11 CommentsSilver Fox
Sigh.
It wasn’t a surprise, yet I somehow still feel disappointed. It was a not-so-titanic battle between the person who was never in the bottom, versus the person who in spite of several shaky performances, managed to kick even chris out of the competition. The Kat-pack and Mcpheever versus the Soul-Patrol. I shouldn’t feel so bad though, Kat’s probably signed with some other record label, and will definitely still look better endorsing products than Taylor.
One thought for Taylor: Where’s Reuben today?
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Disappointment aside, I’m happier today than I have been in the past few weeks. I’ve come up with a thought that, although suntok sa buwan, has rekindled my somewhat flagging desire to be a doctor. I still have to do some research on it (sorry, I don’t really want to mention it out loud because I might jinx it), and see whether or not a market for it exists. But bottom line is I’m happy, Taylor nothwithstanding. 
Going nowhere.
24 hours ago, I was on my way to Baguio, and now I’m back with several items I managed to snag in ukay-ukay. Two words for these stores: Floor plan. You can literally get lost in these places. You go up one rinky-dink set of stairs, tread on bouncy floors, pass through unexpected doors (one door led to a hot tin rooftop!) passing the same stores several times before you (or the saleslady) realizes your error. Good luck trying to ever find the fire exit if ever.
Its slightly disturbing to see underwear among the secondhand goods. I guess, if you really think about it, it shouldn’t be as bad as using restaurant flatware. Think of all the people who’ve used it before you!
Just a thought
The 40-year old virgin
Sancho is Feliz’s dog. To me, he is like the cuuuutest lab I’ve ever seen. Endowed with a big head, big paws, and short stubby legs, a lot of people think that he’s still a puppy! He’s actually six already (that makes him, uh, 42?) and unfortunately, because of these short stubby legs, he’s unable to mount the (usually) taller bitches. Not even an army of shooters could help him. He’s tried several times without success. sniff.
Is it any wonder he looks the way he does in this picture?
Please, lets make this world a better place. Lets make Sancho happy. Help find him a short bitch (preferably with a big head too…). Black or yellow, it doesn’t matter (one of his parents was black). Let’s give him something to smile about!
So long, E-train
Went to the range with my brother again. Watched some Israeli special agents practicing their tradecraft. After several trips to the range, I now have the luxury of enjoying the esoteric aspects of the sport - from the way the ejected shells gracefully arc through the air, to the way GSR lightly powders your arms after firing off a clip. I have that luxury because I have come to the realization that my groupings will always suck. So, to get the most bang for my buck (or my brother’s buck) I think my best bet is just to make the target rat-rat. Nothing does that better than a shotgun! Besides, you get smaller ricochets
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Well, its down to the final two on American Idol. Judging from the reactions of people (okay, the three people I talked to afterward) Elliot fans will probably go for Mcphee. Although I think that during the competition proper she has the tendency to sound a little strained, she still sounds great when she sings non-competitively. Besides, as a friend of mine said "would you buy an album if it had Taylor or Elliot on the cover?" Seriously?
‘Tis the season
I’ve always disliked twilight. I get all antsy, dithering between boredom and getting a feeling between like something is supposed to happen – that I should be doing something more important than staring at a computer screen. The ennui was magnified further by the current weather. There’s nothing like the smell of wet soil and fading sunlight to elicit a sensation of unrest.
The one good thing wrought about the weather has been the increase in the number of “gamo-gamo.” It allows me to use that wonderful fantastic toy: the portable bug zapper. Y’know the thing that looks like a tennis racket? I first encountered this thing last Christmas when my dad showed it to me. I was so fascinated that I lugged the thing all the way back from Europe, believing there was no such thing back home. Surprise! What the heck was I thinking! This after all is the country with 168. The stupid zapper could be had for only 80 bucks. It amazes me how many cheap (in every sense of the word) things can be had there. All the things you don’t really need for less than half the cost under one roof! Don’t get me wrong, I absolutely love the place, but after my latest foray there, I actually got dizzy from all the glittering lights, the variety of goods, and all the “pili lang diyan, kuya” coming from all sides. All that stuff, and I’ll I got was a hand-held UV light, a gag pen, a USB charger set for my PDA (which actually works!) and a watch I bought simply for the strap (I’m still waiting for the watch to conk out before I harvest the straps). If it wasn’t for the charger, it would’ve hardly seemed worth all that gas and the parking fee.
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Where does shawarma sauce go? I swear, I keep slathering copious amounts of the stuff on my pita bread, turning it an (icky) shade of white, but in just a few minutes, its all gone,necessitating another dollop of the stuff.
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What is it with today’s commercials? I’m especially amused by sanitary napkin commercials. These days its so graphic, I’m half expecting them to use chunky red goop for their demos. They also highlight “issues” that would otherwise go unnoticed. Napkins with smell-guard? I can’t recall the last time I passed by a woman and noticed a smell. I guess it’ll all come into play when we all regress and start sniffing each others butts like dogs. Then again, anyone who’s had to monitor post-partum patients in a rooming-in unit would probably appreciate it.
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Blame the twilight. I’m all antsy after all.
Taking one for the team
I took a bullet near my crotch yesterday!
Actually, I got hit by a ricochet at the firing range. Some guy decided to shoot the target in the adjacent bay and his bullet hit the side-wall. Through some miracle of physics, the bullet bounced all over the place and hit me dab smack on my inner thigh. A little bit higher, and my left nut would’ve been mighty sore. Not everyone can claim to have been hit by a .45 caliber FMJ slug, and have it just bounce off.
My brother has become quite the gun nut. After accompanying him to the range several times, I still cannot reconcile the thought of spending 8 to 18 pesos per round (it’s the shotgun shells that cost 18 bucks). After shooting up a target, it’s usually another box of 50 rounds please – thank you very much. Sorry bro, if it’s all the same, I’d rather hit the water. Granted, the shotgun was a blast!
And so this is how I’ve been spending my post-exam days: Doing nothing overtly productive. To occupy my time, I decided to finally get my own dive gear. There comes a time when you finally decide that the wet suit you pee in may as well be your own. Thus, after the thrill of hunting down reasonably priced gear (read: cheap) and finally purchasing the basics (mask, snorkel, fins, wetsuit, and BCD), I’ve come to a sobering realization – now I can’t dive because my budget won’t allow it (read: I’m broke)
With this impetus, I’ve decided to enter the ranks of the (somewhat) gainfully employed. No more 24 hour duties for this brat, nay! It’s HMO or bust! And so after asking around, I’ve decided to apply to a particular HMO near my house. To apply, I had to make my curriculum vitae. Which lead me to another sobering realization: My life story can fit on a pin-head. It’s like after all these years of study, this is what you amount to: Squat.
Sigh. Can I put the nut-defying, bullet-to-the-crotch experience on my resume?
