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.

The choice of using quality ingredients initiates the making of the breakfast of champions for Examinee No. 5469: potato, two small ripe tomatoes, clove of garlic, half of one large white onion and a can of Purefoods corned beef.

She enjoys it soupy so I add little amounts of water while everything is being sauteed on my pet frying pan, a good buy from a highway peddler in San Pablo, Laguna a couple of years back.

The mysterious ingredient, however, is a dash of prayer that I mumble before the first ingredient goes under my favorite Japanese kitchen knife.

And so, this will be her sunup feast for the next four Sundays of the month - corned beef - and OJ to assuage the AM tension.

For her lunch, she will have the homemade ham and cheese with sliced apples sandwich as requested. This food will spawn all the essential positive energy she'll need to seize the rest of the day.

Tomorrow when I wake up, it will be like attending the Simbang Gabi. I will have to come around with the poultry, cram all the edible provisions in a paper bag and hop to her hotel.

Wow. I feel like a parent. Let me accentuate a bit. I experience the confidence of a parent who senses that his kid will be one of the first pass the post.

Yes, I've heard the cliche: Passing is 99% perspiration and 1% luck. But to me, there is no luck, only prayer. And for the past weeks, I've been supersizing my "amen."

Call it bar ops to the heavens.

This is so extra-terrestrial. The bugging started late last night and persisted until this morning.

"Start posting," she demanded impatiently.

Just like you, I have no idea as to why she picked me to blog on her behalf. I mean, of all people why choose someone who's not into jimmy choos or anything pink? Take my word for it. I never fantasized about her in this approach.

So, yeah, her turf is wide open. I've got the keys to her house but only because we've become intimate on a certain level to make me her aliping sagigilid.

Cue in mental processing...

I could be the mischievous caretaker and impulsively alter the dominant color from pink to blue. Or amend her blog name into a single word that is well-nigh symmetrical - realism. Or upload a new skin that would reflect my semi-sasquatch behavior.

But let's not explore the possibility on the drastic/bold changes I might dreadfully decide on. In the first place, I won't make the hassle. I'll try to keep the peace in here.

Lest she gripes that she, alas, gave the privilege to the wrong person, I will be a good guest. Plus the fact that there's immense pressure when she commissioned almost everyone to email her once I've overstepped. (FYI. There's no rule on emailing her just to shout out that I am aptly entertaining you while she's "clearing" the bar.)

Thus, there won't be any Chippendale look-alike photos posted, even if you put your soul on the market to the pitchfork guy. I won't even light my Marlboro green while blogging because she doesn't smoke. I will categorically not flirt with women who are, in my regard, God's gift to men. And, sure, I will update you on how she is doing - a discreet attempt to stalk and film her panic attacks in compassionate words.

Scout's honor.

dear reader,

as i've said in the last post, it's september and since
september = bar;
and bar = no life;
and no life = no blogging,

i decided to do something crazy.

i asked an old friend to be my ghost writer.

he told me to tell you only good things about him, like how he's god's gift to women. but, see, since i've never lied in my blog, i just can't say that.

all i can say is that he writes well, and he has a following.

and i trust him. i trust that he won't link to porn, or would write things that would drive my readers away. while he won't write about shoes and bags and all things nice and girly and so rosa-ish, i know he'd keep this blog interesting enough for you to keep coming back as you always have in the past.

and oh, i trust that he won't flirt with the girls on my blog.

so, enjoy the month that he'd be here. it'll be cool, i promise.

heart,

rosa

p.s. and if he's violated any of the rules abovementioned, tell me.