If I have PhP 2,000,000.00 (Yes, two million pesos), I will dine in Le Cirque (native French speakers say Lu Cirk, non-French speakers read it as Le Cirk) in New York. I will see to it that the bill for my dinner should hover near PhP 1,000,000.00. Bakit si Gloria Arroyo lang ba ang marunong ng tinatawag na high life? And after dining and wining in that fancy and pricey restaurant, I will hire a stretch limo with a white-gloved chauffer to drive me around New York City, and off to Washington DC where I will reserve a table overlooking the sidewalk for lunch (Barack Obama might see me as he walks to his office, and might want to have a chat with me.) in that other fancy restaurant, the Bobby Van’s Steakhouse at 15th Street. Ah, Ms. Arroyo, eat your heart out. I will splurge like no other but Gloria Arroyo.
Herewith are some clippings from Ms. Arroyo's spending habit which I plan to top. Daw siya pa ang astig! The first clipping is from the New York Post. The second one is from the Washington Post.
From: The Washington Post’s Reliable Source gossip column
by Roxanne Roberts and Amy Argetsinger
Heartburn Over Two Big Meals
President Obama and Philippine President Gloria Macapagal Arroyo talk in the Oval Office on July 30. (AP Photo/Alex Brandon)
Philippine President Gloria Macapagal Arroyo’s visit to the White House on July 30 didn’t draw much attention, and her dinner in Washington that night got nary a mention. And that’s how it might have stayed — if not for a controversial meal in New York City.
Arroyo is under fire in her native country for a $20,000 meal at Manhattan’s Le Cirque on Aug. 2, which included caviar and several bottles of champagne. The dinner, first reported in the New York Post, has Arroyo’s critics comparing her to the extravagant Imelda Marcos.
The Reliable Source has learned that three days earlier, Arroyo and an entourage of about 65 people (including security and food tasters) had dinner at Bobby Van’s Steakhouse on 15th Street NW hours after she met with President Obama. The group took over one of the restaurant’s private rooms and dined on lobster, steak and fine wines; at the conclusion of the meal, an unidentified woman opened a handbag stuffed with cash, counted out bills and paid the $15,000 tab — which included a generous tip.
The Philippine Embassy did not return calls for comment Tuesday. @
Saturday, August 15, 2009
What to do when you have PhP 2,000,000?
Thursday, August 13, 2009
Cellphone scam
Note: I saw this email dated June 18, 2008 in my Sent box. I sent this to many of my friends and relatives. I warned them about the scam I experienced. I copied the email, without editing, for this post.
Today I became a victim of a cellphone scam. Nakakahiya!
As soon as I left our house, a male voice called my wife asking about me. He introduced his self as my relative, as we carry the same surname. As I was not around, he asked for my cp. My wife hesitated but he said it was an emergency.
Then I received a text message while driving. I ignored it as the number was not registered in my cp. When I was in school, I read the message. He gave his name and that he had a road accident in Barotac Viejo; the car he was driving hit a child. I called my cousins to inquire about the name. Unluckily, all the cp I called just rang. No answer. Then my 'relative' called my cp. He sounded calm. I asked about where he lives, and the names of his parents. He gave an address in our town and some names which were familiar. In my mind, he sounded the same as the person he claimed to be. As the talk dragged on, I asked how I can help. He asked for PhP 200 load as he will call Manila and he could not leave the place to buy load. I was relieved. He asked for a very small help. I asked somebody to buy him load. After a while he texted again that the child he hit, died. As I was slow in replying, he called my cp to convey the bad news. He said he was in the office of Mayor Myrna Tupas, negotiating with the parents; and that his lawyer Atty. Gerochi is on the way from the city. I thought to myself, bigtime ang relative ko! After sometime I asked him to keep me posted and hang up. Then he texted again that he needed more load. He'll pay in the afternoon when he reached the city. Nagpasa-load ako ng PhP60, the maximum. Then he texted that the parents were asking money. He could not leave if he could not give. He asked my help. I texted back I didn't have money. But I could negotiate with his aunt in our town.
As I was already at home, I called her purported aunt to inquire about him. His 'aunt' was the first to hint of a scam. I called the hospitals in Barotac Viejo, and the town's police station. According to them, no vehicular accident that day. I texted my 'relative' and inquired again about the names of his parents. No reply. I baited him to reply by texting I have PhP 3,000 ready for him. No reply. Maybe he thought I was smalltime! I was scammed!
Texts from far and unknown relatives asking for help is not new to me. But these are helps of where to go, whom to see, etc., etc. No one asked for money.
Anyway, it was a lesson worth PhP 260. Smalltime. But be aware.
