Monday, November 6, 2006
"I Guess Raquel Was Right All Along..."
It's so funny. Just a few months ago, I got this really awkward sms from one of the regulars in my inbox, and she said I gave off this Ross-from-Friends aura. Then I ran into this cool site. Just see for yourself. I guess she was right all along! Haha!
Thursday, July 13, 2006
"Hindi Ako Nagda-drugs!"
“Javier, Alexander Gunab!!!”
“Ma’am, present!”
“Jovellanos, Dennis Francisco!!!”
“Ma’am, present!”
“Khan, Derrick Alan Chua!!!”
“Jovellanos, Dennis Francisco!!!”
“Ma’am, present!”
“Khan, Derrick Alan Chua!!!”
“Present!”
“Leveriza, Alberto Tan!!!”
“Leveriza, Alberto Tan!!!”
“Present”
“Maderazo, William James!!!”
“Maderazo, William James!!!”
“Ma’am, present!”
“Magallanes, Carlo Alfonso Hizon!!!”
“Magallanes, Carlo Alfonso Hizon!!!”
“Ma’am, here!”
“MAGdamo, Arni AGAWIN!!!!!!!”
(snicker, snicker)
“MAGdamo, Arni AGAWIN!!!!!!!”
(snicker, snicker)
“MAGdamo, Arni AGAWIN!!!!!!!!!!!”
(Inulit na, nilakasan pa! Bwiseeeet!)
“Ma’am, present...” (Sabay yuko sa desk…)
I sometimes think about how my family got its name. I mean, I know all about the Spanish decree that forced our ancestors to choose from a list of suggested surnames posted on a board in the plaza to keep track of all Filipino citizens during the colonial years. We studied that in grade school Social Studies. And I know that’s the reason why most Filipinos have surnames that aren’t very much unlike those in Latin American countries, and even in Mother Spain. Of course, there were obvious favorites, often with references to our Christian (or rather Catholic as majority of Filipinos were and are right now) background, like dela Cruz (“of the cross”), delos Reyes (“of the kings”, apparently in reference to the three magi), de Dios (“of God”), del Rosario (“of the rosary”), Cruz (“cross”), Reyes (“king”), Santos (“saint”). Just flip open the PLDT directory and look for people surnamed Cruz. I’d bet the listing would run several pages. Filipinos back then, as they still are now, were prolly status-conscious, and bearing a Spanish surname somehow seemed to erase, at least in their eyes, the brown complexion of the Malay race. Some of them, my ancestors included, were born of interracial hanky-panky, some legitimate, others illicit. The fiercely patriotic Filipinos must've thought it best to go for distinctly Filipino-sounding names, usually chosen from words that were derived from among the many dialects that dotted the linguistic landscape of the islands. For instance, we have Magbanua (from a Visayan word, I think), Manalo (Tagalog, “to win”), and many others like Masilungan (“to provide shade”), Liwanag (“rays of light”) and Casunuran (if I’m not mistaken, it has something to do with “following” or something akin to that). Then, of course, we have the Chinese invasion by way of trade, which brought us surnames like Sy, Lee, Tee, Chan, Chiu (Kim, the object of many pubertal and adolescent guys’ fantasies…), Tan, Gan, Mah, Pang, Peng, Ping, Pong, Pung, Pa, Pe, Pi, Po, Pu… Basta. If it sounds like something only a bell could produce, (Ping!) or prolly lifted from one of them old Batman comic books (Bang!), bet your balls on it, the person prolly is of Chinese descent. Let’s not forget the Americans and their half-a-century’s worth of occupation of our islands. These pink conquerors from the land of WalMart, plus sizes, and Spam were also known for their fondness for everything exotic. Including women. I had classmates before with surnames like Brown, Smith (although I’m thinking Smith is more of Anglo-Saxon origin), Roberts and Anderson. And I used to envy them for their really cool names.
I used to hate my surname. Magdamo. Most Tagalogs pronounce it with the accent on the first syllable. MAG-damo. If you’re not from Luzon, you wouldn’t mind this mild butchering of my surname. But Magdamo, pronounced the Tagalog way, is unflattering. Damo is a Tagalog slang for weed. Or jute. Or marijuana. So MAGdamo could mean “to smoke marijuana.” Now, if you’re a child of the 60’s or the 70’s, that could actually be pretty cool. Flower power! Righteous! Kewlness! Awesome! Yeah, baby! But I’m a child of the 80’s and the 90’s. And I didn’t find (I still don’t… neither do my friends and family) smoking marijuana (or smoking for that matter) “kewl.” I’ve had to deal with a lot of teasing from my classmates and friends every time someone mispronounces my surname. It should be pronounced with the accent on the second syllable. Mag-DA-mo. As if that wasn’t bad enough, imagine having “Agawin” for a middle name. Agawin. Tagalog for “to take forcibly.” I think in the US, the middle name refers to the second name. But in our culture, the middle name is the mom’s maiden name. And my mom’s maiden name is as icky as my dad’s surname. Arni Agawin Magdamo. Eeeewwwwkkk. Blech. And the irony of it all is, my folks’ names have rather unflattering Tagalog connotations, but their families are from the Visayas and Mindanao regions. Weird.
