Of Stilettos and CFM Shoes

It is assumed that there is a little Imelda in every woman when it comes to shoes. As much as I hate to admit it, I have repeatedly failed to remove myself from the shoe-addicted pack of she-wolves. I have no defence this time. Watching Sex and the City, definitely, is no help with Carrie Bradshaw unashamedly succumbing to the calls of the Manolos.

Which brings me to the topic of stilettos. Which I try to avoid wearing like the plague! In my thirty-something years, I have yet to come across an objectively and undoubtedly comfortable pair of stilettos. Although I must admit that I have not exerted too much effort on this endeavor, nonetheless I would say that it isn’t like looking for a needle in a haystack. Just visit any lady’s shoe store and most probably than not, it’s selling at least a pair of these dangerous-looking stilettos.

That is the reason why I have two strappy pairs myself, which I have worn not too many times. I know…I’m a lying hypocrital bitch! But my defence this time is that the little Imelda in me made such noise that I couldn’t seem to ignore her. Plus, the shoes were saying “buy me, buy me” like a mantra! I’m only a woman, you know! I can only take so much temptation and taunting.

Going back to the stilettos, I have to admit that it is sexy. No, it’s SEXY. It gives a little more allure to a woman’s ankles and legs. Especially those strappy ones which will go very well with a simple but classic cocktail dress or simply a Victoria’s Secret intimates. It just dawned on me just how true what my bedmate’s best mate once said about how in porn movies the girls would strip to nothing and leave on their 4 inch stilettos while you know what. Ha!

Which brings me to another kind of stilettos – the CFM shoes. Or the COME FUCK ME shoes if you need to spell it out. I just came to know about these not too long ago when I had the pleasure of reuniting with my ex-colleagues from my ex-firm who are all in their mid-twenties. You know, that particular age when I realized that I didn’t learn all that I needed to learn in kindergarten. Anyway, this girl was actually asking me whether she should buy SK-II beauty products or this CFM pair of shoes which costs around three hundred bucks. I thought CFM was a new high end shoe brand. When I finally found out that it was not and what it was, I almost chocked on the fried tofu that I was devouring. It was, shall I say, a turning point in my life. A time when the realization that I was going in the direction opposite cougar town had finally hit me. There I was, in the middle of Makansuntra, gobbling hawker food with twenty-something friends, pretending to be “cool” and “hip”. Do they even use these words these days I have no freaking idea! And I didn’t know anything about these damn CFM shoes!

But the CFM shoes…if the stilettos are SEXY, the CFM shoes are…WTF!!! I do not know if the merchandise itself is more appealing or whether it was more appealing because of the name it was given and of course the connotation it directly suggests. Whatever it is, it screams S-E-X! Whatever it is, it makes my stilettos look like Julie Andrews standing next to Megan Fox! It’s almost illegal and immoral all at the same time! It’s like having a bedmate and maintaining a fubu (short for fuck buddy for those who are unaware) at the same time. It’s the work of the Devil himself! And all the Eves of this kingdom are covetous of a pair of this modern poisonous apple! This blogger included!

Pain and Suffering

It’s an item under general damages in insurance law. Everyday I come across pain and suffering. I have come to a point when I stopped cringing at every possible kind of injury a human body can sustain. In fact, it came to a point when I read about them and not associate them with pain or suffering anymore. I had become mentally numb.

Little did I know that I would soon get a taste of pain and suffering – that kind that no amount of medical attention can remedy, that kind that the passing of time cannot seem to heal. Tragic. So much like life.

If only…

If only I can stop feeling. If only my spirit can turn a blind eye and a deaf ear to this unnamed force that is calling me to forget about reason, to forget about truth, to forget about justice. If only my spirit has enough strength to fight this consuming pain that engulfs my soul. If only for a second I can stop this madness and everything stands still so I can grieve without anyone knowing and seeing, without anyone hearing the sound of my tears dropping on my chest that house my shattered heart. If only I can hide the sound of my heart breaking so that others cannot mock me. Because you see, the world can be so cruel. Family and friends alike. This world seem to have no place for souls and hearts like mine. No solicitor to quantify the damages due me.

Tragic, isn’t it?

Free Time

Quite obvious. I got tired of fiddling with my Facebook account, watching old episodes of "Anthony Bourdain: No Reservations", and basically waiting every f****ing two hours to light a cigarette.

I am officially bored.

It's only now that I am having regrets about resigning from my not-that-bad-paying job and deciding to take a break. I mean, what the hell was I thinking? It's a f****ing recession and I voluntarily quit my job. I guess it only proves that I'm just a smart mouth and not that intellectually sharp.

