how to not get sick

is it rocket science? is it the theory of relativity? no. but how come we still get sick?

for starters, as long as we breathe, as long as we go outside and see other people, as long as we touch each and everything else that other people, who have exclusive membership to the ewwww country club; touched, we will be exposed to germs.
depending on our immune system, we either can resist or easily catch certain diseases. too bad it does not apply to catching fish, game for tonight’s dinner, and richwithnorelativesorexesandreadytodie men.
it honestly is a no brainer, especially when it comes to the common cold. as it is easy to spot, we stay away from someone who has it. we don’t shake hands with them after a really hearty sneeze and they covered their mouths with their hands. if it is someone we are close to, no pda until it clears. absence does make the heart grow fonder, if we give it a chance.
there are all kinds of vitamins and minerals  in the market they are hawking to keep us healthy. we don’t really have to take all of them because believe me, by the time we are done taking all of them, we are dead from water toxicity. we just need to make sure our diets are of healthy food, we exercise, and we meditate.
handwashing is really important too. (does that mean people born with no hands are lucky? sorry i had to go there. some readers are just that smart!) by no means. like i said, if we breathe, that means we have a nose and lots of diseases are airborne. but those transmitted by contact are just as bad. proper hand washing prevents the transmission of these diseases. it only takes 20 seconds.
what is 20 seconds compared to being sick? worse, if there is a rearranging of letters and in the very accent of John Lequizamo, de-cease-ed?
an ounce of prevention is better than a pound of cure. definitely not rocket science.
xoxo, Josie

how to have an amicable parting

Classics 101: Great Expectations

emphasis on the EX. because no, we are not taking about the book, although the author, charles dickens, plays quite a part. the first four letters of his last name anyway.

pretty much, if we are in the female gender of the homo sapiens species, we have experienced one or two ex-es from hades. or gehenna. or h-e-double hockey sticks. there’s the dreamers, always talking about the ideal job and how much money they would make someday, but never could hold a job, so even if we are on the thin side, we are milking cows. there’s the testosterone loaded ones who wait for us to get dressed then take us down, so if they had not invented the pill we would be pregnant everyday! there’s the light handed ones who think slapping and roughing a woman around is a pro sport. we might as well be paid at the boxing training place. there’s the over jealous one that would even get jealous of our cats or dogs. oh no, not a wag of the tail!
or, they would be all of the above in one man. God help us!
so, how do we prevent ourselves from being primetime news of the found dead kind? two words: tact and diplomacy. and women, thanks be to God, are in abundance of it. we could use it to our advantage. make it really sound like it’s us and not them. that they deserve better. that we would be better as friends. and whatever wile it is we could think of. but parting amicably would add years to our lives.
it’s just a battle of testosterone and estrogen. hey, if women could take the pain of 28 broken bones when having a baby the natural way, if we could have five or so days of the month while young on the red dot, and if we could deal with hot and cold sweats come menopause, we could rule the world.
wait, we already do!
xoxo, Josie

classics 101: The Hobbit

excuse me for the wrong spelling. wrong vowel, extra b. it should be spelled the habit. the word which could be a last name, and the ONLY first names it could have would be either good, or bad.

habits are pretty hard to break, because some of them had been with us since we were born – burping and farting indiscriminately, for example. but we will limit ourselves today to that habit that bury us upside down if we are not careful:
the habit of owing. america is known to immigrants who have come here in rat infested ships, wheels of airplanes, dump trucks turned into boats, and airless containers, as the land of opportunity. it will quickly turn into the land of
OWE-portunity if we are not careful.
the first mistake is always not saving. the paycheck is never enough. that would easily be fixed if we never, EVER, live above our means. if we look around us when we get home today, and look at all the things we bought and don’t even glance at anymore, let us tell ourselves, that would’ve been money in the bank.
dusty dvds, anyone?
second mistake? credit cards. once we sign up for one, our mailboxes would be flooded with others. true, we need to build up our credit to get to the big leagues of buying cars and homes. but there is a way that we would not be buried with finance charges, especially store cards, and never getting out of the in the red zone. the way to do it is, we get one that one we could pay off the next month and one that we can pay off over the amount due. that way, credit builds up and it would not be overwhelming.
there are many more mistakes that we always rationalize with – “but i work so hard! i deserve all of these!” that is true! but if it causes us sleepless nights and a very bad phobia of the mailman, that’s not good. eating out a lot, buying that expensive coffee with names we can’t even pronounce, getting groceries and stuff without a list, (or even with a list, go beyond), and many more, are other culprits. we’ve made bestselling authors on books on these topics, when we know deep in our hearts we have the common sense enough not to overspend.
if we already are in this situation, the best solution is, don’t owe anymore. pay off existing debts first. if employed full time, get that 401k going. if at 50 or so, we are in el nido sipping drinks with the little paper umbrellas for itty bitty slobber rain, ours hopefully, you will thank me.
now stop singing i owe i owe so off to work i go. snowhite is awake.
xoxo, Josie

