Bad blood in tha jeepneys
Resentment run high among passengers lately who git less change than wut they expected & who are very averse on dishing out an extra buck fo’ tha driver who claims their bayad is kulang. [Those who were charg’d more fo’ today’s fare than yesterday’s harbor ill feelings towards tha manong who takes away tha pre-fated peso that would have added to ease some other expense while those who were charg’d less fo’ today than yesterday harbor ill feelings towards yesterday’s manong.] I was one of these forehead knittin’ passengers yeterday when as I handed tha exact amount I was ask’d for tha previous day on a jeep goin tha same route, tha driver ask’d for more. [piso pa] Which I dish’d. And he drive’d. But @ an exaggerated leisurely pace. And witout failin to stop @ each human being we encounter on tha 45-minute drive fo’ him to invite to ride his jeep. So that even if I woke up moderately early fo’ work, his pace was makin’ me moderately piss’d & late. So that a cop busted him fo’ stopping in tha middl of tha highway for a passenger [who got off soon as tha cop approach’d], causin more delays. Then juz as I had predicted, far into tha ride soon as tha other remaining passenger left, manong ask’d me where I plan to git off [“Dun pa po!”], prolly thinkin’ he could talk me into getting off right that instance. I diden. I rode for every cent & extra buck he ask’d, hell if he’ll make me walk miles & be later than I already was!
***
Badder blood in the jeepneys
Today, [tha post before tha asterisks happen’d yesterday] I unintentionally caus’d a rift between a co-passenger & tha driver when, upon noting that tha elderly alé @ ma right handed over suspiciously fewer coins fo’ someone who’s headed @ tha same stop, I ask’d tha alé how much she gave [P6]. I then ask’d tha manong fo’ ma 50cent change since he charg’d me P6.50 earlier. Then ruckus comenc’d…

Manong [still quite meek]: “Hindi, sikspibti talaga ang pamasahe, pinatawad co lang nga kanina nung siks lang ang inabot.
Alé [flaring up]: “Anong sikspibti? Araw-araw akong sumasakay, siks lang binabayad ko eh!”
Manong: “Kahit tingnan nyo pa po sa papel, sikspibti na pag 4 kilometers! Pinatawad ko na nga lang kayo kaya lang may nagreklamo”
Alé: “Eh first 4 kilometers pa lang, dapat nga paybpibti lang ang bayad eh! O, eto!” [dishing out 2 twenty-fives angrily]
Manong[at tha same time handing over 50 cents]: “Hindi nga pinatawad na nga lang kayo eh! Pakibigay nga sa nagreklamo!” [Since both tempers are flaring, I did not dare to git ma 50 cents back & juz let tha alé take it.]

There was peace fo’ 10 minutes.

Then:
Manong [in a surprisingly louder, fed-up voice while getting out a piece of paper tuck’d among his belongings]: “O, ETO! BASAHIN NYO! PARA MALAMAN NYONG MALI KAYO! WALA NAMANG BAYAD NA SIKS DYAN! PAYBPIBTI, SIKSPIBTI, SEBENPIBTI… GANUN LANG!”
Alé [not even bothering to look @ tha paper so I hafta pass it to tha manong again]: “HINDI NAMAN ORIGINAL YAN EH! NAKIKINIG KAMI NG RADYO, NANONOOD NG TV ARAW-ARAW, ALAM NAMIN KUNG MAGKANO ANG IBABAYAD!”
Manong: “BAKIT, PAG NAG-PA-PIKSYUR BA KAYO, IBIG NYO BANG SABIHIN HINDI NA KAYO YON? KOPYA NGA LANG YAN PERO TAMA YAN!”
Alé: “EH MALAY BA NAMIN KUNG TOTOO TALAGA YAN, SA IBANG DYIP, NAKAPASKIL SA HARAPAN! KAHIT NA BIGYAN PA KITA NG SANDAAN, WAG KA LANG MANLOKO!
Manong: “BAKIT NGA PAG SA LITRATO, KAYO RIN NAMAN YUN AH! [then as an afterthought] YUNG NAKAPASKIL KONG KOPYA, BINAKLAS NG MGA BATA, EH ANO PA BANG MAGAGAWA KO DUN?
Alé: “BASTA KAHIT SANDAAN PA ANG IBIGAY KO SAYO, WAG KA LANG MANLOLOKO NG TAO!!!

