What's on your shampoo bottle?

When I didn't know how to read, my shampoo bottle read, "No more tears."

When I started running around my violet plastic shampoo bottle had, "Gee, your hair smells terrific." plastered all over it.

Then I got a little older and went for "That fresh clean feeling."

I moved on to, "For shiny and more beautiful hair." and "All organic, all natural." (but I was allergic so had to pick something else).

I tried, "For tangle-free hair" for a little while. I dabbled into "Dandruff free hair in 3 days" and "For softer, silkier shine."

Now my shampoo bottle reads, "Shampooing detente cheveux secs et tres rebelles." (Roughly translated into English as "smoothing shampoo for dry and rebellious hair.")

You gotta admit I've come along way.

Those round thingys that hold your cuffs together

"Silk knots. They're called silk knots, Jona."

I've known about silk knots since I started wearing shirts with french cuffs, but I haven't actually known what they were called until last week.

My tailored shirts from Manila always came with two buttons that were joined together by a string. Like a really really poor man's cufflinks. (Here's a thought: would a really really poor person have cufflinks? Ooohhh.....)

When I got to Hong Kong, each time I had my shirts dry cleaned, those buttons would disappear. And after about a week, I'd gone through all my shirts and all my buttons were gone.

I needed to buy those round thingys that hold your cuffs together.

I walked in the office right next to mine, W's, and described in a very articulate fashion what I needed to buy. It did not help that I was wearing a blouse that day.

"I need those round thingys that hold your cuffs together," gesturing to my non-existent cuffs.

Hong Kong being what it is, I had a pack by day's end.

(And if you think this post is inane, wait till you read the next one.)

The Trouble With Pre-Nups

I spent most of the day in the middle of negotiations concerning the "unwinding" provisions of a financial transaction. For you mortals, unwinding provisions are those parts of the contract that relate to how the parties amicably undo a deal after something goes wrong and both parties don't want to go through with it anymore.

Sounds familiar? Well, it's something like a pre-nup. But for a corporate deal worth hundreds of millions of dollars. So like Donald Trump's pre-nups.

There are many delicate issues related to the negotiation of unwinding provisions. First, you have to think of all the bad bad things that can go wrong. Whose fault it will be, and then you figure out how both parties can come out unscathed, or well, at least as close to when before they got into the whole mess. As you can imagine, it is a touchy subject.

"If you fail to fund on closing date, you'll need to pay for all my breakage costs."

"Well, if you fail to deliver on closing date, I can revoke the L/C and draw on the escrow account."

Which is the corporate equivalent of "If you cheat on me, I take the house and the kids."

The trouble with pre-nups (and unwinding provisions) is that you have to look into the future and predict the worst possible scenario. Then you have to discuss the effects of those ruinous circumstances to the deal, este, marriage, and what each party is willing to take. Then you agree on what to do. And the way out may just be be as ruinous as the mess you're in.

It's bad chi all around, but as the time tested baduy saying goes: you need to prepare for the worst. The difficulty is that when the shit does hit the fan, you can't expect yourself to act rationally. But this is precisely what you're assuming when you negotiate pre-nups. You assume that both parties will do the reasonable thing.

Hmmm, as the not so time tested and not baduy saying goes, "Sige, good luck na lang."

I don't see how you can realistically agree on expected behavior during a meltdown. Circumstances like that are impossible to predict, let alone you're reaction to them.

Libreng Tawag

I have theories about almost anything. So it's not surprising that I have a theory about freebies and Pinoys. Filipinos loooove free things. Even "free" things that are not free.

To illustrate:

1. Christmas give-aways from your insurance provider. You know that umbrella you got last Christmas? Or it could have been a calendar or a notepad or day planner. Whatever. Those corporate give-aways. Here's a startling revelation: they're not really free. You get them from people you pay an annual fee to, like an insurance company or service provider.

2. Hotel membership perks. You know that "free night" at the Mandarin you got when you became a member of their VIP club? You paid for that with the PhP10,000 joining fee you paid, you idiot.

