My date with me: a list of things to do on my first day off.

By Ploy Songkaeo, a girl who really needs a day off.

Wake up, reasonably late, but not too late as to waste half a day.

Wash my face, throw my hair up, put on enough makeup not to look dead, but not too much. This is, after all, my day off.

Put clothes on, too, of course. Bangkok may be many things – but not a nudist colony.

And flip flops, definitely flips flops. Nothing signals a day off better than flip flops.

Go to Central Ladprao and grab brunch at Ootoya; I want the ‘Charcoal grilled hamburger with demiglace sauce’ right about NOW.

By some DVDs, real, of course, if only because I am too lazy to find out if the fake DVD stores accept credit cards.

(Read: I never have cash. Ever. Yes, it is mildly inconvenient, but as long as Starbucks continues accepts credit cards for even the their 35 baht/$1 butterfly pastry, then I will never go hungry.)

Which has inspired me: after the DVDs, I should race to Starbucks right after to pick up a Grande Toffee Nut Frappucino and perhaps a cinnamon roll.

Then head down to the supermarket to stock up on popcorn and microwaveable food.

Also, some tomato puree and ground pork/chicken (‘Chinese’ beliefs held by my mother doesn’t allow beef into the casa). Seriously, at some point I should begin to use to stove to actually make my own food.

A list in a list: things to buy at the supermarket, aside from the aforementioned things:

Orange juice,

Milk,

Chocolate, preferably those ‘Merci’ Christmas edition ones,

Japanese Pocky, tons of them,

Actually, Japanese snacks in general will do just fine,

That’s…about it.

Oh, and bottled Starbucks lattes too, if they have it. (My fingers and toes are crossed.)

End of list.

Then, after stocking up, I’ll head home and hole up in the house for the next three days

Nothing, come hell or high water, will induce me to go out.

N-O-T-H-I-N-G.

I need to stay home. I haven’t had a day when I stayed home in almost a month.

Hibernation, that is what I need.

Ah, I ramble.

Now I must go back to work.

And yes, it is 3 am in the morning.

And also, yes, again, I just said I had to go back to work.

Don’t we all agree now I need a day off?

To be, or not to be.

This is dedicated to Ching, a wonderful friend, fellow fan of Neverwhere, Moist von Lipwig enthusiast, my date to see the Sherlock Holmes movie this December, and, most pertinent to the matter at hand, a person who believes that the entire Twilight Saga is an offense to humankind.

This might surprise some of you, but I do not have E! on my Blackberry. What I have, however, is TIME, and I must admit that the almost-hour influx of articles is actually pretty entertaining.

I kid you not.

I wouldn’t have known that North Korea was building a hotel, or that it was nicknamed ‘The Hotel of Doom’, if it weren’t for TIME. TIME also informed me of the Marvel superhero Hell Cow. Hah. Would never have gotten that from E!

Though I do love E!, but sometimes, who is dating whom just gets annoying.

(Hmm. That was a lenghty profession of love to TIME. Let’s go back to the matter-at-hand.) So through reading TIME ,I discovered that the most popular Halloween costume this year (I’m assuming for men) is Michael Jackson. (Note: this is according to the visitor poll at Fandango.) But, seriously, do people have NO RESPECT? The man has barely been dead for a year, much less a quarter, and people are parading around dressed as him. I do realize that there may be some ‘valid’ reason for dressing up as Mr. Jackson, such as you really admire the man. But seriously, most people who are dressed up as him are just doing it just because he’s DEAD. That is, simply, offensive.

(Takes a calming breath.)

Runner-ups to Monsieur Jackson are, respectively, Wolverine and (this is where Ching comes in) Edward Cullen. Now, Wolverine I can understand. Dressing up as Wolverine is cool, not to mention it can easily be thrown together semi-last minute. Wear a wife-beater and ripped jeans. I’m sure Target or Wal-mart sells fake claws. The hair isn’t hard to emulate. Plus, Wolverine is an icon; he has his own comic-book series, a movie, and his own video game spinoffs. And, he’s been around longer than any of you reading this have.

