Not all of you know that my dad had a stroke a little over five years ago. He's unable to raise his left arm higher than his shoulders, his left hand is virtually immobile, and he can only use his left leg to march, which means he walks in an awkward way all the time.

Now he recently acquired a car with power windows that will go all the way up or down with a mere flick of the switch. He wanted that feature since he can only use one hand. He figured that there's no sense wasting time waiting for the windows to go all the way up.

Last night, he went out with some friends. After dinner, he got in the car while his friends were still dicking around near the restaurant entrance. He grew impatient and did the following (in this order):

1. Flicked the switch to close the window.
2. Decided he wanted to hurry up his friends.
3. Put his right hand out the window (His left hand is immobile, remember?) to wave his friends to the car.

It was too late when he realized the stupidity of those actions. The window was almost all the way up, and he was not fast enough to get his hand out of the way. Needless to say, his hand got stuck.

You can just imagine the trouble he was in at this point--his one good hand stuck in the window, his seat belt on, and him sitting in an awkward way. He was trapped in his own car. He flapped his hand to call attention to no avail. He attempted to take a bite at the door lock hoping to get it to open, but he couldn't reach it because of the seat belt.

Then, in a moment of desperation and a rare display of flexibility, he got his right knee high enough to slam the car horn and honk it like crazy. His friends heard him and managed to push the window down and extricate him from his predicament. It's a good thing he wasn't alone in a secluded part when this happened or he'd win a prize from Guinness for the silliest way to die.

Don't worry, he's safe. No injuries to his hand or mouth--just a bruised ego.

UPDATE: I got my dad to do a reenactment this morning.

Cats may look intelligent--ancient Egyptians who worshipped them as gods probably thought so--but looks can be deceiving. In my experience, cats are really stupid stupid creatures, especially when it comes to avoiding cars. Most of the roadkill I've seen on the roads of Metro Manila are cats.

Dogs get hit by cars too sometimes, but at least they try their best to scamper across streets quickly. Cats don't. They prefer leisurely strolls. Occasionally, they'd even stop and take a nap right in the middle of the road... like this one did on a lazy afternoon last week.

I almost ran over the little thing. I had to slam on my brakes and bring the car to a stop a few feet away from its sleepy head. The screech startled it and woke it up from its nap, but it just stared at me and showed absolutely no intention to leave.

I couldn't go around it because some genius decided to park his truck on one side of the already narrow street. So I flashed my headlights and honked the horn a few times. Of course that didn't work.

Desperate and more than a bit annoyed, I got out of the car, charged towards the cat, and barked. Yes, barked. "Arf! Arf!" Good thing there wasn't anyone around to see me acting like a complete retard.

The little monster finally got up and walked away very slowly, pausing every few steps to stare at me with utter contempt. I stared back. Ah, there's nothing like a little afternoon confrontation to remind me how much I hate cats.

I still love lolcats though.

I was tagged by Juice. I'm usually too lazy to do these blog memes, but I haven't posted anything in days, so I guess I'll give this one a go.

1. What was I doing 10 years ago?

I was just starting my freshman year in college and discovering the joys of cutting classes.

2. What are five things on my to-do list today?

I don't have five things on my to-do list. I'm a bum. I do whatever I feel like doing.

3. Snacks I enjoy:

A better question would be: What snacks don't I enjoy?

4. Places I've lived:

I've lived in Metro Manila for most of my life. I spent four years of my early childhood in Douliou (back when it was not yet a city) and another three years in Taipei. I was in Yokohama for six weeks a few years ago.

5. Things I'd do if I were a billionaire:

I have a serious answer for this one. I would do what Mark Cuban did when he got his billion bucks: buy an NBA franchise.

It would be so much fun to sit behind the bench and bury my face in my hands as my team chokes at the first sign of pressure. Oh wait, that's just Mark Cuban's idea of fun. My team wouldn't suck as much as his does.

6. People I want to know more about:

Lord Jesus. And Lord Xenu. And of course the people I'm tagging (in alphabetical order): Carnifex, Lizz, Neko-chan, Paolo, Philos.

Having woken up really late and needing to be at the office pronto, I found it necessary to take a cab to work yesterday morning. And that experience led to this post, which is also partly inspired by Dianne's (and apparently her clan's) new blog.

Allow me to present exhibits A to D.

Exhibit A is a broken seatbelt, which was among the first broken things that I observed. So inasmuch as I was in a hurry, this was one driver I did not want hurried up. I soon found to both my relief and chagrin (What can I say? It was a mixed emotion.) that he didn't seem to be interested in speed anyway. In fact, he decided to visit a gasoline station with the meter running.

