There was a keg and rock bands, but it was nothing like Old School

It’s a good thing I decided to wear a trendy blue top instead of the sexy, black tank top I originally had in mind.

It’s a bad thing I didn’t wear comfy sneakers instead of the black platform sandals that have graced the dance floor of parties since my sophomore year of high school.

But although things didn’t turn out the way I expected it to be, I actually sort of had a good time tonight. (Emphasis on the “sort of”.)

Tonight, the last Oktoberfest party was held at the parking lot of Megamall (the biggest mall in the Philippines). Because my blockmate Tina’s dad works for San Miguel (the beer company that sponsored the whole thing), she was able to get me and some people from school tickets to the VIP section of the party.

I almost fainted with joy when Tina told me that Disturbingly Beautiful would be going tonight–without his girlfriend. =D At long last! An opportunity for me to make him see me for the woman I really am through the use of my feminine charm and wit!

But because I’m a stupid moron, I couldn’t even look him in the eye when we all met up outside the comic book store in the mall. Gawd. He was so fucking handsome. A grunged-down god straight down from Mt. Olympus. And I was wrong about the color of his eyes; from afar, they look like they’re gray but when you look up close you can see that they’re really green. Eventually I managed to pretend that I don’t like him at all, and was able exchange a couple of sentences with him. I was hoping I could bond with him during the party itself, but when we entered the parking lot the crowd separated us from each other. Later on I learned that he and his friend decided decided to go home; dealing with the crowd wasn’t worth a few cups of beer. Awww. And I was hoping I could get pictures of us too.

Though we had a really great time at the mall, things started going downhill when we went to the party itself. The main problem was the crowd. I anticipated that 80% of the people would be composed of jologs because of the free entrance, and at first I didn’t mind because I thought there would be a separate place where those with VIP tickets could stay. But to my horror, there wasn’t any–just a VIP entrance! On the bright side, however, we were able to get a table. I made a new friend, this guy from school called Tzi-tzi who is actually a really good friend of Tina. And best of all–we VIP people had free food! =D

Tina, her English blockmate Nica, and I left our table to get ahold of the free food we were entitled to. Tzi-tzi wasn’t hungry and offered to watch our tables and our tiny little handbags. So that we wouldn’t get separated from each other, we decided to hold hands while making our way through the slithering mass of baggy shorts and Fubu. Now, I’m going to be honest here and say that the experience wasn’t very fun. The guys were all sweaty, shirtless, and leering and staring at us girls as we pushed our way past them–you get the picture. It took us a very long while, but we eventually ended up at Tina’s dad’s table, and to my delight he offered us barbecue, which I gratefully devoured. Half of the first stick I had was composed of fat. I sucked at the juices and put the stick on this plate where some other leftover sticks of barbecue were placed. Then I reached for my second one.

Just as I did that, this very popular rock band called Parokya Ni Edgar came onstage. Everyone–including I–started cheering wildly. This was my first time to see Parokya Ni Edgar live and I had no plans of missing out on this one. Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to enjoy their music because when they began playing, the crowd grew really rowdy and dangerous. With widened eyes, I watched in silent horror as the people near us threw their cups of beer in the air. I screamed my girly eww-there’s-a-cockroach scream when some of the beer landed on my hair and soiled my top. Then the crowd surrounding us started to push against our chairs in order to get a better view of the band. Since they were pushing so hard we had no choice but to abandon our table (and our food!). Since there was obviously no other reason for us to stay, what with the tipsy people around us and all, we decided to leave the party. As we walked away, I saw this jologs guy approach our table. “Look, it’s food!” he exclaimed, reaching for one of the barbecue sticks. His friends followed suit and in spite of the circumstances, I smiled. I hope they ate the stick with my spit all over the fat.

Getting out of there was a nightmare. All the sweaty people pushing and squishing me! At one point I almost let go of Nica’s hand because the drunk, partying crowd made moving forward increasingly difficult. Eventually we managed to get out in one piece. Thank God. Back at the table, Tzi-tzi was having problems of his own. Oh God. I feel really guilty for letting him stay alone at our table; I don’t think our presence could have prevented that from happening, but still. I feel a little responsible just the same. I hope his legs heal soon.

I got home an hour later after coffee with Tina and her dad. I had a headache, my feet were sore, and my clothes and hair smelled like cigarettes and beer. But an Advil relieved me from the pain and I now smell like vanilla and baby shampoo. I feel sad that the night ended in a really bad way. But when I look at the neoprints Tina and I had taken an hour before we went to the party, I think it wasn’t such a bad day after all.

Remembering friends who went in and out of my life

Friendster really is something. Today I found a long-lost grade school friend of mine through my friend’s Friendster page. *sigh* We only got to know each other when I was in sixth grade and she was in seventh grade. Both of us would be moving to new schools the following year–she to a coed school in Quezon City and me to CSR Makati. She was very hyper, funny, slightly rebellious, very outgoing girl. A lot of fun to be with. We wrote each other a few letters when the school year ended (I still have her letters with me) and then for some reason, we lost touch.

