20.09.04; Stoned and Sailing; 17:46

Missed Kodak Moment of the Week: gumpaste spilling her guts as if there’s no tomorrow. Virtual demise of the week: Direk‘s. Groundbreaking news, as in literally: Local tremor. Domestic deficiencies: Youngest brother’s freshman syndrome extends and Mom’s ensuing BP spike. Literary joys: A published article and a published feedback-through-SMS this September. Kata-quote of the week: Six video! Boob tube moment: Biting my nails after the realization I’m the sole person on earth who doesn’t know ‘Feng Shui’ is being shown. Friend Feud that failed to make it in this month’s issue of Fudge: Mystica and Mae Rivera. Fuck, nahahalata nang nasabik ako sa ‘The Bash’!!!

Dear Niwee,

At last, at the dying age of 31, she finally got high.

After a plastic cup of lambanog, the host inquired if they want some happy brownies. Completely aware of the added ingredient, she ebulliently asked for a bite. Curiosity was her hunger that night. The more she can’t taste the marijuana at the end of her tongue, the more she craved for more. She was on the lookout for her fifth chunk of the choco goodie when the rolled joint became the only available treat for escape. Since she can’t smoke, she just sat beside her favorite fellow that night and complained about the sweltering heat.

All of a sudden, her heart was too hyper for her stationary self. So she initiated a new topic for the pure desire to hear herself talk. Does she sound the same? Will we take notice? But the pressing question was: is she officially stoned? Her respiratory system was supplying her the answer. But she refused to listen. Mirror, mirror on my hand, whose scary face is beneath those strands? The eye makeup is no longer helpful in enlarging her peepers: it was too red and drowsy. Inspite of this, she felt fulfilled. And as quirky as it may sound, she struggled to be conscious like what she usually does when she gets a back massage. Sleep kills the sensation, she reasoned out. So how does being on drugs any different?

The struggle ended when she realized the nagging need to throw up. There is no way she is crawling her way down of the rooftop in front of total strangers! She dialled the Messiah’s number and begged for refuge in a very monotonous song. End of the story: she was escorted to Starbucks-Letran since she’s too stoned insisting she wants to meet her in Starbucks-Robinson’s Manila.

– – –

Considering how our shifts vary and our priorities evolved, it is a miracle the office girls and I managed to go on a trip for 2 days. Murphy was again proven an expert, thus the imagined beach transformed into a volcano.

With bagfuls of items, sense of adventure and midget-sized pockets, we braved the way to the Taal Lake Yacht Club. Upon arrival, sheng_17 and I made full use of our PR skills to deduct as many charges as possible from the Manager whilst ilyn, petiks and vflaire set up the 6-kilo heavy tent. The “Boobsey twins” somehow managed to lure the profit-driven Mang Jun but the trio (I am resisting the urge to call them titless trio! Hahahaha!) gave up and asked for assistance. By night, the windsurfing students and instructors have gone home hence giving us the illusion we were Survivor babes fighting to win the coveted pictionary/charades title. We had our breakfast overlooking the Taal Volcano’s crater. The trek to the volcano was the kind of cardio workout that no 15-minute treadmill and 15-minute Rotex combined can ever surpass. We didn’t get to figure out how many feet we were above sea level but I assure you even Hercules could not throw a stone in the lake. I had a total of four unsuccessful attempts, discounting the bloopers. On our way back to our lovely tent, we asked the bangkero to stop in the middle of the lake so we could have a swim. What a relief to be away from the seaweeds! After a soothing star formation we executed and a half-serious race back to the banca, we enjoyed a hearty lunch with the resort’s owner. He mentioned the staff and crew of GMA 7’s Lovely Day were shooting footage of the place. I didn’t get to watch it, though.

Before I conclude my super delayed, non-sensical narration, can you keep a secret?

 

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