My Starbucks Hitlist: Deconstructing the Starbucks Crowd [Holiday Edition]

Chestnuts roasting on an open fire…Jack frost nipping on your nose…
Although It's been said many times, many ways…
A very Merry Christmas to you.


There is something about Starbucks during Christmas that makes it more conducive for studying. Yes, I know how geekish of a statement that was. Nerd tendencies aside, though, I might not have grown fond of devoting so many hours for studying, but Starbucks in December makes the idea of studying more appealing to me.

The soft play of classic Christmas songs, the aroma of the Starbucks Christmas brews, and the cold breeze of December (or maybe just the AC) make up a good mix of lethargy and energy.

Unfortunately for me, there are other idiots who find the Christmas Starbucks appealing to them as well. Fact of the matter is, Starbucks actually fills out with MORE idiocy during the holidays than usual. You would think that the Starbucks crowd is homogenous throughout the year. For some reason, though, the usually annoying Starbucks parokyanos become extra annoying during Christmas time. It is as if the warm and fuzzy Christmas atmosphere is actually a breeding ground for nuisances.

As much as I would like to wallow in my Starbucks holiday zen, it would only take a seemingly enigmatic but annoying idiot to irk me and ruin everything for me. If in, say, March or August, it took me a few minutes to lose my cool upon seeing the Korean Mob or hearing an Enunciator, in December, it will take me half the time. Given that analogy, ladies and gentlemen, you don't have to be a genius to figure out that in December, however relaxing Starbucks actually is, I will be more irritable than usual. There may be less species of idiots than the rest of the year, but by god, are they quality idiots—definitely worthy of a bullet. Or two.

Presenting...

My Starbucks Hitlist (Deconstructing the Starbucks Crowd): Holiday Edition


Starbucks Holiday Nuisance #1 DOUBLE STICKER ABUSERS

Desperate times call for desperate measures. That is if by "desperate times" you mean a desperate need to get the Starbucks planner and if by "desperate measures" you mean staking out until a specific time just so you could get two stickers instead of only one.

Tell-tale signs (You know that one is just a double sticker abuser if:)

1. You see a person sitting at some table, without a cup of coffee in tow, seemingly waiting for someone
   
2. That person stakes out at that table for an extended period of time
   
3. Suddenly, as the clock hits a particular hour, the person stands up and heads for the counter
   
4. The person excitedly finishes his/her purchase of one choice Starbucks beverage and enthusiastically extends his/her promo card to the barista
   
5. The barista puts not one, but two promo stickers on the card.
   
6. The person makes out a smile that extends from ear to ear
   
7. [On some rare, but highly possible, occasion] the person, while waiting for his/her order and upon hearing another customer tell the barista that he/she is not collecting promo stickers therefore he/she will waive his/her rights to the stickers, musters enough kapal ng mukha to tell that other customer, "Okay lang, akin na lang ang stickers mo?"
   

I don't think Starbucks still has the promotional campaign this year, but the kind of people such a promo produced in 2007 deserves a spot in my hitlist.

In the minutes leading to the select hour, Starbucks was usually filled to the brim with eager beavers. Those who were obviously delaying their purchase until such time that they could finally avail of the double stickers promo. It would have reminded you of how French Baker looks like half an hour before closing, when all of their pastries are marked down to half off. Well, at least the guys over at French Baker are waiting for the bread. The Double Sticker Abusers, on the other hand, would kill their own young and are simply waiting for stickers, for a free planner. Wow, right?



Starbucks Holiday Nuisance #2 THE BRITISH GRADUATE ISKOLAR

It's funny when Madonna pretends to have a British accent. But if a fugly, social-climbing creature does it, it would call for violence rather than humor.

For this particular nuisance, I would rather dispense with the usual enumeration of the tell-tale signs. Let me just begin by giving you a visual to aid your imagination.

Save these images in your head, okay? Now imagine this idiot engaging in conversation with the baristas, as he was unaccompanied and had no one else to talk to. Imagine him holding extended monologues about himself and what he does. Imagine him and his trying-to-be-a-female voice causing all this verbal ruckus…wait for it…wait for it…in English. Not just in plain English, with a run-in-the-mill American or even call center agent accent. Imagine him talking in a cheap British accent. Imagine the baristas, upon hearing such a unique accent, ducking under the counter to make faces or just give out a laugh.

Freak:[in his British accent, translations in brackets] I'm finish-aing my MA the-suhs [thesis] in YUPEHEY [UP, as in University of the Philippines]

Xtin: [SOLID NOSEBLEED yet in thought] POCHAH. Seriously?

I was enjoying a zen-like state in Starbucks Trinoma when I inadvertently overheard this idiot talking in a British accent. I was wishing so badly I had not heard the cheap accent. It was so disturbing that got into a blackout of sorts. I wasn't absorbing anything I was reading. I wasn't even tasting the goodness and richness of my coffee. I was trying to fight my first instinct of hitting him at the back of his head. I even tried to discreetly record his voice, but to my dismay, my recorder failed me. I ended up just taking a picture of him. Nice outfit, by the way.

It is also worthy of noting that the British bastard had a UP 100 jacket. At a point in time, he was wearing it over his shoulders, like a shawl, in such a way that the front part of the jacket [which had a blaring UP 100 written across it] was exposed for everyone to see. To my mind, he had to do that. He had to wear his jacket that way to broadcast that he belonged to a reputable educational institution. Otherwise, no one would think that he was educated at all. Who would? By the way he was acting and talking, of course, no one would have mistaken him as an ivy leaguer. "Social climber" would have easily popped in their heads. At least, that was what popped in MY head.

British pala ah. Coño ka ba kamo? Talaga lang. Eat shit, my friend. Eat some fothermuckin' shit.


Starbucks Holiday Nuisance #3 HOLIDAY DOUCHEBAG

P're, question…Malamig? Usher isdatchu? Or is it Chris Brown?

Tell-tale signs (You know he's a holiday douchebag if:)

1. He walks into Starbucks in his winter get-up, with a swagger of a champion
   
2. We're not in the US therefore, there's no winter
   
3. The winter outfit is nonetheless justified by either the AC or the cool December breeze
   
4. You feel the sudden urge to strangle this guy with his makeshift scarf
   

Gahd. After a number of posts on it, this might sound so cliché, but I sure do hate douchebag fashion. What annoys me even more is the fact that the coldness of December gives them some sort of reason to wear their horrendous style choices. Look at him:

He looks so comfortable, leg rested on the armrest, hand placed on the hat, body tilted to forming a convenient pose and all. He seems unaware of the impropriety of his outfit.

The scarf sure looks good—good enough to be a noose, right?


There you go. This might be the shortest hitlist of them all, but the nuisance factor is truly on a higher notch during the holidays.

Now that those nuisances are past me, I can now proceed with sipping my hot drink, sitting comfortably in my seat, and studying in my lovely Starbucks corner. I'm putting on my earphones now and shutting the rest of the world out, lest another nuisance walks in and breaks all hell loose.