I actually asked my paternal lola where the name Magdamo came from. But after finding out about the origin of our surname, I felt worse. Magdamo, according to Lola Titang, is an old Visayan word which means “to multiply.” My dad was born, and grew up, in the island province of Aklan. Yep, The Aklan. Boracay. But theirs is only a branch of a clan that originated from, and still calls as its home, Davao del Sur in Mindanao. Now, as the story goes, during the Spanish occupation, a fugitive wanted by the Spanish authorities for some unspecified crime, bore the old name of the clan, even though he wasn’t in any way related to our family. To protect the family against Spanish persecution, our ancestors opted to change our surname to “Magdamo” apparently as an allusion to the growing clan. To multiply. Syempre, I had to ask what our original surname was. And she said it was… Dyaran! Carpio. Carpio! CARPIO! Dammit! Why didn’t they just stick with Carpio?! I’m sure the Spanish weren’t all that bad. I mean, they married into the family for Pete’s sake! Arni Carpio. Now that sounds really nice.
Lola Titang, on the other hand, got stuck with Magdamo by choice. She wasn’t related by blood to the Magdamos. But she married my Lolo Badong, and the rest is history. She’s a Spanish beauty. All her sisters were: Dolores, Enriqueta (Lola Titang), Virginia and Raquel. My Lola Raquel (we called her Lola Baby Pig coz she had a pig pen with lots of piglets), we were told, used to bathe in milk. I dunno if it was just one of those old wives’ tales. And Lola Titang, when she was alive, washed her clothes with and bathed in Heno de Pravia. She always smelled so good. But she was extremely austere, and we feared her a lot especially when she was younger. She had distinctly Spanish features: aquiline nose, deep set eyes. My dad looked a lot like her, except for his chinky eyes which he got from my lolo's side which was peppered with a bit of Chinese. When my lola would argue with dad, they’d burst into a litany of mixed Aklanon and Spanish. Going through her side of our family tree, the names Gomez, Regalado, Altubar and Yturriaga pop out. Nice Spanish names. Helluva lot better than Magdamo. I wonder… Wouldn’t it be nice to change my surname back into one of our family’s older surnames? Hmmm…
(Inulit na, nilakasan pa! Bwiseeeet!)
“Ma’am, present...” (Sabay yuko sa desk…)
I sometimes think about how my family got its name. I mean, I know all about the Spanish decree that forced our ancestors to choose from a list of suggested surnames posted on a board in the plaza to keep track of all Filipino citizens during the colonial years. We studied that in grade school Social Studies. And I know that’s the reason why most Filipinos have surnames that aren’t very much unlike those in Latin American countries, and even in Mother Spain. Of course, there were obvious favorites, often with references to our Christian (or rather Catholic as majority of Filipinos were and are right now) background, like dela Cruz (“of the cross”), delos Reyes (“of the kings”, apparently in reference to the three magi), de Dios (“of God”), del Rosario (“of the rosary”), Cruz (“cross”), Reyes (“king”), Santos (“saint”). Just flip open the PLDT directory and look for people surnamed Cruz. I’d bet the listing would run several pages. Filipinos back then, as they still are now, were prolly status-conscious, and bearing a Spanish surname somehow seemed to erase, at least in their eyes, the brown complexion of the Malay race. Some of them, my ancestors included, were born of interracial hanky-panky, some legitimate, others illicit. The fiercely patriotic Filipinos must've thought it best to go for distinctly Filipino-sounding names, usually chosen from words that were derived from among the many dialects that dotted the linguistic landscape of the islands. For instance, we have Magbanua (from a Visayan word, I think), Manalo (Tagalog, “to win”), and many others like Masilungan (“to provide shade”), Liwanag (“rays of light”) and Casunuran (if I’m not mistaken, it has something to do with “following” or something akin to that). Then, of course, we have the Chinese invasion by way of trade, which brought us surnames like Sy, Lee, Tee, Chan, Chiu (Kim, the object of many pubertal and adolescent guys’ fantasies…), Tan, Gan, Mah, Pang, Peng, Ping, Pong, Pung, Pa, Pe, Pi, Po, Pu… Basta. If it sounds like something only a bell could produce, (Ping!) or prolly lifted from one of them old Batman comic books (Bang!), bet your balls on it, the person prolly is of Chinese descent. Let’s not forget the Americans and their half-a-century’s worth of occupation of our islands. These pink conquerors from the land of WalMart, plus sizes, and Spam were also known for their fondness for everything exotic. Including women. I had classmates before with surnames like Brown, Smith (although I’m thinking Smith is more of Anglo-Saxon origin), Roberts and Anderson. And I used to envy them for their really cool names.