on weird questions

i’ve been asked all kinds of questions from how’s your day? to what are you?. it’s usually easy to answer how’s your day with “hwe” or blah, especially if someone asks me this question just about everyday. what are you i was asked way back, and i felt so smug when i answered, a human being. i know she, (of course it was a she), was asking about my ethnicity. it has been my experience that it depended on which store i was, and i would be always be mistaken as an employee because of the way i look. so anyway, i gave this lady a short history lesson, and a little manners lesson.

water under the bridge, that. this last weekend though, i was asked a question i actually was at a loss to answer. me? who always had a smart answer to just about everything. especially when i’m wearing my witty thong. the question? hi! what brought you in here today? by a girl in a candle and lotion shop. it was almost a give me a password or you can’t come in question. i squeaked out, the smell?
must’ve been the right answer or close to it because i got away scot free. actually i was just following my daughter who had gone in earlier while i put some purchases from another store in the car. i don’t know why i did not give that answer instead. the smell? what a lame answer. if that girl had been anywhere like me, she’d probably queried back, of what? then a whole can of worms would have sprung open out of medusa’s head. smell of feet, dirty undies, fried dried fish. anything else but candles.
so, until now, i still have ptsd from that question. i hope there would not be a next time.
what brought you in here today? seriously?

true love

first dates. we all want it to be perfect – right dress, great make up, cosy place, gq cover looking date. it’s going really well, you just can’t stop staring at his beautiful eyes and piano keys choppers. with matching deep throated voice that sends chills down your spine especially that he is the only one who seems to say your name the way you want it. he also looks at you deeply and doesnt seem to notice the other women batting their damn those are loonggg lashes at him.

not bad for a first date, huh? then, just as soon as you’re sure he’s gonna call again for a second date, a horrible sound disturbs the whole ambiance. a sound that could never be mistaken for anything else, especially if it is accompanied by a smell that could uproot someone’s nose hairs. a teeny tiny whistling kettle that seemed to marry a french horn.
he laughs and and he laughs. and you are beet red and choking on your own embarrassment. hoping the restaurant is on a sinkhole and it decides to open right at that moment.
he has tears in his eyes. yours just refuse to focus as they are still under the influence of your very unsympathetic nervous system. fight or flight? you’re in between. that spaz of air that let go without permission seemed to come with crazy glue gluing your butt to the chair.
the night finally ends and he takes you home. a polite kiss as he still giggles. and you definitely know he is never gonna call again.
but guess what, a number of dates still follow, and 8 children after, this man still worships the ground that you walk on.
true love. this.
xoxo, Josie

why we can’t blame men for menopause

so, i had a flat tire. g.i. jane that i thought i was, i googled how to change a tire, the girly girl way. unrolling my nonexistent sleeves, i started to do the job. when i put the thingamabob on the whatchamacallit, it would not budge. i think if i had hemorrhoids at that time they would have popped. so that was that. my landlord came home, he saw what was happening, and rolling his existent sleeves, he easily changed my tire.

my thoughts of being independent, and never needing any man in my life flew out the 1974 leaky windows. and then of course, who fixes my car when i have car trouble? a man, or men. if it blew a gasket, i don’t even know what the dang thing looks like. i wish i were my favorite character in the movie my cousin vinny played by marisa tomei. then i would not need a man to fix my car.
what about plumbing? and electric wiring? there are jobs that only men can do. i have to give them that. construction. there’s another one. i could not picture myself with that tool belt. probably heavier than me and taller than me, it would be walking by itself with me somewhere around being dragged.
without men, it would only be struation. it does not sound right at all. sorry, i’m struating today. without men, it would only be prestrual cramps. it sound like it hurts even more. without men, it would only be opause. opaused to what?
let’s admit it, we need men. and channing tatum, is a man.

on the subject of teeth

no one likes to talk about teeth, except the dentist and his hygienist. why wouldn’t they? them teeth, brushed, flossed or not, pay for the golf clubs and hair extensions.

