Ice Carvings

Funny things keep happening last night. First, nel got me a brand new mug she found by accident at the plastics depot in malabon. The mug had the profile of one of my favorite players, Bobby Jackson, decked in his Kings uniform. The mug was perfect, except for the ceramic (but unpainted) hello kitty figurine cemented at the holder... maybe hello kitty is a big fan. then, i dreamed that my blog has become a bit of a cult hit viewed by lots of people i don't know. I kinda got the impression when someone sent me a handwritten letter professing her thanks for keeping on writing. The sender was a female OCW working in Japan, and she enclosed a few photos of herself. Inexplicably, shots of me in my christmas party dance number were included in the envelope. Man, i should really refrain from MSG before bedtime...

I survived my first Christmas party at Escudo Corp. And it wasn't as bad as i expected. Considering the amount of HP i had to expend to pull off my participation, it was pretty much enjoyable compared to the parties i've attended. I had to perform two numbers - one for the boys team and the other a traditional department rookies initiation dance number. Also made an impromptu AVP for the retiring folk plus help out as a member of the games and prizes committee. There is a spirited rivalry every year between the boys and the girls on who can one-up the other during the Christmas party. The boys won last year in a controversy-marred showdown, and are hell-bent on retaining the title. The girls are still fuming mad over what they perceived as a robbery, and are equally hell-bent on winning one. Sparks even flew when some of the boys posted photos of last years dance-off with "The Thrill of Victory" captions for male photos and "The Agony of Defeat" for the wome

Let's see. Based on my last entry, here is a summary of my active sports life: Plays basketball, billiards, badminton, bowling, table tennis, doesn't mind running, knows a little volleyball, understands football (both kinds, but there is no way i can dedicate myself to the sport - not here in Manila), likes snorkeling a bit, and played ultimate frisbee once. Neither good nor bad in these sports. Your average joe who doesn't want to be left behind so tries all these things. Just never mastered any of them to play competitively. Just like my career, and my life in general. In case the point still eludes, i guess i am meant to be a jack of all trades. You know, master of none. Gutsy enough to try but not dedicated enough to concentrate on a single field. Should i examine the reason why in sports, career, and the rest of my totality, i seem to hover on being a jack-of-all-trades rather than a specialist? Am i afraid to dedicate all time and effort on a single pursuit, with the

i've been meaning to document my recent experiences the past 2 months, but somehow, there are less compelling reasons to do so. apart from preserving memories from my recent trip to bacolod, my time-traveling sojourn to the eighties courtesy of a Super Dry event, even a wrestling special (yup, i finagled free tickets from my brother again), and various assortments of the dreary and not-so dreary, there is so much to tell, and no voice to speak of. work isn't the culprit, as the last few weeks saw the end of spent budgets. No events, nothing much to do, so i busied myself with the unenviable task of sorting out the remaining tasks for the year. and helped out with some creative ventures to sister divisions like packaging and coke. of course, there are various company outreach programs fueled by this season to be jolly. in short, there's a spattering of work to be done, but not enough to be a valid excuse of not being able to blog. i do have plenty of interesting distractions

During this morning's chitchat, I just found out from my officemate that her son, Luis, was looking forward yesterday to go to her office and "see tito james." Out of blue, Luis told her mom that tito james is his idol. Whoa. I know the kid likes me because I kept pace with his dissertations on the whole Star Wars franchise during his last visit. I even spent a few moments with him building Rebel and Empire starcraft from assorted Lego pieces. But nothing I did was markedly different from how I play with other children, so Luis’ flippant remark left me amused and flattered. Of course, that wasn’t the end of the story. Turned out that Luis now has three idols. The first two were Spongebob and Mr. Bean. I had to laugh out loud for that. Even as I was just starting on dreaming on how great a dad I could be, or how nice it would be to be setting the examples for a generation of kiddies, I got the kick that I probably would make a great cartoon character. This realization kno

