the entry about passing the thirty-first hurdle

am i experiencing stockholm syndrome or did the trappings of adding another year to my being thirty-something passing by was kind of good? i would have expected an epic wipeout, but i let out nay a whimper. i know for a fact that many would celebrate their thirties, earmarking it as the arrival of their "maturity", or as my sane world calls it, "insane". but forgive me, for i am a little tardy with getting old.

well, this birthdaytestant, a.k.a yours truly, had the honor of having a surprise party thrown for me (major thanks eric!). and it was a swell time of merrymaking and jollification with my cronies who made it to the party, although the initial done-to-death "surprise!" greeting by party guests with me blindfolded sent me positively reeling; i'm never much one for clichés.

at the surprise birthday party, i was wearing a design inspirational of a hamburglar costume. as anyone can attest, i looked a little out of place, considering the venue being al fresco et al, and me donning on layers -- curse you, tropical climate!

it was a tacit misogynist soiree, judging by the number of female guests who turned up. i am guessing the birthday planner didn't want to run the risk of emaciated lassies raining on my parade. other than that, everyone was unmistakably beaming and gushing about the multi-tiered cake made of cupcakes. my god, people. i was swamped with swigs of alcohol left and right i swore i was experiencing triple vision.

a surprise party, numerous birthday wishes and one too many drinks later, the proceedings of the party was adjourned to mimolette, which by then i was so stoned out with champs i was practically doing the zombie club stroll. but what a day it was! happy me thirty-one day!

surf's up!

orgy-fest of party folks

patrick, thrueno, sebastian & louis

ben & i, and some others in hindsight

the party's never complete without gabriel, ben, jem & of course duncan

bestie ray and his trusty heineken

the ethereal sisters, lisa and june, in tow

my business partner and nonetheless buddy kevin a.k.a tw

not forgetting dear eric, who made this event an event.

and our official photographer, tj, kudos!

the intricate birthday cake that was made up of entirely cupcakes and little booklets ...

... that had pictures and words in it too!

ever the bashful me, hogging the spotlight

thanks to the skillful folks, pauline and husband, who made the cake.

the colorful gin gang. to many more years!

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the entry through the year

this entry is all about deluging you people with a selection of pictures i have amassed over the past year. no caption fillers, just death by pictorial haranguer. enjoy!

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the entry about a stork revisit

i'm not much one for resolutions but i've managed to stick onto my current one like a sticky note-pad. so it is lesson six of powerplates, and i'm feeling great about it. i am never much of a person who sweats, but every time yours truly steps on that damned machine, i'm drenched head to toe in my own perspiration after every session, without fail.

anyhows, i was browsing in sephora (skin care conglomerate) and i careened into an aisle which sold a line of baby skin care products, aptly called babies only. i thought only adults were privileged vain shitez, but apparently this entitlement has been extended to crawling infants who would like to fawn over themselves as well. the series boasted serums, shampoos, balms, wash, etc, ie. another commercial gimmick. like anyone would buy them. bah!

well, i scooped out a couple, thinking it would make a nice gift for my niece-in-the-making. yeah, incoming! come september, i would be a reluctant-albeit-chirpy uncle of two. or at least until the insatiable duo couple otherwise known as my bro and sister-in-law decide a few more is in order.

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the entry of ecstatic aesthetics

know this: the area within the vicinity of my lips has become a treasure trove of pustular breakouts and whiteheads, creating the illusion of a white moustache all fuckin around. it is times like this that you really appreciate infomercials peddling products like proactiv. any takers on that?

speaking of which, i'm a freaking vain shitez, it's crazy. i am constantly purveying new skincare products that guarantees to be the creme de la creme, as though my already bursting arsenal of products i've procured isn't enough to begin with; i could practically do different permutations of skincare regimes.

this pro-epidermis attitude had me swiping a few items off the counter at the malls today just because they, according to the persuasive salesgirl, were "good for the skin". i racked these up in a matter of exactly under 30 mins (and i'm praying they take even shorter to work their magic):

my new facial routine, clockwise from left: lab series age-less face cream, a daily moisturizer that erases the signs of aging, peter thomas roth glycolic acid hydrating gel, a mild exfoliant to clarify lifeless skin tones, peter thomas roth hyaluronic acid, a must-buy serum that attracts moisture to the skin up to 1000 times its own weight, and ole henriksen lift eye gel for tired, insipid eyes like yours truly.

on other news, i did a little brow-threading at browhaus, and it was a total disaster. the folks decided to administer a perpetually surprised look for me that i'm looking a little k.d.lang-ish, and i totally can't rock the andro look. i am a disgruntled customer, so no pictures of me furtively hiding my face. man, i feel emasculated.

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the entry of lean mastications

so i've developed a real compulsion with my diet regime, seeing how much time i'll be investing in powerplating over the next month. i now have a tenacious four-meal-a-day protocol, which will see me guzzling down 1) cereal/power lunch with half portion carb 2) fruit platter 3) protein shake 4) fish soup, or anything to that extent which does not involve any carbs. if you must know, which i am pretty sure you don't want to, to make sure i really stick to my guns, there will be no booze weekends for me to look forward to if i do let slip.

this is, by far, the strictest diet i've ever embarked upon, knowing how much of a sucker i am for fat-rich, nutrient-poor nosh. already, i'm feeling stymied without my usual fried fanfare with hoards of kway teoh and the likes of it. how comforting it is to know that there are magazines and media that celebrate cadaverous bodies or steroid-boosted adonics and indirectly denouncing us couch-potato pudges.

harrumph, if only obtrusive love handles and beer bellies were celebrated in this part of the world.

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