# 33 MAHIRAP TALAGANG MAGING POGI
DISCLAIMER: This might have a been a very late post. A long-delayed reaction to the circulating email.
Many months ago, there was so much fuss about this gwaping in the internet. Laglag panty ng mga girls (even my bebe was awestruck). Much to the guys’ dismay, he is this world’s gorgeous man.
AHAHAHAAAY! The Papa of all Papas.
Anyhoo, we need not to look at his piercing eyes since we have our very own and he’s Aga 
THAT’S MY BHOOOY! The AGA of all AGAs.
True enough, his name is Aga. One of the most vocal Team Members of this country’s top car company. In one of our out-of-town seminars (where the company just wanted to show that it cares for its employees by asking them to make a Mission-Vision Statement), Aga was able to stir the whole crowd into one agitated labor group (kulang na nga lang picket line).
When this picture came out, he WAS reprimanded by management. I really don’t know why (it could be that some managers do not have a sense of humor). For me, this guy certainly makes me proud to be part of this car company and I took this rare chance to finally blog him and…
OH, HELL YEAH! The Showroom Manager chilling with Aga.
Even though I have not yet landed on a new job, I would surely miss the KAGAGUHAN in this Japanese car company.
Nevermind that we are underpaid at least we are talented. In juggling tasks.
Nevermind that we are underpaid at least we are smart. In squeezing huge expenses in a tight budget.
Nevermind that we are underpaid at least we are proud.
Very proud. To be in Aga’s company.
Thirty nine thousand seven hundred sixty one
Okay. Let me state that I am not a baseball fan. I know zilch about baseball players except maybe Joe Di Maggio because he was married to Marilyn Monroe. Oh, and Babe Ruth, because his name sounds like a candy bar (which I know isn’t named after him).
Anyone care to tell me why he was called Babe Ruth?
And please, don’t burn me at the stake for not knowing their stats. Like I told you, I am not a baseball fan. But I do agree that Derek Jeter has a really sexy ass.
So anyway, Melizza, my brother and I went to watch the game at Shea Stadium in Queens.
The weather was fine, a bit cool but not chilly. Until we applied the law of altitude: the higher you go, the colder it gets.
Tsk, tsk, tsk…really really really bad angle PJ.
Melizza and I were doing fine because we had our coats with us. Now here’s my I-just-broke-up-with-my-girlfriend-of-two-months-and-got-myself-a-new-one-fifteen-minutes-after brother trying hard not to look like his butt was freezing:
Let me give you aerial shots of the game:
Aaah, the wonders of digital zoom. The players evolved from white dots to half-centimeter white and blue dots!
You see that weirdo with the wig? He’s got gorgeous hazel eyes. I was trying to discreetly take a picture of his eyes but I don’t want to be accused of being a pedophile. The kid was probably around thirteen, sariwang-sariwa pa! Hahaha, kadiri.
Sooo…at the bottom of the ninth (naks, parang alam ang pinagsasasabi), the Mets won, 9 to 3.
Melizza and I didn’t even realize that the game was over because we were too busy doing the wave, watching the Kiss Cam (where the camera picks out couples in the crowd and they either kiss or try to eat each other alive) and eating exorbitant baseball food (a small bag of tortilla chips costs $5.25).
But to stick with tradition, pinatulan na din namin. Hotdogs, nachos and a beer (for Meme). I don’t know why but I half expected coins and bottles of mineral water to be thrown at the field. Hahaha, UAAP, is that you?
Maybe the reason why they call it the nosebleed section is not because we were seated so high up the stands but because people get nosebleeds from the unbelievably jacked-up prices of food.
Which makes me wonder: If we got really good seats (meaning the dots moving around on the field are not just blobs of color but are actually humans), would the food be a lot cheaper since we paid more for the tickets?
The game ended at 10 and my brother and I ended up getting home at 1:30 am. We got lost in the subway. Ang labo kasi nung nagbigay ng directions eh (ahem, Melizza). When I saw that we were on 21st, I thought lumagpas na kami. So we went to the MTA lady and asked how to get to 34th. The fucking bitch looked at me like I was an idiot and said, “Read the signs.”
She should be thankful that I was taught to respect elders so I bit my tongue and just walked away. But not without performing a voodoo ritual in my head to make her lose her ability to read. A curse on you and your family! Nyahaha!
No, I didn’t do that at all. I am a Catholic school girl after all and my mother has brought me up well.
*****
Melizza just came back from Amsterdam so she brought me pasalubong. Thank you, thank you!