first time i checked in the company bowling tournament. Our team was running second place by the time i was able to free up a saturday afternoon and play. it was an omen that our leading bowler got stuck up north and wasn't able to make it. So there was i, rookie player, teamed with four hardcore veterans who averaged at least 140. Me, who used a 9 pound ball and played with an unorthodox release, pitted with the top team from Coke. The first game was a dream for me, as i wound up the top scorer for both teams with a scorching 178. I managed to put in four strikes, and choked on the fifth, which would have netted me free ice cream to take home. anyway, i did manage to pull the score way over the other team so we drew first blood. Don't get me wrong, but a 178 is way over my game, and i think it's one of my top three all-time highest scores this side of life. unfortunately, my highlight was over shortly, as i managed to scrape in a 114 and a 118, pushing our totals down and

I’m a beer drinker, but not much of a social one. I’m not the type who would pay a hundred bucks for a single bottle of beer just to get the privilege of hanging out at social clubs, where most people’s shoes cost more than my entire wardrobe. I don’t mind finishing off a six-pack by myself if it means being in front of the home entertainment system or slaving away at the PC, busying myself with email, downloading files, or blogging. I like my beer cold, and if company is required, I prefer the comfort afforded by long-known friends. San Miguel Oktoberfest changed all that. I discovered to my surprise that Oktoberfest means partying on! No matter how much you’ve consumed (there are limits you know…always drink moderately), how much fun you’ve had, or how many friends you make for one night, there will be another Oktoberfest leg around the corner. And it goes on for a month. Apart from the beer, the scene removes all your inhibitions in making new friends. You don’t mind tipping your g

In the course of work, I’ve been reading up on biographies of a number of famous people who made it through hard work, sheer determination, and a willingness to buck the odds (what a job eh? reading during office hours and getting paid…). Their inspiring stories, often either a rags-to-riches or obscurity-to-fame type, has led countless people to think about being master of their own fate and captain of their soul. Upon reflection, I realized I had none of the qualities of a successful businessperson, so I guess as early as now, I must consign myself to a life of abject mediocrity. I was not born special. I didn’t come from a life of poverty so I don’t have that chip on my shoulder that makes me obsess over making it big. I did have some Kodak moments, including episodes running around the house without shorts on. However, that was more out of diaper rash rather than destitution. I wasn’t a product of nobility or rich people as well, so I don’t really have the drive to prove myself I

You called me after midnight Must have been three years since we last spoke I slowly tried to bring back The image of your face from the memories so old I tried so hard to follow But didn't catch the half of what had gone wrong Said "I don't know what I can save you from" I don't know what I can save you from I asked you to come over, and within half an hour You were at my door I had never really known you But I realized that the one you were before Had changed into somebody for whom I wouldn't mind to put the kettle on Still I don't know what I can save you from I don't know what I can save you from I don't know what I can save you from - Kings of Convenience, "I Don't Know What I Can save You From" ------ this is my 100th post, counting the entries where i just pasted some cockamamie lyrics from artists i have admired. i know, i'm getting obsessed with numerology, but i can't help it if the thousandth hit coincided with the

i don't get it. with all the things happening around me, events that catch me in a virtual maelstrom and lifting me to a writer's wet dream of existentialist experiences, i choose to devote this entry discussing a subject that is neither urgent nor uhm...er...original. nel is pretty much caught up on grey's anatomy. i keep finding holes in the plots and comparing it to my newest boob tube bonanza. House MD. Or House. Going back, it was fun to realize, thanks to wikipedia (here's a tip: surfing the web isn't all porn, yahoo, espn, and where to download mp3s, there's a whole world of information out there and there's weboggle!) that House is a TV version of the adventures of my other favorite literary character: Sherlock Holmes. System to get the right diagnosis - eliminate all the other symptoms. The one remaining, however improbable, has to be the right one. Interpersonal relations? Both suck at socials, unless there is a pressing need to get something from

