Happiest place on earth?

+ =
Traffic + Huge Disneyland Crowd = A Peeved Lulu*

OK, so I went to Disneyland this weekend. I've already chatted with my local Disneyland expert, Tater Pie, and she is aware that if I am to go back to Disneyland, I'm going to need the following -

1. A driver. Or a plane ticket. It was an eight hour road trip. Eight hours. (We made a pitstop in Fresno.) Sure, I wasn't driving. But I was trying to keep the Man company because he was so sleepy from a hard week's work and he already drives 2+ hours on his daily commute. We didn't get to our hotel until 2:00am. I woke up at 6:00am. Maybe I need to take a day off so it's a three-day weekend but I don't have the time off so I have to squish it in 2 1/2 days.

2. Less people. I knew I didn't deal well with crowds. This just confirmed my suspicion. It is very very crowded in Mickey's hood and that just isn't my scene. That's why I don't shop during the Christmas rush. Tater assured me that it will be less buck wild in November. I couldn't move freely, there were people everywhere. And, of course, that meant a variety of people with a variety of thoughts regarding personal space. Some need very little. I am not one of those people.

3. Strollers. I'm not hating on families or little folk. But I hate - let me emphasize HATE - the people who charge at me with their strollers, nip my heels with their strollers, or basically use it as a defensive device. I don't want to play football, I just want to walk peacefully, man.

P'tater assured me that my next trip will be a lot of fun. I hope so. Or I might have to push some people down in the happiest place on earth. Just kidding. Maybe. I'm looking forward to going in November. I think it will be really cool to go right before the holiday season. Does anyone know when Disneyland puts up their Christmas decorations?


*Isn't that the cutest angry pup you've ever seen?!

Thank you, Demondoll & Kim ...

... I love me some survey forwards.
I don't really like them.

And now you do, too! I know you don't really, either.

To quote Dave Chapelle who quoted Rick James (with a slight alteration), "I'm Lulu, Bitches - Enjoy yo'self!"
I don't really think you're a bitch, I just like to say it.

Four jobs I have had in my life:
1. ALICE 97.3 Sarah & Vinnie Morning Show Intern
2. Bare Escentuals make up artist/ sales associate
3. Burlington Coat Factory Sales Associate (exactly ten years ago!)
4. ABC7 Television Production Assistant

Four movies I'd watch over and over (or have watched over and over):
1. 50 First Dates
2. My Big Fat Greek Wedding
3. 10 Things I Hate About You
4. Ocean's Eleven

Four places I have lived:
1. San Franciso, CA
2. Hayward, CA
3. Daly City, CA
4. (That's it, there's no 4th! Does Treasure Island count? It's kind of part of SF, kind of not.)

Four TV shows I love to watch:
1. Grey's Anatomy
2. The Office
3. So You Think You Can Dance (Guilty pleasure!)
4. 24 (just got hooked this summer)

Four places I have been on vacation:
1. Oahu
2. Maui
3. Phillippines
4. Germany

Four of my favorite foods:
1. See's milk chocolate truffles
2. Sushi
3. Sashimi
4. Shanghai lumpia

Four places I would rather be right now:
1. Santa Cruz
2. Waikiki
3. Bicol
4. Any big Las Vegas hotel spa

Four friends whom I have tagged that I think will respond:
1. Miss Lips
2. Pookie
3.Taters
4. yer mama

