The Drama King, I Am
Not long ago, my best friend, the Guru of Adidas and Badminton (GAB), and I were having a discussion about the worst criticism we have ever received from anyone. GAB, being the eternal optimist at that time, couldn’t think of any. That made a lot of sense since any person who is able to tolerate my antics and whims, and in the process spends a great deal of time hanging out with me, probably does not have an evil bone in his skeletal system.
On my part, I did an awful lot of thinking, and presto! I was able to extract the worst insult ever hurled in my face from the most obscure recesses of my cerebrum. (Of course, we tend to have selective amnesia whenever these kind of things are raised.) The funny thing is, I realized that I’ve gotten this non-compliment on a number of occasions already. I’m sure you guys are itching to know what it is, and heck, I’m ready to share it with all of you. And it is (drum roll and nail biting sound effects in the background)…
"You’re such a baby!"
Yeah, it’s such a bummer whenever I hear this. But in fairness to those who point this out, I do whine frequently about the most mundane of things. I grizzle whenever the person infront of me in the cafeteria queue is taking too long to choose his viand. I snivel about being in my mid-twenties and not being given the opportunities that I think I truly deserve. I whimper on the slightest ailment, whether it is the common cold or the eye allergy that I developed recently. I yammer about not having another warm human being intimately by my side, to love and comfort me on demand. In fact, I would yawp about anything and everything — as long as I feel like it.
Apart from being the most cynical person she has ever encountered in her whole life, the Queen of Pain and Tardiness (QPT), my self-proclaimed techie officemate slash favorite meal companion, thinks that I’m also the whiniest baby in the Milky Way. Of course, I never agree with anything she says, and I even claim that she is as fretful, if not more fretful, than I am. To setlle the score, we decided to take an online quiz to decide who has the higher "Drama Royalty Quotient" between the two of us.
A few clicks of the mouse later, QPT and I were recipients of the same dialouge box below:
| You Are a Drama Queen (or King) |
| (You are more dramatic than 70% of the population.)
And the oscar goes to… you! And while you’re friends may find you entertaining at times… |
It turns out that QPT and I are more dramatic than seven out of ten people on Earth. With this in mind, I am tempted to think that both of us chose the wrong career paths. Instead of wasting our years trying to tinker with experiments in Geology and Applied Physics, we should have honed our skills in Repertory Philippines. Of course, QPT, being the whiny bratwurst that she is (*peace!* :p), argues that since she’s female, she’s entitled to be "more dramatic" than I am. Using her skewed logic, she further asserted that my Drama King Quotient of 70 is actually higher than her Drama Queen Quotient of the same score. I would counter with questions like "Whatever happend to the Women’s Liberation?" and "Where the heck is Gabriela when you need them?"
As expected, QPT waves her hand in a huff, raises her chin, contorts her face as if she gulped a liter of cane vinegar, and murmurs in a hapless yet arrogant tone that would shame even Meryl Streep and Nora Aunor: "Go away! I’m working so hard on my daunting tasks…" It’s an instant classic that’s sure to earn her a Gawad Yarian, err, I mean a Gawad Urian in the near future.
************************************************************************************************
Do you want to know how you fare with the rest of the world in terms of your Drama Royalty Quotient? Then visit this link: http://www.blogthings.com/dramaqueenquiz/ and find out if you’re worthy of an acting trophy.
