Just Another Day At Work

Tuesday, July 31, 2007

p.s.: Yeah yeah, code's not finished. Don't bother making funny remarks about the function logic.

Theme of Prontera - Lyrics and Translation (work in progress)

Monday, July 30, 2007

Okay, nothing funny about this entry, I'm just posting for reference. Here's the lyrics of the main theme for the on-vocal version of Theme of Prontera from the album The Memory of Ragnarok. The lyrics took me ages to find (and no, it took me more than just googling for it). Translation notes: Blue is the rough translation. Green is the WIP english syllabicated lyrics.

겨울에 닫혔던 창문을 열고
물색 하늘 만큼 날 사랑한다 했어
그 때로 돌아가고 싶지만
너무 늦어 버린걸까

Open up, all those windows closed for the winter
and look up to the sunny skies above you
Reminisce, take a deep breath and then recall
but it's all too late, all too soon

She opens the window that's closed during winter
and she looks up to the skies she loves
she thinks of going back at times but
too much will be lost for it is too late

새처럼 멀리 날아간 날부터
세상은 내게 텅 빈 보석상자 같아
이제는 다시 볼 수 없지만
자꾸만 열어 보곤 하지

Like a bird, you have flown a-ll too far now
would you watch how the world has vanished beneath you?
and perhaps, I'd never see you again
until then, at the edge of the solstice

like a bird of the sun, she flies far
the world disappears and the stars soon sleep
and you'd think you'd never see her again
but she shows up again come the solstice of summer

언젠가 처음 니 입술을 느꼈던
어느 작은 숲 속에 누워
울다가 잠이 들면은 널 만날 수 있을까

Just like wine, your warmth getting in my lips
and you seep deep inside me woo-hoo
in my sleep, we may yet meet with tears
girl who lies within my dreams

She feels like wine as she touches your mouth
and she settles deep inside
crying in your sleep, you might meet
for she lies within your dreams

꿈속에서 숨쉬는 그대
잠에서 깨어 네 품에 안긴채 입맞춤 하네
눈을 떠도 보이는 모습
그리워도 이제는 너를 잊기로 했네

following but my own ebb and flow, i can never know,
of how you're always with me (and never at all)
and how my eyes have always longed, seeing but dreams
And maybe, after this, I'd forget

from what lies in you, she adjusts
and she makes herself shown
how the eyes long to see her and probably in dreaming they will see clearly
and maybe then you will forget

Last part is pretty much the same except the last line changes to :

그리워도 이제는 너를 느낄 수 있네
Still maybe, after this, I'd remember
and maybe then you will remember.


There you have it. Don't bug me about the translations being sucky or the song not making any sense. Any song that compares women to beer in the belly should never be taken seriously. Anyhoo, that's all.

Apple's Comeback: The iCar.

At some point in time, people will probably wonder how the heck they'd get around bragging about their new Microsoft Surface. As with anything designed to enlarge the e-penis, a device's ability to be exhibited for the sole purpose of e-penis envy is very important. Given the sheer fucking size of Microsoft Surface though, lugging it around in your pocket for parties can be a problem, unless of of course you have no qualms about getting hernia.

So in the interest of promoting a product I can safely say I wont be buying anytime soon, I can only think of one quick, engineered solution:


That's right. Can you picture it now? You, the handsome motherfucker pushing around that huge table-like computer reminiscent of the arcade games of old. People who see you will wonder with awe: Is that the garbageman moving around the dump bin? Or is that a homeless guy with a wicked looking pushcart? No, it's you, you handsome devil - and your Microsoft

And then you'd probably get tired. So here's a tip for Microsoft's wonderful design team: Release a newer version, 2.0. And instead of making things smaller, lighter (that shit is Apple territory so, we're staying away from that), add an engine. That'll make the Microsoft Surface the first truly mobile electronic appliance of the future.

So what's better than a device that tells you how to get to places? A device that does that and actually takes you there* (*battery life to be improved in 3.0 with optional nuclear reactor)

Of course we cant expect good ol' Steve Jobs to take this shit lightly. Soon enough they'll release a counterpart, the iCar. Following the minimalist design, it'll probably balance on one wheel, with gyroscopes constantly recalibrating internal balance to make sure the car doesnt tip over. (expect really complicated technology to solve common sense problems) Controls will be reduced to "play, back, fast forward, and pause" with a clickwheel serving both as an accelerator and a steering wheel. Because less is more, right Jobs?

After that, Apple will screw its own userbase over again by releasing iCar Nano. 1/8 the size of the iCar, barely able to sit 1 man. You'd probably say "it's too small for its own fucking good." Expect fanboys to lash back and say "then all the better for the environment!" Because Apple products is awesome, like that.

Going further on into the forecasted future, the iCar Shuffle will be released - a sign Steve Jobs is no longer holding back. Destinations will be programmed using the iTunes in your PC (which at this time probably takes up 80% of hard disk space already, and is an OS of its own) and then controls will be reduced to just 1 button - which randomly takes you places, like the house of your mother, your exgf's pad, or maybe over a cliff.

Because life is random.

Big is Beautiful.

Sunday, July 29, 2007

At least according to Microsoft and its new product. Somebody forgot to tell them nude pregnant women never went mainstream in the first place.

Props to Jeromy of http://sarcasticgamer.com for the vid.

Teenage Car

Thursday, July 26, 2007

Back in college we used to have this term called "teenage car". A teenage car is basically the most default thing that we can see on the road. Are you driving one? Check this list to find out.

- The car is usually a Civic, a Corolla, or a Lancer.

- Either the car is lowered or there are side curtains. It's slow as fuck when passing by humps because they have to pass by it sideways and at the speed of crawling grass.

- Your windows are heavily tinted. (keeps the ugly in)

- Windows are always rolled down. Don't be surprised of these guys smell like lechon manok roasted by the roadside when they arrive wherever they are going.

