About Me

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ella. twenty-one. everything on impulse.
This blog's intended to be an online journal of some sort where I post my ramblings and obsessions, where I share photos of my walks, where I tell you how awesome my day went or how crappy it was. No, this is not a diary because no matter how personal it gets here, I still have the liberty to keep to myself the names of the people I want dead.

Tuesday, April 29, 2008

All hail Jessica Zafra!



My own theory of devolutionAfter our supposed-to-be artstud class (sir kept us waiting..waaah!!), I went to the educ lib to find Sputnik Sweetheart, that Murakami book that I kept raving about in the past. To my dismay, it was for room use only and was located in the "Reading for Pleasure" corner... I leafed through it since I can't take it home and began reading a few paragraphs. I didn't pay attention to the page numbers and so I found myself on page23 and I can't seem to put it down. But I really have to go to my freakin' computer programming class so I left. I went back after class and saw that the book wasn't there anymore. It was with some stranger and he seemed too attached that he wouldn't put it down. Waaah! I instead took a Jessica Zafra book, Womanagerie. You can never go wrong with a Zafra book. Haha.. I couldn't stop smiling. The guy (with dreadlocks, by the way, and a meter in front of whom I've humiliated myself with later on by being so tactless and saying that he's not my type but I love his hair.. darn!) beside me seemed annoyed. But what the heck. Let me share to you one of her articles in what seemed to be one hell of a great read... I really could relate to this.. There's no denying it. XD
by Jessica Zafra
See, I have this theory about alcohol. The more you drink, the lower you go down the evolutionary ladder. When you start swigging the vodka (or the poison of your choice), you're recognizably human. A few shots later, the change begins.


Your vision blurs. The room appears to be spinning. Slowly, at first, then you feel like you're inside a blender with some oranges and ice. Your face feels lopsided, and you ask your drinking companions if one side of your face is larger than the other. And when you have to go to the bathroom, walking upright makes you nauseous. You sort of slouch over with your arms down to your knees and do an ape-like shuffle... And that's when you've gone APE. Monkey. Simian. You've just rejoined our distant relatives.



But you don't stop drinking, nonono. What, and be a spoilsport? You go on swilling the drink of depressed Russians, the stuff they imbibe because it takes so long to line up for Coke. Soon, you can't even stay on your feet anymore. Your legs turn into vestigial appendages (meaning they're there but you can't use them). And if you have to travel to another part of the room, you crawl over. You slither on your hands and stomach. You even make a cursing noise that resembles hissing. Bingo. You're in the REPTILE stage.



If you're normally the talkative, hyperverbal sort, you will find that imbibing alcohol not only loosens your tongue, but charges it electrically. First there is a noticeable rise in the volume of your voice. Soon you've got a built-in megaphone. Not only do you insult your friends in a voice that carries all the way to the next block, but you also reveal your darkest secrets to people you just met two hours ago. You stop talking and you start speechifying. You get pompous. Eventually you stop making sense. A sure sign that you've devolved to the POLITICIAN level, a stage closely related to reptiles particularly crocodiles (buwaya). It is here that you are at your most obnoxious.



Fortunately the politician stage passes, although the duration varies from person to person. Some verbose types can go on for hours, in which case it is necessary to force feed them several kilos of polvoron (a very effective mouth sealant). On the other hand, you could tape everything they say, and make some bucks through good old honest blackmail.



You keep on drinking, and the alcohol content of your blood continues to rise. Your brains are getting pickled. If you should insist upon driving yourself home, you will make things really easy for the mortuary people. They wouldn't have to embalm you anymore, they can just stick you in a jar and put you under bright lights for your grieving relatives. You can't even crawl anymore, so in your warped state of mind, you attempt to swim on the floor. This is either the Sammy the Sperm phase, in which you regress to the time you were racing several thousand other sperm cells to reach that egg, or the FISH phase, fish being lower down the food chain.



Soon your body refuses to take any more pickling, and goes to sleep on you. You pass out on whatever surface you happen to be on. Hopefully you land on a surface that is not conducive to pneumonia. (This is why you must make sure friends are present when you drink. If you get smashed, you can be reasonably sure they won't leave you on the street to get run over by a truck.). When you've lost consciousness, you've gone as far down the evolutionary ladder as you can. You're not even a living organism anymore, you're a ROCK.


The next morning, the process of evolution starts up again. You wake up, and you ask. "How did I get here? Where am I? What's my name?" Your mouth tastes like toxic waste, battery acid, or something that you forgot to put in the refrigerator that developed green spots. Your head is being bludgeoned at regular intervals with an invisible bag of shot.


You mouth vile things - you're a politician. You crawl toward the bathroom - you're a reptile. You stand on your legs to reach the sink - you're a monkey. You throw up, and between heaves, you swear never to touch The Vodka from Hell again. You're making resolutions you know you won't keep - Congratulations, you're human again.

Wednesday, April 9, 2008

Longest Hour


      The longest hour in your life comes when you become stuck in a nauseating non-airconditioned bus, on the edge of your sanity, on the verge of pissing and pooping, and on the thin line drawn between wishing to just die there and then, and actually dying.

