I WONDER . . .

I wonder how big my extended family really is. Yesterday, I got to see many of them and apparently, many are still scattered across the archipelago. Oh, and the ones I met were just on my father’s side. Is it just me, or are my relatives really that proficient? Or shall I say, fertile?

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I wonder where my ingrate ex-girlfriend got the nerve to text me and tell me “I miss you.” I already know she’s a callous and insensitive flirt, but her insolence caught me off-guard. Damn, bitch!

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I wonder, then, why on God's green earth did I even text her, too. No, I never really believed the “I miss you” line, but I guess a part of me wanted to get in one of those “fuck-off, leave-me-alone, I’m-better-off-now” rebuttals that are soooo gratifying at times.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I wonder what I want more for Christmas: a girlfriend or a PlayStation 3. I’d love to have both, really. But if I were to choose just one, I think I’ll rather buy myself a spanking PS3. Then again, a lot of crazy things can happen between now and Christmas. For all I know, I might end up with nothing…or everything.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I wonder who in the hell chose our company uniforms. No, I’m not complaining or whining (or maybe I am), but I just think them uniforms stink. I start the week looking like one of those presidential guards escorting the president everywhere, anywhere. I’m just a gun and an earpiece away from being mistaken for a PSG guy. On Wednesdays, we all look like walking pomelos. The ladies, meanwhile, look…never mind.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I wonder, “What the hell do I really want to do with my life now?” I mean, my life’s been going pretty well this past few months (better than what I imagined, actually), but I just think something’s missing. I still need to do something that’ll take my life from good to great. Something like….I don’t know. I wonder what it is.

RANDOM THOUGHTS ON SPORTS

• So the UE Red Warriors again lost the games that mattered, which brings me to one realization: nobody should be surprised that UE lost to La Salle. This is the University of the East Red Warriors people! This is the Chicago Cubs of college ball, a team that keeps on finding ways to lose the games that count. They’ve had players throwing away ball games (can anyone spell B-O-N-B-O-N-C-U-S-T-O-D-I-O?), players throwing the ball away, players throwing bricks, and players choking big time (where in the hell were Mark Borboran and Marcy Arellano?). I just wonder how many of these heartbreaking losses can the UE community take before they all go crazy.
• Manny Pacquiao won over a washed up Marco Antonio Barrerra but he didn’t beat the Mexican senseless the way he did in 2003. Somehow, Pacquiao didn’t look in his element in that fight, which makes me wonder, how much of it has to do with Kyla singing the national anthem instead of Ara Mina? Anyway, better get ready for more Pacquiao overkill—he’ll probably have a new commercial, movie, TV show, and album by the end of the year. He’d probably dip his hand in politics again if he had the chance. Somewhere, Freddie Roach will be gritting his teeth.
• Evander Holyfield is like a hundred years old and he fought for a world championship. That only proves an obvious fact: boxing’s heavyweight division is a joke. I wonder, what in the hell was ABS-CBN thinking when they bought the rights to air this fight? Half the world wouldn’t even watch this fight for free.
• Juan “Baby Bull” Diaz is a punching machine. First, he punched former champion Acelino Freitas into submission. Yesterday, he pummeled former champion Julio Diaz into quitting. If he had an ounce more power, he’d be knocking guys senseless. He called out Manny Pacquiao in his post-fight interview. I hope Manny listens.
• Boxing promoters should seriously consider putting Manny Pacquiao and Juan Diaz in the ring to fight each other. While they’re at it, they should prepare a six-by-six ring because these guys won’t be moving around too much. It’ll be Castillo-Corrales I all over again––punches, punches, punches, and more punches. Damn, that fight has me salivating. For what it’s worth, I’ll bet my money on Juan Diaz.
• My favorite player, Kevin Garnett and his new team looked good in two preseason games last week. Now, if only Rajon Rondo can knock down open elbow jumpers ala Eric Snow circa 2002, I think the Celtics and KG can make some real noise in the playoffs. There’s only one problem: Rondo’s shot looks so horrific that even the late great Red Auerbach would be squirming in his grave if he sees it.
• Arwind Santos is in some serious shit after his wife (the second one, I believe) sued him for bigamy. Actually, I’m not surprised––bigamous pro athletes are a dime dozen these days––but I am quite perplexed at the sheer stupidity of Arwind: He marries girl number one on a Saturday and then marries girl number two four days later, with both marriages well-documented. I mean, what the hell was he thinking? Now I wonder, was it a case of a man torn between two lovers or just a case of a pervert with an itchy dick?
• Alex Crisano has a “strong chance” of playing for the Philippines in the SEA Games come December. Nothing against him, but is he really the best big man available? Here is a guy who hasn’t done anything remotely significant on the basketball court and he’ll probably play for flag and country. I mean, seriously, is Junel Baculi serious? Google Crisano’s name and you’ll probably find more links related to his trysts––sexual and brutal––with Ethel Booba and his fistfights at nightclubs. Somewhere, Ethel Booba’s boobs just got a little heavier.

