~Honoring Our War Dead 24 Hour Period

Before you have some beer, some BBQ, some good times with friends and family on this beautiful bonus day, please take a moment to remember; 

Some gave all.

Safe and Happy Memorial Day kiddies.

~Book Club: I Laughed, I Almost Cried, I Almost Died

I can't believe I'm typing these words... 

I attended book club.   I guess I should say,  I finally attended the book club MGB invited me to months ago.  At first I delayed checking it out because it didn't seem like a BBG kinda thing... 

A)  I don't like to read. (I can.  I don't like to.) 

II)  The concept of sitting around with a buncha girls is generally, kinda not my thing either. 

Don't get me wrong, I'm not one of those girls who doesn't like other girls.  Honestly, I like the company of guys.  I'm a guys girl.  Mostly because a dude is never gonna make me have a conversation about Project Housewives Dancing Idol Bridezilla Survivor Model or whatthefuckever the latest show all the girls are a buzz about that I already hate just from the commercial, or why I think her boyfriend/husband said X, or try to impress upon me the merits of the latest diet, or hair dye, or any of the other 26,000 things chicks gab about that I want no fuckin' part of. 

With that said, I like girls fine.  And it's important to note that generally I am nice to all girls.  How nice?  I've had random stranger girls actually tell me they like me because I'm not one of those 'girl hater girls'.  Schweet.  I'm not a complete bitch. 

It takes a certain kind of girl to make me actively want to hang.  And the book club girls?  Well, those are my kinda girls.  So while I was still suspect of the literary aspect, I was totally down with the hangin' out with cool ass people part and last week that night happened.  The group was comprised of several girls who I've known for years from way back in my radio daze.  Girls who know me well enough to have been savvy enough to have sold the concept to me with phrases like, "you don't even have to read the book."   I, in turn, sold AnonD, who also joined in for the festivities. 

The git togetha was held at (code name) Marietta's delightful homestead.  Where I immediately made her very nice and accommodating hubby, well, my weather bitch.  "I need you to be in charge of monitoring the weather.  If it looks like we're gonna die, I'm going to need a heads up so I can go home put my car in the garage and get in the hole (aka: the basement)", was my less than Emily Post endorsed version of, 'hello, thanks for having me in your home.'   Not only was he johnny on the spot with those duties, I'm also considering code naming him Grillmaster K for his contribution to our yummy din-din. 

I got to see their little (and super cute) one playing in her "ring of fire" (aka: her baby gated circle area).  It made me want my own ring of fire.  And then I remembered I was a grown up and I had one, it's called here.  Instead of being gated, I have walls.  (That and realizing I could go to sleep/get up any damn time I chose, have cookies any time of day and can also have booze and drive--not in that order, or together, of course, I stopped being jealous of a 20 month old.)

(BBG and Marietta and Grillmaster K's wee one and tot I intend on stealing, Harper)

In addition to experiencing my first book club, I also officially tried the phenomena known as Skinny margarita.  It wasn't bad.  Although, once I understood what it was, not just that Bethany girls brand but that it is essentially diet booze, I may have been a bit mentally tainted.  Swayed if you will.  Diet/light/made "healthier" any and everything, in my mind equates pretty much to bad.  (Plus, usually, diet/light/made "healthier" stuff makes me wonder what chemical hocus pocus had to be worked in order for whatever was taken out to ostensibly not be missed.  And when can more chemicals ever be good for ya?  This will come as no surprise but the BBG is a full fat, full sugar kinda girl.)

In addition to Marietta and AnonD, the club that night consisted of MGB, her pal (and new person to me, code name: The Lunch Lady) and (code name) Steven Tyler Kissed Her Ass.  (Any guesses how I have bestowed upon her that code name?)

While book club ran from six until after 11pm, the book discussion portion of the evening consisted of approximately 180 seconds.  The remainder of the time was devoted to catching up, story telling and massive amounts of laughter.  There were some worldclass funny stories going around. 

I really had a grand time.  It's easy to say that I laughed more in those several hours than I have it seems in months, which was awesome.  (No, wait.  Fuckin' awesome!)  One of the best things about my friends is their ability to be such good mixers.  I can drop almost any one of my friends with any other friend(s) and pretty much know that they'll like one another.  It's such a luxury.  I absofuckinlootly love it.  Never having to wonder if somebody's gonna say sumthin' stoopid, or if somebody's going to feel awkward or out of place.  Nope.  They'll be making plans to hang out without me in 15 minutes. 

