Pilosopong Waitress

Last night, I decided to have dinner at a local bistro. So I ordered for some pasta, bread and caldereta, which is a spicy beef stew.

The pasta was okay, the bread was good, but the caldereta lacked some sort of creaminess. So I called the waitress over:

"Miss, may cheese ba 'tong caldereta 'nyo?"

And you know what she answered?

"Ay ser, beef po iyan."

Tinginingning nito... pinolosopo ako. Hahaha... I burst out laughing.

How's My Body?

On Sunday noon, I woke up with a really sore body. I played in a badminton tournament the previous day despite my still-injured ankle, and I had to be extra creative in terms of court movement in order to play a decent game (hopping around on my good foot to minimize the stress on the injured ankle...). I and my partner managed to emerge as runner-up in our pool.

Anyway, I took inventory of the various aches and pains. It doesn't look good.



That afternoon, an orthopedic-friend had a look at my ankle and reprimanded me for subjecting my foot to such torture. Hehehe. I'm a really stubborn person when it comes to sports.

I'll rest the foot this week. Hopefully, I'll be able to run and sprint by this weekend in time for the next ultimate frisbee tournament. Hahaha!

Ain't I a really stubborn guy?

More Injuries

My right foot is currently confined by an ankle brace (with metal rods and all). And I've got a long bruise on my left shin.

Syet. Ang tanda ko na. I'm getting injured from my various sports more often. The body cannot cope with spirit. Hahahaha.

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Maybe it was just the excitement on the prospect of our team finally being able to be pool champions for the last tournament league this year. My game last weekend was great. I had fantastic catches, no... make that really awesome catches despite the hard playing conditions brought about by the pouring rain and water-drenched field.

But my ecstasy lasted only for about half-an-hour because after that, I found myself lying down on the ground/mud soaked by about two inches of rainwater.

It was a good play. A quick short pass from the endline, then I made a running cut for a midfield pass. I must be going too fast because I overshot the pass by about a head. My reflexes were faster though --- seeing that the pass will zip by behind my head, I planted my left foot on the muddy ground and stepped backward using my right foot. I twisted my body to face the pass, arms outstretched over my head. I caught the pass perfectly.

All that took maybe less than two seconds.

Then I found myself trying to regain balance. My center of gravity was then way behind my feet. Gravity took over, tipping my whole body with my right foot as the tipping point.

And that's when I heard a loud snap comning from my right foot. A few tenths of a second later, I was lying on my back on the field 2 inches deep in rainwater. I can feel the water puddle tickling my ears but I can't feel anything on my right foot.

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The guys had to carry me off the field. A nurse attended to me. Two hours later I was finally able to stand by myself.

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By midnight, my right ankle has already swollen to the size of a lemon.

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One last thing: while running after an opposing player, I was so close behind him and we were running too fast that his cleats grazed my left shin. Left a long shallow gash on my leg.

Ouch.

"Old?"

After a whole afternoon of frisbee training and team dinner last Saturday at Fort Bonifacio, a couple of my much younger teammates (age difference = 10 years) asked me if I wanted to join them later in the night at Metrowalk for some drinks.

“Sure, no problem. I don’t have anything planned for tonight anyway. Text-text na lang,” was my reply.

After the team adjourned at 9 pm, I hanged out at a friend’s pad in Serendra which was nearby. No sense in going home if I’m going out again after an hour or two (that’s one of my gimmick philosophies, which is why my car trunk has an emergency bag of gimmick essentials --- shoes, clothes, etc). My friend has been raring to show me his Rockband set-up at his condo unit and have me join on a live jam with his condo-mates. After a quick shower to remove all the mud and grit from the afternoon’s games, we started rocking away…

… Three-bottles-of-wine-shared-by-four-people later, an SMS came in on my mobile phone.

“Ey Stip! Nandito na kami sa Metrowalk. Wru?”. Damn… it was already 1253 AM. And they just started?! … mental thought --- these guys will finish around 3 or 4 AM, and then there’s the after-drinks-hot-sabaw-meal which means I’ll be home by 5 AM… I hate to admit it, but I’m too old already for those kinds of parties!

Replied: “Here at Fort at a friend’s place. Nearly drunk. Hehe. You guys go enjoy Metrowalk without me.”

Drat… I’ve never felt my age until that time.

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One of the differences between being ‘young’ and ‘old’ is that ‘old’ people have more responsibilities to look after and commitments to honor. On that particular gimik night, I was designated driver for my aunts the following day for a visit to my grandparent’s graves at Loyola. So naturally, I can’t party into the wee hours of the morning.

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Once your teammates-slash-friends denote you as “Tito” or “Papa” instead of the usual “kuya” tag, then the age gap is really significant.