Doppelgangers and lobsters

Third consecutive night of staying late at the office. Sorta big thing tomorrow, by office approximations. Last night, I logged out around 230am. At midnight, I saw our guard's doppelganger. Might be my astigmatism. Second time I saw something like it though. I told my colleague before she has one and she jumped at me. Friday night I was with 2 guy colleagues here also and out of the blue I plugged in Smashing Pumpkins and crazily mimicked Billy Corgan's voice doing Butterfly With Bullet Wings. "Despite of my rage, I'm still just a rat in a cage." Junee freaked out with the freakish precision. Then I did Gary V's Di Bale na Lang. Hay. Stress and the boundaries of insanity it pushes you to.

Anyway, I caught this short story by Woody Allen in The New Yorker in the light of the Madoff hullabaloo and its whirlwind of entanglements. The story is hilarious though, about fucked-up clients who ended up as lobsters to exact their revenge on the crazy sonofabitch by pincering his nose.

Fung Ku Fanda

Kung Fu Panda was cute and hilarious. Its skillful use of animation and slapstick delivers a whopping kung fu punch. Simply put, the story of a big fat kung fu-obsessed panda tells us to believe in ourselves, build on our own strengths and work on what we’ve got whether it is a humongous belly or a fat ass.

I think the last time I was laughing and giggling inside a cinema that I ended up clapping and thrown off my seat was Knocked Up or Horton (yes, the elephant). The fact that Po’s popop is a noodle-magnate goose is a comic relief in itself. Jack Black can get through the industry by playing a panda alone. Po was so cute the Beijing Olympics might just be given a boost. The fat panda may well be the official mascot.

I immediately felt the impact of the movie when one of the teens in the row in front of me started doing a Bruce Lee and whacking her friend. I thought the girl was possessed because she repeated her kung fu moves long enough to piss everybody near her. I swear she was momentarily possessed by the spirit of the Dragon Warrior or the malevolent Tai Lung.

The gang of chair-kicking big time assholes attacked again and ruined part of my viewing. Good thing I wasn’t the destined Dragon Warrior or I could’ve kicked their sorry asses to China.

On the road

While traveling to Marawi last week, I was kidding my colleague because she kept on opening the window of the vehicle and spitting what turns out to be phlegm. She had colds. You have to keep on coming up with stuff even as mundane and utterly nonsensical as phlegm just to beat the dead air especially on an 8-hour trip. And my bootleg mp4 player is busted.

So I told her to watch the perimeter when she spits because there might be a motorist tailing the van. At the rate she’s spitting, the poor guy propped up on a motor next to the vehicle might now be covered with splattered phlegm given he’s not wearing a helmet. It was gross but we laughed anyway.

And then we were eating fried peanuts and throwing the maroon-colored peelings off the window. I told her to watch out still the peanut peelings may shot up through the motorist’s nose, block his trachea, choke him, cause him to jerk malevolently till he skids off the road and slams into some huge tree. Now it turns morbid.

Then talks of sex and more sex which was like talking about office work since both of my colleagues are already married and have kids. I laughed with them as if I’m actually a 30-something bachelor who’s spent so many one night stands.

Then smoke suddenly comes out of the front hood. We had to stop twice. It was the fan belt that needed to be replaced. So much for the merriment. I jumped out to observe the nearby rubber trees, its dripping sap being scooped up by small coconut shells attached to the trunk. It was the first time I saw such a process. I proceeded to the vehicle and picked up Woody Allen’s Without Feathers and chuckled away.

***

Higanaon house

entrance to Marawi Demo Farm, MSU compound

Ranao Pool

Shock-style

Lemme start by giving words of wisdom from the proverbial spam messages, which as the frequency suggests, spammers get a lot of friggin money out of pestering people with out of this world sexed up phrases. Here's one from someone named Jewel M. Wesley: When I tried to give him oral sex, I practically choked. How do I do it without gagging? Please help! It's a valid question indeed (even underscored by the urgency of its las two words) but by golly, did it freaked the bejesus out of my sober and boring day. There goes your daily dose of comic relief Jay.

