Wednesday, November 30, 2011

Tatarin

I saw a local movie called Tatarin in ATC years and years ago, back when I could still watch horrific movies in theaters and stuff. It was supposedly based on a Nick Joaquin short story we've read in Hum 1 back in college, but there were too many exposed breasts, vegetable phallic symbolism, and moaning in the movie which we've never seemed to notice in the short story. The movie is incomprehensible crap. The final scene has the main guy (I even forgot actor) licking girl's foot, which seemed like a metaphor for cunnilungus. I don't know how we've reached that conclusion, maybe we were just bastos, but it did seem like cunnilungus. Credits suddenly rolled, lights turned on, the end. A woman in the audience stood up and screamed "WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT? WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?!?!"

I am reminded of this when we went to Ocean Park today for a section annual meeting. After the meeting where the year was capped off and I got ecstatic that I have once again triumphed in my goal of minimum requirement, we went to see the attractions. We fell in line for the penguins. Uni-Horned Beef Jerky Alanis Whore loves penguins, and I love Batman's villain The Penguin, so the half-hour line should be worth it. After watching the cute penguins dive and swim and stuff we fell in line yet again for the snow room. Truly there would be penguins gallivanting and jumping around and all golly-gee. Wearing our jackets we excitedly went to the snow room. It was cold and... it was cold. There were no penguins. But there were benches. And a few steps to the right we saw a door that said: Exit. We exited. Attraction over.

All together now: WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?!? WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT????!!!!

Except, only we were screaming that. Families and crap were sitting on the benches and playing in the huge ref and taking pictures and gallivanting frolicking traipsing fun fun fun and stuff. Which incurred a second round of an even louder: WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT? WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?????!

Wednesday, November 23, 2011

Vanishing Room, Cinoroborate

Pinaalala pa kasi ni The Daw aka BOTD aka Supervillainess Helliza. Natatakot tuloy ako ulit bigla.

Sa mga panahong ito ay nagtatrabaho ako sa isang lugar na kung tawagin ay Cancer Institute. Tuwing tinatanong ako ng ibang tao kung hindi ba raw ako nahihirapang mag "disclose" ng diagnosis sa mga pasyente at pamilya nila, sinasabi ko na kalimitan ay hindi. Dahil tignan pa lang nila kung nasaan sila ay dapat medyo alam na nila, so ika nga, we don't need to beat around the bush (pilit na pilit ang expression, gusto ko lang kasi sabihin ang salitang "bush") Hindi ito tinatawag na Wellness Institute, or Recovery Institute, o kahit man lamang Institute of Neoplasms. Direct to the point, alam ng lahat, kung ano ang Cancer. Dati nga nung bata mga bata pa kami at naglalaro kami ng nanay at mga kapatid ko ng Scrabble ay bawal magbuo ng salitang Cancer. Bawal sabihin o isipin.

Pero ang pinaalala bigla ni Helliza ay ang supposedly mga katatakutan na nangyayari dito. Nung mga intern pa lamang kami, isa sa mga malulungkot na duty ay ang CI. Ilang oras ka kasing uupo sa isang sulok, magbabasa basa kunwari, at mag-iintay na may lumabas na mga tray na pang swero o dumating ang oras na mag-monitor ng mga kinikimo. Kikimo talaga. Minsan isang 12 midnight habang naka-duty tumakas ako. Pumunta ako sa malapit na Mini-Stop at kumain ng ice cream. Wala namang nangyari.

Pinaalala lang bigla ni Helliza na may mga ghosts and stuff sa building na ito. Kung tutuusin hindi naman ganun karami ang namamatay dito, dahil bago sila mag-toxic and stuff ay kaagad na silang nililipat sa ward. Pero sabi ni Helliza, may mga small kids na multo daw na tumatakbo-takbo taas-baba sa malapad na hagdan. Minsan sa kakatakbo nila ay umaabot sila sa katabing Ophtha building kung saan kinukulbit nila ang mga intern at clerk lalo na pag natutulog. Tumatakbo-takbo rin daw sila pag gabi sa gitna kung saan nandoon ang fountain.

