GREATEST HITS


10. February or March of 2005: Pitik Mingaw

I don't think us four (Raymond Soriano, Richmond Mercurio, Aura Dagcutan and me) would have another shot at auditioning for the "Pana-panahon ang pagkakataon" drama commercial of McDonald's. Why, I don't know, but it's weird to think that even though it's one time when we would have made the Mush-o-meter burst, it's also one we are all sure we wouldn't want to live again.

We had to dance. Damn.



9. February 2003: Brokeback-tion

Another I don't know: Why I have to end up having lookers for bestfriends. Elementary, Highschool, College.

What happened after our JS Prom back in my sophomore years, though, only has to do with us of my ex-BFF. "Ex-", because, ever since I have confirmed the rumors around our Highschool clique that my bestfriend is a proud and outgoing member of the third sex now, he never talked to me again.

We had a fight a week before the Prom. I was at fault but because I was ma-pride, I didn't want to say sorry, so the cold stuff went on till the Big Night. Having no lovelife yet then, and knowing that he'd surely be spending some night out with a girl anyway, I went home early.

Next school day, I was sent to the Principal's office.

Turns out that my BFF did go out and had his share of beers with acquiantances- and got drunk, BIGTIME. He ended up walking all the way to the parish church near our school and sleeping there. His parents, in the meantime, was sending flames running through our principal's telehone till dawn.

I was told that I was the root of all evil. That my friend sitting already sitting in there said he can't take the ugly things between us anymore. Stuff.

Funny guy, that one.

Michael Angelo Tee, you fag, I miss you.



8. 2004 and ongoing: Dreaming of Caguioa

I have to admit: I forgot Ginebra some time in my life.

Right after Jaworski became a senator, my Kings and I went on some kind of a cool-off. We became long-distance lovers- news about them I catch second-handedly, their losses inspiring me to bawl no more, their players no longer familiar to me.

And then Caguioa came.

Of course I didn't know him. Just back in my first years in Highschool, our sociable Math teacher showed up with this weird hair-do, with his hair in neat, brushed-up lines, sorta like the Allan Iverson dreadlocks. The popular boys in class started teasing him: "woooh, Caguioa yan ser ah!"

Caguioa.

When the Philippine Team played Lebanon, Mark went 0/9 from the field- ZERO BASKETS OUT OF NINE ATTEMPTS. About six of those came from point-blank shots, the type of baskets that would have the statisticians automatically write 2points beside Mark's name on their statsheets, especially because Mark anyway dislodges about four pairs of ankles on his way to the basket. But then, whadoyouknow, Mark made none of them.

And just then Mark pulled to the air for a three-pointer in the 3rd Quarter, everybody expecting him to miss.

And then the ball came drilling its way through the hoop, draining itself loudly down the net.

And then Mark turned around, beat his chest repeatedly with his right fist, then pointed to the Araneta crowd that had exploded all of a sudden. Caguioa had just made his first fieldgoal after 10 tries.

I was brought back to that time when Mark had, in a most contrasting manner, been on fire, barraging in 45 points in a do-or-die with Air21. Back then, tears were salting my face so hard that I didn't get to enjoy the moment that I have engraved in my mind so well: Mark Caguioa being called for his 6th foul, the Coliseum in an uproar, the chant "CA-GUI-OA" echoing all around the walls of the Araneta Coliseum as our ace player went to his bench to receive hugs from everyone.

I Love You Mark.

PS: "Mark Caguioa is the first player after Robert Jaworski whose name became a chant among the fans."



7. First Semester of 2005: I Am Invincible

Ever since Jasper Martinez and I learned that we are both addicts of Battle Realms, we had been wetting our undershirts in drool-waiting of that day when we can finally kick the other's electronic butt.

The day came on a surprise academic holiday and Jasper came with a friend. 2-on-2, he said, to make things more exciting. The narcissistic in me, I complained not, so I conned my dear friend Raymond Soriano into playing with us.

It was Boom's first attempt at a network game.

An hour later, they attacked Boom's base and demolished it. Then they went into mine. Then they cursed me for not reminding them to say their deathwishes first.

I'm still waiting for that day when Jasper and three of his friends would ask me to play with them.



6. December 20, 2006: Paskuhan Got Dumped

Two of the three things I pray for everyday (Yes, I pray, no need to call Ripley's) I enjoyed in one night: my friends and my Ginebra. Well, not really all of my friends, because Boom wasn't there, the reason this here is not in the Top 5. However, it was Paskuhan over at the UST, along with Spongecola, Sugarfree (?) and ohmaygad, ohmaygad, Up Dharma Down and free foods and fireworks and what a wonderful night all in one.

And yet Aura Dagcutan, Richmond Mercurio and Samuel Medenilla decided not to go just to watch Ginebra versus Red Bull with me.

(Or was it because I was treating???)

I was so freakin' happy. And proud. When Red Bull's players came out to a chorus of boos and curses by us Ginebra fans, I was so proud that Papasam and Aura heard it. When my Kings got to the court amidst deafening roars, I was so proud that Papasam and Aura were there. And when Rudy Hatfield buried a lucky 3pointer to seal the game, I was so proud that Papasam and Aura and Richmond got to see me howling with everyone else in attendance.

Aura was depressed after Ginebra won the game. Papasam started to idolize the 6'9" three-point shooting center of Red Bull. Richmond, well, was cool. We ate in a rotting restaurant.

And Ginebra lost in the Christmas Game.



5. December 1, 2006: Szusza Bolera

I was doing the rounds on the blogs of my cyberspace circle when I stumbled upon this comment of Szusza Velasco over at Allan Policarpio's Gagopolis (the rapidly rising blog to overthrow Bob Ong):

"This blog is too funny for words. I'll never get tired of reading your blog and Arvee's."

I didn't get to sleep that night.



4. April 2007 and ongoing: Lost in Love

It cost me a hundred pesos. Originally, the price was P120, but I'm good in stuff like this, you know.

I finished the Midori no Hibi series first though. Bad decision-making, I guess, something I whole-heartedly admitted after inserting the season1 CD of Lost into the player.

Jack Shephard opens his eyes, a forest of bamboos starts circling him, and my heartbeat starts rhyming with his.

Three months and 69-episodes later, my cardiovascular system still hasn't returned to normal.

One of the saddest things that can happen right now is if any of the show's characters die in real life. That's a real queer thing to happen if you think about it- what would happen to Desperate Housewives if Tony Parker forgets to wear a condom one lovely Valentine's night? What would happen to GMA-7 if Raymond Gutierrez suddenly throws muriatic acid all over his brother's face in envy? What would happen to Ginebra if Caguioa gets traded?

My notebooks at home are full of graphic scribbles of what I think is going on at the damn island. My sister is avoiding me, sick of all the pop quizzes about Lost that I drop on her everytime we cross paths. Rainier has stopped calling because all I want to talk about when he does is Lost and how great it is.

My mother still isn't scolding me though because she's yet to learn that I have bought four copies of the 3rd Season, just so that I'd have the perfect subtitles and the perfect audio. Didn't get them though, piracy being lame and all. But it wasn't P200 lost in vain though.



3. June of 2007: Mirage of Three Years Ago

Beatles! "If I fell in love with you, would you promise to be true, and love me, understand? coz i've been in love before, and i found that love was more, than just, holding hands.."

I realized that I have a problem with infatuation and love. Before, I was so awfully crippled with my longing for stuff like Up Dharma and Kiko Machine and even Bee Gees, but I wouldn't touch them anymore now if somebody hands me a complete set of the songs of The Beatles.

I haven't listened to a Beatles song that'd resemble the lyrics of Kisapmata, though, thus "I Fell" I wrote up there doesn't quite reflect my feelings right now.



2. February 23, 2007: Second Greatest Day of My Life

One of the worst, most regrettable things I had done in my life was to watch my first championship experience of Ginebra back in the 90s and forget everything outside that picture of Jawo on the TV raising the Trophy in victory against Alaska.

Bal David as Point Guard, Vince Hizon as the Shooting Guard, Noli Locsin as the Power Forward, Marlou Aquino as the Center. Robert Jaworski as Head Coach.

I don't remember who was our Small Forward, I don't remember who was our import, I don't remember how many games the Finals Series went on, I don't remember who was the Finals MVP, I don't remember who had been our hero that night.

I don't even remember how I had felt back then.

Years later, I fell in love with Ginebra again. Sad thing is that I just can't tie the damn knot. When Ginebra went into the Finals against Red Bull, I watched Game 1. I forgot to watch the rest of the Series, and Ginebra celebrated without me.

The next conference, Ginebra blazed on its way to another Championship series, this time, against Talk N Text. I didn't finish Game1 because TalkNText destroyed us early. I finished Game2 with an unhappy smile, because we only looked like we had Lady Luck to thank for. The Game3 loss I was scolded heavily because I yelled Putang Ina Niyo Talk N Text Fans after seeing all our adversities happy and delighted in the Phonepals' defeating Ginebra by 40. Game4 I gnashed for even worse because Caguioa buried 42 points in vain.

