Some random shit

1. I quit smoking 3 years ago. I’m starting to think that may just be the best decision I’ve ever made. 

2. I realized that the closest thing I had to a ‘best friend’ is my dead dog ‘chi-chi’ – a black toy poodle who served us for 119 dog years. 

3. I am an irate customer – mainly because of what I do for a living and not because I’m a natural born douche.

4. Jason Bourne is my ‘man crush’. 

5. If The Voice PH decides to change the coaches – I am nominating: Gary Valenciano, Ely Buendia, April Boy Regino and Andrew E to replace either Bamboo or Apol De Ap. Why April Boy? Because lets face it – this guy knows his shit. 

6. No, I did not considered axing Sarah G. off the show. Why? Because she’s so fucking adorable. 

7. I plan on starting a new hobby. Long distance biking. My only fear is that I might succumb to the call of all the 24 hour Bulalohan scattered around provinces (especially down South) and defeats the purpose of me biking. 

8. Funny quote from my daughter when I told her to do something while she was in a foul mood:

Me: ‘Love, can you please tie your shoe laces and stop running with that stick.’ 

Daughter: ‘Why do you keep asking me to do stuff Daaaad?! Are you the president of me?! 

9. The more I think about it, the more I realize that Walking Dead is one hell of an overrated TV series. 

10. Nothing beats wrapping bacon around something. Chicken wrapped in bacon. Hotdogs wrapped in bacon. Bacon wrapped in more bacon. Bacon is KING. 

11. Message to Jollibee and McDonald’s: When I’m ordering 2 pieces of Fried Chicken, I earned the right to ask for not one, not two, but THREE cups of gravy. When I’m ordering LARGE fries – don’t even dare hand me one sachet of ketchup because I will give you that look reserved for pedophiles. 



So yesterday – a day which will live in infamy – typhoon ‘Glenda’ fucked the country up so bad, we didn’t even know what hit us. Well, we did actually. I just like using that phrase. Anyway, that typhoon shit was subtle as compared to ‘Yolanda’ but it still messed up a lot of families and when I say a lot, I mean a SHITLOAD of parents losing their minds altogether saying ‘Mga anak! Katapusan na!!’ (To which some pilosopong anak will reply ‘Nay akinse pa lang’). 

I always brag to any soul who is willing to listen that I CAN SURVIVE ANY APOCALYPTIC SHIT that you can ever imagine. Volcano eruption, tsunami’s, earthquakes, world war III – fuck, even chimpanzees taking over the world. I say that with a straight face because I am a survivor. A lifer. Someone who can live on half a can of liver spread for the next 15 days and live to tell about it. I don’t complain when I’m faced with obstacles. I take the bull by the horns. 

Yesterday tested the mettle of a lot of Filipinos. Including me. You see, I live on the 21st floor and when Typhoon Glenda decided to pass by Metro Manila – the entire city was exposed. The weaknesses. The cracks in the system. The weak lamp posts. The weak electrical posts. All hell broke loose and I was high up there on the 21st floor – with no electricity – no water – no elevator – no wifi – needing to take a huge dump and the flush ain’t doing shit. Man, I was a fish out of water. It went on for 38 hours and I can hear my dumbass neighbors already broken and ready to commit suicide and shit like that – but not me. No sir. I’m one resilient motherfucker. 

But you know what I learned after all this blackout bullshit?

I need to give my old man a call and check up on him more often. 


I’m pretty sure I will get a lot of negative reactions (if I even have an audience) with this topic.

There is no such thing as someone who’s got no sense of direction.

I’ll tell you why its bullshit

As long as you have a brain in that skull of yours – you can think. As long as you can think, you can interpret words. As long as you can interpret words – you can understand. As long you can understand your situation, you can ASK for directions. Those who does not have a ‘sense of direction’ are not trying hard enough to find their way.

I mean, are you seriously telling me that if I put a man who lived all his life in the Himalayas and have him find one specific burger chain in the busiest streets of Tokyo – he won’t be able to find it? It only takes an ounce of courage to ASK for some fucking DIRECTIONS.

