Gummi Bear Army

Gummi bears are the only thing I’d eat as movie theater snacks. Popcorn is a standard, of course. But nothing beats biting off those jelly limbs one by one until the onlt thing left is its squishy little ear-less head, screaming for its life in the midst of the darkness. So while I was trolling around the internet, I found this gem.

Gummi bears assemble!

This is Spartaaaaa!

[The rest of the set HERE.]

I don’t know whether to start marching or start munching!

*drools*

If You Wish To Be Removed From This List

by Jeanne Marie Beaumont

You must be more careful. You must wash your hands up to your elbows and dry them with a linen towel. You must say please. You must swallow your lumpy medicine. You must draw a card and return it to the deck. You must deny deny deny. You must put it in writing. You must write your name on a cup and pee in it. You must read Moby Dick. You must read Moby Dick again. You must perform forty hours of public penance. You must eat your spinach and finish your milk. You must shave. You must do windows. You must name names. You must demonstrate your ability to parallel park. You must share. You must lock the door and leave the key under the mat. You must change diapers. You must sift the dry ingredients and fold them into the wet ingredients. You must learn to work around the pain. You must drop a sack of unmarked bills in the trash bin by the sweetgum tree. You must forget what you just saw. You must produce your passport when asked: now. You must slip into something more uncomfortable. You must revise. You must, for your own protection, put on the blindfold. You must reset your clock. You must let the dog lie at the foot of the bed. You must pay the piper and leave a generous tip; use exact change. You must burn the dark letters. You must bail some water. You must forgive your mother. You must march to the river’s edge. You must stop crying. You must give away your possessions to the poor. You must soak in bleach. You must pledge allegiance. You must summon the energy to clear the last hurdle. You must be very very brave. You must click your heels three times. Wish to be removed from this list, moved from this list, emptied of all words.

♥

Lovely, isn’t it?

‘We Need Fathers To Step Up’ – Obama

[A repost from here]

Two days before the inauguration, PARADE published a letter from Barack Obama to his daughters about what he hoped for them and all the children of America. The letter attracted international attention. On this Father’s Day, we asked the President to reflect on what fatherhood means to him.

As the father of two young girls who have shown such poise, humor, and patience in the unconventional life into which they have been thrust, I mark this Father’s Day—our first in the White House—with a deep sense of gratitude. One of the greatest benefits of being President is that I now live right above the office. I see my girls off to school nearly every morning and have dinner with them nearly every night. It is a welcome change after so many years out on the campaign trail and commuting between Chicago and Capitol Hill.

But I observe this Father’s Day not just as a father grateful to be present in my daughters’ lives but also as a son who grew up without a father in my own life. My father left my family when I was 2 years old, and I knew him mainly from the letters he wrote and the stories my family told. And while I was lucky to have two wonderful grandparents who poured everything they had into helping my mother raise my sister and me, I still felt the weight of his absence throughout my childhood.

As an adult, working as a community organizer and later as a legislator, I would often walk through the streets of Chicago’s South Side and see boys marked by that same absence—boys without supervision or direction or anyone to help them as they struggled to grow into men. I identified with their frustration and disengagement—with their sense of having been let down.

In many ways, I came to understand the importance of fatherhood through its absence—both in my life and in the lives of others. I came to understand that the hole a man leaves when he abandons his responsibility to his children is one that no government can fill. We can do everything possible to provide good jobs and good schools and safe streets for our kids, but it will never be enough to fully make up the difference.

That is why we need fathers to step up, to realize that their job does not end at conception; that what makes you a man is not the ability to have a child but the courage to raise one.

As fathers, we need to be involved in our children’s lives not just when it’s convenient or easy, and not just when they’re doing well—but when it’s difficult and thankless, and they’re struggling. That is when they need us most.

And it’s not enough to just be physically present. Too often, especially during tough economic times like these, we are emotionally absent: distracted, consumed by what’s happening in our own lives, worried about keeping our jobs and paying our bills, unsure if we’ll be able to give our kids the same opportunities we had.

