I used to drink everythang in tha first time I realized that Mob hired me & that I wud be ridin’ tha jeep regularly to work. Enuf wit boring everyday ridin’ to skewl & elsewhere wit Raffy, our ikot-happy driver who luuvs takin tha most bizaare and farthest routes & eskinitas. Wit Raffy outta tha picture, I ain’t getting rides anywhere in a car nymore. Tha first few months, no one & nuthin is safe from ma wicked once-overs. Whereas ma sole object of criticism us’d to be tha balding spot of Raffy’s backhead, now I have more targets of ammunition and more fun. I start wit tha person across from me. Notice his greasy bowl-cut hair. Notice his complexion. Notice his companion & tha general attitude in life ive already stereotyped him in wit juz one glance at his blah expression. Then I move on to the person next to him, then through tha whole row before movin’ on to tha people seated on ma side. When I’m done, I move on to tha people we pass along in their abodes… tha naggin’ lady on tha street who is screamin sumthin nasty @ her dirty child, tha endless rows of travel agencies in Malate, tha sign which reads “Parking reserved for May Sun Rest. Customers” which alwez got me thinking of “restroom” or “rest in peace” rather than its real meaning w/c is “restaurant”, tha roamin’ mummy-like lolo near Manila Zoo whose daily routine is to approach jeepney passengers thru tha windows, tap em, then extend his palm moanin’ “aaaa… aaaaa…”, tha cold dusty impersonal smell of cement in sites we pass by that are under construction. And all of em ugly or otherwise used to make me happy. Now I must be gettin’ used to it coz I don’t remember every’un in tha jeep anymore & will only throw a considerin’ look to a person across from me if he or shes a bit unusual like if he has weird nose or sumthin. Or if I can’t figure out if he or she is a gurl or a guy. Like tha one across today. I suspect shes a butch but cant be sho’. Gurl at his/her right got her arms linked thru his/her’s & they all lovey-dovey and I look at tha she-guy hard to figure out her gender. She [a gurl at final inspection] and her gurlfriend threw back a stare @ me. As tha butch duzen seem to any hint of curve up there, I really thought she was a guy then I got to thinkin’ mebbe that’s how butches become butches. They start out embarrass’d @ their lack of curves then they start dressin’ all macho & manly to go wit their man-like bodies then they became serious ‘bout bein’ butches & get themselves gurlies like tis one in front o’ me. Then wit tis last thought, I don’t pay attention to em anymore & I start to complain to paver bout sumthin. And paver in total conformity wit ma problem and happy he duzen hafta worry about escortin me to & from events juz sits there unsympathetically and tells me almost cheerfully that ‘that’s juz tha way it is’ and tha carton of nacho chips I was holdin between ma hands suddenly flew in his direction and paver threw me a ‘tsk’ & a look of evil disapproval, thinking I did it deliberately but I did not & I look at him wit an equally mean look on ma face & then hes askin me to pick it up but I diden coz its way beyond reach & I was poutin & prolly lookin’ more evil by tha mo’ then I saw tha man-gurl across suddenly reachin’ out her hand to tha right to grip tha handle bar at tha end of tha jeep but she look’d like shes shieldin her gurl or sumthin prolly from ma evil looks. And I paid em no heed & go on sulkin then I remember’d tha 33-year-old new trainee Mob hired who duzen have an email account & how I taught him, even YM & he was chattin wit a gurl friend he eagerly call’d soon as we made his new account then how I tried teachin him how to ‘BUZZ’ but tha keyboard duzen seem to function so I tried typin random keys & end up typin “PP” then his gurl chatm8 askd sumthin but I was still too engross’d on why tha ‘BUZZ’ ain’t workin so I wasn’t reading when I typed randomly again & tis time typ’d “K” so it seemd tha guy said ok to tha gurl’s queschn w/c was really stupid coz tha queschn wasn’t answerable by ok & then I chose the pink Hello Kitty ImVironment 4 him & twas really hilarious coz he hates it & I was rememberin all tis when I snorted out a laugh in tha jeep & imagine a mean-lookin ready-to-strike-yer-eyes-out person suddenly laughin & tha gay couple’s prolly thinkin’ “psycho” & then more laughter fo’ me, & tha man-gurl grippin tha handlebars tighter. Then 3 rowdy dirty street kids about 7 years o’ age suddenly fasten’d themselves to tha end of tha jeep & tha gay couple immediately turn’d their eyes on me prolly wantin’ to see how tha “psycho-gurl” across reacts to bratty, dirty, potentially pickpocketing pack of kids but I diden wince, frown or scoot away from em as far as possible. I juz watch’d em & sympathized wit em when tha driver won’t let em get off even as tha kid had meekly ask’d to git off more than twice.

Two weird messages from two strange people in Friendster both written on the same day [02/16]:

1] from someone named Fa:
How are you today? Today is a really sunny day,
and I just happen to run into your profile, and I
was thinking sunshine, what a name. I see you
love to bake, and a lot of other things. I really
don't know what to say, it's like telemarketing.
Well if you want to connect give me a ring.
[and then she diden leave a number!]

2] from someone named John:
HI..I am american guy looking for a gf. I am 39
but I have never been married and I have no kids.
I am dreaming about a filipna wife. Please look
at my pic and write to me...I would love to get
to know you..your are beautiful...
[creepy!]

Quote for the day comes from a male friend whom I invited to today's Close-Up Lova palooza contest wit me. He said:
"Kaw na lan. Busy paco eh!"
Lolz!

a Valentine post...

Written on the body
by Jeanette Winterson

Why is the measure of love loss?

I am thinking of a certain September: Wood pigeon Red Admiral Yellow Harvest Orange Night. You said, "I love you." Why is it that the most unoriginal thing we can say to one another is still the thing we long to hear? "I love you" is always a quotation. You did not say it first and neither did I, yet when you say it and when I say it we speak like savages who have found three words and worship them. I did worship them but now I am alone on a rock hewn out of my own body.


CALIBAN
You taught me language and my profit on't is I know how to curse. The red plague rid you For learning me your language.
Love demands expression. It will not stay still, stay silent, be good, be modest, be seen and not heard, no. It will break out in tongues of praise, the high note that smashes the glass and spills the liquid. It is no conservationist love. It is a big game hunter and you are the game. A curse on this game. How can you stick at a game when the rules keep changing? I shall call myself Alice and play crocket with the flamingoes. In Wonderland everyone cheats and love is Wonderland isn't it? Love makes the world go round. Love is blind. All you need is love. Nobody ever died of a broken heart. You'll get over it. It'll be different when we're married. Think of the children. Time's a great healer. Still waiting for Mr. Right? Miss Right? and maybe all the little Rights?

It's the clichés that cause the trouble. A precise emotion seeks a precise expression. If what I feel is not precise then would I call it love? It is so terrifying, love, that all I can do is shove it under a dump bin of pink cuddly toys and send myself a greetings card saying `Congratulations on your Engagement'. But I am not engaged I am deeply distracted. I am desperately looking the other way so that love won't see me. I want the diluted version, the sloppy language, the insignificant gestures. The saggy armchair of clichés. It's all right, millions of bottoms have sat here before me. The springs are well worn, the fabric smelly and familiar. I don't have to be frightened, look, my grandma and grandad did it, he in stiff collar and club tie, she in white muslin straining a little at the life beneath. They did it, my parents did it, now I will do it won't I, arms outstretched, not to hold you, just to keep my balance, sleepwalking to that armchair. How happy we will be. How happy everyone will be. And they all lived happily ever after.

We lay on our bed in the rented room and I fed you plums the color of bruises. Nature is fecund but fickle. One year, she leaves you to starve, the next year, she kills you with love. That year the branches were torn beneath the weight, this year they sing in the wind. There are no ripe plums in August. Have I got it wrong, this hesitant chronology? Perhaps I should call it Emma Bovary's eyes or Jane Eyre's dress. I don't know. I'm in another rented room now trying to find the place to go back to where things went wrong. Where I went wrong. You were driving but I was lost in my own navigation.

Nevertheless I will push on. There were plums and I broke them over you.
You said,'Why do I frighten you?'
Frighten me? Yes you do frighten me. You act as though there is infinite pleasure and time without end. How can I know that? My experience has been that time always ends. In theory you are right, the quantum physicists are right. Time without end. In practice we both wear a watch. If I rush at this relationship it's because I fear for it. I fear you have a door I cannot see and that any minute now the door will open and you'll be gone. Then what? Then what as I bang the walls like the Inquisition searching for a saint? Where will I find the secret passage? For me it'll just be the same four walls.

Ma non-relationship wit Sean [his real name]

I won’t even try fo’ a codename tho’ he reads tis ‘coz he just TOO INDIFF’RENT or TOO DENSE to give a damn. I can imagine him now shruggin’ his shoulders & already typin’ in an NBA or some otha web address to replace mine only halfway thru readin’ tha first sentence of ma post. [“Wala namang picture, haba masyado ng post mo!] Fo’ two years I’ve been havin’ a non-relationship wit him…

AN INTERMISSION OF THOUGHTS: [as heard on tha background]
Maver [referrin’ to tha TV which only had channel 7]: “Ano ba bat nagka-gañan? Ginalaw pa kasi alam namang manood ako ng Jenny eh!
Paver: “Kala ko ba manonood ka ng Meteor Garden kaya ko nga inaayos sa baba eh!”
Maver: “Wala akong sinasabing ganon! Alam namang Jenny na pag ganitong oras eh!”
Paver: “Eh narinig ko sabi mo kay Len sa phone, Meteor Garden na!”
Maver: “Hindi naman ibig sabihin manonood ako nun eh!”
Paver [startin to get upset & raise his voice]: “Aba! rinig na rinig ko kanina gusto mong ipa-ayos yung TV, kaya nga bumaba pa ako eh!
Maver [in a neutral, calm voice]: “Ewan ko sayo, ayoko na ng maingay… basta ako mananahimik na lang ako dito.”
Paver: “Parehong-pareho kayo ng anak mo, ang linaw linaw ng usapan tapos iniiba!”
Maver: “Oo na, sige na! ‘nonood na’ ko ng “Jenny”!
And now to continue…

…He interrupts me ‘bout 20 times durin’ our phone calls just at that crucial moment when am nearin’ tha climax of ma story -juz to GO & PLAY WIT THA CAT. Plus, he is so cold & non-comittal, usin’ one-word answers & unwilling to talk ‘bout thangs that are troublin’ him. Oftentimes, I hafta invent emotions fo’ him to try & guess at how hes really feelin. I think he has PETER PAN SYNDROME. Wut is a PETER PAN SYNDROME? PPS or Peter Pans, according to Dan Diley are men who have NEVER GROWN UP or REFUSE TO GROW UP.

