I was active in the youth organization of our village when I was young. I was an officer of the organization all throughout my high school and college years. And during our term as officers, we made it a point that our summers would be filled with activities. After all, summer is the best time of the year to go out and have fun when you are young.
Sportsfests, fund-raising projects, fiesta preparations, and even out-of-town excursions. The fun we got from organizing these activities was reward in itself. The camaraderie cultivated the friendships. And the responsibilities consequently prepared us for bigger roles in our adult lives.
We have passed the torch of leadership about two generations ago. After all, we cannot remain in the Youth Club all our lives. Some of us now are even elevated to the Homeowners’ Association. But we have remained the kuya’s and ate’s for these young people, guiding them along the way.
But somehow it pains for us to see the organization we once loved so much being disregarded by apathetic members of the youth.
But it still puzzles me why. What? Have they become so busy with their household chores that they now cannot find time for extra-curricular activities anymore? Remember, these kids belong to families with at least one maid to perform the household work for them. Does cleaning your own bedroom now constitute a whole day activity? Or could it be that Playstation games now take much longer to finish that they are willing to sacrifice the fun of real sports competitions for the ultimate thrill of exercising your thumbs? Or have their virtual lives in the internet totally replaced their social lives?
Hay naku! Times are indeed changing. Tumatanda na talaga ako.
Thursday, April 20, 2006
Sunday, April 16, 2006
Bisita Iglesia 2006
"I didn’t know that we can get to Laguna that easily by passing thru Rizal. Is it that far away from the places we went to last year?" Evan asked.
"The first town of Laguna is like 20 minutes away from Pililia, the last town we visited last year," I replied
"Have you been to where we’re going?" Evan inquired again.
"Nope," I honestly answered him.
"So how are we gonna get there?" he asked worriedly.
"I have a map," an answer which was only partly true. Coz the following morning, the day of our Bisita Iglesia, I brought the map I was talking about - a map of the whole Philippines with a scale of 1:1,000,000. It was the type of map that when you measure the distance of Puerto Galera to Boracay with your hand, it would just amount to one dangkal.
I had no idea where we were going to last Maundy Thursday during our Bisita Iglesia. I figured it wouldn't be that difficult to locate the town churches in Laguna. And thank God we didn't get lost.
And the map? Believe it or not, it proved to be useful enough. Heck, we may even be able to use it next year when we go on with our next Bisita Iglesia. We haven't decided yet on where to go to next year. But definitely it may be a bit farther from Mega Manila. Bicol maybe?
Evan? Care to be the navigator once again? We may still be, ummm, using the same map.
"The first town of Laguna is like 20 minutes away from Pililia, the last town we visited last year," I replied
"Have you been to where we’re going?" Evan inquired again.
"Nope," I honestly answered him.
"So how are we gonna get there?" he asked worriedly.
"I have a map," an answer which was only partly true. Coz the following morning, the day of our Bisita Iglesia, I brought the map I was talking about - a map of the whole Philippines with a scale of 1:1,000,000. It was the type of map that when you measure the distance of Puerto Galera to Boracay with your hand, it would just amount to one dangkal.
I had no idea where we were going to last Maundy Thursday during our Bisita Iglesia. I figured it wouldn't be that difficult to locate the town churches in Laguna. And thank God we didn't get lost.
And the map? Believe it or not, it proved to be useful enough. Heck, we may even be able to use it next year when we go on with our next Bisita Iglesia. We haven't decided yet on where to go to next year. But definitely it may be a bit farther from Mega Manila. Bicol maybe?
Evan? Care to be the navigator once again? We may still be, ummm, using the same map.
Thursday, April 13, 2006
Wire-less Internet Disconnection
Some idiots decided to steal the PLDT cables in our area. As a result, half the households in our village lost their telephone services. Damn!
And telephone services, in my case, include internet connection. Double damn!
So, for the first time in such a long while, I had to read news from a real newspaper. Go outside to know how the weather is. Use a real radio when listening to music instead of the usual net streaming. Share opinions with friends using old-fashioned kwentuhan as opposed to the forum or bulletin board system. Wait for the cable TV barker channel to show the TV sked. (I suggest you try doing it if you want to test the limits of your patience.) And rely on my mobile phone to get updated on emails from my e-groups.
I was un-wired, disconnected, and virtually non-existent during those days. It was a refreshing change for a while. Then, inevitably, it began to totally suck.
I am in favor for Congress to classify the theft of those telecommunication wires to fall under economic sabotage (if it still not is). It should punishable by death thru strangulation by cable wire or firing squad by Counter Strike enthusiasts. The hassle and inconvenience are simply unspeakable.
And telephone services, in my case, include internet connection. Double damn!
So, for the first time in such a long while, I had to read news from a real newspaper. Go outside to know how the weather is. Use a real radio when listening to music instead of the usual net streaming. Share opinions with friends using old-fashioned kwentuhan as opposed to the forum or bulletin board system. Wait for the cable TV barker channel to show the TV sked. (I suggest you try doing it if you want to test the limits of your patience.) And rely on my mobile phone to get updated on emails from my e-groups.
I was un-wired, disconnected, and virtually non-existent during those days. It was a refreshing change for a while. Then, inevitably, it began to totally suck.
I am in favor for Congress to classify the theft of those telecommunication wires to fall under economic sabotage (if it still not is). It should punishable by death thru strangulation by cable wire or firing squad by Counter Strike enthusiasts. The hassle and inconvenience are simply unspeakable.
Tuesday, April 11, 2006
Excuses, Excuses
I know. It has been more than a month since my last post. And for that, I apologize to all of my loyal readers. You know who you are. Yup, all three of you. But believe it or not, I do have excuses for not being able to update this blog for such a long period of time.
No, I didn’t get abducted by strange, little, green creatures aboard a space craft. And no, I also deny that my wife disconnected our internet connection when she caught me surfing porn sites. And thank heavens, it’s also not true that Mister A finally found the entries I posted about him and decided to run me over with his pleading-to-be-retired-jeepney.
Here’s the truth. First, I had an extreme and prolonged case of writer’s block. The heat of the summer not only dehydrated the water off my body. But I guess it also dried up the creative juices from my brain, whatever little amount was left flowing in it. There were times when I would just stare at my laptop monitor for minutes. Type a few words. Hit backspace. Type a few words again. Then hit the monitor with a baseball bat. The attempts were not only unproductive but they were also destructive at times.
Second, my laptop bogged down (must be from the baseball ball hitting). As I’ve mentioned in a previous post, I usually write down these entries during night time at home using my laptop. But there was a time when my laptop wouldn’t cooperate. Just like Kobe with the rest of the Lakers, my laptop refused to cooperate with me and decided to do things on its own. And I was so lazy to go back to my office (which is actually just a few steps away from our house) to do my blogging from my ever-reliable desktop PC.
Third, I lost my internet connection for an extended period of time. Remember those bakal boys I wrote about in a previous entry? I suspect they had something to do with the missing PLDT cables here in our area. Even a nearby mall became “phone-less” for a few weeks. Thus, no credit card payments were accepted even for the groceries. And I had to learn it the hard way, if you know what I mean.
But now, thankfully, I’m back. Just like that zit which keeps popping right at the top of you nose just when you are due to deliver a major presentation, I am definitely back.
No, I didn’t get abducted by strange, little, green creatures aboard a space craft. And no, I also deny that my wife disconnected our internet connection when she caught me surfing porn sites. And thank heavens, it’s also not true that Mister A finally found the entries I posted about him and decided to run me over with his pleading-to-be-retired-jeepney.
Here’s the truth. First, I had an extreme and prolonged case of writer’s block. The heat of the summer not only dehydrated the water off my body. But I guess it also dried up the creative juices from my brain, whatever little amount was left flowing in it. There were times when I would just stare at my laptop monitor for minutes. Type a few words. Hit backspace. Type a few words again. Then hit the monitor with a baseball bat. The attempts were not only unproductive but they were also destructive at times.
