Two weeks and a hundred thousand pesos
Of course, not another Father’s Day post. I’ve greeted my Dad already, and he’s contented with that. Lol 
I know a lot of you kept on coming back for this long-awaited geeky testimonial. (I thought I promised to rant about it 10 hours after fleeing from Slumberhouse.) Though (uber)lame as I see it, here’s my long post about a bizarre unlucky boy who ended up paying all his parents’ bills for the past two years.
Imagine, you are standing in the middle of a growling crowd filled with good-looking (and not so good-looking) people whose eyes are all glued to your wide forehead. You are palpitating, nauseated, and severely exhausted because you’re afraid to spend the remaining 200 pesos for food since you just borrowed it from your kapitbahay just to reach Quezon City. You haven’t slept a bit, eaten a bit, flossed a bit–all for that one hundred peso jackpot question and a special package you’ll never expect to be that freaking awesome. And then you realized…
Neil to Kempee de Leon: “Oh c’mon… No!”
Why’s mom already jumping and screaming?
Two weeks have passed already, But until now, I still couldn’t believe that I actually won one thing my mom has been dying to grab for the last 22 years of her trying to join Eat Bulaga and other game and variety shows on television. Yes, for 22 years she was among those leg-aching, sweat-looking, stench-infiltrating hopefuls who are patient enough to fall in line for hours. And I hated her for doing that. Not anymore.
That day was like the other day before we call that day a ‘day’. No, I don’t even want to call that a day since that was an unfortunate day, like this day. Am I confusing you? It was a Tuesday, and I was supposed to tell what happened last Monday. May Day. M’aidez. Blah.
HELL DAY
Flashback. May 29. I was cramming for my narrative report due on Wednesday (though I’ve been trying to finish everything during weekends where I was least busy.) I had not slept yet and burning with fever. Worse, my headache just pissed every letter on the keyboard off and jammed my compositions such as ‘boa constricter’ or ‘bowbob’ from The Little Prince. Though during those unholy dawn hours my half-sleeping brothers where supporting intrapersonally, I knew I could finish the narrative on time. And that time was 6:30 am. Very nice. My armpits were already stinking and my hands were sticky like glue. No, paste—the gawgaw-based ones. I was wasted.
But after a few seconds of clicking Print on the menu bar, I stormed my mom’s pocket on top of our rice dispenser. “Mommy, wala na pong i—“ The light weight of my mom’s wallet stunned me. We have no printer ink. And we have no money to buy even the cheapest ink refillers. Now, how can I submit this to our English critic who happened to be a kilometer and a half away from our place on time?
Feeling that kind of mixed drainage and desperation, my mom rushed out of our house hoping that our belief to Good Samaritanship can materialize at a short period of time. A fifty peso bill is all I need, I said to mom. She knows I cannot face the world with a swelling prick head and stinky armpits so she did the door knocking. But it took us two hours for that short period of time. Worse, it was tears, not a fifty peso bill, that greeted me when mom forced herself back in our house with an empty hand. No one would lend us such an amount. I was doomed. (Later I found out that mom was crying in the middle of the road every time she was being denied.)
Instead of worrying about the INC on my class card, my family pushed me to take the remaining hours for sleeping even if I really wanted not to miss how will Anna Theresa Licaros bag another Miss Photogenic award on this year’s Miss Universe. Speaking of sleeping, I pinged my internship supervisor and called it quits for an excusable absence since my fever was really worsening and that I can hardly read the characters on my phone.
Fast forward, I woke up around 3 pm and there boomed my brother playing PSX games on our desktop PC and my mom feeding our lovebirds outside. Realizing that nobody’s worrying about my project, I dug out all my thingies in case I might have slid a peso or two to suffice my print jobs and my one-way jeepney fare to Indang, Cavite. And I did. Only that it was but a Hongkong dollar. Ten HK$ to be exact. Convert it and you’ll get 60 pesos; more than enough to buy me a garlic chicken with 4 extra rice (which I used to order).
4:00, I sprinted from our house to Dasma Bayan just to catch the early closure of money changers. Err, not exactly running 5 kilometers but the tricycle drivers will do the the rest of my calorie burning. Even if I might collapse at any second I lose breath, I cared the least. I need to submit my narrative report at the soonest time possible. And I was starving.
Yet Time and Fate (and hydrochloric acid) were not charitable to me. I arrived at an already closed money changer at 4:45. Though not yet 5 according to my atomic clock-synched wristwatch, they closed their doors at a feverish, headache-ish, hyperacidish, sleeplessish weasel who only wanted to have a 50 pesos to print his project. The next money changers did the same damn cruel deed. I so wanted to cry at that moment, my knees were ready to take any chances of public fainting.
