[busy signaL]
[Monday, February 26, 2007]
ah 21, that glorious age, that hour of beginnings - now arrives that time when one can confidently announce one's intent to indulge in all manners of vice; when sex now carries the added excitement of statutory rape; when one finally, finally begins to resemble that horror hidden away in one's driver's license!
it is therefore not illogical, and certainly not uncommon, for men of a certain social standing to celebrate this milestone with as much fanfare as the body can withstand, often enjoining the company of a large group of similarly-decadent individuals to assist in the consumption of purchased commodities. thus it was that last friday evening found me necessitated to play the roles of colleague, chaperone, and co-conspirator, an adventure that began at the very doors of that fortress of drunken revelry: embassy.
i met jonat a good two hours before opening time, as he had asked me to assist him in the finalization of logistics: as usual, he had invited the entire ateneo student body, 90% of which had eventually begged off. after four years of the same scenario, you'd think that he'd change tactics just a bit. once all financial matters were settled, i had dinner with him and his family at the embassy caféteria [this is really how it is spelled; it appears to be a shong version of the heavy metal umlaut], which would have been good, if only it weren't friday*.
guests started arriving at around 1030, by which time jonat and i were halfway through our second round of mojitos and "pork kebab with egg tofu" [read: tokwa't baboy]. i was happy to discover that he had invited a few high school classmates as well, and they had thankfully decided to follow through. we spent the next couple of hours or so catching up on things, before jonat declared that the hour of our doom had arrived.
for the record, i am not what you may call a "party person" [the word "nightlife" sends my thoughts more in the direction of omnivorous flying rodents than abuses to my optic and auditory centers]. predictable, then, that i should delay our attendance by encouraging debate on why an establishment erected for entertainment purposes should be named after another, undoubtedly more sinister, construct.
it was only after mustering courage enough to enter that the mystery resolved itself: apparantly essential to both locations are queues so lengthy that only the first 20 people are fully aware of where they are headed; a sudden, palpable decrease in personal wealth; and a heat that soon contributes to an emergency-room-worthy migraine. in theory, one difference would have been the dance floor, but this i consider to be a moot point, as any dance floor containing a number of people so great as to inhibit any form of motion beyond the vertical has no business being called such.
in fact, the majority of us guests instead found ourselves playing parlor games such as "find the jonat" [with the thick smoke proving to be an effective enough blindfold], and "who can travel furthest without debilitating injury". at this point in time, it should be quite evident that i have no great love for deafeningly repetitive basslines and synthesizers when accompanied by blindingly repetitive strobe and laser lighting.
and yet despite this, i managed to have a sane enough time due to those four words which now sit atop this entry. para sa nawalang kabataan: a toast to the immaturity of yesteryear, by people who'd one by one lost it at some point between then and now. it's a slightly dampening feeling [even more so than that caused by the alcohol], reconnecting with women who've gradually traded their braces for breasts, or men who now consider it more manly not to shave.
one would do well to realize that although eventually losing all things is inevitable, eventually forgetting is not. and that it is, in fact, worth a few hours of tinnitus and afterimages, spilt drinks and embarrassing exclamations, to retain some well enough to keep for years after they've been misplaced.
happy birthday.
sige ingat.ü
---
friday: on fridays, my teammates at work insist on lunch out, since we are free to wear more socially-acceptable attire, and are therefore more willing to be seen in socially-acceptable locations [or as they say, "kain tayo sa mahal"]. on top of that, this particular friday was our imported trainor's last day, so that warranted an additional team dinner. and on top of that, it was also the date of the company quarterly coffeetalk, which translates to food and beverages for 1000 people. needless to say, i was stuffed.
posted by stani at 10:53 AM
comments (1)
it is therefore not illogical, and certainly not uncommon, for men of a certain social standing to celebrate this milestone with as much fanfare as the body can withstand, often enjoining the company of a large group of similarly-decadent individuals to assist in the consumption of purchased commodities. thus it was that last friday evening found me necessitated to play the roles of colleague, chaperone, and co-conspirator, an adventure that began at the very doors of that fortress of drunken revelry: embassy.
i met jonat a good two hours before opening time, as he had asked me to assist him in the finalization of logistics: as usual, he had invited the entire ateneo student body, 90% of which had eventually begged off. after four years of the same scenario, you'd think that he'd change tactics just a bit. once all financial matters were settled, i had dinner with him and his family at the embassy caféteria [this is really how it is spelled; it appears to be a shong version of the heavy metal umlaut], which would have been good, if only it weren't friday*.
