Unless a magical shit has turned my friends into midgets suffering from bad case of hair loss and some dental disease, I’m assuming all of these profile photos of bald, toothless beings on my friendster list are human babies.
What happened to the Hong-Kong-domestic-helper-turned-slut shots? Or the I-have-a-PVC-sunflower-infested-hat-and-I’m-holding-it-like-my-life-depended-on-it poses? Or the I’ve-been-to Europe-and-you-haven’t pictorials? Gawwd where are my friends?
These babies aren’t my friends. They’re my nieces, my nephews. I bet one day they’ll show up at my doorstep and accuse me of that-godfather-who-never-went-to-their-Christening where their parents who were thoughtful smart-asses wrote my name on the sponsor list in spite of me and my absence during the rites.
So I wonder why they are posing as my friends.
My friends party hard! My friends eat COSMO for breakfast and chew VOGUE for lunch. They dine with VISA. They chain smoke. They drink too much coffee and live on tequila. They don’t watch Tagalog movies (atleast they pretend not to). They pick-on my bad English. Among
Perhaps they’ve left. Some infant on a crying-fit vigil is standing-in for them. Some new born shitting on his diapers has taken their place. Maybe they’re all gone.
Maybe I stayed behind.
30 March 2007
Labels: Too much thinking.
