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Ramblings
Thursday, December 25, 2003. 02:44 a.m.Second Interlude I just came back from my family's insane, chaotic Christmas party. I'm still high on crab meat (which I'm mildly allergic to, but is too yummy for me to care). As my mom and I were driving back home, I suddenly realized that with all the "Merry Christmas"es I'd been passing out, I'd forgotten to greet the most important person involved: the celebrant himself. So --- and I don't care how hokey this might sound --- Happy Birthday, Jesus! Just Call Me Sappy Sapperson This has nothing to do with Christmas. I'm not an overly sentimental person during any season, anyway. This rambling is partly in reference to a fan fic I wrote last Monday (the same day of Team Innocent's fun fun fun Christmas Extravaganza). It's a deplorable hobby, really, because the majority of existing fan fics (in any fandom) is just plain crappy. But I suppose every person is allowed a few guilty pleasures. Getting back on track... Heaven Bound Rating: G Summary: Set after Ultimate X-Men #40, Warren and Ororo talk and take to the skies. The content is just a little bit mushy, but it's not too bad for something I turned out at three in the morning. It certainly has enough angst to keep it a bit balanced. God forbid I ever write a wholly happy story. The title of the rambling also refers to my newfound Ultimate Angel / Storm 'shippiness. I love how Bendis writes them! It sure makes up for the abysmally shallow, stupid Storm that existed under Mark Millar's pen. Also, I've never really connected with Archangel from the regular continuity, but this Warren, I totally get. The Angel / Storm attraction in Ultimate X-Men has made me decide to stick with the series a little while longer (I had planned on dropping it right after the Blockbuster arc). Damn that Bendis and his kick ass writing. Just when I think I'm out, he pulls me back in! And it doesn't hurt that David Finch draws the yummiest Angel. 
Anyway, read Heaven Bound if you've got five minutes to spare. Review it if you've got five more minutes. On my oath, most of the cheesiness is contained within the title. I never was much good at coming up with good, snappy titles. Damned If You Do Christmas is coming up (thank you, Captain Obvious). That means three events for me: Christmas Eve at Lolo Bert's, Christmas Day with Lolo (Teddy) and the almost annual Caraig / Lozare three-day Baguio vacation. Except this year, the Mateos and Sarayans are coming, too. The more the merrier, right? Um, most of the time. See the thing is, the vacation house we're renting is barely enough for the Caraig / Lozares (and under the Lozares, the subgroups Villanuevas, Manuels and Santiago) to fit in. And while there is another group of bedrooms that the Mateos and Sarayans can occupy, the fact of the matter is that there are only two bathrooms. Thirty-odd people + two bathrooms = trouble. There is also no conceivable way we can all fit in the dining table, which means some people will have to eat in the living room. Bummer. Plus, more people = more food = gigantic cleanup. (Incidentally, the young people usually get stuck with this duty, being neither good cooks nor good sweeper-people.) Also, more people = ubiquitous messiness = my mom and I go mad. We're extremely anal about cleanliness and neatness, but not everyone in our family is so inclined. As much as I love my relatives and as much fun as they are, I really don't think I could survive three nights living with all of them under the same roof, especially the *ahem* delightfully rambunctious children. I get stressed out and claustrophobic after a few minutes in a crowded shopping mall. So I suggested to my mom that instead of going to Baguio with our clan, we take that trip to Singapore that we've been postponing for a year now. Ah, Singapore (or more specifically, Sentosa). My chest feels lighter at the thought of going there instead. Singapore is civilized. Moreover, we don't have to cook or clean up after other people, so we can concentrate on having fun. We get to stay in a nice, spacious room in Shangri-La. We have the bathroom all to ourselves. The beach is right downstairs, there are good shopping centers and restaurants everywhere and best of all, there's an aquarium where you can watch dolphins and other marine life. I've never seen real-life dolphins before. I have, on the other hand, seen Baguio's Mines View Park and Club John Hay many, many times. I haven't been to Singapore since I was five, but I went to Baguio just last year (and several times the years before). Of course, there's a down side to the going abroad plan. There always, always is. Mama feels that our relatives might feel bad if we ditch them to go to Singapore. She's probably right. Augh!!!  But come on! Families are required to forgive us if we want to spend our vacation elsewhere. We're only two people! How much will they miss us, anyway? We can always go with them to Baguio next year. Why, why, why should family obligations rule personal preferences?
