You know you're pretty much screwed when you see these phrases on your performance evaluations. Without further ado, here are the some of really bad evaluation entries that I thought of this morning. If you have some more, post 'em as well :)
- "... has the teamplaying ability of a deer with a group of hyenas"
- "The majority of the technical papers he submits are best used as fly swatters."
- "I wouldn't let my kids play with his kids."
- "... might do better working for our sanitation department."
- "Programming is spelled with two M's. And yes, even with British spelling."
- His flowchart diagrams make Rembrandt look like the most understandable painter in the world.
- Forrest Gump is a good movie, really. But working with a "Forrest" is totally ridiculous.
- His workarea is an ecological wasteland.
- He is to incompetence what Fort Knox is to gold.
- 23 might not be that bad an age to force retirment.
- More out of place than Martin Lawrence when he played the black football player in King Arthur's court.
- He has the technical learning curve of a common goldfish.
- Coming to work barefoot has been out of practice since the Spanish era.
- There are just some contributors our GNP can do well without.
- There are no impossibly hopeless people in this world, only this guy - whatever he is.
- I'd shoot him with a rifle if just to make sure he's open to new things.
- Justifying his salary is like trying to prove Estrada innocent. It's possible, but it ain't gonna happen anytime soon...
Showing posts with label Picks. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Picks. Show all posts
Fun with Numbers
Friday, March 09, 2007
Here's something fun to do with the cellphone number of a friend/enemy (doesn't matter whether or not if he's for or against you because after he finds out, he'll probably too pissed at you to become anything less than your arch-enemy and potential murderer).
1. Ride a bus. Any bus can do but preferrably, buses running routes on any of the following:
- provinces
- EDSA or any busy route
- Saudi Arabia*
2. Get a pen and commit into mind the number of your friend.
3. Take three deep breaths and say to yourself "for the love of the game".
4. When nobody is looking, go write "WANTED GEY LUVER. TEXT ME AT: [friend's
number]" at the back of the seat in front of you. Make sure it's legible enough to be understood that whoever owns that number wants to have sex with whoever sends a message to that number. Remember to make your writing clear and solid - we want to convey an attitude of seriousness and, well, formality of asking for ass stuffing.
5. Get off the bus (as in disembark, you monkey) and pretend nothing ever happened.
6. Repeat steps 1-5 maybe 10-20 times. Don't get caught. Getting caught simply means you're the one who wants mansex. Also, the conductor will probably give you an LTRFB-regulated brand of asskicking.
*only if possible. airfare is not worth it.
What will happen is that your friend will now have a simcard that's more active with sexually loaded messages than 2-for-1 movies they show in stickyfloor cinemas that have titles like "Haliparot" and "Gising na Adan"
Best part of it is that he wouldn't really know the reason and start wondering why so many gay people suddenly want to become friends with him. For best effect, pretend you accidentally read his inbox and start laughing about the messages he forgets to delete (if you've written the number enough times, he shouldn't have enough time to erase them all at once)
If ever you feel sad and guilty about it, think about it this way. You're just helping your friend find his sexuality. If he's really gay (this happens, really) he'll probably enjoy the favor and you've been a good friend. If he's not and he's pissy about it - you tried to widen his circle of friends but it's not your fault he's being such a douch for not entertaining "friendly" requests. Win/win.
My barkada tried this on a friend/ex-friend once. By the third day he was reduced to a crying sap who thinks there's a syndicate of penises out to get him. In the end he had to change simcards just to make it stop. We told him about the joke and we had a good laugh or two about it. Actually we didn't. And he was never really included in the laughing sessions but we still laugh about it - but only when Mr. Congeniality's not around.
An alternative would be to post his number on those notoriously raunchy cable text chat and run the message "Wanted boy lover with free 350 load" along with his number. The poor guy wont know what hit him.
Actually he probably will.
But at least he won't know where it's coming from.
1. Ride a bus. Any bus can do but preferrably, buses running routes on any of the following:
- provinces
- EDSA or any busy route
- Saudi Arabia*
2. Get a pen and commit into mind the number of your friend.
3. Take three deep breaths and say to yourself "for the love of the game".
4. When nobody is looking, go write "WANTED GEY LUVER. TEXT ME AT: [friend's
number]" at the back of the seat in front of you. Make sure it's legible enough to be understood that whoever owns that number wants to have sex with whoever sends a message to that number. Remember to make your writing clear and solid - we want to convey an attitude of seriousness and, well, formality of asking for ass stuffing.
5. Get off the bus (as in disembark, you monkey) and pretend nothing ever happened.
6. Repeat steps 1-5 maybe 10-20 times. Don't get caught. Getting caught simply means you're the one who wants mansex. Also, the conductor will probably give you an LTRFB-regulated brand of asskicking.
*only if possible. airfare is not worth it.
What will happen is that your friend will now have a simcard that's more active with sexually loaded messages than 2-for-1 movies they show in stickyfloor cinemas that have titles like "Haliparot" and "Gising na Adan"
Best part of it is that he wouldn't really know the reason and start wondering why so many gay people suddenly want to become friends with him. For best effect, pretend you accidentally read his inbox and start laughing about the messages he forgets to delete (if you've written the number enough times, he shouldn't have enough time to erase them all at once)
If ever you feel sad and guilty about it, think about it this way. You're just helping your friend find his sexuality. If he's really gay (this happens, really) he'll probably enjoy the favor and you've been a good friend. If he's not and he's pissy about it - you tried to widen his circle of friends but it's not your fault he's being such a douch for not entertaining "friendly" requests. Win/win.
My barkada tried this on a friend/ex-friend once. By the third day he was reduced to a crying sap who thinks there's a syndicate of penises out to get him. In the end he had to change simcards just to make it stop. We told him about the joke and we had a good laugh or two about it. Actually we didn't. And he was never really included in the laughing sessions but we still laugh about it - but only when Mr. Congeniality's not around.
An alternative would be to post his number on those notoriously raunchy cable text chat and run the message "Wanted boy lover with free 350 load" along with his number. The poor guy wont know what hit him.
Actually he probably will.
But at least he won't know where it's coming from.
Gumby Sucks
Tuesday, March 06, 2007
I think I'm not alone when I say that Gumby is probably one of the laziest animated shows that I've seen on TV. Just look at him. He's green clay with a face drawn on him. It doesn't take a genius to figure out he's not too far different from the original bar of clay that you'll be getting of you buy green clay from a bookstore.I heard they once tried to make a "make-your-own-gumby" lookalike contest. Everybody won - including people who just bought the clay and didn't do anything to make it look different.
Come to think of it, every character in that show is lazy. Even the bad guys, called the Blockheads. They're characters with *gasp* block heads. And if that doesn't get lazy enough, the two blockheads are completely identical. A bunch of uninnovative assholes are running this show, I tell you.
And is it just me or does gumby look tad bit like a bad escher fusion of marijuana and whoever smokes marijuana? Bloodshot eyes, bright green colour, hallucinogenic animation - maaan, does Gumby suck or what?
Then I remember this show is from Britain, from the same wankers who take pride in their most creative culinary dish: fish and chips. Fish. And. Chips. But I guess if you're constantly being bombarded by boring shit like Thomas the Talking Train and Hugh Grant, you'd start thinking Gumby is totally rad.
Well not really, I'd probably think Gumby still sucks.
I normally have high tolerances for bad things, but this character is just unbelievably sucky.
The Fastfood Is Not A Place For Family Decisions
Thursday, February 15, 2007
Okay, I may have ranted about something similar before but I just feel compelled to talk about it again - because it happened to me just now again.
So there I was, in line at the cashier of Jolibee when the turn of the two people in front of me came up. From how they looked (i.e. both ugly) they were a couple. I patiently waited for them to finish giving their orders to the cashier - I had time to kill, so I wasn't really paying attention.
Then five minutes passed.
Then ten minutes.
After that, it wasn't time I wanted to kill anymore. I've killed enough time - and I wanted to kill something else. The two people were STILL ordering. Everytime they'd look at a menu item, it's like they're having decisions about family fucking planning.
Guy: How about french fries?
Girl: Oh I don't know... I don't think we're ready yet.
Guy: It's okay. We can handle it.
Girl: Sure... but only if it's regular.
Guy: Okay regular. Ketchup?
Girl: What did the doctor say about ketchup?
Guy: I can't remember.
Girl: Maybe we should get the mayonnaise instead.
Guy: Good call.
Dying cashier: SO YOU WANT THE FRIES?
Guy and Girl: *looks at each other then looks at the cashier* We'll take it!
Girl: Okay, what's next on the menu?
I felt like the stupid banker from Deal or No Deal who always stands behind silhouettes like some child abuse victim. For the love of everything holy, hungry, and Go Bigtime, SAY DEAL ALREADY. I want my breakfast! If these two were in that show, Kris Aquino would be having a baby already and they'd still be deciding whether or not they should open the fourth case.
Listen. The fastfood is called so because food is supposed to be delivered fast. Unfortunately, the fastfood is only as fast as the guy in front of you in the queue. If you have some shred of decency in your soul, the moment you get in line, start thinking/debating/legislating already about what you're going to eat so that when you arrive at the cashier, you just have to "place" your order and not "philosophize" about whether or not humanity is ready for your regular yum with cheese.
As an ending to the story, I finally got what I wanted. But not because I waited for those two. I had to transfer to another cashier yet again.
There still is no justice in this world.
-----------
In other news, after posting the coke article, the traffic of this site went triple its daily average. WTF Vagoo.
So there I was, in line at the cashier of Jolibee when the turn of the two people in front of me came up. From how they looked (i.e. both ugly) they were a couple. I patiently waited for them to finish giving their orders to the cashier - I had time to kill, so I wasn't really paying attention.
Then five minutes passed.
Then ten minutes.
After that, it wasn't time I wanted to kill anymore. I've killed enough time - and I wanted to kill something else. The two people were STILL ordering. Everytime they'd look at a menu item, it's like they're having decisions about family fucking planning.
Guy: How about french fries?
Girl: Oh I don't know... I don't think we're ready yet.
Guy: It's okay. We can handle it.
Girl: Sure... but only if it's regular.
Guy: Okay regular. Ketchup?
Girl: What did the doctor say about ketchup?
Guy: I can't remember.
Girl: Maybe we should get the mayonnaise instead.
Guy: Good call.
Dying cashier: SO YOU WANT THE FRIES?
Guy and Girl: *looks at each other then looks at the cashier* We'll take it!
Girl: Okay, what's next on the menu?
