So, my brother and I always complain about how we have to take goofy ass pictures on family trips. We always have to stand awkwardly, pretending like we love each other. The pictures usually turn out like this:
Can you feel the love?
But for this family trip, bro-seidon and I decided to humor our parents because they sacrificed a lot so that we could take this trip to Tahoe.
We realize that our family trips are just as much, if not more, fun for them just because they miss the good ol' days when we were so young that even just getting in the car was fun. Now our family trips are plagued by my incurable motion sickness, my brother's incessant text messaging, my dad's need to sing Christian music for 5 hours straight, and my mom's claims that she would have rather stayed home and watched Filipino tv. Family vacations Picardo style.
What my brother and I didn't expect was to actually enjoy our parents' company on this trip.
Definite WTF moment here:
My mom probably made an inappropriate joke about...well, anything.
During the day, we split up so the chillun could go snowboarding and Bennifer (my parents are literally named Ben and Jennifer) could gamble my college fund away.
Snowboarding was sick because we basically had the mountain to ourselves. We even had some room to get a little extreme.
Chaos, I tell you.
We reunited around 5 and decided to cook dinner in our room. We stayed at Northstar, paid $255 for a 4 person room AND got two free lift tickets with access to the priority lift line. WHA WHAAAAAAAA.
After a wonderful steak dinner in front of the tv watching Dirty Jobs, we left to go ice skate in the Village. Of course, it closed .015 seconds before we got there so we went to Plan B: DRINK. Again, family vacations Picardo style. We found a nice little Jazz spot that had awesome live music, good dessert, and sold me alcohol. I effectively got wasted because I guess the altitude makes a difference? Whatever. If only it took me one drink to get wasted all the time...
FREAKING adorable.
Overall, good trip. My mom lost $100 and my dad won $150 gambling, so we are in the positive. I still have both of my legs and my brother's snow crave has been relieved for the time being. Good trip.
Ah, Christmas. The time of year that it's okay to irresponsibly spend money on random crap, ignore the bills, and pretend like the water won't shut off tomorrow, mid-shower.
I love Christmas because my family gets uber in-the-spirit and likes to go all out. The best part is when we go up into Half Moon Bay and cut down our own tree. It's meant to be fun and a chance for family bonding, but it always ends up being the most ridiculous experience. This sums up the day pretty well:
Mom: Ange, I like that tree. Me: Which one, Mom? Point to it. Mom: (points with her lips in a general direction) That one. Me: Mom, we're in a forest. More specific. Mom: (starts mumbling and cursing in Tagalog) Why are you such a bitch?
Yes.
But the trip turned out alright. My dad found a HUGE tree and challenged my brother to be a he-man and cut it down.
Are those tears?
He got halfway, but I think the tree was winning at that point so my brother tagged out and my dad took over. He got to the core of the tree and started to blame his inefficiency on lack of electrolytes or something. So while he went and got a powergel and some 5 hour energy shots, I decided to test out just how well P90x was working.
Like a hot knife through butter.
With each pass, I'd saw through a half an inch, almost effortlessly slicing through the densest part of the tree. As I got closer to the other side of the tree, my brother started to panic, dreading that I get to make the final cut, earning the right to shout "timber!" To avoid him shitting his pants, I left the last three cuts to him. "Behind every great man..."
In any case, our Christmas adventure ended in our cute, 11 foot behemoth of a Christmas tree. Like Shaq in a cocktail dress.
My mom and dad always find ways to hide the fact that the recession has brought the smackdown on our budget.
Someone needs to explain the logic of this to me:
We somehow got a Cole Haan purse, Cole Haan boots, and a $75 gift card all for the price of $170.
Ok. My sister bought a beautiful Dooney and Bourke purse for my mom's birthday this year, but just not in the right color. My mom finally made the time to go to Stanford Shopping Center to simply exchange the bag for another color, but left with so much more. When she found that her purse was no longer in season, she decided to just get a store credit and buy something new. This is where the fun begins.
