With A Bang!

It's a tradition we observe during these times when one year is ending and another one is about to start. It's a loud send-off to a year gone by, and a merry welcome to a new year ahead of us. The fireworks, the noise, the merry-making - they're all part of this tradition during New Year's.

But a few days before New Year's Eve, on a relatively peaceful post-Christmas evening, only the sound of little kids playing along the streets could be heard. It was still Christmas vacation time. And it only meant that kids had the license to stay out and play without the worries of finishing up their homeworks and assignments for the following schoolday. You could hear it in their abandoned laughter, their shrieking shouts of joy as they play, and the careless stomps of their flip-flops as they run around jauntily.

Suddenly, a loud BANG came shattering the peaceful noise of the night. The innocent merry-making of kids suddenly stopped. Something happened. The shattering noise was quite distinct. The sound of metal crashing against metal. It was a loud, abrupt, booming crash.

Tatay, who just drove to our place to fetch Mom, rushed outside to check on the source of the noise. Mom, who immediately had an idea as to what caused it, followed him.

In front of our gates, the image of Tatay's Pajero smashed on its front end by the long passenger rear of Mr. A's jeepney was already being gawked at by the kids who were playing just a while back. I can just imagine Tatay's reaction upon seeing the scene.

What was supposed to be just a few minutes of fetching Mom from our house stretched into a protracted discussion and negotiation on how to resolve the mess. Obviously, Tatay's vehicle, which was just innocently parked outside, was the aggrieved victim in this case.

But shit happens.

PUJ vs. PAJ. Is there a more apt word, either English or Tagalog, to describe our situation other than the word "lugi"?

This wasn't exactly Tatay's idea of ending the year with a bang.

Beautiful People

Walking around the Greenbelt 3 promenade was quite an experience for me and my wife. Since neither of us works in the Makati Business District anymore, it becomes very seldom that we visit the place. We usually just go there to shop for particular items that can only be found there. Or maybe just to try out new restaurants.

I do not intend to offend those people hanging out in the Ortigas area (Shangri-La not included) but I feel that Makati people are a lot more chic and fashionably smarter. "Beautiful people" as my wife and I would say.

Like this cute pair that was walking ahead of us by the open coffeeshop area at ground level. Guy was dressed in black slacks and black coat, with hair tossed to an I-just-got-up-from-bed-and-I'm-too-lazy-to-wash-my-hair-or-even-comb-it look. His partner was a micro-mini-skirt-wearing, glittery-tube-top-hugging, hair-dressed-for-a-wild-night-of-partying-which-would-ultimately-lead-to-sex-with-some-random-guy, long-torsoed, and even longer-legged mannequin. The two were straight from the glossy pages of those magazines my wife reads in our comfort room (that I sometimes have no choice but to also read if my own reading materials run out).

The two, obviously, were part of some kind of a show or event. They were a bit too dressed up to blend in with the crowd. Yes, even for the Greenbelt 3 crowd.

Approaching the escalator, the two were just a few steps away from us. And as we boarded the escalator, my wife and I unwillingly caught a glimpse of how long the legs of that girl in front of us was. Gosh, how tall is she, I thought. Are you Japeth Aguilar's sister? I wanted to ask.

On the opposite side of the escalator, another group of mannequins boarded the downward steps. They must be from the same group, I thought, because they were also fully dressed and totally made up. And true enough, the mannequins going down greeted Mr. Pretty Boy and Ms. Long-Legs as they passed by each other on the escalator.

"Why are you up?" one of the mannequins asked almost to a shout.

My wife and I, as if choreographed, turned towards each other. Did I hear it right? Both of us wanted to ask the other.

We don't remember anymore how the pair ahead of us responded to the question. We were dumbfounded enough with what the girl asked. Why are you up? Obviously, the girl wanted to ask the two why they were on their way up. But, geez, it was not even a complex English sentence!

Why? Are? You? Up?

Being the mean SOB's that we are, as my wife and I approached the top of the escalator, she asked me loud enough for the couple ahead of us to hear, "Ikaw? Why are you up, ha?"

And we broke into a laughter.

We don't pretend to be like the beautiful people roaming around GB3. Though I can guarantee you that my wife's fashion sense can match that of any Makati fashionista's. But please, even if you are lucky enough to belong to that beautiful people group, bear in mind that it's perfectly okay to speak Tagalog. Really. You are in the Philippines anyway. Or else, feel the wrath of people like me and my wife who will ridicule you in trying to sound like someone you are not.

Christmas Menu

This year, we decided to stay away from the usual dishes being prepared for Christmas. There were no spaghetti, ham, chicken, or queso de bola from our Noche Buena menu. But for sure, it was equally special nonetheless.

Scrumptiously Sinful Seafood. A blissful mix of fresh shrimps, crabs, and mussels in a rich blend of sweet and chilli sauce. This seafood dish, especially with those delightful crabs, is best eaten using your bare hands.

Loco for Luscious Liempo. Marinated overnight in a specially prepared seasoning, these choice cuts of pork liempo are grilled to perfection by our grill master. Dip it in my wife's secretly prepared magic sauce and prepare yourself to taste the explosion of flavors in your mouth.

Savory Steamed Shrimp. A very plain dish requiring the simplest of preparations. The secret lies in the freshness of the seafood being prepared.

Chef's Choice Chicken Salad. Indulge yourselves in a labor of love by my Mom. Simply delicious, you wouldn't mind eating the same stuff day after day, even after Christmas day.

Sweet Multiple Orgasm. The finale for every meal is the best part, especially for my wife. And since this is the Christmas meal, it deserves to have an overload of dessert. Your choice of fruit salad, buko pandan, cookies, crinkles, grapes, persimmons, ponkans, and mini-ponkans (with a name that sounds like kitkat).

Just writing it made my mouth watery all over again. Makes me wish it was Noche Buena again tonight.

I'm sure my wife wishes the same coz she didn't really enjoy the food that night. Of all the days in the year that she would suffer from an extreme case of colds (making her taste buds practically useless), why did it have to fall on Christmas eve? Tsk, tsk, tsk...

Bye Bye, Bruce

In a few days, Bruce shall be boarding a plane bound for India. It isn't exactly what he planned to do all this time. After a wonderful career here in the Philippines, decorated with various awards to have him claim the top recognition in his class, fate would lead him to a place far, far away from home.

It seems so ruthless for his bestfriend and constant companion to let this happen. His bestfriend would let him go for the price of USD 7,000. In a way, his bestfriend owns him, and so would have the right to sell him for any price. Business is business. Emotional investments shouldn't get in the way of these transactions.

Business is business. 7,000 US dollars. Everything has a price.

Bruce is the Philippine champion bulldog. He has the various dogshow awards to back it up. And various satisfied clients will attest to his top billing as a champion bulldog stag. Now, someone from India wants his bloodline. And that someone is willing to pay 7,000 US dollars - the price of a decent second-hand car - just to have him. Amazing!

And Bruce, the lucky bastard, will continue humping his way halfway around the world.

An Open Letter to Santa

Dear Santa Dude,

I was like thinking when was the last time you made regalo to me on Christmas time. And dude, I realized that it was like so long ago na, pare. It's like more than twenty freakin' years na kaya!

Kaya now, I'm like composing this wishlist of things I'd like to ask from you, Santa dude. You've got so many utang na to me ha. I'm really hoping and praying you won't disappoint me this year. I've been a real good boy all these years naman, daba? So, I think it's only fair na you give me some reward or whatever konswelo de bobo I deserve.

First on my list is a DSLR camera. Preferably Canon siguro since it's the brand I'm quite satisfied with. You know this digicam thingy that I am using right now? It's kinda jurassic na kaya. Can you please give me a DSLR camera with a complete set of lenses? Para when I'm like watching the UAAP games next year at courtside, di naman nakakahiya na point-and-shoot cam lang yung kini-click ko, 'no!

Secondly, can I ask for a new set of wheels? No, not the kotse type of wheels, Santa dude. I know medyo strained din naman ang budget mo with all these economic crisis shit that hit all of us. I'd like to hingi sana the recreational type of toys for the big boys. I have a barkada who's selling those ATV's kase. And I found out that they're so cool, pare. So kaka-aliw to use when I'm just like making gala here around the village. I can even make sagasa all those askals in the other street without worrying about falling down since four wheels nga sya, daba?

Next on my list are two new Technics 1210 turntables. You know, where you play those plaka thingies of the eighties? I have been contemplating on going old school kase with my DJ gig. Nothing beats the feel of vinyl, pare. And since humiling na rin ako sa 'yo ng turntables, why not throw in a brand new Behringer mixer kaya? Those would really be so uber-kewl during parties. As in!