How I met the Man

Back in 2001, my old roommate had been dating a boy named Arniel. I ended up getting him a job and we started to hang out after work. He would bring along his roommate/best friend, Lorena. We all partied hard together and had lots of fun.
They both belonged to a service organization and Arniel asked if I would narrate a documentary he made for them. Lorena's parents were having a party to celebrate the money and in-kind donations the organization raised to bring to the Philippines. I was invited because of my participation in the documentary. I had attended another party that same day (it was at Tel and Sassy's!) and I found it hard to tear myself away ... there was wine and cheese, for crap's sake! But I felt like I should go to the other one so I did. I brought my friend, Regina, with the intention of only staying an hour and making my way back to Treasure Island.
I drove us across town to Lake Merced. The party at Lorena's ended up to be an intimate gathering. Dammit, no way to slip out without notice! There were about six people there, sitting around the table. Regina sat down at the table, looking at me, silently begging me to bring her back to the other party. I stood next to Arniel and Lorena's as they introduced me to everyone. I met Lorena's mom and dad, a family friend named Gus and Lorena's other best friend, The Man.
Regina and I snacked a little, watched the documentary, and asked about trip preparations to the Philippines. True to my word, after an hour, I told them we had another party to attend (I left out that it was the same party we just came from) so Regina and I had to leave. We wished them a safe trip and they all said good bye. I was excited to get back to the drinking festivities back on Treasure Island.
As we headed back, Regina asked, "What did you think of the guy next to me?"
"The Man?" I replied. "What about him?"
"Don't you think he's cute? I think he's very cute!" Regina exclaimed. "You should find out about him! You know I'm not particularly attracted to Asian guys but he's cute!"
"I guess so. But I think he's gay." (Yes, I actually said and believe it.)
"What?!" Regina blurted. "I don't think so! Why would you think that?"
"I don't know! He's so handsome he's almost ... pretty. He looks very put-together. No straight guy could care that much about his appearance. Besides, what straight guy wears a snug sweater?" (It's true.)
Regina replied, "I think you're wrong!"
"Fine, I'll call Arniel. He'll tell me." I said.
I dialed his cell. "Hey! Are you still at the party? Good. Are you near The Man? Well, walk away from him then. Hey, is he gay?"

Pause.

"He's not? Are you sure?"

Pause.

"Oh. No, no. I just assumed is all. Thanks!"
"Well, what's the verdict?" Regina asked.
"Mmm, you were right. He's straight. But you have to admit, he was very pretty!"
"Whatever, you should go for him. He's cute." she insisted.
"Mmm-hmm."

It would be three more months before I would run into The Man again.

I received permission from The Man to write this entry. And before anyone thinks I was off my rocker, more (gay and straight) men than women commented about my new boyfriend's good looks. I suspect he may be the pretty one in this relationship!

I know, I've been a very bad girl

I hate it when y'all don't blog. It ticks me off because I'm reading the same stuff. I wonder, "What's going on? No one is too busy to blog! I mean, just a few lines, for crap's sake! Give me something to read! Criminy."
Now I done did it to you!
Well, I'm tired.
It's the week of my 7:30am - 6:00pm shift and I'm pooped.
This past weekend, I attended a bridal shower retreat. My friend is pretty awesome. (She's the one who picked a dress that was under a $100 and a something I can wear again.) Maria decided she didn't want a conventional bridal shower or an expensive spa treat [sidenote: I am A-OK with a spa retreat, believe you me. But since this wedding is in Hawaii, I appreciate not having to spend money.] We went to her mom's cabin in Sonora, drank, swam in a swimming hole (my first time!), drank, swam in a lake, drank, sat in the hot tub, went fishing, drank, and ate a lot of food. And drank.
OK, I actually didn't get drunk. I just sipped a little bit all weekend to sustain a nice buzz. With the heat and the hot tub, it was pretty easy to do. Because now that I'm in my late 20s, it is unacceptable to yak. It's just bad form. I mean, we all need to learn from our early 20s, right?
Now I'm tired and this work week is lasting F-O-R-E-V-E-R. And it's only Tuesday. Hot damn.