[See other Starbucks Hitlists here]

Oist, magsitahimik nga kayo! [Shut your pie hole!]

You know you’re a Filipino if…

...You tail an ambulance just to beat the traffic.
...Instead of "I beg your pardon?" you say "Ha?"
...You're always late.
...You ask people you have just met how many children they have and what their spouses do for a living.
...You stand out because you talk and act loudly and with exaggeration.

I opted to begin with quotes from “You Know You’re a Filipino If…” because this book puts in a plain and humorous manner those annoying Filipino habits which would otherwise be considered politically incorrect to mention out loud. The last one is admittedly my original, though.

Political incorrectness is that particular defense against those who choose to not go blindly when they see Pinoys acting in an, well, unorthodox manner. Most people, Pinoy and foreigners alike, do not easily get away with criticizing these quirky Pinoy habits. Take Malu Fernandez as an example. She made unprecedented comments about OFWs she was with during a flight she took on her way to Greece [and back]. In the article she wrote, she said:

However I forgot that the hub was in Dubai and the
majority of the OFWs (overseas Filipino workers) were stationed there. The
duty-free shop was overrun with Filipino workers selling cell phones and
perfume. Meanwhile, I wanted to slash my wrist at the thought of being trapped
in a plane with all of them.While I was on the plane (where the seats were so
small I had bruises on my legs), my only consolation was the entertainment on
the small flat screen in front of me. But it was busted, so I heaved a sigh,
popped my sleeping pills and dozed off to the sounds of gum chewing and endless
yelling of “HOY! Kumusta ka na? At taga sann ka? Domestic helper ka rin ba?”
Translation: “Hey there? Where are you from? Are you a domestic helper as well?”
I though I had died and God had sent me to my very own private hell.On my way
back, I had to bravely take the economy flight once more. This time I had
already resigned myself to being trapped like a sardine in a sardine can with
all these OFWs smelling of AXE and Charlie cologne while Jo Malone evaporated
into thin air.All in all, it’s been a pretty good summer. Jetting from the
Aegean Sea to the Pacific may sound a bit pretentious until you wake up in
economy class smelling like air freshener. [source]

In yet another article:

As all of you know I have just returned from a wonderful holiday in the
Mediterranean. To cut on some costs for this impromptu vacation I was forced to
fly economy class which I absolutely do not wish on my worst enemy. I was,
however, encouraged by my travel agent to try out Emirates since it won the best
economy class, so with great trepidation I flew on Emirates via Dubai,
completely forgetting that Dubai is the hub for all the Filipino migrant
workers. Call me whatever you like but when you are trapped in economy class
that is filled to the brim with migrant workers the smell gets a little funky
after nine hours of flying. [source]

It has been months since the article was emailed to me. The mood of that forwarded mail was contempt towards Ms. Fernandez. And it was indeed contempt that I felt. There truly was a glaring feeling as if she was singling out OFWs and that she hated them or at least being with them. However disturbing her article was, I could not help but ask if, even by some small possibility, could she have been just saying the truth? Something so condescending and politically incorrect, but the truth nonetheless??

Just last month, true enough, I think I began to see what Ms. Fernandez was incriminated for saying.

I was on my way to the KLCC airport to catch my flight to Bangkok. I took a shuttle bus from the city to the airport. I took the front most row in the bus and, since I saw that the bus was hardly half full, I comfortably occupied even the seat beside mine. A few moments before the driver closed the bus doors, two familiar faces boarded the bus. It was a man and a woman, maybe in their early 50s, who had skin color similar to mine. I knew that I didn’t have an idea in the world who the man and woman were, but they were nonetheless familiar.

“Buti na lang umabot tayo,” the man told the woman as they occupied the seats just behind mine.

“Ah,” I thought, “Pinoy pala.”

But the pleasant feeling of affinity only lasted up to that point.

The whole one hour and fifteen minute-trip to the airport, the two were talking, ever so loudly, to each other, as if they were the only ones on the bus. The bus was barely empty and none of the other passengers had the same unrefined attitude as the two which made their irritating and screeching talk and laughter resound all the more. Ang ingay, p’re, sobra! I had my earphones on, but the loud talk made its way to my eardrums, disallowing me a brief rest to alleviate a migraine I have been having the whole day that had just passed. I didn’t even pay attention to what silly things they were talking about. Every sound that they made didn’t come to me as comprehensible words so much as they sounded like loud buzzing and ringing.

“My god! Hindi ba sila nahihiya? Sila lang kaya ang maingay dito!” I thought angrily.

And since they irked me, quite a bit, the whole ride to the airport, I made it a point that before we parted ways, I would steal a shot of “BOY AND KRIS”, for posterity’s sake, of course:






*****

A couple of weeks ago, on the other hand, I went to Kota Kinabalu. My friends and I were quite amused at how even in the most remote areas of the island, there were Filipinos. We gladly listened to their stories of why they were working in Malaysia and how they got there. All of the instances, really without exception, when asked where they were from, they would answer “Sulu” or “Zamboanga”, and when asked why they left and migrated to Kota Kinabalu, they would give a reply “Umiiwas lang kami sa gulo [sa Mindanao].”

We understood perfectly where they were coming from. We didn’t pity them at all because of what had happened to them—to have been left no choice but to exile themselves to a land not their own. If anything, we were relieved. The kind of relief that even just a family or two have been freed from the danger of the war in Mindanao.

Safe to say, I developed a pleasant outlook on the Pinoys we met in KK during our stay. But it didn’t take long for some idiots to [almost] ruin that positive disposition.

There I was, walking along the shores of Manukan Island in KK’s Tunku Abdul Rahman Marine Park, when yours truly was confronted by familiar distasteful behavior.

Apple Bottom Jeans, boots with the fur [the fur], the whole club was looking at her…she hit the floor, next thing you know, Shawty got low, low, low, low, low, LOWWW…

I heard the de facto national anthem of the Philippines, Flo Rida’s “Low”, of course, blaring out from some cheap boom box somewhere along the beach. There was no doubt in my mind that I was a few steps away from a notorious pet peeve of mine—Pinoy Jologs.

True enough, a few meters from our table were a bunch of rowdy and NOTABLY NOISY individuals who were partying, dancing, and singing, in broad daylight, mind you, to MY wit’s end. At that point, I could only assume that they were Filipinos because I have yet to obtain any confirmation to that effect.

As if on cue, I walked past the group and two beer-bellied half-wits started singing some Tagalog love song. You know how that goes…at the very moment a girl passes by, these machismo Pinoy epitomes of tambays acknowledge her and pay tribute to her beauty by intentionally-but-unintentionally singing, in a patent lasenggo volume, some love song like “Ang halik mo, na-mi-miss ko…”

After the guys finish their short song number, the rest of the group screams and breaks into patent inuman ng mga tambay tuwing pista behavior. They didn’t know, of course, that I could understand, perfectly well, all their remarks and comments they were shouting at each other. A couple of those statements were about me.

