my mom can attest to this: i am a christmas addict. notwithstanding the fact that i was totally dependent on my allowance, my christmas list was long and lengthy, including even the security guard at the dormitory where i stayed. i'd begin shopping around october, my personal christmas tree would be with me when i checked in the dorm by second semester, and by december, the only thing that i was doing was actually waiting for christmas to finally arrive.

fast forward to 2005 where the ratio of gifts given and gifts received has turned the other way and i am a virtual humbag. i attempted, and almost succeeded, doing my entire christmas shopping list in one day, and that included having all the presents wrapped using at the store where i bought them (unlike before where each present would be lovingly wrapped with special treats, bows, and little knick-knacks to make it a very very special present). i'd attack each store with an excel prepared list, which included columns for gift recipient, budget, and gift idea and blank columns for where i'd put the gift actually bough and money spent on the gift. special, personalized gifts became a thing of the past, especially as i came out of body shop with the exact same gift for three persons on my list.

as my christmas bonus began transforming itself into gaily wrapped packages, none of which, i may add, would be opened by me, i felt more and more despondent. with the sole exception of a friend who dragged me over to the charles and keith sale and bought me the pair of shoes i've been salivating over as a christmas gift, i wasn't expecting any packages to come my way. being the i'd-rather-read-a-book-than-giggle-with-a-handful-of-girls person that i was, i can count with the fingers of one hand who i consider to be my really good friends, and these really good friend were more like me in the sense that our world would not stop if we didn't text/call/see each other in months, even years. more than half of my immediate and extended family is abroad (and none of them seem to be familiar with the concept of sending over-burdened balikbayan boxes filled with a whole lot of nonsense presents, which, for the record, i love), and those that are here aren't the gift-giving kind.

and it was then that it happened. i knew that no matter how many times the priest sermoned over the last couple of weeks that christmas really meant the birth of christ and the miracle of our salvation, receiving no presents at all would totally destroy christmas, even for a grown woman of 28. and with a christmas day spent driving from region four, through NCR, all the way to the heart of region three just to ferry home an irate grandmother, i realized why my parents, aunts, and uncles used to dread the arrival of december 25.

but then i somehow found myself having lunch at the mall and there i was faced with store windows proudly announcing that they have slashed their prices, in effect telling me that, okay, now you can buy what you wanted but never could get yourself to buy because of the hefty price tag.

i'm now eyeing this shoe cabinet at 5% off from blims. there's also this folding table that would be so good for BEN who now happens to be plunked over a monoblock chair for lack of an empty surface in my room. that's 5% off too. mango has a sale and so does every frigging little store at the mall.

i am excited. i am in heaven.

and, i realized as i planned my "mall course of action" when i woke up this morning, christmas, for me, has finally arrived.

i just realized how much of a sale addict i am when, while shopping for a universal adaptor, i was able to get one that was selling at 50% off the original price.

life post revelry...

...means being very hung over, notwithstanding the fact that the only drinking you got to do was two (or was it more?) glasses of vodka with more than a splash of sprite light with your aunt.

...means having that resolve the enroll in a gym especially when your middle begins to resemble santa claus. (and this is before you've gotten halfway through the fruitcake stash in your refrigerator)

...is creating occassions so you can use the new bag/shoes/top/jeans that found their way to your closet.

...having that feeling of extreme poverty, especially after the stores magically slashed their prices the day after christmas. i KNOW i don't need those two pairs of shoes at charles and keith and i KNOW i don't need that lovely cream bag at alfa but i WANT them. damn that 25,000km check-up. were it not for that, i would be the proud new owner of 2 lovely mules and a boxy bag THIS VERY MINUTE.

...means wanting to stay at home and sink into bed with your lovely copy of memoirs of a geisha (so not the kind being sold over at national bookstore) and lindt mints with dark chocolate and forget that you actually have to work for a living...

... which reminds me that it is SO not christmas anymore and i am SO not on a leave, there being no leaves to avail of yet, which makes me ask the question,

WHAT AM I DOING IN MY PAJAMAS AT 8 IN THE MORNING AND NOWHERE NEAR THE COURT OF APPEALS?

i gotta go.

and pretend to work.

or probably really work, there being this lovely machine aka as my new laptop...

...which still happens to be nameless...

...which needs a name that will match spike the car and buffy the ipod mini...

...and it's so not going to be angel.

uhm, calling on keith. i am so not a buffy fan, and i only watch it cause of my intense love for spike, but i need a new name. thanks....whose name happens to be BEN.

PS. shout out to rey who hasn't made a squeak in months, especially when it cames to invites for some revelry with me and vanessa. are you still around?? we need you. please show urself.

while folklore tells us that santa lives over in the northpole, my santas happen to live elsewhere... in north america to be exact.

santa #1 is my dear sweet dad who found a way to get my laptop to me just a mere two days after christmas. it's lovely, lovely, lovely, with the wide screen and the dvd player and the dvd-writer. i will have to get used to life without floppy disks, but by golly, with an amazing laptop such as this, who needs floppies? (although papa it keeps making this "fairy" sound - you know, the sound faries make when they appear - and i don't know where it's coming from!!!! or how to turn it off even).

santa #2 is sweet keith who, contrary to numerous reminders to save instead of buying presents, sent over two things that make me sigh in this world: a book i've been wanting to read and mint chocolate. as if those weren't enough, she placed them in a lovely powder blue shoe bag. girl, i don't know how you do it but you ALWAYS manage to make me fall in love with your cards and presents.

the season won't be over until santa #3 comes along, this time, in the form of my aunt who will be having her grand christmas blow-out on january 5. i am hoping that the budget is similar to last year's (which means i MAY still be able to buy yet another fino bag) and i hope that they stock up on good stuff over at gateway (this year's venue)so that i'll be coming home with something lovely, something pretty, and something that i will really, really love.

28, and oh so materialistic.

it's christmas. who cares?

something about the holidays brings out the road rage devil in me that not even my favorite christmas cd can appease. since i have a tendency to depress the horn without letting go until the object of my anger has ceased doing the intolerable, i bring you:

ROSA'S ROAD RULES RESULTING from her ROAD RAGE

1. if you just learned to drive yesterday, the holidays isn't the best time to master your skills driving stick.

2. if you're number one and you just have to drive that car cause your gf refuses to ride a jeepney, don't drive along main roads. you're one of the many reasons why there is traffic.

3. if you've finally gotten that girl to allow you to take her home and you are making the most of a ten kilometer drive, take the side roads. avoid driving along main thoroughfare. you're not only bothering the other motorists, you are likewise making the million and one people who are loveless this christmas even more pissed.

4. if you do not know where you're going, don't go there. people who stop at every damn corner checking if it's kampupot st. already is also quite irritating. (corollarily, if you're the person they're visiting, please give better directions.)

5. 30 kph isn't the speed of a car. it's the speed of a tricycle. if you're going to drive at 30, drive a trike. or don't drive at all. do you know how much gasoline you're wasting simply because you're staying at third gear????

i know there's more. however, i have sufficiently calmed down.

feel free to add your own if you've developed any over the holidays.

-oOo-
in other news, my right bicep is as painful as hell. seeing as i do no exercise, not even a pitiful attempt to pop in the vcr my trusty tae-bo exercise video, i came to the only conclusion a logical person would arrive at:

i have been shopping way too much lugging my semi-ginormous bag in one arm.

dear rox,

shoes-es for 365 days on your desk. check.

music for your iPod. (click and download) check.

me coming home. check.

so where is this ms CA going to take you? isn't there some kind of age restriction? and what are you going to perform in the talent portion? if the contest is based on beauty and brains, you're overqualified. but only if to ensure that your name is on that magic roll, then by all means, walk the ramp. this means new wardrobe and accessories, doesn't it? frankly, mothership should sponsor you.

seriously, go have a good time and may the shoe whore get the bragging rights.

i am relieved and glad to know that you'll be with family come christmas eve. so will i, although driving to chicago for 2-1/2 hours isn't the same as driving to sta. rosa, is it?

i'm actually looking forward to my homecoming. well, i have to take advantage of it. film school would keep me too busy to fly home for the next coming years.

anyway, happy christmas to you and to your readers.

heart,
gw

i love my job, no doubt about it. i love the non-crazy hours, the decent pay, the cool boss, the funky officemates, and most especially what i actually do to get paid. my job description's filled with easy things to do, and even if i end up doing the same tasks as a full-fledged lawyer, i've no qualms. i found my dream job and i plan to stay for as long as i can.

until my boss exercised that part of my contract which says, "and those other things which may be assigned by your direct superior from time to time." because sometime between after she sttended a meeting for the 70th anniversary of the court of appeals and when she sat down beside me during the christmas lunch which she sponsored for her staff, she got the idea of choosing me, yes me, to be our office's representative for ms. court of appeals.

now, anyone who has seen me in real life would probably say, no effing way, especially after i gained all that weight and after my skin started breaking out, and after i started depending on regular trips to the parlor for hair color due to my prematurely graying hair and after, well, after they recall that i am just 5'2 1/2" tall. but when my boss gets an idea into her head, it's there, and being barely two months into my job, i am not about to defy office orders, am i.

so i am going to have to enroll in a gym to lose about 30 pounds. and i am going to have to make a date with gilbert the stylist for some hair treatments. the body scrub and massage i have been putting off must be scheduled immediately. and those lovely brownies sold by this lovely gay man at work? well, they must be ignored.

goodbye rice.
goodbye bacon.
goodbye lovely buffet breakfast meals at hacienda.

i'm a woman with a mission. and if winning this damn beauty contest will mean currying favor with my boss who has what it takes to make it all the way to the supreme court, then by golly, this will take every single bit of energy i've got.