- Loud RnB music playing with bass cranked up enough to render passengers sterile. (loud music + bad taste = spermicide)

- Driver is a teenager of course, usually semi-cal. Passengers are often his teenager friends hitching. To know if they're friends, watch how their heads bob up and down with the music - if that's the case, they're the real deal.

- Driver's elbow is sticking out, often with a lighted cigarette hanging outside.

- Sticker on the windshield. Plus points if it's written in Chinese/Japanese.

- The car is usually dad's old car, and there are probably funny stainmarks on the backseat's covers.

- There's "Mugen" sticker somewhere on the car. Plus points if there's a "peeing boy" sticker near the gas tank. (probably put there by the previous owner, the dad)

- The interior smell like pork (I don't know why. They just do.)

If you find yourself saying "hmm, wow, this looks like what I'm driving," you're probably driving a "teenage car". Repercussions? Nothing really.

Enjoy your mediocrity, moron.


Wednesday, July 25, 2007

There were once two prankster students who decided that there was only space for one in their classroom. One of them, thinking it best to intimidate by striking first, got hold of the other student's pencil case and filled its insides with glue. Because of this, the other student was no longer able to use his pens because they were buried inside half an inch thick layer of Elmer's glue. The student who poured in the glue expected retribution, but he didn't really expect anything bigger.

The following morning, he found one of his textbooks that was left in class nailed to his desk with three nails piercing from halfway through the book down to the wood surface. Writings of the other student filled the pierced pages. As the textbooks were routinely submitted to the teacher for inspection, he was infuriated. The other student had gone to a new low - so he decided to get revenge.

One lunchbreak, he snuck into the classroom, took a similar textbook from the other student's bag, and outrightly tore every page in the book. He then left the tattered remains on the desk of his enemy.

After lunchbreak, the student waited for the other prankster to come in and find his book in shambles. And he did. Upon finding the book however, the other student just smiled and looked at the culprit. "Wow man, you sure overdid it this time," he replied. "Did I? I thought it was only fair."

"I guess so," replied the the other student as he shook his head. "But I think I won this round."

The prankster who tore the book became puzzled. "And why is that? You have no book anymore and we're required to submit it before the day ends."

"Actually I still do."

"O?" asked the prankster, feeling another trick coming, "and where is your book?"

"Nailed to your desk. I nailed my own book and put yours inside my bag."


Monday, July 23, 2007

And then there are things that are just not meant to be seen by the world. Like JFK's real killer. The Loch Ness monster. And this 6kb abomination of bits and bytes.

Newspaper Fund Drives

Saturday, July 21, 2007

A conversation I had earlier with author of the Philippine Rabbit reminded me of one the regular school fund raising practices of our time: Newspaper Fund Drives (NFD).

In case you're not from around, or if you're from a rich school, or if you belong to the new generation schools that have discarded this practice, NFD's are fund raising activities that rely on students bringing in as much recyclable paper as they can in the form of newspapers, magazines and other paper articles that will be sold to the junk shop for money that will be used for whatever purpose (usually outreach missions and Lindsay Custodio + AngTV kids concerts)

Done yearly, it's one of the few opportunities where students can try out a possible career option just in case they fuck up once too much in school: dyaryo-bote-garapa liason (i.e. basurero).

Anyway, I remember this being a problem when I was a kid since only 1 newspaper comes into our house everyday and I have two sisters who also need newspapers since their NFD's usually coincide with mine. Added to that problem, collection is EVERY week, and usually as incentives, teachers give hefty bonuses for people who are unable to bring newspapers. Here are some example bonuses that I have encountered for not being able to bring wads of paper to school:

- Getting assigned as cleaner for the whole week. If you're the only person who didn't bring newspapers, you're classroom janitor for 5 days.

- Minus points in the next Religion exam. I swear this happens a lot. Reasoning? Not helping raise funds is unchristian-like. I know, WTF.

- Getting fined ridiculous amounts of money, which goes to the class fund. (not the drive fund because money is equated to laziness, at least according to our teachers)

That given, the whole thing becomes less of a "bring stuff for a cause" and more of a "make sure you have enough for the duration of this activity or we're all dead" kind of thing.

Conservatives might argue that the point of the whole thing is for us to be "proactive" and start asking neighbors for newspapers. Sane people like me would reply that no amount of newspaper can top being called "basurero" by these neighbors and that those neighbors probably have kids that need newspaper as well.

And since I've had this kind of activity for 10 years, I've also come across (and made up some of my own) techniques to ensure survival during this time of need. Here are some of the more ingenious methods:

- Buy new newspaper on the way to school. This is actually a desperate move as it is expensive and the teacher is quick to notice that all of the newspapers you have are of the same date - the date that day. I've made it work several times, though I'd not recommend it as it drains your savings that you could've spent for arcade games.

- Buy newspapers from friends. Cheaper than the first technique. Years of NFD's resulted in people establishing a hidden underground economy of buying/selling newspapers before they get donated. I know people who actually bring to school more than enough newspapers just to resell them to people too lazy to bring their own (i.e. me) Prices tend to rise quickly as the fund drive progresses as paper becomes harder and harder to come by.

- Donate your own books. Not recommended. We have enough stupid people already. If you really need to, donate the book of some random classmate.

- Get from stash of the newspapers on the other classrooms or on your own (if unguarded) Since the school-wide collections of newspapers by the school occur only once every few weeks, all those newspaper ain't going nowhere after you submit them to your teacher, effectively turning classrooms into an arsonist's wet dream. It's often possible to just sneak into the stocks and just "redonate" some of them. Be warned though that teachers are familiar with this and they will try to use counter methods such as painting the sides of the newspapers RED as what happened once in my class.

None of those methods are fool-proof. In the end, what usually happens is that I end up buying from junkshops the newspapers that I will give the class adviser so the school can sell them to the same junkshops for profit. All because they think cash donations makes students lazy.

