A.S. STEPS
Home: 87 Gentle Street
(Note: "A.S." refers to the U.P. College of Arts and Sciences in Diliman, which used to be housed in Palma Hall alone until it was split into three different colleges, the College of Science, The College of Fine Arts, and the College of Social Sciences and Philosophy, which Palma Hall came to be known as.)
You all know her.
The Girl We Love To Hate. Not because she's skinny and gorgeous and her Daddy's rich, but because she was everything we ever hated when we were in school: sinungaling, chismosa, intriguera, sumbungera (later known as chu-chu) and iyakin.
To those of you who don't understand Tagalog, those words roughly meant "liar", "malicious gossip", "tattletale" and "crybaby". Not a charming combination any way you look at it.
I have had the misfortune of knowing a few of these girls. I'm even related to some of them by affinity. Believe me, they don't get better with age.
These girls are always crying for attention. And if you don't give it to them, they try tugging at your heartstrings by feigning illness. I once had a neighbor who mysteriously turned epileptic overnight. What was more mysterious about it was the fact that she would only get her "seizures" when the neighborhood girls were around. We were all alarmed at first, but it didn't take long for the savvier ones to see through the act.
One day, she decided to put on a show again, pretending to have convulsions. All of us who were around were used to the display by now, and no one batted an eyelash. She decided to up the ante and began to cry and drool at the same time. It was really getting to be quite annoying, but we just rolled our eyes behind her back and continued to ignore her.
Finally, she couldn't stand it much longer. She jerked and shuddered her way to one of our friends, gasping a tearful request: "Ging, sampalin mo ako!"
My friend gladly obliged. More than once.
I don't know if hypochondria is a feature of this personality disorder, better known as "KSP", or "Kulang Sa Pansin", but it certainly fits the profile.
I once had a classmate in High School who claimed she had rheumatic heart disease. She mysteriously forgot about her serious malady whenever it was time to play volleyball, but since this was the same person who boasted she had a swimming pool inside her house, nobody really took her seriously.
I didn't let her bother me, even when she stole my former best friend away from me. I honestly wondered what my friend, who was pretty and popular, saw in her, but I just rationalized it as taking a less fortunate soul under one's wing. much like Jane Austen's "Emma", or her modern version, Alicia Silverstone's Cher in "Clueless".
But when this same person had the effrontery to suggest to my friends that my boyfriend at the time was courting her, it was the final insult. I never spoke to her again.
Fast forward two years. I was now a college freshman at U.P. Diliman, with new friends and a brand new boyfriend who happened to be picking me up after my last class for the week. As I waited for him patiently at the A.S. Steps, I felt a tap on my shoulder and turned to find my former best friend, whom I will refer to as "Emma". I was delighted to see her. The roots of our close friendship hailed back to elementary school, and I honestly missed her company.
After a few minutes of catching up, I invited her to sit down with me, telling her I'd introduce her to my cute LaSallista boyfriend when he came. To my dismay, she declined, telling me "Miss Smith" was waiting for her, motioning to a now-familiar figure, sitting a few steps in front of me.
Oh well. It wasn't long before my boyfriend drove up anyway. I can still remember my heart quickening when I saw the familiar Toyota Starlet parking in front of us. He climbed out of the driver's seat, scanning the steps, wearing the Goggle T-shirt I had just given him for our monthly anniversary. When he saw me, a smile lit up his face and he ran up the steps to meet me, greeting me with a huge kiss before leading me back to the car.
I fairly floated down those steps, catching a glimpse of the faces of my friend and Miss Rheumatic Heart, their looks of surprise barely registering in the kilig-induced haze before my knight drove me away into the sunset.
After the weekend, I saw my friend again and she had this story to tell:
Apparently, she and Miss RH were talking on the steps when they noticed this cute Toyota Starlet pull up with an even cuter mestizo driving it. Miss RH nudged her when he alighted, muttering "uy, cute" under her breath. They kept their eyes on him as he walked past, following his progress as he climbed the A.S. Steps, all the way up to...
me!
Miss RH quickly turned away as he planted his lips on mine. But I knew she saw it, and that was enough for me. I had my pound of flesh.
