"Sorsi, why haven't you been blogging lately?"
"Sorsi, I haven't read anything of yours lately."
Well, that's because I've practically abandoned my Friendster blog. Everything's at my site, www.thatgirlwasme.com =) I'm just too lazy now to keep re-posting my entries here=) So...see you there!
I was fixing my photos on my Flickr account last night… and I remembered how it was when we still used film and manual cameras. I remembered our Agfa photo processing store…our family business.
I started working at our store at a young age (I don’t know if it’s a Chinese thing because all the Chinese hardware stores in our neighborhood also had the sons and daughters working at the store). My first tasks were counting the pictures (the machines were low-tech then, we had to actually count pictures. Now, the machine automatically counts and sorts the pictures.) and manning the cash register. I loved working at the store. I learned how to count money, give change and..unfortunately, how to make ‘kupit’ while working the cash register. And I got hours of entertainment looking at other people’s pictures while on counting duty=P It’s like I’m a voyeur into other people’s lives. I knew which customers went to the beach, which ones had parties, which ones have nice or crappy homes…etc.
After how many years of voyeur-ing other people’s photos, I have noticed some commonalities in their picture-taking habits…and some idiosyncrasies of Pinoys. I used the word ‘Pinoys’ here for ease but I don’t mean to say ALL Pinoys are like this. Our store, after all, was located on Kalentong St. Our customers were mostly class CD=)
Wanting to catch the last fireworks shows of China and the Philippines last Saturday, I made sure I was on a bus home by 7pm (I’ve been watching the Pyro Olympics from a small window near our garbage chute in our condo building). Unfortunately, I got stuck in traffic for three hours, ironically caused by the same event. Most of the people in the bus already started to get up and walk since the traffic was at a standstill. I was too lazy to do the same…and I figured, I didn’t know my way home by foot anyway….so I decided to wait out the traffic. Luckily, I had a book in my bag. I bought it as a recommendation from Jun. The title? How to Find Your One True Love by Bo Sanchez. I finished the book by the time I got home…and missed the fireworks.
Have you ever led to the destruction of someone else’s relationship? I have. But not in a ‘third party’ kind of way. A few years ago, I found out a friend’s boyfriend was overtly flirting with girls in his college. I told the best friend of my friend so she’ll be warned. She broke up with him and I believe…to this day…that the guy in question hates me. Shortly after, I found out the boyfriend of my friend was scum …so I kept convincing my friend to break up with him. She did. And I got word that if I were a guy, the scum and his entire barkada would’ve beaten me to a pulp.
Read more...
Joel Tantoco has allegedly died of bangungot.
I found out about it when I told my friend, “Alam mo ba, binangungot nanaman ako kagabi!”. And she told me that Joel Tantoco has just died this morning of bangungot.
It’s weird but I have experienced ‘bangungot’ several times although I’m still not very sure of the meaning of the word. My friend said mine would just fall under ‘nightmare’ because I haven’t died of it yet. “Pag bangungot, ibig sabihin natuluyan ka na.” Another said that my episodes classify as bangungot…”Pag natuluyan ka na, DEAD na ang tawag dun hindi bangungot.”
Finally, I am able to access my Friendster account again!!!! There has been something wrong with our connection in the office and it has made me unable to connect to friendster....I thought there was something wrong with Friendster itself but I'm at an I-cafe now and it seems okay. There have been a lot of new additions on my site so check it out=) I'm back!!=)
This Christmas was another lean Christmas…I didn’t get that many presents. And I didn’t get any of the things I listed in my grown-up Christmas list. However, I did get some really nice presents…blouses, tank tops, shorts…some sweets I can’t eat. I listed here the top 5 presents I got this year…(check out number 4!)
Updates on www.thatgirlwasme.com =)
Hehe, got tamad to paste it here=)
First of all, NO, this is not a bastos post. Tsk tsk…you and your dirty mind…just because I said “wonderful things that happen under the table”…
Something happened this afternoon that made me muse about the many wonderful things the cellphone has allowed us to do….besides being able to take and send pictures of your Garfield stuffed toy in compromising poses.
We were at a lunch table and the person across from me and I were texting about the person right beside me, without the person beside me knowing about it.