My mom found a gorgeous, black Cole Haan purse that she just HAD TO have [I will insert a picture here soon]. Yeah, it was $500. Her store credit was for about $298, so she was debating whether or not it was worth the difference. In the words of my grandmother, I told my mom "Just buy it now because it might not be there tomorrow." Didn't need to tell her twice.
Ok, so there's this thing with Filipinos that I don't understand, but totally love. For some reason, Filipinos feel like they need to give all other Filipinos discounts or any kind of extra benefit possible. Two years ago, I was at the McDonalds in the train station in Venice and the cashier just happened to be Filipino. Was it a coincidence that I got two extra orders of french fries with my meal? I think not.
Back to the story -- the cashier helping my mom was, you guessed it, Filipino. My dad and I didn't hear the entire conversation, but after one burst of laughter between the two, the cashier had somehow given my mom 10% off the bag AND knocked off an additional $100. So, if you tally it all up, with my mom's $300 store credit, $100 discount and the 10% off, my mom paid $70 + tax for a $500 purse.
WOW --> MOM
IT GETS BETTER. Ever since my mom won $5,000 on a slot machine in Vegas, she has enjoyed testing her luck. My mom wanted to buy my Christmas present today and wanted to see if she could hustle another sales clerk. I wanted a pair of boots and found a super cuties pair that I fell in love with [too lazy, insert picture later]. They were originally $175, but with my mother's magic, we purchased them for a mere $100. My mom basically distracted this really, really stressed out clerk and got him to take off 15% and then an additional 25% five minutes later. Insane.
Oh, but wait, IT GETS EVEN BETTER. The stressed out cashier manages to find a second to tell us that if we present our receipts at a certain counter, today, for every $100 we spent, we get a $15 gift card. On our receipts, some of the discounts didn't appear or something crazy because it said that altogether, we spent $500. I'll have to go over the numbers again. That means, yes, we got a $75 gift card. Of course we gave it to my dad to enjoy so he wouldn't feel left out. What's funny is that out of the three of us, he took the longest time to shop. What gender scripts?
Basically, I feel like we stole from Bloomingdale's but it was in such a fantastic manner that I don't even feel bad. All I can say is that my boots are AbFab, Bloomingdale's is stupid, and my mother is Robin Hood.
Hello, Blog. I feel like we've been apart for too long. I've been too busy (lazy) to visit for the past month, but that only means I have much to talk about. Let's start from the beginning of November.
So, to all of you insomniacs out there, I know you've seen the ad for P90x. It's the infomercial that almost guarantees that you'll go from this
to this
in 90 days. Well, my uncle, who is an avid supporter of the original P90 workouts, bought the workout dvds and let me borrow it. Now, while I still can't visibly count my ab muscles, I did lose over 12 lbs in three weeks. That's like...a large baby. I feel much stronger, I can see definition in my leg muscles again, and I don't feel like someone just punctured my lung with a harpoon after climbing the 5 sets of stairs in my house. The workouts are hard but it's so rewarding when you finish. I actually feel like the people on screen are my daily workout buddies. At one point, I even caught myself trying to high five the TV. Bittersweet moment.
Anyways, I'm now in my fourth week and going strong. I'll film myself doing one of the workouts sometime. I ride an emotional rollercoaster throughout the hour long workout; I'll get angry at myself, then at the TV, then I'll get really pumped up but then I get tired. It's like a soap opera but less crying and more sweat. Well, maybe the same amount of crying.
I went to UC Davis on the 20th to go see my friend perform at a benefit concert (www.youtube.com/annacriselda) and got to meet some B/C list celebrities. I met Andy Baldwin from the bachelor:
Yeah, it's no big deal. I was like "Oh, it's really nice to meet you." And for some reason, he gave me a rose and proposed to me. Like I said, no big deal.
