Sina Kapitan Putok, Boy Bakat at ang Pink Boxers with Turtle Prints [pictures by the Global Paparazzi]

It has been a little over a week since I got home from a two-week backpacking trip across four Southeast Asian cities.

Scorching hot summer sun.
Occasional rain showers.
Culture.
History.
Heritage.
Fun.

All that pero, opcors, may okrayang ding naganap.

I would like to introduce to you a few, very UNIQUE individuals I met along the way.

DESTINATION: HANOI, VIETNAM

Exposed in the Park

Ay, si koyah, kita brip.

Kapitan Putok

He was as any junk captain would be, I suppose. But the odor was to die for as in nakamamatay. We were meters away, but we could still smell IT. Salt water breeze and underarm emissions sooo don't go together.

DESTINATION: BANGKOK, THAILAND

Man of My Dreams

Not! I caught this hunk of a man in the middle of his photo op at the Grand Palace in Bangkok. Apparently, it wasn't fulfilling enough to just stand and smile for the camera. He had to, one, wear his oh so fashionable belt bag and, two, role his sleeve up and pose with his badass bicep tattoo showing. What was even funnier was when he wasn't satisfied with his first shot, he asked his friend to retake it! Our hunk here sure knows how to compose a shot, doesn't he? What a douche!

DESTINATION: HALONG BAY, VIETNAM

A not-so-ordinary day at the beach

Beach Volleyball

There are a couple of unusual things in this picture. One, the girl in the bikini has a tattoo which, to me, looks like her butt crack. Two, the guy in the middle's concept of beach-volleyball-appropriate get-up is appalling. Belt? White cotton pants rolled up to appear as if they were shorts? Can anybody be more hilarious?

Pong Pagong had his hand in this.

That day, I knew there was something wrong with the beach. It wasn't because of the lack of colorful marine life nor the murky waters, although they were surely part of the general atrocity. Mainly, that day on the beach was off because we kept on seeing men in truly unusual outfits. Pink boxers with turtle prints? Really? At may shawl ka pa ha...iba na yan...

And in the tradition of men in truly unusual beach outfits...

Boy Bakat's Father

Did I not already tell you that we didn't have a good day at the beach? Seriously...with so little fabric, how could any sane man think he could fit everything in there? What's that in his waist? His camera's lens cap? It's one thing to sport nuthuggers. It's another thing when you use them to store camera accessories. Blech.

And now...meet BOY BAKAT himself...

I felt the need to somehow conceal his identity. But of course, without depriving you with shots showcasing his...erm...abs? Hehe. I think he realized his booboo and got embarassed at some point. Who could have blamed him really? We were laughing at this guy so hard, not discreetly, mind you, that he immediately got out of the water and made his way to the showers. Sino naman kasi ang may sabi na mag-brip ka sa beach, ha? Kadiri lang. You are, indeed, your father's son.

It might be a while until my next trip. Something tells me that from now on, I will be forever be wary of heading for the beach. After what I've seen, I think I might need psychological treatment.

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!

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]

People vs. A Couple of Heartless, Know-nothing, Scumbags of Society (A Case of the Day When I Was Robbed)

The undersigned accuses A COUPLE OF HEARTLESS, KNOW-NOTHING, SCUMBAGS OF SOCIETY of the crime of theft and destruction to property, committed as follows:

That on or about the 17th day of August, 2008, in the City of Tagaytay, Cavite, Philippines, the said COUPLE OF HEARTLESS, KNOW-NOTHING, SCUMBAGS OF SOCIETY, with intent to gain and without violence or intimidation against the person or force against the thing, did then and there, willfully, unlawfully, and feloniously, effect entry into a parked motor vehicle by breaking a window thereof, to subsequently take, steal, and carry away two (2) backpacks, containing various personal effects and other things of significance, the property of XTIN and her brother, without the consent of the owners thereof, to the damage and prejudice of the said XTIN and her brother in some sum beyond the comprehension of mere commoners, particularly those unfamiliar to the study of law and the law of karma and samsara. ALL CONTRARY TO LAW.

