What Can Be Worse than Being a Boy?

I have begun reading Caramelo, a novel by Sandra Cisneros. I should have started it long ago especially because it’s been a year since I bought it at the Powerbooks sale for 1/3 its original price. I have postponed reading it because of the other books I have stuck in a queue: The Unbearable Lightness of Being by my favorite Milan Kundera, The Bronte Project by Jennifer Vandever (which sucked by the way), Pugad Baboy Nineteen by Pol Medina. Kiko Machine 3 & 4 by Manix Abrera (I count them as books), Twisted 9: The Night of the Living Twisted by Jessica Zafra, Smoke and Mirrors by Neil Gaiman—to name a few. Oh, let’s not forget how Caramelo’s 434 pages intimidate me, hence the dramatic procrastination.

Let me just say that, finally, I’m done with Smoke and Mirrors. It took me more than two years. Haha! So much for being a slow reader. Good thing Smoke and Mirrors is a compilation of short stories instead of being a full-length novel. Otherwise, I would have to re-read from the beginning every time I resume from long uncalled for pauses. (But then again, I intentionally stopped reading it because I had a “special plan” in finishing it; however the “special plan” was terminated due to unfortunate circumstances. Thus I ended up reading it on more normal occasions.)

Back to Caramelo which is very much reminiscent in terms of the style of Cisneros’ House on Mango Street, I am starting to enjoy it. The injected Mexican/Spanish expressions, however, tend distract me as I didn’t have any formal classes on the language. But they keep me on my toes. Common sense is stepping in just so I can translate those I can afford to translate, thanks to the Spanish influence on my own language and to the very handy context clues. Now I feel like a polyglot.

With the Filipino culture not too far away from the Mexican way of life, reading Caramelo elevates what could be a vicarious experience to a more real one. I can’t help but associate some of the scenes from my life’s early chapters with the first few pages of Caramelo.

Lala, the main character and narrator, has an observant and honest way about her; it is difficult not to think of her as you--well in my case, of me. One winning moment was when her family brought her to a parlor and had her braids cut off. Her six older brothers wouldn’t stop teasing her. They said she looked like a boy with her short hair.

I recall how I cried every time my mom would have my hair cut very short. She said I didn’t know how to comb my hair, so it was better to get rid of most of my hair. I hated having very short hair because I didn’t want to look like a boy. For a little girl like me, it was traumatic to look like a boy.

Ironically, I am more than willing to shave my hair off these days. I’ve been thinking how much convenient it will be if I were rich and could afford not to go out of the house for a month or afford to buy the most effective hair grower in case I get embarrassed or tired of being bald. But I will be bald someday. After all, all it takes is a sharp shaver on my hand and I’d rid of my hair in no time. Wouldn’t that be cool?

So one of Lala’s brothers goes, “what can be worse than being a boy?”

“Being a girl!” The other says.

Not! A lot can be worse.

Like looking like a boy when you’re a girl.

Or postponing being bald.

Or maybe not finishing the books you read. (Note to self: I should get to page 434 before the year ends.)

Well, a lot can definitely be worse. And I mean A LOT.

The One with the Dozen Krispy Kremes

People, barter trade is alive!

Last Sunday, I received a dozen Original Glazed Krispy Kreme doughnuts for rendering my services and whatever artistic touch I could pull within me. And although monetary compensation would have helped the “starving” me, the doughnuts were sweeter! Especially when minutes before the loops arrived, I was craving for at least a couple of their kind.

I refused to charge who might have been my first paying client. After all she is a family friend. But with her, as well as of the baby’s parents’, satisfied remarks on the “job” I delivered plus the unexpected Krispy Kremes, I am quite convinced that I just might have a future in the invitation-making business.

I may take designing invitations seriously from hereon forward. A good friend advised me to start charging especially since it’s no secret that I need cash, lots of them.

Feel free to commission me for invitation projects. I may specialize on children’s parties: baptisms and birthdays. Weddings and debuts? Well, let’s just see if I’ll develop the aptitude for them.

For now, here is a showcase of my latest venture:

Cover of the two-sheet invite


Second page printed on parchment paper



Cover design for the CD souvenir

An Ode to Ysh

Yesterday, I found myself in a more quiet part of Makati. It was definitely more shala, populated by the rich, thus explaining why I had to walk several blocks in order to avail of public transport that’ll eventually bring me home. I could not very well afford a cab.

