Puckering Time

I was on my way home around 6 pm yesterday, and I find it odd that the traffic was heavy when usually everything should’ve been running smoothly by that time. The cause of the hyperventilation of many: this certain mayoralty candidate and his cohorts are putting up numerous tarpaulins and posters along the stretch of Molino road, covering all possible spaces with his face. What bothered me is the message imprinted on the tarps – it literally means that the people of Bacoor are clamoring for him to be reelected. I’m from Bacoor, my family has been staying here for more than 10 years now, and my hearing is excellent but I haven’t actually heard anyone clamoring for that person to run.

For a related literature, my friends and I went to SM Manila last Thursday when another unknown candidate was seen shaking the hands of people entering the mall – as if he really gives a hoot. This certain person grabbed with him a flock of sweating people in white shirts, and they too were shaking the hands of the unfortunate passersby. Their shirts said something like, “Mahal niya tayo. Vote (name)!” Excuse me, I don’t even know you as much as you don’t know me personally, so how can you develop an intimate relationship with complete strangers? Then along Mia Road near the Baclaran area I saw posters of one senatorial candidate who is the son of a former senator (hmmm) that says “No. 1 sa Bar Exams.” This declaration of supposed intelligence is one proof that they are the lowliest life forms on Earth. So you’re the top notcher, huh? So freaking and bleeping what?!? Do you suppose people would vote for you just because a) you’re uber-intelligent, and b) you’re the son of a senator?

I may have said this in my previous posts but I would like to reiterate it nonetheless. It’s a good thing that I haven’t registered for the May 2007 elections. I feel so free that I don’t even have to struggle thinking who am I going to vote for (position) because face it, there’s practically no one credible for such positions, so why care? It seems so obvious that those candidates planning to take a position in the government are just a bunch of mediocre creeps that did nothing but broadcast their own stupidity in national television. Then people who get to watch them become so impressed and teary-eyed at the professed wits of their bets they run to their respective precincts and jot the names of their equally moronic idols.

Then there’s the issue about suffrage that we should use our right to vote for whoever in whatever, abstain if you really can’t help but think about our bleak future, and if we don’t do it we let them win instantly – hell, they would’ve won anyway.

To all concerned, just use your head and be careful.

Is it possible to decapitate people with your mouth?

Last Wednesday at ATC I was looking for a cigarette stall when I remembered Fuma, which is located near Tony Roma’s and T.G.I. Friday’s. I politely asked the sales lady for a pack of Marlboro Menthol Lights whereas she looked at me with sheer perplexity and promptly posed my least favorite question on earth, “Ilang taon ka na?” I always forget that I’m already 19 because I’m used to always saying that I’m 18 years old. Anyway, since she inquired about my age, I retorted, “Uh, 18, ay 19 pala, sorry.” Then Apocalypse began. Well, almost.

The schmuck did not want to believe me when I said that I am 19. “Sigurado ka?” irking me further, at which point my blood pressure shot but I managed to stay calm. “Miss, I’m already 19. Do I have to prove it to you?” I said, keeping my voice down since it was only 11 am, and I wouldn’t want to see bodies lying on the floor.

“Patingin na lang ng ID.” I was off to a bad start. I should’ve walked out and bought my pack at the supermarket instead, but it was located at the basement. I didn’t have any choice – I produced my ID, but then butt-ugly wasn’t satiated. “Yung merong date of birth.” At this point I freaked out. Really. This is what I exactly told her: “That is so absurd! Alam mo, of all those times that I went to buy here, ngayon lang nangyari ‘to and you are the only one demanding for such!” I know, I know I was rude; I shouldn’t have done that but I was so freaking mad I could’ve burned her hair and it could only be an improvement. This is one specific instance when I’m unable to control myself; I am very unpredictable, and this same behavior has caused me a lot of trouble. I’m reminded of that song My Stupid Mouth, but in my case it’s more like My Impulsive Mouth. Also, whenever I’m confronted I’m given into speaking in tongues – no, in English. I remember Randy David when he was caught by the police at the height of the nation’s state of emergency. He said that in case any of us UP students are being harassed or caught by armed military or maybe the police, trumpet your rage at them in full English, like when they insist in grasping your arms even if you give in to interrogation, yell, “DON’T TOUCH ME (you disgusting lowly creatures – I added these; well, it can help)!” It would be likely that they’ll let go of you.

