Ceasefire.

This photo was taken on the eve of Day 1 of our low carb, low salt, low sugar, high protein, high fiber diet programme which was supposed to run for 2 weeks.

April 22, 2010.

This was what we had.

Pinaupong manok, pritong isda, binagoongan leftover, munggo guisado with tuna and

crumbled smoked bacon, steamed white rice.

(Scolded [for lack of a better term] chicken, fried fish, pork in shrimp paste sauce leftover,

sauteed lentils with tuna and topped with crumbled smoked bacon, white rice)

After that night, our diet consisted of "healthy" protein like this one.

Baked catfish fillet.

Also fruits and greens. Fruits would be our breakfast and snack. And we're big on greens!

All kinds of them, from organic iceberg lettuce, to rocket, to choi sum. Raw or steamed.

Once, we felt the need for rice because we were having baked chicken marinated in rendang sauce.

So to have the feel and look of rice without the unwanted carbs, we paired it with mashed cauliflower.

What was planned to run for two weeks showed results that we loved! And so we decided

to keep following the same diet regimen, just tweaked a little bit so that we no longer lost

any more weight since we have achieved our desired weight anyway.

It's been more than a month. But tonight, we decided to go for a break. Just tonight.

We didn't have rice, or anything as sinful as that. We had something... a little bit more sinful.

The photo disgracefully failed to do Vanessa's chocolate mousse justice. But it was divine! We had a big slice each,

and we're not guilty. Tomorrow's another day. And we have some more left for tomorrow.

Thanks, Vanessa!

The (Week)End

Like every movie, book or song, every week deserves a good ending. I realized that today. No, not realized-- I decided that today.

I haven't had a Sunday off since July of last year, until today. To celebrate that, I decided to do something I hadn't done in a long time: to walk around and window shop without being pressured by time constraints. I ended up fulfilling my duties as Chiquitta's personal shopper. And it felt great! I got for her a black corset, a choker, two lip liners (Miro and Jeth, no need to get her those. I already did.), four brushes ("one brush for white eyeshadow, one for black, one for color," according to my makeup teacher, Ricci Chan. Plus a smudging brush, for the pasmado in me.) and a few MAC things. (Vivian of MAC, Lane Crawford, I hope you come across this entry someday. You are a star! Thanks for being my guardian angel!) I also got to shortlist the three gown designs for La Chiq to choose from, for the "Finals Night". (Prodyu, ready ka na ba? Wendell, flash?)

After three hours of walking, examining, trying on, and swiping, I called T and asked whether I should go back home, or meet up with him for dinner. He suggested the latter. I am glad he did. For there couldn't have been a better way to close the week than by sharing with T, the simple, yet sumptuous pleasures that the Three-Sixty organic food court bring.


Here's to the many endings in the future!

6th Deadly Sin: Invidia

Invidia. Envy.

This post is in no way related to Miro's intelligently-written Deadly Sins series. This is about me, and my own sin of envy.

Because I was envious of Aaron's dinner menu for tonight, I made my own version of it.


Pumpkin and string beans, sauteed in coconut milk with shrimp, paired with lechon kawali, pork belly deep fried to golden brown crispiness. Served with piping hot steamed white rice and spicy soy sauce-vinegar dip. Perfect for a lazy, rainy Saturday night.

And because I want to make my friends (those who are away from the Philippines and don't have the time, the energy or the skill to cook, especially) envious too, I am posting this entry.

Can You Blame Me?

I tried. I failed. The worldly desires of my human-self overpowered my willpower and I gave in. I lost the battle. But I'm not regretful. Or ashamed. If I had the chance to do it all again, I'd do it exactly as I did tonight.

I overate. How could I not?


Chicken Tinola with siling pansigang and sayote, paired with tuyo. Served with sinamak with crushed siling labuyo to dip the crispy tuyo in. That's how our dinner table looked tonight.

And, to top it all, how could one not get carried away and forget the rudiments of healthy eating when he is sharing this schemingly sinful homemade dinner with a fellow gourmand?

Dan, being Padre Damaso.

Now tell me, can you blame me? Ask Julius and he too, will testify, tinola & tuyo festivals are difficult to overcome. Inggit ka no?

I Wish For 27-Hour Saturdays

Saturday came and saw us--- me and Dan--- sitting on the couch, discussing about life and everything that it has thrown on us in the past couple of weeks. For almost six hours, we just sat there reminiscing, smiling, laughing at ourselves, hoping. It had been too long since we last did this. Hours passed, and as they did, our eyes became heavier and our bodies grew tired, but we fought sleep. The spirit was very willing, and so we forced the body to cooperate.

At some point, we looked out the window. Saturday has already settled in and another visitor was coming: aurora. Finally, and unwillingly, we relented to the call of slumber.

Lunchtime. I heard a knock at the door and after quickly inspecting my phone to check the time, I opened up. It was my foster son, Jethro. He came by to pay his foster mom and foster aunt a visit before flying to Manila for his birthday. And as if that wasn't sweet enough, he brought us Korean takeout for lunch. After ringing us both at least four times each in the morning and being redirected to voicemail every single time, he figured Dan & I were gonna wake up late with no food on the table. He wanted us to start the day right, and took the initiative to start it right for us. Oh, bless! A little over half an hour later, he received a call from his biological sister. That was his cue to leave. We kissed him goodbye, wished him a happy birthday, and watched him trail off like moms sending their kid off to school.

