Wish I tried a sardine sandwich or two...
17 July 2005
07 July 2005
14 June 2005
CableVision
I've been telling myself (besides reminding myself to stop talking to myself), that I should Get Out More. So last week, I did. I stepped out of my bedroom, into the living room.
That's where I found Cable, awaiting.
Alicia Silverstone was newly single and getting picked up by sizzling men at pubs, and hooking them up with her friends. At the end of the show, she got back together with her ex. Wimp!
Then came Frasier. Dad, hobbling just fine with his walking stick, was busy dating two chicks at once. He was actually savvy enough to give each babe a different ring tone so he'd know immediately who was calling. Didn't work. He got dumped, on the double.
I was so tickled, it didn't matter how far-fetched this all was.
No, let met rephrase. TV is great precisely because it is utter_and_complete balderdash. If it were realistic, I'd be watching endless takes of a chubby asian girl hanging out in her room (and occasionally stepping out to watch cable).
Now, if you've read enough books on success, you'd have noticed that most of them say more or less the same thing: "To reach your ultimate goal, visualise it first."
I look into my mind's eye and see myself yellow and gray and cackling over a re-run of Friends. And feel successful already.
That's where I found Cable, awaiting.
Alicia Silverstone was newly single and getting picked up by sizzling men at pubs, and hooking them up with her friends. At the end of the show, she got back together with her ex. Wimp!
Then came Frasier. Dad, hobbling just fine with his walking stick, was busy dating two chicks at once. He was actually savvy enough to give each babe a different ring tone so he'd know immediately who was calling. Didn't work. He got dumped, on the double.
I was so tickled, it didn't matter how far-fetched this all was.
No, let met rephrase. TV is great precisely because it is utter_and_complete balderdash. If it were realistic, I'd be watching endless takes of a chubby asian girl hanging out in her room (and occasionally stepping out to watch cable).
Now, if you've read enough books on success, you'd have noticed that most of them say more or less the same thing: "To reach your ultimate goal, visualise it first."
I look into my mind's eye and see myself yellow and gray and cackling over a re-run of Friends. And feel successful already.
01 June 2005
27 May 2005
Reunited
Your white sports car is maybe the only thing different about you. That, and your hair which used to be long, blond, rebonded and reached halfway down the tattoo on your back. Groovy, but not the right do for corporate whores.
Time wanted to make a 3-year getaway. It knocked us out first. You still quote lyrics and lines from movies. You still keep that pinkie nail long. And you still dig Kurt and Red Hot Chilli Peppers — those prima donnas whose concert we waited 1.5 hours for in a humiliating queue. Also, when you flicked your zippo, it was deja vu.
You told me you cried watching Star Wars Return of the Sith. And when I told you about my favourite scene in Lord of The Rings where Merry the hobbit sang about the good old days while his friends died in battle, you remembered it just as vividly.
We both also remember the rude thing you said on my 20th birthday.
By the way, I forgive you. Because you're cool. And since we have so much in common, it means I'm cool too.
Time wanted to make a 3-year getaway. It knocked us out first. You still quote lyrics and lines from movies. You still keep that pinkie nail long. And you still dig Kurt and Red Hot Chilli Peppers — those prima donnas whose concert we waited 1.5 hours for in a humiliating queue. Also, when you flicked your zippo, it was deja vu.
You told me you cried watching Star Wars Return of the Sith. And when I told you about my favourite scene in Lord of The Rings where Merry the hobbit sang about the good old days while his friends died in battle, you remembered it just as vividly.
We both also remember the rude thing you said on my 20th birthday.
By the way, I forgive you. Because you're cool. And since we have so much in common, it means I'm cool too.
25 May 2005
10 May 2005
Ode to the bohemian
I am deeply envious of the singing bohemian in Agnes Varda's "One Sings, the Other Doesn't". She travels into forgotten towns bringing her sweet voice and music. Man is bourgeois, and woman proletariat, she sings, telling of housewives who bring their men their breakfast and morning paper. With a swollen belly, she sings that the pregnant tummy is a balloon, a cocoon, or a cookie filled with fortune. Her face shining like a flourescent lamp, hair a tangled web of strawberry curls. I so longed to be her, barefoot, in loose blouses that billowed in the wind.
