Leav & Misadventure

I had my copy of Love & Misadventure signed by the poet herself ten days ago. To my delight, Lang Leav was flown over to Manila for a little book tour... which I of course took advantage of because the chance of seeing your favorite author is as fat as that cellulite I see on your leg right now. Or leg hair if you don't have cellulites. I don't know what the heck is wrong with me. I've been seeing "cellulites" for the past week in these freaking website ads and now I can't stop typing it. Stop me! Cellulite. No!! Cell-- no. No, Rainy. No.

I didn't have time to work on these photos on the computer so it took me more than a week to edit them on my phone. I'm busy with work and I always need to catch up on sleep so I only get to edit when I'm in the bus or a few minutes before I snore. But I know you'll bear with meeee. I wuv you.

I had two options, since she'd be at two Fully Booked branches for two consecutive days. In the end I chose to attend the event that was held on the 8th because I had to file a sick leave from work. I mean a vacation leave hahaha. What person in the right mind would file a SICK leave on a CERTAIN day hahaha I mean "hey employer, I'll be sick on Feb 8 soooo..." hahahahahaha oh my god. Stop. Rainy stop! Anyway, we arrived at like, 9:45 A.M. Or it could've been 8:45. Something-45 and there was already a growing queue. Long before the bookstore opened! So I panicked, because when Ransom Riggs flew here for a similar event, I had a spot and number secured. My boyfriend got there early with his sister. It wasn't that bad though.

We had to roam around to cure our boredom. Oooh I see le boyfie's thumb. Hi thumb. You look... like a thumb.

Herakut-ception! The shirt I was wearing was signed by Herakut and they also did those walls! Awesome right? And yes we're so into attending Fully Booked events held at Bonifacio High Street.

Ayayayayayyy stache!

After securing number for the signing queue, we went out to nom. We went to this place called Slice, which had sexy-looking cakes but I don't recommend you go there if you also wanna take pictures of your food. The lighting is just bad. Although some of their ornaments make up for the bad, yeah, lighting.

If you read my last post, you should know that my girlfriend and I do this Battle of the Drinks thingy where we order unfamiliar beverages and judge who has the better one. I ordered a Milk Stirrer something while he got a dark Belgian something. Sorry, I'm very bad with names and titles so you can't expect me to remember them all.

Hi, rings.

Boyfriend's drink.

My drink and his drink vis-à-vis! In the end, I won. My drink was not very special but his was very.. overhelming? So I won! I won you freaking loser fatcuteheeheebabygirlorboyfriend!! LOSER!

Ehem. Back to the bookshop.

There's Ellia. She didn't buy a copy and was only there to see Lang Leav in person. The funny thing was, Leav was at the same place she was in in that photo, hiding. Niko (the girl or boyfriend)  told me that while the host was reading Lang's intro, a tiny woman in teal was giggling at the words. Of course it didn't take long for them to realize they were standing right beside the poet herself. It was funny because Ellia didn't realize and it was too late when she did. Lang entered the scene!

Well I managed to snag a seat in the front row. Here's the thing, people were already at the area while the crews were fixing the chairs and stuff. Everyone vied for a seat. The second they said "go!", there was squealing and girls were rushing to get a good seat. I, on the other hand, well-trained by my daily MRT travels back in 2012, sat primly and relaxed-ly on the seat that I already marked as mine. No hassle. No nothing.

I also bought a macaron squishy by Breadou!

Lang reading some of her works.

Two zombies.

I wish I had a better spot though because I was somewhere at the side. Front row, but at the side.

Lemony Schniket says hi. And I still don't know how to spell his/her name. He/She very muched enjoyed listening to Lang read her works out loud and I swear I heard him/her sniff a bit. Or was it me? Nah, the people mostly requested friendzone-themed poems, so I couldn't identify with that. What! I'm very much in love. Hehehehe. What?

Signing time!

My booksigning paraphernalia!

Hi, photographer eye.

