, a spontaneous craving for milk tea one hot mid-day led me to disappointment. I just laughed off my purchase blooper. I could've settled well with Lipton Milk Tea. I was thankful that it was not that expensive since the taste was an unsuccessful imitation of the real nai cha. Yes, Zen Tea was that bad. Tsk.

Addicted to Mango Juice

I'm starting to love mango juice and I feel the need to love it forever. Reason? Our tropical weather. Strong rays of sun would greet us in the morning, then rain showers will pour down mid-afternoon. So, my solution is to load up with Vitamin C everyday.

Presenting my weapons against the bad, bad weather

I was browsing the grocery shelves when an amusing thought to try all the mango juice brands came up. Oh, before I grab the pull-tab of my first can of the week, I lined them all up and had a quick photoshoot. LOL!

My "Fashionable" Ramadan Experience

Just like any culture in our modernist society, the Muslim culture is filled with colorful, historical value. And I had the rare opportunity of wearing a Muslim traditional dress last 2006. Nope, it's not for some school activity, but the real thing - as a participant in the cultural fashion show in International Ramadan Fair staged in Intramuros Clamshell Tent.

While in law school, I had the chance of meeting people who originated from the south. Yes, they are the people who chose to follow the teachings of Mohammed. It's a matter of really understanding the concept of Islam and their unique culture, and not the wild, wild image that media often depicted. And, maybe because, I spent my childhood in the City of Golden Friendship (read: CDO) in Mindanao where it's commonplace to hear Muslim dialects, complete with rising and falling intonations.

Having spent her life in the political arena in their province, my friend really kept on convincing us (her Christian friends) to join the event as it would be the first International Ramadan Fair in Manila. She told me that I would be wearing a traditional wedding dress of the Muslims in Tawi-tawi, known as "batawi" in the Sama dialect. The "batawi" is normally worn by the women of esteemed heritage (read: royal blood) in their province as a wedding dress and during special occasions. Having that in mind and for the spirit of F-U-N, I instantly said yes! 

Behold our post-cultural fashion show pics.

With heavy make-up, unique costume, foreign and local media clicking their shutters away and some inner bubble of happiness and excitement, it was definitely an unforgettable event with my Muslim friends. And I'd never view the word "Ramadan" the same way again.

Happy Mother's Day!

Meet Ruby, the bida/kontrabida of my life.

Name: Ruby Pineda Borja
Nickname: Baghdad (really)
Status: Happily married with 5 grown-up kids
Date of birth: May 13, 1959
Age when she gave birth to yours truly: 21 years old

Whew! I could never imagine myself being a mother at 21. But Ruby did it. She gave birth to 5 beautiful kids (clears throat) and raised them in her own unique Baghdad way. She may appear to be repetitive in almost eveything (read: nagger) but, in a split second, she will immediately give in to our "counterclaims". She's a toughie and softie combined. She taught me how to be strong and never be ashamed of myself.  She always reminds me that humility and discipline should be part of my system. She delights in my own happiness. She carries half, if not all, of my burden whenever I stumble. She is my staunch supporter, my ego booster, my resident grammarian and more. She is one helluva woman. She's our  family's answer to Gabriela.

Although a cake with the traditional message on top cannot fully express my overwhelming gratitude to her, I cannot also seem to put down in words my appreciation to this remarkable woman. 

A simple greeting which could easily melt a mother's heart would suffice, I guess. After all, she vivifies the word "mother" and lives up to that name even if her eldest (that would be me, guys) is - according to society's standards - old enough to be a mother. LOL!

I owe her my life. She is my one and only Ruby.

I LOVE YOU, MA! HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY!

Spanish Made Easy Yet Funny

So, this post has two points. One is to show that I'm keeping up with my cheap thrills/humor series. The other is to explain that I found a baptismal certificate* circa 1930's of some random Juan dela Cruz in a thrift shop at Cubao Expo, which is an artists' haven and site of weekend flea markets.

