Hi fwends!

In case you've dropped by, please be informed that I've moved my Blog to this URL:

W O O F !

It's now complete with pictures & all that jazz (yup, new pix are now with old entries).

A gazillion thanks to EASYJOURNAL & my fwends ATE V. & LANEY for introducing me to the world of internet blogging. Mwa!

And to you... thanks for checking out WOOF!

God bless,
Manonica

People are gonna hate me for saying this.

Saw an investigative report on Congressman Edcel Lagman's proposed '2-Child Policy' for the Filipinos on TV last night, and although I'm not sure it's the government's business to interfere in the people's, I can say that I don't blame the Congressman and other politicians for wanting to pass that law.

I recently commented about how its become a pet peeve of mine to see poor women walking the streets with children dangling all over their bodies. By 'poor', I don't mean kawawa (although they're obviously that, too). By 'poor', I mean belonging to the majority of the Philippines' D-E-F market. You drive around Metro Manila and you come across hundreds of poor Pinays with 3 or more children holding onto their tattered skirts, carrying a baby and pregnant to boot. Then, you walk into a posh Ortigas Center mall and you see well-off mothers with one or two children happily holding their hands. Heck, even their yayas are left with nothing to hold on to but shopping bags.

What gives?!

Reporter Aladin Bacolodan compared his situation to that of a family of 11 living in the slums. As one of ABS-CBN's top reporters, Aladin could easily afford to have a litter of kids, yet opted to have just one so far. Meantime, Family "R" had to have their 12th child aborted, as they can hardly feed their existing 11 tykes, all less than a year older than the last.

Nanay "R" finally started taking birth control pills after her 12th pregnancy (hoo-wah), rationalizing that it's better late than never, I guess. The family relies on "utang" to give tasteless, diluted milk to their 2 toddlers and 1 infant. On good days, they have champorado for dinner. Otherwise, their kids have grown accustomed to rice and UFC Banana Catsup or salt for meals.

"Basta may laman lang ang tiyan nila", Nanay "R" tearfully said on camera. Like we have to feel sorry for her, and the thousands like her.

No thank you.

Feel free to hate me now, but I'm not gonna take that back. In fact, here it comes again... NO THANK YOU.

It's a sick sick sicko cycle that the poor sector in our society go through... overpopulated families lead to poverty which leads to malnutrition which leads to illiteracy which leads to joblessness which more often than not, leads to vices which leads to addiction which sometimes leads to crime which leads to being a menace to society which leads to no future except to make their own overpopulated families... and so on. It never ends.

At the same age as Nanay "R", here I am desperately wanting to have JUST one child, and yet I fear that I am to become such an irresponsible parent if I bring a Li'l Manonica into the world before my piggy bank is full enough to oink it's way through my child's basic needs.

I used to be so concerned about being judgemental that I rationalized for parents like those. I told myself that there was a lack of birth control awareness for the poor; or that they don't have any money for birth control methods; that aside from the rhythm method, the Catholic Church disallows birth control per se; or because these people are too poor to do anything else, it's a fact that there's nothing better to do when the kandila goes out at night but to have sex... and get pregnant.

But of course, the bottom line is, how difficult is it for a human being to know when they're spawning a wee bit much than they can afford to? It's basic human instinct, isn't it? Without that common sense, then what's to differentiate us from the orangutans?

There is just NO excuse.

Ergo, I do not feel sorry for those parents who are too poor to support their eleventynine kids. To me, that's just plain ol' irresponsibility. Indifference. Oh, and stupidity.

I do feel bad for the children who never asked to be conceived in the first place though. Pitiful kids who have no future ahead of them even before they reach full term inside of their mothers' wombs.

Parents like Nanay and Tatay "R" are the reason why politicians like Rep. Edcel Lagman feel the need to play god and rudely interfere with the personal lives of the Filipino people. Boo.

