can you beat this??

Hmm... A wedding dress made entirely of toilet paper, tape, and glue. Hat included. How's that for creativity?

Read more about it here.

little bird

Photo: Courtesy of Simon Chandler

In our new office building, there’s a little bird who somehow got trapped on our floor. It’s been more than two weeks (I think), and the poor thing just couldn’t find its way out (yes, I’m calling it an “it,” ‘cause I’m not sure if it’s a boy or girl bird).

It’s just an ordinary bird, really: brown, tiny, confused. It may have gotten inside through one of the little holes in the building, and now randomly zooms over our head trying to find the way to the real world outside. I suspect sometimes it hides up in the ceiling, maybe to regroup and think of another new strategy on how best to escape this building.

Some of my officemates have attempted to catch the little bird, to bring it outside where it can fly freely and maybe meet up with its friends and tell them of that harrowing escape with that bird-eating building. But whenever my officemates approach the little bird, it just flies out of their reach in time. (Or maybe my officemates aren’t just stealthy enough? ‘Cause the little bird always always ALWAYS seems to know when they’re nearby.)

One of my officemates, L, tried leaving crumbs near her cube to feed the little bird. I feel that L, always the ever-doting momma, couldn’t go to sleep at night knowing there’s a hungry little bird inside our building who may or may not have had its dinner yet. (Instead, the crumbs she left for the little bird were practically untouched, but surprise surprise! Her stock of snack supplies went short of exactly 1 packet of crackers. Now that’s one mighty big bird gone hungry!)

Sometimes, I meet the little bird on my way to the pantry or the restroom: always flitting confusedly, wondering how the h3ll it got itself into this miserably wretched situation, regretting that moment it got curious and decided to fly into that damning hole, uncertain if it could ever trust itself again, and quite possibly, ever on the lookout for a way out.

Poor little birdie. I know exactly how that feels.

crabby times

Photo: Courtesy of Jari Dude

It’s that time of the month once again.

That time where everything just isn’t right, nothing makes sense, and no matter how many times you try to breathe deeply, you can’t help but pull the hair of that clueless taxi driver, bitch-slap the first person you see in the morning, or headbutt anyone who looks at you and smiles. Well, just in my mind, at least.

And if you’re a real, true-to-life woman (not a tranny with a successful operation under his belt – pun intended – who are one of my idols, by the way), you’ll understand what I mean by this.

Yes, I am PMS-ing.

(Ladies, let me get a “hell yeah!”)

And the more I think about it, the more I realize: why do we have to put up with this shit anyway? Who gave permission to Auntie Flo that she could just come and wreak havoc on our lives, huh?

Also? I’ve been at this for like, more than a decade now, and she still does this to me?

I

am

just

too

old

for

this

shit.

And will I fall prey to this vicious cycle next month? No to the way to the Jose! (I hope.)

So I did what any sane, responsible woman would do in this situation: I consumed almost a pint of chocolate ice cream, and then had powdered Milo for dinner.

 

Sometimes, a girl is left no other choice but to let her vajayjay rule the world.

 

 

eve mayumi

• Born May 31, 2009
  
• Weighed 7.7 lbs; measured 21 inches
  
• Stole everybody's hearts with her first photoshoot

watchu lookin at??

if you ain't got milk, get outta my face!

gelatissimo

Photo: Courtesy of Soloflighted

I experienced the most amazing sensation this week.

After doing lunch with our James Bond at La Tegola, we dropped by Gelatissimo just to see if we can squeeze in more treats into our already-full tummies. (Couldn’t get more Italian than this, huh?)

The other Bond girls chose the chocolate flavor, but because I worship the gods of caffeine, I opted for their version of the coffee ice cream.

 

It. was. deeelish. times infinity.

Their coffee ice cream was sprinkled with coffee beans (and I mean real coffee beans), roasted just right so you can actually taste their acrid bitterness, but when combined with the sweet, cool texture of the ice cream: coffee-gasmic! 

And how often can you get to say: I had me some crunchy ice cream?

because you care

I know you've been dying to find out the most-played tracks on my iPod (admit it, you WANT TO KNOW), so for your viewing pleasure, here it is. 

click photo to enlarge image. you know you want to.

In other news, all my friends agree I am a conceited monkey with overbearing delusions of grandeur (I can almost see them nod in unison). 

But whatever. As long there's coffee or tequila or tequila-flavored coffee, it doesn't really matter!

matud nila

Image: Courtesy of Zazzle

We were at the ICU, my uncle and I; our turn to tend to my grandmother who’s been in and out of hospitals since last year.

My uncle had just flown in from Australia. My mother, worried sick about my grandmother’s condition, called in her siblings from the other parts of the world, to see if maybe having them here can nurse my grandma back to health.

It was twilight, I think, when we went inside the ICU room.

My grandma looked up when we entered the room, and she beamed when she saw my uncle. My uncle approached her bed, kissed her cheek, and held her hands.

We had a little chat, about this and that. Uncle Junie made a few jokes, elicited small chuckles from my grandma.

And then out of nowhere, my grandma whispered, “Dong, I can’t sleep.”

So my uncle, while holding my grandma’s hands, softly sang:  

Matud nila, ako dili angay

Na magmanggad sa imung gugma

Matud nila, ikaw dli malipay

Kay wa ako’y bahandi na kanimu igasa

My grandma closed her eyes, and with a sigh of relief, gently fell asleep.

I looked away and headed out the door. Moments like these are not meant to be disturbed.