I shall be GOing to America tomorrow morning as the first leg of my adventure to Puerto Rico. First I’ll be in Detroit for a family wedding. Then heading down to Georgia with my family again. It is from there that I head to Puerto Rico to shake hands with my dude Regner, on September 4th! It’s going to be awesome.

So far I havn’t packed much, so I must get on it! Might see some of you soon then… can’t wait x

I was talking to my friend, Saritza, on the phone and she said to me, “Renzo, I need you to give me tips on how to meet people. I want to know how you do it.” She calls me Renzo. Actually, she calls me Renzo Piano, who is a famous architect. Hee. I call her Saha Hari after the famous architect Zaha Hadid. It’s a lovely play on words derived from our real names and we both enjoy it very much. We’re just funny nerdy people like that. Ok, it’s only funny if you know what I’m talking about, otherwise it’s like “Eh?” So I’ll just stop, thank you. I was just saying. Don’t hate.

So Renzo loves meeting people. I just do. I told her, “Sari, you just have to go up to the people who interest you and ask what you want to know. Some will look at you weird, but once in a while, someone worth your time will pop up. You just have to be creative about it.” So then we proceeded to run to the elevator where I showed her how to strike up conversation with random strangers. We met two lovely girls on our way down to the floor B1, but that’s just so that I could prove my point.

It’s true, you know. Once in a while someone worth your time pops up. It’s like lightning striking the same spot twice, really. And also, it works, both, in real life and online. The internet is just a crazy thing. You meet all sorts of people and some freaks too. Not too long ago I got a message from this chick in a thong, but it was really gross and I didn’t respond. Not interested, thank yaw. It’s a different world, the internet.

Once I got a message from a guy saying “I wish I could get to know you better.” I responded, “No, you don’t.” and that was the end of THAT friendship. I was rude, I admit it. I no longer do that. Well, except to this one girl who claimed to be the famous model Adriana Lima. I messaged her saying, “You are NOT Adriana Lima. You can’t even speak Portuguese –which is her native language-“ Of course, as my luck would have it, she responded to my message in Portuguese. I bow down to her. Kudos to the impostor, I was impressed.

Not everyone is like this, though. Like I said, once in a while someone great shows up. Someone you can actually get to know, enjoy, learn from, be inspired, and cultivate a real friendship. SO, exactly 6 months ago I check my myspace account and someone cool had found me.

“New Friend Requests!” I read. This is always exciting, these notifications. My heart is especially delighted upon reading “New Picture Comments!” I’m just… yeah. Shallow. Maybe? Ok.

“easy.vibe wants to be your friend!”

-Approve.

I checked him out, and he seemed like a nice guy. I read he was from the United Kingdom and I have come to the conclusion that the UK breeds amazing people [it just does, I can’t explain it, but it’s true] so that worked to his advantage. I messaged him and he messaged me back. We got along pretty good so we started chatting on MSN, which only helped out our friendship.

So here we are, six months after that first message was sent and I still don’t know the reason why easy.vibe wanted to be my friend, but you know what? I’m glad he did… because in two weeks I will be meeting Oz in person.

I could try really hard to explain just how much this means to me, but I really think that I can’t find words to do so. I could babble. I could try babbling if you would like… I am amazed, quite frankly, at how two very different people from such very different places could form such a solid friendship simply through the internet. We’re in different HEMISPHERES for crying out loud. It’s not like he’s in the US or in Canada or even South America, for that matter. Oz lives waaaay over yonder in the Motherland and he is coming all the way to Puerto Rico to meet up with me and see the island.

I was talking to my roommate, Joixa, about him. “What’s he like?? Will you guys get along?” I told her, “He’s awesome… super cool. I sure hope we get along, we better!”

-“Do you guys have a lot in common?”

And as I explained what Oz was like and what he enjoyed doing and what his interests were and all that fun stuff, I completely understood that my roommate was right after she said to me “Regner, wow you guys are REALLY different!”