I instantly recognized her because she has a very unusual name, and aside from the really cool pair of glasses she now wears, she still looks the same. Her whole pop-culture-sucks and I-don’t-give-a-shit-about-what-people-think attitude doesn’t seem to have changed either. I bet If we went to the same school or kept in touch throughout high school, we’d have been really great friends. I sent her this really dorky message asking if she remembered me and if maybe we could hang out sometime. Even though I have this knack for recognizing the faces of people I haven’t seen in years, I never really know what to say to them. I mean, what do you say to a girl you haven’t seen or spoken to since the sixth or seventh grade?

After I sent her the message, I looked at her page again and kicked myself for being a stupid moron because I failed to see that she now lives in Mexico. Funny; I had no idea that she’s half-Mexican. No wonder her facial features stood out among all the other girls at school. Anyway, I felt a little sad after that. Even though we haven’t spoken in years, her being oceans away from the Philippines makes me feel like I’ve lost a really good friend. Among all the friends I have made and lost, it’s my friends from my grade school and childhood that I miss the most. I probably won’t feel this loneliness when I lose touch with my high school friends. There’s just something about the friends you made when you were a kid–they’re really, truly special. I think the innocence children possess make the bond they form with their friends stronger and more genuine than the friends they make when they grow older.

I miss my childhood. I miss my childhood friends. *sigh*

Bonding with myself

I woke up to an empty house late this morning. My dad was at work, my mom was somewhere doing errands, and my sister was at school. There was no car, so I thought I would be stuck at home all day. Which depressed me because there’s nothing worse than an empty day ahead of you and you not knowing what you’re going to do with it. Half an hour later, my mom gave me a call and saved me from ultimate boredom. “I’m coming home at noon. Get dressed, you’re going shopping,” she ordered. Apparently, she was a little worried that I was spending my many long hours home alone having phone sex with my boyfriend. I guess she’d rather that I go to the mall and spend money on clothes than do impure things with a boy I have yet to lay eyes on. Not that I minded much; I needed to buy some new clothes for school. I skipped merrily to my closet to put together the right shopping outfit.

Then it hit me. I’m going shopping….alone? My mom couldn’t come with me because she had a doctor’s appointment. I had a few shopping buddies in mind but they live too far away and most likely won’t make it to Makati at such a short notice. I almost called my best friend, but changed my mind. I’ve never gone shopping alone before, and you know how there’s always a first time for everything. It’ll be an adventure and besides, going to a public place by myself for a couple of hours won’t automatically make me a social outcast or something.

My mom dropped me off at Greenbelt 3 so I could have a pedicure at Fix Salon. Thirty minutes later she SMSed me to let me know that she already reached the doctor’s office. I SMSed back and told her I just purchased a pair of white Tretorns.

For some reason I have difficulty finding clothes I like whenever I have money. But when I’m broke I’m like, “I want this, this, and this…if only I had some cash! If only I could use this lovely credit card in my wallet that’s turning green from disuse!” Today, choosing the right clothes for school took me ages. Suddenly, every store in the mall seems to cater to either high school kids or working adults only. Everything looked too trendy or too formal and office-y. What about the people in between, the college students? Where do we get our clothes? Eventually I bought two tops in seperate stores that were cute and casual enough for school, but a little boring for the mall or gimmicks with friends.

Two hours later, my dysmenorrhea hit me and I had this awful urge to just sit in a corner somewhere and stay there till the pain goes away. But who wants to sit in dark corners at Glorietta where there are smokers and “gangstas” lurking nearby, waiting for a fight or a chance to show off how macho they are? My mom wouldn’t be picking me up until around four or five, so I decided to watch a movie instead. I picked Freaky Friday because I’ve seen most of the movies that were playing and besides, it had started ten minutes ago. As I made my way inside the dark cinema, it occurred to me that this would be my first time to watch a movie alone. Uh-oh. I hope I won’t end up sitting next to a pervert with a hard-on or something. Just to make sure, I sat near the front–perverts can’t wank off with the screen illuminating them like a lamp. Not that I minded, because my favorite seats are either on the third or fourth row from the screen. Nobody ever likes to sit there, and I can never understand why because the screen is just so huge and awesome. Freaky Friday was really good; I expected it to be corny, unrealistic, and stupid, like most teen chick flicks. But the humor was good, Lindsay Lohan and Jamie Lee Curtis were excellent actors, and I am downloading the soundtrack tonight.

My mom was still at the doctor’s when the movie was over. Apparently the doctor’s secretary forgot to record her appointment, so she had to wait in line along with thirty other people whose appointments were probably unrecorded as well. So I resumed shopping and purchased a preppy-looking top with the last of my cash. I came upon a stall that sold cute ankle socks and after counting my money, I realized that I had enough for one pair. w00t! When my euphoria wore off, I realized that I wanted to go home but I couldn’t because my mom’s turn hasn’t come yet. Broke, tired, and bored, I walked aimlessly around the mall for about an hour and a half until my mom finally came to pick me up.

Well. That wasn’t so bad. Though waiting for my ride kind of sucked, I realized that going shopping by yourself isn’t the boring, lonely ordeal I thought it would be. In fact, I can actually recommend it. I don’t mind shopping with my girlfriends because I like hearing their opinions on the clothes I try on. But on the other hand, shopping alone can be less of a hassle because you don’t have to spend an eternity outside the dressing room, waiting for your friend to decide if she’s going to get that skirt or not. I guess it pretty much depends on your mood. Next time I go shopping, I think I’ll go with my mom or a friend. I got kind of tired hearing myself think all afternoon.