takes two to tango

Rest in peace, Francis M.

A few days ago, President Obama signed the American Recovery and Reinvestment Act for 2009.

Filipino WWII veterans and their service during the war are going to be compensated with a lump-sum depending on their citizenship. To some this will be an additional benefit, specially Scouts who have long been receiving benefits from the US. For others, this will be the first time they will receive anything from the US government, because they were either POWs (Prisoners Of War) during the time the US government asked for a list of active soldiers at the end of the war, or because of they were incapacitated and could not report after, or because they were Filipino citizens, or because their papers were lost, burnt, flooded, stolen--you name it.

I've heard my share of stories of how some veterans find it unfair that they were launched and fought side by side with American soldiers, yet were not given compensation for it. I have even heard that some have even survived the Bataan Death March, yet are only given less than a fourth of lower-ranked soldiers were given just because those lower ranked soldiers were able to submit their names while they waited in camp.

But those are stories of long ago. And sadly, many of these veterans have already died. One of them, being my grandfather. Ah, the stories my mom would tell about him...

But today's story is all about the chaos that ensued at the US Embassy. There were no classes today. Pres. Arroyo declared February 25 a holiday, but moved it to the 23rd instead so as not to disrupt the work week.

So we decided to hie on over to the US Embassy to file MommyLa's claim since she's an American citizen and she served as a military nurse during the war. Her rank was 2nd Lt.


We left the house at around 6:15am and arrived at the US Embassy at around 6:45am. The place was already packed with people! Mostly the veterans who had to stay under a huge tent outside because the embassy's waiting area inside the court couldn't accommodate the number of people.


There was a line of people on wheelchairs and all the seats were taken. So MommyLa was pointed to a spot where some veterans were beside the tent. She didn't have to stand long anyway because the 4th row of veterans were called inside and MommyLa's group took over.

As the minutes turned to hours, more and more veterans arrived. Most of the male veterans wore their uniform's hats, or some vest signifying that they were veterans. A few wore their own funky fashion--leather jackets, pink Chuck Taylors, or Hawaiian polo shirts to name a few. A few really made the effort to come in full uniform. Early comers had huge smiles on their faces as they walked in line going inside the building. Many, in their show of pride for being recognized continued to talk as if they were still in active duty. The ones who were still able to walk trudged dutifully and cheerfully. The ones in wheelchairs tried to show people that they were still able to move their limbs but stretching and jabbing their arms.


I couldn't help but admire all of these men and women and many times I teared up when I saw veterans who could barely walk or was being carried by a family member to the line. Because it was a holiday, the embassy didn't expect the number of people who showed up. There were sooo many who had to be held up as they waited for a wheelchair.

I was horrified at seeing some people carry huge metal oxygen tanks in their borrowed wheelchairs. I couldn't help but cry out when I saw a veteran being carried while he was seated in a plastic chair by a boy who had to be only 5'2 and about 16 years old. His skin was gray and flaky. Like it was already decomposing...

Filipinos and Americans from the embassy went to check on the old man and declared that he still has a pulse. So they rushed him inside to get his thumbprint and his picture.

People from the embassy were all very courteous to the old folks. This was in spite of the fact that people were rushing in from another temporary claim area, because they were all told to head to the US Embassy after the temporary area reached their quota. Unfortunately some of them were trying to convince the old folks to come back like another time because the filing of claims would last until February 2010. What they didn't understand was that a lot of these old folks and their families wanted to go immediately because they weren't sure if they were gonna live very long or even until the next day. The rules said that only the widows of veterans who filed a claim could collect. So there was a small rally earlier of widows and their families who have been waiting since 1946 for any sort of compensation. Just to have their husbands die a few weeks short of the signing of the Recovery Act... Sad really...

You'd hear personal stories left and right. You'd smell the mix of Ben Gay, white flower, green oil, Omega painkiller, oldness, mustiness...

MommyLa was able to get in the waiting area inside the embassy courtyard at past 2:00pm. She was also able to finally get out at 3:15pm. Every single one of the veterans and their accompanying family members or friends were told to keep the paper claim they were given and not to have it photocopied. Because some unscrupulous people could use it to claim the benefit instead if they're not careful..

So we'll just have to wait until they say that the money can be claimed or until they say that there are changes to the Act once more...

She looked so chic
in her striped top and tight jeans
Her hair pulled back neatly
her face nice and clean
The guy beside her
is probly her new boyfriend
'Cause he keeps staring
and gazing at her to no end
He really musta felt
like a million bucks
As he held her smooth arm
with bracelets full of rocks
The way she sat down
reminded me of a glide
And she charmingly smiled
when their friend arrived
But her hushed tones
quite took me by surprise
It's like I had to do a double take
'Cept not with my eyes
'Cause the more she talked,
(promise, I'm not trying to be rude)
The more she sounded like a dude!

