the belated birthday blog

Is it only by accident that I was reading a CandyMag from several months ago that talked about how a blog should be updated? Strange that it felt too much like a cosmic scolding…

 Anyway!

My birthday has come and gone and I haven’t been able to put up my annual birthday wishlist! Gaah! And as much as I wanted to blame it on the ever-reliable ‘busy’ excuse, I can’t because I really wasn’t. I’d have to blame this belated blog on my inate laziness, as I usually do when I’m too lazy to think of a more creative excuse.

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I know I blogged about last year’s birthday but honestly, it was so uneventful I can’t even remember what I did that day. But this year’s birthday will certainly remembered, in more ways than one. And that is a stretch already, since I can’t even remember half the night (Ugh, I wish I could be spared by this telling, but I need it known so I won’t be able to deny that it really happened).

But I’m getting ahead of myself. This birthday is a 3-day extravaganza, which in itself is strange because I didn’t really plan to celebrate it, and it didn’t really feel like it was my birthday anyway.  But people who love me certainly knew how to make me feel special and in that way, I love them more.

Day 1: November 8

Shall we start at midnight? I found myself at the Riverpark Tiangge, looking for shoes and finding bags to drool at. Didn’t buy anything though. There aren’t a lot of choices this year and most of the stalls were closed already (it was past 12). My mom urged us to go home and for some reason, it irritated me. I wanted to get those shoes for my new dress and I totally acted up. And I mean, acted up. Really,  stomping and throwing a horrible tantrum. On top of that, my dad tried to appease me by forcing me to feel guilty by being gracious. Do you realize how annoying that was for somebody who’s starting to really get into the spirit of her tantrum? I was a total diva. I huffed and puffed and wanted to go home, and short of throwing things and destroying the nearby stalls, I stomped to the car and tapped my foot. You’d think I was trying to annoy the shit out of someone taking too long in a CR cubicle.

But as usual, my ire didn’t last. The moment we got into the car and my dad drove by a puto-bumbong stand, all diva-ness is forgotten.  The yummy purple goodness is the sign that Christmas is here. Who can stay angry when it’s Christmas? (Ok, so I’m more Halloween than Christmas but wth.) Attacked the puto-bumbong when we got home, and I took out the laptop to work on the gorram never-ending script til I fell asleep.

Sometime in between my falling asleep and my truly waking up, SJ stood by my bed to bother me and give me a lot of kisses before he went to school.

And in the morning, I woke up to find my mom beside my bed, telling me that she’s to go out and pick up the pancit and cake for my office. (And yes, she was speaking to me while I was sleeping) I took the time to go and get my hair done (which is why it’s now red) and got to watch Wowowee in the process. I was 1 minute late for work though, because I had to wrestle the box of cake and the bilao of pancit into the taxi while wearing a short satin dress. The dress which proved to scream “Hey! It’s my birthday!” (or probably, in other scenarios would say “Hey! I’m going to the prom!”)

So. I got to the office and people of course greeted me. (Last year, our dear admin Skeeter forgot to put up my birthday on the company bulletin board. I told her to make up for it by getting a tarpaulin big enough to cover half of the building. No tarpaulin this year though, but she did put up a birthday announcement on the bulletin board. With the wrong date. Sigh.) Really, I was touched by the response to my birthday. I got gifts! Claire even got me a shirt I knew she bought a while back, which means she had thought of me when she bought it. Short of melting on the spot, I thanked them profusely and made the candydolls.^^

Then, Bes dropped by in the evening and attacked the leftover cake before whisking me off to Love2Laugh, a comedy bar at Metrowalk where the performers reminded me too much of college days. Hmm, I wonder why.

Topped the evening with a cafe mocha at Starbucks and double-teamed the gorram script. It was very productive really, considering we were tipsy on Manhattans and Vodka Ice.

But hell. Alcohol helps you sleep.

Day 2: November 9

It’s strange. I can still taste the liver sisig in my mouth.

Co-worker Lyra and I have been planning on an afterwork inuman ever since the world began and it has never happened. Somehow, people would lose confidence in the idea, especially since most people in the office are of good moral standing *ehem!* and aren’t wont to go out late at night. Finally last Friday, we’ve gathered enough people (4) to at least have a decent inuman in a salute to my birthday.

So, Lyra, Diorel, Jay and I went to Metro Phi bar, also at Metrowalk (Hey, it’s the closest!) for a round of drinks and a plate of Nachos and Sisig. Unfortunately, the sisig was of the liver variety and I don’t eat liver. Shudder. I tried washing it down with Strong Ice but the taste is still in my mouth. Aside from that, it was good way to cap off the evening and my birthday week. Or so I thought.