I’m sure you’ve also done this. We do it lots of times in meetings…wherein we all look like we are listening and interested…but under the table, we are all texting each other things like, “Grabe, kelan ba to matatapos!”, “Gutom na ko!”, “Ano ba yan, di pa ba siya titigil magsalita?”, ”Uupakan kita pag magtanong ka pa ng question! Hahaba nanaman yung discussion!”.
So I made list of some of the things that are now easier for us to do because of texting…
1. Real-time chismisan
Before: You had to wait for the person to go to the CR or leave before you and your friends can talk about him or her.
Now: While you are all sitting at the table, you can instantly text your friend, “Shet mare, ang cute niyang katabi mo, pakilala mo ko, pero discreet lang ha!” or “Yung katabi mo ba boy or girl?”….
Situational:
Friend A says, “I’m going out with this guy named Chuva Chuva…he’s so gwapo and bait to me“…you can immediately text friend B from across the table, “Eh dba girlfriend ni Chuva Chuva si Chenes Chenes?”, to which friend B doesn’t know the answer so she forwards it to friend C. Then friend C replies to friend B, “OO, 1 year na sila ni Chenes Chenes!”, And so friend B texts back to you, “Sila nga ni Chenes Chenes! OMG, number 2 si friend A! Shud we tell her?” to which you will reply, “Hinde, hayaan mo siyang mapahiya!”. Confusing? That’s real-time chismisan for you.
I finally solved the case of my missing cupcakes!
And found some old photos of Garfield the CatWhore...
I killed my dentist. Okay…I didn’t really kill my dentist…but I was her last patient on the night she and her family died.
She was my orthodontist when I was about 11. My grandma had paid her A LOT for my braces (braces were still very expensive back then). I had difficulty stopping thumb-sucking (yeah, liked to suck;P) when I was young, causing my front teeth to be sungki, plus I had what they called ‘bimaxillary protrusion’ (too many teeth for my small mouth).
After a few months with my upper teeth brace already installed, my dentist and her entire family (husband, son, yaya) died in a tragic accident. I was their last patient that night. I remember they were in a hurry to leave because they wanted to go to Landmark. They died that night.
I tell this story of how my dentist died (was murdered according to people) to every new dentist I went to afterwards to scare my dentists from giving me pain. It’s weird that I don’t get sick and the last regular doctor I’ve had was my pediatrician…but when it comes to dental problems, I have soooo many. I’m always on the dentist chair and I’ve even developed a high tolerance for pain. After my original orthodontist died, I went from dentist to dentist trying to continue the treatment. The braces festered on my mouth for over 3 years. Finally, we gave up and just had them taken out.
Now, at 26, I have to get braces again because my lower teeth have started moving and squishing each other. What an awful time to have braces! I’m old and single! How will I catch a boy now that I look like a high school student with these braces! AND I have been recently required to wear eyeglasses. Eyeglasses and braces! The worst combination!
The people in my new condo hate me. No, these are not the residents… since there are only 4 or 5 of us in the entire building…and I haven’t met any one of them. These are the people working on the building.
The carpenters think I’m a bitch because I always give them the irritated look when they get on the elevator with me(not because I’m being a Gretchen Baretto, but because they’re always so sloooow!). The engineer hates me because I yelled at him over the phone for not doing something about the electricity after Milenyo. The building admin thinks I’m a spoiled brat because I keep giving demands (clean my bathroom! fix my lights! install my curtain rods!). The maintenance women hate me because I sweep all the dirt from my unit out to the corridor every night (because I don’t have a dust pan!) and leave my trash bags outside my door (not because I’m tamad but because it’s always dark at the garbage chute area). Even the intercom guy hates me because I screamed at him for disturbing my sleep.
So I’m very grateful that every morning, there is this one guy with a bigote who runs to help me with my bags and hails cabs for me. As in, every morning, when I step out the building, he would run to me, carry my bags, go to the middle of the street, conduct traffic, and hail me a cab.
Since I bought some extra Uraro cookies from my recent business trip to Quezon and Marinduque, I decided to give him one pack as a token of my appreciation. On the day that the building admin handed him the Uraro, I received this text message from the man with bigote:
Gd PM Mam. Mrming Mrming slamat po sa bgay nnyo po skin. Mam sna po pgpalain kyo ng buong Maykapal. Mam I mis u. Ingat po kyo plagi. I lv u.