A few hours ago, Princess and I were having dinner consisting of penne alla puttanesca, penne alla salciccia and pizza ai gamberi at Bellini's when we decided to explore thrift shops in the area. I did not object at all since I'm actually on a lookout for bestseller novels.

We started rummaging haphazardly on a corner full of vintage books, postcards and handwritten letters, and I gasped in disbelief at my laughable luck.  Two questions loomed large. First of all, why would someone (or the next of kin perhaps) sell his own baptismal certificate? Secondly, was the baptized child (Unless the child chose to be celibate or whatever, I bet the child has his own set of grandchildren today.) aware that the initial proof of his Christianity is being laughed at after 75 years? I never got to see any of my elders' valuable documents, so please indulge me whilst I share this ancient paper that made us laugh hysterically.

I couldn't think of any hypo names, so I replaced the original details with something Pinoy showbiz-y. As expected, the yellowish baptismal certificate (heading: Parroquia del Espiritu Santo, Manila) comes in two languages.

Spanish version:

"El 19 de Mayo 2007 fue bautizad solemnemente o con Agua de Socorro James Aquino Yap Jr. 

Nacid el dia 19 de Abril de 2007 en Ciudad de Makati, hij de James Carlos Yap (nombre del padre), natural de Ciudad de Escalante, Provincia de Negros Occidental y de Kristina Bernadette Cojuangco Aquino (nombre de la madre), natural de Ciudad de Quezon, casados a la casa de Eugenio "Boy" Abunda, Jr.  y vecinos de Ortigas, Ciudad de Pasig.

Abuelos Paternos: Carlos y Annie Yap

Abuelos Maternos: Benigno Jr. y Corazon Aquino

Padrino: Deo Endrinal

Madrina: Lucy Torres-Gomez vecin de Manila.

Persona que dio los nombres: Joshua Aquino

Ministro de Bautismo: _____"  

Filipino version:

"Sa ika 19 ng Mayo 2007 ay nabinyagan sa Simbahan o nabuhusan sa bahay si James Aquino Yap Jr. 

Ipinanganak sa ika 19 ng Abril ng 2007 sa Lungsod ng Makati, anak ni James Carlos Yap (ngalan ng ama), taga Lungsod ng Escalante, Lalawigan ng Negros Occidental at ni Kristina Bernadette Cojuangco Aquino (ngalan ng ina), taga Lungsod Quezon, casal sa bahay ni  Eugenio "Boy" Abunda, Jr. at naninirahan sa Ortigas, Lungsod ng Pasig.

Mga nuno sa ama: Carlos at Annie Yap

Mga nuno sa ina: Benigno Jr. at Corazon Aquino

Inaama: Deo Endrinal

Iniina: Lucy Torres-Gomez at naninirahan sa Manila.

Ang nagpasulat: Joshua Aquino

Ang nagbinyag: _______"

Google yielded negative results as to the priest's name. So there. Nabuhusan sa bahay?! The thrift shop owner even joined us in laughing.

*Php 10=price/laughter=priceless

Do You Find This Sexy?

In Pinoyspeak, I guess this is a runaway winner for nosebleed category. I got this from my law school buddy/ex- housemate's notes in Facebook. It's said to be written by Thomas Urquhart (or Urchard, 1611-c. 1660).

Thus for a while their eloquence was mute, and all they spoke was but with the eye and hand, yet so persuasively, by vertue of the intermutual unlimitedness of their visotactil sensation, that each part and portion of the persons of either was obvious to the sight and touch of the persons of both; the visuriency of either, by ushering the tacturiency of both, made the attrectation of both consequent to the inspection of either. Here it was that passion was active, and action passive, they both being overcome by other, and each the conquerour. To speak of her hirquitalliency at the elevation of the pole of his microcosme, or of his luxuriousness to erect a gnomon on her horizontal dyal, will perhaps be held by some to be expressions full of obscoeness, and offensive to the purity of chaste ears; yet seeing she was to be his wife, and that she could not be such without consummation of marriage, which signifieth the same thing in effect, it may be thought, as definitiones logicae verificantur in rebus, if the exerced act be lawful, that the diction which suppones it, can be of no greater transgression, unless you would call it a solaecisme, or that vice in grammar which imports the copulating of the masculine with the feminine gender.