The next outing went on for two overtimes. Halfway through the first overtime I decided to quit watching because all seemed lost, everybody was against us- the opposing fans were annoying, the TNT players were all too good, the referees were paid to make sure we lose, hell, even God decided to put an invisible force field over Ginebra's ring.

And then, over the quite sobs that I was doing up in my room, I heard a thundering ruckus outside.

Ginebra tied the score. I then promised to watch with all my heart the next quarter and sure enough the Kings took Game5.

I was in our JS Prom during Game6. Ginebra clinched the Championship.

http://arveesbored.blogspot.com/2007/02/february-23-2007-if-ill-want-part-of-my.html

Paulo Hubalde. Andy Seigle. Mike Holper. Billy Mamaril. Egay Echavez. Rodney Santos. Rafi Reavis. Mark Macapagal. Sunday Salvacion. Ronald Tubid. Eric Menk. Rudy Hatfield. Jayjay Helterbrand. Mark Caguioa. Coach Siot Tanquingcen. Coach Jong Uichico.

Hatfield went amok. Jayjay danced around topless. Coach Jong rolled around the floor like a pig in the mud. Caguioa wept. I died.



1. Late July of 2004: Cupid Is Blind

It was comical, actually. We were talking via YM and things were getting a little too friendly. Soon, she said her time in the computer shop was almost up. I said "ingat :">". The window went idle for a few seconds then came back up alive for a second before dying permanently with her reply that lingered heavily on the screen and in my heart: "aishteru."

I was like "na...ni?"

On the phone later that night, she raced against herself explaining that it's her friend who actually typed in those japs. Alrighty, I slowly replied. When she sensed that I was probably contemplating on writing to Charo already, she laughed hard then softly said not to worry because the sacred words were with her consent.

I still wanted to write Charo, though.






(just in case. don't call the Obituary editors just yet though, haven't seen myself headless in the mirror headless anyway. as i've said: just in case. Charlie Pace of Lost did the same thing in the season finale afterall, before he wrote my blog's title in his palm moments later. Curious? WATCH LOST. HAHA)

ive decided that ill commit suicide only on three events:
1. my thirtieth birthday, and istill ihavent fooled the gurl im supposed to spend forever with
2. my mother's death
3. when igo blind




nylon cords are my favorite metaphors for the act of permanently outwitting Life. i, however, am not that poetic to have my witnesses watch me pendulum in the air in sync with my heartbeat

the consolation would be the non-CG disturbing effects of the scene, ensuring talks around the neighborhood for long after the funeral. the cost of that however, would be suffocation (and humiliation, with my tongue comically dangling outside my lips like a male genetalia) for about thirty seconds, suffering that not even the promise of life after death could fool me into agreeing




in my sleep iam going to die. painlessly. its spineless, but if ever The Big Guy above starts laughing out maniacally (see three conditions above), ill see to it that iwont be His laughingstock in any way



(the culprit of a bangungot or "lamentation in lala-land" is a person's heavy meal minutes before a bedroom romp. papasam denies this, but something ive read makes me confident enough to be credible. the gist: the pancreas is right behind the stomach. stomach tries to digest the heavy meal. stupid person yawns and horizontally goes to sleep. heavy meal slides down stomach's sides. stomach gets bloated on the side and squashes pancreas. acids ooze out of poor, pissed pancreas. the acids apparently are fatal outside mr. pancreas, thus the manananggals, tianaks or exgurlfriends in stupid person's last nightmare)


(a drawback however will be the corny headlines for the next day: "boy dies from heavy meal; suicide letter in hands")


maybe ill just sample enough sleeping pills to suffice me atleast twenty thousand years in bed. or maybe just a nap in somebody's car







being suicidal apparently isnt synonymous with being gothic: "my soul tingles with your promises of love, the way leaves dance with the whispers of the dead night.. kiss me, oh my sweet salvation, no more of your finger's lovely spite down my wrists please; iwant you now, those cold and piercing lips of yours, oh kiss me, my love."

translation: UGH. iactually dig many things of pure darkness- the clothes, accessories, the artwork, even the gurls. just not their fascination for Reaper's kikay kit


ihad a party-animal classmate in Highschool who showed up one day wearing a wristband made up of bandages. asked what happened, she admitted to slashing her pulse with a pencil sharpener. yes, no reaction more appropriate than whatthehell. interestingly, the last ive heard of her, she goes clubbing with black pendants, black fishnet stockings and black eyebags already. yes, whatthehell







my death: painless, drama-free and sweet


understandably, euthanasia is something iam a supporter of, especially if itd be me whose going to be strapped on those vegetable-support apparatuses


really. idont know how the dim-witted rightists of the Sanctity of Life still manage the old "only God has the right to take away somebody" shit. for me, the sanctity would be saving someone from a reclusion perpetua in his bed with his lungs sounding like darth vader's. being a thinking lettuce doesnt mean that youre living the life of a lettuce no more


yes. iloved "Just Like Heaven" too but im talking about those homo vegetables that suffer a 24/7 view of their ceilings because "only God has the right to take away somebody."


same reason why there wouldnt be any Tuesdays With Arvee in the future







medical chuva claims that a bullet through the temple is an ideal way to court painless death. the speed of the nerve cells in transporting the message of pain from the skin to the brain is greatly inferior to the speed that the bullet will travel through the said mass of gray meat. also, the drama effect is outrageous, as this scene's a cliche already of asian horror flicks, hostage takers and mmk episodes


unfortunately, iknow not of a way for me to get a hand over a gun other than that of House of the Dead's. also, being a journalist (and a student at that) doesnt guarantee this highly technical death. extrajudicial killers surely wont find an FHM or a PBA sportswriter interesting enough to waste gunpowder on. even less so when imake it to those organizations only as an applicant. and yes, im supposed to be talking of self-induced coffin-wishing here, so getting shot at is already out of the question and of my drama-free requirements






another method ifound interesting is electrocution. electric chairs were given emphasis. though eerie, the thing actually tickles the user with bolts merciful enough to render permanent unconsciousness in less than a second. in other words, painless as well


ofcourse, the closest id be able to perform such would be by taking a bath with the TV set, like that guy from the US-version of The Ring. it was a creepy scene, terribly, and im not very sure he was dancing in that tub because its the angel's trumpets he's hearing already







id be playing with my own urn anyway if ever no double-digit automobile cared to kiss me within the next 30 years. my mother's fond of singing songs about our family's loyalty to Osteoporosis, and idont see myself being the blacksheep anytime soon. for now, however, ive cross-fingeredly counted of 12 more years in me


igotta badger someone to text me those carpe diem mushinesses right now

thanks to the abundance of opportunities for meditation, igot to realize that for the past 10months i averaged more than 7hours everyday infront of our pc

interesting to note is that, in comparison, the longest igot to spend with my bed during the schooldays was 7hours already

that was taking the siestas and the regular hibernations together



while idonot necessarily blame myself for my sister's computer illiteracy (she afterall, may sneak up on the desktop anytime im out, which is, more often than what you might suspect), ihave noticed that my relationship with this technological miracle before me here has gone beyond intimacy level already

no, idonot lust over my pc

its ijust that noticed that for me to go through an entire 24hour span without doodling with the computer, iatleast have to be a wreck physically (exhausted, sick, etc) or electrically (brownouts).




the quote that comfortrooms supposedly reflect the dwellers of a certain house doesnt fit me anymore. the computer table'll be a better substitute for it

clockwise from the roof:




a printer.

this thing is a printer only because Epson decided to call it as such. inreality, its a no-good contraption of gears and gray PVCs bunched together to create the illusion that it can draw school papers and projects with ease

it works on the contrary however. itd suck up the papers fed to it and then spit them out beautifully creased and salivated. had its manufacturers believed in what the Vatican calls as "dignity of work", icouldve saved myself five or six ninoy bills during the academic year

the printer's been converted to a sanctuary for spiders and lizards in the farthest corner. its like abortion: the baby suffers because of the actions of the father




a tripod.

this thing's been in this table since christmas already, and every once in awhile icontemplate long enough to consider moving it back to my room, which ialways forget. maybe after this entry, id care to remember

the story behind it: Christ seemed very generous during His last birthday, with us gifted a videocam with a tripod from our relatives in canada. thoughts of documentaries and the sort danced around my head, aswell as recording the Ginebra-vs-TalknText game later. it was going to be televised with a 4hour-something delay, but that seemed insignificant as istruggled to find the best position for the cam and the tripod. then along came somebody in my inbox, telling me that she just saw the official website of the PBA where it was declared that my beloved Kings got spanked by fifteen

my mother had the goodwill to put away the videocam, telling me to just take care of the tripod. it was my father who did it, however, when he got down the next morning seeing the tripod in the exact position it had been the night before




two WorldBook encyclopedias.