Of course fun and frivolity didn't keep near death experiences at bay.  Why would I be able to enjoy a near death experience free evening?  A storm moved in while we were book clubing, which necessitated a move from the patio to the garage, to accommodate the smokers (aka: everyone but 2).  It worked out well, that is, until the storm brought us the present of lightning to the party.  I became too afraid to stay seated in my metal-y folding chair.  (...I could already see the 10,000 Ways To Die actor portrayal retelling of lightning flying into the garage and gazillion ass jolt welding me to the chair.  #768 Fllllllaaaasshhhchance...)  I was mocked for my dedication to safety preparedness and stayin' alive instincts as I paced the floor.  But I knew as I stood there, safely out of my electric chair metal canvas covered lighting rod that when I was the one on the news recounting how I lived unscathed through the lightning bitch slap by Mother Nature, I'd have the last laugh.  (That's right.  I'm livin' for spite!)

Being a such a storm chicken and having survived the open garage door/lightning experience, I was starting to feel like I had already dodged death that evening and things should be pretty smooth and clear for the rest of the night.  

Wrong.

Just as I was coming down from my adrenaline (and too close lightning strike) fueled flight or fight frenzy and had reclaimed my place in the seating circle, something caught my eye. 

It was a free range Mickey scurrying across the floor, unfuckingcomfortably close to my flip flopped foot.  For the second time that night I found myself squealing in complete and utter fear for my life.  Even though I was assured that he was more afraid of me than I was of him, I was entirely sure he was plotting a way to skitter over to me and touch me with his bubonic plague carrying tail or something.  

So, if you're keeping track that's BBG 0 - Mother Nature 2.

On the other hand, three sixty five x 67 years, carry the 2, well, I never was very good at math so let's just say it = I'm still alive so maybe I'm beating Mother Nature?  I donno.

I do know that I'm probably hittin' book club again.  I could always use more good times hangin' with good peeps in my life.  Who knows?  Maybe I'll even read sumthin'?  (But please don't hold your breath)

I Be Stylin!

I'm not really, unless you can say having a preggo belly is whats "In" right now.  In that case, I'm rockin it!

But I am at least cool enough to receive this:

Well, at least she thinks I'm cool enough.  "She" being Angela over at Begging The Answer!

She is absolutely awesome and entertaining, check her out...Not like that Perverts!

There are rules to receiving this, but I'm lazy and NO!  Don't Wanna!  But I'm keeping anyway and try to keep me from it!  Go ahead, lets see what you got!

RH Bill: It All Boils Down to Trust

Debating online about the RH Bill made me realize that there is something quite bothersome on how we look at the people around us and the society we live in. It seems to me that people don’t trust one another these days. Personal relationships with friends or lovers aside, our trust simply dwindles when it comes to our country’s people, youth, leaders and everyone else who are a part of a great nation.

Trust in the Filipino Youth

Having encountered this a million of times, most anti-RH debaters tackle on how Sex Education in the classrooms will make the youth be more inclined to have pre-marital sex, as if they will not be able to restrain themselves from humping in a cheap motel just because they have been educated about various sexually transmitted infections including HIV / AIDS.

I think this belief completely undermines the intelligence, values and character ingrained in our youth, our nation’s future.  To believe they would start having crazy public orgies to their parent’s horror because they have been taught the dire consequences of these kind of behaviour is an absolute insult to every Filipino adolescent.

Saying that Sex Education will promote promiscuity is like saying people will be more reckless driving when educated about proper road rules. Personally, I’d rather have the driver of the Jeepney I’m riding schooled from a respectable institute rather than just their peers who happen to know how to drive.

Do we really hold our sons, daughters, nephews, nieces and students in such low regard to believe that they would forget every moral fiber their parents, school and church have instilled in them?

Trust in the Government

Corruption. The big bad word every political debate revolves around at. Let us not pass the RH Bill because it is prone to corruption. All those contraceptive drugs, maternal care paraphernalia and funding for women’s health must already look like piles of cash to crooked government officials. Think of cartoons with Peso signs for eyes. They could smell instant wealth a mile away like hungry sharks near a bloody shipwreck.

I admit, our country is known to have corruption rampant in our political system, and it is an accusation not without basis. However, do we really abhor and distrust the officers we, ourselves, have put into place that much to not give a chance to a much needed government reform that could save thousands of women’s lives and improve the quality of living of our fellow citizens?

