How to Say Sawadee Ka!

The beautiful Lucy Sandy Shanghai. 

Lucy Sandy Shanghai is this nearly-there Thai trans-woman (transsexual, transvestite, transgender... ah, these concepts are giving me an aneurysm, screw political correctness), and he proved to me that the Gay Inflection could be universal.  He, well she, again screw political correctness, has this series of cute videos that are jump started by her signature Sawadee Ka! Sawadee Ka is Thai for Hello. What a useful phrase to remember. Anyway, Ka is gender specific. Men say "krap," so that's Sawadee Krap, and women say "ka," therefore Sawadee Ka! Lucy has transitioned over to the female persuasion, so Sawadee Ka is an absolute, indisputable given that screws political correctness. Twice. 

Lucy's "Sa" is high-pitched, throaty, an has a characteristic lisp. Thaa. "Wa" sounded like "haaa." The "w" was really a crossdressing "h," and the "a," there were three of them in my ears, could last a lifetime. Haaa. "Dee" was pronounced as is, and would have gone unnoticed if it wasn't for Ms Shanghai's delicious inflection. Dee. "Ka" was "kahhh" and sounded like... what you would sound like if... Imagine you were strangling yourself for a minute, or at least until you're close to fainting. You let go a few seconds before blacking out, and you are now gasping for air. And then you go for it. Go on. Kahhh. 

Taken as a whole, the lovely Ms Shanghai's "Sawadee Ka" would be an octave higher. It will be throaty and nasal at the same time, and it will have you maimed and punched and mobbed and bludgeoned to within an inch of your life if you weren't as cute as she is. Having said that, let us give it a go.

No, wait, here's a link to one of those videos I was referring to earlier. Use this as a guide. 

Sawadee Ka! 

"Thaa-haaa-dee-kahhh"

Let's Take a Break

You guys deserve a break from the usual Friday drivel, so I'm not doing an update this week. I know how "abuse" feels like, so I'll shut up for now and see you all next week. I will be back with an update then. Scout's honor. For now, I would far rather be the honorary girl I'm supposed to be and bake me a hot batch of "Me Time." The homo that I am has gone tired of brushing my Barbie's hair with a serrated fork, so I'll give him a break instead. 

You guys have been Liking status updates for an hour now. Get up. Do something. Put your running shoes on. Break a sweat. Find time to masturbate. 

Meanwhile, here's a picture of a "break" in black and white. 

See you all next week! Muahness from Pasig Cirehhh!

The Problem With 500 Words

Unless you are like me who tends to complicate things that don't really mean anything to anyone else, writing 500 words in a day is as easy as taking a walk in the park. Unless you are like me who imagines a quadriplegic taking That walk in the park, writing 500 words in a day shouldn't take much thought. Most especially if you imagine you've been writing, or what comes close to it, for a few years now and you have a few notebooks to show for it. What is 500 words to someone like me who over thinks a lot and has been using longhand therapy to make up for, or make fun of everybody else's shortcomings? It should be easy, until you are someone like me who's guaranteed to think of a valid problem. It could be easy, though, if it isn't for one little detail. 

How do you know you're hitting your 500-word quota if you are writing long hand? How do you measure your progress when you are given to flagellating your output with simultaneous edits? How do you know you can use a pee break when the last few sentences you wrote don't sit well with your sexy thinking and you have to scratch them out. You know you can write better than that, so you disregard what you've written so far with a finalizing slash... across... every corny line you've written so far. How do you know you have committed to your daily target when you are largely critical of your output? And you make it clear with a series of homicidal edits that put you back to square one? 

See. I told you I complicate. But really, how do you keep count? And how do you know you're done? Are you thinking the same labor-intensive method I'm thinking? Does the phrase "11th-century dentistry" ring a bell? No? I told you I complicate. 

