1: A sheet of paper is an ink-lined plane.
2: An inclined plane is a slope up.
3: A slow pup is a lazy dog.

QED: A sheet of paper is a lazy dog.

Spinning around…in all the 90’s glam I could ever imagine…all happening inside my head…

Long, frayed mullet. Skin-tight, lace-up leather pants. Leather vest. Suede cowboy boots. Hippie, tie-dyed headband and aviator glasses. Explosions. Lots of it. Band name in bright lights, mixing neon and bulbs.

Song ends.

Back to reality.

You usually wear jeans or basically just dress down every Fridays. Then you’re boss tells you that you can wear jeans from Wednesday till Friday for this week only. Back the same routine after the week ends. You know it’s still crappy that you can only wear jeans every Fridays, but you still feel glad, happy, almost ecstatic that you’re given permission to dress down for an extra 2 days of THIS week. You spread the news, WITH GLEE, to your fellow co-workers, mimicking the kid from The Matrix Revolutions movie screaming “The war is over.”

The above was the point. Here’s the ponder.

Isn’t it a little bit pathetic to be ecstatic about something like being able to wear jeans at work? If you wanna wear jeans to work, get a construction employee’s job. Or go to another company that does basically the same thing you do, except that they don’t have a dress code and you can wear jeans all you want, as much as you can. I just don’t see the point of being happy for such a minuscule… thingy… when it’s the same grind all over again after the current week.

Here’s more ponder.

If your boss is really good, wouldn’t they know what makes you, the employee, happy? And wouldn’t they know that a very happy employee is a very productive employee? And that a very productive employee will rake in more business and more income for the company which basically gives more financial incentives and bonuses to the boss indirectly?

Just pondering.

It was a rainy Saturday afternoon. The roads were wet, but not slick. Blue trudged on heavily, feeling sick like his owner. Damned traffic. Why does the traffic get heavy after a downpour? Blue wondered.

A truck about a car ahead of him was also venting it’s heat through the exhaust. Good thing Blue wasn’t beside that truck or it would’ve been a very hot and humid afternoon. Then, two little kids approached the truck. Kids no more than 12, Blue thinks. At first, it seemed that the kids were just trying to warm themselves up with the truck’s exhaust. That’s a really effective way of warming yourself, and committing suicide at the same time. Then one of the kids reached out to the box that usually contains tools and other miscellany at the side of the truck, just beside the exhaust. The kid picked up the lock and looked at it. Seeing as they can’t open it without a key, the two kids then started pulling on the lid of the compartment. Blue thought the kids were just trying to fix something. Then it dawned on him that they were trying to steal whatever’s inside the compartment. THEY WERE STEALING. One of the cars behind Blue honked their horns. It attracted the attention of the truck driver. One of the passengers of the truck then jumped out and chased away the unsuccessful kids. Then after the commotion is over, the traffic dragged on.

But it wasn’t over. One of the kids’ friends tried to finish the job. And this time, he was holding a piece of rock, maybe to defend himself, but at first, Blue thought it was to smash the lock on the box. This kid is about 12 to 15 years old. And when the traffic moved a little bit faster, the kid tried to smash and grab whatever’s inside the box WHILE the truck was moving. The kid only gave up after about 20 feet. He was panting on the side of the bridge. Unsuccessful.

I don’t think this will be the last time I’ll see something like this. Now can somebody please tell me, WTF is the local government doing with it’s friggin’ city?! WHO the F knows what those kids are gonna do next?!!!

Sad to say, the world has gone to the dogs. I’m just not sure if the dogs even want it.

This has been bugging me ever since I started driving. I can deal with heavy traffic. There’s too many cars on the road all the time anyway. It’s a fact. Too many cars and not enough roads. Or lanes for that matter. And the car companies just keep on making cars thinking that if they release a new car every year, people will change their cars every year. And if people did, they don’t know what to do with the old car. Except maybe give it to their first born. Then the first born will just sell it for a hundred bucks so they can buy a skateboard or a pair of earrings. What the heck are they thinking anyway? Let’s put cup holders on the models for next year. Why didn’t they put those things for this year’s model? So they can release a new model next year? *sigh*

But I digress.

Anyway, it’s not the number of cars on the road at any given time that’s been bugging me.

It’s the headlights.

It’s not about their shapes. Although some of them look like eyes nowadays. A pair of them can tell a pedestrian to “get off the road, I’m coming!” Another can convey sleepiness. And the new ones, the shapes, they get weirder and weirder that they’re starting to look like missile compartments that with a flick of a switch, the lights retract and out come the tips of a missile’s warhead.

But it’s not the shapes.

It’s how bright they’re becoming.

