Where are the pitchforks?

I was listening to the Billboard hits recently and came across Shontelle’s song called T-shirt (I’m not sure if there’s more to the title than that, I can’t remember). So basically the chorus goes,

Imma step out of this lingerie
(url up in a ball with something Hanes
In that I lay, with nothing but your t-shirt on
Oh, with nothing but your t-shirt on
(for reference, listen to the song.)

(On a really weird sidenote, that is not a typo, there really is an opening parenthesis in the beginning of the second line to replace the letter C. For some really odd reason, WP refuses to post my entry if I throw in that word. It took me ages to figure out which word WP found offensive. It seems to have something against it, or posting accurate lyrics. Eh?)

Don’t get me wrong, I do like the melody and whatnot but whilst listening to it Katy Perry’s songs I Kissed a Girl and Ur so Gay suddenly came to mind. I remember her being accused of being sexist and selling on the whole girl-on-girl thing that everyone seems to find so attractive. There was even this online article (I read this back when both songs were still in the charts -are they still?- and yes, I still remember it. My mind stores utterly useless things like these and no, I will not bother to search for it again and provide a link. DIY!) wherein the author said that to see if something is racist, all you have to do is put it through an acid test - simply replace the term being protested with another minority and see if it holds up, say:

“I kissed a boy and I liked it, the taste of his cherry Chapstick” (oh, to laugh) or even, “Ur so Corean and you’re not even Corean.”

(Aufenthalt! Before you try to hunt me down to throw rabbit poop at me for using those specific words, let me say that these were from the article. Like, I mentioned, I retain an astonishing amount of useless information. It’s a mystery how I continuously failed Algebra.)

(Not to mention Physics.)

(Seriously, do not mention Physics to me.)

Anyhoo, I’m wondering where all the protesters are and why aren’t they pelting Shontelle with used feminine hygeine products? Imagine, if you will, replacing the offensive variable (in this case Shontelle) with 50 Cent singing rather sexily,

Imma step out of this lingerie
(url up in a ball with something Hanes
In that I lay, with nothing but your t-shirt on
Oh, with nothing but your t-shirt on

Yes, do imagine. Gives you the giggles and at the same time, a nasty case of goosebumps.

Popularity: 1% [?]

Cheers to another year, everyone.

Popularity: 8% [?]

Poetry in pictures

As evil as they are, I’ve decided to start a photo meme. I’m not sure if this has been done before since I’m too lazy to look around.

Take a picture of one of your favorite poems, quotes or any literature. Don’t just copy and paste it in an entry like it’s usually done. Be creative (yes, I know mine wasn’t). If possible, leave a link in this page so we can see everyone’s pictures. Post as many as you want, whenever you fancy. :)

Popularity: 7% [?]

It’s funny how the smallest things bring memories to mind.

I was listing five things I love at ED and as I typed the fifth (sleeping on the shore), I remembered exactly how it felt. I remember lying on my back, looking up at the moon at three in the morning and falling asleep with nothing but my clothes and a flashlight. I remember waking up to the feeling of grains of sand stuck to my cheek as I shook more out of my hair, the smell of the sea and the sound of people sleepily making their way to the shore, laying out blankets to watch the sun rise.

There’s a painful tug in my chest whenever this memory comes to mind. When I think about it now I think of how foolish it was to fall asleep in the middle of the beach alone and far from help. But I’d do it again in a heartbeat. That was the only time in my life when I felt such pure contentment from solitude.

Popularity: 9% [?]

My dad raised his champagne glass and said,

“To my family. To the best family in the world.”

We may be biased, but I hope you can say the same. Merry Christmas to one and all. :)

Popularity: 10% [?]

Where nasty is in the genes

One of the best pranks ever played on me was when I was six years old. And when I say best it wasn’t because it was meticulously planned or it was so elaborately executed and required the death of a thousand slaves ensuring that it would be in the books for centuries. No, it was one of the best because #1, it was a drawn out wait of torture and anticipation and #2, it was done to a child (in this case, me). I didn’t appreciate it then, but now I appreciate it for what is was (and remember, it’s a vicious cycle).

When I was young (eff this phrase!) Christmas was a huge celebration in our household. With five kids, how could it not be? We’d usher the season into the household early by hauling out the barrels labeled Christmas in bold letters and decorate the crap out of the house. I don’t remember this bit but my sister swears that dad even used to have a fresh pine tree flown in every year, which I think is terrible. I remember that story about the little pine tree who eventually died. But I digress (as usual).

So. One morning I came toddling down the stairs (hah! I laughed immediately after I typed that. Even I can’t imagine a small me toddling. Toddling, really. More like sneaking. Or slithering.) and as I zoomed towards breakfast the Christmas tree area caught my eye. I stopped dead in my tracks and stared.

There was a huge, gaily wrapped box smack dab in front of the tree. And when I say huge, I mean huge. I wasn’t exactly one of those tiny six year olds, mind you, I was already turning into a praying mantis on spindly legs at that age. It was so big I couldn’t even wrap my arms around it (and believe me, I tried). I circled the present like a wolf with a particularly tasty infant in sight and  I examined every surface, not knowing who the gift was from and more importantly, who the gift was for. There was no card attached to it. All the gifts did except for this one.

