July 9, 2006 at 2:43 am | Filed under bitchin' a ride, made in the Philippines, technicolor lover
In all my years of taking cabs to get from one place to another, I can only count two aggravating instances that made me wish I had:
- an airgun
- superhero powers (so I could fucking knockout Mr Cab Driver and leave without a trace)
- my own car so I wouldn’t have to hail another cab– EVER
- my own boyfriend (one who is available 24/7) with his own car and willing to drive me anywhere and everywhere
As luck would have it, tonight had to be the third.
It started with me half-wobbling from my building to the main road— 100 meters of sucking on a cigarette and carefully avoiding puddles because I was wearing my new pink satin slingbacks, damnit. And I was late, so double damnit.
I finally reached Katipunan Avenue, stopping across Starbucks where I usually flag down cabs. I didn’t last five seconds— suddenly all these Katipunan Street Adolescents flocked towards me. “Ma’am, taxi, ma’am?” I CAN FUCKING HAIL A CAB ON MY OWN, THANK YOU VERY MUCH. I don’t need you to get me one, in exchange for five pesos. Do you know what I can buy for five pesos??? Two sticks of Marlboro Reds, that’s what!
So I walked, no, SAUNTERED away from them. They threw some snide remarks at my direction LIKE THEY FUCKING MATTER.
I finally hailed an empty cab. I climb in and tell the driver to take me to Ayala Avenue. He tells me to add 30 bucks on top of whatever the fare would amount to— “because it’s already nighttime”. SO?
Filipino cab drivers are greedy little asshats, did you know that? My professor in International and Globalized Economy was once faced with a cab driver who asked for an extra 50 pesos. He (my professor) boldly suggested: “If you want, I’d even make it 70 pesos”, much to Mr Cab Driver’s embarrassment. It’s all about giving back the burden. Or something.
Tonight, I did not have that luxury (of giving back the burden, since I had gone shopping with my commission money yesterday after work), so I opened the cab door, stuck one leg out, and said “NEVERMIND”.
Cab driver takes it back. I retrieve my leg from the concrete, shut the door and tell him the route to take: Let’s pass through SANTOLAN-EDSA.
We not-so-merrily roll along. When we hit Katipunan extension, he goes “Let’s pass through Araneta”.
“NO. I SAID LET’S TAKE SANTOLAN-EDSA, IT’S QUICKER THAT WAY.”
We reach the intersection where we’re supposed to take a right to get to goddamn Santolan-EDSA. I had to tell the idiot to take take a right, as it was obvious he was planning on going straight ahead for reasons BEYOND me.
For the past THREE MONTHS, I’ve been taking a cab to get to work EVE-RY-DAY. So I know that it only costs 130 to 150 pesos— and nothing more— from Katipunan to PBCom.
Imagine my surprise (and pure pure loathing) when I noticed that the cab meter was already at 190 pesos— and we haven’t even hit Ayala yet! Surprise and pure pure loathing was to be followed by giddiness. I check my wallet, glad that I had a 100-peso and a 50-peso bill.
We pull over to the PBCom bus/jeepney/cab bay. The meter was at 220. I hand him the 150, tell him that I take a cab everyday from Katipunan to Ayala and it never exceeds 150 pesos, and he should have his fucking meter checked. He holds my money, looks at me with his mouth slightly open (surprised that I wasn’t a dumb twit who’d willingly hand over her hard-earned cash to a sleaze like him, perhaps?) while I step out of his cab, shut the door gently and walk away.
But really. You know what’s really hateful? It’s SATURDAY NIGHT AND I HAVE WORK. The big boss asked me out again (for drinks and World Cup) and I had to turn him down NOT because D would get mad :roll:, but because I had work.
And I prettied myself up for work D (skinny jeans, funky top with the neckline sliced off, pink heels— a welcome change, since I’ve been looking shabby this past week) and it turns out he’s on leave for the day. HE DIDN’T TELL ME!
(Well, he claims he did. He actually did tell me he was applying for an incentive leave— I just didn’t know it was for today!)
Grumble grumble. :blah:
EDIT!
I was whining to D about him not coming in for work. More like giving him a hard time. He has a game later this afternoon AND WHAT IS HE DOING RIGHT NOW! DRINKING, that’s what!
I just got back from my break and here’s a message that was waiting for me in my phone:
Everytime you scream at me, I wanna kiss you. Everytime you touch me, I wanna hug you cos you’re so damn sexy when you’re mad!
Cheesiness. He said he was the one who wrote the chorus for Neyo :lolol:
July 6, 2006 at 9:38 am | Filed under joyful girl, technicolor lover
And last night’s “It’s The Hottest Thing Evaaarrrr (Too Bad I Don’t Have a Pictarrr)” eeeeez!: D shirtless and sprawled on my bed, his lips puckered and his forehead scrunched up as he plays a game of Free Cell. He sucks at it, though, and everytime I’d try to help him out (cos you know, I rule at Free Cell :D), he’d shush me. :blush:
I’m aware that all I’ve been writing about lately is D. It’s not because I’m absolutely smitten by him (just kinda)— it’s just that we’ve been spending a lot of time together, especially with his girlfriend out of town for who knows how long. SRSLY. Last week, he was at my condo 3 nights out of 5. He sleeps over when we both don’t have work. And then he drops by that same night, too.
For some reason, it irks me that his phone’s wallpaper is a photo of his girlfriend, when it used to be a Superman logo until some days ago. Makes me want to put up photos all over my studio of me with boys from my past. :kissy:
Yes, we’re playing a game here.
