Man vs. Food

I am crashed on the couch and watching Man vs Food. Thisnis a bad idea because I am now craving for FOOD.

What are you craving for now?



Since I’ve been watching Kdramas recently, I thought I’d focus on one show/character: Shopaholic Louis.

This show tells the story of a ridiculously spoiled young man who does nothing but shop all day. His parents died when he was young, so his superstitious grandmother sent him to live in France because she was told by a fortune teller that her extraordinarily strong fate (prolly bad translation but I think they meant energy or karma) was killing everybody she loved. She figured if her precious grandson lived away from her, he’d be spared.

He becomes a multilingual (speaks 10 languages but can’t spell properly) shopping expert who claims that items literally talk to him to be bought. He lives in a castle and is waited on hand and foot 24/7 by his personal bitler and a slewnof maids and other servants.

Things change, though, when grandmother gets sick and she calls for his grandson to formally announce the transfer of their company to him. He comes home to Korea and gets into an accident that wipes his memory clean.

Enter Ko Bok Sil, a rough-around-the-edges type of rural girl who can hunt and cook on a woodfire oven. She moves to Seoul to look for her brother who ran away from home but comes across heir-turned-beggar Louis instead. Together, they face thieves, thugs, conmen, detectives, businessmen, freeloaders, and a whole motley of colorful characters who try to bring them down or help them with their goals.

Thisnisnone of the few shows that I actually finished until the end. While Louis himself was adorable, he was also extremely annoyingly and frustratingly spoiled. He acts like a kid, throwing tantrums when he doesn’t get his way. Bok Sil, on the other hand, seems like she is the secret spawn of Mother Teresa. That or she sprung from Mother Teresa’s rib. She was ridiculously kind and optimistic that it’s hard to believe any person like that exists.

Still, because the two were such polar opposites, it was interesting to see ho they complemented each other and how they drove each other mad. The ending was a no-brainer–they end up together, duh–but how they get to that point in their relationship keeps viewers hooked. And that plot twist of an ending was so contrived but perfectly prepped and executed that it brought a tear to my eye.

Iron Fist

I’ve been on Netflix for all of four days and I’ve been marathoning  different shows. Unfortunately, Netflix PH is useless and I’m limited to the Marvel shows, the Gilmore Girls, and a small selection of movies I’ve either watched or have absolutely no interest in.

In any case, the only reason I signed up for Netflix is for those aforementioned shows. I’ve watched Daredevil 1, Jessica Jones, and I’m supposed to watch Luke Cage, but his character sort of bored me in Jessica Jones so I skipped the series. I must admit, though, that I’m intrigued by his history.

Iron Fist caught my attention because the main character looks like Danny Masterson from That 70s Show, so I always expect him to crack a joke. So far, though, I like this more than the other Marvel shows.

Also, Claire Temple and Jeri Hogarth are the two best characters in the Netflix Marvel universe, imo.


Danny is annoying jeez.


How to be happy?

They say happiness is a choice. And because I am tired of feeling miserable, even though this feeling won’t go away, I will choose to be happy.

First step?

Finishing this marathon of Iron Fist haha 🙂

NaBloPoMo: Whouffaldi Finale

Tumblr has been very informative about the season finale.

The posts from the #doctorwho tag have given me a pretty good idea of what happened, and I am one with the Whoniverse in saying,


But unlike Santa, I do not ship Whouffaldi. I ship Oswink.

Of men and babies

Warning: There is a high possibility that my friends or people around my age (30y.o.) will get annoyed by this post. 

I consider it a sign of maturity (ha!), this proliferation of baby pictures and videos on social media. Never have I seen so many pictures of babies, both nieces/nephews and godchildren, on my Facebook and Instagram feeds. It is insanely adorable and annoying at the same time.

On one hand, the photos of the little cherubs are more than enough to bring a smile to this otherwise stressed face, for the giggles and and toothless smiles and the Michelin Man-like limbs are just full of Cute. On the other hand, the baby pictures are a glaring in-your-face reminder of my… oldness. And of other things I’d rather not announce on a public blog.

Sometimes I think I’ve gotten over this “old” issue. I look at my friends’ haggard faces because they haven’t gotten any sleep and think, “HA! I still look like a college kid on my best days. On my worst days, I just look like I’m in my mid-20s.” And I can STILL sleep without interruption because I’m not breastfeeding. And I can watch movies in the theater without having to worry about whether it’s appropriate for my kid or not.

But I cannot for the life of me explain why whenever a friend or batchmate posts his/her baby or wedding picture or something similar I get antsy. I’ve got a few theories about this.

Number 1. The baby pics, wedding pictures, pre-nup pictures annoy the hell out of me because I am reminded of how I don’t have those things. No, I am not in a relationship. No, I’m not going to have babies anytime soon. Stop dropping hints, Ma.

No. I don’t feel. Any pressure. Right now.

Number 2. People subconsciously look down at you (it’s just the briefest of glances, but it’s there) when the fact that you’re single  (STILL) at 30 sinks in. People judge. I would know. I’m a judger. Sometimes of the worst kind. (Don’t worry; I’m working on getting rid of it.)

Number 3. People tease you relentlessly about your age. Right now, I would like to apologize to Cec for cracking and laughing at all the age jokes thrown at her before. Now, I can relate.

I confess to being guilty of being brainwashed by the media and society and tradition that having and taking care of a family is the end-all and be-all of women. Inasmuch as I’d like to claim modern thinking and beliefs, that women CAN be happy and fulfilled without a family, I really am still an old soul. Family is still important.

Why my brain and heart are warring over this desire (or lack thereof) of a beau and, consequently, a husband and my own family I probably shall never understand.

I blame Doctor Who for this melancholic midnight thoughts.

“I am alone.”

“My face has all these lines, but I didn’t do the frowning.”

A Thousand Lives

The worst piece of news today wasn’t about China threatening to take our land away again but the news that a father had to bury his son who died from fraternity initiation rites (better known here as hazing).

I remember thinking that I can’t–nor do I want to–imagine the pain that father must have felt to discover his child had died because of a senseless act. All of a sudden I was thinking of this father’s rage and hurt and how he might act if he saw these people responsible for his son’s death, and all I could think of was that he wouldn’t wish death on these people but a thousand lives over so that they could suffer through all of them.

The scene became real in my mind:

He looked up. In front of him were the three boys–so young! how could they kill my boy?–the three boys who took my child away.

He stood up, staggered towards them. They shrunk. “Shrink into the earth, you maggots,” he thought, his rage the only thing holding him up.

Softly, he addressed them. “I do not wish you death…”

Their shoulders relaxed ever so slightly.

“I wish you a thousand lives and more so that you can live through them and suffer through all of them.”

No burden was lifted. No weight taken off his shoulders. His heart was heavier, his chest tighter, as though the curse he put on them was placed on him as well. And all he could think of was that this was how it was going to be now.


Watching the news is depressing. 😦

I wish all parties involved find forgiveness and peace, maybe not now, but eventually.