At the heart of the place was a park which closely resembled the park my niece visited every afternoon where I, too, occasionally hang out to let a few hours of my days in Singapore pass.

And then I remembered the article I should have written last October 4 which I never got to write. Eighteen days is a bit late but I’ll go on with it still. Today.

It is so easy to feel home sick when all it takes is to step out of the house to feel like the odd person out. So I find it a blessing to have had my niece around to entertain me in what-could-have-been my empty moments in a foreign country.

My three months of playing with Yzee, my niece, in itself is a blessing. I’ve already missed 8 months of her and as it is, I will continue to miss her growing up years. I consider the three months I’ve spent with her precious, priceless. From the moment she waived “hi” at me, showed me her latest tricks when I arrived to the time she spoke “mamamama”, “tee-tah!”, etc. and took her wobbly first steps while I was packing my stuff, I will keep them all in a special place in my heart.

I’m taking this time to share some of what I’d consider prized moments little Yzee. I’m displaying them here like any proud Tita.

She had me at Hello!



Actually, she had me at “Hi.” I’d like to believe I taught her to say “hello” on her toy phone which I called her “cordless phone” to distinguish it from her toy cellphone and the phone attached to her playpen which I called her “landline”.


Minnie Yzee



When I arrived, Yzee was sort of crib-bound. Here she seemed to understand that I was taking her photo with the Minnie Mouse toy given by her other Tita.


Little Buddhas with no Hair



I don’t think Yzee found the little stiff Buddhas with no hair in the Chinese Garden charming.


Maybe I’ll teach her how to bowl



If I become good at bowling and if I get a chance to spend time with my niece in the future, well then, I just might be able to teach her how to bowl.


Channeling Richard Simmons



She loves her headbands and although her look may seem to resemble that of the annoying Richard Simmons, I think Yzee is way cuter. And not Annoying at all!


Little Yzee wants to play



We were on our way to the park when the rain got in the way. We instead stayed at a covered space near the house where incidentally Yzee’s playmates were also stuck. Even the Singaporean kids thought Yzee looked cute in the dress Mamu picked for her.


Love it!



Before heading to a baptism, Yzee and I took some time to exercise her new trick. Her “Love it!” trick where she raises her arms upon hearing “Love it!” The TV ad for Xoom.com has taken it toll on my niece’s young brain.


Rollercoaster



We were both bored. I started swinging Yzee up and down, left and right. She enjoyed it! Apparently she has no motion sickness.


Super V



I got no objections from Yzee when I attached a foam V on her head. She even stayed still for this photo.


Yzee at the Park



Yes, she loves to slide!


Look, Mum, No Hands!



By the time I left, Yzee knew how to stand and walk on her own. Then she turned one.


Pretty Face



Another one of her tricks: flashing her pretty face.


In Pink



Here’s probably one of our last photos together. At this time I was teaching her to say, “rrrr.”

Rrrrr!

Second Thoughts for NBSB’s

“Ha? Ano?? Ows???”

Yes, I get that a lot every time I confess that I’ve had no boyfriend since birth. The sighs of disbelief come not because I am too pretty not to have had a boyfriend but because of the fact that I am 28 years old. (Note how, in our country, the word “old” reverberates when within close proximity to 28.) It just so happen that these are two things I am always honest about. That I’m an NBSB (No Boyfriend Since Birth) and that I’m 28.

Usually the follow up question of those people who, for some reason, get half blown away by my romantic life—or lack thereof—is a condescending, “why?” The truth is, if I knew the answer then maybe I’d be in a relationship by now. Apparently, neither I can explain why I have been single forever.

It doesn’t take long before the people who probe on my non-existent love life treat me like I’m a freak. It is as if they are suddenly cloaked with gleaming pity over me. Like my lack of a love life is something to be sorry about. Then those who get too much involved exhaust all possible means to hook me up with someone they know, and sometimes, with someone they don’t even know. I think that my romantic status give them the notion that I need them to save me.

However, I’ve grown used to it. For people to treat me indifferently for not being able to find my own pair, whether it is the right one for me or not. For people to feel sorry for me for being alone without even asking me if I am lonely. For people to worry for me whereas I am a healthy 28-year-old with a college degree to boast alongside my other accomplishments as a single woman.

