eherm..

"Angelo, do you have gastric ulcer?"
"No, ma'am, I don't."
"Eh bat ang baho ng hininga mo?"

Such was the suggestion of Danilyn, my constant companion these days. I was mulling over whether or not I should consult my student regarding his nonexistent hygiene. Problem: Is there a tactful way of telling someone his breath smells like a rotting carcass? Dani's "brilliant" pronouncement is the only idea that's sticking out of my brain right now. She also recommended that I check the direction of the wind first before I choose the location for my talk with Angelo. That way, she said, I would avoid suffocation from his bodily gases.

I couldn't have found a better confidante. Dani is the kind of person who would show you the way to the comfort room if you said you needed comforting.

Febuary 14 is Educator's day in my school. An all-expense paid (?) outing to Eden Nature Park is the general plan. Attendance is coerced, as usual. However, the people who made those "generous" arrangements are the very ones I would rather push off a cliff than rub elbows with. They can't make me go. I'm NOT going. My job description only requires me to play the part of sycophant Thursdays, Fridays, and Saturdays. I have to keep a smile plastered on the front part of my head and do lip service for a paid maximum of 25 hours. No more, no less. The rest of the week I have to spend doing physical therapy to my aching face.

Don't get me wrong. I love my job. I love that I'm earning for something that I enjoy doing. That's my leverage. I don't have to like the people who churn out my bi-monthly wages, I just have to take their shit until my eyes water.

Suddenly faced with the BIGGER picture, I realize Angelo's noxious emissions are nothing compared to the GREAT, BIG PILE OF FESTERING SHIT that's being served out in the workplace on a daily basis.

Enjoy your meal!