Saw this video, aptly titled "United," the other day on TV and it unexpectedly gave me goosebumps over my already evident goosebumps. Made me wanna clap-clap-clap together with the world.
Youth for Human Rights International (YHRI) is an independent non-profit corporation headquartered in Los Angeles, with the purpose to educate people in the Universal Declaration of Human Rights so they become valuable advocates for tolerance and peace.
Go on, visit the YHRI site, watch the other insightful ads, and maybe buy stuff and sign in for a great cause. .
I have said it before, Philip Morris, the makers of Marlboro, always throw the most kick-asstest of parties. The latest I had the opportunity to go to was just last Friday held in the new One Esplanade near the Mall of Asia at Roxas Boulevard. There's free flowing booze owing to Diageo's co-sponsorship of the event. A battalion of beautiful people scatter everywhere inside the venue. So many, that those in the nether regions might not have sighted a single beautiful person elsewhere that night.
Without further ado, I give you the "M Party" night in a capsule. A 3-minute video. Pictures I took are here(close contacts only, sorry. 40 photos in this collection).
I rent a small-ass place, a 2-storey apartment in the old residential area of Makati. For entertainment, I have this small, for-kitchen-sized, thirteen-glorious-inches of cathode-ray-transmitting cable-hooked TV that I won from a raffle last year. It is propped on a stand facing a decent living room with a couch and throw pillows. I have a dining table with chairs and a fairly workable kitchen with a space-saving single-burner stove, a small oven, and an array of other necessary kitchen stuff and utensils. The house is not something I could have people drop their jaws at in awe which is why I never considered inviting anybody over. Ever.
My dilemma started about a month ago when even I surprised myself on agreeing to host something for friends for a change-of-venue in the stead of our already sort-of-a-ritual drinking weekender in Cable Car along Pasay Road. Thing is, I wasn’t ready. Sure, I myself have been invited to intimate get-togethers in various friends’ houses to save my social life and own-home-party-hosting eventualities but I’m just not prepared for this huge leap in showing other people how independently kick-ass I am in managing it on my own so far. See, I have this fear of being judged and told that my idea and way of a sovereign lifestyle sucks. I mean, I had been living this way for so long and an in-my-face feedback about it being a sham could just be irreversibly unbearable for my deflated, albeit healthy-looking-because-I-am-a-good-actor-like-that, ego. I could pull off living like a slob owing to my younger-than-my-age appearance, with special commendations to the genes of my parentals’ lineage of immortals, but my would-be guests actually know my age and they have a hint of how much I earn (or so they think. Hah!) that I have no choice but shape up and get myself ready for what I foresee to be a momentous milestone in my version of a parody of a gloomorous life. Pun intended on the "gloom."
About a week before the event, I started considering what things to do and buy. Knowing the personalities of the people coming over, they'd be happy to just crash and have booze coupled with something to munch, or make that something to shove in their mouths at every fraction of a twelfth of an hour.
As to what to serve, good thing my good friend Ainna brought me lunch at the start of that same week and, after tasting her delectable pasta sauce, a flash of genius made me want to try replicating her easy-to-prepare, high-quality, gourmet Italian creation. That and sausages because everybody loves good sausages and Santi’s have just the thing to fulfill this aspect of my idea of a feast. I eventually planed on getting herbs, which will, from that fateful night onwards, be labeled "kick-ass herbs" after it brought them otherwise ordinary olive oil sautéed sausages to a god-like state in the sausage-dish preparation branch of culinary science. Also, button potatoes. And young corn and mushrooms.
Night came and the visitors arrive. Dawn rose and they're still there. Were it not for the cramped space and lack of sleeping areas, I'd have felt confident that they all had a great time. Up to now, I think they were just polite in saying they did.
Now that I'm experienced to this sort of hosting bit, I think I'll get a hang of the next time which I hope could be as or even more enjoyable than my first.
Here's a first: me inviting people over in my house for something other than the usual one-hight-stand (and I still wish I were promiscuous and lucky like that). Fuck, I think the food wasn't much and I felt the house didn't have enough of a moving space for eight people. Still, we were loud and, for once, I got to out-noise my jologs neighbors who, out of pure envy I think, also decided to have a party last night. On a bloody Sunday. Theirs lasted until about 2am. I could not help but hear them talking from my bedroom window and their convo made me feel so sorry for their lack of humor, wit, and smarts.
