They shot the wrong A q u i n o

If I hear any more of her high-pitched squawk drawling out taglines of her stupid game shows and drawling out insluts to the unwitting contestants ("bakit puro pimples ang face mo? hindi ka ba gumagamit ng facial wash?"), and if I have to hear any more news about her V.D. and her sex life with her boy toy of the godforsaken Star margarine ads and impending plans to add to her ultimately condemned spawn and her exploits with her equally blunt friend endorsing diet pills and whitening products, and if I ever ever EVER have to endure another movie (for the sake of studying pop culture) that basically showcases the vast varieties of fear and constipation that she can contort her facial muscles into, then I swear I will shoot her myself.

There is no concrete and rational explanation why I detest abhor and hate K r i s A q u i n o with every fiber of my being except that if I had it my way, and I had to choose between a really emaciated but brilliant politician come-from-exile with plans of saving the country from political tyranny wearing really tight white fancypants, as opposed to his really dumb-blonde type daughter (and to think she's actually intelligent) come-from-a-really-cute-button-nosed-mucus-infested nine year old who cried all the time while campaigning for daddy dear with plans of suctioning all the advertising money from the industry and using it to pay for the suctioning of her body fat and all the evil bile that accumulates in her being, I would go with the tight white fancypants, no question.

So as you watch the mind-numbing glorification of the chinese mestiza clan member that somehow got whacked in her upbringing, I leave you with this thought. If she was walking down an airplane's foldable staircase, and she got shot, and her stupid pretty little face smashes onto the concrete during impact, would you really really (really really. ask yourself.) miss her? If you do feel you'll miss her then think of it this way. We'll have a grand funeral procession for her complete with shredded strips of pink crepe paper thrown from the buildings and the nation can cry and weep and have all the Star margarine and diet pills they want and endure all those tribute videos on Doo Doo buddy b o y a b u n d a' s show, then! then!! we'll all MOVE ON and FORGET.

just like we did with her daddy.

and the winner of a vat of alcohol is....

darling rocker ex! Specifically, his band named after boiled chicken embryos.

at the m u z i k l a b a n this year. Their monumental break into the music industry. Amid pledges of bringing into the mainstream "ang tunog ng norte" i.e. bageeyow city, here i have to ask. tunog ng norte/ baguio? Is that the sound of the slow, painfully drawn out death of the atmosphere, and the little sizzle sizzle of the rising temperature in Baguio due to pollution and overpopulation? The sound of gongs and swishing ethnic G-strings? Or is their brand of emo-rock the all encompassing sound of the summer capital of the pilipens? Dunno. We'll see though, once they release an album. And a video, at which point I shall tune out and crawl into my little ex-girlfriend hole.

i hear they won a hundred crates of R e d H o r s e B e e r and are funneling the booze through thick plastic tubes to their friends back home in Baguio. Proof of which is that I just got a YM message from one of the band's very kooky, and decidedly drunk friends rejoicing at their newfound liquor fountain. Orgiastic alcohol post-victory party which will go on every day till December right into the New Year, at which point, I warned them, they'd get a BIG FAT HANGOVER and no liver to speak of.

But, you might notice, am I ranting because I'm bitter like the beer they rocked out to and won? Mmmmmmm.......... yeah.

Cos I'm envious, like the selfish and vain little twit that I am, that He my glorious rocker ex has finally gotten his penultimate dream to make sweet sweet music/love/babies forever and ever amen and get paid to do it (and at such a young age too). While I am here, mildly nostalgic, stirringly hung-up, and doing a PAPER for a profession that will someday get me shot, mauled, libeled, jailed, and/or deprived of sleep. A few years from now, he will be a magnificent thick-maned god to whom goblets of RAWK will be raised and I'll be a dead journalist criminal woman with large eyebags. He'll have groupies. I'll have... a collection of pencils.