Some of you may be thinking that I’m harsh. Well, you first have to define harsh. Also, it may well occur to you that my reaction reflects my personal upbringing, especially because I’m from UP. For one, I was raised in a household that would most likely treat mosquitoes as pets, so that doesn’t count. Being a UP student does not necessarily mean that I’m bitchy, that we students are always on the opposing side of life. We do stand for what we staunchly believe in to the extent that certain rights are impinged, but that I think is the wrong thing to do. I’ve managed to become who I am right now entirely on my own, and I am not, as far as I could tell, impinging any human rights. Well, of course there’s this thing called influence, but the hell with that. Going back to the sales lady, I believe she’s just doing her job, which is to deny minors of cigarette purchases. I am definitely not a minor but she told me I was young looking that’s why she kept on cross-examining me. Young looking, I thought. Was that supposed to be a compliment?

You might construe it as a big deal. For a seemingly parallel story, it’s like this. You are about to enter an establishment at a mall. There is a security guard at the entrance. There are, say, five people ahead of you clutching their respective bags, and theirs is bigger than yours. They went to enter the store without having their belongings checked by the obnoxious guard – he waved them on. It’s your turn now, but then the guard asks you to open your bag for inspection. Wouldn’t you be appalled, much less annoyed? Out of six people about to enter the shop you’ve been singled out for inspection. Tell me there’s something terribly wrong with that.

I’d rather bitch out than to be a doormat.

Yeah, I got it from Powerbooks. It's very affordable. Then again, Powerbooks is the best specialty book store in the country, not because they have Java Man. Well, this is from my own point of view.

By the way, if you were at Starbucks SM MoA near National Bookstore and Watson's yesterday, I was the one uproariously laughing together with two of my friends. We were talking about how other nationalities (not the Koreans) become so filthy rich and yet they themselves become literally filthy. And stinking. Eeeww. Gross. And this is true. I've been at the point of fainting because of those darn F****h people walking right past me who seem to have no concept of deodorants. Hello, how about taking a bath at least once a day. Try it, it feels great. It's like achieving Nirvana.

I'll be there again tomorrow, round 4pm. Catch me if you can.

I am frequently chatted up by total aliens.

Yesterday while I was riding a jeepney on my way home there was this guy who kept on looking at me from the side mirror. Since I am not used to stare back at people I ignored him during the course of my journey. He was fat, maybe in his 30s or so, and he looked exactly like Grimace. For 15 minutes he kept on glancing at me, occasionally checking on his face at the top view mirror of the jeepney as if he's comparing something. Then the jeepney stopped for a while to unload some passengers upon which Bavarian Creme man muttered something to me. "Pare, nagwe-weights ka?"

What the.

I don't know what's up with that guy but he's definitely asking the wrong person. Check out my photos - do I look like I'm doing weights? Do you see rippling muscles on my arms? Do I qualify as a commercial model? Hello? Anybody there? If you answered Yes in any of the three, I think you need to consult a psychiatrist. I can cook up a lot of theories with that statement. Maybe that guy's so insecured with his own body he wished he had a body like mine, but why would he aspire for something...less? I've tried working out but it didn't help. Or maybe he's insulting me. It's also possible that he just wanted to make conversation, but his approach is so pathetic and uncouth I wanted to punch him right there and then. Of course if I did something as barbaric as that I would turn out to be the pathetic and uncouth. To put one quote into practical application, Never argue with a fool; people might not know the difference. Correct?

***

This time at the MRT. The train stopped at Boni Avenue to unload passengers, then from out of the blue I was chatted by a Korean who was standing in front of me. He excused himself which was good, and asked something in garbled English. Half the time I wasn't able to understand what he was trying to tell me, and I felt stupid. Then I figured out what he was saying: he was asking if Tapa King and Jollibee serve the same menu. Something similar to that. I told him that TK is different from Jollibee. He asked whether TK serves hamburger. I wanted to laugh but I just said No. Then the lady beside me retorted, "Tapa King? They serve beef there. Yes, beef. Dried. Under the sun."

The lady asked me further, "Anong nationality n'yan?"

"Korean ho."

"Ah, estudyante siguro."