Huwaaaattttt!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Creepy!!!
When I first started blogging, I specifically chose Friendster blogs so that only my chosen friends can see my entries.
A few months later, Marc gave me my new site (www.thatgirlwasme.com).
A month later, a boss googled me and found my site. She told another boss…who then googled me and found my site as well.
And just a while ago…I was in a meeting with my boss, the boss of my boss, the boss of the boss of my boss, and the company CEO. I was just sitting there, quietly laughing to myself because the Singaporean consultant kept pronouncing ‘access’ as ASSESS (“we will provide internet assess…”), when another consultant brought up blogging.
Alas, my blogsite was brought up and revealed to the big bosses! What’s more, the Singaporean said potential employers read the blogs of their applicants as well!
So, if you are a boss or a potential employer….
1. I would like to clear that this blog does not reflect, in any way, my professional performance. I am very serious about my work. In fact,the reason I’m blogging is to get consumer insight. I am trying to get into what our target consumers are doing. Well…actually…I started blogging because I was always dateless and had no one to talk to on weekends. And because they said if I blogged well enough, I could turn pro and earn enough to resign and never work again……
2. I would also like to clear that this does not reflect my total personality. I know that my entries are a bit risque…okay, some are outright vulgar…but this is not the suma total of my personality. I’m really a very nice, conservative young lady.
Manang Linda, my ever reliable cleaning lady, is becoming less and less reliable. She almost broke my flush, for the second time. She squeezes my bras too much when she washes them, making them deformed. She broke my kitchen cabinet. She keeps eating my cupcakes. She keeps throwing away things I need and keeps keeping things I don’t need (she threw away a Meralco electric bill but kept a bus ticket she found on the floor)!
And yet, our arrangement is so convenient that I can’t afford to ditch Manang Linda.
***
I used to have a poster of Batista on my ref door when I was still in my old condo. I had noticed then that everytime I came home after Manang cleaned the house, a fridge magnet would be covering Batista’s face. I thought then that maybe Manang didn’t like how Batista looks.
When I moved in to my new place, the movers threw away my Batista poster, so I just placed a baby picture of mine on the ref. When I got home one night after Manang cleaned up, I found MY face covered with a fridge magnet as well!!
So I set up an experiment…and here is what I found…
Before I left the house, my ref door looked like this:
I have been recently listening to a lot of call center recordings posted on blogs or sent through emails. Aside from the PLDT “PI” agent, the one that really made me laugh was the girl on the Dumb Pinoy Call Center recording.
Yes, we make fun of these…but don’t a bigger majority of our population actually speak this way? In fact, they should just create a separate dialect or language category altogether for call-center speak…something like “Pinglish”…Pinoy English.
And believe me…Americans can understand Pinoy English very well. Heck, they probably deal with Filipinos practically everyday in the States!
When my dad decided to go to the States, the first question on my mind was, HOW THE HELL IS HE GOING TO SURVIVE THERE?? This is someone who once told me he was going to take me to POK ARTS CHATTER (Folk Arts Theater) and who told me that I was “Kulang sa POKUS” (focus).
And yet, he is now a MOTIVATIONAL SPEAKER for this multi-level marketing company he works for. Whenever he brags to me, “Natulala yung mga Amerikano nung narinig mga sinabi ko. Natahimik sila!”…I would wonder if natahimik sila because they were impressed or because they didn’t understand a thing he said??
My friend recently bought herself some heavily padded bras to look more endowed and pleasing to men. And as you may have read from a previous entry, I am not an advocate of ‘fake’ boobs. I told her, “Why do you have to wear a faker bra when you have a perky butt and nice legs? You should highlight the assets you have instead of faking what you don’t have.” And I explained to her that not all men just want jugs.
Through several years of observation and conversations with drunken men, I concluded that there are Boobmen, Buttmen and Legsmen.