Dan said that those wit PPS are men who:
-> are more keen on bein’ friendly to mere acquaintances than in showin’ love & concern fo’ tha family
-> use “I don’t know” and “I don’t care” as their defense mechanisms.
-> have social incapacity & emotional paralysis.
-> sadness manifested as forc’d gaiety, childish pranks, or nervous laughter.
-> impotent to deal wit an assertive female on equal footing & so dates women who are
younger or whose actions suggest immaturity.
-> say they love ya but can’t seem to remember how to express love.
-> narcissism locks em inside themselves.
-> get hostile when ya reflect on his defensiveness.
-> successful in resistin’ help.
-> rarely finish college in tha usual allotted time/believes they’re employ’d in tha wrong
capacity but fails to do anything bout it but complain.
-> often stingy ‘cept when it comes to their own indulgences.
-> appear to have unexplain’d fears& lack self-confidence but refuse to talk bout it.
-> accuses ya of getting too emotional while they appear to be above it all, sittin’ like a
stone when you are angry.
-> easily offended by jobs they see as beneath em. get into employment difficulty ‘coz of
severe procrastination or become workaholics in an attempt to prove their worth.
-> work hard to have fun @ parties & tend to push themselves beyond reasonable limits
in participative sports.
-> find it impossible to say they’re sorry & find it extremely difficult to express their
feelings.
-> operate wit prejudicial premises you’ll never understand thus you cannot successfully
argue a point wit em.
-> expresses concern ‘bout yer probs only after you’ve complain’d bout his indiff’rence.
-> have lost touch wit their emotions & simply dunno wut they feel.

To rebel against tha tradition that getting old shud be celebrated, I slept ma whole birthday away…

And now I’m awake when every’un else has gone to sleep.

Oh well. At least am not silly, sleep-deprived & brokenhearted like last year’s b-day!

I have alwez been famous fo’ tha poker unreacting unchangin’ expression on ma face & whenever I do react fin’lly, it’d be when tha moment had pass’d -minutes, hours, or even days later. Here is proof…

Around 1 PM today, I was inform’d via text message from a pal that one of ma best pals in tha world is gonna be leavin fo’ tha US for gewd tis Saturday & that her despedida party wud take place next day. As I was busy wit work, I automatically typed a message typically written to tha departer askin her why shez leavin’ me and why she’d never mention’d leavin’ before and then storing that li’l known fact of her li'l stunt of keepin me in tha dark bwt her departure at tha back of ma mind to be return’d to & summon’d forth again only when I’ve finish’d ma tasks.

Later when I was home & had nuthin’ productive to do, out of loneliness, I got to tha habit of thinkin’ up persons I ma felt like callin’ on tha phone. And then I remember’d. One of ma best pals -who’s also one of those few persons whom I’d like to torment wit ma rantings & general complaints ‘bout life at tha other end of tha line- is leavin. And shez leavin’ fo’ gewd. And then I was bawlin’ and gettin’ ma eyes all puffy wit tha mix’d frustration of not comin’ up wit a person to call at that moment & thinkin’ bout tha fututre wit ma narrow’d down list of persons to call.

I hate goin’ to church. It’s not so much as I hate tha actual church procedure itself …not tha singin’ nor tha sittin’ down to listen to tha lecture nor tha gettin’ up to pray fo’ minutes on end nor even tha givin’ of money near tha end. It’s tha circumstances before it that I can't really stand. Every Sunday I git hell from paver makin’ me eat quick when I’ve barely sat & do thangs quick so we can go to church on time. Thursdays I git hell from both paver and maver. I especially loathe Thursdays when I hafta wake up @ 4:30 & go to tha earliest mass since I ain’t have no time fo’ it any otha time since I be workin’ tha rest of tha day. I sooo hate bein’ rush’d! I alwez ask’d paver why we can’t go @ 8pm on Wednesdays instead juz like bro do, but no! He juz want me to wake up @ tha crack of dawn every Thursday & show up lookin’ dead for work! From 4:30 til tha time I git in tha safety of tha church, maver & paver wud be havin’ an endless naggin’ contest between em two tryin’ to outdo each other in raisin’ their voices & givin’ more insults to me. As maver goes to tha afternoon church, paver wud do tha noble job of naggin’ enuf fo’ tha two of em tha moment we leave tha house & it ain’t less fun than he&maver goin’ at it together as paver is tha supreme cuss-spewin’ human & his voice is 5 times as loud & irritatin’ as maver. And I really really hate it tha way they’d git me so disoriented like an annoyin’ person shoutin’ “boo!” at yer face when yer tryin’ to concentrate so that I usually forgit sumthin ‘coz they be practically shovin’ me outta tha house & paver wud run outta tha house in a huff so that I hafta follow his big, long strides coz I ain’t carryin no tricycle coins wit me to git to church. And I hate hate hate leavin’ ma phone/hanky/diskette/earrings/compact and I hate hate hate hate lookin’ like tha wrath of God even more wit tha oldest shirt on ma back & a mismatchd skirt tha product of getting’ dress’d so quickly when there’s still no light & a dragon is breathin’ down yer neck. And I think to ma’self when I’m more grown-up & I git out of their house I won’t go to church at all. Coz I alwez come to church fumin’ mad, wishin’ ill thoughts to ma progenitors & ready to snap @ ma seatmates shud they gimme one funny look or smirk @ ma uncomb’d hair anyway. And I think is it really worth it goin’ to church if it does me more bad than gewd? And anotha thang I hate is when maver bullies me to give more to church. She’d really pick away @ ma conscience tha way she did before when we came to visit relatives & she made me feel really really bad til I buckled down & gave 500 to a relative while she only made bro give a hundred & fifty as if bro don’t git paid twice as much. And anyway, she’d tell me that aside from tha annual “meager” 4-digit figure I give to church [which shed say is sooo selfish of me] I shud give ma own alms 2x a week to church now & ain’t I ashamed coz bro does now. I say let’s talk again when I’m 25 [bro’s age]. I know that all tha naggin’ & hell I git from her & paver ‘bout church thangs affect ma relationship to tha Big Man. They make me lose tha enthusiasm I wud’ve otherwise had fo’ luvin’ God more freely & more wholeheartedly. How cud I when I alwez associate God ways like goin to church or givin’ alms to hell from maver & paver? Mebbe that’s why people hate religion. I mean why does it hafta be so difficult? I mean mebbe it’s not so difficult but really followin’ tha rules or realy bein’ into it like bein’ active or bein’ an officer or bendin yer back backwards to suck up to God is difficult. And to be a know-it-all self-important prissy person -which I’ll eventually be if I try to git active & try to score a ticket to heaven- duzen really sit well wit me. Does God love masochists? Why doesn’t He want us to do fun thangs like have sex before marriage or love sumone from anotha religion? Are we all goin’ to hell? Exactly how much can I git away wit and still go to heaven?

After applyin’ in a daily broadsheet through sumone paver had tha chance to interact wit in his Tamiya days sumtym in August, tha friend fin’lly came through for me & tha daily call’d me to come over last week fo’ an interview. Wit clients lookin’ down on me wit their haughty noses in ma current place of employment & tha possibility of bein’ kick’d out still hoverin’ over ma pretty head, I was all willin’ to look at options that are possibly bett’r & go fo’ sidelines that cud bring in more fun [& money!] fo’ me. Only when I went, it turn’d out not to be an interview but an information sheet filling-up session a.k.a. tha name-dropping questionnaire. Now I usually prepare for tha irritating info sheet fill-up sesh by bringin’ ma notebook of answer’d clichéd queschns [a notebook wit ready made answers to quescns like wut is ma best qualitites & worst etc.] but nuthin prepar’d me for tha 6-page headache I spent answerin’ in a chilly empty room. A quarter of tha whole 6-page info sheet pretty much dealt wit enumeratin’ all tha peepz I know in tis lifetime & then some. Pages 1-2 ask’d me who ma parents & sibs are, their age, their occupation, their residence & their company address. Same goes fo’ ma maternal & paternal grandparents. Tha same pages ask for persons I know who are workin’ for tha media, advertising agency, radio & also asks for their position, company address, residence, etc. It also ask’d to enumerate those I know who are workin’ for a hotel, motel or inn as well as those who are working for banks, financial investment companies, etc. Al must come of course, wit their position, office address, etc. 3-4 demands that I name 10 persons from private entities who are close to ma family & who cud vouch for ma integrity & honesty & also asks for tha works. [mention’d abuv] It also ask’d fo’ anotha 10 persons I know in tha government who cud also vouch fo’ ma integrity. Pages 5-6 ask fo’ tha exact number of uncles I have as well as exact number of aunts then proceed to ask me to enumerate them as well as their age, & again the works. [office address, position, residence] It also ask’d me to enumerate ma nephews & nieces wit corresponding info bout them and also provided sufficient blanks fo’ uncles-in-law and aunts-in-law wit corresponding mini-profile. As I can’t understand some of tha queschns & can’t consult any’un to ask queschns bout tha queschns since tha antipatika-lookin’ admin person banish’d me in an empty room at another floor, I left most of tha queschns blank. Fo’ instance, I can’t understand if uncles-in-law & aunts-in-law pertain to ma husband’s uncles & aunts [tha way I see it] or to ma uncles & aunts’ spouses [tha way paver sees it when I texted him to ask], so I juz put a big “N/A” over tha blanks. And tha nephews & nieces bit, I dunno if they only want ma bro’s children [in which case I won’t be able to fill it up as ma bro’s still single] or they want any which nephew/niece I cud come up wit even if they be nephews I have through 3rd or 4th cuzin relations. And also I dunno if I shud include ma cuzin’s stepchildren or only put those which has our blood in em. ‘Twas also confusin’ to answer tha queschn which goes wut office machine I can operate. It duzen say enumerate programs but machines/equipments so I juz wrote fax machine & personal computer instead of Adobe, Word etc. also I wasn’t sho’ whether to put personal computer or include tha pc’s brand. And then it also got confusin’ like it wud start to ask a steady stream of queschns answerable by yes or no & then tha next queschn [which is lined up next to tha yes or no queschn like it belong’d in one category] wud suddenly have you choosin between 3 options wit blanks preceding em -& it diden say “check any of tha 3”. And then it also asks fo’ some ancient info like yer elementary & high school rating and asks some thing I’m totally clueless ‘bout like tha number of words I can type per minute which diden even give options to choose from & also ask’d intrudin’ queschns like ma monthly expenses. [as if I’d tell em tha fact that I spend more than I earn!]

Feeling for the lost and confused
Yesterday I watch’d 4 men sitting across looking alert and swiveling their heads left and right in anticipated search for their destination. It’s Father Abraham & his 3 children from faraway. Faraway was immediately assum’d as a look was taken at their dust-cover’d outdated shoes and bulky bags. Tha three sons all had tha same dark skin, straight hair, and slanted eyes, obviously takin’ after their mother rather than the curly-hair’d, wide-eyed, fair skinn’d Father Abraham. I watch’d em wit tha same concentration as they watch’d tha road, waitin’ for em to git off & curious if they really know where they’re going.
Today as I got on tha jeep wit paver, luck had me seated next to an extreme sideway sittin, butt-pointin’, rigid lady in her forties who wuden budge when paver was askin her to move so that her rear had me & paver cramm’d into a very small space in tha jeep’s corner while her fat ass was takin up space fo’ two passengers. Soon, anotha man loaded onto her otha side & ask’d her to do tha same thang, but stil she refus’d to sit facin’ forward like any sane passenger wud do. Then in tha middle of tha ride, she suddenly spoke a stream of fast Chinese words to her seatmate on tha left to which tha seatmate responded by givin’ her directions in Tagalog. Unable to understand Tagalog, she spoke more words in quick frantic Chinese directing it to tha man next to her seatmate [to which he responded in Tagalog] then to tha sleepy old man wit slanting eyes across from us who shook his head no to her. By then, I was laughin’ so hard at ma poor serious Chinese seatmate [whose back was turn’d to me] that I was ‘fraid that she [or her rear] cud feel me shakin’ wit laughter & be offended by my behavior. When I recover’d I ask’d her where she was going in English and wonder’d why no one thought of speakin’ English to her. By then I really start to feel fo’ tha Sharp Rear & I nudg’d paver to ask him to help tha lady out but paver was in his suplado no-talking-in-the-jeep mood & shruggd me off haughtily as he –prolly tha only one in tha jeep who’s not payin attention to tha Chinese Sharp Rear in strict compliance to his weird no-talking-in-the-jeep rule- pretended to be preoccupied with tha streets. We learn’d that tha Sharp Rear was goin’ to Ongpin. At one point, Sharp Rear was about to jump down tha jeep after a student got off but every’un shouted for her to stay in her seat, as we were still far off from her destination. Tis got tha fair-skinnd lady across from us ‘fessin up that she was goin to Ongpin too & that they can git off together. It also turn’d out that Snow White can understand Sharp Rear afterall & even spoke some back to Sharp Rear. After some time, paver barked tha announcement fo’ our payment in his booming voice which no doubt scared nervous Sharp Rear on ma left & set me off to anotha round of laughing again.

