So I thought...

I wanted this...

                                                    Levi's Type One Bootcut

And then I saw these... *drools*

                     YSL Trib Two Booties (or its knock-off: Bebe Tyra Croco Ankle Bootie)

But then I was like, "Whoa, I totally gotta have this..."

                                              Smashbox Photo Finish Primer

Then again, I kinda thought this would be even cooler...

                                             Browhaus Brow Rejuvenation

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

But then I found this...

                                         
And I figured...

There ain't nothin' more that I need... or could ever want.

.....

Ok... no. I still want those things above. Hahahahaha! I'm just saying. Being able to own memories like that (the aforementioned image being one crazy night at Bureau with my own boyfriend trying to choke me with a bottle of tequila) and laughing at the sight of it (Hell, I don't even remember taking that photo) is all my heart needs to be happy.

More more more of those, I say! Fun, funny, ridiculous. Yeah. I want more of the ridiculous. (Just less of the tequila, though. =)

......

Just 24 more days y'all. =)

My heart is in Athens.

I once asked our editor-in-chief what made her choose to marry her husband.

“He wrote me love letters,” she replied.

And she keeps them all in a safe deposit box.

 

……..

 

This letter was given to me yesterday before he left, with the instructions READ ME EVERYDAY UNTIL PAO COMES HOME. (and because no one writes love letters on Cattleya sheets anymore…)

 

11/25/2010

To my dearest Michelle,

                Happy 13^th month anniversary.  I’ve always told you that I spend each day thinking about you, of how to love you more, and how my every move is done with your inspiration. Let me tell you now, and this is something that struck me w/ brute force this morning, that I can truthfully testify that I do fall in love w/ you each and every single day. I am in loving submission to you. I am in love with loving you. I see it as such an enriching way to spend my days, constantly amazed and excited at how we will love each other from the moment we wake up, until we slide back home into each other’s arms at the end of the day. You love me in the simplest, everyday ways. This is how I know my forever and my heart is safe with you, to be cradled and nurtured, even strengthened, by who you are. You are the one person I would like to hold, hear, talk to, and smile at in my best and worst times. The way I miss you, the way I thirst for you, the way I see you, and the way I adore you is like no other written in any novel or song. Because at the end of it all, you always make me smile. And that’s wonderful. That’s a keepsake. That’s perfect. You’re perfect. One day, I will look at the world, at people, and I know that our love has made a dent in the cold and calculating barriers of time and space. I know that I have found and achieved my greatest with you, and because of you. The feelings I have for you have not weakened nor waned. If anything, these are now reaching new heights while also meaning new depths. I love you now, more than ever. But I know that it’s just starting. We’re not even halfway there. And I am very, very excited. I am yours in thought, body, and soul. I will miss you dearly and promise to come home more in love with you.

<3 Paolo

Happy Thanksgiving!!!

Giving thanks to chicken breasts and mozzarella cheese, basil and mushrooms, olive oil and sauteed garlic in butter...

And of course, to a family who enjoys my cooking.

Happy Thanksgiving y'all.


.....
.....

(Ok I kinda burned the mozzarella. Whatever. =)

One of the best lessons you will ever learn...

... is from Cinderella.

Oh, that clock! Old killjoy. I hear you. "Come on, get up," you say, "Time to start another day." Even he orders me around. Well, there's one thing. They can't order me to stop dreaming. And perhaps someday...

The dreams that I wish will come true.

Android

Upon overhearing a conversation between Chad (art director) and Francis (online editor) about whether to purchase a post-paid plan with a free Blackberry Curve or to simply buy a Blackberry Bold (minus the plan), I ask:

Michelle: So... what's an android?
Francis: (quizzical "are you serious" type look)
Michelle: Is it a robot?
Chad: (laughing) Ang cute mo!
Francis: Uhh, it's an operating system where you can put a lot of applications and other cool stuff.
Michelle: Like what?
Francis: Like games.
Michelle: Oh. So it's an operating system. I wanted a real android. Like... the robot.
(Then Francis gives me one of those "Aha! I have something awesome to show you" type looks and gets his iPhone 4.)
Francis: I have an application where when it hears a song, it can tell you the title. And. It shows you the lyrics. It's called "sound hound." (with matching triumphant goofy grin on his face)
Michelle: Ok so let's see. If I sing a song, it can guess the title and the lyrics? Let's try it.
(Francis turns it on and puts the phone near my mouth.)
Michelle: (in crummy, half-assed singing tone) "A few... stolen moments (half-laughs)... is all that we share. You've got your family and they need you there. Though I try to resist being last on your list..."
(The app stops listening and starts loading)
Michelle: I swear, if this f*cking thing guesses my song...
(On the screen: Saving All My Love For You... with lyrics)
Michelle and Chad (in unison): Whooooooooaaaaaaaa!!!
Michelle: Holy sh*t!