-oO0-

at least i already got my starbucks planner.

yup, the girl who has never finished a starbucks promo in her entire life and who was always just simply roped into helping others complete their promo cards finally completed an entire card... with a month more to go.

it took a while and there were instances when i was ready to throw in the towel. but apparently, all it takes is one trip to starbucks with your grandmother, uncle, aunt, good friend and driver in tow to finally complete a damn promo card.

-oOo-

oh, btw, calling on vanessa.

i am not an orphan this coming christmas. i have been adopted :)

there's nothing funnier in the world than watching the pinoy big brother "the big night" and realizing that an ex you pined after and the one you loved like crazy actually looks a bit like lito camo.

ok, i'm being kind. a LOT like lito camo.

(in fairness, he was a brilliant person and we had wonderful conversations with each other, but come on, he DOES look a lot like th composer.)

henry sy and therapy

partly due to my laziness and to the red tape that's so prevalent in government offices, i have yet to receive my initial salary from the court of appeals. now, on any given day, this will be so much of a bummer already. but the thing is, it's christmas season and not having money in your wallet just about kills me a little bit each day. add to that the fact that there's a bonus or special allowance almost every other week is just about the worst thing in the universe.

today was our office christmas party. everyone went home with a P4,000 christmas allowance ... except me. THAT would just be the perfect damper to what could've been a really chirpy afternoon.

i am broke, bonus-less, and so in the mood to just sulk, sulk, and sulk some more.

i could've gone home and done just that, and i was tempted to do so. but then i knew that there was something i can do that would make me feel way so much better than hiding under the covers: shop.

i offered my shopping services to an officemate who wanted nothing more than to avoid the malls. so, armed with a christmas list and money to spend that wasn't mine, i attacked SM with a vengeance. i bought clothes, toys, baby stuff, and a bike even, had them wrapped (yes, i was able to get the bike wrapped!), and spend way below the budget that was allotted for the gifts.

by 9:30 (thank god for SMs that close at ten!), i was done.

not only that, i was better.

so thank you, henry sy! your groceries may be overpriced, but your department store just gave me the best four hours of my life.

i'm beginning to think i am relationship retarded.

i'm 28, and single.

when i was in college, naive, and in a loving relationship, i thought i'd get married by 25 and have kids by 28. i thought 30 was so old, and i though that i'd have the world at my feet by 40. 50 seemed so old, and a six-year age gap was something i knew would make my friends' eyebrows rise.

goodness. if i can talk to my 21 year old self, i'd probably whack her in the head for not knowing anything worth knowing.

28, and i don't think i can give up my crazy lifestyle which involves eating take out most of the time.

28, and still living in my parents' house and heavily in debt because of my almost three-year-old car.

28, and unable to commit to a relationship long enough to see it through the good times and the bad.

28, and unable to imaging myself having kids and sending them to school, and staying up all night to feed them.

see. there is a reason why i am single.

and now i know.

Ghostwriter, bobbing
I told her that I plan to sue Henry Sy and his minions for making a shopaholic out of her.

She, the would-be plaintiff, and probably a hostile one (there's no such hostile plaintiff, is there?), laughed at the idea.

If there were landmark cases of people suing monolith tobacco companies for causing the death of lung cancer-stricken loved ones, why not one for making her close to penniless most of the time?

And if we win the civil case, I would donate half the proceeds to Tahanang Walang Hagdan just to piss her off. Go figure.

Blame it on the strategically planned mallwide sales in SM that paralyze not only traffic in EDSA, but also her aged sense of reason. SM's events bastardize her concept of moderation and push her to think that she needs more shoes, bags and days to worry because she's broke again.

For a while I was happy being educated that a flat isn't only a place of residence, that pumps are not only associated with mechanical things, and that camel isn't only an animal that spits. But when even casual story-telling was often interrupted by name-dropping Blahnik and Choos, I knew it was getting out of hand.

To tell her that shoe collection is neither a contest nor a career requires the rolling up of my sleeves. She will argue, like she has been cockily trained to do in Malcolm. She will only allow me to block her defense thrice. After that, she will let out a curt, "I hate you."

But let this be a light bulb in our friendship that has contended with time difference.

Today, I braved the snow fall and drew your name on the ground. Just when you think your other friends and exes have done it all to surprise you, give me a lil credit for this single act of childishness.



I bet no one has ever done that... yet.

* * *
ROX: What are you doing online? Shouldn't you be in the gym?
ME: Am watching free toons. =)
ROX: Ahahaha. You're cute. Do you want to chat?
ME: Ahm. Hmm... sleep na.
ROX: Are you sure? Funny I can't open both eyes at the same time. Masyadong maliwanag.
ME: Ahm. I'm reconsidering the trip to the gym because the flurries are here.
ROX: Stay at home.
ME: I love flurries. I open my mouth and they just fall right in.
ROX: Ahahaha. That's cute. Very cute.

Yesterday I told her that I plan to subscribe to Giant Magazine. I picked up its November issue while I was at the Saturn dealer, where my car had a scheduled change oil. And I fell in love with its wit and humor. Giant also has tame FHM-material pics, so I can just leave it anywhere when my parents come over to visit.

Just when I thought she would approve of it, she uttered something totally unexpected. I wasn't even able to dodge.

"Wala ka nang balak umuwi, 'no?" she asked. Sadly.

I was speechless so I made a director's exit. (READ: When a crucial ad lib can't be found, cue in a commercial.)

i am slowly morphing into your typical government employee.

i still wake up every day at 6 am but i hardly get out of bed until a little after 7. and when i finally make it out of bed, shower, dress up, and put my face on (see, UH! it's now part of the routine!!), it's almost 8. and given that the waiting time for an fx is horrendous, and that on wednesdays the traffic is just so goddarn awful, i barely have ten minutes to settle down before my boss arrives and assess who's there and who's not.

sometimes, i'm one of those who's not yet there. tragic, i know.

when i get there, having expended all my energy flagging down fx after fx and walking in heels from the corner of kalaw to my third floor office, i am often hungry, a bit tired, and would want nothing more than to scarf down bag after tiny bag of my happy barbecue peanuts and a cold can of diet sarsi.

which, more often than not, i do.

all too soon it's lunch time, then before we know it it's time to go home, and the office is silent, and i am left with the option of locking up and going home or staying and finally morph back into the same workaholic girl i was when i first came in.

and when i do, i give myself a tiny pat on the back, and thank that somehow, there's still a big part of me that tells me there's hope yet.

because who knows? when i finally turn into a full-fledged government employee, i'd be one of those people who commute in their good shoes while wearing scruffy slippers the entire day.

... with rollers in their hair.

"Ever The Same"

We were drawn from the weeds
We were brave like soldiers
Falling down under the pale moonlight
You were holding to me
Like a someone broken
And I couldn't tell you but I'm telling you now

Just let me hold you while you're falling apart
Just let me hold you and we both fall down

Fall on me
Tell me everything you want me to be
Forever with you forever in me
Ever the same

We would stand in the wind
We were free like water
Flowing down
Under the warmth of the sun
Now it's cold and we're scared
And we've both been shaken
Look at us
Man, this doesn't need to be the end

Just let me hold you while you're falling apart
Just let me hold you and we both fall down

Fall on me tell me everything you want me to be
Forever with you
Forever in me
Ever the same
Call on me
I'll be there for you and you'll be there for me
Forever it's you
Forever in me
Ever the same

You may need me there
To carry all your weight
But you're no burden I assure
You tide me over
With a warmth I'll not forget
But I can only give you love

when friendships get tiring

i know how it's like. i know how it's like to just want to be whiny and pathetic and crying all the time. i know how it's like to need ten thousand shoulders to cry on. i know how it's like for every single fibre of your being to just want to get back together with the guy because you just effing love him.

but come on.

even if you are the sweetest, most amazing, and greatest friend i've had in years, even if hanging out with you is almost always a lovely experience, even if you are best friend material, i - mega-watt, super unused to female friends, and totally type-a me - can only take so much.

and so, thank goodness for text messages you can ignore, phone calls you can drop, and sleep you can feign. if i have to again listen as to how you're giving him the ten millionth chance in the universe because, as you so claim, you love him, i may just end up hitting you on the head with my bag.

so today, i hope you understand that i'm being a bad friend by ignoring you. i am human. i can only take so much.

p.s. when friendships work, it begins with a single desperate phone call which escalates to the kind of friendship where you both learn to lean on each other from the smallest things to the biggest, and the kind where no matter how pissed you are, you know that a bag hitting incident will never happen.

at least not anytime soon.

how to distinguish between a normal person and a shopaholic

normal person: feels the need to pee, sees a gasoline station, parks in gasoline station, pees. problem averted.

shopaholic: feels the need to pee, sees a gasoline station, IGNORES gasoline staion, drives like a madwoman until she reaches the mall, makes a beeline for the bathroom, curses everyone in line for being too damn slow while peeing, finally pees...