I felt like the stupid banker from Deal or No Deal who always stands behind silhouettes like some child abuse victim. For the love of everything holy, hungry, and Go Bigtime, SAY DEAL ALREADY. I want my breakfast! If these two were in that show, Kris Aquino would be having a baby already and they'd still be deciding whether or not they should open the fourth case.
Listen. The fastfood is called so because food is supposed to be delivered fast. Unfortunately, the fastfood is only as fast as the guy in front of you in the queue. If you have some shred of decency in your soul, the moment you get in line, start thinking/debating/legislating already about what you're going to eat so that when you arrive at the cashier, you just have to "place" your order and not "philosophize" about whether or not humanity is ready for your regular yum with cheese.
As an ending to the story, I finally got what I wanted. But not because I waited for those two. I had to transfer to another cashier yet again.
There still is no justice in this world.
-----------
In other news, after posting the coke article, the traffic of this site went triple its daily average. WTF Vagoo.
More Subliminal Advertisement.
Wednesday, February 14, 2007
Sometime not too long ago, I wrote an article about subliminal messages in advertisements using Folgers, an american brand of coffee to illustrate how sex can get injected in a commercial. That commercial was made during the 60's.
A few nights ago, I was cruising down EDSA and saw this really striking ad for a very popular product: Coca-cola. Location for the ad is between Guadalupe and Buendia MRT stations. It's at least 30 ft tall so you can't miss it. The theme was "Buhay Coke, Buksan mo." (The Coke Life, Open it.) There is nothing wrong with the caption.
Then I saw the image posted in the billboard. It's a coke being opened after being shaken, its contents exploding from it's uncapped mouth. There was nothing noteworthy about that, I mean, that's what happens when coke is opened under pressure.
What was striking was that the "fountain" of coke together with the bottle formed something I found really funny. To further illustrate my point, I have a picture here of what you should see along EDSA:
(Recreated drawing masterfully done by Leonardi Da Vinci using MSPaint, 300 years after his death. Go blame him for the sucky art.)
It looked like a vagina between two legs spreading. Even the taxi driver agreed after I mentioned it. A friend of mine thought so too. And then there's the word "Buksan mo" which made it even funnier, in a not-so-good suggestive way.
If you don't believe me, go check it out. We have a 50ft vagina posted in our most busy thoroughfare and nobody even notices the play there. (Talk about underappreciation.)
What is it with advertisers and trying to hide sex symbols in ads anyway? If it's not hotdog commercials, it's ice cream. If it's not ice cream it's condominiums. And now this.
Maybe somewhere inside the bowels of the great Coke organization (no pun intended) a conversation like this occured:
marketing guy: Betcha I can put a large drawing of a pussy in a very busy roadway and get away with it.
marketing head: How big?
marketing guy: 50ft. This one's for the books. It'll be like Poontang-Palooza.
marketing head: Do it and I'll let you do Bench commercials and you get to choose the models.
Is there a yearly award for the "most publicized hidden sex icon" in the advertising industry? I begin to suspect that the guys who make these things are just corporate version of my classmate Benson, who got caught vandalizing our school walls with giant images of penis using chalk. I mean, they had to grow up and maybe they just wanted to do as work what they enjoyed doing as kids.
Kudos to Coke for being able to pull this shit off from right under everybody's noses.
Or should I say over our heads?
A few nights ago, I was cruising down EDSA and saw this really striking ad for a very popular product: Coca-cola. Location for the ad is between Guadalupe and Buendia MRT stations. It's at least 30 ft tall so you can't miss it. The theme was "Buhay Coke, Buksan mo." (The Coke Life, Open it.) There is nothing wrong with the caption.
Then I saw the image posted in the billboard. It's a coke being opened after being shaken, its contents exploding from it's uncapped mouth. There was nothing noteworthy about that, I mean, that's what happens when coke is opened under pressure.
What was striking was that the "fountain" of coke together with the bottle formed something I found really funny. To further illustrate my point, I have a picture here of what you should see along EDSA:
(Recreated drawing masterfully done by Leonardi Da Vinci using MSPaint, 300 years after his death. Go blame him for the sucky art.)
It looked like a vagina between two legs spreading. Even the taxi driver agreed after I mentioned it. A friend of mine thought so too. And then there's the word "Buksan mo" which made it even funnier, in a not-so-good suggestive way.
If you don't believe me, go check it out. We have a 50ft vagina posted in our most busy thoroughfare and nobody even notices the play there. (Talk about underappreciation.)
What is it with advertisers and trying to hide sex symbols in ads anyway? If it's not hotdog commercials, it's ice cream. If it's not ice cream it's condominiums. And now this.
Maybe somewhere inside the bowels of the great Coke organization (no pun intended) a conversation like this occured:
marketing guy: Betcha I can put a large drawing of a pussy in a very busy roadway and get away with it.
marketing head: How big?
marketing guy: 50ft. This one's for the books. It'll be like Poontang-Palooza.
marketing head: Do it and I'll let you do Bench commercials and you get to choose the models.
Is there a yearly award for the "most publicized hidden sex icon" in the advertising industry? I begin to suspect that the guys who make these things are just corporate version of my classmate Benson, who got caught vandalizing our school walls with giant images of penis using chalk. I mean, they had to grow up and maybe they just wanted to do as work what they enjoyed doing as kids.
Kudos to Coke for being able to pull this shit off from right under everybody's noses.
Or should I say over our heads?
Senator Type Quiz
Tuesday, February 06, 2007
Which type of senator do you think you are? Take this simple quiz and find out.
1. Do you think you can talk to animals?
a) Yes, but like everybody else, they just dont understand.
b) No, but if I could, I'll convince them to vote for me so I can better protect their needs.
c) Who sent you? The Lion King? For the last time tell his highness to stay clear of the Elephant Graveyard!
2. A cake is on the table with nobody around. You find the urge to:
a) Eat it.
b) Report to the authorities of a potential terrorist implement.
c) Eat it and then say you've successfuly diffused a potential terrorist implement at a presscon.
3. What do you think of Turon and Mineral Water?
a) Never seen them together in my entire life.
b) Staple food for senate officework.
c) They should be replaced with soda instead (as they go well with the nuts of the senate)
4. Which hobby do you like best
a) sleeping
c) charity work for our empoverished brothers
b) sleeping around
5. Yes or No: Good friends make good runningmates.
a) Yes.
b) Not necessarily.
c) Only if they have good hair.
6. What's your favorite Magazine?
a) Archie Comics.
b) Time and Newsweek.
c) FHM, but only too look for clues regarding the latest coup attempt.
7. If I can pass one seemingly impossible law it would be:
a) *shrug* If it's on my table, I'll sign it.
b) Incremental taxation on annual land vehicle registration.
c) Female Government Workers Should Wear Skirts Act
8. My idea of a good campaign would be:
a) where people will vote for me after seeing me onstage.
b) People believing I can change the world through my people-friendly agendas.
c) A That's Entertainment Cast, preferrably the Friday Group for that week.
9. What's the meaning of life?
a) I abstain from voting on this issue.
b) Enjoy life by helping others*
c) Not anything the opposition would have in mind.
10. My motto is:
a) If less is more, then how much more is more?
b) The only reason for evil to succeed is for good men to do nothing.
c) There's no business like show business.
Results:
If you answered mostly A's:
You are a Driftwood Politician, living the life of a drift wood, you float from one position to another, tenure to tenure without actually doing so much as eating, sleeping and occassionally making remarks about the hair of other politicians when you run out of dilbertisms. Voters still vote for you for one reason or another and you just keep on popping up on the winners list. Fret not, being driftwood is not so bad. Driftwood is still hardwood and it can make good decorative artifacts at home. A talking driftwood is also an object of great entertainment - accidental entertainment. Yours is the life that goes "life is but a dream, gently down the stream."
Examples: Robert Jaworski Sr., Edgardo Angara, Ralph Recto, Dong Puno (j/k)
If you answered mostly B's:
You have good hair. You know how to answer every question. You only seek what's best for your country. You save babies in your past time and you have the power to eat garbage and shit diamonds. Your piss is 100% refined oil that helps keep gas prices down. The laws you pass are always for the betterment of mankind. And you are the world's most perfect goddamn liar because no such senator exists in this country. You are the Perfect Politician Liar
Examples: None. Joker Arroyo comes close though, very close.
If you answered mostly C's:
Legislative Entertainer. The senate is a stage and you are the Peter North, the world's most famous pornstar. You spend your entire tenure making a live show of the sessions, screwing everybody within 20 meters of your desk. No law gets passed without your approval - or witty retort that's totally unhelpful. The people watching you on TV are sure to be enterained with your freakisms of nature and everybody else in the floor will hate you for giving them a pain in the ass. You are not the devil's advocate. You are the advocate's devil.
Examples: Tito Sotto, Gringo Honasan, Tito Sotto
So, which senatoriable type are you?
*notorious motto of G-Cosmos owner Genta Ogami, professional conman.
1. Do you think you can talk to animals?
a) Yes, but like everybody else, they just dont understand.
b) No, but if I could, I'll convince them to vote for me so I can better protect their needs.
c) Who sent you? The Lion King? For the last time tell his highness to stay clear of the Elephant Graveyard!
2. A cake is on the table with nobody around. You find the urge to:
a) Eat it.
b) Report to the authorities of a potential terrorist implement.
c) Eat it and then say you've successfuly diffused a potential terrorist implement at a presscon.
3. What do you think of Turon and Mineral Water?
a) Never seen them together in my entire life.
b) Staple food for senate officework.
c) They should be replaced with soda instead (as they go well with the nuts of the senate)
4. Which hobby do you like best
a) sleeping
c) charity work for our empoverished brothers
b) sleeping around
5. Yes or No: Good friends make good runningmates.
a) Yes.
b) Not necessarily.
c) Only if they have good hair.
6. What's your favorite Magazine?
a) Archie Comics.
b) Time and Newsweek.
c) FHM, but only too look for clues regarding the latest coup attempt.
7. If I can pass one seemingly impossible law it would be:
a) *shrug* If it's on my table, I'll sign it.
b) Incremental taxation on annual land vehicle registration.
c) Female Government Workers Should Wear Skirts Act
8. My idea of a good campaign would be:
a) where people will vote for me after seeing me onstage.
b) People believing I can change the world through my people-friendly agendas.
c) A That's Entertainment Cast, preferrably the Friday Group for that week.