i wanted to write a couple of entries, but somehow the spirit is willing but the fingers are fat and tired. must be from doing all that weboggle. it's seriously addicting, and trying to reach the top 10 is somewhat of an unending challenge. try it yourself by visiting here . anyway, the celebration of the 1000th hit to my blog is too good to pass up so here i am at 1 in the morning writing an entry. I know it's not much compared to hits from google or yahoo, but having my blog viewed a thousand times is more than an achievement for me. it's been a crazy week at work with all the activities going on that i surprise myself for not being burned out yet. i do admit i'm having too much fun to derive some sense of fatigue out of it. Muziklaban is over finally, and it was a blast for yours truly to have attended his first concert with a special all-access ID around his neck. That means i can eat all the food i want and go to all the restricted areas without some bouncer handl

i must be dreaming. somebody shake me awake. somebody shake me loose. i saw my name on francis magalona's blog. i saw my face in francis magalona's blog. i read in francis magalona's blog that he's signing the shirt i've been lusting for and giving it to me. Out of his natural goodness. read it yourself. I don't deserve this. i am not worthy. i'm a lesser mortal, much a lesser fan. i'm a fiend who's more into the dark arts of guitar-driven alternative music, a confessed drinker, and one who watches Eat Bulaga! because my wife holds the remote control hostage during lunch on weekends. I honestly thought that by this time, all has been forgotten. I am humbled. I am grateful. I have transformed from being a fan of the artist to being a fan of the person. Can i scream with joy now?

(with help from Kevin Roy, Jake Yrastoza, Camille Portugal, Affie Carpio, and Reg Rubio) 1. You can sing songs with lyrics like "shit" and "fuck" and nobody gives a damn. 2. Nobody joins Muziklaban to escape poverty. No tearjerking interviews as well. 3. Original material is a must. Unlike pop shows where creativity is optional. 4. You don't have to look good, but you have to sound good. Plus, grooming is optional, whether the band or the audience. 5. No parents present. As managers or as members of the audience. Except those who left their kids at home. 6. Judges don't steal the show by making inane commentataries. 7. It's rock and roll. What else do you want? 8. Definitely and absolutely, no Barry Manilow. Whether as a cover or as a guest. 9. My ears are ringing throughout the show. But im happy. 10. Drinking beer is actually encouraged during the show. Why be the next idol when you can rock on?

Yesterday was supposed to be another ho-hum day where you alternately think about working, seriously think about working, and attending meetings to get off working. The afternoon proved much more interesting as I got to sit down with two of the country’s exciting and durable musical artists. First off was The Dawn, minus Carlos Balcells and plus legend in his own right new bassist Buddy Zabala. Imagine sitting in the same table and trying hard to fawn but to get some hard sound bites. After overcoming the shock and awe when faced with the legendary supergroup, I was able to chat amicably with each member, and despite my boxed questions, discovered that their most requested song was Build Me Up Buttercup and that given the permission to rework the lyrics, Francis Reyes would lead the group in a rendition of Dancing Kings. Also realized via Francis that Saturday Night Fever was a dark tale and not the glitzy all-white disco film we all take it for granted. Next stop was the iconic Franci

i usually don't write for lack of material. Ergo, also the reason why i always crib from someone else's ideas for time to time. lately however, it's been the opposite, as a lot of things have been going on but somehow, i can't lift my fingers to do some typing. i guess it's easier to write when you're anguished rather than happy. yeah, yeah. pile on the excuses. had a monster game last night at basketball, something i haven't done for a while. it helped as i was playing with old friends rene and robin, plus new officemate/blood brother rolli. makes the game much easier if your teammates knew how to catch a ball and shoot accurately. rolli is pretty great at playing point, and creating his own shots. last night was different because my shots were still wild but were falling in. anyway, we demolished a team that consisted of the best in the tuesday night lot. We even dubbed it RP vs. Chinese Taipei. How's that for a little national pride? Guess they'll

Here's to the crazy ones. The misfits. The rebels. The troublemakers. The round pegs in the square holes. The ones who see things differently. They're not fond of rules, and they have no respect for the status quo. You can praise them, disagree with them, quote them, disbelieve them, glorify them, or villify them. About the only thing you can't do is ignore them. Because they change things. They invent. They imagine. They heal. They explore. They create. They inspire. They push the human race forward. Maybe they have to be crazy. How else can you stare at an empty canvas and see a work of art? or sit in silence and hear a song that's never been written? or gaze at a red planet and see a laboratory on wheels? We make tools for these kings of people. because while some see them as the crazy ones, we

