After the Love Has Gone

Dear Wife:

I'm writing you this letter to tell you that I'm leaving you forever. I've been a good man to you for seven years and I have nothing to show for it.

These past two weeks have been hell. Your boss called to tell me that you quit your job today and that was the last straw.

Last week, you came home and didn't even notice that I had a new haircut, had cooked your favorite meal and even wore a brand new pair of silk boxers. You ate in two minutes, and went straight to sleep after watching all your soaps. You don't tell me you love me anymore; you don't want sex or anything that connects us as husband and wife.

Either you're cheating on me or you don't love me anymore; whatever the case, I'm gone.

Your EX-Husband

P.S. Don't try to find me. Your SISTER and I are moving away to West Virginia together! Have a great life!

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Dear Ex-Husband:

Nothing has made my day more than receiving your letter. It's true that you and I have been married for seven years, although a good man is a far cry from what you've been.

I watch my soaps so much because they drown out your constant whining and griping. Too bad that doesn't work.

I DID notice when you got a hair cut last week, but the first thing that came to my mind was 'You look just like a girl!' Since my mother raised me not to say anything if you can't say something nice, I didn't comment.

And when you cooked my favorite meal, you must have gotten me confused with MY SISTER, because I stopped eating pork seven years ago!

About those new silk boxers: I turned away from you because the $49.99 price tag was still on them, and I prayed that it was a coincidence that MY SISTER had just borrowed fifty dollars from me that morning.

After all of this, I still loved you and felt that we could work it out. So when I hit the lotto for ten million dollars, I quit my job and bought us two tickets to Jamaica. But when I got home you were gone. Everything happens for a reason, I guess.

I hope you have the fulfilling life you always wanted. My lawyer said that the letter you wrote ensures you won't get a dime from me. So take care.

Signed,

Your Ex-Wife, Rich As Hell and Free!

P.S. I don't know if I ever told you this, but my sister Carla was born Carl. I hope that's not a problem.

Pain and Beauty

This morning, my mom lectured me about all the shoes I've splurged on but never wear. So to sort of please her a bit, I wore a pair from my "collection" of three - inch stilettos to work. Needless to say, it was hell to walk on those pseudo deadly weapons but I must admit, my legs looked longer and leaner and my feet looked sexier in them. I can't help but ask myself, why do I need to suffer just to look good? Can't I just wear sensible shoes (read: fugly!)? I guess pain and beauty will always be related. If you don't buy the premise, just think about your weekly facials and those Brazilian bikini waxes you need to get just to look flawless, and all those unforgiving diets and exercises you have to subject yourself to just to stay slim, and I haven't even touched on cosmetic surgery yet. Pain is a reoccurring theme in the study of aesthetics. Think about Chinese foot binding and those African women with ringed necks. Is beauty worth all that suffering? Beauty is power in many senses, and so, naturally, humans suffer through a lot of pain and torture, perhaps at seemingly superficial levels, to attain it. But for a quality that can potentially put the world at your fingertips, how far is too far? Nowadays the issue is no longer about your regular hair consultations or spa treatments, we are talking about the big leagues here -- cosmetic surgery. In the name of beauty, people are willingly subjecting themselves to extreme amounts of physical pain - and for what real purpose? To have breasts that vaguely resemble that of famous female showbiz personalities who themselves admit that their bodies are not perfect? I am no stranger to the beauty game. Cosmetics and other beauty products provide me with thrilling addiction, but to go as far as to look like someone I'm not, I guess that will be too much for me. But I cannot blame the people, most of whom are women, who suffer for beauty, after all, we live in a world that sets such a high standard for beauty. I guess to end the suffering, we should just all try to be happy in our own skin. Easier said than done, I know.

Dry Spell

No I'm not talking about my sex life but the alarming absence of rain here in the Philippines. This time last year we already had six typhoons but this year we only had one or two, I'm not really sure. It's already August and the heat is still that of summer. And the rains we've been getting lately? Those were just the result of cloud seeding. They just do something to the clouds to induce rain otherwise, there'll be none. Global warming has never been more real. The persistent dry spell has shut down the 345-megawatt San Roque Dam power plant in Pangasinan, considered one of the biggest in Asia, after water levels reached critical condition. I hate to sound so "doomsday" but if this is happening now, just imagine what it will be like in the future. We have to do something now, if not for our sake then maybe for our kids. Since we can't move to another planet (yet), what we can do is to seriously put into action those energy/environmental conservation measures that we've been putting off. And seriously pray for rain...