Is there perhaps a practical geometry to it? Say for instance an area of paper space that's four inches wide and three inches "tall" accommodates a given constant of words, maybe seventy? Consequent mathematics "should" yield reasonable results. "Should" was the word I seized on. This is because some people, in an attempt to sound smart on print, employ big words that are several kilometers long and would require a taxi meter to measure their exact length. It doesn't stop there. You wished. We would expect an obscene scattering of regurgitate adjectives. They will force-feed their sentences with modifiers until it is pregnant with conceit. This means that, with the wrong people, the sentence "I am so smarter than yous peoples of course look at my big words hello!" can be so bloated to fill paper space that's roughly four inches wide and three inches tall. 

It can be argued that this follows the rule, but who wants to read seventy words that don't say anything? 

Or there is That method. 

One can employ the time honored "Looks Like It" method that was popularized by The LLI School of Counting Words. LLI being, of course, Looks Like It. I am somewhat familiar with this method because I was once upon a time privileged enough to gain admittance into this most illustrious of institutions. My coolness is unknown to you? I understand. And I am not without a heart, for I will let slip a quick tutorial provided we keep this breach of trust to ourselves.  

The unfamiliar novice will benefit from this quick demonstration. And I should hope you pay attention, if you can. This near-criminal act will cause my anonymous colleagues to regard me with some contempt. But I am willing to risk invitations to the monthly Sabbaths (I am not allowed to speak of this any further) if it will solve your word counting problems. 

I could always employ this technique for my own purposes, but I am well aware of the... consequences for habitual practitioners. This explains my problem now, but anyway. 

The privileged few who can practice the LLI Method without fear of being smote is known for his delivery of the following lines verbatim. It follows a deceptively simple Question and Answer pattern, whose complexity parallels the Answer to the Ultimate Question of Life, the Universe, and Everything. The answer is 42, but what is the Ultimate Question? Exactly. Having said that, allow me to demonstrate the infamous LLI Method: 

Question: Does this look like 500 words to you?

Answer: Looks like it. 

Legends mention a rival school of thinking, the FLI School, who enjoyed veeery little popularity for a veeery little time. They argue that their method, the Feels Like It Method, should be the Foremost King of the Word Counting Schools Hill on account of their philosophy touches on several points that were ignored by the LLI School and ... blah blah blah whatever... 

This looks like 500 words to me. 

Si Lemuel. Mediooo Mapogi.

**Mga kaibigan, nais kong ipakilala sa inyo ang isa sa mga paborito kong nagi-inutil na timawa. Siya ay si Lemuel. Isa siyang telemarketer na aking nakilala noong... Pebrero pa... 2005. Matandain ako kaya alam ko yang mga ganyang bagay. Nagta-trabaho siya nun sa... saaa... PLDT at minsang nagkausap kami sa telepono ay alam ko na.... alam na alam ko na... na hindi ko siya titigilan kahit kailan pa man. Matagal ko nang kilala itong si Lemuel, at ilang beses ko na rin siyang ni-repost dito. Oo, repost. Ngayon lang ako nag-intro ng Tagalog para maiba lang.

Image from Arhiblog.

LEMUEL: Puwede po ba kay Rommel Tullao? Si Lemuel po ito, sa PLDT.

MOMEL: Si Rommel ito, bakit, anong problema? (Lakas maka-hombre noh? Rommel. Parang anak ng general.)

LEMUEL: Tanong ko lang po kung may picture na kayo sa PLDT?

MOMEL: Picture? Anong picture? Bakit kailangan ng picture sa PLDT? ID ba yan? Ilalagay sa billing statement?

LEMUEL: Hindi po. Pictures po para sa PLDT, yun bang call wait, call fo-ward, tsaka speed dial. (Walang patumpik tumpik. Hindi siya nag-buckle. Features pala.)

MOMEL: (Loob loob ko eh "Ahhh, gago to.") Ahhh, wala pa. Pwede bang paki-explain yon, hindi ko alam yun eh. (Nagdi-dial ako bilang telemarketer ng mga panahong ito, pero ngayon lang ako nakatanggap ng telemarketing na tawag.) Yung call wait, alam ko iyon, meron kami noon eh. Eh ano naman yung call forward?