Some mornings I hate more than others. Waking up at 6 am once a week to beat the cursed color coding scheme is one of the most dreaded things to do in the name of working for a living. Why do they call it color-coding anyway when they look at your plate number? If the name doesn’t make sense, it should be illegal and thus be banned. Anyway, I dread Tuesday mornings for a number of dread reasons. Being shouted at, nudged, slapped, or shaken awake is a bad start. Ok, so the eyes open, but the rest of your body didn’t get the message, so they just lie there quietly, waiting for your eyes to forget what it saw. Being an impartial judge, I always declare that when it comes to my body, the majority should always win. Unfortunately, Nel has managed to secure veto rights and is dragging me down the stairs at 6:10 am by my hair. Coding days will subject you to the real definition of breakfast: a piece of broken-down bread, which you have to eat fast. A complete, delicious or nutritious is a lux

made a tactical mistake earlier by driving to UP for the 6 pm mass. the place is a virtual standstill, with all major buildings crawling with 4th year high school applicants all wanting to get in. yep, it's that time of the year for the much-awaited UPCAT. and i didn't even have enough sense to avoid the whole of diliman during this time. anyway, while we were driving aimlessly in the hopes of getting a fast lane, i saw this year's batch of hopefuls. since the exams were over, most of the faces i saw were of despair. i don't know the statistics right now, but i guess it's about 1 in 10 exam takers will be lucky to get in. And it's not even luck, but brains. Anxious parents, siblings and friends also littered the area, as they wait for their charges to climb back into the car and spend the next few months waiting for The Letter. That simple, computer generated letter containing 1 or 2 paragraphs telling you if you made it or not. rewind a decade and a half or so.

went out by my lonesome last friday night, as i had a job to do. My destination that night was a bit too extreme for nel who promptly requested to stay home, and my best friend backed out earlier. so i was left to observe the Red Horse Muziklaban elims at Mayric's. Last time i went to Mayric's the band was advent call and the beer was around 15 pesos a bottle. and those were the bad times. I arrived a bit before nine, and the place was already filled. it doesn't take much to book the entire bar, as it was one of the smallest functioning bars in Manila, but i think they did manage to pack in more people that night. My ID worked wonders as i managed to part the crowd and seat myself near the judges' table. Turned out that one of the judges was a good friend of mine from the production days. Finagled a couple of glasses of red horse (courtesy of the company of course) and proceeded to watch the show in relative peace. I didn't want to disturb the judges so much but i c

Now and then Do you wash your hands off me again? Wish me anywhere but home Drunk and on the end of your phone From time to time Do you guess what's really on my mind? Guess that "How you keeping now?" Means "Where are you sleeping now" But of course it's not polite To ask you where you spent last night And if I did you might reply That I have no right And anyway I'm fine Glad that you're no longer mine If I should tell a lie I'll cross my heart and hope to die You'd be appalled If you knew what I was doing When you called Yes, I can see I'm blundering Always end up wondering Will it ever be alright To ask you where you spent last night And can it be polite The way we never write, Of course I don't have the time, And anyway I'm fine If I should tell a lie I'll cross my hear and hope to die EBTG, "Cross my Heart" ---- sigh! another one of those songs i wish i'd written. One of thos songs back in the 80s that used

wow... for the longest time i felt guilty about not writing in an entry, only to realize it has only been nine days since my last blog. I fell down to the flu last Monday and Tuesday, so it's only now that i got some free time. there's been a blaze of activity since i joined the escudo, and i spent the last few weeks in a blaze of meetings, getting to know the beer's top bosses and getting in with the flow. it helped a lot that my co-workers in the department were all intellectual and (to some extent) emotional peers -- a sharp contrast to the times when i had to play referee to cutthroat salespersons and subjugate myself to an egomaniac numbskull whose personal profit and ambition comes first. i won't go so far as to say that ego and ambition would not rear their ugly heads here, but at least the rules don't keep changing. My boss is very nice, very encouraging, and so far i haven't let her down in work. My teammates all have the support group mentality down pa

