Sunday, November 28, 2010

No Tearing Asunder

Residency is done--DONE!!!--in a couple of weeks, unless of course I do something stupid, like get caught having sex behind a post or order something really weird like fleet enema every hour, with acid. In the first few months and in my final days in Diliman I cooked up some sort of list of things I would have to do/experience there before I graduate. Such checklist included: eat as much isaw as I could (check), walk along that white pipe bridge thing (X), avenge myself by snubbing those MMCC people in Sunken Garden (check), watch two warring fratmen do nasty things on each other (X), and other stuff. In med school there was no time for this drama, all I remember was I was either always sleepy or always laughing. My last few days in internship was spent with Ditz the Titz in the MICU, and Ditz the Titz shepherded me towards the end with boatloads of laughter. In our last day after the Sunog RD-Kid, Leif, Jaz, Thymes, and I walked to Roxas till morning and had our pictures taken. I got a death threat for those pictures.

I've thought a few months back that come the end I would probably study harder, get more intense in everything, soak things up more, but as I've told Djanah this morning while we were, er, sweeping the floor, I only feel more... tamad. That's not exactly right, what I feel right now is tamaaaaad na taaaaaamaaaaaaad, because the words have to be drawn out. For more. The first thing I do in the morning as I open my eyes is listen if there is heavy rain outside that would cancel work. Then I would drag--DRAG!!!--my feet to the kadiri bathroom and sit on the bangko and pour cold water over me.. for MORE drama. At work I would nestle in my corner and... read comic books. Or watch Twilight Zone with Tits, Djanah, HIV, Marth, or whoever cares to watch. "Twilight Zone na lang ang dahilan kung bakit ako pumapasok," Djanah expressed.

And since I'm now making a habit of dropping a quote to end my blog entires for more drama effect, let me quote the then unwrinkly Robert Redford from the magnificent Twilight Zone episode Nothing In The Dark. On death he says:

 "You see. No shock. No engulfment. No tearing asunder. What you feared would come like an explosion is like a whisper. What you thought was the end is the beginning."

Teardrop teardrop, but the beginning of what? I'll tell you the beginning of what! The beginning of MORE suffering! MORE complications just by LIVING! Specialty boards, fellowship exam, fellowship with no money, more exams, more money needed to establish a practice, more years to spend before actually establishing a practice and then... OLD AGE and DEATH! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHH!!!!

No Respite From Whinifications and AHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHU's

Been catching up on my comic book reading and realized I have 165 comic book backlogs, so this is a comic book-related entry. Last chance to stop reading if you're not into comic books, but by all means read on if you drop by to enjoy the general nega-ness of things.

I hereby lay-out the salient points/general updates/spoilers in the DC Univerese.

1. Superman, in the ongoing storyline Grounded, is literally walking across America with each issue set in a different city. He deals with domestic violence, medical emergencies, broken infrastructure, etc. If you think this sounds boring you are absolutely right. Current storyline is just on the 5th of the projected 12 issues. The story should be renamed "Walk Walk Walk. Then Walk."

2. Bruce Wayne is back. You mean he was gone? Yes. For over a year after being blasted by Darkseid and thought dead the Batman cowl was donned by former Robin/former Nightwing Dick Grayson, with Bruce's son Damian Wayne the new Robin. Now Bruce is back after long storylines which saw him travelling through time, so we now have two Batmen. We also now have a Batwoman, practically two Batgirls, two Oracles, a Red Robin, etc. Hungh.

3. Wonder Woman is now sporting black leather pants, a smaller tiara, a leather jacket, and cannot fly. Storyline boring. Its place in the continuity unknown. We presently don't care. But must admit those jumping to reach sidewalk ladders fun.

4. The Justice League is composed of Dick Grayson as Batman, Donna Troy, Jesse Quick, Jade, Congorilla, and Mikhail. If you don't know them, it's because they are B-stringers, if not all together Z-stringers. I usually like groups with lesser known characters in it, but I cannot endure a comic book illustrated by the horrible Mark Bagley. Dapat magsama si Mark Bagley at si...

5. ...Felicia Henderson. She has finally turned over the writing job in Teen Titans to J.T. Krull. Felicia Henderson is the worst comic book writer in all of comic book history. And just in case I haven't said it clearly enough: Felicia Henderson is the worst comic book writer in all of creation, in all 52 multiverses.

See, even in comic book reading I cannot find respite from whinifications.

Cat Lantern of Rage

While scheduling for ambulance conduction in APL (Ambulance Parking Lot) Smoketh and I saw one of the sleeping cats wake up, then do the most wonderful backstretch/ikyad/contortion. He then smelled the shoes in the vicinity then slept again. I tried doing this stretch alone in my room which led to various muscle and joint pains, and I have to accept my longtime frustration that I will never, ever be a cat. Back in high school the first ever essay I turned in was called "If I Were A Cat". 

Went home a couple of weeks ago and noted that what used to be a burned down bank is now a brand new Mini-Stop. This lot has seemingly been abandoned for quite some time, with only the charred remains of the bank and the house that went ablaze a few years ago sitting there. Truly that branch of Mini-Stop should watch out. I foresee that the cashier person would turn left, would turn right, as he hears the pained—or enraged—meeeeeeeeeoowrrrrrs of a cat, only to find that there are just groceries there. Or a few arfs would be heard, the volume of which would escalate and escalate, and the sales clerk would bite his nails in mortification—because there are no dogs anywhere in sight. Because you see inside the house beside the bank was a pet-shop, which also burned to the ground. Poor, poor, poor cats, my heart weeps for the joy you could have given lonely men and women everywhere. Oh yes, dogs too, poor dogs. I’ve told this nasty bit about the pet shop to Mrs. Therese a few years back and she could only scream : EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP!!!! 

This is henceforth the perfect opportunity to post more pictures of the Red Lantern of Rage cat... Dex-Starr!!! Kawawa naman si Dexter. He used to be just an ordinary tubby but his loving master was killed by thugs and he was put in a sack and thrown to the river, so a red ring of rage swooped down his tail and he becomes the Red Lantern of Rage Dex-Starr!!!! Power: he can vomit red blood-like acidic something which can instantly skeletonize you. We can probably captionize this set of photos as Pusang Virg and Pusang Pa-Virg. Pusang Pa-Virg is also the brainchild of HTGOF, and you should look up Pusang Pa-Virg in Facebook because PPV can dispense love advice like no other.