Exhibit B is a rather hazy picture of his instrument panel. You don't need a dSLR photo to figure out that all the gauges are mere decorations. How he could tell that he needed gasoline is totally beyond me. Oh yeah, the photo was hazy because I took it while the car was moving to show you that the speedometer wasn't.

Exhibit C is a photo of his car radio, or where it's supposed to be. I wonder what happened to it seeing as he doesn't mind displaying broken gauges.

Exhibit D is a sticker above the glove compartment right in front of the passenger seat. It reads, "Ambulance hotline: 635-HELP." Yep, not very reassuring, is it?

The driver stuck to a leisurely pace the whole trip. Maybe he was mindful of the high price of gasoline and was trying to save a few pesos. I was really pissed off by the time I got to my destination--so much so that I was happy to leave him stuck in the hospital driveway, which was congested thanks to two armored cars, a few other cabs, and people in wheelchairs.

Smiling smugly, I headed to the elevator. It wasn't until I was halfway there that my satisfaction turned into consternation. My phone wasn't in my pocket! I did a Flash (or as close to it as I possibly could) and managed to get to the cab just before it pulled away. Thank heavens for handicapped people blocking the driveway.

The moral of the story is: don't take a cab if you're late anyway... unless you're going to blog about it.

On my way to Philos's birthday dinner last Friday, I came to a stop at a traffic light along Ortigas Avenue. As luck would have it, I was right beside an open manhole.

I should have just ignored it. Open manholes aren't uncommon around here--thieves regularly steal manhole covers and sell them as scrap metal. But I suddenly remembered a funny true story. A few years ago, someone I know fell into one such hole while wading through a flooded Binondo street on a dark rainy night. (He didn't die, so it's okay to laugh at him.)

I decided to blog about that, so I rolled down the window and took a picture. That turned out to be a bad move. Apparently, this particular manhole is right above the sewers. And I'm sure you know what's in the sewers. I desperately tried to close the window, but it was too late. Within seconds, my car was filled with the stench of rotting poop straight from Satan's concrete anus, and my Friday evening was off to a stinky start.

In full panic mode, I opened the passenger side window in an attempt to let the smell out. That turned out to be yet another bad move. The old SUV beside me quickly pumped its sooty exhaust fumes straight in. Again, the stupid power window wouldn't close fast enough.

By now, I was gagging and gasping while my poor nostrils were being assaulted by both natural and artificial stink gases. Where are those sampaguita-selling street urchins when you need them?

In the end, I buried my face in my left armpit and sniffed the deodorant until the traffic light turned green. I think I got a little high from that, but at least I didn't pass out. Yay.

I just came back from a reconnaissance mission, and it seems that the Chicken Mafia has serious competition. Now, all I can do is report what I've seen and heard, and I'll try to keep it short and to the point.

It all started a little over a week ago when Joyfulchicken alerted me to this seemingly innocent event, a supposed party for losers. But they weren't fooling me--I knew that only the Chicken Mafia cares about losers. So I did what any good soldier would do under the circumstances. I put on my human suit and went behind enemy lines.

That is a likeness of me taken by one of their skilled agents, but worry not my dear Mafiosos, I managed to steal the original and thus am the only one with the hard copy.

So here's the gist of the meeting as I understand it. David and Goliath, a shadowy organization masquerading as a T-shirt company, put on a party and tried to invite all the top losers they could get their hands on. Masked in a night of mad revelry, they systematically tried to win these losers over with various tactics, including the following:

1. A PowerPoint presentation with pure text and a maniacal voice over. It was obviously a means to implant subliminal messages in our minds. I have yet to undergo debriefing to find out exactly what they managed to implant in my head. (Video removed because of potentially harmful hypnotic effects.)

2. A game that necessitated ass kissing. (Okay, Mr. Fartface kissing... see if you like that one better.)

3. A losers dating game. What? A dating game? And not just any dating game... a dating game that included me! Sure, I'm a loser, but I'm not that much of a loser, am I? I looked over to Joyfulchicken for help to get me out of it, but he had apparently been brainwashed by the PowerPoint presentation. Abandoned by my comrades, all I could do was try to resist the bribes the evil henchmen were offering me.

That photo was taken at home while I was gleefully inspecting my spoils, so clearly I failed. Sorry, you'll have to check out these other blogs for pictures and recaps, because I can't bear to be reminded of my utter humiliation.

David and Goliath sure was crafty. They even employed goons from SPIT to do their dirty job. I was laughing so hard that I almost forgot why I was there in the first place. And their tagline is "we make stupid stuff so you don't have to." Need I say more? They're clearly trying to take over the world... or at least our niche of making stupid stuff!

We must find a way to defeat them... but of course not before I go buy myself something nice with the gift certificate they gave me.

Question of the day: if you take a 30-minute nap at 11 PM and wake up six hours later, can you still legally call it a nap?

