kulotski online

Youth Apathy

2006-04-20T20:52:00.000+08:00

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.

Bisita Iglesia 2006

2006-04-16T21:06:00.000+08:00

"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.

Wire-less Internet Disconnection

2006-04-13T20:56:00.000+08:00

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.

Excuses, Excuses

2006-04-11T13:44:00.000+08:00

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.

Coming Out

2006-03-06T21:12:00.000+08:00

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.

Lessons In EDSA

2006-02-26T14:42:00.000+08:00

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.

Discover Philippines II

2006-02-23T18:24:00.000+08:00

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.

Turning 34

2006-02-17T17:03:00.000+08:00

"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.

B (Manilow) On Helium

2006-02-13T21:03:00.000+08:00

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.

Muted Medicine

2006-02-07T22:17:00.000+08:00

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.

The Monster

2006-02-05T16:16:00.000+08:00

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.

I Got Stabbed!

2006-02-02T20:56:00.000+08:00

"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.

Discover Philippines

2006-01-28T20:27:00.000+08:00

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.

Tuition Tees

2006-01-26T22:25:00.000+08:00

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.

Stwictly Speaking

2006-01-24T19:48:00.000+08:00

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!

Super Boxing Sunday

2006-01-22T11:37:00.000+08:00

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.

Personal Finance 101

2006-01-19T22:42:00.000+08:00

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.

Shame On You

2006-01-16T21:03:00.000+08:00

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.

The Chicken and the Clueless Chick

2006-01-12T19:50:00.000+08:00

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.

Starstruck

2006-01-09T19:49:00.000+08:00

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!

Thank You So Much

2006-01-07T14:18:00.000+08:00

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.

Gi-ne-bra! Gi-ne-bra!

2006-01-05T21:38:00.000+08:00

"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.

Battle of the Sexes

2006-01-03T20:16:00.000+08:00

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.

With A Bang!

2005-12-30T20:07:00.000+08:00

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

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

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

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

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

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

But shit happens.

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

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

Beautiful People

2005-12-28T21:28:00.000+08:00

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Why? Are? You? Up?

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

And we broke into a laughter.

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

Christmas Menu

2005-12-26T21:44:00.000+08:00

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bye Bye, Bruce

2005-12-22T20:20:00.000+08:00

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

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

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

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

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

An Open Letter to Santa

2005-12-20T21:20:00.000+08:00

Dear Santa Dude,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Merry Christmas, Santa dude!

Hoping and Waiting,
Kulotski

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

Chivalry and Gucci

2005-12-15T20:03:00.000+08:00

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wrong Number

2005-12-13T20:22:00.000+08:00

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

"Hello," I greeted.

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

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

She hung up.

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

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

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

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

"655-40**," she answered.

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

"Pwede ho kay Bing?" she asked again.

Didn't she hear what I said?

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

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

Is this conversation actually leading to anywhere?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Thank God it did not.

Philippine Blog Awards

2005-12-08T07:37:00.000+08:00

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

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

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

"And the nominees are…"

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

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

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

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

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

But no luck. The awards presentation must go on.

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

"Sean for lengthofwords.blogspot.com!"

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

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

(Fiction)

Shop-All-You-Can

2005-12-06T12:29:00.000+08:00

Imagine this.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hectic

2005-12-04T17:34:00.000+08:00

Five consecutive days. Wednesday thru Sunday.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yah, baby!

Street Crime

2005-11-29T20:10:00.000+08:00

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Beep! Beep!

The car behind me honked for me to move on.

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

Fashion 101

2005-11-24T20:37:00.000+08:00

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

WIFE: What pants?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

HUSBAND (snickers): Hahaha!

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

End of discussion.

Harry's Heart

2005-11-22T19:53:00.000+08:00

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Harry has a confused look on his face.

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

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

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

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

Matchpoint

2005-11-20T23:00:00.000+08:00

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The House

2005-11-17T20:26:00.000+08:00

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So how was it?” I ask them.

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

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

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

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

More laughter inside the car.

Musta Na?

2005-11-13T13:34:00.000+08:00

“Musta na?” I asked my friend.

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

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

Musta na?

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

Musta na?

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

Musta na?

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

Musta na?

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

Musta na?

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

Musta na?

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

Musta na?

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

Musta na?

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

Musta na?

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

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

Musta na?

Miss Universe

2005-11-04T10:43:00.000+08:00

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh yeah?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Thanks 2 My Txtm8

2005-11-01T20:31:00.000+08:00

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

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

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

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

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

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

Trick Or Trip

2005-10-30T13:06:00.000+08:00

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Happy Halloween everyone!