Too Busy Living

I have nothing to say (yeah right). I just don't have the will to write anything worthwhile right now. Not that it's a bad thing and not that it ever stopped me before. It's actually kinda nice to be living life instead of writing about it. It's nice not to be addicted to the internet for a change. It's nice to be surrounded by my loved ones -- living, breathing people and actually talking with them face to face and not just through characters in a computer screen. It's nice to see and feel everything that's real. And it's nice to really laugh instead of just typing this :D

I have nothing further.

Pieces of Heaven

Before I begin my new post, I just would like to thank some of the great minds of Blogspot who have visited this blog site and who left some really encouraging comments. Word up!

My post for today is about great friends. A lot has been written about this topic — songs, stories, books, movies, and there was even a long - running, top - rated sitcom about ‘friends’ (who, along the course of their friendships, find themselves sleeping with each other. Oh! But that’s another story). I have lotsa’ casual friends and a handful of really close ones but I believe that I’ve got some of the best and for this I feel really blessed. I honestly believe that one of the most enduring relationships of all is friendship. Most of us have become so busy with the pursuit of romantic relationships that we tend to undermine the value of good friendship. As is true in my case, boyfriends come and go but my friends remain.

What are they for anyway, these friends of ours? Are they just people to hang out with when we have nothing better to do? Are they just people we borrow money from when we’re broke? Are they just sounding boards for yet another heartbreak rant? Are they just stand-in dates when we can’t find a real one on Valentine’s Day? Are they just drinking buddies to spend our Friday nights with? Are they just ‘Fubus’? Yes they are all these and more. For me, good friends represent everything that is good, pure, sincere, loyal, honest, fun, and lasting. They are my little pieces of heaven here on earth.

This Ad is So Funny, My P***Y is Laughing

Haven't tried tampons yet, but after watching this ad, I just might...

Zombie

I haven't been sleeping enough for the last few days (or weeks even) for various reasons. I've been given a lot of "unmerciful" deadlines and I've been sleeping late on my own accord co'z late nights are kinda my "me time". Those are the only times I can do stuff for myself like read or watch TV or surf the net (excessively, that is). And my sleep starved mind has been operating on "auto pilot" ever since, which is not good. Today, my body sort of refused to take any more abuse from me. It slept until 10 a.m. instead of waking up at 6:00 a.m. without any regard for the alarm clock. Ok so I overslept. I don't oversleep! I don't! This is weird! (Cue the "Twilight Zone" theme, tini-ni-niin, tini-ni-niin, tini-ni-niin...) This can't be happening, I have a schedule to follow and straying away from "the schedule" will cause a glitch in the time - space continuum and will affect the balance in the universe and will cause this big implosion of about 300,000 kilometers below sea level... Ok, ok, so I'm exaggerating. I woke up and saw that it was already 10:00 a.m. Needless to say, I'm soooo late for work. So I shot out of bed and headed straight for the shower and on my mad dash to the shower, I tripped onto something and I almost fell. Damn! (Newsflash: taking a shower while still half asleep is not a good idea). Plus I got some shampoo in my eye while showering which really stings. I just have this feeling that this is not gonna be a good day.

Stand Back! I May Have to Up My Hotness to Level 10

I have to write the mayor's Inaugural Speech and the deadline for the submission of the first draft is 5:00 p.m. tomorrow. The assignment was given to me this morning. JUST GREAT! This means another sleepless night for me. I have to arm myself so I went to a convenience store to get some supplies. You know, the usual "burning the midnight oil" staples -- Red Bulls, endless supply of java, chocolates, nuts, anything that would keep me awake. And then HE came. Alighting from a car was this yummy specimen of a guy -- chiseled features, cute eyes, around 5'11", lean, nice tan, broad shoulders, great smile (he smiled at the cashier), even greater looking legs (I can see through jeans, it's a special power of mine that I developed during college. lol). Needless to say, I had to summon just the right amount of control to keep my jaw from dropping to the floor. You see, I love the sight of a great - looking guy the same way guys love the sight of a sexy girl in a miniskirt, and I'm not ashamed to admit it. I'm a Libran after all so I'm a lover of beauty. Yeah ok so I'm rationalizing. Anyways, all thoughts about the mayor's speech flew out of the window (the store had no window, so ok maybe through the door, whatever!) and I focused all my concentration on a single thing -- how to strike up a conversation with the superfly guy. As of that moment, I was a woman with a mission and I had to come up with a plan fast. Let's see, hmmm, he has the built of a guy who goes to the gym regularly so maybe that'll be a good topic. And he has a nice tan so maybe he likes the outdoors. But wait! He just dropped a gazillion bags of chips in his shopping basket so maybe he's not much of a health buff after all. Ok so maybe he's a couch potato or he loves watching movies, that'll be a good opening as well. Hold it! He just snatched a copy of Asiaweek from the magazine rack, so maybe he's a well - informed guy who reads and that brings his hotness rating to a critical level (read: super high) based on my "hunk thermometer". I have to plan this veeerrryyy carefully. What to say? What to say? Where's my creativity when I need it the most? What is the best approach? Should I take the "smart girl" route? Nah! It might intimidate him. Or will it be the "a bit goofy, clumsy and helpless" route? Or is it the "hottie route"? Yes! That's it. So stand back people! I may have to up my hotness to Level 10. Kaboom! And I did. But then, the guy was already gone.

