God, I am so fucking proud of myself. You see, last Friday, I took the MRT for the first time in years. Now this may not sound much to you, but for me, it’s one of the few “athletic” moments of my life I can be proud of. I say “athletic” because everybody familiar with the Ortigas area knows that the walk from Everybody who reads this blog knows that I, Mike ‘Fucking’ Villar, have a golden heart. And I have a golden heart because it’s wrapped in cholesterol and anything that involves some sort of physical effort is, to me, tantamount to a near death experience. The last time I played basketball, my left lung collapsed after a sad two minutes of walking up and down the court. Also, the last time I had something resembling sex with a woman (taking pictures of her wearing a cowboy hat while I yell demeaning stuff at her. Crying), I suffered a mild stroke that landed me in the hospital for two weeks. Then Jail.
Emerald Avenue to the Ortigas Station of the MRT is a long, treacherous one. Okay, it’s not; truth is it’s roughly a 150 meter walk through a friendly, urban landscape bustling mostly with call center zombies and weak-wristed metrosexual yuppies.