I used to hate my surname. Magdamo. Most Tagalogs pronounce it with the accent on the first syllable. MAG-damo. If you’re not from Luzon, you wouldn’t mind this mild butchering of my surname. But Magdamo, pronounced the Tagalog way, is unflattering. Damo is a Tagalog slang for weed. Or jute. Or marijuana. So MAGdamo could mean “to smoke marijuana.” Now, if you’re a child of the 60’s or the 70’s, that could actually be pretty cool. Flower power! Righteous! Kewlness! Awesome! Yeah, baby! But I’m a child of the 80’s and the 90’s. And I didn’t find (I still don’t… neither do my friends and family) smoking marijuana (or smoking for that matter) “kewl.” I’ve had to deal with a lot of teasing from my classmates and friends every time someone mispronounces my surname. It should be pronounced with the accent on the second syllable. Mag-DA-mo. As if that wasn’t bad enough, imagine having “Agawin” for a middle name. Agawin. Tagalog for “to take forcibly.” I think in the US, the middle name refers to the second name. But in our culture, the middle name is the mom’s maiden name. And my mom’s maiden name is as icky as my dad’s surname. Arni Agawin Magdamo. Eeeewwwwkkk. Blech. And the irony of it all is, my folks’ names have rather unflattering Tagalog connotations, but their families are from the Visayas and Mindanao regions. Weird.
I actually asked my paternal lola where the name Magdamo came from. But after finding out about the origin of our surname, I felt worse. Magdamo, according to Lola Titang, is an old Visayan word which means “to multiply.” My dad was born, and grew up, in the island province of Aklan. Yep, The Aklan. Boracay. But theirs is only a branch of a clan that originated from, and still calls as its home, Davao del Sur in Mindanao. Now, as the story goes, during the Spanish occupation, a fugitive wanted by the Spanish authorities for some unspecified crime, bore the old name of the clan, even though he wasn’t in any way related to our family. To protect the family against Spanish persecution, our ancestors opted to change our surname to “Magdamo” apparently as an allusion to the growing clan. To multiply. Syempre, I had to ask what our original surname was. And she said it was… Dyaran! Carpio. Carpio! CARPIO! Dammit! Why didn’t they just stick with Carpio?! I’m sure the Spanish weren’t all that bad. I mean, they married into the family for Pete’s sake! Arni Carpio. Now that sounds really nice.
Lola Titang, on the other hand, got stuck with Magdamo by choice. She wasn’t related by blood to the Magdamos. But she married my Lolo Badong, and the rest is history. She’s a Spanish beauty. All her sisters were: Dolores, Enriqueta (Lola Titang), Virginia and Raquel. My Lola Raquel (we called her Lola Baby Pig coz she had a pig pen with lots of piglets), we were told, used to bathe in milk. I dunno if it was just one of those old wives’ tales. And Lola Titang, when she was alive, washed her clothes with and bathed in Heno de Pravia. She always smelled so good. But she was extremely austere, and we feared her a lot especially when she was younger. She had distinctly Spanish features: aquiline nose, deep set eyes. My dad looked a lot like her, except for his chinky eyes which he got from my lolo's side which was peppered with a bit of Chinese. When my lola would argue with dad, they’d burst into a litany of mixed Aklanon and Spanish. Going through her side of our family tree, the names Gomez, Regalado, Altubar and Yturriaga pop out. Nice Spanish names. Helluva lot better than Magdamo. I wonder… Wouldn’t it be nice to change my surname back into one of our family’s older surnames? Hmmm…
Arni Gomez <-- Now this one's nice
Arni Regalado <-- Okaaay! Kaso, it sounds like areglado.
Arni Altubar <-- Hmmm… pwede na! Plus, my name will always be on top of an alphabetized list.
Arni Yturriaga <-- Awesome! Only down side is, my name will end up last on the class list.
But my relatives, especially those from Davao, are rabidly loyal to the Magdamo surname. Who wouldn’t be? Despite the seemingly indecent Tagalog meaning of the surname, the uber talented and insanely (and I mean that in a good way) prodigious members of our family made Magdamo “sound” better, at least in the academic and music field. I got to experience this first-hand when I somehow ended up in Dumaguete a few months ago. When people found out I carry the surname, they immediately drowned me with stories about how Silliman University, one of the top universities in this country, was built with the Magdamos figuring prominently in its ascent to the top. My mom, although not really a Magdamo, as she only wedded into the family, I would like to think, is well-respected in her field, and she’s the dean now of a nursing school. Talk about academic. And it’s quite ironic that the surname I hated so much when I was younger turned out to be one of my tickets to where I am now. I mean, if it weren’t for it, I would have ended up practicing law, and prolly quite unhappy and disillusioned. When I went to my interview at the UP College of Medicine (for admission to the Intarmed program), I was fortunate enough to have as members of the panel doctors who knew my grand aunt, at least by reputation:
Panel: So, you’re Arni Magdamo… Are you in any way related to Priscilla Magdamo?
