i really want this shirt

... if only I lived in a world where ideologies are judged based on their merits and demerits, not on what cultures have devolved them into.

Not that I'm socialist - I'm just sayin'.

For diehards, Cotton Factory has it.

back with a vengeance

Alright so I'm not quite walking yet, but the bruises are almost de-colored and I am perhaps a week away from my first few steps again (my ankles are weak as a baby's)

In any case, here's what has been bothering me while I peruse the world, in the eyes of a foodie:

1.) Paula Deen's Lady's Brunch Burger


They should make it law to place nutritional information even on online recipes. Watch the video on the website if you want! this is just sick. Parsley-laced burger, eggs, bacon, and to top it off, some sweet sugar glazed Krispy Kreme-ish doughnuts.

Insane.

And, love the southern accent. This one's for David.

(Update: watch the video; ladies, watch and learn (towards the end) - this is all men really want from you, just eat your heart out and we'll be really happy :) )

2.) If you can't get enough of that, this website's for you.

Enjoy!

Post-surgery: Day 3

So I forgot to keep score yesterday.

Two straight days of one painkiller each day. Not bad. Took off the dressing yesterday and the dude was bruised like Rocky came over with Mr. T and gangbanged my ankle. The stitches were sexy, though.

However, I lost to my ankle yesterday because I accidentally beared weight on it. Long story short, I was too excited when the Jap food delivery came that I thought everything was ok, and I jumped out of bed with both feet. Not pleasant.

Score so far: Me 2, Ankle 2. Yesterday he won, today's my day, so far.

This is horrible, can't even get to do productive things. When I get back on my feet, get ready for Albert 2.0

Post-surgery: Day 1

This morning, I was determined to type this up, feeling like I have won in my battle against the post-surgery "pains". Well, if I typed this up this morning, it would have been a whole different story.

Foreshadowing: I just took a pill of Oxycodone. (Which means if there are any incoherencies in the narration below, I will remedy them upon your pointing them out to me or when I am back to sanity. For the meantime, I am playing Remember the Time by MJ in the background. Psychadelic indeed.)

Surgery was smooth, I was given sedatives and spinal anaesthesia, which is actually less scary than I thought it would be (or it sounds). I woke up I think 15-20 mins into the hour-long procedure and never fell back to sleep, but I was numb from the waist down so that was ok. Some snippets of what I overheard from my half-awake, groggy state:

(1) "See, there's the bone" - doc

(2) Blood pressure being taken periodically, me turning my head to check my own BP. I thought that was awesome.

(3) Some kind of respirator on me

(4) When the thing was over, I talked to my doc with whatever coherency was left in me: Now I may have dreamed this, but I thought he dangled a small clear cup containing the piece of bone that was removed submerged in water. I cannot verify this, but I thought that was also cool that I got to remember this.

(5) I think they were also taking pictures of the surgery, which they will show me at my post-op appointment on Sept. 1. (Sorry for the squeamish, if you made it to this point you are a true friend.)

So, recovery room after an hour of ankle arthroscopy, bone removal, debridement, (the bone graft was not done because the cyst was apparently too hidden)

They made sure my bladder was working, and i was out by 9:45pm. Amazing, just like LASIK: Operating room at 4pm (I'm sure because I was watching "Closing Bell" with Maria Bartiromo when the anaesthesiologist came in), out on the streets with a reconfigured ankle hours later.

So I went to sleep last night, not too bad.

Woke up, not too bad. Kept my ankle elevated and all that - iced my ankle 3 times, all that RICE stuff.

And then the afternoon came, and the dude throbbed like Popeye's forearms.

So all that being said, not bad for a first day. World, you keep count for me: 1 Oxycodone at 7pm. Don't want to overdose on this thing.

Another sign that I am groggy now: Pandora just played Lionel Richie's "All Night Long" and I didn't even flinch. Next song is Prince's "Kiss". Not too bad, I like this selection.

I'm gonne leave today with the one thing that's been running through my mind the past few days:

Please, don't mistake narrow-mindedness for simplicity. The world needs more simple people, and it has too many narrow-minded people; just ask the ozone layer.

Today's result

Bert: 1, Ankle: 1 (Draw)

pre-surgery requests

hey world. I was informed by my doctor that the procedure that I will undergo is 99.9% risk-free. As an actuary, it is normal for me to point out the "black swan effect" inherent in that: 99.9% means there is a 0.1% risk of infection. (dun dun dunnn)

According to the RP-2000 by the Society of Actuaries, there is a 0.000366 chance that I will survive this year, which is a much lower probability than what my doctor gave me (as what I would presume is a rounded number given to appease insurance-covered foreign students who are better off chewing on traditional medicine, i.e, shredded lizards tail rubbed on the extremities of the left ankle)

in short, this surgery raises my mortality risk considerably.

gasp.

With that in mind, let me speak my mind one more time, before my ankle has to be iced and elevated above heart level over a few days.

1.) The man who is guilty of groping Minnie Mouse should be sentenced to 100 days of service, but not just any kind of service. He is to:
(A) Pay off his debts to society by buying Wimpy a hamburger everyday, which Wimpy will not need to pay back on Tuesdays.
(B) Become Fred Flintstone's personal chef (bronto burgers everyday. good luck on that), AND
(C) In a reality show type performance measure, he will have to devise a 100-day fitness/diet regimen to bulk up Olive Oyl. For goodness' sake she needs to eat things beyond Popeye's leftover Spinach.

2.) My dad should be awarded the Nobel Peace Prize for raising me and my family. Now I know what he has had to go through the past 24 years. Nothing easy - he is a real-world martyr.

3.) I have always wanted to be in the frontpage of a tabloid for something completely outrageous and ridiculously untrue. Like: "Chua smuggles bucket of extra crispy chicken in his underwear: is he evading taxes???" Something like that.

4.) If I were President, I would unite the world under one currency: coconuts. Then the Philippines would be one of the world's greatest economies (Sorry, Antartica; in the meantime, you're welcome, homeland).

and finally

5.) What happens to all the graphic tees in my closet once I sign up for a full-time job? It's not like I can wear a shirt with a monkey on it on a Saturday afternoon, and of course not at church. And what about those jeans? WHAT NOW? That's why children are so expensive to raise: they change sizes considerably, and they buy stuff that they HAVE to HAVE, and that they eventually have ZERO use for (BAH forget about sentimentality, everybody knows that you have a chest of memories gathering dust and mites in the attic. Everybody has one. The concept of a chest is a memoir by itself.)

That's why all I keep is my birth certificate. I wanna keep my life simple: the next important piece of personal document, I will not live to see.

These are the kinds of things that go into my head before I go to sleep.

Ah, 12:03am. The pre-surgery fast has begun.