My apologies. I'm just too lazy to write. Got a sore throat here and a little fever. I'm just glad that I don't have a cold or else I would be Miss Irritable. I'll just post call center thingies here.....

Sigh.

I guess eating too much Hershey's Kisses while working is not ideal. Aside from making you look like a candidate for Miss Twerp for adding a bling bling in your love handles, it'll also make you sick.

Sue me. Starbucks in Makati Avenue was close last Saturday night so I bought Kisses instead to give me that much needed boost. After all, it's not easy to work 10 hours a day when all I had was 2 hours of sleep.

I've learned my lesson. It'll be coffee forever and not Hershey's Kisses.

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QAS: Technical term for former CSR's or Call Center Representatives who rate the calls of agents on the floor. One must be adept on product knowledge, updates, installation et al. He must actively listen on each call and stop himself from laughing out loud if the agent is muttering bloopers while talking to his customer. They’re the quality assurance specialists of each call center. They’re the reason why a call center employee like me hits our goals.

I consider myself lucky for hearing the ff: conversations between a csr and a customer. Come to think of it, it won’t hurt you if a QAS friend would invite you to listen and even rate calls.

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CSR: Thank you for calling Dish Network! My name is Bruce. Are you calling to sign up for Dish Network today?

Customer: Yes. Anyway, the installation is free right?

CSR: Yes sir!

Customer: And the equipment will be shipped via UPS?

CSR: Yup yup.

Customer: The equipment will be shipped in 3-5 days?

CSR: Yes sir! Opo. (crossing his fingers!) Our cubicle is just a meter away he he he. ;P

After a few minutes……

CSR: Ok John, I would like to thank you for signing up with Dish Network today and enjoy your satellite experience! Yes thank you sir, salamat, okay!

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Customer: There are trees around my house? Yeah!

CSR: Are the trees taller than your house?

Customer: Okay. Go ahead.

CSR: (after a minute…..) Hello Sir? This may sound silly but I need you to go on top of your roof then lie down and look up to the sky in a 45 degree angle…… If you don’t see any trees or any blockages, you have a clear LOS.

Customer: (laughing really hard!) I wouldn’t fall for that. This is not worth a heart attack dude!

The following was written while we're up in the air inside the helicopter I was riding with that was having a test flight. The good thing about having pilot as friends is that they call you when they know that you're a fan of the wind. and. clouds.

Riding the Bell 212 helicopter yesterday night was a blast. It brought vivid memories when I was on the midst of becoming a soldier and a pilot.

Sigh! That's eons ago. Stop dreaming gurl!

Anyway, here's the story. The slums in the metropolis was my "inspiration".

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His parents had not meant to abuse him nor torture him; they had meant to love him and take care of him, and they did try to do both. But David had come late in their little pack of offspring, at a time when the challenge of child rearing was wearing thin. Mom was 28, Dad was 21. Both of them grew up in a slum area. David proved to be susceptible to mishaps. After all, he was born with inturned feet and learned to crawl with corrective casts up to his ankles. Thanks to the German couple who took pity on him while his mom was begging for food along the boulevard near their home (David was 3 at that time). When the casts were at last removed, he cried in terror because he thought that those heavy plaster boots scraping and bumping along the floor had been a part of him. His best friend.

One day, when he was one, his parents found him under their dirty kitchen with charcoals.... some of which were wet with saliva, in retrospect, they wondered if there had really been a need to rush him to the hospital and have his poor stomach pumped. But like a cloud who parted and have the sun winked to the earth, his parents woke up to the reality that they don't have a single cent to go there. Hell, money was hard to come by. Living under the bridge with thieves and criminals as neighbors didn't help either.

"Uh wait, maybe the hospital people will pity our poor little son." David's mom muttered with a long lost look.

"Stupid! We're you thinking damn woman?! The nearby hospital is for the rich. Remember that you were kicked out there a year ago when you were pregnant with that child!" his Dad thundered.

And so, they didn't bring him to the hospital. David's face, poor child, was gray green afterward. He didn't eat like he used to. His mother was worried but what can she do?

