I woke up this morning feeling a little queasy and completely weirded out. The thing is that I had a bizarre dream that included me, my family and *GASP!* Sanjaya.

Anyone who's read some of my American Idol-related posts can tell you how much I hate Sanjaya with a passion. Him and his odd singing and his equally strange staying power which I have yet to grasp.

Now before you psychologists or psychologist-wannabes start assessing my dream and nailing a label on my forehead, lemme clear out first that I do not have any hidden desires to this untalented schmuck and just the thought has started a goosebump trend around my neck region.

So here's how the dream went. Aparently I was friends with some Indian national with similarly long hair and I wanted to play a prank on my neices and sister who has been a AI viewer and like me, a Blake and Melinda supporter. I told my friend to wear this huge pair of shades (ala-Vincent Dafalong) , brought him home and introduced him to my family.

And I remember distinctly my family's facial expressions: more like mortification than starstruck. It looked as though everyone was on the verge of a very bloody scream, the type you would only let loose when being stalked by some legendary blood-sucking East European monarch.

Then my friend reveals to me that he is indeed that blasted Sanjaya Malakar. I remember freezing in horror and then I was awake.

Fothermucking Weird.

Most of my friends are aware that I am allergic to seafood. And it sucks that this allergy wasn't something I was born with; it developed during high school, a time when I would be looking forward to my mom cooking up some tahong, alimasag, pusit or hipon.

I just thought of mentioning this, just in case some of my friends are unaware and would be offering me a seefood platter the next time I visit thier place. That and the fact that I just ate four breaded shrimps.

Yeah, four pieces of deep fried shrimp may be not much, but for me it's already being a daredevil and deliberately irritating my immuno system. You see, whenever I try to eat some shelled delicacy, my lips, tongue and entire mouth starts itching and, a few minutes later, would swell up. I end up looking like a male, more simian counterpart but less hairy version of Angelina Jolie. And depends on how much I eat, I sometimes get rashes and I get irritable the entire day. Though thankfully I have not reached the point of having my widpipe swell up so much, cutting my oxygen supply entirely.

So far the shrimps I ingested have simple made my throat and lips itch, spread some heat inside my mouth, and caused me to sweat profusely despite not being that hot at all (I realize this may not actually be an effect of eating seafood).

NEVER leave me with a camera and Photoshop.

I was fresh out of my short, short stint as a graphic artist for a local bookstore when I got home and was told that a certain Mark had called. Over the years I have met numerous Marks, from different schools and companies I’ve been to, so naturally I asked which Mark it was. My niece, who had received the call, of course had no idea, but she did give me a number this Mark left for me.

For some reason I cannot remember at this point, it took me two days to actually send a text message to this Mark, I’m willing to bet that procrastination was a big part of it. So apparently it was Marc Fronda from grade school, he says in a text response that they were planning a reunion for our class and would I be so kind enough to join them in one of their meetings. Of course I could not commit to anything at the time because I was waiting for some projects to start. A week later I finally found myself ambling towards this coffee shop in front of RTU called Beanperk for a low-frequency reunion or sorts and my week’s caffeine fix. And there they were seated neatly by a table: Isabel, Jacklyn, Aladin, Jose and Charisse. Carousell soon followed, as well as, Bryan, Abby and Marc. It’s been years since I shared breathing space with these people and I oddly felt neither familiar nor alienated. It was surreal to be in the same room with these people whom I’ve been both very childish and mature with.

So week after week we met up at the same venue to talk about grade school days and planning the reunion. We went through the entire planning, inviting, gathering up sponsors and getting people to confirm attendance, and to be able to do most of these we went sweaty and tangled up, walking around from one classmate's house to another. After the first house-to-house we decided that a good relaxing, slow evening of bonding was in order. And we then found our way, in Marc's van, to Papa Jek's in Marikina. After a hearty meal and a round of beer (and Calis) we started talking about each one's fondest memories and asked questions each.

The night ended with us taking our bonding to the parking space outside and amazingly enough, bared our souls. I have to admit that I never thought I'd actually go out with people I met during grade school and have a great time, much more bond with them on a deeper level.

ERES'95 BATCHMATES!




Here are my pictures...

Planning Stage


Initial Designs


Venue Designs


-= ERES'95 REUNION =-

COMING SOON: I'm PSYCHED!

I'm excited. I've been waiting for these films since I read/heard about them last year.

Grindhouse



Transformers



Fantastic Four 2: The Rise of the Silver Surfer



Ocean's Thirteen

I just saw American Idol results show and I'm pissed. Badtrip talaga.

First, Ryan Seacrest had the nine remaining idols divided into three groups.
Group One: Chris, Blake and that blasted Sanjaya.
Group Two: Phil, Gina and Haley.
Group Three: LaKisha, Jordin and Melinda.