Shaping The Young Mind

2005-10-27T20:38:00.000+08:00

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“A huch is a heart,” Mom explains.

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

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

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

“Atigun,” AJ says excitedly.

My wife and I look at each other.

Atigun? What the? We’re totally clueless.

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

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

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

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

A light bulb flashes inside my head.

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

“Is it an octagon, AJ?”

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

And my wife draws an octagon.

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

Oh Christmas Tree

2005-10-24T21:23:00.000+08:00

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

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

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

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

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

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

Or not.

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

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

It's-Not-Really-Butter

2005-10-20T20:36:00.000+08:00

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“O-kay,” husband agrees uncertainly.

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

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

I know, I’m a closet metrosexual.

Hang The DJ

2005-10-18T07:31:00.000+08:00

My wife hates me for continuously playing the other song.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Listen to it yourself. You be the judge.

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

Swipe Me Baby

2005-10-16T20:49:00.000+08:00

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

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

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

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

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

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

When Winning Isn't Everything

2005-10-13T22:45:00.000+08:00

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But rules are rules.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ironic Bitch

2005-10-11T22:01:00.000+08:00

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

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

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

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

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

Life is an ironic bitch.

The Intruder

2005-10-08T15:30:00.000+08:00

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tatay and Mom keep still, pretending to be asleep.

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

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

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

“Mama, wake up! Mama… Mama… Wake up!”

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

Iced Tea

2005-10-04T21:18:00.000+08:00

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

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

AJ just smiles naughtily.

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

“Fish,” AJ pronounces with his bulol tongue.

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

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

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

The Name Game

2005-10-02T22:55:00.000+08:00

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wanted: Asst. Team Manager

2005-09-30T08:16:00.000+08:00

Job Opening

Position: Assistant Team Manager for the DLSU Green Archers

Requirements:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This is a very urgent requirement.

Grumpy Old Man

2005-09-27T19:40:00.000+08:00

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Thank You, King Eagle

2005-09-25T22:12:00.000+08:00

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

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

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

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

Swoosh!

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

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

And then it happened.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Thank you, LA. Thank you, King Eagle!

Where Does Sandara Park?

2005-09-24T09:42:00.000+08:00

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

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

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

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

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

ACET, UPCAT, ATBP

2005-09-22T18:19:00.000+08:00

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Are You In Or Out?

2005-09-20T21:37:00.000+08:00

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Short Shirt Story

2005-09-18T19:46:00.000+08:00

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

To Be. Or Not. Tutubi

2005-09-17T16:59:00.000+08:00

Tutubi, tutubi
Wag ka magpahuli
Sa batang mapanghi
I saw a dragonfly in our front yard this morning. It was a red one. Or as I and my playmates used to call it when we were still young -- tutubing tanga.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Starstruck in LA

2005-09-15T21:41:00.000+08:00

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Another short prayer is uttered in my mind.

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

Mickey Mouse.

Play That Funky Music

2005-09-13T20:15:00.000+08:00

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hmmm...

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

Cruise Control

2005-09-11T14:52:00.000+08:00

It was only yesterday that I realized that the Star Tollway in Batangas is a place in the Philippines where you can actually use the Cruise Control System. (The only other length of highway I can think of that can rival it would be the new and improved stretch of the North Luzon Expressway.) Not that I was actually able to use Cruise Control since my humble Crosswind doesn't have that feature installed in it. And I know that it is quite unheard of here in the Philippines since the traffic situation here wouldn't even allow a driver to step on the accelerator for more than ten seconds straight without rear-ending the vehicle in front of it. Not even along the misnomered South Superhighway.

But having lived in the States for a while, I know the convenience the Cruise Control System gives to drivers especially for those long drives going from LA to Las Vegas during those long weekends. And yesterday, driving along the Star Tollway in Batangas, I wish I had this feature in my car. It would have given my right foot more resting time which would be later needed when I return to Manila for its normal stop-and-go traffic.

Did you know that the Cruise Control feature is more common with American cars than with their European counterparts? It is simply because the roads in America are generally wider, straighter and destinations are relatively farther apart. It would seem that those Americans have less stressful driving experiences. Of course, I can almost hear those Southern California drivers who trek the 405 daily during rush hour disagreeing with me. But that is more of an exception, I guess.

So, as I blankly stared at the seemingly endless road ahead of me, I tried to keep myself awake by chatting with my 8-year old nephew, who tenaciously insisted on sitting in the front passenger seat, thus effectively displacing my wife to the back seat.

