Jologs na Kung Jologs. Pakshyet.

I am now officially outed as a corporate jologs, thanks to this blog entry that showcases my appreciation (?!) of downright yucky lingo a.k.a. gross-ology.

Yep. To you, Rome, Sheila, Pink, Daniel, Joy, Ella, and the rest of you fellow corporate and freelancing jologs, feast yar eyes on the list. Exams next meeting.

Bawal magmalinis...baka tubuan ng weneklek.

Tada. The Tagalog Gross-ology Dictionary:

1. BAKTOL – ang ikatlong lebel ng mabahong amoy sa kili-kili. Ang baktol ay kapareho ng amoy ng nabubulok na bayabas. Ito'y dumidikit sa damit at humahalo sa pawis, madalas na naamoy tuwing registration sa school, sa elevator o FX at sa LRT na hindi aircon.

2. KUKURIKAPU – ito ang libag sa ilalim ng boobs, madalas na namumuo dahil sa labis na baby powder na inilalagay sa katawan. Maari ding mamuo kung hindi tlga naliligo o naghihilod ang isang babae. Ang kukurikapo ay mas madalas mamuo sa mga babaeng malalaki ang joga.

3. MULMUL – buhok sa gitna ng isang nunal. Mahirap ipaliwanag kungbakit nagkakaroon ng MULMUL ang isang nunal subalit hindi tlga eto naaalis khit bunutin pa ito, maliban na lamang kung ipa laser ito.

4. BURNIK – taeng sumabit sa buhok sa puwet, madalas nraranasan ng mga taong nagti-tissue lamang pagkatapos tumae, ang BURNIK ay mahirap alisin, lalo na kapag natuyo na ito. Ipinapayo sa mga may mga BURNIK na maligo na lamang upang ito'y maalis.

5. ALPOMBRA – kasuotan sa paa na kadalasang makikitang suot ng mga tindero ng yosi sa quiapo. Ito'y makipot na kasuotan ng paa, at manipis na swelas, mistulang sandalyas ito ng babae pero kadalasang suot ng mga lalaki, available in bl ue, red, green etc.

6. BAKOKANG – higanteng peklat, itoy madalas na dulot ng mga sugat na malaki na hindi ginagamitan ng sebo de macho habang natutuyo.imbes na normal na balat ang nakatakip sa bakokang, itoy mayroong makintab na balat na takip.

7. AGIHAP – libag na dumikit sa panty o brief. nabubuo ang AGIHAP kung ang panty o brief ay suot-suot na nang hindi bumababa sa tatlong araw at kapag tinapon ang panty o brief sa dingding, ito ay hindi mahuhulog pagkat dumikit na ng kusa sa dingding.

8. DUKIT – ito ang amoy na nakukuha kung kinamot mo ang pwet mo at may sumamang amoy tae.

9. SPONGKLONG – ito'y isang bagong wikaan na nangangahulugan isang estupidong tao.

10. LAPONGGA – ito'y kahintulad sa laplapan o kaya sa lamasan.

11. WENEKLEK – ito ang buhok sa utong, na kadalasang nakikita sa mga tambay sa kanto na laging nakahubad. Meron din ang babae nito.

12. BAKTUNG – pinaikling salita ng BAKAT-UTONG.

13. BAKTI – bakat panty.

14. ASOGUE – buhok sa kilikili.

15. BARNAKOL – maitim na libag sa batok na naipon sa matagal na panahon

16. BULTOKACHI – tubig na tumalsik sa pwet kapag nalaglag ang isang malaking tae. naramdaman ito kasi tumalsik sa pisngi ng pwet ang tubig sa toilet bowl.

17. BUTUYTUY – etits ng bata.

18. JABARR – pawis ng katawan

19. KALAMANTUTAY – mabahong pangalan.

20. McARTHUR - taeng bumabalik after mong i-flush…

Now, if you'd excuse me, I still have to change my YM status from Kukurikapu to "Busy at work".

To CCP and Beyond

Their discipline is the silent note in every song.

The Loboc children's choir, now considered as perhaps one of the best choirs in the world after having bested 12 choirs and garnering the highest point average of 97.5 at the Barcelona International Folksongs Festival, teamed up with the Pundaquit Virtuosi at the Cultural Center of the Philippines last January 6th for a fundraising concert entitled Light in a Million Mornings. Having missed their previous performances twice already (thanks to: [1] botching a long-planned trip to Bohol with Boni and Ella, and [2] missing their special concert at the San Carlos Seminary [where I was supposed to pose as a priest in order to gain entry to the said event!]), I decided it was high time I caught them performing and heard their voices "so pure and angelic, burst[ing] through the gathering silence and darkness of the tropical evening". When I saw their posters all over the office (and in some areas by Salcedo and Legazpi Streets), I immediately SMS'd the contact number for ticketing and booked me four tickets--one for me, one for Pink, and two for Sheila and Daniel.

Excitedly, all being lovers of chorale singing, the four of us met at Figaro beside CCP right after work. Sheila and I met first to grab a quick meal and then headed for Roxas Boulevard. It was a Friday and that was our TGIF gimmick. How cultured was that?! ;) We all queued up in anticipation, only to be frustrated at how high up in the theater we were positioned. At 300 bucks, all we got were four sorry balcony 2 seats; too bad for Pink and Sheila who were both kinda acrophobic. We all sat nervously (at the front row seats, so we could literally see the balcony below us!), waiting for the performance to start and hoping that there were no earthquakes waiting to happen.

