PREVIOUSLY ON “MAN OVERBOARD”: Coco and Bim go to a wrestling show and make out like a couple of little girl-gays.
Fast-forward to five and a half months later, we find Coco sitting home alone on a Sunday morning while taking a break from unclogging the bathroom sink, and under the influence of over-the-counter medication as he enters Day Four of waging war against the flu.
Pretty pathetic, if you ask me. But given the circumstances, I’m still smiling from ear to ear. If you knew why, you’d probably smile along. Do you want to know why? Because I wouldn’t mind telling you why.
So do you want to? No? Seriously? I’ll pay you!
For one thing, I finally got myself a car. It’s a second-hand dark red M/T 2.0 ’91 Toyota Corona that came with fairly new tires, battery, and timing belt. A/C was okay but then it went on the fritz so I had to have it fixed this morning. It’s got a radio that works and a cassette player that doesn’t. It has an alarm system and a heavy, somewhat-squeaky clutch, which I kind of like because I drove a Mitsubishi Adventure for a couple of years back in college and an L200 pickup in 2007. So I’m definitely used to giving my left foot a workout.
I still haven’t come up with a name for it but I’m not sure if anything could top “Fernando,” my previous car’ name.
I spent what’s left of my life savings to get this car and even loaned money from my sister to get it so I hope it’s worth it. I mean, I never owed anybody any money, ever. Sure, I may have borrowed fifties several times back in the day so I could get home from school every time I miscalculated my daily budget (i.e. those times when I treated my special lady to not one, but TWO soft tacos for lunch), but that’s it.
I’ve also been seeing my friends a lot lately. Now that I’ve got myself a motor vehicle, I could find even more time with them than before.
Though, to address the elephant in the room (the monkey in the fridge, the snake on the plane, the cheetah in the bank, whatever), yes, I ended a six-year on-and-off relationship back in October.
But like a motherfucking Phoenix, I set a lot of stuff ablaze and rose from the ashes. Unlike a motherfucking Phoenix however, I wiped my slate clean and did plenty of sweeping. (Fun fact: Pheonices tend to leave a bit of a mess after every fiery emergence as they lack opposable thumbs which prevent them from holding contraptions that are used for tidying up. Now you know.)
And the best thing about my life since my last documented adventure? A girl named Angel. No offense to any of my exes, they were all pretty, but GOD-DAMN, I have not seen anything more beautiful in my entire life.
This one takes the cake, baked it to begin with, and eats it too. And she’s now officially with me: some scrawny, talentless, presently-broke douchebag who has seriously been more-than-once referred to as an emotional retard.
Again, no offense to my exes, but I’m just not used to getting “the” girl. When I showed her photo to some of my friends, I got high fives.
When we met with some TMB folk last month and introduced her to them, I got high fives. I didn’t get simple, backdoor high fives, like while she’s in the restroom or something, but blatant high fives IN FRONT OF HER FACE. To quote Bim: “Angel, I know I just met you, but Coco… (raises him palm and preps for what could be the high five of the year).”
Hell, even my Mom, MY MOM, gave me a high five after meeting her.
And how did we get started? This girl asked me out first. Do you know how insane that is? I honestly do not know what in the hell I did to deserve this.
Anyway, I know all of this sounds awful tacky. It’s just that every time I get on here and write, I’m either whining or making jokes about the Pope and I simply wanted to do something different this time around.
So that’s what’s been going on under my patch of the sky. Also, I’m not really paying you for reading along. Go away.
The show started fairly late, which was odd, because the last two shows we attended back in 2006 commenced on the dot. Also, the house was not full. I was thinking only 85% of the seats were taken, which was also peculiar, seeing as this was a one night only gig. The 2006 shows we attended were packed to the rafters.
Anyway, Justin Roberts comes out and welcomes us to the show.
Morrison comes out first to a major pop. Some guy is holding up an “I am a JoMosexual” sign. Benjamin comes out to a chorus of boos as expected, and the show gets going. Match starts off slow with the two of them performing at least 87 variations of the headlock on each other. Action picks up with your usual stuff from these two: springboard shin kick and tilt-a-whirl DDT from Morrison, thrust kick to the face and Samoan drop from Benjamin, and lots of monkey-like jumping from both. Morrison finishes off with arguably the second-best finisher in the business (next to the Canadian Destroyer), Starship Pain.