In my view, the only people who can be rightfully considered as ‘missing’ or ‘lost’ are those with mental issues and those who (bless their souls) were kidnapped or murdered (or na-Blair Witch Project).

But if you think you don’t have any sense of direction and you can’t find your way from point A to point B regardless if its 10 hectares of thick trees and flying monkeys or just a jeepney ride away – you’re not really ‘LOST’.

You’re just not doing enough to be found.

Ape Teaches: Driving with a MANUAL transmission

I’ve been blogging since 2009 and I’ve come to realize that I have not been a very good contributor. In the sense that I have not shared practical knowledge to my readers – which to me is a mark of a lousy blogger.

Well then, since I am in the mood today, let me teach you guys one of the most important skill one needs to have to survive in the urban jungle. No, this is not about learning how to suck up to your boss to get a promotion.

Its time you learn how to drive a manual transmission automobile because your gut puking – toilet hugging – drunk friend who owns a manual should not be allowed to go home on his own and murder somebody on the road.

*disclaimer* I am not a licensed instructor and I have no plans of being one – so if you can, please practice first and make sure you are in an open space like a parking lot or a cemetery for Christ’ sake.

1. Disengaged the hand brake.

2. Press clutch (left foot) and brake (right foot) and move the stick to NEUTRAL.


3. Start the car. Put it on 1st gear (primera) with your left foot still pressed on the clutch pedal.

4. Move your (right foot) off the brake and onto the gas pedal – while you start releasing the clutch with your (left foot). Keep pressing (lightly) on the gas pedal until you hear / feel the gears ‘bite’ and vehicle slowly moving forward.

5. When you’re already moving at a steady pace, you can release the clutch completely. Pag tumirik ka – wag sumimangot at wag mag panic – just start again from the beginning.

6. If there’s a baby on the road and you need to stop – calmly press down the clutch and brake at the same time. To move forward, repeat steps 1-4. You will experience stalling and that is absolutely fine. Laugh at yourself  but never lose confidence. Nothing is more dangerous on the road than a driver that is hesitant and lacks confidence.

Once you’re able to get the car moving from zero to 1st gear – you’ve pretty much nailed a huge chunk of this whole driving thingy majiggy.

7. So now you want to move faster huh? It’s called ‘upshifting’ and this is probably the easiest part of the whole process. Take your (right foot) off the gas pedal and – in one synchronized motion – press the clutch all the way down with your (left foot) and move gear shifter to the next gear.

8. Release the clutch while simultaneously pressing down the gas pedal with your (right foot) until your (left foot) is completely off the clutch.

9. Ok slick rick, you are doing a great job and now its time to learn how to come to a FULL STOP. Based on experience, it is always advisable to press on the clutch and shift to NEUTRAL, then remove your foot from the clutch pedal which will coast to a stop – apply brakes as needed.

Tandaan: when you are parking a manual transmission car ALWAYS USE YOUR EMERGENCY BRAKE. Flat surface or sloping. Leave the car on 1st gear and if you’re pointing downhill – turn your front wheels so just in case – for some demonic reason – your car starts rolling, it will roll into the sidewalk.

That’s pretty much it. Everything else you need to know will be through hours of actual driving. Experience is key.

You’re welcome.


Looks like my buddy Mark Escover (yes, I’m name dropping your ass on here) will make me 3,000 bucks richer because he went with the Miami Heat. Dude, the Spurs leads the series 2-1 as I type this and based on NBA Finals history, very few teams have climbed back from a 2-1 deficit and go on to win the championship.

Aside from the fact that Duncan, Parker and Ginobili are cyborgs.


Beard problems

I’m trying to grow a full beard. Like Zach Galifianakis type of beard. But its next to impossible according to my genes. I don’t know how I’m gonna pull it off. Some say I should keep on shaving it, others recommend that I DONT shave. Which makes sense if I’m trying to grow a beard. Others even gave crazy suggestions like using my own semen as shaving cream or some fucking weird shit like that.


