9 QUESTIONS TO 2009: WHY I NOTICE EVERYTHING [an away a day year-ender special]

"2008 will rock," a friend once said.

And indeed, it did. At least for this blog and for whatever purpose it wanted to serve. I have had so much fun putting together things and stories, all for our amusement. From gigster caps to shemaghs, douchebags to ang pinakamababang uri ng tao, from Starbucks Katipunan to KLCC Airport…and to cyberspace. True enough, this blog has somewhat served its purpose—I have vented out excess angst and laughed heartily along the way. Knowing that my persona has been unburdened by several angry and sarcastic posts, makes my 2008 rock harder.

Here's to a year of pintasera moments.
Here's to another year of bitch fits.
And here's to me, because…

I NOTICE EVERYTHING.

Yes, I do. I may even surprise you, as I have the select few that have recently met me and have witnessed my "gift". They note, "Napapansin mo lahat, noh?" to which I candidly respond with a giggle and an "I know, right?" I am remarkably attentive to even the most mundane things that would easily go unnoticed by a normal person.

So…does that imply that I'm ABnormal? Maybe. But that's a totally different post right there.

Whether or not I am a child of normalcy is not the issue. What is, though, are certain questions, answers to which will explain why I tend to notice everything.



Question #1
Why is it that when I'm in class and the professor shoots a question at me, I will most likely miss out on the answer?

Answer
I have been distracted by a classmate's fishnet stockings and a sudden song stuck in my head (I made it through the wilderness, somehow I made it through, I didn't know how lost I was until I found you)



Question #2
Why is it that when a friend is telling me some story, that is, as most stories tend to, taking too long to finish, it is not far of a possibility that I will zone out and stare into space?

Answer
I am taking notice of something else, say, the cute guy whose view is conveniently located behind my friend's head.



Question #3
Why is it that when I'm walking down the street, even when I seem to be busy "not looking", I am looking?

Answer
I am actually analyzing the science of your wearing a horrendous pair of boots.

Question #4
Why is it that when I'm in my ride to the office, rather than getting on with a nap, I'd look out the window? Or when I'm eating in a good restaurant, rather than getting on with my meal, I'd stop chewing food and stare at you just to mock you?

Answer
You are wearing a stupid scarf, the cultural meaning of which you have half an idea of.

Inevitably, I will go, "Pre, bakit? Malamig ba? Feeling mo ba may winter dito sa Pilipinas?"



Question #5
Why is it that when I'm boarding the plane, instead of just getting to my seat, I take my time looking at you?

Answers

1. I am caught off guard by your hideous Indiana Jones hat and the bald white guy you are with (which makes me ask the question, "What kind of BUSINESS is this girl into?")

2. I am utterly irked by your wearing a gigster cap

Question #6

Why is it that while in the airport, I might be on my way to the carousel to get my bag, but I will be stalled on my way by the sight of you?

Answers

1. You are wearing a blanket as a cape? (Superman, isdatchu?)
2. Your girlfriend thinks that cowboy hats have made its way back to the fashion mainstream

Question #7
Why is it that while hearing mass, I might look like I'm in deep reflection, but really, I'm reflecting on something miles away from spiritual enlightenment?

Answer
You're wearing a pair of sandals which is so typically jologs.

Question #8
Why is it that while in the mall, rather than busying myself with the ongoing sale, I'm more interested in looking around and staring at you?

Answers

1. You are an idiot whose outfit was inspired by a watermelon
2. The girl next to you has a ridiculous fashion ensemble

Question #9
Why is it that even while I surf the net, instead of keeping to news and current affairs sites, I am more interested in googling random things for a chance to INADVERTENTLY stumble upon your Friendster account?

Answers

1. Your barkada picture gives me sheer joy. It makes me want to listen to the Tagalog version of Low. Or the Tagalog version of Umbrella. Or just any Salbakuta song.
   

2. I love it that you are friends with celebrities.

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

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.

The Most Unique Kind of B.O. [and other things that went (horribly) wrong during my trip to Legaspi]

DAY 1

In keeping with the tradition of Filipino time. Our flight to Legaspi was delayed for two hours. Many thanks to the newly opened NAIA Terminal 3 and the ever-efficient personnel who work there. Apparently, according to the pilot, the delay was due to the congestion in that aesthetically-wonderful, but poorly-performing airport. A lot of flights were delayed that morning, and since the airport (or its personnel) are still not used to handling such kind of traffic, the delay rolled to the rest of the afternoon: classic ripple effect.

