if you prick us, do we not bleed?

it's sunday, so let me be self-righteous and self-indulgent here. prick our conscience for a bit.

at my favourite coffee place this morning, while trying to clear my mind of cobwebs mostly composed of paranoia, sadness and a pinch of anger, a family of three arrived, aptly-dressed as though they were going to the hamptons for the weekend (tennis shorts, dark shades, rl polo shirts, expensive canvas shoes and sneakers) carrying with them two lovely midget dogs, the kind socialites in london or los angeles used to carry around seasons ago in their arms as though they were the latest it bags.

of course, this being manille, some were just catching up with a fad long gone in the first world.

then a uniformed maid arrived, carrying two more cute as a baby dogs, who looked exactly like the first two pets that the wife (i presume) and her teen-age daughter were carrying.

as soon as the maid arrived, before they even asked her to sit down and join them, the wife asked her what time was the doctor's appointment of the pampered pets? then she added that they also need to visit the grooming salon for their regular beautification.

(i wonder why the maid was working on a sunday. isn't it supposed to be her day off? i hope they were paying her triple for working on a sunday. while we are at it, why do some nouveau riche enjoy dressing their helps up in uniforms? so that they can announce to the world that they can afford to hire servants? in this day and age?)

that's all fine and lovely. if they can afford it, and it's their money after all, then go ahead spend a lot of it on those beloved pets.

but being the bitchy me, i suddenly remembered a news item about a little orphan boy, found near death (a bag of bones), dirty, naked, sleeping on a cold and cruel pavement in an orphanage (more like a slaughter house, really) and i could not help but think how lucky these dogs were compared to that poor little boy, a victim of cruelty from the hands that were supposed to nurture him, abandoned, helpless.

then another thought ran through my now pricked mind -- what if instead of having four highly maintained pets, this family only got one, or sige na nga, let me be generous, two, and use the budget for the other two to support those kids at the orphanage? wouldn't it be better if instead of spending hundreds of thousands on those pets (i adore them, by the way), they channel some of the money to support those poor, sick, abandoned and maltreated children?

frankly, after reading that news about the poor child, i felt so bad that i didn't have an appetite for a few days. i also stopped having my favourite coffee at my favourite place (the only luxury that i indulge these days, if i may add) because god knows (or whoever is out there), i could put these few pesos to better use by giving it away to those organizations taking care of those kids.

(here's the link to that pitiful boy's story, by the way: http://newsinfo.inquirer.net/650927/manila-shelter-for-street-kids-run-like-concentration-camp )

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some of us, especially the spoiled nouveau riche, really don't know how to spend money. if i had tons of cash, i will donate some of it to those charitable institutions that are taking care of the poor, the elderly, the invalid, the children and the orphans instead of spending it on expensive couture bags, shoes, and dresses. i mean, isn't a roomful of bags, shoes and dresses enough?

or equally horrible, spending it by hosting lavish parties for the equally rich just to show off their wealth!

i know it's easy for me to say this because i don't have that kind of money, but in my own way, i try to help. (now i am not going to elaborate more lest i'll be accused of blowing my own horn. chos!)

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speaking of lavish parties.

one time, in my past life, i attended someone's bash at an expensive place at the then still new "the fort" or bgc (where social climbers love to party nowadays), and on my way home at around three in the morning, the car (a friend's limousine) i was riding passed by under those filthy and sore to the eyes fly overs and my wandering eyes could not help but saw those pitiful homeless people living there, sleeping on the concrete floor with nothing but ragged cardboards to protect them from the cold.

(it was december, and ironically, those blinking christmas lights courtesy of the city government were their only source of light and most probably amusement. question: instead of putting up those christmas decorations that certainly cost a lot of money, including on power costs, why don't the government use it for social services to better the lives of their poor constituents?)

yes, you guessed it right, i felt so bad that i nearly threw up all the pricey foods and drinks that i consumed courtesy of the celebrant, a hight-ranking government official, by the way. i felt so guilty taking part in that charade. what business did i have gorging on those pricey foods and drinks knowing that the official probably charged it under his expense account, and therefore the government ended up paying for everything?! (and here i am always complaining about government corruption!)

since then, i carefully selected which parties and events i would go. most likely, if an invite comes from a high-ranking government official who will likely charge it to his expense account because he is as stingy as, never mind, then i will turn it down. but when i do go, i make sure that the next day, i would buy food and bottles of water and give them to street children, my way of purging my sins.

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that's all!

have a blessed sunday fairies, princesses, queens, pa-queens, queers, freeloaders, and social climbers!!