The booksignings will be: The Gathering at the Rockwell Tent on July 9, in Fully Booked The Promenade in Greenhills on July 10, and at Gateway Mall in Cubao on July 11. There will be readings, book signing, an art competition, and a raffle where you can have the chance to have dinner with Neil Gaiman himself. The signing sessions are open to everyone.

For more info you can check out the site or join the mailing list.

(To tell you the truth I wasn’t going to post this because I didn’t want even more people going to this event -I’m greedy, yes- but I felt guilty, so I did. Tch.)

So I was in campus today and they had these sheets posted on boards, asking for opinions on the GMA and Garci fiasco. I stood there, reading the statements scrawled across the sheets. There were a few that made sense, but the ones that really stood out were the ones written in bold, scrawling letters, saying,

“OUST GMA!”

But really. Step back and think hard about this. If the people revolt, pull another EDSA Revolution (the nth one, how many have we had again?) and successfully force GMA to step down or be impeached, who will replace her?

Noli de Castro.

Please, please, please, not that idiot.

Like today, for example. I was on my way back home from Ortigas when I took a jeep. Sliding into my seat without mishap, I passed on my fare and settled down for the ride. Sitting across from me was a guy who didn’t seem to know what to do with his eyeballs — they were bouncing from one girl to another. I resisted the urge to lean over and poke him in the eyes.

But I digress.

Next comes a woman who was just bursting out of her top (we’ll call her Bountiful Betsy). Now Bountiful Betsy, a creature that God smiled upon when the day came that he handed out bosoms, didn’t seem to know how to keep her hand to her chest when bending to get into a jeep.

So in comes BB and if it wasn’t for the noise pollution you would’ve heard the collective intake of breath from the opposite sex. With the many people in the jeep and the narrow pathway, BB had to mince her way to her seat which was conveniently further in, right beside the guy with roiling eyeballs. Roiling eyeballs which immediately fastened on the assets of the poor chit.

And as the jeep hurtled down the highway like a racehorse with a burr in its saddle, I watched the guy attempt to engage the woman’s breasts woman in conversation.

Unfortunately my stop came so I had to leave before I found out if she was going to slap him in outrage or give her his number.

Like I said, I love commuting in Manila.

Apparently our offers to contribute to the financial cause was useless. We don’t really care about whether we get paid for this, we’d have joined the local paper if we did.

Next thing you know, we’ll have Yahoo! breathing down our necks and telling us what to write.

Ugh. Thanks a lot.

It’s the second jeep I’m going to take to get home — luckily I’ve got Karen, my daily commuter buddy with me to deaden the pain. We wait at the side of the road for a jeep to pass by, like hookers waiting for the jackpot. Since it’s rush hour, there’s a crowd to contend with and it’s always good to keep in mind that everyone is your enemy and there is no such thing as mercy.

Finally, a jeep with just enough space to seat two people slows down before us. A vicious fight ensues as people rush towards the jeep like rabid wolves towards a particularly tasty treat. For some particular reason, God smiles upon a specific pair of students and helps them shove their way into the jeep.

Elbows fly, ribs are bruised, toes are stepped on. Egos of those who lost the fight are crushed, but keeping true to the Filipino way, the losers brush it off and gird themselves for the battle when the next jeep stops.

The vehicle then releases a loud belch of terrifyingly black smoke, which for some reason exactly fits the image I have of the locust plague descending upon the Egyptians’ crops.

To further celebrate the destruction of our environment, the driver decides to pop in one of those horrible tapes jeepney drivers seem to be given upon taking the “So You Want To Be a Jeepney Driver” Cosmo test. He cranks up the volume to ear-shattering proportions and I find myself slightly hypnotized by the awful Chimpmunks rendition of Missy Elliot’s Gossip Folks.

Soon, though, the discomfort of being squashed between Odor man and Medusa wrenches me back into reality. As the jeep flies along the highway breaking the sound barrier, Medusa’s hair comes to life and begins attacking my face, leaving no surface un-whipped. My hands come up in self-defense and I begin to claw through her hair to get to my face, something that I fear I might never see again if I don’t save it soon.

Breaking through for much-needed air, the jeep screeches into a stop in the middle of the road which makes Odor Man automatically raise his arm (the one near my face) to grab the handle on the ceiling. A scent of indescribable horror then smothers my already-battered face, threatening to suffocate me.

Thankfully, Odor Man realizes it’s his stop, so he leaves the jeep to mercifully let me live another day. Breathing easier, I wriggle in my seat, trying desperately to be a little bit more comfortable. A man then slides into the seat that Odor Man had just vacated. Apparently this one doesn’t have parents — no manners whatsoever. The files on his lap, of course, have its edges pointed towards my arm, viciously stabbing me with unrelentless force.

A sneaking suspicion that he might be doing this on purpose to gain more seating space lurks in my mind. Like the female I am, I defend my meager territory. With my arm on a ninety-degree angle, my arm slightly goes up and I slam my elbow violently into his ribs. He hisses in pain and turns to look at me with outrage. I return his glare with a wide-eyed, helpless look that I’ve already perfected, the look that has the lyrics of Gwen Stefani’s I’m Just a Girl all over it.