And then there's the mounds of newspapers. You can say they affected my learning through the years. Half of sex education I learned in school came from tabloid articles we managed to read through the years. (*cough* dearpeterxerexxaviera*cough*) Cooperative research by my definition involved scavenging nudie pics from tabloids and placing them strategically inside the book covers of my classmates for the teachers to find. Good stuff.

After a while, all that rotten paper stored inside classrooms will cause basic hygiene to degenerate followed by overall living conditions going slum-low. The teachers will then decide to sell the newspapers already (this event is usually preceded by a series of people falling sick from malaria or some shit you only get in very dense, dirty areas). Before selling, we usually moisten the newspapers.

I learned from NFD's that wet newspapers weigh much heavier than dry newspapers and the best way to apply it is using a spray can, to make sure it doesn't drip. Profit.

The junkyard vendors them drop by and ask us students to haul the shit they already bought into trucks like the junkyard boys we're supposed to be learning to become through that activity. And then I tell myself, "Why do I get the feeling that I'll be buying all these stuff again for next year?"

Chances are, one year after telling myself that, I probably did.

Quote Update

Friday, July 20, 2007

When you get to invent a machine that speeds up time, I bet using it for a prank is a joke that gets old really fast.

And perhaps she didn't know it at that time, as it was the last thing one would use to explain things, but when it came down to the rational laws, it would break down around her, except in how she saw things. In her eyes she was a speck, observing the world. Little did she know, she had already become the center of the universe.

Love - an excuse for the absence of reason.

Sometimes, all a flower needs for it to bloom is somebody who can tell how beautiful its blossom would be. That and shit.

It takes a big man to tell the truth, and a bigger man to make sure he does.

If you think you can read a person already, it's also possible that he's just a writer who likes to use his face for his latest story draft.

During days that you think your talent is too underutilized for your job, think of it this way: you're not THAT talented.

The first one always takes the largest share in many things, whether it's in love, in life, but probably not in mousetrap cheese.

Hope to enchant, aim to inspire.

If you tell me nobody ever dies of cold feet, you can go tell that ot the captain of the Titanic.

If God wanted us to work on Sundays, we'd have 9 commandments. (Or eight, if you strike out "thou shall not kill")

Work on a saturday is like sex during your girlfriend's period. It's possible, but not exactly recommended.

You're already the rarest of flowers. You just need to meet somebody who can make you realize that.

That guy's so smart/dumb, I asked him to step on the gas and he replied "the cohesive density can't hold my weight."

One problem of putting yourself down is that by doing so, you put down everybody who looks up to you.

One good thing about being a doormat is that you got dirt on everybody.

Youre pretending you still dont know because you think I dont know that you already know and for that same reason I pretend that I dont know, but in the end we all know already and pretend to not know. Dandy.

One real bad thing about writing your own stories is that you cant really fully appreciate the piece until youve forgotten completely about them. That given, it actually takes me years before I get to laugh at my own jokes.

When you ask God for warmth and he sends you rain, maybe that's just his way of saying you're too retarded and you might burn your own house down.

Sincerity is what a man can offer to a girl who already has everything.

It would kick ass to have "Goodman" for a surname. In my funeral they'd say "He was a Goodman." unconditionally.

There are only two ways to be continously happy in this world. That's to find joy in either the happiness or misery of others.

She had everything - grace, elegance, wit, wisdom, charm. She was at a state of near perfection with but one fault: she was the wind - nigh uncatchable, never settling down, forever a passing beaut and never to take root in the mortal realm.

You know youre in love when thoughts of intentions replace thoughts of consequences.

Again, all quotes in this post are my own words. They're not to be taken seriously, but if ever you find something useful for your own purpose, don't forget to mention my name or at the very least this site. It's not a quote if you don't mention who said it, right? Don't be stupid.

Ragnarok Online Fiction BackIssues

Thursday, July 19, 2007

I just got word that there's a chance RB will get wiped yet again. To avoid hassle, I've backed up my old (mostly unfinished) stories in alternative hosting locations. As a bit of service, I'm even putting a short descriptive about the backed up stories. (note: the only stories posted here are the ones that are in the ragnaboards, other stories can still be found in my fanfiction.net account)

Coversations Between A Novice and A GM (Season 1
) A non-graphic webcomic about a Game Master and a newbie talking about things to pass time after getting accidentally trapped inside an interrogation room. (complete)

Conversations Between A Novice and A GM (Jungle Sessions) The 2nd season follows the exploits of the 2 characters as they end up in yet another situation that forces them to stick together. (complete)

EVE of Ragnarok A fictional documentary account of the development, deployment and death of a sentient program living inside game servers. (semi complete, ending no longer in format)

The God Protocol
A story about two creators from rival families competing to create a "God" being. Co-written with Karasawa Rui (Incomplete)

Laro Ng Pagibig A story about a guy and his harem. Written in Filipino. Just for the heck of it. (Incomplete)

Wanted: Full Support Priestess The story of an RO character who accidentally ended up living in the real world. (Series complete.)

Don't ask if I'm still continuing all those unfinished items. I'm not sure either.

Harry Potter and The Deathly Hallows Outsourcing Quality Assurance

Dammnit, for the last time, J.K. Rowling will not allow Harry to turn into a radioactive ape so he can "peel Voldemort like a ripe banana."

Some F'ed Up SNES Game Concepts

Wednesday, July 18, 2007

There was a time when finding a topic for humor took painstaking hours of dedicated research and devotion to the art of subtly finding points of interest in daily life. Now, thanks to Google and Wikipedia, we only need a couple of seconds worth of searching and a sustained pulse to be able to find something to make fun of. Today we review the awesome gaming era of randomness that is the SuperNES and the grand hall of forgettables in the gaming world.

Captain Novolin - An action adventure game about diabetes

Let me ask you an honest question. Was there ever a day in your life that you woke up from your bed, as a kid, and thought, "Hmmm, I'm feeling adventurous today. I think I want to go play an adventure game about DIABETES!", was there? Me neither.

