Losing 2009

10mins before 2010...

I will shed a tear for all the things... people I lost.

And smile...

For all the things... people I gained. Because seriously... God IS good. And we should never lose sight of THAT.


***If I can't have you, let love set you free to fly your pretty wings around.

(We love you, Mark Reyes.)

THAT GIRL.

This made me cry... because...

I remember her oh so well.

THE "ONE" ACTUALLY HAS A GPS.

Gosh "The One" where the Hell are you already! Sheesh! Homegirl needs some help over here!!!

.....
.....

Ok, no I don't need help. Seriously. Just a friend... and someone to split the bill with or he could shoulder like 75%... and likes that I write for a living and actually READS some of my stuff... someone I can kiss and hug and sleep with and f*ck on occasion ON COMMAND and is completely acquiescent when it comes to all the lovey dovey things that I want and understands when I'm not in the mood for anything except to watch Law and Order and eat potato chips... and let's me ramble about the mundane and the not-so-mundane but also knows when to shut me up with his insights and his looks. Because when you're THAT good, you can get me by just a look. And no, I don't need a baby daddy but loving my daughter as if she were your own is the absolute MINIMUM of this relationship.

http://michellecallanta.multiply.com/journal/item/285

(entry dated July 19, 2009)

....

Wow.

He found me. The aforementioned friend I needed...
only...
it seems...
he shoulders more than 75% of the bill on most days. *blush*


.....
.....
.....


Ask and you shall receive, bitches. (HAHAHAHAHA, that was so out of place but I just felt like saying it like that. =)









Footnote:

I stumbled upon the abovementioned realization as I was tracking a specific user (a blast from the not-so-pleasant past) who apparently has been keeping the occasional tabs on me and can't seem to get it around her ugly little head that "stalking" should be done with ninja-like sneaky precision.

Girls can be so stupid. Ugh.

Betrayal.

“There are two varieties of betrayal. The first one, everyone is familiar with. That is the betrayal  of a moment, the impulsive act that destroys years of trust in one fell strike. That is the suddenly revealed secret, the sudden uncharacteristic infidelity. Everyone has heard stories about that kind of betrayal. The other kind is harder to identify and perhaps even more damaging. It is betrayal via accumulation, and neither party – the betrayer or the betrayed – may be aware of it, at least not at first. Even in the end, after the damage is apparent, they still may not be aware of it as betrayal, but betrayal it is. Accumulation. An accumulation of moments, or perhaps more accurately, an erosion of promises. In artists, it may be the betrayal of their talent: day after day, spurning their muse, postponing their art, until nothing is left but the ashes of possibilities. In lovers, it happens when one listens to the other voices. Little annoyances, perhaps, little fears. There is a true pure voice that runs under a true love, I believe – otherwise, it is merely the satisfaction of impulses, romantic or lustful. But everyone has doubts. All loves, true or not, have troubles. It may be that your lover truly is not the one for you, and a leavetaking is in order. But it may also be that you are swallowing daily doses of a poison. Betrayal happens. It happens because you are weak.”


...I needed a reminder.

WHAT. THE. F*CK. IS. THIS. F*CKERY?

THIS IS WHAT RESPLENDENT HAIR LOOKS LIKE ------------------------------->

Update: Danee won the costume party as URSULA.

Maybe... Chaoku Spray Hair really is the way to go. =P

(Chad and Danee made her costume while Leo De Castro did makeup and hair. =)

Cuz we take our contests SERIOUSLY. =p

........


I don't know how this passed customs or how the department of... I dunno... health??? allowed this to product to actually make it to our department store shelves so poor, unassuming customers ---- LIKE OUR EDITORIAL ASSISTANT DANEE ---- would buy it.

Like. Seriously.

(This sh*t made me laugh like CRAZY though. =)


****Note: Everything in italics, I typed in AS IS. And I mean, AS HOW I READ IT ON THE GODDAMN THING. So I suggest you READ THAT SH*T OUT LOUD. <----This is an ugly ass emoticon, by the way.

So without further ado...

Introducing:

CHAOKU: Colour Spray Hair

Product Description:

With the design of the uper ages make show the hair to become resplendent and multicolored immediately send out the ray of light of the diamond sort and fix the hair style, moistenning the hair. Let the advanced hair color in your jet go together with the underclothing, much make your life more many adopted.

Directions:

Operation method: Using the front must is well this article shake the, then fuck the hair spray for good. Can use a the sort shampooes cleaning.

Caution:

Easy !Spraying the hour neighborhood can't use clear fire or smokings, doing not want to be at the temperature over 50.C environment next usage, doing not want will spray the liquid eye last. the product should place at the place that child can not touch.


(Let's just hope that Danee's hair doesn't fall out after using this, hahahahahaha!!!)

WHAT I MISS.