letters S-Sn and E. imusthave used them as references for some assignment during the sem, but until now still havent found the time to return them to their homes. im quite a busy person, youknow




audio CD cases: beegees, airsupply, fralippolippi, incubus and the cure.

the annual income of the house's yet to allow any of its occupants to enjoy an i-pod. the computer here came fully furnished with speakers and winamp-mediaplayer, but without that chip thingy that'd allow music to exist within its system

thus, the indispensability of the cd player in the house

the midnight radio feel of those CDs scattered across the desktop must be a relief for my family though. last time igot addicted to music, it were the dresden dolls, muse, kiko machine and giniling festival iwas listening to like iwere deaf




a carpet of used internet cards.

now that idonthave to do unlimitxt on a nightly basis (ahem) and the summer's allowing enough time for round-the-clock yoga, the greatest luxury and time consumer ihave now would be the internet. it's mankind's greatest gift to itself, other than basketball and the PS2

somebody get my pc DSL'ed and iprobably wont even touch my ps2 anymore

problem is, nobody wants to flashspeed the modems in our place. same thing with the cable TV dreams we have

-the black wiring business is pretty prevalent here. the 'jumpers' lord over the skies, not the meralco or the pldt linemen-

as such, the ISP companies have been thanking me lately for my unwavering adoration of their products, which at one time saw me purchasing once every week for a whole month

a 6minute show on youtube'd take about an hour to complete. iwonder what makes them think that ilove their products??




a cologne.

ibrought it with me one time and fished it out quickly when igot home because my baguiobag was poisoned already thanks to the cologne's leaks. just like with most of the things in this computer desktop, the blue bottle's a victim of my indolence




a World Mission magazine.

that thing is the official publication of Jesus Christ's Asian Chapter. my mother subscribes to it, and the contents are not boring, though reclining too much on the masturbation-is-a-sin path. the standard is understandable, ofcourse, and the best thing is that 50% of the entire mag would be talking about the Philippines. all in all, its a good read- a must-have if you love pictures of benedict xvi up your room's walls

also, its a pretty nice mousepad. glossy, smooth, and easy to bend




a charger.

idont usually like taking risks, but for my comfort's sake ibrave even the threats of accidental arson- the charger for my cellphone's plugged into the socket next to the computer table, 24/7

my phone's disabled, yousee. it only knows of four battery charges: full, 80% full, 20% empty, and empty. id charge it for a minute then itd go beeping that its full already. id restart it once just to make sure that the SMS line's free of clogs, then itd be beaming with bright red begging for me to please consider electrifying it

yes. a headache. with a ready charger by the pc's side however, ihave no competitors for the world's most ingenious guy award




my mother's eyeglass.

my mom's nearsighted for life but she's somehow still in the denial stage. shed go with her daily life without the glasses on and would only remember that she's a patient of Hans Optical whenever business comes around- cooking meals, auditing the family treasury, drooling over Yellow Handkerchief (which, in my opinion, deserves a drool really, since its been on TV for more than a year with the plot resembling the six episodes of Star Wars already). for the rest of her activities, she needs the glasses not

as such, she's bought about four spectacles in all. one for the kitchen, one for the bedroom, one for her study table, and one, yes, for this computer table here. shes inlove with Scrabout (or Scrabble). the game's an official business, you have to see




folding bed and pillows.

uhm. no. its the something iwant my computer table to have

iliked the morning schedule of my sophomoric stay at the pontifical academy

4am. wake up
530. hitch a ride on a non-airconditioned bus
630. drop by some specific place ^_^
7. go to hell
11 (MWF) or 1 (TTH). spend time wisely
3. contemplate of going home
4. go home
630. think of what to do
10. go online
1. go to sleep


it gets stretched alittle whenever ginebra's on tv, ofcourse, but most of the time, its the routine my body gets lured to

iliked it

other things ifound amusing with my second year in uste follow:




Lovapalooza

loveteams it seemed werent much for the general discussion of the class without a rainier bulayog to singlehandedly blow at the fires

newbies, understandably, are susceptible to overloaded sugartalk, with all the oh-my-what-a-cute-stranger atmosphere that surrounds them

for example......



-uhm, idont want any angry comments below so id probably detour a little and just pick ebz instead as partner for richmond-

this loveteam was sensational during the firstyear. not only because their themesong happened to be Kaba, but because they actually manifested the classical triangle stories of the telenovelas

fantasy of the class: a catfight between ebz and. uhm. somegurl.

what happened with the year that followed? ebz got away with all the intrigues and coaxes for a full-blown war with some gurl

and only yourstruly remained loyal to that push-edree-towards-richmond-if-theres-a-chance platform that was so prevalent when rainier was around. pft

on lighter issues,

singlegurls almost always maintain a straight-and-merciless-rejection policy for classmates who romantically ask for their hands

their reasons, idontknow but if asked about it, theyd just probably nod their heads toward either apa or arce

lets all hope nothing of the sort happens to 2ndsemester's pula and miggy. we dont want miggy hitting his head on his desk again anytime soon, do we?

okay, next topic already before ants start crowding my keyboard




The Esguerra Effect

do ihave to ask still what that effect might be? yes, you already have it on your face,

the exact opposite of that illegal-drug-symptom was what esguerra had on me

that is, during the first three quarters of the academic year

and, honestly and oh-how-it-pains-me-to-say-this-but, that was because he obviously had been kissed by Perfection

(DISCLAIMER: esguerra's handsomeness, gorgeousness, breathtakingness, godliness or drooling sexappeal wont be discussed here. go write your own blog)

richmond's particularly close to my heart because our similarities overlap exaggeratedly, just not his Join The Club or his face

esguerra ithought may just be the next best thing to mercurio. hes a sports nut, first and foremost (a cliche, but what the hell)

in the dapitan netopia once, we chanced upon esguerra surfing some boxing latest

and then in class, hed talk of basketball even if no ones interested

itdoesnthelp ofcourse that he thinks of ginebra as a bunch of gloria arroyos. but just to hear someone talking of sports (which in UST only meant of UAAP, tsk) with that much sincerety, hey, hes not bad ayt?

the guy's goodfriends with pens, too

during the days ihated him, iread two or three of his articles in the inquirer, preparing myself to establish telekineses for him to know what ithink of his written shits

iliked how he write. damnit

just incase ive established already established the mental connection, ihastily threw in an "anyone could write well with that topic" to save face

plus, he talks trash. now if icould just convert his Christ to Caguioa.....






Explosive Encounter of the Eccentrics

its the match-up thatd have a chance to compete with the Caguioa-versus-Helterbrand grand debate:

EROS versus EMER

preview: filipino versus philosophy. eros and emer have been teammates in the past, leading AB to back-to-back efficiency titles. with emer gonzales now in a new team, its a tough assignment for him to guard against writing stalwart eros atalia, the reigning Palanca Fictionist of the Philippines. emer had been a director of some bigtime department in the UST central affairs once, thus experience-wise, eros'll find him a tough nut to crack. who'll win this sensational match-up? you decide! (include your prediction when you comment)

educational value: EMER. the cliche is that a good teacher is someone who could take down the stars to the level of the stargazers. uhm, no, the husband of lumen in the commercial of surf is an exemption; he afterall is not a teacher, and what he got for lumen were too small to be stars. emer however did just that- simplifying the worlds of gabriel-fucking-marcel enough for a lowly ginebra fan to understand. eros' good too, but the technicalities of the subject he teaches is chickenfeed as compared to robert johann's ideologies on life

educational tricks and treats: EMER. simply because ihated eros' idea of this category- he just went on with that TRICK part of the halloween slogan! (yes, im bitter, igot a 74 with those things he had the class do) plus, emer's responsible for the Encadre requirement, and, well, the rest is history, iguess

fun value: EROS. saying "eros wins the fun value by a mile" would be an insult to emer, ofcourse, who wouldnt be matched up at all against eros if he werent funny. eros however is so comedic it hurts. even though most of his humor comes from rehearsed jokes and antics, it still works - lucky all those incoming sophomores. also, eros' girl is hot. professor-more-interesting-to-befriend? EROS by a mile





"Geh is Not a Great Cook"

thats what ive come to learn as a nice punchline for richmond everytime our group gets into trouble deciding on where to eat

that doesnt mean however, that we have tried geh's cooking already, or have eaten in her dorm for that matter (idontknow with richmond, but isure can speak in good behalf of the others)

it's this carinderia in the Perpetual Street called CELY's (Celis, geh's surname)

the food there promised to be as exquisite as the ones offered at the next-door Lisa's, as they have been the primary protagonists of this article in The Flame one time

our group recently have become fans of the said competitor of Cely's, with their menus there boasting of friendliness and satisfaction

so, on this particular day when we were particularly hungry, we found ourselves standing with disappointed faces as we watched a fiesta over at Lisa's

having no choice, and with our patronage of Lisa's largely attributed to that food and lifestyle feature of The Flame, we decided to give Cely's a try



because it is not actually Cely's fault that theyre so popular despite their ignorance on preparing good meals, iwill try my best to be kind- sort-of:

boom was served with a chicken made of ash

no, really, he asked for a spicy chicken something, and he was given something so spiced up he was afraid to touch it

he wasnt smiling when we got out

papasam, richmond and i decided to be more unique with our orders, and yet ended up asking for chicksilog

they mustve killed the poor poultry with some ingenius new way magnolia doesnt know of yet

what kind of chicken tastes like foam?

my brain spent the rest of the day cussing itself for such an intelligent choice of resto

whats more interesting is that we got to sample our meals only after the entire Bigaten portion of wowowee had ended, and a few commercials

geh, please ask your mom to teach you how to cook, okay? so that someday if ever youd fancy putting up an eatery, nobody would have to curse your surname

no, we didnt curse Cely's, iswear...





