Search and You Shall Find in My World

11 March 2010

Crazy drivers and other stories

My driver was nagging from the time I climbed in until about 30 minutes during the ride. He was talking about a shit-of-a-traffic-enforcer-who-only-wanted-money because he was ticketed a few minutes before I took the ride. He was caught stopping for passengers in a No Stopping zone.

He was annoyingly nagging all the way that every jeepney who happened to came in closer to his car was shared the opinion he has about those slimy traffic enforcers.

I shared my unsolicited views about violations and that the enforcer was right. I was wrong. The more he blabbed about so and so I have to put my headphones on.

You see, traffic enforcers and drivers are all crazies, lunatics, whatever. There are laws around Cebu including No Stopping signs that are ignored everyday. Drivers in general, abuse those signs and rarely get apprehended. And it is understandable enough if drivers tattle about enforcers. Not until today.

Because of the crazy life in urban places, my mental health got retarded. And it showed in my body. My abs has bloated, my arms lacked strength and my entirety deficient in form and spirit.

So I went to a new hotel downtown and inquired their rates so I could go there after a break in my short job. I was aghast.

Their monthly rate is 900 pesos a month with only the airconditioned gym they could brag about, except a few pieces of a treadmill here, some barbells and dumb bells, one bike. Hmmm.

No shower. No sauna. You use the CR near the hotel lobby if you want to pee. Crazy!

Meanwhile there is an unknown gym somewhere in the Colon area that offered 10 pesos an hour. What do you expect with that kind of rate? Free sauna of course. I mean, the place is suffocatingly hot you don’t need sauna after all.


A friend of mine asked me why gays suddenly flourished when they could not even produce kids. I don't know why. Anyone?


The construction workers were huddling during a break and planning a coup d'etat. Not for their supervisors, mind you. Those workers aired their plight with the wives. While they were working to the bones, their other halves were watching Wowowee, their feet painted red up in the couch. Everyone agreed and shared their disgust. I did not know what was their resolution. I went in to a much cooler place to cool down my head.


Itin was hired again by some company as a staff of a high-class yacht that will travel around Europe. Boktot, her sis, invited me to join them for a send-off dinner for Itin at Abaseria.

We ordered ginataang monggo with alugbati, Indonesian fried chicken, adobong kangkong, inun-onang lapu-lapu, some red rice and the spicy ginamos I truly desired. I had a hell of a dinner and no longer minding my bloated stomach.

That was the sanest thing that happened to me.



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