Forgive me father for I have sinned.
I admit. I’m not the type of person who usually watches TV. I refuse to have a TV set in my room. I’m so anti-TV. I like to shelter myself from the evils of cheap, commercial culture for the masses. The television is for people who cannot entertain themselves by doing "normal" stuff. The only time I’ll make an exception is whenever I watch a movie (DVD) or when Paris Hilton is there (that’s not watching TV… that’s getting education) or whenever I watch CNN.
For the past 3 weeks now, I found myself watching the TV more and more. Normal TV shows for normal people. I’d say I now spend around 1 hour a day watching TV. Although yes, you will never see me sit in front of the damn set for 30 consecutive minutes, I’ve discovered all sorts of shows… and commercials.
There’s this one commercial that has been all over the place – McDonald’s Beef Prosperity chu chu thing. I swear it’s on every 5 minutes whatsoever.
I have a love-hate relationship with McD’s. Generally, I despise em. After all, McD’s is to blame for all the god-forsakened fat people all over the world. McD’s is pretty much the mecca of all fatdommeccas: this is where the word FAT got invented.
Anyway, look at Asians as an example.
For years, we have been stereotyped as the chinky-eyed, short shorty midget-y, submissive, fuckwhoring bitches to dirty-old-hairy-fat-white-trash gorillas.
While Asian females are fantasized upon as real,
live, human sex toys, Asian males fall into 2
categories: either you’re a kung-fu flighting, black-
belted, ching chong man ala <insert Asian action
person here> or the short yet lanky straight-A
But ever since McDonald’s invaded the continent decades ago, things have changed.
Whenever I go out to the scene these days, there’s an abundance of tall Asian kids. I’m just as tall as my brother, and I’m 5’9. He’s 15 years old and still growing… and no doubt he’ll be taller than me. The heights 5’11 and 6-foot is starting to become extremely common. Fine… perhaps the odd 6-foot-7 male types are still rare here but everyone seems to be tall these days… particularly the young ones. Heck, I even know 2 girls who are at least 6-foot tall. And yes, they’re Filipino natives… originally from rural areas.
And there’s only one reason to blame. McDonald’s.
So yeah — this Beef Prosperity commercial made a huge impact in this household. Everyone had seen it for god knows how many times. The total airtime it had in our heads is probably longer than a 180-minute movie.
Early this afternoon, my mom, my sister and I had enough. Right after watching yet another commercial, we all had this desperate craving churning in our stomachs.
We didn’t even bothered to beautify ourselves. Usually, we’ll never step out of the house gate wearing house clothes. It is a must for us to look our very best even if we are stepping out a mere 2 inches outside the house. Today was an exception — to hell with taking a shower, spending 2 hours on what to wear, etc… we just have to taste the nectar of that that well-publicized Beef Prosperity thing.
Wearing plain house clothes and armed with the Visa card, all three of us asked the driver to bring us to the nearest McDonald’s, about 5 minutes from our house.
My mom stayed inside the car while my sister and I went in. I swear to god, going inside the doors of McDonald’s was like entering the gates of hell… errr a frying pan. My brain was filled with mental images of lard and frying oil.
I had intense hallucinations that I’m turning into the Nutty Professor, with the Ronald McDonald’s mascot giving me the fuck-you finger.
As we arrived to the counter, we placed our order.
* 8 Beef Prosperity Burgers (2 for me, 2 for my mom, 1 for my sister Grace, 1 for my brother, 1 for my other sister Genie and 1 for our driver)
* 1 Double Cheese Burger (for my sister Grace)
* 2 Large French Fries (for Grace and me)
* 1 Large Twister Fries (for Grace and my mom)
* 2 x 6-piece Chicken Nuggets (for Genie and me)
* 1 Oreo McFlurry (for Grace and my mom)
* 1 Large Coke
The verdict: Beef Prosperity burger was a complete disappointment. It had bad odour.
As soon as you unwrap the thing, it reeked of
this onion smell (because of the onions), similar to
sweaty, filthy armpits of Eurotrash people.