Honestly... all I want is to be with these three crazy/beautiful ladies for Christmas. =(

I miss my sisters. (Even Roni sometimes, because driving to Fairview is a B*TCH)

For those who aren't close to their siblings... y'all should really make an effort. They may actually be the "bestfriend" you've been looking for. I know these three will be my bestest and closest friends EVER, no matter what happens... or how many times my heart is broken, or how many times I'm annoyed at my parents, or how many times I falter and fail and fuck up. (Ok, maybe not Paula because she and I were raised to have two of the most opposing views as far as sisters are concerned and because I was never cool enough to be her friend --- LOL! --- but I totally love her. HAHAHAHAHA!!!)

All I know is that I'd walk thru Hell and back and back again for these three.

"THE ONE"

"I am not expecting, demanding, asking nor would i have you wishing i were "the one". That's really not your wish to make. That's my role to fill." ---Paolo Toledo

PREACH. IT!!!!!! Shit. High-five man! Sheesh! I am so in love with this fucking line. It is a POWER. LINE. God. (Baby. Are you reading this? You are a fucking genius.) I love what you said. So much.... I wanna make love to it. Yeah. That's it. I wanna make love to this brilliant fucking insight and have babies with it. I want more brilliant baby insights.

Jeez fucking louise.

....

(Then aforementioned genius boyfriend whose brilliant insights I would want to have babies with continues on by saying...)

"I want to and will try my best to be the one for you. You and Psyche. Or at least to be who and what i can be and hope that it will be deserving enough for you to choose me to be "the one". Although i have apprehensions in believing in the intangible aspect of having someone out there - one specific person in the whole melting pot - as "the one" who has been made for and destined to be perfect for you since the dawn of life, do know that i believe that (as with love) "the one" is a choice. A mold that we have and how people will try to fit into that mold, or at least close to it. And how we will also adjust THAT mold along the way, as we experience life and other people.

All until we find someone that fits well into the mold because we actually adjusted it for them...because we want them to fit. And without any effort nor struggle. It's a choice we make. How one chooses to try to be the one, and how the other chooses to accept the former as such."


.....
.....
.....


Today is my first "monthsary" with my boyfriend.

Yes.

I know.

It is stupid.

And I. don't. care.

Because I am FUCKING elated. And I take great pride and joy in the triviality of that stupid announcement.

Because he and I reached one month together. One beautiful month. And I waited to have this month happen. To have more months happen the way this past month happened. And I am not sorry. And I am relieved. And I am grateful. And I am secretly patting myself on the back and whispering under my breath, "Good job, Michelle! You are fucking awesome, and one lucky little slizzle."


......
......
......


And I know I owe my lovestory.

And I'll get to it. I promise.

***I have a crush on him in this picture    ----------------------------->

Yeah. =P

But right now, I just want to live my lovestory a little longer before I have to sit down without him just to write about him and me.

Right now... I just want to share how happy I am.

I hope that's ok.

WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU WAITING FOR, NICK?

"GO AFTER HER. FUCK, DON’T SIT THERE AND WAIT FOR HER TO CALL, GO AFTER HER BECAUSE THAT’S WHAT YOU SHOULD DO IF YOU LOVE SOMEONE, DON’T WAIT FOR THEM TO GIVE YOU A SIGN CAUSE IT MIGHT NEVER COME, DON’T LET PEOPLE HAPPEN TO YOU, DON’T LET ME HAPPEN TO YOU, OR HER, SHE’S NOT A FUCKING TELEVISION SHOW OR TORNADO. THERE ARE PEOPLE I MIGHT HAVE LOVED HAD THEY GOTTEN ON THE AIRPLANE OR RUN DOWN THE STREET AFTER ME OR CALLED ME UP DRUNK AT FOUR IN THE MORNING BECAUSE THEY NEED TO TELL ME RIGHT NOW AND BECAUSE THEY CANNOT REGRET THIS AND I ALWAYS THOUGHT I’D BE THE ONLY ONE DOING CRAZY THINGS FOR PEOPLE WHO WOULD NEVER GIVE ENOUGH OF A FUCK TO DO IT BACK OR TO ACT LIKE IDIOTS OR BE ENTIRELY VULNERABLE AND HONEST AND MAKING SOMEONE FALL IN LOVE WITH YOU IS EASY AND FLYING 3000 MILES ON FOUR DAYS NOTICE BECAUSE YOU CAN’T JUST SIT THERE AND DO  NOTHING AND BREATHE INTO TELEPHONES IS NOT EVERYONE’S IDEA OF LOVE BUT IT IS THE WAY I CAN RECOGNIZE IT BECAUSE THAT IS WHAT I DO. GO SCREAM IT AND BE WITH HER IN MEANINGFUL WAYS BECAUSE THAT IS BEAUTIFUL AND THAT IS GENEROUS AND THAT IS WHAT LOVING SOMEONE IS, THAT IS RAW AND THAT IS UNGUARDED, AND THAT IS ALL THAT IS WORTH ANYTHING, REALLY."

........

........

"Nick" is merely a representation of every single guy too scared to do ANYTHING about it. Whatever (or whoever) "it" may be.

