Goddess, I Am.

I’ve never done tags before. The only tags that I ever get are the ones in Facebook, and I happen to think it’s the height of tacky – and a tad too self-centered – to flood my friends’ Facebook homepages with the 25 things that make me special, or how I have the personality of a flip-flop. It annoys me to no end when people do this because, really, I (and I suspect the rest of these people’s friends list) don’t give a flying kahuna if your celebrity twin is Ashley Tisdale because I don’t even know who that is!

But I digress. I got my first ever blog tag from Chin a couple of days ago, and this I’m compelled to do because (a) I’ve been constantly writing about myself here because, well, it is my blog; (b) I’m not forcing this down anyone’s throat (or, at least, Facebook homepage) because I figured if you’re reading this (and everything else in this blog), you probably wanted to (I imagine); and (c) I have absolutely nothing to write about that’s even remotely interesting.

So here’s what Chin is making me do this time:

1. Mention the person who nominated you.
2. List 6 unimportant things that make you happy.
3. Tag 6 blogs, state the rules, and notify them with a teeny comment on their blog.

Ladies and gentlemen, without much further ado, here are the six unimportant – and often ridiculous – things that make me deliriously happy:

1. Tattered underwear. You know, the ones with the broken elastics and frayed edges and holes aplenty. I love wearing them at home with little else. I love how I don’t feel constricted or uncomfortable, especially now that it’s summer. I would even wear them every chance I get when I go out if my outfit will just allow it. Yes, nothing makes me feel light and buoyant all day more than tattered underwear. Save the sexy ones for sexy clothes and sexy moments. They may be more attractive, but only tattered underwear can set you free!

2. Chuckie. Chuckie is not a psycho doll, nor is it a Rugrat. Oh no, Chuckie is anything but that trivial. Chuckie is nectar from the gods, the very liquid from the Fountain of Youth – and all that jazz. Yes, it’s none other than the chocolate milk drink of champions.

I’ve been drinking Chuckie all my life since the days when it was called Chocolait. We always keep a carton or two in the fridge because I just can’t be without my Chuckie. Why, I’d go without food, just as long as I have Chuckie. Oh, and I can even sing the Chuckie jingle upon request.

3. The Fiance’s Armpits. Okay, I know this is gag-worthy to some – if not all – of my readership, but this is my tag, and I’m inclined to tell the truth. I don’t have an armpit fetish or anything – gosh, no! If anything, I’ve always found armpits best ignored. Somewhere along the way, however, I developed a rather strange, umm, attachment to the man’s pits. I will always find reasons to touch ‘em and kiss ‘em and get under ‘em. I better stop right here before I start going into way too much unwelcome detail.

4. Julius Caesar. And yes, I do mean the man, and all the stories of the ancient Roman Republic before it became the Roman Empire and the lesser emperors ran it to the ground. I don’t claim to know all about it, but every time I come across a book, or a movie, or even just an article about it, that’s it – I will have little attention to spare for anything else. Right now my favorite reads on the subject are the books in Colleen McCullough’s Masters of Rome series. I’ll talk about this in another blog post later, or else I’ll never stop.

On a side note, I do believe I have some Julian blood in me. I don’t know how that could be possible, but I like to think so anyway. Why else would I always be dreaming of conquering Gaul of the Long-hairs on horseback in gladiator sandals? I’ve considered that I might be Caesar himself in my past life, which would explain why I like wearing mini skirts. I have also considered that this may just be because I have a thing for European men and have a subconscious need to conquer, rape, and pillage. I like the past life theory better.

5. iStore Fliers. Every couple of weeks or so, I would pay a visit to the iStore in Ayala and ask the guy at the door for the latest Macbook price lists. The prices haven’t changed much (if at all), but I’m hoping they’ll knock off a zero so I can get me a pretty Macbook Aluminum,. Or perhaps take pity on me and actually hand me one on the condition that I stop wasting their paper. Yes, I do get strange ideas in my head.

