Pool's Closed, 2 Years Later

The title of this story is a followup reference to two articles I wrote a few years back about my cramp-inducing exciting adventures swimming in Hong Kong.

Here.
And here.

To be fair to myself, I swam also between 2008 and now, but not as often as I did back then. That was the case at least until I discovered two months ago, thanks to my new officemates, that there is in fact a pool in the Army Gym, and that their required attire does not include combat boots.


So anyway, Tuesdays and Thursdays, I swim there after office hours, or during the cases that I have to return to office to work after, "during" office hours. Actually, I can personally attest that you are mentally at your sharpest right after doing exercise - up to just before sitting down in front of your computer - afterwhich your brain goes on strike, says "Fuck it." and then proceeds to notify every muscle of your body to go nappy time.

I think I'm doing progress though. I'm happy to report that I am now able to surpass my previous par of four laps easily, and without having to cheat myself by losing count somewhere during the third lap, or stop midway and pretend that I'm adjusting my goggles when in fact, I'm trying to convince my lungs that continuing for another 20 meters will not, in fact, kill me.

So far, I've already managed to practice on the three types of breast stroke. The fast breast stroke, the slow breast stroke, and the breast stroke where the breast is not mine to stroke (just kidding. my gf is reading this).

My next target is freestyle, which I admit, I never really fully mastered. It did not help that I discovered the wonders of breaststroke at a young age, which encourages, if not flat out forces you to become a lazy swimmer. Experts in swimming strokes may strongly disagree, but I feel that I am their equal, as I myself am an expert in breasts. (just kidding again. my gf is reading this).

Actually this article is somewhat pointless for you guys, I just wanted to banter on about swimming. This is mainly for myself, five years on, when I've forgotten that I wrote this article. This is to remind myself that sometime in the past, I dreamed big. I sailed towards my dreams.

And I kept sinking like the frigging Titanic.

Salt Movie Review: Movie Static

Salt is an action movie that combines the fast-paced thrill of the original Jason Bourne and the sexiness of Angelina Jolie, who as far as our movie experience goes, can try to look like a man so many times and still look erotic while doing it, turning every straight guy in the audience kind of gay little by little deep down inside. While the movie paled in performance next to Nolan's behemoth blockbuster Titanic 2 Inception, it's a nicely made movie that just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

The main movie plot is about a CIA agent named Evangeline Salt (Angelina Jolie) who gets identified by a Russian turncoat (some actor who isnt Angelina and can't be bothered to be identified) as an assassin out to kill the Russian president (Some guy in a toupe who slightly resembles Donald Trump). Themes of the trigger-happy cold war aggression between Russia and America is pervasive throughout the movie. Funny thing is that would have been interesting had Salt been released, oh I don't know, maybe 20 YEARS AGO BACK WHEN THE COLD WAR WAS STILL RELEVANT. But then again, who can hate a good Cold-war themed story? I mean apart from the Russians that always get the business end of the plot hammer, who doesn't?


Dialogue is kept basic, to almost a neanderthal level. To be fair, it's slightly more intelligent than The Last Airbender, whose lines at times felt like they came from a "Basic English Phrases" book. Anyway, for Salt's case at least, it doesn't matter all that much. That's the thing about action movies. They're almost like porn. Whether or not lines are long or short don't really matter, since the action more than carries the story, and the audience most of the time can't care less. A picture is worth a thousand words, and pictures of explosions are worth a thousand explosive words.

Acting for the most part is hardly memorable. While Jolie wasn't acting horribly, she wasn't exactly doing an Oscar winning performance either. (Not that she needed to. I bet they could make a movie of her walking around for two hours in various states of undress and it will still beat most other movies that get released along with it.) The Russians were, for the most part, like fleshed out stereotypes - vodka, rough raspy voice, half drunken look, and heavy accents. I'd say it's horrible and racist too if I didn't find it entertaining.

The best aspect of Salt is probably the storytelling. Salt takes the action movie and strips it down to its core, leaving barely any setup time. This is to make room for scenes that turns the movie into a single cut 2-hour long scene with more action than a hotel during prom night. And like prom night, we're not really complaining. Each scene keeps you at the edge of your seat, and the twists although slightly predictable, were nicely executed. The pacing became so fast for most of the movie that when the movie ended, we actually thought we were just in the first hour mark. Verily watching the movie had us thinking for one thing:

More Salt please.