Oz and I are completely different people! But there’s something that brings us together… a common denominator for both of us, that to be quite frank, I’m not exactly sure what it is! I don’t think he knows either, but I’m sure we’ll find out exactly what that common denominator is as soon as we’re able to hang out when he comes to Puerto Rico. I am very much looking forward to getting to know him better and seeing why it is that we’re such good friends, because I’m not sure what caused our bond. I’m sure Oz blames it on the easy vibe. I, however, blame it on God, Himself.

This whole thing could be chaos. Utter and pure chaos. Oz could hate me and I could loathe him. Things could go awfully wrong to the point where we could not stand seeing each other, let alone hearing each other speak. Oz could hate me so much he could throw my skinny leg jeans out the window [because he feels strongly agains them. psht.] and me being in love with said jeans, would go into a state of hysteria and would crush him. He could end up deciding to leave PR early and I would refuse to drive him to the airport and I’d make him walk.

But this won’t happen… lol. I’m sure we have a pretty decent idea on what the other is like. Plus, I’ve gotten some scoop on Oz thanks to his lovely girlfriend, Jess [thank you, dearest Jess, for all your help. We’ll talk ;)]. As long as Oz STAYS AWAY FROM MY SKINNY LEG JEANS we will get along fine. Ha.

So, yes I have a completely awesome friend who lives on the other side of the world whom I have never met in my life. But we’ve been planning this trip for a decent amount of time… deciding who will visit whom first, how we would do it, what we would like to see, etc. It just so happens I shall be the chaperone first, which is awfully exciting. I will wear a little hat and khaki shorts. I will wear tan boots and have a loudspeaker and drive a bus. All for Oz. It’s important he feels like he’s getting the whole tour and Lord knows you can only do that with a decent tour guide who DRESSES and LOOKS the part.

Enter Reggles.

I joke, I joke. I will not dress like a tour guide. But I’m really starting to dig the idea. We’ll see, won’t we?

So Myspace gave me a really good friend that I value a lot, without even having met him. Honestly, I see Oz’s friendship as a gift from God. It’s awesome. I think it should be said that I have a small fear of meeting online friends… and thus far have been able to meet 5. Huge accomplishment over the past 4 months; a sort of new-found courage, I guess. I just get nervous and worry I will disappoint in person. But I’ve learned to deal with it. HA. So yes, meeting Oz in person is a HUGE deal. He will be the first online friend I meet from outside of the island and he is one of the most important friends I have, so no pressure. Especially since this trip is costing him 89 million dollars. And that’s a lot of money.

However, we will have a BLAST, I am sure. I cannot wait for September to come. Oz and I will meet, we shall be hardcore together, we will kick some serious ass, and our friendship will only get stronger. He will love the island, even if I have to LIE to him about how great it is. He is going to love his vacation and THAT’S THAT. Mark my words.

Every three weeks or so, my Youth Group (EMYM) goes to another town to feed the homeless. You know. It’s just part of what we do to help out others. Because that’s how we roll. So today we went to a nearby town to look out for people who might need something to eat, right?

Right.

Let me just tell you that it’s really hard to sometimes tell who is homeless and in need for food. Usually one can just stereotypically look out for ragged clothes and unshaven faces that include a bottle of alcohol, but it’s not a sure-fire thing, this method. Some people are hungry and they don’t necessarily have to be look all beaten down. I’m just saying.

So while we drove around looking for people who might need food, we see a man who is walking by the street and we decide to pull over. We offered him food right? He said “Yes, if you’d like to, I’ll take it.” So of course we did. He kept talking about some “girl” all the time. I was like … “Hmm, I don’t know what he’s talking about. What girl?” So yeah, my friend kept telling him, “Here’s your sandwich.” and he’s like “Yes, the girl is offering me one too.”

I don’t know WHAT he’s talking about, I’m not even paying attention to his words. Until the following happens.

-”Here, have a soda. Regner, give him a soda.”

-”Okay!” ~hands over soda~

And that’s when the homeless guy said it.

-”Thank you, sweet girl.”

