29 May 2006
the Q.C.
nothing, NOTHING in my life had prepared me for what happened to me last wednesday.before i continue, i must make the following clear:
i am not really one who grew up on the wrong side of the tracks. some cultures might even consider me to be a cold-hearted spoiled brat. i know what i want and i find ways get it, that is if it's not already there for the taking. i succeed most of the time.
you can't blame me for this. i have always believed that we have enough, if not more than what's necessary, and i kind of always knew that i looked the part. i don't really look foreign or anything and it is very easy to spell my last name, but i've always believed that i did not look like a charity case.
* * *
"welcome to the dark side."
--ryan atwood (The OC, pilot episode)
i tagged along with hans to an event--the launch of some coffeetable book published by Philippine Rattlet (not the real name). i wasn't really planning to go with him. in short, i was in my commonfolk attire.
when we got there, it was a black tie event. while everyone was in full regalia, i was wearing what i was wearing. (see picture.) fine. but then, since he was there in his capacity as official contributing photographer, he was supposed to, well, take pictrures of these people.
i was to get their names for the caption.
"whaaaat? you don't know jeanie goulbourne?!" (i'm not sure if i spelled that right and frankly, i don't care. i can spell myn own name right: carl clemente, and for me, that's enough to get me through life.)
enter the name game. thing is, nobody told me that i should have known who these people were. yes, they expected me to know them. well, not all of them but most of them. i wanted to tell them to just get over themselves and to just spare this young "reporter." i wasn't even there as one, i was merely helping someone. oh but hans, they didn't mind the atention he was giving them because he was there to take photos of them in all their prada and mac and belo glory. but here's a boy in blue and yellow stripes asking for their names. the boy was not even in leather shoes. ewe.
talk about ryan atwood in a newpsie party.
there was this big young lady with a totally un-spell-able family name who was wearing an...er... interesting facial expression the entire evening. at one point, i wanted to inch my way to their cocktail table and sniff her drink just to see if it's vinegar that's in her wine glass. hey, i just wanted to understand where she was coming from.
another is this "yacht maker." you see, he makes yachts and he expected me to be interested in that. suddenly, he reached into his pocket. at that point, i started to step back. as far back as time and space could allow. hans was left near the...the...the thing. when the thing brought out a wad of bills (the thing's friends taunted: go choose a bill) i didn't know if i should go back and whisk hans away from that animal or if i should just run away as fast as i could.
in the middle of everything, i told hans that i needed to have a cigarette. he chose to stay behind and asked for the notebook (on which i write the goddam names). without meaning to, i said in an audible volume "good luck with them." the girl in front of me laughed.
see! even they know of the absurdity.
* * *
in one of my earlier posts, i talked about being asleep in a bar. last friday, louis and co. said that the other gays in the table said that i was such a bitch for not talking to them. well, wouldn't i be a bitch to myself if i tried talking to them while i was sleeping?
anyway, i saw one of them again last friday. he looked fine. not the type i'd usually obsess over, but he was fine.
now, from palanca street, we went over to louis's place at magallanes. there, after some time, i lied down on the couch and fell asleep. i wasn't wasted or anything. i really just fell asleep. louis said that said gay guy was about to go over to where i was sleeping but saw that i was wearing white socks. said gay guy then made a crack (an alusion to michael jackson) and backed out.
* * *
let's stick to the o.c. reference.
last saturday, i finally was able to go to the spa. i indulged in delicious treatments and even had a nice swedish massage. afterwards, i had dinner with a couple of friends before going to javie's to hang out with a different set of people. (i love you all equally.) i brought my notebook computer and my sketchpad.
i just had a massage so they couldn't have expected me to jump into the pool, right. i was just there to wade, to provide good conversation, wity remarks and to look pretty BY the pool. when my friend iyay asked me what my computer was doing on the table, i simply said "well we're hanging out, right? so we're supposed to have fun. this is fun for me."
but then, i invited marge over and she was swayed by my line "this involves swimming and sangria." later on, after all that nefarious sangria (and trust me on this: never substitute pineapple juice for orange juice. it was just plain FUNKY), that was around 4 am, she pushed me into the swimming pool. now, here she is asking for forgiveness.
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