The Boobmen get turned on by big breasteses. The bigger the better. Why do men like boobs, my friend asked. Well, I don’t know. I used to think it was because they were programmed since they were young to like big jugs because all the porn girls have big boobs. But then, why would they have placed busty women on porn in the first place if it didn’t turn out to be a great turn on for men? So I guess men like the novelty of boobs simply because they don’t have them. Unless of course they’re fat and have manboobs…in which case, they can just play with their own manboobs.
The Buttmen like asses and spanking. I didn’t know a lot of guys got turned on by butts until I supervised Johnny Walker Girls on a bar tour (one of my rakets). I noticed that there were more men checking out my girls’ butts than their cleavages (they were wearing spandex)! I even caught some men actually leaning to catch a better view of the girls’ butts. Why do men like butts, my friend asked. Ah, it’s for grabbing during sex, I said.
Some people have been asking me why I haven’t been posting anything for a while now. No, I haven’t been kept busy by a special boy…how I wish! For those who don’t know, I have a corporate job that keeps me really, really busy. Lately, we’ve been having planning seminars left and right and reports due here and there.
To add to all that, when I try to get some rest from a hard day’s work, a mumu keeps me from falling asleep!
I’m actually very used to being alone. You can put me in any hotel room and I can sleep by myself. I even stay in the office till 2am ALONE and it doesn’t bother me…even when the guard turns off most of the lights. I don’t usually get scared…because although I believe in ghosts, I believe in them more as spiritual beings who don’t bother us. I’m more scared of earthquakes (my major phobia…i guess because i live in condos) and aliens (my mom said if you wake up with unexplainable bruises on your body, that means aliens kidnapped you in your sleep!).
But ever since I moved into my new unit, I’ve been very uneasy at night. I’ve actually had to sleep with the light on on some nights.
At first, I just kept hearing weird sounds. The LRT and the very busy Taft Ave. is just outside my window so, yes, there are a lot of noises. But these noises are coming from INSIDE my room. And when I try to look for the source, I can’t find it! I’ve had to get up several times just to look around!
Then once, I was flushing the toilet when i heard a “Pssst!”. I ignored it. It came again, much louder, “PSSSST!” then another, even closer and louder…”PSSST!!” I went out the bathroom to investigate…and found nothing.
**Girls and boys, please do not try these at home. If you do try any of them, I am not accountable for the results or lack thereof.
I don’t know if men talk about their penis insecurities or penis envy with each other but we girls are very open to each other about the size of our breasteses=P Majority, myself included, want to have bigger jugs, of course. Only a few blessed ones are either satisfied or want to have breast reduction. Very few though are actually willing to get implants or injections. And so, we look for other ways to make ourselves more busty. Over the years, I have been advised so many ‘home remedies’ and such by different girls.
Yes, I have moved. I moved from my old condo unit to a new one AND I also moved my blog site (well, I'm in the process of doing so) to www.thatgirlwasme.com =) Yup, my own .com=P I already started writing my new entries there so...see you at my other site=)
Person 1: Sino si Sorsi?
Person 2: Yung maliit.
Person 1: Ahhh yun! Kilala ko na yun!
Person I was talking to on the phone: So ano totoong height mo?
Me: 4’8”
Person on phone: HA?!? May tao bang ganon???
Another person: Ano height mo?
Me: 4’8”
Person: Ay, eh di walang nanliligaw sayo?
Me: I’m 4’8”
People: Ows? Talaga? Imposible!
Yes, it’s true. I’m only 4’8”….unless the measuring system in our school is flawed. Every year, our school nurse would record our measurements and I have been 4’8” since 7th grade (actually, one time in high school, she measured it at 4’7”. something but decided to mark it as 4’8” anyway because I was about to cry.).
In school, I have always been one of the first girls in line. The only way I can be seated at the back of the classroom is when we’re seated alphabetically.
When I graduated, I was given an award for the yearbook….for being the smallest girl in the batch!
One time when I was in high school (our high school uniform is different from the grade school uniform), I was walking along the corridors of the grade 1 classrooms. A grade 1 student (who I didn’t know at all) approached me and said, “High school ka na?” I said, “oo”. She said, “Eh bakit ang liit mo?”
