PRE(SUMPTIVE) DEPARTURE ORIENTATION SEMINAR Week One

I'm gonna get in trouble for this, I just know it.

All government personnel (FSOs, service attachés, staff) scheduled for deployment abroad are required to go through PDOS - the Pre-Departure Orientation Seminar. It's supposed to give you a broad idea what life will be like at post, brief you on hot topics and issues, and generally provide you with tips on how to stay out of trouble and avoid being recalled. Cadetship Lite, if you will.

All well and good, except: a) The Boss (who I shall henceforth call Pardek) doesn't know I'm signed up for the current 3-week course; b) all the other officers in my unit are either on leave or away on assignment, making the wing of my office a virtual ghost town; and c) I'm not even due for posting yet!

It's not quite the pre-printing of "19-0 Perfect Season" Patriot t-shirts, but it's still a giant temptation of fate. Some crisis could flare up at my office, they'd look for me and find my empty desk, and Pardek would yell "You're not even going anywhere! WTF, man?!"

But, heck, PDOS is only irregularly offered once or twice a year. And if there's one thing Gattaca taught me, it's that if your blast-off window is closing, you gotta take chances and be ready to throw Jude Law in an incinerator.

So PDOSing I go.

Week One

Day One

Getting to know you. As you can see from the proliferation of buzz-cuts, most of my PDOS batchmates are from the armed services. There's no one from the Trade and Industry Department this time, which is sad because I was hoping to start a geeky FSO vs. Foreign Trade Service Corps rivalry. Alas. (Needless to state, I don't start a rivalry with the future military attachés, because they will freakin' end me)

Day Two


Entitlements, benefits and allowances, oh my! Everyone's favorite lecture. The funniest part was that one of my PDOS batchmates actually brought his spouse - or maybe she brought herself - specifically to this lecture. No paycheck's getting past her!

Day Three

Human Resources' go-to move: The Out-of-Office Team Building Exercise. It actually turned out more fun than expected, and the Parks and Wildlife venue brought back memories of grade school field trips. Above, we see the standard opening team cheer event. My team - the Black Panthers - basically just rhymed "Winner" with "Gggrrrrrr". Yes, it was as lame as it sounds.


Best part of the day: An Amazing Race* type of..um..race. Various legs involved: a) answering tough questions on Philippine history; b) solving complex brain teasers; and c) using your mouth and raising your butt in the air (don't ask why I was a little too good at this task).

And then, there was this.



Last activity of the day: everyone breaks up into groups of two, independently makes a random body part, and then creates the world's ugliest composite whatever-the-hell-that-thing-is.

Finally, your future foreign service personnel let loose to the tune of Pinoy Big Brother (warning: contains disturbing images)

(*speaking of Amazing Race, a few words on the just concluded Asian edition: Son of Rovil, you bald-headed shmuck!!! Flags? You couldn't get past freakin' flags!?! If you spent more time just looking at your passport's stamps and the flagpoles at the airports, and less time stripping, flirting and basically making pa-cute throughout the race, Philippine GNP would be up another $100,000 by now! No wonder you've never endorsed anything other than Mexicali fastfood! Do you even know what Mexicali is?! Are you still looking for a Republic of Mexicali flag? Shmuck.)

Day Four

Protocol and Social Graces, where they beseech us to always keep our elbows off the dining table (ok), to trim our nose hair regularly (ok), and to never wear a red sando underneath a white barong (I make no promises).

Day Five


Love the segue. From Good Grooming and Office Decorum we go directly to...Political and Security Issues. Why the hell not? In the afternoon, there's a Powerpoint presentation on Personal Security and we're given tips like "avoid taking the same route to work" and "look inside your car before going in". The whole thing sounded like a James Bond script...

...Oh. Well, there you go.

Alrighty then. First week's over and done with, the sessions have been relatively interesting, and no one has discovered Jude Law's charred corpse yet.

So far, so good.

THE ULTIMATE MOCK FSO EXAM REVIEWER

So I still see ads in the papers for FSO Exam review courses, and frankly, I still don't get it. Like I said in the epic "LL vs. DD", the FSO exam - unlike the Bar - is not something you can cram for in a couple of months. It's just too damn huge. I don't think a couple of review classes are gonna save your ass. You have to have been constantly reading books, magazines, news sites, Sunday comics, graphic novels, Department of Health pamphlets, backs of cereal boxes - ANYTHING - since before you hit puberty to have a shot in hell at the exam questions.

