Death by Carwash

i have always thought that hanging out at a cafe would be such a great idea to relax, unwind and have serious discussions about any topic under the sun. there's this place along Ma. Clara Street and Banawe which combines a car spa service and a cafe. definitely a cool place to hang-out while having your car pampered and your stomach filled. i have never imagined that i would be hearing the lamest pick-up line in a place like this. The following are snippets from our conversation with Emilio (coz he somehow reminded me of Emilio Garcia) aka Mr. Squeaky (he has ___ ears...go figure)


Mr. Squeaky: hi! may i borrow your lighter? (looking at PJ and Cathy who were smoking)

Cathy and PJ (in unison): sure!

Cathy handed him the purple lighter which says "You turn me on..."

PJ: (in a hushed tone) basta bigyan mo rin ako ng yosi...

apparently, Mr. Squeaky heard her.

Mr. Squeaky: sure sure. kuha lng kyo. (offering the pack of Marlboro lights to the three of us)

PJ: thanks thanks! i'm ok with this.

Cathy: no thanks! still have mine.

Me: nope. i don't smoke.

we go back to our conversation on why we like/dislike activists. Mr. Squeaky watches over his car which was currently being washed. after a few minutes, Mr. Squeaky who is facing opposite our table, swung around and started talking to us.

Mr. Squeaky: are you guys from here? (obviously trying to catch our attention.)

Cathy and PJ looked at me at the same time.

PJ: no we're not. except for her. (pointing at me)

Mr. Squeaky: you live nearby? (questioning me)

Me: Yeah. near Welcome.

Mr. Squeaky: Welcome-Rotonda?

Me: Yup.

Mr. Squeaky: ah malapit lng. so where are you from? (looking at Cathy)

Cathy: Valenzuela

Mr. Squeaky: and you? (looking at PJ)

PJ: here din sa QC.

PJ's face started contorting into Chuckie doll's expression (or should i say chaka doll?)

Mr. Squeaky: so do you frequent this place often? nagpapacarwash din ba kayo?

In unison: No!

Ms. Squeaky: shouldn't you be out on a gimmick? it's Friday night.

PJ: this is our gimmick.

Ms. Squeaky: malaki ang sasakyan ko. kung gusto nyo punta tayo makati or something...

PJ: no thanks!

Cathy: Chaperone sya eh. (Eyes darting towards me)

Me: susundo pa ako eh.

at this point, its already obvious that we do not want to talk to him. and that all efforts to woo us to go with him are fruitless...pointless.

Mr. Squeaky: so where are your boyfriends? (obviously fishing for information. well sorry to say but he ran out of worms for bait)

PJ: just around the corner.

Mr. Squeaky: just around the corner?

PJ: Diyan sa tabi-tabi...

by now, all our faces have imitated the shape of Chuckie doll's face. if somebody took a picture of us, they would probably say that we were the next victims of Sadako in The Ring. We immediately asked for our bill and left. this guy was not going to give up.

Never have i seen such courage or stupidity for that matter. why can't boys be sensitive? (i call them boys since calling them men would entail that they already have the capacity to think clearly and be sensitive to issues) i can never truly understand their penchant for trying to pick up women este girls in unexpected places. what has the world come to? are there no good finds left? i am now starting to believe that my theory is true...the good guys are either already taken or gay and the ones left are spoiled.

IMPORTANT NOTE:

to the women out there, be cautious. if you see a guy around 6 feet tall, wearing a fit polo shirt which is halfway unbuttoned and he somehow resembles Emilio Garcia and has the attitude of Johnny Bravo, run towards the opposite direction.

oh btw, he has _____ ears.

to mr. squeaky, if by some chance the universe conspired for you to read my blog, STOP what you are doing! you are ruining your reputation. take some classes. maybe the guys from queer eye can still make miracles for you. be assured that i am praying for your soul. you have died in our eyes due to your ultimate bulok style. rest in peace!