Super skirt

I wasn't too happy that I was unable to sew anything during the last two weeks. I wanted to sew, but somehow, I was never inspired, I felt that there was always something else to do. The wait ended today. I finally sew something--a skirt, not just any skirt, but a super skirt, a skirt that I would love to wear again and again and again.

I'm exhausted.

Of boys and bikes

dolly

I can totally relate, more than anyone could ever imagine.

Miss Personality

Slipping in the bus to work

There are two types of seat covers in buses, at least the buses that I ride to work everyday. One type is vinyl, and the other is fabric. I don't prefer one over the other, I never had a reason to choose between the two--until today.

I found myself slipping, literally slipping off the seat. I did not have new pants, it was the same pants I wore many times in the past while seated in vinyl covered seats. The seat was not wet. And yes, the person sitting beside me was NOT pushing me off my seat!

It reminded me of the seats near the MRT doors. I never understood why they make it that way. Everyone that I have talked to about this agreed with me, it is impossible to sit still on those diagonal benches. I think even Spiderman would have trouble staying put.

I survived, clearly. But as a result, I was enlightened. I now know that as far as bus seat covers go, fabric is better than vinyl.

bababa ba?

I told my colleague, Siew Leng the "bababa ba? bababa" story and she was very amused, I also told her that I refer to the scissor rice stalls as point point, which is a direct translation of turo turo in Tagalog. From then on, I would tell her random words, usually those that are repeated like, you guessed it, turo turo. She is a fast learner and I am sure it would only be a matter of time until she is fluent. Oh, I did warn her about using the words! I am a responsible teacher!

T: are you ready for another cute word?

SL: any time!

SL: yday was bobo (I told her that it translated to "moron")

T: ULUL

SL: ul ul ??

T: ohh lool

T: it means crazy beyond belief

T: or MAD

T: ulul is also sometimes used for "no way! are you serious?"

SL: haha... ulul??!

T: you got it!!!

T: :)

T: hahahaha

SL: luckily i m not bobo....:P

No hair? Yes way!

I have no eyelashes.

Okay, maybe I do, but I swear I have less than fifteen per eye. And they are not exactly the Rapunzels of eyelashes.

Whenever I have my makeup professionally done, without miss, I can see the dismay on the stylist's face when it is time to put on the mascara. I have heard comments such as "oh my! what happened?" to "that's weird". It doesn't upset me, I am in fact amused by the different ways they express distaste.

It is not at all rare that the stylist decides to stick some fake eyelashes on my eyelids. I am not particularly fond of it, in fact it is quite irritating and uncomfortable. As much as I despise the wispy things, I let the stylists do their thing, I can always bitch about the discomfort at the after party, over drinks.

What I especially do not like about fake eyelashes is that, well, they are fake. I feel like a poser. I don't know why I don't see these as enhancers like foundation or lip tint.

I am definite that it is not the feminist in me that hates these eyelashes, that would be totally wrong, as I am all for killer heels. It is something else. It is something from within that just insists on rejecting them--like alien cells.

The last time I had my make up done, it was for a friend's wedding, the stylist glued fake eyelashes on me, one by one, not unlike planting rice, or maybe, hair transplant. He said that these lashes would last for a month and I should enjoy them.

That night, after taking a bath, I got my super tweezers and started pulling out the intruder lashes. I think I might have pulled some of my own, which really did not help me because of their already depleting population. I did not care.

I'm sure that I have more stylists to face and falsies to take out. I'm ready. Bring it on!

Good Morning Towel

I found out from a colleague that the Good Morning towel is not only popular in the Philippines but also in Singapore, Malaysia, China and Indonesia. We have more things in common that I initially thought.

Track Pants Thursday

Last Thursday, I wore track pants at work.

Until now, I can't quite figure out how I was able to get over such a traumatic situation--without therapy.

It was raining very hard when I left the house for work. As my slacks slightly touched the ground, it little by little absorbed rain water until eventually, it was drenched all the way to the thigh area. Luckily (there is irony there), I brought gym clothes with me. As soon as I got to the office I changed pants. I tried to dry my pants out using the hand dryer but it took too much time. I thought that maybe it would get dry by itself. I was wrong. I ended up wearing track pants the whole day.

I hope there is something good other than my not catching a cold to end this entry, there isn't.

Reminiscence of STUPID GIRL

I was free the whole of Sunday so I decided to head to the salon to get a haircut. I was feeling pretty good about it when I left the place.

As expected, my feelings changed after I washed my hair. As I do not blow my hair dry (I never owned a hairdryer which is only fitting as I don't know any other way to use it but as a weapon for Totally Spies role playing), I knew then what was in store for me the next few weeks.

I told HIM how I felt and he said that he is sure that I looked great and that I ALWAYS say that I don't like my haircut.

It has been two days and I suddenly realized that my haircut is super cool--if I was living in the nineties, when Shirley Manson (and her haircut) was hot and my (then) Motorola MicroTac was, the phone to have.

MAKE UP your mind

A guy friend is traveling and had been more than nice agreeing to get me some make up. He said he that I should give him all the details as his good judgment won't be of any use for matters concerning girly stuff.

As discussed, I wrote everything neatly on a post it so he could just give it to the salesperson. End of story. At least I thought. At least he thought.

The night before his trip I called him to say that for the powder, he should get the shade lighter and that he should swap the preference order for the lipstick. End of story. At least I thought. At least he thought.

He was at the shop when he called to say that for the powder, the store was out of the lighter shade and for the lipstick they only have my second option. I told him to get the lipstick and forget about the powder. I thanked him. End of story. At least I thought. At least he thought.

Today. I realized I don't mind getting the shade of the powder I had listed down in the first place. I sent him an sms. He says he will get it when he goes back to the store. I thank him for his patience. He will get the powder. I will thank him. End of story.

Death by denim

I bought denim cloth to make into a dress to match the sandals that I got over the weekend. As I am still yet to learn how to sew zippers, I ended up making a dress that is both hard to put on and take off. Do not judge just yet, the beauty of it of course, is that once it is on you, it is as comfortable as you can imagine.

During the “final fitting” I found that it was still a bit loose on the sides so I put a few pins on each side to mark how much tighter it should be.

As I was slipping the dress off, I realized that I was losing my balance so I knelt on the floor and continued to tug on the dress. At this point I could not see anything because the lower part of the dress was over my face. As I wiggled to slide the dress over the chest and shoulder areas, I grabbed a handful of cloth and pulled, I caught one of the pins and ended up poking my hand—hard! It was very painful and dizzying. Not to mention that my arms were already feeling the strain from being stuck up my head for some time.

I closed my eyes and focused. I look a deep breath and put my whole mind, heart and body into getting the dress off. And I did but not without scratching my arm first!

I swear that one centimeter less, it would have been, death by cheap pins on a partially finished denim dress.

Sunday special

I woke up hungry and decided to fry an egg and some bacon for breakfast. When I broke the egg into the hot pan, I couldn't help but smile, two yolks were staring back at me.

Polka your top out

I made the top that I am wearing :)

wrapper of the year

I found out today that the best sandwich artist for Subway is assigned to the Anchorpoint Branch. She not only meticulously lines up all the meat and veggies in the sandwich, she also wraps the sandwich differently. With the extra flaps on both sides of paper after the sandwich is rolled, she slips one over the other and locks it with the adjacent flap, not very much different from the pattern for envelops. Who cares if she spends 5 minutes making a sandwich, it makes you feel like you paid should pay more than $6 for it.