Getting Rusty

I just HAD to draw this weekend (among other things i did).

I scanned up a couple of images in my sketchpad, tinkered with ol' reliable Adobe Photoshop and guess what I got? :)

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More on that stupid haircut



One of these guys has a really bad hair day, and probably just killed someone because of it... and the other is Wolverine.

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A bit rusty, but then again, it HAS been a while since i played with Photoshop... Or inked a drawing for that matter...

***Update: cant seem to upload the original in a hi-res setting without messing up my template... Arghh. Bear with me while i fix this

Bad Haircuts 101

We pay for stupid comments more than others.

Take this dialogue last week for instance:

Hairstylist: First time nyo dito sir?

Me: Ah no. I tried the your other branch in Makati. (It was a pretty swanky salon. Damn, Im turning metrosexual) Actually I liked my hair the last time, which is why im trying this branch.

HS: Ah! Ok sir! *starts snipping away* Who did your hair the last time?

Me: Im sorry, I really forgot.

HS: Ah, was it Edmund? Vincent? *rattles off a number of names*

Me: Im sorry, I really cant recall.

HS: Was he gay? Maybe its Vince... he's the only gay there. *snips again*

Me: Yeah. I think he was gay... *pause* Wait... are you telling me there ARE straight male hairstylists?

HS: *volatile silence* I... *snip* am.. *snip, snip* not... *snip* GAY. *snip, snip, SNIP!*

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Needless to say, I now sport the absolutely worst haircut I've had in years. It feels like Wolverine minus the ruggedly animalistic appeal.

Thats it -- Im definitely adding Straight Male Hairstylists in my "People not to throw potshots at while utterly defenseless" list.
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About Charles and Camilla? I think its great they're marrying. I mean, to actually go out in public with someone as un-Diana-like as Camilla and defend her in front of the whole British populace... it's gotta be love right?

Or as Jay Leno pointed out... maybe its only now that his eyesight got bad enough to want to marry her ;)

Sometimes I dont need to think of a post...

...it just happens.
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The Cabbie

I love taxis. Not only am I spared the hassles of driving in Manila's hostile traffic, but I also get to either think about what to do for the day, or just have a chat with another fellow slave in the Philippine system.

Taxi Drivers are good conversationalists. First, because driving around Manila's congested streets turns their brain slowly into mush, they jump at the first chance of any verbal communication.

Second, when you talk you know theres almost no way he can swindle you into buying or doing anything you dont want to. He doesnt need you to say good things about him, or even help him get hitched with a pretty friend of yours. All in all, You dont go thinking what his hidden agenda is. Its just an honest, if not intellectual discussion about anything under the sun.

Lastly, you never meet him again, and the same goes for him. So he'll most likely tell you about the secret escapades he does behind his wife's back, how he was bribed into buying votes for a certain candidate or maybe about the activities of that secret mafia organization in his neighborhood.

So you'll end up knowing how he saved up for his own taxi through his hard work in Dubai, how his modest income supported 5 or 6 kids that now end up as doctors or nurses, or basically about the interesting people who rode that day before you. You end up finding out how they really feel about FPJ, the FilAms in the PBA, the idiocities of the MMDA and how much better the good old days were. The number of stories are endless.

Because as far as they're concerned, the cab is their confessional box and I, the passenger who will never be seen again, am their absolver.

Yup. I love riding cabs.

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Anyway, I rode cab again this week and this is probably the most unique conversation I ever had. Well, maybe besides the one where he talked in detail about being the secret love slave of three different matronas at the same time. But that's another story.

Normally, Id shy away from writing in Filipino, but I really have to write it down as I heard it.

So there I was chatting away with the usual stuff with this cabbie and he suddenly asks me...

Taxi Driver: Teka, saan ba ulit yung pupuntahan natin?

Me: Ah malapit na. (mentions place)

TD: Yan nga ba yung malapit sa madaming nagshooshooting? (I live right next to a production house)

Me: Opo. Yun nga! Dun nga po tayo pupunta.

TD: (suddenly looks at me using the rearview mirror) Hmmm...

Me: Bakit po?

TD: Artista ka ano??!

Me: (gapes in surprise) Ndi po!

TD: Oo artista ka! Nakita na kita sa TV!

Me: Imposible po. Iba po yon.

TD: Ikaw yon. Pa-autograph naman para sa anak ko.

Me: Ndi po talaga ako artista!

TD: E bakit ka pupunta dun??

Me: Dun po ako sa katabing bahay.

TD: Sigurado kang ndi ka artista? Parang nakita na kita sa TV dati. May teleserye ka ba?