I can let unsolicited reactions pass. But then, some would just have to pry literally below the belt and go all nasty. Take for example the rude question thrown at me by a supposed educated middle-aged woman who hasn’t earned the position to ask me her poorly thought question packaged in an undeniably mocking tone, “E di virgin ka pa?”

I was so close to smacking her down by looking her in the eye and delivering a stinging, “The state of my hymen is none of you business,” then punctuating my point with a satisfying flip of hair. But I figured, I will be no better than that woman if I stoop down to her alarming level of politeness. I think my simple yet truthful candid reply was somewhere around, “tama bang itanong sa akin yan?” It just goes to show that my being an NBSB at 28 doesn’t make me less civilized.

Perhaps it has been on top of my life’s list of mysteries, why some people get a kick out of taunting NBSB’s. Why people like me are pitied, if not ridiculed. To think we are all born without a lover. By default, we came into this world single. I can hardly reconcile why those who remained solo are looked down upon by some members of our society.

What most people fail to realize is that, although people like me have been single all our lives, it is possible that we are happy and contented. We do not have to feel incomplete or inadequate because we have never been in a relationship. And, by God, we do not need to doubt our sexuality just because we have no specimen lover whose gender will define ours. Yes, we are missing out on some probable great things but we are not miserable for missing them. Believe me when I say that there are more heavy stuff available in life to be justifiably miserable about. NBSB-ness will cringe at the sight of the items on that list.

I admit that some comments of people around me sometimes affect me more than I should be allowing them. It sounds to me like it’s a curse when they say that if I don’t get my man soon, I am sure to grow old alone. That it may be too late before I realize what I have been missing. That my parents will think of me as their unfinished business for not being able to “endorse” me to someone who will take care of me the way they did.

But I guess, I’d be a fool if I let comments like those haunt me and hinder me from enjoying my life. Sure the chances of snagging someone who’d stay with me until I’m old and gray drop every year while no point is recorded on my “boyfriend count” scoreboard. But why should I bother myself with bugaboos implanted by those who think their ability hold hands with someone make them better than me?

My life is far from being devoid of love. I have enough people around me to love and these people happen to be good at loving me back. I don’t think I’ll have to worry about feeling alone or empty at all. My parents, on the other hand, can take comfort in the thought that they raised their daughter as a self-sufficient woman who, more often than not, can take care of herself.

I appreciate those who care too much about me that they wish that I, too, will be able to experience the bliss of having one’s own love life. I understand them. I really do. But I wish that they, too, will understand that there are some things that cannot be forced. That things will happen if they are bound to happen. And if indeed, I am destined to pair up with someone in the future, who am I to deny myself that? But while circumstances in my life are not headed to that direction, I think I have the right to continue enjoying my life as it unfolds. I find it unnecessary to wait for a probable Prince Charming, pine away for his coming when I have smoothly been getting by my life on a solo flight for the past 28 years.

I have been around long enough to catch people thoughtlessly drop snide remarks against old maids, let alone NBSB’s. I am beginning to accept the fact that as long as I don’t pair up with anyone, I am sure to catch harsher quips especially designed for NBSB’s like me. Quips like, “hindi pa kasi nagkaka-boyfriend kaya masungit.” One slip and non sequitur blows will conveniently come out of the mouths those who have a thing against single people. The worst part is, the more years I count romantically-free, the tougher remarks I am certain to receive.

Society is unkind to old maids; it is especially mean to NBSB’s. I don’t know why it is so but I know that it is not how it’s supposed to be.

If some people find it hard to believe that someone like me can live for 28 years without having a boyfriend, I find it even more baffling how these people can easily make fun of my romantic status as well as of others like me. Because if these people really are as superior to us who have gone solo as they probably think they are, then they’d be contented with their lives—so contented that they will constantly have second thoughts in insulting NBSB’s like me.

And if the time will come when I find myself as one half of a pair, I shall be contented—so contented that I wouldn’t find it necessary to mock anyone just for a snort.

Bored ka na ba, walang magawa at nalolongkot?

Time to make fun of things. Kaya heto at dumapo tayo sa Pinoy showbiz.

Dahil sa movie ni KC Concepcion with Richard Guttierez, naging panay ang labas niya sa TV for interviews and other pa-cute numbers.

