Saturday, June 13, 2009

the one with the gym

So, I got up this morning all groggy and heavy headed from last night's attempt to have a peaceful and quiet sleep which I didn't have. Of course, had I, I wouldn't have been bitching the whole day and talking to my mug - literally.

The day was almost over and I was planning on sneaking out earlier than I used to, but I didn't know what freakin' force got me to check on my pigeon hole at our secretary's office. And there it was...my bank statement.

Now, normally when I get my bank statement, I don't usually go ballisitic. But this time... Nagasaki went into pieces atomically speaking. Bombs dropping on my head would usually be when I get my Visa bill and ask myself, "What the hell were you thinking when you got that shirt? It's freakin' orange! You hate orange!"

The bomb on my bank statement was that every month (for 4 months), I got a debit from a gym class. A gym class. I don't go to the gym! I'm cancelling this account immediately. Tomorrow! As I recalled how did I got that gym subscription, turned out I checked on one of those boxes from the bank survey. Can you believe that? I'm so not falling into that survey crap anymore.

On a lighter note, I'm just not the gym kinda guy. Sure, a couple of times I did try to be one but playing basketball and just bristwalking on the corniche seems so much better than having to run your ass off the treadmill and punish yourself with butt clenches. More importantly, its because I stand by http://www.shirts.ph I stand by them when they said, "Ang tunay na lalaki ay may tiyan!" and "Bading lang ang ng gygym!"

http://www.shirts.ph - check out our cool, funny, offensive and loko-lokong shirts...we'll be glad you did...bili na bago pa mapirata!

Friday, June 12, 2009

the one with between now and then

Wants. Needs. Happiness. We suffer because of them. All of it...useless...

It is useles. Life is useless. We spend our life working and laboring, and what do we have to show for it? Generations come and generations go, but the world stays the same. The sun stil rises and it still goes down, going wearily back to where it must start all over again. Every river flows into the sea, but the sea will never be full. The water returns to where the river began and starts the thread of streaming all over again.

Everything leads to weariness. A weariness which words aren't ardent enough to explain. Our eyes can never see enough to be satisfied. What has happened before is bound to happen...again...

No one remembers what has happened in the past, and no one in the days to come will remember what happpens between now and then.

the one with getting back at it

It has been a while now since I last wrote an entry. It is safe to say that work has been eating up most of my time and my creative juices aren't that much of a help either. I could make million reasons and put them up into a list why I wasn't writing for the past two or three months but all of them would just sound lame.

But as of 1:19 am GMT+3 time, that is now, I just got the urge back. Feels good to be back scribbling, typing, hiting the keys... Writing has been one of my greatest passions in life. It has always been there yet I haven't really gotten a hold of it. That was why I included it in my bucket list for the year 2009. And that is why this Weekly Oz blog was created.

The entries to come are still of the same blend. A mix. A mash. Of truths, lies, and realities. I'm just welcoming back myself.

Friday, March 20, 2009

the one with the magi in al fahdli

I trekked on a journey with some of my students somewhere in the middle of the Kingdom and Kuwait. We arrived in Al Fhadli just before sundown.

Amidst the vast sand and the heat of the afternoon sun, I conquered my dessert quest. It was pure euphoria in the making as we stepped down from our trucks. Bench and I looked at each other and said, "This is worth the freakin' wait."

We met a couple of locals who are called Bedouins. With their broken English and our broken Arabic, we perfectly made sense with each other. Abu Mohammed introduced us to a Magi (pronounced as ma-ji). A Magi is a title given to a wise man. Abu Salim was his name. We circled around as Sultan prepared the traditional Arabic coffee served with dates. And Abu Salim started his talk. He ventured on topics of life and existence. The befores and the nows. He spoke straight Arabic which should have been difficult for me to understand but surprisingly, I surprised myself by getting a word or two and then ending up understanding the verse.

As the sit down was getting its way. The wind was getting its share of blowing. Abu Salim stood up and without a single word started his chant. We followed him and there as we crept out of our tent, the camels came from their long walk. It was just a sight to see.

Al Mujana Tent. This was the haven that we took shelter in.

Sultan, preparing the traditional Arabic coffee just before the sit down.

Al Magi. The wisdom of the old and the wise. Abu Salim as he was approaching Abood the camel.

