The Badly Written Sitcom

      It started out as a simple weekend. All I was supposed to do was get off work, get my copy of Infinite Crisis number 4, pick up the Clerks Animated Series DVDs I ordered, go home and read, then sleep. That’s it. That was the plan. See, that is why I never make plans.

      After scouring the malls and failing to find my comic, I got a phone call from my high school friend, Carlo (he’s been mentioned once or twice in these posts), one of the two people I will be watching Raw with next month.  His message? Mick Foley is in Manila. Mick Foley, the hardcore legend, was in a mall very nearby the one I was in at the time of the said phone call. Mick Foley, the schizophrenic savage who introduced the flaming barbed wire 2×4 to Triple H’s head on top of the Hell in a Cell in 2000 was here. I had to see that.

       So I hopped on a cab to SM Megamall, dragging the girlfriend along on another one of my geekventures. I got my comic book there, as well as seeing Mrs Foley’s baby boy along with Mr. Socko! Of course, Carlo and I, we weren’t satisfied with just being smack dab in the middle of the unwashed masses who wouldn’t know the difference between a T-bone suplex from a T-bone steak. So after getting sick of people chanting "Foley!" and "Cena!" in the same breath (don’t get me started on how wrong that whole scenario was) we went to Gateway mall for Foley’s next appearance on that same day.

     We were like giddy little girls who wanted to fuck a rock star.

     We reached Gateway Mall, and much to our disapointment, the appearance was strictly invitational. That blew. That blew a whole freakin lot.

     So, like losers, we settled. We got to see Foley anyway, and I personally drowned my disappointment by getting a copy of The OMAC Project TPB (God, that bookstore has all the good stuff. Too bad it’s in a crappy location.), and having a dinner of pure cholesterol plus that 5 cheese pizza Pizza Hut makes so well. We were prepared to go home, not completely victorious but satisfied. On our way to that bridgeway that connects those malls to the MRT, Carlo suddenly froze, speechless (I was babbling about something concerning Batman I think). With is mouth gaped he managed the words "Puta, si Foley." There he was, followed by a long line of avid, drooling, most likely ignorant fans, Mick f’n Foley was right in front of us, no obstructions, no hindrances. If I had panties I would have hurled them at his face.

     As he was getting on an escalator I walked towards one of my heroes and calmly said, "Mick, you rock." To which he replied (albeit impassively) "No, YOU rock."

      Oh. My. God. Multiple orgasms. (Too many sexual references already, you think?)

      Mick Foley said I rock. Shit!

      Perfect moment, perfect day. Nothing, NOTHING, could ruin that.

      Then I found out he appeared on that disgsting noontime show. Ugh.      

(No central theme this time, just me ranting…again.)

     I got ran over on Christmas, got pretty much dumped the day before New Year’s, by the time I reached 24 years old in the first week of January, I was surprised I was still breathing.

      It’s a tired old story, me getting a heart attack at 21, which was also within the first third of the first month, two or three years ago. A couple of days ago, my heart began making it’s presense felt again. Another impending attack?

      Maybe it was just the fatigue of getting drunk everyday, but who can blame me? I had to celebrate being a year older in some way. Anyhoo, this string of health problems is putting my employment at risk. (Not that I mind being unemployed, mind you… been there and loved it. But getting paid for sitting on my ass and getting smashed at every opportunity? It’s the closest thing to college I could ever have again.) 

      My friend Edverlyn has been bitching about unconditional love. Girl, there aint such a thing these days. Love and lovers have lowered their standards. Sacrifice in the name of love? No more. It’s the new millenium, everything is disposable.The only acts carried out in the name of love are only done if it’s convenient or beneficial for one’s self. It’s better to have no expectations at all. I apologize if I’m not as optimistic about it as you expected. Having a hard time with trust these days.

       Hopefully, I still have my job at the end of the day. That’s all folks…