Kitty Litter
Thursday, August 24, 2006
Oops, I Did It. Again.
I am so sorry for forgetting to leave a post telling people where I am. Anyway Kitty Litter returns in the last week of August. The high irony of my US trip is that there are so many photo opportunities and here I am, the nincompoop without a camera. Sigh.
So please check back next week! :)
So please check back next week! :)
Tuesday, August 01, 2006
Eksenang Pang-Inis
With apologies to Pol Medina.
Last Sunday I was coerced into going to Baclaran to hunt for a Filipiniana outfit for the bridal fair I'm supposed to attend in San Francisco. (Whoopee; I don't have a visa yet and the flight's booked for August 8, 7 days from now. I have no idea how this will play out.)
People sneer at Divisoria because it's supposed to be the armpit of Metro Manila. Oh really? If so then Baclaran is the anus of Metro Manila. People are rude, everything is filthy, and even the McDonald's there is dirtier than the MMDA public toilets, I swear.
It was raining, and thanks to a miscommunication helped along by Stupid, er, Smart's stupid service, Wynn and I were lost. We were supposed to meet my mom at the church, and we slogged our way through the traffic and the pushy pedestrians, vendors, animals, and what have you.
In front of the Baclaran church is a small sidewalk with a steel awning. 90% of it was taken up by vendors, and so to get to the church, you had a choice of walking on the street, where a delightful array of flood water, urine, reckless pedicab drivers and feckless jeepney drivers awaited you...or you could try to balance yourself on the 10% of the sidewalk the vendors had left for pedestrian traffic. Wynn and I chose the latter.
It wasn't easy weaving our way through people going in all directions and trying not to get wet, but we managed. We walked single file (because we both detest morons who walk on crowded streets two, three, one million abreast), with Wynn taking point.
Halfway to the church a short, fat man shoved me almost to the pavement then stepped on my shoes--hard--for good measure. I cried out, and angrily remonstrated. Despite the fact that he was a good, what, ten inches shorter than me, he whirled around and yelled at me threateningly. I readied myself for combat, drawing my umbrella in and preparing to jab. I estimated that I was at least fifty pounds heavier, and though I wasn't wearing my preferred weapon of choice (high heels), I was ready to make do with my cat claws, er, nails. People drew back in alarm upon seeing my expression.
Not that it fazed the asshole. "Ano, papalag ka? Ang bagal mo kumilos, nakita mo na wala akong payong ano?" he shouted.
Wynn turned around to ascertain that I was all right. He saw the short fat bastard accosting me, and that's when Wynn grabbed his shoulder, spun him around, then shoved him in the chest. Wynn, incidentally, is four inches taller than me, and with his (messy) long hair unfurled, he is a rather intimidating sight. "What's your problem?" he yelled at the moron. "Ano, ha?" And trust me when I say his volume was infinitely louder.
The moron suddenly went limp, and nearly crawled on the pavement to apologize...to Wynn. He profusely said "Sorry, sorry talaga pare, sorry"...to Wynn.
Not to me.
He couldn't flee fast enough.
Later, Wynn sadly turned to me and remarked, "So if I hadn't been there he'd have made it your fault?"
I thought for a while, then said, "It's because I'm female. Even though he's wrong, he thinks that the tiny things swinging between his legs makes what he does right."
Wynn asked, "Do you want to leave this country?"
I said, "It's more like this country is throwing me out."
Last Sunday I was coerced into going to Baclaran to hunt for a Filipiniana outfit for the bridal fair I'm supposed to attend in San Francisco. (Whoopee; I don't have a visa yet and the flight's booked for August 8, 7 days from now. I have no idea how this will play out.)
People sneer at Divisoria because it's supposed to be the armpit of Metro Manila. Oh really? If so then Baclaran is the anus of Metro Manila. People are rude, everything is filthy, and even the McDonald's there is dirtier than the MMDA public toilets, I swear.
It was raining, and thanks to a miscommunication helped along by Stupid, er, Smart's stupid service, Wynn and I were lost. We were supposed to meet my mom at the church, and we slogged our way through the traffic and the pushy pedestrians, vendors, animals, and what have you.
In front of the Baclaran church is a small sidewalk with a steel awning. 90% of it was taken up by vendors, and so to get to the church, you had a choice of walking on the street, where a delightful array of flood water, urine, reckless pedicab drivers and feckless jeepney drivers awaited you...or you could try to balance yourself on the 10% of the sidewalk the vendors had left for pedestrian traffic. Wynn and I chose the latter.
It wasn't easy weaving our way through people going in all directions and trying not to get wet, but we managed. We walked single file (because we both detest morons who walk on crowded streets two, three, one million abreast), with Wynn taking point.
Halfway to the church a short, fat man shoved me almost to the pavement then stepped on my shoes--hard--for good measure. I cried out, and angrily remonstrated. Despite the fact that he was a good, what, ten inches shorter than me, he whirled around and yelled at me threateningly. I readied myself for combat, drawing my umbrella in and preparing to jab. I estimated that I was at least fifty pounds heavier, and though I wasn't wearing my preferred weapon of choice (high heels), I was ready to make do with my cat claws, er, nails. People drew back in alarm upon seeing my expression.
Not that it fazed the asshole. "Ano, papalag ka? Ang bagal mo kumilos, nakita mo na wala akong payong ano?" he shouted.
Wynn turned around to ascertain that I was all right. He saw the short fat bastard accosting me, and that's when Wynn grabbed his shoulder, spun him around, then shoved him in the chest. Wynn, incidentally, is four inches taller than me, and with his (messy) long hair unfurled, he is a rather intimidating sight. "What's your problem?" he yelled at the moron. "Ano, ha?" And trust me when I say his volume was infinitely louder.
The moron suddenly went limp, and nearly crawled on the pavement to apologize...to Wynn. He profusely said "Sorry, sorry talaga pare, sorry"...to Wynn.
Not to me.
He couldn't flee fast enough.
Later, Wynn sadly turned to me and remarked, "So if I hadn't been there he'd have made it your fault?"
I thought for a while, then said, "It's because I'm female. Even though he's wrong, he thinks that the tiny things swinging between his legs makes what he does right."
Wynn asked, "Do you want to leave this country?"
I said, "It's more like this country is throwing me out."
Labels: funny fights, Wynn
