Time to Read, Philippines! (Or why we need to have our own version of ‘World Book Night’)

Mold. Prints. Folds. Ink.

Pages bound together. A tear in the corner of a copy loved. Adventures colliding in silence. The weight of a world in a single flip. Rejuvenating, intoxicating, surreal.

The power that a good book wields is irresistible enough as it is. But if that book is FREE, how much harder would it be for any of us to say no?

That’s exactly the kind of euphoria that World Book Night brings—250,000 free books, ten thousand volunteers, one awesome day.

To The Woman Who Has Miscarried --- Happy Mother’s Day

I was pregnant.

After all the treatments and pills and injections and debts, I was pregnant.

All it took were two pink lines and our joy was complete. I remember exactly the way my husband grinned at me when I rushed out of the bathroom, waving a gross peed-on stick around in the air.

In the sky that night, we gazed up at the fireworks exploding gloriously just as our own hearts were. We squeezed each other’s hand and knew that by this time next year, our holidays would be filled with a wonderful little addition to our married life. This was it. Our baby was here.

And then it was gone.

We’d always known it would be a high-risk pregnancy. The years of fertility treatments, blood transfusions, and failed inseminations made sure of that. So when our baby came, I transformed into the most delicate person in the world. The masks, the home injections, the quarantine, the house arrest. I was hospitalized twice in three weeks and couldn’t leave my room for days. All of these to make sure our precious little miracle hung in there and made it out safely.

But no amount of medical treatment could keep our baby alive, and at just 8 weeks, that tiny heart stopped beating.

And then mine broke.

It was cozy in our doctor’s clinic. While everyone was staring up at the game show flickering on TV, I was huddled in the corner with my stupid face mask on and the blurred photo of our tiny one in my hand. Nobody was looking at us, at my husband who was trying his best to be strong for me. Nobody was looking at how I tried to muffle my sobs because this just wasn’t the time and place. Nobody cared about the life we were losing.

Our baby was struggling inside me, her heart weak and frail and beating at 50 beats per minute. “Too low,” the doctor said. Too low to sustain the pregnancy, too weak to go on, too impossible to live.

When her heart rate dropped to zero, she was taken from me.

A lot of preparation, a lot of waiting, and a lot of blood. What was once my baby was now called a “specimen”, and that was it. In my last desperate act of clinging to my little one, I asked the nurse if they found anything during the procedure. But they didn’t. Not a tiny speck, not a single piece of evidence that my baby was once alive. Just bits of meat and blood, blood, blood.

The moment I woke up from the anesthesia, there was a sound in the other room, the beautiful cry of a newborn baby being delivered. And there I was, having just had mine removed.

They told me it was normal. They told me that losing an early baby was just like having your period. But when that baby has lived inside me for eight weeks, how could I not love her so, so much? Towards the end, all I could say to her was that it was okay. “It’s okay, sweetie, I’m still here. Don’t be afraid; I’m not going anywhere.” And it was true. Even in our baby’s final moments, I was still there. And that hole in my heart reserved for her would remain empty forever.

There are no funerals for a miscarriage. There is no ceremony to mourn the death of an unborn child, no eulogy for a dead baby, no socially accepted outlet to grieve over this loss. And even though your body heals itself in a few weeks, your heart just can’t recover the same way.

To you who have miscarried, I am sorry for your pain. I’m sorry that the world tells you to be quiet about your agony, to suffer in silence, to hide the baby you’ve lost. I’m sorry that not everyone understands how losing a baby means losing a part of yourself, and that no matter how long you tried to keep her alive—days, weeks, months—you will always carry that death in your heart. I’m sorry if every baby shower, every children’s party, every TV ad, and every pair of onesies on sale in the window reminds you of the child you never got to raise.

But that is how a mother is. Horrific and scarring and excruciating as the loss might have been, your child is your child, and no miscarriage can make you any less of a Mom. Our baby may only have been with us for a brief time, but for those magnificent two months, my husband and I became the happiest parents in the world. And that’s something nobody can take away.

So to you who have ever had a miscarriage, I salute you.

You were willing to do whatever it took to keep your baby healthy and well for as long as you possibly could.

