If Perez Hilton is having a field day with the now-infamous Ms. California, I wonder how he would react if he saw Willie’s impromptu Q&A with a Ms. Earth candidate last Saturday.
Willie: So paano ba aalagan ang kalikasan?
Ms. Earth: Oh my God!
Willie: Hindi nga, syempre kelangan mo mag-practice. Kunwari ito na. Bilang Ms. Earth candidate paano mo aalagan ang envinroment?
Ms. Earth: Actually I’m not an environmentalist. But, um, ah…reduce, reuse and recycle. Tsaka mag-unplug ng appliances pag hindi ginagamit…
I admit I’m not beauty pageant material and I don’t have credentials to be even just a judge but hey, even I would know that that was a classic example of how you should not answer! Imagine–admitting that you don’t know how to care for the environment! She just lost my (inconsequential) vote. Maybe she was trying to be cute by opting for the honest and candid route but it was an epic failure for me.
Filed under: (mis)adventures
Disclaimer: After you read this post, you will understand me and my nose better. Close na tayo!
You know that life is pretty uneventful when, months after blogging hibernation, you resurface to write about nasal endoscopy.
I’ve felt that my nose has been clogged for quite a while now but my attempts to decongest have resulted only in blowing holes through several pieces of tissue. After being thoroughly frightened by theories that I might be harboring strange growths in my nose or that this might turn into a case of sinusitis that will require surgery, I found myself in the waiting room of the clinic this morning to consult with an ENT.
“Ma’am, bakit kayo andito?” the nurse asked as she took my blood pressure.
“Ay, magpapa-check lang sana ako kasi hindi naman nawala yung sipon ko. Well hindi naman siya sipon na sipon kasi walang lumalabas pag nagbloblow ako ng nose ko.“
“Wala naman kayong cough o colds?”
“Wala naman, basta feeling ko lang talaga na clogged yung nose ko.”
“Gaano katagal na?”
“Since December.” The nurse looked up from the blood pressure thingy and pursed her lips.
“Naku,” she said, nodding her head sagely, “matagal na nga yan.”
I felt slightly alarmed at her nonchalant assessment of my condition. I was hoping for–oh, I don’t know–assurance that it was nothing serious but it was with this grave confirmation that I was led to the doctor’s office. He asked me a series of questions then used a nasal spray on me. I tried my hardest not to laugh but it really tickled! In fairness, it was like inhaling a breath of menthol-infused air and I immediately felt better. Little did he know that he was preparing me for the nasal endoscopy.
The doctor turned his back and when he faced me again he was holding this long, thin instrument with what looked like a tiny light bulb at the end. “So,” he said casually, “I’ll insert this in your nose so we can see inside it and just let me know if you feel pain.”
I threw a panicked look at my dad but he just smiled at me reassuringly and told me to close my eyes. Obediently, I shut my eyes and thought of my happy place while the doctor gently maneuvered that thing inside my nose. I wanted to ask if he could see all the way to my brain but I might laugh and he might get startled and he might poke me and turn the laughter to pain so I wisely kept my mouth shut and thought of rainbows and butterflies and whiskers on kittens.
In fairness, it didn’t hurt. It just felt like..well, it felt like someone was poking something long and thin inside your nose. Or, as I succinctly described it to Nelli, “Parang may ibang taong naki-kulangot sa ilong mo.” Afterwards though, my nose felt a little violated but rejuvenated. Indeed, whenever I inhale, I feel the breath all the way to my soul. Okay, that might be a little over the top but I do feel like I’m breathing the way I’m supposed to. No more strange clogged sensation!
The doctor said that there’s something in my nose that’s misaligned. He asked me, “When you blow your nose, does it feel like it’s on one side only?” I was like, “hey, ang galing! how did you know?!” Apparently, when you rub your nose too vigorously when it’s itchy it causes one side to cave over time and the only way to correct it is through surgery. (Sidenote: so maybe pinching the bridge of a baby’s nose to make it sharp is not a myth after all?)
I have to spray my nose everyday for the next month or so. He also prescribed me a nasal wash and now I feel all important because my nose will be the cleanest and most pampered olfactory organ in the whole world! It’s a wee bit expensive though–so much so that when the cashier told me how much my nasal spray would cost, it was the man beside me who gasped, looked at me in wide-eyed horror and exclaimed, “Ang mahal naman ng gamot mo!”
“Can I go upstairs now?”
My four-year-old niece tugged my hand and looked up at me pleadingly.
I thought it strange that she wanted to go up when all her cousins were in the living room with us. Nevertheless, I took her hand and helped her go up the stairs.
“I wonder where he is,” Stacy said, her eyes bright with excitement as she peeked into the gameroom. There was nobody there since the boys had temporarily traded Guitar Hero for dessert so she pulled me towards the bedroom of one of my nephews.
“Who?” I asked curiously.
“The little boy!” she said, her face falling when she saw that the room was empty.
My hair stood and my heart suddenly beat a little faster. “Um..which little boy?” I asked casually, not wanting to betray the fear I felt. “Javi? Mio?”
“No, not Javi,” she said impatiently. “You know…the little boy!”
I briefly considered leaving her in the middle of the empty room and running downstairs towards the company–and safety!–of other adults but in the end my conscience won out. I prayed that when we entered the next bedroom, she wouldn’t say “hello” and start playing with someone I couldn’t see. Or would it be worse if I could also see her newfound playmate?! :O
*cue “Twilight Zone” theme*
I am not ashamed to admit that Manny Pacquiao and Marky Cielo (apart from Mark Herras) are the only ones who could bring out the fangirl in me. For Manny, I braved the rain and ran in the streets in my then brand-new heels just to see him ride past in one of his homecoming parades. For Marky, I would watch SOP or its reruns on YouTube when I knew he had a dance number because he moves really, really well.