Why would you need a very, very bright headlight anyway? Everyone will be able to see better at night if the street lamps were on. And what if they’re not on? Then you can use your high beam when oncoming traffic is NOT present. When there is traffic, of course you need to be considerate enough to let oncoming traffic see the road they are on so they don’t hit you. You don’t blind them by using your high beam. YOU LET THEM SEE YOU, NOT THE LIGHTS. I wonder why people don’t get that. People who can’t see good at night that they have to use their high beam all the time they’re driving SHOULD NOT BE ALLOWED TO DRIVE AT NIGHT AT ALL. Starting from 5:30PM, all those who can’t see good at night should have a curfew in driving. That doesn’t mean you can’t go out anymore. You can. As long as you are NOT driving.

I’m not against vision-impaired drivers. I’m against the inventors who made those friggin’ blinding lights. I’m against stupid and inconsiderate drivers who don’t care if they blind oncoming traffic with their headlights. So you signal to them that you’re being blinded by their lights with your high beam by flicking it once or twice. Some people respond positively by turning off their high beam. Others just don’t care. Those others have nice cars. Too bad you can’t see and appreciate it anymore BECAUSE OF THOSE FRIGGIN’ HEADLIGHTS!

1. Clean your room. If it’s already clean, thrash it. Then clean it.
2. Light up a cig. It helps you think about what to do next after smoking.
3. Counting sheep will only make you sleepy. Count the number of times they poop in a day instead.
4. Read a book. No, wait. Read a “dirty” book.
5. Watch a movie on cable or rent a dvd. Movies by film companies like Vivid are a good choice.
6. Blog-surf. Check out what other people do when they’re bored.
7. Post something in your blog. If you don’t have one, get one.
8. Chat with someone. Anyone.
9. Read past email messages and correct those that have wrong grammar. Even if you are the one at fault.
10. Start a new hobby, like, collecting lint from your belly-button, or make a collage of toenail clippings.
11. Take a shower. Take a LONG shower. Make sure to clean behind your ears.
12. Google search the keywords “bored,” “impair productivity,” and “websites.” Bookmark ALL the results.
13. Unlucky. Skip this number.
14. Organize your bookmarks into categories like “bookmark 1,” “bookmark 2,” etc.
15. Make up a list of things you want to do before you die. Put “visit will’s website” at least on number 2.
16. Donate to the poverty- and calamity-stricken. You have to do at least one good deed anyway.
17. Rant about how Dubya screwed up in helping out calamity-stricken States.
18. Wonder where those people who voted for Dubya are.
19. Wonder if those people who voted for Dubya can still sleep at night.
20. Do some more Blog-surfing. Take what you want. Leave what you don’t like. Enlighten yourself.
21. I don’t like this number. Skip this.
22. Geoff’s birthday. Oops. I thought this was a date. Greet everyone a happy birthday then. Belated or in advance, it doesn’t matter, as long as you remembered.
23. Google search the keywords “clubber,” “vaseline,” and “implants.” Visit every single hit it returns.
24. Do something risky. Make a crank call.
25. Slide down a stairs handrails. Repeat until your bum is burned.
26. Paint the town red. Make sure the cops don’t get you.
27. Be creative. Paint the town green instead. Or purple.
28. Lather, rinse, repeat. Until the sun goes down.
29. Wear your undies over your head and run through the office corridors, shouting “I’m growing my hair curly!”
30. Rub toilet paper on your balding pate. They say toilet paper helps hair grow faster. Just look at your a-hole.

So the office had a fire drill last Friday. The Facilities Manager went around asking volunteers from each department to join the drill so that we’ll all be familiar with the procedures, etc. Representatives from each department will then be sending out an email to inform their respective departments about the procedures.The drill, by the way, required every participant to use the stairs going down from the 28th floor to the ground floor then to the assembly point. I had the luck of being the rep for our department. Yes, luck. I’m not saying if it was good luck or bad. I’m just saying it was my luck.

Can you imagine going down from the 28th floor to the ground using the stairs? I can. I actually did. It wasn’t as tiring as I thought it was gonna be. But then, when we got to the assembly point, my knees felt the sting. It started to shake. So I sat down. Then it got better. When I stand up, however, I can feel my thigh muscles burn. I think my muscles had atrophied already from non-use.

So the day went on without a hitch. Except when my Chings called me up and told me she wasn’t feeling too great and that she already threw up inside a cab (in a barf bag). So I rushed to her office with my wobbly legs, commuted to her office and picked her up to take her home to get some rest. When I took the underpass to cross the street, my legs weren’t feeling too great. With every step down, my knees shook. With every step up, my thighs burned. Anyway, I got through the day feeling a bit worked-out. The next day, my legs felt worse. It was as if I ran for miles. It was more than a workout. It was torture. And because of this, I would like to officially blame the fire drill.

