GIGI GOES GAGA

AS MY NOSE GENTLY BLEEDS

I heard that John Legend's going to be kicking off his Spring North American tour out here in Irvine on April 3rd. Of course by the time I remembered to buy tickets, it was a full 24 hours after they were released to the public. Which means I'll be sitting as far back as physically possible -- not only will I be watching in the last seats of the last row, it looks like I'll be huddled up in a corner as well.

I could have gotten better seats, I suppose, but I would have had to pay at least four times what they are actually worth. There are all these companies (not to mention folks on eBay and the like) who manage to buy tickets the moment they're available and then turn around and sell them for much, much more. But I'm not playing that game, I've decided -- so I purchased my tickets directly and therefore have the crappiest seats available that night.

Fortunately I'm there to listen to Legend, not watch him juggle or strip or breakdance. (Still, I think he's a bit of a cutie and I wouldn't mind seeing him a bit closer up.) All I'm saying is that the Bren Events Center's sound system had better be phenomenal, that's all. Because otherwise I'm going to be tossing my soda cups at all the people in the good seats, the ones who didn't pay actual ticket prices, for keeping this rip-off practice thriving.

What I'm really hoping for is that the folks seated near me are real fans as well, and don't ruin things by chatting away as the man performs. Otherwise there's going to be lots of blood spilled -- and, no, it won't be mine, or a result of my being perched in nosebleed seats either.

Don't think I'm making idle threats here: my friends once had to restrain me from attacking a group of sorority girls with a pen. See, Steely Dan had just gotten back together and this was a can't-miss concert, one we'd anticipated and planned for so long. But the girls, who were seated right behind us, seemed to be oblivious to the weight of the occasion and wouldn't stop gossiping and laughing loudly. Any music fan would have understood my resorting to violence to stop the madness -- especially anyone who's ever been ticked off and also stoned from second-hand smoke (it was like someone set fire to a marijuana plantation over there that night). I'm hoping that this time, I'll be high from the music and nothing else. And, yeah, for sure I'll also be high, high up in the sky as well. Literally.

CHAIN OF FOOLS

I get lots of chain letters, almost daily in fact. Who doesn't? Oftentimes I have to delete the damn thing before I'm tempted to reply to the sender, "Are you out of your freakin' mind? Just because your friend sent this doesn't mean it's true!"

You know which ones I'm talking about. The ones that promise money or gift certificates from the owner of the Gap or Victoria's Secret (a quick google look-up, by the way, will show that a man named "Les" -- and not a woman named "Victoria"-- controls the lingerie chain) if you send the email to as many people as you know. Or the hateful ones that just won't die -- for instance, that the apparel giant designer Tommy Hilfiger supposedly won't sell to African-Americans or that radio DJ Art Bell discriminates against Filipinos. People should really spend a few extra seconds thinking before passing on damaging information like this. Or better yet, click on sites that discuss internet hoaxes and urban legends. You can also bookmark this site for a list of links that can help you figure out if you're merely being duped before you waste someone else's time.

Recently a friend sent me a chain letter asking for money to help out a dying little girl (I can't remember where she was from, but suspect it was from an impoverished nation). Predictably, the last paragraph begged the reader to send assistance and pass along the email to as many people as possible. But then it threatened that if one did otherwise, "what goes around comes around." A couple of minutes later, one of the recipients on the distribution list -- my friend's cousin -- replied to all, "How can I help?" Sweet thing, but I had to sit on my hands so I wouldn't type back: "Don't pass this on, that's what!" I mean really, who begs for assistance and threatens retribution in the same sentence? Someone not worth helping, at least in my book.

My friends especially like to send me chain letters of a religious nature, even if they know that I'm agnostic (or perhaps that's why they choose to send these to me -- they're hoping I'll find the proof I'm looking for contained within the email's lines). I prefer to believe they do this out of genuine love and affection for me, so I simply delete these without replying back and allow them to bask in the glow of having done something good. But when a letter tries to intimidate me by saying that unless I pass it on and thereby break the chain, then something bad will happen to me, I start to wonder about the friend who sent it in the first place.