I walked away from this mob, but as I was doing so, I took one more look and noticed that at least two girls, in their two-piece swimwear, those with culottes as bottoms, dancing atop their beach table, ala Julia Stiles in 10 Things I Hate About You. I looked around, but none of the other vacationers were engaged in such bakya pandemonium.

It also didn’t help that they were a not-so-attractive bunch. Matabungks outfits for the girls. Beer bellies for the guys. And of course, Tighty whities ala trunks for the most not-so-attractive of them all.

Nakakahiya, ‘di ba? What? Hindi ka nahihiya? Well, ako oo.

Well maybe the wisest thing for me to do at this point is to just desist, lest people out there would crucify me, as they did Malu Fernandez. I could say that I find similarities in my view and Ms. Fernandez’s. Noisy and unattractive people annoy us. We both turn this annoyance into criticism and sarcasm that form part of our humor. But a stark difference is that nowhere in this post will it seem like I am singling out a particular group of Filipinos. When I say Filipinos are infuriatingly noisy and seemingly lacking of discipline, I don’t mean OFWs, rich, poor, adults, kids, men, or women. I mean that we ALL have a tendency to display such behavior. It is not because we are actually undisciplined. Uneducated. Or unrefined. That is because we are not.

It is just how we Pinoys are. We can be irritatingly quirky sometimes, but we are pleasantly entertaining most of the time. Nakakahiya, oo. Pwede ding nakakairita. Pero madalas nakakatawa lang talaga.

[cue boisterous Pinoy laughter]

An Altercation

See that parking slot? It’s mine, not yours, dumbass.

Two nights ago, I came home at around 1am after attending a so-so concert, which, by the way, I should also be blog-ranting about.

Upon entering the compound, I took a quick look at my parking spot. You know how it is in residential complexes. Your unit gets assigned a parking slot and when other tenants see that your slot is constantly unoccupied, they’d simply park their other cars in your slot, to their heart’s content. This I learned not early on, but only just last summer when another tenant got into this irritating habit of parking his cars in my assigned slot. I never really did mind that he did so up until a friend told me that I should assert my right over the parking slot. After all, I paid for it and this asshole who keeps on using it did not. Nor is he paying me.

There had been a couple of times when I attempted to, yes, assert this so-called right. To my dismay, however, I have only come across the driver of this alleged asshole. At first, I was, er, pleasant to said driver. I told him, nicely if you must ask, that I have been inconvenienced by their use of my parking slot.

Of course that was just an exaggeration. This “inconvenience” that I speak of relates not to any time my car was deprived of its place in the universe, the universe being the compound. I don’t have a car nor do I have any recurring and regular visitors who do. So this “inconvenience” is solely based on the pro-bono use of that little parcel of concrete, without my consent.

Ayaw ko nang naiisahan. ‘Yun lang naman talaga ‘yun.

But apparently, my calm statements toward the driver didn’t ever make a difference. Since the first time I talked to him, there had been so many times I have caught one of their vehicles in my slot. I have never been able to comprehend why the asshole [the driver’s employer] can afford to have more than one car, but can only manage to secure himself just one parking slot. Come on, does he think that he will just freeload off the other tenants’ slots? Well, maybe. But there is no way in the freaking world will he be able to do that with this tenant.

That is why it became a habit of mine to always check this slot in-question out, whether or not there is an unauthorized occupant.

That night, as mentioned, another vehicle was there, yet again. This time, it was a pick-up truck. As if trying to spite me or something, the license plate even had “CONG 8” on it, as if I was about to believe that (1) it was an authentic government official protocol plate, (2) it was not just an ordinary commemorative plate of some medical institution the asshole simply had customized, and (3) he indeed was a solon. Pwede ba?

Me being the normal me, an away a day and all, I slowly got into my usual theatrics, although minding that it was already an unholy hour and many of my co-tenants were already asleep. I threw a discreet yet moving bitch fit upon calling the on-duty guard’s attention. I made it a point, though, to express anger on the asshole and not on the guard. The guard might think that I was getting mad at him. I, of course, didn’t want that as I wanted his support and assistance in the matter.

“Ma’am, sige po, pupuntahan ko na lang sila para tanungin kung pwede na alisin ng may-ari itong kotse nila,” suggested the guard, to which I agreed. I have never wanted to disturb anyone during their sleep, especially in that unholy hour, just so I could satisfy my whim-slash-bitch-fit. But enough was enough. My patience, if you could really call it that, could only go so far.

I readied my self for a full-blown mahadera/palengkera mode altercation. I was rehearsing insults in my head while I was waiting for the guard and the asshole to come down from the third floor, where the asshole’s unit was.

After a few minutes, the guard came down, alone, so I asked him, “O, nasaan na?”

“Bababa na daw po.”

True enough, a few seconds after, I see this creature in a tattered sando and jogging pants to match approaching the guard. I give him my patent hostile look, the one where I look at him from head to toe with a facial expression saying that, “So…’yan na ‘yun? Eew. No contest naman pala.”

The asshole saw me with this look on my face, yes, but he took one look at me and, just when I was about to jump to a verbal battle, he looked away and, instead, asked the guard, in an irritated-slash-inconvenienced manner, “Anong oras ba dumating ‘yang pick-up?” referring to the pick-up that was unlawfully parked in my slot.

Wow, ah. So are you trying to tell me that you had no idea that your friggin' pick up was parked in my slot? In short, it wasn't at all your fault that the location of your vehicle has inconvenienced another tenant? Maryosep. Pwede ba, hindi bagay sa pagmumukha mo ang pa-inosente. You reek of dishonesty and un-fairplay.

He walked towards the slot. He got in his pick-up. Just when he was about to move it out of the parking slot, I gave him one last look, but again, he looked away, but of course in a manner which TRIED, although pathetically, to tell me that he didn’t mind at all that he had inconvenienced me. He drove away and found another slot, not his yet again, to exploit.

“Okay ‘yun ah. Hindi man lang humingi ng paumanhin,” I commented to the guard.

“Gan’un po talaga ‘yun, ma’am. Mayabang po talaga. Kaaway din po namin ‘yan, eh.”

“Figures,” I thought.

I thanked the guard for his help, after which I finally went home and took a rest at 2am. I didn’t immediately doze off. Maybe because I was still irked by the asshole. I was thinking very intently how and why creatures like him have to be such jerks. Walking smugly with the attitude that they are above all laws, even those which are mere community regulations.

I haven’t felt that I have won this battle yet. At least I got him off my property, so to speak. Now I must hold caution because with people like that who think that they are “in power” [cue “CONG 8” congressman daw ‘o license plate] and having had an altercation with such a creature, trouble couldn’t be brewing too far from me.

*I’d actually mention his name here, but nah, I want to live a bit longer and to not have my new car, if ever get one, scratched or its tires slashed by an anonymous hater. I know that is just how these creatures operate. Their retaliation will expectedly be as cheap and irritating as buying second hand bed linen.

My Starbucks Hitlist: Deconstructing the Starbucks Crowd [Part 2]

Do you have your rifles ready? Okay, then. Let's see what other kinds of people we'd find and want to shoot in Starbucks.