Maybe I've been the problem Maybe I'm the one to blame But even when I turn it off and blame myself The outcome feels the same I've been thinkin' maybe I've been partly cloudy Maybe I'm the chance of rain And maybe I'm overcast and maybe All my luck's washed down the drain I've been thinkin' 'bout everyone, everyone you look so lonely But when I look at the stars, When I look at the stars, When I look at the stars I see someone else When I look at the stars, the stars I feel like myself Stars looking at our planet, Watching entropy and pain And maybe startin' to wonder How the chaos in our lives could pass as sane I've been thinkin' 'bout the meaning of resistance Of a hope beyond our own And suddenly the infinite and penitent Began to look like home I've been thinkin' 'bout everyone, everyone you look so empty But when I look at the stars, When I look at the stars, When I look at the stars I see someone else When

After a full six months of working by myself, here i am back in the land of the cubicles and charts. and it was an interesting day. first, the HR case officer was on leave, so i had to foot it the whole morning. My boss was going to show up after lunch after a month-long medical leave, so the next in line toured me inside. The central a/c was down and i was wearing long sleeves and a tie. Everybody i was introduced to suggested i should wear something more comfortable. I spent the better part of the morning dressing up my boss's panel with welcome back strips of multicolored japanese paper. viewing the results, i sure hope that the guys grade effort and not the results. then, i realized that lunch time was spent by the group converging on the area where my table was. it seemed that my table, along with the next table, was the lunch area, and i spent my first lunch sharing food with everybody else. A little cajoling prompted me to treat them to dessert of sweet corn ice cream and ch

3 days to go. Beginning Monday, I have to go back to living the life of an office drone - not just any company mind you - a senior office drone for the top local company in the country. I just realized that as of today, my resume is 5 pages long. All those companies, and all those experiences, now etched in laser printer carbon and saved as 1s and 0s on disk. As much as i often left with a heavy heart or an empty wallet, most of the companies i worked for seemed lost without me. Seriously, let's see the scorecard: 1st job: Publishing Firm - Monthly Magazine - part-time contributor (during college) - hired as staff writer upon graduation - promoted to Associate Editor in 3 months Company status when i left: Bankrupt/Closed 2nd job: Local distributor of Apple Computers (pre-iMac) - started as technical writer for 4th Dimension database programs - transferred to PR department as PR writer - concurrent editor in chief of monthly newsletter - concurrent lead business writer - PR assista

This is why events unnerve me, They find it all, a different story, Notice whom for wheels are turning, Turn again and turn towards this time, All she asks the strength to hold me, Then again the same old story, Word will travel, oh so quickly, Travel first and lean towards this time. Oh, Ill break them down, no mercy shown, Heaven knows, its got to be this time... - "Ceremony," Joy Division Positivism hates me. i was hoping that this day would be a very good day. turned out on all fronts it wouldn't. From the time i left the house to the time i went back, my high hopes were somehow blindsided by reality. And to thihk i was expecting a great week...funny how reality bites when you least expect it. the final humiliating moment came when i attended an event earlier tonight, in really good spirits. it was pre-launch for a good project, and i was hoping that as a consultant, i would finally break free from the chains of being a lackey. i arrived a full 30 minutes before the

i woke up the day after my birthday with the anticipation that my birthday wish came true... nope. Two decades later, my wish of getting super or mutant powers have remained unheeded. I still do not possess the ability to fly, be invisible at will, erupt into flames, or harness water in the air to make ice. Sigh! I would've been great at parties...

