Unless some magical shit has turned my friends into midgets suffering from severe case of hair loss and some dental disease, I’d like to think that all of these profile photos of bald, toothless beings in my Friendster list are human babies.
These babies aren’t my friends. They’re my nieces, my nephews who will one day show up at my doorstep with a warrant of arrest for multiple gift evasion suits.
I wonder why they are posing as my friends.
My friends party hard! My friends eat Cosmopolitan for breakfast and devour Vogue for lunch. They chain smoke. They drink too much coffee and live on tequila.
They don’t watch Tagalog movies (at least they pretend that they do not). They pick-on my bad English. They’ve been to an Alanis tour and would be at a Tori Amos’ given a chance.
They gyrate with INOJ. They sleep late and wake-up later.
Gad I miss my college friends.
Perhaps they’ve left.
Cry-fitting infants are standing-in for them while they’re gone to some where-adults-should-be-when-they-turn-30 convention.
Diaper clad kids have taken their place.
Maybe they’re all gone.
Maybe I stayed behind.