All of a sudden, vvrroooooooommmm!!!

A white sedan zoomed by the other lane so fast that it somehow jolted me from my mindless driving.

It was a Bimmer, 316i I believe. Though I am not really sure if I saw it correctly since it passed by real fast that for just one single second after it zoomed right beside us, it was already a good 15 meters ahead of us.

I looked at my speedometer. I was doing 110. I did some quick calculations in my mind. One second, 15 meters, 15 x 60 equals 900, 900 x 60 equals 54,000. (I know, I'm such a geek.) Damn! That Bimmer was doing 50-60 kph faster than our current speed. Around 160 - 170 kph. Is there any place in the Philippines where speed limits are actually implemented? Really. I am starting to believe those speed limits, like most traffic signs here the Philippines, are mere suggestions.

The American Cruise Control System. And the superiority of German engineering. Wouldn't it be so kewl if I had them in my car? But then again, I do not really pass by the Star Tollway that often so I actually have seldom use for them. And during these times when oil companies increase their fuel prices faster than a Ferrari on steroids, I would still prefer my diesel-fed Isuzu Crosswind. Especially on these long road trips.

My trip may take a bit longer. But I'm pretty sure my gas money will also go a longer way. If I had the hard statistics here with me, I'll volunteer to do the math again for your comparison.

I told you, I'm a geek. A very practical geek at that.

The Way You Look Tonight

2005-09-08T22:06:00.000+08:00

The soft glow of our bedside lamp serves as the only illumination in our room. Shadows seem to move swiftly yet smoothly as casted on our bedroom walls and curtains. Anyone passing outside our house would have seen our shadows had they looked up to the windows of our bedroom by the veranda.

The aroma of the scented candles also helps set up the romantic tone. Outside, the stillness of the night is abruptly shattered by the sudden downpour of the rains. But Michael Buble is undaunted as he croons in the background. The Buble CD is the perfect music for this occasion.

Someday, when I'm awfully low,
When the world is cold...
My wife and I love this song. The romance in My Best Friend's Wedding gave new life to its lyrics. But for us tonight, it is the perfect ballad to set the mood. I warmly hug my wife as we dance slowly around our bedroom. We take leisurely, deliberate steps as we waltz around our private little world.

As we look into each other's eyes, we sing the words of the song. Softly whispering into each other's ears.

And we suddenly saw the humor in what we were doing. We break into a laughter that abruptly ended the sweet dance we were doing just a few moments ago as we realize how unfitting the lyrics of the song is to our present appearances.

I will feel a glow just thinking of you...
And the way you look tonight.
I was already in my usual sleeping attire -- sando tucked in my boxers and all. And she was in her oversized shirt with her face freshly applied with moisturizer and patches of medicinal acne cream. Yeah, how romantic, the way we look tonight.

Bedtime Stories

2005-09-06T21:31:00.000+08:00

Some people I know have lots of rituals before they go to sleep. Some apply tons of cream on their faces in front of the mirror before going to bed. Remember Ly-na? I sure do. For those who are too young and lucky enough not to know what it is, well, it is a type of cream one could buy over the counter (maybe even from a sari-sari store) which, they say, possesses magical powers to whiten your facial skin. The nightmare of seeing it on our housemaid during night time when we were still young has forever scarred my memories.

Some girls comb their hair endlessly before they sleep. I really don't know what it does to the health of their hair. Does it straighten their hair more? Does it promote speedy growth? Does it make their hair more shiny? I remember my Mom once told me that the veterinarian of her pet maltese advised her to comb the hair of her pet so that it grows long, shiny, and tangle-free. The vet advised her to do it for about one hour every after bath. Of course, my mom didn't have the patience for that. She did the next most logical grooming method she knows -- cut the hair of her poor maltese when it grows to unmanageable length.

Wait, where was I? Oh yeah, the nocturnal habits.

I also have a strange sleeping habit. No, it's not a kinky one, you green-minded smart-ass. I actually didn't know it was a weird one until some friends took notice during one of those groups outings.

When I go to sleep, I usually just wear boxers and sando or any air-cool shirt (translation: shirt full of holes that if I wore it outside our house, the security guard of our village would ask me for identification to verify if I really live here).

But what makes my night time fashion sense weird isn't the 'holey' wardrobe preference. It's with the way I wear them. I like to tuck my shirt in my boxers before going to sleep. Yup, tuck in, baby. Why? Because I like to. Because I do not enjoy the feeling of my tummy or my backside being exposed when I sleep. Because I want to compensate for the squatter look of my clothes with the formality of the way I carry myself in my sleep.