The next summer, when he had learned to walk, his parents had unthinkingly swum off the beach together striving for romantic harmony thanks to the German couple who gave them money. David was with them of course! Since he had just learned how to walk, he toddled after them with which, have resulted him to face death because he was found by an old bearded guy floating on his face. This time, his face was blue and he coughed for hours.

I wasn't kidding when I've said that he was lucky when that German couple spotted him. In that instant, he had found his benefactor for his feet, therapy and schooling. Although he was smelly and wore tattered clothes, he has a cherubic face (weird if you're a squatter and you don't eat in schedule), curly hair and liquid eyes like a puppy. He was sort of cute and of course, he was simply looked pitiful.

Years passed by when David was struggling for school. The sight of the boy holding a schoolbook at a curious angle to the light at the age of 5 made his Dad want to weep impotently. After all, he was their last angel.

And it happened that he was just at the wrong, vulnerable age when his parents went through the separation. Mom was getting older and he can't please his Dad anymore. His brothers were off at clubs gyrating with the fluid music, embarked on manhood, free of family. His sister was big enough to find new arrangements with the cute guys around. Mom was with different men. Exciting.

But David, at thirteen, felt the weight of the household descend on him and made his mother's sense of abandonment his own. Bad grades come from day school but was reprimanded by his teacher.

"Study hard. Learn. It'll be your ticket for good life." and blah blah blah....

So David studied hard. Hard enough for him to enter the state university. There, he took fine arts, broke his arm falling down from frat stairs, or leaping, by another account from a girl's window out of nervousness to his parents when they've walked in to check their daughter's "activity". He learned how to drive. Thanks to his rich college friends who doesn't care about his background. Driving had him contused knees and loosened front teeth. The teeth grew firm again; thank gahd, for his innocent smile, slowly spreading across his face as the full humor of his newest misadventure dawned, was one of his best features. His teeth were small and round and widely spaced.... baby teeth. His friends loved him.

Then he married, which seemed yet another mishap, to go with the late nights, abandoned jobs, and fallen opportunities of his life as a young adult. The girl, Karen, was as accident prone as he, given to substance abuse and unwanted pregnancies. Her emotional disturbances left her and others bruised. By comparison, David was solid and surefooted. He was intelligent albeit disturbed with his life. Karen looked up to him. This was the key. He held on to his job, as a struggling artist, and she held on to her pregnancies. You should see him now, with their two children, a fair little girl and a cherubic face, curly haired boy like him when he was young.... David has grown broad and holds the two of them at once. He smiled. Widely. They are birds in a nest. He's a tree, a sheltering boulder. He's protector of the weak...............

I was sleeping blissfully when my guy friend who was driving woke me up and decided to hit the mall.

Opening one eye and muttering, "You must be kidding dude!", I went back to sleep. "What late? Wake up; it's only 6:00 p.m.!" he replied. I made a mental note that after that activity, I will strangle him.

Damn. I still wanted to curl up like a ball with the aircon buzzing because I was so tired and there he was, insisting to shop. Prior to that, we were traveling for hours with friends from the North, swam and wondered about the curves of our bodies, drank tequila and admitted if we’re virgins or not, shared life’s gifts and blahs.

Those almost 4 minutes of getting rid of sleep out from my eyes, I’ve painted my guy friend as a silly pond scum….. identified with frogs and snails and puppy dog tails. (Is that a line from a song? I can’t remember.) He’s like a comrade of one-celled amoebae.

Did I say yes? Yes I did to which he grinned like Dexter from the Cartoon Network.

My friend took me to Beauty Bar. He shopped for soaps, moisturizers, shampoos et al. He raided each stall happily while I was asking myself if he’s straight or not.

Is he?

I don’t know! I didn’t dare to ask him in the first place. After all, he has a girlfriend. Because he was acting like he’s a child of Christmas, my sleep was gone. Entirely. If he’s not gay then, he might be a “Metrosexual”.

By the way, I got the following definition from UrbanDictionary.Com.

“Metrosexual: (noun) Of or pertaining to a straight, urban male who is eager to embrace and even show off his feminine side, especially when it comes to expensive haircuts, designer suits, and $40 face cream.