I also met Gabe Bondoc, a very talented musician who is actually from my hometown.
Check him out. He's great. I also saw some other bands, including this one called Songbird. They did a pretty sweet cover of "Thug's Mansion" (you can hear my brother singing in the background):
Moving on. I'm in my second to last week of school and I AM SO RELAXED. Since my only friends live in my television, I've had plenty of time to get all of my work done a couple days before their respective deadlines. I turned in my English research paper three days early today and I don't think I've heard so many people say how much they hate me in one sitting. It's a loving kind of hate.
I got my UC apps in (cue heavenly trumpets) so they are out of my life until May. It's funny because my main motivation for getting my work done early was so I could get HAMMERED during Thanksgiving break. Mission accomplished. I used my brain cells so I could spend the weekend destroying them. I hope they regenerate because if not, I think all of mine are floating in a toilet at Santa Clara University somewhere...
Thanksgiving was marvelous. I drank the night before so I was late to my grandma's house for lunch. After picking up butter at the grocery store, I walked through my grandma's front door and everyone was staring at me. "Sorry, I'm late. I brought the butte---who's that white chick?" I see my sister's friend Margarita and at that point, due to a lack of brain cells, I couldn't connect the dots. I finally look to my left and it was my sister! She surprised the family and showed up for Thanksgiving when we all thought she'd be gone until May. Lunch proceeded to be fantastic and fattening, just how I like it.
Now, when my sister visits she likes to play tourist. She tries to convince people that she's just showing her out-of-town friends a good time, but no.
She took my brother, Margarita and I to the Explora--orium (South Park reference) and all I can say is...find a tennis racket, put your hands on either side of the nylon, move your hands slowly and prepare to be blown away.
After that, we went to Pier 39 and looked at 4 sea lions. They sit on the docks and look like big piles of poop.
My sister left early Saturday morning because she had to do the whole wife thing and not leave her husband by himself for an entire holiday weekend during their first year of marriage. That makes sense, I guess.
On Sunday, I went to the 49er game and had SICK seats courtesy of my cousin, Jeff.
Yeah, that's the inflatable helmet the players run through at the beginning of the game. If I could enter every room through an inflatable helmet, I would be pumped 24/7. I'd run into the dentist's office all 300-Spartan-style like "AHHHH!! LET'S DO THIS ROOT CANAL!" Then proceed to headbutt the closest person. Too intense? I don't think so.
Well, that's a recap of all the big, exciting stuff that's happened. I can already smell Christmas break. I plan on doing a lot of nothing. That makes for a very boring blog but a very happy Angie.
If you've read this far, you are probably procrastinating and really should get back to making your power point presentations, Ate Bev. For those of you who do not work at the BBC (callin' you out too, Lou), thank you for reading!
Some Californians making the Prius even more fuel efficient with some sort of wind-powered turbine. Fuel efficient, yes but too bad it was going 40 mph.
I sat down in the stall and came across this lovely poem. In case you cant read it:
"Don't feel down/even though you're fat and have an enlarged clit!/You say that like it's a bad thing. Yay for fat enlarged clits!/Amen to that sister!"
Psh, Shakespeare, Shmakespeare.
And my personal favorite. My mom is helping my cats replenish their electrolytes. They've been training for a marathon so she thought that they needed some Gatorade. Yes, that's Gatorade. In the hungry bowl.
I'll admit it now, I am desperately avoiding my UC personal statement. I'm so used to writitng research papers that I forgot how to write like a normal human being. I could explain the religious implications in Beowulf in 15 pages easy, but I can't even explain what makes me "interesting". I've never had so much trouble finding my own voice; usually people can't get me to shut up. I'm interesting...right, guys? Well, of course you think I'm interesting. You're reading my blog, silly. Either that or you are procrastinating too and my blog is the perfect time-killer. That's fair.
