death by country music

it was an improvement of sorts.

i got to the office 8:37 am, 37 minutes late but 22 minutes earlier than yesterday. that light breakfast conversation with god yesterday morning sure did help; anyone noticed the improvement in our early morning weather since i told that fuckface to do his job? yeah. no need to thank me for it, though.

so i got up earlier. so what. i was still late. knowing there's no chance in hell i can possibly catch the free bus ride for work, i flagged down a cab and braced myself for the 30-minute ride to the office. what do i do during these long (relatively long when you live in baguio) rides? i smoke and sleep. not at the same time, though. sometimes i annoy the cab driver. but this morning was different, i was the one annoyed. annoyed and irritated all the way to kingdom come i tell you.

i was annoyed by the devil's music... country music. having lived in baguio for 20 years now, i never got to train my ears and appreciate country music much less get accustomed to it. it's... how do i put this... it's... it's just so god damn irritating!!! folk music.. a bit tolerable. i mean, james taylor- simon and garfunkel- david gates folk music is fairly tolerable.. country music is just too much for me. it's a sonic assault for chrissakes!

the driver was so into this country shit too. he sang every word of every song played over that fucking country music radio station. well, every word, except when he spits outside his window. fucking unsanitary. we're battling a possible epidemic outbreak and he spits outside the window. that turd!

anyway, the music was suffocating me. i can't breathe. i can't even think right. so i decided to fight back. i saw this large "no smoking" sticker on his dashboard. aha! so i lighted a cigarette. if he's going to kill me with his music, then i might as well kill him with second hand smoke! yeah! die yah fucking garth brooks scum! die of second hand smoke cancer! and i was doing a good job at it too. instead of puffing the smoke outside my window, i let it out inside his cab. everytime i puffed out, he'll give me this slightly threatening look from his rearview mirror.

ooohh... i'm soooo scared. not!

"got a problem with this fuckface!? say what!? i can't smoke in your cab!? fuck you! drive!"

i didn't say that, but it sure made him drive faster.

finally, about 2 kilometers away from the office, we hit a deadspot. and for a few precious seconds, the radio was silent. ah yes.. finally, i said to myself. unfortunately, the driver couldn't agree with my newly found inner peace... so he turned the dial and tuned in to the next station that played.. oh shit.. songs from air supply! now how's that for suffocation? actually the radio station played an air supply song, then that song from karate kid done by peter cetera (argh!), and finally a song from minni fucking vanilli (double argh!!!). fortunately, we reached the office before we got to the "blame it on the rain yey yey" part of the song. jesus christ! i thought i was going to die... i swear, half my life flashed before my eyes and i was starting to see this white light.

good thing i tried to fight it off. i kept repeating to myself "stay away from the light... stay away from the light.." this ain't right. i can't die like this.. death by country and sucky 80's music overdose ain't right by any means.

so i got off the cab. got down on my knees and kissed the ground. i was starting to fervently thank god, complete with closed teary eyes and hands clasped, when the driver asked for 78 bucks.

so this is god's way of getting back at me after i called him fuckface yesterday eh? pretty nasty!

i'm out.