Seriously. I don't think I'm alone in saying there's nothing adventurous about Diabetes. If ever I'm going to buy this game, it's probably for a gift to mock somebody who has diabetes. But since even I don't go to levels that low for a good laugh (much), I'll probably never buy anything like this.

Phalanx - The Enforce Fighter A-144

Two words. Flying dildo. In this game, you make your way through the dark intricacies of the female genital universe, avoiding contamination, and ensuring every bit of your energy is spent in achieving the goal of any starship of your class - orgasm.

So maybe that wasn't really their idea when they made the game, but the game cover sure makes up for the lack of information. Maybe the artist had something else in mind, but then again why the fuck would a space ship that's meant for going through ranks and ranks of vile enemies be encased in transparent plastic? Yeah, I thought so too. For better lubrication.

Phalanx 2 - The Hyper-Speed Shoutout in space.

*Movie trailer voice* For forty years, Bubba Rogers was a redneck quietly living in a swamp. Then one day, aliens from outerspace and started "a'disruptin mah terreeehtoreeeh". Little did the aliens know, this was one backwater bog they should have never stepped into. Now, an all out war is looming and it's up to the unlikely hero to save the world. One man. One Banjo. 10 Gajillion aliens. A universe in crisis.

Phalanx 2.

AEROBIZ- As CEO, You Call The Shots.

Okay, I just have to let this one out first. Is it just me or does this look like a 9/11 movie scene? Nevermind. Anyway, this game puts you in the seat of this man, whoever he is. Premise of the game is "Why slave away your life as an office worker for money when you can do it for fun on the SNES?" To add to the challenge, we're going to place you in one of the worst industries to be in - the airline industry.

Make me play this game for one day straight and I'll be calling just one shot, preferably with a magnum, just to blow whatever's left of my brain out.

Three words: Crash and Burn.

Sonic Blast Man - The Arcade Hit

I remember the arcade game. You hit a punching bag and then depending on how strong you hit the bag, the story line shows either a good end or bad end. It's a fun game to play, or even watch, as overego'ed guys try to impress their dates and fail miserably by injuring themselves trying to hit higher than 121 points. (Don't ask how much I was able to produce when I rose up to the occasion)

Then there's the SNES game. From a game of punching bag kickassery, you get a sidescrolling game with the same character, Sonic Blastman. Aside from the name and the look of the hero, there's not much in common.

Scratch that. There's nothing else in common. If you're going to make a game about a game with the premise of saving the world by simulating punching things and you take away the "punching things" part, then youre missing the fucking point. Nobody wants to play the arcade game because the character is cool. It's the other way around the character is cool because the game is cool to play with.

Ditch this shit.

A Letter That Never Got Sent (part 2)

Tuesday, July 17, 2007

And it's funny, all these years, you were always throwing rocks and rotten fruit at me whenever I came near you. I thought you only did that because you hated my way of misreading things. Only now do I realize, that was your own way of trying to give me vitamins and minerals in a semi-retarded kind of way.


MRT Story

Monday, July 16, 2007

I checked the time, 9:43 in the evening - I can still make it, I thought. I made my way up the flight of stairs leading up to the station's ticket booth at a quickened pace. There's no queue in the booth - it seemed that I would be so lucky that day. I approached the lady behind the counter. "Vito Cruz po," I said, panting, pushing the 20 peso bill into the counter hole.

No response. She just stared at me. Was she stalling? I made it in time. She's not supposed to stop selling tickets yet. She blinked once. I waited for her reply. Slowly, she raised her left hand and pointed to the price charts.

I realized my mistake. "Ay syet, MRT nga pala to!" Stupid me. My mistake. I tried to hide my blush, but there wasn't much time. "Isang Taft na lang pala," I quickly segued, pushing the bill I instinctively retracted earlier.

Again, no response. Was she really stalling? There has to be something abrew. I already corrected myself. The last train was arriving in a few minutes. The lady blinked once. I waited for her reply. Slowly she positioned herself closer to the microphone. Was there a problem with the line? She looked at me and frowned.


Last time ever tried to ride the train intoxicated.


Friday, July 13, 2007

I think this is the first time I'm ever blogging about anything related to investment. I might as well make it about the most controversial one as of late. Unless you've been sleeping under a rock or just plain oblivious of the current state of affairs in your country (clue: kung naiintindihan mo ako, Pilipinas yun), you should know francswiss biz is the latest pyramiding scam to blow up, causing people (i.e. stupid sheep) almost 1 billion pesos in total investment according to the NBI.

Francswiss.biz works this way. You give them 50,000 pesos as investment and then, like a bank on steroids, they start cranking 4.5% interest PER DAY directly deposited to your bank account. A simple way of telling you this is they'll give you roughly 2,250 pesos worth of interest per day PLUS your initial investment of 50k when you decide to withdraw. That's roughly equivalent to a double your money in 25 days kind of event. To top this off, you also get additional money for every member you recruit. Awesome? You bet. Impossible? Damn straight. No fixed-fund investment ever returns that kind of growth unless you're investing in a kidnap for ransom gang (and even then, you can only go so far). This is where the dreams show its true form: a mechanical nightmare behind the scenes.

Where's the money coming from? The answer is in the last detail. "Every member you recruit." That means 50,000 for every new member worth of investment that can be turned into the 4.5% of the other investors (the earlier investors anyway). It's a good idea, until new members run out and there'll be no money left to pay the newer investors (or investors who want their money back) this is called the "point of collapse."

The money really isnt going anywhere other than the pockets of other people in exchange for basically the rights to rob others of their money. You can see why this is illegal. (If you can't, can I interest you in some Bahrain Dinars?)

And then it gets better.

I was browsing through PinoyExchange board and saw a thread about this "investment scheme" (read: scam). There was nothing new in the discussion, just people pointing out the obvious. And then there was somebody, let's just hide her name as Miss S.

