This is one of those rare occassions where I talk about what I do for a living

Today is not like any other Thursday because today marks my second year of employment with JKIEC. *Blows cake, pops champagne cork*

Yes, I landed this job of editing/correcting write-ups from our non-native-English- speaking clients on that fateful day of November 11th, two years ago. There are days when I like my job. High pay, good location (my work is near my house, so I get to save on gas!), considerate bosses (on some occassions, yes). And, as a bonus, I get to poke fun at my clients’ English. Hee. (oh c’mon Jess, don’t be so full of yourself! Remember when you were asked to take that grammar refresher test, and you spent a good 10 minutes debating with yourself whether it’s “desert” or “dessert”  that refers to “that sweet course at the end of a meal.” You’re not so good yourself! True, but in my defense, I very well knew the difference between “desert” and “dessert” before I took this job! Which now leads me to my next point). Most of the time, however, I can’t stand what I do. For one, it’s a sedentary job. Never in my life have I experienced severe back pains until I started hunching over the computer for hours, five and a half times a week. It was that painful, I actually had to go see a doctor. And also, my job basically is to find faults and be critical, which eventually turned into a habit and I now apply to my own writing. Yes, I edit myself; I am my own client especially whenever I blog. Can you imagine how silly that is? And you know how they say too much of anything can kill you? What I have at work is too much exposure to wrong English. Another year with this job, I swear, “deserts vs. desserts” is not all I’m getting. So to all my Facebook or Twitter buddies, all my dyslexic and malapropistic statutes and twits are now justified! And I could go on and on forever, but the clock’s striking 6 very soon, and I gotta powder my nose before I leave the office!  I want to look good as I go out there and embrace my freedom!

For someone who’s got issues with her attention span, 2 years is quite a milestone. C’mon, you don’t have to! *gestures for the audience to sit back down*

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Once a gambler, always a gambler

Jess Fact#1:

I gamble. In fact, everyone in the family does. My grandmother was famous in the neighborhood NOT for her recipes or quilting prowess, stop thinking Desperate Housewives or Pleasantville, but for having a house where people come to play mahjong and tong-its. I remember growing up, I and my cousins would spend summer vacations hanging out at her house as onlookers. While other kids were outside chasing each other, we were educating ourselves on how to become professional gamblers. Sounds terribly wrong, but that’s pretty much how I, we, learned how to gamble at an early age. Want to hear a joke? If there is the The Von Trapp family singers, there is also the San Miguel family gamblers! But you probably find that lame, so moving on…

I started going to the casino as soon as I hit the legal age. But then I stopped when I ran into my mother one day at the chips counter.  Awkward. Before that, she had no idea I’ve been going there. She thought the extent of my being a gambler is limited to shelling out a few pesos on card games with my cousins. I wouldn’t want to bump into her like that again – it’s the most embarassing thing ever, to get caught in the act. And Lord knows what could possibly happen if I continue my casino adventures. I might one day just find myself on the same baccarat table as her. Again, awkward.

I lost in the basketball betting today. Hence, that brief history of Jessica’s gambling. What was I even thinking trusting an enemy?

I placed my bet on Miami Heat, which at first seemed like a good idea ‘cos they were leading until late in the 3rd quarter when out of nowhere, Utah Jazz rallied. In the end, Miami Heat fell on their own turf and worse, to a hanging-by-a-thread team! Shame! Classic example of all talk, no walk!

Okay, so I can now call it a night for I’ve already let out my disgust for this bunch of scumbags, jerkoffs, pricks, goobers, and everything else that refers to someone arrogant, irritating, and who thinks the sun, moon, and stars all rise and set on his ass!

Relax. Breathe.

Good night!

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“Wake up call coffee and juice. Remembering you. What happened to you.” {Stereophonics}

How’s your Monday so far? Unproductive? Struggling to get anything done? High five, pal!

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There’s always next year!

What I originally planned for this year’s halloween was to dress up as someone whose style I probably wouldn’t adopt for myself. I wanted to look rugged and sloppy and not give a flying f@#% about it! And who fits the bill better than Amy-the-friggin-awesome-Winehouse?

If you’re looking for someone who has a style all her own, BINGO, Amy Winehouse is your girl!  Unfortunately,  it would take weeks to ship that perfect, gravity-defying beehive wig I found online.  Since I was already pressed for time, I had no choice but to kiss my dream goodbye (at least for this year) and party as a sexy (eh?) candy corn instead.

Yawn! Girly can be a little too boring at times! But I’d still like to believe I look fantastic with that curly wig. Or is “fantastic” a bit too overboard?

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Excuse me while I get sentimental

There are days when I feel like packing up and leaving.

Today is no different.

Life’s a drag lately; I just want to run far away. Right now, I’m thinking: what if I go? What if I leave everything behind and start over in some other place where no one knows me? New people. New culture. New life.

If only it were that simple!


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Day 7 of the 30-day blog challenge: a photo that makes you happy

More like a photo that makes me laugh myself silly.

All four of us can’t tell what could possibly be playing then. Memory gap, happens all the time! But it has got to be an Aerosmith song! I mean, we look like we can swallow you whole, it cannot not be an Aerosmith song!



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Day 6 of the 30-day blog challenge: whatever tickles your fancy

Here I am struggling to squeeze blogging into my busy schedule while Paul, a good friend of mine, is in Europe, relishing every second of his vacation. I got a text message from him this morning saying that he’s finally reached Paris after wandering around Italy for more than a week. I can’t help but feel a pang of jealousy! It’s been over a year since I was there last, and I sure miss Paris (and Italy, of course).

Amazing how Paris can leave you wordless.

Walking along the banks of The River Seine

Ah…..Eiffel! If only I could take you home!

Bird’s-eye view of Paris from the second level of the Eiffel.

Pyramide du Louvre!

Le SacréCoeur is where I intend to get married. Whatever it takes!

But you know honestly? As much as j’adore Paris (Ha, I can speak French! Tee-hee!), I don’t think I can live in a place where I can’t walk around in ordinary, inexpensive clothes without being self-conscious. Paris is overflowing with grandeur and fabulousness,  it would take a lot of effort  (and Euros) to measure up to a true-blue Parisian. I mean, Parisians shop for baguettes in full makeup, elegant tweed coats, and leather boots. I, on the other hand, don’t mind going to the store in my house clothes. I do that sometimes, actually. And while Parisians buy their dogs Chanel collars and hang-feed them at cafes, I don’t even have a pet to speak of! And even if I do, I wouldn’t worry too much about “accessorizing” or indulging it. Dogs are dogs, not fashion models. Looks like I’m too much of a faux pas to make it in Paris. Now that may be the case,  Paris may not have a [permanent] place for “unfab” earthlings like moi, I know I’ll keep visiting. I sure could use a lovely, heart-stopping escape every once in a while.

* * * * * * * *

Current eargasm:

Paris by Yael Naim

{ and again, the music player’s not embedding. What is wrong with SoundCloud lately?}


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