Some Scottish eh? I wonder how people back then would find this arousing. LOL!

Tuesday Meme Express: Pacman's Vitwater Line

Every Tuesday, The Daily Meme suggests the readers to write a thought provoking meme in honor of the Meme express. On my way to work, I chanced upon a thought-provoking albeit amusing line of our Pambansang Kamao in his Vitwater billboard. Funny, right?

Vitwater and I share a somewhat memorable moment. You know, Vitwater was part of my four (4) Sunday kits last September 2008. Despite the fact that its color made me hesitant to go "bottom's up", I willingly brought a bottle to face the biggest mental battle in my life. So that's the amusing part. And now let's tackle the thought-provoking part. For a few enchanting seconds, I became challenged. With Pacman's face plastered on it and some parallelism*, I think this is part of my baby steps to box** all the imaginary demons along my way and pursue my dream. 

*I dunno what it is really. Peace!

**With the right attitude serving as my gloves

I'm Blogging About: Fruit Shaped Jelly Drink!

 Banana, strawberry, orange, grape and mango shaped jelly drinks

One of the best things about blogging is the freedom from any form of constraint. With this blog, I get to ramble anything about my life especially my cheap thrills. It might be something that is only funny or amusing  to me or simply mundane. 

On my way home, I found this Easy Open Fruit Shape Jelly Jelly (yup, this word was repeated!) Drink at a local drugstore slash convenience store. My original plan was to look for the generic-shaped Jellyace but, for some weird reason, they seemed to be elusive nowadays. Was it just me or it's not that popular anymore? Hahaha! Anyway, these cute fruit-shaped jelly drinks really amused my infantile self. 

As always, I'm looking forward to more fruit inspired shapes from Knotsberry Farm.*

* Oh no, not the theme park and the fruit jam maker. Check the spelling.

Percy Jackson & the Olympians: The Lightning Thief

I had the chance of watching this movie last Saturday in Gateway Mall with my brothers Jobo & Popo and nephew Dave.

But before that, allow me to rave about something lucky. In line with the celebration of  HVD, the Gateway Cinemas came up with some pick-a-prize promo. Two (2) tickets will entitle the ticket holder to pick a prize. Since we have four (4) tickets, we're entitled to pick two prizes. Popo, who proudly claimed that he's a lucky guy, volunteered to fish whatever prize in the bowl. (Fact: He was born on March 8, 1988, and "8" is said to be a lucky number in the Chinese domain.) It was also the eve of KHFC last Saturday, so after a unanimous vote, we let him pick the prize in bowl # 1. True enough, he was able to win two (2) Dairy Queen GCs for (cue suspense music) two Dilly Bars! He's a lucky guy indeed!

Okay, back to the main premise. The film completely reminds me of the famous Harry Potter. You know, a seemingly outcast kid who had an absentee father (HP, however, is orphaned on both sides.) got the biggest surprise when he learned he possessed magical powers. Fantasy stuff in the big screen. Plus, a great reference to Greek mythology was there, and it was enough to keep me wide awake all throughout. And Percy Jackson (PJ for brevity) lived in the Big Apple - a bonus  for me! PJ has Poseidon as his father, so that makes him a demi-god. He can control anything H20. Poor innocent PJ was tagged as the lightning thief by the great Zeus. Zeus told Poseidon that the lightning bolt must be returned to Mount Olympus before the summer solstice (10 days if I'm not mistaken), otherwise a great war will happen.