I look embarrassing in this picture because I felt awkward sitting there waiting for her to finish signing my copy of her lovely book. Then she asked me "how are you doing?" WHICH I FOUND SO HARD TO ANSWER. How are you doing is honestly the hardest question to answer sincerely. I was like, "ah, I'm. I'm!!" HAHAHAHAHAHA.

TA-DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!

We had nothing left to do, Ellia already went home after seeing Lang and she was just pretty much signing some other copies so we went out to grab a bite.

And my three tiny babies were eating, too.

Niko bought a copy of David Rakoff's "Don't Get Too Comfortable". A year ago I bought him a copy of the same title, but my dog Coco decided to go and have a taste to make sure the book wasn't poisoned! So there. He bought himself a copy of what should've been my awesomest gift to him so far. Or, I don't know. I don't know what he considers awesome. I am certain I'm one of them though. Heehee. Aren't I?

THOSE THREE MONSTERS WANTED A TASTE OF MY TRIPLE DECKER CHEESECAKE BUT I SAID NO!!

And here goes my aptitude: bad endings. I will give my macaron squisy a chance to say "thank you for reading" or "I hope you choke on whatever you're eating right now" in black and white.

"Thank you for reading" is so bleugh. Hahaha. I love you though. Marry me? Yes, you. You, reader. Marry meeee. Kidding. No I'm not! Kidding.

Matched - Ally Condie

About time I posted about Matched. I should've done this a long time ago. Like, when the local bookstores were filled with dystopian YA fiction to the brim. Now all I see are erotic novels that don't make much sense to me. Written porn.

So this is Matched, written by Ally Condie. It's the first book off her best-selling trilogy. Heehee. This is going to be another useless post. To be honest I'm blogging about this because errrrr I found the photos in my Picasa album and they're like sho purrdy and green I can't even. Hahahaha. What a waste right? Of course I'm kidding about the "pretty" part. Or... I don't know.

I was supposed to write about my opinions on this book but I changed my mind. And my pretty brown notebook is dying to be seen. I mean the cat. I mean the notebook.

Truth is I just lost all of my savings. And I'm so upset. I'm so sorry.

to ask oneself

Before I went home from work, I've been seeing funny tweets from my friends with #Amalayer hash tags. Another gay lingo gone famous, I thought. Went home to hear everyone yelling "amalayer! amadovegirl!" and I was like please stop already you freaking idiots. To my horror, a very humiliating video of a girl not older than me had gone viral. I don't want to link the video here but...

No. Go find it yourself. Ha.

I checked the hashtag page on Twitter and to be honest the tweets were surprisingly hilarious. Curiosity got the better of me and I found myself watching the video.

Wowwww.

The star of the night was, yeah, the college girl with long hair and a crisp white top. Something happened between her and the lady guard, whatever that was, we'll never know. Now, while watching the video, so many thoughts were swirling inside my head. I wondered how the girl is feeling right now, I wonder if the lady guard felt triumphant or humiliated. I wondered if the gawkers were enjoying the scene. I also wonder if the person who recorded and even uploaded the whole thing feels a bit scared right now. I wonder about so many stuff. At once. By the way, I'm not here to blog about it.

I'm here to blog about my thoughts. My alarmingly hilarious thoughts. My alarmingly disturbing musings that are best kept private. Out of your eyes, out of your mind. They occur mainly when I ride the train every morning, I still can't get over the fact that I stand with fellow females chest to chest (I wanted to put boob to boob lol), elbow to elbow. And sometimes hair to hair. Gaaah I fear for my hair actually! Lice! Arrrgh.

One of the things I thought during the past few days was...

"If I were a pervy lesbo I'd enjoy this," with regards to the extremely cramped space inside the train car. Abominable eh?

To redeem myselft, here's another "Have they eaten breakfast already?"

I've been thinking more and more about other's welfare to be honest. I hate getting off the train because there are so many sidewalk vendors and my own thoughts cloud my judgment. If I see a man selling footwear, I would immediately speculate whether his family had eaten or not, how much had he earned already? Will it be enough for tomorrow? Is it cruel no to buy?

Not to mention the beggars. Then everything just crashes on me and my head would cry. By crying I meant headache. Haaaate headaches.