The performance started promptly at 7pm. We were instantly in awe of the angelic voices, so perfect pitched and delicate, that for a few moments, we completely forgot the fear of heights. Their renditions of folk songs like Leron Leron Sinta brought back memories of my childhood.

I remember, being a high-pitched little boy at age 9, I was a soprano--yes, I KNOW it's a classification of WOMEN's vocal range, you dumb ass--in our school choir in Orion. That very same piece was the one that helped make us bag the grand prize at the 1986 National Music Competition for Young Artists Children's Choir Division...which qualified us to join the NAMCYA festival at the CCP, together with all other champions from different regions of the country. We were so proud in our waiter-like white longsleeves, yellow vest and black slacks ensemble, performing the same piece for the nth time to listeners from around the country. Even prouder were our parents who finished rolls and rolls of 35mm films--yes, digital cameras were still unheard of those days!

In high school, I "transformed" from soprano to tenor. Yep, still high vocal range, but at least more masculine that time around. And then in college, after passing the auditions as a Tenor 2/Baritone for the UP Singing Ambassadors, I knew I found my "real" voice...only for it to be reclassified yet again. After failing to reach high notes during vocalizations and rehearsals that night I lost my voice from a UAAP match earlier that afternoon, I tried out for Bass. I made the cut. From that night forward, I have always been a Bass 1/Baritone. And thanks to those vocal exercises, I can now confidently say that I have a sexy manly voice. Heh..heh...

By the time the performance ended, we were just either too tired from fighting the vertigo or too sleepy after being lulled by their divine singing (and the Pundaquit Virtuosi's, uhm, virtuosi), that we went on each other's ways and headed for home...with a CD of the Loboc Children's Choir in tow.

Barely one week later, I was invited by my friend Eugene, the musical director of the Philippine Philharmonic Orchestra, to watch the PPO performance that following Friday night. He gave me four complimentary tickets, and so I tagged along the three musketeers Daniel, Sheila and Pink yet again. By mid-performance, we were already slightly bewildered, as the type of music that the PPO played was those types used in the musical scores of movies such as Ben-Hur, The Ten Commandments, and the likes. You get the idea: not the typical orchestral music you'd hear playing in your cd changer during your yoga sessions.

The thunderous and foreboding sound of the PPO's music made us all hungry, as if we were actually IN the filming of The Ten Commandments, that we decided to grab a bite at Figaro with Rome and his girlfriend. Over cups and cups of lattes, chamomile tea (playfully pronounced as tsa-moh-meel by me to the waitress), and milk, and plates of pesto, salad, and garlic bread, we laughed like hyenas over Tagalog Grossology. It was all good.

Now, having gone through two different performances yet very similar in terms of discipline, it made me think: why haven't I made singing into a career, or at the very least PSEUDO-career? Or, why haven't I even picked up a violin and learned how to play it??? "Not enough time" just doesn't cut it for me. I swear, I should start walking my talk (because I actually teach time management, for crying out loud), and actually MAKE time.

This summer, I am officially enrolling at UP Diliman College of Music for intensive 2-week classical voice lessons. I know I already have the timbre, but I bet I could use some fixin' and fine tuning. Can't wait. Lalala...lalala... ;)

With Loboc and Philharmonic checked on my CCP to-watch list, it's now ZsaZsa Zaturnnah or bust!

Let's Kill 'Em Homos and Lesbos, Shall We?

Now that I got your attention, stay.

So there I was reading the entry below...and the comments that came with the original posting. Here is an excerpt of that.

I am not even going to comment or kvetch as much. I am way too enraged and still struck speechless at the bigotry and idiotic mindlessness of the writer. I feel sorry (and scared) for any offspring that this nincompoop will bring to the world.

And I quote...

Re: Dapat siguro... by ICEYES

i-exile lahat ng mga bading sa isang isla tapos dun sila magbaklaan all they want. At least, di sila makakaperwisyo sa mga normal na tao.

God only created Man and Woman, Adam and Eve, not Adam And Steve nor Amanda and Eve.

Ergo, Homos and Lesbians must be children of Satan..


My response...

Re: Dapat siguro... by shiaolien

o siguro dapat IKAW ang i-exile sa isang isla...dahil the world has got way too many bigots and idiots already. we could use a break from all the hatred, ya know.

it's still man and woman, in case you've gotten confused. it's just a matter of preference that's making a difference. after all, a gay guy is still, technically, a MAN, and a lesbian's still a WOMAN. now, if adam wants to suck steve, or amanda wants to fondle eve, leave them be. they ain't murdering you or anything.

do you still wear ku klux klan outfits, iceyes? just wondering...

And then his again...

Re: faggot's land by ICEYES

Just because I don't wanna be surrounded by homos and lesbians eh bigot at idiot na ako?. You can call me all the names you want but the fact will still remain, they are scums of the society. Especially dito sa Pilipinas, Christian country pa naman tayo tapos we let critters like those thrive here???

kaya dumami mga bading dahil sa "leave them be" na yan. Everyone is affected dahil sa mga abnormal na mga yun. I'll leave them be kung di ko naman sila nakikita or ng mga bata na maaaring maimpluwensyahan nila ng mga makasalanang "preference" nila. I really don't care, it's not gonna affect me if you're outta my sight.

Ilang bading na ba ang nanghalay ng mga lalaki?? mga bata pa kadalasan. Hindi ba salot na maituturing mo yan?

And my last one...

Re: faggot's land by shiaolien

yep. bigot. bigot. bigot. no doubt.

