Fashion Police

"Nag-uulit pala ng damit si Regine." My wife commented.

"Ha?" I asked, not sure what she meant.

We were having our Sunday lunch. And the TV in the kitchen was tuned in to SOP. It was a taped episode of their grand launch for their own version of the GMA Filipino channel in the States. Another chapter in the never-ending Battle of the Networks between ABS and GMA.

"Yang suot ngayon ni Regine, naisuot na nya dati yan. Dun sa telenovela nila dati ni Richard Gomez." explained my wife, referring to Regine Velasquez who was performing a series of makapatid-litid belter songs with Jaya.

I stopped chewing my food.

How did she know that? She actually remembers? And that single episode in the telenovela she was talking about was aired eons ago. And she freakingly remembers? Heck, I can't even remember what I wore to sleep last night. And she remembers a singer repeating an outfit?

My wife continues to amaze me. I temporarily forgot. I am married to a fashion police.

Apple Of His Eye

This is a true story, I swear. Though I shall not mention the name of the person to which it happened to, I can assure you guys that it's not me. For purposes of simplicity and anonymity, let's just call him "J".

Alcohol gives J the numbing feeling. Takes away his inhibitions. Being torpe has always been his problem. It has even become his notorious trademark.

But this night he promises himself it's going to be different. He is with his friends. And tonight he's gonna show them who the real J is. He will score.

As soon as their first round of drinks arrive, he gulps down his first bottle. As he puts down his half-empty bottle, he surveys the crowd in front of him. Crowd is already kickin'. But the better news is that the girl-to-guy ratio seems to be favorable for the males

Tonight is my lucky night, he tells himself.

A few bottles of beer later, he feels his bladder ready to explode. Must find his way to the restroom in this dark bar filled with people gyrating side by side to the sound of pounding hiphop music. The effects of alcohol on his bearings can certainly make that task a bit harder than usual.

On his way to the men's room, a gorgeous girl sitting in one of the tables in the corner makes eye contact with him. Nice, straight, black hair just falling below the shoulders. Her eyes a bit chinita. Nose perfectly sculpted. And those lips... hmmm.. so sensual. The term kissable certainly fits. Nice, perky boobs, too.

J immediately surveys her company. Three girls. Good, walang naka-bakod.

As he passes by their table, he flashes her his cutest smile. She smiles back. His heart skips a beat.

This is it. But he didn't approach her right away. The call of nature is more demanding at this point. And besides, he can plan the perfect attack while he does his thing inside the men's room.

Luckily, there was no queue at the men's room. And after emptying his bladder, he studies himself in front of the mirror. Hair, ok. Clothes, ok. Breath, ok.

Emerging from the restroom, he immediately proceeds to the girls' table. He delivers his pick up line naturally. And everything came so easy. He almost couldn't believe it. What a lucky night for him indeed. And a few minutes later, they can be seen locking lips the french way.

After exchanging numbers with the girl, he kisses her goodbye, and stands up. There is an obvious swagger in the way he walks back towards his barkada's table. His friends are all looking towards his direction. Grinning. They have seen his latest conquer.

As soon as he arrives at their table, he gloatingly asks, "Ayos ba, mga tol?"

His barkada erupts in laughter. One of them answers J, "Pare, ikaw ang tanungin namin. How does it feel to french kiss a guy?"

J was confused.

"Tol napeke ka nun! Hindi babae yung kalaplapan mo kanina! Bading yon tol!"

J stares helplessly at his friends who are still laughing uncontrollably. He then searches for that girl he just met earlier.

Then he saw something he failed to see earlier. That "girl" he just exchanged body fluids with has something extremely important that he couldn't believe he didn't notice earlier.

That "girl" has a protruding Adam's apple.

Oh shit!

Baby Names

A friend of ours recently gave birth to her second son. Again, so as not to reveal the identity of our friend, let's just conceal her under the name Chinky.

We went to visit Chinky at the hospital. As we waited for the nurse to bring the baby into the room, Chinky relates to us how unprepared they were for the name of their new baby. It was simply because she and her husband were hoping and praying for a baby girl since their first child is a boy. They've listed down all the possible baby girl names, and none of the baby boy names. Clever parents.

This delivery came a bit ahead of schedule. So when she delivered, they didn't really have a name yet for their second son. They panicked when the doctor asked what the name of their new-born shall be.