Pusang Virg                                                Pusang Pa-Virg

Friday, November 26, 2010


Before residency started three years ago we were told by a fellow that we would see ten-years worth of cases in just three years, but we would also age ten years faster. Back in med school I would still be asked for an ID if I try to get in an R-18 movie, but now someone in the corner would offer me massage with intermittent sex if I would so much ask for a light--I mean if I were asked for a light, in which case I would say no, of course I don't have a lighter what are implying. Frichmond, however, has maintained her youthful looks. She recently asked a 7-11 crew for a pack of Marlboro Greens, and she was asked how old she is. Admirably she has stopped herself from flashing her license screaming, "Doktor na ako! Now give me that fucking pack of cigarettes. NOW!!!!"

I have recently unearthed a photo taken in 2001 in Pangasinan when I, Mrs. Therese, Chel, Jhonhie, Rodky, Groin, and Mae went to Hundred Islands. And just recently I happily had a pornographic photo of myself taken, also in Pangasinan. It's just almost ten years apart, but it's worth a hundred years' worth of innocence and virg lost. For more self-embarrassment.

Virg                                                                               Pa-Virg

What... happened.

Massive All-Powerful Time-Travelling Virus For More!

In The Talented Mr. Ripley Mr. Ripley narrates that if he could only get a giant eraser he would erase a bunch of stuff from his life (he said this more elegantly than “a bunch of stuff”) starting with borrowing a university coat that led to the events that ended with him slicing Dickie’s face with a sagwan. 

File under: low serum levels of fluoxetine, but I wouldn’t want a bleeping eraser right now, what I want want want is a massive all-powerful time-travelling computer virus to erase… come to think of it, I still haven’t decided what bits of my life I would like to erase. That point should be a defining moment, something that is not only really, really crappy, but one which has led to a downstream egress of really horrible events. My mother leading the assassination of our evil, beloved cat Smi ten years ago is really ghastly, but other than damaging me psychologically and making me always check if that black cat in Taft or in the ambulance parking lot is the fifteen-year old Smi who has apparently escaped death, that horrible event has not really… cascaded, ie, if I erased that event I would still be crazy.
Henceforth whereas I would like to erase my whole life (drama!), I have narrowed the contenders for Bleeping Moments I’d Rather Erase to two. I don’t give a crap if deleting those would cause some time-space paradox hypertime overdrive whatever, I want them deleted. DELEEEEETED!

In 1997 I still haven’t decided if I would attend Ateneo, UP, La Salle, or UST. The courses I got accepted in in the last three were potential pre-med courses, while the one I got in Ateneo is… Legal Management. Legal Management!!! Ahahahaha. Two days before the deadline of confirmation we just boarded the car from Laguna, drove to the city, and before we knew it we were in C5. “Anong school meron na on-the-way?” I asked. “UP or Ateneo,” driver said. “Anong mangyayari sakin pag nag-Legal Management ako?” I asked. “Lawyer siguro, di ba ganun pag may salitang ‘legal’ ” Mum said. “Wala akong alam dyan, sige, UP siguro,” I said as we drove directly to UP OUR.

Delete that with the powerful computer virus!!!!!! Replace with:
Mum: Wake-up, let us submit your papers.

One day in the early months of first year college I woke up at 3 am, rode the jeep from the Kalayaan Dorm to the QC circle, and along with hundreds of ROTC cadets started an Alay-Lakad Walk Crap in file. It was still quite dark. Maybe I’m only adding now in my memory that as we walked high-ranking people were poking us with bayonets, what I’m sure though is that at certain points someone would scream some command something and we would all need to run---RUN!!!—without disrupting the formation/file/whatever crap you call it. My lungs were quite healthy then, but my gasping mounted when I saw… Mapua. We walked/ran/whined/crapped the crap from QC to the U-Belt. Why do I want to erase that horrible but seemingly inconsequential non-event you dare ask? It may be inconsequential in the greater scheme of things, yes, but I want to erase it just so I could replace it with another memory, ie, one where I was carrying a blowtorch and I blowtorched to hell the whole damn event!!!! Blowtorch can be replaced by missile launcher, whichever is available. File under: Possible evidence expert witness psychologists would look into if I get into trouble in the future.

Monday, November 22, 2010

Butangera Zombies

Was in a state of BRP yesterday--yes, BRP is so 2004, and when I told some of my clerks a few months ago, "Nag-BBRP ka na ba?" I was admonished that BRP has officially been replaced with some B-something in the DSM or something. So for our purposes I was experiencing--insert high-pitched whines here--a PUSSY (Pre-Unknown Something Syndrome, Yes). PUSSY is characterized by uncontrollable fidgeting, the desire to eat soil, and the desire to ram ten sticks of lur in my mouth to be lit by a blowtorch. And since I'm particularly fond of my lungs I controlled this desire and ran--RAN!!!--to Powerbooks to get an encyclopedia, particularly... The DC Comics 75th Year Anniversary Visual Chronicle Encyclopedia!!! Yes, I don't give a crap about medical books, but I give twenty craps about.... The DC Comics 75th Year Anniversary Visual Chronicle Encyclopedia!!! Off I went lugging around the store with the giant book in my arms, because it's mine.... MINE! To quote Agent Orange: Mine Mine Mine!!! Some Powerbooks staff intern or something nicely asked me what I was looking for, and I said I already have it, in fact I'm carrying it right now, can't you see I'm hugging... The DC Comics 75th Year Anniversary Visual Chronicle Encyclopedia!!!!

"Let me check if it's in good condition," I told the cashier as she ripped it open and showed me that it's properly bound and nothing is falling of and there are no creases or thumbmarks or folds or stains or whatever, and I said, "I'm getting it!" But I was slammed as she said, "You only need to buy something else to fulfill the price criteria so you could get our Year Planner or an Umbrella for free!" I couldn't give a crap about any of those things, but I thought Mrs. Therese would like the planner so I said, "Get me an English classic! In particular... Pride and Prejudice and Zombies!!!"

I'm not sure how this mash-up of sorts would work and I'm still in the first page, but the first line seems promising: “It is a truth universally acknowledged that a zombie in possession of brains must be in want of MORE brains”

Have some other points on this very important matter to write, but cannot concentrate because who should take the seats beside us but... The Butangeras!!! And, you can ask Smoketh, they are not only mega-phoning this time. This time they are... growling at each other. Growling! Surely they must be talking about/role-playing... Pride and Prejudice and Zombies. Heh.

