ramblings, random musings, fascinations, rants, raves and revelations

When we talk about Lea Salonga, Manny Pacquaio, Banig Roberto, Nichole of PSD, Apple [?] of Black Eyed Peas, Charice Pempengco, Sam Concepcion and the likes, we can’t help but feel proud.

The other day, Nathan and I talked about working overseas. The hassles and difficulties, the discriminations and how we should consider waiting for better paying jobs since we have waited long already. We talked about Roan who’s in Qatar now.

I don’t have the figures to prove my point. I have no doubt though that many of my countrymen will agree that we Filipinos are notorious for being extremely proud of our racial heritage. I don’t know but it comes out naturally. The mere suggestion of an insult directed to anything Filipino would be enough to raise an uproar of such cataclysmic proportions that the poor hapless critic can soon expect to equate his life with standing naked under a hail storm. Don’t you dare!

This is why I now wonder what fellow Filipinos think of the country’s description in Uncyclopedia. For those who have no idea what the site is about, just imagine Wikipedia on a perpetual drinking spree with psychotropic drugs on the side. The result is an acidic, witty and impertinent view of everything under the sun and beyond it. You might even find it humorous if you’re not in it.

Filipinos [or Pinoys, as they prefer to call themselves] have a pair of eyes, ears and nostrils, two arms and legs much like humans. They pout and use their lips instead of their fingers to point to things, and they can understand each other using various body languages and gestures without uttering a word. At home, a Filipino family’s hospitality is renowned worldwide. They will more than happily accept over $500 worth of food and groceries, but will be extremely insulted if you offer to make even one grilled cheese sandwich.

To get a Filipino’s attention, just say “Hoy!”, or “Psstttt!”, or “Pssst uyy!!!”. If this approach fails, yell “DOG!” and they will turn around, fangs bared and eyes bulging, saying “WHERE?!”

They have an appendage called a celfone which they use to communicate with their herd. This body part, if taken away from a Filipino, will result in paranoia. This makes it easier for biologists to identify the Filipinos in the wild, since they have their individual IMEI numbers which the scientists can track. Filipinos immediately respond to celfone messages rather than any emergency and calls you can imagine. Whitening cream and transexualism is very popular with Filipinos. Over half of the GDP comes from these two interests.

Rules on Being a Filipino
Be shameful of your heritage and language, be a clone of an American.
Any Caucasian or American is God [even if they rape your daughter].
Carry a Nokia Cellphone, and use TXT msgs [never call it SMS or you will be PWNED!!! LOLZ]
Avoid trailer parks.
Beware of “evil demons”.
Beware of dwarves.
Act black.
Elect actors and actresses into public office then clap your hands.
Believe in superstitious bullshit.
If you’re a balikbayan from the states, never ever speak Tagalog.
Always climb a volcano.
When a typhoon hits, STAY OUTSIDE AND PLAY!!!
Complain to foreigners that the Philippines is the poorest country in the world and then spend all day shopping at fancy malls, drinking Starbucks coffee, and riding taxis.
Ditch utensils!!! Eat with your hands, dammit!
Buy a painting of The Last Supper and hang it on your dining room wall, even if you’re not Christian.

Where to find Filipinos
Love hotels
Under mountain hats
In volcanoes
For males: in a white girls ass
For females: the hospital
In villages with small houses
In the ghetto fo sho
Under rocks, trees, volcanos, mountains, of about
In church
In a grave
Under a Jesus statue
Anything to do with water buffalos
Basketball games (you know the ones that aren’t black)
Black neighborhoods
Lucky Plaza Singapore
In the States, pretty much where the black people are in order to niggerize themselves and become gangstas and get some shiny-ass blingz. They later begin calling themselves “pi-ggers” for pilipino-niggers.

As expected a number of online Filipinos who do not appreciate satire have decided to miss the point altogether and react on the Philippine article. I am not qualified to have any kind of reaction because my own acidic tastes will not permit objectivity and will equally suggest impudence. It would be interesting to know though what other Filipinos within my circle think of the site and our article.

