Karlo and I surveyed the room to look for our friend, Danny. We couldn't find him on the dance floor. Not even in the dark corners of the room where he might be secretly checking out the babes just like what we were doing a while back.
We decided to look for him outside. He might be in the open area having his yosi break. And we were correct. He was there, together with our other smoker-friends.
"Can I have one stick?" Karlo asked Danny.
"One stick of what?" said Danny as he upwardly blew smoke like the veteran smoker that he is.
"Yosi," Karlo tried to say as naturally as possible.
"You don't smoke. What are you gonna do with it?" inquired Danny as he took another puff.
"We just wanna try it." I butted in, trying to back up Karlo.
"Hahaha! You, too?" Danny shook his head, smiling, as if there was something hilarious with what we told him.
Karlo and I were just in our early teens. Danny was a year or two older. But in terms of vices, Karlo and I were practically virgins as compared to the likes of Danny. We didn't drink, didn't smoke, didn't do anything stupid to merit a grounding sentence from our parents. And tonight was gonna be one bold step towards the rebellious direction.
"If your Moms know about this...." warned Danny, not finishing his sentence, as he reached for his cigarette pack from his pocket.
"Don't worry, dude. Nobody here would tell on us." We assured Danny.
"Here. Just share with one stick." said Danny as he handed out one Marlboro stick to Karlo.
Karlo got the cigarette from Danny's hand and placed it straight into his mouth.
"Pasindi na rin," he added.
Danny took a long puff before handing it to Karlo who immediately lit up our cigarette stick.
"Thanks, dude," we said to Danny as we took off.
Karlo and I looked for the perfect spot where we could savor our first taste of nicotine-in-a-stick. This was gonna be a cool initiation for us but we wanted to make sure we don't make a fool of ourselves by coughing our lungs out by inhaling smoke. That would be uncool. Just like that girl who banged her head by the glass wall earlier.
When we found the perfect spot, Karlo took another puff before handing the stick to me. As I got it from Karlo, I made sure that I positioned it correctly in between my fingers. I didn't wanna act awkwardly about this but I sure felt uneasy with what I was doing.
Oh hell, just do it.
And I took my first puff of cigarette smoke.
As I blew out the smoke, I also blew away the thrill of the unforbidden. I exhaled the coolness of being a rebel without a cause. And I finally let out the pressures of doing what the other kids my age were trying out.
The cigarette stick exchanged hands between me and Karlo a few more times. And before we could finish that one whole stick of Marlboro, I decided to stop.
"Ayoko na. You can finish it if you want," I told Karlo.
Karlo dropped the cigarrette on the floor and stepped on it with his shoe. Just as we see the smokers do to their cigarette embers.
"Ayoko na rin. Pwe!" said Karlo, now wondering what all those smokers get to like with smoking.
"I know. Tastes awful," I added as I licked my lips, hoping to brush away the after-taste of Marlboro.
The after-taste did go away after a while. And together with it was the curiosity which led us into trying it out in the first place. And how glad we were that we didn't really enjoy smoking. So that first taste of nicotine for us, also became the last puff of cigarette for our lifetime. I'm pretty positive about it.
So, how about trying juts next week?
Tuesday, August 30, 2005
Monday, August 29, 2005
Grand Entrance To A Party
"Pare, aren't we a bit too early?" asks Karlo while re-aligning the misplaced strands of hair from his gelled up do in front of the restroom's mirror.
"Ok lang yan, pre. In a few minutes people will start coming in. After all, this party would end promptly by 12 midnight. And it's already 9:40PM. I don't think people would waste that much time just to be fashionably late," I told him while I fixed the bottom of my baston jeans I just bought the previous week at Greenhills.
"Oo nga. And sometimes they do extend it until 1AM if the party's still bitin by midnight. Nobody wants to go home early especially when Jon Tupas is handling the decks," pronounces Karlo referring to our favorite mobile DJ.
As we emerge from the restroom, we guessed it right. The dancefloor was starting to get filled with people who seemed to do a synchronized bouncing as they perform the new wave dance step. Arms flailing like a conductor directing his orchestra. One leg rising as the other leg bends lower and lower, grinding to the beat of pounding 80's music.
These teen-agers come from all over the Metro to party in this Green Valley Clubhouse. Last week, we were at the Corinthian Gardens Clubhouse. Next week, maybe Valle Verde's. There are no bars or discos yet in Metro Manila. At least, not the types where teen-agers would hang out and party the night away. But these organized parties held at the various clubhouses of the exclusive villages are the in places to go to during the weekends. This is the time when the word gimik still has a different negative connotation attached to it. Before it was coined to refer to this type of nocturnal activity.
"Check out that hot chick about to enter the place. The one wearing all black," informs Karlo.
"Yup, nice. Pretty in that Madonna-like outfit of hers," I concur as we both observe people arriving at the party through the glass walls of the room.
All of a sudden, BLAG!
Karlo and I dropped our jaws with what we saw. The girl that we were just talking about a few seconds ago just hit the glass partition of the room. She literally slammed into the glass wall, head-first. She didn't notice the glass.
"Shit!" was all we could say in chorus. And we're pretty sure that it was also the first word that came out of the girl's mouth after "Ouch!" or "Aray!"
Normally, we would have erupted into a laughter with what we saw. But given that it was a pretty girl who was visibly shaken by her 'banging entrance' into the party, we felt sorry for her. Her forehead and nose even left their marks by the glass wall she slammed into. Poor girl.
"Wanna smoke?" asks Karlo, shaking his head. What we just witnessed could have been lifted straight from a slapstick scene from a Pinoy sit-com of Dolphy and Panchito.
"Yeah, this may be a good time to have a smoke." I said as I took a last look at the girl now being attended to by her concerned friends.
Talk about announcing your entry into a party.
"Ok lang yan, pre. In a few minutes people will start coming in. After all, this party would end promptly by 12 midnight. And it's already 9:40PM. I don't think people would waste that much time just to be fashionably late," I told him while I fixed the bottom of my baston jeans I just bought the previous week at Greenhills.
"Oo nga. And sometimes they do extend it until 1AM if the party's still bitin by midnight. Nobody wants to go home early especially when Jon Tupas is handling the decks," pronounces Karlo referring to our favorite mobile DJ.
As we emerge from the restroom, we guessed it right. The dancefloor was starting to get filled with people who seemed to do a synchronized bouncing as they perform the new wave dance step. Arms flailing like a conductor directing his orchestra. One leg rising as the other leg bends lower and lower, grinding to the beat of pounding 80's music.
These teen-agers come from all over the Metro to party in this Green Valley Clubhouse. Last week, we were at the Corinthian Gardens Clubhouse. Next week, maybe Valle Verde's. There are no bars or discos yet in Metro Manila. At least, not the types where teen-agers would hang out and party the night away. But these organized parties held at the various clubhouses of the exclusive villages are the in places to go to during the weekends. This is the time when the word gimik still has a different negative connotation attached to it. Before it was coined to refer to this type of nocturnal activity.
So won't you tell meThe beat of Naked Eyes' music fades out to the fourth bar intro of Depeche Mode's Everything Counts. This is it, those seamless transitions. The mix is getting hotter, and the party is definitely moving up a notch higher.
What I can do
What I can say
How can you leave
When I want you to stay?
Tell me...
"Check out that hot chick about to enter the place. The one wearing all black," informs Karlo.
"Yup, nice. Pretty in that Madonna-like outfit of hers," I concur as we both observe people arriving at the party through the glass walls of the room.
All of a sudden, BLAG!
Karlo and I dropped our jaws with what we saw. The girl that we were just talking about a few seconds ago just hit the glass partition of the room. She literally slammed into the glass wall, head-first. She didn't notice the glass.
"Shit!" was all we could say in chorus. And we're pretty sure that it was also the first word that came out of the girl's mouth after "Ouch!" or "Aray!"
Normally, we would have erupted into a laughter with what we saw. But given that it was a pretty girl who was visibly shaken by her 'banging entrance' into the party, we felt sorry for her. Her forehead and nose even left their marks by the glass wall she slammed into. Poor girl.
"Wanna smoke?" asks Karlo, shaking his head. What we just witnessed could have been lifted straight from a slapstick scene from a Pinoy sit-com of Dolphy and Panchito.
"Yeah, this may be a good time to have a smoke." I said as I took a last look at the girl now being attended to by her concerned friends.
Talk about announcing your entry into a party.
Sunday, August 28, 2005
Live Vs. TV
My Top Ten Reasons why watching the UAAP game live yesterday with my wife is a lot better than watching it on TV:
10. Watch the coliseum fill up with people, mindless of the first game going on in the hardcourt.
9. Enjoy the slam dunking exhibition of JC, Japeth and Rabeh during the pre-game warm-ups.
8. Play spot-the-celebrities-in-the-crowd.
7. Boo the refs and shout invectives for every bad call they make.
6. Shout my voice hoarse for every slamdunk and shotblock Japeth and JC make.
5. Throw a punch in the air for every three-pointer LA and Jai connect.
4. Do the bounce while shouting the 'Go 'Teneo' cheer for every rally the Blue Eagles mount.
3. Enjoy the half-time antics and crowd reactions during time-outs which are not usually caught on cam.
2. Sing my Alma Mater song together with my blue-blooded brothers as we savor a very hard-earned win by our team.
And the #1 reason why watching the game live yesterday was a lot better than watching it on TV...
(drumroll)
My wife broke her jinx of the Ateneo losing whenever she watches the game live.
10. Watch the coliseum fill up with people, mindless of the first game going on in the hardcourt.
9. Enjoy the slam dunking exhibition of JC, Japeth and Rabeh during the pre-game warm-ups.
8. Play spot-the-celebrities-in-the-crowd.
7. Boo the refs and shout invectives for every bad call they make.
6. Shout my voice hoarse for every slamdunk and shotblock Japeth and JC make.
5. Throw a punch in the air for every three-pointer LA and Jai connect.
4. Do the bounce while shouting the 'Go 'Teneo' cheer for every rally the Blue Eagles mount.
3. Enjoy the half-time antics and crowd reactions during time-outs which are not usually caught on cam.
2. Sing my Alma Mater song together with my blue-blooded brothers as we savor a very hard-earned win by our team.
And the #1 reason why watching the game live yesterday was a lot better than watching it on TV...
(drumroll)
My wife broke her jinx of the Ateneo losing whenever she watches the game live.
