Planet Of The Vapes

The boys are in the pit once again. Hennessy is chilled, barbeque on the grill and the artist of choice to serenade us that night is Lana Del Rey. It’s another birthday celebration and somebody’s going home drunk and perhaps hung-over the day after. Not much have changed since the last drinking spree except that the threshold for alcohol consumption is a little tamed and most noticeably the smell of cigarettes is finally gone. No, my buddies have not quit smoking. I don’t see that happening anymore at this stage in their lives. Now, they just vape.

In case you have been out of the scene and still Game Of Thrones-struck, the more hip-sounding “vape” has been a steady and growing fad aimed to substitute tobacco smoking. Vaping is derived from its tool called Personal Vaporizer (PV), which utilizes a heating element that vaporizes a liquid solution. There are some solutions that merely releases flavored vapor while some, those who could not totally divorce from nicotine, still has the deadly substance in it. They can, however, control the amount of nicotine they want to burn, or in a sense, kinda like gauging how long they want to live. Either way, the smell is nowhere near that of regular cigarettes and I can’t believe it came to this point, but second-hand smoke has never been so delightful.

The gadget itself is amazing. It’s taken over the entire table discussion. My homies talk about their PVs like it’s science. They talk about how precise your PV should be assembled, that the thread needs to be at exact length and that the atomizer—the heating element—must be of high quality. And you can throw in the towel when they start talking about the actual flavors. The list outduels that of Buffalo Wild Wings’ spicy choices by a mile. It goes from bubble gum to pineapple to tiramisu. I swear if it’s something that you can taste, there’s probably a liquid solution for that already. So it's no surprise that vape conversations get extremely serious. You can easily get lost in translation. I mean whenever I find myself in the middle of such talk, I feel as if I’m in high school Physics class again where every term seems so foreign. But at least I know this much—like I know much of the theory of relativity—the greater amount of smoke you exhale, the better your PV is!

Now don’t get me wrong. The smoke that fills the air is still annoying, flavorful as it is, especially if they get in your face. I don’t know as well how “healthy” exactly it is and if my friends actually vape virgin flavors or nicotine-infused ones. And I’m totally oblivious where the FDA stands regarding vaping but I’m sure the tobacco companies are not pulling for great reviews. Could you imagine how much money Marlboro is losing because of vaping?? All of my buddies have gone vaping and I see more and more switching everyday. Heck, I even have a friend who didn’t smoke before but now actually vapes.

Vaping may not necessarily save you from lung cancer nor is it gonna better our environment, but at least it’s a start. A planet of vapes?? Sounds.. er.. smells good to me!   

"Down"-Town Los Angeles

A few days ago, my colleague John and I walked a couple of blocks in Downtown Los Angeles to grab some lunch at the nearby Ralphs.  We typically talk about the ongoing issues we have at work, and we did with much gusto as if these issues are fixable within our pay scale. But every now and then there would be an eye-catcher along the way that is worthy of our two cents. It is Downtown Los Angeles after all and I was strolling with an old-timer who experienced the area back in the 80s and had really fond memories of then worthy of its calling as a “downtown”.

The buildings now are ragged out, pavements are crooked and litter is flyin’ all over the streets. In the north and east side of Olive Street, abandoned warehouses and stalls are aplenty. The homeless are tediously dragging themselves around epitomizing zombies from The Walking Dead. Just a few years ago the city made some initiatives to revive DTLA with the Staples Center as the core for its redemption to glory. L.A. Live was born (a conglomerate of establishments that includes the Nokia Theatre, ESPN Zone, the Ritz Carlton Hotel and the Yard House to name a few) and was designed to attract locals and visitors alike from all across the country. Suddenly there’s a buzz about DTLA again. Talks about L.A. Live nearly mimicking, perhaps even equaling that of Time Square in New York City, was widespread. But it wasn’t even close and sadly the buzz was short-lived. It became an occasional “it” place usually when the Lakers season start or American Idol is down to its Top 10 finalists. The drive-to-revive DTLA did not go the whole nine-yards and it was evident to the still existent infrastructure diversity between the west and east sectors. Whether the city still has plans to roll out the resurgence of DTLA or not, it is ostensibly a long-term project.

