jesus, is that what I think it is--

2:00 p.m. Done with today's newspaper. Turns out: We have a Super SWAT thing that went unused on Monday. Mamarazzi has mixed reviews. And Aga Muhlach is already 41. Oh jesus.

Life roundup: Solo flight yesterday was a success. Eastwood with the Ates last night was awesome.

And oh, jesus, CHRISTINA HENDRICKS!

One day, I'd like to be this polo able to wear a guy's polo this sexily.

GAAAAAHAS($!*@#(!)!#*$!)(#@! you do know I'm lesbian, right?



Also, round-up of iTouch games we've been digging lately: (iPod touch games, panira ng buhay LOL)

Doodle Soccer! It's not as easy as it looks! It is very awesome!

Monster Dash! Guns, vamps, mummies, zombies, RUNNING! SOLD!

Life update: My girlfriend (slowly recovering from sickness; so far we've been running a crazy antiseptic-obsessed household to contain the disease successfully) bought me a new hoody, having complained for so long that none of my jackets had hoods.

Self-taken, in the absence of company. *sniff*

2:14 p.m. I wonder how Schatzi's doing (at Museong Pambata with JI for read-along. Good luck you guys!)

2:17 p.m. OMG the UP vs UST game is on! Turns TV on. Here we go. Remember how this turned out the last time? We nearly had it but went to overtime and lost there? SIGH. I wish I had someone to drink with.

2:19 p.m. LOL Mr Y just totally dropped by to check if I were solo flying again. Told him Schatzi's out to cover Read-Along. UP vs UST. UST is running. Three successive point-less possessions for UP. HAY... UP. Hayop.

2:42 p.m. MARTIN REYES HITS A THREE! 24-20, UP-UST.

2:55 p.m. First half 31-26, UP up by five.

3:13 p.m. NICE FAST BREAK UP! KEEP GOING!

3:27 p.m. Mike Silungan with a first basket less than a minute to go in the 3rd Quarter. UP ahead by 6, 51-45. 3rd Quarter ends

3:44 p.m. HAY PUNYETA ALANGANIN NA NAMAN. ANO BA UP.

3:56 p.m. OMG MIKE SILUNGAN MAKES THE THREE-POINTER.

4:14 p.m. HAY. So Alvin Padilla hit a long three-pointer with 0.6 secs left. It narrowed lead to one. Sayang walang foul but I don't think we would've survived OT anyway. But still - back-to-back miracle three-pointers. Who would've thought? This leaves me strangely satisfied. Final: 66-68, UP-UST. Good fight. See you sa cheerdance competition.

5:03 p.m. SCHATZI'S HERE! *JUMPS AROUND* MAY KAUSAP NA AKO HAHAHA.

Also: clicking through Dorothy Surrenders (oh my gay gay heart) and found this:

A Kite That Couldn’t Be Tied Down:

"IN honor of Persephone!" she announced, cracking open a pinkish orb. She handed me half and I stared, shocked, at the gleaming maroon seeds. She was plucking them with abandon, letting the juice stain her fingers, not caring. I tried to breathe.

It was winter in Pittsburgh, I was 18 years old, and I had never seen a pomegranate. I’d met her weeks after arriving in Pittsburgh for college. Somewhat randomly her boyfriend had asked me: "Would you like to come to our party? We’re going to have this Balkan band from Albuquerque and a Norwegian folk singer play, an Indonesian shadow puppet performance, and everyone has to bring a pie."

At a time when other freshman girls were comparing Wal-Mart dorm room décor and giggling over tipsy messages scribbled on hallway wipe boards, an invitation to an off-campus party with artsy 20-somethings was surreal. I went, terrified, hoping at best to merely glimpse the Bohemian lifestyle my run-of-the-mill suburban upbringing had undoubtedly denied me. Instead, I fell in love.

Oh wow. The lengths you go to for that girl. Le sigh. I remember walking from Batasan to -- oh never mind. Anyway. This piece takes you from Pittsburgh to not-quite Japan, to Mongolia, to kiteflying in China's Tiananmen Square. Yes, it has kites. You know, I have a thing for kites.

And this ending makes me want to hug her.

"One day she showed up with a new boyfriend. The only thing worse than losing her was the realization that I’d never had her."

Oh damn. These things leave me speechless. So. Here's Dorothy Snarker's rejoinder to the NY Times article by Lisa Ruth Brunner quoted massively above:

We all have that girl, the first, the one. She may not have worn thrift store cast-offs or left delicate paper sculptures in her wake, but she was how we knew. We probably didn’t travel to the Gobi Desert or Moscow or even Pittsburg with her, but she opened us to a wider world. The girl we will always think is pretty. The girl who will always make us catch our breath. She might be sitting right beside you. She might be only moments in time. Still this story, these words, brought her rushing back sweetly into that small space you forgot was empty.