Both my idols had the fight of their lives last Sunday.
One, whom I adore for his natural grace in the boxing ring, fought with the whole world watching and the entire nation alternating between cheering and praying for him. After 8 rounds, his opponent waved the white flag of surrender; he raised his arms in triumph with nary a scar to mar his face as his friends surrounded him and shared in his victory.
The other, whom I admired for his natural grace on the dance floor, fought a private battle in his bedroom. No one knew the trials he faced and struggled with everyday; his scars were hidden deep beneath his smiles and the pranks he pulled on his friends. His fight was abruptly ended after 20 years when he was called to be with his Creator; as the news spread, his friends surrounded him and mourned his loss.
In a small town in General Santos, one’s mother fainted with joy upon hearing the outcome of her son’s fight, which did not even last 12 rounds.
In a village in Antipolo, the other’s mother grieved when she found out early in the morning that her son prematurely lost his fight.
Today, Manny will probably get no rest as he prepares to receive a hero’s welcome from the President in Malacanang.
Today, Marky will be laid to rest in his province. May he be welcomed by angels in the Heaven.
Marky Cielo (May 12, 1988- December 7, 2008)
Would crazed tweens all over the world cast stones at me if I admit that I didn’t like the movie adaptation of “Twilight?” It wasn’t so much the poorly applied make-up–judging by the barely stifled giggles of the audience when Dr. Cullen strode into Bella’s hospital room, I wasn’t the only one who found his espasol look funny. Neither was it the bad special effects, which made Edward look like he had applied a bit too much shimmery lotion when he stepped into the sun rather than magical and otherworldy.
At its core, “Twilight” is a love story between a vampire and a human. It became a hit, particularly among teen girls, not because Edward was a perfect guy vampire but because he loved Bella perfectly. Sadly, the movie fell short in telling this story.
How could she have fallen hopelessly, irrevocably in love with him when he was just plain rude to her? She fell even more in love with him when she found out he was a vampire. Strange girl! The movie failed to show how they formed a relationship, cautiously but surely, as Bella shared him her thoughts in their late-night conversations since he couldn’t read hers.
If I hadn’t read the book, I would have thought that Edward and Bella were particularly angsty teen-angers because they were perpetually scowling or unsmiling even when they were kissing. I wouldn’t have known that the reason Edward’s forehead was always scrunched up was because he couldn’t stand to be near her because her smell aroused his thirst.
My question is…did Bella really fall in love with him? Or was she merely dazzled?
What redeemed the movie for me was its soundtrack. “Supermassive Black Hole” by Muse was the perfect background music for the baseball scene. And when I first heard “Flightless Bird, American Mouth” while they danced in the gazebo, I wanted to text Bonbon at once to ask the title except I was too sleepy and she’s not on Sun (hehe if you’re reading this, peace!).
Filed under: pag-ibig
I still can’t get over the wedding of a 30-year-old actor to a 60-year-old columnist. I was reading the comments on an article covering the controversial news and I couldn’t help but laugh at some of the comments.
“May silbi na ang long running joke title na movie ‘diligan mo ng suka ang tigang na lumpia,’” wrote one Pepster.
Some were hopeful.
“Kaya tayo mga lola wag mawalan pag-asa makabingwit ng bata pag tayo maging 60 yo na…ngayon pa lagn pag iipunan ko na toh!”
Some defended the happy couple’s choice.
“Why naman would it be disturbing? basta wag nyo lang problemahin ang iba, try nyo, you won’t be affected lolz…”
Not a few questioned his motives. Those who scoffed at the groom’s transparent attempt to get a greencard were almost outnumbered by those who deplored his obvious play for her money. Kinder souls said he must have been after companionship only while some commented that this being his second marriage, he must have problems with his affection.
Is it so hard to believe that maybe, just maybe, they married for love?
BABY LAMOK: Mommy, pwede ako manood ng concert? Plz…plz????
MOMMY LAMOK: OK. Pwede anak. Pero…ingat ka sa palakpakan ha. :)
Bentang-benta!! Hehehe!
Filed under: Television
1) the lifelessness of the host; and
2) the beauty of the contestants.
Beauty and sexiness were obviously big, ahem, factors in choosing the contestants!
I was also confused with the concept of the show. In the middle of the stunts, the contestants were told that they were going to practice dancing the tango. It totally had nothing to do with the show and was not even offered as an incentive so what was that all about?! They never even actually showed the contestants dancing except for a really short clip; they only showed interviews of some of the couples after the experience. If the purpose of that whole tango thing was to give the viewers a glimpse into the culture of a foreign country, the whole point was lost in translation. If it was inserted in order to heighten the anticipation for the next stunt, it also failed. When the host announced that after all that dancing they would be having dinner while watching trained dancers perform, I thought the food would be insects, bugs or some exotic food but I was wrong. It was a normal, uneventful dinner.
The thing that bothers me the most is that all of them, while they are undoubtedly gorgeous, lack appeal. They’re just so…boring. When the final task was revealed, they screamed half-heartedly and looked unsurprised by the ‘twist.’ The host, too, was just too deadpan and robotic.
Bottom line? The show sorely lacks X-factor.
Filed under: fashion
I’ve always wanted to own a kick-ass pair of boots.
Last night, my dad and I were people-watching in Eastwood to while away the time when I spotted a girl wearing a long-sleeved black shirt with a light gray above-the-knee skirt and knee-length shiny black boots with some fringe.
“Dad, tignan mo porma niya, type ko,” I said, nudging him so he could see her before she disappeared from sight. He looked at her from head to toe.
His verdict about her style?
“Kulang na lang kabayo.”
POOF! There goes my desire to own a pair (for now)!
