Nation of Servants

Heard about this article from Ninong Q.  HK writer Chip Tsao found Manila’s attempt to claim ownership of Spratly Islands as an insult to their race.

Manila has just claimed sovereignty over the scattered rocks in the South China Sea called the Spratly Islands, complete with a blatant threat from its congress to send gunboats to the South China Sea to defend the islands from China if necessary. This is beyond reproach. The reason: there are more than 130,000 Filipina maids working as $3,580-a-month cheap labor in Hong Kong. As a nation of servants, you don’t flex your muscles at your master, from whom you earn most of your bread and butter.

As expected, Filipino netizens here and abroad are passionately fighting the supposed “racism” of the former BBC reporter. HK magazine had to add a reminder on the page where the article was published as ballistic comments started coming in.

Please refrain from using profanity or making inappropriate comments. Comments will be disabled if profane or inappropriate comments continue. Please don’t ruin the discussion for everyone.

How did the article affect you?

My thoughts and comments below.

  • Hindi nga, puwede kang maging BBC reporter kung ganito ka magsulat?
  • Freedom of expression eh. Hindi natin puwede icensor si Sir.
  • Totoo naman diba? Nilalako natin ang ating human capital na parang kutsinta. Bakit tayo mao-offend kung sabihan tayong nation of servants?
  • Ayan, manggagalaiti na ang lahat ng pulitikong tatakbo sa susunod na eleksyon. Awww… patriotism. Heartt…
  • Kamukha ni Chip Tsao si Dr. Ang mula sa Shaider

Really now… Let’s not take ourselves too seriously.

Ang lahat ay naidadaan sa ligo.

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Birthday Bash and Updates

I turned 28 last Sunday. I am still pregnant. I miss blogging.

After the gelatinously-giddy entry, I had to make a decision: share or keep story from my OBGYN. My first choice was to not let her know about it. My OBGYN is extremely dedicated to the safety and well-being of her patients. This means that every irregularity that I reporty to her almost always brings me to the Emergency Room of a hospital that’s a 120-peso cab fare away from home. It also means no less than PhP 1,500 worth of emergency room and lab fees plus meds. She doesn’t charge for the visit – how can one hate her for being so caring? She just wants to make sure ALL THE TIME that the baby and the mother-to-be are safe. Anyways, at the end of the day, I decided to tell her that I think I’ve lost the magic plug. Her follow-up question was – any contractions? Oh no… Yes. Why can’t I lie?

With that, I was ordered to visit the wonderful place that is the ER. On the afternoon of my peaceful 28th birthday. On our way out of the house, I was greeted by… S U  R  P  R  I  S  E!!! The shouting was silenced by my declaration. Sorry family, we’re on our way to the hospital. I still feel guilty for not having the (social) presence of mind to invite my parents, sisters and uncle to come in for at least a glass of water. They ended up taking me and husband to the hospital.

I was hoping I’d give birth that day, kinda bad because Potling was just 34 weeks old then. It’s becoming more and more difficult to live life like a watermelon with legs. But it wasn’t time yet. Although… once again, just to be sure, I was ordered to go on bed rest.

I haven’t written anything since that fateful day. Mulai (our laptop) is always accessible but it just didn’t make sense to wirte and not publish right away. Naks. As if, I actually have readers. But seeing that my mental notepad is running out of space due to the things I’ve been wanting to write about, I’m giving in. I’m writing in notepad and leave the date of publishing to fate (that also means to the kindness of my husband’s heart – he is my link to the world).

As for Birthday Bash? My dear friends from work prepared a special dinner/snack for me and Mother D. Ninang Q was the mastermind and Josie Pussy was the accomplice. Everybody was thoughtful, sweet and kind that day. Hope I can give back the favor of contributing to surprise lunches/snacks/dinners for ALL of them when their birthdays come. One day, I’ll write about the special people in the event. For now, I’d end this entry with Josie Pussy’s public announcement during the event.

“We are the three mothers. I am Mother Josie. He’s Mother Domeng and she is the motherfucker.”

I love it when Pussy says that. It makes me feel great about myself. Don’t ask.

Anak ka ng PETA!

6,000 hogs joined the death row earlier this week. The hogs tested positive for Ebola-Reston. To avoid further transmission of the virus, experts recommended that the hogs  be killed, burned and buried.