The three wise men with the Mahjudin camels as they were comin back to their stables.

Abu Mohammed feeding them with water.

As the sun drew to a close, the perfect silhouette was cooking up by itself.


And the sun was stabbed by a dagger. Its blood ran down the vastness of the sand.

I went home later that night with an exhausted feet and a fulfilled heart. Nothing is more perfect than the experience I just had.

Tuesday, March 17, 2009

the one with the husband and wife

This find is probably the best real-time find that I personally have encountered. From the social networking web site that has literally killed friendster, facebook. This is the wall to wall of two of my childhood friends who made it as a couple.

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Dear Wife,

Happy Birthday!

Love,

Husband

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Dear Husband,

The greeting is very sweet but there is nothing sweeter than a gift.
I made a list of gifts that would be adequate to give on this special day of mine...

1. Flowers. Specifically tulips or roses. But if you can't remember either of those, any flower will do as I will just be excited to receive something at work that will make my coworkers think I must be a fabulous and deserving Wife. Please try to limit and/or eliminate the amount of fillers, ie: baby's breath (duh)

2. A weekend getaway. Your choice, as long does not involve Gaza, Afghanistan, or Lollywood. However, I doubt we'd be married if the aforementioned destinations excited you in the least.

3. Jewelry. You know what kind I like Husband. And if you don't, maybe you should stick with flowers.

4. Something memorable of our time together. I will be looking forward to the collection of movie stubs, restaurant receipts, and photos you've stored away over the years.

------------------------------------------

Dear Wife,

I dunno what you're taking in your office (I hope its not drugs), but you are hallucinating.

RAVI tonight? With some delicious spicy Pakistani food, then a stinkiest farting contest at home, after!

Cordially,
Husband

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Much thanks to Roy and Rose for making this public. It sure cranked up my day, wait...This was yesterday. Real cool. Hope you don't mind me sharing this. And, if its not too much to ask, what's Rose's reply to the latter? =)

Friday, March 13, 2009

the one with the mobile embassy

Mobile Embassy is a cause geared to reach out to the outskirts of the desserts to provide assistance in passport renewals and applications for all the Kabayans here in the mid-east.

I'm glad I got to be part of this cause. Here are some of my shots during that long, tiring but definitely fulfilling weekend.

"Waiting for that magic number to be called by the releasing officer."

"Looks like Manong's looking beyond the horizons."

"Feeding the stomach gods under the heat of the dessert."

"Small talks."

"Tatang Squared - Waiting in line.

"Tired. Exhausted. Hungry. Waiting on the the releases."

"Waiting in vain si ate."

"Sa wakas."

My knack for photography is still a work in a progress.

Friday, February 20, 2009

the one with why you shouldn't date a co-worker

I really do find this piece of mine interesting, not in a writer's selfish point of view but in a reader's point of view. But then again, I write for pleasure. And such is free from any contestation.

The One With Why You Shouldn't Date A Co-worker. Here they are.

1. That sweet look you give to each other. The ones that make your ear tingle a little bit. The ones that make you smile as you step into the elevator to get some copies your boss told you to get so. The ones that make you quickly check on the mirror to see if your gel is working. And yeah, totally not just for women, men as well. Stage 1. The Attraction.

2. This is where your entrepreneurship classes in college has its benefits. You try to bargain yourself. You have her number, but you try not to call her. You see her and then you try to look away. Then when she's not looking, you go back at you're seemingly endless daydreams of you and her. Stage 2. Bargaining.

3. As much as you hate deadlines, there will always be deathlines. And this is where you finally take and make the decision of asking her out. After a few laughs at the lobby, you probably would segway into having a drink with her sometime or a cup of coffee somewhere. Then, you have submitted. Stage 3. Submission.

4. This is the fun part when you date a co-worker. You'll get free snacks from the canteen. Or a cup of coffee early in the morning when you just stepped in the office. Or a hint on what's going to happen at the conference room coz she's been there. I've gotta say, it's like having a secretary at the same time. Real convenient. Stage 4. The Perks.

5. And as all the perks and the great convenience occur, this point emerges. The point where you feel agitated by the events. The coffees just keeps on coming. The snacks are neverending. And the assistance becomes annoying. In short, it all becomes overwhelming. Stage 5. The Tipping Point.

