I know I should engage your attention if I wanted my page to rake up an obscene amount of hits. I suppose, in doing that, I ought to say something highfalutinly profound to give the impression that I am "interesting."
However, as I mainly concern myself of trivial stuff (i.e. taming my ugly mop of hair; hunting for the Lint Monster that eats up my socks during washer spin cycle), I'm afraid that I wouldn't be able to pull off having an intrinsic character despite peppering this space with lotsa German words like "zeitgeist", "weltanschauung", and "volkswagen".
I am shallow, people of the universe. So shallow that I tidy up complexity by putting people into neat boxes of stereotypes using the question, "What's your sign?".
But when I tire of being shallow, I try to critique movies and books. And sometimes, when my insecurity-level spikes so low, I try to make myself sound so interesting by talking about philosophy. "Try" is the operative word here.
Please excuse me if I talk about me a lot. It's my favorite topic. Next to talking about nothing.
And when one talks about nothing, nothing becomes something. And it's called "crap".
Overheard at the Cinema
July 30, 2008When in the movie house, sometimes entertainment isn’t limited on the screen in front of you. If you’re lucky enough to be seated near an irrepressibly opinionated movie viewer, you’ll have an extra something to talk (or blog) about besides the movie you just watched.
* * * * * *
Movie: 300
Scene: Sparta was visited by Xerxes’ messenger who probably wasn’t used to having women around him because he got easily annoyed at the most obvious female characteristic (i.e. can’t shut up) Queen Gorgo displayed:
Messenger: What makes this woman think she can speak among men?
Queen Gorgo: Because only Spartan women give birth to real men.
Irrepressibly Opinionated Movie Viewer (IOMV) Moment #1:
Non-Spartan Girlfriend (said with conviction): “Ay, korek ka dyan sister! Korek ka dyan!”
Non-Spartan Boyfriend beside her: *grunt*
* * * * * *
Movie: Sunshine
Scene: A close-up look at the sun revealed far too much for our IOMV…
IOMV Moment #2:
Girl said (in a disdainful tone): “Sus! Fake naman yung sun!”
* * * * * *
Movie: Fantastic Four: Rise of the Silver Surfer
IOMV Moment #3:
Girl declared knowingly: Ah yeah. Hindi makakatagos ang apoy sa bus. Apoy yan e. Kaya kapag mercury.
Guy corrected: Silver Surfer sya, hon. Hindi Mercury Sulfer. Girl replied: Ah ok. Parang mercury pala ang silver.
Note: Silver Surfer’s power
* * * * * *
Movie: Kung Fu Panda
Scene: After 45 minutes of me gurgling with delight over Poh’s misadventures.
IOMV Moment #4:
Schroo expressed his opinion by closing his eyes to sleep. I expressed mine by jabbing him under the ribs.
* * * * * *
Movie: The Dark Night
Scene:
First time Joker came on screen.
IOMV #5:
Van was gripping Schroo’s shirt sleeve in fear when she was heard gritting her teeth bemoaning, “Bad make-up! Bad hair! Ugly purple suit! Oh the horror! The horror!”
Alice in W. Part 3
July 28, 2008Chapter 3: Building Up The Mystery
The Caterpillar wasn’t the only creature Alice came to know while wandering around Wonderland. In fact, she had not gone much father before she came across two more Wonderland characters who were currently having tea party on the lawn area of a house with a chimney shaped like ears and the roof thatched in fur: one was called the March Hare and the other, the Mad Hatter. They were accompanied by a Dormouse who was cradled in his sleep in a big teacup.
The table was a large one, but the three were all crowded together at one corner of it: `No room! No room!’ they cried out when they saw Alice coming. `There’s plenty of room!’ said Alice indignantly, and she sat down in a large armchair at one end of the table and decided to join them for tea. However, she soon found out that there’s no way that a normal conversation would happen since the duo has long been inebriated (with tea) since the debut of Michael Jackson’s white gloves.
“Have some wine,” the March Hare said in an encouraging tone.
Alice looked all round the table, but there was nothing on it but tea. “I don’t see any wine,” she remarked.
“There isn’t any,” said the March Hare.
“Then it wasn’t very civil of you to offer it,” said Alice waspishly.
“It wasn’t very civil of you to sit down without being invited,” said the March Hare.
“Ok. Point taken,” she said grumbled, and then as if remembering something, “Did you happen to see a white rabbit passed by?”
“I didn’t go anywhere,” sniffed the March Hare.
“You’re a hare,” pointed out Alice, then turned to slap the Mad Hatter’s gloved hand away from her hair.
