Sunday, January 30, 2011


With much delight I pulled from the ref a bunch of lettuce, sliced some tomatoes, and had some bacon fried for me. Then I made a sandwich. Because that's the extent of my food preparing abilities. Unlike... those kids from Masterchef Junior!!!! These cooking shows are on constant replay in three channels, and you can catch them all the time. In Masterchef Junior these 8-year olds cook lamb or some sauced chicken with those greens or something, using cumin, curry or foie something, and they turn in excellent-looking food.

This reminds me, back in Grade 3 for some reason our HELE (HELE! AHAHAHAAH!) teacher had us make up some recipe as an assignment. There was no internet then, so I had someone do it for me, some gourmet-ish breaded fried chicken of sorts. The next day we were to read the damn thing in front. Miriam was the lucky girl called to astonish us with her recipe. This is exactly what she said in front:

"Fried Fish. Instructions: Trim the fish then fried the fish."

Which, without sarcasm, makes sense in the bigger scheme of things, because why the heck do we need to churn out recipes at that point in our lives anyway? Miriam went on to become a total Math and Chess wizard, winning contests left and right and is now some high ranking CPA.

And back in Grade 6, in... HELE (HELE! AHAHAHAAHAHAH!) our seat work was to fry an egg. If you can fry an egg perfectly, like the yolk is intact and it's perfectly round and stuff, you'll get 10 points out of 10!!!

"Yehey!" Neleah screamed in delight as she watched her egg get fried perfectly on the frying pan. Mrs. Let's Buy Pig In The Market was about to write 10/10 in the grading sheet just as Neleah was excitedly transferring the perfectly fried egg from the pan to the plate. With a yelp she accidentally dropped the egg on the floor, and out splattered the yellow gooey thing on the floor from the once perfect sphere of yolk. "Ay," Mrs. Let's Buy Pig In The Market  said nonchalantly. "Zero over ten!!!" she then snarled.

These cooking shows are dredging up the most pointless experiences.

New Year's Hell, Because Hell is Starbucks Queue That Doesn't End

“What do you have planned for today?” my sister asked the morning of January 1. I said nothing, I will just sleep, because it’s already four hours since I’ve last slept. With her husband and our mom they went to Tagaytay, which is a 20-minute drive from where we live, so after 6 hours I called them “Where the hellellell are you?”
“We’re still in Tagaytay!!!” my sister, whom we shall henceforth call Skullky, caterwauled. “It’s sooooo traffic! It’s soooo fun!!! We ate in… CHOWKING!!!”

Apparently everyone just decided to flock to Tagaytay, as all the roads, restaurants, churches, malls, crevices, and motels were packed like hovels and it took them over three hours to get there. Upon reaching back home I planned to gloat, but decided against it upon seeing genuine emotional distress.

 “Ang pila sa Starbucks hanggang labas. Pang number 28 kami sa Dencio’s. At sa Chowking, walang yelo ang iced tea. At… walang tissue,” my mother declared, as she sprinkled Prozac powder on her milk.

“It was like the end of the world na,” Skullky declared, shaking, still reeling from the 7-hour ordeal, dried mascara on her cheeks.
“There, there,” I said as I patted them on the head. And in my head, “gloat, gloat”.

Because you see, we all have our different forms of hell. My own personal hell is when I get an extreme, debilitating allergic rhinitis attack that the image of smoke on TV is causing me to sneeze like crap, sneezing and tearing like hellellel that I don't care what the textbooks say I wouldn't want that ketchup bottle with sodium bicarb or salt or some douche thing near my nose, because if I could I would scrape out these turbinates, scrape them out with a razor  and then bring down said razor to my neck, my neck I tells ya!!! (sorry been listening to a lot of Eminem lately) To other people it's endless queues, particularly in Starbucks. Speaking of queue, back in grade 5, when I had exactly two English words in my vocabulary, I would pronounce queue as kwe-we. There, I said it.

Lurs and Expletives and BRP and Washed-Out Prozac

                I didn’t care. I went out to our balcony, lit a bleeping cigarette, and blew carcinogenic smoke into the open air! And of all the bleeping people to see me.
                “Nakita ko ang anak mo sa balcony nyo. Nag-lulur!” the snitch told my mother. And who should this snitch be but... my grade 4 English teacher.
                Of all the plucking people.

Totally Frozen Brain With Tumors Inside

After waking up at 2pm on December 16 with the May 1 thought, “Now what,” and two weeks of pure nothingness, with no internet in sight (vinta, mayor’s permit, and NBI clearance required), and no significant personal interaction other than with my action figures, my brain has totally frozen. Which is preferable to a bleeding brain, bleeding brain from too much thinking in IM. Would still opt for a frozen brain--all those anticoagulants and drugs and criteria and protocols and learning-learning crap! Speaking of which, I have been having persistent headaches and of course I’m thinking of cancer. My mother thinks it’s from too much sleep. Upon coming home when residency ended I declared once and for all in the house, “Ayokong maghugas ng pinggan ever, ever.”

And since my brain has totally frozen (with tumors inside), I cannot compose proper reviews for the delightful and disgusting pop culture… stuff I was able to immerse myself with in the past two weeks, hence I will just LIKE and DISLIKE them with a few rants, in true frozen-brain-with-tumors-inside fashion.