LEMUEL: Yung call fo-ward kasi ganito yun eh, parang ano lang yun, kuwan. Teka lang ha. (Pagdating dito eh binaba niya sandali yung telepono at may narinig akong sigawan.)

LEMUEL: HOY, NONG! ANO BA ULIT YUNG, ANO BA YUN, YUNG CALL FO-WARDING? EH PINAPAPALIWANAG NITONG KAUSAP KO EH!

NONG: SABI-HEN mo, yung call fo-ward, ano lang yun, halimbawa, may pupuntahan siyang birthday, tapos ano, TEKA NGA! (At kinuha na ni Nong ang telepono.)

NONG: Hello, ikaw ba yung kausap ni Lemuel?

MOMEL: Opo (Duh). Ano ho ba ulit yung call forwarding? (Medio libang na ko nito.)

NONG: Kasi ganito yun, halimbawa, may pupuntahan kang birthday, tapos walang maiiwan sa inyo, edi ang gawin mo, i-call fo-ward mo yung telepono mo para doon mo na lang sasagutin sa birthday.

MOMEL: Aaah, eh pa'no kung walang telepono sa pupuntahan kong birthday?

NONG: Ehhh, pakabitan natin. Pero kuha mo na yung call fo-ward, ha ser?

MOMEL: Oo, okay na.

NONG: Ehhh, teka lang ha. (Binaba niya sandali ung telepono at may sinigawan, "HOY Lemuel, okay na. Eto na 'o!" Ilang segundo lang ang nakalipas aaatt... )

LEMUEL: Okay na ser?

MOMEL: Oo, okay na. Eh ano naman yung speed dial, ha?

LEMUEL: Ganito lang po yun ser. Yung speed dial eh ano lang, magpipindot kalang ng number tapos makakadial ka na.

MOMEL: Niloloko mo ata ako eh! Eh siyempre ganoon talaga yun para maka-dial, pipindutin mo siyempre yung mga number!

LEMUEL: Hindi po ganoon yun. (Mali na naman ako. Hindi na ako tumama. Iba ka Lemuel.) Ibig sabihin, isang number lang yung pipindutin mo para imbes na (Nagbibilang siya...) para imbes na pitong number eh isang number na lang yung ida-dial mo.

MOMEL: Teka, call center ba ito?

LEMUEL: Hindi po, PLDT po ito. Sa OPSIM (Parang ganun.), dito po sa San Joaquin (Pasig).

MOMEL: Eh paano ko malalaman na PLDT ka nga?

LEMUEL: Punta po kayo dito. Dito po kami sa tapat ng ...

MOMEL: HA? Pinapapunta mo ako diyan? Teka, magkano naman yung tatlong features na iyan ha?

LEMUEL: Ano po, P59.75 lang kada buwan. Fixed na ho iyon.

MOMEL: Puwede ko namang i-cancel pag ayoko na?

LEMUEL: Opo, kayo naman magbabayad noon eh.

MOMEL: Tapos, doon na lang siya lalabas sa billing statement, diba?

LEMUEL: Opo.

MOMEL: Tapos, kailan siya maa-activate ha, Lemuel?

LEMUEL: Tatlong araw pa ho, kaya malamang sa Lunes.

MOMEL: So, anong kailangan mo ngayon?

LEMUEL: Kelan birthday mo?

MOMEL: BAKIT MO NAMAN TINATANONG ANG BIRTHDAY KO?

LEMUEL: Eh, kailangan po eh. (Oo nga naman, Rommel. Hindi ka mananalo diyan.)

MOMEL: O sige, August 8.

LEMUEL: Akina na yung SSS number mo.

MOMEL: HA? Pati ba iyon?

LEMUEL: Kailangan po eh.

MOMEL: Naku eh, nasa office ID ko, hindi ko maalala. Tawagan mo na lang ako sa Lunes para maibigay ko sa iyo, okay?

LEMUEL: Wala ho sa inyo ngayon?

MOMEL: Tawagan mo na lang ako sa Lunes.