6. And the overwhelming continues. You feel like breaking it off with her but the feeling of "Uhhh, she's just so nice." just keeps you from not doing it. So you say to yourself, "Yeah, this'll workout. Couple more weeks." And by that you thought it'll all go away. And of course, you're wrong. Stage 6. Purgatory.

7. After a month or so in puragatory, it's time. You have all your lines ready for the next date. Of course you're not gonna break up with her at work, so a not so fancy restaurant would probably do justice. You get to your speech mode and you end up saying cliches like, "I need space." or "I need time." Blah blah blah. Stage 7. The Confrontation.

8. All is well after the break up. Work goes normal again for you. Of course you'll see her. If she's decent enough, a couple of hi's and hello's would be really nice. But if she harbors estranged emotions, then goodluck coz you're bound to see her everyday in the office. At gatherings. Birthdays of friends. And the list goes on. Stage 8. The Fall Out.

Wednesday, February 11, 2009

the one with Raj's Shehzadi

A place where modernity, traditions and religion often have their cruel clashes, is the place where my good friend Raj lives. I've known Raj for quite sometime now. This is his story.

While most of the people around us think that the reason why we left our mother countries is to earn more and for a greener pasteur, Raj didn't have that reason with him. He had a great job back home in Pakistan and great friends and family as well. So, what was the reason for leaving? His Shehzadi. Shehzadi in the native Urdu tongue means 'Princess'. Princess Lily. The mysterious equation of love that Raj found in Lily is the one that neither science nor man can possibly explain.

On one of the nights here in what we happily call our own version of Gitmo, Raj came by my pad, brought some smokes and sat down on the dirty green chair that I have been keeping for special occasions. His lines where, "What does it take to win your greatest love?"

My reply, "Raj, you gotta be fucking kidding me! How the hell should I know...I just lost mine." We laughed so hard until there was that moment of silence. "My family has made their decision. It was final and irrevocable. I can't have Lily." Raj left his home to escape from being served with this reality. Ethnicity, race and social status play a vital role in Raj's home. Of course there are occasional stories of love against all the odds but the thing is it is frowned upon. And the issues of honoring your family more than anyone is a brutal pin in his society.

A couple of days ago, Raj and I shared a cup of coffee and a joint of Cubanos. The usual "What's up man?" and the usual "Same shit. Different day." were uttered. I asked him about how is he holding up with things. "Lily is engaged."

Raj's Shehzadi has gotten engaged over a guy whom her family picked for her. On the night of the engagement, Lily sent Raj a message to please call her. He called. She answered. "The bells are ringing. The smiles are all wide. The best wishes are real. The gifts are extravagant. The groom is a great man. But, my tears are falling for you. It will only be for you."

Raj's silence was deafening. Lily's sob was excruciating. The mystery equation of love has been tried and solved for over a billion times. Only a few have succeeded.

Monday, February 2, 2009

the one with the ads & announcements

The SANDWITCHES: Snapped at Sharq Hotel (Sharq is an Arabic word meaning East) Guess there are witches in the east then.

The Airconditioning is good and the TIRES are almost new. Way to go selling your car dude.

The best thing about Bangladeshi used goods shop is this. One PES is not enough!

Another one from Sharq Hotel. A good way of INFORMING customers ey... Uhh, YFI, UFO has GTG!

It's definitely NEW BRAND.

Tuesday, January 27, 2009

the one with the slumdog millionaire

Strange was what I called it when I first heard of the title.

Blank was my feeling when I knew that it won the best picture award in recently concluded Golden Globes.

Astonished was my reaction when I knew that it was given a staggering 10 nominations in the Oscar Awards.

Bloody fucking brilliant were the first words that came out of my mouth after watching the film.

the one with the racist poem

This poem was nominated by UN as the best poem of
2006, Written by an African Kid

When I born, I black
When I grow up, I
black
When I go in Sun, I black
When I scared, I black
When I sick, I
black
And when I die, I still black

And you white fellow
When you born, you pink
When you grow up, you white
When you go in sun, you red
When you cold, you blue
When you scared, you yellow
When you sick, you green
And when you die, you
gray

And you
calling me colored?

I was figuratively laughing my brains out when I got to read this. Thanks to Amir for the find.

