STORIES, STORIES

She wears my sunglasses at night. ~ I did it. I survived two months. Congratulations me.

Last week (or was it two weeks ago?), the Pegasus Expansion for the BSG board game arrived. But we didn't get to play it until tonight. King Abdullah, al7amdulillah 3la salamah, we played for you today. (How did you guys spend your nice little impromptu holiday?) Anyhoo, the game is BEYOND AWESOME. It's like 2 or 3 layers of betrayal and suspicion put together, where cylons can betray other cylons. Click here  to watch the trailer for the BSG game. The unboxing. Appropriately with a "razor". This photo taken by Souma . And these photos, too, since I was too busy being excited about the new game to take pictures. That's me and... Helena Cain. Also known as me. Notice the crazy eyes. Although it's not fun to play Cain when Adama isn't one of the other characters. Oops, spoiler alert. (Because you care, y3ni.) Photo taken by Ghaida'a . I did take one photo that night. This one.  So we are starting a legit community. Does anyone know anyone in...

The thing about going to the gym is that you think everyone's checking you out, or talking about you, when the truth is, everyone's too busy thinking everyone's checking THEM out. The best way to deal with this is to just think you're a huge celebrity: whether or not people are talking about you shouldn't matter anymore because you're so used to it.  Changing rooms at the gym: the hub of female scrutiny, where confidence is built or broken. Funny enough, I feel more comfortable in a mixed gym than in a ladies-only one. There is less scrutiny. Or maybe there is MORE scrutiny, but it's more expected. If that makes sense.  Going to the gym needs a lot more than just paying for the membership (and then regretting it). It takes a lot of hard work, dedication, motivation and planning. You have to think of your goals. There are 2 excellent goals you can set when you go to the gym. 1) To become healthy. I've said this before about psychologizing yourself whe...

I co-own an Emily electric guitar with my good friend Dee . We take turns every weekend. Maybe one day, I'll be mature enough to fully own one. For now, I'm enjoying the joint custody. I've only ever owned and played acoustic guitars, so I'm still learning how to play it. It's a whole new, different ball game. Here are my cousins trying the Emily out. Emily the Strange. No, that's not a karaoke microphone in the back. Ahem. And this is my dad playing The Doors.

Chili's is one of those words that when you say it over and over again, it stops making sense and you start wondering if you're saying it right. You even begin to suspect you spelled it wrong, or that the word itself does not exist. All words are like that, in fact. I read somewhere (most probably from Freakonomics, but it could be from Futurismic or Boing Boing, I can't be sure) that this phenomenon occurs because when you repeat words over and over, it loses its function. For instance, when you are calling out someone's name, the function is to get that person's attention. But when you're just saying it to yourself for no reason, that's when it becomes strange. Yeah, I'm so Fringe Division like that. *krump* So let's put some function behind this.  I'm not exactly a big fan of Chili's. In fact, I don't like any of their dishes, except for maybe one or two that Sharifa and I keep ordering when we're there. Chili's is like the...

For someone with such a bad memory, I certainly can't forget you.

I ROFL-ed at this. It's only hilarious because 80% of the time, I'm that foul-mouthed teacher. (Minus the car-wash part. I'll only start doing that next year. WATCH THIS SPACE!) " Okay, shitbags. Entertain me. " - True Story.

I looked at the title of this post and I read it as "kam-poot". I, of course, meant camp-out. Ah, the wicked ways of the dash. This is a continuation of the previous post. Below is a photo of the Tug of War that we lost. In retrospect, maybe we lost because instead of helping out my ilk, I stood there taking pictures. Hmm. Here's why I don't enjoy the outdoors: food preparation. It's way too much work, even though I very rarely help out. Very rarely meaning Never. Just looking at people fuss over food tires me out. And then there's the cleaning up part. *shiver* So what is it with boys and this fascination with fire? It apparently doesn't matter how old a boy gets. They're drawn to it, like moths. Like how I'm helplessly drawn to James Franco. By sunset, everyone was chilling. By the sea, by the jetty, by the tents. These things made us want to jump on them and train for the Chinese army, Mulan-style. Never mind the fact that none of ...