Random thoughts while driving to work

Break-ups.
Rest assure, Jon-Jon and I are just dandy. Here, let me quickly give you my train of thought. "What to write about. Exs. No, exs are such a negative subject and, personally, a waste of time. The Man. I'll write about how we met. Oooh, that's good. But wait, what about that time between the ex and The Man? Shoot, I will never forget how much break-ups hurt."
So there you have it. Break-ups.
I remember being the breaker-upper. Sure, I was the one who got to call the shot and sort of prep for the situation. But it still sucks. If you're an overall good person, you don't want to be the asshole. And that's what you are when you're the breaker-upper. Doesn't matter if you didn't cheat. Doesn't matter if it's because you need to focus on something else (and when is it ever really that?) It doesn't matter what wonderful rationale you may have in your pocket. You're still the asshole.
I remember wanting to do it for a while but being chicken. And I remember the moment where I just broke. That's the only word I can think to describe it. He had flaked on meeting me and my friend in the city because he was sick and he had wanted me to end the night with my friend right then and there, go home, and take care of him. I remember not feeling a twinge of sympathy but feeling very frustrated and exasperated. I remember him saying, "Do you want to break up with me or something?" just to be dramatic. But, to his surprise, I answered and said yes.
I also remember being the brokee (you know what I mean.) Well, I was cheated on so "same smell, different taste." I couldn't eat, couldn't sleep, couldn't breathe. I wish I could say I was exaggerating, that I took it a lot better than most, that I was one bad ass mo'fo. But I would be lying. I was a freakin' wreck. I could not stop crying. What's funny is I wasn't even in love at this point. I just felt betrayed. I think what freaked me out is that I had no control and that person's love seemed like one of the few sure things in my life.
I smoked like a chimney and drank like a fish. I would take advantage of happy hours during the week. I went out every weekend because I couldn't stand being by myself. I talked to anyone who would listen about how big of an asshole he was. I was hurt, I was angry. I was scared to death that no one would love me again. At least, as much as he did and he obviously didn't love me as much as we both thought he did.
It took a while. I think it took at last six months before I could sleep through the night. Eventually, I was OK with being home on a Saturday night and just watching TV. I knew when I was no longer sad and bitter that I was OK with being a single woman. That I liked being a single woman. Because it was far better than being with someone who was all wrong for me. And then one day, and I wish I could remember the exact day, I was actually able to say that I am HAPPY. My life is good. I have a marvelous family, fantastic friends and a truly good life. (Sure, I bawled my eyes out watching "In Style: Celebrity Weddings" but who doesn't? I didn't even want to get married!) Despite that, I was a happy young woman. I was in my mid-20s, ready to kick some ass and take some names.
Then, some months later, I met The Man. But that's another entry.

Captain Save-a ...

Bunny.

What did you think it would be?
My Man, Jon-Jon, is THE Man. But you knew that already. He has a heart of gold.
When he was living with two roommates last year, one of them got the bright idea that he would take after his uncle and raise bunnies. For food. Never mind that Mark had never ever raised animals with the end result of making them a meal. Or that he lived in a suburban neighborhood. Or that he just sucks big balls for wanting to mate bunnies to end up slaughtering. Yah, I said it. (And that's not even why I think he sucks. But you'll soon understand.) For whatever reason, Mark wanted to raise two bunnies and turn them into fifty. Or something like that.
Their other roommate, Mario, was indifferent to the whole idea. He is also related to the uncle that raises bunnies (he's Mark's cousin) but didn't give two hoots what Mark did. Anyway, Jon-Jon had no idea that this hairbrain idea was cookin' in Mark's head until, one day, there were two bunnies in their backyard, like so -


"Awwww." Of course, how could I not think that as soon as I saw them? Well, they don't like people. They scurried away as soon as they smelled, heard, or saw you. I admired the bunnies from afar.
They didn't have a cage, they just roamed free like some dog named Sparky. They ate the grass but since Mario wasn't much of a gardener (it's his house,) it was fine. Weeks went by and they just lived in the backyard. Then Jon-Jon would repeatedly tell me that he would come home and see their water bottles empty and no food in their dish. Soon, he was feeding them. Then they ran out of food. Then Jon-Jon was buying their food and treats.
One night, probably after six months went by, we were on the phone and I started laughing, "Baby, you are a bunny owner!"
"No I'm not!" He exlaimed. This is a man who loves dogs and, to this day, tries to convince me that we should own a german shepard because surely I will think they are cuddly. I'm still not convinced.
"My love," I said, "no matter how prissy you may think it sounds, it's true. You are a bunny owner."
Fast forward to the beginning of this month. The bunnies have been there for nearly a year. Jon-Jon moves out. But he still picks up his bills from his old place. And for the past two weeks, he's dropped by and picked up his mail. Out of habit, he checked on the bunnies. They didn't have food or water.
It's been 100+ degrees lately.
I was beside myself when he told me. I wanted to kick Mark in the nuts on behalf of the bunnies. Of course, Jon-Jon filled their water bottles and gave them food. But he can't visit every couple of days and the bunnies need to be fed and given water almost every day. Then last Saturday, he told me that he had to wash his hands clean of the bunnies. He said we can't worry about them anymore b/c we just can't.
I felt like a criminal b/c I knew animal cruelty was happening. Look, you may think I'm twisted but I can't throw stones at anyone that wants to eat bunnies. I eat cow, pig, chicken and fish. But I canNOT deal with starving an animal and letting them die such a horrible slow death. For crap's sake! Not only does that make you a royal prick but everyone knows a starved animal does NOT TASTE GOOD. I know, NOT the point. But still. You have to admit.
I called the Humane Society. Then I realized that if Animal Control came, Mario and Mike would think Jon-Jon, the bunny whisperer, narked and be pissed. So I didn't make a report. But I did ask the operator about a bunny's health and she said that there is no way they would survive in this kind of heat w/o water or food. Right. How could they?
I then begged Jon-Jon to ask Mario (b/c Mark sucks SO BAD he is hardly home and Mario has been the one sort of taking care of them) if we could have the bunnies. "Please! Just lie and say we want them! We'll take them to the SPCA." No tears but after much begging, he relented and called Mario. Mario told him OF COURSE we can have the bunnies. Whooohooo!
The End. A Happily-Ever-After, if you will.
Well, not quite. After work today, Jon-Jon went to Mario's house and helped him catch the semi-wild bunnies. They make no sounds but they scratched up Jon-Jon plenty to show that they do not like to be handled. Once captured, Jon-Jon and Mario regrouped. I don't know what transpired but the bunnies are now on their way to the Uncle's farm. Jon-Jon said they will get fattened up and, um, go to that big crockpot in the sky.
Hey, I tried. And at least on the farm, it's the Uncle's livelihood to raise animals for food so he knows better than to let them run out of food or water. Because that's MEAN. And just bad business for him.
OK, so the story isn't exactly warm and fuzzy or have a happy ending. But Jon-Jon did take them out of a terrible environment. The bunnies are going to be reunited with their brothers and sisters on the farm. And, well, eventually go to bunny heaven.

