On Putting Words In Somebody Else’s Mouth

I once got into this kind of conversation with a couple:

Me:  “So how did you two meet?”
Girl:  “Well we meet at bla bla bla when he was bla bla bla… and bla bla bla”
Me:  “Ah how sweet!  And did you (referring to the boy) fall in love at first sight?”
Girl:  “He won’t admit it.  But I think he… bla bla bla…”
Me:  “I see.  Wow, that’s interesting.  So you two have been an item for how long now?”
Girl (yet again):  “Let’s see… we first got introduced at… bla bla bla… then bla bla bla and…”

All throughout the night, the guy stays silent, smiled politely and agrees with everything the girl said.  And I got tired easily.

Crampin’

Signs of ‘that time of the month’:

1.  Sudden craving for impossible things such as a pair of Louboutins.
2.  The awful awful awful stomach cramps, recurring migraine and stiff neck.

Remedies:

1.   A box of Christian Louboutin shoes.
2.  Lying flat on my stomach, my Bebe beside me stroking my back and constantly telling me that I’m pretty when the real thing is I look like shit.

Reality:

1.  Only a miracle could bring the box containing the aforementioned Louboutins to me.
2.  My Bebe has to work tonight, so I’ll have to just be happy hearing his voice over the phone.

Why isn’t it Saturday already?

Sigh.

I WANT THIS!

Sure it costs more than a new car’s down payment. Yes it’s equal to buying about three or four new Japanese mid-grade motorcycles, and of course it’s as much as paying a first installment of a house’s mortgage in Jakarta’s sub-suburbs.

Jail Is The New Black

I seriously don’t get today’s Hollywood starlets.

Gone are the days of looking at your best in every public appearance.  Gone are the era of dressing up and let handsome suitors lead you on the red carpet.  And gone are the times of holding an elegant glass of champagne in your hands.  The millenium is certainly the time to be trashy by day and tranny-like by night.  Forget handsome suitors as jobless rappers in baseball caps and beat up jerseys are ready to marry you in an instant and let you divorce them to live out of alimony (feminists, eat your words as K-Fed made sure Britney pay every cent).  And champagne aren’t the ‘it’ drink anymore for today’s ‘it’ drink can be found anywhere anytime and it comes in a paper cup with a Starbucks logo on it.

First it was Paris.  Now it’s Lindsay.  I can see Britney’s standing in line.  To my surprise, the ‘bad girl’ Xtina Aguilera has turned into a very different direction.  Settling down, sobering up and cleaning her image.  At least that’s one good thing happening in Hollywood.  As for the rest…

… I think jail is indeed the new black.

God, I’ve been reading too much Perezhilton.

Living a Fabulous Life

Since my book was published two months ago, I’ve had random people saying this to me:

“Hi, I’ve read your book. You know, you have a fabulous life!”

And I would sheepishly reply:

“Aww, really? It’s the people around me who are fabulous…”

And I meant every word of it. What I don’t say to them is the following:

“What do you mean by ‘fabulous’?”

I (Heart) My Old Friends

My phone rang yesterday, just as I was finishing up shooting at the studio. It was my friend Barrie.

+ “Hi Und! Are you busy right now?”
– “Well I’m just about to wrap up the shoot for today. Wassup?”
+ “Oh go ahead then, this can wait.”
– “No no, it’s fine. We’re on a break anyway. Wassup?”
+ “I just wanna invite you to a movie premiere tomorrow. That is, if you have the time”
– “A movie premiere? You’re writing the script?”
+ “Not this one, but this is like the thing that I’ve been working on for the past few months”
– “When is the premiere again?”
+ “Tomorrow. I invited Mr. J too and he said he’d come. So if you’re free maybe the three of us can meet up!”
– “Cool! So you’re sending the invites?”
+ “Just come, I’ll have the tickets ready. It’s not like any other premieres. You actually get seat numbers. So come, okay? It’s at 8 p.m. Grande MPX”
– “I’ll have to reconfirm tomorrow at about noon. Can I call you then?”
+ “Of course. See ya!”

That short conversation turned to be one of the greatest night I’ve had in such a LONG time. Well it might be just ‘regular’ for some, but to me it was great.

Manic Depressive Me. Uh Huh.

What mental disorder do you have? Your Result: Manic Depressive     You have extreme cycles of highs and lows. Sometimes you feel like you don’t know who you are. One week you could be very hyper and happy and the next week you are slow and depressed.
ADD (Attention Deficit Disorder)
Paranoia
GAD (Generalized Anxiety Disorder)
OCD (Obsessive Compulsive Disorder)
What mental disorder do you have?

Tonight’s Wonder

Will not tell on how I got into writing this, will not disclose who where what or why, I just NEED to write this.

So let’s just say I hung out at a place I don’t usually hang out in.  And let’s just say I was there coincidentally.  And when I was there, I see a lot of beautiful young girls old-looking ‘exotic’ women who look a lot like trannies with saggy boobs held up by push up bras, hanging on to grinding their partners -most of the men are in their forties-.  I was trying so hard NOT to be judgemental, but all hell broke loose as I said to my friend:

“Are they… you know… ‘professionals’?”

My friend looked at me and said with a wicked grin:

“YOU THINK?”

Crush Du Jour

I know Dian Sastro is probably still in the relationship with him, and I really don’t mean to cause a stir.  Seriously, it’s just tacky to get into catfights over this kind of thing… but I’ve accidentally flirted with him at the end of last year… when Dian was with him.  I quite remember me and Dian’s conversation at Mr. Bean Coffee Citos that fateful afternoon:

Me:  “You sure you won’t let him go?”
Her:  “No.  Why would I?”
Me:  “Because I want him real bad.”
Her:  “Now now, we don’t know each other that well, Miund.”
Me:  “Oh come on, what else do you want?  You have everything.”
Her:  “SO?”
Me:  “So please be a good girl and just let him go.  He clearly belongs to me.”
Her:  “Sorry, Miund.  But no.”

The world is so freaking unfair.  How could she?

Worst Dressed?

I’ve always been a fan of Mr. Blackwell‘s 10 Worst Dressed Women lists over the years. I even envied him for gaining such attention by doing the thing I love most:

Bitching about other people’s dresses.

I thought it was the BEST job in the world. It’s like waking up every morning, having breakfast at the nearest cafe, scanning the surroundings and noting down fashion mistakes. On to lunch at some posh restaurant, sitting in your reserved corner, enjoying your salad while -again- noting down fashion faux-pas. And then going to a high-tea thingie, pretending to be interested to some rich wife’s tale about how her poodle got dyed blue, going to the men’s room to jot the fashion mistakes… and off to a cocktail party and do exactly the same, and emailing your thoughts of the day to a well known fashion magazine to have them printed for the next edition. And at the end of the year, the lists will be compiled into one conscised small list that’s released worldwide. Ah heaven.