I begin to wonder if the friend routinely forwards email messages without reading them carefully. If she always does what she is told to do. If he has faith or is simply superstitious. Or if he really thinks Jesus or the Virgin Mary will smite him if he doesn't pass on a stupid letter one bored person decided to write one day to see how far it would or could go. And then of course I wonder if my friend is simply stupid for believing his entire fate or future depends on a click of a key.

Although I have to admit that in one particular case, my life changed because of a chain letter I received. It was from a friend who was passing on that infamous Tommy Hilfiger hoax to all her friends and relatives, enjoining all of us to boycott the brand. Although I've never bought anything from the line -- not because of the rumors but simply because I've just never liked any of his stuff enough to pay for it -- I sent a reply to "All" explaining how this story was not the least bit true and included links to credible news items disproving the contents of the email.

Someone then replied back to me. I married him two years later.

THREE-MONTH CHALLENGE

I'm sick of getting sick. So I'm finally going to do something about it.

You would think that with all the access I have to information regarding healthy living -- the importance of proper nutrition, regular exercise, and adequate sleep -- I'd be a paragon of fitness and well-being by now. Oh -- and have I ever mentioned that I've worked in the fitness industry for the last five years? No, of course not.

I'm a bit of a rebel -- a quality which has not served me well in life, I'm afraid. I don't like to be told what to do and when to do it, and I especially don't like to be reminded of what's supposed to be good for me. The only thing that saves me time and time again is that I like to keep myself informed. I also think constantly and often, so eventually something deep inside of me kicks in -- and kicks me into gear. I suppose you can say I'm stubborn but not stupid.

But I haven't been making smart choices for way too long and my body has been protesting loudly and wildly at least for the past few months. My brain's also been whispering nonstop that I need a change of lifestyle and I've finally decided to pay attention. Recently I've been more mindful of what I eat (and don't eat), I've been sleeping a bit earlier at night, and have set for myself some simple goals. Like: get to the gym. Right now I don't even think of what I'm going to do once I get there -- my goal is just to get there.

And tonight I signed up for the Self Challenge 2007. It's basically a three-month plan for getting fit and is focused on helping one adopt and maintain sensible lifestyle changes. Does anyone out there care to join me? The kickoff is on February 26, just six days from now, and I'm ready. (I think. No, I am. Really.)

Of course, I usually keep things like this on the down-low so no one starts bugging me about how my new diet and exercise plan is coming along. So please don't say anything if I choose to watch a Man Vs. Wild marathon on a lovely, sunny Saturday afternoon instead of going hiking up some mountain or kayaking down a river (I'd have to figure out first where the nearest mountain and river are located around here anyway) -- my heart will be pumping plenty at the sight of my man doing both, don't you worry. And I promise I won't be posting charts and progress reports here either. Wish me luck, you all. I'll need all the help I can get.

RAMBLINGS OF A HUNGRY GIRL

The Good News: I took a couple days off from work this past week so I could recharge my batteries.
The Bad News: Husband caught the stomach flu so we couldn't get away for the weekend.
Good: We got to spend time a lot of time together anyway since I couldn't leave the poor, sick man alone.
Bad: So I caught the bug from him and spent my vacation at home, writhing in pain and practically living in the bathroom.
Good: I've barely eaten all week and thus have lost weight.
Bad: Am so bloated from all the gas and other yucky stuff inside my system that you can't tell I'm thinner anyway.

I'm so hungry right now (although I can't really tell if the rumbling in my stomach is from hunger pangs or from the virus banging at my insides). And because the Universe is in a sadistic mood this week, I've been surrounded by food. REALLY good food, too -- like barbeque chicken and ribs (with beans and cornbread) and prime rib and garlic mashed potatoes and carnitas wrapped in warm, fresh tortillas and this morning I even had to say a tearful "no" when I was offered a McDonald's Egg McMuffin (which I consider a treat and enjoy only a couple of times a year).

Of course, my husband's all recovered now and has been eating anything he fancies. He's even off to a family dinner tomorrow while I stay home -- alone -- and feast on gruel and water. No worries -- I'm visualizing myself in a smaller dress size. In a dress he's going to have to buy for me to make up for giving me this pesky bug, no doubt.

