Dirty, shaken, and with extra olives, please.

It's a sad truth, but martinis, like old records are going out of style. People now drink beer (even during cocktail parties) and wine, tequila and vodka. Gin (the base of all true martinis) has been relegated to a drunkard's poison or a farmhand's drink.

What a sad state of affairs.

Gin is my favorite spirit. It's not easy to drink, you need the right mixers or you end up with a concoction that tastes like Green Cross alcohol. And you need a steady hand and standard measuring equipment (that or years of experience). But there's something about the bite (some will call it an after taste) of a perfectly mixed martini that will make your head spin (or some people gag). And it's that bite (no, not alcoholic kick, I'm referring to a taste) that makes gin so special.

For you plebes, vodka is distilled from potatos or grain (that's it). Gin, while distilled from grains as well, is infused with botanicals, most notably juniper. And no, I did not Wikipedia this. I really know this. It's the botanicals that make gin a "livelier" drink. Vodka is considered a "neutral" spirit. (Ok, that part was Wikipedia-ed.)

Back home, I made my own martinis, but it felt like I was a character in M.A.S.H., sipping from a martini glass in a ratty shirt and flip-flops. Now I sip them in real bars (we don't have these in Manila, why!??!) where everyone understands "dirty, shaken, and with extra olives" and the shocked look I have when servers ask if I want my martini with vodka.

Noah's Ark

Some Dutch creationist just built a replica of Noah's Ark. (See full story here)

I'm not sure what surprised me more, the construction of the ark, or the fact that there are creationists in the Netherlands. I've always thought so highly of them.

Sana some Japanese creationist will build a replica of the whale that swallowed Jonah. And while he's at it, burning bush na rin.

Graduate na ako dyan

My grandmother would always say that to refer to things she had grown too old to enjoy or to situations she had overcome and did not wish to re-live.

For example:

Being the youngest (i.e. slave) in an organization. Graduate na ako dyan.
Grappling with what you want to do when you grow up. Graduate na ako dyan.
Having to make science projects. Graduate na ako dyan.

I came to this whole “been there, done that” train of thought while reading someone else’s blog. This woman who writes it (much older than me) said she wanted to go backpacking.

Hmmmm….

Why on earth would anyone want to do that at this age?! Seriously. Aren’t we too old to be even carrying backpacks? I'm not talking about travelling ala Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous, but don’t you want to fly into a country and know where you’re staying for the duration of your trip? Enjoy 6 course meals (with wine pairing) while you look out into the bay or mountains or ocean or skyline. Sleep on a real bed with thousand thread sheets. Take a warm bath in a huge bathroom you share only with your traveling companion?

Traveling on the cheap. Graduate na ako dyan.

Have you ever been obsessed with a TV show?

I have, I must confess. Quite a number of times.

The first time was when I was 13 and R. was 15 and we were crazy about General Hospital. Yes, the soap opera. We were so into the Robert-Katherine-Anna love triangle/story arc that we would watch the episodes R. would tape everday after school. We'd read Soap Opera Digest to stay in the know. I confess that I named my favorite pillow Robert.

I was obsessed (though to a lesser degree) with Dawson's Creek. I didn't follow it religiously like I did GH, but there was something about the Dawson, Joey Pacey triumvirate that got to me. I read fan faction, can you believe it? To think that I was already in law school when this show ran. I confess that I had B. tape the final episode and mail it to me.

I was also very into Sex in the City. While I was living in New York as a poor grad student, I lived the glitzy life through Carrie, Charlotte, Miranda and Samantha. It was great to have this peek into NY society and compare it with things I actually saw in real life. Mr. Big was MY emotionally detached dreamboat. I confess that I actually read two of Candace Bushnells's books.

Chum and I really got into one season of Survivor and a couple of seasons of That 70's Show, but our interest in those two shows fizzled as quickly as it started.

Recently I've been into House and Grey's Anatomy (ie I've watch all the episodes currently available on DBD) but not with the same intense obsession I had with General Hospital, not even Dawson's Creek. I confess that The O.C. was becoming my latest guilty pleasure, but they cancelled it just as I was warming up to the show.

Alanis Morissette Makes Fun of Herself (and fails)

This is really her. Why she would do this is beyond comprehension. It's not even funny.