(of course, all that reading possibly postponed many a future FSO's puberty, but that's for another posting, "LL vs DD: Where the Women At?")

What I'm saying is, you might be better served just devouring "Bababa ba?", the latest issue of Maxim...er...The Economist, or Dave Barry's blog at your own pace than raising the stakes and enrolling in some review class. Besides, the passing rate of the FSO exam is lower than "Idol" auditions, so no refresher course can guarantee a return on your investment.

My advice: relax, keep on reading, go with what you know. If you don't make it, there's always next year. It shouldn't be as Life-or-Death as the Bar.

And whenever the mood strikes you, help yourself to my absolutely free and patent-pending Ultimate Mock FSO Exam Reviewer.

Emphasis on the "mock".


1. English (20%)



2. Tagalog (5%)



3. Philippine Political, Economic, Social and Cultural Conditions (30%)



4. International Affairs (20%)



(ed. note: the above used to be an awesome "Family Guy" video of Peter explaining diplomatic immunity to the tune of "U Can't Touch This", until those copyright fascists forced it off YouTube. By the Hammer of MC, I swear I will personally draft and handcarry for signing the Presidential appointment papers of any examinee who works into his/her FSO exam the international law principles found in "The Republic of Petoria" episode)

5.World History (20%)



6. Foreign Language (5%)

THE MOST DEPRESSING TIME OF THE YEAR

Count me among the January-24-is-the-Most-Depressing-Day-of-the-Year believers. Aside from everything else, the day coincided with our annual Batch picture taking, and the occasion only highlighted our dwindling numbers as more and more of us get assigned abroad. In fact, two batchmates were scheduled to fly out for good that very weekend.

“Wait just a freakin' minute, Mr. Sensitive!” you say. “Isn’t the whole point of the foreign service to get posted? Why should that be depressing? Quit whining, you weenie. Envoy up!”

Well, three quick replies: a) yeah, we know we're all going to be assigned abroad eventually, but still, these are really good friends who are leaving in rapid succession and who've been with me since the start of my career as an FSO, and that would make even Dr. Phil misty; b) the way things are shaping up, I might go “I am Legend” and be the Batch’s last man standing at the Home Office (which means, among others, I’d have to spring for EVERYONE’S despedida and going away present. Hmp!); and c) have you tried to schedule a live Fantasy draft across time zones?

Fortunately, later that evening we had the supreme anti-depressant: the Triple-V Ultimate Buffet! We feted our departing batchmates to lechon, seafood, mango mousse, bottomless ice tea, and everything else they’ll crave at post.

Nothing relieves misery like indigestion, I always say.

The Batch picture itself didn’t even turn out that nice, mostly because the boys had the maturity of kindergarteners and couldn’t keep still and stop putting sungay on the girls. Ladies and gentlemen, YOUR future ambassadors! =)


Adieu to two more batchmates. The one on the left (and rocking the ‘stache) is SHY LONG COZEN JUROR, who’s off to Saudi Arabia. The one on the right is COMMAND DOE RED, who’s headed to Pakistan (no lame jokes this time; just best wishes, and stay safe).

Rock on, lads. Rock on.

MY HOME OFFICE IS MORE AWESOME THAN YOUR HOME OFFICE

So on the way to the vin d’honneur, the thought of all those incoming and outgoing foreign diplomats triggered part of my brain to decide that the event would be the perfect time to discuss the merits of the Philippine Home Office. No one really asked me to, even my batchmates stayed away from me, and I’m sure Palace security wondered why I brought Powerpoint equipment to a vin d'honneur. But the truth knows no time and place, man! So openly discuss I did…mostly to myself…in a corner…a safe distance from everyone. Because the truth can staggering, man! You need room!

Citizens! Do not be afraid! This is not a U.F.O. landing! Nor some bad acid flashback! This is just the Philippine Home Office auditorium! Really!

There are flag ceremonies, and there are DFA flag ceremonies complete with angklung ensemble (and who doesn't like good angklung?)

Standard Second Floor Amenities Check: Cafeteria (check). Executive Lounge (check). Juice Bar (check). Convenience Store Motorcycle door prize (check). Waiting Area Disco Ball (check). Pharmacy/Large Brassiere display (check).