If the baby was a girl, it could have been Christine. My friends and I would have been very pleased to baptise her with a nickname -- Tin-tin. Perfect since her kuya's name is Ethan. Our barkada gave him the perfect nickname -- Tan-tan. Tan-tan and Tin-tin. They would have been the tantantining siblings.

Chinky wasn't really pleased with the idea.

Then, the name Elijah Collins became an option. Nice name for their new baby boy, right? But being the smart-ass barkada that we were, the name only took one second to register to us as a joke. Try saying the name fast. Elijah Collins. Again, faster. Elijah Collins. See what I mean? It may not be a good idea after all.

So, in the end, the couple chose the name Yoseph Maximus. Very strong. Extremely masculine. Just the way Chinky wants their new baby boy to be.

So, as we congratulate Chinky and Evan for their new baby, let us all celebrate for the newest blessing into their lives. And just like with your first baby, we, as your barkada, already have the perfect nickname for Yoseph Maximus.

Welcome to the world, Imo.

Kulotology: Episode I

I was able to tweak the title and logo sections of my blog template. How do you like them? The baby in the logo represents me, kulot. The pet name somehow stuck with me. Wanna know the reason behind it?

Here's how it all began...

*** harp plays... flashback ***

Thirty-plus years ago, when my Mom first held me in her arms, she knew right then and there, her first-born son was going to be different.

A sliver of hair by the upper side of the baby's head became the sign. It curled into a "J".

"Ayy, kulot." was all my Mom could say.

As I grew up, mingling with the other kids, I realized that my hair was different. Most of my playmates had straight, evenly-layered hair while mine was wavy and curled as it grew longer.

When my family moved to our new home in a then-barely-developed subdivision here in Pasig, I had to adjust to my new set of playmates. I easily got along with them though. And our community, being made up mostly of family-starters with kids my age, there were lots of new playmates to befriend. Yippee!

Being a relatively small community of kids then, word spread out about the new kid on the block. That kid who just moved into that newly-built house. That kid who has a high forehead. That kid who has a different-looking hair from the rest of the kids. That kid who has curly hair.

Hintay pa tayo ng isa. Kulang pa tayo e. Di pa tayo pwede maglaro ng touching rubber (that's how we called the game "Cops and Robbers", paki mo?!)

Oo nga. Di bale, maya-maya lalabas na rin si kulot.

Anong kulot? Sinong kulot?

Yung bagong lipat dun sa bahay na yun o.

Ahh, yung batang kulot yung buhok? Ano ba pangalan nya?

Ewan ko! Nalimutan ko eh. Nakilala namin kahapon pero nalimutan ko kung ano pangalan nya eh. Basta siya yung kulot.

And so my new playmates and friends baptized me as kulot.

It was kinda weird at first. But as I grew up, I got used to the pet name. There came many variations to that name, or alias if you will. There's kulotski. Kulotis. Curly. Curly tops. Cutie. Last one doesn't fit in? This is my story, remember?

Some of my close friends still endearingly call me with different versions of that pet name. No problems for me - yet.

But I just hope that the day wouldn't come when kids would call me "Mang Kulot". Sagwa!

SONA (Fashion) Review

It was a special non-working holiday today here in Metro Manila. It was the President's State Of The Nation Address, or SONA for short. First time that a holiday was declared due to a SONA. The President may have wanted the people in Metro Manila to watch her speech on TV. Or she may have simply wanted fewer people on the streets to avoid further chaos if the situation heats up. Whatever the reason is, my wife really didn't care. It became an extra day of rest and pampering. It was manicure and pedicure day.

I was able to fetch my wife from the salon just in time for the SONA. Being the politically-aware citizens that we are, my wife and I sat down on our sofa in front of the TV to watch the political hoopla unfolding in Congress.

While watching events like this, my wife automatically shifts to fashion police mode. But this time, she was disappointed with the seemingly low-key fashion statements of the matronas of Congress for this SONA. None of the pabonggahan in ternos and jewelry for these ladies who used to make this event their own version of the Academy Awards. The current political crisis really has affected various aspects of the Filipino's life. Bad, bad, bad.