Of course we know that LaKisha, Jordin and especially Melinda are crowd favorites, so no shock that they're safe. Chris, Blake (who really amazed me by doing a really controlled vocal work that was neither as flashy a performance nor a bona fide concert-sounding beatbox infused that we're familiar with) and Sanjaya were apparently the Top 3 based on the votes. So, of course, they're safe. And I have to be honest that I'm now at peace that Americans will continue to vote for that Sanjaya guy, which defeats the purpose of having a REAL singing contest, needless to say when he was everyone in his group was announced to be safe, I was not suprised. Well, mildly.

So it's down to Phil, Haley and Gina. Haley (whose eyes, I've come to notice, are too close to each other) didn't get any thumbs up from the judges during this week's performance. In fact, the only positive response she got was that she has great legs and that green is her color. Phil did a fine job, vocally speaking, but was told that he lacked soul and failed to establish connections with the audience. Gina, again, had the audience cheering and the judges raving with another splendid performance which was way outside her rock-inclined pop forte.

This post is dedicated to Gina Glocksen,
my Freefall.

* Went channel surfing and when I got to Star World I heard them playing Rivermaya's "You'll Be Safe Here" as background for their current events video. So you'll hear the song while they show scenes of various wars, demonstrations, celebrations and various events around the world in recent history. Sorta like what BBC does using songs by MOBY. And I find it odd that the only scene from the Philippines that I had recognized had close-up shot of Armida Siguion-Reyna talking on a mike.

* So it was Beaver Casablancas who raped Veronica during that party.
And it was Beaver who blew up the bus.
It's been weeks since I saw the season finale for Veronica Mars and I'm itching to start season 3. I don't mind that we're late by a season, but come on, don't leave us hanging! This is why I hate it when it's off-season.

* Sanjaya is really getting on my nerves. A lot of contestants have gotten the boot in favor of this talentless schmuck.
Stephanie Edwards, Chris Sligh, Brandon Rogers, AJ Tabaldo, Sundance Head have all been sent home. And they all have great voices and amazing vocal range. Sanjaya, on the other hand, has been getting bad comments from the judges and shows no actual professional singing talent. He's Idol6's version of Kevin Covais with the Clay Aiken gay-aura. Apparently, I'm not alone in this sentiment. I found someone else on MySpace, only she hates Sanjaya with so much insane passion that she even started a hunger strike- denying himself food until that annoying idol finalist is off the show. I don't care if Rose McGowan chose him as her "Idol pick." Although I agree with when she said "Keep on keepin' on with your bad voice and bad hair..."

* I don't know why, but I vaguely remember being told in grade school by a teacher that the Rice Terraces in Baguio was part of the Seven Wonders of the World. I grew up thinking that it was, I never double checked because the never saw the need. And that was how gullible I was.
Recently I found out that authorities are now opening the polls so that, this time, we can vote for the new seven wonders of the world.

Click here so you can have your say.

Since I'm not very good at introductions (evidenced by the lengthy time I spent trying to figure out what to put in "ABOUT ME") I figured it's fitting that I include a random pictures every post here and comment or tell some stories behind them.

Here's an old, old picture of me during the early 80s with our imaginatively-named cat Muningning. Why there was an ancient tennis racket and a scowl on my face, I have no clue.

I grew up basically knowing myself as an animal lover, we'd always have dogs as pets and whenever I would go out into the streets and chance upon abandon kittens I would bring them home. This wasn't exactly a good idea since three in my family are inflicted by asthma (my Dad, a sister and brother), while two got the consolation priza, aka rhinitis (me and a sister). Because of this, we weren't permitted to go anywhere near the cats.

In a few years the accumulated abandoned kitten farm had moved to the vacant lot just outside our backyard. They had grown into quite a clan of cats who were so violently afraid of humans that they steered clear whenever anyone went near them.

So I think it was only proper that I got to study at St. Francis School during high school. The patron saint, St. Francis of Assissi, is widely known as for his love for animals...though you'd probably never see me hanging around talking to birds or prancing around the garden, barefoot, singing "Brother Sun, Sister Moon."

So there I was last night at Megamall and boarded a jeepney to get to Acacia Lane so I could flag an Antipolo ride.

The driver of the jeepney I got on had a death wish. Now don't get me wrong, I'm a bit of a speed freak and I enjoy the the adrenaline rush as much as the next guy, but please don't do it on the streets of Shaw Boulevard at 7:00 pm! I mean, the jackass was zooming down the street past other jeepneys and cars, and we almost banged onto some of them! The inertia was so bad that I and the guy sittng next to me (we were sitting in front) were literally holding on.

So MR. DRIVER of Pasig-Quiapo jeepney with plate number TYE106:
DAMN YOU.