And boom! The next thing I saw, Pierce Brosnan (the handsomest James Bond I ever know) was on a wheelchair (posing as PJ's Latin teacher) and later a centaur* named Chiron (Camp Half-Blood's resident trainer). It got me thinking, "What have they done to my Pierce?" So PJ was sent to Camp Half-Blood after he witnessed his mother vanished in the hands of a minotaur** which, I think, was portrayed in a substandard animation. And a series of adventure ensued with his two companions Grover (PJ's protector/satyr***) and Annabeth (daughter of Athena). Goal: To get the three pearls which will be their return ticket from the scary underworld to reality. Said pearls are scattered in three states in the US of A.

The trio went on three major adventures for the, yes, pearls. Childhood adventure/ fantasy for y'all!

1. A trip to a statue (?!) garden somewhere in New Jersey. Here, they encountered the evil Medusa. Uma Thurman was so convincing with all the almost real snakes in her head. I love the part where PJ used his iPod as his rear view mirror to escape Medusa's spell. Yes, they got the first pearl.
2. Trip to Parthenon in Nashville, Tennessee. The music capital of the world. I suddenly remember my Uncle Jimmy who is based there. The trio is supposed to get the pearl from the crown of the giant statue of Athena. After battling with some multiple-headed monster (I forgot the Greek name. Sorry.), they got the pearl.
3. Trip to a hotel casino in, where else but, Las Vegas, Nevada. After munching lotus flowers, the trio was left in a trance and were trapped in the casino for five days. A fatherly whisper from Poseidon brought PJ to reality and the trio successfully got the last pearl.

Then off to the underworld where Hades reigns supreme. The underworld was creepy, just like I had imagined in Greek mythology lessons in high school. PJ finally saw his mother. They used the three pearls as return tickets to reality. Grover, however, chose to stay in favor of PJ's mother. He had some flirty moments with Persephone who was being held captive as Hades' wife.

And so on and so forth. PJ battled with Luke, son of Hermes, who turned out to be the true lightning thief. Then PJ and Annabeth (she looks more like a goddess than her mom Athena) went to Mount Olympus. Here's the amusing part: So Mount Olympus is just way above the Empire State Building? PJ finally met his father and had a talk with the latter.

Then it's back to Camp Half-Blood where PJ and Annabeth will further undergo more training as demi-gods. PJ is now more confident to approach Annabeth. A hesitant loveteam at first.

The end.

And I better end this rambling. Despite some forgivable lapses, I'm looking forward to a sequel, actually.

*part human and part horse 

**a creature with the head of a bull on the body of a man

***a troop of male companions of Pan and Dionysus that roamed the woods and mountains. In mythology they are often associated with sex drive and vase-painters often portrayed them with perpetual erections.

Tooth Fairy: Magic Is Getting Some Muscle

(N.B. This is actually an overdue post. It has been filed as draft [photo only] for almost two weeks and I think it's best to blog about this ASAP. ~ The Authoress)

In all aspects, The Tooth Fairy seems to be a no-brainer movie. It's a movie which would enable you to munch on popcorn as many as you want or to even send a quick reply to a friend's SMS without getting lost in the story line. Ooops, the SMS part depends, however, on how you respect the term: movie etiquette.

Dwayne Johnson (a.k.a. The Rock) reminds me of Vin Diesel in another no-brainer movie The Pacifier. Why, you may ask? Muscles, the rebellious yet cute kids and some boring, wholesome romance with the leading lady. These three factors really hold some truth that Hollywood sometimes recycles movie plots to the point of becoming too achingly familiar.

My memory bank allows some deposits, to wit:

1. Julie Andrews. Her portrayal of Lily, the head fairy, reminds me of her portrayal of Queen Clarisse Renaldi in Princess Diaries 1 & 2. She seems to remain regal and poised over the years.
2. The tooth fairy weapons ( e.g. Shrinking Paste, Invisible Spray, Amnesia Dust, Cat Away, and mints that makes people bark like a dog). I'm wondering whether our country's folklore has a counterpart for this.
3. The "dream crusher" scenario. I had a sinking feeling when Derek Thompson (The Rock's character) said to the kids that "there's no such thing as dreams". It's a good thing emotional bailout scenes soon followed.