Whatever. They were still at it when I got off. [tha alé diden git off @ ma stop afterall, therefore I diden save tha alé tha effort of havin’ to ask his archenemy to let her git off] Wud manong have bursted a vein had I insisted in gettin’ ma 50cents back? ;-)

Grown-ups are stringy, fire-breathin, serious, prim & proper, gossipy, and prone to share tha most embarrassing stories ‘bout their kids. Yesterday, at ma highschool pal Estabita’s [whose actual name is Elaine Estabillo but whom I call Estabita fo’ fun] gathering fo’ her kid’s 3rd birthday, I realized that I would be perceiv’d as tha friend of some person’s mother. And in that light, I am partly responsible fo’ moulding a kid’s stereo-typing abilities on wut grown-ups are [fire-breathin, serious, prim & proper, etc.] based on how I act that night. And me & Lorrie, tha grown-ups who stayd fo’ tha longest time weren’t bein very “grown-up” at all.

In fact, I can already imagine the queschns in Azalea Maiden Lei’s prettly li’l shaolin head w/c shell prolly spring on ma gewd pal, Estabita:

Ma, do grown-ups really…
squeal at the slightest provocation?
shove each other so hard, one almost connected wit tha floor?
play “Ito ang beat”, Chicky Chicky Bab, & Crossmeloshake?
find fun in swatting, slapping and pinching each other?
argue over larger portions of cake?
love plucking sugar roses from birthday cakes?
play with balloons and ask to take one home wit em?

We stopp’d horsing around long enuf to stare at mother & child as Maiden stopp’d working on her coloring book to run in tha arms of her maver and kiss her 6-month preggy mum.
Wistful ME: “Awww…”
Equally Wistful Lorrie: “Tara, gawa na rin tayo anak!”

Anotha fave moment:
Maiden sayin “ice cream..!” in a sing-songy way while happily coloring beyond tha lines of an orange ice cream in her coloring book usin’ tha new Powerpuff crayons her beautiful Tita 5h1n3 gave her.

In one of ma "pagpapanggap" dayz @ tha O., came across tis one by Adrienne Rich while pretendin to be busy while browsin each file in ma office pc...

From An Atlas Of The Difficult World

I know you are reading this poem
late, before leaving your office
of the one intense yellow lamp-spot and the darkening window
in the lassitude of a building faded to quiet
long after rush-hour. I know you are reading this poem
standing up in a bookstore far from the ocean
on a grey day of early spring, faint flakes driven
across the plains' enormous spaces around you.
I know you are reading this poem
in a room where too much has happened for you to bear
where the bedclothes lie in stagnant coils on the bed
and the open valise speaks of flight
but you cannot leave yet. I know you are reading this poem
as the underground train loses momentum and before runningup the stairs
toward a new kind of love
your life has never allowed.
I know you are reading this poem by the light
of the television screen where soundless images jerk and slide
while you wait for the newscast from the intifada.
I know you are reading this poem in a waiting-room
of eyes met and unmeeting, of identity with strangers.
I know you are reading this poem by fluorescent light
in the boredom and fatigue of the young who are counted out,
count themselves out, at too early an age. I know
you are reading this poem through your failing sight, the thick
lens enlarging these letters beyond all meaning yet you read on
because even the alphabet is precious.
I know you are reading this poem as you pace beside the stove
warming milk, a crying child on your shoulder, a book in your hand
because life is short and you too are thirsty.
I know you are reading this poem which is not in your language
guessing at some words while others keep you reading
and I want to know which words they are.
I know you are reading this poem listening for something, tornbetween bitterness and hope
turning back once again to the task you cannot refuse.
I know you are reading this poem because there is nothing else left to read
there where you have landed, stripped as you are.

smirk daw o!!!


You're the smirk,a frown-smile hybrid that's a
little bit cocky and usually associated with
evil or arrogant,but attractive people.You
probably just don't give a damn,but it's
everyone else's fault if you don't because
you're too awesome to have any real faults.


What Kind of Smile are You?
brought to you by Quizilla

There's always so much month left at the end of the money.

Ma digital school ID still works.

