Gimme some of this for my birthday, please? SOMEBODY PLEASE?

Joseph Gordon-Levitt became hot topic in teh Internet (and popcult), from what I understand, because of 500 Days of Summer and now, Inception.

But my days of being his (creepy) fan had started since Brick. Well, OK. Since 10 Things I Hate About You. Back then I was still a teen. He wasn’t as big as Heath Ledger (like, he didn’t get teh ladiez screaming and squirming as much as Heath did). I kept him dearly in my heart. Then I, being a teenager, forgot about him for awhile until I watched Brick last year (please feel free to blasphemize me for not finding out about it sooner).

After that it was full blown obsession AGAIN. Only this time I’m not a mere fifteen years old anymore, I’m twenty fucking six. And married. hahaha.

B and I both adore Brick like crazy. And I don’t know why but his character in Brick really reminds me of B in his youth (not that we knew each other back then, but I’ve seen pics, videos and stories of course). Down to the way he dresses. Like if someday we both become famous for something good (yea HAHAHAHA) and some big fucking Hollywood studio wants to make a movie about us, I’d want JGL to play my husband. HAHAHAHAHA. Hey it’s my birthday!! I’m allowed to daydream as much as I fucking want, alright.

His biggest sex appeal to me isn’t his physique. Though let’s be honest, those eyes.. THOSE EYES. And his smile. I can’t even. No, not all that. Not his nerd-chic style either (though I find it really, really charming). It’s the fact that he’s smart. Nothing’s sexier than a smart man. A smart, uber hot, Jewish man? Now we’re REALLY talking. 😀

If you notice his filmography, almost all of his films are good quality. Praise worthy, critically acclaimed films. JGL has been in the biz for so many years now but you don’t hear him as often as you do male actors of his generation. Say ,Heath Ledger.  I am guessing it’s because he’s really selective in choosing his project/work. Most of his films are indie. And last year after watching Brick, I instantly went to his IMDB page, procured his films through one way or another (Netflix,Blockbuster and some other shady means – hey the indie ones are REALLY hard to come by), and then proceeded to watch most of them. Except 3rd Rock from The Sun, haven’t had that chance yet because I’m still knee deep in Deadwood now.

He’s versatile. Like Gene Hackman. He can do a depressed Iraq vet with PTSD, he can do a softie lovestruck greeting-card writer, he can do an angry, rebellious teen, he can do a teen male prostitute, he can do a villain, and he can do them WELL.

I’m glad he decides to do a big studio movie (and an awesome one too – Inception, I mean).

I’ve got some film reviews coming and I will write about his films before anything. Trust. Ok wait maybe Rome will go first. Not that anyone’s reading this little corner of the internet, but it’s good to exercise my writing skill again. I feel good when I write. And especially when I write about JGL. Haha.

/end creepy fan mode

(photo via Fusedfilm)

Best Birthday Present Ever (NOT).

For my birthday, I got the loveliest present I could ever ask for… NOT.

For the past two days I’ve been having a debilitating back pain (despite my dramatizing tendency, this time I mean debilitating FO’ REAL.) So much so that whenever I laughed, I can feel the pain dancing in my back. It has spread to my neck as well. B insisted that it’s just my lack of stretching and yoga (been hit by some serious lazies bug). Last night he helped me apply Beng*y to my back and helped me stretch.

My father in law insisted that I go see a chiropractor. I think I might do just that. Carrying Baby Bubbles probably has something to do with it, too. Though I haven’t been carrying him a lot ever since he started walking on his own.

Other than that, we’re having BBQ for dinner. B is a wonderful cook at the grill, so we’re having some beef kabobs with onion and paprika and mushrooms and of course his awesome creamy mashed potatoes.(yes I’m definitely the meat and potatoes kind of gal. Living in the midwest suits me well.)

A girlfriend of mine suggested that we visit a winery for a girls’ day out to celebrate my b’day (this gal knows my wine-crazed soul well, bless her heart). I just have to find the perfect time. I still feel strange to leave the house without Baby Bubbles (although gods know on the average day of daylong temper tantrums I wish for nothing else but some peace and quiet without him). But I miss him quickly, it always seems. Every time I left the house for a few hours, either for a girls day out or my personal time or even a date with B, I would end up missing him after two hours. Shit, I sometimes miss him when he takes long naps. hahaha.

