Car Washer’s maong reeks

I think we’d all agree that we go through life learning a lot of nifty things.Like the other day for instance, I had some sort of refresher course with “Murphy’s law.�I absolutely hate cleaning my car, and the rare occasions that I do, something almost always goes wrong.Either some neighborhood kid with artistic bouts decides that writing “JAY-JAY 2005� in big, jagged letters using green Crayola would look funky on my red Civic; or a bird finds it funny to decorate my windshield with a splat or two of a white, grainy substance an hour after I clean it.The other day, however, it was Mother Nature’s turn to piss on me and my car.It wouldn’t be so bad if I wasn’t halfway applying wax on the damn thing.

You’d think that after so many times that this has happened to me I’d just stop cleaning my car altogether and just bring it to the car wash but no sir!I keep on doing it; maybe because it satisfies my self actualization need.After all, nothing beats rolling down the street with a gleaming, squeaky clean, big, mean, red machine knowing you cleaned it—and that’s saying something considering that I live in a country that’s steadily becoming known for cheap labor.For a measly $0.90, you could have a platoon of minimum wagers pile up over your car and buff it up to a shimmer you never thought possible.

Or maybe the self actualization bit is bullshit. Maybe I just don’t like the stink of them car washer’s wet jeans to cause my upholstery to permanently reek.Wet, improperly dried maong has this weird repulsive stench if you don’t know already.In Ilocos we call that stench umok. But I digress.

I have a point somewhere within the last three paragraphs but I lost it. I think what I’m trying to drive at is that if I only respected “Murphy’s law� more; maybe I wouldn’t be doomed to make the same mistakes over and over again.

But I’m stupid like that and Murphy, whoever he is, hates my guts.In fact if Murphy was a real person he’d probably punch my face in, make me bite the curb and kick the shit out of me.

The very same principle is applicable to drinking sessions with my friends Mark Garcia and Nisha Solomon; I know that whenever I get sloshed with them, I end up doing the most stupid of things—like giving my phone away, lying in the middle of a street almost ending up doing time for indecent exposure or in this case—sleeping with Nisha?Let’s hope not…

I look at the Caller Line Identification on my Motorola again:

— Solomon, Nisha –

I flipped the phone open and held it against my ear.

“Hey Nixie! What’s up?� I ask sounding like I have a mouthful of crackers.

“Not much Mike, what’s up?� The perky female voice on the other end replies.

“Not much, what’s up with YOU?�I have come to an understanding that ‘what’s up’ is a mildly amusing verbal soccer match where you keep kicking ‘not much’ up and down the field until somebody gets down to business.

I’m positive that even the geekiest, most uninteresting people in the world could come up with something better than ‘not much.’“I replaced my hard drive and installed DIMM’s on my motherboard yesterday� would be an acceptable reply, but I reckon we’re just throwing ‘not much’ at each other because of the sheer awkwardness of the situation.Awkward? Why the hell would we feel awkward?But of course there’s a possibility that we did something last night that might cause all this…awkwardness; and honestly, that’s a possibility I wouldn’t want to think about right now.

And if she ever says ‘not much’ again, I’m going to hang myself with a necktie.

“Not much, hey listen…� I do a cartwheel. “I’m just checking if you’re alright, you were puking your guts out earlier at my place.� She says.

“I’m better I guess, although the puking hasn’t stopped yet and my head feels like it was raped by a whale.What did you put in my drink last night man?� I ask prepping myself for the worst.

“You wish! Mike, if I wanted to rape you, I wouldn’t have to do all that.You’re the most easily seduced man on the planet.� She has a point.

“Don’t start with the seduction talk Nixie.� I said, trying to dodge the subject.“By the way, thank you for taking me home last night, I just learned that through Mark.� I added, coming up with the best segue I could muster.

“Mike, I have something to tell you…� I think I’m drifting back to sleep again. Sepia colored scenes are beginning to hit me from all directions; sort of like those flashback moments in the movies. I think it’s all coming back to me.

Nisha and I, in all our drunken glory barely made it inside her condominium in Katipunan. What’s surprising is that upon entry (in her condo you pervert), there were a couple of our friends waiting for us already—our good friends testosterone and estrogen.

“Well, well, well! Look who finally decided to show up.� Testosterone looked up from the book he’s reading. “Do you know how long we’ve waited?� He said peeved. Testosterone has this temper problem you see.

“Oh come on T!� Estrogen cut in.“Take it easy on the two; they look like they had a long night.The important thing is that they’re here and we could get the party started.�Estrogen said in a cheerful tone. No wonder a lot of men nowadays love Estrogen so much.

I figured that since we’ve kept Estrogen and Testosterone waiting for so long, we should do the only decent thing left. We skipped dinner and the drinks altogether. Actually I don’t think we even made it to the bedroom before all the articles of clothing found themselves random, comfortable places on the floor. I think I even remember one of my socks hanging on one of the cacti Nisha has in her apartment.

“Oh my fucking God, we did it didn’t we?� I said snapping out of my micro sleep.

“What!?� Even Nisha didn’t see that coming.

“I’m sorry, I think I fell asleep and I was dreaming of something along the lines of that. I mean, not that I WANT it, but that’s how dreams go I guess.� I said fumbling for words.

“You’re an idiot you know that? And what’s up with that? See? I knew all along how much you desire me!� Nisha starts to laugh.

“…�

“NOTHING HAPPENED MIKE. You were so drunk you couldn’t even see straight, you were practically crashing into every wall in the place. You didn’t want to go home man, you were THAT drunk. I had to use a little beer logic on you to convince you to let me take you home. You know, I even told you that there was a treasure chest full of chocolates waiting for you in your house.� She said still laughing.

“So we didn’t?� I ask.

“No! And you should feel bad about it!� She jokes.

I should probably sleep now.