Sipa

Sa tropang kinabibilangan ng labinlimang gago’t wirdong nilalang, walo ang matapang ang loob na nag-exam, pito ang diretsong naghanap agad ng mapapasukan, isa ang muntik-muntikan nang maging topnotcher, tatlo ang naging conditional, isa sa conditional ang umayaw na nang tuluyan, dalawa ang umabot sa third take ng exam, tatlo ang nagbabalak kumuha ng pagsusulit sa susunod na taon, dalawa ang permanenteng umabanduna ng pangarap, isa ang never say die, at tatlo pa lang ang nagtatagumpay na maikabit ang tanginang tatlong-letrang titulo sa dulo ng kanilang mga pangalan.

Alam mo ‘yung pakiramdam ng pinagpapawisan ng ga-munggong butil sa katawan dahil malapit nang lumabas ang tae mo pero wala ka pa sa kasilyas ng bahay niyo?

Sa susunod na taon na ko sesentensiyahan. Bigla akong kinabahan.

Count Down

What is the difference between rest day and day-off?

The blatherskite shepherd wannabe, whom I've had the liberty to call the three-year-younger version of me, told me over our EB beer session that day-off is for house maids so I should be using rest day instead - because I'm some Third World corpo creature earning double-digit bucks. Whatever. Typical stereotyping, if you ask me. A rose by any other name would still smell sweet, to quote the great English bastard bard.

So yeah, I'm using the "supposedly maid's term" to mean today's my day-off and I think I'm off to a good start. The weather is pretty gloomy and oddly, I'm sort of liking it. I've always felt at ease with cold, freezing weathers than hot, intimidating sunny days if you ask me. There's a strange thing about humid sunless skies that pulls the attraction in me. Maybe because I can so relate with its loneliness and isolation. Or perchance because it allows me to be closer to my comfort zone - being lost in book realms and being fuckin' inebriatedly philosophical over cold beer bottles.

I've left the hellish dorm yesterday and now I'm a transient over one friend's apartment in Pasig. This was basically where I lived for some time prior to moving to the murky floodwaters of Espana, Manila because of the sudden decision, or lack thereof, to pursue my freakin' CPA dream.

Next week's going to be my last week at the equally hellish call whoring job and I can't say I'm not thrilled at the idea of becoming a slaved yuppie no more. Gawd, the thought of waking up whatever time you want sans the scene of dragging your balls to work to talk in fake American accent gives me that peculiar surge of energy. Imagine a life without calls upon stupid calls of Occidental non-techies who have unfairly deemed it a habit to vent out their frustrations to hapless call center agents over not being able to connect to the Internet.

Fuckin' inglourious basterds (has anyone watched Tarantino's film yet and was it any good?). Like it was our fault they couldn't download their Maria Ozawa porn torrent.

I quit the review as well and that's exactly the reason I've been very productive in churning out shits upon tons of shits in this blog. I've checked the August idiosyncrasy and it pleases-slash-amazes me to no end how I've come to manage a whopping 13 posts in one month. By Lio Loco standards of posting only sensible shitnitz, not merely posting nonsensical what-I-fuckin'-did-today yadda yadda just so I could fit the "productive blogger" description, that's already an understatement.

So I resigned from work and quit the review. What gives?

I can't explain everything in a nutshell but if you're the reader who have religiously followed the fuckin' sentemotional Lio Loco drama over the last couple of posts, you'd surely discern why I quit both. I am, of course, talking to my alter-ago and to the two or three random readers who have come to regard this blog as their three-o'clock habit. Let me just say I've had yet another bout of those infamous quarter-life clusterfucks that suck the fight attitude in you.

That time sucked big time, if you want to know the truth.

Suddenly you feel the isolation, you feel like straying away from the normal course of the crowd and begin to realize there are a lot of things about yourself you find pathetic. You become insecure and worry about what exactly is going to happen five, ten, fifteen years hence but you look at a black, faceless canvas because you don't know what the future holds for you. You live in the now, that familiar territory you've known like the back of your hand but the distant future is vague like some hoax clairvoyant's crystal ball in Quiapo Church.

You look at your job and find yourself in utter dismay for breathing such a fuckin' corpo tag you didn't imagine yourself to work into in the first place. You look at people around you and you become crabby and catty. You tell yourself they can't be trusted and how they are all the same, all freakin' dolled up selfish marionettes in strings, like that kindergarten kid you knew back then who won't even share his lunch box goodies with you.

Fuckin' potpourri memories.

You begin to realize the people you've considered friends all along aren't exactly the greatest people on earth you've ever met in your two-decade existence and you begin to miss those you've willingly lost contact with. You miss high school and college and the familiar sense of security and comfort they bring you and you wish to turn back the hands of time to experience the easy-go-lucky bummer life you've reluctantly parted with.

But then again, you think it's not okay to be lulled up in such false security.

I've once read a very good article in a newspaper back then how we can be at our best and worst times at the same time, about how we try our gawddamn best to figure everything out and discern what life really is all about. There will be cliches and useless figures of speech spewed out by people claiming to be philosophers and those claiming they know a lot about life but I'd like to think there's one idea that could very well fit the bill for all of us.

That while we all want to be winners in the race of our lives, and in the process being shoved with fucked up problems and clusterfuck dilemmas up our gawddamn asses, we feel secure to be good contenders, at the very least, in the here and now.

So yeah, seven days to go before I finally get that well-deserved one-month break from all of these hellish shitnitz. One week to get over and done with before I bid goodbye to this fuckin' polluted Manila brick road. I'm going back to the stress-free, good ol' home in the province and there, in the cold mountain breeze, I will pamper my pollution-soaked penis.

Who's missing me now, eh?

And yes, if you're quite keen to notice, digressions pepper my posts. Too much ideas, too little time. There goes the Holden Caulfield in me again. Tsk.

Of Books, Blogs, Booze, and Blatherskite Cleric Wannabes

Time and again, I have always professed my extreme loathing on people. Not people per se but people who more than deserve to be annihilated because of breathing the stereotypical shit. People who emanate toxic stupidity and whose dreams are as dead as their ragged testicles. I become easily annoyed with people around me, more so when they wallow in imbecilic pleasantries and dimwit conversations.

Yeah, I can be a fuckin’ smartass if I want to. And yes, I am hard to please.

Granted, I am an introvert oozing with braggadocio but that does not mean I was born one. I have this theory that people are born good and they still grow up with that boxed up moral ascendancy in them. However, society shitnitz and the travails you encounter in life will change this ideal perspective in the long run.

Which is what seems to have happened to me, if you want to know the truth.

Perhaps this is the reason I grew up being icky socializing with others. Don’t get me wrong though. I do engage in meaningful discourses with other people albeit only with those who are within my wavelength and this we do over cold beer bottles. Nothing beats throwing philosophical shit and thought-provoking bubbles over this hot Manila pollution-inhaled flair while submerging yourself in extra-strong malt inebriation.

If I don’t get this amazing liquor banters, then I’d rather settle for a sweet feast of crisp paper scribbles and paperback stories. I’d rather be lost in the land of make-believe with these “real people” – every word they penned being judiciously devoured, every sentence, paragraph being breathed without haste. I’ve always loved the odd scent of printed papers, whose every page lays the children of letters and words and sentences dancing madly in the wind, orgasmically moaning my escape from stagnancy and oh-so-sickeningly-fucked-up social incarceration.

It is in this light then that I threw my allergic stance to people off the window for a night – never mind if I was not in my best Lio Loco coy what with all the shitty unfortunate events that occurred just recently in my yuppie existence, and never mind as well if I had to hide my crappy half-baked Jjampong hair trim under a sweaty Bench cap – just to meet up with a certain blogger I’ve straightforwardly called the three-year younger version of myself.