By mid-afternoon, I was in Central with my Pink Becky and a 7-kg weekend bag. I was gonna meet up with T at Mix on Hollywood Road. That plan instantly changed when I called Enan, who was on his way out but had nowhere to go. He originally had plans for the afternoon but they were cancelled just right before I called him. I urged him to come with me to my ocular instead. "We'll go on a filed trip!," I told him excitedly. An hour and a venti serving of Caramel Macchiato later, our Saturday troop was complete and ready to go: me, T, and Enan (E to some people, actually, to one person).

As we were getting ready to face the task at hand, I received news that the upcoming photoshoot had already been called off, so there was no more need to do an ocular. We were in such a field trip mode and we didn't want to waste that. We decided to explore the Sun Yat-Sen Museum in T's neighborhood.

the wax display that scared me

Enan and Dr. Sun Yat-Sen

then it was my turn

post-its as guestbook

After accomplishing the educational pamphlet that they gave us at the museum, we decided to cap the field trip with a round of happy hour drinks at Volume. But of course, a round of drinks at happy hour means two rounds of drinks. Later on, we settled the bill and found out it was happiER hour. Joseph, the owner of Volume and a good friend of ours, gave us an even bigger discount on top of the 2-4-1 deal. Such an angel!

E & T while waiting for drinks

From V0lume, we--- all three of us--- headed to the grocery store o pick up stuff for dinner. I had brought Cabanatuan longganiza over to T's earlier in the afternoon, but I thought I needed another dish to go with it. Besides the fact that there were only 5 pieces and there were 3 of us, T wasn't really fond of pork. The second dish would be my back-up. Tinola. Chicken simmered and tenderized in garlic and ginger broth, seasoned with fish sauce, pepper and, to give it a western feel, served with broccoli. T liked them, thank God, so did E.

It was almost midnight when we finished eating.

I was pouring chardonnay into my glass when we received a call from Corky. He wanted to go out and see us, and we delightfully said yes.

By midnight, T, E, Corky and I were walking down the hill from Caine to Hollywood, excited of the night ahead, while sadly waving Saturday goodbye.

Sunday was coming, and there was no stopping her. In a few hours, I would have to detach myself from the weekend that just went by so swiftly, and prepare myself for the coming of Monday. I paused for a while and wished to the stars that Saturdays were a little longer than all other other days of the week.

Dizizit Pt. 4- Really, Dizizit.

The plane hadn't stopped taxiing yet and the fasten seatbelt sign was still on when I turned my mobile phones on: that which had my HK sim and that which had my Philippine sim. As soon as they let out their respective sounds, the other passengers around me turned their heads towards me and gave me a persecutive look. Embarassing. I got out of the plane as soon as the doors opened.

I was in line for the immigration when I realized none of my phones worked. I forgot to turn the my HK roaming on, and my Philippine sim was out of credits. I ran to the nearest call card dispensing machine which was, lo and behold, defective. It ate up my two hundred pesos and refused to accept the last hundred. After hitting the machine twice, I gave up and said goodbye to my money. Thank God there was a phone booth nearby; close to it, were two of the passengers that weren't amused when I turned my phones on earlier. With much delight and pride, they gave me a demeaning look. I tried to ignore them, dropped the coins and dialled Bibe. She said she was on the way; but I knew it would take her long.

I parked myself close to the passenger exit, so that Bibe would easily spot me when she arrived. Thirty minutes later, I realized that it had been almost 4 hours since I last had a cigarette. I decided to have one, but didn't know where to go. "Manong, san pwede mag-yosi? (Sir, where may I smoke?)," I asked the first security guard I saw.

"Dyan. (Right there.)," His answer was quick, as though my question was stupid.

I looked around but didn't find an ashtray. Instantly, an incident that happened at the domestic airport during my last Manila visit, back in 2007, flashed in my mind.

Towards my last three puffs, I saw a security person and politley asked, "Manong, san pwede magtapon nito (Sir, where can I throw this)?" referring to my cigarette butt.

"Dyan. (Right there.)" He pointed to the ground.

(Bonne Vacances, November 16, 2007)

I wondered whether I'd see a deja vu. I tried, and I did see a deja vu.

Few more minutes later, Bibe and her endearing boyfriend, Pusoy arrived. As soon as I hopped in the car, we started yakking relentlessly. We didn't stop until we got to the Ayala underpass. Bibe was talking about her mom and I rudely cut her with a big gasp.

"What happened, babe?", she asked.

"Black smoke. I missed this. Pollution at its finest," I smiled.

It had already been a long day for me, and it wasn't even past lunchtime yet. It was my first day. There was a longer day ahead of me, and in order to prepare myself for that, we decided to go for lunch--- my first Manila meal. JT's pecho, chicken tail, garlic rice and San Mig Strong Ice.

There couldn't have been a better welcome.

In her album, Bibe captioned this photo,
"Oscar (that's me, of course) and his old friend."

Bibe, the girl whom Rems wished I would marry,
and her boyfriend Pusoy, the man whom I wish I could marry.

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