Saturday, August 27, 2005
Blasphemous Rumors II
My previous post mentioned about Blas being the caretaker of a certain house here in our village. Now, that house has had a notorious reputation of being a haunted one. That may be one of the reasons why it is vacant most of the time. Very few renters are brave enough to risk knowing if the tales were true.
Various ghost stories have been circulating about the house since we were still young, most of them unconfirmed. Eerie noises, weird sightings and strange coincidences of bad luck become the theme of most of these anecdotes. Some wave them off as our village's version of urban legends. But a recent story relayed by someone who previously didn't know anything about the house intrigues us all the more.
One fine weekday morning, Aling Nena, the village's street sweeper provided by the city government, goes by her daily task of cleaning the streets in our relatively small village. Most of the homeowners may have already gone to work by this time. Streets are practically deserted except for the occasional people going to the nearest sari-sari store to buy some stuff.
An old car stops by near Aling Nena as she was sweeping some leaves off the street gutter. An old couple, probably in their sixties, greets her.
"Magandang umaga ho. Pwede ho bang magtanong?" asks the old lady by the passenger side.
Aling Nena stops what she was doing and tries to extend assistance to the old couple who were obviously not from this village. "Oho, ano ho ba yon?"
"Meron ba kayong alam ditong bahay na pinaparentahan?" the old lady asks.
Aling Nena has been assigned to this village for quite a few months now that she notices all those "for rent" signs in all the vacant rental houses in our place.
"Meron ho dyan sa kabilang kalye. Bagong tayo lang ho kasi yung apartment. Subukan nyo ho doon," Aling Nena informs them.
"Eh dito sa street na 'to? Wala ba dito?" asks the old man on the driver's seat, presumably the husband.
"Wala ho yata dito," Aling Nena answers after thinking it through.
"Di ho ba meron dun sa bandang dulo? Doon sa may tapat ng basketball court?" says the old lady.
Aling Nena was kinda confused. First, she tries to recall if there was indeed a house for rent along this street as described by the old lady. And second, why would this old couple ask her if they already knew about the house? Weird.
"Di ko lang ho sigurado. Subukan nyo ho daanan, baka di ko nga lang ho napapansin," replies Aling Nena.
"Meron! Bakit hindi mo alam? Doon yun sa bandang dulo," the old lady pronounces in an irritated voice as she rolls up her window, motioning to her husband to move on.
As the car leaves Aling Nena, she just shakes her head. Weird people.
She decides to continue on the task of cleaning off the leaves from the gutter. What's wrong with these people? You try to help them and this is what you get.
She gives the speeding car another look as the vehicle reaches near the spot where the couple said was the house for rent, just across the basketball court.
And right in front of her very eyes, the car vanishes into thin air.
Holy shit! What just happened? Am I hallucinating? WTF?!
Aling Nena perturbedly continued on with her job. All the while, the image of the car disappearing instantly keeps replaying in her mind.
And when she reached the spot where she saw the car vanish, she took a look at the house to her right. It was that vacant house which didn't have any renters for the longest time.
She asked around about the story of that house while she told them about her strange experience that morning. And she was shocked by what she was told.
When she described the appearances of the old couple who asked her for help, she was told that the description certainly fits the owners of that house.
Aling Nena has never seen them before that's why she wouldn't know. And even if she knew their faces, all the more she would be terrified. Because as she was told by the people in the neighborhood, that couple whom she was talking to that morning have long been dead.
Now, if you were Chito, my friend whom I told you about in my previous entry, which would you prefer? That you were carried inside the house by its gay caretaker? Or that you were lifted into their home by the spirits of the old couple?
Shivers.
Various ghost stories have been circulating about the house since we were still young, most of them unconfirmed. Eerie noises, weird sightings and strange coincidences of bad luck become the theme of most of these anecdotes. Some wave them off as our village's version of urban legends. But a recent story relayed by someone who previously didn't know anything about the house intrigues us all the more.
One fine weekday morning, Aling Nena, the village's street sweeper provided by the city government, goes by her daily task of cleaning the streets in our relatively small village. Most of the homeowners may have already gone to work by this time. Streets are practically deserted except for the occasional people going to the nearest sari-sari store to buy some stuff.
An old car stops by near Aling Nena as she was sweeping some leaves off the street gutter. An old couple, probably in their sixties, greets her.
"Magandang umaga ho. Pwede ho bang magtanong?" asks the old lady by the passenger side.
Aling Nena stops what she was doing and tries to extend assistance to the old couple who were obviously not from this village. "Oho, ano ho ba yon?"
"Meron ba kayong alam ditong bahay na pinaparentahan?" the old lady asks.
Aling Nena has been assigned to this village for quite a few months now that she notices all those "for rent" signs in all the vacant rental houses in our place.
"Meron ho dyan sa kabilang kalye. Bagong tayo lang ho kasi yung apartment. Subukan nyo ho doon," Aling Nena informs them.
"Eh dito sa street na 'to? Wala ba dito?" asks the old man on the driver's seat, presumably the husband.
"Wala ho yata dito," Aling Nena answers after thinking it through.
"Di ho ba meron dun sa bandang dulo? Doon sa may tapat ng basketball court?" says the old lady.
Aling Nena was kinda confused. First, she tries to recall if there was indeed a house for rent along this street as described by the old lady. And second, why would this old couple ask her if they already knew about the house? Weird.
"Di ko lang ho sigurado. Subukan nyo ho daanan, baka di ko nga lang ho napapansin," replies Aling Nena.
"Meron! Bakit hindi mo alam? Doon yun sa bandang dulo," the old lady pronounces in an irritated voice as she rolls up her window, motioning to her husband to move on.
As the car leaves Aling Nena, she just shakes her head. Weird people.
She decides to continue on the task of cleaning off the leaves from the gutter. What's wrong with these people? You try to help them and this is what you get.
She gives the speeding car another look as the vehicle reaches near the spot where the couple said was the house for rent, just across the basketball court.
And right in front of her very eyes, the car vanishes into thin air.
Holy shit! What just happened? Am I hallucinating? WTF?!
Aling Nena perturbedly continued on with her job. All the while, the image of the car disappearing instantly keeps replaying in her mind.
And when she reached the spot where she saw the car vanish, she took a look at the house to her right. It was that vacant house which didn't have any renters for the longest time.
She asked around about the story of that house while she told them about her strange experience that morning. And she was shocked by what she was told.
When she described the appearances of the old couple who asked her for help, she was told that the description certainly fits the owners of that house.
Aling Nena has never seen them before that's why she wouldn't know. And even if she knew their faces, all the more she would be terrified. Because as she was told by the people in the neighborhood, that couple whom she was talking to that morning have long been dead.
Now, if you were Chito, my friend whom I told you about in my previous entry, which would you prefer? That you were carried inside the house by its gay caretaker? Or that you were lifted into their home by the spirits of the old couple?
Shivers.
Thursday, August 25, 2005
Blas-phemous Rumors
"You guys left me at the back of the pick-up truck?" Chito asked.
"Oo pare, we couldn't wake you up eh. Alangan namang isampay ka na naman namin sa gate ninyo gaya nung dati. That's why we decided to leave you there to sleep," Karlo answered him.
"But I woke up inside the house of Blas?" Chito said trying to recall the events of the previous weekend when we drank oursleves senseless up in the mountains of Antipolo.
I slept at Karlo's place that night since I didn't wanna go home that drunk. And Blas was our gay friend who was also the caretaker of the house where I parked my vehicle at that night.
"Yup, I saw you sleeping inside the house when I went there to get my car," I told Chito.
"Weird... I don't recall waking up from my sleep at the back of your pick-up and entering the house to continue my sleep there," Chito said, a bit confused. "Ahh, I was too wasted to remember, tol," he added.
Karlo and I looked at each other. Dirty minds add up these things pretty quickly. One drunk friend, plus one gay guy, plus memory gaps equals high probability that bad, bad things had happened.
And as if on cue, Karlo and I erupted into a laughter.
"You sure that's the only thing you don't remember, pre?" Karlo asked Chito.
I quickly added, "You know what, when I went there to get my pick-up, Blas was already up. Seemed very happy that morning. He was smoking in the garden when I saw him, talking to his plants."
"Hmmm... Blas was smoking? Katatapos lang siguro," Karlo smiled naughtily.
I couldn't help but laugh.
Chito got the joke. "Taena nyo tol! Walang ganyanan. Nothing happened. I was wasted but not that wasted."
"We're not saying anything here. Even you are wondering why you woke up inside the house, don't you?" I said.
"Oo tol. But I was probably just too drunk to remember myself going inside the house," Chito justified.
"Yeah, probably," Karlo and I chorused with smart-ass smiles in our faces. Then we erupted into another laughing fit.
We shall never know if anything improper did happen that night. But the rumor is still alive in our barkada after more than 10 years since that hazy and crazy Saturday night.
"Oo pare, we couldn't wake you up eh. Alangan namang isampay ka na naman namin sa gate ninyo gaya nung dati. That's why we decided to leave you there to sleep," Karlo answered him.
"But I woke up inside the house of Blas?" Chito said trying to recall the events of the previous weekend when we drank oursleves senseless up in the mountains of Antipolo.
I slept at Karlo's place that night since I didn't wanna go home that drunk. And Blas was our gay friend who was also the caretaker of the house where I parked my vehicle at that night.
"Yup, I saw you sleeping inside the house when I went there to get my car," I told Chito.
"Weird... I don't recall waking up from my sleep at the back of your pick-up and entering the house to continue my sleep there," Chito said, a bit confused. "Ahh, I was too wasted to remember, tol," he added.
Karlo and I looked at each other. Dirty minds add up these things pretty quickly. One drunk friend, plus one gay guy, plus memory gaps equals high probability that bad, bad things had happened.
And as if on cue, Karlo and I erupted into a laughter.
"You sure that's the only thing you don't remember, pre?" Karlo asked Chito.
I quickly added, "You know what, when I went there to get my pick-up, Blas was already up. Seemed very happy that morning. He was smoking in the garden when I saw him, talking to his plants."
"Hmmm... Blas was smoking? Katatapos lang siguro," Karlo smiled naughtily.
I couldn't help but laugh.
Chito got the joke. "Taena nyo tol! Walang ganyanan. Nothing happened. I was wasted but not that wasted."
"We're not saying anything here. Even you are wondering why you woke up inside the house, don't you?" I said.