3. "Free" internet, "free" calls, etc. I'm writing this from the Shang Edsa where I'm staying for a couple of days. When I checked in, the guy at the front desk said that if I paid for a room upgrage (an extra US$50) I get stuff like "free" internet, "free" local calls and "free" dry cleaning. So OF COURSE, I just had to bite.

4. "Free" samples, "free" tastes. Of course you'll buy the pasta sauce after you taste it. Because really, that small cracker with a smudge of red paste on it was "super yummy"! (People actually talk this way in these bazaars, like people get stupid when they walk in the NBC Tent or some random hotel ballroom.)

5. "Free" love. Hmmm.... I think we all agree that you pay a really high price for this. Ok, so this may not be Pinoy specific. But it's cheesy, and I pretty good ending to this post and truthfully, I've just ran out of other "free" stuff ideas.

Work with me, people. Work with me.

10 Things I Hate About Me

I’m short.

I can’t speak French.

I’ve never been to Spain.

I'm impatient.

I am not charming.

I can’t play a musical instrument with proficiency.

I’m messy.

I get really angry.

I forget things.

I have a poor sense of direction.

Finally

My boss T. uses a red pen to review and mark-up the drafts of letters, contracts, notices, forms, heck, all written material I prepare. And when he's done, my drafts looks like they had a bad day in Bahgdad. They're bloddy all over; with red ink all over the margins, sometimes even spilling to the back side of the page. Everyday, dozens of literary massacres occur within my 20 square meter office.

Everyday until yesterday, that is.

Until yesterday, T. would come into my room with a draft he just butchered, sit down, make himeslf comfortable and begin to tell me in a very calm and methodical manner why my work is crap. Well, he doesn't use the word "crap" he says things like, "I would have done it this way..." "This is what I would do..."

Eh di ikaw na nga lang ang gumawa?!

But of course I don't say that. I just think that and send angry telepathic messages. Good thing T. is American and does not understand Tagalog.

Yesterday he comes in as usual with a draft of a loan agreement I handed him 10 minutes before. A draft that took me 3 hours to prepare and he says, "I added a "the" on page 4."

I look at the white pristine pages of the contract and look back up at him.

"That's it?"

That's it.

Touch down.

Why I Love American Politics

This is an actual news item from CNN.com today.

LOS ANGELES, California (Reuters) -- Porn star Mary Carey said Monday she was dropping out of the California governor's race to be with her ailing mother, who has been hospitalized in Florida since jumping off a four-story building last month.

Carey, who shot to worldwide fame with her quixotic gubernatorial campaign against Arnold Schwarzenegger in 2003, said her mother was in critical condition at a Ft. Lauderdale hospital and facing surgery.

"As much as I want to help the state of California be a better place, I think it is more important to be with my mom and help her," Carey said in a written statement. Carey said her mentally handicapped mother jumped off the building in September.

"I am only 26 and have many more years to be involved in politics, but right now I must be in Florida with my mom," Carey said. "For now I would just like to ask everyone to pray for a healthy recovery."

The star of such adult film titles as "Boobsville Sorority Girls" is running as a write-in candidate in 2006 because she failed to gather enough signatures to be on the November ballot.

Cost of Living in Hong Kong

Go to Google and type "cost of living" and the name of any city and you will be brought to a list of dozens of sites claiming to have the most accurate description of how much things cost in that city.

Let's take Hong Kong. Lists will tell you how much you will spend in Hong Kong for a nanny, kindergarten, international school, a plasma tv, a boat.

Ang tanong: do we really care? It's as if these price indices were prepared by losers who simply guess what items foreigners would be insterested in.

So as a service to my fellow man, here is a basket of goods I have compiled. I trust this wil be useful to you (all amounts in HK Dollar):

1 order of plain rice - 7-10
1 bottle of Russian vodka - 115-130
dinner at a French restaurant for two with wine - 1,200
6 pieces chicken nuggets at McDonald's - 12
taxi ride - 15 (flag down); a 20 minute ride would cost about 40
DVD (original) - 100-250 (depending how new the title is)
movie ticket - 80
medium sized container of popcorn at the movies - 25

The Mathematics of Friendster

I have 120 friends on Friendster. I've always thought this was a pathetic number, with other people's lists breaking the 200 level easily and frequently.