Note: Nick is a fictional character. A figment of my imagination. (Promise)

He makes me feel...

like a million dollar bill.


Preach it, Ms. Houston.

Much ado about nothing.

I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

--- Pablo Neruda

....

Guess you can't really blog about being in love when you're busy being in it. *shrugs*

....

On that note...

I'll talk about something else.

Like... facebook. (once again)

Disclaimer: This is not out of hate or social snobbishness.

So...

What's up with the whole "being someone's 'facebook friend'" phenomenon? I mean, I really don't understand this (ok, maybe it's because I don't have an "FB" but still). Like... you (or in this case, I) say something like... "Oh hey it's nice to have met you, glad you know my sister, I'll tell her we met, what's your name again?" and the person replies something like, "Oh I'm __________, yeah I don't know if she remembers me but we're friends on facebook so just tell her."

Like... seriously???? This actual response has found its way into our vocabulary and daily tete-a-tete?!

When did this happen???

When did people start considering a personal relationship a personal one on FB??? It's like... knowing someone's personal life, impersonally... and that's what makes it personal all of a sudden by society's standards.

Gosh.

I wish I could say something like, "Yeah, Johnny Depp is my "neighbor" on multiply. I totally know the guy."

I. Totally. Wish.

------------------------------> I'd like to "facebook friend" me up some o' that... (Hahahaha!)

And... and... and...

How do you really get to know someone by way of "status message"?

(Yesterday, my lovely FB obsessed little sister sends me a text message on how some douchebag-poser-wanna-be-filipino who thinks being filipino is to wear a barong, drink redhorse and tanduay and point with your mouth (what a douche, right?) COMMENTED on her status about her calling the red paint she bought to paint her room "communist china red" paint.)

Apparently, he said something like, "I think Valentino Red is a better term."

As a result---

Beloved sister was annoyed out of her mind. (As aforementioned poser "white" guy wanna-be Filipino has already made some other obnoxious comment on a past status message.)

Can't you "remove friend" or "block" people like that? (Or better yet, have that particular dude deported back to a Obamaland, a country which he obviously gets NO love from.)

But I digress...

I. still. don't. get. it. *sigh*

***And as I'm rereading this... I noticed that even at this point... I still don't have a point. But I'm hoping y'all find one in there somewhere.

But yeah. People tell me "it's fun!" and that I would've gotten a boyfriend earlier had I put an account up.

*shrugs*

Now even though this would be an impeccable time to talk about how "cool" I am by not having a facebook and furthermore sharing my "awesome" relationship by way of not having a facebook...

I'm hung-over.

And I have a stiff neck.

So I am going to end this semi-pointless blog by saying...

If we can't completely un-succumb ourselves to this age of digitalization...

I think an "email" is the best courtship tool EVER.

(a far second to the actual hand-written love letter... but second, nonetheless.)

***And that had absolutely no connection to my Facebook rant about "facebook friends and status messages" but I wanted to say it anyway because... I wanted to be romantic and cute.

...

I noticed that I kinda went "quotation mark"-happy.

"Sorry."

And... I was totally kidding about the whole "I'm cool because I don't have a facebook part" (but only that as my relationship is pretty awesome right now, esp. w/o FB). Perhaps... I am just a "social snob." And that's not really all that cool at all.

Damned disclaimer.

A GIFT FOR PSYCHE.

                                    I just want to make this little girl happy. *sigh*






***But I seriously don't know what to get her for Christmas. =(

(I could marry Barney... or one of the Backyardigans. But that relationship won't last for very long, I'm sure.)

TECH SUPPORT

Someone SERIOUSLY has to change this. (Even though... it seemed like a good idea at the time.)

http://gadgetsmagazine.com.ph/content/ms-michelle-callanta-lifestyle-editor

ALL I WANT FOR CHRISTMAS...

***Disclaimer: I am not want of anything. I have been blessed so much already this year, what with a loving family, awesome friends, a ridiculously beautiful and savant-like daughter, amazing colleagues, a kick-ass job, a lovely home, food on the table, and a really really good guy worthy enough to keep me acquiescently on that proverbial "ball and chain." (Got me one of those just before Christmas, hahaha. =)

But hey, I TOTALLY wouldn't mind having ANY of the following for Christmas.

 

 

 

Christmas Wishlist:

 

1.    Janylin Silver Pumps

 

2.       The Spa GCs

3.       Lip Plumper

4.       Queen-sized bedsheet set

5.       Wacoal bras

6.       Oldschool Levi’s Type One Jeans

7.       Maybelline liquid foundation

8.       More taffeta dresses!

9.       A nice wallet

10.   A 50ml bottle of Acqua de Gio

11.   A dishrack / dryer

12.   A lot of bottles of Asti's

13.   A nice pair of Jackie-O shades

14.   An assortment of black hipster underwear

15.   A body pillow

16.   Flipflops (from Flojos)

17.   A two-piece from Speedo

18.   A pair of fresh-look contact lenses (they're buy one-take one)

19.   A huge-ass sturdy heavy-duty black purse

20.   An array of lovely long false lashes

 

 

And these...