It was just last Sunday when my family and I went to Tagaytay for an overnight affair with other relatives. It was supposed to be my first family get-together for a long time since I started working and attending school. I have not had enough time to go spend time with my relatives, even though they do hold these get-togethers quite frequently, because frankly, I'd rather lose a part of my social life and get passing marks in school, rather than have the time of my life in some family vacation and flunk it all. You might not get it, that's okay. But if you don't, I think your are what the abovementioned information says--a mere commoner, oblivious to the life of the study of law.

Yes, I was robbed. Our backpacks were taken away from the inside of my brother's SUV parked on the side of some dirtroad of the main road of Tagaytay. It was not so much as a breath after we alighted and went into my relatives' villa when news broke that someone crashed the window of the SUV and took our stuff. Seriously, there was not even ten minutes.

My sister-in-law told me that my bag could have also been stolen so I went back to the car and checked. I pressed my face against the back window and saw just the void where my backpack used to sit.

And there was darkness.

My entire TNF Jester (vietnam-overrun, ty kumon) was taken. I was not concerned that: (1) my three-month old 16gb Creative Zen which I opted to pay in installments and which I am still on my fourth installment was in the bag; nor was (2) my half-consumed bottle Burberry Summer; (3) bag of toiletries complete with papaya soap, lotion, deodorant, shampoo, conditioner, toothbrush, toothpaste, dental floss, and tictacs; (4) wallet, without money, but with all my valid IDs and important cards (PRC license, office and school IDs, TIN card, Visa, UCPB-BPI-MBTC ATM cards [blocking all of which, by the way, was particulary an easy task except for BPI, for which it took me ten minutes to contact the customer service representative--24-hour hotline my ass], library card, and Form 5; even my (5) keys to the house, unit, office locker, and computer lock. These were, yes, important and theoretically of value to me. But the loss of these things were nothing compared to the loss of something else, also in the bag.

In the bag also were my school materials. My commentary on Persons and Family Relations by Albano. My copies of Supreme Court cases, in the original, under legal separation under Prof. RDM's class. My pencil case. And, above all, my handwritten digests of 65 cases for RDM's class which were supposed to be due--this coming Wednesday.

Tough break, xtin. Tough break.

So, if you impute no value to the last set of losses I endured or find it difficult to comprehend, I must say that, again, you are merely a commoner to me and to the rest of us who are students of law. I have never asserted, in this degree and manner, the post-graduated course I have taken. But, the loss of my bag, especially my digests, truly breaks my heart.


To the COUPLE OF HEARTLESS, KNOW-NOTHING, SCUMBAGS OF SOCIETY that took my bag and my brother's as well, I will pray for the eternal repose of your souls. But seeing that you may not have souls at all, I'll just pray for your spontaneous, yet peaceful, imploding and combustion.

But when our paths do cross in the future, better prepare yourselves. I expect so much from you.

(1) I expect you to enroll to the College of Law next year and be ready and equipped for RDM's Persons and Family Relations class. You must ace even just the midterm, at least. My school stuff will help you out on that.

(2) You must look generally presentable--if not downright boy-next-doorish. You must have fresh breath, smooth, silky, straight hair, and a mild, refreshing citrus scent. You must have all these or a girlfriend who does, at least. My bag of toiletries will make you over.

(3) You must be Upbeat and Burning the Dance Floor with the playlists on my MP3 player.

(4) You must feel disappointment for finding out that I was able to block each and every card in that wallet you got from me, within 30 minutes after you violated our property. [no thanks to BPI and their 24-hour hotline]

(5) You must be scared to death. Because I might be praying for your peaceful departure from this earth, but that should not give you any idea that I will have some hesitation in personally effecting your demise.

Mga leche kayo.

Love, xtin.

No picture was taken of the crime scene because, truth be told, I was in shock. Hindi ko kinaya. Sayang.