But then I noticed the number of my "second degree" Friendsters: 4,348.

Assuming each of my 120 friends had their own 120 Friends (even counting overlap), I'd be looking at 14,400 second degree friends. Instead I have 4,348 (and only God know how many of those are fictional, diffrent profiles of the same person, etc.).

Divide 4,348 by 120 and you get 36.2; the average number of friends my friends have. I therefore have 330% more friends than my friends do.

Look who's Ms. Popular all of a sudden.

Can't Complain

I worked the whole day today (Sunday). Most people would be up in arms for having to toil on God's day of rest.

My take: ok, lang.

Pay's good and I get to fly home 2-3 times a month on business.

Beat that.

Cook for a Day

I'm not sure what freaks people out more about me. The fact that I wear skirts (because this freaks me out too) or the fact that I can cook. And I mean I know more than how to fry an egg. I'm talking sinigang cook.

I know, freaky.

So between buying the god-damned Tumi carry-on and working my tail off yet again, I cooked. Pan fried garlic tenderloin tips with soy sauce. Fresh shrimps sauteed in tomatoes, onions and my special secret ingredients (it involves chili).

Hmmmm..... let's recap. I earn enough money to put 4 children through college and I cook.

Putang ina, I would marry me.

On Not Acquiring

As a general rule, I don't like buying things.

I tell myself I do, so I research and comparison shop and ask people where they bought their laptop or watch or car or make-up (ok maybe not this last one) and then I reasearch and comparison shop again. I am one focused and driven comparison shopper.

Then I don't buy anything.

There was the mountain bike, the Omega Seamaster, dozens of shoes I can't remember, the bags (I don't even know why I look at them, I don't carry them.)

I know a lot about the things I never buy. It's not the money (we all know that). And it's not the spending either. I can drop US$200 on an evening of expensive cocktails, but I can't buy myself a US$25 purse.

It's this whole concept of acquiring. I'm not really into it. I buy things I need (like toothpaste) and I buy things I want (like a book or a DVD). But I don't buy things that other people consider necessary, like new shoes or bags or shirts. I buy these things when I need them. I don't really care for them.

I guess that not having a desire to shop is actually a good thing since I now live in shopping central. But I feel left out when my friends talk about this new skirt they just really needed to have. My thinking is, unless you're on some desert island naked, you will never really "need" a skirt. (And come to think of it, if you're on that desert island, wouldn't you need drinking water first before that Gucci knock-off skirt?)

I actually have the day off today. I'll be going to the mall to get a big juicy steak for dinner, and that Tumi cabin bag I've been looking at for months.

The Mother of All Assholes

Let's get one thing straight first: I'm a lawyer; I AM an asshole. So if you're thinking of leaving a smart ass comment like, "It takes one to know one"; too bad. I've beaten you to it.

People have called me arrogant, mayabang, ma-angas, ma-hangin, and a couple of times: saksakan ng mayabang. No biggie. I know I come off strong sometimes; that's how I am. But speak to me for two minutes and you will realize: "Oo nga, ang yabang nito."

But last night. My God. I've met him. The most arrogant and self-centered man in the universe. Ang galing. (Like when you see a growth in a man's neck the size of a fist, "galing".) And I thought I was bad. This guy made me look like Anna Lisa or Flor de Luna, or one those really meek chick types.

I know it takes all kinds for the world to turn. Yada, yada, yada. But this individual should be put down.

But stop. Wait.

I could be this prick in a couple of years. The money, the lifestyle. You get sucked in and when they spit you out you're a soulless excuse for a person.

Thank God for mother asshole. Now I know what I don't want to be when I grow up.

Alala Mo Nung Sikat Yung...

I have this theory about Pinoys: we always need something to obsess about that is uso. I don't know why that is, but Filipinos tend to really enjoy trends (alliteration intended... and there it is again!). Trends in anything: food, fashion, political uncertainty, religion. You name it, we got it.