Wut got me feeling for the lost and confused
Since Christmas, I’ve been meaning to go to Ali Mall to buy ma’self some sweater I once saw & fell in luv wit. Failin’ to get it after tha Christmas break, I resolv’d to buy it before tha New Year break ended & it’s back to work again. But on tha Sunday I was plannin’ to buy it, Maver diden wake me up like she usually does so we cud go to church in tha morn. Since paver partied at a neighbor’s birthday tha previous night and had but little sleep, she told me that paver & me wud hafta attend tha 4-6pm shift while she & brover attended tha early mass. Thinkin’ she did tis on purpose since she knows I git tha urge to mall-hop on Sundays & prolly thinkin’ that I can’t venture off by ma own at night, I ventured off by ma own soon as me & paver got home & soon as I fetch’d ma bag & wallet to head into tha unknown at 6:30 pm in ma church garb of skirt & feet-hurtin’ sandals. I got on a Cubao jeep, ignored tha rowdy jologs who made jokes ‘bout me bein’ tha other one’s gurlfriend & ask’d tha fare collector beside tha driver how much I shud pay for a trip goin to Ali Mall. Encouraging & helpful as all drivers & driver assistants shud be to passengers who don’t know where they’re headed, tha fare collector responded by not sayin’ anythang at all & lookin’ at me wit a smirk on his face. Good thang tha elderly driver responded. Sometime when tha only passengers left were me, a gurl beside me & a lady across, tha lady held up her bag to show me & tha gurl tha wide slash it had on its side & tha trail of white sugar beside her. Seem’d like tha rowdy jologs slash’d her bag, which only contain’d store-bought sugar & some apples. Tha lady said that she had been keepin’ her mint in her pocket & so tha boys fail’d to catch anythang from her bag but tha sprinklin’ of sugar comin’ loose. Durin’ tha ride, tha constant feelin’ that I have miss’d ma destination kept me to continuously ask tha driver “Ali Mall na ba?” Fin’lly, tha fare collector told me to git off at a Mercury drugstore & told me that walkin’ a few miles more towards tha direction he pointed wud lead me to Ali Mall. Since Rustann’s was tha nearest visible lighted sign in tha night, I went straight for it & tried a few exits before rememberin’ that Ali Mall is right next to SM and started lookin’ out for SM as well. At Ali Mall, I found out that tha sweater was gone & so I consoled ma’self by buyin’ not-as-gorgeous blouse at tha same store which I’m wearin’ fo tha first time today here at work. [ma boss had not yet return’d that’s why am postin ;-)] since I was frustrated in not findin’ tha sweater, I went to SM to buy a bottle of GAP Dream instead but once again I was disappointed & not wantin’ to go home wit juz one purchase, I bought 2 soaps at Rustann’s beauty bar. At quarter to 8, I thought ‘twas time to go home. I walk’d & walk’d till I found a place where there are alotta jeeps comin’ & goin’ but after observin’ em, I found out that they were all headed to either Antipolo or Project sumthin so I walk’d some more till I’ve been ‘round tha same places twice, tryin to figure out where Isetann is as I remember’d goin’ there wit maver & paver on our way home a month ago. When I fin’lly found it, I got on a Quiapo/España jeep, told tha driver “isang Altura”, then immediately paid tha exact amount I paid comin’ to Ali Mall. When we were at ma school, I suddenly understood why paver alwez pays our fare only when we’re about to git off jeeps…tha driver had a flat tire & as there were only three of us left in his jeep, he gave back tha big, gangly man beside me his money & told him to git off, kept tha boy beside me who’s headed to Vito Cruz only a few miles away, & totally ignored tha clueless gurly carryin’ brand new soaps & blouse who dunno where shes goin’. So I got off after tha big man & figured out that I shud prolly board a jeep wit tha same signboard as tha one that went flat so when tha next Quiapo jeep pass’d, I flagg’d & happily boarded next to tha driver since I rarely git to sit upfront & I lov’d sittin’ in front & pretendin’ to be tha fare collector. Wut I forgot was tha fact that I was wearin’ a skirt & hafta take a big step to be able to board tha high seat of ma coveted passenger position & bein’ tha clumsy oaf that I am, prolly flash’d tha driver. I handed him a twenty-peso bill and repeated “isang Altura” but he wasn’t carryin change & told me that 3 Pesos wud be okay wit him as I don’t have change either ‘cept fo’ 4 Peso coins which I stupidly thought was not enuf as it stuck to ma mind that tha fare was still 5 Pesos even if we’re already in España. I handed him 4. Ten minutes into tha ride, he felt tha need to break tha silence by announcin’ “Ikaw na lang pala pasahero ko. Is-pesyal ka pala!” to which tryin to figure out if he was juz bein friendly or hittin’ on me, I replied wit a weak “Oo nga eh.” When we reach’d Quiapo, it began to enter ma mind that tha reason tha jeep was label’d Quiapo was coz Quiapo was its last destination before turnin’ back round to head where it came from. Suddenly ma clear steady vision of goin home started to become cloudy. I only brighten’d up when tha driver started shoutin “O, es-em, es-em!!!” to egg passersby on to board his jeep. Of course, I was on tha right jeep! Tha driver did say SM Centerpoint, diden he? I was on tha right track home! So I was confident even if we pass’d by ma former school again. And then tha face of Sonny Belmonte in his billboard came into ma view. Ain’t Sonny Belmonte tha mayor of Quezon City? And where was I again? I consoled ma’self thinking I was in Araneta & that eventually it’ll head to Centerpoint then Altura. I was doin’ a pretty gewd job of convincin’ ma’self when passengers begin to declare “Fairview” as their destination and I panicked once again. Tha last straw was when I begin seein’ tha big flashy signs for restaurants & bars in Timog like Pegasus & such. Fumin’ that tha driver diden say a word when I clearly told him I was goin’ to Altura hours ago, [& to think he was beside me!] I ask’d if he still had any plans of goin’ to Altura at tha same tellin’ him that I thought I was on tha wrong jeep. Instead of tellin’ me where to git off & where to ride tha right jeep home, tha driver juz smiled at me & told me hell be headin back to Quiapo pretty soon. Thinkin’ that was that, I resign’d back to ma seat til tha guy seatin’ at ma back spoke up & told me I shud git off at _ [can’t remember] ‘coz I’d only stray farther away from home shud I wait for tha jeep to go to Quiapo again. At tha right moment, tha guy told me to git off & instructed me to walk til I was past tha fly-over before ridin’ a bus label’d “Crossing Ibabaw” then getting’ off at tha “Central”. He diden tell me if I shud cross or juz wait for a bus after reachin’ tha fly-over. I was ‘bout to cross when a guy walk’d past & I stopp’d him to confirm whether I was headed fo tha right direction. In utter hopelessness & doom to git home right away, I also shared ma misfortunes fo’ tha earlier part of tha evenin’. Takin pity, he said that we cud ride tha bus together & proceeded in introducin’ himself & askin fo’ ma cel no. [which I diden give] prolly mullin’over whether he shud actually sacrifice bein’ late to work [he told me later on he was headed to work in Makati] to accompany a stranger to her destination, it took him eons to fin’lly flag down a “Crossing Ibabaw” bus tho’ I’ve watch’d about 10 buses pass us by [4 of which are almost empty]. Fin’lly, I tapp’d him impatiently on tha shoulder & ask’d wheteher he diden think it was time fo’ us to board a bus. After textin’ his companion, he ask’d if ‘twas a’ite wit me to stand in a bus before boarding a bus that was jampack’d wit passengers. Bein’ tha lucky gurl that I was agreed and spent half of tha ride’s duration bumpin’ into tha scrawny guy at ma back & sittin’ once on tha face of tha woman seated at ma back everytime tha bus wud lurch forward. Seein’ as I cuden stand straight wut more go thru tha contents of ma bag to git out ma wallet & pay tha konduktor, tha stranger who was ma key towards headin’ home paid for both our fare. At Mega Mall where he told me ‘twas time to git off, he even ask’d a guard fo’ directions & cross’d tha street wit me towards where many right jeeps goin home are available fo’ me to hop on. After givin me his cel no. [I still refus’d to give him mine] I was once again on a Quiapo jeep but tis time on one that’ll git me home. Tha last surprise fo’ tha night came as tha man sittin’ upfront turn’d out to be some sorta criminal coz two policemen shone their flashlight on his face & got him to unload tha jeep. Of course tha underbridge market I hafta walk thru to git home was already very dim & very empty which is an appropriate semi-ending for ma night out of listless walkin’ & hopeless commutin’. Tha grand finale was 5 slaps across tha face from ma maver when I got home at 10:30 pm.

Was it only two weeks ago?
That I had a chat wit ma bro’s gf? Early into their 4-year relationship, I used to bond wit bigbro’s gf every Sunday when we’d sit next to each otha in church and gossip evry time tha choir wud sing. Those chances became fewer & fewer as we don’t git to arrive in church at tha same moment anymore & even if we do git seated next to each other, we found we had nuthin to say to each otha’s face. But two weeks ago, bro’s gf was unusually chatty to me tryin’ to fit in all she had to say before tha church service ended & she hafta be whisk’d away by ma brotha. She was tellin me of her plans to quit work as a teller. And that she plann’d to study again. She plann’d to study nursing and as she hafta start all over again knew that by tha time she finish’d shell school shell prolly be too old fo’ marriage. Said she told bro she plannd on studyin’ at De Los Santos, which is near our place.
Well, last week, she refus’d to go to church wit ma brotha –which, wit tha right amount of pestering, bro told me to have sumthin to do wit his comin home late last night from his office’s Christmas party and tha fact that tha gf’s brotha saw ma bro wit anotha gurl in SM Mega Mall. That, and prolly tha fact that bro’s usin anotha gurly’s Santa Clause-capped face as screensaver in his phone. So that last week, tha gf [now ex-gf] weirdly gave mum a cake wit a thank-you card attach’d …and she never gave anything to us in their 4-year relationship ‘cept fo’ that pillow she gave me on their first year together. And I heard her belting out a sad [teary?] song beneath me that day she refus’d to go wit bro to church. [she lives downstairs as one of our boarders] Well, who cud’ve thought ma bro had it in him to cheat on his gf? Tha gurl downstairs was his first gf while ma bro was not tha gf’s first. Maver, paver & I were all bettin’ that tha gf wud break his heart sumday seein’ as how he used to be so smitten & all but bro proved us wrong. I know I used to say I can’t stand tha ex-gf but she wasn’t really mean or anythang I was prolly juz jealous like I am over any’un most of tha time anyway. And anyway, any’un wud’ve felt sympathy fo’ tha gurl ‘spesh when I remember ‘twas only 2 weeks ago when tis conversation happen’d:
Me: “Terno, a!” [referring to ma bro & tha ex-gf’s matching turquoise attire]
Ex-gf: “Siyempre! [looping an arm lovingly towards bro’s arm] …may sayaw pa kami ñan eh!”
Bro [jokingly]: “Best friend na nga lang tayo, diba?”
I don’t think tha ex-gf took his jokes and hints about supposed chicks @ work seriously ‘til her provided her solid evidence.