But…But…But… EDWARD CULLEN?

Wait, let me retype: WHAT ARE THESE PEOPLE THINKING!?!?!?

Well, I’m hoping the results of the Fandango poll does not materialize in real life, but if it does, I have brainstormed a few reasons for He-Who-Does-Not-Shower’s popularity:

1) Men want to be him so they can score the Slutty Nurses that are out prowling the streets.

2) It’s a very economical costume; in these trying times, it’s best to not have to invest much in something one wears for only one day a year. Recipe for success: don’t shower for three days, rub talc all over your body, drink cranberry juice to stain yourl ips, and, for added effect, make sure some juice dribbles down your chin and neck for a more bloody effect. Edward broods and frowns, rarely opening his mouth and choosing instead to communicate only through his ‘intense stares’, so you don’t have to buy those plastic fangs. (Fact: ‘fangs’ appears once in Twilight, and it was in reference to werewolf fangs, not the vampiric ones.)

3) People who are dressed up as him think that he is a MONSTROSITY – not a monster, mind you. Look, the Cullens don’t even deserve to be labeled as vampires. (Lestat is rolling in in imaginary grave somewhere right about now.) The mere existence of Edward Cullen and his family of vegetarian vampires (Lestat, I need you right about NOW) is a monster threatning the sanity of people everywhere.

Anyways, folks, I hope you enjoy your Halloween. I’m probably going to be holed up at home watching the first season of Fringe. I wish I had my friends over for a sleepover, but schedule conflicts mean that I’ll have to throw my horror-movie night later. Oh well, all good things can wait!

Inglourious Basterds, or: This Is How You Do It

Despite the fact that I went to watch Valkyrie and Inglourious Basterds in theaters, I do not like World War II movies. I don’t. What is the point of watching something when you know the end? Hitler dies in a bunker, it is a fact. So when a movie comes up about a group of brave souls plotting against him, I know it’s going to be a tragic drama, which is what Valkyrie turned out to be.

I didn’t like Valkyrie much. Not only did the plot not make sense (or actually, what they were plotting didn’t make much sense), but it was too melodramatic. The only reason I watched it was because at that time, there was nothing else in the theaters.

But for Inglourious Basterds, CC, Ginger, and I practically ran into the theaters. I must admit this was because of Brad Pitt – we are, after all, fangirls at heart.

To my surprise, the movie wasn’t Brad-centric at all. Despite having him on prominent display on the poster and his name, if I remember correctly, listed first, his role isn’t the most interesting. Sure, Brad Pitt’s Aldo “The Apache” Raine was funny, amusing in both his violence, hillbilly accent, and ridiculous attempt at posing as an Italian stuntman, but the stage goes to Christoph Waltz as Hans Landa, the SS leader aka “Jew Hunter”

Waltz was, at once, funny, amusing, cruel, and crazy. Towards the ending, when he says, “That’s just bingo!” (before Aldo the Apache corrects him, “We just say bingo”), Landa was even cute.

My favorite character was Til Schweiger as Hugo Stiglitz, a former Nazi soldier turned the Basterds’ resident psycho killer. He’s quiet, sadistic…but in the tavern scene, we see that he also has a sense of humor.

At two and a half hours, yes, this is a long movie. The fact that it has more talk than action might make it seem even longer. Nevertheless, the dialogue, while not extremely snappy, is meaningful. Every word, every gesture, means something. To me, the dialogue felt like a fuse that was burning…but you didn’t know when the fuse was going to end and the bomb was going to explode.

It’s a war film without a frontline. It’s a war film without hundreds of soldiers in bunkers.

Inglourious Basterds, however, is what a war film should be.

