Piloto, huwag po.

Flew seair last week to and from Boracay last week. The aircraft was really old and rickety. Nothing like the squeaking, rattling parts of the plane you're on to make you reflect on things like: 

10 things you never want to hear from pilots.

1) Aabot pa yan. Di pa naman umiilaw eh.

2) She left me pare. Ayoko na!

3) Huy. Sa tagal tagal ko na dito, ngayon ko lang napansin `to.

4) Pare, I lab you.

5) Eenie... meenie... miney...

6) Taragis. Bakit Japanese ang control manual? Pilipino ako!

7) Welcome and thank you for flying with us. Ingatz.

8) Brod, di ko makita yung likod. Baba ka muna.

9) Ohhhhhh. 45 degrees…. EAST. Linawin kasi eh.

10) Laki talaga nang utang na loob ko kay Captain Raymundo. I don’t think I’ll be here kung di niya ako pinakopya sa finals nung Pilot exam.

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Odd things the internet told me about myself

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My Last Temptation

Yesterday, I decided to go to the gym again. The fact that my membership was expiring in a couple of months and I had been remiss in my duties to my wellbeing were surprisingly sufficient motivators for once. Like the saying goes, my body is a temple, just like those delapidated ruins you see in those Indiana Jones and Lara Croft flicks.

Anyway, mustering the willpower to go to the gym is tough enough, they had to go and do this?
















Upon leaving Fitness First by foot, you will have to pass through that little alleyway flanked by two entrances. Walking past them yesterday, I could not help but take in the "comehither aromas" wafting from both establishments. The irresistable smell of grilled, juicy cheeseburgers, and sumptuous fries along with delectable McChicken patties dancing with the sensory tingle that only freshly baked Krispy Kreme classic doughnuts can give.

Of course, you can take your car instead. However, they were thoughtful enough to provide us with Drive Through window counters. On each side.

A veritable gauntlet for anyone who had just come off a grueling hour or so at the treadmill and weights machines.

I am proud to say I resisted their calls. Only to go home, plop in front of my TV set to watch the PBA games while devouring half a can of Spam and fried rice.

Self-worth

My blog is worth $564.54.
How much is your blog worth?

Hmm. I wonder if I can sell this blog now before they realize they've overpriced it. I can still get a good digital SLR camera for that price can't I? If not a plane ticket to somewhere.

You have got to be kidding me.

I wonder if anyone actually bought this pen solely because of this amazing price cut.

Casual buyer: "It was too expensive before but man, what a deal! 10 centavos off!"

At some point, you get the feeling that the people behind stuff like this reallly think we're all a bunch of suckers.

The early bird gets its eggs served sunny side up.

Breakfast is my favorite meal.

Not just of the day, mind you. It's my favorite meal- period.

I expecially love the breakfast meals at all those fast food joints and restaurants.

You know, the ones they serve till 10 am. And hotel breakfast buffets wow.

On the other hand, I despise getting up early enough for them.

Thank heaven for Pancake House, Tapa King and other establishments who champion the cause of serving breakfast all day and all night.

Although frankly, it isn't quite as satisfying as making it to those "moring only" meals.

But again, I really hate getting up early enough for them.

Well, I'm off to bed.
And in a few hours, the struggle will begin anew.

MR BUD LIGHT JINGLE WRITER

Here's a little something for my friends in the ad biz:




Title: MR BUD LIGHT JINGLE WRITER

ANN: Bud Light Presents Real Men of Genius.

SINGER: Real Men of Genius.

ANN: Today we salute you, Mr. Bud Light Jingle Writer.

SINGER: Mr. Bud Light Jingle Writer.

ANN: Even though your campaign is almost 5 years old, you still manage to clean up at award shows.

SINGER: I got kids that are younger

ANN: Hey judge, here’s my bud light radio ad, where’s my award?

SINGER: Recipe for success

ANN: While the rest of us spend months hacking away in cubicles and recording studios, trying desperately to come up with new winners. You have a formula.

