Holler, baby!
Phone #10. I'll surely miss the resiny, rubbery goodness, the state of the art flashlight, the badass analog keypad, and the orange, yellow, and green foam stars that I so lovingly glued, superbly, to your upper back. You didn't even live long enough to reach your 1st birthday. Whattadisgrace. R.I.P.
So in between a soup call ("Let me talk to your supervisor") that I completely wept about and that made people I didn't really know or talk to pat my back, stroke my school boy hair, and drop the almost-proverbial "Sinong umaway sa 'yo? Awayin natin!," an earthquake drill that required us ~Convergys Commonwealth Employees~ to go all the way down to our work building's lower basement (Wtf? Don't buildings crash bottom first in an earthquake? Good job, IBM.), and a very much hyped but very much genuine hypertensive attack, I lost my phone. With that phone was my already non-descript social life. I mean, geez, could there be anything worse than being cooped up in a place like Diliman Commercial Center?
This is Ada Lopez, by the way. And I don't want to die a wannabe/dork with no friends. I know, pathetic, right? So if this name (Ada Lopez, Amanda Lopez, Adakin Skywalker, Adamantium, Amanda Marie, Ada-luv, Adabelles, Hadabelles, Adalicious) rings a cognitive bell in any way at all to your pretty head, then by all means reply to this post with your name and number.
Now I can't promise you anything, but if you give me your number, I will forever be grateful to you. Not only that, I'll also send you muffins, a sports car, the girl or man of your dreams, and a briefcase crammed full of laundered money in return. But only if you say please.
So send me your numbers, please?
So in between a soup call ("Let me talk to your supervisor") that I completely wept about and that made people I didn't really know or talk to pat my back, stroke my school boy hair, and drop the almost-proverbial "Sinong umaway sa 'yo? Awayin natin!," an earthquake drill that required us ~Convergys Commonwealth Employees~ to go all the way down to our work building's lower basement (Wtf? Don't buildings crash bottom first in an earthquake? Good job, IBM.), and a very much hyped but very much genuine hypertensive attack, I lost my phone. With that phone was my already non-descript social life. I mean, geez, could there be anything worse than being cooped up in a place like Diliman Commercial Center?
This is Ada Lopez, by the way. And I don't want to die a wannabe/dork with no friends. I know, pathetic, right? So if this name (Ada Lopez, Amanda Lopez, Adakin Skywalker, Adamantium, Amanda Marie, Ada-luv, Adabelles, Hadabelles, Adalicious) rings a cognitive bell in any way at all to your pretty head, then by all means reply to this post with your name and number.
Now I can't promise you anything, but if you give me your number, I will forever be grateful to you. Not only that, I'll also send you muffins, a sports car, the girl or man of your dreams, and a briefcase crammed full of laundered money in return. But only if you say please.
So send me your numbers, please?