Monday Mlues

The fourth of June started out badly for me. I had an hour’s travel time, from Quezon City to Makati, waiting for me as soon as I woke up at 0530. Breakfast wasn’t exactly the best that it could be, although my dad (who’s cooked breakfast for us since time immemorial) did his damnedest to get the organic rice cooked on time. It was the first time he’s ever handled organic rice, and albeit his good intentions, his results were an absolute disaster. From here on end, my bad day blues, henceforth known as “Monday Mlues” starting pouring. Mlue #1: a busted breakfast.

The trip to Makati City was as bad as expected, especially on Monday. A twenty-minute build-up in a small minute part of the gawd-forsaken highway called the Epifanio Delos Santos Avenue, or EDSA for short (which really stands for “Every Day Superdupersloooooow, Aw-c’mon-i-did-not-swerve-across-that-lane-i-swear-mister-officer”) was hellish, as usual, but what was particularly surprising was that there was another thirty-minute disaster on Buendia Avenue. What should have been a mere five-minute ride to our final destination became a half-hour nerve-racking Mlue #2: the tempestuous trip.

As soon as I stepped into the office, I cannot friggin’ believe what happened next. My cute sandals’ straps broke off! Mlue #3: shoddy shitty shoes.

My desk was also being attacked by a zillion tiny little buggers that grew from the overflowing trash can our office maintenance personnel forgot to take out last Friday. Mlue #4: icky icky insects.

Then I received an e-mail entitled, “Di ta guae yong khee.” At first, I thought, “well that’s a weird e-mail subject,” so I read it. It was one of those supposedly funny stories people e-mail to each other, telling the experience of a Filipino college student who tried to help his classmate take care of the latter’s ailing father in the hospital. His classmate was Filipino-Chinese, whose family spoke fluent Fookien (a Chinese dialect from the Fujian province of China). As he tended the old man, the Filipino student suddenly heard the patient repeatedly gasp, “Di ta guae yong khee! Di ta guae yong khee!” Then, the old man just died. The stupid author was trying to be morbidly funny, but his humour sure as hell didn’t pass muster with me. Number one, “di ta guae yong khee” is a horrible Anglicized translation of “You’re stepping on my oxygen.” Number two, the author kept on repeating that his classmate was “intsik,” that the classmate’s family was “intsik,” and that he did not understand the “intsik” language. The term “intsik” is a derogatory term locals here use to refer to their fellow mix-blooded Filipino-Chinese nationals. And, number three, even if this story is false, pray tell, why the hell is a story about manslaughter funny??? Mlue #5: black-and-blue bigotry.

I just wanted to say: Mondays suck.

Big time.

And, so do Thursdays. I oughtta have a “Thursday Thumpers” entry, but I better get through with this Tuesday first before “Tuesday Chuvaness” occurs.