Pero ang mas nakakatakot, at cinoroborate (ano totoong tagalog dito?) ng iba pang tao, ay ang small room na... nawawala. Minsan habang nagmomonitor ka daw ay bigla na lang may kwartong hindi mo makita. Para ka daw nasusukob or namamatanda o nakakapre, basta hindi mo mahanap ang kwartong ito na malapit sa elevator. Na paglingon mo, andun na ulit! Ang hirap-hirap na nga mag monitor at mag insert ng linya at kumuha ng dugo sa mga sunog na ugat, magva-vanish pa ang kwarto for MORE kahirapan. Hell talaga. Hellellel.

Kaya kung dati, hindi lang ako tumitingin sa mga salamin sa CI pag gabi, ngayon di na rin ako tumitingin sa fountain. At sa hagdan, pinakamabilis akong bumaba. Hindi pa nakatulong na nagpictorial pa bigla ang Cardio section dito for their winner presentation, kaya pang Kilabot Komiks na talaga:

(credits to photographer)

GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH! Pinakanakakatakot ang pag-tilt ng ulo ni Melgar, parang may hawak na kutsilyo sa likod.

Sunday, November 20, 2011

Blog Minefield: Random Conversations With Total Strangers

While comfortably sitting in Shrine Motherfucker 1 trying to write a short story about a guy who thinks he's so ugly he slashes his face with a razor blade, who should strike a conversation with me but the guy (a newbie) sitting in Shrine Motherfucker 2. He initially asked about politics and stuff, so I said some vague stuff that can only be translated as: I don't know anything about it. Spontaneous conversations with total strangers can be fun at times specially when my friends have no new blog entries to read (Alert: BOTD, HTGOF, SIU, Walking on Water). Interestingly there was no uncomfortable silence, because there was... no silence. So I could just type, download, click like, write, and read comic books while muttering vague "uh-huh's" while the soliloquy was going on.

"But you look so young," newbie guy said.
I find this expression corny, but the only appropriate response to this (in my head), is: ahem ahem ahem. Once again I've opened up 30 minutes of my attention because of this opening line. Maybe he has read my blog specifically  http://specialagentfoxmulder.blogspot.com/2011/10/nno.html When I've told Popopopoker Face Popopoker Face of a similar random conversation in SMF1 years ago, his input was: Maybe he wants to fuck you. Why thank you Popopopoker Face Popopoker Face, I need all the flattery I could get in all forms, shapes, and sizes.

Newbie guy went on and on about politics, growing up in the States, speaking English in Manila, the plight of the Filipinos in the States, etc etc etc. Meanwhile I've finished reading the disgusting Red Hood and The Outlaws issue #3 and Catwoman #3 in my laptop. I've also updated my iPod and discovered ways to recover my lost Smurfs Village. Finally I found the most opportune escape clause when he asked,

Newbie Guy: How do I make sure I don't get stabbed while walking in Ermita?
Me: Easy. You need to go home early.

In a few minutes he was gone and thus endeth the conversation.

Saturday, November 19, 2011

Murder Mystery in CI

Not really a murder mystery, but I've been perusing through my old Hercule Poirot stories and it's just fun when he screams, in David Suchet voice, of course, "MURDER!"

The mystery I'm referring to in this instance is, of course, the sudden disappearance for more than twenty-four hours now necessitating a search and rescue operation... of the interns' Cancer Institute logbook! That precious logbook, containing endless thrills in the form of your intern stalkees' cell phone numbers, those puerile but fun doodles, and most importantly, the much treasured ever-growing list of residents and fellows nominated to be cast down to hell in a form of a really fugly effigy washed in gasoline to be burned--BURNED!!!--come the ceremonious May 1 Sunog! I might be one of the suspects, being a fixture in the building and stuff, except that I know that I'm not in the evolving Sunog list, because I know, I know, because... I've taken a peek! While the intern-on-duty was busy inserting an IV line to a totally veinless chemo-fied dehydrated patient!!! Now I'm implicating myself more!!! AHAHAHAHAAHAHAH!!!!