God. Somebody tranquilize me. Or shut this motherfucker up.

Manyak o Bakla?

I got this forwarded message a while back. It just bothered me that a fellow UP alumnus (er student?) wrote it. Back in my college days in UP, I distinctly remember having been surrounded by open-mindedness, impartiality and moderation, and, hell, civilization. Ignorance and intolerance was NEVER even a prerogative.

This straightforward unfair partiality gave me an overwhelming desire to amass all homophobes, monsters, idiots, mean-hearted individuals, and bigots from there, bind them in splintery abaca rope, throw them into the Atlantic, and forbid them from coalescing with my fellow Iskos and Iskas!!!

This is the article. Following it is a comment by a fellow reader, and then mine.

C.R. Para Sa Mga Bakla
ni tabachoi

Nagmamadali akong pumunta sa restroom kasi puputok na talaga ang bladder ko sa loob ng sinehan. Habang umiihi ako, may pumasok na bakla, tumayo sa tabi ng urinal ko na parang iihi. Di ko na lang pinansin kasi masarap ang feeling ng jumi-jingle pag masakit na ang pantog mo. Bigla akong napatigil.

Nakasilip yung bakla sa ari ko.

Langya. Filipino size na nga lang to, pagdidiskitahan pa. Imbis na silipan na lang yung mga foreigner na nagkalat sa mall, ako pa yung napagtripan. Ano pa nga bang magagawa ko nun kundi magmadaling mag-zipper at lumabas agad ng banyo. Bukod sa sama ng loob ko sa baklang manyak na yon, sobrang sama ng loob ko kasi hindi ko napagpag ng maayos si Junior.

Sana naman maisip ng mga baklang manyak na to na may lugar para sa kalibugan. Sana ma-realize nila na hindi pickup joint ang Men's CR ng sinehan. Kung gusto nila ng lalake, dun sila sa Roxas. O kaya dun sa Timog. Hindi porke convenient para sa kanila ang makapasok sa loob ng CR ng lalake, pwede na silang maging predator dun. Hindi ako papayag na gawin nilang safari ang Men's CR, sila ang mga leon, at zebra ang titi ko (wish ko lang, kasing haba ng titi ng zebra).

Naalala ko tuloy yung kwento sa akin ng officemate kong babae. Kakatapos nya lang mag-CR nun, naghuhugas na lang sya ng kamay, nang biglang may pumasok na bakla(transvestite) para mag-CR. Sobrang nag-freak out yung officemate ko. Oo nga nakadamit pambabae yung tao. Pero titi pa rin naman ang nakakabit sa kanya, at ang mga may titi, doon sa Men's CR.

Hindi issue dito ang sexual preference ng mga bakla. Hindi rin issue ang discrimination. Security ng mga straight ang issue dito. Kung hahayaang makapasok ang mga manyak na bakla sa mga CR ng lalake, mas malaki ang probability ng pag-commit ng invasion of privacy, tulad ng nangyari sa kin. Tsaka kung damit babae o kaya e pusong babae na lang pala ang prerequisite para makapasok sa CR ng babae, magdadamit babae na lang ako o kaya magbabakla-baklaan kung gusto kong mamboso.

Wala namang pinagkaiba ang baklang manyak sa lalaking manyak e. Parehong pwedeng magdala ng panaksak o kaya baril para panakot sa biktima. Gender lang talaga ng biktima nila ang nagkaiba. Yun nga lang, pagdating sa mga CR, protektado ang mga babae dahil may CR para sa kanila. E paano naman yung mga lalakeng may potential na maging biktima ng manyak na bakla? Ano ang proteksyon nila pag nasa public restroom na sila?

Nakakaawa ang mga bakla sa panahon natin. Tingin ko, ngayon lang talaga nagsisimula ang tunay na pagtanggap sa mga bakla sa Pilipinas. Dahil dito, wala pa talagang nae-establish na rules para sa tamang behavior ng pagkabakla. May mga current rules ang lipunan na talagang dapat nasa isang side ka ng border ng lalake at babae. Tulad ng simpleng rule na to: ang mga babae sa Women's CR tapos ang mga lalake sa Men's CR. Hindi excuse ang pagkabakla para i-bend ang rules na to. Since decision nila ang maging bakla, alam nila dapat ang consequence ng pagiging bakla. Hindi sila pwede sa Men's CR kasi ayaw nilang maging lalake. Hindi rin sila pwede sa Women's CR kasi hindi sila babae.

Gumawa na lang sila ng CR para sa mga bakla.

This was someone named MIKO's comment.

Merong hindi balanse sa artikulo na ito.

Mas madiin ang tingin mo sa KABAKLAAN kaysa sa KAMANYAKAN. Kung nagagalit ka dahil nasilipan ka ng manyak, ang kamanyakan ang dapat na kainisan hindi ang kabaklaan. Nagkataon lamang na bakla ang nandoon sa part na yon.

Under the same manner, kung nagkataon ba na BISAYA ang BAKLANG MANYAK na iyon, magrerequest ka rin ba ang CR para sa mga BISAYA?

Pilitin man na itago ang pagkiling at diskriminasyon sa artikulo nito, hindi ito nakayanan dahil sa paggamit ng iyong pananalita mahigit pa sa paggamit ng lohiko; nawala ang matinong punto.

I am an aids victim. Nawa ay wag naman na mayroon sa susunod na panahon, na hilingin para sa amin. Manyak man o hindi.

And this was mine.