Saturday, January 24, 2009

the one with the flu

I'm down with the flu. My creative juices are all dried up. I screamed at one of my students for deliberately asking "absent, present teacher?" That's all they ever care.

And in this piece of lump that I'm in right now, I still get ot be thankful for a lot of things. The Salmon Ressoto @ Sizzler's House, Hawaii Blue Freeze and DKNY for giving me yet another impulsive buy - to hell with it.

And oh, to ass up, I mean add up another thing. Finals week is fast approaching, marking and grading is again on the prowl. The best damn thing about being a lecturer.

Halo-halo na nga ito. I'm all shaken up. All mixed up.

Wednesday, January 21, 2009

the one with the black house



I'm not an american. But I still get thank you's shadowing over my head. On a serious note, thanks because I'm still alive to witness this kind of historic event even if it meant I just had to watch it on televiion.

But what I'm really thankful for is that finally - movies like Deep Impact and tv series like 24 will finally have a touch of reality. For the past years, it has either been a big freaking meteor or a really corrupted federal system in order for a black president to be on board the white house.

The arrival of Barack couldn't be any more resounding. Innovation is not rejected but it must be watched. The world will be watching. I will be watching. Let's all witness the white house turn into black.

the one with sabado nights



Sabado nights is just too much for me. I probably had the biggest crush on Ina Raymundo for like ages. To me, she was that one dream. The dream that was made by San Miguel Beer.

This one is a definite classic. One for the books. This was a trend setter way back during the 90's. Clubs were outfitted to fit the Sabado Nights image. Concert scenes drastically changed. Music came as a revolver. In short, it was the renaissance.

I just had to share this find.

Sunday, January 18, 2009

the one with the alarm clock

Officially, this morning was my first time to be credited late in any work outfit that I have ever worked with. The feeling - SUCKS! Bigtime!

Thoughts to ponder:

- Never underestimate the capacity of your alarm clock to fail. Alarm clocks have a mind of their own. Treat them well and they'll function well. Don't throw them away or hit them hard when they start ringing. Patience is a virtue.

- Also, never understimate the capacity of your mobile phone, which is set as an alarm, to move and go under your pillows. When this happens, you will not be able to hear 30 Seconds To Mars' Beautiful Lie. Treat them nice as well, they have a more morbid mind than the traditional alarm clock.

- Lastly, never underestimate the capacity of your television to wake you up. Even if you check the sleep and awake menu, they have a tendency to act as if no one needs them at six in the morning.

Morals:

No morals here. Just the plain and simple truth of blaming other things when one gets tremendously screwed up.

I hate you Al Marai freebie alarm clock!
I hate you Nokia N82!
I hate you TV!

Tuesday, January 13, 2009

the one with the sin

I've got to admit this entry has a lil' something to do with the ending of the last one. Anyway, part of our daily routines and activities is probably getting pieces of advice. We get it from our ol' men, from bosses, from feeling bosses, from friends, from officemates, and even from books. The latter is like so overrated. I'm not a fan of self help books like rearranging your lifestyle, the healthy diet and blah blah blah.

I was browsing through some websites and images tonight. Sort of my daily routine to check on my faves. I stumbled on pages talking about how life is so short. Then from pluto, I figured out to make a list on my top 10 most influencial quotes on life. Here's what I came up.

My Top 10 Most Influential Quotes On Life
by: fatboyslim

10. Life is too short. Eat dessert first.
09. Life is too short. Walk butt naked.
08. Life is too short. Drink and be merry.
07. Life is too short. Cease the day.
06. Life is too short. Be malicious.
05. Life is too short. Deal with it.
04. Life is too short. Don't settle for cheap wine.
03. Life is too short. Diss traffic.
02. Life is too short. Seduce me. Now!

And on top of the chart. Numero Uno!

01. Life is too short. Sin a little!

These are my greatest influences. This is reality.

Monday, January 12, 2009

the one with one in a billion

I had a chat with an old friend today. It was like nostalgia talking to her. Highschool days. And more of high school days. The chat lead to questions like marriage and stuff. So funny coz we were on the same boat.

The boat of keeping the faith in fate. Fathom - as the greeks would call it over a thousand years ago, commonly referred to as destiny by the human tapestry of our times, is the sole reason for our being. The reason for God. The reason for humanity. The reason for life itself.