Well, my sister suggested I look through my previous blog posts to try and find my voice. I also decided to take a look at some English assignments from the past. I stumbled upon something I wrote for my Fine Arts class. I wrote it the day that I switched my major from Cognitive Science (wtf) to English. I had 738475980347 emotions that day and really couldn't sort through my decision. This was either the best decision I've ever made or a sign that I'd better get in the welfare line now to beat the crowds. Either way, that morning I went to my teacher and said, "Hey, I don't have my homework with me today. I'm kind of having a bad day." He simply said, "Well, just write about how you feel." I think the original assignment was about the media or something but instead my teacher, let me vent. Here's what I pooped out:
***November 2008 “Write about how you feel.”
At this time during my senior year of high school, I had my life figured out. I was going to get into a “good” college, make millions of dollars and, above all, I was going to be somebody. Three months and nine college rejection letters later, I was beyond panic, shock, or fear. I was inanimate. My life had come to a standstill because there was a flaw in my plan, totally knocking my naïve, adolescent hope. I wasn’t living the life I had expected. But little did I know, getting rejected from all of my colleges would be one of the best things to ever happen to me. It is because my inadequacies, shortcomings, etcetera, that I was able to discover my most remarkable characteristics. It was a fortunate stroke of serendipity.
As a freshman in high school, I had a homework assignment asking to write a letter to my future, 18-year-old self, describing what I should be by that point in time. We sealed the envelopes and they were returned four years later in the final days of our senior year. As I read it, I was overcome by a million emotions, none of which were satisfaction. My ridiculous, 14 year old self expected me to be a straight-A student on my way to Harvard University. I was supposed to be 5’10” and on a full scholarship for track. Basically I was supposed to be a giant, muscular genius. As I stare in the mirror, all I can say is “not quite.” I cried as I read that letter because it just pointed out every failure I’ve had in thus far. I had a 3.2 GPA and the end of my track career was a result of a bad long jump landing and two fractured vertebrae in my lower back. And I was still 5’6”. In short, I felt like a failure because I didn’t have any awards or numbers to exemplify my success. All I could think that day was that it was too late for me to be happy, too late to be successful.
It’s interesting what two years time can do to one’s life. I can confidently say that Foothill has been very kind to me in ways that I have never dreamed. I’ve reinforced my passion for writing and teaching, learned that sometimes school is just a game that anyone can win, and have seen so much of the world even if my college is just two miles from my high school. I studied abroad last spring in Florence, Italy and there are no words to describe the experience. Between the 4-hour train rides and thousands of dollars spent on alcohol, most of the highlights are better described by pictures than my memory alone. All I can really say is that on that trip, I smiled for the first time, truly, sincerely, inside and out. And since then, I’ve realized that happiness and success is undefined. My high school senior quote turned out to be “If at first you don’t succeed, redefine success.” I just found it in a fortune cookie and it sounded pretty deep, but the last two years created new meaning. I’ve come to realize the real secret behind happiness is relativity. When one realizes that happiness has no standards of absolute and universal application, one may finally be free of the common pressures in life. There are no “good” colleges or “right” jobs. There are no right or wrong ways to live life, only the mistake of being counterproductive to your own personal goals.
Ultimately, in my opinion, people expend all their effort thinking about how much time they’re losing instead of all they could be accomplishing. In most cases, people tend to do all possible to extend life rather than capitalize on the time one is given. People say life is short even though it is the longest thing we ever do. Life has become so much more about length rather than quality. We should live life not to extend it but to make each moment special, for the end is imminent. People do all possible to escape death when, in reality, it is death that which makes life so romantic. It is because of death that we take note of the fresh air around us. It is death that forces us to taste our food and hug our loved ones. Above all, death is why we live life. But it is our fear of death that makes us live too carefully in a protective bubble of dull, boring safety. Just like death, fear of failure holds us back from growing to our full potential. And just as the concept of death is what makes roses smell so sweet, the agony is failure is what makes every success worth the risk. I’ve seen life changing opportunities pass me by because I was too afraid to lose or fail or look stupid. In the end, my only failure was in never trying. You miss 100% of the shots you don’t take.