MY PERSONAL '80s

I read Dean Alfar's post about the best and worst '80s music and took a look at my own '80s iTunes playlist to see if I could narrow it down to my Top 10 favorites. I couldn't. So I hit "shuffle" and chose the first ten that came up. And this is how this playlist came to be.

1. Only When You Leave - Spandau Ballet
2. Time (Clock of the Heart) - Culture Club
3. Vienna Calling - Falco
4. World Destruction - Africa Bambaataa
5. The Ghost in You - The Psychedelic Furs
6. Girl in Trouble (is a Temporary Thing) - Romeo Void
7. Exposed to Love - Expose
8. I'm For Real - Howard Hewett
9. Human - Human League
10. Never Knew Love Like This - Cherelle/Alexander O'Neal

Track Notes:

1. I can't help but think of W every time this song comes on. He'd probably never admit it today, but he used to like this album -- which he played for me as we drove around the Ateneo campus one afternoon, shortly before I left for the States.

2. I am NOT a Culture Club fan -- only two songs of theirs don't annoy me (and this is one of them). But this one has a specific memory tied to it: I had just gotten here and was walking around Westwood Village playing tourist, and this souvenir tee-shirt store (which is still there, I think) was blasting this song right at the moment when I was finally no longer feeling sad but rather excited and happy to be here. This line might have had something to do with it: "This could be the best place yet. But you must overcome your fears."

3. This was a K-ROQ staple when I first got here and was one of my favorites. So when J and I fought over a boy and didn't speak for six months and she heard this song on the radio, she thought of me and finally gave me a call. We never fought over any boy again.

4. This song reminds me of the boy we fought over. The first party we hung out together, I discovered he also liked this song and realized we were somewhat alike. Cynical and with a warped sense of humor.

5. I dated this punk rocker dude briefly and was quite surprised he liked this song. Then he cried when I told him I didn't love him and realized he had a soft side after all.

6. Heard this stanza and thought the song was about me:
There’s a time when every girl learns, to use her head
Tears will be saved till they’re better spent
There’s no time for her to be afraid
So instead, she takes care of business
Keeps a cool head

7. This will always remind me of going out all night clubbing with my Filipino friends. Always. (Shoutout to Bughaw: does this song do the same for you?)

8. He said all these things to me. Whatever.

9. Ugh. Reminds me of one nasty break-up that came out of nowhere.

10. A late '80s song that always brings me back to days of infatuation, of the way I used to once fall in love.

Click here to listen.

BULLETPROOF VEST FIRES AWAY

I'm a Bulletproof Vest fan. I can't help it. Whether Benito is asking fellow bloggers his famous 10 (trick) questions or sharing interesting finds or fighting with homophobes in the blogosphere, he always makes my visits to his site worthwhile.

So when he asked me last night if I cared to answer a few questions, my first thought was "hell no, I'm afraid of you!" The next was, "But this is going to be so much fun, so I think I will." See, the guy has this gift of getting people to say things they probably shouldn't be stating in print (like I just did -- he's that good, it's scary). I'll also admit this much: I consider myself a sharp cookie, but often when I read his interviews, I realize I have absolutely no answer (intelligent or otherwise) for at least one of his questions. Good thing he usually talks to people much smarter than me, eh? Definitely makes for compelling reading -- even if you only pore over the sentences before the question mark.

Benito, just for the record, was kind and gentle so perhaps that explains how I found myself asking him out on a date (and a makeout session, at that!). He didn't say yes, by the way.

PS: Someone please explain to me the "iced tea" reference he starts his post out with. (Although I bet it's a line from a TV show I watch and it zoomed by me. But not him apparently.)

CHASTITY FOR CLOTHES?

My friend Charmaine alerted me to this Reuters news item tonight:

NEW YORK, Feb 5 (Reuters Life!) - For most women, the choice between sex and a new wardrobe is simple -- they go for the clothes.

Women on average say they would be willing to give up sex for 15 months for a closet full of new apparel, with 2 percent ready to abstain from sex for three years in exchange for new duds, according to a new survey of about 1,000 women in 10 U.S. cities.