Me honing Toyz’ call center agent skills
From tha moment we say hello till tha end of our phone convos, it has become an unspoken agreement fo’ me & Toyz, ma job batchmate [we got hired @ tha same month] to talk in fluent English complete wit accents everytime we talk on tha phone to hone Toyz’ call agent skills. But to further polish his skills, I ask’d him to pretend that I’m a customer. Here’s part of our convo:
Toyz: Good evening, ma’am! What is your account number?
Me: My account number’s 123456…..
Toyz: What is the account number’s first and last name?
Me: It’s 444332516 and 77899..
Toyz [cutting in]: I’m sorry but I was asking for the account’s first and last name.
Me: Oh. I forgot.
Toyz: How would you like me to call you ma’am?
Me: Bitch.
Toyz: Well, what is your husband’s name?
Me: Saddam
Toyz: And what is your pin number?
Me: That’s personal! Why are you asking for so many numbers anyway?
Toyz: Well, bitch, we have to get your number so that we may open your account
***
How tha boys treat me @ work:
Caren and Kelmer are both polite –Kelmer never miss tha chance to say ‘scuse me’ when reaching fo’ paper that’s situated on top of ma pc as if I’m blockin his way when in fact I’m a foot apart while Caren who’s juz 4 steps away from me alwez feels tha need to git up from his seat to talk to me when relaying orders from our boss and speaks in a super slow soft tone as if hes givin out instructions to a child or a fool.
Eypi thinks I’m a li’l kid. An example is when I overheard him tellin Kelmer ‘bout some kid who collects old newspapers at their home…‘Siguro malaki lang ng konti si Shayn sa kaña’, I heard him say, and today when he ask’d me about tha Christmas goodies I’ve accumulated [he diden ask tha OJT who was younger than me], he was reminiscin’ how gewd ‘twas to git gifts & money in tha olden dayz as if hez 85 years old instead of 25.

Wut happens when ya dress in yer oldest most drab clothes?
Last week, ma boss rang me on ma cel to tell me to go to work on a Saturday to revise tha copy I've been workin' on. To mourn his decision and to make him feel tha inconvenience he’ve caus’d me by makin him think I left in house clothes, I dress’d in a loose black old shirt, ancient denims, and ma oldest loafers a.k.a. tha flood shoes –ma choice of footwear whenever I hafta go thru mud puddles, semi-floods & other icky unrefined places. Tha original plan of goin to Greenhills wit maver and tha fact that we cud stil go right after work completely escaped ma mind as I focused on putting together ma I-shuden-be-workin attire. So that later when we got to GH, we came across 5 people I knew from school whom I haven't seen for ages - 4 of whom look'd me up & down critically, 2 of whom are ultimate fashion slaves, and 1 of whom used to look up at me fo’ ma so-call'd fashion sense.

Ma apostrophes ain't showin right! Hey blogger, sup wit that?
***
Office gossip
I had been too engross'd in writin' copies and lookin' fo' pictures to match and printing out labels on envelopes and oglin' ma crush that I had li'l time fo' bloggin. Now am gona tell y'all a li'l sumthin bwt ma O.mates/ma boss' employees but so as not to give their identities away, I've jumbled their initials to give em anonymity (?). And so here are more or less tha characters I had been immersed in while I wasn't bloggin:
Tha Veterans -Tha veterans are those who've been 'round fo' at least 2 christmases now. These are:
Caren -Hired evr since tha company started, hez tha boss' right man & second hand. Hez also tha media dir. & tha graphic art. Wit long hair, tall posture, a loud pleasant voice and gazillions of stories, hez a strong presence in tha O. Hez older than tha rest of us but younger than Mang Blawjaw, Ate Demi & Mob [f'course!] He alwez comes in late & alwez wear a striped long-sleeved therefore remindin me of tha banana in pyjamas. Likes to play tha song "Fighting Temptations" over & over again. Fave phrase: "Laugh trip, pare!"
Mang Blawjaw -Tha jolly ol' company driver. ThO' hez a bit ancient he knows all tha latest hit charts from listenin to his alaga's music & even belts out Black-eyed peas songs. Tha middle of his brows is fix'd in a perpetual fold as if he forgot to undo a frown on his face tho his mouth & eyes are alwez alit wit laughter & mischief. Fave phrase: "Janel, kelan namin makukuha..?" and "Wala nang pasok!"
Janel -Tha new mummy of a bouncin' baby boy, shez also tha payroll giver & tha accountant. Tha "beachball look"? suited her so well that before givin' birth, she was ma officiall fave preggy ladee. Shez still pudgy and cute as a five-year-old. Shez also tha reigning Super-What-Word and Super-Text-Twist champ. Fave phrase: "Uwi na ko ha!"
Ate Demi -Mob's mayordoma and tha queen of tha household. Shez a woman made of pure steel, sharp tongue, and looks made of pure contempt and pure suspicion, which she generously casts on every'un her boss included. She bark'd at me on ma first day of work & managd to scare tha very tall Kelmer into skippin' a day of pool-playin'. She likes to wear socks and/or gardening boots around tha house. With her super short hair & widening eyes, she has tha classic amazona look. Together wit Caren, they are tha two employees that comprise Mob's solid blocks of stability. Fave phrase: "Rey-di na, sir!" [calling Mob to breakfast]
Newbies -Employees who've been 'round fo' barely a year. These are:
Kelmer -Wit his lanky 6-foot-frame, fair skin, braces, and spanking good looks, it's easy to see why Mob put him in charge of delivering thangs to clients. He duzen talk much tho' ,givin off a suplado vibe. A certified billiards addict, he gobbles up his lunch in one-minute juz to be able to play more rounds of pool at Mob's house. He also has tha habit of headin on straight home after delivering/pickin up thangs and findin' out that Mob's not in tha office. Quite clumsy, I've known him to be tha upsetter of tha lamp that broke during a billiard session and tha culprit of tha mysterious spilt pitcher of water left in Mob's kitchen in ma 2-month stay at tha O. And he smells of Dep gel. Fave phrase: "Game na!" and [through text]"Diyan ba si sir?"
Eypi -“Tha events manager, hez also Mob's trusted phone call maker. Sumkinda newspaper fetish, he takes tha company's broadsheets home & digs around in his free time fo' more. He has one of tha most prominent stomachs I've seen around. He also goes to tha loo twice in an hour and turns tha aircon off lest he keel over from too much coldness after which he'll turn it on again when he feels hot and then off again later on. Hez also tha gentlest among tha three fellas. Fave phrase: "...para ebribadi hapi!"
Raul -Tha OJT. He started work on tha same day I did. Tho' he duzen git paid yet, hez prolly tha richest among us since he goes to and from work in a cab, bought a 6630 wit in a week of losin his mobile to hold-uppers, and bought tha most expensive gift fo' our Kris Kringle. Janel said he resembles Tyrone of Starstruck. Hez also a metrosexual and buys himself stuff like self-tanning kits. His bag contains a moisturizing spray fo' tha face and perfume among others. Fave phrase: Nag-bu-busy-busyhan! and Friendster na 'to!" [usually declared as Mob leaves tha office]
Pata -Tha latest addition to Mob's payroll list, shez also tha new maid & Ate Demi's assistant. Compared to Ate Demi, Pata looks frail wit her small frame and passive temperament. In her first month, she had worn green CAT pants [prolly hand-me-downs from Mob's sons] day in & day out. Now she wears ordinary shorts. I have not yet heard her talk long enuf to find a recurrin' fave phrase fo' her.
Tha Boss:
Mob -Tha great source of income. He duzen scream when piss'd at us but reproaches us quietly when no one else is present so that we won't git embarrasd in front of tha others and juz mutters his "hay naku" along wit a big sigh. He cud git quite demanding at times and his praises come wit criticisms. Alwez seen in his fave white Chinese-collared polo. Likes to keep ribbons from his open'd Christmas gifts. Fave phrase: "Hay nakuu!"

According to this site, I have all of 2,508,014,964 seconds to live

For tha past few days unknown forces had been conspiring against me so that I cuden git ma hands on ma 13th month-pay. Thursday when I was s’pos’d to git it along wit evry’un else, I did not have P17 change so that I hafta wait til tha next day while tha three fellas ‘round me celebrated & drank booze in tha office. [tha boss had gone off to sumwhere.] Friday had me hurryin’ off to meet pals sumwhere so that claimin’ yesterday’s loot totally escap’d ma mind till I was a block away from tha O & too ashamed to turn back to get it. Fin’lly juz when I’m equipp’s wit baryas & loose change and memory’s gewd, tha key to tha metal box [from which our cash is kept] chose today of all days to disappear. Gewd thing ma ‘mate thought of bringing tha box to a nearby mall to have it open’d -however silly he might’ve look’d carryin’ it. Ended up bringing home a very thick wad of mint as bonus consisted of a pile of 20 & 50-peso bills.
***
“Ano ba yan, daig mo pa si Fernando Poe!” --maver to me when she found out I had toasted bread witout removing tha newspapers on top of tha toaster.

Procrastination is refusin to start/proceed wit an article you're makin to frantically search for some fact you think ya can't do witout which ya end up not usin' anyway.

“It’s ugly, darling!”, a fat balding foreigner told me as I passed him sitting outside Harisson Plaza’s Delifrance smoking a cigarette. “…Chewing gum is!”, he added as I gave him an odd look. And so is smoking, mister! *Pop!*

Work is...

diving dumbly towards tha wrong phone everytime one of tha four phones ring.

Weighing tha Pros and Cons of RRCG and G-liner
by 5h1n3 Santiago, Expert Commuter
RRCG is cheaper but havin fewer air-conditioning vents, it’s also hotter while G-liner, although cooler, is also costly-er, spesh when ya git stuck wit garapal kunduktors, and G-liners are teeming wit em nasty fellas who charge a peso or so more than necessary or pretend to forget to give back yer change so they’ll be able to pocket em.. [tsk tsk!]
Verdict: Since it takes forever to ride tha bus [ya hafta wait til every’un gets on & off] & I don’t git to ride it now to ma current place of employment…Jeep na lang! Masaya pa! I spesh like it when:
1] Passengers are united for tha common goal of wreckin’ manong driver’s roof shall he fail to stop at a passenger’s meek yelp of “para”.
2] When manong driver is fast & furious on tha road spesh when passin’ up&down bridges so that tummy feels like I left it for a moment. [Slow is boring!]
3] When manong driver try to look professional [?] and fashionable [?] by announcing his status to tha public & wearing a Good Morning towel as a cap on his forehead.
4] When tha mere appearance/clothes/accessory/companion of a co-passenger keeps me amused through tha rest of tha ride.