You took that seed and nourished it, planned your baby’s life ahead of you, and knew exactly what he or she might have grown up to be.

You carried her and took care of her, stayed up late on troublesome nights to make sure she was okay.

You took her to doctor’s appointments to keep her healthy; you played with her and read to her and sang her to sleep.

You were brave enough to stay with her throughout her whole life, and even though you were scared, you were strong enough to hold on to her and never let her go.

You touched her with a mother’s touch and loved her with a mother’s love.

You are a Mom.

Here’s to you then, dear sister, and here’s to every beautiful unborn baby in the world. You are our children, and we are your Mom.

And no matter what happens, sweet little one, you will never be forgotten.

What Reading a Good Book Can Do For You

Blame it on that hardbound Ladybird Book that told me tales of a Little Red Hen who tried to bake some bread for her farm friends, but ever since I was a little kid, I have been a sucker for books. Slap me anywhere with a good story and I will stay there, hooked, unmoving, and perfectly primed to grow my own mold culture for years and years to come.

I know that booklovers around the world will affirm with a resounding “YES” when I say that there is nothing more intoxicating that sniffing a book until my brain cells hurt, but that is just how it is, and no amount of hi-tech ebooks can replace that.

Thankfully, a fellow bookworm friend of mine found this little nook where we can surround ourselves with books lined up against the walls and not have to worry about sneaking some food away from the librarian. So, at the expense of my incredibly poor eyesight and thick-as-waffles glasses, let me just point out a few reasons why books are simply the best things in life.

Why Should You Read a Good Book?

Tweedle Book Cafe at 106B Sct. Gandia, Diliman, Quezon City. Call them at +63922-8051688.:)

Boyfriend vs. Husband

The new year always brings some fresh perspective into anyone’s life. In my case, 2015 is shaping up to be a great year to appreciate my husband more.

In this short-short post, I’m just gonna go ahead and list down a few of the small, mundane things that have changed now that I am married.

1. When we were still boyfriend and girlfriend, he would lean over to kiss. Now that we’re married, he leans over to fart.

2. We used to text all day about sweet nothings. Now we text about what’s for lunch.

3. Goodbye, sexy outfits that take forever to complete. Hello, lounging around the house in comfy sleepwear all day.

4. In the movie theater, we used to cuddle while watching the film. Now, we either eat like ravenous kids or fall asleep.

5. Fights then: “You said WHAT?” Fights now: “Who had the last gulp of soy milk in the fridge?”

The bottom line: I love married life. I thank God for my hubby every day. I wake up with a smile on my face when I see him beside me each morning, sleepy and disheveled and just as unglamorous as I am.  And whenever he looks at me or smiles at me or does whatever it is that drives me insane sometimes, I just know that he loves me more and more each day.

Which is perfect, really. Because I feel exactly the same way.

How to Cook Steamed Fish with Soy Sauce (Chinese Pan-To Style!)

When I was a kid, I hated going to huge family reunions. There were always too many people to hug, too many oldies to kiss, too many faces to smile at (and half of them I didn’t even recognize). It would always be held at these traditional Asian restaurants, with the big round tables and the intricate designs of dragons/peacocks/whatever symbols that signify good luck. And then there are the fish.

The live fish, swimming along in their little tanks in the corner, all happy-go-lucky and oblivious to the fact that they will soon be snatched up and served as delicacies in their short lives. Looking at them on the other side of the tanks as a little child, I felt a twinge of sadness in my heart.

Of course, over the years, I’ve come to love family reunions. Growing up, you realize that amidst all the challenges and trials you go through in life, there’s one thing that’s always constant—family. And all these smiling faces gathered together just prove to me how wonderful it feels to have a tight group of people who will always love you no matter what.

And the fish—the innocent and ultimately doomed fish—have now found a place not just in my heart, but in my stomach. I just love the taste of steamed fish with light soy sauce served up in these restos.

My photography skills are a disgrace. But the fish is good---promise!

Unfortunately, I do not have enough money to keep dining in fancy restaurants just to get a taste of that elusive fish. So, despite my amateur kitchen status, I’ve decided to learn how to make them at home.