Yesterday, I stray’d from tha right streets, soakd, nearly got hit by a car, & got hit on by Burger King personnel in ma need to see ma college alma mater again whom I dearly miss’d. Met wit Felice ‘Rosebud Ong’ Tejuco a.k.a. Bogart fo’ coffee & pasta @ our fave P. Noval café. We both had grand plans of movie-ing and diploma, annual& alumni card inquirin’ but settled in juz gettin our caffeine fix ‘sted since that alone took alota cloth-drenchin’ & murky floodwater soilin on our toes. As if ma alma mater really has to display its famous baha component on tha day I came there, of all days. Office was also clos’d fo’ tha day but incessant need to pee made us run to tha Main Bldg & when I tried swipin ma ID on tha computer @ tha building’s entrance, ‘Kwang!’ [tha sound it emits], it still works! Ma face appeard on tha screen [Manong sed how come I was pretty in tha ID] along wit ma course ‘sted of tha empty space I was expectin it’ll show. To make up fo’ getting soak’d so much & yet not bein able to achieve much that day, I bought Mikirons @ tha Baker’s Fair branch I discover’d where I got off @ Quiapo. Mikiron’s ma latest fave tsitsiria which tastes juz like Krunchies, which I used to buy @ a food shop named Smiley’s @ ma highschool alma mater. And speakin of nostalgic fewd of childhood, I wud really love tha person who cud provide me wit those milk candies call’d ‘Egg tablets’ or sumthin enclosed in mini white plastic bags that are sold at 1.50 each when I was in elementary. Been searchin fo’ em but no luck. And I’d also love those colorful dots of candies in a long thin transparent container wit a wheel @ tha end. And Tiptops that are local peanut M&M’s that come wit fake gold rings. And tha round candy wit a hole @ tha center where you can whistle -white on one side, peach-color’d @ tha otha. But I don’t like Fres, tha li’l green round candies. Among tha tsitsirias I miss those wit plastic freebies &which don’t feel like it has added any weight to tha tummy wen ya eat em: Chickadees, Chizels, etc.

As havin ma hair hack’d off in our neighborhood fo’ 60 bucks a month ago resulted in flyaways every morn fo’ me [& I NEVER have flyaways] due to irregularity of lengths [back’s a bit long & left sida hair’s shorter than tha right], I had ma hair hack’d off again @ Fix salon tis time, as recommended by Angel & tha boy Toy. [it took me a month to realize sumthin’s wrong wit ma hair] Right away, I notic’d tha salon’s differences from David’s, ma former suki before ma fave hairdresser got too ‘spensive fo’ me. First off is tha hairdresser’s fee. Where David’s charge a higher fee fo’ senior stylists, Fix charge tha same fee fo’ all seven of their hairstylists wit all of em carryin’ tha same “senior stylist” title. Second is tha shampoo & blow-dry personnel. At David’s, ladies are assign’d to man tha task of shampooin’ & blowdryin’. At Fix, a guy shampooed & blowdried ma hair which was fine wit me ‘cept he kept takin hold of ma ears as if makin sho’ one ain’t comin off durin tha shampoo. I also notic’d that unlike @ David’s where tha sink is connected to tha wall, tha sinks @ Fix are rightly arrang’d so it ain’t leanin on walls. Tis is much better since tha shampooer can go behind tha sink to do tha customer’s hair & not have any part of his body obstruct/invade tha shampoee’s personal space whereas tha shampooers @ David’s have no choice but be right next to ya facin ya wit their armpits directly on top of yer face so they can reach yer head & shampoo you right. [makin me think that they hafta do some b.o. screening before they hire tha shampooers]
***
And speakin of b.o., I juz found out that bein non-judgmental has it faults. Goin home that day, I boarded a bus and as I wanna seat near tha front, I plopp’d down @ tha first semi-empty seat I could see which was in a three-seater next to a bald but otherwise hairy man in yellow. Tha man, who was ‘bout in his forties has a sharp look ‘bout him often seen in men merchandisin’ DVD’s which made me think he’s from Mindanao. [sowee fo’ tha political incorrectness!] I diden mind tho’ even if I was also thinkin how come no one else who boarded ahead thought of sittin next to him. A few moments later I found out. Tha man was fail’d by his deodorant. By then, an ale had seated next to me hence makin me inch closer to ‘manong DVD’. Therefore, I had to think ways in which ‘manong DVD’ won’t be able to blast away ma sinuses so much. When tha realization first hit ma nose, tha first thang I did was to lift ma left shoulder slightly so twasn’t next to M.D.’s right one anymore. [shud tha smell stick to me, wut then?] Then through various head tiltings, I tried findin’ tha right angle where fresh air may pass ma nasal passage. There was a time I found it [bing-o!] and I was quite honestly surprised to find it so that I look’d left @ M.D., sniff’d hesitantly, found tha air to still be untainted, then look’d doubtfully @ tha misis on ma right. Could it be tha ale was really tha nasal passage-offender? Tha smell return’d not long after, tho’ & after many subtle left & right head swings, I re-affirm’d that ma nose was right tha first time. Twas indeed manong DVD on ma left. And then I wonder’d if I cud take out ma hanky & cover ma nose witout offendin him but he duzen look too tolerant wit such actions so I refrain’d. Wut I did was content ma’self wit keepin’ ma left arm forward & lean’d more to tha right towards tha ale & juz pray’d manong’d git off soon. Wen he diden, I tried lookin’ round fo’ empty seats to transfer to but tha bus got fuller by tha mo’. Finally, he unloaded @ Centerpoint, which was two stops away from where am gettin off.
***