9. What's the meaning of life?
a) I abstain from voting on this issue.
b) Enjoy life by helping others*
c) Not anything the opposition would have in mind.
10. My motto is:
a) If less is more, then how much more is more?
b) The only reason for evil to succeed is for good men to do nothing.
c) There's no business like show business.
Results:
If you answered mostly A's:
You are a Driftwood Politician, living the life of a drift wood, you float from one position to another, tenure to tenure without actually doing so much as eating, sleeping and occassionally making remarks about the hair of other politicians when you run out of dilbertisms. Voters still vote for you for one reason or another and you just keep on popping up on the winners list. Fret not, being driftwood is not so bad. Driftwood is still hardwood and it can make good decorative artifacts at home. A talking driftwood is also an object of great entertainment - accidental entertainment. Yours is the life that goes "life is but a dream, gently down the stream."
Examples: Robert Jaworski Sr., Edgardo Angara, Ralph Recto, Dong Puno (j/k)
If you answered mostly B's:
You have good hair. You know how to answer every question. You only seek what's best for your country. You save babies in your past time and you have the power to eat garbage and shit diamonds. Your piss is 100% refined oil that helps keep gas prices down. The laws you pass are always for the betterment of mankind. And you are the world's most perfect goddamn liar because no such senator exists in this country. You are the Perfect
Examples: None. Joker Arroyo comes close though, very close.
If you answered mostly C's:
Legislative Entertainer. The senate is a stage and you are the Peter North, the world's most famous pornstar. You spend your entire tenure making a live show of the sessions, screwing everybody within 20 meters of your desk. No law gets passed without your approval - or witty retort that's totally unhelpful. The people watching you on TV are sure to be enterained with your freakisms of nature and everybody else in the floor will hate you for giving them a pain in the ass. You are not the devil's advocate. You are the advocate's devil.
Examples: Tito Sotto, Gringo Honasan, Tito Sotto
So, which senatoriable type are you?
*notorious motto of G-Cosmos owner Genta Ogami, professional conman.
Just Another College Story
Friday, February 02, 2007
This story happened when we were still on PEONE (or whatever that subject was called) under Mr. Borlain (I cant remember the exact spelling) You'll know this large walking chunk of flesh by the ridiculously disproportioned buldge in his short shorts and his particular penchant for young girls characterized by his homing eyeballs while roaming the 7th floor PE grounds.
Our class was one of the first batches to make use of the swimming pool actually. That was around July of 2000 or something. So anyway we were asked to wear the swimsuits and stuff. We really didnt know why we had to swim when we're not even doing PETRID (individual sports) but we jumped into the water anyway because all freshmen are required to take advantage of any chance to make payabang.
And then the crazy mofo walked out of the changing room with barely-there swim trunks that still haunts me to this day. After a couple of eye-burning stretchings, he started unveiling his diabolical plan.
"All the girls, line up to the left," he said. "The guys, to the right of me."
It was all good.
Except he was standing in the borderline of the 5FT and 6FT side of the pool. Meaning, all guys were to stay in the deep end of the pool and had to either hang on to the railing or tread or maybe, if they felt like it or if they're unable to resist, drown.
He told the guys to stay put (or a sly way of saying go entertain yourselves) while he proceeded with instructing every girl in our class on a girl-to-person basis, if you know what I mean.
In case you're not familiar with our pool, for morning classes, the water there is f'ing freezing. And it's even more so if you're told to "STAY PUT". Unmoving muscles tend to get cold faster. Several classmates of mine turned purple after a couple of minutes. We've yet to find some of the bodies from that class.
Meanwhile, the girls are enjoying (maybe) their personal instruction with Captain Steroids. While half of the male population are enjoying their newly coined subgroup name "pulikat boys".
After that class, I could never watch Titanic's last moments without giving out a laugh, after which I curl up in fetal position, stroke my arm a couple of times and then sob the same girl a little girl would.
Our class was one of the first batches to make use of the swimming pool actually. That was around July of 2000 or something. So anyway we were asked to wear the swimsuits and stuff. We really didnt know why we had to swim when we're not even doing PETRID (individual sports) but we jumped into the water anyway because all freshmen are required to take advantage of any chance to make payabang.
And then the crazy mofo walked out of the changing room with barely-there swim trunks that still haunts me to this day. After a couple of eye-burning stretchings, he started unveiling his diabolical plan.
"All the girls, line up to the left," he said. "The guys, to the right of me."
It was all good.
Except he was standing in the borderline of the 5FT and 6FT side of the pool. Meaning, all guys were to stay in the deep end of the pool and had to either hang on to the railing or tread or maybe, if they felt like it or if they're unable to resist, drown.
He told the guys to stay put (or a sly way of saying go entertain yourselves) while he proceeded with instructing every girl in our class on a girl-to-person basis, if you know what I mean.
In case you're not familiar with our pool, for morning classes, the water there is f'ing freezing. And it's even more so if you're told to "STAY PUT". Unmoving muscles tend to get cold faster. Several classmates of mine turned purple after a couple of minutes. We've yet to find some of the bodies from that class.
Meanwhile, the girls are enjoying (maybe) their personal instruction with Captain Steroids. While half of the male population are enjoying their newly coined subgroup name "pulikat boys".
After that class, I could never watch Titanic's last moments without giving out a laugh, after which I curl up in fetal position, stroke my arm a couple of times and then sob the same girl a little girl would.
Why Filipinos Don't Eat The Ends of a Tasty
Monday, January 15, 2007
In the olden days, whitebread, or Tasty as we know it today were baked vertically because of the spanish-style rack layout on brick "pugons" (open-fire ovens). The edges of the bread often touched the rather coalish surfaces of these racks as they were baked on their open-ended molds that were designed for expansion. The result would be that the color of the edges of the bread will be smeared with coal. As common sense dictates, people would slice them off and not eat them.After the arrival of the Americans, the Bratford-Connolly(?) system was promoted for better baking efficiency, presenting horizontal mount racks instead of vertical ones, with the bread trays sealed on all four corners instead of two. The breakout of the second world war caused the destruction of the mostly antiquated spanish-era baking structures. It has even been reported that for some cases, the destruction of the old bakeries by Japanese occupying forces had been systematic - as rationed wheat was said to have been wasted on the older bakeries.
People however, have learned to stick with their ways and have long since forgotten why they have to avoid eating the edges of the common white bread loaf.
More recently though, there have been a lot of discussion regarding the actual efficacy of the spanish-style open-fire baking ovens and several novelty bakeries such as Pan de Raya in Tagaytay have started using the old method again, with more hygiene in mind of course. It's said that bread baked in such way contains more taste than the regular bread we are eating today.
The Tasty, to every bread, there's history.
Oh and yeah, 100% of what I said in this post is bullshit. Have a nice day.
Fun With Chopsticks
Monday, January 08, 2007
Chopsticks are probably one of the most messed up tools on the planet, next to eyeball massagers. At least for the eyeball massager, they haven't been in use for around 200 years already. Chopsticks on the other hand are here to stay, causing more muscle spasm for generations to come. Am I the only one seeing the problem here?
First of all, why? It's a stick. Well, two sticks. What's so f'ing practical about that? After researching the origin of the chopsticks, I found out that according to archeological finds, they've been in use as early as 3200 years ago, first as primitive wooden implements to "prod" food being cooked in the fire. 3200, years later, the chopstick has developed into the primitive wooden implement we use to "prod" food being cooked in the fire today. *palm to face*
I have a theory of how this all started. Two chinese cavemen by the fire got bored (because let's face it, getting broadband and downloading bootlegged movies with funky chinese subtitles at that time was just f'ing impossible, you know what I mean?). Okay so they got bored and the conversation went something like this:
Pinpin: So when's our PS3 coming?
Lingling: In about 3202 years.
Pinpin: Damn. I'm bored.
Lingling: Is the food ready?
Pinpin: *Pokes roasting meat with stick* No.
Lingling: Hey I have a good idea for kicks.
Pinpin: What?
Lingling: What if we poke the meat with two sticks instead of one?
Pinpin: What's the difference?
Lingling: It's more challenging.
Pinpin: *holds two sticks together and pokes* No, it's not.
Lingling: Okay, try originally using a single stick and break it into two sticks and then hold the two sticks in the most fucked up way possible and try picking up shit using the two sticks. Betcha can't do that.
Pinpin: Oh yeah? Let's see you try. First person to get tired of this arrangement is gay.
Lingling: Prepare to be the world's first homo, caveboy.
Those two cavemen eventually died of starvation because no matter how hard you try, it's just impossible to eat a giant slab of dinosaur meat with just two sticks. Hence the archeological find. The rest of the cavemen found the test of manliness rather sporty, so the legacy of the chopsticks lived on.
So maybe we all make mistakes. We have to start somewhere. But what I don't get is why people still think it's still fucking "mod" to be using chopsticks when we already have invented the spoon and fork. It's like having cars already and then some people just go, "I think I'mma ride this stegasaurus for a while.."
And it's not like the spoon and fork is such a radical new idea. A chinese farmer away from f'ing civilization will have at least a shovel and a pitchfork in his farm. Choo choo. Clue train coming, it's your stop! If chopsticks are so damn effective, why aren't you using giant versions of them to haul soil out of the ground?
And for the record, I do know how to use chopsticks. And if by some chance you want to learn how to use them too, the easiest way is to throw yourself in the middle of China where asking for a spoon and fork without knowing their native tongue is harder than asking for democracy. Use the sticks or die of starvation - there are just some things that are easier to learn when your life's depending on it.
Maaan I hate chopsticks. Even the name's wrong. Those things can't even chop.
First of all, why? It's a stick. Well, two sticks. What's so f'ing practical about that? After researching the origin of the chopsticks, I found out that according to archeological finds, they've been in use as early as 3200 years ago, first as primitive wooden implements to "prod" food being cooked in the fire. 3200, years later, the chopstick has developed into the primitive wooden implement we use to "prod" food being cooked in the fire today. *palm to face*
I have a theory of how this all started. Two chinese cavemen by the fire got bored (because let's face it, getting broadband and downloading bootlegged movies with funky chinese subtitles at that time was just f'ing impossible, you know what I mean?). Okay so they got bored and the conversation went something like this:
Pinpin: So when's our PS3 coming?
Lingling: In about 3202 years.
Pinpin: Damn. I'm bored.
Lingling: Is the food ready?
Pinpin: *Pokes roasting meat with stick* No.
Lingling: Hey I have a good idea for kicks.
Pinpin: What?
Lingling: What if we poke the meat with two sticks instead of one?