Speak to me in a language I can hear Humour me before I have to go Deep in thought I forgive everyone As the cluttered streets greet me once again I know I can't be late, supper's waiting on the table Tomorrow's just an excuse away So I pull my collar up and face the cold, on my own The earth laughs beneath my heavy feet At the blasphemy in my old jangly walk Steeple guide me to my heart and home The sun is out and up and down again I know I'll make it, love can last forever Graceful swans of never topple to the earth And you can make it last, forever you You can make it last, forever you And for a moment I lose myself Wrapped up in the pleasures of the world I've journeyed here and there and back again But in the same old haunts I still find my friends Mysteries not ready to reveal Sympathies I'm ready to return I'll make the effort, love can last forever Graceful swans of never topple to the earth Tomorrow's just an excuse And you can make it last, for

Spent the last few weeks reading and rereading a 2004 year end issue of Esquire magazine, which I pilfered from one of the production outfits I've had the pleasure of working with. Talk about gratitude... Esquire surprisingly came not just as an easy read but a very very good one as well. The topics were a bit off center and the writers, well... they were gods in my eyes. How do you explain the story of a 42 year old dad setting up his apartment into an X-Box center and letting his kids practice until they're ready to face some real full-time gamers. And he did bring them to their headquarters - the Order of Light over at Memphis. Whether you're dad the writer, or the sons out to meet some role models, how much cooler can that get? Which brings me to my topic: will I make a great dad if ever? Spare me the pyschobabble bullshit about being a son of my father and that good traits and bad get passed on generations. They even have a name for it, if I recall my 80s Reader's

Them Japanese. They have to do things differently all the time. Everybody used to play with toy soldiers. Then, what did they do? They invented Voltes V and wreaked havoc on the consciousness of millions of Filipino Gen-Xers who suffered decades because some president banned the broadcast of the crucial last episodes. When everybody was happy with talking and texting on their cellphones, they had to make it video capable. Soon, everybody wanted one. I like my fish smothered in oil and golden brown. And what did Tokyo make trendy? Sushi and sashimi and maki. Now, it's not cool if you eat it fried. The Japanese are a bit weird considering they eat raw fishes And don't let me get started on Hello Kitty and Pokemon and Dragonball Z. Which brings me to my point. Even at poetry they had to do things different. Haiku is a poem where each line has a meter Five syllables more... Yes, the haiku. It's not much, but the 5-7-5 lines are designed to evoke strong emotional responses. Hmmm

What a little dose of punk rock won't do. After slaving away the latter half of Sunday trying desperately to meet deadlines while listening to the wails of Stiff Little Fingers, the Clash, The Sex Pistols, The Ramones, The exploited, and the Descendants, I realized I was guilty of a bit of overcommitting and not really taking advantage of my unique situation. My time is being wasted shuttling between the big fish and the small fry, and often it is my indecision that allows both to escape. And man, I am grinding long hours for peanuts. It's not normal, and it may not be right. Along with indecision, I have laid a number of notable distractions before me. These should be minor annoyances that a simple flick of the neck or the click of a red button should address, but I chose to linger in flights of fantasy by being accommodating. No problem with that, but it often leads me to reshape my schedule and my focus.. bad move. Whether in business or in real life, I realized I have some

"I never had any friends later on, like the ones I had when I was twelve..." - Stephen King, Stand by Me (1986) How wretchedly true. You never quite outgrow a bond shared at the age where going out meant playing street games and riding the jeepney unmindful of everything else, where the opposite sex are funny and good-smelling species you have yet to discover, and money only meant what you would spend for video games and the occasional movie. On the event of my best friend's birthday, we had a get-together last saturday and i saw faces i rarely see. We've all grown so much apart and somehow that night took us back to the days when we shared common interests and ideals. That night for once, i resisted singing my flagship song. Nel was kind enough to refer my signature hit to an old barkada who showed up after a decade of invisibility. And true enough, he sang it better. Now i gotta go back singing "Silvertoes" by Parokya ni Edgar or "Regrets" by Fra

