ptaers

finally i was able to attend a pta thingie this year. i've only been in one of three. and the only one i attended, i got elected...again. haaay. not that i dont want to be of service. i just dont like the politics and the players...specifically this year's batch.

i 've been my kid's pta class representative/chairperson/president ever since he started school. the only time i wasn't class rep was during my kid's first year at cdc, when we elected maricel laxa as class rep for the 4s class. the year after, i became class rep. i had fun. we were one big happy family (i'm biased, the preschool is a UPlab school..hehehe) i even brought kokokwikkwak (the bading eagle) there for a spanking family day celebration. the kids had fun. the teachers had fun. everybody happy.

the following year was BigSchool year. i thought i wasnt gonna be picked...but alas! i was elected president for the class and secretary for the level...same thing happened the following year, which was last year. do i look like an eager mommy? hmm..no! but because i was young, attractive and fresh..i had to represent them. haha!

the first year was, of course, exciting. and the pta officers were cool. we bonded. and so we had great projects. the following year, i didnt like it. at all. we still had a couple of old timers, but now there were obnoxious, bully parents. the level president and i discussed this one time. we both agreed that the Others weren't cool. argh. they were loud, uncivilized. i hated them. they weren't pleasant. but they thought they were. i wasnt active last year. my tummy churns everytime i see them. sama ko.

this year, im it again (president for the class and level officer). haaaay. why?? but i volunteered for an easy post...PRO. if you volunteer, you dont get volunteered by others...a trick i should've learned two years ago.

sometimes i think, maybe i have a magnet on me or something. either that or i was a super hero.

the weekend was a blast.

friday.
sweet80scontradiva still didnt have an outfit for the gig. of course i wanted her to look her best, so i decided to meet up with her post shift for a shopping spree. well, at least her shopping spree. i was a little hesitant at first, coz the last time we did something like this, she came in almost 2 hours late. (good thing i knew how to amuse myself) anyway, my altruistic self got the better of me. i waited for her, again...before getting off the train, i got this call from her. and then the line got cut. and then the phone was ringing, and then a guy answered the phone. his voice was really creepy, like a kidnapper or something. 
"bakit di mo sinasagot yung phone? ha?" shit. i thought it was a joke. 
"kanina pa kita tinatawagan ha. hello? hello! bakit di mo sinasagot yung phone ha?!" i hung up. ugh.
i met up with her, and her mom. saya. haven't had sleep, since i had an all night-er thurs pm. :)


saturday.
went straight to work after partying with my exbandmates, still my good friends. it was the birthday of our bassist, so whether i was sleep deprived or not, i had to be there. i haven't seen them much lately. i haven't seen anyone lately. i haven't been out lately. so what else is new? :)
it was gig night at bykes, where all the nice bikes and old guys hang out. carpool was scheduled to leave at 5p for our 6p soundcheck, so i got my wake up call at...510p! they were asking if i was already on my way. told them i'll just go to makati. good thing i wasn't needed for soundcheck, so i got to makati just in time for the set.
it was a really nice place. it was opening night for the 2nd floor, and it was beautiful. subdued lights, sleek design, the whole place was in monotone. it had a huge dance floor. lots of mirrors! (imagine making out in the middle of the dance floor..nice!) our set was ok. could have been better. but okay. i had a critic friend check out our gig. unfortunately, my critic friend turned out to be just a friend and not a critic. but im glad he was there. really. refreshing sight in a pool of old faces. finally, i got to hang out with someone my age after our set. ( i don't remember if i told him how relieved i was...)
after my critic friend left, hung out with sweet80scontradiva and her hubby. and because hubby didnt want to dance, sweet80scontradiva begged me to dance with her. i refused. hahaha! but mike, the owner, saw that i wasn't dancing. he went up to me and said:
"karen, you should dance," he said in his oh-so-mighty im-a-groovy-dj voice.
"no, i dont know how..." i gave him my sweetest sheepish smile, hoping he'd go away. but i wasn't successful.
"i'll get a d.i. for you. you should dance," he turned away. After a few secs, he was back with this tisoy looking d.i. "karen, this is john. john, dance with her." And like a dutiful son, john the d.i. nodded, took my hand and danced with me. he had a powerful grip, spoke good english. and he was a good dancer. john the d.i. smelled good. i didn't think i'd enjoy it. but i did, in a groovy kind of way. we were dancing the foxtrot, and although i know i looked clumsy, i felt i was graceful. i liked it.
after that, sweet80scontradiva and i danced. i was a little more confident now, not because of my d.i. experience, but really because there weren't as many people dancing anymore. after a few mins, we got the bill, surprised that i downed 5 glasses of vodka, plus one whiskey, signed for it and then my critic friend was back to bring me home. well, he brought me bliss. then brought me home.   