Funny how far blog-hopping can do. A link. A comment. A perusal of one’s mind. And then a forged connection.

In a world where almost seven billion people are in limbo – earning a living instead of earning a life, performing perfunctory steps instead of meaningful strides – it is a wonder to find someone close, if not exactly identical, to your guarded idiosyncrasies. It is even more remarkable if that person happens to come across your idiosyncrasy in print without you knowing it.

And so it was that in a swirling maelstrom of quenched thirsts and fuckin’ loud music, of flirting girls in tight mini’s and hapless boys mistaken for M2M pop culture chains, of deeply heated religion debates and shallow LOL tirades, of Marlboro smoke circles and two buckets of beer bottles, two young men – one struggling to chase a fuckin’ CPA dream, the other fraught with the ambition of becoming a boom-box shepherd of lost faith; both burdened by a filial responsibility to their families – shared the dream to be the best people that they could be, to reach their personal ambitions without compromises, to live young lives that won’t conform to a shitty society’s entanglement, to dance under stardust sprinkles.

I used to say I am unique and in a society full of neurotic tendencies and scumbag morons, I’ve claimed since time immemorial that there can only be one Me, that there can only be one Lio Loco idiosyncrasy. That at the risk of sounding too self-absorbed, my thoughts are king and the others' paupers. I thought wrong, of course. That night proved it. That night saw all of it. It was like Holden Caulfield meeting The Little Prince. Well, sort of.

If this is the kind of blogger meet-ups that awaits me over and beyond the blogosphere realm, then let me tell you this: I’d be more than willing to accept the invitation, with or without the RSVP.

Just be wary about my tendency to be a fucked up egotistical bastard. I’m telling you so.

Of course, there has to be cold beer bottles.

*First -ber month, first English post after a very long time. Fresh start.

Of Swagger Cow and Chicken (Pox)

Today I'm back to good, ol' España, Manila.

I'm staying here for a week and I'm looking forward to seven frackin' days of living the same, old bastardly life of getting a migraine over some Third World traffic brought about by stupid jeepney honkers, wading through high tides of murky flood waters (yes, I am officially announcing the early advent of the rainy season as global warming obviously dictates the sign of the times), and swigging bottles upon cold bottles of Red Horse booze with my equally retard España friends.

So what happened to your current Pasig dwellings, I hear the three of my loyal bandwidth bystanders who seem as lost with their lives as I am at the moment by killing boredom through reading this oh-so-friggin' boring yadda yadda asking.

Allow me to explain:

A friend of the housemates-slash-friends is moving in the Pasig apartment for a week to finally get a life and quit clinging to the parent's dole outs for dependence. With the six-month contractual work back in the province wrapped up, the friend of the housemates-slash-friends decided it's about time he gets his provincial balls some new ambiance and his dick dipped in Manila's haywire traffic and pollution for a change; thus, the seven-day transience in the house. The friend of the housemates-slash-friends is not my type of guy; every inch of his swaggering stench makes me puke my guts out, the fuckin' badass stink of his persona making me friggin' sick. The friend of the housemates-slash-friends is not my friend; he is a fiend.

And since I can't feign civility and Tupperware acts of comradeship while the friend of the housemates-slash-friends is within the premise with me, and since the bond between the friend of the housemates-slash-friends and the housemates-slash-friends has been established longer than my ties with them, I opted to avoid open hostility and dragged my ass back to the other bastard friends' abode here in España, Manila for ephemeral shelter.

Which , by the looks of it, I now regret. Not because I miss the Pasig mattress and the free Wi-fi and the Chinita next-door neighbor who jogs every five o'clock in the morning and goes home sweating in all her skimpy jogging outfit glory but rather, because two of the España bastards acquired the much-dreaded viral infection of chicken pox.

The SGV Audit-whore was the main carrier of the contagious illness having contracted chicken pox more than two weeks ago at the very least, him claiming that he got it from some random kid down the block. I suspect he got the bloody infection after engaging in forbidden pedophile activities for a long time with the unsuspecting tween. Also, I hear the poor kid is currently undergoing therapeutic counseling with the DSWD fat asses for the tormenting experience.

The Virus Carrier-slash-Accounting Pedophile

The narcissistic SGV Audit-whore, for his part, is left to contend with a face dotted with chicken pox crusts and scars all of his life when dealing with clients. Now this is saying something as the SGV Audit-whore is one fine specimen of how narcissism can become so addicting, every now and then checking how his face looks through the looking glass. He is using some scar-clearing facial wash, which I found out had salicylic acid as one of its active contents, at the moment. We are anticipating a Third World Michael Jackson clone through the SGV Audit-whore very soon.

On the other hand, Youngest Most Adult (as he looks the youngest amongst all of us in the group but, in truth, is the oldest by age), the recent pox victim who contracted the illness courtesy of the SGV Audit-whore, is looking forward to a pathetic Dalmatian existence once all the pox marks have settled down in his anemic skin cells. He is enjoying a one-week Sick Leave vacation at the moment and has confided using the work breather very wisely by watching Maria Ozawa porn and thereafter wanking his willy every other day when the Girlfriend (who is also part of the España bastards clique) is at work and when he is alone in the room. I am assuming the three-minute orgasms help fasten Youngest Most Adult's blisters scabbing.

Gawd, look at the huge pockmark scabs on his face. Give me immunity or give me death!

I texted the Mom back in the province whether I did, indeed, acquire the virus at some early age and the Mom texted back saying she's unsure but she thinks I already contracted the disease when I was a child, no crystal ball guarantees whatsoever, and so if she could please get her bimonthly obligatory allowance from me in advance and if I could please send it to her ASAP; I replied to the Mom saying I don't have the power to take out the 27th, 28th, and 29th from the calendar so if she could please bear waiting a few days longer and that the money would surely arrive by the time the 30th arrives.

Since I'm not pretty sure if I have had the gawddamn viral infection when I was a kid, I can't not exhibit the aghast facial expressions and the don't-come-near-me-or-I'll-stab-you-with-a-fork looks hurled at Youngest Most Adult every time he comes out of his hibernating hole to get something to drink and take a shit. I mean, I pretty much liked this guy as we've shared a lot of idiotic ramblings and pathetic sentemotional weepings over countless booze sessions back in college along with the Girlfriend; but by gawd if I get to acquire the gawddamn rash virus in some future time because of him, then I'm prepared to have the brotherly band at stake. It does not help that the Girlfriend is oblivious with the Youngest Most Adult's disease, her hugging and kissing and petting him like any normal, non-chicked poxed beau would. Between the risk of waking up each day looking at your face worse to or at the very least, close to how this guy looks like over the mirror and some real-life friendship nurtured and founded since college past, I'd rather choose the former.

The Girlfriend who seems to still be immune from the virus after countless French kissing with the Youngest Most Adult

At the moment, I am enjoying my welcome-back stay here in España, Manila by tormenting Youngest Most Adult and the SGV Audit-whore about how they very much seemed to own the ugliest faces ever created in the entire macrocosm, pox scabs and all, how the Girlfriend will have to dump Youngest Most Adult eventually for The Lanky Chinito Housemate and how the SGV Audit-whore won't experience coitus nirvana in his twenty-something virgin existence for having a pox scar-laden dick. Oh and yes, I do splash them with Isopropyl Alcohol whenever they talk to me and never forget to spray a bottle of Lysol after they've finished talking to me.

