Words For Moolah

Man A: (to self) Blue is a nice color and it's perfect for my car.

Man B: (butts in) Red is not an ugly color.

Man A: Ok.

Man B: Are you saying red is an ugly color?

Man A: All I said was blue is a nice color and that it's perfect for my car. I wasn't even talking to you.

Man B: Red is not an ugly color and it is more popular than blue. So are you saying my car won't look good in red? Besides yellow is even better.

Man A: Where did those other colors come from? All I said was blue is a nice color.

Man B: Red is better than blue. You're stupid and dumb.

Man A: I wasn't even comparing colors but we can talk about them if you like.

Man B: Whatever. I like red and yellow. Don't try to tell me you have better taste in color than me.

Man A: Huh?

Man B: You're color blind. Sure you have a blue car but don't tell me I can't have mine in red -- or yellow.

Man A: All i said was that blue is a nice color and it's perfect for my car.

Man B: My color choice is so much better than yours. You're just trying to assume superiority over me. And, you're a dumbass.

Man A: Blue... nice... color... perfect... for... car... wasn't... even... talking... to... you...

A few weeks ago I ran into a former neighbor of mine. This happened while I was visiting relatives at the old neighborhood where I grew up. I was just whiling away the time in front of my auntie's house when this person came up to me. It was a pleasant encounter considering that it's been more than a decade since we last saw each other. However, all the time we were talking I was struggling to remember his name but I just couldn't.

Most people in my old neighborhood belong to the low income bracket. Most of them are in fact informal settlers or squatters. This particular person is one of them. I know for a fact that he used to live in one of the shanty colonies in our community.

I first encountered this person when I was still a college student. We would often run into each other on our street. I must admit I used to look at this person with contempt and distrust. It's not because I was prejudiced against the low income members of our community. It wasn't anything like that. I was just annoyed by his habit of looking at me as if he were sizing me up. The idea of confronting and challenging him to a fight crossed my mind many times back then. Fortunately, it didn't get to that.

A few years later, I got my first job as a production assistant at a film production company. One time our production manager asked me if I knew someone who would be interested in working as a utility man. It was a small job with equally small pay but it was still work. For some altruistic reason, I thought I'd offer the job to this person.

One night I decided to do just that. I knew he had to pass by our house to get to wherever it was that he lived. It didn't take long for him to show up as I had anticipated. When he got in front of our house I approached him and introduced myself. I remember he was a little confused at first that I was talking to him. I guess he thought I was going to confront him for those times when he gave me the evil eye. Anyway, I told him that I was just going to offer him a job. I informed him that the pay wasn't much for a utility man and that he would basically be at the beck and call of everyone else like a house helper. He accepted the offer. I guess he really needed the money.

During the time that he worked with me in that film production company I got to know him a bit. He turned out to be a decent person who just didn't have the same opportunities others like me enjoyed and perhaps took for granted.

My neighbor got to work in that company for just a month. When production of the movie we were filming ended the company let go of its contractual workers. As for me, I got transferred to another production unit. From then on I would just occasionally run into this person. Sometimes I would invite him over for a drink together with my cousins and other neighborhood buddies. All these until about ten years ago when our family relocated.

During my recent encounter with this person, I got the impression that he had become more destitute. He had that homeless look -- soiled, tattered clothes, grimy skin, the works. Yet despite his seemingly unfortunate circumstance he seemed happy and completely without any bitterness.

He engaged me in some small talk. He asked me how I was -- just the usual. It was all too trivial that I can't even remember much about our conversation. However, before he went on his way he did something quite meaningful. In a rather embarrased way he offered to share the small bottle of gin he had just bought. Here was a man who probably haven't had a decent meal for some time offering to share with me the only thing he had.

I politely declined the drink and he went on his way.

Maybe I'm just reading more into it but I really got the feeling that what he did was more than just offer me a drink. The way he said it he seemed as if he was trying to say thanks to me for the little help that I gave him more than a decade ago. I really can't say for sure. In any case I'm thankful that chance encounter happened because it reopened my eyes to the cosmic truth that doing good always has its rewards. It may not always be much or even of equal weight to the original act of kindness but, if you care to look closer, you would see that the reward is almost always something truly meaningful.

The Philippine Charity Sweepstakes Office expects the 6/49 SuperLotto jackpot to hit at least P320 Million by Sunday. That's one big load of cash. This early I'm already thinking of how I would secure myself should I win the big prize. It wouldn't hurt to be prepared.