Everything is prone to corruption. Every road paved, every school built, every municipal renovated, every fund given to any project is prone to exploitation from those in charge. If I were to follow the “Let’s not support the RH Bill because it is prone to corruption” principle, then why don’t we boycott the government altogether, not pay taxes and live in another country? Our leaders are dishonest, money laundering politicians anyway, why support them in anything that they do?

Every election season, we go out of our homes, endure the lines and the heat and vote for whomever we think is best for the job. We choose the person who we trust to lead our country to a better future. Where is that trust now?  Where did this commanding negativity come from that we cannot hope for the best even if it is in exchange of the lives of women around the country?

 Trust of the Roman Catholic Church in its Followers

Pills kill. Contraceptives are unborn-baby-killing weaponry of mass destruction and using artificial means of contraception is a SIN to our Lord, Jesus Christ. He will frown upon the Filipino people as his mother, the Virgin Mary silently weeps beside him while being comforted by angels armed with Kleenex. The Almighty Father is not happy either. Didn’t He tell us to “Go forth and multiply”? The billions of people in the country are not enough! We must continue to reproduce relentlessly despite health risks of pregnancy to some mothers and unplanned babies born out of wedlock. Abstinence and NOT contraceptives is the answer to all these immoralities!

This is the teachings of the Roman Catholic Church. Catholics, with the backing of the RH Bill, will fall into the chains of devious Satan and descend into the sinful void of earthly desires. The only way around this is abstinence. Should the Church’s followers believe and apply these philosophies? By all means, YES, if they want to be faithful to their religion and do what it says. A true Catholic will uphold the doctrines of her church even if the choice to do otherwise is staring at her in the face.

For debate purposes, let us imagine a future where the Reproductive Health bill is a law.

A Catholic mother is at the health center asking the barangay health worker about the various methods of family planning. The BHW discusses to her all the options available, including both the Natural Family Planning method and artificial means of contraception.

The question is this: Is the church confident that she will choose the alternative that is considered as morally acceptable and corresponds to her faith’s creed?  Because it seems to me that the CBCP is not assured, the way they’ve been acting, that their devotees will opt for the choice they have set upon as right and sinless. Because if they truly believe in the faith of their herd, all these debates about morality and sanctity of life (based solely on the Catholic dictionary) are not at all necessary because our country is composed of different religious views and principles, not just the almighty Catholic Church.

In situations like these then, who should be answerable? The (1) government that is trying to meet the needs of its people, (2) followers of a church not in tune with its teachings and philosophies or (3) the church itself for not ingraining a concrete sense of Catholicism to its flock?

Furthermore, does that make it right for the CBCP to force their beliefs unto everyone including those who are not bound by the Catholic dogma?

Trust in the Decision Making Capabilities of the Poor and Marginalized

Contraceptive mentality, increase in extramarital affairs and an absolute dissolution of Filipino family values. These are some of what sceptics fear when choices about reproductive health and, most importantly, access to said choices becomes within reach to our less fortunate countrymen.

Do we really look at the poor this way? Hand them rubber that will prevent unplanned pregnancies and diseases and all of a sudden, they will make love to the neighbour instead? Give them the chance to have fewer children so that they could take more care of the ones they already have or space their children properly and out of the blue, no one will want to have babies anymore therefore setting up a future where our country is overrun by wrinkled people and devoid of the young?

Yes, most of the poor are unlearned but they do have a mind of their own. They can make their own decisions especially if presented first with necessary information needed to make such choices. They are not sheep waiting for a shepherd. They are human beings, analytical and reasonable and thus capable of making decisions for themselves, for their family and for their own bodies.

Let us not underestimate them. Let us not underrate the intellect, character and ideals of our fellow countrymen. Let us trust in one another's capabilities, and most of all let us trust in ourselves.

~Tornados

I'm feeling like a bad person this week.   All of this hub and bub about Joplin.  (On the off chance some alien life form finding this, or some teenager doing some research in the year 3062 about the olden days, this is what I'm talkin' 'bout:)  

As a rule I like being knowledgeable  'bout the goings on in the world.  I'm not necessarily a news junky, but I definitely keep up on my surroundings and world ta-doins.

However, I'm having a hard time watching the Joplin coverage.  I've found myself on several occasions having to turn the channel, or perform some ninja like techniques to avoid it online.  I guess it makes me feel like a bad person because maybe it seems like I don't care about what's happening to the people directly impacted.  The real deal is that watching the coverage freaks me the fuck out.  It makes my heart race.