If this bill is passed, like so many other single people wanting to have kids one day, even before intelligently deciding on how many my future spouse and I should and want to have, we've already been sentenced to just 2 at the most. Not that I wanna have the Brady Bunch b-but, what the heck happened to freedom of choice? Double boo.

Maybe it IS time to leave this country after all.

Last week was a blue one for me. I had a big fight with my beloved YS. For the nth time, t'was about that huge elephant in our family room known as Weecked Seester. We didn't talk to each other for over a week. It was sheer torture.

One fine morning, I was still up at 7am from doing my barkada photo albums (which is therapeutic for my blues nowadays), so I decided to cook breakfast. At the stroke of 8, YS emerged from her room, fresh after a good night's zzz, and looking at her, my heart just BROKE. I thought that kinda physical pain only existed from break-ups. Apparently, I was wrong. I missed her. I regretted having yelled at her. I realized that no matter how unfair and unyielding and unreasonable she was, I would still love her till the end of my days. As with my late Papa, all the pain and misunderstanding between us just seemed like such a... moo point. When all's been said and done, what's left between you and your parents are memories of all the good times, and the bad times become, er, a cow's opinion. Joey got it right. They just don't matter. Ate V, this one's for you, gurl.

Needless to say, I'm glad that YS and I have kissed and made up. Well, at least I have. I know she still feels kinda bad towards me b-but, that too shall pass, I have faith. Meantime, round 1 or 2 notwithstanding, she continues to amuse me with her mangled vocabulary:

~ Rebecca: Berocca. You know, the effervesent vitamin C? She can NEVER get it right! "Ma-no, I need to by some Rebecca."
~ The ching: Microwave oven. YES. She says, "Just put the popcorn in the ching!" Whatev.
~ Gang-gang: To hit a.k.a. "bangga". For as long as I can remember, it's always been... "Be careful, you might gang-gang that into the wall!"... "I never told Papa about my first gang-gang with the car"... "Rico gang-gang his head on the table." Oh, whatev Ma. I love you still!

It's my Papa's 3rd death anniversary today. He passed away 3 years and 5 hours ago after suffering from emphysema and colon cancer. I had a love-hate relationship with my Old Man. He was hotheaded and judgemental; I’m headstrong and feisty... not the best father-daughter formula, yes? The night before he slipped into a 24-hour coma, we had our last li'l fight. Well, he was angry at me for refusing to ask the nurse to give him his painkillers an hour ahead of schedule and I told him that we had to follow the doctor's orders. "Putang ina mo!" he shot back, "Why do you want to see me suffer? I’m dying already. Just hold my hand!"

So, there we were, father and daughter pissed at each other but holding hands. I held on to his clammy, bony grip till it was time for his painkillers and comfort came to his tired old body. When he started falling asleep, I kissed him goodnight and went home to rest. Less than 24 hours later, he passed away. In retrospect, maybe I should’ve just let him have whatever he wanted back then. Anything to keep a dying loved one comfortable during his or her final days can’t be all bad.

Such is what we did for our beloved Shih Tzu, Chappy, who went to dawgie heaven last July 17. We carried him to places where his tiny legs couldn’t take him to anymore and gave him his favorite fried chicken even if it wasn’t good for his ailing renal system… all to make him happy during his dying days. At 15 1/2 dawgie years old (which is around 108 in human years), he lived his last few days with strength and much dignity, suffering in silence and never letting out so much as a whimper, not even when he had to painfully drag his hind legs to walk and he started throwing up and having diarrhea despite his week-long empty li’l tummy.

We teach all our dawgs to shake hands, but Chappy’s was special. He had the softest, gentlest shake a dawg could ever offer, and he did it almost in slow motion. He gave me his fragile paw to shake for the last time just a few days before he died. I knew he felt weak and tired, but Chappy nonetheless shook my hand when I held mine out. All to make me happy. The “Old Man”, as we fondly called him, had been with us since I was 20 years old. Now I’m 35. He saw me through college and boyfriends and good times and bad, licking my face whenever he heard me crying and laughing with me and his son Ugloid whenever we played catch. He was my roommate for most of his life and I will miss him everyday of mine.