Or maybe I'm just bitter that an A M A J o l i n a boy can make it and a U P student can't.

and the winner of a vat of alcohol is....

darling rocker ex! Specifically, his band named after boiled chicken embryos.

at the m u z i k l a b a n this year. Their monumental break into the music industry. Amid pledges of bringing into the mainstream "ang tunog ng norte" i.e. bageeyow city, here i have to ask. tunog ng norte/ baguio? Is that the sound of the slow, painfully drawn out death of the atmosphere, and the little sizzle sizzle of the rising temperature in Baguio due to pollution and overpopulation? The sound of gongs and swishing ethnic G-strings? Or is their brand of emo-rock the all encompassing sound of the summer capital of the pilipens? Dunno. We'll see though, once they release an album. And a video, at which point I shall tune out and crawl into my little ex-girlfriend hole.

i hear they won a hundred crates of R e d H o r s e B e e r and are funneling the booze through thick plastic tubes to their friends back home in Baguio. Proof of which is that I just got a YM message from one of the band's very kooky, and decidedly drunk friends rejoicing at their newfound liquor fountain. Orgiastic alcohol post-victory party which will go on every day till December right into the New Year, at which point, I warned them, they'd get a BIG FAT HANGOVER and no liver to speak of.

But, you might notice, am I ranting because I'm bitter like the beer they rocked out to and won? Mmmmmmm.......... yeah.

Cos I'm envious, like the selfish and vain little twit that I am, that He my glorious rocker ex has finally gotten his penultimate dream to make sweet sweet music/love/babies forever and ever amen and get paid to do it (and at such a young age too). While I am here, mildly nostalgic, stirringly hung-up, and doing a PAPER for a profession that will someday get me shot, mauled, libeled, jailed, and/or deprived of sleep. A few years from now, he will be a magnificent thick-maned god to whom goblets of RAWK will be raised and I'll be a dead journalist criminal woman with large eyebags. He'll have groupies. I'll have... a collection of pencils.

Or maybe I'm just bitter that an A M A J o l i n a boy can make it and a U P student can't.

and the winner of a vat of alcohol is....

darling rocker ex! Specifically, his band named after boiled chicken embryos.

at the m u z i k l a b a n this year. Their monumental break into the music industry. Amid pledges of bringing into the mainstream "ang tunog ng norte" i.e. bageeyow city, here i have to ask. tunog ng norte/ baguio? Is that the sound of the slow, painfully drawn out death of the atmosphere, and the little sizzle sizzle of the rising temperature in Baguio due to pollution and overpopulation? The sound of gongs and swishing ethnic G-strings? Or is their brand of emo-rock the all encompassing sound of the summer capital of the pilipens? Dunno. We'll see though, once they release an album. And a video, at which point I shall tune out and crawl into my little ex-girlfriend hole.

i hear they won a hundred crates of R e d H o r s e B e e r and are funneling the booze through thick plastic tubes to their friends back home in Baguio. Proof of which is that I just got a YM message from one of the band's very kooky, and decidedly drunk friends rejoicing at their newfound liquor fountain. Orgiastic alcohol post-victory party which will go on every day till December right into the New Year, at which point, I warned them, they'd get a BIG FAT HANGOVER and no liver to speak of.

But, you might notice, am I ranting because I'm bitter like the beer they rocked out to and won? Mmmmmmm.......... yeah.

Cos I'm envious, like the selfish and vain little twit that I am, that He my glorious rocker ex has finally gotten his penultimate dream to make sweet sweet music/love/babies forever and ever amen and get paid to do it (and at such a young age too). While I am here, mildly nostalgic, stirringly hung-up, and doing a PAPER for a profession that will someday get me shot, mauled, libeled, jailed, and/or deprived of sleep. A few years from now, he will be a magnificent thick-maned god to whom goblets of RAWK will be raised and I'll be a dead journalist criminal woman with large eyebags. He'll have groupies. I'll have... a collection of pencils.