I hope they don't read this post, which I very much doubt as I have just been informed they do read it albeit not leaving some comment droppings. I pretty much don't know how they will deal with the friggin' sarcasm laid out here. Or heck, if they even know it's fuckin' sarcasm. Also, screw English-is-nosebleed stereotypes.

So for purposes of clarifying the matter, and for alleviating my doubts whether I do have had acquired the virus as well, I've Googled about the frackin' viral disease and here are the symptoms to confirm whether I will need to deal with a pathetic future of using hankies or bonnets or caps or Flame of Recca-ish ninja head gear to hide the bloody chicken pox scars on your face from ill-taunting society's public scrutiny:

• Mild fever. The fever varies between 101º F to 105º F and returns to normal when the blisters have disappeared. (negative)
  

• backache (check - caused by stress-laden call whoring work)
  

• headache (check - caused by Third World traffic from hell)
  

• sore throat (negative)
  

• a rash (negative)
  

• blisters filled with fluid (negative)

The gawddamn pockmarks are a sore in the eye. What if the scar scabbing goes deep down under? Holy shit!

At the moment, I can heave a sigh since the signs seem to be not indicative of me contracting the varicella-zoster virus. Or can I already? According to reliable (?) Wikipedia, "it takes from 10 to 21 days after contact with an infected person for someone to develop chickenpox." So yeah, if by any chance this blog has not had any updates or new posts 20 to 21 days from now, it's either I've gone to the US to have my face Michael Jacksoned or I've decided to become a hermit free from from the general bozos' screwing and ridicules over my pockmarks-loaded existence.

I can't imagine myself replacing the blemish-free baby face with a scabs-laden, pockmarked hideousness, gawddamnit!

So, tell me now, who's afraid of chicken pox?

Chronicles of Beer-nia: There in Baguio and Back Again (Second of Two Parts)

Something tells me I'm not welcome in Baguio anymore.

• One, I went up with whirring generators greeting me in Session Road because electricity was temporarily cutoff in some urban parts of the city, which meant celebrating a booze session in the dark.

• Two, a continuous outpour of drizzle marred the path to the Baguio Big Brothers' boarding house, which meant trudging the road with sticky loams and mashed mud.

• Three, due to the extreme extortion that occurred during my brief stay in the family compound, the Girbaud wallet was already hanging on a lifeline, which meant limited drinking sprees.

• Four, the cute Pizza Hut waiter
waiting staff I met didn't want to give her number to me, much to my prodding, which meant I still didn't have any prospects for a potential Lio Loco girlfriend.

We'll deal with the last bullet later.

So this was what happened when I visited the cool city up north of sweating Manila to take a breather from the suicidal call whoring job, the trigger-pulling traffic, and the profanity-uttering freaks from the entrails of this sickening city:

Three things: (1) Drink. (2) Drink. (3) Drink again.

Never mind the postcard trips of Camp John Hay or Mines View Park, or heck, even Burnham Park. I've been to these tour itineraries several times anyway. They can wait at some other time. But the drinking session, oh the fuck-me-Freddy drinking session with these guys I've learned to tag as part of my real-life barkadas cannot be delayed.

The good thing about living in Baguio, aside from the pinkish white SLU colegialas and cool, foggy afternoon sex
siestas, is the chilling dusk-till-dawn booze swigging. When the night is hugged by penis-shrinking coldness, you get to drink bottles upon blurry bottles of GSM Blue ad infinitum to combat the sub-zero freezing temperature. Of course, you will be scowled at by the patrolling barangay watchman but who the fuck is he anyway? Just bribe him with a bottle or two of the more vomit-inducing smiling Red Horse and he'll shut his ass up.

Yes, there is such a thing called Happy or Smiling Horse. It is not a myth and I have drunk it several times. This is the kind of Red Horse that bottles the stronger brew and is supposed to get you inebriated quicker than the regular one. Aside from the conspicuous smiling-slash-happy horse imprinted infront of the bottle, it has the label "FOR THAT DISTINCT FULL-FLAVORED TASTE" in caps written at the back instead of the regular "Experience that distinctive full-flavored taste and extra satisfying strength of a world-class premium strong beer" text. You might want to look for one the next time you buy a case or two as per the booze hustlers' testimony, there's always one in a dozen bottles.

Kampay-kampay for that distinct full-flavored taste!

But I digress. Before the celebration of the Jingle Boys reunion (we used to live in one big boarding house whose landlady was called Jingle, hence the moniker), by the way, I spent the entire day first processing my clearance at my previous call-whoring center. I know, I should have done this prior to transferring to my call-whoring job in Makati but what did I tell you, I am THE Great Procrastinator and I only work on things when my ass is finally being chased by the last minute deadline. Haha! This time around, the stimulus is the Form 2306 (or whatever that is called) from my previous employer that I needed to submit to friggin' red tape-stimulated
BIR ASAP to avoid being branded as an income tax evader.

Slacking my feet off while waiting for the gawddamn call center demigods' autographs.

It was surreal when I went inside my previous call center to process the entire paper works and I somehow recalled my early days as a Baguio call boy. Having zero knowledge on how Internet service troubleshooting works (I am, after all, an Accountancy graduate), I groped for terms and technical skills while dealing with some irate South Carolina customer on the other side of the globe. While I had the qualifications of becoming a great technical support representative at a future time, my ISP ignoramus persona back then didn't match the proficient American twang that I possessed. I was lucky to have one patient coach (call whoring term for supervisor) who walked me through all the ISP ropes and taught me how to use my American language mimicry to an advantage. It turned out the coach was not in the same account anymore and is now manning some other team in some other ISP account here in Manila as well.

Oh and yes, I thought you ought to know that I met the EX, of all the probable people I should be bumping my way into, while hunting the signature deities for autographs. I was speechless the whole time she tried to make a little chitchat and gawd knows how I profusely wished to vanish in the exact spot I was at when she noticed me. (You could guess it was rather unhealthy, the breaking up part. Haha!)

My previous life as a call boy, Baguio-style.

Anyway, I had my own taste of red tape and dragging paper works what with all the signatures I had to collect from various call-whoring demigods’ hierarchy and I didn't even know in the first place if the back pay would be worth all the fuzz and trouble I went through during that entire day. It's a good thing Willie, one of the Jingle Boys, helped me with the other clearance requirements as he is one of the security guards in the center. The fuckin' dick has been promoted to chief security apparently and he didn't even tell me about it for fear of obligatory booze session treat. So Willie the Chief Security Officer assured me everything will be taken cared of and took the gawddamn clearance papers from me, reminding me to share the blessing I will receive a month from now. Fuckin' thrifty bastard! Haha!

The newly-promoted Chief Security Officer. Where's the mandatory booze treat, you fuckin' bastard? Haha!

When the night went young and the fog finally descended from the heavens, it signaled the much-awaited Jingle Boys booze session. There was a conspicuous absence of some people as I am aware they've moved on to some other career paths already but we still swigged the night's merriment nonetheless.

I recall that night's laughter from horny sex jokes and funny Jingle banters, that night's sharing of what-have-you's and ice-breaking how-are-you's. Dexter seemed to have bloated like a gawddamn pig in a chain. He had barely joined us in the booze table for fear of sleeping outside the mosquito net that night. I just recently learned he had been cohabiting with a young, runaway girl. Roger, on the other hand, had been afflicted with the same disease apparently. While he does have a girlfriend in the province, the other guys spilled the bean he's currently in a fling with one of the call whore boarders. Fuckin' infidelity-infected bastards! Haha!