John and I had a great lunch. We were in a better mood going back as compared to our walk away from the office. And John, the truly colorful storyteller that he is, would always go nostalgic and impart some buried memories in his head about those old buildings. He pointed out to an already vacated theatre and how it was so grand during the day drawing SRO crowds all the time. We passed by an old pub where John and his buddies used to frequent after a stressful day at work. "The good ole days!!!" he quipped. And he would never miss telling me how that Chase building at 9^th street was where he had his first job. I love John’s stories. He’s very passionate about it. But he is very disappointed and saddened of the city’s demise. We both knew that DTLA is in bad shape. Yet we always find humor in a lot of things that we see in the streets like overly fashioned-out people (think scarves in 90-degree heat) and restos like Johnny’s Big Wangs LOL. There is one in particular, a small factory nearby our building that manufactures mannequins. Typical store where they have prints on the side of their establishment (in big bold letters) of the merchandise they sell. Problem is, they spelled mannequins as MANNIKINS! It’s been there since I moved to Los Angeles and that’s like 7 years ago. Now if that’s not an indication that DTLA has a long way to go, then I don’t know what is?? Can’t help but chuckle every time we get a glimpse of it.

Los Angeles, we have a problem!

Coaching Nadal

I was in Arthur Ashe Stadium, watching a semifinal match between Sharapova and Azarenka. My head swiveling left and right as the tennis match gets intense. Never realized how loud these ladies could be in a real game. A few seats below on my right was Olivia Wilde snuggling with his man Jason Sudeikis. Further below on my left was Jimmy Fallon and on the jumbotron they showed dimple-faced Dakota Fanning seated on the other side of the court eating away on some Twizzlers. During the break, I looked behind and noticed the great Rafael Nadal standing at the end of the aisle, just a few rows from where I was seated. Oddly enough, he was not attracting a crowd. I was feeling awkward but not exactly sure why. Maybe because I was not used to seeing too many celebrities, or because the bright lights were, well, too bright. Or maybe because the old lady beside me keeps on touchin’ my knee and I feel horny when she does it. Whatever it is, I can feel drops of sweat slowly descend down my face even when it was around 60 degrees that night.

It was the third set in favor of Sharapova, Azarenka serving. Crowd silent as hell. A woman from the very front row rose up, made her way thru seemingly irked fans and was walking up the steps towards me. She was pretty, probably a few inches taller than my 5’6 frame, blonde hair, blue eyes and donning an unmistakably Burberry ensemble.  On her way up, she stopped exactly in front of Row 8 Seat # 1, staring at the guy who was seated there. The guy obviously puzzled. Happens to be me. Suddenly this lady just laid down on my lap and put her arms around my neck. Our cheeks were so close to each other it was impossible to slide a piece of paper in between. Who the heck is this woman? And why is she going all PDA on me?? She starts talking and I immediately knew she was European because of her sexy accent. I really couldn’t figure out what she was saying entirely but I was not complaining. What’s weird was that not a single soul was paying attention to us. Everyone was just zoned into the game except one—Rafa.

Still clueless of what’s happening at the moment, this lady keeps giving Nadal the quick glimpses while all cuddly with me. Tired of the unknown (but not of the affection), I asked the lady who she was and why is she doin’ this. I found out that she was Nadal’s ex-girlfriend and she was trying to send Rafa a message. What the heck?? Is this lady insane? I am not gonna get in between you ex-lovers and eventually get beat up by a 6-foot tennis phenom in front of this celebrity-filled crowd. As I slowly try to shove her away, she plunged back into me and immediately gave me a really wet and seductive kiss. And like the sucker I am (the moment actually called for it), I kissed her back. Our lips were locked and for a while I felt there was a connection, almost The Notebook-like. It took me a minute (okay, maybe a few minutes) to realize that I’m potentially preparing myself for some ass-whoopin’. I looked at Nadal and surprisingly he was not budging. I can see his mixed expression of regret and anger but the guy was standing there like a statue. So my bonehead maneuver for the day was to approach him, which I did.

Nadal was relatively calm and I found myself just explaining to the dude what his ex was feeling and why she was using me as bait (Haha! Me as bait?? Never would've thought). As I blabber along, the reasoning started to become more of a lecturing and I knew I almost sounded like Dr. Phil at one point. Nadal was uneasy but restrained with on-and-off stares at his ex, who is now on my seat and staring back at Rafa. My mouth just couldn’t stop talking and I now was at Reverend Jackson-level where I could hear myself saying AMEN after each and every point I make. “Look Rafa! She was devastated when you broke up. You chose your career over her! This is her payback. And if you show her an inch that you are affected by her actions, then by golly she just got ace!” Then Nadal stopped moving, looked me straight in the eyes and said, “You are right!!!” then walked away. That’s right Rafa, walk away! Show this woman your nerves of steel. Feeling a little accomplished myself, I turned to Nadal’s ex to get some validation but she was already on her way to the exit. The crowd was already on their feet. Victoria Azarenka won the match. Then suddenly the lights went out, the entire place went pitch black. It was 4 in the morning and the only thing swiveling was the loud dusty fan in my room. I was awakened. All along it was a dream, an almost surreal dream. I felt a little drowsy and briefly in disarray, but that explains how I got expensive U.S. Open seats, the old lady on my left and how Nadal ended up having a blonde ex when he has been steadily dating Maria Francisca for almost a decade now. Bummer though that the making-out session was fictitious. I swear I was really well-groomed that night, curls and all LOL...