Me: Ako po??! Wala ho akong kaalam alam sa pag-arte. Ndi din ako bagay katabi ni Judai.

TD: (laughs) Ikaw ba yung komedyante na sumasakay taxi??! Nakakatawa ka e. Siguro pagdating natin dun papakita mo din ako sa TV ano?

Me: Si michael V po yon. Ang raket nya mag-drive ng taxi, ndi po maging pasahero (laughs)

TD: Ah oo nga. Alam ko na! Nasa Thats ka ba dati?

Me: Lalong ndi po! Wala po akong ka-talent talent sumayaw! (laughs)

TD: Ahhh... E ang lapit mo dun sa madaming shooting. Bakit ndi ka nadidiscover?

Me: (i suddenly couldnt help but laugh out loud) Siguro po dahil ndi ako karapatdapat madiscover! Lagi ako dumadaan dun, kahit na anong pagpapacute ko... sinusungitan lang ako ng mga gwardya at driver...

TD: Sigurado ka? Kahit extra?

Me: Ndi po talaga. Gusto ko nga sana mag extra kahit rapist lang ni Aubrey Miles e...

TD: Hahaha Hindi bagay sayo. Masyado ka mabait tignan.

Me: Kaya siguro ndi ako kinuha don...

(the production house comes into view)

TD: (suddenly serious. He rolls down his window and...) Gusto mo tawagin natin yung direktor? Para madiscover ka. Ok lang sa akin...

Me: Wag po! Rinerespeto po ako dito.

TD: (Rolls it up again) Haha sige ka.

Me: Kuntento na po ako sa buhay ko. Baka ipartner pa ako kay Jolina...

TD: Hahaha sige. 170 pesos po.

Needless to say, I tipped him generously. Best laugh I had this week.

Merrily Looking Back

I wanna be a rock star.

Or whatever they call them damn metrosexual vocalists who just yell, dance and basically make girls panties fall off nowadays.

Yeah, yeah I know. I know.

I dont have "the gift". I cant sing a tune if my life depended on it. And neither can I take to the dance floor without bludgeoning someone's feet.

But I know I'd succeed where countless other idol-wannabes have tried. **evil grin**

So what if I cant sing? So what if I cant dance? I have two things up my sleeve that'll make sure I make it big in MTV -- Drop dead gorgeous looks. And a good enough denial of reality.

Videoke... Do your worst!

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Seriously. As a kid, I never really wanted to be a rockstar. Or an entertainer. Or even a blogger that bastardized everything around him.

I wanted to be a scientist. I wanted to create the cure for cancer, invent something that will create world peace or even save the world from a race of evil aliens hell-bent on turning humanity into a bunch of brain-eating zombies.

Or if I couldnt be a scientist, I'd be something like Indiana Jones (ok so technically he WAS a scientist) scouring the world for ancient artifacts that would benefit humanity... which someone would steal later on and give me the excuse to whip the asses of a thousand bad guys and run off with yet another nubile young sidekick.

But I digress. I had big dreams then. Noble dreams that would make me leave my mark in history as the Legendary Figure most idolized by guys and most swooned over by girls.
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I wanted to be a scientest.

As a kid I looked for stuff out of the ordinary and started bringing them home. Rocks, crystals, plants, spices, shells and other items that caught my interest. With or without their owner's permissions of course.

At four, I spurned Sesame Street and Batibot and instead got immersed early on in books about science, encyclopedias and other nerdy stuff. And so it was that during the Pre-Jurassic Park era, I was the 5-year old who shamelessly taught my Kindergarten teacher the difference between a T-Rex and a Stegosaurus in front of her class (She remembers me until now. Shuddering.)

I played with fire early on- creating flame throwers from cans WD-40 and some other household chemicals, happily noting down which particular combinations fried the garden toads and salamanders the fastest.

I had the knack for making things grow. I dabbled with orchids at our backyard garden. I raised a number of fruit trees and vines. I even had a couple of rabbits, some ducks and and big-ass chicken that scared of the neighborhood cats.

Yep. The god of science was smiling at me those years. Blessing me with gifts only I could use. Showing me a future full of inventions that would benefit all. If I only walked with him.

And then something happened. It was something called Adolescence.

Because it was during those malleable adolescent years, that they started airing replays of MacGyver.

(to be continued...)

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Next on Soloflite's Merrily Looking Back...

Soloflite and friend try to replicate MacGyver's "swamp gas" episode... and miserably fail... Spreading instead enough ammonia in the Dorm Manager's office that made it unfit for human habitation for days...