The almost-fight for bunk no. 6.

So, earlier: I wanted to grab a quick nap during my lunch break. I registered for the nap room and was assigned to bunk #2.

It was occupied when I got in; some guy who couldn’t bother following simple numbered assignment. So I went to an empty bunk, #6.

Almost as I was about to doze off, some guy came in, woke me up, and said he’s supposed to take bunk #6.

Oh boy. I said, in a reasonable voice (I hope), “I was assigned #2 but it’s occupied. So I took #6.”

“But I’m assigned #6,” he said, with the nasal twang of a queen ready for a bitch fit. I got off, carried my shoes, and climbed to one of the upper bunks.

When I got there, I realized I left my phone in bunk #6.

“Excuse me,” I said in a bored drawl. ” Can you pass me my phone?” It was under a pillow, I pointed out, without bothering to go down and help. I merely stretched my arm a little to get my phone.

Bitch.

But after lying down again, I realized I will be able to get some sleep because some rude queen decided he’ll get his bunk like some privileged princess. I stood up and left to return to the production.

Woke up like shit

BEKS. YOU DON’T INTERRUPT THE NAP OF PEOPLE YOU DON’T FUCKING KNOW.

I later had to apologize to my trainees for being extra snappish after lunch break. They certainly didn’t deserve that.

But really. Don’t wake people in a nap room just so you can get a bunk. That’s horribly rude at hindi mo yan ikinaganda, teh.

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Hotel Arizona.

Today in random Americana:

The city where the office I report to is located is a nice, laid-back Arizona city, Gilbert. The place is clean, the people friendly, and the area looks as harmless as a sleeping puppy. Except for the hotel right across the street.

After the department director spoke to the training class, there was a mild distraction when one of the employees excitedly mentioned that there was a shout-out at the hotel.

“Now you know why we didn’t put you there,” the trainer told my colleague and me. Apparently, that hotel occasionally has these violent incidents every couple of months.

Liberty Tax

“You’d see SWAT there sometimes,” another employee gleefully joined in. “The rest of the city is nice, but that place is so ghetto.”

Two months without photographic evidence.

Rodj pointed out how some people can fill out a photo album (with selfies) in a week. (Or a day, even.) But while we were still dating before, we never had many photos.

We had very few photos together. If we compile all our photos, we won’t even fill three pages. We did a mental inventory: One or two in Baguio, some from Bataan. (He said photos with big groups do not count.)

So, no, we don’t even seem to have photos of us when we were still boyfriends.

That we were talking about these things while watching Deadpool (something in the movie triggered the conversation) on the eve of Valentine’s, our hands held, weirds me out a little because it’s several layers of surreal.

Deadpool movie still

But surreal is nice, too.

Dream: Troubled planes and fire breaking out.

In my dream, I was probably ten years old and was walking home. I was only about 100 meters away, and about to enter the street where my house was.

Bomber from "Barefoot Gen"

A large military plane was flying overhead in circles. An unseen but nearby radio was broadcasting of engine failure. Something horrible was happening. Ahead of me, a fire suddenly broke out and quickly spread to block the nearer end of our street. I won’t be able to enter.

I ran to the next street, hoping to run along it towards the other end of our street and go around to reach our house. But when I reached the next street, the fire has already spread there.

I ran to the next street. And the next one, and the next. But the spreading fire beat me every time.

At that point, I woke up, distraught. I remembered the horrible atom bombing sequence in Barefoot Gen.

A jeepney ride with Heidi Klum.

The other night’s dream: I was walking with Heidi Klum towards a jeepney stop. We were BFF and all.

We saw Claudia Schiffer walking ahead of us towards the stop, but then she took a turn and went someplace else further.

We got in a jeep and I told Heidi it’s awesome to see a known celebrity taking public transport. She laughed and said it wasn’t a big deal. She said usually takes the jeep late at night and people don’t recognize her.

I was about to pay when Heidi said she already paid for herself.

When she said that, I thought, “Huh, hindi man lang nang-libre.” I didn’t notice when she paid the driver; I thought that was rather sneaky of her.

Heidi Klum

So basically, in my dream, I was a little insulted that Heidi Klum paid her jeepney fare without telling me and didn’t even consider offering to pay for me. Some BFF she was.