Say my Name

First day of classes never went without a glitch for me, especially when the dreaded roll call begins. In the 17 years I spent in formal education, I don’t remember one instance that the teachers got it right, my surname that is. Ok, I get it. Udquin is a little uncommon… ok a lot uncommon. I never heard of any Udquin that isn't blood-related to me. But please, how difficult can a two-syllable word be? Name any mutation of my surname and I probably had heard it. I probably might respond to ud-queen, but for heaven’s sake, don’t go adding letters that actually aren’t there just to ease your pain of pronouncing my slightly (ok, overtly) extraordinary surname.

I especially don’t get it when one has the simple task of copying it off an ID or a written form and still messes it up. For my first two years in Ateneo, when PE classes were in the curriculum, I try to buy Loyola School PE shirts. I buy tons not only for the classes, but those things are pretty cheap and are super comfy to sleep on. And every semester, I end up having my receipt issued by this old cashier guy who had bottoms of Coke bottles for glasses, and yes every sem, a very generous somebody named Melissa Joaquin seems to be buying my shirts. Who the farking hell is Melissa Joaquin?!? To this day, two years after graduation, I still haven’t gotten my diploma. Still scared shit that somebody named Melissa Joaquin graduated in ’04 in lieu of me.

I guess there is no escaping it. And since Beb and I have this thing for conventions, I am constantly reminded of the name game I play all my life. But I guess by now, I’m so used to the fiasco, the mutations just become funnier. Like this one for one show we recently attended. Joquin... seriously?

And just today, when I opened up my mail and got this. Three months of waiting for the card to buffer the damage of indulging. And I get this. Oo, pare, this time, I'm Clarissa Odquin. Odquin! Haay, life. Yeah, that's me, alright. Now gimme some cake.

I know i'm getting old when...

... instead of buying that bag i've been salivating over in Celine, that rocking low rise pants that feels like second skin in Giordano, or that very purrrty top from Bayo, here I am going over yearly dividends, dues and maturity periods of indecipherable insurance plans. And I actually feel ok about it.

Wait, i'll process muna.
Ok, i'm ok about it, really.

Gym-rat kunyari.

It's almost mid-month and surprisingly, I haven't thrown any fit, big or small, considering it's the notorius "N" word-month. Beb is attributing it to the fact that I am not trying to deprive myself of arterial-clogging goodies just to make me feel a little better shedding off some unwanted muffin top. He made sure I ate to my heart's delight so he could have a peaceful relationship this month. I agreed. So everybody's happy.

But since shopping is a pain when you're slightly curvy (on all the right places naman, hahaha, whatever), I knew there had to be another way to lose that weight. So good luck to me and my will power, 'cause I just got a fitness first membership, and I pray to the heavens that I don't cop out 'cause somebody just plunked down some serious change for my three-month passport. Seryoso na ako. Promise.

*** Note to all my beloved friends: If you get a call from fitness first, super sorry. I wanted the free kit that came in exchange for referrals, hehehe, but heck, they're giving out free trials so di ba? Samahan nyo ko one of these days, please? RP's the place to be. Nyek.

Neck-deep

Oo na, sige na.
I'm being reeled in.
A Japanese dinner at Omakase to send off Nikki, the bride, this being her last dinner as a single with her cousins, and a cheesecake galore dessert at Eastwood to welcome Missy, the Aussie-based cousin who still nurses a jetlag, with matching comment, "Anong oras ba nagsasara mall dito? Sa Australia ala-singko pa lang sarado na to. Niaantok na ako". Ang kulit. Hehehe.

Missy, Pol, Ari, Trish, Raf, Jamie, Me and Beb

And now, for my next trick...

Whoever said that you can't feel pain in your dreams is totally out of the loop, cause apparently you can, or at least i do.

For a week now, I've been having these dreams that i can bend my wrist all the way, so much so that i can touch the back of my forearms. I don't have any plans of running away to join the circus, so my contortionist wannabe dreams are very puzzling. The thing is, i wake up in the middle of my joint-twisting act because of the pain, with me actually seeing that I am doing it. I actually am bending my farking wrist!