I'd like to see her allege this boyfriend was secretly courting her too!
Ahhh...revenge is sweet.
(PLUGGING: "Baby Steps", the latest in "The Prada Mama Chronicles".)
Wednesday, August 24, 2005
Saturday, August 13, 2005
WHISTLE STOP
A Birthday Story
Home: Marbella 2, MALATE
It was going to be a surprise.
For the past few days, I had been calling our friends, all of whom were in cahoots with me, enlisting their help so I could pull it off without a hitch. I was also in touch with Whistle Stop, choosing our favorite items from their faxed menu and finalizing arrangements for Lorenzo's surprise 29th birthday party.
Venue was at the Thai Room, the glassed-off function room off the entryway at the Whistle Stop in Makati. Whistle Stop was a favorite haunt of ours after hours. I would only order one thing from the menu, their Chicken in Hot Pepper Sauce. Lorenzo, on the other hand, was more adventurous with his main courses, but he was a staunch loyalist when it came to dessert. It had to be halu-halo. Nothing else would do.
The concept was that of salubong, literally welcoming his birthday as it arrived. This meant that I had to assemble our nearest and dearest at an unforsaken hour so they could wait for us to arrive, just before midnight, and spring their surprise at my unsuspecting boyfriend. Good thing most of our friends were also night-owls like us.
On the day of the event, I rushed to Kink Cakes after my six o'clock newscast to pick up the bodybuilder cake I ordered specially for the occasion. Then we headed to Makati so I could check on the venue. Dal Lagdameo-Pedero, wife of my former boss, Mike Pedero, was already there, stringing balloons all over the Thai Room. Another friend, Hazel Serrano, would take care of the decor and the party hats, so that was two less things to worry about.
I also brought the souvenirs we finished earlier, tiny cork-stoppered glass vials filled with multi-colored tic-tacs, covered in tulle, and tied in place with satin ribbons. We were working furtively on those that morning, telling Lorenzo it was for someone's wedding, when he offered to help. I quickly told him we were done, hiding the bottles, sporting LARGE Robee stickers announcing his nickname, "Jojo", from view.
After arranging the souvenirs on the tables and entrusting my cake to the staff, I went over the final details before rushing back home, trying to slow down my heart rate so my appearance would take on a semblance of normalcy by the time I arrived. Lorenzo was waiting for me, wondering why I took so long. I muttered something about traffic and hoped my acting was convincing enough to fool him.
All throughout dinner I was racking my brain, trying to figure out how to get him out of the house at 11:30 PM on a week night. I had my job cut out for me. He seemed to be perfectly happy to just stay at home, ready to turn in after dinner, expecting me to follow suit. When he started giving me a foot massage, I had to resort to desperate measures, literally jumping out of the bed and asking him if he wanted to go out.
It took some convincing on my part, but he finally agreed, albeit reluctantly. We dressed up in similar outfits while I purportedly sent Belen, our alalay home. In truth, she was the advance party being ferried to Whistle Stop in great haste, warning the guests of our impending arrival.
When we went down the elevator to meet our driver, I nonchalantly asked him where he wanted to go. Ironically, his answer was "Whistle Stop". Of course by then, there weren't too many places that were open anymore, but I was nevertheless relieved that I didn't have to work too hard on that one!
When we got to Whistle Stop, I saw that the lights at the Thai Room were off. So far so good.
We ventured into the restaurant, where I noticed my friend, Sonny Antonio, drinking coffee in one of the tables. Sonny was one of the people I had invited to Lorenzo's party. I started questioning myself if I remembered to tell him it was a surprise.
I headed for the nearest table, hoping Lorenzo wouldn't see Sonny. No such luck. As soon as we were seated, he said, "Isn't that..." and before he could even finish, Sonny saw us and headed for our table. I motioned a warning with my eyes, hoping he wouldn't blow our cover. Sonny, the old pro, didn't.
Next I pretended to cough from all the cigarette smoke, calling a waiter and asking him if he could transfer us to the empty room by the entrance. He was my contact waiter, whom I had already met earlier, so of course he said yes. He led us to the dark, seemingly empty room and paused before opening the door for us...