Pinpin: What's the difference?
Lingling: It's more challenging.
Pinpin: *holds two sticks together and pokes* No, it's not.
Lingling: Okay, try originally using a single stick and break it into two sticks and then hold the two sticks in the most fucked up way possible and try picking up shit using the two sticks. Betcha can't do that.
Pinpin: Oh yeah? Let's see you try. First person to get tired of this arrangement is gay.
Lingling: Prepare to be the world's first homo, caveboy.
Those two cavemen eventually died of starvation because no matter how hard you try, it's just impossible to eat a giant slab of dinosaur meat with just two sticks. Hence the archeological find. The rest of the cavemen found the test of manliness rather sporty, so the legacy of the chopsticks lived on.
So maybe we all make mistakes. We have to start somewhere. But what I don't get is why people still think it's still fucking "mod" to be using chopsticks when we already have invented the spoon and fork. It's like having cars already and then some people just go, "I think I'mma ride this stegasaurus for a while.."
And it's not like the spoon and fork is such a radical new idea. A chinese farmer away from f'ing civilization will have at least a shovel and a pitchfork in his farm. Choo choo. Clue train coming, it's your stop! If chopsticks are so damn effective, why aren't you using giant versions of them to haul soil out of the ground?
And for the record, I do know how to use chopsticks. And if by some chance you want to learn how to use them too, the easiest way is to throw yourself in the middle of China where asking for a spoon and fork without knowing their native tongue is harder than asking for democracy. Use the sticks or die of starvation - there are just some things that are easier to learn when your life's depending on it.
Maaan I hate chopsticks. Even the name's wrong. Those things can't even chop.
McDonald's
Friday, January 05, 2007
McDonald's are like real-life "save points"* for travelling tourists. I don't know how to stress hard enough the importance of these establishments when you're on another part of the planet. Here are the usual issues of travelling in another country when you're alone and well, underinformed regarding local culture:
- You can't read anything.
- You can't talk without being misunderstood.
- You can't wander around too much because you might get lost and since you have the first two problems in hand, chances are you wont be able to do something about the "being lost" part either.
- Ordering food is always something akin to Fear Factor, since you'll never know what you're getting yourself into.
The two most common problems a tourist usually encounters when in another country is the same problem the neanderthal encountered when he appeared on earth some gajillion million years ago: lack of food and lack of porn. I was just kidding about the latter - man will always be inventive enough to overcome that (google: cave paintings). So anyway, here's the problem: you're basically hungry and you dont know where or what to eat, and if you do get the chance to order, the food might be bad for you or your finances or your reproductive system (maybe, who knows).
That's where McDonald's comes into play. Here are the benefits a foreigner gets from having a McDonald's branch near him:
- McDonald's has the universally recognizable symbol. The golden arch logo is a beacon that's more easily recognized than the red cross. To prove that it's more universal, if you go to the middle east, there's no red cross. It is replaced by a red crescent. Meanwhile, the McDonald's logo stays the same. So if you're travelling in some godforsaken alien country and you see it, you can say to yourself "Ah yes, McDonald's. Now I can rest." You don't have to know how to read in a foreign language. You know it's McDonald's just by the logo.
- The menu items and taste almost always never changes. The Big Mac in the States will more or less taste the same as that in Saudi Arabia. There will always be a Quarter Pounder on the menu (except in India, where it's forbidden to it beef. So they put human flesh instead - but they go out of their way just to make it taste like cow, which begs the question why cow is such a hard meat to eat in a country where half of it's population is already starving to death.) And the fries will always taste like fries. So as long as you're eating in a McDonald's, you can at least guarantee your tongue that you're not going to be playing hit and miss with the taste. Sure it won't taste too good, but at least you know how bad it gets already. Note that I did say "almost always" because when I was in Japan, McChicken became Chicken Tatsuta Sandwhich, which is basically seaweed, kelp and dead, undercooked chicken in a sandwich. Those sick people. Why did they have to call it something else when it tastes the same?
- The food items almost always are called the same. Well, not really. The pronounciation can be very different all over the world. But it's most certainly easier to order at McDonalds than to order a "lopangkauratatingpaktol" in the nearby thai restaurant and get the head of a dead moose on a soup bowl. The accents are not too different anyway. Like Mexicans call McNuggets "McNogads" or Arabs call Cheeseburgers "Yisberger yalalalah! Jihad! Yalalalalalah!" (just kidding, they dont yell that twice) but you get the idea most of the time. You already know what to order and they understand you. I said "almost always" again because of the Chicken Tatsuta example.
- Lastly, McDonald's almost always has restrooms. Unless you fancy peeing on the streets with your trousers on and you're zipper zipped up, this is always a blessing for the desperate tourist. I cant count how many times I've seen people saved from embarassment because of this feature.
McDonald's is a save point because it saves.
Now I'm not sure about the solution to world peace. But if ever there's a call for a unified government that transcends all borders of colors and ethnicity, I wouldn't be looking at the United Nations for a working pattern. I'd take a look at McDonald's and say
"Sig Heil! Sig Heil! Sig Heil!"
*In case you're old, technophobic, old-fashioned, amish, or just plain stupid, a "save point" is a term used in video games where you are able to save/store your the progress of long games such as role playing games so even after you have switched off the console, you will still be able to fail where you last failed. In some games, this is also where you can get your game life replenished. Public Static: Saving the world one idiot at a time.
- You can't read anything.
- You can't talk without being misunderstood.
- You can't wander around too much because you might get lost and since you have the first two problems in hand, chances are you wont be able to do something about the "being lost" part either.
- Ordering food is always something akin to Fear Factor, since you'll never know what you're getting yourself into.
The two most common problems a tourist usually encounters when in another country is the same problem the neanderthal encountered when he appeared on earth some gajillion million years ago: lack of food and lack of porn. I was just kidding about the latter - man will always be inventive enough to overcome that (google: cave paintings). So anyway, here's the problem: you're basically hungry and you dont know where or what to eat, and if you do get the chance to order, the food might be bad for you or your finances or your reproductive system (maybe, who knows).
That's where McDonald's comes into play. Here are the benefits a foreigner gets from having a McDonald's branch near him:
- McDonald's has the universally recognizable symbol. The golden arch logo is a beacon that's more easily recognized than the red cross. To prove that it's more universal, if you go to the middle east, there's no red cross. It is replaced by a red crescent. Meanwhile, the McDonald's logo stays the same. So if you're travelling in some godforsaken alien country and you see it, you can say to yourself "Ah yes, McDonald's. Now I can rest." You don't have to know how to read in a foreign language. You know it's McDonald's just by the logo.
- The menu items and taste almost always never changes. The Big Mac in the States will more or less taste the same as that in Saudi Arabia. There will always be a Quarter Pounder on the menu (except in India, where it's forbidden to it beef. So they put human flesh instead - but they go out of their way just to make it taste like cow, which begs the question why cow is such a hard meat to eat in a country where half of it's population is already starving to death.) And the fries will always taste like fries. So as long as you're eating in a McDonald's, you can at least guarantee your tongue that you're not going to be playing hit and miss with the taste. Sure it won't taste too good, but at least you know how bad it gets already. Note that I did say "almost always" because when I was in Japan, McChicken became Chicken Tatsuta Sandwhich, which is basically seaweed, kelp and dead, undercooked chicken in a sandwich. Those sick people. Why did they have to call it something else when it tastes the same?
- The food items almost always are called the same. Well, not really. The pronounciation can be very different all over the world. But it's most certainly easier to order at McDonalds than to order a "lopangkauratatingpaktol" in the nearby thai restaurant and get the head of a dead moose on a soup bowl. The accents are not too different anyway. Like Mexicans call McNuggets "McNogads" or Arabs call Cheeseburgers "Yisberger yalalalah! Jihad! Yalalalalalah!" (just kidding, they dont yell that twice) but you get the idea most of the time. You already know what to order and they understand you. I said "almost always" again because of the Chicken Tatsuta example.
- Lastly, McDonald's almost always has restrooms. Unless you fancy peeing on the streets with your trousers on and you're zipper zipped up, this is always a blessing for the desperate tourist. I cant count how many times I've seen people saved from embarassment because of this feature.
McDonald's is a save point because it saves.
Now I'm not sure about the solution to world peace. But if ever there's a call for a unified government that transcends all borders of colors and ethnicity, I wouldn't be looking at the United Nations for a working pattern. I'd take a look at McDonald's and say
"Sig Heil! Sig Heil! Sig Heil!"
*In case you're old, technophobic, old-fashioned, amish, or just plain stupid, a "save point" is a term used in video games where you are able to save/store your the progress of long games such as role playing games so even after you have switched off the console, you will still be able to fail where you last failed. In some games, this is also where you can get your game life replenished. Public Static: Saving the world one idiot at a time.
Putting The Emo In Remote.
Tuesday, December 26, 2006
There are few things in our house that get lost more often than the remote controls of the televisions. And even though we live in a flat no bigger than 50 meters, looking for the remote control is always like digging for oil - a successful find is based on luck, politicking, basic geodesy and getting down and dirty while digging through rubbish for a potential hit.
And it's not like anybody intentionally hides the remote control. It's like the puzzling phenomenon of the tangling of cords, hairstrands, garden hoses, rope or just about anything long enough to get tangled. Nobody really intends to entangle those things and yet, it's almost like mysterious elves come into your house when you're not looking and play Dr. Quack Quack with those things, so you have something to fuss over later. Anyway, losing a remote control is basically like that. It just disappears (even though nobody claims to have last used it - and nobody probably ever will.)
It's amazing how far a simple remote control can get. Seriously. Here's a list of places where we've found the remote controls of the televisions at home over the years:
- Inside the freezer
- Inside the bathroom
- Waste basket
- Inside the car - after a very long road trip
- Kingdom of Saudi Arabia
For the last case, the remote's actually for the TV inside our house in the same country. But yeah, it did get lost (and I'm not sure whether we ever found it, or if we had to buy a new one). So when the Americans tell you they cant find Bin Laden in the desert, take their word for it. Just because the place is filled with nothing but sand doesnt mean it's any easier to find stuff there. In any case, Bin Laden is probably hiding with the remote control - so the chances of ever finding either of them is bleak.
Then there's the game of "last touch". When I say "last touch" this does not necessarily mean the last person who actually used it. Oh no, that'd be too easy. What we have here is a basic democracy of mooting systematically until somebody gets pissed and begins blatantly accusing one of the house members who the accuser things is the last person who last "touched" it. It's like playing Cluedo - except the crime is stealing and deliberately "hiding" the remote control. And crime per se is not a requirement. Motive is often enough.