Discolights at the End of the Tunnel

though we were reluctant to do the hail-hitler! arm gesture just incase UST'd win and the hymn was played, richmond, papasam and i decided to find some place and watch the Tigers' third championship game against Ateneo

we got to wave our arms the hitley way, alright, but our consolation was that it were for the thomasian spirit

everyone was doing it afterall. with pride and feelings

right in the midst of the celebration, however, the authorities of the building suddenly stripped off their security guard disguises (revealing the letters SWAT) and charged right at where richmond and i sat during the game

there was a bomb

the suspect, a cute little radio, stood out from the rest of the jubilant mob with its silvery skin reminding everyone of the horrors of the social and folk dance PEs

moreover, it had been so carefully placed that it almost looked like the owner just left it by accident

shrieks suddenly overwhelmed the victorious roars of the mainbuilding crowd as everyone tried to stampede away from the innocent-looking device of the devil

the security force of the university finally got to try out their walkie-talkies in public, calling out reinforcements infear that the bomb'd start skinning the thomasians already

richmond and i looked at each other as our schoolmates hysterically but quietly file out of the building

richmond: "diba yun yung radyo na naiwan nung mga ate na nakadamit ng social dance kanina?"
arvee: "oonga, noh?"
papasam: "XD"




no sour loser threats fortunately ensued when the balloons over at araneta fell for the second time in four months, this one for the Barangay Ginebra Gin Kings





iwish AB'd get tons of such dangers this coming year. or else time'd just dart through so uninterrupted that in a matter of weeks, id have to update this blog again with what iliked during my third year in UST..

iwoke up this morning and suddenly realized that iwant to become a sportswriter. grr


to celebrate my bitterness, let me play God with the blogs of the other writers im working with





balisa
owner: papasam

uhm, no, just because its an Ustetika golden conqueror that writes the stuff, it doesnt mean that youd get all sweaty and tensed after going through the entries, as the blog title suggests. youd get a nosebleed, yes, but an intellectual nosebleed at that. plus, Balisa's language and grammar dont shake, and the contents would have to be about sports or music for you to find a flaw

best entry: Balimbing. the Varsi need not stage an Ustetika this year; somebody show them the link to this entry and we can save the University from having to print out announcement papers



chocolate bliss
owner: tin

anyone knows what a rotten toblerone tastes like? wikipedia'd be playing mr-know-it-all with this question in vain. thats because chocolates, with their exquisitiness, do not deserve to rot. idont know why tin allows the beautiful one over at multiply to. and she calls it a BLISS, god. mosses grow on my keyboard everytime icheck her link!

best entry: Her Thing With February. talks about why she boycotted the month for any updates, even though its just feb13 when she decided to do that. maybe she ought to make a "My Thing with the Rest of 2007"?



clarissa joy

it is still a blog, in the strictest sense. although the pictures are so abundant youd swear youre in deviantart; so dominating infact that they make the entries look like mere page-sized captions. but atleast the galleries are hit-makers over at multiply, ayt?

best entry: Her Dorm's Nuns Are Malicious. or so she says. so meat are aphrodisiacs pala huh? now iknow why its a rule for betty to outweigh the viands in his plate with so much rice



dedikadong periodista
owner: xavier

upon seeing the contents for the first time, youd do only one of three things- 1) blurt out "what the-?" 2) blurt out "what the fuck?" or 3) click the back button to see if youve clicked the right link in the first place. yes, reader, the blogger is xavier, the bully over at 2jrn1 so engrossed with his muscles that he seemed to have mistaken AB for IPEA. going over with the blog, however, youd realize that brawns work beautifully with the brain afterall- it can get a little swampy, but what the hell, everyone wants to see a bully cry, ayt?

best entry: Mushiness with Morrie. we get to learn that a body buff like xavier knows how to appreciate bird's tweets and pink flowers like the rest of us, afterall



demons and angels
owner: betsy

betsy's first entry was a blockbuster, registering 36 comments at once. last time ichecked (ihate this cliche, ugh), that entry's a year ago already. iwonder if her computer's still alive.

best entry: Pilot. 36 comments, cmon! maybe we should relocate the Yahoo Groups to wherever betsy hosts her blog.



diary of an insomniac
owner: joshua

right from the start, joshua's declared already of what his webspace is going to be- an EMO blog. iwanted badly to write anything other than agreement with his declaration, but realized that joshua's taken care already of what every review could possibly share, thus to make things short- yes, iagree with him

best entry: Masks. joshua claims that his smile is detachable. iwonder whatd be inside, a grin?



future snow queen
owner: edree (ebz)

her blog's just like an extension of her friendster account, in the sense that her blogs look like testimonials she has for herself. she's a good writer, iassure you that, but itd still be pretty hard to stop yourself from muttering, "am i reading a blog or a ms. universe's campaign site?"

best entry: Guy Allergy. ebz explains why shes still an active member of the NoBoyfriendSinceBirth association. "at 18, is it really a requirement to have a bf?" she exclaims. we'll just sit on the sidelines while richmond makes you eat those words soon, aryt ebz?



gagopolis
owner: poli (betty)

its like bob ong on marijuana- only that betty's better. sure, the layout may be as cool as cueshe, but you dont visit a site just because you like the design, do you (well, this blog youre reading may be an exemption)? betty's well aware of that, thus the high quality of the craps that we get every, err, so not often. but hey, absence makes the heart grow fonder, ayt?

best entry: Betty's Shitty Adventure. or maybe the one about Hermione. or maybe that about Xmas. or, what the hell, do we really have to choose just one?



geh_aini
owner: geh

the gurl talks of nothing but love, her butthole and the soul's favorite chicken soup; is the page just an alternating display of goo-goo-ga-ga-mwah-mwah-s? sometimes, but its not an online Kikay 101 youre finding here; its the world from the eyes and artistic hands of a Kikay. puts to shame the myth that the only things Kikays know are love, prince gians, and paulo coelho

best entry: The Blogger's Poor Asshole. should you feel sorry or should you laugh out loud? or should you cringe when you think of what itd be like when its your butt that hotties play with like dough for non-erotic purposes?



gorgeous pervert
owner: meg

while the blogmistress hasnt heard of humility yet, the pictures available over at her blog provide enough proof to her blog title's claim- that she is gorgeous. the blog entries however, provide another angle at her- gorgeousness doesnt always equate to a partner. ihope some boy other than betty and papasam reads this crap

best entry: FX Adventure. meg's style easily reflects the anxiety she suffered just to see esguerra on an unlucky morning. boohoo. iwonder why the professor's not got that effective on me?



intoxicating nirvana
owner: apa

the first word says it all- intoxicating. metaphors fly in and out so much so that youd think apa's lungs are full of them. for a serious break from all the nonsense this blog has to offer, take a moment to find hers. where the word nirvana fits in, however, iam yet to guess

best entry: Love. the word intoxicates like no other, simply a heaven on earth. apa's discussion takes quite a little farther, though; if you dont manage to lose yourself with her EDSA of speech, youd realize a descendant of Shakespeare is at work here



psycho bitch's realm
owner: louise

the blogmistress' issued a PG warning on her own blog, something people under 18 or without experience with the opposite sex would surely need. you dont expect her to write about how good PDA feels when she calls herself a bitch, do you? and, as any bitch calls for it, her blog's teeming with fascinating morbid one-liners. should she decide to ditch the geeks of full metal alchemist for some, err, heavy metal pics, goth.net'd be folding up soon.

best entry: The PressConference. did adolf hitler fancy something like this during his time? iguess not, with all the studies and stuff that dare to dig up how his past had molded him. louise, however, gave us a pretty nice hole to gape into and -gasp!- we all realize that the absence of mustaches on her face doesnt mean that shes idolizing Maria Clara.