Second, my laptop bogged down (must be from the baseball ball hitting). As I’ve mentioned in a previous post, I usually write down these entries during night time at home using my laptop. But there was a time when my laptop wouldn’t cooperate. Just like Kobe with the rest of the Lakers, my laptop refused to cooperate with me and decided to do things on its own. And I was so lazy to go back to my office (which is actually just a few steps away from our house) to do my blogging from my ever-reliable desktop PC.
Third, I lost my internet connection for an extended period of time. Remember those bakal boys I wrote about in a previous entry? I suspect they had something to do with the missing PLDT cables here in our area. Even a nearby mall became “phone-less” for a few weeks. Thus, no credit card payments were accepted even for the groceries. And I had to learn it the hard way, if you know what I mean.
But now, thankfully, I’m back. Just like that zit which keeps popping right at the top of you nose just when you are due to deliver a major presentation, I am definitely back.
Monday, March 06, 2006
Coming Out
I was a very shy kid. A painfully shy kid. I didn’t like playing with other children I didn’t know much. When I was still very young, around four or five, I was sometimes contented with just watching from our window those jologs kids who lived right across our house playing tumbang preso.
The only memories that I have during my pre-school years are those of playing with my two playmates. Yup, one, two. I only had two playmates. The first one was a second-degree cousin, Ewa, who lived just beside our place. And the second one, Egay, was a grandson of my Lola’s friend. They were both my age.
Most of the time, I would ask my Lola to fetch these two playmates so that they can come over to our place where we would play various games young kids then played. This was the time before Playstation or Gameboy was invented. Lego and Atari would come in a few years later. So we had to content ourselves with playing toy soldiers, matchbox cars and baril-barilan. You know, the usual stuff little boys play with.
At that very young age, Egay already showed signs that he was different. From my point of view at least, his preferences of toys were kinda different from Ewa’s and mine. When Ewa and I would like to play shooting toy soldiers with toy guns, Egay preferred playing with dolls. Ewa and I would convince Egay to just line up his doll with our toy soldiers so that we could shoot it too. But he would rather comb the hair of the doll while watching us shoot down those toy soldiers.
But there were also some games when all three of us could play. For instance, in our version of the bahay-bahayan, Egay would always insist that he be the mother – complete with a flower tucked behind the ear ala Jasmine Trias. Had Brokeback Mountain already been shown then, I guess we could have also convinced him to play Cowboy with us.
As fate would have it, I lost contact with these two playmates when our family moved to our new home. And years later, I would just hear stories from my Mom about Egay. That he had already decided to come out. It wasn’t much of a surprise. Everyone knew it was coming.
I guess he didn’t have as much confusion as Rustom did in coming up with that decision. No butterflies and no female friend pissing in the garden needed.
The only memories that I have during my pre-school years are those of playing with my two playmates. Yup, one, two. I only had two playmates. The first one was a second-degree cousin, Ewa, who lived just beside our place. And the second one, Egay, was a grandson of my Lola’s friend. They were both my age.
Most of the time, I would ask my Lola to fetch these two playmates so that they can come over to our place where we would play various games young kids then played. This was the time before Playstation or Gameboy was invented. Lego and Atari would come in a few years later. So we had to content ourselves with playing toy soldiers, matchbox cars and baril-barilan. You know, the usual stuff little boys play with.
At that very young age, Egay already showed signs that he was different. From my point of view at least, his preferences of toys were kinda different from Ewa’s and mine. When Ewa and I would like to play shooting toy soldiers with toy guns, Egay preferred playing with dolls. Ewa and I would convince Egay to just line up his doll with our toy soldiers so that we could shoot it too. But he would rather comb the hair of the doll while watching us shoot down those toy soldiers.
But there were also some games when all three of us could play. For instance, in our version of the bahay-bahayan, Egay would always insist that he be the mother – complete with a flower tucked behind the ear ala Jasmine Trias. Had Brokeback Mountain already been shown then, I guess we could have also convinced him to play Cowboy with us.
As fate would have it, I lost contact with these two playmates when our family moved to our new home. And years later, I would just hear stories from my Mom about Egay. That he had already decided to come out. It wasn’t much of a surprise. Everyone knew it was coming.
I guess he didn’t have as much confusion as Rustom did in coming up with that decision. No butterflies and no female friend pissing in the garden needed.
Sunday, February 26, 2006
Lessons In EDSA
I wasn’t’ able to join the People Power Revolution back in 1986. I was too young then. I just turned 14.
Neither was I able to join EDSA 2. It was physically impossible since I was too far away. I was living in Los Angeles then.
EDSA 3? I don’t think so. Even if this is the third chance for me to join a potentially historic event in unseating a president, I think I would choose to pass.
I have nothing against those people who march out to the streets to fight for what they believe in. People like Professor Randy David have always made it clear that this society needs changes. Radical changes.
But somehow, I believe that Filipinos haven’t really learned their lessons. And I’m not only talking about lessons in EDSA here but more so in realizing that EDSA is just the first step. Rebuilding a nation requires a lot more hard work than trooping to that famous stretch of road dissecting this metropolis.
I remember way back in 1987, at the first year anniversary of the original People Power Revolution, our most-feared History teacher required us to join the celebrations commemorating the event. I was young, idealistic, nationalistic, and I wore Haruta leather shoes. Without my socks on. Yes, my dear wife, I was a certified fashion victim back then. Imagine me walking the stretch of EDSA from Ortigas to Camp Aguinaldo wearing my leather loafers. Predictably, at the end of the day, my two feet were sore from all the blisters I got from that ordeal.
But the thing is I learned my lesson well. Wear the appropriate shoes for the proper occasion.
For the Filipino people, we cannot hope to go far on this journey if we do not learn the lessons history keeps on teaching us. Just like the blisters on my feet, these would prevent us from moving further.
Neither was I able to join EDSA 2. It was physically impossible since I was too far away. I was living in Los Angeles then.
EDSA 3? I don’t think so. Even if this is the third chance for me to join a potentially historic event in unseating a president, I think I would choose to pass.
I have nothing against those people who march out to the streets to fight for what they believe in. People like Professor Randy David have always made it clear that this society needs changes. Radical changes.
But somehow, I believe that Filipinos haven’t really learned their lessons. And I’m not only talking about lessons in EDSA here but more so in realizing that EDSA is just the first step. Rebuilding a nation requires a lot more hard work than trooping to that famous stretch of road dissecting this metropolis.
I remember way back in 1987, at the first year anniversary of the original People Power Revolution, our most-feared History teacher required us to join the celebrations commemorating the event. I was young, idealistic, nationalistic, and I wore Haruta leather shoes. Without my socks on. Yes, my dear wife, I was a certified fashion victim back then. Imagine me walking the stretch of EDSA from Ortigas to Camp Aguinaldo wearing my leather loafers. Predictably, at the end of the day, my two feet were sore from all the blisters I got from that ordeal.
But the thing is I learned my lesson well. Wear the appropriate shoes for the proper occasion.
For the Filipino people, we cannot hope to go far on this journey if we do not learn the lessons history keeps on teaching us. Just like the blisters on my feet, these would prevent us from moving further.
Thursday, February 23, 2006
Discover Philippines II
I've found it!
A few weeks ago, I posted an entry about the latest Smart / DOT TV ad featuring the various tourist spots in the Philippines. And I was particualry intrigued by the shot of what seemed like a chapel inside a cave. But I didn't know where in the Philippines it is located.
And last night, as my wife and I were surfing the net, looking for travel packages online for our summer destination this year, we stumbled upon the Wow Philippines website. (And as I also found out, the Department of Tourism wasn't able to get the domain name of www.wowphilippines.com. They, instead, settled with www.wowphilippines.com.ph.)
And there I saw it. The Peñablanca Caves located in Cagayan Province. The TV shot on the commercial and the pics on the website are just a taste of it. I'm sure that it's pretty much more grand and breath-taking once you reach the place.
It may take a lot of planning to be able to shedule a trip to Cagayan. Not to mention a lot of convincing on who would be helping out in driving. Coz for those who know me, I'm really super-lazy when it comes to driving. Especially long-driving. But I feel that it would be worth it as I discovered that there are a lot more tourist attractions in that area of the Philippines.
