Creampuffs.

Last night was on heck of a reunion. Reg helped me accomplish Rep Phils' souvenir booklet which is due today. Thank God I finished Reg's souvenir program on the nick of time: 6:40am today. I played my long time favorite sport. Proven by time that it's in my nature, I crammed all the way till morning. I slept every 15 – 30 minutes the whole night. For every other interval, I tried finishing the program. Ten minutes before leaving the house, I burned the CD and gave it to Ate Ging who delivered the CD to Reg’s house.

Tennis was yet another obstacle. There were only five of us. Kim wasn’t there because she wanted to postpone her last day – at least that’s what Tony Boy predicted. The rounds were hastened and so were our pulses and sweat machines. Eek. I was so sleepy due to the cramming session that had just transpired. Jazzy pinched me but that wasn’t enough. She hit me with her racket, too. Slapping my face, I tried to remain conscious (nye). The first half was all about hitting air and slapping all over. When Coach started to coach me, I did at least what I thought was right. With my left thumb sprained, all my strokes were inevitably destined to miss the ball. The second half, God thankfully turned the tables over and inside out. Tiger look, bent stance, weird full swing plus Han’s big eyed stare were enough to make me deliver the ball across the court. By the time 9am struck, even Coach was tired and lazy to give us our proper cool downs. We had only one round of court cleaning and one round of walking around it. Ardo and I went home and stayed home for a while. Nemo was a great substitute for a wall. =D We hung out at Starbucks till 1pm. Eyelash tickling and doodling were fun. haha.

world peace

Since I bought Tita Kay’s cream puffs, I had to go to their house to deliver it. Duh. My eyes were already heavily drooping when I arrived. Mami didn’t want me to go home alone. She insisted that I’d stay and ask my parents to fetch me or something. My bed, which I have long detested, was floating in my mind, inviting me to sleep. I really wanted to go home. Just to avoid letting the sleepiness in, I rummaged through Mami’s pictures. She gave me three packs of photos. Most were pictures of Papa Lolo, my grand father. Mami told me about his death, the “big ugly ang kapal ng muka ng babaeng yon” kabit, high school, other relatives, my mom and her brothers, oh and guess what – love. She told me she had to show the world that she’s strong by not crying when Papa Lolo died. Truly, Mama Chata (papa lolo’s mother) admired Mami for that. She talked about the big ugly fag-gy concubine. “Sabi ko sa kanya, ang kapal din ng mukha mo pumunta dito, sabay tulak sa kanya palabas ng pinto. HAHAHA.” I never thought Mami’s like that. She married early – a few months after college and work – 22 years old. Even though her sisters didn’t like Papa Lolo so much, she still married him. In Papa Lolo’s side, he supported his family that’s why they didn’t want hi m to marry her. He told his family that he’s not going to marry anyone but her. After telling stories embedded in other stories, she showed me more pictures. I saw myself when I was only a year and a half. I was eating, as usual, at that time when Mama gave birth to Trina. Think FAT. Think PIG.

fat pig eating some junk food.

the fat pig, see? 

i tried mami's shoes on.

trying out mami's shoes. 

mami and me

mami and me 

Maggie wanted to play cards. Sure, why not? We played gin rummy – that was my first time. A 6 or 7 year old girl taught me how to play cards. Amazing. After losing, I decided to lose some more. We played Memory. I got 9 pairs while she conquered the whole game with 17. Sorry na. After that, we played Doctor-doctor. She was the doctor and I’m the slumbersome patient. She tried every apparatus available – even the trumpet, recorder, castanets and maracas (my make up kit.haha.). Mami saved me from the prekindergarten game. We went upstairs to talk and talk. She also gave me her piggy bank, saying, “Gusto mo ba ng alkansiya? Yung may sentimental value ah! Matagal ko na tong tinatago. Medyo nasira na nga pero okay pa siya.” Then, she reached in her cabinet to get a black box. It was like a mini chest. It’s made of some rusted metal that looked like leather. It had two dial locks on the sides and one switch at the middle. She put new coins of every denomination. They’re supposed to be lucky. I later learned that the coin box was hers since she was five. Thanks Mami. J

Ate Ging and I commuted home. While waiting for a tricycle outside the townhouse, a driver offered us a ride until the gate. I hesitated at first but it turned out that he was a good guy. (whew.) The first paid ride was in a cramped up jeep. The guy who sat beside me had uber da bakod bad odor. The guy in front of him looked like his friend. They fooled around; their looks were so scary that I averted my eyes from them to my bag. The humidity inside made me even sleepier. Isipin mo nasa isang mabahong oven ka. The next jeep was fresh but even creepier. The guy wearing a blue Penshoppe shirt, aqua blue shoes and a brown necklace plus a sea green bag was staring at me. He stared like there’s no tomorrow, like his eyeballs would pop if he didn’t gawk at me. I tried using the one line eye thing (my eyes would be a line’s width) but it didn’t work. It only made me feel like snoozing some more; so, I enlarged them – big enough to catch all the dust Commonwealth had to offer. When I caught him googling, he raised his eyebrows then backed them down again. What the hell was that supposed to mean? Okay, back to those one-lined eyes. We bought Nicki his chicken mcdo then rode home. A good bath welcomed me home. Whoo.

Telebabad came afterwards. Talked with Ardo (sorry for waiting haha) and Mae (all about Tennis, college and ooh, our birthday.) There were a lot of interruptions that’s why I’m now stuck with writing this lengthy entry. Speaking of blogging, I found someone copying. Hey, did you know that plagiarism is illegal? It may be relieving to know that through these entries I can help people. It may also be nauseating to know that some unknown person is copying what my brain cells worked their nucleii upon. Please respect and learn to value intellectual property rights. It’s for your own good, promise. Copying isn’t only the perfect statement of admitting that you, beyond doubt, are a loser; but it is also a paragon of self denial. Stop it or I’ll stop you.

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