Darth Calls the Emperor

T.G.I.F.!

The long trek to pay day

Don't you just hate it when there are more than two weeks between pay days?

You're used to seeing the amount in your current account bump up every 14 days, and when it doesn't on the 15th day, you're pissed. When it's still doesn't on the 16th day, you're just plain sad.

And there's no one to blame but those Romans and their stupid calendar. This month we were paid on the 13th (because the 15th was a Sunday) and we won't receive the other check for the month until the 30th. That's 17 days. Ahhhhh! Two weeks AND A HALF.

Ok, I know I'm over reacting, considering my current state of employment, but still. When you're waiting for payday, it's not how much earn, it's when you get paid.

Walang ganyan sa HK (reasons to go back)

1. Stars.

2. Sunsets.

3. Parental units.

4. Freshly popped Lapid's chicharon.

5. Balconies filled with orchids.

Walang ganyan sa Pilipinas (aka reasons to stay in HK)

1. Killer job.

2. Smashing apartment.

3. Public transportation system.

4. Phenomenal industry.

5. Perfect martinis.

Falling like flies

Cousin T., N., and I counted the number of Associates who've left the Perm since the start of 2007. We got to 25. 25 lawyers left in 4 months. Sounds shocking, but that's about the average number of people who leave the firm on an annual basis.

Hmmm...

So maybe there is some cause for concern when you've hit your annual quota of lawyers-out-the-door right after the end of Q1.

Anyway, for everyone's information and future reference, The Firm has about the same rate of attrition as the Perm. It's actually a little lower at about 12-15% a year (the Perm hits about 20% a year) but the point I'm making here is that lawyers leaving law firms is just about as common as boob jobs in Beverly Hills.

Old movies

There’s something about catching a movie from your youth on tv. You plop on the couch, turn on the tv, channel surf a bit, then there it is, an old movie that just started or about a third of the way through. A movie you really liked when you were younger like Breakfast Club or Singles or Interview with a Vampire.

And you just sit there watching for a while. Recalling where you were the first time you saw that movie. Who you were.

You do this until your thoughts are no longer about the movie, they’re about you. How you wore your hair puffy and teased to look just like the actresses in it. How you bought the soundtrack because there was this one song you loved. How you memorized the lyrics to that song. Danced to it with whatshisface at some random party.

And then you look up and it’s still there, the movie that brought you to that place where you just were and you think, “Damn that movie is old. Jennifer Jason Leigh was still sikat.”

The brains behind this operation

This is weekend Jona. Note the ugly glasses. I type out most of my blogs from my kitchen (see background). My new laptop has a built-in camera. But it doesn't rotate so the only thing I can take pictures of is me. So there.

Slumbook Politics

Remember when we had slumbooks? We were around 10 or 11. Fourth or fifth grade. At that age your slum book, together with your Merci Beaucoup ballpen collection were your prized posessions. Maybe you had a statio (staionary) collection you valued dearly, but the autograph book and the pens -- they were priceless.

I love the politics of slumbooks. Obviously WHO gets to sign the slumbook is crucial (and I will get to that) but also of utmost importance is the SEQUENCE of who gets to sign your super special autograph book. Of course you go first. And of course you don't answer the "Who is your crush?" question since you're afraid people will tease you to Robby Rosa.

Your selection of the first person you ask to sign your slumbook is crucial. It's like picking allies in times of war. You make the wrong choice and the other side will invade you, or worse, not make you sign her slum book. A fate worse than death.

And so you make your choice and she puts "swimming" as a Hobby and "too many mention" under Likes. You go down the list of friends you have (in a precise sequence) and you can see the look of some people when they sign your book -- "Hmmmm... X signed before me. She's closer to Jona than me?" or "Oh my God Y is here! Let me read her page first...."

Sometimes you go "out of your league" and ask a really popular kid to sign your book. Most will, but they'll put bullshit answers like hearts and arrows under "Define love" or silly drawings under "Have you ever been in love?" The cool kids never really mean the things they write.

I like how the decision on who NOT to put in your slumbook is just as important as who goes in. There are just some completely unpopular stay-the-hell-away-from-them kids that get ostracized by the entire class. Maybe they had slumbooks too, but only the first page was filled-in.

