Monday, April 30, 2012

The Zombie Apocalypse Team

The Zombie Apocalypse finally happens.  You need to assemble a team that will help you survive the catastrophe.  Your team members would be comprised of the protagonists of:

1. Last movie/tv show you saw 
2. last book you've read 
3. last video game you played

With your team in place, how long do you think you will survive the zombie plague?

As for me, my team is as follows:

Last movie I saw:

The Avengers.  The culmination of five prior movies and four titular characters, assembling some of Marvel's greatest heroes, or at least those who are movie-worthy.  While we're on this subject, I cannot say enough how much I loved this movie.  It may not be faithful to any comic arc that I know of, but the snarky dialogue and scenes make up for it.  With Joss Whedon of Buffy fame at the helm, of this project, my expectations were high.  And he did not disappoint.

Last book I finished:

Augusten Burroughs from Magical Thinking.  The memoirs of an advertising executive who believes he can perform magical thinking.  He thought about wanting to quit advertising and become a New York Times Bestselling author, and he became one.  He wanted his date to like him even though he wasn't his type physically, and they became partners.  He was so angry at a former boss that he wished her to get hit by a bus and months later, the boss dies of an aneurysm.  Which is so much better than a bus!  Funny, endearing and relatable to an extent, I am not surprised that it became the bestseller that it was.

Last video game I played:

Druid from Diablo II.  I don't really play much video games.  But when a friend and I were talking one time about Diablo, and how it was once rumored to have caused demon possessions (yes, it even made the news) I told him I wanted to play it.  As luck would have it, he has a copy of the game and he installed the same on my old lappy.  Sadly, old lappy was ill-prepared for handling the specs needed for proper game play.  No demon possessions occurred while I was playing, but old lappy finally called it quits, and died on me.

So there you have it:  A group of super-powered, neigh indestructible individuals, an author whose every whim is made possible by the universe, and a druid who can summon wolves, bears, and meat-eating tendrils at command.  I guess I'm all set for the zombie apocalypse.  

How about you?  How will you fare in the coming apocalypse?

photo credits.  avengers, magical thinking, druid

Sunday, April 29, 2012


Our cat scratched me as I was carrying her upstairs.

Going home, I found the cat sitting at the table on the first floor.  We normally do not allow the cat to go down.  When it was little, the litter it belonged to got poisoned and died; she was the only survivor.  Matriarch nursed her to health, and applied eye drops on her when cataracts started to form.  She got out of that ordeal, but one eye remained foggy.  So Matriarch named her Juana, the one-eyed cat.

I scratched her between the ears and she gave no hint of resistance.  I think she rather enjoyed it, with her mild purring and closed eyes.  I picked her up under her forepaws and proceeded to go upstairs.  Juana doesn't usually go downstairs; she's got plenty to occupy her upstairs and food to satisfy her cravings.  But when she goes down, it means she's after one thing, and that thing is never food.

It was smooth sailing until we got to the second floor, when Juana started acting up, and try to remove herself from my grip.  She tried every which way to buck herself off of my grip, scratching me in the palm and the back of my hand in the process.  For some weeks now, she's been trying her best to elude the people in the house, hiding under tables and sprinting for the open door.  Or else mewing incessantly at the door, hoping someone would relent and open it for her.  And now that she's finally downstairs she doesn't want to go back up again.

No matter how many times I replace my hold on her, she would just buck up and try to escape, scratching me more.  She got a good hit, drawing blood on my palm.  I decided then to change tactics and take a firm hold on her nape, and Juana went limp.  I'm not sure how or why, but both cats and dogs go still when held that way.  Probably they remember when they were pups and their moms handle them that way when moving them from one location to the next.  Anyway, it did the trick and I was able to get the cat back up without any more incidents.

Juana and I aren't very close, but she's usually not violent.  But one does not simply deter a feline in heat from her natural urges.  And I guess we are like cats in that respect; going to all lengths and doing everything in one's power just to get that itch scratched.  

