So I just found out. Like right this moment... Happy 100 Posts to me! I hope I get in at least a couple more hundred posts before ol' Que Varbs gives up on me.
Now that we got the pleasantries out of the way, allow me to give a little reality check, coz heck knows I haven't been all that in touch with the cold hard truth of life and things for the longest time.
Typhoon Mina (international codename: Mitag) is not just the latest nuisance in the local scene vying with our cruddy "politickians" for our national attention. She's a veritable PMS-ing biatch, wreaking havoc and making a hell of a scene in the backyard of our poor, displaced neighbors in Bicol. If my blasted memory of all things numerical doesn't fail me, an estimated 200,000 people are being forced out of home and hearth and evacuating to safer ground. And apparently, it was just practice; Mina's just getting her freak on. All I can say is, "Dude! Not another Milenyo!"
Last year's superstar typhoon ("super typhoon" in real world terms) Milenyo (international codename: Xangsane) made such an impression, my then housemates (Prima and Jal) and I have since referred to the time as our "Mogadishu" days. Not because we loved Josh Hartnett in Black Hawk Down, the last released big-ass flick depicting the conflict in the Somali capital; neither was it because we were channeling Brangelina and suddenly felt like going the Peace Corps way (although once upon a time, Jal and I had curiously harbored short-lived dreams of doing volunteer work in even poorer places than the PH, like for real--sorry, reality check bitch-slapped us back to wakefulness). It was coz for a few days in our otherwise very ordinary lives, we felt like we were in the movies. Like inside the movies, as opposed to being in the movies like Josh and posse.
Them Mogadishu days were something all right. I remember the uber-extended public holidays, if you can even call them that. The three of us were stuck at home with no lights, no TV, no electric fan, no nothing. Our other housemate was shacking up at one of them motel-like hotels with her paramour for the AC. (Hey, just so we're clear, I'm not saying this in any way. It's true, if you ask her yourself, she'll admit it to you straight away.) Meanwhile, Prima, Jal and I were staging our own Amazing Race all over the neighborhood in a pathetic attempt to find some candles coz Lord knows how the supermalls ran out of them so fast that you'd pay top dollar for any kind of wax you could get your hands on. We finally found a mom-and-pop store that sold some few last ones. Good Lord, it sure was a damn good fight, worthy of a Hollywood adaptation. We couldn't see in the muggy darkness and kept stumbling on fallen tree branches and stepping on puddles of mud everywhere that it was a wonder we got anywhere at all. And the water, my goulash. Ickily we were waiting in vain for the water department guys to work their magic. While we waited, we played cards, stuffed ourselves on desserts we hoarded in preparation for the ordeal, and gossiped about the people we knew. There's never a more fun time to have such simple, low-key pleasures like all that than during blackouts, I always say.
In the morning, when things were supposed to look better (as the saying goes), we lay witness to Mogadishu being played out in our own street. Everything was brown. Like, you know, the color of, you know...soil. (You were thinking maybe something else?) The streets were brown, the sky was brown, the air (normally a light shade of smogged-up black) was brown. Hell, even us brown people never looked more brown. The power lines looked like Tarzan came to town and thought it was all right to be swinging around on those black, stringy thingies as a mode of transportation. It was a friggin' warzone, I tell you. And we were living (still are) in beautiful, dependable Makati City already. I had never been so excited to be going back to the office.
And now this. Maybe that's why, for the past couple of nights, when the cab taking me home turned the corner into my neighborhood, I knew something was "off". The streets leading to my place were freakishly dark. Then came the sudden reruns of "V for Vendetta" in my mind and I felt a little spooked. I mean, this is Makati City. City lights don't go MIA whenever they feel like it. The streets in my neighborhood were so cloaked in darkness, as if someone put the lights out in an attempt to cause widespread panic, usurp power by force, and in the resulting mayhem, destabilize the status quo. Oh, wait--that's what Mina's trying to do, actually. So now I have the answer, I understand. Life makes sense again.
***
Oh, Mina Mina Mina. Coz of you, we're not doing Animo anymore. I know, I know. Manila is a long way from Bicol, and even from Mindoro, your presumed exit strategy. But I won't go running around this big, bad town soaking wet. I only got Nike dri-fits; they ain't no waterproof threads, you know. Anyway, Bry, one of the running buddies, is stuck somewhere between Naga City (yes, that's in Bicol) and Manila. The other guy, Jer, is of the same mind as moi and not feeling it. Besides, it's quite likely the whole thing will be called off due to the forecast of strong rains.