You’d probably have heard this by now, so I’ll just say it: Hitler dies. Tarantino rewrites history completely, and since this is his film, he can. The fact that Hitler dies also makes me love this movie. I knew from the preview there’s going to be a great explosion scene…but I thought that maybe, perhaps, Hitler will have escaped, because he ‘needs’ to die in a bunker. But no…The theater is consumed by fire and two of the Basterds (played by Eli Roth and Omar Doom) are machine-gunning the scrambling Nazis to oblivion. It’s violent, verging on sadistic. But it is, somehow, exhilarating….not because of the screaming dying people…but because the fac that here’s one director who doesn’t give a damn about history and will do what he does.

Quentin Tarantino does it right. Inglourious Basterds is how you do it.

“A Hope In Hell”

The door to the Skytrain opens and I make my way to the other side, leaning against the doorway which will be closed for the rest of the way home. I pull out The Sandman and flip back and forth to find where I was: the beginning of chapter four, “A Hope In Hell.”

After three chapters, I finally got used to the artwork. It’s usually what I call…ugly. I’ve never been a fan of western comics, if only because I think the drawings, simply, suck. Leave shortbread to the Scots and comic books to the Japanese. This is not racism or discrimination. This is the truth.

But, as I said, I got used to the artwork. Plus, the story’s by Neil Gaiman, and that is enough for me to forge on. Morpheus – or the Sandman or the King of Dreams or simply Dream – continues on his quest to find the relics that were taken from him when he was captured seventy years ago.

He’s already found his pouch of magical sand, and now he’s gone to Hell to find his helmet. It’s in the hands of a demon named Choronzon, skinny and lanky with pink skin and two mouths, equally fanged. He refuses to return the helm to Morpheus, saying that he got it in a fair trade. If Morpheus wants it back, says Choronzon, then Morpheus must meet him in a challenge.

Morpheus agrees, and I held my breath as I turned the page. How would the fight be like? Violent? Would it have the flowing fluidity of Japanese comics? What weapon would Morpheus use? A sword? Energy beams? Would he fight fair? 

Oh, but it wasn’t a battle of might. It was a battle of…words. A battle of imagination. They stand on a stage, face-to-face. The demons of hell are their audience.

“I am a dire wolf, prey-stalking, lethal prowler,” Choronzon begins.

“My move,” says Morpheus. “I am a hunter, horse-mounted, wolf stabbing.”

Choronzon’s mouths gape slightly at this, but he continues. “I am a horsefly, horse-stinging, hunter-throwing.”

There are many ways to lose the oldest game, Morpheus reflects.Failure of nerve, hesitation…Being unable to shift into a defensive shape. Lack of imagination. “I am a spider, fly-consuming, eight-legged.”

“I am a snake, spider-devouring, poison-toothed,” Choronzon is snarling now.

Morpheus, however, remains expressionaless. “I am an ox, snake-crushing, heavy footed. I feel the snake writhe beneath my hoof, its spine crushed.”

“I am an anthrax, butcher bacterium, warm-life destroying.”

The Dreamlord pauses, thinks of a new tactic.

Morpheus almost grins when he says, “I am a world, space-floating, life nurturing.”

Lucifer Morningstar, one of the Triumvirates of Hell, looks up from his drink, his eyes sharp, focused, unnerving.

“I am a nova, all-exploding,” Choronzon does not give up. “…Planet-cremating.”

“I am the Universe — all things encompassing, all life embracing.”

I hold my breath. Surely Morpheus must win. Nothing can beat the Universe…nothing.

“I am anti-life, the beast of judgment. I am the dark at the end of everything. The end of universes, gods, worlds…of everything.”

I felt a chill go down my spine. That can beat the Universe. The dark at the end of everything…how is Morpheus going to beat darkness. There is always darkness. Space is darkness. The universe has more darkness than light.

“Sss. And what will you be then, Dreamlord?” Choronzon mocks.

I tensed. Yes, what will he be?

“I am hope.”

