Wanted: Mr. Partner in Crime

I was saving this post for Valentine’s Day because I highly doubt that anything in my romance department will change from here until February 14th. HA-HA.

But because I have this amazing knack for forgetting things, I decided to go ahead and publish this post today. Ladies and gentlemen, I bring you the “Partner in Crime: Wanted” post:

Partner in Crime
amiable agreement / coercion / blackmailing a male friend to...

Admittedly, this idea has crossed my mind more times than I would care to count AND admit: To ease my parents’ and my siblings’ minds and soothe their fears that I am hopelessly maladjusted in the art of romance and relationship, I decided to refer to the following:

  1. Sweet talk or coerce or blackmail a male friend to pose as my boyfriend.
  2. This agreement needs to be properly documented, either written or in video.
  3. The agreement will run for six months or less. Why six months? It’s just the right length of time. See the following points below.
  4. He will participate in simulating the courtship period. Read: He WILL step into our house and get introduced to my parents as someone I am currently but not officially dating.
  5. This is where the line is drawn: The moment he steps out of the house, we can part ways. He can go to the bar or to a friend’s house and I will go to… well, somewhere else. Point is, the moment we are both out of my parents’ view, we can resume our normal lives. Par-tay! Yay!
  6. On the third or fourth month of our relationship, when we are now officially dating, he will join my family on occasions. He will commiserate with me as my family cracks corny jokes, shout talk to each other as if there are thousands of miles keeping us apart and yes. He will be subjected to conversing with my dad about any of the following topics: history, religion, current events, religion, the good old days, religion, alcohol, and did I mention religion?
  7. We WILL go out on dates three to four times per week. Four is pushing it. I don’t want my family to get attached to the idea that I am dating him.
  8. When I say “date” or “go out” it simply means he will pick me up at my house, say hello and converse with any present family member, we step out of the house, and then go our merry, separate ways. (See number five for reference.)
  9. On the sixth month, we break up. And because I am big-hearted and all kinds of nice, I can magnanimously say that I broke up with him because I realized he is too good for me or because I need time and space and my decision has absolutely nothing to do with him, that it’s me, not him. (Sounds familiar, ex-boyfriends?)
  10. Mission accomplished.

Yeah, okay. I am willing to pay for this. On an hourly rate, since all he has to do is show up at my house on occasions. Well, that and try to at least look decent and pass off as a human being. One who will make my family’s jaw drop and their first reaction would be, “Holy crap. I can’t believe he’s dating her.” And when they say that, I should feel offended and lower than low.

image source: fatniu


Believing in Signs, Dabbling on Randomness and Two Large Cats

I am psychic...
I am psychic...

I used to believe in signs… That is, until I hit my late twenties. It’s probably just me getting old but I stopped looking around and asking for signs. I stopped thinking that something totally random actually meant SOMETHING.

All these signs, these random moments, those things that seem to pop up out of thin air but with the most perfect timing… I really haven’t thought much about it. Until.

Until two people I follow in Twitter caught my attention. (We shall hide them under the monikers of… Marc and Chase… Hi guys! *waves* Oh, those were their real names. I just gave away their real identity. Crap!) One Twitter post led to another… And started these musings and ramblings about signs. And so my former self, the one who used to foolishly believe in signs (Ah, those innocent years I spent believing that the people around me were inherently good and well-meaning and kind), began to wonder once again: What if something wasn’t really random at all? Whether it’s a song that keeps on being thrown into a different genre in your i-pod and keeps on playing no matter how many times you’re sure you had taken it off from the playlist or it’s having the perfect idea of what that certain someone is going to wear for the day… What if it’s Life’s way of nudging you, reminding you, hinting on you about something? About where you should be or who you should communicate with or what you should do?

Years ago, I would know what a certain someone would wear for that day even before I have seen him. It happened once or twice or even thrice a week. It was CRAZY. I would be doing my usual thing and then boom! A random picture of him wearing this or that (I really should stop saying “this or that” because even I am starting to annoy myself) would knock on my mind’s door. Give it a couple of moments later and wouldn’t you know it. He IS wearing what he was wearing in my mind’s eye. I kid you not. True story.

Randomness? At that time, I didn’t think so. I didn’t know (and I still don’t) why I kept on guessing his wardrobe correctly, countless times. It got to the point that I had to change MY own clothes just so we won’t match. I swear, all those times I could guess what he would wear and how I would change just so we wouldn’t have a matching his and hers outfit… CRAZY. Crazy, I tell you. Moral of the story? Don’t overthink on arbitrary moments in your life. Don’t make something out of nothing until the proof slaps you in the face.

Fast forward to now: I inadvertently followed someone in Twitter and said someone, as it turns out, is one of the bosses in the company. And I found out only months after I started following him.

I thought I was following my college crush, truth be told. They had the same name and I probably overlooked the differences in their surnames or maybe I was too busy riding in that cloud, euphoric at the thought that I had finally managed to connect with my college crush  and so I overlooked some details. I can’t be sure but the latter sounds more like me.

Moving on with the story: I followed said user months before even knowing he was one of the bosses. And you know what’s even more funny? That it didn’t sink in immediately. Not even when we had an online meeting and said Twitter user’s full name was displayed there in my larger-than-life monitor (sidenote: My monitor in the office is so large my eyeballs have to swim and do a couple of laps before finding what I need to see). Not even when said Twitter user emailed me for one my tasks. NO. It was weeks after that when I noticed that the boss and the Twitter user? One and the same.

I was following someone long before I knew who he was. Do you know what this means?

Even psychics need doorbells.
Totally tangent but need to know: Even psychics need doorbells.