I remember looking around to make sure that no one had seen me poring over the huge gift (did I mention huge?) and so I sauntered (hah!) into breakfast, cool as a six year old cucumber could be (wait. wtf. Okay nevermind, you know what I mean). I waited to see if someone would mention the gift. Surely I wasn’t the only one who noticed it. But after a whole breakfast of everyone talking about everything else but the gift, I couldn’t help but bring it up. What, they all said, there’s a huge gift adressed to no one? I don’t know anything about that!

Now back then I was still gullible and still had some of that pesky child-like trust in elders so I totally took their word for it (like, totally). Time and experience eventually taught me better though and now I have beaten them in their own game numerous times. Hah! But that’s another heart-warming story for another day.

For a month and a half I’d run down every chance I got and scrutinize the gift. With the same self-importance every child has (every child does have that, right? Or is this yet another thing that made me such a charming git?), I came to the conclusion that it was for me. No name, huge gift, hence mine. Made sense to me. Mine, mine, mine. When no one was watching I’d try to heft it but like I said, it was too big for my arms to go around it. I tilted it this way and that, surprised to find out that it was very light. I nearly drove myself crazy trying to guess what was in it. I can’t remember what sort of guesses I made. (As usual my awesome mind has retained its ability to tenaciously cling to idiotic details and forget the more interesting ones. Just like a leech to a stone.)

So, Christmas finally came and I was absolutely ready to claim my birthright. I impatiently opened all my presents and spent the required amount of time to ohh and ahh over them, as well as everybody elses’ gifts. Finally, there was only that huge gift sitting unopened. I looked to my parents, who grinned at me and told me to go ahead and open it.

I knew it! I crowed and after doing a praying mantis victory dance scuttled over to the box and started ripping the wrapping apart to reveal a huge cardboard box. I ripped that one open too and found a lot of paper strips. I started grabbing fistfuls of it and throwing it over my shoulder, grabbing and throwing, grabbing and throwing… Until I finally got to the bottom of the box only to reveal…

A small A&W bear magnet.

I emerged from the box with the magnet in my palm, a crushed look on my face. The family (yes, ALL of them) promptly burst into hysterical laughter. The next five to seven minutes were then spent laughing at my expense as they all took turns to remind me of how excited I was and how I practically nursed the damn gift every morning. I was not amused.

Finally, though, the parents remembered that this was how child emancipation began and immediately handed over a relatively smaller wrapped box. Being the brat that I was, I was reluctant to open it since it seemed so paltry compared to the huge box I had drooled over for the past month. But I unwrapped it to find a 100-piece Crayola set, which effectively nullified the prank in my eyes.

The family needled me about the prank for a few more weeks, even leaving the damn box as a daily taunt. And so every time I think of Christmas presents I can’t help but think that the people around me are watching, waiting evilly for the fun to begin. But that’s just paranoia, right?

Right?

Popularity: 13% [?]

I wish I could call the cops

Somewhere in the neighborhood (I can’t exactly pinpoint where) there is a group of women screaming along to the song “I Will Survive.” Screaming. Not singing, no, god forbid they try that.

I am left here with blood dribbling out of my ears wondering if they all got dumped recently.

(I hope they did.)

Popularity: 8% [?]

I got your holiday cheer right here

Last year I absolutely hated the holidays. I waded through each day’s pile of dog doo (metaphorically speaking, of course. Were it literal you’d have heard reports of street dog deaths all over Manila as I slashed my way through them for defiling my shoes) wishing that Christmas was over and February would begin (yes, I know there’s a month in between, but that one’s second to Christmas in the scale of stress-inducing). I shopped for presents on the 24th and had them all wrapped at the stores I bought them in, which I absolutely abhorred (I like wrapping gifts myself). I was angry of the fact that my work took up so much of my time.

This year I’m making a conscious effort not to blame the season (but it’s so convenient!, my inner child wails) but the universe seems to be against me on this one. Ugh! Let me tell you - don’t ever consider a job in retail if you even remotely like holidays. Retail will blitz every warm and fuzzy feeling you will ever have for them. /shakes fist

I had a sort of grim determination as I muscled my way through the sea of mallgoers as I shopped for friends and family. Nothing was going to stop me, not even the baby that was somehow maneuvering its stroller to crush my foot. The music that usually starts when two armies (they may be armies of humans, trees, elves or trout, it doesn’t matter, the music they play is all the same at that specific bit) play in my head whenever I forge my way through a mall.

The one joy I’m determined to have is that I’m going to wrap my own gifts this year even if it kills me, damnit! Feel the holiday cheer!

I’m typing this while scarfing down chocolates to off-set yet another low blood pressure attack. And here comes the vice president of ops down the escalator mouthing “15 million” which is our daily target till the 24th.

I will think of the very pretty ribbons I bought so as to distract myself from self-defeatist thoughts (hey, I never said I wasn’t shallow, shiny is good).

Popularity: 13% [?]