But for now, our focus is on Bohol. It's our first time there this summer. And boy, are we excited. Especially my wife who insists that I take some very good pictures of the tarsiers in Bohol. She plans to have some blown up pictures printed and compare it with one of her officemates who, according to her, looks like a tarsier.
A few weeks ago, I posted an entry about the latest Smart / DOT TV ad featuring the various tourist spots in the Philippines. And I was particualry intrigued by the shot of what seemed like a chapel inside a cave. But I didn't know where in the Philippines it is located.
And last night, as my wife and I were surfing the net, looking for travel packages online for our summer destination this year, we stumbled upon the Wow Philippines website. (And as I also found out, the Department of Tourism wasn't able to get the domain name of www.wowphilippines.com. They, instead, settled with www.wowphilippines.com.ph.)
And there I saw it. The Peñablanca Caves located in Cagayan Province. The TV shot on the commercial and the pics on the website are just a taste of it. I'm sure that it's pretty much more grand and breath-taking once you reach the place.It may take a lot of planning to be able to shedule a trip to Cagayan. Not to mention a lot of convincing on who would be helping out in driving. Coz for those who know me, I'm really super-lazy when it comes to driving. Especially long-driving. But I feel that it would be worth it as I discovered that there are a lot more tourist attractions in that area of the Philippines.
But for now, our focus is on Bohol. It's our first time there this summer. And boy, are we excited. Especially my wife who insists that I take some very good pictures of the tarsiers in Bohol. She plans to have some blown up pictures printed and compare it with one of her officemates who, according to her, looks like a tarsier.
Friday, February 17, 2006
Turning 34
"You're turning 34!" wife exclaims.
"Yeah, I know," husband says, eyes not leaving the book he is reading.
"You're already in your mid-thirties," wife says.
Husband stops reading his book. Then he looks at the wife.
"Ha ha ha! You're old!" wife teases.
"Look who's talking. I'm just one year older than you are."
"But still," wife interrupts. "I still belong to the Early Thirties bracket. While you are already entering the Mid Thirties."
"Yada yada," husband goes back to his book.
"So what do you want on your party?" wife asks.
"People who are in their mid-thirties don't like parties," husband states sarcastically.
"So we're not throwing a party this weekend?"
"No."
"Okay. Suits me just fine. I won't have to worry about the menu."
A few moments of silence as the two decide to just read their respective books.
Husband breaks the silence. "We haven't done a white party yet. You think that would be cool?"
Wife raises an eyebrow on hubby.
"Yeah, I know," husband says, eyes not leaving the book he is reading.
"You're already in your mid-thirties," wife says.
Husband stops reading his book. Then he looks at the wife.
"Ha ha ha! You're old!" wife teases.
"Look who's talking. I'm just one year older than you are."
"But still," wife interrupts. "I still belong to the Early Thirties bracket. While you are already entering the Mid Thirties."
"Yada yada," husband goes back to his book.
"So what do you want on your party?" wife asks.
"People who are in their mid-thirties don't like parties," husband states sarcastically.
"So we're not throwing a party this weekend?"
"No."
"Okay. Suits me just fine. I won't have to worry about the menu."
A few moments of silence as the two decide to just read their respective books.
Husband breaks the silence. "We haven't done a white party yet. You think that would be cool?"
Wife raises an eyebrow on hubby.
Monday, February 13, 2006
B (Manilow) On Helium
I just tried to search the net if there was a holiday yesterday like maybe the International Tone Deaf Day. Search produced zilch. No such holiday yesterday here in the Philippines, or anywhere in the world.
I’m still wondering what the hell happened yesterday at the party of one of our neighbors. You see, from time to time, our peaceful community gets scandalized by those loud videoke machines that one can rent on a daily basis. And yesterday was one of those days as a neighbor held a videoke party by his garage.
One of the guests was B, one of the more colorful characters in our village. Already in his late thirties, I strongly believe that the term KSP was invented because of him. And I also strongly believe that he comes from a family who are all tone deaf. Coz if someone who really cared for him told him the harsh truth, he wouldn’t dare sing another song and he would drop his dream of becoming the village concert artist.
Imagine this. At 11AM, as soon as the rented videoke machine arrived, B started his performance with the gayest performance of an Eraserheads classic. He followed it up with two more classic OPM songs to warm up his vocal chords. Then, he rested for about 3 songs. And when he resumed, there really was no stopping him.
From that whole afternoon until around 10PM when the party broke off, B probably hogged the microphone 80% of the time. I couldn’t care less since it wasn’t my party anyway. But I really couldn’t help noticing his singing as his voice was competing with the audio of the TV program my wife and I were watching. He was Barry Manilow on helium. And what was worse was that he's more tone deaf than the worst singers of the defunct That’s Entertainment teen show.
Yesterday, I was just waiting for B to sing "My Way". Had that happened, I would instead be searching the web today for a news item about the latest victim of the My Way curse.
I’m still wondering what the hell happened yesterday at the party of one of our neighbors. You see, from time to time, our peaceful community gets scandalized by those loud videoke machines that one can rent on a daily basis. And yesterday was one of those days as a neighbor held a videoke party by his garage.
One of the guests was B, one of the more colorful characters in our village. Already in his late thirties, I strongly believe that the term KSP was invented because of him. And I also strongly believe that he comes from a family who are all tone deaf. Coz if someone who really cared for him told him the harsh truth, he wouldn’t dare sing another song and he would drop his dream of becoming the village concert artist.
Imagine this. At 11AM, as soon as the rented videoke machine arrived, B started his performance with the gayest performance of an Eraserheads classic. He followed it up with two more classic OPM songs to warm up his vocal chords. Then, he rested for about 3 songs. And when he resumed, there really was no stopping him.
From that whole afternoon until around 10PM when the party broke off, B probably hogged the microphone 80% of the time. I couldn’t care less since it wasn’t my party anyway. But I really couldn’t help noticing his singing as his voice was competing with the audio of the TV program my wife and I were watching. He was Barry Manilow on helium. And what was worse was that he's more tone deaf than the worst singers of the defunct That’s Entertainment teen show.
Yesterday, I was just waiting for B to sing "My Way". Had that happened, I would instead be searching the web today for a news item about the latest victim of the My Way curse.
Tuesday, February 07, 2006
Muted Medicine
The narrow hallways of the building were quite dark and claustrophobic. It was a far cry from the ultra-chic doctors’ offices in The New Medical City that I used to frequent just a few months before. But what could you expect. This was at the heart of old Binondo.
I counted at least three "turn off your cellphone" signs on the way to the doctor’s office. And as we were greeted by the doctor’s secretary to have our names listed down, she again reminded us to turn our cellphones off. Putting it on vibrate mode wasn’t enough, she reminded. It had to be strictly turned off. Gosh, they’re really serious about it. But why? I had to wait till a little bit later to satisfy my curiosity.
The waiting area was a shabby four-by-six meter room right adjacent to the doctor’s clinic. People who were already waiting were sitting on plastic chairs scattered all over the room. A 21" television was hanging by the ceiling in front. Two industrial fans served as ventilation. Talk about bare essentials.
Some people tried to watch the TV. I wasn’t interested. First, because it was showing a cartoon show. Second, because the volume was set very low that one can barely hear what Barney was saying on TV. Third, I had a stiff neck and watching the TV hanging from above would only force me to strain my neck muscles even more.
And so I just tried to relax sitting by my plastic stool. I was observing the room and the other people beside me. Hmmm. The four walls of the room were covered with paddings. And those paddings were the type used in sound-proofing.
The turned off cellphones, the almost-muted TV, and the sound-proofed walls. Something told me that they were all connected. And I would get some explanations in a while.
As we had our turn to consult with the doctor, I experienced the weirdest way a doctor diagnoses his patient. He touched the pulse from my left wrist using his fingers. Intently. Then he did the same thing with the pulse from my right wrist. That was it. He just listened, or should I say felt my pulses.
So that was what the strict rules about unnecessary noise and interference were all about. So that the doctor’s concentration wouldn’t be disturbed. (Yes, he knows if there is a cellphone turned on as one patient who didn’t turn off his discovered.)
Then, in the best Tagalog a pure Chinese can dare to speak, the doctor told me his diagnosis. And I was surpised that he was able to tell me various diagnosis about my health that I knew were true.
