Saturday, May 03, 2003

THE CAT's COIFF The cat badly needed a hair trim. Unlike in the past when the first thing she does in visiting the Philippines was to go to the old place of Jun Encarnacion (RIP) in this latest vacation she hardly had enough time for her “hair beauty ritual” except for the skin laser treatment “something." (this topic would be discussed separately). During the hair rehab sessions, she would endure for two hours, inhaling all the chemicals that would make her unwanted curls disappear; “ cellophane and wax” hair strands to give them a shine that remind the cat of her spinster aunts’ long stresses shining and smelling like the native delicacy that had just come out from the coconut vat (you read it right, not bath but vat). This is similar to the favorite kitchen gadget that made a barely-can-cook- Chinese become a celebrity as an instant chef/host of a cooking program. This comment came from a Jackie Chan-look-alike Chinese friend whose father is a good cook. During the cat’s pre-USA days and his pre-Australian migration, he would pick her up at home, asked his father (he can barely speak English) to cook and together with his brother who was then a student in the International School; the trio would eat noodles the Chinese way and slurped the soup noisily to compliment his father's cooking. (What is the Chinese way ? uncut noodles brought to the mouth with the help of two thin sticks called chopsticks. The longer the better, never uncut. Chinese considered noodles to signify long life. Never cut them for serving and never twist them in a fork like you do to your spaghetti). (Great and the cat wandered off again. She is supposed to be talking about hair). The feline discovered Jun Encarnacion (RIP) not knowing that he was a beauty consultant of movie stars so UTANG NA LOOB, do not think that her visit to his beauty saloon in Sampaloc was merely an excuse to see some ageing stars who had their beauty regimen for free in exchange for their thank you speech…"thank you to Jun Encarnacion for my hair and make up … thank you to (insert a name of a couturier ) for my dress…A thank you speech that the cat would mimic to distract her college" barkadas" who were busy cramming for a quiz… Thank you to (insert name of a funeral parlor-ngeek) for my hair and make up…thank you for the bag of butong pakwan from Aling Emer sa kanto,etc etc.thank you for allowing me to copy …(insert the name of the most studious and conscientious member of the clique). As this cat was saying, she discovered Jun when her hair stylist of more than five years decided to move back to the South without saying good bye. (translation: umalis ng walang ni HA, ni HO). She faced a dilemma. She developed loyalty to the lady hairdresser who she thought was the only one who could tame her rebellious hair. She tried a beauty parlor near her school. Great leaders made wrong decisions. This wrong decision of her to go there between her classes made her think that she would be a good leader someday. (wishful thinking) She thought it would just be a few minutes of nip and zip and hair blowing and the doo would just be fine. The ageing gay hair stylist was in the bathroom taking a shower, so please, if the cat may take a seat, his assistant would do the works before the “cutting ceremony”. First she shampooed her hair. Then she gave her a whole bunch of magazines after wrapping her head with a big white towel making her look like a sheik or something. (This cat realized that this was one good strategy to hold the customers from leaving. Who would dare leave with a towel and dripping hair from a beauty shop ?). The next hour was a torture waiting for the entrance of the great hair specialist (that was how he called himself). If not for the damp towel, her hair curls must have sprung up due to dryness. The trimming took another one hour. Grrr, she missed her Philosophy class. But the finished product was good. It gave body to her hair that after several months, she did do not have to bother herself thinking of where to go for her next hair coiffure. Then a friend brought her to Jun. She saw him in person. Haah and he gave her a hair cut even if his staff could very well do the service. He complimented the cat to look like somebody given a hair cut that would make people take a second look so he was doing the styling himself. He gave her the perfect bangs and a hair style that may not make the cat purr like the lady in the commercial oomphing sensuously after using a particular shampoo but it gave her the kind of Sylvester smile when he just swallowed Tweety before it is rescued by the old woman or by that angel dog of her. Her classmates thought that they were seeing Cleopatra minus her beautiful jewelries. She would have believed them if it was not end of the semester. This was the time of submission of papers. Her friends knew how to avoid the crime of plagiarism when they recycled papers that she had written without nary an evidence that these have been used by many "aspiring" writers. Until now she sports “the bangs”. Before her flight, she needed a trim and off she went to a beauty parlor. Her favorite hair counsellor (take note, the titles are glamorized…the hair must be seeking counsels for their depression…when they stand on ends because of SARS scare…hehehehe) …got to slap my hands…they kept on diverting away from the topic…so many things to write but so few minutes to write them in one sitting…) went vacationing. Half heartedly, the cat consented to have her hair done by another beauty(whatever title they want). This lady is talkative. She talked without let up…to me…to the new arrivals….to her co-workers… Gosh..this cat wished she had a masking tape. She was so incensed of the chatter-box that she closed her eyes. And boom….when she opened her eyes, she could have cried “murder” or declare war unilaterally. The bangs were cut 2 inches shorter ..making her looked like Uma Thurman in that movie Pulp Fiction with that ugly hair piece or she could be a Chinese doll except for the fact that she is not fair skinned and her eyes are bigger than those Japanese animated cartoons. She was hopeful however that it was not worse as she imagined it to be. But after that humiliating remark from a gay impersonator, she knew that she was wrong. Her friends brought her to a stand up-comedy... the latest craze in the country where humor cannot be eclipsed by war or by SARS scare. She just realized that it was a comedy at the expense of the people who paid to watch these drag queens mimic the singing divas while uttering their colorfull anguage termed as "swardspeak/gayspeak lingo oh “diva “mama and all of those sorts. They sung. They got good voices. If they lipsynched, no one would notice. Admittedly these new generations of transsexual hopefuls outdid their old predecessors whose definition of show business was a carnival with a white mouse that dizzily brought good luck to a person who picked the winning number. After their intro numbers, they welcome the audience; greet celebrants of any occasions, birth, divorce/death of love anniversaries and for a generous donation (tips to the uninitiated) to their association of mga B…., they would sing a requested song. When it was our turn to be acknowledged, a friend who was still wearing her office clothes told the trio that the group was entertaining a balikbayan and that was me, the poor cat . Poor because for the whole duration of the night, the cat was the “object of affection” by the three “gay” people…(gay as happy bading)…and their favorite was her hair do. Was it the new style in the US ?…The most beautiful of the three offered that for a a few bucks, he could give my beauty counselor a few punches…for my revenge…he added that he was once a boxer before he realized that he preferred a cleavage than a hairy muscled chest. Another one quipped that should he be given a round trip ticket, he would charm his way to get a visa so he can give her some beatings that she would not forget. The third one consoled me that in the group, with the bangs, the cat looked young that she could still passed off like a juvenile who still wears bobby sox. Translation…mukha akong bata…batang isip….hehehehe..really funny….I could have given him a pinch in his restructured nose after several rounds of green mango shake. That is the reason for the cat's need for hair trim. Excuse me while I answer the phone. It must be my new hair stylist for my appointment. Careful...I got three goons masquerading as gays. Quotation for the day: The cat in gloves catches no mice.


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