The Construct

Found this being forwarded as spam. But reading it, it’s not really spam-ish at all.

Akala ng mga tao na nasa Pilipinas kapag nasa America ka akala nila madami ka ng pera. Ang totoo, madami kang utang, dahil credit card lahat ang gamit mo sa pagbili mo ng mga gamit mo. Kailangan mo gumamit ng credit card para magka-credit history ka, kase pag hindi ka umutang o wala kang utang, hindi ka pagkakatiwalaan ng mga kano . Pag wala kang credit card, ibig sabihin wala kang kapasidad magbayad.

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Back in my earlier years in college, I had this white guy for a professor in my freshman English class. One thing he shared with us is his puzzlement on the Filipino’s need for all sorts of beauty products ranging from whitening creams and nose jobs (Yeah, like white people don’t undergo nose jobs, just look at these rhinoplasty pictures).

Anyway, it’s the tisoy complex to which everyone seems to adhere. Can’t blame our society. Over four centuries of colonial rule under white people does that to you. Hence we have them all – skin whitening, nose jobs, Cherifer…

I’ve nothing against these procedures though. I think one has the right to do what they want with their bodies and if they’re pango and unproud, they could get their noses done as long as they don’t have to steal for it. If that’s a way to help them feel more comfortable and confident so be it. I just think that that people who consider pango and sarat as ugly very colonial. That’s the physical make up of Austronesians. What are we to do?

Anyway, I don’t want to write much on the aesthetics on colonialism. Just thought I’d squeeze in the topic of nose jobs. Now I wonder if Pacquiao undergoes rhinoplasty everytime.

“You’re beautiful and my favorite artist just so happened to be Picasso.”

And I remember wanting to do a short film entitled “Elmo Must Die” featuring that weird Tickle-Me-Elmo doll. Anyway, here’s a clip on them emo:

Aaah. Sweet October nearly gone. Oktoberfest dusk is nigh. The kegs of San Miguel downed and boxes of paracetamol and ibuprofen chewed the mornings-after. And perhaps the occasional shrieks of horror from waking up in some other person’s bedroom. Or some toilet cubicle.

I never get to enjoy Oktoberfests. For one, I never was a big fan of beer or liquor in general. While friends were chugging fermented malt and hops and gin blossoms, and whatnot down their throats, I was the one sipping iced tea. I always have volunteered to be the designated driver mainly because I knew I’d rather have tea in my bladder than some 90 proof vodka eat my liver out.

Well, not to be hypocritical I got drunk twice or so but at least I only got to be piss-headed with friends not in public. I just don’t get the point of throwing up mixes of alcohol and digestive fluids for everyone to see. And hurled puke (pronounced “pyook” not the Tagalog for…) is not a pretty sight.

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