Sorry. Couldn’t think of a better title.
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Watched Bolt with the brother on Saturday as an act of rebellion (four of the seven cinemas in Trinoma screened Twilight; probably three-quarters of the population lined up in Trinoma that day was going to see Twilight.) At one point the seat plan of Cinema 7 [THX] showing the occupied seats was flashed on one of the LCD screens, and we saw red. (The seat plan for One True Love on the other hand was as white as snow). I felt a little bad for the mother and daughter in front of us who were trying to find two seats in a particular cinema which would allow them to sit beside each other. I don’t know what happened to them. Mommy probably told the daughter to sit two rows behind. What can you do, Mom wants her some Edward Cullen and she’s the one who’s paying – no one can argue with that.
We couldn’t watch Madagascar 2 because I’ve already seen that, which annoyed my brother. We could have watched One True Love but we’re not that rebellious.
I love Bolt. :) I just hated the fact that they screened two scenes of it when I saw Burn After Reading a week ago, John Travolta and Miley Cyrus saying, “This movie’s unlike any animated movie you’ve seen before.” WHAT? What’s with the hard sell? It turned me off. Doesn’t Disney get that people are going to watch whatever crap they’re going to cough up, no matter how ridiculous? Yes, even if it’s a movie about a 78-year-old man who ties balloons to his house so he can visit South America.
When they screened those two scenes, I actually became suspicious: maybe Bolt’s going to suck. Why else would they sell it so hard?
But it didn’t. Damn you Disney! *shakes fist*
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Before watching the film, I had to drag my ass around the mall in order to help my brother find a gift for his girlfriend. After 45 minutes (inclusive of two rest stops, my request) of walking in and out of shops, I looked within myself and said, with all the sincerity I could muster, What the fuck are you doing? You’re a self-respecting individual!
We entered Silverworks because my brother wanted to give the girlfriend a pair of earrings. I asked what kind of earrings, and my brother said dangling earrings, so I asked the girl at the counter, “Do you have any dangling earrings?” She brought out a display rack. I pointed at a pair and said these look nice, but my brother said he didn’t like the stones.
The girl at the counter looked at my brother, turned to me, gave me a big smile, and said, “Ma’am, try niyo.”
My brother, who was taller than me, had his arm around me. I saw the girl’s smile and was horrified when I realized what she was thinking.
But I didn’t want to ruin her day. We left without correcting her.
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I was given the same smile when we crashed into Girbaud and inspected the bags. (My brother handed me one bag after another and positioned me in front of the mirror like a mannequin. “I wanted to see how it looks like when you carry it.”) Ulk. I wanted to wear one of those shirts with the arrow, but mine would say, I’M WITH MY BROTHER YOU CAN STOP SMILING NOW.
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They’ve banned Plurk at the office, after banning Multiply, Friendster, and Facebook. You can’t even Google the term “proxy”! (Trust me, I tried.)
One day, those people from IT will walk in on us and find us cutting ourselves, saying, “I can’t feel anymore!” Or, they’ll find us starting fires, torturing small animals, dancing naked in a circle as if it were the Middle Ages.
I don’t know how I’m going to survive the holidays at work.
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This morning an old woman stopped me on the stairs, saying the apartment has a clogging problem and so every unit has to pay 110 pesos and can I spare some now because the men are already here. She pointed vaguely beyond the staircase. Clogging problem? But I just took a bath and the drain in our bathroom worked okay.
She spoke in English every now and then. I said I’ll go ask my landlady about the payment. She said I should give the money now so the men could start working. (And I was thinking, What men? I don’t see any.) I told her I was going to be late. Then she said something that gave me the sense that she hated my landlady’s guts.
According to my landlady, the woman was a former building administrator who was suspected of graft and corruption, and who actually owed my landlady’s family some money.
She seemed crazy, too. I don’t know. I hope she doesn’t own a gun. Or a pipe wrench.
Eliza Victoria 