Mayday! May Sale!

May is such an exciting month.  Reeling from the rush of the annual report, we have until midmonth to file the first quarter report to the SEC, and until monthend to report the tax.

Hurray for labor!

But aside from reportorial heat, May is also good for a different kind of heat; like the one you feel in your wallet.

The Enterprise Tower holds its Markdown Madness, featuring shoes from Sketchers, Ecko, Zoo York and Merrell.  

So from May 2 - 6, you can expect a lot of corporate types flocking into the Enterprise to part with their paychecks, as I have already.

I actually wanted to buy hiking shoes, but those on sale are still beyond my budget.  Still, a pair of walking shoes for 995 doesn't hurt too much.

Another reason to part with your money is offered by Starbucks.  From 12 noon til 2pm, all their Fraps are available at half-price.

Good deal, huh?  Except for the fact that I like my coffee better when it's hot.  And the long lines!  They're monstrous, I tell you.  Imagine the traffic along EDSA during the rush hour?  That's how it looks like at every Starbucks branch near my place.

I'm Fine

An online contact messaged me one time and asked how I was.

Without missing a beat, I replied:  "aside from frustrations over mounting work and the need to revisit 2009 and 2010 computations and the nagging thought that the 1st Qtr reporting is looming and I haven't even touched 2011 figures, I'm fine. :-)"

Yeah, I guess you can call me passive-aggressive.  And a bit naive, for after I left the Great Place, I thought I any job I take would be comparatively boring.  It was that toxic.

But what do you know... I'm in another toxic job once again, and I'm loving it.  Honestly, I love it still.  I just hope the toxicity tapers off in the coming weeks, because I no longer have the well of patience I once had.  And I don't want a repeat of the work-induced hiatus of prior years.



       Hello Alphalist… Again!

Due to time constraints and the author’s lack of available gray matter, this blog has been temporarily postponed.


Tune in again after the author has finished with the Alphalist.


And the PNL.

And the PNL Analysis.

And the Cost Analysis.

And the Monthly Financial Statements.

And the Audit.

And the Letters of Authority from the BIR, for the years 2004, 2005 and 2006.


… so hopefully, around August, I think…



published in friendster blog March 19th, 2008

The Alphalist Series

I started blogging while I was still a slave at the Great Place, with each of my entries advertised as notifications in friendster.  The alphalist series was one of the last few entries I made exclusively for that site.  After the brouhaha one officemate experienced, I searched for other venues to vent out my thoughts.

The alphalist, by the way, is the shortened term for Employees' Alphabetical Listing.  A summary schedule prepared by HR and Payroll annually for submission to the BIR, and consequently, the bane of us accountants during that audit year.  One month before its filing, and well in the middle of that audit season, Payroll gave up its attempts at recon and gave us the work.

We loved it, of course. 

  Goodbye Alphalist, hello PNL, for now…

It’s amazing how much load one can carry without complaining. But sometimes, even the workhorse need to be unloaded if you want it to function effectively.


Lately, it seems that too much work have been piled up to us that it is starting to get irksome, at the very least. The work itself is not a problem, though, but rather the manner on how the "work" came to be passed on to us. I mean, here we are, up to our elbows with our workload, and lo and behold!– more work, courtesy of another department. It just boils my entrails to be knee-deep in thought, trying to analyze a year’s muck just so I can come up with the accurate reports I need.


But why am I posting this here, on this blog containing my full name and the company I work for, fully aware that some listed friends are officemates? Because (1) I can, and (2) I am resting on the fact that my verbosity put people off enough NOT to read whatever trash I write. Basically, I’m hiding behind my words and my thoughts. Even though this way of writing is all but normal to me, most people I know tend to shy away from it, cursing its length and its polysyllabic entries. Thus, I feel that somehow, this venting is safe from the prying eyes of officemates.


But now, I wander. I am here to vent after all, and not to explain myself nor expound on my vocabulary.


I love working. I love the sense of fulfillment I get after finishing off a report, or after unraveling some profound reportorial quagmire. What I don’t like is the monotony of it; of doing the same things day in and day out, slaving away on your computer screen, waiting for your computer to process what you are thinking fast enough before it slips our mind. I love the analysis portion of it, but I am starting to loathe the boring manual side to it. And thank the heavens my store is large enough to merit an assistant to "train" and to do the work I have started to detest.