I won’t go into the details of the diagnosis and his prescription of herbal medicine. I won’t even convince you to believe in the way this doctor practices medicine. But when modern medicine fails to cure some illness of our modern times, it may be worth the try to go back to the basics.
I counted at least three "turn off your cellphone" signs on the way to the doctor’s office. And as we were greeted by the doctor’s secretary to have our names listed down, she again reminded us to turn our cellphones off. Putting it on vibrate mode wasn’t enough, she reminded. It had to be strictly turned off. Gosh, they’re really serious about it. But why? I had to wait till a little bit later to satisfy my curiosity.
The waiting area was a shabby four-by-six meter room right adjacent to the doctor’s clinic. People who were already waiting were sitting on plastic chairs scattered all over the room. A 21" television was hanging by the ceiling in front. Two industrial fans served as ventilation. Talk about bare essentials.
Some people tried to watch the TV. I wasn’t interested. First, because it was showing a cartoon show. Second, because the volume was set very low that one can barely hear what Barney was saying on TV. Third, I had a stiff neck and watching the TV hanging from above would only force me to strain my neck muscles even more.
And so I just tried to relax sitting by my plastic stool. I was observing the room and the other people beside me. Hmmm. The four walls of the room were covered with paddings. And those paddings were the type used in sound-proofing.
The turned off cellphones, the almost-muted TV, and the sound-proofed walls. Something told me that they were all connected. And I would get some explanations in a while.
As we had our turn to consult with the doctor, I experienced the weirdest way a doctor diagnoses his patient. He touched the pulse from my left wrist using his fingers. Intently. Then he did the same thing with the pulse from my right wrist. That was it. He just listened, or should I say felt my pulses.
So that was what the strict rules about unnecessary noise and interference were all about. So that the doctor’s concentration wouldn’t be disturbed. (Yes, he knows if there is a cellphone turned on as one patient who didn’t turn off his discovered.)
Then, in the best Tagalog a pure Chinese can dare to speak, the doctor told me his diagnosis. And I was surpised that he was able to tell me various diagnosis about my health that I knew were true.
I won’t go into the details of the diagnosis and his prescription of herbal medicine. I won’t even convince you to believe in the way this doctor practices medicine. But when modern medicine fails to cure some illness of our modern times, it may be worth the try to go back to the basics.
Sunday, February 05, 2006
The Monster
The Monster forced him to do those things. Endure the scorching heat of the sun and the sudden drops of the rains. Sleep by the sidewalks just to be able to reserve a spot in the line. The borrowed money was just enough for a one way ride. No extra cash for food. He just had to feed on what was left of him. Hope. Hope that he would win the game of chances. The probability was close to nil. What with the thousands of people just like him also waiting in line. Everyone hoping and hanging on to their dreams.
It is the same Monster which has been repeatedly playing with his fortune. His and of the millions of others who are just like him. Their stories are different, yet very much the same. The Monster owns them all.
This same Monster chose to get even crueler with his fate. It decides to push him. Push him harder even if he can’t move on any further. And when he couldn’t move on a step further, he stumbles. Down on the ground, the Monster pins him down. He cries. But it doesn’t heed his call. It continues by planting its ugly feet on his back. The weight crushes him. His shriek of pain dissolves into a whimper of submission. With unbearable pain of the repeated blows squashing his already beaten up body, he surrenders. His frail body can only take so much.
The Monster leaves him. Lifeless.
Crushed not only was his body, but also his dreams. His family’s hope and fortune remains dim, if not darker with his death. Another story of unthinkable misfortune. Another tale of human tragedy.
The Monster continues to claim lives. Many more lives of people like him who cannot break away from its clutches.
The Monster has a name. And it is called Poverty.
It is the same Monster which has been repeatedly playing with his fortune. His and of the millions of others who are just like him. Their stories are different, yet very much the same. The Monster owns them all.
This same Monster chose to get even crueler with his fate. It decides to push him. Push him harder even if he can’t move on any further. And when he couldn’t move on a step further, he stumbles. Down on the ground, the Monster pins him down. He cries. But it doesn’t heed his call. It continues by planting its ugly feet on his back. The weight crushes him. His shriek of pain dissolves into a whimper of submission. With unbearable pain of the repeated blows squashing his already beaten up body, he surrenders. His frail body can only take so much.
The Monster leaves him. Lifeless.
Crushed not only was his body, but also his dreams. His family’s hope and fortune remains dim, if not darker with his death. Another story of unthinkable misfortune. Another tale of human tragedy.
The Monster continues to claim lives. Many more lives of people like him who cannot break away from its clutches.
The Monster has a name. And it is called Poverty.
Thursday, February 02, 2006
I Got Stabbed!
"Aling Lydia! Aling Lydia! Si Kulot ho nasaksak!"
("Miss Lydia! Miss Lydia! Kulot got stabbed!")
Aling Lydia is my Mom. I am Kulot. I was eight years old when it happened. And it was my friends who were shouting those carelessly chosen words, informing my Mom of an accident I met.
No, I was not the youngest member of the Sigue Sigue Sputnik who got caught in a gang war. And neither did I have an enemy mad enough to stab me. I was an adorable little kid. Really.
My playmates and I were playing one of our favorite games – street kickball. It’s a game very similar to baseball or softball except that instead of hitting a small ball with a bat, we were supposed to kick a football and run through four bases.
The football was kicked by one of my playmates and accidentally landed inside the front yard of one of our neighbors. Or in the lingo of street play, it went over-the-bakod. Unfortunately, there was no one inside the house. So we had to climb the fence ourselves to retrieve our ball.
You know how kids are. We had to race among ourselves to know who can get to the ball first. And so climb we did. The metal spikes of the fences didn’t deter our resolve to get our ball back.
I was among the first to climb the fence. As I was about to leverage my arms and feet to climb atop one of the cement posts, I felt something unusual touch my skin. It was in the inside of my right arm, just below the armpit. I took a peek as to what it was. And to my horror, my arm wasn’t just touched by something. The metal spike of the fence actually pierced into my arm. It was already about one inch inside the flesh of my triceps. There was no blood. Or at least, I don’t remember seeing blood flowing out from the wound. And the weirder thing was I didn’t feel any pain.
I immediately removed my arm from the metal spike and went down the fence. It only took a moment for my friends to realize what happened. And it was when all hell broke loose.
I ran home as fast as I could. My left hand was covering the stab wound on my right arm. As if I was so afraid to let blood drop from the wound. A few of my friends ran faster ahead of me towards the direction of our house to inform my mom as to what happened. As I was running, I was deciding whether to just faint and let my other friends catch me and bring me home.
Everything happened so quickly after that. My mom almost got a heart attack with the way my playmates broke the news to her. I was rushed to the hospital. And I got stitched up for the first time in my life.
The scar would later be a reminder of my daredevil recklessness when I was a kid.
("Miss Lydia! Miss Lydia! Kulot got stabbed!")
Aling Lydia is my Mom. I am Kulot. I was eight years old when it happened. And it was my friends who were shouting those carelessly chosen words, informing my Mom of an accident I met.
No, I was not the youngest member of the Sigue Sigue Sputnik who got caught in a gang war. And neither did I have an enemy mad enough to stab me. I was an adorable little kid. Really.
My playmates and I were playing one of our favorite games – street kickball. It’s a game very similar to baseball or softball except that instead of hitting a small ball with a bat, we were supposed to kick a football and run through four bases.
The football was kicked by one of my playmates and accidentally landed inside the front yard of one of our neighbors. Or in the lingo of street play, it went over-the-bakod. Unfortunately, there was no one inside the house. So we had to climb the fence ourselves to retrieve our ball.
You know how kids are. We had to race among ourselves to know who can get to the ball first. And so climb we did. The metal spikes of the fences didn’t deter our resolve to get our ball back.
I was among the first to climb the fence. As I was about to leverage my arms and feet to climb atop one of the cement posts, I felt something unusual touch my skin. It was in the inside of my right arm, just below the armpit. I took a peek as to what it was. And to my horror, my arm wasn’t just touched by something. The metal spike of the fence actually pierced into my arm. It was already about one inch inside the flesh of my triceps. There was no blood. Or at least, I don’t remember seeing blood flowing out from the wound. And the weirder thing was I didn’t feel any pain.
