Sunday, May 31, 2009

Unto You I Barf

Was trying to clean my closet a couple of weeks back, and I discovered that this time I have an extremely lower threshold for throwing things away than I used to have the last time I had a major clean-up around 5 years ago. To no surprise 3/4ths of the closet was filled with boxes and boxes of comic books, clam shell packs of opened action figures, other toys, books books books, and a whole bunch of old text books, papers, notebooks, and other carcasses of high school and college. The quarter of a space left was reserved for clothes, out of obligation.

In a fit of BRP I threw all those damn written stuff, all those books, all those supposedly important papers that I used to think would come in handy in the future. Well you know what, THIS is the future and you have done nothing but accumulate disgusting moldy dust! And to further aggravate this fit i discovered... old high school class pictures! Old high school class cards! Diplomas! Certificates! College portfolios of pretentious poetry!!! Into the sack of things to burn they went, because really, even as a 78-year old man in my rocking chair I don't think I would ever clutch those darn things and stare at them with nostalgia.

And so to my competitive 13-year old self, unto you I vomit. The bullies were right to bully you, and I commend them for doing so. To you, my 14-year old ugly, brooding, genuinely depressed self, unto you I bequeath my canister of unused Prozacs and pat you on the head and tell you that indeed, indeed, things will get worse. And to you, my 19-year old well-meaning, verbose, pretentious literati, you with your black t-shirt on and your journal of dark, delayed adolescent purple prose, you with your fake thoughts of crime, suicide, and junkieness, unto you my 19-year old-self I offer nothing but mercy... for the unspeakable crime I'm going to do unto you!!!!

It's time to get a Moolatte.

One Of Those Entries

I don't know when the concept of sluggishness was birthed, but it has definitely gone into prominence in the past one and a half years. Sluggishness, for you hyperactive, never-tiring academic bunch, is that state that treads the fine line between wakefulness and somnolence, a state that has one express purpose: to go through the motions. I used to think that it must be the heat that promotes this sluggishness, but it has been raining like hell and I have been extremely sluggish like a moron. And that it should attack at the most inopportune time, when the consultant you have to accompany never runs out of energy, perpetually walks ten times faster and hops three steps at a time when climbing a flight of stairs. You try to sap that energy, but you go into seizures. Eventually you tell yourself that you must just be undergoing some warming up for the day, that eventually at around 10am you'd be so revved up you could rounds ten patients in thirty minutes, until you realize it's five pm and you are as sluggish as ever.

It's one of those blog entries, I know.

Wednesday, May 27, 2009

Fiction: Smoketh

Smoketh was annoyed at the world. If you discover your cat rubbing his body against somebody else's leg you'd be annoyed too. It doesn't matter that the cat is just making pahid his body grime, Smoketh wanted that touch. Exclusively. And then yesterday as she was eating pizza she discovered body hair firmly entrenched beneath the pizza sauce. "I'd rather that there's a dead cockroach on my pizza," she snootily said as she tossed back her hair in annoyance. To deal with this having almost eaten somebody else's hair she grabbed a pack of smokes and smoked 3 cigarettes in each hand at the same time. And just this lunch she saw the object of her love, the guy who has been giving her irritable bowel syndrome attacks for years, with a buxom bimbo. They were eating barbecue, giggling.

Smoketh couldn't take it anymore. How dare they banter and flirt and frolick in front of me, she cried. So she walked towards the couple, asked for their finished barbecue sticks, and stabbed both of them in the neck, blood spraying down on their plates.

Sunday, May 24, 2009

Set Up A Bleeping Cheese Trap, Lloydie, and Other Things

1. The Blackest Night. Counting down the seconds (again, with that annoying hyperbolic expression) till this finally commences in July. There are now 7 existing lantern corps in the universe-- The Green Lanterns (will power), The Yellow Lanterns (fear), The Red Lanterns of Rage, The Blue Lanterns of Hope, The Violet Lanterns of Love (actually, it's pink. It's the Star Sapphires!), the mysterious Indigo Lanterns of Compassion, and my favorite, The Orange Lanterns of Avarice. All together now: MINE! MINE! MINE! The Blackest Night will see the birth of the Black Lanterns, composed of.... the dead characters of the DC Universe!!! Woooh! Woooh indeed.

2. Last week, the finale of Survivor: Tocantins. Fun but rather predictable season, with JT being everyone's bet from the beginning. He's this season's male version of Elisabeth and better-looking version of Rupert. During the finale I've realized as Jeff teased the next Survivor season (Samoa) that it would be the 19th season (2 seasons per year) of the show! And realized with much guilt that... I've watched all of them. Indeed. And for the record, the worst was that All-Stars crap in 2004.