Or maybe I'm just bitter that an A M A J o l i n a boy can make it and a U P student can't.

and the winner of a vat of alcohol is....

darling rocker ex! Specifically, his band named after boiled chicken embryos.

at the m u z i k l a b a n this year. Their monumental break into the music industry. Amid pledges of bringing into the mainstream "ang tunog ng norte" i.e. bageeyow city, here i have to ask. tunog ng norte/ baguio? Is that the sound of the slow, painfully drawn out death of the atmosphere, and the little sizzle sizzle of the rising temperature in Baguio due to pollution and overpopulation? The sound of gongs and swishing ethnic G-strings? Or is their brand of emo-rock the all encompassing sound of the summer capital of the pilipens? Dunno. We'll see though, once they release an album. And a video, at which point I shall tune out and crawl into my little ex-girlfriend hole.

i hear they won a hundred crates of R e d H o r s e B e e r and are funneling the booze through thick plastic tubes to their friends back home in Baguio. Proof of which is that I just got a YM message from one of the band's very kooky, and decidedly drunk friends rejoicing at their newfound liquor fountain. Orgiastic alcohol post-victory party which will go on every day till December right into the New Year, at which point, I warned them, they'd get a BIG FAT HANGOVER and no liver to speak of.

But, you might notice, am I ranting because I'm bitter like the beer they rocked out to and won? Mmmmmmm.......... yeah.

Cos I'm envious, like the selfish and vain little twit that I am, that He my glorious rocker ex has finally gotten his penultimate dream to make sweet sweet music/love/babies forever and ever amen and get paid to do it (and at such a young age too). While I am here, mildly nostalgic, stirringly hung-up, and doing a PAPER for a profession that will someday get me shot, mauled, libeled, jailed, and/or deprived of sleep. A few years from now, he will be a magnificent thick-maned god to whom goblets of RAWK will be raised and I'll be a dead journalist criminal woman with large eyebags. He'll have groupies. I'll have... a collection of pencils.

Or maybe I'm just bitter that an A M A J o l i n a boy can make it and a U P student can't.

and the winner of a vat of alcohol is....

darling rocker ex! Specifically, his band named after boiled chicken embryos.

at the m u z i k l a b a n this year. Their monumental break into the music industry. Amid pledges of bringing into the mainstream "ang tunog ng norte" i.e. bageeyow city, here i have to ask. tunog ng norte/ baguio? Is that the sound of the slow, painfully drawn out death of the atmosphere, and the little sizzle sizzle of the rising temperature in Baguio due to pollution and overpopulation? The sound of gongs and swishing ethnic G-strings? Or is their brand of emo-rock the all encompassing sound of the summer capital of the pilipens? Dunno. We'll see though, once they release an album. And a video, at which point I shall tune out and crawl into my little ex-girlfriend hole.

i hear they won a hundred crates of R e d H o r s e B e e r and are funneling the booze through thick plastic tubes to their friends back home in Baguio. Proof of which is that I just got a YM message from one of the band's very kooky, and decidedly drunk friends rejoicing at their newfound liquor fountain. Orgiastic alcohol post-victory party which will go on every day till December right into the New Year, at which point, I warned them, they'd get a BIG FAT HANGOVER and no liver to speak of.

But, you might notice, am I ranting because I'm bitter like the beer they rocked out to and won? Mmmmmmm.......... yeah.

Cos I'm envious, like the selfish and vain little twit that I am, that He my glorious rocker ex has finally gotten his penultimate dream to make sweet sweet music/love/babies forever and ever amen and get paid to do it (and at such a young age too). While I am here, mildly nostalgic, stirringly hung-up, and doing a PAPER for a profession that will someday get me shot, mauled, libeled, jailed, and/or deprived of sleep. A few years from now, he will be a magnificent thick-maned god to whom goblets of RAWK will be raised and I'll be a dead journalist criminal woman with large eyebags. He'll have groupies. I'll have... a collection of pencils.

Or maybe I'm just bitter that an A M A J o l i n a boy can make it and a U P student can't.

Oh my Gulay!

To date, I've been a vegetarian for, like what, roughly a year? God knows how I survived this long.

I did it as a post-Lenten season thingy. During Lent, for 40 days, I had to sacrifice something from my diet (like Jesus who I think(?) ate rocks in the desert for a fortnight), which, inevitably fell to all kinds of meat. Then after that, I just said 'what the hell' and kept on going. Then LATER, when I found out the latter explanation for my sudden shift to vegetarianism was both trite and too long to explain (I don't tell Bible stories well, for one), I shifted to (and PETA advocates will be proud) the justification: "I wanted to stop killing animals."