But no! There’s still SM Dasmarinas! I still have a chance. I don’t care if there were only a finger countable number of jeepneys per 15 minutes that go straight to SM. I don’t care if another tricycle driver would not start his motor at the most convenient time. I don’t care if it’s hard to count my fare comprised of so many 25 centavo coins (wala talaga akong pera). I need my 50 pesos! BADLY!
Though my watch was already screaming ‘It’s over now, dude. Go home. No one will receive your project but those ghosts inside the faculty room’, I insist. If I can do it now, why tomorrow?
“Sorry po sir, we need at least your school ID for validation. Balik ka na lang po.”
Boom. I lost my ID somewhere in Pala-pala. I cannot go back to our house and spend another 30 pesos for my transpo. I have no money left but ten Hongkong dollars. The desk lady of the money changing stall shook his head while I bowed my forehead and tried to think happy thoughts so I could fly off to Neverland.
Frustrated, exhausted, nauseated. I was out of my mind when I stared at the Super Lotto ticket box at a PCSO Lotto outlet inside SM Dasma. The box was empty—probably a thousand might have already betted their numbers and left me clueless if I could still have as much money as I want to for the morrow deadline. I picked a Megalotto stub and pulled a ballpoint to slash some numbers. But for no apparent reason, I just returned the stub to its box with an unfinished slashing and headed towards the jeepney terminal outside that gray cruel shopping mall.
The tricycle I rode towards home lost its grip for no good reason, too. Though I paid the driver appropriately, I didn’t leave the place without bashing his carelessness of how to stop the tricycle when someone says ‘Sa tabi lang po, para’.
My day was a blast-off. My fever got raging hot. My head’s like being punched repeatedly by a 4-year old toddler. My eyes were swelling due to my body temp. My legs weren’t moving for cramps. I have walked too much, ran too much, stood too much, but all I got were sorry faces from my mom and my brothers who, until that time, were still penniless and hopeless. I said to myself, Alas, I’ll end this day with an early deep sleep! I hope there’s still tomorrow.
Then I heard my phone vibrating…
We arrived late at the Broadway Centrum. Seemed like my unlucky jinx didn’t leave my back just yet.
We left the house at the earliest time possible. I wasn’t able to sleep still (OMG, I’m still sleepless after the phone call from Eat Bulaga that I was among the contestants for the On the Spot May 30 Episode), I wasn’t able to take a decent breakfast, and I wasn’t able to ping everyone that I’m gonna join this competition (except for a few online friends). No, pinging everyone for making it to the studios was not a good idea (felt like I was boasting and everything so I zipped).
The start of the day seemed to spoil everything. Is this a sequel of my series of bad luck yesterday? Aside from forgetting some items at home, traffic from Imus, Cavite to Baclaran was annoyingly hellish. It was Wednesday, and Wednesday is Baclaran Day and Baclaran Day is Wednesday Worship Day at the Baclaran Church. Totally ironic to earn that religious favor for our misfortunes even at the day of screening. But no, I was thankful enough that Eat Bulaga didn’t pick those aspirants who, during the initial interview, went on throbbing about their sick/dying parents, their working student lifestyle, among others that spelled ‘miserable life’ in bold capital letters. They picked me, the seriously no-gooder at sob storytelling. Thank God, losing my brother’s college schooling for not getting any scholarship is sincere enough to convince Eat Bulaga that I need that money badly.
The building was already freaking filled with people. It’s 10:30 am already, and no kolehiyala-looking dudes and dudettes were scrambling for excitement. Reaching Eat Bulaga at 8:30 sharp was mandatory, and yet I was 2 hours late. Lucky me.
But I just felt like the aura got changed in a snap. The security guards let me sign on the list of studio contestants and entered the studios with an expensive Baccalaureate polo (courtesy of Kuya), black pants from Baleno and new shoes. Thank you graduation ceremony.Oh my Jinx. You’ve finally left me alo–
NOT! Le jinx didn’t end its nasty antics. One, I left my ID pictures inside my bag which was deposited at the snobbish security guard who bashed me for being so careless and forgetful. Two, I wasn’t called by the EB staff for the second interview. Three, I made a mistake on inputting my reason for joining in English (I found it really elitist that I am so-so rich but had the nerve to join a contest for the masses). Four, I didn’t finish filling up my form for the complete identification. Five, I was not oriented about the what-to-do-when-you’re-already-there. And six, I was drowsy and my tummy’s already rabidly boiling due to hyperacidity (I love stress!).
