Ice Carvings

This is a first. While working on routine paperwork filing critical to jumpstarting every Monday, something odd happened. Reaching in my drawer absentmindedly and without a cursory glance, i realized that i have achieved something that very few office folk experience. I ran out of paper clips. Seriously, how can one run out of paper clips? Staple wires i can understand, but paper clips? Is there anything else less regulated than these pieces of twice-bent wires? Has anybody ever been accused of hoarding paper clips even if they have way too much? Since everybody else was out at this time, i managed to swipe some off my co-worker's desk. I think when left alone, her stock of paper clips multiply on their own, so I guess she wouldn't notice. Now back to work

I'm hung over... From Ad Congress. Not from the usual effects of alcohol during the parties at the venue. It would take a lot of free alcohol to get me wasted... and i know a lot about free alcohol. I guess I also know a lot about being wasted, but that's just another blog entry waiting to happen. Seventeen years after I told my future first boss that I'll be pursuing a career in advertising, I'm still outside looking in. Back then when i was working part time as a cub writer, he never showed any inclination in hiring me full time. When i finally asked why, he told me he was expecting me to follow my declaration of going into agency work. When i told him I'm not really in a hurry, he hired me on the spot. Seventeen years of work involving writing followed. Macs, mainframe software, advocacy, company profiles, real estate, mechanical engineering, drugs, and now beer and all its trappings. On top of my regular job at PR and whatever the hell is it i'm supposed to ...

having prided myself with never having to file for sick leave my whole career here at the Escudo, a couple of bacteria and/or viruses banded together and beat the crap out of me via low risk pneumonia. Which prevented me from going on a trip to Cebu, and prevented me from doing my annual tradition as live score guy at the Beer Drinking finals, and from getting drunk in a Visayan crowd. 4 years and 4 months later, i had to seek the medical slip. some streaks were never meant to last. Having coughed out my lungs for the past 3 days, I'm not complaining. I already envisioned the mass hysteria developing inside the 9am MNL-CEB flight as soon as fellow travelers begin to sympathize with my symptoms. Despite the cocktail of drugs i was given as consolation prize, the recovery was slow as i was subjected to an incessant video festival of Elmo's world episodes, courtesy of new king of the Wild Things Elan. It's really hard to calm your nerves when you keep hearing that maniacal psy...

ah.. 38 is such a special number. Ask Smith & Wesson. Half a month into my half-life stage and i still have nothing to show for it. IF my life would flash before my eyes prior to the collision, what would it show? Probably my last few PowerPoint presentations. I can hear the eulogy now... "He was a monster with those slides!" But I digress. I'm 38 years old. It might not be old, but that's not young. And at 38, life has beaten me into submission. Gone are the grandiose plans, the oaths to turn this world to its knees through a combination of talent, luck and ambition. The drive to write the next great potboiler, the next immortal poem, the year's best screenplay. Again, PowerPoint rears its ugly head into the visuals...shit. I'm not complaining though. I'm better off. And only because i worked my ass off. So now, bills are a source of amusement rather than a dreadful thing. Of course, this doesn't mean I'm rich now. But we'll get there. I...

Was able to watch DVDs today, after letting my home theater lie idle the past few months. Brought out two big guns from my collection: Jarhead and Rocknrolla and mustered enough effort to distance myself from my son and escape in cinema. After a short stint at the supermarket and a brief dinner, I rolled out my new addition: Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. I should have watched this a long time ago, having heard of its charm, but lack of availability until today prevented me from doing so. It was total mindfuck. I was completely immersed in the film, wondering whether this scene was all in the mind, a real occurrence, or a fantasy projection. And it had me thinking if ever such technologies existed, would you dare to wipe your memory of certain persons completely to erase the bitter taste in your mouth of previous bad experiences? Of course wiping out the bad means also wiping out the good. It turned out in the movie that wiping out memories of one person is not a guarantee of p...

I just spent over an hour watching (intently if I may say) Animal Planet's Mermaids: A Body Found. The documentary starts with an interesting premise that US navy underwater experiments may have been the cause for a lot if whale beachings and that it may have killed a previously unknown species that is more man than marine mammal. Show then proceeds to give evidence to the existence of mermaids, complete with cgi animations to give us a look. Spoiler: they look like green avatar humanoids with fish tails. Anyway, I was hooked, and began watching more intently, unmindful of the fact that it was eating up my JackTV time. I even managed to have nel watch, which she did enthusiastically while humming bars from The Little Mermaid. I got hooked, especially on the conspiracy part where it seems that some agency was trying to shut down the team who discovered the mermaids. Even if they only have sound recordings and a partially digested specimen. Then, during the end credits, all was revea...