Hold up. What? You just called me “girl”. What’s up with that? I looked at one of my friends in a kind of shocked horror/amusement type of deal. He stared back. This guy called me “girl”? Do I LOOK like a girl? No. So why did he call me a girl? I have issues now. “My sunglasses… my mullet…” I thought to myself. “Maybe he thought I was a girl cuz of my sunglasses.” I don’t know.

I have decided I won’t shave anymore. Feeling sort of flattered right now. Yet. Yes. I’m not a girl. SURE, I have woman hips and I could give birth if nature permitted it, but my face? Yeah, I understand my face isn’t CHISELED like Mr. Brad Pitt but I thought it was obvious that I AM a guy.

Had this happen to any normal person, they would be completely offended, but since I am a quite unlike many people, I am simply accepting the fact that to this man, I was a girl. I’m a girl. Braid my mullet?

xoxo Reggles

I’ll make this just a quick blog to let you know that I picked up AAA this morning for my A levels. It’s a bit beyond me, but then everyone seems to be getting the set! I’m just so happy I’m into Manchester University to study Geography next year. For now, I’ve got a year off! Any ideas what to do, in between working and inter-railing with Regner? :D

Ok. So I have this new slideshow that you can aaaaalll go see. It’s pretty fun lol. See my friends and I went to Old San Juan which is one of the most historical towns in all of Puerto Rico, if not THE most important one. There’s all sorts of things there and it’s just incredibly amazing, beautiful, charming, and all those other good things. An afternoon there is pure magic. Sure, you sweat like a mutha, but magic, nonetheless. You have everything there and it’s really a great way to spend your day. So anyway, my friends and I spent an afternoon there and even though we bathed in our own sweat, we still enjoyed it very much. This slideshow is proof. Proof.

I will be taking oz to Old San Juan when he comes next month. After being there the other day I simply cannot wait to take him lol. I’m sure he’ll enjoy it more than I simply because it’ll be really new to him. Except for the heat, he’ll be fine. Had I not worn tight jeans, I might have not released as much fluids as I did, but whatever. One Pina Colada at the bar with the three fans and VOILA, you are DRY, my friends. [A big thank you to the good sir who prepared the delicious beverage, alcohol free of course, just for me.]

Also, if you don’t bring money to buy stuff, it’s not as fun. At least not for me anyway. It’s just not the same. SOMETHING about walking around with a bag full of clothes just…. ~takes deep breath~ does it for me. Seriously. But hey, it could be a little bag with just ONE thing. It doesn’t matter. It’s just the satisfaction of knowing you got something out of Old San Juan that you can take home. Or maybe it’s just that you like buying things. But whatever it is, Old San Juan has something for everyone. EVERYONE. Except the ugly people. Kidding.

And here it is:

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I received the following in an e-mail (fwd) today:

A Pastor entered his donkey in a race and it won. The pastor was so pleased with the donkey that he entered it in the race again, and it won again. The local paper read: PASTOR’S ASS OUT FRONT

The Bishop was so upset with this kind of publicity that he ordered the pastor not to enter the donkey in another race. The next day, the local paper headline read: BISHOP SCRATCHES PASTOR’S ASS

This was too much for the bishop, so he ordered the pastor to get rid of the donkey. The pastor decided to give it to a nun in a nearby convent. The local paper, hearing of the news, posted the following headline the next day: NUN HAS BEST ASS IN TOWN

The bishop fainted. He informed the nun that she would have to get rid of the donkey, so she sold it to a farmer for $10. The next day the paper read: NUN SELLS ASS FOR $10

This was too much for the bishop, so he ordered the nun to buy back the donkey and lead it to the plains where it could run wild. The next day the headlines read: NUN ANNOUNCES HER ASS IS WILD AND FREE

The bishop was buried the next day.

The moral of the story is….being concerned about public opinion can bring you much grief and misery and even shorten your life! So be yourself and enjoy life! Stop worrying about everyone else’s ass and you’ll be alot happier and live longer!!!!

Fellow readers, I know Oziz was down since the 15th of July. That’s a long time, I know. Sorry! It’s just that a certain someone left for Spain and the whole world went into chaos. We apologize.

I’ve been meaning to post, but seeing as to how I wasn’t allowed to do so, I’ve had to hold it in all this time.

