Reply! Reply!

I envy Jamiroquai's Jay Kay in an astronaut suit driving around the city of London in a cool go-kart that I imagine is designed to fly over moon craters.

I love the whole idea of it that I wish I could do that right in the Makati Business District on All Souls Day or Good Friday when the streets are abandoned.

Love the video. Man, even the geeky impression of a working man dancing the bat out of one's soul (ala Hugh Grant in Love Actually) is nodful.

Love the funky music (Come on, who doesn't love Jamiroquai?! They've got a flurry of music awards to pour the beer over.)

Don't ask me the title of the song played on that video, though. Er... because.

I forgot.

Buuut if you want to hear their latest release, Runaway, I got it right here. And it's the live version recorded from their November 16 concert in London. It's a 5.19 mb mp3 file.

Yes, you may download and start playing it (especially in a loop). Let those toes tap and just get away with it.

###

Sometimes when you're having a convo with someone, the people around can't help butting in.

Okay lang if it works to your advantage.

NICA: Ayoko nang it-text ka.

ME: Bakit?

NICA: Nakakainis ka i-text. Di ka sumasagot.

KRIS: (Butts in) Ganyan talaga yan! It's either di yan sumagot or bukas na yan magre-reply sa yo.

ME: Di naman.

NICA: Oo,'no! Tinext kita kahapon di ka man lang nag-reply!

ME: I texted you back. (Pauses) Ano ba yung text mo?

NICA: Nakita mo na. Di mo nga alam kung anong tinext ko.

ME: Yung na-receive ko, sabi mo, ingat sa pag-drive.

NICA: O tapos di ka sumagot.

ME: Kelangan ba ng reply yun?

NICA: Syempre!

GERI: (Butts in) Wacky, ang sinasagot dun, thanks.

RUTHIE: (Butts in, to Nica) Masanay ka na dyan ke Wacky. Mamamatay ka na lang, di pa nya nababasa text mo.

NICA: Sayang lang yung pag-aalala ko.

ME: It's the thought that counts. Thank you, ha.

NICA: Ay naku! Late na. Di na kita ite-text kahit kelan.

ME: Drama naman nito, o. Next time, di ka pa nagte-text, papadala ko na yung reply ko.

The following day, I sent her this sms...

ME: Ehem

NICA: Wow! You texted me! Nagpaparamdam ka ha!

A few secs later, I received a new sms alert but I didn't pick up my phone. When I was near the office, I remembered to check my phone for any messages. There were 8 sms in my inbox and one of them was this...

NICA: Papasok ka na?

Tsk! She's going to nag me again.

Look. I do read my sms, especially when I'm waiting for someone to answer me back thru text.

Oo na. Double-standard.

###

I had dinner with my colleagues on Saturday night. We chose oriental and ate at Northpark in ATC to avoid difficulty in parking. Kris ate most of the food and Nica had to remind him that his appetite is ruining his diet. A couple of months back, Kris started working out to simply shape up and tone his abs.

Mikey, Randy and Jay arrived late. By that time, Kris had consumed almost everything on the table.

Yan si Kris ang masarap dalin sa eat-all-u-can. Di ka malulugi.

* * *

kids should know that...

Kay grew up with his Jewish mother Karen Kay, a cabaret singer and impressionist who performed around the world, and his step-father, James Royal. He did not meet his biological father, a man of Portuguese origin, until 2003. With the exception of a twin brother who died at birth, Kay had no siblings. He was educated at the independent Oakham School in Rutland. He spent six months in Thailand at the age of thirteen with his step-father. When Kay was young, he was homeless and survived by committing petty crimes. After an incident with the law, Kay decided to clean up his act and focus on music. He gathered other musicians to make the band known as Jamiroquai. (wikipedia)

clock in

I’m a hostage to my work from 9 to 6.

When I start my day, I’m the exact opposite of myself after work. I’m not cheery because I’m grumpy. Still, I remain approachable. But I guess my colleagues already know how I am so they give me space and aim not to disturb me for at least the first 2 opening hours.

I always look forward to my lunch at 3. On hand is a ham salad on diet wheat bread. After the 60 minute break, I begin my 2-hour countdown to end my day.