The entrance hall is guarded by the Philippines' first foreign secretary, Apolinario Mabini, also known as the "Sublime Paralytic" (which makes him just like Professor X, only more awesome).

We start our diplomat training at a young age. As in a REALLY young age! (Just kidding, this is just U.N. day at the Home Office Day Care Center. Still, you had the hold back the Department officials from inspecting the kids’ national costumes and enforcing protocol)

YOUR Home Office may have some fancy fountain or waterfall; OUR Home Office has the well from “The Ring”.

Right next door to our Home Office is a…ahem…motel establishment place with this sign. Not really sure what passports have to do with "visiting" a motel...but, hey, glad to help!

Our Home Office also has this killer roofdeck view ready in case any magazine out there wants to contact me for my next photoshoot (I've been waiting a while now)

Oh….oh, my. How to best describe the lampposts that run the length of the Home Office? I’d go with Giant Royal Scepter of Green Lantern’s arch-nemesis from Vegas, or something classy like that.

Finally, at precisely 7:00pm every Friday – as if to signal the official start of the weekend – we get this Mall of Asia fireworks display right outside our window. And, let me tell you, if YOUR Home Office isn’t 5 minutes away from more than 350,000 square meters of retail bliss on Fridays, it just ain’t happenin’.

(presentation finished; exit vin d'honneur to scattered applause)

LET'S HAVE SOME 'VIN'!

“All officers are cordially invited to attend the ‘vin d'honneur’ for the diplomatic corps tomorrow morning…”, crackled the Department’s P.A. system.

“That’s vin d’rful!”, I replied. “I’ve never been to vin!”

Well then! Vin with the show!

The vin d'honneur is how Hollywood usually depicts the diplomatic experience: Palaces, High Officials, protocol, formalwear, small talk, hor d'oeuvres, toasts, calling cards. It's also a legitimate excuse to drink before lunch.

What does it take to be a Philippine FSO? You have to rock the barong, hold your liquor, have poor eyesight, and part your hair flat and to the right.

Two things I learned at the vin d'honneur buffet table: 1) the ensaymada at Malacanang is the best ever; and 2) media cut in line.

A batchmate catches me in paparazzi mode (and yet note my cool, suave hand-in-pocket-weight-on-one-leg stance; you can't teach that level of sophistication)

I liked their centerpieces: fresh sampaguita medallions hanging off what appears to be a crazy long cocktail glass filled with ice topped off with roses and some sort of local fruit (must check diplomatic handbook if it's wrong to want to munch on centerpieces).

At event's end, VIPs get picked up at the doorstep by lined-up limousines...

...while us diplomatic dregs hoof it out the gate and catch a taxi =)


There you have it. Glad you could read my blog. It's vin great! Next post d'honneur before Saturday the 26th!

LL vs. DD: THEIR WAR, MY BLOG

As is usual at the start of the year, I strip to my underwear, smoke some Vick’s Vap-o-Rub, fast-chant “Owa Tajer Kayam”, and go on a mind-bending introspective journey about life. This year, I asked myself that eternal existential question: what kicks more ass, being a Lame Lawyer or a Dorky Diplomat?

My mind trip breaks it down thusly:

Getting There

Case for Lame Lawyer (LL): You’ve seen “The Paper Chase”. You’ve read “One-L.” Being a law student is supposed to be a living hell. And it is. But it’s a well-defined hell, with a clear path to redemption. You basically follow a straight line: law school, bar review, bar exams, some waiting, and - if you pass - oath taking and powdered wig fitting. In the meantime, for four years after college, you get to ogle co-eds, live with your parents and put off finding a real job.

Intervention for Dorky Diplomat (DD): If law school’s hell, preparing to be a DD is purgatory: nobody knows where they are, where to go, or how best to get the frack out of there. There are Philippine colleges that offer courses in international relations, but graduates often don’t end up in the foreign service. Conversely, there are those who have made it as diplomats here who come from such far-off backgrounds as accounting, engineering and – why the hell not? - architecture. Heck, my own preparation for the foreign service exam was just reading every local newspaper and issue of “Time” since grade school, plus all the Al Franken books I could get my hands on.

Deliberations: For whatever reason, law school has developed a mystique no undergraduate course can match (well, unless you’re a pre-molecular brain rocketology major; in which case, everyone hates you). On the other hand, you can be in, say, bartending school and still legitimately claim that you can go on and become a diplomat.

