One drink too many

I have very poor and unhappy brains for drinking: I could well wish courtesy would invent some other custom of entertainment. - William Shakespeare



Tina asked where I was. I thought it was a funny thing to ask considering that she almost always knew where I was. And vice versa. Having been recently orphaned by friends who left one after the other to build their fortunes in various parts of the Western hemisphere, we promised to always stick with each other. As if I did not, pre-exodus. Heck, we went as far as going to the custom jeweler to help her choose the wedding rings, eh? Well, JP surely gave her the details of how he wanted the bands to look, but hey, this is, like, major stuff. Right, Bloggie?

Anyway, she reminded me that I was supposed to be with her in a couple of hours to watch some movie. I didn’t recall ever knowing about the movie…translation: she needed company.

I didn’t remember what we watched. Was it that mediocre? As we were walking out of the cinema, Tina received a text message from Nelson asking where we were blah blah blah. Tina turned to me and pleaded for more of my time as Nelson could really use some company. I could see where this was heading, but knowing fully well what Nelson was going through, I called home to say I’d be staying with Tina and would be back the following day.

We fetched him at Padi’s Point. He was alone, as usual. He looked fine to me. The food was a major bummer so we decided to pack up and head to Salo instead.

The place was almost deserted except for the couple at the far end of the bar. Nelson ordered a bottle of tequila. I said I wanted loads of vegetable sticks. So we got both. And Tina’s octopus. I was expecting a highly charged atmosphere but it was not coming. What? After downing the bottle? Nelson signaled something to the server who promptly went away after being given some instructions. He came back after a couple of minutes to deliver another bottle. I was keeping tabs. I was going for my 12th shot. Oh gosh. I started to feel a burning sensation in my throat. Plus it was getting so hot. Oh my gosh. Just then TY, Nelson’s brother, came in and joined us. He immediately worked us into a bantering mode. I barely managed a weak smile while I thought Tina was getting more hyper by the minute. I downed my 13th - quite foreboding, I must add. I brought my head up, looked at Tina across the table and saw her with three pairs of eyes.

I thought Nelson saw the signs. I told him I couldn’t stand up. I felt my body getting numb and weightless. Plus, everything was spinning in slow motion. TY sent for coffee for Tina and myself but I was clearly so out of it already. Nelson stood up. He had to drag me to the restroom.

I was failing – and falling – miserably. I couldn’t even expel a dot of carrot stick no matter how I tried. I would not poke my finger down my throat, the way bulimics do, if my life depended on it. Then, without warning, it happened. In no time, the sink was clogged with orange, green and white sludge. Think bird’s nest soup, Bloggie. Yikes!!! I really thought the onslaught would add my intestines into the mix as a fitting garnish. It was sickening. But it didn’t stop there.

Strapped at the backseat, I was still throwing up in the car. The last thing I remember doing was plunking my wasted carcass into the sofa and passing out faster than you could say forty winks.

I recall wanting to be really, really drunk since I first tasted of alcohol. Who wouldn’t want to be when your first was a bottle of dom perignon my guy friend in high school stashed into his bag for the after-prom party in their home’s attic? He eventually came out of the closet. That must explain his fine taste at an early age. Don’t you think so, Bloggie?

So. That was how being totally, absolutely soused was all about. At least for me. I didn’t even plan it. And, by golly, I found out only after three decades? Tell me, Bloggie, is it worse for others?

One last thing. There’s something I have disproven. You should not believe it when people say they don’t know what they’re doing when they’re drunk and that they don’t remember what happened. It’s all bull. They know it. How else could I spill all this to you, Bloggie? Or was my sottishness ain’t enough???

Whatever. I am just so thankful I was with friends. Lesson well learned.


p.s.

Bloggie, the lady jeweler makes really nice rings! Hmmm…as if! Well, at least I learned some nifty things about wedding bands from the gracious lady. ;->

The business of being cheery

‘If you haven’t confirmed your flight information yet, please hold on. We are in the final stages of gaining approvals from the Philippine government. I just want to make sure hat when you need to leave you have all the approvals. We are sitting tight. This has been a frustrating process…’

That’s the latest word from Big 4.

This waiting game is really frustrating. I am thinking: if not for the signed employment contract, Big 4 might have withdrawn their offer pronto as the POEA hubbub unraveled.

And what about my friends? I remember feeling so downcast when a good friend teased me unceasingly and, as a final blow, said, ‘aalis ka pa ba?’. I mean we’re not even close! Now, before they tire of asking me whatever the h*ll is happening to me, I told them to just stop asking and wait for my call/sms/email. That’s a joke. But, admittedly, it was the essence of my last message. Now, I am making myself scarce save for a handful of girl friends. You see, Bloggie, I’m kinda tired of explaining my case.