Now it hurts like hell, taking a bath with the tabo is a chore. I am now a leftee bather which is no fun cause the water isn't pouring where it should be pouring. Yeah, oversharing, but it's frustrating. Yesterday, when lifting a few shopping bags i actually popped something, and now my right wrist makes weird sounds when i rotate it. It's scary and entertaining at the same time. Who knew, pwede pala akong pang banda rito banda roon, armed with my musical popping wrist. Take that armpit squishers!

Amateur rockstar dreams aside, the wrist bending dreams is driving me nuts. I've tried putting weights on my hand to make it not move in my sleep, but no, the dreams still come. This freaks me out because if i can contort wrists in my sleep and actually do it, what the heck else can i do? I don't wanna murder somebody in my dreams, then wake up realizing I actually did hack somebody (Which in that case, can I claim temporary insanity? Will I get acquitted? Hmm, seem like a nice pla... never mind). It's so very shake-rattle-and-roll. I'm like a walking Regal thriller. Ayayay, so scary...

Midwest Midterm Midtacular

(Stewart/Colbert '08. Hahaha.)

Ganito kadami ang Pilipino sa Amerika.
Kailangan talaga ng translation.
Seryoso. No photoshop-ing necessary.
Lupet.

World domination na ito.

Snarky sneaky sunday.

Beb and I sunday morning...

*phone rings*
Beb: Wake up. Get dressed.
Me: Whu... Ano meron? Antok pa ako.
Beb: Lunch at Lolo's and lola's.
Me: *suddenly awakened by shock and fear* What?!? Bat ngayon mo lang sinabi?
Beb: Para di ka na makatanggi.

Damn, i've been in this relationship for too long. He already knows my habits. Though it took him this long to know that my game gets thrown through pure shock value. Sneaky, sneaky.

Me: Uhm, do i have a choice?

*A million excuses started to trickle and process in my equally sneaky mind.*

Beb: No. You're expected.

*cue twilight zone soundtrack...

Me: *in my mind* Whaaahhhh!!!!

*** postscript:
The lunch with the Peralejos went well, despite the bed weather. Jr's lola is as always warm, and seems genuinely interested with what I do for a living. I met his Tita Carrie, who's based in the states, one of only two left that I haven't met before. Her salad was great, so was the kare-kare his Japanese Tita Rissa made, equally delish. Peter Pan peanut butter seems to be the secret. Beb dozed off after filling up, as seen on the very Don Jose Raul-like, telenovela-esque kodak moment on the left. They talked of weddings, since three of his cousins are marrying within a year's time, a topic I managed to avoid by just putting on a smile when asked when JR and I's "long table" will be. Nope, let's altogether not hold our breath. And Pauline hogged my Ipod. Grey's Anatomy addicts, unite! Hehehe.

The Chase

I am that kid who regularly goes by the toy store window display to see the shiniest, cutest toy they have. I occasionally touch the toy with pure awe, play with it as long as i can and i'm allowed to, then sets it down for the day when i've gotten my fix. Then I walk away, say to myself, til the next time i pass by. With each time i go by, it was like teasing myself over and over again. Each time I glance its way, I wish this was the day i could take it home.

Then one day, with time and enough courage, my wish comes true. I take it by hand, admiring every inch, grasping the idea that what i had wanted for a long time was now mine. But just like every newest, shiniest toy i get, the moment i knew i had it, the longing is over. And it will sit there, like the toys that came before it, forgotten. The craving turns to the new, shiny toy that took its place on the toy store window display.

I'm afraid I will not grow out of that kid. Just the same, i'm afraid to grow up.
Giving up the chase is as difficult as giving in.

p.s. This post is not about my new toys.
As much as i love my ipod and my ixus
(now christened as I1 and I2), they are
trivial pursuits. We're talking about
epics here, people. Epic --- google it.

Watch my Mood Swing

Tingnan mo nga naman. November na naman.
Oh well. Good luck to anyone within my 5 mile radius.
Don't tell me I didn't warn you.