How I got to agree on having people over is something that's worth another entry. For now, here are the pictures. More of these here.
Seeing this in stores made me all goldfishy inside. Moom-moom-moooooom, my heart went. It's a marketing concept that's undeniably well planned and executed. First there were 10s and now there are 5s. Tapping more of the stick sales market via convenient foil packed ciggies.
So Winston has long copied Marlboro 10s. Feh! But Marlboro would have had a far enough head start with this innovation before the competition catches up.
The sachets Marlboro 5s come with are displayed in sari-sari stores like, think shampoos, fabric softeners, coffee, creamers, and Boy Bawang, affordably priced at P7.50 a pack.
After close to two weeks, Play Underground, the wall-climbing gym facility at the 3rd Level Basement of the Power Plant Mall in Rockwell, Makati, now opens it's gates to the public with new, better, and improved walls for anyone and everyone.
As shown in the photo on the right, the over-all set-up has not changed. They retained what we snotty regulars call the "beginner's block," 6-columns of easy routes all placed side-by-side on the left portion of the wall. They had them colored blue, to match the mattress, maybe, I could only speculate.
Having been to many different wall-climbing facilities in the vicinity, what sets Play Underground apart from its competition is the well thought of physical arrangement of the "holds" they put up on those walls. The rocks are not just there in random order. They are placed there painstakingly, one by one, each serving a purpose, be it to make the inexperienced enjoy the introduction they will have to the sport or serve as a professional training facility to those who take on wall-climbing as a form of regular workout. The friendly staff who all exhibit and share much love for the sport often add coded tapes on some holds so regulars get a route that is as challenging as climbing the now beige-colored intimidating inclines.You will get to appreciate the science of the holds more once you set yourself off trying those over-hangs and over-clings and lactic-acid-inducing vertical-backward inclines.
The open-air setup dries the rock holds so they don't get moist and slippery, unlike those in Market Market and CSA Dasma. Dryness gives a somewhat reassuring feeling that the rocks you are holding are hygienic. Well, maybe not a hundred percent, but at least they're dry.
I decided to take a peek at the renovated playground on Sunday, just this afternoon, to find two still-bare columns that are still being treated with a face lift by the able Buddy Advincula of Play Underground. I got to talking to him and the staff telling them how over-excited I was when I found out they finally opened. Looking at the new walls made me wail in anticipation. They look fierce and may well be twice as inclined as they were before and therefore more challenging than ever. I fear it will take more than a month for me to get accustomed to the new challenges. On the bright side, we'll now have an edge come the next competition in November which we may join, hopefully.
There was a time, not too long ago yet so distant in technological aspects, when owning a 5110 makes you lord above those who own a Panasonic or Motorola's Microtac. When downloading ring tunes were unheard of and changing face-plates to suit your personality was the only thing there is for aesthetics. When there was nothing else to do. The need was simple and so was the identified and available solution: mobility in telecommunications. Marking an end to our bepper-slash-pager days.
In the advent of a raging war among manufacturers of feature-packed handhelds, when everyone dreams for the fabled iPhone to come to each of our shores, Motorola develops something for an untapped segment of the market. Along with their portfolio of state of the art clam-shell and candybar phones is something which may not be for me and you but which I would definitely get for the heck of owning one. Don't get me wrong. It's not a purchase that's compulsive nor impulsive. Seeing the display model at Avant made me want to get one right there and then if only it was already available. I'm talking about the MOTOFONE. And, if the sales person's pitch holds true, this would cost you well under PHP 1,500. Ok, I jacked the pricing up a bit because I would not like to get my hopes high. The sales person actually claimed for the phone to only cost PHP 990. Yes. That's a measly PHP 990! And that's not all... (trying desperately to sound like the As Seen On TV voice over).
The target market for the MOTOFONE are actually those who may not have used a mobile phone unit, ever. These are those who are in the remote suburbs, either living in bare subsistence or in relatively poor and under developed countries. It is the so-called answer to ultimately connecting our underprivileged brothers with the rest of us via telecoms.