... and then she realizes she's never been to the annex of this mall before, go visits the annex, buys:
1. contact lenses and solution
2. new shirt and jacket
3. kikay stuff
4. yet another shirt
5. christmas decorations simply because they were on sale

there was also this half hour spent on looking at shoes, contemplating whether she should buy the gold shoes for her cousin's wedding SOMETIME IN JULY... of next year.

and there was this half hour spent looking at glasses thinking if she should get a new one too.

and there's also this sidetrip to the grocery to check out what they had there on sale.

clearly, for the shopaholic, what would have taken five minutes tops in a gasoline station isn't an option. screw her kidneys and bladder problems.

three kilometers and the need to pee -- which takes forever in saturday afternoon traffic -- is just a small sacrifice in exchange for the shiny shopping bags that she'll be going home with.

today's a really good day to die

remember the line? four medical students who perform an experiment to figure out what happens when you die. right before one of the characters subjected himself to the experiment, he takes a glance around the room and says it, as if confirming that should he die that day, he'd be ok.

today, i had one of those days:

good morning chat with nothing but happy thoughts ... fun and almost traffic-free drive to work ... breakfast buffet with my wednesday buddy at hacienda ... decorating our office with an 8-ft tree and lovely trimmings ... bonding with my boss over oatmeal cookies ... lovely lunch where we stuffed outselves silly with food from dencio's ... impromptu shopping trip where i was able to convince my otherwise non-kikay officemate to buy not one, not two, but three new pairs of shoes (all she had planned on buying was a new pair of shoes for a wedding) ... buying my nth pair of white ballet flats (you can never have too many shoes!) ... almost finishing drafting my decision, and not caring that i actually wasn't able to finish it ... finally opening a passbook savings account (YAY! i'm beginning to save money again!) ... peppermint mocha frappuccino ... supreme boy vs. star boy ... lovely car trip with officemates on our way to my boss' house ... dinner party for mayor: sugpo, lasagna, lechon, lechon baka, lengua, blue marlin, lumpia, california maki (i ate as much as my pants would allow me!) ... chatting with one of my favorite ex-students (who happens to be the daughter of my boss) ... having quality out-of-the-office time with my officemates (and loving it!) ... easy drive back to my aunt's house ... free dsl internet access at aunt's house.

don't you agree? today's a good day to die.

btw: it's my best friend's birthday today!

and would you like to get my number too?

i really should learn how to flirt.

for the first time in my life, i spotted a really cute, really charming, and really amazing barrista. and for the first time in my life too, it seemed that amazing barrista thought i was really cute, really charming, and really amazing too.

unfortunately though, our conversation was limited to the usual conversation that one has with her barrista:

ME: peppermint hot chocolate please.
HIM: would you like that in grande?
ME: no.
HIM: venti?
ME: (squints nose) you must be kidding. just tall.
HIM: can i get your name please?
ME: rosa
HIM: would you like something to eat rosa?
ME: no thanks.
HIM: that'll be a hundred bucks.
ME: ok. wait, i have a card.

now this is where we get a bit chatty and he flashes me a gorgeous smile and i flash what i believe to be a gorgeous smile back and we both smile goofily and i wait for my hot chocolate and he asks for my receipt so he can punch it and we smile goofily again. all too soon, i gotta go take a seat (as i can obviously not stand in front of the counter the entire evening) and i was reduced to stealing glances over to where he was. i wasn't alone though as he grabbed a rag and cleaned our table (which wasn't dirty, and something that my friend and i thought was cute cause, well, barrista's almost always never clean tables, and they never clean tables at all especially when there are ten million other free tables around) and we all smiled at each other goofily again.

did i like him? well i found him cute beyond words. did he like me? i'll never know. but, who knows? i still have to get 19 more stickers on my card before i get the starbucks planner. maybe, just maybe, next time he asks for my name, i'll have the panache to say, "rosa, and would you like to get my number too?"

there are things that are just too damn crazy to ignore, and that includes finding yourself outside a carinderia at 9 in the morning listening to someone singing - at the top of his (or her? i wasn't sure if the person was a real boy or someone who just looked like a boy) voice - dancing queen by abba.

thank goodness though for random funny incidents such as that. otherwise a day punctuated by a routine battery change resulting in the watch person destroying the color change feature of your watch or a 25 minute wait in line at mcdonald's would be a day when you'd want to just erase yourself from the normal world and live under a rock instead.

incidentally, and on a totally unrelated note, the red cups are back at starbucks and that means that peppermint mocha is back!!!! oh, nikki! calling on nikki who i remember hates peppermint mocha and was looking for someone who would consume peppermint mocha for her. well girl, i am here :)

on a second totally unrelated note, watched the exorcism of emily rose last night with my cousins and my brother. anna and brian were clutching each other for dear life, and while my brother and i haven't been the sweetest of siblings, you would've laughed at the two of us last night. i watched all the scary parts of the movie between webbed fingers, often asking my brother to tell me what was being shown. my feet were propped on his knees, lest some of the demons were to pass through the screen and grab a hold of my leg. he, on the other hand, was clutching my arm while making me promise that we'd sleep in the same room so as to ward off the scaries. it was a so-so movie (for me) and a perfect waste of 120 pesos, IMHO, but as with the casino gimmick, the fun we had teasing each other at the end of the movie? priceless.

when the whole world screws you over, you go back to your real friends, friends you can see, hear, feel, and smell, and spend time with. and so, while i've been holed up since i stopped working for the school and while i've been staying at home (since i don't really want to see people who, as i said earlier, would simply ask me the question that i am so sick of hearing already, "how was the bar?"), yesterday and today i ventured out into the world where there's sun and you're both in the same time zone.

finally, i remembered how it felt like to actually buss someone on the cheek by way of hello instead of using the YM buzz button.

so yesterday i had lunch with my best friend and we chatted at fridays and we went gift shopping and kikay shopping and grocery shopping and reminisced about the time when we both couldn't drive shit and now we both drive our own cars. and today i raided a bazaar with my aunt and chatted over a lovely lunch and we met up with my cousins afterwards and we chatted a bit more before i called it a day.

fun. fun. fun. while technology's so fun and good in bringing friends and family who are a million miles away, there are days when you want more contact than YM can give you. and on those days, you dress up, take your car out, and spend time with real people.

p.s. but papa, i do LOVE YM and i do LOVE my posting on my online journal and people like you and keith are an ocean away so while i may bitch about being online i would love nothing more than that pc you're shopping for :) ... mwah!

i don't know what to do when people tell me they're so sure i'm going to pass the bar.

sometimes i want to tell them, "you really think so? cause i'm so nervous i won't and i wouldn't know what to do if i DO fail"

and there are days, those really bad days, when i want to shove their smiles up their asses and tell them, "well, YOU weren't there. were you there when i was inventing crimes? were you there when i couldn't remember ANYTHING about warehouse receipts? were you there when the only thing that was keeping me from weeping was the sight of my seatmate's fUGLY,dirty feet which he keeps taking out of his shoes for some perverse reason? were you there when i all wanted to do was sleep but i had ten million numbers to answer still (well, it more like thirty, but god, GOD, what examiner in his right mind would ask FIFTY questions in the bar? well, this year, all 8 of them did)?

clearly, there are days when i lose it. hopefully, it doesn't happen when you're around.

in the end, i usally just end up saying "thank you" because while you want to say, well all of the things i had just said, saying "thank you" is the polite thing to do.

and, well, the shortest.

p.s. HAPPY BIRTHDAY! gary.

in this day and age, five hundred bucks won't get four people very far.

you can probably each get a frapuccino from starbucks, or decent meal from mcdo. you can share a pizza from yellow cab, but the money wouldn't be enough to cover everyone's drinks.

five hundred, by today's standards, is admittedly just not enough to make a group of four happy.

however, being the fun kids that me, my brother, my favorite cousin, and his wife are, well, we had the funnest time with our five hundred bucks playing the 50 cent slot machines over at the westin casino.

at first we thought we could have the five hundred bucks changed into tokens and we could split it four way. however, it turned out that we had to put the entire bill in the machine and the machine would automatically deduct it for us. and since we only had five hundred bucks between us four, we slipped it right in and, well, we played a single machine. we'd alternately hit the button, betting differently each time. when we'd win, we'd all let out a little hoot, and when we'd win big, we'd clap and cheer and what not.

the people were looking at us funny, and it was all too soon before we ran out of money, but while the big rollers won thousands of pesos, us four had the biggest smiles on our faces when we stepped out of the casino.

and you know what? the fun we had ...that's something not even the jackpot can match.

(well, maybe. but since we lost, we wouldn't really know now, right?)

today i woke up at 8 and that meant i would be more than late for the office. but, i figured i was late anyway, so i took my sweet time fixing my stuff, taking a bath, and most importantly, doing my make-up.

i swear, i would've done UH proud.

i cleaned my eyebrows, applied moisturizer (still no tinted moisturizer *sigh*), curled my lashes, used eyeliner which i carefully smudged with my pinky, did the layering thing using liquid blush and powder blush (while trying not to look like a clown in the process), and used a bright lip gloss which left my lips pucker-worthy until i ate lunch where i ended up wiping it all off.

i felt pretty, and i think i looked pretty, so much so that the justice said, "wow, you're actually wearing make-up today." (i wanted to say, uhm, i do wear a little of it everyday. apparently, my everyday "no make-up" look actually makes me look like i'm not wearing make-up at all... either that or walang effect at all yung five-minute make-up routine ko.)

as the only male lawyer in the staff said, "wow rosa, full-battle gear ha."

ok. wait, uhm, i don't know what full battle gear means exactly. is that a good thing? or does that mean i look like someone from the cast of, say, encantadia?

i hope he meant that latter. otherwise today's attempt would mean the last of my adventures with make-up.

a friend told me that i gotta go make a christmas list and, being the materialistic person that i am, it didn't seem like a bad idea. i know i want tinted moisturizer, a nice toner, jimmy choo shoes, a pink-and-cream fino planner, and, well, more money in the bank. but then i realized the things i REALLY really want, no one can give me except me (or god via miracles).

i want to lose weight. i want straight hair. i want all my white hairs to fall off and be replaced with gorgeous hair in my natural color. i want the ability to wake up early without an alarm clock. i want hairless legs so i don't need laser treatments. i want whiter armpits. i want my pores to shrink. i want the ability to say "i don't need that" when am in the mall and i'm faced with a shoe on sale. i want eyebrows that have a natural arc. i want my eyes to be 20/20. i want my room to miraculously fix itself and stay fixed.

but am willing to live with fat, frizzy graying hair, alarm clocks, shaving/depilatories/more laser treatments, dark armpits, pores i have to hide, abject poverty, threading, contacts and eyeglasses, and a messy room if it means me passing the bar.

