<body><script type="text/javascript"> function setAttributeOnload(object, attribute, val) { if(window.addEventListener) { window.addEventListener('load', function(){ object[attribute] = val; }, false); } else { window.attachEvent('onload', function(){ object[attribute] = val; }); } } </script> <div id="navbar-iframe-container"></div> <script type="text/javascript" src="https://apis.google.com/js/plusone.js"></script> <script type="text/javascript"> gapi.load("gapi.iframes:gapi.iframes.style.bubble", function() { if (gapi.iframes && gapi.iframes.getContext) { gapi.iframes.getContext().openChild({ url: 'https://www.blogger.com/navbar.g?targetBlogID\x3d26651252\x26blogName\x3dThe+Girl+in+the+Dirty+Shirt\x26publishMode\x3dPUBLISH_MODE_BLOGSPOT\x26navbarType\x3dSILVER\x26layoutType\x3dCLASSIC\x26searchRoot\x3dhttp://thedirtyshirt.blogspot.com/search\x26blogLocale\x3den_US\x26v\x3d2\x26homepageUrl\x3dhttp://thedirtyshirt.blogspot.com/\x26vt\x3d-4805136975002384833', where: document.getElementById("navbar-iframe-container"), id: "navbar-iframe" }); } }); </script> <script type='text/javascript' src='http://track3.mybloglog.com/js/jsserv.php?mblID=2008010808021427'></script> <script type="text/javascript"> var bt_counter_type=1; var bt_project_id=5746; </script> <script type="text/javascript" src="http://tracker.icerocket.com/services/collector.js"></script>
Shaaaaaame! Shaaaaaame!
Sunday, May 28, 2006


Now that my brain's cleared up....eep.


AAAAAAHHHHH!!!!!! CAAAAAARRRRLLLL!!!!!! I'M SO SORRRRYYYYYYY!!!!!!!!!!!

This is coming from the bottom of that measly quivering clump I call my heart. (And just because it's measly and a clump doesn't make my guilt any less real.)



posted by marguerite @ 9:57 AM

|

Yeah, Baby
Saturday, May 27, 2006

You know your mother is worried about you when she surprises you with multivitamins.

+++

Children don’t like me. They’re not completely terrified of me, but I seem to give off some sort of vibe that doesn’t agree with them. Whenever I go near a kid, the kid always takes a few steps back and stares at me with disapproval. Granted I’m not all sunshine and rainbows, but it’s not like I have boils all over my face or had asked them where their meatiest parts were.

I went to Probe yesterday to pick some papers up, and there was a children’s party going on. I received so many looks of contempt that evening (not counting the ones from my supervisor, who seems to think of me as a casualty), and I couldn’t help but feel weird about it. What am I presenting to these kids that’s making them upset? Cheche Lazaro was at that party. Cheche Lazaro brought a clown. Shouldn’t the Cheche-clown tandem be the object of their suspicion rather than me sitting on a chair? (I hate clowns, by the by. Vile, vile humanoids.)

Maybe it’s my history of staring at babies. I like holding staring contests with babies, especially on the MRT, because they make great opponents. (They hardly blink, and they’re fun to look at.) Maybe that’s why kids are wary of me. Maybe they had taken me on when they were younger, and they remember me somehow. Staring contests do take long—long enough for my face to be ingrained in their memory. It’s a horrible thought, my mug haunting them all these years, so that could really be it.

Or maybe kids are just psychic and they know I’m an asshole.


posted by marguerite @ 3:19 PM

|

The Chinese Like Their Pee Jokes
Friday, May 26, 2006

I’m in Ateneo right now and I don’t recognize anybody.

+++

Being that I have been chin-deep in shit since Saturday, yesterday’s almost-impromptu bum-fest with Em, Crisgee, Kimie and Carl Clem at the HegEMoness' lair was very good for me. Saw Chinese Odyssey 2002, Run Lola Run and the American Idol finale while gorging on chocolates, fried chicken and pizza, yes, yes. Basically, everything was done with lovely languor. Yes, yes.

