Thursday, May 06, 2010


I've always thought that if there is a place on earth that deserves a cataclysm of Biblical proportions, it’s Alabang in Muntinlupa City. In Alabang, everyone is a douchebag.


That kindly old lady who sells vegetables in the market puts a few twigs and pebbles in her plastic bags of mung beans. That tricycle driver who looks like your favorite uncle will charge you a kidney for a short tricycle ride. And the taxis—Jesus weeps! You won’t find a taxi driver here willing to use his fucking meter.

It’s not just these wretched parasites either. Pedestrians jaywalk with impunity everywhere here. Residents leave their unsegregated garbage on every street corner. I wouldn’t be surprised if there are gangs of burly men with crude weapons roaming the dirty streets; gangs who get their kicks sodomizing strangers and who, like in the story of Lot, wouldn’t be swayed even if you offer your hot, virgin daughters to replace your guests’ business class reservations on the man train (proving how much the Old Testament puts a premium on responsible parenting).

On the other hand, remember what they say about prison: survive a year in even the most horrendous gulag and the rest of your sentence would be a breeze. And that’s exactly the reason why, for the last couple of months, I’ve been getting the hang of this appalling place. I’ve been living here for more than a year now and I’ve already adapted. Nothing Alabang can throw at me can shock me anymore.

Or so I thought.

I was walking home at an unholy hour last night. The dogs were lording it over the dark streets. As I came upon our hot pink apartment building, I noticed that a door was open on the ground floor, casting a column of light across the road. And then I saw it, a sight that caused my senses to reel, a revelation so terrible my innards seemed to turn to mush. I quickly Tweeted:

2:18 AM OMG! The old Korean dude downstairs is drunk and naked!

That he was. At first I didn’t understand what I was seeing. After a few minutes of staring at that abomination like a rabbit hypnotized by the headlights of an oncoming car, I finally realized what it was: the dude was lying on the floor, nekkid, his legs spread apart, his schlong pointed at me like an accusation of God.

2:21AM The door is wide open and he seems to have passed out and I can see his bits!

It took me a full minute to Tweet again.

2:22AM You know how they say Koreans have small dongs? This one is FUCKING HUGE! I wash my eyes!

I ran up the stairs to our apartment as if the Devil knew my name and locked the door. My first thought was:

2:26AM All I have is my Nokia E63 but Imma gonna try to take a picture…

I looked around and found the perfect alibi to go back downstairs:

2:31AM Pretending to take down the trash, hurhurhur…

Trash bag in hand, I slithered down the two flights of stairs like a ninja. The old dude’s door was still open. He’s still clothed in the celestial glory.

2:38AM He’s snoring. Now’s my chance…

I whipped out my phone, set the camera to Night Shot, and clicked a couple of times. Then:

2:44AM Fuck!

The dude stirred. With supernatural speed and stealth, I made my escape. Silently locking my door on the third floor, I took out my phone to check the pictures I took. I heard the door closing downstairs.

2:49AM He closed his door! I don’t think he saw me lurking. But I failed to get a good pic. Crappy E63 phone camera.

I was disappointed. On the Internet, my son, you must post pictures or your claims are but lies. I had to make do with what I have then.

2:50AM Mission failed. But this is still worth a blog post in the morning

So without further ado:


  1. Sweet Mother of Jesus is Lord Movement! I started believing your story after the first paragraph. You didn't need to include photographic evidence. *weeps*

  2. But this is the Internet. You'd have called me a liar if I didn't post pictures.