And remember when a friend would so mess up her page she'd want to tear the page out and sign again? God I hated that. There were only 24 pages in my Merit autograph book, and I had allocated a page to each of my friends. Letting her tear out a page would mean un-friending someone: The girl who messed up your prestine slumbook, or friend no. 24 who you really didn't care about. Yet another difficult decision to make.

Ah, the politics of slumbooks.

I think this blog needs more pictures

Here are some random photos I took in Macau. Randomly selected, not ramdomly shot.

The Love of My Life

He's cranky, opinionated, wants his own way all the time, is constantly asking for his Mommy, won't eat, is allergic to everything, throws tantrums, loves his trains more than me, insists on being read the same story 15 times before he goes to bed, runs around all the time you think he'll break something (like his neck), thinks he's the center of the universe (well, because he is.)

While I was crossing Pedder Street this morning...

...I thought that you can combine any of these words to make the name of any Chinese restaurant

Garden
Golden
Pagoda
Peking
Happiness
Deer
Spring
Lotus
Jade
Imperial
Pearl
Sun

Admittedly, some will sound funny, but some are right on!

Try it and see!

xxx

Click HERE to go to Pete's Chinese Restaurant Name Generator. Apparently these "original" ideas of mine aren't that original.

Why?

In Bowling For Columbine, Michael Moore wants us to believe that Americans are violent not because they are armed with weapons that can take down helicopters, but because they are being scared by the media. Mr Moore's theory is fairly straightforward: since Americans live in an environment of fear, they are more prone to violence. I'm not sure if I agree, but at least Mr. Moore proffers a theory.

The recent school shooting at the University of Virginia got me thinking -- why do these incidents occur more frequently in the United States than anywhere in the world? The U.S. doesn't have a monopoly, that's for sure -- there have been many a school massacre around the globe -- but why does it happen in the States all the time?

First I thought, it's probably media/TV coverage. Since the U.S. has the best TV in the world, we know more about the shootings because of CNN. It's not that there are more U.S. school shootings, they're just more publicized.

...

Nah. There really are more school shootings in the States.

So as is my usual practice when I have these ideas in my head, I go to Wikipedia and try to find out more about the subject. Type in "school shooting" and you get sent to this page.

In Wiki's list of 41 "notable" school shootings, 27 occured in the U.S.

So the question begging to be asked is, "WHY?"

I'm thinking it might be because of all those violent video games (I'm not kidding. I'm not saying that everyone who plays with those silly things becomes killers. I'm saying crazy kids with a propensity for violence who play with those silly things do.) or because kids just aren't raised right in the States. It's certainly not because they have poor law enforcement. The perpetrators go to jail.

Why is it that in the Philippines, where there is almost zero law enforcement, kids aren't shooting each other? They're beating each other with paddles and calling each other "brother" but no one is shooting people randomly.

Is it because we have no guns? Is it religion? Fear of shame that such an act might bring to one's family?

I'm not sure what the answers to these questions are. Let me Wikipedia and get back to you.

Beautiful Day

When I was growing up in Manila in the 80's, I would hear people on TV say, "It's a beautiful day out today."

I never really knew what that meant. All days were the same. You got up and went to school. Recess, lunch then you went home. In the summer you didn't go to school but the days looked the same. Morning, afternoon, night.

Fast forward 20 years later and I found myself living in a small apartment room in NY. And then I got it. The whole "beautiful day" concept. Some days the sun shone brighter, the air was crisper, the colors of the leaves fuller. Like God fooled around with the tracking knob of the VCR and made the screen clearer. Or you finally wiped your glasses of a week's worth of grime.

I am happy to report that there are beautiful days in Hong Kong. And my God are they gorgeous. The perennial HK haze lifts, and you see the city in this new light. Literally new -- like from a younger more energetic sun.

The sky looks like it's been squeegeed. And the skyline doesn't only look like a postcard (it always does) it looks like it's been digitally enhanced. The edges of the building are sharper.

It's a beautiful day out today.

Crazy Diet

I'm on a crazy diet. I hardly eat at lunch because of work, and at night, I've taken to drinking lots of soy milk instead of having dinner.

It's crazy because I think I kinda like it.

Day Long Movies

It takes me about 4-6 hours to watch a standard full length film on DVD. It's an activity I enjoy immensely, my day long movies.