How to Cook Steamed Fish (Simple, Can’t-Mess-It-Up-Because-I’m-A-Noob Version!)

How to Win Every Argument in Your Relationship

My father-in-law is harboring chickens in our house.

Caged in their bamboo homes with that distinct poultry smell, the chickens would cluck away in the most ungodly hours and attract all sorts of flies and crawlies nearby. They’re cute, though, the chickens. They would poke their heads at us every once and a while, and the little kids just love them whenever my husband’s brothers come visit.

What’s weird though is that they’re all hens, all of them. And as I stand there in the garage looking at them, these female chickens pecking at the floor with no mates to call their own, I feel a certain twinge in my chest.

My mother always said that she and my father fought all the time because of their Chinese zodiac signs. He was a “rooster” who liked to crow at her nonstop, and she was a “dog” who barked all the time. But we had a dog, too, once. He didn’t seem too happy to be alone, either.

Despite all the fighting and the tears and the storming out and the pain, we all need our relationships—arguments and all.

Now that I’m married, I’ve come to realize even more that regular little spats are normal. Sometimes, the issue is big or small and they come and go and resurface even though we think they’re long buried. While arguments will always be a part of married life (or any relationship for that matter), it doesn’t hurt to spare yourselves the pain, does it?

There is no one surefire way to win an argument. It all really depends on what you mean by “winning”. In fact, if all you really care about is winning an argument with your beloved, then you probably shouldn’t even be in a mature relationship, right? But for those who want to emerge victorious in different ways after a fight, following these steps guarantees that you’ll never have to “lose” an argument with your significant other ever again.

How to Score an Epic Win in an Argument

Sweet Ground Pork or Minced Lumpia Filling

Big and brown and ugly, there it was.

The cockroach.

On my mousepad.

Chillin’.

I had to scream for help because I’m a big sissy. My husband came to the rescue with a slipper in his hand and a look of determination in his eye. He marched in there, a soldier armed for battle, and—as I cowered in the corner of our room—he whisked the pest away to its dizzy death.

My hero.

Moments later, as he was dousing the thing with alcohol to make sure it stayed dead, I stood there pondering just how I would react if my own kid was afraid and it was up to me to protect him from the big, bad roach. I really ought to toughen up if I want to be a good homemaker.

That and my cooking. I need to be passable at cooking.

How to Make Sweet Ground Pork or Minced Lumpia Filling

What to Expect at the Pre-Cana / Marriage Interview with Your Priest

SMACK!

Startling. That was the sound that echoed throughout the court when my husband hit the shuttlecock. I watch him squint his eyes, lunge forward, and swing his racket. The umpire raises his hand a final time—they’ve won. His peers all turn to look at me with smiles on their faces.

“Inspiration,” they tell me. “Everything’s possible when you’ve got a personal cheering squad.”

A personal cheering squad. That’s me. It’s my hubby’s badminton tournament for their architect chapter, and I’m sitting at the bleachers holding his towel for him. Everybody’s reaction for the day: “You guys are married? But you look so young!”

We get that all the time, and it’s a compliment, really. In fact, that was exactly what our priest said when we went in for our marriage interview. And when you’re sitting at the parish office and your excitement is filled to the brim at the prospect of getting married, that’s really not something you expect to hear.

We were not prepared AT ALL, because we had no idea what to expect. We ended up attending two interviews with different priests and had to answer forms with “no cheating”. We really wish we’d known what would happen beforehand, so to keep anyone else from making the same mistake, here are some handy tips for you engaged couples out there:

What to Expect at the Pre-Cana Interview with Your Priest

Why Spending Some Alone Time is Good For You

My trusty little pink notebook? Check. Multi-colored pens? Check. That paperback book that’s been on my nightstand half-read forever? Check.

I close my eyes. Breathe in, breathe out. I’m alone.

And I smile.

I had another opportunity last night to hang out at this quaint little place called Press Café over at the new Promenade in Greenhills. I’ve always loved Fully Booked, and I think the idea of opening up a book-themed café filled with the smell of books around me is just absolutely brilliant.

I’ve been overwhelmed with fertility treatments, new clients, and article deadlines for the past month. It’s been a long while since I had some quiet quality time to myself. And last night, I rewarded myself by snuggling in the corner of a cozy café with only my own thoughts as my companions.