I immediately removed my arm from the metal spike and went down the fence. It only took a moment for my friends to realize what happened. And it was when all hell broke loose.
I ran home as fast as I could. My left hand was covering the stab wound on my right arm. As if I was so afraid to let blood drop from the wound. A few of my friends ran faster ahead of me towards the direction of our house to inform my mom as to what happened. As I was running, I was deciding whether to just faint and let my other friends catch me and bring me home.
Everything happened so quickly after that. My mom almost got a heart attack with the way my playmates broke the news to her. I was rushed to the hospital. And I got stitched up for the first time in my life.
The scar would later be a reminder of my daredevil recklessness when I was a kid.
Saturday, January 28, 2006
Discover Philippines
One television commercial made me realize one thing - that I have a lot more places to visit and discover here in my home country.
If you have no idea what I am talking about, try watching the boobtube. I am talking about the new TV commercial by Smart, in cooperation with the Department of Tourism. The one where Regine Velasquez sings the Biyahe Tayo song.
A church inside a cave-like structure. Well, firstly I am not sure if it really is a church. But I did see what looked like church pews in one shot. And it seems that it is located inside a spacious rock-formation.
Zebras and giraffes running in the wild. I am not talking about Manila Zoo animals here. The shots of these animals suggest that they are freely roaming around in the wild.
A very picturesque lighthouse. I think I know where this one is located 'coz I remember watching a TV feature on that particular lighthouse. Can someone please verify if this is the one located in Ilocos' northern-most tip?
The raging waters and the waterfalls. I have seen quite a few waterfalls here in the Philippines. But I don't think I've been to that one shot in the commercial. It doesn't look like a high waterfall, but it is a wide one with the power of the raging waters making it look like a small Niagara falls.
The old baroque church with a facade which looks like it is made up of reddish clay. Our Bisita Iglesia itinerary this coming Holy week includes those old churches around Laguna de Bay. I am not sure if we would pass by this one. But I do hope that I get to visit that church some time soon.
Windmill power genarators. It is such a shame that when I saw the windmills, what came to my mind was San Francisco. 'Coz they looked exactly the same as the windmills that one passes by when taking a drive from LA to SF. But this one definitely is in the Philippines.
Help me out here, blogmates. If you know any of the places shot in the commercial, please let me know thru the comments section. I would surely want to visit those places in my lifetime. There is nothing like discovering new places in you very own country.
I promise to share pictures with you if and when I get to visit any of these places.
If you have no idea what I am talking about, try watching the boobtube. I am talking about the new TV commercial by Smart, in cooperation with the Department of Tourism. The one where Regine Velasquez sings the Biyahe Tayo song.
A church inside a cave-like structure. Well, firstly I am not sure if it really is a church. But I did see what looked like church pews in one shot. And it seems that it is located inside a spacious rock-formation.
Zebras and giraffes running in the wild. I am not talking about Manila Zoo animals here. The shots of these animals suggest that they are freely roaming around in the wild.
A very picturesque lighthouse. I think I know where this one is located 'coz I remember watching a TV feature on that particular lighthouse. Can someone please verify if this is the one located in Ilocos' northern-most tip?
The raging waters and the waterfalls. I have seen quite a few waterfalls here in the Philippines. But I don't think I've been to that one shot in the commercial. It doesn't look like a high waterfall, but it is a wide one with the power of the raging waters making it look like a small Niagara falls.
The old baroque church with a facade which looks like it is made up of reddish clay. Our Bisita Iglesia itinerary this coming Holy week includes those old churches around Laguna de Bay. I am not sure if we would pass by this one. But I do hope that I get to visit that church some time soon.
Windmill power genarators. It is such a shame that when I saw the windmills, what came to my mind was San Francisco. 'Coz they looked exactly the same as the windmills that one passes by when taking a drive from LA to SF. But this one definitely is in the Philippines.
Help me out here, blogmates. If you know any of the places shot in the commercial, please let me know thru the comments section. I would surely want to visit those places in my lifetime. There is nothing like discovering new places in you very own country.
I promise to share pictures with you if and when I get to visit any of these places.
Thursday, January 26, 2006
Tuition Tees
Back in the late 80’s, a shirt thought up by a group of graduating seniors from my university had this rather braggart print (and we wonder why people call us elitists, duh):
FRONT:
This shirt cost my parents P 48,742.85
BACK:
…and I am worth every cent of it.
It was a time when a semester’s tuition fee from the other colleges and universities would only cost around P 1,000 to P 2,000. Looking back, what the hell was I thinking by asking my parents to let me study there? We were just a common middle class family with both parents working their butts off to be able to send their children to school. But I guess being a member of a very small family with only one other sibling has its advantages.
Fastforward to the present. I just learned that to be able to send a child to grade school in an exclusive school here in the Metro would mean shelling out around P 60,000 a year just for tuition fees alone. Whew! How fast time flies. And how fast tuition fees increase.
I have already made the computations long ago. With the current rate tuition fees hike up every year, it is a fair estimate that they would double up every six to seven years. And I have been fairly accurate with my estimates. I graduated from college with my last semester costing my parents around P15,000. That was 14 years ago. From what I heard last year from a friend who teaches there, a semester’s tuition fee already costs P60,000 easily.
So if I would have a child born today, I should prepare myself to cough up roughly P 250,000 to P 400,000 a semester for his college degree.
Funny, that shirt will surely take on a totally different meaning 20 years from now.
Tuesday, January 24, 2006
Stwictly Speaking
Nilaro ni Leroy ang relo ni Lorena
Nilaro ni Leroy ang relo ni Lorena
Nilaro ni Leroy ang relo ni Lorena
Nilawo ni Lewoy ang welo ni Lowena
I have a friend who has a hard time pronouncing the letter R. If you guys remember Dranreb Belleza, my friend is a lot worse than him. It's not just the hard, vibrating R that my friend can't pronounce. When you listen close enough, you will find out that it is as if he replaces his R's with the letter W.
Here's how a typical conversation with him goes.
Me: Tine-text ka namin kagabi, di ka naman sumasagot.
Friend: Sowi pawe, late na ko nakauwi galing Gweenhills eh. Pull out kasi kagabi, dami twabaho. Kaya di na ko naka-weply.
M: So kelan ka na manlilibre?
F: Anong libwe?
M: Treat mo dahil birthday mo.
F: Siwaulo ka pala eh! Anong tweat sinasabi mo?
M: Lagot ka sa mga girls pag nakita ka. Di ka man lang daw nagparamdam nung birthday mo.
F: Yawe na naman ako nito!
M: Anniversary ng T-bar next week. Dun ka na lang magpainom.
F: Ahh.. anniversawy ba next week? Sige twy ko.
M: Sige, tutal may utang ka pa sa amin, aliwin mo na lang muna kami. Try saying this na sunod-sunod: 'Idol ko si Ren-Ren Ritualo at si Ravishing Rick Rude.'
F: Tawantado!
Sunday, January 22, 2006
Super Boxing Sunday
In the spirit of the Super Bowl Sunday tradition, my wife and I hosted our very first Super Boxing Sunday earlier today here in our humble home. The big event? The Pacquiao – Morales boxing re-match.
We invited our friends over. Call time was set at 10AM. But considering that most of us attended a birthday party the night before, most of the guys started coming in at around 11AM. But it was okay, it was still early since the Paquaio – Morales match started past 12 noon as aired by ABS-CBN on a slightly delayed basis.
There was barbeque, the staple food in any Super Bowl gathering. But unlike the usual Super Bowl Sunday, there was no beer served earlier. We’ve had enough alcohol from the night before. Barbeque food, a wide screen TV plus a couple of friends – those were all we needed for this Super Boxing Sunday.