Men's comfort rooms are for men. And we mean that in the biological sense, ergo mapa-bakla, manyak, o heterosekswal, pag may titi, sa Men's CR ka.

OK, I am also not for transvestites going inside ladies' rooms. But be it as it may, I seriously don't see any "bosohan" possible in cubicled toilet bowls (or is there???!). After all, last I remember, wala namang urinals ang mga CR nila.

And while I'm on the subject of urinals, pamboboso is such an overrated subject. If you saw my dick--be it intentionally or accidentally--that doesn't make me any less of a man naman, di ba? That doesn't at the very least offend me. Ika nga, you can look, you can drool (or laugh...what ever)...but you can't have it. Shempre, ibang usapan na yung HAWAKAN mo ang titi ko...o IPAHAWAK ko sa iyo.

Bottom line, tama si miko. Your issue isn't really about gay men, but of pagkamanyak. Siguro ang dapat na rekomendasyon mo, instead na ibang CR para sa mga bading, eh CR FOR MANIACS... that totally makes more sense to me, or at least in using your line of thought.

Making A List And Checking It Twice

First Monday of the year. Make that first WORKING day of the year. It's me and the whole team. I know, I know, we're supposed to be really busy, what with the new year having just entered: meaning, the 2006 Training Calendar would have to be finalized (or at the very least, updated)...as well as the other preparations for the upcoming big launching of a program called WOW Your World, and a couple others like Corporate Identity Cascading, Revisiting Our Values make-up workshop(s), and some new employee orientation on the side.

But with the post-Yuletide sloth still in the air, I couldn't help but be a great deal work-shy...at least today. I promise to work REALLY hard tomorrow. Cross my heart. (Nuninuninu...)

It's a New Year's tradition to be making a list of Resolutions. Y'know, those things that we promise to do or not to do in order to make ourselves better, new and improved, or simply different. It is almost always a futile attempt to change, since most (if not all) of these resolutions end up being given the sack way before they are even "rolled out". Kinda like a project that gets shelved due to lack of funds...or in the case of resolutions, lack of commitment.

So, let's see which ones of mine I will blue-pencil this year. Heh..heh...

1. Be more focused on my work. (I promise to start tomorrow. Really!)
2. Be more resolute in decisions, no matter how big or small the scale.
3. Spend more time with my family.
4. Read more (No, not Narnia or Harry Potter, you idiot. Those management or self-help books!)
5. Sleep earlier...than 12midnight!
6. Be more patient and forgiving.
7. Lessen impulse buying.
8. Save money in the bank!
9. Be more health-conscious (For Chrissakes, stop eating cups and cups of rice!)
10. Be more contented with what comes my way (or what I already have).
11. Regularly hear mass.
12. Clean up--squeaky clean--the house.
13. Write more. Start by finishing my fiction novel that I started in 2001.
14. Come to work earlier!!! (God, I'm so delinquent!)
15. Enroll in voice lessons or violin lessons.
16. Continue French self-lessons.
17. Be more modest.
18. Go back to being O.C. (Hehehehehehe)
19. Love. Love. Love.
20. Think less of my "misfortunes" and more of the blessings.

There. Keeping my fingers (and legs and eyes) crossed, till the last few minutes of 2006 are over.

Perhaps I should have this notarized...?

Seasons of Love

525,600 minutes. How do you measure the life of a woman or a man?

At 10:30AM yesterday, Floyd and I decided to head up to my condo's penthouse/roofdeck and take the plunge. Ohc'mon! Not that kind of plunge from the roofdeck!!! *gasp* I meant a plunge in the condo pool. So without even bothering to shower (ahehehe), I fished my technicolor tie-dyed beach towel from its hanger, grabbed my keys and mobile phone, and dashed to the elevator to go upstairs. In no time, we were shivering due to the cold, exceedingly-chlorinated pool water under the glorious morning sun (thank God for that tall building that blocked the blistering heat!) and the gusts of chilly wind.

A couple of minutes later, our quiet morning was invaded by little screaming Filipino-Japanese kids named Sato and company, all children of tenants of the same floor I lived in. Instantaneously, Floyd and I turned into Tatays and Daddys (especially to the little cute girl with the runny nose) teaching them how to swim (which was ironic, because Floyd doesn't know shit about swimming, and I can't swim too well either). A couple of screams and giggles and leaps of faiths later, none of them learned how to swim. Why was I even surprised?

As I was drying up by the roofdeck, my mobile phone beeped. Sheila was already texting me confirming what we were to bring to her house for our New Year's Eve party: greens for the salad, fresh basil for the pesto, and all the spaghetti noodles we can muster to bring (later on, we ended up with none of these, and instead brought 2 gallons of ice cream [strawberry-flavored and chocolate-brownie-flavored], sugar cones, and a bottle of wine). When I told her that we were out swimming, she said that she was jealous that she couldn't do that right that moment, and so I promised her a weekend at my condo with her and the kids (which, I'm afraid, won't happen anymore, as I am moving out in a couple of days).

After almost not catching Rustan's supermarket at the Shang in EDSA, we headed for Sheila's apartment in Sinag. We were greeted with the maddeningly good smell of food cooking...and even better, by the smiles of Sheila's kids, and of Daniel and Sheila. We immediately exchanged gifts (I got her the Free Bra--those brassiere types that cling to your skin without the aid of a strap [freaky, I swear!]--and some cookies for the kids, while she gave me a Tarot Card reading set [a book, the deck, and a DVD to go with it]) and commenced our usual chismis sessions (hehe).