"Oo tol. But I was probably just too drunk to remember myself going inside the house," Chito justified.
"Yeah, probably," Karlo and I chorused with smart-ass smiles in our faces. Then we erupted into another laughing fit.
We shall never know if anything improper did happen that night. But the rumor is still alive in our barkada after more than 10 years since that hazy and crazy Saturday night.
Tuesday, August 23, 2005
Jologs Cellphone
"Why don't you buy a new cellphone?" the wife suggests.
"What's wrong with my present cellphone?" her husband asks, waving off the suggestion.
"It's jologs. That's what's wrong with it," wife mocks hubby.
"Hey, hey, hey! Feature per feature, your cellphone is even more jologs than mine. It just so happened that I got this cellphone at a lot cheaper price than yours. Yours can't even play true tones or mp3's. It only has polyphonic ring tunes. It's just a clamshell phone; that's why it somehow looks more fashionable."
"I'm upgrading my cellphone pretty soon," wife proudly says.
"Good for you. Now, leave my cellphone alone," hoping the argument ends.
"Kakahiya naman yang phone mo. Other people might say you can't even afford to buy a new one."
"Well, I don't really care. And besides, it's true that I can't afford to buy the cellphone that I really, really want... yet!" It's some sort of an excuse the husband uses to delay buying a new phone.
"Dream on. You might never be able to buy that 9500 you've been drooling over for the past few months. Why don't you settle for a lesser cellphone? You know that it is nearly impossible for you to buy that with your current income."
"It is the only cellphone which satisfies the extra feature that I really want. And that is wi-fi connectivity." True, which makes his excuse valid.
"What's that? Wi-fi?" wife asks.
"It's the thing that makes it possible for you to use my laptop inside our house to surf the net without using any cables."
"Ahh.. you mean not all laptops can do that?"
"Sus." Husband rolls his eyes over. "And who's jologs now with that wi-fi set up? How many people here in the Philippines do you know have a wireless set up for their DSL connection in their homes?"
"So that's what that cheap home-made satellite dish, or whatever you call it, is for?"
"That's a parabolic antenna, my dear," explains the husband. "And I just saved you two thousand bucks coz I was resourceful enough to research that on the net, and make one myself."
"Yeah, yeah, whatever! Jologs pa rin cellphone mo!" Sort of a rebuttal from the wife.
"Well, it's not your problem anymore," husband answers, getting irritated now.
"Why don't you buy a new cellphone with a much nicer mp3 player, or the one with a higher resolution camera?" wife insists again.
"If I wanted to listen to music, I would listen to my MiniDisc player. I know that it's not a very common format here in the Philippines. But the sound quality I get from it, and the convenience of recording my mixes fit my unique needs as a DJ. And on the photo-capturing aspect, I am still saving up for that DSLR that you know would be a lifetime investment for me. I'd rather use a real digital camera than use my cellphone when capturing those Kodak moments."
"Cheapskate jologs!" wife mumbles under her breath.
It becomes pointless to pursue the argument at this stage. So, husband just keeps quiet.
The above dialogue really happened. Names have been withheld to protect the well-being of the husband.
"What's wrong with my present cellphone?" her husband asks, waving off the suggestion.
"It's jologs. That's what's wrong with it," wife mocks hubby.
"Hey, hey, hey! Feature per feature, your cellphone is even more jologs than mine. It just so happened that I got this cellphone at a lot cheaper price than yours. Yours can't even play true tones or mp3's. It only has polyphonic ring tunes. It's just a clamshell phone; that's why it somehow looks more fashionable."
"I'm upgrading my cellphone pretty soon," wife proudly says.
"Good for you. Now, leave my cellphone alone," hoping the argument ends.
"Kakahiya naman yang phone mo. Other people might say you can't even afford to buy a new one."
"Well, I don't really care. And besides, it's true that I can't afford to buy the cellphone that I really, really want... yet!" It's some sort of an excuse the husband uses to delay buying a new phone.
"Dream on. You might never be able to buy that 9500 you've been drooling over for the past few months. Why don't you settle for a lesser cellphone? You know that it is nearly impossible for you to buy that with your current income."
"It is the only cellphone which satisfies the extra feature that I really want. And that is wi-fi connectivity." True, which makes his excuse valid.
"What's that? Wi-fi?" wife asks.
"It's the thing that makes it possible for you to use my laptop inside our house to surf the net without using any cables."
"Ahh.. you mean not all laptops can do that?"
"Sus." Husband rolls his eyes over. "And who's jologs now with that wi-fi set up? How many people here in the Philippines do you know have a wireless set up for their DSL connection in their homes?"
"So that's what that cheap home-made satellite dish, or whatever you call it, is for?"
"That's a parabolic antenna, my dear," explains the husband. "And I just saved you two thousand bucks coz I was resourceful enough to research that on the net, and make one myself."
"Yeah, yeah, whatever! Jologs pa rin cellphone mo!" Sort of a rebuttal from the wife.
"Well, it's not your problem anymore," husband answers, getting irritated now.
"Why don't you buy a new cellphone with a much nicer mp3 player, or the one with a higher resolution camera?" wife insists again.
"If I wanted to listen to music, I would listen to my MiniDisc player. I know that it's not a very common format here in the Philippines. But the sound quality I get from it, and the convenience of recording my mixes fit my unique needs as a DJ. And on the photo-capturing aspect, I am still saving up for that DSLR that you know would be a lifetime investment for me. I'd rather use a real digital camera than use my cellphone when capturing those Kodak moments."
"Cheapskate jologs!" wife mumbles under her breath.
It becomes pointless to pursue the argument at this stage. So, husband just keeps quiet.
The above dialogue really happened. Names have been withheld to protect the well-being of the husband.
Monday, August 22, 2005
Pinoy Big Brother
The newest reality show on TV was recently launched. It is the Filipino version of the worldwide hit reality show Big Brother. And ours is aptly called Pinoy Big Brother.
For 100 days, 12 stranger shall live in one house. No means of communicating with the outside world. And everything that they do can be seen and heard by cameras and microphones set up all over the house. Throw away privacy. They are all like fish in an aquarium. Every movement is monitored.
I've watched the first episode tonight. It was the first night of the 12 housemates. As expected, everyone's trying to be nice with everybody. But you know that deep inside each one of them, they are observing. Silently assessing the personality of each contestant. After all, this is still a game. And in the end, the winner takes home 1 million pesos, a car, plus house and lot. This means dog-eat-dog in a world confined to the four corners of that aquarium-like house.
In a few days, I expect more excitement than watching those sexy lady contestants dress and undress using robes and towels as their covers. More drama than them discussing condoms and other birth control methods. The excitement would come in the form of personality clashes. Being stuck in one house with total strangers as your housemates can take its toll on any human. And it is just a matter of time when Mister Nice Guy turns into Mister Kupal and Miss Congeniality turns into Miss Bitch.
So, if I were a contestant there, what would I do if I were stuck in a house with 11 strangers for 100 days? No TV. No radio. No Internet. No newspaper.
Perfect blogging environment. Lots of interesting subjects and intriguing materials around me. Save everything I write and post them when I get out of that house.
For 100 days, 12 stranger shall live in one house. No means of communicating with the outside world. And everything that they do can be seen and heard by cameras and microphones set up all over the house. Throw away privacy. They are all like fish in an aquarium. Every movement is monitored.
I've watched the first episode tonight. It was the first night of the 12 housemates. As expected, everyone's trying to be nice with everybody. But you know that deep inside each one of them, they are observing. Silently assessing the personality of each contestant. After all, this is still a game. And in the end, the winner takes home 1 million pesos, a car, plus house and lot. This means dog-eat-dog in a world confined to the four corners of that aquarium-like house.
In a few days, I expect more excitement than watching those sexy lady contestants dress and undress using robes and towels as their covers. More drama than them discussing condoms and other birth control methods. The excitement would come in the form of personality clashes. Being stuck in one house with total strangers as your housemates can take its toll on any human. And it is just a matter of time when Mister Nice Guy turns into Mister Kupal and Miss Congeniality turns into Miss Bitch.
So, if I were a contestant there, what would I do if I were stuck in a house with 11 strangers for 100 days? No TV. No radio. No Internet. No newspaper.
Perfect blogging environment. Lots of interesting subjects and intriguing materials around me. Save everything I write and post them when I get out of that house.
Sunday, August 21, 2005
Lin-tech Support
"Anything I can do for you, sir?" PLDT's tech support person asks me over the phone.
"Yup, my DSL connection is down." I inform her.
"Since when, sir?"
"Since early this morning."
"May I know the status of your modem?"
I describe to her all those colored blinking lights that can be found in my modem. I've been through a number of these conversations before that I already know what to tell those so-called tech support when they ask this question.
I decide to take lead in trying to figure out what's wrong with my connection. "I just wanna know first if there is a scheduled service interruption in our area due to some repairs or maintenance."
She puts me on hold as she says she will try to verify.
After a few seconds, she comes back, "As far as I know, there is no scheduled maintenance, sir"
How far is it that she knows, anyway?
She tries asking me those series of questions again, "Have you checked you cable connections, sir? Tried re-booting your..."
I interrupt her, "Yeah, yeah, I've done all of those things before I called you. And I'm sure the problem isn't on my end."
"Okay, sir. I have logged in your concern. Another techincian will call you later. And we shall have our maintenance people check out your connection."
"Thank you." And I hung up.
I immediately had to run to the nearby mall to buy a few office supplies. And just as I pass by the guardhouse at our village gates, I see a PLDT service van parked as the servicemen are fixing something up there in the post.
Just as I figured, there's the reason why my DSL connection is down.
And just as I predicted, coming back home from the mall, I didn't see the PLDT service van anymore. And guess what? My DSL connection was already up and running when I tested it. Why wasn't I surprised?
Those tech support people should learn that their job is to help customers with their technical problems. And it is not just to babble away with a pre-set series of questions without any real concern for the root of the problem.
The name of the game is troubleshooting. And it requires critical thinking. An activity not so common nowadays.
Oh, and the technician the girl promised who would call me up to assess my problem? He did call me up... after five freakin' days. Lintek na klaseng support yan!
"Yup, my DSL connection is down." I inform her.
"Since when, sir?"
"Since early this morning."
"May I know the status of your modem?"
I describe to her all those colored blinking lights that can be found in my modem. I've been through a number of these conversations before that I already know what to tell those so-called tech support when they ask this question.