I'm a deep-thinker, and I muse about the most unexpected stuff. Also, I tend to ask questions that are usually the furthest thing from one's mind.

"I texted you while standing in the queue, why didn't you reply?" a friend once asked.

Then I answered his question with the question ''did the person next to you tried to discreetly read what you were typing?'

I know right.

Here is a collection of essays from my very-much-worshiped writer. I felt so alone until I found out about his works about five years ago.

What, did you think I'd list down his works? Looool. I meant to say "here are the photos" or something similar but my train of thought got, once again, derailed. Actually I was thinking about whether or not to continue blogging.

Sorry for delaying my upcoming giveaway! I meant to write about it today! Maybe tomorrow... I don't know. I'm so busy.

And tired. Good night everybody!

a Book and a Bunny

Fixing Delilah - Sarah Ockler

I had meant to blog about this sweet read a few weeks ago, but things got out of hand.

Read the synopsis...

"Things in Delilah Hannaford's life have a tendency to fall apart. She used to be a good student, but she can't seem to keep it together anymore. Her "boyfriend" isn't much of a boyfriend. And her mother refuses to discuss the fight that divided their family eight years ago. Falling apart, it seems, is a Hannaford tradition. Over a summer of new friendships, unexpected romance, and moments that test the complex bonds between mothers and daughters, Delilah must face her family's painful past. Can even her most shattered relationships be pieced together again?"

This story might ring a bell. Summer romance, broken relationships and all that. It's like watching a real chic flick! What interested me, though, is the redundance of "we all long for what could have been" in the whole story, because that is entirely true and I can certainly relate to that.

We long for what could have been. Although we may feel contented of what we have, we cannot help wanting the stuff we do not possess. I think that's perfectly fine, because what is there to pursue if you don't dream at all?

I'm very uninspired as I write this. I feel like I'm wasting time. Now I long for inspiration. I think I had it... a few minutes ago. Then, zap, gone.. And I'm alternating between writing this and tweeting. Heehee. At this rate, I'm getting nowhere with this book "review". To be honest this post doesn't have a lot of dignity to be called that. So let's drop the "review" thingy. It pressures me!

*clears throat*

All in all, I think the tale was rather nice; medium-paced, veiled in mystery, and heart-wrenching. It did not take long before I became friends with the characters. I think Ockler did not intend to give them too much character, though. (Character can haz no too much characterzzz. Dafuq am I saying omg) That being said, they still did not fail to seem real to me.

I think most teenagers can relate to this, and I recommend this for people who love a short read with a cup of steaming coffee.

Oh wait oh wait oh wait. My baby cousin Caedwyn has a bunny!! Wait I'm gonna post them here...

It doesn't seem like it but I'm now writing this approximately 18 minutes later, and I figured it would be better to write about it in another post. WAIT WAIT NO I CHANGED MY MIND.

Meet... well she doesn't have a name yet. We're waiting for Shiloh to give her a name! At the moment we call her "pappit" (baby-talk for rabbit, I guess).

I love love love her omg I wish she were mine. We just got her yesterday, and it was also my father's death anniversary. My uncle (who bought it because he felt sorry for the vendor and the rabbits who were peddling under the bridge) joked that my dad's spirit might've possessed him, because he actually bought her. He was a great animal lover, my dad. And he valued them for both company and the balance they bring (you know, geomancy).

Bunnies were my obsession, as I've been told. When I was three, I had a pair named Jack and Jill. Jack was gray and Jill was white with red eyes. They said I never really put Jill down unless I ate or did other businesses with my hands. I can't remember how they died but I must've cried... terribly.

This might seem like an advertisement, but I errrr actually used my actions and curves preset to edit these. You can see the before photo of one of 'em here.

Whaat!? I know I know but I can't help it.

Anyway, I'm currently offering sponsorship to interested bloggers, preferably photobloggers. You see, I just opened my shop and if you're interested, just e-mail me with your current statistics (daily traffic, followers, etc) and we'll talk it out.

Toodles.