Dinner was great. Since Floyd and I were able to bring a couple of leaves of fresh lettuce from Tagaytay (courtesy of a friend), Sheila and I were able to whip up a quickie salad. She tore up the leaves, tossed in some nuts and chicken (I threw in some kiat-kiat [it's those teenie-weenie oranges that you buy at the supermarket packaged in nets] slices and croutons). I likewise concocted my own vinaigrette with a Pinoy twist: calamansi instead of lemon, and just a wee bit of patis. Wasn't exactly your gourmet dressing...but still served its purpose. Aside from the salad, we also had an amazing carbonara, honey-glazed ham, fruits, queso de bola, and some REALLY yummy cheese puto! Good luck on my so-called diet...which can wait 'til after New Year...or maybe even Feast of the Epiphany *heh..heh*


By almost-midnight, we popped open the bottle of red wine and poured each one a glass to drink. we took rounds in giving our "wishes" for each other for the new year. Their wishes for me, in a nutshell, were: (1) that I'd finally be with THE one to share the rest of my life with (that kept my fingers--and legs hehe--crossed, because I'm hoping for the same thing), (2) that I find happiness, and (3) trust and peace of mind.

In the almost 525,600 minutes of my year 2005, I can say that I totally deserved those wishes. In retrospect, I've had: (1) nearly six failed quasi-real to substantial relationships, (2) a gazillion blind/set up/anonymous/casual/inadvertent dates, (3) a handful of heartaches, and (4) bucketfuls of lies, untrustworthiness, unreliability, and false pretenses. Yes, I could use a fistful of all those three wishes. Baaaadly.

I guess you can say that I didn't really have a good year. Or did I?

If my 2005 was measured in all those failures, then, yeah...it was a really bad one. But if I flipped and tossed aside the pains and heartaches and lies and trust issues, and instead counted the learnings, the "additions" and blessings, it was a rather memorable year.

Sigh.

Here's a look back at my year that was.

Got back to work. Joined a truly positive and supportive team in the organization. Had a condo of my own (or at least that to my name). Became a Pope (OK, OK...just the namesake!) Lost two mobile phones. Fixed up the house in Bataan. Turned 29. Dyed my hair. Got broke as ever. Branded "Official Wardrobe Consultant" of the company. Started this blog, and earned a decent following (and a handful of antagonists, too). Got sick and hospitalized twice. Enrolled in a gym. Had a friend die on me. Started hosting for weddings as a sideline. Bought electronics, jewelry, and other high ticket items because of sheer boredom or utmost depression. Officially became a Divisoria hardcore. Watched marathons of movies and soaps and sitcoms. Joined a fashion show. Got almost-dragged in Pinoy Big Brother screenings. Recorded a song. Rubbed elbows with Imelda Marcos. Got my big bucks from my employeer in the US. Danced like nobody's watching. Made my family feel that they mean the world to me. And met Pink.

My work here is done. I mean, my 2005 is done. And I'm good. No regrets.

It's 2006, and so far, so good. Happy relationship. Good health. New laptop. Moving in a 3-bedroom condo of my dreams. Great friends still around. Supportive and loving family. Work doing fine so far.

Yep. we're good to go.

Everybody And Their Mothers

Everybody and their mothers...and more.

Yes. That's how the crowd looked like during the recent World Pyro Olympics at the Esplanade in the Roxas Boulevard area: 'twas as if they brought everybody and their mothers to the event. And mind you, to say that the buong baranggay was there was to say the least. It was like EDSA People Power 1986 (or EDSA Dos 2001) all over again, only this time, 'twas totally festive and there were no uniformed men save for a few traffic enforcers and security guards.

The first two nights that I was there (yes, I'm a sucker for fireworks display...bite me), traffic was somewhere between semi-bearable and miserable. And without even caring which countries were participating in those respective days, I went to the event with Pink and didn't even bother going inside the venue where you have to pay a hundred bucks to listen to Orange and Lemons (and I think other bands) to perform Pinoy Ako of the famed Pinoy Big Brother reality show. After all, I've had my share of alternative and rock bands back in my UP days. We decided to just stand right in front of the gigantic brass globe outside the Mall of Asia a.k.a. superdooperovermegablockbusterhuge SM (which, mind you, is supposedly bigger than the Mall of America; and they said the Philippines is a poor country...third world my ass!), our umbrellas ready for when the slight drizzle turned into rain, and waited for the delayed show to begin. When the first of the many fireworks shot into the night, I started hollering and cheering as if it was the first time I ever saw fireworks. I was capturing it on video on my Nokia and 'twas practically my whoo-hoo's and yeeaaah's that dominated the audio of the video stream. And, oh, Pink and I kissed under the fireworks display and then sniggered right after we did it. Talk about "magic moment".

I missed day three, but not completely, because I was with my sister and Jasmine at Star City. They were visiting in-laws at Forbes and I decided to bring Jasmine to the carnival. Traffic was terrible that by the time I got there, Jasmine was already hungry, sleepy, and cranky. Well, so much for a fun carnival experience. At least after having tried the carousel (where the queue felt more like we were pigs waiting to be slaughtered), she finally lightened up. An hour and a half later, we were in a cab going back to Forbes where traffic was--whoohoo--still bad.