.....

Michelle: That is probably the most useless and most entertaining app ever.

On second thought, Team Slizzles might find this app useful in the next Music Trivia Night. *evil grin*

.....

Ok seriously, I didn't know what the android was until I asked. Hell, I never really cared about smartphones anyway. I'm happy with my sturdy N82, my mobile movies, pictures... and my perfect excuse to not push, receive, send any sort of work email when I'm out of the office.

(I'm such a neanderthal.)

Daughters...

                 For all of the things to be joyful about... this is what takes the cake.


One day, she will be too old... too smart... too mature... too cool for either me or Pao. But God how I am glad for this time now... where she's all about Snow White and Cinderella and Mulan (yes, Mulan) and giving me invisible "poison apples" to eat just so I can pretend to faint and die, just so she can pretend to be the prince, to wake me with true love's kiss.

***PS. for those with daughters, please introduce your child to all of the Disney Princess movies this Christmas. I mean, for all the Dora's and Bratz dolls of this world, the Mileys and the Keshas and the Taylors, nothing beats seeing your baby girl singing "Reflections" or "Some day my prince will come" or "A dream is a wish your heart makes."

Double. Down.

Pao and I finally got a whiff of the mythical KFC Double Down last Saturday.

It was probably one of the most stressful orders of my life.

.....

See, we drove to SM Fairview to meet the fam after which Pao and I left them (and Psyche) to make a dash to KFC. Of course, it was a weekend and lunch time so we knew our chances would be slim. I began to run up the escalator, leaving Pao slightly behind, took a quick glance at the overhead menu to see if there was a "sold out" sign across the picture of the double down (saw that there wasn't), and instinctively slid my way into the shortest-looking line.

I was the third person from the cashier... and just behind him, I saw about 4 of those red paper boxes that held those f*cking burgers. (My colleague has been bringing it in to work whenever he drops by his local KFC in Makati so I knew the packaging.) I was frikkin' itching in line. Then I saw there were only two and they weren't replenishing that sh*t so I began to panic. The lady in front of me was next and she ordered a fully-loaded meal to go and you'd think you were lucky enough to be behind someone with just ONE order but nooooooooooo....

We actually got the slowest KFC employee on earth.

(Ok maybe it was also because the other cashiers had a buddy who pre-prepared the orders while the cashier took them.)

But still.

I kept eyeing the two boxes just sitting there amidst the one-piece chickens and the mashed potatoes. There was even a point when one KFC employee took the two boxes and I turned to Pao and said, "Tangina wala na, nakuha na." and I swear, I was so ready to give up any poise and reservation to scream at the cashier "You are fucking slow!"... only for her to put them back.

It was as if some higher being was toying with my very fragile emotions.

And all the while, homeboy was taking his sweet ol' time fixing that fully-loaded up in a box.  Pao could sense my impatience so we began to call out to the manager who was supervising... a gay guy who looked and talked like he was managing a parlor rather than a fast-food joint (it was hilarious), and finally...

He took our orders... and gave us the very two boxes I'd been staring down like a Jedi for the past 15minutes I waited in line.

....

Then we ate it and it really wasn't all that awesome (it WAS good but then again, Colonel Sanders' original recipe ANYTHING is good). Stupid hype. I shoulda just bought two original recipe breasts, taken em home, cooked some bacon, lathered it up with my own mozzarella cheese instead of the cheez whiz they use and eaten it with a cup of brown rice.

But the thrill of the chase was fun. =)

.....

So for those who still haven't tried the double down... I highly recommend you go out and SEARCH for it. Take a break from the mundane. =)

On Success

There are some things Success is not…

It's not fame, it's not money or power

Success is... waking up in the morning so excited about what you have to do that you literally FLY out of the door

It's getting to work with people you love

Success is connecting with the world and making people feel

It's finding a way to bind together people who have nothing in common but a dream

It's falling asleep at night knowing you did the best job you could

Success is joy, and freedom, and friendship

Success is LOVE

~ Fame (2009)

......

......

And so by definition and beautiful default... I am as successful as they come.

Renaissance Beauty

Eva Longoria files for divorce.

.....