Ma bro & I haven’t fought fo’ ages. It used to be not a day wud pass when we’d grab @ tha chance to pummel each otha & wreck each otha’s stuff. Bein tha small waif I am to his 5’11 frame & not thinking of backing away as an option, I’d usually end up as tha more bruis’d sibling. Oddly enuf, I’ll also end up calmer & less piss’d than tha irritable kuya. Since those days are gone, I thought I cud manage a day wit him & tag’d along Saturday wen he was goin’ out. On our trip to Quiapo, both of us were normal & let each otha buy & see wut tha other wanted. He bought pirated CDs, identity bracelets fo’ him & his gurl, silver watches for his gurl & ma mum [he ask’d me if I wanted one too as an afterthought but I refused] and I bought a yellow Jelly Kelly watch, a silver & gold bangle & zipper earrings. Then we were off to Mega Mall. We were supos’d to go home early that day since Paver wanted us to buy pansit & came home before birthday gurl Maver leaves fo’ church but since it took 40 years fo tha letters of tha names in bro’s bracelets to be completed, we were runnin late. So wen we arriv’d, bro juz ask’d to meet me @ tha store I was ‘bout to buy stuff in while he went his own way to buy tha food as well. Well, I headed straight fo’ tha store we agreed to meet in & thirty minutes into tha store, he was already bombardin’ me wit psycho calls & txt messages on ma phone. “Asan ka na? Nakabili na ko ng pagkain”, was tha first message. But before I was even thru reading it, he was already callin me on ma phone which seem’d to be havin tha same defect ma phone had weeks before coz he can’t seem to hear me tho’ I was practically shoutin ma exact location @ him. Hence, another message: “Putsa! Tatanga-tanga ka naman! Uuwi na nga eh! Ano ba?” And then a series of calls punctuated by growls from ma psychotic bro @ tha otha end of tha line ensued [in w/c he still can’t hear me & hes thinking am not speakin on purpose] Judgin from tha elevatin’ quality of urgency & lividness in ma bro’s voice, it diden surprise me wen havin located me finally, he clamp’d an iron hand on ma fist & madly dragg’d me outa tha line towards tha exit so that he caus’d ma shades & ma new Jelly Kelly watch to toss away [taking minutes to find] & elicited gawks from strangers. And so I diden git to buy anythang @ Mega Mall becuz of lack of time & yet wen we passd tha foodcourt on our way out, bro –sorta like tryin to make it up to me- suddenly ask’d me if I wanted anythang to eat on tha way home. [I juz frown’d & said “Hindi na!” all angry-lookin’ & wounded pride] But since he insisted [“Dali na nga!”] & I was honestly famished, I headed @ tha first store @ tha bukana [which was a Nestle ice cream stall] & told tha guy behind tha counter I wanted a parfait. [I was still kinda mad so I chose an expensive dessert] But findin’ out tha price on tha list, bro told me he won’t be payin & I shud pay it ma’self since I order’d it. We ended up not buyin anythang & juz headed home but I felt I miss’d on compensation I realized I shud rightfully have fo’ gettin’ embarrass’d in fronta peepz so I kept ma eyes open fo’ food chains on tha way & finally pointed out A&W and declared “I’ll have coney fries instead” to ma tyrannical bro. He relented & bought a root beer float too. Both tha drink & fries were gone even before we hail’d an FX.

Funny how tha act of sumone takin out his mobile in tha jeep alwez influence me to do tha same, as if tha fact that he/she has a phone is enuf assurance that he/she won't try to take ma phone.

Most people survive by tha amounts of selfishness they have & how much of it they make others feel. People, more than they know it, are usually owned by otha peepz. Sumtyms ya juz back off automatically from a potential friendship becuz you can see that invisible label of ownership tha peepz who own’d em plac’d on em & ya back off fo’ tha similar reason that ya wana completely own em & not juz some part w/c that person’s owner fail’d to fill. Tis same selfishness is also wut keeps us from denyin’ that a part of us is still own’d by sum1 else so that other peepz will have no qualms ‘bout givin’ themselves to us.

