too critical.

How do I go about getting a gig like this? 120 seconds to speak my mind and be as sarcastic as hell about it.

thinking mat.

In Kindergarten it was called the Thinking Mat, a roughly 1.5'x 2' piece of carpet you would be sent to sit on after misbehaving. You would be asked to sit on the carpet for 5-10 minutes to "think." (I am obviously attempting an educated guess as to how long it was...) Such a simple concept back then. You sit, and no one is allowed to speak to you, let alone come near you. For those 5-10 minutes, the moment was yours.

Some days I cannot seem to buy 5-10 minutes for myself. If it is not the constant interaction of people throughout the day that keeps me, it is the traffic of thoughts that refuse to yield. Maybe the solution is a work-timeout. A cubicle, if you will. Isolation from the rest; the only distractions being the muffled voices between cubed walls. Lunch granted if thoughts compiled, goals set, and deadlines met.

Looks like no lunch for me today.

men of Port Charles.

Claudia Zacchara is dead. Brother Johnny has decided that a scruffy look goes hand in hand during his time of mourning, which has been void of tears and any real sentimental moment. Kind of like how the Wolverine handled Jean Grey's absence. See the resemblance?



Over time, some characters are re-casted. Just as sports fans have favorite athletes, soap junkies have favorite actors/actresses that play each role. Over the past 10 years, I have adopted my own favorites. Jonathan Jackson was the original Lucky. Since then Jacob Young and Greg Vaughan have been casted as Lucky, but neither did the character justice. I was thrilled to hear the narration, "The role of Lucky Spencer is now played by Jonathan Jackson" last week. Welcome back, Lucky.



I think I speak on behalf of all General Hospital fans when I thank the producers for finally re-casting the role of Michael Corrinthos, III. I do not know how much more of the ugly red headed kid I could take. I will not even question the miracle of genetics. I can now watch each scene with ease, as Drew Garrett is definitely easier on the eye.



And then there's Sam and Jason...they are finally back together! ...sort of.


Ah, it is no wonder I cannot seem to clear out my DVR. Prime time shows consume it, as I struggle to keep up with my daily dose of Port Charles.

...so are the days of my life.

just call me Lulu.

In the past, the misguided and confused have told me that I resemble Lucy Liu and Sandra Oh.



Last I checked my eyes were not as slanted as Lucy's, and my face looked more like a tomato than a yam, like Sandra's. Hell, at one point in time, there was a girl on Barney (I think her name was Min), and people said I looked like her (maybe, minus the bangs...).


I had not had a case of mistaken identity in awhile...until today, that is. The lady working the fitting room at Old Navy insisted on keeping me 5 minutes to tell me how uncanny the resemblance was between me and a character on Nickelodeon - Lulu from True Jackson VP.


She was so animated while convincing me of this resemblance, that I was thinking it was only a matter of time before she whipped out a Sharpie and had me autograph her shirt. She continued telling me how if her daughter were present, she would be ecstatic and doing flips around the store. You can only imagine my reaction when I came home to Google image this Lulu character. I mean, I know I look young...but come on, a 16 year old Filipino?

I guess it could be worse. She could have been way off the map and told me I looked like Dora the Explorer. Though the animated Latina does have a best friend named Boots the Monkey, which I think is pretty damn cool.

not just a bagger.

This is probably one of the cheesiest, if not THE cheesiest, things I will ever post and write about...(do not judge me by my moment of cheesy weakness)...



Today I voluntarily attended a customer service class. One of the things I wanted to improve on after receiving my most recent evaluation was the service I provided day in and day out at both of my jobs. Kiss ass, you say? It sure seems that way, doesn't it? But as hard as it may be to believe, I really did hope to get a lot out of the class. And I did.

It takes a toll on you after awhile. Dealing with stupid people, sick people, ignorant people, old people, foreigners...it is far from easy. I may not have Down's. I may not be a bagger. And I sure as hell may not have people lining up to encounter my services. But I do expect myself to provide notable service on a regular basis, as I chose to be in this line of business. I choose to continue working with the public, regardless of their IQ, age, or race, and they deserve the best I can give.

Babe Ruthless.

I love Ellen Page. Absolutely loved her in Juno and was not disappointed in Whip it.

she can make me LOL-smiley face.

I cannot wait until her show picks up again in 2010.

another one bites the dust.

The year 2009 just has not been kind. Another loving soul has left us.

The thing I will remember the most is this conversation we had about his marriage and how he and his wife would FIND the time to just sit and talk after their days work. He said they would sit on the patio with a drink in hand and would listen to one another’s day and that meant a lot to him. I thought to myself…how wonderful that must have been and how that will be no more. I would love to have had that!

He was that kind of guy. He made time for small talk and appreciated every moment in life. At work he always called me "kid" and always asked how my day was. I still remember the times he would stop by the pharmacy just to say "hi." I only wish I could have visited him more often, especially when he was diagnosed. I know he is in a better place now...and taking care of his wife from up above. He will be missed, and I will think of him every time I read about or watch Penn State football.

Rest in peace, Richard (Dick) Russell.

happy birthday, dad.

Today was my dad's 62nd birthday. American birthday, that is.

We had the usual noodle-eating, gift-giving, candle-blowing birthday. Everything was going as usual, until my father decided to blurt this out...

"In ten years, when I turn 72, I want a grand child for my birthday."

Oh. Okay, dad.

(I pretended not to hear him...)

we're all human...and make mistakes.

