There and Back Again (Alternatively Titled: Can’t Wait to Live the Fuck-Me-Freddy Life with Sea Breeze-slash-Mountain Air for Almost Five Clusterfuck Days!)

The sappy I-think-I’m-in-love shout out is over. Surprisingly, a lot of people contributed their two-cents’ worth and the general sentiment was I am not really a hundred percent Fuck-me-Freddy narcissistic bastard as what I claim, or at least, display myself to be. I could be the mushiest romantic in the entire macrocosm, they say.  I do not disagree. Maybe, deep down inside, I am really a passionate poet waxing lines upon lines of love and devotion, of woe and wooing. But when we come to think of it, people can be the least person that they expect themselves to be when they’re in love. And if this girl reciprocates eventually, then the hell I care for being branded as the mushiest person in the entire macrocosm. I’d say it would even be all worth the tag. So as of the moment, I am harnessing all the bloody chakra I could muster to put my empty words into action.

In the meantime, though, I’m back to my fuckin’ narcissistic clusterfuck bastard mantra. Folks, welcome back to regular programming.

So my expectation to celebrate this overrated holiday season in front of a lifeless circuit shell yakking some technical gibberish to some dumb clusterfuck in the other side of the world is nothing but that, a failed expectation. In spite of all the shitty remarks and bastardly way of sinning I’ve been so accustomed to for the last quarter of this year, the Guy Up There seems to still favor me more than His other pious believers. I’ve been a mischievous boy as of late and I have anticipated reliving Dante’s Divine Comedy come Christmas time but what do you know, this fat blood-colored asshole from North Pole has checked his list twice and rewarded me for being a naughty bastard. Much to my surprise, the vacation leaves I filed half-heartedly have been approved (it is Christmas and rarely does a call center company allow VL credits during these times) and I think I will be smooching the company work force management’s wet fart-laden asses. Bleech! Or maybe not. Nevertheless, I’m finding my way back home this holiday rush and I admit I’m becoming giddy as hell.

Almost five fuck-me-Freddy days! Five days of living the bastardly life devoid of molested ear drums and yadda yadda tonsils, five days of trading the vacuum life of Manila to the leisurely laidback slow mo pacing of Pangasinan-slash-Baguio. Five days of drinking marathon for crying out loud! Sweet-leapin’-jeezuz-christ! This early, I am planning my itinerary to make the most out of the pseudo-demigod rock lifestyle. Or rather, I am recycling the itinerary that I failed to accomplish miserably in my Beer Bakasyon post. Every fuckin’ second counts and I would like to believe I will be making good use of it this time around. So in the spirit of Beer Bakasyon reruns, allow me to enumerate the things I ought to do:

1. Drink a lot of booze.

2.  Finally meet up with high school friends whom I terribly miss and whom I have not seen since gawd-knows-when. The last time I went back home, I said I will but failed to visit Hacel and Fred and Sheena and all the other potpourri folks back in high school. I’m keeping my fingers crossed this time, and hopefully I won’t become beer bloated to finally pay them some reunion-deserved pop in.

3. Drink a lot of booze.

4. Finish reading my book backlogs. I’m bringing with me dried cum-splattered porn magazines quirky Zafra and superfluous Garcia-Marquez and some other random pickings in the hope that I won’t drool in the estimated five-hour trip (I’ll be traveling back home right after my sleep-deprived last shift from work so it will require a lot of effort and constant prodding not to doze off while in the bus). Oh, and yes, Crispy Rai, if you’re reading this my apologies for the too-long-hoarded Gaiman paperback. I promise to finish it this time around and I will be giving it back to you come 27^th. Here’s to looking forward to more book lending from you. Haha! And I do hope you find you’re Salinger copy soon. I’m itching to read it. :p

5. Go to Baguio and have a much-anticipated gin-slash-beer drinking session-cum-reunion with my Baguio big brothers whose company I likewise terribly miss; the inebriated chorus of us all reverberating across the whole mountain air, ignoring the barangay watchman’s warning, reliving yesterday’s OPM bands through Kuya Charlie’s guitar, complete with the majestic dripping fog of the highlands makes a wicked picturesque scene. I was informed that some have already moved to some other boarding house and still others have gone back home in the province to rest for awhile. It seems that the fellowship is destined to be broken eventually but I hope not. And I do hope that when I hike up to Baguio this time around, we can relive the beerkada once more.