Friday, April 20, 2012


I'm going offline for four days.  It may probably include twitter. 

I have an early morning flight, but I've yet to pack my things.

I need the vacation.  Specially the change in scenery. 

I think I'll try defying gravity.  :-)

Wednesday, April 18, 2012

Grade School Mentality

I know I said I wont blog about work anymore, but certain developments are just begging to be picked on.  So please allow me to rant a little.  This is my blog after all.

It may not seem like it, but accounting is a high-pressure job.  Sure, we spend the whole time sitting at our desks and facing the computer, but the pressure mounts at our side, trying to balance multiple reportorial deadlines while at the same time pacifying internal and external stakeholders.  And believe me, talking with stubborn agents, irate customers and impatient stockholders can take its toll.

To take the pressure off of work, we joke around in the office.  Instead of whining about the work, we laugh it off.  And resume work afterward.  Sometimes we even joke around while working.  And what good it brought us -- employee turnover have been curbed, at least for the time being.  As with my experience with the Great Place, no matter how toxic the work is, as long as the work environment remains nurturing, or at the very least, fun, your employees will not turn tail and run the opposite direction.

It isn't always the monetary factor that keeps the employee happy, after all.

Unfortunately, some departments do not think so.

The Internal Audit department has complained to the HR about our noisy behavior in the office.  They talked with our manager, and it was communicated to us in turn.  Since then, the jokes have been toned down.  But they still found it fit to report the incident to HR. 

More than that, they are apparently checking the number of times an employee is out of the desk.  Which is funny because that employee they mentioned has one of the largest output at any given time.  I am astounded that even at this time, they are still adhering to attendance-based management, when what they should be monitoring is performance.

And with various backlogs across all departments caused about by the changes in systems and implementations, I'm surprised that they still have the time to monitor the activities of the employees of other departments.

Furthermore, this grade school mentality is galling me to no end.  All the while I thought I've already outgrown the list of noisy and absent and those not in their proper desks, but apparently, I haven't.  The sergeants at arms are still roving around the classrooms with their lists, ready to rat us out to the principal if we get too noisy.  

Suddenly, I feel like we're being held hostage inside our own office.  You can feel the sudden drop in the atmosphere and the dreary, sleepy silence that have begun to permeate.  And I will not be surprised when the resignation letters come pouring in once more, especially now that the annual audit is winding down.

Saturday, April 14, 2012

We Have Babies!

Well, puppies, but we're not checking on semantics now.  

More than a year ago, when Garfield has settled a bit after moving back in, he bought a little bundle for himself.

She was the cutest princess ever!  A cute little bundle like her deserves a kick-ass name to be remembered by.  And since Kick Ass was just recently shown in theaters then, Garfield named his baby Mindy.

And Mindy lived up to her name, bouncing up and down the corridors; attacking the other dogs, even our half-feral cats; and insisting that she be included in everything that we do.  

She also cries at night when she isn't allowed to sleep in bed with any of us.  We can't help but allow her, and then she makes her way under the pillow or in the crook of your arm.  We only stopped indulging her when she became too rowdy, scratching our arms and faces while we sleep.  We bought her a basket to sleep in and she was forceful enough to ward the three other dogs from sleeping on her basket.

Cosmo, the pack's alpha, have tried multiple times to mate with her, but Mindy, being headstrong, and as the only female, is de facto alpha, has denied him multiple times, to injurious, but thankfully, not bloody, consequences.  His patience bore fruit though, for Mindy did relent the last time she was in heat.

Mindy gave birth yesterday to four cute little babies.  Matriarch was with her the whole time, keeping an eye on her as two pups came out, and acting as midwife to help birth the two other.

Garfield, being away, feels like an absentee grandfather, knowing his daughter gave birth, but is unable to come hither.