As if getting accused that you've hidden the remote is bad enough, when evidence gets found that potentially incrimates you (i.e. the remote was found somewhere near your personal belongings, like 10 meters away from your bag) - you're already as guilty as Hitler.
And the punishment? Nothing really. Think of it as getting caught shoplifting where your picture gets plastered on every cashier and entrance of a supermarket and any missing goods will always be blamed on the "usual gang of suspect" (suspect, because it'll be clear that by rep you're always working alone). In the same light, all missing remote controls will be attributed to you for the next, let's say, twenty years to life.
I may or may not have experienced this once or thrice in my lifetime.
Clearly, there's a problem with the system.
As a solution to the problem , I suggested that we place the remote on top of the TV after we're done using it. And the reply I got?
"It's a remote control. Having to get near the TV to use it defeats its purpose."
One cannot simply beat that arguement.
And it's not like anybody intentionally hides the remote control. It's like the puzzling phenomenon of the tangling of cords, hairstrands, garden hoses, rope or just about anything long enough to get tangled. Nobody really intends to entangle those things and yet, it's almost like mysterious elves come into your house when you're not looking and play Dr. Quack Quack with those things, so you have something to fuss over later. Anyway, losing a remote control is basically like that. It just disappears (even though nobody claims to have last used it - and nobody probably ever will.)
It's amazing how far a simple remote control can get. Seriously. Here's a list of places where we've found the remote controls of the televisions at home over the years:
- Inside the freezer
- Inside the bathroom
- Waste basket
- Inside the car - after a very long road trip
- Kingdom of Saudi Arabia
For the last case, the remote's actually for the TV inside our house in the same country. But yeah, it did get lost (and I'm not sure whether we ever found it, or if we had to buy a new one). So when the Americans tell you they cant find Bin Laden in the desert, take their word for it. Just because the place is filled with nothing but sand doesnt mean it's any easier to find stuff there. In any case, Bin Laden is probably hiding with the remote control - so the chances of ever finding either of them is bleak.
Then there's the game of "last touch". When I say "last touch" this does not necessarily mean the last person who actually used it. Oh no, that'd be too easy. What we have here is a basic democracy of mooting systematically until somebody gets pissed and begins blatantly accusing one of the house members who the accuser things is the last person who last "touched" it. It's like playing Cluedo - except the crime is stealing and deliberately "hiding" the remote control. And crime per se is not a requirement. Motive is often enough.
As if getting accused that you've hidden the remote is bad enough, when evidence gets found that potentially incrimates you (i.e. the remote was found somewhere near your personal belongings, like 10 meters away from your bag) - you're already as guilty as Hitler.
And the punishment? Nothing really. Think of it as getting caught shoplifting where your picture gets plastered on every cashier and entrance of a supermarket and any missing goods will always be blamed on the "usual gang of suspect" (suspect, because it'll be clear that by rep you're always working alone). In the same light, all missing remote controls will be attributed to you for the next, let's say, twenty years to life.
I may or may not have experienced this once or thrice in my lifetime.
Clearly, there's a problem with the system.
As a solution to the problem , I suggested that we place the remote on top of the TV after we're done using it. And the reply I got?
"It's a remote control. Having to get near the TV to use it defeats its purpose."
One cannot simply beat that arguement.
Not getting enough Christmas? Have a mug.
Friday, December 22, 2006
Bet you there's no object more unexpectedly yuletide that the common coffee mug. I have a theory that 80% of all coffee mugs are bought during christmas season, and in that figure, 90% of them end up as gifts, 5% end up as shards of glass after they got accidentally dropped during giftwrapping, and another 5% get carried over to the next christmas still to be given as gifts.
As a little experiment, consider all coffee mugs you have in the house/office. Enumerate all the mugs you have and ask yourself where they all came from. For my case, a staggering 100% of them came in as gifts, all of them as Christmas gifts.
What is it with people and giving coffee mugs anyway? Why coffee mugs? Why not other drinking/eating implements like utensils and glasses? Well, steak knives, I can understand. People just don't want to be digging their own graves. But I sure would like to see somebody giving a spoon instead - just to be different.
Don't get me wrong, I'm not against the practice of giving mugs. Hell, I'd be worried if the world suddenly turned around and frowned at the giving of mugs for gifts (not that they really dont, they do, but in secret) - I still have a couple of dozen coffee mugs at home waiting for new "lucky" owners. That's called long-term investment right there.
Maybe there's a cheesy line that came with the giving of the first ever coffee mug gift that got lost in translation/time. Like maybe the girl giving her sweetheart a mug said "I want you to remember me everytime you drink coffee - hot, smooth, and keeps you up all night." Or something like that.
I'd like to think of that everytime I recieve a mug. It always warrants me a smile.
Only there's one problem.
I don't drink coffee.
As a little experiment, consider all coffee mugs you have in the house/office. Enumerate all the mugs you have and ask yourself where they all came from. For my case, a staggering 100% of them came in as gifts, all of them as Christmas gifts.
What is it with people and giving coffee mugs anyway? Why coffee mugs? Why not other drinking/eating implements like utensils and glasses? Well, steak knives, I can understand. People just don't want to be digging their own graves. But I sure would like to see somebody giving a spoon instead - just to be different.
Don't get me wrong, I'm not against the practice of giving mugs. Hell, I'd be worried if the world suddenly turned around and frowned at the giving of mugs for gifts (not that they really dont, they do, but in secret) - I still have a couple of dozen coffee mugs at home waiting for new "lucky" owners. That's called long-term investment right there.
Maybe there's a cheesy line that came with the giving of the first ever coffee mug gift that got lost in translation/time. Like maybe the girl giving her sweetheart a mug said "I want you to remember me everytime you drink coffee - hot, smooth, and keeps you up all night." Or something like that.
I'd like to think of that everytime I recieve a mug. It always warrants me a smile.
Only there's one problem.
I don't drink coffee.
Remix The World
Monday, December 18, 2006
I don't know how this happens but at about this time every Christmas, remixes of all of this year's popular pop songs/novelty songs (as in batshit-insane-it's-everywhere -even-in-the-jeepneys kind of popular) start coming out of the woodwork. Dead meme songs come back to life as remixes, reminiscent of zombies coming out to eat people in City of The Dead - though I'm not too sure which one is really more painful, hearing the remixes or having your entrails chewed out by a Michael Jackson clone.
Who finds the time to make all these tracks up anyway? Since it's a remix, it should be one of the remix DJs around the country (because no, DJ Sasha of Mother Russia can't possibly waste his time remixing the latest track of Boom Tarat-Tarat) .
But since we don't have any Christmas DJs around who only appear during christmas spreading joy and laughter and remixed tracks of novelty songs, chances are the people doing these albums are the same DJs who mix your trance music at the local club. Creepy.
Is this their idea of a christmas gift? If I had a DJ friend and I know he's into Christmas remixes, I'd warn him before hand. "You better not be giving me one of those Christmas Remixes - or so help me God I'll have you greeting Jesus face-to-face in heaven."
Did I mention I hate Christmas Remixes? Ah yes. I hate Christmas Remixes.
Who finds the time to make all these tracks up anyway? Since it's a remix, it should be one of the remix DJs around the country (because no, DJ Sasha of Mother Russia can't possibly waste his time remixing the latest track of Boom Tarat-Tarat) .But since we don't have any Christmas DJs around who only appear during christmas spreading joy and laughter and remixed tracks of novelty songs, chances are the people doing these albums are the same DJs who mix your trance music at the local club. Creepy.
Is this their idea of a christmas gift? If I had a DJ friend and I know he's into Christmas remixes, I'd warn him before hand. "You better not be giving me one of those Christmas Remixes - or so help me God I'll have you greeting Jesus face-to-face in heaven."
Did I mention I hate Christmas Remixes? Ah yes. I hate Christmas Remixes.
GTFO of the Water.
Friday, December 15, 2006
I love swimming. It's probably the only sport where you can get tired without actually having to deal with wiping sweat. You don't even have to worry about losing fluids from sweat since they inevitably go back to you when you accidentally swallow that mouthful of pool water. Boom! That's human-centered recycling right there.
Swimming is also a flexible activity. Sometimes you're doing it for exercise, sometimes for the glory of winning, and sometimes you do it so you don't die. When you're doing it to beat your best time, that's a good thing. When you're doing it to beat a tidal wave, that's probably a bad thing. When you're doing it with your friends, that's probably a good thing. When you're doing it with a school of 10-foot great white sharks, it doesn't take a Jacques Cousteau to know you're fucked.
The purpose of swimming also depends on where you're doing it. When you're doing it in clear water with a slight tint of blue - that's a good thing. When you're swimming in puddly brown water with the remains of a house and a Ford F150 racing past you - that can't be a good thing.
And then, you also have the choice of which stroke you can use - there are not a lot of sports that give you different ways of doing the same thing - travelling. In terms of cycling, your coach will be saying "Wow you can cycle really fast, Armstrong. Can you do it with just one leg?" And even if you could, and fast enough, he'd go "Try doing it facing backwards so you don't see what's in front of you."
Maan I hate backstroke. The only thing that you ever see is the ceiling (if indoors) or the sky (if in the middle of the ocean). I bet the sharks would think of strokes on swimmers as methods of cooking an egg.
Shark: I'd like my swimmer hairy side up, please.
Swimmer doing backstroke: *gets eaten*.
Who invents strokes anyway? Like who's the smartass who thought the butterfly stroke should become really famous? Dolphin kick my ass.
inventor: You know, I think I want to invent something new today.
inventor2: Like what?
inventor: A new way of swimming.
inventor2: Whoah. How are you planning to do that?
inventor: Simple, instead of alternately using my two feet, I'll use them at the same time. And instead of alternately using both my arms, I'll use them at the same time too.
inventor2: Won't that look silly?
inventor: Not if we give them good names.
inventor2: Like?
inventor: Dolphin kick for the kick.
inventor2: Ooooh. Everybody loevs dolphins.
inventor: And then butterfly for the stroke itself.
inventor2: Why butterfly?
inventor: I like butterflies.
inventor2: Pure genius.
No really. Butterfly stroke is retarded. Only a good few can perform it properly, and those who can can't even use it longer than other strokes.