After a minute passed Mr South Korea told me that he wanted to know different Filipino restaurants because his friend is going to arrive from Korea. Or at least that's what I heard. He added that he has been in the Philippines for two years now, which explains why he knows a bit of our language.

Me: " So, are you studying here?"

Korea: (transcribed) "No, I'm still applying for universities. I like La Salle and UE."

"Ah. Okay."

"How about you? Are you [a] student?"

"Yes."

"Really? From what university?"

"UP. Have you applied there?"
"No. For me UP is the most difficult."

"Not really. Actually, there a lot of Koreans in UP. You can also try at the Ateneo."
(A friend told me that studying in South Korea is much more expensive so that is why they're flocking over at our country mostly to study. True, a lot of Koreans are scattered all over UP. I've had three Korean classmates in just one semester.)

"Ateneo is too expensive. What are you majoring in UP?"

"I'm taking up Speech Communication. It's similar to Mass Communication."

"Ah, Speech Comm. You study language?"

"Partly yes, but I'm majoring in Broadcasting."

"Ah, broadcasting. Mass Communication."

At which point the train arrived at Ayala Avenue, and he went down with the rest of the crowd. This was something I don't usually do. Talking to strangers.

I’ve learned that life has many lessons to offer.

1. Be friendly. Try anyway.
2. But choose your friends. And the ones who will consider you as their friend. Wisely. That way you can save yourself from frequent rumbles, atrocious gossips, and hypertension.
3. Always prepare a load full of answers to philosophical questions courtesy of kibitzers, e.g. “Kumusta na kayo ni (name)? Nasaan siya? Kayo na ba? Bakit hindi?” And so on.
4. If you find yourself caught in an ambush interrogation by your peers, don’t panic. Act naturally, as if you really are looking forward to such a conversation, that you really feel comfortable talking about your personal whatnots to them even if you don’t, lest you’d be subject to speculation and name-calling.
5. It’s perfectly fine to blush in front of, say, 10 people. As long as they are your friends.
6. If you can’t find the right answer to certain questions, smile. If you want to deceive people into believing that you are not eyeing someone else, laugh. And if they don’t believe you, utter the crispiest cuss word so juicy it seeps in to their bones.
7. Never watch other people as they eat. It’s very disappointing.
8. Being a keen observer of everything noticeable is tantamount to violating certain human rights. If you can’t help it, do so with subtlety.
9. Always bring alcohol to sterilize your hands and Kleenex tissues for emergency dirt and grime wiping. Hankies won’t suffice.
10. Badger Highland Mint Lip Balm is the best.
11. Wallowing in self-pity would never amount to success. Boosting your self-esteem makes for a better character enhancement.
12. Feelings shape your destiny. Don’t box them and haul them away from you.
13. Cheesy and/or mushy text messages are annoying and lovely at the same time. They also make good tearjerkers.
14. Premiere is better than Frenzy. They’re thinner, and you have different styles to choose from.
15. Wearing board shorts is fun especially at night. They’re easier to slip off.
16. Never divulge your darkest secrets in online diaries. Just don’t.
17. Eating Pei Pa Koa candies can really enhance your voice, but an overdose would mean palate abrasions. And they’re painful.
18. Don’t be a hoity-toity especially when you are the less-than-zero type. You would end up a laughing stock.
19. Make it a point to pray every once in a while. God will give you favors.
20. The most beautiful grade is indeed 1.0. Tried and tested.

I just realized that it's hard to be surrounded by the filthy rich. Meaning, those who lurch out from their Mercedes-Benzs - yaya included, those whose skins seem to be untinted with melanin (thus making them prone to all sorts of epidermal diseases, nya ha ha), those people who whip out their gleaming credit cards to purchase everything inside an establishment. I'm beginning to get annoyed with them. I don't qualify as a filthy rich person - hello, I don't even have a yaya or a credit card to begin with, and I buy things with my hard-earned money - but I do get the stuff that I want. Fast.

Anyway, a while ago at Marks and Spencer ATC I was queueing up to pay for a body spray. There was a lady in front of me, wearing a sleeveless crimson top, a pair of beige slacks, and high-heeled sandals. She was clutching a green dress. She handed it over to the cashier, and I thought it was the only item she's going to pay for. I was wrong. I leaned over to my left just to find out that it was part of the 29 items she was purchasing. I wanted to say, "Can I just go first?" but I was such in a good mood so I waited for my turn.