3. Star Trek rules. Going into it I couldn't totally count myself a fan, my little knowledge being limited to what I've read in those Sci-Fi/Paranormal magazines (in search of X-Files articles), the few classic episodes I've watched in channel 5 twelve years ago, and from what I've heard from Smoketh, the one true Trekkie. So I went in not totally counting myself a fan, and came out of the theater all misty and converted. That last scene where each character is being focused by the camera as Kirk finally takes the captain's ship is the Star Trek version of Batman perched on top of a Gargoyle or something at the end of each Batman movie. I envy long-time hardcore fans--I got myself all messy being just a casual viewer, so I can only imagine what it must have been like for them. Seizures, I tells ya--seizures indeed.

4. Still in the movies, saw Angels and Demons with TT and HIV. I remember having read that in my PDA back in February 2005 during Surgery clerkship while Roxy and I were at the ER, but I've totally forgotten the plot. I've totally forgotten, for instance, that there is this whole thing about Earth, Fire, Wind, and Water. This is all well and good, except for the fact that they've forgotten the most important element of all: Heart. What, Mati's Planeteer ring is not important? It enables him to talk to squirrels and narwhals! All together now... HEART!!!! (blook blook blook)

5. And in what passes for the real world, no one can seem to get enough of this earth-shattering issue, what with all the shows in all the channels talking about this issue and any aspect remotely related to it that can be exploited. And since no one seems to be getting saturated, and since I want to test if this blog will show up in search engines after these keywords are typed, then let me just say:

hayden hayden hayden, katrina katrina katrina, hayden katrina hayden katrina hayden katrina senate senate senate sex video sex video sex video sex video prc prc prc medical license medical license fuck fuck fuck i'm the victim but i'm a victim too no i'm the victim no I'M the victim here.

6. And back in the more real real life, I'm starting to notice a lot of... strangeness. The quiet ones are now threatening to get violent towards a certain... collectively reviled person, error-detection is claiming a lot of heads, a lot of people are having diarrhea, and I always hear some scary squeaking behind Lloydie's table. Set-up a cheese trap darn it!

Friday, May 15, 2009

Photo Op on Drugs

As blog fodder, I will now self-indulgently post some photos of my beloved figs, much to your dismay. To start with... the Trinity!!!

Noticeably they are all hot now-- big muscles, the whitest skin, the strongest jaws, the most enormous boobs. But they weren't such hotties 40 years ago:

Superman at the center, because it's based on the art of Curt Swan, the definitive artist of all things Superman!

For comparison, this is how Wonder Woman has evolved from puruntong to high-cut panties:

Modern Wonder Woman based on the art of the incomparable Terry and Rachel Dodson, 60's Wondy based on the art of Mike Sekowsky!
The Justice League of America as formed by Brad Meltzer in 2006:

The Bat-Family! Note that I don't have Oracle, so we have instead the fully ambulatory Barbara Gordon Batgirl!


Since we don't want to overdose on awesome, I will finish this post with a photo of the females of the DC Universe. Imagine the pain and agony of making these high-heeled babes stand up on their own. I am talking particularly to you, Vixen, Hawkgirl, and Saturn Girl!!!

Coming soon: Silver Age Goodness! X-Men! Avengers! WWF! Russian Superman, Batman, and Wonder Woman! DC The New Frontier!!! Wooooooooh!!!!

Wednesday, May 13, 2009

Inviting HIV

I rarely go somewhere far for vacations basically due to lack of funds, and my goal is to be walking-on-water-solitary-trip-to-Batanes level, but for this leave, which will end in a couple of days, I went to Baguio because the sun is making me crazy as hell (Or more like the clouds, they’re the ones making me crazy. Because the sun will always be like that, but where the fuck are the clouds?!) So to spite me Emong decided to hitch a ride so we were trapped in the mountains with the rains and all. Upon coming back to Manila I decided to finally check an item in my checklist of things to do which has been sitting there unticked since ten years ago, which is to get a piercing. “Will there be blood?” I told silver jewelry girl as she wielded her gun. “A little,” she said, bathing the generic needle in alcohol. “Then throw the gun away and just manually pierce me with this new fake diamond stud earring instead, if I’m to have HIV I’d rather that I had fun contracting it!!!” I growled, or something to that effect with less melodrama.

I wanted to have both ears pierced for more katangahan look, but my right ear usually develops disgusting nodules that come and go. Med-Once people, is there such a thing as chondrosarcoma or something of the right lobe? Can I have these nodules biopsied or scanned with diffusion weighted imaging? I am deathly afraid of cancer, I suspect cancer in everything. I don’t give a crap about predictive values and sensitivity and specificity of diagnostic tests and crap when it comes to cancer, because everything can be cancer, and my index of suspicion is to the level of seeing images and hearing voices that aren’t there. If I have my way I’ll have everything scanned every 3 months. “First time mo?” silver jewelry girl asked, and I wanted to say “I was already born with a hole, except that it’s probably a sinus tract, which is totally disgusting!” except that I would probably have to explain everything first.