I hate fire drills. Makes your legs shaky and tired that when fire actually starts, you don’t have the energy anymore to go down the flight of stairs to save yourself. You’ll just lie down on the floor, doing a war scene where someone gets injured. You call out to your fellow employees, “Go! Save yourself!” Then a heroic fellow shouts back at you, “NOBODY GETS LEFT BEHIND!” Then they carry you to safety. You end up being a helpless duck at the assembly point while that fellow employee gets their parade. Then all you can say about it is that if it wasn’t for you, no one would even know where to go. That if it weren’t you who went with the fire drill the day before, you would’ve carried the one who did.

Ah, life. It’s so friggin’ ironic.

I went down to the ground floor of our building to pay some bills through the ATM today. I was with my friend and we decided to use the ATM on the Gil Puyat side of the building instead of those in the lobby.

It’s a nice day for some Japanese, I said when we passed by this japanese fastfood resto. But it was closed. Bleh! Then we rounded on a corner and saw that the doors on the Gil Puyat side of the building are still closed. So we went back and there I saw something very familiar.

It was a signage for a convenience store and it seems that they are constructing a branch at the ground floor of the building.

What the heck?! There’s a branch of that convenience store just outside right across the street! Are the employees of this building too lazy to cross the street that a convenience store is opening up a branch inside the building so that all they have to do is just go to the ground floor? Or is this convenience store taking the word “convenience” far too seriously?

I mean, come on! It’s just across the street! Sheesh! Next thing you’ll know, you have a convenience store just across your very remote house and another one being constructed just right next to you.

You know you need some exercise, but you can’t go to the gym. It’s either too expensive, or very time-consuming that you would rather sleep because you’re tired from work. And jogging is out of the question, since we can barely inhale the air that we breathe in. So the only way for you to have some exercise is by walking. And a convenience store opening up nearer you just bites it. It’s basically taking away the little exercise that we have when we cross the street to get there. This just goes to show that we humans are indeed becoming very lazy.

What a civilization we?’re turning out to be.

…so could somebody please tell me what happened to Saturday and Sunday?

Oh, that’s right. I did some errands for my house last weekend. Bought some co-ax cable to extend my cable TV because I’m gonna reposition the box. But then, I forgot where I put the U-shaped tacks to hold the cable in place, and I didn’t buy some when I bought the cable. Good thing I didn’t forget the connectors. Hehe. I also helped my flatmate pick a bed. Then went to an anticipated mass so I don’t have to go to Church on Sunday. Then it was already too late to go to my friend’s birthday party so my girlfriend and I decided to go straight to Tagaytay, in which we had a convoy with my brother. Is it ?had a convoy? or ?did a convoy? or ?convoyed?? ANYWAY, we just had dinner and then they, my sisters, had some cocktail drinks while watching a DVD. Went to bed then the following day, we went swimming at the clubhouse’s pool. Which reminds me, we forgot to pay the clubhouse of the fees. OMG! It’s almost 24 hours and I remembered just now. Holy crap! I’m friggin’ going senile!!!

What a great friggin’ way to start the week.

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Got this from Rizalist’s comment. If I do the below, am I considered a journalist?

Journalist’s Code of Ethics
National Union of Journalists of the Philippines.

I. I shall scrupulously report and interpret the news, taking care not to suppress essential facts nor to distort the truth by omission or improper emphasis. I recognize the duty to air the other side and the duty to correct substantive errors promptly.

II. I shall not violate confidential information on material given me in the exercise of my calling.

III. I shall resort only to fair and honest methods in my effort to obtain news, photographs and/or documents, and shall properly identify myself as a representative of the press when obtaining any personal interview intended for publication.

IV. I shall refrain from writing reports that will adversely affect a private reputation unless the public interest justifies it. At the same time, I shall fight vigorously for public access to information.

V. I shall not let personal motives or interests influence me in the performance of my duties, nor shall I accept or offer any present, gift or other consideration of a nature that may cast doubt on my professional integrity.

VI. I shall not commit any act of plagiarism.

VII. I shall not, in any manner, ridicule, cast aspersions on, or degrade any person by reason of sex, creed, religious belief, political conviction, cultural and ethnic origin.

VIII. I shall presume persons accused of crime of being innocent until proven otherwise. I shall exercise caution in publishing names of minors and women involved in criminal cases so that they may not unjustly lose their standing in society.

IX. I shall not take unfair advantage of a fellow journalist.

X. I shall accept only such tasks as are compatible with the integrity and dignity of my profession, invoking the ?conscience clause? when duties imposed on me conflict with the voice of my conscience.

XI. I shall conduct myself in public or while performing my duties as journalist in such manner as to maintain the dignity of my profession. When in doubt, decency should be my watchword.