So anyway, I wanted to tell you about the Sukang Pinakurat which I've been gobbling (no, not in that kind of amount) these past days. I'm so obsessed with it that I practically smother every piece of food I intake with it piniritong isda, beef loaf, even tinapa, which I rid out of the sauce, and even scrambled egg just this morning. (No, this is not how it looks like but definitely by the looks of it, you know already how the searing spice would feel in your palate.) Forget the treadmill, this is the only exercise which can make you lose copious amount of sweat just by sitting and gobbling up food. Thanks to Mr. Reinardon, proprietor of the original sukang pinakurat in Iligan, who guested as one of the speakers in our recently concluded 6th Mindanao Food Congress. And while it is a food congress, the event doesn't have much edible food and cooking sessions to beat also. It's more agriculture-focused and food as a product of agriculture. Because I was assigned as the program manager, I haven't had the chance to go around the exhibit for some food samples.

Mr. Reinardon generously distributed bottles sukang pinakurat to the audience and us (promotions of course) during the last day. And yes, the concoction of powdered and sliced chili in vinegar is way better than digesting the opening and closing keynote speeches of Senator Angara and DA Secretary Yap.

Jayclops Simpson

Got this from Mitchie. Not a particular fan of The Simpsons but I badly need some diversion. Simpsonize yourself here.

A visit from Peeping Jane

Sheila came over our place last Saturday night. The last time I saw her was five or six years ago. She used to work as a waitress cum GRO (not the GRO you’re thinking) when we still operated this videoke joint after father resigned from the company he’s working with. This forms part of the wrongful decisions that send us hurtling downhill until now, the resignation I mean not Sheila.

Anyway, going back to Sheila, I mentioned her because I couldn’t help but remember a very funny thing when I was in high school when we still had the videoke joint. She was actually visiting my stepmother and called us from inside the room to have a good look at me and my siblings. I guess she was surprised to see how much I’ve grown physically from the teenybopper she and the other girls used to poke fun with.

As part of the cost-cutting and as an easy means to earn 50 pesos a night, I operated the videoke machine which that time was merely a 3-disc player where I exchange a roster of CDs containing Tom Jones, Engelbert Humperdinck, Air Supply, Bee Gees, which is just about what people normally sing every night. Imagine my eardrums getting immune to such repetitions that sometimes I caught myself singing to Delilah. The horror of it all.

So I have this nook at the back and the girls would hand me these small pieces of paper containing the song numbers which I would tack in order. I’d be lucky if there are a few drunkards who would give me an earful because they want their song to be played right away. No can do, mister. So I usually hid my head.

Because I’m not used to staying awake late, my eyes would normally droop starting from 11 pm. We’re open till 2 so go figure the agony. So when I have a whole line-up of songs programmed for say 15-20 minutes, I take short naps on the couch. And these girls would always try to unzip my shorts or simply pull the garter of whatever I’m wearing to check if mine was cut or something like that. I’m sure they don’t really mean to do exactly that because what would they really want from a 15-year old weener. The whorish giggles sure gave me something to wank about but I made it a habit to drink cups of coffee to stay awake.

Mao na ni ron.

Talk about too much love for the game. Found this one on Himantayon.com. They've got 'good pieces'. Boy, was I rolling on the floor.

Watching Game 2 of the NBA Finals at Tequila Joe’s, Ayala Center Cebu, 11 June 2007 10:17 AM.

Guy 1: Boanga, naunsa man pagkahitabo-a nga napildi man ang Pistons sa Cavaliers?

Guy 2: Maayo man gud ang Spurs.

Guy 1: Ha?

Sa NBI:

I-FINGER MO...

Girl 1: Taasa sa linya oi…

Girl 2: Lagi oi, maayo pa siya ay kay nauna na.

Girl 1: Alangan ningbayad man. Taymsa, asa man ta inig human kuha aning form?