In between work, I take short breaks to light a ciggy outside the building. It also enables me to grab something to snack on like buchi and skyflakes. Oftentimes, the ladies offer what they have to make sure I've something to fill my stomach.

I work hard. And I feel good about it.

At 6, I don't head home right away. I stay behind for an hour just to check on my colleagues. It is during this time that I try to keep quiet so as not to distract them. But it's tough to do just that when they know that I'm done with my work. Somehow they seem to think that they found an open line and start calling me. So I constantly move around, hopping from one station to another, dipping my hand in whatever snack they offer (that I'm allowed to eat), "downloading" whatever gab and "uploading" info that has completely nothing to do with me. These ladies call this habit chika.

Thursday is going to be Thanksgiving and my office will be celebrating it with our US clientele.

And why not?

There's a lot to be thankful about and number one on my list is the job I keep.

* * *

kids should know that...

In the 1920s many of Macy's department store employees were second-generation immigrants. Proud of their new American heritage, they wanted to celebrate the American holiday of Thanksgiving with the type of festival they loved in Europe. In 1924, the employees marched to Macy's flagship store on 34th Street dressed in vibrant costumes. There were floats, professional bands and live animals borrowed from the Central Park Zoo. At the end of that first Parade, as has been the case with every Parade since, Santa Claus was welcomed into Herald Square. At this first Parade, however, the Jolly Old Elf was enthroned on the Macy's balcony at the 34th Street store entrance, where he was then "crowned" "King of the Kiddies." With an audience of over a quarter of a million people, the Parade was such a success that Macy's declared it would become an annual event. (wikipedia)

one weekend

Er, Pacman won. Again.

And it was a quickie.

Di pa ubos ang beer, tapos na ang boksing.

* * *

Missing.

1 Starbucks xmas trad card with 2 stickers on the left, 8 on the right.

Nyeta.

Now I have to start all over.

It's not like I'm going to claim the planner for myself. I don't think I'll ever use it.

It's the effort of completing the card and exchanging it for the freebie, which I don't really care about and might eventually give to her.

It's a just-because game.

Alright. It's an OC thing, too.

* * *

Before the Pacman-Morales fight, I went out for a good ol' weekend morning Starbucks hang in Alabang (wow...that rhymes!) with friends at work.

Over a mixture of iced and hot drinks and croissant, we talked about... well...

What do you think supervisors and biggies talk about when they get together on a weekend morning?

The office.

But it was more on internal affairs. Rumored and real stuff.

Anecdotes. Laughing at ourselves and others.

Plans. Small talk on team building thoughts.

Although, we (I'm referring to myself and Arn) were momentarily distracted by this pretty mestiza who strolled in her tank that nearly exposed her breasts, the gurls carried on the convo.

And when the mestiza stayed a while in our sight because her driver was a bit late, derailing me and Arn, Deanne finally spoke and said, "Nakakababae na yan, a!"

Hehehe. Mother hen.

* * *

Over the weekend I got free lessons from my special gurl and her friend, Phil. They taught me tagalog expressions that might come handy (although I'm not sure how).

First on the list is this phrase: pekpek nylon (or cotton) shorts.

Believe me, when I heard them say it, I was completely shocked. My earwax totally spilled out. Alright. I've seen these short-shorts worn by gurls but I didn't know they were called that way. I don't know why it's coined that way. I mean, is it empowering?

Geez.

I asked them if it was okay to go to a store and ask the saleslady where I can buy pekpek shorts for my gurl. They laughed.

I guess it's not okay. I might not get service.

Second on the list is PGPI. It stands for pa-gurl, putang ina.

When I asked them if it's said as a compliment, they said it depends. If PGPI is going to be uttered in a bitchy way, it would be to someone like Anne Curtis.

ME: Anne Curtis? Wait. Eh di ba gurl yun? So what do you mean pa-gurl?

PHIL: Pa-gurl kasi maarte.

ME: Anne Curtis is pretty. I guess you say it out of envy?

PHIL: Of course not. Gusto ko naman si Anne Curtis. Kaya lang minsan nakakainis na. Basta ganun.

ME: So who's the ultimate PGPI icon?

PHIL: Kris Aquino. As in, wala na. Sya lang talaga.

ME: So pag lalaki, PBPI?

PHIL: Hindi. PGPI pa rin. Hahaha!