sige na, aaminin ko na.

i watch pinoy big brother.

ok there was a time when i dissed it. when it was all about bikinis and them talking about sex. but then i figured they got tired of it and it began to get interesting especially when say got together with jb, and when they started dissing cass behind her back. i'd watch when there was nothing else to watch.

and then sam came.

and then i got hooked.

he was hot. he had class. and he was the only person who wasn't pretending at all.

and so i'd make sure i'll be home by 1030. and i'd watch it with my cousin. and we'd compare notes. and i was tempted to text to save him, but they saved him the last time so i was confident they'd save him again.

but then they didn't. and he got evicted.

and so i made a vow.

no more pbb for me.

especially if a person like say would make such a huge deal about three inches being cut off her hair and say something stupid like "but this is permanent!" (duh)

i want to grow up... shopping wise that is.

i want to beyond buying nothing but shoes and bags, from buying cute nightclothes, and from merely scrounging around or waiting for presents to plump up my kikay kit.

and so yesterday, while my want list included "tinted moisturizer and what nots from pcx", "pink and brown mules from charles and keith", and "yellow pointy flats from celine", i came home with a bag of clothes, including this nice brown shirt which i can actually wear to work, nice black bermuda shorts that i can either wear with havaianas or heels, and pinstripe bermuda shorts that will definitely make me look fashionable at work.

i am excited for it to be monday. but for the meantime, i'm going to spend this long weekend with my "pretend grown up" self and go to the mall to contemplate once more if i should buy that tinted moisturizer or not, probably get a massage and a facial, and watch a movie. i'll jumpstart my healthy lifestyle too by going to the grocery and ignoring those lovely cans of diet sarsi (which i love) and buying things i should actually be stuffing my ref with.

who knows? hopefully my pretend grown up self will tell me it's ok to buy that lovely pair of charles and keith mules :)

p.s. UH! i want to apply as your PA!!!! hmmm.... pero you can have me after 430 lang. (uhm, ambisyon ko kasi maging PA ng someone!) i will work for make-up, salon treatments, and massages (para hindi taxable!).

p.p.s. seryoso ako. can i send you my resume?

p.p.p.s. talaga seryoso ako. don't laugh ha!

i can't believe he did that.

and so, while i love my aunt beyond words, and while i've tried desperately to understand why she loves him in spite of how "nothing" he is, what he did yesterday, once my aunt's back was turned, is nothing short of unforgivable.

"you're being vindictive," a friend told me when i told him i had planned on telling my dad, my uncles and aunts, and my grandmother about what he's done. see, when he did it, i, probably the only supporter (and half-heartedly at that) he had in the family, finally threw in the towel and gave up on him.

pat, the ex, was the first to say it. "he's different when your aunt's not around," he said after he was left to chat with him once. my brother soon followed, "how can you trust someone who makes deals with the government?" soon, my grandmother began saying her piece, even going as far as telling me, "how can you tolerate that man being your aunt?"

but when you hear your aunt tell you that she's truly happy and that he truly loves her, what's a girl to do?

i tried, believe me. i met up with him for lunch to figure out what his intentions were. i rode home to cabanatuan with him to see how he is on the road, and to talk to him some more. i even give them alone time. anything, and everything, to understand what the fascination my aunt held for this man.

but, with the sole exception of him being the handyman at home - changing the batteries, bulbs, and being my aunt's replacement driver on weekends - i do not get the fascination. not at all.

goodness, he's not even attractive.

and when he showed his true colors yesterday, when he, instead of convoying me all the way back to manila as my aunt thought he'd do, zoomed away one corner away from my aunt's home, and then had the gall to text me three hours later "i'm sorry i lost you on the drive back", well, when he did all that, he lost the only reluctant person he had in his corner.

there was a time, not so long ago, where i, fascinated by the lack of traffic, the easy laid back life, and the general cheapness of everything, contemplated on moving my entire life to cabanatuan city. i'd take over one of my aunt's guest rooms, park spike in the garage, and set up practice in the city or somewhere, or probably work for the local government, or whatever. cabanatuan city, then, seemed like a perfect mix of semi-urban life (with the mall now boasting of a body shop) and rural living (egg caldo and halo-halo at the corner of my lola's street).

but then, i got into this crazy habit of going home every two weeks. this first weekend, immediately after the bar, was lovely. i hung out online, drove my aunt around, and visited this nice derma who got rid of the little warts i got on my cheeks.

the second trip home was equally lovely. my cousin and her kids were also on vacation, and i got to bond big time with my only female cousin. we had hot oil done, and a back massage. we drove around, had coffee and cake, and watched bad television such as pinoy big brother.

the third trip - this trip - made the entire "home in the province" dream lose its novelty. by this time, my cousin's other kid was also here and she had just given birth to a baby so i had to deal with one one-year old girl and two boys who kept follwing me around the house. when they left, relieved as i was, i had to deal with being polite to my aunt's boyfriend, who's nice to me all the time, but still isn't family. i camped out in the other bedroom and had to deal with imagined surot preventing me from sleeping soundly. i also had to deal with a parlor that was closed (i had been oh so looking forward to getting a body scrub) and an internet cafe that feels weird (dark curtains and moaning ghost sounds cause it's halloween).

so there. the tiangge here may be updated enough to have a faux louis vuitton happy cherries wallet and there may be a cafe with a pretty decent tiramisu. my aunt's house may be a shelter that i wouldn't mind living in. but as long as the internet cafe has flying surot, i think i'm going to stay a manila girl for some time more.

here i was thinking that i was oh-so-ready for the husband and kids kind of life, until i spent two weekends with my niece and nephews and by the second weekend, i was ready to lock myself in my aunt's room and not come out until twelve hours later.

wait, that was exactly what i did.

four chattering kids, two of which follow me like i'm the pied piper or something. yesterday, they wanted to go online when i was online, sing videoke when i was singing, and well, eat whatever it was that i was eating.

was i tempted to take in sleeping pills to make them sleep? hell yes. i'm an evil aunt i know.

anyway, the house is quiet once more. my only girl cousin (the mom of the four kids) was picked up by my uncle and aunt and other cousin. they're on their way back to laguna. the maids are busy cleaning up the house, throwing all the sheets and what not in the wash, and making sure that everything's back in order. once more, i'm the only guest (oh wait, my aunt's boyfriend is here too) here. i've one of the guest rooms all to myself, the pc and internet all to myself, and the food, yes the food all to myself.

including a galon of cheese and cashew ice cream.

apparently, i don't need a self-help book to help me get over my single status. nor do i need a posse of giggling girlfriends helping me look for the next good catch. i don't need retail therapy or a day at the spa or anything. all i need is two weekends with chattering, noisy, drooling, pooping, shouting, and crazy kids and i am so ready to face another year of being single.

give me another year to enjoy my shoes and bags, single life and dating, watching tv in peace and quiet. maybe when i hit 29, i can think about it again.

but for now, i can do away with the smelly pampers, thank you very much.

(although i do love my inaanak, iya, so much. thank goodnes she's beginning to bloom into this pretty, self-sufficient, and i-won't-take-shit-from-anyone kind of girl. exactly like her ninang.)

while there's a huge part of me that wants to ask satan to reserve a special place in hell for all my ex-boyfriends, there are times when you realize that not all ex-boyfriends are evil enough to deserve such fate.

some even deserve that special little corner in heaven for simply being your constant guardian angel, notwithstanding the fact that you broke their heart and was the bitch from hell the entire time you were together.

so, even if i know that the martian will never ever read this blog, a big shout out to him, and a big thank you with hugs and kisses, for sending that lovely SMS yesterday offering me an unlimited LRT pass when he found out that i've begun commuting to work. he may be married, and he may have a kid now, but i know deep in my heart that if i were to find myself in the driving rain with a smashed radiator, angry men in a pick-up, and quivering from a major car accident (like i did two and a half years ago), he'll still be the first person i'll call up because he's the most dependable person i know.

i know i never said it enough while we were together, and i know i didn't even do enough to make you feel it, you are the best. and thank you for continuing to be my guardian angel up to this day.

-oOo-

incidentally, one day my dad asked how i was and too lazy to type out the story of my life on ym, i gave him the link to my blog.

ok. so i may be one of the few people in the world who actually told her dad about her blog. i thought he'd read one entry, or two, or three at the most, but before i knew it, he tells me he's reading the entire of october and will be back to go through my archives.

there's a bit of fear at the pit of my stomach, fear that he may not like the daughter he left back home in manila, or that he may realize he knows so little of me. there's a fear that i said something that might incriminate me in the future, or said something that's going to send him packing, make him board a plane, and guard my sassy little ass till he believes i'm old enough to date.

but i don't care.

my dad paid me one of those rare compliments that means the world to me. he thinks i write well.

and on a hot october evening, fighting sleep and dreading having to wake up early the next day, a compliment like that will mean the whole world to you.

as if my yahoo problems weren't enough, today, my internet connection decided it didn't want to connect. burned with my god awful experience with go internet and just too damn lazy to buy another prepaid internet card, i said, screw the world, i'm going to just connect using pldt vibe.

which i did, for a week. it was fast, it was reliable, and i at least don't have to deal with how much i am actually spending online until the phone bill arrives. bahala na si batman (and my almost non-existent savings account).

except that tonight, at the end of a very long day wherein

1. i almost engaged in a catfight with a cashier in a laboratory along taft;
2. where i accomplished NOTHING at work except fill out yet another set of application forms, schedule a neuro exam at pgh, lead the rosary, and watch two episodes of sweet 18;
3. got major chismis from a former student who i love dearly; and
4. finally met up with sammie

my internet connection simply refused to connect.

the strong believer that i am of customer service number, i alternated between trying to connect to pldt vibe and calling their customer service number.

nothing. zilch. nada.