I decide to take lead in trying to figure out what's wrong with my connection. "I just wanna know first if there is a scheduled service interruption in our area due to some repairs or maintenance."
She puts me on hold as she says she will try to verify.
After a few seconds, she comes back, "As far as I know, there is no scheduled maintenance, sir"
How far is it that she knows, anyway?
She tries asking me those series of questions again, "Have you checked you cable connections, sir? Tried re-booting your..."
I interrupt her, "Yeah, yeah, I've done all of those things before I called you. And I'm sure the problem isn't on my end."
"Okay, sir. I have logged in your concern. Another techincian will call you later. And we shall have our maintenance people check out your connection."
"Thank you." And I hung up.
I immediately had to run to the nearby mall to buy a few office supplies. And just as I pass by the guardhouse at our village gates, I see a PLDT service van parked as the servicemen are fixing something up there in the post.
Just as I figured, there's the reason why my DSL connection is down.
And just as I predicted, coming back home from the mall, I didn't see the PLDT service van anymore. And guess what? My DSL connection was already up and running when I tested it. Why wasn't I surprised?
Those tech support people should learn that their job is to help customers with their technical problems. And it is not just to babble away with a pre-set series of questions without any real concern for the root of the problem.
The name of the game is troubleshooting. And it requires critical thinking. An activity not so common nowadays.
Oh, and the technician the girl promised who would call me up to assess my problem? He did call me up... after five freakin' days. Lintek na klaseng support yan!
Saturday, August 20, 2005
Rescuing Darna
I noticed yesterday that Darna, our pet arowana, had two red spots by the sides of her head. I'm not really sure what they were. Were they bruises or were they just really part of the Australian Arowana's scale coloration? I tried to remember if she already had them when we bought her last weekend from Cartimar. I couldn't recall.
And Darna just stayed in one corner. Not as lively as before when she would swim all around the aquarium.
In a moment of near panic, I called on my brother who knows more about fish health than I do. And he checked on Darna. He put rock salt into the aquarium and advised me to observe Darna's behavior. Replace 25% of the aquarium water and repeat the treatment of putting rock salt into the water. Darna may not have fully adjusted yet to her new environment, he says, thus stressing her out.
And so I checked on Darna from time to time. And I was appalled by what I observed. Some of the guppies we bought to be Darna's food were sometimes attacking Darna. They bit Darna by the side of her head.
So that's what has been causing the redness.
Like a father impulsively protecting his child, I grabbed the fish net catcher. I have identified Darna's attackers and ferociously hunted them down inside the aquarium. No, you cannot do that to my Darna. You bastards.
After catching them, I transferred them to an unused fishbowl I have. But before releasing them into the fishbowl, I thought of things I could do to get back at them for what they did to Darna. I could have easily killed them by not releasing them into the water. That would be like drowning them, not being able to breathe. Or I could get a needle and prick them by the side of their heads to let them feel what they have been doing to my pet. Or I could put them in a cooking pot filled with water and heat it up in the gas burner. That would be a taste of aquarium hell for them.
Hmmm... but those would be considered cruelty to animals. These tiny fish also have life. I cannot torture them like that.
So I decided that I would just leave them in the fishbowl. Let them stay there. Lucky if they get to survive. And once Darna is already grown up in a few months, I shall bring back these guppies back into Darna's aquarium and let her feast on them. That would be the perfect revenge.
Just like in any superhero story, Darna must take a beating from her enemies first. But in the end, the hero always wins.
And Darna just stayed in one corner. Not as lively as before when she would swim all around the aquarium.
In a moment of near panic, I called on my brother who knows more about fish health than I do. And he checked on Darna. He put rock salt into the aquarium and advised me to observe Darna's behavior. Replace 25% of the aquarium water and repeat the treatment of putting rock salt into the water. Darna may not have fully adjusted yet to her new environment, he says, thus stressing her out.
And so I checked on Darna from time to time. And I was appalled by what I observed. Some of the guppies we bought to be Darna's food were sometimes attacking Darna. They bit Darna by the side of her head.
So that's what has been causing the redness.
Like a father impulsively protecting his child, I grabbed the fish net catcher. I have identified Darna's attackers and ferociously hunted them down inside the aquarium. No, you cannot do that to my Darna. You bastards.
After catching them, I transferred them to an unused fishbowl I have. But before releasing them into the fishbowl, I thought of things I could do to get back at them for what they did to Darna. I could have easily killed them by not releasing them into the water. That would be like drowning them, not being able to breathe. Or I could get a needle and prick them by the side of their heads to let them feel what they have been doing to my pet. Or I could put them in a cooking pot filled with water and heat it up in the gas burner. That would be a taste of aquarium hell for them.
Hmmm... but those would be considered cruelty to animals. These tiny fish also have life. I cannot torture them like that.
So I decided that I would just leave them in the fishbowl. Let them stay there. Lucky if they get to survive. And once Darna is already grown up in a few months, I shall bring back these guppies back into Darna's aquarium and let her feast on them. That would be the perfect revenge.
Just like in any superhero story, Darna must take a beating from her enemies first. But in the end, the hero always wins.
Thursday, August 18, 2005
Devirginized
"I'm sorry Anna, I didn't know it's gonna be like this. It's not usually like this, I swear."
The girl, Anna, was close to tears. Almost trembling as she looks around her surroundings. She kept quiet. This is her first time to do it. And she trusted her friend to guide her through since her friend has already done it many times before.
Maybe she wanted to tell her friend, "You told me it wasn't such a big deal. But now, we're like stuck here with all these people. Iiwwww! And now you tell me you didn't know it was gonna be like this? I'm so like claustrophobic pa naman. You're so gonna get it from me once this is over."
All the while, my wife was observing the two of them. They somehow caught her attention from the start. Maybe it was the familiar Assumption uniform. Probably my wife immediately identified with them since once upon a time, she was like them too -- wide-eyed Assumptionistas culture-shocked when immersed in the real world.
The men also took notice. The two colegialas stood out like a sore thumb in this mix of people. Show your weakness and those testosterone-overdosed males will be ready to pounce on a prey like Anna. Anna's friend knows how this goes. And she would not leave Anna alone to do this.
My wife wanted to approach the girl named Anna who seemed very bothered. Very uneasy in this situation she has never experienced before. My wife wanted to console Anna and tell her, "Hija, this is really how it goes in the real world. Get out of your protective shell. There is more to life than socializing with your conyo friends back in San Lo."
But my wife knew Anna must make it on her own. This is her first time alright. But she must survive this to make it in this dog-eat-dog world in a few years.
As Anna gets off the Guadalupe station, her friend reminds her, "Text me, Anna ha, when you get home. I wanna make sure you got home safely."
My wife wonders how Anna assesses her obviously first time to take the MRT.
This is the night Anna got devirginized by the MRT rush hour madness.
The girl, Anna, was close to tears. Almost trembling as she looks around her surroundings. She kept quiet. This is her first time to do it. And she trusted her friend to guide her through since her friend has already done it many times before.
Maybe she wanted to tell her friend, "You told me it wasn't such a big deal. But now, we're like stuck here with all these people. Iiwwww! And now you tell me you didn't know it was gonna be like this? I'm so like claustrophobic pa naman. You're so gonna get it from me once this is over."
All the while, my wife was observing the two of them. They somehow caught her attention from the start. Maybe it was the familiar Assumption uniform. Probably my wife immediately identified with them since once upon a time, she was like them too -- wide-eyed Assumptionistas culture-shocked when immersed in the real world.
The men also took notice. The two colegialas stood out like a sore thumb in this mix of people. Show your weakness and those testosterone-overdosed males will be ready to pounce on a prey like Anna. Anna's friend knows how this goes. And she would not leave Anna alone to do this.
My wife wanted to approach the girl named Anna who seemed very bothered. Very uneasy in this situation she has never experienced before. My wife wanted to console Anna and tell her, "Hija, this is really how it goes in the real world. Get out of your protective shell. There is more to life than socializing with your conyo friends back in San Lo."
But my wife knew Anna must make it on her own. This is her first time alright. But she must survive this to make it in this dog-eat-dog world in a few years.
As Anna gets off the Guadalupe station, her friend reminds her, "Text me, Anna ha, when you get home. I wanna make sure you got home safely."
My wife wonders how Anna assesses her obviously first time to take the MRT.
This is the night Anna got devirginized by the MRT rush hour madness.
Tuesday, August 16, 2005
Driving Issues
Driving around Metro Manila can be extremely stressful. I believe that the gravity of its effect on your heart can be compared to having bulalo for lunch every day. Not really healthy.
Other effects may include broadening your cussing skills. You can now use words which refer to a certain part of the human anatomy, a pleasurable sexual activity, plus lots of creative adjectives and adverbs in one blurt-of-the-moment expletive. Not really good.
Sometimes, you just can't understand how some people on the road think, make decisions, or act. Makes you wanna ask them, "Kulang ba kayo sa iodized salt?"
Like those public utility vehicle drivers who stop at a dime as soon as they hear the words "Ma para!" to unload their passengers. Some don't even have the courtesy to maneuver to the right-most lane. And see those "no loading/unloading" signs? What part of it is hard to understand?
And those broken lines in the middle of the road, you're supposed to drive in between two of them, right? Can't the LTO stress that enough to those stupid taxi and FX drivers?
Oh and some pedestrians aren't faultless either. You know those overpasses? They were built for a purpose. No, those are not vertical barriers to prevent tall trucks from passing, dumdum. They were built so that pedestrians can be spared from getting run over by speeding vehicles and literally spilling their guts out. I would understand that some overpasses are dangerous especially in the middle of the night when you cannot really tell if you are going to come out of the other side of the pass alive. But in broad daylight, why can't people use them? There should be a law stating that if a person crossing a street gets hit by a vehicle, and the spot where he gets hit is less than 50 meters from a functioning overpass, then the driver should not be responsible for the accident.
Sometimes I envy my wife who doesn't know how to drive. At least, she doesn't go through the stress drivers are experiencing.
And while most people's ambition is to save enough money so that they can buy a second-hand car at least, my wife's goal is kinda different. Earn enough money so that we can afford to hire and maintain our own family driver.
Smart, isn't she?
Other effects may include broadening your cussing skills. You can now use words which refer to a certain part of the human anatomy, a pleasurable sexual activity, plus lots of creative adjectives and adverbs in one blurt-of-the-moment expletive. Not really good.
