Mechanics of Re-Giving

Did you get lots of gifts?

Is it just me or did gift giving nowadays go back to the time when it is really the THOUGHT that counts. Really, I noticed that it doesn't matter what anybody gives you, but getting one is enough. Maybe it's because of my age and the people I hang out with. But you see, I still got some expensive crap but all I thought about was, "I'm so thankful you remembered me".

I got the most useless stuff and still all I could think about was, "Is this really mine? How thoughtful of you!". I got candies, I got jackstones, I even got a used deodorant, but still the feeling of getting a gift, warms my heart. Don't get me wrong, all of them are awesome! It's just that even if I got a severed foot inside a Christmas stocking, I would've still felt the same way; happy to be remembered.

I was told that people tend to bring extra gifts when they go to parties so that nobody would be offended if they didn't get any. Well then bring it on! I will be the recipient of these fabulous, below P50, made in China trinkets! This way of thinking should be the norm of all gift givers from now on.

I hate recycling gifts. I think that when someone gives you a gift, you should either keep it or throw it away a few days after. Re-giving a given gift is just plain unethical. If there was a Constitution on gift giving, this would be right after the Preamble.

Article 1, Section 1 of the Constitution on Gift Giving states:

"Any object or monetary equivalent, given to a GIVEE by a GIVER, shall become the property of the GIVEE but is not subject to be re-given as a gift to another GIVEE."

But there are times when you really have to re-give a gift, I know. You scour old boxes and moth balled infused cabinets, looking for that unopened box of handkerchiefs or a really quirky mug. When you get this urge, always remember, if it was useless to you, what makes you think it would be useful to whoever gets it?

7eleven is just around the corner, and they are up to their word. They truly are open 24 hours a day and 7 days a week. Buy a card. Write down a sweet message. He or she would love it. If you're a bit generous, put some money in it. Everybody likes money instead of a Spiderman tie. If you want to be funny, put coins in it then draw a pig on the envelope with a message, "Let me start you off". You are reading this blog so therefore I believe that you are smart and imaginative. (You're either smart or bored. Either way you're reading it.). Let's put some THOUGHT on all our gifts, so that it truly will be the thought that counts.

Hungry Like The Wolf part 2

I've been running these past few weeks. I owe this fitness fanaticism to my nephew and his "gift of music".The day he started drumming on my belly while I was asleep was the day I started to take exercising seriously.

I've been running before. I've joined in on some fun runs and mock marathons. I mostly walk the whole 5k stretch, but I finish it nonetheless. The effect of being an occasional runner is that, you don't really invest on a set of "gear".

The first thing I did when I decided to run was to equip myself with the needed tools to at least look good with this newly realized endeavor. First things first, I needed rubber shoes, which I have. I own a pair of white Nike running shoes with red lining. "Awesome", I said to myself. Then, I would need a dri-fit top. I had one! A white and blue singlet I got from one of my occasional fun runs. "Sassy", I thought to myself. Then I would need shorts, comfortable ones. My brother owns a pair of black with green lining dri-fit shorts. "This will do", I said.

All set, I placed all the gear in a bag and went on my way. When I got there, I hurriedly put on my gear and psyched myself. What I didn't realize is that I kind of grew quite a lot since the last time that I went on a fun run. The singlet was too tight. The shorts were about 4 inches above my knee. One more thing, I got black socks instead of white. I looked like a COLOR BLIND PREGNANT 15 YEAR OLD WHO SUDDENLY GREW 200% IN 5 MINUTES. I looked horrible. But I can't do anything about it now. My determination was overpowering my humiliation. So I still ran.

Let me take you back for a moment here, sometime when I was in 1st grade. We really didn't have much back then. Everything I got was either a worn out hand me down or made out of cardboard. That goes for rubber shoes too. So I was very careful in using them. The effect was that I never learned to run properly. This is the way I run; elbows close to hips, shoulders up, knees close to each other, and for some reason, my upper body is slightly bent forward (what the hell right?!).

My forehead seem to produce 500% perspiration more than any of my other body parts. It seems to generate more water than my mouth. As I ran, sweat dripped from my forehead to my eyes, blinding me with salty perspiration. So more often that not, I was wiping sweat off my eyes.