Everything was going smoothly as we ate lunch while the match started. That was until our cellphones started beeping. You could actually guess the messages coming in one after another. These are the killjoy A-holes who want to spoil your viewing pleasure by informing you of the results of the match. Maybe some of them had pay-per-view. Maybe some of them watched it at Rockwell or at the SM Cinemas. Or maybe some of them had relatives from the States who texted the results to them. I don’t really care. I intentionally did not read my text messages for more than two hours coz I knew I would receive those kinds of messages.
Some of my friends weren’t so lucky. They unwillingly knew the results from text messages from people they knew. One friend of mine even got the text from a priest friend. Can you actually believe it? A priest doing the spoiling for you?! Oh, men. Thankfully, my friends didn’t spoil it for us. They still watched the match with us, just keeping quiet while the rest of us shouted and rejoiced for every punch Pacquiao connected.
And some weren’t contented with text messages. Our landline kept on ringing. Talk to the busy tone, you insensitive prick. I’m unhooking that phone line for the remainder of this match.
Thankfully, Manny Pacquiao won the match via TKO on the 10th round. And I was very satisfied with the way the match was fought. But for the spoilers of these events, I’m still a bit confused. What kind of satisfaction do you get by spoiling the excitement of a very good boxing match by informing others of the results while they are still watching the match unfold? I don’t get it. Really.
We invited our friends over. Call time was set at 10AM. But considering that most of us attended a birthday party the night before, most of the guys started coming in at around 11AM. But it was okay, it was still early since the Paquaio – Morales match started past 12 noon as aired by ABS-CBN on a slightly delayed basis.
There was barbeque, the staple food in any Super Bowl gathering. But unlike the usual Super Bowl Sunday, there was no beer served earlier. We’ve had enough alcohol from the night before. Barbeque food, a wide screen TV plus a couple of friends – those were all we needed for this Super Boxing Sunday.
Everything was going smoothly as we ate lunch while the match started. That was until our cellphones started beeping. You could actually guess the messages coming in one after another. These are the killjoy A-holes who want to spoil your viewing pleasure by informing you of the results of the match. Maybe some of them had pay-per-view. Maybe some of them watched it at Rockwell or at the SM Cinemas. Or maybe some of them had relatives from the States who texted the results to them. I don’t really care. I intentionally did not read my text messages for more than two hours coz I knew I would receive those kinds of messages.
Some of my friends weren’t so lucky. They unwillingly knew the results from text messages from people they knew. One friend of mine even got the text from a priest friend. Can you actually believe it? A priest doing the spoiling for you?! Oh, men. Thankfully, my friends didn’t spoil it for us. They still watched the match with us, just keeping quiet while the rest of us shouted and rejoiced for every punch Pacquiao connected.
And some weren’t contented with text messages. Our landline kept on ringing. Talk to the busy tone, you insensitive prick. I’m unhooking that phone line for the remainder of this match.
Thankfully, Manny Pacquiao won the match via TKO on the 10th round. And I was very satisfied with the way the match was fought. But for the spoilers of these events, I’m still a bit confused. What kind of satisfaction do you get by spoiling the excitement of a very good boxing match by informing others of the results while they are still watching the match unfold? I don’t get it. Really.
Thursday, January 19, 2006
Personal Finance 101
My parents never had credit cards. Not even to this day. Maybe it’s like the old people’s fear of technology that they never relied on having that piece of plastic for their purchases.
I became the very first member of our family to own a credit card. I got my very first card under my own name when I was 21. And ever since my first credit card bill came up, I have always made it a point to pay the whole amount that was due, down to the last centavo. I never availed of the Pay Easy Plan Minimum option that credit card companies offer.
No one taught me to do it that way. I guess being a business/economics major made it second-nature for me to compare options using computations when making financial decisions. I knew about interest rates and how these credit card companies make money from people who enjoy paying the minimum amount.
Watching a local late night TV show a few days ago, where a financial expert gave advises on personal finance, made me realize that there are a lot of people out there who are in deep financial mess due to credit card bills.
I do not claim to be a financial expert but I decide to use this entry to give out two basic tips on personal finance. If I can save at least just one being reading this blog from a future financial blunder, then that would make me so glad.
1.) Always pay the whole amount due on your monthly credit card bill. It is doable no matter what your monthly income is. And if your credit card payments are starting to squeeze hard on your cash flow, it doesn’t mean that you should completely abandon this exercise of full-payment. It just means that you are probably spending more than you can afford. Cut down on your spending (or find extra means of income) until you achieve a level of payment that would again be easy on your cash flow.
2.) When making financial decisions (like purchasing a new appliance), always write down your computations. Do the spreadsheet analysis. Never rely on guesswork. And never ever base your financial decision just on the reason that it is magaang (easy) or hindi mo mararamdaman. Those easy installment plans that some companies offer often come at a price. And it is a very expensive one if you do not do your homework. It is called interest rate.
Personal finance is just like a game. To win, you must always have a plan – a thoroughly-computed plan that you must follow. Do not rely on your feelings or gut feel. Coz if you do, you will most probably end up losing the game.
I became the very first member of our family to own a credit card. I got my very first card under my own name when I was 21. And ever since my first credit card bill came up, I have always made it a point to pay the whole amount that was due, down to the last centavo. I never availed of the Pay Easy Plan Minimum option that credit card companies offer.
No one taught me to do it that way. I guess being a business/economics major made it second-nature for me to compare options using computations when making financial decisions. I knew about interest rates and how these credit card companies make money from people who enjoy paying the minimum amount.
Watching a local late night TV show a few days ago, where a financial expert gave advises on personal finance, made me realize that there are a lot of people out there who are in deep financial mess due to credit card bills.
I do not claim to be a financial expert but I decide to use this entry to give out two basic tips on personal finance. If I can save at least just one being reading this blog from a future financial blunder, then that would make me so glad.
1.) Always pay the whole amount due on your monthly credit card bill. It is doable no matter what your monthly income is. And if your credit card payments are starting to squeeze hard on your cash flow, it doesn’t mean that you should completely abandon this exercise of full-payment. It just means that you are probably spending more than you can afford. Cut down on your spending (or find extra means of income) until you achieve a level of payment that would again be easy on your cash flow.
2.) When making financial decisions (like purchasing a new appliance), always write down your computations. Do the spreadsheet analysis. Never rely on guesswork. And never ever base your financial decision just on the reason that it is magaang (easy) or hindi mo mararamdaman. Those easy installment plans that some companies offer often come at a price. And it is a very expensive one if you do not do your homework. It is called interest rate.
Personal finance is just like a game. To win, you must always have a plan – a thoroughly-computed plan that you must follow. Do not rely on your feelings or gut feel. Coz if you do, you will most probably end up losing the game.
Monday, January 16, 2006
Shame On You
As if it’s not shameful enough that your whole household had to live with no electricity for a few weeks because Meralco, thankfully, caught you stealing power. And you even found it as an opportunity to brag about your daughters who are working in the States by saying that the penalty Meralco was asking from you (which was about Php300,000) was manageably payable since that was just equivalent to a few hours of work of your daughters as nurses. How come it took you a few weeks to raise the money then?
As if it’s not shameful enough that the hookers you hired made some scene out in the streets of our ordinarily peaceful village prompting your concerned neighbors to call the authorities, only to find out that you double-crossed those bar girls on your agreed upon rate for the services they rendered, thus they ended up raising hell on you. I wonder if your wife, who was then out of the country to visit your daughters in the States, ever knew about it.
As if it’s not shameful enough that you had to do a door-to-door campaign to support your call for a recount of the votes during the previous homeowners’ elections, only to find out that the total votes you really got was two. Yup, two, dos, dalawa, deux. Let me take a wild guess who those two were. One was you, of course. And number two was Mister B, your bestfriend and future mental institution cellmate. Whatever happened to that campaign? I’m just curious if you even found a third ally.
And now, how dare you turn back on an agreement witnessed by several neighbors, village officers plus an MMDA officer that you would readily foot the bill for the repair of the damage caused when your jeepney smashed on my Tatay’s parked vehicle? Of course, you can claim that you are already a senile senior citizen causing you to forget certain things and make senseless decisions. But then, how could you forget that you even signed a memorandum of agreement on your responsibilities on that said accident. It’s all in black and white, mister. And wherever court of law we reach in this dispute, that agreement shall hold ground. Trust me on that.