sunday.
woke up just in time for my friend's kid's baptism. when i got to the church with aiken, the couple was just about to go to the reception. so we went to the reception (max's) instead. food was yummy! and so many! my friend overestimated so there were 5 unoccupied tables, which meant more food! after that, we went to my friend's house for beers. good thing my kid didn't have school the next day. went home.  wrote in my real world notebook journal, as my friend called it, got my sleep. finally. 

CL on BGs

By Courtney Love

I was born bad. My biological dad is a bad man, so mama simply thought,
"Ooh, she's got that bad blood seed in her." At heart, home, hearth and
boyfriend, I am a full-on good girl prude-but don't tell anyone.

When you're a bad girl, people are terrified of you. You don't get
mugged or raped because you don't have any victim energy (I'm sure it has
happened, just not as often). It's bad if you're a famous one, though,
because the boys all wanna fuck you, but then you get all girl-gooey and
they go, "Oooh," because they thought you were gonna spank them. Duh,
asshole.

When you're a bad girl, everyone does what you want. You have room to
grow. Bad girls are kinder than good girls and they are better to other
girls, mostly, unless said other girls are boy-pleasin' users who want
a little bad girl spice rubbed off on 'em like so much perfume. Bad
girls are also more spiritual and less prone to drug addiction, or, if
they have it, when they quit they quit.

Bad girls know genius before the other dumb good girls do. They get the
hot guys first 'cause they aren't looking for that big stamp of
popularity approval. In Amadeus, Salieri says Mozart is ugly; the Soprano (a
naughty bad girl) replies, "A woman of taste only thinks of genius." Bad
girls love boy flesh that has an astronomical IQ.

Most bad girls are not as libidinous as good girls. Sex is intrigue,
not looks; it's build-up and mind-warping.

Bad girls love like lions and kill those who fuck with their kin. Good
girls steal bad girls' boys. Bad girls fuck your boyfriends, yeah, but
we feel shitty about it, sort of. You're there to take care of the dog,
to have the BBQs. We're there to fly in to New York or L.A. or Paris
and lock up in a four-star for three days while your boyfriend and us do
things you'll never know about and he'd never dare do to you. We feel a
little guilty.

Bad girls are "femmenistes;" we like our dark Nars lipstick and LaPerla
panties, but we hate sexism, even if we do fuck your
husbands/boyfriends. We understand men, we love them, us hetero/bi bad girls.

We are not psycho bad girls; those are evil and in a class of their
own. Maybe BUST will do an "evil girl" issue and then we can out them all.
They are usually considered good girls by the community (e.g. Mary Lou
Lord in her high quaky voice and "widdle gurl" act. How could she be
capable of severing the head of a kitty and putting it on your front
porch with a syringe in it's cornea? No, not that widdle good gurl!)

Bad girls will get obsessed if you dump us nasty, but instead of
resorting to evil good girl tactics we will do things like: make your band
open for us someday; send all your mail to a Der Wienerschnitzel in
Watts; get a guitar for revenge; do genius comics and be a genius such as my
favorite NYC bad girl, Dame Darcy, goddess supreme. We met on the one
day I'd uttered her name in a foreign country. She is a bad girl; she's
friends with Lisa Suckdog who has that great zine Rollerderby. Lisa
tries to be a bad girl, crawlin' around nekkid and stuff, but I think she
wasn't born with it. Hey, I could be totally wrong.

Darby from Ben is Dead is a bad girl. She makes fun of me but bad girls
do that to each other, unfortunately. Shouldn't we all be piling up on
Juliana or something?

Cristina Martinez of Boss Hogg is a hot babe bad girl-some day she'll
lose that Spencer guy and come into her own fabulousness. She's got a
swinging bad girl Puerto Rican booty. Man, you don't wanna get on the
wrong end of her rattail comb. See, bad girls get fucked up, like me or
Cristina or Inger Lorre-she's a natural star and the baddest girl of us
all. We just cannot cross the line from bad girl to evil girl, leave
that for the...no point in naming names.

