Monday, September 17, 2007

First Day High

Jeez. The first-day jitters. I just have to blog this because it's historical. Well at least for silly me. As if to throw a big welcome bash for me, almost the entire Mindanao was debilitated with power. Something wrong with the power grid or transmission line in Bukidnon. Great. It's as if I sucked out all the energy into my own vacuum.

"Guys, this is Jay, our new (enter sounds of computers shutting down and generator buzzing)."

"Uh, hi."

9 comments:

aajao said...

hey congrats! may you be fulfilled as a public servant. :)

Jap said...

hehehe seriously? You know how it is in the movies, Jay, such is a bad omen, impending doom hahaha that's what happened just seconds before Godzilla stomped over New York or before the dinosaurs in Jurassic Park tore down the facility...now what kind of monster lurks in your office? =)

jayclops said...

aajao: thanks man!

jap: ako yung monster. di lang nila alam pa.

Anonymous said...

enter music "ave satani" from the Omen and Damien becomes you.

bwahahahah!

Anonymous said...

Freaking Firsts. Hehe.

<.> said...

gotcha. ei, welcome to your new home. you must have shaken the roots of the power cables because of your stunning presence. hihi.

way to go, jay! =)

Anonymous said...

bwahahaha nice! thats what we call a dramatic entrance. hehehe

digitalburyong said...

haha, i think we almost shared the same experience haha. how's the new work, man?

jayclops said...

hi chard. well, getting along.

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