Her Iranian husband had a bordering-on-gay wardrobe, tan skin, unkempt hair and bell bottoms that went on forever. He fell headlong into her life, but she left him for a career on the road.
Now, unfortunately, there aren't anymore Romantics from the sixties. We are left with only peasant blouses, billowing in air conditioning.
Her Iranian husband had a bordering-on-gay wardrobe, tan skin, unkempt hair and bell bottoms that went on forever. He fell headlong into her life, but she left him for a career on the road.
Now, unfortunately, there aren't anymore Romantics from the sixties. We are left with only peasant blouses, billowing in air conditioning.
24 April 2005
Blogtrotting
Blogs are my latest hobby. This might come as a surprise, judging from this far-from-prolific thing you are reading. What I mean is, I’ve been devouring these delicious bites of other people’s existence with a vengeance. Maybe I’m making up for all the months of blog starvation, being anorexic almost, oblivious to the joys of invading other people’s worlds.
Now, I’m part of a family. I might not be getting the love I deserve on my fellow bloggers’ blogrolls, but that’s okay because most families are dysfunctional these days, anyway.
Recently, I found this gem of a blog at girlsarepretty.com. A different story everyday! The joy! Morbid but hilarious stories that never fail to shock me. I wrote Pretty Girl (the writer) a very embarrassing fan mail, gushing about how she’s God’s gift to bored netizens everywhere, and how I would kill to write like that. She turned out to be a he. Only guys can be that funny, some say.
I do actually have one burning question to ask these great bloggers — if they spend so much time writing about their lives, how do they find time to actually have a life?
Now, I’m part of a family. I might not be getting the love I deserve on my fellow bloggers’ blogrolls, but that’s okay because most families are dysfunctional these days, anyway.
Recently, I found this gem of a blog at girlsarepretty.com. A different story everyday! The joy! Morbid but hilarious stories that never fail to shock me. I wrote Pretty Girl (the writer) a very embarrassing fan mail, gushing about how she’s God’s gift to bored netizens everywhere, and how I would kill to write like that. She turned out to be a he. Only guys can be that funny, some say.
I do actually have one burning question to ask these great bloggers — if they spend so much time writing about their lives, how do they find time to actually have a life?
22 April 2005
What we wouldn't do for an idea.
Ideas sell us things we don't need. I am guilty of the crime (they made me do it because I work in advertising).
I once had the idea that I was in love. For one moment, my mental capacities were reduced to that of a teenager's and I was just lapping up the lies. I don't blame myself - some major media buying was going on, and my inner TiVo was powerless. That 'L' word managed to buy into almost every single film, book, and song on the planet. How do you buck the trend when your local galaxy has been singing sappy love songs at karaoke bars and quoting lines like "you complete me"?
Now, I am one dissatisfied customer.
So I've been thinking up some campaigns of my own to counter the battle for my mind. I shall slogan myself out of this! My tagline for my very first campaign should be long and bizarre enough for everyone to remember.
"All Men Are Bastards No Matter How Nice They Seem At First".
Would it make a good jingle, you think?
I once had the idea that I was in love. For one moment, my mental capacities were reduced to that of a teenager's and I was just lapping up the lies. I don't blame myself - some major media buying was going on, and my inner TiVo was powerless. That 'L' word managed to buy into almost every single film, book, and song on the planet. How do you buck the trend when your local galaxy has been singing sappy love songs at karaoke bars and quoting lines like "you complete me"?
Now, I am one dissatisfied customer.
So I've been thinking up some campaigns of my own to counter the battle for my mind. I shall slogan myself out of this! My tagline for my very first campaign should be long and bizarre enough for everyone to remember.
"All Men Are Bastards No Matter How Nice They Seem At First".
Would it make a good jingle, you think?
04 April 2005
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