Wut went right & wrong @ ma overnight outing to Bataan:

-: Companions diden show up on time so p.i.c. & I hafta go & take tha 6:30 ferry ride by our whole lonesome.
+: Gewd thang we diden git lost thanks to tha locals who gave us tha right directions & thanks to p.i.c.’s reliable memory wc absorb’d all directions like a sponge.
-: We got charg’d 50 bucks tho’ fo’ our short tricycle ride in exchange fo’ tha directions given.
-: I forgot to bring shades & slippers.
+: I got a kehwl pair o’ white shades & purple slippers fo’ P60 & P20 respectively @ tha Balanga market.
-: Tha inn we stay’d in wc was divided into 4 small units, painted powder blue, &had steel bars for gates look’d like vaults spesh wit names on its front. Ours was “JM”.
+: Since we got there first, p.i.c. & I got first dibs on tha four beds to choose from. [We chose tha two nearest to tha electric fan]
-: We found out that our sink faucet was missin’ its handle & tha loo missin its lock.
+: T’was all s’pos’d to be cheap @ 750 fo’ all 6 of us.
-: Wen we were @ tha beach, a gewd-lookin’ boater Nat call’d tha “bangkerong kolboy” conn’d us into ridin his boat wit promises of takin us to tha cave, corals & otha scenic spots fo’ only 200 for tha two of us & 300 wen fo’ two more friends who join’d us later. But wen we reach’s tha middle of tha sea wit tha motor creatin’ much noise so t’was hard fo’ us to make conversation & everythang, he took advantage by askin if t’was a’ite to shell out a hundred more so he can take us to tha scenic spots. Wut hpen’d was we got off his boat witout seein’ anything & paid him 200.
+: A local who resembled Rene Requiestas eagerly took me & p.i.c. to all tha photo-op worthy spots in tha resort. He even got tha keys to tha treehouse & otha places w/c weren’t open to tha public yet juz so we cud take pictures. And he diden even charge a thang –juz smiled at us excitedly as he beckon’d us to follow him to more hidden spots of interest.
-: Ma ancient swimsuit wc I thought still fit since I rarely used it, felt like t’was stranglin me wen I wore it more so wen I juz ate a full meal & fo’ a while, I thought itll give up all together in strugglin’ to keep me in & burst @ tha seams.
+: Had fun competin wit Nat & Zha fo’ tha “most wrinkled hands” category, searchin’ fo’ “toasted” kids, watchin p.i.c. do forward rolls again & again in tha water, discussin’ politics, movies & thangs wit tha three of em, & listenin’ to Ana’s quips bout her pregnancy.
-: By Sunday noon, ma head was suddenly spinnin’ & tummy & limbs hurt & suddenly I was hurlin all over & carryin’ on like a sick child & actin’ embarrassingly & more pregnant than our 6-month old pregnant companion who wasn’t makin any fuss at all & diden hafta be tended to unlike brilliant moi.
+: Gewd thang p.i.c. carried ma bag & gave me headache & excretory pills & bought me food & ticket wen I cant walk & was bein generally naiz to me tho’ I diden allow her to sleep on our way to tha place by talkin’ her ear off.

Spiders plan room dominion
There is a profusion of weird bumps on ma head… it hurts & feels like little zits but I’ve no idea where it really came from. I have a theory, though. Theory is that they are spider bites. There are a lot of em lately in ma bed –those spiders wit wispy legs. And me as a live & let live creature compassionate to all living things [‘cept to ‘roaches] simply cant bring ma’self to squash tha poor thangs & deprive em of life they have tha right to live. Wut I do wen they pass me by while im in bed is catch em in ma hand then open it & let em go on ma bedroom floor. Long as they’re not on tha bed wit me, I don’t mind em one bit. Besides they prevent mosquito bites by eatin mosquitoes. Only now I am infested wit spider bites. So now there’s prolly an army of em in ma bedroom.

Suddenly, I had a strange suspicion that ma 6210 mobile can’t transmit sounds to tha person @ tha other end of tha line, & so to know whether twas ma phone or tha person @ tha other end of tha line who’s really defective, I got ma bro to participate & call’d him on his mobile.
Me: “Hello? Ano, naririnig mo ba?”
Bro: “Oo, naririnig kita.”
Me: “Hindi nga, ano?”
Bro: “Oo nga eh!”
Me: “Eh panong di mo ‘ko maririnig eh nasa kabila ka lang? Lumayo ka naman!
Bro: [laughing]

Decidin’ twas pointless to have him participate seriously, I decided to call Globe Customer Service instead.
Me [after numerous punchin’ of numbers w/c finlly led to tha O]: “Hello?”
Operator: “How may I help you?”
Me: “Ah kasi, may problema cell ko, ang problema… [suddenly rememberin’] HINDI AKO NARIRINIG NG KAUSAP KO!”
Operator: “Yes, ano pong problem nila?”
Me: KASI NGA HINDI AKO MARINIG NG KAUSAP KO… YUN ANG PROBLEMA… NARIRINIG MO BA AKO? HELLOOOO..?? LALAKASAN KO PA BA?
Operator: “Yes, ma’am, naririnig ko po kayo, pwede nyo na pong hinaan ang boses nyo.