Miss S advocates that these kinds of things are legitimate forms of making money. She knows it's a scam but that it's also a crude form of business. You gamble your money at the threat of collapse, you get money back and you can pull out anytime. Morality, she says is completely out of the question, as it's good potential if you know what you're doing and your only objective is money.

I swear, her fingers would be better justified doing handjobs than typing that advocacy of bullshit. First of all, a scam is a scam. Even if it's not your pet project, the scam you're riding is feeding off stupid people, not that I'm against stupid people being preyed on but these stupid people might be supporting potentially promising offspring (i.e. genetic freaks of nature that transcend the idiocy of their parents) that could do this country good by being educated, fed and clothed (maybe not clothed for everyone, the uglier ones anyway).

A scam is a crime. By riding it, you're being an accessory - specially when you have full knowledge of what's going on. At this point, there's no longer a question of morality here. Remember, God can only forgive sins - not felonies.

Think of pyramiding scams as riots. They're basically illegal, start out of nowhere and it's very easy to join. Sure, you can easily get away with looting during one and it's easy to shrug away the moral aspect but that doesn't change the fact where you're getting your income from. Doesn't matter what you're doing the crime for - you're committing a goddamn crime. Any justification is just excuse.

Riding pyramid scams isn't business. It's plain robbery.

There are more honest ways to earn money. Don't be a fucktard like Miss S.

Random Captions

Okay, so here's how it works. I got a random picture off the net and asked myself and several people to write dialogue that would make the picture uhh... LOL-worthy. Here's a list of what I was able to gather this morning:

Angel: "I guess they didn't mention about the thorns in the book of Genesis huh?"

Angel: "So you saw redkinoko naked, why are you OVERREACTING?"

Angel: "Didn't I warn you not to watch Equilibrium?"
Girl: "So that's what hell is like!"

Angel: "Just kidding. It's a gun, just my finger. Gotcha."


Angel: "You know, it wouldn't be as painful if you wore Adidas(tm)." (by Kat)

Girl: "Pagkabilang ng tatlo nakatago na kayo. Isa... dalawa... " (by Kat)

Angel: "Wanna hear a spoiler? Harry Potter dies." (by Marco)

Angel: "Johnny Walker: Keep Walking." (by Marco)

Angel: "I'm here to help you-"
Girl: "Oh God, the happy! The happy! It BURNS!" (by Addy)

Angel: "Hey baby, miss me?"
Girl: "When will you get that it was just a ONE-NIGHT STAND?"
(by Addy)

Angel: "What troubles you?"
Girl: "I'm pregnant with your child."
Angel: "You do realize I have no genitals?"
Girl: "Why do you think I'm so freaked out?"
(by Addy)

Angel: "Global warming will get you! (lol)"

Angel: "That oughta cure you. It worked on Tobit's dad..."

Angel: "That's okay, maybe Bumblebee will turn into a Volkswagen in the sequel..."

And of course my personal favorite (NSFW):

"Bukkake bullseye, LOL."


Thanks to everybody who contributed (well, more like got extorted for answers but thanks anyway). If you got better ideas, post them in the comments. I'm sure we'd all want to hear about it. More random picture/comments next Friday (if I remember ever writing this).

Weird Stuff

Thursday, July 12, 2007

Now I don't know how much has to happen before I can say my day is weird but I think it's pretty say to say that when a guy in a motorcycle wearing face makeup, baggy clothes, a full wig, and clownshoes (i.e. in a full clownsuit!) overtakes you in traffic, that already constitutes as a clear crossing of the proverbial "weird day" line. How the hell does he even go about riding in a motorbike with shoes that big? They're like extra sidemirrors attached his feet or something.

One theory I have as to why he dressed up before riding the bike to wherever he's going and not just put on his costume when he gets there is that he's doing it to exempt himself from the law. See, he wasn't wearing a helmet. Riding without a helmet is a punishable thing in this country (and in many other countries where road accidents that cause brains to be scattered on the pavement are frowned upon)

Let's say a policeman gets over the initial shock of seeing Boyoyong speeding along without a helmet. He pulls him over. He can then ask why the clown isn't wearing any helmet. At this point Boyoyong can give the following reason:

I get shot out of cannonballs, rammed by bulls (if he happens to be spanish), smashed with steel chairs (if he happens to be named Doink), get more pies in the face than any other professional and you're asking why I'm not wearing a helmet?!

The cop can either buy the joke or give him a ticket. If he does think of giving him a ticket, he'll be forced to report back to the precinct about it. Giving a clown a ticket - for riding a bike without a helmet. He'll probably be the laughing stock of the yard after that. Chances are, he'll decline and just hit the clown in the nads for spite.

Eitherway, the clown goes free.

I'm not sure if that's the most brilliant or the most insane thing I've ever seen on the road. One thing I can safely say though, sans the attributed danger of doing that sort of thing, FUCKING AWESOME.

April O'Neil is hot.

Wednesday, July 11, 2007

Foreword (skip this if you like skipping stuff that begins with "fore")

I grew up in the late 80s and early 90s, a time when cableTV is still nonexistent in our hood, internet porn was yet to become available to the common man, and we only had about 7 channels to choose from (two of them were owned by the government and were therefore filled with nothing but shit). On these few channels, they were able to air some cartoons and those programs were practically the only things I watched on TV.

It is only natural kids growing up in the same setup as me, find certain characters from these shows more appealing than others. Because of this, there will be a series of Public Static articles featuring characters from Saturday Morning-type shows (type, because most of these cartoons were aired in our country at times other than saturday mornings but Americans call them that anyway so we'll use the more general term).
In this first article, I'd like to focus on April O'Neil from Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.

A lot of things we learned as kids we learned from the TV. This includes distinguishing good vs evil (good people emit blue lasers when firing guns, bad people emit red), basic life facts (living in trashcans make you grouchy and covered with green crap) etc. Of course, it is also through the TV we start finding out what we guys wanted in life (read: chicks).