I imagine that winning P320million pesos would probably cause me to froth in the mouth, keel over, and go into some sort of epileptic seizure. Witnesses, particularly those who know me, would probably suspect then that I had hit the jackpot. That is likely because I've been saying all this time that I will probably have these symptoms if and when I do win the lottery.

I probably won't mind the initial embarrasment, however, I'm pretty sure the thought of being exposed as the P320 Million Man would make me paranoid.

"Is that burly man giving me the evil eye?"
"Is that a surveillance camera?"
"Why is that baby staring at me?"

Redeeming my winning lottery ticket would obviously be a big problem. Who knows what goes on when a lottery winner walks in at the PCSO office. Will they take a picture of me holding up a larger-than-life check with the figure "P320,000,000.00" painted in big, bold, highlighted typeface? Will they make me sign my real name on a voucher or receipt?

Thoughts like these are exactly the reason why I think I should be ready with a disguise. That way I can go claim my prize incognito. I've actually thought up a neat disguise, which for obvious reasons, I will not divulge. But I will say it will involve some prosthetics, heavy metalworks and a piece of fruit.

There is however one big problem that I haven't figured out yet. What if they tell me that the giant check is the check?

Tonight is the big draw for the 6/49 SuperLotto. As of seven this evening, the jackpot was already at P107M. I'm pretty sure the heavens will be swamped with prayers tonight.Incidentally, I did some praying myself earlier today. I was throwing away some garbage, which I've accumulated in my small laptop bag, when I found some of my old unverified lottery tickets. I usually buy lottery tickets and forget about checking if I won anything.

I decided to go to the nearest Lotto outlet to have the tickets verified. While I was walking I decided to say a little prayer. I was aware of the big jackpot tonight but at that moment I just wanted to pray for some help with a small problem I have right now and some cash to tide me over for the next few days. I've been running short of cash these past few days because of some expenses and credit card bills. In fact, all I had in my wallet earlier was P200. While I have some money in the bank I wasn't really keen on withdrawing any because I've already allocated the funds for something else.

Anyway, at the Lotto outlet, I decided to place a bet for tonight's big draw. I usually just pick random numbers whenever I bet because the set of numbers that I used to bet on -- believe it or not -- already came out. And, believe it or not again, that set came out on the one day that I didn't place a bet. That happened a long time ago when I used to bet on the lottery quite regularly.

After placing my bet I gave the teller my old tickets for verification. To my surprise it turned out that one of those tickets won P500 for hitting four out of six numbers. If memory serves me right, I think I already had similar lottery hits at least four times in the past. I was really pleasantly surprised I immediately called "Damaster-En-Kumander" and told her about it.

My winning that small consolation prize couldn't have happened at a better time. Even if it was just a small amount it really made my day. Not only did this lucky win provide me with some disposable cash to last me through the rest of the week it also lifted my spirit. It was really quite serendipitous, so cosmically significant that I decided to pass by a church to say a prayer of thanks. For someone who hasn't been to church for a long time now this was really quite significant.

Well, tonight, I will be joining the millions who will be praying for some luck. If I don't win that'll be ok. I know now that the Lord can tell if you're ready to be surprised and moved.

You know there's something wrong with the world when your company gives you the boot for practicing what you believe to be the more sanitary way of cleaning your b_tthole.

Leonie Johnson of the Townsville Bulletin reports that machine operator Amador Bernabe was sacked fromTownsville Engineering Industries (TEI) because of his toilet habits. Like most Filipinos Bernabe uses water to clean himself during toilet visits.

My sympathy goes to Bernabe not only because he is a kababayan but also for the simple fact that using water to clean your a_s is, without question, more hygienic than if you just use toilet paper. Of course, adding soap into the mix makes it even more hygienic.

I've been in situations where I really need to take a dump but the available restroom doesn't offer any means for me to clean up with water. Whenever I find myself in such a predicament I just resort to doing the next best thing. I hold it in for as long as it takes. It's just unthinkable -- having no water to clean your a_s.

I suppose Bernabe will appeal his case maybe even sue the company. If he does I think he can a build a case using the apparent lack of suitable facilities in his place of work as a basis.

In the report, the company clarified that it didn't fire Bernabe for his toilet habits but for posing a health risk. Reportedly, Bernabe's co-workers have been complaining that he often leaves the toilet cubicle "splashed with water suspected to be contaminated with feces." 

Whether or not those water spills were indeed Bernabe's doing is still a matter that needs to be verified. But, what is clear is that the toilet in TEI's facility is simply not properly equipped to meet the needs of all of its employees. Is it possible the big bosses of TEI haven't heard of toilet bowls equipped with water spray nozzles?