In any case. I’m at the point right now where my moustache and whatever population of facial hair I have scattered around my chin and face are almost overlapping and I think 3 more weeks of not shaving will make me look like a murderer already.

Am I asking too much?

Murphy’s Law

My phone got stolen last Saturday.

A day which will live in infamy.

Before you put judgement on me, lets talk about it first.

I was a man on a mission last Saturday. In spite having just an hour of sleep after coming home from working night shift  – I had to drag myself back to my old apartment that morning to meet with a buyer of an old bed that I have no interest in keeping. So I had help out in loading that shit up on their truck and send them off. I envisioned them calling me back after 2 days once they realized that the bed they bought is not ‘hump-proof’.

I came back to my new apartment to grab some lunch, rest for a while and catch a nap or two. I’m like your good ‘ol grandpa. I love taking naps. Anywhere, anytime.

I decided to get the rest of my shit from the old apartment to the new one at around 10pm, hoping that the elevator queue at the lobby have already chilled out. It didn’t. Anyway, I went there and asked help from some of the ‘padyak boys’ to help me load my stuff on to the truck I rented. Two padyak boys gladly helped out (with the expectations that I’m going to pay them once we’re done). Fine. That’s a given.

So we loaded stuff onto the truck for about an hour, and since I am a gentleman and a jolly good fella – I decided to give them a break and bought energy drinks for everyone…even the douchey truck driver who wasn’t really helping out in loading the stuff. You can’t go wrong with COBRA energy drink. (endorsement deal please).

After a short break, we got back to work. I got tired of carrying my wallet and IPhone 4S around me so I placed them inside one of the cabinets that I’m also selling. I casually lay down my phone and wallet there – trusting that after all the kindness I’ve shown to the boys who were helping me out – no one would even think about stealing my shit.

On our way to the new condo, I was already thinking about where I put my phone. I knew I placed it safely inside my old cabinet but I was also thinking that maybe I put it on one of the backpacks that was loaded. I was dazed and confused with all the stuff that’s going on. The moving. Lack of sleep. Tired. Hungry. I just wanted this logistical nightmare to be over.

Once done, I paid them and send them off. I wanted them out of my sight because I can’t concentrate on finding my phone. After checking all my stuff and actually going back to the old apartment to check the cabinet where I last placed it – IT WAS NOT THERE. Fuck. My heart was already pounding at that point. Almost all of my shit are on that phone. This is not the first time I lost something that important – I lost my Nokia 3310 when I was 19 years old but I just laughed it off. But this one STINGS because I had important stuff in my daily adult life wired up to that lil fucker. So it was, to say the least, heartbreaking.

How did I know that it was them who took it?

Well, who else? There are only 4 people there. Me, the (2) padyak boys and the truck driver. I have ruled out the possibility that it was the driver because he never went inside the apartment – he was just standing outside, watching us while smoking his lungs out. The padyak boys however, they were people I just met minutes before we started hauling my stuff. I didn’t even asked for their names. I mean, what could go wrong right? We’re just loading some stupid stuff. Why would I bother to do a full body frisk before and after we’re done? It’s like telling them ‘hey man, I really need your help but I don’t trust your face, so please bear with me as I conduct a full body search on you later when we’re done’.  

I had the phone blocked and got myself a temporary phone so I can still use my post-paid plan – but maaaaan, this will really hurt me in every little way imaginable.

I already miss whipping out my phone to play Plants vs. Zombies whenever I feel like it.

New apartment, New problems

We recently moved into a new apartment and I have a very good feeling about the unit that we got. But there are some pressing concerns that I want to share (more importantly, document here for future reference) about the building itself. By the way, I said ‘new’ in the sense that we just moved in – but the building is, for lack of a better term, pretty fucked up.

Yes, of course we checked the place out before shaking hands and signing the dotted line. But lets face it – most issues will come up about a week or two after you’ve moved in. I’m in that phase now and so far, here’s what I’ve experienced.