+++

It’s hard to blog when you don’t know what’s happening to you.


posted by marguerite @ 12:59 PM

|

Distraction
Tuesday, May 23, 2006

Tagged by Mommy HegEMoness.

Instructions
1. The tagged victim has to come up with 8 different descriptions of their perfect lover.
2. He/she needs to mention the sex/gender of their perfect lover.
3. He/she must tag 8 more people to join this game and leave a comment on their comments saying they've been tagged.
4. If tagged a second time, there's no need to post again.

Gender
Male, please. If there’s anything my friends should know about me by now, it’s that I love my waffle dogs.

Description
1. He was floored by the same songs I was floored by in the Nineties.
2. He writes cleanly and coherently.
3. He has the same sick, dirty sense of humor I have. (Since sick, dirty humor has many kinds, I’ll be more specific. He can immediately identify sleaze in anything ordinary and announce it with a straight face.)
4. He treats me as an equal.
5. He is competent in a particular art field.
6. He knows when to overromanticize and when to be too matter-of-fact.
7. He has an unhealthy obsession with music and films.
8. He is good with his hands.

Tagging
1. Pubey Boy
2. Twinkle
3. Marie
4. Deps
5. Den
6. Carl Clem
7. Ralph
8. Anna Miggy


posted by marguerite @ 5:26 PM

|

And Thus Endeth The Practicum
Wednesday, May 17, 2006

Subic was disappointing. The buildings were bland and there were hardly any people. The only remotely interesting thing we did was visit the Olongapo crime lab, this dingy room on the second floor of a wet market, as makeshift as any other government office. (I’ll give them points for uniformity; I’ve never been in a government office that didn’t seem to be made entirely of plywood, didn’t have potted plastic plants on graying doilies and didn’t have overexposed photographs of the president or the mayor to convince its occupants that yes, you’re working for the government and yes, that makes you very, very dignified, so please, sit down and pretend to file something.) The only sign it was a crime lab were the little baggies of drug samples (the marijuana sample was missing, by the by) tacked onto a cartolina like a third-grade geology project.

Edilberto, the beer belly-in-charge, took the evidence from the rape case out of this broom closet, taking each piece out of their crushed brown envelopes with his bare hands. I saw the bottle of Pale Pilsen the victim drank from, the victim’s jeans, the Marine’s condom wrapper, etc. That was as fascinating as the trip got.

What saved the day were the hours I spent spacing out on the long, dark stretches of road. That did me a lot of good, as always.


posted by marguerite @ 11:51 PM

|

I'll Be Good, I'll Be Good

In a little while, I will be off to Subic with Probe to interview one of the witnesses in the Subic rape case. I'm looking forward to hearing his account, actually, since I've been transcribing interviews about the case for the past few days.

But veering off from any noble disposition left in me, I just have to say--

Woohoo. Rrrrrrrooaaaaaad triiiiiiiiiiiiiip.

+++

My perfect cousin from the States is coming on Tuesday, which is more or less bad news for me. She is perfect in the conventional sense of the term--beautiful, intelligent, articulate, well-mannered, socially-active, graceful, religious, virginal. She declines dates from Harvard Wasps. She is a cheerdancer for Duke University. She has been to countless third-world countries for missionary work. She plays wind instruments. She is nice.

Being that I am the cousin closest to her age, I will be obliged to hang out with her. It's a tricky assignment, considering that the moment I open my mouth, the girl will most likely melt into a neat little puddle of God-fearing goo. I think I have to start collecting safe topics for conversation this early. I mean, I want to be a good little cousin, too. *thunderclap*

Hm. Let me think. Topics, topics.

Topics.

Topics.

Topics.

Hm.