* * *

kids should know that...

In 2005, Starbucks began to print quotations on its paper coffee cups. One of these drew criticism from fundamentalist Christian groups including Concerned Women for America who seek to "bring Biblical principles into all levels of public policy". The controversial quote was: The Way I See It #43: My only regret about being gay was that I repressed it for so long. I surrendered my youth to the people that I feared when I could have been out there loving someone. Don't make that mistake yourself. Life's too damn short. (Armistead Maupin, author of the Tales of the City series and the novel The Night Listener.) Although the other cups promoted a diverse range of ideas, mostly fundamentalist Christian critics singled out this quotation for allegedly promoting homosexuality. The Starbucks at Baylor University in Waco, Texas, removed cups featuring the Maupin quote after complaints from a staff member. Starbucks, however, has no plan to pull the cup from the program. (wikipedia)

Pee

ME: I knew Penelope Pitstop even before I learned how to spell her name.

SHE: Penelope Pitstop? Who's she?

ME: She's that girl in the Wacky Races cartoon.

SHE: Who's she?

Ignores her.

ME: I also knew...ahm...Patty...I think her name is Peppermint Patty even before I knew her name.

SHE: Why?

ME: Because she always had those cloud dialogues but her name was rarely mentioned by the other characters.

SHE: Peppermint Patty. Snoopy girl?

ME: She's not a Snoopy girl. She's a Charlie Brown girl.

SHE: May crush ba sya ke Charlie Brown?

Mind wanders off again.

ME: But you know what? Until now, I don't know who Peter Piper is. When I was younger I thought he was someone who made pants for my father.

SHE: Made pants for your father? Hahaha!

Ponders on.

ME: Babe?

SHE: Hmm?

ME: Is Pink Panther gay?

SHE: Hehehe! No.

ME: How 'bout Peter Pan? Isn't he a she?

SHE: A "she"? No! Why?

ME: Don't mean to disrespect but the boy has the body of a girl.

* * *

Yesterday we went to the supermarket. Among the items in the cart was a bar soap neither of us have ever tried before. I guess it's something new in the market. The product is milk soap.

That's what it says on the box.

I picked it from the shelf. Read the box and watched for any unknown ingredient.

I have sensitive skin. My dermatologist had prescribed Dove for me years ago because it has moisturizer. Whatever that means. As far as I understood, Dove is "non-alcoholic."

So, anyway, as soon as I was about to drop the unknown milk soap in the cart, she hurls her "general surgeon" warning.

SHE: Wag yan! Ayun yung Dove, o.

ME: Ito na lang. It has milk.

She stood back as she watched me place the soap in the cart. Before I maneuvered the cart away from the shelf, and her, she speaks again...just like that Conscience in the Safeguard TVC.

SHE: Sige ka. Mamaya mangati ka. Pagkatapos sasabihin mo, "Itchy! Itchy!" Ay naku.

ME: Hindi.

Her last persuasion was to inform me that the Dove was on sale that day. But, because I wanted to be independent from her opinion, I didn't budge.

It was my skin. My soap. My decision.

And so today, I tried that soap.

It had a problem. I couldn't decipher its scent.

It smelled like...like...oh, hell. There's even no name for it.

It would have been a relief if it, at least, smelled like carton. Because I'd know that carton is made out of paper, which is made from trees. The origin is traceable.

But in this case, it was simply unrecognizable like the substance of a meteor from outer space.

I know if I told her about it, she would give me that smart-assed laugh. That would be embarassing.

At this junction, I think that I can smell something recognizable. The sweet smell of success...belonging to her, obviously.

Because she was right and, yes, I was wrong.

I knew I should have nose-tested the milk soap before I decided to buy it. Now I don't only look like a fool. I even smell like it, and I will continue to smell like defeat if I think of using it again.

Oh, rubbish.

* * *

kids should know that...

Due to the fact that most commercial soaps eliminate the glycerine from soaps to use in other industires, this deprives the skin of the natural, moisturising glycerine and generally leaves the skin feeling dry. Due to this, many Bedouin tribes in the Middle East have shunned soap, prefering instead to simply scrub themselves with sand while bathing in simple water. (wikipedia)

invasion

The old skin has been ditched because I found this new one, which is beta-friendly at its best. I can't resist to upload and tweak a bit this new skin even though it is old school in style.