Since I liked joking around in school, I would harass the younger girls by making non-stop hirits. I’ve actually made a few girls cry because I made them kulit too much. A few years later, I had a tap on the back. When I turned around, I looked up at a tall girl looking down on me. She said, “Di mo nako kilala? Ako yung pinaiyak mo dati!”…uh-oh!=P
In college, I had friends who would put my arnis sticks at the very top of the lockers when the bell rings and enjoy the sight of me jumping up and down to reach them.
In the family, my cousins have made me their benchmark. They would measure themselves against me as they grow up. Once they’ve gotten even just a bit taller than me, they will rejoice. “Yey! Mas matangkad nako kay Cathy!”. It has gone on for 13 cousins now…and I bet my nephews will do the same.
During my sister’s wedding, I was seated with my baby cousins (grade schoolers). One of them said, “Why are you not married yet?”, I said, “I don’t even have a boyfriend yet.” “Why don’t you have a boyfriend? Is it because you’re so small? Maybe you should drink Cherifer so that you will grow taller…and then the boys will see you…and then you will have a boyfriend…so that you’ll get married!” (so the problem pala is that boys don't see me!) These are the same cousins who told me to dress as an Oompa Loompa for Halloween.
Excuse me my dear cousins but I’ve had boyfriends even if I’m this short. Yun nga lang, they looked like pedophiles having me in their arms=P I was always more than a ruler shorter than they were…and when they hug me, my head hits nothing but chest.
On MRT’s, my head is always on the same level as every construction worker’s armpit. In crowded places, my head always gets hit by people’s bags.
It’s really not my fault I was born short…my mom was only 4’11” or so. She didn’t let me take those Chinese growth balls for some reason. Growee and Cherifer were unheard of when I was young. I’ve tried jumping on New Year’s Eve, New Year’s Day and Chinese New Year! I've tried jumping over people, from high tables and from stairs! Still, I’m 4’8”.
Yes, I have wished to be taller. Sometimes I’d pray, ‘sige na Lord, kahit isang inch lang…please…”
But I guess there are advantages to being short too….like…ummm…you get to pass for the kiddie buffet at Las Vegas and pay cheaper, you look younger, people help you around a lot, you’re always in front of production numbers, you always get to be on top of the pyramids, etc.
I always liked the short basketball players who are good on the court like LA Tenorio or short people who become powerful like Marcos and GMA or great like Jose Rizal=) I know that we, the short people, have a big capacity/potential to be great…because we’ve had to work harder for things since we were young. We’ve had to work harder to reach that cookie jar on top of the cupboard…we’ve had to work harder to catch someone’s attention…we’ve had to work harder not to get our panties wet while walking from the shore to the waiting 'sundo' boat in Boracay (I always end up being the only one in our group who has to be carried by the porters=P), we’ve had to work harder to grab the last piece of chocolate first ... etc.=) And so, we become tougher (even when a number of her cabinet members bailed on her and with impeachment complaints here and there, GMA..undeterred...still remains in power)...we learn to fight back in other ways (If Jose Rizal were big and macho, he might have used the sword instead of the pen)...we learn to use our 'disadvantage' to our advantage (because he is short, LA easily slips through other taller players)...yan ang mga bagong bayani...ang mga pandak! BOW!
I'm taller than Farquaad!
Why I can never have an American boyfriend.
Short people being used as patungan...
Short people are sometimes bullied too...
Short people have very little 'fighting' chance....
Short people should not stay in the middle of tall friends...
No, I'm not the same age as these Americans in the picture. I was 22 when this picture was taken...these girls (and the fag at the back) were high school and middle school students. (If you're thinking..what is Sorsi doing at 22 with a bunch of high school girls dancing in a halloween kiddie talent show???...well, let's just say i was bored in the states...=)
A conio girl from school: “So why is your name Sorsi? Is it short for Sorsogon?”
Me: Ah yah…kasi I was born in Sorsogon so my mom named me Sorsogon Soriano.
My remedial class math teacher (I failed math in 2nd yr hs): Catherine!
Me: Ma’am, Sorsi nalang po.
Teacher: Ano?
Me: SORSI
Teacher: O sige, Horsy, halika dito.
Me: Ma’am, SORSI po!
Teacher: Ay Diyos ko, kaya kayo bumabagsak eh, kung anu-ano kasi mga pangalan niyo!