Our children can tell. They know when we’re not fully there. And that disengagement sends a clear message—whether we mean it or not—about where among our priorities they fall.

So we need to step out of our own heads and tune in. We need to turn off the television and start talking with our kids, and listening to them, and understanding what’s going on in their lives.

We need to set limits and expectations. We need to replace that video game with a book and make sure that homework gets done. We need to say to our daughters, Don’t ever let images on TV tell you what you are worth, because I expect you to dream without limit and reach for your goals. We need to tell our sons, Those songs on the radio may glorify violence, but in our house, we find glory in achievement, self-respect, and hard work.

We need to realize that we are our children’s first and best teachers. When we are selfish or inconsiderate, when we mistreat our wives or girlfriends, when we cut corners or fail to control our tempers, our children learn from that—and it’s no surprise when we see those behaviors in our schools or on our streets.

But it also works the other way around. When we work hard, treat others with respect, spend within our means, and contribute to our communities, those are the lessons our children learn. And that is what so many fathers are doing every day—coaching soccer and Little League, going to those school assemblies and parent-teacher conferences, scrimping and saving and working that extra shift so their kids can go to college. They are fulfilling their most fundamental duty as fathers: to show their children, by example, the kind of people they want them to become.

It is rarely easy. There are plenty of days of struggle and heartache when, despite our best efforts, we fail to live up to our responsibilities. I know I have been an imperfect father. I know I have made mistakes. I have lost count of all the times, over the years, when the demands of work have taken me from the duties of fatherhood. There were many days out on the campaign trail when I felt like my family was a million miles away, and I knew I was missing moments of my daughters’ lives that I’d never get back. It is a loss I will never fully accept.

But on this Father’s Day, I think back to the day I drove Michelle and a newborn Malia home from the hospital nearly 11 years ago—crawling along, miles under the speed limit, feeling the weight of my daughter’s future resting in my hands. I think about the pledge I made to her that day: that I would give her what I never had—that if I could be anything in life, I would be a good father. I knew that day that my own life wouldn’t count for much unless she had every opportunity in hers. And I knew I had an obligation, as we all do, to help create those opportunities and leave a better world for her and all our children.

On this Father’s Day, I am recommitting myself to that work, to those duties that all parents share: to build a foundation for our children’s dreams, to give them the love and support they need to fulfill them, and to stick with them the whole way through, no matter what doubts we may feel or difficulties we may face. That is my prayer for all of us on this Father’s Day, and that is my hope for this nation in the months and years ahead.

Helping the world, one email at a time

Dear Uneditedmara,
I’ve been suffering serious bouts of PMS (prementrual sydromes, for all our menfolks out there) lately and it’s just taken a toll on my boyfriend. I find that I’ve snapped at him for the tiniest things like being unable to read my mind or fly. I don’t want to lose him but he said if I am irrational one more time and if I don’t answer him in words, opting for sobs and hiccups, that he will definitely think about leaving me. HELP!

Bloody hell,
Kristy
—

Dear Kristy,
I TOTALLY feel your pain. And I know that there are only three words that can battle the nightmare that is PMS – RYAN. REYNOLDS. SHIRTLESS.

Always glad to be of ANY help,
Uneditedmara

(and JustJared.com)

The Viking and His Hoard

The Viking came from a long string of friends (or non-friends) who has surprisingly endeared his presence into the circle of people I value. A self-confessed manwhore, he has regaled us with stories of carnal conquests without even batting an eyelash and revealed details of such conquests in a truly vivid and descriptive manner. There is also the matter of his fondness for Cannabis sativa which really just sends his already-weird sense of thought into another psychedelic dimension. And let’s not forget how he loves to argue and debate and masticate issues well into the night (and VERY early morning) until you are exhausted beyond belief. For all the things that irritate, annoy, disgust, nauseate, and offend me about his nature, he has wormed his way into one of the people that I believe has become indispensable.

