Dear Diary,
Today went well. We awoke around 0730 AM and went to church around 1030 AM. There is a festival out back where the school grounds are located. I had to park on the pebbled lot. Singing in the main choir went well as some of the support system seemed to have disappeared – one couple off to their vacation in a socilist country and one pair off due to a loved one in the emergency.
I sensed nothing sad as I focused on trying not to pass out from donating whole blood yesterday at my scheduled 1130 AM appointment. I sat up front behind the president of a society. She had a cold unfortunately and couldn’t sing. I sang mostly alto but squeezed in the tenor. There’s no choir rehearsal this Thursday night.
After mass, we got the phone number and home address of Dad’s ‘bayan’ from Batangas, in the hopes of inviting them. But later on tonight, Mom said they don’t drive but take the public transit! In the middle of the exchange, the local politician spoke with Mom, who was sitting down at the VERY back rightmost pew.
But when I approached the scene, the bitch seemed to direct her attention to Cely S, the old lady with some dementia. The old lady greeted and hugged me. She said her son married someone for three months and got rid of her because she wouldn’t stop yakking. I told her my brother can’t seem to say, No to his Twit Wifey. Maybe he’s a hen-peck. Weak.
Anyway, Friday the ARC called to schedule me for next Saturday but since yesterday Saturday was so beautiful, I rescheduled and wouldn’t stop yakking with Raymond, who had to adjust the needle because my blood started to slow down midway. I knew he didn’t get it because it hurted. Then Maria T, who looks Filipino but is probably married to a Vietnamese finished me up.
So Saturday was slow. We waitied for ONE freaking hour from 0900 to 0950. The event planner had a meeting. Sheesh. So she seemed good enough to help my parents celebrate their golden year. I’m no good with putting things together and wanted to avoid conflict with the elderly folks and let them duke it out with a paid professional, who is Mexican but married to a Filipino. She has four children and two grandchildren.
Yeah, and so after the blood draw, Mom wanted to eat out. The Google Lady lead me back to Terminal B of SJC and I wanted a restaurant off Skyport. But the commenters back in April 2017 in a news article said that the establishment was closed due to investors, planners, and bad management. The workers, especially the chef, walked off the job. Some didn’t get paid their last paycheck. Sheesh.
And so I meant to blog about the traitors. I think in the Filipino language Mom doesn’t ‘tee-wah-lah’ (or believe or trust) certain parioshioners, who I’d label as my enemies – that local politician snot TBB, the old droopy-eyed braggart PVB, and Ate Ising have hugged Respondent in the past and in front of my face! They are NOT to be trusted. Instead of escalating the issues to the pastor, they entertained the bitch.
That’s why I didn’t care if her boy left the choir box. Good riddance. I expect his support crew of temporary plugs to an otherwise empty group to disappear, too. I really don’t care if they come back either. That’s why I don’t care for this place of worship or the Filipinos infiltrating my turf. I wanted to leave but since my parents are still alive I’m forced to suffer with these crazy losers.
It feels good to donate my blood. My iron level hit 14.3, up from 12.3, I reckon. So the 65mg iron supplement helped to boost up my ‘qualification’ to donate blood. I submitted my RapidPass but the WHOLE process took ONE freaking hour from beginning to end. I had to excuse myself to use the toilet at the ‘check-in’ station. A Mexicana with HUGE ear plugs processed me. There was another ‘rave’ girl in long BLACK braids. Her roots are blond!
And after mass today, we went to lunch with the boy. Mom didn’t feel comfortable near him. So I’ve taken on the responsibility to care for the two innocent elderly parents. Oh, Oh! Speaking of ‘prey’, I wanted to check the transaction details to Dad’s credit card via my smartphone but it wouldn’t open up! I checked on my main personal computer and this is what it said: “We’re sorry, but we are temporarily unable to show credit card account information. Please try again later.”
As per my predictive programming, I wanted to punish this bank by making Dad pay his bill until the last minute. Lo and behold, the assholes locked us outta viewing the details. I am forced to manually enter his credit card receipts via the MS Excel spreadsheet, since he outright refused to open up a blank register log for his convenience! Once again, my assignment is here and now. Blah!
Sincerely,
FLYNN B.
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