I didn't do it. And I wasn't on the list not because I'm totally lovable, but because... nobody knows who we are! Because we're just these expressionless, zombified Hellows lugging around chemicals and stuff who only have one thing in our minds: when can I go home. AHAHAHHAH. AHAHAHAAHAH!!!!

So there. Now that I've totally ruled myself out maybe the right suspects would be fingered. I'm not even sure if the verb "fingered" is right, it doesn't sound right, in fact it sounds totally bastos, I'm just translating directly from Tagalog, ie, turo. Obviously I am writing this in the event that something bad happens to me, because I know, I know..... The List.

Purge!

Been having quite a difficult time in many respects lately (as if I haven't whined about these things enough), but I've declared a couple of days ago that what would push me to the edge is if my gadgetifications start going insane. There's just something specifically infuriating about gadgetifications going insane, and I always recall that ad of a cable TV show about computer problems where an office cubicle employee gets so infuriated at his desktop he rips it off his table and throws the damn thing in the trash can while screaming like crazy.

So OF COURSE I've incurred a gadgetification mishap. As soon as I've declared that getting pushed to the edge drama. In the hurly burly of the upcoming onco section accreditation there have been a lot of file swaps through emails, USB's and stuff (ie, I didn't get the powerful virus from downloading porn. We're no longer in high school shame on you). Now I've always been pretty mayabang about my first generation Lenovo, as it has never broken down in 3 years and a half. So of course it has to happen in the midst of--just because I want to say it--a hurly burly. 

I've fixed it soon enough, of course, after a quickie run of internal screaming, whining, cursing, moaning, groaning, and we can go on and on for more similar verbs. And in true empath fashion what should suddenly play in my intelligent iPot as I was finally getting successful in reformatting was... EHeads' Alapaap. AHAHAHAHAAHAHAH. The good thing is that now it is totally purged of trash, and I feel like a new man. For synchronicity I got a haircut, also because no amount of powerful hair gel/wax can flatten the damn thing down and it's starting to look really big like a separate creature on my head. I've once tried my brother's hair wax which was still not able to flatten it, but was able to mold my hair into different shapes and sizes. Even after washing it off for days and days on end you could still mold the bleeping thing into a fucking anvil.


Sunday, November 13, 2011

Clang! Clang! Clang!

One of the things I like doing when I'm at home on weekends other than stare at the ceiling for hours on end is looking at stuff I can throw in the trash or give to other people or sell. So I opened my closets wide open to look for useless crap! 90% of my closet space contains comic book long boxes, and I realized I don't have any clothes in my room!

The other 10% contains:
College and med books- useless crap, but too heavy to carry or throw to the trash. They carry no sentimental value whatsoever, and whatever reservations I had then that I would probably read them when I have the time have been pulverized years and years ago. Keep.

College papers, newspapers, magazines, folios and other publications that carry my published stuff. Will not throw out. In the off chance that I die soon and I become posthumously famous, people might get interested in that old essay where I wished I were a cat. Or that short story where I swapped brains with a cat. My deceased cats would be proud. Keep.

Cassette tapes, VHS recordings of X-Files, mixed tapes which carry a lot of memory- since mixed tapes and the X-Files bring comfort in nostalgification: Keep.

And finally:
Medals- the term "useless crap" does not even begin to describe their uselesscrapness. They gather dust, might contain deadly metals, and do not even carry any nostalgic or self-esteem-boosting worth. If anything they signify the most embarrassing portions of my life. AHAHAHAHAHA. I looked at the medals' labels and my favorites: Grade 3 mini-olympics: CHESS. Mini-olympics! AHAHAHAHAHA. But nothing takes up space more than... a TROPHY. I've just remembered: I have a tall bleeping trophy! This might sound totally cool except that the label reads: Quiz Bee on Consumerism. CONSUMERISM! What the hellellellel! AHAHAHAHAHAAH. I've just remembered one question in this quiz bee, something about from how many meters must a price tag on a grocery item be visible for it to be a valid price tag. THROW THROW THROW! THROOOOOOOOOOW!!!!!! When my mom's not looking.

