18 03 2009

A short-haired chocolate brown dachshund

One of my greatest pet peeves is hearing people mispronounce this particular breed of dog’s name. The Dachshund. It’s not dash-yand! It’s not das-shund! And it’s NOT dutch-hound for crying out loud!

I’m a true-blue dog lover. I have a purebred German Shepherd Dog named Sasha. She’s 11 months old. I also have 2 adult mongrels and 1 mongrel pup. Ever since I was a kid, I have always had a dog. My father wasn’t exactly into purebreds but we’ve always had dogs of mixed breed in the house.

Last year, I was invited (they didn’t have a choice! I was always in the vet clinic!) to join a local canine club. They needed an extra pair of hands to help organize their dog show, that’s why. I was bored and I wanted to see the dogs in the city gathered in one place so I readily agreed! I prepared the program, the certificates, the awards and what-nots. Baptism of fire! And all in less than one week! I also had to be the emcee. Now, I’m a behind-the-scenes person. I hate being in the spotlight, much less talking on a microphone, with people who don’t know me. Perhaps it’s because I get the kick out of laughing at people’s mistakes when they do the thing that I was supposed to do then. Well, don’t we all have guilty pleasures? It’s easier to see other people’s mistakes, right? Come on, admit it! Get real! LOL.

But I had a mission. I wanted to let people know how Dachshund is pronounced. I asked one of the vets in the clinic where I used to hang out how he pronounces Dachshund and he told me that he didn’t use it because people would always look at him funny every time he did. So he opted to just use the more popular way of pronouncing it—which is really not doing anybody any good!

Not a single doxie was pre-registered. But I was really hoping that on the day itself, there’d be walk-in registrants. To my utter dismay, none of them came.

So I hope I can still rectify whatever errors in pronunciation we have when it comes to this cute doggies by blogging all about it. We owe it to them. Really! As I said in one of my older posts, the best way to show respect is to pronounce one’s name correctly—or in this case, its breed’s name.

dachshund — dak sund; däks-ˌhu̇nd DAHKS-hund

It is an Anglicized German word. According to Merriam-Webster, it comes from the German words: Dachs (pronounced as Daks) and Hund (pronounced as Hund, like gunned, stunned). Dachs means badger. Hund means dog.

Spread the word! If people look at you funny and you are not comfortable in being the object of such, just say Doxie!


Die Hard 4.5–One More Spoof, Bisaya Edition

25 10 2007

Yet another spoof from the same funny Ozamiznon


May be offensive to some.  This is just a spoof and should not be taken as anything otherwise. 

This is in Cebuano and I believe I can’t do justice to it by translating it to any other language so…

Watch at your own risk.

Troy–Yet Another Spoof, Bisaya Edition

25 10 2007


May be offensive to some.  This is just a spoof and should not be taken as anything otherwise. 

This is in Cebuano and I believe I can’t do justice to it by translating it to any other language so…

Watch at your own risk.

Harry Potter–Bisaya Edition

25 10 2007

This is a Harry Potter spoof from a fellow Ozamiznon.  Way to go, Bai.  Hehehe.  LMAO gyud.


May be offensive to some.  This is just a spoof and should not be taken as anything otherwise. 

This is in Cebuano and I believe I can’t do justice to it by translating it to any other language so…

Watch at your own risk.

Working My Arse Off

21 10 2007

I’ve been unusually busy the past few days.  I do manage to go to sleep—the kind where my body just surrenders itself to the bed and then to slumber—at around half past five in the morning, at least for the past few days.  As if programmed by a Wake Up button, my system automatically reboots at around eight in the morning and my arm automatically extends itself so my hand could grab my phone and check the time, which is of course, always a few minutes shy of or a few minutes over eight.  Then I squint and look at my notebook’s screen to see how many new messages have come in while I was catching a few winks.  I can now make out from a 6-meter distance when I have an important message.  Usually if the new messages were folders filled with paperwork, they’re usually already a meter long up my desk but since they’re just in my inbox, I could say that I can measure them by the inches from afar and they’re always around six inches.  So I creep up to my chair and try to force myself to really wake up.  I check the e-mails, answer a few of them.  Ignore the YM messages and write on the whiteboard the things that I need to finish in a few hours.  And then I slump my still tired body to bed. 

I don’t go back to sleep.  My mom would come in after a few minutes to say that if I will eat at all, food’s ready.  And I would grunt in response.  Talk about ugly sounds. 