And lastly, like the rest of the text-crazy, masang Pinoy, I'd like to ask for a brand new cellphone. So squatter my cellphone na kase. You know those new cellphone models coming out every week? I still think nothing compares to the Nokia 9500 I've been drooling over for the past few months. Eng-eng kasi yang si James eh. Sabi ko kasi sa kanya, I'll just buy the 9500 one of the Greenhills tenants gave to him as a gift. Tamaan ba naman ng delicadeza, the moron! Ayun, he chose to make soli the 9500. Sayang, I could have made him uto to sell it to me at a very cheap price. Sayang talaga! Obobs!

Yun na lang muna, Santa dude. Di naman siguro over yang hinihiling ko sa yo considering that you made me snob for more than two decades. Kaya mo yan, dude. I'll just wait for those gifts ha. And thanks in advance, pare.

Merry Christmas, Santa dude!

Hoping and Waiting,
Kulotski

PS: We don't have chimneys here in the Philippines. So there's no way you can slide down one if yun ang trip mo. DHL or Fedex mo na lang, dude. Mas easy pa.

Chivalry and Gucci

The Christmas shopping rush is running on its homestretch. I'm pretty sure that a lot of you shall be out these coming days to battle it out with the rest of the shopping public. Here's a reminder to the guys who will be accompanying their wives or girlfriends who are shopping; whether it be in Greenhills, or Divisoria, or Rustan's, or at your local malls.

Carrying your wife's or GF's handbag or shoulder bag is just plain UNCOOL!

I've seen it a million times - guys trying their version of chilvalry by carrying their ladies' shoulder bags when shopping. If you think you are helping revive chivalry by carrying your lady's Gucci bag, think again. Chivalry is defined as the qualities idealized by knighthood, such as bravery, courtesy, honor, and gallantry toward women. I doubt if a knight would want to be caught dead carrying a shoulder bag.

Picture yourself, tagging along your lady, in public, carrying her handbag or shoulder bag. Looks chivalrous to you? Looks gay to me.

My wife and I just stare at each other everytime we see such a scene. I'm lucky I have a wife who understands such things. She even promised me that never would she ask me to carry her shoulder bag for her. We both understand that it's perfectly okay to help a lady carry the shopping bags during a marathon shopping spree at the mall. That - is chivalrous.

But you know those bags which she contemplates on every morning as to which would fit her outfit? Those are personal girly stuff you have no right meddling with.

So, for the girls out there with clueless husbands or boyfriends, do them a favor. Do not let them carry your handbags or shoulder bags. Just hand them the shopping bags instead. That way, they'll feel useful being able to help you carry those heavy stuff.

Chivalry is not yet dead. But I don't think he wants to go shopping with Gucci.

Wrong Number

Coming from the comfort room, I had to run to be able to answer the phone which was ringing.

"Hello," I greeted.

"Hello. Pwede ho bang makausap si Bing?" the female voice from the other end asked.

"I'm sorry. Pero wala pong Bing na nakatira dito," I politely informed her.

She hung up.

About three seconds later, the phone rang again. Most probably it was the same caller trying out the same wrong number hoping to get a different result, I thought.

"Hello," I greeted with the same tone of voice.

"Hello. Pwede ho kay Bing?" Yup, it was her again alright.

"Bing? Anong number ho ba ang tinatawagan nyo?" I asked.

"655-40**," she answered.

"Ito nga po yung number na yon. Pero wala pong Bing dito," I politely informed her.

"Pwede ho kay Bing?" she asked again.

Didn't she hear what I said?

"Wala nga hong Bing na nakatira dito," I informed her for the nth time.

"Pero ito po ba yung 655-40**?" she clarified.

Is this conversation actually leading to anywhere?

"Oho, ito nga ho yung 655-40**. At wala hong Bing dito," I replied, patience thinning by the second.

"Ganun? Pareho kayo ng number?" she answered in a rather surprised manner.

Hayup! Gusto pa yata sisihin ang PLDT at pagbintangang nagbigay ng dalawang magkaparehong phone number. I swear, I 've never heard of such a clincher before.

I held my breath for about a second. Mixed reactions filled my thoughts. My mind was racing to choose from any of the possible bitchy or sarcastic repartees that were available to me. But I still chose to hold back.

"Mali lang ho siguro yung number na naibigay sa inyo," I just told her.

"Ahh... sorry ho," she apologized before hanging up the phone.

As I put down the phone's receiver, I was dreading that a few seconds after, it would ring again.

Thank God it did not.

Philippine Blog Awards

"And for our next award tonight, we shall now give out the Pinoy Blogger of the Year Award," one of the presentors, John Knight, announces.

"Exciting na talaga itong awards na ito, John. Pati ako kinakabahan na," Kuya Germs ad-libs.

It’s the Philippine Blog Awards. From 667 entries, it was trimmed down to 110 blogsites. Then, further cut down to 52 finalists. And tonight, the top three finalists for each category are being recognized.

"And the nominees are…"

"Sean for lengthofwords.blogspot.com." Camera 1 focuses on Sean seated on the front row.

"Sol for teachersol.blog-city.com." A video feed of teacher Sol live from Washington DC appears on the giant screen on stage.

"And last but not the least, kulotski for kulotology.blogspot.com." Cameramen search for kulotski from the crowd. His seat is vacated. Where could he be?

Inside one of the cubicles of the men’s room, kulotski can barely hear what is going on on-stage. Face contorted, hands clasped, as if in a very deep prayer, he concentrates. Damn, diarrhea strikes again. And what a timing!

"Nandyan lang siguro sa tabi-tabi yang si kulotski. Magpapakita rin mamaya yon. Naaalala ko pa nga yan nung bumisita sa Master Showman yan nung pino-promote itong blog nya," Kuya Germs stretches, hoping to buy some time for kulotski to appear.

But no luck. The awards presentation must go on.

"And the winner of the Pinoy Blogger of the Year Award is…" John Knight pauses as the canned drumroll blares out from the speakers.

"Sean for lengthofwords.blogspot.com!"

Crowd applauds as Sean takes centerstage to deliver his thank you speech.

Inside the men’s room, kulotski can vaguely hear what Sean is saying on the mic. But the feeling of relief has finally dawned on him. Relief that all of this is finally over.

(Fiction)

Shop-All-You-Can

Imagine this.

One of the owners of the Greenhills Shopping Complex is your godfather. And as a Christmas treat, he asks you to go around the Greenhills Tiangge area on a weekend and choose all items that you fancy. Anything and everything that you like. Just get them and you don’t have to pay for anything. Your ninong will gladly take care of it.

I can just imagine how my wife would react to such an arrangement. I bet she would have had multiple orgasms just thinking about it. She would probably need two, no, make that three assistants, to help her carry all the clothes, shoes, accessories and home furnishings she would pick up from the different shops.

But my wife isn’t so lucky. She doesn’t have a ninong who is like that.

You know who’s the lucky bastard who received such a treat? It’s AJ, my dear three-year-old nephew.

Well, firstly, it wasn't one of his ninongs who offered him such a gift. It was his Tito James. And James isn’t exactly an Ortigas who owns Greenhills. But it comes quite close. James is an officer with the Greenhills Shopping Center. And he is a god among the tiangge tenants.

So last weekend, Tito James asked AJ to get whatever toy, clothes, shoes and all other stuff that he likes that can be seen at the various tiangge stalls. James would take care of the payment of whatever AJ gets.

Various stall owners were even offering expensive toys, shoes and clothes to AJ. But AJ turned them down. No, he didn’t like those stuff, especially the clothes. His lola owns a shirt factory, why would he care to have some more clothes?

After a few minutes of roaming around the different shops, AJ was ready to go home. Face was gleaming with happiness as he held in his two hands his prized steals – a yoyo and a plastic balloon set.

A kid’s happiness, truly, cannot be bought with expensive gifts.

Hectic

Five consecutive days. Wednesday thru Sunday.

Four SEA Games tennis matches watched live at the Rizal Memorial Tennis Center. Riza eventually won the gold in the mixed doubles with Eric Taino.

Three birthday parties of three good friends. I missed one celebration due to schedule conflict though.

Two baptisms to which my wife is a sponsor of. And the list of godchildren just keeps on getting longer.

One late afternoon wedding. It was our first time to attend one at the Fernwood Gardens – a truly beautiful place.

If I haven’t been able to update my blog lately, those are the reasons why. A very hectic past few days for me and my wife. And we haven’t even started on the Twelve Days of Chistmas.

And the partridge in the pear tree? Being considered as a finalist for the Blogger of the Year Award by the Philippine Blog Awards.

Yah, baby!