And then there's the issue of entering the water as gracefully as possible - diving. You can tell grace by just hearing the sound of the entry. And you don't even have to be a professional judge to do it. If it makes a "plok" sound the same way shit does when it hits the bowl - it's a good dive. When it makes a loud slapping sound, expect to produce tons of laughter as you watch the diver writhe in agonizing pain before sinking to the bottom of the pool and floating back up purplish after a few days.
On pools, avoid the kiddie pool as much as possible, even if you don't know how to swim. Sure it looks safe. And sure, you can't possibly drown on knee-deep water (unless you go diving and make a "plok" sound). But the damage of kiddie pools is more a long-term one. Perform this little experiment. Get a cup full of adult pool water and kiddie pool water of the same amount. Compare and contrast the color of the two contents. That yellowish tinge is not diluted pixie dust. Trust me, even Tinker Bell won't go near those children after they've gone to the water.
Tinker. (*laugh out loud*)
Last message:
Underwear does not belong on the pool. Remove it and wear proper pool attire for crissakes. That's water you'll be swallowing anyway.
Swimming is also a flexible activity. Sometimes you're doing it for exercise, sometimes for the glory of winning, and sometimes you do it so you don't die. When you're doing it to beat your best time, that's a good thing. When you're doing it to beat a tidal wave, that's probably a bad thing. When you're doing it with your friends, that's probably a good thing. When you're doing it with a school of 10-foot great white sharks, it doesn't take a Jacques Cousteau to know you're fucked.
The purpose of swimming also depends on where you're doing it. When you're doing it in clear water with a slight tint of blue - that's a good thing. When you're swimming in puddly brown water with the remains of a house and a Ford F150 racing past you - that can't be a good thing.
And then, you also have the choice of which stroke you can use - there are not a lot of sports that give you different ways of doing the same thing - travelling. In terms of cycling, your coach will be saying "Wow you can cycle really fast, Armstrong. Can you do it with just one leg?" And even if you could, and fast enough, he'd go "Try doing it facing backwards so you don't see what's in front of you."
Maan I hate backstroke. The only thing that you ever see is the ceiling (if indoors) or the sky (if in the middle of the ocean). I bet the sharks would think of strokes on swimmers as methods of cooking an egg.
Shark: I'd like my swimmer hairy side up, please.
Swimmer doing backstroke: *gets eaten*.
Who invents strokes anyway? Like who's the smartass who thought the butterfly stroke should become really famous? Dolphin kick my ass.
inventor: You know, I think I want to invent something new today.
inventor2: Like what?
inventor: A new way of swimming.
inventor2: Whoah. How are you planning to do that?
inventor: Simple, instead of alternately using my two feet, I'll use them at the same time. And instead of alternately using both my arms, I'll use them at the same time too.
inventor2: Won't that look silly?
inventor: Not if we give them good names.
inventor2: Like?
inventor: Dolphin kick for the kick.
inventor2: Ooooh. Everybody loevs dolphins.
inventor: And then butterfly for the stroke itself.
inventor2: Why butterfly?
inventor: I like butterflies.
inventor2: Pure genius.
No really. Butterfly stroke is retarded. Only a good few can perform it properly, and those who can can't even use it longer than other strokes.
And then there's the issue of entering the water as gracefully as possible - diving. You can tell grace by just hearing the sound of the entry. And you don't even have to be a professional judge to do it. If it makes a "plok" sound the same way shit does when it hits the bowl - it's a good dive. When it makes a loud slapping sound, expect to produce tons of laughter as you watch the diver writhe in agonizing pain before sinking to the bottom of the pool and floating back up purplish after a few days.
On pools, avoid the kiddie pool as much as possible, even if you don't know how to swim. Sure it looks safe. And sure, you can't possibly drown on knee-deep water (unless you go diving and make a "plok" sound). But the damage of kiddie pools is more a long-term one. Perform this little experiment. Get a cup full of adult pool water and kiddie pool water of the same amount. Compare and contrast the color of the two contents. That yellowish tinge is not diluted pixie dust. Trust me, even Tinker Bell won't go near those children after they've gone to the water.
Tinker. (*laugh out loud*)
Last message:
Underwear does not belong on the pool. Remove it and wear proper pool attire for crissakes. That's water you'll be swallowing anyway.
Dos and Donts of Exchange Gifts
Tuesday, December 12, 2006
Let's face it. We're all afraid of the unknown. Not knowing about something is oftentimes more scary than knowing the details, because the last thing anybody ever wants is getting caught with their pants down and johnnies up. In the same light, exchange gifts can be just as scary.
Giving a gift is scary because you don't know how well the person recieving it will react - with the reactions ranging from a french kiss to serveral new gun holes on your forehead. If giving gifts can be likened to a roller coaster, random exchange gifts can be likened to riding that same roller coaster while nine months pregnant. Double jeopardy - you can't even get an idea on who will be receiving the gift because everything is drawn out randomly.
So basically you'll be buying stuff you wouldn't want for yourself for people you don't know, who will react in a way you can't possibly guess, who's view of you for the next 364 days or so will be gauged on that single gift.
Take this short break as an opportunity to change your pants in case you've wet yourself reading the previous statement. (It's excusable)
That said, I've prepared a short list of things that you should be aware of when inevitably partaking in this activity. Just because it's scary doesn't mean we can't face it unprepared (well, sort of).
1. Don't use live animals as gifts.
Trust me, even if it fits the "worth 500" category nicely, pets are anything but pleasant gifts. I remember a couple of years ago, my company had a "something alive" theme for the gifts. A few hours before the gift giving, several of the animals broke out and started turning the storage room into their own wildlife preserve. Several pets were lost during the incidents, including 1 garter snake, 2 dead rabbits and 1 sysad whose body is still missing.
2. Do wrap your gifts properly.
This is probably the only good thing that you can really get good at in exchange gift activities, because no matter who the person who will be receiving the gift is, they'll really appreciate seeing effort in the wrapping without thinking money spent on the wrapping is money taken away from the value of the actual gift. Presentation counts. Here's a short list of good and bad things to use for wrapping things:
Good:
- Brand new paper giftwrappers.
- Shipment container used for import cars.
- Dollar bills taped to each other.
- Chocolate coating.
Bad:
- Used giftwrappers.
- 10 year-old newspapers.
- 10 year-olds.
- Hospital bandages.
3. Don't choose gifts suggestive of any sort of fetish.
When buying gifts, it's good to buy gifts that you know everybody will enjoy. However, there's a limit to this. When choosing what gift to wrap in your choice of wrapping medium, always consider that the gift should be enjoyable AND enjoyable in public. Remember that gifts will be opened in front of everybody during a party. The last thing you want is that somebody you've graced with your gift running around chasing you with a battery-operated twelve-inch dildo in hand with an intent to kill you from behind (Haha.)
True story: During one of our kris kringles, an officemate gave me a wrapped gift for a "Something naughty theme". Being a very busy man, I gave the gift to my younger sister so she can unwrap it. As it turns out, the gift was a gay porn VCD complete with a colored cover of two men slapping salamis. They havent found the body of that officemate, and I don't think they ever will.
4. Do try to get gender/age inspecific gifts.
In line with the item above, it's also wrong to choose a gift that will only be usable to the opposite sex/age bracket. Tampons, for example, are not useful to men, no matter how hard you try to improvise. Viagra and horse porn aren't good choices either since you won't be too sure if the recipient will be a horny old man who fancies farm-bred ass ( in case he gets both).
As a counterpostulate, I'd just like to state that things like money, cellphone load, and post-dated cheques do not count as gender-inspecific gifts, or gifts for that matter, specially when it comes to exchange gift activities.
5. Do make sure you get the recipient's name right.
There's nothing more annoying that somebody who gives a gift and still gets the name, or codename, wrong. Whatever sense of thoughtfulness the gift has vanishes when your name gets all f'ed up. Seriously. Spellcheck. It's only a few letters. Get it right.
6. Don't write your name on the gift box.
This is the last advice. Give the gift but don't write your name on the box. If anything happens, at least you don't have your name on the evidence. Any lawyer that you might be needing in the future (if ever) will be grateful you've done that part right. In case shit, you can just go run around screaming "Don't shoot the messenger!" without any pants on. It works really well, specially if the room isn't too cold.
So there you have it. My short guide to exchange gifts. Happy wrapping and I hope you survive to experience next year's exchange gift again!
Giving a gift is scary because you don't know how well the person recieving it will react - with the reactions ranging from a french kiss to serveral new gun holes on your forehead. If giving gifts can be likened to a roller coaster, random exchange gifts can be likened to riding that same roller coaster while nine months pregnant. Double jeopardy - you can't even get an idea on who will be receiving the gift because everything is drawn out randomly.
So basically you'll be buying stuff you wouldn't want for yourself for people you don't know, who will react in a way you can't possibly guess, who's view of you for the next 364 days or so will be gauged on that single gift.
Take this short break as an opportunity to change your pants in case you've wet yourself reading the previous statement. (It's excusable)
That said, I've prepared a short list of things that you should be aware of when inevitably partaking in this activity. Just because it's scary doesn't mean we can't face it unprepared (well, sort of).
1. Don't use live animals as gifts.
Trust me, even if it fits the "worth 500" category nicely, pets are anything but pleasant gifts. I remember a couple of years ago, my company had a "something alive" theme for the gifts. A few hours before the gift giving, several of the animals broke out and started turning the storage room into their own wildlife preserve. Several pets were lost during the incidents, including 1 garter snake, 2 dead rabbits and 1 sysad whose body is still missing.
2. Do wrap your gifts properly.
This is probably the only good thing that you can really get good at in exchange gift activities, because no matter who the person who will be receiving the gift is, they'll really appreciate seeing effort in the wrapping without thinking money spent on the wrapping is money taken away from the value of the actual gift. Presentation counts. Here's a short list of good and bad things to use for wrapping things:
Good:
- Brand new paper giftwrappers.
- Shipment container used for import cars.
- Dollar bills taped to each other.
- Chocolate coating.
Bad:
- Used giftwrappers.
- 10 year-old newspapers.
- 10 year-olds.
- Hospital bandages.
3. Don't choose gifts suggestive of any sort of fetish.
When buying gifts, it's good to buy gifts that you know everybody will enjoy. However, there's a limit to this. When choosing what gift to wrap in your choice of wrapping medium, always consider that the gift should be enjoyable AND enjoyable in public. Remember that gifts will be opened in front of everybody during a party. The last thing you want is that somebody you've graced with your gift running around chasing you with a battery-operated twelve-inch dildo in hand with an intent to kill you from behind (Haha.)