Yes, yes, I took a nap at 11 PM last night. I know that sounds stupid, but I was very tired, okay? It had been a long day. Well, not really, but it felt long because I only had around an hour of sleep before waking up at 8 AM to catch game 6 of the unexpectedly exciting Celtics-Hawks series.

In the afternoon, rain started pouring down moments after ArsenaL and I got to flag football practice late. Well, that sucked. And I was so eager to get back on the field after a three-week hiatus. I badly needed the exercise; my "beer" belly ("beer" is in quotes because I don't even drink beer) seems to be growing a bit more each day. It would have been fine if not for the fact than I'm as thin as a stick, and my bulging belly makes me look like an Ethiopian orphan (totally not cool unless Angelina Jolie would adopt me). The last thing I need is adding body image issues to my long list of mental problems.

Anyway, we watched Iron Man at SM Megamall and had dinner at Teriyaki Boy. I hadn't watched a movie at Megamall in years, and I'm happy to report that the place still sucks ass. They have the most uncomfortable seats with strangely sticky armrests (please let that be just a result of spilled soda... please).

I got home at around 10:30 PM and quickly got drowsy. So I set the alarm on my cell phone to go off in 30 minutes and plopped down face first on the bed. I was asleep in seconds.

I've recently replaced my cell phone's ugly rubber casing with a smooth plastic one. It looks great, but it also made the phone a bit slippery. The thing now slides randomly across my night table whenever it vibrates, which is what happens when the alarm goes off. Last night, as I sleepily groped around in an attempt to chase it down and stop the alarm, I apparently managed to somehow hit the remote control of my air conditioner enough times to turn the temperature all the way down to 16°C. Brrr.

At a little past 5 AM, I woke up shivering like an Ethiopian orphan with malaria. I had to run and make myself a steaming cup of instant coffee, which is quite a silly thing to do on a summer morning. But I'm all warmed up now, and I feel great. That 30-minute nap really did the trick.

* * *

(Whee! Snowflakes!)

Fuck! I knew it! Iron Man has a bonus scene after the end credits! Can't believe I missed it. Fuck.

* * *

(Yes, those are ASCII snowflakes. I'm a geek.)

Mica made a nice "tribute" video from iBlog4 chicken pictures, and I stole it. Yay! Go watch.

Last weekend, while browsing through the organic soaps section in one of the local health and beauty shops here, I stumbled upon Dr. Bronner's Magic Soaps. I think it was the colorful appearance of the bottles that attracted my attention.

I picked up a bottle for a closer look. Hmm... "18-in-1 Hemp Almond Pure-Castile Soap"... whoa! HEMP?!! Is that the same hemp known by other names like mary jane, hashish, grass, weed, pot, ganja, dope?!!

I mean, I know this stuff can also be used for medicinal purposes. I think I read it somewhere and also saw it on CSI:Miami where Delko bought some illegally for his cancer-stricken sister. (Oh and Horatio is marrying the sister in the next episode I think.) But it's quite surprising to find the stuff freely accessible in a liquid soap when a TV cop had to get it the hard way.

Anyway, I bought one because I thought it smelled good (or was that the drug kicking in?). When I got home, I continued reading some of the finer prints on the label and realized that this Dr. Bronner dude must have been smoking his soaps. It was quite an interesting read. Here are some of my favorite lines:

- Clouds when cold. (What?)
- If Cap Clogs, Poke It. (That sounds dirty.)
- Do Not Squeeze Bottle and Shoot Out Soap. (That sounds dirty too.)
- Absolute cleanliness is Godliness! (That doesn't sound dirty... just stupid.)
- To simplify & enjoy life more, dilute 1/2 oz... (... and smoke it?)
- Enjoy body rub to stimulate body-mind-soul-spirit. (What's the difference between soul and spirit?)
- Within 9 minutes you feel fresh and clean. (Really? 9 minutes? How did he figure that out?)

Want to torture yourself with the whole thing? Here you go (163 KB). There's an even longer and more confusing version (957 KB) on Dr. Bronner's website, where I also saw his picture... which confirmed my theory about him smoking his magic hemp soap.

So I followed the instructions and diluted the soap in hot water, dipped my towel in, and applied it on my face. I waited 9 minutes and didn't really feel any different. My face felt a little cool, but I couldn't define that as fresh since it was obviously just cold air hitting my warm face.

Oh, and I didn't find out all the 18 ways of using the soap. Maybe next time I'll try using it undiluted and see whether any magic feeling appears.

Okay, I know the title sounds strange, but it's actually quite amusing if you think about it. I'm sure hundreds of ladies out there are looking for decent guys to go out with, and here I am, going to a wedding with no date. Allow me to explain.