NOTE TO SELF: Jovi, next time, don't think too much. Just get the guy!

Needless to say, I went home without the guy's number and with a speech to write. Drat!

A Pro Con

A couple of months back just before the May 14 national and local elections in the Philippines, a girl of about 16 - 18 years old, who claimed to be a resident of our city (Tarlac City), came to our office to ask for financial assistance from our City Mayor (my boss) to help her get text votes so she can win a popular singing contest that she was joining at the time. The contest was one of those "American Idol" rip offs being aired by one of the major networks here in the Philippines which I'd rather not name for purposes of anonymity (GMA Channel 7's Pinoy Pop Superstar. Ha! Sorry, couldn't help it). Anyway, seeing nothing unusual about that as it is quite typical here in the Philippines to directly ask politicians for money for whatever reason, I made her write a formal letter to the mayor. She did and she submitted the letter to us. The Mayor wasn't able to give her the money right away since there was an election ban going and electoral candidates were prohibited from handing out money to the people. The kid came back several times pleading that she be given the financial assistance that she needed but we kept explaining to her that she'll have to wait until after the elections. Right after the polls, she came back with the news that she had already won the contest. None of us in the office watched the show so we haven't the faintest idea if she really won. Lucky for her, the mayor (who also didn't watch the show) was at the office that time she visited so I told her to talk to the mayor directly and to tell him the "good news". She did. She introduced herself to the mayor saying that she was Maricris Garcia and that she was the grand champion of Pinoy Pop Superstar, etc. etc. And the mayor, quite glad that someone from his city won such a popular contest, congratulated her and handed her P5,000.00 from his own pocket. So that was the end of it. Or so we thought. Then yesterday, the kid came back to our office inviting the mayor to some event and was kinda sweet talking him about a certain project (probably so he'll give her more "assistance", I'm not sure). When it comes to the mayor's schedules and appointments, it was customary for us to validate if the event he was being invited to is really gonna take place and if so, we need to get the details. So we did. It turned out that there was no such event and people from GMA 7 as well as Maricris' handlers were quite surprised when we told them that she was here in Tarlac City because as far as they know, she was supposed to be in Bulacan at that time. And she was indeed in Bulacan. The real Maricris Garcia, that is. The one the mayor was talking to turned out to be a con who resembles the real one quite closely. A sixteen - year - old professional con artist, who, prior to our mayor, had also "victimized" three or four other mayors. So the police was called in, an investigation was made, and the girl, being a minor, was held in some juvenile facility.

Actually, the situation I cited above isn't out of the ordinary. We encounter cons everyday. What really bugs me is how a sixteen-year-old girl can lie through her teeth without even flinching, and worse, lie straight to the mayors face. Me, I can't pull off something like that. I'd be blinking all over the place and wouldn't even be able to look anyone straight in the eye. Yeah I guess I'm a bad liar and I'd make a bad con. Anyways, it really "amazes" me what kids are capable of doing these days. They can get hold of high powered guns and shoot their classmates just for kicks, they can get hold of heroine and coke and do one or the other anytime they please (read: Lindsay Lohan), and they can come up with elaborate and risky con jobs like this one. Maybe we should watch our kids more closely co'z this is no longer just a case of playing pretend.