Kuya Marwin confessed he has changed his wicked ways and has now stuck to just one serious relationship, admonishing me to do that as well while I am still young or face the dire consequences afterwards when my hair is graying and my hairline receding. I'm thinking he said the relationship nugget either because inebriation has not sunk in yet for him or because he's noticing the peek-a-boo scalp already. Lol! Kuya Charlie made it finally to the Texas Instruments job post and he is currently slaving the chip engineering machinery. Kuya Bonie, ever the dark horse in the group (I'm not meaning it literally, swear! Lol!), was still one wicked rock star with his head-banging guitar strumming. Fuckin' wicked bastards! Haha!

The original Baguio Big Brothers - Kuya Bonie and Kuya Charlie

A lot has changed definitely but in a sense it was still the same, old brotherhood after all. They told me I looked better than the last time they saw me what with the anime-cloned do I brandished and the arguably horizontally-improved appearance I posed. When I kidded them I got busted by the damsel I'd set my eyes on though, the frackin' brothers wouldn't believe me and told me a handsome, young man with wits to boot shouldn't be hard up impregnating girls. Fuck-me-Freddy bastards! They didn't have to rub in the fact that I was the only one in the band without a healthy relationship yet. Is it just me or I really have set a high standard for my would-be beau? On second thought, I think I need to fuck
get the number of the very first kimchi-flavored Chinita I'll come across with in Session Road the next time around - never mind if she can't relate to my fuck-me-Freddy idiosyncrasies and she buys books but does not read them. Lol!

Public Notice: If you look like her, then by all means, send me your resume real quick! Haha!

We're supposed to go bar-hopping in Session Road after the drinking spree but some of the guys were effin' drunk like gawddamn retards. So I said it was one helluva reunion and bade goodbye to the brothers complete with a "see you next time, I'll see you when I see you" shit. I was on the brink of calling it a night when all of a sudden, somebody from the cybersex
Pinoy bloggywood texted me and relayed one big problem that needed immediate action. _ _ _ _ _ told me she left her baggage in the trunk of some random taxi while on her way to the Victory terminal, which contained, among others, her wallet, her VISA, and her credit card, and if I could please come to the terminal real quick and lend her a few bucks for her fare back to Manila.

We're effin' drunk when _ _ _ _ _ from cyber Pinoy Bloggywood called, for chrissake! Haha!

You know what I have been professing here about my being allergic to people? I had to screw that fact one bit and for that time alone, made an exemption. I was reluctant, of course. You must understand that time and again, I hate making public appearances and doing EB sessions and what made it worse was the fact that I was not at my best foot forward -- droopy eyes, slurry vocals, booze breath and all! I was fuckin' drunk, for Pete's sake! Haha! And why'd she have to be unretentive anyway? But then again, it was a matter of life and er... not going back home to Manila, so I dragged my ass and my brothers' and hailed a cab to give her her fare. (Kidding _ _ _ _ _. With all the unfortunate things and family matters that happened prior to that, I'd surely have made the same boo-boo. On second thought, I think I won't. Nyahahaha! Peace _ _ _ _ _! I'm really having doubts including these sentences but hey, you won't take this against me, right? And I think you know better by not taking me seriously. Haha! Remember, you still owe me some Starbucks coffee! Lol!)

Prior to my departure the very next morning, we went to the Strawberry Farm just to buy some freakin' perfunctory Baguio souvenirs and giveaways. Again, it rained like hell and we had to stop by SM Baguio to fill our inebriated stomach linings. We chose to eat at Pizza Hut and this is where the last bullet up above comes in. We met this cute waiting staff whose lashes would surely capsize the seemingly unsinkable Titanic and whose smile would melt any man's hard balls. Haha! I really thought she was gawddamn pretty and I kept kidding her that I needed to get her number every time she passed by our table. Thinking that we were some pesky Bitoy's Yari Ka! frontmen, the statuesque waitress ignored us over and over again and continued to do her round-the-table works.

Strawberry farm-hopping

That's until the (un)fortunate event happened. We ordered a family-sized thick crust pizza but after waiting 'till kingdom come, the pizza never went to our table. Kuya Bonie went to act like a berserk customer and ranted how we were waiting for eternity to have the gawddamn doe served on the table and that our time had been wasted waiting for nothing apparently. She panicked and uttered several sorry's profusely while I was all the while still bugging her for the freakin' cell number. Haha! She didn't budge with my pleadings and gave us another free pitcher of iced tea instead for all the order misunderstanding. Heck, would you believe me if I tell you I even went as far as talking to the manager regarding the matter? Lolz! The manager conceded but said that it would really depend on her approval. As time was running out, I settled for a second-rate photo op instead and for the umpteenth begging, she finally obliged.

The potential Lio Loco girlfriend...not! Lolz!

And the reason for all the Lio Loco evasion? It turned out she already has a boyfriend and he was working as a waiter in the same restaurant as well. Damn you, Lio, damn you for chasing a flower already pollinated by some friggin' Baguio bee! Haha!

Her name's Jed by the way. And yes, she thinks Jed Madela is gay.

Some Random Pictures

Here are some other shots I've taken during the brief Manila renegade stint. I didn't know where to put them in the post so I figured I'd attach them anyway as some sort of postscript photos. I'm lazy to put some captions so yeah, go figure. Haha!



First Month Anniversary!

Yay! I've finally reached my first month in this bandwidth blog spot (it was actually yesterday, to be specific) and I'd like to extend my appreciation to all the Internet bystanders who didn't have anything better to do in their lives and consequently lost their way in this blog site instead. I didn't keep my hopes so high this time around as I know I went back to the original English yadda yadda I was onced accustomed to but what do you know, the site still kicked ass in some way apparently what with the 2,000 (and counting) hit mark it registered. It was, indeed, unexpected and staggering as I was even keeping a goal of only a thousand-mark wonder for the first month alone.

I know I've been too lazy the past month to write something sensible hence, the mediocre number of posts I churned out but I do promise to keep the blogging fire burning and give you, my loyal three readers, more SSDDish idiosyncrasies in the months to come. If you have suggestions about anything you'd like me to write about, don't hesitate to post it anywhere here in the site's four-corner confines.

As everyone else might have already noticed, I've started the Mammary Awards thingamajeesm just for the heck of celebrating my first monthsary here (they say using the term monthsary is grammatically incorrect but whaddaheck, a word used by the plurality will eventually become acceptable in the long run) but with the way things are currently running, I'm assuming we've got a sure winner who goes by the name of Lovely aka Anakngpating aka Wagnut aka Tungaw. Haha!

The prize at stake isn't really jaw-dropping but hey, it's just something I've concocted in the spirit of blog monthsary celebrations. And where in the world can you find such free, no-shipping-charge, tax-free Baguio giveaways anyway? Only here at Breathing the SSDD Mantra! Lolz!

So yeah, if you want to give Lovely a run for her strawberry wine, the deadline's set to May 18, 2009. Haha! Alohomora!

Missing the Baguio Big Brothers

Mainit sa labas. Nakakapaso. 'Yung tipong kapag naihip sa'yo eh manginginig kang parang katatapos mo lang jumingle na ewan. 'Yung tipong nanunuot sa kailaliman ng balat mo 'yung alinsangan, sagad pa kamo hanggang sa puyo ng ulo. Doble alimpuyo ang mararamdaman dahil bukod sa tagaktak ka na sa taenang pawis, manlalagkit pa ang buong katawan mong dinaig pa ang putang nag-OT sa trabaho dahil matindi ang pangangailangan.