Last weekend, I crashed a camping trip in Obhur. It was at an abandoned site. Here's a row of rundown cabins on the resort right next door. It's moments like these that I appreciate my zoom lens. (Most of the time, not so much.) These things have been sitting here for the last 20 years or so. At least that's what I heard. (Or made up in my head, whatever.) Thank god the boys took care of all the setting-up-camp and tents. I didn't even have to pretend to help. Instead, I walked around with Summer and Dully and looked for abandoned crap. Paw prints in daylight! (As opposed to flashlit ones .) And then everyone decides to play a game of Tug of War. "Elders" vs the young people. Guess who won? YEP. The Elders won. Our generation FAILS!! (Of course, I immediately categorized myself under "YOUNG PEOPLE" because I am... young.) .. to be continued.

"It's only the illusion  of a voice. People write all kinds of comments on news sites and blogs, but it's only a voice if someone listens." - Songs of Triumphant Love by Jessica Duchen Feet. They're the new bewbs. So yeah. I finished Book 4 of this year's I-Will-Only-Buy-A-Kindle-If-I-Read-At-Least-50-Of-My-Books Challenge. This one wasn't as difficult to read as the last book; in fact, it requires very minimal brain activity. It's not as cheesy as the cover suggests, but it's also not very... shall we say, substantial? It reads like one of those indie films that have bursts of 2-second genius, nothing more.  This novel is about an opera singer in her 40s or 50s (I forget) who is struggling with a fading voice and her personal life, her relationship with her lover and her daughter, and some bits about Bosnia where her lover is from. I liked the parts where the opera was described, and the history of Bosnia, but other than that, it was all fluff...

I was just watching Fringe, and there was this part where SPOILER ALERT everyone thought Olivia Dunham was crazy (as usual) because she kept insisting that she was not THE Olivia Dunham, she was the OTHER Olivia Dunham. As can only happen in TV shows, there was one stranger, a cab driver, who didn't think she was crazy. It wasn't that he believed her, it was that he thought that it would take only one person who has faith in you to help you sort whatever shit you're in. And he was willing to be that person. We all do and say things that are completely out of character at some point in our lives. I do believe that we all learn from our experiences, and we get to know who our true friends are, and who truly loves us, when we go through that phase. It is the people who stand by us at our worst. The people who know when we are out of character, and when we are not. They are the ones who also deserve our best.  One thousand calories worth of love.

One thing I've taken for granted (among many, many other things, really) is the fact that my friends take care of me when I'm a complete mess. There's not a lot of things that devastate me, but when something does, I'm pretty much unable to do anything. Because there's nothing I want more than to fix everything and make things alright RIGHT NOW, I'm thankful for the small things that my friends do for me that I would've never thought I needed. It's the small things that whip me back in shape so I may fix what can  be fixed, and accept what can't be. One of those small things? A day away from my laptop. You don't like feet shots? Shame. I have more where these came from. Our healthy sandwiches, courtesy of Sharifa . It's alarming the amount of NOTHING TO EAT when you want to start eating healthy. What do you do without cheese, mayonnaise and processed food? My Pinoy hat. Actually, it's Sharifa and Helmy's sombrero, but I claimed...

A few days ago, we all had a birthday dinner for Sharifa's mom , one of the sweetest people I've ever known. Every time she sees me, without fail, she gives me a hug and she asks: "Can I adopt you?", which is funny because I have adopted myself unto them, considering how often I'm at their place.  You see this bag and you KNOW it's hers. I spy with my right eye.. ONE photographer ! Even though I promised myself I would stop going to Friday's, I found myself here again.  Strawberries! I spy with my left eye... TWO photographer ! Happy birthday! I wish you all the good things you deserve, always. <3

What (else) do men and boys have in common? THEY'RE ALL SHOW-OFFS. Especially at the beach. How to get guys on jetskis in Obhur to show off for you so you can take pictures and post them on your blog: 1. Be a girl. 2. Walk out on the jetty till the very end. 3. Stand there until they notice there is a girl on the jetty, after which showing-off quickly commences. 4. Take out camera and shoot. This one, I wasn't so sure if there was some showing off involved, but there definitely was competition. A bunch of school kids came to the beach and they had this relay race of sorts. And my favorite; this guy was DEFINITELY showing off. I'm sure of it. Like, WHO DOES THIS AWESOME SPORT IN REAL LIFE, SERIOUSLY? Yes, I look at men at the beach and then take pictures of them. Problem, jellyfags?