The unit boasts to have a very long talk and standby time, owing to its screen display which looks like that of your trusty calculator. It doesn't have a menu but, in its stead, it has dedicated keys to access the phone's basic features. The matte-finish and robust construction is made to withstand rugged and harsh environmental elements. Color ranges from black to red and blue, says the official Motorola website for the MOTOFONE.
The MOTOFONE will be made available in February of 2007, again, if the sales pitch holds true.
It was more thrilling to fill in the promo card with the needed 21 stickers than finally getting to ultimately own the planner. The black synthetic leather cover makes it manly but the layout of the inside somewhat veers towards the feminine. The pen is mighty nice, though.
I do not think I will ever use it. I'll save it for my sister who had one in 2005. I think she'll like it more. I'll keep the pen, though.
Often, the prize of something we work hard for do not seem to live up to what we expect of it. Sometimes, it's just so plain in close scrutiny making it seem to be not worth the trouble.
It was once said that finally having the prize may not be as rewarding, even after so much expended effort. It is actually not the prize that you ultimately win from the exercise. It is much simpler than that.
Me: Saan banda rito mga dress socks nyo, miss? Lady: (gestures to her ID badge that read: "I'M DEAF")
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Their inventory line consists of various articles, even the likes of popcorn, gummy bears, slippers, hair products, undergarments, and various styles of clothing for almost all occasions. The list goes on. That's Bench. The supplier of all my boxer briefs from time immemorial.
This afternoon, I went inside one of their stores looking for socks. Mine's all soiled and I need fresh ones to last me until Wednesday, the day I get my clothes from the cleaners. I approached one unsuspecting sales person and asked where I could find them. The lady, about 5'2 in height, shoulder-length hair, charming and pretty, clean-looking and pleasant, was everything a helpful sales person ordinarily may look like. She then aimiably pointed at the ID hanging from her neck that read, "I'm Deaf." Without hesitation, I transferred all the articles I'm holding with my right hand to my left and lifted my jeans and pointed at the ankle socks underneath my Chucks. She nodded and guided me through the maze of shelves and racks until we came to the sock-section. I mouthed a heartfelt Thank you to which I got a smile in return before she shuffled her feet to go back to her post.
As I was paying for my purchases, I still can't get over that fact that Bench was considerate enough to have physically challenged people in their payroll. I wish other stores would follow suit. It gives the company character and warrants a whole different level of respect from their customers.
Admiration aside, I bet I can never live without some of Bench's stuff and never had I been inconvenienced in any of their stores. If only they could take out their glaring names from most of their clothes. It's a bit of a turn off sometimes. Quality and design-wise, their products are almost always already above par.
I once had this theory that even the most meek and reserved personalities have wild kinks and fantasies. It's just a matter time for them to manifest when they are ready. Yes, readiness is key. The ones who profess they do not have a wild side are most probably overcome by guilt thereby them ending up suppressing the inclination to do what they fear might be character-damaging or emotionally-wrenching to those closest to them. "Break my family's heart or follow my heart's desire?" Tough choice.
What I'm actually getting at is we only get to live once and there is no room nor time to regret not doing something which you are forever itching on trying out. On the premise that these inclinations are within normal societal bounds. Of course, being bad is much more exciting especially if you could pull it off without a hitch. No doubt about that. There are alternative ways to being naughty which will not necessarily make you dwell in that bad-ass lifestyle. I know of someone who has this perennial fantasy of becoming a wrestler-cum-rockstar who chose to be tattoo-and-piercings free to this very day despite him being of legal age. Old enough to make a harem of concubines, even. Point is, the sad fella has no venue for the fulfillment of his childhood dream. No Never Never Land to escape to. So suck the matter up in suppression or give it a try. Once is the only number of occurence when any deed or misdeed is excusable.
Thankfully, there's Halloween. The single, most fun-filled holiday which I think may have been partly created so normal individuals could live to be someone else other than themselves via costume parties and such. Change the way you look or talk, eye-color, have some pseudo-piercings, hell, even have some temporary tattoos made for this sole purpose!