Sa mga ganitong pagkakataon ako napapailing at di magkaminsang darating ang pagkayamot sa sarili ko. Nitong nakaraang mga araw, habang naglalakad sa kahabaan ng umuusok na daan pauwi galing sa pinagkakaputahan, nakailang beses na rin akong napapaisip kung tama ba ang naging desisyon ko't hindi ko ba 'to pagsisisihan sa kalaunan. Kaganda't kalamig ng Baguio pero heto ako't ipinagpalit lang sa pamatay na combo ng trapik, usok, at alinsangan ng Maynila ang komportableng pamumuhay sa taas. Katangahan bang matatawag 'yun?

Siguro. O kung may makabuluhang dahilan, siguro hindi.

May mga bagay na kelangan mong ipagpalit at isakripisyo maski na nasanay ka nang hindi pwedeng wala ang mga bagay na 'yon sa buhay mo. Siguro kasi sa takdang panahon eh may mas mabibigat pang bagay na tataob sa pananaw mong hindi ka mabubuhay nang wala ang mga iyon. Mas mabigat. Mas matimbang. Maaaring ngayon sasabihin mong ito na 'yon, hindi na pwedeng magbago 'to. Tapos bukas makalawa, malalaman mo na lang na sinasalungat mo na pala ang kasalaulaang binanggit mo nung isang gabi. Kasi nga naman eh may dahilan.

Sa Baguio kung saan ako namulat sa maraming katotohanan, doon kung saan napasadahan ko por da perstaym ang maraming mga bagay -- mabuti man o masama, masarap man o mapakla, doon kung saan ko nasubok mamuhay nang mag-isa't tumayo sa sarili kong mga paa, doon nabuo ang kung sino mang taenang pagkakakilanlan meron ako ngayon. Sa lunang ito ko natutunang batakin nang maaga ang mga hamon ng buhay, nakilala ang mga taong naging tunay na sandigan ko sa mga pagkakataong bibigay na 'ko sa nanunubok na mga problema, nakipagtaguan pong sa mga laro ng madayang tadhana.

Nasabi ko na noon sa sarili kong higi't anupaman, hinding hindi ko ipagpapalit ang lugar na 'to. Tae. Sa humigi't kumulang dalawampung taong pamamalagi ko rito sa makamundong ibabaw, dito ko lang talaga nahulma nang maige ang pagkatao ko. Emo na kung emo pero totoo. May punto sa buhay mong bigla ka na lang matutuliro't tatanungin kung ano ba talaga ang purpose mo sa taragis na buhay na 'to, kung hanggang dito na lang ba ang kaya mo't hindi ka na ba makakaalpas pa sa kasalukuyang kumunoy na kinalulubugan mo. Quarter-life crisis ata ang tawag dun. Magmumukmok ka sa isang tabing parang gunggong at magmumuni-muni kung may mabuti bang kahihinatnan ang mga palpak na diskarte mo sa buhay.

Ako? Naging maaga ang dating sakin ng lecheng quarter-life crisis na 'yan at sa mainit na kanlungan ng malamig na Baguio nangyari ang lahat. Kung meron man akong saksak puso, tulo ang dugo moments sa buhay ko, so far eh sa Baguio siguro nangyari 'yung mga pinaka-laslas triggering. Bata pa kasi ako nun eh. (Bata pa rin naman ako ngayon ah. Wehehehe) Prone sa emotional breakdowns. Feeling ko gee-ep ko 'yung yaya ng pilyang batang si Angelina -- pareho kaming "loser." Maraming tanong na akala ko eh walang sagot. Nosebleed ang mga what if's at if only's sa vulnerable phase ng aking pathetic layp. Tipong mapapa-maddapakingshet naknamputa combo ka dahil mas mahirap pa pala sa value ng X when X is equal to the square root of Y multiplied by the coefficient of X over the cube of X minus Y raised to the 8th power na minamani mo lang sa Mathematics exam mo nung hayskul ka (minani mo nga ba? hehehe).

Mabuti na lang kamo't andiyan sila. Hindi ko kaanu-ano't saglit pa lang nagkakakila-kilala pero daig pa ang magkakarugtong ang pusod sa barkadahan. Bigla-biglang pumasok sa buhay ko, nakaututang-dila, nakainuman at nang lumao'y naging prenships por layp na pala. Tinanggap nila 'ko kung ano man ako bilang tao. No questions asked, no strings attached.

"Kuya" ang naging bansag ko sa kanila dahil ako ang pinakabata, bunso kumbaga. Sila ang mga naging sandigan ko 'nung mga panahong papatumba na ko dahil sa pagkabangenge sa taragis na mga problema, mga simpleng taong dinaig pa ang kung sino mang kurakot na may mataas na posisyon sa lipunan sa hitik ng mga pangaral sakin. Mga mabubuting class S na nilalang na naging dahilan para makaya ko't malampasan ang mga guhit sa patintero ng tadhanang madalas mang-gudtaym.

Institusyon. Ganitong mga klase ng mga tao ang masarap pakisalamuhaan dahil walang ere sa katawan. Totoo sa sarili't hindi ka itutulak sa banging uhaw sa mga "you're such a loser" emo's. Kung meron silang pangaral saking hanggang ngayon eh sukbit ko pa rin sa muling pagsalta ko rito sa Maynila eh respeto na siguro 'yun. Wag kang matakot hangga't alam mo sa sarili mong wala kang inaargabyado, wala kang tinatapakang tao. Dahil lahat tayo, gaano man karami ang nakamal na yaman at gaano man karunong sa natutunang mga leksiyon sa paaralan, ano man ang titulo mong kabit-kabit sa dulo ng iyong pangalan, pantay-pantay pa rin ang lahat sa takdang panahon. Pare-parehong umuutot. Pare-parehong mabaho ang echas. Kaya wag kang magmarunong. Higi't lalong wag kang magmagaling.

Tae. Nakakamiss talaga.

Namimiss ko na 'yung mga panahong papasok akong lasheng kasi hindi ko matanggihang hindi ako makiikot sa tagay (bilang certified call center puta, meron kasi akong pasok sa weekends na siya namang saktong day off nila). 'Yung mga weirdong pakulo nilang Red Horse na tinitimplahan ng Pineapple syrup at GSM na tinimplahan ng Sprite. 'Yung jamming session kapagka tamang lasheng na't basagan na ng gitara sa saliw ng Eraserheads, Guns n Roses, Parokya ni Edgar, at kung sino pang mga OPM bandang sumikat noon.

'Yung pagpapatahan sakin kapagka wala na ko sa sarili kong katinuan at sinumpong na ko sa pagpapalahaw sa katagang "daddy" nang makailang ulit. 'Yung pag-alalay sakin kapagka sumesemplang-semplang na ko sa kinauupuan ko't diretso hatid na sa kuwarto ko pagkatapos. 'Yung pag-uumpugan ng mga ulo namin sa isang mesa't hindi muna kakain hangga't hindi pa kumpleto ang head count. 'Yung pagsasaluhan ang kung anong meron ang isa't pagpapahiram sa kung sino man ang kapos. Tsk tsk tsk. Reminiscing mode ang puta.

Sa mga ganitong napaka-maalinsangan ng mga kalye rito sa Maynila ko sila mas madalas naaalala. Maaari ngang pinagpalit ko ang Baguio sa Maynila dahil kelanga't wala akong choice pero gusto kong isiping pansamantala lang ang lahat. Tulad ng mga hobbits ng Shire na umuwi sa sarili nilang kuta matapos ang pagkahaba-habang paglalakbay sa Mordor, gusto kong isiping balang-araw, babalik din ako sa dakong iyon ng Pilipinas kapagka ayos na ang lahat. Tulad ng pagtupi ni McArthur sa mga Hapong kalilibog pero kaliliit naman ng mga tite, gusto kong isiping sa takdang panahon eh bibigkasin ko rin ang pamosong linyang "I shall return!"