Honestly, why do some people end their request with some asinine clincher such as: "Sige na. Pogi ka naman eh." I know it's supposed to be flattering at face value (especially if you aren't unattractive), but that statement poses a lot of unanswered questions: 1. Does that mean the asking party acknowledges he/she is unpretty, and thus his/her disadvantage requires more attractive people give in to their request? 2. Does that mean good looks beget compassion? 3. Are ugly people supposed to get what they want from better looking ones (I can imagine the sex implications on this one)? 4. Are the merits of the request secondary to appearance of the requester? 5. Aren't I supposed to be working instead of asking these questions? I guess I'll just leave it to this dude for the final word: "It is amazing how complete is the delusion that beauty is goodness." - Leo Tolstoy Epilogue: Wouldn't it be more exciting if we expand the concept use the same devic...

writing while watching top chef, downing shots of Chivas, and smoking an e-cigarette somehow doesn't work all that well. I can almost hear the judges of top chef giving me a rejoinder: just desserts telling me: "The idea was there, but i think you should have thought of this more..." i blow a large billow of vapor (not smoke i guess)... the hell with it. I have no expectations at this point, and the 3rd shooter is making its way to my consciousness. A newspaper article earlier kinda hit home: February seemingly breezed by 2011, and here i am, trying to come up with a blog entry at the homerun stretch. 2011 has been very kind to me, as opposed to that callous, cruel 2010. I really don't give a rat's ass about zodiac signs and horoscopes, but like a chinoy friend told me -- it's 50/50. And somehow, this year really was better - in the cards and in real life. i really just have to temper my expectations. but yeah, so far so good.

why is it so hard to find a bag of Skittles Chocolate mix in this side of the planet? I'm not even a candy addict, much less a chocoholic. But the idea of messing around with small spheres of S’mores, Chocolate Pudding, Chocolate Caramel, Vanilla and Brownie Batter is too much to resist. Arrgh. I have unfortunately tasted the forbidden fruit once, and it's not available anywhere i look. SM. Clark. Rustan's. Maybe if i try hard, i'll get what i need. which in my case, would be peanut butter candy. Sigh.

funny how when you buy toys for your kids, you pick two things: 1. The toys you enjoyed as a kid, especially those with much improved features. we're talking about three decades of research and development, so they're bound to get cooler. or 2. The toys you wanted before but you were either too poor, too old, or too clumsy to get. I got elan a toy biplane for Christmas, one held together by lug nuts and comes with a power screwdriver. Despite the fact that the kid is barely a year, and this toy is designed for 3 years old and up, i still wanted him to have it, as i was afraid that by the time he's 3, it wouldn't be on the market anymore. I got a similar toy back when i was three or four and instead of a power screwdriver, came with a plastic wrench. I'd spend hours playing mechanic, making plane noises and alternately assembling and disassembling the plane without even considering the damn thing was too fat that it wouldn't fly at any point. It was fun...

With only a few days before 2k11, yours truly is proud to say that he survived 2010 bruised, battered and with a renewed lust for life. How can i mix such polar opposites in one sentence? It's pretty much simple: Things are gonna get better. Not bound to get better, but will get better. Over the years, i have grown to accept that most of my injuries - physical and otherwise, are of the self-inflicted kind, it would be fun to take a different mindset, especially if you're fast approaching 40, with a year-old son who has already usurped your title as King of the Curious. Part of the solution is straightforward. I'm not saying its easy, but it's not rocket science either: Let things go. While it's fun to probe and analyze and reverse engineer, it's even fun to just savor the moment. That way, I avoid making me... (lead into song..) Can we forget about the things I said when I was drunk? I didn't mean to call you that. I can't remember what was said or what ...

time flies when you're a slave to the grind. It's been a month since my last post and it felt like it was just yesterday. Yet the losing streak continues. I should really stop talking about the kings due to two things: 1. When they're on a roll, i invariably hex them into a nosedive. 2. When they're into a nosedive, they dive even more. Just good luck, you jerks. My Lakers-fan of a brother has long since stopped trash talking me out of indifference. --- Raffles. Ah, the momentary escape of the masses where each ticket holder is given a statistical chance of winning something big in exchange for the price of something small. I hate raffles. Last week's events gave me a chance to win the following: 1. Netbook. 2. 19-in LCD TV 3. Nokia C3 cellphone 4. Digital camera. 5. Beer tower 6. 741 million pesos It's bad enough that i already feel like the miserable wretch that i am on a daily basis, but not winning anything in 3 raffles (lotto, plant raffle, and sales raffl...

Conversely (see previous blog entry), i achieved something that has been simmering under competitive fires for over 3 plus years now. I am part of the champion team of the Tuesday Basketball Club one-night tournament. And it happened with me joining the most underrated team in the 4-team special. And they won despite me! Being one of the senior members and the only one yet to win this once-in-a-while tournament, it felt good to finally nail one W down. Considering that i was robbed twice by buzzer beaters in previous events, including the most asinine game review ever: video reviews supposedly confirmed the opponent's shot came in as the horn sounded. When i went to watch the video the other guys took, the disputed shot in its entirety was totally covered by one of the players backside. But i'm not bitter anymore about that. The sweet laurel of victory is mine to cherish, until at least the next tournament scheduled early next year. ---- This is a crappy blog post. I guess I...