6. The Toilet Hose. Growing up in the Philippines, I was quite used to the whole bucket-and-dipper routine when it came to washing up after certain, umm, businesses. When I moved to Thailand, however, I was completely hooked on the toilet hose – you know, the ones that are bolted to conveniently beside the toilet, so one can just reach over and use the nozzle control thingy to wash up to one’s heart’s content.

After living there for a year and a half, the toilet hose completely spoiled me so that when we moved back to Cebu, I actually suffered a bit of culture shock when I found out that our apartment didn’t have one. Furthermore, I no longer had the dexterity required to make the bucket-and-dipper routine work. So after much searching and loads of whining, The Fiance eventually installed a toilet hose for me – and we all lived happily ever after.

Now the hard part – tagging six other people. Truth be told, I’m mostly a lurker in other people’s blogs because I’m shy (believe it or not), so I don’t really have a lot of blogger friends. I’m just going to play it safe and tag people I know, or at least, exchanged comments with.

Kaye, Jen, Lara, Kessa, Mikes, and Lio – tag, you’re it!

My full first name is Faye Iris. Attach my middle and last names to that, and I have pretty impressive name – if I do say so myself. I grew up with people telling me every so often how unique my name is and how cute it is and how they’re going to name their children after me, yada yada.

Even the NBI (the Philippine version of the FBI) seemed to agree. Every time I paid them a visit to get my yearly NBI clearance, I smugly breeze through the whole process without fear that a spurious namesake will come up with some obscure criminal record to haunt me, as they do other folks with more garden-variety names.

Naturally, I reveled in my imagined uniqueness. Okay, that’s an understatement. Admittedly, I’ve always been kind of smug about my name. The point is I felt special and oh-so thankful that I wasn’t named something silly like Luzviminda, or even something ridiculously corny like Sheila. I like being Faye Iris, and I like to think that I’m the only Faye Iris in the entire Philippine archipelago, if not, the world.

Imagine my chagrin when a “Faye Irish” surfaced on my Facebook’s People You May Know section. I don’t know what shocked me more – that there’s someone named Faye Irish (I hate it when people mistakenly call me “Irish”, by the way, which seems to be quite often for some reason), or that I’m supposed to possibly know her. I did consider the possibility that someone did name their child after moi, but upon closer inspection, Faye Irish is actually right about my age. Not only that, she’s working in the same company that I used to work for AND is friends with some of my friends.

This development prompted me to Google my first name. Apart from at least two other Faye Irishes from Manila, there is at least one other Faye Iris (also from Manila) and an Iris Faye in (shockingly) Cebu. To top it all off, it looks like I’m not the only Faye Iris who’s a writer because there’s an American Faye Iris who is a poet.

Needless to say, I got off my high horse faster than recoiling spring plungers. I think I’m starting to develop the beginnings of a self-esteem issue now.

For the past couple of days, I’ve been trying to figure out how to upload pictures on my blog. Oh, it’s not that I don’t know how; it’s that it won’t let me. This is the first problem I’ve encountered since I started a self-hosted site (am I using the correct term?) a few days ago.

As it turns out, this is common problem with Wordpress 2.5.1. After poking around a bit (and a rather frantic message to Matt in Facebook), I found a myriad of “solutions” ranging from upgrading Flash and Java, to updating source codes. It was enough to make my head spin, Linda Blair style. So I took the path of least resistance and decided to install a plugin (that’s at least something I know how to do) to disable the Flash uploader and just use a rather basic one instead. Thankfully, it worked. You can now see Jollibee smiling happily in what used to be the barren landscape of my blog.

So there you go. I have just managed to fix my first ever technical problem on my own, a feat that’s pretty much wasted because my camera (or should I say, my mum’s camera that I borrowed) decided to die on me for no discernible reason. And this was after I bought a special USB cable that cost me 700 baht just so I can upload my pictures. Obviously, I’m not happy, not happy at all.

So until I can figure out what’s wrong with this piece of shit camera, you’ll have to put up with ol’ big butt over here.