The little stinker sure does know a way to my heart. The speedway too, at that. hahaha.

In other news,  B’s best friend N is coming to stay with us temporarily in a few weeks. He is from the East Coast and decided to move out of state here to the Land of Nowhere because of the more affordable living cost. (His recent breakup with his mega batshit ex-girlfriend also a deciding factor). They’ve been BFFs since their heydays back in the military. He’s a cool dude, and already stated that he wouldn’t mind baby sitting for us (dude knows how to win my friendship and approval rather easily, it seems.) B and I have it in mind that N will get along so well with my galpal L (said gal who suggested the winery trip). Hahaha. I don’t know why I always get such a kick out of playing matchmaker.

Also, B just got himself a beer-brewing kit. That’s right, he will start brewing his own beer (and start a brotherhood of beer brewers, it seems). The idea came about because we’ve been spending a considerably large sum of moolah every week for beer. No, B is not an alcoholic, he is a beer connoisseur. (In the sense that he loves trying different beers and actually learn about the flavor, the history the A to Z of beer and brewery). Before my FIL came to live with us, a six-pack would last him a week, sometimes two. My father in law, however, is a hardcore beer lover who can down few bottles a day if we can afford it. (I refuse to call my own FIL an alcoholic. Besides, if he IS one, he is a functioning alcoholic, lol). We’ve been spending about 15 bucks a week for beer. That’s 60 bucks a month. That’s 720 bucks a year.

I’m sort of excited about this new endeavor. I know I will have little to do with it, but it’s still exciting. In our town we have a yearly microbrewery festival and who knows, maybe in a few years when our homebrewed beer tastes good enough to join the league of the big dogs of homebrewing, we can join the fest!

B already said he will teach Baby Bubbles all about beer and beer brewing soon as he’s old enough to understand. ahahaha. I will never tell my Mother this, of course.

Alright. Time for a little nap. My back is nagging me so. Enjoy your Thursday, Internet!

Baby Bubbles’ first birthday party went without a glitch. Well, except for the fact that we decided to move the location from a reserved picnic ground in nearby local park to our house the day before. The weatherman told us it was gonna hit 100 with heat index of 110% and so yeah… NO. (though in the end it didn’t end up that high. Still scorching hot, just not 100 degrees hot.).

Baby Bubbles acquired a lot of lovely presents from family and friends. Lots of plastic, no less, but oh well. As he gets older we’ll try to reduce the amount of his plastic toys. My favorite present has got to be this A to Z Dinosaurs thick-paged book that our lovely friends gifted. I mean, even I’m fascinated by that.

He stayed in a great mood, walking around like nothing else matters. I had been worried that he’d be crabby because he didn’t take a good nap beforehand, but I was proven paranoid once again. 🙂

Mostly I’m just fucking relieved and glad it’s over. Now I can play with him all day again and no more big functions like this until.. well, I dunno. Maybe until he turns 5, or maybe until he turns 18. Haha. We’d rather travel and improve our house instead of throwing a bash.

Have a cool Sunday, Internet. Read a good Sartre book and drink some margarita. Cheers.

somebody told me a year ago, “welcome to motherhood, kiddo.”

Why didn’t anybody tell me that planning your child’s first birthday party is so damn time consuming?

I have to find an affordable bulk of lego minifigures (have been scouring ebay for a while to no avail) for our thank you gifts (pseudo-goodie bag, as I call it, because it’s too simple to be called goodie bags – ARGH MOMMY TALK. What have I become?)

We were a bit hesitant to throw a bash for Baby Bubbles’ first birthday as we’re the non-sentimental, practical kinds (yes, we’re the prefer-gift-card-or-check-for-presents kinds). But he only turns one once, and, as B said, “we deserve a celebration for lasting this parenthood thing this long; without trying to kill each other or jumping off a cliff”.

Yes, our sense of humor is rather juvenile. Or grim. You decide.

And more so than anything, we tend to find just about any reason to get together with family and friends for some good food,good company, and boozy cocktails.