Saturday, August 8, 2009
Colay C, a certified widow
As a woman, Colay has come full circle – from an expectant wife, to an ecstatic mother, to a doting owaw, and now a grieving widow. She tackles her latest role like an Aquino - serene and dignified in grief like Cory, and radiant and photogenic in black like Kris. And as Colay essays this part with sweet memories of Boy V, her late husband, others look at her with envy because si Colay balo na kag sanda laon man gihapon. (OK lang kon bingkong. Pero laon as in wala gid. Baw, waay gid tanda ka-intindi kon ano sayuron ang sulat ni Shakespeare, ‘It’s beter to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.’ Insa ginpapasar tanda ni Maroma sa Literature?) What more can a woman ask (other than to have another crack at becoming a wife, this time to a foreigner, para iba naman)?
Boy V died of a lingering illness. The funeral started with a mass at 2:00pm August 8, 2009 at the Cabatuan Parish Church. Interment followed at the Cabatuan Roman Catholic Cemetery.
During the funeral, the widow and the rest, were teary-eyed but composed, sad but solemn. These could be the hallmarks of schooled (i.e. stoic) and religious (the dead goes back to his God) mourners. The wailing and the buckets of tears were reserved for the old folks of the barrios.
Indeed, gone were the days when observers would know the kin of the dead by the loudness of their wails and the severity of their cries. Long ago, it was a must that a wife should shout ‘Ilubong man nyo ako! Indi ako mabuhi kon waay ang bana ko!’ during the burial of her husband. A husband should shout ‘Ay abaw, indi na gid ako mag-asawa! Wah wah wah!’ during the burial of his wife, never mind if he was already seeing another woman from another barrio while his wife was still bedridden. And the other family members should resonate with a chorus of ‘Waaaahhhh!’ and ‘Hu huh huh huh!’, or should fall – hinimatay - like dominoes, all these timed when the coffin was being lowered unto the grave. Silence and no tears during funerals of the past meant that the dead was unloved or had left no wealth for the departed to fight over. Had anyone tried to push a wailing wife to the grave? Of course yes. And the wife, standing atop the coffin inside the grave, tersely cursed the pusher, as he could have harmed or hurt the now very angry, and not a very sad wife.
I remembered my aunt wailing as if paid handsomely to do it, when she saw me at the wake of her only daughter. ‘Baw waay na si Manang moooooooooh!’, she bawled as she embraced me. ‘Baw sin-o na lang ka diya ang iba kooooooooooo! Baw ginsilutan gid akoooo!’ I was so carried by the crying that I was about to cry myself. But she suddenly stopped. No she didn’t go into a stupor. She just whispered to my ear, ‘To, basi mag-brown out. I-prepara ang mga kandila.' Then, as suddenly as she stopped, she again went into wild wailing and thrashing for everyone to hear and see.
But today’s composed demeanor in the current Filipina mourning is comforting and remarkable. Widows are in command and very sensible, anyone in black can easily go straight to Michael Jackson’s wake, and announce to all and sundry that she is the lost mother of Michael’s third child, without raising a hint of suspicion. Nevermind if that child has a pointy nose. Anyone can always blame a botched nose job. Uso naman ang kaso against Vicky Belo, right?
Colay was consoled by her classmates.....
The classmates looked somber and condoling as the occassion was a funeral....
But the classmates actually looked more joyous than this as they stifled their laughs when reminded that they were on camera, and they should look grieving, not celebratory as if they had just won in the lotto.
Colay was consoled by her many classmates, as Colay was always present in the wakes attended by the class. It was even joked around that the social life of the ageing members of the class was going to wakes.
Wakes are for mourners. But who says you can’t have fun during wakes? Jokes are the best antidote for getting drowsy. And what were some of the jokes?
The classmates supplied strong shoulders to lean on, and empty stomachs to gorge on the pre-packed snacks for the mourners. They were too happy to have more than one pack for snacks, and more to bring home for their dinners and the next day's breakfast.
In all the activities of the class, Colay had never worn a dress twice. It was joked that she would rather miss a meal than being caught wearing the same dress twice. She was always late but nevertheless radiant on arriving, feeling as if the rains would stop because her outfit was never seen before. At least, by this observer. I pray thee, would there be a sin more mortal than being seen in the same outfit more than once? Or perhaps, Colay knew the guilt and shame Eve felt when, after having been banished from paradise, Eve grabbed for the nearest leaves to cover her naked self; and in the case of Colay, to cover her already-seen-before outfit.