As a general rule, I am not a big fan of surprises, but such rule admits of an exception -  Hollywood movie plots.

Word Wrap a.k.a. Lunatic Charm

So some words kept on running to and fro my eyes. They came from various sources on my left, my right, above - everywhere. And then I thought it's better to compile the same and make a poem. This time it's very stream of consciousness, first-drafty type writing. There are times I feel all these mysterious words and have all these confusing thoughts bouncing around inside my brain, and the only way I can think to relieve myself is to jam it all out through my fingers. And click. Sort of like creative Tourette's or something. Whatevah.*

Pop goes the weasel on

The mermaid chair

Sent items made an exit;

ViewSonic them and

Return to list of posts.

Mickey Mouse,

save now!

Ready, coach!

Miranda warnings?

Restart later.

Required workhours per day,

Streets, sidewalks, curbs and gutters, public grounds,

Select.

Is this correct?

My account?

Help!

Monetize.

Search favorites;

Reply to all;

Type a contact to find

For follow up

Large mail, unread mail, junk E-mail,

Mail!

Snag it!

By category,

By company,

By follow-up flag.

Briefing stopped;

Open a shared calendar;

Meet now

For kids.

Motion to extend time.

Show time as: Free.

Post options.

(We) I value what you think.

*I cannot believe I wrote this. Incomprehensible? No. I call this as lunatic charm. Hahaha!

So A Bus Ride Made Me Think Of This?!

Like most people, I have a lot of random thoughts all the time. Sometimes I just keep them to myself, only to mourn them later when I forget them. For those rare times that I find my thoughts are publish-worthy, I think I should be able to put them here. I'm allowed to do that because it's my blog.  

On my way home on board a bus, I entertained some dreamy thoughts about some secrets. 

One of my deepest secrets is that sometimes I really just want to be a real grown-up. I know I'm already 29 and will be 30 soon but living in the metro, which is sort of like every rural girl's dream, makes me feel and act younger than my actual age. The hustle and bustle, the hype, the traffic jam - all these reverberates to the very core of my physical self and they serve as my instant age-defying vitamin. I feel old, however, when I'm checking out the hot buys of metro malls. I dunno why. When I see a pretty dress and it won't fit all right, I suddenly feel old blaming myself for not watching my diet. When I survey the shelves in the surpermarket, I feel old when an inner voice tells me to stop buying junk foods. Health is wealth. When I face the mirror and see some fine lines in my forehead, an alarm clock would tick inside my head.

Then being a real grown-up leads me to one nagging thought. I'm holding my breath for the consequences of this honest blog of mine. OK, I'll spill now.

All I really want is to meet the man I'm going to marry and start growing up beside him. I want to call him from work to see how his day is going and then he'd ask me the same. I prefer actually if he'd call me first. I will tell him I'm having a bad hair day and that my head is very itchy due to dandruff (one of the ill effects of random searching of hair shampoo in the grocery aisle) and he will tell me to keep quiet and tell me how pretty I am. Then I want to go home to our adorable house and find him there, cooking dinner and listening to our common favorite artist. Surprise, surprise, he'd say. His work allows him to go home early and he thinks of his lovely woman while driving home. And then I'll drop my shoulder bag on the sofa and walk over to him and he will hug me while he drops the pot holder. I want to tell him that it's my turn to cook and that he can go to the living room and watch TV. With the absence of intelligent TV shows, he will put off the idiot box and will ask me, over and over again, how my day was, who the monsters of my day are, while kissing me.... I'll let my imagination run wild here at this point. And then dinner will be left cold in the kitchen.