Day 3: November 10

I absolutely had no plan that day. I was to watch endless TV and work on my script. I was to relax and have the spaghetti my mom said she had to cook for the neighbors because it would be rude not to share something on my birthday. I had texted some friends who lived near to come over if they could. Some had declined (Corine said she was in Alabang) while some hadn’t replied at all.

First thing I saw upon waking up was my dad limping towards my room. You have no idea how weird that looked. He sat down beside my bed and asked if we could go to the spa. Apparently, he was limping because he strained his foot in a swimming accident at the office outing. You definitely have no idea how weird that sounded. My dad. In an outing. Uso pa pala yun sa ganong age range.:D

But we cannot go to the spa because he was running a high fever. I lounged the entire morning, watching National Geographic amid SJ’s suggestions to go play House of the Dead. I had no objections to that, except that it seemed unlikely that we will be allowed out when Dad’s sick. To my surprise, not only was I allowed to waste my money on video games, I was offered a ride home on the condition that I was to be home by 5. So, in the afternoon, I went to the Bluewave Mall with SJ and blew my earnings on arcade games (Managed to cramp my arms playing HotD4 and kicked SJ’s ass on AirHockey. Oh, and we played Skeeball and I kept throwing hazardous balls all over Timezone.) And when I said we had to go home, my sister called and asked me to pick up baguettes and a light bulb. SJ and I trooped over to the supermarket. 

There is something you should know about me. I am a diva in the supermarket. I go in and pretend that I’m rich and that I can buy whatever I wanted. I usually buy things without looking at the price because a) calculating the price will be math and I suck at that so where’s the point of trying; and b) because I like the illusion that a credit card gives. I went into the store, smiled graciously at the guard who opened the door for me, gave an amused smirk at the promo mime at the corner, and almost haughtily asked the attendant if they had a 60watt light bulb. And, after picking up the baguette (and a couple of tubs of ice cream for the planned movie-watching later), we headed to the counter where I found out that my credit card was declined and my ATM was not working.

Part of me was panicking at the thought that I cannot pay for my purchases. But another part, a larger part, was so calm and unperturbed at all. I calmly called my dad to explain the situation and stood waiting by the counter to wait for him (and entertained myself by watching the performing mime nearby). Gosh, did he take his time.

(Oh, I managed to pay for the stuff and thanked the cashier. Was very much humbled too.) On the way home, Lea sat in the front seat  with her face stuck to her cell as usual.

“Mom says we should get cheese, too,” she said.

“Oh, can we go check my ATM? I wonder why it’s not working…” I asked as well.

So, my strangely cooperative dad (whose fever has gone down) dropped my sister by a nearby sari-sari store to take me to the nearest ATM machine (which is quite far. Really. Tipong kabilang barangay pa.)  

“Bat dito? Sa KC Supermarket na lang,” I asked. 

“Dun na lang para malapit.”

“Mas malayo kaya yun.”

He checked hi cell. “Uh… sabi ng mommy mo bili pa daw ng chips.”

“Chips?”

“Cheese. Cheese pala.”

 He continued on to driving me to Concepcion where we knew the nearest ATM to be. But seeing the heavy traffic, my strangely cooperative dad stopped being cooperative.

“Balikan na natin kapatid mo. Anlayo na nito.”

O–kay. But I didn’t think anything of it. Actually, I was thinking that my sister is even more of a diva than I am and for sure, she will throw a tantrum if she’s made to wait too long. After all, she was just to get cheese.

But I didn’t wonder why she was only given 50 bucks for the cheese but she came to the car with a plastic bag. Or why the tricycle driver had to help her carry something to the trunk of the car. “She’s probably smuggling beer past my dad’s nose,” I thought, since she’s prone to doing that.

We went on home. But when we got to our little side street, we cannot park the car because there was another car in the driveway. My dad honked but nobody was coming. He got out and I assumed, went to look for the driver.

Then, my phone rang.

“Nasan ka?” Nina asked without preamble.

“Nandito sa may amin. Di ako makapasok kasi me car na nakaharang. Bakit?”

“Wala lang,” she said cheerily and hung up. I smelled something I should’ve smelled a while ago.

Now, there was something strange about the car blocking our way. I am absolutely awful with plate numbers but somehow the car looked familiar. I noticed the flower sticker on the rear window.

“Ate, ano ba?” Lea complained. I had my butt into the front seat because I was trying to get a better look.

“Isn’t that Bianca’s car?” I asked. I looked down to see my sister tapping away on her cell:

To: Nina 

klangan b tlgang 2mwag?