nightmare and dreams
owner: paula (pula)

idontknow why its just 45% of the monitor the blogmistress wishes to use for her blog. claustrophobics could get a stroke from reading. yes, the easy alibi is "for styling purposes." in that matter, paula's dominating- well, if you like gothic stuff, that is. advocates of the Virgin Mary'd get goosebumps with that disturbing pic of two goth kids in love

best entry: Pula's Tae-x-tacy-Tae-tano. its less funny though; consider it Anne Frank's account of the one over at Gagopolis- just that the attic's composed only of the toilet



random musings of a random gurl
owner: nicole

her page's running for the Annual Candy Blog Elections. her platform: spontaneity. estimates have it that she updates her blog more than seven times a week, covering almost all known topics other than sports and sex. nicole's link would surely show up someday in some guy's thesis

best entry: Running After You, something like that. she made that blog for herself, ofcourse, but from another angle, its like its me that shes tirading at. moral of the entry: stalking aint cool. no, actually, its more like, "waiting for someone that aint coming aint cool." either ways, its crosshair's on me



sugarlandelle
owner: ana (amaegan)

the blog with an identity crisis, amaegan's lost in the whirlwind of things to share- so many in fact that she cant decide on what to write on until now. her past exploits include her fantasies, her sports dramas, cute guys with small eyeholes (ugh), and her admiration of Socrates. too bad, ana- Socrates is dead. your blog can do other forms of mourning other than staying stagnant

best entry: Sa Ulan, Sa Pagbabalik. okay, considering that the only psychic in class is detached with the online community, ill just have to take a wild stab at that what that entry title meant: amaegan's inlove! remember how san-chai told dao-ming-se off late in the series? case closed; youre busted, amaegan



tetskipop
owner: tets

its generally believed that with other people's writings you could hear their own voices, like you were just listening to their narrations. other blogs, like that of betty and papasam, are so nosebleeding that its easy to dismiss the quote as nonsense. *tets suddenly barges in from nowhere* what the F are you talking about?! thats so not true, noh!
alright tets, im sorry.

best entry: Faking It. iloved the title. so far, its the sole entry on any blog that has made look a fool to myself, and the only one that has proven im not supposed to be beatified anytime soon. the entry's about dancing. great.



tryst
owner: mayi

if its your first time, dont go for the X icon in the corner just yet- "tryst" may be something you missed from the startrek saga, but the closest thing to rocket science princess mayid'd discuss is how traffic lights work. the rest, theyre reader-friendly; too friendly at times, even, as its easy to mistake the entries as mere transcripts of what mayi says whenever shes facing the mirror, doing cute smiles

best entry: Pilot. just the first and mayi's exploding already of stories to tell, lacking fortunately of the blur-fast presentations our dreams usually employ. iwish shed discuss of her ginebra-fan-boyfriend and their love for mark caguioa



yaoi is not her life; its her religion
owner: szusza

iwonder whatd be wrong with the sentence if yaoi came to be her life; what if she became an atheist later, for example? such nonsense ideas die at once upon entering the colorful world of missP's, though idoubt if youd be seeing this site at all if you got an anti-porn filter installed. and well, thats too bad, because even Yahoo (or should it be Yahoi?) prays to God that szusza be his blogmistress someday

best entry: the one where she thought that bloggers all over the world are mistaking the internet for their toilet bowls- on a DAILY basis. see, im so inlove with that quote ive practically made it a cliche here in my blog already!

February 23, 2007

if ill want a part of my life novelized, (novelized, not moviesized. iwont want to get insulted with whoever theyll hire to play the part, pft) my second choicell have to be yesterday. the first one, well thats too mushy for any director's stomach to take




PIGGY-that-just-walked-by-an-abandoned-butcher-house-BANK

-the night before, iwasted my money on a play of miss estella's organization. she didnt even appear
-ilost my spongebob notebook that contained two month's worth of education somewhere in that play's theatre
-my prospect's ignoring me, in every sense of the word, and idontknow why (but she already knows of my intentions from the start. why then the rejection aura just now???)
-iscoured up my bag only to realize that iforgot my ballpen
-the professor in journ told me that ginebra-smb looked like a scripted play
-somebody took home the books i need for a project. selfishness tickles me at the temple
-the anatomy book iborrowed for an open-book activity sucked. it was a dissection guide for anatomists
-ifinally noticed the pile of requirements piled themselves up waiting for me to notice them
-the food in the carinderia took about an hour to be prepared. and it still required money
-infront of a group of collegialas, istepped on a gum


DANCING QUEEN

itold richmond to seduce edree (ebz) by cornering her in a corner and doing an ABBA

the commotion was that ebz and her partner (some junathan guy, iheard) bested five other couples in a slow-dance contest for the gold

what else would a queen want but a king, ayt?

too bad. iwas not in the mood to congratulate ebz when she visited us cheerers of hers later

the venue was an over-sized spa

and the contest proper was taking too long. it had gone for 4 boring (except for the roughly 20minutes our classmates performed) hours already and a special event iwas needed in was starting in about 1 and a half

"iwanted to congratulate her (ebz) badly but meg and the others had teased me even before ihad begun :("

thats by richmond, when we were in the LRT. gossip-lovers, ientrust this information to you



OUTSIDE ARANETA

my face was that of Romeo when he saw Juliet in the coffin (Shakespearean. you better believe it) when we got down the stairs to the ticket booth of the Big Dome

all the seats but Gen Ad already had butts on them. and yet gametime was still 30minutes away

Upper Boxes A and B had SOLD OUT next to their displays, as well as SRO (Standing Room Only)

my words to richmond earlier in the classroom got spitted back in my face

"okay lang sakin yung Upper B, sigurado namang may aabutan pa tayong ganun,, pero kung Gen Ad nalang, wag nlang noh"

ilooked at my friend, and seeing him not reading my mind, ipaid for our tickets and went on to the stairs to the topmost of araneta coliseum



INSULT

we dropped by gen-ad's male CR before entering the arena. was idissapointed

there were no urinals. instead there were rows and rows of tiled walls with dripping faucets at the top

babsy told me the day before that ilooked like someone who used walls for cock spitting. it was an okay joke for me

but that one of the gen-ad

tsk. itseemed to me that the aranetas designed the place specifically for the people thatll be using them:

GENERAL ADMISSION PEOPLE. THE ONES THATLL BE WATCHING THE BIG DOME SHOWS AND WILL BE PURCHASING THE CHEAPEST TICKETS

no words for what ifelt, really. Join The Club iheard watched UST-ADMU Game3 from the ceiling seats

but other than that, discrimination was in the air


mater et magistra (3rd Encyclical of the Roman Catholic Fraternity in Rome)
-the widening gap between the rich and the poor

youre not doing a good job, enforcers of christianity




THE VIEW

even the gen-ad was full. richmond and i watched the game on our feet, the uncomfortable seats of the other thirty-peso paying customers in front of us

that wasnt much of a trouble when the game began, though, thankfully. as richmond offered, icould finally yell and jump all iwant without having to bother with my inhibitions. the venue after all wasnt designed to accommodate the goody-two-shoed-"no-we-must-not-be-too-boastful-and-arrogant-fellahs" type of fans



17,000+

this was a disappointment, too. seeing that much people stuffing themselves in a dome of concrete and steel, iwas confident that the numbers would reach 20k, even with a chance to dwarf Crispa-Toyota's achievements

iwas real bothered with the twenty thousand live attendance of UST-ADMU Game3, you know. it was like another insult: these amateurs are more famous than my professional boyfriends. how sad :(

ipromised myself then that should Ginebra reach the Finals, the sales would be bashing UAAP's pride so hard that itd fold up for sure

but it didnt. despite being sandwiched by the average filipinos from all sides, ilooked at the announcement of gate attendance that indicated no more than 17,999, not even a record for ginebra (the most ican remember since jawo's departure was 18300)

damn ginebra fans



NO HARD-ONs

usually, the astig pba dolls and the extreme magic dancers elicited hoots and whistles from the araneta crowd

for most of the game however, their intermissions produced only dead air

no, thats not from getting tired of the repetitive music they try to move into

ginebra was down by as much as 16 during the game

and danny seigle (SMB) (the gorgeous professor mentioned his name. you must then acknowledge this guy's ball prowess) was even sitting for most of the first 30 minutes

caguioa was having an offnight. ginebra could not do their fastbreaks. my best pals tugade and wesley gonzales (SMB) were hitting their lucky shots. racela's (SMB) mouth was wide open with happiness. SMB's fans, despite numerical INFERIORITY, were squeaking with delight. the trouble of getting tickets for the game threatened to commit suicide in the drain



I SEE MYSELF IN YOU

ill have to watch the game's replay tomorrow just to see where and when exactly ginebra's comeback began

iwas waiting for it so hard that forgetting to mark what play or minute it happened is such a regret for me

but anyway, when it did, the coliseum was in a riot

i managed to use my cellphone's recorder to secure a copy of the moment. ilistened to it a while ago. it was rumbling with araneta's uproars. but nothing still to remind me of the plays that put the place to life once again

richmond told me that the mid-thirties guy beside him was possessed with KiLiG the whole time. yes, kilig, like when your crush's skin brushed by yours. the guy was clapping so girly and so hard that richmond found it hard to suppress his giggles when storytelling later

the guy beside me was more manly. when Sunday Salvacion (Ginebra) hit a big three-pointer, his arms swung down to his hips hard, like he was doing the boom-tarat-tarat with passion. he did it so many times that it became obscene already

a guy two homo sapiens away cringed the same way idid when Billy Mamaril (Ginebra) missed his freethrow. that is, going straight to the wall behind us and hugging it wishing for our deaths already

ipity richmond. hes got lots of stories of geh doing sugar by pinching him on the arms. i, however, was so sugary that he mustve wished iwas geh. iburied my head unto his shouder when Jayjay (Ginebra) missed a big jumper. ipunched him when Sunday took an out-of-balanced three and missed it. ishook him around hard when Hatfield (Ginebra) got a nice lay-up coming off an offensive rebound. ithink i hugged him more than a few times during the endgame, especially when Sunday buried that long jumper to tie the game, 94 all