Baby Bubbles will be getting a boatload of presents from us. We went on a spree over the weekend for his birthday presents. We were just gonna give him one present, but over Christmas we didn’t give him any concrete present complete with the colorfully wrapped giftbox, so we’re making up for it, of some sort. His first Christmas last year we set up a fund for him and we’ll add the amount to it every Christmas and birthday. But he doesn’t understand that, he’s only a tot. A tot wants colorful wraps to tear apart and brightly colored plastic things to throw around and pick up again.

So that’s why.

And he will only be a child for so long. And we will not have anymore children (by choice). So it’s ok. I know those silly colorful wraps and plastic toys will make him smile.

And I love looking at the smiles of Baby Bubbles. They make (almost) every bad day salvageable.

explodingdog:

back to the cave

wow. somebody really gets me.

Yes I realize it IS spice girls, and I realize that makes me lame. But I grew up in the 90s, and back then liking these girls was cool, ok? So. Anyway. That’s beside the point. I just have this tendency to ramble. This song speaks on point about my relationship with my mother. When I was a teen (and I had a serious case of teenage rebellion, too) we didn’t get along. Like, almost practically at all. We’d get into a fight every other day, and the only time we got along smoothly was when we went shopping together (that’s something we both enjoy doing). Then my early twenties came. I lived far from her, and yet, somewhat, we would still fight. On the phone. I remember other friends who’d talk to their mothers every week (or even a few times a week), and I never understood why. At best I talked to her twice a month. And one out of these two phonecalls was spent arguing. Then my midtwenty came. I was about to become a mother myself. I’ve heard so many stories about how a lot of parents and children who previously didn’t have good relationships became “reconnected” after a big turn in life. My story is that very same cliche. Cliche though it may be, but I’m really happy and grateful to be able to reconnect myself with my mother. I’ve always known and understood she is a strong person but shame on me, I never realized how great a person she is until much later in life. My mother is one of my heroes in life, and she has been through so much in her life only to come out stronger, wiser, and better than ever. She’s been to hell and back, and she’s the kind of person who inspires you with her quiet strength. She is now my best friend and I talk to her a few times a week (gasp! couldn’t imagine doing that even two years ago). She is an endless sea of parenting resource, advice both practical and emotional, and she has so much wisdom she ought to just write a book about it. My mother went back to work after years of being a SAHM and after a major turn in our family life (my folks separated). She didn’t endlessly sulk and cry and mourn the lost of a man she once loved so dearly, but instead put her best foot front and step forward. She is now doing well in her career, advancing and even starting her own side business. Imagine going back to the workforce in your mid thirties with people giving her the side eye and doubting her capability. My mother has raised us well, and although admittedly, I am the black sheep of the family (and I take full credit for that – not blaming anybody here), she is still so proud of me. And moreover, we are so proud of my sister, who, at her early twenties, has established a great path to a wonderful career in the field of law, where it’s mostly dominated by men. I realize this isn’t Mother’s Day or anything, but I feel like writing about her. An Ode to my mama, of some sort. Love you, Mama, and even if I try my darnest all my life, I can never be half the person you are.

Yes I realize it IS spice girls, and I realize that makes me lame. But I grew up in the 90s, and back then liking these girls was cool, ok?

So. Anyway. That’s beside the point. I just have this tendency to ramble.

This song speaks on point about my relationship with my mother. When I was a teen (and I had a serious case of teenage rebellion, too) we didn’t get along. Like, almost practically at all. We’d get into a fight every other day, and the only time we got along smoothly was when we went shopping together (that’s something we both enjoy doing).

Then my early twenties came. I lived far from her, and yet, somewhat, we would still fight. On the phone. I remember other friends who’d talk to their mothers every week (or even a few times a week), and I never understood why. At best I talked to her twice a month. And one out of these two phonecalls was spent arguing.

Then my midtwenty came. I was about to become a mother myself. I’ve heard so many stories about how a lot of parents and children who previously didn’t have good relationships became “reconnected” after a big turn in life. My story is that very same cliche.