You guys! I’m psychic!!! This latest, stunning, awe-inspiring, jaw-dropping, momentous event in my life is proof to that. I. Am. Psychic. (What, you guys thought I would say this was all a sign? C’mon, c’mon. I have not gone back to my former self. And besides, I rather think that “psychic” sounds more mysterious and compelling compared to “signs.”)

And to add icing to the cake? He has a cat! A LARGE cat! Adam, I think I just found you a new possible playmate. If only there was a way to get you two together. Let’s just hope, Adam, that the cat is as lazy — oops, mellow. I meant mellow. Let’s hope to high heavens he is as mellow as you are and just as much of a pacifist. Because if that cat isn’t? Um, I think you’ll be better off lounging around here and eating, sleeping, eating some more, and then sleeping yet again.

From seeking signs and then not believing in them to being psychic to getting thrilled about cats… This post has got to be tagged and labelled as a non-sequitur and so now I bid you adieu! And remember: I am psychic!!!

asides: Care to see my Pinterest boards? 🙂 Click right here. I can’t spin straw into gold when you do check it but I promise you that you will be AWESOME! 😀

images sources: velvet tangerine and designwallah

Princess Paranoid

My nine year-old niece, the Paranoid Princess. When I took her out to the mall (with my mom in tow), you won’t see her walking around without holding on to either me or my mom. Sometimes, she’ll hold us both. And when she realizes that both her left and right hands are free? She would exclaim in a tone of voice that’s about one stop short from panic. sheer panic, “Hold my hand! HOLD MY HAND!” And if we don’t comply? The sky would drop from above, elephants would come waltzing in, right along with the lions and hyenas (all in a synchronized ballet movement), and the world will just come to an end. At least, that’s what you’d think would happen if we don’t grab her hands fast enough.

I was willing to write that one off as one of her many silliness because she is a child who indulges in laughter and sarcasm. I was proved to be wrong hours later, when we were about to go home. We were about to get in the cab. She was supposed to stay in the middle part of the backseat. My mom on one end  and I on the other. I told her to go ahead and go inside but she stopped halfway. With half of her butt inside the  cab, the stopped all of a sudden. I told her again to get inside. She told me to wait… So I waited, expecting her to look around, thinking she dropped something. But no. Oh no. What she was waiting for was my mother to get inside the cab first. She said she was afraid of getting kidnapped, that the cab would drive off with just her in the backseat.

Paranoia is in the genes. She just displayed it at such an early age. When I was her age, what I would do was make sure I locked the door for sure. And then, even though I’ve seen with my own two eyes that the door was indeed locked, I would still lock it. Not once, not twice but several times. Just to be really sure. And know for certain that burglars or zombies or murderers won’t be able to go in.

But that is not paranoia. That is obsessive-compulsive disorder, as I’ve learned later in life. All those glitches in the gene pool. *shakes head*

Yesterday’s Headline: The Epic Fail Series, Part One

Learn to laugh at your mistakes.
Learn to laugh at your mistakes! 🙂

I didn’t know what possessed me, striking this big fat straw on the cover of the roasted milk tea I bought for lunch. I was on the escalator and, believing that sometimes time is gold, I thought to seize every second. So while on the oh-so-slow escalator, I sliced the straw through the plastic cover. Only to find out that the straw didn’t actually make it. The milk tea did, though. It oozed out from the small hole I managed to idiotically make on its thin plastic cover. It dripped down my left foot. FAIL. I had to go to the nearest restroom just to wipe the mess I made. Is this what seven hours’ worth of sleep do to you?

And then. AND THEN. A few hours later after that, I accidentally clicked the “call” button found in my office’s private messaging system. And guess who I just called? One of the bosses. I wanted to:

a) run around the room , jump up and down and tear my hair out from embarrassment
b) make the ground beneath me just open up and swallow me whole… without a trace

But of course this is reality. So What happened was this: I just stared at the screen as the monitor indicated “calling [insert name of boss]” because really, it was all I can do at that moment of sheer panic and pure embarrassment. Luckily, my fingers had more sense than my brain. It hit the cancel button while I sat there, frozen.

Moral of the story: Seven hours’ worth of sleep is not enough. Go for seven hours and a half, just to be safe.

image source: Chapendra

And the Weekend Draws Ever So Near

"That's Funny"
"That's Funny!"

So! Christmas is nearing, 2012 is nearing and I still haven’t done anything worth noting as my “Claim to Fame.” However, I never run out of not-so-stellar moments. Allow me to embarrass myself:

1. I have been walking along the office hallway half-asleep because I absolutely cannot help it. I am such a sleepyhead this week. And yes, my eyes were closed while walking. And I damn near collided with this guy who was turning round the corner. My eyes flew open only because I heard him make this sound that was somewhere between surprise and panic and laughter.

2. The seemingly neverending search for My Perfect Coffee can now be juxtaposed with my love life: They are both pretty much something to be dismayed about.

3. I know I’m supposed to know a lot about websites and coding and all that stuff but sometimes, I have no clue what I’m supposed to do. It takes me a couple of tries before grasping the concept. I get blindsided and feel along the walls and then fall flat on my face.

4. It was only quite recently that I found out I accidentally added in Twitter one of the company’s bosses. Back then, I thought I was adding one of my many crushes. The Twitter user had the same name as my crush and I thought those three letters in his username meant a state in America. Said crush had just left for America. Thinking I put two and two together, I started to follow the Twitter user. Then it turns out he is someone else and he’s a boss in the same company I work for! The world. It shrinks every second.

That being said and changing topic: You guys! I found a new upcoming horror film which I will blog about soon. Yay!

image source: ehpien