I couldn't really tell
from her graceful silhouette
But I noticed her shoulders
were about as wide as you could get!
You probly couldn't tell
if you saw her at first glance
But those straight legs and lack of hips
weren't just by chance!
Her hands and sandaled feet
weren't even big, just a bit square
But I couldn't tell either
if I saw an adam's apple there
As the three of them left
I guess I'll just keep guessing
I just wonder what the guy will find
when they start undressing...

I haven't said this
in quite a while
But some girls' tiny voices
really ain't my style.
I find it grating
and painful to the ear
When I hear normal-sized people
force their voices to sound queer.
For some this sounds mean
and really quite biased
But I can't help it when groups of them compete
to see who laughs the highest.
Maybe some of them
were born with that kind of voice box
But it's no longer cute
when girls force if like they've got squeezed c*cks.
Isn't it difficult
to keep up the cute charade?
When I hear you
I feel like cutting someone with a blade.
I didn't come here to listen
to you act cutie patootie
But if your office mate wasn't gay
he'd leave you like you've got cooties.
I don't think any client would take you seriously
If they heard you now, they'd pull their business out immediately.
That tacky tight suit and voice like a apower puff girl
would be just enough to make anyone hurl.
Maybe you should stick to trying to look professional
The squeaky voice and your business suit just makes you look mental.

I just read this--IMHO--hilarious and eye-opening article in The Philippine Star. It's called Sex Coach by Tony Montemayor.

First off, I thought it totally sounded like it was written by a dad. HAHAHAHA!!!

The author puts himself in the shoes of fathers who might be coming up with the "birds and the bees" talk with their daughters. The funny thing is, he uses sports analogies--particularly those from basketball--to give dads pointers on how to do "the talk".

Even if I didn't really see my dad as a basketball enthusiast when he was alive, (in fact, I didn't know he could even play until my 6th Grade Family Sports Fest), I can't picture him using sports to sort out his conversations with my sisters and I.

Maybe Sun Tzu's Art of War, but not sports...

I don't think my parents ever gave me or my sisters that talk, though. Nope... And I won't go telling you all how I learned. You can ask me when you see me. XD

Going back, though, Mr. Montemayor mentioned in his article that parents can give the initial birds and bees talk when the kids are between 4 to 8 years old. Then the responsibilities, values, and consequences parts when they're 11 to 13 years old.

Yeah... Just about right... If you're the type who'd talk to your kids or younger kids who grew up with you.

Well, that part of the article reminded me of what happened to me few weeks ago. I brought my 9 year old nephew with me to watch The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants 2--he wanted to go watch a movie with me and this so happened to be the one I wanted to watch.

It's a PG-13 or Parental Guidance-13. That means for kids below 13, they have to be accompanied by an adult.

Okay... So he watched a bit, but I wasn't really sure if he was even paying attention. He watches all sorts of DVDs at home, so I pretty much knew that he understood what he was watching.

Then comes the scene after Amber Tamblyn's character, Tibby, finally gave up her virginity to Leonardo Nam's character, Brian (who surprisingly has a nice set of abs).

The scene in the movie theater sort of goes like this...

Brian (towel around his waist) tells Tibby (nekkid under the blanket) that it broke.

"T'gwads, what broke?"
"The condom. Shhh."

Tibby is in shock and can't believe asks if the condom is even real. Brian tells her that his uncle gave it to him for his graduation two years ago.

"What's a condo?"
Someone at the back of our seat giggles.
"A condommm. It's what a guy wears so the girl won't get pregnant."

Tibby can't believe that it would wear out like that when she claims that those things last so long in land fills.

"What does it look like?"
Someone half chokes, half snorts from somewhere around us.
"Uhm, like a balloon."

Tibby feels lost and doesn't know what to do. Brian doesn't know how to tell her to relax.

"How do you wear it?"
Again, the choke-snort.
"Shhh! Just watch the movie!"

Tibby gets her stuff and leaves the apartment and goes through scene after scene of seeing people with babies.

Silence...

The rest you can watch.
I never did get to explain after. Not even up to this minute... Oh well... I guess the time will happen on its own...

Although I do doubt I'll have to explain soon.

Link
This is from my baby's blog about our week together when I went to LA.
It was everything and more than what I wanted.

Thank you baby for everything. I love you!

Face it. We all judge people based on their looks. Many of us make it a comfortable pastime as we sip coffee or eat at our favorite restaurant. And don't deny it, we are vicious and bitchy at times when appearances fall short a meter or two from "typical" or "pleasingly ordinary".

A show on TLC actually makes people come face-to-face with one of their worst nightmares: they are not what they think they look like.

10 Years Younger invite people who are still in denial to step into a soundproof display case in the middle of the two most appearance-driven cities in the world--Los Angeles and New York City. The host randomly asks complete strangers to critique the participant's looks and guess his/her age. In the studio afterwards, the participant hears the heartbreaking revelation from the strangers' comments and their guesses about the age. (Hey, I know all too well how heartbreaking it is). This is where a team of stylists (fashion, hair, and makeup), doctors, and dentists, endeavor to make the participant look at least a decade younger in a matter of ten days.