guests started arriving at around 1030, by which time jonat and i were halfway through our second round of mojitos and "pork kebab with egg tofu" [read: tokwa't baboy]. i was happy to discover that he had invited a few high school classmates as well, and they had thankfully decided to follow through. we spent the next couple of hours or so catching up on things, before jonat declared that the hour of our doom had arrived.
for the record, i am not what you may call a "party person" [the word "nightlife" sends my thoughts more in the direction of omnivorous flying rodents than abuses to my optic and auditory centers]. predictable, then, that i should delay our attendance by encouraging debate on why an establishment erected for entertainment purposes should be named after another, undoubtedly more sinister, construct.
it was only after mustering courage enough to enter that the mystery resolved itself: apparantly essential to both locations are queues so lengthy that only the first 20 people are fully aware of where they are headed; a sudden, palpable decrease in personal wealth; and a heat that soon contributes to an emergency-room-worthy migraine. in theory, one difference would have been the dance floor, but this i consider to be a moot point, as any dance floor containing a number of people so great as to inhibit any form of motion beyond the vertical has no business being called such.
in fact, the majority of us guests instead found ourselves playing parlor games such as "find the jonat" [with the thick smoke proving to be an effective enough blindfold], and "who can travel furthest without debilitating injury". at this point in time, it should be quite evident that i have no great love for deafeningly repetitive basslines and synthesizers when accompanied by blindingly repetitive strobe and laser lighting.
and yet despite this, i managed to have a sane enough time due to those four words which now sit atop this entry. para sa nawalang kabataan: a toast to the immaturity of yesteryear, by people who'd one by one lost it at some point between then and now. it's a slightly dampening feeling [even more so than that caused by the alcohol], reconnecting with women who've gradually traded their braces for breasts, or men who now consider it more manly not to shave.
one would do well to realize that although eventually losing all things is inevitable, eventually forgetting is not. and that it is, in fact, worth a few hours of tinnitus and afterimages, spilt drinks and embarrassing exclamations, to retain some well enough to keep for years after they've been misplaced.
happy birthday.
sige ingat.ü
---
friday: on fridays, my teammates at work insist on lunch out, since we are free to wear more socially-acceptable attire, and are therefore more willing to be seen in socially-acceptable locations [or as they say, "kain tayo sa mahal"]. on top of that, this particular friday was our imported trainor's last day, so that warranted an additional team dinner. and on top of that, it was also the date of the company quarterly coffeetalk, which translates to food and beverages for 1000 people. needless to say, i was stuffed.
posted by stani at 10:53 AM
comments (1)
[Tuesday, February 13, 2007]
[Sunday, February 11, 2007]
The Roman god Janus was always portrayed as having two faces — one looking toward the future, and the other looking toward the past. Small wonder that the first month was designated as his. We become a bit two-faced during January ourselves. We celebrate the media noche as a time of anticipation, as well as of reflection, before ringing in the New Year in a blaze of fireworks and polka dots. I figure that this our graduation is a similar borderline, but this time like that split-second between a dream and reality. We are about to wake up to the real world, so to speak, and cast all thoughts of our dream-world out of our minds. We smile and lie to ourselves, saying that if we never saw Zobel and our teachers again it would be too soon; or that we will have forgotten the tune of the Alma Mater the moment we step off-campus. Fat chance of that happening. This school, whether we admit it or not, has wormed its way into our cores. After all, the Ateneans may be blue-blooded, but we LaSallians will always be green-minded. It is a fact that Man finds security in routine — the same people; the same places; the same subjects, if you will. But all of that changes now. Now, we are about to take our last steps as high-schoolers and our first as collegians. This means that while some of us will continue our LaSallian education, others will opt to go abroad or shaft and join the opposition. You know what I mean. In any case, my point is that nothing lasts forever, least of all youth and circumstance.