Resolved in favor of: LL. Try telling your future mother-in-law that you’re a law student. Now tell her, just kidding, you’re actually studying to be a bartender, but still hope to be a diplomat someday. Aaaaaaaaah….

Qualifying Exam

Case for LL: The Philippine Bar exam. The end all and be all. Either you become a lawyer or you don’t. Fail this, and the free ride comes to a screeching halt. Sure, you can take it again, but you’ll always come across some smack-talking jerk who managed to pass on his first try. You can also skip taking the exam again altogether, but then you’ll have to sit through some pretty uncomfortable job interviews and family reunions. So…what’ve you been doing these past four years? Really? How’d that go?

The exam itself is spread out over one long, nerve-wracking September, but at least you know what you’re in for, and you know what needs to be done. This is what we trained for, people! (cue “Danger Zone”). All the answers can be found in the four-year course and six-month review you put yourself through, if you can only keep your head clear and your heart rate steady enough to write any of it down. Of course, you can just as easily go all Cougar in “Top Gun” and freak out from the pressure (and many, in fact, do; poor, poor Cougar).

Intervention for DD: The Philippine Foreign Service Officer (FSO) exams. Not as well known, but gaining a reputation as even tougher than the Bar exam (the numbers seem to back this up: only about 2% of those who start the exam process every year go on to become full-fledged foreign service officers, while about 15-30% of bar examinees pass and become lawyers). The FSO exams are actually a series of tests of attrition held over the course of a year, starting with one-day SAT-like qualifying exams, followed by grueling three-day written exams, and ending with oral exams that are part “Bb. Pilipinas” interview, part “The Apprentice” boardroom and part “Queer Eye” makeover.

Oh, and a good portion of the exam is in a foreign language.

The high mortality rate of the FSO exams may seem merciless, but you’re actually better off afterwards than if you failed the Bar. You didn’t have to go through an intense pre-exam review course (at least I didn’t). You didn’t need to spend four years of your life in a specialized school specifically preparing for it. Most likely, no one even knew you took the exams, so there’s not much fallout for failing. And after everything else, your career options are still very much wide open (yes, including bartending).

Deliberations: If they were cities, the Bar would be dense New York and the FSO exams sprawling L.A. The Bar questions are no-nonsense, straight-to-the-point, you-know-it-or-you-don’t deals. The FSO exams are open ended invitations to unload and wax eloquent. The Bar is neatly compartmentalized into the different fields of law (Criminal, Civil, Labor etc.), so you at least have an idea what’s coming next. The written portion of the FSO exams is divided into broad categories that, well, don’t really help you focus on anything. World History? Gee, thanks. That narrows it down! (btw, as the photo on the right shows, some examinees think it’s not enough of a challenge to simply answer the World History portion of the exam; you have to look the part and rock the musketeer uniform as well)

The FSO exams may have lower passing rates, but it’s still the Bar that captures the imagination of the Philippine public. The Bar comes with the pageantry of a town fiesta, the logistics of a royal wedding and the sports/stadium patriotism of Pacquiao-Morales II. You got marching bands greeting you if you pass, your name gets printed in the papers, there’s even TV coverage of results night. Really, the whole thing is treated not so much a government qualifying exam as the social event of the season.

There’s also tremendous hype and adulation generated by schools, families and entire communities during the Bar. From the start to the end of the exams, you can get free food, be fetched from your home by a driver, even be put up in a hotel if you want. Then, as you finally enter the exam venue, you’re cheered on like the 54^th before the final battle in “Glory” and - best of all - underclassmen give you longing gazes as if you were a shirtless Justin Timberlake gyrating to “This I promise You.”

I swear, if you really didn’t care about passing the exam and just wanted to score, this would be the time.

Resolved in favor of: LL. You cannot overstate the profound significance of groupies. You just can’t.

Titles

Case for LL: Stick “Atty.” to the front of your name, and you’re good to go.

Intervention for DD: A lot trickier. When you’re asked what you are/what you do for a living, you can’t simply answer “diplomat” without people thinking you’re pompous or just watch way too much James Bond. You’re better off giving your official designation, and depending on your rank and where you’re assigned, that can be anything from Special Assistant (that’s me right now) to Vice Consul to Second Secretary to Executive Director to Consul to Minister Counselor to Undersecretary to Consul General to Ambassador, or acronyms/contractions (e.g. VC, ExDir) of the foregoing.

