ngorkkkkzzzz

i am going to mindanao next week. freaking hell.

i am! pikon

over sunday's dinner mom was talking about her cousin's funeral she attended earlier that day. while she was babbling about our relatives, something caught my attention. according to her, days before her cousin passed away, he went to isabela to look for a daughter he hasnt seen in 30 years. they reunited alright.but here's the chismis part:

"what if ur long lost pa came to us in dying mode noh?" asked this mother of mine.

"oo nga...," chirped my sister.

"duh.for all we know he's lying at the bottom of the ocean.probably became a coral na.haha.asa pa kayo."

of course that could only come out from my big bad mouth.

****
that sunday morning was surreal for me.woke up by the sound of my mom's shrieking phone. and because she's gone out to church, i didnt have the choice but to answer the call.

after a brief and groggy hello, the caller said

"hellooooowwww?si dr. barrozo itohhhhh...."

at the back of my mind, i was thinking, doctor who?did she just say dr. barrozo? is she introducing herself as dr. barrozo (because i dont remember having a relative who is a doctor) or is she asking for a doctor barrozo? (because again, i dont remember having a fucking relative who is a doctor)...so i said,

"uhmmm...sino po ulit?" then she said,

"ahhh.... si tita ***** mo itohhhhhh...pakisabi sa mama mo namatay si uncle mo *****, may mass mamayang hapon sa bahay ng 1pm."

taena kung tatawag ka sa kamag-anak mo, dont fucking address yourself with your fucking academic shit. haiblad na haiblad talaga ako!naku. and! it didnt end there, because when they met at the funeral, she kept referring to her kids with their degrees. like,

"magbabakasyon nga ako sa amerika next week eh..."

my mom: "ay talaga? sino naman ang kasama mo?"

the aunt: "si attorney (her eldest) at si maestra (her youngest)."

when mom was telling us this over dinner, i couldnt help but kid my mom,

"eh di sana sabi mo, 'naku, nagbabalak din pumunta ng san fo (san fernando, LU, not san francisco, CA) sina animator (my sister) at si sociologist eh (that's me kuno) ngayung holy week eh.'"

nyahaha.laban ka?

mahirap talaga maging pikon.hay.

one helluva week!

at last the national rice r&d conference is over!makakahinga na ako.whew.i did not present a paper or a poster this year, but i sure had a "moment" again.during the plenary session one scientist asked about how we came up with income estimates in our paper.i wasnt paying attention; i was seated at the back of some 500 people so when kuya sai requested me on stage to answer the damned question, it took me awhile to get hold of the mic, sabay hirit "what's the question again?" nyahaha. halatang hindi nakikinig!


****
i survived the blood compact with cofi.yehey.beware.mas mabangis na dugo ko ngaun.

***
couple of days ago, my friend was telling me how she'd make herself imbisibol at ym so she can monitor that someone. i just laughed it off.lam mo bang you can trace your ym buddies with this? even if they're imbisibol?wahaha.kala mo ha. which made me think of other stealth modes that suspicious creatures make when monitoring their girlfriends/boyfriends:

1. locator service by sms providers

this one was used on me.sabi niya, "let me enrol you to my locator service so id know if your safe.." syempre ang lola mo kinilig!nag-yes sa prompt ng smart. later on... "sabi mo ur in mnla how come d locator says ur in davao?!" si ako: "glitch lang yan sa smart ya know..." sabay palit ng sim card!haha.

2. the use of friends

friends play several roles in the monitoring process:

2.1 as report officers -- si ikaw, "ui, how was the gimik last nyt?sabi ni SO (significant other) u went to this and that place daw..Ü" the friend: "huh?im sick kaya." nakow, patay kang bata ka!

2.2 as baits during loyalty checks -- pag bago pa lang kayo ni SO, you'd want to check if he's really sincere with you. thus the use of friends. si ikaw: "friend, text mo nman si SO ko.landiin mo ha?tingnan natin kung ano reaction.." eh nagkataon na type ni friend si SO? friend at the back of her mind, "mwahahahalets parteeeeeeehh!"