I added something on and of my own on the side bar. The pictures you see actually tell you something about myself. Hover and a label pops out.

The side bar has been converted into some sort of identity-art. It was very taxing and squeezed a whole lot of creative juice. But I enjoyed every sec of it. So, I hope you will, too.

* * *

Our office is now looking into forming a creative team that will solely focus on internal events such as team-building and anything about formulating a successful incentive program for the employees.

HR will be greatly relieved should this project push through. As of now, the HR guys are taking on this responsibility on top of whatever else they're expected to do. With the birth of a creative team, I bet the HR people will find more time to handle their priorities efficiently.

Of course, I've thought of participating in this committee without necessarily removing myself from the position I currently hold.

The creative team is forecasted to operate as a separate department soon. But, personally, I think this will take a long time to happen. It's not a budget concern. The challenge is space.

I still have no idea where the creative team will hold office. God help us; I hope we don't have to clear the pantry and put in in office equipment.

By the way, we recently expanded in the Cubao Gateway area. The floor we occupied isn't spacious as expected so we have to exploit every square meter.

Again, the problem is space.

In the Alabang main office, where I am, we just leased another floor at the building across us a few months ago. The area is not enough.

From a different angle, the perspective is that business is good considering our interesting concern is space.

The way I see it, what is badly needed in the Alabang area are major realtors who will invest in not-so-high-rise buildings. There're a lot of vacant lots just waiting to be developed.

I think this idea should be taken advantage of, especially when more career-oriented people based south of Manila (Paranaque, Las Pinas, Muntinlupa, Cavite and Laguna) are hunting for jobs closer to home.

* * *
kids should know that...

The commercial center in Quezon city is found in Cubao were you can find different shopping malls and the Aurora Tower. There is a farmers plaza and farmers market. The oldest carnival in Metro Manila, the Fiesta carnival, is held here. You will also find the Araneta Coliseum, and a cinema. (wikipedia)

(mis)chief at work

Geri, one of the nicest ladies in the office, often checks me out while working.

Ang seryoso mo naman. She'd tell me this, perhaps intentionally to break my focus. I would stare at her for about two secs until her words sink in and I'd give her a smile.

Well, this morning, it was my time to show her that I can play while at work.

Deanne and I were having a discussion about gadgets. She was asking me about the retail price of a particular item.

I don't know how much it costs. You know me. I'm not much of a spender. I just wait for gifts. I jested.

Gifts. Hmp. Bakit? Birthday mo ba? Deanne who very well knows when my birthday falls was a tad sarcastic.

It was at this point that Geri overheard our convo.

Hey. Is it your birthday? She stood beside me and butted in.

I turned to her with a big puppy pout on my face and replied.

Yes. And no one is greeting me.

Without hesitation, Geri beckoned me with a nod, opened her arms and reached out for my face.

I slightly bent down and let her land a soft kiss on my right cheek.

All of a sudden, Deanne laughed heartily.

Birthday ba nya talaga? Geri looked at Deanne, confused. But Deanne didn't answer and just kept laughing.

Wacky! Ano ba? Birthday mo ba? She was more confused now.

Yes. I replied while trying to hide my smirk.

I thought the answer to her question was relative that's why I answered in the affirmative. If you feel like it's your birthday, and so be it.

Di ba?

I started to back off from Geri because she was reaching out for me again, but this time it was to hit my upper arm.

Hay naku. Pikon.

Gullible.

Hehehe.

* * *

As far as the local government of Paranaque is concerned, it's that time of the year. Here are some of the Bernabe boys beginning to decor the center island of Sucat today.

Well, there you go.

When I put up our tree a couple of days ago, that wasn't OA. Right now, if you don't have the feel of the season at home yet, out ka.

* * *
kids should know that...

Kissing is a complex behaviour that requires significant coordination. It takes a total of twenty muscles working cooperatively to kiss. The most important muscle involved is the orbicularis oris muscle; it is used to pucker the lips and informally known as the kissing muscle. The tongue can also be an important part of the kiss. (wikipedia)

never on a sunday

I went out last night with a couple of friends who were introduced to me by my special gurl. One of them, Phil, invited us to check out Marty's, a bar beside the Elorde Gym in Sucat. It had two big airconditioned ktv rooms, each with a powerful audio system, that one could rent for only P150 per hour.