Out Of Pity For The Pin Boys

HIV has recently posted a fantastic nostalgia piece in FB about things that the youngsters of today would no longer experience, such as making a harmonica out of a Nintendo cartridge and using a pen to repair a recently munched-up cassette. Good nostalgia bits, if only to assure us that we weren't the only ones doing it out of poverty. We only had one cartridge for quite some time then--Super Mario Bros 1--because we were poorita and dad just got us the damn family computer (DFC) from Raon so we would shut up, so imagine our consternation when the DFC would make inarte and not read the game. And when it finally does, we would have to endure first... the 8-9 hour daily brown-outs. Even when fully medicated I sometimes have a hard time believing that we've endured such long stretches of brown-outs, but they were real, because to deal with the heat I would go to the ref, open-close the door quickly, so I could feel the remaining cold which always smelled like fish. The boredom, loneliness, and the darkness of those long brown-outs also opened my eyes to a lot of... discoveries, which we are not allowed to put into detail here. Yes, we have opened up this revolving door of nostalgia, and we know nostalgia is a portal we wouldn't want to open as it lets out all sorts of worms, crap, and vermin.

Also classify under things we're happy you kids no longer have to endure because having to endure things sucks: UP Diliman college registration pila. Wherein you go to CSSP and fall in line for some philosophy class and hope the slots don't run out when it's your turn, then run to the College of Science for some STS or Nat Sci slot, then run to the gym hoping you would at least get a Stretching class, and so forth. Because being a Pre-Rog reeks, with people having to declaim, sing, dance, or draw lots just to get in a class. In my first year I got into Stretching, and it rules. All you have to do is stretch, except I always get screamed at by our prof: No bouncing! I would no sooner be under this monstrous professor again for... Philippine Games. While my batchmates were doing archery, and back flips, and shooting ball, and going to the mountains I was playing... piko. Graded piko at that.

I finally did get some interesting PE class in my last sem, as I was able to get a slot in Bowling. In UP Bowling we get three small balls (duckpin) which we could throw along a sometimes crooked lane. I was no good at all, and I would like to think that I was just being charitable to the poor guy at the end of the lane who puts up all the pins at the end of each throw.

Sunday, November 21, 2010

Ahahahahahahaha--Ahuhuhuhuhuhu--More Lithium!

Was facetiming, reading digital Legion of Superheroes, occasionally peeking at digital Harrison's, downloading more Twilight Zone, watching Superman Returns, and organizing my folder "Failed Literary Aspirations" all at the same time while sitting by myself in The Shrine MF1 when popped came BOTD's queries. And as what always happens when BOTD pops up to facetime I close all the open windows and type multiple AHAHAHAHA's in the message box. For this particular facetime BOTD was quite in the zone as she was multitasking herself-- right that moment she was watching The Watchmen on HBO, cooking pancit canton with one hand, and washing clothes with the other. And typing AHAHAHAHA's with yet another hand. She had a few queries, and I am the right person to ask!

BOTD: Sino tong may smiley face na may dugo na nakakatakot?
Me: The Comedian!
BOTD: Sino yung may mga inkblot sa muka na nakakatakot?
Me: Rorschach.
BOTD: Sino yung blue na nag-goglow na nakakatakot?
Me: Dr. Manhattan!
BOTD: Nandito pala yung babae sa Xena!
Me: Wala! Wala si Lucy Lawless dyan!

And I went on to give my insights on the movie's superhero de-constructive undertones and gave some sort of background on what it was all about and the general atmosphere at the time when Alan Moore was...

BOTD: Pinakasinauna ang mga kanta! AHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAH!

Still on the superhero business, so this is your last chance to stop reading if these sorts of things bore you, Dark Knight helmer Christopher Nolan is finally on board to flesh out the new Superman movie, and while this movie would obviously be in good hands I am still sad-- saddeth, for more-- that Routh is no longer in the running as the movie would be a reboot because Superman Returns was deemed a failure. Why. I initially found it to be a bore, but in the greater scheme of things (talagang dapat may pretentious pa-effect na ganito), upon repeated watching Superman Returns is a great, underrated movie and I still get weepy and crap when he makes that soliloquy in the end in front of his kid:

"You'll be different. Sometimes you'll feel like an outcast, but you'll never be alone. You will make my strength your own, you'll see my life through your eyes and your life you'll see through mine. The son becomes the father, and the father becomes the son."

Oo, hindi ako naiiyak sa mga mass murders and usual family dramas and love stories and such, but I bawl over these sorts of things. AHUHUHUHUHUHU. But as I told BOTD, it's much much easier and faster to type AHAHAHAHAHAH compared to AHUHUHUHUHUHUH. And that's our insight for the day, nothing compared to the Didache of Smoketh, but Smoketh's wisdom is incomparable. And now Supes is flying in the final scene and I'm getting all misty and crap again.

Mooore lithium!

Check-out BOTD's fantastic blog at : For more!

Harry Potpot

Because I ran to the movie listing for the week and you know what's showing? Harry Potter. In ALL cinemas. I think except for one cinema in Robinson's, which is showing some obscure unremarkable movie I can't remember. I've learned back in 2001 not to make siksikan with everyone just to get to watch the movie. Back in 2001 (shift everything to sepia NOW) I ran to Rob to watch HP1. This was when we were having Biochem and stuff and it was always half-day and stuff, and this was also when the admission in Rob cinemas was just P50. This was also when the Midtown cinemas were just a dream, so off I went to what is now perfectly labelled by HTGOF as "Cinema Poorita".

The line to HP1 extended to Jollibee, so I told myself I would make no further attempt to watch the blasted movie (I, because I was alone, ya hear that batchmates, I'm used to watching movies alone!). And just to complete to plan to watch something I checked out what was showing in the cinema across HP1 and what should it be but... Glitter, the one with Mariah Carey in it! I checked the line for HP, took furtive glances to my left, to my right, and when I was sure that no one I know was in sight I went to watch Glitter. It is unintentionally funny, and I was laughing by myself much to the annoyance of the two other people watching who seemed to be really into it.

Which reminds me, I've already blogged about this, so I have officially jumped the shark and am now showing reruns, but this was way back in the Friendster era when, all together now, it still wasn't spammed by invites for a liaison in Ortigas by women in transparent clothes. Must resume attempt to preserve those entries before the site totally crashes.


