Did I hear “Jingle Bells” playing on the radio this morning? Well, it is September. Actually in Florida last July I saw Halloween stuff on display in a drugstore. I guess it does not hurt to be ahead of the game.
Prices keep rising, and some say Christmas may not be too merry this year. Time to trim our lists.
Allow me a bit of a rant.
After my long vacation, I have noticed we seem to be going to the gas station more often than usual. I don’t take long rides. Maybe on a Sunday I will dare go on Edsa and wander off to Greenhills.
I despair in paralyzed traffic. It was better a decade or so ago when I had to take daily trips to Batasan. I don’t even want to think of the time it would take me to get there now.
I heard another increase in gas prices is waiting in the wings. There seems to be no relief on the horizon. And what’s this I read about weevils in the rice? Are we importing galunggong, or was that just fake news? Didn’t someone say the traffic problem would be solved right away?
I thought things were supposed to get better? What is going on? Just asking.
It has been the talk of the town in and out of movie circles. “Crazy Rich Asians” opened early last week to rave reviews and has since grossed worldwide much more than some box-office moneymakers in recent history.
When my daughter and I watched, every seat was taken. We loved every minute of it. It was more than charming. It was delightful. I found it tender and very funny. Constance Wu and Henry Golding make a convincing “love” couple.
The mahjong scene is powerful. It touched me beyond words.
And I loved Princess Intan. Kris Aquino looks stunning. Her few lines are well delivered. She was not just a “walk-on” or “cameo,” like some people want to describe her role. I had so looked forward to her scene that I actually got teary-eyed when I saw her. Her moments on screen were impressive.
For all her adoring fans and nasty bashers, here’s my take on it: Love her or hate her (and I loved her), Kris did us proud.
Reunion of friends
I went to a birthday lunch the other day. It was a small group that gathered at the celebrator’s home. It was wonderful to see old friends again. It had been too long.
We feasted on buttery escargot, authentic callos a la Madrileña, baba ganoush and a delicious coq au vin. I loved the turron with “never-to-sleep-again” French press coffee.
The conversation was lively. It always is. Someone talked about cosmetic surgery and how it can get horribly botched up. And it reminded me of a TV show my sister watches in Atlanta.
“Botched” is hosted by two celebrity plastic surgeons, Terry Dubrow and Paul Nassif, who go on the road across America to meet patients who have been “botched” physically, either by genetics or traumatic events, and/or cosmetic procedures gone wrong.
These troubled and sad, and sometimes very angry individuals tell their stories on TV. In return, the doctors use their skills to do their “magical” restoration. The one-hour episodes sometimes show follow-up visits with the made-over patients, some of them boasting about how their lives have changed.
The show must be rating well. It has been on for several seasons. I am surprised that my sister enjoys the show. She is squeamish about surgery and doctor stuff. But she seethes over the insatiable vanity of some clients. “They become addicted, obsessed and don’t know when to quit. Some of them look like monsters.”
I remember a friend’s daughter who, when she graduated from college with honors, was asked by her parents what she wanted as a prize for her achievement.
Without hesitation, she asked for a nose job. She was a very pretty young woman, with an impeccable complexion, beautiful eyes and a gorgeous smile. But her nose was too tall and thin and unattractive, she thought. Perhaps this was the reason she was extremely shy and timid.
The parents took her to the best cosmetic surgeon they could find. He did a fantastic job; nothing was out of context with the rest of her face. Her new nose was perfect for her other features. When it was over, her confidence seemed to soar and she went on to pursue a successful career in business.
By the way, that same year, she married her college beau who had loved her long before surgery.
That’s one happy story I know.
A few familiar names popped up, stories about faces, eyes and eyelids that have been stretched and reshaped, of hairlines and chins lifted and tucked in.
And we heard about botched-up jobs done on a few ladies who went “under the knife.” Pity. Most of them were beautiful to begin with. Why didn’t they leave well enough alone?
My wise friend says, “If I were to remove my wrinkles, I would be erasing the memory of laughter; of my happy moments, of my tears. Each season of my life has marked me and transformed me into the woman I have become. Wrinkles, laugh lines, age spots, a sagging jawline and all, it is I. It is who I am. And I love it.”