ooooh. v. v. irritating.

and v. v. frustrating. frustrating enough that i was ready to try all the possible letter/number combinations and figure out my brother's password so i can steal some of his internet time. frustrating enough that i called a friend and contemplated on begging for internet time, except that thank goodness she was asleep and she didn't pick up the phone.

i mean, it would have been embarrassing had she answered a ringing cellphone at 1130 in the evening, contemplating on what emergency i may be having, only to realize i was desperate to go online.

when reason prevailed, i realized that damn, i DO have a car which i had just loaded with gasoline and that i DO have money in my wallet, and there IS a 7-11 store 2.3 kms (do not argue with me, i checked using the tripmeter!) away from my house. what's a girl quite desperate to go online to do?

throw all caution to the wind (don't leave the house late, don't go there cause it's full of tambays and what nots, you're a girl you're supposed to stay at home after ten) and drive out, buy that damn internet card, and manage, after one and a half hours of sheer frustration, to finally go online.

and blog about how i had the toughest time going online.

keith, i blame you for this addiction. had it not been for my desire to read your posts again, some of which i read real quick cause i had to go to work already, i may not have been as desperate. if i were to to die real popular, please do my memoirs. your wicked wit will definitely capture the bitch in me.

there are things that not even finally finding the uber-fabulous pointy dalmatian print on pony hair flat shoes you've been wanting for the longest time can fix.

like how life is unfair. how you know you were the one who prayed so hard for your justice to get appointed to the court of appeals but simply because you were still in law school at that time and because several people became lawyers ahead of you, you know that you can only stay in her office up until you pass the bar. after you finally pass it, and when that lovely atty. is finally attached to your name, you'll be overqualified for the position, and even if you were willing to stay in the same position and earn a thousand less than what the lowest lawyer on her staff earns, you're not stupid enough to do that cause RATA is around 6k a month and you aren't rich enough to let go of that much money if only to stay with a justice you respect.

oooohhhh.

i wish i can be adult - or magnanimous - enough to say that it's just money and that job fulfillment can't hold a candle against a stuffed bank account but i am always sorely reminded of the fact that i am 28 years old and that the money in my bank account can't even buy me an authentic gucci bag. while i may have bought my own car, and while the car is in my name, i know that i haven't made car payments in months and that i still owe more than half on my car. i know that i have to make ends meet just to pay my insurance and my car registration and that if something were to happen to me right now, i won't be able to pay my hospital bils.

i need AND want the money.

i don't know what to do, except gripe on and on about how life is so unfair.

even if i were able to finally buy the shoes i love.

p.s. shout-out to farah and to you (i don't know if you want your name here)--- ooooh. i do love your blogs!

p.p.s. i also love the fact that you guys appreciate pointy shoes as much as i do and so this post - which begins and ends with my new pair of shoes - is dedicated to you.

p.p.s. farah - while i'd want to agree with you that round toe shoes do look stumpy, i am an equal opportunity shoe lover and so i have to admit that i also have stumpy shoes, and if i had my way, round toe ballet flats would never be taken out of the shoe market.

i thought my gold belt was the height of fashion...

... until my three-year old nephew grabbed my belt, slung it over his shoulders, and shouted at the top of his voice, "heavyweight champion, errold!"

*sigh*

blinded by the sweet scent of money

from the get go, i've always known that i won't be working for a law firm, at least not a kick-ass huge, money-making, ultra important law firm. all those years working while studying has convinced me that right after the bar, i'm going to take it slow, enjoy my work while making enough money, and for the first time, breathe.

i thought i had it made when i got the job in the court of appeals. i've got a good justice, officemates are cool, and it's exactly what i've wanted since fourth year law school. but then yesterday, while we were out in the mall, i finally found out what working for the law firm really means.

at least six hundred effing thousand a year. at least. not at the most, or maximum of but they're guaranteed six hundred thousand a year. of course that's before taxes. and that's before the lifestyle you need to go with the salary, which includes, among other things, dry cleaning bills (for the suits), gasoline (cause you can't be riding an fx no more), and a hot cup of starbucks coffee (after all, you've gone by with 2 hours sleep only). it's not all good, an officemate who formerly worked for a law firm said.

but the money, i sighed. that means being able to finally finish spike payments.

the thought stayed with me the entire afternoon. and the whole of last night. and came back again when i woke up this morning.

i know i love what i'm doing now.

and they did tell me that the bonuses in the government are relatively competitve (although admittedly it will never be anywhere near 600k).

and i know that the connections i'll be making now will be invaluable in my future in the judiciary.

still.

the sweet scent of money.

*sigh*

i'm convinced: yahoo messenger hates me.

not only does it hate me, it hates me with a passion. a passion i have never witnessed all those years when i was stuck using MSN messenger to chat with my parents.

*sigh*

in the beginning, it was just a simple matter of "delayed messages". my dad would buzz me incessantly thinking i had fallen asleep or that i had left the pc running which i ran to the other room to watch bits and pieces of CSI (which, admittedly, i'd do sometimes) only to realize that YM, much like a sucat-baclaran fx, would patiently wait until it had all the messages it wanted then dump them within seconds of each other on my dad's pc. that wasn't really fun, but being sun cellular subscriber, i'm pretty much familiar with the concept of message lag... and somehow, wasn't really bothered by it.

eventually, the problem turned into YM arbitrarily deciding it wants to stop me from chatting, maybe cause anna and i have been making certain people lait (i'm sorry if i'm writing this way, but really, there isn't really any other way to capture the emotion, right?)without guilt. one minute i'd be happily typing away, the next minute i'd be stuck with the sleeping icon.

now, YM has gotten trickier. last sunday, it involved YM refusing to launch its window. i clicked, right clicked, used even the icon on my internet browser, all to no avail. YM, at least to me, was simply just not going to happen. sometimes, it would show me the bouncing yellow happy face over and over again. it would bounce, display the message "connecting rvillanv", pause - as if to tell me, almost there! almost there - then go on bouncing again. i wait, and wait, and wait, and it never connects.

by the time i actually get to connect to YM, after several PC restarts and after battling with my sucky dial-up ISP, the person i was supposed to chat with, has left the room already.

bugger.

i hope that google comes up with something soon. much like the way it revolutionized searching online, emailing, and blogging, i hope that google will do something about instant messaging. i am at wit's end with YM, especially with parents who seem to have no plans of coming home anytime soon and friends so busy that you only get to chat with them online instead of real life. one day, i might smash the pc i'm using out of sheer frustration, but since the reality of an apple iBook beneath my fingers still months away, i'm going to have to exercise what little patience i have in dealing with the situation.

i know i said i was going to do a whole lot of fun stuff after the bar. massage, haircut, hair treatments, manicure and pedicure, and a major shopping spree. with the exception of the haircut that i desperately needed, i haven't done any of those yet.

i mean, buying a pair of shoes does not count as a shopping spree, right?

what's funny though is that a week into my job as EA5 (i dunno what that means but that's what my position is) and i've actually forgotten about "the grand post-bar plan". i'm actually enjoying work, and similar to a pre-schooler who can't wait to go to school, i can't wait to go to work. not only that, i manage to hit the books for half an hour each night researching for the decisions i'm drafting.

once more i've turned into part nerd, part recluse. and somehow, i'm loving it. not even robinson's manila, which happened to be one of my most favorite malls in the past, can lure me from my desk when i've begun writing.

for the past week, my schedule's been like, wake-up, go to work, go home, curl up with a good book, and sleep. i've managed to read three fiction books already and finish a decision, a whole lot of resolutions, and am halfway through another decision.

and total mall expense? P319, for the shoes.

i don't know how long i'll get to keep this up though. but until the feeling fades away, i guess the entire world is stuck with rosa the nerd.

so you better love that, for now.

i <3 the court of appeals.

i <3 using my brain every single day to draft decisions, resolutions, and what-nots.

i <3 my justice who actually reads every single line of my drafts, corrects them, and passes them on to the stenographer without making a big deal out of the little mistakes that i made.

i <3 being allowed to arrive at 8:30 and to leave at 4:30 ... not because i'm sneaking out but simply because those are the working hours.

i <3 the freedom my justice gives us, by just giving us deadlines instead of looking over our shoulders every single minute making sure we churn out decisions every single minute of the day.

i <3 the people in the staff, the lawyers, clerks, and stenographer who have been all so nice to me and my friend.

i <3 the fact that i can now ride the fx to work (my dream for the longest time, i don't know why) or the bus and not need to drive to get to work comfortably.

i <3 the fact that i don't have to rush off to somewhere - which is basically what i have been doing since i graduated from college, first because of my MA classes, then because of law school, then because of the bar - and be able to finally sit down in coffee places and chat with friends OR just walk around the mall OR even just lie down on my bed and finish book after book.

but, i still do NOT <3 the uniforms.

on my first actual day of work at the court of appeals (i've been "working" there - doing the work at home but not reporting at the office due to the bar- since mid-april), i finally realized why the government and its instrumentalities, are quite unproductive: their uniforms are quite, to put it mildly, something no one would wear on any given day.

i mean, come on, unless you're a peaches and cream barbie doll, you wouldn't want to be decked out in head to toe peach right?

right.

tuesdays i think are mustard-colored days, and i don't even want to think what they wear on wednesdays and thursdays. thank god for fridays laundry days, because on that day, people, should they wish to, can erase the memory of ever wearing head to toe peach (or mustard!) by wearing something great, fabulous, and oh-so-fashionista.

i'm shuddering at the thought of having my measurements taken for a uniform, not because my measurements aren't exactly 36-25-36 right now but because once they give me the uniforms, i'd be constrained to wear it. and goodness, i don't think any amount of accessorizing or shoe shopping can fix the fact that the pants are sort of bitin and are baston and the cut is universally un-flattering.

