Yes, it is. Think about it. When you’re happy, you know that one day, it’s all going to end. You can’t be happy forever.

 

Ha, ha. Made you think. ;)

 

When a game show asks questions during a segment, you would expect that the answers would at least be correct. After all, it’s the show’s writers making the questions – and they wouldn’t formulate questions that they can’t answer, would they?

 

But when a game show with millions of viewers such as Wowowee (no longer being aired) asks a question and provides a blatantly wrong answer, do the contestants have a right to file a complaint? Do they get a second chance to win what would have been theirs if the show didn’t mess up in the first place?

 

 

In one of the aired episodes of Wowowee, the following question was asked:

Ano ang mas mabigat sa dalawa, one ounce of cotton o one ounce of gold? (Which of the two is heavier, one ounce of cotton or one ounce of gold?)

• a. One ounce of cotton

• b. Parehas (Same)

• c. One ounce of gold

The contestants chose their answers by queuing up under the letter of their answer. I was expecting the line of contestants under the letter B*** to advance to the next stage. So I was pulling at my hair in outrage when Mr. Willie Revillame said that the correct answer was “Gold, letter C!!!”

 

In other words, the contestants who deserved to win the jackpot never even got a shot at it because the show made a mistake. Yes, it’s a given that people make mistakes. But the question is, in instances such as this one, are the contestants allowed another shot? Should they be happy with a consolation price for the inconvenience? Are there laws indicating what game show contestants can do?

 

I’m just as surprised that nobody – not anyone from the crew nor any of the hosts – noticed the flagrant error.

 

***Note: Just in case you’re thinking, “Gold is heavier than cotton, what is this idiot blogger talking about?!” then this note is meant for you. You see, dear friend, although gold is heavier than cotton, one ounce of cotton obviously has the same weight as one ounce of gold. They’re both ONE OUNCE heavy. Duh.

If the shoe doesn’t fit, she’s not the one? Ah. This is all Cinderella’s fault.

 

Chatting with my girl friends usually boils down to talking about relationships. And I was generally fine, tolerating the gushing and the sighing and the giggling… until my friend started to talk about soul mates. “Soul mates are meant to be,” she declared with conviction.

 

I had to refrain myself from rolling my eyes. “Soul mates aren’t meant, they’re made.”

 

She sniffed with disagreement. “No! God drops your soul mate on your lap when you’re ready.”

 

So, someone explain this to me. When it comes to looking for the perfect house, God doesn’t drop it on our laps; we have to look for it, search for it online, hire a realtor, check out one house after another, and settle for the one house that doesn’t seem to have a ghost or a faucet leak that mysteriously can’t be fixed. When it comes to jobs, we hunt for the perfect one like wolves on a prowl, constantly searching for the one job that offers fair work hours and benefits. We go through newspapers and online job sites, hoping that of the gazillion jobs listed, we find one that we can stomach enough to wake up to everyday. But when it comes to relationships, nooooo, that is supposed to come to us while we sit lazily on our bums all the live-long day?

 

Eh. Bite me. Humanity is fast losing the race against logic.

 

I’m not being jaded or pessimistic. All I’m saying is, everything in life – relationships included – will find its way to you better if you pursue it just as you deserve it. Life is not a fairy tale; our godmothers aren’t fairies, and although our sisters sometimes seem like they’re definitely evil, we aren’t living in a fairy tale.

 

Wake up. You are not Cinderella. You’re probably not even half as pretty. Your Prince Charming will not be waiting for you with the glass slipper that slipped off your feet because you were a naughty girl who wanted to sneak out of the house to flirt all night. Besides, if everybody stayed at home waiting for their prince or princess and stared out the window everyday while crossing their fingers, then no two people would be outdoors long enough to run into each other , right?

 

Do not delude yourself; men are not princes. They’re people, complete with flaws and all, just like you. They’re not fictional characters in fairy tales; in fact, they’re real… and really, isn’t that better?

 

Somebody should sue Disney... or at least start manufacturing glass slippers for those whose heads are still up in the clouds. Wake up; reality is much better than any fairy tale you’ve ever heard.

What is life without family?

Here’s a picture I took of a feline family that took refuge right outside my building. They look so at peace with the world…

My brother found a match. And by match, I mean someone who knows exactly how to manipulate him into doing the right thing.

 

HEHEHE. Me so happy. Brother dear has been tamed and domesticated. I guess miracles do happen.