Alas dose y medya na ng umaga, at sa kasulukuyan nanonood si Titi (AKA Tits) at si Renrererenrenren ng DVD ng Just Like Heaven. Ako naman nakahiga at nag totoggle ng tatlong windows: internet, Supergirl digital comic book, and Harrison's-- syempre dapat may kaunting pagkukunwari ahahahaha. Ang maganda pa dito duty ako ngayon, at mukhang nagbabago na yata ang kapalaran ko--wala pang narerefer, wala pang nagco-code. Ahahahahaha. All caps now: AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH. Mabuti naman, dahil laging feeling ng mga kaduty kong interns, clerks, at first year resident ay malas sila pag ka-duty ko sila. At syempre dahil sinabi ko ito ngayon for sure in a few minutes ay may marerefer na bigla. BIGLA!

Nanood kasi kami kanina nina Titi ng isa sa mga favorite movie ko, yung Frailty. Hindi ko alam kung nagkukunwari lang si Titi, pero tuwing may hacking at hitting with blunt objects ay nagugulat at nadidisturb daw sya. Pero okay lang yan, sabi ko kay Titi, dahil sa pelikulang ito, ang hacking at hitting with blunt objects ay utos ng Diyos. Ahahahaha. Dahil dito may aftertaste removal movie bigla, at ito na nga yung Just Like Heaven, kung saan si Reese (close kami) ay doctor in a coma at DNR (Do Not Resuscitate) sya. Isa lang ang moral lesson nito para sa mga doktor: wag kayong basta-basta mag-gigive up just because DNR ang patient, dahil hindi nyo alam, ang pasyenteng DNR ngayon ay pwede nyong... makatuluyan. AHAHAHAHAHAH.

Friday, November 19, 2010


And we henceforth generate more butangera memories. Massive thanks to HTGOF, who is presently riding a gondola, critiquing nude male statues, and slurping spaghetti all at the same time somewhere in Europe for bringing to the present consciousness the wonderful concept of being a butangera, because truly no term so expressedly illustrates the shrillness and general major karindihan of them butangeras more than butangeras.

It was in the early 2000 when Callistus and I were gorging ourselves with everything we could stuff ourselves with in Don Henrico's. This was the time when I didn't care about things like gallbladder, stones, and gallbladder stone pains. The best thing to eat there, of course, are the buffalo chicken wings washed in murky ranch dressing. In came two female koreans who stopped by our table, bent over so their faces were near our bucket of chicken wings, and pointed at the food and in high-pitched, bad English said, "What that? That good? That good?!?"

In our heads: Yes, and you now have your spittle on it. Here, have some, or better yet, you can have it all! Here! Eat the chicken wings! Eat the fucking chicken wings!!!

Grand Pronouncements

You know what I'm talking about: speakers saying stuff in front like "If only one of you would go home and take the message of my talk to heart and start strict hand washing, then I would have done my job." Or emotional guru automatons saying stuff like, "There's nothing more distressing than feeling nothing". Yes, grand pronouncements, which may warrant responses such as "Being intubated is obviously more distressing", but we don't want to waste time. And while it may seem that I am wasting more time blogging about them, this is just a device for me to make... a grand pronouncement of my own!

For months I've been bugging Smoketh to blog something, telling her that writing something would buy her ten indulhensya's closer to heaven, promote tree planting, facilitate social equality, and such. The same way I've been bugging Callistus N to revive his blogging career, telling him that writing something again would get him more sexual partners, promote promiscuity, and expose the lewd appetites of our high school classmates. And just a couple of weeks ago, they've finally written their own fantastic blogs and I can say that... I've done my job. AHHAHAAHAHAHA.

Henceforth in the spirit of promotion, head over to In suckitupeth, Smoketh relates the tribulations of a renal fellow, the wonders of sleeping, and the mortal embarrassment of having zero comments, all with the message that you can whine, you can rant, you can take your mood-modifying drugs, but at the end of the day you should just... suck it up. Or suckitupeth, because it's more fun to say it that way. My description doesn't give justice to her fantastic, heartrending entries, so just head over to her site and drop a comment. Twenty comments. Because no to thero thomments!

Callistus Netromedev has piqued the interest of some people for his groundbreaking rhetoric about getting a bunch of leaves, soaking them in mud, then jerking off with them muddy leaves. Truly his entries are nowhere as lewd as this. In a way he's like a bomba star: you enjoy watching him do nasty things to himself, but if you look closer he's actually a quality indie film actor and would no sooner win... a Famas. Head over to and bring your thesaurus/your own fantastic vocabulary!

Thursday, November 18, 2010

Bipolar Haikufication

So no intern or clerk is still able to present the complete history and one-month course of a patient in haiku format. The very few who attempt/make patol are able to dish out elegant, cute haikus, but the content is incomplete, like they miss out on the personal and social history, the antibiotics given, the fever pattern, and risk factors--daunting, but truly there must be a way to squeeze all of these details in a 5-7-5 format. Also there is too much emphasis on emotions--not that it's wrong, but "patient admitted/now in bed with IV lines/it's sad, sad, sad sad" is applicable for both a leukemia patient for BT and a patient with acute HIV syndrome, so we don't get much endorsement from that. But A+ for effort and cooperation and they are getting the hang of it, so the whole service would soon be haiku automatons.

It is henceforth time to feature our new crop of haiku submissions (some not really meant as submissions, but we want more, MORE!) and our theme for tonight is: Bipolar.

First, we have our new guest BHW who is presently in Tondo teaching kids that smoking is bad. Baaaaaaaad. In this haiku she addresses the general sense of loss, in particular, the loss of money... for lur! Thank you BHW, now lur. LUR!
Title: Pano na ang pang-lur?

tapos na tayo

ilan buwan na lamang

la na D B P 

And still on the topic of money because we are all yet to win the 495 million jackpot prize, we have BOTD lamenting the emptiness of her palms... after she stuck it out and cried alms alms alms and was then told there was nothing for her.

ngayon ay a-kinse,
sweldo ko ay not yet here
sad, sad,sad,sad, boooooooooo

And from HTGOF, SIU, and BOTD, we have this interesting series of haikus, which we are sure will usher in the revolution of haiku as the new way of everyday conversation. We hereby present a group of haiku's we shall call: AHAHAHAHAHA.


tagged you in a post

this is a haiku about

facebook. now click like


i will click like now.

it is the best thing to do.

emotional high.

thumbs up, like!, cause I

don't have anything to write,!smile! like! 




AHAHAHA! haaa...

Salamat sa inyong lahat sa pagpatol, more, MORE!