Anyhoo, there's always Yakult on December 9th. And the AFP Invitational the weekend after. Seriously, I have GOT to get my A-game on. Need to keep running in the meantime. And put in time again in the training gym in Pasig. I'm getting so weak and everything. Not to mention them damn zits are once again making their bulbous presence felt. It's the usual suspects: work, work, and--let me not forget--work.
Well, now I gotta go. Or else I might be tempted to stay and check out some cool (not!) PowerPoint slides I got a hold of today. Tomorrow is the start of what could be a really soggy weekend. But I'm sure it's gonna be much better than the debilitating agony of the last few weekends. Save for the Ateneo Run, that is.
Update (November 26th):
So. There were no Milenyo-esque apparitions in the city last weekend. Maybe later this week, although of course, I'm not crossing my fingers. So yesterday the Animo Run would have pushed through. Too bad. Oh well.
Friday, November 23, 2007
Monday, November 19, 2007
Remains of The Day (Yesterday)
So the end of the calvary is near. I'm ecstatic at getting my life back, and there's no other way to do it but with a vengeance.
Yesterday, the trifecta of running junkies from the consulting office--that's me, Bry, and Jer--got a little nostalgic running around the Ateneo de Manila campus with a bunch of teeners. We were there to support Jer's nephew, whose grade 7 class was having its family day, the highlight of which was the "Crossover Run for Gawad Kalinga", a charity fundraiser that was supposed to kick off at 6am but actually sputtered to life at 9am! Anyhow, it was fun, I actually got 5th place in the women's open run, for which I got a prize of two boxes of Enervon Prime (yes--that's milk for "old timers"!) Hah. Ateneans sure know how to take care of their constituents. What a riot, that place.
Now this Maroon has never gone the blue way, but I had a ball walking about and discovering the nooks and crannies of the grade school area (although I only got as far as the sort-of dorm, I think, lest I actually be trespassing on sacred ground). I got there a little early and decided to fix myself up a bit as it looked like the party was gonna take some time to get started (and hell, was I right). Snatches of flashback deluged this sleep-deprived head as I strolled past the buildings in search of the elusive ladies' room (hey, I just realized it's an all-boys school). Along with the rain that greeted the wee hours of the morning, the smell of the damp grounds and soggy grass was surprisingly invigorating. The gentle slope of the paved road, the brownness of tree trunks lining the street, the vague familiarity of glassed-in student message boards, everything brought on soothing reminiscence of an era long gone.
Fast-forwarding a bit, I was also thrown back to the time when the Buencamino Kid and I went jogging in these parts in between our midnight oil sessions. I remember during a rest period, we were lounging on the steps of some church or other similar-looking edifice, and somehow the usual light banter turned serious, and I was trying to avoid being argumentative and not give in to the sudden barb. I should have seen it coming; we were too much alike, and at the same time so very different. Eventually BK and I sort of withered away, but not until a few years later. It's a little sad, actually. Good thing there's running then.
Yes, I just had to turn unnecessarily maudlin. Never mind that then. To end, I have to say Ateneo was really pretty, as always, and being marooned in the place for a longer period than I signed up for, it felt like a communal haven that cosseted you from the ills of modern society. Never mind the socio-cultural implications of what I just expressed. I say this with fondness, and even with a little whimsy. Sometimes I do wish I went to an all-boys school. (As a boy, that is, you.) I'm sure it would have been a blast, even more so than going to an all-girls school. I dunno. I just feel there's a freedom to boyhood that's more all-encompassing and evocative of the spirit of youth. Either that or Soms, my McLovin-loving buddyboo, just had way too much fun in his heyday.
Yesterday, the trifecta of running junkies from the consulting office--that's me, Bry, and Jer--got a little nostalgic running around the Ateneo de Manila campus with a bunch of teeners. We were there to support Jer's nephew, whose grade 7 class was having its family day, the highlight of which was the "Crossover Run for Gawad Kalinga", a charity fundraiser that was supposed to kick off at 6am but actually sputtered to life at 9am! Anyhow, it was fun, I actually got 5th place in the women's open run, for which I got a prize of two boxes of Enervon Prime (yes--that's milk for "old timers"!) Hah. Ateneans sure know how to take care of their constituents. What a riot, that place.