I am happy most times, but there’s just this day when I cannot stop myself from thinking if I really made the right choice, if there’s more to the delay than just merely waiting for POEA’s action, if Big 4 actually withdraws its offer (the horrors!), if I really know where I’m going… I can actually poison my brain with more depressing thoughts.

That’s why I have to stop. I’m sitting tight, yes, for more time than I care to count. I don't have to understand everything everytime. I know in the deepest corner of my heart that I am all right. That’s why I’m happy.

I'll always be Happy! :)


the light of a cheerful heart

i tell you that you and I and the commonest
person are all journeying the same way,
hemmed in by the same narrow path,
leading to the eternal years.

we pride ourselves over our particular superiority;
but really there is little difference between us;
and in this journey over the thousand hills and
valleys called life, he is wisest who is
patient where the way is hard, has faith when
he does not understand, and carries into the
dark places the light of a cheerful heart.

Bringing the house down

One cool Saturday evening…

‘…walang pakiramdam ang mga magulang,’ I heard Grannie say as I got myself seated to her left.
‘Ano yun?’ I asked earnestly. I turned to my left and pinched Twixie’s plump cheeks.
‘Si Grannie, nanlalait na naman ng contestant,’ Ria said, smiling conspiratorially with Grannie.
I looked at the tv and saw this show, Pinoy Pop Superstar, hosted by Regine Velazquez, a.k.a. Asian Songbird, being shown.
‘Alam namang walang kagaling-galing ang anak, pinasasali pa. Kaya daw, di naman. Niloloko nila anak nilang walaaaaanggggg ka- talent-talent! Tingnan mo, ginatungan pa ng mga kamag-anak. Naku, dinadamay pa tayo sa lokohan!’ Grannie said, very seriously.
The monologue elicited a round of laughter. It didn’t end there.
‘Pati si Pop ay kita mong di natutuwa sa batang iyan,’ said the self-appointed critic.
‘Pop?’ everyone on the table echoed.
‘Aba, di ba si Pinoy Pop ang host?’ Grannie asked, looking at me, as if asking for a way out.

*****

We were furiously attacking banana fritters. I was cutting portions for Twixie, but I could sense Grannie was watching us. Then…
‘Tingnan mo nga si Bae,’ Grannie said.
‘Ha? Bakit po?’ I asked, not sure what she was driving at.
‘Papa pa ang pinapatawag sa ama ni Janjan. “Punta ka sa papa.” Naku, hindi ko mapigilang tumawa,’ she said. Janjan is Bae’s kid.
‘Grannie…’ I said as I shook my head, instantly aware where the conversation was going.
‘Nung araw, Inang at Amba ang tawag namin sa aming mga magulang. Pag nanay at tatay, aba, mayaman na yun. Bigatin na,’ she continued.
‘Mga Bicolano, Grannie, papa ang tawag nila, kahit ano…’ Nanay said, matter-of-factly.
‘Tsaka Grannie, kelan pa yung panahon nyo? Muntik mo na yata maabutan first world war eh,’ I said.
‘Grannie, sa amin babalik ang pagpuna mo, sige ka,’ Meng warned. Oh gosh.
‘Hayaan nyo na sila. Mukhang ok na nga si Janjan. Mataba, singkit pa. Chinese, hehehe,’ I added, looking Grannie’s way hopefully.
‘Naku, manglo ang batang yun!’ Grannie boomed.
All of them began laughing hysterically. I, on the other hand, started to laugh because the word sounded very funny to me. I didn’t know what the word meant.
‘Whaddaheck is ‘manglo’,Meng?’ Ms. Almost Always Clueless asked helplessly. They were practically beet red from laughing. I wanna be like them!
‘Tabang hangin,’ Nanay barely managed to say.
Heavens!

*****

The laughter subsided a bit. We looked at Twixie who seemed to be loving the fritters to bits. She was applauding fitfully, looking menacingly at the bit-size portions I piled on her plate. It was time for another lesson.
‘Twixie, say “delicioso!”. Try?’ I prodded, trying to demonstrate how to execute the act. Meg and Bianchi had perfected this lesson, eh?
The kid just kept on nodding her head, smiling widely as she willed her tiny fingers to mimic my hand. A few more attempts and all we heard were incoherent ramblings at best. I gave her A-plus for effort.
‘Tama na, baby. Bata ka pa, pressured na,’ I said as I lightly pinched her cheeks.
Then, Grannie craned her neck to see Twixie more clearly.
‘Twixie, sige nga. Say “malicioso!”. Twixie, go. “Malicioso!” Grannie coaxed the poor kid. Twixie gave her a puzzled look only a toddler her age could muster.
We almost fell off the chair.