ah, this bitchin' life!

friday night. rather early saturday morning. 3:12 a.m.

my old but reliable sony ericson phone lighted up with this message: "brunch, sunday? same place."

it was hannah.

drunk, with blurry vision (misplaced my eyeglasses) and wobbling knees (tired from all that dancing and flirting), i replied: "k." short, simple, clear, direct to the point. my editors would be proud.

&&&&&

two o clock. sunday. hannah sauntered into the restaurant, looking fabulous in an alber elbaz powder blue floral dress (almost the same one that emma stone wore to an event, but that one was in red), marc jacobs pumps and huge straw bag she bought at a christmas charity tiangge last month. her long curly hair tied simply at the back, pigtail style. her tired, sleepy eyes were covered well by a huge dark chanel glasses. lyk all gorgeous people, she was unmindful of the stares and admiring eyes that followed her right after she entered the door. it's still a bit chilly, with some malls and homes still decked in christmas decorations, but already hannah is channeling the summer.

oh  well, we all luv the summer. don't we?

&&&&&&

upon seeing her, i stood up lyk a typical lady in waiting. smiling as if she has just received an invitation to dine with prince harry, hannah approached the table like a super model, giving me kisses on both cheeks. i did the same.

"how's the bitch?" she said, still smiling, lips red as strawberry. she smelled of her favourite scent at the moment - marc jacobs daisy.  her all time favourite is of course - chanel number five. such a classy lady, really. i wonder how we became such good friends?! chos.

"luvly!' i replied.

i sat down. the waiter quickly helped her to her seat. "and you?"

"dreadful!"

that simple, one word statement made me salivate. it was enough to captivate my whole being. this promises to be another historic sunday brunch (which, to normal people will already be considered late lunch. lyk my family, who always have lunch at exactly twelve noon. if you come down to the dining hall late, say after an hour, there is nothing there but cold food stored in the fridge.)

"what happened?"i asked, feigning ignorance. i already heard some versions of it from other friends who sent me text messages last nyt and earlier this morning.

"you didn't know?"

"no."

"honestly?"

"honestly."

"that's odd."

"dahlin, the world does not revolve around you!"

we laughed. that was her favourite dialogue when i am in one of my drama queen moods, complaining about my boring job, non existent luv lyf,  elusive prince charmings (i'm old fashioned), tiresome sexual trysts, slutty friends, egocentric editors and egomaniacal bankers that i need to get stories from.

&&&&&

while eating and sipping coffee and juice, hannah started talking about her friday nyt "misadventure."

&&&&&&

the following is her unabridged, unedited, uncensored version:

"last nyt, i was having dinner with diane. oh yes, our anorexic friend. what is she? she was in one of her depressive moods. she said she had gained weight from all the delicious meals her new luver is feeding her. gosh, that woman. she weighs, what? like a paper and she thinks she is the fattest person on earth. what does she think of me then, a whale?! anyway, i let her bitch. i luv the food by the way. you know me, feed me italian dish and i am yours forever. but diane was not having any. she said she is trying to lose weight. oh my god, you should have seen her. she is as skinny as a sword fish."

we both laughed. that's what chic people do, by the way, laugh even at the least funny things.

anyway, let's hear hannah again. this is her moment. i am just the poor supporting friend here.

&&&&&

"so anyway, after dinner, she said she was going to this party by linda. the up and coming designer. you know her, right? the sad little rich girl from the south who studied at parsons and then law at harvard . i haven't met her personally, but i think you did. you interviewed her in one or was it after one of her fashion shows. never mind. but i must say, her dresses are so god damned awful, i don't know why everyone luvs her. they look cheap, lyk the ones you see in divi. my six year old niece can come up with better dresses. why did you ever bother to feature her in your magazine? but anyway, i told diane, i can't go because i'm not dressed for a party. i am in my house dress, i teased her. but mind you, i was wearing jason wu that nyt. but i didn't know linda.  she might think i was a bit presumptuous; showing up at her loft, uninvited, dressed in the latest jason wu. but diane assured me that linda has been aching to meet me. apparently, she has read and heard a lot about me."

we laughed again.