Well...

These are the things my dad could probably get me if I... ask really really nicely.

 

 

1.       No-frost refrigerator

2.       Lenovo Ideacenter

3.       PSP Slim with that Zuma game in it!!!

4.       A black leather sofa bed

5.       Asus Eee PC or any other netbook

6.       Any flat screen tv

7.       Samsung IT100 with the beauty shot function

8.       Nokia 6700

9.       THAT STEAM OVEN FROM THE HOME SHOPPING NETWORK!!!

10.   A paint job for my car (black)

 

***And maybe... a plane ticket to LA. *tee-hee* (I hope Luis is reading this. HAHAHAHA!)

Introducing...

The boyfriend.



......
......
......

The love story will have to come later.

This is just the prologue.

THE JOHN

               A drunk person's worst nightmare... or at least, biggest challenge EVER.






***Taken at the Bosch Plant in Malaysia where I fell into an 8-second panic (I kid you not) as I tried to figure out just... how exactly... do... I...

*shrugs*

Good thing I wasn't wearing heels.

SURPRISE.

Even after all of my ranting and complaining and over-analyzing and pseudo-soul searching and preacher-man preaching and... well... just plain...

Whining... *shrugs*

God still manages to give me really really nice surprises.

Case in point:

 

 

And the point being?

*drumroll please*

 

..........

 

Dating. Is. Fun.

Yes.

And I am amazed by this newfangled revelation.

...

I should have dated a looooooooong time ago.

POETRY FOR MY BEAUTIFUL DAUGHTER, PSYCHE CALYPSO.

 

She is gonna call me point “B”
So no matter what happens
She can always find her way to me
And I’m going to paint the solar system
On the backs of her hands
So she has to learn the entire universe
Before she can say “oh, I know that like the back of my hand”
And she’s gonna learn that this life will hit you
Hard in the face, wait for you to get back up
So it can kick you in the stomach but
Getting the wind knocked out of you
Is the only way to remind your lungs
How much they like the taste of air
There is hurt here that cannot be fixed by
Bandaids or poetry so the first time you realise
That Wonder Woman isn’t coming don’t feel like
You have to put the cape on all by yourself
Because no matter how wide you stretch your fingers
Your hands will always be too small to
Catch all the pain you want to heal
Believe me, I’ve tried and “baby” I’ll tell her
“Don’t keep your nose up in the air like that
I know that trick, I’ve done it a million times.
You’re just sniffing for smoke so you can
Follow the trail back to a burning house
So you can find the boy who lost everything in the fire
To see if you can nurse him back to health
Or else find the boy who lit the fire in the first place
To see if you can change him
But I know that you will anyway”, so instead
I’ll always keep an extra supply of chocolate and rainboots nearby
Because there’s no heartbreak that chocolate can’t fix
Ok there’s a few heartbreaks that chocolate can’t fix
But that’s what the rainboots are for because
Rain can wash away everything if you let it and
I want her to see the world through the underside
Of a glass-bottom boat, to look through a microscope at the
Galaxies that exist on the pinpoint of a human mind because
That’s the way my mum taught me, that there’ll be days like this
“There’ll be days like this” my mama said, when you’ll
Open your hands to catch and wind up with only bruises and blisters
When you’ll step out of the phone booth and try to fly
And the very people you want to save are the ones
Standing on your cape. When your rain boots will fill with rain
And you’ll be up to your knees in disappointment and
Those are the very days you have all the more reason to say thank you
Because there is nothing more beautiful than the way the ocean refuses
To stop kissing the shoreline no matter how many times it’s sent away
“Baby” I’ll tell her “remember that every person you pass on the street
has a grandparent who went through hardship so they could be here
and friendships are always worth trying to build despite
all the splinters you may get, remember your mama was a worrier
and your papa was a warrior and you are the girl with
Big eyes and small hands who never stops asking for more
Remember that good things come in threes and so do bad things and
Always apologise when you’ve done something wrong but
Don’t you ever apologise for the way your eyes refuse to stop shining
Your voice is small but don’t ever stop singing when they
Finally hand you heartbreak, when they give you war and anger
When they slip hatred under your doorstep, when they offer you handouts
On street corners of cynicism and defeat you tell them
That they really need to meet your mother.

 

 

***Thanks Pao. *hugs*

DEF POETRY FOR THE EX.

***Part 1 and Part 2 of Wife... Woman... Friend.

......

Beyonce's "Single Ladies" ain't got nothin' on this.

Dana Gilmore PREACHES it.

 

Psyche.

 

.................

 

And she's all mine... *beams proudly*

All f*cking mine.

WHY I DO WHAT I DO.

"For you," he said.