Street Crime

It was a busy Saturday afternoon. I was on my way to deliver some shirts to one of our clients in Antipolo. Traffic was quite heavy approaching the junction in Cainta. So what's new?

One vehicle away from me was a long dump truck carrying a load of metal scraps covered by a tarpaulin. Parts of some metal scraps were protruding from the cover.

Waiting for the stoplight to turn green, I was observing the things around me. People started scampering for cover just as the drizzle started to fall. Damn. Just when you had a carwash.

A teenage boy, probably no more than 18 years of age, approached the truck in front of me. He climbed the back end of the truck and lifted the tarpaulin to reveal the metal scraps being covered. He started to rummage through the various pieces of metal in obvious search of something or some things in particular.

A second boy approached the back end of the truck. But he didn't climb it. And it was then that I realized what was going on. The boy ransacking the items aboard the truck dropped pieces of metal scraps to the boy waiting below. I guessed they were choosing which metal scraps would be of big value when they sell it to a nearby junk shop.

The door from the passenger seat of the truck opened as the driver's assistant probably realized what was going on at the back. He shouted at the boy who was still rummaging through the metals. The boy saw the assistant but he was undaunted. He continued handing down pieces of metal items to his accomplice below.

The truck assistant decided to approach the boys behind the truck, carrying a piece of metal pipe as his weapon. It was only then that Boy #1 decided to go down from the truck. But instead of running away from a very pissed off worker just trying to do his job, Boy #1 taunted the assistant to come and get him.

Boy #1 moved away from the truck towards the side of the street, still taunting. And with the truck assistant's attention focused on Boy #1 who was mocking him, it became Boy #2's turn to climb aboard the truck and continue rummaging through the items. He was able to steal a few more pieces before the truck assistant realized the ploy being played on him.

And it was then when both boys, deciding that they've already had enough items, walked away from the truck. They walked nonchalantly as if nothing happened. Boy #1 looked over his shoulder to see the truck assistant inspecting the damage done, realizing the futility of giving the two boys a chase. The assistant shouted invectives one more time at the two boys walking away. Boy #1 just gave him the finger.

Stoplight changed to green. Truck assistant went back to the passenger seat in front of the truck as vehicles started to move.

I was still shocked with the blatant criminal act I witnessed. Everything happened just a few meters away from me. All in one turn of the stoplight. And it was in full view of everyone stuck in that traffic jam.

Beep! Beep!

The car behind me honked for me to move on.

Still bothered with what I saw, I had to go with the flow.

Fashion 101

HUSBAND: Why don't you wear those trendy pants girls wear nowadays?

WIFE: What pants?

HUSBAND: Those pants which are knee-length. A bit shorter than capri pants. I see many girls wearing them.

WIFE: Oh yeah, those. Uso nga 'yon.

HUSBAND: If they're uso, then why haven't you bought a pair during your shopping rounds? I thought you're a fashionista.

WIFE: My dear husband, you're confusing a fashionista for a fashion victim.

(Husband prepares to listen to a lesson in Fashion 101.)

WIFE: What you were describing is a fashion victim - someone who goes with all the latest trends, not knowing if they fit her. While a fashionista is someone who chooses which trends to ride on, knowing that the fashion enhances her over-all look. Or better yet, a fashionista is someone who dictates the trend.

HUSBAND: Okay. So why do you think those pants don't fit your fashion sense?

WIFE: They make my legs look shorter than they already are.

HUSBAND (snickers): Hahaha!

WIFE: Don't you laugh. You've got short legs, too.

End of discussion.

Harry's Heart

Did you know that the Philippines' very own Heart Evangelista was considered for the role of Cho Chang in the latest Harry Potter movie being shown in cinemas?

Now, what would have happened had Heart snatched the role coveted by more than 3,000 girls who auditioned?

Here's the scene that could have been watched by Pinoy moviegoers.

Harry musters enough courage to ask his crush, Cho, to be his date to the Yule Ball which is only a few days away. And an opportunity arises as they get the chance to be all alone.

"The Yule Ball is coming up and I was thinking if you would like to come with me on this special occasion," Harry mumbles shyly.

"Ha? Sorry ha. I didn't quite catch what you said. Ulet?" Cho says.

"I said," Harry repeats his invitation, "I was wondering if you would like to be my date to the Yule Ball."

Naman?! You're super-late na kaya," Cho replies.

Harry has a confused look on his face.

"Omigosh Harry! I'm really sorry talaga. Why did you ask me only now? My gulay! Someone has already asked me to be his date, no!" Cho explains.

"Oh, is that so?" Harry says, obviously disappointed.

"Yeah, eh. I'm really super-dooper sorry. I would have gone with you had you asked me first. So, so , sorry talaga. Promise," Cho apologizes before she walks away from a heartbroken Harry.

But, in fairness ha, Heart is a lot prettier than Katie Leung kaya.

Matchpoint

The tennis match is finally over. The awarding ceremonies have just been concluded. And the picture-taking series with fans and relatives has just been completed.

Riza sits on her chair as sports reporters from various media organizations interview her - the latest sensation in the Philippine tennis scene.

"How was playing here in the Philippines different from the other competitions you join back in the States?" a reporter asks her.

"For one, I'm really glad for all the support I've been getting from all of our friends and relatives here in the Philippines. Back in the States, when I compete, it sometimes becomes so lonely since it is very seldom that a big crowd would be there in the stands to cheer me on. So, it was a really nice experience to have all the moral support I've been getting from all of you guys," Riza replies.

Riza Angela Zalameda shall be one of the Philippines' representatives in Women's Tennis in the upcoming SEA Games.

And Riza, you ain't seen nothin' yet. In a few days, when you step again on that center court carrying the colors of the Red, White and Blue, it wouldn't be just us, your relatives, who would be cheering you on. I'm sure that a lively crowd of your Filipino countrymen would be watching and supporting you all the way.

Congratulations, Riza, for winning the 2nd leg of the Holcim ITF Philippine Women's Circuit.

The House

It was already past midnight. We just came from the wake of a friend’s Mom in Araneta Avenue. And since our route going home would pass by Quezon Av, the ladies insisted that we drop by the Pinoy Big Brother house and take a look. Just for curiosity’s sake. Yeah, right!

My car’s hazard lights are turned on as I stop a few meters away from the house. Our wives have already gone down to take a look at that now famous house near the ABS-CBN compound. I think I even saw a camera crew in front of the house. Maybe they’re taping for an episode to be aired tomorrow.

“Pre, I think they’re shooting something. The red light of the camera is turned on,” my friend Chito tells me.

“Taena pre, I just hope my car’s plate number cannot be read at this distance in case the camera focuses our way,” I told him.

I take a look through my side view mirror. There seems to be some commotion now. The ladies began approaching the guy in front of the camera. Could it be one of the housemates?

My wife hurriedly comes back to our car. As she searches her bag for her cellphone, she tells us that it is JB, an evicted housemate, who is taping in front of the camera. She needs to take a picture - hard evidence to be shown to officemates the following working day.

As my friends and I wait inside the car, we see traffic slowing down as cars passing by The Loop take a look at the shooting going on. A few moments later, the ladies already came back; cellphones filled with shots of one of the newest celebrities in the Philippines.

“So how was it?” I ask them.

“JB is cuter in person than on TV,” my wife replies.

“Too bad it wasn’t Sam, huh?” I tease my wife.

“Oo nga eh. If it were Sam shooting there, you guys might have gone home without me.” My wife’s statement elicits laughter from the group.

“Oh yeah? You guys are lucky. If that were Mariel doing her update, you guys might have to take a cab going home. Coz I would have definitely stayed on.”

More laughter inside the car.

Musta Na?

“Musta na?” I asked my friend.

“My God! It has been a long time,” she said.

Looking back, it has been more than six years since we last saw each other. Yup, it has been that long ago indeed. But I could see that she hasn’t changed much physically – very much like the same way I saw her the last time.

Musta na?

I should have said “condolences”. It would have been the more appropriate statement considering that it was the wake of her Mama. But “musta na” were the words that naturally escaped my lips.

Musta na?

The last time we saw each other was also an occasion for goodbye. It was the day I was leaving for the US for an uncertain length of time. And this time, unfortunately, also was an occasion for goodbye – saying goodbye to her mother who lost her battle with cancer.

Musta na?

She may not have changed physically (and so did I, according to her), but I’m pretty sure many things and aspects in both our lives have changed over the last few years.

Musta na?

An update of things that have happened for each of us seemed to be the logical course of conversation. But how do you start telling an old friend what happened to you for the past six years?

Musta na?

How do you tell things to a friend whom you’ve lost touch with due to reasons too complicated to dissect? Where does one start?

Musta na?

