I was itching to update this blog over my rest days but the fat pig that I am, I just spent forty eight hours inside my friends’ apartment, doing a Sex and the City marathon (again!) while munching on tamarind jam sandwiches. I know, it’s kinda eww (the tamarind jam, you bozo!) but I got nothing better to do. It’s was like a hundred degrees outside and no gay, even in his insane mind, would go out there and suffer the heat, not to mention the UV rays. It was nice, watching Carrie and the girls go about their all-too-familiar New York lives for the nth time. And not to mention having a dreamless sleep for like hours. That was the real icing on top of my cake a.k.a. un-eventful rest days. Maybe that’s why they call it “rest day” so that you can rest your fat arse off. I never really did realize that before. Rest days for me then would mean scampering around Ayala during the day while sipping one too many Rhumba frappacinnos, and at night partying my tired body to a drunken stupor in Club Vudu/Pump/Veranda while smoking my lungs to death. God I miss those days! But what can I do? I’m sort of like maturing (yeah, right!) nowadays. Partying just won't agree with me anymore.
By the way, I was flipping through some old Preview magazines (it’s like the equivalent of Vogue here in the Philippines) and I just realized, yet again, how I need to break away from this job. Why can’t I just be happy and contented like everyone else? I always knew from the bottom of my faggoted fat heart that I was meant to work in the fashion industry. Hell, I’d give an arm and a leg to work as an assistant to the secretary of the personal assistant of the personal secretary of Muicca Prada. Or maybe Inno Sotto? Haaay! I guess I’ll just have to give up on that dream for now. Being here in Cebu has been the greatest thing that ever happened to my short, uneventful life so far. Manila can wait. And, I know, so can New York.
In the meantime, let me just ask you how many white tee shirts should one vain gay (like me) have? I just got my laundry yesterday and I went through the laundry list. I could not help but gasp (hahaha! Yeah gasp, as in comic book-like GASP) when I found out that I have such an enormous number of white stuff. Going through my closet, here’s what I have:
· 56 plain white tee shirts
· 4 pairs of white pants
· 6 white button down shirts
· 2 pairs of white shorts
· 3 white wife beaters
Imagine, fifty six white tee shirts. Hell! I never realized I had that many white tees. No wonder my laundry bill’s kinda enormous, maybe that’s for all the hand washing and the bleach (I actually have this very stringent rule about washing white clothes: it should be hand washed). Thinking about it, I don’t regret having too many white clothes. White is good. It’s fresh and it’s always safe. Not that I do not enjoy being a non-conformist to fashion rules. And besides, white is the color of the season.
I know. This just shows how bored I am. Counting white clothes on a very nice Wednesday night is not my idea of fun. But what can I do? I’m a loser these days with my killer schedule. It just destroys my day whenever I think about my schedule. My schedule! Which, I just found out, will be my schedule for the rest of May. I guess I should kiss this summer goodbye. I won’t be having a summer escapade, after all. And if you are a call girl, or a call boy, with the best schedule and the best rest days, please go out and tan yourself for me. Just tell me if you need some sunblock or some suntan. I have lots stocked up at home.
Bantayan Island, Summer of 2005 (courtesy of Joy)
*Sigh* Goodbye, Summer of 2006! You can start laughing at me now. Thank you.
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