Internet Sausage Links

I’m always fascinated by words and phrases, their origins, and how they come to be used. Take for example “Longbottoming,” colloquial slang for the unexpected transition from dweeby to sexy. I’ve since learned that this is also known as a “glow up.”

While “Longbottoming” is obvious (it’s inspired by the actor who played Neville Longbottom in the Harry Potter movieverse, who started out as the fat loser kid with an overbite and ended up looking mighty foine), the closest I can come to why “glow up” is used the way it is, is because it’s a variation on the phrase “to grow up,” only in this case it’s used to mean growing up pretty. Yay, I guess, but ultimately boring. There’s not much of a backstory there, although why I’m going on about a phrase that’s been dominating the interwebs again since Robin Arryn made such a splash on GoT’s finale at four in the morning, I have no clue.

Oh wait, yes, I do. Seth Rogen is on the cover of GQ, which really goes to prove that the first step towards ultimate attractiveness is to lose weight, which is easier said than done, God knows I say it to myself a lot, but this isn’t about me. So here you go, Seth Rogen being his new dapper, healthier self in silk shirts and expensive ashtrays – GQ

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Most Filipinos come with an ingrained instinct for behaving properly in public. This is known as delicadeza, a word which generally means to do what is appropriate at all times. Like the German “schadenfreude,” delicadeza is not so much an action as it is a  feeling. It’s the intrinsic drive to behave the right way and do the right thing in public, because we cannot bring dishonour to our houses by seeming uneducated, ill-mannered and rude. Maybe it’s the three hundred plus years of being treated like illiterate, uncivilized second-class citizens in our own country by colonizers that fuels this particular drive. Whatever the subconscious triggers behind delicadeza, it’s what makes Filipinos the perfect hosts and house guests. You will never hear us act up, or leave dirty dishes in the sink, or be rude to our hosts. Not to their faces, anyway. We will always try to behave as if our very mothers are watching us with eagle eyes. 

Which is why one of the worst things that a guest can do to Filipinos is to disrespect our hospitality by being rude. Cleaning up after yourself is a basic tenet of delicadeza, and Canada has shown none when it comes to having the Philippines play host to its garbage for nigh on five years.

No country should ever be the unwilling dumping ground for another country’s waste, and my adopted homeland definitely has a lot to answer for when it comes to how it’s treated my actual homeland. Yes, the Philippines has the right to demand Canada clean up after itself, and do it soon. Canada should’ve recalled the garbage postehaste, not spend five years twiddling its thumbs, and it’s dismissive ideas like the ones this Canadian writer comes up with that really make me furious, not to mention the discernibly flippant attitude with which it was written. Instead of focusing on Canada’s inability to clean up after itself, he can’t resist taking jabs at the Philippine administration’s posturing, as if the dumpster fire that is Ontario’s current leadership is anything to be proud of. Filipinos have a great sense of humour, but we know when a joke is as rancid as five-year old garbage currently waiting to be repatriated. Alternative idea: how about we ship all those garbage containers back to Canada and deposit them on this guy’s front yard? – Toronto Sun

PS: There’s nothing “partly” about Canada being to blame for this literal garbage dump of a situation  – CBC

PPS: Now Malaysia is in on it too – Earther

 

 

Dioramas

Dioramas

Dear Elly G,

Word of the day: diorama. I am seriously pissed off that I never got the chance to take a picture of the Sinulog diorama they had outside Robinson’s Department Store. I want to kick myself. That display was something that will go down in the annals of our history of ridiculousness.

It was a display of superheroes: Batman, Superman, Wonder Woman, Green Lantern, etc. (it was a League of Justice thing) and it wasn’t just a painting. It was a real mock-up of superheroes doing their thing. Superman was flying and shit.

In the middle of it all stood Sr. Sto. Niño holding up that scepter and wooden ball with a cross on it, because the “greatest superhero” is still Sto. Niño. The first time I saw that mess, I nearly choked. What a classic what-in-the-mother-effing-eff moment. People here are insane.

Just thought I’d share. Wish you’d seen it. So sorry I didn’t get it for posterity – I was just too busy staying away from the crazy crowd. I wish I hadn’t.

Regretfully,
Nikka
1/31/08

Proud and Prejudiced

Proud and Prejudiced

The Germans have a word for that unique sort of unseemly glee we’ve all experienced at seeing someone fall flat on their face. It’s called schadenfreude, and it’s been in the air since the results of the Bar Exams were released. While the provincial side dances around joyously to the Cece Peniston remix of Finally, the “Imperial Manila” side is going “meh, fluke, provinces are dumb,” and the rest of us who haven’t completely lost our minds are sitting courtside with bags of popcorn, cheering as flamethrowers are lit. Welcome to the Thunderdome. Continue reading “Proud and Prejudiced”

Addicted to Life

Death as a concept was introduced by a slightly batty friend of my parents who had been asked to babysit. I don’t remember all the details, I just remember her earnest explanation of war and how everyone was eventually going to kick the bucket. I wasn’t ready. (I’m still not ready.) My parents came home to a five-year-old wailing her head off. I don’t want you to die! They never asked her to babysit again.

Realizing no one lives forever was my version of being told Santa Claus wasn’t real. Now that I knew life was finite, I dedicated the rest of my life to finding ways to prolong my time on earth without adding unnecessary risks.  Ha! I wish. I don’t smoke and I drink very little, but my true vices are sugar and salt. Both of these are just as likely to steer me on my way to kingdom come while a dozen nutritionists look on in horror, but what a way to go, eh?

Two weeks ago, Siquijor went from a quiet, untouched paradise to a scary, dangerous place. Two promising young women were cut down in the prime of their lives, all because a crazy bloke was running around tripping balls, leaving devastation in his wake. It hit very close to home, because this is the sort of thing that is only supposed to occur in a gritty metropolis, not a magical, carefree island like Siquijor. Most of the time we shrug off these scenarios, believing they will never happen to us or anyone we know.  Then tragedy strikes and it suddenly feels like we’re all just waiting for a piano to fall on our heads.

Continue reading “Addicted to Life”

The Pangkabuhayan Package Tour

I finally got around to cobbling together the evidence of the jaunt Le Hubs and I took to see my family last January. I know, I know. I put the late in #latepost.