“Your hair wants cutting,” Mad Hatter said.
“What? Well, you ought to learn how to keep your hands to yourself, mister,” Alice lectured, “It is very rude.”
The Hatter opened his eyes very wide on hearing this; but all he said was, “Rapunzel’s hair wants cutting too.”
“Aye, Aye,” nodded the March Hare, “Just like the 3 little pigs wants to cut a piece of that Gingerbread house.”
“No, no, no,” the Hatter protested, “It was the Queen that wants cutting…” then before continuing he sipped delicately at the teacup where the Dormouse is, put it down, fixed his eyes on Alice and then motioned one gloved hand across his neck as if slicing it.
Alice’s body shivered. At this point, she was infinitely creeped out partly by the Hatter’s weirdness, but mostly of the latter’s sense of fashion.
”Didn’t he know that the raccoon eyes is already passe’?, Alice thought indignantly, as she was leaving, “And my goodness! He just killed that funky hat with that awful hair! Made him look like a cross between Jack White and Dr. Seuss. Oh the horror, the horror!”
Jack White of The White Stripes
Next Chapter - The Freaky Twins Appear
***
Precious Chapters:
Alice in W. Part 2
July 24, 2008Chapter 2: Mr. Caterpillar
She didn’t know what she expected to find in a rabbit hole, but as soon as she entered it she found herself falling. What was strange though is that she seems to fall quite slowly, having the time to observe the things around her. There are shelves and pictures hung on the wall and even an open cabinet; at one point, she took a liking to a pair of rhinestone-studded galoshes, tried it out then put it back in the closet. She seems to fall for an interminable amount of time that she begins to wonder if the hole even has an end to it.
Finally, she reaches the bottom of the hole and finds herself in a dense forest. With eyes darting furtively around her, “Great. I forgot my insect repellant,” she muttered to herself as she slapped a mosquito on her left arm, “Just as long as I don’t encounter any creepy crawlies, then I suppose I should just suck everything in and move on, “ she said consoling herself.
Barely a few seconds had passed since she said that when she stumbled upon a huge green caterpillar with a hookah. The Caterpillar and Alice looked at each other for some time in silence: the former, curious; while the latter, horrified at the sight of the generous use of electric blue eye shadow.
“Ew. That make-up is soooo Cyndi Lauper,” she thought, as would anyone born from the era of sheer lipgloss.
At last the Caterpillar took the hookah out of its mouth and addressed her in a languid, sleepy voice.
“Who are YOU?” the Caterpillar said.
“I…I… I’m not sure…yet,” stammered Alice who, still can’t get over the blue make-up, did not completely comprehend the question.
“What DO YOU mean by that?” the Caterpillar queried sternly, “EXPLAIN yourself!”
Snapping back from the annoyed tone of the bug, she hurriedly explained, “I can’t just give my name to strangers, you know.”
“No, I don’t know,” replied the caterpillar.
“Well, it might be a different case from you since you’re a caterpillar… with bad blue make-up, I might add,” she coughed the latter part quietly, then continued, “But a girl just have to protect herself in some way when she’s stranded in an unknown place.”
Even in near stupor, the caterpillar heard what she said about his blue face tint. At this, the Caterpillar was clearly insulted for he was told that blue suits him greatly, so in a clipped haughty voice he said, “At least my house passed the requirements of the Queen.” Then he left Alice alone.
Feeling all italized letters like a slash of wind down Alice’s spine, she knew instantly that she’s in big, big trouble.
To be continued (again)…
Related Post:
Alice in Wonderland (NBC Version)
July 22, 2008Chapter 1: The Predicament
It all started one day when Alice woke up and noticed that the cottage she had had constructed a month ago could not afford the additional 10 pounds she just gained overnight.
“I knew that apple pie was a mistake,” she muttered with regret.
She didn’t know what made her get the 7 dwarves as her contractors. But then, she was quite fascinated by the dwarves’ technique of measuring everything by their pinky. She was still thinking about her next action when a little white rabbit peeped from her window and saw her predicament:
“Oh, dear, Oh dear. The Queen will be displeased!” The white rabbit exclaimed and in distress, he caught one of his ears and chewed on it. Then the white rabbit flinched in surprise as the vibrate mode of his Motorola Black Razor V3 alarmed. Seeing a virtual envelope addressed from the Queen, he trembled then scurried away.
“The Queen?” pondered Alice, “Wait, Mr. Rabbit!” she called out at the speeding rabbit.
But the Mr. Rabbit was already too far to hear her call. She wanted to follow the rabbit, but first she must find a way to get out of the house.