 

Ah, women. What would men do without them?

 

 

Happy Anniversary!!! ^_^

Stability. Everybody craves it. Every girl I know would love to put on color on their faces, bat their eyelashes and pretend they were sweet, perfect candidates for a lifelong partnership.

 

I don’t know, but there’s just something about that idea that doesn’t sit well with me.

 

I’ve had that stability for a short time and all I could think of was, “It’s too darn quiet.” I needed a little noise, a little shaking things up. There was just way too much sugar.

 

And too much peace, for me, was utter chaos. What I’d do to feel like I’m fighting a battle to win a war. What I’d do to feel that I want to win. Feeling that would make me feel like I own the world. I have always wanted to author my own life, choosing even the people who get to participate in it.

 

 

I guess I just want something to shake me to my very core. Passion isn’t something you can always find when your life is so stable that it starts to reek of boredom. And for me, passion is something I can never live without.

After years of living in the city, I find myself usually jaded. But once in a while, things happen that shake me out of my numbness. Today, I woke up and I saw, of all things, a full rainbow – unbroken, complete from end to end – acting like a billboard of significance, a marker of sorts.

 

A rainbow is a natural paradox. It can only exist when it rains while the sun continues to shine. It’s a firm reminder that sadness can sometimes play a part in the overall picture of bliss. It’s something that’s out there for everyone to see, but no matter how we try to get close enough, we shall never touch it. Paradox after paradox…

 

Yes, people sometimes forget these things – and that the picture is never black and white. White will never be if not for the colors that make it up. And I think that’s why there should always be rainbows: just so we always remember.

 

Even the rainbow agrees with me.Yes, it’s a day of milestones.

 

Imagine this: you’re in your room, you just woke up, and you’re feeling a little antsy. You reach down and start spanking the monkey. Suddenly, the door opens – and your mother walks in on you with your pants down and your hand feverishly wanking off! So, what do you do when you’re caught masturbating? Here are a few things you can say:

• Hey, it’s better than doing drugs!

• But Mom, I just wanted to know how big it would grow…

• Please close the door. Can’t you see I’m busy?!

• It’s not my fault, my girlfriend made me do it!

Tricky, tricky. Better not get caught with your pants down. But if you do, it’s better to be prepared with a comeback than be sorry. ;)

“There’s this story I wanna tell you,” he said.

I propped the phone on my shoulder as I folded my shirts (I have way too many of them). I sensed a long conversation based on the can-barely-contain-myself tone of his voice. I poured myself a glass of water. “Mm, tell me,” I said.

“I was hanging out with my friend one day and I left him in my room. When I came back, I didn’t knock.” He paused. “Would you knock at the door of your own room?”

“Um, no.”

“Me neither. Anyway, there’s me, not knocking. I opened the door and I saw my friend masturbating.”

I dropped my glass. Water all over my clothes, and it’s seeping into the bed as well. Crap, crap! But focus on the guy who was caught with his pants down… “Damn. Are you serious?!”

“And he looked funny, too, like he was caught with his hand in the cookie jar. But his hand was, of course, somewhere else –”

True story. Friends tell each other everything. Every little detail. Every guy caught with his pants down becomes the star of a confidential story, the unavoidable topic that just must be discussed. Such is the wonderful liberty of friendship: you can break all sacred vows of silence and know that it’s okay to be a gossip.

Yes, friends talk. And when they do, they spare no details. They will talk about the guy in the coffee shop who looks cute but sounds a lot like Elmer Fudge. They will talk about the person they just smooched with a few hours ago. They will talk about you.

Don’t say I didn’t tell you so.

Oh, by the way: In case you yourself do get caught masturbating, click here to look at several things you can say to get yourself out of trouble.

The darkest hour of the night has passed. I am about to turn a new leaf yet again. There’s a little bit more on my lap now and I get to choose what I really want.

 

Life is one big experiment. I love it.

Unsolicited information is driving me crazy.

 

Somebody has been sending me messages. Information, to be more precise. Names, followed by clues. At first, I thought it was spam mail. But after a while, I realized some of the names sounded familiar. My heart skipped a beat. Then another.

 

I typed furiously. Everything I’ve learned about the Internet, I tried to recall with every neuron I had. Who was sending me these cryptic messages? What exactly are these messages and why am I the recipient? What’s with the names and the clues?

