Friday, September 28, 2007

Not A Cloud In The Sky

I’m sure she meant well. High school, and we were out on an educational trip. The first stop was at a government-run drug treatment facility south of the city. We were shown what one could assume was the “receiving area”. The people there were mostly new patients; still at the very early stages of treatment. Almost all of them still were visibly still reeling from the effects of substance abuse and were suffering varying degrees of withdrawal.

The old horn-type speaker crackled, a few seconds of mind-numbing feedback followed and then the announcement came. “As a special treat for you all, one of our visitors will be singing a song. Let’s make her feel welcome. Palakpakan po natin siya.” Then it happened. By the time Nando and I took a break from laughing our behinds off, miss singer had just begun (no pun intended; wait for it) the second verse of the Carpenters’ hit, “Top of the World”. I’m sure she meant well. =)

Thursday, September 27, 2007

The Diamondback

It was straight out of a Glen Campbell song. Ever since he could walk, Mario was running. He was tired, but was too proud to admit this, most notably to himself, and felt that time was too precious a commodity to waste on frivolities like fatigue. This time, he up and went to disappear in the vast yellow of the South and Midwest. He took Mr. Campbell’s travel log and went the reverse route: Oklahoma, New Mexico, and Arizona. Only he had started his new life as a Scottsdale real estate agent, instead of settling down in Phoenix, as the tune suggested. One typically warm August morning, Mario sat at the edge of his bed, looked up at his bedside mirror, and sighed. “I’m done.” Cold, sweaty hands tried to steady their grip on even colder steel. That was the last we heard of him.

Forty Two

They've got patches for everything now. The nicotine patch, a contraceptive patch, even a hoodia patch, for crying out loud (A patch that helps people lose weight. The Hoodia, by the way, is a plant that grows in the southern parts of Africa. It is said to have a component that sends “stomach full” signals to the brain.). I’d like to see the day when they come up with patches for most of the things we need. Something like an a**hole destroyer patch—they oughta make it something you can fire at potential targets from a distance, as well. You spot a target, shoot, and watch as Miss I’m-Better-Than-You explodes into a trillion tiny pieces.

Stone Cold

Think about it: a “pang-hilod” distribution chain. Possible names, just off the top of my head, could be “Ano ka, hilod?” or “Hilod Kitty” (that might just appeal to children and cat lovers). The humble pang-hilod, or MBET (mineral-based exfoliation tool), is a low-risk, high-yield business product. There’s also virtually no capital required—a strong back and a rudimentary load transportation device are all you need for start up. I’m confident that if one did the market research, one would find a large market of old-school exfoliation fans out there. So there, huge demand + abundant supply + no capital = La Dolce Vita.

Tuesday, September 25, 2007

Anak naman ng ano, oo.

Sure, they can help bring your food to the table. But they're not getting paid enough to wait on you. So it's best you get off your fat ass to get those extra napkins, that additional bowl of gravy, or that glass of water. It's a fast food joint, not a fine-dining place. So wipe that smug, arrogant smirk off of your face and have the courtesy to return the greeting thrown your way and thank them for cleaning your crap up.

Saturday, September 22, 2007

Break and Run

I’m taking the family to Bohol this November. We’re looking forward to the trip; as it will be our first vacation in 3 years and personally, I really need some downtime. I can’t wait for that first morning there: I wake up at the crack of dawn to take some sunrise photos, stare at the water and search for stillness. I take a short hike up the beach to take some more photos and then come back to a hearty breakfast. Ahhh.

Right. Now off to get our luggage ready. Catch you all later.

Friday, September 21, 2007


Call it lowbrow or crude. I think it's smart, well-written comedy. An absolute classic. Ever hear of the "Aso at Guwardiya" sketch? That's another good one.

Thursday, September 20, 2007

Yellow Ain't So Mellow

Been running through my Hendrix collection as of late. I can’t even begin to imagine what was going on inside Jimi Hendrix’s head whilst he was writing Spanish Castle Magic. Talk about riding hard, no? Back in their day, substance addiction treatment was as distant a possibility as was the oft referred to flying farmyard pig. It was fuel for them, and I personally think it did require a substantial amount of courage, and not the cowardice commonly associated with junkies, to drown your body in chemicals, deal with your consciousness on an alternate plane, and then face the crash that came after. Bold as love, indeed.