GMA arrived wearing a blue Filipiniana dress which her Mom, former First Lady of the Republic, Eva Macapagal, used to own. My wife educates me by telling me that it is called a panuelo. And my wife just loved the necklace that GMA wore as the perfect accessory. At least, GMA became the saving grace for fashion this afternoon. This was opposed to the numerous times when my wife would curse the President's stylists for her dull and boring outfits on special events such as this.

Then, GMA started delivering her 23-minute speech in front of Congress.

And barely five minutes into the SONA, my wife was already positioning my head comfortably as I began to snore.

So much for being a politically-aware citizen for me.

Morbid Tales

I have a friend who has weird knack for telling stories about dead people. For the purpose of concealing her identity, let's just call her Tish.

On one of our long road trips, my friends and I discovered this strange choice of subject of our dear friend. Somehow, whenever Tish would start telling a story, the person in her story would always end up dead.

And do you wanna know what she does on her spare time? She browses through the Obituary Section of the newspapers. Why she does that? Two reasons. First, there might be someone she knows who died recently. And second, she just tries to figure out the reason why the person in the obituary died.

I am actually impressed as she can sometimes link the name in the Obituary to a news report about a road accident a few days back by just basing them on the few available info. I know, mala-CSI. A very odd talent. An odd, yet impressive talent.

I have some very weird friends.

FX Driver

I have been driving since I was 18. I still remember that fateful first day. Just a few days after my 18th birthday. My cousin accompanied me to the Mandaluyong office of the LTO to get my Driver's License. No glitches. Right that day I was already legally allowed to drive my car down the streets of Manila.

From the LTO, I dropped off my cousin somewhere in EDSA. And then I was unleashed. Unleashed in the urban maze that was Metro Manila. It was my first time to drive along EDSA -- on my own. And man, was I so terrified.

I still had to attend my classes that day. And I was just praying that I reach the campus with my car still in one piece. Just follow every traffic rule. Stay away from those ruthless bus drivers along EDSA. And do not be in such a hurry. It's better to be late for my first class that day than be traumatized by a car accident for the rest of my life.

Thank God, I was able to survive that first day.

But now, I am already a hardened road warrior. I can now take on those buses snaking their way along the highways. EDSA is now peanuts for me. When I want a harder driving challenge, I go to the pier area and race with the trailer trucks there. I have even perfected the act of the stare down which always comes in handy for those stupid taxi drivers.

And just this afternoon, I drove my wife on her way to her haircut appointment. As I masterfully maneuvered our vehicle down traffic, weaving in and out the lanes, my wife just told me,

Grabeh! You now drive like an FX driver! Tsk, tsk tsk...

She may have a point.

Saturday Fun Machine

Here's an entry about my childhood days and an explanation for the Saturday Fun Machine I mentioned in my previous entry.

When I was still a kid I really loved playing outside on weekends. Yup, I was a batang kalye as we call it. Fortunately, my Mom would allow me to play with my friends along our street since there really weren't many vehicles passing by inside our village.

And I remember having my boundaries. The two consecutive street humps near our house served as my playing limits. Special permission was needed if I wanted to go beyond those points (i.e. we have to make dayo to the other street to challenge the rival kids to a game of football) .

If it was a weekend, and I was not to be found outside playing, there could only be one of the following reasons:

a.) My skin tone, as perceived by my Mom, has already reached its nognog limit. It was a barometer my Mom used to know if I have been excessively staying out under the sun playing tumbang preso.

b.) Exam week was coming up and I had to study the whole weekend. Yup, I was a diligent student. Oh, let me qualify that. I was a diligent student when I was in grade school. Post grade school? Now that's another story.

c.) It was Saturday morning and Saturday Fun Machine was being shown on RPN-9. I could have gone out if I wanted to. But, you see, I wouldn't have anyone to play with anyways. Since all kids are glued to their TV sets, the streets would be deserted for quite a few hours.

Back in those days cable TV was just a payabangan story your playmate would tell you.

Playmate A: Sabi ng pinsan ko sa States, dun daw sa kanila, lagpas 100 ang channels nila sa TV.

Playmate B: Sus, yabang. Paano naman mangyayari yon eh hanggang 13 nga lang ang pihitan sa TV?

Playmate A: Eh bakit ba mas marunong ka pa? Inggit ka lang kase black and white pa nga lang yung TV nyo.