It's too damn hot to knit

But if I can manage to do so, I'm going to knit accessories that I can rock but won't make me perspire.

With that said, I give you ....

THE PURSE:
This is my first attempt at making a purse, my second time felting (for you non-knitters, "felting" means washing/drying the yarn project so it shrinks and the stitches are no longer visible.)

I like it a lot. I think it's because the handles are pretty bad ass. I also like it because there's no lining. Lulu don't do no sewing.

In case you can't picture it working with an outfit, here you go:

Just because I like this picture ...

Victoria, Canada
2005

A trip down memory lane

Last Friday, The Man and I had dinner with my old roomie, MsLips, and Rog. ML and I were roommates back in 2000. How we were put together was a bit like The Real World ... we were four strangers that were thrown together by our university to live in a townhouse on Treasure Island. ML and I only lived together for five months (she graduated mid-school year) but we ended up friends and are still friends six years later.
Our Significant Others (The Man and Rog) were not our Significant Others six years ago. But we're all connected. Let's see if you can follow:
When ML and I were roommates, we threw a Christmas party. You get a few crashers. Like Neil who was brought by someone who got an invite. ML ended up dating Neil. When ML moved back to Southern California, she made sure Neil and I became friends because 1) I ended up getting him a job and 2) it was a good way for her to keep tabs on him (not in a jealous girlfriend way, more of a smart girlfriend way.) Neil and I started to hang out and party a lot. Neil also partied with his best friend, Lorena. By default, I partied with Lorena. A lot. Lorena had another best friend. It was The Man. I met The Man when we celebrated one of Lorena's birthdays. And that's how it all started for us :)
But what about Rog? OK. I met him back in 1997. He was The Ex's roomie. Also, when I became a single gal, I was footloose and fancy free. I had quite a few party cliques. Rog and his girlfriend at that time were one of them. I used to joke and say they were my new boyfriend and took them everywhere with me. One of those parties I dragged them to was ML's birthday party at a club when she came to the Bay Area for a visit. ML's party was also The Man and my first date.
A good long time after ML's birthday party and after inevitable break ups, ML and Rog started dating. And they have been dating for around three years now.
So did I lose you?
It was nice to see ML and Rog last week. I had so much history with everyone at the table. I met Rog when I was 18 years old. I met ML when I was transitioning from being a college kid with a boyfriend to a single grown woman (cue "Not a Girl, Not Yet a Woman.") And I met The Man when it was time for me to meet my true love four years ago. So there you have it!
We were all going down memory lane and, now looking back, it's so funny how good all of us were about editing anything having to do with ex's. See, we were ALL with different people way back when. So we naturally omitted them whenever we reminsced about a good story. Like when Rog and I were first learning how to snowboard and we both got so pissed about how pathetic we were and tired from falling on our duffs, we busted out cigarettes halfway down the mountain and just smoked away our stress. And cursed. A lot.
It was fun to remember our history together. I partied hard with these people :) I bonded with these people. They know me at different stages of my life. ML and I, in those short five months, confided in each other, went through our very last semester in college together, cooked together and took smoke breaks together ;) What's funny is we actually became closer when she moved back to Southern California.
We haven't been so great about keeping in touch the past couple of years. Boyfriends, new jobs, school and life, in general, does that sometimes. So it was really nice to be able to have dinner with old friends and take a trip down memory lane.
Of course, you can only go so far when you realize how memories like being with the wrong people (which is why they are "ex's") make you want to bust a bitch* and be very happy to be in the present!