The Hunting of the Snark

The Hunting of the Snark (An Agony if Eight Fits) is one of my all-time favorite Carroll works. My most favorite being the super obvious Alice's Adventures in Wonderland. I'd first read the whole poem when my late father gave me a handwritten copy to read one summer day.

I was 6, and I probably made a "dafuq did i just read meme" face after that. I never really knew what it meant, although "It was a boojum!" became stuck in my head.

It became my chant. A random noise happens at night, it was a boojum. I didn't hear what my mother said, it was a boojum, then.  For me, everything unknown is and was a boojum.

Oooh Lewis, thank you for the word.

Years later, I found the poem published in a somewhat newer edition (for me, at least) sitting on my friend Carle's desk. I think he bought it out of curiosity and it was left untouched until I went to borrow it.

This one has an introduction by Martin Gardner, with illustrations by Henry Holiday and a bunch of footnotes. Kneenotes, if you consider the length. The illustrations are equally whimsical, and I never knew of their existence! I wish I could blame my dad for missing out on that.

And now I know every line by heart. An amazing poem dedicated to Gertrude Chataway (one of Carroll's best child friends) is included, too.

I'm out of words. Oh if you could see my face right now! I HAVE A FREAKING STY ON MY RIGHT EYE. If anyone asks I say "cockroach bite" because they'd mock me with "OOH HAVE YOU BEEN PEEKING IN THE SHOWER?". Urrrgh it hurts like hell, and this morning I had an eyelash plucked because the elders kept saying that it will help relieve the swelling.

Is it even scientific? Whatever, bye bye sweet eyelash.

I have some news coming up!!! Ta ta for now dudes.

Dystopia and I, Part II

The Handmaid's Tale by Margaret Atwood

Three years after buying a copy (and undeniably forgetting about it for quite a time), I had finally finished it! There are so many things I want to write here and I have no inkling how to start.

The book is clearly a dystopian, set in the '80s or '90s, if I'm not mistaken. It's about the story of Offred (also narrated by her), a handmaid. A handmaid in the Republic of Gilead (formerly known as the USA in the book) is a woman whose job is to lie on her back every month with the Commander and hope that he impregnates her. Handmaids are only valued for their ovaries, as the population of Gilead is at a crisis. They only have three chances, if they fail, they'll be labeled as an Unwoman and will be sent to the colonies. Harsh work and suffering ahead. Ok I find it creepy, the way handmaids and commanders do it. BECAUSE THE WIFE IS THERE LOL. The handmaid lies at the middle of the commander and his wife. Her head on the wife's stomach (legs are also apart) and they hold hands while the beloved geezer of a commander grunts below. It's a sacred ceremony all right. Holding hands signify that the handmaid and wife are one, at least during sexy time.

The commanders and the wives are senior citizens. So seeding the handmaid requires a lot of thrust... oh-oh, I honestly meant to say "trust". Wtf. Back to the book, arrrgh I lost track of what I was going to say!!


My reaction:

Wow. Fuck no. Wow. Huhuhuhuhuhu.

I wrote a post 8 weeks ago about how I don't find dystopian novels exciting. I wasn't lying, but that didn't mean I hated the genre either (as probably mentioned, cross fingers!). Truth is, the reason why I lightly dismiss books written in the said genre is because I can't stand what's happening in the pages. And I'd just found out about that! The Handmaid's Tale made me realize everything I cannot accept.

As you can see, in the book, women are forbidden to read. They live with a heavy chain around their necks and a cluster of thorns for shoes—not literally. There are so many don't's it would be practical to just shut up and remain stupid.

I can't stand it; the oppression and abuse, albeit fictional. I'm all for freedom. Freedom of speech, freedom to have faith in any god you choose, freedom to think for yourself and freedom to look how you want yourself to look like. Isn't it obvious? The way I write, you see, it's carefree. I cuss, I use informal jargons, I don't fuss about my own stupidity that much and I'm usually flat-out honest. I could be humorous or annoying, depending on who's reading my posts. I exercise my freedom by letting myself write the way I want to without thinking about how people would react. I don't mind negative comments that much, getting criticized means you are something... most of the time. But really, you're free to think about what you think of me.