Sometimes, you just can't understand how some people on the road think, make decisions, or act. Makes you wanna ask them, "Kulang ba kayo sa iodized salt?"
Like those public utility vehicle drivers who stop at a dime as soon as they hear the words "Ma para!" to unload their passengers. Some don't even have the courtesy to maneuver to the right-most lane. And see those "no loading/unloading" signs? What part of it is hard to understand?
And those broken lines in the middle of the road, you're supposed to drive in between two of them, right? Can't the LTO stress that enough to those stupid taxi and FX drivers?
Oh and some pedestrians aren't faultless either. You know those overpasses? They were built for a purpose. No, those are not vertical barriers to prevent tall trucks from passing, dumdum. They were built so that pedestrians can be spared from getting run over by speeding vehicles and literally spilling their guts out. I would understand that some overpasses are dangerous especially in the middle of the night when you cannot really tell if you are going to come out of the other side of the pass alive. But in broad daylight, why can't people use them? There should be a law stating that if a person crossing a street gets hit by a vehicle, and the spot where he gets hit is less than 50 meters from a functioning overpass, then the driver should not be responsible for the accident.
Sometimes I envy my wife who doesn't know how to drive. At least, she doesn't go through the stress drivers are experiencing.
And while most people's ambition is to save enough money so that they can buy a second-hand car at least, my wife's goal is kinda different. Earn enough money so that we can afford to hire and maintain our own family driver.
Smart, isn't she?
Monday, August 15, 2005
Something Fishy
Yesterday, we went to Cartimar, the Mecca of pet hobbyists, to buy our new pet.
We decided to get an Australian Gold Arowana. Why? Well, the Malaysian Silver is just too common while the Malaysian Gold is a bit too expensive. And I have researched that the Australian Gold is the most aggressive in the Arowana family. I'm just having a fish as a pet, right? Since my wife won't allow me to take care of dogs, might as well choose a gung ho arowana. Who knows, if it gets big enough, I might even be able to teach it to jump out of its aquarium and attack intruders who get into our house.
So I entered every shop in Cartimar selling Australian Gold Arowanas. I somehow got a taste of revenge on my wife who followed me into each store I visit. I wanted to say, "See, that's how it feels when I follow you to every shop in the mall only to find our way back to the very first one we visited just to be able to buy that accessory you're looking for." What goes around comes around.
So after a quick deliberation, we decided to buy the prettiest one we've seen at the price range we have initially set. We were satisfied and we were very excited.
We also decided to buy guppies as food for our newest pet. Enough of them just so they can have a decent house-warming party with our Arowana when they splash into that newly-set up aquarium.
On the way home, we decided that we should give our new pet a name. The name Elijah Collins came up again (see previous entry), but it didn't sound right to be a fish name. And after a thorough discussion, we decided to choose a name popular enough, but not commonly used as a fish name. The name connotes beauty, grace, strength, power and superiority.
We shall call our arowana "Darna".
And those guppies? They are Darna's nemesis for aquarium supremacy. But it doesn't fit that I call them the Giants (as in Darna and the Giants). So we shall just collectively call them as the Lilliputians.
A battle rages on in our aquarium. Darna vs the Lilliputians.
We decided to get an Australian Gold Arowana. Why? Well, the Malaysian Silver is just too common while the Malaysian Gold is a bit too expensive. And I have researched that the Australian Gold is the most aggressive in the Arowana family. I'm just having a fish as a pet, right? Since my wife won't allow me to take care of dogs, might as well choose a gung ho arowana. Who knows, if it gets big enough, I might even be able to teach it to jump out of its aquarium and attack intruders who get into our house.
So I entered every shop in Cartimar selling Australian Gold Arowanas. I somehow got a taste of revenge on my wife who followed me into each store I visit. I wanted to say, "See, that's how it feels when I follow you to every shop in the mall only to find our way back to the very first one we visited just to be able to buy that accessory you're looking for." What goes around comes around.
So after a quick deliberation, we decided to buy the prettiest one we've seen at the price range we have initially set. We were satisfied and we were very excited.
We also decided to buy guppies as food for our newest pet. Enough of them just so they can have a decent house-warming party with our Arowana when they splash into that newly-set up aquarium.
On the way home, we decided that we should give our new pet a name. The name Elijah Collins came up again (see previous entry), but it didn't sound right to be a fish name. And after a thorough discussion, we decided to choose a name popular enough, but not commonly used as a fish name. The name connotes beauty, grace, strength, power and superiority.
We shall call our arowana "Darna".
And those guppies? They are Darna's nemesis for aquarium supremacy. But it doesn't fit that I call them the Giants (as in Darna and the Giants). So we shall just collectively call them as the Lilliputians.
A battle rages on in our aquarium. Darna vs the Lilliputians.
Saturday, August 13, 2005
The 3-Second Challenge
My wife has a talent worthy of inclusion in the Guinness Book of World Records. Give her three seconds and she can immediately tell if there's something wrong with your outfit. And yes, I've proven it a thousand times. She is consistent.
You know those moments when you feel that the traffic gods are conspiring against you? Those moments when the stoplights turn into red just as you are about to cross the intersection? I hate those moments. But it is during those times when my wife sharpens her talent with those unsuspecting pedestrians.
I pity those people who cross the pedestrian lanes right in front of our car. They have absolutely no idea that just behind the windshields of the vehicle in front of them, they are being subjected to my wife's three-second test.
"Sister, that skirt only goes with the Bohemian look. You never use it as a formal skirt to be worn in the office." My wife mumbles as if the girl passing by could hear her.
Or when watching TV, sometimes she just needs a split-second to decide what that newscaster needs for a successful makeover.
"Tsk,tsk, tsk. Those big earrings don't go well with that necklace you're wearing. They make your face look too crowded. You should have just worn simple, diamond, stud earrings."
And it's not just limited to clothes, jewelry and accessories. Those actresses can deny all they want. But my wife can easily spot fake boobs, newly-lifted noses, freshly botoxed faces, and even those sculpted eyelids. All of these in three seconds or less.
Amazing.
The talent has actually rubbed off on me a little. I know now the proper mixing and matching of all my clothes. I never go out with my belt mismatched with my shoes. I also found out that wearing a monotonous color from head to toe isn't exactly fashionable. Even my eyeglasses were recently subjected to a fashion upgrade.
And the fake boobie thing? I can also consistently tell now. I don't even have to touch them. Promise.
You know those moments when you feel that the traffic gods are conspiring against you? Those moments when the stoplights turn into red just as you are about to cross the intersection? I hate those moments. But it is during those times when my wife sharpens her talent with those unsuspecting pedestrians.
I pity those people who cross the pedestrian lanes right in front of our car. They have absolutely no idea that just behind the windshields of the vehicle in front of them, they are being subjected to my wife's three-second test.
"Sister, that skirt only goes with the Bohemian look. You never use it as a formal skirt to be worn in the office." My wife mumbles as if the girl passing by could hear her.
Or when watching TV, sometimes she just needs a split-second to decide what that newscaster needs for a successful makeover.
"Tsk,tsk, tsk. Those big earrings don't go well with that necklace you're wearing. They make your face look too crowded. You should have just worn simple, diamond, stud earrings."
And it's not just limited to clothes, jewelry and accessories. Those actresses can deny all they want. But my wife can easily spot fake boobs, newly-lifted noses, freshly botoxed faces, and even those sculpted eyelids. All of these in three seconds or less.
Amazing.
The talent has actually rubbed off on me a little. I know now the proper mixing and matching of all my clothes. I never go out with my belt mismatched with my shoes. I also found out that wearing a monotonous color from head to toe isn't exactly fashionable. Even my eyeglasses were recently subjected to a fashion upgrade.
And the fake boobie thing? I can also consistently tell now. I don't even have to touch them. Promise.
Thursday, August 11, 2005
Pet Story
"Dogs?" I ask my wife.
"No!" she replies.
"Why? Maxene just gave birth." Maxene is my brother's bulldog. "We can ask for one of the puppies. It's not as if they're ugly. Those bulldogs are adorable. Very playful. And they belong to a champion line. What's your issue with dogs?" I ask again.
"They stink!" she exclaims.
"Mommy's maltese doesn't." I counter.
"But that dog is kupal. She still doesn't know me even if I've been a member of the family for more than three years now. She still barks at me whenever I go to Mommy's. And besides, even if the dog doesn't stink, its shit surely does." She has a point.
"Cats?"
"Same. Their shit stinks. And what's worse, the shit's odor lingers for a long time. Long after you've washed it off wherever it is they shit at."
"They cover their shit with sand."
"Do you see any sand in any part of our house?" Again, she has a point.
"Okay, how about birds?"
"Iiwwwww! I hate birds! I'm scared of birds. Those things look so scary like those..."
I interrupt her. "Careful with your words. Leave the mascot of my alma mater alone."
She sneers.
"Then I guess snakes and other reptiles are out of the question?" Half-asking.
The mean stare answers it.
"Okay, how about fish?"
She considers. "Only if the aquarium is big enough and it would fit with the interior of our house. Plus, make sure you choose a nice species of fish."
The above dialogue is a bargaining discussion I had with my wife on having pets in our house.
So right now, I'm in the process of setting up our aquarium. I'm not really a fish person. Not like my brother who can tell the common names with the corresponding scientific names of the fish they sell at their pet shop. But I guess that would have to do since my wife has many issues with pets.
For now, I am her only walking, crawling, stinking and shitting pet in this house.
"No!" she replies.
"Why? Maxene just gave birth." Maxene is my brother's bulldog. "We can ask for one of the puppies. It's not as if they're ugly. Those bulldogs are adorable. Very playful. And they belong to a champion line. What's your issue with dogs?" I ask again.
"They stink!" she exclaims.
"Mommy's maltese doesn't." I counter.
"But that dog is kupal. She still doesn't know me even if I've been a member of the family for more than three years now. She still barks at me whenever I go to Mommy's. And besides, even if the dog doesn't stink, its shit surely does." She has a point.
"Cats?"
"Same. Their shit stinks. And what's worse, the shit's odor lingers for a long time. Long after you've washed it off wherever it is they shit at."
"They cover their shit with sand."
"Do you see any sand in any part of our house?" Again, she has a point.
"Okay, how about birds?"
"Iiwwwww! I hate birds! I'm scared of birds. Those things look so scary like those..."
I interrupt her. "Careful with your words. Leave the mascot of my alma mater alone."
