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Puckering Time

It's now or never.
 

The pretentious vs. The portentous

Friday, June 29, 2007

Let's all get real. No matter how gorgeous or silly people seem to be in front of national television, screaming and wailing and smirking and boogering and whatever, it's just one crappy idiotic program. Haven't you noticed anything suspicious? Even in the first editions of the shitload, one can easily notice it, if you are a keen observer. Those people claim that they act so "naturally" that the environment was so conducive to bring out the ripe time to express their true emotions, their authentic human nature, ha. Pure blah.

I don't watch the TV nowadays but still information seem to bludgeon me like a 50-pounder mallet on my skull. Haven't seen it on TV, but my ears shall hear every single utterances of mad fanatics from hell, narrating in full color the pernicious evilness of this famous personage from an equally famous "reality TV" show, of how this vile woman acquired her unruly behavior, blah blah blah.

There is this principle stating that the behavior of a particle is altered by the mere presence of an observer. In layman's terms, the presence of a gazillion cameras inside every single corner of a bungalow can make you behave in your most unnatural manner. You don't normally pick your nose in front of many people - unless you have the habit of doing so in public, you are gross- and you simply can't raise a finger and cuss like a pirate in front of millions of viewers, lest you'd be summoned by the powers of a Guardian and strike you and your idiotic program dead - how I wish it would happen. And do you think you can poop inside the john when an HD camera is focused on your twitching face?

Why spend hours raging like some manic-depressive lout over an emasculating bitch (but honestly I personally find her cute)? Why lacrimate gallons on someone who doesn't even give a blasting fart on your hapless face when in fact s/he is just concerned with your money? Why even rivet your eyes every single night and spend vast sums of money in order to get yourself updated with the senseless lives of non-famous celebrity wannabes - has-beens is probably more appropriate. Or the most appropriate term.

Like I said, get real.

Pornucopia

Tuesday, June 26, 2007

I am all for freedom of speech. And for this I will talk about the reason why I almost brought forth the Great Tribulation in my household. The culprit of the seemingly innocuous offense that most people put into test during times of idleness. That little piece of stretchable thingy which had been said to fit all thinkable mass and bulk – talk about free sizing. Yes, the one thing that people have been trusting for years, the rubber that brought couples into a massive frenzy, the premier latex that claims to be the safest contraceptive available for it doesn’t present the user with problems much less to the recipient of primordial beastly activities.

Yesterday when I made an appearance at the AS Walk I saw a girl friend reading I think the latest issue of the FHM Ladies’ Confessions. She was so enthralled in perusing the magazine’s content I thought of keeping a safe distance from her, lest she wraps herself around me barring any attempt of struggling to catch my breath. But since I was also curious about the brouhaha that the magazine offers, I took a quick glance over it. There were different stories revolving on a single topic: s_x. (Newsflash! You can’t read anything in FHM other than the three-letter word) I flipped over the first few pages and found a short quiz, something about social lifestyle stuff that relates everything with…condoms. Isn’t that funny, you are given a test on how well you perceive yourself in a social situation and associate your answers with latex. I did not take the quiz because it requires me to take out a pen and a paper, but I fondly remarked about the mint Frenzy condom on the glossy opposite page. Then this girl friend who was three inches away misheard me. I said,

“Mint talaga iba.”

She retorted,

“Mint? Nagko-condom ka?” Then she laughed the afternoon off.

She kept on snickering about the way she stupidly misunderstood me, and was obviously pointing out that she was right. The thing is, I just didn’t see where the fun was, especially in the “…nagko-condom ka?” part. Another friend jumped in the conversation, asked who the condom user was, and said, “Bakit, okay nga ‘yun eh. May protection.” I was so glad that someone was on my side.