(circa February 2008)
Bride: Have I told you I'm getting married on April 12? Can you make it?
Philos: You haven't told me, because if you had, you'd know that I wouldn't miss it for the world. (I know, blech! I'm that cheesy... can't help it. Plus, she's a really good friend of mine. Does that absolve me now?)
B: Okay, great! You bringing anyone?
P: Nope, nothing's changed.
B: I'll be saving you two seats anyway just in case you find someone.

(a couple of days ago)
B: Are you bringing anyone? I'm finalizing the seating arrangement.
P: It's not that I don't want to bring anyone. I just don't have anyone to bring....
B: Yet. Anyway, I'm still saving you two seats. See ya!

So here I am with a wedding to go to and two seats under my name, but no one to go with. I mentioned this to Joyfulchicken today, and, being the supportive friend that he is, he bet me a burger that there's no way in hell I can find a date in two days. I want to prove him wrong, so the wager is on.

Now I need your help. Can anyone here set me up with a date for this Saturday? If you know someone (women only... no dudes) interested in a free meal and willing to dress up for the occasion, just email the name and contact info (and maybe a Friendster link) to philos [at] chickenmafia [dot] com before Saturday.

The wedding will start at 10 AM on April 12, 2008 at the Don Bosco Church in Makati. Reception will follow at Hotel Intercon.

Appendix A: Benefits of going on a date with Philos

1. You'll get a delicious free lunch at a nice hotel.
2. It will be fun because I'm a fun and friendly guy. And I won't be creepy, I promise. I'll be a gentleman.
3. You'll be free by early afternoon, which leaves you with enough time to find an evening date in case things don't go well (highly unlikely).
4. Who knows? I might just turn out to be Prince William in secret (or Harry, whoever is the good looking one--I mix them up all the time).
5. Did I mention the delicious free food?

So set me up please. And hurry... I only have two days.

UPDATE: Submission is closed. Thanks to all those who participated.

Last night, I went to a "singles night" party because a friend's cousin needed more bodies to fill the floor. For some reason I haven't quite figure out yet, she needs it to pass a course. Wow, some course huh?

I didn't exactly have a good time. Seeing as I wasn't likely to gain anything by being there, I decided to live blog instead. Well, not really. I typed my thoughts down on my phone so I could share them with you later. I know... I might as well have worn this cap.

Anyway, here you go.

10:00 Guess what? I feel like a dork.
10:02 I don't even see people. Maybe I'm in the wrong part of the room.
10:03 Well, there are some. Most of them are guys though.
10:04 I wish I've brought a camera so I can blog about how dorky I look.
10:06 I knew it was the wrong move to come alone. Not only do I look like a dork, I look like a loser dork.
10:08 250 pesos... guess that covers the 2 beers. I wish it's food instead. Hmm, I'm thinking of splitting. The girl who invited me ain't even talking to me. Way to go, Philos!
10:10 Now I see some transvestites come in with a group of girls. At least there are girls now. Some are pretty cute too.
10:11 At least I lucked out on the seat I chose. I'm sitting at the women's side of the room... a whole lot of good it's doing me.
10:13 Damn beer tastes like water.
10:14 I have a magic trick, but I ain't about to go and prove how dorky I am. (Here's where JC was trying to convince me to make a fool of myself to attract attention.)

After half an hour of sulking and trying to get some cutie to make eye contact....

10:47 They're setting up a dance floor of sorts. Apparently, there's going to be some dancing. I'm so doomed.
10:52 And now I lost my seat because some enterprising guys realized what a good position I had.
10:59 Now some idiot is starting to dance an idiot dance.
11:02 WTF! The only daring guy I saw--the one who sat with the chicks--is holding hands with a transvestite!
11:09 Sigh. Now the girls went down to the dance floor with a bunch of guys... small consolation that I got my seat back.
11:10 Whoa! Is this spot a chick magnet or what? A bunch of hotties just walked in and took the same table. They have gay escort too but at least not trannies.
11:12 Boy am I glad I stayed up here. The ratio just shifted 10 to 1.
11:14 Man man, never seen so short a mini before.

At this point I spotted a hot chick and desperately tried to think of an opening line.

11:54 Damn, I'm such a chicken. (Yup, this is me still figuring out what to do.)
11:57 I spoke too soon. The "hottie" I was eying is a tranny.... eeewww!!! Now I'm glad I chickened out.
12:01 Leaving now. Can't believe there's actually a line of people outside still waiting to get in. Imagine their shock when they saw a dork walk out.

Yes, I didn't get any numbers... not even a smile. And to think I was acting cool and stuff--well, as cool as can be managed while sporting a big backpack and wearing an "old person" shirt.

But I'm sorta glad I was too chicken. The only thing worse than not getting a number is getting a tranny's number.