Two hours is simply not enough.

Why It’s Awesome to Have Some Therapeutic “Me Time” Every Once in a While

How To Fry An Egg Without Burning It To A Crisp

Never in all of history has a fried egg been cooked so horribly.

I always tend to burn my eggs for fear of undercooking them and giving my dear husband salmonella. But this usually results in me serving him a plate of burnt eggs, and I can only imagine how terribly forced his smile is at me every morning.

The fried egg is basically the simplest and most amateur dish anyone can ever cook. Even kids are experts at it, and practically anybody who can handle a pan can do it flawlessly. Of course, because I’m such a culinary noob, it’s only natural that I suck at even the simplest of recipes.

But after countless ruined breakfasts and morning mishaps, I’ve finally found some methods that work. No longer will my hubby have to suffer through washing down my horrid eggs with a hurried glass of milk.

How To Fry An Egg Without Burning It To A Crisp

How to Cook Japanese Sukiyaki Beef at Home

Here's yet another one of my kitchen misadventures in my never-ending quest to be a good homemaker! I've always been fascinated with Sukiyaki Beef in Japanese restaurants, and thanks to my super awesome cousin who taught me how, I can now cook homemade sukiyaki beef for my hubby.

Japanese Sukiyaki Beef Recipe

How to Be a Good Wedding Guest

After months and months of losing sleep and sweating it out on a guest list, my hubby and I finally had a perfect seat plan for the reception. You can imagine just how much a guest wanting to bring an unexpected plus one to the wedding made us want to rip their throats out.

Thankfully, most of our wedding guests were amazing people who made our wedding day extra special because they were all just wonderful. We love them all so, so much. :)

We were very lucky with our wedding guests, but most couples are not as fortunate. Unruly wedding guests can be a pain. Being one of the first among my peers to get married, I am now witnessing the steady stream of my friends getting hitched one by one. And if you don’t want to be blacklisted as a horrible guest that nobody will want to invite ever again, read through these tips.

How to Be the Model Wedding Guest of Any Couple’s Dreams

How to Make Homemade Gyoza

I love Gyoza. These little potstickers have always delighted me whenever we visit Japanese restaurants, and finally, when hubby and I got lost in Johor, Mayasia one time, we stumbled upon this cozy little gyoza kiosk that made us fall in love with gyoza even more. I actually planned to sell them as a business, and now I can finally start, thanks to my incredibly talented cousin who taught me how to make these Japanese delights.

Homemade Gyoza Recipe

The Most Annoying Airplane Passengers Ever

Seat reclined. Jacket draped over our bodies. Snuggled together. Hands entwined.

My husband and I were settling in as the plane took off. Then, when we were just about to close our eyes for a quick nap during the hour-long trip, she started moving. The woman seated beside my hubby.

She was rapidly rocking her head side to side, her eyes closed, her brows knit together. Her hands were raised. Her feet were kicking.

For a split second of horror, we thought she was being possessed.

She was just stretching, though. Sure. That’s what she was doing. Minutes later, she started chanting something. Out loud. With feelings. She didn’t even have earphones on or anything.

On the weirdness scale of weird airline passengers, she definitely takes the cake.

But that’s not all there is to be wary of.

The Worst Airline Passengers You Will Ever Have the Misfortune of Flying With

How to Care For Your C-Section (But Not Really) Scar After Surgery

If somebody had told me years ago that I would stop wearing bikinis by the age of twenty-five, I would have laughed at that guy’s face. Not that I’m that mean—to laugh at someone’s face and stuff—but it’s just hard to believe, is all.

Of course, how could I have known I would get an ovary sliced out smack in the middle of my quarter-life crisis?

Yes, I had a huge three-headed Hidden Mickey cyst removed (you can read all about it HERE) two years ago, and as a result, I had to say goodbye to my tiny string swimsuits because, heaven forbid, I wouldn’t want anyone to get grossed out by the big fat scar across my belly.

Sure, I can still pull off my cute two-pieces at the beach every now and then, because hell yes, scarred people are beautiful. Still, exposing my scar can’t be all that good for it, now is it? It doesn’t help that I’m a major Keloid-former, too.