See. Even the pretty ones get cheated on. So who's to say who has it any better.

Oh and another thing.

Who is the person responsible for getting everyone to believe that being skinny and tall was the benchmark for beauty?

Like seriously. Who was the f*cknut that duped the majority of the civilized world to believe this?

(Pao guessed it was Versace. =)


Now my theory is...

Since people don't really paint or draw anymore (because everyone's a frikkin' photographer and "image technician" these days)... they don't see the beauty in being voluptuous. Back then, women who were curvy and full-figured were at the height of sexiness simply because there was no challenge in painting or sculpting a waif.

That's one of the reasons why I found the Renaissance period so awesome.

And why I got me a "Renaissance Man." =)

.....

Ok that was just a random thought but I seriously just wanted to justify my wanting to devour a couple of KFC double-downs later tonight. I am absolutely HUNG. OVER. (It was all that ABSOLUT GLIMMER free-flowing around.)

I need meat.

The TRUTH

I got out my mobile phone; after all, I had a reasonable number of friends in the city, but it was too late to phone anyone. I considered going into one of the bars and ordering a drink; someone was bound to recognize me and invite me to join them. But I resisted the temptation and tried to get through that moment, discovering, in the process, that there is nothing worse than the feeling that no one cares whether we exist or not, that no one is interested in what we have to say about life, and that the world can continue turning without our awkward presence.

I began to imagine how many millions of people were, at that moment, feeling utterly useless and wretched - however rich, charming and delightful they might be - because they were alone that night, as they were yesterday, and as they might well be tomorrow. Students with no one to go out with, older people sitting in front of the TV as if it were their sole salvation, businessmen in their hotel rooms, wondering if what they were doing made any sense, women who spent the afternoon carefully applying their makeup and doing their hair in order to go to a bar only to pretend that they're not looking for company; all they want is confirmation that they're still attractive; the men ogle them and chat them, but the women reject them all disdainfully, because they feel inferior and are afraid the men will find out that they're single mothers or lowly clerks with nothing to say about what's going on in the world because they work from dawn to dusk to scrape a living and have no time to read the newspapers. People who look at themselves in the mirror and think themselves ugly, believing that being beautiful is what really matters, and spend their time reading magazines in which everyone is pretty, rich, and famous. Husbands and wives who wish they could talk over supper as they used to, but there are always other things demanding their attention, more important things, and the conversation can always wait for a tomorrow that never comes.

That day, I had lunch with a friend who had just got divorced and she said to me, 'Now I can enjoy the freedom I've always dreamed of having.' But that's a lie. No one wants that kind of freedom: we all want commitment, we all want someone to be beside us to enjoy the beauties of Geneva, to discuss books, films, or even to share a sandwich with because there isn't enough money to buy one each. Better to eat half a sandwich than a whole one.

---The Zahir

......

......

Now seriously, I cannot stress enough just how effective bathroom reading has become. (Obviously, it's not all that effective on Paolo since he's still on Dorian Gray whereas I am now on Stephen King's "The Girl Who Loved Tom Gordon" (I really have to start collecting more Stephen King books) after having re-read "The Giver" by Lois Lowry (which I fully recognize now at my age to be an absolutely brilliant book) after I had devoured my sister's Paulo Coelho collection...

And there really is no sweeter thing than to see his book next to mine in the bathroom.

A redefined definition of young love.

Glimmer

As our online editor precisely pointed out as we up and left the office to go to Hi-Top Grocery Store just to raid their discount section of goods (for products that'll be expiring in a month):

"We are not a magazine, we are a ninja school."

.....

And later...




















Then...

Republiq hits with my two favorite people:

















......

When the hell am I gonna get some work done?

HOME

This morning...

Pao and I paid the reservation fee for our new condo.

*beams proudly*

........

And now... it all makes sense...

All the money I never thought to spend... (that never really quite hurt me not to spend), living like a pseudo-self-fated pauper of sorts... is beginning to reap its latent benefits.

And that downpayment? Doesn't hurt me to pay ONE. BIT.

But I'm thankful for my dad and Paolo for helping me to achieve this dream of having a home for me and psyche. I wanted to be an underpaid writer and a semi hands-on mother. I wanted my cake and to eat it too. I wanted my time, my freedom, my dream to be a writer for my company, a teacher and friend to my baby, a lover and cook and confidant to my partner. There are only so few opportunities that let you have ALL of that.

For letting me have this... no matter how impractical and immature it is... I am truly truly blessed.

Because I got high...