But just when I have started to unload myself with the non-analytical aspects of work, here comes more work, more slavish pursuits, to eat up my time away from my analysis.


Complaining is fun. This is a mantra from one of my favorite essayists that I’ve adopted for my own. But I daresay there are limits to the "fun-ness" of complaining. Complaining about work with officemates is okay, and is healthy, but once you complain to friends about your work, then I think you now have a problem. Your friends, not being in the same office as yourself, does not know the full extent of what you do, and therefore is not privy to your suffering; fictional or otherwise. It is therefore useless to complain to them for they do not understand the extent of your burdens. They should thus be exempted from random bickering regarding your job. Besides, they can only give you one logical piece of advise — if you don’t like your job, resign.


But I don’t hate my job, and I don’t want to resign… or at least not yet. Having been dangled a promotion, and then for it to be surreptitiously forgotten is reason enough to lose morale (and maybe to find it somewhere else) but I feel that there are more things here to be explored. And somehow, there seems to be a silver lining for me. I now have two offers; one a change of work; the other a change of approach, but in conjunction to the same work. One rather serious and possibly executable; the other rather flippant, and maybe more talk than deed. I don’t want to talk about it yet in fear of either (or both) fizzling, but the idea of being able to do a different work rather tickles my fancy. I fervently hope that it does push through…




published in friendster blog February 1st, 2008

To Do Lists

 

This is what occupies most of my waking moments for the past few months.  We've yet to finalize everything, but I am hopeful we'll make it through.  It isn't like we're still in square one after all; we've pushed through a long long way, and for that I am proud of our accomplishments.  

But one more season like this and I'll probably loose my mind.  And I almost have, for a spell.  I've gone through anxiety attacks the likes of which I have not suffered before, and all because of my work.  

When it comes to that, I make lists.  Somehow, the act of committing into paper the number of tasks you need to accomplish eases the panic in my mind.  It doesn't matter that I wouldn't be able to even hope to finish everything written, it doesn't even matter how many reams of paper is used to list down all the tasks at hand.  What matters is that all the tasks are written; concrete; defined.  

It's infinitely easier tackling an opponent you can see and define; rather than the monster your mind whispers you should kill.

End of An Era

Finally, after years of struggle, Friendster finally hangs its towel.


It was one of the pioneers of social networking and took the country by storm.  Suddenly, not only were people cam-whoring to death, they were posting pictures everywhere.

I got into the bandwagon because a friend urged me to it.  And like the multitude before me, and indeed after me, I was hooked; not only on the prospect of committing my life online, but on the perverse joys of peeking on other people's lives.  Suddenly stalking became the vogue.


Then, one day, they introduced the blogging feature, and I was intrigued.  Now they did not pioneer the blog phenomenon, but then the prospect of writing my thoughts did appeal to me.  And the idea of it's being secure, with only my contacts being privy to my thoughts gave me the needed push to give it a try.


Unfortunately, Friendster got so popular that everyone I worked with at the time already had an account and everyone had added me as a friend.  Suddenly my thoughts weren't so private anymore.  So when I got wind of this little-known site called Facebook, I latched on to it willingly to avoid the rush and crush of unwanted eyes looking onto my pictures and my activities outside of the office.  Around the same time, I heard of Blogspot and Multiply, and the idea of blogging anonymously then appealed to me, hiding my thoughts on plain sight, so to speak.


And when an officemate was called in by HR due to a blog she posted on her Friendster account, I knew I was correct in moving my thoughts to a different venue.  Although I still opine that I wasn't called in as well because of my penchant for writing in English, which most officemates had an aversion to.


And now, Friendster is closing, announcing to its (former) users to get their data off the site or forever loose it.


Finally, an ultimatum to once and for all migrate all my posts here.

DOJ: Man-hunt out for group responsible for placing assets under Gen Ligot's name

30 MARCH 2011.  Manila, Philippines.  Former Armed Forces of the Philippines (AFP) Comptroller, Jacinto Ligot, said in a statement issued yesterday that he and his wife is requesting the National Bureau of Investigations (NBI) to form a special task force to identify the person or persons responsible for placing spurious assets under the ex-General's name.  "I do not remember having houses in the US, nor bank account in the millions.  Obviously, this is the work of persons unknown, and with the help of the NBI, their nefarious activities will come to an end," Ligot said.

