The pounds are piling on and the food is overflowing. So much for running for fitness. I can tell I will be the most un-fit of all the class again when January rolls around. Whee.
Yesterday, my family decided to go on a major pig-out fest at Spiral at Hotel Philippine Plaza. Again, I don't do well with buffets. I know it'll be a buffet and yet I can never seem to control myself.
I paced myself. I really did. I didn't order drinks (I stuck to water), I wore my loosest pants, I only put the things I really wanted to eat (which was sad to say, A LOT, considering the wonderful spread). And still, I ended up feeling really really really stuffed.
My pants were still loose, and yet I couldn't breathe. Tita Lilet was already putting pressure on the points of my body that would relieve me of the nausea I was feeling. From something enjoyable, I wasn't feeling very happy.
On the way home, I was plugged to my iPod and trying hard to breathe normally, when I thought I heard my phone ring. My monotone ringtone (Suntok sa Buwan, for the curious) sounded and the lights were blinking. It was good I actually heard my phone ringing considering I was blasting my ears with music (not good). I was grumpy and very full. But hello?!? Phone calls are love (especially if it's NOT for school).
I pick up my phone (1 freaking battery left!) and I see the name gian magdangal flashing. I'm serious. I'm dead serious. And though I have no pictures to back up my claim, y'all have to trust me and get a verification from my 7 other family members plus tita when I totally got nervous and told them, "Gian Magdangal is calling me."
Nervousness does not begin to describe how I felt. I was half hoping that my phone would not DIE ON ME, like it ALWAYS does and half hoping I would utter something normal.
Let's just say only half of my hoping came true: my phone stayed alive for that 2:48 phone call. My side of the conversation wasn't as normal though. Apparently, from eyewitness accounts of family members, I said "THIS IS SURREAL" TWICE. How abnormal can I get?
So the conversation is a little blurry to me now (NOT), but thanks to my pre-historic phone, I was not able to record it. Stupid. I had enough wits to record a phone conversation with some high school crush, but this one, I was too dim-witted to do anything.
I was as shocked as anyone that Gian was even calling me, thus the repeat utterance of This is surreal. Why was he calling me? Did I really want a reason for being called? Not really, but it did make me curious. So after saying hello (Gian actually said, "It's Gian." like I wasn't nervous enough) he asked how I was doing and things like that and I actually ask why he was calling?!? What an idiotic remark?! I'm obviously not meant to work at a call-center as I am very bad on the phone.
Gian goes on to explain that he was surfing the internet and he chance upon my blog. Can I hear an
So having Gian say he read what I had written (and a lot of it was about him) which includes words like orgasmic and phrases like let's make a family, it's not exactly recommended that the subject of all these works, actually READS those things.
So I die inside and I'm once again rambling on the phone to the subject of all these blog entries, mortified with what I had published for all the world to see (I never thought he'd be part of that world though). So he tells me he read everything and even those that weren't about Idol (he mentioned something about koreanovelas -- at least he knows that my life does include something else other than Idol). Yet, deep inside I was just really mortified.
Of course he said the standard, it was great thing. But I wouldn't really expect him to bash my entries, considering they were in his favor. Then he talked about writing for a magazine and all that jazz and still the only thing running through my mind was "HOLY SHIT HE READ IT" Now, I know I'm already a rabid fan. And i'm sure he knows that (hello? how many non-family members watch a majority of your shows and shout way too loud and become way too rowdy when you're performing right?) but see, I wasn't alone. There were other rabid fans at mall shows, performance nights, and at Araneta.
But blogging about every single Idol experience? Every single one? In great detail, down the flickering of sweat and hip thrusting? How many fans can say they've documented every experience only to have the object of all this affection actually read it? And have them call you up to tell you about it? Not a lot.
After the embarrassment had finally climaxed and I was coming down from my shock, I heard something along the lines of inviting me and Pamy for the get-together in thanksgiving for the entire Idol thingamajig. I probably said yes because the conversation was dwindling down by that point. With the usual niceties and the constant keep-in-touch-es, the brief 2:48 long phone call was over.
To think Pamy and I were still reeling over the absence of Philippine Idol. Just a week ago, Pamy and I were yelling our assess off at the Araneta and voting our fingers away and now, there's no more Idol to look forward to. This call was perfectly timed.
Remember all that discomfort I was feeling after pigging out? Well, miraculously, I got cured. I felt suprisingly