Day 19: C.F.

-Savagely dedicated to my girl chosera Kookie Valdez-Mills, with love and earnest adoration to leather boots and Corona

C.F.  (abbreviation for control freak)

a dimensional noun and adjective for Jon Verzosa

Origin:  Kookie Valdez-Mills, co written by Maria Lourdes Verzosa and Mark Ian Verzosa)

Terminology:  a derogatory term for a person who attempts to dictate how everything around them is done. It can also refer to someone with a limited number of things that they want done a specific way.

U.F.C.F. (abbreviation for Unbelievable Fucking Control Freak)

a dimensional noun and adjective for Jon Verzosa

Origin:  Alexandre Viaud

Motion in Speech:  with rolling eyes, looking up to the sky with arms open wide making a sound emphasis on Fucking!

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My close friends and family call me CF.  Short name for control freak.

The conspiracy, if one can estimate so, stemmed sometime last year when I opened Facebook accounts for my sister Dess and my brother Mark.  My lovely, intrepid girlfriend Kookie Mills, along with my sister and brother, ganged up on me behind my back and named me C.F., mocking my sordid whatchamacallit that derogatively implied on how I manipulated my younger siblings’ lives, to a point of opening my choice of social networking for them.  Of course, my other manipulations was laid on the table too like deciding where to have dinner, which apparel should go with what, what time we should arrive at a party (or how late should we arrive at a party), what movie to watch, how long should we eat and (the famous one), how one should act when sad, happy, ecstatic, horny and confused.  As it went along, my brother in law Alexandre called me U.F.C.F. (unbelievable fucking CF!)

There was a time when I had to force Kookie to smile with her teeth out because she has been displaying that famous Nicole Richie smile of hers for centuries and I just felt it was time to show some pearly whites.  At work, one time, I asked one guy to buy a shaver and  shave his stubbles one hour before his duty was over.  When Gracie was alive, I would pout my damndest if she declines a drinking invitation whenever I am thirsty for alcohol and ends up drinking Stellas with me 30 minutes later.

Just recently, here in Dubai, my sister and I along with my co-everything, Catherine, watched the magical Kitchie Nadal gig at Wafi Rooftop Gardens. We were friends with her drummer Zuriel Enchin, so we got the close-ups.  After the gig, the two girls, salivating and all wanted to have a pic with Kitchie but was too bashful to ask her.  Crumped with the satanist crowd, Dess and Catherine stood there, gawking, in front of Kitchie, muted with starstruckness.  I literally pushed Catherine and told her, “Move it girl!”  and simultaneously whispered to Dess, “F.A. attitude Dess! ”  F.A. being flight attendant.  But they stood there like stoooopid and did not do anything.  I finally had to tell Kitchie, “Hi.  We were the ones who were shouting for you to sing In A Big Way . . . ”   We heard her say, “Awww”  and then boldly, I said, “Can these girls have a picture with you?”  Kitchie smiled her biggest one that night and said, “Sure!”   Had it not been for my CFness, this picture never would have come to pass.

<———– (Catherine, Kitchie Nadal and Dess)

I mean, hello, is that BAD ?!?

Let’s look at the forensics:

1.  I am a first born son.  I am also the very first grandson.  Everyone called me kuya (older brother in Tagalog), even my mom and dad.

2. I was the president of the English Club in high school.  I was also the Features Editor of our school newspaper.

3. I majored in Literature and Creative Writing which means I am a God.

4. Once a restaurant general manager, I now work in training which means I author the books.

5. I am a bohemian by heart and I use my heart more than my head which makes me stubborn and absolutely free from reprehensible speech, detestable opinions and flaky neuroses.

Makes sense? 

See my creations . . .

Well, apart from my harbinger credentials and Mesapotamian origins, I am also a natural born dementia. Having an irascible childhood who dissected frogs at 6, built ant farms way until my 10th year and ate all kinds of leaves (thank you Angeline for making me remember) by the time I was in 5th grade.  All of these maddened juvenile activities was participated and attended by my sisters Kit, Angeline and Noreen, who are now recovering psychos like their kuya.  If you saw us 20 years back, we were literally children who spoke to themselves, replicating dialogues for our paper dolls and spent weekends in the terrace, lost in our world of exotic half cooked malunggay leaves and prismatic imagination.

——(Verzosa kids, shot taken in the 90s)————————————————————->

I remember telling my sisters that they should take care of their dolls because they walk at night and will get back at them if treated crudely.  I told them they will walk like zombies and strangle them to death in their sleep if they felt mistreated.  My sisters would pee in their pants and speak to their dolls nervously, “Don’t do that to me, OK?  OK? OK?”, running their fingers through their doll’s hair, kissing them before putting them to bed.

