13 Most Annoying Terms of 2013


My karaoke-loving neighbor on the left just hit an all-time high on the machine with his 17th rendition of Pusong Bato, the one on my right just cranked his radio up a notch so we can all hear Pitbull’s latest (illegally-downloaded) single, and the entire street is covered in soot. I should be putting the finishing touches on our media noche but as my mother kicked me out of the kitchen, I have nothing better to do than write this list of the top 13 words that made me groan in 2013.

Pag may time

Oh. My. Goodness. How in the world did a repetition of a certain word followed by this line become one of the most overused phrase of my generation? Push up push up din pag may time, Facebook Facebook din pag may time, tulog tulog din pag may time. Arrrgh! Bigti bigti rin pag may time!!! I know a lot of people who are also bothered by this phrase and they have used it themselves either as a way of mocking the zeitgeist or as a symbol of surrender to the powers that be. As the old saying goes. if you can’t beat ’em, join ’em.

Join join din pag may time. Kill me.

Yun oh

The first few times somebody said this to me, I would actually turn around to check what the other person was referring to.

Yan tayo eh

Ikaw lang yun.


Sounds a little dirty and not family-oriented at all. Then again, that’s just me.


Oh Yolanda, not only did you wreak havoc in my country you also introduced a word to people who took liberties in using it without bothering to find out what it means in the first place. I cannot call the people in Visayas looters, even if some of them got electronics instead of food. For all we know, they were thinking what they can acquire to sell when things in their town return to normal.

Just sayin’

Want to unleash a torrent of ranting and wash your hands off of the consequences? Add this phrase after your long tirade.


Regardless that some people claiming that this is now acceptable, I refuse to use it.


I believe that every woman should be allowed to dress and act the way she wants without the judgment of other people. I believe that no girl is ever “asking for it”. I also believe that “slut-shaming” is a very problematic term in describing the embarrassment others want to cause women who prefer to live their lives against people’s notion of how a lady should act. Why call her slut in the first place, eh?

Enough said

… and its variations, ’nuff said, nuff sed, ’nuff zed (shudder). Enough said is this year’s “that awkward moment”. Take a random moment, smack this label on it and watch as people automatically assume that what you said was actually something of substance.

In some cases though, this expression is totally warranted for. For example, a friend once posted on FB that her daughter claimed she was already full yet went back to the buffet table for more bacon. Her husband commented, “Bacon. Nuff said.” and that was truly a beautiful moment.

Lake show

Obviously, I am not a Lakers fan.


A real nerd never owns up to this title. Same thing goes with real geeks.


There are a lot of mean people out there who truly hate on ¬†you for no reason. My ranting right now makes me a hater. However, if these folks consistently”hate” you for the same thing and your mother agrees with them, then they are not “haters” but just people.

Anything included in a hashtag that’s not really a trending topic or something that people particularly search for

This is pretty self-explanatory.

A Letter of Apology to People Who Have Seen My Selfies

Dear Selfie-Loather,

I hope this letter finds you well. I am sorry for any spelling mistakes I may commit as I am typing in a dark room, with only the monitor of my laptop to serve as my light. I fight the urge to turn on the camera and take a photo of myself as it would defeat the purpose of this note. Let me begin by saying I am sorry. I am sorry for flooding your timeline with self portraits that not even my mother likes to view on a regular basis.

It started out innocently, as a way to have a profile photo on the now-defunct Friendster. What started out as a need to be identified among the bazillion site users turned into an obsession on finding out which angle is more flattering. The advent of camphones and faster internet access only exacerbated the situation. I was just one of the many college students who updated her social media profile more than she was poring over her readings of Habermas and Marcuse. Around the same time that I registered for my sophomore classes, I also registered for Multiply and quickly filled my profile with albums of about twenty photos each dedicated to me, myself, and I. Other friends labeled their albums “Vanity” while I stuck to the more chic-sounding “C’est Moi”. As sophisticated as the album was named, there was nothing cosmopolitan about the so-called random shots taken in the bathroom, on the soccer field, and in front of the clothesline. Yet I did not think I was offending anybody since nearly everyone I knew (or at least everyone on my friends list) was doing it too. It is with this mindset that our selfie obsession survived the shutting down of both Friendster and Multiply (may the rest in peace) and trickled to Facebook and Instagram. Then again, trickle is too mild a term to describe the onslaught of photos on social networking sites. Suddenly, everyone’s face is online and there is no shortage of captions/excuses that accompany it. Breakfast? Flight out of town? Manic Monday at the office? If it happened, then there’s a selfie to document it. I am guilty of doing all these, I just draw the line at posting photos of my new haircut. Does that mean I’m better than anyone else? Not at all.

