A kiss in the air and a little black dress...

...makes a really nice date.

I'm so sure the person hired to click a mouse to take a photo of people in a pod hanging from a gigantic wheel had a lot of fun watching a young not-couple making out in the air.

And then when we got out, a man 'working to help put homeless people in shelters' adeptly forced us to 'donate' to the cause by giving him money in exchange for a magazine that we might have been able to pick up at the nearest LGF center. Yes, the magazine had the gay map of Mcr.

Then the little black dress was seen, tried on, and bought. Topshop!

What is the best way to ask someone to be your girlfriend?

By going to a stationary store, trying out your favorite pen, and writing the question on a blank piece of paper intended for trying out pens.
That was the most compulsive thing I have ever done.

And so we go from not-girlfriend to girlfriend, booked haircut appointments at the same time and place, had our first official planned date, and walked back home in the rain together, all in one day.

I think I deserve a pat on the back for that one.

Breakfast in bed with extra sides...anyone?

That elephant was bigger than the GOP, but it floats really well in water

And so it was Friday, the traditional G Unit Cultural Food Night, the meatballs were ballin' and the mash was mashin' and the carrots were orange. Tiger Tiger was on the agenda.

We made it to Friday without getting caught too red-handed, but all of a sudden, the elephant decided it was more important the the ironing board, and the American decided that being American right after dinner was most appropriate.

Thus, the questioning began.

'He felt like something is going between you two. I mean, let's let the elephant out of the room, 'cause this week has been...awkward...'

Cue uncontrollable blushing, lambrini drinking, and chocolate munching.

Turns out, they both had an idea, and were too polite to even gossip about it. China is relieved.

Post-sneaking-around, and first thing we do is dip in a tub of warm candy bubbles and give the walls something to talk about after 2 decades of routine baths and the occasional laundry. Also, pheromones mixing to produce enough to give men within a mile radius the most confused boners of their lives. We are so goddamn hot.

Move with me to Canada please.

An oceanic kitchen lies between us

But we have no trouble crossing it.
But then again, thank god it's there, or else revision would be history.

Let's waste time
Chasing cars
Around our heads

Until someone swings the door open and yells out my name and says 'she's in the flat somewhere!'
That's my cue to get under the covers be as fucking quiet as possible. Quiet. SHHH! Quieter than when I took my SATs.

So she turns the light off, and opens the door, entertains these guests while pretending to have gone to bed already. Well, technically, she had gone to bed...but for other purposes.

And during the whole 5 minutes that this entertaining went on, I was clutching my jaw so hard that my molars were about to crack. Also, not breathing.

But I must admit, all this sneaking around is exciting. No. A better word would be challenging. The challenge is to make it to the end of the week without getting caught. If that happens, MI6 has their new James Bond. Yes, I do think James Bond is not a person, but a code name, and that Bond and his girl ARE James Bond. I'm the geek in pajamas after all.

Please please please...

Begging leads to...bathroom breaks every 10 minutes. ^^
Promise, I won't do it again. d(*.*)b

Final stretch

HEL to MCR. Poleteli, poleteli, poleteli, poleteli.

Today's to-do list:
-Watch My Neighbour Totoro
-RUN to Sainsbury's to get ingredients for quiche and cookies.
-Not freeze in the process of running.
-File and buff nails.
-Continue re/learning various pieces.
-Bake quiche and cookies.
-Wait.
-Wait some more.
-Possibly wait some more.
-We'll see.

On midnight deals and fried testicles

Guess what? The Baguio Athletic Bowl, which is part of my beloved home city's Burnham Park, which was designed by Daniel Burnham a century ago, is going to be 'leased' for 25 years to a Korean 'corporation.'

For how much?

100,00 PHP/month, with a miniscule rise every 5 years.

Let me convert that into dollars for you. My parents pay roughly 2000 USD monthly in mortgage, plus about 500 USD monthly on my mum's Rav4. Guess what? They can totally fucking rent the Athletic Bowl if they dropped the mortgage and the car loan.

And what do they get? 7 hectares of a track oval, a swimming pool, tennis courts, basketball courts, and proximity to a lot more green space and, of course, the rest of Burnham Park.

So what do these almost-anonymous Koreans plan to do with all of this?
Build a hotel.
That's right.
A hotel.
An ugly ugly ugly hotel. Wth.
My friends who are studying architecture can design something better than the shit those Koreans are proposing.

I'm not bashing Korean architecture in any way (or Koreans in general, I love civilized Koreans who respect other cultures), but...take a look at this shit man.
http://www.i-baguio.com/mayor-council-okay-25-year-lease-of-athletic-bowl-to-koreans/4/

Fkkkkkk that. They're not building a hotel. They're building Korea Town.

Oh my country, my country...how did you manage to fry your balls and feed them to street dogs in just 3 decades?

I dug up some scores

I dug up the score to Agustin Barrios-Mangore's 'La Catedral,' and guess what...

I realised that I haven't played any part of this piece for over half a year now, and I've been learning how to play the whole piece for the past two years.

Talk about SLOW.

Lento, lento, lento...

Yes I can.

3 English months and a trip to Scotland later...

I finally made the perfect cuppa.For my non-British non-readers, a cuppa happens to be...drum roll please...a cup of tea.

Indeed, 3 months of living in England and a trip to Scotland later, I came across the magic that is a perfect cup of tea. It seems that the British have their 6th sense dedicated to tea making. Every cup of tea I've been offered by a British national, be it Tetley's or Twinnings, has been a cup of magnificence.

But today, I took a sip of a blend from Whittards just as Isabelle Aubret's 'Ma plus belle histoire d'amour' begins to play on Spotify, and by God, je suis tombée amoreuse. The colour, strength, sweetness, temperature, everything was in working order.

This tea was so good I took a bath with it. Jealous?

I have a theory.

I have just gotten back from a 4-day stint in Edinburgh where I was interviewed, slipped on ice and hit a pole, was felt up by a poltergeist, froze in my sleep, froze in my sleep and took an ice cold shower in the men's shower room, did not get drunk, and missed the party of the year.

Case in point, Edinburgh is the most beautiful city I have ever visited. Suck it NYC.

My theory is that Edinburgh is so beautiful, it granted me the bit of Britishness that I really wanted.

Or I got so fucking cold the ghosts underneath the Auld Reekie granted me the bit of Britishness that I really needed.

Creepy poltergeist of Old Niddry, yes I'm looking at you.