Me: Yes, sir. I haven’t met her personally, but she’s my grand aunt.
Panel: Really? She was with the UP College of Music before.
Me: Yes, sir, I’ve been told.
Panel: So, does that mean you also sing? She’s an excellent soprano.
Me: Sing, sir? Not even if my life depended on it. No, sir… I do sing, but only in the privacy of my shower.
Panel: Ahhh, that’s too bad. The Magdamos are a musical family. Do you play any musical instrument.
Me: Yes, sir.
Panel: What instrument do you play?
Me: The piano, since I was four. And also the violin and guitar.
Panel: Ahhh, Magdamo ka nga! (laughter)
Awww, I love being a Magdamo.
Me: Yes, sir. I haven’t met her personally, but she’s my grand aunt.
Panel: Really? She was with the UP College of Music before.
Me: Yes, sir, I’ve been told.
Panel: So, does that mean you also sing? She’s an excellent soprano.
Me: Sing, sir? Not even if my life depended on it. No, sir… I do sing, but only in the privacy of my shower.
Panel: Ahhh, that’s too bad. The Magdamos are a musical family. Do you play any musical instrument.
Me: Yes, sir.
Panel: What instrument do you play?
Me: The piano, since I was four. And also the violin and guitar.
Panel: Ahhh, Magdamo ka nga! (laughter)
Awww, I love being a Magdamo.
Tuesday, July 11, 2006
What's In A Name?
| Your Sexy Brazilian Name is: |
 |
It was 10:15am. While munching on my Apple Jacks in front of the TV, the phone rings (to the tune of Edelweiss… how cheesy can you get?), temporarily breaking the mid-morning silence (uh, not really, coz Martin Mystery was airing on the Disney Channel, and the Boogeyman was chasing after Java the Caveman and Diana Lombard as she made one of her trademark shrill, ear-splitting shrieks… but that’s another story). I lifted the handset:
Me: Hello?
Lady Caller: Good morning, sir! This is (insert girl’s name) from, (insert bank’s name). Can (sic) I talk to MISS Arni Magdamo?
Me: Huh? (drops the TV remote) Hang on a sec. (picks up the remote and the torn bits and pieces of my masculinity from the floor)
Me: I’m sorry. I might’ve misheard you. You were saying?
Lady Caller: Yes, sir. This is ______ from _________. I would like to talk to MISS Arni Magdamo if SHE’S there.
Me: Uhm, this is Dr. Magdamo.
Lady Caller: Yes, sir. Is MISS Magdamo at home?
Me: I’m sorry. You don’t get it. This is Arni Magdamo.
Lady Caller: (sounding confused) Ma’am? Uh, sir? Uh, MISS Magdamo?
Me: (pissed, and bewildered how such a pretty voice from a possibly pretty girl could have come from a head that’s obviously helium-filled) Listen, lady. It’s 10am. I just did a 48-hour at the hospital. I haven’t slept, I haven’t shaved, I haven’t taken a bath. I’m groggy, scruffy, filthy and hungry. And the only sugar I had that’s keeping my brain from short circuiting and preventing me from going to that God-forsaken and neuron-deficient place you’re calling me from and snapping your neck in two places was three-spoonfuls of Apple Jacks…
(Okay, I didn’t actually say that, although God knows how much I wanted to. But the Dr. Jekyll in me was much stronger than the Mr. Hyde hiding in my subconscious, so this is what I actually said):
Me: Ma’am, this is MISTER Arni Magdamo (at that point, I didn’t think mentioning the word “doctor” was gonna do me any good).
Lady Caller: I’m sorry, po, sir. Sir, I’m calling because (insert bank’s name) is celebrating its nth anniversary and you have been pre-selected to receive a prize of…
Me: (interrupting Anna Nicole Smith’s monologue) I’m sorry. I’m not interested.
Lady Caller: Sayang naman, sir… May I know…
Me: (interrupting Ethel Booba again in mid-sentence) I really am sorry. Try someone else. Bye. *click*
First of all, lemme just say that she started to get on my nerves when she asked if she COULD talk to me. I’m pretty sure she CAN. After all, she’s obviously got functional glottis, a tongue and a mouth. All speech-producing organs. But I’m quite certain that if I had my way, and if I were to betray my Jesuit education, I would’ve said “No, you MAY not!”