Shame on you, Mister A.
As if it’s not shameful enough that the hookers you hired made some scene out in the streets of our ordinarily peaceful village prompting your concerned neighbors to call the authorities, only to find out that you double-crossed those bar girls on your agreed upon rate for the services they rendered, thus they ended up raising hell on you. I wonder if your wife, who was then out of the country to visit your daughters in the States, ever knew about it.
As if it’s not shameful enough that you had to do a door-to-door campaign to support your call for a recount of the votes during the previous homeowners’ elections, only to find out that the total votes you really got was two. Yup, two, dos, dalawa, deux. Let me take a wild guess who those two were. One was you, of course. And number two was Mister B, your bestfriend and future mental institution cellmate. Whatever happened to that campaign? I’m just curious if you even found a third ally.
And now, how dare you turn back on an agreement witnessed by several neighbors, village officers plus an MMDA officer that you would readily foot the bill for the repair of the damage caused when your jeepney smashed on my Tatay’s parked vehicle? Of course, you can claim that you are already a senile senior citizen causing you to forget certain things and make senseless decisions. But then, how could you forget that you even signed a memorandum of agreement on your responsibilities on that said accident. It’s all in black and white, mister. And wherever court of law we reach in this dispute, that agreement shall hold ground. Trust me on that.
Shame on you, Mister A.
Thursday, January 12, 2006
The Chicken and the Clueless Chick
We were in the meat section of the supermarket last weekend. My wife was choosing some cuts of chicken meat while I was holding our cart, looking for some peeled shrimp (food for Darna) at the adjacent seafood section.
A lady, probably about our age, lackadaisically pushing her cart, approached the chicken meat section. She was busy chatting on her cellphone, oblivious to the people around her. She positioned her cart right between me and my wife so we couldn’t help but overhear what she was saying.
"Late na nga rin ako nagising kanina eh," she was telling the person on the other end of the line. Judging from her smiling sweet voice and lovestruck eyes while chatting, she was most probably talking to her boyfriend.
Turning her attention to the guy tending the chicken meat section, she asked, "Anong part ng chicken ang kailangan ko para isama sa macaroni salad?"
"Breast po ma’am," the guy politely answered her.
The lady paused for a while, thinking while staring at the chicken breast cuts in front of her.
"One kilo kasi yung macaroni ko eh. Tama lang kaya yung one kilo na chicken breast?" she again asked the guy.
I swear, my jaw dropped upon hearing her question. And I tried to look for my wife’s reaction because I was quite certain she heard it, too. And I saw that she was suppressing a smile.
Now, I never claim to be an expert on anything with regard to preparing food, cooking and other kitchen stuff. But, men, I’m not that dumb not to be able to estimate that a kilo of chicken breast is obviously too much to mix with a kilo of macaroni to prepare macaroni salad. Has this girl ever stepped inside their kitchen before?
I wanted to tell her, "Are you sure it's not tinola you intend to prepare? Coz you can buy the papaya from the fruits and veggies section just right there. Choose the not-so-ripe one."
But this lady seemed to be too proud to ask help from friends or relatives regarding things she is obviously clueless about. Or maybe she just likes discovering things for herself. So, let's just let her be.
And so, the guy from the chicken section answered her politely with her inquiry, telling her that it actually depends on how much she wants to put into the salad. And the girl decided to go ahead and buy one kilo of chicken breast.
She then immediately went back chatting on her cellphone.
"May binibili lang ako dito sa grocery para sa ipe-prepare ko para sa 'yo mamaya," she told the person on the other end, then paused again.
"Basta, surprise," she said in an infatuatedly-giggling-teenager-kind-of-way.
Yeah, to whomever it was she was talking with on the cellphone, you’re in for a surprise.
A lady, probably about our age, lackadaisically pushing her cart, approached the chicken meat section. She was busy chatting on her cellphone, oblivious to the people around her. She positioned her cart right between me and my wife so we couldn’t help but overhear what she was saying.
"Late na nga rin ako nagising kanina eh," she was telling the person on the other end of the line. Judging from her smiling sweet voice and lovestruck eyes while chatting, she was most probably talking to her boyfriend.
Turning her attention to the guy tending the chicken meat section, she asked, "Anong part ng chicken ang kailangan ko para isama sa macaroni salad?"
"Breast po ma’am," the guy politely answered her.
The lady paused for a while, thinking while staring at the chicken breast cuts in front of her.
"One kilo kasi yung macaroni ko eh. Tama lang kaya yung one kilo na chicken breast?" she again asked the guy.
I swear, my jaw dropped upon hearing her question. And I tried to look for my wife’s reaction because I was quite certain she heard it, too. And I saw that she was suppressing a smile.
Now, I never claim to be an expert on anything with regard to preparing food, cooking and other kitchen stuff. But, men, I’m not that dumb not to be able to estimate that a kilo of chicken breast is obviously too much to mix with a kilo of macaroni to prepare macaroni salad. Has this girl ever stepped inside their kitchen before?
I wanted to tell her, "Are you sure it's not tinola you intend to prepare? Coz you can buy the papaya from the fruits and veggies section just right there. Choose the not-so-ripe one."
But this lady seemed to be too proud to ask help from friends or relatives regarding things she is obviously clueless about. Or maybe she just likes discovering things for herself. So, let's just let her be.
And so, the guy from the chicken section answered her politely with her inquiry, telling her that it actually depends on how much she wants to put into the salad. And the girl decided to go ahead and buy one kilo of chicken breast.
She then immediately went back chatting on her cellphone.
"May binibili lang ako dito sa grocery para sa ipe-prepare ko para sa 'yo mamaya," she told the person on the other end, then paused again.
"Basta, surprise," she said in an infatuatedly-giggling-teenager-kind-of-way.
Yeah, to whomever it was she was talking with on the cellphone, you’re in for a surprise.
Monday, January 09, 2006
Starstruck
I have never been so starstruck in my whole life until yesterday.
Gary V, Piolo Pascual, Kristine Hermosa, Luis Manzano, Toni Gonzaga, Anne Curtis, Iya Villania, Nikki Gil, Zsa-zsa Padilla, Kuh Ledesma, Vina Morales, Rica Peralejo, Nina, Nyoy Volante, Pido, Bamboo, Sarah Geronimo, Rachel Anne Go, Sheryn Regis, Mark Bautista, Christian Bautista, Donita Rose, Pinoy Big Brother cast (except for Sam, to my wife’s disappointment) Carlos Agassi, Bernard Palanca, John Pratts, Carol Banawa, Andrea Del Rosario, Aubrey Miles.
The list can go on if I only knew all their names. And I still can’t believe that I saw all of them. And I didn’t only catch a glance of them from afar. I was able to watch them from a spitting distance, literally. Thanks to CVV, the Tita Cory of ABS-CBN, one of the gods for the actors wanting to get the break. Thank God for connections like her, we didn't even have to fall in line like the rest of the audience.
Never mind that my view of these stars sometimes got blocked by the studio cameramen and their assistants. Or that the floor director chose to issue directions right in front of me. Or that a fangirl, who had the nerves to wear Havaianas even if she had dead pinky toenails, often distracted my view while shooting pics. Those were the small annoyances I had to contend with for being in the front row of the studio audience.
I know I’ll get endless teasing from my male friends when they know about this latest excursion they classify as kabaduyan. But I also know that deep inside, most of you wish you were also able to see a goddess like Kristine Hermosa mesmerize you with her aura. Or hear the powerful voice of diva-slash-foxy-momma Zsa-zsa live. Or watch the trio of Rica, Aubrey, and Vina gyrate right in front of you. Eat your heart out, guys.
And I've got two words for you.
Nyeknyek n’yo!
Gary V, Piolo Pascual, Kristine Hermosa, Luis Manzano, Toni Gonzaga, Anne Curtis, Iya Villania, Nikki Gil, Zsa-zsa Padilla, Kuh Ledesma, Vina Morales, Rica Peralejo, Nina, Nyoy Volante, Pido, Bamboo, Sarah Geronimo, Rachel Anne Go, Sheryn Regis, Mark Bautista, Christian Bautista, Donita Rose, Pinoy Big Brother cast (except for Sam, to my wife’s disappointment) Carlos Agassi, Bernard Palanca, John Pratts, Carol Banawa, Andrea Del Rosario, Aubrey Miles.