Moving on.

Did anyone happen to watch the Miss Universe pageant on Sunday? Why, you ask? Because if you did, you would have seen how Puerto Rico kicked the universe’s ass. That, my friends, is why.

Here. Look at the picture so that you have a feel for what I am talking about.

I would like to point out…:

-…That all five ladies were quite beautiful, in all honesty, but not all of them were stunning. Ahem.

- …That Switzerland looks like a freaking Barbie doll with that lame dress. Switzerland, it’s the Miss Universe pageant, ok? Not a twelfth grade prom. Nice girl, bad dress color. It’s like “whoa” and it’s why your girl lost.

-…That, apparently, Paraguay is the land of giants. Beautiful giants, granted. But giants, nontheless.

- …That there is absolutely no flaws to Japan’s girl. Everything was perfect. Her dress, her look, her hair, her smile. Everything was flawless and I BOW down to Ol’ Japan. Kurara, darling, if you’re looking for an exotic island boy, come to the country that kicked your ASS. I’m here, waiting. okthanks.

- … That USA and Paraguay have the most Coutoure-ish gowns of the night and they looked goooood. You both may have lost, but you can still strut down a runway like no other.

- … That Puerto Rico’s boobs are like… undergoing some serious pressure in that metallic dress. Just look.

In all honest, I was very skeptical about the representative Puerto Rico sent to the pageant this year. I didn’t think that she was too special and I most certainly didn’t think she’d be one of the favorites up to grab the coveted crown. The crown looks like it’s inspired by a peacock’s feathers. Just thought I’d point that out cuz it’s pretty cool. Although… feathers on the head is way too Vegas Showgirl-y, come to think of it. This is besides the point. The point is I was a bit surprised and quite thrilled to see our girl be called into the top 20 and even more surprised to see her make her way into the top ten and then top 3. I thought for sure that’d be the end of her, because let’s face it… Japan’s queen was absolutely stunning to say the least.

So there I was with my friend Ricardo [and my sister’s kitty, Camila] watching the last three girls with my mouth open, as usual. At this point every person in Paraguay, Puerto Rico and Japan was hoping to win the crown. So yeah. As Paraguay got her ass sent home, it was between our lovely lady and the goddess from Japan. So I said, “Goodness, Japan is SO going to win.” and my friend agreed. I was just impressed with Japan [And it’s not like I have this huge crush on the Asians, because I don’t. But this girl was quite beautiful]. And then they said it. “The first runner up… is Japan!”

And that’s when pigs flew.

Apparently Ricardo and I are both little girls because we were all giddy and laughing and celebrating when we won the crown. “We won!! I can’t believe we won!! I’m so happy!”. Yeah. Psht. We’re allowed to celebrate, so stop thinking whatever it is you’re thinking. I think that our girl didn’t expect to win either! She was crying before they called out the country’s name. She was being all nice to Japan and talking to her like giving her support. And, then, when they called out my country’s name, there was this look of INCREDIBLE disbelief, shock and overwhelm. She was just shocked like a mutha. It was grand. She made us all believe she was going to lose. That little actress.

Winning Miss Universe is always a big deal here in Puerto Rico. It is. It’s because we’re festive people lol. We celebrate everything. Everything. So when we win the fifth Miss Universe crown, we go into a state of ecstasy and then wonderful things happen. We’re just beautiful as a people. We just are. Apparently.

By the way. Miss Puerto Rico, please. I don’t ever want to see that face [the one in the picture] again. Please, just don’t do it. It’s not a very pretty expression. It’s like “Gaaah, I’m going to eat you, look at my big mouth and how I will swallow eevveerryyy other country here. Let’s try to tone it down a bit. You don’t want to do it again, trust us. This ONE time, we, as your people, will let it slide. But only because you were in outright SHOCK. This picture will haunt you for the rest of your life. And now WE have to deal with it. THIS is the face of “the most beautiful woman in the universe” and as Puerto Ricans, we all look like schmucks due to your lack of voluntary jaw control.

xo Reggles

Tomorrow, at last, I will be treking to (near) Malaga, Spain to stay with Jess in her villa for ten days! I’m quite excited :) First I have to make it to Liverpool airport tomorrow morning by public transport. Yeh, hmm. I hope I make it ok because then this time tomorrow I will be so happy in sunny Spain, probably still in the sea! Woo. See you soon x

Hypothetically.