I have used a condom thrice. It was not paranoia that triggered me to wear one; honestly I just wanted to experience wearing it during s_x. A pack of Frenzy costs 20 bucks and contains three packets. I chose mint over orange and banana for some unknown reason. The first time I got to try it was way back a year and a half ago when I was still having flagrant affairs with a girl who I didn’t know could make lives more miserable than what I could inflict. As I like reading, I took time to read the instruction guide. The directions said that it should be worn before having s_x, that there is a proper way to unroll it down to the shaft (which I successfully accomplished), that once I have climaxed I should remove it as soon as possible so that it won’t get stuck inside the girl. If you thought I did not have much fun because I seemed to rationalize things, dash your hopes because I enjoyed every minute of mashing, squeezing, and all assortment of s_xual movements but for two major obstacles: 1) although I am very much confident with my size, the scented rubber kept on sliding from the shaft, and 2) I felt a bit of numbness basically because the condom went to cap the sensitive parts of my dick. A friend of mine also had the same experiences that I underwent, and he rattled off a brand that is known to be the thinner variety which has dots and ribs. It is a bit costlier than Frenzy but he said I’d feel much better. “It’s like doing it without the hassle of it,” he gleefully exclaimed over a Menthol. So I got to try the brand with that girl again. It was – how shall I put it – better with less insensitivity, but it was so thin I thought it would get ripped inside her due to friction, and the thought of bursting the condom after climaxing also bothered me. But do you actually think that I was contemplating these during the course of the activity?

My professor in Gender and Sexuality – which I was inclined to think that the subject really was s_x education – did a study on condoms, and he told us that he knows how to put one without even touching the rubber or your manhood. He went to the Netherlands, I already got my class card, and I broke up with my girlfriend. My prof never mentioned about it again. Aaargh.

Backstabber!

Saturday, June 23, 2007

I'm taking up Geography as my general education (GE) subject this semester. Funny, I don't even see the connection of me being a Communication major, and “the study of the location and distribution of living things and the earth features among which they live.” (World Book Encyclopedia) For those who can’t relate, in UP, due to the advocacy of academic freedom, a student can choose his own course subjects as long as they will satisfy the curriculum that which a student follows. My friend Anne and I chose to take up Geog1 because a) we still lack one GE subject under the Social Sciences domain, and b) we desperately need to have a subject that we enlisted in Geog1 in order for us to compress the century-long enrolment process in one day. We know it was a spur-of-the-moment decision, but it was worth the haste. We got one of the great instructors in Geog1 who reportedly showers students with lovely 1.0s – as long as the student deserves it.

As always the subject isn’t really about Geography or the professor. It’s about me. Last Tuesday the professor engaged everyone in a very exhilarating game called Backstabbing. The mechanics of the game are as follows. You get a piece of paper (one-half crosswise!), masking tape, and a pen. Tape the paper at your back. The rationale of the game being, your classmates will write something on this paper, and this something would be their impressions the first time they saw you smirk on their faces. Then start hunting down people, try to figure out what you think of them, and write it down on the paper at their backs. In return of a favor, you let them write on your paper. It’s hard to carry out such a task, especially if you’re the type of person who doesn’t give a fart to strangers, much less give first impressions. There is also the problem of running out of the appropriate adjectives, and you end up copying other people’s description for that person, and the problem of puncturing the paper while you’re scribbling notes and your pen’s ink oozing and blotting on the shirt.

After 10 minutes or so, we were asked to settle down and rip the paper off from its most strategic place so as one will not see what other people have written on it. I got 23 people to describe me, and majority of them wrote seemingly positive expressions. Anne called me “suplado (snobbish), ha ha. She told me beforehand that she thought I was the most snobbish person on Earth that she dared not to talk to me during the first few days of our stay in UP; now we’re partners in crime. Others wrote deluding stuff like “cool,” “nice,” quiet,” “mabait,” and “friendly.” There are some who are a bit advanced: “smart,” “intelligent,” “matalino,” “masayahin (fun-loving),” and “gentleman.” Ha ha ha!