I am so chicken shit about storms.  I was (apparently) scarred for life when as a child (5ish?) my Mom and I took shelter in the basement from a tornado which ultimately touched down in a city a too damn close 20 miles away.  I can remember being petrified as Mom made every attempt known to man to soothe and comfort me.  Being a terrible child, of course I was havin' nooooo part of that.  I can remember sitting on the giraffe my Papa made me, just knowin' I was gonna die.  Period.

(My Papa made little girl furniture, including my giraffe -far right)

That tornado practically took out the entire downtown area and claimed 32 lives. 
(http://www.ohiohistory.org/etcetera/exhibits/swio/pages/content/1974_tornado.htm)

Our elderly next door neighbor, Walter had been away from home as the tornado barreled our way and I can still remember what his old (newish at the time) white Oldsmobile looked like after it had been beat up by flying debris. 

Still today I work under the SOP that a tornado (or lighting) anywhere remotely close to my proximity, is in fact, trying to kill me.  Not maybe or possibly.  It is trying to end my life.

Needless to say, that leads to some stressful moments in state prone to tornadic activity.  This time of year I keep water (for me et Uncle John) and some sort of snack, candles/flashlight, etc., readily available in my basement (home office/tv room), in case we got stuck down there.  When the tornado sirens screech I head to the basement with my cell and charger, so that it has as much juice as possible, Uncle John food to get through a day, Uncle John, a leash, my ID (yes, for easy body identification) and shoes better than the flops I'm inevitably wearin' if'n I have to climb out dodging nails and other pointy and sharp debris. 

Yep.  I'm that girl.

And that girl doesn't need to know any other details about how fuckin' frightening tornados are.  That girl does not need to be extra amped up the next time bad weather is breakin' out.  So Joplin people, my heart and prayers go out to you.  But I've got to turn you off.  I'm sorry.  (And I'm sorry if that does indeed make me a bad person.) 

We've had near nightly tornado warnings around here and they're expected to continue until Saturday.  

Daily Dose of Cookoo

Are you getting your daily dose of cookoo? You should be. Its what keeps you from going insane. My crazy likes to come out and play when I get bored. My family and friends have to suffer through it because often times I entertain myself with wonderfully childish pranks.

However, there have been times, when bored, that I have found myself doing some odd, sometimes dim-witted, possibly wrong, but always highly entertaining things.

I've practiced being a stunt double for a fight scene. you don't need a partner for this. Its not like you need someone there to pretend to be kicking your ass...though it gets complicated to explain to someone just walking in.

I've tried to move things with my mind. Oh come on, everybody has tried it at least once. Hey and I'm sure some succeed.

I've danced like Mick Jagger. Always best to do in private, unless you want someone to think you're talented enough to have seizures standing up.

I've attempted flying. Need to work on the landing...

I add sound effects, to life in general.

I've tried eating with my toes, brushing my hair with my toes, writing this post with my toes....

I've played hide and seek with the cats. The bastards kick ass at hide and seek.

If I see it on TV and they say "Don't try this at home" I probably will.

Plans for boredom in the near future:

-Going to Walmart (because apparently all the fun things should be done at Walmart. Why? IDK) and playing hide and seek with strangers.

-Going to Home Depot and having them explain how to put siding on my house while pretending to be a British chick who's hard of hearing. Because I like how "What'd you say?" sounds in a loud British accent.

-Banning the word Spork and forcing the usage of Foon.

How do you keep yourself entertained?

Glee 2x22: New York (Finale Review)

New York. Concrete jungle where dreams are made of. The Glee kids have battled various adversities such as slushy facials, homophobe jocks and playing for the Football team in Michael Jackson’s Thriller make-up but the moment everybody has been dreaming of has finally come. Nationals.

Unfortunately, all the hype surrounding the much awaited episode has proved to be too much for the writers of the hit TV show. The season 2 finale was a let-down to what we had hoped they would deliver. The first few musical numbers were childish and cheesy, reminiscent of those 90’s Pinoy movies where people would go out of town and burst into ahyper sing-and-dance routine. For a moment there, I thought I was watching Dolphy and his Home Along the Riles clan.

Second, how realistic was it that the New Directions fly to the city of Broadway dreams without a polished routine in their pockets? And not only that, the songs they were supposed to perform were not even written yet. I know it is a TV series and not real life, but a little more logic and a dash of reason would have been helpful.