Kabab Roll: A Fastfoodista Review

Exotic does not always have to mean expensive. Expensive, likewise, does not always mean authentic. Last Saturday, together with my GF, we were able to discover a gem-of-a-shop hidden in plain sight that gave us the awesome experience of Pakistani cuisine at more than reasonable prices.

Kabab Roll is a Pakistani food stall in Mall of Asia that offers Hindustani food minus the usual "exotic ambiance" gimmicks that're just an excuse to jack viand prices up without adding anything to the taste of the food (We're looking at you, Prince of Jaipur and your fancy carpets). Located in the middle of the main thoroughfares of Mall of Asia, Kabab Roll is as authentic as you can get. The food you will be eating is Pakistani street food so eating it outdoors and in public adds an unexpected flavour to your meal - just like how they do it in Karachi.

People often mistake the place as one of those typical faux-shawarma stands which invaded our country some 14 years ago and never really left. We really have too many of those, honestly, and none of them seem to get the shawarma right. Anyway, upon closer inspection though you will notice three things:

1. They have a charcoal open grill, a chapati tabletop fryer, and even a mini tandoor oven inside the small stall of theirs.
2. The guy cooking, or at least one of the guys cooking is actually Pakistani (although admittedly, I instinctively thought he's indian)
3. Lots of indians eating in the shop.

Now, I won't claim I'm an expert in authenticity, but my rule of thumb when it comes to these things is that the level of authenticity is directly proportional to the number of foreign nationals eating there. I won't say, for example, that Chowking is authentic, because I don't see hardcore Chinese eating there. (your Filipino-chinese friend doesn't count. I'm talking about the no-english/no-tagalog Chinese who usually just hang around Ongpin/Binondo) The time we ate there, I was able to count at least five Pakistani nationals, in three seperate groups.

Also, the cook was sweating.

See, my dad always told me if a guy making your shawarma or Chutni is sweating, it's bound to taste better, if not just saltier. While it sounds like a joke, there's also the more practical basis that if a guy is sweating, that means he's a dedicated cook, or the demand is high - or both. For our case, the guy who prepared our food looked like he could singlehandedly end the water crisis - if we're prepared to drink desalinated water.

To give you a short background on what you can eat there, Pakistani cuisine is like a lovechild of spice-crazy Indian dishes and the no-frills goodness of Arabic gastronomy. Meat is usually prepared with deep spice marination so that every square inch of any meat is tasty. Spiciness is moderate to heavy, although tolerable by my low standards (and by low standards I mean I sweat when I eat KFC hotshots) The main filler of Pakistani food is Basmati Rice, which is the class A GRO version of the usual rice, in a sense that it's twice as tall, mouth-wateringly tasty and non-sticky. They also have the indian version of the Pita, which is the Pratha, a lightly fried unleavened bread mixed with light curry powder and milk, which is already a meal in itself. Kabab Roll does not have the Basmati rice when we visited, although my previous experience with the rice has left nothing but fond memories (which is totally unlike my experiences with GROs, which is nonexistent. If you're reading this, Anna, I swear.)

Here's a basic rundown of what we were able to try out during our visit:

Beef Behari Chatni Roll- The Chatni Roll is the shawarma/burrito of hindustani cooking. This version has white garlic sauce in it, kebab-style cooked beef and lightly fried pratha bread. The owner claims that this is their best seller, and understandably so. Unlike the shawarma that relies on the taste of the sauce to carry the flavour, the chatni's strength is drawn from the strong flavour of the meat mixing with the natural sweetness of the pratha flour. The garlic sauce only exists to smoothen out the taste. The chatni is midly spicy, although I personally found myself consuming half a mineral water for the first two bites. (75 pesos)

Beef Sheekh Kabab - The beef seekh kabab is beef barbecue marinated with a multitude of spices that almost disables my tongue from comprehending how the marinade was created. One thing I can confirm though is it has the sweet kind of curry flavor that sinks deep into the meat's juicy insides. The flavor of this dish is so strong, your mouth will retain the taste long after you've eaten, which is great if you want the experience to stick with you for a long time, but not so great if you hate having to brush your teeth three times (80 pesos + Pratha (20 pesos))