Or, you can be a real Pinoy and just be called “p're”.

Deliberations: In the Philippines, you’re more likely to be affectionately called by your title than by your real name, so this category matters. If I walk down the street, it’s very possible someone I know will shout Ah-TORR-neee!. On the flipside, no one has yet yelled out Hey, Special Ass! to me, although I remain hopeful.

Resolved in favor of: DD. Get to the top of the law profession, and you’re still called “Atty.” Get to the top of the diplomacy chain, and you get to be called “Your Excellency.” And that, my friends, is just freakin’ awesome.

Take Home Pay

Case for LL: Law firm salary.

Intervention for DD: Government employee pay scale.

Deliberations: Haaaaaaaaahahahahahahahahahahahahaha….that’s great.

Resolved in favor of: LL (but if you’re a DD, you’re rich inside; I keep telling myself this).

Privileges

Case for LL: Well, traffic cops seem to get jittery when they find out you’re a lawyer, and people you hardly know ask you to be ninong to their children, but otherwise there’s no written code of perks or anything.

Intervention for DD: Two words. Diplomatic. Immunity.

Deliberations: Let’s put it this way: All the countries in the world decided to give each other’s diplomats tax exemptions, express lanes at airports, and a whole bunch of “Get Out of Jail Free” cards.

Resolved in favor of: DD. 200 sovereign nations can’t be wrong.

Travel

Case for LL: Whoa, whoa, whoa…It’s lawyering versus the foreign service, and the category is travel? What kind of fracking set-up is this?

Actually, some of my fondest travel memories are from when I was sent by my old law firm to dull courthouses exotic locales all over the Philippines. En route, I got to see glorious parts of my own country that I wouldn’t find on any travel brochure or episode of “Wild On!”. And since everything was charged to the client’s expense account, there was no “taxpayer-is-footing-the-bill” self-loathing afterwards.

Intervention for DD: Diplomatic Passport. Chicks dig the Diplomatic Passport.

Deliberations: There’s some strong irony at work here. I’m glad I saw so much of my own country during my LL days, but some of the local good ole’ boy lawyers could make someone from Manila feel, well, alien. On the other hand, sometimes when diplomats gather at a multilateral event, they get so caught up in the tasks at hand that they can momentarily forget what city they're in. Every hotel, meeting room and convention center begins to look just as good as the last one.

Resolved in favor of: Let’s just call this a draw. I earn frequent flyer miles either way.

Jokes

Case for LL: Are you kidding me? There’s a whole cottage industry of lame lawyer jokes out there. Most involve greed, hell, or a place where you can stick a gavel.

Intervention DD: Not many that I know of, although my bro-in-law insists there's an SNL sketch of diplomats saying “Please pass the shrimp cocktail."

Deliberation: Honestly, even with Google I can’t find anything for diplomats beyond “definition of …” one-liners, and pretty much all of those suck. With lawyers, you can run wild. In fact, the meaner the joke, the louder everyone laughs (well, except the lawyers themselves; we cry ourselves to sleep).

Resolved in favor of: LL (sniff…sniff…)

What Hollywood thinks the Profession is Really Like

Case for LL: Several types. You have your folksy good-guy. You have your douchebag shark. You have your ambitious public prosecutor and your overworked public defender. You have Richard Gomez in “Your Honor”. In all cases (har!), everything will be neatly resolved in a big courtroom scene without so much as a law book opened or a brief photocopied. Furtherheretomore, a witness will always break down on the stand, a trial lawyer will always have a sharper eye than a field investigator, and no weight of evidence will ever, EVER prevail over a kick-ass closing argument.

Intervention for DD: Fairly positive. As far as I can remember, Hollywood has always depicted diplomats as money-laden, cigar smoking, British-accent speaking intellectuals who manage to save the planet from World War III during dinner parties. More recent movies like “The Constant Gardener” and “Rendition” have shown a grittier side to diplomacy, but even then the diplomats came out as warm, fuzzy, idealist heroe...

...hm? What’s that? Check out “Lethal Weapon II”?

[Rudd fires at Riggs, hitting him several times. Riggs falls, writhing in pain. Arjen's gun clicks empty. Roger aims at him]
Roger Murtaugh: [shouting] DROP IT, ASSHOLE!
Martin Riggs: [weakly] Rog...
Arjen Rudd: [holds up his wallet] Diplomatic immunity!
[Roger slowly rolls his head on his neck, takes aim, and fires - his bullet goes through Rudd's wallet, and then his head]
Roger Murtaugh: It's just been revoked.