Malapit na siguro 'yun. Sana lang talaga ma-approve ang leave ko nitong unang linggo ng Abril.

Baguio Big Brothers!

Sinech Itey: Lea, Ate Charlene, and Ate Gelli -- Certified Adeekamputas!

Band of Brothers - Baguio-style

Goodbye Yellow Brick Road -- Ang Pagluwas

Pansinin ang red, hot chilli poster sa taas...Hehehe!

Isturowberi farm-hopping pagkatapos ng bangenge

The Bonnet Boys - Ang Bagong Boy Band na Pagkakaguluhan ng mga Chick at Feeling Chick...Nyahahaha!

Party at The Embassy: Putting Lio Loco's Anti-Social Skills To The Test

Uunahan ko na kayo. Medyo nakainom ako ng konting serbesa kaya ngayon pa lang, humihingi ako ng paumanhin kung walang kwenta at walang kalatuy-latoy ang blog post ko ngayong gabing ito. Pero kung wala ka rin namang magawang makabuluhan at inaamag na rin lang ang kukote mong namumutiktik sa gagambang sapot, iminumungkahi kong makibasa ka na lang sa blog post na 'tong dulot ng kawalan ng tulog at pagkabitin sa malamig na alak.

Kagagaling ko lang sa aming 1st Anniversary Party sa kutang pinagkakaputahan ko at medyo nabitin ako. Bitin ako sa tulog dahil humigi't kumulang dalawang oras pa lang ang naiipon kong pahinga para baunin sa muli na namang pakikipagsapalaran sa pagpapakaputa sa bobo calls sa Makati mamaya. Bitin din ang alak na ipinamudmod sa Embassy kaninang sumaid lang sa bituka kong nanunuyo na sa lasa ng Pulang Kabayo at kung anumang nilalaklak na alak diyan dahil isang linggo na kong tigang sa mga beer sessions at kwentong barbero ng mga lashing na bangkero.

Redundant pero uulitin ko pa rin alang-alang sa kapakanan ng mga taong gusto akong makilala sa teleserye ng totoong buhay at nananabik sa makatas na adam's apol ko: Allergic ako sa tao kaya hindi talaga ako nagpupupunta sa kung ano mang mga bars at gigs na pinamumugaran ng mga coño-speak from outer space. Hindi ako mahilig sa mga socializing ekek na yan at kung gusto mo akong makasalamuha nang masinsinan, ipinapayo ko sa'yong pumunta ka sa bahay ko kasama ang dalawang case ng beer at isang supot ng yelo. Partida ko na 'to para sa'yo: sagot ko na ang pulutan at chitchat.


Pero ano nga kaya ang pumasok sa kukote ko at napapayag akong pumirma ng bisor naming pumunta sa Embassy, ang lugar kung saan makikita mong siksik-liglig ang mga yuppie coñong sumasayaw sa saliw ng Itaktak mo ng Eat Bulaga at Igiling-giling ng Wowowee, ang lunan kung saan madalas sa madalas, makikita mo ang mga personalidad na malimit nakikipag-isang gabing tayuan matapos ang palitan ng laway at epektos nakabalandra sa society pages ng kung ano mang walang kwentang magazine sa pinakamalapit na news stand?

Simple lang. Kinausap niya ko, sampu ng mga kateammates ko, nang masinsinan at may matching saksak puso, tulo ang dugo epek pa. Sino ba namang agent ang hindi makokonsensiya kapag sinabihan kang once a year lang ang event na 'to, na mabuti nga't napagbigyan pa nga ang account mong mag-celebrate ng anniversary, na exclusive ang party para lang mismo sa mga agents ng account na 'yun, at tumataginting lang namang 400,000 pesosesos ang ginastos ng kutang kumpanya para lang mairaos ang once-in-a-lifetime pagdiriwang na 'to para sa'yo?

Gusto ko sanang sabihin sa bisor kong "Ahm...mawalang galang na TL pero hindi kaya mas makabuluhan ang pagkakatatag ng account na 'to isang taon na ang nakakaraan kung ang perang ipambabayad kay Tim Yap eh ipinamudmod na lang nang bonggang bongga sa mga agents sa production floor? Who needs a party when even Barack Obama, the universal president of this freakin' whole wide world, is adhering to strict belt tightening due to the aftermaths of this global recession? Heck, these call whores would even feel the celebration if they get extra bonus during the pay-day instead of spending it on a one-night affair like this!" Pero kung ikaw eh isa lamang rank-and-file employeeng may sentido kumon na sapilitang pinapapunta pinapakiusapan ng bisor mong mas nakakataas sa'yo, natural menteng hindi mo ibubulalas ang opinyon mo at papayag kang pumirma sa attendance sheet alang-alang sa iyong matiwasay na pananahan sa pagpapakaputa mo sa Makati.

Kaya ako napapayag na pumunta sa taragis na annual event maski tinutukuran na ng tutpik ang mga talukap ng mata ko. Kaya ako napunta sa Embassy kanina nang wala sa plano. Kaya ako medyo tipsy habang tinitipa ko ang mga katagang 'to ngayon. Ikaw ba naman ang humingi ng beer stubs ng mga kateammate mong ayaw uminom, ewan ko lang kung hindi ka ma-bangenge nang slight. Hehe.

Ayun. Habang patuloy sa paggiling ang mga kateammate ko sa mga kantang pinasikat ni Pink at Rihanna, andun naman ako sa sulok humihitit ng yosi at umiinom ng alak. Ang jologs no? Kaya ka nga nagpunta sa bar para magwala at sumayaw na para ka lang nagpopole-dancing sa banyo niyo nang mag-isa di ba? Pero Ibahin niyo ko. Jologs na kung jologs pero kuntento na kong umispot ng mga bhebot na naka-plunging neckline at kita na ang kaluluwa. Okey na saking nagmamasid sa mga chicks na sa sobrang kakapusan ng tela eh halatang pupulmunyahin sa suot na damit isang oras mula ngayon at luluwa na ang mga dyoga dahil nagkulang ng tela sa pinatahing bestida. Anak ng pating, sa dami ba naman ng mga quality babes kanina, alin pa ba ang pipiliin mo: ang tigasan o pagpawisan? Sagot ko: Pwedeng both na lang? Wahehehe.

Kamanyakan aside, sa kalakaran ng mga nagsulputang call center putahan diyan, nakatutuwang isipin na magpasahanggang ngayon eh buhay pa rin ang account namin. Hindi naman sa pagmamayabang pero ang kuta namin ang number wan center sa buong Pinas sa account na hawak namin at nung magsimula ako sa kutang 'to eh tinatalo pa nga ang on-shore site ng Internet Service Provider account na 'yun. Hindi ko alam kung kumpirmado na nga pero may bulung-bulungan pa ngang mula sa apat na off-shore sites nila rito sa Pinas eh mementinahin na lang ang isa. Ibig sabihin, dahil sa epekto pa rin ng hagupit ng nyetang global recession na yan eh ipu=pull out na ang account sa Cebu, Ayala, at Bacolod. At ang matitira? Tinatanong pa ba 'yan? Siyempre 'yung kuta namin walang duda. Hakhak!

Habang pending pa rin ang plano kong maging Certified Pekpek Arouser (CPA), sana nga eh magtuluy-tuloy ang pamamayagpag ng account naming ito. Sa hirap ba namang maghanap ng trabaho ngayon, mas mabuti na ngang huwag muna kong mag-resign sa pagpapakaputa. Steady lang muna habang di pa nakakapirmi sa trabaho ang utol ko. No bounce, no play. Bear with the freakin' SSDD.

