Life and Lemons

Keep a chain-smoker off his sticks forever and you may as well kill him. But telling someone with a full set of sweet teeth all the way down to the molars that he can no longer touch a knob of chocolate and it’s like a piece-meal death, one excruciating limb at a time.

Life lesson: bad habits are hard to break, but fun routines can be heartbreaking to stop. But I think second time’s the charm. In any case, it’s already November 7 in a few hours 🙂

LALALALALALALALALALALALA-LALA-LALALA

Plan A has officially been killed. I particularly thought the reason was BS, and that the tiny boss head honcho woman didn’t like me at first up-down sweeping glance, but okay, I’m done being pissed and bitter. Okay. I’m done NOW. As the cliche (and about 5 people) tells me, when a window opens, the silver lining breaks the shit pile. Or something to that effect. Haha, I’m trying to be funny, but I think I’m just coming out ironic.

So now, the life plan is:

Try for another department? Try for another company? What about MBA? Go for UP and kill myself with an 830am-630pm workday then a 630pm-9pm school day, not counting the grueling 5 hours accumulated commute and the required study hours once I get home Lord knows what time at night, limp and sadly crushed and exhausted. Or try ADMU so I can have Sat classes, and pay twice the UP tuition and mingle with the conyos (I will so be an outcast) and lunch in Rockwell (I will be officially in poverty)? And, I’ll have another day scratched off my social calendar! Do I buy a car? I’m torn between Team Jazz and Team new City, both dark gray. Can I afford it? Can I afford gas? Can I not pay for insurance? Do I have to get insurance for myself?? Ah. Wait, where do I park? And, do I still go for the writing thing which is what I truly madly deeply sincerely want to do? It is my mission.

Oh, and by the way, by freelance writing boss hasn’t paid me yet for the last 3 articles, and although he says he’s having problems collecting from his client and that he can give me other projects, and I do miss writing about those things I don’t know heck about, I think I don’t want to before getting paid first. Haha, just following the way of the world.

And I thought I don’t have much to say. Huh.

So happy Celina succumbed to the pull of Trinoma today. Our quest for COMELEC registration may have been delayed, but our desire to shop and dent our shallow pockets were not forestalled. I love it. I miss Trinoma. I’ll see you again next Saturday. I hope Fame is still showing then. Yay! ANNDDD, I’m going to be a registered voter by next Sunday!!! (Please God, don’t let the line then be as mile-long as it was this afternoon. Do you not know of death by water-deprivation?)

Oh. And Hell Week, phase 1 has been successfully accomplished. But I still hate (okay, only resent) my boss for leaving me for a ten-day vacay. I need a vacay too! Again! And I am kinda torn if I prefer her present or not. With her gone I can do what I want and be sure that there are less screw-ups. Hihi. Because honestly, I don’t get her system of labor. But with that, I am dead by the end of every day and I leave the branch so late I don’t have time to buy that dress I saw in Glorietta!! Not fair. Hehe. Whatev. Let
Hell Week, phase 2, commence in about 30+ more hours…

To end on a happier note:

Movie will be out when I am 24 years and 3 days old, which is not fantastic, but I’m still so excited! Vanilla, will give ya a real hug then! =)

Beth has been crushing on Paul for the longest time.
Paul has a new wife and said wife is expecting.
Jill is Beth’s friend. She used to think the scenario is quite funny.
Paul starts talking to Jill through IM on a daily basis.
He tells her he has a crush on her and is all sweet and shit.
Sally is Beth and Jill and Paul’s friend. She tells Jill Paul is sweet by nature.
Since Jill is an idiot, she now has a crush on Paul too.
Sally thinks the situation is hilarious.
Jill thinks the situation is shitty.
Beth is blissfully ignorant of the big picture.
The end of all logic.
Bow.

I was mopping the water leaking from the roof, then, genius that I am, I stood up and banged my hip against the counter. The result is provided, thus:

Please tell me that will fade same time as the henna ink. It looks redder and a lot more swollen in real life.

The first time I was there I was aching to go home by the third day. But then I was with half the Espinosa kin, and although my youngest tita was all for banana boat rides and all the other touristy ‘adventures’ required of beach expeditions, there also was my mother, her presence circling like a hawk, censoring all forms of fun.

This time I was with my liquor-starved, work-hating, beach-happy bank friends. That’s a great combination of values. We were drinking the first night, in a bar on beanies in the sand. Fun. The second night (ehem, as early as four pm), I refuse to say that I was drunk, but I was definitely mighty dizzy. Kudos to the Mango Margarita and the Barlo Mojito AND the killer Jello Shot. Thanks to the sea for turning the dizziness to a mild buzzing. Apparently night-swimming helps tune down the ‘amats’.

Important disclaimer: swim with friends who can babysit you kindly.

Mark: Angie, I left my glasses on the chair. Guide me, it’s dark I can’t see.

Me: Marky, I don’t think I can guide you very well since I’m really really dizzy.

Marky: Oh no!

Me: Oh look I see three floating dots!

Marky: I only see two floating dots! (Still walking on the sand in the dark, clutching hands really tight and wobbling only slightly)

Me: No, look, three bobbing heads! People we know!

Mark: No, only two… ooh okay I see them now. gaahhh water!!!

Yeah, Dons go EAT that evil Mojito.

It was a fun swim. It’s good to know I still walk straight AND talk sense despite all the body-warming alcohol. As the wise bar tender said, “sayang naman ung bayad sa ininom kung hindi ka malalasing”. hahahaha

Donna puked twice in our toilet on the first night. Then she puked on the sink in the fancy hotel bar on that second afternoon. We stopped drinking after that. It was getting too funny.

WWe spent our more wholesome hours walking the miles-long (certainly felt like it) stretch of sand, buying cheap things that we still haggled unfailingly for. Tin had her hair-braided (it lasted one and a half day) and we got henna tatoos. So touristy, haha.

We people-watched the steady stream of Koreans and Chinese and the assortment of white dudes crowding the beach who looked back curiously too. We had Jonas milkshake and the best waffles in Zuzuni ever, and although everything there was at a 1.4 price index, those three days were a massive food trip that i wouldn’t have wanted to end if i wasn’t running low on funds. I am so over banana boats and island hopping excursions. So i’m glad we traded all that for actual laying down on pillowed benches, with iPods and magazines while waiting for the sunset and with the mighty sea breeze refreshingly cold on our almost-sunburned skin. That, really was the life.

Livin’ the lazy life.

I really shouldn’t have come home yet. I didn’t even get a tan, I’m still my usual pasty self.