WISHING I HAD A REMOTE

one good thing about watching via TV is that everytime the game goes down the wire, ican easily switch to another channel, thus saving my family from hospital bills

freethrows deserve the ESPECIALLY

SMB took a timeout after Sunday tied locked the game at 94, with around 30 seconds remaining. by that time, iwas already breathing and sweating so hard it was easy to guess that ihad just done something impure. my hands werent cold though, thank god

richmond told me later that iwas shaking

Ginebra did a good job on that play, doing defense and making racela look stupid. for some reason however, the ball landed on an open Lordy Tugade (SMB) and time suddenly stopped; ididnt even hear my own shriek

"pano kaya kung puro kamalasan mangyari, noh tol?" iremember joking richmond earlier, on our way to Cubao. "offnight si caguioa, pumutok si Danny S, magdown the wire, tas si Tugayde mkatira ng heartbreak shot? iyak siguro ko nun, noh?"

the ball hit the inner rim, then bounced hard upwards before landing in Jayjay's hands. he took a timeout at once. 16seconds

idontknow how to describe myself then. iwas wishing ihad a remote

when play resumed, bonkers became a tame word. my heart came up with a mantra of its own: ohmygod. ohmygod. ohmygod

they gave the ball to caguioa and araneta roared

(im having goosebumps right now, thinking of 47 struggling the entire night, and yet was given the play to drive down the lane, battling defenders and critics, and going in the air for that game-winning, CHAMPIONSHIP-clinching basket. god, goosebumps again)

but wesley gonzales was too tight on caguioa, prompting him to return the ball to jayjay

at the 4-second mark, jayjay took a screen and slashed through the defense for a lay-up. the ball rolled around the rim for a while (araneta was holding its breath, im sure) before going out. he was going to take two freethrows

iwished again that ihad a remote

how the hell did jayjay ever made those two? can you put a thread in the eye of a needle while a million people watched you?

96-94. with only two seconds remaining, SMB went to Tugayde in the left corner and, covered by two Ginebra players, threw the ball in the ring's direction



SUICIDAL

ithink iwent deaf after that. the balloons started to go down and the big scorebox in the air rained silver confettis. it was one of the most beautiful things ive ever seen in my entire life

(irarely use cliches. imagine how exemption-worthy that line is)

nerissa guevarra talked about how dying while you are at the peak of your happiness is actually a good thing

who wants to go sad after just having the smiles of your life, ayt?

when asked about you, people would go like "atleast he was happy when went on"

youd be unlike they who hugged their necks with nylon only after 1) a break-up with an intimate 2) a loved one's death 3)failing the UPCAT or 4) bankruptcy

you could finally bitcherize "life sucks"

unfortunately, im too much of a coward, haha


THE PARTY

the runner-ups, the San Miguel Beermen, were re-introduced into the court after a slight lull

many of my ka.brgys gave them a polite applause, isuppose with the cliche "thank you for the nice fight you gave us" in their heads

iwas a hypocrite. before, iwas meaning to boycott them and yell even more sour-winner cusses when they took their second place plaques. idontknow what got into me and ipretended iwas an educated fan

hatfield climaxed the first few minutes by removing his jersey and displaying a body more apt for wrestlers. apparently, hes a big fan of Triple H (a wrestler), though that was already obvious when he pointed up to the fans in the left, then at the right, then threw his head back and sprayed water in the air while flexing his muscles- a typical Triple H signature

iwas about to faint then. i ignored the passing vendors of water and iced tea earlier because iwas too busy on the game. iwas regretting that decision by this time

tubid (Ginebra) went up the stepladders and cut the net

jayjay was awarded as the Finals MVP. iexpected and WANTED for him that. caguioa's just the fourth guy in my list. im part sportswriter you know; im not always biased for caguioa

caguioa, meanwhile, was weeping in the pedestal. he was put on the big monitor and the people of araneta warmly cheered. its not hard to understand why many of us love him the most among my other boyfriends



NO NEED FOR EAVESDROPPING

richmond and i watched as the rest of the world slowly filed out of the Big Dome

it felt great

when we went out, the guard was already sliding the gates of the gen-ad close. richmond and i shared a laugh for all the other people upstairs that we left behind

ididnt know if it was just me, but wherever we went, the atmosphere was so light and so contented. richmond related to me that when ginebra last won the championship with jaworski, it seemed to him like it was the entire philippines that celebrated. cubao, to me, as little as it is, felt like nirvana already (does heaven really feel that way? ibetter start spreading goodwill if thats the case)

while waiting to cross the pedestrian, a motorcycle passed by, the driver shouting "panalo ginebra! woohooo!" and many in the crowd we were in raised their arms and cheered with the driver as he went on his way. alright, iwas one of them

a van drove by, a banner of the team hanging down from its windows

another motorcycle crossed; the driver ecstatic, too

a group we passed by was hollering "Salvacion!! (Salvation)"

another one was talking about tubid, but we were passing by so fast it blurred at once

outside, the fastfoods were all full, and table after table you could hear happy opinions about the game

some gurl was trying to establish eye contact with richmond. on less moody days, whenever that happened, iwould have distanced a little from my friend- idont want to spoil the girl's view, get it?

but that night, isticked against richmond even more. iwas happy, hell, but iwasnt letting anyone feel the same way via non-ginebra routes. let her fuck somebody else



GOODNIGHT

iarrived few minutes before one in the morning. iwas still high. iwanted to update this blog immediately, but then ialso knew that ihad just 2 or 3 something hours' worth of sleep the night before. plus, the dream wouldve been terrific

iremember no dream however

maybe thats because i already had lived it 14 hours ago








ilove cheesy lines

iwas supposed to update yesterday evening, but idecided to postpone it till today just incase something more interesting came up in my dreams

and something did



the last time ihad an action-packed subconscious theatrical play was right after jaworski left the Kings for the Senate and the team was making me feel more of the loser that ialready was

my sleep had me in a ginebra jersey guarding against then dominant Bong Hawkins of Alaska



action-packed

you know, the kind of dream thatd have your heart screaming 'just quit Silent Hill damnit!' after

what ihad was no asian flick re-enactment, however




for some reason, iwas given by some blur-faced guy 800 pesos right outside SM Quiapo

iknew some of the money was mine; mr.charity instructed me to buy something for him with the rest

alright, so icontinued on my way to the bus stop, all the while trying to fit the bundle of bills inside my purse

(the arvee in the dream was pretty stupid. hes a regular of the place and yet hes still not aware of Quiapo Survival Lesson #1?

FLAUNT YOUR WEALTH ONLY IF YOU WANT PEOPLE MUTTERING 'lets see how youll look like in 5minutes dumbass,' UNDER THEIR BREATHS)

iwas having a hard time pursing my money when inoticed that iwas walking straight to three biceps

yes, they looked that big, one of them even with a serious case of beer belly

they saw the money first before they saw me; no one could mistake the twinkle they had in their eyes for anything else


i instantly ordered my legs to go on reverse, but somehow they were on an autopilot; "the play has to have a story, youknow," my mind was sneering at me

so, my feet brought me to the three goons. iwas already stuffing the money in my pocket, but mister stomach was already reaching for the same place

i initiated the action part of the play, however. ijumped high and, waving to the usual big crowd under LRT1-Carriedo, shouted HELP

yes, that was action

all eyes were on us, ofcourse. isprinted out of my friends' grips at once and started for the bus station

the bullies were on me the very next second. thank god some DVD vendor pounced on them before they got their fists on my pitiful body

idashed fast to a half-closed store in Plaza Sta. Cruz
(its an open area near the LRT Station.)
(dream arvee was real stupid, im concluding now. the LRT Station had dogs as well as beer bellies in police uniform, a much safer place. the hell)

going under the the shutter and grabbing the security guard in the store, i half-hysterically asked him to make the bad guys go away (awful, that sounded soooo gay!)

then mister sikyo pulled out a knife, made it kiss my ribs, and asked me to hand over my money. the hell. just P800 and iwas already in resident evil?!?

iheld back his wrists with all my might (which isnt really mighty at all) so iwont have to die a painful death. mister sikyo wasnt that strong, must be, unable to out-arm-wrestle an anatomy model


the three goons suddenly arrived, bumping themselves on the store shutter.