Most of us have let the years speed by then regret their passing. Even now, it seems surreal that we have reached an end after so long. We may even find ourselves wishing that we could have had one more year. No wait, maybe just one more day. Much better. Too much of anything is a bad thing, wouldn’t you agree? Going back, it is like our time-honored tradition of doing everything at the last minute holds true to our very consciousness as well. Suddenly here we are, and no word rings truer than bangag to describe our states of awareness. The consolation is that we are all bangag together. We are individuals, yet also elements in a set. Each of us is unique and has added that particular flavor to our cream of senior soup. Put simply, this batch would not be what it is if we were not who we are. I believe that a school is less of an academic environment and more of a social experience. In this, at least, our sleeping and getting up at unearthly hours day after day ad infinitum have been worth it — we leave with the acquaintance of three hundred odd people and the deepest, darkest secrets of maybe fifty more. The experiences that we have shared will never quite leave us alone. We will miss that buddy with whom we had peak communication, whenever collegiate mortal sins are committed. We will grumble about having to attend class reunions but will do so anyway, secretly eager for the latest chichi. We will even one day start cranking out when I was young epics, much to the disgust of any and all listeners.
Having said this, in the tradition of the Sunscreen Song, I share with you the following as my College Resolutions: I will treasure the time I have left, instead of griping about how certain classes take forever to finish. I will love Mondays because they mean that I have a school to go to and friends that I have not seen for the weekend. I will not fall asleep in class if I am seated up front. I will respect my professors’ efforts, even if I really could teach their subjects better. For that matter, I will not laugh openly when a professor stumbles over a word; I will merely bend down and pretend to tie my shoelace. I will not let anything ruin more than ten minutes of my day. I will appreciate the mini-miracles that God throws my way, like when a test is cancelled or when I hear my favorite song. I will not take a rain check on an invitation to go out if I can afford it, nor pass up free food when it is offered. I will remember that it takes forty-seven muscles to frown, seventeen to smile, and just four to get your point across. I will remember that life is a journey, not a destination, and that even if you are on the right track, you will still be run over if you just sit there. And I will remember that the meaning of life is not in paragraph form, but is seen or heard or felt, depending on who you are and how you got it. To misquote a song, life may be unpredictable, but that is what makes it worth living. Vaya con Dios, graduates. Enjoy this summer — it will probably be our last. Good afternoon, good riddance, and Happy New Year.
---
note: i wrote this piece more than four years ago, as a requirement for my high school graduation. it was never used officially, but i've heard rumors that it is still being touted by zobel's english department as an example of excellent essay writing. for myself, i make no claims beyond that once upon a time, i thought it was pretty damn good.
i belatedly dedicate it to the people of catch 2t7 and the malate cute staff. do not go gentle.
sige ingat.ü
posted by stani at 12:17 AM
comments (0)
Most of us have let the years speed by then regret their passing. Even now, it seems surreal that we have reached an end after so long. We may even find ourselves wishing that we could have had one more year. No wait, maybe just one more day. Much better. Too much of anything is a bad thing, wouldn’t you agree? Going back, it is like our time-honored tradition of doing everything at the last minute holds true to our very consciousness as well. Suddenly here we are, and no word rings truer than bangag to describe our states of awareness. The consolation is that we are all bangag together. We are individuals, yet also elements in a set. Each of us is unique and has added that particular flavor to our cream of senior soup. Put simply, this batch would not be what it is if we were not who we are. I believe that a school is less of an academic environment and more of a social experience. In this, at least, our sleeping and getting up at unearthly hours day after day ad infinitum have been worth it — we leave with the acquaintance of three hundred odd people and the deepest, darkest secrets of maybe fifty more. The experiences that we have shared will never quite leave us alone. We will miss that buddy with whom we had peak communication, whenever collegiate mortal sins are committed. We will grumble about having to attend class reunions but will do so anyway, secretly eager for the latest chichi. We will even one day start cranking out when I was young epics, much to the disgust of any and all listeners.
Having said this, in the tradition of the Sunscreen Song, I share with you the following as my College Resolutions: I will treasure the time I have left, instead of griping about how certain classes take forever to finish. I will love Mondays because they mean that I have a school to go to and friends that I have not seen for the weekend. I will not fall asleep in class if I am seated up front. I will respect my professors’ efforts, even if I really could teach their subjects better. For that matter, I will not laugh openly when a professor stumbles over a word; I will merely bend down and pretend to tie my shoelace. I will not let anything ruin more than ten minutes of my day. I will appreciate the mini-miracles that God throws my way, like when a test is cancelled or when I hear my favorite song. I will not take a rain check on an invitation to go out if I can afford it, nor pass up free food when it is offered. I will remember that it takes forty-seven muscles to frown, seventeen to smile, and just four to get your point across. I will remember that life is a journey, not a destination, and that even if you are on the right track, you will still be run over if you just sit there. And I will remember that the meaning of life is not in paragraph form, but is seen or heard or felt, depending on who you are and how you got it. To misquote a song, life may be unpredictable, but that is what makes it worth living. Vaya con Dios, graduates. Enjoy this summer — it will probably be our last. Good afternoon, good riddance, and Happy New Year.
