Welcome to the jungle!
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meet the predator
call me jenie
born on 02/20/83 after my Dad & Mom drank beer and ate balut 9 months before
lives in Singapore, but always a Pinoy at heart
works as an advertising copywriter, but hates proofreading her blog entries
loves true friends, fake DVD's, alternative music, alcohol, sarcasm, boxing, hatha yoga, and House (the TV series,not the music genre)
loathes indifference, power trippers, narcissists, giant egos and bad breath
tries to live by the quote "Postpone death by living, by suffering, by error, by risking, by giving, by losing." by Anais Nin
topak-man
While dealing with my monthly topak last night, I watched:
- Lost
- Nip/Tuck on etc
- Beavis & Butthead in HBO
- News Central on Studio 23
- MTV Homecoming (where I saw Jerp say nothing hehe)
- Entertainment Tonight
- And another episode of Nip/Tuck
I don’t know why but I find Christian, the manyakis doctor, hot. It must be his incubus-like role in Charmed. Yikes.
But despite all the shows and distractions, I didn’t lose my topak until this morning. Geesh. I hate it when this happens. I actually told my Mom that I want us to move out of the condo because after one freaking year, I finally got tired of not having privacy in my little bedroom-sala corner, beside the dining table. Yes I endured that without complaints, until last night. But it was dumb of me because our contract expires on January 25, and if we don’t renew it or find a place soon, we’d have to go back to the Laguna house. And that’s another huge problem. I’d have to commute (which I don’t really mind except for extreme OT days), my Mom has to drive all the way to Makati daily, Tatoff and I might not be able to visit me in that faraway land as often, etc. etc. Ugh. And what do I get in return? Privacy of my own room. And a house, on land with pets. Yes, those things do matter after a year of living 36 floors above ground. Argh, I hate this schmuck dilemma. How many times do we have to move out?!?! Can’t we just stay in one house and be normal?!?!
Okay, I know my blabbing won’t do anything. I better help find a place before January 25, or else we’ll be stuck in that cramped 36th floor unit for a year again. Darn life. I want my own room and “space”, man. I’m doomed to being a kid tugging along her mother’s saya. But hopefully, things will be different next year. I’ve found a way.
11:20 AM
Tuesday, January 17, 2006