Sunshine Corazon was back. Superb performance overall but honestly, somebody should fire her stylist. Seriously. I couldn’t concentrate half the time I was watching her belt out those high notesbecause I was genuinely disturbed on how the foundation on her face was darker than the colour of her body. Also, the dress didn’t fit properly and looked like a cheap rental for a Santa Cruzan parade. Did they make her look bad on purpose? Was it too much to ask to have a few strands of hair framing her face?

Plus, Vocal Adrenaline was clearly losing their touch. Comparing their performance with Jesse St. James killing Bohemian Rhapsody back in Season One Regionals with their current Nationals routine, it’s a mystery how they managed to get to the Top 10 in the first place.

New York obviously changes people. Rachel and Kurt have stepped into the Big Apple for less than 24 hours yet they act like Upper East Side’s Blair and Serena already.

Admittedly, the one redeeming part of the episode was the duo singing Wicked’sbreathtaking finale song “For Good” on top of the musical’s Broadway stage itself. It was such a heartfelt rendition baring the utmost passion and talent of the two most ambitious and talented characters on the show, I thought it was quite moving. I saw an interview asking creator Ryan Murphy of what would happen if the show choir members graduate from high school and I think it set the background for a Glee future after McKinley High.

I think the Achilles’ Heel of the series is its lack of compelling romantic pairs. So many shows have flourished just because of the chemistry between its lead characters. Who could forget Joey and Dawson, or Buffy and Angel or even Maulder and Scully? The whole Rachel and Finn love arc failed to elicit some sort of emotion from me. I couldn’t care less if they ended up together or went on separate paths. The on-stage kiss was not the climactic moment the show hoped it would be.

Bad writing, mediocre original songs and loopy predictable plot. This is basically what the Glee finale brought its salivating fans. I hope that in the future, the creators would concentrate more on story and character development rather than the Celebrity Guest of the Month. With just two seasons under its belt, Glee is still a neophyte show and for it to achieve longevity in the industry, it would take more than the Popular Song Cover of the Week to survive.

Out Of The Loop

The Mountain Man is cheating on me with one of my best friends!!!  Meet Bambam, my rival.

~Two Girls Helping 1 Guy At A Time

...Wait.  That title sounds like a threesome. 

WARNING:  THIS POST HAS ZERO TO DO WITH MENAGE ET TROIS.

Alright. 

Now that we have that cleared up...

Sooooooo, I'm starting to dip my tootsies into the dating pool.  Afuckingain.  I feel like it would be all to easy to not.  But I know that's not in the best interest of BBG happiness.  I tell ya though, the older I get, the more stuff that happens, the more I kinda understand how full-time bitter people come to be.   When I was younger, I used to wonder how some grownups were so unhappy or angry with, seemingly everything.  Now that I'm o-l-d I understand, I know it takes effort, determination and strength to get back up when life hands you a beat down.   It's infinitely easier to stay down on the mat, mired in bitterness and sad-sackdom, than to stagger back up to your feet and take another swing, ya know?  Here's the thing about the mat, sure it's safer there, but the belt can't be won from down there.  Choices.  We all have 'em.  And I'm choosing to stand up and take another shot at the title.

I'm "out there again".  It is what it is. 

And what it is, is odd. 

(Disclaimer:  Generally, I dig odd.  I think odd is wicked awesome.)

In addition to randomly bumping into guys, setups, etc.  Or as Somp phrases it in her cool kid Cali way , "meeting organically",  I am checking out the online guy options.  I was chattin' with Somp, who is also perusing the online guy meeting options, the other day when the convo turned to guys and the (in our estimation) crazy ass stuff we noticed or have experienced, particularly online.  (Hence, the 2 girls part.  See.  I told ya' no kinky sex.)

Maybe because we both have a background in advertising/marketing, we might notice things slightly differently than the average girlie.  We realize the vital importance of 'positioning', and how it can be a deal maker, or breaker.  But at the end of the day, while we might be a tad more critical attuned to things (like marketing yourself), we are still just people.  People who just like everybody else forms a judgement, and bases decisions on cursory info available to us.   

I know, I know, ya shouldn't judge a book by it's cover and all the rest of that happy horseshit...  But when all you have to go on is the book cover, what else can we make our assessment on?

As a aid to all guys we've selected a few of the most common don't's, in our opinion.  As advertising taught us many, many years ago, you don't get a second chance to make a first impression.  (Thank you Head and Shoulders ad team!) 

Might as well start with the first first impression. 

Photos-

This really seems to be a pitfall for the penis people. Before you post a picture. We beg of you, THINK.