why do uniforms have to be ugly? can't they got some hot-shot designer, say, rajo laurel, to create something nice, tasteful, and something that will make everyone feel like actually wearing the uniform? i remember that there was a year in CSA where they gave the teachers the same fabric and allowed the teachers to design their own uniforms. i don't know if it was just me, but i'd like to think the teachers taught better that year, and i learned more.

anyway, i'll be getting ready for work in a while. no uniform for me just yet, and so today, i'll indulge in MY inner fashionista and try to look amazing and cute and all that. it won't be hard to do in a sea of mustard.

p.s. shout out to boss rey: i SMSd you yesterday about you and me and VV getting together now that the bar is over. you didn't reply. schedule something, will you?

p.p.s. shout out to calvin: i sent you SMS, lots of it, but i think sun hates me again, notwithstanding the fact that i'm actually ahead of my payments.

p.p.p.s. shout out to faerah: i finally know what we have in common. yay. it involves one of my favorite persons in the world who used to look like this boy in a bear brand commercial when we were kids. i don't know if my brother told him that but you can try asking him about it.

p.p.p.p.s shout out to anna: so, are you coming home? i'm readying my lait genes, shopping genes, chismis genes, and parlor genes already for major bonding with you. btw - we ARE going to 168 and shopping big time :) i actually restrained myself from using my bonus (we got a bonus at CA already, something i got once in the 6 years i worked for THAT school!)

too broke to go out and buy the shoes i've been wanting for more than a month now and too lazy to do anything productive, i spent my first day of vacation lounging around the house.

it was a normal day.

in fact, it was quite a boring day. an entirely forgettable day. a day that was just like any other boring, non-momentous, why-did-god-create-boring-days-such-as-this kind of day.

except my ex called, again. after roughly seven weeks of not hearing anything from him, not even a measly "good luck" for the bar, he somehow managed to dredge my home number from the inner recesses of his brain, dial my number, and chat with me.

as with before, it was one of those hi, how are you, are you now seeing someone new kind of call. and as with before, the phone call left me bewildered, puzzled, and with the knowledge that no matter how hard i try to deny it, affected.

and so, if you're someone's ex boyfriend,

please don't call her unless you want to get back together.
please don't pretend you want to be friends, because i'm willing to bet, she has more than enough friends.
please don't make chit-chat about her schedule unless you're making plans of seeing her.

and please, if you were mean enough to tell her you don't love her anymore, understand that the immediate consequence of that act means that she might probably not want to hear from you for a very very long time.

Funny.

My best friends have this way of either getting married or leaving. Just recently, I made a new best friend. And in less than 24 hours, he’ll be flying away.

God knows when he’s coming back.

I’m sad. I’m frustrated. I’m mad. I’m going crazy missing him already. Today marks the first day I didn’t get a good morning call from him.

What I got was a text message. While I must admit I go crazy over text messages, a text message is nothing compared to lovely first-thing-in-the-morning phone calls which have a way of making me forget that I was fuming mad at him the night before.

Oh well.

Goodbye, sweetie.

I’ll see you when I finally get that visa.

what? no vacation? ... the single thought that was running through my mind as my court of appeals justice told me that i had to report for work starting october 3.

that vacation i planned where i was going to lose my bar weight while living off my aunt and grandmother? scrapped.

that "alone time" i planned where i was supposed to purge my room, house, and life of all unnecessary things? scrapped.

those neverending mini-trips to mothership, a return trip to 168, and venturing out into tutuban mall? scrapped.

gawd. even the movie trip with mina had to be put into the backburner. all because of work.

but then i must admit that on my first day of vacation, i was bored. and i do miss my heels and office clothes. and financial independence, well, that's something i must admit i really missed.

an allowance, while regular and free, is off-putting at 28.

so, i plan to enjoy dressing up work. since the justice said jeans are okay while i wait for my uniform (i hope it never comes, it's an ugly shade of mustard that no accessory can make better!), i'm looking forward to looking un-bar-like (finally) in heels, jeans, and a nice top.

i also plan to enjoy work this time, law school being a memory. no more rushing after work to make it to class. maybe i can finally catch up on the movies i missed. or have coffee and drinks with friends. or even make another trip to 168 on this side.

whatever.

while the plan has changed, i haven't.

and the new, happy (or trying to be happy rosa) will definitely make the most out of it.

those five months i spent trying to study my butt off, i had one date in mind: september 26.

i had visions of what september 26 was going to be like. at times, it involved an entire day at the parlor just enjoying the pampering they can do to my nails, hair, and face. sometimes, it involves being massaged from head to toe until i don't want to me mashed and poked at anymore. when i'm feeling rich, the visions includes an all out shopping spree.

who would have thought that september 26 would see me in bed with my brother's nintendo double screen and sending SMS which basically said one thing: i am so bored i'm ready to scream.

at some point, i actually thought of picking up a law book and start studying just in case i have to take the bar again.

anyway, i got my mojo back the day after, having planned a trip to 168 with my aunt and her fashionable friend. i overloaded on a whole lot of things, including a P250 fake technomarine which totally stole my heart. i plan on wearing it every single day until the face made of plastic silver turns an ugly shade of gunmetal gray. of course i bought shoes (anna we gotta go there together! shoes galore!) and i actually bought accessories (the single aspect of fashion where i've never ventured before!). i even got ghostwriter a little something.

speaking of ghostwriter, i fled manila so that i won't have to deal with the loneliness that will definitely come after he leaves. it's funny how i've survived 28 years of my life without him, then he makes an appearance, calls every single day without fail, and all of a sudden, i'm addicted! i'm addicted to the laughter, and to the fights (yes, i pick a fight with you sometimes just for the kicks, shhh.) and i am addicted to the faux accent that makes me fall asleep. sometimes.

and so, people, i'm back. i hope you don't desert this pink blog now that ghostwriter has fled the scene. maybe, just maybe, we can get him to make an appearance every so often.

Today, this ghostwriter is evacuating, not only because I'm being ejected by Rox, but more importantly because now she can hang by herself without the bar on her back.

So this is my little note - the kind that decent house-crashers post after partying hard and accidentally splotching beer on the ceiling.

I want to thank the bar for giving me the break to make a fuss of the once-quiet and less-hype existence of Rox. I appreciate the early Sunday morning drag - waking up at dawn, driving down macapagal ave and calling her to come down from her hotel room.

Ghostwriting for Rox wasn't bad at all. There was unexpected challenge to hush on a lot of things that she wanted to keep private, like my identity and whether I'm taken. And I said yes because I didn't think those things mattered. But I took that one too lightly. My being mysterious became an issue, according to Rox. Recently, I ended up as an item in someone's wish list. And, one of her readers discovered my blog and gamely tagged me.

Fascinating.

I'm very much flattered by your curiosity and, of course, you are welcome to visit my blog from time to time. Just a tip off. Rox is jealous of the effort you're making to increase my traffic. So I won't tell if you won't. Ha ha!

Alright. No more sauntering on exits. Thanks, folks. Somehow, your interest has made her site meter numbers soaring. It's been a pleasure!

One more thing...

Now that she's human again, please give her a call (or text) and invite her out. I won't be able to do this because I'm flying out on Saturday and...blah-blah...

Sigh.

This is the part where Rox wants me to shut up. Mornings are now greeted by her persistent "Don't Go" request. Looking at the bright side, it's the only thing she's not feeble about.

Rox, you know I love you and I will miss you. Don't worry. I will stay in touch.

* * *
An hour after the bar was over...

ME: I'm proud of you.
ROSA: You know you're a big part of it.
ME: Only because you let me.

at 5:01 on sunday ...

...the bar would be FINALLY over, and if and when i pass, the last time i'll ever subject myself to that cruel and unusual punushment masking as an examination.

... i'd put on my UP LAW shirt, enjoy the bragging rights that go with being a graduate of THE UP LAW (har! har!), and hope that people will forget that the same girl who was blankly staring at her paper was actually a product of UP.

... i'd walk out of dlsu taft, waving a penant or something, and basking in the fun known as salubong.

... enjoy the view, enjoy the feeling, and pray like crazy to all the angels and saints that i'll never see that same view again.

and i know i said that life begins after september 2005 ....

... but it's funny how i hardly have anything planned. i don't have a job lined up yet (except the court of appeals thing). i don't even have a boyfriend wanting to marry me. just me, and a ton of papers that i hope i will never touch again except to research on a case.

but, since i'm the type who makes lists, i've made a list of things to keep my unemployed self busy.

* go to luneta with mina. and oh, teach her how to ride a bus.
* be pam's friend on friendster.
* purge myself of bar memories. this can be easily achieved by going to mothership, and henry sy, knowing the fan that i am, has actually scheduled a sale the weekend after the bar. we're close, haha.
* visit gilbert. get the following done: hair relaxing, trim, face threading.
* visit ultra-secret barber shop and get nails done. make sure no one sees me.
* visit ton-ton's. get massage. go home. then probably get another massage the day after. haha.

and, finally, kick ghostwriter out.

kidding. i know he has more fans out there. one friend (i don't know if you can call him that, JOKE!) even went as far as sending me an SMS and said, "maybe you should just have him write about your life. it's funnier when he writes."

sigh.

lovingly nurtured this for two and a half years and a month into this pink blog and he's got my friends turning on me. i must be a bore. (oh, calvin! fishing. haha!)

anyway, ghostwriter is VERY much taken by a sweet lovely girl who i'll meet for coffee (pwede pati shopping?) one of these days. hmmm... he's been a good friend for a year. and he believes he's hot. and a huge flirt. and so, he'd probably call if you give him your number. and he'll probably chat with you in YM if you catch him there. and he'll probably be the amazing person he is.

and that's the reason why i can't say who he is.

although, here's a clue. he's a link out there --->
hanapin mo na lang.