I'm quite certain, with a toilet bowl like that, the problem about water spills will be easily eliminated. It will also allow Bernabe and other like-minded employees to practice what should be universally considered as the more hygienic way of keeping one's a_s clean.

My apologies to my lactose intolerant readers but I really feel strongly about this and I think Bernabe needs our support. And, we should all spread the word that a clean a_s is a happy a_s.

My friend Joseph a.k.a. the Journeyist is pondering the concept of life being nothing more than just an illusion. Those who've seen the Matrix Trilogy should be familiar with the concept.

I can relate to Joseph's deep thinking. Just like him, I also philosphize a lot. Like him, I am also drawn to the idea that everything that we see around us is just an illusion.

While on my way to work the other day I discovered that I had no money in my wallet. But, much to my surprise I wasn't bothered at all. It was like I suddenly realized that money or even the state of not having any is just an illusion.

Unfortunately, the driver of the tricycle I boarded didn't share my Zen-like view of the situation. I shudder to think what type of injury the driver could have inflicted on me had I insisted that I was just an illusion and that I did not really ride his tricycle.

Good thing a co-worker happened to pass by and willingly lent me a mutilated but very real P20 bill.

My three and a half friends could describe me in any number of nasty ways: an arrogant know-it-all, an opinionated a__hole, even a lousy ninong. Yet, despite their candor, I'm pretty certain they will never describe me as a metrosexual. As far as I'm concerned, beyond brushing one's teeth, taking a bath regularly and occasionally combing one's hair, a real man need not stray far from the traditions set by his caveman ancestors.

Sometime last year, "damaster-en-kumander" prevailed upon me to have my very first facial treatment. For her, this was a monumental event as she had been bugging me about it for the longest time. For me, well, there's always a first time for everything and since she was paying for it anyway I thought I might as well just enjoy it.

Yesterday, I had my third facial. This time around I volunteered to join "damaster-en-kumander." I had to volunteer since the alternative was for me too wait in the car for at least an hour.

A soft-spoken woman named Gemma ushered me into one of the cubicles. She told me to lie down and she began the preliminary procedures. To get my face all ready she exposed it to steam and applied a number of solutions. All this she did while gently massaging my face. Soothing, meditative music played in the background while a therapeutic scent wafted in the air. It didn't take long before I dozed off into dreamland.

Not long after, I was roused from my sleep. I was feeling a sharp pain on my cheek. I realized it was Gemma. She was then in the process of pricking my every pore to get to my whiteheads and those darn clingy blackheads. It was all good I thought so I just went back to sleep.

A few minutes later I was roused again this time by a really excruciating pain on my forehead. In her soft-spoken manner she asked me to move my head a little to the right. Her voice would have had a calming effect if not for the piece of metal she was poking my face with.

This time around, Gemma was no longer applying soft, light pressure. She was actually using full force and even putting her full weight behind every pin-prick she applied. Did I mention that this soft-spoken woman was also a burly woman? Well, she was and she was all set to perform surgery on my face. I thought I heard the Zen-like meditative music segue to a death-metal piece. "Growwwwllll!!! Bring on the pain!!!!"

Well, this whole death-metal sequence went on for the next thirty minutes or so. It all became clear to me by then that torture had a name and it was Gemma.

I don't know what happened exactly but nowhere during that whole time did I find the courage to speak out and tell her that she was hurting me and that, maybe, she could go a little easier on my already pockmarked face. "Wag po ate, wag po."

Maybe, I was just a little embarrased after all she was just doing her job the best way she could considering the challenge before her that was my face. But, then again I think she didn't need to hear me say it anyway. I'm certain she saw the tears flowing from my eyes.

After some time, Gemma asked me, "Sir, ok lang ba lagyan ko ng anti-inflammatory." Funny she asked. My whole face was all puffed up by then. A transfusion of fresh plasma would have worked better.

We ended our session with the usual. She asked me if I wanted to see all the whiteheads and blackheads she removed. Normally, I'd be interested to see it out of an inherent curiosity for the bizzare but this time I declined. In the state I was in at that time I wasn't sure if I could handle the sight of huge chunks of chopped up facial matter.

At that point, my ears were again hearing the Zen-like music coming out of the speakers and I could also smell the scent of lavander. That was a good thing as it reminded me that I was still alive. I went to the lobby and paid for the treatment. I also left a P100 tip for Gemma.

Despite all the pain I endured, i can still say it was all good. My face now feels lighter by 1.42 lbs.