If failing to post recent entries in a blog is displaying very unbumlike character, then so it is!
Goodbye, bum-hood!;-)
‘twas fun while tha remaining bucks lasted! Hello, new money! [Come to mama..!] May tha unknown forces stay where they are and fail at pushing me outta ma receivin’ end [of money..!] & good graces for a looong time ‘coz it’s so damn gewd to be employ’d. [yea!] I’m not a statistic anymore! [just autistic! Har,har, and har!]
***
I know it’s normal fo’ buntis peeps to lihi over otha people, but right now I’m naglilihi over a buntis. Tha buntis I’m talking about is tha 25-yr-old nine-month preggy accountant at our office. Shez so round and cute that she makes me gigil! Another office mate looks juz like ma uncle. For some reason he also reminds me of someone else. Guess who. Ma secret name for him is Poohbear.

i-mood: Internet-deprived

Tha last time I used our telephone before it was unreasonably disconnected was when I “ran away from home” three weeks ago. Since then I haven’t bother’d much about bloggin’ since bloggin’ in Internet cafes while sumbody else looks over yer shoulder duzen really appeal to me.
Did I really ran away? I did not. T’was more like takin’ an overnight trip sumwhere witout givin tha rents a chance to agree or disagree. Afterall, ya don’t run away then tell tha one you’re runnin away from where you’re headed, right? Which was wut I did. I call’d em up soon as I left em and told em where I was stayin’ before our phone died mysteriously &was it ma fault they can’t call me back? Absolutely not! So wut if I dress’d up for church as if I was goin’ wit paver as usual then sneak’d out when he was in tha bathroom? I cuden have done it any otha way! Of course ma accomplice & gracious patron[ess?] had outdone herself that day, treatin me to movie, arcade & dinner @ Greenbelt when a quiet night at her house consumin’ away her internet account wud have been enuf and later she also lemme do juz that, lettin’ me invite more friendsters for ma account. I also casually climb’d ma host’s shelf to reach & grab a book or two from its ceiling-high location before we left her house and proceeded to Gabby’s for our second breakfast where his parents had tha misfortune of hearin ma early morning drum-banging disturbance after G pointed out tha irresistible noise-wreakin’ instrument to me.
Amidst all of these, I still have no Internet! [yes, I hafta post tis on a café sumwhere in Anonas, tha heart of drug-addicts & pocket-pickers –who better not be lookin’ over ma shoulders! ]
Tha following week was spent job-huntin’ wit ma h.s. friendster Toy. Apparently, all ma otha pals & acquaintances have found themselves jobs. And so I got re-acquainted wit Toy and spent four days [two Tuesdays, a Wednesday & a Thursday] job-huntin’ wit Toy. Discover’d a lot bout him since tha last time we really bonded was way back in high school when we used to bruise each other by slappin’, pinchin’, and usin’ our pens to draw lines at each other’s exposed skin [which we almost did again once on a bus ride home.]
In four days I found out that Toy had tha unconscious habit of:
1] pinchin’ his nose.
2] foldin’ his upper lip inwards so that half of his upper teeth is shown to ya.
And tha conscious habit of:
1] goin’ to tha loo every half hour.
Besides job-huntin’, we also hunted for men among those whom we chanced upon who might be wearin’ tight tank tops or sleeveless shirts tack’d inside high-waisted pants, and categorized em as “maskulados” while tha gorgeous men we meet git to be categorized as “papa-ble” or “delicious”. There was also tha unannounced “pa-baratan” contest which we realized after Toy tried to git out of payin’ me tha forty bucks he owed me [which he promised to pay on tha bus ride home] by tryin to distract me wit stories; earlier when I dismiss’d tha idea of eatin at Pizza Hut, claimin’ an allergy for places which had service charges; and again when we tried chatted nonstop on tha bus tryon’ to ignore tha “konduktor” in tha hopes that he’ll forget to collect our fare. Since a business management graduate and a journalism graduate could only have call centers as common applyin’ ground, we decided to perfect our English along tha way complete wit exaggerated American/sometimes Brittish accents so that tha man in front of us at tha escalator look’d back at us and stared while Toy and me carried on wit our conversation wit completely serious expressions on our faces. There was this instance in Makati when we encounter’d harmless lookin’ people which Toy identified to be ralliers and before I knew it, he was miles ahead of me runnin’ as fast as his long skinny legs could carry him. When I catched up wit him, I found that he had ceased runnin’ but was takin’ brisk hurried steps along one of tha wide steps of a five-stepp’d stairway towards some shrine. In his haste to escape tha ralliers, he had climb’d sideways into a shrine which I think wasn’t made fo’ public walkin’. When I noticed tis and found that I ma’self was walkin’ on a step a notch lower than Toy’s wit no one else on tha stairway, I told him how I thought t’was prohibited. He came back down on tha sidewalk but not before retorting “Eh bata pa naman tayo eh!” I found that the slightest signs of scorning could make him spring defense for his actions. Finally, high school nostalgia, boredom, and improved tolerance for physical pain [or mebbe Ruth’s masochism is catching] got me tryin’ to git Toy interested in tha never-ending “gantihan” of slapping & pen-drawing on tha bus ride home. I started by askin him if he knew wut an arm-burn is. Witout waitin for his reply, I proceeded to demonstrate it to his right arm. He reacted by gettin’ out his pen. After protesting for a second, I gave him ma left hand so he can take vengeance but he seem’d to have changed his mind after a minute, capping his pen and placing it back in his plastic envelope. I also tried to see if he was still “madamot” like he was in high school. Seein’ a “nenok”-worthy cute Hua Ze Lei pad tha size of a Post-it among his belongings, I ask’d if I could help myself, to which he gave a very cross “Later.” He did gave me a piece when I pestered him again and just counted out tha Hua Ze Lei’s I’ve sneak’d from him in ma bag when I got more.
Tha Singaporean neighbors have got to pay for hackin’ our telephone line and address!
All in all, job-hunting wit Toy had been fun. He is actually more generous [lettin me steal as many friendsters of his as I want and escorting me to a company that had no job openings for him], less vengeful [in gantihan], and as kwela and game for anythang as ever.

pop quiz: Wutz red and angry and in-between ma brows?
***
I think that ma poor hearing skills aren't fit to be in a call center workplace. {Say wut..?} Too poor to endure & tolerate a stream of soft-spoken deliberately superfast slang words thrown at me during interview by a nasty sleeveless-clad nasty Medusa. So that at tha end when she told me I can come back when I'm better after 3 months, it took all ma strength to keep from blurtin' that she could do away wit fake eyes {contact lenses} anyway.
***
correction to pop quiz: Wut ARE red and angry and in-between ma brows?

Jeepin'

all too friendly leaded air and scent of worn tires
drifted to my nose
strangers side by side and face to face
all in companionable silence
grateful at grandma sleeping across me in clashy floral terno
generous towards Albert Martinez at my left
forgiving at man wit lousy bowl haircut
comfortable in my seat
brimming with humanity for all
smiling at the few moments
of non-attempt at social interaction
leaving mang jun alone as he decides
whether to bring me to my death or
destination

I know that condemning ma’self for ma ambiguous place in tha universe won’t help me a bit. Sorry, God. Thanks, Red and P.I.C.

Havin' nuthin' to do on ma hands had brought me to dwell for too long on tis illusion which is ma deluded vision of sumthin spesh goin on between us. I had enlarged it and have been overly sentimental over tha smallest thangs that I've always treasured about ya which might not be acts of love afterall. You might have never cared.

portrayin tha irate caller
After spendin’ three hours every night tryin’ in vain to connect to INFOCOM, I fin’lly gave em a call once again tis noon to know tha real deal between ma card and its lousy connection. Was plannin’ on givin’ tha operator a piece of ma mind til a guy answer’d –a guy who sounded gay. Since I’m fond of gay persons, I decided to spare him & juz ask’d wut tha deal wit ma card is. Turn’d out that ma card had already ran out of credits after only one measly post in ma blog. Shock’d and dumbfounded, I mumbled thanks and hang up. When I had gather’d wits, I call’d again. Tis time a guy answer’d. An all-business-soundin’ English speakin guy named Andrew. He was not as efficient as tha gay & made me wait for ages before it fin’lly dawn’d on him to ask me for tha card’s serial no. etc. which he shud have known from tha start like tha gay or I shud have told him [had I known that was wut took him so long] to save us both tha trouble. I was civil to him all tha time. In fact I was infinitely polite. I politely ask’d if I cud speak to tha manager. [to which he said yes but made no move to hand tha phone over to somebody else.] I politely told him that their company sucks. And that I know it ain’t his fault that it does but maybe he shud think of workin’ for a better company, say mebbe a good call center. And also politely told him I gave their company bad press since I wrote all ‘bout it here. And he juz listen’d at tha other line, not breathin & takin it all in & then I felt a bit guilty but not so much since I was polite all tha time and practiced tha rules of etiquette. [I think]. Was I a bitch? Am not even pms-ing.

Today I got laid. There. Did that shock you? Shall I repeat it? I GOT SOME today. I GOT LAID. Of course I diden, you say. How could I? I have NO ONE TO DO IT WITH. I have STRICT PARENTS. And above all, I DON’T GO OUT OF THE HOUSE ALONE. Okay, so I’m juz trippin’. I DID NOT get laid. But suppose I did? It had juz occurred to me that GETTING LAID is the absolute BANE OF MY EXISTENCE. Ma parents seem to have gotten it in their head at a very early age [around tha time I was born] that EVERY GUY WANTS TO SLEEP WIT ME. Or mebbe it’s I WANT TO SLEEP WIT ANY GUY. Ergo tha CHAPERONED TRIPS to any place ‘cept when I’m wit RUTH, ma GIRL friend WIT THA CAR. As much as possible, they want me to STAY AWAY from places that have GUYS in it. And every otha sentence outta em parental mouths begin wit “Diba ANDAMING LALAKE don..?” [Aren’t there gonna be a MAJORITY OF GUYS in that place…?] So I lead a very BORING and very ANTI-SOCIAL LIFE because of tis FEAR OF FUCKIN’. And then there’s also tha case of JOB & MONEY which may or may not be connected wit tis NOT GETTING LAID biz. For some time now, I git tha vague impression that THEY DON’T WANT ME TO GIT A JOB. In that way, I’ll be FOREVER INDEBTED TO EM. I think they also hate tha fact that I am a VERY UNPUNISHABLE CHILD. Like when I’m in ma PARENTAL DISOBEDIENCE mode, they cannot punish me by GROUNDING me [how dya ground someone whos alwez at home?] or THROWIN’ INSULTS AT ME [which don’t seem to affect me] or SLAPPING ME [see tha latter], or even LOCKING ME UP IN A VERY DUSTY ROOM wit spiders & rats for tha night like they did some time ago. [They thought I’d BEG FOR THEIR MERCY and BE AT THEIR KNEES but I diden, I juz curl’d up on tha floor &slept like it’s tha most natural thang to do which got em a bit sore I think.] And they alwez complain how USELESS I am but me thinks they secretly like tha fact that I HAVE NO POWER OVER THE COURSE OF EVENTS IN OUR LIFE. Like when I hear em complainin’ to each other how our no-good lowlife boarders DON’T PAY THEIR RENT and how a number of em had even RAN AWAY WIT P5000+ WORTH OF UNPAID RENT and then I offer to TALK TO THEM and nag em & beat tha crap and OUR RIGHTFUL MONEY OUT OF EM and I was DEAD SERIOUS but did they LISTEN TO ME? No, they LET EM RUN AWAY UNPAID AGAIN and had an angry parent told me I HAVE NO RIGHT TO INTERFERE WIT THA SUPERVISION OF THINGS [pamamalakad ng buhay] told in such a fashion that reads like WE CAN’T STAND LISTENING TO YOU and WE CAN’T ENTERTAIN THA POSSIBILITY THAT YOU’RE RIGHT simply because you are JUST A DESCENDANT and I AM THA PARENT therefore I AM ALWAYS RIGHT and YOU ARE ALWAYS WRONG and YOU HAVE NO POWER OVER ANYTHING because you CAN’T POSSIBLY KNOW WHAT YOU’RE SAYING, YOUNG AND DUMB as you are.

