Don’t Make Me Hungry. You wouldn’t like me when I’m hungry.

So, It’s been a while. Thanks to our broadband connection which for the last eight weeks was down for erm.. six WTF weeks. I’s like I’m living in a third world count – Ok. I won’t go there. I am not updated on the internets anymore. The Internet has moved on without me. Don’t get me wrong now, They have an awesome product. Faster downloads (*torrEHEMnts*), faster browsing (*poEHEMrn*) and the works. Problem? Their after sales customer service bull crap which sucks as much as me playing badminton. Also, I really have to have my cough checked.

Woot woot!

Serb and world No. 3 Novak Djokovic was likely to play against Swiss and world No. 1 Roger Federer in the semis, but Russian and world No. 75 Marat Safin defied expectations with a 4-6 6-7 2-6 surprise win.

I admit I only started watching tennis when Aussie Patrick Rafter broke into the scene. But I was hooked instantly.

In addition to Rafter, Safin (and, OK, Ivanisevic — I mean who could forget that Wimbledon finals with Rafter?) was the one I kept my eye on. But he has such a temper and when he lets his disposition take hold of his game, he just disintegrates.

I know his win has as much to do with Djokovic’s less than stellar game as his ability to stay mentally sane. But I hope he does good this time and give me reason to watch a Grand Slam finale once again. I do not want and am tired of seeing yet another Federer-Nadal finals.

Smelly cab

How do cab drivers keep themselves entertained and awake while trolling the streets for passengers or during a long trip with riders such as myself, who, unless absolutely necessary, will not make small talk?

I went grocery shopping yesterday after work and as I was in no mood to take the train home while lugging four heavy bags (OK one heavy bag and three OK ones), I took a cab. A really smelly cab. Think of someone who’s been under the sun for hours, sweated like hell and then got inside an air-conditioned place. That’s how the cab smelled like.

This morning on the way to work, the cab I got into reeked of smelly feet. What a way to start a day.

Those aren’t the first two cases of smelly cabs I’ve encountered, although they are the first two consecutive instances. And that really made me wonder — what do cabbies do when they’re alone in their cars? Do they even take the time out to air out their cabs and clean the upholstery?

I shudder at the possible answers those questions may bring.

Growing pains

In six days, we will have been living in our new place for four months. In the first few weeks, I thought time went by so fast. But now that we’ve settled into our routine, it doesn’t feel like everything’s going by in a blur. I actually am surprised that we haven’t even reached the half-year mark yet. To me, it feels as if we’ve been living here for quite some time now.

I do miss having 24/7 access to the Web, though. Right now, our utility budget does not have room for Internet subscription. My inordinate spending over the past few years means that we’d have to tighten our belts at least through the next year. IF I remain faithful to our expense plan, then maybe I’d finally get to purchase some of the things I’ve been holding off on buying for the longest time.

The high-ticket items include a spanking MacBook, a new phone to replace my 4-year-old unit, an LCD TV and a cooking range with hood. Among what I consider practical purchases are a longer futon, an ottoman and a streamlined armchair for our living room, curtains and bed sheets to alternate with the ones we already have, a bathroom organizer shelf (or whatever it’s called), and a decent dining set. The one we have right now is functional, yes, but not very durable.

It’s so hard to resist the temptation of splurging on clothes and shoes the way I used to, but I guess that’s the caveat that comes with irresponsible spending.

# 98 WRITING FOR BUSUANGA

Have you been to Palawan?

My answer would be a big yes and I would always flash a smile recounting the whole experience of flying there, enjoying the place, and getting back safe, tired but happy. It’s been more than three years.

So what’s with the question?

One of my best friends Pi (pronounced as “pie” like apple pie) sent me this link about Seair’s contest and it’s obvious that I’m writing because I want to win. I want to go back to Club Paradise with my wife. I want to go snorkeling and just relax on the sands of its lovely beach. I want to go back so we can have another honeymoon.

I want to go back so much that this contest just made me dig up on my past blog entries (see pictures below). I know that the prize of the contest isn’t the trip to Club Paradise.

But getting the tickets would get the job half done.

Three years ago, my then-girlfriend-now-the-wife was successful in convincing me that we go to Club Paradise. We’ve always dreamed of going to Palawan and though El Nido was the ultimate dream, we knew that our middle-class pockets wouldn’t be enough to cover the trip. Club Paradise lived up to its name and we’re more than convinced to return to this place.

The only way to reach Coron, Dimakya Island alias Club Paradise was to fly to Busuanga, Palawan and take a boat ride. There’s the usual gibe that flying with propeller jets are not safe and noisy. There may be some truth in it. But there a lot of things that could get you killed everyday. It’s all just a matter of time.

So let me share my views in riding a propeller jet. It’s like riding a tricycle. It’s noisy. You get to interact with the driver or in this case, you see the pilot out of the usual cockpit. You can just tap or tickle him. Or just do both. You see him avoid the harmful UV rays of the sun by placing a day-old tabloid on top of the windshield. There is no air conditioning and there are no flight attendants on board. You’re left in the company of your loved one and at least a dozen people with you.

In a twisted sense, at the corner of your head there is some small comfort that you’re with your loved one just in case something goes wrong with your flight.

Anyway, what made sense in my trip to Palawan was that the flight was worth it because Club Paradise was just perfect. My then-girlfriend and I had our first dinner by the beach. Lobster was served, there was champagne, the works.

It was our 46th month (that’s more than three years of being together). It was romantic and if I only had the money to buy a ring and propose that night, I would have. But the next best thing was realizing that I do want to end up getting married to her.

Now that we’re together, I want to take her back there and maybe bring two of my best friends along with us and hopefully a successful proposal might take place.

And tag along two other friends as comic relief if it doesn’t work out.

The day I’ve dreaded is here!!

It all started with a boil or in tagalog, Pigsa.

I was minding my own business, preparing for work, on a Tuesday morning when it appeared. A lump on my chest with a reddish area. The night before I was trying to prick this black head on my chest. It was quite stubborn. I wanted it to launch and stick on the mirror. It didn’t. It didn’t even bleed. The morning after it has turned into a volcano of sorts. Hence my THIRD NIPPLE IS BORN!!! Dun dunn DUNN!!!