First the selection process. After each trip to Manila I come back to HK with a small library of new movies. Not counting the ones I've already seen before and may want to watch again, I have about two dozen new movies on video, waiting to be watched. Going through the selection and picking out the right movie for my current mood already takes about half an hour.

This weekend's selection was The Interpreter, the Sidney Pollack movie with Nicole Kidman and Sean Penn, with a small part from my French boyfriend, Yvan Attal. I figured it was a good to follow-up to yesterday's 5 hour Casino Royale.

It takes me 5 hours to watch movie because I stop it all the time to accomplish small tasks, like go to the bathroom, read parts of a book, text someone, sort laundry, brush my teeth, have lunch, think.

I hit "Pause" whenever I please because I can. Because I'm by myself and it gives me a sense of absolute control on how things should flow. Because it's up to me to decide when Nicole Kidman should get on her cool Vespa and drive to Central Park (whether it's before or after I sort laundry) or when Sean Penn will share the fact that his estranged wife just died (after I brush my teeth and read a few pages of A Spot of Bother but before I go down for lunch).

Sayaw ng Kamatayan

Am I the only one that thinks the developers of "The Deadliest Martial Arts" should have consulted a copywriter before coming up with ultra macho, ultra scary, stop-that-you're-freaking-me-out name, "Yaw Yan"?

Sounds like what a two year old would call his yaya.

To find out more about this "full-contact no-holds barred sport martial arts", here's a link to the Wikipedia article.

Now picture me doing a flying a kick.

YAW-YAN!

I used to...

1. Think my mother was infallible.

2. Drink vinegar until my lips turned white.

3. Jog.

4. Draw in pen and ink.

5. Play a song I liked over and over and over again. Sometimes, till I wrecked the tape. (I., remember when I was obsessed with Cyndi Lauper's Change of Heart?)

6. Like Menudo. (The Puerto Rican singing group, not the dish. I hate the dish.)

7. Climb trees.

8. Believe in Santa Claus. (Like really believe.)

9. Read comic books.

10. Be able to sing the Rule (of Procedure) on actionable documents to the tune of Jingle Bells. (This, I still can do.)

It's official: I miss R.

R. moved to Toronto a few weeks ago. I didn't really notice on account of me being obsessed with my life in Hong Kong. Yes, I am a bad best friend.

Then I was in Manila for a couple of weeks, and no visits to Burgos. No crashing the condo. No lunches at Le Ching. No peek-a-boo with the Kamster. Nothing.

And that's when I felt it -- R.'s absence.

I'm back in Hong Kong now and I still feel it.

If this won't make you smile from ear to ear, I don't know what will

God bless You Tube!

BBQ Haus

There are some things, like pork bar-b-que, that people in Manila take for granted. There is no such thing as (our version of) pork bar-b-que anywhere in the world. That is a fact. It exists only in the Philippines. And I think that's a good thing.

Maybe it's the combination of the bad meat, the pollution in the air, the worn paint brushes that are used to coat the pork in a strange but delicious orange glaze, but there's something about Philippine pork bar-b-que (or just plain bar-b-que) that is so special, so delightful, so unquestionably Filipino.

I'm going back to Hong Kong today, after two weeks in Manila (the longest I've been back since I left in September). And if there is one thing I have enjoyed during my stay here, it has been the food. The familiar scents and textures, the patis, calamansi, toyo and local suka.

So while I still had a couple of hours, I decided to go and get myself some bar-b-que. The place I used to go along E. Rodriguez was no longer there, so I decided to drive towards Tomas Morato and see what I could find.

What I found, near the corner of E. Rodriguez and Morato, was BBQ Haus. It's right in front of Dallas, the auto shop, where Big Bowl (the dimsum cum rice topping place) used to be. As far as I was concerned, a bar-b-que place open at 10:45 a.m. (I realized how early it was only after I set out for my quest for carcinogenic delights.) was a godsend. And there was parking. So I stepped out and ordered six sticks of fatty goodness (Had a guest over for lunch. Anong kala ninyo sa akin, patay gutom?)

This post, although already considerably long and all about food is really about BBQ Haus. And more specifically, BBQ Haus' menu. I had to wait about 15 minutes for the BBQ, so I decided to kill time by going over the menu.

