Wednesday, 2 July 2008

Pest Control

This entry has been a long time in the posting due to lack of a title.

Inspiration for the above came from a call from the reception desk of the Columns the other day. They were notifying me that the pest control services agents were on their way up to spray. They were supposed to have come several days earlier. I stayed home waiting for them, but they never showed. That is typical. In the past year I've spent a couple weeks worth of days here waiting for exterminators, fire inspectors, etc. who never show up.

But this entry isn't about that.

It is about a pest, though. One that I wish I could control.

I call her Crazy Girl.

Crazy Girl is a twenty-something year old who lives here in the Columns.

I believe she's Brazilian, though I've never heard her speak in Portugese. I don't think the possibility she's Brazilian has anything to do with her being crazy. That is probably due to her fondness for blonde hair dyes. I pluralized that because her hair is dyed multiple shades of blonde.

Crazy Girl first appeared a few months ago and announced herself to me saying I see you everywhere!

Everywhere?, I thought. I thought only God could be seen everywhere. Apparently everywhere is limited to the Makati central business district, where we both live, eat, and shop.

I pointed out that I couldn't be seen everywhere and she became frustrated, pouted her lips, and went into a sort of tantrum, behaving much like a six-year old child. I've seen her do this other times as well.

She also stops at inopportune places, sits on the floor, and text messages. I noticed her doing that a week or so ago on one of the narrow third floor bridges connecting towers one and two of the busy RCBC Plaza across the street from us when Edson and I went to eat at the restaurants there.

She noticed me talking with a friend at the swimming pool here and told me she thought it made me look gay to be talking with him for so long.

Who else am I going to talk to? The palm trees? Lounge chairs? I wouldn't look gay, just insane.

Anyway, last week Edson and I were returning from dinner and had just entered the elevator when we heard someone shout Hold the elevator!

Guess who it was.

Nope, not Imelda Marcos. Try again.

Nope, not George Bush on his Farewell Tour. (I think he knows I can't wait to see him leave office...and speaking of an office in need of pest control!)

One more guess.

Crazy Girl, you say? That's right!

(You readers are so smart!)

She entered the elevator, and without even aknowledging Edson's existence, says to me I saw you at the pool the other day. -Pause- You're a confident swimmer. -Pause- Your swimsuit looks nice on you. You have a big butt.

Fortunately, the elevator didn't have to stop between the lobby and her floor, so the trip was quick enough that that was pretty much all she could say.

Edson's ability to restrain his laughter was really being tested. So was mine.

So there we have it.

I have an admirer/stalker/pest.

Yesterday she took her lunch with a friend by the pool, staring at me the whole time.

What to do with her?

I could spend more time with Edson and/or my friend at the pool. Perhaps looking gay will dissuade her.

Perhaps I should have asked the pest control guy to go down to her place?

Maybe next time.


Aside: I barely know how to swim. Though I am in the pool regularly practicing. Any confidence I have is put to the ultimate test once my head goes underwater!

Aside again: I do not have a big butt. I've even lost four pounds in the past month!

Aside ver. 3.0: Now I need to find out what suit makes my butt look big.

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