Lechon manok, shawarma, Zagu and just recently, Go Nuts Donuts. What's goes on during these "food frenzies" I don't really know, but they occur every couple of years and it always (as in always) involves some sort of consumable as a hyper popular business venture. Someone makes a lot of money making sago drinks and before you know it, BOOM! Every corner has an annoying yellow Zagu sign.

Tretorns, Reeboks, Espadrilles. Ok, so this was a while back. But remember when they were super uso? As in if you didn't wear them, you were out (play on words intended). Did you know that Tretorn is a Sweedish brand? Reebok English and Esparille Spanish? Pati yung progeny ng uso, uso din. No wonder sikat din yung K-Swiss noon.

Singles, Couples, Bakers, and Candlestickmakers for Christ. This I don't get at all. Why do you need to form a group to honor God? I have no idea. But Filipinos lurv creating "prayer groups" and "bible circles" and "charismatic organizations". Like praying in solitude is something for losers. [As you may note, I have serious issues with oraganized worship of any sort. But that is for another post. Basta, the point here is that uso ang Bible study sa 'Pinas.]

Coups, Scandals, White Elephants. In a country whose government is as corrupt as it is ineffective, it is not surprising that there is always one form of political malfeasance going on. When I was in high school, coup attempts were almost as frequent as Menudo concerts. Every politician and his mother gets implicated in scandals (none of whom ever get prosecuted). And you're not a President unless you leave a big hunk of crap the country pays billions of Pesos for (i.e. the Bataan nuclear power plant, that Expo center in Clark and the mega dike).

Someone Hand Me a Can Opener

When I moved here, my Dad instructed me to bring an assortment of canned goods. Yes, you read that right: nag dala ako ng de lata. Parang akong typhoon evacuee in a provincial high school gym in the middle of rainy season.

I brought the following food items with me:

6 cans of Campbell soup (various flavors)
10 little cans of Purefoods corned beef (this I actually wanted to bring)
3 cans of Spam Lite
3 bottles of Spanish sardines

Now I'm down to 3 cans of soup, 1 Spam, the Spanish sardines and 8 tins of corned beef. I've been here over a month and cannot seem to make a real dent on these groceries.

Tonight though, I am staying in and intend to tick off another can of soup from my To Eat List.

I Hate Seinfeld

I hate the TV show Seinfeld. It's not just not funny. It is downright annoying.

And no, it's not like I don't get the ridiculous humour. I understand what they are trying to do. Unrelated although intertwined plot lines that cause incongruity is theoretically funny. But that's as far as Seinfeld goes. It's funny in theory.

But I think I should just come clean and not over-think things. I don't like Seinfeld because there are no physically attractive people in it. Friends was shallow and dumb, but I tolerated it because you had skinny girls with long straight hair in it.

Look who's being shallow and dumb.

Finding God

I'm in a slump. I think the move has lost it's novelty and now I just have to accept the stark realities about moving to a foreign country. As always, I've made a list. And here's what I have so far:

1. No friends.
2. No roots.
3. No car.
4. Language barrier.
5. An entire 2-bedroom apartment (with a kitchen and a bathroom) as big as my bedroom back home.
6. No car.

Have I mentioned no car? This lack of mobility is unnerving. But that's for another post.

So here I am, slaving away and thinking what a sad and lonely life I lead (gotta hype the drama so the punch line has more golpe.)

I work about 12-15 hours a day, everyday, even weekends. And believe me, I am a very efficient worker. It is the volume of work that is tremendous. The volume would make an average person go into a fetal position and rock slowly. I drink lots of coffee and sleep very little. I am a manic worker. I am a machine, baby.

But as I toil away on yet another late night I think... what is missing in my life? And how do I fill this void? Do I need to join a Bible group and find God?

[Aside: I have two former colleagues (lawyers!) who actually did this when they moved to Singapore. In my opinion, the only valid reason to join a Bible group is to meet men/women. It's called Singles for Christ for a reason.]