The embattled General, along with other former AFP officials, have been subject of Senate inquiry on corruption in the AFP following the accusations said by whistle-blower Colonel Goerge Rabusa, who was a former military budget officer.  During the hearings of the Senate Blue Ribbon committee, Senate President Pro-Tempore Jinggoy Estrada presented various properties in California which were purportedly under the name of the General's wife, Mrs Erlinda Ligot.  The general denied knowledge of the assets in question.

The Department of Justice, said in a statement presented to the press, that they will comply with the general's request and has already formed a task force to track down the group responsible for placing assets under the names of the general and his wife.  "We must, in all haste, find out the identities of these persons and bring them to justice.  They have already done much damage to the general, and it has got to stop," the statement said.

Chess

Growing up, my father taught me how to play chess. Nothing formal though; I still can't distinguish Kasparov from Tchaikovsky; but the basics were given clear.  Every piece has its unique move, every character, its strengths and limitations.

I may not know the various openings named after the masters but I do know well enough that the game is that of strategy.  To ensure your win, you must always be five steps ahead of your opponent.  You must anticipate every move and be ready for your counter move.  You should be able to weigh the value of every piece and move it about on the board.

And you should be willing to sacrifice a royal if it means getting ahead in the exchange.

It was one of the few activities that my brother, dad and I have bonded with.  One of my many frustrations was I could never beat them in three out of five games.  And I have this suspicion that they sometimes let me win on purpose.

We loved the game so much, we were able to run through a number of chessboards that seem to mysteriously vanish after a while.  Our fondest set was a Simpsons-inspired set, with Bart as pawn; Lisa as bishop; Maggie, the knight (she has a toy horse as steed, the cutie); and Homer, Marge and Grandpa as king, queen and rook respectively.  My brother and I pooled our allowances just to get that set; we took care not to scratch the pieces; we even preserved the box it came with.  But out efforts came to naught when our little sister used the pieces (they were made of rubber) as chew toys, and threw the rest every which way.  I really miss that game board.  


Once, during my free period, when I was a freshman in high school, I came to watch our chess varsity play in one of their practices.  One of them invited me to play and I accepted.  I opted for an aggressive match and soon, I had him on the defensive.  It was only through my carelessness (and a little help from his mates) that I lost the game.  I enjoyed the game, but the invitation for me to join the varsity was at best, only lip service, so I stopped hanging out at their place.  It did teach me the value of a great defensive strategy.

Nowadays, it's very rare that I encounter someone who plays the sport.  It's as if everyone has contracted attention deficit disorder, that the time it takes to play the game is a few minutes too long for them to endure.  Which is a pity, because as board games go, chess is still the most fulfilling of the lot.


I no longer have anyone to play with, but I don't think I stopped playing.  Anticipate the opponent, and always be a few steps ahead of the game, that is what the game has taught me; and while on the offensive, always have a piece or two protecting your attackers.  I have been accused of being distant and calculating, and it's probably correct - I'm playing chess, it seems.  Even now, I'm still playing, and my earlier defeats have made me stand on the defensive, waiting for the other's attack before I make my move.


And faced with an equally defensive opponent, this game is getting longer and longer to resolve.  I have been tracing back the moves made by each side, and I believe I see a pattern.  We are down to our last few moves, I believe, and it promises to boil down to one outcome:  Stalemate.

Carbs!

We had a meeting yesterday.  It started 9.30am and by 2pm, we weren't even finished.  It was agreed, though, that we would have a break, but reconvene for the meeting by 3pm.  Lunch, therefore, had to be really quick.  I wasn't afforded my ample me-time and it blows.

By 3.30, we were back to the meeting, discussing the various issues and deficiencies that need to be addressed for the year-end closing.  We finished a few minutes past 7pm.

After that whole day of meeting, I no longer had the energy to even look at my computer.  I merely turned it off and promptly left the office.  Who cares if, during the meeting, I'm ticking off one task after another that I need to perform; I was drained.  I needed a change of venue.

I needed to perk up after that ordeal.  And what better way to do so than to eat.

Introducing TOSH: Express' Carbo-overload meal.  Shepherd's Pie, rice and pasta alfredo, and an iced tea for an additional 10 pesos.  The whole gamut of carbs in the food pyramid:  wheat, maize, potato, grains.

After finishing the whole plate, I was back to my normal, cheery self.

Good eats!