She sneers.
"Then I guess snakes and other reptiles are out of the question?" Half-asking.
The mean stare answers it.
"Okay, how about fish?"
She considers. "Only if the aquarium is big enough and it would fit with the interior of our house. Plus, make sure you choose a nice species of fish."
The above dialogue is a bargaining discussion I had with my wife on having pets in our house.
So right now, I'm in the process of setting up our aquarium. I'm not really a fish person. Not like my brother who can tell the common names with the corresponding scientific names of the fish they sell at their pet shop. But I guess that would have to do since my wife has many issues with pets.
For now, I am her only walking, crawling, stinking and shitting pet in this house.
Tuesday, August 09, 2005
Palusot Pa
Here's another bar scene anecdote that really happened not too long ago to someone I know. I think I may be missing up on witnessing funny bloopers like this one now that I am officially retired from the nocturnal habit.
Mike (not his real name, but he also uses it just the same) just went back to their table near the DJ's booth. He just finished gyrating to the sound of 50 Cent with this girl he just met on the dancefloor a while ago.
While waiting for the drinks they ordered to arrive, the two of them go through the let's-exchange-bio-data game. As they say, to know each other better.
"So, how old are you?" Mike asks.
"Twenty-three" she answers.
"Still studying?"
"Nope. I'm working for an investment house in Makati right now."
"Nice." He forgets what to ask next. The investment part kinda threw him off. He knows zilch about that subject.
"How about you? Are you still studying?" The girl's turn to ask questions.
"Yup, I'm taking up Accounting" Mike starts lying. And Accounting was the first course that came into his mind.
"Really? Which school?" she inquires.
"Ateneo." he says non-chalantly.
"De Manila?"
"Yup."
A confused look appears across the girl's face.
She wonders, "Funny, I graduated from the Ateneo and I don't recall them offering an Accounting degree."
Shit! How early to be caught in a lie. But Mike is unfazed. He shifts into higher gear on his bola mode.
"Huh? Why? When did you graduate?" Mike asks trying to be cool about it but the stutter gave him away.
"Umm, two years ago.
"I knew it. Ateneo just started offering the course last year. That's probably the reason why you didn't know about it." An escape answer he pulled out of thin air.
The girl lifts an eyebrow. This guy is incredible. Incredible in a bullshitty kind of way.
Their drinks arrive. The girl takes a sip of her vodka. And Mike takes three long gulps of his Colt45.
In a place as loud as this bar, Mike hates the totally uncomfortable silence between him and the girl.
Of all the courses in the world, why Accounting in the Ateneo? Damn it!
Mike (not his real name, but he also uses it just the same) just went back to their table near the DJ's booth. He just finished gyrating to the sound of 50 Cent with this girl he just met on the dancefloor a while ago.
While waiting for the drinks they ordered to arrive, the two of them go through the let's-exchange-bio-data game. As they say, to know each other better.
"So, how old are you?" Mike asks.
"Twenty-three" she answers.
"Still studying?"
"Nope. I'm working for an investment house in Makati right now."
"Nice." He forgets what to ask next. The investment part kinda threw him off. He knows zilch about that subject.
"How about you? Are you still studying?" The girl's turn to ask questions.
"Yup, I'm taking up Accounting" Mike starts lying. And Accounting was the first course that came into his mind.
"Really? Which school?" she inquires.
"Ateneo." he says non-chalantly.
"De Manila?"
"Yup."
A confused look appears across the girl's face.
She wonders, "Funny, I graduated from the Ateneo and I don't recall them offering an Accounting degree."
Shit! How early to be caught in a lie. But Mike is unfazed. He shifts into higher gear on his bola mode.
"Huh? Why? When did you graduate?" Mike asks trying to be cool about it but the stutter gave him away.
"Umm, two years ago.
"I knew it. Ateneo just started offering the course last year. That's probably the reason why you didn't know about it." An escape answer he pulled out of thin air.
The girl lifts an eyebrow. This guy is incredible. Incredible in a bullshitty kind of way.
Their drinks arrive. The girl takes a sip of her vodka. And Mike takes three long gulps of his Colt45.
In a place as loud as this bar, Mike hates the totally uncomfortable silence between him and the girl.
Of all the courses in the world, why Accounting in the Ateneo? Damn it!
Monday, August 08, 2005
Telenovelas
I usually write these blog entries during night time. There exists a window every night when I can do my own thing coz my wife is busy with her nightly habit. Every night after dinner, my wife gets ready to watch a series of shows on TV. Yes, my wife belongs to the telenovela-watching masses who feel their day isn't complete if they don't get to know what happened to the kampanera who was caught stealing by the taumbayan (Naks, updated).
It becomes mutually agreeable for the both of us not to bother each other for about one hour while each of us does his/her own nightly ritual -- she, watching her telenovelas; and I, writing my blog entries.
I used to have issues with this habit of my wife. There have been various instances in the past when we would have to hurry finishing up our food while we were dining out simply because we might miss one of her telenovelas. Of course, you might say that the VCR is the most convenient solution to this problem. But remember, I have my TV shows that I wouldn't wanna miss too. So during the nights when her telenovela schedule would clash with my televised basketball game sked, a major crisis occurs on who would get to record which show on the VCR. Yes, boys and girls, these are the types of dilemma some marriages face. Or is it just us?
Really, what is it with these telenovelas? I am of the belief that if you've seen one, you've seen them all. Rich guy meets poor girl. Parents of rich guy don't approve of poor girl. The two get separated. Poor girl works her way up. The two finally meet again. Discover they still love each other. They live happily ever after. There are just some minor variations and added spices like kontrabidas, sidekicks and side-stories for other characters. But basically, they are all fuckingly the same.
I have read somewhere in the internet about a study on people who like watching these TV soaps. According to the study, these people are generally not happy with their lives. The telenovelas become an escape for them. Their chance to identify with the hero and live with the hope that in the end, everything would go their way. When I told my wife about it, the response I got was a resounding "Screw you!"
I'd be a hypocrite if I tell you that I haven't been tempted to peek at those shows while my wife watches them. For a while, I was even hooked to one show. The one where a girl transforms into a superhero dressed in a red two-piece swimsuit, a white piece of cloth hanging in her front from her belt, a weird-looking helmet, and red knee-high boots. Well, I was not exactly hooked. I just told my wife to holler up and inform me whenever Angel Locsin is already in her skimpy Darna outfit and ready to fight the villains. But I guess you know what exactly it is I am looking at. You guessed it right -- the fight scene choreography.
I just have an issue with this Darna character though. How can a petite girl swallow a piece of rock and yet, still be a capable of shouting "Darna!"?!
It becomes mutually agreeable for the both of us not to bother each other for about one hour while each of us does his/her own nightly ritual -- she, watching her telenovelas; and I, writing my blog entries.
I used to have issues with this habit of my wife. There have been various instances in the past when we would have to hurry finishing up our food while we were dining out simply because we might miss one of her telenovelas. Of course, you might say that the VCR is the most convenient solution to this problem. But remember, I have my TV shows that I wouldn't wanna miss too. So during the nights when her telenovela schedule would clash with my televised basketball game sked, a major crisis occurs on who would get to record which show on the VCR. Yes, boys and girls, these are the types of dilemma some marriages face. Or is it just us?
Really, what is it with these telenovelas? I am of the belief that if you've seen one, you've seen them all. Rich guy meets poor girl. Parents of rich guy don't approve of poor girl. The two get separated. Poor girl works her way up. The two finally meet again. Discover they still love each other. They live happily ever after. There are just some minor variations and added spices like kontrabidas, sidekicks and side-stories for other characters. But basically, they are all fuckingly the same.
I have read somewhere in the internet about a study on people who like watching these TV soaps. According to the study, these people are generally not happy with their lives. The telenovelas become an escape for them. Their chance to identify with the hero and live with the hope that in the end, everything would go their way. When I told my wife about it, the response I got was a resounding "Screw you!"
I'd be a hypocrite if I tell you that I haven't been tempted to peek at those shows while my wife watches them. For a while, I was even hooked to one show. The one where a girl transforms into a superhero dressed in a red two-piece swimsuit, a white piece of cloth hanging in her front from her belt, a weird-looking helmet, and red knee-high boots. Well, I was not exactly hooked. I just told my wife to holler up and inform me whenever Angel Locsin is already in her skimpy Darna outfit and ready to fight the villains. But I guess you know what exactly it is I am looking at. You guessed it right -- the fight scene choreography.
I just have an issue with this Darna character though. How can a petite girl swallow a piece of rock and yet, still be a capable of shouting "Darna!"?!
Sunday, August 07, 2005
Blame It On The Rain
"Nakakahiya ka kagabi." tells my wife, smiling.
I know what my wife is talking about. We were at a house party with our barkada. And I was dancing and singing my lungs out last night.
Blame it on the booze. The celebrants prepared enough booze to send us all into a coma. Though I only had around fives bottles of light beer last night, the effects were felt until early this morning as I woke up. Or maybe I had more than five. Oh hell, I don't know really. I usually lose count after my fourth bottle.
Blame it on my DJ friends who handled the decks. I decided I preferred handling beer bottles over manning the decks last night. And they did a pretty swell job of bringing out the party animals inside of us. They started out with foot-thumping, head-bobbing, uber-cool house music. But as the night wore on, and the crowd started getting tipsy, the general rule for any house party is: let them hear what pumps them up. And in a party demographics of mostly Gen-Xers, old music of the 80s is definitely the way to go.
Blame it on the lyrics of those 80s songs. Lyrics that are imprinted in our memories and we just couldn't help but sing along with them. Never mind if sablay every once in a while.
Blame it on my crazy friends. Craziness does get contagious. And the effects usually worsen when alcohol gets into the bloodstream.
Or as one of those 80s song goes, just blame it on the rain.
I just decided I shall never drink again with these guys. At least, that's my decision... for now.
I know what my wife is talking about. We were at a house party with our barkada. And I was dancing and singing my lungs out last night.
Blame it on the booze. The celebrants prepared enough booze to send us all into a coma. Though I only had around fives bottles of light beer last night, the effects were felt until early this morning as I woke up. Or maybe I had more than five. Oh hell, I don't know really. I usually lose count after my fourth bottle.