Monday, November 7, 2011

Supervillainess

Chanced upon Supervillainess Helliza and HTGOF in Shrine Motherfucker 1. Strangely Shrine Motherfucker 1 is quite devoid of people, probably because it's sem break. Having run out of blogs to ridicule and having exhausted all valid points on being cat or dog people Helliza brought up something out of the left field.

Helliza: Special Agent Fox Mulder, why not date Smoketh? Smoketh: Because it would be incest and that would be gross.
Helliza wouldn't be stopped. She was on full supervillainess mode tonight.
Helliza: HTGOF, why not date Special Agent Fox Mulder?

Back in clerkship while I was on duty in the OB admitting section I was tasked to monitor the cervical cancer garden. All of a sudden a patient sadly went on code and I had to scream code and had to do the chest pumping and stuff in the area beside the patient rest room. As we were conducting the code a pregnant patient happened to be walking out from the rest room. She saw the events, and she immediately fainted. I was at the time being relieved by Helga in doing the chest compression, and, being a bibo-bibohan busy-busyhan clerk who should never be caught not doing anything, I leaped to the fainting patient and caught her in my arms. In pure nervousness at what she has just experienced not only did she faint, but she fucking crapped. All over the floor, and all over my pants.

In the two seconds that it took me to shift from being quietly bewildered and mortified to letting out a bloodcurdling scream as I stared at the human crap on my pants, my interns and residents said that my facial expression was such that it was so contorted that it could not be described. That is, it could not be described back in 2004.

Because now it CAN be properly described! It is exactly akin to the facial expression of HTGOF when Supervillainess Helliza suggested us dating! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

And for that we give HTGOF's facial expression.... the prestigious 2011 AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA Awards! All together now: AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHHAHAHAH!

Sunday, November 6, 2011

Alternative Career for Lochia

Back in high school I actually thought I would like to become a lawyer. Gross. Utterly, utterly gross. This is probably borne out of my being thrusted into a couple of debate competitions within the school. Again, utterly utterly bleeping gross. I did not know a single thing about debating, in my head i would rather be watching WWF, and really, debating is for people who can actually maintain a train of thought uninterrupted by "do I have a blank VHS tape on which to record The X-Files tonight?" Our favorite debate moment was that at one time, a judge was announcing percentage scores for each speaker. I'm not sure if this is how debates are really conducted, but at one point the the judge announced the scores: "JAPT, 94%!!! Namtab Pots, 96%!!! and Crashalimar... 32%!!!!" At which our classmates let out raucous laughter unabashedly. At one point when our teacher was asking for topic suggestions on what to debate about a classmate suggested quite earnestly:

Sushmita Sen, did she really deserve to win?
Which a classmate tried to one-up with: High tide, or low tide?
So 1994.

Have been watching for a few weeks now the ANC debates with law schools dishing out their arguments and stuff in front of judges and stuff. Today the topic was essentially on how to deal with MILF. MILF has recently taken on a new term, and every time somebody argues, "Give concession to the MILF!!!" I always imagine a different form of concession being given to a different kind of MILF.

As much as I hate these debates and stuff they do have their entertaining value. We like it when we see alar-flaring, forehead-slapping really high-strung contestants. I am probably just jealous: as I said I cannot maintain a coherent thought, in two-seconds I can confuse myself on which side I'm really on, and when I have nothing else to rebut with I would probably just say, "Bakit ba." You know who would be a good debater? Lochia. Lochia can easily confuse his competitors with such statements as:

"Are you not aware that despite the government not having to not address without prejudice the non-withdrawal of military resources that were not disclaimed yesterday, there has been no unequivocal response from MILF that did not merely result in them not withdrawing their own supposed non-attack?!?!"

In which case the opposing side would just have to answer, "er... yes. No. Yes." 