Deja vu

I accompanied a friend to Cavite one Saturday to visit another friend whose ward passed on, and to offer support and condolences.  It was a lazy day, and though we planed on going early, it was already late afternoon when we got there.  It was no easy feat getting there, what with the distance involved and the number of towns you have to pass through.  It was such a favor then that there were minimal traffic at the time.

We spent a considerable amount of time there, just eating and hanging out, and a bit of touring on the side.  And it wasn't until way past midnight when we decided to leave.  Unfortunately, the buses don't start their service until 2am, so we decided to wait a couple more hours.

Going to the bus station was a bit of a walk, but the night was comfortably cold and there weren't too many vehicles running about, so it was alright.  At first sight of the station, I felt a sudden loss of balance.  "I've been here before," I murmured to myself.  Chance, whom I accompanied there was looking for the restroom, and almost automatically, I pointed to where it is.  Or where it should be located.  And I was right.

The sense of deja vu was palpable, and I was reeling, trying to remember when I had been here before.  There were a few changes, of course, from the height of the seats, and the mini-store set up up front, but the rest of the area, the permanent structures at least, was where I remember -- or thought I remember -- it was.

Now, I've been a bit of a wanderlust ever since, but I cannot, for the life of me, remember going to that part of Cavite City.  Sure, I've been to the city with my mom and siblings, but it was a different part of the city we always visited then.  I do not remember officemates who are from that parts as well; most of them were from north of Manila.

I do remember some college friends who were from Cavite, but Bacoor and Tanza were very far from where we were at the moment.  I remember commuting to Island Cove to and fro before, but it wouldn't justify going to Cavite City just for the bus homeward, as the bus would pass the resort after all.  

For the life of me, I still couldn't remember when, how and why I have been to that bus station before, and it boggles the mind trying to recall.  So maybe for now, I'll just put it on my folder of unexplained occurrences.

A Little Pick-Me-Up

Sometimes, when you're particularly down, the universe decides to give you a pick-me-up; give you some answer to your needs.  I've been needing an ego-boost for some time and I got it.  But not in a way I particularly wanted.

After a slow Friday night, Chase and I decided to just call it in early, for a change.  My friend just got a snub from the first taxi we just hailed when a dark car stopped in front of us.  From the open passenger window, a middle-aged chinito asked us where we would be heading, and was offering to drive us there.  Good Samaritan, maybe, but the manner of his offer sent a different message to us.

We were being picked up.

Right in front of the mall, just a few meters from the entrance ramp to the parking -- a middle-aged man was trying to pick my friend and I up.

At first, I thought he was merely asking for directions, but when I realized what he was offering, I moved away from his vantage point.  I couldn't stop laughing!  I couldn't help it; it was happening right in my backyard (the mall, I mean) and because the guy was trying to make the moves on the TWO of us.

Right after that incident, we couldn't just go home; we were too flabbergasted, we needed coffee to calm us down.

I am quite aware that these these things happen.  Just last October, something of the sort did happen, but the driver merely rolled his window down and nodded to me to come hither.  I just bowed my head down and continued walking.  What made this encounter different was the forward attitude of the ... ummm...  picker... and that he was trying to do a two-for-one deal.

Composing ourselves after that ordeal, we decided to finally call it a night; we've had excitement one too many already.  Given that it was later in the night, we had an easier time getting a cab.  I hitched a ride going to Makati Avenue.  From there, it would be easier getting home.  But the ride was quite short, and I still had more adrenaline to burn, so I decided to walk the remainder of the way, instead of riding the jeep.

I am very fond of walking along JP Rizal; during the few times that I decided to walk the Panata on Holy Thursday, that stretch of street going to Edsa is one of the easiest to traverse, thanks to the sidewalks.  But the street has, for some time, accumulated a bit of a bad rep for being, well, a pick-up spot.  And no sooner than a few minutes of walking did I notice an SUV on the opposite side of the road, with windows down, and its lone passenger, giving me the eye.  Once more, my usual tactics was in order:  ignore, look away, and move along.

It was smooth sailing after that, until midway my trek, when nearing the Municipal Office, I glanced to my right and lo and behold! the same SUV is rolling slowly along the street and the driver is once more looking at my direction.  I quickened my pace and looked straight ahead, lest he think I'm toying with any ideas.  Thankfully, he sped away after a few minutes.  The rest of the walk going home was peaceful after that affair, thank the heavens.

Things like that doesn't always happen, and for that, I am grateful.  But I have to admit that it does perk up one's ego to know that somehow, someone still finds you palatable. 