Morpheus looks straight ahead, while all the demons of hell, including Choronzon, stare at him, perplexed, confused.

Choronzon blubbers, struggles, opens his mouths and closes the again. “I…don’t know.”

The Dreamlord wins, fair and square.

 

 

Disturbing? Yes. And I still think the artwork is lacking…but I want to read on.

Push, or: More Like A Half-Hearted Poke

If I’d paid 140 baht to see this, I’d probably scream and shout and go all angsty. Fortunately, I rented Push for 20 baht (roughly 40 cents), and so I’m just going to mumble, grumble, and write a note. And truthfully, I didn’t even spend two hours on this. Well, technically it was on for two hours…but I paid attention for around seven minutes. You see, I turned it on while planning my (imaginary?) trip to Barcelona. I had my guidebook out and a notepad and I was furiously scribbling where to go and how long it’d take (by the way, according to my plan, it’d take 10 days, that’s 9 days for Barcelona and 1 for Montserrat.)

Oh, where were we?

Right. Push.

I…don’t know…I just don’t know. The acting was horrible. Camilla Belle can’t really act, and that Flame On! Guy Whose Name I Can’t Remember is also a mediocre actor. Dakota Fanning was, as usual, a great actress, but her lines were so horrible they overshadowed her talent. Djimon Honsou? I love the man but he got the same problem as Dakota Fanning.

There is A LOT to the plot, but that entire lot is rather predictable, so it’s actually safe to say there’s not much to the plot. You see, Camilla Belle plays Kira, is a psychic who can control peoples’ minds. She is the first survivor to a certain drug test by a division of the US government called, quite creatively, The Division. So Kira runs off (quite easily, considering this is a super secretive, state-of-the-art facility and all)…and somehow ends up in Hong Kong.

Ok, fine, I’ll buy Hong Kong. I do realize that China is a really big market and all of Hollywood wants to appeal to the Chinese. Why else would you make Tomb of the Dragon Emperor?

Ahh, but I digress.

In Hong Kong, Dakota Fanning is a 13-year-old girl “who looks at least fourteen” named Cassie. She barges in, literally, into Mr. Flame On!’s apartment (it says something here that I don’t even remember his character’s name.) Cassie’s mom is being held by the Division, and to free her mom Cassie must find Kira and this briefcase she apparently stole. She sees that she would need Flame On!, who has telekinetic powers, to help her. And that’s how we assemble our lead cast. And suffice to say it’s a happy ending for all.

Despite running for two hours, nothing goes on much. There’s not even a car chase scene. What kind of action movie doesn’t have a car chase scene? Look, I’m not particularly enamored of car chase scenes…but it’s like a contractual obligation. I go to watch an action movie…and I know there’s going to be a car chase scene…and I know I’m going to hate it. It’s that simple. Take out the car chase scene and that leaves me really, really confused.

I’d rather have some reaction than no reaction at all.

At one of those few random minutes that I actually looked up at the TV screen, I saw a Thai buddhist monk. And then I paid more attention and saw that the people on the screened looked very Thai….et voila …then there was a building with Thai writing on it and please do not tell me that Hong Kong has a Thai town because it does not.

Anyhoo, the hilarious thing was Mr. Flame On! (as you can see, I am too lazy to google up his name) was walking down that street and then turns into a Chinese restaurant. Yep, from Thailand back to Hong Kong that easily.

Hollywood thinks we’re all interchangeable. Hooray.

So there’s not much. There’s really not much that I can say. It’s not funny, it’s not touching, it doesn’t have a moral or a message (even Rise of  the Silver Surfer attempted to say something about the environment), it doesn’t have a good soundtrack. It doesn’t have anything.

It doesn’t even have proper special effects.

Preferred Alternate Endings to Twilight

1) It ends at the Preface. That is, it ends with the sentence “The hunter smiled in a friendly way as he sauntered forward to kill me.” She dies!

