I Fucking Hate Tuesdays

I got home this morning at three in the morning from the grand opening of my friend David's bar - The Breakfast Club - in BF Homes. For a Monday night, last night seriously was a hoot. Personally, I didn't find the bands appealing to my taste because they all played senti crap. Enough of that for me, right? It was the company and the booze that really made my night. Practically all the people from the Cebu trip (except... hmmm.) and the Baguio trip (except Yenee! Sayang!) were there, plus all three of my future roommates.

After three beers, a glass of the famous kamikaze that downed Uli the previous night, and at least 15 test tubes of Jagermeister (I lost count soon after), I was my usual drunk-but-not-wasted-self, flitting between people with my camera in hand and a stupid grin on my face, taking pictures and bugging people left and right. An hour or so before I left, the DJ started playing old school house anthems from our time - Blue, Side by Side, some Daft Punk - and all my friends were wasted enough to go dancing up front. Haha.

To cut a long story short, I brought a wasted Miguel and a sobering-up Aya home, and got home at almost three in the morning. I couldn't take a shower, brush my teeth, nor take the hair gum out of my hair because the water was dead, so I just gargled a few mouthfuls of mouthwash and jumped into bed.

Check out my Multiply site for the pictures.

* * *

My dad literally pulled me out of bed at five this morning. Yes, I only had two hours of sleep, and I was still at least an eighth full of alcohol. I took an extra long shower to get the smell of smoke and alcohol off my body, shampooing thrice to get it out of my hair, and brushed my teeth twice.

As usual, I was running pretty late for work, so I gunned the Starex on the Skyway, hitting a top speed of 150 kph. I kid you not folks; I should've taken a picture. Can I just say, SuperStarex? Haha. Okay, that sucked.

I got to the office ten minutes late, as usual, and was surprised to see that all my officemates were absent. My two bosses were out of the country, my junior boss was at the Pasig plant, and the assistant was at some counselling meeting in Quezon City. I got a relatively big amount of work done in the first two hours of work, but then I got an epiphany.

All my bosses were out. I wasn't accountable to anyone, so how about I cut work and go somewhere else for "lunch". Okay, that didn't sound like me (the way I said it, not the cutting part). After a few SMSes sent here and there, I figured that I could meet up with Anna and Sinta in UP for a bit of lunch.

* * *

As I was about to leave the office, I discovered that my temporary company ID was missing, probably dropped on one of the many trips I had made to the comfort room to relieve my rather massive hangover. I had to do something about it; if I didn't have an ID I wouldn't get back into the office later that afternoon, and I wouldn't be able to claim my school ID at the guard's. So there - I shelled out seventy-five pesos for a new ID, a total rip-off in my opinion, and scrambled across the street to my car.

Just two minutes away from the office, at some intersection between some godforsaken eskinita and Quirino Avenue Extension, I happened to run a rather misplaced traffic light that was on red. And just my luck - a proud member of Manila's Finest (that's what they call themselves on their squad cars, I kid you not) was just a few meters down the street to see my injunction. He flagged me down, promptly confiscated my license and issued me a ticket, and ignored all of my pleas to let-me-off-just-this-time-I'm-not-from-Manila-I'm-sorry-is-there-any-way-I-could-make-for-it, told me to haul my ass to City Hall within three days, and sent me off. Finally, an upright policeman! (And it's not like I had any cash left to pay the kotong.)

And it gets worse - off I am driving carefully and slowly along Quirino Avenue, now devoid of my pink driver's license, looking for a U-Turn slot so I could head to Espana Street, and eventually to Quezon City. I positioned myself on the left side, like a normal driver would, watching out for the tell-tale hole-in-the-divider without a "No U-Turn" sign beside it. Gil Puyat? Nope. Osmena Highway? Nope. The traffic light was green, and cars were turning left to head back to SLEX, so I shifted lanes towards the right to give way and head straight along Quirino. And there - a butch woman in MMDA blue flagged me down and proceeded to give me a ticket for swerving, less than two minutes after the Manila Police caught me. Apparently you can only go straight on Quirino on the lanes over which the full green lights shine, not the ones with green arrows. I didn't know that.

As soon as I pull down my window to talk to the officer, I start whining ad misericordiam to appeal to the motherly instincts of this unseemingly feminine creature. "Miss sige na, kaka-two minutes pa lang kakahuli ko lang doon sa kanto. Hindi po ako taga-Maynila, hinahanap ko lang ang Espana para mabisita ko long-lost friends ko. Sige na po maawa kayo, hindi ko po sinasadya." And it worked! Gullible bitch. Bwahahaha.

With a surprisingly strong slap on my shoulder and a rather obscure set of directions, she sets me off on my way to the now-elusive Quezon City.

(TO BE CONTINUED WHEN I GET HOME; I JUST LEFT WORK)