Errant Thoughts on a Workday

I hate the feeling of not being able to concentrate.  And right now, it seems I'm always bisected.  I can't focus.  There are so many errant thoughts crowding my mind and competing for attention.  I don't want to wallow in these thoughts because I know it can only lead me to depression.

I have always tried to compartmentalize everything in my life.  The more delineated the partitions made, the more organized and secure I feel - and the more impervious to hurt.  Lately, I've loosened these boundaries and it felt good to do so.  Unfortunately, once these dams have been opened, it is hard to keep them shut.  Now my distractions are aggravated by the mingling of emotions.  To make matters worse, my feelings for some persons are slowly getting mixed up, that I don't know what I feel about either.  It could also be that my displaced feeling for one is fueling my affection for another.  I don't know.  I don't trust myself with this.

It's odd though, that now when I'm feeling out of sorts and distracted, my boss compliments me on my put-together attitude.  Talk about seeming cool, calm and collected, when my insides are churning fit to burst with these oft-ignored emotions.

Odd though, that it would take an earthquake to lift my spirits up.  Nothing like a dose of Mother Nature's powers to ignite the fire in one's soul.  

Hold Up

Ever since I can remember, I have disliked taxis.  I have this long-standing notion of taxis, and their drivers, being highway robbers, robbing commuters blind of their money.  This is especially true during the Christmas season, when these demons grow unusually long horns.  Why, most of them even have the temerity to tip themselves from your change even before you decide to do so!

This is why I have always opted for public transport whenever possible.  Public utility vehicles, after all, take you to your desired locations, if you know the route.  They are cheaper as well, albeit less convenient.  And economy gets more importance than convenience in my books.

But there are times though, when economy takes a back seat and the ease of the taxi becomes invaluable.  Last Friday was one of those days.

I was running late and my destination was far from my regular routes.  I knew I had to swallow my pride and ride a taxi.  And it was just my luck that the one time I needed one, there weren't any vacant cabs to be had. There is this ridiculous abundance of these little buggers whenever I don't need it, oftentimes, when I'm waiting for a jeepney, a couple of of these cars would stop in front of me, hoping I would ride.  And the one day I needed one, there were none!  Nada.  Zero.  Caput.

I hopped from one location to the next, each time riding the taxi to my locales.  And it's just happy coincidence that the three taxis i rode all were calibrated with the new meters.

Yes, that's 40 pesos flag-down and 3.50 every few hundred meters.  If I weren't so busy, I would've taken longer to recover from the feeling of being robbed.  And it does sting, being held up like that.  My wallet took it really hard.

Of the three I rode, only one was kind enough to issue me my receipt; and I had to ask for it to be printed.  The other two didn't even have tape receipts for which to print the proof of my purchase.

I Lost My Phone

I lost my phone last night.  I only had it for six months. 


I was drunk; I was careless; and I didn't really care.  The moment I realized I lost the phone, it took me two minutes to get over the fact and resume drinking and dancing.


I am, of course, sad that I lost it, particularly with the loss of numbers and photos and messages stored therein.  But I have gone past any compulsion to grieve over lost things, unlike before when my phones were almost surgically attached to my hand that losing it causes actual physical pain.


Suffering a love-hate relationship with the phone also helps in shortening the grieving process.  I'm also more concerned over the inconveniences the loss is causing compared to the loss itself.  I have requested for a replacement sim and am using my spare -- and that is the easy part.  Rebuilding my lost contacts, now, that would be the hard part.


And such is the reason for this post.  I have the same number, so if you're up for reconnecting, message me with your name, so I can save your number.  Yeah, posting this is easier than asking everybody I know for everybody else's number.  I know, I'm lazy like that.  ;-)

[Not] Born This Way

...too bad the song supports homosexuality. =( God didn't make gays lesbians transvestites and they were definitely NOT born that way. pero ang ganda nga ng boses.

I really hate to ask this, but are Christian viewpoints really so narrow?  Here we are again, met with another little Filipina to make our race proud, another soul recognized internationally because of her talent, and all you can focus on is the "un-Christian-ness" of her song selection.  Did you even research on the rest of the song's lyrics?

I'm beautiful in my way,
'Cause God makes no mistakes
I'm on the right track, baby
I was born this way

Correct me if I'm wrong, but those lyrics seem like a praise to God, and how perfect He is, and all His creations.