In a matter of 10 hours or so I decided I wanted to remove cheap fake diamond stud, and as soon as I unplucked it the piercing closed down in a swoop, like a Wolverine healing factor special effect. I informed Mrs. Therese of this, to which she said, “Poke it back!!!! And you have to twirl a sinulid in it every day!!!!” And from Namtab Pots on this entire pointless exercise, “You’re like Aquaman. From boyish looks to grunge!!!”

Aquaman. Come to think of it, Aquaman has come a long, long way. He used to have the all-American look—blonde, orange scaly shirt, huge muscles. Then he decided to wear that blue wavy bestida. Then he grew a beard, fashioned a long hair, stripped off his shirt to reveal enormous muscles, and inserted a hook in place of his left hand after it was munched by piranhas. Then he decided to go back to the orange chainmail shirt, shave, and cut his hair. And his left hand hook became a cool-looking yet undefined water hand with mystical powers. And in a few years he became an ermitanyo with squid face. I heard he then died in some story I haven’t read yet. This, of course, will lead to his return in June, because the dead will rise in… The Blackest Night!!!

Damn Too Many Doctors

All the other guys in the batch had their trahe de boda, I mean barong tagalong, made by Menchu, some popular designer in Tagaytay. She went all the way to our callroom from Tagaytay, and as she was checking her list she noted that there are 9 guys in the batch, yet only 8 had their fittings done. “Ako yun,” I said, quietly slurping down dinuguan in the corner. “Meron na po ako,” I said more slurpingly, blood dripping down my chin. I of course vowed never to spend a single peso in this entire PCP convention, imagining that the crazy heat and the long hours of waiting for the prestigious people to pat each others’ backs during the convention would uglify every one anyway. The only downside, I wasn’t able to engage in conversations such as this:

John Doggett: Ay ang ganda ng buttons ng barong mo, pearls.
Barry Allen: Yung sakin gold with two black stripes.

Eventually I had to eat my own words of not spending anything, because as soon as I stretched my ancient barong to inspect it the strands all started to separate from each other, fall on the floor, and crawl to the trashcan. And I probably couldn’t justify the fact that it’s now yellow. I hang my head in shame and still bought a new but cheap one in SM. It has plain buttons, by the way. On to the PCP: There were of course damn too many doctors, and true enough more hours were spent on waiting while the prestigious people all patted each others’ backs and gave each other awards and stuff. The trophies were cool though—anitos with seemingly evil powers. And of course, the speechifications. The speechifying speeches were loooong. And… looooooong. Not longer, of course, than the time spent on… batch peekchurs! There’s peekchurs on every group, subgroup, subsubgroup, subgroup 1 + subgroup 2, females of subgroup 1 + subsubgroup 4, etc. “All UPCM batch 2006 + PGIs!” someone cried. “All LU 4 facilitators!!!” someone else cried.

And just when we thought the peekchurifications were over, everything was repeated… in a different setting (ie, in front of the SMX sign). The only amusement in this grand tradition of peekchurification is that as always, everyone instantly screams a much enunciated “YEHEY!” after each photo is snapped.

Monday, May 4, 2009

Legion of 3 Worlds #4 Mega-Spoilers

In Legion of 3 Worlds #4: Dirk Morgna finally comes back as Sun Boy in the most dramatic fashion, saving Brek Polar Boy before he gets killed by the ultimate prima donna Superboy Prime. Superman, Cosmic Boy, Saturn Girl, and Lightning Lad are all scooped up by the Time Trapper into his dimension or something, and a fight ensues. Dawnstar and Wildfire return from the past with a strand of Lex Luthor's hair, which the 3 Brainiacs input into the Kryptonian Chrysalis to herald the return of Superboy, the 90's version who is a joint clone of Luthor and Superman (in a weird in-vitro gay way), one of the four Supermen who came back after Superman's death at the hands of Doomsday in Superman #75. Superboy, of course, died in Infinite Crisis #6 in 2005, which was quickly followed by the death of Bart Allen in the short-lived Flash, the Fastest Man Alive because he sucked as The Flash, and which is only noteworthy because Bart Allen is also resurrected in Legion of 3 Worlds #3! All of these resurrections seem to be interesting, except for the fact that I have no love for these characters. Still, Geoff Johns proves that he is the master of tugging at our collective geek hearts when he reveals in the shockingest final panel of them all that the Time Trapper, who has been The Legion of Superheroes' ultimate foe for more than fifty years, is none other than the aged version of Superboy Prime!!!!! Eeeeeeeek!