Service wasn't bad, considering we were the only customers.

And where were the regulars? I'm thinking that they must have been at home, watching the PBA on TV or catching up with family quality-time.

It was a Sunday. And, normally, whoever goes out on a Sunday night must be really really bored. Or hasn't turned loose in ages.

Whatever.

I was with call center reps who aren't exactly your professionals with normal working hours.

We had a great ktv time and stayed there until 10:30 PM. It wasn't because of what Marty's has. It is because of what Marty's is on a Sunday night. A ghost place, just like the Manila Memorial Park across it.

Sorry for the pun.

Anyway, after they had a couple of cold beers, we decided to get the tab and transfer.

San tayo? I asked.

Sa Aguirre na lang. Marami naman dun, Phil replied.

I was skeptical when she said that we would have plenty of options at Aguirre. Maybe she forgot that it was a Sunday night.

Ana has long wanted to visit BBQ Boy Grill along Aguirre out of curiosity. She would not fail to mention this several times in the past. Yesterday, it was unbelievably jampacked. So we had no choice but to drive further until we got off at 310.

Earlier on during the drive, I thought I could persuade them to hang at Cafe Francaise because I've been craving for fabulous authentic Italian pizza. But the beer there is fifty a pop and they'd rather buy it 30% cheaper.

At 310 they had another round of beer. My gurl had Bailey's, which cost about P130. I no longer take alcohol bev so I had diet soda.

Once there, I wanted to try their pizza since my design to kidnap them to CF collapsed.

Meron ba kayong pizza? I asked the waiter in a black tee with a screaming Jaggermeister on the chest.

Meron po! He jumped on my question.

Without thoroughly browsing the menu, I ordered two different thin crust pizzas - Chef's and The Works.

After eating both variants, I realized that my craving for CF pizza heightened. The 310 pizzas definitely won't be the reason for a come back.

The venue actually has a cool ambience. It used to be a large private house, as were other commercial establishments in Aguirre. And then it transformed into a booze place; it shut down and then metamorphosized into what it is today. We stayed there until closing time.

Well.

Nothing still compares to going out on a Saturday night.

And to the CF pizza, as well. I'll take their Chef's Pizza, anytime. Speaking of pizza, I wish someone in this country will put up a franchise of Bucca di Beppo. It's my fave restaurant in the whole wide world.

* * *
kids should know that...

In Brazil, especially Sao Paulo city, pizzas are one of the most profitable items of Brazilian food industry. Among them are traditional Neapolitan style pizzas (brought by Italian immigrants) and sort of "new style" pizzas with chocolate and fruits (banana possibly being the most common), among other toppings. It is so important for the city economics that a Pizza Day (July 10) was instituted, with Pizza Championship being one of the most important events of the day, showing new recipes. One of the products of such championship was the border filling with catupiry cheese. Pizza must also be eaten with a knife and a fork; to do otherwise is considered to be bad table manners. Except in Pizza Hut and other pizza franchises, most pizzerias cook the pizzas on a wooden oven, even the small ones. While outside the city of Sao Paulo it is common to use condiments such as ketchup on a pizza, it is almost considered rude in Sao Paulo, where the most traditional Italian pizza is made. (wikipedia)

elves are working

It was Hoot's birthday on the 21st of October. He emailed and said that good ol' Terry bought him an awesome air balloon ride for about $350 as a gift.

A week after his birthday, and surviving the balloon ride, he called up mom and dad to thank them for the personalized gift they sent via courier.

I don't know what they sent. It's hard to guess. I mean, what can you give to a bro who has almost everything money can buy to make life comfy? Terry had the best idea - buy him an adventure!

For my part, I emailed him a downloadable video of me with Bogey singing Happy Birthday.

It's simple yet very personal, real, creative and you can throw in the word cute because I’ve never done that before, even to any of my exes.

Speaking of presents, someone special is about to be handed a Nokia N-series mobile phone next week. It's one of my Christmas presents she'll be getting from me this year.

Between the two of us, I think I'm more excited. If she is, too, then she has a damn good way of not showing it.