mister sikyo was distracted for a moment and i immediately went for the rest of the store, climbing the spiral stairs

its just P800. irepeated to myself. damnit



ididnt know how it happened. its possible ofcourse, since my mind was wanting me to piss in my pants so it could tell me theres a camera nearby and im in WowMali

two of the goons were already waiting for me upstairs. they looked even bigger, meaner, and well, fatter

one grabbed me, but somehow, we're at an unfriendly edge of the floor, so he couldnt possibly shake me and unpolitely ask for my money

he was so fat he was losing his balance. ipushed him off like he were a balloon and down he went, crashing on the escalators (ESCALATORS! a second ago icould swear they were stairs!)

the second goon looked at his friend below and stared. isupposed he wanted me to push him, and itried but he wouldnt budge. this time, he finally noticed me and played strangle-the-protagonist. itried pushing him away but instead, he fell down right next to the first goon

seeing them look like splatters of flesh and blood below, ifinally realized imust be dreaming. ithen imagined the ground they were lying on to earthshake a crack on itself, then open and gobble them up, licking them with tongue of flames

nothing happened, however. my mean mind, grr


ithen took another escalator down the store and out into the plaza again. a bus was passing by and iboarded it at once

it was unbelievably full. ihad no choice but to stand in the corridor

as the sunset rays made me sweat, iremember putting on the kind of smile that usually, in the movies, cued for the screen to fade to black and the credits to roll over





ive never been held before with a knife or a gun and im so thankful for it

swindling's been tried on me, however, three or four times already, and again im so thankful none had worked so far

my first time was when this guy stopped me on my way to the tricycle station. he was asking me for directions to a non-existing towing service shop in LasPinyas. he then offered to give me P200 just so ill accompany him to the place, which he promised would be strangely near

irejected him

(imade that sound romantic on purpose. hah, gurls dont always get all the fun)



the joke that youd have to walk atleast once in the flood just so whatever's flowing in your veins'd be finally of St. Thomas is funny. the other one, that youd have to be robbed atleast once in the four streets that guard the Saint, however, isnt

im too emotionally down to write anything thatd proudly bear my signature




ireceived the news that Sidney Sheldon (world’s greatest novelist, that is, unless papasam decides to dethrone him) is dead during a basketball game in araneta coliseum. iremember being too happy with what iwas watching then, thus denying him the sad respect that he deserved

iwanted to offer a tribute by listing all the quotable quotes, killer lines, clichés and big bangs that his novels have to offer. getting lost (as usual) however, with his greatest, the Other Side of Midnight, ihad no choice but to admit that doing so would require an entire book in itself

thus here, ishall be listing only the story of the said novel, during its seventh chapter. the goody-two-shoed protagonist, Catherine Alexander, became William Fraser’s (a Washington D.C. biggie) intimate partner after the guy bedded her during an after-office workout. id be doing the narration and the comments, with the old man taking care of the literary blows

its interesting, she thought, how the things other people do seem so horrible, and yet when youre doing them they seem so right. when you are reading about the sexual experiences of someone else, its True Confessions, but when its you, it’s the Ladies’ Home Journal
(Catherine’s insight of her being William's unofficial wife)

Contrary to what Fraser had said, sex with him did not become more exciting, but Catherine told herself that sex was only a small part of a relationship. She was not a schoolgirl who needed constant titillation, she was a mature woman
(about men that boasted of their brilliances in bed. On a lighter note,,, soooo schoolgirls really ARE vulnerable to unChristian acts, after all, huh?)

Catherine: Its like another world. I envy your growing up here
William: Do you think youd like living on a farm?
Catherine: This isn’t exactly a farm. Its more like owning your own country
(Fraser takes Catherine to his parents’ home to introduce her. Well, ijust liked how she made William look like a craphead…)

William: Did you enjoy the evening?
Catherine: Very much. I liked your parents
William: They liked you too
Catherine: Im glad
And she was. Except for the vaguely disquieting thought in the back of her mind that somehow she shouldve been more nervous about meeting them
(Actually, the word Catherine used much earlier was CURIOUSITY. Do you get that, being merely curious with seeing the couple that gave life to your future-husband?? Now ladies, the next time mr.suave snatches your heart off you, make him take you to where his elderlies live. If you start feeling a little too kris aquino-ique, then that mister suave aint yours)

(in Los Angeles, Catherine Alexander meets Larry Douglas, the hormone-spinning two-legged-son-of-a-bitch that made this novel stand on the pedestal. Larry stalks her for a while, and in this scene, sends her a glamour shot of him with a love quote)

Cathy’s secretary: My God! Is he real?
Catherine: Fake. The only real thing is the picture its printed on
Secretary: (watches in dismay as Larry gets torn) What a waste. Ive never seen one like that in the flesh
Catherine: In Hollywood, they have sets that are all front- no foundation. You’ve just seen one
(bitterness on my part why i included this, iguess. Go Sheldon.)

(Catherine meets Larry in a restaurant. Apparently, Larry and William were good friends. Larry’s revealed to be an ace pilot of the air squadron from London)

Catherine: How were the English girls?

Larry: They were fine. Of course, I didn’t have much time for that sort of thing. I was busy flying
Catherine: (in her head) Like hell you didn’t. I’ll bet there wasn’t a virgin left standing within a hundred miles of you
(What a nice line. That’s no exaggeration of course. Sigh, Mark Caguioa, why did I end up being anybody but you…)

(Catherine’s getting bombarded in the office with calls from Larry. At first, she tried ignoring them, then somehow decided to talk to him for one last time)

She waited for another call from him all afternoon. He had not called by six oclock. Why should he?, Catherine asked herself. He’s out laying six other girls. Youre lucky. Being involved with him would be like going to a butcher shop. You take your number and wait your turn
(Fucking analogy. But still, what a nice way to be butchered. Ahem. Im speaking for the femalekind, ofcourse)

(Catherine saw Larry standing by her car, looking like Adonis and Venus’ offspring)
Catherine: Don’t do this to me. I want you to leave me alone. I belong to William.
Larry: Where’s your wedding ring?

Catherine: For God’s sake, what do you want from me?

Larry: Everything. I want you.
Catherine: Well, you cant have me. Go torture somebody else.
(This just hits off my novel-reading mood. Makes me laugh. Makes me feel sorry for that gurl there I stalked once XD)

(Catherine inevitably ended in Larry’s bedroom doing the William-Fraser-bashing ritual. Iguess it is kind of erotic, though if youre as grim as me right now, you wouldn’t be able to care any better)

(Catherine’s suddenly having troubles now that shes experienced what a wonderful man Larry was in bed. And suddenly, afraid that this one-night-stand might indeed become a one-night-only)

Well, she had nobody to blame but herself. She had known what she was getting into. No matter what happens, I must never blame him. I walked into this with my eyes and my legs wide open.

(Funny quote. XD)

Five oclock in the morning. William Fraser’s house.
William: ..Hello..?

Catherine: Hello, Bill. Its Catherine.
William: Catherine! Ive been trying to call you all evening. Where are you? Are you all right?Catherine: Im fine. Im in Maryland with Larry Douglas. We just got married


all that with just one chapter. yes. and now that Sheldon’s gone, no reason to dwell that much time on paperbacks just yet. sigh. he shouldve waited for my name, atleast

iknow, ipromised iwont be updating yet while the PBA’s Finals is still on-going. but ijust felt like it. im singing the when-it-rains-it-pours song involuntarily right now, thus ithought writing this would probably help my insides subside a little bit

Saint Valentine. if you only werent there in heaven, iwouldve glorified your name with a damnyoutohell

iwonder how the mistersuaves of the world do their tricks


listening to Kala’s Jeepney doesnt help much. well, yes, you have the basics there- when to attack, what projectiles to use, how to teem with fighting spirit, how to be vulnerable to phone-number requests

but comeon, can you really imagine me doing the hi-miss-dont-iknow-you-from-somewhere?



a real pretty gurl sat beside me on the LasPinyas-bound bus this afternoon. she was a thomasian archi student, and iwas inside the AB shirt, so maybe, the blood bond had a lot to do with it


ifound myself wishing to transform to richmond



thinking about it now, being him apparently wasnt the best choice. unless the gurl was itchier than gabe (as aura would have put it), there was no way mercurio would have flashed the doll a grin and a conversation-initiating hello

too many stories (and personal witnessing) of his female-eye conquering exploits. none still of a gurl

altho that may be attributed to the side-effects of yet the greatest gurl he had in his life


its not just that wednesday next week is making me feel like the world’s greatest loser for the second straight year



even boom wonders about the skills of the Lupins. imagine, someone as boy-next-door-ique and cuddly as boom, marveling about the people we all thought he was one of

see, boom related to us one of his NLEX adventures. just before he closed his eyes for a nap once, he watched a cute ogling contest between two of his fellow passengers- a John Doe and an Angelina Jolie

when he got knocked out from the mini-slumber a little while later, the duelists were already exchanging numbers

iwanted to strangle him for not observing the lovers-to-be as if his life had depended on it. atleast then he could have shared something more informing than envying. really. too bad boom’s cuddliness got the better of me.