---
note: i wrote this piece more than four years ago, as a requirement for my high school graduation. it was never used officially, but i've heard rumors that it is still being touted by zobel's english department as an example of excellent essay writing. for myself, i make no claims beyond that once upon a time, i thought it was pretty damn good.
i belatedly dedicate it to the people of catch 2t7 and the malate cute staff. do not go gentle.
sige ingat.ü
posted by stani at 12:17 AM
comments (0)
[Friday, February 09, 2007]
it usually takes a feat of great athletic ability to successfully find a seat on an ayala-bound bus from bicutan during the morning rush hour. i myself have to risk life and limb in this manner at least once every week, when our family vehicle is prohibited from city roads due to coding rotation. often, i just start for work an hour or two later than i should, citing traffic, and arrive late, as is expected, but mercifully whole. yet even with that precaution, i only succeed in limiting the number of my opponents to a manageable level, not eliminating them altogether.
thus it was a rather unexpected occurrence this morning that a bus rolled up to the loading zone with a banner on it proclaiming a free ride, sponsored by the "freedom from debt coalition". both the driver and conductor were inviting passengers to hop on, claiming that there were no strings attached; it was a testament to the jadedness of the filipino people that out of the 50-odd people sweating in the hot bicutan sun, only ten of us had the courage to take their word for it.
i was rather suspicious that the bus was in a good physical state, with quality air-conditioning, considering that we were neither given a lecture nor asked to sign any petitions. a few passengers even attempted to pay the conductor, who was giving out tickets [perhaps for logistics' sake], but he refused good-naturedly. this, according to him, was the aforementioned organization's way of commemorating the people power revolution of '86.
it honestly felt good to have a tangible return in the name of celebration, as opposed to the usual method, which involves certain people who had nothing to do with the revolution collectively stuffing their snouts full of lechon and cake [alright, i was a bit young to have known the meaning behind the march, but i was there, i can assure you]. given this, i ended up feeling more than a bit sorry for those who hadn't budged from the bus stop, still standing in the stifling heat because they simply couldn't believe that such a thing was even possible anymore.
i'll spare you the details at this point; just read between the lines.
sige ingat.ü
posted by stani at 7:48 PM
comments (0)
thus it was a rather unexpected occurrence this morning that a bus rolled up to the loading zone with a banner on it proclaiming a free ride, sponsored by the "freedom from debt coalition". both the driver and conductor were inviting passengers to hop on, claiming that there were no strings attached; it was a testament to the jadedness of the filipino people that out of the 50-odd people sweating in the hot bicutan sun, only ten of us had the courage to take their word for it.
i was rather suspicious that the bus was in a good physical state, with quality air-conditioning, considering that we were neither given a lecture nor asked to sign any petitions. a few passengers even attempted to pay the conductor, who was giving out tickets [perhaps for logistics' sake], but he refused good-naturedly. this, according to him, was the aforementioned organization's way of commemorating the people power revolution of '86.
it honestly felt good to have a tangible return in the name of celebration, as opposed to the usual method, which involves certain people who had nothing to do with the revolution collectively stuffing their snouts full of lechon and cake [alright, i was a bit young to have known the meaning behind the march, but i was there, i can assure you]. given this, i ended up feeling more than a bit sorry for those who hadn't budged from the bus stop, still standing in the stifling heat because they simply couldn't believe that such a thing was even possible anymore.
i'll spare you the details at this point; just read between the lines.
sige ingat.ü
posted by stani at 7:48 PM
comments (0)
[Wednesday, February 07, 2007]
unbeknownst to those of you, if any, who still visit my dusty corner of the internet, i have, in fact, been very prolific the past week in updating [yes, you read correctly] this blog. excluding this entry, a full 118 others have been added to the roster. but where, you might ask, are these phantomic articles to be found, since there appear to be no other new entries aside from this one?