It would take a great deal of concentration to contort her limbs to get out, but she figured that with her splendid ballet training of 2 days, she would be able to manage it. She vowed, as she was able to stretch out a toenail out the window, that after this episode she would forevermore discriminate against the sweet fillings and eat only the pie crust … that is, if the recipe exceeded a cupful of sugar more than the usual.
After 3 days, Alice finally managed to got out. Of course, it wasn’t her ballet contorting strategy that let her escaped, but the fact that she burped and farted down gradually to her original size. Although euphoric from her escape, she was also disoriented from having nothing to eat for days, thus forgetting all about the white rabbit…until:
“Oh dear, oh dear. Four beheadings and one more! “ muttered the white rabbit as it passed by her house again during its twice weekly garden border patrol.
Alice saw the white rabbit and remembered him from the last time, “Mr. Rabbit!” she called out to him.
“Ack! She’s out! Oh dear, Oh dear!” exclaimed the white rabbit, then ran away and disappeared into a rabbit hole she’d never seen before.
She figured, as she’s the only person there that the second-person pronoun meant her, so she decided to follow the rabbit to ask him what he meant, and also to ask which store he got his chic checkered black and white scarf.
Armed with resolve, she followed him down the rabbit hole.
To be continued
P.S. Inspired by BehindInfinity’s cosplay pictures and pushed by the necessity of coming up with a presentation for Ethics. It’ll be heavily laden with pictures thats why I’m going to divide it in series of chapters.
P.P.S. If you guys like Behind Infinity’s pictures, you can purchase their print over at deviantart.
Blonde Moment
July 21, 2008I’ve always been a clever kid. So clever that I’ve realized early on that being so complicates life so much, you end up facing every day like you have a corn kernel stuck between your teeth. And since being irritated most of the times sucks the fun out of living - especially when you’ve garnered a collection of untimely wrinkles on your forehead - I opted to go blond.
You know how the saying goes.
By that, I didn’t mean peroxiding my black hair to make it yellow - although, I did have the greatest compulsion to do so to give a symbolism to my metamorphosis. However, as I do not have the right complexion, I chucked out the idea least I ended up looking like this:
What I did was assume what a stereotypical blond is known for. And true enough, after limiting myself to the Sunday comicstrip, chick lit, beauty magazines, and Chikatime.com, my transformation was complete. And at once, I learned what makes Dee Dee so bouyant compared to her ornery brother Dexter. There just isn’t anything “up” there to hold her down.
I didn’t mean blondness to be perfected but I may have unwittingly done so, that I scare myself sometimes:
“Um…Sweetie? Don’t be mad, ok?,” bitting my lips in worry, I called Schroo in his office, “I didn’t do anything out of the ordinary, but your computer’s acting up.”
Schroo asked, “Tell me what exactly happened.”
“Well, you know I’m playing WOW right?”
“Uh huh.”
“See, I was playing then suddenly the screen blacked out. Does that ever happened before?” I queried through chewed lips, hoping the incident wasn’t a unique one.
“Ah yeah. That’s the computer’s way of saying I need to buy newer graphics card,” he explained, “So what did you do next? Did you end the program through control-alt-delete?”
“I tried but the whole screen is frozen. Whole thing hanged!,” I said, “So, I pushed that…that… uh…button that shuts down the computer. You know, the one found on the computer chassis.”
“The Power button?”
“Is that what it’s called?”
“Yeah. So what happened next?”
Taking a deep breath, I answered glumly, “I turned it on again, and nothing’s showing on the monitor.”
“WHAT do you MEAN there’s nothing showing on the monitor?,” he asked in a somewhat controlled voice, “The computer’s turned on, right?”
“Yeah. I turned it on again but the monitor’s just black. But there’s this dialog box at the upper left corner saying ‘No Signal’. And that’s just it,” I explained glumly still, “I swear, I didn’t do anything with your computer. It just went dead. Now, it’s dead!”
Ignoring my whines, he asked me still calmly as he tried troubleshooting the problem, “Sweetie, can you see a blue light from the monitor?”
“Huh?,” puzzled I, “What blue light? Is there suppose to be a blue light? Ah. The blue light coming from the monitor? Yeah, I see it.”
“Ok. That’s good. How about over at the pc chassis?”
Looking for it and finding no blue lights, I moaned, “Ohmigosh! No blue light! What’s the problem, Sweetie? What shall I do?”
“Here’s what you should do: Push the power button again because, sweetie, the computer’s still off.”
