Um… yeah… I think I’ll pass on having the smear of Pap anywhere near me.

The venue for said dinner party, a very close friend of my mom’s restaurant, had to close down because the store next to it caught on fire. Apparently, something in the store (it was a hardware store) exploded and burst into flames. Fortunately, the restaurant is unmarred by the fire and there have yet to be reports of anybody injured. The explosion was pretty big and loud though so things fell off the walls, plates and other dinnerware broke, etc.

So we put away our party clothes, put on more sensible ones and headed over to lend moral support. The fire was still at it when we got there and I must say, we were pretty disappointed with the firemen in the area. First of all, they actually asked for money when they arrived on the scene. Then, although I don’t expect a rapid fire response, they seemed to lack a sense of urgency because a lot of them were just standing outside, looking at the charred remains of the building. Some were even smoking. Er… okay. Then, they asked my mom’s friend if she would be willing to feed them. She did give them food and they had the gall to ask for rice but then demanded more entrees afterwards since they already devoured them before the rice ever came.

*sigh* It makes me sad that those firefighters would exhibit such appalling behavior.

Jason Mraz comes on the stage. It’s already night without me noticing and my house’s (that isn’t mine) backyard is filled to capacity with the stage and the audience. Jason starts to sing. Come Lucky, a friend shoves a mic under my nose. I have forgotten a lot of the lyrics but I discover that my voice is absolutely fantastic. Our duet ends with applause.

Jason: So… you come here often?

Me: Yeah. I live here.

He is impressed, natch.

To celebrate the wonderful music we made together, he gives me an autographed hospital bracelet. Flimsy and torn though it does have some unintelligible inscriptions on it. The only thing on my mind is, “I am so going to Plurk about this!”

Then, I wake up.

Indelible proof that, in fact, nobody let the cat out of the bag.

Clicky-clicky! 

That is what has been occupying my time as of late. I am thrilled that it’s over and done with and I’m also proud of the outcome. Not bad for my first photomanipulation piece, if I do say so myself. ^_^

Gah, tomorrow (or rather, later today) is our official orientation day for NSTP (community service program thing that our college has). I already know that we’re going to be dealing with kids (which is insane because me + kids = does not compute) but we’re not entirely sure where we’re doing it. I’d probably be more relaxed about it if our professor/facilitator was different (because she’s anything but a bundle of joy and happiness) and if we were assigned to building houses instead of teaching children. Aah, c’est la vie.

Wish me luck. I’m going to need it.

PS. New layout! It’s my February/Valentine’s Day layout. Haha, I like the stars the best. :3 Oh, and I totes redone Opine: new layout and changed the format of what little posts I have. Hehehe.

Anyway… look! 

The Thriller dance to a Bossa Nova tune? Okay, yeah. Makes sense. Perfect sense. /end sarcasm

I just don’t get the need to take every single song in the whole wide world and make it Bossa Nova-ish. Nothing against Bossa Nova but seriously, the Carpenters? Bob Marley? MICHAEL JACKSON? (Can you imagine Beat It, Billie Jean and yeah okay, Thriller set to an “easy listening” style) Not only is it a disservice to the artists themselves but really, it doesn’t cast a favorable light on the genre either. How did the whole Bossa trend start in the Philippines anyways? And isn’t it high time for it to just stop? :/

Note to Self: Avoid painting on the floor from now on. Hunching/slouching in an uncomfortable position over your work does not a happy back make.

(Oh, I clear it out when I have to use it)

And goodness, get a proper table for your work. You’re here to paint/draw/*insert art related activity here* not to sip coffee around your ridonkulous table while playing footsie with the guy in front of you (although, that’d be fun too… if I had both, a coffee and a guy, that is). Pilfer the perfectly suitable table next to the 2nd floor TV and couch if you must.

A good day to you too, mademoiselle.

She’s fine, there were no complications or problems during the procedure. She was pretty drugged out when she arrived (and I think, she still is a bit…) and she’s not very happy that she’s confined to her cage and is stuck wearing a cone. She loathes that thing (and rightly so… who would want a satellite dish attached to their neck?) and the last time she had one on, she was pretty dead set on taking it off.

I can only imagine the teasing she must be getting from my other pets. If, they could tease each other, of course (maybe, who knows). Well, the other kitties might be more sympathetic to her plight since they have gone through it, too but the dogs… not so much. Plus, the princess of our household, Santi the Shih Tzu, is a bully. She’s small and cute and absolutely huggable but underneath the heart-melting exterior is a *ahem* bitch.

It’s funny though, that when it came to our cats, the minute they turned 6 months, it was straight to the vet to have them fixed. No ifs and buts. However, with our dogs, the issue of having them neutered didn’t even come into play. Haha, species double-standards? Nah.

Anyway, almost everyone from Numb3rs was present in my dream and they were stumped over a series of murders in the LA area. They couldn’t quite figure out who was responsible for the crimes and how exactly the perpetrator was able to infiltrate the victims’ houses. By the way, no, I was not the killer. I was more an invisible audience, an overseer, if you will. Well, it just so happened that the perpetrators (*gasp* more than one!) managed to kill their victims by hiding in their coat closets under the stairs (specific, I know) and waiting to catch their prey unaware. And the bad guys? Two good guys in the show: David and Colby. How’s that for a plot twist eh? Haha. My dream had them hiding in the closet and when a little girl passes by, Colby pops out and talks to her while David’s voice can be heard from inside the armoire.

How’s that for symbolic and/or metaphorical whathaveyou eh? Haha, joke. I have no idea what that dream meant. XD

In other news, our youngest and newest kitten, little Jet is having a widdle *snip snip* operation on Tuesday. An operation of the… spaying kind. ^^;; It’s a rites of passage for the cats in our household, really.

My first class, History of Arts and Design 2 was a dud. Pooh. I came into the room and lo and behold, our professor is none other than the one I had for History of Arts and Design 1 (and she wasn’t even supposed to be my professor this term… there was another person listed as my teacher under this class, in my schedule, meh) and that is not a good thing. I got great marks for that class only because she never really taught us anything. Seriously. I cannot for the life of me, remember anything substantial from that class. Sure, we watched a lot of movies and had to critique the production design/props/costume of said films but she never gave us a proper foundation to base our analysis on so most of the stuff I would write was total BS.

Plus, it’s unfortunate but we can’t really take her seriously ^^;; She makes these weird (and un-funny) jokes that, at times, even toe the line between good-natured ribbing and being insulting. And she has this thing of wanting to be our friend, which is fine if you’re a great teacher too but when you’re not… it gets tedious.

On the upside, I may not like the professor I’m stuck with but I must say, there is quite a number of cuties in class. Teehee. :3