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In case you are new to my blog and you hate my page's navigation scheme or whatever it's called, here are quicklinks to some of my favourite old posts.
Happy Sunday, Chuk Chak Chinese And Other Blahs
I was reading old text messages from poor people asking for pasaload when finally he spoke.
"Ikaw may Cha-neese blood?" He stared at me as if my face was smeared with
Chinese characters which bear the answer to the meaning of life.
"Of course I have Chinese blood. My grandmother was born in Shanghai in the 1930s
and moved to the Philippines after WWII with her Chinese
family. They brought a lot of lumpiang Shanghai and siomai and silk with them."
Of course my grandmother wasn't Chinese, she was half-Korean, half-alcoholic.
But i was so bored i had to lie.
"Pak ikaw not Cha-neese wala swer-te."
"Fine, just gimme the effin dates will you?"
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It's All About The Money
Im so gonna save im gonna make it the 2nd best thing next to madonna. so what am i gonna do with my savings? im gonna buy myself slaves. 36 slaves. kidding.
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I Heart Stuff and Other Blahs Fabulous Indigenous Edition
speaking of hindi naligo, two girls wearing vendor clothes who really are vendors anyway suddenly appeared in front of me together with their bilaos of mangga kanina while waiting for tetet at the grocer. i asked them what the hell is up with them mangga ladies and the teary eyed girl said, in vernacular, "The police." Tipong, "Mga pu-les."
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Short Story: V is for LOVE (Marilou Part 1)
"Oh it's you. I didn't hear you open the door."
"That's because your hearing aid is soaked in that bloody mess." He just stayed there, wouldn't even put down his bag. Wouldn't even take off his tiara.
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Short Story: V is for VEKTAS (Marilou Part 2)
"Gee this looks so-good I'm gonna go pee-pee all over it," she said when she stepped on a shiny pregnancy test kit on her way to Jollibee. She pulled down her jeans and started peeing all over the pregnancy test kit, not minding the crowd of people who started to gather around her.
you can find it below...
Of course I have other lovely posts and you can still check them out in the archives. More posts to come (hopefully) tonight... 
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You guys check out this site: www.bloginterviewer.com and read my interview. As usual, I'm no good in interviews so the answers I gave were all lame and crappy. At least the people from bloginterviewer.com featured my blog and now I feel better cuz I a lot more will get to read my blog now, no need to please for site visitors from friendster for now.
I woke up late today and I almost died (yeah) when I realized I'm late for supposedlunch with super friend Pao, who visited the highlands recently. So I had to come up with excuses but I wasn't too creative that time so I just told him I had visitors. It's true anyway, cousins from the south came for lunch.
Nothing big happened today, same old same old routine but I have a lot of deadlines I need to finish. Maybe I'll post more later. Love ya guys. Haha.
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 I grew up as an only child. Although I did not experience swanky weekends in the Hamptons or summer vacations in the South of France, I could say I had a luxurious only-child-of-the-family childhood. Until RM arrived. When my mom told me about the idea of finally adopting a kid, I asked her which part of Africa we are getting the child from. Or Vietnam. Like Brangelina. Or Madonna. She laughed at me and told me we’re getting this 2 year old kid called RM from, well, La Union. Because I used to stay in Baguio forever and our family home was in the lowlands, I did not get to see RM right away. All I heard were stories from my dad telling me how round her cheeks were and how much food she consumes in a day, as if she came from a starved Mangyan tribe somewhere in Mindoro. Or excited phone calls from mom telling me how many new shoes she bought for her that day, and again how much food she consumed that day. I went home a few weeks after and finally I got to see her. So you’re the little bitch, I said to myself, when I first saw her, drawing ugly lines at our living room wall, with