Thursday, March 29, 2007

A rush of nausea to the head.

Nowadays, commuting can be a real pain in the ass. No, not because of traffic, which has become bearable thanks to the newly-installed traffic lights. You can endure the traffic, but you're sure as hell lucky if you get down on a jeepney or a taxi without a headache after a dose of the Bisaya rap that makes it important to contemplate on phenomena such as farts, smelly armpits and thick eyebrows. Here are some lines: "Utot, baho kaayo... kabalo bitaw kang baho nganong simhuton!" (Fart, you know it stinks, why in the hell should you smell it?) Or: "Baho ka'g ilok... makasakit ug utok!" (Your armpit stinks... it makes one sick to the head!).

I understand this could be a venue for local budding talents or artists, but God, after hearing three puke-inducing songs about farts and armpits and thick eyebrows, it just makes you sick to the head.

2 comments:

isko b. doo said...

hahahah! swerteha nimo oi. Arang2x nalang na kaysa atong mga kanta ni sarah geronimo! Gaad!

Anonymous said...

bwahahahahahaha!!!! yey, i also heard the armpit song..it was a very awkward situation in the jeepney, everyone's looking at each other's armpit!!!

Not Guilty,
_gorgeous Bayang_

Choose life. Choose a job. Choose a career. Choose a family, Choose a f—king big television. Choose washing machines, cars, compact disc players, and electrical tin openers. Choose good health, low cholesterol and dental insurance. Choose fixed-interest mortgage repayments. Choose a starter home. Choose your friends. Choose a three piece suit on hire purchased in a range of f—king fabrics. Choose DIY and wondering who the f—k you are on a Sunday morning. Choose sitting on that couch watching mind-numbing, spirit-crushing game shows, stuffing f—king junk food into your mouth. Choose rotting away at the end of it all, pishing your last in a miserable home, nothing more than an embarrassment to the selfish, f—ked-up brats you have spawned to replace yourself. Choose a future. Choose life . . . But why would I want to do a thing like that? I chose not to choose life. I chose somethin’ else. And the reasons? There are no reasons. Who needs reasons when you’ve got heroin?

Renton, Trainspotting