*I sincerely hope you know that means make a U-turn. B/c that could have been quite a pornographic reference if you thought otherwise.

He's he-ere ...

(To be fair, that bike is mine. But that's it.)

Taco Hell

I enjoyh Taco Bell. My favorite entree is the Nachos Bellgrande with guacamole, hold the beans.

Today, I was a good little coworker and went on a Taco Bell run for my colleagues. This particular po'dunk Taco Bell didn't have a drive thru so I had the pleasure of walking in and soaking up the ambience. It was typical Taco Bell environment - questionable cleanliness. Waited a couple of minutes in line and then finally put in an order. (I would totally shout out the location but there are a bunch on El Camino Real ... so just beware!)

The cashier had a hacking cough. It was pretty bad but he was polite enough to at least cough in his sleeve. But it was pretty bad. A few things were running through my mind. "Well, he's not preparing the food. He just touched my cash and receipt." As well as, "It's not my food." (Horrible, right? I do have a conscience, though. I would have gone somewhere else if he was the preparer.)

After I ordered, I waited off to the side, wondering if anyone would say anything about his really bad cough. No one did, including me, I admit. His coughing grew worse, becoming more frequent and I saw his eyes were watering. Finally, after ringing up a few more people, he motioned for one of the food preparers to take his place and he walked to the back of the employee area.

I shouldn't have watched him but I couldn't help myself.

I get a clear view of him spitting into a big trash can in the back. It was a cross between spitting and vomiting. I wanted to look away but I didn't. He just kept spitting up. Again, I looked around to see if anyone else saw him. No one else saw. He finally finished and he grabbed a papertowel to wipe his mouth and hands. Oops, nope. He wasn't done yet. He spat up some more. I waited to see if he washed his hands. But all I saw was him wiping his mouth and his hands with a papertowel.

Before I could see if he would go back to the register, my coworkers' food was ready. I totally lost my appetite at that point.

OK, so he didn't touch the food. But still. The hacking, the spitting up and then the seeming absence of hand washing.

UGH.

Are you wondering if I told my coworkers? I did. I wasn't as detailed but I told them because I felt obligated. I did stress, though, that he didn't touch their food. Naturally, they were a little grossed out. But they still ate their bean burritos and ultimate chalupa.

Why you shouldn't date a chickenhead

Sassy, please click here for clarification.

My week

It wasn't the worst.

But it wasn't good.

Here's what put my panties in a twist:
1. Stupid people. They make my job harder and cost me a nice bonus. They make me want to buy a steel toe stiletto and stick it up their hoo-hahs.
2. Food. I eat like it's going to get up and run away.
3. Change. It's great but it causes a lot of stress in the beginning.
4. Power Week. Because every gal loves to be bloated.

Here's why I can still smile:
1. Good coworkers. They remind me that not all people are stupid.
2. Working out. I feel like I'm gaining some control b/c I'm making a real effort to have a healthy lifestyle.
3. The Man. We both had a bad work week but he still makes me laugh. A lot.
4. No More Power Week. All humankind should be thankful for that one. I was ready to start whoopin' some as$.

It's that time of year again!

Well, not really. But I need something to look forward to and get me through tough days.

In case you didn't know, I've been working 7:30am - 6:00pm for the past seven work days. And three times this week, I've worked out from 5:30am to 6:30am. Did I mention that I haven't lost any weight and, in fact, gained? That's always fun and encouraging.

