After attending a children’s party Jerus, Ruth Marx, and I decided to walk around Glorietta. Jerus and Ruth Marx are two of my closest high school friends. Ruth Marx is a boy, but I’ve been calling him Ruth Marx for years on end because he’s the only person other than me who knows who the heck Ruth Marx is. Ruth Marx has a special talent for singing–for one whole year he sang the national anthem during morning assemblies back in grade 6. When he begged off one day because he was sick he was reprimanded heavily by the authorities. Jerus, on the other hand, was the sweetheart of the nuns. A few weeks ago when we visited the convent of one of our nun friends they were still kilig at the prospect of this tall, bearded guy with huge veiny arms being in the convent. Ruth Marx and Jerus, along with Namtab Pots and Toms, have been sustaining me through fellowship training. Literally, sinusustentuhan nila ako ng pera at pagkain. They had to, or they would never hear the end of my incessant whinings about how peniless I am.

While walking along Greenbelt Ruth and Jerus decided they wanted to drink coffee. I tend to shy away from these coffee/desert things. Greenbelt means expensive stuff, and being in the present state of having to scrounge for food I reserve my extremely limited funds for something more basic, like rice. Also I am not a big desert person. My favorite desert is pakwan.

“J.Co tayo!” was one of the suggestions. I haven’t eaten J.Co Donuts, and when we passed by the store the whole population of Makati was lining up for J.Co Donuts.
“J.Co sounds bastos,” I said. “It sounds like masturbation.” Obviously it was just me, being stuck in grade 6 forever.
The lines in J.Co are reminiscent of the lines in Go Nuts Donuts back in 2004, and the lines in Krispy Kreme back in 2010. When we were medical clerks Go Nuts Donuts opened a huge store in Robinson’s Ermita to much acclaim. We would go on decking during duties just to line up at Go Nuts Donuts. A few months ago I went to Go Nuts Donuts to buy 2 donuts for myself.

“Pabili ng 2 donut,” I said.
“Gawin nyo na pong anim para may libre pang anim!” Donut Girl said, pimping the promo.
“Anong gagawin ko sa sobrang sampung donuts?” I asked.

Back in first year high school one of the fantastically perplexing conundrums posed to us by our first year science teacher was: “Nasaan ang center of gravity ng donut?” Before any of us could give an opinion we were sent home so we could mull over it overnight. It was, in effect, a take-home exam. The next day everyone stretched their hands up to orbit to recite their intellectual discourse on where the fuck the center of gravity of a donut is.

“It’s a trick question,” Kenkerenken said. “A donut has no center, the hole precludes any center of gravity, hence a chocolate frosted donut has NO center of gravity.”
Ms. Gloria just crossed her arms and smiled smugly in rejection of the stupid answer. Kenkerenken tossed back her hair to show her annoyance.
“Of course it has a center of gravity,” Burkholderia Cepacia said in between gritted teeth. “You just let a donut stand up vertically and then you get the center of gravity.”

I kept on playing Brick Game.

“Wrong,” Ms Gloria declared with glee and self-satisfaction. “You need to cut a donut at one point, stretch it out so it transforms into a long piece of bread, then you put your finger in the middle. THAT is the donut’s center of gravity!” Lightning thunder muzak.
“Imposible,” Kang said. “Mapuputol ang donut pag ginawa mo yun.”

That fantastically perplexing conundrum never ever figured in Physics, UPCAT, NMAT, or in any aspect of our lives.

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