Alanis Morrisette just won a bunch of Grammys and she went to the
Grammys. No bad girl would go to the Grammys.

Don't dump a bad girl 'cause one day you'll have to come back and
grovel for something; watch it, man-hell hath no fury like a bad girl dumped
ill.

Bad girls can deal with a little infidelity; good girls will leave you
on "principle."

Bad girls can be as classy as Jackie O., who was a bad girl, she just
didn't think it was our business to know that.

My sister Ms. Barrymore is a way bad girl. We are going to wear
acid-wash to the Academy Awards. Of course bad girls go to the Academy Award
parties-only if you get nominated are you busy.

Good girls live in a state of sulking or gloating, 'cause they are
getting their butts kissed or having to kiss butt. But my friend-who's a
good boy outside, but a very bad boy inside-told me that there's a middle
state wherein, like if you go to the Academy Awards you are going out
of your way to get your butt kissed, that's lame.

We can be total media whores, but we can also be completely mysterious.

All bad girls in the NYC and LA areas have slept with other girls just
because.

Bad girls love like no one else.

Bad girls swallow-it is sooo rude to spit, but don't do it the first
time. I don't know why I think that, I just think the good girl part of
the bad girl says they know you give good head, so make the worms wait.

If you're a single girl on the make, I suggest power. You have to work
hard to acquire it, and no one will help you. You will gain many girl
enemies. That's 'cause you eventually wind up playing the wife of a huge
publisher-who is alive and happens to like you-in some big movie and
all the lame-o's that work at his magazines you could have chopped but
you won't 'cause BAD GIRLS DO NOT EVER ABUSE POWER once they have
acquired it, except occasionally for sexual purposes only.

Bad girls do not fake orgasms, or they betray only themselves.

Bad girls have bad boy boyfriends but mostly good boy boyfriends 'cause
the sweet-faced angelboy is really horrid and Mr. Gnarly is a big wimp
who wants to know what sweater to wear onstage tonight; blechhh!

Bad girls sometimes wimp out and call, though that's separating the
wheat from the chaff; the men from the wimps. If you can't be friends with
him forget it. If he doesn't know how to actually get you to shut the
fuck up, it's not worth that much. Fuck the phone game; other games are
way funner. I'm a loser at the phone game. If you want to be a femme
fatale, go for it and never call back, tally up, etc. The good ones do
not even get the phone game. It's hard to believe but true. Cat and mouse
is for Elizabethans and Victorians.

Bad girls will always give you the shirt off their backs.

Bad girls are vulgar, but we have the potential for total class.

The rest is my business, not the NY Post's.

(thanks for this, ET!)

dreaming in color

the other night, i had a really bad dream. i haven't had dreams like that recently. either i haven't had time to dream(since i have so little time to sleep), or my subconscious had been one happy contented lazy mind.  not that i was unhappy before. i think my dreams are generated from a weird pocket in my left brain. whatever.
 
my dreams are pretty exhausting too. mainly because i'm  never aware that i'm actually dreaming in my dreams. it has always been so real. well most of the time. i'd know i was in a dream in probably 2 or 3 out of 50 dreams. so i wake up really scared. or tired. or excited. or honest(my favorite word, hehehe).   what's weird is, this happens even when i have recurring dreams.  i always remember getting into that situation, and what i did previously, so i always can choose to not do what i did before.  it gets confusing sometimes, though. and emotionally and mentally draining. (why does this sound like a relationship?)
 
the dreams that stay in my memory bank, at least most of them that's stored, would be my r18 dreams - horror and sex.  not sex-horror dreams. (i can't really imagine exchanging body fluids with a guy spilling his guts on the floor). i could be slashing a vampire with a toenail cutter. or french kissing dingdong dantes. (i dont like him. but he liked me.)
 