For those Americans who say “how are you?” just as a form of a greeting without the intention of knowing how you really are, this is the tagalog translation. But for us, we really meant more than that superficial greeting.

Musta na?

Obviously, this is a tough moment for her. Being the only daughter, and suffering the loss of her Papa just a few years back, I can’t even begin to imagine the pain this tragedy brought to her. But I knew it wouldn’t be the type of answer I would hear from her.

Musta na?

Words that I uttered when what I really meant was it’s good to have finally seen you again, even under the ill-timed circumstances.

Musta na?

We could only begin answering the question. Bits of information were thrown in here and there to fill in the updates. But we both knew the void created has been too large. We barely scratched the surface of an activity called catching up with an old friend. But hopefully, there can be the proper time for everything.

And as our friends and I left the wake with words of condolences to her, the open-ended question remained.

Musta na?

Miss Universe

“Guess whom I saw earlier while roaming around the mall waiting for you,” I say to my wife in between sips of iced tea.

“One of the Viva Hotbabes?” wife guesses. She knows that female stars belonging to such sexy groups could definitely bring excitement to a celebrity sighting for her husband.

“Not really. But quite close in terms of popularity to the male species. Even surpassing the Hotbabes in terms of babe factor, I would say. She’s not a sexy actress though.”

Wife gave it some thought while dipping some fries on catsup. But eventually gave up easily. “So who was it?”

“Charlene Gonzales,” I proudly inform her as if I actually met and talked with Charlene.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yup. Saw her upstairs on my way to meeting you here. She was browsing thru some furniture shops in that section.”

“What was she wearing?” asks my wife of one of her idols in terms of beauty and class.

“Just a simple striped tee, faded jeans and rubber shoes. Very casual,” I inform her.

“She looks like a doll, huh?” wife says with the “huh” habit that refuses to die down even if we’ve already gone home from LA for about four years now.

“Uh-huh,” I reply trying to tease my wife with my own “uh-huh” habit. “Absolutely one of the prettiest faces I’ve seen. I almost knelt down in front of her and offered prayers to a goddess.”

“But you did wipe that drool off your mouth, right?”

“Yup. Good thing I didn’t forget my hankie.” I say while wiping my mouth with a table napkin after munching the last bite of my burger.

I’m not exactly a big fan of local movies. My wife had to resort to bribery and blackmail tactics just for me to accompany her to watch the latest Aga movies. But all of those are in vain.

But Charlene Gonzales is Charlene Gonzales. And seeing her in person, even if just in her casual wear, definitely made my day yesterday.

Thanks 2 My Txtm8

Received this text message from an unrecognized number a few minutes ago:

Congratulations! You just won 500 peso load. To claim your price, just text back this number and triple sent to 808. Sender: SMART 236

Ordinarily, I would have let this one pass and just ignore it. But being at the end of a long weekend vacation, and nothing much to do earlier this day than rest after the gruelling provincial travel we had yesterday, I gave in to an urge to give the sender of the text message a piece of my mind.

Dude! Get your freakin grammar correct before you try sending out a hoax like this. And try to remember that not everyone is as half-witted as you are. You harebrained moron!

I didn't get a reply from my new textmate. And I've already deleted his message together with his number.

Aww, too bad coz I never got the chance to thank him or her for saving me time on deciding about the subject of my blog entry for tonight.

Trick Or Trip

Last Wednesday morning, my friend, Chito, was in a hurry on his way to work. Driving along the traffic-jammed Ortigas Avenue Extension during the morning rush hour certainly didn’t help in his quest to break his consecutive tardy clock-ins at work for the past few days. But he was still hoping for some sort of a miracle. Maybe the traffic gods could be a bit kinder to him that day and let him zoom his way to his office in Shaw Boulevard.

But that day was not his lucky day. Traffic crawled at a snail’s pace. He was mindlessly driving by the inner lanes of the bridge along Ortigas. And he could clearly see that traffic was also building up even on the opposite lanes. This section is usually the choking point for motorists due to the bottleneck structure of the roads.

He saw a familiar vehicle coming from the adjacent opposite lane. It was Charlie’s FX. Charlie is a friend and a neighbor. He drives the FX for a living and it is not unusual that they cross each other’s path during the morning commute.

Chito honked his horn as his car neared Charlie’s FX. Charlie immediately recognized Chito’s car and beeped a greeting to him while waving his hand. Chito smiled and waved back.

“Oh crap! It’s already 9AM and I’m still here,” Chito realized.

The rest of the morning drive was as uneventful as the rest of the working day. That was until he got home later that evening and got greeted by some surprising news.

Another friend broke the news to him that Charlie died earlier that day. Jogging at the parking lot of a local mall early that morning, he suffered a stroke. He died on the spot.

“But I even saw him driving his FX early this morning,” Chito told his friend.

“Are you sure it was him?” his friend verified.

“Yup, he even honked at me and waved his hand. That was around 9AM,” Chito recounted.

“That can’t be. First of all, Charlie didn't go on any trip today since his FX is banned from the roads, being a Wednesday. You know, that coding scheme. And secondly, Charlie jogged at around 7AM and he was pronounced dead-on-arrival at the nearby hospital at around 8AM,” his friend explained.

Chito creepily realized his day wasn’t as uneventful as he initially thought.

Happy Halloween everyone!

Shaping The Young Mind

“Wectanggu,” my three-year-old nephew AJ says.

My wife draws a rectangle using MS Paint on our PC. I just look on as AJ claps his hands upon seeing the rectangle.

“Shirkow,” utters AJ. His eyes glued to the PC monitor the whole time.

My wife draws a circle right beside the rectangle. AJ thinks this is really fun.

“Huch,” AJ instructs as the next shape to be drawn.

Wife flashes a puzzled look on her face. “What’s a huch?” she asks me.

“Beats me,” I say as I shrug my shoulders. “Mom,” I call out to my Mom to help us out translate AJ’s language. “What’s a huch?”

“A huch is a heart,” Mom explains.

“Ahhh… heart,” wife and I pronounce in chorus.

“Huch, huch,” AJ repeats as if saying yeah that’s what I meant as my wife draws a red heart on the computer.

“Ok, what’s the next shape you want us to draw AJ?” I ask the little rascal sitting on my office chair.

“Atigun,” AJ says excitedly.

My wife and I look at each other.

Atigun? What the? We’re totally clueless.

I turn around to ask Mom for help yet again. But she has already gone to the kitchen. We’re all by ourselves in trying to decipher this one.

“What’s that shape again, AJ?” I ask and this time I tried to listen as carefully as possible.

“Atigun,” AJ repeats with that pleading look on his face telling me how can you not know what an atigun is?!

I pause for a moment, trying to decipher the word. Atigun. A shape. With three syllables. We’ve already done the rectangle, circle, heart. It can’t be the square. Nor the triangle. What other shape could there be? Atigun. A-ti-gun. A-ti…

A light bulb flashes inside my head.

“I have a guess on what an atigun is,” I tell my wife.

“Is it an octagon, AJ?”

“Atigun! Atigun!” AJ says rather loudly almost to a shout, repeatedly nodding his head in agreement. If he can only express his thoughts, I know he would have said “Finally, thank God.”

And my wife draws an octagon.

Reminder to self: ask my brother as to who taught AJ what an octagon is. Little children are not supposed to learn about the octagon till they are about 7 or 8.

Oh Christmas Tree

Since we got married, my wife and I decorate our Christmas tree together. And we usually do it during the extended All Saints' Day / All Souls' Days break.

But this year, we decided to break tradition and set up our tree one week earlier mainly due to two reasons. First, we are changing trees. We needed more time for adjustments should the fickle mind of my wife decide to change colors and motiff if the end result does not turn out the way she expects it to be.

And second, my wife is just plain excited with all the new decors she bought during the three-day-weekend-shop-till-you-drop-or-till-your-credit-card-maxes-out-mega-sale last weekend. Just couldn't wait one more week for us to set up the tree.

We decided to get a narrower tree this year. Not a smaller one, but a narrower one. (See picture) What the new tree lacks in width, it makes up with its height. The new one is a gigantic eight-footer, one foot higher than our former tree. I can just imagine the look on our nephews' and nieces' faces when they get to see this one. AJ would need to have a longer stick in order to pick the balls and the stars hanging on this tree.

If you think that putting up a Christmas tree with my wife is just as simple as buying different colored balls and hanging them randomly on the tree till the spaces run out, think again. This project, my dear friends, took one month of careful planning. It started with the mapping out of the color combinations using Adobe Photoshop (yup, this project involved full use of latest technology). Then we had to run back and forth to the different shops selling Chistmas decors to compare colors, designs, and prices. And, of course, before pushing through with the final purchases, a detailed plan was submitted to me containing the budget for the whole tree and ornaments.