"Surprise!", yelled all our friends.
The look on Lorenzo's face was priceless. At first, he was startled, taking a half-step back. But when he recognized all of the people there, the realization finally hit him and all he could say was "Oh, Baby...", flashing me the biggest smile ever before he was mobbed by everyone in the room.
After his cheeks were showered with birthday kisses by the women and his hands were squeezed in birthday handshakes by the men, we all sang "Happy Birthday". Then it was time for a speech from the celebrant, who hadn't quite gotten over his surprise yet.
I was touched at the large number of friends I was able to assemble on such short notice. There were over thirty people in the room with us, including his showbiz friends, Nino and Allan Muhlach and Michael Vera-Perez. They even brought Richard Merck with them. Scattered amongst the other tables were Lorenzo's bodybuilding buddies, his modeling contacts, and our other personal friends including Marcy Malonzo, whom I assigned the task of making his birthday board. She did a wonderful job.
I will always be grateful to those people who made it there late that night, many of whom had regular jobs to report to the following morning. Even after the yummy buffet was decimated, they still lingered on, taking pictures and socializing among themselves. It was a lovely evening, and nobody was ready to break the spell just yet.
And then the girls saw Joey Generoso of Side A eating at a table, and they flocked to his side, one by one, chatting him up and asking for autographs. This was the cue for the guys in the party to look slightly revolted and say their goodbyes. By the time our girls left poor Joey alone to his food again, he had heard about the surprise party so many times, he actually greeted Lorenzo "Happy Birthday" when he came to round up the giggling groupies.
After that, it was a matter of paying the bill and making transportation arrangements for everyone in the party. And then we headed home, comforted in the knowledge that we had the best friends in the whole world, still basking in the warm embers of their friendship.
This is dedicated to my husband, Lorenzo, who is turning 36 today. We may be thousands of miles away from Whistle Stop, or the Tivoli Grill and Ratsky (where we celebrated the next day), but, seven years down the road, we aren't thousands of miles away from each other, as people have predicted. And that's the important thing.
Happy Birthday, my love. Here's to many more for us to celebrate, together.
(PLUGGING: "Super Kulit", the latest in The Prada Mama Chronicles.)
A Birthday Story
Home: Marbella 2, MALATE
It was going to be a surprise.
For the past few days, I had been calling our friends, all of whom were in cahoots with me, enlisting their help so I could pull it off without a hitch. I was also in touch with Whistle Stop, choosing our favorite items from their faxed menu and finalizing arrangements for Lorenzo's surprise 29th birthday party.
Venue was at the Thai Room, the glassed-off function room off the entryway at the Whistle Stop in Makati. Whistle Stop was a favorite haunt of ours after hours. I would only order one thing from the menu, their Chicken in Hot Pepper Sauce. Lorenzo, on the other hand, was more adventurous with his main courses, but he was a staunch loyalist when it came to dessert. It had to be halu-halo. Nothing else would do.
The concept was that of salubong, literally welcoming his birthday as it arrived. This meant that I had to assemble our nearest and dearest at an unforsaken hour so they could wait for us to arrive, just before midnight, and spring their surprise at my unsuspecting boyfriend. Good thing most of our friends were also night-owls like us.
On the day of the event, I rushed to Kink Cakes after my six o'clock newscast to pick up the bodybuilder cake I ordered specially for the occasion. Then we headed to Makati so I could check on the venue. Dal Lagdameo-Pedero, wife of my former boss, Mike Pedero, was already there, stringing balloons all over the Thai Room. Another friend, Hazel Serrano, would take care of the decor and the party hats, so that was two less things to worry about.
I also brought the souvenirs we finished earlier, tiny cork-stoppered glass vials filled with multi-colored tic-tacs, covered in tulle, and tied in place with satin ribbons. We were working furtively on those that morning, telling Lorenzo it was for someone's wedding, when he offered to help. I quickly told him we were done, hiding the bottles, sporting LARGE Robee stickers announcing his nickname, "Jojo", from view.