the answer to that lies, as most things, in the past. a few months ago, i had the misfortune to be locked out of my fileserver, which was kind enough to freeze my account without so much as a warning email, thereby severing me from the written accounts of the first year of my college life.
fast-forward to last week, where by sheer chance i stumbled upon the internet wayback machine. imagine my surprise at the discovery that the official archives for the entire world wide web had deigned my little ol' blog significant enough to be backed up. 168 hours and a number of aesthetic corrections later, i am semi-proud to present the half-witted rambings of my four-years-younger self, as found in the archive links yonder to the right.
note that the words presented therein are often embarrassingly juvenile, even by my standards, which is to say that they reflect a period in my life which found me careless, carefree, and thinking myself impervious to change. needless to say, most of the opinions [and even facts!] noted in those pages are now foreign to my field of magnitudes.
if you still insist on venturing through, please do remember that there are reasons why the human brain is equipped with the capacity to invent, to rose-tint, and to forget.
sige ingat.ü
posted by stani at 2:40 PM
comments (4)
the answer to that lies, as most things, in the past. a few months ago, i had the misfortune to be locked out of my fileserver, which was kind enough to freeze my account without so much as a warning email, thereby severing me from the written accounts of the first year of my college life.
fast-forward to last week, where by sheer chance i stumbled upon the internet wayback machine. imagine my surprise at the discovery that the official archives for the entire world wide web had deigned my little ol' blog significant enough to be backed up. 168 hours and a number of aesthetic corrections later, i am semi-proud to present the half-witted rambings of my four-years-younger self, as found in the archive links yonder to the right.
note that the words presented therein are often embarrassingly juvenile, even by my standards, which is to say that they reflect a period in my life which found me careless, carefree, and thinking myself impervious to change. needless to say, most of the opinions [and even facts!] noted in those pages are now foreign to my field of magnitudes.
if you still insist on venturing through, please do remember that there are reasons why the human brain is equipped with the capacity to invent, to rose-tint, and to forget.
sige ingat.ü
posted by stani at 2:40 PM
comments (4)
[Saturday, February 03, 2007]
a certain friend of mine [let's call him 'jerry'] asked me yesterday to accompany him to glorietta, where he would be purchasing a few articles of clothing before a weekend in corregidor and a business trip to singapore right after. having nothing much to do that particular night before my parents would pick me up from work, i replied affirmatively, although i usually find shopping a chore. i figured that although i would rather do a large number of things instead, updating this blog was not one of them. alas, hindsight, where were you in my hour of need?
anyway, we went to the landmark, where he proceeded to direct me towards the men's underfashion department. now there's a showstopper if there ever was one. here i was thinking he was after jackets, a couple of ties, hell, maybe even a pair of shoes. instead, i found myself knee-deep in elastic, white-cotton shit. at that point in time, i thought it best to confirm my rising suspicions.
upon asking what our business in that particular section of the department store was, and receiving the answer that we were, in fact, questing for undergarments, i began to find some way of extricating myself from said situation. first off, i stated, i was by defintion a somebody else, and as such was not an ideal companion for such a purchase, since they are usually done sans others; and secondly, i had for the past few years been wearing boxers, even [especially] at home, and therefore had limited knowledge of the why's and wherefore's of close-fitting underpants. in conclusion, i had neither reason nor willingness to be there and as such i would be going now see you tomorrow ok bye.
well, apparantly poor jerry had no prior experience in shopping of any sort [thus, leaving him to his own wits would be tantamount to homicide by neglect] so i finally gave in to being on standby while he attempted to pick out briefs in his size. at one point i discovered that he had been "trying out" the ones he had favored by stretching them over his groin, much to the dismay of passers-by. i quietly pointed out that such methods are often frowned upon in public, prompting him to inquire about the methods that aren't. i replied "tantsahin mo na lang", which in the vernacular corresponds to "just estimate it".
unfortunately, that phrase has an additional, lesser-known meaning, somewhat akin to "just measure it out", which was, equally unfortunately, the definition jerry thought to adopt, which he carried out by wrapping the articles of clothing around his neck, in much the same method as that by which pants are "fitted". by this time, whatever thin layer of dignity i had managed to hold onto upon entering that cursed ground now lay irrepairably torn amid the gartery, cottony trapezoids that littered the varnished wooden floor. the saleslady had been regarding us with some amusement for the past ten minutes, and was now looking at me as if this travesty was somehow my fault; i somehow found the strength to quip "boyfriend ko. foreigner."