So I stay where I am until the image of my whiteboard embeds itself into my memory lane.  Just plain work waiting to be finished.  Sigh.  So I wash my face, brush my teeth, gargle oral antiseptic, change into my house clothes and go down to wave at my dad whose door is always open—he’s hardly mobile due to a cerebrovascular accident (CVA) more commonly known as stroke so he’s always in bed—play with the dogs, clean up their mess, check the beetle, stand motionless by the door and stare blankly at nowhere until my mom asks me something, head back to my room, slump back to bed, take a shower, change into a fresh set of clothes and whatever else—not necessarily in that order. 

But I guess I can’t complain.  In November last year, while I was living my own life, my brother, who I haven’t spoken with for over a year because of our personal differences, patched things up with me, or so I thought.  Well, he needed my “help” because he felt something physiologically incorrect in his body and he didn’t want to alarm anybody else so he went to the person that he knows rarely gets “alarmed” over any emergency–ME!  So, I took him to a hospital in Cebu, got him one of the best doctors whose specialization covered his “illness” and so after that, we became “close” again and he went back home with the assurance that he’s ok.  Then came December.  My sister had a general checkup in May and was given a clean bill of health but in July, she felt a lump in her left breast.  In August, she had a fine needle aspiration biopsy and was advised to have a frozen section biopsy because of suggestive mammary carcinoma, or breast cancer.  Typical of us Filipinos, they put it off.  When I learned about it, I went home and almost dragged her by the hair so she could have that biopsy.  True enough, she had breast cancer and after two days, she had a radical mastectomy leaving her breastless, well, at least in the left.  So until April, I accompanied her to her chemotherapy sessions.  The biopsy after the mastectomy was great.  It showed that all cancer cells were removed during the surgery but she had to go through chemo sessions just to be doubly sure that the chances of recurrence won’t be that high. 

In March, my boyfriend of over five years and I broke up in a very life-draining way.  I suspended the mourning period until my sister was not with me in Cebu because I believed that I could mope and cry my heart out in due time.  And that’s what I did for a whole month from April to May.  Then I packed my things and headed back home to “forget” and to start anew.  And then my sister, who’s a nurse based in NY, announced that she’s coming home for a short short visit.  And since no one at home cared enough to clean up the house, I did most of the scrubbing and whatnots on all fours, contacted carpenters, plumbers, etc to fix everything that needed fixing.  July came and so did my sister.  Then they left. 

Needless to say, the freelancer moi gave up a lot of projects from November up to around July this year.  So I started to contact my old clients and checked if work was available.  I also placed bids in some freelancer haven of a website to get new projects.  Work started to come in slowly in August and September and now, God is good, I’m swamped.  So yeah, I’ve been really busy that I couldn’t even find time to flirt that much anymore.  Jeez!  The only time I get to touch myself even, is when I take a bath or after I pee!  But like any other woman, I don’t really feel that lacking. 

So yeah, I don’t make sense anymore.  But I needed to write something to keep me sane.  there you go.


5 10 2007

I officially pin the JOLOGS star on my forehead. 

Ever since I got home (kinda home) in Ozamiz, I’ve done nothing but


work my ass off —prostitute myself to various companies in faraway lands, write for a travel-related website, get into my telemarketing garb and sweet-talk gatekeepers so I can talk to decision makers, call small-scale businesses and offer this and that

smoke my lungs out

watch TV

read blogs and write a few entries every now and then

read all the entertainment sites that I can find—my favorite?  the Philippine Entertainment Portal and Abante when Alfie Lorenzo’s around

play with myself, ahem, I mean play Capitalism II (yeah, I’m boring) or GTA San Andreas or Jeopardy or Red Alert 2 or WarCraft III by myself. LOL.

There are nights when I do all of them at the same time.  Yeah!  I’m your ultimate poster girl for multitasking. 





talk to my mom and laugh our guts out together

play with the dogs, bathe them when I am in the mood for some serious wet sessions!

lecture (naks) the househelp—I have OCD, remember?  I get ticked off with misaligned books in the shelves, drinking glasses that look frosted because they weren’t washed the proper way (you should wash drinking glasses with your bare hands NEVER with scouring pads or sponge), the other day’s leftover that are going to be today’s leftovers as well and all that jazz.

smoke my lungs out

read pinoy showbiz links


same as any other weekday/weeknight routine save for StarTalk!!!


same as any other weekday/weeknight routine save for Showbiz Central!!!

I watch the news but I think the highlight of my weeks is reading pinoy showbiz juicy tidbits…

Ask me about what’s the latest on pinoy showbiz.  I’ll probably even give you a backgrounder!  OMG! 

Oh well, this is my life.  Hehe. 

On Singlehood and Aging

27 09 2007

I am 27 years old. 




Happy?  Getting there. 

Getting married?  No. 

Batang Buotan started the whole talk about getting hitched.  Now I’m thinking about the whole getting married rush that somehow resembles that of Christmas shopping. 