After arranging the souvenirs on the tables and entrusting my cake to the staff, I went over the final details before rushing back home, trying to slow down my heart rate so my appearance would take on a semblance of normalcy by the time I arrived. Lorenzo was waiting for me, wondering why I took so long. I muttered something about traffic and hoped my acting was convincing enough to fool him.
All throughout dinner I was racking my brain, trying to figure out how to get him out of the house at 11:30 PM on a week night. I had my job cut out for me. He seemed to be perfectly happy to just stay at home, ready to turn in after dinner, expecting me to follow suit. When he started giving me a foot massage, I had to resort to desperate measures, literally jumping out of the bed and asking him if he wanted to go out.
It took some convincing on my part, but he finally agreed, albeit reluctantly. We dressed up in similar outfits while I purportedly sent Belen, our alalay home. In truth, she was the advance party being ferried to Whistle Stop in great haste, warning the guests of our impending arrival.
When we went down the elevator to meet our driver, I nonchalantly asked him where he wanted to go. Ironically, his answer was "Whistle Stop". Of course by then, there weren't too many places that were open anymore, but I was nevertheless relieved that I didn't have to work too hard on that one!
When we got to Whistle Stop, I saw that the lights at the Thai Room were off. So far so good.
We ventured into the restaurant, where I noticed my friend, Sonny Antonio, drinking coffee in one of the tables. Sonny was one of the people I had invited to Lorenzo's party. I started questioning myself if I remembered to tell him it was a surprise.
I headed for the nearest table, hoping Lorenzo wouldn't see Sonny. No such luck. As soon as we were seated, he said, "Isn't that..." and before he could even finish, Sonny saw us and headed for our table. I motioned a warning with my eyes, hoping he wouldn't blow our cover. Sonny, the old pro, didn't.
Next I pretended to cough from all the cigarette smoke, calling a waiter and asking him if he could transfer us to the empty room by the entrance. He was my contact waiter, whom I had already met earlier, so of course he said yes. He led us to the dark, seemingly empty room and paused before opening the door for us...
"Surprise!", yelled all our friends.
The look on Lorenzo's face was priceless. At first, he was startled, taking a half-step back. But when he recognized all of the people there, the realization finally hit him and all he could say was "Oh, Baby...", flashing me the biggest smile ever before he was mobbed by everyone in the room.
After his cheeks were showered with birthday kisses by the women and his hands were squeezed in birthday handshakes by the men, we all sang "Happy Birthday". Then it was time for a speech from the celebrant, who hadn't quite gotten over his surprise yet.
I was touched at the large number of friends I was able to assemble on such short notice. There were over thirty people in the room with us, including his showbiz friends, Nino and Allan Muhlach and Michael Vera-Perez. They even brought Richard Merck with them. Scattered amongst the other tables were Lorenzo's bodybuilding buddies, his modeling contacts, and our other personal friends including Marcy Malonzo, whom I assigned the task of making his birthday board. She did a wonderful job.
I will always be grateful to those people who made it there late that night, many of whom had regular jobs to report to the following morning. Even after the yummy buffet was decimated, they still lingered on, taking pictures and socializing among themselves. It was a lovely evening, and nobody was ready to break the spell just yet.
And then the girls saw Joey Generoso of Side A eating at a table, and they flocked to his side, one by one, chatting him up and asking for autographs. This was the cue for the guys in the party to look slightly revolted and say their goodbyes. By the time our girls left poor Joey alone to his food again, he had heard about the surprise party so many times, he actually greeted Lorenzo "Happy Birthday" when he came to round up the giggling groupies.
After that, it was a matter of paying the bill and making transportation arrangements for everyone in the party. And then we headed home, comforted in the knowledge that we had the best friends in the whole world, still basking in the warm embers of their friendship.
This is dedicated to my husband, Lorenzo, who is turning 36 today. We may be thousands of miles away from Whistle Stop, or the Tivoli Grill and Ratsky (where we celebrated the next day), but, seven years down the road, we aren't thousands of miles away from each other, as people have predicted. And that's the important thing.
Happy Birthday, my love. Here's to many more for us to celebrate, together.
(PLUGGING: "Super Kulit", the latest in The Prada Mama Chronicles.)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)