See, selfie-hater, the tendency to take photos of ourselves is a habit that we have inculcated in the past seven years or so. Oxford Dictionaries crowned selfie as word of the year and it’s only a matter of time before the National Mental Health Association classifies it as a compulsion. We have angled our heads just so and pursed our lips ever so slightly many times already that we can do it with our eyes closed and without a front-facing camera. This does not mean that we do not understand your angst against cam-whoring. Believe me, I have hovered the mouse pointer over the unfriend button as many times as you have scoffed at my duck face poses (and while we’re at it, I’m calling out guys on their scrunch face or “sungit looks”. Ikinagwapo niyo yan?). I just did not know how irritating selfies were until I signed up for Instagram. I guess seeing it in a different platform just made me realize that everyone has a saturation point, even when it comes to pictures of pretty people. I promptly deleted the lone selfie on my IG after that.

So please, accept my sincerest apologies for all the times you were treated to an unfiltered photo of my BB-creamed face. I know how you feel and if I can only turn back time to shield you from my self-promoting photos, I would.




This does not mean I will never ever post a selfie again, though. The minute I get rock-hard abs, you can be certain that it’s going on Facebook, Instagram, Tumblr, Twitter, and my mother’s planner so please consider yourself warned.

Yes Yeoshie, There Is A Santa Claus

We were at the mall and he was asking me to buy him something. I told him I will check if the budget will allow it. He then said it does not matter, he will just ask Santa to give it to him this Christmas.

I lightly chuckled and told him Santa does not exist, that he was a character made popular by people to so that they would have a cute symbolism for consumerism. My son stomped his foot and told me that Santa did exist and that he would get him the toy he wanted for Christmas. I was just about to issue a retort when Aaron reminded me that I was arguing with a preschooler and that he was probably too young for my lessons on reality. I told Aaron if they are old enough to ask or make assumptions, then they are old enough to know.

Turns out my tyke did not just get my eyes, he also got my stubbornness. In no uncertain terms he told me that whatever words I use, he still chooses to believe in Santa. I was fuming on the ride back home. My dislike for Santa comes from my belief in the principle of giving credit where credit is due. It just did not seem fair to me that a fictional figure gets all the gratitude when in fact it was the parents’ hard-earned money that bought the gift. But then I look at my son and his furrowed eyebrows and I see we were seeing Santa Claus from two very different perspectives. Me as the mother whose wallet would be opening up for his gift of choice and he as the kid who wanted to believe in something, anything. I could not believe how petty I was being. I guess I was not as tolerant of other’s people beliefs as I thought I was. Briefly, I had a flashback of my five year old self insisting to my mother that my lesbian aunt was indeed a man. Exasperated as she was, my mother kept explaining that biologically my aunt Bobot was born a woman but had the “heart” of a man. I was too young to comprehend it and at that time, the simplest explanation appealed to me. Mama had all the time in the world to argue with me but she told me “Fine, if that is what you want to believe right now.”

I asked Yeoshie one last time, “Gusto mo talagang maniwala kay Santa?” (“Do you really want to believe in Santa?”) and he nodded. I kissed the top of his head and decided to let the argument go. Maybe when he is a little bit older, I might open the topic for discussion again – that is, if he has not figured out the truth for himself. For now though, I will give him this. After all, this is just a preview of the things to come when he becomes a teenager and begins to form his own set of beliefs. There will be times I would have to step back and let him think for himself. So long as he does not choose to run off with a cult or harbor hatred for those who believe in other things, I should be at peace with his decisions.

Yes Yeoshie there is a Santa Claus. A tooth fairy even. They can be married to each other if you want to. And somewhere in between the lair of the Sandman and the land of Oz lives a wizard who just cast a spell on your rigid mother so that she would be more tolerant and patient with her little prince.