Below are exerpts from the rather interesting BBQ Haus menu:

Appetizers

Baked talaba (steamed/inihaw) 100

Ala carte

Fried chicken (1 whole) 250
(1/2 half) 130

(isn't 1/2 of one half actually 1/4?)

From the Grill

Inihaw na salmon head (grilled/pinaputok) 45/100 gms
Chiicken (petso) 75
(paa) 75

(I thought perhaps this was a typo when I read..)

Chiicken (inasal) 75

(Which actually confused me more since I thought the whole paa/petso reference referred to inasal.)


All Day Breakfast

Tapsilog 75
Longsilog 75
Longalog 75
Cornsilog 75 (malamang corned beef ito)
Adsilog 75 (addidas? adobo?)


Mami

Beef mami 75
Chicken mami 75

(so I guess "chiiken" was a typo)

Wanton mami 75
Combination 90
Siomai 42
Siopao Asado 28

(Because siomai and siopao are in fact mami variants)

Darth's Younger Sibling

My sister's in town.

Most of the readers of this blog know that my older sister, I., is a genius.
She graduated at the top of all her classes (driving and swimming class included). She was the first woman to graduate summa cum laude and valedictorian from the Ateneo. As a physician, she gets into any program she wants.

And then there's me. Chad.

How to earn 30% more

Over lunch today I had to explain for the umpteenth time that I am a card carrying Overseas Filipino Worker (OFW). It’s sad but the truth is that when someone says OFW, people automatically think seaman or domestic helper. Somehow, Registered Foreign Attorney doesn’t quite fit the OFW mold.

People laugh (as they did today) and think I should feel bad for having to go through a registration process that they consider “beneath” me.

Please don’t feel bad for me. Here’s the deal people: OFWs DON’T PAY PHILIPPINE TAX.

I don’t even have to file a tax return* for crying out loud.

And for those who have forgotten how much Philippine tax is, it’s 33% of your income. So if you earn P100, you actually “take-home” only P67. I pay only Hong Kong taxes, with an effective rate of approximately 13%. So while your sorry little ass takes home P67, I’m whistling to the bank with my P87.

Continue crunching the numbers and you will realize that someone earning P87 is earning almost 30% more than someone earning P67.

Looks who’s laughing now.

x x x

*For everyone else, don't forget to file your income tax returns next Monday.

Good Friday

Remember when we were kids and we had nothing to do on Good Friday? It was terribly hot and there was nothing on TV, the kids in the neighborhood stayed indoors so you couldn't go out and play. You sat around feeling hot and bored.

In our teens nothing was open so even if we wanted to go out there was nowhere to go, so again, you're stuck at home watching the 7 Last Words or Ben Hur.

Now Good Friday is no longer hot (Al Gore might just be right about the climate change nonsense), there's cable and the some shops are actually open. You can actually have an almost normal day off from work, except that when you're about to go out and actually do something, you remember it's Good Friday and perhaps we should be good Catholics and instead sit around all day and do nothing or worse, watch bad local tv.

T.Y.

Each time I type out an e-mail that involves me thanking the addressee, I clam up. I know, it's a rather mundane task to thank someone when sending e-mail, but each time I have to, I worry about how to thank a person.

I've expressed gratitude using all of the words/phrases on this list. But somehow, each of them doesn't quite capture the message I'm trying to convey.

Thanks.

Usually the best way to show gratitude, but is so overused that I think it has lost its meaning. While at The Perm, people would close ALL e-mail with "Thanks," using it interchangeably with "Regards" or "Cheers". There's something slightly insincere about "Thanks." It's the English equivalent of, "Salamat, ha."

Tks. or Thx.

These are unacceptable to me, even if you are using a Blackberry. I don't understand why someone can't type out the 3 other letters to make out "Thanks". If "Thanks" sounds insincere, then Tks. or Thx. is less than insincere.

Many thanks.

Pretentious, but formal. So I use this quite a lot in work e-mail. You get the message across without sounding cute.

Thank you.

If you think about it, we should all just say "thank you" when we mean to say "thank you". But sometimes this looks awkward. Specially when you're closing with "Thank you." You almost sound like a beauty pageant contestant who after introducing herself as the representative of the sunny and historic Mehiko, closes with "I, thank you."

Thank you very much.