In ma head, when I’m feelin’ dire & I feel that mortals frustrate me, I talk to him before I sleep. He is he. Not that he is nice. I shout @ him & I’m usually mad @ him. Tho’ he isn’t responsible fo’ wutevr shitty stuff am in, I blame him juz tha same. I’d like to believe that I’ve taken things in stride… an ex best friend shruggin me &ma need to talk away, anotha one leavin tha country w/o tellin’ me, ma inability to defend ma’self if life depended on it, & many otha thangs... but I find that juz a slight tardiness from him & immediately, I’ll fault him witout consideration. I blame him fo’ not bein’ here yet whoevr he is.

Guest post by Rowan Velonta:

tulog


Sumama na yata sa dugo ko ang gatas na ininom ko
kanina
ngunit hanggang ngayo'y di pa rin ako dalawin ng
antok
kahit anong lamig pa ang dala ng gabi. Bakit ikaw,
itinumba mo ang matapang na kape, pero hayan
at malayang namamaluktot, yakap ang matigas na unan.
Pinapanood kita sa yong pagbiling-biling sa nilamutak
na kutson.
at sa lumalalim mong pagtulog habang hinuhukay ko
mag-isa
ang gabing iyon, nabibingi rin ako sa hagok ng iyong
paghilik -
hudyat na nagtagumpay ka na naman at narating ang mga
panaginip.
Mag-isa ka na namang nakapaglakbay
sa mga pangarap na dapat tayong dalawa ang aabot.
Nangako naman akong sasamahan kita kahit saan ngunit
bakit
hanggang sa panaginip di mo ako kayang pagtiwalaan.
Iniwan mo na naman akong nakatunganga't naghihintay
sa pagbabalik ng yong ulirat, nag-aabang na sana'y
bigla kang
maalimpungatan at makita mong gising pa pala ako sa
tabi mo
at tila kuwagong nakamasid sa 'yong paghimlay.
Naghihintay
na kahit pakunwari, kahit pasinghal pa, kahit walang
anomang
lambing sabihin mo sa akin: tulog na tayo.

Instructions:
A. Copy this whole list.
B. Highlight the things that are true about you.
C. Whatever you don't touch is false.

01. When I was younger I made some bad decision -like failin’ to punch those who annoy me! ;-p
02. I don't watch much TV these days -I am TV/movie illiterate!
03. I love psychedelic mushrooms
04. I love sleeping -but sleepin' duzen luv me
05. I have loads of books -that I hate to lend! ;-p
06. I once slept in a bathroom
07. I love playing video games
08. I adore marijuana
09. I watch porn movies –hw bout tis: we were once made to watch a porn movie in theology class!
10. I watch them with my father
11. I like sharksfin dumplings!
12. I love spiders, I think they're adorable, especially the ones with bright colours on their backs
13. I was born without hair and I still have no hair
14. I like George Bush
15. I am cool -and I rule! ;-p
16. I have changed a lot mentally over the last year -I’m now more in touch wit ma schizo side!
17. I have a jacuzzi and a Porsche -[mebbe in ma past life?]
18. I have a lot to learn
19. I carry my smuggl’d swiss knife everywhere –until I accidently wounded ma’self twice!
20. I can be really really smart –but can also be really really thick!
21. I've never broken someone's bones
22. I have a secret
23. I hate snow
25. Punk rock rules –as well as altern rock!26. I hate Bill Gates!
27. I love Chinese food
28. I would hate to be famous
29. I am so not a morning person
30. I wear glasses
31. I don't need glasses, except sunglasses
32. I have potential –meaning I am lazy! haha!
33. I'm pure Japanese
34. My legs are two different sizes –it’s weird but ma right leg has alwez been a bit skinnier!
35. I have a twin cuzins & uncles and am xpectin’ to have twins sumday 2!
36. I wear a padded bra sometimes
37. I can ramble on about absolutely nothing
38. I'm left-handed
39. I hate llamas, but I'm one of them –say wut?
40. I don't like horror movies
41. I suck at climbing, but I love it anyway
42. People hate me usually –an understandable reaction to a goddess.
43. I love pop music
44. I hardly ever go to bed before midnight
45. I hate parking fines
46. I know the national anthem of my country by heart
47. I know more than two languages
48. I can spend too much time on the computer
49. I often want to throw out the computer in a window at a person!
50. I live on a ground floor
51. I don't like chocolate
52. I'd like to be more original –orig to! D aco pirated! ;-p
53. I've lied –only about 10 times in ma whole life!
54. Cocks are my favorite birds
55. I want to conquer the world
56. I wonder what happens when I die
57. I've read all books about Harry Potter –haven’t read tha last one!
58. I love my dog! –I loved ma cat! May he r. i. p.!
59. I love to exercise
60. I hate chemistry with a passion and math, too!
61. I love to write but I wish I could be as interesting as some people
62. I like changes
63. I hate going to class
64. I am afraid to die
65. I hate dish washing with a passion!
66. My hair is long, brown, and incredibly curly
67. My nails are nine inch long
68. My favorite color is black
69. I like to sleep on the floor
70. I am hopeless at cooking
71. I sucked my thumb when I was little
72. I should be doing something else rather than doing this –absolutely!
73. I am online a lot
74. I hate government
75. I don't have a girlfriend/boyfriend
76. I'm too nice for my own good –I cud be such a doormat sometimes!
77. I love to read, I read as much as I can
78. I don't trust newspapers
79. I like debating
80. I live in a wagon
81. I clean my room once a month –that’s bcuz it’s alwez clean… not! Haha!
82. I'm scared of american fast food
83. I have a third eye
84. I love Mozambique
85. I don't trust any religion
86. I used to play with barbies only because all the other girls were doing it
87. I wanted to be a super hero when I was little –I wanted to be kusinera when I was li’l!
88. I like listening to wind chimes –flowin’ water!
89. I'm very disorganized
90. My hair is long and straight
91. I earn a lot
92. I don't like spicy food
93. I keep a diary
94. I can't do cartwheels –but I can lie on ma front & arch ma back to make tha soles of ma feet & tha top o’ ma head meet!
95. I can be very lazy
96. I'm sarcastic more often than not
97. I think my hair can be annoying
98. I could be sensitive –extremely!
99. I love being "ab-normal" –better than to be boring & ordinary like evry’un else!

