EPAL (Eight Points at Labay-labay*)

* Randomness, in Ilonggo labay-labay (stress on 2nd and 4th syllables) means random and, most of the time, unnecessary stuff. In Bisaya, labay (stress on 1st syllable) means to throw, so I guess, it sort of means the same, right?

(1) I am currently in that smoking area/al fresco area of McDonald's Greenbelt. A few minutes ago, I was minding my own business (tending to my Facebook restaurant and reading Jessica Zafra's blog) when I saw, from my peripheral vision, a European-looking guy (think Peter Sarsgaard) walk over the waist-high glass fence that separated the area from the sidewalk. He approached me, and in ever-so-thinly accented English, asked me for 29 bucks because he needed that much to go home to San Pedro, Laguna. I was dumbstruck for around three seconds before I offered my apologies.

(2) He went inside the store, probably to ask for 29 bucks from someone else. His head was filled with sweat and I was freaked out for a minute before recovering. He was so precise. 29 pesos. He must have really needed it. Lord, sorry. I'm just your regular, jaded Manila resident whose first reaction to any solicitor is a quick N-O.

(3) If he had said that he needed 29 bucks to get to his next pit stop before a team catches up with him in the Amazing Race, I would have reached for my pockets in no time, nanginginig pa.

(4) I just watched An Education days ago, so I really have a HUGE thing for Peter Sarsgaard. It is difficult to say no to Peter Sarsgaard.

(5) If he had asked me for some other thing, it would have taken me a full minute to say no. Nobody says no to Peter Sarsgaard. Who the F cares about Maggie Gylenhaal? Actually, I would have said yes.

No, wait. My morals are intact. Intact ampota.

(6) Now, why is he going home to San effing Pedro in effing Laguna? No offense to Laguna residents, but...?
(7) Wait, are there an abundance of cash-strapped and impossibly hot foreigners in San Pedro, Laguna? Shall we all move to effing San Pedro like, now?

(8) Will somebody tell me how to react to a hot foreigner soliciting cash?

Oysters:Pearl = Me:Ranting

A pearl is formed when a foreign object is introduced into a mussel or oyster. In turn, the animal coats that foreign object with a substance called nacre. The piling up of nacre makes the pearl.

Now, if human beings could only be like oysters that not only coat irritants, but also create something beautiful. Alas, this is not the case, especially for your truly. Irritating objects are subjects of, well, irritation, and therefore it is my ernest wish that they be eradicated from the face of the earth. No, I'm not an oyster, hell no. So, sue me.

It just so happens that our planet is filled with irritants, and much of them are things I cannot really eradicate, unfortunately. They come in all forms and circumstances, mostly unavoidable - songs that stick in your consciousness like moist booger, overheard conversations you wish you hadn't heard - you get my drift. So, let this blog serve as my vent for things irritating, in the hopes that, despite not having the enviable talent of oysters, I may still hold on to what's left of my sanity.

Case in point:
One afternoon, I was in line to pay for junk I wanted to eat minutes later, and two ladies dressed in university uniforms were engaged in a very animated conversation. It was their turn already but the girl holding her supposed purchase was lost in her thoughts, as she was trying to remember something to contribute to aforementioned conversation. The cashier was thirty seconds close to hurling expletives, with her eyes ready to commit murder, if looks could kill. The conversation became a variation of the popular noontime show staple Pinoy Henyo, and everyone got into the action because it felt like the girl will not hand in the bottled water she wants to buy unless she remembers what it was she really wanted.

Girl Friend: So, inumin siya? (So, it's something to drink?)
Gaga girl: Oo, shiet, ano ba kase yun? Ungggggggh. (Yes, shit, if I could only remember. Scary sound of frustration that one wouldn't expect a lady to produce, with matching feet stomping).
GF: Softfrink?
GG: Hindi. (No.)
GF: Kape?
GG: Hindi.
GF: Juice?
GG: Mmmmmm.....deeeeeeeee. (Neeeeeeee..........oooooowwwwwwwwwwwww. Imagine sound of someone constipated for two days.)
GF: Masarap? Ano color? (Is it delicious? What color?)
GG: Parang yellow na orange. (One of two things: Mountain Dew or urine???)