Here are the video links: PART 1, PART 2, PART 3 (My moment–IKEE!!), PART 4, PART 5 (The Finale.Laftoff, hir I come!)
Fact: The elimination portion was a no-brainer. That is, I lost my brain for three seconds for not knowing that Freedie Aguilar was really that darn popular. Good thing the hosts just felt like squealing the answers for (stupid) people like me (Thank you Francis M and Allan K)
Another fact: When the boxes were opened, I stared blankly at the audience. And then Keempee said “Look, panalo ka!” I just said “Oooh cmon. No!” 
Point blank. I didn’t notice they were already pulling me towards the center and that I was not wearing my school ID but my internship site’s. Nice! Wala talaga ako sa sarili.
Another crazy fact: Was I jumping? Yes. I was told to do so even if I nearly puked on the stage. My body fluids were really out of control. I was actually tripped by the platform because my feet got a sudden painful cramp.
Much crazier other fact: About Alan K asking me for the real score of the label ‘President’ in my ‘Presidential Scholarship’? I mean it. It’s just a label. But you know what? I was like ready for a whistleblow but Anjo suddenly started blabbing. Good thing, though.
This is the craziest fact ever: I was a heaven lot happier when I finally found out that I’m gonna bring home the laptop. True. Who among you doesn’t want to have a dual core notebook for free, huh? And oh, I forgot to thank Eat Bulaga for the prize and the job opportunity (job offer sa 24 Oras? Ikee!). THANK YOU EAT BULAGA! I even forgot to greet all my friends and relatives here and around the world. Grabe.
Imagine, a sleepy head who once refused to make some mood on auditioning for Eat Bulaga’s On the Spot, who badly wrote a diary of himself in front of the public on the spot, who came late to Broadway Studio, and the one who forgot his requirements for checking, bagged that freakind hundred thousand pesos and a notebook. It was really amazing that Mom was there all along. Dang, if it wasn’t here insistence, then I might be inside Jollibee toiling for all our humongous debts that I later found after winning.
Sigh. Now this is what it feels like winning. All sweaty, stinky, and itchy with hyperacidity. But who cares? We all felt like doing Joey de Leon’s Itaktak mo.
TRIVIA: Right after the contest proper, I had my check signed already. Tax-free. And the laptop? Airconditioning fresh! We didn’t finish watching the rest of Eat Bulaga since I badly needed to report for my OJT. And oh, look at my ID. It’s not my school’s. Hahah! Wala talaga sa sarili.
Now ko lang nalaman. I was mentioned on 24 Oras that same day. A friendly kapitbahay told me about it. Am not sure but if it’s true, Godliness! I hope I can really make it there…
MARAMING SALAMAT
To Juice and Jhed who first knew about it, thank you for your earliest support. To Billycoy, Christian, Kevin, Rens, Shari, Yna et al who do/don’t have the link-loving and documented my worldwide noontime bigtime triumph, thank you very much. ( I cannot track you all in case those who were not mentioned did feature me on their blogs. My apologies. I’m no good at bloghopping except when I find your posts really really sensible. 
And I was busy. Huhu. )
I know you are all uber disappointed that I didn’t even treat you during our most recent blogger meetup. Me and my juicy ATM. Here’s my biggest take. I can’t. I couldn’t. I still have a lot of bills to pay. Paid them already. And they’re watching over my account (haha). Probably next time. Honest. (Did I ever lie to you?) 
And to the rest of the blogosphere who congratulated me: charles, jon, benj, ann, japboy, jigs, hyro, andianka, lance, ate tin-tin, ymir, xienah, talamasca , rowjie, and melai, and to the rest of the world, familiar and anonymous, human or semi, local or international, THANK YOU EFFIN MUCH!
To my family and friends who flooded my Friendster account with lots of comments and testimonials (which are not always approved), thank you very much.
To my relatives everywhere who came out of nowhere, thank you for reminding me that you are one of our relatives. I reiterate: I didn’t win a million pesos, okay? Stop watching Wowowee or you’ll wait forever (ie. Two months and a lot of talking. Minus that juicy 20% tax. Hahahaha! Lol)
And to PinoyBlogosphere for allowing me to post this uber long article that I’ve been dying to write for the last two weeks. Ugh, my OJT.
My apologies. I am not creative at expressing my gratitude in writing. Really. I like it personal. So sue me.
wow! congratulations! how i wish i saw that episode where a fellow blogger is on the spot.. wahehe..
congrats!
Awe, thank you so much. Just click the pics with the ‘part’ watermarks if you want to see the vids.