Forty Candles On A Birthday Cake

That one show we all grew up with. And I mean all of us regardless of age considering it’s been running for the past four decades. We know the opening theme song by heart. Sunny day, chasing the clouds away! Even now I sing it to myself specifically to keep from biting someone’s head off. Maybe because it reverts my mind back to when I was young and carefree and did not have to deal with adulthood on a daily basis.

We learned to count from that animated sequence that shows a pin ball hitting the numbers one to twelve. And learned the difference between near and far thanks to Grover’s demonstration. And sang along to the rubber ducky song.

We know that spiel they go into after each episode. Sesame Street has been brought to you today by the letter C and the number 7. Sesame Street is a production of the Children’s Television Workshop.

So from all of us kids who spent our afternoons with Big Bird, Kermit, Ernie, Bert, Oscar the Grouch, and the rest of the characters that were as much a part of our childhood as scraped knees and climbing trees:

Happy birthday Sesame Street!

 

The Queue

In my aversion for Erap and his imminent plans for candidacy, I swallowed my political indifference and got myself registered. I am not proud of the fact that I’m a 27-year-old first-time voter but there never was compulsion to make the effort. Until now that is. Thank you Erap for making a better citizen out of me. If only for that, you have done a good thing. There maybe a million things wrong with this country but it doesn’t deserve to be internationally humiliated by having an ex-convict/reject for president (again). Not that I think my vote will tip the scales but whatever the outcome, at least I did what I could to keep this aberration from happening. Then again, there’s always Siberia.

Moving on…

The COMELEC registration nightmare was admittedly self-inflicted. I procrastinated to no end and was rightfully punished. We all know that being a Filipino citizen is synonymous to being a veteran of government-induced waiting. If you haven’t gone through it at some point in your adult life, it only means that A) you are a pampered offspring of some rich and powerful individual or B) you’ve been living under a rock. But let me just state this for those who are unaware: that was without a doubt the longest line I have ever had to suffer through…ever!

In the twelve hours or so I spent accomplishing this incredible test of fortitude, it dawned on me that all that was a tangible metaphor for life. You stand for hours in the sweltering heat waiting for your name to be called. You’re tired. You’re bored. Along the way, you make small talk with complete strangers just so you can find someone to commiserate with.

You go through Kübler-Ross’s five stages of grief:

1. Denial – It couldn’t possibly be this long!

2. Anger - Stupid government can’t even get their act together! Are these people allergic to efficiency?

3. Bargaining – Oh please God, just let it move two feet. I promise I will never procrastinate again!

4. Depression - What’s the point of all this? This country is beyond help either way.

5. Acceptance – Screw it, I’ll just wait…

When it’s finally your turn, it takes five minutes and it’s all over. Then you drag your sorry carcass home.

After all is said and done, I know the Chinese have it worse. That makes me feel a little better. So that’s that. Next year I vote.

 

VOTE! Just NOT For Him!

I generally avoid soiling my blog with Philippine politics but this is simply outrageous. Browsing through the Inquirer website, I came across this article about Presidential hopeful Joseph Estrada (oh yes…that same one who insulted our collective intelligence. The one we rallied in the streets to oust not too long ago. Why he is even allowed out to wreak havoc, don’t ask).

This blew my top off. Here are his words of wisdom, my friends. And if after mulling it over, you still haven’t figured out why we are where we are, then you need to bang your head against the wall. Seriously.

MANILA, Philippines—Of five presidential aspirants who spoke Tuesday on how they intended to address poverty, only Joseph Estrada said “jueteng” should be legalized.

The ousted President said millions of families were benefiting from the illegal numbers game and that he favored legalizing it “until the time we find alternative jobs for our people.”

“I am not tolerating it but I am for the legalization of jueteng,” said Estrada, who was convicted of plunder in 2007 for accepting jueteng kickbacks but was quickly pardoned by President Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo.

Surely you jest, sir!

I’m confused. You see, within the realm of reason when you say you do NOT tolerate something it usually means you will take drastic measures to curtail it. NOT LEGALIZE IT! And since when did jueteng become the only viable source of income? Is that the big solution? Let the country run amok because you can’t think of anything else to alleviate poverty?

How convenient is that by the way? Seeing as he did go to jail for that  same thing and all. Something’s askew, don’t you think?

Speaking of ousted presidents, at least Marcos had the decency to have a brain. He stole our money and plunged the country into debt but he didn’t add insult to injury by being completely tactless.

If this moron wins, I’m moving to Siberia.

 

Waxing Poetic, Waxing Inebriated

This here is a snapshot of my favorite joint in town called Burby’s.

If you don’t already know where that is, I won’t tell you. You might flock there en masse and we’ll never get a good table. And that’s primarily why I love it so much. They’re never really full even on Saturday nights. It’s not too high class, unlike some places where people show up to gawk and be gawked at. You can wear a t-shirt you’ve owned since high school and not feel alienated. So it’s like drinking in your own living room but at the same time you’re still out.

Not only do they have the best chicken fingers, they also serve a dark lager called Black and Tan that comes in a TALL (and I mean tall) glass. That kids, along with a side of blue flaming Devil’s Advocate will get the job done faster than you can read that sign hoisted above your head.

Oh yes! The sign. And I’m not talking about that Ace of Base song we all danced to at one point. I consider it a perk: a bar with an odd (and most likely inadvertent) sense of humor. If the conversation goes wry, it’s there to crack me up. And when I’m too intoxicated to catch the irony, I just look up at their wrought iron chandelier and stare. The only letdown is that they’re closed on Sundays. My theory is that that’s when they turn the place into a chapel and celebrate mass.

I mean how else would you explain “God is good” in the watering hole?

 

Ano Daw?

After swinging by the museum in Greenbelt, we decided to eat at The Kitchen.

The Beached Bear orders a glass of lemon grass iced tea.

Me: Lemon grass? Sounds like something rich people would order.

Beached Bear: Have a sip. It tastes vaguely like sago’t gulaman.

Me: It’s sago’t gulaman after blowing up and killing someone with a hatchet.

Beached Bear: It’s sago’t gulaman after blowing up and killing someone with a hatchet and then dancing to (Wonder Girls’) Nobody.

Does this conversation qualify as a food review? I dunno..