Comings and Goings

I am a person who hates to throw things away. I can't seem to part with stuff, even things that are all worn out and useless. And this is currently driving my mom crazy as we are on the verge of losing precious storage space in our house. For me, there is comfort in knowing that these things are just here within my reach in case I need them (which is highly unlikely). I'm the same way with people. I hate losing them and it is very difficult for me to let go. Don't get me wrong, I don't force people to stay if they don't want to and I can accept the circumstances that has led me to lose someone. It's just that the healing takes too long for me. Maybe longer than what can be considered normal. On the outside, it appears that I've already moved on but inside, the emptiness remains. A friend of mine once told me, "Jovi, you'll have to get used to it, people come and go", and he knew what he was talking about for he himself had lost his parents and brother to an accident.

But then I've come to realize that the emptiness will remain forever because when a loved one leaves, the vacant space he/she has left in my heart can never be filled again. Yes my heart will keep on beating and it'll make room for others to come in but the vacant spaces will remain. I admire people who can let go so easily. I wish they'd tell me how.

Lost in Translation

Have you noticed how everything seems to be made in China these days? A close second are those made in Japan. And have you noticed the product info / instructions that are written on the labels that were haphazardly translated in English? My brothers and I get a kick out of reading these Chinese or Japanese product labels. I don't mean to make fun of them, but they are funny and they always make my day. And here's all the more reason why we should purchase their products. Here are some of them:

From a Chinese Herbal Diet Tea:
Nguan Heng Chan Special Herbing Tea
Suitable for all ages to reduce weight with efficiency and safe.
Suitable for all diet person who can't reduce weight by any method, have no any exercises and can't control eating.
This tea is really best for the person with fatty belly there is no laxative affect.

From a Japanese breakfast pastry package:
Through years of experience, Doutor Danish is produced from the finest materials to create a happy time on tables.

On a pack of Japanese rice tea cakes:
Burning politely, one by one,these cakes send deliciousness to you.

On a Japanese bread wrapper:
Take me home, let’s make happy in your basket!

On a bottle of Chinese medicine:
Known to cure itching, colds, stomachs, brains, and other diseases.

On the box of a toothbrush from a Tokyo hotel:
Gives you strong mouth and refreshing wind!

On a package of a Chinese dry tea biscuits:
A drink’s too wet without one.

And here's a fave of mine courtesy of Mr. Jim Paredes. It's from the label of a Chinese pantyliner brand called Anion:

Functions:
1. Inside the cunt, anion can promote the exchange of biological enzyme
2. In sanitary napkin, the anion chip can instantly absorb blood

Apparently, the Chinese-to-English translator must have learned his English lessons by watching porno.

Here's more:
...it comes with "lady vagina inflammation self-test paper". Whut???

And here's a photo of a brand of bottled water from Japan:

Diet Water?! I didn't know water was fattening! Now, that's one more thing to worry about...

Anyway, whenever you go grocery shopping, make it a habit to read the product labels first, just for laughs.

Purchasing Power

Prices are so high these days that it is a wonder we can still afford anything. Take gasoline prices for instance.

Sense and Sensibility

No, this is not about the Jane Austen classic novel. This is about my own failings. My occassional lack of proper SENSE and SENSIBILITY. In short, I can be insensitive, sometimes deliberately so and I know that being "deliberately" insensitive is already being MEAN. This insensitivity is borne out of an innate selfishness and sometimes deliberate disregard for other people's feelings and situations. I have hurt a number of people by my insensitivity, even some who are close and important to me. This is not an attempt to justify my failings. I don't think those can be justified. This is just my own form of apology to the many people I have hurt or angered through my insensitivity. Some might forgive me, others might not. I don't really ask to be forgiven for that is something you cannot simply ask for. Forgiveness is entirely up to the offended party. I wrote this apology to let these people know that I feel bad that I have offended, angered and/or hurt them. That I feel a certain sense of loss. That I know I cannot take back the things that I've said but I take full responsibility for them. That I accept and understand their anger. That if alienation from them is the price I have to pay for what I have done, then I humbly, albeit sadly, accept it. I don't ask to be forgiven. All I can do is hope.

Photo Magic (The World in the Eyes of Kuya Rey)

Meet my cousin, Reynaldo Reyes, magician (he's a good one. I think he even went to "magic" school), shutterbug, one of my dad's fave nephews (they're barkadas and frat brods I think), and a super duper nice guy. He emailed me some of the photos he had taken during his travels and I was so blown away by them that I just had to share them with you guys. I can't post the photos in all their full sized glory so I'll just show you the thumbnails. If you wish to view them full sized, you may check out this site (believe me, they're worth the visit):

http://www.betterphoto.com/gallery/gallery.asp?mem=191263

Below are some of my faves among Kuya Rey's work but I think the best person to introduce these magnificent photos is my cousin himself. So here goes...