I went to this party where we should be looking like rockstars. Heck, and like a rockin'-star I came! I even went all the way by immortalizing the look I did with the photo below. The finished output, thanks to my graphic-skills, also got me to look like some model for MTV or high-end print-ad! Says me, and corroborated by my ego, of course.
Um, sorry, fans, I don't sign autographs.
On our way home from the event, while walking along the most happening strip at Greenbelt 2, there's this foxy-hot rockstar babe who looked my direction, raised a hand gesture, and said "rock on!" I could only grin with delight. Damn, I looked the part that night.
Like clockwork, I always make it a point to drop by the Levi's store at the Glorietta whenever their show window sports a new ad. This time, it's the Redwire DLX, hyped to be the first ever iPod compatible jeans in the market. It has a control mechanism poised over the watch pocket area that can easily connect to an any-sized iPod. The watch pocket comes off and snaps on easily via buttons and velcro and with it comes all non-washable electronic-related parts. It also comes with a pair of customary-designed earphones. The denim has dark blue hue and is accented a prominently thicker white stitch detail that sets it apart from other current Levi's articles.
As only 540 units are available locally, you may only pre-order this baby via select Levi's outlets/stores. I have seen, first-hand, the engineering detail on one demo unit and I must say I must have been drooling with I-want-this-and-that-means-I-bloody-want-this reflected from my eyes when Eds, the most friendly sales person I have ever met and known, approached me and snapped me off my reverie. I asked her more on the details of the product. Eds said that for a very limited time, those who'd actually get a pair gets a free shirt and belt, like the ones worn by the model on the show-window. You don't only get cool jeans, you also get to look like the rockin' model! And they are so not kidding!
The jeans come in fits for both men and women. I asked Eds if she'd recommend for me to get one to which she replied I may not like the cut as they only come in Comfort Fit. She knew by heart, God bless her sweet soul, that I only get slim or narrow-leg jeans so I don't get to look shorter than I already am. Now THAT, my friends, is the essence of the pinnacle of customer service orientation!
The jeans may not suit my common purchases, but heck, I'd get a pair of this baby if only I have an iPod. Bummer. Visit your nearest Levi's stores to marvel at the Redwire DLX's beauty. You may also check out the Redwire DLX site via the links I provided on this post. They have FAQs there that might address all your "but... how... um, ok... but... but..." concerns.
There has been quite a stir in the Philippine graphic novel loving community at the inception and just-culmination of UNMASKED: The 1st Philippine Graphic/Fiction Award sponsored by Neil Gaiman in close cooperation with Fully Booked. The contest was launched sometime in October of 2005 with the actual award ceremony held on July 15, 2006 at the Rockwell tent. The link for the video below was sent to Neil via email by one of the minds behind the intro-animation shown at the event proper. One named Jason Tan.
It was just a little over a year ago when me and Ainna and a batallion of her graphic novel loving friends joined hoardes more of Gaiman-fans from all over the country if only for a glimpse or a chance to have personal copies of novels and comics and whatnots signed by one of the greatest living minds in the known world. The video reminds me more of how it is to have witnessed, first hand, what Neil meant by "wall of sound."
Thanks Jason Tan and company for sharing your masterful craft to those of us who have not been keen on following The 1st Philippine Graphic/Fiction Award.
Corroborating my door busting skills in under 48 hours
My mobile phone knocked my concentration off as it rang in the middle of a FullMetal Alchemist rerun. On the other line was a friend who had a rough day. She sounded cool with a frantic midtone in her voice asking for help on taking down the door of her apartment she apparently lost the keys to.
It's a Sunday and it's raining and it was just last Friday that I got to tear down the door knob off my bedroom door and the thought of having some emergency situation like this corroborate my new-found skill is just exhilirating, where even the term exhilirating failes to officially describe the thill of getting to do the deed all over again in a span of less than 48 hours!
You see, this series does not mean to show how strong or witty of elligible I am. It may, no doubt about it, but that's beside the point. The essence is to simply share a procedure that has been put to good use twice which warrants sharing if in any case anyone of you gets to be in some far-fetching situation where you are stuck outside a door with an ordinary door knob and you need a way in. Nothing fancy. Granting, of course, that it's your house's door you're tearing down. I figured it would really come in handy given the right situation and the right tool in hand.
