Monday, six in the fucking morning, drinking coffee in my car because I can't fucking afford to be late on a fucking Monday. Forgive my excessive use of the F word; Monday has that effect on me. Let's be real, Monday has that effect on almost everyone who's not filthy rich or insane in an asylum. But I digress; I just want to let you in my life minus the camera crew and writers that make up an awful reality show starring a famous socialite family with a last name that is manufactured to be unfortunately memorable. I just want you to see through my eyes how life is when you're in the middle all of the fucking time.
Damn, I should've finished my coffee before I got to the highway. The sober, decaffeinated version of me made a genius turn into a parking lot called EDSA. Why? Good question, my faithful audience. My office is in Makati, and while I have limited choices as to which route I should be using, EDSA would still be a stupid choice on a Monday morning. This is a perfect example of someone who is in the middle, ALL THE FUCKING TIME. I meant that in a literal sense if it's not too obvious for you yet.
So I turned on my radio, hoping to God my favorite talk show is discussing something worthwhile. Nope, not yet... they're playing a Taylor Swift song that I only know because "T-Swizzle is supposedly the hottest artist in the pop scene right now." And I'm only quoting a new-hire talent scout from our office. As soon as the song ended, the show was back. They started to talk to about who are the hottest chicks in the Philippines. Sure, it's objectifying women, but can we really avoid that?
When we say we objectify women, do we go ahead and treat them like trophies? Or do we treat them like the Monet paintings we see in the museum? That's just one of those random thoughts you get during traffic hours. I don't get those in the shower because I tend to use the bathroom fairly quickly, and my brain doesn't work well without caffeine. Going back, I think women are all equally beautiful and that we men only differ in our preferences. Some like breasts, some like legs, some like eyes, some like smiles, some like nose, and some like ass. Men are simple creatures, to be honest. We appreciate the beauty; it's just that there are those who go overboard and disrespect what we love.
As the radio show started to make their list, there was this asshole bus driver that almost sideswiped me and this Hyundai I10 in front of me. The irony of it is that I'm in an SUV alone, while this I10 had passengers. They were probably six in that car including the driver. I blasted my horn to express my anger, while the person in the passenger side of the I10 turned down his window and hit the side of the bus with a lead pipe. This sort of thing happens, especially on a Monday. I was just lucky enough to actually witness it because it's one of those things that make for good entertainment in a traffic jam.
Before they started a commotion, the movement in the road became smooth and cars started to move forward. By some miracle of God, a fender bender involving three cars that happened a few meters away from where I am decided to transfer their issues to the side so that they won't worsen the traffic. Really, that's some decent shit right there. Because why do some people think that if someone hit their car, it automatically becomes the problem of the rest of the drivers in the area? It's worse if the car they're driving is a shit-box. Ha. Look who's talking; a guy driving a 20 year old SUV with a faded paint job.
Suddenly, my phone was ringing.
"Mace, where are you?" my boss, calling me by my nickname is kind of reassuring because that means he's in a good mood on a Monday morning.
"Almost there, Boss Chuck, around 10-20 minute drive considering if there's no traffic in Buendia." I replied.
"I need you to pass by Ascott to pick up Joyce."
"Joyce is here in the Philippines? Really?"
"Try not to sound too eager to see her, Mason."
"I'm not, boss. I mean, I am, because I'm always so eager to do what you ask me to do." I did not want to sound sarcastic, but it's my only defense left against my boss' subtle judgements.
YOU ARE READING
The 24 Year Old Project
Ficción General"The 24 Year Old Project" is a constant work in progress. It is a work of fiction about an unremarkable 24 year old guy who suddenly experienced a series of sudden flips in his life.