Voepel: After extreme DUI charge, Taurasi is no All Star





Taurasi is still an All-Star in my eyes. Shit, she can apparently drink most girls under the table with a BAC of 0.17.

Whitey went out with a bang!

The idea was to start posting again (with words, not just pictures) once I regained full movement in my left hand. Rehab is proving more difficult than I thought, so looks like I am just going to have to recap the accident...

Fucking 18 year old lied to his mother about going to Lifetime Fitness. Instead, the fucker was going to his friend's house. Stupid fool must have had hot girls and a million dollars waiting for him or something because the idiot turned right in front of me (with absolutely no room to turn), and I T-ed him going about 47 mph. No room to brake; no time to avoid it. The last words out of my mouth before the crash were, What the Fuck?!

My car lands on someone's front lawn. Air bags deploy. Fortunately, I walked away with just a broken hand. How the hell I broke it remains a mystery.


The end. The end of my golf-ball car, Whitey.

David Bowie, drool.

I totally want this T-shirt...

Magneto.

Introducing my first grown up purchase...my new car, Magneto.





Yeah, I know it is gay to name cars. But I had to out of respect for Whitey.

I feel spoiled even though I went with a basic model - I now have automatic, tinted windows AND automatic locks! After owning the car for almost a month, I still find myself using the key to unlock the car door.

*edit*

Fuck - I really need to remember that this car is way lower than the Corolla...

junk mail.

I wonder which mailing list brought this piece of mail to my door...

nike, what?

I love the work of Nike. The puppets look just like 'em!

the irony.

Shortly after my last post, I found myself in an accident of my own. Because blogging is just not as fun when typing with one hand, a more detailed post will have to wait. It has been an incredibly challenging, long month.

Appreciate your limbs. It is amazing the things you cannot do when without one.

...and then there were...none.

It is record-setting. It is heart-breaking. It is tragic. This morning news of yet another person I once knew has passed away. Less than twenty days ago, a gentle, kind-hearted young man left us.

DC,

What the hell happened, man? We have not talked in so long, so imagine my disbelief when I found out. I wanted so hard to believe it was someone else. I was told to Google your incident to read more about it. I wish I hadn't.

What the hell were you doing? Were you fucked up? Were you really on your way to work? I know you would not take your life - so why the hell did you bust-a-u on the Tollway? Why?! What were you thinking? Your fiance. Your little baby girl. What are they going to do without you?

I hope you did not suffer. I hope you are resting in peace. You deserve the best any world can offer you. You may not have made the best choices all the time, but you always had everyone's best interest at heart. I will never forget the times we shared. Our rooftop moments. The night outside Mark's apartment. Your apartment. Endless nights at Bennigan's. Your smile and laugh were infectious. Your memories live inside of me.

Rest in Peace.

i'm real.

"Sometimes I just don't know about you..."

Though they may not seem like hurtful words, they hit me hard. Real hard. Coming from someone I trust and someone who is genuinely honest. For someone like that to not know...to have doubts about me and my actions...it does not feel good.

When I asked what he meant and what he did not know, he replied by saying I was "too nice." I must have missed the memo where every once in awhile we are supposed to be bastards to our friends so that they do not question our motives. So that we do not come across as "too nice."

I do not think I am "too nice." Not even close. I must admit that I am probably nicer to him than I am to others, but that is only because he is truly one of the most sincere people I have ever met. I have never had even an inkling of desire to be rude or mean to him, never had a reason. Maybe he needs to see the bitch in me to know that I am real.

one size does not fit all.

Dear Leasing Office Bitch,

I do not hate you because you are fat. I hate you because I partially blame you for my missing Victoria Secret Package. I blame you because you never seem to give a damn. Whether it is because you think I am a little kid unworthy of your efforts or undivided attention or because you hate your job. I hate you. I hate the way you talk. I hate the way you fix your bra strap mid conversation. I hate that you were probably responsible for my lost package and will not get off your lazy, fat ass to investigate the matter.

I know these hateful words will not bring to life my misplaced panties and bras. I know I must sound shallow and materialistic. I am just angry. Extremely angry. Again, I do not hate you because you are fat, but I do believe you would be a better person if you dropped a few hundred pounds and pretended to care.


Sincerely,

Unhappy Tenant

slightly shaken, never stirred.

Overwhelmed by a craving for a frappaccino, I caved and indulged in a vanilla bean one. If I am not mistaken, it was the first frappaccino I had had since high school. It was delicious until it became all frothy. My Tall order was just enough to satisfy my craving.

My bad luck with cameras (and cell phones) precedes me. Goodbye, Sony Cybershot. Though you did not have the quickest shutter speed or the steadiest shot, you were a clean looking camera, and I liked you. I gave into my girly tastes when I bought you. How could you let me down for no good reason at all?

Stupid Parks and Recreation show. The only line worthy of quoting during the entire first 30 minute episode was, "...what I hear when I am being yelled at are people caring loudly at me."

I will admit, there are times I spend more time getting ready for the gym than I do getting ready for work. Basketball shoes or cross-trainers? Tank top or t-shirt? Some times I even smell better when I go to the gym. Don't judge.

I am very much a local-bar girl. Though I would not consider it a 'dive' or hole-in-the-wall, Austin Avenue is far from The Living Room or Ghost Bar, even. And I love it like that. No worries about what to wear. No one to judge. Always interesting people to meet. Always a good time to be had.

Another tax day has come and gone. I have come up with my own personal slogan...

Each year I owe more and more.
The government sees me as a money sucking whore.