Ten minutes had passed and the cashier was still removing the thing attached to merchandises that is supposed to trigger the alarm in case a shoplifter attempts to sneak out something. There were two POS systems in Marks and Spencer, and no one was operating the other. "Ma'am, it's P35,720 for 29 items," the cashier said, upon which the lady took out two credit cards from her vast collection in her wallet. "Just in case hindi gumana 'yung isa, etong AIG gamitin mo."

So much for "Patience is a virtue," I was going to pay for only one bleeping item worth P350. Finally another cashier personnel noticed that the queue is beginning to pile up, then she proceeded to smile, greet me Good Afternoon Sir, and asked for my item.

My transaction was finished in less than 30 seconds.

Every two weeks or so I have my hair cut. It doesn't matter where I would have it; the important thing is that I should look neat. And my concept of neatness means getting my hair properly groomed. My problem is that my hair grows verrry fast, and I consume huge amounts of hair gel every week. I spend around five to ten minutes fixing my crowning glory, making sure that every side is leveled with one another. Or else.

Speaking of hair gels, my Christian Living teacher way back in Senior High once told me that hair gels, spray nets, and other chemicals used for hair treatment can soften the skull, thus making it vulnerable to all sorts of the world's ickiness. She added further that once you get your skull to be in that state, the chemicals can seep inside your brain and can damage your system. I don't know about the accuracy of my teacher's statements, but it sure made me petrified for some time. But since I had no other way to keep my hair in place than putting on globs of hair gels, I'm still an avid fan of the infamous skull pounders. I've been using hair gels for almost nine years now, and I don't have problems with my brain case.

And there is also the problem of hair stylists. My friendly neighborhood barber is one of the greatest barbers available. I've been his customer for almost two years. Occasionally when I have extra money to spend, I sit inside Bruno's Barbers and let the stylist do his thing. Going Straight Salon and David's are also great choices, especially when they get to massage your scalp all the way to the back. Ooooh, I could almost feel it. All of these salons will charge you around 200 bucks, but hey it's worth it.

Friends wonder how I look like when I don't get to fix my hair with gels. I say it'll be the most horrifying day of their lives, more terrible than experiencing an attack of diarrhea in the middle of your Math exam. My hair would resemble a cloud or some kind of an exotic mushroom if you remove the hair gel in it, and you wouldn't want to see me in that state. I'd be homicidal.

By the way, I'd like to acknowledge Gatsby Mat and Hard for keeping me company, and also much thanks to L'Oreal Liquid Gel, Dep Sport Sculpting Clay, Dep Sport #10, Osis, and Alberto V05. All these products made it through the most rigid product testings under the harshest environmental settings possible. They're kind of expensive, but there's nothing more than keeping you from being paranoid. If you're kind of close-fisted, products from Splash could also do the same thing. All of them proven to be very effective. And I'm saying this without undue sarcasm.

Great. My Sharp laptop crashed in the most inconvenient time. I decided to use it to do tons of paper works today, then upon startup there was some unforeseen omen bringing forth doom's day prophecy:

"NTLDR is missing. Press any key to restart."

Because I'm a conformist freak, I did what the message told me. It turned out again. I hit another one, the Space bar. Nada. I tried Alt+Ctrl+Del, but it led me to nothingness. Now I will have to deal with my problem a little seriously because for one, almost all of my crucial files are stored there; if it turned out to be a hard drive problem, I will have to restart from scratch. I don't back up my files. I repeat, I don't back up my files. Anyway, that's just 2GB worth of music fi...les. Wait.

I'm waiting for the dealer to show up and fix the problem. For the meantime, if somebody could tell me what the message is all about, please. I'm desperate. My laptop's running Windows, and I can't use my Mac because Mac Office had already expired - and it's quite odd to use Appleworks.

And I still have lots of work to do. And I'm worrying about my music files. Oh, the ironies of life.

A lot of people have been looking for Giniling Festival's songs and their corresponding lyrics, and unfortunately they stumble upon this site. I'm basically not altruistic, but I felt your burdens people.

Here's the link for all the lyrics of Giniling Festival. And before I forget, I think you first have to be a member in their Yahoo! Groups site before you can access the link's contents. Try it anyway.