“Welcome… The postpaid and the Warpspeed networks are currently experiencing some problems. We’re sorry for this but please try again later.” Try wut? Connecting? Calling? And why are they hidin’ behind an answerin’ device anyway? Can’t handle too many irate customers callin’ their stoopid hotline? Mebbe their answerin’ personnel is defective too. And when I fin’lly reach’d a real person on tha other line? It turn’d out to be a rocket scientist who tried to divert online traffic by instructin’ me to dial an out-of-service number instead. Warpspeed Infocom has got to be tha worst prepaid internet card I had ever wasted ma hard-begg’d money on. I had connected but once only and even that took me eons & a set of unflattering eye bags to attain. Tsk tsk! Bulok talaga! Lugi!

Tha Official Disk Space Deficit Allocator
Yup. That’s ma new job description. I am now sole organizer of tis special project call’d SOC [Save Our Computer] which hereby entails me to devote all ma workin’ resources to tis vital task. It requires me to go through all files in all folders of our computer, check fo’ files that look suspiciously similar and then discard tha smaller file/s & leave tha revised file/s alone. I am also tasked to excruciatingly open all jpeg files in Adobe to edit each one & reduce it to tha low quality of 1 before savin’ em again to replace them old selves. As tha “ODSDA”. I also hafta delete stoopid files that won’t open anyway and games which tha “ODSDA” don’t remember tha brother playin’ anymore. ‘F course tha “ODSDA” takes entire responsibility for her actions and is prepared fo’ any sudden punches that may be thrown her way by tha brother Tha Great Oppressor, and is likewise prepared for Room Disruptions and Collisions of Personal Belongings to the Floor. Bein’ “ODSDA” means I also hafta resist tha urge to delete dumb & pointless lookin’ files which may actually be deem’d priceless & irrevocable to others juz like tha scann’d picture of tha back of some certain person’s mobile I found along wit many other abnormal files. Compensation comes back in tha form of more disk space fo' ma growing number of mp3's and less occurrence of crashdowns & otha pc misfits.

Saturday
Judgin' from tha amount of insults & cuss words thrown at me by paver, I must've hit a sore spot on his grumpy nerves when I gave him & maver a piece of ma mind after they gave me theirs. Why they want me to stay wit em 24/7 is beyond me since they can't even stand me[as maver vocally 'spress'd minutes ago]. Can't even blog in peace witout one of em spyin' on me. She is lookin' over ma shoulder juz as he had been yesterday, tha other day and whenever they feel like I'm up to sumthin'. Tis quote by Atwood fits em to a T:
"Genial, brutal parents, up to their necks in collusion, determined on the rightness of their choices, in everything."
And anotha one:
"The old wish the young well, but they wish them ill also. They would like to eat them up, & absorb their vitality, and remain immortal themselves."
For some reason tis duzen seem to post.. Guess blogger's down again. Damn. Juz like moi.

Hez Juz A Li'l Unwell
Sunday got ma bro behavin' odd. He wuz actually bein' nice. He actually lent me money he cud've spent himself coz I've forgot mine in tha car. And he duzen seem to be embarass'd to be seen wit me. In fact, before we part to look at diff'rent stuff, he pull'd ma arm and took me on a remote-control trip as in we took turns turning off/crankin' up tha volume of every TV we pass by wit tha use of his mobile phone.

me & brover

Wut are ya bein’ so nice about? You are so nice that I can’t say I’m sorry. And I am. In fact I’ve been thinkin’ why I still can’t do it after how many years. And today I fin’lly understand why. I can’t say sorry because when I do, I’ll mean it. I’ve observed that it’s easy to apologize for thangs we ain’t real sorry fo’ and real hard to apologize when we mean it so much guilt is eatin’ away at us every day. And another thang: Sayin’ sorry to ya out loud wud have juz pointed out to us both tha fact that you had overlook’d it. And that wud be juz like throwin’ another stone atcha which is tha last thing I’d wanna do. But now here, I’m gonna say it. I’ve had it hangin’ over ma head every time. If you’re reading tis, you can juz pretend I’m apologizin’ to sum one else if it hurts too much to make ya remember. I’m sorry, I know of it. Peace out.

That was MY post, ya stupid mf! Can't believe juz got ma last post stolen!

I know it's you...

One of tha reasons I had ma room repainted blue was tha belief that it will somehow boost ma energy level an' make me more productive than its old lazy color pink. [blame it on ma Experimental Psych professor.] Bat ganon, di ata umeepekto? I'm still lazy as a cow.
***
Nursery revisited [fave mem'ry of oldest friend]
setting: girls' bathroom, nursery school
gurl1: "Ano kulay panty 'nyo? Akin yellow! ..Kayo?" [proceeds to raise tha skirt of her jumper to show to tha other gurls.]
gurl2 [hikin' her skirt up too]: "Ako, white!"
me [doin' tha same]: "Ako pink!"
oldest pal: "Ako... [hikin' her skirt to show us] ..Ay! Nakalimutan ko pala!
gurl1,gurl2,me: "Ay.. ay.. !" [bursts into laughter]
Until now, I still taunt her about it.. & now i put it here so I can taunt her some more! Nyahaha! [evil laugh] Love you, pare!

I’m not yer average gurl from tha kanto and I ain’t got money nor a job of ma own but ive learn’d to love myself unconditionally because I am a queen. I’m not yer average girl from tha kanto. Ma worth is not determined by tha price of ma clothes. No matter what I’m wearin’ I will always be tha s.v.t.s. -Ripp’d off & slightly altered from India Arie’s Video lyrix
***
Pe-makmak!
San Pablo relatives in tha hauz today. Kehwl tito & tita brought me tha thangs ive left when I stay'd wit em last month. [Gawd, I mis'd ma golden book of birthday meanings!] They also brought us goodies from their 3-day stay in Thai. I got a blue bag wit a beaded elephant design, a box of brownies, and some.. cash. [yea!] They also brought a VHS tape of tha twins' debut & a short footage of Thai which we might have seen had it not jamm'd into our VCD player. [I came out a few seconds late & hadn't had tha chance to tell uncle that tha damn thing's broken before he inserted it.] Tita told us that in Thai, you say "Pem!" to tha vendor when ya think tha price is a bit above & "Pe-makmak!" when tha price is too much. Also found out that Thais aren't too great-lookin'. [Tita: "Mga tao dun? Para lang sina Ma Idyo at Ma Erning!" ] And in ma cuzin Gela's words, "Mukhang mga Pinoy na taga-bukid!" Lolz.

Juz downloaded tis song. Ang ganda.

Another day wasted ponderin' on one's own sanity...

Tha most ‘spensive bum [Saturday]
Bein’ a bum is expensive livin’. And I’m tha most ‘spensive bum. Bums can’t always stay at home. Sometimes they go to malls too [to see if tha world outside had changed or wutever]. And so tis bum troop’d to Galle yesterday to scour some interestin’ finds. And she saw that they were havin’ a 3-day sale. And wit in tha first hour she arrived, she got so interested in lookin’ at a body wash version of her fave soap that she can’t not buy it. Same goes for a Victoria’s Secret body cream of her fave scent. And a blue & red striped adorable bag wit an American flag patch’d on its side. Til Quezon was left lonely in her lavender purse. And she found that she had juz borrow’d her own savings again & promis’d herself she’ll pay when employment arrives juz like she did two weeks ago when she went on another mini shopping spree. So that shez forever indebted to herself. And she knows she shud be off her ass & gettin’ paid right now ‘stead of bein’ a lazy ole fart. She knows she couldn’t “waste another day and lie low any longer” like tha song by Plumb sez. And speakin’ of Plumb, how she wants to watch that concert but cuden since she duzzen have no dough & she guesses she juz hafta watch ‘em come & go juz like Duncan Sheik unless she gathers her wits & come up wit a half-way decent article to contribute which she had been tryin’ to unsuccessfully do for tha past week so that she can have moolah again & she can pay her piggy bank & be able to buy more bags & bath gels.
Sunday:
Today I bought 4 books [on sale] at tha National bookstore.

No matter how much I've told ma'self to face ma fears, still I can't bring ma'self to.. to step on a damn ipis! Tulungan nyo ko! May ipis dito!

Fin'lly gave poor tired kitty a rest. New template courtesy of belated happy boithday boy gabby! Yea!

How I officially got inducted as an alumnus of ma school:
Me [tryin’ to slip into tha library wit ma old ID]: “Hindi naman po ako manghihiram ng libro eh. Gusto ko lang naman tumapat sa aircon kase ang init sa labas. May imi-meet lang po ako sa loob.”
Guard [wit cross’d arms & a cross look on her face]: “Magpa-validate ka muna ng ID mo.”
ALUMNUS – As u don’t pay mooLah anymore U May Not retUrn School
***
Tis soap rocks.

Me tha munstah!
I miss those Chinese pink coinlike candies that has been around since I was a kid. Today in church, chance had me seated next to a li’l boy of four & his mum. Mum was offerin’ haw flakes to her kid & I felt an urge to extend ma palm out & beg for a piece. Sometimes I git tis sudden urges to act against reason & [ma] age. Made a mental note to buy some on ma next trip to tha grocery. As tha lecture droned on, wee boy got a bit restless & whiny so tha mum tried to make him behave. Know how mothers try to turn strangers into ill-temper’d monsters to make their children behave? Well, guess who got appointed meany-mo today? “Ssshhh!!! Behave or she’ll get mad at you!” Mum hiss’d at her son, pointin’ her thumb backwards at me. Tha boy consider’d me but continued to whine & misbehave. I guess big gurls who have secret cravings for li'l boys' candies don’t scare him one bit.