       Yesterday, I was on the bus for a 5-hour trip from Alaminos, Pangasinan to Manila. Thirty minutes passed and I felt like I was shivering. Cold sweat trickled down my face and then there it was… That tingling sensation in my guts… Fucking shit and a half!!! Why now?!?
       I thought I’d have control over it. Like an innocent stranger in some torture chamber, I mustered all my strength to endure this fucked-up state for another 30 minutes. I crouched forward and leaned my head on the seat in front , tucked my stomach in, closed my eyes, pretended to be asleep, and cursed under my breath… P.I.!!!

       I was actually considering the fact of just dropping off somewhere and finding some “place of comfort”. But when I turned my head to face the window, all I could see is green! Shit! There is no way I’m gonna drop shit in these wastelands!
I returned to my crouched state and the next time I opened my eyes, SIBILISASYON! Mangataren, Pangasinan. I told Kuya to pull over and clearly without hesitation, I told him, “Najejebs na po ako eh!”… He got to the compartment and lowered my backpack. I left it beside some unknowing candy vendor and asked him where I could poop. God was truly hearing me out. There I saw public restrooms painted green and found myself sighing with relief.

       Tissues! I needed tissues! And whadyaknow, toiletry products were sold outside the restroom. I grabbed a handful of neatly folded ones when Ate blurted out, “Miss, piso isa nyan!” I was thinking at that moment, “Ate, even if you sell those for a hundred apiece, I’d still buy BECAUSE I BADLY NEED THEM!”

       I finally let it all out with ever shaking knees and friggin’ relief. I got out and paid for the tissues and the additional fee for pooping and splashed on some alcohol. I went back to the candy vendor to find out that my bag wasn’t with him anymore!
And then I saw the bus… My bus… And I saw my bag!

       Kuya, I love you na! You’ve waited for some lady to finish pooping. What a heroic act!
       First thing I need to do when I get back to manila is to have a monument built after you…
       
       P.S. When the bus pulled over for a stop at Tarlac, I hurriedly got out and searched for a store to buy some Loperamide and a bottle of Gatorade. And then when I was about to pay… 97 pesos?! For a teeny weeny capsule and some Gatorade?! Fuck! But I’m left with no choice other than paying for the stuff and cursing the store owner under my breath…

ABUSO NA!

Saturday, April 5, 2008

Bolinao Express



I'm in pangasinan right now. Yup. My who-the-hell-cares attitude and my thick amphibious skin got me here in the first place. Imagine, we went to Bolinao which is almost 2 hours away from where we're (Cesar and I) staying and all I got with me is Cesar's blue body bag containing sunblock, a change of underwear, deo, my phone and my wallet. I was already clad in a bikini beneath my purple top and black shorts for time-saving purposes... XD

We got on the bus, not knowing where and when to tell manong driver to pull over and drop us off.. When Ces asked me where the fuck we were, I told him with an irritated look in my eyes- "NOWHERE. WE'RE IN THE MIDDLE OF NOWHERE." The travel was tough. I had a big box of unknown stuff between my legs (care of the dorky girl beside me) and had a pineapple sprite float profusely wetting my left hand.


Taken from our EVER interesting conversation on the bus:

CES: "Haggard na ba?"
MOI: "Super haggard! Zigzag* EVER!"

CES: "Kadiri mga ktabi ko... eeeewww...
Malagkit ung skin. EVER."
MOI: "For friggin' Pete's sake, stop being a sissy!"

(*- referring to the scarily one-slightly-wrong-turn-and-we're-dead zigzag road en route to bolinao...)

And so when we saw the "Welcome to Bolinao" signboard, we got off the bus with that bewildered look on our faces and really got a "warm" welcome from the tricycle drivers pushing each other aside to take us as passengers. Shit. Just pure haggardness. We got on the tryk with the driver who had the lowest bid (yup, 30 pesos) and had him decide on where to drop us off. Yeah we were daredevils. Living life on the edge and entrusting it to a manong driver.. Good luck..)

We got off at some "Rock Garden Beach Resort" and all our efforts were paid off. The beach was okay but what topped it off were the exotic animals in their mini-zoo.. There was a wide variety of fowls that had nothing more to say than a well-practiced "PANGET!" and "PANGET KA!". Yeah, just the thing we need after a life-threatening and exhausting travel. But what the hell?!? It's not everyday that I get to do this stuff.

I took of my shirt and swam while cesar had a chat with a long lost friend. Of all the places he could meet up with Noreen (whom he hasn't seen and lost contact for almost 2 years since their botany class), why Bolinao? And why on Rock Garden Resort? Freakin' amazing , right?!

After some "bastusan" encounters with some tambays, after a long wait at the bus stop, and after some gastrocnemius-enlargening long distance walking, we finally reached Cesar's house. I already called it a day but to our surprise, cesar's mom and Honey were still not home. If I call our Bolinao trip EXTREME, theirs was an even more extreme trip. XD

P.S. Tita and Honey went home at 12 midnight. WTF?!? (We played "PARENTS" that night and actually had our minds preoccupied with worry. Add to that so much stress from that freakin' trip.)
P.P.S. This stupid computer (in this stupid hole-in-the-wall net shop) is fuckin' slow!! Snail-paced!! Gonna post the photos soon...XD)