The last night of the competition was supposedly the best, considering 'twas going to be the finale, where all countries will participate and the Philippines, being the host country, will also take part. So we all decided to go--me, my officemates, friends, and acquaintances--and meet up at the venue at around 730ish. It was a legal holiday (Rizal Day) so I was coming from the condo. After much thought, I decided to just take my dinner at the Blue Wave instead of my condo, knowing full well that there's a plethora of restaurants and pitstops there to choose from. So as I was getting ready to leave, I got a chain of SMS messages from my "dates" for that evening saying that they were not going to go anymore, or that they will just try, or some other shit like that. Great. Talk about cowboys and INDIANS.

The cab driver I hailed had no idea he was going to traffic hell. So after merely 19 minutes from my condo to the CCP area, he was mortified to see the terrible congestion from the World Trade Center to Blue Wave. That strip, which normally takes about 8 minutes tops, took me 35 minutes. With my bladder threatening to explode and the vehicles moving about four centimeters every two minutes, I fished 150 pesos from my pocket (I didn't bring my wallet anymore) and dashed to the nearest toilet, which was still a 4-minute walk (I can only go in the john and never go on trees or walls!) and a lot of snaking through thick crowds. Thank God men's toilet almost never has long queues unlike ladies' rooms!

After I finished my business--and washed my hands, mind you!--I headed for the nearest restaurant. I almost had a coronary when I saw that ALL restaurants and pitstops were packed with hungry customers. Even kiosks and stands of Zagu or Lapid's Chicharon had winding queues, for crying out loud! After what seemed like forever in finding a place to eat, I rushed to Pancake House when I saw that it wasn't as packed like sardines as the other restaurants. I was ecstatic with anticipation for a warm meal...until the "lady guard" told me (and the rest of the other famished people around me) that they have decided to close the door to new customers. Perfect. I almost French kissed the guard when she said, as an aside, that take-outs are OK, however.

I ran inside and ordered what I thought what could be eaten with bare hands, with or without a table or a chair: tacos and fries. I waited outside and stole the guard's chair. While waiting, I called Nolet to pass time and catch up on what we haven't talked about in the last couple of days. While talking with her, a group of noisy ladies and kids sat beside me. I even saved a seat for one of the elderly woman because she had to go use the toilet. When it was my time to stand up and go fetch my take-out inside, I asked the same old lady to watch and save my seat while I'm gone. She looked at me as if she didn't know me from fifteen minutes ago, and said, "I can't save that because I don't have control over other people who might steal it". I almost picked up the damned chair and used it to whack her ungrateful and pathetic head.

After picking up my food, I decided I'd rather enjoy my food away from the ungrateful hag. And since the fireworks display venue was teeming with people in almost every nook and cranny, I spotted a free space in between two sedans in the parking lot. If I had a photo of me munching away the greasy, messy taco and soggy fries, I would have captioned it "Alone and Miserable". I was in that state when the first of the fireworks shot in the sky. I totally forgot the feeling of misery, and I felt happy again...but still wanting to whack that hag.

The display went on for about fifteen minutes, without us in the audience knowing which country/ies exactly were performing. When one fireworks display portion failed to give the tremendous oohs and aahs, an elderly Filipino man behind me commented, "Ay, panget. Siguro sa Philippines yan." What a sad commentary on the Philippines and the Filipino craft: just because it's ugly, amidst other countries, it is automatically taken as the work of the Filipino??? Sad, sad, sad.

By the second round of the fireworks display, which was about 30 to 45 minutes later, Sheila, Daniel, Jon, and the two kids have already arrived, thanks to the turtle-paced traffic from EDSA to the Esplanade. When the exhibition finally concluded, we all started heading for the main highway so we could hail a cab or a bus going back to Daniel's place in Libertad. If you saw the number of people headed from Esplanade to EDSA, the only thing it lacked was a picture of the sea parting in the middle, and you'd think you fell into a time-space warp and got thrown in the midst of the Israelites' exodus from the Pharoah. With no luck, we ended up walking aaaaaallll the way to Libertad.

Note to self: whack head for loving the fireworks display and hating the long walk.

Pakso Paskiw

It's only been about an hour after the Noche Buena following the Misa de Gallo, and the traditional raiding of the Christmas tree for presents. I still hear some movement upstairs as my parents, my Tabachoy sister, and my adorable niece Jasmine get ready to sleep. I, on the other hand, am still down here typing away on my laptop and editing photos taken on my sister's new digicam (I was just semi-bitching about how the settings were messed up when she loaned it to her in-laws, and that now I'm going to have to fix all photos in Photoshop [which I normally do anyway, hehehe]).

I stood up (but not without having to disconnect the dratted dial-up internet connection [God knows my mother's going to wig out once she sees our telephone bill] and saving the draft of this blog entry in Microsoft Word) to grab something to eat. Yes, I know. It's ONLY been barely an hour and a half from our last meal...but I was busy taking pictures and serving plates, so I'm not exactly full. Grabbed two bundles of suman and dinuguan, and briefly considered getting a small helping of arroz valenciana, Chinese ham, and quezo de bola.

As I prop my feet on the center table in the living room, my laptop idling in hibernate mode by the couch, the Christmas lights randomly blinking, and I nonchalantly wolfing down the suman dunked in the sinful dinuguan, I look around and see that the foot of our Christmas tree, which used to be chock-full with boxes and bags and envelopes of presents, is now almost bare (save for the remaining gifts for godchildren that might visit later today). It felt a little bit somber and a little bit nostalgic, but nevertheless heart-warming.

