I’m off for the weekend.

and I could see myself lounging around like a hippo for 3 whole days. wake up 30 minutes past midnight, zombie-walk to the freezer and grab a 3 foot nutrient-filled-vanilla-coated-cookies ‘n cream- choco-fudge ice cream for an early breakfast. life could never be greater- Unless you  purchased a full bed from walmart, that needs assembling.

last week we decided to buy a new bed for the guest room in our brand new apartment. Somehow the idea of moving into a new place  really made an impact on  both of us that  seeing the  room half filled with boxes,unwanted clothes, pair-less shoes,a barrel of toxic waste and some old used tires  was unbearable.

So Jen, the Shop Guru, and  my mom, hit the web to search for the coolest neon- colored- full bed ever.

I’m not a connoisseur in bed mattresses or anything but I’ve always had this idea that beds are for comfort. soft and fluffy. simple. and parts shouldn’t  just fall off when two  100- pound adults decide to jump on them  on a boring Friday night.

before the weekend ended, we have cleaned the room and made ready for the newewst member of our small family. I took out the trash, piled boxes, hand-picked bazillion crumbs off the carpet (since we don’t have a vacuum), eradicated ants, stray horses, guinea pigs.

By monday, UPS called me to bring the package in. what I thought was a full stuffed bed with pillows,  inviting blankets with Canon playing in the background were 3 boxes and a mile long instruction list on how to assemble 6 planks of wood, 89 screws, 52 knots using an inch sized screw driver. it was like boyscout all over again.

IT’S A RIP OFF!  this was nowhere near  the picture they showed. there it was standing and firm and well lighted while these are all wood!After 16 hours of studying the manual(which translates all other languages aside English) we were able to holster it all in, we, as in Jen attaching all the screws and putting them all together while i do the most difficult manly job of internalizing the complex structural schematics.


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Its great to be back here again. Its been pretty hectic this past months with the wedding and changing jobs and moving apartments. and finally, it seems like the dust are slowly settling down, just enough to have a breather.

Thank God.

Well, it seems like i have enough time today so I might put up some long over-due pictures from the past 3 months.. maybe a few will do.

ever since the first kiss, a kiss on her forehead is still one of her favorites

we had to wait for a few minutes for the right sunlight so we started playing in the water

the grass and meadow was great that day..it felt so soft. this was taken in calabasa where the kardashians live.wooot woot

she looks so comfortable here. i dont know but the grass and the wind and her top makes it looks so korean-ish. *wink wink

karen and kathy were there all day to help us. a billion thanks guys. here they provided some extra spice and drama.taken while waiting for the tram

photographed by Andy Seo

heres some of the moments from the wedding 05.23.10

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we had so much fun. its weird when its your wedding coz you really cant eat that much … but i heard the food and those little food stuff were really nice too..

photographed by Andy Seo

i often wonder what makes the Most Interesting Guy In The World. why is he the way that he is.

its funny coz everyday, i open my web and find myself clicking interesting persons i know first. Celebrities, pretty people, fashion muguls. And it always makes me wonder what’s in their lives that makes them so damn interesting. what is in them that captivates empty souls like me?

we’ve heard of Justin Bieber getting famous on Youtube, the pretty Alodia striking inter-galactic fame through dressing up(Cosplay) and the up and coming, my favorite, Pomplamoose(with the soap). Far from plain ordinary, but they used to be. They used to be just the other person sitting beside you in class, or the one in the back flicking guitar sounds. We used to be better than them in math; used to share our lunch with; beat them in basketball.  even borrowed my pen and never gave it back !!!! (cries in prolonged agony)

but that was then. And here they are now. *gains back composure*

Graceful as a swan. Apple of our eyes.

well, back to my question. is being interesting/famous/extraordinary require skill and extra talent? or can one be like “The Most Interesting Man in the World” who, though nameless, holds the world in his soft hands.