You have a friend who just happens to be your housemate. She lives in your apartment and pays rent for her bedroom. I feel the sudden urge to further reinforce the fact that she lives in your apartment. When I say “your” apartment, it means your father bought it for you. It’s your private property.

Now I don’t want to sound like a crazy freak who has to be in control all the time. I promise, my power trips are limited nowadays. Addicting as they are, they only make people like you less, and that’s not my purpose in life. Other times, they are needed. Like when Joixa bought plants for the apartment. Good God. They’re not even plant-like, I swear. She called me up and was like “Oh Regner, I was at this festival and they were giving away these plants so I got three for the apartment.” And I was like “Well you can keep them in your room, because they’re not going to be up for exhibition in the living room, dinning room, nor kitchen.”

And no, they’re not visible to the public. They are currently trying to grow inside of her room. Thank you, kindly.

Company is another big deal because, hell, it is my apartment. I want to know who goes in my apartment, even if you’re paying rent. I’m responsible for my stuff, not my roommate. I am a good person though! I don’t mind her having company over. In fact, I like her classmates. Well… the two that I’ve met. They’re nice.

This is the problem with roommates nowadays. Living with someone is not easy, my friends. It’s all sorts of things into one. Two people with different lifestyles and different habits, and different diets have to be tolerant. Different alarm clocks. All sorts of things. Granted, I’m not the most perfect roommate, but I’m pretty easy to live with. My wonderful friend, Joixa, is my roommate and we have never had any problems. Which is grand. We’re just tolerant mofos. We are. And then there’s this:

“Bebo” says:
Hey Regnus, I cleaned your room up. Hahahaha.

[reggles]- The Boy Who Lost says:
whatever do you mean?

“Bebo” says:
I was at your appartment cause I visited Joixa, and I cleaned up some of the stuff you had thrown around.

“Bebo” says:
It wasn’t much. And I didn’t stay in your room for long. I also cleaned the cealing fan in the guest room.

[reggles]- The Boy Who Lost says:
there IS no guest room.

“Bebo” says:
You know, the living room. Where the sofa is.

[reggles]- The Boy Who Lost says:
that’s like not a bedroom

[reggles]- The Boy Who Lost says:
and also, what stuff in my room?

“Bebo” says:
By the way, nice sofa.

[reggles]- The Boy Who Lost says:
thanks. did you sleep there?

“Bebo” says:
Yes I did.

“Bebo” says:
And I just organised the pillows on your futon and I folded a towel I saw there. I also noticed your bed was a little wierd so I smoothed it out. And one or two tiny things. That’s about it though.

“Bebo” says:
By the way, have you spoken to her lately?

[reggles]- The Boy Who Lost says:
i’m speaking to her right now

“Bebo” says:
Oh ok… Damn.

[reggles]- The Boy Who Lost says:
yeah i’m not too happy right now

“Bebo” says:
Why?

[reggles]- The Boy Who Lost says:
Joixa didn’t tell me she was having company over for the night. And because her visitor finds that it’s ok to waltz in my bedroom… and then “clean” things up.

Ok what? So let’s review. You’re meaning to tell me that someone has just slept over in my apartment without my knowing it. And also that my roommate’s ex-boyfriend thinks that he’s my new MAID. Last I checked, I had no maid. Not to mention the fact that this visitor has more than likely slept on my sofa. My BEIGE sofa. My sofa that I adore and prefer that it never be used so that it’s never ever ruined. See, having people AROUND my sofa makes me nervous. One time, my roommate and her friend put their feet up on my sofa.

I freaked.

So yeah, when someone tells me that they slept in my living room it makes me rather uncomfortable for various reasons, one of them being my sofa. Moving on to a more pressing point. “…I cleaned your room up”. Yeah, what?