Welcome to Legaspi. When we got there, we went around a bit to see which hotel we could stay at. We were not looking, mind you, for accommodations close to spectacular, because my companions and I were simply the type who just needs a bed to sleep on, just a clean one, though. We found ourselves at the reception of what its management had decided to call it The Sampaguita Ho[spi]tel, insertion supplied; pun intended. The five of us were really a bit lost on what kind of room to get to fit us all in so, like any other curious customer would, we asked the receptionist. Oh, wait, the receptionists. Plural, friends, plural, as there were at least three girls at the counter. But three heads will not always be better than one. As it turned out, the grandiose Sampaguita Ho[spi]tel had unknowingly employed the three stupidest and worst receptionists in the whole of Bicol Region. It's not as if our questions were derived from some MENSA questionnaire: Pwede ba ang mag-add ng extra bed sa isang standard room? Magkano ang extra bed? Meron pa bang family room? They gave us no answers. Only the stupid look on their faces—the kind you would want badly to slap back and forth. Yeah, they were hellish, but hey, the five of us were not about to wander around homeless for the next two days. We checked in anyway.

Pictures courtesy of virtualtourist.com (Above) The facade of hotel Sampaguita, reminiscent of Medical Center Paranaque (Left) The room rates the receptionists were not able to explain to us...

receptionist: Ma'am bawal po ang extra bed...

xtin: eh bakit kayo may rates for extra beds? ABER???

DAY 2
Being in Legaspi and not seeing Mayon. I was looking forward to seeing the world-famous "perfect cone" volcano. The one that I often saw just in my HEKASI books. Alas, the skies were not about to pave its way to satisfy my whim. It was cloudy and raining hard, even, so the most that we saw of Mayon Volcano was its base. The rest of the view was gray and gloomy.

Collar-ups in Sampaguita Hotel. Nothing to say here. A picture's worth a thousand words.

DAY 3

Going back home and still keeping with the tradition of Filipino Time. Our flight back was delayed as well. For 3 whole hours, this time. The thing still to blame was the newly opened terminal 3 and the congestions. Same old, same old. The passengers were agitated. And so were we…

The most unique kind of B.O. As if the delay was not enough, we still had to be intoxicated with some foreign smell (foreign being the operative word, as you may later find out why). SHET. ANG BAHO. SERIOUSLY. The only way to describe the foul smell is with this…have you ever had that drawer in your fridge where your mom puts all the vegetables in…the CRISPER? When you open the CRISPER, it's a mix of smells…of all the vegetables, both fresh and rotting…of bell pepper, lettuce, onion, carrots…are you getting the idea? Basta…that was the type of smell we had to contend with. It was B.O. obviously and all we had to do was to find out who was stinking the whole terminal up. And not too long after…we did find the culprit… (see guy standing up, in black shirt)

We're not even sure if it was just this guy or the rest of his group.

One thing's for sure, if it was not ALL of them, it was indeed ONE of them. Based on observation, these people came all the way from CWC and apparently, since they had to catch their flight, they did not have time to take a bath. They went straight from wakeboarding to boarding the damn plane. ANG BAHO PROMISE. Actually, we were originally seated in the third row, but since we could not stand the smell of the group behind us, we had to transfer to the first row. It was not just us. The smell was not a figment of our imagination. One other group who was staying at the last row, behind the MABAHO group, also transferred to the row behind us, just so they could breathe some fresh, uncontaminated air. It was THAT bad. SERIOUSLY.

Gigster caps, Koreans, and other Douchebags in Terminal 3. I don't think I would have to describe in detail these half-wits. Just look at the pictures.

Tama ba namang kasing mag-boxers sa airport eh, noh???

Quintessential Pinoy Douche: Total HipHop Getup

Sando. Zebra prints. Korean. Nice.

Gigster cap. So anong tinatawa-tawa mo diyan???

Ahhh…so many things went wrong those three days. The only good thing that came out of that streak of horrible occurences is this blog entry. This is pretty much it. All I could wish for now is for none of you to smell the CRISPER ever again.

Usher and Chris Brown in CamSur (and other paparazzied finds in CamSur)

Now that the busy season at work is over, not a single moment is going to be wasted. I am now joyfully in my summer vacation mode, complete with daydreams of the beach, ultimately triggered by reminiscent odours of my sunblock lotion.