Now this Maroon has never gone the blue way, but I had a ball walking about and discovering the nooks and crannies of the grade school area (although I only got as far as the sort-of dorm, I think, lest I actually be trespassing on sacred ground). I got there a little early and decided to fix myself up a bit as it looked like the party was gonna take some time to get started (and hell, was I right). Snatches of flashback deluged this sleep-deprived head as I strolled past the buildings in search of the elusive ladies' room (hey, I just realized it's an all-boys school). Along with the rain that greeted the wee hours of the morning, the smell of the damp grounds and soggy grass was surprisingly invigorating. The gentle slope of the paved road, the brownness of tree trunks lining the street, the vague familiarity of glassed-in student message boards, everything brought on soothing reminiscence of an era long gone.
Fast-forwarding a bit, I was also thrown back to the time when the Buencamino Kid and I went jogging in these parts in between our midnight oil sessions. I remember during a rest period, we were lounging on the steps of some church or other similar-looking edifice, and somehow the usual light banter turned serious, and I was trying to avoid being argumentative and not give in to the sudden barb. I should have seen it coming; we were too much alike, and at the same time so very different. Eventually BK and I sort of withered away, but not until a few years later. It's a little sad, actually. Good thing there's running then.
Yes, I just had to turn unnecessarily maudlin. Never mind that then. To end, I have to say Ateneo was really pretty, as always, and being marooned in the place for a longer period than I signed up for, it felt like a communal haven that cosseted you from the ills of modern society. Never mind the socio-cultural implications of what I just expressed. I say this with fondness, and even with a little whimsy. Sometimes I do wish I went to an all-boys school. (As a boy, that is, you.) I'm sure it would have been a blast, even more so than going to an all-girls school. I dunno. I just feel there's a freedom to boyhood that's more all-encompassing and evocative of the spirit of youth. Either that or Soms, my McLovin-loving buddyboo, just had way too much fun in his heyday.
Welcome To The Black Parade (or We'll Carry On)
Guzzling coffee and drowning in pumpkin soup and The Prodigy.
There's no other way, no other way. Not on this Manic Monday.
Press play.
There's no other way, no other way. Not on this Manic Monday.
Press play.
|
Saturday, November 10, 2007
Hungry? Or Just Really Bored, Lonely, or Tired?
Wow, free dietary consulting! I lurrrvvv the Internet. Props to the MuayThaiFan for the heads up on the Metabolic Typing Quiz, the results of which you will see below.
Says the Natural Health Coach:
I especially love the fact that I get FreeDays to gorge (okay, well, maybe not exactly "gorge") on any dessert of my choosing. As anyone who knows me can attest, I have a pretty big little sweet tooth. I may be all for healthy eating and what-not, and I do have days when I can go totally vegan or carb-free if there is particular need for it. But to be perfectly honest, I tend to bypass that inner voice when I spy something that piques my curiosity (which, as everyone knows, is what killed the cat). If it looks pretty, I might just inhale the whole thing right then and there, regardless of whether I'm actually hungry or not. Curiosity of the palate is all it takes, and I find that I'm always able to rationalize through the racket of warning bells going off in my head.
But self-serving rationalization isn't always the way to go. If you have goals, whether they be in health, work, love, whatever, there's no room for wishy-washiness. Easier said than anything else, as always, but does that mean it's right to just shrug it off, saying "Duh, there are other more important things I should be concerned with.."? Fact is, in this day and age of takeout pizza and couch potato careerism, your health is all you have (okay, aside from your brain, your spirit, yada-yada.. but that's beside the point). If you're not healthy right now (or at least don't feel in the pink of things), you're not likely to be able to do a lot of things that everyone normally takes for granted. And that's hard, when you really take stock of the multitude of things one can do when they're unshackled by health woes. There is really a different kind of freedom to be had from merely knowing this. But as with all major struggles for freedom throughout history, the campaign for healthy living doesn't come without a fight. There will be times when we waver in our resolve and that's okay. But abandoning the cause is just plain sad. When you wave that white flag on your health, you might as well do the chicken dance while you're at it coz that's probably what you think being fit is good for. And by the way, just because one is fit doesn't mean they're healthy. That's a whole different debate. What we're talking about is something more holistic. We're not talking about Miss Hawaiian Tropic standards here. Heaven help me if I think I can begin to fathom the workout and lifestyle quirks of sub-one percent of the world population. Of course, being ripped like them girls in the pageant wouldn't be the worst thing to happen in life. So what, you ask, is being healthy then? Well, that remains to be more relative, and hence complex, a question than it would seem. (Perhaps another post would do the topic justice.) But suffice it to say that being healthy is more than a state of mind; it's a way of life.