“His blood smells like cologne…He taught a horse to read his email for him… If he we’re to punch you in the face, you’d have to fight off the urge to thank him… Sharks have a week dedicated to him..He once taught a German Shepard how to bark in Russian… His organ donor card also includes his beard”

Like the old Greek-Chinese-Budhist and partly Filipino saying, the greater things in life are small *woop*

I was out with the fiance the other day to pick out my tux-an equally challenging task.  

 To allow ample amounts of time to prepare myself emotionally, I had to cut off my working hours early to reserve myself for the rest of the day.

  Yes, this was planned  months ago, but this is Tuxedo day, you see. Women, on their part, have numerous days assigned for fitting and refitting their mile long gowns, not to mention, the bazillion hours of phone calls spent with girlfriends discussing the pros and cons of each and every gown in bridal magazines, while I, the lone groom, only have 1 day- ow, make that just 30 minutes, to be exact. 

This is, of course, one of those crucial times in marriage, along with wedding pictorials, family reunions and child support payments where a considerately productive groom-to-be or any real man, in that matter, are expected to perform exceedingly well…or at least, way up above  average.

 you understand the scenario I’m in  right? the level of pressure?

If there was a time in my life  I’d  wish I could be as suave as 007, this would be it. Go in the store, flip a cigar from my side pocket, say some french clothing-language that only me and the expert tailor comprehends; sit at the counter and leisurely  drop a killer “one liner, “Martini; shaken, not stirred”.

Unfortunately, like the realities of  espionage and make-believe movies, I was the clumsy green ogre that day, stumbling over a shelf of wedding brochures as we stepped in.

I always thought choosing tuxedos were easy. I mean, there are only 2 available colors to choose from for crying out loud and the designs, well, aside from worrying if its gonna be double-breasted or not the suits look basically the same.

but it turns out, when your inside a den filled with  black and white customary drapes for aspiring husbands, the similarities evaporate and now you face  endless variety of exquisitely designed tuxedos,silk, non-silk ,ties, bow ties, bent collars, straightened collars,  or whatever else they are.

Choices which are  too complex for my already shrinking pea-sized brain to decide on.

 I heard that one way of chosing the best one, something that’s truly YOU would be to close your eyes and listen to your heart decide.

 Well, I don’t exactly know how the heart tells you , maybe in a quick extra beat or a skip but walking inside the corridors filled with tagged coats, I had a feeling my heart decided to abandon me on this, or maybe missed its still small voice  for all I heard were my shoes squeeking on the well polished floor and terror-strickened soul screaming,  drowning from confusion and indecisiveness. 

I traversed each aisle aimlessly, touching each possible coat, hoping, nay, praying that one enchanted tux would connect with me.

 but there was silence. there were no sparks.

Fortunately, the fiance was there to lend me her expertise, holding my hand the whole time. Snapping me back from my hysteria. And without breaking a sweat, even with eyes closed she, in slow-motion, extended her finger and rested them gently on a black, double breasted, polyester tuxedo. 

Then the room glistened. 

I swear I heard angels singing right there.

I wanted to be famous.  To be in the movies. On billboards. On commercials. I wanted to do a slo-mo, with my hair gliding gracefully with the wind as I turn to face the camera with my close up. I wanted to be a celebrity.

I remember when I was  at grade school, when the “Ang TV “, a tv show with children and young teens as their main characters  first came out, I was ecstatic to join.

Everyday, I would stand in front of my parent’s gigantic mirror and tried my best to master my cutest and sun-stopping smile. Playing out in mind possible scenes for my soon-to-be audition – An abandoned child; a knight fighting for the love of his maiden who was transformed into  a slimy ogre-looking fly;   a prince surviving a fatal wound  after slaying an evil mage; or a hunk gasping for air, almost drowning while saving a helpless half-naked beauty from the abyss; or a talented actor pretending to be surprised and in shock after winning a Grammy.