Deliberations: GodDAMMIT, Mel!!! The diplomats were about to lock up this category! You just had to blow your nose with the Vienna Convention, didn’t you?! Now even Jack Bauer is shooting up the Chinese Consul General and Bad Boy Will Smith is all, ooooh, let’s invade Cuba because we can’t wait for backchannelling. We have protocol, boys, protocol!

Resolved in favor of: DD. Just now realized, “Protocop” would be the most awesome summer blockbuster ever.

Recurring Appearance of Profession in a Marvel Comic

Case for LL: Matthew Murdoch. Lawyer. Blind man. Daredevil.

Case for DD: Hugo Kostas Natchios. Diplomat. Ambassador. Whipped husband who isn’t sure if he’s the real father of Elektra.

Deliberations: By all accounts, Natchios was the Doug Christie of the Marvel Universe. His wife did not hide a series of extramarital affairs, and diplomatic circles openly questioned his ability to manage the world when he couldn't manage his own house. Plus his daughter was being doinked by Atty. Daredevil. Even Natchios’ entry in the Marvel Encyclopedia was pathetic:

Powers/Abilities: Hugo had no superhuman powers. He was wealthy and employed several bodyguards, and he had unspecified diplomatic skills.

Unspecified diplomatic skills?!? I’m sorry, I understand you’re just the father of the superhero and have no superpowers of your own, but if even at your real job no one knows what it is you bring to the table, you must flat out suck.

On the other hand, Daredevil was played by the guy who appeared in “Gigli.”

Resolved in favor of: LL. Whatever else you have to say about Benny boy, he was once married to Matt Damon.

Most Hilarious Use of the Profession in a Song Lyric

Case for LL: “Doctor, Lawyer, Indian Chief” by Frank Sinatra

There's a doctor livin' in your town
There's a lawyer and an Indian, too
And neither doctor, lawyer nor Injun chief
Could love you any more than I do . . .

Tell the doc to stick to his practice
Tell the lawyer to settle his case
Send the Injun chief and his tommy-hawk
Back to little Rain-In-the-Face
'cause you
Know! Know! Know! it couldn't be true
That anyone else could love you like I do . . .

Intervention for DD: “Highly Strung” by Spandau Ballet

She used to be a diplomat,
But now’s she’s down the laundromat . . .

Deliberations: Basically, what Ol’ Blue Eyes is saying, not only can he love my woman better than I can, he’ll be totally politically incorrect while he’s at it.

Still, let me run that Spandau lyric by you again:

SHE USED TO BE A DIPLOMAT, BUT NOW SHE’S DOWN THE LAUNDROMAT.

I…I…don’t know what else to tell you.

Resolved in favor of: DD. Kemp and co. even had to add the following line “…they washed her mind and now she finds it hard…”. You know, in case the laundromat metaphor was too subtle for the 80’s.

SO AFTER ALL THAT, ONCE AND FOR ALL, WHAT WOULD YOU REALLY RATHER BE, A LAWYER OR A DIPLOMAT:

A Jedi.

RIZAL DAY RUCKUS

In honor of Rizal day, I give you not one, but two versions of the Philippine national anthem. Spot the solid 9 on the unintentional comedy scale:

(A) the LLDD's nephews . . . .

. . . or, (B) this gem

The correct answer, of course, is "B". I'm sorry, I know the makers meant well, but at all the moviehouses I've been to where this version is shown, the crowd breaks out in uncontrollable giggling around the 50 second mark. Maybe its the "full-emote" acting, maybe its the flaring nostrils, maybe its the megamoussed hair, can't really tell. I won't know for sure until I show up at the Department's next flag ceremony singing the anthem in a white unbuttoned shirt and tight tank top with wind machine in tow.

(And you'll forgive my nephews for flubbing some lyrics. They're in pre-school for crying out loud! What's Christian Bautista's excuse?)

That's right, baby boy. I'd hide, too

IN WITH THE NEW YEAR, OUT WITH THE OLD BATCHMATES

Most Philippine Christmas office parties are fairly predictable: lame emcees, poorly rehearsed dance numbers, cheesy door prizes, awkward silences after jokes about the size of the annual bonus. Not that there's anything wrong with these, but we're a long way away from the alcohol and mistletoe induced party debauchery depicted by Hollywood (and those have to be accurate, right?)