Case in point: April O'Neil. That's right, the yellow-jumpsuit wearing reporter from The Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. I'll tell you now what I thought of her with my prepubescent mind from more than 15 years ago: HOT.

Okay, so maybe the jumpsuit's a bit out of place for a reporter's outfit. I mean, when was the last time you saw a reporter in a jumpsuit, and a yellow one at that? Probably never. But that's just cool anyway because as a kid, that just made her extra "rad" (since we're talking about the early 90s here, I might as well use words that only existed at aroudn that time period).

Here's my short analysis why April O'Neil is awesome than most girls we know even today:

- She likes pizza. Okay, so maybe it's the turtles that like the pizza, but she hangs around them a lot and she never asks for anything else. You don't hear her yammering about calories and toxins and other minor stuff like carcinogens. She just eats. End of story.

- April doesn't mind hanging out in a sewer. Let's face it, cleaning is a bitch - megabitch if you're a guy. And if April can stomach hanging out in an underground lair by a river literally flowing with garbage and shit, she'll find a typical guy's room more than comfortable.

- April doesn't mind you walking around naked (or wearing a pink Kimono, whichever you think is worse). I don't know if that's a good benchmark of being a liberal girlfriend but I assure you it's one feature I'd appreciate for those particularly hot summer days...

- April O'Neil finds green-skinned bald guys with no jobs, schooling, or even a nose attractive. If that's not a standard you can pass with flying colors, you seriously need some reevaluation as to what you've become (exception is if you're a large talking brain sitting in the stomach of a white guy)

- April O'Neil can make walking around in a yellow Jumpsuit hot. Ask any of your girlfriends to wear that bananasuit and they'd probably fail at it. To sum it up: April is hot and anything she wears, she makes it hot (like, nothing)

She's hot because there's nobody out there like her. Or maybe there is, but like good parking space, she's probably taken (by a mutant turtle, assumingly) and you'd be forced to take one leagues away from her or one for the disabled.

If ever you see a hot reporter hanging out in the sewers with a bunch of deformed morons, you're probably be in heaven.

To borrow Robotman's words, Cowabunga. Cowabunga that girl in my secret lair all night long.

My Definition of A Good Day

Tuesday, July 10, 2007

Today is a good day. Let us speak of nothing ill or bitter.

My Definition of A Bad Day

Monday, July 09, 2007

Serious mode again.

For those of you who've been around long enough you might remember a little article about having my phone stolen. One year since that event, it almost happened again. I'm writing th is article because I know I'm bound to forget this night very soon, just like the other time, and the only way I can remember is by writing it down here. Maybe you can learn a thing or two as well if you read.

The attempted mugging happened around 845pm. I boarded a Baclaran-bound jeepney at the corner of Pedro Gil and Taft Avenue. I always went home with my officemate Billy and tonight was no exception. Upon boarding, I sat at the left side of the Jeep with Billy to my right and we casually talked. After a few minutes, another guy boarded and sat beside me. Effectively I already had somebody to my left and my right.

After the jeepney stopped at the next corner (I can't remember the name of the street), around 6 guys started boarding. One of the guys wearing cargo pants ran to my side and pushed the guy to my left. It's important to note that I noticed that they boarded in almost military-like fashion, they knew to well where to sit. Normally when you ride a jeep you start measuring where there's still space, these guys didn't even so much as stop to look.

I began to notice that the man in front of me was eyeing me once too often. The guy to my left side on the other hand was already raising serious red flags by squeezing himself between me and the guy to his right (there was a spot on the right side of the jeepney). At this point I remember the last pickpocketing that happened to me. I remembered the feeling - he was invading my private space a few inches too much for comfort. What I did next was instinctive. I placed my left hand beside me and the guy in the cargo shorts. I started wishing I was just paranoid.

Then he noticed my hand. I noticed he looked at it and he looked at me. I turned away. He took his cellphone out of the cargopockets. Nobody places cellphones in the cargo pockets of shorts - walking around will slam with with your knees. My suspicions deepen. He unlocked the nokia and then locked it again, then he put it back on the pocket. I felt his hand brush against my protective hand when he got the phone and when he returned it. Instinct told me the moment my hand retracted, I'll lose my phone.

The guy shoved his body nearer and told me "alisin mo yang kamay mo, nakakasikip." The guy in front of me looked a bit too edgy. I retracted it a bit and placed my hand in my pocket. it no longer protruded but it effectively blocked his way of slashing or pickpocketing without me noticing.

Then, he took out coins in his pocket. I've seen this modus operandi already, not to mention my other officemate, owner of Macuha.com has already experienced it before. I almost predicted what was to happen next.

One of the coins fell, not surprisingly enough, under my legs. The seat had plywood perpendicular to the floor so it was impossible for the coin to go under my seat, nonetheless it was under my feet. The guy commanded me to retrieve the coin. I said "Asan?"

"Sa ilalim mo!" he said, very interested in how I'd react. Too interested. I didnt take my hand off from my left pocket but bent down. I knew if I got that coin with my left, my pocket would expand enough for a snatch but my right was too out of the way to be used. I said I couldnt see it. At this point even the man in front of me was persistent that I get the coin. My friend Billy shoved the coin out of the blind position so I was able to get it with my right hand.

Strangely enough, the guy to my left still persisted that I get the coin even after I already got it. Force of habit perhaps? I showed the coin to him using my right hand "Eto na nga o!"

At that point he knew I knew what he was up to and he was pissed. "Tangina ang gulo mo, sapakin kita eh!" he said. I waited for his next move. At this point he was almost kicking me out of the seat.

Then, Billy stepped in "Tara na baba na tayo," he said. I couldn't agree more. Hell, even the guy to my left was agreeing "Onga bumaba na kayo!" He knew with us around he'd risk compromising his gig - but there were six of them, so we just got off at the next stop.

The jeep stayed for a while after we got off. I'm more than sure the driver is aware of what was happening and was waiting for the six to get off, but they didn't so he had no choice to move on. After seeing the jeep move on, I inspected my belongings - all intact.