Here’s to my Papa, Atty. Manolo Figueras and my Chappy a.k.a. Ali of Baguio Bronze, who both helped make me who I am today… a person of integrity and a lover of animals. I’ll be seeing you, my dear Old Men. Thank you for all the joy you gave.

For the final 10 minutes of the soap opera Sana'y Wala Nang Wakas yesterday, it was dead quiet in my house. T'was the much-hyped finale of the teleserye, and the maids and I were all glued to the TV, tears pathetically in our eyes, eagerly awaiting who Ara will end up with... her first-love Christian, or the man who gave her a second chance at love, Leo. Being the teleserye nut that I've hopelessly evolved into, THAT, of course, was an earth-shattering question.

It was a major teleserye dilemma, and since even the production team couldn't come to an agreement amongst themselves regarding who the heroine will marry in the end, ABS-CBN pulled a Pontius Pilate and left the decision up to the televiewers via a SMS/online contest. Then of course, to play up the ratings game, they made it look like they were doing it FOR their dear kapamilya viewers, er, like me. See? This is why Charo Santos-Concio and Gabby Lopez are such gazillionaires! Such manipulative, brilliant, scheming, amazing minds they have working for them. Hmm... maybe I SHOULD have entertained Kapamilya Network Honcho Dude's advances to me a decade ago. Who knows? Maybe I could've been Mrs. Kapamilya Network Honcho Dudette today. He's a womanizer all right (aren't they all?!?), but you know what? If I'm gonna be screwed over by lying, cheating men all my life anyways, they might as well be wealthy lying, cheating men right? (Ya hear that, Zees Outlaw? Belated haberday to you... and may your birthday gifty to yourself be getting rid of that Dorkleng once and for all! Duh.)

Ok, ok, of course I'm joking about the wealthy, lying, cheating hubby thing. It's a tempting joke though. One that you wouldn't mind if only there were no consequences in life and no dear God whose heart you'll break. La-dee-dum...

Anyways, where was I? Hopeless romantics that Pinoys are, it was no surprise that Ara ended up with Christian. I, on the other hand, I was hoping that she'd end up with Leo. I mean, hadn't Christian hurt Ara enough when all Leo did was make her happy? Then again, this is why I'm not Mrs. Kapamilya Network Honcho Dudette right?

More from YS's mangled vocabulary:

~ Vix Evapolap: Vicks Vaporub, what else?
~ Stchoopid!: is her way of saying... stupid!
~ Chaka-chaka eyes: irritated eyes (as in... "When that stchoopid girl sprayed the mace, she had chaka-chaka eyes.").
~ Gooju-gooju: of all things, is a DRILL. Yup. For carpentry. Holes in the wall. And stuff. We go inside True Value one evening looking for those much-needed shelves for my room and she asks the salesman, "To install these we need that gooju-gooju right?" [Insert ground swallowing me up here.]
~ Hang-hang: anything maanghang. She loves her Japanese, Chinese and Korean spices so much that I wonder why she never got the word correctly. At dinnertime, it's always, "Yupie (my beloved yaya), my hang-hang please!"

Teehee.

Top 10 Things That Bite At This Point In My Life:

10. These 10 friggin' pounds I've been tryin' to shed.

09. No more American Idol. No more hilarious auditioners I can mock and make myself feel better about. (I'm a frustrated singer b-but hey, at least I'm no William Hung!) No more kewl talent competition that our local talent searches are copying to the letter. No more Simon Cowell. Waah!

08. Lucy Torres-Gomez's Love Lucy newspaper column. Used to enjoy reading it weekly, but now it's like, C'MON GURL! No one's life is THAT purr-fect. I mean, you're married to Richard Gomez for crying out loud. Get real, will ya?!

