Universe: Earth To Tin!

I had a really weird phonecall from my aunt yesterday. Halfway through the conversation, she desperately insisted that it was high time I get a significant other. It sounded like a matter of life and death, carefully disarming me with thoughts of Ovarain Cancer, cystic tumors and whatnot. Apparently, single females have a high risk of developing life-threatening reproductive system diseases. And I'm on the short-list. It seems like everyone always has something to say about my (nonexistent) lovelife.

The Holiday season brings the most bizarre surprises.

My dear friend Arifah and I contemplated on our scarce prosects and our inability to get a decent find. Here's an excerpt of our conversation:

Me: Maybe he hasn't turned up yet because we aren't ready. That or he could already be married. We're stuck in the waiting room, waiting for fate to get his shit together and give us our own versions of (Johnny) Depp.

Arifah: Hahaha. Yeah, all the good men are either taken or gay... waiting room, waiting for fate to get his freaking shit together. Hahaha..

Everything fits so perfectly with my theory. That I could have been a nun in my past life or one of those Vestal Virgins of Ancient Rome. It explains why I am constantly surrounded with fellow spinsters and why I subliminally repel the opposite gender. Whoopee, mystery solved.

Honestly, its a tad too tiresome to be thinking about these things. Sometmes I do wish I had answers for every thing the universe throws at me on a daily basis. That would be great; so I dont always end up like a deer flashed with headlights at the other end of the conversation. Then again where's the fun in that? I'm greedy. I want my fair share of those bizarre surprises too. So whatever, right? Bring it on?

Final Thoughts on PDA

So Yeng Constantino won. No surprise there. ABSCBN had practically whored (for lack of a better word) her out to the public since Day 1. Although I kinda like her, her spunk, I'm afraid, has been capsized with Sarah Geronimo references. Oh Well. It will make the masa happy. Sad.

Panky didn't make it to the top 3. She came in fourth. All the rabidly fierce female/gay fans of one catatonic contestant voted in like crazy.

I didn't want her there anyway seeing the impending tie-up with the debauchery that is Star Records for her first Album.*Cringe* At least there is hope on being signed with EMI. I'm keeping my fingers crossed. I don't want her talent wasted. Gah, I sound like a rabid fan. Haha.

I secretly wanted her to be in the top3 though. She's far better than the other two who were there. 'Guess that's the truth with Pinoy reality shows, where talent shows are mere popularity beauty contests.

I cant wait however for Panks' first album. It will be a blast, I'm sure. She sounds like a cross between Joss Stone and Fiona Apple. All heart. All soul. I hope the concept rocks.

Here's wishing you luck girl! Idol! Hee.

Panky and Chad ;)

'just so you know, i stole this. Credit to Tinna!

Source: http://supermoo.multiply.com/photos/photo/9/157

Supermassive Black Hole

This isn't a surprise. I'm developing withdrawal syptoms from stalker-ish obsessions yet again. This time around its Pinoy Dream Academy, more poignantly, Panky Trinidad and her amazing talent. She's loud at times-- comes with the size, imo-- but endearing above all. Often misunderstood, she is larger than life-- size, talent, personality and heart. I hope she does conquer the world. She's going beyond borders you know.

The show's drawing to a close tommorow and my mind is drifting. It's automatically speed-dialing SOS for a quick fix. It's never easy with these things. It's like watching your pet cat die from old age. It's chronically sad.

What do I fill in the void now?

Questions. Questions.

Holiday Cheering

It's a week till Christmas. And every bit of holiday-thought has been swirling in my head.
This would have been fine if I werent thinking about the boatload of reading I have to do before Christmas spirit finally seeps into the ticker.

Sigh. Yes, Virginia there will be Christmas.

Amidst all of this, I'm struggling to feel the tide of the sentimental and the drama the season brings.

Who am I kidding? Hee.

Fragment Monster Still

If there's a quick fix to all these alzheimer-ish quirks today, a minor lobotomy is on my shortlist.

Reading hasn't been helping either. Perhaps my brain has turned to mush? I cant seem to transmit any cohesive thought. Somehow, it deadens before any audible word is made. Oh well. Perhaps muteness suits my style?

Fragment Monster

Today is blender-shaker-word day. Or otherwise put, becoming-less-lucid.

What is it with these fits of nuttiness? It's a personality glitch which I spy to be genetic . Nut-- that is ME. No amount of psycho-babble can cure this. I cannot be talked out of this, er, bad habit, of loosely stumbling into every worst possible moment a klutz, like myself, can get into. I have no mold for finesse. That is the incurrable truth. Oh well.

I'm all fragment-monster today. I havent been talking(as in with audible words) too eloquently. It's all-- Uh-huh, Yeah-um, Ahhh, Errr. Whistles and Clicks. I have all my audiences baffled. Great way to create mystery, ey? I tell you there is nothing more sad than being an idiot these days. Everyone around me seem to be sparring off adages and tales of eloquence. They're all freaking achievers! Oh Well.

At least mediocrity hasnt fallen out of fashion, yet. Oh yeah, I still have that stamped on my forehead.

Breathing And Sulking Still

Hello universe!

I cant say I'm fully recovered. Post hibernation and treatment, I seem to be fine. With the way I openly became insanely vague-neurotic b*tch after that muppet broke my insecure little heart, I can now officially say that from here on, it is blatant that I shall be the world's oldest living (breathing and sulking) twenty five year old spinster. Oh well, what's new?

Anyways, I have come to a resolve. From now on, I shall, to fill in the void, so to speak, live vicariously through Brangelina and the chosen ones. Mild obsession(I hope, for my sake) is like the designer drug for that post-epic trauma. It gives you excessive highs--especially when you see TOUCHING in the latest candid/authorized/ staged/ unstaged razzie pics and lows-- wait, what lows? I love this couple, there never seems to be a let-down. It's always happy-happy-joy-joy. OmyGus, I love Hollywood and all its smut.

All this coming from a girl who has a passion for all things Karen-O-ish and has a special soft spot for Kim and Gerald. I amaze myself. It's all fluff from here on out. The gods help me. And just for the record, I've never admitted to class or lack thereof either. So that brings me to that proverbial question? What am I? Hmmm...What, indeed...

I hope I'll be able to at least make intelligent verbal nausea for the days to come. Hmmm... or I could just become like a fragment monster like Ms Jolie herself(although I find it endearing, it makes her soooo human.. Gus, I love her), but I dont think I could carry that too well. I might as well channel inner Carrie and stave off future plans of becoming diety-level. That always seem to be comforting at most.