For a moment, I was coaching Nadal. Maybe not in the tennis field where he would’ve easily annihilated me, but a win is a win! And in my dream, the 13-time Grand Slam Champion was defeated. Haha! Rafa son, you just got schooled! :)

De-Stressing

For some, it’s riding a bike, running a few miles, painting a portrait or simply reading a book.  For me, it’s a toss up between (a) giving my liver its much deserved alcohol workout, (b) playing the heck out of Civ Revolution (don't judge) or (c) listening to lots and lots of music. Unfortunately it doesn’t quite put me there and I realized that engraving my thoughts in ink via cyberspace aka The Blogger could be the missing piece. I actually wanted to work out and have rock-hard abs just like LL Cool J or pick up guitar lessons and walk into the expected mid-life crisis cliché of doing things you never did back when you were young. Or even better, start my lifelong dream of a world tour and jeopardize the funds for my boys’ highly-touted college debut at UC San Diego—as if I had the funds and my boys are really going there :)  However none of those fit me right. I mean it’s just not me. I always had a seemingly odd figure and my hands have always been uncoordinated when it comes to instruments. And though traveling seems more feasible, I’ve always been limited on the financial end of it—Dad/Mom, about that post-grad studies aid you were offering, I think I am taking you up on that now? :)

We all have our ways to relieve us from stress—like kids and their video games, your neighbors and gossiping, and Don Jon and his porn. Blogging ain’t that different. In fact, I used to write blogs a few years ago but never really had the knack to consistently do it. Not anymore. It’s the dawn of a new era!!! (play Eminem’s Lose Yourself right here) I am really pushing myself hard this time and let the world—or the handful of people who would pity me enough to read my stuff—know what’s inside my big forehead. You may find it boring, maybe be critical about what I say or totally disagree with my point of view but hey, that’s what blogging is all about. It’s probably a dying avenue already (really??) but I am saving it from opinion bankruptcy one freaking blog at a time.

Watch out peeps (and creeps), I’m bringing sexy back… into BLOGGING!

Trust 101

I admire people who unreluctantly opens up without weighing in the gravity of what they are about to unload. It's either they are a truly free-sprited person or simply naive of their willingness to trust. I could imagine pouring your heart out to your very best friend, but to friends you have acquired, though you feel easy getting along with, a revelation could mean a lot to your so-called friendship.

Enjoying a night out with a pal and sharing bountiful of laughter can be the start of a great bond. But if all you have in common is ending each other's punchlines, then it is not made up for a sturdy friendship. The real test is when one is in need. The way the other person responds or the sincerity of the act would make or break that kinship. And most often than not, it is too late for the person who entrusted his revelation, to take back what he/she thought was a safe seclusion. Either the person who was confided to didn't take the disclosure too seriously, or he/she is not ready to be burdened with such vote of confidence. Whatever other reason there is, the trustor is already in jeopardy and depending on the seriousness and magnitude of such trust, would determine how deep that friendship will be altered.

From a different perspective, stepping inside that circle of trust with somebody does not require tremendous effort. Most often than not, the person's unwillingness to share is due to a very unpleasant experience, the uncertainty of the response he/she may get, the severity of the deed or the actual involvement of the other person on such issue. But in as much as it is hard to trust a close acquaintance, the actual issue may just be the ramifications of self-trust. For sharing such trust would mean finally owning it, perhaps taking a chance that the world would finally know what you have been dreading to admit to yourself all along. And maybe you are not ready, just not ready yet for the universe to know. Perhaps you would not be ready at all...

The truth will set you free is what they say but then, how would that person you have entrusted handle it? Would they judge you? Accept you still even if it's a moral issue they strongly disagree with? Would they prefer not to have known? Understand that if your friendship with this person is not as unfathomable as you may think, it is important to waddle the water near shore first, before you dive into the deep. So trust is not entirely a one-way street (at least on my book). I can claim myself as considerate by not burdening you with the truth even if your gossip buds are dying to know, or I can simply be selfish for not believeing you can handle it. Maybe I should just toss a coin and get this over with, right? Piece of cake.