And of course there were some chosen ones because they prompted me to think. One wrote “mukhang walang sakit (looks healthy).” I wonder why s/he referred to me as “mukhang walang sakit,” although in the interest of fairness there must be a profound look that pompously says that one appears unhealthy. Judging from my physical attributes I am indeed healthy because I weigh 123 pounds which is relatively proportional to my height, 5’8”, and I don’t feel any bad vibes invading my insides and distorting the internal processes of my organs. There is also the phrase “everybody’s guy.” Someone must have mistaken me for Mr. Congeniality because I was laughing so hard with everyone else including our professor whom I jokingly asked if I could also write something about her. Then again I believe in the adage, Looks deceive; I probably seem to be misleading. Or as Anne so cleverly puts it, “Bugaw ka raw, Mike.” And of course my list wouldn’t be complete without the omnipresent adjective to properly describe me, “sunget (grouchy).” It doesn’t take much of a keen discerning mind to say that I’m a cranky person. In fact, majority of all acquaintances I’ve met had the same idea as to describe me as such. I feel no consternation, skepticism, or whatever; more likely I feel elated than totally annoyed.

Do first impressions really last, or do they just settle in your subconscious, collecting cobwebs and whatnot and waiting for the end user to make use of them? Though you haven’t actually met (except for those who know him personally), what do you think of the author the first time you’ve read his blog? Does he resemble a blood-sucking sharp-fanged salivating beast that divides into two, or the boy-next-door type, respectful to all humanity, and who can inadvertently bring hordes of the female species to kiss his (un)virgin bleep!?

Does the author really exist, or is he just a figment of one’s imagination brought to life by a human being?

Being myself, perhaps.

Tuesday, June 19, 2007


My mind was not in a very terrific shape a few days ago – I might have left parts of it somewhere during the course of our spontaneous traveling to different itineraries, or maybe I have misplaced a figment of my pink runny organ in someone else’s pockets. I also feel slightly disoriented, having been exposed to different levels of boredom that led me to engage myself and another human being of the opposite gender to a life-altering genetic experiment which was haphazardly intended only for sheer fun and excitement. Our once happy unadulterated selves led to an almost schizophrenic degree of paranoia when she just recently announced to me that she got delayed for almost three weeks, upon which I bullied inside the nearest Watson’s outlet to get her pregnancy test.

Negative.

And so I continue to breathe deeply. Never in my life have I felt so thankful that I was still given the chance to inhale the noxious gases of Edsa because if everything went out of our ways, both of us would’ve been dead now, figuratively and probably in a literal sense. But since the two of us managed to get ourselves out of the trouble we gratefully hatched in the first place, everything is back to normal. Moral lesson: Never, ever employ fussiness when latex is concerned.

I was tagged by Vinch way, way during the Pre Cambrian Time to do this meme. Democratically speaking, giving out counterexamples is not my thing, but since I want to do something entirely different - and because I badly need a break – I decided to share weird stuff about myself. At least I know it was me. I was asked to do six, but I’d be giving out seven.

1. I would be the last person on Earth to eat lychee. I’ve had a horrible experience with the vile fruit, and it still follows me around like some idiotic sales person. Lychee for me is the equivalent of durian for some, and ampalaya for the entire human race.

2. On the average, it takes me at least three hours to buy just one pair of frigging shoes. The longest time I consumed was five, which took a lot of shuffling from three different malls because I am very particular with quality and performance. And my close friends have vowed not to accompany me for obvious reasons.

3. I incessantly nibble my fingernails. I don’t know, I’ve been doing it since I was a kid, and the knowledge of it being unhygienic doesn’t stop me from gnawing my nails until I get to feel a tingling pain. Call it an obsessive-compulsive condition.

4. My favorite cartoon character is Squidward Tentacles from SpongeBob Squarepants. His vocabulary is intense and broad plus he’s frigging sarcastic. Kind of reflects my own personality. Kind of.

5. In relation to number 4, my favorite human being is former Senator Miriam Defensor-Santiago. Whenever she gets featured on TV I leave everything I’m working on and hook myself up on the screen. She may have this profound look that suggests dementia, or at the very least a mild case of constipation, but she’s the model figure I look upon because she rattles off words and quotable quotes very impressively, and I rest my case for that matter.

6. I don’t know how to carry a baby. My cousins have been attempting to encourage me to try holding cute wittle coo-coos but they always fail. I feel so nervous whenever I have this urge to carry a baby; I fear that they’d slip from my arms and drop dead on the concrete. My mom once offered to give me free baby-holding lessons with my cousin’s baby. She said I will just have to grab the butt and clutch the baby in his/her arms into my arms close to my chest. I took one look and declined.