Girl 2: Anha diha oh, mag fill-up ta sa form dayun magpa-finger.

Girl 1: Naa bayad magpa-finger diha?

Girl 2: 5 pesos man siguro.

Flights of logic

No amount of entertainment can ever add up to watching primetime Pinoy TV. Like me who doesn't have cable, amusement and annoyance is still rest assured. Last night while occasionally glancing at the TV (I was reading a book), which is now officially owned by my two little half brothers during primetime thanks to Super Twins and Aejan Jejurs (go figure):

1. The daily dose of political crap-o-mercials with sickening pop tunes and politicos smiling devious laughs in sheep's clothing. (Magsaysay, tara-tara-taralets. Fuck, I swear he's from some kind of hybrid alien who dropped on Earth with a big thud.)

2. Dina Bonnevie comparing the aging of Vic Sotto to THE George Clooney. Clooney is a film writer, producer, director and actor rolled into one with a witty political consciousness to beat. Vic is Enteng Kabisote. I rest my case.

3. Super Twins. I know its for kids, but couldn't Pinoy superheroes (and their writers) exhibit some sentido kumon? Naman naman!

4. Executive Secretary Eduardo Ermita wished for birthday boy Erap long life and many more birthdays to come. (Update!) And Erap adamant in the new GO pol-ad saying that we should revolt against corruption in the government.

5. Pacquiao impersonating Mike Enriquez.

6. The histrionics of self-important wannabe artistas and their self-important life stories in Half-Pinoy Big Brother. (How come it's Pinoy when everybody seems to be half-something. Half-German. Half-Aussie. Half-British. Half-Alien. Half-Male. WTF??!!

7. Christian Bautista's effortless attempt at being gay. Sing: Sa Pinoy care, walang tatalo, Pinoy care, handog mo sa mundo!!!!

8. (It's not Pinoy but I'm counting it.) Oprah interviewing Janet Jackson.

Now your turn.

holy mother of God!

At the end of the day, you're washed out. The people you've been trying to call and coordinate with have been summarily annihilated by H.G. Wells' tripods. Your brain cells are in dire need of nourishment. And then comes an email with the blessing of the Bluth family. Guranteed gas spasms and throes of hysterical laughter.

Eto na ang mga 'okrayable' friendster profiles. As it is!

Elaine:
>>"do you like listening musics? how about swit musics and rocks? ( anu raw, bato?) by the way, it's good meeting new peaple. (pinya ba yun? )

mitch:
>>"hi to all of you i want to have friends like you just chat me if you want too"
>>"i grew up in manila then i go to usa for vacation" (talaga lang ha, halatang halata...)
>>"im a shy lady when it comes for boys" (hahaha! Laking states ito! Wohoo!!!)

'marlaX':
>>"mah hair s quite long and sleek wit a bang" (pumuputok? happy new year!)
>>"i hv ds pierce on mah upper left ear" (sinong pierce yan?)
>>"kaya pls lng wlang poporma at wag mgbalak manligaw dto!" (ui, dropping hints! style mo!)

Princess:
>>Affiliations: im friendly and everything:) (goodness... .)
>>im fund of music... (fund? ahh edi ibig sabihin mayaman ka? hehehe)
>>"i want to... build a Europian school here in the Philippines " (mayaman nga....)
>>Who I Want To Meet: "im open for all..." (7-11, Ministop?)

I know you want more...

expletives

I'm so fucking bored. Lately, I've observed I'm talking too fucking much. But what the hell, what the fuck is this blog for? Oh fuck it. Everything's fucked up.

Whew. I might just have to go buy myself some muriatic acid as mouthwash for those expletives. On a previous blog, I've reposted The F Word's history and applications. But you might be laughing at great heights once you've heard this audio clip with pretty much the same content with just a few add-ons.

http://www.devilducky.com/media/3736

Song in background: The Vagina Song by Weird Al Yankovic.

Oh geez. Father priest, how many Hail Mary's am I going to recite with rock salt on my knees?

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