For some reason I keep thinking that FLCD means "Family Life and Cake Development."

Sorry, Ivy. :)

Tangina.

Hindi ko napanood ang Bikini Open.

since my mom rarely treats me to movies, i took advantage of the opportunity. and so we watched...well, what else is there to watch?

( anakin, you're breaking my heart! )

GTA: San Andreas is a great game, especially for escaping uncertain realities like talent test results. By the way, I dreamed that FA had a zoo somewhere in the back that housed creepy animals. It wasn't even dark in there, but the rattling cages were creepy creepy creepy. Come to think of it I don't really remember the animal themselves, just the cages. But I digress.

Now, GTA. The amount of detail in this game is incredible. Los Santos (the game's version of Los Angeles) has the "VINEWOOD" sign on the hills. San Fierro (San Francisco) has the trams and steep slopes and its own Golden Gate, albeit under a different name. And Las Venturas (yup, Las Vegas), oh, even the console is orgasmic. Elvis Presley-wannabes. Flamboyantly lighted casinos. Hookers whose clothes are in various degrees of disappearance. It freaking rocks! The radio stations also update themselves whenever a major plot-propelling mission gets accomplished: events you cause become news, with occasional comments from the DJs themselves. Orgasmic, I tell you. I'm still addicted after all these months. Nothing like sublimating your aggression through a controller.

solar usa, home of b-movies and women's wrestling on cable, is airing a cartoon series where the star is "a stripper by night, a hero a bit later." her name - you guessed it - stripperella!

ding, ang bato!

I glimpsed a statement shirt (trendy and tight) on a dude that went like this:

IT'S OFFICIAL
I just broke up
with my girlfriend.

Now this would be remarkable if...
1. The dude has been out since he was born, thus making the phenomenon of girlfriends unexpected.
2. The dude is actually advertising his availability to the probably indifferent female population.
3. The dude was a dudette.
4. The dude were with another dude, holding hands, and wearing the same shirt.
5. There is no number five.

( lost )

May Fatal Frame III na!

Kurosawa? Amakura? Hinasaki?

If Paris Hilton Wrote Poetry
JANIS BUTLER HOLM

Shoes.
Shoes.
Cute.
Shoes.
Me.
Cute Shoes.

Shoes. Shoes.
Me. Me.
Cute.
Cute.
Me.

i miss my friends. terribly.

Oh, God. I'm broke and it sucks black holes. I'd love to read everyone, but at PhP10 all I can really do is make posts like this and say vague things like "today I hate yellow" and gape at a dull inbox.

I am so gonna get rich someday.

i met inquibbler!

small world, upd.

Let's begin with something icky: I've been wearing the same clothes for the past forty-one hours. :)

We had an impromptu sleepover at Sheiglyn's place. I attempted playing Forbidden Siren on her PS2. It still scared the shit out of me - how could I not love it? Bless their bleeding eyes, the Shibito are creepy. It was a lot easier getting used to Fatal Frame II's ghosts - they were more predictable, and then most of the time you're armed with the camera obscura. This game will have you wandering in the mist with a stick in your hands, followed by another (usually annoying) character who won't be able to help once a Shibito takes a liking to your throat.

To be crude about it, Forbidden Siren is about a group of people trying to survive in a village now inhabited by the Shibito, zombielike creatures in dire need of cosmetic surgery. Your primary (at times, only) advantage is the ability to sight-jack, that is, to "tune into" what nearby creatures can see. It's like scanning for channels on television. Speaking of, my friend sightjacked one shibito watching TV - and laughing at an empty screen. Is that freaky or what?

There are many things to love about Forbidden Siren, once you get over the atrocious dubbing. The realistic faces are marvelous. I mean, these characters could be real people. In fact, I just found out that they were modelled after real actors. Imagine that, the opportunity to play yourself and watch your likeness die onscreen.

Oh, and we also played Kingdom Hearts and Lara Croft: Angel of Darkness, but as apparent by their lack of airtime in this post, I'm for the Siren. :)

Seven fucking o'clock. I woke up at seven fucking o'clock - and somewhere in UP Diliman a Math 100 class is starting without me. This is getting depressing. How am I supposed to pass a subject (Math 100, no less!) when I'm absent half the fucking time?

Anyway, while I was about to leave I found my brother on the doorstep. Pagtaguan ba naman ako. He was anticipating a round of verbal abuse kasi hindi niya ako nagising on time. Shemps hindi naman niya talaga kasalanan iyon since I'm the ate and I'm supposed to be waking him up, so natawa na lang ako. Gulat na gulat pa talaga siya noong binuksan ko iyong pinto. Teehee...

( I saw the word 'stalk' and just couldn't resist the temptation. )

There is more to this, right? The so-called bigger picture? The abstraction that ties it all up, that thing that will keep you sane when nothing else will and assure you that you're going to be okay?

I should've known that the Harry Potter activity at Shangri-la Plaza was for kids. There was a "boggart" inside a "closet," who, in the words of Alena, "moans like your next door neighbor." Hm - what else - there isn't much else. Except merchandise, merchandise, merchandise. Of course, why opt for discussions about the book when you can indulge consumerist cravings? Well, blah, what am I complaining about - I was in a mall, for kreiz sake. One of those posh malls at that. It was fun, though. There was more than enough space for us to mill about and stare longingly at things we can't buy.

Sheigs called me up this morning. I thought it was Clang's mom at first, so I was polite. I met up with her (instead of Clang - gomen!) later and watched The Eye 2. The movie features ghosts swimming in midair, ghosts attending pregnancy exercises, and dear god, ghosts that want to be babies.

We weren't the only ones laughing when we left the theater.

Hm. I'll go on being "anamnesia," I guess.

Writing academic papers wasn't as bad as I thought. There is a sense to the tedious citing of sources. There I was thinking that it was all just scholarly paranoia about having your ideas stolen by some lazy undergrad...fact is, anyone can claim the reality of something and be quite persuasive about it. Even morons can be quite persuasive. Granted, it's also a bit moronic to be convinced by moronic statements, but it doesn't change the fact that the moron deliberately set out to make morons out of other people too. It's so funny sometimes. For the most part it's infuriating.

While researching for a position paper I came across this golden passage from Leanne Bell. The issue is whether women should keep their birth names after marriage.

"Women who choose not to take their husband's surname after marriage are not sexually attracted to them, and will likely be the one to initiate divorce.

When a woman feels metaphysically submissive to a man, when she admires all the masculine qualities he exhibits and deems him worthy of submitting to, sexually speaking, she will gladly become 'his' and take his name. This is the essence of femininity."

(Here's the whole can.)

At the FC lobby, over footlong sandwiches:

"But isn't writing an art?" I ask.

"No," Cynical Friend(tm) replies.

"Then what is it?" I ask, sensing a Cynical(tm) one-liner coming. "A job?"

"No," she says. "It's something you do when you can't do anything else right."