her crayons. She stared at me with two of the biggest eyes a 2 year old kid can come up with, and came up to me. Tangna don’t do that, I said, snatching the crayon from her hand. “Now give your big brother a nice kiss,” I said, and that’s the first thing I ever taught her, how to do the classy beso. Believe it or not guys, she now knows how to do the beso, with matching mwahs (with or without the mwah sound, depending on occasion) and lifting-the-left-foot maneuver. So RM became the 4th member of our big family (haha), we bring her everywhere, we buy her all the nice things kids of today love and I teach her all the posh lessons a growing child should learn. But this child is a tiny monster. One Sunday morning we were left alone at home while everyone went to church. I was cooking crepes and peeling bananas and stuff when RM, came up to me, pointing at her snout. “Damn are you sniffing cocaine now?” Of course she’s only 2, the total number of words that come out of her young mouth were around twenty-two, words that refer to food, or two-syllable utterances that has something to do with bathroom activities. “What is that in your mouth!” I examined her mouth and I saw soap powder, white with tiny bits of blue, as if it was polvoron, all over her mouth and soap dust all over her chest. Alarmed and didn’t know what to do, I grabbed her in my arms and ran out of the house towards my grandma’s. Sitting in her wheelchair, my calm grandmother pointed at RM’s mouth. “Why do you let her eat like that? Punasan natin come here.” She came to us instead. “Sabon. That’s sabon, she ate sabon, what do I do now?” I said. “Sabon? Patikim nga,” My grandma. as if she’s been tasting soap off kids mouths all her life, expertly said, “Ay yeah, sabon nga!” I wanted to celebrate with her latest discovery but quickly I brought RM to their sink and tried to wash her mouth with running water. “You don’t swallow, the food in your tummy will get clean like clothes,” I warned RM as I cleaned her mouth with my hands and got rid of the remaining soap inside her mouth. I asked RM to gargle with water and demonstrated it to her, “You do like this o, KLUG KLUG KLUG*, and then you let it out.” She did what I asked her to do, except the letting-it-out part. RM swallowed everything, practically drinking the soap-solution from her mouth as if it was fresh, hot, breast milk coming off her biological mom’s breast. Nothing bad happened to her, thank God and we never told our mom about it. When my mom and dad arrived and saw the opened detergent box on the kitchen table, I told her I had to wash something with it. “Eh bakit matamlay si RM?” “I don’t know, she ate too much polvoron, that’s why.”
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Kayo talaga gagawan niyo na naman ng chismis tong dalawang 'to.(translation
Other Random Santiagos
(pagbigyan na - i dont know the english por dis eh, what, gimme five?)
I've been writing a lot in Tagalog/Filipino lately and I never realized I have readers from:
Birmingham, UK
Brockton, Mass
Merrylands, New South Wales, Aus
Winnipeg, Manitoba, CAN
Paradise Valley, Arizona
Dallas, Texas
Atlanta, Georgia
Cary, North Carolina
Palm Harbor, Florida
Missoula, Montana
Vrhnika, Beltinci, Slovenia
Gallaway, Tennessee
Green Bay, Wisconsin
Stillwater, Oklahoma
Camberley, Bracknell Forest
London, Lambeth
Berwyn, Pennsylvania
I'm sorry guys, I never thought you'd ever visit my 3rd world crap. Thing is I don't know how you got to find the link to this blog, I never posted my blog address anywhere in the net and the only advertising campaign I do is at friendster, where I flood the bulletins and beg my 600+ friends to visit my blog or when I flood the tagboards of a few people and leave messages like "Nadaan ako, daan ka rin sa blog ko kung busilak ang iyong puso" (translation: I was here, you go to my blog if you have good heart, right?)
Anyway a lot of you complained about the layout, how you have to scroll to the right to view the rest of the blog, or how the elements at the left of the page are not alligned, as if they're Zubiri-Pimentel, competing for the 12th post in the senate. Well I made this post at some online tech forum and begged for love and mercy to help me with the coding. I left the post at around 7:00 AM in the morning I think, and until now nobody cared to respond, and the only pageviews it got were five. Damn, they might even be my own pageviews.
