Cooking is simple. I should know; Mom taught me how to cook when I was around ten. Or twelve. I’m not really sure. Before she got sick.
Rub one whole chicken with a mixture of chopped ginger and sesame oil.
Before, the world revolved around the kitchen. The dirty kitchen, to be precise. Some chicken had been culled earlier in the day, and Mom was collecting the coagulating blood for later. Mom had seen them at the wet market and thought it would be good to demonstrate how an entire animal becomes dinner. I was transfixed by the cooking process; nothing went to waste. Continue reading “How to Cook Chicken”
I got a message from a friend in a forum I used to visit a long time ago, where I made a name for myself writing about what happens in people’s nether regions. One day, a group of women in the forum got together and decided to put together a list of questions they’d like to ask men but never got around to doing it. I surmise that even if they did, all they got flew above their heads. Continue reading “Questions and Answers No.1, Series of 2008”
JUNK WARNING: this post has been edited without changing its content.
I’m still bored, and I’m still pissed.
This is it! I’ve finally run out of things to do, or things that I can do while waiting for the next thing that I can do today. I can’t really do the next thing I’m supposed to do any earlier, because it’s beyond my control. Continue reading “I’m Bored. Fuck Off.”
We’re delaying the celebration of our fifth wedding anniversary to mid-June. We’ve got tickets to Singapore for a food pilgrimage.
Anyway, here’s a video that almost didn’t make it on that fateful day. Clang took some extra time editing a MTV that ended up on the cutting room floor – I don’t think we were on the same page on that one. It looked nice, sure (he kept on showing it to other people long after our wedding), but it just wasn’t coherent with the rest of the celebration. Continue reading “Five years later.”
This story takes place in that lost era where alphanumeric pagers, party lines, six digit phone numbers, and phones with large rotary dials were the arsenal through which boys paid court to pretty girls. Continue reading “The First Time”
I was watching The Buzz/Startalk with my mother yesterday, as she insisted that this would be more educational than watching some relatively anonymous journalist (Anthony Bourdain’s No Reservations – this week he was eating through organic farmers’ produce in Ireland, I think) eat his way through yet another foreign meal. “You have to be aware of the reality around you,” she says.
“Like showbiz? That’s rich,” I retort. It falls on deaf ears. Continue reading “Showbiz Sunday with Mom”
Three months to the bar and I discover the hard way that I have cystic lesions of the maxillary sinus in both of my sinuses. To my dismay, my doctor says that surgery is the only way to remove them because of their size. So it comes to pass that I spent the past week in hospital away from writing (but not from study – I finished reading Ethics and Commercial Law as I was convalescing). Continue reading “Old Wounds”
I’ve been impressed upon by my college friends to dye my hair at least once more before taking the Bar this September. After all, they reason out, once I pass the bar there’ll be no turning back. I shall henceforth be a slave to the corporate world whose life purpose ranks just below that of a Japanese salary man. No offense – the Japanese salary man is such an appropriate example of post apocalyptic homogeneity, or so I’ve been told. Continue reading “Rebel Music”
In a statement given to GMA7’s Startalk, Ruffa Gutierrez’s Turkish husband blamed Ruffa Gutierrez’s ambition and her materialistic relatives for destroying their marriage.
I take back what I said about Yilmas probably having someone else. This marriage died because of a meddling interlopers. I think that’s a sufficient cultural misunderstanding right there.
In the Philippines, in-laws are often involved in less than savory relations with their daughter’s spouse. This is true in cases where the other spouse has met with disfavor in the mother-in-law’s eyes. Said mothers-in-law are known in stereotype to sabotage these marriages. You know what they say about there being smoke.
Rama’s replies may give a clue as to what really is the score. Continue reading “Clues”
I was talking to my friend Bej as I was driving her home tonight about how awkward it was to talk to old friends over the Internet. I’d been bumping into them recently, as if the end of law school were also the end of a Gulliver-like trance into which I’d been brought.
It’s not that I don’t appreciate old friends coming out of the woodwork, but to bump into them online without much to say to each other, is quite the unnerving experience. Continue reading “Dyahe”