Ok, I just made up that last line. My friends weren't that mean, hehehe.

But the point is, there weren't much choices back then. Almost all kids watched the same TV shows. So, if a hit cartoon show was being shown on TV, you better watch it or be left behind when everyone talks about it the following school day.

And Saturday Fun Machine was a smorgasboard of cartoon shows that any kid wouldn't want to miss. It was a TV marathon which starts at 8AM and ends at lunchtime. It was cartoons-galore. My brother and I were always ready with our snacks when we watched our Saturday morning habit.

The Great Space Coaster. John Blackstar. Fraggle Rock. The Fonz. Thundercats. Space Ghost. Superfriends. My memory just fails me now, but that list is certainly a long one.

Question: Who were the superheroes who were always taumbahay at the Justice League Headquarters when the rest of the Superfriends go out to fight the gang of Lex Luthor?

Trust me, an 80's kid like me would definitely know the answer to that question.

Market! Market!

When I was still a kid of about seven or eight, I loved going with my Mom to the market on early Saturday mornings. I'm talking about the Pasig wet market here, or the palengke as we know it. I can even remember her budget then. I believe it was only about 300 pesos for our whole week's supply of food.

Why did I love to tag along with her? Honestly, I can't remember now. Maybe it was because I wanted to make sure she buys my favorite chichirya which me and my brother would gobble up as we watch the Saturday Fun Machine on our TV when I got home.

Or maybe I enjoyed having breakfast in one of the carinderias on the 2nd floor of the market. I still remember it vividly. The sweaty crowd, the obnoxious smell, the vocal noise, and yes, all those swarms of flies buzzing around me and my food. Nothing like a breakfast of smoking-hot lugaw in the palengke. I'm cringing at the memories now, iiwwwww!!!

Fast-forward to the present -- long after I have outgrown that weird Saturday habit and now prefer to extend my sleep on Saturday mornings. And forward to the times when my Mom's 300-peso weekly budget would just be a one-day baon of one student.

When I got married, I discovered that my wife also has a weird infatuation with palengkes. We live in a place where there is a nearby talipapa (smaller version of a palengke) in one of the villages across the main road. Early on in our marriage, my wife loved bringing along our maid (sometimes me when we didn't have a maid) with her to the talipapa to buy the food which she would cook.

At first I dismissed this behavior as just trying to be a show off. Hey, we just got married and maybe she just wanted to impress me that she can be the master of everything concerning the kitchen. Pasikat, huh! But then, as time went on, I discovered that it wasn't. She confessed to me that she really had an engrossed fascination with the palengke. She loves going there and buying all sorts of stuff she needs in cooking. She loves the wide variety of things she can buy at prices which would sometimes make grocery-shopping be considered financial harakiri for your family budget.

I discovered that she got it from her Mom. My mom-in-law also loves going to the palengke whenever she gets the chance. And I go, "Ahhh, so that's the reason why we always stop over palengkes whenever we go out on a trip." Hey, my mom-in-law cooks good food so who's complaining? And thank God my wife got it after her Mom.

So, one day I told my palengke-fascinated wife that I should bring her over to the Pasig Market - the palengke where my mom used to bring me along on Saturdays. I thought that she would enjoy it there. More options of vendors, a wider variety of food stalls, and even cheaper items.

I described the place to her. A building of 3 floors with sections categorized like that of a grocery. One floor for the wet stuff like meat and fish. Another floor for vegetables and some other dry food items. And there's even another floor for clothes and some school stuff.

My wife considered my offer. She thought about it hard. And I was surprised by her response.

No, she didn't want me to bring her to the Pasig Mega-palengke. Not yet. The reason? The place may just be too much for her that she may be overwhelmed.

Just like any big event in anyone's life, my wife shall tell me when the time comes. She'll tell me when she is emotionally ready to conquer the Pasig palengke.

Ayala Rally

The biggest anti-GMA rally was held at the heart of the country's financial district. It was supposed to be the Makati version of the EDSA People Power that toppled Marcos in 1986 and Erap in 2001.

But this version obviously did not have the wide support of the middle class. Even if it was held in Ayala, the yuppies of Makati that were interviewed on TV found more concern on the traffic mess the rally caused.

Also, there was not much support from the students. Could it be that it's because classes are just starting and students are still afraid to cut classes? Yeah, right.