...

i do it for the joy it brings
because i'm a joyful girl
because the world owes me nothing
and we owe each other the world
i do it because it's the least i can do
i do it because i learned it from you
i do it just because i want to
because I want to

everything i do is judged
and they mostly get it wrong
but oh well
'cuz the bathroom mirror has not budged
and the woman who lives there can tell
the truth from the stuff that they say
and she looks me in the eye
and says would you prefer the easy way?
no, well o.k. then
don't cry

and i wonder if everything i do
i do instead
of something i want to do more
the question fills my head
i know that there's no grand plan here
this is just the way it goes
and when everything else seems unclear
i guess at least i know

i do it for the joy it brings...

..........

 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JokZeceao74

God help us.

BOMBSHELL, MY ASS.

This is for my sister... who, despite the unusual amount of misfortune she seems to attract, will always ALWAYS have my full-on, all-out support when it comes to her sharing her grievances as well as her accomplishments.

Unfortunately...

*cue Alfred Hitchcock suspense-thriller background musical score*


.....


Her "bombshell feature" in Uno Magazine's September 2009 issue was absolutely (and I mean, ABSO-fucking-LUTELY)...

Ridiculous.

***Hell, I wanna laugh because I can't even find the words to describe just how DISGUSTING the illustrations (yes they were illustrations, NOT photos) of her were. The article was fine.Typical of the Uno Mag that I've grown to like so much.

But damn...

I could barely look at the GARBAGE that was SUPPOSED to be MY SISTER.

Like *cue valleygirl ditzie sarcasm* SERIOUSLY?

SERIOUSLY?

*deep breath*

Ok.

I work for a magazine. Been working for one for three years. Been lifestyle editor for about a year and a half. Now, I'm not gonna say that I'm a fucking guru when it comes to the business but I AM GONNA SAY that I know what looks good. I know THAT frikkin' much. And my beautiful, Teresa Herrera-looking little sister DID NOT LOOK GOOD IN THOSE ILLUSTRATIONS. And what I wanna know is ----- WHO THE HELL ALLOWED THOSE HIDEOUS, AMATEUR WORKS TO BE PRINTED???!!!! Did not ONE PERSON during the ENTIRE PROOFING PROCESS have the brains and the discerning eye and the BALLS to say, "Hey! These drawings are ugly as fuck. What the Hell is this crap? Is this a joke??? Are we really gonna put these in here? Where are the actual photos? Why don't we just steal some photos from Veronica's multiply and use those instead since we're already pressed for time?"

At this point, y'all are probably gonna try to google the pics (or maybe even go as far as actually buying a copy just to satisfy your curiousity)... which is fine (I mean, "whatevs," right?) So I guess it would be ok to mention that those fugly-ass drawings of my sister were NUDE. Fine. Nude. I GET "NUDE". Hell, I DID "nude" when I was in college, lying down in front of 30+ art students buck nekkid as they moved from one spot of the room to the other to try to draw as many angles of me as possible. And I did that shit FOR FREE. I just got to choose whoever's drawing I liked to keep as my own.

I still have it ---- AND IT LOOKED GOOD. I looked like fucking Rose in Titanic.

Nude is fine. But UNO MAGAZINE'S PORTRAYAL OF MY LITTLE SISTER'S BODY WAS A LIE. A lie. And THAT'S A PROBLEM.

They should've just pasted her head onto Olivia Wilde's kickass body instead and called it "art" or whatever the people at UNO think "art" should be. (I use the term "people" loosely as I dunno who wants to own up to the dumbfuck decision of sticking with those illustrations.)

WHO WAS AT PROOFING?! By the way, for those who don't know, "proofing" is when the editors and art/creative directors get together and print out rough copies of each page of the entire magazine to "proofread" and "edit" before it goes to the actual printers for FINAL PRINTING. At least, that's how we at Gadgets do it. And it's a tedious fucking process but very important. And yeah, I know ours isn't perfect (tao lang, diba?). But if there is something MAJORLY WRONG with say, an article or a picture, WE WILL CALL EACH OTHER OUT ON IT. We will debate, cuss, shout, send derogatory text messages to each other until we can all find some sort of agreement.

Whoever agreed to print those pictures (AND TO DO A CENTERFOLD OF SORTS???!!!!! --- Seriously???!!!! Gosh, I thought mag space was helluh expensive?!!!) --- is visually-challenged. (Ugh, I'm so grossed out, I'm making words up.)

I'm just saying.

My sister trusted UNO. Theirs was a gross betrayal of her trust and they took advantage of her generosity (as some of the UNO staff are her friends). The illustrations, at this point, aren't even the issue. Hell, it's not even OF HER. Just an ugly body with a face that SORTA looks like her. The issue is the betrayal. The unprofessionalism. The nerve.

I am very disappointed.

....
....
....

Earlier today, Veronica and I came from our friend, Mark's final mass before the convoy to his actual funeral. It's been a stressful time for us and for those who held Mark dear. Today, I also learned that the creative director of UNO once said that the shoot I did with Veronica (I got her to model for me for a music feature, as one of my first gigs as a lifestyle/beauty editor)... didn't "capture" her true beauty.

Or something to that effect.