HOLY SHIT, I told myself. I just saved myself 15k and two months of rebuilding my contacts.


I'm not saying I handled things very well but this could happen to anybody. I'm writing this so I can remember and you can get a clue. Be alert. Be paranoid.

Welcome to the Philippines, the only Christian Country in Asia.
Beware of pickpockets.

Game of The Week: Pokemon Pearl

alternative title: A game with a really ridiculous premise that's eating my time.

I remember the very first time I played Pokemon. It was 1998. Erap was in Malacañang. I was in highschool. I think the real reason why I got around to playing this game was that at some point in my life as a student, I was so bored out of my wits I'd try anything that didn't end me up dead or in jail. I got an emulator from the internet, the accompanying roms, and used my 0.1GHZ computer to load up "Pokemon Red".

Basic premise of the story of Pokemon Red is that you're a kid tasked by a professor to adventure around a world populated by animals called pokemon, making friends with some of these magnificent creatures and entirely grow with them by learning all about this new world while at the same time being the best in training your very own pokemon.

Okay. That's the sanitized version of it.

Here's the lowdown: You're a prepubsecent youth who one day encounters a strange old man who calls himself "Professor Pokemon" (a name that should already send serious red flags when given a realworld context) and he gives you a strange animal called a pokemon in exchange for running away from home to collect more "pokemon" by imprisoning them in small capsules called pokeballs that can be anything but comfortable to stay in. There are roughly 150 types to capture, assuming you have that much balls.

You will use these pokemon you captured to fight your way through hoards of wild pokemon who probably want you dead more than anything (clue: it's because they hate being imprisoned in your pokeballs). Think using cockfighting to save your life. From wild cocks. Hordes of them hiding in the grass, waiting for you to pass by.

Throughout your journey, "poketrainers" will challenge you with money at stake. If you win, you get to rob them of money (and quite possibly dignity, citation needed) and vice versa. Again, think using cockfights to save yourself from highway robbers.

To prove you are a really amazing "poketrainer" you have to go to gyms, which are basically fraternities of poketrainers that you have to beat up with your enslaved animals. Once you beat everybody inside their base including the leader, you get a badge reminiscent of a boyscout badge. Kinda like certifications for cockfighting. "Senior Sabongero Expert" etc.

Towards the end you get to save the world from an evil organization who is hell bent in ruling the word by, wait for it -




using Pokemons!

I'm not sure how. I'm not really into finding out, but you have to defeat these bad dudes by winning cockfights erm pokebattles against them. I'm not sure how that'll stop somebody though but I never really got that far in the game.

That's the long and short of it. To sum up the premise it's basically a cockfighter roleplaying game for kids.

2,213,342,123.24 sequels later comes Pokemon Pearl. A quick glance at the game tells you it's still the same game with slightly different factors (like names and there are now 400++ pokemon types to enslave) and you'd think it probably took a programmer 5 minutes to create this latest incarnation of Pokemon (3 minutes to think of the title)

I'm not sure why this is a kid's game. I'm not even sure why I have it loaded in my DS. Maybe it's the badges. Maybe it's the fixation to "catch 'em all".

Or maybe I'm just bored of my fucking wits.

Yeah, that.

Transformers The Movie

Sunday, July 08, 2007

alternate title: Mighty Morphing Power Robots From Outerspace (And Mars)

Okay. So this article is a bit late. I was on vacation. Deal with it. Actually, I was prepared to not watch the whole thing on cinema anymore but then again, having to live my life with every other person I talk to opens or end conversations with "have you seen Transformers?" and not have a clue what to say other than "Yeah, cool" doesn't sound very appealing on a conversational point of view.

So there I was, in the Cinema. My actions for the duration of the movie can be summarised into two bullet points:

- Screaming "HOLY SHIT! That was AWESOME"
- Waiting for more moments to scream "HOLY SHIT! That was AWESOME!"

The sensation was inexplicable, at least, for the duration of the movie. Only after watching did I realize what gave me that effect (along with nausea I last experienced after watching SpyKids 3d, regrettably, in the big screen - but that's for anther tale.)

Two things made this flick three times cooler than it is:

- Very very loud sound effects. (see: Saving Private Ryan soundfx)
- Cameramen who shoot like they're in continous orgasm (see: Saving Private Ryan cinematography).

I can only name a handful of scenes when the robots were shown moving and the camera was still. Sure it added some element of connection to the audience but when viewers are spending half the time wondering which part of robot they're seeing it's possible you're doing it TOO MUCH.

And maybe I'm just exaggerating, but sound from the theater beside ours was seeping into the soundproof chamber because of the volumes they had to use for the movie. But then again, it's an action flick so yeah, it's okay.

In all fairness, the movie is groundbreaking in a sense that a lot of newer military artifacts were shown on film for the first time. The IED-proof Personnel Carrier, F22 Raptors, the recon robot Predator - all these were shown on screen for the first time (with a bit of altering of course). But that's just for the military fanboy in me talking.

Storywise, it was pretty straightforward, like the 80s cartoons. Good vs evil, good triumphs, fin. Several sidestories were added to keep things from drowning in overtestosterone (see: The 300 plot) and yeah, they were good distractions.

Now, on to the robots. Here's the short version of what's the follow: Where are the original Transformers?

Sure, I understand that you have to make things slightly more realistic than a 20-ton robot transforming into a handgun but other than details like that, I don't see why they had to change everything beyond the point of recognition (add extra vibrating camera and you get what I mean)

Case in point: Optimus Prime. He's already a trailer with a very different look when transformed, WHY CHANGE THE PAINTJOB? Is it because the red and blue is not "extreme" enough so you have to add sticker flames? Here's an idea. Next time we make a movie about George Washington, lets make him black and give him semiautomatics so he's more "badass".

Bottomline: If you're making a movie about an 80s cartoon and you cant be bothered with details like making the movie appear anything near the cartoon: You're missing the point.