*sigh* I'll tell you why. It's because that's the kind of family we are. Rats. I'm still holding out hope that Mama will change her mind and decide it would be nicer to go to Singapore. I'll drop hints, I'll plead with her, I'll exaggerate the cons of the Baguio trip. Yeah, it's dirty pool. But I'm playing to win. Denial is Not Just a River in England My dad came over today to give me my birthday present. Aside from an awkward moment when Mama left to go to work, it was surprisingly nice. He fixed the wires of the light-up Christmas village that Wolverine mangled and we chatted for a bit. He didn't talk too much about himself, which is always a plus. We spent most of the time looking over pictures of my family and models of motorcycles. Apparently, they're his new hobbby. He has one of his own, too. I guess he wouldn't be Dad if he didn't display some symptom of midlife crisis. Some things about him struck me as curious, though. He went to the bathroom twice, and during those times he made some funny noises. Like he was in pain or something (and I can tell pain from pleasure --- besides, he was only in the bathroom briefly; he certainly didn't have enough time to jack off). Maybe there's something wrong with his waterworks. Also, he refused to take off his jacket, explaining that he didn't want his wounds to be exposed. Apparently, he had a small accident with someone else's motorcycle. What occurred to me immediately was that maybe he was covering up hit marks or something. Amphetamines can be injected intravenously, right? Maybe I'm being needlessly suspicious. But he's still a bit thin and I don't really trust him to be strong enough to kick an addiction --- especially to a drug as powerful as shabu. But I guess it's not really my business. His life, his choice. I just pray I'm not gonna get a call from Tita Shirley in the middle of the night telling me my dad has OD'ed. That would be, like, Nightmare City. Of Stretchy Shorts and My Cousin Jeff I belatedly celebrated my birthday with my friends and my dad's side of the family this weekend. The weekend before, I celebrated my birthday with my mom's side of the family in Puerto Galera. Party hearty, baby! Plus, all the gifts they gave me was from my list. Awoohoo! Having limited the List to my mom's side of the family, my friends and my dad's side of the family got free rein in choosing my presents, the most notable of which were stretchy Adidas shorts. I love my aunts and the shorts are really nice, but sometimes I think they don't know me very well at all. Sports and I are like oil and water. Or better yet, we're like matter and anti-matter (I just finished reading Dan Brown's Angels and Demons). Whenever we meet --- kablooey! Well, not really, but it's not a pretty picture. But enough shallowness. Let's move on to the bitchiness, shall we? Jeff has recently broken up with his girlfriend, Tiara. His dad says he's taking it a bit hard. I feel bad that Jeff feels bad, but the awful truth is I'm doing cartwheels over the fact that they finally broke up (or I would be, if I could do cartwheels without falling flat on my ass). I never did like her (no one in our family did, it seems, which is telling because we've fully welcomed all the other significant others of our family members), but I do feel a bit guilty. It might have been our disapproval that drove Jeff to break up with Tiara. But that's probably just me being conceited. Ate Det-Det (Jeff's older sister) informed me back in Puerto Galera that Tiara hardly ever made Jeff happy. Jeff is naturally happy and easygoing, but his immediate family noticed that he'd be stressed out whenever he was around her. So it's probably good that he finally got out of that relationship. I have no doubt that Jeff will pull through this slump just fine. He'll probably be smarter and stronger for it, too. I just wish he didn't have to go through all that grief with Tiara. I also wish that I didn't have a personal policy against violence. Sometimes, when I see Tiara in church, I get the urge to punch her in the face. Thank God she and her freeloading, diva-ish, demanding, presumptuous, phony-sweet, taking-Jeff-for-granted ass are out of our lives. Nobody who fucks with my favorite cousin (or any one of my cousins) should stick around too long. That's just asking for trouble, suh, and it's a good thing Jeff made a preemptive strike. For her sake. Huh. Does it seem like my language gets more vulgar when I'm mad? Anyway, I've heard that bashing your ex is an integral part of the healing process. Too bad Jeff's too much of a gentleman to get into that. Guess my cousins and I will just have to do it behind his back. Hehehe. 