*Rubs wrinkles on forehead*

Really? *in same aforementioned valley girl tone*

I thought my sister looked "HOT" with her signature yorkie, overexaggerated smoky-eye makeup, holding up Inky's (of the Brigada fame) heavy-ass guitar up against her nude body and the tattoos she wore proudly.

Sure, it may have been cliche.

But at least it wasn't UGLY. More importantly, at least it was HONEST. There was INTEGRITY in it. And Veronica is as professional a model as they come. I was proud of her then and I'm proud of her now. She is beautiful. I am sorry UNO failed to "capture" that.

Sayang. Loss nila yun.

A THANK-YOU NOTE TO MEN

To you, whom it may concern,


To my Adam, who chose to be stupid and submissive in the name of love (not knowledge), for the apple that got stuck in your throat, maybe that's why you don't speak so well but feel so much that it hurts sometimes; you who gave me a duplicate to your heart, your car, and your home; for letting me use your razor, your t-shirt, your coat, and your shoulder to cry, sleep, and lean on when I was drunk with laughter and alcohol; you who made me scream with sheer delight and utter exasperation; for not understanding a word of english for the sake of argument but who understands a look perfectly well; a sophisticated neanderthal who will never get it, though you try, you really do; you who laughed at me for putting on makeup, you liked my oily face and disheveled hair just fine; thank you for the flowers and for screwing in the light bulbs and me when I needed it, and for all the things I couldn't reach; you helped me up, carried me on your back, to the car, to the toilet, to the garbage can, to the bed, and kissed me, who has lost all bearing and composure, goodnight anyway; for forgetting, always forgetting something, making me remember, keeping me on my feet; you stood beside me, behind me, in the front to shield me, honor me, protect and defy me; thank you for keeping me grounded and soaring, for taking my breath away and making me swallow that bitter pill of assuming of knowing everything because I seriously thought I did, once, then you came and fucked everything up; for opening me to your truth; you who swept me off my feet and left me on the floor to pick up the pieces of the mess you made; who knelt in front of me pleading like a homeless puppy for getting my knees dirty and licking my wounds with your tongue-lashing; you whispered in my ear as I slept and I swore they haunted my dreams like the ghost of past loves out to get me, but I laid still and you held me there, without pride, prejudice, or inhibition even as your arm lost all blood and feeling; a man, naked, singular, missing a rib. How do I love thee? You set my soul on fire. And I light up the world as you stand there in the shadows, licking that self-serving smile that found its way to your lips and mine; for giving me my sin again. You gave me that; you who kept me always in your heart, sometimes in your thoughts, but never in your debt. I am eternally grateful.

---Michelle Callanta


***Inspired by Mary-Louise Parker's A Thank You Note to Men

I LIKE KISSING MORE THAN F*CKING.

Yes. Seriously.

I'd rather have a great kiss than great sex. And that ain't even lip-service. *winks*

(Usually, the kiss is better than the sex anyway.)

*can I get an amen, y'all?*

...

So now I'm collecting kisses. I shall put them in a jar and keep em in my refrigerator and save em for those God-awful days when I need to feel for just a moment that I am on the verge of something WONDERFUL and MAGICAL.

*sigh*

I don't think people take kissing seriously anymore. =(




On that note...


the archipelago of kisses

We live in a modern society. Husbands and wives don't
grow on trees, like in the old days. So where
does one find love? When you're sixteen it's easy,
like being unleashed with a credit card
in a department store of kisses. There's the first kiss.
The sloppy kiss. The peck.
The sympathy kiss. The backseat smooch. The we
shouldn't be doing this kiss. The but your lips
taste so good kiss. The bury me in an avalanche of tingles kiss.
The I wish you'd quit smoking kiss.
The I accept your apology, but you make me really mad
sometimes kiss. The I know
your tongue like the back of my hand kiss. As you get
older, kisses become scarce. You'll be driving
home and see a damaged kiss on the side of the road,
with its purple thumb out. If you
were younger, you'd pull over, slide open the mouth's
red door just to see how it fits. Oh where
does one find love? If you rub two glances, you get a smile.
Rub two smiles, you get a warm feeling.
Rub two warm feelings and presto-you have a kiss.
Now what? Don't invite the kiss over
and answer the door in your underwear. It'll get suspicious
and stare at your toes. Don't water the kiss with whiskey.
It'll turn bright pink and explode into a thousand luscious splinters,
but in the morning it'll be ashamed and sneak out of
your body without saying good-bye,
and you'll remember that kiss forever by all the little cuts it left
on the inside of your mouth. You must
nurture the kiss. Turn out the lights. Notice how it
illuminates the room. Hold it to your chest
and wonder if the sand inside hourglasses comes from a
special beach. Place it on the tongue's pillow,
then look up the first recorded kiss in an encyclopedia: beneath
a Babylonian olive tree in 1200 B.C.
But one kiss levitates above all the others. The
intersection of function and desire. The I do kiss.
The I'll love you through a brick wall kiss.
Even when I'm dead, I'll swim through the Earth,
like a mermaid of the soil, just to be next to your bones.