Blame it on my DJ friends who handled the decks. I decided I preferred handling beer bottles over manning the decks last night. And they did a pretty swell job of bringing out the party animals inside of us. They started out with foot-thumping, head-bobbing, uber-cool house music. But as the night wore on, and the crowd started getting tipsy, the general rule for any house party is: let them hear what pumps them up. And in a party demographics of mostly Gen-Xers, old music of the 80s is definitely the way to go.
Blame it on the lyrics of those 80s songs. Lyrics that are imprinted in our memories and we just couldn't help but sing along with them. Never mind if sablay every once in a while.
From Madonna's Material Girl:Blame it on my wife who loves dancing the swing. That somehow set the dancing mood for the night. But I really can't recall how one moment we were dancing the swing, and the next moment I was pushed in the middle of the dance floor with the rest of my crazy barkada while we did our imitation of the Michael Jackson moonwalks and crotch-grabbing dance moves. The type of dancing you wouldn't want your kids to see lest they lose respect for their parents.
Some boys kiss me
Some boys hug me
I think they're all gay*
If they don't give me
Proper credit
I just walk away
*should be: I think they're okay
Or Toni Basil's Mickey
It's guy like you Mickey
I want to do Mickey, do Mickey**
Don't break my heart Mickey
**should be: Oh what you do Mickey, do Mickey
Blame it on my crazy friends. Craziness does get contagious. And the effects usually worsen when alcohol gets into the bloodstream.
Or as one of those 80s song goes, just blame it on the rain.
I just decided I shall never drink again with these guys. At least, that's my decision... for now.
Friday, August 05, 2005
Talents and Hobbies
There are certain hobbies that you get into simply because you have the corresponding talent necessary for it. Take the visual arts like drawing or sketching for example. Maybe as a kid, you liked drawing. Your mom always wondered how you could consume that whole set of pad paper she bought you just a week before. And she discovered that you filled up every sheet of it with the sketch of your favorite cartoon character. But instead of getting mad at you, she enrolls you the following summer to an art school for kids.
Or maybe as a kid, your idea of killing boredom was disassembling that toy train that you got last Christmas and trying to build a robot out of it. As you grew older, that toy robot was replaced by that bike which you disassembled and re-assembled every weekend to improve its aerodynamics. And as an adult, that bike eventually became the car that you souped up every now and then, not only to improve its performance, but also to score more pogi points with the chicks.
You might think that I was describing myself in the above paragraphs. Well, the first part on being artistic, I don't think that would apply to me. You see, back in kindergarten, in one of our coloring projects, I managed to color the eggs in the drawing using the black crayon. I kid you not. Even my Mom got teary-eyed when she saw the artworks of all the kids displayed side by side in our classroom. My kid might be disturbed. Black eggs, tsk, tsk, tsk. Well, at least, my eggs stood out from the rest.
The second hobby, I admit, somehow applies to me. I remember having quite a few experiences with disassembling various toys and broken appliances. Yes, they were already broken even before I tinkered with them, you smart ass. I just thought I could fix them. But most of the time, the only thing I got to accomplish was to electrocute myself with a jolt.
And so I ponder about my writing talent (or lack of it). This blog is supposed to be an outlet for me to develop my writing skills. I try to remember if as a kid I already showed signs that I would be a pretty decent writer.
A visit to our ancestral home (It's actually just an old house which my grandparents did not even get to own. I just like the sound of ancestral home to refer to the house of my lola) would reveal evidence about my writing skills.
There's a certain wall up in the second floor which I would like to call the kulotski board. Using pencils, crayons, ballpens, even markers, that was where I practiced writing the alphabet, my name, and drawing creepy-looking stick figures which I'm afraid to show to psycho-analysts now. I have no idea why my mom and lola allowed me to vandalise that part of the house. It's not as if I showed potential in being a writer or an artist. You would even need a mirror to read what I wrote. This is because my writing was classified as mirror writing. It was not only written backwards, but the characters were also flipped horizontally. In short, talagang baliktad. Thinking how I managed to do that freaks me out. I know, I was really a weird kid.
Well, look at the bright side. I think I may have improved my writing. I don't write backwards anymore and my letters aren't flipped horizontally. The only things backward and flipped right now are my brains.
Would you consider that as improvement?
Or maybe as a kid, your idea of killing boredom was disassembling that toy train that you got last Christmas and trying to build a robot out of it. As you grew older, that toy robot was replaced by that bike which you disassembled and re-assembled every weekend to improve its aerodynamics. And as an adult, that bike eventually became the car that you souped up every now and then, not only to improve its performance, but also to score more pogi points with the chicks.
You might think that I was describing myself in the above paragraphs. Well, the first part on being artistic, I don't think that would apply to me. You see, back in kindergarten, in one of our coloring projects, I managed to color the eggs in the drawing using the black crayon. I kid you not. Even my Mom got teary-eyed when she saw the artworks of all the kids displayed side by side in our classroom. My kid might be disturbed. Black eggs, tsk, tsk, tsk. Well, at least, my eggs stood out from the rest.
The second hobby, I admit, somehow applies to me. I remember having quite a few experiences with disassembling various toys and broken appliances. Yes, they were already broken even before I tinkered with them, you smart ass. I just thought I could fix them. But most of the time, the only thing I got to accomplish was to electrocute myself with a jolt.
And so I ponder about my writing talent (or lack of it). This blog is supposed to be an outlet for me to develop my writing skills. I try to remember if as a kid I already showed signs that I would be a pretty decent writer.
A visit to our ancestral home (It's actually just an old house which my grandparents did not even get to own. I just like the sound of ancestral home to refer to the house of my lola) would reveal evidence about my writing skills.
There's a certain wall up in the second floor which I would like to call the kulotski board. Using pencils, crayons, ballpens, even markers, that was where I practiced writing the alphabet, my name, and drawing creepy-looking stick figures which I'm afraid to show to psycho-analysts now. I have no idea why my mom and lola allowed me to vandalise that part of the house. It's not as if I showed potential in being a writer or an artist. You would even need a mirror to read what I wrote. This is because my writing was classified as mirror writing. It was not only written backwards, but the characters were also flipped horizontally. In short, talagang baliktad. Thinking how I managed to do that freaks me out. I know, I was really a weird kid.
Well, look at the bright side. I think I may have improved my writing. I don't write backwards anymore and my letters aren't flipped horizontally. The only things backward and flipped right now are my brains.
Would you consider that as improvement?
Wednesday, August 03, 2005
Gummy Bears
I worked in the States for quite a few years. I was an employee for a food distribution company that sold candies, nuts, jerkies and other snacks. And my job was to handle the accounts receivables from the different client stores and distributors of the company.
Contrary to popular belief, it is not true that if you were a business major back in college, you should be pretty good in accounting. Well, I did pass all my accounting subjects. And I was pretty decent with financial analysis. You know, the ratios, cash flow, ROI, those sorts of stuff. But the manual and extremely monotonous aspect of accounting, which involves posting of payments, credit here, debit there - they used to give me monumental headaches.
It certainly didn't help that I was just contented to copy all the answers to the accounting assignments we had when we were in high school. Frankly, I didn't know then that I was gonna be a business major in college. See how well-planned my life was?
Wait, I seem to have strayed away from my topic. I know I'm trying to build up a point here somewhere. Oh yeah, my work as a member of the accounting staff.
That was my official designation. But aside from that, I was also practically the one-man IT department of our relatively small company. During the time that I started working there, they were also starting to upgrade the whole database system of the company. Thankfully, they finally realized that DOS based programs will eventually be outdated. And since yours truly was the most knowledgable in terms of computers in the office, I was designated to coordinate with the outsourced programmers who were setting up our new system. I am also the one called on by my other officemates to troubleshoot minor technical glitches every once in a while.
And that's not all. During lunch time, when our receptionist / telephone operator would take her lunch, I, together with my roommate, was tasked to receive all the incoming phone calls. It was scary at first. English wasn't really my native tongue. And I have just arrived from Manila. Still learning to imitate the LA twang. But I caught on pretty quick. Yes, I'm a fast learner. After a few sessions of my tongue performing the Doctor Quack-Quack game all by itself, I got the hang of it. I can still actually command my tongue to shift back to reproduce that LA accent. You should hear me swear profanities in my Amboy accent.
Lastly, whenever all the marketing and sales people were out in the field, all the calls regarding product complaint became my responsibility. I know it may sound too stressful, being on the receiving end of unsatisfied customers. But I guarantee you, there were light moments. Moments when you actually want to roll over the floor laughing.
"This is Arnold speaking. Hi! How are you?" One of the first lessons I learned, always start a conversation with a how-are-you, even if you don't actually care.
"Good. How are you?" His voice a bit animated.
"Pretty good myself. What can I do for you?" Ending the pleasantires and getting down to business.
"I just bought a pack of your gummy bears at a nearby seven-eleven. I really love eating those when I sit down and watch TV." They usually start with the good news first.
"Nice to know that you like them." I'm now bracing for the complaint.
"But last night, while I was eating them, I noticed something wrong with your gummy bears." Okay, so here he starts.
The caller continues, "I would just like to ask if you can make your gummy bears smile a little bit more."
What did he say? Did he just say he wants a more smiley gummy bear?
"You see, I examined those cute gummies last night before I ate them. And I noticed that they aren't too cheerful enough. Gummy bears are supposed to be happy, right?
"Err, ummm... I guess so, sir..." At this point, I think I lost my feigned accent.
The caller continues a bit more on why gummy bears should be sunshine cheerful. But he says, we should maintain the taste of the present gummies, just the perfect blend of sweet and sour.
I thanked the guy for letting us know his opinion. And I assured him that I shall forward it to the people in charge.
Right after I hung up the phone, I burst into a laughter till my jaws and tummy hurt. I was totally unproductive for about five minutes.
And when I was already capable of talking, I relayed the story to my Filipino officemates. In moments of joyful bliss, it's easier to tell a story in your native tongue. And as expected, I also sent them into a laughing fit. Yeah, what's with these Americans? Don't they have anything more worthy to worry about? Leave the facial expressions of those candies alone!
When that episode was finally over, I had to make a report for the complaints I got and forward it to the person responsible for answering or remedying them.
Then, I realized I couldn't figure out one thing.
So who the hell is in charge for making the gummy bears smile?
Contrary to popular belief, it is not true that if you were a business major back in college, you should be pretty good in accounting. Well, I did pass all my accounting subjects. And I was pretty decent with financial analysis. You know, the ratios, cash flow, ROI, those sorts of stuff. But the manual and extremely monotonous aspect of accounting, which involves posting of payments, credit here, debit there - they used to give me monumental headaches.