Alam ko na kung saan na naman patungo 'tong post na 'to: unlimited ka-emo-han na naman. Sensitibo ako't alam kong wala kayong pakialam sa pagka-emo ko dahil meron din kayong mga sariling emo moments. 'Yung tipong ginawang lipstick ang eyeliner sa ilalim ng mata sa sobrang kapal at with matching Gilette blade ready to laslas pa ang drama. Kaya bago pa 'ko matuyuan ng brain cells ngayong gabing 'to, heto na ang pruweba ng walang kakwenta-kwentang dahilan ng pagkaantala ng pagtulog ko kanina. Higop muna 'kong kape mga kabagang. I need to get rid of this slight inebriation.

Powskrip:
Ahm...nagpagupit na pala 'ko. Ayun. Back to being an anime Zack Of Final Fantasy VII clone ule. Pagpasensiyahan.

Taragis. Hindi ko talaga maintindihan kung bakit ang pagsasabi ko ng "Trim lang po..." para sa buhok kong kasinghaba na ng locks ni John Lennon eh nangangahulugan na palang "new Korean-slash-Anime-slash-Emo haircut from awter ispeys" sa bokabularyo ng mga hair stylists sa Bench Hair Fix Salon. Ewan ko sa inyo. Pag di ako nakapagpigil, kayo ang mapagdidiskitahan ko ng saksak puso, tulo ang dugo. Gagamitin ko pa ang matalim na gunting na ipinanggupit niyo sakin. Pramis!

*Photo credits courtesy of my teammate-slash-blogger friend, Messynuthead

E for Ecstacy...er, I meant Embassy.

Piktyuran bago kumuha ng Visa.

Certified Adeekamputa!

Party Animals! Kung blurry ang tingin mo sa pic na 'to, malamang sa malamang, nakatira ka na ng Ecstacy. Ding, ang bato! Lolz!

Partida pa 'yan - alang matinong tulog! Hehehe.

Kasama si Rob Thomas, este...ang bisor naming ubod nang bait! Pwede raw umabsent mamaya. Ahem Ahem!

My teammates and me...at the Ecstacy, er...Embassy!


Utol ko nagtext. Nasa daan na raw paluwas ng Maynila.

Huling Laklak ng Alak sa Españang Takatak

"huling patak ng alak. sa apmnt. ngaun na. take it or leave it."

Kagabi lang eh naisipan kong magpainom. Biglaan. Wala sa plano. Dapat sana eh wan on wan lang talaga kaming dalawa ni Pareng Gerald. Tamang lashing lang kako. Pantanggal ng angas dahil sa pagkapagod sa biyahe na pinalala pa lalo ng buwakanginang trapik. Pero dahil matagal kong hindi makikita ang mga taragis na pagmumuka ng mga hinayupak, inimbita ko na rin ang prenster prens kong aydol si Cory Aquino (kung gaano ako kakuripot, mas kuripot ‘tong mga ‘to…pramis!).

Nagtext ako sa mga katropa kong mga royal highness ng pakiramdaman at pagkarating namin ni Pareng Gerald sa apartment galing sa lampas-riles para bumili ng bulalo, inihaw na pusit at liempong pulutan eh andun na ang mga hinayupak. Walastik! Basta libre talaga anlakas ng pang-amoy ng mga nilalang na ‘to. Gusto ko pa sanang dagdagan ng joke joke joke ‘yung text pero message sent na eh. Wala nang bawian. At andun na sila. Kumaripas ng takbo mula sa kuta nilang pagmamay-ari ng lalakweng may regla papunta sa kuta naming minamandohan ng babaeng pinaglihi sa menopause sa sobrang asim ng pagmumuka.

At dahil paminsan-minsan lang ‘to, nagpaka-filthy rich ako at Pulang Kabayo ang nilaklak namin. Hindi GSM. Hindi Emperador. Hindi Gran Matador. Buhos kung sa buhos ang labanan. Basta ang usapan, walang susuka nang bonggang bongga. At lalong walang maingay dahil baka magising ang buwakanginang dragon sa baba’t lapain kami nang di oras. Nasa ikatlong palapag pa naman kami.

Namiss ko ‘tong setup na ganto. Nakapaikot ang lahat sa mesang puno ng huntahan, alak, pulutan, at yelong lusaw. Makalat pero ayos sa olrayt ang samahan. Ako ang tanggero at habang umiikot ang basong pinagsasaluhan, umiikot din ang kuwentong nagpasalin-salin sa bibig ng kung sino mang maangas na hindi pa tinatamaan ng malupet na sipa ng serbesa.

Tulad ng sabi ko noon, sa ganitong porma ng beer session ako higit na palagay. Mas gusto kong umiinom sa loob ng sariling bahay kesa sa kung saang mamamahaling pasosyalan dahil mas nagiging totooong tao ka sa teleserye ng totoong buhay. Walang inhibitions. Pwede kang sumalampak habang nilalaklak mo ang serbesa. Pwede kang magbackflip habang binabangka ang mga malulutong na kuwentong chichakorn. Pwede kang umepal sa kupal na nagbibidang wala raw ‘yan sa kalingkingan ng lolo niya. Pwede ka ring maghubo’t hubad at ibalandra ang nanlilimahid mong katawan sa sangkatauhan dahil wala lang, trip trip lang. Pwera biro, nagawa na namin ‘to sa Baguio. Certified adeekamputa! Hakhak!

Higit lalong mas mainam ang magpakabangenge sa loob ng sarili mong kuta dahil bukod sa mura na ang beer at walang nakakalokong patong tulad ng sa mga bars, napakalapit pa ng banyo para magpakain sa mga alaga mong bibe. Kung hindi ka man umabot sa point of withdrawal, ayos pa rin dahil pwede mo pa rin namang linisin bukas makalawa ang suka mong produkto ng pagkalaspag mo sa alak kagabi. Okey payn. Gross na kung gross. Gawin nating isang oras pagkatapos bumulwak ang samu’t saring lamang loob mo para di na uurin bukas makalawa. Hakhak!

Pero seryoso, da best pa rin ang inuman sa sariling tinutuluyan dahil maski saan ka abutan ng pagkalasing mo eh okei lang. Wala kang pag-aalinlangan maski na kaladkarin ka pabalik sa kuwarto mo kasi nasa bahay ka lang. Di tulad sa labas na pigil ang pag-inom dahil baka limang oras pagkatapos magpaka-wet and wild sa ice-cold booze eh magigising ka na lang na walang saplot sa katawan at inagawan na pala ng puri sa kung saang kangkungan.Tsk tsk tsk!

Puta. Ang daming pasakalye. Hehehe. So ganun nga. Nagreminisce ang mga puta. Tipong pang-Maalaala Mo Kaya ang drama at nagbalik tanaw sa kahapon. Parang kahapon lang daw eh ganito rin ang setup namin nung college at imbes na pumasok sa klase eh alak ang sabay-sabay na pinagkukumpulan. Tamang kuwento. Tamang patawa. Tamang videoke marathon sabay kampay sa bote ng Pulang Kabayo at sakal sa seksing leeg ng Emperador. Tamang trip sa buhay dahil paminsan-minsan, kelangan din naming mag-unwind at alisin ang sobrang angas at banas na dulot ng pinagpatung-patong na problema sa pamilya, eskwelahan, at lablayp. Nakakapressure din kaya ang istudent layp, kala niyo ba? Wahehehe!