 

After a few minutes, the picture was clearer, but still a little bit puzzling. Who was behind this rather rude barrage of clues? Who was playing detective and sending me information I never asked for? I stayed glued to my seat, figuring out in vain how and why something so perplexing could happen to me. Thank God for social networking – it made the clues not too impossible to piece together.

 

I should bail. I really should. I am not deluded.

 

I cried. For hours. There was no comfort in knowing. There never is.

 

Whoever you are, are you reading my blog? What do you want from me? Why are you doing this??? Leave me alone.

If you’re trying to access PayPal and can’t seem to log on, you’re not alone. The PayPal website is currently down, and if you try to open their website, you will encounter an Internal Server Error.

 

Should this be reason for you to panic?

 

Different countries are complaining that the PayPal servers are currently down. It does seem to be cause for alarm as PayPal always notifies its users before shutting down their servers for maintenance. However, in this case, PayPal seems to have shut down without prior notice. Has someone hacked into PayPal?

 

There’s news on the Internet about hackers planning to attack PayPal after successfully targeting Mastercard’s website.

 

At 5 in the morning today, Mastercard went offline as hackers allegedly attacked it. The attack was spurred by the WikiLeaks issue; because Mastercard denied its users to donate to www.wikileaks.org, an anti-secrecy website, hackers allegedly attacked Mastercard earlier today.

 

Later, Visa’s website also crashed. In fact, Visa was warned of the attack via Twitter, down to the minute that their servers shall crash.

 

 

As for PayPal, it seems they were next on the hackers’ roster. Let’s hope all the users still have their money once the servers are back up.

 

 

UPDATES:

 

All three websites seem to be up and functioning again. However, after the successful hacking attempts, security issues may still pop up. Let’s all hope Visa, Mastercard, and PayPal are now fully back online.

 

The Twitter account owned by Anonymous, the group responsible for the hacking attacks, has been suspended. However, sources reveal that the last tweet revealed a link that showed confidential consumer credit card info.

I was reading an article about a serial killer and his many ways of choosing a victim. He would pretend to need help, sometimes asking for directions. His girlfriend never even had a clue that he was a serial killer. He had several ways of torturing his victims. He would –

 

Wait a second. Here’s a serial killer, and he’s in a relationship?!

 

Okay, that’s downright depressing. Don’t get me wrong; I know that being single is like a breath of fresh air after having been in a serious relationship myself. No more “having” to do stuff: I don’t have to give out the compulsory small-talk text, I don’t have to put my phone on loud to answer most (if not all) calls and avoid arguments, I don’t have to feel scared whenever I go out with my other guy friends. And now, I can go “guy windowshopping” without feeling like a thief who deserves to go to jail forever.

 

However, we’re talking about a psychopath, a man who kills people for a hobby… and he gets to be in a serious relationship? Eh. Bite me.

 

Getting into a serious relationship is like drinking poison. Your single self will die a slow, torturous death. You may – nay, will – make a lot of sacrifices and compromises. That said, I would like to clarify that I’m not commitment-phobic… or am I? (But I digress – and that’s a different blog post altogether.)

 

In the middle of the serial killer article I was reading, I started to wonder about the lot of us singles who can’t find a “significant other” if our lives depended on it. If someone pointed a gun at me and said, “FIND A BOYFRIEND IN A MONTH OR I’LL SHOOT YOU IN THE HEAD!!!” I think I’ll walk to the nearest funeral home and reserve a coffin without delay – that’s because I know for sure I’ve got just one more month to live.

 

In any case, if a serial killer can get into a relationship, what does that make of me? Great. I’m a few rungs lower from a serial killer in the hierarchy of social statuses. What a great day to be single.

When you stop living in your mind and start living in the real world, you run out of issues… and you run low on emotional gasoline for words that slay.

 

Oh, no.

 

Spending time with friends and family has served as my catharsis. Now, I have no toxic waste in my mind to write about. Very little emotional baggage remains – and I am scratching my head, wondering if I should think of this as a good thing.

 

Everything that used to seem urgent now seems trivial. Issues that used to be of utmost importance have evolved into minor setbacks. Problems have faded away into scars that I now look at with a certain nostalgic fondness.

I knew it. Sigh. Pessimists all over the world are shaking their heads, whispering fiercely behind my back, plotting to get rid of me because I’ve messed with the balance of their negativity.