Through The Viking, I have met all sorts of people from different walks of life. He, a foreigner, has amassed more friends in his two-year stay in this country than I ever have. There have been artists and photographers, models and singers, teachers and rockers, Poker players and dancers (I assume of the exotic kind), virgins and nymphos, the prudes and the prouds, and many other assortment of oddballs and nutcases, all with their quirks and idiosyncrasies.

Just like The Peruvian Princess and Dutchboy, I have met and learned so much from every new friend that I have made through them. Although I may not necessarily agree with their beliefs or share their obsession and enthusiasm for a particular vice, I can certainly appreciate the difference of the lifestyle they lead, as compared to mine. There’s The Poker Master and his lovely girlfriend, The Rockstar Dad and his pregnant girlfriend, Friend Who Got Busted For Buying Weed, The Supplier (of, yes, you guessed it, weed), The Couchsufing Canadian (and through her, The Football Coach), The Gaychitect, and so many others.

Vend-tia at Total with The Poker Master

The Poker Master, The Viking, Friend Who Got Busted For Buying Weed

The Canadian Couchsurfer and Friend (lol)

The adventures that I’ve had with these people, dropping The Viking off (and picking him up SEVERAL TIMES) at the airport after his missed his flights (PLURAL), staying up all night playing cards at a gas station, getting a lesson in seduction and the fine art of trashy clothing, closing Tabu in the wee hours (drunkenly) singing to heart’s content, is only the tip of the iceberg. Sure, some nights have just started and ended with steady drinking at some dive bar or blazing it up in someone’s room trying to hide the smell from their mother, but it’s those moments that make a friendship. It’s when you actually take time and just hang with a person that you see what they’re all about. I’ve listened to their versions of love and life and, truth be told, some of those confessions have helped me along as well. Of course it’s not in the grand way where you wake up and you’re suddenly a different person. But I know it and I feel it that when I’m with them, those ideologies and thoughts have a certain kind of effect on me. The kind that’s barely noticeable, hovering just beneath the surface of stark reality. I can easily say that knowing The Viking (and his merry band of misfits) has changed me. Some people *coughungratefulgitcough* are just too scared of touching someone’s life. Isn’t that what we all want anyways? To make a difference .. to be a difference to at least ONE person? Why such fear of leaving your mark? Just because you leave it with ONE person, doesn’t make the experience any less. Sometimes it’s that one great thing they leave away with.

The Viking has brought all these people and all these ideas into my life and I could not be more grateful. Though the relationship started out as casual, making “whatever happens, happens” plans, it has grown into something more. I wouldn’t go as far as to say that this is something huge and enormous but this is something that I want to pay attention to. The relationship has become important, just as my friends’ happiness have become important to me. And though I’ve already seen The Viking off (a couple of times, to be exact), I know that, unlike some relationships *coughungratefulgitcough*, I wouldn’t want to write off this one. The Viking and I have been through A LOT (hudathunk?) and it’s surprising how much I let him know me. The Me that only my closest friends know. The Me that even I’m scared to face every now and then. I know I’ll forever be grateful for him and the good times we’ve had together, from Flat Eric to Speed Dating rehearsals to hypotethical teleportation papers to playing middle man in an already heated scenario to steady beers and a fat joint. Who knows? Saying goodbye could just be the precursor to the adventure of a lifetime. Maybe I’ll even carry on the adik wave all the way to Sweden and return the favor. Sounds good, ja? Ja, definitivt.

I feel fat.

We have the same birthday.

And she just gave birth less than a year ago.

Why does life seem so unfair right about now?

(images courtesy of JustJared.com)

United Nations

Meeting new people is always awkward and exhilarating. I love the fact that I am challenged to find something in common with them or how I could get along with someone not so agreeable. If anything, meeting new people is a study of what kind of person I have become and how I cope with my ever-changing surroundings. Don’t get me wrong, I love meeting new people just to get to know them but for me, there’s more to it than an exchange of cultures, ideas, and moments. Everything about it excites me, keeps me on my toes. I’ve met more people this year than I ever have in the decades that I’ve walked this planet (save for Ateneo OrSem) and the time I’ve spent with them has made me feel grateful that there are other interesting people out there, outside of my own comfortable circle.

