Goddess, I Am.

And so dewy Iris flew down from the sky on saffron-colored wings, trailing a thousand different colors across the sun… - From Virgil’s Aeneid

You know what they say: birds of a feather, yada yada yada. Well, everyone knows I'm a strange girl, so it's only perfectly natural that I'm surrounded by strange people.

Take my family, for instance. I have a mother who dances 80s dance steps while cooking binignit, and a little sister who truly believes her unborn child determines her daily diet. I had an aunt who developed a weird, nasal British accent that's definitely nothing like Harry Potter after living in London for just a little over a year. Not only that, I have a grandma who believes that her dreams determine the fate of the world (or at least, mine), the latest of which had something to do with me being in jail in Thailand.

Even the boyfriend is no different. The man actually drags me off jeepneys when they dilly-dally too long in Country Mall trying to hound passengers. He even makes me fight for the P0.50 rollback fare cut, not for the money, but (to use his words) “for the principle of the matter.”

It's only inevitable that my friends are strange creatures, as well. One of my best friends lived with her Dutch boyfriend for months and never – and I mean, NEVER – slept with him once. Another one 'borrowed' my travel pictures a year ago and passed them off as her own in Friendster (even if we don't look anything alike) to make her cheating ex jealous of her 'wanderings' – and they're still there to this day. And let's not forget my best friend who has lost so many marbles over the years that whoever found them probably now has a full set (Peace, Lhen!).

But I do have friends who are quite normal – that is, until they exhibit undeniably crazy behavior. Take Chin for example. At first glance, she's this cute little thing with a family just as cute that they may as well be in one of those soy sauce adverts. Possibly the most ridiculous thing that she's ever done was set me up with a guy who believed he looked like Van Damme when he just looked, well, goddamned (for lack of better words), and write an article on hair when she's meant to be writing about nails. Nope, nothing strange there at all.

It's amazing, however, how one's grief over a computer that crashed with no warning, taking with it file after file of written articles, can drive one to a drunken stupor so severe that one quite suddenly discovers a hidden talent in bongo-playing, which must be unveiled in that very bar on the very night of one's epiphany as what can be seen here:

Love the dress, love the shoes, but most of all, love the uber smug look.

Ahhh, yes. My friends are strange, indeed. Thank heavens for that, or I wouldn't be laughing so much on a regular basis.