Summing it up, all my siblings grew up with me, listened to the same music I grew up with (of course I always had the remote), watched movies that I liked and read the books I voraciously read.

Oh, and apart from recovering psychos, Kit turned out to be a songwriter / poet, became a Marketing Director and currently works in Tourism.  Angeline is a professor at De La Salle University in the Philippines and a wonder mom of two boy monsters who became valedictorians.  Noreen runs her own business and gave us Apple – her daughter – our 24 carat niece known for her mathematical ingenuity and sensitive heart.

When my sister Dess was in 4th grade, I gave her Sophie’s World, a fat book on fictionalized philosophy, and she read it for the next 4 years of her bantam life.  She still blames me to this day for making her hermetic and a version of her own cult.  When she was studying at the University of the Philippines, making her own Sophie’s world and tripping through it as well, she half-wished I did not CF’ed her on reading SW at an early age because it genuinely captained her early years and drove her crazy !!!

Every time we fight and I run out of words to oppose her egghead logic, I would scream, “Tumigil ka na!  Kuya mo ako, ako ang masusunod!” “Shut up! I am older than you, I should be obeyed!”

Eventually, Dess became a resident actor at the Cultural Center of the Philippines, have starred in short films and is currently going around the world.  Not just Sophie’s.

When my brother Mark came to Dubai four years ago, he lived with me for four months.  It must have been dreadful for him!  He never really told me why he took off one day, got his own apartment and left me.  But I think I knew why.  He could not stand me.

Mark is a person who wants to be alone most of the time.  Well, not exactly.  He would rather be alone than be with me. What can I say?  I like breaking and entering in his droopy life.  I would bring my cleaning truck and dust it until it polishes.  I also use shock proofers so as not to electrocute his existence and make sure he reads the right things.  Mark listens to me.  I guess.  I know for a fact that he idolizes me but somehow, does not admit it.  Well, I could care less, as long he is breathing right and not drinking too much.  For crying out loud, he is my favorite brother.  Well, he is the only I have, so I don’t have much choice but to make sure he knows that I am always right.

Mark Ian is everyone’s darling.  Everyone loves him from his friends to my friends because of his unfeigned kindness.  He is a competitive worker and a dimensional leader in his field.  Thanks to our CF parents and well, thanks to me.

When I met Kookie Valdez in 2006, I did not like her at all.  I told myself, “What is this chatterbox of a woman doing in my midst?”

The “it” girl of her time, as our adorable friend Pearl Villareal would say, I literally suspended myself from Kookie’s pantomime lips because she tells stories and acts with it too.  Her shrill voice can ape a thousand crescendos, bringing the entire house down.  She was, without a doubt, a party girl central and someone who will not go in a relationship because she is narcissistic and loves herself as much she loves her signature apparel and fabulous boots.

<—(shot taken in 2007 the Party Year)——Along the way, we became very close. When Kookie came into my life, apart from the hip parties we bared our souls into, our beach moments at the Beach Park and our brainstorming about the then-Bible The Secret, I saw a girl needing love more than anything else.  Clad in fashion statements, bejeweled and wearing Coco Chanel, I raked into her and found a lonely spot in her heart.  Eventually.

A yearning last born who longed to be validated and be reassured, I CF’ed my way to introducing him to William Mills, primo chef, co-alcoholic and English billiard master. The first time Kookie saw William, she was primadonnaying, telling me, “Not my type, guuurrrrllll !!!”  I curbed her head, with my chocolatey assurances, and told her, “This is the man for you, biatch! Trust me!”.

Being always right, I knew back then that William will chill out Kookie’s hyperacidic mindset and restless sanctum.  Well, both of them are psychos anyway so it did make sense.  Likewise, I knew that Kookie will calm William’s diabolic worship for beer.  Moreover, William’s Leo heart is a perfect match for Kookie’s indecisive Libran heart.

They fell in love.

A year and a half later, William married Kookie.

Footnotes of BEING A C.F.

Use sparingly.

• It’s difficult for you to trust people.
• You make lists for everything in your life.
• You can’t stand it when you’re in a car but not driving.
• As much as possible, you need to do everything yourself.
• You rarely think that you’re wrong.

• You love to be the center of attention.
• When it comes to social gatherings, you prefer to do the planning.
• You get bored when you have to listen to other people talk.
• Your vacations tend to be structured and active.
• You tend to think that you know what’s best for other people.

• You don’t like people touching your stuff.
• When you’re in a relationship, you like to know where your significant other is at all times.
• You are definitely a perfectionist – and your own worst critic.
• It’s hard for you to get used to a new hair style or new pair of jeans.
• You would not really enjoy a surprise party thrown for you.