In celebration of the screen couple’s wedding anniversary, here’s a look back at how their wardrobes grew along with them.
Photo credit: preen.inquirer.net
I’ve been approaching the point of no return when it comes to regular posting (did I say semi-weekly?) so I figured now would be the best time for my next b(ack)log post. My favorite holiday, Halloween, is coming up and I’ve been devoting a good chunk of my time to preparations! This year, I’m having 4 Halloweens.
More pictures and details on my costumes later on but for now, I leave you with this recipe for fake blood and a how to dress as the zombie train attendant from Train to Busan.
The laziest fake blood recipe ever
Good for: Staining clothes, taking pictures, staying squeaky clean and not attracting ants
Setbacks: Not long-wearing
Ingredients: Red food coloring, a dash of blue food coloring, Johnson’s baby shampoo
Directions: Just pour the food coloring in the bottle, shake it vigorously and you’re good to go!
I’ve been tasked to throw two baby showers for my sister, her husband and my soon-to-be godson, Wolfie (more on that later on) and because the timing is perfect, I decided to make them pre- and post- Halloween parties.
For baby shower no. 1, we decided to go as characters from the awesome Korean zombie flick, Train to Busan, mainly because it was too cute not to do for my pregnant sister (it was either that or Winnie the Pooh or Rosie-Huntington Whitely in Mad Max).
I went as the train attendant whose scarf was askew.
Sorry I don’t know how to pose.
Spot the characters who went as “generic zombie” c/o my fake blood.
If you’re single and ready to Tinder, I have some advice for you.
May-June has been incredibly busy and it shows in the stories I chose to write last month. (When in doubt, write what you know, you know?)
To a certain extent, you should always “write what you know” but this time I chose the incredibly easy kind of what-I-knows like How to pack for two weeks in Austria, which was obviously an excuse for me to take pictures of/in my outfits.
The published article linked above shows only the clothes I packed but as a bonus, here are some pictures of me wearing them:
Okay, a few things I’d like to point out–
Now time to go back to my impossible Manila wardrobe.
With temperatures reaching critical levels, keeping cool during summer has now become a top priority. It’s no longer just about keeping your oil levels in check or the sweat stains off your clothes—the critical temperatures we’ve been hitting all over the Philippines are a matter of health and maybe even (yikes) life or death.
Here are some suggestions, which may or may not have already occurred to you, apart from that glass of Coke, bucket of beer or tub of ice cream (all of which, by the way, are deceptively dehydrating), to keep that body temperature in check and lower that human discomfort index (yes, this is a legitimate term to describe that feeling you’re having) at all costs, or no cost at all.
Take your pick from my tips.
The next time you ditch your SPF 30 sunblock for your friend’s seemingly superior bottle marked SPF 80, consider this quick lesson from the gods and goddesses of Sun Protection Factor (a.k.a. SPF) over at Piz Buin, the Skin Cancer Foundation, and the U.S. Food and Drug Administration.
Read the full story on POC.
Last year I made an important, life-changing discovery about my period and now that I know the bloody truth, I’m going to spill.
You’ll also be happy to note that there are a number of places you can get these cups in the Philippines. No excuses now.
On a Monday night in the heart of bustling Makati Central Business District, a confused A_Space Manila administrator directed me to the secret event that had the building we were in pulsing with life.
“I think they’re in the kitchen,” he said as he led me two floors down to a brightly lit room with a bar, a sink, a stove, and a handful of guests cooking up something that wasn’t necessarily edible.
I stepped over an open guitar case with a sign that read “Hoochie Coochie Mikkie” taped inside. In the corner was a small table on which stood little bottles of different colored liquors. A chalk sign read, “From down the road: The Bonbon Club.”
A cheerful British lady greeted me as if we were old friends. After introducing herself as “Deanna,” she pulled me into the room, put a drink in my hand, introduced me to the circle of people congregating in the center, and commanded us to “mingle.”
The lady, as I later found out, was Deanna Rubiano, one half of the partnership behind Catch 88, a new members-only club that also advertises itself as a place where you can get a date who is as great a catch as yourself.