1. Our unit is on the 21st floor. It is not humanly possible to go up or down to and from our unit without using the elevator. Problem is – there is only ONE GODDAMN ELEVATOR working in that building for around 800 people. The other elevator has not been operational – wait for it…wait for iiiiit – since 2005.  Not to mention that it can only carry up to a maximum of SIX passengers (that includes the damn elevator boy). It is such a huge problem that I once took a cab home and when the driver found out that I live in that building – he knew about the long queue at the lobby and he just gave me that look like I just got a death penalty verdict.

2. The building was never turned over properly by the developers, hence leaving a bunch of stuff fucked up as it is. Cracked walls and ceilings. Stinky elevators. Stinky elevator boy. Unfinished paint jobs. Unruly neighbors. Everything is like a fucking nightmare the moment I step out of our unit. Did I mentioned that this building is owned by Sharon Cuneta? Yes.

3. The neighborhood that surrounds the building is also a sight to be seen – if you are the son of Satan and you enjoy staring at pictures of dogs defecating. Now, I’m not a rich guy – so I have nothing against the less fortunate – but I’m a hardworking motherfucker so it annoys the shit out of me to see a bunch of grown men with no shirt on, just sitting around the block. Chatting. Waiting for nothing. Perhaps ‘scheming’ on how to rob the next person that walks in with a gold Rolex watch. They’re not poor because they’re ‘less fortunate’ or because they made some poor choices in life – – they’re poor because they are choose to be goddamn lazy.

There’s nothing else to do but to live and adapt to the situation…for the next 12 months at least. I’m pretty darn sure I’ll be updating this post from time to time.

Alright, I’m out. The elevator’s finally here.

Nanny Problems

Since 2008, when I first laid eyes on my beautiful daughter, I’ve employed (and lost) over twenty nanny’s. That’s an average of about 3 different people looking over my daughter each year when I have to take care of some business (read: making myself a chicken sandwich). Either I cut my losses and let go of a clear cut slacker or they just wanted to leave for whatever bullshit reasons their husbands are feeding them.

If you knew me since ’08, you can attest to the fact that I am a hands on father to my child. Thanks to the fact that I love her to death and 3-4 hours of interrupted sleep, plus an average of 2 bottles of Cobra energy drink every day – I get to take care of my child on my own terms and nobody can say shit about it. Not even diabetes.

Most parents I know depend heavily on their ‘yayas’ to take care of the kids while they are out working. That’s not the case in my ex- wife’s household. We take pride in being able to take care of her as much as possible.

So I don’t really fucking understand why nannys even find a reason to slack off. I pay them well, we treat them with respect, we give them time offs every week and we take the bulk of the duties off their shoulders as much as possible when we’re around. So why???!

With the constant changing of culture in our society. I can’t help but come up with my own theories as to why I keep losing them.

1. They are too distracted. Unlimited call/text. Internet. Facebook. What have you’s.

2. They took the job half-baked. They don’t really want it – they are not in it for the long haul. They just needed to pay some bills or some shit like that.

3. Boyfriends and husbands. Oh God. The numero uno excuse. They’ll go on and tell you that their husbands asked them to come back home because no one’s looking out for their kids and shit. I mean, from one parent to another – when you hear that – what can you do?

I don’t know, I guess I’m just pissed off because I wanted my child to grow up with just ONE nanny. Just like the old days. Just like Sharon Cuneta. Is that too much to ask?

‘Masarap kumain eh.’

Three years ago, I weighed 185 lbs.

As I type this entry with my fat, king kong fingers – I’m closing in on the 200 lb mark.

To make things worse, I’m only 5 foot 6 inches tall.

That’s a hell lot of meat to carry.

What the fuck is going on?! I play competitive basketball every Sunday. I sweat bullets just by sitting in a corner with no fan on.

I’m becoming ‘Dudut Jaworski’ faster than I can imagine.

SO…do I want to let this thing take its course and just let myself go? Or do I fight this shit and stop consuming food like a sumo wrestler. I have to make a choice and I will make that choice right after I finish up this Cheetos Jalapeño smiling in front of me.