Well when people ask for design help from me, I never hesitate to help them. And at that tech forum, when people have questions like, "How do I use Microsoft Word?" I spend hours and hours of research just to come up with a nice know-it-all, expert post to answer the magic question. The whole idea of this internet-community thing is to "open up ourselves to others" and responding to "Help Me" posts in forums or emails or anywhere in the web is a way of giving back to the community. I blog basically because I want to share my thoughts to other people. I ask for help because yeah I am stupid CSS-wise and I expect that my community, would respond to my post, and if they are too-busy with their high-tech lives, they could at least increase my post's pageviews.
Oh well at least I have readers from MidWest Amareka and yeah, shoutouts to y'all.
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click to view bigger image, better life for all of us
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 The reason why I haven't been posting for like, forever, again, is that I got really busy with work. Sandali, nabother ako saglit sa graphics na ginawa ko sa taas. Look at the shadow, talagang hindi nagbend? Or ganun talaga sa tunay na buhay? Another reason why it took me 4325 days before I came up with new posts is because I've been working on a new template for this blog. Feeling ko kasi dapat parating nagpapalit ng template. Yung iba nga boypren ang parating napapalit, wag niyo na akong husgahan. Pero I still need your opinion. Like do I need a new template? When I opened my blog today using Safari 3 Beta for Windows (my plug pa kayong mga hayop kayo) I thought the layout didn't look that bad after all, I just have to come up with a better banner (sa taas). Sandali Tagalog ako ng Tagalog meron pala akong foreign readers (check out my ClustrMaps). In fact I even have one loyal reader from Russia, hellos to ya, Russian person, Vodka!! I posted my email address above, I want you guys to write an essay saying everything you want to say about this blog and my new favorite soap opera Impostora. Did you know that in a month I only get maybe 5 non-work related emails? And if ever I get emails from personal contacts, these are still emails about work? Amazing, right?
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Kulungan ang utak mo ng malisya. Parati na lamang, sa tuwing magniniig tayo'y iniisip mong hindi ko iwawaglit ni-minsan ang mga alaala nito. Ang amoy mo at ng iyong nakaraan, akala mo'y itatago ko. Nagkakamali ka.
Hindi kita iniisip o pinapantasya man lamang. Sa mga sandaling inaakala mong nilalaro ko ang mga posibilidad gamit ang aking mga daliri't kalamnan, nagkakamali ka. Naglalaway ako't oo, nilalabasan ako ng mga halinghing at hiyaw ngunit ang mga ito'y dahil madiin ang aking pagtanggi sa katotohanang nais mo lamang ako sa tuwing ako'y nilalabasan.
Kailan ka kaya lalabasan at tuluyang aamin sa sariling ang tambisan ng libog at romansa ay hindi lamang natatapos sa kama kundi sa kung paano natin isinusubo ang mga hinaing ng bawat isa't tuluyan tayong mananahimik?
 Marilou dropped the Home Pregnancy Test Kit, shocked with what she just realized. She closed her eyes, then stared at her own reflection on the bathroom mirror.
"The feckin Home Pregnancy Test Kit is feckin expired," she whispered to herself. But she knew that she is pregnant. The bulge in her stomach wouldn't hide it, she's on her 2nd trimester for chrissakes. She's bored.
Her ex-boyfriend Marco came out to her a few months before she discovered she was pregnant and without a doubt, she killed him. When asked by the authorities why she had to murder her boyfriend, she said, breaking into sobs, "He was a fag. And he wore my tiara!" The police officer hugged her tight, "I understand young lady, I did that to my lesbian dog yesterday," and he left the crime scene, no other questions asked, no legal actions against Marilou, nothing happened. The paramedics, who dragged Marco's body all the way to the elevator, fed him to dogs.
Marilou accidentally discovered she was pregnant when she curiously peed on a home pregnancy test kit.
"Gee this looks so-good I'm gonna go pee-pee all over it," she said when she stepped on a shiny pregnancy test kit on her way to Jollibee. She pulled down her jeans and started peeing all over the pregnancy test kit, not minding the crowd of people who started to gather around her.
"Is it positive?" a girl asked her.
"Oh yes oh-so-positive, aiming your pee all over this thing feels good, you gotta try it."