Two of the greatest fascinations in my life have been magic and photography. Magic portrays reality in a way that makes the viewer wonder whether it was real in the first place. Photography on the other hand, allows one to show what has been captured by the camera as faithful as possible to reality. The images you see on these pages are the results of the many visits to different places in the USA and Canada. If the images can give you a sense of being there… that would be magical indeed. What a blessing! Enjoy! - Reynaldo Reyes

English Spokening

My cousin, Kuya Rudi, briefly mentioned in his column in one of our local newspapers something about reading a sign written on the wall of one the elementary schools here in Tarlac City. The sign actually says, "This is an English Speaking School". Okaaayyy.... So? Is that reflective of the quality of education in that school, or in our country's public schools for that matter? Is the use of the English language as a medium of instruction in our schools an indication that our educational system is working and is going in the right direction? Well, maybe we should ask the President who, on May 2003, issued an Executive Order “Establishing the Policy to Strengthen English as a Second Language in the Educational System”. The salient points of the EO are the following:

* English should be taught as a second language at all levels of the educational system, starting with the First Grade;
* English should be used as the medium of instruction for English, Math and Science from at least the third Grade level;
* The English language shall be used as a primary medium of instruction in all public institutions of learning at the secondary level.”

Okay, so learning to speak English well is a big deal in our society that even our leaders are promoting its use while our own Tagalog/Filipino is only given that much importance during the observance of the "Linggo ng Wika". I think it's the "Buwan ng Wika" now. They've added three more weeks just to show that we are not entirely disregarding our own National Language. We may be ashamed to admit it but to most of us Filipinos, being able to speak (and write) good English is a gauge of one's educational background and position in the social stratum. One who speaks English well is "sosi". I myself am a product of our country's preference of the usage of the English language as against the use of Tagalog/Filipino. I was sent to schools that charged a student P1.00 for every word spoken in Tagalog or in any local dialect. During recitations, we were encouraged (but I think forced was more like it) to speak in straight English. Except during Filipino class, of course and that was the only time we were allowed to speak in Tagalog while in school. College was a different matter as I went to a university that encourages one to express himself in whatever language and manner he pleases but still, during that time, I find myself speaking more English in class. I didn't even have a Filipino subject in college. In school, I wasn't taught to love my own language. I wasn't encouraged to use my own language. As a result, I can express myself better in English. I even "think" in English. Not that I'm complaining, I've made good use of my knowledge of the English language and I've found it useful on numerous occasions. It opened a lot of doors for me. But I just wish I was taught to love my own language more, to take pride in its use and to use it more often.

How Sharp is Your GAYDAR?

David France (who happens to be gay) recently wrote an article for the New York Magazine entitled, "The Science of Gaydar", which is mainly about studies conducted which show that there are physical manifestations of homosexuality that let us identify who's gay and who's not. By this, I don't mean the lingo, the way they walk, and the way they dress, nor is it that "test" that we use to subject our male classmates to when we were in grade school to determine whether they have homosexual tendencies (tignan mo nga yung siko mo...).

Anyway, here are some of the characteristics that France talked about in his article. Guys, you may want to check yourselves out. Who knows, you might be gay without you knowing it. Wink! Wink!

Gay men are are more likely to have counterclockwise hair whorl patterns (puyo)










Gay men's fingerprint ridges have an increased density in the thumb and pinkie of the left hand (i.e. narrow ridges)











Gay men are more likely to have ring fingers that are shorter than their index fingers











So guys, have you checked yourselves out? And?????

Gifted

Every parent thinks his kid is gifted. My parents thought I was when I learned to talk and read earlier than what was considered normal. They watch my every move and paid attention to every word I say just so they can have another glimpse of how "gifted" I was. Needless to say, they eventually gave up and accepted the fact that I was an average kid. Maybe brighter than some kids, but still average.

