Gone Sex and the City

June 30, 2008

I love Sex and the City because it’s the one movie I’ve seen where women can be their frank, bawdy, witty selves without having to apologize to anyone or go lesbian. The movie, however, did not only glorify contemporary womanhood and the challenges that go with the territory; it turned New York City into The City.So, I’m thinking: if I ever get over my fear of big cities, I think I’ll go live in New York. It may be huge, and strange, and intimidating, and awfully scary, but it’s the one city I could think of that pulsates with so much life. If one city could be the personification of an adrenaline rush, New York is it. And just to take this plan further, I googled how one plays tourist in New York, and came across New York City Sightseeing. One company, CitySights NY, actually offers a hop-on, hop-off double decker bus tour of Sex and the City Hot Spots! Hop on, hop-off means you can get off the bus at any of its stops, wander around as much as you want to, and get on the next bus the moment it stops at where you are. Naturally, all the hopping off and on have to be done during specified tour hours, but so long as you get to take all the pictures you want, who’s splitting hairs over the hours?

But I digress. Going back to that tour, for only $42, you get to gawk at Carrie’s apartment stoop, visit the SoHo gallery where Charlotte worked, or actually shop at The Pleasure Chest where Charlotte got ‘Rabbit’. The tour lasts three hours, and covers more than 40 locations used in the movie, including the church where Samantha met The Friar and the furniture store where Aidan designed tables and chairs. And should it ever rain while you’re on this tour, you get to keep warm with the ponchos your guides provide.

I wonder if our tour companies here offer similar concessions, or better. I often see busloads of Japanese and Korean tourists alighting by the Banilad fruit stands. They look happy to have their pictures taken with the mangoes, pineapples, bananas, and other fruits on display. It’s different strokes for different folks, however, so I could only surmise they find our local fruits worthy of oohs and aahs the same way I’d ooh and aah over Carrie’s apartment stoop. I’d take New York City sightseeing any day over these local tours, though. After all, In New York, says Carrie, things can easily go from bad to cute. I cannot, for the life of me, imagine pineapple or banana going from bad to cute. I just can’t.

 
 

Google and Payday

June 25, 2008

When all else fails, when your house burns down, or when you’ve grown so fat you cannot fit into any of the jeans you own, don’t despair. There’s always Google. Seriously, there’s always Google to see you through menstrual cramps, bad hair days, and afternoons spent waiting for the clock to strike six.

I learn something new every day, thanks to Google. This time, I learned about payday loans. A payday loan is a short-term loan you can take out to tide you over til the next payday. Generally, a payday loan is between $100 and $500, and is payable in two weeks. What of interest? On most loans, it’s $15 for every $100 borrowed. There are lots of payday loans available online. I’m not sure exactly how they work or how you can get one; but wouldn’t it be great if there are payday loans here, too? On second thought, perhaps it is already here, only it comes with another name: 5-6.

The Problem with RA 9504

June 24, 2008

 Have you heard of Republic Act No. 9504? I was making cash advance computations the other day when it occurred to me how this new ruling would complicate my life. For one, it’s supposedly effective 15 days after publication in papers of major circulation. When we called up BIR and DOLE, however, we were told to wait for official word from the tax guys before implementing the new round of deductions.

The problem with waiting is that no one knows when BIR would give the go-signal for the implementation. It could be July or November. By then, taxpayers the whole archipelago over would have paid monthly taxes that do not reflect the revised exemptions. This poses a huge problem to people whose job it is to pore over your payroll because by year-end, you would have overpaid several thousands in taxes.

Of course, there’s always the option of asking BIR for a tax refund, but who knows when you’ll actually get it? A site visitor, Gerry Barcelona, pointed out employees get their refunds from their employers, and employers in turn, can claim their refunds from the BIR. Well and good, I say.

The thing that gets my goat, though, is that thus far, there have been no clear guidelines for the computations. From the BIR site a few days back, we got a’hold of  Draft Regulations bearing the subject: Implementing Pertinent Provisions of Republic Act No. 9504, “An Act Amending Sections 22, 24, 34, 35, and 79 of Republic Act No. 8424, as amended otherwise known as The National Internal Revenue Code” Relative to the Withholding of Income Tax on Compensation and Other Concerns. This document indicated that for 2008, companies must have two tax tables: Jan - June and July - December. I’m not sure if the regulations and computations there would be fully carried out, but just so you know, this and this are how the adjusting computations are shaping out to be.

The full BIR link: http://209.85.141.104/search?q=cache:PQ1Nww0agzoJ:ftp://ftp.bir.gov.ph/webadmin1/pdf/41197RR%25202008EXEMPTION-2.pdf+RA+9504+implementing&hl=tl&ct=clnk&cd=8&gl=ph

Happy Birthday, Hellraiser!

My 21-year-old sister remembers mother in the oddest of ways. Last Saturday, I found her weeping.

 

“What are you crying for?”

 

“I’ve fever.”

 

“And you’re crying because of that?”

 

“No. I’m crying because I have fever, and it’s terrible that I should be having a fever without a mother.”

 

Stifling the urge to laugh, I gave my sister aspirin and told the helper to find her a hilot. “And look for the motherly type,” I could not resist adding.

 

It’s been 17 years since Mama died. We’ve had more than our fair share of fevers, asthma attacks, dog bites, and other illnesses – real and imagined. I would imagine she’s up there right now, grinning like I am, because really, my sister gives in to nostalgia in a strange, strange way.

 

I never really got to know the woman my mother had been, but she must have been a kindred spirit. She insisted I learn to read by age four, and was adamant that I be introduced to Jack, Jill, Little Miss Muffet, and the wide array of ghouls in local folklore. She took Papa’s karate tournaments and nunchuck competitions in stride. She ran in a major national race once and lost; but Lolo said she looked glorious in shorts. She believed carnivals are essential to child development; I was the only second-grader I know who was quite blasé about riding the ferris wheel and seeing magicians decapitate their assistants. When a cousin asked why we did not own a jeep like they do, she answered we were saving up for a helicopter.

 

Today, I look at an old picture of her in a black shirt that says Hotshot and a hideous 80s hairdo, and smile. It’s hard not to, not with her grinning at me like that, as if to say, “I may have never lived past my 28^th birthday, but boy, did I ever raise hell! Don’t disappoint me, woman.”

 

Happy birthday, ma. May you run more miles up there on roads that stretch on and on and on legs that go even longer.

 

Quick Cure for the Ailing; Salamat, Riva

Whenever I feel a little low, I take mental trips to my hometown, to the stories of my childhood and teenage years. These trips do me a world of good because they remind me of the steel my strength is forged from. They remind me where and what I come from. In high school, I took brilliance for granted because almost everyone in the exclusive all-girls school I went to had it. It was only much later, after I’d seen more of the world that lay outside Bohol, that I realized how awesome the girls I went to school with had been.

 

The wry, witty Maxim columnist Nada-o-Nil used to walk about our school grounds wearing the thickest horn-rimmed glasses ever. Back then, she was Dinah Rose Baseleres, and she had huge teeth, and the steadiest, most unnerving gaze ever. She’d been ugly, then; it took some time for her looks to catch up with her brains. I’ve always maintained, though, that with a mind like hers, the good Lord could have given her all of Nanny Mcphee’s warts and she’d be none the worse for the wear.

 

Today, it was Riva who cheered me up. I read what she wrote, and I thought: heck, if we survived Mrs. G and Sister MaJud, we could survive anything — strangeness and strangers, heartbreak and loss, insecurity and pettiness, even walking on coals.

 

Salamat, Riva.