After this, the participant once again subjects him or herself under the vicious criticisms of strangers after a grueling week of trying to look and feel younger. In order to grab a mediocre form of happiness from comments about themselves looking somewhat closer to their real age or even younger.

The upkeep and maintenance must be hell.

But I find myself wondering how our Chinese genes faltered on me, somewhat, these past few months. I no longer fool the majority of people who once "carded" me or figured me to be at least 5 years younger than my real age.

I'm supposed to be on my vacation now, and I'm wondering how those age-multipliers creeped up on me... Was it stress from my thesis? (Although, I definitely feel like someone from those Stresstabs commercials). Or is it some other bizarre occurrence that happens nightly without me knowing--aliens? (I shudder).

Although, this hasn't really been an isolated incident. It's happened even when I was younger. I hadn't tapped into those Chinese genes of ours then. So, it was a shock to me when complete strangers and even friends who saw pictures of me just the year before (even just a month before I left), told me that I look older.

What has this vacation done to me?!

Sigh... All I know is that I'm looking forward to getting a haircut once I get back to the Philippines. That'll at least help take some of the years off...

Ok, back to my afternoon siesta.

I know it's been a while since my last blog.

Yes, yes. So, I'm going to do a Simon Cowell:


"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."


Believe me, rather difficult to find an interesting pic of Simon Cowell, aside from his "man boobs" picture in 2006. He looks the same in all his pictures!


Enough about him.


I woke up feeling rather uncomfortable. This morning is the third(?) day of my period. I've always been a rather sound sleeper. I rarely budge anymore than an inch or two as soon as I get knocked out and head for La La land. It's the same even when I have my period. Then again, early in the morning when eggs feel like dying on me some more, you get that feeling that's something's not right.


I give a frantic look to my side and there it is:


Spots of my womanhood on my otherwise immaculately clean bed--rumpled sheets aside (to quote romance novels).


So much for having any of those advertised Overnight Longs. I'd be better off using adult diapers (believe me, after seeing my grandmother's "thins" supply--which she refuses to use--I'm beginning to wonder).

"Why, oh why, oh whyyyy can't I find Tampax® Pearl or even o.b.® tampons and just have a panty liner as a backup?"

It's a pain to try finding a tampon anywhere in the Philippines. o.b.® tampons used to be easily available in Watson's and in Mercury Drug stores. Now I can't find them anywhere--tampons, I mean, not the stores, silly.

One reason I've heard time and again as to why it isn't popular here in this mainly Catholic country is that: "You lose your virginity."

Gee... Next thing you know, they'll be saying that you can grow back your hymen.

Oh wait, surgery can do that. But still!!!

OK, it's not like I can't use a regular or über thins pad with wings. It's just the inconvenience of worry about spots of womanhood ruining my otherwise glamorous outfit.

Not only that, but--here comes the crux of the matter--I can't wear a swim suit using a pad! You mean to tell me, I'll go out and tan myself and whoops! I've got wings!

My mom was taking delight at my dilemma and told me to go and color the wings on my pad to match my suit. Egad... That's my mom's evil humor for ya.

I refuse to think that I will not be able to find any tampons. So yes, I'll be heading out today or tomorrow just to go hunting. And yes, it'll be my fourth(?) day, but who cares? I'll be on a mission!

March 3, 2008
Eavesdropping.
You can't help it specially when voices are so distinct and loud.
You can't help it either if someone's wearing something or not wearing anything and they're in plain sight.
I mean, they're practically screaming, "LOOK AT ME!!!"

That's what I found myself doing while chatting online with my baby.
I couldn't help it!!! My eyes were actually following a guy I thought I recognized. He moved to a seat diagonally across me with his back to me. Hmm... But that's another story. What caught my eye was the guy on his right....

The guy was in a polo shirt. He had a buzz cut and a backpack on the floor by his chair. He looked like any guy who was getting ready to go back to work.

He was in my line of sight--and so were the pictures of hot looking guys on a website. He was even posting comments on the pictures of young men with yummy abs, hot arses, and droolworthy faces.
Oh my... It kinda bothered me--and not in a good way.

I couldn't help but sneak glances at the scorching hot pictures he was checking out. Hmmm... I guess if you wanna see and weep over the hot bodies he was checking out here ya GO!GO!GO! Relax, it's free. Hehehe. I know you're dying to see.

March 9, 2008

Something about eavesdropping really makes an for an interesting pastime when you're in a net cafe.

I was emailing my aunt, when a guy sat beside me. Decent, baldie, actually pretty ordinary looking, although I might not give him a second look. He didn't even bother to check his mail, or other niceties, but he did check his friendster for a bit. Then he spent a good 45 minutes or so checking out a gay site.

Ahhh. The joys of anonymity.