I only had a pair of long nose pliers and it is all I ever needed. It is all you'll ever need.
Next post is a step-by-blow-by-blow-by-step account with pictures on how I got it done. Note that my friend's door had a double lock which posed more of a challenge compared to my initial project.
This three-part post should hopefully conclude in the next few days. Until then, be safe.
I slept three nights in a row in unsurpassed comfort, thanks to my recent purchase of great feather-pillows (see post before this). Be warned, though, as there's a downside I discovered just this afternoon.
On the side label, you may read a warning saying the product must be aired out before use. Something that I missed on doing. The result is a seepage of natural poultry smell through the pillow casing. I checked both my pillows and the stench is unmistakeable, having had times with fowls myself in a suburbian farmland. The label also suggested airing out the articles as often as needed. I had been carelessly stupid not to extensively search every nook of the net for cons before buying feather-pillows on instinct. It felt so right, which all the more makes this particular flaw inexcuseable!
I will not lose hope, though, as a customer review of one goose-down feather pillow owner said a day of hanging in an open-air clothes line will help eliminate animal odor. And, since it had been raining for more than a week now, airing them out is not an option at this time. If that does not get the stink off, I hope to God that drycleaning could.
On drycleaning or washing, depending on what the label on your pillows say is appropriate, I have also read that putting in tennis balls with the pillow when having it spun dry would do wonders to not have the feather collect to some lumpy mass inside the pillow casing at the end of the process. Tennis balls (three balls is optimal) or clean tennis shoes, whichever is readily available.
I will make it a point to update you on my struggle to not make this investment regrettable. Bummer!
It has been ages since I last bought sleeping pillows. Six years, actually, and they had not been washed since, although I make it a point to replace their casings every one or two weeks. Every other week at the max. No more than that. It leaves me feeling uneasy if I don't. I could bet my Html skills off that at least 80% of humans succumb to the same shamefully disgusting and unhygienic passivity I have towards my sleeping pillows. We sweat our heads off on them every single night, making them a breeding ground for bacteria and, eventually, dust mites who may in turn give us allergies. Dreadful, I know, yet the idea easily escapes the minds of normal, living beings.
Just last week, the inevitable happened. I asked our company doctor to have the sides of my wrists checked for what seems like traces of allergic manifestations. What I did not disclose, however, was the fact that I also had traces of the same micro-protrusions and terribly itchy sores on the insides of both my thighs, albeit barely noticeable to the naked eye. She gave me anti-histamines to hopefully counter the allergens causing my discomfort. She was thinking I got the sores from dust mites, whose portrait I had kindly provided here for your viewing displeasure. Note that this image is magnified several hundred times such that, as DrGreene.com puts it, "30,000 of these tiny creatures [could be found] in one ounce of dust." Just fucking beautiful!
Two days had gone but the itching sensation persisted. I had been controlling the strong urge to scratch but I do not know how much longer I could put the compulsion off. I again went for consultation and asked for a topical cream or anything that could probably provide me faster relief. With a prescription in hand and a firm conviction at heart, I set out to buy the blasted cream cursing that I would, from that moment onwards, do everything I could to analyze what events happened within the last week or two that made me have the allergic-reactions-cum-dust-mite-induced blisters.
Culprit number one was a container-full of my comicbooks our house helper brought in my room which probably had colonies of silverfishes and thousands of microscopic what-have-yous that may have served as a breeding ground for the mites. The said box had not been opened nor aired out for the longest time (read five or so years) making it one perfectly passive agar plate. As she set it down in one corner of my bedroom, the thump may have shifted the box's contents which in turn stirred the mites inside from their reverie. I returned the box back to the living room where it originally was. I then began spraying Lysol all over like a mad death eater in an all-out Adavra Kedavra frenzy. I followed on with a timely anti dust mite solution I had found earlier at the grocery store. It smelt like apple and linen all over my room. I hurriedly went out and closed the door shut behind me to make sure the mist seeps through every crack and covers every square inch of exposed surface area.