"Rave party without the beer." That was how Nel described the experience of dancing in the streets of Obando, Bulacan. For the record, i never saw our trip to Obando as a pilgrimage. While we haven't had any kids yet, the doctors were all in assurance that we're okay and all, and it's waaaay too early to throw in the towel and seek intervention, divine or surgical. However, the idea of going to Obando was thrown about a couple times during our three-year marriage that it was a matter of curiosity getting the better of me. My thinking was, it may not be needed at this point, but what's there to lose? I have no idea to the answer, but i was sure that i had to gain this much: a road trip, a reason to mingle, and a chance to shoot some pictures. So sign me up please. For starters, the travel wasn't much of a road trip. Obando lies in the boundary of metro manila (via malabon) and is easily accessible by jeepney for the price of a soft drink. It's not like

all you moms out there, Happy Mother's Day! You turn off the light, kiss me good night And mother, I know that I'm going to be alright I just can't wait to grow up Find my own life, be a good wife And a smart one, I'm sure I never took us for granted and I always knew You and I are special But I never knew how much I'd miss you So much has changed and been rearranged And I see that I've lost What made me so young and incredibly strong And never ever wrong You were always there Because you're always everywhere I used to cry for no reason And that's still the same Except that I had adolescence to blame But not now Now I feel sad because I don't know what's true And I miss thinking I could be just like you. So much has changed and been rearranged And I see that I've lost What made me so young and incredibly strong And never ever wrong So much has changed and been rearranged And I see that I've lost What made me so sure that I could endure Ho

Today's word of the day comes from a scented oils salesgirl from SM Megamall's lifestyle basement: PAPURI I was browsing for some vanilla scented oils earlier, as i wanted my favorite aroma wafting all over my office/attic so i can work in a more conducive (less smelly) setting. Noting the price of a small vial, i asked the intrepid salesgirl why the small 10ml bottle is 80 bucks compared to her neighbor's asking price of 50 (they have no vanilla so there). She looked at me and told me bluntly: " Kasi special yan. Puwede mo ihalo sa kung anu-ano. " Hmm... My mind drifted off as i pictured pouring the valuable drops into anything i could reach: my favorite oil and garlic pasta, my contact lens solutions, the gas tank of the car, refilling ink for my printer, and even putting it in the wash to make our bedsheets soft and satiny. For 80 bucks, everything would come out smelling nice and heavenly... Not to be, as I was rudely shaken off my reverie when ms. intrepid ga

manila_ice@yahoo.com i was contemplating an Internet ID name change and thought of the above moniker. It's hip, it's short, it's close to the original nick and hits me home. I broached the idea to Nel yesterday while driving. She couldn't exactly determine if i was serious or not. But somehow, every time she says it out loud, she couldn't supress her laughter. what's so funny about manila ice? Aside from the fact that I personally find it so wretchedly contrived, disarming, and unexplicably unnerving. What do you think?

Ach! No site in sight. This is a bit insane. I know i fall victim to writer's block every now and then but this is a first for me: Net Block. My new keyboard works perfectly. I just had the DSL connection set up earlier today. I even cleaned the room to set the mood. But somehow i realized i'm like all dressed up and nowhere to go. I can't think of any damn site to visit to showcase my newfound net speed. Nothing excited me, not limewire, not ESPN motion, not even the allure of supercharged flash sites i couldn't visit before. I even hesitated to log in at blogger. So, all that horsepower available and i simply whined the time with Yahoo Launchcast (1980s alternative) and checking my bids on eBay (more on that soon). The other day, i fell victim to Printer's Block. Agonized over getting a new cartridge or refilling the ink and save moolah. The latter eventually won, but at a cost. Damn clerk kept bugging me to get a new spent cartridge from him since my old one is a

Finally got the courage to act. I got fed up waiting for her to act normal so i left her for a someone else. Yup, i'm typing on a spanking new keyboard. Alas, she can't be perfect, having wobbly legs, but hey i'll take her over the old bitch that used to stuff extra characters into my words. Oh yeah, after months of researching, the probable culprit of this whole keyboard fiasco is attributed to the habit of eating or drinking in front of the keyboard. Any accumulated particles or moisture tends to make the wires go, er ... haywire. You get the drift. No more potato chip binges for me in front of the monitor. I'll use a spoon, a bowl and an extra side table. Hmm. Spooning clover chips into your mouth...sounds strangely inviting. So, having the new input device should shave off at least 2 hours of unproductivenessand let me get on with my work quicker and with less distractions? Right. I spent a great part of the afternoon inexplicably cleaning the attic (where i work an