the dream that i had the other night, i woke up with the vivid picture of a just finger sliced hand. i couldnt remember exactly what happened, but i remember waking up scared shit. i texted a friend to take my mind off it. but the harder i try not to fall asleep, i did. like in nightmare on elm's street. but then i woke up again. this time i remember what happened. i was in a gym's shower area. initially i was with someone, and that someone was being chased by goons. while watching him evade his captors, i suddenly became the captive. i remember hiding in the shower stalls, crawling, all wet and cold, and squeezing myself in the steam room, under the benches.  and then i remember someone grabbing me and fortunately, there was a small kitchen knife, the size of a bread knife. i used that to slice off the tip of my enemy's fingers. but he wouldn't let go. i wasn't screaming either. so what i did was to slice off his fingers. but that didnt work either. he still had a grip on me, i dont know how he did it. so what i did was to slice his hand into two. and that was when i was able to run to safety.
 
scary shit. and then i woke up.  
 

spongebob and patrick

our guitarist's son was there during last tuesday's lunch out. we scheduled a pictorial for our shangrila gig, to my surpirse he was assigned as photographer. (he was just maarte, so his dad thought that he was perfect for our showbiz shots. hahahah!) and because i wanted to look great, i had a haircut. a showbiz haircut, i call it. well, only if it's blowdried like it was rebonded. the (old)boys generally liked it, my girl friends liked it. for a few moments i liked it too, until i remembered that i dont really fix my hair or even know how to fix it.

anyway, i met this guy two weeks earlier during rehearsals. he lived in the states and was visiting his dad. i thought he was cute, and over inihaw na pusit, ensaladang mangga, boneless bangus, adobong kangkong, adobo flakes, crispy pata and sinuglaw, i thought he was cuter. we didn't really talk much, he just asked me about this line i wrote in the resume that i did for the band, something about fast food combo meals, and what exactly did i mean by it. shit this guy, i thought he was serious..but he was just trying to be smart, and cute. so i told him to not overanalyze. "doing that wont get you anywhere...flattery will," i said...in my head. hehehe. probably my height intimidated him and was using this tactic to overpower me... i would have let him..he just wasn't too persistent. well, at lunch he wasn't, after lunch he was, a little bit.

he started to tease (tease, not seduce) me the moment the other singer and i went on to fix ourselves. at least he wasnt boring. he had a sense of humor. we even had a brief discussion about sex and cuddling! gosh. sex so soon?! i was so tempted to ask him to demonstrate. if only his dad wasn't there...

i just found out there's gonna be a spongebob movie soon. so excited. will have to watch that twice. with aiken. and alone or with friends. that spineless creature is so funny. and so gay. imagine giving your guy bestfriend a chocolate hot air balloon for valentine's day..queer.

the dive

after days of bliss comes the dive. dive to f**king oblivion. can life be sometimes so cruel that one has to swim into something so unhumane?

obviously today is a bad day. the end of today is a bad end of the day.

everything seemed to be rolling right where i wanted it to go. i got in (work) just in time. well, a few minutes late, but a few minutes is "in time" for me. didnt get as much irate weird cussing calls, i was pretty excited, looking forward to the pm. i was having lunch with my band, and that really was something to look forward to. i missed them, for some weird unknown reason. actually, one reason why my friend, Sweet80sContraDiva (the other singer) and i like to sing so much for this band, aside from it being so groovy fun, is that we have a nice relationship with them. these guys are as old as my folks, and they're cool!(i'm not saying my folks aren't cool, coz they are. but they're not here...sniff. i miss them...sniff.) another factor: they host nice dinner parties, they make us feel and eat right at home.

the band rehearsal was okay. we have gigs on the 17th and 24th, so we were a little pressured to learn new songs..but it was generally okay. we had left over crispy pata, super spicy peanuts, bottomless ice cold beers..and diet coke. we extended for an hour, and then Sweet80sContraDiva and i had to rush to chorale practice.

this was the part that irked me. i haven't had sleep. singing's fine by me, but to dance? aarrgghh. i was wearing a freakin skirt. and we had to do some stretching shit. and i was forced to do it. boohoohoohoo....spread your legs and stretch!! i was so tempted to holler, "spread your legs and stretch my ass, bitch!" but of course i did not say that, the good sweet girl that i am. good sweet comfy-with-profanity girl that i am, i shut my mouth and spread my legs. (hmm...why did that sound good...lol!)

but that's not all...thanks to the MD, i have to sing all the solo parts for sister act. and it's not just singing-singing. it's showbiz-dancing singing-singing. shiieett. performance level everyone. ugh. so, droopy eyed, i had to project as if it were the last performance of my life. how sweet. smile! sway more! feel the song! enjoy!... my ass!

got home exhausted, irritated and tired. woke up 5am. late for work.

oh what a beautiful mooorning...

last saturday was the best saturday ever...in years!

it's hard to go into detail.