So if you’ve ever had an oophorectomy (goodbye ovary!), a C-Section, or a sorta-C-Section-but-kinda-not-really-scar-across-your-belly, here are just some tips on how to care for your wound.

How to Bake Homemade Crepe Cake

So I hate baking, but my delightfully wonderful cousin taught me how to make this incredibly delicious treat. And because I'm not into anything too sweet, I just think this crepe cake is perfect. Not to mention it scores me extra brownie points with the hubby.

Baking That Awesome Crepe Cake

How to Hold a Kitchen Knife

I’ve never really cooked in my life.

Being such a huge fan of the Asian Food Channel, I know all the ins and outs of each cooking show and I got by with knowing squat about anything.

But, now that I’m a married woman, and a complete noob, I’ve dabbled a little bit into the mystic arts that happen in the fabled land of The Kitchen. Such wonder, such mystery! What delightful smells that come wafting in from this unknown sanctuary of culinary treats!  And so, filled with eager curiosity, I stepped into the secret world they call Cooking.

The first thing I did was cut myself.

Naturally.

So here I am, fresh with a Band-Aid wrapped around my finger, to tell you how to properly hold a kitchen knife.

What “The Last of Us” Can Teach You About Zombie Survival

Being a Naughty Dog fan, it’s only natural for me to play This 10/10 super awesome game that comes after the three Uncharted games. Even if I don’t particularly have a fondness for zombie games with the exception of Resident Evil 5 (but that was only because of its co-op functionality), I just HAD to play The Last of Us. I just HAD to. And I’m not regretting it one bit.

Okay, since it’s Halloween and all, I’ve decided to post something related to horror or something. So here are a few things I learned from The Last Of Us in case the zombie apocalypse does arrive.

Survival Tips from The Last of Us

How to Clean Old Lego and Remove Pesky Stains

What could be more precious than a little kid playing Lego?

My husband. Playing Lego.

Yes, seeing this grown man's face light up when he gets a new Lego set is like seeing crazy fireworks lighting up the New Year’s Eve sky. Sure, our nieces and nephews can play with whatever they want at our place, but those Legos?

Off limits. Mess them up at your own risk.

Fine; I do find my hubby’s love for the Bane of the Underfoot (have you even STEPPED on a Lego brick before? It is DEATH.) very endearing. I myself have got some childhood quirks that the little kid in me hasn’t quite gotten over yet, and I’m not ashamed of it.

If your husband shares the same passion for the universal brick, or if you’ve got a few kids who just can’t get enough of them, let me share with you my husband’s trick on how to keep your old discolored Legos (damn those UV rays!) looking good as new every day.

How to Clean Stained and Yellowed Old Lego Bricks and Figures (And Retain Their Original Vibrant Colors That Have Faded)

All About APAS: Infertility in Today’s World

When a mother loses a baby back in the day, people would often assume that it just wasn’t meant to be. “The baby wasn’t ready”. “The timing just wasn’t right”, “You can always try again”—these were the most common things that well-meaning friends and family would say to someone who had lost a baby. Left undiagnosed, these miscarriages seemed normal, but now that medical advances have finally looked into these unexplained losses, we have a definite yet extremely complicated answer: APAS. Short for Antiphospholipid Antibodies Syndrome, APAS is now the growing cause of recurring miscarriages and difficulty to conceive in most women today.

It may sound like a lot of scientific mumbo-jumbo, but the bottom line is this—APAS makes baby-making a challenge. It requires patience, emotional strength, a hefty medical budget, and a great leap of faith.

I should know—I have APAS, after all.

What is APAS?

In layman’s terms, what APAS basically means is that a person’s antibodies are sort of on overdrive—they sometimes mistake their own body cells for foreign invaders, hence, attacking them. The antibodies attack all foreign bodies—which includes anything related to making a baby.

It’s true that there are a host of other factors that may hinder a couple from conceiving properly. The woman may have Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome or PCOS, Endometriosis, blocked fallopian tubes, and so on. The husband may also have sperm with decreased mobility or high levels of abnormalities, opening up a different kind of infertility. But APAS is one of the most difficult factors to treat, which is why a lot of couples find themselves becoming disheartened.