The Tale of Fecaloid and Fecalitha

Callistus Netromedev in his nostalgia has brought back a very interesting memory I've been trying to suppress all these years: open forums! Yes, open forums, because high school kids are the most melodramatic bunch and would cry at the slightest provocation. Now that I'm old with graying temple hair and can no longer get it up (the sympathy at these concerns), not to belittle those high school problems but: you all suck. Those problems suck, they are corny, they are pointless, they wasted much of our time, why do you have to cry at the smallest crap. CRAAAAAAP! This is not strictly true, because even back in high school I would always giggle in my head at the craptacularness of these... problems! Ahahahahaha. During our section's Feast Day being a manipulative class officer of sorts I was tasked to conduct a game, and this game was... a quiz! Questions went like this:

1. Sino ang umiyak nung open forum last week kung saan ang topic ay "Friendship" dahil sinabihan sya ni Tinya Coli na "Wala kang kaibigan! Wala!!!!"

2. Sino ang umiyak nung Teacher's Day dahil umaasa syang maging father figure ang teacher na ito ngunit narealize nyang pareho lang sila ng totoong tatay nya na hindi nagpapakita ng emotions?

3. Ilan ang umiyak last Wednesday during the open forum about "Acceptance"? (I can still remember the answer to this: a groundbreaking 28! In a class of 40! AHAHAHAHAHAHA!)

And so on. To their credit my section classmates must have a bizarre sense of humor because they were able to laugh at these things, or they were just afraid of me. My favorite open forum moment, however, would be something about Fecaloid. To illustrate let's pretend that Fecaloid is her real name. She has a sister with a bad rep in the same school, let's call her Fecalitha. Fecaloid was always annoyed because everyone would always point out Fecalitha's misdemeanors to her as if it were her fault, until one open forum Fecaloid couldn't take it anymore.

Fecaloid: Hindi ako si Fecalitha (massive downpour of tears)! Hindi ako si Fecalitha!!!!!
Sister Goz: (Pats Fecaloid on the head) There, there, FECALITHA, there, there.

In all of our heads (even in the heads of those already crying in sympathy): AHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAH!!!

Wednesday, November 17, 2010

Give Me Palahoho

For some reason the crap I blog about usually pop in my head while lurring alone in our balcony watching at our drunken neighbor do really weird stuff while proudly wearing his bright orange Sta. Rosa City Jail t-shirt, or when I'm taking long introspective, suicidal walks all around, or when I'm peeing, and the best place to blog in is in a particular seat in Gloria Jeans which we call Shrine MotherFucker 1, with Smoketh and I filling the area with smoketh (small S) while snorting Voltage bits. And truly this is the perfect night to write something, having had, as Callistus N so aptly puts it, a "totally fucked-up day". And just tonight, Smoketh has written her Didache inputs for our spiritual growth in two seconds--truly she is the new queen of the blogging world.

Too many stuff to write about,
too many comic book reviews to make,
too many rant rant rant, too many pieces of advice to give the lovelorn,
too many blogs of new bloggers to feature,
too many supposed-witty-funny stuff to regurgitate.
But I can't concentrate, I can't concentrate, I can't string coherent thoughts together, and I don't care if you think this is racist whatever, I can't concentrate,


Tuesday, November 16, 2010

File Under D for Distracted

After all the integers and the x's and y's and the square roots and all those symbols I can't remember now have been written on the board our Math teacher would sit down and let us do the seatwork.

Then she would stare blankly into space.

Truly we were all racing to answer those damn questions for the added points (GC!), at that point in high school those things mattered. Callistus Netromedev, however, couldn't give a fuck, or seven fucks for that matter, for that extra point, as he was always busy observing her as she stared into space. Having run out of lunch conversations he had to bring up: Anong iniisip nya pag nagsea-seatwork tayo? I can't recall exactly who came up with this fantastic answer, could have been Callistus N. himself for all I know, but that someone said, Iniisip nya kung anong ulam mamyang gabi. It's not the wittiest nor the funniest by any stretch of the imagination, but it always drives me insane with laughter. This teacher has henceforth been called ulam. No Ms. or Mrs., just ulam, as in maupo na kayo andyan na si ulam.

And of course, karma is evil, because as I was facilitating the ICU endorsements last week I would catch myself staring into space, thoughts trailing, waiting for an answer to my question oblivious that it has already been answered and four new questions have already been asked in between by Mrs. Therese, Lloydie, and HIV, committing malapropisms, counting those drops as they plopped from the macroset. So in that strange event that one of those students/interns is reading/have wondered what I was preoccupied with, let me say straight out that I wasn't imagining what my ulam would be, in fact these are the probable entangled thoughts I was having then:

  • Did I turn off the electric fan?
  • If I get a writing job at DC and I would be given a choice, would I rather write The Justice Society of America, Supergirl, or The Teen Titans?
  • If I were Burgess Meredith and I were a librarian and I am labelled as obsolete for being a librarian, how would I choose to die?
  • Not that I actually did it, but if I were discovered dead due to autoerotic asphyxiation, how would I (or my spirit), feel?
  • The song #41 by Dave Matthews just running over and over in my head
  • If I send off a group of superheroes into a mission in space, who would Donna Troy bring with her?
  • Lur.
  • Must... escape.
Of course Mrs. Therese noted that I was quietly trying to slink away.
"If you escape I will physically hurt you, PHYSICALLY HURT YOU!!!" she said, to quote her verbatim.

Sunday, November 14, 2010

Whinifications, Etc Part Two! AKA Secret Shame

And since we're on the topic and we want this topic to be over so we could go on with our lives as respectable doctors and lawyers and yuppies and such and we would only get one mega-dose of whinings and get on with our lives unencumbered by whinings and complaints at the smallest stuff here is my final list of... small things I whine about (secret shames) and hopefully (may moral lesson dapat) get over them as soon as the listing is done. DONE!

1. Again, the dirty walls and the disgusting floor in the boarding house restroom.
2. My Jonah Hex action figure (from the fantastic Showcase line back in 2008) is losing its hat. Now what good is a Jonah Hex action figure without its hat?
3. The two old women beside me are eating yummy-looking Japanese food while I'm subsisting on the smallest Voltage just to get internet access.
4. That I don't have a personal assistant/secretary. Because we should all have one.
5. That all the different charger cords for the phone, laptop, iPod, camera, and PDA always get entangled. ENTANGLED!
6. That we have to pee. Cumbersome.
7. That we can't teleport to the hospital and we need to walk.
8. That in 30 days residency would be over, unless I do something stupid, like kill someone and go to prison, or be caught having sex behind a bush and someone would bring it up on Facebook.
9. That my dad's 60's DC comicbooks wouldn't fit in the usual currently available comic book bags because they are five centimeters wider unless I get those expensive Mylar bags
10. That I can't fly, or become invisible, or read someone's mind.
11. That Wonder Woman, Superman, Batman, and all the rest are not real. This is really bumming me out.
12. That there are forms to fill up. FORMS!
13. Cockroaches. Because you step on them and they squirm, they get smooshed, they whine, then they run.