07. Running outta vodka halfway through the night. Irritate!

06. People pressuring me to get hitched when their marriages are all in the dawghouse. It's like convincing someone to follow you jump off a cliff. Duh.

05. Weecked Sister. Tsk tsk. Could she BE more @#$%*&^?!

04. Being broke. I'm not poor, but I'm always broke. Even with my paycheck in my hand, I'm still broke. That is sooo frustrating.

03. No more Rachel, Monica, Phoebe, Joey, Ross and Chandler. 'Nuff said.

02. Prez GMA winning a second term. Here's to more corrupt years for our poor third-world nation! Bet her hubby's in ecstasy 24/7 nowadays.

01. Mid-life crisis. You never quite understand what it's all about till you turn 35 and it hits you. Halfway through my life, what have I accomplished? Why do I have all these regrets? Where do I go from here? How do I get the courage to do what I hafta do? Sigh. To quote Rachel Green: "I really thought I hit rock bottom. But today it's like there's rock bottom, 50 feet of crap and me". Whoever said that mid-life was a grrreat experience was a big fat liar.

I’m laughing my head off.

Finally watching Along Came Polly (a.k.a. When Grace Met Rachel) in full after checking it out a few weeks ago and, as much as I ain’t fond of toilet humor, Ben Stiller does it sooo well. Jennifer Aniston’s easygoing comedic skills also shine in this film. It’s funfunfun to see her outside of Fwends. Speaking of which… SOB. I am sooo not over my fave show being over. Next topic, puh-leeze.

So… not unless you’ve been living under a rock or you’re one of those people who pretend to be too cool to get on the bandwagon with the rest of us suckers, you must know by now that Fantasia Barrino won the title of American Idol.

The finals night was HUGE. It was held at the mah-ve-lous Kodak Theatre in Hollywood ala-Oscars… t’was star-studded (Paul Anka, Ray Romano)… the performances were great (especially the reunion number of the 12 finalists)… and most importantly, Simon was in a cool pinstriped coat. Hoo-wah!

I’m glad that Fantasia won. I’m not her biggest fan b-but… like what Simon said before, being an American Idol doesn’t entail just having the talent. One also has to be DIFFERENT.

Diana DeGarmo & LaToya London both have the talent.

Amy Adams, Jasmine Trias, Matt Rogers and most especially, John Stevens are different.

My Top 5 choices (see Much Ado About Bidding Jasmine Adieu) have both. Fantasia just so happens to be the best of the bunch.

Of course, these are just my opinion. If you don’t agree with me, er… duh. Make your own journal.

Have you ever been gaining weight at such a rapid phase that you actually FEEL your body getting heavier and heavier? I mean, God bless them, but sometimes I wonder how them overweight women on Oprah carry themselves coz lately, I’ve been having a helluva hard time doing just that.

I’ve been such an oink lately, it’s like I’m preggers or something. (I wish!) Aside from chicken breast, I haven’t eaten meat for the longest time. The other day though, I had a big, well-done Tenderloin Ala-Pobre Steak with Mashed Potatoes after a generous helping of Caesar’s Salad and Gambas (by the way, I’ve never tasted Gambas as yummeeee as that in Café Adriatico before, you’ve GOTTA try it!). Blueberry Cheesecake that melted in my mouth capped off my dinner with YS. Burp.

Since I haven’t been to the gym and the badminton courts lately, I’ve taken to mountain biking my way around the neighborhood early evenings to at least get some exercise in my daily lazy routine. Anything to lose the pounds, lemme tell ya. More importantly, anything to keep myself in tip-top shape. Didja know that a person who exercises at least 30 minutes per week cuts his risk of having a heart attack by around 25%, and those who exercise for 2 hours or more per week do so by around 60%? True story. Let that be your food for thought tonight. Let’s you and I MOVE, people!

Oooh, belated haberday to EBC's Laney! We looove you li'l China gurl!