You, what's your ritual when going to sleep?

A Complete Trip Down Memory Lane

2005-09-04T15:10:00.000+08:00

Coming out from the oven-hot Blue Eagle Gym, the rain seemed to complement the gloomy feeling we had as UST dealt us a disrespectful loss which broke our team's 7-game winning streak. This wasn't supposed to happen. Not in our house.

As we approach the muddy spot where we parked our car, the memories start rushing in.

"This spot where we parked our car used to be all green. Part of that expansive field that is now slowly being occupied by new buildings. I remember that we even ran across this field before as we tried to launch our kites during one of our PE classes in college," I tell my wife.

"You flew kites in college?" my wife asks trying to confirm if she heard it right.

"Yup, one of those stupid PE classes that was left open since all the other classes were already filled up by the time I got to register. It was called Recreational PE," I tell my wife.

"And you flew kites for PE?" my wife asks again, implying that it was unthinkable for college kids to run around these fields like young children released in a playground.

"Among other things. We sometimes played mini-golf, watched movies, played board games, those sorts of stuff. Anything goes actually. But what we liked most about it was that we mostly had free cuts. So we had time to do some others things. You know how college life is," I explained to her.

"Ayus ah," my wife replies as she tries to avoid the mud spots while she gets into our car. It was a right decision for her just to wear flipflops.

I wipe off my forehead with my hanky. It was already a mixture of sweat and raindrops from the drizzle. I inhaled one last breath as I entered the car. The air still smelled the way I remember it. And I recall telling my wife before when she asked how come most Atenistas are mayayabang, I replied, "It's in the air that we breathe."

"Looks like the jinx is alive in me once again," pronounces my wife inside the car referring to her bad luck of the Eagles losing everytime she watches the game live.

"Nah, UST deserved that win. All their three-point shots were falling in. But despite the loss, I did have a good time. The last-ditch rally gave us all the adrenaline-rush we wanted. And the halftime show by the Band was hilarious," I reply referring to the lesser-exposed members of the Blue Babble Battalion who performed their traditional one-game halftime show for the season.

"Yup, that was funny. Even the cheerleaders from the UST side were applauding," my wife agrees.

The deafening sound of the bass drums. The stifling heat inside the gym. The sight of the spacious Ateneo fields. The distinct smell of the air inside our campus. And the feel of the hallowed grounds under my feet.

Just one more sense to satisfy in order to complete this trip down memory lane. And as our car exits the gate of the Loyola campus, I spotted it immediately.

I quickly maneuvered to stop by the side of Katipunan to buy the taste I distinctly relate to the Ateneo.

The famous Ateneo corn.

Girl, Is The Diamond Your Best Friend?

2005-09-01T22:02:00.000+08:00

While it is true that a diamond is really a beauty to behold, this blog entry is about to challenge the common notion about the diamond, or jewelry in general, as an investment.

A diamond is a girl's best friend. Or so the saying goes. Was it DeBeers who tagged that line in order to attract buyers of their luxurious products? Or was it a justification cooked up by the women in order to rationalize their love affair with the precious stone?

And we commomly hear it from the wives or girlfriends: a diamond is an investment. And they justify the reason for buying those expensive jewelry under the guise of investing.

But let me break down that argument level by level.

What is an investment by the way? In simple layman terms, an investment is something you put your money into with the expectation that it increases in value as time goes on. At face value, the argument that a diamond is an investment seems to hold true. When you buy a diamond and you sell it at a future date, chances are your selling price is higher than your buying price. And that constitutes profit. And profit equals a good investment. Right?

Maybe.

The reason I said maybe is that when our ladies buy diamonds, they do not really buy it with the intention of selling them in the future. They intend to hold on to it for as long as they can. Now, tell me if I am incorrect with that statement. So, with the purpose of the investment defeated, we cannot really classify it as such.

Now, let's assume that a couple who used to be pretty financially well-off suddenly feels the squeeze in their budget. Maybe the business has gone bad, or either of the couple got laid off from work. You would probably think that this would be the perfect time to let go of those jewelry so that they can afford some liquidity in their finances. But does it really happen? Chances are other valuable things in the household would go first before selling those diamonds locked up in the jewelry boxes or safes. Maybe the extra car would go, or that plasma TV, or those other seldom-used appliances at home. But the jewelry would go last, if they go at all.