Anyway, guess what I booked this week? MY TRIP TO HAWAII!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I'm trying my damndest to make this an annual tradition.

One of my closest friends is getting married in October and I'm in the wedding. I finally took the time to book our tickets to Hawaii. I'll be there for seven days and The Man will be there for four. It's his first time visiting Oahu (he's been to The Big Island and Maui) and I want to take him to all the places that I've been able to see - the Polynesian Culture Center, the Ihilani Resort, Diamond Head, and of course, Waikiki beach but that's a given because we're staying there. Any other suggestions?

I am so excited. I don't know how I'm going to afford it. I took a fat pay cut with the plan that I will earn it back two fold in a year or so. *Rocking back and forth, sucking my thumb.* I really really really hope that will be the case! Anyhow ...

Bought the tickets, reserved a room at a three-star hotel and Mama Lu is on her way!

Almost makes up for the five pounds I've made friends with and now won't go away.

The Man is a-movin' in

The Man brought over some of his shi.. stuff today.

I thought I could handle it with a smile. I thought I would be a nice person. After all, I want him to move in.

But it was hot. And I had just vaccuumed earlier. And his boxes were heavy and dusty. And there were more than I expected.

Thankfully, The Man has a good sense of humor. And was in a good mood. He saw my stink-eye and pretended not to notice. Then when it got stinkier, he exclaimed with only a hint of sarcasm, "Somebody needs a hug!" And gave me a big ol' dust-filled hug.

It's only just some of his stuff. He still has his clothes. And furniture.

So we put a little over here ...








And here ...









And then some of it in the garage ...








And I've been promised that there's plenty more to come.

Let's evalaute: I'm the youngest of three but I've had my own room since I was a toddler. I shared a room for two years in college and learned to share a teeny tiny space with a stranger.

But it appears I've unlearned all of that when I moved into a house by myself.

It will be OK. I know it will be OK. The Man's great, he's been a part-time roommate and we're just readjusting. (Are you thinking about the bathrooms and the dishes? Because I am.) No seriously, I know it's going to be so much fun and a great turning point in our relationship. I think I'm just a little out of sorts seeing not-my-stuff strewn around the house.

One of the bonuses to his stuff moving in on my (soon-to-be "our") territory is that I have a nice stereo surround sound system for my TV.










Well, it's actually his TV. But now it's "ours" right?

Sweet.

Is Britney the new Whitney?

I know, why should I give a hoot? But I do. I read People magazine and am shamelessly up on current celebrity events.

I caught the Britney/Matt Lauer interview and thought, "What the hell happened?" I don't mean the weight gain because that's no biggie. (Remember how cute Britney was with her sausage curls when she was pregnant the first time?) But oh man.

Pregnant and former pregnant ladies: I thought you weren't supposed to color your hair with a bun in the oven. Am I mistaken? The Brit-Brit was so ... frosty. I miss her dark hair with blonde highlights. There she was, completely bleach blond. With thick kohl eyeliner and frosty pastel eyeshadow. And the short skirt. And platform shoes. And the push up bra paired with a too low shirt. I was taken aback.

Three years ago, she was on top of the world. She was beautiful, had a killer figure and could do no wrong. She could dance, sing (I think) and was just an awesome entertainer. Admittedly, I was envious because how unfair is it that she had a beautiful face, a perfect body, was funny and filthy rich? But no matter what, the girl can make a good dance song. So I like her. Especially when she and Justin broke up. She laid low and gave me a chance to miss her and her catchy jive music.

Now ... she's still super duper rich but she smacks of the Whitney/Bobbi syndrome. I know I don't have to explain myself. Just think about it. Except, of course, Bobbi had a little bit of money and a shred of talent.

I hope she make a comeback. But it ain't looking good :(

"I rock rough and stuff with my afro puffs ...

... rock on, wit cha bad self."

OK, so I didn't have an afro. But I did rock the permed hair.

You didn't believe me, did you?

It's that time ... my ten year reunion. Even though I'm not the first in my blog family to talk about this, it's still a tough choice.

Reunion, or not to reunion?

I know I'm echoing the same sentiments of most people when I say that if I would have wanted to keep in touch with my classmates, I would have done it. And I kept in touch with less than a handful. But I'm curious to see how we all ended up.