Characterized by internal blood clotting, unsuccessful IUIs (Intra Uterine Insemination), and failed IVFs (In Vitro Fertilization), APAS brings a whole new meaning to waiting for the stork to come. Most women who have inexplicable infertility might not be aware that they should consult their medical provider for a series of reproductive immunology tests. These tests will help determine if the patient is indeed positive for APAS—at the very least, they can start getting the proper treatment they need in order to make a healthy baby a possibility.

What does it all mean?

There are five categories when a woman undergoes immunological testing. 

Rainy Day Fix: Moroccan Mint Tea in a Mason Jar

I drink tea every day. No surprise there.

Deliciously soothing, the aroma of freshly brewed tea intoxicates me. With just a single hot cup, I feel relaxed, rejuvenated, at peace.

It’s been raining a lot lately, and there’s nothing more satisfying than sipping away as the raindrops trickle on the window beside me. If I could, I would just curl up and drink tea forever.

Yellowish teeth stains be damned.

I recently discovered that my trusty Ball mason jar can withstand extremely high temperatures, so I’ve been directly pouring boiled water into the jar over the tea bags. I wish my mason jar had a handle, but this would have to do for now.

My personal favorites are the STASH Moroccan Mint Green Tea, STASH Orange Spice Black Tea, STASH Cascade Mint Herbal Tea. There’s really not much to this entry. Just a general appreciation of tea in all its refreshing glory. J

How To Make Matcha Green Tea

My journey is at an end—I have found the perfect matcha green tea powder at the supermarket.

For months I have been scouring the beverage aisles of major grocery stores, poring over each foreign label on the shelves of the Asian goods section, wondering if I will ever succeed in my seemingly futile quest. I have spent wasted resources trying out unsuccessful green tea powders, sacrificing my taste buds and disheartening myself with each new brew. Then, finally, when all hope seemed lost, the heavens parted and my redemption presented itself in a blinding light.

The Nittoh Matcha Green Tea Powder.

And yes, when I tasted the tea at home, my eyes welled up—the search is over.

How to Make Matcha Green Tea

Working Up Chronicles: How to Count Your Ovulation Cycle

For everyone who’s trying to get pregnant, we all know it’s not that easy. I used to think it was as simple as bumping uglies, but hey, those who don’t want to have kids are usually the ones who end up getting accidentally preggers, while those who actually WANT to have kids are the ones who can’t. Ironic world, really.

There is a delicate and extremely complicated process called counting-the-days-until-you’re-fertile-again-so-let’s-do-this. And it’s not just doing it whenever you feel like it.

So according to our immunologic fertility doctor, here’s how you should count the days.

Image source: http://thesmiths3511.blogspot.com/2011/04/welcome-to-gator-town.html

Cheesy Potato Balls Recipe

I am a sucker for cheese.

Really. I am not a foodie, nor do I have an appetite of epic proportions. But just cheese up anything and I will DEVOUR it. You have been warned.

But I am also a complete cooking amateur, so everything is extremely simple and based off my estimates from a food magazine that made me hungry the other day.

So here it is, fresh from the pan to my hubby’s delight, a super simple recipe of some soft and chewy cheesy potato balls that are perfect for when you’ve got a case of the munchies.

How to Make Cheesy Potato Balls

I suck at photography, but look at all that cheese!

How He Loved Me

It all started with a pimple.

Glaring and annoying and right there on my face, the pimple was when it all began.

The Working Up Chronicles: How to Deal with Fertility Issues

A.P.A.S.

You have A.P.A.S., they would say. I used to fantasize that it was something cool, something awesome and superhero-ey, like I had a special ability that only a select few in a secret society of agents were chosen to bear.

Turns out, A.P.A.S. is short for Antiphospholipid Antibody Syndrome, and it’s nothing as cool as I was fooling myself it was.

There are varying levels and cases and specifics, but what it simply means for me is that my antibodies are far too intense to the point of rejecting any foreign body, including my husband’s, including any future baby.