Just imagine living in a country where the only thing you should think of is doing housework, getting pregnant, wearing the same color of clothes every single day, not breaking a hilarious law and shutting up. The first four I can stand, but shutting up!? Okay, my mouth can. But how about my head!? There lives a really annoying blabbermouth who sounds like my own voice but a little older. Sometimes she looks like a jellyfish but I can morph her into something sexier, like a Persian cat.

I speak about my thoughts as if they are detached, disembodied and have their own sense of individuality. They do. OR I COULD BE CRAZY. It's kind of deep, but I do think like that. I always have two or more voices in my head arguing about different angles. That's why I'm good when it comes to debates (loool I've always been the leader). I'm a double-sided thinker.

The way my thoughts continue to form errr... thoughts even if I want to rest can be considered as a form of oppression. A personal one, silent and meek.

Oppression can happen inside your own head, this also means it could happen anywhere.

Wow I'm suddenly sleepy. Wait I really want to finish this. And wtf the dogs started howling and moaning and barking. ARE THEY SEEING A GHOST OR SOMETHING!? Oh noes omg. I'm the only one downstairs wtf scary.

I was heartened by the fact that in a very little way, Offred (the main character, you might have forgotten about her already because of my extreme blabberitiness) rebelled and stuck to her own belief but still found ways to somehow protect herself and her own thoughts. I'm not saying that rebellion is a good thing. But it's not always bad either. What, you're being treated cruelly and you won't even stand up for yourself? You've been accused of something you didn't do and just let them punish your ass?

Rebellion doesn't always mean war or violence. It can be done in small, various ways. Like, when you start arguing about the fact that you're truly innocent and didn't steal your neighbor's underwear; that's rebellion. When your mother prepared a veggie meal but you didn't eat it and bought pizza instead. Guess what? Rebellion.

Rebellion is a real flexible ninja, you won't even notice it's there... most of the time. It can be something good or something evil...

At least that's how I see it. You don't have to agree with me. We could argue if you want to. Loljk.

So yeah.

I enjoyed the book, although I shook my head in disapproval at some pages. It's a precious work of art, I admire the author, Margaret Atwood, for being such a brave soul. Writing something like that is never a piece of cake. I wanna thank her and the book for making me realize how strong the super glue that connects myself and my beliefs together is.

Sorry but I really can't write anymore. So sleepy. It's already 2:08 AM, 8th May. I'm gonna schedule this post though.

The conclusion is, I don't hate dystopians, it's just something that I should take seriously, in my opinion. That means I will not read them for leisure, but rather, for reflecting. I will never flip one open for light reading.

I'm not sure if anyone will read this from start to end but I don't mind, as long as I get these words published. Yeay.

'Til next time, dear reader!

Dystopia and I

I'm going to say this as flat and as emotionless as possible, 'cause I don't want to convey any impression that I'm either glad or resentful with this opinion. This is merely a confession.

Hunger Games doesn't excite me, nor does any dystopian novel, for this matter.

image from here

Let's not jump into conclusion that I wholeheartedly hate the genre, because I don't; I find it interesting, to be honest. But there's something... something which I can't quite put my finger on. (For all I know it could be someone's buttcrack. What? I can't put my finger on it and I don't want to. Whatever blah I just feel like taking idioms literally.)

First, what is Dystopia? "A dystopia is the idea of a society in a repressive and controlled state." —Wikipedia

In other words, a genre where the characters are a part of a society that they don't quite believe to be just. They champion spreading freedom and equality throughout the country, which often results to rebellion, war, and revolution. Whether they achieve what they fight for and believe in I cannot say, for it solely depends upon the author's liking lol so don't expect me to write something about that.

So, back to me not fancying The Hunger Games Trilogy...

I only found out about it last 2010, when my German friend Josie suggested I read it, because her favorite author Stephenie Meyer recommended it on her site. (WHAT? Don't sneer you... you... git. Lol, as much as I hate Meyer's works, I am eternally biased and sensitive when it comes to what my friends love. My love is unconditional!!)