3. loyalty checks are also done by the suspicious girlfriends/boyfriends themselves:

they'd use another number to flirt their SOs.pag sinungitan sila, they grin from ear to ear.proof that their SOs are loyal to them.pero pag nag-flirt back si SO, naku lagot na! lalo na pag ganito text:

"seb?"

and because its women's month...

... i cant help but talk about women stuff.not the boring kind, like crocheting and cross-stitching and baking (that's too domestic for me, sorry); rather, indulge me about some things that
i, as a woman (id like to think so, hah!) encountered. like what the feminist group EBa in UP Baguio says, ang buhay ng bawat babae ay isang engkwentro.

so let me tell you about the encounters iv had had:

1. i lived with a grandmother who was Fred Flintstones' neighbor. yeah, yeah, she was a die- hard stone-age old lady.she expected me to be prim and proper, to be meek and mild, to wear skirts and sit in a corner furiously crocheting. when i was in high school, she openly showed her discontent when i would invite my friends over who suffered asphyxiation when they cant laugh their lungs out.she even had this idea that girls should never go to boy's houses and vice versa.so imagine her horror when conrad started to frequent the house! i enjoy provoking my dear old grandmother. i mean, dont get me wrong. i would have a different mother if not for her and i wudnt want that, but c'mon man. *sighs* you get my drift now? and she should thank me every time i exercise her bloodstream to go really high. di ba there's this theory na if you've been exposed to the same kind of stress, it would make your system immune?she never suffered from hypertension during those times. plamis. when i got out of the house during college and after that, she had hypertension attacks every now and then. see?


2. during college, i was oriented with feminist ideas. they say you have three degrees of feminism. (disclaimer: i am may not use socially acceptable, politically correct terms here, ok? these are just products of my delusions during college.my own interpretation.)

• feminists who think they are not getting as much human rights as men enjoy. they think women are better off than men. if you were to talk to this kind of fem, shed say, "dapat mas maging angat ang mga kababaihan sa lahat ng bagay!mga lalaki ipis lang sila!panis kayo meyn!" whew.
  
• feminists who think that there is discrimination in this world, whether against them or against men. they fight for their rights alongside those of men. they dont want to antagonize their men, lest they refuse to give them their sperms.mwaha.
  
• feminists who believe that men are dim wits and have no place in the world.they have the cruel world syndrome, like what my deviant sociology taught me.they see men as chauvinist pigs who should be eliminated in the face of the earth.they dont need men, period. imagine this scenario: me: "so pano yan, wala kang boylet?ganun?" her: "hindi ko sila kailangan!gusto ko kami-kami lang." taray ng lola mo!

3. sometimes the society cant help but treat women as vulnerable, like some crystal vase that should be protected always. there are several manifestations of this:

• male friends who offer to carry your bag, books, groceries and even laundry when your walking with them. i mean, salamat pare but i can handle it pa naman ok? ill call for help when i need to haul that sack of rice or that shellane to my 3rd floor apartment.and yes, i find men cute when they're sweating like there's an invisible scented shower following them around.haha.
• men who offer seats at crowded buses. when i was in high school i get furious when i get to stand in the bus while men are sitting comfortably in their seats. all that changed in college and when i started commuting in manila.again, i say thank you for the offer but! it was my fault i went back to sleep after my alarm tried to wake me up, my fault when i had to shower for too long, and my fault when i had to change my clothes three times because i thought the colors didn't match.ayan tuloy naabutan ko ang rush hour sa bus.so you see?for all i know you had to skip breakfast and run like hell just to get a seat on that bus, only to give it to someone who was late because she was vain. nasaan ang katarungan don? nasaaaaaannn???
  
• men who offer to pay everything when going out. pamasahe sa dyip, movie tickets, burger meal at mcdo.i mean, pareho lang nman siguro kayong sumusweldo na di ba?wag naman masyadong user friendly kapatid!i love men who let me pay for dinners and movies.yun lang.im not filthy rich; just that i dont mind spending money for friends.im not conscious about getting my wallet fat with cash.id rather spend it for coffee and have a good talk with friends in return.