# 6 BOOM BOX (BF, Katipunan, Rockwell, Trinoma)

Get some earphones, idiot.

Tell-tale signs (You know these idiots are in the house when:)

1. The normally relaxing music in Starbucks is suddenly overpowered by some other song, typically unbecoming for Starbucks
   
2. You look around to try and see where the sound is coming from and realize that it's coming from a stupid gadget
   
3. The gadget is spewing out music at a rude volume level, typically requiring of earphones
   
4. You stare at the idiot down who owns the gadget and see that he's enjoying the music and that he also might even start dancing or singing along to his heart's content.
   
5. You suddenly acquire a most unwelcome LSS (last song syndrome—Apple Bottom Jeans, boots with the fur [the fur], the whole club was looking at her…she hit the floor, next thing you know, Shawty got LOW LOW LOW LOW LOWWWW)
   

I like "LOW" as much as the next person, you know. But when I'm in Starbucks, I'd rather bask in the mellow ambience of the establishment. I do not pay P100+ for a cup of coffee just so I could listen to your rendition of some Cher hit. I do not go there just so I could witness a showcase of your new laptop and media playlist. I have my own, thank you very much. And, unlike you, I can afford earphones, dumbass.

I couldn't care less if you're into hip-hop, house, RnB, or pop. I won't give a crap if you're into Fi[f]ty Cent, Celine Dion, or Salbakuta. I won't mind, really. But that doesn't mean you could thrust upon me your poor taste in music. More so if it is coming from some cheap contraption of yours. Tutuktukan kita, eh.




The losers in the video, aside from being a one-cup-for-all-all-for-one-cup gang, came to Starbucks Rockwell with their little el cheapo MP3 player, blasting Ne-Yo's "With You" (replay the video and you'd notice that you could clearly hear the song playing from their table). Gahd, people, can you be more lame? If you want it so badly to look like gangsters, at least play true gangster music, not luvey-duvey love songs by cutsie RnB singers…I like the song, yeah, but it's people like these losers who turn the songs I love into cheap and jologs novelty songs.


#7 ENUNCIATORS (BF, Katipunan, 6750, Gateway)

I swear I don't want to eavesdrop, but the loud mouth in the next table is making life difficult for me.

Tell-tale signs (You know if these loud mouths have arrived when:)

1. There's a pair or group of people in the next table who are in deep discussion
   
2. One member of the pair or group is noticeably talking at the top of his/her voice, enunciating
   
3. You are thrown off your concentration
   
4. You suddenly feel that you've become part of the conversation going on in the next table
   

It's nice that people like to talk to their friends. What's not is that I'm not a friend, but I could still hear, LOUD and CLEAR, what the F the other table is talking about. Thanks to the resident loud mouth. Don't get me wrong, though. These enunciators have kept my stay at Starbucks very interesting. Not only do they impart little life lessons [sarcastic cough], they also are funny as hell. Hilarious. Ridiculous.

This is the Gamer-Enunciator and friend. I came across the two of them a couple of months ago. The guy in the striped shirt was waiting for the other guy and when the chubby guy arrived, all hell broke loose. The chubby guy, aka the Gamer-Enunciator, spent what felt like three hours discussing in full detail and complete passionate reenactments of his favorite computer game and game techniques. Pow. Bam. Kaplow. He was enunciating every little game advice he was giving to his friend that I felt that everyone else in Starbucks that day became a better gamer, even just a bit. Of course I had squat of an idea of what he was lecturing his friend on. I could not even quote a complete sentence from him because I had no idea what he was talking about except that I knew that it was a computer game. That is just why the whole thing became more unbearable for me. I wanted to go to their table, smash a bottle on his head, and say, "Shut up, geek!"


#8 WHERE'S THE PARTY?-PEOPLE (Katipunan, Valero)

I was not aware that Starbucks had a dress code. Party attire mandatory.

Tell-tale signs (There is no doubt that the party animal turned up when:)

1. You go to Starbucks in your most casual and comfortable, close to homey, get-up
   
2. A group of people enters, each member wearing some retarded outfit announcing to everyone that he/she has just gone from a major party, with one wearing an item of clothing in gold
   
3. The group moves around like they're on a catwalk of sorts, with one or two of them almost always on the verge of giving a killer pose and as if wanting to be watched in slow-motion
   
4. The whole establishment seems to stop in its tracks
   
5. You suddenly feel inadequate and underdressed
   

A huge pet peeve of mine is fashion victims. I don't like it when people dress up inappropriately, more so if they do and think that they could pull the stupid outfit off. I hate it when these retardates go about the earth as if every place they go to is one big event. News flash, genius: it might've taken you half a day to put that look together, but even long hours couldn't keep you from looking fugly. And, going to Starbucks in that joke you call an attire makes your punch line more hilarious.

#9 CAFFEINE-LOVING PARENTS & SUGAR-RUSHED KIDS (BF)

There's a reason why Jollibee has a play area and Starbucks does not.

Tell-tale signs (You know if the Goin' Bulilits from hell are in when you:)

1. Are having a peaceful coffee-break
   
2. See that an evidently married couple walks in with their adorable little girl or boy
   
3. Notice the kid/s enjoy all the chocolatey goodies they could get their hands on
   
4. See a couple of banshees jumping up and down the place
   
5. Suddenly realize that there no banshees, only the adorable kids who have escaped the supervision and authority of their parental units and have decided to run amuck

In the picture, I caught the kid making his KSP act just so his mom would look at him. After a few minutes, true enough, this same kid was running around the store and the mom couldn't care less of the havoc his unreasonably rambunctious kid was causing.

Kudos to family time. But if you know that you can hardly control your kids, don't bring them to an adult place like a coffee shop and have them run around like crazed gremlins, let alone feed them sweets and goodies that will induce a sugar rush. You know you're not bad parents, but it sure as hell makes it hard for everyone else to see you in the same light when your issues are being irritatingly noisy little brats. If you're not one who'd strap your kids on a leash, do us all a favor and not give them sugar.



That'll be it for now. Don't despair, though. I'm sure I'll be spending a lot more time in Starbucks and there'll be a whole lot more opportunities for people-watching and idiot-bashing. I might even see the people who have been part of the hitlist and give you unprecedented updates. Until then. I'm sure it won't take me a long while.

Part 1 of Starbucks Hitlist

An Open Letter for a Euro General's Homecoming

For the latest Philippine news stories and videos, visit GMANews.TV

I should have posted this the other day, but due to time constraints, mainly me rushing out of the office to go to school for a dreaded final exam, I wasn't able to.

Before I begin, you should know that I'm out of the country right now and, for obvious reasons, I may be more out-of-the-loop than usual. I haven't heard (nor have I looked it up) of any follow up news on Dela Paz. That's a bit better I guess, lest my vacation gets ruined by another corrupt policeman.

An Open Letter (to the extent and bounds of this openness, that I'm not quite certain) upon the arrival of Former PNP Controller Dela Paz...

Dear Sir,

Welcome back!

How was your trip?