Take a moment to think about to someone who knows squat about you, what that picture tells them you are. (Of course, we don't want you to post some pic that is what you looked like one day in your life, if that's not the authentic you. Be who you are. But be cognizant that the little thumbnail pic we see is literally all we know about you, make sure you're making your best case for why we would want to find out any more.)

'Cause here's what we think when we see this stuff:

...to show me how to flip a picture...

(mentally finishing your headline)

Do you reeeeeally want to introduce yourself to us by saying ya don't know how to use that lil' rotate button? That's too advanced for ya? Or you're just sooooo not detail oriented that you couldn't bother with the 1.3 seconds it would have taken to have flipped that around? It makes us think dumb or lazy. Neither of which tend to be on many skirts wish lists, ya know? If you're making me throw out my neck to even see if ya might be appealing, now, how thoughtful will you be of us in 3 weeks when best foot forward behavior is weaning?

Don't plant that seed in our minds. Make us seeing you easy. Don't use a fuzzy photo that we can't reeeeeally see ya. Make sure at least one of your pics is a clear face pic. ...And don't make us break our necks to do it.

...What? Maybe with the sunglasses nobody'll recognize you?

Somebody like, let's say YOUR WIFE?!?...

This also makes me think something else, oh, what was it? Mmmmm? Oh, yeah, ASSSSSSHOLE I guess there are girls who don't care about helping you commit adultery. Good on ya for being upfront in your infidelity, I guess. (P.S. You're parents must be proud.)

...Get to know you?

What?  So I can judge whether we could hang or not?...

What kinda crazy ass statement is that? You may not be doing yourself any service if your headline brings to our mind words like incongruent, ironic (in the not good way) and kinda kooky. Or if our mind starts to wander and considers if Mr. T did have a lovechild? (Although, that's just a personal impression. I'm confident that many girls totally go for the starter kit vibe.)

...And kinda creepy...

(mentally Paul Harvey-ing the rest of the headline)

Really, unless you're looking for former illusion assistants, this might not be the very best "hello" choice of pics. Let you're freak flag fly and all, but know that this cuts out a huge number of girls to consider you as date potential. This is akin to postin' a pic with your Star Trek/Wars costume attending a "con" of some sort. Sure, we know you guys like that stuff and junk, and that's cool, whateves, but it's not exactly the way to reel people with boobs in, ya know? A showman like this should know how to play to his audience better.

...Bitter much?...

(Because I am who I yam, I also think LAW BREAKER!

You're not supposed to wear buds whilst driving.

It's dangerous, dumbass.)

That's riiiiiight, nuthin' brings the girlies in like offending them!  The headline, and other variations of the whine-y same theme, "are there any good honest women left?", "nice guys finish last", which no matter what words are selected or what order they're lined up, all just scream; negative(!), childish(!), bitter(!), hot mess(!), again, none of which are in any girl's pro collum. Listen, we all have our negative, bitter moments. ...Maybe that's just not the moment to write your profile/email/headline. Honestly, this headline also makes girls wonder what kinda craptastic vibe he must be throwing out there to seemingly, illicit such negative responses from the girls he has "complimented"? (raises eyebrow)

..When I was seventeeeeeeeen, it was a verrrrrry good year...

If you are actually closer to being a senior citizen than being a teen, ya probably shouldn't use your senior picture.  First of all ya know who has a good senior picture?  That's right, nodamnbody.  Which should be enough of a reason to chose another fuckin' picture.  But if it's not, consider why we'd even give a shit about what you looked like 20+ years ago?  Exactly how's that helpin' us now?  Do you posses time travel technology that would allow us to go hurl back in time so that we could be on the arm of your 18 year old self?  If the answer is no, please use current photos. 

...Who's also a skilled barber for me and my tragic pal...

What can we possibly add to this cautionary photo tale?  Uh, other than don't, and nexxxxt!!

Remember the camera adds 10lbs.  And a mobile home.  BTW, something girls in a tornado zone rarely find appealing.  Again, we're girls.  We notice everything you're telling us, whether verbally or visually.  Consider not only what you look like in your selected photo, but what assumptions we'll make from background details.

That's it for today's class.  Next time we'll delve into some other prevalent pitfalls.  For now study up, there will be a quiz. 

Class dismissed.

Its A Girl!

Sorry I haven't posted in a while.  Had semester finals and then a Doctor's appointment in which we found out that its a girl!  Clara Marie.  Yeah?  Oh yeah, I like that name.  