7. I’m not a Harry Potter fan. As a matter of fact, I haven’t read any of J.K. Rowling’s Harry Potter book series, much less the movie versions. Firstly, my attention span is very short. Secondly, I hate reading books which are a kilometer thick. Thirdly, everyone’s reportedly chummy with Rowling and Harry Potter, and I have this weird compulsion not to be like everybody else. Fourthly, I haven’t got much time to enter movie houses recently because I have got no spare time to do so. And fifthly, I just don’t like Harry Potter because a) some idiot proclaims that I look like him on the grounds that we both wear eyeglasses which makes it the shallowest of all possible means of comparison, and b) I don’t like him for simply being Harry Potter, period.

I could’ve added 8. Being myself, but I think I would be stating the obvious.

Dingdingdingding!

Friday, June 15, 2007

A - 1 point

B - 2 points

C - 3 points

D - 4 points

39 out of 48 points. Jhed, you won for yourself P500 worth of Starbucks gift certificate. I know you can afford to treat yourself more than what the GC could offer, but don't you like freebies?

Please email your contact details at icebucks@radio.fm as soon as possible so I could have it couriered by next week.

More than being igneous

Monday, June 11, 2007


Kids, when your parents start giving you lectures on how they work so hard to the bone in order to give you allowances for you to splurge on gold-plated slippers, expensive caffeine fixes, designer clothes unknown to the whole population, and beverages that effectively pickle your livers, don’t ignore them.

Just don’t.

I am not yet a parent but I just feel like I am going to be one soon.

Life is like a rock, it’s hard. As of press time it’s much tougher than what I think.


***


Instead of today, results of the Buddy quiz will be unraveled on Friday, June 15 2007. The highest pointer will receive a prize courtesy of, well, me. Winner will be notified via his/her respective blog.

Those who are planning to change their answers, I’m sorry but I have all your answers, nya ha ha.

Buddy

Friday, June 08, 2007


Friend. As that sickening quotation metaphorically puts it, No man is an island – unless, of course, you’re a hermit who has found solace having conversed with Mother Nature, and inhabits the most conducive places for solitary residency, the mountains and the caves. I could always have hysterical conversations with people who I barely have an inkling about and become friends with them, but I could also dismiss them as nothing but purely insignificant creatures. But generally I’m definitely not choosy when this topic arises in the middle of a soul-deadening boredom. But in the interest of fairness, it’s inevitable that we impose certain standards in picking the people who we want to hang-out with. These standards may include some basic stuff in life like common interests, the school of thought we dwell upon, the academic institution we belong to, how thick or thin our wallets are, stuff like that. For this matter I would like to include my favorite standards: attitude and behavior.

These two are basically the same bananas; if I’m not mistaken, the latter is something observable and the former is quite unpredictable. There are certain attitudes and behaviors that are definitely not condonable. But I will digress. Some people find me offensive. I don’t know, it could be due to the words coming out from my mouth. There was an instance that I was with new acquaintances when I kept cussing in front of them not knowing that these people have a bit of sensitivity in the ears. Which explains why the group occasionally fling themselves upon the nearest onrushing car at the sight of my presence. On the other hand, some people find me interesting and amicable (interestingly amicable, amicably interesting). The reason behind this I have no idea, but I never had problems with them.

I have prepared a simple quiz for you, potential chummies, to find out whether you are entitled to a lifetime membership in my Friend(ster)’s list. Answer as honestly as you can.

1. You are at home on a Wednesday. Checking out your to-do list you basically have no pending task to accomplish. Majority of your friends is either at school or has a prior commitment with someone or something else. You will

a) study your lessons and prepare for the next day’s grueling discussion in school.
b) hook up the Mac and fire up Safari to surf (or a PC and Internet Explorer).
c) go to the malls, treat yourself to the finest restaurants, and walk aimlessly until you pass out from sheer loneliness and boredom.
d) sleep and catch very serious z’s.

