Punyeta, bakit hindi lumalabas header ko.

Anyway.

Is it just me, or am I actually starting to act my age?

A ninang of mine gives me two $50 dollar bills and instead of the usual books, parlor and useless-things-but-they're-so-cute-i-gotta-have-them images in my head, I suddenly blink and say:

"Savings account."

Being a Peter Pan aficionado, this is a huge leap. And contrary to popular Neverland belief, it's actually... nice.

It's never too early for anything, right? I've seen flashes of my 30-year old self living in the slumps with hundreds of children and no husband and heck, for women who actually survive these things, I salute you (lapit na pala Mother's Day!), but that doesn't fit me at all. I've got dreams, B I G O N E S, and I don't just want to reach them. I want to grab them, glue them to every inch of my body and stuff the rest in my backpack.

Oh and keep the rest in my sock drawer.

Bunny Wabbit and Egg Day

Last year, I was at Boracay for the Holy Week, and, well.

This year, I wanted to be at Boracay for the Holy Week.

Pfft.

Still, I was a pretty good soul. After painting 2 dozen eggs with one solid color (creativity was not present that day), I resorted to simply tying ribbons around them. (The drive to see kids smiling were gone too).

But hey, I guess my eggs weren't so bad. Look, they've sent a kid blindfolded to eat them.

She was a bad sport.-------------------->

*warrior drums*




That night, the family celebrated Easter Dinner. Everyone brought their significant others along, except me.

*insert pouty face*

But i gotta tell you something about my clan, if we're not drinking together, we're jamming together. Decades of songs were played in one night. (Trust me, you don't wanna know what they were... Unless you're into Von Trappe, Beatles, RJ, Michael Learns to Rock, Parokya, Kamikazee, Ritchie Valens, and some originals you haven't heard.)

My, that was a giveaway, wasn't it?

Oh, and the food was delish too. Thanks to the lovely people of Dampa, Libis.

And Conti of Conti's cakes.

(Which didn't last long enough to have its picture taken.)

To Bulacan and Back

What do you call a maid that's been in your household for 40 years and counting?

Whatever Tibay is, my dad and i drove her to the not-so-provincial Bulacan so she could spend the Holy Week with her family. They had a modest home, and a plethora of hospitality, I just couldn't say no to the huge langka they were waving at my face.

On the way home, I was thinking about how the hell we wound up on the other side of the expressway without making a U- turn.

I asked my dad.

"Diba nanggaling tayo dun, tapos gumanito tayo, tapos kwan..." My dad replied, telling the story with his free hand.

I pretended I got it. "Ah, okay."

"Oh diba?" Dad said. "Parang clover leaf."

*sigh*

My Productivity List

1. Managed to change, fractionally, the layout of this new blog. I am admittedly a loser when it comes to inserting this image (below) on the header so if anyone who has a kind soul offers to help, I'd be grateful.



2. This Holy Week brought nothing except another pound, and glad to say, a new song.

Dilemnas

A chance stumbles upon your fate, but it is given by someone... who epitomizes indecent proposals. Would you take that chance, trample on another's feelings for the greater glory of YOU? Or would you go back playing songs to your ears alone, for the rest of your life thinking, "What if...?"

If you can take a d*ck, you can take a joke.

Here i am, practically on my third blog now, but for advertisement's sake I'm not gonna say where my previous ones are found coz blogger.com is gonna have my ass and have me sit on the iron chair. (Though you can send me a comment with your name and i'll give you the link. hehe)

What's the deal with blogs anyway? You spend half your life pouring your soul out on a diary with a stupid lock, hiding it from everyone's prying eyes and suddenly, you're here sharing your most private thought with an overweight Namimbian sitting on his fat-arse eating cow dung.

Hahaha.. come to think of it, what do you think their people say about us brown midget asian american wannabes?

Damn, I've got to stop listening to Carlos Mencia...

Who, by the way, owns the title.

Bless his soul.