What’s really cool is that after the match, even Benjamin received an ovation on his way out. This happens throughout the night, for both faces and heels.
Dear Dudes Who Stole My Cellphone Last Night,
I’ve got to give you props; you managed to outwit a certified genius in myself. I mean, pretending like you, too, were about to hop off the bus and sandwiching me for a good 5 seconds while you picked my pocket was a brilliant idea. It was simple and obviously effective.
So okay, you win this one. What you won’t win at though, is LIFE. You see, stealing my crummy cellphone won’t get you enough money to buy medication FOR YOUR MOTHERS’ TUBERCULOSIS, ASSHOLES.
I’m really not that affected with the fact that I lost something of significant value (like I said, the phone’s a piece of shit but anything over P200 for me counts as “significant”). The worst part of it is that you managed to inconvenience the fuck out of me. I’m fine with losing valuables, but forcing me to rebuild my contacts lists and setting up a new phone is what irks me the most.
You see, this is where I am in the Initiative-O-Meter:
I’m right between hobos and a black midget.
I’m so pissed at the fact that I have to encode every goddamned name and number of every goddamned person I know into a new phone, that I wish that I were Bryan Mills and had the skill set to hunt you down and judo chop the piss out of you.
Just so I won’t have to spend an afternoon being hassled with re-populating my directory.
So yeah. I wish you nothing but misery. I hope that the next typhoon to hit our shores floods your shanties and gives your children leptospirosis.
TANG INA NIYO.
Coco
So my Mom found this while cleaning up an old cabinet. No need for a lengthy introduction, feel free to read along.
What’s interesting, to me at least, is that I obvsiouly never gave her the letter. (Or, I never gave it to Brady for him to give to the girl.). I guess that I’m just as much as a mega-puss now as I was seventeen years ago.
I can’t even remember the last time I wrote an actual love letter. I remember writing a pathetic plea to an ex begging her to not leave me when I was seventeen (I think I even quoted a Dave Matthews song in there. Yikes.) And I do remember writing Tintin out of the blue a few months back; but I don’t really go from “You’re beautiful” to “Give me your picture, woman” to “I LOVE YOU” in one paragraph in that one.
Anyway, that’s all for now.
I haven’t been sleeping well this week, having to adjust to the night shift required of my new job. But it’s all good, I’ve been learning a lot, and the people at work are fantastic.
Although, only one person at the office bothered to acknowledge my kickass "Don’t Hassel the Hoff" shirt the other day. Maybe it’s because of the fact that despite being a weak and lanky man, I can come off as a real douche sometimes. It’s either that, or they’re the saddest group of individuals in the whole, entire world. I mean, who wouldn’t flip out over a Hasselhoff shirt?
Anyway, here be nuggets of information regarding the week that was. I’d post these on Twitter, but as the title expressly states, I didn’t want to flood the service.
1. Extremely shitty Sunday to cap off a slightly shitty week. Good job, World. Ass.
2. Yesterday, for the first time since 1993, I heard someone use the term "Ja-fakes," as in "Yung mga ja-fakes sa Divisoria."
3. Sinong gustong makipag-lips-to-lips sa akin?
4. Huwag muna ngayon, pagka’t ako’y muling nagkaroon ng mala-higanteng singaw.
5. I have an iPod. But it’s pink. And it’s three years old. It’s a hand-me-down from my sister. My younger sister.
6. I also take back what I said about the Flight of the Conchords CD. I said that the songs were over-produced and that I’d be sticking to the TV versions for now. But I was laughing like an idiot on the bus ride home while listening to "Ladies Of the World."
7. Hermaphrodite! (Lady-Man-Ladies!) Oh you sexy hermaphrodite lady-man-ladies! With your sexy lady bits!
And your sexy man bits too!
8. Anyone got any advice on adjusting one’s body clock? I’ve been having a hard time catching up on my sleep in the afternoons.
That’s pretty much it. I could really use some help on the sleep thing, though.
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I hail from the far kingdom of Las Pinas City, and have put an end to the debauchery of numerous monsters of the land and of the seas.
Furthermore, my scrupulous attention to detail has entitled me to garner the following honors from ages past: best in art, best marksman, and most likely to become Emperor of the Philippines.
