Nothing Personal II or A Tale of 2 Mothers & Daughters

There is a storm brewing just outside my window. The skies are as gray as the oatmeal  that has been stranded in my refrigerator for the past month.

And I still can’t get over my loathing at Jeane Napoles.

I’m sorry. I can’t help it. I detest her.

Here’s the truth: I think her sense of style is atrocious.

Chanel clutch? Herve Leger dress? YSL pumps? Who the hell does she think she is? Gossip girl?

Well guess what, Jeane, you’re not Blake Lively. You will never, in this lifetime, be Blake Lively. Being Paris Hilton is another matter.

Okay, Jeane apologists, you can throw your rotten tomatoes at me now. But I don’t care. Because I’ve been through worse.

Do you know the worst thing about you Jeane? Do you know where this rancid, putrid, decomposing wellspring of hatred of mine come from?

It’s because of your mother.

I spit at your face (of course this is the Internet, and hence; that statement is metaphorical) because of your mom.

I know, I know … you’re an innocent, yada yada. The sins of the mommys should not be passed on to their dear baby girls.

But humor me, will you Jeane. I’m sure you are a broad-minded girl so you won’t mind the next few paragraphs of pure rants.

I find it ironic that your mom is now embroiled in a scandal involving pork.

Guess what! My dear mother was into pork as well!

My mom was a butcher and a pork vendor. She would wake up at 2 am everyday to go to the slaughter-house. They would kill the pigs, scrape them clean; then she would sashay her tush into the public market where she sold pork every single day for 15 years.  I ate, drank, gotten schooled on, bought my clothes through – the profits of her pork.

Don’t you think this is poetic Jeane? We may be soul-sisters!

One difference, though. My mother is dead.

She died, when I was almost your age, of cancer. The cancer was probably due to eating too much pork fat. Boo hoo Mommy. I told you all  that pork was bad for your health. Ooops, sorry … no,  I wasn’t able to tell you that before you checked out. I always followed you and never lectured you; for I was always a respectful daughter. Much like Jeane Napoles, I would imagine.

Oh Jeane, on the other hand … I also envy you.

I envy you your perfect cleavage and your long long legs and your French posse – Chanel, Christian Lacroix and Cristian Loubotin. You do know how to pick them, my dear. I can barely pronounce them!

Call me a crab Jeane. After all, we Pinays, like our brother Pinoys,  are expert on crabs.

But one thing I can say for myself, I am not obscene.

So tell me, what can be more obscene than this:

Pictures were adapted from

Pictures were adapted from

 with this:


Word count: 492


I don’t want to impose myself on others so I try to keep my posts short ( < 500 words) and (I sure hope so) sweet Anastasia Christina – incorrigible blogger



  1. Janet and jeane napoles worships rhe devil….god is MONEY….money is GOD….they STOLE from poor hungry Filipinos….they killed millions of Filipino from hunger just to shop, spend and have parties!


  2. […] Well, why should I be surprised when your family owns a house in Forbes Park (the suburbia of the rich, famous and well-connected). And you live in Dasmarinas Village! An embarrassment of riches, baby ger? But then why should you be embarrassed for being loaded? Oh yeah, I forgot … Amazingly you don’t give a shit! […]


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