Last Sunday, my Tita brought us to a mall in Mandaluyong to shop for shoes and clothes. Seeing I only had Php 1,500 cash in my pocket, the quest was more than improbable. This Reubenesque girth and this Amazonian height to find something in a shop for Barbie dolls with cash to throw about? Nuh-uh. Don’t think so. Cash-strapped times such as this calls for practicality --- and good fashion sense. So what if most of my clothes are from SM? I mix and match ‘em, and there you go! My personal style. Have you ever seen that TV show on the Lifestyle Channel, Look for Less? That’s my motto. Every designer look out there has got a practical counterpart. I don’t need mucho dinero, I just need a lot of good sense. So went to SM afterwards. Needed to buy groceries anyway, the convenience of a department store and a hypermarket is just way too useful to be ignored. Generation All-In-One 3-in-1 coffee, pour-hot-water-and-eat noodle soup, cellphones you use as radios, computers and cameras besides… j...
Stephen vs. Stephenie, the fight is onnnnn! :) Guess whose side I'm on? I just read this in yahoo mail and I had to IMMEDIATELY blog about it out of pure joy that all the faults I found wasn't just in my head. Somebody else who has more authority to speak about it, agrees. Meyer sucks. She just purely does. She was saved by finding a really great story, one she didn't do much justice, but girls will read anything with a hot dude in it. We are not all Stephen King fans, but I respect this dude (botoxed face and all) coz he writes. And even if his stories are creepy, he writes them well. I don't always like what he writes about (i.e. What's up with that The Girl Who Loved Tom Gordon, huh?), but at least he tells it well. And for those who say, well, Meyer's an amateur, get this: writing Twilight makes her an amateur. Did we see improvement in the next books though? At all? No. It even got worse. One word: Renesmee. But I've said all this before. Let me just qu...
Lately, I have been hinting heavily at my boyfriend that I would “appreciate” receiving a love letter. He’s been spot-on so far --- big boxes of chocolates, scouring shops and shelling out the bucks for my “craving of the month” munchies, flowers in vases and fluffy stuff to clutter my bed with. Everything except the Letter. See, some girls dream of breathtakingly expensive proposals, some of big fabulous weddings, and some fantasize of babies in a twin carriage. But ever since I was young, I only had one romantic notion and that is to receive one heck of a searingly honest, non-sappy, ultra-passionate love letter. The kind of letter that bares the soul and seals in ink the reasons and unreasons of Love --- so real it makes all other literature pale in comparison. I guess on the off-hand, it sounds like a tall order. I can imagine litgeeks balking at this request. And my guy, who like my sister believes that reading and writing are things you suffer through only for a perfectly iron-cl...
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