After five seconds of fresh urine streaming off Marilou's, the crowd, a dozen of people heading to work and a group of early-morning street sweepers sipping their early-morning lattes, started clapping.
"What the feck is going on, are you guys enjoying my little vajay-jay show?" Marilou asked.
One of the street sweepers, pointed her ipod-nano at the urine-proof 22-inch LCD screen attached at the test kit, "It says you are pregnant young lady, we need to celebrate!"
I am pregnant, she whispered to herself. As if it was her destiny to slaughter people, she brought out a CZ-100 pistol out of her Fendi handbag and started firing at the crowd. They all died, except for one person.
It was Ylmas Vektas.
(to be continued...)
 I wanted to kill myself when I got a late SMS alert from Google Calendar about Rosa Rosal's life story being shown on TV. I only got to watch the last part of Magpakailanman when Mel Tiangco interviews her guests and I snapped a screenshot (which is part of the artwork above). I missed the best part, I dint even see who played the role of Rosa Rosal and stuff. Sad.
Anyway, for those who do not know Rosa Rosal, like if you grew up somewhere else, dont worry, I don't know much about her too. All I know is that she often appears in movies or on TV dramas as the uber rich donya, Roman Catholic and uber nice, would pat the uniformed helpers in the head, usually sitting on a wheelchair-but-still-classy with all the amber and turquiose the wardrobe department could ever find, etc. I can't even recall which movies she has appeared in but one thing im sooo sure about her is that she likes blood.
Although she is not some sort of a vampire or bat or dinuguan lover, she's known for her blood donation activities (because she's the founder? artistic director? leader? secretary? reyna emperatriz? governor? of the philippine red cross). So the next time you run out of blood and the hospital guys find blood quickly, take a deep breath and think of this really nice lady. She's nice kaya!
Now a lot of people are asking me why I made my blog address rosarosal.blogspot.com. Aside from good recall (i was thinking of thoughtsstraightfrommybeatingheartofgold, pero duh dba!) I can't think of anything else. Haha im such a lousy writer.
A week ago gorgeous superfriend Cheng M. and I went out to this tiny place called Caffeine Addict where some boring band was playing and boring people, the type of people who send forwarded messages in Friendster, crowded the place. Luckily we got our own tiny table without even waiting (thanks to Gasul-carrying buff no-name waiter; you are all free imagine yourselves sleeping in his arms on a stormy Baguio night) , big enough to put all our drinks into but too tiny for our handbags. Behind our table was The Couch. It isn't the world's loveliest couch, it didn't even look expensive. IKEA 1995-ish actually, but I was perishing to move to the couch area because you can’t do mahjong or any other fun activities on our tiny table. I wanted much space because I love laying things on tables, like ashtrays and boxes of cigs and empty plates and maybe maps or floor plans. I imagined us together, Cheng and I, sitting like royalties majestically watching a horse race, on The Couch. While on The Couch, I thought, it'd be ideal to throw darts at people who stare at us, or slap stupid waiters who give us the wrong orders. The Couch is that night’s throne of power. And of all Fun Things. So I eyed the couch as if it was the land of dreams and non-stop sex; I guarded it with my eyes, I planned to kill anyone who will take it from us. After their probly first round of drinks, the boring people who sat on the couch decided to just leave and watch TV at home instead (I saw it in their bored eyes). And then The Couch was ours.