I forgot about it for a year until my best friend Nel's sister Janine started her book-reading mania and suggested with glee and force that we read it too. I couldn't afford a copy at the time so I just picked up their youngest sis Justine's borrowed copy from her school library. Here's the glitch, I only had like 18 hours or less to read it because she was going home the next afternoon and I was like XZCLSOKFDS. But I read it anyway—whilst fearing that I won't get to finish it—and I was done with the book hours before she had to leave.

My reaction? Hmm... so the plot is quite rich—very rich and bold, in fact. In my opinion okay? It's fast-paced and not at all mysterious, mild action and gore but that will do.

I very much adore Katniss, the main character, and her best friend Gale. I don't know why but somehow, I seem to have an unexplained distrust on Peeta. Perhaps it all comes down to the part where Katniss was wondering whether he was trustworthy or just playing a game, so I've had that impression ever since. And no freaking thing could change what I think about him anymore, no matter how gorgeous the actor who played him is.

So yeah I finished all three books in a whip... but I couldn't bring myself to spazz about it on Twitter. I tried okay, several times. But it's just not me.

Janine keeps suggesting trendy dystopians for me to read like Matched, Divergent, et cetera. I read them all right, but no matter what I do to convince myself that they are awesome reads, my heart keeps beating the same fuckboring rhythm it's made to do. No adrenaline, no goosebumps.

I read the HG trilogy again, and again. I actually know the scenes by heart now, but still. I did cry at the character's death scenes because it was so heart-wrenching and unfair. After that... nothing.

That's when I realized that my heart and brain (lol hi brain, you there?) (OH MY GOD WHERE ARE YOU BRAIN PLEASE RESPOND) were not made for that genre. I don't have a soft spot for rebellion and politics, at the very least.

Which brings me to the question... "do I care about politics at all?" I. Don't. Know. Maybe I do, but I don't see it as something I should blab about at the moment. I see it as something passive and ever-there. Automatic, and all. I don't have the excuse of being "too young" because I'm already 18 and I can now vote, come next election. But!! But. Let's not talk about this, at least at the moment.

To dumb it down:

I may care a lot about the genre, but like oil and water, I can't go around treating it as my husband. (which I apparently do to the Harry Potter series lol) (I'M MARRIED TO ROWLING'S BOOKS. FUCK YEAH.)

I hope I made it very clear. The Hunger Games is going to be shown soon! A few more days to go! I'm gonna watch it, you know. Hoho.

Done bambling. Bye. I hope I made my point though.

Demonata: Lord Loss (Darren Shan)

I've been on a reading quest for a few weeks now, I meant to blog about the other stuff I had read, but I feel like writing about what I had read recently. (PS, I meant to sound stupid in this sentence on purpose)

I've had this for years, although I wasn't aware of it. I found it at the back of my books cabinet, leaves still fresh and crisp, the spine good as new. Then I remembered, it was a gift from Shawn, about 4 years ago. Haha sorry dude. As you can see, the cover is violently red, so it was kind of an eyesore for me. BUT, the words inside are what mattered the most, so I read it on the spot. I was tweeting while I was going through the first chapter, and I kept saying it was catchy. It was, is. It's catchy all right. Darren Shan, you know Darren Shan. All cool and devil-may-cry; his characters, I mean. I've spotted some similarities between Lord Loss and Cirque du Freak's main characters' points of view. It's the kind of style that will imprison your curiosity and will make you think "cool dude, cool dude." I just shrugged wtf can you believe it!? I shrugged after writing the previous previous sentence. Hahaha. I feel like an idiot. I really did shrug I swear. Maybe I wasn't sure how I'd describe the protagonists? *more shrugs* Well anyway, there's gore at the first few pages. Like, gore as in Grubbs (main dude) finds what's left of his family mutilated, mangled. His dad, head cut, hanging upside down. Big sis, cut in half. I LOVE GORE. I didn't read the synopsis at the back so when I flopped it open I was totally astonished. I expected blood (and other body parts) bath. So, as I progressed further into it, good, good, okay. And I was thinking "WHERE'S THE GORE!?" It has a soft and favorable ending, a bit mysterious. It's not really concise, it is the first book from the series, after all. The author had more time to weave the story, though. I'm really looking forward to reading the next book, because I believe that there's more to it. What I've read is nothing compared to the rest (just an assumption). The only problem is, how the F am I supposed to get the next one? Ugh.