I wuz countin’…
1] when witout me askin’, you pick’d up scraps of paper I’ve litter’d all over ma area & even help’d me remove tha old caps wen you saw I was in a frenzy tapin’ captions on tha backs of photos w/c tha boss needed immediately.
2] when ya ask’d me if I was ‘biyahilo’ before we ventur’d out in a van to Tagaytay even tho’ I was sorta annoy’d too coz ya made me feel like a kid [again].
3] when you were worried I can’t carry tha press folders by ma’self to an event & talk’d to Mob to let ya go wit me [w/c u ended up attendin' 'stead of me].
4] when you humor’d me by drinkin’ tha rest of ma third shot of tequila I ask’d you to finish fo’ me.
5] everytime ye ask me if I’m okay when I’m toxic & everytime ya give words of reassurance.
6] when ya gave me yer whole bag o’ fries wen I had no food.
7] when ya gave me a discount card ya prolly gave all tha others too. [but f’kors tha one you gave me had been tha most appreciated!]
8] everytime ya gimme gum.
9] ya offer’d to treat me.
10] when you’re juz there @ yer desk wit yer back facin ma side so that ya block tha boss’ vision of me from his desk. [tho’ ya can’t help circumstance].

…ya make me feel tha empty space beside me wen ya git up to check email or use tha pc even if you’re juz goin’ 8 steps away, makin me wish that tha phone beside me wud ring & it’d be for ya so I can cheerfully call ya back to yer desk to have that feelin’ of empty space removed even if we don’t talk much... you are soooo nice & I wna do nice thangs for ya & kick hard on tha face those clients who were meany-mo to ya

...and I like ya.

but I’m “safe” and u’re “safer”, and so for all those times you were ma office hero but I diden show any signs of life, I juz wna say here that hey, I appreciate ya!