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.

Eminem: Spotted in Vigan

It has been several days since I got home from my second summer getaway for 2008. I came from my Ilocos trip last Sunday in a slightly disturbed state of mind. June has sneaked up on me. In just several days, my head will find its way back in between my law books. Coming home last Sunday was a wakeup call to the reality that is going back to school.

I cringe. And yet, all of a sudden, I smell the stench of evil satisfaction.

I took my digital camera (which I call my “husband”) out of my bag and immediately, I could not contain my excitement. I come home from a wonderful vacation to a very harsh reality. But at least, there are always going to be my paparazzied finds to console my otherwise dejected soul.

The vacation was everything BUT boring. A nice break from the monotony I have been used to at work for the past few weeks. The sights and scenes were indeed magnificent.

But of course, inevitably, I came across people who ticked me off by the mere existence and sight of them. I might have been ticked off, but the idiots surely made my day.

Take this shithead as an example:

We might not be literally right smack in the middle of the summer. But the sun is still shining oh so brightly. The heat is still scorching. So if you want NOT to get a tan, I suggest a 70SPF sunblock, not a god-damned jacket, shit. Or is he simply cold? Cold from the icy 2PM sun? The whole look’s irony is super annoying. I would’ve understood a bit if this were a female. You know the type. Those girls totally conscious of ruining their glutathione-induced fair skin. But hell, this shit is a guy. Crap.

Moving on.

The beach seemed to be filled by iconic fashion humor that sunny day. The following images contain, not adult material, but people who are adults, were on beach, and were in what we call MATABUNGKS outfits.

“Matabungks” comes from Matabungkay, or a beach somewhere in Cavite, madly popular in the early nineties, during those days places like Boracay and Palawan were still in anonymity to the vacationing public. Since those days, Matabungkay has become too, erm, stale for our taste. Okay, so by stale, I actually mean baduy. The Matabungks outfit is, hence, an outfit that is just that—baduy. Why baduy? Come on. It’s the beach. Why in God’s holy name would you swim in a cotton tank top (or worse, in an over-sized cotton T-shirt) and shorts, when you have perfectly suitable swimwear underneath? Conservative much? Don’t want to show skin? Ladies, if you all are too damn uptight to reveal even the slightest pore of your chipetik epidermis, here’s an idea: Don’t go to the beach. What’s the point, right?

This group’s outfits were not the only things that pissed me off that day on the beach. Notice that they have guys with them in their cool group (See inset, where one of them was caught wearing the guy version of the Matabungks outfit, white sando, oh yeah!). As I was going into the water, I noticed that these shitheads were smoking in the water. Yuck, right? As if they did not appear uncouth enough, I even saw a cig butt floating in the water. Gawd. Squatter. Know-nothing, uncivilized, creatures of vacationers.

If you’re not that much convinced of my assertions of what kind of people this group is, I should also mention that, they had their cottage filled with liquor, cigs, and a hookah pipe. Yes, a hookah pipe. I know, right? So appropriate for the beach…an open, family-oriented area.

Plus, the guys of the group looked like this:

Basketball shorts as board shorts, worn-out flipflops, bad-ass beer bellies, oily hair… Get what I mean? Say it with me. SQUATTER. IS-KWA-TERRRRR.

Okay, so much with getting irritated by idiots on the beach.

From the sands of Blue Lagoon, we trotted to the historical streets of Vigan.

But as our trip wound down and as we were strolling along Calle Crisologo, a celebrity made an apparition…

Not only did he lose himself in the music. He lost himself in the orange-white-yellow hoodie and cap joke of a number he had on. And, I lost my self in laughter (in my head).

So yes, this entry has come to an end. I have run out of paparazzied finds to laugh at and share. Time to face reality. Back to school. Well, it’s not ALL bad news. Maybe I could paparazzi someone in school and make this reality something to my enjoyment. Harharhar. Professors and classmates beware.