7th High (formerly Ascend) tonight for some serious reckless abandoning (god I love the sound of those words.)

Reckless. Abandon.

Sh*t.

And my sister Mika is bringing the rest of the Emirates fly girls for a one-night only cameo.

Now how the Hell am I gonna get from QC to MOA to Makati on the MRT wearing my falsies, stockings, and heels?

FUCK.

Fuck I wanna rant.

Now I know I know our police officers here are disgustingly underpaid but GOD. Who takes up rigorous training to uphold the law, to protect its citizens... AND NOT FUCKING DO IT????

Shit. The fucking nanny did a better job acting on her civil duties!

And you know what's fucking sad?

When people tell me to NOT go to the police anymore, that it would just be a waste of time, that they might even be in on these burglaries. And I don't wanna think that about anyone since I don't wanna generalize but fuck.

And yes I know WE SHOULD MOVE but doesn't anybody understand that money doesn't grow on trees and houses don't just fall on your lap when you wish for it and Pao and I were NOT raised to leech off of our parents or off anyone and that any charitable gesture given to us is taken with the utmost humility (if not almost immediately turned down).

And what the fuck is up with cops wanting a fucking hand-out???

Like SERIOUSLY????? It fucking pisses me off!!! And I'm sorry we all got problems but shit. Man, I dunno. I really don't know anymore.

You know... the only time (and I was only able to truly recognize this now after the last incident of getting burglarized)... the only time I ever cared enough about money... or to even give it some serious value... is when I see how I can't seem to buy my daughter the things she wants. Of course, I know I give her what she needs and what she doesn't need is another Barbie doll but it just breaks my heart when I have to explain to her that Pao and I have to make more money. I know I would never want to spoil my kids but sometimes I think, why can't she have a Barbie? Why can't kids have what they want? Parents should work hard to give their kids what they want. I'd have wanted a Barbie. It may not seem all that logical now because adults don't play with toys anymore but to Hell if as an adult we can honestly say we've never wanted anything for just the sheer fuck of it. Shit, some of the things we want now cost more than just money and little do we know (or care) we're paying with our own integrity.

Fuck.

Case in fucking point: those two fuckers who had the AUDACITY to try to break into our apartment in the middle of the fucking day.

And now... I can't even give my daughter a safe home.

And this makes me mad. And I don't wanna fall into some stupid pit of despair because I KNOW HOW BLESSED I AM (fuckers wouldn't be trying to steal from us if we weren't blessed) but SHIT.

That's all I have to say.

.....

I'm sorry if this has a lot of the word "fuck" in it. To the administrators of multiply, I hope y'all understand.

THE ONLY THING I HATE ABOUT CHRISTMAS.

Two guys tried to break into our apartment again just this morning after Pao and I left for work. My daughter and her nanny also left this morning to visit my parents only to come back and find out (from our neighbor's nanny) that right after I left for work (as I was the last one out), two guys tried to open our apartment door claiming I, Michelle (they knew my name), had ordered them to take all our stuff out of the apartment, particularly the computers and such.

If it weren't for our neighbor's nanny (who's only about in her early 20s) and her courage to stand up to them, those guys would've had a fucking merry ass christmas with all of our belongings.

They're called the SALISI gang. And they're for fucking real.

.....

God please please just keep us safe til we move out.

Serious Moonlight

Relationships... are hard.

And there really wasn't any other way to make that sound any more accurate or profound.

They are hard. And like anything that's hard, they tend to give you a hard time.

But I suppose that's the first thing we all have to understand. That relationships are hard.

And when you GET that, that's when you can deal with it.

......

Of course there are still alot of other things I don't get.

Like... I don't get how you can love someone one minute and completely loathe them the next... or even love and loathe them in the very same minute... like your mind is in this instantaneous schizophrenic break of sorts... as if the molecules in your brain actually TOOK SIDES... as fast as your heart pumps blood to all the gazillion arteries in your body... you want to hold them, kiss them, squeeze them until you passed out... then wish you never met them at all.

Or how you can fall out of love with someone when you can almost swear that it was only yesterday you were absolutely swooning over this person... ready to die for this person... all the romantic little enzymes seeping from your pores like pus.

Pus. An overproduction of white blood cells trying to fight off an infection.

Love is an infection.

*shrugs*

......

I caught this movie on HBO one random day called "Serious Moonlight." It's with Meg Ryan and Timothy Hutton and it was about how they were this married couple and how Timothy Hutton was gonna leave Meg Ryan for a younger woman (Kristin Bell) so Meg Ryan decides to tie him up and hold him hostage inside their house until he falls back in love with her.