Chocolates, Belgian waffles, a trinket and a keychain (not in picture). I know, bad lighting. I was in a hurry to eat the snacks to even bother about lighting. Buti nga nakuhanan ko pa eh.
Here’s what the chocolates look like:
Astig.
My brother said that’s how the blacks, Pinoys and whites do it. I was about to tell him that Pinoys can do all of them and are very creative (at least I know I am) when it comes to that but I didn’t. Baka mamaya subukan pa nya, nalintikan na.
If any of you are planning on going to Amsterdam, drop by Priscilla’s and bring me something back. Here’s the information again:
Ganda ng nails ko no?
# 32 ODDIBLES: SIGNS OF THE TIMES
A profound statement straight from the Cagayan De Oro Airport. I dunno who came up with this tagline since it deviated from the classic “Boys don’t cry. Men do.” schtick.
WTF.
#31 ORIGINALITY AND ITS VICTIMS
The previous post was heavy and that kind of feeling is still here. For now, I’ll be blogging about different things to keep my mind off that job crap. It just made me long for the good times when life was simple.
Life in DLSU: the best. Just read posts (not the latest though, since these people have more free time and a computer) of Les Sofia (hallo, Les!), Deybi’s (hey, who’s the guy in Bantayan? OOPS!), Papa JonZ’s(que ora es, maize?).
It made me think of those days when the TLS office was in the third floor and I’d be sitting on the halls studying for my next class and ogling at those SC people. Hay, things were beautiful back then which leads me to my next topic:
Your only problem is where you’d be taking your next meal.
I am an ardent follower of Col. Sanders and for that I dub myself LT COL Ahuhuhu. Anyhoo, KFC has been a staple food of TLS Editorial Board when PIMA (Putang Ina Mo Arvin) was our printer (Arvin- the jolly fat proprietor guy). As you all know, I am a breast man. Nothwithstanding my monicker Tito Thong-utts, chicken breast is the best. Col. Sanders, isa kang idol!
DA BEST KA PA RIN. Genetic man o hinde ang manok mo.
A few years later, I passed by the Buendia (that’s buen-jah) intersection and a new restaurant caught my trained eye.
WHAT THE F@CK? Is that you, lolo?
The Col. just migrated to my beloved Filipinas! A spark of hope. Finally, somebody had the guts to ignore our politicians and stupid masa. A foreigner would give us more jobs.
BUT it’s actually former Ambassador Roy Señeres. It was his daughter who have set up this coffee shop. It’s OFC (Our Father’s Coffee).
the similarity: red and white and a trademark mugshot of a colonel/ ambassador
the difference: coffee contra chicken.
Now, I don’t know if it was intentional or not for OFC to give a Filipino “twist” to KFC’s design. But this is too much. C’mon, if we’re going to execute an idea like that, let’s put in at least some semblance of style and originality. Apparently, this was not the case.
Ika nga sa Tagalog: pilit na, ampanget pa.
#30 REAL BEAUTY IS…
NGAAAAARSS, Akin kaaaah! Ellen da Bampira.
Scary woman.
Anyhoo, welcome back to my joint, my loyal customers. It has been a verrry long time since I posted something substantial in this spot. To start off, I’d like to say that it feels great to finally log my life updates on this online diary (blech.). So what’s been happening to me for the past three months? Let’s see,
- January. At the back of my head: For the past four years, I’ve been working a whole lot and haven’t earned mounds of cash BUT I’m still happy.
- February. At the back of my head: For the past four years, I’ve been working a whole lot and haven’t earned mounds of cash BUT I’m quite happy. I am happy because of the opportunities to learn more, the prestige of working in the number one car company in this country, and the chance to travel around the country. I was also happy to watch the whole series of…
SLAM DUNK! Mabuhay ka, Shohoku!
- March. I wake up and something shouts inside my head with ringing clarity: For the past four years, I’ve been working a whole lot and haven’t earned mounds of cash AND I’m no longer happy.
I am tired.
I am tired of complaining. I am tired of waiting for miracles and empty promises. I am tired of hearing grumblings from my workmates. I am tired of the bureaucracy and red tape. I am tired of hearing misguided views of fairness and loyalty. I am tired of wasting time making some Chinese guy rich. I am tired.
And most of all, I am angry.
I am angry at myself for letting these things to happen to me. I could have just left earlier and sought better opportunities. Don’t get me wrong. In every company, there would be different sets of problems. I am grateful for my current job but I know deep in my heart that I do not see myself doing this for the next five years.
I am tired and I need a new job.
Badly.
