Of Coffee Cups and Pyramids

The message came from a high school classmate I have not talked to in years. “Free ka ba ng Monday?” she typed. Thinking it was a message meant for another person I replied, “Wrong send ka yata?” She said she wasn’t mistaken, that the message was meant for me and that she wanted us to meet for coffee. Being burned one too many times by invitations such as this, I bluntly asked her “What for?” to which she answered, “May ipe-present kasi ako sa iyo baka magustuhan mo.

Just as I thought, another Multi-level marketing (MLM) pitch. I graciously turned down her invitation and resumed my office duties.

Two things can be taken from the paragraph above: One – I should not be opening my Facebook account while in the office and two – MLM is a pandemic that shows no signs of slowing down. I am pretty sure that one in three of my Facebook friends have been propositioned for a coffee meeting and perhaps some of them might have even been gullible enough to take the bait. I can’t blame them, these people seem pretty sincere when they’re asking you how you are and telling you how they are excited to see you after all these years. You might even enjoy the conversation, but then comes the sales pitch and you find yourself doing all sorts of diva hands just to reinforce that you are not interested. “But it’s a pretty foolproof way to earn money!” they argue. “I have not even been doing this for two months but I’m earning thousands of pesos per week.” For chrissakes do not, under any circumstances, give in to the get-rich scheme. If that person really has been earning tons of cash per week, then he/she should be inviting you to a steak dinner and not to measly cup of coffee with no refills. I do not blame the Juan de la Cruz who gets sucked in to MLM scams. Every one of us dreams of being able to pull in millions without so much as a sneeze. But you have to draw the line between dreams and reality.

Weeks ago, I was talking to a co-worker who said she has joined a lot of networking businesses. I almost fell out of my seat laughing when she said that one of the products she had to sell were special sanitary pads. Now I’m a person who hoards sanitary pads and I use three types per cycle so you can say I have no problems doling out cash for breathable covers and wide wings, but the product she mentioned was ridiculous. It claimed to regulate hormones, prevent pimples, and all sorts of stuff. Maybe it even prevents cancer, I can’t be sure as I was too busy laughing. On a more serious note though, the extent in which some people stretch themselves for multi-level marketing has gone borderline cult-like. My co-worker was lucky to have snapped out of it early enough but others are not so lucky. Here are people who do not care if they burn connections as long as they tell anyone and everyone on Facebook that their brand is the holy grail of health/weight-loss/skin-whitening/vagina-tightening products. They’ll even cite celebrities to back up their claims. Though I do not doubt that these celebrities use, and at some point, endorse their products I don’t think they do it as zealously as some of our Facebook friends. To be fair, the products these people are selling are quite good (hence, the expensive tag price), but the manner in which they are distributed is kind of shady if you ask me. Instead of focusing on selling the products, the heads of MLM schemes prioritize the recruitment of people who need to cash out for membership and training. Then, when they’re on the inside, they are also tasked to recruit other people who, depending on the program, may or may not contribute to the upline’s (recruiter’s) income. This system really perturbs me, what happens when they hit market saturation?

Is this really the way to earn money now? By being “exclusive distributors” and by building pyramids where only the people on top get to enjoy the riches? Should we dedicate an entire business program in colleges to study this format? Is it just a fad that will run its course or is it something we will all catch, one coffee cup at a time?

First of Many

My son just confessed that he has a crush on someone. I don’t know how the topic came up. We were just watching episodes of 7th Heaven when I suddenly felt the urge to ask him if he liked someone in school. A sheepish smile broke across his face and my heart stopped a little. “What’s her name?” I asked. “Or his name”, I added for good measure. He replied that the girl’s name is Zayna… or maybe it’s spelled Xena as you know parents cannot be trusted with giving their kids uncomplicated names.

So kailan ko siya makikilala?” the nosy mother in me asked. “Punta ka ng school para makilala mo siya“, he answered. Poor boy, he doesn’t know what he is suggesting. He went on to say that we should keep it a secret and I agreed.

Some secret it was, he told Aaron and Mama five minutes after. I asked if he already shared his “secret” with any of his classmates and he nodded his head… there’s that coy smile again. Drat. He told Zayna/Xena herself. “Anak, wag ganun. Girls like it when you keep things cool.” I advised my son. Just then, my mother piped up, “Hindi, okay lang. If you like someone, you let that other person know.” I looked at Aaron to back me up but he was engrossed with his tuna carbonara that time.

Man, I wasn’t ready for this. I thought he’d start having crushes while he’s in grade school but the heart wants what it wants eh? Oh well, in a couple of years we’re going to have “the talk”, whether he’s ready for it or not.

