Tuesday, April 29, 2008

Kwentong Conan

For possibly the coolest thing in the universe, I hereby nominate and vote for The Barber Shop Shave.

Thursday, April 24, 2008


News reports say the archdiocese of Cebu takes this stand on that canister-ass-video-internet thing: if you all want the heads of the medical staff involved, you'd be wise to blame the victim (for being what he was) as well.


Open Water

Gasping for air, struggling to keep afloat, he tried to claw his way out of the hell which was for him bespoke. No matter his denial, it was to him clear: neither the silver on his left nor the gems on his right could save him, could stop dead his fear. So with one last effort, with the light in his eyes reduced to but a speck, he lifted his hands and clasped the gold chain around his neck.

Friday, April 18, 2008

April 18

What it truly is, is grossly over-rated. And fake. What you have is nothing but a group of idiots who suddenly found themselves moneyed and with access to almost every pretense available. That's what it is. And it is shit.

But you know you like it.


Dig dis: M’name iz Smoodah-Ez an’ dam straight I’s da best. I got dem rollz o’ dollah billz coz I’s got dem dam skillz. Wid da mic in mah hand, I’m-a one G band; whippin’ out da ryhmez you’s can’t buhgin to underztand. Zix-foot-five wid da smoothas dang jive, you’s be kickin’ an’ zcreamin’ when I’s come atcha live. You’s bettah watch out when I’s buhgin to wail; coz I be comin’ atcha fazt like a dang skul bus for sale. Smooda-Ez awt.

Wednesday, April 16, 2008

Dust Off Of Yer Feet

An aunt of mine is terribly fond of sandals. In fact, as far as I can remember, I’ve seen her wear nothing else. She particularly likes those leather ones with soft insteps (though I think she’s been bitten by the lightweight rubber sandal bug nowadays); I can imagine those must be utterly comfortable. She’s got at least a dozen different brands, but to date she’s been raving about a pair of Naots she recently purchased. Swears it’s like walking barefoot minus filthy feet. Women and shoes, eh?

Sure Shot 9

continued from Sure Shot 8

As he rushed about the smoky, dusty, debris-filled corridor outside what served as his fortification just several minutes back, something caught his right foot. Before he could even look to see what it was, he lurched forward in free fall. He hit the floor hard.

“What the …?!”

There, amongst the rubble, lay what appeared to be a LAN cable-still attached to a port on the wall. “This building looks relatively newly-deserted.”, he thought, “There’s a good chance these cables might still work.” He went for his leg pocket and reached for his portable. “While I’m asking for miracles, might as well pray that this cable’s CAT5e.”

With his portable hooked up, he started trying to get through to someone at the agency.

to be continued...

Tuesday, April 15, 2008


“You’d best leave that to electronics experts!”

Those were the last words to come out of my brother’s wife’s mouth before the entire kitchen smelled of burnt wire and grease. The brave lad had thought it fit, since he had only recently succeeded in making one of our electric fans function properly again, to get his hands on (and in) an old TV he had just bought from a neighbor’s rummage sale. He was soon cleaning the kitchen floor thereafter. TV, 1, wannabe handyman, nil.


I was a pimply kid back in the day. Nothing vulgar (well, they do call it acne vulgaris) though, thank God, but still just enough to piss one off on occasion. One of the funniest things I remember about those days is that there never was a shortage of people offering advice on natural acne treatment. Well, natural in so far as absolutely no pharmaceuticals involved. Suggestions ranged from recycling otherwise expelled bodily fluids to fantastic combinations of fruits and vegetables. It’s a good thing my hormones eventually settled down as I was really not looking forward to literally having egg on my face.

Monday, April 14, 2008

Wheat Bran

Never knew Branson, Missouri had a claim to being the “Live Music Capital of the World.” Even if that weren’t true, it looks like there’s still tons to do out there—with activities ranging from museum tours to spelunking. A travel agency called Branson Getaways offers eight different tour packages, plus the option to customize your vacation. They’re also associated with over 30 inns, hotels, and other places to stay in while visiting. Silver Dollar City appears to be an excellent place to see; it’s a theme park set near the Ozarks and apart from the thrill rides, its interesting attractions include dozens of craftsmen and artisans who show visitors the practices and skills used in their crafts during the 19th century. A proverbial walk back in time, I suppose. Oh and yes, they’ve got a free vacation giveaway thing going on so I guess that’s worth a look. Overall, the vacation and tour packages seem tailor-made for families and people looking for a quick break somewhere close to home, so Branson is a good option if you fall into any of these categories.

Thursday, April 10, 2008

Sure Shot 8

continued from Sure Shot 7

He stood up, went to the door, and dragged the body inside. “Unless you’re some sick psycho serial killer, you should NEVER leave a business card.” He could still hear these words twenty three years after they were spoken. “I was taught well.”

“They’re taking the flanks. Weak bastards can’t even rush one man head on. What’s the world coming to?” He looked back at what was supposed to be his fort, as if sorry he wasted all that time and energy, and started to head out the door.

He exited, took a sharp left, and started to crawl forward. He was soon face-to-face with beautiful white sands, a couple of cabanas, and a gentleman and his scantily-clad lady friend. “Speaking of business cards…” It was a brochure for St. Barts villa rentals.

He looked around where he was. “Talk about rubbing it in.”

to be continued...

Sure Shot 7

continued from Sure Shot 6

In that brief moment when he lowered his guard and quiet recollection of life back home took over, all hell broke loose. His assailants decided to soften him up with an initial volley of RPGs; and this, as expected, basically tore up the front of the building. Through the smoke and falling debris he could see them make their way through the rubble. “Fifteen… sixteen. Sixteen. I think I still got it; you’d think two or three would be enough for an old man like me.”

Still in his blind, he peered through a small gap and saw the last of his attackers stationed at the door, working on something contained in what looked like his father’s old Rimowa pilot case.

“Gas. They’re going to smoke me out.”

He quietly screwed on a suppressor on his Glock and took aim. And then there were fifteen.

to be continued...

Wednesday, April 02, 2008


It could have been any day from twenty years ago. I was where I usually was. I was doing what I usually did. I was hearing what I always heard. The spectre smiled, so did I. And for half a second, for the briefest of moments, everything was where everything should have been. Only everything was not. Soon the warmth brought about by the cool air was gone. Comfort again a memory.

Carry me home.


“Did you just say you’d like to get your hands on some Orovo? I thought you hated fad-slash- instant-easy-peasy-chuck-in-a-pill-to-not-be-fat-anymore stuff? Particularly the so-I-can-get-into-my-swim-shorts variety, right? Have a change of heart, did we?”

“No, you idiot. I said I needed to get my ass to Kosovo. Kosovo, you ignorant buffoon, you know—Yugoslavia? Serbia? Ring a bell? I thought not.

"We had a lecture on Eastern European culture in my sociology class yesterday, and despite how troubled that region is, it is a cultural goldmine. Do you know they say that there have been inhabitants in what is current-day Kosovo since the Neolithic era?”


“Merciful Christ.”