1. i was able to eat a mcdonald's breakfast without worrying if i had gone over my lunch break. (call center work is crazy! breakfast at lunch break. sheesh.) why?
2. i didn't eat breakfast at paseo center or anywhere near makati. why?
3. i didn't go to work. hallelujah! why?
4. i had to do something else. (this is the best part..)why?
5. something i haven't done in years..i crossed over!!!!

well it was great and incredibly satisfying. definitely deserves a repeat...or a series of, for that matter. mind-blowing. amazing. better than icecream. or horror movies. yum!

that saturday too, i heard mass. well, i sang with my chorale. and i really look forward to saturdays like that. i have been a non practicing catholic for the longest time. and everytime i get the chance, i tell God that i really will make sure i attend mass every sunday thereafter. and every sunday thereafter...it doesnt happen. well, at least the thought of trying enters my mind. that should be good enough for the time being. until i could push myself to do it.

i also played the longest badminton game in my life. 5 freakin hours! with breaks of course, but still....5 hours! i must be mad or too hyper. ADD activated. i dunno where i got the energy though. sex probably got me really high.

ka-blog!

if some of us dont feel like sharing our thoughts to the whole wide world, why do we keep blogs?

ET and i ran out of chat time so we weren't able to discuss this when it was mentioned. we were talking about his blog, i call it a techie blog, "interspersed with bits of other stuff," he says. basically, it's a blog that he keeps to get comments about his tech issues. which is effective and beneficial. mine, on the other hand, which i call pa-cutesy blog (i mean, compared to his which has web traffic and purpose) is purely for writing and venting purposes. closed to web traffic. definitely not for everyone to check out.

so why the hell do i keep a blog, congest whatever it is that gets congested with useless banter, and roll my eyes when people ask me about it?

what do you care? ha? lol.

like the teacher, im not really comfortable sharing my thoughts with most people. peeps find me sociable, very open and friendly with everybody. and because they dont find me mysterious enough, they leave me alone. hehehe. but there's a secret. which is good for another entry.

going back, there is an effort, though not much. THIS is an effort. that's the reason why you dont have a great selection to nitpick in this blog. and the reason why i'm trying to change that is because of the opportunity to practice writing, especially since i am a frustrated writer. i need this. im not a confident writer. which is funny coz i have friends who vouch for my writing. kakahiya. binubugaw ako. hahaha. they say they like it. so they tell people that im a good writer. they believe them. i dont. well...i can, maybe.

and this thing makes me uncomfortable. so next time.

EvilTeacher

EvilTeacher(ET):noun
1. college crush/college friend/guy i met in college.
2. swabeng jazzista drummer.
3. techie yummy udon. (he doesn't know this one yet)


history:
no close ties during college, which was a long time ago. (no, we are not in our forties!) three things we had in common: tambayan, friends, lust. of course the third one, i just found out recently and deserves another post. i met up with him around three weeks ago, i think, after failing to show up at his gig...again. he said we saw each other in freedom, but i remember seeing him in this warehouse rave party in pasay. (funny that i saw him there, we were both rockstars) years after, saw him in 70s bistro. and we exchanged numbers. for all you crazy people, he has a gf. saw each other again for his valentine gig. was able to watch (first time) loved it coz now he's into jazz! (actually, i surprised our bassist coz i was singing some of the tunes that they were playing)saw each other again at the fete de la musique 02. tried to keep in touch but failed. lost contact.

and then, i got this text from him 2nd week of june. i promised him i was gonna go see him at the fete 04.

of course i didnt see him coz i didnt go. so we agreed to meet a few days later, pre-shift...for coffee.

turns out EvilTeacher is interestingly eccentric.

very badly creamed pilya girl

recently i met VBCPG (VeryBadlyCreamedPilyaGirl). i'm having so much fun with her...apparently, ET (EvilTeacher - for lack of a more interesting name)is having fun with her too:

"i've never had a woman provide running commentary as she tweaks off repeatedly after being horny to the point of incapacity in my company."