*thunderclap*


posted by marguerite @ 8:37 AM

|

Maliksiiiiiiiii, Masigla!
Monday, May 15, 2006

I took a ride with the Happiest Cabbie in the Country today. The short ride to Sikatuna was like a Batibot segment, with this chunky, cheery man at the wheel and me, the gullible wench, in the backseat, flinging exclamation points back and forth.

Gullible Wench: Sa Sikatuna Village, po.
Happy Cabbie: Sa Sikatuna! Sik-a-tunaaah! Okay, leeeet’s go! Yeheeeey!

Right after he displayed this fit of cheer, I began looking for the hidden cameras in the upholstery, my reflex action whenever I find myself in a questionable vehicle, which, as of late, has been happening way too frequently. But I couldn’t find a single lens anywhere and realized that, good god, this man is actually happy for happiness’ sake! Warmed my puny little heart, it did. He was a find.

HC: Sa Quezon Circle ba tayo dadaan, miss?
GW: Um, opo.
HC: Ooookay! Sa Quezon Circle na tayoooo! Yeheeeey!

HC: Kakanan ba tayo sa Kalayaan?
GW: (getting the hang of it) Opo! Sa Kalayaan po!
HC: Kanan sa Kalayaaaaan! Leeet’s goooo! Whooooo! Kanaaaaaan!

HC: Saan tayo kakaliwa?
GW: Ah…basta! Kabisado ko po yung daan!
HC:: Nak-u-po! Kabisado mo, a! Oookaaay lang yaaan! Kaya natin yaaaaan! Leeeet’s gooo!

He was just so…happy. His rash driving did make the Bright and Shiny cult vibe a touch more alarming, but I’m just glad he exists. Irrational, child-like optimism is a dying art.


posted by marguerite @ 5:59 PM

|

Weather Girl
Saturday, May 13, 2006

syet!
This is me and Mitch feigning absolute terror (or feigning feigning, anyway; it's not like we really tried) at Sir Egay’s launch. Photo courtesy of Vittorio, with whom I spent most of the night conceptualizing and fawning over things. *Oreo’s patented yelp of titillation*

The caption wrote itself...
Margie: Syet! Mitch! Don’t move!
Mitch: Hah? Bakit?
Margie: Si Charlson!
Mitch: Hah? O syet!

+++

Tomorrow is Mother’s Day. My, my, don’t we feel uncomfortable?

+++

I am so happy about the rain. I’ve been smiling a lot just because of the weather—cool, dark, dangerous. It feels much better to stay indoors, now that it’s become more cozy. I love keeping myself warm with blankies, coffee and—just so I can piss Twinkle off—a steamin’ slab o’ liempo. Mm-mmm good. And staying outside isn’t bad, either. I love being under umbrellas. And walking against strong winds in a trenchcoat. And shivering. And getting stranded. I love getting stranded. It doesn’t matter where, as long as I’m with a few friends, there’s barely any food and we’re all beginning to panic. I love getting stranded.



posted by marguerite @ 11:46 PM

|

Red Light
Thursday, May 11, 2006

I’ve only been on national television a few times, and each time, I was shown doing something very unflattering, including street dancing in costume, introducing a music video I hated (which led me to flub my lines and say “crap” in front of god-knows-how-many televiewers) and losing to some porky prick on a student quiz show. Twice.

This time was no different. Right after I posted the previous survey, the Gameplan people grabbed me and brought me out to the street to play Green Light/Red Light or Pepsi/7-Up with a few guys from the crew and Ramon/Rigor Mortiz.

I won the first game. Still, it wasn’t pretty, with me running around in a skirt with a horrible scab and loosened band-aid for everyone to see. I don't think I will ever be seen on television doing something dignified. I can't wait till it airs.


posted by marguerite @ 5:49 PM

|

Filipino Chewy Balls with Sweet Sugar Sauce, Demmet.

My producers are ignoring me. It seems that everything’s been transcribed, researched, organized and delivered, so I’m left here pretending to add a few extra paragraphs to some research article so that the computer won’t be taken away from me. There’s still an hour to go before Manong en Manang Merienda pass by the office with their goodies, an hour to go before I can space out in the garden on my favorite broken Monobloc chair, karioka in hand.