SINGER: E equals Grand Prix squared

ANN: Insert Mr. witty descriptive name here, paste smarmy sarcastic wisecrack there, and top it off with a back-up singer slash glam rocker

SINGER: Hey that’s me `yo!

ANN: You’re so friggin’ brilliant, a whole generation of writers are left on the outside looking in.

SINGER: Do you guys have an opening?

ANN: So crack open an ice cold Bud Light Oh Fixture Of the Festivals

And here’s to you getting too drunk to write another ad

SINGER: Mr. Bud Light Jingle Writer.

ANN: Bud Light Beer. Anheuser-Busch, St. Louis, Missouri

Swiss skills

Those knives of theirs make me wonder just how versatile the Swiss Army soldiers really are.

A batallion of all-around handymen who can open wine bottles.

With neatly groomed fingernails no less.

Chinatown Everywhere

Someone once told me that there's a Chinatown in every part of the world. A corner in each nation which Chinese immigrants have claimed their own.


There's one in New York City.
One in Florida.
One in Virginia.
One in San Francisco.
One in Toronto.
One in Vancouver.
One in Manila.
There's even one in Disney World.

But I really felt it was getting out of hand when a couple of years ago, while on a trip to Shanghai, China
The tour guide took us to Chinatown.

In China.

Yes Virginia, there's a Chinatown in China.

Wouldn't every town in China count as Chinatown?

Apparently not. Because soon enough, we were taken to a small enclosed town which was by far the most cliche' Chinese town I ever saw... and this was in China mind you.

Some one actually thought it was brilliant to put up a Chinatown in China.

You know, for tourists. For tourists visiting China.

All I can say is: Wakanga!

A Few Words On Procrastinating

(content to follow)

5 Famous Songs as they were BEFORE the Final draft...

1) Every Other Thing She Does Is Magic

2) Lunchtime at the Oasis

3) Karma Iguana

4) I Grazed The Sheriff

5) If You're Going To San Francisco (be sure to say 'hi' to my cousin there)

Be Careful What You Wish For...

There's this line from an old Gin Blossoms song that goes "Only Time Will Tell, If Wishing Wells, Could Bring Us Anything." which I always found very inspiring.

Perhaps one day, if we're patient enough, the things we've always dreamed about would come true. After all, we were never promised that our wishes would come true right away.

But then, what about the stuff we wished for when we were kids who didn't know better? Cause I'm pretty sure I wouldn't want some of these to come true NOW.

And I don't mean the wishing for ponies or that complete set of Transformer toys...


Nope. I'm talking about the stupid wishes. For instance...


I once wished to be a lion.


And another time... a zookeeper.


So if you're ever at a zoo, and you see a lion in the Elephant cage sweeping the dung off the floor... just give me a tip and move along.

It just dawned on me...

Today,

As I sat at my desk watching the sun slowly peek out of the horizon to dispel the shadows of darkness as it cast its radiance over this good earth...

I let out a sigh and said to myself:

"What the F*** am I doing in the office this early!?"

Honor Among Thieves

Ah Piracy.

There's a community of people here who download episodes of foreign TV shows and movies off the internet, burn them on VCDs and sell them.

I recently found out that a group of these folks (let's call them Group A) are ticked off at some of their fellow pirates (Group B) because these Group B pirates would buy discs from Group A... rip and burn them... and sell them.

They're ticked off because while they do all the hard pirate work, these other guys pirate their work!

How bad has it gone? You now see them encoding messages attacking the each other into the VCDs. So if Group B pirates copy Group A discs, and the customer views these discs, there's actually an INSULT against the Group B guys whom they bought it from.

For the pirates protection, apparently.

I'd comment on this... but the irony says it all. I can't top that.

I wonder...

... why Velcro shoes went out of style?


... what makes white lies white?


... if librarians ever take home books?


... what Scarlett Johanssen is doing right this very moment?