I mull over this thought for a moment and come to a revelation (Biblical pun intended).

And here it is:

I don't need God; I need to buy something very expensive. (I am so twisted. This is actually how my brain works.)

I'll let you know what I pick out on my next post.

Employee of the Month

I think I am the perfect employee.

No, not because of skill or talent or experience. I have none of that. (Ok, maybe a little.)

What I do have a lot though is time. Time to spend at my job.

In Hong Kong, I have no family, no friends and strictly speaking, no home. So I can work 100% of the time I am not asleep or attending to personal hygiene. Which in my time

Toil and Strife

is about 17-18 hours a day. (And which is how much I've clocked the last a couple of days.)

The perfect employee is someone who has no priorities other than work, and the only types who can do that are single people from out of town. This dawned on me while I was typing away at the office about half an hour ago. Employers can dramatically increase productivity and efficiency at the workplace by hiring only the unattached foreigners. This is an amazing discovery! I cannot wait to tout this theory to People Support or some other call center. I will make millions!

I will also tell them that they should hire people who don't need to sleep much and those who like coffee or caffeine laced drinks. And when they've finally found that insomniac foreigner with no love life, I'd tell them to ask her if she has control issues.

If she says yes, hire her. They've found a hardworking sucker they can bleed.

Reason #8

I like living in Hong Kong for a number of reasons. First there's the job, and the lifestyle that it affords me. Then there's the city itself. And the things I have access to here that I didn't in Manila....

...like the library of foreign (i.e. non-American) films I have at my fingertips. Over the last four weeks I've seen the following movies:


The Sea Inside (Spain). Sobrang sad 2000. Not weepy sad, but tragic-hand-me-that-butter-knife-and-watch-me-perform-harakiri sad. The Sea Inside is based on the life of Ramon Samperdro, a quadraplegic who wants to be euthenized. Plot summary pa lang, gusto mo nang mag-laslas. Watch this movie. It won the Academy Award for Best Foreign Film (2004) for a reason.




The Banquet (China). Hero meets House of Flying Daggers meets Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon meets Greek tragedy (complete with chorus). You get the idea. It's formulaic, but still oh so beautiful. Cinematography will make you salivate. Fight sequences are entrancing.




First Love (Japan) [apparently, hindi uso ang movie poster sa Japan]. Yet another movie to remind me how bad Filipino cinema is. This movie was so simple, but so well executed. Set in the 1960's, the film follows the story of a young girl who gets involved in the biggest bank robbery in Japanese history. As this movie will show, making a good film is not rocket science. I don't understand why we just can't connect the dots.

Happily Ever After (France). Yvann Attal is my boyfriend. He's short, average looking, but oh so funny. Like Kevin Spacey (my other boyfriend). He teams up with his real-life wife Charlotte Gainsbourgh in this story about the innate intricacies of romantic relationships. Definitely not his best work (I actually enjoyed the pop-corn flick Athony Zimmer more than this one) but he's still cute, and he's still my boyfriend.



I look forward to the other movies I'll get to see. There's an HMV on the first floor of my office building with a wall of movies dedicated to "World Cinema". Now I know where all my money will go.

Libreng Kape

I drink a lot of coffee. Which is why it was great that at my old firm, it was coffee all you can. They had Cafe Puro sponsored percolators on each floor. It was swill. But the human condition being what it is, I got used to the swill.

Now I work at a Wall Street firm and of course, they have coffee all you can as well. Kaya nga lang Starbucks. No kidding. They have a special machine they bought/leased from Starbucks and beans from Starbucks, and paper cups with the Starbucks logo, and the green swizzle sticks. All for free at the pantry.

Ang saya.

Clothes Don't Fit

Since gaining 10 pounds during my period of inactivity between jobs, I think I've lost 20. So I'm thinner now then when I started gaining all that weight in June.

I am very happy about this. But the thing is now, my clothes don't fit. Remember those suits I had made? They all hang loosely on me, like I bought them off the rack.