Earlier last night at the Christmas mass, the priest said something in his homily that made perfect sense. According to him, we Filipinos seem to be totally "hysterically excited" about the coming of Christmas: come September 1st, we start playing carols on the radio alredy; we start doing a countdown to Christmas; and we almost immediately start our Christmas shopping (and still end up doing last-minute panic-buying). Likewise, during the Christmas season, the Jackson 5 hit "Give Love on Christmas Day" seem to have an immortalization, i.e. people seem to be, well, kinder and nicer. We try and forgive or make peace with people that we've hurt or have hurt us; we invite almost-strangers into our homes and offer them at least a bite or a drink; we reconnect with people (especially relatives) that we practically ignored the entire year; and we take time to make other people's days. But right after Christmas (sometimes not even allowing the last of the observance of The Epiphany pass), we seem to revert to our old selves: grumpy, snobbish, self-righteous/-centered, insensitive, and mean. Why is that?


Is there a "Christmas dust" that goes with the cold breeze of the 'ber months that seem to soften us and turn us into better people? Are we like wind-up toys that will only set into motion upon getting wound up and pushed to animation? Do we really need Christmas to actually make us better, nicer, kinder, more humane people? Can we not hold on to the brimming feeling of love and kindness and generosity and optimism, and then nurture it within our hearts throughout the coming year and the next?

They say that Christmas is just for kids these days. It's actually them who will be waking up early later on today, dressing up in their newly-bought clothes, tagging along their parents and guardians to go with them to visit their godparents, and hopefully get heaps and heaps of crisp peso (or dollar/yen/euro!) bills as aguinaldo. No wonder children "own" this holiday. It is during this time of the year that they feel that there are other people that love them, care about them, and that will watch over them. Who woudln't want that?

Obviously, I am way past the age when I'd be considered "a kid". But deep down, I wish I could have all of those things that children have: the love, caring, peace, and joy. This Christmas, there is nothing more that I want than peace of mind, patience, kindness, and lots and lots of love.

Joyeux Noël.

Kvetch Bonanza

'Tis the season to be jolly my ass.

Below are things that annoy me...or at the very least get me stumped. In my last few hours and days prior to Christmas and New Year, I say we kvetch away, and throw these negative vibes out the window one last time.

1. Albino lights. Yes, those bright white headlights that new cars and SUVs have, that seem to be in perpetual flare at night...especially when you are being tailgated. I swear, if given an opportunity, I'm going to snatch the damned driver off his seat, tie him to an industrial chair with nylon rope, yank his eyelids open, and make him stare at his own albino lights for a full hour. Let's see who'd be cursing at the lights.

2. It's a Guy Thing. You know those just-peed men who do not wash their hands? Uhm. Hello? As long as you do not shake my hands or handle my food, we're cool. Another guy thing that blows me away is this: men who maneuver their dicks in public (you know the drill: left hand on the fly, right hand goes for a dive all the way down the crotch, reaches for his member and moves it around...and there it is, the classic "kambyo"). Man, I am not shaking that hand.

3. Obviously trying-hard and faux American accent. Yeah, like, ohmigosh, uh-uh!!! In the midst of the current call center explosion, we are now officially surrounded by enculturized and "alienized" Filipino-turned-pseudo-Americans. Babe, you're with us Pinoys outside of your work shifts (assuming we'd get to hang out in the evenings, when you're usually working hard), so cut the twang. Unless, of course, you REALLY do sound like that. And in saying this piece, I'm not just talking of the call center accent. I'm also referring to the overrated kolehiyala twang. You're so, like, gosh. Please stop. My ears bleed.

4. Unisex greetings. You've ever been inside a mall or restaurant and you--as a single, individual male or female with no companion--were greeted with a "Good evening Mam/Ser"??? Somewhere in the middle of reading their training manuals and the actual implementation, these poor individuals were never really told that the slash in the "Ma'am/Sir" means "or". Why, thank you, Mam,Ser.

5. Ad nauseam conversations. When I say "no", it means no. When I say "yes", it's yes. When I tell you that it's "X", don't be automatically thinking that there's a Y or an XY; or a hidden agenda. If you won't take my word for it, then don't be too pesky. It ain't cute. Or would you like me to repeat it again twice for the second time around once more from the top?

6. Murphy's Law. Duh. Who likes this shit? Ever been in snail-paced traffic on your way to work...and running late, for that matter...or perhaps having diarrhea, and REALLY needing to go? Or your desktop pc acts up when you're like 5 minutes from a deadline? Or ordering all the not-available-just-for-today items on the menu when you're famished? Or rain pouring right after you're pulling out of the car wash? Bad luck. Irony. Baaaaad, Murphy.

7. SMS dates. Ever had a date who almost never really talked to you the entire date, but instead kept texting on his/her phone? He/She doesn't like you. Excuse yourself...leave. But please text him/her on your way out that you're walking out on him/her.

8. Know-it-all dates. Or what about the date who yaks about their accomplishments, travels, properties, trivial information, and other 411's you didn't need or want to know on date #1...WITHOUT YOU EVEN ASKING. Babe, don't they ever shut up in your planet?

9. Never mind folks. When people start their statements with an enthusiastic "Ohmygod!" or "Can I tell you something?" or "Uhm...I was thinking...", and then, just when your attention's focused on them already, they'll say, "Never mind". WTF???

10. Body odor. Jesus. Ever heard of deodorants? It's those things you roll under your pits to keep 'em dry.

11. Coffeeshop junkies. Let's face it. Coffee is good...in MODERATION. And if you must stay in Starbucks or Seattles or Coffee Bean or Figaro with just a teenie weenie cup of espresso or latte that you've emptied almost two hours ago, please pound it in your inconsiderate heads that there might be other people waiting for a damned table. Get another cup! You're not helping coffee sales by just displaying yourself on the windowpane.