Almost everything went according to plan. Well, except on the calculation of the Christmas lights to be used. We estimated that since the new tree would be a lot narrower than our former, this one should eat up only around 400 bulbs of Chistmas lights. That's 100 light bulbs per two feet. A reasonable estimate.

Or not.

As it turned out, I had to run to the nearest mall last weekend to purchase more lights for our tree. I still can't believe it. How can a narrow tree with a height of 8 feet consume 700 bulbs of Christmas lights?

Our electricity bill for the next two months should be interesting.

It's-Not-Really-Butter

A few weeks ago, my wife decided to hoard on some personal items when The Body Shop in Shangri-La went on sale. It’s her way of coping up when she misses shopping at Bath and Body Works in LA.

I have posted here before about our nightly rituals before going to bed. And with my wife’s kikay artillery fully loaded with new items, her post-bath rituals at night time took a little bit longer than usual. I even saw her applying some sort of cream I haven’t seen before.

“What’s that you’re applying on your arms and legs?” ignorant husband asks.

“Butter,” wife replies matter-of-factly.

“What butter? Non-fat?” husband asks trying to annoy wife who is also watching her telenovela.

“It’s called body butter, dum-dum. It’s a body moisturizer,” wife answers without breaking a beat from her even application of the cream on her legs.

“Ahhhh…” as if husband understands what that is for.

“I think I should apply some on your elbows. They’re very dry,” wife suggests to husband.

“O-kay,” husband agrees uncertainly.

And so that night, my elbows had their first taste of body butter. It was going to be a start of a nightly ritual. And believe it or not, the butter showed results after just a few applications. My elbows aren’t that dry and rough anymore.

Next time, I’ll ask my wife if she can apply some on my knees, too.

I know, I’m a closet metrosexual.

Hang The DJ

My wife hates me for continuously playing the other song.

She says that I am such a KJ trying to spoil a perfectly fine song for her - the song which has been loved by more Filipinos due to its catchy beat and proud-Pinoy lyrics.

But it's just me playing out my skills as a DJ.

On CD deck A was the theme from the TV hit, reality game show, Pinoy Big Brother.

And on CD deck B was the freshly-dug-from-the-archives song, from 80's new wave band The Care, entitled Chandeliers.

I was repeatedy mixing the two songs together trying to find the perfect intro points and counting the bars for a perfect match. It wasn't really that hard.

Now, whether the Pinoy Ako song by local band Orange and Lemons is actually a rip-off of that 80's song is another matter. Ordinarily, I would have given the local band the benefit of the doubt. Musical influences can sometimes be obviously evident with some artists' work. But when I got to hear the song it has allegedly ripped-off, man oh man, was I disappointed.

And to consider the message the song's lyrics convey.

Pinoy, ikaw ay Pinoy
Ipakita sa mundo
Kung ano ang kaya mo
Ibang iba ang Pinoy
Wag kang matatakot
Ipagmalaki mo
Pinoy ako, Pinoy tayo

Listen to it yourself. You be the judge.

http://media.putfile.com/TheCare-Chandeliers

Swipe Me Baby

I just fetched my wife from her whole day shopping therapy session scheduled for this weekend. The major malls in the Ortigas area decided that it was already the start of that time of the year when people shift into obscene spending mode in preparation for that much awaited Christmas gift-giving season.

The renewal cards from our credit card company have just been received through the mail a few weeks ago. And together with the cards was a letter informing us that our credit limit has just been increased – a piece of information which drew different and opposite reactions from me and my wife.

And so my wife decided to break-in her new credit card. A blanket permission to use it for this weekend was granted after a thorough deliberation. My wife pointed out that she needed to test it out just to be sure.

There were two major concerns. First, are the magnetic strips of these cards functioning properly? And second, was the credit card company not just pulling our leg when it said that they increased our credit limit?

For the first concern, my wife did find out that the magnetic strip of her credit card could stand repeated and continuous swiping during her visits to the various shops in the mall. No problem with that.

But for the second concern, well, we didn’t find out about it right away. And I just hope I don’t find out about it in a financially straining manner.

When Winning Isn't Everything

Winning isn’t everything. It’s the only thing. Or is it?

A few years ago, a college basketball team was formed to represent its school in major basketball tournaments. In a sense, the formation of the team was victory in itself. This was because prior to that year, the school found it hard even just to find the warm bodies willing to train and practice to be able to form a competitive team.

The team, being newly-formed, started from the bottom. Competing against schools with more established basketball systems was really an arduous task. Loss after loss, the team didn’t give up. At that point, the team felt that giving it their best shot was already considered a victory.

Year after year, they showed improvements. Until the time came when they had a chance to finally make it to the semifinals – a feat that was quite unthinkable just a few years before.

A major game against a rival neighbor school became a defining match for the character and sportsmanship of the members of the team. After the tightly contested game, the team did win by a slim margin. More importantly, it was finally gaining the respect from its competitors.

The final buzzer already sounded and the team already savored the sweet taste of victory when they realized something. They realized that they violated a league rule regarding the fielding in of foreign players. The tournament rules state that no team can field in more than one foreign player inside the playing court at the same time.

Two of their teammates who played at the same time were classified as foreigners since their official nationalities were other than Filipino. There wouldn’t have been any doubt that they are more Filipino than Asi Taulava. But their passports say they are not. And it didn’t even matter that they were fielded in together by their coach for less than one minute; just because his players were fouling out one after another and maybe the pressure of the game situation caused the honest mistake.

But rules are rules.

But then, nobody else realized the infraction – not the referees, not the table officials, and not even the opposing team. They could have easily gotten away with it and solidify their spot for a semifinal slot. But the team felt they had to do the right thing. And so they brought up the matter to the Board’s attention. Consequently, their win was reversed.

It was a painful loss for a team which had lost every imaginable way for the past years. But the moral victory it brought to them would strengthen their foundation.

They didn’t get to win the championship that year. But that story of such a class act of sportsmanship should forever be remembered. Its lessons would be deeply etched into the characters of each member of the team.

One season later, they would be crowned champions of the league they joined. Yes, there is no sweeter victory than knowing that you strived to be your best and you adhered to the true value sportsmanship.

Congratulations to the Ateneo Lady Eagles! Congratulations for that class act you did. And congratulations for winning the 2005 UAAP Women’s Basketball title.

With the recent brouhaha in college sports, you, girls, have made us, Atenistas, really proud.

Ironic Bitch

Mister A became the president of our homeowners association a few years back. And one of his projects involved putting up the village’s welcome arc closer to the main road. The arc required an extra column in the middle to support its structure. And that column would stand right in the middle of the village’s entrance road.

That wouldn’t have been a problem if the road obstruction the column created wasn’t positioned right after one enters the village main road. So if your car would be coming in from the right side, facing the village, you would need to be careful in maneuvering your right turn so that you won’t hit the concrete column supporting the arc.

The project met some opposition from some homeowners. They stated the obvious danger it posed to motorists. But Mr. A managed to ignore them reasoning that nobody would be dumb enough to drive right thru that concrete column.

And so the project pushed through. It was gonna be one of Mister A’s projects during his administration.

A few weeks later, Mister A’s daughter, driving in a hurry to get home, smashed her car right into that column.

Life is an ironic bitch.

The Intruder

Mom wakes up to the sound originating from outside their bedroom. She doesn’t know what time it is. But she can tell that it is still quite dark outside.

She hears footsteps. Someone seems to be coming down the stairs located near their room. But she can’t really be too sure.

The dogs are quiet. If it was an intruder burglarizing their house, the alarm system would have gone off. And the two layers of canine protection would have surely made noises. The bulldogs outside would intimidate to a heart attack anyone who dares trespass. And the maltese guarding inside the house produces a shrieking bark that would irritate a thief to no end.

Tatay, who is ever the light sleeper, also wakes up to the sound. In the darkness of their bedroom, they eye each other as he motions for Mom to keep quiet as they listen to what’s going to happen next.

The footsteps seem to have reached the bottom of the stairs. And they are going towards their bedroom. As the steps reach the front of their door, they suddenly stop.

Then, the doorknob was turned rather slowly. A gentle push of the door produced a light squeaking sound. But it was enough to be heard in the silence enveloping the entire house.

Tatay and Mom keep still, pretending to be asleep.

The intruder enters the room. He certainly knows where he is going. His shadow moves carefully and remains low, not knowing that my parents already knew of his presence.

He goes around my parents’ bed and positions himself right by my Mom’s foot side of the bed.

Then he grabs my Mom’s legs and shakes it purposely.