&&&&&

"i wonder...."

"i know."

"go on."

"i will, bitch!'

then she paused. sipped her margarita. the restaurant does not serve martinis at two in the afternoon, the waiter said.

"where was i before you rudely interrupted me? ah yes, so off we went to linda's malate flat. you know her, she has this thing against makati and the so-called posh people who live around here. can you imagine living that far from civilization. and the place looks. i don't know. malate has lost its lustre. the bohemian atmosphere is no longer there."

"i know. it's sad. you remember those street parties, the drunken nyts?"

"yes, those were the days? so fun. the disco days. how old were we then, sixteen? seventeen? fourteen? anyway, linda's flat is in this very old building, one of the few ones that survived the rapid urbanization of that place. there was no lift. we had to walk up the stairs to reach her fifth floor apartment. but once we were inside, it was worth it. her flat was glorious. so huge and she lives alone. it has the view of roxas boulevard, which at night is simply fabulous. it is gorgeous. i think linda is a far better home decorator than a fashion designer. her flat is modern eclectic with lots of philip starcks and old, vintage pieces from her lolas like aparadors. oh i luv those old aparadors. but later on, it felt so, not her. it's like she was trying to project this cerebral, intellectual person. that the shallow, oprah worshipping, gossip gurl fanatic linda in the latest lv dress is just a facade. when i used her bathroom, my god i saw books by edith wharton.  on the floor! the house of mirth. the age of innocence."

"so cultured."

"oh my god, when i am in the loo. all i could read are twits from my friends. or vogue. or vanity fair. but edith wharton. gosh. and in her bedroom, there were so many books on philosophy, economics, more classics from jane austen to jose rizal. she said she was reading noli me tangere. (pause) in spanish! (voice a bit higher) gosh! how pretentious. i wanted to leave right away. but guess who showed up."

"let me guess."

"yes,  drake. the hottest dick in town. oh he is glorious. so i stayed. it turned out that linda and drake had known each other since they were in pampers. who would have thought that that jane austen, edith wharton fashion designer wannabe dork was friends with a god like drake. so i grabbed drake and took him to the kitchen where there were only the two of us. we sat on on the small table and we started talking. i admit i was flirting and trying to seduce him. anyway, we sat alone in the kitchen, drinking beer. we were talking about movies. drake, turned out be be a film buff. that's why he is an actor, he said. so we talked about apocalypse now, the age of innocence (he said he has not read the book, but he luved the film. i assured him that most of us have not read the book but worshipped the film. daniel day lewis after all is on it.) so we talked some more. it turned out we liked the same movies - woody allen, whit stillman, francis ford coppola and his daughter sophia, wes anderson, lino brocka, ishmael bernal, pedro almodovar, bunuel. we laughed when i brought up the fact that our tastes in movies were as eclectic as linday's flat. we really got along well. then suddenly, i wanted to hit the bull's eye. i asked him if he wanted to go somewhere else. and he said, lyk where? so i said, somewhere quiet, just the two of us. then he started acting weird. he laughed hysterically and left me. when i followed him to the living room, everyone looked at me lyk i came from mars - some were laughing, some were eyeing me with dagger looks, even diane seemed upset. so i approached diane and asked her what was going on? diane told me that drake told everyone in the room that i wanted to have sex with him. what?! i asked diane, that prick. what did he do that for? because, diane said, he is gay!"

i couldn't help it. i burst out laughing. she pinched me.

"you didn't know?"

"you mean you knew?"

"everyone knows, dahlin!"

"why didn't you tell me?"

"you didn't ask."

"it was really embarrassing. i think my social standing has gone down by a bit."

"don't worry, dahlin. a little scandal always helps to keep people interested in you."

we laughed.

&&&&&&

more bitching. then it was time to go.

we capped our afternoon with coffee at this really luvly place in malate. for nostalgia.

outside, it was still sunny. it was already almost six.

it only means one thing, i told hannah.

i know, she said and we laughed as we headed to her car.