And yes, I did see those PETA videos, the ones about how chickens, cows, and pigs are slaughtered [maltreated, scalded or tortured while still fully conscious then mercilessly killed]. I also saw the PETA videos about puppy mills which ended my how-much-is-that-doggy-in-the-window-at-the-mall days. Now I'd rather adopt than buy from commercial pet stores, knowing those poor puppies come from the rough equivalent of animal concentration camps. [Plug: For more information and to see for yourself, please go to www.peta.com. haha halata.]

I am also set to read this book recommended to me by Professor Rara, one of my favorite journ profs, "Animal Liberation." It's supposed to be provocative and highly-persuasive. And long.

Although, yes, I am still killing baby animals by eating egg products, a wierd kind of animal abortion you might say, and prolly am not helping much in that regard. Sans the increased risk of colon cancer and carbo-loading, I'm trying. Because from what I'd like to believe (and my brother keeps on mocking this argument), in my little way, by refusing to eat flesh, I am saving at least one cow, two chickens, and a pig every week. So heroic.

you don't want this and neither do they.

By far, however, being the sole vegetarian in a family of omni-ultracarnivores, it's been a slight inconvenience on the home front. Our restaurant choices have been limited. ("KFC... [realization. then disappointment] oh yeah. Vegetarian pala si Tin.") My brother has mocked me on the dinner table to no end. "Face it ate [in deep baritone] you can't stop the killings all by yourself! [bites into chickenporkbeef adobo with relish.] How do you know you'll stop the killings? do you have data?" which is true, though. for every chicken/pig/beef (or cow?) I don't eat, Nico has twice the serving to compensate. Huh.

I've subsisted on tofu for the past ... eight months. (Though am I encouraging the industry of tofu growers who exploit their tofu-picker-packers in China? God, what do we eat these days so we won't be trampling upon someone's rights???!) Although I'm not complaining. There's always fruit. and onion leeks lying about the fresh produce bin.

But then there's the occasional slip. Sometimes I forget I'm a vegetarian when my aunt's baked garlicky cheese prawns are out. Again, Satan (a.k.a. my brother), catches me and says, "o! you're killing the seafood!" are sea creatures maltreated? yes, of course they are. but they're so yummy at times. Especially when they're breaded and fried till golden brown. (aaahhh stop stop images!!)

Then recently, I learned even plants, for goodness sake, have feelings. Prof. Rara discussed in class a study about this scientist dude (she forgot the name, basta he won an honorary Ph.D. for the study) experimented with edible house plants which he hooked up to electrodes. whenever he'd advance toward a plant with intentions of cooking it or spraying it with ranch dressing, the electrode meter would detect harsh electrical impulses, as if the plant was alarmed. Otherwise, the plants remained calm. Then one day all the house plants were "alarmed" cause their electrode meters were going through the roof. Later, the scientist's friend arrives. He tells her what happened an hour before the friend came, about the plants panicking. Then the friend, surprised, reveals that an hour before she went over to his house, she fixed a salad. Moral of story: the salad plants sent out distress signals to the lab plants a hundred kilometers away. They've actually got ESPN. Huh.

So then now, we have to follow the Indians' suit. Pray to the plant first, honor it, and say, "I'm sorry I have to eat you, dear vegetable, but it's for my subsistence. But thank you for giving up your life for me." Then the plants supposedly die of its own accord. Prof. has a friend who can feel the life force of various organic produce in the supermarket. She makes sure to buy only the vegetables that have no palpable life energies. I've been wanting to try this sometime but I haven't been to the supermarket lately.

But anyway, it's been an enlightening experience, turning vegetarian. (ovo-lacto). I think I've slowly influenced my family a bit, that is, they pity me so much (what with eating tofu all the time) that they usually eat the tofu with me. Then they discovered the wonders of veggie meat. a bit spongy, for their tastes, but essentially alright. Soon, if I'm successful, we'll all be grazing the lawn and eating flowers. Dad can chew grass while playing golf. Mom can grow her plants and eat them too. Then smoking grass, ah, that's a completely different story.

But anyway I guess all I wanted to say was hurrah to all the vegetarians out there who love animals enough not to kill them!! :) It's neat not to eat meat. [haha]

march little hindquarters. march like the wind.