Note: This is an incredibly long post. Beware.
I was into my nth bottle of beer at Spencers in Angeles City watching the good doctor screaming at the TV and grasping the microphone with both hands as if it were a slippery eel when symptoms of internet withdrawal hit me real bad. I grabbed a bottle of mineral water and went outside the bar to get some air. In fairness to Doc Z, he wasn’t really screaming (at least for the most part), he was nailing a Hinder song as if it was composed especially for him. I shook my head at the injustice of it all. Here you have a guy who makes a living looking at girls huhus, who’s devilishly handsome, has a rockstars voice, and on top of that, he even has Lyle(biro lang)! It was slowly turning into a pity party for me and the sun hasn’t even come out yet. But that’s not how this story should start. Heck that’s not even how my day started….
How My Day Started
It was a rude awakening. That should be my first line. As a nocturnal animal by choice, and by profession, I usually sleep when the sun comes out and wake up when the sun is at its Megan Fox-est (read hottest). On that particular morning however, I was unceremoniously, mercilessly, brutally dragged away from the loving bossoms of Scarlett Johansson by the incessant beeping of my iPhone (yes Doc, it’s not a mobile phone). It was Bloggista texting me at 9 frigging am, robbing me of my happy time with that blonde bombshell (oh the cruelty of it all). He texted just to say that he couldn’t make it, as he’s still having coffee with three females and he has yet to discover everyone’s nook and cranny. The lucky &^%$#, waking me up just to brag about his conquest(s). I said ‘ok’ and dove right back into bed hoping to catch Scarlett in another form of undress in my sleep.
Unfortunately when I re-entered the halls of lalaland, Chocoleyt (the stand up comedian) was waiting instead, holding a pair of handcuffs and wearing nothing but a feather boa. I almost puked even if I haven’t imbibed alcohol the night before. I scrambled away from that dreamy hall while trying to scratch my eyes out, hoping to erase the burning image from my memory. Too late. It’s now, how do I say this, tattooed in my mind.
I woke up for the second time that morning bathed in cold sweat. I grabbed a bottle of Crystal (I wish), popped the cork and drank everything in one go. I looked at my watch and saw that it was already half-past eleven. Fricking-fracking how long was I running from that guy? After I regained my composure I sat in front of my computer and proceeded to watch a few episodes of One Piece. Erm Jan, I haven’t been watching Naruto for a while now, so be prepared to be bombarded with One Piece posts this time. I texted Lyle and asked where they’re at. He said they’re already in Angeles with the Clin Chem Bloggers. He also said “Daghag gwapa bay!” I leave that to you my dear non-Visayan friends to decipher. The good doctor also said that he has already memorized every female bloggers’ name for my sake. I was really touched(I’m not saying where). When it comes to women, the doc is one reliable dude.
In all honesty, I was really reluctant to attend the gathering because for one, I’m a terribly shy person (a big fat liar too), and more than that, Bloggista who I can easily rely on to lead me away from the path of righteousness was not coming. Still the call of the road proved impossible to resist. So I packed a change of clothes, clean underwear, some toiletries, and my favorite condominium magazine. What can I say, I love to read. I hastily took a bath(a ritual that I religiously adhere to at least three times a week), put on fresh clothes, some cologne for luck, and hopped on my very reliable Bamboo 2. That’s my car. Bamboo 1, well that’s another story for another day.
The Road Trip
I wouldn’t elaborate on the goings on while driving on the NLEX. Too personal. Let’s just say I got this thing for roads. Ok perhaps a few bullet points:
– The NLEX is a totally different road. You think you’re just moving at around 60kph but take a quick glance and you’ll be surprised to see your speedometer already hitting 140kph
– It would have been really helpful if there are arrows pointing to the radar boys’ exact location. Forewarned is forearmed I say. Everytime I hit 130kph I am already a nervous wreck, imagining such barbaric thoughts as traffic cops apprehending me and asking me to “bend over, boy”
– Upon my stopover at that place right before Mexico, I had to look directly at Mcdo because the comfort rooms seem to beckon to me and say “Do come in, have a seat.” Now that’s a foul conversation.
– I screamed myself hoarse all the way to Metrogate. It’s the eHeads man, they move me.
I Came, I Saw, I Sat (Veni, Vedi, Venchi)
I got directions from one of the Clin Chem Bloggers on how to go to Metrogate. I must say that the guy can give directions with his eyes closed! I never even have to ask for a second opinion. Had I followed the Doc’s advise to get off at Dau exit, for sure I would have been on the road to perdition. Really sometimes I wonder if the Doc hates me. The Metrogate clubhouse is a very nice place. The freshly mown grass brought back a lot of memories, some I’d rather forget. I could almost hear my father shouting at me while I, sobbing like a little girl, almost broke my back mowing our own lawn in Mindanao. Oh well, the smell of newly cut grass gets to me everytime.
I thought Lyle was smoking something when he said what he said to me earlier. I was already confident of my charming one liners, killer lines that I was pretty sure could get a bronze statue of David to pee, but alas one glimpse at the absolutely gorgeous CC girls reduced me to a veritable violet sitting in the corner. Nothing flusters me like the sight of a bunch of prettly little things sitting together in a group. Gah, I thought that everyone would have the same reaction. I mean what powers can a man have when faced with such a formidable group? Not the good doctor though, having seen enough huhus to last him a lifetime, he was as comfortable as a goldfish in an aquarium sitting and talking with the very fair crowd.