6. Drink a lot of booze.

7. Finish the blog post about our recent call center team-building in Tagaytay that happened a long, long time ago.  I sure hope I would find the inspiration to finally finish the much-delayed team-building chronicle. I checked out the pictures from our Google team account just recently and they’re still intact but I can’t find the insanely neurotic picture of my teammate Rap and his love-to-be-fucked asshole devoid of bacon briefs and short shorts in full view to all of us. We all laughed hard as hell for the crazy antic and I thought it was hilarious in a mad Rap persona way. I need to find that pic because it’s going to be my center piece for the post. Haha!

8. Keep in touch with cousins who, like me, have deserted the ancestral compound in the province to search for greener pastures in the Idyllic City up north or in the Hasty City down south (or maybe, just to stay away from the looming stagnation and bondage that provincial life has to offer).

9.  Have some quality time with my cute little nephews and nieces who, the last time I chanced upon, were gaining weight like pigs groomed for the next big wedding and were ballooning in such alarming proportions. Would you believe I’m coming home with nary some bucks to spend save for my fare ticket just so these cute, little angels could have the gifts they want from their equally cute Tito Lio? Never mind though. For as long as I see them giddy and scatterbrained over their new toys, I think I could bear being penniless for a day. Of course the pauper stance is just brief as I am told we get to receive our month-end pay early - on the 24th to be exact. LOL!

10. Rest. Sleep. Lie down like a dead-tired Snorlax. Drink a lot of booze.

Tough list, I see. Especially on the conspicuous “Drink a lot of booze” repetition. But I am a resolute clusterfuck. And come hell or high waters, I am determined to accomplish it this time. Of course in between these lines are my start-up tactics with the woman I am currently becoming head over heels for. Head over hills for? Jeezuzchrist! I am becoming a softy again as what axl has mentioned.

So I’m cutting the crap before I start  moaning over Eva Fonda, who the green (literally and figuratively) Ferbert, I am aware, is so selfish to not share with other sex-hungry bastards well within their early twenties  speaking similes and romantic aphorisms. I’m making this short because I’m in a rush to go to work and I wouldn’t want to be caught in the middle of friggin’ fuck-me-Freddy traffic along Taft Avenue.

I’d rather not be late today or else, the company demigods might change their revenue-hoarding minds and burst my giddy five-day nirvana bubble by telling me that the approval for my VL application has been revoked.

Postscript:

I have grown to become the most fucked up shrinking Scrooge this side of the archipelago and to be honest, I don’t celebrate Christmas with much gaiety; I just actually sleep after eating whatever has been served in the Noche Buena table (save, of course, if there are any drinking marathon to attend to). I’ve learned early on that the beer-bellied Santa every stupid child adores is nothing but a pumping pedophile marketing ploy for capitalists to earn more moolah.

For this narcissistic fuck-me-Freddy bastard, Christmas (like the friggin’ Twilight saga) is overrated. I mean, really now folks, we’re fooling ourselves if this is the only time of the year that we practice our selfless I’m-giving-you-this-gift grandstanding. If you really are that proverbial Good Samaritan, you can choose to be selfless and caring and giving and whatever positive adjective is usually being over-used during this season any time of the year and not only when the advent of Christmas arrives. But fuck you and all your smooching clan if you’re one of those who think they’re gawd-sent goodie-goodie creatures of society giving their piece of wealth and spreading pseudo-humanitarian good cause and good words to the poor and destitute only when December marks your calendars.

So for all its worth and for whatever petty ephemeral elation this might bring you, I’m throwing in my half-meant holiday message to all my readers: Have a Merry Christmas to You and Your Family!