Sex and the Pity

A gluttonous day ago, I found myself smashing into the videoke machine of high school classmate Lorinel with Badfinger’s Without You. It was her 11-month-old nephew’s birthday, as we altogether asked why the party a month before. Ralph mentioned that commemorating one’s year of living way ahead of the actual date, superstition says, will just the same make his deathday earlier. The hostess just shrugged off, “We’re going back to Italy in a week, and we wanted to celebrate it here. Besides, they’re Americans.”

When latecomer Tracy showed up, we directed to the deserted dining room and watched her nibble her lunch. Bored and full, Ralph brought out his DVD containing the Kat-Hay scandals– as what Joey de Leon calls them in his column– and made a show. I purchased it from a vending passer-by with only 80 bucks instead of a hundred, he leered. How do you even manage, I thought.

Lend Me Your Fears

We all have phobias. I myself am guilty of my occasional fear (and disgust) on rats. But Pikachu is an exception.

• Astraphobia – Fear of thunder and lightning. I actually was traumatized when I was a kid; what happened was I climbed upstairs in our room to get back my toys in a middle of a storm. When I was about to exit, a purple crack sparked on both my sides. I didn’t know what the hell just happened.
• Nosocomephobia – Fear of hospitals. When I was in third grade, I was diagnosed with H-fever, making me to skip classes for almost a quarter. I almost died, or at least I believed I did. And then last year, my dad was entered into the ICU. I hate hospitals. And death.
• Autodysomophobia - Fear that one has a vile odor. Rude much? Nah, I just don’t want my self to stench especially if I just bathed, ye know. I think this is normal.

Jessica Zafra Superstar

To save my self from imploding– thanks to the dreadful LSS of Billie Jean (yes! As in Michael Jackson!); I mean of all songs?! Last week, I had Careless Whisper, attributed to the overrated Hayden Kho scandals, who’s punishing me this way?!– I grabbed Twisted 8 from my clutter. The book was sitting there for about a semester now since I borrowed it from Lara. The moment I read it again yesterday, I fell in love… again. It wasn’t easy for me to let go of it.

As you might have known, the Twisted series is more of creative non-fiction. Conjoined columns of the author Jessica Zafra, hailed from the now-defunct Today. I have the sixth and seventh– the latter missing for about a year now. If you’ve lent one of which before, I assume you have seen the sign I inscribed: “Thou shall not steal this, or else…” It was supposed to kid, threaten and creep you out. Whichever works. As for the eighth which I will then return to the owner on June, it was the most recent, published 2007. Incredibly witty as usual, here are the most notable quotes amongst the columns/blog posts selected for the book:

Only Selfish Love

After terrible years of dispassion had I only learned a new thing about My Self: I AM VAIN. Narcissistic. Egocentric. Conceited. Swollen-headed. Self-absorbed. Self-centered. Self-loving– (I could go on, you know). I am a Venezuelan, so to speak.

It suffers a certain amount of humility though to accept this… this, this… fact (you see what I mean?). I am vain. The evidences are clear…

1. I like my name, and proclaim its profoundness. It’s the URL of this site and mostly my accounts are named after my, uhh, name.

2. I see a mirror and stare at it for not less than two seconds. Technically, that’s too long especially since a tinted window of a car in a car park could only take so much. I’m glad it doesn’t shatter to pieces, or that no one’s behind it broadcasting my hideous facial expressions in a gag show.