4. sexual harassment. im not claiming i have a body like mrs. pitt, but yeah, there were instances where men made sexual innuendos toward me. i remember during first year college, i sat with a maniac in a victory bus on the way to baguio. i was in the window seat so i was an easy prey.the experience taught me to always choose aisle seats when commuting. when i started work in manila, there was a guy who masturbated in front of me on a jeepney. horror talaga! buti na lang few weeks before that happened, my manila grown officemates advised me not to show emotion in front of exhibitionists. i remember what they told me, "wag kang magpapakita ng takot at lalong wag kang maglalaway!" yes mam!yes sir! haha. i love my officemates dearly.

5. peer pressure on 20something single women like me. disclaimer again: i am not the kind of "kami-kami" feminists, ok? that's not the reason why i remain single after college. its just that... i have a jinx in relationships i guess.but what irritates me is when people make comments like "mag-asawa ka na! you're not getting any younger!" marriage at 25? owkamon meyn. i was almost married off when i was 18 and i dont want any of that yet. besides, i dont mind being single. im happy with the friends i have. hindi lang dapat lalaki ang basehan ng kaligayahan ng mga kababaihan. rakenrol!

6. girly/kikay stuff. i dont like kikay stuff.period.but subscribing to non-girlie stuff doesnt make you a tomboy ok?i have my own definition of femininity.


to cap things off, id like to share an excerpt of Eve Ensler's Vagina Monologues:

Let's just start with the word “vagina.” It sounds like an infection at best, maybe a medical instrument: “Hurry, Nurse, bring me the vagina.” “Vagina.” “Vagina.” Doesn't matter how many times you say it, it never sounds like a word you want to say. It's a totally ridiculous, completely unsexy word. If you use it during sex, trying to be politically correct-“Darling, could you stroke my vagina?”-you kill the act right there.

I'm worried about vaginas, what we call them and don't call them.

In Great Neck, they call it a pussycat. A woman there told me that her mother used to tell her, “Don't wear panties underneath your pajamas, dear; you need to air out your pussycat.” In Westchester they called it a pooki, in New Jersey a twat. There's “powderbox,” “derrière,” a “poochi,” a “poopi,” a “peepe,” a “poopelu,” a “poonani,” a “pal” and a “piche,” “toadie,” “dee dee,” “nishi,” “dignity,” “monkey box,” “coochi snorcher,” “cooter,” “labbe,” “Gladys Siegelman,” “VA,” “wee wee,” “horsespot,” “nappy dugout,” “mongo,” a “pajama,” “fannyboo,” “mushmellow,” a “ghoulie,” “possible,” “tamale,” “tottita,” “Connie,” a “Mimi” in Miami, “split knish” in Philadelphia, and “schmende” in the Bronx. I am worried about vaginas.

You cannot love a vagina unless you love hair. Many people do not love hair. My first and only husband hated hair. He said it was cluttered and dirty. He made me shave my vagina. It looked puffy and exposed and like a little girl. This excited him. When he made love to me, my vagina felt the way a beard must feel. It felt good to rub it, and painful. Like scratching a mosquito bite. It felt like it was on fire. There were screaming red bumps. I refused to shave it again. Then my husband had an affair. When we went to marital therapy, he said he screwed around because I wouldn't please him sexually. I wouldn't shave my vagina. The therapist had a thick German accent and gasped between sentences to show her empathy. She asked me why I didn't want to please my husband. I told her I thought it was weird. I felt little when my hair was gone down there, and I couldn't help talking in a baby voice, and the skin got irritated and even calamine lotion wouldn't help it. She told me marriage was a compromise. I asked her if shaving my vagina would stop him from screwing around. I asked her if she'd had many cases like this before. She said that questions diluted the process. I needed to jump in. She was sure it was a good beginning.

This time, when we got home, he got to shave my vagina. It was like a therapy bonus prize. He clipped it a few times, and there was a little blood in the bathtub. He didn't even notice it, 'cause he was so happy shaving me. Then, later, when my husband was pressing against me, I could feel his spiky sharpness sticking into me, my naked puffy vagina. There was no protection. There was no fluff.