Lost in frustration over Lost In Translation

Since I read ‘bout her once in a Vogue magazine, I’ve been anticipatin to watch one of her films. But Sophia Coppola had juz disappointed me. Her most recent award-winning & award-nominating film is ‘bout two American characters in Tokyo –one who is an old actor & tha other a young devoted Yalie wife- who were prolly tha recipients of tha title ‘lost in translation’. How about usin tha adjectives clueless and prissily enduring instead? So both Americans were lonely. One sits around in her panty all tha time waitin fo’ her husband while tha other one has no friends & practices golf in his hotel room fo’ leisure. Tha lady’s preference fo’ pink signifies shez romantic & that she prolly loves her husband more than he does she. So wut? There are prolly a lot more symbolisms which I diden get because of too much subtlety or sumthin! But can I help it if I hate subtlety? I hate subtlety or people who whisper in front of ya, fo’ that matter, same as those who pretend to say sumthin to another when really they be aimin atcha wit God knows fo’ wutevr purpose! And lastly peepz who start to say sumthin to yer face then change their minds & juz tell ya to forget ‘bout it leavin ya to think wit thoughts ‘bout yerself even worse than wutevr unspillable crap they had in mind. I like thangs to be said upfront. Either I’m dense or else I like people to be tactless like me, tho’ sumtyms I do git credited [spesh by sean] fo’ bein paranoid or extremely sensitive & emo[ma schizo half anyway]. Anyway, goin back to tha film, tha two lonely Americans, all platonic till tha end, ends tha film wit a triumphant smack on tha lips before walkin’ away to diff’rent directions, wit an invisible caption that wud’ve read “Now that they’ve kiss’d, they’re ready to face tha world.” And so that’s it. And I can’t pretend to like it albeit tha awards. I don’t.

I never believe in platonic friendship between best friends of tha opposite sex. One or possibly both of em's usually in luv wit tha other. Usually tha one who first insisted in labellin' each otha best friends is tha fallen one and tha one who juz goes along wit tha bestfriend thang tho' he/she duzen care much bout labels is tha unfallen. Tha only thang stoppin' tha un-fallen friend from fallin fo' his/her lovelorn best friend is tha realization that tha fallen is not perfect and that small ounce of imperfection is wut holds him/her back -tha absolute little thang that tha unfallen thinks his/her ideal gurl/guy shud have but his/her best friend duzen have [like looks, a brotherly or sisterly quality, an irritatin? habit] while tha slightly flaw'd other juz goes on dumbly adorin' tha unfallen's perfection.
***
Fo’ 2 days, I was outta home in Tagaytay wit ma office mates organizin an invitational golf event fo’ a bank’s clients. Tha 5 of us includin’ moi, Kelmer, Janel, Raul, & a 70-year-old recreational organizer tha boss hired [Mob was busy barkin’ orders & Eypi was busy wit his ear glued to his mobile smoothin’ out everythan wit clients] were tha epitome of factory workers—We cramm’d in an unventilated storage room and unloaded more than a hundred golf bags from their plastic bags & box, placed more than a hundred box o’ golf balls, caps, & box o’ wooden tees inside & then closed em again. We got involv’d in draggin’ down those bags from upstairs & placin em @ tha registration stalls. We then watch’d over em till registration & teein off time’s up so that no 1’d help themselves to them gorgeous Nike bags wit gorgeous freebies inside since registration area wasn’t in a closed area but where people pass by. We also arrang’d tha raffle prizes & trophies & brought em to tha highlands & guarded over em so no1’d touch em & tha wind won’t blow em o’er before dinner –which is hours away- begins. Some of us went down to tha hole or tha golfin area [or wutever] to make sure that tha photographer takes picture of each player & that he gets each one’s names right. [Guess who weasel’d her way outta it & escaped gettin severely dark by evadin’ tha sun’s wrath?] Sumwer in tha middle of tha second day, every’un else was gone & I found ma’self sittin’ next to Sir John [tha heptagenarian] on opposite ends of tha same bench starin at tha plants in front of us. I stared at tha space between us on tha chair & mused on tha space between our ages & why because of it and some other reason perhaps, we were not talkin’ despite bein bored both… then I look’d @ him & made sure he wasn’t dozin’ off like he was earlier then I closed in on tha space and engag’d him in a conversation about… tha Japanese period. After that we sail’d on to otha topics like Raul’s lack of interest in tha job & how tha dollar and tha peso us’d to have tha same value, etc.
***
Later at tha Country club where we were manning tha registration booth fo’ tha golfers’ cocktails, rich Chinese granddads came to plague tha place. One slit-eyed lolo simply wuden go home witout exchangin’ his lucky raffle draw prize of leather luggage tag fo’ nuthin less than tha last of tha Ashworth golf bags w/ wheels. [bet he was eyein tha bags tha whole time & cuden resist but approach when he saw only one left] Another one hit on me. [“I take you home! Hahaha!”] Another tripp’d as he got his prize. Another one look’d like Mark Jimenez. Another was really Henry Sy. At tha end of tha day, Mob had splotches of sunburn everywhere, Pol smuggled a Tiffany mug that’s suppos’d to be raffled off to tha golfers, Sumone from tha office had ma heart and I took home a bottle of red wine from tha bar [& a golf kit raffle draw prize & hotel slippers]

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!