Don't be drag, just be a queen
Whether you're broke or evergreen
You're black, white, beige, chola descent
You're lebanese, you're orient
Whether life's disabilities
Left you outcast, bullied or teased
Rejoice and love yourself today
'Cause baby, you were born this way


How can you dismiss a song so utterly just because it gave a shout out to "gays, lesbians and transvestites".  Did you not see how the song aims to uplift the spirits of those outcast for their appearance; for their color, race or disabilities?  The song wants you to embrace who and what you are, to not let yourself be the victim of the stereotype.  It tells you to love your quirks, your uniqueness -- your GOD-GIVEN individuality.


So raise your glass if you are wrong
In all the right ways
All my underdogs, we will never be, never be
Anything but loud
And nitty gritty dirty little freaks


Cause baby you're a firework
Come on show 'em what you're worth
Make 'em go "Oh, oh, oh!"
As you shoot across the sky-y-y
Baby you're a firework
Come on let your colors burst
Make 'em go "Oh, oh, oh!"
You're gonna leave 'em all in awe-awe-awe


Pink and Katy Perry said much the same things with their songs, why are you not panning them in the same way?  Is it because the "gays, lesbians and transvestites" have made Lady Gaga the figurehead of their advocacy?  Or maybe because Lady Gaga, when placed side by side with Katy and Pink, looks weird?  I can only hope that it isn't the case.

I have been blessed with quality, secular education during my formative years, and I was taught that our God was a Father who loves his flock as much as the sick, the lepers, the outcasts; and who readily forgives.  He taught me to love my neighbors as much as myself.  He was no longer the vengeful, wrathful god of the Old Testament who commands his people to crush the infidels.  He was a universal, CATHOLIC God full of love and tolerance.  Or do you worship a god that is different from my own?

I remember years ago, when Madonna was much maligned and criticized by various Christian groups to no end because of Papa Don't Preach; stating that the song promotes pre-marital sex; urging people not to support her and her music for its un-Christian message.  An unfair treatment (yet again) considering the very pro-life message of the song.

Papa don't preach, I'm in trouble deep
Papa don't preach, I've been losing sleep
But I made up my mind, I'm keeping my baby, oh
I'm gonna keep my baby

Give the girl a break!  She knows she made a mistake, and she's pregnant because of it.  But she has decided she'll correct that mistake and let her baby live.  Must you dwell on the wrongdoing committed rather than the actions made to make amends?  Isn't passing judgment on other people also an un-Christian trait?

I've digressed.  Too much, it seems.

We're talking here about a girl, a Filipina, who is a source of national pride for being recognized for her talent.

Why couldn't you have left it at that, and steered way away from quick judgment on her song choices?

I am SO glad you are not one of my facebook contacts.

I Take it Back

I finished another torturous session of kicks and flips and was about to go down when one co-trainee addressed me and said "I take it back."  Just those four words, and no explanation at all.  Piqued by his cryptic talk, I braced myself for intellectual discourse, as is my nature. 


"Whuut?!"  I asked, and promptly gave myself a mental facepalm.


"No, it's nothing," he replied while stepping back to give me access to the stairs leading out of the dojo.  I've been dismissed.  End of conversation.


Given that this was the first time I saw this person in the few sessions that I've attended, I really shouldn't be affected with what he said -- or didn't say.  I mean, come on, by now, I should be confident enough in what I do and who I am, and what other people think of me shouldn't really affect me.


But I'm also paranoid enough and psychotic enough to hark on this endlessly.  Like what I am doing right now.


It could be a positive.  He might have seen me at the start of the session, made some quick judgement, and was proven wrong.  Then for decency's sake, and because he has already talked about me with his peers, he confronts me to tell me that he's taking back his initial negative appraisal, as I have proven him wrong, no matter how unwittingly.


It could also be easily a negative, where his initial positive appraisal had been marred by what he observed during the almost two-hour session.


Either way, whatever he thinks shouldn't really affect me, as his brain isn't my jurisdiction, and attempting to pick on it isn't really helping my cause.  Still, whatever it was that happened there brought home the fact that my three weeks of training notwithstanding, I still am the outsider, and no matter how out-of-the-blue their appearance in the dojo would be, three weeks' attendance can never trump years of camaraderie.  Especially if the new guy cannot even perform a basic cartwheel perfectly.