Ohmyghulay. I may be dense but not that dense. Right on cue, Nina, Dydee, and Bianca emerged from our street! And amid shrieks and hugs and a couple of expletives (from me of course), they handed me the peach wine bottle, Bianca’s gift to me.

So, they had to move the car to let ours in. I walked over to the house, still trying to let the surprise sink in. I walked past the gate.

Brian was standing in my garage. Sire and JM, together with JM’s fiancee Leslyn, were beside him. What the hell?!

“Anong ginagawa nyo dito?!!” I shrieked.

“Sabi ko sa yo inuman tayo sa birthday mo e,” Brian smiled.

And for the third day in a row, I celebrated my 23rd birthday. Mom’s spaghetti turned out to be a full-blown handa, complete with a choice of tuna or meat sauce for the pasta, menudo, buttered chicken sauce, a salad bar, lumpia, cheese sticks, gelatin, and macaroni salad. And she did it all from 3 to 5 only. My mom’s a superwoman. My ninong plugged in party music for us as we shared the drinks Kuya Leo, Ninong’s friend, mixed for us.

Ha! Those mixed drinks. Those traitor mixed drinks. I, for one, am a marathon drinker. I have a high tolerance for alcohol. But maybe it was the fact that I started drinking before I ate, or maybe it’s because I’ve always drunk more than I ate, or maybe it’s just the fact that I had 5 huge glasses of the European Cocktail even before Corine came by, but I didn’t realize that I was drunk. Usually, when I drink, there is an internal warning telling me that no, the world is not spinning. It’s just me feeling nauseous. This time, there was nothing. I didn’t realize how drunk I was, or that I was even tipsy. I should’ve known though. When JM and Leslyn went home, I should have realized that I was talking too loud. I should have realized that I was seeing only one person when we went back to the house. I should’ve realized that I actually pulled Jaenise in when she arrived, which was why she dunked her foot into the open sewer outside out house. (So sorry dear!)

But I didn’t realize those things. Pretty soon, I was too friggin drunk and the next thing I know, people were helping me get up to go to the bathroom already. My memory for details failed me. Scenes come back in flashes, without my knowing why or how they happened.

Flash.

I remember hunking over the bathroom sink, vomiting my gut out. I remember the gross detail of me being ashamed of throwing up so I dunked my hand into the sink to unclog it. I remember saying that it wasn’t supposed to be this way, that I was supposed to be perfect, that I couldn’t let my siblings see me drunk. Huh. Too late.

Flash.

I’m on the second flight of stairs to my room, Bes and Corine holding me up. It felt like they were with someone else but I guess that detail didn’t register. I tried to hoist myself up by gripping on the rails, but the railing swayed away from my grasp.

Flash.

I’m on my bed, my legs stretched out before me. Corine was trying to get my pants off my legs and I weakly protested. Actually, in my mind, that was a very insistent protest. But apparently it wasn’t much of a struggle in real life. Bes asked if they should change my clothes, to which I certainly remember firmly saying No. Then, I laid my head down the pillow and remembered no more.

Black.

Or so I thought. The next day, Bes told me it took 30-40 more minutes for me to stop yapping about things and shocking her and Corine with revelations I should not ever mention again because I only say them when I’m drunk and I’m sober right now. Corine said that they were wide-eyed while listening to me rant. I told her that there is no possible way for them to be wide-eyed. Hehe.

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My, such a long post. It took me two days and a certain amount of dread to finish. I know my storytelling sucks but I didn’t know any other way to tell it but to stay true to how I remembered it. The words I said when I was drunk are haunting me because 1) I have a vague feeling I knew what I was talking about but I just can’t remember saying them; and 2) because it has bothered me even before my birthday drunkenness. It involved a decision I made long ago and the fact that I still feel sad for choosing to do the right thing. I’ve said before that romance is overrated. It still is, and there are just more important things than romantic love. Things like friendship and future and being guilt-free.

Because of you I now seek out the signs that precipitate desires: shooting stars, falling objects.

-Pablo Neruda, Love

 

P.S.

Isn’t it strange? This is what my Tarot card application on Facebook said:

Tuesday, November 13, 2007

 

Strength
Strength is a card of courage, determination and inner might. You are in a position to deal with whatever comes your way. You have reached a position of influence and no longer need to force your beliefs upon others. You are aware of the temptations that exist, but your ability to resist them is strong. Be careful not to take advantage of your power or risk becoming abusive and destructive. Listen to your inner voice and trust your instincts.

~ by angmgatuhod on 13 November, 2007.