While watching one of her recent TV appearances, Kuya Wah asserted that parang high school classmate mo lang si KC dahil sa paraan ng pagsasalita niya. If I may add, para nga siyang high school classmate dahil bukod doon, halos sabay na kayong lumaki, almost alam mo ang mga pinaggagagawa niya sa school at nakakarating din sa iyo, effortlessly, ang mga balibalita sa family life niya from time to time.

In that light, napag-tripan kong maglista ng mga artista at ang kanilang PARANG relasyon sa ating mga ordinaryong mamamayan, kung hindi man sa akin. Ano ang aking criteria sa pag-classify sa kanila? Wala lang, yung aura lang nila. As I’ve said, trip nga ito.

Kung si KC ay classmate, si Angel Locsin naman ang dati mong schoolmate na pa-swimming-swimming lang noon at di mo akalaing magiging Darna pala someday. Never kayong naging close, except na naka-peace be with you mo siya sa isa sa mga congregational mass ninyo noon.

Meanwhile, si Dennis Trillo yung undiscovered gwaping, if not silent eye candy, na classmate mo sa isang G.E. class—Comm 2 siguro—noong college ka. Sa harap ka naka-upo, siya naman nasa likod na bahagi ng classroom.

May dalawa namang college BMOC (Big Man On Campus) na di mo magets kung papaanong naging heartthrobs. Si Richard Gutierrez at si Jericho Rosales yon. Si Richard yung kapag naging groupmate mo e hindi nag-aattend ng meetings or kung mag-attend man e parang wala rin siya dahil hindi nagsusuggest ng kahit ano para sa project ninyo. Si Jericho naman yung type na natutulog habang nagmimeeting kayo.

Si Mareng Winnie yung prof mo noong college na mahilig mag-overtime kaya lagi kang nalalate sa next class mo. [Note: Never ko siyang naging teacher and I have no idea kung ganoon nga siya sa totoong buhay, but I get that impression from her.] Muntik ka na ngang ma-drop sa next class mo. Mabuti na lang at fan ng Debate with Mare at Pare yung instructor mo doon. Nadaan mo sa pakiusap ang dapat sanang “drop” mo sa classcard.

On the other hand, si Kuya Bodgie yung teacher mo noon sa Day Care. Di mo na siya masyado maalala except sa mga maraming kwento niya. At minsang nanggaling ka sa trabaho, nakasakay mo siya sa MRT. Nahihiya ka lang batiin siya dahil baka di ka na niya naaalala.

Si Miriam Defensor Santiago at si GMA yung kaklase mo nung elementary na spy ng teacher. In short, choochoo. Sila ang taga-buko ng kalokohan ng lahat ng mga bata sa klase. OA din silang dalawa sa pag-paparticipate sa class. Halos magkakulani na sa kilikili sa katataas ng kamay para lang maka-recite.

Yung classmate mo namang all-time favorite ng klase na maging leader sa kahit anumang grouping e si Michael V. Kahit kulang kayo sa research, kaya niyang daanin sa performance ang reporting ninyo. Di mahahalata ng teacher na di kayo tunay na prepared.

Malipat naman tayo sa people in your neighborhood. Si Aiza Seguerra yung dati ninyong kapitbahay na kala-kalaro mo lang dati. Akalain mong mauunahan pa niyang magbinata ang kapatid mo at na madedevelop rin pala ang vocal cords niya one day. Still, you are happy for her, err, him.

Si Willie Revillame yung epal na kapitbahay ninyo na may pagka-Don Facundo sa hangin. Me pagka-manyak rin kaya pinagdadasal mo na wag mo siyang makakasalubong every time na lalabas ka ng bahay ninyo nang mag-isa. Ang maganda lang sa kanya, napapakinabangan ng iba ninyo pang kapitbahay ang yabang niya tuwing may pa-liga sa baranggay. Willing siya maging sponsor ng mga uniforms, medals at trophies.

Si Cristy Fermin naman yung madaldal mong kapitbahay na may pagka-omniscient; parang alam niya ang mga nangyayari sa buhay ng lahat ng tao sa buong baranggay ninyo. Hangga’t maaari ayaw mo siyang patuluyin sa bahay ninyo at kapag pinatuloy mo naman siya, wala siyang pakundangang hihingi ng…JUICE.

Doon sa sari-sari store sa may kanto madalas tumabay si Ping Medina. Ilag ka sa kanya dati dahil malakas mang-Alaska. Pero naka-usap mo siya once and surprisingly, makes sense ang tambay na iyon.