I don't want to buy new stuff (since I am cheap and might gain all the weight back) nor do I have the time to get my clothes altered.

So in the meantime, I walk around in loose clothing, like a rapper, but in a business suit.

Today is Payday

I told myself I would never blog about it, but I just can't get over it.

The truth is, I make a ridiculous amount of money.

I now make in 15 days more than what I made the first year out of law school.

It boggles the mind.

Be Careful Of What You Wish For

I'm back from a 48 hour trip to Manila. More meetings, more drafting, more mark-ups, more coffee, more posturing, more work, less sleep.

Actually no sleep Tuesday night.

I know, I know. I asked for this. I've been craving to keep busy. Only 6 weeks ago, I blogged about the brain numbing idleness of doing nothing.

But after this grueling month, I gotta say: the grass is always greener.

All Grown Up

Yesterday I signed the lease for my new flat.

I consider it my first official act as an adult. Ok, so maybe at 31 I'm a little late, but hey, I pay in rent per month what most people pay in a year, so cut me some slacks. LOL.

Again, as with most things, the experience was anti-climactic. I thought I had to pass on the flat when a conference call I was on lasted longer than expected. The realtor told me I had to show up at the leasing office at 1230. At 430, I was still on the never-ending call. The realtor was specific: if I don't show up at the designated time, they're going to lease it to someone else. And then I go back to the end of the reservation line or start my search all over again. Take your pick.

I got back to my office more exhausted from the call then disappointed about passing up on the apartment. By that time I really didn't care where I lived for so long as I got that squeeky voice of the client out of my head.

I found a brown envelope on my seat. It contained the contract and a yellow sticky that said I should sign on the dotted line and make sure I had a messenger send it to the leasing office before 600. I checked my watch: lots of time.

I move into the showcase apartment November 4.

The Best (and Worst) Things About Living Alone

The Best:

1. It's quiet. When you get home, you don't need to tell anyone about how your day went. You turn on the lights, slide into pajamas and unwind. No need to make conversation.

2. You can live like a slob. With no one to tell you to pick up afteryourself (and twice a week maid service) you can leave that pair of jeans in the exact spot where you took them off. You can leave the dishes unwashed (yay!) and no one will tell you you have the habits of Oscar the Grouch.

3. You can do anything you damn well please. Wanna change the channel in the middle of House? Go right ahead. Want to eat? Then go nuke something. Wanna go for a walk and see lots of Chinese people? Enjoy. You don't want to do anything apart from stare at a wall all day? Suits me just fine. You think about no one's schedule apart from your own.


The Worst:

1. It's too quiet. Sometimes I'm in the middle of doing a mundane household chore and I remember something funny. I laugh out loud, turn to say something and then realize no one is there.

2. I'm turning into a slob. No one is nagging me to hang my jeans after I take them off. The iron I tried to work on my first day here is in the exact same spot I left it 4 weeks ago. My dry cleaning is still hung on my door, with the plastic covers of the suits I've worn strewn everywhere. If the place I'm staying at didn't have maid service, this place would like Darfur (on a good day).

3. There is no number 3.

That's just it. I love the fact I can do anything I damn well please. Moving here on a whim is precisely something I could not have done if I were attached or had dependents.

And the freedom is intoxicating.

HK Resident OCW Travelling Business w/ Foresight

I have discovered the perfect combination of travel accomodations/documents to get you through the Ninoy Aquino International Airport, then over 784 nautical miles over the South China Sea, and through the Hong Kong International Airport in the fastest, least stressful way.

Allow me to share this information with you:

1. Travel Business. This gets you to the head of the line to check-in. No need to mingle with the hoi polloi in coach. Those guys spend almost an hour in line just to check-in. Plus on business, you get preferred baggage status when you get to HK, so your bags come out first (that is, if you checked-in a bag).

I admit, this is a rather costly component to my proposed scheme. But hey, The Firm pays, so I don't really give a flying rat's ass about how much it costs.