Red tide on fish. Formalin on vegies. Melamine on milk and dairy products (and my favorite Meiji Dark Chocolate!). Surprisingly, these gastronomic threats didn’t bother me as much as Ebola-Reston on pigs did.

Perhaps it did not help that a couple of days after the Ebola news aired, some folks were reported selling double-dead pigs in the metropolis. There wasn’t any direct link between the double dead pigs and the Ebola-Reston junkies. But when these sound and video bytes air on the same week, on the same show, on the same TV, and I’m sitting on the same couch, housed on the same home, next to the same (of course) husband with the same unborn baby in my womb – IT IS SO EASY TO BE SCARED.

What if the adobo I cooked last week came from the ranks of the dead hog walking? I also cooked binagoongang baboy this week. What if that’s infected meat too?

When fear (of cooking, serving and eating viand with Ebola-Reston as side-dish) and anger (to the double dead pig entrepreneurs) collide, violence becomes an instinctive response. So I do not feel any guilt for wanting to destroy the face of this PETA member that  demanded a “quick, painless, humane death” for the 6,000 infected pigs. The pig goddess went as far as to demand that she and her pig-hugging friends be allowed to witness the massacre of the Ebola-Reston infected tribe.

Context. We are a POOR country. The Department of Agriculture cannot even afford to spend one bullet per pig. I don’t know if she knew what she was talking about but I am quite sure that when death is linked to “quick, painless and humane” it means EXPENSE.

Is PETA going to pay for the lovely death of their lovely friends? Maybe. But until they can say, “we will usher these pigs to pig heaven through ____ and we will cover all costs because we have filthy rich endorsers” then they should all just fucking zip it. Advocacy is a verb. It’s not a rhetorical masterpiece.

If you love animals so much, then live with them. Share your bed with a pig. Take your shower with a cow. Or go to Malabon zoo. Find a way to be surrounded by hungry crocodiles. And when you’re about to turn into croco-crunch, think of how faithful you were to non-violence until your very last pathetic breath.

We’re all entitled to believe, live and die for something.

You love animals, fine. You cannot stand cruelty against animals, fine. I am carnivorous. I have meat to protect. Our means to meat protection can be different. I’m ok with kill, burn and bury. You’re not. So what are you going to do about it? If you can only raise your fist and scream like a banshee that pigs are friends, just get out of the way.

Our First Fight

Hindi naming dalawa ni Sharksfin. Ang unang laban sa boxing na pinanood namin na sa aming bahay-bahayan – Pacquiao vs De La Hoya.
Wala akong alam sa boxing dahil hindi ko masakyan ang sports na may dugong involved. Pero dahil gusto kong mag-feeling supportive wife sa asawa, nakinood ako ng boxing. Disclaimer lang mula kay Sharksfin – hindi siya Pacquiao fan. Gusto raw lang niyang mapanood matalo si Pacquiao. Asus! Etchosero. Alam na naming nanalo si Manny pero nanood pa rin kami.

So… para kerihin ko ang dugo at everything testosteronish sa laban, ibang aspects na lang ang inobserbahan ko.

Sa weigh in, nakita kong bumakat ang pet ni De La Hoya. I swear. Bakit naman kasi naka-brief diba? Tuloy, paghubad niya ng shorts – kinailangang kumambyu ni kuya. Changing lanes si sir. Confirmed kani-kanina lang. Nakita rin ng sangkabadingan ito. Hindi ako nagi-imagine.

Napansin ko rin na hinihingal si Karylle sa pag-awit ng “Lupang Hinirang.” Kinakabahan siguro. Pero ako, kay Keyshia Cole ako kinabahan. Si ate, parang mahuhubaran ng damit any monument… at nangangambang malulon ang mike. Please panoorin ang video sa link sa ibaba. May libreng Exorcist moment pa rito.

Source: http://necolebitchie.com/2008/12/07/keyshia-cole-sings-the-national-anthem

Sa weigh-in ulit… I found this shot very (homo) sexual. Parang anytime, susunggaban ni Manny ang nipples ni Oskie boy – or vice versa.

But OMG… what could be more gay than this? Kebs na kung sino ang naglalaban. Booking with violence ito!

Sexbomb Girls, Dadamitan Ko Kayo!