Time’s begging to be slaughtered. Thus…

You turn on your iPod. Shuffle. Play. The songs that come up answer the following questions in order. (You can’t change the questions and you can’t skip songs. Be honest.)

1. How does the world see you?
Be Here Now - Oasis
“Kickin’ up a storm from the day that I was born. Sing your song for me, one from Let It Be. Open up your eyes; get a grip of yourself inside.”

2. Will I have a happy life?
Live Forever - Oasis
“Maybe I just want to fly, want to live but don’t want to die. Maybe I just want to breathe. Maybe I just don’t believe.”

3. What do my friends think of me?
There She Goes Again - The Velvet Underground
“There she goes again, she’s out on the streets again. She’s down on her knees, my friend. But you know she’ll never ask you please again.”

4. Do people secretly lust after me?
Little House of Savages - The Walkmen
“Somebody’s waiting for me at home. Somebody’s waiting for me at home. I should have known. I should have known. And somebody’s got a car outside. Somebody’s got a car outside. Let’s take a ride. Let’s take a ride.”

5. How can I make myself happy?
Please Please Please Let Me Get What I Want - The Smiths
“Haven’t had a dream in a long time. See, the life I’ve had can make a good man bad. So for once in my life, let me get what I want. Lord knows it would be the first time. Lord knows it would be the first time.”

6. What should I do with my life?
Country House - Blur
“He’s got morning glory and life’s a different story. Everything’s going Jackanory. Touched with his own mortality. He’s reading Balzac, knocking back Prozac. It’s a helping hand that makes you feel wonderfully bland. Oh, it’s a century’s remedy. For the faint at heart, a new start (try the simple life).

7. Will I ever have children?
Epic Problem - Fugazi
“I’ve got this epic problem. This epic problem’s not a problem for me. And inside, I know I’m broken, but I’m working as far as you can see. And outside it’s all production. It’s all illusion, set scenery.”

8. What is some good advice for me?
(Probably) All in the Mind - Oasis
“In the end, we’ll leave it all behind, because the life I think I’m trying to find is probably all in the mind.”

9. How will I be remembered?
World in My Eyes - Depeche Mode
“Now let your mind do the walking, and let my body do the talking.”

10. What’s my signature dance song?
Tired - LCD Soundsystem
Uh, it’s mostly unintelligible screaming, so um, yeah, there.

11. What’s my current theme song?
Pushing Up Daisies - The Colourfield
“You’ll never know how close you came from walking down the hills of pain. You’ll never know how close you came. You’ve only got yourself to blame. You’re pushing up the daisies.”

12. What do others think my current theme song is?
Burn, Don’t Freeze - Sleater-Kinney
“Always thought that hell was the only place hot enough to melt our hearts into a locked embrace. There’s something so safe about a lack of air. The only way to make sure that you’ll always be there. (I force my eyes open. Now who has changed? I feel different, so different today.)”

13. What shall they play at my funeral?
Hallelujah - Jeff Buckley (Wooooaaaaah. Freaky.)
“Maybe there is a God above, but all I’ve ever learned from love was how to shoot somebody who outdrew you. And it’s not a cry that you hear at night. It’s not somebody who’s seen the light. It’s a cold and it’s a broken hallelujah.”

14. What type of men do I like?
One-Armed Scissor - At the Drive-In
“Dissect a trillion sighs away. Will you get this letter? Jagged pulp sliced in my veins. I write to remember.”

15. How’s my love life?
This is a Fire Door Never Leave Open - The Weakerthans
“And I love this place, the enormous sky, and the faces, hands that I’m haunted by, so why can’t I forgive these buildings, these frameworks labeled Home?”

