I was supposed to write about me, spending the weekend plowing through a traditional 12- course meal somewhere in the Manila area (yes you read that right 12 fucking course… If anyone is interested to know: I fucking survived it, bitches! 3 soups, 3 desserts and 6 main courses (?) later, I’m still standing) It’s one of the many fun things about being a half-breed (ampao, tikoy and Peking Duck). Well, it was fun while it lasted. There were however, a few fleeting moments where I felt I’m about to barf if poked in the wrong way but thank God I managed to keep my shit together and I, once again, stands victorious! That story would’ve been fun, no?
But then I chanced upon this and wouldn’t you know it, I ditched all efforts to dish out my mind-numbing story.
Oh, hell no. The convicts are at it again. This time dancing to the tune of “Que Rico Mambo”. No, I kid you not. I repeat: to the tune of “Que Rico Mambo” You can’t make up this kind of schiz, y’know. Don’t let me interrupt.
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