Did you have fun? I think you did. With PhP 5.9 million you had lying around, I think you had all the resources to make the Interpol fun for you.

By the way, what was that convention for anyway? I didn't bother looking it up, Sir, as I am sure, so sure that I'm betting my life, that it was for a truly worthwhile purpose, though such purpose remains yet to be seen (or believed in). I guess no one should doubt the legitimacy of your trip and the contention chosen to attend it, them being a whole bunch of your kumpares in the force and, of course, their wives, your kumares. I'm sure it was purely coincidental that all of you, being the close friends that you all are, were chosen to attend that one-of-a-kind Russian convention.

Oh, what were you and Mr. Ermita saying regarding the purpose of the money you brought with you? You say the MEDIA were the ones confusing everyone, indiscriminately and recklessly using "contingent funds" and "advances" as if they are two different things when, as Ermita so gallantly and smugly pointed out, they are one and the same (an advance made for contingent funds)? Shet. Ang tatanga nga naman ng MEDIA. MEDIA ha? Shet. Of all people, sila pa ang nagkamali.

But you know, in things like this one, one could not help but think that there might be SOME truth in what the MEDIA are saying. Never mind that I have spent four freaking years (not counting another four years of finance education) auditing the contingent funds and advances of many different companies...Sir, baka nga naman magkaiba yun?

Ang labis ko lang namang ipinagtataka, General, although this is just a query, not at all am I incriminating you in any way whatsoever... Have you not retired already? From my crude knowledge of how the standard operating procedures on taking out advance goes, is not that before an employee retires or for some reason leaves a job/company, he/she must pay any outstanding advances to his name in order to be cleared for resignation? This is to ensure that all it is paid and to avoid people borrowing money and running away from their obligation to pay for them. Well, I MIGHT be wrong on this, Sir. Kung kayo nga eh, General pang itinuring, you bypassed that system. The PNP may have a MORE SOPHISTICATED expenditure cycle that a lowly auditor like me would never comprehend. Maybe retired generals are allowed to make advances from the PNP funds even after they are out of the service. Besides, you were the comptroller yourself. I'm sure it was not at all difficult for you to approve your own application for advances.

I heard you were planning to make a liquidation form of all your expenses while you and your ravishing cohorts were enjoying a contingent fund fit for a whole district of public schools. Good luck with that. Sir, tip from the wise. Collect all possible official receipts to support your liquidation form, okay? File them all properly so that everyone will believe you that the fund and your stay in Moscow were totally legit.

At this point, Sir, I want to wish you ALL THE LUCK IN THE WORLD. As in all. Pati na bad luck. Nakakasuka na kasing maging sarcastic eh. Sa mga pinakamababang uri ng taong kagaya mo, sarcasm would prove futile, as your stupidity would seem to bar you from getting its point.

So sir, advances for contingency fund ba 'kamo? Ha. Lokohin mo ang lelong mong panot. Gago.

Best regards,
xtin

Namedropping Should Be a Crime

It's final exam season once again. And, as expected, I have established a camp of sorts in Starbucks. I've been spending so much time there that I am typically overwhelmed with all the an-away-a-day material I come across.

This scenario is just one of them.

Background: A woman enters Starbucks carrying at least five boxes of what I think were pastries/yummy goodies from the Conti’s next-door.

The barista on duty sees the woman and the boxes she was carrying.

Barista: [impressed] Wow, ang dami naman po niyan.

Woman: Ah, ano ito eh [insert name of pastry], bigay ng owner [insert name of owner]

B: Ah, okay.

W: [smug] Friend ko siya, eh.

xtin: [in thought] WENONGAYON KUNG FRIEND MO? MAY NAGTATANONG BA?


Ugh. I despise namedroppers. They think they’re all that because they “know” certain people or that these certain “important” people know them. Eat shit. I don’t and I won’t give a rat’s ass if you once knew the Sultan of Brunei. Or if you once dated the neighbor of the cousin of the cook of the Sultan of Brunei.

Nor would I find it impressive that you got five boxes of goodies from your friend, the owner of the restaurant. To my mind, I can get the same five boxes by simply paying for it. The two of us will get the same stuff, in the end. I paid for them and you, on the other hand, freeloaded. What’s so special about that?

I guess it’s good that you know of someone “important” and have conveniently benefited from this relationship. Okay lang 'yun. But please, don’t walk around with a smug look on your face, thinking that you’re better than everyone else just because you have this potentially fictitious friendship with this certain important person.

Get this.

Dingdong Avanzado is my cousin.
Philip Salvador is my ninong.
Carmina Villaroel used to be my neighbor.
I went to the same high school as Kitchie Nadal.
I have had my picture taken with FVR and ERAP, on separate occasions.
I shook hands with Ramon Magsaysay Jr. during EDSA II.

No big effin deal?

Yes, it’s not a big deal. It’s not because it shouldn’t be.

If it’s not you who is “important”, what makes you think that knowing someone who is will make you any different?

Starbucks Hitlist [an update to part 1]

A couple of months have passed since the time I promised a second installment of my Starbucks Hitlist. I’ll be making good my nasty promise in a few weeks or so. Really. Need not worry. But before proceeding to it, I think it is only fitting to revisit Part One of my hitlist and give you some updates. I know you want it anyway, wehehe. Have your pistols ready, then.

KOREAN MOB slash ALL FOR ONE CUP, ONE CUP FOR ALL

These Kimchi Martians (pun intended, sorry) were very much on the freeloading prowl again. All these pictures were taken in a span of 6 hours in Starbucks BF (as expected). The air was filled with their back-of-the-throat murmurs and gibberish. There was excitement as if there was a birthday party of sorts. And, to my surprise, there indeed was. They occupied at least one-third of the tables and when this one girl entered the store, they broke into what I could only fathom as the Korean version of the birthday song.

NOTE THAT NOT ONE OF THEM, NI ISA MAN LANG, ORDERED ANYTHING FROM STARBUCKS. TABLES ARE TOTALLY EMPTY. COURTESY TOTALLY LACKING AT THIS POINT, EH?

The nerve of these people really. WALA na ngang mga order ang mga ito, nasikmura pang magkakanta at mag-celebrate ng birthday party? Wow ah.

Kill me, please, kill me.

ALL FOR ONE CUP, ONE CUP FOR ALL: PINOY (JOLOGS) VERSION

These Jay-z posse wannabes, douchebags really, were also caught freeloading. And you thought only foreigners have the nerve to do this shameless deed. Pinoys are precisely more notorious at it, mainly because most of us have the tendency to social climb and, at the same time, be parasitic. Take these idiots as examples. They were a group of at least five, I think, and only one of them bought a cup of Starbucks coffee just so they could be seen hanging out at the café. Honestly, they were misplaced in the area. For one, they wore these cheap-thus-hideous gangster get-ups. Two, they even had this little mp3 player that blasted what they thought was gangster music (this is a separate category in my second installment of this hitlist…coming very soon). Talk about JOLOGS. No wonder. Freeloading is simply their second nature.