Anim na araw na akong naka-bed rest dito sa bahay namin sa Tatalon. Dahil wala akong ginawa kundi mahiga, hindi nakakatakas sa akin ang Eat Bulaga.

Bukod sa talagang guwapo si Bossing, naabala ako sa isang obserbasyon. Nababaliw na yata ang gumagawa ng mga costume ng Sexbomb girls at nang kanilang mga baby sisters na EB babes. Nung minsan, mukha silang mirror ball. Hitsurang magkakasugatan pag nagbanggaan sila. Minsan naman para silang kurtina ng altar – maliit na altar dahil maliit na bahagi lang ng kanilang katawan ang dinadamitan.

Mainit ang ulo ko sa trabahong balbon. Parang may nakatutok na baril sa sintido ng mananahi habang nagde-design siya o nananahi. Hindi ako fashion design graduate at hindi rin ako pasyonista pero alam ko ang kaibahan ng damit sa kalat.

Siyempre, unawain na rin natin ang modista-costume designer. Isipin naman natin na may 52 weeks sa isang taon at sa 6 na araw sa bawat 52 weeks, kelangan niyang mag-isip ng design. Mauubusan naman talaga sila.

So eto na. Tutulungnan ko siya. Eto ang mga concept ng costume.

1. Fruit Salad
Isang prutas isang araw. Lunes, saging sila. Martes, bayabas. Miyerkules, mansanas. Huwebes, rambutan. Biyernes, langka. Sabado, santol. Sa dami ng prutas, buwan din ang aabutin bago maubos ang mga prutas costume. Pag naubos na ang mga prutas, sa last day, gugupit gupitin ang mga naging costume nila sa nakaaraan, pagsasama-samahin parang collage tapos tatawaging fruit salad finale. Ang mga ibang dancer ay naka-costume na langgam.

2. Appliances
Washing machine, refrigerator, television, radyo, dvd player… napakarami. Lalago pa ang aluminum foil business. Ang kyut sigurado ng mga babae kung minsan, hindi naman kurba ng bewang, balakang, dibdib at mga hita ang showcase sa costume nila. Lalabas ang tunay na sex appeal. Sino ang maganda pa rin kahit washing machine? Aabangan yan.

3. Gamit sa bahay (banyo, kusina, etc.)
Sofa, palanggana, tabo, timba, cabinet, pitsel, pangkayod ng yelo, pangtutuli, pangkamot ng likod, suyod, tyane, eskoba, almires, sandok, kawali, etc. Name it. Awww!

4. School and Office Supplies
Stapler, notebook, puncher, fastener, folder, thumbtacks, masking tape, scotch tape, glue, plastic cover, ballpen, highlighter, in-out tray, bonggang bongga lang ito pag June na. Tama na ang tag-ulan theme. Back to school tayong lahat.

5. Office Equipment
Photocopier, PC, teleponong maraming pindutan, LCD projector, pedestal, locker, bar code reader, typewriter (oo meron pang gumagamit niyan).

6. Mga bulaklak
O andami din niyan. Kalatsusi, gumamela, santan, rosas, bugambilya, yellow bell… pasok ito pag Mayo!

7. Mga hayop
Langgam, bulate, butiki, butete, kalabaw, kabayo, baboy, baka, kambing, buwaya, agila, maya, palaka… hindi mauubos ang mga ito. Mas mauuna maubos ang mga feather-feather sa Kamias bago maubos ang animal concepts.

8. Mga insekto
Lamok, tipaklong, salagubang, salaginto… diba, hindi nila kelangang maging fairy o periwinkle para makapagsuot ng pakpak.

9. Dress Like An Icon
Diyosko. Pag eto ang ginawa nila, lalong hindi sila mauubusan. Madonna, Ate Guy, Ate Vi, Mariah, Michael Jackson, kung sino sino pa.

10. Dress Like Streetchildren (puwede rin taong grasa, pulubi)
O walang magre-react. Marami rin yan.

O ayan. Sampung concept na yan. Sa aking conservative estimate, pwedeng abutin ng 5 years bago maubos ang mga costume concept sa mga kategoryang ito.

Hmm… ngayon ko lang naisip. Baka naman si Salvador Dali ang idol ng costume designer kaya gusto niya mukhang surreal ang mga dancer – sabi ng isang paboritong professor ko nung college “surreal, in tagalog, mukhang guniguni.” Kung ganon, eh bahala na sila.