The kind of guy who paints his nails, wears flip-flops, owns a lot of shoes, takes an hour to do their hair etc. but is not really gay.”

Think of David Beckham, Orlando Bloom, GQ models et al. Of understanding the latest trend in fashion…. of why is Ralph Lauren perfume famous than Gucci……

Well, kindly digest these peepz. This friend of mine is not only into the ramifications of Philippine politics, religion, and the statistics of 2004 Olympics. He also resurrects his memories about his failed attempts at enticing the opposite sex with his pathetic pick-up lines and most of all, embrace fashion like it’s his best friend.

After raiding the Beauty Bar, I accompanied him to a salon for a haircut. Good thing I had Cosmo magazine to keep me company.

When he was called to set off a miracle to his hair, all it took him was 15 minutes max to have his hair cut, shaved and styled. I noticed that he suddenly became a head turner when he greeted me.

He said that it was his first time to get rid of his old barber friend and that he pondered on two things.

“First, for beautiful and meaningful changes to happen, all it takes sometimes is a small step to make everything happen. I tried to figure out why it's difficult for most men to make a switching decision and try out a hairstylist as opposed to their longtime barbers. It's easy to find out why. At least as far as I'm concerned, most are downright ignorant or just plainly ill-informed. They don't read or even attempt to find out what might be better looking for them and instead just be contented with the haircut they've grown accustomed to since their first barbershop visit in grade school. A number are incorrigibly afraid to take risks thinking that it's not after all a manly thing to be so preoccupied with hair and grooming. Now, what do we get? Men who become downright false testimonies to creation.

Funny, but I likewise started to think and compute about how much I will start to set aside each month for this expense. Considering that I, on the average, visit my barber twice month, I just might have to cut down to some things (like pirated DVD purchases hehehe) in order to afford this. Lest you think it's costing me two arms and a neck, I'd have to say the fee was reasonable. After all, it's not cheap to look good.”

Hmmmm.... I think he got a point in there. And I forgot to add, all ended well. He took me to a nearby resto for a free dinner. That was the price of being his "personal assistant" for a day.

Red wine. Black Chocolate. Jazz Music. Dim Lights. Perfect for a romatic setting right?

Nah.

Had a drinking session with friends and the guy I used to stalk with. The thing is, I've found myself not having a crush on him anymore. That's fast. After 1 week of thinking if I'm in love with him, it's gone. Poof! Just like that. I guess I'm still immature ha?

"What music do you listen to?" That was the question he asked and almost everyone has asked and been asked. Whether it's used as a conversation starter, to find common ground between people or just for the sake of having to talk about, music has proven time and again to be a universal element of life, it being a much talk about subject.

Red wine. Black chocolate. I felt so cool. Maybe if he's still my crush then, I would have start running down the list of music genres that comes to mind. Anyway, I blurted out that I'm into classical, christian, alternative, acid jazz and trance which, I'm afraid he just can't relate to. He's into cheezy oldies, pop and new wave for goodness sake!

But, oh wait, he also added that he's into indies. Indie music? (scratched my head, twisted my eyebrows) I just don't really know that such genre exists.

5 glasses of sipping red wine, still munching black chocolate, it's already 3:30 a.m., he was explaining that indies are unapologetically quixotic and tropical baroque of sinister music form.

Think about an odd girl. A pretty college student. One that is always leaving. Always been sighted barefoot and pale, by various sleepers, at the doorstep of a familiar downtown cinema, the gates of a university building at closing time, departing a smoky club and exiting a convenience store at twilight. She vanishes when she steps to the curb, just as the high beams of an approaching car freezes her.

As he was raving about indie music, I was having goosebumps. I don't think that I'm going to like it. It's so weird. I think that it's a music that makes the funerals and wakes the celebration...... A time to sing and a time to dance as tears run down on your face. Aural creations that crest and break like a wave of grief to wash over both viscera and brain with the force of psychedelia, ambient, shoegazer, darkwave and goth.

I took my last sip of wine. And went to sleep.

So what music do you listen to?