Oh, and Zayna/Xena? We shall see each other soon.

Ten Signs You’re Getting Older


I just celebrated my 28th birthday and while everyone was reminding me that I am two years shy from hitting the big three-oh, I kept a demure smile and told them that I still feel 23.

At times though, certain things remind me that I’m not as youthful as I would like my cells to believe. In my opinion, the following items are experiences familiar to people inching towards their 30th year:

1. You can no longer pull all-nighters.

Remember when you crammed a semester’s worth of lessons into three hours of rapid studying and memorizing? Yeah, so do I. You probably had time to party after the exams. Try duplicating that while you’re making a presentation for your boss and see if you’re not asleep after the first hour of cramming.

2. You get exasperated at kids who don’t dress their age.

My eyeballs immediately roll at tweenies dressed like twenty-somethings, forgetting that at one point, I also tried to pull off the party girl look while waiting for puberty to hit.

3. Sunday is becoming your favorite day of the week

I used to hate Sundays because they herald the coming of busy Mondays yet now I appreciate the sense of laziness that comes with this day.

4. Fast food is something you avoid as you can immediately see its effects.

Don’t you just hate that you can no longer eat a burger without it showing on your gut?

5. You forego the hip and trendy club for something more relaxed.

Who cares if they are offering beer at 50% less? Well, I don’t drink so this never mattered to me… but yeah, I want to be in a place where I can actually hear the other person talk!

6. You take more chances…

…because you’ve seen people your age die and you realize you’re lucky to be alive, you should be making the most out of life.

7. You begin to realize that your parents have their own life stories.

I went through the whole “My-mother-does-not-understand-me-at-all” phase too but now I am beginning to see that my mother has her own history – her own reasons for being who she is, for thinking what she thinks, for saying what she says. I used to respect her (grudgingly) for being my mother but now I respect her as an individual.

8. Your role during the holidays has changed.

The feeling of  getting excited over Christmas Eve dinner and opening the presents are now distant memories of your childhood. You don’t know exactly when or how it happened but you suddenly became in charge of cooking dinner and shopping for presents.

9. You don’t feel the need to read every book that is trending on social media.

Who cares if the author is being touted as this decade’s Dan Brown. If it isn’t your genre, you pass up on buying it and letting it collect dust bunnies on your bookshelf.

10. There’s a particular thing you spend a lot of money on.

For others it’s shoes, for me it’s perfume. It’s not about being pasosyal, it’s merely realizing there is one thing in your life that you won’t make compromises with, even if it means shelling extra dough .

The Ugly Side of Love


She looks at you from across the room, your heart beats just a little bit faster while you recall the lovely afternoon you spent by the seaside. A slow smile spreads across your face as she mouths the words “I love you.” Right that moment, you feel everything is right in this world… and that there’s no way you’ll love like this again.

Seven months later, you’re cursing the day she was born. This, ladies and gentlemen is not a story of love gone bad. This is the true story of love, with all its fats and trimmings. If you’re sixteen and still optimistic about the idea, do yourself a favor and stop reading this; you’ll just be disillusioned. On second thought, maybe it will do you some good to stick around and learn a lesson or two. Brace yourself, oh innocent one, you’re in for the shock of your life.

Many definitions have been attributed to romantic love. We have the oft-repeated slam book phrase“Love is like a rosary, full of mysteries”, the highly-clinical “it is a feeling commenced in the hypothalamus”, the cynical “It is the best excuse to make a complete ass out of yourself” (oh wait, that’s my personal definition), and the one lifted out of Antoine de Saint Exupery’s book, “looking together in the same direction” (mostly used by men who want to sound smart while trying to get into your pants). I won’t even get into the details of the different levels of love by Plato because this is a blog, not Philo101. What am I trying to point out here? Your definition of love may not always be in congruence with that other people. For example, I know of a woman who is happy even though her husband has fathered children outside of the marriage. As long as she and her family are well-provided for, she is content with the idea that her husband is a loving and responsible man. What may seem like utter foolishness to you is sweet, tender love to others. Just like religion, it’s useless to argue about it. We each have our own ideas. Don’t think that this is the ugly part yet, I’m merely reintroducing the basics.

After establishing what love is for you, you decide, or maybe not (good for you!), to experience it for yourself. Perhaps the warning you got from your parents or your already-hitched friends weren’t enough, or maybe you’re into self-inflicted pain, I don’t know; but you still go ahead and plunge into the world of relationships. Excited, you can’t wait for that first hit of love. As is often the case, you take the first thing that remotely looks like love and take it for the real thing. Sex is usually the main culprit why you stick around for something fake even when your friends are telling you you have the cheapest taste in women or that you’re in need of new prescription for your eyeglasses. After a while, you get a hold of yourself again, and you call it quits. It hurts, and you make a big deal of showing it to other people. They, however, aren’t sure if you’re really in pain or bemoaning the fact that you won’t be getting laid until further notice.