There, that's one million units of shallow, shameful, IV whinings out of my system and into your central line. Because tomorrow should somehow hold some promise that something. I don't know, just something.

Whinifications, Whinatologies, and Whinaprophisms

Was comfortably ensconced in my room yesterday with the aircondition in full blast and my laptop on my belly and I was reading digital comic books after comic books while the TV was on and just across me were my eskaparates of action figures in their wonderful positions and Dave Matthews is in the background screaming the wonderful song #41 and in my head: Ayoko na tumayo at bumalik sa trabaho. And if I should stand up to go to the rest room there is shower and the toilet has flush and the walls are clean and there is soap and I wouldn't mind if the soap falls on the floor because the floor is clean and I wouldn't be afraid that someone has just peed on the floor and if I should get hungry and I did I just texted my mum: Anong palaman ang pwedeng iprito? and in my head: Ayoko na tumayo at bumalik sa trabaho.

I know, the whinifications, whinatologies, and whinaprophisms of a pretend-spartan lifer who indulge in these worldly things, but my Fortress of Solitude was just that, a Fortress, like Superman's, minus the zoo of interplanetary animals, which I also want want want to have, and truly I should punish myself for these selfish, selfish thoughts.  And I also want want want to have replicas of the different colored kryptonites, and while I'm at it why not get one of those huge Bat-signals and a giant Penny and a giant dinosaur, but in a few hours I am snapped back into annoying reality because in just a few hours the weekend was over and I was thrown back to the dorm. In a moment of drama I had told Smoketh that as I was taking a bath in the dorm last week (disgusting image, don't try to imagine) and I was sitting on the tiny bangko and I was buhos-ing myself with the tabo and the four walls around me were gross what was running in my head was: huhuhu, sana mayaman ako.

Slap self for shallowness.

Back in college one of my Psych buddies was Krupskaya and I distinctly remember that in two different occasions she had told me that the only thing she really hates are people who are shallow. Oh yes, Krupskaya, I was shallow, punish me, PUNISH ME! For whining at the state of the boarding house bathroom when just a stone's throw away some people are intubated and being ambu-bagged.

A lot of the blogs I read are mostly entitled random thoughts, random this and that, confession this and that. This would qualify as such. But I still like my title This Could Be A Job For Mulder and Scully. I just like Catatonia singing the song in my head.

Slather My Face With Melted Reese's and Lick It

                On my 12th birthday a rich neighbor gave me a huge pack of Reese’s Peanut Butter cups, those small cups individually wrapped in gold shiny foil, and to borrow some trite coming-of-age phrase, those cups… opened my eyes to a world of sex, drugs, and all sorts of worldliness. I think. Or maybe it was something else I did that day when I was 12 years old alone in my room that opened my eyes to the world of sex, drugs, and worldliness, I can't recall. In any case I’ve always maintained that whoever would give me Reese’s next would be the person I would marry. One loud IKR, I know. One loud SAO, too. That next Reese’s would come in much later in medical clerkship almost twelve years later but this gesture wouldn’t amount to anything, because the Reese’s was given by a classmate as an apology, because she was four hours late in relieving me for monitoring. Scum. SCUM!!! But the Reese's was yummy. 
                And just yesterday I was again given one huge pack of Reese’s. By a patient. A huge  pack of Reese’s in a plastic bag, along with a tall bottle of Dove lotion. The gesture of course wouldn’t amount to anything, for obvious reasons. What obvious reasons I wouldn’t bother to list, but what I want to list, now that my IM continuity clinic is coming to an end, are some of the memorable PF’s I’ve received over the years. After numerous dinners together I’ve noted that Smoketh always gives lots of tips to waiters and such. I told her it’s superfluous, as there’s service charge and waiters get paid for what they do anyway. “That’s right,” Smoketh said, “but it’s just like PF’s in your clinics, you don’t necessarily deserve them and you get paid as a government employee, but you feel happy whenever you receive PF’s anyway.” There is no end to Smoketh’s wisdom, she can create her own Didache in fact. So the list:

  • · Chocolate house with edible roof, walls, gate, pet dog, etc.
  • A plastic bag of sweetened macapuno
  • Gucci perfume
  • Half-consumed box of Cowhead milk
  • Sandwich with Zest-O
  • A pack of Marlboro Reds and a Singaporean keychain
  • Huge Cadbury bar
  • A box of yummy cupcakes
  • Goldilock’s Mocha roll
  • A huge supot of daing
  • A huge supot of mangoes
  • A huge supot of rambutan
  • Yummy langka-flavored biko
  • A bottle of drugs- capsules that contain... biblical passages
  • and a whole lot of other stuff

It's now the month to say goodbye to our continuity patients, and most of them really seem to value the three years of consult they had with me. Mrs. T would also probably see the end of her monthly supply of 8-kilogram fish, which a patient would always give her. One Friday Mrs. T left the giant fish under the OPD table while she looked at other patients. She then realized, after a three-day weekend, that she had left the fish there. One word comes to mind: Maggots.

Saturday, November 13, 2010

Die, November, Suffer and Die.

November seems to be a month of personal pain, and when we say pain we mean the combined pain of real life, emotional pain and physical, retained stone colic pain, and they come in combination so there's no point trading one off with the other if it were even possible. November 2009, when we pushed ourselves to the point of comatogenic (invented word) intoxication--or so we would like to think, because after one bottle we're red, two we're encephalopathic, three we're seizing. Comatogenic intoxication, combined with other strange, deadly behavior and drama, for more. This November it's not much different, as pain deluges in all forms and in all annoying degrees. If there is only an opiate for emotional pain, but if we check all these books and all these theories there are no opiates but there are stages--in dealing; so if there are stages then we would like to throw ourselves from the top stage and hope to land head first on the concrete floor. For endless drama. We tell our patients (ie, Smoketh) as an unlicensed, unregistered, fake psychiatrist all sorts of things, that we may have nothing to be deliriously happy about but we have nothing to be deliriously sad about either, but when we are contorting in our own personal anguish we just want to lur five sticks all at the same time and get a stroke.

Suka all over. I know, right.