True story: During one of our kris kringles, an officemate gave me a wrapped gift for a "Something naughty theme". Being a very busy man, I gave the gift to my younger sister so she can unwrap it. As it turns out, the gift was a gay porn VCD complete with a colored cover of two men slapping salamis. They havent found the body of that officemate, and I don't think they ever will.
4. Do try to get gender/age inspecific gifts.
In line with the item above, it's also wrong to choose a gift that will only be usable to the opposite sex/age bracket. Tampons, for example, are not useful to men, no matter how hard you try to improvise. Viagra and horse porn aren't good choices either since you won't be too sure if the recipient will be a horny old man who fancies farm-bred ass ( in case he gets both).
As a counterpostulate, I'd just like to state that things like money, cellphone load, and post-dated cheques do not count as gender-inspecific gifts, or gifts for that matter, specially when it comes to exchange gift activities.
5. Do make sure you get the recipient's name right.
There's nothing more annoying that somebody who gives a gift and still gets the name, or codename, wrong. Whatever sense of thoughtfulness the gift has vanishes when your name gets all f'ed up. Seriously. Spellcheck. It's only a few letters. Get it right.
6. Don't write your name on the gift box.
This is the last advice. Give the gift but don't write your name on the box. If anything happens, at least you don't have your name on the evidence. Any lawyer that you might be needing in the future (if ever) will be grateful you've done that part right. In case shit, you can just go run around screaming "Don't shoot the messenger!" without any pants on. It works really well, specially if the room isn't too cold.
So there you have it. My short guide to exchange gifts. Happy wrapping and I hope you survive to experience next year's exchange gift again!
The Numbers of Love
Monday, December 04, 2006
Aristophanes was one of the first people who proposed in document that love is basically finding the other half that makes you whole: a soul mate. This was 2,500 years ago - 10,000 in dog years, if you're counting, and 1,250 in tortoise years if you hate big numbers.
Since then, the whole business of romance and destinism and the unending quest to determine one's soul mate has evolved from a shot of wine's rant to a belief to a cult to a religion to a culture and finally an immutable pillar of contemporary Westernized civilization as the principle of fated monogamy. It's like that large post in the middle of the building lobby that occasionally collides with some happy idiot unaware of its presence.
But then again, 2,500 years ago, we all thought the world was flat too. 2,500 years ago, it was safe to believe such things because of three things: it was convenient, it separated us from animals, and it was difficult to prove otherwise.
Well, we all laugh at the idea that the world is flat and is carried by the back of a turtle named Pong the Great. We now call the turtle "Earth", and he's less like a turtle now and more like a circular rock orbiting a large cosmic bonfire singing campfire songs.
But we still believe in the monogamist soul mate theory, because:
a) it's convenient
b) it's romantic and
c) the otherwise can't be proven.
It doesn't end there.
Although we do not have divorce here in the Philippines, recent surveys conducted by a social weather group pegged three couples out of five who are in a state of unhappiness at age 35-40 - ripe for a nonexistent motion for divorce. That means even though you've spent a generous amount of your non-sterile life looking for your mate, there's still a large chance you'll fail at finding Mr. or Ms. Perfect.
In nature, monogamy does exist, but the numbers aren't favoring the cause. 90% of birds are monogamous. In mammals, only 3% are monogamous. Although the number rises to 15% in primates, it is said that man isn't included in the 3 of 20 of the odds. In short, nobody expects man to be monogamous except himself. The average orangutan, for example, does not wait for his dream girl to come. The moment he becomes sexually active at age 15, he starts looking for a mate - any mate he can get his hands on, and shall continue to seek new mates throughout his effective lifespan. At that age, a human boy can only look to the stars and his hand - any activity becoming of the young orangutan's shall be frowned upon (and penalized where such applies)
But it has not. 2,500 years hence, we're still the same clueless tards before - only with jeans isntead of air-cool robes.
Listen, I'm saying all of this not because I'm a cynical bastard who thinks love is just our brain's wire way of tricking us to copulate. That's of another issue. I'm telling you this because as a man/woman from the future looking back at 2,500 years of chasing and dreaming, you can do better than just that.
You don't need a special someone to validate your existence. You're special already with our without him/her. And while we're at it, stop thinking that there is indeed a special person in this world destined by fate to be just for you. That leaves you with so much expectation. And where there is expectation, disappointment usually follows.
Added to that, there's also this thought that without that fated person, you're incomplete. That's bullshit. You're beautiful already the way you are. You are not some lost item of God's two-for-one sale. Leave that for twins (and in such cases, the term "double delight" should be used instead). That's if you're theist. If you're atheist, well, why the fuck are you even reading this when you can go proclaim your "deep profound understanding in the belief of nothing"?
Anatomically, you do not need constant reassurance of another person who has more than 95% similar biological structure to you save for few missing/interchanged body parts. Your existence is guaranteed with or without a partner because you're complete already as you are.
It is said that man is the animal with the longest mating season of all - 360 plus days in a year, life's a simple dance of orgy. It doesn't have to be that way. There's more to life than just you and your soul mate.
When the time comes, the Emperor penguin selects his mate from a colony of more than a million, and he indicates his choice by rolling a stone at the female's feet. If she accepts this gift, they stand belly to belly and sing a mating song. The whole process lasts for about a day.
His brain is wired to select the best possible mate in the existing group. He does not dream of having one that he cannot see. And he does not dream about it before the mating season comes. Before that, he's just happy to be not eaten by killer whales, sea lions, and eskimos.
You're lucky you don't have to deal with the killers as much as a penguin does. Because, like I said, you can do better. Quit dreaming and wait for your mate when he or she comes. When "it" does happen, learn to accept your mate for who or she is and not for what you think fate has in store for you.
Between you and me, I think love is not a secret power that's grantedly unlocked between two people destined for each other. It's the strength constantly exerted by a couple to be together because they think they're at best odds emotionally, physically and mentally. This strength, to overcome what may come their way.
At least, it's more logical to think of it that way.
But then again, that's just me.
The heart is perfectly good for pumping blood and keeping all parts of the body well sustinenced. It helps regulate all muscular, anabolic and catabolic reactions in you. No one is sure how it's evolved to develop such proficiency in so many essential activities for sustaining life. One thing is for sure though, it wasn't evolved to make logical decisions.
Live with your heart. Think with your head.
That’s what makes you beautiful.
---------------------------
This article is commissioned by somebody who wishes to be anonymous, and is published only with due permission. To preserve value of the actual article, I'm posting the first draft by my own will. I would recommend that you talk to me first before you copypasta.
Dates, Dates, Dates
Saturday, December 02, 2006
There are just some dates that don't work out the way they're supposed to. Or not supposed to, depending on your level of pessimism and/or menstrual angst. I was thinking of a really curious way to dispel a date faster than antibiotics kills dysmenorreha [sic] while passing time in MoA earlier. This is what came out:
girl: Isn't this just dreamy? I think I've seen this scene in a movie before.
guy: yeah, every date with you is like watching widscreen version.
girl: excuse me, what did you just say?
guy: Sorry, I wasn't saying it clearly enough. I mean, I feel like I'm with IMAX.
girl: IMAX? How dare you! I'm not that fat!
guy: and every time the feature is always about bigass dinosaurs on PMS.
girl: This date is so over.
guy: Great, I've been wanting to watch some other movie already.
guy: This whole godzilla thing is no longer working out for me.
girl: Fuck you and your entire clan!
guy: That expression of yours will make good promotional poster by the way.
guy: Just a tip.
Sometimes you just have to put your best foot forward during a date. Othertimes, it's that same foot that must go up somebody else's ass. If you're the guy in this case, it'd be your foot up your own ass - probably shoved by an enraged date.
I'd rather be dead than be caught saying that to a date. God knows what happens when you cross that fine line into the territory of unprovoked comments about woman's weight. I've had several friends missing already because of that.
I still see there faces.
On the back of milk cartons.
Well not really but it'll probably say:
HAVE YOU SEEN HIS MAN?
Noberto Cruz, aged 20, he was last seen wearing longsleeves and funky date hair.
Last known whereabout is somewhere in Tomas Morato with a date.
He was saying something about how some asses dont deserve shorty shorts.
If you see him, kindly notify him that he's the first one to actually surive a raging-demon-phenomenon.
So to all the guys out there, don't push it. You may think it's a good way to stop bad things from going wrong, but exploding an atomic bomb to fix an itch wont be worth it.
Unless of course you like pain in a strange erotic way.
In which case, make sure other people wont get caught in the blast.
Trust me, when it happens, people will get hurt.
girl: Isn't this just dreamy? I think I've seen this scene in a movie before.
guy: yeah, every date with you is like watching widscreen version.
girl: excuse me, what did you just say?
guy: Sorry, I wasn't saying it clearly enough. I mean, I feel like I'm with IMAX.
girl: IMAX? How dare you! I'm not that fat!
guy: and every time the feature is always about bigass dinosaurs on PMS.
girl: This date is so over.
guy: Great, I've been wanting to watch some other movie already.
guy: This whole godzilla thing is no longer working out for me.
girl: Fuck you and your entire clan!
guy: That expression of yours will make good promotional poster by the way.
guy: Just a tip.
Sometimes you just have to put your best foot forward during a date. Othertimes, it's that same foot that must go up somebody else's ass. If you're the guy in this case, it'd be your foot up your own ass - probably shoved by an enraged date.
I'd rather be dead than be caught saying that to a date. God knows what happens when you cross that fine line into the territory of unprovoked comments about woman's weight. I've had several friends missing already because of that.
I still see there faces.
On the back of milk cartons.
Well not really but it'll probably say:
HAVE YOU SEEN HIS MAN?
Noberto Cruz, aged 20, he was last seen wearing longsleeves and funky date hair.
Last known whereabout is somewhere in Tomas Morato with a date.
He was saying something about how some asses dont deserve shorty shorts.
If you see him, kindly notify him that he's the first one to actually surive a raging-demon-phenomenon.
So to all the guys out there, don't push it. You may think it's a good way to stop bad things from going wrong, but exploding an atomic bomb to fix an itch wont be worth it.
Unless of course you like pain in a strange erotic way.
In which case, make sure other people wont get caught in the blast.
Trust me, when it happens, people will get hurt.
Why I Took Up Computer Programming
Friday, December 01, 2006
Two words: Computer Man.
In case you're not old enough, Computer Man is a superhero series that was aired during the early 90s starring Eric Quizon as the superhero who goes by the name "Computer Man".
