He didn't have a tan line; all his skin was craftily tanned burnt sienna that he managed to tan those underneath the tip of the nose, behind the ears, and in between his toes. His hair was dyed a haystack yellow. His body was carved with muscles, abs tough as rock, though his face was rather chimplike. He wore a pair of board shorts, and called himself Oliver. He was my surfing instructor.

I gawked at his body toned from a lifetime dedication to surfing, as we stood on each side of the long board about five yards from the shoreline. "This is the tail." He pointed at the rear of the long board. "Then this is the rim, then the nose." He pointed the sides then the head of the board accordingly. I nodded like an obedient catholic school girl, my hands akimbo, as Clark took candid pictures of my basic surfing lesson five feet away.

"Now there are two positions when standing on the board," Oliver began, stepping on the long board. "This is the regular foot." He bent his knees, arms spread like an eagle, left foot in front, both feet facing the right. "And this is the goofy foot," he said, switching feet with the right in front, both feet facing the left. "What stance do you think you're comfortable in?"

"Err," I staggered. "The goofy foot, prolly." Funny term, goofy foot. It's like having a funny foot or something.

...hum, hokay. I just am not into narrating my surfing escapade, the whole road trip and all, cause my body feels like its been whacked to smithereens, swear to god, no amount of Alaxan or pain killer would do the trick.

It was my first surfing experience ever (excluding those mentally constructed, mind) and as a surfing newbie myself--well not just a surfing newbie, but a clumsy oafy klutz at that--it took me ten million fumbles, slips, trips, slides, and a dozen bumps and bruises before finally being able to stand and balance on the board and skate on the water surface with the chutzpah of Tiago Pires. It was like hiking Mount Everest: the venture to the pinnacle is strenuous, backbreaking, and exhilarating. But once the top is reached, the experience is gratifyingly paradisaical, but fleeting nonetheless, lasting only eight seconds. Similarly, it's like cooking a complex recipe for six hours and savoring the taste for only for ten minutes. Learning surfing is like that; learning is an hour mother fucker, but skating on water surface is an eight-second glory.

I am devoid of excitement, as you can imagine.XP

The road trip was, err, "Blah". Being a nocturnal animal, I was rather sleep-walking during the two whole days on the beach, not to mention the surfing competition. That was in La Union, then chugged to Baguio on the whim with the rest of the crew--Clark, Lucky, FJ, and Uzelle.

Hummm. I are tired; my body feels like its been punched and whipped by monstrous waves (which really did happen), and then tossed rolling like a corpsy shipwreck survivor on the shore.

Holy FUCK, I have LBM.

Kuya FJ and my gums in Baguio.
Si Uzel asa likod.
Nadekwat ko sa internet.XD
Kadiri gums ko pramis.XXDDD
My face turns siopaoish when I smile.
All my facial fats dissect in the center and gather on my cheeks.
Ar, I have dimples.XD

Word Up

ipjito!
06.03.10 - 01:43

hoy! paramdam ka. bagong post yung pic ah. nuon ko lang dinalaw blog mo nung 08 p kasi.

Word did you say?

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