I think the whole "very much" part is just too much. It sounds like you're gushing. O.A. to be used all the time. Should be saved for those moments when you really are thankful.

Maraming salamat.

My favorite. This was my version of The Perm's "Thanks." practice. There's something cheerful and amiable about closing a rather complicated e-mail on derivatives with "Maraming salamat." Tells the reader that you're not as stuck-up as you may sound.

Thing is, this only works with Pinoys.

On napping

There are few things in life more pleasurable than taking a nap. And I'm not talking about those ridiculous 10-minute "power" naps. I'm talking about the 2-3 hour, middle of the afternoon snooze fests.

The ones you have after a heavy lunch on a weekend or while on vacation. The ones that start out with your eye lids getting very heavy. You're not tired; you've been lounging around all day. But somehow, sleep beckons at 2:30 in the afternoon. And you respond.

You fall into this deep and restful slumber. Where the world disappears and there is nothing. You don't dream. You sleep the sleep of the just, dead, patay-gutom, or righteous. Take your pick.

You wake up three hours later rejuvinated. Like the Energizer bunny with a new battery pack. You're in a great mood, not like how you are when you wake up in the morning. Your body feels like Jell-o.

You feel so good you stay in bed a couple more hours minutes. You want to hold on to that state, the semi-conciousness, the absence of external stimulus. But as with most precious things, it goes away.

And you're up.

A Sort of Writer's Block

Have you ever felt the urge to write?

To put pen to paper or more accurately now, fingertips to keypad. To narrate or observe. To critique. To express a point of view, publish findings. To say something out loud.

And then nothing.

You can't think of anything to say.

You have this impulse to be creative or just to declare your prevailing thoughts, and yet when the time comes to write, you realize you actually don't have any prevailing thoughts. Or at least those worth blogging about.

"Ok, I'm going to blog today. Super blogging. Three posts. I can feel it."

[Hmmm... la di da... nothing. I sit for about 15 minutes checking my Friendster page on another window.]

"Any minute now. The thoughts are just going to cascade down, my hands will have a mind of their own as I type away the funniest of anecdotes."

[Hmmmm, that's funny, I think there's a pebble in my shoe.]

"Ok, pebble gone. There's nothing between me and a killer post. Go, Jona. You can do it."

[....]

[.......]

[.]

"I wonder what I'm going to have for dinner. Maybe I should make a quick stop to Wellcome."

Bar Shmar

The bar exam results came out today. If this were 3 or 4 years ago (and for 6 years before then), I'd be pacing in anticipation, calling old friends at the Supreme Court to see if a buddy of mine made it. If it were a few years ago, I'd be at a bar tonight, drinking with the new lawyers.

Today, I don't really give a flying rat's ass who passes or fails the Philippine bar. It's funny how something that consumed a big chunk of my life (about 10 years counting the time I was in law school) is now rather meaningless to me. I remember being gripped with anticipation and fear the weeks before the bar results came out. Rumor after rumor would circulate about the results and we'd scrutinize and vet the news like embedded reporters in Baghdad.

I didn't even know the results were coming out today until they actually came out today.

People change, time passes, you move on. All the cliches are true.

Jason and Me

Jason was my rave buddy. Years ago, we'd get into his beat up Lancer that went 50km at its top speed and dance (or sway) the night away at some random psychedelic venue. When we weren't at raves, we'd be discussing the most indelicate of subjects in our own very articulate fashion.

But that was a long time ago. We're all grown up now. Jason's married, his wife is expecting. He lives in a house he's making payments on. I've moved away and am on my own in a foreign land.

But as you will see from the excerpts of this morning's chat, somethings never change...


Jason: hey you!
Jason: are you in HK?
Jona: howsitgoing, stranger
Jona: nope, am actually in town.
Jona: are you a father?
Jason: not yet, might be soon now
Jona: coolness!!
Jason: the misus is already 1 cm dilated
Jona: ok, that was a little too much information
Jason: since we're on the topic of too much information - my OB informs me that I can now bonk my wife again to induce labor
Jona: ok, fine. noted. since you have crossed the TMI line anyway....
Jason: apparently my penis, aside from having the power of life also has the power of birth
Jona: man, that's deep
Jona: (pun intended)
Jason: and with a wave of my mighty man wand I shall usher my son into the world