Nugatory ramblings

Nothing new at all. My dog pissed on my bed. Again. What in the seven hells is going on with Cenko? I don't know what it is he can smell on my goddamn bed. I mean, it's not majestically nice and comfy; it's old, a tad smelly, lumpy and heavy. Sure, he was born in my bed when Chewy had decidedly gone into labour surrounded by my pillows. Throwing a tantrum was my specialty but mom was adamant back then that it would be difficult to transfer the dog so with the authority of primogeniture I ousted my sister's right on her bed atop mine and slept on it. That's the often situation for the past days whenever I had to vacate my bed because of dog piss. Anyway the sun obviously has not been shining throughout the archipelago for several days and it's making me barmy. I have yet to grill my bed under the smouldering heat so with a pathetic sense of scientific eureka, I turned my octogenarian laptop on and had it simmered atop the piss spot with the hard drive's heat eventually drying the wetness. Poor replacement for the sun's natural heat, I know, but it's the best alternative I can think of so there.

Before the internet went down I was able to check my email and saw that I was called up for an interview in a call center cum english online tutorial center for Monday in Ortigas. I'm not sure if I'm going to show up but I might as well since it has been a week and despite continuous online applications, job opportunities are still dried up. It's going to be a double purpose too since I have to buy a baptism gift for Ate Gigi and Kuya Ferdi's son for next Saturday's party. Richard and I agreed to share a gift with his ingenious nicking of a French kiddie book partnered with a For Babies CD. Banters thrown about, we could also choose Kris Aquino and her son's We Are One collection. Richard and I won't probably be invited to the reception if ever. Imagine having a Buddhist for a godmother. Come to think of it, I am a godmother to 4 baby boys, Ate Gigi's son accounted for; is it fate giving me the golden finger that I shall only guide snivelling prats into adulthood? Perhaps, seeing as I'd rather join a rough and tumble episode with those kids at any rate than play dollhouse.

Mysteriously or not, Stevenson's Kidnapped is, well, kidnapped. It has been missing for several days already and it's not as if our house is a piano nobile to be unable to find it. I'm just practising my right to indolence. That declared, I've decided to read John Berendt's The City of Falling Angels. Review or what decent prose I can justify about the book shall be published after I'm done with it. It won't be long enough I assure you, I started reading seriously just this afternoon and I'm already halfway through. Considering my very active book reading libido, I shall say that I am proud of myself for eating half of the book in a short period of time. Back then in college, I can finish even a thick book in one sitting, nonetheless it's futile to stack what-ifs.

With the lack of internet, I've decided to explore Ubuntu out of ennui. It has been my running OS for several months already and this would be the first time that I have to sniff around for something exciting since if you know me personally, even the most trivial of novelties can make me happy. Anyway, all I ever did was customize the appearance of my overall theme using black and add and edit some widgets on my panel. I have to say though that the Fish widget is the ace of them all; pointless accessoire without a doubt from its About tab to the simple animation; clicking on Wanda, the animated swimming fish, would present you with a fortune cookie surprise from bad puns to quotable quotes. It's lovely, you can change the animation from a goat to a monkey or even a clock but I prefer the original Wanda the Fish. I would've named her Horace but her eyelashes are too feminine looking to be renamed as a male.