CAMERA WHORES

Recall in my original post that I included pictures of camera whores who were not the STEREOTYPICAL camera whores, as indicated by the tell-tale signs (teeny boppers taking their own pictures, etc.)? Well, I’m very proud to say that I was graced with the presence of THE STEREOTYPICAL CAMERA WHORES… teeny boppers, bangs, Frappucinos, and all. Batteries not included, though.

Sighting happened in Starbucks Greenhills Theater Mall. Good thing these girls only took a few shots. Had they taken one more shot, I would’ve hung myself then and there.


THE BROKEN-HEARTED AND THE SHOULDER-TO-CRY-ON

When I came up with the first installment of my Starbucks Hitlist, in speaking of “the broken-hearted and the shoulder-to-cry-on”, what I had in mind was the image of two females, one distraught and broken, the other so eager to listen and supportive.

Upon a subsequent visit, though, to Starbucks BF, this particular hitlist category has somewhat evolved. Apparently, males also can fill in the shoes of the broken-hearted and the friend-in-time-of-need.

The two guys, to cut it short, were obviously gay. At first, I thought they were talking about some business venture or something. The problematic between the two of them was sitting nearer the window in a baby blue, starch-crisp polo. I say problematic because it was evident in his tone of voice. I could readily sense his infuriation and frustration by the way he squeaked at the end of his sentences.

I was listening in to their conversation not because I wanted to, but because, again, it was hard for me NOT to overhear them. And of course, it became a little more interesting. It was, I must say, a truly unbelievable conversation.

Background: The Broken-hearted Gay apparently had, just recently, broken it off from his boyfriend. This boyfriend of his was Chinese. His boyfriend’s mom supposedly found out about their relationship and, him being pure Filipino, was completely unreceptive and suspicious of him. And so he says…

Broken-hearted: Grabe, talaga ang mom niya. Noong nakita ako, sinabi daw n’un mom niya tignan daw ang butt ko, baka meron daw akong [insert unintelligible terms].

Shoulder-to-cry-on: Omaygad…

xtin: [thinks] Nakupo! Why in the world did I have to hear that? Why, lord? Why?

Unbelievable? Believe it. I’ve heard about airing dirty laundry in public. But his was literally filthy.

Dishing out these updates only confirms how on-target the tell-tale signs I’ve come up with in identifying these Starbucks dwellers are.

So…shooting spree, anyone? Oh, wait. Not just yet. Wait for the second installment of the hitlist, that way there will be better chances for us to actually bring someone down. Hehehe.

Artificial Intelligence

If I hear one more person giving some sermon on the US stock market bailout issue, I'm going to have to punch someone. Know-it-all idiots, if you ask me.

The events in the stock markets, here and abroad, the past couple of weeks have prompted much talk among everyone. The Wall Street meltdown that was instigated by the filing for Bankruptcy of Lehman Brothers, Inc. has been all over the papers, net and TV. Of course, just as any scandal would, news has made its way through the grapevine as well. Everyone is talking. The economists. The financial analysts. The stock brokers. The investors. The business people. The business-intelligent. And, of course, also the artificially-business-intelligent.

I say artificial because it is feigned.

This stock market controversy is chiefly the type of thing where people who thrive in "intellectual" conversations brandish their knowledge of the facts and what-nots. And I say thrive because these people simply use the opportunity to make themselves appear smart.

It could be a defense mechanism. It could also be part of one's inferiority complex. Whatever it is, one thing's for sure. I hate it. Ikaw? Intelligent? PWEH.

One problem though with artificial intelligence is it is hardly detectible, if at all. One can go about fooling everyone with feigned intelligence and do so successfully. All of us could pay our precious attention to someone making a Lehman Brothers controversy sermon and have ourselves effectively drawn to the seemingly highly-knowledgeable person talking in front of us. We may be impressed by the seeming authenticity of his competencies, all the while not knowing that all we have in front of us is bootlegged.

Is it not scary knowing that there is artificial intelligence and we might have been and could still be fooled by the idiots who make use of it? More than anything else, is it not insulting?

It is. And today is the day that I do something about it. I hate artificial intelligence and I refuse to be perpetually bound in its foolishness. Ihinto ang pagpapanggap. Tigilan na ang pagbabalatkayo.

How would you know if one is just feigning intelligence?

Here's how.

#1 In Writing – Check for Shift+F7 words

When you get an email or read a blog post, try to count the highfalutin words that appear in the composition. Take note also if there are Latin maxims. If the amount of the non-layman jargon seems too good to be true, it probably is.

I used to hate it when I encountered yearbook write-ups with words like penchant, façade, enigma, etc. I wanted to strike all of those overrated terms and dress the write-up down. "Masyado naman nag-enjoy sa Shift+F7 sa MS Word!" I thought.
It's not just freakishly uncommon gobbledygook. There were also idioms and proverbs. I even caught one using the very pedestrian idiom "Still waters run deep". "Still" you say, hija? STILL? If they are "still", then why are they running? Demnit. I could not bring myself to believe that these terms are used by teenagers in their everyday conversations. A write-up is supposed to be descriptive of the person. It should be candid and realistic, not a vocabulary-building exercise.

There was also this one email that I received from a client a month ago. It read…

xxxxxxxxxx.xxxxxx@xxxxxx.com wrote on 08/12/2008 02:56:04 PM:

> Hi Tin!
>
>

>Good day!
>Sorry for the late reply, just got back from the Finance's lunch
>out. I totally agree with you in the sense that the entries-in-
>question are in fact manually prepared...blah blah blah... But
>is the control really ineffective, ceteris paribus, and that only
>these "clearing account entries" are not reviewed and approved? Talk about practicality . blah blah blah

>Thanks a lot Tin and I'm still counting on your immediate response...

>Regards,
>xxxxx

I read the email and could not comprehend the purpose of using "ceteris paribus". Was it a ploy to intimidate me with foreign language maxims? Well, I was neither intimidated nor impressed. I was not going to be fooled. I knew pretty well that this guy would not have used this term had we corresponded personally. I was actually tempted to email back something like: genus nunquam perit res perit domino ratio legis est anima ut magis valeat quam pereat ora et labora ad maoriem dei gloriam. I wouldn't have had made sense, yes, but maybe I would've feigned an increase in a few IQ points.

#2 While speaking – See if it's scripted

If you're in a seminar or in a simple conversation, familiarize yourself with the person you are talking to. Notice how much time he spends in making unwarranted sermons on current events and issues, in highly technical English. Observe how he articulates himself. Listen intently then ask yourselves these questions:

Is he an actual authority on the topic he his rambling on about?

Do his expressions sound natural and effortless?
Do his statements make sense?
Barok ba siya?
Is English second-nature to him?

If "no" is the only response you have for your own questions, then honey, the person in front of you has artificial intelligence. It is not beyond comprehension that that idiot read a book on his topic of choice and memorized a few lines from it. Maybe, just maybe, he even threw in a few actions that would make him seem ultra confident.

You don't believe me? Here. Memorize this:

A derivative is a financial contract whose value depends on the performance of a foreign exchange rate, a commodity price, an interest rate, the price of another financial instrument or other financial variables.

