Together with other office supplies, I ordered a black sign pen. C*, the purchasing staff, gave it to me when both of my hands were full – documents, ballpens and keys on both hands. After a few days, I looked for the sign pen, and it was not in my drawer. I do not remember to have used it. There was a vague trace in my memory that I placed it on C*’s table while handing her some papers. But I was not really sure I really left it there or somewhere. I never found it.

Again, the other day, I bought a sachet of mayonnaise that I thought will go best with pan de sal for the afternoon break. Two days passed, I went back to the mini store and saw that I listed mayonnaise on the sheet of paper provided for the consumers (we don’t buy things with cash, L* is so kind-hearted to give us credit lines he he). Where is the mayonnaise? I tried my very best to locate where it could be and went back to the areas I have gone to the past two days. My officemates were laughing at me while the thought sulked in my head. This is not happening, I told myself.

It is frustrating to see myself as ‘lost’. I laughed telling a colleague that if my ‘cherished possession’ is only fixed with a pin, or only adhered to my skin, it could have vanished, too, or be found played on by pleasure seekers, or the dogs lapping it (heavens!). Horrible it may sound but I was just trying to laugh it off, shaking off the queasy feeling that these episodes of forgetfulness is giving me.

I console myself with this article. Hope and pray it will not be as ugly as when family members and friends start noticing my forgetfulness and I am not even aware of it.


It was a simple celebration with the family, with her cousins, and with a friend. But it made her happy. It is celebrating her birthday with the people that she cares a lot that made her day.

One more year and the little lady who likes to express her nonchalance with her usual “ay donk ker” (I don’t care) will be turning 18 next year.

It is joy just looking at her. She has become a little lady with a mind of her own, with goals already set, and with utter determination to get the things she wants. I pray to God that she will get her heart’s desires.

How I envy (wrong choice of word? he he) the love she has for Papsie. I don’t get a hug like that.

They were enemies before – one uses her claws to scratch the opponent and the other uses his fist to club his enemy. Today, they stand for each other and they defend each other AGAINST ME lol

Happy 17th Birthday, Kay!

Viagra for the Sexually Active


The other day a male colleague talked openly about the glorious effects of Viagra. This guy is one of those braggarts who wanted to let everybody know that he still dates four women even if he is already married.

My friend M* asked him why he uses Viagra when he is not impotent as he said, and he is only 48 years old. I seconded and asked, too, if it does not have an adverse effect. It is really a big question for me and for my friend why a sexually active man would resort to using Viagra and other erectile-dysfunction drugs.

This article explains why sexually active men use Viagra and the others. It also mentioned that there are no reported consequences of use by the under-30 crowd to date. As mentioned in the article, they use Viagra:

  • as an insurance policy against the effects of alcohol
  • to enhance one’s endurance

But those who would want to take a crack at it, the article also mentioned the following:

  • when combined with alcohol, it could lead to unwise late-night choices like not using a condom
  • psychological dependence
  • accidents (as the case of a male who got penile fracture when he had rodeo sex)

Tsk tsk all for sex huh. But here’s another question for the experts: What will happen if a female pops Viagra, Cialis and Levitra?



    Pretend that today is Election Day.  How ready are you to cast your vote hopefully?  Did you prepare a list of who’s who?  Pretend that the list of administration, or opposition candidates is there listed in the voter’s cubicle.  Will you vote straight, or consider any from the two opposing groups that you think is worth the ballot?  Or will you consider ‘the Third Force’, which, in your make-believe scenario, the candidates from that ‘force’ rejected coalition and went independently, away from the trapos, with their ‘people ticket’? How truly nice to see that ‘the Third Force’ succeeded in putting up their political machinery and had created an image of men and women with integrity and unselfishness.

    Ah… wake up.  This is only a dream.  But who knows that one day, we can have a government ruled by decent people, people without selfish interests, that is.

    Dare to be Different

    It is a fact that everybody is unique, or different from others, in so many ways. I just thought (out of boredom) to ask you, dear readers, these questions:

    If someone will give you a gift, and you have to choose from one of the following three things ( the only choices left), what would you choose? Why? What would you not rather receive? Why?

    mouthwash A


    I would rather choose the foot scrub. At least, that would leave me thinking that my foot needs scrubbing (everybody needs that once in a while) than be left pondering why would somebody give me a deodorant or a mouthwash. Heh.