Another teacher: Pepsi, ikaw na sumagot sa blackboard.
A teacher in Ateneo: Wow, Sorsi Soriano….parang pang boldstar!
Sev Sarmienta, who became my thesis adviser, didn’t bother with ‘Sorsi’ anymore and just called me “Dwendita”.
American boss: So what do I call you Catherine?
Me: Sorsi
American boss: What?
Me: Sorsi
American boss: I’m gonna call you KitKat.
Starbucks variations of my name:
Sarsi
Farsi
Darcy
Sorcie
Dorothy
My friend: That’s my friend, Sorsi.
British guy (with British accent): So her name is So-si?
My friend: Yup.
British guy: Hmmm….So-si….Do you know that so-si means “kinky”?
Guy over the phone: SARSI? Like the softdrink?
Me: Yes but with an “O”
Guy: SARSO??
People think that I’m living the life because I’m living on my own. But really, it’s not as fun and easy as everyone thinks. Yes, there are perks to living alone like…I can eat, sleep, watch tv whenever I want and for as long as I want….I can walk around naked and get air dried after my shower….I don’t have to lock, or even close, the bathroom door….I can do my Carmen Electra Striptease Aerobics without anyone heckling…I can go home at 4am and no one will yell at me, I can decorate my place any way I want (I used to NOT be able to decorate my own space at home because my sister thinks I’m baduy=P Now I have my monkey collection, Batista posters, Ateneo paraphernalia and photos on display=P), I can dance like an idiot and sing outside the shower without anyone seeing me, etc.
But what people don’t see is that sometimes I get panic attacks…when I don’t know where I’ll get the money to pay for my rent or bills. I also worry because I know there’s no one to make me ‘salo’ if something bad happens. People don’t know that when I get sick (which, thank God, doesn’t happen often), I have no one to bring me food or water or give me medicine. I have to take care of myself. I also have to rely on self-medication because I usually don’t have money to go to the doctor. Sometimes I have nothing to eat and the smell of my neighbor’s cooking makes me suuuuper hungry that I’d have to keep myself from knocking on their doors and asking to be fed=P. When I get scared for some reason, I don’t have anyone to keep me company. And as some people may know, I get really bad nightmares sometimes (Thank God it hasn’t happened much recently)…to the point that I have a hard time breathing or get ‘bangungot’…and there’s no one there to comfort me. Once, the thought that I could die in my sleep and no one would even know I’m dead until my body starts to stink crossed my mind and bugged me for a while. I’ve been living with no cable tv, no landline and a broken toilet for a year now. I have no money saved up in the bank because every cent goes to my living expenses…and note that I haven’t gone shopping in a while and I just have a few pairs of shoes I can use. I wash dishes, take out the garbage, iron my clothes, cook my food, clean up my mess (well, I have manang Linda as well), do my groceries, kill insects, do repairs (I used my high heeled shoe as a hammer once) …all by myself.
So my advice is, STAY WITH YOUR PARENTS while they still let you and hoard all your money in a savings account! People are usually ungrateful of their parents and their living conditions. Like, some of my friends still have drivers and yaya’s (paid for by their parents), their credit cards or cellphone bills are still paid for by their parents, their food and gas and electricity at home are free, their parents pay for their non-stop schooling and collecting of diplomas, their parents pay for their gym or their clothes or their Brazilian waxing…and still get allowances! And what’s the setback?….oh, just a curfew or a few sermons here and there. Wish I could have it that way for even just a week!
One of our big bosses, who made me tell him my life story, told me though, that although I may be deprived of certain things compared to my rich friends, I am learning so much through my experiences and perhaps this is making me stronger and more ready to face certain things. Well…I don’t know what the world is preparing me for…a presidency? sainthood? world domination?