All right, maybe it does hurt my sense of national pride a bit but only because the article holds some grains of truth. Isn’t it partly true that a boxer is becoming more celebrated than the national hero, that more people are singing Boom Tarat-Tarat than the national anthem and that we are under the rule of a half Ewok?

Read and think about it.

0 Comment

Just yesterday as I was forcing myself to sleep again, I received a text from JC - “Ano na?” which I replied - “huh?”. He then texted me again as I gave immediate responses… - “Saan ka?”, “Home”, “Gawa mo?”, “Watching TV, ikaw ba?”, “Dito kina Ki**, lunch ka na?”, “Di pa”, “Tara sa Rob pioneer”… and so on, and so so..

To cut the already long story short, We met and made our way to the mall. There we had coffee at Starbucks and met our friend Jay and Ralf. Kiko also met us for a taste of buko and “pinatubo” - as JC calls that empanada-looking-yummy-food we had. I missed our then religious meetings and Starbucks tambays. We both love coffee and shares the same fondness for everything “Starbucks”.

I love Starbucks and I’m not ashamed to admit it. I love the pleasing aromatic smell when I walk into the place. I love the cups, and mugs, and French presses, and wildly expensive coffee makers and coffee gadgets they sell. I love the fast and friendly service provided by the green-aproned baristas.

I used to have satisfying weekday evening routine that involves Starbucks. At approximately 7:20pm, Monday through Friday, I visit the Starbucks conveniently located mere minutes from my office to pick up my Americano. My order is always the same. Venti Coffee [dark roast]. Most evenings, I can get in and out of there in less than 5 minutes, despite the evening rush. That might have something to do with the fact that I don’t have to speak while in Starbucks [other than to say "Thank you" when I'm handed my coffee]. That’s because they know me. And they know my drink. In fact, when they were running the “2008 Starbucks Planner”, JC and I had 3 for each.

The mark of a good and experienced barista is knowing your regular customers, and let me tell you, the baristas at my Starbucks rock. Most of them know me. Not my name, but my face. And more importantly, my drink order. I approach the counter, and many times my Americano Coffee it already sitting there waiting for me, because one of the baristas spotted me coming in and knew what I would order. Other times the barista waiting on me says “Venti Americano for Michael.” Not a question, but a statement. I nod my head or say “yes, please.” I grab my drink, and I’m on my way.

The system is not always flawless though. One particular barista has asked me twice in the last month “Grande Half-Caff?” [A half regular, half decaf coffee for those of you not fluent in Starbuckian]. I must look like the “Grande Half-Caff” guy. When I say “Nope. Venti Americano” she looked embarrassed. But she’s new. Give it time.

And once, about a month ago I went to Starbucks late on a Saturday morning. Not a day I normally go, and not the time I normally go either. Would they still know me? Was the recognition by the baristas more of a situational thing? Did they only know me because I was there like clockwork every day during the week? But most importantly, how would the baristas react when they learned I wasn’t getting my normal Americano Coffee? I figured chaos would ensue.

You see, it was a hot and humid morning. It was around 11am, and it was already pushing 90 degrees. I didn’t want an Americano Coffee. It was too warm out. I wanted a cold drink. So I approached the counter. “Americano Coffee” stated the barista with a smile, and turned around to grab my drink. “Nope. Something different this morning, ” I said. “I’ll take a Grande Non-fat, Sugar-free Iced Vanilla Latte.” She looked at me as if I had sprouted horns and a tail.

There’s just something about visiting a place where “everybody knows your name” [or rather, your drink]. I see many of the same customers in Starbucks each and every evening. I’m always greeted with a smile, and all the baristas seem to be in perpetually good moods, which I find surprising since it’s so late in the evening. Oh, and the coffee tastes really good too.

0 Comment