It certainly didn't help that I was just contented to copy all the answers to the accounting assignments we had when we were in high school. Frankly, I didn't know then that I was gonna be a business major in college. See how well-planned my life was?
Wait, I seem to have strayed away from my topic. I know I'm trying to build up a point here somewhere. Oh yeah, my work as a member of the accounting staff.
That was my official designation. But aside from that, I was also practically the one-man IT department of our relatively small company. During the time that I started working there, they were also starting to upgrade the whole database system of the company. Thankfully, they finally realized that DOS based programs will eventually be outdated. And since yours truly was the most knowledgable in terms of computers in the office, I was designated to coordinate with the outsourced programmers who were setting up our new system. I am also the one called on by my other officemates to troubleshoot minor technical glitches every once in a while.
And that's not all. During lunch time, when our receptionist / telephone operator would take her lunch, I, together with my roommate, was tasked to receive all the incoming phone calls. It was scary at first. English wasn't really my native tongue. And I have just arrived from Manila. Still learning to imitate the LA twang. But I caught on pretty quick. Yes, I'm a fast learner. After a few sessions of my tongue performing the Doctor Quack-Quack game all by itself, I got the hang of it. I can still actually command my tongue to shift back to reproduce that LA accent. You should hear me swear profanities in my Amboy accent.
Lastly, whenever all the marketing and sales people were out in the field, all the calls regarding product complaint became my responsibility. I know it may sound too stressful, being on the receiving end of unsatisfied customers. But I guarantee you, there were light moments. Moments when you actually want to roll over the floor laughing.
"This is Arnold speaking. Hi! How are you?" One of the first lessons I learned, always start a conversation with a how-are-you, even if you don't actually care.
"Good. How are you?" His voice a bit animated.
"Pretty good myself. What can I do for you?" Ending the pleasantires and getting down to business.
"I just bought a pack of your gummy bears at a nearby seven-eleven. I really love eating those when I sit down and watch TV." They usually start with the good news first.
"Nice to know that you like them." I'm now bracing for the complaint.
"But last night, while I was eating them, I noticed something wrong with your gummy bears." Okay, so here he starts.
The caller continues, "I would just like to ask if you can make your gummy bears smile a little bit more."
What did he say? Did he just say he wants a more smiley gummy bear?
"You see, I examined those cute gummies last night before I ate them. And I noticed that they aren't too cheerful enough. Gummy bears are supposed to be happy, right?
"Err, ummm... I guess so, sir..." At this point, I think I lost my feigned accent.
The caller continues a bit more on why gummy bears should be sunshine cheerful. But he says, we should maintain the taste of the present gummies, just the perfect blend of sweet and sour.
I thanked the guy for letting us know his opinion. And I assured him that I shall forward it to the people in charge.
Right after I hung up the phone, I burst into a laughter till my jaws and tummy hurt. I was totally unproductive for about five minutes.
And when I was already capable of talking, I relayed the story to my Filipino officemates. In moments of joyful bliss, it's easier to tell a story in your native tongue. And as expected, I also sent them into a laughing fit. Yeah, what's with these Americans? Don't they have anything more worthy to worry about? Leave the facial expressions of those candies alone!
When that episode was finally over, I had to make a report for the complaints I got and forward it to the person responsible for answering or remedying them.
Then, I realized I couldn't figure out one thing.
So who the hell is in charge for making the gummy bears smile?
Monday, August 01, 2005
An Invitation
Below is a copy of the email invitation I am sending out to people I know. An invitation to check out this blog site. I decided to get a little more creative than the usual please-visit-my-blog-at-boring-dot-blogspot-dot-com line.
From: kulotology@gmail.com
Sent: whenever
To: allmyfriends@nice.com, allmyenemies@kupal.com,
everyoneelse@whoever.com
Subject: An Invitation
"So ano pinagkaka-abalahan natin ngayon, Arnold, este Kulot. Kulot nga pala ang screen name nitong batang ito." Kuya Germs says, starting the interview.
"Meron ho akong bagong ginagawa ngayon, Kuya Germs. Yung blog site ko po, kulotology.blogspot.com, Kuya Germs." Kulot politely answers.
"Blogsite? Ano yun? Explain mo naman para sa mga boys and gels dito na hindi nakaka-intindi kung ano yun." Kuya Germs now a bit confused.
"Ganito po yon. Ang blog site po ay isang web log. Web... as in World Wide Web, Kuya Germs? Yung sa internet? Web log... Weblog... Eblog... Blog... BLOG! Gets nyo, Kuya Germs?" Kulot patiently explains.
A blank stare from Kuya Germs. Obviously clueless.
Kulot rolls his eyes over.
"Ok, eto Kuya Germs. Sinusulatan po ito ng mga entries kahit tungkol saan ng isang taong walang magawa o trip lang magpatawa o mang-asar. Minsan may sense, pwede rin namang minsan eh wala."
Kuya Germs suddenly brightens up. "Ahh, parang yung script and production numbers sa That's dati? Minsan may sense, minsan wala." Kuya Germs volunteers.
"Ahh... eh... medyo ho." Kulot uncomfortably replies. Minsan may sense? Kelan?, a thought he controlled not to say.
"Ganito na lang, Kuya Germs. Parang diary or journal. Sinusulatan ng mga nangyari sa iyo o pwede rin sa ibang tao. Pwede ring mga kuro-kuro lang, o opinyon. Minsan may pictures din. Kahit ano, actually."
"Ah ok. O sige na, imbitahan mo na sila para panoorin yang blog-blog mong yan. Kelan na ba showing yan? At sino-sino mga kasama mo?" Kuya Germs interrupts, obviously wanting to end the interview.
"Kuya Germs, hindi po sa TV or sa sine ito. Sa internet po." Kulot sighs, getting more impatient by the second.
"O sige, kung saan man yan. Imbitahan mo na sila." Kuya Germs hurriedly says, now really aching to end this conversation.
"Ok. Para po sa inyong lahat. Subukan nyo pong bisitahin ang blog site ko. The address is kulotology.blogspot.com. Marami po kayong makikita at mababasa. I try my best to make it entertaining. Sana po ay magustuhan nyo. And feel free to leave your comments sa mga entries ko. Remember, kulotology.blogspot.com." Kulot mechanically recites the memorized line he has rehearsed a million times.
"Salamat, Kulot! At sa susunod uli na may gusto kang i-plug, open naman kami lagi dito sa Master Showman. Basta ikaw." Kuya Germs happily says as he hands over a basket of promotional goods as gift to his weird guest tonight, err.. or early morning as it is already 2:00AM.
Kuya Germs flashes the familiar hand sign as he says, "Maghanap-buhay na muna tayo. Commercial na muna. Babalik pa po kami. Dito lang sa Master Showman! WALANG TULUGAAAANN!!!
Kulot shakes the hand of Kuya Germs as they thank each other. He then gathers the costume he stripped off earlier in his production number with the Sex Bomb Dancers as his back-up.
The things he has to endure just to promote his blog.
From: kulotology@gmail.com
Sent: whenever
To: allmyfriends@nice.com, allmyenemies@kupal.com,
everyoneelse@whoever.com
Subject: An Invitation
"So ano pinagkaka-abalahan natin ngayon, Arnold, este Kulot. Kulot nga pala ang screen name nitong batang ito." Kuya Germs says, starting the interview.
"Meron ho akong bagong ginagawa ngayon, Kuya Germs. Yung blog site ko po, kulotology.blogspot.com, Kuya Germs." Kulot politely answers.
"Blogsite? Ano yun? Explain mo naman para sa mga boys and gels dito na hindi nakaka-intindi kung ano yun." Kuya Germs now a bit confused.
"Ganito po yon. Ang blog site po ay isang web log. Web... as in World Wide Web, Kuya Germs? Yung sa internet? Web log... Weblog... Eblog... Blog... BLOG! Gets nyo, Kuya Germs?" Kulot patiently explains.
A blank stare from Kuya Germs. Obviously clueless.
Kulot rolls his eyes over.
"Ok, eto Kuya Germs. Sinusulatan po ito ng mga entries kahit tungkol saan ng isang taong walang magawa o trip lang magpatawa o mang-asar. Minsan may sense, pwede rin namang minsan eh wala."
Kuya Germs suddenly brightens up. "Ahh, parang yung script and production numbers sa That's dati? Minsan may sense, minsan wala." Kuya Germs volunteers.
"Ahh... eh... medyo ho." Kulot uncomfortably replies. Minsan may sense? Kelan?, a thought he controlled not to say.
"Ganito na lang, Kuya Germs. Parang diary or journal. Sinusulatan ng mga nangyari sa iyo o pwede rin sa ibang tao. Pwede ring mga kuro-kuro lang, o opinyon. Minsan may pictures din. Kahit ano, actually."
"Ah ok. O sige na, imbitahan mo na sila para panoorin yang blog-blog mong yan. Kelan na ba showing yan? At sino-sino mga kasama mo?" Kuya Germs interrupts, obviously wanting to end the interview.
"Kuya Germs, hindi po sa TV or sa sine ito. Sa internet po." Kulot sighs, getting more impatient by the second.
"O sige, kung saan man yan. Imbitahan mo na sila." Kuya Germs hurriedly says, now really aching to end this conversation.
"Ok. Para po sa inyong lahat. Subukan nyo pong bisitahin ang blog site ko. The address is kulotology.blogspot.com. Marami po kayong makikita at mababasa. I try my best to make it entertaining. Sana po ay magustuhan nyo. And feel free to leave your comments sa mga entries ko. Remember, kulotology.blogspot.com." Kulot mechanically recites the memorized line he has rehearsed a million times.
"Salamat, Kulot! At sa susunod uli na may gusto kang i-plug, open naman kami lagi dito sa Master Showman. Basta ikaw." Kuya Germs happily says as he hands over a basket of promotional goods as gift to his weird guest tonight, err.. or early morning as it is already 2:00AM.
Kuya Germs flashes the familiar hand sign as he says, "Maghanap-buhay na muna tayo. Commercial na muna. Babalik pa po kami. Dito lang sa Master Showman! WALANG TULUGAAAANN!!!
Kulot shakes the hand of Kuya Germs as they thank each other. He then gathers the costume he stripped off earlier in his production number with the Sex Bomb Dancers as his back-up.
The things he has to endure just to promote his blog.
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