For some reason, I wanted to run to 80's music. I was running to the music of "Hungry Like The Wolf"! When I ran that day, considering the way that I run and the amount of forehead sweat that I produce, I looked like THE 5th LITTLE PIG WHO WENT WEE WEE WEE ALL THE WAY HOME. It wasn't as awesome as I imagined it to be. It wasn't "Hungry Like the Wolf" video material. It was more like "Sweating Like a Pig"!

I ran for about 20 minutes until I couldn't open my eyes anymore so I had to stop. I may have been asked if I was okay by more people than I expected. My eyes were all red as I changed gear and went home. I lost more of my dignity than calories that day. Talk about an epic fail!

The Wolf won't be letting a setback like that from achieving the washboard abs I've always dreamed of. The Wolf is still Hungry, time to gear up again and run!

Hungry Like The Wolf part 1

I've started running recently. I thought I should get fit. But this realization didn't just dawn on me without a cataclysmic turning point.

I may be the laziest sum'bitch in the world when it comes to working out. I can come up with the most lame excuses to get out of a little exercise. There's the "I'll start tomorrow excuse". I also have the "I just won't eat a lot today" excuse. The lamest I have is the "I broke a little perspiration when I climbed that flight of stairs so I think I'm okay" excuse. I suck when it comes to working out. I cut it short. I walk more than I run then I walk short distances. I TOTALLY SUCK!

I never really cared how my body looked like. I THOUGHT I had an absolutely adorable personality that whatever I looked like wouldn't matter. I didn't care about the aesthetics of my physical self (that's what you call loving oneself too much!). I'm one of those kids that were convinced by UGLY people that "beauty is in the inside".

The turning point was about 2 weeks ago. My nephew, when he doesn't have classes, usually stay at my room when he wakes up to watch morning cartoons. He does this before I wake up and it really doesn't bother me. I kind of like it. 

One morning, I was woken up by an unusual feeling around my belly area. It was rhythmic. Half awake I was hearing Spongebob Squarepants in the background. As I gathered my wits, I realized what was happening. My nephew was using my belly as drums as he sings to the opening song of Spongebob. He was actually doing really well and the bass from the taps on my belly added depth to the already upbeat sound of Spongebob's song.

Who lives in a pineapple under the sea?
Bum, Bum, Bum, Bum

Spongebob, Squarepants!
Bum, Bum, BumBumBum!

I was horrified! You see, when any part of your body makes a sound that mimics any musical instrument, you should do something about it, immediately. The same day I got my "gear" together and I said to myself, "As good as it sounds, this is no way to make good music." That day I started running.

To be continued...

Holiday Extravaganza

This is what we do during Christmas Eve. We wait for 12 midnight to eat as much food as we can. We then follow that up with lots of beer. Then we clean up at around 4-5 AM. Then by some twisted and sadistic holiday tradition that was instilled upon us, WE WAKE UP AT 7AM!

It has been a tradition in our family to eat breakfast together. Then right after breakfast, the drinking commences again. In between we eat about every hour. And these aren't just nibbles, these are large portions of whatever. We have been conditioned by our parents that Christmas day is synonymous to binge eating. Well whatever, I love it.

You know how families have their traditions during holidays? It's usually getting together and eating. Then there are the updates and all that stuff that they are going to forget as soon as they leave the family extravaganza. Those questions that they asked you, they'll ask again next year.

How are you? How are your sisters? How's your mom? How's your dad? Do you still go to school? Have you had your period yet? WHAT THE HELL UNCLE! For the 8th time today, I'm a boy!!! So stop touching me there (bad joke... ).

It actually becomes a routine. And I HATE ROUTINE!

This year I'm going to spice things up. I'm almost 30 and I think am entitled to one get-together which won't be the same salutations and goodbyes. Here's a list of what I'll be doing.

If someone hands me money as a gift, I'll say,"is this all?"

I'll ask my grandmother for my inheritance as this year's Christmas gift.

I'll eat pasta with my hands.

I'll give empty boxes as gifts and if someone asks I'll act as if someone stole them.

If someone asks me the usual questions I'll give him or her a P100.00 without explaining why.

I'll wear war paint. Green and Red.

I'll make an Audio Video Presentation about this blog and show it to them during dinner.

I'll whip them up some of my space cakes to make this holiday seem like forever.

I'll literally deck the halls with Bo and Holly. (my cousins...)

I'll back mask Santa Claus is Coming to Town and play it with exaggerated enthusiasm.