“Bat ala ka pa ring trabaho?”
“Bat ala kang boyfriend?”
“Bat….?”
Finding is lost on me.
***
I’m waiting it all out. Even eternal feelings of bleakness are fleeting. ;-)

Quotes of tha month:
“Ano ba yan, mukha kang comics!” -Paver on ma modernly made-up face before we left tha house to go shoppin’.
“Thank you, that’s all.” -Ma reserved cousin Geli’s curt reply when ask’d to give a speech on her and her twin’s 18th debut party.
“Vote Ping Lacson for president of Iraq.” –09162552*08
“Gudnyt. Pls. tc.” -A text message from a friend who rarely sends sms when he heard about coup rumours.
“Stop eating!” -Ruth’s frantic whisper as I stuff’d ma face full wit ma second helping of chicken ala king while cameras roll in front of us at tha Gardenia press conference.
“Ang puri ba pag nawala na, pwede pang ibalik?” -A classmate as he ponders on life.
“A, malay ko sa inyo! Kayo lang nagkakaintindihan dyan!” -Ma aunt as she listen’d to chinovela actress Lavender talk to sum one ‘bout characters who have lengthy unintelligible Chinese names.
“Sorry, I can’t go online tonight. Dad’s playing war games on our computer.” -Gian when I ask’d him to meet me online.
***
Nakaka-guilty kiligin, baka may girlfriend.
We talk’d ‘bout everythin’ but that. Even made plans to be business partners of some sort some day but we mutually avoided love lives. Sometimes I wish he’d juz go right out & ask ‘bout ma dating status so that I’ll have an excuse to ask him ‘bout his. A friend said it’s entirely ma fault if he's not interested anymore since I diden show any signs that I liked him when he liked me. Not entirely. He is juz as much to blame for fallin’ early fo' me same as I am for fallin’ late.

Today I feel like I’m God’s favorite child. Most of tha time I feel like one of God’s children who got overlook’d and forgotten amidst tha millions whom He felt like blessin’ wit goodluck but not today. Today I am tha favorite. Ma crush hitted on me. LBC gave me 500 bucks for an article I contributed in their magazine and an admirer gave me load fo’ ma mobile. I also got a reply in ma email for an interview in one of tha companies I applied for and today I came home to find out that paver decided to welcome me back from ma weeklong stay in San Pablo by paintin’ ma room electric blue. It did not all happen today but I’m feelin’ tha impact of it all today. I’m postin’ all these so that when I’m feelin’ blue [like tha new color of ma room], I’m gonna hafta remember today.

I was gone for a week bcuz ma twin cuzins had their 18th debut last Sunday on tha same night tha Ja-Boom twins also celebrated their's. T'waz really fun to be on ma toes for a change. Quite a diff'rence from ma daily bum routine. Wit in tha week I've stay'd wit tha twins, they have task'd me to come up wit a program fo' em. I also thought of songs that cud be used as background music for tha whole program. [I came up wit 65 songs] Aside from tis, I help'd em in creatin' bracelets made of beads for their souvenirs and I produced a script for tha twins to read w/c we recorded on tape to be play'd at tha beginning of tha program along wit tha powerpoint presentation of their pictures. I also help'd in arrangin' tha 36 roses in transparent wraps & ribbons and I also co-hosted tha actual event.
Here is tha invitation w/c had a caricature of tha twins like I suggested...

And here is tha souvenir -a mini bayong w/c fits inside tha palm containing a bead bracelet I help'd in makin'...

And here is tha older twin Geli escorted by ma brover through a path of bubbles...

And here are tha twins...

As they pose...

And pose...

And as they are whisk'd away to tha dancefloor...

By their dad...

And here they are wit family...


And here is adorable Phoebe, ma co-emcee's adorable sis...

And tis is Gela, tha louder, more charming twin who resembles Dimples Romana when she smiles...

And tis is Geli, tha more reserved, more serious twin. Some says she looks like that daily morning Mexican soap actress on channel 2...

And here is tha script...
Geli: [to tha tune of Vivaldi Concerto] Ever since I was in Mommy's womb, I was never alone. Feet, nails, eyes -as I slowly developed these, someone else was inside the womb with me slowly developing similar organs. Because of this, I did not fear life. When I came into this world on July 12, 1985, I was confident because I know that someone else would be born with me. Together we would be facing the new complexities of life. That someone is Angela, my younger twin & best friend. When we were three weeks old, Angela got terribly sick. I was really scared because I thought I'd lose her. Good thing she struggled. Thanks for being here with me now, Bebz. Sometimes I still worry about you. Please understand. I just can't stand to lose you or see you gettin' hurt.
Gela: [to tha tune of Saying Goodbye, piano version] As I followed you out of Mommy's womb, I knew that I can always trust and depend on you. I'm sorry if I scared you when I got sick when we were young. I never meant to leave you. I struggled to survive because I knew you'd be lonely without a twin. For 18 years, you have always been there for me. Thanks for looking after me & Rap. Sometimes you worry too much, but that's okay because it's just what makes you such a good ate. I'll always look up to you, ate Lee.

I hate it when maver & paver flip their backs to do sumthin' nice fo' some semi-stranger who wuden do tha same thang for em. Badtrip yon. Ma parents don't trust tha world wit me but they are irritatingly kind to tha world. Go figure.

I’m holdin’ up ma forefinger & thumb an inch apart to ma face. Tis close. I wuz tis close to landin’ a job. Saturday afternoon I got a call for an interview to be broadcaster/scriptwriter for a new 1-hour program on AM radio. Sounds fun. And it’s an opportunity, right? Spesh for fresh grad dumbasses like me. I mean no one hires fresh grads, right? It is a job. It pays. And all I need to do is pass ma college diploma on Monday to git hired. Compared to tha two otha candidates, I think I qualified better fo’ tha job. One had a marketing degree, which tha boss felt doesn’t seem suitable fo’ tha job. Aside from tis, she look’d as if she can’t hand in her diploma on Monday. Tha otha one wuz a MassCom grad from PLM who liv’d in Bulacan. Both did not bring samples of their writing. I am from a reputable school & I had tha right course for tha job. I brought ma certificate of graduation along wit all kinds of clearances [NBI, barangay, school..] that very day. I also brought 3 samples of ma writing witout bein’ told. And I live a jeepney & a tricycle away from tha office. Of course there is also tha li’l matter of tha boss requirin’ 4 traits for his employers. He said that he doesn’t care ‘bout hiring anyone good. He juz wana hire someone who’s 1] flexible 2] who can git along wit his moodiness 3] courageous and 4] willing to travel He said that he cud hire all three of us if we can accept his conditions & if we can pass tha diploma by Monday. He ask’d us if we accept his conditions. Bein’ nearest to him, he ask’d me first. Almost immediately, I answer’d him a firm yes. He repeated tha qualities. [So-so,so-so…, WILLING TO TRAVEL.] I waver’d. and open’d ma big mouth. [“Um, about traveling, I am free to travel as long as not to sumwhere really far like Mindanao..”] I wuz thinkin’ ‘bout maver & paver. No way in hell wud they lemme travel farther than NCR. They won’t even lemme travel alone. I came into that place wit paver. And he wuz waitin’ for 4 straight hours already outside tha office. Tha boss said that tha broadcaster he’ll hire will hafta go to Mindanao if it’s required. He added that he needs someone who’ll escort him anytime he goes out to socialize & treat future clients and that he doesn’t take a “no” when he asks his employee to go wit him. He sens’d that tha parental units are strict and when I admitted it, he said, “Baka hinahanap ka na nila ngayon.” There were, in fact, 2 messages & 3 miss’d calls from paver in ma phone that sec. He spent tha rest of tha interview ignorin’ me & talkin’ to tha 2 otha applicants who were busy takin’ note of his instructions for employment. Before we go, he took pity on me and said that since I heard his instructions I could still talk to tha ‘rents then hand in tha requirements on Monday. Tha rents agreed to forbid me from takin’ tha job. I am still their doll. They own me. Jai guru deva om. Nuthin’s gonna change ma world. [Tis is all s’posed to make y’all feel betr fo’ bein’ unown’d..]

Some people refuse to ride tha bus. I, on tha otha hand, luv to ride tha bus more than any other vehicle. It reminds me of past field trips wit ma ‘mates as a child. Of Planetarium and tour guides and Chiz Curls and Hi-C’s and good-natured classmates who share their baons wit me. Last night as we were goin’ home in a G-Liner amidst torrential rain, it cross’d ma mind that tha bus could slip and overturn and kill us all. Some months ago, a friend met an accident on his way home ridin’ a bus. They hafta chop off his long hair cuz of tha blood clot in his head, and hafta attend our graduation in a wheelchair. He can walk now although too much walkin’ can still hurt his feet. And still I luv tha bus. Will sumthin’ ever disillusion me from ridin’ tha bus?
***
Since we were out yesterday, some of our boarders were probably devastated that they diden git to watch their fave TV series. I can almost imagine em furiously banging on our door ‘round 5:30 pm.. [”Ate Yolie, huwag po kayong madamot! Panood kami kay Dao Ming Si…!!!”] Possibly tha same time I wuz weighin’ out tha option of buyin’ a bag, a blouse, a bracelet, & a pair of jeans while listenin’ to tha tiangge vendors patronize their previous foreign customers. [I guess pokin’ fun at are wut foreigners are for.] Anyway, I kinda don’t blame tha boarders fo’ bein’ devastated as they were. I mean, I do git lessons from that Chinese TV series. And these are…
A] More often than not, we start a relationship wit someone whom we don’t really love. [e.g.: Shancai]
B] Broken-hearted people are blind to brighter better loves. [e.g.: Lei to Shancai and Shancai to Lei later on when Dao doesn’t want anything to do wit her no more.]
…to name juz two.
***
Ans tha quote of tha week comes from he who appreciates tha beauty of God's creations. He said: "A lit cigarette is a good effort. But effort beats its own."

1234 Sesame st.
Bakanteng Lote
Phils.

zzz@inspiredworkers.com
June 22, 2003

Future Employer
Private Publications
1018th f Team Bldg.
Asenso st. corner Tangingyaman ave.
Makati

Dear Sir or Madam:

Please employ me. Ma career path has alwez been to work wit you. Even now, I can see ma end in yer respective company. I totally believe that The Daily Tirades is better but I have better chances of hiring here. yer company is numero uno. I have alwez been responsible & career-oriented. Even at tha young age of 2, ma folks had alwez remark’d on how clean ma diaper’d be at tha end of tha day. You can try to put me in tha editorial jobs, or writing jobs, or tha filing jobs, or pickin’-up-paperclip-jobs, or you can put me in tha magazine cover. Eventually, y’all shall find tha right job for me. I mean, I must be good fo’ sumthin’, right? Of course, I prefer bein’ paid, if you will, sir/madam. But I also accept freebies accumulated from press events. Compared to otha aspiring bums, I cud say that ma need fo’ tis job is really strong. I am not supporting any children –present or upcoming- yet but ma material demands are juz as strong as any child’s. mebbe becuz I am still a child ma’self. And, one more thang: I have no Life right now. So I will show up for ma interview.
P.S.:
If you could not employ me, can you please write a nice recommendation for me to Tha Daily Tirades?


Slave-ishly Yours,
S.V.T.S.