Nobody said anything we ever do for ourselves was gonna be easy. But everything boils down to a little decision-making. And you stick by what you've decided you want for yourself through thick and thin. And in this case, thin is definitely better than thick (at least for the majority of us who aren't blessed with a killer metabolism). Now if I had the discipline for it, I would love to go the skinny way even, if only so I'd be able to squeeze into my fave threads from 5 years back (hmm, on second thought, I think I was a little chunkier then than I am now). But I somehow doubt if I can manage decent kicks and knees or not be blown away by great gusts of wind when I attempt my next 5K if I pulled a Mary Kate. In any case, I think the world would be an even brighter place if we fed our heiresses enough so that their median life expectancy would be a little higher, and then we can expect lots more antics from this bunch in the years to come. I just wonder if Lance has any plans of helping his new flame's twin beef up, what with him being the poster boy for carb fiends everywhere and all.
Says the Natural Health Coach:
I especially love the fact that I get FreeDays to gorge (okay, well, maybe not exactly "gorge") on any dessert of my choosing. As anyone who knows me can attest, I have a pretty big little sweet tooth. I may be all for healthy eating and what-not, and I do have days when I can go totally vegan or carb-free if there is particular need for it. But to be perfectly honest, I tend to bypass that inner voice when I spy something that piques my curiosity (which, as everyone knows, is what killed the cat). If it looks pretty, I might just inhale the whole thing right then and there, regardless of whether I'm actually hungry or not. Curiosity of the palate is all it takes, and I find that I'm always able to rationalize through the racket of warning bells going off in my head.
But self-serving rationalization isn't always the way to go. If you have goals, whether they be in health, work, love, whatever, there's no room for wishy-washiness. Easier said than anything else, as always, but does that mean it's right to just shrug it off, saying "Duh, there are other more important things I should be concerned with.."? Fact is, in this day and age of takeout pizza and couch potato careerism, your health is all you have (okay, aside from your brain, your spirit, yada-yada.. but that's beside the point). If you're not healthy right now (or at least don't feel in the pink of things), you're not likely to be able to do a lot of things that everyone normally takes for granted. And that's hard, when you really take stock of the multitude of things one can do when they're unshackled by health woes. There is really a different kind of freedom to be had from merely knowing this. But as with all major struggles for freedom throughout history, the campaign for healthy living doesn't come without a fight. There will be times when we waver in our resolve and that's okay. But abandoning the cause is just plain sad. When you wave that white flag on your health, you might as well do the chicken dance while you're at it coz that's probably what you think being fit is good for. And by the way, just because one is fit doesn't mean they're healthy. That's a whole different debate. What we're talking about is something more holistic. We're not talking about Miss Hawaiian Tropic standards here. Heaven help me if I think I can begin to fathom the workout and lifestyle quirks of sub-one percent of the world population. Of course, being ripped like them girls in the pageant wouldn't be the worst thing to happen in life. So what, you ask, is being healthy then? Well, that remains to be more relative, and hence complex, a question than it would seem. (Perhaps another post would do the topic justice.) But suffice it to say that being healthy is more than a state of mind; it's a way of life.
Nobody said anything we ever do for ourselves was gonna be easy. But everything boils down to a little decision-making. And you stick by what you've decided you want for yourself through thick and thin. And in this case, thin is definitely better than thick (at least for the majority of us who aren't blessed with a killer metabolism). Now if I had the discipline for it, I would love to go the skinny way even, if only so I'd be able to squeeze into my fave threads from 5 years back (hmm, on second thought, I think I was a little chunkier then than I am now). But I somehow doubt if I can manage decent kicks and knees or not be blown away by great gusts of wind when I attempt my next 5K if I pulled a Mary Kate. In any case, I think the world would be an even brighter place if we fed our heiresses enough so that their median life expectancy would be a little higher, and then we can expect lots more antics from this bunch in the years to come. I just wonder if Lance has any plans of helping his new flame's twin beef up, what with him being the poster boy for carb fiends everywhere and all.