At this point, my mind is racing back to how I left my room. I’m desperately trying to remember under what conditions I left my bedroom last time I was there in June. Oh that’s right! I remember:

~Insert Heavenly Choir Note here~

Perfection.

That’s what my room achieved before I left. Except for that one pesky towel I left lying around. Dagnabit! That towel must have been one very disturbing mofo, for Bebo to just have the *urge* to pick it up and FOLD it! It turned him into maid-boy, that towel. Goodness. And now I begin to wonder… WHERE did he put the folded towel? Like seriously, where? If the towel was SO out of place, it would look out of place wether it be folded or NOT. So now I have to assume that he probably opened my closet door to put the towel there.

I keep my towels next to the underwear shelf. How grand. He probably rummaged through my closet. He probably saw my underwear. Good! Now my privacy has been completely invaded for the summer, yay.

Honestly. Closed doors have a meaning. I wouldn’t go inside other people’s room without permission (unless we were really close friends, and I knew they wouldn’t mind, obviously). But I wouldn’t go to my roommate’s exboyfriend’s room and “clean” things up! [Ok seriously, I might because I’m nosey like that and I like me an adventure, but no one would find out, duh. I’m not retarded]. AHEM, forget I said that. So yeah, for sure! Closed doors have a meaning! Please don’t tell me I’m going to have to resort to LOCKING my bedroom door. That’s just ridiculous. I shouldn’t have to worry about Joixa’s company waltzing in my ROOM. That’s just a given. A given.

Children, respect your roommates [and their privacy], for this is good.

Have you ever had the feeling that you were doing something in vain? If you haven’t and are interested in trying it, I have a suggestion. Would you be interested in taking Physics 2 for an entire month for six hours a day? You’ll learn aaaalll sorts of things! Including electromagnetic fields! You’ll learn how to calculate many many things, including how much energy is being exerted on a single particle! It’s great. I will use this EVERY single day in my architecture career. Because architecture is JUST like electrical engineering. Not.

So last night I was sleeping and I was woken up by a text message on my cell phone. It scared the beejeezuz out of me. I’m serious. I was just being a peaceful little Regner, minding my own dreams and then BAM!

~tingling sound~

This is my face at this point:

=*O

It was so freaking loud, I don’t understand it. Then I replied to it, fell asleep again and BAM! Again. I LOVE text messages, I promise you I do. But last night was scary for me. What? It was. You know what else can be scary? Alarm clocks. I think it’s a mixture of things, alarm clocks. I think it’s a combination of “I HATE waking up.” and dreading it mixed with the actual sound. I have come to the conclusion that there is just no pleasant alarm sound. Why? Because people hate waking up. It’s the truth. I don’t care if the alarm clock sounds like the magical twinkling of stars or of it sounds like an agonizing cat. Alarms. Aren’t. Cool.

I think that perhaps the only alarm sound that can be a bit more easy to deal with, is waking up with music. But then it’s just a mess and you have to be careful. Because you know what? Sometimes the actual music fuses together with your dream and you dream you’re playing the violin in front of your school church and people are delighted at your natural born talent, and then you don’t wake up. Because, hell, you don’t know you’re supposed to wake up. You’re thinking you’re playing the freaking violin in your school and all is right in the world. How are you supposed to know that Sarah McLachlan’s “Building A Mystery” is your alarm for the day?

Whatever. Wake up however you want to wake up. Truth is, most of us humans don’t like to wake up to crazy sounds. But you know what? Crazy sounds get the job done, I guess. The louder and more abrubt, the sooner you’ll find yourself at your feet. I guess for those of us who have things to do, this is a good thing. Sarah McLachlan invading my dreams again, simply won’t do it.

But if any of you feel like text messaging me or calling me in the middle of the night, I seriously don’t mind. It might scare me a little bit, I won’t lie, but psht. That’s a part of life. It actually helps life. Your heart starts pumping that blood faster and your circulation starts doing its job really really really well. All of a sudden your complexion is porcelain-like. So yeah, I guess call me and make me beautiful.