2. A message materialized in your phone. It’s your ex girlfriend (or boyfriend if you’re a girl or something) inquiring you about your life after that horrible breakup. Her message seems to convey something as if she wants to be with you again. You still feel resentful with her, and suddenly you remember everything she had done against you. You will

a) reconsider her and see if you could still work something out from that murky relationship in the past.
b) reply and tell her that you’re okay, and ask her the same thing.
c) respond but immediately digress the topic to a seemingly more interesting stuff.
d) ignore the message.

3. There’s a beggar in front of you with his arms outstretched asking for alms. You will

a) feel sympathetic and give in to his simple request.
b) blame the government for its obliviousness to poverty and contemplate on being a politician.
c) ask other people to help the poor beggar.
d) roll your eyeballs heavenward and proceed to your destination.

4. You can’t live without

a) food.
b) water.
c) air.
d) sex.

5. If you were to be reincarnated in the next life you would want to be a/an

a) rock.
b) cockroach.
c) amoeba.
d) all of the above.

6. The best artist/band in town that you look forward singing with is

a) Yasmien Kurdi.
b) Willy Revillame.
c) Cueshe.
d) Up dharma Down.

7. Friends declare that smoking is a bad habit. In fact they said that studies show that it is the second placer in the most numerous ways to kill one’s self. You are a smoker. You will

a) consider their scientific litanies and quit smoking.
b) feel guilty and try to stop little by little.
c) encourage them to smoke with you.
d) ignore them and go on with your life – besides it’s your own substance abuse.

8. You are out with your friends on a Thursday night, boozing and swilling beers in a bar. Suddenly you remember that you have a girlfriend, and you haven’t told her about this bit of pleasure trip. You will

a) excuse yourself and go home posthaste before she presents herself at your door.
b) text your girl that you are terribly sorry for not having informed her, and say that you’ll make up for everything on Saturday.
c) tell your girl that you indeed went out with your friends, but will never mention regarding your whereabouts.
d) continue having fun until the wee hours of the morning.

9. Again, you went out with your friends on a Thursday. You were told beforehand that on the next day you will be having an exam in Hyper Calculus. If you don’t go with your peers you will be called a kill joy, and you hate that. You will

a) bring your notes with you and study in the bar.
b) apologize to them and promise that you’ll treat each and everyone a pint of Häagen-Dazs.
c) fabricate an excuse – say, you forgot about the scheduled party at Hard Rock Café – stay home, and drill your notes in your head.
d) go out and have fun, disregarding the fact that you’ll fail the exam if you did not study. After all, nobody will pass the damn test in the first place.

10. You are about to go home. The traffic isn’t so bad and you have a wide array of options of the available means of transportation to ferry you back home. You will take the

a) jeepney.
b) bus.
c) MRT or LRT.
d) cab.

11. You wouldn’t inhale next to

a) an AIDS victim.
b) a person with a very serious case of halitosis.
c) the President of the Philippines.
d) your ex.

12. If you were given the chance to reinforce and/or improve one of your senses, you would choose

a) the sense of hearing.
b) the sense of touch.
c) the sense of sight.
d) common sense.

***END OF QUIZ***

Answers with their corresponding points will be given on Monday.

Bad memory

Monday, June 04, 2007

One week!

I seldom talk about my so-called luuuv life, and this is one of those fatal attempts at putting this figment of my existence in black and white. I have tried making write-ups in the past but occasionally I find myself hitting CTRL+A simultaneously and my index finger flying to the Delete key (or Backspace). I just find it gagging to share something about my grubby affairs with my, uh, ex girlfriend, and whenever close friends ask about her I usually heave a deep sigh, shrug my shoulders, and digress on offending topics that successfully make my chums forget that I was the center of attraction in the first place. This time I’m putting it up for the viewing public to see for no other reason than to displace my confusion I felt on a Sunday night at a Petron gas station at NLEX.

Over the weekend we were at our province in Nueva Ecija to attend my cousin’s wedding. I will not talk about the event itself but for information sakes I was one of the secondary sponsors, and it wasn’t so great because I was required to wear Barong Tagalog which felt so warm when I wore it. Anyway we went home round about 7 pm – it’s much better to travel during nighttime because the need for air conditioner is disregarded, but it was a warm night that we unanimously decided to have the aircon switched. I was sitting at the left captain seat, window side just right behind the driver.