And now to bring the rambling back to me (because I'm self-centered, and self-centered people do that): now, more than ever, I'm thankful that I'm not in any kind of romantic relationship. It's just too damn troublesome. I Love Beak, or Gimme Some Sugar, Barnell Bohusk No, I haven't gone completely nuts. To those unfamiliar with X-Men comics, Beak is a character in New X-Men. He's a Special Class student in the Xavier Institute for Higher Learning. What he is, if you haven't already guessed from his name, is a mutant bird-man (or teenage boy). You can check his bio out here and see him gracing the cover New X-Men #125 here. Yes, he's munching on a grasshopper. The loveable Barnell Bohusk first appeared in New X-Men #117. He was being chased by the equally loveable but fearsome looking furry Beast, who was trying to terrorize Barnell into flying. Flapping his wings furiously, he managed to get an inch off the ground before being tackled by Hank. Thus, comic book readers were introduced to the freaky looking (even by mutant standards), shy, insecure, suicidal, self-deprecating, lonely, isolated, neurotic Dutch rocker mutant Beak. (Wow, that's a lot of adjectives). Even in a school of outcasts, Barnell was an outsider. How can anyone not feel for the guy? Key Beak Issues Quotable Beak Beak: I'm totally naked, self-conscious and crazy in the head... I deserve pants as a basic human right. Beak: It's very important for me to process the trauma of my life these last few days! The Stepford Cuckoos: You're an undeniable weirdo, Barnell Bohusk. (On Cassandra Nova and the mind-controlled Shi'ar Empire) Angel: Aw, yeah! She totally murdered like millions of mutants on that island, right? This space psycho is gonna hand it to you guys on a ass-shaped plate, Beakie. She'll eat your brains out... Beak: Ttuh! She'd throw up if she ate mine. She'd cut her throat if she had to be me for more than five minutes. Beak: Keep your beer and cigarettes. I'm straight-edge hardcore. My body is my temple. Angel: Yeah, like a temple to Satan, you weirdo! Beak: Buh-kaww! Beak: Oh, yeah? Buck you! (After crashing from the sky) Beak: You see this? This was once a neck here. (On finding acceptance) Beak: For me there is now only the circus. (After being kissed by Angel) Beak: Hello, Universe. This is the greatest day of my life. (On having sex in the woods) Beak: Where is the romance among the bugs and the toadstools? What if somebody trips over us and tells everyone? (On deciding whether to help Xorn) Basilisk: So when did common sense stand on its head and make you leader anyhow, Beakum? Beak: You are the ones who make me the leader by standing there doing @&@$! You guys make me look like the X-Men! Basilisk: But we're supposed to be losers. That's the point of us. That's why they put us in Mister Xorn’s special class. Beak: No way! No way are we losers! Do I look like a loser to you? *Blank stares* Basilisk: You'll never be X-Man material, Beak! And Angel's only here 'cause she likes the taste of finger-lickin' frozen chicken! Hyukk! Basilisk: So... what's in it for me if I save everybody? Which of you lovely ladies will be my bride? Beak: Do something and even I will be your bride! Basilisk: Hyukk! (On Basilisk's strobe pulse) Beak: Your eyebeam... it is just some cheap copy of Cyclops. Mr. Summers will sue you for stealing the copyright trademark to his talent. Beak: This is the one time in my life I have the chance to be taken seriously as more than just a potential food source for dogs! Xorn: These are vulnerable children, Bishop. Please be careful with your interrogations. All of them have been exploited and abused. They are very sensitive. Beak: Say that again and I will have to kill you! There is no such room as "The Toilet" in Clue! Basilisk: There is now! "Professor Sex in the toilet with the lawnmower" --- that's whodunit! Hyukk! Bishop: I see what you mean. Children and bird-like appearance aside, Beak reminds me a lot of me. It's a pity Grant Morrison is leaving, because it almost certainly means that Beak will wander off into limbo. New writers never seem to want to continue the stories of their predecessor's minor characters. Speaking of which, Marvel has yet to announnce who'll be taking over New X-Men once Grant moves over to DC. They've been keeping surprisingly mum about it, which makes me think the new writer's going to be someone big. Some rumors say that it's Joss Whedon (creator of Buffy and Angel). I'm split in two about that. On the one hand, Angel rocks. On the other hand, Buffy started going down into the crapper around season 4 (they really should have axed it then and not dragged it out for three more seasons). Joss gave his fans great storylines (Angelus, the Ascension, seasons 1, 2 and 4 of Angel), good villains (Angelus, the Mayor, Drusilla, Spike, Faith) and great character development (specifically that oh-so-convenient one that allowed Angel to have his own show). Unfortunately he also gave us the most boring villain and love interest in TV history (Adam and Riley, respectively), a yawn-a-minute story arc (The Initiative) and the so-sickening-I-wanna-drown-in-a-pool-of-my-own-vomit Spike / Buffy romance. Way to ruin a great character, Joss (I speak of Spike, of course). If he does take over New X-Men, I think the quality could go either way. But I'm digressing here. Where was I? Oh, yeah, Beak. Beak rocks. Even if he disappears from the pages of New X-Men, I'll still have the old issues to reread. *sighs happily* Hurray for misfits! So's Your Momma, or Wolverine vs. Bonsai --- What Might Have Happened The next door neighbor's brat picked an inopportune time to have her cousin or friend come over. For today, yes, is the third day of my period. It's not as bad as the second day, but it makes me prickly enough to pick a fight with two six or seven year olds. My dog Wolverine was feeling restless all day because Manang, being sick, couldn't take him out for his many walks. So I took him out for a bit and, wouldn't you know it, the monster next door chose the exact same time to show off her ugly-ass dog Bonsai to her cousin-or-friend. There are days when I feel sorry for the little mongrel (they leave him outside and never let him come indoors, rain or shine, and hardly ever walk him), but today wasn't one of those days. The little son of a bitch was encroaching on my dog's territory! He was threatening to pee on my Jimny's tire when he must still clearly smell Wolverine's own piss on it! Well, I wasn't about to take that lying down. So began the name-calling. My mom later reprimanded me for it, but I don't care. I'm in a warlike mood and if those two little pests just happened to be in the area when I was unleashing my temper, TOO. FUCKING. BAD. But then (ugh), Wolverine and Bonsai began sniffing and barking at each other. These two little dogs were growling and trying to show the world and each other that they were really big dogs inside and don't you fuck with me, mister. It would have been comical if I wasn't so damn protective of my dog (when a rat was loose in our house, I made him hide with me in my mom's car). So I picked up Wolverine, turned tail and fled inside the house. Yeah, the whelps won. Auuuuugh!!! But my dog is not a coward. Let's be clear on that point. I am a coward, at least where he's concerned. Bonsai is an ugly, bowlegged mixed breed (either that, or a pug-cloning experiment gone horribly, horribly wrong) and is about as smart as a bag of hammers. But what he lacks in brains and beauty, he makes up for with sheer dumb bravery. I've no doubt that if I hadn't grabbed Wolverine and booked, that the two would be at each other's throats right now. As for my own dog, he's got a Napoleon complex and will scrap with any dog of any size just to prove that he's got what it takes to bring them down, brutha! Unfortunately, like all victims of the Napoleon complex, he's also tiny. And in the canine world where size most assuredly matters, the only dog he could take on is a chihuahua. *sighs* It makes me wonder, though (and hopefully, I'll never have to find out for sure): who would win in a fight between Wolverine and Bonsai? Let's examine the pros and cons for Wolverine, shall we? And I promise to be as impartial as I can be. Cons: Pros: Neutral Factors The deciding factor in this fight, I think, will be the ensuing pissiness of the dog owners. And you better damn well believe I can take the bitches next door down. *Exeunt Erika* I'm off to take a shower. Getting worked up makes me sweaty, and you wouldn't like me when I'm sweaty. Hell, I don't even like me when I'm sweaty. Greed I'm never so guilty of greediness as I am when my birthday and Christmastime roll around. For some reason, the greediness gene automatically kicks into high gear in the early weeks of November. While I was happily prattling on