Submitted For Your Approval

There are so many reasons why I get to sleep very late at night and waking up in the morning is torture: writing some non-medical crap, facetime, Voltage with Smoketh, comic book reading marathon, organizing computer files endlessly, just to name the few that are not bastos. And even when I get to close my eyes, I still wouldn't sleep because I have to think of lists. Yes, lists, which I list in my head. Like: the most common systemic manifestations of SLE or HIV. Not really. AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHH! All together now: BLEEEEEEECH! What I usually list in my head in fact are things that don't matter in the greater scheme of things, like the top ten pornstars, er I mean DC superheroes of all time, the top ten X-Files episodes of all time, etc, which change nightly. My favorite is a listing of who I would include in my ideal roster of The Justice League of America, because DC can't seem to get this one right, and when they do, such as what Brad Meltzer did in 2006, the title can't seem to get a good story to drive it. So just to bore you, submitted for your approval is my current list of favorite Twilight Zone episodes (the 60's version), with the comments of my extremely mahirit batchmates while they watch it with me.

1. Eye of the Beholder- HIV: "Mas maliit pa ang baywang nung lalake kay Venus Raj!"
2. It's a Good Life- Dondee: "Walang point!!!!"
3. The Hunt- Me: "Ang ganda di ba! Ang ganda di ba! Ang ganda di ba!!!"
4. The Midnight Sun- Renrerenren: "Pinakapawisin ang all!!!"
5. The Howling Man- Tits: "10 minutes na wala pang nangyayari!!!"

End of blog entry.

Thursday, November 11, 2010

Recurrence. Of Cancer!

The cancer that is Harrison's Freakazoidness that is. For a time after the kalbaryo that was orals everyone just started lounging around reading comic books (me), downloading porn (HIV), studying the Bible (Tits), reading novels (Renrererenrenrenren), smooching (Marth V and Gracieloopaloop--we think), and doing incoming Chief Residency stuff (Djana!), until all the reminders and requirements for the upcoming Internal Med boards started popping up and everyone panicked and started making all sorts of reviewers and stuff on the most common cause of symptom of liver disease (fatigue) and most profound sign of liver disease (jaundice) and crap--CRAP!!!!--like that. To be fair we wouldn't think it's crap come real-time-to-panic, but everyone just started rattling off all these factoids from Harrison's to the point of MK (Major Karindihan). To subvert this, for no reason other than to be subversive, I tried to ram--RAM!!!--all sorts of things down everyone's throats. And tonight, it's... an encore presentation of five more episodes of the Twilight Zone!!!

"Nothing is happening," Tits said after two minutes.
"Shut it, there's a moral lesson at the end," I insisted. And even after everyone got bored with the magnificent, heartwarming (totoo, naiyak ako dito) episode "The Hunt", I tried to persuade everyone to feel the same by screaming "Ang ganda di ba! Ang ganda di ba!"

Back to Harrison's as everyone flipped through the pages on prions and biologic warfare and such.
"Tonight," I said, "we're going to have a quiz... from!!!" This got Tits and Hurricane K's attention. They have the best showbiz quotient amongst all. And I read from the damn website.
"Question number one for one thousand points: Hot news from PEP! BLANK, nakipag-break kay BLANK, sa BLANK."

More distractions!

Wednesday, November 10, 2010

Bridget Fonda

As Smoketh and I were standing in the rain hoveled under 1 tiny umbrella it came to our attention that tonight's lotto jackpot is 400 million pesos. Nothing big, just... 400 million pesos! This is a lot of money even to those who are already rich, so this is a lot lot lot of money for us who subsist on abuloy from patients for lunch. As we got soaked just to get to The Shrine MotherFucker 1, like everyone else we enumerated what we would do if we win.

Me: You win P400 million pesos and libre ang mangarap, and it is already a given that love, faith, attention, intelligence, breeding, and impeccable English cannot be bought by money and should therefore not come into the equation and the goal is to be totally materialistic, what will you buy?

Smoketh: Right now... I'll quit training.
Me: Me too. Then I'll go to Druid's Keep and buy the entire store.
Smoketh: I'll buy a condo unit.
Me: Or four. Or five.
Smoketh: A unit with a toilet bowl. With a flush.
Me: I'll buy a liver. Two livers.
Smoketh: A room with everything in it.
Me: A room with Gloria Jeans inside and Tin the coffee barista who can make the perfect Voltage.
Smoketh: A personal chef. And for your toys, you can get many eskaparate for your toys.
Me: Walls and walls of eskaparate. And I can pay for sex.

The last one was a bait of course for Smoketh to just rattle off a WAF staple: You don't need to pay for sex. Yes, we need these sorts of affirmations. Having gotten to The Shrine MotherFucker 1 we immediately separated thoughts and immersed ourselves in our own computers. And who should ring Smoketh but DDDD (Dastardly Dude with Delectable Derriere, for those of you who keep tabs). And what should I do but eavesdrop. Conversation went like this:

Smoketh: Tonight's jackpot: P400 million pesos. What will you buy?

This is of course a sign that this is the right time to watch: A Simple Plan! Starring Billy Bob Thornton, Bill Paxton, and Bridget Fonda wherein they find millions of dollars in a plane crash and they all do stupid things. Or maybe we can re-enact it. I'll play Billy Bob, of course. Smoketh would be Bridget Fonda who would say the line: You can kill him... and make it look like an accident.

Sunday, November 7, 2010

There Are The Normal People, And Then.

Finally got to do final editing and illustrations on our fatty liver booklet along with Hurricane K, and this early we are telepathically coercing you to buy the book because all proceeds will go to Sagip-Buhay. Sagip-Buhay is cool because it helps a lot of our poor patients and such, and it also saves us residents from major headache, despair, and the desire to slash our wrists from all the thinking on where to get money. But ultimately our goal is to be in the Dewey Decimal System.

And just a couple of weeks ago we turned in our latest draft to Sir Guy Gardner over lunch. With much trepidation I also showed him my illustrations for the booklet.

"Our book is serious but the illustrations look a little... cartoony," he said.

"Aheheheheh," I sheepishly giggled-mumbled as I noted the elvish ears of the chronic liver disease patient vomiting blood.
"You know these look like something out of a comic book," Sir Guy Gardner said. "You know I know a lot of comic book artists. There are normal people, and then there are the comic book people. They read a lot of comic books. They go to conventions and they buy these comicbooks and they buy action figures, and they..."

Hurricane K shot me a glance. In our heads: AAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHH!