Haha, I Do Wish I Live in California
All hail the great Oracle of Starbucks! May we find salvation in the hallowed words that ring throughout the eternal vastness of this caffeineated universe!
Notes of a Budding Epicurean
Here's a neat treat for food lovers and/or kitchen mavens with a conscience.
The Barilla Celebrity Pasta Lovers’ Cookbook is celebrating its 130th birthday with a bang that you don't often see or hear about in the world of corporate anniversary celebrations. By this I mean that the Italian brand is donating $1 to the Children's Food Education Foundation, an organization which aims to help children make healthy food choices, for every unique download of the 37-page cookbook. You can help contribute a little goodness by clicking here.
So I did my share and I'm sure someday the uber-tasty recipes that are found in the cookbook will personally be put to good use. I may not know how to cook anything more complex than scrambled eggs to save my life, but I sure as hell can ogle these babies to death--or at least until I collapse from dehydration caused by extensive salivating.
***
Another fabulous food blog find, in the tradition of The Chubby Hubby, Desserts Come First, and The Scent of Green Bananas. This latest addition to the blogroll is one that's bound to be a favorite of mine, and hopefully some of those who stumble upon this post who likewise share an appreciation for great food.
Aapplemint is not your ordinary food blog. By this I mean the author, Kate Kajal, is not your run-of-the-mill food blogger. Not only does she whip up these divine concoctions for all the blogging world to enjoy (sadly only visually, of course), but she does so without having had any formal training in baking or cooking. Kind of makes me hopeful that someday I might actually accidentally exorcise my inner Nigella, or at least channel the home soul vibe of Ina Garten, the Martha Stewart of East Hampton who cooks in the show Barefoot Contessa. Of course, I'll never know until I try, right? Hmmm, now there's a thought... Wow, I just got myself excited. Possibilities, possibilities. Don't you just love the word? But I digress.
Before my ADHD reclaims me and diverts me from the current train of thought, let me add that apart from the knockout recipes that you can find in Aapplemint, Ms. Kajal's pictures simply rawk. You gotta love the panache and effort she puts into the styling of her, uhm, outputs. (Sorry for the lack of a better-sounding term--can't think of anything more aptly enticing at the top of my head right now.) If there's anything that I love more than photos of food that's yumminess exemplified, it's photos of food that's yumminess exemplified that were taken with photographic flair and perspective. You'll understand when you check her out yourself.
***
I gotta say, looking at the photos from the blogs above adds to the sense of epiphany that's slowly been gaining form at the periphery of my subconscious since the time I discovered that I, well, really love food. Was that too many words? Sorry I couldn't be more laconic with that one. What I'm trying to say is, I think that maybe food styling is the one arm-chair passion that I can actually try and maybe go crazy with enough to jump into headlong and full-time. I know, I know. Totally out of whack. I dunno. It's just a thought, like you never know. Then again it might just be the tummy voicing out its revolt against my personal mandate to self-regulate late-night snacking.
Whatev. All I know is that food styling has the elements of some of the things that I'm truly passionate about: food and photography. Now if I can only get around to getting my hands "dirty" and actually doing these things, instead of just getting into the spirit of it all, then maybe I can say that I'm finally getting somewhere in my life. But that's stuff for a totally different post.
The Barilla Celebrity Pasta Lovers’ Cookbook is celebrating its 130th birthday with a bang that you don't often see or hear about in the world of corporate anniversary celebrations. By this I mean that the Italian brand is donating $1 to the Children's Food Education Foundation, an organization which aims to help children make healthy food choices, for every unique download of the 37-page cookbook. You can help contribute a little goodness by clicking here.
So I did my share and I'm sure someday the uber-tasty recipes that are found in the cookbook will personally be put to good use. I may not know how to cook anything more complex than scrambled eggs to save my life, but I sure as hell can ogle these babies to death--or at least until I collapse from dehydration caused by extensive salivating.
***
Another fabulous food blog find, in the tradition of The Chubby Hubby, Desserts Come First, and The Scent of Green Bananas. This latest addition to the blogroll is one that's bound to be a favorite of mine, and hopefully some of those who stumble upon this post who likewise share an appreciation for great food.