At first I was silent, Cheng was telling me something about the band but I was half-listening. In my mind I was carefully working on plans during our short stay in The Couch. Should I lie down, I thought, or should I sit properly (Cheng brought her feet up on The Couch), should I call friends to come over and enjoy The Couch with us? The band’s first set of songs is almost over when I finally decided to just sit down, like a normal person, on The Couch, because I can’t take-off my shoes and sit ala Cheng. We were having a grand time, Cheng drank a lot and I since I don’t drink much, I drank little, haha. Until the invasion of The Couch. Two girls, who were in Genevieve Gozum-like outfits, holding steaming mugs of coffee close to their chests, sat on our couch. Airplanes and pilots ask permission to land. Boyfriends during 3rd-dates ask permission to ask. I remember asking permission from my mom when I was young if I could use drugs, and although she said NO, the thing is, at least I asked. But these two awful girls, my friends, sat on OUR couch, as if we were in the park and the couch was labeled “For Trashy Coffee-Drinking Girls Too” They could have made smoke signals from their steaming coffees to tell us that they wanted to share The Couch with us. But they did not. Instead they sat there, enjoyed the music while Cheng and I, grew silent for a moment, planning our next move. “I swear to God if these girls are gonna sing along the next song im gonna go grab their boobs off their chests and turn them into bloody play doh” I thought to myself, waiting for Cheng to say something. (The girls were lucky because the next song was some instrumental rendition of Feeling Good or Feel Good or whatever song). Cheng started to whisper her thoughts, some are violent and some are, well, normal (Tangina taktakan ko ng abo yang kape nila eh). Cheng and I decided to reclaim our territory in the classiest way possible, that is, stretching our legs wide open until the next girl had to sit on the arm of the couch instead because we were occupying the whole couch already. We pretended that we needed the space to stretch our arms for warming up purposes. And I decided that my jacket deserved a chance to sit on the couch too, and my other stuff too and Cheng’s too, until the couch become crowded and the trashy girls, like Bush invading Iraq, at last, felt the need to leave us alone, Cheng and I, and OUR couch.
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Today, I ate doughnuts and green tea for breakfast. And I bought a newspaper. Why? Because I work up early, after so many years. The loud speakers at this school near my place are playing graduation tunes mebbe because it's graduation day (?) for those sweaty kids I see every afternoon or mebbe the school mistress just wanted to wake me up and remind me of my failures. The sound was in ancient-mono, the most irritating thing evar after Mike Enriquez. Anyway, while I attempted to go back to sleep (cuz I wasnt destined to wake up til this afternoon), i was hearing all sorts of sounds, from AM radio news readers broadcasting crap; to vehicles from nearby South Drive making er, vehicle sounds, which made me decide to just get up and try to experience Baguio mornings.
So I got out, in my trendy pyjamas and went around and realized that people are happier at this time of the day. The Mr. Donut attendant, with all her fresh doughnuts and freshly brewed coffee and fresh Ever Bilena make-up greeted me with the nicest smile a minimum wage earning person can come up with (in a third world country) and the talipapa people, who didnt do anything to make me realize Its-A-Happy-Day, noticed me (because i was in my pjs and i did not even bother to fix my hair) and well, offered me pres pis prom the market. Wait, talipapa = market dba? And the taho vendor, oh that taho vendor, well, he was smoking Marlboro Reds and yeah, he was selling processed soya beans. He, too, didnt do anything. I got so inspired this morning im going back to sleep now. Wtf.
This is not a fashion blog, of course, I am not Bryanboy.
But the Spring 07 bags from Louis Vuitton totally caught my attention.
 
Why? Because I have this same bag.
And I use it to store my old clothes/stuff. And now high fashion people are selling it for hundreds or thousands of dollars, with an LV logo, of course, and people actually think it's worth it when they can find the same bags at Baguio Market for a cheaper price. They even come in different designs; my personal favourite is the Winnie The Pooh design.
Well whatever. People can spend their hardearned (?) money on anything, become fashionistas while the rest of the world is starving, sure thing. I can kill strangers anytime whenever i feel like doing it too, sure thing. But the point is, I have that same bag. Bow.
Miz Tet interviewed me last Monday on Baguio and Stuff for her mini docu. As usual I looked like a total fool on screen and gave the most stupid answers like, "Yeah, kailangan gugulin ang pera para sa kinabukasan ng kabataan." I was hoping she'd ask me on more interesting things like Partying in the Highlands but she asked me about the pagbabago in baguio ever since i was a little.
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while waiting for Timi and Kuya Allen at Burnham,
I decided to check out the hygienic food stalls around and this is what i feckin found!
I bought a fertilitious strawberry shake and i have never felt sooo fertile in my entire life after i finished my shake.
 something i found while looking for porn
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