And for my first trip this summer, several friends and I went to CamSur last week. I was having fun with the wakeboarding and the hiking (or whatever it is you call following a predetermined and paved mountain trail--just have to keep it real...I don't want to sound as if I'm one heck of a seasoned mountaineer...because a mountaineer I am NOT, which is quite obvious with my "hiking" attire)...

...but no amount of enjoyment will rid me of my paparazzi roots. But before I proceed with sharing my precious CamSur finds, I want you to familiarize yourself with these photos. I would like to ask you to pay particular attention to the hats the guys in these pictures are wearing.


The guy in the first picture and the guy on the right in the other picture are both wearing what has been called a flat cap(/hat). This type of hat mostly reminds of the two celebrities whose pictures appear above: Chris Brown and Usher. I am a fan of these two artists, so just imagine how delighted I was when i saw them in CamSur...or at least when I thought I saw them.

So yeah, there I was, enjoying the delicious snack I was having at around 4:30PM at the the CWC (CamSur WaterSports Center) resto, when a vision, albeit almost a vague silhouette, of who I thought was either Usher or Chris Brown, came to my all too scrutinizing view...it must have been the cap...I don't know...

When the ray of sun was finally blocked from my direct line of sight, I stopped squinting and realized that this Chris Brown-wannabe was simply yet another Pinoy douchebag. I've already mentioned that douchebag membership has gone haywire, so I should have seen it coming.

My friends and I (especially myself, of course) could not stop laughing upon the discovery of this splendid find. All this with us intentionally ignorant of the fact that the douchebag in-question was, in fact, less than 5 meters away from our table.

Humorous because of 3 things:

1. this guy must have thought that (a) he was an upper-class English man [see wikipedia http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Flat_cap] or (b) he was some kind of Chris Brown or Usher about to attend the Grammy's or (c) he was in the English countryside, that he could pull a flat cap off


2. i never, EVER, thought that despite this season's ridiculous summer heat, someone would even start to contemplate wearing an arm-warmer as a mere accessory
   
3. we were in CamSur. Not in some joke of a party. Which fact doubles the idiotic factor that was his outfit.

If you are thinking that "flat cap/arm sock guy" was my only CamSur find, you should be ashamed of yourself. You should never underestimate my overdedication to other people's business. I have more.

Not only did I see a specie of the Pinoy douchebag, that came in the form of the "flat cap/arm sock guy", I also had a sighting of another douchebag, brandishing her oh so fashionable cap, ala gigster...

...an appearance of a super cool circle of douchebags, complete with color coordination. I think they all look good in pink, don't you? Jeans, man...do wear jeans in a place like CWC... And the chestnut brown hair, ugh...to die for...

...not to forget the circle's ring leader...with matching white sneakers and ultra hip bangketa/baller id bracelet...and of course the metallic belt to boot and fatigue cargo shorts...all these, again, in a place like CWC...

And...to cap this blog's CamSur edition, I now present you "tan guy":

Beautiful...golden brown tan in the shape of a tank top...expensive bling...super defined abs (or ab)...what more could you ask for?

Ahhhh, CamSur. What a trip. What a trip, indeed.

They say douchebag. I say pathological loser and poser.

...Slash Gigster...
...Slash idiots-who-wear-what-they-see-other-people-are-wearing-and-think-it-looks-good...
...Slash FG/FB (Feeling Guwapo/Feeling Beautiful).

I could go on and on. Or I could simply take a slash at my wrist to end my life right now because these people are so freaking...ugh. I could consider them the cornerstone of this blog.

Because, really, the only thing worse than that white douchebag in the picture, who ,in essence, just like all the other crack*r douchebags, is just pretending to be a cool black guy, is a pinoy douchebag, who, in turn, is just imitating a white douchebag, completely unknowing of the bigger shit he has allowed himself to become. And that, the pinoy douchebag, is one of my biggest pet peeves, if not the biggest.

You could just imagine how I am when I go to the mall or just anywhere. I am pissed, most of the time, because pinoy douchebag membership has gone haywire. Their chapters are everywhere. Shit. Like when I want to grab an Original Glazed doughnut from the 4th floor of Trinoma. My day is inevitably ruined as I stumble upon a number of kids who are in the stereotypical douchebag get-up.