I met Dutchboy and Dutchman at a bar in AVenue. From what I recall, it was a Friday night and Bebot Angel (along with Japayuki) called for a drinking session. I wanted to bail because I was dressed so shabbily and I knew they had a penchant for going to posh bars where there was a dress code and a very judgmental bouncer at the door. Bebot Angel reassured me that this was just going to laid back and steady. I agreed and met her at a Starbucks somewhere with my huge RED Liverpool laptop bag in tow. We ended up in Attica, eating and driking the night away. Dutchboy bumped into (a very tipsy) me on the “dancefloor” and started dancing alongside, doing some sort of “dance” that can only be descibed as “monkey flinging poo”. I don’t remember quite well how I got introduced to The Dutchman but apparently I did and by the end of the night, we all were exchanging numbers. During the course of this new-found friendship, we have since invited Dutchman and Dutchboy to have lunch in Tagaytay and a little sightseeing. On that day, we met the Peruvian Princess who worked with Dutchboy.

L-R: Dutchman, Dutchboy, Peruvian Princess, Clinically Insane

(photo taken from Clinically Insane’s Facebook)

Through Peruvian Princess, I have met the rest of their international co-workers and we’ve hung out a couple of times to drink or hang at their pad or go to dance class on Saturdays. Yes, she got me to commute and then pay someone to hurt me and make me sweat.  He he he ~

L-R: Ms. Poland, Dutchboy, Mr. Canada, Ms. Solvakia, Peruvian Princess

(photo taken from Peruvian Princess’s Facebook)

Peruvian Princess with Ms. Romania and Ms. Canada

(taken from Ms. Romania and Ms. Canada’s Facebooks)

At first, it was kinda tough to get along with them since they were all from different backgrounds to begin with and that they all work at the same place. So pretty much, I was left up to listening to them talk about their day at the office or what’s been happening in their personal lives. Being the talker, this was no easy feat but it was also kinda refreshing (in a frustrating kind of way) because I was forced to be the listener for once. And you know what? It ain’t so bad.

First gear

Like I said, I haven’t been updating my blog in a while because mostly it’s just tiny moments that can be best summed up in 140 characters. I microblog for my own peace of mind. I feel that what I had for lunch or why I’m using the orange highlighter instead of the yellow doesn’t merit an actual blog post. I mean, unless you, my reader, are interested in that sort of shit, then it will go into my Twitter. But I think I need to exercise my writing skills beacuse they are getting rusty and I think that the tiny details in my life DO make up the whole thing. You have been forewarned that there may be a barrage of quick posts in the coming days. I shall try to import 140 characters into a decent blog entry. Bear with me through this phase.

A full plate

I haven’t posted anything decent in a while because things have been going on. A couple of newly-found friends have gone back to their respective countries and the Philippines just became a little quieter because of their absence.

Work, as usual, is shit. And I really want to get out of the career rut that I’ve been stuck in for the past three years. And what I need is more inspiration, a strong will, and a chance to prove myself.

Personal life has been rough, to say the least, but I’m slowly finding my footing. I guess the changes we want and hope for don’t really come in one fall swoop. They kinda have to happen gradually so I’m trying my best to not be impatient and have more courage.

As for everyone else in my life, well, let’s just say that things have progressed the last time. Sometimes I don’t even notice the changes as they happen but once I’ve opened my eyes to them, I wonder how the hell could I have missed such an event.

I find that my thoughts can be best summed up in 140 characters or less. That’s why I’m on Twitter most of the time now. I never thought I’d see the day, but there it is. And here we are. Follow me there, if you want to. I’d be most honored if you did.

I’m inexplicably tired. With life. So I’m sorry if I don’t leave you entertained or filled with hope or even slapped with sarcasm. I simply am uninspired. And it is a painful state to be in.