Sixty-one percent of women polled said it would be worse to lose their favorite article of clothing than give up sex for a month.

So Charmaine asked me if I would give up sex for new clothes. No, I quickly answered, but not for the obvious reasons, what most people who know me well would expect me to say.

"I already have a lot of clothes. If I got a closetful more then I'd have to figure out what to do with the ones I already have. Like, where would I store them? Or would I give them away to charity, sell them on eBay? Ay, hassle pa!"

But I've got to admit, this survey discusses valid points I hadn't considered before.

"Some people say clothes make the man, but the right clothes can even replace him," fashion designer, stylist and TV personality Carson Kressley from the reality TV show "Queer Eye for the Straight Guy" said in a statement accompanying the poll.

The study also suggested that clothes often wear better than relationships.

The average woman between 18 and 54 years of age has hung on to her favorite article of clothing for 12 and a half years, a year longer than she's held on to her longest relationship.

Almost three-quarters of respondents, or 70 percent, also said they believed in love at first sight when it came to finding the perfect article of clothing, while only 54 percent of women were as confident in spotting the right man.

Nearly half of the women, or 48 percent, taking part in the survey by consumer products giant Unilever said their favorite article of clothing was more reliable than their man in giving them confidence and making them feel sexy.

Okay -- so just for the record, I happen to think sex is one of life's greatest pleasures. Which certainly explains why any suggestion that I give it up can make me turn grouchy in a heartbeat. But ask me if I'd give it up for good hair.

No -- on second thought -- don't.

MIDLIFE MANIA

I'm beginning to suspect men go through their mid-life crises sooner than women do. I haven't read any studies or seen any statistics proving my theory, but sometimes I just know the things I do (like I know, for instance, that people's libidos tend to go haywire in the month of October).

A friend of mine recently turned 40 and got a divorce. Now he's going to bars with women who only recently became legally allowed to drink; in fact, one of the girls he's trying to make his move on is only three years older than his daughter. I find myself hoping the next time I see him won't be on television, where he'll be standing right next to Dateline's Chris Hansen, staring straight into the lens of a hidden camera.

Now the other night I was chatting with another old (oops, wrong choice of word, perhaps?) friend, who was complaining about how one day he woke up and felt his mortality. I don't think he has any serious health concerns (except for a nasty smoking habit he never got rid of), so I think he was merely feeling his age (which is 45). I suppose if I ever woke up and realized I was 45 years old I might be slightly alarmed, but I'd like to think that if I were still in good health and in good shape by then I'd pat myself on the back for a job well done and slather on a bit more eye cream than usual.

So my friend -- just like that other friend of mine -- has been finding himself more and more drawn to younger women. And I don't mean women in their late '30s or early '40s, we're talking about young, nubile things who still own the right to wear a miniskirt. Luckily for him many of these leggy creatures seem to be attracted to older, successful men -- which he happens to be -- so he hasn't exactly been scaring away the ladies. But when he describes himself as a "dirty old man," I don't disagree with him. After all, I still vividly remember when men twice my age would hit on me (those days are, thankfully, over because the only thing a man twice my age could hit me with now is his walking cane), I'd cringe and call them pathetic and gross.

He then explained to me that being with a younger woman is like a shot of youth serum in the arm. Then he asked me if I didn't ever fantasize about having sex with a strapping 19-year-old man.

COVER ME PART II

Many of you emailed to let me know you liked the playlist of cover versions I posted last month so I put together another one. Just more of the same -- R&B/Soul versions of classic songs you can sing along to. I suppose that, since they're all love songs, this is one for Valentine's Day as well. (For this reason I didn't include Nouvelle Vague's remake of Dead Kennedys' "Too Drunk To F**k" -- oh well, for another day, I guess.)

Click here to download and listen.

Hello It's Me - Groove Theory
(Sweetest) Tabou - Les Nubians
Lovin' You - Shanice
Could It Be I'm Falling In Love - S-Connection
Free/Sail On - Chanté Moore
If I Ever Lose This Heaven - Will Downing
Your Love Is King - Will Young
Until You Come Back To Me - Hil St. Soul
If This World Were Mine - Grenique & Tony Rich
Wishing On A Star - Maysa