10 THINGS THAT I WANT TO HAPPEN BEFORE I DIE

1. See my little sister graduate from college. (odds of it happening: 1 in 5)
2. Tour my mom all over Europe for a long vacation––she deserves it. (odds of it happening: 1 in 21.254)
3. Get rich––like really, really, really, really rich. (odds of it happening: 1 in 235)
4. Find my soul-mate. (odds of it happening: 1 in 13,215)
5. Publish a bestselling novel. (odds of it happening: 1 in 250)
6. Buy myself a Ferrari Enzo....or a Porsche Carrera GT…or a Mercedes SLR…or a Hummer. (odds of it happening: 1 in 2,021)
7. Have a girl-girl-guy threesome…or even a girl-girl-girl-guy foursome. (odds of them happening: threesome–1 in 32,545; foursome–1 in 54,455)
8. Have an over-the-top birthday bash at an exclusive club. (odds of it happening: 1 in 85)
9. Beat somebody senseless and not get punished for doing so. (odds of it happening: 1 in 221.123)
10. Skydive and escape without a scratch or a broken bone. (odds of it happening: 1 in 95.5)

MY LITTLE ANGEL

When my baby sister gave me a sweet good night hug and an even sweeter good night kiss, it occurred to me that while I’ve been praying to find my soul-mate, I’ve taken for granted the fact that I’ve been given an angel. And my angel’s name is Miriam Jumaine D. Bolima.

My little, chubby, and lovable angel, Miriam Jumaine D. Bolima

I’m not exactly someone who regrets the things I have done or those I haven’t, but on hindsight, I do feel bad because I’ve given less to my little angel compared to what I’ve given to Jenny, my ex-girlfriend (who, as it turned out, was actually the devil in disguise in my life). Again, on hindsight, giving too much to my ex-girlfriend while giving less to my little angel was the biggest mistake I’ve made in my 23 years of existence––yes, it was an even bigger mistake than falling in love with Jenny or not studying as hard as I should have. If I were to regret something in my life so far, this may be it. The great thing, though, is that I have time to undo this big mistake, and I vow that I will do so.

Beginning today, I’ll pamper my little angel like I’ve never pampered her before. I’ll take her to her favorite fast-foods (KFC, Jollibee, and McDonalds) every time I can; buy her toys, clothes, and school supplies when my paychecks come; and let her play at SM at least twice a month. More important, I will work like crazy just to make sure that my little angel will have the best life can offer. I will be the best big brother that I can possibly be––hook, line, and sinker. Hey, if I could do a plethora of things for my former flame, why can’t I do it for my own little sister, right? So now, I’m gonna do it for her.

I’ve given so much loving to the wrong person and I’ve searched for love from all the wrong people in all the wrong places; what I didn’t realize for so long was that I should be giving my love to my one and only angel––and she’s right at home, always waiting to give me a sweet hug and an even sweeter kiss.

Me and MJ... The cute, little angel with her big brother...

This little girl makes my life absolutely worth living!

THE MAKINGS OF ANOTHER HEARTBREAK?

I’m not exactly a big fan of clichés or hackneyed statements, but if things go on as I want them to, I might have to use one just in case. It’s the “Age doesn’t matter” cliché, which is en vogue, if not mandatory, for couples with big––or in some cases, HUGE––age gaps.

No, I’m not pondering on the “Age doesn’t matter” cliché because I’m into a relationship with a 30-something single mom or a 40-above widow. Not even close. Not now, never ever. I’m pondering on it because of all the people in the world, a 17-year-old girl has made my heart beat again (it’s a cheesy way of putting it, but you get the drift, right?). I’m not head-over-heels in love with her––not just yet––but I have to admit, there’s already a soft spot in my heart for her.


Cai-Cai is only 17...and she has me smitten by her charm...
If only things can work out between us... but that's unlikely

We haven’t gone out once and we haven’t even had a sincere, honest-to-goodness conversation. Frankly, I want both to happen. But the age gap has made me quite uneasy about the whole thing. Cai-Cai is only 17 and I’m 23. Six years may not be much of a difference to some people, but it is for me. I have this sinking feeling that at 17, Cai-Cai is just too young for me. So I’ve had to ask myself this question over and over again: “Is it really true that ‘age doesn’t matter’ or is it just BS?”

I haven’t had any one-on-one, heart-to-heart types of conversation with her because I’ve never really had a chance to do so, but I want to have one, and fast. Honestly, I want to ask her out so we can finally get a chance to have a sincere, near-intimate conversation. I want to know her more, and I want her to know more about me as well. Whatever comes next, I’ll leave it for fate, destiny, or maybe even Cupid to decide.

What scares me most is that I’ve felt this way before. What I feel now for Cai-Cai is exactly the same with what I felt for my ingrate ex-girlfriend when we first became friends (sadly, Jenny and I split up acrimoniously four years later). Problem is, I don’t even know if Cai-Cai considers me her friend, so that in itself is not exactly an encouraging sign. Damn, I’m rumbling and ranting already. My thoughts are drifting because I’ve been thinking of her a lot these past few days.

Right now, the only thing I know for sure is that I’ll ask her out. I know that at the right time and at the right circumstance, I’ll pop that question to her and just hope for the best. I don’t know if she’ll say yes, or if she’d ever want to go out with someone like me, but at the very least, I do know that I’ll try. Besides, clichés, as one of my college buddies said, are clichés for a reason. So I guess there is a legit reason why the “Age doesn’t matter” cliché is, well, a cliché. I’ll just assume that this is the reason: When it comes to love, it is true that age does not matter.

Does it seem that I’m setting myself up for another heartbreak? Yeah, it certainly looks that way, but I can always––if and when I get my heart broken again––console myself by believing the “Hope springs eternal” cliché.