 

Don’t get me wrong; I’m not a girl in pigtails and pink ribbons, either. Sweet nothings and saccharine dispositions make me gag. However, optimism is something that seems to emanate from my pores. Thinking of good things is almost like making sure they happen – at least in my life.

 

But if you’re thinking my life is all dandy, you’re way off track. I still feel pretty much deprived of a lot of things. A work in progress – that’s what I want to think of my psyche.

 

So, what’s the hullabaloo all about? What’s the stitch? There is none.

 

Wait, is that for real? Scary. I’m not used to normalcy... but I just might get used to this.

 

I can’t sleep.

 

Once again, I’m plagued by petty woes. Have you ever felt like nobody’s got your back and nobody’s really listening? You fight to be heard but it just wears you down eventually and all the energy you have left is enough for an occasional sob.

 

The wear and tear of trivial things is not worth it. Something’s gotta give – and soon. I don’t even care how drastic and bloody it gets. Once I’m all maxed out in pain, next comes the comfort of numbness. Sweet numbness, take me anytime.

 

I sometimes wonder if I’m being punished. Maybe I deserve it.

 

Thank God nobody reads my blog.

It’s way too obvious to be ignored: men and women tend to flail around each other. Women don’t understand why men prioritize their work, while men feel that women’s moods are so hard to figure out.

Story of my life – and probably yours.

But the fact that men and women can’t understand each other is no mystery. In fact, science has dedicated a lot of research towards understanding not only the sociologic and psychological explanation of this seemingly great divide, but also the neurochemical and anatomical differences between the male and female brain.

Yeah, I know, that sounds like a lot of mumbo-jumbo. So here’s everything, simplified, and given in more easily digestible servings. (We may not understand the opposite gender, but I do hope you’ll understand the next few paragraphs. ^_^)

• Men have a narrow field of vision while women look at the bigger picture. Primitive men were hunters; they had to learn to focus on their prey – and that alone – for survival. Males are therefore more skilled at focusing on one task at a time. Primitive women, on the other hand, need to pay attention to little cues from their environment, such as noises around their home which might mean approaching wild animals, and little changes in their children that may indicate illness. Women are then more intuitive and tend to notice even the little things, making them experts at taking in the big picture.
• Men like solving problems while women like talking about them. Tests indicate that men get higher scores in math. Women, on the other hand, get higher scores in language subjects. That’s technical-speak for “men deal with problems by solving them, while women deal with problems by dissecting and discussing them.” (Note to men: as a member of the female population, I highly suggest that you not try to solve problems that girls share with you. They just might be looking for someone to talk to, not someone to show them they suck at problem-solving.) 
• Even men’s and women’s brains are different from each other. Harvard University conducted a study and found out that women have more closely packed neurons (nerve cells) in the brain. This means that connections between neurons are much closer, and women’s brains are expected to work faster than men’s.
• However, men use less areas of their brain to process information. When women and men are asked to pronounce one word, women use more areas of their brain while men accomplish the same task using a smaller area. This may indicate that men are more efficient when it comes to certain mental tasks.

Men and women are so different in terms of evolution, psychology, sociology, and anatomy. But the way I see it, these differences are a good thing. After all, it’s because we’re so different that we have so much to share.

Every little thing we do is a choice.

Waking up in the morning and choosing to sleep in a few minutes longer is a choice we can make. Having coffee and skipping the sugar is a decision, a choice all our own.

Every little thing. A decision, a choice. That is the one thing that makes life the gift that it is: the freedom to choose.

Even when circumstances push us into a corner, everything we do, we do because we decide to do it. Isn’t that the premise of the whole justice system, that we’re responsible for everything we do even if we’re ignorant of the rules? Or maybe I’m a moral slob and I need to reexamine my principles in life. And whether or not I decide to do that, it’s my choice. I have been given the gift of choice. My choice.

Never shall I say I didn’t mean to do it. I will give myself credit for everything I do, including the mistakes that I would like to undo even if it meant having to die ten times over.

I’m past feeling sad for anyone but myself. I know better now. The whole world is a big mess. Its stories, its tendency to throw out tidal waves, its genetic monsters and tales of human woe – all of it is a big circus of a mess. There is, however, one thing that keeps me from feeling like life has chosen me for an experiment: I have chosen not to skip the sugar.

Doesn’t make sense? The hell it does. Reading this blog post was your choice – don’t blame me if you don’t get it.