Lost Finale- finally got the time to watch season 5 and season 6 (final season). Lost is still mostly boring, and these seasons are very manipulative, drawn-out, melodramatic at times, gimmicky, but still gee-whiz fun, and I still got all misty at the final, final scene. The last time I cried while watching something was… Toy Story 3. Lost Finale: LIKE.

Justice League International- For a twice a month title this series is fast-paced and action-packed, which is what we want want want from a comic book, not some introspective crap like Superman who is still walking, I think he’s in Nevada now. Ice is doing a Dark Phoenix, but I still LIKE this title, so LIKE.

Masterchef USA- LIKE. Because Whitney dropped the chicken and she still got to fry something properly in seven minutes, so there’s that supernatural aspect there. So LIKE. But my mom and sister would probably not like, as after every episode I would tell them something like: I want buttermilk fried chicken on a bed of collard greens but I want you to drop the chicken and fry another one seven minutes before I get to the table and it has to be cooked properly.

No Internet- Whereas back in residency I would grow hair in weird places if I don’t get to have internet for more than 48 hours, I noted that without internet I can do more productive stuff, like arrange my paperback novels alphabetically, make and unmake my bed 7x a day, sit alone in the veranda thinking of what diseases I probably have, and stuff. LIKE.

Adele's Rolling In the Deep- Like, because it's playing over and over in my head even as I toss and turn insomniacally on my bed and it's driving my crazy get out of my head Adele! Still, Like.

Quick rundown of old movies I’ve watched recently (some spoilers like you care)
Smilla’s Sense of Snow (1997)- Murder mystery which suddenly gives you a whiplash as it turns into an X-Files episode 3/4ths into the movie, plus the bitchy Smilla and really what the heck kind of name of Smilla! DISLIKE.

I Love You, Man (2009)- For the endless AHAHAHAHAHAAHAH’s from Paul Rudd and Jason Segel plus the girl from The Office and the peacocking guy from 17 Again: LIKE LIKE LIKE.

The Back-Up Plan (2010)- Starring J-Lo. Dislike is probably too mild for this, but hate is not appropriate either, as we reserve hate for more important things, like expensive lost X-ray plates. So we will just pretend that The Back-Up Plan does not exist. Or—OR, more appropriately, to quote BOTD’s movie review by text: “chaka!”

Vertigo (1958)- Because we enjoy seeing people free-falling from towers and such and we want to claim that we’ve watched an Alfred Hitchcock movie: LIKE.
Disturbia (2008)- DISLIKE the movie, but LIKE the idea of getting house-arrested for 3 months. 

Cabin fever setting in. Headache, nausea, fasciculations in strange places, the desire to pull out hair strands and eat them. I love it.

(This is a really old post I've discovered stashed away in my laptop, for more filler effect after a long hiatus.)

Saturday, January 1, 2011

Too Many People

In the malls. Everywhere. Because it’s Christmas. Not to be Ed Asner and Lily Tomlin in the X-Files episode How The Ghosts Stole Christmas, but I’ve been ranting to everyone that I think Christmas as an annual event is too much, too much I tells ya! I can still remember exactly what happened last Christmas Season. Or two Christmases ago. Because not only do we get temporarily insane this season, we also end up permanently poor. Of course Tits doesn’t think so, in fact he thinks Christmas should be held every quarter. Imagine that, Marks & Spencer would be really happy. I also also also think that people in the hospital are at more risk for death every Christmas season. Because for some reason, the CT skull, the diagnostic centers, the dialysis centers, the clinics, and the consultants all find it within themselves to celebrate the Christmas cheer and just leave patients and residents to hang out and dry. Once a year lang naman daw, but I still wouldn’t choose to develop uremia this season.

This year for more Christmas cheer I decided not to go out for days and days on end. After residency officially ended last December 15 and we had our gee-whiz batch goodbye’s and Christmas parties I’ve decided to… not go out of my room. Not exactly true, it’s been five days and I sometimes go out to the balcony to eat a sandwich. I’m finally reaping the rewards of my nefarious hoarding behavior. After years and years on end of downloading stuff in Shrine MotherFucker 1 I now have gigabytes of magnificent stuff to entertain me for weeks and weeks more, stuff to watch while I’m lying down and drinking Coke Lite supine. And I intend to never go out of the house for weeks and weeks, until I become a totally pale and obese and bearded troll, like Fox Mulder in the much rightfully maligned 2nd X-Files movie I Want To Believe. And right now I’m watching the wonderfully cheery The Virgin Suicides. For more Christmas cheer.


                Recently put a close to another chapter when residency ended, and fortunately the last few days were so bleeping busy and everyone was bustling with too much stuff to finish and submit and crap, or we would have been overwhelmed with senti-han portion. I don’t look like the senti-est person, but truly I couldn’t have found better people to have spent this three-year residency stint with. Of course there was the occasional nega, as could probably be expected from the intense, high-strung nature of our job, but at the end of the day these are the people I’ve spent more meals with, more time whining with, more drama, laughter, tears, and most importantly, peekchurifications with. Chief told us at the beginning of senior year, you are brothers and sisters, and like siblings you would have your differences, but no matter what you would still... love each other (dive!). I entered the program without really knowing most of them, but am now leaving with twenty-two friends I know I could just pull aside for synchronized whining. Thank you IM-Perfect, for taking turns injecting me with pain meds, for being such fun characters in this blog and being a great sport about it, for allowing me to take your picture wearing my Lantern rings. We've seen the best and whiniest sides of each other, and right now I’d want nothing more than to have action figures of each of you. Start thinking of your accessories.