The only downside about the whole thing (NOT counting the fact that he’s cheating on his girlfriend and I’m a bad bad person for not resisting, and the “agreement” that I’m not allowed to date) is that I’m gaining weight. I’M SO FAT. All D and I do is eat, eat, and eat. I don’t even have time to overdose on laxatives cos he’s always there.
We live almost decadently: eat out, sleep in. I’m oversexed and overfed. Oh. And overworked. :cute:
July 3, 2006 at 3:30 am | Filed under a waste of human capital, ditz drivel, technicolor lover
Two sounds I dread to hear the most: my phone’s alarm going off (Britney Spears’ I Love Rock N Roll— the polyphonic version), and an Avaya beep (signalling that I have to put on my headset, un-mute my phone, deliver my spiel, and deal with some idiot Caucasian. I swear to God, I don’t get it— why call telesales, why even THINK of purchasing something over the phone when you damn well know you DON’T have a credit card?).
Ahem. Anger-be-gone.
Two sounds I love to hear the most: D knocking on my door at 10pm (Yay! He’s finally here!), and some non-idiot Caucasian with a bill to account voice telling me “I’d like to add a new line to my account/I’d like to set up an account.”
Two things I FUCKING HATE waking up to: my phone’s alarm, and hearing this fucktard from my building butcher Broadway songs with his nasal half-baritone half-tenor and blood-curdling vocal gymnastics.
Two things I love waking up to: D stretching and flexing (LOL) his biceps beside me and then watching him look around my studio before slinging an arm over my head to pull me in closer, and.. Oh what the hell. D. He twitches in his sleep! :cute:
Just two for today. I smuggled coffee out of the pantry to my workstation and now I’m dying for a cigarette.
Pacquiao won against Larios (OMG, did you guys see the tassles on Pacquiao’s shoes??? HILARIOUS. Like a village fiesta, or a Wright Park/Quiapo horse!), eTelecare lost against Infonxx. At a little past six pm, D sent me a message: “Hmp we lost”. Aww, poor baby. :(
I DIDN’T WATCH HIS GAME, BY THE WAY. Not because I had rather see Pacquiao beat the shit out of Chololo(ooo), but because I knew his girlfriend would be there, and because D did not volunteer the idea that I go fangirl over him.
Apparently, he did not “invite” me because I had sort of made it clear that watching a basketball game on a Sunday afternoon was far worse than, say, going to church. Which is true, to some extent.
Oh. And his girlfriend’s out of town. So.
I start channeling Mary-Kate Olsen TODAY. I eat more than a 6′3″ man, and I’m like, 5′2.5″. D and I had brunch at Shakey’s before his game and I had three pieces of chicken, two slices of pizza, and lots of mojos. All D had was pizza (the remaining 6 slices) and mojos. HELLO, CASTOR OIL.
June 29, 2006 at 9:51 am | Filed under technicolor lover
D has a basketball game this Sunday (our call center versus another call center) and I want to watch.
Except his girlfriend’s probably gonna be there.
(AND OMG, I WAS TYPING THIS AND HE POPPED OUT FROM BEHIND ME TO KISS ME GOOD-BYE COS I’M ABOUT TO LOG OFF AND HE’S ABOUT TO HEAD TO THE LOUNGE FOR A NAP, OMG. I JUST ABOUT COVERED THE SCREEN WITH MY HAND, BUT HE SAW IT AND HE’S LIKE “THERE YOU GO AGAIN, WHO’S THAT WHAT’S THAT.” And then he flashes me the cuuuuutest smile.)
What’s a girl to do but ask for another kiss? ;)<3
June 27, 2006 at 8:52 am | Filed under joyful girl, technicolor lover
Three things D and I fought about this weekend:
o1. Surfer Boy back in the country.
o2. My wearing a bikini during the Titan BEACH trip.
o3. My going off to the beach at night with a (male) co-worker.
It gets frustrating. But we’re okay now! <3 We've reached an understanding. I told him he was being unfair, that we didn't have a commitment, that he has a gilfriend, and that I'm gonna end up the loser with our set-up (I had to muster enough courage to say that because I'm sad like that. So. Thanks, Kurant and Schlagger!). He replied, saying that from the very start, he's been honest with his situation (well, duh) and that he spends time with me whenever he can, and that he always makes sure that I feel taken care of when we're together. “Right?”
Had I been using my brain that night, I would’ve replied with a “Well, that’s not enough.” But anyway.
It was a serious fight, yo. We were ignoring each other, communicating only with our phones. Well, more like he was the one ignoring me. He wouldn’t even answer my calls or look at me, even though I was justrightinfrontofhim.
So there I was, sitting on a pool recliner IN THE RAIN and ranting to two of my team mates over alcohol. D was in the pool having a grrrand time which pissed me off the more. After emptying the bottles of alcohol, I jumped into the pool and forced him to be nice to me.
We make up and I physically latch on to him for the remainder of the night :D. Everyone was looking at us (surprise surprise) cos I was on his back and we’d hug and I’d sneak in a kiss on his cheek every now and then. Of course, the perpetual (very showbiz) excuse: “We’re close friends, and Helga’s really affectionate like that”, since his friends were asking why he didn’t take advantage of me :P
So we’re both very jealous people, except I lose since he has a girlfriend. Sooo. I can’t date or sleep with other guys. So. Umm. It’s the No Dating rule that I’m iffy about since Surfer Boy’s back and he asked me out for drinks last Friday night.
Yes, I’m aware I’m being disgustingly foolish. :)
Hi, my name's Helga Weber and welcome to my personal site. I'm 23. My first socio-political scandal will happen at the age of 35 and will include men, sushi, an African country, and lots of money. My lover is the greatest. 