Anyhow, I promise to be back soon with my typical antics.  See you all soon!

Blood Stains, the Smell of Disinfectant and the RH Bill

Blood stains. I saw them everyday for months during a certain period in my life. Blood on the floor, on hospitals gowns and on previously pristine white sheets. The room could almost be a set of a horror movie if not for the dozens of crying babies and nursing mothers..

For weeks it was always the same routine. Everyday, I would march the hallway armed with my medical artillery. Thermometer, stethoscope, a sphygmomanometer and a piece of paper. The whole bond paper will be filled with vital sign statistics after my round was done. Temperature, blood pressure, heart rate and respiratory rate. One column for the mother, one column for the baby. Multiplied by a hundred.

I would always brace myself upon entering the ward because I know an hour of repetitive vital signs taking will pass before I get to leave and inhale fresh air again. Imagine this: 12 single sized hospital beds, 4 mothers per bed plus baby. Sometimes we get a 2-3 pairs of mother and child per hospital bed on a good day, but 6 pairs on a toxic shift. And yes, you did the math correctly. That's a dozen people sharing one mattress. They would sleep while sitting down. Sometimes, the brazen ones would sleep on the bare floor.

I have to give credit to the hospital for doing the best they can. A few times per day, someone would wipe the floor with a heavily scented disinfectant, gather soiled hospital gowns and change the blood stained bed sheets. But with mothers and babies pouring in like giving birth is the newest craze of the nation and there is a million pesos to be won if a baby came out of your womb, there was still a lot to be done.

The odor of lochia mixed with the sharp sterile smell of industrial antiseptic would always haunt me on my way home. It stuck to my uniform and even my hair. While riding a jeepney, thoughts of these mothers cramped all together in clumps while their babies cried in discomfort occupied my mind. Furthermore, snippets of their stories would replay in my head like some eerie documentary montage about the status of women in some God-forsaken country. But this was not some African jungle miles from where I live, this was home.

I remember once overhearing a conversation, while giving medication, between my patient and her mother. A newborn baby girl was sleeping at their side. The grandmother was scolding her child because she would not stand up for herself when her husband got angry at her for giving birth, for the 3rd time, to yet another girl. He told her that he still wanted to try to have a boy, despite his meager income. I tried butting in to say that the father always determine the sex of the baby and it was not and will never be the mother's fault for giving birth to a beautiful baby girl but they looked so heated I didn't dare trespass. 

Social Services were always in our part of the hospital. It turned out, there were too many mothers who cannot pay the hospital fees to be able to go home with their child, hence, they get left behind to stay in the ward until they have the adequate finances to settle the bills, therefore occupying precious space that was supposed to be for newly arrived patients. Many of these families have more than 3 children to raise and take care of. And I wonder, if they cannot settle a less than 5,000 php hospital fee, how much harder would it be to feed, clothe and educate their existing children?

Thirteen. The age of the youngest post-partum mother I've ever cared for. Giving birth at thirteen was not record breaking by any means, but it was still bewildering for me to think how much different her life would be  compared to other girls her age. I witnessed an instance one time where her baby was crying and she didn't even know how to pick up her own child from the bed. Her 'bedmates', veteran mothers with 3 or more children and counting were trying to teach her how to carry her baby but all she looked was lost and defeated.

I always enjoyed watching mothers fill-out the birth certificate forms in the lying-in area. The choice of a child's name must have been an important decision for the couple that most commonly include both parties' ideas. It will be the name the baby would be forever identified with. However, I was shocked by the percentage of women who would look at their husband's / unwed father's faces in a clueless haze asking him what he wanted to name the baby and even to the point of what spelling should the name be spelled in. It was the image of absolute reliance and incapability to decide that struck me the wrong way.

See, I grew up in an environment where women held all the cards and did all the decision making that has to be done. I couldn't understand how these women could just depend everything on their spouses without having an opinion of their own. More than once, the mothers would always pass the birth certificate form to the father despite our request that they fill it up themselves. I could sense their hesitation and awkwardness in handling something important and it pained me to witness how crippled their sense of self worth were. Empowered, these women were definitely not.

She was 16, pregnant on her second trimester and was having respiratory problems. During my night shift, I went into her room almost every hour because she was having a hard time breathing despite already being administered Oxygen via nasal cannula and positioned in high Fowler's (almost sitting). I took her Vital Signs more frequently and in the process, got to know her, and the father of the child who was watching her, a little better. She was a sweet girl, well-mannered, soft spoken, with lovely eyes. I thought that she shouldn't be undergoing this kind of life-threatening condition at her age, that maybe, a little more guidance and information could have made a long way, but I do commend her strength in such adversities.

