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.