    I love shoes, especially those that are unique and eye-catchers. Found these shoes while bloghopping. What would be a comfortable pair for you?

    A B


    It is an amazingly sleepy afternoon. Hohum. 😉

    She wanted to be the reason for everything and so was the cause of nothing.

    – Djuna Barnes (1892-1982)

    This reminds me of some people who hunger so much for acknowledgement that they are better than others in whatever they do, in whatever they say, or in whatever they have. These self-aggrandizing, attention-seekers should hear what Albert Einstein has to say – “Desire for approval and recognition is a healthy motive but the desire to be acknowledged as better, stronger, or more intelligent than a fellow being or fellow scholar easily leads to an excessively egoistically psychological adjustment, which may become injurious for the individual and for the community.”

    Often I encounter people who when told a story, their stories would be much bigger, and habitually blown-up. If you tell them your head aches, they will reply that their heads had been aching, too, for hours but you will see them still doing things that are causing the headache. Or if you tell them how ugly your hands are becoming because of laundry detergents, they will tell you how more ugly their hands had become because of laundrying. Funny how they wanted to be more ‘ahead’ in such dire tales.

    When you tell them you bought something that you are so excited about, you will hear a reply that they also had bought the same thing, or someone did, much cheaper or much prettier. The shallowness of the conversation I cannot bear. Not once will you hear a simple appreciation, or an intelligent conversation about things, without the attempt to compete.

    At first, I could not believe that my perceptions are true, that these people are actually competing with anyone even for the littlest things. It’s not coincidental, I tell you, it is habitual. I end up silent, or ignoring, or telling myself not to let them get into my nerves.

    But try asking them what to do about a simple predicament, they could not even give a workable solution. Or sometimes they would just give you a look and say nothing. Funny again how suddenly they become silent when they have to be involved, or their opinions are badly needed. Try again repeating the situation or the condition (perhaps they did not understand or it was not clear), the same response will be given – zero, as in silence, as if they did not hear anything.

    These people wanted to be a star but are very reluctant to lend a hand because they would not want to be involved. But everybody has to be involved when they are in a situation. Egotists. False people. They are.

    Life is Precious

    On the resumption of classes, Kay texted me yesterday that her classmate died last December. When she reached home, she told us that it made her sad because she had just seen him last December before the classes end. If you saw the news, the fire accident in the Corinthian Gardens was where he died.

    I can understand why Kay was so upset. He was only 18. He could do so much more if still alive. It made me sad, too. This reminded me of what Peabody (of The Falcon at the Portal) said, “God does not always play fair.” But it is not fair to say that. For me, God always has valid reasons why He let things happen. There are things only God can answer.

    It made me value each moment of my life with my beloved ones. It made me think that I should be thankful for whatever life is to offer. Because I believe life is so precious to be complaining so much about what comes my way: more work than pleasure, dissatisfaction with a lot of things, vanity concerns, monetary/budget concerns, etc, etc.

    I guess God kept reminding me that life is indeed precious. This evening while we were at The Flavors of China, Papsie coughed while eating the hot chili from the spicy chicken. His epiglottis failed again to block food to pass into the trachea, or Papsie had failed to eat slowly again causing the epiglottis to malfunction. It frightened me. The look on his face was not good. His eyes were red and it looked like blood will ooze out of them. I was in panic silently because I don’t want to let the kids be affected. I kept telling him not to suppress his coughing but he was too shy that the other customers eating in the resto will be disturbed. He told me afterwards he doesnt want that because that is too embarassing. Talk about embarassment in a near-demise situation. Thank God it came to a halt, his face back to normal and his eyes not red anymore. I scolded him for suppressing his coughing because it appeared too difficult for him.

    The malling and eating binge was satisfactory. (Thanks to the ‘small’ incident.) It doesn’t happen too often. It gave everyone a satisfied feeling. Only to be deadened by what we witnessed when we opened the door of the house. Broccoli lay dead on the floor, as stiff and cold as the marble floor. Kay cried in distress when she saw her. I asked Daryl to check on the other kitten. He, too, was dead. Both were strangled, probably by that notorious cat who had killed Sundance, too. I could only sympathize with Kay. Daryl was alert, despite the fact that he was also affected, to put them in a plastic bag. We forgot to close the door to the washing area where that killer cat always enter, and Kay had forgotten to keep the kittens inside her room.

    Life is precious. Goodbye, Broccoli and Ignominy. It pains me to see that death came upon you, young fellas, this early.