Chicken Tikka/ Chicken Green Tikka - This dish was the last that we ordered from the stall, and honestly we thought that we'd get just a stick of each, since that's how they serve Chicken Tikka in the Shawarma Snack House. In Kabab Roll, the chicken tikka is served as quarter chicken with a side dish of vegetables. Tad on the salty side, I said to myself I'd kill to be able to eat this with Basmati rice. The chicken is marinated in spices and yogurt and cooked in a stone oven called the Tandoor oven, whose temperatures can get high enough to melt cast iron - the result is tender roasted chicken that closely resembles Chicken Inasal without the oversalty flavour that I really hate in the Bacolod counterpart. The green tikka is the non-spicy version, while the spicy version, which my GF ordered, proved to be too spicy for her, which is probably the first time it's happened. Anyway, if you're sensitive to spice, stay way from the Chicken Tikka and order the Green Tikka instead. (120 pesos + Pratha (20 pesos))

Overally, Kabab roll is an awesome restaurant that offers the masses a chance to eat exotic food that's neither a cop out (like the fake shawarmas that are floating around) nor too expensive (like Arya. Maaan, fuck Arya). Located in the east wing of Mall of Asia, right beside Fully Booked, it's a must visit for everybody looking to snack on something new.

Cupcakes

She smiled sheepishly and accepted the cupcakes from where she lay. She clutched them close to her bosom like a child and nodded her thanks. Her sunken, watery eyes tried hard to hide embarrassment while she carefully wrapped them with her shawl. I gave a slight laugh and told her that it was nothing to fuss about, but she shook her head. Her kids would love the cupcakes, she told me. She used to give them cupcakes whenever she could during her youth and they'd be all too happy to have them.

I got the chance to look at her one more time. Beyond her seasoned, failing body and beyond face thickened by years of weariness, I thought she must've been beautiful once. In her eyes, I saw one that would have been afraid of seeing herself in a mirror as a had-been beauty. Time and fate has robbed what little life had given to her, and between hers and my time seemed an eternity of living. Yet, here we were, from two different worlds in an instant that we would have our paths crossed.

I looked around us. There were no children nearby and it wouldn't have made sense for her children to be so young as to find delight in cupcakes. I thought for a while if she was referring to grandchildren. Surely, it would have been more fitting. But there was nobody else that day. It was just the two of us, and the foreboding loneliness brought about the constant downpour of rain outside. Children? I asked her. She said yes, and looked at the pastries again. I waited for her to take at least one of them and eat but she had the look of somebody who's excited to give rather than receive. It pulled a heartstring to think that she would not be able to eat what I had for her, while it moved me as much at the thought that even at her condition she'd still think of others.

She looked at me and asked for one more favor. I held her fragile, earthen hands. Anything that she fancies, I'd give. She wept quietly like a lost child, brushed her tears with the back of her thumbs. I placed my hand over her whitened hair, as I would my son when he's scared. She looked at me with pleading eyes.

Her time will come soon, she tells me, and it's something she's already decided to she'd look forward to. She says this with conviction. To her it sounded like gospel truth.

I felt sorry for her, but somehow, I can see much reason in her voice. I bent closer and held her faintly whisper the one last favor she asked from me:

"When I die, please keep these beside me. I'd like my children to be happy to see their mother again in heaven."

Inception Ending Explanation

Here's a short and sweet explanation of the ending of Inception. Unlike my last post, this one will contain spoilers about the plot. Feel free to disagree.

The first thing we have to do to fully understand the movie is to try to count the levels of dreams in the main story arc of the movie. Here they are as seen from the movie:

1. Real life
2. Kidnapping scenario
3. Hotel scenario
4. Mountain scenario
5. Limbo

However, for the topmost layer, things also have to be considered:

1. The Cobol Engineering mcguffin was mentioned only in the first 20 minutes of the movie. For a company that's supposed to be so threatening, aside from the chase somewhere in Africa, they've played such a minor role.

2. Moll (the wife) mentioned in fact that the real life scenario is a bit too idealistic to be real. Working for a secretive company, getting chased around and shot at with no real consequences (more on this later), and the general barely elaborated presentation of events in real life (there were more scenes in other dream levels than real life actually).

3. Moll was so convinced that there is another layer to the dream. While it's possible that she's wrong, it's also possible that she's right, and from the last conversation in limbo, it almost seems that she was just trying to bring up the idea that he has to, in fact, wake up already.

So if the ending with the totem stopping from spinning is a good ending, it will still make more sense to have the totem continuously spinning as a better ending.

There will be three layers instead:

1. Real life
2. Movie-like scenario
3. Kidnapping scenario
4. Hotel scenario
5. Mountain scenario
6. Limbo

And Moll will be there waiting for our hero to wake up. :)

One last note:
Why is it that Ken Watanabe recognized the faces of the people who entered his dream, but their main target could not?