Mercifully, the conversation was done over the phone so I was spared of the sight of Schroo’s amused grin spreading across his cheeks.
Where is Jollibee’s butt? (PMS Part 3)
July 7, 2008While Van’s attention is currently engaged elsewhere (i.e. her mountainous load of schoolwork) and her temper safely projected at a different direction (specifically, at the bathroom weighing scale’s direction), Schroo decided to continue what he so boldly started.
5. It is possible to win at anything except when arguing with your girlfriend (or wife). But on a very rare occasion that winning is achieved, never EVER gloat. Otherwise, suffer the consequences.
“Uhm… Sweetie?,” Schroo started skeptically as he was watching Van jiggle her butt in tune with the Jollibee commercial song, “Why are you doing that?”
“What? Dancing?” she grinned, still moving with the commercial song. “If you can call that dancing,” he remarked wryly, then seeing Van’s threatening glower, “I mean, c’mon, sweetie! How could you shake your jigglies on a Jollibee song?”
Germaine (of Neurotically Yours) butt-to-butt with Jollibee
“Why not?” she huffed, “It makes sense that I would, seeing that the commercial jingle is made in direct exploitation of Jollibee’s large tush.”
“That’s not Jollibee’s butt?” Schroo declared.
“It’s not?”
“It’s not.”
“What is it then?” she asked with one eyebrow raised (in difficulty).
“That big sac is actually his balls,” he said quite matter-of-factly, “Yes, he only has one ball.”
“Ohkaaaaaay,” she replied with a tiny quirk from her lips.
“No, really. His stinger is his penis,” he declared, returning the quirky lips back.
She isn’t knowledgable with a male bee’s anatomy but she knows when Schroo is challenging her for a bullshit-fest. So rising up to the challenge, she went Socratic on him, “So, you’re saying that the stinger is the penis?”
“Uh-huh.”
“I don’t see his penis anywhere.”
He thought quickly and replied, “That’s because he’s hiding it, you know. See, despite working for a large corporation as an exalted kiddie mascot, he still can’t afford to buy himself some pants.”
“But his gigantic ball is exposed,” she retorted back.
“You don’t even know it’s his ball until I told you,” then seeing her opening her mouth for another comeback, he immediately added,” It’s enormous abnormality is itself a camouflage for its unwitting exposure.”
“I see.” She paused a little from the rather obliquely confusing explanation, then seeing Schroo’s quirky lips broadening to a grin, she matched the grin with her own haughty smile,” So if the big sac is the ball, and the stinger is the penis, where the hell is Jollibee’s butt?”
With unflinching demeanor, he simply said,” He has no butt.”
With equal repose, she queried immediately, “If so, where does his waste go?”
This made him pause for a little while, but seeing Van’s eyes already dancing victoriously, he grasped at the first thought that came into his mind, “Oh crap,” he muttered.
“Giving up?” she asked in a teasing voice.
“Eherm… you didn’t hear me right. I said Jollibee doesn’t crap,” saved he.
“Really?” said an amused smile. By now she knows that she already have the upperhand of the arguement, so she pursued to trap him some more, “Then how does his waste go out then? And don’t tell me that his waste doesn’t go out either since that’s not how the food cycle goes.”
“Well, he really doesn’t crap,”said a sudden flash of sly smile who wouldn’t be trapped, “Instead of shitting, he just mutated into the monstrosity that he is now.”
“Then he should be in gigantic proportion,” came a wry reply.
“Ahhh,” his sly smile slowly turning back into a grin, “but in a bee’s standard size,” he put together his pointer finger and thumb with a distance of about an inch, “Jollibee, who is taller than my almost 6-foot height,” he raised his other hand over his head, ” is certainly huge.”
“But…but…” then she fell silent.
“What? Giving up?” said an ear-to-ear grin.”No comeback? No wise-ass retort? No nothing?”
No reply.
“This must be my lucky day!” He allowed himself then to laugh victoriously.
“Easy boy,” cutting him off, hands loftily placed on her lips, “Truth is, I let you win.”
“What’s this? Reverse sour-graping?” he teased, still puffed up from the win he seldom gets. “Why don’t you just admit that you lose and I win?”
“Maybe I shouldn’t let you win the next time since it reverts you back to first grade,” she snapped, then crossing her arm in front of her, “so if you know what’s good for you… don’t push it.”
Knowing life would be easier without having “hell hathed fury by a sore-loser scorned”, he clamped his mouth shut, stifled a giddy grin, and contented himself to a silent victory jiggle the moment she turned her back at him.
He wins. She wins.
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