Aapplemint is not your ordinary food blog. By this I mean the author, Kate Kajal, is not your run-of-the-mill food blogger. Not only does she whip up these divine concoctions for all the blogging world to enjoy (sadly only visually, of course), but she does so without having had any formal training in baking or cooking. Kind of makes me hopeful that someday I might actually accidentally exorcise my inner Nigella, or at least channel the home soul vibe of Ina Garten, the Martha Stewart of East Hampton who cooks in the show Barefoot Contessa. Of course, I'll never know until I try, right? Hmmm, now there's a thought... Wow, I just got myself excited. Possibilities, possibilities. Don't you just love the word? But I digress.
Before my ADHD reclaims me and diverts me from the current train of thought, let me add that apart from the knockout recipes that you can find in Aapplemint, Ms. Kajal's pictures simply rawk. You gotta love the panache and effort she puts into the styling of her, uhm, outputs. (Sorry for the lack of a better-sounding term--can't think of anything more aptly enticing at the top of my head right now.) If there's anything that I love more than photos of food that's yumminess exemplified, it's photos of food that's yumminess exemplified that were taken with photographic flair and perspective. You'll understand when you check her out yourself.
***
I gotta say, looking at the photos from the blogs above adds to the sense of epiphany that's slowly been gaining form at the periphery of my subconscious since the time I discovered that I, well, really love food. Was that too many words? Sorry I couldn't be more laconic with that one. What I'm trying to say is, I think that maybe food styling is the one arm-chair passion that I can actually try and maybe go crazy with enough to jump into headlong and full-time. I know, I know. Totally out of whack. I dunno. It's just a thought, like you never know. Then again it might just be the tummy voicing out its revolt against my personal mandate to self-regulate late-night snacking.
Whatev. All I know is that food styling has the elements of some of the things that I'm truly passionate about: food and photography. Now if I can only get around to getting my hands "dirty" and actually doing these things, instead of just getting into the spirit of it all, then maybe I can say that I'm finally getting somewhere in my life. But that's stuff for a totally different post.
Tuesday, November 06, 2007
Jeepers Sleepers!
I'm a dreamer, but I'm not a very good sleeper...
- Michel Gondry, Acclaimed Director/Eternal Dreamer
Cool. Now I got one thing in common with the ingenious mind behind one of the most deelish films in recent years, "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind". Insomniacs of the world, unite and take refuge in the thought that our fate as enduring denizens of the night is not quite the sad fact of life that early sleepers/worms say it is. Who knew sleeplessness could be fashionable? Hence, it is for this reason that I think we should support all things Gondry (BTW--gotta love the spot work by his brother, Olivier, who was behind HP's "The Computer is Personal Again" TV ad campaign).
Michel Gondry's semi-recent cinematic offering, "The Science of Sleep", is definitely one of the movies on my to-watch list. I wonder if they ever marketed this commercially in Manila when it came out last year. Given my on-and-off devotion to Gael García Bernal, who stars in this heady, aesthetically disorienting piece of imagery, it's terribly unlikely that I might have slept through the entire run of its showing in theaters everywhere here. For sure, I would have felt His Royal Mexican Hotness' vibe--ooh but that smoldering gaze, through which one could glimpse the tortured soul of a true artist--beckoning and calling out to moi. ("¡Si, un momento, caro mio!") Then again, I am a pretty erratic sleeper, and when I do get the slumber party in my head started, there goes the monkey wrench into the whirling and spinning mechanism of my so-called life. Forget about love and imagined dates with destiny ("Lo siento, Gael baby..") and such worldly affairs. The only affair that I wanna be keeping is the one with my unan. But I digress. Sort of.
According to the official movie site, the DVD could already be snatched up since February this year. Of course, being a pirate at heart, I intend for this to be scored through more, erm, "consumer-savvy" means. The peso might be rising a wee bit, but this big baby needs more bang for her buck to thrive in the new economy. Dreaming sleepers, even the que terible ones, do have some living up to do outside the realm of slumberland.
Of course, such intentions do not not in any way serve to diminish my admiration for such mavericks of the cinema. I am all for supporting the arts in any way I can. After all, art is life. Or rather, art imitates life imitates art. (Or is it the other way around--life imitates art imitates life...?)
Okay, whatever. All I gotta say for now is, Monsieur Gondry, if you are reading this, vous êtes un très cool dude. If you need an extra pair of hands for your puppet scenes or a gopher for one of your rock videos, drop me a line! Will PA for peanuts!
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