Secondly, I’m also positive that nobody, and I mean NOBODY, in the right frame of mind, with fully operational cerebral hemispheres, could mistake my deep, rich, baritone voice for a girl’s.
And finally, everyone knows that nobody should come between me and Disney Channel. That just ain’t right.
But Anna-slash-Booba-slash-Lady caller did have a point. “Arni” can easily be mistaken for a girl’s name. That wasn’t the first time that “Miss” came right before it. I dunno. Some people do find my name a bit whimsical. Prolly in the same league as Kitty, Lily, Dolly, Patty or Timmy. And my name’s been mutilated many times by people from all walks of life. I hafta say that the carcass I hate most would be the version “Arnie”. Yep, Arni with an extra “E”. It doesn’t sit well with me. Aside from having one too many vowels in it, and the “E” at the end doesn’t add much to the name’s value, it kinda brings to mind the Filipino’s unique way of adding panache to an otherwise drab name by putting in an “H”. Like BHoyet. Or LeaH. Or the ridiculous BHadHetH! I swear. A kid I grew up with had that name, and she was awfully proud of it. I say, good for her. But for me, I like my name simple. No extra vowel please.
Now, Starbucks is a common crime scene of many a name’s massacre. So far, only one – yeah, count that, ONE – barista got my name right without needing to ask me how I spell it. His name’s Gail from Shell Mamplasan Starbucks. Yep, HE. Maybe we’re kindred spirits. Brothers in “mutilated names’ paradise”. I mean, having gone through childhood with a name like that, he prolly knew how important it was to get my name’s spelling right. But what’s more impressive about Gail was that he was our barista on more than one occasion and he got my name right. ALL. THE. TIME. Now, THAT’S service. But of course, my name’s been tortured by many of the other baristas. One wrote “Marni” on my cup. Another girl’s name. It didn’t matter to him that the guy standing in front of him was all of 6-feet with a five o’clock shadow. Marni. Crazy. Then there’s “Barney.” My good friend, Ricky, would teasingly call me that when I act dorky (which usually happens when I’m “toxic”), but that’s a private joke among friends. That barista wasn’t a friend at all, and I seriously doubt he’ll be one of mine. Certainly not after that “Barney” boo-boo. Or how about that girl from Starbucks Madrigal who called me “Army.”
“One tall non-fat café mocha with sugar free vanilla for an Army!”
That certainly would be enough to fray everyone’s nerves and send them flying out the door. Imagine an army invading Madrigal. Or how about the one in Corte de las Palmas:
“One grande café americano for Diego, one tall decaf cappuccino for Moi, and one tall hazelnut mocha for… (pauses for a few seconds)… Carmi?”
Good grief. But this one tops ‘em all:
(Starbucks Petron, the one along the southbound portion of South Expressway)
Me: I’ll have a tall hot non-fat mocha, non-fat milk, with sugar-free vanilla. Hold off on the whipped cream and chocolate syrup, please.
Girl barista: Okay, sir. And what name should I put on the cup?
Me: Arni.
Girl barista: Is that short for Arnold?
Me: No, just Arni.
Girl barista: Alright, sir. Besides, you don’t look like an Arnold.
Me: (smells something flirty… activate flirt mode level 1…2…3…4) Oh, yeah? And what name would you give me?
Girl barista: (smiling… I didn’t notice it when I got in, but girl barista was actually very pretty… Donita Rose pretty) Arni’s a cute name.
Me: (flirt mode level 5) Well, remind me to thank my mom for that.
Girl barista: (still smiling) You should. Would you like to try any of our pastries?
Me: (flirt mode level infinity) Alright, I’ll have that one (points to a chocolate cake-like thing, but with yellow stuff)
Lesson No. 1: When in flirt mode, buy. Just buy anything.
Girl barista: One tiramisu?
Me: Is that what it’s called?
Girl barista: Yes, Arni.
Me: (she called me by my first name!) Okay, one tirumisu, tirrasu, whatever.
Girl barista: Okay, here’s your change, Arni.
Me: Thanks… uh (looks at the name plate)… Thanks ______ (Haha! You really think I’ll tell you who she was? No way! She’s mine! Haha!)
After five minutes…
Guy barista: One tall non-fat café mocha with sugar-free vanilla, no whipped cream… for ARNIIIIIIII!!!
Me: Thanks!
Guy barista: Enjoy your drink sir…
Me: (looks at the paper cup where Donita Rose lovingly wrote my name… and saw….A-R-N-E-E!!!)
Pretty barista lady called me ARNEE. Flirt mode infinity…5…4…3…2…1…pffffft… The girl couldn’t spell. Darn.
Monday, July 10, 2006
"Ano Daw?!"