Now, when asked of what a derivative is, retrieve the script from your brain. Then, while reciting your lines, make hand gestures as if you're making some important point with every other statement you utter. Ha. If you pull this off, do you not think you'll be a hoot?

I once had a trainer in an audit seminar. I heard endless monologues of technicalities (just like the definition of a derivative as stated above) and expressions like, "Well, I don't know for the life of me" and I kept on thinking, "Really? You use that expression? You—a man who can't articulate even a simple sentence in full English." Isn't that nice. Straight from the business book he just read, if you ask me. Or is it Dilbert? Either way, he seemed so lame and I was so pissed off. Hindi kasi bagay eh. It was so unnatural.

#3 As regards the subject matter – Make sure it's not just a product of 5 minutes in Google and Yahoo! Answers

When the guy starts blabbing on about Lehman and other business shit, don't be impressed just yet. Artificially intelligent people tend to superficially study the topic just so they could talk as if they know the entire thing. Ask really inquisitive questions. If they either get unreasonably ticked off or act as if you've asked the dumbest question ever or just fumble for answers before your eyes, aah…there's an idiot in your presence.

Buddha said:

Again, it may be understood by a person's conversation whether or not he is competent at discussing things. If, on being questioned, a person is evasive, changes the subject, displays anger, malice or sulkiness, then he is incompetent to discuss things. If a person does not do these things, then he is competent at discussion.

Yet again, it may be understood by a person's conversation whether or not he is capable of constructive discussion. If, on being asked a question a person loads scorn on and beats down the questioner, laughs at him and tries to catch him out when he falters, then he is incapable of discussing things. If a person does none of these, then he is capable.

Buddha certainly knew what he was talking about.

I really hate people, and trust me when I say I've met more than a handful of people like this, who frantically research on something just so the next day, they could pass off their overnight knowledge as stock knowledge.

Having immense knowledge of something is particularly impressive if acquiring such was effortless for you. Knowing that you're bragging of your knowledge about the NYSE and the US' largest bailout you just got from a 30-minute run in Yahoo! Answers is a DEAL BREAKER to me. Don't get me wrong though. There's nothing wrong with researching (or using Yahoo! Answers). Just don't act as if knowing such details is second nature to you. Don't act like the guru which you are most obviously not.

Funny thing is these creatures who feign intelligence, as Buddha said, get mad when they're asked questions. How could we blame them, really? They have squat of an idea what they got themselves into. It's but natural for them to act defensive and get mad.

See this post from the blog "Things We Love to Hate".

Argh. If you have no idea how to answer a question, just say so and if, by some miracle, you do admit not knowing, don't act as if it was a dumb question to begin with. Stop shitting us. Don't pretend like you actually know. You're making it difficult for us not to believe that you're making an ass of yourself. We know more about life in outer space than you know anything about Lehman. Yeah, you're that stupid.

Now that y'all know how to spot these fakers, let's all unite and take our time hating them. Let's have our pistols ready and fire at them for every bit of bullshit they utter.

For those of you who want to feign knowledge on Lehman, see Yahoo! Answers. If you do decide to brandish your artificial intelligence, better get out of my way. If I don't catch you off guard with my probing business and finance questions, I'd just stab you just because you're an ass, because I'm sure that, just like all the fakers out there, you'll look like an ass as well…crack, fuzz, [bull]shit, and all.

BAYANI FERNANDO FOR PRESIDENT MAY 2010

Yeah, right. Is that some seriously disturbed prank?

Oh shit. Are you freaking kidding me? No, effin way.

It has been months since the first time I saw his poster along EDSA. Some could say that a post about it is a bit obsolete. But, really, no one could deny the effect of that poster to many citizens out there. To this day, almost seven months after the first tarpaulin was put up, it remains an eyesore to most, especially to me.

It has been plastered everywhere. Well, at least on his pink-and-blue-coated structures that are, unfortunately, all over Metro Manila. Every freaking day, as I go to the office, I see that ugliness at least ten times in one morning. It is but logical for me to feel so irate in the morning taking that I involuntarily bask in this repulsiveness ten times too many. I have never been a morning person. This poster gives me one more reason to hate waking up in the morning. Or abhor going to the office altogether.

There have been rumors that these ugly posters have an ulterior motive, a political one, at that. And now that it is seemingly out in the open, this Bayani-Fernando-for-President shit…is just that—shit.

So, hey, BF [insert sarcasm], I want to tell you something:

I DON’T WANT YOU TO RUN FOR PRESIDENT. If you do, I would not waste my time to even read whatever crap you put in that platform of yours, let alone vote for you.

What you’ve done to the “development” of Metropolitan Manila is a JOKE. I think your candidacy will also be nothing more than that.


WHY PINK?



I can’t bring myself to understand why the city I grew up in and I have come to love is now infested with your fugly pink structures. Of all colors, sir, pink is the shade you so bravely chose. You say that it IS actually the international traffic standard to color similar structures pink. So wait, are there pink traffic posts in Malaysia? Pink urinals in Thailand? Pink pedestrian walks in Indonesia? What’s that? There are none? Hah, international standard my behind. With that kind of reasoning, sir, I’m constantly in fear that if you do get your chance to head up for Malacañang, you’d repaint it pink as well.


CONCRETE BARRIERS are causing casualties here and there. Instead of addressing the issue, of adding reflectorized warning signs or of phasing these hazards out completely, you, dear sir, again, reason out that it should be the motorists who should straighten up. That if it were not for these irresponsible motorists, not one vehicle would crash into your infamous concrete barriers, say the ones near Crame, night after night (after night).



Taxi crashes into Concrete Barrier
notice that in the accident, the barriers, contrary to the statement of the good MMDA chief, were not properly made visible with reflectors and lights.

See statistics of accidents involving MMDA Concrete Barriers



So, BF, are you saying that these motorists brought it upon themselves? That all those accidents were caused by the motorist throwing himself in YOUR GOOD OFFICE’s concrete barriers? I don’t think so.


YOUR URINALS STINK. And frankly, it won’t surprise me if you do, too. I don’t know what came to your mind in putting those eyesores all around the metro. Not only eyesores, man, because they freaking reek! Shet. Ang baho. Promise. I guess you had the best of intentions, but, come on. One, they’re pink. And two, guys piss in it and the piss has nowhere to go! The piss spills over to the sidewalk most of the time. Eeeeew. My god, what kind of health principles did you learn in school?




the picture's a bit unclear, but I think you could see the piss here flowing onto the sidewalk.


YOUR BAD BOY-LOOK POSTER MAKES ME WANT TO BARF. Okay, so let’s see that again.




Watch TV report on BF's Poster
Metro GWAPO? Ah, yes. Talk about IRONY. Nakakasuka. To be honest, sir, in the beginning of your, I don’t know, CAREER[?], I must admit that I did like you. You had all these projects in all sorts of places, but never did I see your face plastered on any of them, salivating to be recognized by the people. I guess I preempted you, sir. Because, as I’ve said, when you put up your posters, you sent shivers up my spine. Kadiri, eh.