Nowadays she's pretty exhausted to agonize on the last bloody Sunday. I suppose it's like engaging in dodge ball. She knows that the ball's coming at her but, instead of making the usual big wide steps to avoid getting hit, she's calculated so well the ball's velocity and the time it should knock her off the game, that all she does is do an ala-Matrix acrobat.

And so, she goes out once in a while with her date - whoever the author of the book she is required to study.

Tuesday found her in Figaro in Town, pigging out on pasta and a pint of BTIC, and studying legal forms and stuff that comprise remedial law. A few hours after lunch, she realized that the place wasn't conducive to study. Meanwhile, in the back of her mind, she was contemplating on whether to go the distance and buy a new pair of shoes.

When she's at home, she studies in the kitchen. And I'm afraid there's not much to consume there unless she's shopped for junk food from Puregold. Or if she asks me to send her food.

Yesterday, we were at Festival Mall - she had a pizza-pasta buffet with her brother, while I was somewhere strolling inside the mall with my mom who wanted me to shop shoes for her. That time, I wanted to trade places with Rox. I knew that she'd rather feast on nine west pairs than on hawaiian pizza. Or maybe not. And she would love walking with my mom because both of them are sort of school snobs (the U.P. and "others" attitude). I simply wanted to sit and fork the pasta. Heck. I would even foot (no pun intended) the bill for her and Kit, even without his invite to have lunch with them.

(Rox, it's awfully sweet of you to say that you'd rather want me to trade places with Kit. But, in my opinion, bros are better off sitting and probably babe-watching while gurls glam hunt in the mall.)

I realized a jaw-dropping detail about Rox yesterday. She is a walking Clickthecity.com as far as her malls - mothership, town and festival - are concerned. From store events to location, she can be your ultimate mall guide. This is a stern caveat to her would-be boyfriend. Never use a mall event as an alibi unless you want your ego (and balls) crushed.

Incoming side bar...

Dear Rox, given that the main roads of BF (Tropical, Elizalde and Aguirre) have been opened to the public, I don't feel like my usual conyo self anymore. Wala na. Di na kayo exclusive. Transfer na to Alabang. Hehe.

Bear with me. I'm feeling randomly twisted.

They say happy marriage is an oxymoron. Now check out the following:
1. Mabuhay Funeral Homes
Although I've never really seen this, my mom says it is located somewhere in Cavite. Viewing of the departed must be really something here, especially when they see the body in a natural sleeping position. (Suggested tagline: Parang natutulog lang siya)

2. Felix Long Hair Barber Shop
This one is located in the residential area near NAIA (Pasay side, bordering Paranaque). When the trip to the barber shop is merely to gossip and drink a round of gin bilog. Here, you won't find a warning sign that says, "Bawal ang nakasimangot" because, instead, the sign reads, "Bawal ang kalbo." (Suggested tagline: Pangit ka nagpagupit?)

3. Eskimo Sizzling
It's a hole-in-a-wall restaurant in Sta. Cruz near Carriedo. You think they serve penguin soup? How about chips of real iceberg in your glass? (Suggested tagline: Brrr! That's hot.)

There's nothing more biting to the wit than the concept of making attempted suicide a heinous crime. Final words would be, "Are you going or are you going?" Final-est words would be, "Or else!"

Discovery Channel predicts that by 2020, the number 1 killer of the human race would be depression and not cancer. To calm us down, sans the Prozac, light a ciggy. Who knows, by 2020, you would have beaten the depression. Now, I don't know about lung cancer. Oh heck. No one's immune to death, anyway, save for Pinocchio who'd probably end up as firewood.

A modern-day Pinocchio would be made of coco lumber. Or popsicle sticks.

Have you heard of the arsonist named Pinocchio? He's made of match sticks.

A psychiatrist conducts basic assessment on a brainy schizo...
DOC: May naririnig ka bang boses na kumakausap sa yo?
SCHIZO: Opo.
DOC: Meron? Anong sinasabi?
SCHIZO: Tinatanong po ako kung may naririnig akong boses na nagsasalita.

The picture you see is that of the rosemary.

When she stayed over at her aunt's over the weekend, she was summoned to hang back on the patio where it was reckoned conducive to study. The wind that drifted brought in scent of rosemary that her aunt planted in the garden. I deduced from the tone of her voice (as she described the aroma) that her acquaintance with the herb captivated unexpected pleasure.

The smell of brewed coffee could have done it for me. But because she isn't a coffee drinker, I take it that maybe a waft of rosemary might be her jolt.

Below are five random facts about the rosemary. Fascinating, though, is that with each factoid, there is something that I can associate with her.

1. Rosemary is a member of the mint family.

Rosa is a member of the mint chocolate fan club.

2. Rosemary helps to clear the mind and improve memory, and will aid in dispelling drowsiness..

Rosa needs help to clear the mind and improve memory, and that will aid in dispelling drowsiness (especially as she prepares for the last two bloody Sundays).

3. Rosemary was named as herb of the Year 2000 by the International Herb Association.

Rosa saw her name as one of the UP LAE passers in the year 2000.

4. If you want to grow Rosemary herb, you will need to give this plant plenty of space.

If you want to grow with Rosa, you will neeed to know that this gurl needs plenty of space.

5. Rosemary is regarded as the herb of remembrance and friendship so it is certainly appropriate to use it around the beginning of the New Year when so many friends and family get together.

Remember, as Rosa's true friend, it is certainly appropriate to invite her around the beginning of the New Year when so many friends and family get together.

Now feel free to make your own Rosa-rosemary association.

DISCLAIMER: It is purely a coincidence that the name of the herb and that of the person, which isn't fictitious, is similar.

I thought I interested her with a grotesque pen that has a red orange body and half of a human brain on one end. The ink's black.

"Yes, I like the pen."

I had two of those pens so I could give her which ever half of the brain she wanted. It took her a few secs to think about which half she wanted.

To help her out, I asked which part of her brain she thinks she exhausts more.

"Do you know that I can use both?"

She answered my question with a question that was meant to suggest that there's scientific evidence why she deserved her university latin honors.

Candidly, I am not well-read as to which fraction of the brain is fuller of zip when you're creative like me. Or shopaholic like her.

Withdraw that last statement. I'm sure she'll object. Or disagree and then maim based on the preponderance of evidence. Whichever. It doesn't matter. Relevance is hearsay, as far as I swear to tell the truth and nothing but the truth so help me, Doc.

What the! It appears that the active side of my brain just got upset. Too much banter with a bar examinee in between bloody Sundays is like attending to someone whose execution has been stayed.

Scattered brains. That's what I get for excessive twirling of the bizarre pen between my fingers. (Do isko people still do this when answering tests or listening to a lec?)

So how did we settle the case of the grotesque pen?

We never got to that part. There was something more important to decide upon that minute, which, by now, I managed to forget what it was.

the most expensive tissue paper in MY world

being the middle class, dorm girl, UP student graduate that i am, as calvin has so succintly pointed out the other day, my body isn't at all used to airconditioning. thus, within ten minutes after having arrived in the august lecture room of the ateneo, wearing sandals and a thin shirt (it was sooo warm when i left the house!), my nose started running. at first i dealt with it by sniffing every five seconds or so. eventually, when it seemed like the lecturer was being sniffed closer to me along with the mucus, i knew it was time to get tissue paper.

armed with my coins, i made my way to the vendo machine. i daintily (haha! as if!) slipped four one-peso coins into the tiny slots, trying to make sure they don't roll off and fall onto the floor and, with all the gusto i could muster while sniffing still, turned the knob. my coins fell with a resounding clink into the inner confines of the vendo machine.

the tissue paper, however, resolutely stayed inside the machine.

now, being the UP student graduate that i am, i knew that machines like this simply need a good whack to let go of MY property. with my palm flat and my body poised to give it the best hit i can give, i slammed onto the machine hoping for it to let go.

the tissue paper did not even budge.

frantic, i started giving it smaller hits. nothing.
stronger hits. nothing.
hits worthy of manny pacquiao's winning k.o. nothing.

now, my pride was at stake here. i can either continue creating the same ruckus inside the bathroom until a security guard pulls me away from the machine or i can cough up another four bucks and, well, buy another pack of tissue paper.

either that or wipe my snot with my shirt. and, with crush-worthy men (waves at MINA!) all around me, i so know that THAT is not an option.

and so i bought another pack of tissue paper.

after blowing and sniffing and wiping my nose in general, i had just about run out of tissue again. i am down to my last piece. i'm not really ready to face the machine again. i know i can walk over the hundred meters or so to the mall and buy tissue, but i know that once i make it out of the library i may never come back until tomorrow.

*sigh*

it's four days to go before another set of bar examinations and all i can think about is tissue paper.

p.s.
shout out to my ultra mega favorite cousin anna who bought ME lovely lovely kenneth cole shoes.

*sigh*

i love you.

mwah. mwah. mwah.

i know i said i won't post...

...having left this blog in the capable hands of my ghostwriter, but damn it, i also said i won't go to the mall the entire month of september and yet i found myself buying a shirt the day before a bar examination, totally going against my promise not to wear anything new on a bar exam (baka kasi malasin).

see, sometimes, promises are made to be broken.

especially when the promise involves not texting certain people i'd rather end friendships with, but that's another post altogether.

this post should be about the last two weeks. the last two sundays, more specifically.

and frankly, while people can rant and shout obsceneties and say a whole lot of things about the four gruelling exams that 5,758 people have gone through, all i can say can be captured in two words.

ayoko na.

of course, as i said, promises are made to be broken so i bet i'll be back in sheraton again this saturday, lounge around when i should be studying, and be in la salle bright and early sunday morning and allow myself to be tortured by men the supreme court refers to as examiners.

The answers below are authentically hers.