Shift ended. I endorsed the situation and went on my way. It was the last day of my stay in the ward and I felt pretty accomplished. I learned a lot and got to meet interesting people along the way. I wished the best to all the patients I've met during my stay and said a little prayer for those who may be needing a tad more help than others. I slept soundly that night. The next day, I learned that Lovely Eyes and her baby died in the delivery room due to respiratory complications.

So call me whatever names you want, threaten me with eternity in the fiery depths of hell.

These are the reasons why I support the RH Bill.

Purple Ribbon Campaign for the RH Bill

Fresh from the irritating loss from the Pilipinas Got Talent-ish text poll in ABS-CBN's HARAPAN Reproductive Health Bill debate last May 8, pro-choice advocates show that they are not daunted by a survey which costs 2.50 pesos per text vote.

Celebrities, politicians lead Purple Ribbon campaign for RH Bill 

No less than former President Fidel V. Ramos and world-renowned singer Lea Salonga led on Wednesday the launching of the "Day of the Purple Ribbon for Reproductive Health," a gathering of public figures supporting the controversial measure.

Several politicians, celebrities, members of the academe and popular personalities pledged their support for the passage of the bill, choosing a purple ribbon as a symbol for their advocacy.

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In the same event, Ramos even urged President Benigno Aquino III to prioritize the proposed measure.

"Mr. President, with due respect, for you to do the right thing, you should now certify the RH bill as urgent," he said.

Meanwhile, Salonga said she can be "ambassadress of reproductive health."

"I want people [to be] armed with as much information as possible... to decide for themselves what is best for them as couples. That's what I'm hoping for," she said.

Salonga added that the proposed RH measure is vital for the welfare of women. — LBG/RSJ, GMA News 

Just yesterday, an online Purple Ribbon campaign for the RH Bill was launched by netizens to show their support for the (hopefully) future law that has been waiting in the congress for more than a decade now. The new Purple Ribbon logo made by TeamManila has been made available as Twibbons for citizens who may want to proudly voice out their support for women empowerment, education and better quality of life for the poor.

And yes, like the Reproductive Health Bill itself, you are presented with a CHOICE. How great is that? Please feel free to use them on Twitter, Facebook, Tumblr etc. and spread the word. 

The war is far from over. While Pro-RH debaters are armed with reason, reality and concern for Filipino women, the other side is loaded with century old scriptures, twisted logic and breast cancer. It is not an easy fight but it is a cause that we are willing to uphold despite the name-calling and the threats of eternity drowning in an ocean of flames.

~Uncle John's Cast Iron Stomach

It was a regular, average Wed ness day Wednesday evening.  I was downstairs munchin' on my ol' school mini pizza that earlier I'd popped in my now beloved toaster oven.  I was flip floppin' between watching tv and being on the computer, I could hear Uncle John upstairs playing.  He sounded like he was havin' fun.  Hoppin' here and there overhead.  I paid nooooo attention to him and remember thinkin' 'Awwww...Uncle John, still bein' spry, havin' fun.  Good on him" and goin' about my general BBG bidness.

A bit later, I wandered upstairs for whatthefuckever, and discovered that Uncle John had indeed been having fun.

...Yep. 

Havin' fun destroyin' shit:

(So long oven mitt.  How 'bout them purple nails?)

Ugh. 

For starters that was my 2nd favorite oven mitt.  Of the precisely two that I own.  (TMI:  the other being of the silicone variety.)  Then I considered the heavy duty silver stuff, that I can only imagine is not particularly good for d oh double g consumption.  Double ugh. 

I, of course watched Uncle John like a hawk.  I gave him a press on his belly area to see if he seemed tender, or troubled by it's contents.  Thankfully it seems Uncle John has the constitution of Hercules.  By virtue of some crazy ass strong canine digestion and evacuation system he seems to be feelin' fine. 

For the official record, I'd left the damn oven mitt on the counter.  Evidently, not far enough back that on his lil' schnauzer tippy toes he couldn't reach that mitt.  Something has to be super close to the edge for him to be able to appropriate it, so I could only be sooo angry with him, as I, apparently, share in the blame.  Great.  Now I'm losing to a dog. 

(Note to self:  Don't cook anything big.  You now have no way to hold sumthin' hot with two hands.)

Never.
A.
Dull.
Moment.