I’d sure like to know.=)
I went to my sister’s house last weekend to see my baby nephew and eat dinner there. Since it was a Sunday, they were having dinner at her mother-in-law’s house and I was kapal-muka enough to tag along since I’ve done so many times already. As I was finishing off the shrimp and sinigang, I noticed my sister’s mother-in-law looking at me. Then she said, “Buti di ka tumataba masyado ano? Kahit malakas ka kumain.” And that’s when I realized I was eating like I hadn’t eaten in weeks! It’s so embarrassing because everyone in my brother-in-law’s family already think I’m super duper matakaw (I spend New Year’s with them and they always notice how many times I go back to the buffet table). Last New Year, I remember my sister asking my bro-in-law’s cousin, “Have you met my sister Cathy?”, to which the guy replied, “Ah oo, siya yung matakaw.”
The truth is, I’m really NOT that matakaw! It’s just that…a.) I eat very slow…so people think I’m eating a lot when in reality, I’m just eating as much as they are but taking longer, and b.) It’s because I don’t get to eat REAL food! So every time I get to eat out (especially if it’s free), I really get so takam with the food. I mean, imagine, on regular days, I only eat either fastfood or MY cooking…and if you read my blog entries then you know how my cooking is.
To illustrate my condition further, I took some snapshots of my place last night...
My closet. (full)
My hamper. (full)
My DVD box. (full)
My refrigerator=P (empty)
The actual contents of which are: 1 egg, spreadable butter, normal butter, garlic, a packet of mayo, a jar of expired mayo (dunno why I have so much mayo), a jar of expired cheese spread, a love letter (I don't know why I have a love letter inside the ref..I think it came with chocolates kasi=P), bottles of water, a cup, some delicacy from Bacolod that I haven't touched....and that's it=P
My kitchen cupboard. (empty)
The contents of which are: 1 Baygon cockroach killer, 1 can of sardines (which I had bought for my cat ages ago), Maggi pork cubes, and some unused plastic bowls.
No wonder I'm starving, right?!
“She’s a maneater, make you work hard, make you spend hard, make you want all of her love.”
Why is it that there seems to be this universal law that all the bitchy girls should end up with all the good guys? I have seen this A LOT. The bitchiest girls get the cute, mabait, and RICH guys! While the good girls end up with the jerks and scumbags! The reverse, of course, then follows. The guys who are perfect boyfriends get the ingrate girls who treat them like their personal slaves and the bad boys get the demure, saintly girls who won’t even have a clue that they’re two-timing! And it’s not just me who has noticed this weird phenomenon. A lot of my girl friends have also mused about this imbalance in the relationship world.
If you are a good boy, for example, you most probably:
- carry your girl’s shopping bags and (gulp!) hand bag when you go out.
- lose every argument with your girl…that is, if you are even allowed to make an argument. You probably just shut up anyway, knowing that she is ALWAYS right.
- have gotten bitch-slapped by your girl at least once.
- scrimp on yourself starve during lunch break to be able to afford the expensive steak your gal is gonna order on your date and the gas for picking her up everyday from work.
- have military-type response time when given orders by Miss Boss.
If you’re a good girl, I bet that you:
-have been cheated on.
-are usually ignored or taken for granted by your boyfriend.
-pay for some of your dates.
-get honked at when being picked up at home.
-(in really bad cases) have been bitch-slapped by your boyfriend. (In which case, you should leave, girl! The only acceptable slapping from your guy should be some good butt-spanking once in a while=P)
If you’re Mr. Bad Boy, you most probably:
- cheat on your girl...and cheat on your girl #2 as well...
- go on boys nights out and have alone-time anytime you want, without having to make ‘paalam’
- get loads of hot sex, regardless of whether you get it from your real girlfriend or not.
- get picked up once in a while (or all the time!) by your girl.
- treat your girl like your PA…”paki kuha nga yung yosi ko”, “abot mo nga cellphone ko”, “paki kamot nga likod ko”….
If you’re a hard core BITCH…or say, a bratty girlfriend, I bet that you:
- can bitch-slap your guy and he’d still worship the ground you walk on.
- get flowers, chocolates, bears….all the cliché gifts!
- never had problems getting dates
- have your way all the time!
- never have to take out your wallet on dates.
- have 'PMS' every single day and your guy can't complain!