I realized then that hair is there for a reason-it's the leaf around the flower, the lawn around the house. You have to love hair in order to love the vagina. You can't pick the parts you want. And besides, my husband never stopped screwing around.

I asked all the women I interviewed the same questions and then I picked my favorite answers. Although I must tell you, I've never heard an answer I didn't love. I asked women:

“If your vagina got dressed, what would it wear?”

A beret.
A leather jacket.
Silk stockings.
Mink.
A pink boa.
A male tuxedo.
Jeans.
Something formfitting.
Emeralds.
An evening gown.
Sequins.
Armani only.
A tutu.
See-through black underwear.
A taffeta ball gown.
Something machine washable.
Costume eye mask.
Purple velvet pajamas.
Angora.
A red bow.
Ermine and pearls.
A large hat full of flowers.
A leopard hat.
A silk kimono.
Sweatpants.
A tattoo.
An electrical shock device to keep unwanted strangers away.
High heels.
Lace and combat boots.
Purple feathers and twigs and shells.
Cotton.
A pinafore.
A bikini.
A slicker.

***
saw this from my brod's site:



HAPPY WOMEN'S MONTH EVERYONE!

randomness v.2

i just had an overdose of coffee today.the coffeeshop here in philrice is offering their drinks at 50% discount.asteeg.i had a mocha frap at P40 while their flavored cappuccino is at P20 only.wish ko lang hindi ako dilat magdamag.


***
9.31pm at the ofis.am with ate rhem and marco doing overtime.suddenly,
marco: "pareng kat, pakinggan mo 2!"

sayang, bakit hindi kta niligawan
ngyon akoy nanghihinayang kasi naman,
tatanga-tanga pa ako, noon
walang humpay na paghintay
sa hindi dumarating na pagkakataon

lagi nman ktang nakakasama
ewan ko kung bakit ba walang akong nagagawa
kahit na npakadali mong kausapin,
ewan ko ba kung bakit ang hirap paring aminin

mdalas nman tyong naglolokohan
dinadaan ko nlang sa biro ang 2nay kong nraramdaman
kaya cguro hindi mo cneryoso
aking mga cnabi,un 2loy walang nangyari

kakalipas lmang ng isang sem
ng mkita kita na mayroong ibang ksama,
magkahawak ang inyong mga kmay
ang dibdib ko ay sumikip ang pglunok ko ay naipit
aking napatunayan na nasa huli ang pagsisisi
para bng gus2 kong umiyak ngunit para sa ano pa
wala nmang mgagawa

magaling.magaling.ukinnana.

and because he is marco, he is unstoppable. he felt like he was some disc jock and played emo songs for the next 10 years. in between songs, he blurted, "pards hindi mo ba alam na ikinakahiya ka niya?"

taena. *wailing*

***
buti na lang happy wikend ko. :D went to baguio last weekend for the panagbenga. i really enjoyed the time i had wid my mom and sis. ngaun lang ulit kami nkapag-bonding kaya enjoy talaga!








***
countdown to rabid days: 4. if cofi is still alive by saturday, null and void na ang blood compact namin.mwa.mwaha.mwahahahahahahahahahaha.

happy women's month!

March is Women's Month! In celebration of this, id like to share this poem by joi barrios.

TO BE A WOMAN IS TO LIVE AT A TIME OF WAR

To be a woman
Is to live at a time of war.

I grew up
with fear beside me,
uncertain of a future,
hinged to the men of my life;
father, brother,
husband, son.
I was afraid to be alone.

To be a mother
Is to look at poverty at its face.
For the cruelty of war
Lies not on heads that roll,
But tables always empty.
How does one look for food for the eldest
As a baby sucks at one’s breast?

No moment is without danger.
In one’s own home,
To speak, to defy
Is to challenge violence itself.
In the streets,
Walking at nightfall
Is to invite a stranger’s attack.
In my country
To fight against oppression
Is to lay down one’s life for the struggle.

I seek to know this war.
To be a woman is a never ceasing battle
To live and be free.