Damn you, Sacramento Kings. here we go again. the moment i post something about the damn team, they go on a 3-game losing streak. From 3-1, they now sport 3-4. They just lost to a team ranked lower than them (it's possible) by 10 points at their own home court. Major, nay, epic Fail. It hurts to root for a team that loses, despite the fact it was never expected to win in the first place. It hurts to be a fan, despite the fact that the Kings haven't made money off me in the form of tickets, merchandise, or game broadcasts. Even the fans at Sactown Royalty have set a new record of being collectively disgusted with the team this early in the season. Maybe i should stop blogging about them. Or maybe it's time to root for a new team... Heaven forbid.

NBA Basketball season is amongst us, all ye faithful. which means nothing to most of you, but is the difference between me sleeping at 1030 and sleeping at 1045. I don't actually watch entire games (save for Kings games whenever the opportunity arrives) on a daily basis, as i loathe the daily fare Basketball TV has scheduled for us: a. Teams better than the Kings - why the hell should i watch them? b. Teams worse than the Kings - see a. As of this writing, my beloved team is mired at the middle, with 3 wins and 3 losses and nowhere near its potential. Add to that a declining fanbase (especially here in the country), the possibility of moving to another city, and the seeming disinterest of a number of national sportswriters in the US, and you'll probably ask me the next time i see any of you: "Why the Kings? They're nobodies." (although even more probable is that nobody gives a flyin' frick and move on to the next blog entry. Hence no need to ask questions wher...

I caught a glimpse, but its been forgotten So here we are again I made a vow, to carry you home... home I really tried to do what you wanted It all went wrong again I made a vow, to carry you home If you fall sick, if you pass out I figured it out, I can see again - Bloc Party, "So Here We Are" This just works on so many levels... sigh.

For those of you who read the previous entry, you'd probably expect this by now. I bought the two remaining books of the Millennium trilogy and had to finish it, in the same way that after four good books, i had to read the rest of the Harry Potter series. At least Millennium didn't suck like HP. Harry Potter could die and resurrect himself in the last two books and i couldn't care less. Oh wait, he did pretend to die in the last book. Ugh. Anyway, I think Larsson inadvertently stumbled upon The Successful Formula for Writing Trilogies: 1. Book One should be standalone and bring enough of a good story, as well as an intriguing plotline. 2. Book Two should be a cliffhanger. The bad boys usually win at this point. 3. Nobody cares about Book Three at this point except to finish it, as everybody knows the hero/ine will win, and the bad guys dead or shamed into less threatening day jobs, so our expectations have been set. But might as well end it with a bang. Or happily. Mostly,...

Today marked a rare day where i voluntary stayed home to nurse a sprained foot. I'd like to say it was entirely basketball-related, but in all honesty, the whole day was bad for my feet. It started in the morning when i decided to wear my old loafers to work because they were comfy. The sole came off the left foot at the most inopportune time and i almost fell down the stairs in pursuit of my lunch order. Despite having a pair of basketball shoes on hand (or on foot?), I was forced to wear flip flops the rest of the time at work simply due to color coordination problems: my pants were khaki and my baller shoes where black and grey. The style police won this round. Later that day during basketball (tuesday nights are the only time when i offset my beer consumption with actual exercise), i tried sidestepping like i was weighing 130 lbs, and just like that, reality became slow and blurry and my life flashed before my eyes. My left Nike decided to stay put while my body shifted to the ...

We are all witnesses. Especially the past few days. I have done my best to keep silent but I cannot, in good conscience, let it go without saying anything. Short of switching allegiance from the Kings to the team where The King once held court, I held you in high esteem, and considered you my last best hope. You were supposed to be the One King who could do what the Kings could not: topple the evil empire out West, even if at the expense of my team that never wins. You never even made it that far, your dream matchup with your fellow shoe endorser never came to fruition. Simply put, your team never showed up for the dance. And all the while, the cold blooded snake won it all two out of three times. I found your game refreshing, your brute strength indefatigable, and your vision uncanny. The game is yours for the taking, and although you always threaten to break new records every game, you seem more interested to display trick shots during shootarounds and take imaginary pictures of your...

yesterday marked the return leg of my last trip as "the guy" for south luzon. Fittingly, a buddy mentioned as we were parting that i first met him during Parada ng Lechon and I was saying goodbye 3 paradas later. I felt sad but managed to smile, but then i could've sworn i heard him mutter " Who cares ?" as he turned around... As we traversed the length and breadth of the asphalt, i tried to gather sweet memories of my short stint here at the provinces that i brazenly adopted as my own, only to be paranoid that the residents were really anxious to see me go. I tried to retrieve from my memory palace the favorite activities and get-togethers that we did in behalf of the name we carried. Strangely, all i got were moments of pure embarrassment (for both yourself and the name you carried) by falling asleep or puking at the most inopportune time (or person). Blame the long travel. I tried to cram into my mind the thousands and thousands of kilometers or roads that le...