So why do the perfect boyfriends get attracted to the bitches? Are they just masochistic or something? Does this mean we should all turn prima donna to get the nice guys? (Sa bagay, I’ve seen some good girl-good boy couples before and my golay! …they were BORING as hell. The bad boy-bad girl couples in the meantime just have some sort of ‘open relationship’ to justify the screwing around=P)
Another thing I’ve noticed is that the rich boy-poor girl plot is no longer uso. Nowadays, the rich guys end up with rich girls. The rich are getting equally rich partners! HEY, DON’T BE GREEDY! SHARE THE WEALTH! The rich boys should get the destitute girls and the rich girls should get the men who can’t provide! The key word here is BALANCE!
PS. Do not take this blog entry seriously. It is a hyperbolic, bitter (??) foray into the current relationship scene and my exclusion from the said ‘scene’=P
As I celebrate my anniversary at Cityland Pasong Tamo, I'm also in the process of packing up my things and leaving for a new place. This is, of course, my nth moving. Since I came back from the States (2003), I've lived in Cityland Pioneer, WackWack Twin Towers and Cityland Pasong Tamo. Although our place at WackWack was my favorite (few cockroaches, rich neighbors, presence of celebrities like Paolo Paraiso, nice building), I'd have to say that my place at Cityland Pasong Tamo is the most memorable...because this is the first place I really had on my own. I found it on Buy & Sell by myself, negotiated with the broker, fixed up my stuff and lived in it (and messed it up) for a year...all on my own. I also paid my P7,500/month rent all by myself=T
I will truly never forget....
- How I smuggled in and kept a cat (BB) for the first few months so I won't be so lonely. (would've gotten a guard dog but it's not allowed)
- My peeping-tom jolog neighbors who used to always wave at me and yell "Miss! Miss!" everytime I forget to close my drapes (or "Miss, baka mahulog yung pusa!" when my cat wanders out the canopy). They moved out a few months ago and were replaced by this girl who I caught making out with a guy by the window...of course, I kept watching behind my drapes to see if 'anything' happens=P There also used to be a window through which I can see two girls with nice legs who always slept in short shorts in a lower apartment but I don't get to see them anymore.
- All the pokpoks and kabits in my building.
-The 'service' boys who drive me to work for P60.
-How I take out the trash at 3am so no one will see me 'cuz I'm too lazy to wear a bra.
-How I carried heavy groceries from Waltermart
-The I-cafe's where I sit with maids who spend hours chatting with Punjabi-looking foreigners. And that wonderful I-cafe that rents out DVD's=)
-The 'toot! toot!' of the train (home along da riles ako=P)
-THE COCKROACHES!!! ew!
-Last Valentine's Day when I got a really bad bout of UTI and needed to be brought to the ER but there was no one I could call to take me.
Things I wish I could've done in my 1 year of living there:
- I wish I had talked to the cute semi-kal guy who lives on my floor.
-Wish I spoke to even just one neighbor! Gosh, I'm such a hermit!
-Wish I had gone swimming at least once! (the pool is always filled with jologs people kasi so I don't bother)
-Wish I had my toilet fixed instead of leaving it broken for a year!
-Wish I had gotten cable TV!
-Wish I had crashed at least one roof deck party!...Instead of just yelling "SHUT UP!!!" everytime people were making noise up there.
People I'd like to thank:
My broker and the owner of the unit...who are a bit too motherly towards me sometimes...or i guess they're just making sure I'm still alive.
My laundry-lady who I entrust with washing even my dirty undies=P (haha, tamad talaga ako eh!)
My ex, who filled my ref with groceries the first few months I started living there.
My dearest Manang Linda....who can turn this:
to this: 
(Of course, i mess it up again a few days after.)
Never mind that she also made all my clothes smell like moth balls (by filling my cabinets with packs of moth balls) and broke my toilet. Never mind that she sends me bizarre texts like "Salamat po sa tenapy" (thanking me for the pastries I gave her) or "Yung Meralco mo due dit na" (reminding me of a due date) or "Sorry hindi ako naka refly agad" (for not replying) or the most recent "Debale pag wla kng urs magbayad etxt molng ako sagleten ko". Never mind also that she once placed a bottle of Maggi seasoning with my books and DVD's=P Without her, I'd be living in a pigsty!
And so, goodbye to my little haven on the 12th floor. How i wish i can finally settle in a permanent place...a place i can call home forever...or at least for more than a year.
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