2) It doesn’t even begin. Now that would solve a myriad of problems (mostly chronological and oftentimes grammatical), and save me from nights of headaches.

3) Edward agrees to bite Bella’s neck with the canines-that-must-not-be-named. But then he gets too drunk with her blood and accidentally overdrinks, and she dies.

4) The entire Clan Cullen dies, from Vampire Flu. Bella runs off in the sunset – or, if you prefer, moonrise – with Jacob Black. The last paragraph could be her (or rather, Stephanie Meyer) waxing poetic about how soft his chest hair- or fur, whatever – is.

5) Jacob is hungry and eats her. Because her blood is so delicious.

6) It turns out that Bella’s father is actually also a vampire. This would cause loads more family drama!

7) It turns out that Edward is NOT a vampire, but actually some other type of supernatural being with fan—- ahem, sharp teeth and a glittering chest who is masquerading as a vampire because he knows that girls find vampire sexy.

 

Ok, I have to stop. The more I think about Twilight, the more nauseous I become (this could perhaps have to do with my recent tea biscuits binge, but I’d rather blame Twilight.)

Do you have any alternate endings you want to add? I’m sure they’ll be better than the one currently in print.

A Miracle! A Miracle!

I have fallen in love with Kiehl’s, or at least their products that I’ve used so far. You see, the story is that 2009 brought with it acne on my face. Historically, or at least as far as I can remember, I’ve never had acne on my cheeks. Forehead, perhaps, but never cheeks; plus I never had breakouts, not even during the raging-hormones era; it was always just the occassional pimple.

So imagine my horror when I began 2009 with horrible, horrible skin. I actually went out to buy Origins’ Plantidote Cream (click to read how that turned out)…anyhoo…so I gave up quick-fixing my face for a while and tried to just go back to cleaning well, treating well, and eating well.

So it didn’t get worse. But it didn’t necessarily get better.

For the past few months, however, I’ve heard raves about Kiehl’s. At least five people I know personally have fallen in love with Kiehl’s, so a week ago I figured I had nothing to lose (except money…o__O), waltzed into Kiehl’s, proclaimed to a startled-looking SA that my face is a totally mess and he needs to help me.

He handed me this:

Suffice it to say, a week later, after using Kiehl’s “Acne Blemish Control Daily Skin-clearing Treatment” twice a day (my skin is normal-oily, so I can pull it off. It could be drying on sensitive, dry skin though), there has been a total turnaround. The small bumps that I used to feel on my skin (hidden acne? I have no idea) are gone. Ok, so there are a few dark spots/scars left…but they’re visibly fading. My skin is SMOOTH, for the first time in eight months. There’s discoloration, like I said…but it looks like it’s going to fade away very, VERY soon.

This is worth every baht I paid for it (which is 1600 – that’s not too bad!) It’ s much cheaper than going to the dermatologist, too!

PS. Two days ago I went to buy their Yerba Mate toner and gel-moisturizer. That’s turning out well, too.

PPS. The SA gave me a sample of their Amino Acid shampoo. It smells like coconuts, and therefore, I love it. I love it so much I have decided I will shell out an obscene amount of money to buy it. Yes, ‘obscene’, because I’ve been using Sunsilk my entire life and that has worked out fine…but seriously…Sunsilk does not make coconut-scented shampoo! (Ok, weak argument, but really, when I shop, I throw caution and all logic to the wind.)

According to my ‘bible’, you don’t exist.

To clarify, my bible is The Hitchhiker’s Guide Trilogy* – which would make Douglas Adams my god, but I have a feeling he wouldn’t want to be anyone’s god. He’d just want to be himself – ok, we went off on a tangent there – anyhoo – my ‘bible’ says that you are but a figment of my imagination.

“It is know that there are an infinite number of worlds, simply because there is an infinite amount of space for them. However, not every one of them is inhabited. Therefore, there must be a finite number of inhabited worlds. Any finite number divided by infinity is as near to nothing as makes no odds, so the average population of all the planets in the Universe is also zero, and that any people you may meet from time to time are merely the products of a deranged imagination.”