Also, there was way too much pepper on it. Beef prosperity indeed — it was prosperous with spices you’d think it came all the way from India from the Tsunami.
I know I’m not supposed to be making sensitive jokes after 100,000+ people died but seriously, they should’ve named this the Tsunami Leftover. The burger must be one of those things that reached our shores.
The only good thing that came out of this mini trip to McDonald’s was the fact that I bought one of those happy-meal child toys for $1.03 (58 Filipino bucks).
My sister and I have been looking for big, fuzzy cellphone charms that you can hook at the bottom of your cellphone. Currently, I have a small cat thing I got from a flea market. I used to have the $75 Gucci handbag cellphone charm but I lost it in Moscow. And now I want a bigger, fuzzy doll-like cellphone charm.
Both of us fell in love with the mini stuffed toys the first time we saw them at the counter. There’s about 18 of them I think. I got the gold monkey while my sister bought the pink pig. They’re kinda cute-ish. But alas, they didn’t fit my phone.
Oh good lord. I am so careless sometimes.
My dad wanted to print some documents so he went to my room to pick up the docs on my printer. While he’s waiting for the paperwork to print, he saw my blog in its full glory on my browser window. He read some of the entries… I’m sure not all, cause I was gone for a few minutes. When I came back, he said how I’m very bitchy and I’m wicked.
Eeew eeew eeew. I’m not bitchy. I’m nice and sweet.
I can’t believe how he can just read my blog like that. I mean, it’s not displayed on my monitor cause I have other browser windows opened but he just fiddled around and opened my blog.
I just hope he’s tipsy enough not to remember the URL. The last thing I want is my dad to be reading my journal.
I’m 18 (+4) years old for god’s sake.
Back to business.
I had my regular glycopeel cleaning and facial done earlier today, as well as a long-overdue power peel session. God knows what kind of germs and how many dead skin cells I have on my face, and I haven’t had a facial since I arrived.
The receptiobitch at my doctor’s office was such a liar.
My appointment is at 4PM so me and my sister left the house early. At around 4:05, we were trying to find a place to park. Little miss Pinocchia called to follow up and asked "It’s already 4:25PM, do you still want to keep your appointment?". Then my sister said, "Yes, we’re already here in the parking lot, we’re just looking for a place to park."
When I looked at my watch, it was around 4:05 or 4:06. When my sister looked at hers, it was 4:06. When she looked at her phone, it was 4:08. When I looked at the car, it was 4:10.
Me and my sis quickly rushed to the clinic, which was about a 1 minute walk from the parking lot. When we arrived, we said we were there for our appointments and my sister looked at the BIG CLOCK on the wall. It said 4:10.
Clearly this receptiobitch was lying scum. 4:25PM my arse. She must be newly-hired because the previous receptiobitch has been gone for some time and I assume she got fired. Besides, it is perfectly acceptable for us to be late, as long as it’s no later than 15 minutes… actually, who cares. It is perfectly acceptable for us to be late. Period. Ok… well.. maybe within reason. The head honcho (owner) is, Dr. Vicky Belo, who is my sister’s best friend’s aunt. We can go to all of her clinics whenever we want, ask whatever we want and get everything that we want. She didn’t call me her best-dressed patient for nothing. Whatever watch or clock we use (as long as it’s not the car’s cause it’s fucked up), we were still in the time frame.
Since we were at the mall, I needed to do some shopping. Nothing major, just a quick trip to flex my card. I bought a new alarm clock because I’ve developed resistance to my Nokia. I also bought some cigarettes, 2 books by Sophie Kinsella: Shopaholic & Sister… and Shopaholic Ties the Knot, 2 belts, 2 plain black t-shirts, 1 plain white t-shirt and 2 sleeveless tops (same style, different colors) at Topshop. Boy I love Topshop. It’s soo dirt cheap it’s not even funny. Topshop is the ultimate in cheap clothing, like GAP. You can have racks and racks of their clothes, use them once, twice or thrice and donate them to charity. You can never have enough of their stuff. Really. Go to Top Shop.