Or maybe, the rally organizers just failed to communicate properly with their target audience.

Take the campaign slogan posted on stage as an example.

PAGBABAGO
NGAYON NA!

Now, if you were targetting the Makati yuppies and the colegialas from the different schools, maybe you should consider editing that slogan a little bit.

How about this?

PAGBABAGO
NOW NA!
AS IN...

B Republic

I am disappointed.

I am disappointed coz Ateneo lost.

I am disappointed coz Ateneo lost to La Salle.

I am disappointed coz Ateneo lost to La Salle by a wide margin.

I am disappointed coz Ateneo lost to La Salle by a wide margin when I watched the ballgame live.

I am disappointed coz Ateneo lost to La Salle by a wide margin when I watched the ballgame live and I had to move heaven and earth just to get those precious tickets.

It doesn't need any of the glamorous advertisements just to promote the game. If your blood bleeds either blue or green, you should know it. You should know it is about to happen just like you were a member of the secret society.

Even before tickets get released, you let your secret connections go to work to snatch for you that one precious ticket.

Those tickets become so valuable as gameday nears that if they were traded as stocks in the PSE, they would be enough to lift our pathetic markets into record territories. Surpass the Dow 10,000 even.

As I walk up the stairs leading to the Upper Box sections of the coliseum, the all too familiar drumbeats greet me. Music to my ears.

The mammoth crowd inside the Araneta roars as the basketball game starts. The fans practically fill it up to the rafters. A sea of blue and green equally divided in the middle. For about two hours, it's all about basketball and cheering your hearts out for your team. Nothing else exists.

And what was it that was our main concern just two days ago?

Oh yeah, a president on the brink of ouster from her office.

We are a B Republic.

Banana Republic or Basketball Republic.

Your choice.

Wonder Boy

The call for GMA to step down has snowballed over the past few days. Parties from both the left and right have proposed their own solutions to the crisis our nation is facing. And amidst all of these political fanfare, some Filipinos are just wondering when will all this madness stop.

Watching the news as the tense situation unfolds, many groups take their causes to the streets. Students marching down the streets of Manila. Workers holding their assembly at the business capital of the Philippines. A prayer rally by one of the religious leaders who lost in the past presidential elections. And motorcades circling Metro Manila to encourage the people to go out to the streets.

One news segment on the ongoing motorcade caught my attention. As the rallyists distribute pamphlets and practically litter the streets with anti-GMA materials, those inside the vehicles shout "Gloria Resign!".

The news reporter interviews people from one of the vehicles. What do they want to happen? How do they propose to resolve this crisis?

A kid inside one of the vehicle angrily shouts his opinion.

"GMA should resign! She is not the one who won the elections! FPJ won the presidency! She just stole it from him! Blah, blah, blah!", the boy emotionally shouts with a cracking voice. The sound of a pre-adolescent whose hormones must be overflowing and whose emotions run high in the midst of this political chaos. His blabber doesn't make much sense. In fact, there is an irritating tone in his voice which one could point to arrogance.

I begin to wonder. Are kids these days really this immersed in our country's political situation? Hey, this may be a good sign after all. We used to accuse the youth of being apolitical about things affecting their future. But right now, we have this young kid, taking it to the streets, joining the motorcade, shouting his lungs out, caring about what the future this country would bring to him. You can even feel the emotions and hear the hurt he is feeling inside with everything that has happened to our nation.

Hmmmm...

Wait.

That boy in the motorcade looks familiar. That kid shouting invectives about GMA. I think I've seen him before. Yup, that kid is a familiar fixture during the FPJ campaign during the last elections. That kid who is so involved in this political rally.

That kid is not a kid after all!

It's none other than...

...Niño Muhlach.

Nyahahahahaha!

After all these years, the Wonder Boy of Philippine cinema still manages to make me laugh.

Nips Jingle

You know this jingle. And I know you can sing it, too. C'mon, hum with me at least.

You wanna see what happens
In a bag of Nips
What goes on
Before they touch my lips

They make a rainbow
(Chocolate Nips)
A choco rainbow
(Chocolate Nips)

And then they color all the flowers
And they paint the trees
They're sweet and delicious
Look at all those bees

When I want fun
I get a bag of Nips
And make a rainbow
Nips... Nips...