Crap and A Sell-Out

Years and years ago during semestral or summer breaks one of my personal projects would be to write as many short stories as I could, which I would later badger Mrs. Therese to read. She was a good friend like that, having to endure endless pages of neurotic ramblings. She would return my stories a few days later with lots of comments, which are funnier than the stories themselves. Since residency happened I've stopped reading a lot of fiction, which led to me not being able to write fiction as well. My theory is my short story writing style is greatly affected by the last author I've read. The last time I've written fiction was in July 2010. It was a short story about a young doctor's first experience to sign the death certificate. Just typing that already makes me retch. I've asked Smoketh to read it before I submitted it to a national publication, and she labelled it as "crap" and a "sell-out". It got published in a national publication. I showed it to Smoketh after I got a copy in 7-11, now in magazine format. Smoketh still labelled the story as "crap" and a "sell-out". I never told anyone in the callroom about it, until someone got hold of it for some reason. Eds read it out loud. Everyone fucking retched at every sentence AHAHAHAHA. Rightfully so.

Fiction is just more difficult to write than, say, a blog entry where everything goes. The structure is more complex, you can't go on forever unless you want everyone to go back to facebooking, and in terms of submitting one for actual publication I find it tricky to sort of balance what the current standards of short fiction are with my own personal style. In the aforementioned story there appeared to have been no balance, hence it being a total fucking sell-out. It is also infuriating that, having been in the hospital for the past ten years or so the first characters that come to mind are healthcare-related characters. The setting has becoming very limiting, which is obviously just an excuse for stunted imagination.

Certain events have led me to want to try my hand at fiction again. Maybe I'll pepper this blog with those practice stories and bore everyone to tears.

Saturday, November 5, 2011

Self-Indulgent Entry

Consider the following events that happened in the past couple of weeks:
1. Lalaloo has been blogging again! And she has listed her twenty favorite things in response to an ad where the writer wrote his twenty favorite things. Check out her blog at lalaloo10.blogspot.com.
2. In a recent episode of How I Met Your Mother Barney's girlfriend suddenly blared into the Sound of Music song "My Favorite Things".
3. Last week Callistus Netromedev enthusiastically texted me as he was leaving the theater, "I've just watched The Sound of Music musical! It's fantastic!" and being a downer I've just replied "I fucking hate musicals!" Yes, I'm a total jerk like that.
4. In a recent blog entry, Neurologist Shipper Jack Knight has posted a comment... to the tune of My Favorite Things!!!

Obviously My Favorite Things is begging to be discussed. Hence, I will also list... my favorite things!!! Ahahahaha. More specifically, these are the things I want to ram inside my mouth right now, because I am just so very hungry. I am usually anorexic and subsist on two meals a day, but my cancer seems to have been spontaneously regressing the past few days and I actually have an appetite. So these are... The Top Ten Things I Want Want Want To Ram In My Mouth Right Now Because I Am Just So Fucking Hungry!!! I usually have an aversion to entries about wanting stuff, but I am just... so... hungry.

1. Cherry Coke. The last time I drank one was years and years ago, and I'm still DREAMING (OA) of it every single fucking day (for more OA). Is this gone? Is it? Is IT?!? If it is, would Ventolin syrup-spiked Coke taste the same? Would it? Would IT?!?!
2. Chori Burger from Bun on the Run. Is this also totally gone? Do I really want want want it, or is it nostalgia?
3. UP Diliman isaw in a cup of vinegar, the one in Ilang-Ilang. Calling Mrs. Therese!
4. Toffifee, because it tastes good, is also a piece of nostalgia, and is also expensive and hence unattainable making it seem like it tastes better than it probably does. Also, it's fun to say Toffifee.
5. Chicken curry.
6. Cornik.
7. Subway. Somebody bring bleeping Subway to Rob! We want a sandwich bursting at the seams with all sorts of vegetarian stuff with vinegar and stuff! Also, there are these Subway ads in DC Comics where sports figures are raving about... avocado dressing! Yes, we are sosyal, we want want want avocado dressing!
8. Ampalaya.
9. Sunflower seeds. Because I've always imagined I'm Mulder who always chews on sunflower seeds and... wears gray boxers! AHAHAHAHHAAHHA I know, disgusting disgusting image.
10. Pizza with lots and lots and lots of gulay.

So bleeping hungry.