Try arguing with that.

……….

Hah!

 

*There are five books in this trilogy. I suggest you read them all. If I had to pinpoint a book, an event, and/or a person who changed my life, it would be The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy/the time I stumbled upon it by accident in the library/Douglas Adams.

There is a difference between…

1. Having a unique sense of style, and having absolutely no sense of style whatsoever.
2. Having mussed-up heair and having messed-up hair.
3. Leggings and pants.
4. Being cautious and being paranoid.
5. Being sexy, being trashy, and being generally confused.
6. Friends, and people you’d die for.
7. Being a smart person, and being a Smart Person.
8. Diet and starvation.
9. Vampires, and Clan Cullen.
10. Love and obsession.
11. Starbucks and say, True Coffee.
12. Listening, and simply just waiting for your turn to speak.
13. Being strong, being stubborn, and being, well, a bitch.
14. Knowing what money is worth, and knowing what’s worth the money.
15. Having faith, and being utterly dependent.
16. Fuji and Japanese food.
17. Being cute, and making an idiot out of yourself.
18. Putting in 100%, and putting in whatever it takes to get the job done perfectly.
19. Putting on make up, and caking on make up.
20. Being rich, and being respectable.
21. Having a job, and having a purpose.
22.  Being happy with who you are, and being self-delusional

How offending…..

I don’t facebook-stalk people often. The times I do, it’s probably because the person has suddenly uploaded a crazy/insane/rather interesting profile picture and I’m like “Oooh! Interesting thumbnail..I must see the full-sized version”

Anyhoo…so just five minutes ago one of my Friends had a rather interesting-looking thumbnail so I went to her profile. And from there I was scrolling down to see if any of my other Friends had recently posted something on her wall. Well, none that I know of, but I found this random person who wrote on this person’s wall…twice. And the message, honestly, was just offending.

Here, this is paraphrased (ish) of course, for confidential reasons.

“I’m applying for an office at XXXXXXXX. Does your dad know anyone there?”

Then…a few hours later, by the same person…

“Hahahaha. Just wanted as much help as I can get. Lots of people want in this office. It won’t be easy.”

How…offending. Considering that XXXXXXXXX is also the place I’m going to apply to.

Ok, so I know there’s a lot of connections and things in Thailand, and I’m not against it. I wouldn’t mind using some if REALLY, REALLY, QUITE fuqSOLUTELY NECESSARY. There are, as I have learned, points in time where you really, really have to pull some strings. But this, really. I know XXXXXXXXX, you don’t apply. You take a FRUGGING EXAM to get in. You don’t even need a resume or work experience or anything. You take a set of multiple choice, a few essays…if you pass that you go on an interview (which, if one comes down to it, is a point where you can pull strings) And then voila, you wait for the results.

But any one with HALF A BRAIN who wants to apply to XXXXXXXXXX probably knows that it’s an EXAM designed so you can’t cheat (ID numbers, no names at all) because clearly, there has to be DIGNITY somewhere in the system. And if you don’t even know that it’s an EXAM then FOR THE LOVE OF CHRIST YOU DON’T EVEN CARE ENOUGH AND YOU DON’T DESERVE TO GET TO WORK AT XXXXXXXXXXX, connections or no.

Heck, by even asking someone for HELP before you’ve even started…before you’ve even TRIED…before you even know there’s NO WAY IN means you don’t care. I mean, using connections should be the LAST RESORT. TRY ON YOUR OWN FIRST.

You offend me, Person, even if I don’t know you and you don’t know me and you’re probably never going to read this.

Ps. As Person is not a Friend (thankfully), I can’t view the wall-to-wall post. I don’t know what my friend said, but as this Friend is a sensible person, I can already guess what was said. Yep, that that reply (or what I think it was) doesn’t offend me at all :]