The reason why I'm excited is because I also plan to acquire a Nokia high-end phone for myself, although not necessarily the same model I'm buying for her. I want to get the model that can film video for a longer period of time.

You now have the idea which one? Yep, that one!

Honestly, I don't know what else specialists can do to revolutionize mobile communications tech. Frankly, all I'm looking for a mobile phone are bluetooth connection, a built-in cam, hands-free feature, RealOne player and a video recorder. It also has to be triband, at least, an attribute necessary for travelers hunting for roaming service.

But I like this particular N series because it will allow me to shoot a video longer than a TVC. I'm hoping it's going to be a handy toy for me, like a stress buster when I'm at work. It will kill my colleagues when I shoot them out of nowhere at their most unflattering, awkward human behavior in the office.

It'll be my very own The Office sitcom, Wacky-style.

* * *

Yesterday, with help from the household's lil generalissimo nanny, I set up the Christmas tree in the living room. I know that some folks would say it's quite early to display it. But let me say that I'm not as OC as my neighbor who lives across who has decorated her house with anything that's Yule including her outdoors. And this she did even when Halloween had to pass.

At least I waited until All Souls' Day was over.

I was eager to put up the tree because I purchased some decors by impulse when I went to the mall the other day. It cost me much because, instead of going to Divisoria, I bought the items at Ace Hardware. I was there because I intended to buy a padlock. Not finding any reasonably priced padlock, on my way out, I was attracted to the various trees on display and was persuaded to check out what the store was selling.

Call me an easy target market but, heck, what's important is that I fell into it without any regret. This is because I found out yesterday that the old Christmas tree decors I had were so ancient that, although these were kept in good condition, all of these were bought by the lady I used to be involved and lived with for about 48 months - seven years ago!

I guess it only shows that I never really participated in decorating the house for the season all these years.

So what sets the difference now? Where is this sudden interest coming from? Too much endorphins?

I don't know. Maybe too much traveling can make me a homebody.

Or maybe it's because, after having my own dose of American Christmas last year, I'm not going to take for granted our own version of it ever again.

I mean, Thanksgiving and Christmas sales in the U.S. are the best and the mall's a haven for good finds, but nothing compares to being at home with your loved ones and sharing what you have, regardless of how simple it may be, on Christmas.

If only I can learn the art of wreath-making. I am such at a loss on how to ornate and change it from a boring piece of plastic green grass to an attractive, glittering Christmassy door decor.

And, by the way, those stemmed red round thingies on a wreath... are those cherries? If they are, why?

Now that's a Wacky challenge.

* * *

kids should know that...

Hot air balloons are the oldest successful human flight technology, dating back to the Montgolfier brothers' invention in Annonay, France in 1783. Attractive aspects of ballooning include the exceptional quiet (except when the propane burners are firing), the lack of any perceptible feeling of movement and the birds-eye view. Since the balloon moves with the wind, the passengers feel absolutely no wind, except for brief periods during the flight when the balloon climbs or descends into air currents of different direction or speed. (wikipedia)

sex thoughts

I love myself I want you to love me
When I'm feelin' down I want you above me
I search myself I want you to find me
I forget myself I want you to remind me

One of the songs in my iPod that I don't skip and play more than once includes the lyrics aboveposted.

Is that scary?

Scary, not because the Divinyls' song is about half my age and I'm still nodding my head to the beat.

I don't want anybody else
When I think about you I touch myself
Ooh I don't want anybody else
Oh no, oh no, oh no

But rather because maybe I think about sex more than I realize.

Or am having it.

Yesterday I went to Puerto Azul for a lil R&R. I enjoyed every minute of it even when there was sporadic drizzling.

The best part of the day was strolling on the empty beach in the middle of the cloudy noon. (Running second to that was sleeping in the backseat on the way to the Ternate terrain.) I had the whole coastline for my taking.

From my spot, I could see the hills of Bataan with clouds slowly descending on it. Not even the power of the jetski's motor that sliced the sea yonder spoiled the scenery.

The sea wasn't rough and the waves rolled as if these were gently, smoothly pushed with great control.

Nothing's so loud
As hearing when we lie
The truth is not kind
And you've said neither am I
But the air outside so soft is saying everything
Everything

Toad the Wet Sprocket played in my ears, the iPod safely clipped in the back pocket of my shorts.