It was a pretty sedate Sunday. I rarely ever get to spend Sundays at home coz most of the time, I'd be in Manila, talking and talking and talking to nursing students. I must say that I do enjoy lecturing, especially if the students are as good as the ones from UP or PLM or Perps (Haha! Bola!). For the past couple of months, the PLM nursing students who are currently reviewing at RUN (the review center I'm affiliated with... another of my rackets! Haha!) for the December board exams have been my audience as I barrage their brains with my "ode to fluids and electrolytes." But today, I finally had my long-awaited "Sunday at Home". It ain't a big deal pala. Sunday has never been my favorite day even back when I was in high school. I'd usually play all day Satuday, then I buckled down to "work" again on Sunday when I would read all my notes and study the topics for the coming week. I told you I was an exemplary student. Haha! Mabait talaga ako. And when I started going on duty, for some reason, I'd always get the weekend 24-hour duties. I mean, if I weren't on duty on a Sunday, I'd be on duty on a Saturday, and spend the following Sunday with my back plastered to my bed, vegetating, after 24 hours of back-breaking, ego-deflating, sanity-losing, weight-reducing, and ulcer-inducing tour of duty at the PGH-ER, charity wards or ICU. Haaay, the life of a medical student. I miss it, though... NOT! Haha! Nah, I really do miss it. Kaya nga I'm not quite used to the idea of a "free Sunday" and I usually don't know what I should be doing if I get one. Like today. My sister and brother-in-law left for somewhere, my mom and dad drove off to Makati with my sister-in-law, niece and nephews to buy shoes for my mom (the Dean has to always look great, especially when she's gonna attend the capping and pinning ceremonies of her students), and my girlfriend is in the US. So with nothing much to do, I spent the whole day being a couch potato and did a DVD marathon while munching on my favorite Hershey's plain dark chocolate bar and Nestea green iced tea (with mint! - Sarap!).
I checked my e-mail earlier and saw this funny message sent by a friend. It's so hilarious! Here it goes:
MGA KASABIHANG BINAGO NG PANAHON:
> Ang taong nagigipit... sa Bumbay kumakapit.
> Pag may usok... may nag-iihaw.
> Don't judge the book by its cover... if you're not a judge, or else you will cover the book!
> Ang taong naglalakad ng matulin... may utang!
> Ang taong naglalakad ng matulin... late na sa appointment!
> No guts, no glory... No ID, no entry.
> Birds of the same feather that pray together, stay together.
> Birds of the same feather... are the same birds.
> Birds of the same feather... make a good feather duster!
> Kapag may isinuksok at walang madukot... may nandukot!
> Kapag may isinuksok... may IPUPUTOK!
> Kapag may isinuksok... isuksok mo pa! Harder! Yeah! <-- bastus! hehe!
> Kapag may isinuksok... may mabubuntis!
> Ang buhay ay parang bato... It's hard.
> Walang matigas na tinapay sa gutom na tao.
> Ang taong di marunong lumingon sa pinanggalingan... ay may stiff neck!
> Kapag may tiyaga, may nilaga... Kapag may taga, may tahi.
> Huli man daw at magaling... UNDERTIME PA RIN!
> To err is human... To errs is humans!
> Matalino man ang matsing, matsing pa rin!
> Better late than later.
> Better late than pregnant.
> Aanhin ang palasyo kung ang nakatira ay kuwago... buti pa ang bahay kubo, sa paligid ay linga.
> Ang sakit ng kalingkingan, kailangan ng Alaxan.
> And hindi marunong magmahal sa sariling wika... ay lumaki sa ibang bansa.
> Kapag maigsi ang kumot, siguro tumangkad ka na!
> Kapag maigsi ang kumot, bumili ka na ng bago!
> Behind the clouds are the other clouds.
> Aanhin pa ang damo... kung shabu na ang uso!
> It's better to cheat than to repeat.
> Do unto others... THEN RUN!!! <-- this one's so funny!
> Pag di ukol, di bubukol... baka baog!
> Kapag puno na ang salop... kumuha ka ng ibang salop.
> Magbiro ka na sa lasing, magbiro ka na sa bagong gising... wag lang sa lasing na bagong gising!
> When all else fail, follow instructions.
> No man is an island, because time is gold. <-- kakapraning ito!
> An apple a day... is too expensive!
> An apple a day... is seven apples a week!
> An apple a day... is not an orange a day! <-- ano ba yan?! parang drug addict!
> Hindi lahat ng kumikinang ay ginto... muta lang yan!
> When it rains... it floods. <-- isa pa ito... kakaloko!
> Pagkahaba-haba man ng prusisyon, mauupos din ang kandila!
> Ang buhay ay parang gulong - minsan nasa itaas, minsan nasa... vulcanizing shop!
> Batu-bato sa langit, ang tamaan... sapul!