Christmastime at the foreign service home office has an added poignancy to it. Because personnel deployments usually take place at the start of the calendar year, Christmas parties often also double as despedidas. This makes for some pretty emotional gift-giving, especially when you realize your Secret Santa didn't get you anything and just left for a six-year foreign assignment.

(you can run Secret Santa, but I will find you...)

Last Christmas, two batchmates left for their postings: ORATE EAR to Kuwait and DRAGON LEE AX to Australia. I take it from their subsequent infrequent communications that they're very busy and happy where they are . . . or are just embarrased and want nothing to do with the rest of the batch anymore =)

This year, I gave warm season's greetings send-offs to two other batchmates, former seatmates and fellow U.P. lame lawyers. . .

. . . MASCARA ZERO PIT, who's off to Guam (Lord help the Baywalk Bodies if they try anything there again on her watch). . .

. . . and ABHORRENT ROTTEN ODD ASS, who's off to Israel (and enjoyed his last Papa-pose)

See ya around y'all! Can't wait for your Christmas cards!

IT'S SUNDAY, I MUST BE IN KUWAIT...OH WAIT, I'M HEADING HOME...NOPE, I'M STAYING...HOLD ON...

It was all just a blur.

First, I’m put on standby for an important trip to Kuwait. Then I’m told to cancel my booking. Then I learn at the last minute that my trip would push through. Then I find out I’d be flying in and out for just a few hours. Then, when I join everyone onboard the return flight and wait for takeoff, the pilot announces we’d all be staying overnight and should get off, pronto.

(pause while I gasp for breath)

In the end, it was all worthwhile as we accomplished our mission and headed home happy.

But the things we had to do that extra night with no spare shirts, socks or underwear – we shall never speak of again.

I arrive very early morning and crash at the embassy. My eyebags are set on “extra puffy”.

The Filipino community got the memo on dark suits.



That's my batchmate RO with the flowers. She hasn't finished cadetship yet, but she's been posted for a year now, and is doing a heck of a job as a kick-ass officer in Kuwait. Suck on that, "Institution!"

Work done, some long lost batchmates have just enough time to get together for a quick photo before takeoff (random meetings around the world among batchmates will be an increasingly frequent -and poignant- moment in the near future, as we start getting deployed to far off places in the coming months; it’ll be like a long running sitcom getting cancelled, and the cast later making special appearances on each other's new shows; or a Spice Girls reunion)

"This is your captain speaking. Our estimated departure is…um...sometime tomorrow. Y'all have to get off for now. But, hey, help yourself to the moist towelletes on the way out."

For the impromptu meeting with the Filcom, our hosts are kind enough to lend us one of their palaces (they had a few)

Next day. The people at the airport are probably saying “Are you guys still here?!” =)

"LL" STANDS FOR "LOVES LEVI'S"

I have a confession to make.

I love Levi's.

I love them for their comfort, style and durability.

I love them for their timelessness.

I love them because I like saying "rivets".

I love them even though they launched their "shrink-to-fit" 501's in 1984 of all years (Seriously, if you're a skinny self-conscious kid in the 80's, and you need your soiree-wear as Bagets tight as possible, you don't have time to wait for your jeans to come out of the wash and shrink! I need to moonwalk, now! Really, you couldn't have launched them during my '90's thug-gangsta phase?)

I love their naughty/sexy ads. None of those annoying Gap dancing wusses.

I love that according to their website, in the 1930s, consumers complained that the metal rivets on Levi's back pockets tended to scratch furniture, saddles and car seats, so they redesigned the way the pockets were sewn, placing the rivets underneath the fabric. That's social responsibility right there, people.

As a guy, I also gotta love them for taking zippers away from where my "business" is. I can only imagine the events that inspired this.

Yes, I love Levi's as much as a man can love a centuries-old company founded by Bavarian immigrants without violating the laws of nature.

And I love them wholly, freely, unconditionally.

It has ABSOLUTELY NOTHING to do with this:

(next week: I profess an unhealthy lust for event organizers De La Salle Graduate School of Business, venue Aruba Bar [Mall of Asia], and secondary sponsors Bayantel Wireless, Chalk magazine, E-Aji Potato Chips and Super M Strawberry-flavored yogurt drink)