And then, assuming that the couple would really need the extra money from the sale of those jewelry, that would mean that the order of hierarchy in selling valuable things in the household has reached critical levels. Selling jewelry would almost be unthinkable, but if they do reach that point, chances are they would almost be willing to sell the jewelry at bargain prices. And that, sad to say, is what usually happens. Just to be liquid, they sacrifice the profit from their so-called investment. And when that happens, can we just say that it was, um, a bad investment?

I have nothing against buying jewelry or diamonds as long as the money used to buy them is really disposable income. Money you can afford to splurge on luxuries. Some people do really have budgets for those. These luxury items may not make them earn more money, but the status symbol it brings may just be as important for them. There are things money can buy to make some people feel good about themselves. And diamonds are certainly in that category.

But to justify the purchase as an investment would be like saying I bought my pet arowana to secure our home when we are away.

Holy Smokes, Batman!

2005-08-30T22:20:00.000+08:00

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?

Grand Entrance To A Party

2005-08-29T21:31:00.000+08:00

"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.

So won't you tell me
What I can do
What I can say
How can you leave
When I want you to stay?
Tell me...
The 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.

"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.

Live Vs. TV

2005-08-28T23:27:00.000+08:00

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.

Blasphemous Rumors II

2005-08-27T13:36:00.000+08:00

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.

Blas-phemous Rumors

2005-08-25T22:48:00.000+08:00

"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.

Jologs Cellphone

2005-08-23T20:01:00.000+08:00

"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.

Pinoy Big Brother

2005-08-22T22:40:00.000+08:00

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.

Lin-tech Support

2005-08-21T03:37:00.000+08:00

"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!

Rescuing Darna

2005-08-20T21:31:00.000+08:00

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.

Devirginized

2005-08-18T21:47:00.000+08:00

"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.

Driving Issues

2005-08-16T08:14:00.000+08:00

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?

Something Fishy

2005-08-15T20:19:00.000+08:00

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.

The 3-Second Challenge

2005-08-13T15:06:00.000+08:00

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.

Pet Story

2005-08-11T20:29:00.000+08:00

"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.

Palusot Pa

2005-08-09T20:38:00.000+08:00

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!

Telenovelas

2005-08-08T21:11:00.000+08:00

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!"?!

Blame It On The Rain

2005-08-07T13:11:00.000+08:00

"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.

From Madonna's Material Girl:

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 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.

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.

Talents and Hobbies

2005-08-05T13:10:00.000+08:00

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?

Gummy Bears

2005-08-03T23:16:00.000+08:00

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?

An Invitation

2005-08-01T21:15:00.000+08:00

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.

Fashion Police

2005-07-31T14:59:00.000+08:00

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

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

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

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

I stopped chewing my food.

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

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

Apple Of His Eye

2005-07-30T08:52:00.000+08:00

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

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

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

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

Tonight is my lucky night, he tells himself.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

J was confused.

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

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

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

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

Oh shit!

Baby Names

2005-07-28T21:53:00.000+08:00

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

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

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

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

Chinky wasn't really pleased with the idea.

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

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

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

Welcome to the world, Imo.

Kulotology: Episode I

2005-07-27T22:12:00.000+08:00

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

Here's how it all began...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Anong kulot? Sinong kulot?

Yung bagong lipat dun sa bahay na yun o.

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

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

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

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

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

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

SONA (Fashion) Review

2005-07-25T22:24:00.000+08:00

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Morbid Tales

2005-07-24T13:43:00.000+08:00

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

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

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

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

I have some very weird friends.

FX Driver

2005-07-23T17:58:00.000+08:00

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She may have a point.

Saturday Fun Machine

2005-07-21T23:38:00.000+08:00

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Market! Market!

2005-07-20T22:19:00.000+08:00

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ayala Rally

2005-07-13T23:10:00.000+08:00

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

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

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

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

Take the campaign slogan posted on stage as an example.

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

How about this?

PAGBABAGO
NOW NA!
AS IN...

B Republic

2005-07-10T23:30:00.000+08:00

I am disappointed.

I am disappointed coz Ateneo lost.

I am disappointed coz Ateneo lost to La Salle.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

We are a B Republic.

Banana Republic or Basketball Republic.

Your choice.

Wonder Boy

2005-07-08T23:48:00.000+08:00

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hmmmm...

Wait.

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

That kid is not a kid after all!

It's none other than...

...Niño Muhlach.

Nyahahahahaha!

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

Nips Jingle

2005-07-05T17:27:00.000+08:00

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

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

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

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

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