“Mama, wake up! Mama… Mama… Wake up!”

It’s their dear three-year-old apo, my adorable nephew, AJ. He wakes up 5:30 in the morning and decides to proceed to his grannies’ room to give them their wake up call.

Iced Tea

One hot and humid afternoon, my Mom fixes my three-year-old nephew, AJ, a glass of iced tea for refreshment. A few minutes later, AJ surprisingly comes back to my Mom handing her his empty glass.

“You’ve already finished your iced tea, AJ? That was fast,” Mom asks but suspects another mischief was cooked up by her adorable apo.

AJ just smiles naughtily.

“Did you drink all of it? Or was it spilled somewhere, AJ?” Mom asks AJ.

“Fish,” AJ pronounces with his bulol tongue.

Okay, fish. What could AJ have meant with that. My mom was wondering.

Mom goes to the lanai where my brother’s numerous aquariums are located. And there my Mom saw it. A portion of the water in one of the aquariums is slightly discolored and cubes of ice are floating around.

AJ decided that his Dad’s flowerhorns needed some refreshments, too.

The Name Game

Yesterday, my wife duped me into going to Tiendesitas, the newest shopping corridor in the Ortigas area, under the guise of looking for the Christmas decors which we will use for our planned Christmas theme overhaul this coming Yuletide season.

We didn’t see much Chistmas decors being sold. In fact, we didn’t see much of what was being offered by the different shops as most of them were still under construction.

As my wife and I got tired roaming around the various shops, we decided to take a break and eat merienda. We tend to relate that shopping and eating should always go hand-in-hand. And that was when I saw two of my high school batchmates. Yup, two of them at the same time. What were the chances, right?

The first batchmate I saw was my good friend, Joey. Joey and I have managed to be in constant touch with each other since graduating from high school. Though we didn’t go to the same college, we did meet regularly. Our bond went from the fun-filled out-of-town gimiks, to the drink-till-you-drop inuman sessions, to the soul-searching Days With The Lord experiences, to the formal organization of our high school batch brotherhood in the form of concrete projects. In fact, we have a project, which is currently put on hold, that we have both agreed to give another push as of our meeting yesterday.

The second batchmate approached us as Joey and I were having our talk. It has already been 17 years since our high school graduation but I still do remember the guy’s face. But unfortunately, I do not remember the name. It was a good thing that Joey was good at this. He remembers the names of most of our batchmates. Or, at least, in yesterday’s case, he remembered the guy’s surname. Well, Joey was not our Student Council President for nothing.

The other guy was De Jesus. I’m not sure now if his first name is Arnel or Ariel. I have heard of him only through our Yahoo email group of which he is also a member. He was there at Tiendesitas to supervise the construction of his wife’s shop. I got to drop by his wife’s shop later on and promised that I would check it out later when it becomes operational.

I admire people who can remember the names of people whom they haven’t seen for the longest time. Too bad I didn’t get it from my Mom. You see, my Mom was a grade school teacher before she became a full-time entrepreneur. And there have been various instances when she would meet former students from 30 years back and still remember their complete names. Yes, including middle initials. Can you believe that?

I guess somewhere along the way, her genes got lost and didn’t reach me. And now, I have to contend myself with identifying people I know, not with their names, but with stories, I remember, of what they did from a long time ago.

“By the way Joey, do you remember that batchmate of ours who brought a floor mop when our World History teacher asked him to get the (world) map? What’s his name again?”

Wanted: Asst. Team Manager

Job Opening

Position: Assistant Team Manager for the DLSU Green Archers

Requirements:

1.) Must pass a thorough psychological examination to ensure that he is not a gung-ho warfreak just lurking and waiting for a chance to start up a fight during collegiate basketball games.

2.) Must not be a sneaky bastard who would act as if he is a pacifist trying to stop an altercation between two players, only to hit the player from the opposing team from the back.

3.) Must not be a coward who immediately runs (almost entangling his legs in the process) after sneaking the cheapshot.

4.) Must be able to teach new dance steps to Ryan Arana.

5.) Must be able to improvise new trash-talking techniques to be taught to DLSU players as the old ones have not been effective in their psy-war against FEU.

6.) Must be emotionally ready for a loss during his first stint as Assistant Team Manager of DLSU as the FEU Tamaraws, led by a certain Arwind Santos, unleash its fury on a team whose string of victories got into their heads even before they win their “back-to-back” championships.

7.) A true La Sallian Gentleman who can bring class into the basketball organization of DLSU.

Interested applicants may just walk in before Game 2 of the FEU – DLSU Championship Series of the UAAP on Thursday, October 6 at the Big Dome. Wear green.

This is a very urgent requirement.

Grumpy Old Man

The new parking rule of one-side street-parking being implemented in our village has solicited both praises and complaints from homeowners. This is kinda expected with the types of characters living in our neighborhood. And I mean characters.

Take Mr. A for example. He is the type of person you wish would be thrown away to a far away island alone where he would live up his dream of being the self-righteous A-hole that he is. Vote himself the lunatic king of his own island. And live according to his dumb rules, whichever suits him.

My Tita S, who happens to be the VP of our Homeowners’ Association, calls up Mr. A to remind him about the new parking rule which he apparently keeps on forgetting to follow.

“Mr. A, the Board would just like to remind you about our new parking rules being implemented in our village,” Tita S politely informs Mr. A.

“What’s that?!” Mr A’s angry response followed by a very crunchy cussing of the P-word.

“Mr. A, I called you up to politely inform you about our village’s new parking regulations. You do not have an iota of a right to cuss me about it. This is precisely the reason why people in our village find little reason to respect you, considering your seniority.” Tita S says, aghast.

“Whoever thought about that new parking rule? And why weren’t we informed and consulted about it?” Mr. A’s hoarse voice inquires.

“Mr. A, this rule wasn’t cooked up solely by the Board of Directors and Officers of our village. This was handed down to us by the MMDA when we asked them for help regarding our parking problems. And we did invite everyone for consultations. Twice, in fact. You didn’t attend both general assemblies,” replies Tita S.

“Why should we follow them? This is a private subdivision. They cannot impose their rules upon us,” rebuts Mr. A.

“Mr. A, are you kidding me?” Tita S laughs sarcastically. “Don’t you remember that we already gave up those rights when we turned over the duties of paying for our neighborhood’s public utilities to the city government? And what’s funny is that I distinctively recall that you were the President of the Homeowners’ Association during that time. How could you forget?” Yup, folks, that is a perfect example of how dumb and obnoxious Mr. A is. And FYI, Mr. A was voted President by the homeowners as a result of a "let's-see-what-you-can-do-as-president-you-Mister-Reklamador" campaign a few years ago.

Mr. A mumbles something incoherently with his irritatingly hoarse voice.

“You had your chances to voice out your opinions,” informs Tita S. “And you didn’t grab them. It’s not our fault that you are too busy with other extra-curricular activities,” probably hinting about Mr. A's openly discussed habit of taking home bar girls when his wife isn’t around.

“I will not follow those stupid rules. Tow my vehicles if you can. And we’ll see who prevails,” sort of a threat from Mr. A.

“We will definitely tow them if you deliberately break the rules Mr. A. And yes, we will see who prevails.” Tita S hangs up the phone.

Poor Mr. A. Little does he know how well-connected Tita S is. With just one phone call to the MMDA or Mayor’s Office (yes, she has direct access to those people), Mr. A’s vehicle would be towed away just like that.

Yeah, Mr. A, let’s see who prevails. I bet my newly tuned-up vehicle that in the end, our streets would be more spacious. And you, with all of your stubborn witlessness, will have to find out about it the hard way.

Thank You, King Eagle

With around six minutes remaining in the fourth quarter, Coach Norman sent you back in for the final push the team needed. We were down by 13. But the Eagle hopefuls were still hanging on. Still believing. Still believing that you would lead us once more with your end-game heroics.

This is your last year, and maybe your last game, but there must still be something that can be pulled off your sleeves. The magic that has made us believers. How could we have stopped believing? Time and again, you have almost single-handedly lifted the team to victory. Thus, earning you the title of King Eagle this year. That title that was unceremoniously handed down to you unofficially since last year when Larry went down with an ACL injury on that fateful day we faced UP.

Six minutes. Down by thirteen points. We could still make it. And maybe extend your last season for at least one more game.

And just as you re-enter the hardcourt from a brief rest on the bench, you set up the next play, maneuvered through the screens, and freed yourself up for that 3-point jumper by the left quarter-court. Nothing as fancy as that stepback jumper coming from an ankle-breaking crossover you dished off during the dying minutes of the previous game. This one was just a simple, business-like shot from a cold-blooded assassin.

Swoosh!