Cashier is frothing at her mouth and threatening to transform into Emily Rose any second.

GF: Iniinom natin? (Do we drink it?)
GG: Oo naman. (But of course, stupid.)
Counter bagger: Malamig siyang inumin? (Is it a cold drink?)

GG shots CB a sarcastic glance along the lines of "Yah, like that's gonna help" while refusing to honor what I felt was a valid question.

GF: Oo nga, malamig? (Yes, is it cold?)
GG: Duh, syempre. (Duh, of course, with matching rolling of eyes, with undertones of "Why did you listen to lowly counter bagger. You're supposed to be on my side. Some friend, eejot!")

Cashier breathes extra audibly like her lungs were about to combust.

GF: Naku, ano kaya yan? (Oh my, what could that be?)
GG: Basta, maikli lang yung name. (Well, it's got a short name.)
GF: Mga ilang letters? (Around how many letters?)
GG: Sure ako. Sure ako. Two. Two letters. Ayan na!!! Nasa dulo na ng dila ko!!! (I'm sure. I'm sure. Two. Two letters. There it is! It's at the tip of my tongue).
GF: May ganun ba? (Is there such a thing, you moron? We're causing a scene. I don't wanna be identified with you after this.)
Cashier: Coke? (In between gnashed teeth)
GG: Two letters, 'te. Two!!! (Two letters, sister. Two letters. Don't you know how to count? You're the cashier, you're supposed to know how to count.)
Me, who is 95% so over this woman: RC?

GG stares blankly at me, considers my answer for 5 seconds, then says: Hindi e. Hindi siya softdrink. Pero two letters talaga e. (No, it's not. It's not a softdrink. But it really has two letters, with her eyes starting to get misty from the struggle of thinking)

Two guys who looked like construction workers making the building beside the store and our office were behind me at the line. One of them was beginning to mutter "Pasalamat to babae sya..." (She should thank her lucky stars she a girl or else, I would have clobbered her to a pulp).

Then, by some stoke of genius, GG turned around and looked at the construction workers behind me. Her eyes widened like she found a pot of gold when she saw what the other construction worker was holding.

GG: AYAN!!! Ayan!! Girl, Ayan o! (There it is!!! There! Girl, there it is, pointing her friend to what the guy was holding)

The guy was holding a plastic bottle of C2 iced tea.


C2. C. Two. C. 2.

GF: Ah!!!!!!!!!!! C2! Hahahahahahaha. (Nervous laughter, meaning: Shet, nakakahiya ka.)
CB: C2 pala e. (Oh, it's C2. If you weren't pretty, I swear you're just plain dumb.)
Cashier: C2? (Medics, I think I'm gonna faint.)
Construction workers: Ah, eto? (Oh, this one? )
Me: ... (ANAKNGPUTAKTE. BOBA. SINCE WHEN NAGING LETTER ANG NUMERONG 2? HA? BWAKANANG(*)^$^&B V*B!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)
GF: Girl, balik ka dun at kuha ka na ng C2. (Girl, haul your hiney on the double and get that effing drink before someone whoops your ass.)

After the two of them left the counter, I looked at the cashier, the two construction workers and the poor bagger. I swear they, me included, looked like we almost got ran over by a car seconds ago.

Cue REM.
"Don't let yourself go." (looking at the bagger whose mouth was still agape)
"'Cause everybody cries..." (looking at the cashier who has been shaking her head for two minutes now)
"Everybody hurts...." (looking at the two construction workers, whose bottles of C2 iced tea are already dripping precipitate)
"Sometimes." (Feeling like I just ran a 100 meter dash)

I walked out slowly of the store while devouring my bag of Mr. Chips in record time.

I could just imagine how difficult it is to be an oyster.