Okay okay, so some parts actually look like the cartoon. Shia Lebeuf (spelling I've given up on) actually looks like Bumblebee's human friend.

Overall, the movie, as I have screamed out so many times during the showing, is awesome. You still cant beat that formulaic level of special effects mixed with nostalgia. I enjoyed the movie, but maybe less as an incarnation of the old Transformers but more of a new movie franchise loosely based on the old ones. Franchise, because everybody knows until Optimuz Prime starts having children, Michael Bay will continue churning sequels (see: Pirates of The Carribean, Shrek, Little Mermaid, Zorro, Lion King)

As a closing note, I just want to say one thing:


Missing Link :)

Friday, July 06, 2007

Actually I just dont have anything to place here right now. Have some documentary from our last trip to Palawan. :)

Fantasy Chat: Tree Afterlife

Thursday, July 05, 2007

One of the most interesting "fantasy" conversations I'd like to hear is the type of chat trees would be having in the afterlife. I understand of course that trees cannot talk and there's very little chance that they have the same concept of afterlife as us but what the heck - I'm sure it's interesting enough, specially when they start talking about how they died and for what purpose they died.

Here's how I think it would go:

Tree #1: What's up man?
Tree #2: I got killed, that's what.
Tree #3: 'Sall part of they cycle man.
Tree #2: Easy for you to say, I didn't like the way I died.
Tree #1: And why's that? A lot of trees die without ever getting used for anything. You're in tree heaven which means you did something good upon dying.
Tree #2: I'm not sure about that.
Tree:#3: So where'd your stuff end up?
Tree #2: ...
Tree #1: Aww come on man, it can't be that bad. Me, I ended up being magazine paper.
Tree #2: Not bad. At least you made people more intelligent and entertained.
Tree #1: FHM Magazine.
Tree #2: Oh.
Tree #1: I don't think I can face my mother after learning parts of me recieved the wrong type of fluid coming out of a treecutter's wang. Piss yes. Sticky sap - NO.
Tree #2: Still, FHM is a pretty popular magazine. So much so they even mention us when reading it. "I got wood." see?
Tree #3: Yeah.
Tree #1: It was the Pops Fernandez issue.
Tree #3: God damn that sucks.
Tree #2: Wow, that's amazingly unlucky.
Tree #1: Still, it's a grace compared to my friend here.
Tree #3: Yeah.
Tree #2: Why, what happened to you man?
Tree #3: Chair. Not even intelligent shit.
Tree #2: Chairs are used for a very long time. Isn't that cool?
Tree #3: Not really. It actually depends on what chair you are.
Tree #2: What kind of chair were you?
Tree #3: Presidential chair.
Tree #2: And that's a bad thing because...
Tree #3: Right chair, wrong presidency.
Tree #2: Which was...
Tree #3: 13th. Erap sat on me.
Tree #2: XD
Tree #3: God damn that bitch was fat. Everytime he sat down I felt my wood creak even in the afterlife.
Tree #2: Still, you're pretty fucking famous, being the chair of a president who never finished sitting in Malacañang.
Tree #3: I forgot to mention he never washes his balls.
Tree #2: Okay, okay, sucks to be you too.
Tree #2: *Sigh*
Tree #1: I dont get it. Why are you still fucking down?
Tree #2: I'd still want to trade places with you guys.
Tree #3: And that's because...
Tree #2: I'm too embarassed to tell what happened.
Tree #1: What the fuck man. I had Pops' 40+ year-old cleavage printed on me.
Tree #3: And I had to put up with royally sweaty balls.
Tree #2: Yeah, that. But I -
Tree #1: Just spill it already.
Tree #2: Okay okay.
Tree #3: What happened to your wood then?
Tree #2: tissue paper.
Tree #1: You fucked up.
Tree #3: Quite fucking true. Seriously.

So the next time you use any kind of wood-based products, think of the tree that died for that purpose. And think of his feelings in Tree heaven when he looks down on you (literally and figuratively) as you wipe that shit-crusted ass of yours with tissue paper. (Also, don't buy the Pops Fernandez FHM issue, if possible so it won't happen again)

Palawan Randomness

Wednesday, July 04, 2007

- El Nido means "the nest". This is a very little known fact, even among its residents. It is named after the famous edible nests that are built by birds native to the place on the place's high cliffs. If in case you go there, do keep in mind that not all nests are edible as some may deceptively look like bird's nests but are instead common bat shit.

- And no, El Nido was not named after the milk powder. If you want to really know the relationship, Nestle, makers of Nido uses the logo of a nest. Nido means nest. So there.

- Learn to appreciate the small things. If the fish that you see while snorkeling are small, live with it. Remember that when those colourful coral fish are large enough for your tastes, they're also large enough for sharks. And so are you.

- Two facts: Dolphins outside amusement parks do exist and dolphins do exist here in the Philippines. Not all dolphins respond to the call "Hey Flipper!", contraryu to what that motherfucker Elijah Wood showed us in the mid 90s.

- Palawan is actually a big place. The capital Puerto Princesa is actually six hours away from El Nido through one of the most insane roads to travel around this time of the year. When wet, huge sections of the road turn into soft clay that are less like roads and more like batter for your shrimp tempura. Fog often reduces visibility to zero and the sudden changes of road angles sends your vehicle flying and crashing into the dirt/mud every now and then. If you are planning on going to El Nido to relax, take the goddamn plane. Seriously.

- El Nido is still on of the most beautiful places on earth. Every man able should at least visit the place once in his life. But you know what's also beautiful? Jessica Alba naked. For this case, I'm the only person deserving of the privelage of seeing her in that state.

- When somebody comes home from the beach, it is not necessary to mention "umitim ka". First of all, nobody ever goes to a beach and ends up whiter than before unless they kind of drowned or died by some other means. Next, you'd think the guy who owns the aforementioned skin already knows by now the tanned condition. No shit, sherlock.

- I'm tried. Bukas na lang ulit.

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