Saturday, October 16, 2004

The number of the day is seven.

kuya mark gave me a testimonial too after i wrote him one yesterday. hahaha... friendly friends in church! :D but that's not what i wanted to write about.

The number of the day is seven.

Let me tell you why in a while. First, I'll tell you how awful my day started. I got up at about 5:30. I was ready by quarter to six. Just then, I remembered that I hadn't called Carlo to wake him up. About half an hour later, I was still at home, waiting impatiently. I just wanted to bash in his head. I was so weary of waiting that I went outside to perhaps meet him but after about five minutes of standing there like a fool (even though he said he left tem minutes ago), he still wasn't there. When we did get to aero, the lady didn't charge us entrance anymore since there were only fifteen minutes left -- fifteen minutes of cooling down when I didn't even break a sweat. It's sooooo annoying. I resolved to never wait for him again. Don't guys usually take five minutes to get ready? I mean, I thought my grooming time was a bit excessive but when you go running at six in the morning, people don't expect you to be oil-free. They won't check out your hair or your clothes. They expect you to be there, running, giving it at least a little bit of effort.

What was more annoying was he wasn't the least bit remorseful. We just walked in silence without uttering a word to one another. We jogged, we walked, we ran... what I couldn't stand was when I was tired, he would slow down, too. Your workout should be tailored to your personal capabilities and limitations. I wanted to leave him but he was much faster than me. Half the time, I just wanted to go home. I'm not as tough as I expected though since I stuck around anyway. After a few laps, I decided to drink juice since I was sweating like a hog. (do hogs sweat?) I was wearing a blue jacket to sweat more. We were walking while drinking and he was doing small talk. He talked about stupid things until we reached the roller skating rink. I was in a pretty bad mood so when he said he wanted to go skating, I went along. Never in a million years would I have tried that had I been sane or even remotely aware of what I was getting into. I mean, they make it look so easy in the movies, I was almost positively sure that it couldn't be THAT hard. Well, it wasn't THAT hard, it was THIS FUCKING HARD. I fell hard on my ass seven times. SEVEN TIMES! That's seven times too many. It's not the cutesy-pootsy fall that you see on TV when they're holding on to each other and she falls with utmost grace. No, this is tactless, poise-less, shameless, and unadulterated sitting-down-while-in-mid-air-then-finally-falling-on-your-stupid-fat-ass kind of falling. I was airborne for half the time! I couldn't just pick up and leave since I only had P20 and Carlo lent me the money to get in so it was really embarrassing if I just picked up and left, right? We had to stay for an hour, much to the delight of the not so innocent bystanders. At first, I could really get it. I would skate for a while, wobble, and then skate again. Plus, there was the occasional fall that knocked the wind out of me. And as if things couldn't get worse, two prepubescent girls (one was about 5 and the other 8) were there, skating (one was even rollerblading) as if it was the easiest thing. One of them even said "Kuya, mas magaling pa yung kapatid kong baby pa kaysa sa'yo!" (My baby sibling can do better than that!) I wanted to die. For P50 (per hour), I gave up my pride and dignity. For roughly $1, you can buy my pride. It was soooooo annoying.

So while skating, things between me and Carlo were starting to be better. We talked and I even forgot that he made me wait so long. Right after, I said "let's run all the way to the food plaza and then walk the rest home" That was the last I saw of him. I ran and he wasn't there. I'm still not sure if he got home aight or if the old gay matrona who was psssst-ing me is Sodomizing him now. I sure hope not.

So folks, remember the number of the day. 7. 7 times. I fell on my ass 7 times. 7 times too many. 7 times that I will never have back. Now if you'll excuse me, I think I know of a certain tailbone who needs icing. Does anyone know the symptoms of a sprained tailbone? OW! JEEZ!!! uuuuughhhh...