so my mom tells me God asked her one day to choose – teeth or hair? and she chose teeth. and now she only has about 33 strands of hair on her head but minus a couple of molars, she has a complete set of teeth. at 85. she has been asked where she got her dentures from by other senior and not so senior citizens. and for her answer, she would arrange a sort of chest bump with her upper and lower teeth. case closed. and the best of this narrative? she has not even gone to a dentist for cleanings, except for those two times she had the molars extracted. her mouth hygiene just consists of brushing her teeth after every meal, and sometimes maybe a toothpick for some stubborn in between the teeth food particle. unbelievable? yes. especially that her mother had pyorrhea and lost all her teeth early in life, and for the rest of it, gummed the toughest meat in the market. she must have gotten more of her father’s teeth genes, as i remember grandpa still also had teeth in his 80’s; just that they were as yellow as the sun.
how can we keep up with genes and oral hygiene? here’s how, and you will thank me if at 90 you are still eating potato chips. first up, ordinary dollar store soft bristled toothbrush. for two minutes, brush your teeth with no toothpaste, in sweeping in and sweeping out motion per section of teeth. experts believe this removes more plaque. then you can use toothpaste for that fresh feeling. and while you still have toothpaste in your mouth, this is the time to floss. yes, floss. don’t be stingy on the length, as a new section of the floss has to be used per in between teeth. when done, use the tongue scraper. you wouldn’t believe the gunk you would get off the weirdest  muscle in the body.
so we get to the rinse part. water first till all the toothpaste is gone, then some minty mouthwash. any brand will do, according to what you prefer. if you only want to use mouthwash once a day, that should be fine.
there, no one will ever fault you for having the freshest breath and being the star patient at the dental clinic! and like i said, when you are still chomping on potato chips in your nineties? you’ll be saying, thank God for that Josie!
xoxo, Josie

How to lose weight the easy way (according to Josie)

did you hear? the blue men team has a new member. me. they might scramble to change the name to blue people team because my anatomy is completely different from theirs. nothing hangs.

kidding aside though, i am just referring to my face being blue, and just figuratively. why? because, i am blue in the face trying to tell people trying to lose weight how to do it the easy way.
before saying what it is though, let’s have a run down how people get to be obese. one day we’re in a single bed, and the next, we wake up in a king bed. how’d that happen?
i know that the hardest to deal with is when it is a “gland problem”. sometimes the body doesn’t know when to stop and the next thing we know, the firemen have to break the whole bedroom wall to take us out. so we will rule this out. we will just indulge ourselves with the ones we could really deal with without a bariatric specialist.
i am a firm believer of conspiracy theories. one of them is the food industry – make everything bigger. how would they do that? steroids in meat, miracle grow in plants. the intakers of those would have the tendency to super grow too, right? then of course, with obesity comes the medical problems – diabetes, heart disease, etc. doctors and drug companies rake in the dough, pun intended. along with them the authors of self help books, the diet food companies, and personal trainers with hourly rates that would feed a family in a third world country for a year. scary, isn’t it?
so now, i can share my experience. i grew up being a toothpick. i could not gain weight if my very life depended on it. like that corny  joke, if a stood sideways and stuck out my tongue, i would be a zipper on halloween. no amount of vitamins, and extra milk and food that my mom pumped into me made me gain weight. when i had menarche, that is, when i first had my monthly irritant, my mom thought i would then gain weight. she was wrong. when i got pregnant with my children, all two of them, my mom said that finally i was going to gain weight. again she was wrong. the most number of times she has been wrong as she was never wrong in anything. i gained the textbook weight, and lost them the very day i came home from the hospital. back to being a zipper. my face used to be so hollow, add my inherited dark spots under the eyes, and one person very short of tact actually made a comment that i looked like i had aids. i did not take offense though, because this very person that said it, excuse my mean streak, could easily pass for a blowfish in its blowing phase. another woman, also devoid of tact, and also a blowfish, told me one day how flat my behind was. i told her, i’d rather have my butt like it was and not like hers that stuck out  like a window unit air conditioner.
lifting a patient got me a herniated disc right after. God does not like ugly. my very good looking breath stopping doctor put me on steroids. i avoided surgery but i ate everything in sight and i gained some 20 lbs! and kept it! yeah! finally!
but here comes the late forties. slowly but surely, i started getting a bagel around my belly button. my cheeks filled, and my arms, hips, and thighs actually had meat in them.
still couldn’t catch up with jlo though.
then in a hiatus from work, i went home to the land of the pork. from whole roasted pigs to shaky pork fat in all kinds of dishes. i actually gained 20 more pounds. i had to buy new clothes as i did not fit in my old clothes anymore, and if some of them still did fit, i had muffin tops that i couldn’t have with my coffee and a beer belly protruded. the sad part? i don’t drink beer.
so i came across this weekend diet. it would only be done on weekends and i could eat anything i want during the week. i didn’t really count how many weekends i did the diet, but soon my weight came back down to 102; from 120. talk about numerical dyslexia.
the best part, the muffins tops went away, although the bagel stayed. eh, i credit my over fifty metabolism. it’s a trademark, along with cellulite and brown spots.
that all said, here’s how the diet is done: saturday and sunday: for breakfast, two boiled eggs. for lunch, a slice of chicken, pick your favorite part, and sautéed or steamed vegetables. for dinner, a slice of fish and ramen noodles. not bad, huh? no snacks or sugary drinks either. it really is easier to stick to this diet because it’s only for two days a week, and the rest of the week is the usual foodstuff.
it is worth a try. i am living proof. just a note though; i became a chickenarian and gave up pork and beef, and the body knows. i developed an aversion to meat, and it is more pleasant in the bathroom as this diet does not produce smelly by products anymore.
meanwhile at walmart…
xoxo, Josie

in my happy valentine!