The upside I guess is that I had the luxury of time to learn new things. Like making a blow-your-mind beef stir fry and some tofu dishes which, under normal circumstances, I wouldn't have the time to indulge myself in. No, I'm not a vegan, not trying to be and never will. I just found that I could actually eat non-meat products out of boredom and curiosity. See, something good came about from being unemployed for two weeks now. Thanks to Kylie Kwong.

Three more hours and I will be meeting some friends for dinner. It's our friend Ana's birthday today. We are having japanese tonight. A good breather from the usual chinese and italian food that i prepare every day. I need to eat something raw for a change!

Anthony Bourdain. Hmmmm...fingers tapping on the table. Interesting fellow. It's good to know that there's another bad-ass chef other than that Hell's Kitchen insane mentor-chef! The good thing about Bourdain is that he's a fan of the Ramones and that he's got tatoos! One by Chris Garver even. Wild! Now I can reconcile my love for Miami Ink with my love for travel shows. Cool.

Maybe tomorrow I wouldn't be too lazy to go to the bookshop and buy a Bourdain book. It's either that or I would be sleeping the whole day tomorrow from too much drinking which I will be doing tonight. Hell, I have all the time...I even have time to write this freakin' blog.

Epitaph

And so he said: it’s better to burn out
Than to fade away, the drive gone,
The passion dead, cannot find
The light, the writing on the wall
Like stains of blood of the doggone days.
Carry on, and I plunge into deep, perpetual
Slumber, and dream of things that must
Have been, of songs I might have sung.
Dream, and I look at history with
Wretched, bitter tears of scorn and
Guilt.

Pain and disgust withered away, thrown to
The dungeon where terror eats the downtrodden’s
Flesh, and hate drinks the blood of hope.
Open your eyes, see misery
Flowing through the swollen veins
Of Lucifer’s slave; uncover your ears
Hear the wailing sound of lust ablaze in the
Fires of hell.
Now, I leave this inferno, where man
Eats his own kind, and step into space
Where time is bound to eternity of peace.

April 1994
In memoriam Kurt Cobain

The Invisible Man

Reviving old friendships is always a good experience. Lately, I have been “chatting” with a very close college friend, and even though we have not seen each other for almost a decade now, it seems like it was just yesterday when we used to hang out at our “tambayan” at the tibak territory in UP. I can vividly remember those lazy afternoons spent discussing politics, if not about anything else under the sun like why does a mosquito bite swell.

Of course, there were good days and there were bad days. But just being with the “tropa” was enough to get me out of my stump. In our own demented ways, we were able to keep each other sane. All of us in the group at that time were of the same wavelength. We were all idealistic and assertive of our principles. We were critical, both in a bad and a good way. We were to save this beloved nation from further rape by our so-called leaders.

Sad to say, I outgrew my idealism and eventually became a corporate sell-out. I am now officially capitalism’s puppet that cannot seem to survive without having a taste of Starbucks every now and then. Too bad for me, now that I think about it.

Fortunately though, my “tropa” has kept the flames of idealism alive. In all honesty, I greatly envy them and more deeply admire them. I admire them because they are selfless, they are honest, and they are passionate and compassionate. The list can go on and on. But I wonder why my friend’s status in YM is always invisible (hehehe). Surely a good guy like him deserves recognition. And then I realized, maybe he’s invisible because he represents the cause of the invisible marginalized of this country. But then again, maybe he’s invisible because he’s just hiding from somebody. Whatever the reason is, profound or otherwise, I take my hat off to him and the few who is with him in his cause. Kudos to you, Invisible Man!

Pasma

Yung boss naming Amerikana sobrang kwela. Cool na cool. Sobrang feel nya ang mga Pinoy. Nung nag team building kami, lahat kami american breakfast, pero si bossing, ang classic na tapsilog ang inalmusal. Pero kahit gaano siya ka cool, medyo iwas kami sa kanya. Lalo na at ito'y madaldal. Kaya walang gustong mag open ng conversation with her kasi mapapasabak ka se mega todong kwentuhan. Mula sa trabaho hanggang sa kung bakit ang anak niya ay isang klaseng t-shirt lang ang sinusuot. Minsan, masaya kaming mga pinoy na nagkwekwentuhan tungkol sa kung anik-anik nang biglang dumaan si bossing. E naabutan niyang pinaguusapan namin ay tungkol sa pasma. You know...the thing you get when you wet your eyes after reading, or you wash your feet after running...the "pasma". Anyways, dumugo na mga ilong namin sa kakahanap ng English transalation ng "pasma". Meron bang suggestions dyan?