Cliche though it may be, but I’m really happy and grateful to be able to reconnect myself with my mother. I’ve always known and understood she is a strong person but shame on me, I never realized how great a person she is until much later in life. My mother is one of my heroes in life, and she has been through so much in her life only to come out stronger, wiser, and better than ever. She’s been to hell and back, and she’s the kind of person who inspires you with her quiet strength.

She is now my best friend and I talk to her a few times a week (gasp! couldn’t imagine doing that even two years ago). She is an endless sea of parenting resource, advice both practical and emotional, and she has so much wisdom she ought to just write a book about it.

My mother went back to work after years of being a SAHM and after a major turn in our family life (my folks separated). She didn’t endlessly sulk and cry and mourn the lost of a man she once loved so dearly, but instead put her best foot front and step forward. She is now doing well in her career, advancing and even starting her own side business. Imagine going back to the workforce in your mid thirties with people giving her the side eye and doubting her capability.

My mother has raised us well, and although admittedly, I am the black sheep of the family (and I take full credit for that – not blaming anybody here), she is still so proud of me. And moreover, we are so proud of my sister, who, at her early twenties, has established a great path to a wonderful career in the field of law, where it’s mostly dominated by men.

I realize this isn’t Mother’s Day or anything, but I feel like writing about her. An Ode to my mama, of some sort. Love you, Mama, and even if I try my darnest all my life, I can never be half the person you are.

Giada de Laurentiis said that a good Friday night dinner is a start off to a great weekend. I must agree with her, though in my particular case, there was a tiny dent in our otherwise awesome long weekend. But it’s ok, didn’t let that ruin our great family time together.

I’m all about simplicity when it comes to cooking, which explains why I tend to shy away from cooking cuisine from my homeland. I love the flavor and the complexity, but I certainly don’t love the 1 hour of (JUST)prepping work that comes with it. Not especially with a little one, it’s just too much. I’d rather spend my time playing with him, taking walks in the park, or hitting thrift stores. Plus there are always other chores to do.

That’s not to say I don’t cook them at all; because I do occasionally, when the mood (and the craving) kick in. Perhaps, later on as Baby Bubbles (I decide that’s what I’ll call my kid here in the blog) grows older and more self-sustainable, I’ll dedicate more time into cooking the cuisine of my homeland.

Meanwhile, I tend to stick to simpler recipes from cuisine of really, ANY origin. The most frequently cooked food in this house are typically American, French, Japanese, Korean, even some not time-consuming Thai recipes. A few times a month I try to delve into a cuisine I’ve never cooked before (tried a West African peanut stew last month, this month I know I’ll try a Brazilian dish). I especially love recipes with few ingredients, not only because it’s easy but also because of the fact that the flavor of the dish will rely so much on the natural flavor of each ingredients. I love that. Not too heavy on any particular spices, just the natural flavor. It feels more “wholesome” to me, if that makes any sense. (Which is strange if I think about it, because I grew up with spice-heavy food and complex flavors).

Last Friday night, I made this Braised Chicken with Balsamic-Shallot sauce on a bed of creamy mashed potatoes. I got the recipe from a Five Ingredients Gourmet Book I picked up at my favorite thrift store for one dollar only. It’s really, really divine. Polished off with a nice glass of White Zinfandel, an episode of Rome, and some cuddling time in the sofa, and I called that my kind of Friday night.

Skins rocks my world. Hands down, the BEST teen drama on television I’ve seen my entire life. Unlike its american counterparts, this one actually has substance and depth to it. It’s also really dark, much to my surprise (and delight, of course). You wouldn’t be able to tell from its trailer (which, to me, seems like a mixture between Cruel Intentions and American Pie.) It’s quite realistic (except for the overly excessive amount of shagging, lol). Their characters are so, so, easy to relate to (especially if you grew up as a teenage rebel, hahaha). The wardrobe is ahhhhmayyyzinggggg like whoa. The acting is decent, which is to say, don’t expect anything in the league of Academy Awards (who would anyway, it’s a teen tv show, lol), but it’s so much better than other similar series you’ve seen before. Also, this show has won BAFTA awards (the British equivalent of Emmy). Plus, look at this gorgeous bunch.

GIMME.

YEP.

kari-shma:

Things change. People change. Circumstances change. Relationships change.

You either have to accept the change and be happy with it or walk away and never look back.