Spoiler Free Inception Review

If you want a very quick summary of how I felt about the movie, try to look at the timestamp of this post. Very few movies warrant reviews and recommendations from me, and even fewer get recommended at two in the morning.

Inception is a movie by Chrisopher Nolan, the same guy who turned a particularly campy franchise into the homerun-making sunnovabitch of a movie - The Dark Knight. Unlike the batman movie though, Inception has no franchise to rely on. Honestly, even the posters and trailers were either sucky or misleading - and actually made me think that the movie was a Silence of The Lambs style psychothriller.

I can tell you it's not. And that it's much much more.

The movie centers around the idea that some people can enter the dreams of other people and use it to their advantage in knowing or manipulating that person's ideas. It's nothing new, as a matter of fact, just last week's chapters of the Naruto Manga and Bleach Manga had the same IDEA going on. But as the saying goes, it's not what kind of bat you get, it's how you swing it.

The world that Nolan built around the concept of entering minds is simply breathtaking. It's one of those movies that can carry its own weight without the fancy fanservice, the nostalgia, and the huge unnecessary explosions that permeate seemingly every other movie. The dimensions touched by the movie are intimidating - but far from unintelligible. Casual moviegoers are treated with gorgeous but apt visuals, while more technical ones are left with mounds of mindcandy to sort through hours after watching the movie.

The movie is almost three hours long, but like the Dark Knight, there is seldom a slow moment. The general theme of the movie about one man's guilt and attempt at redemption is kept clear throughout, although the complexity of the premises make the general storyline take a backstage position during the movies more gripping moments.

Action from Di Caprio and that girl from Juno (Ellen Page) is so so, but luckily the other elements of the movie like camera movement, lighting, and soundtrack more than makes up for it. Special props to Di Caprio's ex wife's chilling performance. My biggest disappointment as far as acting goes is Ken Watanabe, who really should start moving out of the whole "Witty but stoic Japanese strongfigure" mold.

There were also some loopholes in the movie, albeit near negligible (clue: it's related to, but not directly about familiar faces) and hardly noticeable. Other than those minor things, the whole thing feels solid, like a bloody rock.

I personally think this movie will be the next "The Matrix" of this decade, inspiring people to philosophize the whole thing unnecessarily. As far as my personal gauge goes, I'd go so far as putting this beside Lord of War, one of my most favorite movies of all time.

This review is long but my recommendation is short: Watch it by all means.

Pinoy Eurotrash

You know, it's not really that bad to appreciate products that come from other countries. I don't ever recall, for example, ever encountering condoms with the Proudly Philippine Made logo. And I most certainly would not want to be operated on by surgical knives made by the same people who forge amazingly fragile souvenir blades in Batangas. If you want quality, you gotta branch out. You have to import.

What I don't understand, however, is the latest trend in cars. No, not really importing cars. What I don't understand is why people would put European Union Carplates (those long blue carplates with a circle of stars on the side) under their local license plates to appear that they were imported from EUROPE.

I suppose I'd be willing to forgive cars of brands like BMW and Alfa Romeo. They could have been from Europe once. But why would any ignant ass moron want to be so proud to say that their cars are second hand? Unless you're from Europe, migrated back to the Philippines and took your 1 metric ton car along for some god knows what reason, an EU license plate in your car means you bought your shit second hand and by deduction, means you cannot afford a brand new one and therefore a general cheapskate. This does not happen in anything else. You dont see girls bragging about their bags and outfits being bought in an Ukayukay or in some used car parking lot. There is no bragging right in being able to say that
"once upon a time, a fat american woman used this shoulder bag, yeah? cool huh?" In fact, in most situations, they'd take that secret to their graves (or yours, if they can get away with it)

Even worse are the people who probably don't even understand the concept of "imported". These car owners are so willing to jump into a fad without even half understanding the ramifications of what they're doing.

See, if you have a locally assembled car, or even a car that was assembled in an Asian country, and then you tack an EU license plate onto it, what does that tell you? Your asian car was imported to europe, some european dude wore it out, and then they sent it back here in Manila for you to use. See how messed up that is? Worst of all, because such a scenario would be impossible in a locally car, that means YOU'RE MAKING THIS SHIT UP. It's like having a girlfriend and secretly bragging to all your friends that she used to get in bed with a German brewmaster, but it's alright now because you're her new boyfriend. WHAT. THE. FUCK.

The only thing worse than a fake imported product is a fake imported product openly admitted by its owner. You know what accessory would be nice for these cars? Shreds of dignity. They'd really do wonders.