It was the darndest thing. She baked him his favorite cookies and made him watch their wedding video and look at their wedding photos... she insisted even after he told her that he didn't love her and that she was ugly and that he loved someone else. There was even this part in the movie when Kristin Bell goes to the house and asks Meg Ryan where he is and Meg Ryan tells her that she knows about the affair and that it was ok, she just needed to clear up a few things with her husband but that she could have him afterwards. The moment Kristin Bell's character leaves, Meg's character goes to the porch and breaks down... wailing and crying... like the whole world had just suddenly crashed right on top of her stupid, foolish little head.

It made her vomit.

I thought about how I would feel if that ever happened to me.

I'd probably vomit too.

(I don't wanna reveal the rest of the movie in case any of you decide to check it out.)

But yeah. I guess... I'd vomit if Paolo ever told me I was ugly and that he didn't love me. Even after all the other times I had threatened to leave him. Even when I was sure I'd convinced myself that I hated him.

Maybe sometimes (excluding the cases where domestic violence and abuse and chronic cheating is concerned), when times get hard, all you need to do is remind yourselves of that time when you were really really in love. When you had pus coming out of your pores type love.

......

With the "hype" of my "up-and-coming" wedding (the quotation marks indicate I use the terms loosely... or simply, for lack of a better description)... I've been thinking about marriage and its certainties and guarantees and what not.

Like... how does one know they're ready to get married or that they should marry the person they're with.

So I googled it. (Call it cold feet or whatever but I'm not about to NOT utilize the world wide frikkin' web to help me gain some perspective. It's my f*cking life we're talking about here.)

And all the things I've read always answered some half-assed "You just know" type shit... like, what the fuck is that supposed to mean???? I mean, really. Next to God coming to me in a dream or Him actually walking up to me and telling me who "the one" is... one can never be all that sure, right?

So I asked my friends and we had a dialogue and she said... I guess you know you love someone when you know there's something you can say that would hurt them but you don't.

Now I talk alot of shit.

But I don't think I've ever held my tongue more.

I dunno.

So... how do you know, right?

More importantly, would it even make a difference if we did know?

Right now, all I know is that I'd vomit if he left me.

Who am I to say?

This just about broke my heart.

......

......



I don't know anything at all... who am I to say you love me?

How absolutely humbling. It leaves you profoundly helpless.

Girls Night In.

My daughter asked me if she could smoke when she was "bigger" after she saw her yaya hand me the pack of cigarettes I asked her to buy at the store.

*sigh*

I made her promise me that she wouldn't. That she could put make-up on and find a boyfriend, nay, find love, her prince charming... but not smoke.

Or drink alcohol... although I'd probably let her do that anyway.

.....

So tonight, I think I'll give up a night of smoking, drinking, and semi-reckless abandon to stay home and play teacher. I need to be teaching her how to write the alphabet anyway. Then maybe afterwards, she and I can finally use the footspa massager I got for my one year anniversary. I can give her her first foot scrub and massage.

This is frikkin' wild.

All I Want.

I want to sing like Joni Mitchell
I want to go home and sleep and wake up to tomorrow
Because tomorrows could be better
I want to knit him a sweater
I want to cry when she sings that part

All I really really want is an unburdened heart.

BALINESE LOVE

         "I hope you make memory here in Bali." -- Shingo (our favorite "warung" owner)



......

                                            After a 6-hour transit... *sigh*


                                So this is how it feels like to be a millionaire... =P


                                SRI PHALA RESORT (Agoda.com is the sh*t =)


                     And here we are (trying) to get a good jump in on our king-size bed.

                         
                                          Checking out the local fastfood joint.


                                   The beginning of our Bintang Beer overload.


                                                                                                                    By the pool.


            Reading "Isobel's Wedding" (Ketut, the hotel mgr. let me keep it afterwards)

***It's nice to look up from a surprisingly interesting read and see a vast ocean up ahead. No gray walls. No engines. No eccentric hipsters to block the view. Just you, sand, ocean, and Isobel.

                         And of course, the love of your life sleeping soundly beside you.


   Never Hide. (Ok, his Rayban's are real... but I think I make mine look just as expensive. =)


.....

"People think a soul mate is your perfect fit, and that’s what everyone wants. But a true soul mate is a mirror, the person who shows you everything that is holding you back, the person who brings you to your own attention so you can change your life." -- Eat, Pray, Love

                                                               Love.