With four new pups to bolster the pack, it seems the house will be busy for quite some time.

Friday, April 13, 2012

God Save the Queen!

To the citizens of the United States of America from Her Sovereign Majesty Queen Elizabeth II 

In light of your failure in recent years to nominate competent candidates for President of the USA and thus to govern yourselves, we hereby give notice of the revocation of your independence, effective immediately. 

(You should look up 'revocation' in the Oxford English Dictionary.) 

Her Sovereign Majesty Queen Elizabeth II will resume monarchical duties over all states, commonwealths, and territories (except Kansas, which she does not fancy). 

Your new Prime Minister, David Cameron , will appoint a Governor for America without the need for further elections. 

Congress and the Senate will be disbanded. A questionnaire may be circulated next year to determine whether any of you noticed. 

To aid in the transition to a British Crown dependency, the following rules are introduced with immediate effect: 

1. The letter 'U' will be reinstated in words such as 'colour,' 'favour,' 'labour' and 'neighbour.' Likewise, you will learn to spell 'doughnut' without skipping half the letters, and the suffix '-ize' will be replaced by the suffix '-ise.' Generally, you will be expected to raise your vocabulary to acceptable levels. (look up 'vocabulary'). 

2. Using the same twenty-seven words interspersed with filler noises such as ''like' and 'you know' is an unacceptable and inefficient form of communication. There is no such thing as U.S. English. We will let Microsoft know on your behalf. The Microsoft spell-checker will be adjusted to take into account the reinstated letter 'u'' and the elimination of '-ize.' 

3. July 4th will no longer be celebrated as a holiday. 

4. You will learn to resolve personal issues without using guns, lawyers, or therapists. The fact that you need so many lawyers and therapists shows that you're not quite ready to be independent. Guns should only be used for shooting grouse. If you can't sort things out without suing someone or speaking to a therapist, then you're not ready to shoot grouse. 

5. Therefore, you will no longer be allowed to own or carry anything more dangerous than a vegetable peeler. Although a permit will be required if you wish to carry a vegetable peeler in public. 

6. All intersections will be replaced with roundabouts, and you will start driving on the left side with immediate effect. At the same time, you will go metric with immediate effect and without the benefit of conversion tables. Both roundabouts and metrication will help you understand the British sense of humour. 

7. The former USA will adopt UK prices on petrol (which you have been calling gasoline) of roughly $10/US gallon. Get used to it. 

8. You will learn to make real chips. Those things you call French fries are not real chips, and those things you insist on calling potato chips are properly called crisps. Real chips are thick cut, fried in animal fat, and dressed not with catsup but with vinegar. 

9. The cold, tasteless stuff you insist on calling beer is not actually beer at all. Henceforth, only proper British Bitter will be referred to as beer, and European brews of known and accepted provenance will be referred to as Lager. South African beer is also acceptable, as they are pound for pound the greatest sporting nation on earth and it can only be due to the beer. They are also part of the British Commonwealth - see what it did for them. American brands will be referred to as Near-Frozen Gnat's Urine, so that all can be sold without risk of further confusion.  

10. Hollywood will be required occasionally to cast English actors as good guys. Hollywood will also be required to cast English actors to play English characters. Watching Andie Macdowell attempt English dialogue in Four Weddings and a Funeral was an experience akin to having one's ears removed with a cheese grater. 

11. You will cease playing American football. There is only one kind of proper football; you call it soccer. Those of you brave enough will, in time, be allowed to play rugby (which has some similarities to American football, but does not involve stopping for a rest every twenty seconds or wearing full kevlar body armour like a bunch of nancies). 

12. Further, you will stop playing baseball. It is not reasonable to host an event called the World Series for a game which is not played outside ofAmerica. Since only 2.1% of you are aware there is a world beyond your borders, your error is understandable. You will learn cricket, and we will let you face the South Africans first to take the sting out of their deliveries. 