Tulad ng nangyari kagabi. Tamang tagay dahil iyon na ang huling laklak ko sa España. Sa puntong ito, ipinamamalita ko sa mga nilalang na naligaw ng landas sa walang kuwentang kutang ‘to na si Lio Loco eh opisyal nang lilisanin ang kuta niya sa España, Manila at tuluyan nang mananahan sa Kapitolyo, Pasig City! (sabay wagayway sa dalawang kamay na parang kontestan sa Miss Hindi Mo Ba Alam Pinagnanasaan Lang Ang Keps at Boobs Mong Natatakpan Lang ng Kakapiranggot na Saplot 2009 beauty pageant.) Dapat sana eh hindi ko lilisanin ang España dahil malapit lang ‘to sa CPAR kung saan sana ako magrerebyu for the CPA Board. Eh kaso change of plan na naman ang nangyari. Dahil ala pang matinong trabaho si utol, nagdesisyon na kong ilagay ule sa backseat ang pangarap ko at tuloy ang pagpasada sa pagpapakaputa sa Makati. Indefinite ang CPA Board review sa ngayon.

Kaya ako nalipat sa Pasig at nagpakupkop sa isa ko pang grupo ng mga barkada. Oo, marami akong barkada at tulad ng kahon-kahong sapatos eh grinugroup-group ko rin sila. May pangkat ng mga bogaloids na laklak at bisyo lang ang laman ng kukote. May mga grupo ng genius Promil children na intellectual discourses lang ang huntahan. May mga group of peeps namang tamang trip at tambay ang buga. Etong huli lang eh nadagdagan na naman ang kahon-kahon kong barkadahan. Kung sino sila? Sino pa eh di ang mga grupo ng pinaghalu-halong adeekamputa’t makulet ang lahing naligaw ng landas sa bulagspot na ‘to. Sino pa kundi kayo mismong masugid na umaantabay sa bawat kabalahuraang ipinapasada ko sa walang kuwentang kutang ‘to. Uuy…nangiti siya! Hehehe.

Ayun. Na-digress na naman tuloy ang puta. Balik tayo sa mesa kung saan umiikot ang post na ‘to. Tamang lashing kami kagabi at habang tinitipa ko nga ang bawat kataga rito ngayon eh walang puknat naman ang pagbayo ng kung anumang imbisibol pala sa sentido ko. Taragis, hangover kung sa hangover ang siraulo. To think na papasada na ule ako mamaya sa pagpapakaputa. Tsk tsk tsk!

Sabi nila mamimiss daw nila ako. Na kesyo raw napakalayo ko na para bisitahin pa sa Pasig at malamang sa malamang, once in a blue moon na lang mauulet ang beer session na tulad nito. Utot nila! If i know eh ‘yung panlilibre ko lang naman ang mamimiss nila. Pero on second thought, baka nga ganun din ang kahihinatnan ng lahat. There’s a cliche that tells us that absence makes the heart grow fonder; I beg to disagree. For when someone becomes silent for too long a time, the memory of that someone slowly fades away. And before you know it, sooner or later, that someone is nothing but a speck of stardust in your subconscious.

Maddapakingshet! Ayokong mangyari ‘yung ganun. Napamahal na sakin ‘tong barkadahang ‘to dahil dito ako nakilala bilang ako, hindi bilang isang taong nakakahon sa stereotypical na tagging ng lecheng lipunang ‘to. Dito ako nagkaron ng sariling identidad na malayo sa naunang kabit sakin nung bata pa lang ako. Dito ko nakita ‘yung totoong meaning ng prenship, ‘yung sarili kong spot in the hol wayd yunibers. Leche, Ka-emo-han na naman ang puta.

Mamimiss ko ‘tong mga taong ‘to. Mamimiss ko ang inuman sessiong tulad nito. Ang kulitan, asaran, epalan sabay hagikgik sa kung anumang kwentong chichacorn ang nakalapag sa mesa. Mamimiss ko ang baha sa España. Ang trapik. Ang pagkaburyong ng mga jeepney drivers na hanggang ngayon eh hindi ko pa rin magets bakit kelangang bumusina nang pagkalakas-lakas sa kasagsagan ng trapik (hindi naman mababawasan ng pagbusina ang haba ng trapik). Ang mga rapid chess players-slash-chess ang ikinabubuhay ko kaya umayos ka’t pumusta na sa tapat ng MonSay High na dinadaanan ko pagkagaling sa trabaho at manghang-mangha sa bilis ng moves at talas ng isip (Hindi na lang ikaw ang idol ko, Wesley So! Hehehe.).

Mamimiss ko ang factory ng batang napakaingay sa kalsadang naghaharutan habang kasagsagan naman ng pagtulog ko sa tanghali. Silang mga nagsasamperwan, nag-wawantutri asawa ni Marie (na ayon kay kabayang Sam eh kataka-takang kelangang mag-panty eh hindi naman siya babae; hinuha ko bading ang asawa ni Marie.). Silang mga chikiting patrol na sumisigaw ng “Sunog! Sunog!” habang naglalaro ng tubig sa labas at ako nama’y mapapabalikwas only to find out na joke lang pala ang lahat. Sarap kurutin sa singit ng mga little rascals na ‘to eh no?

Mamimiss ko ang buwakanginang Aling Masungit na may-ari ng apartment na tinutuluyan naming mabait lang kapagka bumili ka sa tindahan niya, nagpaload ka sa Smart, o di kaya nama’y pinakyaw mo ang paninda niyang halu-halo’t sago gulaman. Mamimiss ko ang pagtataray niya sa utol ko at kay Tina at kay Tita na sa hindi malamang kadahilanan eh laging kumukulo ang dugo sa kanilang tatlo. Mamimiss ko rin ang mga adeek sa mahjong na kapitbahay naming madaling araw na eh ayun at bising bisi pa rin sa pagbalasa at pagdive sa mga kuwadradong mahjong cubes (kung yun nga ang tawag dun.) Mamimiss ko rin ang mga bhebot kolehiyala’s na pagala-gala lang sa Rectong pakyut nang pakyut at coño-speak ang mga dila.

Tae. Ang dami ko palang mamimiss. Ang dami ko pang hindi naikukuwento sa inyo tungkol sa kasalukuyan kong pinagkakakutahan na dapat sana’y ipapasada ko pa sa mga susunod na posts ko rito. Eh ang kaso, malupit ang tadhana. Minsan, mas magandang wag na lang magplano para di maudlot kapagka nagkataon. Hindi mo pa iindahin ang pagkabagsak ng tumbong mo sa kung saan mang palapag dahil hindi naman naging mataas ang pinaglagyan mo sa sarili mong plano. Ilang beses nangyari sakin ‘to at ilang beses na ring nauunsyami ang plano sa bandang huli. Kaya sa ngayon, ayoko munang magplano. Makikisayaw ako sa sandaling ito. Kakandirit kung kinakailangang kumandirit. Magbabackflip kung kinakailangang magbackflip. Tingnan natin ngayon kung may alas pang tinatago ‘tong taragis na tadhanang ‘to sakin.

No bounce, no play.

Ampotah! Caught in the act si Bro at Baby Cat na naglalampungan! Huhlolz!

Sige lang, Art. Laklakin mo ang pitsel! Marami pang reserba!

Bro, pansinin mo ‘yung kamay ni Baby Cat. Hindi kaya sila na’t pinagpalit ka na niya for good? Wahehehe. Peace!

Nasilip ang puta! Hakhak!

Kung gaano kita kadalas ipakyu, ganun ka kahalaga sa akin. Kaya Daddy Dandan, peace tayo! Wahehehe!