It started early the other day (um, noontime in most people’s world), when I remembered that my cousin passed the nursing licensure exam and I haven’t even bothered to congratulate him.  Since we don’t really exchange messages, I texted his mom, who, when I was in college, acted like my other cool mom.  I congratulated her–remember the TV ad that says, “dahil napalaki akong mabuti, dapat daw pong kilalanin kung sinong nanay ko!” sensya nag di sakto. 

Me: Mommy, ngayon lang po ako nakapag-text, sowee.  Congrats po, may nurse na kayo.  One down!  Hehe.

Mommy: Tnx, anak!  Yep, LA made it!  Nw binubuno nman revw NCLEX, hirap dw! Nov nxt yr, owen nman, civ. engg.  Eldest imee grad na?  Sbay kc cla LA ngcolege.

Me: Di pa po.  He transferred po kasi from UP to San Carlos then shifted pa from Bio to ECE, which is a 5-year course.  His younger sis po malamang sa March ga-graduate.  Nurse din po.  Kaya po yan ni LA, I’m sure.

Mommy: Ah ok.  Eh u ok klang? Wen kasal mo? Atend ako! hehehe

Me: La pa rin po akong naloko, mommy, after that stormy stormy 5-year thingie that I got out of.  Besides, I’m holed up in my room 24/7.  Si Mama lang palagi kong kausap.  I don’t go to their room that often eh kaya I don’t get to talk to Papa that much, although nag-gu-goodmorning ako from outside every time I wake up.  Hehe.  Chaka,  would you really recommend getting hitched?  Sus! Manonood na lang ako ng Startalk!  Hehe.

Mommy: Gud choice nt getting hitched just find right partner and loving loving only. Take care, love you.

Didn’t I say she’s cool?  She’s a general’s daughter who has seen a real toro in the 80s together with other St. Paul kolehiyalas.  Hehe.  I super love her. 

Anyways, I have always told my mother, since I was in high school, that I would never get married.  Three weddings happened at in succession sometime between 1992-1995 in the family.  There’s five of us.  Our eldest brother got married a hundred years ago before 1992.  So that leaves moi as the sole single member of the family.  I always tell my mom that I would never get married but live in sin for life. 

But you see, things don’t always go as planned.  People meet people.  Some of the people that we meet become our friends, some even become “more than friends” with us.  And when we get into relationships, we can’t help but think about the future.  My last boyfriend and I were headed there–or so I thought, no, that’s what he made me think even when we were first starting to profess love for each other (yuck!).  Five years and a few more months after, I finally realized that we were never going anywhere and the relationship was built on very weak foundations–fights, sex, alcohol and utter immorality.  I’m not a prude but my sensibilities do get offended every now and then.  And so I let go.  Well, I planned to.  I never realized that letting go of something that you have nurtured and gotten used to for half a decade is so hard.  They said that it takes at least two months for each year that you’re in a relationship to get over it when it’s over.  That gives me four more months.

It was not the wedding that I looked forward to, although I’d be lying if I’d say that I didn’t want to walk down the aisle in a fabulous white (or cream-colored) gown with a very long train.  But most importantly, I looked forward to “settling down” with my partner in a place that “we” own, and to buying things together, and perhaps starting a family together.  Gretchen Barreto said, “What she had was a wedding, but what I have with Tony is a marriage” in response to Lani Mercado‘s wish for her to “have a marriage” with Tonyboy Conjuangco in the height of their word war early this year.  The ceremony is not THAT important indeed.  While I’m not really for La Greta that time, I understood her. 

So there.  I’m not in a hurry and my relatives know better than to ask me about whos and whens.  My mom kids me about it but I never felt it was ever necessary to catch the train.  I can always walk, or wait for the next lifetime.  Even if it’ll take me over 10 years to get over my life-draining breakup, I’ll go through that.  And if somebody else comes along, and when I’m ready for a new relationship, I’ll make it sweeter the next time.  But never will I rush into getting married.  Annulment in this country is very expensive and if divorce gets adopted into the Family Law, I would not want to go through the ordeals of courtroom drama. 

One thing’s for sure, I will never get wed for the wrong reasons–financial, emotional, psychological, social, moral.  I will get married when I feel that I am ready–financially, emotionally, psychologically, socially, morally.  As a woman, I remember what Uma Thurman said in Oprah, when she talked about her painful separation with Ethan Hawke.  She said that women must be financially stable and independent because the hardest part about being in a relationship is when you can’t let go because you won’t know if you’ll be able to support yourself.  Much as I’d love to marry MONEY, I don’t want to be left wanting when it’s all gone and washed away. 

But well, as my aunt pointed out, I’ll just find the right partner and loving loving only!