Amidst the billions of souls, destiny believes in the connection of lives. The connection that gives us that one in a billion chance.

Though destiny seems to be complete, I believe that it is the better half of choice. After all, life is simple. We make choices. And we never look back. Not that simple though.

Sunday, January 11, 2009

the one with the eraserheads reunion cd

It was approximately two years ago when I met "VALIUM" at http://www.bangag.com/. She and I made great conversations. I was so interested in her first post at bangag. It was about her favorite band and favorite song. Eraserheads is the band. Huwag Kang Matakot is the song.

Valium became a reminder to me. Her thoughts became a shadowing reminder of how I was introduced to Ely, Raymund, Marcus and Buddy - the Eraserheads.

I was a kid, barely thirteen years old, walking up to the gates of St. Paul's University in Dumaguete. My only concerns that time were playing and taking good care of my G.I. Joe collection, especially Mercer and Muskat. On one regular school day, I went home by myself on a ride in a pedicab. Arrived home, and did my homework so I could watch Alaska's Johnny A, Jolas and Bong Hawkins later that night. Mama arrived early that night at around six and traditionally, I kissed her hands.

She and Papa were talking intently at the dining area. I wondered why. Then both of them approached me and said to me, "We have a gift for you." Like Santa's favorite kid, I was really excited. I opened the package that they handed to me. It contained Ultraelectomagneticjam, Circus and Cutterpillow. At least those were the words that I read. All album titles of Eraserheads. I wasn't the very delighted kid when I found out what the gift was.

I went to my room, opened the first tape and listened...

After fourteen years and continuing, I haven't stopped listening to the Eraserheads. The band that caused the surge for me to shift from the kid I was to the man I am. Much thanks are in order to mama and papa. The coolest ones that a kid could ever have.

I once made a bold comment almost two years ago at one of Valium's post in Bangag. I reckoned, this decade will never be complete without an Eraserheads Reunion Concert. I wasn't wrong. And though I wasn't there to witness them play their hearts out live again, the thought of knowing that my bold statement came to reality was more than enough.

Thanks to Orick for bringing me the Reunion Concert CD. Priceless. Priceless. Priceless.

Saturday, January 10, 2009

the one with the x'mas snapshots

The Grinch
The Grim Brothers: Paul and Andrei
Abigail's not getting what she wants for Christmas...
Kim, Dhaffu, Jayson and Kriz

Friday, January 9, 2009

the one with my cousin dheif

"Dheif, you're not going to complain. I told you to sleep in the afternoon and you didn't. Now, you're grumpy and you don't have the right to complain."

"Ahhh, mom! Stop bugging me. You...you...I---- (pauses for a while and thinks that Idiot is a prison cell for him if he says it)....You PEANUT BUTTER!"

Moral Lesson: Kids, find a cheesy word to subsitute for a real nasty one to get by being grounded.

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"Dheif, you gotta drink your milk. There are lots of kids out there who doesn't even have milk to drink. You should feel lucky."

"Yeah, yeah... I know mom...Kids like my cousin Keisha back home in the Philippines."

----------

Dheif went home for the first time in the Philippines. He was brought by Uncle Danny to his old Grandpa's native house. Native houses in the Philippines, especially the in the rural areas have that traditional bamboo floors and that steep staircase made of wood.

Upon entering the house, after that grueling climb on the steep wooden staircase, he exclaimed looking down at the see-through bamboo floor - "OH MY GOD DADDY! WHAT HAPPENED TO THEIR CARPET!"

----------

Two years ago, they went back home again. This time, they stayed at my place in Dumaguete. Our neighbors got the hang of him. He was like real famous around the block, a kid walking and chattering the dark "L-ed" native american tongue.

In the afternoons, Tito Cooper, who just lives next door, who also happens to have a daily dose of my favorite rhum, always asks him. "How's your day Dheif?" Dheif goes, "T'was fine." or "T'was great."

This happened almost everyday. On one of these days, he was asked again. But before Tito Cooper could finish his routined question, Dheif goes...."Yeah, yeah, I know...How was my day blah blah...T'was great! There. Happy?"

----------

There are more stories about my cousin Dheif. I'll have to recall all of them first. Hang in there. This kid's comin' back for more.

the one with the catching up

So, it has been six days that I haven't written on this blog. I'm beginning to sound and look like papers coz all I have done for the week were paperworks. I could have chosen not to be in the Benchmarking Team, but I chose to be in it. I didn't know why I did but for sure the reasons will just come flowing after I get my paycheck for this month.