The list can go on if I only knew all their names. And I still can’t believe that I saw all of them. And I didn’t only catch a glance of them from afar. I was able to watch them from a spitting distance, literally. Thanks to CVV, the Tita Cory of ABS-CBN, one of the gods for the actors wanting to get the break. Thank God for connections like her, we didn't even have to fall in line like the rest of the audience.
Never mind that my view of these stars sometimes got blocked by the studio cameramen and their assistants. Or that the floor director chose to issue directions right in front of me. Or that a fangirl, who had the nerves to wear Havaianas even if she had dead pinky toenails, often distracted my view while shooting pics. Those were the small annoyances I had to contend with for being in the front row of the studio audience.I know I’ll get endless teasing from my male friends when they know about this latest excursion they classify as kabaduyan. But I also know that deep inside, most of you wish you were also able to see a goddess like Kristine Hermosa mesmerize you with her aura. Or hear the powerful voice of diva-slash-foxy-momma Zsa-zsa live. Or watch the trio of Rica, Aubrey, and Vina gyrate right in front of you. Eat your heart out, guys.
And I've got two words for you.
Nyeknyek n’yo!
Saturday, January 07, 2006
Thank You So Much
While channel surfing last weekend, we chanced upon one of those Sunday noontime variety shows. On screen were the twin male hosts of the show. The more popular among the two was reciting his litany of people to thank. This is how I recall what he said.
I'd like to thank everyone who watched Mulawin. Thank you so much. And to all the fans who keep on supporting Mulawin mula nung nasa TV pa lang ito, thank you so much sa inyong lahat. To Direk Mark Reyes and Direk Dominic Zapanta, thank you so much. And thank you so much din sa mga co-stars ko sa pelikula. Thank you, thank you, thank you talaga. Thank you so much for all the support. To GMA management, thank you so much for this project. And thank you so much din sa GMA Films and Regal Entertainment. Para sa mga hindi pa nanonood ng Mulawin The Movie, showing pa po hanggang ngayon. Hope you watch it. Again, thank you so much to all of you. Thank you talaga sa lahat ng suporta. Thank you so much.
What can I say? Thank you so much to you, Richard G (as in Grateful Gorgeous Guy). Because of you, I have another blog entry. Thank you so much.
Thursday, January 05, 2006
Gi-ne-bra! Gi-ne-bra!
"Grabe!"said my wife who was still somehow in a state of shock.
"I know," was all that I could initially say.
We just got off from the parking lot along Roxas Boulevard near the Cuneta Astrodome. My wife and I just witnessed the fiercely contested basketball game between Ginebra and Red Bull for the second semifinals berth in the PBA. Ginebra won.
"And I thought the jeering during the Ateneo – La Salle ballgames were mean enough."
"Apparently, these Ginebra fans can take jeering to another level."
"Did you hear what they called Valenzuela of Red Bull?" she asked me.
"Yup, they called him Diego." I answered her.
"Uh-huh. I didn’t get it at first. That’s why I had to ask the fan beside me. And it turned out it was in reference to that pambansang bading dude from Bubble Gang," she explained.
"But nothing would beat their shouts whenever Torion would get the ball. The whole gallery would yell ‘Adik! Adik! Adik!’ (addict). That was really mean and below the belt," I told her.
"I know. The guy behind me was one of those shouting his voice hoarse. I wanted to tell him, ‘Look who’s talking’. He looks more like a solvent sniffing addict than Torion does."
"I know. But the Red Bull fans wouldn’t go without a fight. Do you remember when Caguioa was taking free throws? They shouted ‘Caguioa pango! Caguioa pango!’ But Caguioa would just play along with them and even point to his nose after making the free throw. That was funny."
"Grabe! Those Ginebra die-hards are the most loyal, most fierceful, most vocal, and most fearsome group of fans I’ve seen," she related.
While the game was definitely an exciting one to watch, it was the sidelights which stuck to our memories deeper.
The best part of it was that we were able to watch everything live from the lower box for free. Thanks to my wife’s friend, Inna, and her connections.
The worst part of it, however, was that we are not sure if we want to do it again. Even if it were for free. The shock of being in the same coliseum with those Ginebra fans was just too much.
"I know," was all that I could initially say.
We just got off from the parking lot along Roxas Boulevard near the Cuneta Astrodome. My wife and I just witnessed the fiercely contested basketball game between Ginebra and Red Bull for the second semifinals berth in the PBA. Ginebra won.
"And I thought the jeering during the Ateneo – La Salle ballgames were mean enough."
"Apparently, these Ginebra fans can take jeering to another level."
"Did you hear what they called Valenzuela of Red Bull?" she asked me.
"Yup, they called him Diego." I answered her.
"Uh-huh. I didn’t get it at first. That’s why I had to ask the fan beside me. And it turned out it was in reference to that pambansang bading dude from Bubble Gang," she explained.
"But nothing would beat their shouts whenever Torion would get the ball. The whole gallery would yell ‘Adik! Adik! Adik!’ (addict). That was really mean and below the belt," I told her.
"I know. The guy behind me was one of those shouting his voice hoarse. I wanted to tell him, ‘Look who’s talking’. He looks more like a solvent sniffing addict than Torion does."
"I know. But the Red Bull fans wouldn’t go without a fight. Do you remember when Caguioa was taking free throws? They shouted ‘Caguioa pango! Caguioa pango!’ But Caguioa would just play along with them and even point to his nose after making the free throw. That was funny."
"Grabe! Those Ginebra die-hards are the most loyal, most fierceful, most vocal, and most fearsome group of fans I’ve seen," she related.
While the game was definitely an exciting one to watch, it was the sidelights which stuck to our memories deeper.
The best part of it was that we were able to watch everything live from the lower box for free. Thanks to my wife’s friend, Inna, and her connections.
The worst part of it, however, was that we are not sure if we want to do it again. Even if it were for free. The shock of being in the same coliseum with those Ginebra fans was just too much.
Tuesday, January 03, 2006
Battle of the Sexes
During the holidays, my friends and I played Battle of the Sexes. It’s a fun-filled, kinda-educational board game that is best played during parties among couples. And the whole idea of the game is to see which among the players knows more about the interests of the opposite sex.
From one deck of cards, males are asked questions about fashion, cosmetics, dining etiquette, and other girlie stuff. While from the other deck of cards, the ladies are asked questions about sports, automotives, alcohol and other guy stuff.
I am not sure if my wife was proud of me that I knew stuff such as exfoliation, Chanel Number 5, the proper way of holding a glass of white wine, and even the description of the empire cut. But our friend Chinky was definitely showing violent reactions for every correct answer I made.
"Sister, I don’t know how your OC husband knows all these things. And I don’t know if I’ll be impressed or what. Could this be your influence? I bet he reads all of your fashion magazines," Chinky tells my wife.
First of all, my dear friend Chinky, I am not OC. So what if I want all of the cards arranged properly before playing the game?
And secondly, I didn’t get knowledge about all those stuff from my wife’s magazines. I’ve said it before here in this blog – I’m a closet metrosexual.
From one deck of cards, males are asked questions about fashion, cosmetics, dining etiquette, and other girlie stuff. While from the other deck of cards, the ladies are asked questions about sports, automotives, alcohol and other guy stuff.
I am not sure if my wife was proud of me that I knew stuff such as exfoliation, Chanel Number 5, the proper way of holding a glass of white wine, and even the description of the empire cut. But our friend Chinky was definitely showing violent reactions for every correct answer I made.
"Sister, I don’t know how your OC husband knows all these things. And I don’t know if I’ll be impressed or what. Could this be your influence? I bet he reads all of your fashion magazines," Chinky tells my wife.
First of all, my dear friend Chinky, I am not OC. So what if I want all of the cards arranged properly before playing the game?
And secondly, I didn’t get knowledge about all those stuff from my wife’s magazines. I’ve said it before here in this blog – I’m a closet metrosexual.
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