GOOD LUCK WITH YOUR SINGING CAREER. Wow. I heard that you are one of the aspiring celebrity contestants in GMA NETWORK’s Celebrity Duets. I think your 2010 candidacy preparations are going a little overboard. Bordering pathetic, even. Good job in making your image one step more similar to that of Lito Lapid, Ramon Revilla, Bong Revilla, and ERAP. I’ve had enough of entertainers-turned-politicians. What makes you think I’d feel differently with politicians-turned-entertainers?

Watch BF's duet with Renz Verano in an episode of Celebrity Duets

See why BF joined contest

DO THESE JOKES OF YOURS FORM PART OF YOUR CONCEPT OF DEVELOPMENT?

If it does, then, yes. You are a joke as well. This country has had its fair share of humor. Actually, I think it has had enough. Take my advice and don’t run for president. Better reflect first. So, when you decide to take a leak in one of your magnificent pink urinals, aim for bull’s-eye, gaze up the open sky, TAKE A DEEP BREATH, don't break into song, and start serious introspection. Please.

For a Change

The Buddha once said,

Those who quarrel do not realize
That one day we must all die
Those who do realize this
Find little to quarrel about

I feel affiliation to this particular saying not because I adhere to it, but because I seemingly am the total opposite, especially here.

I make it just like a clingy, high-maintenance girlfriend. I blog just to rant and complain.

But now, there is one reason not to. This is a RAVE for a change.

Presenting my vote for the 2008 Philippine Blog Awards Bloggers’ Choice Award:

An excerpt of my favorite post entitled Who would’ve thought?:

Because my brother’s my brother, and he’s sweet like that, he introduced his girlfriend to me today. He’s always made it a point to introduce his girlfriend to me, and he’s had two. [Some have all the luck. Haha.]

After two minutes of small talk, I had to leave for a friend emergency, and I asked him [through SMS] if they were going to be alright. He replied with:

“Okay lang kami. Love u. Ingat ka.” [emphasis supplied]

How SWEET is that?

Haha. I guess it’s because I was nice to his girlfriend. Haha. Not that I’m usually not. :)

I like it because, one, it’s honest and endearing and, two, on a personal note, I would not have been as nice if I were her. It’s just refreshing to know that there is much niceness out there to cancel someone like me out. (I’m a bitch and I’m sweet like that. Hahahaha!)

I also love how Myuzeeshun uses words and phrases like:

Srsly?

Luma-laughtrip lang.

WHAPAK!

And many of her funny posts like Well, ain’t that sad - dated May 22, 2008.

It’s so candid and witty. Well-written. The layout of the page is easy on the eyes, too. It’s all of that and I so love it. Seriously.

Give just curious a click, why don’t you? You’ll get what I’ve been saying.

If you must vote, cast it for just curious, howkee?

You might ask, “Eh sino ka ba para utusan akong bumoto?” [or if coño ka “Eh, who the crap are you to tell me to freaking make boto?”]

And I just MIGHT say, “Ako? Sino ako? WALA LANG. Feel ko lang, bakit? Eh sa gusto lang naman kitang magkaroon ng chance manalo ng Nokia N82, eh! Concerned lang ako for you. Tsaka…boboto ka na rin lang might as well cast it for a blog that deserves it…”

‘Yun naman.

It just occurred to me that I’m ENJOYING raving. Quite a bit. But something tells me this streak of good karma points might end soon. I’m feeling a bit out of my element here. I should get back to the outskirts of the middle path. Hehehe.

Douchebags in Shemaghs

I watched this feature in Kapuso Mo, Jessica Soho last week. I was a bit surprised to see that the segment was devoted solely to feature a fashion trend that’s currently sweeping the nation. And by “sweeping”, I mean it like its literal but secretly hope that it is not true.

But it is and I don’t like it. As expected.

The feature was on shemaghs. Shemaghs (or keffiyeh) have been the must-have accessories here in Manila. They are, most of the time, the checkered scarves you typically see on teenagers, mostly college students, hanging around their necks like it’s an elaborate necklace of sorts.

Shiver. The mere mention of people who wear shemaghs makes me cringe.

Don’t get me wrong, though. I’ve seen these shemaghs on other people before. I’ve seen it on Yasser Arafat. I’ve seen it on Osama Bin Laden. I’ve seen on different field reporters making a live broadcast from Iraq and Mindanao as well. I must admit that the fact that these personalities sported these shemaghs did not at all bother me. Well, that was true up until it became a senseless fad and started to catch on with herds of brainless fashion-victimized sheep.

I do have three reasons why I don’t like shemaghs.

ONE. Mainit dito sa Pilipinas. What do you need a shemagh for? Porma? Style? Aba’y p*cha naman. Kahit tumatagaktak na ang pawis mo, basta pormado ka, okay lang? Again, p*cha naman.

*side note: Notice this guy’s physique. Come on, now. I mean, he doesn’t need a shemagh to keep himself warm, right? His own body is going to do wonders already.

TWO. I’m going to bet my life that not half of those idiots who sport shemaghs actually know what a shemagh stands for. It’s cultural people. It means something, I tell you. I suggest you find out about it before deciding to go out with a shemagh on. I even stumbled upon an article and a blog saying that there have been Muslims who have expressed their discontent in the keffiyeh becoming a trend. It’s like having dreadlocks without knowing that it’s a spiritual statement rather than a fashion choice. It’s like getting a bindi on and missing the little known fact that it marks fertility rather than forms part of your make-up. It’s like wearing a Che Guevara shirt and being totally oblivious of who Che Guevara is.

*side note: Notice what these under-aged girls are purchasing. Correct me if I’m wrong, but I think that those are a bubble gum lambanog, two Tanduay Rhum lapads, and a gin or vodka bottle. Getting wasted much? Ugh. It’s so juvenile, I wan’t to stab a pencil into my eye.

THREE. Ayaw ko lang talaga. Ang EPAL ng itsura, eh. Wala lang. I just don’t feel like appreciating it on a Pinoy juvenile. I see them and I just think, “Pwede ba? Tigilan niyo nga ako! Douchebag ka, p’re, douchebag!”

*side note: Green shirt. Green “shades” (they’re on his head, btw). A shemagh to boot. Does this not look epal to your or what?

*side note: Notice the bangketa bracelet here. I really don’t get it. A checkered shemagh on a striped shirt? I thought you people are trying look good with your porma?

Ugh. Douchebag fashion is just racking up nowadays, don’t you think? I’m so right, I want to smack the shit out of me. Well, you shemagh-lovers out there would want that, wouldn’t you?

I guess it’s going to be okay with me if you decide to shemagh-ize yourself. But please make sure that: (1) you’re in the desert or in some harsh winter conditions, (2) you know what it stands for, and (3) you’ll carry it well.

I’m sure it’s going to be an easy task for you to ignore my three tips. So, I guess I’ll just see you around. Let’s just hope and pray that I’m in some stable state when I see you lest I strangle you with that damn shemagh you have on.