Surprisingly, the condition is pretty common nowadays, especially for Fil-Chi couples. (My reproductive immunologist is Dr. Eduardo Lim or Ed Lim in Maddocs for APAS). But in my case, it’s a little bit more complicated because of my PCOS, my Endometriosis, and my Dermoid cyst that may or may not return…let’s just say that it is going to be quite difficult to have a baby just like that.

Still, if you and your husband are working up to add a little bundle of joy into your family, here are just a few tips on how to deal.

When You’re Struggling With Fertility…

How to Remove That Stupid Price Tag Without Leaving a Sticky Mess

It’s the white smush of death.

A shiny cover. The smell of fresh ink on crisp pages that were bound just for you, just so you can sit back and read and weep and laugh and maybe snuggle under the covers and is that a cup of tea on the nightstand?

A new book.

Then you flip it over and there it is, that dreaded little rectangle, marked and barcoded and bearing the amount of money you shelled out for your new baby. That nuisance. That sticky mess.

That price tag.

And in an imperfect world where price tags are mercilessly stuck onto the book covers themselves, it is nearly impossible to remove this stupid sticker without damaging the cover of your book forever.

Life’s just not fair.

For years, I have been struggling to remove the price tags on my precious books without leaving that glaring trace telling me that something was once taped there by a bookstore employee. Sometimes, when the sticker is new, it comes right off. Oftentimes, I’m not so lucky. I either remove it in a flourish but it leaves an annoying rectangular mark where it once was, or worse, bits and pieces of the sticker remain on the book, haunting me forever.

Luckily, my MacGyver husband has a way of removing those pesky price tags without leaving a trace.

How to Remove a Price Tag and the Residue It Leaves Behind

The Skinny Girl’s Guide to Surviving ToyCon

I’ve just finished scrubbing my wrist raw trying to remove the massive stamped ink on my skin.

Shaped like Batman’s head in honor of his 75^th anniversary this year, the stamp on my wrist tells me that I am one of the elite, one of the ecstatic geeks who braved the crowds and survived the annual awesomeness that is ToyCon.

Every year, I buy myself a ticket to gain entry into this hallowed event, this holy haven for those of us with esoteric tastes. And every year, I wind up harassed and bruised, my feet swollen from all the people who’ve stepped on them, and my lovely lady lumps violated (inadvertently, of course).

Gone were the days when I could wear my casual cotton dresses with a trusty pair of Keds and move through the booths with such ease and comfort. Because more and more fans journey to this Mecca of geekdom that is the Megatrade Hall at SM Megamall, it is now impossible to be unprepared and come out of the crowds alive.

Still, I would never miss my annual pilgrimage to ToyCon. All I gotta do is gear up and charge into battle with all the right tools in my arsenal. How else would I be able to score that Fables deluxe edition graphic novel?

That said, if you’re a frail little lady devoid of any significant muscle tone just like me, how do you make it out of there in one piece?

The Skinny Girl’s Guide to Surviving ToyCon

How To Remove The Garlic Smell From Your Fingers

How do they make everything look so easy on TV?

In every cooking show, all the ingredients are lined up clean and neat and all you have to do is whip everything together and smile at the camera. And they make it all look so flawless, too. Nobody ever says that after sweating it out in the kitchen with all the mincing and trying desperately not to cut myself and inadvertently adding a hint of my own DNA-filled flavor into what I’m cooking, I’ll end up all smelly—and not the deliciously smelly kind.

It’s the garlic, really. It’s always been about the garlic.

I, for one, love garlic. But when they stick to my fingers after chopping and stay with me for DAYS, that’s an entirely different story altogether. The garlicky smell lingers on my fingers forever and haunts me in my sleep. Literally. I even feel like it could be stuck to my nose permanently and added to my sense of smell for good.

"One last time." - Uncharted 4 Trailer from E3 2014

What the WHAT?

Now that E3 is here, I am once again in my annual state of excitement that quickly spirals down to depression in a span of a minute. With every new trailer, announcement, and gameplay sneak peek that E3 brings, I am filled with the burning desire to play, replaced in a blinding flash by the realization that the release dates are cruelly too far away. And as I sink down on my knees screaming “why god why” I resign myself to the fact that I will just have to be content with replaying the trailers over and over again until my husband tells me I need help.