I came from a school that was in a middle- to low-income area. There were many bright kids but we just didn't have the resources to make us flourish or to help the kids that had potential but just didn't know it. (Do not MAKE me get into the whole California High School Exit Exam. Well crap, it's my blog so I will say this. It is true that it is a bias exam and many low income kids do not have a chance to pass it because, for the most part, they are receiving a mediocre education. Granted, you aren't doing them any favors by letting them skate by. However, if they made it to senior year, then they have a fighting chance. But you cannot give all youth the same exam - many are ESL or just haven't received the best education possible. To expect them to regurgitate every subject they learned from ninth grade is ridiculous. Universities don't even ask that of its students! I would put money on it that the schools in wealthy areas are taking the time to prep their students for this exam while the kids in poorer areas are expected to fend for themselves. OK, I'm getting off my soapbox now.)

I hope my classmates have succeeded. I hope they are happy with their lives and making a positive impact in their communities. I just don't know if I want to see or hear them talking about themselves. Yes, a person can change a lot in ten years. But if I found them annoying back then, is there any chance we will have changed so much that we'll get along like the best of buds? Maybe. But not likely.

I may go if we have a casual event (I hear it's going to be at Dave & Busters) where I can blend in a public place and duck out without anyone noticing. But if it's at hotel and a black tie affair, I'm going to pass.

Like my perm? I bet my hair was crispier than a KFC drumstick.

Life change

The Man is going to move out of his place because his roommate's fiancee wife is moving in. So The Man will be moving in with me at the end of August this month.

"SAY WHAT?"

Oh no, don't get me wrong, it's good news. I love The Man. I'm open to sharing my personal space with him. We just didn't expect it to be so soon.

He's concerned about my parents - he doesn't want to piss them off. I told him that I would be ticked off if he rented an apartment, kicking down $1,000, just because of that. It's sweet, actually. He respects my parents and wants them to see him in the best possible light. They are reserved, with very old-fashioned values, and don't want their baby living in sin. After all, I am a virgin (shut up, I hear you laughing.)

Then something popped into my head and I started to worry. Since I tell him darn near everything, I knew I could be honest with him. I told him to please not pop the big question before he moves in.

"WHAT THE F- DID SHE JUST WRITE?"

Before you think Lulu done lost her mind, hear me out. I didn't want a proposal just to prevent my parents from being upset. I want to be asked because of love, not fear. If he asked me before he moved in, all I would think is that it's only because of my parents and my reaction to a question like that would probably not be the ideal.

So that's that.

The Man is moving in. Heaven help us, between my bathroom phobia, his muddy work boots and my hatred for the snooze button, we are in for quite an adventure. But I'm looking forward to it.

You best believe that I'm keeping my three (two clothing and one shoe) closets, though.

My trip summed up in one entry

I promised I would write more about my vacation when I had pictures. Come to find out, there isn't much more! Oh well. I've borrowed some from the internet to aid in illustration.
Why was this my best vacation to the Philippines? Well, there are a few factors. First, I've learned what to expect. For instance, after three visits, I knew that there might be some bucket showers, "different" toilet facilities and potentially lots of 'skeeters. And there's that teeny tiny fact that a few of my relatives may call me fat. Let's steer away for a minute about how that can really ruin a trip.
I have ranted and raved to my mom about how being called fat is mean, hurtful and just plain rude. She knows and has actually defended me when I've been so floored by an insult that I forgot to reply. No, it wasn't all of my relatives, maybe four or five at most (I have a LOT of relatives so that's barely any.) But it only takes one insult to negate the 10 compliments you received prior. And even though my mom defends me, she has tried to persuade me that it's a cultural difference, and that to my relatives in PI, it isn't an insult, just a comment. Like saying, "You have a booger in your nose." Well, sad to say (or not), I'm Americanized. It. Is. Not. The. Same. It was such a relief to not have to deal with that crap from anyone this time around.