--Jeffrey McDaniel

HE'S OUT THERE LOOKING FOR YOU.

You know how people try to make you feel better about being single by telling you, "Hey he's out there looking for you, he just hasn't found you yet!"?

WELL HE SHOULD GET A FUCKING GPS BECAUSE THIS IS BULLSHIT.

I have been waiting and I keep thinking that I've met him and instead I meet men who pee in front of me on the first date or act lovely towards me and then disappear from the face of the planet.

WHERE ARE YOU, PERFECT GUY FOR ME? Are you famous? Is that why your schedule is so busy? Oh crap, are you John Mayer? Please don't be John Mayer. Are you Chris Pine? I don't really care if you are, your name just kind of popped into my head. Hey Chris Pine, you were adorable in "Just My Luck" and pretty good in Star Trek, I guess, but to be honest I was a little distracted by your massive package. Sweet sassy molassy. I'm talking about the scene where he's going to do that green woman. That's like, an entire Death Star in those briefs. OK I know Death Star is a Star Wars reference and not a Star Trek one, but I think effort counts for a lot.

My friend says that I haven't met him yet (my perfect guy, not Chris Pine) because she needs to meet him first so she can make sure he's not a rapist and introduce me. How thoughtful. She says he will be funny and thin and creative. He will have dark hair and an odd sense of humor. And etc, I tuned out at some point. He needs to be amazing. He needs to have a goddamn job. And it should be awesome. He should be so attractive that I ovulate every time I see him.

Oh I know what you're thinking: "your standards are too high".

WELL DUH MY STANDARDS ARE HIGH. STANDARDS ARE WHAT SEPARATES US FROM ANIMALS. You don't see a dog freaking out over which dog's ass to sniff, a dog just finds an ass and sniffs it. That's the thing about dogs, they don't care.

If none of us had standards we would all be married by now.

What! I'm just saying! We would all be married by age 12 so we could immediately spend the rest of our lives with another person, popping out kids, like a farm animal.

But we don't do that because of standards. Standards are great. Standards make us feel like we have some control over my lives. Like, "Oh I haven't gone on a second date with Derek because I don't think he's liberal enough." No, it has nothing to do with the fact that Derek ignores your texts; now it's about YOU. You are the one in control, you are the one in charge of your destiny...and...emotions...and Spock...and I'm really trying to work in more Star Trek references but I'm having a hard time here. Help me, Obi-Wan Kanobi. DAMNIT, WRONG FRANCHISE AGAIN. Uh...I'm a doctor, not a...mechanic.

BUT THAT'S NOT IMPORTANT RIGHT NOW.

So look, guy, you better find me. I will be looking but I'm sick of doing all the work. I like to go out, to classy bars and such, so when you see me, just say "Hi". That's it. "Hi". As long as you do that and aren't ugly and don't pee on yourself, I'll know you're the one.


***Taken from: http://french-graffiti.blogspot.com/2009/05/hes-out-there-looking-for-you.html

....

APOCALYPSTICK --- My favorite blogger to date. A woman after my own heart. =)

DOES ANYBODY DATE ANYMORE???

(Taken from http://french-graffiti.blogspot.com/2009/03/does-anybody-date-anymore.html)

.......

This morning, while jogging, I had a revelation.

I haven't been on a date in years.

Instead I've been...ugh..."hooking up". First of all, I hate that fucking phrase. I used to say "hook up" instead of meet up. For example: "Hey Stacey let's hook up later at the Valley party." Ok first of all I don't know anyone named Stacey and I don't go to parties in the Valley. Which isn't to say that I wouldn't; I just never know of anyone who has Valley parties.

BUT THAT'S NOT IMPORTANT RIGHT NOW.

Lately my "dating" has been going to some dudes house and making out with him. That's not a date. It's kind of slutty. It's backwards, too. I find that after I've gotten fairly intimate with a guy I realized that I'm nervous about asking him on a date and that he could actually turn me down. That's messed up on all accounts. That's not how it should go.

Here's how it should go. You don't have to pick me up, because I live in the Valley and you probably don't, but we should on a first date meet at a restaurant or whatnot and NOT your house. I should not be in your house on the first date unless your first date is a house party. And it better be a good house party. There not better be any fucking red plastic cups. We're not 19 anymore. Buy some fucking glasses. BUT THAT'S NOT IMPORTANT RIGHT NOW.

We will meet at a restaurant and it will be a fucking classy joint. And we will maybe have a drink at the bar first so I can get all flirty and touch your shoulder and laugh and maybe even do my Blanche impression. Yes, Blanche from the Golden Girls, and yes, it is a great

impression.

Let me tell you this right now: you will pay for dinner. Yes, I said it. You are a man. I am a

woman. I am a hot woman. I am a sexy funny awesome hot woman. I am not paying for dinner. I am not going to split it. I am not going to do any of that shit. Because earlier that night I blow

dried my hair, put on make up, squeezed my Italian ass into a stretchy American Apparel dress, and shaved everything. And you're a man. I don't care if this is 2009 and I don't care that Beyonce is running around in a leotard shouting at us to be proud single ladies: You. Are. Buying. Dinner.