It seemed like the moment was a prize from above because I've been working my ass off.

And was I thinking of making love in the sand?

I don't remember.

The timing, the leisure was more ecstatic than getting naked with someone special.

If you don't know what I mean, then you haven't had someone special snuggle next to you on an empty beach and both of you are calm like the sea.

Now that I think about it, love being mine to cherish, I was made love to that time.

* * *
kids should know that...

Toad the Wet Sprocket was formed in 1986 at San Marcos High School just outside of Santa Barbara, California when singer/songwriter Glen Phillips was only 14 and a freshman, the other members were 17 and juniors. The band finally achieved fame with their third album, fear. The album was released in 1991, and saw the single "All I Want" reach the top twenty on the Billboard Hot 100. Toad the Wet Sprocket formally broke up in July 1998, citing creative differences. (wikipedia)

a jack daniel's bull ride

By thirty after nine yesterday morning, I got home to find a couple of cold cheese dogs on my breakfast table in the bedroom. Pauline, the lady who prepared it, wasn't around when I arrived. And around meant nowhere from the garage to the foyer and up the stairs that led to the room, including a side trip to the family room's toilet.

I was not in the mood to discuss where I've been. All I could think of was going to bed.

Truthfully, my mind became myopic the moment I knew it was finally time to make that drive home. I was irreversibly sleepy. There are only two things I am left capable of doing once I park the car, I conditioned myself. Take a pee and doze off.

Getting home wasn't easy. I unhappily hit the breaks during the petty rush hour traffic. That made me only want more to kick off the Doc Marts. I think my toes were turning al dente and, if I may foolishly say, my feet were probably odorous like blue cheese.

Geez. I've been carrying this pair since 8...nah, make that 7. Yesterday!

I was with friends after work. After missing work for two straight days, I stayed with them to catch up on details both professional and personal in nature. I was in their custody for hours and, obviously, despite being physically tired, I couldn't beg off when each one would slam me with a similar you-don't-hang-around-too-much-anymore line.

The faulty charm sometimes is that I'm a notorious friendly colleague. When I would be doing a one-on-one freetime chat with someone, another would come along and drag me somewhere else to be her exclusive sounding board for the moment.

These people perceive me as their energizer bunny with a humongous pair of ears. And, hey, I don't have a batt for life!

Note to self (since age 12, as a matter of fact): I have trouble saying no.

Or just maybe, I'm too nice.

And, maybe again, I enjoy the attention even when it agonizingly drains, instead of sustain, me.

* * *

Just the other day my uncle radiologist told me that, after diagnosing me as stressed out at work, I have too much responsibilities now. Although the notice came without saying to go easy on the wheel, he didn't tell me to shirk from them in a jiffy. He knew I would carry on.

Make those anti-hyperacidity chewables handy.

Keeping tabs with my colleagues is admittedly a fragment of the responsibilities. When there's an EQ necessity to nourish each other like family, I step up on the plate. And this creates a positive chain reaction.

* * *

One of the sms I received before leaving from work yesterday was from Ella. It started out as a banter. She said that I'm avoiding her at work.

She and Deanne, they don't see each other eye-to-eye. And I'm caught in between.

Deanne is the jealous type of friend, which I think is so highschoolish. Deanne and I've been together since Day 1. She's more than a ciggy bud. She actually pampers me and makes sure that I have something to eat because she knows that I'm DM. She sees me like her long lost sibling from the past.

As with Ella, I started to be close to her after days and days of being taught by her regarding a certain skill at work. We would have lunch together and sometimes go out after work. I would even drop her near her home.

When Deanne learned about this, she saw it differently. And she even confronted me about it. She, along with two other female colleagues, told me that Ella had this thing for me.

I told them that they were being foolish and that we never talked about funny stuff.

But they insisted they were right and that I should watch out for her. When I asked them how come they were so sure about Ella, they stunningly chorused:

Becaaaaause we are women! Maarte din kami!

Man, that just shut me up.

Yesterday, days after not talking to Ella, I gave in to her invite to accompany her for a quick meal after work.

And I felt weird because I made sure that Deanne didn't know about it so she wouldn't give me ze crazy look.