earlier tonight, ticking off the things I wanted, I was unintentionally running my mom to the ground. She's swamped with work and obligations to the church choir, and I just kept dumping more stuff on her hands. Poor thing, after all the trouble she went through to arrange the overnight stay at Puerto Galera. Note to self: I'll have to make it up to her. I'm not sure how, though. Tomorrow we're putting up some of our Christmas decorations. I say some, not all, because she's got choir practice in the afternoon. Maybe I'll finish putting up the rest of the decorations on my own. I guess it's about time I step up to the plate. Mama and Dad have already had their turns putting up the decorations outside. Feh. I can do that. *false bravado* I'll just have to make sure that Manang is holding the stepladder steady and that I don't look down more times than I absolutely have to. And Today's Lesson Is... ...if it ain't broke, don't fix it. I foolishly opted to have my wisdom tooth removed today. The surgery itself was painless (I was loaded with anesthesia) and took all of seven minutes. But now the anesthesia has worn off and I'm in hell. Hell, hell, HELL!!! I have a painfully (no pun intended) low threshold of pain. Dull and / or throbbing pain like menstrual cramps, I can take like a champ. Sharp, constant pain? I deal with that by screaming and sobbing my head off like a big, fat baby (which I was doing just ten minutes ago, incidentally). Oh Jesus, it hurts! It hurts even now! And since I'm allergic to a lot of stronger painkillers like Alaxan (my eyes puff up like a blowfish), I'm stuck taking two Biogesic tablets every four hours. It does nothing for me. Worse yet, the doctor seems to think this will last at least four days! Augggh! And to think, I was casually telling my mom that I could easily deal with this, since I'd already survived ottitis media twice. This is me, eating crow, because this toothache (or lack-of-tooth ache) is just as bad. FYI, acute ottitis media is an ear infection that makes you feel as though someone is very maliciously pressing the sharp edge of a knife on every square inch of your middle ear. It doesn't let up for a minute. And neither does this fucking toothache. Yeah, you've heard it before, but I'm saying it again, anyway: kill me, kill me now. Edit (the next day): Okay, the initial shock of how painful a tooth extraction is has worn off. I'm better now. The left side of my face still hurts like the dickens, but it's nothing I can't handle. Really. The only problem is, the toothache discourages eating, talking, singing, yawning, pursing my lips in any way or moving my mouth in general. That's basically my entire existence right there. But it's okay. Really. I can still type, can't I? 
And All That Jazz Pitas' crash caused my latest three ramblings to get deleted. It wasn't really a great loss, as far as I'm concerned, but it was inconvenient. However, Nina has promised me that as soon as she gets a new server (or something), I won't have to use Pitas to update my pages. Good-o! Moving on... Halloween has come and gone. Martin's annual murder mystery was a blast. I was actually able to solve the damn thing. Finally! I was pretty much bouncing off the walls with joy. That's not too good for my jaded, indifferent image. Gah! But I don't care. I've solved one of Martin's crazy-ass mysteries! Granted, he gave away more hints and clues than he probably should have, but it's still an accomplishment. Also, I asked Ranina to videotape the whole thing. She agreed, but ran out of tape before the game officially started. The entire sixty minute video comprises everything pre-game. I told her to conserve the tape, but no one ever listens to genius. Oh, yeah, and Going to Hell in a Handbag passed its one year anniversary last September without me being aware of it. But I'll celebrate that soon enough, with new content and a new layout some time around my birthday. Or Christmas. Whichever. Speaking of my birthday, I've known this for quite a while now but was too lazy to write about it. I'm celebrating my 20th birthday with an overnight stay with my family in an island resort. That's thirty-five Lozares / Caraigs / Manuels / Villanuevas / Mateos / Sarayans (and one solitary Santiago --- that's me, sonny) in one island. How the resort staff (or my mother's checkbook) will survive, I have no idea. Well, it's Mama's own fault for spoiling me rotten. 