Wednesday, September 12, 2007

Sure Shot

He thought perhaps it was the animal costume that gave him away. But not unlike some shamed jungle cat who had just watched lunch scuttle away and vanish into the dense undergrowth, what was most arguably the world's stupidest assassin licked his wounds and muttered, as if in a trance, "it was the costume... it was that stupid disguise..." It was like he thought muttering would make the agony of failure go away. The task was fairly simple. The target, exposed--only an aircraft carrier sitting on someone's backyard was easier to hit. Yet, as was fast becoming a habit, he drew too much attention and the mark's bodyguards picked him out before he could even set his gear up. There was a blur of fur, a quick burst of gunfire, and then all he could hear was his own breathing inside the lion-head mask.

To be continued...

Monday, September 10, 2007

For the Love of Limmawen

So that he may hand him his daughter Limmawen's hand in marriage, Apo Timmonen demanded that the young Agnganon present the Alumanggan clan with fifteen acres-worth of assorted flowers and berries, thirty thousand cavans of rice, five thousand heads of cattle, ten thousand pigs, three hundred carabaos, sufficient lumber (only the finest hardwood, of course) to build the houses of fifteen hundred villagers, a small mountain, three rivers, and as many diamond rings as there were in Ingasneg's night sky. Agnganon, in his immense love for the most beautiful maiden the gods had molded out of the rugged north's clay and its cold winds, somehow managed to meet the old chieftain's demands in only two and a half sunrises. Such was his desire to prove his love for the princess.

Friday, September 07, 2007

Shirt Tales

There is absolutely no way I am paying close to two thousand pesos for a shirt. It’s absurd. Sure, they can argue that you’re getting something of very high quality, but you know all you’re paying for is the brand. Think about it—shouldn’t the shirt’s manufacturers be paying you for the advertising mileage they’ll be getting once you start wearing that shirt out in public? I also don’t buy that lifestyle crap they sell. It’s a shirt, so as long as it looks OK and covers you back, you should be fine. Besides, when you’re walking down the street, people won’t be able to make it out from something you can get at a wholesale clothing store. So what’s the point of paying a considerable amount more? Oh and if you’re wearing clothes to get all sorts of attention, I’ve got a jacket that’s right about your size. Give me a call.

Plumb Pie

What if plumbing fought back? What if Johnny Drainpipe had someone to run to every time someone tried to shove a soda bottle down his, well, pipe? What if there was an elite group that fought back whenever and wherever pipes, fittings, and their brethren are forcibly stuffed with hair, plastic and other non-degradable material?

Now there is. In the tradition of Chuck Norris and his mighty, terrorist-killing kung fu fists comes:

Delta Faucets.

Five faucets, one mighty force. Delta Faucets—they’ll "sink" plumbing abuse dead.

Couldn't Stand The Weather

In one of my weirder dreams, I am flying in stormy weather over angry seas—with an adoptive flock of seagulls that had brought me up as one of their own. I look below and see only the white tips of waves breaking all over each other as they earnestly try to reach a distant, unseen shore. Darkness is all around me; the sky so dark I cannot even see the wing of the seagull-brother flying beside me. Up front, with the lead seagull lighting the way with a torch firmly in his beak, we see a smattering of small islands just beyond the horizon. We prepare to land.

Wednesday, September 05, 2007

Ban On The Run

I don't care if even Django Bustamante, one of the old-school pool folk, uses it. People should seriously start thinking of banning the jump shot from professional pool. Heck, I'd go so far as to side with Earl Strickland on this issue; he says, "It takes away the beauty of the game. You see someone like Efren (Reyes) play a beautiful safety..." only to have his opponent jump over balls instead of playing the angles. Sure it's a skill shot, but I think it's best left to trick shot competitions and that the pro game would be better off without it. My regards to the players from Chinese Taipei.