.:. ANO'NG STUDENT NUMBER MO? ## - 17724
.:. NAKAPASA KA BA OR WAITLISTED? - pasado ako!
.:. PAANO MO NALAMAN ANG ENTRANCE EXAM RESULT? - tumawag yung tita ko na galit sa akin, totally bewildered na pumasa ako ng MBB (molecular bio abd biotech)
.:. FIRST CHOICE MO BA ANG UP? - is there any other university?
.:. ALAM MO BA ANG UPG SCORE MO? - hindi
.:. ANO ANG FIRST CHOICE MO NA COURSE? - MBB
.:. SECOND CHOICE? - bs bio
.:. ANO naging COURSE MO? mbb (and then i shifted)
.:. NAGPLANO KA BANG MAG-SHIFT? yes and i did
.:. NAKAPAG-DORM KA NA BA? - of course!
.:. NAKA UNO KA NA BA? - of course!
.:. NAGKA-3? yes
.:. HIGHEST GRADE: 1.0 in an 8-unit subject
.:. LOWEST: 5 (my 4 lapsed into a 5)
.:. WORST EXPERIENCE SA UP: not meeting my ultimate who left manila just as i was about to enter UP
.:. LAGI KA BANG PUMAPASOK SA KLASE? oo naman
.:. ANO'NG ORG MO? debate soc, training pool for fencing and up x-org
.:. MAY SCHOLARSHIP KA BA? - wala
.:. PINANGARAP MO BANG MAG-CUM LAUDE? hindi
.:. KELAN KA NAGTAPOS? 98
.:. FAVE PROF: dina ocampo
.:. WORST TEACHER: terry ong
.:. FAVE SUBJECT: edr 169
.:. WORST SUBJECT: math 53 (calculus)
.:. FAVE LANDMARK: amphitheatre
.:. BUILDING: law
.:. PABORITONG KAINAN: rodic's
.:. Noong ESTUDYANTE KA PA MAGKANO BA ANG BINABAYAD MO SA JEEP? 1.25 ang ikot
.:. LAGI KA BA SA LIB? i think people would doubt it was me if ever they saw me there
.:. NAGPUNTA KA BA SA CLINIC NUNG MINSANG NAGKASAKIT KA? nakasakay pa ko ng ambulance (the perks of being a dormer)
.:. MAY CRUSH KA BA SA CAMPUS? of course
.:. BF/GF? yes
.:. MAY BALAK KA BA MAG-MASTERS O MAG-PHD? i already went to law
.:. ANU-ANO ANG MGA NAGING PE MO? karate, fencing, advanced fencing, running
.:. KAMUSTA NAMAN ANG BLOCK NYO? i'm still friends with some of them until now
.:. NAKAPANOOD KA NA BA NG GRADUATION SA UP? nag-attend ako ng grad sa UP
.:. MEMORIZE MO BA ANG ALMA MATER SONG? hindi but i know that you're supposed to raise your left fist instead of your right when singing it. anyone who raises his right is just pretentious sh*t.
.:. MEMBER KA BA NG UP VARSITY TEAM? of course not
.:. NAKA-PERFECT KA NA BA NG EXAM? no
.:. ANO'NG AYAW MO SA FINALS WEEK? the fact na walang finals week (teachers give exam when the spirit moves them)
.:. DITO KA BA NATUTONG UMINOM NG BEER? - hindi pero di ako marunong uminom ng beer
.:. ANO'NG GUSTO MO SA UP? mura pagkain
.:. ANO'NG AYAW MO? dami pangit
.:. MAGANDA BA ID PIC MO? of course
.:. MAY GINAWA KA NA BANG ILLEGAL SA LOOB NG CAMPUS? of course

dear tinggay, jill, golda - you're next daw.

Something you should know about people with western orientation - we don't mind your honesty. We appreciate your frankness.

She was able to apply this on her delightful friend from Seattle whom she met up for lunch last Wednesday. For the record, she almost cancelled because she was concerned inviting Mina to travel to Powerplant from Shang was too much. Fault the constraint on the Ateneo bar review sked. Lectures start either at 1:30 or 2 PM. That leaves them pretty much with less time to hang together for lunch. Understanding her, she wouldn't want to miss any lecture - even if she'll just end up napping in the room.

(You see, she has this theory about reviewing and sleeping. She exceptionally believes that if she puts a book under her pillow, her brain will suck up the contents of that book. So visualize the funk inside her brain as she catnaps in the middle of a lecture. Hmm... you think that'll work phenomenally on me if I try it with FHM?)

So anyway, I advised her to simply say it, as I was positive her friend wouldn't mind the adjustment.

Now I'm envious of Mina. She beat me to the MRT. I heard that she boarded it on her way to Makati from San Mateo. (Wow. I don't know anyone who resides in San Mateo. That is where they dumped all the garbage in the metropolis, right?)

I'll be out of here as soon as the bar is done. Destination is the midwest, Chicago as my first stop. And it might take some time before I come back. I guess riding the MRT will be one of those deeds that I have to do before I die.

Now, over and over, she tells me to meet up with her mom in Chicago. I'm sure she has a hidden agendum. Like, she wants me to visit her dad and take the darn ipod back to Best Buy for a good replacement. Like, she wants me to check out jimmy choos, nine west and other kikay specialists, and send her the good stuff.

Hanggang States, aliping sagigilid pa rin.

But, of course, there are lots (and I mean, LOTS) of days when she turns into super best bud and tells me that she loves me.

Yeah, I admit. So do I, without the jologs hoodwink. Now stop the petty selos already.*

*I dug my own hole here. I'm expecting a not-so-good reaction from Rox at this point. Uh-oh. Run, ghost writer, run!

"I don't feel good," she told me this last Monday.

I know that she was coming down with something that morning and so I advised her to rest the whole day. But, darn it. Reverse psych works on her. So she took off that day. An hour after the 2-5 PM lecture started, she texted. She wasn't feeling good.

Now why wasn't I surprised? Nevertheless, I began to seriously worry. So, she promised to go home early.

And so she napped like a cat for half an hour during the lecture. When she woke up, she turned to her Ipod, played it and began studying on her own. Good thing she was seated at the back.

She did go home right after the 5-7 PM lecture. Usually, she would still stay out and study some more with her classmates either in the library or some joint in Powerplant. That night, she decided that she had enough bearing the muscle pains.

Yesterday she finally heeded my call to simply stay at home and rest. She didn't even give me a hard time convincing her other than raising an objection twice.

"Sayang ang lecture today," she'd aim. This week, it's Civil Law and Taxation, the latter ranking second (and the last?) in her waterloo list.

"It's either you attend all your lectures this week and be sick on Sunday, or you stay home today, sacrifice the day's lecture and not miss the exam this weekend," I warned.

"You're mean. Don't say that," she knocked as if I imparted some voodoo spell.

And so she was reacquainted with being sick. The last time she was ill was June. Anyway, every fours hours or so, we would check on her temperature.

Turns out she had a clogged nose.

The only leisure she had yesterday had been an hour's flee from her home. She picked up the laundry, went to the mall, spent on drinks, paid her bills and bagged herself a big headache. Kulit eh.

Today she's back in school, this time, with a running nose. Hopefully she'd get better before bloody Sunday makes a comeback. She might wet her booklet with mucus droplets, causing the ink from her gel pen to blot. And smeared answers are not good.

* * *
While finishing breakfast at Pancake House today...

ME: Reverse psychology works on you.
ROSA: Of course, not.
ME: Of course, yes.
ROSA: Do you think I need more food?
ME: Ha?
ROSA: They took na kasi my plate.
ME: Ahm...yes.

She becomes silent.

ME: Hey.
ROSA: Yes?
ME: So what are you going to do about it? I said yes.
ROSA: No na. Am busog na eh.
ME: There you go! That's exactly my point!
ROSA: Wha-? Ha? Oh... Hahaha!

What is the Errand Boy?

"It's a service that will provide you with everything you need 24 hours a day. So it's basically another person who will act on your behalf. For example, you need to pick up your dry cleaning or bring your laundry, the Errand Boy will do it for you. Or if you are in a meeting and you need to pay your bills, the Errand Boy will go to the billing place for you. Or if someone has to stay in the house to wait for delivery of a parcel, and you don't have a maid or someone, so the Errand Boy will do that," she explained while maneuvering the 7:30 PM traffic along NAIA Avenue.

Three years ago, she had difficulty picking up her dry cleaning because law school ends at 9 PM. By the time she was free to collect her stuff, the laundry shop had closed.

This morning, she coined her novelty as Rent-A-beep, the beep being by my name. In other words, the idea is to create an aliping sagigilid for rent.

I'm just a guy who happens to take responsibility on behalf of a best bud whose career as a counsel is about to take off. However, should she turn forty and ambitious in business, I expect to earn extra from her raket as the first employee.

What if she establishes this type of service?

I can only imagine that some dude customer walks in. He feels like surprising his gf with a little domestic help so he pays up. Dude customer hands me a spare key so I could enter unnoticed and take gf's laundry to the nearest Lavandero. I arrive to perform the job stealthily until gf catches my hand dipped in her hamper. And the first thing that gf does is a what-are-you-doing-in-my-apartment shriek. The last thing I hear before getting knocked out is that of a flower vase smashed into smithereens.

Man, she should provide insurance.

Incidentally, Vans Jamora, an interior designer consultant, recently opened Rent-A-Husband. Before you, ladies, arch your eyebrows let me clarify. Rent-A-Husband is not an escort service but rather one that pimps a handyman to do tasks from changing a doorknob to fixing a leak in the roof.

Now, if only to scrape the supreme barrel of impure thoughts, I'd say go in style and set up Rent-A-Eunuch. First 100 customers will have continental breakfast in bed, our treat. Oh, and sure-why-not, our eunuchs will do repairs. Replacement of screws is on the house.