13. You must tell us who killed JFK. It's been driving us mad. 

14. An internal revenue agent (i.e. tax collector) from Her Majesty's Government will be with you shortly to ensure the acquisition of all monies due (backdated to 1776). 

15. Daily Tea Time begins promptly at 4 p.m. with proper cups, with saucers, and never mugs, with high quality biscuits (cookies) and cakes; plus strawberries (with cream) when in season. 

God Save the Queen! 


I first saw this post some years ago in light of G. W. Bush's re-election. I saw it posted in one of my networks earlier, and even now, it hasn't lost its bite. There is no denying the dryness and quirkiness of British humour (not humor).  :-)

Sunday, April 8, 2012


Try as I might, I still cannot reconcile my mental image of you and what has been broached in conversation. These people, judgmental as they are at times, do not have any real cause for lying. But you are my friend – no matter how erstwhile it feels at the moment – and I will give you the benefit of the doubt. We’re not as close as I have hoped, so I will, therefore, withhold judgment. And observe. 

I don’t deny that my emotional investment in you is a great factor in why I am affected this way. There was, after all, a spark there, once upon a time; I was only fool enough, and scared enough, not to have fanned it. 


You’ve set your priorities and I agree with them. I do have my own priorities as well. But it caught me unawares that you would have to think that solution as the best course for the both of us. Even then, I could have taken it in stride, but why the sudden silence? We don’t see each other as much as we would like, but being incommunicado on top of that stings, and it’s an almost physical hurt. 

I know I share part of the blame, with my inconsistencies, but your decision to cut ties have left a bad taste in my mouth. And a thorn upon my chest. 


You are the ideal: wit that surpasses my own; physique that elicits envy; sex drive that is the stuff of fantasy; all wrapped up in a pretty package that exudes confidence. And with my emotions shot as it is, you are the unwitting vessel for my unfocused affections. Intelligent as you are, it’s impossible that this have gone past your notice. 

To understate the matter, I find you interesting. But my fatal flaw is pride and it would be long before I admit my feelings. Long enough to miss my chance, if there ever was one. 


You are my closest friend and the baby brother I never had. We’ve had our history and I’m happy that we’ve resolved it, and strengthened our friendship in the process. You know my dark thoughts and secrets yet still chose to be friends. You don’t know how grateful I am for that. 

You have bloomed beautifully from the first time I saw you, and I am happy for you. I can only envy you and live vicariously through your life – on certain aspects of it, at least.

Wednesday, April 4, 2012

The Rubdown

Walking home to my jeepney stop after my post-game dinner, I notice this person at the other side of the street raise his shirt up and rub his stomach.  Clad in walking shorts and basketball jersey, I surmised that he is probably from around the area; maybe from one of the houses near the bridge.  I cross the street and do not make eye contact.

After a while, I see him leave the street corner; probably to go home or maybe to find a better spot.  A moment later, my jeep arrives and I enjoy a peaceful, albeit noisy ride going to my street.  Probably to keep himself awake along the road, the driver was playing 90s alternative band music to the speakers' maximum capacity.

I alight the jeep to walk the short distance going home when I see someone going the opposite direction.  More than 6 feet tall and with considerable built, I grew weary of his presence and proceeded to walk with a steadier gait.  When he was just a couple of meters from me, he raised his shirt to reveal his abdomen and low-rise jeans that promises to leave little to the imagination.  Or maybe it was designed to further spark it, I don't know.

And as if on cue, he started to rub his stomach while attempting to make eye contact.  I studied my feet until I passed him.  But the footsteps behind me told me that he was now following me.  He was still attempting eye contact as I reached home and clicked the gate locked.

This wasn't the first time I encountered people attempting a hookup.  What perplexes me is their manner.  Since when did rubbing one's bare stomach become the universal code for "I'm horny, let's have sex"?  And the number of occurrences!  Two instances in just 30 minutes.  That's got to be a record, or something!


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