Going fast-forward, my mom cheerfully announced that we’d be having a stop over at the Petron gas station at NLEX (southbound at the Bocaue area). We parked near the exit side tailgate facing KFC. On our right was a blue Honda CRV that seemed very familiar; the details, the mags, the hatch glass with a DLSU sticker near the tail light. Since I felt a bit drained – two hours of being glued on leather seats is not very pleasurable – I just ignored it and trailed with my parents and my sister. After having snacks, I excused myself and told my folks that I’d just be checking around the place. Oddly they nodded and asked me to take my time. I don’t know if they’re being generous or what. Heading towards Starbucks Coffee and Subway I suddenly felt this weird feeling that could have been a warning sign from the universe. It’s as if there was a force field hauling my butt back to our van refraining me from pursuing with my plan. I swear that I would never ignore that again.

At Starbucks there were four, five people sitting on their complacent butts contemplating refueling cars. I didn’t want to waste precious time so I whipped out a stick of YSL menthol lights. There were a couple of guys who were also smoking and probably having a small chitchat; I suppose they’re buddies or something. I was going halfway with my stick when a lean figure of the opposite gender materialized at my left. She was wearing a white fit shirt, grey jeans, and a pair of hmmm, a seemingly familiar-looking Havaianas. Of less interest I was wearing a blue polo shirt, denim shorts, and rubber shoes. I should’ve scampered away from my place except that I was strangely riveted to the concrete, and she was starting to chat me up.

“Your parents might see you.”
A year ago she tried convincing me to quit smoking. She ruled. It lasted for three months.

“As if you still care.”
I could still remember that horrendous event at a mall. Never in my life that I have done such primal acts as throwing glasses in a café.

(laughs) “Of course, I do. Anyway, what brought you here?”
Those giggle. It still resonates inside my head whenever I sit around the benches at Corte de Las Palmas. I love it when she does it because her eyes seem to disappear altogether.

“Just a stop over. Galing kami sa province, from a wedding yesterday. H’bout you?”

“Province din, sa Pampanga. Birthday kasi ng lola ko.”
She knows how to speak Kapampangan, and whenever she does it she resembles an alien.

At this point I have finished my cigarette. I noticed the gleaming silver bangle strapped around her left wrist.

“You’re still wearing that?”

“Oh, yeah, of course. I very much like it. You know what, I’ve never removed it from me, except when taking a bath, of course.”

For no apparent reason I felt horrible and bitter; at the same time I felt grateful to see her again after almost a year of nonexistence in my memory. I was basically speechless – it could be I was just repressing my impulses to scream, but it wasn’t like that at all. I’m baffled then ecstatic then atrocious then back to being baffled again. Aaargh.

“O, alcogel.”
Still the usual apple scent. Producing her phone, she told me that they’re about to leave. A new phone, I guess.

“Sige, I have to go. Sa inyo ‘yung green na E1, right? Magkatabi yata tayo ng sasakyan. Sabay na tayo.”

I let her walk ahead of me, lest I fall on a swoon.

“Bye Mike. Ingat kayo ha?”

Salamat. Ingat din kayo.”

At which point I hurried back inside the van and fastened myself on my seat. The bright fluorescent lights were on and it sure made us obvious outside the vehicle. My sister gave me a sandwich that they ordered to go. I wolfed at it with pure self indulgence trying to forget whatever that transpired earlier. Then my phone beeped. An anonymous texter with a seemingly familiar number.

“Hndi mo ba ako aalukin nyng knkain mo? Hmp! Takaw m pa rn! Wahaha! Bye. Ingat.ü”

It was her. She still has my number. I turned at my left to check if she (and their vehicle) was still there. But the blue CRV was gone.

I’m so confused. Or maybe this isn’t confusion at all. Maybe if I had responded to her I could’ve been better. Idiot, idiot, idiot.
 
   







© 2007 Puckering Time | It's now or never by Mike.
No part of the content or the blog may be reproduced without prior written permission from the author.
Letter of intent should be typewritten in no less than 5,000 words, point 10, single-spaced, Verdana. The author is not kidding.