The blue crowd celebrated into a frenzy. Lead was down to 10. We felt that the 3-point shot was the start of a miraculous comeback only you could engineer. Yes, we could still definitely make it back into the ballgame. We believed.

In the ensuing play, Yeo got set up for a similar 3-point shot by the top of the key. And to our frustration, the ball also found the bottom of the net. Lead was back to that unlucky number 13.

And then it happened.

Just as you were crossing half-court, you dropped down on all fours. Up in the Upper Box section where I was standing, I saw it as if it happened in slow motion. And I almost knew it as soon as I saw it. It has been your recurring weakness for the whole of this season. Those dreaded cramps.

As your teammates helped you on your way back to the bench, the whole community felt for you. This wasn’t the proper way to end your playing days with us. No, there had to be a different interpretation of the phrase “going down fighting”.

But as another cliché goes, the mind is willing but the body is weak. Your cramped up legs were traitors to your plans. And as you lied down by the sidelines as you got your legs massaged, you probably knew about it, too. It might be hard to accept but that 3-point shot may have been your last basket as a Blue Eagle. Watching your teammates being toyed around from the bench must have been really hard. But there was nothing else you could do.

And as the final buzzer sounded and the smoke has cleared, we proudly sang our Alma Mater song one last time for the season. We saw you, Badjie and Magnum – the three Eagles whom we wouldn’t get to see again next season – frustrated with this loss. Up there in the galleries, we may not have visually confirmed if tears indeed welled up in your eyes, as others said. But we sure felt how broken your hearts were for not being able to finish this season with a win against our arch-rivals.

You may not have heard it but sporadic shouts of “Thank you, LA!” were yelled by the crowd in our sections.

For all those times you made that step-back three. For all those times you disrespected tall defenders with your acrobatic reverse lay-ups. For those nifty no-look assists you dished out. And for showing everyone, including your detractors, how big the heart of an Atenean really is. Your roots may be red, as you were trained as a Cub in Mendiola, but we are all certain your heart bleeds blue as soon as you stepped into the hardcourt wearing Our Lady's colors.

Thank you for the five years of service to the Blue and White.

Thank you, LA. Thank you, King Eagle!

Where Does Sandara Park?

The MMDA recently issued new rules inside our village regarding parking to curb the worsening problem of congestion along our streets. Mind you, the congestion is not because of the volume of traffic along the roads of our humble subdivision. But it is because of all of those parked cars along the streets that have practically made driving a strategy game, especially when there is another car approaching you from the opposite direction. And yeah, those smartly-placed humps add to the difficulty level.

There is something we have in common with people in the US. That people do not park their cars in the garages. I have observed while I was in the US that the garage usually contains all the junk of the house and becomes the workstation during the weekends. With the garage practically filled up, they choose to park their cars along their driveways.

And there lies the major difference. We do not have driveways here. Heck, we do not even have sidewalks here so what driveway can you expect from those realty developers? And for whatever reason, people prefer not to use their garages for parking. Even my parents are guilty of this. They build a garage fit for 4 cars, and when you pay a visit to their house, chances are you would only get to see one car in the garage, and the other two are parked outside, right in front of their house. Their pet bullbog makes the vacant portion of the garage her playgound. How spoiled.

So as of now, this sort of experimental parking rule is in effect in our village. People can only park their cars using one side of the street. Leave the other side of the road empty to prevent congestion.

Pretty soon, this parking rule, if proven to be effective and implementable, would also be applied to other subdivisions in Pasig. And when it reaches the village where my parents reside, they may have to decide to move over their pet bulldog back to the front yard, the back yard, or the lanai.

ACET, UPCAT, ATBP

I just learned while blog-surfing that the ACET has just been conducted last weekend. For those unfamiliar with it, it’s the Ateneo College Entrance Test.

And I was a bit surprised with a young girl’s blog entry about her ACET experience. She said that she was also surprised that she found it much easier than the UPCAT (UP College Admissions Test). She actually found the ACET fairly easy that she even had enough time to sleep when she finished one section of the test ahead of time. Wow!

I took 4 college entrance exams 18 years ago (all of which I passed, thank you). And with all due respect to the Maroons reading this blog, I found the UPCAT much easier than the ACET. Of course, that doesn’t necessarily mean that it’s harder to get in the Ateneo than to enter UP. It’s just the entrance exams I am talking about here. But for that kid to say that the ACET was easy, that certainly confuses me.

During our first few days as freshmen in the Ateneo, we did discuss the subject of the entrance exams. I told them that I never thought I would pass the ACET after taking it. And to my surprise, even the smartest among us, thought the same. And yes, I’m even talking about the Philippine representative to the International Math Olympiad here who didn’t finish the Math portion of the ACET himself. Whew, that was a sigh of relief for me there. I wasn’t as dumb as I thought I was after all.

I wouldn’t say that the UPCAT during my time was easy. But neither was it too hard. But the ACET? Man, oh, man. The perfect words to describe it would be frustratingly difficult. And that would even be an understatement when you compare it to another school’s entrance test (which I choose not to name). The other school’s entrance test was insultingly easy that I even found time to sleep when I finished one section of the exam way ahead of time. And no, I didn’t just get this idea from that girl who blogged about it. I swear it actually happened.

So, maybe the Ateneo did revise the ACET to become a bit easier. Or maybe UPCAT became harder. Or maybe that girl blogging just didn’t know what she was talking about.

Whatever it is, the entrance exam is just the first step. What matters more is how you stay in your chosen course and school.

And for all the energy and mindpower that the ACET drained off me, I can positively say that the whole Ateneo experience was well worth it.

Are You In Or Out?

I brought my vehicle to the auto shop earlier. It was a bit overdue for its prescribed mileage tune-up. And since it was already late in the afternoon when I brought it there, I had to leave it overnight for them to finish up working on it. Thus, I had to commute on my way back home.

On my way to the waiting shed, I was trying to decide which mode of public transportation to take going home. The choices were a.) taxi b.) FX, and c.) jeepney.

I have never been a cab-riding commuter. There’s just something about the smell of most Metro Manila taxi cabs that makes my guts turn upside down. Try playing badminton for 4 straight hours. After that, put all your sweat-drenched clothing – shirt, socks, and shoes – inside your sports bag and let it stay there for one whole day. When you open the bag the following day, that kind of smell is what I recall when I open the door of a taxi cab here in Metro Manila. Well, of course, there are exceptions, especially with the relatively new and well-maintained cabs being driven around the metro. I think my description would apply more to those Gemini taxi cabs of the 80’s which are already phased out by now. But still, that has been how my mind was conditioned when you say taxi cabs.

I haven’t been an FX rider either. This fairly new mode of transportation is actually a cross between the earlier described stinky taxi cab, and the distinctively Pinoy jeepney. I am still amazed how ten people can actually fit inside one of those.

But I didn’t take an FX earlier. Coz I decided that I would take the good ol’ jeepney. Yup, the proud product of Pinoy ingenuity. The king of Metro Manila roads. And the object of my ever-expanding vocabulary of cuss words.

It seemed that I really missed riding the jeepney. The smell of Manila’s smoke-polluted air. The langka-flavored body odor of that person beside you. The sight of the oblivious young couple in front of you. The sound of its blasting radio mixing with the zoom of all the vehicles around you. The suffocating heat inside during a traffic jam. And the unwritten in-and-out rule of seating when your side reaches maximum seating capacity.

So, are you in? Or are you out? Riding a jeepney is a total experience. A totally Pinoy experience.

Short Shirt Story

My family has been involved in the garments industry since the early 80's. And we have been catering generally to the local market. You know, those types of casual t-shirts that you buy from the department stores and your favorite tiangge outlet.

And with this particular background, I have been pretty updated on the latest trends on Manila’s casual fashion wear particularly with the basic staple of everyday wear – the t-shirt. I may not be a fashionista like my wife. But I do understand the way trend and fashion come and go.

I remember way back in the late 80's, when I entered college, girls and guys alike basically wore the same cut of shirt. The girls just had more girly and cutesy designs or prints on their shirts. And they just wore sizes relatively smaller than the boys’. Guys liked wearing them loose and comfortable. But as for the cut of the shirts, they were all the same -- straight on the body, and standard proportions for the sleeves – both for guys and girls.

But as time went on, the shirt industry saw some major leaps in the market. Thanks to the cut-throat competition between the then-emerging local brands in the casual wear market. The products eventually became more specialized. And the market consequentially became more segmented.

The cut of the t-shirt, particularly for the ladies, thankfully began showing some shapes and revealed more skin. The body of the girls’ shirts became shorter, narrower and more defining to the female’s natural body curves. The sleeves took a variety of shapes and lengths. And even the neckline became more adventurous in the way it was worn. New products like the baby-tee, the tank top, and the body-hugging shirts literally and figuratively stretched the spectrum of casual fashion for the ladies.

