Monthly Archive April 2008

Halpz, I’m Stuck in WWW Circa 2003!

Day 2 of Dreamweaver class and this is what we’re doing:

Tables.

Now I have nothing against tables. In fact, I love tables. They’re nice to put things on and though it’s been proven that they’re not needed to properly eat a meal (because under certain circumstances— say, when you find yourself in a remote island with no electricity, no running water, and no cellular reception— your lap, one of your hands or any steady surface would do), they still make things a hell lot easier.

But seriously, who still uses tables in webdesign? And why does this goddamn school feel the need to devote four precious hours to this outdated bullshit? When we could be spending our time learning something relevant, like, I don’t know, Flash pre-loaders? CSS sprites? CSS-based navigations? Global warming? The plight of drunken elephants in India??? ANYTHING but goddamn tables!

I’ve just been PWOT-ed. I half-expected our instructor to tell us to incorporate glitter graphics and animated butterfly gifs into the site we made today.

You know what I need to do? Buy memory for my laptop.

Anawangin Cove, Zambales

I can’t believe that I just spent two days and one night in a place devoid of any necessities (and what more, conveniences) offered by the modern world. And damn, I do declare: Anawangin Cove was LOVELY. Sure, we had our “I wanna go back home, OMG OMG OMG I miss my bed, I miss my boyfriend, I want a massage, I want flushing toilets and a proper shower, I want fried chicken, I want a chocolate milkshake, I want to go back home and blog, I wish I never came here, I miss Twitter” moments, but all in all, we fared pretty well.

No, that’s an understatement. If there’s anything we learned about ourselves this weekend, it’s that surviving in the wilderness on a remote island (with no electricity, no running water, no cellular reception, no cold drinks, and no fresh-off-the-deep-fryer KFC chicken) skills? WE HAZ ‘EM. And I shit you not when I say we had to gather wood for fire (because the dude with the stove was caught up in them mountains). As Anne said, while we were dragging the firewood from the beach back to our tents: How primitive. I shit you not, too, when I say that it took ten people to cook a pot of rice. We blame it on our sheltered middle class upbringing.

Anawangin Cove is, hands down, one of the most beautiful beaches I’ve ever been to. The landscape is amazing and something I’ve never seen before (probably because I don’t travel much and tend to stick to tried-and-tested vacation destinations): mountains, a gorgeous beach, pine trees, a river, a lake, foliage, chickens (srsly, chickens at a beach???), and the clearest moonlit night sky. It all sounds cheesy until you get there, so shut up, asshole.

Unfortunately, everyone had the brilliant idea of going there the same weekend as us. The place was substantially peopled, much to our annoyance (because we’re greedy and we don’t particularly like showering in front of an ogling male crowd or sharing two toilets with a hundred strangers), but it was an all right crowd. I guess. It’s not like we had a choice.

It is also worth saying that although we had with us several bottles of alcohol, none of us got drunk or attempted to get drunk. This camping trip earns the Most Sober Fun I’ve Ever Had My Whole Life award.

I love the Philippines =)

Pictures! Lots of them! Here and here and here and under the cut!

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A LOL-Ex

If there’s one thing I don’t do, it’s recycling men. Sure, whenever I go through a break-up, there’s always that initial phase of bitching and moaning and pining— for a few days or weeks, I turn into a Lindsay Lohan song-quoting pile of woe-is-me self-destructive idiot (and no! I am not ashamed to admit I listen to LiLo!). Because really, no matter how big a dick the now-ex is or was, break-ups always hurt and it’s the kind of hurt that could only be cured by, let’s see, the now-ex waltzing back in to your life after realizing he was being such a stupo for ending things with you.

But really, once the opportunity for reconciliation presents itself, I run. Away. Okay, so maybe it’s more like a few unsure baby steps towards the opposite direction, before breaking into a sprint. But yes, you get the idea.

For those of you who have been following this blog since Day 1 (I’m looking at you, Tracy, teehee) and are still able to recall— what with all the somewhat shoddily documented accounts of my men here (huh)— that dude known as D is back. For the third time.

It’s absolute LOL material, now that I’m done being pissed off at not being taken seriously and at his arrogance. I would never have imagined a 6’3″ man can be as pitiful and desperate as this. His latest message, sent an hour ago, is one of those recycled SMS messages:

“I hate the time before I go to sleep…Because that’s when the thoughts I’ve been trying to avoid…start to linger…”

I haven’t been replying to his messages since Friday night, but I’m tempted to reply to this one with a “LULZ. Eh di mag-shabu ka.”

Has anyone ever had an unwanted ex come back into their life and act as if everything was just peachy?

I’d like to stab him with some promotional pens.