Mapunta naman tayo sa family tree. Si Hero Angeles yung pinsan mong matagal ka nang walang balita. Nagulat ka na lang na buhay pa naman siya at, salamat sa Diyos, dahil hindi naman aadik-adik.

Tito mo Johnny Delgado. Kapatid siya ng daddy mo, if not pinsan. May bahay sila sa Cubao at tuwing bumibisita ka sa kanila, ang laging sineserve ng kasambahay nila sa inyo ay Coke at mani.

Ninong mo naman sina Christopher De Leon at si Albert Martinez. At talagang umattend sila nung binyag mo.

Kainuman ng daddy mo sina Tito, Vic at Joey. Sa tuwing may gathering, present silang tatlo kaya sanay ka nang nakikita silang nagjo-joke time, from sober mode to lasing mode.

Dating officemate ng daddy mo si Jim Paredes. Kinakausap ka niya noon tuwing dinadala ka ng dad mo sa office after ka sanang ihatid ka school only to find out na suspended pala ang klase.

Si Anabelle Rama at si Malou De Guzman ay parehong berks ng mommy. Ilag ka kay Anabelle pero para mo na rin siyang mommy. Si Malou naman, madalas mangaral sa iyo kung nabalitaan niyang may palpak kang nagawa. Pansin mo rin na sinosolo niya ang Magic Sing mic sa tuwing may kantahan sa bahay ninyo.

Anak ng tita mo (kaibigan ng mommy mo) si Dingdong Dantes. Kinilig ang friends mo nang malaman nila na may konek ka kay Dingdong. Pero once mo lang nakita si Dingdong in person. The rest of the time, sa TV na lang.

Malayong pinsan ng mommy mo si Jaime Fabregas. Future ninong sa kasal mo siya, if not ninong mo na nga.

Si Bayani Agbayani naman yung head security sa office ng mommy mo. Di ka makagalaw mabuti kapag andyan siya dahil feeling mo, lahat nang ginagawa mo ay minamanmanan niya.

Finally, si Pokwang yung babaeng nakatabi mo nung pumila ka ng 5 hours sa DFA. Mangiyak-ngiyak niyang shinare sa iyo na nawala ang passport niya kaya hayun at pumipila na naman siya para sa panibagong passport.

* * *
Picture sources:
Angel: http://www.angellocsin.org/photos.html
Dennis: http://male.thedailymodel.com/dennis-trillo
Richard: http://www.newsflash.org/2004/02/sb/sb003780.htm
Echo: http://www.pep.ph/articles/guide/66
Mareng Winnie: http://www.nsclub.net/marengwinnie/resume.htm
Kuya Bodgie: http://kwentongbayan.blog.friendster.com/2006/09/pagmulat-ng-mata/
Bitoy: http://www.flickr.com/photos/chloe04/1407124222/
Miriam Defensor Santiago: http://www.miriam.com.ph/index-mds.htm
GMA: http://www.informarn.nl/informes/asiayoceania/act010501_dusturbiosenfilipina
Aiza: http://www.carouselpinoy.com/aizacaroustar.html
Willie: http://www.newsflash.org/2004/02/sb/sb003581.htm
Cristy: forums.abs-cbn.com/thread/2082450.aspx
Ping: http://www.pep.ph/articles/15254/Stars-and-their-businesses:-Ping-Medina
Hero: http://www.pep.ph/news/16843/FIRST-READ-ON-PEP:-Hero-Angeles-joins-the-cast-of-Dyesebel
Johnny www.tsinoy.com/forum/printthread.php?t=6064&pp=40
Christopher: http://www.pep.ph/news/13147/Christopher-de-Leon-will-return-to-%22Maging-Sino-Ka-Man
Albert: http://www.pep.ph/guide/1915/Albert-Martinez-excited-about-his-Philippine-Malaysian-soap
TVJ: http://ricojr.wordpress.com/2007/04/10/eatbulaga-and-27-years-of-making-the-pinoys-happy/
Jim: http://www.cnetwork.org.ph/media.asp?section=news&id=28
Annabelle: www.abante-tonite.com/issue/aug2207/showbiz_3.htm
Malu: flickr.com/photos/raincontreras/2635379357
Dingdong: http://www.pep.ph/news/16803/Dingdong-Dantes-on-maybe-falling-in-love-with-Marian:-Lahat-naman-posible./2
Jaime: http://contents.igma.tv/igmaweb/webpics/photos/295_608/jaime-fabregas.jpg
Bayani: http://www.titikpilipino.com/news/index.php?aid=159&msgid=11970&offset=160
Pokwang: www.malaya.com.ph/sep20/ente_1.htm