As for how I'm celebrating my birthday with my friends, I'm thinking I'll just have some small party that takes place at my house, so I won't burden my mom's finances any further. Maybe we'll have another murder mystery (so Martin will have a chance to play instead of hosting the thing). My mom suggested acting out Clue, instead of just playing it. I really want to do that, except I have to work out the mechanics of the game first. Now on to more somber news, now that I've got the joy joy stuff out of the way. I found out two days ago that my grandfather (my dad's dad) has prostrate cancer. He's taking medication for it now. My aunts told me not to worry, that the doctor's optimistic about the medication taking hold at this point and that surgery isn't necessary yet. Mama, who's coming home tonight from her five-day trip to Apo Reef, said that prostrate cancer is one of those cancers that you can lick. I wasn't sure if people were just sugarcoating the situation for me (yeah, they still do that sometimes --- I'm not sure why) or telling me the truth, so I looked it up on the Net. Evidently, if there's a type of cancer you want to have, it's prostrate cancer, because it's fairly treatable. I'd consider that a good thing, except that there is no good thing where cancer is involved. Cancer runs strong in the Santiago family (that and diabetes and addictive personalities). I wouldn't be surprised if that's how Lola Cristy (Lolo's sister) died. It happened several weeks ago, but I'm a bit fuzzy on the details. On a side note, my asshole father said something in the vein of, "I think he'll be going next," when breaking the news of Lolo's cancer to me. Melodrama is a way of life for dear old dad. It would be funny if it wasn't so damn pitiful. My aunts (his sisters) try to shelter me from the bad and / or controversial things that happen in our family (I'm still waiting for them to confirm what I've suspected for years --- that Tita Pi is gay). My dad, on the other hand, exaggerates everything. The only person who's ever told me the bald, naked truth is my Tita Lisa, and she talks to walls. When it comes to being dysfunctional, the Simpsons have got nothing on us. And to top this rambling off, my wisdom tooth is giving me hell. I suppose I ought to have it removed, but it isn't impacted and I'm not sure I want to put myself through an extraction. Interlude On this, the first day of a new month, I suddenly realized that I would be turning twenty in exactly fifty-three days. ... Is it possible to suffer midlife crisis at twenty years old? The Return of the King Trailer It's out. You can download it at TheOneRing.net. To be perfectly honest, I'm not too impressed. Some parts of it sent shivers up my spine, but the rest is recycled stuff from the previous previews. Even some of the newer scenes are all too similar to scenes from Fellowship and Two Towers. I'm not judging the movie by the trailer, though, as I'm sure Return of the King is going to rock the casbah. It better. *glares threateningly* I won't do a frame by frame analysis, because it's taxing work and I have neither the time nor the inclination. But I will list out the things I can make out in the video. It's therapeutic for me. *taps fingers impatiently, waiting for the official site to come out with a full-screen version of the trailer* Anyway, here they are: Legolas: The Eye of the Enemy is moving. Elrond (voice-over): The end has come. Aragorn: Everyday, Frodo moves closer to Mordor. Gandalf: How do we know Frodo's alive? Aragorn: What does your heart tell you? Gollum: Come, master. *He catches sight of the One Ring hanging from Frodo's neck.