what are the odds that friday the 13th would be the day before valentines? uhhhh scary! in 24 hours we go from jason to cupid! from machete to love arrows! from scary hockey goalie mask to chubby cheeks! from dickie pants to cloth diaper! let me stop.

in a way, it works out fine for those who are so anti valentines they have heart shaped pinatas and a baseball bat to hit it with. they have singles parties where they share horror stories about dates; both blind and seeing, (so tempted to add eye dogs here, but oops i did!). nothing wrong with that. someday they could just jump into another party singing praises about valentines because yes they have found The One!
but let us be fair. lots of holidays are hyped mostly for commercial purposes. the card industry alone? the flowers? party stuff? billion dollar industries. they actually have cards for everything including happy divorce. they have party stuff for that too. and they have perfected black roses for the same reason. january comes and all the stores turn red with hearts and ribbons and everything heart shaped. after valentines, they turn green, for st patrick’s day. (don’t remind me, getting sloshed in london on st patrick’s day? scary spice!) anyways, we know the drill.
then we turn mushy. there is only one day in the 12 month/365, 366 if leap year calendar to be extra romantic. we take such advantage of it. we might get lucky. cupid might just have us in his crosshairs, er, bullseye. if we’ve already been hit, it’s the perfect excuse to splurge on high end chocolates, or the low end from the convenience store if our mates are somewhat blue on the collar, no offense. it’s the day to put on white sheets still smelling of downy so we could spread some red rose petals on them (poor bald stems!) and worry about clean up later. for those awaiting liver transplants and can’t have alcohol, there’s apple cider to toast in those scary to wash wine glasses. and the restaurants? filled to the brim, and the date night movie with steve carrell and tina fey comes to mind, because we might just need to wear our jackets backwards to get in.
so with all that is going on in the world, we need as many inmyhappy moments as we could. what better day than valentines? move over triskaidekaphobia, we love valentines day!!!
xoxo, josie

Don’t dare to compare



ever heard of the little girl who cried because she had no high heeled shoes until she saw another little girl with no feet? have you been that little girl? or little boy for that matter, only with air jordans?

no worries. we’ve all been. some even as simple as flip-flops. but it’s human nature to always compare ourselves to others. it’s what drives us, hopefully to be better and not the other path.
it starts early in life, doesn’t it? and our poor parents get carried into the pride issue. why do Ashley’s parents give her an iPad for her bday and you don’t for mine? then as we grow from iPads, it’s cars and houses and what have you. guess what? there will always be people better than us, or less fortunate than us, and if we don’t stop comparing ourselves to them, we either walk around with a hermes backpack full of superiority or a raggedy third world basket full of inferiority. and there goes the neighborhood of our lives.
many people have thought of the “the grass is always greener” philosophy. but only a few have realized that really, the real grass gets very, very green when growing over the septic tank. as in, really, if we have been to the boonies where they still have septic tanks. so metaphorically, while we are pining away about how celebrities are so blessed with fame and fortune, we can see how they cannot enjoy privacy anymore like we mere mortals do. tmz and the tabloids own them! fans who take the -atics part of the word have added stalking as part of that problem. do we still want to be celebrities? do the gowns and bling they wear at awards shows make up for all the troubles? we don’t think so. oh the luxury of having to go to supermarkets and other public places sans make up and in our sweats! that can’t be bought with all the millions in the world.
true, there are aspects of money that would make grapes sweeter. being able to buy something without even thinking how much would be left in our debit cards, being able to help a friend in need without expecting to be paid back, paying it forward anywhere granting the recipients are not serial tug-at-the-vulnerable-heartstings-of-others-using-their-children at burger king. but if we want to buy an outfit because we think we rock it better than the girl in the other cubicle, mr demon called pride destroys the whole thing. if we give because someone might be filming it and it might go viral online, same thing.
do we still dare to compare? we are unique human beings, if we haven’t noted that yet. we can fart all the way to august in tuba or flute form, and no one else could do it. so why do we even dare to compare?
xoxo, josie