Butch-er’d in Quiapo
It happen’d in National bookstore, on tha third floor where reviewers for all sorts of exams could be found. When I approach’d tha area, only one otha gurl can be seen browsin’ through tha civil service exam reviewers. She wuz a bit taller and had long slightly curly hair which she wore loose around her shoulders. I wuz payin’ no heed to her til she struck up conversation wit me. She ask’d if I wuz gonna take tha exam too. She also ask’d where I went to school & wut I had taken up. She had taken up Mass Communications in C.E.U. Tha last queschn she ask’d wuz whether I wuz thinkin’ of buyin’ any of tha civil exam reviewers on tha rack. I wuz about to answer when sumthin’ freaky happen’d. For wut felt like three minutes, she came close and press’d tha front side of her body against ma left side while whisperin’ sumthin in ma ear. For a stranger, it really felt freaky, uncall’d for & intimate. I can’t see why she hafta come close when she cuda whisper’d in ma ear witout touchin’ me. And wut she said wuzn’t even worth whisperin’ about. I don’t see any conspiracy in her suggeschn that we buy diff’rent reviewers then photocopy tha other one’s later on. I made ma escape by sayin’ that I hafta go & look for sumthin else in tha store. Afterwards, it made me think: Do I look like a butch? Mukha ba akong tibo? Assessing ma appearance that day, I had on an olive green military polo blouse, ordinary jeans and high loafers, and I have really short hair and no make-up. That makes me look like a butch? I look’d pretty normal to me. She really felt like a dyke to me but who knows? Mebbe shez juz an annoying space-invader. Wacha think, p.?

Fin’lly learn’d how to download mp3’s!
And tha first two songs downloaded were…

***
Rememberin’ Ashley
In tha past, gurlfriends had alwez come to me when they wanna know if their boyfriends are true-blue. They wanted me to hit on their boyfriends to test em. I’d text em or call em on tha phone tryin’ to git em to hit back on me & make em commit adultery to ma pal, their gurlfriends. Tha goal, of course, wuz to try to git em to like me, or hear em deny tha existence of their girlfriends, or git em to do any otha slight acts that veer towards infidelity. In all those occasions, I’ve alwez introduced ma’self as Ashley. I alwez used Ashley when I don’t wanna reveal ma real name. As a young gurl, Ashley used to be ma fave name. I used to wish I wuz named Ashley. As I grew a bit, I consoled ma’self for not bein’ call’d Ashley by promisin’ ma’self to name ma first daughter Ashley. I used to luv comin’ up wit names for future daughters but Ashley had alwez been ma top pick. However, as some thangs change, I’ve found that I don’t have tha same fondness for tha name Ashley as before & I can’t see ma’self wit a daughter named Ashley in tha future anymore. Now, I like Niggella and Dior Mitzi. I’m still stump’d on boys’ names.

You look like you just lost your best friend. I did.
***
Bum thought No. 96: Bein’ a bum is tryin’ to remember whose day off it is so that ye may take a break from overfeedin’ yo’self & tha poor bloaten’d up pet fishes, and inflict yo’self instead upon that poor fella.
***
I hate shoppin’ wit any’un. If I have ma way, I’d shop alone. But I don’t so it’s either I alwez hafta wait fo’ ma maver to catch up wit me while she takes small, leisurely steps, or I’ll hafta silently suffer in agony while she looks at every pieca silverware or otha thangs she shops for w/c are of no interest to me, or she’ll hafta endure while I linger on books or gurly thangs like bags & accessories w/c are of no importance to her. But shez nuthin’ compared to paver. Paver is tha worst. He’ll alwez go “You should be grateful I even let you tag along!” And if I tell him I need new clothes to wear to some function? His forehead wud crinkle and his brows wud come together and he’d look like Tha World’s Grumpiest Hag before tellin’ me that I have exactly 30 minutes or “isang ikot lang” to find new clothes. And if I stop to look at accessories, he’ll cluck his tongue once real loud then hurry off in big, fast strides in a mock method of leavin’ me –but of course, he won’t. He never leaves me. So shopping is really impossible wit him. At least, maver is more agreeable and easier to escape/lose. And she only gits praning when I stray for an hour from her line of vision. But of course, I’d still rather shop alone. Lotsa times I’ve come home wit ugly purchases due to their rushing. And I also don’t wanna burden em anymore by draggin’ em to tha mall when they’d rather be home doin sumthin’ else. Plus I hate it when maver breaks her promises to go shoppin’ wit me. And so tha last two days wuz spent in an attempt to escape tha impossible duo & be able to shop alone.
Attempt 1:
Saturday -I got set to go in ma three-fourths army fatigue blouse & ma high, made for baha rainy-day-shoes. I reach’d our gate when I remember’d that I have vague knowledge of gettin’ where I wanna go, so I ask’d friends who had been to ma house how I could git to Quiapo from ma place. Then I thought of goin’ back upstairs to wait out their reply, but soon as I step’d in tha house, maver met me & grabb’d ma bag & won’t let go. T’wuz a new bag & she look’d set on destroyin it so I let her have it. I diden expect her to run to her room wit it, lock her door, and sleep wit it. She did. Later on, she promis’d we’ll go tomorrow.
Attempt 2:
Sunday -I diden actually expect her to stick to her promise. I wuz right. Right after lunch, she went to sleep again. Since I diden actually git to go out wit yesterday’s clothes, I decided to wear tha same thang. Then I call’d a pal for directions. Anong sasakyan papuntang Quiapo mula samin? As I don’t want tha folks to call every’un in ma phonebook when they wake up, I woke maver up before goin’ to tell her where I’m goin’. At tha gate, it occurr’d to me that I forgot to bring an umbrella & I hate gettin’ wet. Shud have left ma bag right there at tha gate, right? I did not. She got hold of ma bag. Again.
Today, I woke up early, menstrual and wit a list of reasons for maver on why they shud be permittin’ me out on ma own at 21. I know I cud run off wit any man anytime I want. I’m long past tha minor age. Ain’t she glad I’m seekin’ their permission? As usual, words fell on deaf ears. An hour or so later, she motion’d me to come in her room. She gave me bribe. It wuz a thousand bucks. Same amount of money I lost 3 weeks ago. As tight as money might come to me. it diden make me feel any betr. On tha contrary, it made me feel sadder. Menstrual, best friend-less, untrusted, but 1000 bucks richer. Me.

Gez who's got a crush on a certain chinovela character?




Ang kyuuuuuut..!!!

Why do I git tha feeling that whereas maver has been supportive & insistent that I git a job [Her arm automatically extends a classified to me every time I turn to her & keeps reminding me ‘bout her promise to take me on a shopping spree soon as I land a job.], paver seem to object to it?
Look at yesterday’s conversation:
paver: “Di ba meron namang nagtatrabaho lang sa bahay? Yung kumikita ng malaki sa internet? Bat di ka don pumasok?” Balita ko…”
me [cutting him off]: “Ayoko, ayoko, ayokoooooo…!!!!!”
paver: “Tingnan mo ‘to, walang kumbenyo! Tapos kapag nakarinig naman sa kaklase ng ganon, chaka tutulad.”
me: “Ayoko nga eh! Ayoko sa bahay, ayoko sa bahay, ayoko sa bahay!!!”
paver: “Bahala ka..”
Actually, he also wants me to work. In fact I have two options. I can:
Option 1: work at home.
Option 2: work somewhere in tha neighborhood.
***
Tha Unbelievable Hog
ABS-CBN is such an unbelievable hog. Sumtyms I juz wanna bite those peepz responsible fo’ comin up wit diff’rent ploys to make us sit thru out their commercial ads. Here are some of their low tactics:
A] In Ukay-Ukay, they give out tha lucky number then make tha callers wait thru several ads & portions before fin’lly askin’ tha viewers to call in wit tha right number –makin’ tha callers suffer thrice thru a] havin’ to wait and watch b] tryin’ to git thru tha busy hotline c] losin’ after all tha sufferings & pain.
B] Regardless of tha program, they trick ya into thinking that there’s still more to watch [when in fact tha program already ended] by not sayin’ goodbye. I have watch’d numerous Charmed [at studio23] episodes before wherein they make ya wait thru long commercials only to come back wit tha rolling of tha credits. Then, today at Morning Girls, as Kris wuz promisin’ to be back after tha ads, Korina, probably piss’d that Kris alwez gits to say tha last word in, interrupted and said that she is, in fact, sure tha they won’t be coming back. After which a mini argument ensued between them.
C] They trick Meteor Garden [there, I’ve said it. wonder how much traffic it’ll generate fo’ tis site.] fans. In TV Patrol, they come up wit Meteor Garden daily trivia and tell tha viewers that tha Meteor Garden trivia will come right after tha 1st commercial break, then break that vow and then promise tha same thang to tha viewers again before tha 2nd, 3rd, and 4th commercial breaks roll. Till fin’lly, ya realize that tha whole time; they were in fact planning to show it AT THA END OF THE SHOW.

Beware of tha identity taker a.k.a tha garbage man. Buy a paper shredder.
Some people just throw their trash away witout second thoughts. Y’all shud know bet’r. Old test papers, documents, claim’d receipts, & anythin’ else that has yer name, address, phone number, or any otha personal info shud be carefully ripp’d across into teeny tiny bits before disposal. Or I suggest ya purchase an effective paper shredder. Tha inventors of tha paper shredder, my kumares & kumpares, are not witout purpose. Ya never know today might juz be tha day when tha garbage collector will break into his routine, decide to take yer identity and take over yer life.
***
Eek! Git that terrible animal away from me!
I am pro-‘roach killing. All ma life I have plotted cockroach genocide, urging housemates to be murderers and stomping on a few microscopic crawlers ma’self. Ma deep loathing springs from a deep fear for em so that I have develop’d a heighten’d sense for their presence. I cud be snorin’ thru tha night & still be able to wake up, turn on tha lights, and find a wretched ipis at some far end of tha room. I can even hear it walkin’ around. Tha roach knows I can only step on tha little ones. It wud display itself insolently to me, scamperin to and fro several times before maneuverin’ wisely under a cabinet once ma maver, tha real threat to its existence, is fetch’d from anotha room. Last night, there wuz lots of em around, even 3 in a room at a time. They were appearin’ everwhere so I decided to take precautionary measures. First thang I did wuz to git a glass of scalding water for cockroach scalding before entering tha cockroach realm/our kitchen. I wuz just smiling upon ma own brilliantness when I came face to face wit a big roach, causin’ me to jerk away & hastily flick ma wrist over and scald ma mum -who wuz sleepin’ on tha couch near tha kitchen. Good thang I did not spill tha whole content of tha glass on her. And I only got her leg.
Ma other cockroach precautionary measures for tha rest of tha night include:
1] Hunting for holes in house corners [I found only one hole] and wedging it wit newspaper chunks to prevent any cockroach emergence.
2] Pouring scalding water over bathroom & toilet drains for tha same reason.
3] Scaling tha heights of ma room’s ceiling-high windows to wedge newspaper chunks over tha holes to prevent a cockroach fly-in.
4] Puttin’ packaging tape at tha base of ma room’s door and cramming rags under any space still left so that no ‘roach cud squeeze under ma door and poke its ugly head at me.

How come I never git thru tha damn Ukay-Ukay hotline?
***
Wut’z worse than a night spent standin’ in tha middle of Cubao tryin to hail cabs that are in as much hurry to go home as you are? Answer: Yer mum beside you havin tha worst LSS case of tha “Spaghetti Pababa” song.

Bold or Innocent?
Wut is so horrendous about gettin’ pregnant witout a husband again? Tha revelation of a person’s boldness to have sex or tha astonishment at that person’s innocence for havin’ unprotected sex?