... if retired porn stars ever sit around reliving the glory days?


... if prostitution is really the oldest profession, were there any Call-cave-girls putting out in exchange for, I dunno... fire?


... if Father Abraham were alive today, how many children would he have?


... why genies grant THREE wishes and not five? Or just one?


... what pick-up line did Adam use on Eve? "Hey! You've got one of my bones in you. Want another?"


... how do we know Australia isn't on top, and some early explorer just had the map upside down? (Good Lord, we've been living a lie!)


... if there are any people with near death experiences that go: "Come towards the dark, child... come towards the dark, child..."

hmm.

American Invasion

You know what bugs me about the term "African-American" and "Asian-American?"

These are still, in essence, racist terms.

And it will remain so until they decide to start calling every white person "European-Americans."

Because if you get technical about it, the only American-Americans by that definition would be the Hawaiians, the Inuits and of course, the Native Americans, who, ironically, got mistaken for Indians by the Euro-americans.

Later, they tried correcting this by calling them American Indians... not to be confused with Indian-Americans who actually came from India.

Incidentally, does this mean a black man in Canada is an African-Canadian? And if a guy comes from America and moves to Africa, does that make him an American-African?

Me speakee indie

Here I am, a Filipino-Chinese fellow who, in times of boredom, likes to mimic a bad indian accent.

Some friends of mine have said that this is quite racist of me, but the truth is I don't really have anything against Indians.

And besides, there are like over a billion Indians out there. I'm pretty sure the odds are good that at least THREE of them are doing bad chinese or filipino impressions with funny accents as well.

"Why you make fun my speak, heh? You want me show you Kung Fu?"

I just consider myself the Yang to their Singh.

Now that I think about it though, it's probably not a smart idea to be posting a joke that might offend the people who invented Karma.

Crisis Management

One of the more popular sayings I keep hearing nowadays goes like this:

"They say 30 is the new 20."

Popular, if you're 29 (like me) or if you're in your 30's.

But then, no one is saying that 40 is the new 30.

One day you're the new 29, the next you're checking a whole new box in one of those age group demographic surveys in magazines.

====

That, for me, was one of the surest signs of aging. After years of checking the 18-25 box, I found myself checking the 26 to 35 box. I was like: "Holy Crap! I'm in another age group now."

Kinda sucks doesn't it? (Well, not if you're 35, I imagine)

====

I'm just about over my quarter life crisis, which started after my adolescent crisis phase.

(I'd call it my awkward phase but after 20 years of awkwardness, It's probably safe to say that it's NOT a phase...)

====

Quarter life crisis. How convenient of them to invent something that could tide me over till my midlife crisis..

Except... you don't usually get to have a midlife crisis until your late 30s. So there's a gap. A crisis-less span of time which the angst ridden spawn of Eddie Vedder, Alannis and Kurt Cobain have no artificially induced pain to cling to.

Until some brilliant sociologist, or socialite, just declares "30 is the new 20" giving us another set of quarter life crisis years.

(To be fair, they considered inventing a "3/8ths life crisis" but the math was just over their heads.)

This insult to your intelligence was brought to you by...

I recently discovered that companies can now pay some of our local gag shows to spoof their ads or products.

Which initially disappointed me because it tends to cheapen the whole thrill one gets when an ad you like gets a nice send up.

But on the other hand, I must admit it's brilliant! Charging companies who want you to ridicule them.

It's the dream business.

It's like that nazi soup kitchen on Seinfeld where people line up in droves to get berated by an unruly, sadistic cook who, quite frankly, probably isn't all that on the cooking side of things.

Heck, Triumph the Insult Comic Dog from Conan O Brien made a whole name for himself out of this whole schtick. Only in America can a cheap looking sock puppet that probably costs less than a Happy Meal become a pop culture icon by talking about poop.

I for one wouldn't mind getting paid to make fun of other people. Who wouldn't?