> Try and try until you succeed... or else, try another.
> Ako ang nagsaing, iba ang kumain... diet kasi ako, eh.
> Huwag magbilang ng manok, kung ang alaga mo ay itik.
> Pag may tiyaga... Good luck!
> If you can't beat them... shoot them!
Oh, it's not nice pala to call our Indian friends "bumbay." It's derogatory daw. It's like calling a Filipino "indio," a Chinese "intsik," or an African American "nigger." Nowadays, it's more prudent to always be politically correct. Race, gender, status sensitivity is the name of the game. So see if you can figure out what I'm really saying when I say...
> "Yna is pleasantly plump."
> "Yna is horizontally well-developed."
> "Our politicians are iodine-deficient."
> "Those in government are intellectually challenged."
> "GMA is growth-hormone deprived."
> "Mike Enriquez is aesthetically challenged."
> "Piolo Pascual is sexually ambiguous."
Sunday, July 9, 2006
"Blah, Blah, Blah..."
I just had an amazing night with my Perpetualite friends. I've been hanging out a lot lately with my "UP friends" and "Ateneo friends" (to identify those people I went to school with), and I've been missing out on the latest chismis about my "UPH-DJGTMU" (Whew! Naubusan ako ng hininga dun, ah!) friends. These are the people I work with. The Perpetualites. But more than being just that, they are among the most fun to have around. And when I say "fun," I don't mean the "get-drunk-and-stoned-till-you-puke-your-way-home" kinda fun. All my friends and I don't go for that. We're the "sanitized fun" kinda people. Badminton (or endless teasing over who bowls like a granny - Donna! Haha!), good dinner, great conversation, capped by even more catching up over coffee at Starbucks. Despite text messaging, nothing really ever beats actual good company, especially when the people you hang out with are crazier than the inmates in Mandaluyong. Haha! But tonight was really fun (by my definition). Oh, and we saw Paolo Bediones (with an unidentified female) and Chase Tinio (also with an unidentified female) separately in Friday's. Wala lang. If it weren't for the awkward turning of the heads that greeted them when they walked in, you wouldn't have been able to know they're "celebrities" (my sister said "Chase who?"). Mas maputi pa daw si Sir Mark kesa kay Paolo. Of course, my friends are also notorious for their hyperboles. Hehe! Sa uulitin, guys! And let's do it in August... for Fafi Cito's 29th. Libre daw niya!
I don't get it. Caffeine sometimes doesn't work on me anymore. I'd down a venti non-fat cafe mocha, no whipped cream, no chocolate syrup, with sugar-free vanilla, and I'd still feel like I've only had 30 minutes of sleep. This happens when I've to give a lecture at 7am. But tonight, I only had a tall... (please don't make me repeat that order!), and I'm still very much "alive, alert, awake, enthusiastic." Anyway, I went straight to blogthings.com and ran across this thing. I decided to try it out. I remember the Johari window we had back in college. It's an exercise on self-awareness. Anyone who's studying to be in the health profession, or who is working in that field, I'm sure, knows about it. Apparently what a person knows about himself is only a fraction of who he really is. There are four "squares" in the window, and each represents one of the following: what he clearly knows about himself that others absolutely don't know, what he and other people know about himself, what others know about him that he may not be aware of, and what both he and other people don't know. I know it's kinda confusing, but that's what's fascinating about psychology. The human psyche is such a convoluted territory only a select few dare to explore. Anyway, this blogthing "thing" claims to be capable of telling what a person is like based on his birthdate... of course it's all in the spirit of fun. And this is who I'm supposed to be:
Lemme just dissect this:
You tend to be understated and under appreciated.
I beg to differ. What I do know is that I may, occasionally, give off an "understated" aura (whatever that means) but I would like to think that I've been the recipient of a healthy dose of appreciation. My folks did a good job at ego-boosting when I was a kid, I suppose. Haha!
You have a hidden force to do amazing things, doing them your own way.
If there's one thing about me that I'm quite certain of (this falls within the first square of the Johari window), it's that I'm not much of a maverick. I follow convention. I might not get fazed by unexpected twists coz I always have a back-up plan for everything, but I would like to always stay within the bounds of reason and norm. Simply put, when I work on my coloring book, I always stay inside the lines. That's the obsessive-compulsive in me.
People may see you as strange and shy, but they know little. Your unconventional ways have more power than they (and even you) know.
Shy? You gotta be kidding me! "Shy" would be the last word people would use to describe me. I might be reserved, but "shy?" Uh, I dunno...
Your strength: Standing up for what you know is true
Your weakness: You tend to be picky and rigid
Well, at least, they got this one right. Haha!
I know nothing about power color or power symbol. But silver ain't my favorite color. And square? I guess my friends sometimes think of me as pretty "square." Yun kaya yung ibig sabihin ng power symbol?