The enroacher tucks his tail between his legs and wriggles away from me, fearing the clumsy girl who might next destroy his manhood accidentally. No space is worth that, is it?

Karen, sitting across me, catches my eye and smiles sympathetically. I make this distorted face that makes me look like I’m suffering with gastric pains, which elicits a surprised look from the people beside her.

Settling in for the rest of the ride, I look around the jeep and spot a man who seems to be taking too much interest in the cut of my blouse. I bristle with feminine outrage and my features shift into bitch mode. As his eyes drift upward to my face (you gotta love these men) he realizes that I’m actually on to his oh-so-subtle ploy. His eyes skitter sidewards.

I give him five seconds.

Perv Man’s eyes sneakily slide to my face again and clashes with my accusing glare. Yes, I was staring at him that whole time, knowing that eventually he would look again. My eyebrow climbs even higher into my forehead. Finally the scum-that-he-is admits defeat and opts to look at some other hapless female.

The remaining few minutes are spent in blessed silence. Chipmunk 50 Cent tinnily belting out “It’s your birthday” is ignored.

Now like all things Filipino, the news shows had all the gory, inconsequential and stupid bits of news, interspersed with news that actually seemed important (But who cares about that, hey? I mean really.). And both shows also had a theme going on — since it’s Holy Week, the news was peppered with all things holy. In the Filipino’s case, all things related to religion, even if it’s absurd.

Absurdity #1. GMA’s show does a bit on how one congregation refuses to follow the Catholic rule of not eating pork during the Holy Week. Camera sweeps on the subdivision, pan on the church. Zoom in on walking, ordinary Filipinos, zoom in, zoom in, look they’re eating pork. Gasp, dismay.

They interview the priest of the church. The priest expresses his disappointment in his flock and urges them on national television to see the error of their ways. There is a hint of fire and eternal damnation in there but it is only discreetly (and tastefully) mentioned.

On a sidenote: Can you imagine the ribbing this poor priest gets from his fellow priests when he meets up with them for a bible session? “Father, seems like you can’t control your flock, haha! Now my flock…” /end sidenote.

The camera switches to a man standing outside and when asked why he eats pork on Holy week he replies, “Eh kasi, pag kumakain ako ng baboy sa Holy Week, sumasarap yung baboy! (Because when I eat pork during Holy Week, it tastes more delicious!)” *insert sheepish hi-mama grin here*

This is the apple in the garden all over again.

Absurdity #2. ABS-CBN battles GMA by focusing on a congregation that bravely forges on in the religious front in the midst of brazen carnal pleasure and orgy somewhere in Pasig (or at least I think it was in Pasig, I can’t remember right now). Apparently this place is peppered with motels with a seedy reputation for illicit affairs — and right smack in the middle is a church.

Just like the GMA news show, camera sweeps on Pasig, zoom in on the church, camera goes further in, voila it’s a congregation of people praying. Camera backs out, focuses once again on the neighborhood, zooms in on motel billboards with names that the people back in the news station blur (which totally defeats the point of zooming in on the board). Camera catches sight of a foreigner and a Filipina and violently zooms in on them.

Sidenote: I really felt bad for the couple. I mean, here they are walking and you’ll never know, that might’ve been all they had planned for the day, but thanks to Holy Week they’ve been shown on national television as carnal motel addiks.

scenario:
Foreigner: Excuse me miss do you know the way to the church? I have this sudden urge to pray.
Filipina: Oh, oh okei I help you, I show you di way
Foreigner: Thank you

*GMA FOCUSES ON THEM WITH ALARMING ALACRITY*

Filipina’s husband watching GMA: Wow dis couple ah.. Beri naughty.. ahehehe… WADDAPAK DAT’S MY WIFE!

This brings to mind Sodom and Gomorrah.

Absurdity #3. GMA manages to throw in a tear-jerker of a Filipina bold actress turned decent. They show her dressed modestly in a long-sleeved pink top that showed nary a hint of cleavage. Questions were asked, a look of anguish, a penitent glance at the camera and a plea for forgiveness was given. She even managed to add that she felt bad for the bold actresses who still went on being erm, bold.

First we had the apple, then Sodom, now Mary Magdalene.

Folks, if someone accused the Filipinos of not knowing our bible stories, I have the right to cry in protest.

On other non-Holy Week news, both local news shows also had bits on two children poisoned thanks to their mother giving them sour milk (camera zooms in on distraught mother, crying that she didn’t know it was sour) and also an interview with a high-ranking policeman who, when questioned about the safety precautions they were taking against bombers, replied (this is not verbatim, my mind was still swamped with Sodom and Gomorrah),

“We are ensuring that we prevent the anti-terrorist team success.”

Or something like that. The gist of it is that the police do not want us safe from the terrorists, no, we do not have to depend on the terrorists’ capability to hurt us — our law enforcers will do that for them.

Filipino news channels — who needs soap shows?