You are required to treat me like Audrey fucking Hepburn on this first date.

By which I mean do not be a douchebag. Be a gentleman. Pretend that the entire date

has Camera Obscura as the soundtrack. Is that fuck music? No, it is not fuck music. It is clean and beautiful and adorable. Like our first date.

Do not invite me your place afterwards for "tea" because that's bullshit.

You may suggest going to a bar afterwards or a cafe for dessert. That is totally acceptable and totally adorable.

You are going to kiss me at the end of this date, motherfucker. It is going to be so fucking pure and awesome that I should be able to hear Sixpence None The Richer playing in my head while it's happening.

You will then make plans for

the second date, right there and then. You will not say, "I'll call you." You will not say, "I'll text you." And under any circumstances will you NOT say, "I'll facebook you." If you say that I will facebook your FACE.

Because then I will not be able to stop thinking about you. I will be reminded of you every time I see a green M&M or an advertisement for 1-800-CLOSETWORLD. Why? Because we will have private jokes about these things. I will facebook stalk you and look at all of your photos and imagine me in them. I will never, ever tell you this. And then on the next date I will kiss you so fucking hard your face will FUCKING SHATTER. CAN YOU DEAL WITH THAT SHIT?

That is how you date in '08. Crap it's '09 now. Fuck

that. Here is what you do NOT do on a FIRST date:

-- "Hey, wanna watch a movie at my place?" Everyone and their Grandpa Fergeson knows that that is code for making out. Not only is that a skeezy first date but it's lame too.

-- "Hey, let's drink champagne in my jacuzzi, what what." This is not a first date either. I actually once had a guy ask me if we could do that in MY jacuzzi. I said, "You better be bringing the fucking champagne." He didn't. JACUZZI DATE OVER.

-- The worst date I have ever been on was with some poor soul college kid who didn't have anything planned and

had me meet him at Border's. Yeah, that was it. So from there we wandered around Westwood and I had to convince him to get our palms read because I'm quirky like that. AND HE HAD NO MONEY SO I HAD TO PAY. Then he wanted to take me to his frat house so we could play guitar hero (GH had just come out so I guess this was kind of a big deal to him.) I would have gotten out of there but he was my ride so I had no choice. I watched him and his friends play Guitar Hero. Then he took me for a walk around campus. Yes. Then we made out on the grass. That part was OK.

But then...

then...

HE PEED ON A TREE. IN FRONT OF ME. WITH NO APOLOGIES.

We were walking and he said, "Hold on a second", walked over to a tree, and peed on it. My mouth was hanging open and he said, "What's wrong?" And I said, "Uh...you're peeing. That's what's wrong." And he said, "There aren't any nearby restrooms that are open." And I said, "You're peeing in front of me." DATE OVER.

Dramatic Reading of a Break-Up Letter

This has got to be the WORST BREAK-UP LETTER EVER!!!!!!!! And having someone READ it OUT frikkin' LOUD... oh man, my stomach literally hurt just having to listen.

So listen for yourself. And I swear... listen long and hard.

(And I finally learned how to embed!!! Fuck yeah. Now take the time out to listen to this.)

 

Mikamouse and Roninose

Nung bata pa kami...

Ako yung pinaka-cool saming apat. (Ngayon medyo baduy nako pero ayos lang.) Syempre yung ate namin masyado ng "mature" kaya di sya nakikisali sa mga laro namin. Kaya ako lang nakinabang sa katangahan ng mga bunso kong kapatid. They were sooooooooo naive...

I was the "ate" with all the fun games ~ Tying Roni up with scarves and locking her up in the closet so she can "pretend" to be Harry Houdini while I leave her to WOW me with her escape as I nonchalantly watched TV in the living room. Or pushing them off the top bunk of my bed with Barbie Foam Bath in their mouth whenever they got my trivia questions wrong (don't worry, they fell on their beds below --- we shared one room back in Newark). Or making them (the reindeer) pull me (Mrs. Claus) on my red make-shift sleigh. And our favorite game...

We used to just sit around and talk about how poor we were.

And it was fun.

Now, these two have grown up and have become two of the most amazingly beautiful women I've ever seen (next to our Ate Paula) and sometimes, I feel intimidated just being around them. Though usually, I just feel I can no longer keep up with their party-hearty ways... too afraid I won't be able to get to work the next day. *baduy*

But during those rare occasions I DO decide to go out with them, I see just how fun they are and how lucky I am to have them for my sisters. They're so stupid and funny and ridiculous and wild and crazy and sweet and lovable... I don't get why there are just some people who don't like them. Then again...

The green-eyed monster is green indeed. =P

But my sisters are so cool.

Got it from me, no doubt.


***Ate Pow!!! Uwi na! Party na ito!