igave miss archi not a single glance after her bottom had touched her seat, not wanting her to mistake me as another one of those guys whose heads she control the movement. ibelieve she had the remote controls for the two men that were in front of us

richmond, richmond…



even mark caguioa is of richmond’s type. iwont be elaborating much, for fears of having competition over him, but in a quick skim, Mr. Furious’ the shy type. he’d have a friend or a waiter approach a gurl for him and just have the seeds of their love fern be planted artificially

unbelievable, huh? FHM titled that interview with him “NO FASTBREAKS FOR THE SPARK?!” in recognition of that unlikeliness

the same magazine, however, once advised: you can do that technique only if your bridging friend looks way inferior to you. ithen remembered my case. iwillingly put it to rest at once



ihavent read yet jayjay helterbrand’s story of how he met and wooed her wife. eric menk is still single, tho once went out with ara mina. caguioa, the fucking hot playboy god of philippine basketball, is intimately friends with lauren hudson, a gorgeous fil-australian model who appears regularly in your local magazines. two or three years ago, he slept with juliana palermo for a while. and even before that, with countless other willing blondes, redheads and brunettes.

no lectures about one-night stands here, though. sex isnt very expensive; its love that costs whatever it is youre having famines of



reflecting further, richmond also probably wouldnt have stood a chance versus miss pretty archi

on her way out of the bus, her smile obstructing her phone-kissing ears, inoticed that her mouth was excitedly chattering even more excited words- the average non-taken listener would have thrown out what he had for lunch

but wait, hasnt richmond already dealt with those kind of challenges before? what if… XD



…
this is my tribute for the feast of the heat. the avenida and recto drive-ins must be full after this Sunday. i, however, have no time for love (except probably during evenings xP) with my suave boyfriends needing my support as they slug it out for the trophy for the next two weeks

my next update will either be the brightest or the gloomiest. wish for me the former

the fourteenth of next month is already swelling despite the page of january still resting over it

and yet istill haven’t given my bestest friends their shares of my Christmas generosities

they don’t seem to mind, fortunately, but i unfortunately do





we cancelled our annual december material sweetnesses last year (thus, technically, iam clear), but the thought still nags



richmond inparticular bothers me the most

we met during the last days of the recent xmas break to unwind and see what luxuries we could indulge ourselves in with our meager finances

‘meager’ apparently wasnt the word for my friend

iwatched richmond exit the LRT station in recto, approach me with apologies for being late, and with a shy smile hand me a small plastic bag

itook the bag as he hit me a gosh-i-hope-youll-be-happy-even-though-its-just-that-pal!

inside was a black Randy Orton™ baller

ilooked up to his face to see it displaying that don’t-worry-friend-its-alright-i-really-just-wanted-to-give-you-something-i-swear look

how iwanted to rearrange that face of his



that piece of rubber costs just a few Osmenas shy of a glittering five hundred peso bill

and the worst of it is that, until now, my wallet’s enjoying a famine

(ibarely had the money to buy a ticket for that first semifinal game of Ginebra. ONE-HUNDRED-AND-FIFTY-PESOS for the semi-faraway seat. iwould have cried had the sonsofbitches lost)



itexted him later that afternoon, imploring him to wait until ican acquire atleast a quarter of the price of that asian treasure he got me. iwarned him that it could even take till valentines. ipromised him that ill get him something smile-inducing

his reply would have been fitting for an Oscar had atleast a peso been present in his phone


itried that WWE slam card collection 7-11’s tried to promote. iheard that the entire book costs about 150, an unbelievable sum considering that a single card required a victim’s receipt to register 60 something pesos

then iwas informed that the P150 thing was only for the ALBUM itself

“youll have to collect all the cards by yourself, sir” which of course meant buying more shits from their store

the kuya then gave me that oh-so-understanding smile. iwanted to erase it with my fist


next, ithought of a PBA jersey. a JAMES YAP jersey. atleast with it he’ll probably realize how sincere ihad been, daring to walk his gift to the cashier and having the entire SM public think of me as another james yap fanatic

and then iremembered ihad shopped for gifts once already. iremembered seeing a beautiful DONDON HONTIVEROS sports shirt, instantly springing ana in my mind. and that when iapproached it, my hands quickly recoiled after noticing the tag

the price catered to PBA players themselves

iremembered bidding goodbye to the Mark Caguioa jersey beside dondon’s


the problem though, is that richmond had already given me something that had professional wrestlers as main buyers

deimn

richmond’s happily living his life right now, complacent and with an occasional toddler mood, without realizing that im in a guilt train because of his Christmas spirit


aura had been the same too, her sweetness taking the form of a spongebob mini-notebook. though richmond’s gift was superiorly more insane, the idea with the gift still pesters:
“aint i a thoughtful? hehehe”

too bad, not even sweet little punky aura could find her way into my budget list. that’s why ihad been extra sugary with her lately, hoping she’ll figure out that her spongebob had possessed me

boom though was empty-handed, like me, and like me, (again, fuk, what an ugly sentence) was kind of unnerved with the selfless offerings we had received by the first classdays of 2007. so still, theres an example in our row where icould emotionally cushion myself in everytime guilt engineer comes around




maybe its Purefoods ishould have prayed for Ginebra to face in the semis instead of TalkNText. atleast when i get to invite for a free araneta game (courtesy of me), it wouldn’t seem like an only-because-you-would-watch-friend on richmond’s part






inoticed that igot carried away, using a lot of the nonsense-phrases-and-words-clustered-to-make-sense chuva. tsk, goes on to show how untimely and uninspired this update had been. sigh, if it weren’t for you, miss P…

now that my plans of academically going to the Big Dome this week were jeopardized last Friday, im thinking of scouring Quiapo to save my well-being in my Journ subject



DEFINITION OF TERMS:


1. “plans of academically going to the Big Dome this week”



the prelim test in Journalism is to take the form of a feature article protagonizing some plain jane’s amazingness. to be passed monday next week

knowing no one that groundbreaker within my daily life, idecided to set my sights on that thing ishow reasonable writing skills in: my pba basketball team

(cmon, even the gorgeous professor appreciated my work about them! you should start feeling the same too!)

iwas not thinking of interviewing any of the players though. it wouldnt be nice to reminisce over a conversation that had me stuttering and faking laughters just to cover my girly feelings for them

theres this big, fat, black guy that attends every araneta game of the pba, especially ginebra. multiply me by a million times and youll probably get him

ihavent seen anyone take off their shirt and wave it in circles over their head just to diss the opposing fans. not even in the nba. idont think you have too, either

once, when our team’s backup center took a point blank shot and missed, hell, the fat guy exploded and cursed him. a lot of us fans simultaneously did the same too but we got overwhelmed by one man

he does a huge belly dance everytime there’s a timeout and the momentum’s on our side. its not erotic but us taga-barangays always get horny




2. “were jeopardized last Friday”

ginebra though would still be inactive for atleast seven more days

the teams that will play this week, before that Friday night im talking about, will consist at the very least of my three hatest teams on the league

there is no way iwill pay P90 or something just to see my chest’s thorns play and try to end the night happy (only ginebra deserves that, ahem)

Friday night was the game for the last spot in the quarterfinals, meaning the games for this week (non-sports enthusiasts, are you still getting me? gad, what a sweat it is to share your passion with the plainest technicality possible!)

Air21 versus StaLucia. the former being my 2nd favorite, the latter being my 4th hatest

if air21 wins, atleast ill have one team in the araneta ican cheer for, negating some of that P90 bitterness, plus a chance to interview mister-arvee-gone-crazy

it was the first non-ginebra game in my life that i ginebracally enjoyed

however, (saving you from all the other technicalities ifuckingly loved during the game) air21 lost. pft. the fans must have been so terribly sad

now, my four annoyances in the ass have gathered in the quarterfinals. im boycotting ABC5 this week

looks like ill be bonding with my fat alter-ego another time




3. “im thinking of scouring Quiapo”

Quiapo's like my third home already. lots of housemates ican approach for help. there are vendors, prayer peddlers, pirates, fortune tellers, and well, ahem, prostitutes

im particularly interested with that last one

eh, imean the second to the last!

ive always contemplated in the past, during my cheesy i-so-want-to-die-god! times, that before icommit suicide, imust have the chance to consult my tarot-oriented future atleast once

im not thinking of death right now, not that ginebra’s got their pinkies in the trophy and my lovelife a bit smiling

what the cards have to say about me, though, istill am genuinely interested in

the only problem now is the price and the best psychic to approach there. from their banners, they all have been sent by Yahweh himself




4. “save my well-being in my journ subject”

not that icare about what he thinks about me. since the second he stepped in the doorway, my middle finger’s always had the hots for sex symbol

but iadmit that the guy IS good, not as good as paita or funny as betty, but a born writer still

gawd, just writing that last line’s causing me to lose consciousness