I remember way back in college, a girl classmate of ours once wore a tight-fitting sleeveless shirt to class. And she was, um, shall we say, nicely figured especially in the chest area. And as expected, all the males in our class enjoyably noticed it. Who wouldn’t? That was still a time when casual clothing was still very conservative. You know those pieces of clothing most girls nowadays wear at parties and gimiks? We used to consider them underwear. And no girl in her right mind, no matter how adventurous, would dare wear it when going to a mall (yes, the very first modern mall of Metro Manila, the Robinson’s Galleria, was constructed during our early college days, just in case you're wondering).

But hey, who’s complaining? I bet all shirts I have in my closet that the men aren’t complaining. And I too, am certainly not. On many levels at that. First, it’s good for our business – less fabric, less cost of goods, better profit. Second, it gives more room for creativity and personality statements for the ladies. And lastly, it provides more eye candy for people like me who know how to appreciate sexiness in clothes and the way clothes fit the female body.

Only time can tell what's in store for us in terms of casual wear in the future. But something tells me that we are going to enjoy it even more.

To Be. Or Not. Tutubi

Tutubi, tutubi
Wag ka magpahuli
Sa batang mapanghi

I saw a dragonfly in our front yard this morning. It was a red one. Or as I and my playmates used to call it when we were still young -- tutubing tanga.

You would have to have experienced catching dragonflies to know the reason behind its demeaning nickname.

Dragonfly-catching, just like other juvenile sports, requires skills and techniques which can only be improved thru practice. Yes, kids, these types of activities constituted the leisure time hobbies of kids before PS2 was invented.

And dragonfly-catching, just like the modern-day PS2 games, has different levels of difficulty. And believe it or not, it depends solely on the color of the dragonfly that you choose to catch.

The red dragonfly I just saw earlier would belong to the easy or novice level. Most of the time, the red ones are large. And maybe, their size becomes a liability for their speed factor, that they find it difficult to zoom away fast enough when they need to. It's pretty easy to catch red dragonflies.

Now, should catching the red ones bore you, move up to the next level. Try catching a green dragonfly. But this would need some more skill on your part since they are smaller and faster than the red ones. You have to be real quiet when sneaking up behind it and catching it on its tail between your thumb and your forefinger.

The last type of dragonfly is the blue one. Now, this is where boys get separated from the, um, well, slower boys. You really have to be an expert if you wish to catch a blue dragonfly. The thumb-forefinger method isn't usually effective when catching it. The blue ones are a lot faster, quicker reflexed, and generally more paranoid than the others. The slightest of movements is enough for them to sense and fly farther away from you. So the snatch technique is the best to apply in catching them. Quietly approach it from behind. And when you are already at a comfortable distance, not too close that it notices you, but close enough to be within your arm's reach, grab it. Using lightning speed, grab it, as if with a slapping motion. Quickly close your hand as soon as you feel it touch your palm. But be careful not to crush it.

I used to catch all kinds of dragonflies when I was a kid. Red, green, blue, the teeny-weeny tutubing karayom, and even the humongous tutubing kalabaw. Sometimes my friends and I did it just for the thrill of it - eventually releasing them after a while. Some kids experimented with them by tearing off their wings or tails. While some kids, already showing signs of psychotic behavior, decapitated the head of the poor creature by giving it a pitik. (Is there an English term for pitik?)

And as I told you, the dragonfly I saw earlier was a red one - the tutubing tanga. It would have been easy picking for me. But I decided not to catch it though. I guess I outgrew the childish sport. And besides, di na kasi ako pumapatol sa tanga.

Starstruck in LA

The spring breeze in LA feels cooler than normal as it touches my skin. Yet I feel the dampness of my sweat hugging my body. This is the familiar nervous feeling I get whenever a big event in my life is about to happen. And today is gonna be one of them. I'm going to meet an idol I have long-dreamed of meeting since I was still a kid.

And as I enter his house, I feel my heartbeat getting faster and faster. Partly it may have been due to the fatigue brought about by this very busy day. Since early this morning, continuous activities filled my day. And this particular meeting shall be a high point in this very hectic, yet excitement-filled adventure.

A simple prayer is said in my mind. Please let everything turn out ok during this memorable event of my life.

I was half-expecting him to greet me as I entered his doorway. Maybe seated in his living room, he would motion for me to sit down with him and have coffee. But I knew that was wishful thinking. I knew that he is a very busy being. In fact, he is still currently attending to other people who were also longing to meet him. But I'm willing to wait for my chance to finally shake hands with him. I've travelled long and far just to be here. And a little more patience wouldn't hurt.

I survey the inside of his house. Everything is quite the way I expected it. The fun-filled atmosphere, the funky colors, the warm feeling of home as radiated by his sunny personality. I had my picture taken by his piano, imagining the moments when he would fill the room with the music he plays. I wonder what type of pieces does he like to play?

I also imagine him using that telephone by the corner. The conversations that the telephone was a party to. I could almost hear his snicker and laughter by this end of the phone conversation.

As I enter the other room, the excitement steadily grew. Right behind that wall is where I would finally meet him. I clasp together my clammy hands. I have to wipe them dry from all the nervousness I was feeling. Must project a good first impression to him as I shake his hand.

So this is it. The moment I have been dreaming of since I was a kid. Meeting him who has given me so much joy and laughter. Him who has been the symbol of dreams coming true. Finally, mine would come true today. Right here. Right now.

As I entered the room, I realized what starstruck deeply meant. For a moment, it failed to register to me as real. But it quickly faded as I approached him and shook his hand. Oh my God, he is real. I just shook his hand. And everything that followed felt like a scene from my own personal notion of heaven happening in slow motion.

A picture is very much treasured in moments like this. And so shots were taken. Pictures that I would forever cherish for the rest of my life.

Another short prayer is uttered in my mind.

Thank You, Lord, for finally letting me personally meet...

Mickey Mouse.

Play That Funky Music

It's true that I have an eclectic taste in music. I can appreciate most genres. Depending on my mood, I listen to different types of music.

For me, there are certain songs which I like to play when I'm driving. Well, let me qualify that coz driving music to me has different categories. Like when I'm driving alone, I like listening to house or hiphop music. Keeps me awake and alert. Plus, I feel cool, hoping that I also project that cool image when people see me from the outside (yeah, I wish). Sometimes I also do listen to FM radio just to get me updated on the songs being played on Philippine radio. But when I'm driving and I have company with me inside the car, I like playing singable tunes. OPM songs belong to this category. Nothing beats an instant karaoke session inside your car to keep you from being bored especially during long trips. Sleeping is strictly prohibited when I'm driving.

When working or doing something with my computer, that's the perfect time for me to listen to new CD's or any new music I've downloaded from the net (shhhh...). This is when I choose which tracks would be my favorites since they are catchy enough to get my attention from whatever it is I'm doing.

But if what I'm doing requires full concentration, like balancing my checkbook and trying to remember where all my money went, I prefer classical or broadway music. It seems to me that they do a great deal in stimulating my mind (but, unluckily, not in figuring out what's wrong with my budget).

Now, for party music, I have different levels for it. Hey, you're reading a DJ's blog here, remember? Depending on the age and taste of the people I am with, I have the special program prepared for them. Candy music when I want to play safe with my music (think Swing Out Sister). Nostalgic 80's new wave (from Aztec Camera to Yazoo) during drinking sessions which my Gen-X buddies. Head-bobbing RnB / hiphop / rap music when I'm with kids who associate the lyrics of "Every Breathe You Take" to P.Diddy (formerly Puff Daddy, and now wants to change it to Diddy; what's next? D?) in "I'll Be Missing You". And lastly there's pounding house music, all sub-genres of it - funky house, hard house, vocal house, techno-house for chest-thumping, feet-tapping, mood-setting dance atmosphere.

There's just this weird choice of music that I, myself, do not fully understand. And I remember this taste or habit dates back to my college days. Usually, after mindpower-sapping exams, when I get home, I lie down on my bed, turn up the volume of my player, and listen to heavy metal music until I fall asleep. Yup, hard, noisy, heavy, hardly-comprehensible, metal music. And I fall asleep listening to it.

I have a theory. Maybe when my brain detects this type of music, my brains cells go haywire trying to make sense of the auditory stimulus. And in the process, it eventually gives up on the task and consequentially goes into its emergency shut down mode. Thus, I easily fall asleep.

I wonder what would happen if I watch an Iron Maiden concert.

Hmmm...

Nah, I don't wanna risk being sent into a comatose.