"They' hot and you're not!"The "It" girls (Ita na girls) are the 2-woman militia of the place. They make sure everything is sparkly and screechingly clean, including my ego. You see, I'm the sort of boy whose jokes, if fell flat, says it all over again until you get the hint that you REALLY have to laugh if you fear for your life and the national security, and the 'it' girls only know that too well. Let me take the liberty to profile them
"It" girl number 1. "She's hot! She's as black as your crumpled carbon paper" Doonahhhhh (I require you to extend the last syllable until your lungs shout for air.).
-She is the one I always ask about the first moment I get in the house, and she gets the most of the loot everytime I travel, the last time I went in her room, I saw a Victoria's Secret complete body line, Body shimmer included so don't be scared when you see a slimy creature doing the laundry in the backyard. Having been with me for the longest time, she has earned the "retort license" thus maintaining the body count statistic one notch lower. I have gone into the habit of asking her at every opportunity "Doonah? Maganda ka ba?" in which she quickly retorts "OOnamanYesKuya" in one syllable, and then she bats her eyelids like a possessed voodoo doll with a conjunctivitis.
She knows me through and through, which is a bit sad because I can no longer give her a cardiac arrest. When she hears me clumsily getting about my room in the morning, she sets the table. Her motto is God is in the detail, so she matches my placemat with the coaster. She knows the stuff I find inedible, she knows the color of the underwear I am wearing, she knows If I'm running out of an aftershave, or a perfume, she even promptly USB Charges my mobile phone before it even blinks red, as well as the Ipods. We're in cahoots in times of my alcohol binging and some 'pecadilloes'. I remember one time, I left the aircon on for 32 hours and when my mom came in from a vacation, she'd ferreted it out and furiously stormed into my room. Doonah then melodramatically said "Ati, Patay yan, Nag iliktric pan lang si Kuya DJ" and my mom answered " Eh Bakit ang lamig lamig ng sahig?". Doonah quickly quipped. "Nabuhusan ku yan ng yilo ate, Naglampaso ako para mamatay ang mga anntz". After that, I was thrown down into the room with neither a window nor an electric fan for a week, Doonah has a convincing power of a drugged carabao, but she still tries to keep up a fight, eventhough a no-win one.
Doonah is a rather petite girl, you can even stuff her inside your drawer with a few space left for your vanity bag. She has hair that defies the law of gravity, and the only way to tame it is to put a hollow block on top of it. She has a kind of laugh that makes your hair stands on end, I dont know about your 'it' girl but mine, laughs like a possessed blender. She is horribly clumsy thus the polka dot pattern on her legs. One time, out of sheer boredom and neurotic tendency, on her sleep, I connected those dots with a marker hoping to create an elaborate pattern, it looked like a demented sketch of a suspension bridge.
She has a golden brown complexion, or should I say a deep golden brown, or perhaps rust?
I cant tell exactly which but I find it really nice. A foreigner's delight! But its pretty obvious she dislikes it for she blows her meager salary on papaya soaps and whitening whatevs. There was a time when she was heavily sloughing off skin that everytime she would get near the table, I would cover my glass for fear of ingesting some of her dead skin cells. She, like the half of the population, had also got bitten by this "Belo' hype. It took a little over a month for her to stop musing the famous catchphrase: "Oonly Bee-low tat-ches my skin". At which we would cackle a sarcastic reply,
"But who touches Doona's Boobies?"-"Only Tasyo touches Doona's Boobies".
Tasyo is the village guard who roams the street at night, our Doonah's paramour, her "Bibs".
I digress.
