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