Love in the Time of Dengue

Php 8.50 ang minimum fare sa jeep. Php12.50 naman ang sa bus. Ang FX naman na byaheng Megamall to Pasig, Php23.00 ang singil, malayo man o malapit. Baka daw magka-rollback sa pamasahe but who knows kung gaano lang ka-saglit ipapatupad ito.

Php 54.00 na ang isang malaking lata ng Century Tuna. In vegetable oil pa lang yun.

Php 70+ ang isang big bar ng Magnolia Gold Butter—salted man o hindi.

Php 28.00 naman ang maliit na bottle ng Heinz Tomato Ketchup. Php 19.00 lang yun dati! (Hindi pa ang nasusunog ang Puregold sa Shaw noon!)

Php 23.00 na ang isang malaking Johnson’s baby soap. Wala pa ring Php20.00 ito dati (even after matayo muli ang nasunog na Puregold).

Nanganganib na tumaas ang singil sa bawat text message sent. Kapag tinaasan daw ng gobyerno ang tax ng mga cellphone companies, ipapasa nila sa consumers ang panibagong pabigat sa kanilang negosyo. These cellphone companies learned from the best. Role model nila ang MERALCO. Walang lugi dahil sa patrons ipinapasa ang lugi.

Mabuti pa nga ang presyo ng mga bilihin, nagmamahalan! Yung mga tao, hindi.

Sa panahon kung saan na-upstage na ng Dengue ang cholera, nagiging luxury na rin ang love. Mangilan-ngilan na lang ang nakaka-afford magmahal! (Naks!)

Ispeysal day ang araw na ito sa dalawang tao na, by default, will always be dear to me. Perhaps nag-fade na ang essence ng ispeysal-ness ng araw na ito for them kaya di ko sila mabati. Then again, this day made a lot of things possible. Kasali ako sa mga naging possible nang dahil sa araw na ito. Kaya anu’t ano pa man, I thank God sa magic na ginawa niya 31 years ago.

I’ll end my post modern piece with this photo na na-capture ko sa isang souvenir shop sa Sentosa the last time I was there.



Kahit commodity na ang love, I wish people this much happiness if they are, indeed, up for this kind of happy.

Under the Weather

Ha-choo!

I swear! Sneezing drains a whole lot of my energy. After one heart-full sneeze, I feel weak. Devoid of whatever powers I have. Imagine what a chain of sneezes does to me.

More than once, I tried having fun with sneezing. Even if sneezing is an involuntary reaction to a spontaneous stimuli, I, the perennial control freak, tried to manipulate my sneezes in such a way that I utter synonyms of the word “sneeze” while sneezing.

Before anything else, I tried “sneeze!” Do Americans really “sneeze?” (This question is similar to asking if American chickens really say “Cock-a-doodle-doo!” whereas ours simply say, “Tik-ti-la-ok!”) Because if Americans really do “sneeze,” then they do it with a smile. Try it! You’ll catch yourself smiling, too.

“Ha-choo” produces a solid surge of spit and what-have-you.

“Ha-ching” is so demure and is almost neat.

“Ba-heng,” on the other hand, is as scandalous as it is messy.

“Ching” alone, is bitin to say the least. Kulang sa buwelo kung baga. It’s like letting out a stifled blow.

Some people seem to not make a sound when sneezing which I can’t pull off. It freaks me out. I feel like my eardrums are going to break if I don’t make a sound.

I don’t know when my next set of sneezes will attack. It can be in a few minutes or so. The way my nose is congested right now and is at the same time runny, a crazy streak of sneezes is certainly lurking just around the corner.

I better think of something new to say when I start bursting again. It will, at the very least, make being sick a bit entertaining.

By the way, I saw the episode of Myth Busters on sneezing. And they busted the myth which says your eyeballs will pop-out if you sneeze with your eyes open. They induced several sneezes from Adam. And they went to great lengths to keep his eyes open while he let out a powerful blow. His eyes never came off. They almost peed in their pants laughing at how funny he looked. I guess, some people are crazier than I am, huh?