Another plus was that, for the most part, our living accommodations were nice. We had a couple of sketchy places but overall the places we stayed in, especially my cousins, were very comfortable. And guess what? Barely any mosquitos. Thanks be! While I don't recommend this resort for overnight trips, it is a great place to go for a day trip:

Dhio Endheka Resort

I also spoke up to my mom prior to this vacation and let her know that I wanted to do fun stuff. In- and outdoors. Maybe it's because I've held steadfast about not visiting for five years but my mom heard me. That's probably why I got to go swimming with whale sharks, hiking, parasailing, island-hopping, sailboating and stay at a resort island.
You may wonder why I would have to tell my mom this. After all, I said I was pushing 30, right? If you're Filipino, you can skip this paragraph. If you're not, here's the answer: I am at the mercy of my mom and dad when I go to the Philippines. They speak the language, they are the closest to our relatives, they know the country. I wouldn't even know how to book a hotel or plane ticket while in the Philippines. Scratch that. I do but I wouldn't know how to do it without getting ripped off. It would also be a lot harder to know what kind of tourist-y activities were available. And worthwhile. Not to mention, when in the Philippines, you are with your family all the live long day. This place is the epitome of the word, "family." I was with them the entire time. That means sleeping in the same room, sharing a bathroom, and basically going everywhere together. My parents were my roommates for a week and a half. (The only reason it wasn't for all two weeks is because I spend four days with The Man.) Remember when I addressed this very subject? HA! Not a chance. Sure, the hotel rooms are inexpensive. But then I would be the spoiled American cousin! How's that? Well, when I stayed at my cousin's house, she put the three of us in one room. Even though there were seven bedrooms, she put us in one. And it made perfect sense. It was the only other bedroom with air-conditioning. In that sweltering heat, I was more than happy to share with my parents. Maybe it's because I don't live with them anymore but we didn't kill each other! In fact, other than my dad giving me his cold, we all got along just fine. When we stayed at a resort, the three of us stayed in one room again. Why? Because my cousins and their kids, all sixteen of them, shared two rooms with no air-conditioning. How could I dare ask to be in my own room? No, my relatives aren't poor but they couldn't see wasting money on additional rooms when eight to a room was snug but doable?
So, besides doing outdoor stuff, I got to do all the pampering I wanted. It was Spa Heaven for me! Whether it be right or wrong, the American dollar goes very far in the Philippines. In two weeks, I had one hot stone massage, three regular massages, three spa manicures and pedicures, my hair trimmed, and permed my eyelashes. In addition, I paid for my mom's two massages, her facial and a mani/pedi for Mother's Day. All of these treatments, collectively, cost about $200. Seriously. For instance, when I got my lashes permed at a posh salon, it cost $6. And y'all know how much I love pedicures/manicures. I had them 2x a week!
The best part of my trip was that I got to know my cousins, nieces and nephews a lot better. I adore them! Sure, I talk about the few tactless ones but overall I have really wonderful relatives. Family that are selfless - they made sure that someone picked us at the airport (several times), secured our accommodations, helped us with transportation, negotiated our trips for us, and checked in on us almost daily after work. A lot of them bent over backwards helping us plan our trips and making sure we had a good time. My cousins showed me around, made sure that I got to see the shopping areas, parks, hang outs and dance clubs. Since most of my cousins are in their late 30s/early 40s, I know they were only doing the latter because they thought I would enjoy it :)
Five years is a long time to not visit. Many of my nieces and nephews have grown up so fast. I saw my relatives and I realized how important it was for me to stay connected to my dad's family. While many of them are doing well for themselves, almost all of them aren't able to come to the U.S. If I don't make the effort to stay connected, it won't happen. I respect that some people don't want to go to the Philippines. It can be rough and one hellish experience just like any other vacation. But I've been blessed to have a wonderful time. There's talk about a reunion next year. If so, I'll be there. I wouldn't miss it for the world.

Me with my nieces (and one baby nephew held by my cousin.)

I believe in fairies

A married couple in their early 60s were out celebrating their 35th wedding anniversary in a quiet, romantic little restaurant. Suddenly, a tiny yet beautiful fairy appeared on their table and said,

"For being such an exemplary married couple and for being faithful to each other for all this time, I will grant you each a wish."

"Oh, I want to travel around the world with my darling husband" said the wife.

The fairy waved her magic wand and - poof! - two tickets for the Queen Mary II luxury liner appeared in her hands.

Then it was the husband's turn. He thought for a moment and said, "Well, this is all very romantic, but an opportunity like this will never come again. I'm sorry my love, but my wish is to have a wife 30 years younger than me."

The wife and the fairy were deeply disappointed, but a wish is a wish... So the fairy waved her magic wand and - poof! - the husband became 92 years old.

The moral of the story:

Men who are ungrateful bastards should remember that fairies are female.