And not just ads and companies. How about politicians, celebrities... hell, I'd take total strangers!

Imagine clocking in a work in the morning and attending these huge brainstorming sessions where we figure out new ways to insult our clients.

"Are we good on the SMC humiliating?"

"I think they haven't signed their C.E."

"What? Draw up their account. We can't be mocking these prehistoric morons for free."

"Sir, you just called our highest paying client prehistoric morons."

"Dammit. OK, that one's on me. But next time, we bill them..."

Why I'm Single (a clue)

There's this barrista at one of the Starbucks' (starbuckses?) I frequent who I find kinda cute.

So I figure... maybe I should ask her out for coffee sometime?

Shopping Spree

Basketball fans may have heard of this one... it's actually old news.

Recently, NBA star Latrell Sprewell of the Minnesota Timberwolves was complaining that he wasn't getting paid enough. OK, we all get that. Despite the astronomical salaries of these players, there are some understandable instances wherein they are allowed to say they are underpaid. (More on this in the future)

But get this, the multi-millionaire who stands to earn $14.6 million goes on to say "I got my family to feed."

I'm sure this raises a lot of questions about Sprewell but what I'd really like to know is: Where is he buying his food?

You've gotta wonder... that must be one heck of a grocery store.

Something to think about.

There I was, sitting in my car , stuck in traffic, when I thought:

Does Bill Gates, probably the richest man in the world, pick his own nose... or does he have servants do it for him?

Maybe even robot servants at that...

If only actual reality were like reality TV.

I mean, I'm a "joe bachelor"... where are the 30 hot girls trying to win me over and being scandalously offensive towards my moral upbringing?

I'd like to get 25,000 dollars for every time I accidentally eat insects or rat body parts from cheap fast food joints.

Maybe I could have a panel of American Idol judges around for every decision I have to make:

-- Randy: "That parking space is ayt dawg. A little far from the entrace, but you can walk the walk."
-- Paula: "You know I am a huge, huge fan of your driving. That parking space is perfect. You are perfect. The whole world is filled with pretty rainbows, pretty colored butterflies and sugar coated lollipops."
-- Simon: "The problem with that Parking Space is it's NOT a smart space. Only an idiot would park that far. It is dreadful. You are dreadful. I am gay."

It would be cool if more queer guys had as their purpose in life to drive around giving us free clothes, free haircuts, free food, free furniture and free tips on how to score with chicks (although, really... how credible is the source for that last one?) everytime we have a dinner to go to, or a speech to make, or even just for that all important trip to the Automated Teller Machine.

In real life, how would a straight guy really react to five, flamboyantly gay strangers suddenly barging into his house and rifling through his underwear and porn collection?

I probably wouldn't mind Paris Hilton living with my family for a few weeks. (Although Nicole Richie can go take a road trip...)

I'd also like to be able to vote off every person in my life who gives me grief. And my dentist too while I'm at it. A couple of weeks from now, our company is having a beach outing. One of my officemates and I figure this might be a good opportunity to thin the herd...

-- "Cynthia from marketing, the tribe has spoken. You Are the weakest link. You're Fired."

Then we'd see the exit interview as the credits roll by.

And yet I have time for this!?

I have this book on Time Management for Creative People.

I bought it at a book shop in Hong Kong three years ago,

It's blue, about the size of a small pocketbook and is roughly half as thick as a VHS tape.



Sadly, I haven't found the time to read it.

I would have (found time, that is) if I had only read the book.

But I haven't.


It's a vicious cycle.

If Looks Could Kill...

Flipping through the channels as I got ready for work this morning, I chanced upon this groundbreaking news story.

Vicky Belo wants to open a Beauty Hospital.

Yes, that's right.

Now, I'm sure the good people at the Belo group do good work. But what intrigues me is this:

Are we really that ugly that we now need full time medical care for our looks?

How ugly does a person have to be to be rushed to a hospital for it?