I'll invite homeless people to watch us eat.

Actually, my point is, let's make every get together memorable. We only get to do it once a year and who knows how many we have left. What if the Mayans are right? Happy Holidays! 

Note to self: I am not Bad Ass!

I'm not Bad Ass!

This is a realization that I had to learn early in my life.

 I can't even grow a beard to save my life. I can grow patches of beard though. Even if I shave them at the same time, they just seem to grow at their own rate. It's like small grass lands growing on a pink and pasty desert. It doesn't look good I tell you.

Me, growing a beard...

Besides having the physique of a pregnant 15 year old, and a hairline high enough to place a 3rd, 4th, 5th and 6th eye on my forehead, I am bad with confrontations. I may have only been in one real fight in my life. And I've always believed that winning is in the mind (keep telling that to yourself lame ass!), but my SISTER was big back then. She was one tough cookie. She would drive me into floor faster than I could say, "I'm not about to fight a girl". She had a freaky long reach and she shouts a lot.

One time we had this fight when we were kids. I don't remember what it was about, but the pain and suffering was as if she kicked my ass yesterday. I was holding a broomstick to defend myself. I needed a weapon to stop those long arms from separating my head from my neck. I was driven to a wall and then fell on all fours. Then she sat on me. She kept calling me a homo. I have nothing against homosexuals to make it clear. Most of the people I love and respect nowadays are proud gay men and women. For some reason, she called me gay. I don't know if it's because I play with dolls or look fabulous in our mom's high heels but she COERCED me into admitting that I was gay. As I was being pummeled and humiliated on the hardwood floor, I had time to think. My sister seems to be passionate about me being gay. She seems to think that I AM gay. Well then... maybe I am! Okay, let's just say I am. MY SISTER KICKED MY ASS SO HARD SHE CONVINCED ME I'M GAY! OMG!

Years passed and through the years she kept calling me a homo, gay, a fairy, anything she can come up with. I didn't care. I thought to myself, so what? I am gay. The family still loves me. There's nothing wrong with being gay. Then one day in High School, I found out the MECHANICS of being gay! "Oh my god", I said. I was so anxious to get home. I couldn't keep myself from moving around. I was so restless.

Then I got home. I ran towards the gate. I opened the door as fast as I could. I literally flew to get up the stairs. I almost broke her door when I opened it. There she was sitting on her bed reading a magazine. Then I shouted to her, "NO I'M NOT YOU BITCH!"

Then she sat on me and coerced me to say that I am gay.

Smoking and Faith

I used to think that blogging was a way to feel superior. You can't blame me for thinking that way. You're reading mine now and I'm not reading yours. You're giving me a portion of your precious time without me asking for it. Tell me if that doesn't boost your ego if you were on the writing side of this delicate and developing relationship.

A friend of mine changed my mind. Thanks retard!

On to my chosen topic...

I've been smoking for more than 10 years now and I've been wanting to quit for the longest time. You see, despite not having to grow up with a typical family, I developed into quite a principled bloke. I often channel these principles into wrong situations, but they are principles nonetheless.

The reason why I can't quit smoking is because I hate giving up. I still believe that there is something good I can get out of this. I think of smoking as the most misunderstood and totally the underdog among all of the vices there is. You have alcohol, which in moderation they say is good for you. You also have drugs (MJ's, E's, K's, A's, the whole alphabet if that's you get off that way...), which open your creative mind and oftentimes the catalyst for some of the most beautiful art and music there is. There is also sex, I will not even begin to state how good that is physically and psychologically. But with smoking, everything you hear is bad. It stinks, it ruins the appetite, it's the leading cause of most of the illnesses that kill us today.

I'm not losing hope though. Someday, someone will find out the true essence of smoking. Plus, there is this rumor that if you've been smoking for more than 10 years, stopping won't prevent you from getting the illnesses that smoking brings. So I'm in for the vigil. Let's find the virtue that will justify why the cigarette was invented. Even the dynamite was intended to be used to uplift the human condition. Why not cigarettes?

I read this during my last trip to Macau,

"Half the vices which the world condemns most loudly have seeds of good in them and require moderate use than total abstinence."

This quote just suddenly jumped to the top of my favorite quotes list! The artwork was done by a man totally obsessed with smoking.

Later, this cigarette won't smoke itself.