Although I was introduced to the lovely ladies, I had to exit as hurriedly and as graciously as possible as I was already sweating bullets. I thought that having lived in the big bad city for a while now, I should at least be comfortable talking to anyone regardless of age, sex or religion. But alas, as they say, you can take the man out of the province, but you can never take the province out of the man. I am resigned to the fact that despite the change in adress, I will, always and forever be a promdi, with all the trappings that it entails.
Meeting Jena Isle
Used to be that I would need a couple of bottles of beer and a shot of my favorite Bacardi Rhum to get me settled in a strange and new environment. But meeting Jena and her calling me sir despite my very questionable appearance immediately put me at ease. I think it’s the Jedi mojo working there. Jena was a most gracious host, seeming to be everywhere at once, always making sure that everyone is masticating on something, I was almost sure that if she saw one with an empty mouth, she wouldn’t hesitate in shoving food down their throat! Biro lang po. 🙂
And there was food everywhere! I almost cried when I saw that there was no porkchop served. My househelp has already served me porkchops to last me til kingdom come and I swore that if I see another slab of porkchop again, I would swallow my own tongue and be done with it.
There was buro however. I was told afterwards that it was a mixture of rice and fermented fish. By then it was too late. Having an affinity for anything resembling meat, I thought it was ground beef, so I casually filled my spoon with the stuff and put it in my mouth. It wasn’t very pleasant. It was like expecting a pat on the head and getting Manny Pacquiao’s left hook instead. Still I managed to maintain my composure, swallowed everything and chased it with an entire tetra-pack of Zest-O. Apparently there’s an art to eating Buro. Oh well, another lesson learned.
The surprises kept coming all afternoon long. The CC bloggers brought out a birthday cake for Jan who celebrated his birthday a couple of days before and for Jena who will be celebrating her birthday in a few weeks. I could swear I saw Jan’s lips tremble a little bit and I think he had to wipe a tear or two. I had to look away for a few seconds else I would be joining him in a sobbing frenzy. It was that bad. lol.
Then Novs arrived with his family. I spent some minutes talking to Novs’ dad to talk about old times. I thought he looked smaller than the last time I saw him, a fact he confirmed. It seemed to me that whatever weight Nov’z father lost didn’t go to waste. Those precious pounds immediately attached themselves to Novz. Hah! Talk about recycling. I looked for a place to hide when Nov’z dad started singing My Way expecting gunshots to suddenly erupt. Good thing everyone was game so my worries were unfounded.
We Owned The Night
There is a reason why the place is called the City of Angels. Where the Doc and Lyle were seeing cars double parked in the small streets, I saw girls, and girls, and more girls! Heck, even the parking attendants at a place called Wishing Wells (??) were really pretty. I waved at them but they were too focused on my front seat passenger. Tch.
We first went to a bar called Kaffe (was it Club?) Bossa or as the Doc called it, Kaffe Bosso. It was a Freudian slip alright but he calls it an occupational hazard anyway. Couldn’t really blame the guy. The Club was topnotch, but it was too loud for my taste. Compound that one with lots of pretty girls coming in with their male companions, and it was a recipe for ‘let’s skedaddle out of here’.
After consuming too many beers than I’m used to handle the group decided to continue the party elsewhere. We ended up at Spencers a really private place where you could sing to your tonsils’ desire and not raise the dead from their graves. The videoke machine was also rigged to always show a high score no matter how you try to murder whatever song you’re singing. So if you’re in Angeles City and you feel a little down, you should try going to Spencers for a few hours of videoke; trust me, it would surely lift your spirits.
With the Doc singing non-stop and Lyle cracking jokes, time seemed to fly real fast, and before we knew it, it was already 3 in the morning. We had to pry the microphone from the Doc who wanted to scream some more and explained to him, very gently, that we had to go, because he still needs to look at some girls’ huhus in the morning. I told Jena that I’m still fit to drive and we will just head back to Manila but she’s having none of it. There’s really no arguing with Jena once she makes up her mind so off we went to a hotel like the really good boys that we are to sleep off the after-effects of alcohol.
The Doc was doing his own version of the Flight of the Bumblebee before his head hit the pillows. Lyle and I had to sneak out of the hotel because the beast in him had to be fed. We went to one of the stalls near the hotel and munched on some chicken breasts. We would have preferred another species’ breasts but we’ll take what we can get. When we went back to the hotel, it was Ode to Joy playing this time. Lyle and I managed a few drunken chats before he did his own impersonation of a really rickety choo-choo train.
We woke up at 10 in the morning to find the doc gone leaving behind a couple of scathing text messages admonishing us for the noise we were making while we slept. Hah, as if I’m one to snore. On our way out of the hotel, I managed to tuck in a nice little breakfast while Lyle watched, the poor guy cannot eat anything as long as the sun is in the horizon.
The Long Drive Home
Driving back, Lyle and I were on a somber mood. We talked about websites, and girls, and love, and girls, some porn, and then back to girls again. We talked about other things that no innocent ear should ever hear (I had to rinse my ears with muriatic acid when I arrived home).
We thanked Jena profusely through text knowing that whatever message we give her couldn’t really convey our feelings of appreciation for the really wonderful time we had in the city of angels.
I would end this horribly long post with something profound but I fear that I have already revealed too much of my real character here, a character that’s completely unbecoming of an Influenza Blogger. So I’ll end up with this very simple statement: YOU SHOULD HAVE BEEN THERE BITCHES!!
DISCLAIMER: This post is rife with exaggerations and lies. The author is prone to hyperbole and is taking medications to counter it. If you’re offended with some of what’s written here, I assure you that it’s either a fabrication or a blatant lie, please don’t take it seriously. However, if some of the statements here pleased you no end, I swear to you I was really sincere about it and it’s the honest-to-goodness truth.