If you really want to tack a licenseplate under your local one, make it a North Korean license plate. In a country where barely anything is able to come out without being riddled by bullets by border guards, a North Korean license plate means you came walking out of an impossible place, and was badass enough to bring your car along - a feat that has never been done. See the difference? From a mobile eurotrash you turn into one van short of MR.T's 1983 custom GMC Van, which is the Peter North of all vehicles which gives you one important entitlement:

The right to being the biggest dick on the road.

Milo Is NOT An Energy Drink

Ever since I was a kid, I've always wondered why Milo and Ovaltine were marketed as energy drinks. If I were to believe what the commercials say they're supposed to be, Milo and Ovaltine would be sold along the lines of Red Bull, Extra Joss, and Barako - just chocolatier, and for children. For Milo's case, they even upped the ante and called it the "Olympic" energy drink, as though drinking it would make you a chiseled Olympian athlete, one tryout short of winning gold. In the commercial, you'd see a kid go from "that kid who sits on the bench and will eventually die a virgin" to "that badass motherfucker who swims like a goddamn nuclear submarine on steroids".

Speaking of which, if ever this is the case, can we consider Milo as a performance enhancing substance that should be tested during competitions? I can almost imagine SWAT raiding the locker rooms of 12-yo taekwondo competitors and opening up everybody's bags in search for "powdery brown substances or liquids" and I can imagine the kids and the cops having the following converstation:

Cop: "Well well well, look what we have here?" *dangles waterbottle with brown contents*
Athlete: "It's just Magnolia Chocolait I swear."
Cop: "hen how come we found brown powder residue near your locker area?
Athlete: You can't pin that on me. It might be Nesquick or something.
Cop: Then you wouldn't mind us tearing up these Milo Olympic Action Trading Cards - free with every large pack of Milo, that we found in your locker right?
Athlete: Japoy! Noooooooo

Now that's just wrong. Here we are telling everybody that using steriods is bad while encouraging the very same ideas to our kids. This, given that Milo and Ovaltine ARE in fact energy drinks.

Well that's just bullshit. Milo is not an energy drink. It's chocolate water, and anybody who says it's something an athlete should be drinking is spouting complete BS. If Milo is as vital as it is, why is it that nobody in the Olympics can be seen chugging it just before their sport? You don't see Usain Bolt drinking Milo just before he breaks a couple of world records along with the sound barrier with his abnormally fast legs. That's just a fact.

It's amazing that we've come to accept that Milo = energy with years of inculcation and consistent commercial association of these products with sports like those Milo sports clinics that we have every summer, where nobody ever recommends drinking Milo during sessions.

You know what I want? I want Milo and Ovaltine to stop peddling their products for what they aren't and just come out with a more straightforward marketing. I have therefore created the following more "honest" slogans for the two products:

Milo: It don't do nothing to make you a better athlete, but it goes well with pretty much any breakfast.

Ovaltine: Maaaan, it's fucking ovaltine. Like Milo, but with an orange packaging. What more do you want?

Yeah, I'd like that better in my drink. Honest to goodness chocolate.

Media Violence and Violence In General

In the latest news, the PNP is now asking for a directory of mediamen in the country so that they can be better protected. With media groups protesting left and right about violence against the so called press, what can the policemen do?

Let's try to look at it in the flip side. Understandably, being a reporter/journalist is a dangerous job. It's definitely more dangerous than say, being a computer programmer, whose biggest threat is choking on a piece of cracker while snacking secretly on the job. However, it can't also be denied that there are OTHER dangerous jobs out there, albeit far less influential.

Here's my point:

If we can protest Violence against Mediamen, why can't we protest against VIOLENCE only? Journalist or not, if you get shot in the ass, you're gonna bleed, and as far as I know, I am no less expendable than, say, that guy in Inquirer who keeps on writing about Kris Aquino. What makes journalism such a special classification of work that it has to have extra security? I mean, sure, journalism is dangerous, but probably only for the 10% of people involved in digging into really dangerous things. I doubt people like Jobert Sucaldito (arguably a mediaman, in a very loose sense, particularly the man part) ever gets lifethreatening incidents at work as long as it's not about Willie's ruined career. According to article, every person involved in journalism will be protected. Does that include even the bloggers like me? How about Pia Guanio?