Naku! At least half of my birthdate interpretations don't agree with how I see myself. Mom, am I adopted? Hehe!
I don't get it. Caffeine sometimes doesn't work on me anymore. I'd down a venti non-fat cafe mocha, no whipped cream, no chocolate syrup, with sugar-free vanilla, and I'd still feel like I've only had 30 minutes of sleep. This happens when I've to give a lecture at 7am. But tonight, I only had a tall... (please don't make me repeat that order!), and I'm still very much "alive, alert, awake, enthusiastic." Anyway, I went straight to blogthings.com and ran across this thing. I decided to try it out. I remember the Johari window we had back in college. It's an exercise on self-awareness. Anyone who's studying to be in the health profession, or who is working in that field, I'm sure, knows about it. Apparently what a person knows about himself is only a fraction of who he really is. There are four "squares" in the window, and each represents one of the following: what he clearly knows about himself that others absolutely don't know, what he and other people know about himself, what others know about him that he may not be aware of, and what both he and other people don't know. I know it's kinda confusing, but that's what's fascinating about psychology. The human psyche is such a convoluted territory only a select few dare to explore. Anyway, this blogthing "thing" claims to be capable of telling what a person is like based on his birthdate... of course it's all in the spirit of fun. And this is who I'm supposed to be:
| Your Birthdate: April 22 |
 You tend to be understated and under appreciated. You have a hidden force to do amazing things, doing them your own way. People may see you as strange and shy, but they know little. Your unconventional ways have more power than they (and even you) know. Your strength: Standing up for what you know is true Your weakness: You tend to be picky and rigid Your power color: Silver Your power symbol: Square Your power month: April |
Lemme just dissect this:
You tend to be understated and under appreciated.
I beg to differ. What I do know is that I may, occasionally, give off an "understated" aura (whatever that means) but I would like to think that I've been the recipient of a healthy dose of appreciation. My folks did a good job at ego-boosting when I was a kid, I suppose. Haha!
You have a hidden force to do amazing things, doing them your own way.
If there's one thing about me that I'm quite certain of (this falls within the first square of the Johari window), it's that I'm not much of a maverick. I follow convention. I might not get fazed by unexpected twists coz I always have a back-up plan for everything, but I would like to always stay within the bounds of reason and norm. Simply put, when I work on my coloring book, I always stay inside the lines. That's the obsessive-compulsive in me.
People may see you as strange and shy, but they know little. Your unconventional ways have more power than they (and even you) know.
Shy? You gotta be kidding me! "Shy" would be the last word people would use to describe me. I might be reserved, but "shy?" Uh, I dunno...
Your strength: Standing up for what you know is true
Your weakness: You tend to be picky and rigid
Well, at least, they got this one right. Haha!
I know nothing about power color or power symbol. But silver ain't my favorite color. And square? I guess my friends sometimes think of me as pretty "square." Yun kaya yung ibig sabihin ng power symbol?
Naku! At least half of my birthdate interpretations don't agree with how I see myself. Mom, am I adopted? Hehe!
Saturday, July 8, 2006
"Ang Galing Mo, Bianca!"
I just found out from mom yesterday that my second niece, Bianca, aced the entrance exam to Fortpitt Grammar School in Kent, the United Kingdom. And that's great news! She just left with her mom
and sister, Nicole (see: The Empty Nest...) exactly a week ago. She would've been in grade six at the University of Perpetual Help in Laguna where she spent her preschool and first five years of grade school. But coz she passed the qualifying exam in Fortpitt, she'll soon be entering her first year of middle school, which is equivalent to our first year of high school, this coming fall. And, like myself, she'll be skipping a year! Now, I can rightfully brag that brains do run in the family... and she got hers from our side! Haha! Ang yabang ni Ninong! Haha!
and sister, Nicole (see: The Empty Nest...) exactly a week ago. She would've been in grade six at the University of Perpetual Help in Laguna where she spent her preschool and first five years of grade school. But coz she passed the qualifying exam in Fortpitt, she'll soon be entering her first year of middle school, which is equivalent to our first year of high school, this coming fall. And, like myself, she'll be skipping a year! Now, I can rightfully brag that brains do run in the family... and she got hers from our side! Haha! Ang yabang ni Ninong! Haha! Congratulations, dear Binky! I love you and I miss you! Same goes to Ate Coie... MWAH! :)
Walang Magawa
I watched "Superman Returns" on its premiere night, and watched it two more times on its regular run... I'm a Superman addict. And whaddya know? I AM SUPERMAN! Haha! :)
You are Superman
Click here to take the Superhero Personality Quiz
You are Superman
| You are mild-mannered, good, strong and you love to help others.  |
Click here to take the Superhero Personality Quiz
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