Everyone too was aware of the boring outfit of the dead – in the case of the female, all lacy gowns covering the dead body from toe up to the neck. Could the outfit be more current and jazzy? With voluptuous ladies like Colay, could more skin be shown, with the cleavage and a plunging neckline? ‘Ay abaw, kon nagabatang ikaw, flat ang boobs mo. Waay it cleavage’, interjected Bebot D. But if the funeral parlors can do a respectable nose job, can it be harder to insert kilos of crumpled The Inquirer and Philippine Star to make gravity-defying mounds out of the sunken boobs? For sure, this procedure would ensure no leaks unlike the boob job done in Gloria Arroyo. And while the usual courtesies during wakes are comments like ‘Ay, daw katulog lang’, could it be too much if somebody comments ‘Ay, daw ga-sunbathing lang’ as one looks down on a voluptuous figure lying in state with tanned shoulders, legs and all inside a coffin cushioned with powder-soft Boracay sand?
Ah, grabe. I am awake already. The jokes could be more pervasive. The wakes could be more fun. But who likes to have wakes? @
Wednesday, August 5, 2009
Of yellow dead leaves and other offerings
Former President Corazon Aquino was laid to rest today. It was a non-working holiday. I decided to start the day with a quick visit to the farm.
It was raining intermittently. It rained hard last night leaving some puddles and broken branches on the streets. PAGASA said typhoon Kiko had returned.
As I drove to the highway, I saw some bouquets of yellow flowers beside the road. I thought parang libing ni Cory. Sa Iloilo ini. But then I saw straight ahead some posts with yellow ribbons tied around them. They were few but they stood out. And yes they were there in honor of Cory Aquino. Who says that only Manila felt the loss? Carwash boys and ordinary sreet vendors gathered and arranged yellow flowers in softdrink bottles to be placed along the road. Petty things from small people, but commendable acts still.
The rains were pouring. Yellow bouquets fell on the pavement beside yellow dead leaves obviously felled by the passing storm. Wet yellow ribbons stuck to the house railings. Yellow torn plastic hang on fences. Some meant as offerings, others were plain dirt. But the Cory occasion blurred the distinction. Indeed, nature and the scum of the earth, too, could mourn with the nation.
Cory's funeral was also felt in Iloilo as shown by the above photos.
I was back home in time to watch the requiem mass on TV. It was solemn and orderly. The subsequent military tribute was worth watching. This was the first death ceremony for a former Philippine president that I had seen. Ferdinand Marcos and Diosdado Macapagal also died during my time. But Marcos was not buried but refrigerated up to today until he gets a state funeral. And Macapagal… well I was somewhere across the globe and I was really not interested.
The funeral cortege left the Manila Cathedral with thousands of people marching with the flat bed truck carrying the flag-draped coffin. It was past 11:30am.
The funeral march and services lasted over 8 hours. And it was worth watching. In the course of the funeral I had eaten a hearty lunch with the kids, some snacks of Skyflakes, and later another hearty dinner with the family. Then I realized that majority of those with the funeral had not yet eaten their lunch. They were drenched and been walking for kilometers. I was so guilty I nearly vomitted.
It was supposedly a private and not a state funeral. But all the trappings of a state funeral were there, excluding a Malacanang wake, a necro program attended by the incumbent President, the Senate President, the Speaker of the House of Representatives, and other government bigwigs. But the absence of these personages especially the incumbent President made Cory’s funeral more memorable and truly for the people, by the people, and of the people.
With a funeral like that, who wouldn’t like to be the one in the coffin? I like to imagine that my funeral would be like Tita Cory’s. I also like to be the son in law of Cory. Watching the TV coverages, the sons in law were regarded as Cory’s royal children even if they could have been raised in less affluent surroundings. I like to be one of the VIPs sitting near the bier especially where the TV cameras were aimed. It would have been a celebration in my impoverished barangay to see one of their own seen on national TV sitting beside those reeking with wealth and power. This feat would make me a celebrity in my barangay worthy to be namedropped, to be taken as a godfather, and to be invited as commencement speaker in the local Mababang Paaralan Ng Aming Barangay. I like to be one of the many who were actually beside the streets of Manila and witnessed history unfolding before their eyes. I like to be one of the soldiers executing with precision all the rituals given to Presidents. I like to be one of the masons in the Manila Memorial Park – that inspite of my humble job I was an important part of the funeral service, as without me the funeral would not be officially ended. And the VIPs could not go home, eat, rest and sleep in the comfort of their beds. I like to be all these.
But I didn’t like to be one of the four honor guards posted beside the coffins atop the flat bed truck. Perhaps, I could stand immobile for more than eight hours. But I was in and out of our comfort room more than 10 times during the length of the TV coverage. And the honor guards could have been inserted with catheters or had worn diapers with their uniform. Whatever way, I didn’t like to have any. I couldn’t imagine what they did after their duty. While others scampered to the nearest food stall, the four honor guards could have ran to the nearest CR. Or the nearest tree.
Astig gid.@
Ga-patad ka sa LOTTO? I-memorize ang numero nga ini....
