No Pun Intended

Subject:	Weight, lighters, and telegrams.
Time:	4:41 pm.
Mood:	OK.
Music:	Paula DeAnda - When it was me.

If the weighing scale at home is to be trusted, I've lost 13 lbs in a little over a month, which is essentially a statistical and biological improbability. On second thought, I am prone to these kinds of weight swings, especially back in college during hell weeks.
I am not remotely romantic at this point in my life, but I had to reconsider things when, settling in our little bench in RCBC's lung center, we both fished out identical yellow Cricket lighters from our pockets, something that elicited what must have been the 100th laughter of the day (and it was only 5pm). This, after getting coffee and before heading to his condo nearby for a little Ally McBeal marathon.
Slowly, the rakets are coming in. Although I've to admit, I can feel the credit crunch. Talking about this with Piya some weeks back, I asked her if telegrams still existed, because I was too shy to ask my mom this little favor. We predicted the exchange to resemble something like this.
```
Glenn: 
Ma [stop] Please pay credit card bills [stop]

Ma:
Anak [stop] Pakyu [stop]
```
The client practically told me to watch Gossip Girl. Ugh. (Actually, as much as I hate to admit it, the reason I don't want to start watching the CW series is because I might get hooked.)
Countdown to 23rd birthday: 13 days. Expect some age-obsessed entries disguised as existential, po-mo shit.

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