kidnapped heroes

Just finished watching this series called KIDNAPPED, which is a story about a wealthy family whose son gets kidnapped for a period of 12 days. An investigative team is assigned to find him, headed by an ex-FBI operative played by Jeremy Sisto (of former CLUELESS fame).


Needless to say, I LOVED IT! Heard that this series was produced by NBC last year and they instructed the writers to wrap up the story in 13 episodes, to make the series more "intense" and avoid being "dragging". But, for some reason, only five episodes were aired and the show was suddenly cancelled. Good for me (and every other fan of this show), the entire set of 13 episodes was recently released in DVD. Watch it, folks. You'll be glad you did :)

I'm now onto my next series, HEROES, which is still an ongoing show (a hit show, if I may add) in the States, also by NBC, about a group of ordinary people discovering they had extraordinary powers. At first I thought this was just a rip-off of the XMen, but hey, surprise of all surprises, it's actually really good! I'm just on my first two episodes so far, and I LOVE IT!

giddy giggly mushy...

I just can't help it-- I LOVE HIM, I LOVE HIM, I LOVE HIM!

at least i can say i've been to qatar....

So I finally survived Qatar. At 5am yesterday, our team arrived safely back in Manila after a horrendously long, horrendously tiring adventure at Doha.

Did I enjoy it, you ask? Well, let me give a short recap:

1. Apparently, tall white long-haired girls with chinita eyes are a rare sight in Doha. Everyone, and I mean everyone, kept staring at me as though I'm from outer space. Also, the guys there seem to be in severe drought for living, breathing women. I've hereby reached my quota for the "I love you, miss!" and the "Hey there, whats your name?" pick-up lines. I've also had it up to here on the oogling eyes and the huge smiles from random strangers. I swear, Qataris put the Pinoy kanto boys here to shame. They look like little angels in comparison.

2. The aroma of the place-- oh my Lord! I finally understood where the smell comes from. Apart from the fact that they do not change clothes nor shower for at least 4 days, they also use some horrific type of perfume that seems to be half-part sweat and half-part vinegar. Eeew.

3. Oh, and let's not forget the fact that we almost died in an almost-stampede at our hugely-attended event. I swear, ang squatter, kahit bihisan mo at dalhin mo sa abroad, squatter pa rin! I am not normally a swearing type of person, but on this trip, I learned that injecting "punyeta" and "fucker" in every other sentence somehow gets my message across the mob better. Oh, and we should definitely add "life insurance" as part of our must-haves in our next trip.

4. Not only did I miss pork like hell, the food is crazy expensive and crazy bland! And there's nowhere else safe to eat but Dairy Queen.

Hay... Those were the main highlights. I think my memory is voluntarily purging the other gruesome details as I get acclimatized back to life in Manila. I just tried to make myself feel better by buying myself 2 pairs of shoes in Zara on our last day there. Might as well get something for all the trouble. :-p

Oh well... at the very least, at least I can say I've been to Qatar. Few people in my social circle can say the same :-p

Then again, few people in my world will get assigned to go to United Arab Emirates and Saudi Arabia before the mid-year ends. FUCK FUCK FUCK.

But hey, let's focus on the bright side. Every trip to the Middle East will make me appreciate home more. I'M F*CKING CRAZY IN LOVE WITH MANILA RIGHT NOW!

doha, here i come...

Tomorrow, I'm set to leave for Doha, Qatar, as part of our brand's world tour 2007- Middle East leg. Alas, as opposed to my splendid Hawaii trip last year, f*ck of all f*cks, this year's budget would only allow for an economy-class ticket for me.

Lest you think me a spoiled rich kid whining about riding with the masses, you must first understand that Arabian airlines' economy-seats look more like chairs off PhilTranCo buses than Singapore Airlines-esque plush lush cushioned seats. What stands between your cheek and your seatmate's cheek is probably about 1 to 1.5 inches. The back rests do not recline and there's very minimal legroom. Also, since this is what one terms as "an OFW flight" (Doha being a prime destination of Filipino workers), it's bound to be a noise-filled flight too. Add to that the fact that Arabs elicit an illogical fear in me, and the flight duration is 10.5 hours! Non-stop!

And the "aroma", I can just imagine...

LORD HELP ME, PLEASE!

On the upside, my darling beau is treating me to an early Valentine's date at Paseo Uno this evening. Sort of a send-off slash Valentine's treat slash consuelo de bobo for the dreadful trip up ahead. Love love love love him!

More updates when I get back. Pray that I'll survive!

my mom's voice

As much as I may hate it sometimes, my mother's is the voice is in my head. No one else in this whole world can bother me as much as her, I'm sorry to say. Though, admittedly, this fact also swings the other way (in that praises somehow ring nicer when they come from her), she can have this annoying choke-hold on me like no other being ever created. It's so frustrating sometimes, especially when she nags me and tries to make 'predictions' about me and my life.

I know she's just looking out for me, and she just wants the best for me. But sometimes, I just wish she'd stop the doomsday monologue and just be supportive. I just wish she'd stop picking on what he doesn't have and focus on the fact that he makes me so happy and that he's the one person who can make me feel like I'm the center of the universe. That's just not something you throw away.

Her little nuggets of irritation (she fancies her method to be 'tough love' when really, it's just 'tough'-- tough to the ears) just keep going on and on about how terrible it would be if I didn't get the life she got from my dad or will get from a "much more deserving" man. Aarrrgh, Lord knows no one can push my buttons better than my mother. She knows just where to hit. How can she not-- I think she programmed me herself!

Inspite of all this, though, I just can't muster enough courage to tell her off. To tell her that, no matter how scary those "hardships" she describes I'll have to suffer through may be, nothing scares me more than not having him in my life.

There, I've said it. Though not to the one person who needs to hear it most. She'll think me foolish for saying that-- naive, really-- but it's the truth. Losing him scares me shitless. And that fear is the only thing now drowning out my mother's voice. I never thought I'd see the day where something will have as much endurance.