I can give you a Kristine Hermosa crying scene from “Pangako sa ‘Yo” just to avoid being spanked by my aunt for misbehaving and get away with it. The tears would be so genuine and convincing that she’d feel torn and bring us out for a 2-peso ice cream to apologize for  raising her voice.

This was my forte. Dramatic Arts.

But while acting was second to breathing for me. Smiling wasn’t. It was kryptonite for my Clark Kent. You see, as a 9-year-old prodigy like me, this was my sole artistic flaw -my Achilles’ heel per se.

And as an avid movie critic I could say that having a prominent smile is fundamental and not to mention critical for a promising actor. I wont even dare count the millions of  promotions John Pratt had on ads like Close up toothpaste for his “well shown-teeth” smile.

Sadly, it would be years till I can parade the various dimensions of my smile. Years before I can awe the world with its grandeur.  So  while I forge and wait, I  painstakingly watched Maxine Magalona, Kaye Abad, Patrick Garcia, Rico Yan take up the roles I was born to do.

By the time my facial muscles finally submitted to my bidding, accede to  my persuasion and  formed a beautiful grin, I was 20 years late . By this time, the Ang TV show was long gone, actors of my age have left the limelight and started to live as adults. The nearest media exposure I could attain at this age would be  from news reporters interviewing for political poll ratings or a water shortage complaint. None for commercials. No more close-ups. No more center stage.

But Fame, I’d say, is not  bound on the limits of “acting” alone. It flourishes from academics, flexibility in sports, glass-breaking high-pitched voices, or acne-free porcelain skin. Even a boring, normal life written in a well-organized and entertaining larger-than-life blog could be one’s long-awaited break…

..oh, wait, does that really work or is it just me wishing?

I’m a celebrity… please take me!

For almost a month now , my struggle to gain supremacy toward my anatomy has been nothing but a failing quest. An elusive end.

Maybe it’s because it’s too ambitious of a goal for me or I have such a weak resolve.

Like Adam, I find myself unable to resist Eve’s  forbidden apple(literally).

I tried almost everything I could. From eating all-protein like lions , eating leaves and grass like goats( but this one I had to stop within a week out of fear of growing horns ), gulping algae like Ariel( little mermaid), running around the Rose Bowl( tried it for a day), biking to work, even the unimaginable, not eating chocolates(?). But  after all these unsuccessful efforts I remedied to check my weight  to at least once a week now rather than monitoring it daily to somehow cushion the blow of the slight 5 lbs increase in my body mass(ouch) and avoid bingeing, a rebound, brought about by mild depression.

Recently, my girlfriend is into Korean telenovelas.

She’s so into them that she started downloading korean applications on her itouch just to immerse herself with their culture and her korean infatuations.  Well, just a week ago, while spending QT, by QT, I mean watching her korean english subbed shows in youtube together, I had a sudden revelation. Why not incorporate my girlfriend’s obsession to my ever-failing quest?

here’s the logic: 

What does Asians, no, let’s just say Koreans, Chinese and Japanese have in common? yes. They are petite, THIN, healthy. and  what is it that they eat vigorously, their main diet? the secret where they attribute their flexible skinny bodies?yes again. NOODLES.

Now according to my deep analysis, if I can just start with that diet, I would be inches away from maintaining a thinner more agile structure. ka-chingggg!!

And so I run to the nearest seafood mart and bought myself dozens of them quick noodles, the ones they showed where cute Koreans guys from “Boys over Flowers” are eating.

And true enough, after I managed to operate the chopsticks to work and started sipping through the soup and noodles, I could immediately feel its effects encapsulating my still-flubby body. After a few sips, my stomach was already filled with a mixture of  fresh air, spicy soup and wiggly noodles. I’ve never felt this healthy before and now I feel full. no longer hungry like i was 2 minutes ago.

Maybe the noodles grant me an illusion of  being filled, but so far it works. for as long as it helps me avoid eating gluttonously and not feel weak from hunger at the same time then it’s alright.

for the sake of transient beauty I’ll do it all.