LEMUEL: O sige po. Babay.


Dun na natapos. At hindi na tumawag si Lemuel. Sayang.

You Wish You Can Read Something Like This in Your Grave

**It was very idle browsing that landed me to this amazing obituary. I was floored by how Mary Mullaney, Pink to her beloved, left such indelible tender thoughts in her loved ones. It's things like this that make the internet, and life, a worthwhile distraction. And I can only hope that someday in the very far off future, somebody will make me an obituary that's half as luminous as this. 

**Happy Holidays to you and the weird nerd next to you. Live next year well, alright? Muahness from Pasig Cirehhh!

Image and Obituary were borrowed from The Huffington Post.

If you're about to throw away an old pair of pantyhose, stop. Consider: Mary Agnes Mullaney (you probably knew her as "Pink") who entered eternal life on Sunday, September 1, 2013. Her spirit is carried on by her six children, 17 grandchildren, three surviving siblings in New "Joisey", and an extended family of relations and friends from every walk of life. We were blessed to learn many valuable lessons from Pink during her 85 years, among them: Never throw away old pantyhose. Use the old ones to tie gutters, child-proof cabinets, tie toilet flappers, or hang Christmas ornaments.

Also: If a possum takes up residence in your shed, grab a barbecue brush to coax him out. If he doesn't leave, brush him for twenty minutes and let him stay.

Let a dog (or two or three) share your bed. Say the rosary while you walk them.

Go to church with a chicken sandwich in your purse. Cry at the consecration, every time. Give the chicken sandwich to your homeless friend after mass.

Go to a nursing home and kiss everyone. When you learn someone's name, share their patron saint's story, and their feast day, so they can celebrate. Invite new friends to Thanksgiving dinner. If they are from another country and you have trouble understanding them, learn to "listen with an accent."

Never say mean things about anybody; they are "poor souls to pray for."

Put picky-eating children in the box at the bottom of the laundry chute, tell them they are hungry lions in a cage, and feed them veggies through the slats.

Correspond with the imprisoned and have lunch with the cognitively challenged.

Do the Jumble every morning.

Keep the car keys under the front seat so they don't get lost.

Make the car dance by lightly tapping the brakes to the beat of songs on the radio.

Offer rides to people carrying a big load or caught in the rain or summer heat. Believe the hitchhiker you pick up who says he is a landscaper and his name is "Peat Moss."

Help anyone struggling to get their kids into a car or shopping cart or across a parking lot.

Give to every charity that asks. Choose to believe the best about what they do with your money, no matter what your children say they discovered online.

Allow the homeless to keep warm in your car while you are at Mass.

Take magazines you've already read to your doctors' office for others to enjoy. Do not tear off the mailing label, "Because if someone wants to contact me, that would be nice."

In her lifetime, Pink made contact time after time. Those who've taken her lessons to heart will continue to ensure that a cold drink will be left for the overheated garbage collector and mail carrier, every baby will be kissed, every nursing home resident will be visited, the hungry will have a sandwich, the guest will have a warm bed and soft nightlight, and the encroaching possum will know the soothing sensation of a barbecue brush upon its back.

Above all, Pink wrote -- to everyone, about everything. You may read this and recall a letter from her that touched your heart, tickled your funny bone, or maybe made you say "huh?"

She is survived by her children and grandchildren whose photos she would share with prospective friends in the checkout line: Tim (wife Janice, children Timmy, Joey, T.J., Miki and Danny); Kevin (wife Kathy, children Kacey, Ryan, Jordan and Kevin); Jerry (wife Gita, children Nisha and Cathan); MaryAnne; Peter (wife Maria Jose, children Rodrigo and Paulo); and Meg (husband David Vartanian, children Peter, Lily, Jerry and Blase); siblings Anne, Helen, and Robert; and many in-laws, nieces, nephews, friends and family too numerous to list but not forgotten.

Pink is reunited with her husband and favorite dance and political debate partner, Dr. Gerald L. Mullaney, and is predeceased by six siblings.