Oh, I didn't tell you what it was about, did I? Err, it's uh, it's. It's... it's. It's about some family curse. Certain members of their family turn into werewolves. The only difference is, in this series, once you turn into a full-fledged werewolf, you will lose your sanity (and even humanity), not only during full moon. There's a chance to lift the curse, though: by defeating the demon master called Lord Loss in chess. Five boards, plus distractions. So Mr. Main Character and his uncle challenge Lord Loss. There, I don't need to tell more. I know it isn't proper to tell you the plot just now, should've done it earlier but I totally forgot okay? Typical of me.

I suggest you read this if you're into fantasy and horror. I'm not besotted with this series... yet. Who knows, maybe another book later, I'll run around screaming "werewolves!!". Right.

Oh, and yes, I got the cover image from the author's website, it was so fucking red, mind you. I had to tone it down!

Je veux le livre de Fifi Lapin!

Before I begin this lustful post, I want you to know that the images are from likklegirl, fifi-lapin and afeminada. Now that I've credited the owners, I can now commence.

If you don't know Fifi yet, surely you can't not have seen an image of her somewhere. She's on tumblr, on people's blog layouts, on weheartit, on flickr. She's everywhere, the unforgettable fashion bunny who tells people what to wear because it's awesome.

To cut things (and silk laces) short, Fifi is the style bunny you might wanna consult if you have severe wardrobe malfunction. I'm not a fashionista myself, but I can't help but love her art.

Fifi's bio:

Hi, I'm Fifi Lapin... I was born one of 257 brothers and sisters but sadly there was an outbreak of myxomatosis when I was just one year old... I was the only one that survived. My parents are therefore incredibly protective of me and spoil me rotten. I'm an hare-ss to my fathers fortune which he made playing fast and loose with carrot and lettuce shares on the international stock market. There are a lot of rabbits out there eating carrots and lettuce so I guess he just struck gold (or orange you might say). Some people think I’m just a socialite but I think there is more to me than just an extremely stylish clotheshorse!

I should stop beating around the bush...

OH GOD I WANT HER STYLE BOOK.

It's partly because I can follow her divine fashion, and make-up advice with devotion.

But the larger part was... I want to take photos of her pages. They're just so chic and the art... très beau!

Grace Escudero of theafeminada.com wrote,

This book chronicles how Lapin chooses different outfits for different events. Events include fashion shows, date nights and convincing your father not to take away your credit card (pay good attention to the last one). In each Chapter, Lapin tries on several outfits, states why she likes them, how they can be improved and so forth. Near the end of each chapter she comes to the conclusion that she is too indecisive, so she enlists the help of prominent fashion designers such as Anna Sui. Lapin interviews the designers then asks them to choose an outfit for her from their collections.

And look, it has a Korean and Chinese version too!!

I can't believe I want it so badly I blogged about it.

livre gros et angoissant

His surname serves his reputation well. In my opinion, Stephen King is king of one of the horror-and-thriller-themed kingdoms in the planet where only authors exist.

This short and fat book is actually his first short story collection since Skeleton Crew. Oh, that information came from Google. Been reading this for a while, since tomorrow would be the day for the alleged zombies and witches to come back to life, I'd decided to snap photos of it and post it, ta-da!, here. Oh, you should really read it.

My favorites are Suffer the Little Children, Chattery Teeth, Sneakers and that story about the two brothers who discovered something called The Calmative. I forgot the title of that piece, I'm so sorry.

Suffer the Little Children is creepy. Have a happy halloween, and good luck to your loot bags if you're going out trick-or-treating. One more reminder, don't read Stephen King before going out tonight. Just saying.