what else was i supposed to do?
by the time we were through with the underfashion excursion, i was thoroughly ready to part ways with dear jerry. but i still had a good hour to kill, and jerry promised that he was done with unmentionables, so i saw no harm in walking him through a few polo shirts. hey, i thought, what more could happen?
let us step back for a second and examine that statement. by taking a page from the great philosophers of yore, one could surmise that so long as all the atoms in the universe do not simultaneously freeze, anything can happen. and this anything is not guaranteed to be a good anything. in fact, due to the predispositions towards increased entropy, this anything is more likely to be a bad anything. and in my case, this bad anything turned out to be jerry recognizing the words "dressing room" without recognizing the words "door", "shut", and "lock". end result: for the second time in the last 30 minutes, the late-night shoppers at the landmark were treated to a rather extraordinary occurrence.
and as also for the second time in the last 30 minutes, i was bent over, hunting for my ego among the ruins of past fabrics, the saleslady [a different one this time] was looking at me for answers. i ventured to ask how often this type of scenario manifested itself, and she responded "'pag foreigner lang".
well, you know what i said next.
sige ingat.ü
posted by stani at 2:17 PM
comments (4)
anyway, we went to the landmark, where he proceeded to direct me towards the men's underfashion department. now there's a showstopper if there ever was one. here i was thinking he was after jackets, a couple of ties, hell, maybe even a pair of shoes. instead, i found myself knee-deep in elastic, white-cotton shit. at that point in time, i thought it best to confirm my rising suspicions.
upon asking what our business in that particular section of the department store was, and receiving the answer that we were, in fact, questing for undergarments, i began to find some way of extricating myself from said situation. first off, i stated, i was by defintion a somebody else, and as such was not an ideal companion for such a purchase, since they are usually done sans others; and secondly, i had for the past few years been wearing boxers, even [especially] at home, and therefore had limited knowledge of the why's and wherefore's of close-fitting underpants. in conclusion, i had neither reason nor willingness to be there and as such i would be going now see you tomorrow ok bye.
well, apparantly poor jerry had no prior experience in shopping of any sort [thus, leaving him to his own wits would be tantamount to homicide by neglect] so i finally gave in to being on standby while he attempted to pick out briefs in his size. at one point i discovered that he had been "trying out" the ones he had favored by stretching them over his groin, much to the dismay of passers-by. i quietly pointed out that such methods are often frowned upon in public, prompting him to inquire about the methods that aren't. i replied "tantsahin mo na lang", which in the vernacular corresponds to "just estimate it".
unfortunately, that phrase has an additional, lesser-known meaning, somewhat akin to "just measure it out", which was, equally unfortunately, the definition jerry thought to adopt, which he carried out by wrapping the articles of clothing around his neck, in much the same method as that by which pants are "fitted". by this time, whatever thin layer of dignity i had managed to hold onto upon entering that cursed ground now lay irrepairably torn amid the gartery, cottony trapezoids that littered the varnished wooden floor. the saleslady had been regarding us with some amusement for the past ten minutes, and was now looking at me as if this travesty was somehow my fault; i somehow found the strength to quip "boyfriend ko. foreigner."
what else was i supposed to do?
by the time we were through with the underfashion excursion, i was thoroughly ready to part ways with dear jerry. but i still had a good hour to kill, and jerry promised that he was done with unmentionables, so i saw no harm in walking him through a few polo shirts. hey, i thought, what more could happen?
let us step back for a second and examine that statement. by taking a page from the great philosophers of yore, one could surmise that so long as all the atoms in the universe do not simultaneously freeze, anything can happen. and this anything is not guaranteed to be a good anything. in fact, due to the predispositions towards increased entropy, this anything is more likely to be a bad anything. and in my case, this bad anything turned out to be jerry recognizing the words "dressing room" without recognizing the words "door", "shut", and "lock". end result: for the second time in the last 30 minutes, the late-night shoppers at the landmark were treated to a rather extraordinary occurrence.
and as also for the second time in the last 30 minutes, i was bent over, hunting for my ego among the ruins of past fabrics, the saleslady [a different one this time] was looking at me for answers. i ventured to ask how often this type of scenario manifested itself, and she responded "'pag foreigner lang".
well, you know what i said next.
sige ingat.ü
posted by stani at 2:17 PM
comments (4)