So over her microwaved pasta in a box and a can of diet soda, Ella and I talked about personal matters. There were no extra-special talks as usual. If she would take my hand inside the office and drag me to the water station or the pantry, or take my right arm and lean against it, or lightly brush my chin or cheek with her finger, or greet me the moment she walks in the office, or beckon me to make a short stop to her cubicle, or tell me that she misses me - all occasionally - I AM absolutely certain there is nothing to be worried about. No big fuss.

I am old for this kind of stuff.

* * *

Deanne saw me and Ella walk back to the office yesterday. Of course, she gave me ze crazy look. Despite this, I had breakfast with Deanne yesterday.

Her treat.

And then she used me as her chauffeur to conduct business that same morning.

My friendships with women - it could be a predicament.

* * *

I woke up at about 1 in the afternoon, just when Pauline entered. She saw me sprawled in my office attire.

Disappointed, she said:

Dumating na lang ako, di mo pa rin kinain yung hotdog!

I blinked once, looked at her, deciphered whether I was awake, found my voice and spoke faintly:

Paki-init na lang sa microwave. Nakatulog kasi ako.

She walked toward the breakfast table, silently took the cold plate. Before she exited I spoke again:

Pahingi naman ako ng isang baso ng max.

She answered with authority:

Di pwede! Bawal sayo ang sopdrinks. Kagagaling mo lang sa sakit!

I protested and actually felt like saying: Wait a minute. I've been working hard. I think I deserve even just 1 glass of pepsi max.

But of course I didn't say that. I charmed my way and asked again to be kindly served what I wanted. And that worked.

In my household, it's pretty hard to argue with a nanny who's trained by a special woman in my life to oversee my health.

* * *

kids should know that...

Takeru Kobayashi is the world's fastest hot dog eater. In 2002 he beat his previous record by one half of a hot dog, consuming 50.5 Nathan's famous hot dogs in 12 minutes. On July 4, 2006 he set a new record when he ate 53.75 in the same amount of time. (wikipedia)

core trouble

I was introduced to the term G.I. three times. And each time, G.I. stood for something else.

The first time happened when I was very young. It must've been a boring summer that I decided to open the fire escape in my room. It was one of the window grills that opened out and led to the roof. My bedroom was on the second floor.

I walked on the roof and there it was - G.I. Later my dad told me that it meant galvanized iron.

Few years later, Hasbro came up with another meaning of G.I. - and it meant General Issue.

In the novelty shops, this particular G.I. didn't come in steel. It was made in plastic. And these G.I. toys were cool because they were hot on TV as G.I. Joe.

Just this Tuesday, I found a new meaning to the term G.I. And the way it happened was way too painful.

This time, through the help of my uncle who is a radiologist, I learnt that G.I. meant gastrointestinal.

I underwent a so-called G.I. series for two consecutive days. The reason for this was because on Monday, I had severe stomach ache. The pain was familiar and I thought that I was simply having hyperacidity. But when the pain wouldn't go away, I thought it best to cancel work and look out for my health.

So, yes, I was told to swallow a white chemical that looked and tasted like pop rocks with the help of a white liquid. I don't know which one was the barium. Anyway, they used this agent to study my esophagus and stomach (and what-not) by tracking it from the moment I swallowed it until it reached my tummy.

The ending of it? Wala, which is a good thing.

The only prognosis is that I am clearly stressed out. My uncle advised me to keep chewable maalox in my pocket so I can pop these anytime when I'm at work and the place starts to stress me out. He said he himself keeps these handy.

Alright. I think I'll do just that. It would've been a lot better to bring Bogey to work to destress me but... nah.

So now, I'm obviously slowing down. I'm already thinking of scheduling a first-time visit to that collosal Mall of Asia and a good ol' fishing day trip.

And guess what else?

All Fridays, I'm not going to work at all. Fridays would be exclusively Wacky-days, rockin' out in peace.

By the way, welcome to the all-new wacky blog!

* * *

kids should know that...

The Pop Rocks candy was first offered to the public in 1975. Around 1983, General Foods stopped selling the candy; some would believe this was because of an urban legend. A few years after, in 1985 Kraft Foods bought the rights to the candy product and re-marketed it as Action Candy through a company called Carbonated Candy. (wikipedia)