All of my high school friends went on to four-year universities including, NYU, Harvard, UC Davis, and Notre Dame. They come home during their winter and spring breaks and ask me how things are at home. I say “good” but it is the most sincere “good” I can offer. My life, on paper, doesn’t look as “successful” as theirs but I am almost positive it feels 100 times better. I have been given time to see the world I am diving into. In taking a step back, I’m given a head start. I have had more life experience while living in my own house than most of my friends living on their own. By exploring the world I have been able to better assess my role and purpose in it. Most of all, I’ve discovered myself. I am a 5’6”, community college student with an infinite amount of possibilities ahead of me. My success is unique, almost unexplainable. For the future, I have learned to hope instead of expect the best. So until the future gets here, I’ll just taste my food, smell the roses, and most of all, smile. ***
I thought it was interesting. I'm still looking for my voice though. Let me know if I accidentally left it at your house. I'll come pick it up later.
All summer, I've been testing out new hobbies. I do pretty regular things like bike and swim and all that jazz, but I wanted to find something really out there. I wanted to find something I could really get into. Somehow, I found skeet shooting. Don't ask me how I found it. It found me, really.
Now, I've never been the biggest gun supporter, but honestly, I don't know how I ever lived before holding a shotgun. It may sound a little redneck-y to you, but I'm guessing you've never shot a shotgun before. The feeling, unexplainable. That's all for another post. For now, I'll leave ya'll with a little snippet of the experience. I shot sporting clays with my friends this weekend. I always like going with people who have never tried it. I love seeing them absolutely terrified at the beginning but by the end of the day refuse to give up the gun.
Here's Becca. I think this is the second clay she hit. It was a tough one, too.
Have you ever been by yourself and see something absolutely hilarious/disgusting/sexy/upsetting and were desperate to share that experience with somebody? Well, that sums up my life.
On numerous occasions, I have tried to call someone and explain something ridiculous that just happened and it always ends in "I guess you had to be there." Well, mankind, I feel that it is selfish of me to keep all of these amazing occurrences to myself; thus, my blog was born.
For as long as I can keep it up, I will post videos or pictures of things that happen in my life. This may sound boring now, but you'd be surprised at how interesting it could be. You will get to see the world through another person's eyes. This blog isn't about me, but is by me. The posts can be anything at all. I may post a quick clip or, if you're lucky, I could create a short film for you to enjoy. I may talk to the camera "Real World Confessional" style, sing you a song, or even bring in a guest. I may write an explanation or just leave it up for your own interpretation. Who knows? I could just post video of my cats sleeping. You never know what you'll find on TwitSpaceFaceTube.
Oh yeah, about the name. Recently, I have been enslaved by social networking sites. Red notification flags have become a measure of my self worth and "hanging out" has turned into looking at pictures of people having fun with other people. So, I decided to force myself out of the house and to look at the REAL world. I know that by blogging I'm still coming right back to the computer, but I thought it'd be an interesting way to connect to people. Social networking sites are all about instant connection wherever, whenever. This blog will kind of be an indirect connection. You get to see what I'm seeing and how I see it; in essence, you get to take a step into my head. Let's see how that stacks up next to an "About Me" text box. So, whether I'm taking some sick pictures at a concert or just out buying toilet paper, I still think it's 10 times better than sitting in front of my computer waiting for someone to like my facebook status.
If more people get interested, I'll try to be more interesting and post more stuff, more often. So, I hope I have caught your attention enough for you to stay tuned (if you have read this far, I think it's safe to say that you're as bored as I am).
In closing, I hope you at least find some kind of amusement in my adventure. There will be happy, sad, hilarious, disgusting, unusual, precious, and WTF moments. "People only see what they are prepared to see." --Emerson