Where's my karioka? I want my karioka!


posted by marguerite @ 4:27 PM

|

Bruha
Tuesday, May 09, 2006

Photobucket - Video and Image Hosting


Photobucket - Video and Image Hosting


Above are two photographs of Carl Clem and me entitled “Sick and Beautiful (One)” and “Sick and Beautiful (Two),” respectively, taken during last night’s Mondays-ing. Who falls under which adjective is up to you, lovely blog-hopper, although I do suggest that you consider Carl the latter. ‘Tis better not to invoke the Empress’ wrath.


posted by marguerite @ 9:05 PM

|

A Friendly Exchange
Sunday, May 07, 2006

A couple of good nights out with friends followed by a big family get-together makes for great contrast.

I attended my grandfather’s 82nd birthday dinner last night, and save for my usual banter with Whammy (whose mauve shirt, red mohawk, pink strawberry shake and orange curry made him look like one warm blur), I think the person I had the longest conversation with was the waiter. There was this one other person who tried to talk to me, my uncle Gabby’s latest significant other, but she pretty much killed any chance of rapport we could have had between us.

“Hi, Margie,” she began, looking me up and down with those huge eyes of hers. “I’ve heard so, so much about you. So much.”

Okay, that scared me.

“Hi! Really? (laughs good-naturedly) Like what?”

And she looked at me nervously and never said a word to me again, unless you count that one time when she asked me how my soba was.

Now, I don’t think declaring your knowledge of someone and then completely refusing to divulge said knowledge is a good way to start a conversation. And I don’t think staring uneasily at that someone you supposedly know so much of for the rest of the night is going to help. Nothing good’s going to come out of that. Man, she’s weird. Or devious, I don’t know. I tried so hard to think of something gracious to say after that, but I couldn’t.

“Oh, the soba’s very good.”

It was. I swear.


posted by marguerite @ 2:25 PM

|

Prodigal
Thursday, May 04, 2006

I went back to Probe yesterday. Fortunately, the rest of my intern batch was still there, their stay having been extended for one more week. And since the new batch of interns started their work this week, my transition shouldn’t be too bad, though I know it won’t be the same. There are only three newbies—two very timid girls and one huge cross-dresser whose name switches between Allan and Lea depending on his/her mood. Allan/Lea is very easy to talk to, probably because I’m such a fucking fag hag, but the other two look way too petrified. I promise to be friendly!

Would unsolicited buko ice-drop breaks be as fun with a new set of people? Will any of them hold my hand and pat me on the back if and when I break down from all that transcribing? Could a huge cross-dresser fill the void my favorite pimply pervert internmate will leave behind? So many, many questions.

But apart from the newbies, things at the office are still the same. I’m still assigned the same transcription and research jobs. One of my producers still calls me Helper No. 1 because she can’t remember my name. I have yet to transfer a call without messing up. Cheche Lazaro still looks at me with great uncertainty. And that other producer who smells like baby throw-up still smells like baby throw-up. It’s good to know that some things have remained constant in my life.


posted by marguerite @ 2:23 AM

|

the girl


Marguerite.
23.
Pasig City, PH.

Damned the man, saved the empire.

Email.

speak



sound


happy trigger

www.flickr.com
This is a Flickr badge showing public photos from the_urgency. Make your own badge here.

exits


detour

tunay na lalake
happy mondays
biskochong halimaw
panitikan
fuggers
q magazine
gorillamask

lookit: vistaprint

Make your own rubber stamps with images uploaded from your computer!

droogies


mine!


Creative Commons License
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 License.

Free Blog Counter


bygones

April 2006
May 2006
June 2006
July 2006
August 2006
September 2006
October 2006
November 2006
December 2006
January 2007
February 2007
March 2007
April 2007
May 2007
June 2007
July 2007
August 2007
September 2007
October 2007
November 2007
December 2007
January 2008
February 2008
March 2008
April 2008
May 2008
June 2008
July 2008
August 2008
September 2008
October 2008
November 2008
December 2008
January 2009
February 2009
March 2009
May 2009