But the the gods are good, and you find yourself falling again. With renewed vows to make it work this time, you pour all your energy into making sure your partner feels what you feel. Everything seems so beautiful. The sun is shining just a bit brighter. There is a spring in your step. You forgive people easily, even wishing them a good day as they mutter apologies for smashing your face with their bags while getting out of the MRT. You feel that the moon is casting a glow on your face just to mirror the radiance within.

You insufferable narcissistic twat. Not everything is about you, as you will learn in the succeeding months. You’re in for a very rude awakening.

I will let you in on a little secret that rom-coms conveniently leave out in the script: Love is a messy inconvenience. Yes, despite the headiness that you feel during the first few dates and the rush of excitement that comes after finding out you listen to the same bands, you will still come into the realization that love is ugly. If you can delay this as much as possible, well and good. But once you stumble upon this revelation, there is no turning back. All the things you once found attractive in your partner become the very things you will hate his/her guts for. Then comes the make or break part. You decide whether you can leave with these imperfections (because if you are anything like the deluded cretin writing this post, you would assume that all  the issues in your relationship are through no fault of your own), or you can decide to stay and wade through the muck.

Love is ugly and you know what makes it uglier? The fact that you would have to go through crap like this many times before finding someone who is willing to stick it out with you despite your own hideousness. And even if you are lucky enough to find that person, both of you will still go through repugnant things that will make you question your sanity.

Why am I telling you this, you ask? Because I feel like finishing a draft that I made three years ago, that’s why. Also because I feel it is my duty to remind humanity that except for Meryl Streep, nothing is perfect and everything needs work – including you, me, and relationships. So whether you are posting “Single Is Sexy” status updates to convince us (more like yourself) that you’re okay with being single or wearing one-half of a couple’s shirt (in which case, I am judging you), please be reminded that having a Valentine is more than someone give you three pieces of Ferrero. It takes utmost courage to plow through the ugliness of a relationship to finally see its beauty.


“Tell me I’m beautiful,” she told him while she played with the buttons of his shirt. He was always amused when she asked him to do this. It was as if she was not the confident woman that many men fawned over; it was as if she was a woman-child, unsure of herself and her power. “You already know you are,” he said, unzipping her skirt and letting it fall to the floor. He kissed her as he worked on unbuttoning her blouse. “Yes,” she said breathlessly. “But I still want to hear it from you.” He trailed kisses from her jawline to her collarbone and acquiesced. “You are beautiful,” he said in between kisses “and your mind makes you even more beautiful.”

It was true, he found her attractive because of her passion for anything and everything intellectual, it was just a bonus that she also happened to be aesthetically pleasing. He could hardly believe his luck when she agreed to go to his place on the pre-text of checking his book collection. He knew she did not drink and hated the glass of light beer he ordered for her. In fact, she hardly even touched it which was probably a good idea as it assured him that she came to his flat unadulterated by liquor.

They were already naked and he reached behind her to turn off the lights. She turned them back on. “No,” she said rather firmly, “I want you to see me. And I want to see all of you.” They were hardly gym buffs and their penchant for rice has taken a toll on their bodies so he was rather perplexed by her request. All this faded away though, when she finally opened her body to him. He forgot all his questions, all his inhibitions about his beer gut, and all the rumors he heard in the office that soon, his boss will be giving him his walking papers. She was the only thing he could see, hear, and feel right now. She felt him shudder and knew it was over. She looked at him with the same wide eyes she had looked at him before they had undressed each other and saw his expression change from ecstasy to exhaustion.

His eyes remained shut for what seemed like forever. They finally opened and they were on the ceiling, the glass on the table. the clothes on the floor. They were on everything but her. She was not particularly surprised. He always found it uncomfortable to look at her and she never bothered to figure out why. Slowly, she disentangled herself from him and put her clothes back on. He lay in bed, both mesmerized and disturbed at the way she methodically put every piece of clothing on.

“Did you…” he need not have asked, she already knew what was on his mind. “Yes, I enjoyed myself.” Kissing him lightly on the mouth, she bid him farewell. It was the last they would see of each other.

He would always think of himself as one of the many men she ensorcelled but it could not have been farther from the truth.

He was her only indiscretion and that was already enough.

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.