Let's have a recap of the anatomy of what they call a douchebag and how I call such a, erm, look:

1. They say, “Hat tipped at perfect angle”, I say, “Gigster cap”.
   
   It’s how rappers have done it for the past few years and a flock of their following has decided to sport the same style…without understanding why the cap is tipped that way. It has a meaning and a purpose, I promise, but they’d rather go for the look alone rather than expounding on what it stands for. You know these people. Those who have their dreadlocks done without finding out that it’s really a religious practice rather than a stupid ‘do. Those who wear Che Guevara shirts, but don’t even know who Che Guevara is. Asar right? You'll see these caps on people, who, most of the time, appear on Sunday noontime shows like SOP Gigsters.
   
   On most people, it just looks so…amusing. Case in point:


Even I was once imprisoned in a douchebag state of mind:





2. They say, “Popped collar”, I say, “Collar-up”.
   
   This term I first heard from Mo Twister. I’m quite sure you’ve seen at least a bunch of these beings who wear collar-ups. You know, when you’re walking around some place like the Power Plant, you suddenly come across a guy who’s so generic? Collar-ups, waxed-up ‘do, and all? You could imagine him using “bora” and “dude” in most of his idiotic sentences? Yep, them.
   
   In my case, I’ve seen most of them in Starbucks, as usual. Sipping their Americanos, looking all, well, fresh…case in point:
   
   One I’ve seen in TriNoma, no shock there…





3. They say, “Extra small shirt”, I say, “Show-us-your-pecks shirt”.
   
   These so-called clothing, albeit a size too little, is a testament to everything that is loser-y (douchebag-ish). You must realize that losers know, deep in their heart of hearts, that they are losers. But of course, they’ll never admit to it. They’d rather operate on all their defense mechanisms: the tough, gym-built bod, signature wardrobe, bad-ass wheels, etc. All these simply to hide what they fear of revealing: their true identities. So these little shirts just show that they spent hours in the gym because they want to tell us that they’re cool, bitchin’, hot (tssss…)…
   
   As for me, the bigger the bod, the smaller the shirt, the more asinine the loser you really are. I haven’t papparazzied an exhibit of this type of douchebag yet, so I’ll update you later.
   
   
4. They say, “Stupid-ass grin”, I say, “Lebron? Isdatchu??”
   
   Chin up and give it your most maangas look. It’s really a gangsta look that often reminds me of Lebron James, because of his Nike ad. I guess if a real gangsta strikes that pose, it’s kind of cool, I guess. But if some ghetto ass does it, well…see for yourself. Case in point…




5. They say, “Chinese lettering tattoo”, I say, “It’s probably just henna gotten from a cheap Puerto Galera outing”.
   
   Trust me, it’s not the real thing. 90% of the time, it’s just henna from Galera. But if the dumb-ass is really desperate and zero financing for his tattoo desperation, better think that it’s shoe polish. Black-ink permanent marker, even.
   
   Again, these losers think they look tough with these tattoos? Well, you’re not fooling me. I know for a fact that you have half an idea what that Chinese character really means. Dumb-ass. It’s like those ghetto pinoy gangs…they name themselves after the “Chinese Mafia”, but vandalize the walls with their signature graffiti “Chinese MAPIA”. Shit. I’ve seen it once in Don Galo. Maybe I should have a trip back to that area so that I could paparazzi that stupid graffiti. Yep, I’m going to do that one of these days.



6. They say, “Livestrong band”, I say, “Bad-ass bangketa bracelet”.
   
   If I were Lance Armstrong, knowing that I started this Livestrong band trend for a really admirable cause, then seeing people like Billy Ang Batang Baller (cue Mike Villar’s Atrocities of Friendster), who sport the band as if it’s a, I don’t know, a mark that they’re tough and shit, I would feel so depressed. I guess every pinoy gangster wannabe has it because it’s the only accessory they could afford (3 for 10 pesos?), well apart from their bangketa bling, the stunning sterling silver pieces the manong tindero vows is impeccably silver, with matching "dip it in vinegar" demo. Shit.

There you have it. That’s just a run down of everything loser-y. I’m hoping I’d have future entries that will specifically deal with each characteristic in greater detail.

Shit. I just realized that I’ve finished this entry and I feel so irritated for some reason. I hate losers. Posers!