That night, right before sleeping, I got my pillows, vengefully slid them in a large garbage bag, and threw them away. Heck, the thought of having a whole network of dust mites inside a pillow placed between my thighs as I sleep gave me the shivers, evidenced by me instantly manifesting goosebumps on my goosebumps.
I slept without pillows that night. A situation that lasted me two uneasy sleep cycles.
Over the weekend, I made an effort to hunt for affordable and dust mite warding pillows (if ever there were any, which at the time I had no clue over) to replace my loss. I got me goose down feather pillows at True Value. You read it right, I now am sleeping like a royalty in the confines of my own room. What more, I could look forward to a pillow-fight where feathers would actually fly around as the casing tears instead of ugly lumps of cotton or polycotton or polyester threads bouncing about. Besides, those queen-sized, sleep-well pillows cost around like P500 when a goose down counterpart would only cost you P700. I got two king-sized ones for a couple of hundred more, each (whose brand, by the way, is Majestic bought from True Value at the Rockwell). It says in the pretective plastic cover that the pillows are machine washable, hypo-allergenic, and dust-mite proof. Plus, words would definitely fail me if I were to describe how my first two nights of sleeping on them felt like.
Thankfully, all traces of allergies on me had gone.
I can now hear my pillows calling my name. I wish you pleasant dreams as off to bed I'll go.
In parting, remember, don't let the dust mites bite.
People process thoughts at a pace: one after another. They could either be simple or complex, oftentimes formless. Some with hyper metabolic rates have a thought process pace that is faster than others. Crazies have random thoughts that do not go through normal processing and the pace could overlap giving it no sense at all. Pluck a single thought, give it form through words, mesh it with other related thoughts, and you get a blog.
I want to be lots of things, mostly fictional. Sometimes I space out thinking I'm cool and smart and witty, and I think I'm doing a great job having others think that way, too. And I know you think all these are just crap! I'll drink to that! Cheers!
<h2 class="sidebar-title">Top Hits Jukebox</h2>
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<p><center><embed allowScriptAccess="never"src="http://pre-made-playlists.50webs.com/player.swf" menu="false" quality="high" style="filter:none" bgcolor="EEEEEE" bgcolor="000000" width="260" height="300" name="index" allowScriptAccess="never" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer" flashvars="playList=http://pre-made-playlists.50webs.com/poqbum_playlist10001.xml&ShowPlaylist=1&ShowEQ=1&firstTrack=40&initVol=100" wmode="transparent" /></embed></center></p><p><center><a href="http://www.poqbum.com">Click HERE to get a Music Player</a></center></p>
I rent a small-ass place, a 2-storey apartment in the old residential area of Makati. For entertainment, I have this small, for-kitchen-sized, thirteen-glorious-inches of cathode-ray-transmitting cable-hooked TV that I won from a raffle last year. It is propped on a stand facing a decent living room with a couch and throw pillows. I have a dining table with chairs and a fairly workable kitchen with a space-saving single-burner stove, a small oven, and an array of other necessary kitchen stuff and utensils. The house is not something I could have people drop their jaws at in awe which is why I never considered inviting anybody over. Ever.
Seeing this in stores made me all goldfishy inside. Moom-moom-moooooom, my heart went. It's a marketing concept that's undeniably well planned and executed. First there were 10s and now there are 5s. Tapping more of the stick sales market via convenient foil packed ciggies.
It was more thrilling to fill in the promo card with the needed 21 stickers than finally getting to ultimately own the planner. The black synthetic leather cover makes it manly but the layout of the inside somewhat veers towards the feminine. The pen is mighty nice, though.
I slept three nights in a row in unsurpassed comfort, thanks to my recent purchase of great feather-pillows 
Just last week, the inevitable happened. I asked our company doctor to have the sides of my wrists checked for what seems like traces of allergic manifestations. What I did not disclose, however, was the fact that I also had traces of the same micro-protrusions and terribly itchy sores on the insides of both my thighs, albeit barely noticeable to the naked eye. She gave me anti-histamines to hopefully counter the allergens causing my discomfort. She was thinking I got the sores from dust mites, whose portrait I had kindly provided here for your viewing displeasure. Note that this image is magnified several hundred times such that, as 