2. Be a registered OCW with a valid Overseas Employment Certificate. Being an official "Bagong Bayani ng Bayan" gets you perks. Like a special line to pay the terminal fee (i.e. because we don't pay). Also, if you wear a suit, you get waived through immigration with no questions. But I think this special treatment is a result of the suit, not of the OCW status.

3. Be a card-carrying HK Resident. Have you seen the immigration lines at the HK airport? They are ridiculous! You literally wait 40 minutes to get to the counter. If you have one of them smart HK ID Cards though, you swipe it through a turnstile and you're through. Saya.

4. Always remember to book car service in advance. Airport transfer is key. You cannot take the bus or other public transport to or from the airport. Neither can you afford to hire a car a couple of hours before you fly or when you just land. It is just too stressful. Make previous arrangements for a car to bring you to and from the airport. This will save you a lot of consternation (or inversely, make you one happy camper).

Masarap Maging Dayuhan sa Sariling Bayan

It's fun to be foreign counsel in the jurisdiction where you're licensed because:

(OMG, that was such a nerdy thing to say, but I've been having so much fun these last few days!)

1. You know local law and know when local counsel is wrong or when they are trying to impress.

2. You understand the local language; the client and local counsel (or anyone else for that matter) can't just jump to the local dialect to throw you off or insult you. (Believe me, I did this a lot on deals with foreign counsel.)

3. Local delicacies are actual treats and not things straight out of Fear Factor.

4. I now know the meaning of "Go ahead, have the 16 oz. steak, you can expense it."

5. People assume you're a foreigner and speak to you in broken English.

6. You get to wear a suit all day and feel important wearing the monogrammed shirt you couldn't wear when you were local counsel (because no one else did and you felt sort of stupid).

7. Your contracts are so well bound, they would make the staff at Kinko's (or InterMatrix) cry.

8. You feel like you're always pushing the deal forward.

9. The counterparty's foreign counsel respects you right off the bat.

And my favorite reason of all...

10. The local lawyers defer to your judgment.


PS. I am dork. Ignore me.

On Being Home (But Not)

I've been in Manila since Saturday night. And while I feel like I'm home (driving around, going out with friends, hanging out with the parental units, texting for only P1 a pop) I feel that I am only visiting. Like the whole concept of home has been turned on its head.

While walking around Rockwell yesterday afternoon, it felt so good to be a local. You look like everyone else. Speak the language. Understand and appreciate the nuances of culture and behavior. I felt a sense of calm at the idea that I was among my fellow Pinoys. It felt so good to belong; to be just like everyone else.

But then I get this eerie sensation that I'm not from here. I guess it's because in less than 48 hours I'll be on a plane back to the land of SAR(s), where ever so slowly and steadily I am building a life.

This transition period sucks. I am neither here nor there and believe me, you'd rather be somewhere other than nowhere.

My New Toy

The Samsung X820 is the world's slimmest phone.

It is about as thin as three credit cards piled one on top of the other (6.6 milimeters).

It is so crazy thin that holding it takes some getting used to. The interface is similar (enough) to Nokia's. But screen resolution is so (SO) much better. And it's quicker too. You don't have to wait for that half second to send an SMS or jump from one menu to another.

Internal memory is something like 80MB, so you can keep up to 12 songs to play on it's MP3 player. You could save more, but then you wouldn't have space for all the pictures you'd take with the 2MP camera the guys from Samsung stuck in there too.

You take a look at this baby and think: technology is f*ing fantastic.
And it's not expensive. At under P14k, I paid the same amount for this beauty as I did for my 5110 back in '97.

What Did I Tell Ya?

I got into town around 7pm last night. Just in time for the start of the fourth quarter of Game 2 of the UAAP Men's Basketball championships.

Ateneo v. UST. Ateneo won Game 1 of the three game series (I was in Hong Kong). Winning Game 2 meant winning the championship.

But of course, that would not be the case, since I was now back in Manila. I hate to admit it, but while I am the biggest, bluest, Ateneo fan there is, I am also the most consistent, most potent, Ateneo jinx there ever was.

I leave Tuesday night. Game 3 is Monday afternoon.

Consider this my public apology to my fellow alumni.