Caller: "911... my girlfriend... oh my god. help us.. she's... she's"

911: "Sir, calm down. tell me what's wrong."

Caller: "She has.. has... a pimple! Oh God!"

Caller: "OK, don't do anything. Our paramedics are on their way."

Would these paramedics arrive carrying first aid kits... or make up kits?

I would love to see the E.R. at one of these places -- If only to see what constitutes a Beauty Emergency.

This opens up a lot of moral and philosophical questions that will ellicit heated debates from all sectors of society.
Questions like:

-- Can a person call in sick from work because she's flat chested?

-- Or would a note saying "Please excuse my son from class today. His skin is dry." be considered valid?

-- And lastly, would a man with a face that looks like the scrotum of 94 year old Rhino with a fungal infection and nostrils that look like 110 Volt power outlets qualify to park in the handicap spot?

I'm telling you, if they are truly dedicated to their mission... I'd better not see any fat and ugly Filipinos by the year 2025.

I, sheep

Well, I finally did it.

I opened a blog account.

The ego trip status-symbol du jour.

Actually, the phrase "du jour" itself seems to be the phrase du jour nowadays.

For the uninitiated, du jour sort of refers to the trend "of the moment".

Think: "What's in", "What's hot" , "Coffee of the day" or "The it-thing."
All terms which mean the same thing but are soooo 5 minutes ago.

Like Friendster. I suppose. (Yesterday's ego trip du jour.)

I'll probably wear out that term if I keep using it.

Du jour du jour du jour....

Blog- which I've learned is a shortened nickname for web log-actually seems like a bad sound effect to me.

"It was late and McKenzie was typing away at his web journal. Lost in his thoughts, our hero failed to sense the sinister figure approach him from behind. Blog! When McKenzie awoke, he was in a dark cramped compartment. Perhaps the trunk of a moving automobile. He could hear the speed bumps as his captors raced through the city."

"Ka-blog. Ka-blog. Ka-blog."

Here's something else this late bloomer discovered: Blogs have been around for years! So if you were blogging as early as 1985 or whenever it was that this thing was invented, you are not sheep. You might even be considered pioneers.

Much like a person wearing tie dyed shirts and listening to Usher in the mid 1800s.

I, on the other hand, jumped on this bandwagon just as blogs were already everywhere. Doing my bit to clog up the information superhighway (information superhighway-buzzword du jour circa 1997) with more traffic.

Now, don't get me wrong. Blogs can be useful.

Distinguished journalists and some of today's greatest minds use blogs to share their deep insights and eye opening perspectives with the web surfing public.

However, it also provides an avenue for the not-so-great minds to spew their self indulgent garbage for all the world to see.

Case in point: Me.

What did I do to earn the right to broadcast my random drivel? I had an email address- Now the only pre-requisite for owning a soap box or pulpit.

I wish getting a loan approval was this easy.

You realize this means that if the late, great Andy Warhol were around today, and he made that 15 minutes crack, it wouldn't be so impressive.

AW: "In the future, everyone will be famous for 15 minutes."

US: "Shut up you over-moussed freak."

Then again, if he were around today. He wouldn't even bother to say it. He'd just post it on his blog.

A lot of people use blogs as online diaries. Which, while very respectful, begs the question: Wasn't there a time when diaries weren't meant to be read by other folks? Still, it is always nice to keep a journal of your personal thoughts or views. And there really is nothing wrong with opening it up for all the world to see.

Except if you're a complete moron. In which case it's better to keep your inane ravings to yourself. (*mandatory comeback: author should take his own advice)

But hey, that's technology for you. To embrace it is to use it for both great things, and for trivial affairs of the self.

To be sure, I am in no way discouraging my fellow bloggers (for one thing, it's a little late in the game to be a self righteous prick... not to mention hypocritical)

However I would like to point out that we are all just a few letters removed from "boogers"

So here I am. Wasting MY time so that someday (should you chance upon this entry) I could waste yours as well.