Dec. 1, 2010, a date to remember. It was then that my company “ORDO FOODS CORP.” celebrated our tragic Christmas-party-Hawaiian-theme. Pardon me, but what the fuck, Hawaiian-theme in this kind of weather? I mean, it’s not even “spring” for us to be too fucking exited with it. Only those sick-perverts profited from seeing those excess-pubic-hair of their respective desires, fucking assholes. Someone pls. help me drag them all to a dark pit, and burn them to ashes. It was my 4th time to attend this kind of event since I’ve been a part of this company, and this year sucks. We started late, as usual. The program was scheduled to start by 6 o’clock in the afternoon, I was till cooking by 9 o’clock, and it was by 10pm that they started the every-year-routine-party. Lots of talk, too much self-appraisal, vast hypocrite....I think I saw happiness hiding somewhere behind those dark clouds. Year after year my company’s so called “Christmas-party” plunge deeper from a much waited to a sucking routine habit that us individuals want to just get over it and run somewhere where there’s no fraud smiles and laughter’s...just pure friendship.
From the program to the games till the much awaited awarding...all was sleepy, all eyes was teary. Not from the joy of winning or sorrow of loosing, but from dullness. A program that was set to hyphen up us at that evening ends up in a monotonic diorama. I mean what the fuck is the problem with our custom type of party to change it from formal to fucking Hawaiian? Do our eyes need to see those fucking fake cleavages? Do we need to get sexually arouse to be happy that evening? Do we need to get laid just to focus on what they have to say? Fucking sex maniacs...better give them some help. What a great pretext, SHE had managed to hide their sick idea behind a tedious plot...I can hear Dave Mustain says “BORING” that evening....and everything still lingers in my head.
Andrew was awarded “best in chicken and best in backroom”. Hear me first, I for one Knows that He is one of the best by means of producing high quality chickens, and he can not only match Joelan’s product but He can surpass it. The problem is, “best in backroom”? Give me a break. How can some-fucking-guy who doesn’t even know how to close our backroom area in a flash and neat way beat the rest of us? I mean, I can accept it if it was Ed who won the title...he and only he has the capacity to beat me in the said station. Pardon my arrogance, but I’m not lifting my own chair here. No debates please. Tsk... Assholes!
It was Marvin who won the title, the sick-sex-addict-slash-bobo. What is the fucking matter with our management? It was bias when he won the title of our “2009 crew of the year”. Put down your pitch-fork and listen first. We all know that he was only promoted crew-chief because of his smooth tongue, nothing more, and nothing less. How can he win the title when he doesn’t even stand in the said station anymore? All of us were expecting Ed to win the title; he was the one who deserves the title...not some fucking adulterer. For all we know, it was based on performance, performance not on work but on bed. Fuck yeah! He maybe a veteran in our job, but for sure ED has surpassed all his ability except maybe in bed. If in this kind of competition one can manipulate the truth, how can we ever have a fair fight when all is based on sex? I admit, not all that happened that night is a catastrophe...only some. The food was great, kudos to Darwin, Jay and Roxanne, not to mention myself in here. As far as my quarter’s can remember, Darwin has managed to bring out a menu that suits our “boring-theme”. I just didn’t find some of our menu later that evening; I think others brought it home, a typical Filipino manner.
All our pictures were taken in our happiest pose, crazy smiles, daring position...If one may call it. One of our pictures was grilled in front of the senate. Curses were thrown, hatred cast against vast animosity. Reasoning was set aside, trust were broken, ignorance sprout from those naive heart. Words were blurted out impudently, I almost hear her scream. Can some just explain to me, how a friendly-picture can be so fucking worth debating for, I mean, what’s the matter with a not intended-to-hurt-your-fucking-feeling-pose in the picture. Should you really make a big deal just to have our attention, fine, now you have all of our attention. It sickens me whenever I have an un-necessary debate with dumb people. Why should we argue on an insignificant thing, there are too many problems this world has to discuss, not to mention again Willie Revillame’s case here, can we just pls. drop it off, and shut the fuck up. For now, the battle against the two ticks has subsided....but it won’t be for long. I’m sure; lady kuto is just summoning all her wicked strength. She’ll be back, maybe not tomorrow or the day after it but I’m sure she will... and I will be waiting.
Our program ended almost 2 in the morning...nothing more to say. I was half asleep when we got finished. It was almost raining...and it’s only a fraction of what Gaea is about to cast beyond our souls. She was only testing her might before she slams all her sorrow upon men. While some were dancing like Bacchus, others were drench in rain waiting for it to come to an end or trap somewhere between love and hatred. It rains down...and I hate it when it rains. It’s those times that I can feel mother earth contemplate with my sorrows. Some of us were force that moment to rush in the middle of clashing rain drops, soaking are souls with cold grief, saturated from the warmth of our beloveds, that instant, a thought pops out from my mind, sure to be lucky to snuggle beside her...but it was a far-fetched idea...and I must end this somehow.
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