Five things that ruined my Christmas

Okay, let me make things clear. I’m too old a person, too sane, too reasonable to believe that roughly 2000 years ago, an all-powerful deity decided to send His Only Son to save the world and all that jazz. I’m too old a person, too sane, too reasonable to believe in stuff like heraldic angels, donkeys that know their way to the stable, bright stars that act like beacons for lost wandering magi.
But I do celebrate Christmas. Nope, it’s not because I am a handful of brain cells short of being sane (though my brother would definitely argue that THAT’s the thing). It’s just that, it’s sorta nice to strip your cynicism for a year and really, really celebrate with people who matter the most, giving them gifts and at least letting them know they matter. Once a year. Nice. (Hey, come on. Gimme a break. I ain’t a complete Scrooge).

But still, there are really things that test your patience, that make you want to hand out little Darwin trophies so that we would finally be rid of idiots that litter the populace. And so to the countdown of things that nearly ruined my belief that despite the puppets in the Senate and that aberration called mutant called Jok-jok Bolante, there’s still good in the world:

1. That annoying neighbor who makes it a point to share his music. Look, I only take this much amount of Christmas carols before I go into seizures and slit my wrists. And I even have less tolerance for those Mariah Carey bastardizations and those Britney Spears bubblegum ditties. Those things just make me wanna puke my guts out, one organ at a time. But my neighbor? Why he just feels compelled to pop in carols, Mariah Carey and N’Sync CDs and put the volume way up, so that people within the 1-km radius could hear his music. I can stand the guy (couldn’t see him anyway. His house is draped in heavy curtains… couldn’t care less if he spends the day jerking off to WWF posters or lighting candles on a pentagram while sacrificing goats); I just can’t stand the music.

2. Kids who dart in and out of traffic in downtown area for Fear Factor-ish caroling. Um… nothing against the kids, you hear? And never mind the misanthropes who feel that caroling is just a legit form of mendicancy. No, I’m talking about the risks that the children are exposed to just to earn a few pesos per car (hopefully). Tragically, one of them kids met his end, squished beneath the tires of a pick-up truck that was trying to navigate the labyrinthine streets along Central Market. His mother told us the kid was trying to earn a few pesos so that he could have something to buy for his Kris Kringle. The fact that the “future leaders of our nation” are reduced to begging in the streets at Christmastime, no less – well, that just puts a damper to things, huh?

3. Outrageous product placements at the malls. Coke (hyperacidity anyone?), McDonald’s (McFats and McHeartAttacks – not very palatable options, huh?), Jollibee (Still McFats and McHeartAttacks – maybe minus the Mac), Purefoods (jamon de bola drowning in lard - yummy), San Miguel (pickle your liver for free!) and a hundred other MNC products that reek of shameless capitalism.

4. Cheap relatives. Okay, I understand the economic pie is skewed, way skewed and favors those on top. But puh-lease, spare us the opportunity for a one-raised-eyebrow moment (my good friend, The Turk is soooooooooooooo good at it) by re-gifting stuff and sending us stuff that we gave you. I once received a stuffed pig from a relative which upon closer scrutiny was the stuffed pig I gave her kid the year before. The gift even has the same tensil and wrapping paper. GRRR!

5. Humbugs. I have friends who don’t celebrate Christmas at all. And I know of people from different faiths who don’t believe in Christ (they celebrate Chanukah instead, or stuff like that). But, please don’t be such cheap a-holes you wouldn’t pay the requisite 13th month pay because, well, you don’t celebrate the season. It’s one thing not to believe in God, it’s another to actually exploit people. So, cough up the dough already!

Have a blessed Christmas everybody!

Note: Cartoon Courtesy of Flickr

Mayor Belt-Holder

Who’s that guy holding Manny’s belt? He’s the mayor of a Negros city, right?
Ah, the indignity we are willing to endure just so we can bask on the reflected glory of the Pambansang Kamao (not related to the Pambansang Ibon – though the resemblance is remarkable).
Heard from the grapevine that this mayor had a habit of transferring loyalties at the last minute. He was known to have ditched his patron oh so many years ago because of his political ambitions.
I’m betting he’s gonna transfer to Oscar Dela Hoya’s side at the last minute once he knows what Dela Hoya really looks like.
I’m not implying anything. I’m just saying. ‘Nuff said.

Funny Quotes and the Hero that is Manny Pacquiao

Quotes that crack me up:
Overheard. An exchange between an isaw vendor and her customer.
“Hey, how’s your lola? Do you still get to visit her?”
“I go there everyday sometimes.” (Eyng… huh?)

In a religious recollection:
“Tell me who you are and I’ll tell you who you are.”
“Birds of the same flock feather together.”
“I need that blue yellow pad!”
“I looooooooooooove David’s wieners!”

Outside a native restaurant:
“Hey… ka watch na kamo Seabiscuit?”
“Si Biscuit? Sino na man?”

In Wowowee.
“May puso ka Willie!” Yeah, right… he has such a big heart he beats his wife to a pulp. And he readily exploits people’s poverty, promising rewards if anybody calls him “Gwapo”. Such a big heart, huh?

In a seminar:
“We know that when Manny Pacquiao fights, he fights for us, for the nation.”
Only an idiot would believe in this whopper. Yeah, Manny Pacquiao is a great fighter, defeating Mex boxers who are all way past their prime anyway. He punches well, yes. But a hero? Please, hand me the barf bag. Let’s not get too hung up and emotional with this, please. I’ve seen heroes sacrificing their lives for the country, and so far, on the hero level Pacquiao is not even that close. I would luuuuuuuuuuuurv to see the day when our “hero” fights without the prize money.
How can you call somebody a hero when he lives in a multi-million mansion while his father languishes in squalor? How can you call somebody a hero when he earns billions from his fights, but hardly spares a cent for an impoverished fan from the provinces (I know this one personally, because the call he turned down came from my husband, a broadcaster who was approached by the dead fan’s family for help. My husband can still hear Manny’s voice as he gruffly turned his assistant, “Sabihin mo tulog ako”. Idiot. He was partying, and he could hardly spare a cent for a poor man’s coffin. Again, idiot.).
So yes, call Manny a great boxer. But a hero? Heck, no.

Of Emo and the Vamps

What’s with the emo rev? First, it infects music. Now, the vampires.
Grrrrrr… Okay, take a good look at the pic right there. Cake make-up, cheesy lipstick, dark eyeshadows. Stupid vapid vampire.  
I, along with the rest of the family, watched the movie that has the tween set swooning, sighing and cracking their heads on the vinyl theater floors. Of course, I’m talking about Twilight, that over-rated movie about gorgeous (?) vampires with really bad make-up.
While the girl at my back was shrieking, my seven-year-old niece beside me was yawning, “This is not creepy, this is boring.”  
Right on, gurl! Okay, okay… I get it. The movie was all about (supposed) repression and abstinence, so I did the next best thing. Maybe I was just missing something. So I DLed the book.
And boy, was I surprised. The book was written in Sweet Dreams prose, with a lot of references to how “penetrating” and “tantalizing” the eyes of the main biter was (can’t remember what the name was – sounded Irish. And really, I don’t care.) Look, if you have a vampire book and the vampires are as interesting as the mold forming in my three-day enchilada, how good can that get?
So in frustration, I went home and watched Keyser Soze instead, a character exponentially more menacing than an emo neckbiter.  At least, my cerebral cortex wasn't left numb for two hours...