Yesterday, was the regular meeting of the 4th session of the team. We met, argued, and debated on entries. But at the end, the laughs were the most memorable ones.

Arguing on a single comma, when to use and/or, and how many spaces do we need to skip if a period is committed. Sounds like real petty, but these are the things that pay the bills. And these are the things that make us smile and laugh at the end.

Sunday, January 4, 2009

the one with friendship

My journey to other countries had taught me one great thing. Friendship. It's not about the color, race or culture. It may be about common grounds but there's more to it.

My first year abroad was a disaster or so I thought it was. When I was first introduced to my first foreign officemate Rudolph, a South African, I figuratively didn't know where to start and how to open conversations. Good thing he smokes though, coz on the first day at work, we shared a cup and a joint of reds. And I brought with me something new to the table, my Marlboro Reds Softpack. He said let me see that. Then he said, why not the fliptop one? I replied, I never got to like the taste of fliptops. Softpacks satisfy my craving for destroying my precious air bags. Then we laughed at it. And then everything just kept on going.

The conversation went a long way, took us even a while to notice that we have exceeded the 15 minute break limit. Music was definitely a hitter, and we hit it off from there. The following days, he brought some of his collections of mp3's as I did. We chattered about why Kurt Cobain shot his brains out. Why Anthony Keidis of the Red Hot Chilli Peppers didn't attend the funeral of his former bandmate who OD'd on heroin. And we even made a list of the must haves that we didn't have during that time. The list contained Sonic Death Monkeys, The Clash, and Sonic Youth.

Then the office and break chatters went on a level higher. Kicking it off to a roadtrip to Bahrain. How did that go: BLAST! Except for the drugs, we had girls, booze and violence rolled into one. One hell of a roadtrip. Huraah!

Shortly after that, Rudolph had to leave the company for some greener pasteurs. We exchanged mails and contacts. I wished him luck on his new journey and gave him a pair of sneakers for him to use as he ventures yet another journey. He left me a book entitled, Danny Boy by Joan Goodwin and it had a dedication on it that said:

"Marky, friendship is an involuntary reflex. Thanks for the reflexes."

I read the book later on. And I dropped my jaws. The book said a lot about us. Our escapades, though shortlived, were off the hook. To us, race didn't matter. Age didn't matter. Culture didn't matter.

Friday, January 2, 2009

the one with the getting over

This will not be about the 5 stages of grief. Trust me.

Getting over is probably the cherry on top of the other cherry on top of that really delicious mango tango ice cream at Baskin and Robbins. It's the one that you would want to save and eat later but you don't have any choice but to eat it first coz it's the one that glares at you first.

As the great Barney Stinson say, men can't truly get over a girl, not until we can no longer picture her in our heads. Our brain is a hard drive. And in a relationship, the fun filled memories stands out most of the times. Pictures of eating out with her, sleeping all day, taking a shower together, spending the day at a beach, picking her up at her place and hanging out with her cool friends. These are the picture slides that are saved on our hard drive. These are the ones which are embedded with our favorite music track, which is also her favorite track, perhaps Bleeding Love by Leona Lewis. And on top of this, her naked pictures. The ones which are so hard to delete and click ok to continue. They are called bpegs (boobpegs et.al Barney Stinson.) If these are still saved and tucked in a folder, they will forever haunt you. These bpegs will stay forever. And even if these are deleted, the recycle bin will always be there, always a click away to have a glimpse of those bpegs again.

Unless we truly get to completely delete them, the getting over part will always remain the getting over part. We have to wake up on day number 28 and smell the pancakes again.

the one with the introduction

Halo-Halo: Mixed, Mashed and Blended...Just the way you like it. I'm a big mashed potato fan. Everytime I get to eat out at my favorite resto-grill Sizzler's, I always get that extra side dish of mashed potatoes. It's a craving that I have developed since my aunt Tita introduced it to me. She was like the Elle that almost caught Sylar.


This is a collection of anecdotes. Ones that I personally have encountered. It's a mix, a mash, a blend of truth, lies, reality, and sureal day to day encounters.


Have a peak of what Halo-Halo is.