* Come to Sméagol. Heh. Why, that nasty bugger. Elrond (voice-over): This is your test. Every path you have trod, through wilderness, through war, has led to this road. Elrond (voice-over): The Enemy will never let Aragorn come to the throne of Gondor. Arwen: It is time. Arwen (voice-over): Give him the sword of the king. Elrond: Become who you were born to be. Gollum: The precious will be ours. Sam: He means to murder us! Gollum: Never! Frodo: I'm not sending him away. Come, Sméagol. Gandalf (voice-over): The board is set. The pieces are moving. If it sounds familiar, it's because Gandalf said it before in the RoTK preview. Legolas: He is here. Gandalf (voice-over): We come to it at last. Aragorn (voice-over): I see in your eyes the same fear that would take the heart of me. The voice-over lasts until the next shot. Caption: This Christmas The voice-over lasts until the shot with Galadriel. Caption: The journey ends Éowyn: Whatever happens, stay with me. That whole Aragorn voice-over gave me goose pimples. Talk about misleading editing. The trailer makes it look as though Éowyn is with the Army of the West as they make for Mordor. Caption: There can be no triumph without loss Gandalf (voice-over): All you have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to you. The voice-over lasts over the next two shots. How very foreshadow-y, especially of Théoden's fate. Merry: We shall see the Shire again. Caption: No victory without suffering Elrond (voice-over): You gave away your life's grace. Elrond: I cannot protect you anymore. Caption: No freedom without sacrifice Éomer: You cannot achieve victory through strength of arms. Aragorn (voice-over): Not for ourselves... Aragorn: ... but we can give Frodo a chance. Flash cuts: Sam: No! End trailer. I suppose New Line left the juicy parts out of the trailer to keep them a secret. Well, their strategy is working, because now I want to see the movie even more! Anticipation levels... rising... Oh, yes, and more hugs for Sam. Sam rocks. I love Sam, he's the most huggable character in the books (and the movies). I want a Sam doll or a Sam pillow. Did I mention I love Sam? Edit (the next day): Okay, now that I've downloaded a larger video with a much higher resolution from the official site, I'm a little more impressed. Still, it could be better. F'instance, the official site could upload a full screen version of the trailer. Hehe. Internet Withdrawal, or The Tale of the Useless Computer So the PLDT guy finally got around to fixing our Internet connection today, which means he was only... four days late. What excellent service. Btw, I spent a good deal of those four days listening to a repeated recording of Huey Lewis and Gwyneth Paltrow's "Cruisin'" while I was on hold with the PLTD repair service hotline. I got through to an operator a big total of one time. The rest of the day I spent browsing through every single folder in both drives of our computer. I finally realized, after a few hours doing just this, that said computer is completely useless without the Internet. It was also about that time that I started suffering from Internet withdrawal symptoms: restlessness, boredom, incessant tapping of fingers, and then later, very mild anxiety attacks over the news of my various fandoms that I was missing out on. But now, I'm finally back online and all is once again right with the world. Go never again from my side, precioussss. The Peril of Piano-Playing Aunts It's been a while since my last entry. A bit has happened since I wrote "Booyah!" that should have warranted long, individual ramblings --- among them being crippled while walking down a two hundred-step stairway to my mom's favorite dive resort (I label that weekend The Worst Time of My Life), taking my dog to an emergency veterinarian clinic at half past nine p.m. because he was ill, and finally seeing the movies Finding Nemo and Pirates of the Carribean. Funnily enough, what prompts this present (overdue) rambling is nothing so earth-shaking *smirks* as the aforementioned events. Tita Grace came to our house at an ungodly hour in the morning (and got barked at by Wolverine until she left --- silly dog) because she and my mom were taking off for yet another scuba diving weekend. To pass the time while my mom was running hither and yon getting their stuff ready, she played "Moon River" on the piano. I bet you can guess what happened next. Yup, the song got stuck in my head. Is still stuck in my head, as a matter of fact. And the worst part is, I only know exactly one line in the entire song: moon river, wider than a mile. And now that same line keeps running over and over again in my head. I blame my insomnia, for without it I would have been tucked safely in my bed, asleep until Mama and Tita Grace had departed. I think I may just shoot myself. |
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