I stopped myself from writing a blog entry predicting that of course our Hidden Valley tour would usher in a huge storm because something could be said about self-fulfilling prophecies, because true enough after writing such a prediction last September Ondoy came on the exact day that we had our yearly outing. It was the batch outing remarkable for separating the batch into contingents–I was part of the Merville contingent then, ie, those who ran in the flooded SLEX and found refuge in a stranger’s house in Merville along with Vampirella, Lloydie, Tessieloopagooparoop, Fulet Esplana, JJL, and Hurricane Katrina. JD-Lu and others were the Batangas contingent; Papa Ruter, Mom, and BL were the Market Market contingent; Pyro and Tits the callroom contingent; and Djana the UP Diliman contingent. This year there are huge rains everywhere, except in Hidden Valley. Hah. Again, HAH.
In any case prior to the event I’ve taken it upon myself to give unsolicited advice just in case we get stormed upon–to Vampirella: Don’t wear pekpek shorts. To Hurricane Katrina (who wasn’t able to make it after all): Don’t wear pants with magic kamison fabric. To the batch: we’re all going to be together riding a coaster, so if we get stranded in Merville no household would take in all 23 of us.
Lloydie, Tits, and the rest started to hike towards the Hidden Falls, ie, the 30-minute walk to Paradise Island, and I promised to follow them, and because I easily get confused with paths and such I decided to rest on a poolside bed. I woke up after 2 hours and it was already dark, missing all the peekchurifications. How Moses of me.
Back to the cottage that night was the obligatory liver-pickling alcohol session with wailing at the videoke. I failed this time at pretending to be drunk, as JD-Lu rammed everything down my throat. My special ability in drinking is I get extremely dizzy without losing awareness of the ongoing events. In my stupor I heard Uni-Horned Beef Jerky Alanis Whore singing “King of Pain” by Sting as covered by Alanis Morissette. “Ay ano yang kantang yan,” everybody asked. Deadly doses of alcohol turned everybody into a potty mouth:
Anal Verge: Hoy Tits uminom ka.
Tits: Ayooooko. Di ba sabi sa Harrisons, in the male population 60 grams of alcohol…
Anal Verge: POOOOOOTA uminom KA!
The next morning, post-coital and all with vomitus everywhere, was the obligatory batch peeekchurifications in every single bleeping corner of Hidden Valley. No bridge, pond, pool, corner, rock, flowers, or grass were left un-pictorialized because we are so full of ourselves. And because everything must be karir we had to have some costume of sorts. The theme this year is Chinese Burial or Sex Cult From Hell:
And thus begins the unveiling of our TCBAJFMAS characters. With peeekchurs!