(With this Zombaboy pic, I couldn't totally disagree)

Saturday, November 6, 2010


I know that in the spirit of BOTD I always scream AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH (insert more AHAHAHAHAH’s here) in my blog entries when I don’t do it in real life, so I hereby present the AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH winners for the month (parang hindi related ang 1st and 2nd part of the sentence, AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!) These are not necessarily universally funny (disclaimer agad), but I found them AHAHAHAHHAAHHAHAHAAHAH-worthy at the time.

1st Prize
Was in GJ’s squeezing my brains out on what was happening to one of our ICU patients that I just wanted to scream with Smoketh: HINDI KO ALAM ANG NANGYAYARI SA PASYENTE!!!! and I imagine that when the relatives ask me what is happening to the patient I would scream along with Smoketh: HINDI PO NAMIN ALAM!!!!! when I suddenly received a call from none other than Smoketh herself quite frantic. “We’re in deep shit,” she said. “Nobody—NOBODY!!!—was able to elicit that that patient is a readmission, that the diarrhea is not acute but is in fact… chronic!!! We have to investigate how the past… is connected to the… present!!! To the batcave!!!”

It was, in fact, HTGOF who was able to make the connection, “Oh that patient, yes, I had that patient last month,” she said matter-of-factly as she munched on some fries. We finally convened in Gloria Jeans and frantically called everyone.

“Lloydie!!!” I screamed. “That patient was your patient last month. Yes, agree, rummage through your old census and check each name and check old labs!!!”
“ALLEN!!!” I screamed, making another call, “do this lab test now!!! Re-history for risk factors!!!”
“Jaimeloopagooparoop!!!” Smoketh screamed over the phone, “Yes, that’s right, etc etc etc, he was your patient last month, yes, I think, ano, yes, agree, we need to check your old entries, wait, are you puffing while you’re on the phone? I can hear puffing. Yes I’m puffing too. I’m puffing hard. Because we’re in deep sheeeeeeeeth!”

Woke up early the next morning and ran—RAN!!!—to the patient. That was it, I thought, the missing link, the puzzle piece that wouldn’t fit, the cog that wouldn’t move, the crap that wouldn’t plop, that was it, oh thank you HTGOF, thank you!!!! I screamed in my head as I ran—RAN!!!—to the patient.

And then we finally confirmed it. Iba yung patient. Ka-rhyme lang ang apelyido.

2nd Prize
There is no 2nd prize. That was the only thing I found funny this month. Which was not even really funny in the spirit of being funny, more like funny only as a way to cover up the sadness of the whole situation. How sad. AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!!!!
More lithium!

Tuesday, November 2, 2010

TCBAJFMAS Features: Callistus Netromedev

Four people have recently asked me who the fuck my best bud Callistus Netromedev is. This is not an unnecessary expletive, they really asked me, "Who the fuck is Callistus Netromedev?" Callistus has recently re-emerged in a few of my blog posts, but he's been existing before under the monicker Namtab Pots!. To this question I usually answer: Think of me + encyclopedic knowledge on Vatican history and you have Callistus N. This, however, is not exactly true, so I hereby present, also in conjunction with the launching of his new blog (he had around twenty blogs peppering the net), 5 things about Callistus N (in addition to his wrist watch smelling stunt and ability to write haikus about masturbation):

1. Back in Grade 6 when everyone was doing wrestling moves on everyone Alexander the Fifth did a choke hold on Callistus N. Callistus writhed, struggled, whimpered as he turned blue, but in the end only one thing made Alexander the Fifth let him go: Callistus let loose copious amounts of green, viscous, gooey sipon from his nose. With projectile effect. To this day I am not sure if this was a deliberate defense move or a result only of an attempt to breathe.

2. As the editor-in-chief of our school paper back then I told literary editor Callistus to write an engaging literary series which would run through each issue. He turned in an intricate conspiracy story something about the Vatican and high priests and such. I know only of two people who read it, and it doesn't include me. One of them, of course, is Feydruta.

3. I once texted Callistus: I want to write a story about a guy who marries a tree, because he genuinely, truly loves it in a romantic sense but I don't know how to proceed. He then suggested: "Guy covers the leaves in mud. He then uses the leaves to masturbate. Then he proceeds to fuck it. What else can you do to a tree?!?!" Excellent, excellent suggestion. I never did get to write that story, as only Callistus N. would be able to do justice to that story.

4. Calllistus N. was a major stockholder when we wrote the lampoon, underground, really profane issue of our high school paper and we almost got kicked out when a teacher almost got hold of a copy. Almost, because another trustee, Ruth Marx, would give his life before giving the copy to anyone. Ruth Marx said he would eat the fucking copy to escape persecution. Ruth Marx, I miss Ruth Marx. Callistus and I used to drag him to malls when we would do action figure-hunting, to which Ruth Marx would always remark: "Ayokong sumama sa paghahanap nyo ng tau-tauhan".

5. Back in 2007 I went to Callistus N's birthday party really hungry and ready to eat huge plates of food. There was no food, not a single piece of tokwa. He makes up for it by force feeding me huge plates of food every time we see each other (as he is now crazily rich), including the plates.

Visit Callistus N's blog at!

Monday, November 1, 2010


"Who's in charge of patient 12?" I asked as I raided the clerks' callroom.
"Nasa ward po. Yung kamuka ni Jestoni Alarcon," the clerkies said in unison. I ran to the ward and saw Jestoni Alarcon in the flesh taking a patient's blood pressure and in my head someone chanted high-pitchedly: Huwag mong buhayin ang bangkaaaaay!!!!

And just a few minutes ago, Marth V. has so astutely pointed out that Tits' Toys R' Us facial scar prop looks like something out of "Huwag Mong Buhayin ang Bangkay!" Truly these are signs that the movie should have a sequel. Or a prequel. Or a TV series version. Or a musical play. For the uninitiated HMBAB is an 80's movie starring Jestoni Alarcon as a bangkay and Charito Solis as the mother is told not to make buhay the bangkay. I've only seen the trailers back then which scared the crap out of me, with JA in the coffin and CS doing some ritual in the church and someone in the background repeatedly screaming high-pitchedly: Huwag mong buhayin ang bangkay!!!! Huwag mong buhayin ang bangkay!!! Huwag mong buhayin ang bangkay!!! HUWAG MONG BUHAYIN ANG BANGKAAAAAY!!! and so on throughout the entire trailer, that you just want to say, OO NA! HINDI NA!

Of course the bangkay was risen back to life or there wouldn't be any movie.