I want to wake up beside my man every morning and laugh because he fell asleep in the middle of our big bed. I want to reach over and try my best to move him beside me, and I want to hear him grumble sleepily in protest before he rolls over and wraps his arms around me. I want to sigh because I know he will be asleep again within a few seconds. He is. I want to slip out of the bed and go to the kitchen to make coffee. Now, this is something I have always so equated with married life* - making coffee while hubby is still complaining why the day started so early. Then I'll switch on the TV for some mandatory morning noise. I will write a short note in a stick-on  colored sheet and press it to his coffee mug: A few months ago, I would sit on the bus and dream about you, whoever you were. Now you're here, and turns out the universe is way better at making this stuff up than my brain was. Want to have babies? Yes/no? Circle. I love you.

So a bus ride made me think of this?!

*The first time I thought of this dreamy thought I pictured that marriage will  soon follow, but heck, I typed "married life". Either applies, really.

Urban Dictionary Just Made My Day... LOL!

Sheer curiosity made me do this and the spirit of vanity whispered to me as well. I remember I used to browse this cool wordkeeper when I was working my butt off in a law firm in 2008. The giveaway pressure and tension (all because my boss was so, uhm, bossy, to put it mildly) prompted me to search the random definitions of words as my icebreaker. I never thought, however, to search for my own name. And for now, Urban Dictionary just made my day, fellas! 

1. Whoever submitted this entry to Urban Dic deserves a hug and a kiss from me. I owe you one! You're also unreal, buddy! And because of this, I forgive you for some minor lapses (e.g. lack of apostrophe and the misspelled "dam". Oh damn!) in your entry.

  

2.  See # 1 for similarity of my thoughts on this.

 

3.  A big Whoa! I think this honor of having my name defined so erotically goes to none other than... I'll keep you posted. LOL!

 

4. Creepy silence. This is NOT me except for sweet and smart. Thank you.

Now go Urban Dic your name!

If Only These Breads Can Talk

BreadTalk, a bakery of Singaporean origin and famous for its glass shelf and rack display, is a familiar spot everytime I go home. I usually drop by at the Gateway branch for two things: first, earthquake cheese loaf for Annabelle Rama and, second, hot floss for Papa. But this time around, I opted to buy the cartoon faces-inspired buns. I find them too cute to eat, so much so that I took pictures of them.

  

This is Mr. Beans, a bun filled with red bean paste.

 

This is JJ Baby, a dark chocolate filled bun. With its pointed top that resembles baby hair, this bun reminds me of Jack-Jack Parr from The Incredibles.

 

This is Choco Bear, a milk filled bun. The cutest of them all!

If only these breads can talk... I'd be horrified! Kidding.

A Funny Recipe

Ingredients:

1. 200 kgs. of pork pigue or kasim, preferably from a snorting, stinky glutton of a pig
2. 140 pieces of tablea (cocoa bars from the far-flung mountains)
3. 4 liters of HIV-positive blood of a GMD

Directions:

1. Chop the pork into tiny pieces with a sharp-bladed knife till it becomes dull.
2. Crush the cocoa bars with bare hands until the smell of bitterness will waft through your nostrils and your hands will have traces of cocoa till kingdom come.
3. Mix the pork cutlets and the crushed cocoa until you cringe in pure disgust. Set aside.
4. Boil the blood in high fire till it reminds you of Dark Prince's cauldron. 
5. Drop the first two ingredients to the boiling pot. Put water, if necessary.
6. Stir constantly and, voila, an instant carcass soup reminiscent of  the tragedy in Haiti.

Serve in high-quality polypropylene container.

Amid The Pressure Cooker Whistling

A pressure cooker whistling is my music while I'm clicking the keys.


The pressure cooker is still whistling, whistling more, some more till I think it will blow up to the ceiling. In fact, it's noisy. But I don't mind at all.


And now I'm wondering what's inside the pressure cooker. It better be delicious. It should be, just to compensate the laborious throbbing of my eardrums.


Whistle, whistle, whistle. Whistling while tenderizing meat. That's precisely its main job. It clamors endlessly to the whole house, making its main job known to the household. The pressure cooker is multi-tasking, and I am too. I'm blogging while I enjoy the music - whistling pressure cooker.


If only this pressure cooker ain't hell-hot on the surface, I'd probably do a high-five with it.