But Jet, you tell me, journalists are the keepers of the freedom of speech! They NEED to be protected! Please. First of all, it's not like our news is the most objective thing on the planet. And thanks to the internet, more and more of our news are coming from non-journalists anyway. Freedom of speech will go on. With or without journalists. Moreover, looking at the reported cases, not all of the complained cases got killed because of something related to work. Considering that, they shouldn't be treated any more special than that other guy who got stabbed while singing "My Way" at a level that will make even Jimmy Santos Cringe.

So where am I getting at? If it's just protecting jobs that are fairly vulnerable to violence, why aren't we seeing mounted protests against violence on public utility drivers? These people are vital to our economy. Without them, how will you even be able to go to your work? I can't find statistics for it, but I'm sure they tend to get into trouble more than mediamen as every taxi driver I know has at least one other friend driver who's gotten mugged, carjacked, or flat out stabbed and killed. No Human Rights lobby groups cry out for them on TV. You don't see newspapers saying "Whoah, whoah, THIS is just unfair!"

I'll tell you why. It's because unlike the media, they're less able to air their concerns. Who would listen other than their passengers, who probably care less than Kris Aquino cares about delicadeza? The police need to protect these guys too, but you don't see them preparing databases for Juan Manibela. To be honest, I don't really like the idea of seeing messengers get shot any more than everybody else, but I don't like either how people are somehow glossing over other concerns to prioritize the media simply because they have the ability to gain broadside attention - and the ability to polarize the images of people who can't give them what they want.

That's just plain bullying - no different from the government the media has almost seemingly sworn to fight against every step of the way, necessarily or otherwise.

Oxygen : A Quick Review

In keeping with the request that we should become more informative here in Public Static, we will be reviewing something that affects everybody on a day to day basis.

OXYGEN

Pros:

- Tastes quite refreshing when two parts are mixed with hydrogen (works great with 8 o'clock concentrate)

- Fully compatibe with most lungs in the market, (unless it's from mars)

- Primary ingredient of Fire Breathing Dragons

- Allowed man to invent the fire, and as a direct consequence of thousands of years of innovation, instant popcorn (which rules)

- Can be stored in a tank, or a plastic bag when you're too poor but need to go underwater for extended periods of time, like during storm season

and you're in UST.

- Plants gladly convert fart into this, so it's readily accessible.

Cons:

- Kind of sucks when you mix with carbon

- Fucks up freshly sliced fruits and wine after a while

- Does not float, like Hydrogen and Helium, which would've made flying a whole lot easier.

- Rust, man. Rust.

- The clothing line using the name has tops that will only look good on half-starved somali pirates, and only if they hold their breath in.

Lazy News Day

Yeah, real informative there buddy. The guy who writes twitter updates got reassigned to the article-churning team and has some issues integrating into the new work. (Actually it says AFP in the author. Seriously? Did INQ pay for this shit?)


(Our top news of the day comes from a very important guy in the i-dont-really-know field who died and will greatly affect our nation's development for the next 20.. seconds at least until we all forget why this was in the front page in the first place)

Because when you have lazy people working the sheets, every day is slow news day.

PitoPito Energy Drink / BARAKO Vodka

ulysses: ansama ng pakiramdam q
redkinoko: sipon, puso, o katawan?
ulysses: likod puso at lalamunan at ilong
redkinoko: kung lahat lahat yan isa lang sagot dyan.
redkinoko: PITO PITO ENERGY DRINK
ulysses: hahaha
redkinoko: ANG SIKRETO NI ANDRES BONIFACIO
redkinoko: INOMIN MO ITO AT MAGIGING KAGAYA NYA
redkinoko: (matagal nang patay)
ulysses: :))

ulysses: me nabalitaan aqng vodka salmon flavor
redkinoko: haha meron?
ulysses: waaaaaa
ulysses: uu
ulysses: meron
redkinoko: astig yun
ulysses: nilalagay sa food
redkinoko: i can market that
ulysses: hahaha
redkinoko: INUMAN NA PULUTAN PA. INUMAN. PULUTAN. INUTAN!
redkinoko: BARAKO SALMON-FLAVORED VODKA - TINAMAAN KA NA, SHET NATINIK KA PA
redkinoko: SAN KA PA?
ulysses: hahahaha
redkinoko: tequila mo me bulate? TANGINA MO. VODKA KO MAY BUHAY NA ISDA
redkinoko: see? i can totally sell that drink.
redkinoko: :)

Iunno

With heat the sun tickles the most supple of skin
and strong winds blow kisses of shiver within
Let deluge of rain wash away the unwanted
and innocence of snow leave hearts a'harkened

Any weather is good weather to the prepared.