Computer man wears black tights adorned by a singular symbol of the milky way. A hacker by profession (yes, there were hackers already during the 90's), he got struck by strange light from the milky way, which gave him the ability to get inside computers and the power to turn into bits (that's how they explained it) and travel through electric wiring.
(Dammit, I don't have to answer all your silly questions about why he got hit like that, why his powers are related to computers and how the hell the producers found association between stars and computers. It's just that way. Stop playing CSI on my ass.)
As a kid I found the show cool. Buddy from Buddy and Sol kicking ass. What a sight! And he likes computers too! I enjoyed it. Apparently there weren't a lot of people giving the same reaction as future-nerd young-version of me.
The show got cancelled after a few months, probably because of the shitty sidekick he had - computer kid. God I hate that kid. If computer man is a program, he'd be like a bug - the annoying type that causes everything to hang up.
So anyway, I thought, if I became a hacker, maybe I can get hit by some strange ray from outerspace too and get the ability to digitize myself and travel inside computers via the internet.
Oh man, think of the porn. Well, I'm a programmer now and I think I have enough know-hows in hacking. I have my black suit ready too.
Now about that cosmic ray...
In case you're not old enough, Computer Man is a superhero series that was aired during the early 90s starring Eric Quizon as the superhero who goes by the name "Computer Man".
Computer man wears black tights adorned by a singular symbol of the milky way. A hacker by profession (yes, there were hackers already during the 90's), he got struck by strange light from the milky way, which gave him the ability to get inside computers and the power to turn into bits (that's how they explained it) and travel through electric wiring.
(Dammit, I don't have to answer all your silly questions about why he got hit like that, why his powers are related to computers and how the hell the producers found association between stars and computers. It's just that way. Stop playing CSI on my ass.)
As a kid I found the show cool. Buddy from Buddy and Sol kicking ass. What a sight! And he likes computers too! I enjoyed it. Apparently there weren't a lot of people giving the same reaction as future-nerd young-version of me.
The show got cancelled after a few months, probably because of the shitty sidekick he had - computer kid. God I hate that kid. If computer man is a program, he'd be like a bug - the annoying type that causes everything to hang up.
So anyway, I thought, if I became a hacker, maybe I can get hit by some strange ray from outerspace too and get the ability to digitize myself and travel inside computers via the internet.
Oh man, think of the porn. Well, I'm a programmer now and I think I have enough know-hows in hacking. I have my black suit ready too.
Now about that cosmic ray...
Los Baños Botanical Garden
Monday, November 27, 2006
So a friend of mine and I were talking about having gone to UP Los Baños at some point in our lives. I then think, who hasn't? Anybody who's been to enough field f'ing trips back in gradeschool/highschool should have gone there at least twice. I can't even count how many times I've been there. UPLB Botanical Garden is like a fieldtrip mecca. It's like no matter where we're supposed to be going for that field trip, we always end up having lunch/taking hikes in the UPLB botanical gardens. Swear. If it's not Jose Rizal's shitty house, it's the freaking botanical garden. And given the choice between the two, the latter always wins.
But then again, UPLB botanical gardens is anything but a garden.
A garden is where you take leisurely walks with flatland grass and shrubbery around you, and butterflies and other stuff. Then go you for tea or some other snack like crumpets and toffees. That's what I call garden. This botanical garden means going into steep trails that are slippery and wet 50% of the time (usually around the time most schools decide to go have a field trip here). There's no food available and the "botanical" part is basically big ass trees that you can see in any other part of the freaking mountain that you're on (because hey, you're in a mountain - trees are EVERYWHERE).
People don't even bother to give you a lowdown on what you can do there. They just tell you "Don't get lost. Don't drink the water in the stream. Don't die."
And then there's always this one idiot who slips/falls down/drowns in ankle-deep water everytime we go there. Always. What a party spoiler. I'm not saying going there can be likened to a party, but if ever there was one, having somebody die on you kinda spoils the fun (because the red from the blood doesnt match green). My teacher says it's probably Mariang Makiling at work (the resident faerie from folklore). I say it's just the omnipresent power of stupidity to screw things up.
Maaan I hate that place.
Minor note:
If you're Filipino and up to now you still dont know how to type the enye (ñ) on your keyboard, go chew on it. It's (hold)alt+165+(release)alt. Ñente?
Update:
I accidentally wrote 169. Slip of the Freud. Tit wasnt intentional. I swear.
But then again, UPLB botanical gardens is anything but a garden.
A garden is where you take leisurely walks with flatland grass and shrubbery around you, and butterflies and other stuff. Then go you for tea or some other snack like crumpets and toffees. That's what I call garden. This botanical garden means going into steep trails that are slippery and wet 50% of the time (usually around the time most schools decide to go have a field trip here). There's no food available and the "botanical" part is basically big ass trees that you can see in any other part of the freaking mountain that you're on (because hey, you're in a mountain - trees are EVERYWHERE).
People don't even bother to give you a lowdown on what you can do there. They just tell you "Don't get lost. Don't drink the water in the stream. Don't die."
And then there's always this one idiot who slips/falls down/drowns in ankle-deep water everytime we go there. Always. What a party spoiler. I'm not saying going there can be likened to a party, but if ever there was one, having somebody die on you kinda spoils the fun (because the red from the blood doesnt match green). My teacher says it's probably Mariang Makiling at work (the resident faerie from folklore). I say it's just the omnipresent power of stupidity to screw things up.
Maaan I hate that place.
Minor note:
If you're Filipino and up to now you still dont know how to type the enye (ñ) on your keyboard, go chew on it. It's (hold)alt+165+(release)alt. Ñente?
Update:
I accidentally wrote 169. Slip of the Freud. Tit wasnt intentional. I swear.
Library of The Ancients
Sunday, November 05, 2006
All schools have libraries. Granted everybody reading this blog had to do research sometime before the advent of internet winning over homework (lucky next generation bastards!), we all spent some time in our libraries.
I'd like the time to recall and share with you my experiences with our highschool library. Why? I think if libraries were school kids, our library would be the one wearing a helmet and riding the short bus to school.
A normal library contains history. There, we can go search books and find details about the past. For our library, this is not necessary. Our library IS historical. You can open the encyclopedia and you'll find everything there is outdated. The pope isn't anybody you'd recognize, countries that no longer exist are still there (Kampuchea and Congo anyone?) It got so bad that my friend checked Mao Tse Tung on one encyclopedia and found his birthdate but not his date year. (i.e. He wasnt dead yet as of writing.) I looked at an Atlas and half expected the world to be dictated as flat.
So maybe it's just the books that are outdated. Wrong. I routinely check our Time Magazine racks for new issues. Last issue there is March 1991. (When I found that issue, it was 1999 already) And that was the latest issue. If you checked stuff there, you'd see a LOT of articles about the cold war. And not in the hindsight perspective. It's like you've been blasted on a rocket of retardation to the past.
I don't really know why they keep things that way, with a couple of new buildings sprouting at about the same time I visited that library, I'm certain budget's not a problem. The closest clue that I can think of is our librarian, who, for the love of everything edible is always eating in her seat (and this same person has the gall to scream at students who smuggle gum inside). If you see her table, it's always like a buffet of sorts. Eating and updating catalogues don't mix it seems, effectively freezing our library in time.
Despite this problem, we were actually forced to go to the library every week, with a 1 hour library period allocated just for, well, staying at the library. No goals, no objectives, just pure STFU-and-stay-there-to-pass subject (like Art Appreciation 101 in college).
So here are the things we actually did during library period:
- Talk about the latest series of VHS porn circulating the classroom. Either that or WWF wrestling.
- Eat gum/candy anything we've smuggled in or found stashed among the books (stored there by other students, probably)
- Play desktop RPG (pen and paper)
- Play snake on the classroom's 3210 (since everybody has access to it)
- Gamble using the random function of our calculators or page numbers of really think books.
- Do assignment for the next period.
- Make kodigo if there's an exam following the library period.
A classmate of mind had his ears pierced during library period. Me? I'd rather sleep.
Before I graduated though, the library was finally demolished. Chances are, the books are actually better (i.e. with correct info) in the new library. It's probably a lot more useful now. But then again, how the hell do you stash food inside book racks that people are actually using?
Boo.
I'd like the time to recall and share with you my experiences with our highschool library. Why? I think if libraries were school kids, our library would be the one wearing a helmet and riding the short bus to school.
A normal library contains history. There, we can go search books and find details about the past. For our library, this is not necessary. Our library IS historical. You can open the encyclopedia and you'll find everything there is outdated. The pope isn't anybody you'd recognize, countries that no longer exist are still there (Kampuchea and Congo anyone?) It got so bad that my friend checked Mao Tse Tung on one encyclopedia and found his birthdate but not his date year. (i.e. He wasnt dead yet as of writing.) I looked at an Atlas and half expected the world to be dictated as flat.
So maybe it's just the books that are outdated. Wrong. I routinely check our Time Magazine racks for new issues. Last issue there is March 1991. (When I found that issue, it was 1999 already) And that was the latest issue. If you checked stuff there, you'd see a LOT of articles about the cold war. And not in the hindsight perspective. It's like you've been blasted on a rocket of retardation to the past.
I don't really know why they keep things that way, with a couple of new buildings sprouting at about the same time I visited that library, I'm certain budget's not a problem. The closest clue that I can think of is our librarian, who, for the love of everything edible is always eating in her seat (and this same person has the gall to scream at students who smuggle gum inside). If you see her table, it's always like a buffet of sorts. Eating and updating catalogues don't mix it seems, effectively freezing our library in time.
Despite this problem, we were actually forced to go to the library every week, with a 1 hour library period allocated just for, well, staying at the library. No goals, no objectives, just pure STFU-and-stay-there-to-pass subject (like Art Appreciation 101 in college).
So here are the things we actually did during library period:
- Talk about the latest series of VHS porn circulating the classroom. Either that or WWF wrestling.
- Eat gum/candy anything we've smuggled in or found stashed among the books (stored there by other students, probably)
- Play desktop RPG (pen and paper)
- Play snake on the classroom's 3210 (since everybody has access to it)
- Gamble using the random function of our calculators or page numbers of really think books.
- Do assignment for the next period.
- Make kodigo if there's an exam following the library period.
A classmate of mind had his ears pierced during library period. Me? I'd rather sleep.
Before I graduated though, the library was finally demolished. Chances are, the books are actually better (i.e. with correct info) in the new library. It's probably a lot more useful now. But then again, how the hell do you stash food inside book racks that people are actually using?
Boo.
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