12. Picky cab drivers. Since when were cab drivers given the advantage of choosing their passengers and their destinations??? This is so Studio 54, except instead of getting picked because of your connections or looks or sheer appeal, they choose you if they FEEL like picking you up. Mister driver, if you never planned on fetching and dropping people off their destinations, DON'T be a cab driver. Go plant rice or something.

13. Fat women wearing body-fit clothes. Whoooooa! Love your confidence. Hate your look.

14. Discrimination at its best. Ever been given a suspicious look at US or UK or French Immigrations? Yes, it's your green passport. Or forced to be packed like sardines in the back trains of the LRT1 even if the first two trains are uncrowded. Yeah, cuz you're not a woman, you poor perverted man. Or those stupefying dress codes. Went to Pier One Bar and Grill at Roxas Boulevard a couple of days ago. First time there. As we were reserving for a Smoking Area table for five, I saw the dress code: "Casual but fashionable"..."No rubber sandals allowed". Ohmygod. Was there a fashion police inside? And shit, my sandals were Birkenstocks! I spent four grand just to be discriminated against? Please.

15. Free annotators in movie houses. Have you ever sat through a movie--no matter how interesting or boring it may be--beside anannotator? It's those pests that either tell his/her seatmate (with no realization that his/her voice is as loud as a megaphone on full blast): (a) what's going to happen next in the movie, (b) what's the scene about, as if the other person does not use his/her brain to understand it him/herself, (c) what he/she found interesting in this part of the movie, (d) a side-comment about a character (e.g. "This girl is sooo maarte" or "Ohno, ito yung masamang loob!"), or (e) "Ohmygod, don't miss this part!". Beware peeps. If you ended up sitting beside me, you better know how to annotate about chatty moviegoers' hairs getting drenched with Coke.

16. Blog Peeping Toms Turned Editors/Critics. You know how your blog's out in the open, up for grabs, free for all? If you're going to start bitching about inconsistencies in my entries, or have a leisure pursuit of proofreading 'em for typos or grammatical slip-ups, remember these things: (1) I ain't writing for you...I'm writing for nobody in particular; (2) If I wanted my entries to be immaculate from errors, I'd work for a major paper or magazine and hire me an editor; and (3) Geesh. Get a life. Write your own blog and stop whining.

Just Like Heaven

Watched the movie Just Like Heaven last night with Pink, Chrissie and Maita. Almost didn't catch the movie because of some things:

1) postponed watching it for a bittersweet, now-funny-and-then-poignant-later movie, "Ang Pagdadalaga ni Maximo Oliveros";
2) earlier scheduled trip to Bataan, i.e. on the 21st;
3) a last-minute decision to purchase a cheap-ass American Home microwave oven (for just P2689.00!!!!) to bring home to my folks for Christmas; and
4) the bad-ass traffic (we had to walk to Greenbelt 3 from my condo in Santillan!).

Got to Greenbelt at 720pm, ten minutes from screening. Still had time to grab a jumbo tumbler of barbecue popcorn, large strawberry-flavored lemonade (yum yum), and still made it to the little boys' room to tinkle. The house lights were just starting to dim when we reached our seats, and the movie trailers started showing (and me practically woofing when the trailer of Narnia was shown [I am SO going to hoard all the tickets to the first day's screening, so I'd get the entire theater to myself on it's showing!!!]).

The movie started with Rheese Witherspoon sitting on an orange industrial chair in the midst of a divine garden of spring flowers, with Katie Melua's remake of The Cure's song "Just Like Heaven" (an even more divine rendition, I must say!) playing in the background, as she closed her eyes and mesmerized the dream. I'd say the experience was blissful to me, too, because the whole time the scene was playing, I was holding the hand of the love of my life. =) (OK, enough mush)

The premise of the movie wasn't exactly new and extraordinary, nor was it an attempt to be intellectual or "artsy", but for a chick-flick, this is a really feel-good (and yes, some mush involved, too) one: unattached, way-too-busy-with-work girl dies (unknowingly) and haunts her old apartment's new tenant (who's a guy hung up with his previous relationship's tragedy), and ends up falling in love with each other...and in some freaky twist of fate realizes that they were, indeed, destined to be together.

Yeah. Like that happens. Well, at least not to me. Argh. So much for soul-mates, destiny kind of bullshit. Anyway...

OK. This whole prelude's got no relevance whatsoever to this blog. I just wanted to post the lyrics of "Just Like Heaven"...so read on.

“Show me how you do that trick,

The one that makes me scream,” she said

”The one that makes me laugh,” she said

And threw her arms around my neck

”Show me how you do it,

And I promise you I promise that

I’ll run away with you

I’ll run away with you.”

Spinning on that dizzy edge

I kissed her face and kissed her head

And dreamed of all the different ways I had

To make her glow

“Why are you so far away?” she said

”Why won’t you ever know that I’m in love with you

That I’m in love with you?”

You

Soft and only

You

Lost and loney

You

Strange as angels

Dancing in the deepest oceans

Twisting in the water

You’re just like a dream

Daylight licked me into shape

I must have been asleep for days

And moving lips to breathe her name

I opened up my eyes

And found myself alone…alone

Alone above a raging sea

That stole the only girl I loved

And drowned her deep inside of me

You

Soft and only

You

Lost and lonely

You

Just like heaven