Jerusalem

"YOU LOOK BLOOMING, who are you dating?"  Jerusalem could only blush and giggle like a schoolgirl in reply.  Typical Jerusalem behavior, the one that endeared us in the first place.  The group has all eyes on Jerusalem, the non-answer to the question sparking more interest than the question warranted in the first place.  No one's eating nor discussing in little groups anymore, as all attention was given to Jerusalem.  Still no answer, only that sweet, adorable smile.

One after another, the group uttered a name, trying to elicit a reaction from Jerusalem.  With each name given, only a giggle and a shake of the head issues forth -- no.  Predictably, more names are given, but still, no affirmative response from Jerusalem.

Stumped, the group gave up as one and changed tactics, slapping Jerusalem in the arms, just enough to hurt the name out.  When asking nicely doesn't work, a bit of manhandling can do wonders.  After a few minutes of laughing banter and not a few exchanges of slaps, Jerusalem did relent.  "Okay, I'll tell," Jerusalem said.

"So who are you dating?" Mirror asked expectantly, a hint of a smile building at the corner of his mouth.

Silence all around the table, all ears upon Jerusalem's announcement.

"I'm dating Night Shift."

----

My eyes shot open and I heard my fist thumping the bed as if in frustration.

What a way to wake up in the morning.

Addictions: Wine

I've been craving for wine for some time now, and it's such happy coincidence that I some bottles at my disposal.  But seeing as I am out of the house most times, I haven't had the time to enjoy my reds as they should be.  And the times when I am in, I am unable to find my corkscrew.


Some two Christmases ago, a former officemate gave me a multi-tool (okay, a faux Swiss Army knife) as a gift.  I seldom use it but deemed its usefulness to come in handy sometime, so I kept it.  The funny thing with my stuff, I keep it, knowing it will come in handy, but it gets lost the moment I need it.  And for about a week, I've been looking for that damned corkscrew, well cursory searches, that is, I've very little time spent in the house these days, and most of those times are spent sleeping. 


Today though, I am happily without weekend plans and my corkscrew search was a success!  So with corkscrew in hand, I slowly twisted my way onto the cork, my mouth already watering at the anticipation of that acidic earthiness the bottle promised.  But no matter how much I tugged, the cork stayed firmly in place, as if in silent mocking at my apparent lack of strength.


After a few more tries, I checked the bottle and found out the problem:

  
My fake Swiss knife couldn't handle the cork and the wine bottle.  Silly of me to think that it would open, really.


So, until I find a good enough corkscrew, that bottle of wine will continue to mock me night after night.


Damn.

Are You Mad?

Dear officemate, no, I am not angry at you.  Honestly, I care too little to be truly angry.  I seem to remember telling you that before:  that I am not mad, I just lack patience.

And it's my patience that you're once again testing.  

Granted, I did lose some of that patience when you tagged each and every ugly picture of me on two of your albums, and on another officemate's photo album.  Said albums, by the way, are not even private, and available for everyone to see.  As you see -- or probably, you don't -- I love my privacy.  I took pains to cluster my contacts to various groups to minimize overlaps and to ensure that information is restricted from one group to the other.  And with each and every tagged photo, I get a notification on my email and phone, and it's such a bother, especially that we're on our busiest weeks at work.  


I playfully called your attention to that and, how did you react?  You went all emo on me, posting loaded status messages on facebook and yahoo messanger about how you're sad and how I don't even look at you anymore.  And don't give me the "how do you know it's about you" rhetoric, you've already tested my patience, don't insult my intelligence as well.  I know it's about me, and not just because your office buddy keeps on commenting on your emo posts with her own loaded comments.


Do you know what I do when people piss me off?  I erase them.  I write them off.  I ignore them.  If they are not in my world, then they will not piss me off. And congratulations, you've won yourself a ticket!  And the more that you force me into acknowledging you, the more that I will ignore you.  And come on, with your work, and your friends, and your husband and child, you really don't need me to clutter up your life, so please, do not clutter mine.


You've seen me in one of my moods before, and I told you to just let me be, as it will subside eventually.  Why can't you do the same now?  Especially now, that you are the object of my abject disapproval, and not just collateral damage.

Something to Satisfy Your Cravings

Gusto mo bang mag-69? 


Tara na, 6 inches din yun!

You can get your hands on a 6-inch spicy Italian for 69, how cool is that?!


So head on over to the nearest Subway to experience this great deal!




Subway:  Dahil masarap mag-69 ng 6 inches.