Getting Some

We are now in issues 2 and 3 of the DC relaunch issues, and whatever steam the relaunch has created has, as expected, been quickly lost. That's because, as I've said, this relaunch is totally unnecessary. After the first issues I had the following scores for these titles, as usual represented by action figures:

Action Comics by Grant Morrison, Batman by Scott Snyder, Wonder Woman by Brian Azarello, Aquaman by Geoff Johns, Green Lantern by Geoff Johns, New Guardians by Peter Tomasi, Superboy by Scott Lobdell, Voodoo by Ron Marz, Batwoman by JH Williams, All-Star Western, and Flash by Francis Manapul.

Assessment: Each gets 4-5 quality DC Direct action figures, for just being strong stories in themselves, or for being over-all entertaining, fresh, and promising. These stories kind of made me want to eat my own words full of vitriol which I let out at the news of relaunch.

Justice League of America by Geoff Johns, Detective Comics by Tony Daniels, Batman The Dark Knight, Teen Titans by Lobdell, Mr. Terrific, Suicide Squad, Hawkman, Hawk and Dove, Red Hood and the Outlaws, and SUPERMAN.

Assessment: Each receives an unsightly Marvel Legends action figure as relaunched by Hasbro back in 2008. Because they are quite... not to be nega but they are quite... awful.  Superman is one long, ranty, incomprehensible mess, and just for being specially disappointing being a major title and all I am awarding this title in particular the disgusting White Queen Hasbro action figure. Birds of Prey, Oracle, and Batgirl have been my favorite characters in the old DCU, so just for changing the status quo I am also giving each of them an ugly action figure. They can have my Deathlok Marvel Legends action figure which I've bought only to build the damn Galactus build-a-figure. 

The rest just tread the middle ground: Green Lantern Corps, Nightwing, Legion of Superheroes, Blackhawk, etc. Justice League Dark is at least funny for sounding like a chocolate variant, like Justice League with Mint, and Justice League Coconut.

Having said all that I am reserving a special paragraph for Catwoman. See, as it happens, I've been catching up on back issues of Ed Brubaker's fantastic Catwoman run when the relaunch happened. Brubaker's Catwoman is strong, problematic but level-headed, and quite multidimensional. And in the relaunch we get a very unlikeable Catwoman who might eventually grow on me, and of course she's a reboot so she might get emotionally-stable and be more heroic in the future, and all that, but my problem with the Catwoman relaunch is this:


I have no problem with Catwoman getting some. Or Batman getting some. Of course they get a lot of some. But there's dirty sex, and then there's dirty sex. Catwoman has just been chased by thugs and ran through the streets and all that, and we know what they say about sweaty black leather. And also, in this scene Batman has like 20 packs.

Thursday, November 3, 2011

Flipped

Still avoiding the threatening 12-hour Godfather folder from The Helliza Files, so what should I click next but the movie Flipped. Secret shame: I have these sporadic compulsions to watch these hour-and-a-half rom coms, specially if they are extremely funny, and most specially if they are extremely formulaic and bad to the point of unintentional hilarity. And most specially if I don't have to download them myself, and I can just copy them from the supervillainess Helliza. Enough rationalization. Bakit ba. AHAHAHAHAHAHA.

As it turned out Flipped is more of a coming-of-age movie than a traditional rom-com. At the onset you get the feeling that this is a movie based on a short story or a novel, and because this paragraph is starting to sound like a review like totally, I will now drop lazy, random movie review terms just to get it over with: gravitas, pathos, versimilitude, parallelisms, vivisection. Maybe not vivisection. I just have a fondness for these sort of growing-up stories with the classic elements: summer, neighborhood, endearing grandparents, the awkwardness of first love. And the unique elements, in this case we have the sycamore tree and being a basket boy.

I informed Helliza that although things started to turn around at the end and nothing horrible really happened like the girl falling from the very tall sycamore tree, Flipped is actually a pretty depressing movie. I had no idea what was at the core of feeling quite sad at the end of the film, but supervillainness Helliza who can psychoanalyze by text had this explanation: Nakakainggit kasi na bata pa lang sila ay may true love na sila.

All together now: AHAHAAHAHAHAAHAHAAHAH!