Now here's a real gifted kid. Guitar riffing Funtwo of Seoul, South Korea has become some sort of a teen sensation when he was featured at CNN. Me, I just like the way he "rocked" Pachelbel's masterpiece, Canon. Yeah there were a few missed notes here and there but the kid rocked just the same:

More than Meets the Eye

I bet Hasbro sales are on record high the day Transformers hit the big screen. That's in addition to the increase in demand for vintage Camaros with racing stripes. The movie was great fun with just the right amount of sap and comedy on the side, and of course, with great action sequences. The movie looks mighty good with real - looking CGIs and yeah, with the requisite actors that are easy on the eyes. The robots' movements were realistic and fluid (not that I've ever seen real robots in my life so I'm not so sure how to define "realistic" here). Michael Bay and Steven Spielberg have done a good job with this movie. It sure did justice to the 80's classic cartoon that I so loved. Most of my fave robot characters were on the movie, which really pleased me.

Yeah, the Transformers is a movie about robots but it has more to it than meets the eye. It is also about the courage and strength of humans despite the fact that we're young, physically fragile beings compared to the locals of the planet Cybertron. It's just too bad for Sam Witwicky (Shia LeBeouf) who won't be able to "totally" make out with his girl inside his car. It is alive, you know. Almost humanlike.

P.S.
They should have given Soundwave the all-important role of the robot hacker instead of the insect-like boombox, Frenzy. Well anyhow, I heard Soundwave's gonna be in the sequel.

I Love Boy Bands

I love boy bands. Menudo, New Kids on the Block, Nsync, I love them all. But my friend Lucyl loves them more. So for you Lucyl, I dedicate this fitting tribute to one of our favorite boy bands, the Backstreet Boys:

*Notice the guy at the back? The one on the computer. He doesn't seem to notice that something's goin on behind his back...

A World Without Men

I was surfing through the net earlier when I chanced upon this article and it got me thinking (everything gets you thinking, Jovi!).... Here's a portion of that article:

Will science render men unnecessary?

By Brian Alexander

MSNBC contributor

Recently a team of scientists announced they had made artificial sperm from human bone marrow, and media reports abounded with the dire news that my goodfellas (and by extension, me) had been rendered unnecessary.

If a woman chose to do so, speculated tabloid journalists, she could make sperm from her own bone marrow, fertilize another woman’s egg — and voila!

Hmmm. Interesting. Add that to another study that says that because of a genetic defect in the male chromosome, men could disappear off the face of the earth within the next 125,000 years, and we can assume that men might very well be facing extinction. That wouldn't be a problem since by that time, women can already procreate by themselves. Yeah I know, we wouldn't be alive then but let's have this for purposes of discussion. Ladies, can we live in a world without men?

I can think of a million advantages of a world without men. Here are just some of them:

1. We wouldn't have to worry about the toilet seat being left up

2. There'd be no pressure to marry or to get nasty bikini waxes

3. No gender descrimination

4. No unecessary women's movement

5. Less spam in our emails since there'd be none of those Viagra ads

6. No need for birth control

7. None of those tambays in the street corner who keeps on leering at you and saying, "Miss, miss! Pwede makipagkilala?"

8. No sensitive, metrosexual type guy in the club who, as the evening wears out and your conversation moves along, turns out to be gay (to your utter disappointment) just when you are expecting some bedroom action

9. No male/female MRT cars

10. Everybody listens to you

Yeah, life would seem better without men but would we want that? Without men, who would cuddle with us and kiss us and hold us in a way that makes us feel safe? Who would amuse us and pamper us and spoil us rotten? Who would tell us we look good (even when we don't)? The truth is, everything needs an opposite in order for us to achieve that perfect balance in life. We need men. We need their strength, their love, and in the best cases, their protection. Ah... And there's the SEX... Let's just leave it at that.

Hell Hath No Fury Like A Woman With PMS

I get bad PMS everytime. No. I'm not using it as an excuse for bad behavior, it's just that I do get it bad. As if bloating, headaches, cramps and food cravings aren't enough during this time of the month, I also have to deal with the fact that during this period, I'm crazier and more homicidal than usual. A single wrong word can make me either weepy or ballistic. When I happen to have PMS during a no - work day, I spend the entire day in my bathrobe watching TV, weeping over shampoo ads while drowning my sorrows in a pint of chocolate ice cream (Yes folks, "Death by Chocolate" is indeed possible).

The Hormone Hostage knows that there are days in the month when all a man has to do is open his mouth and he takes his life in his own hands! This is a handy guide that should be as common as a driver's license in the wallet of every husband, boyfriend, or significant other!

DANGEROUS:	SAFER:	SAFEST:	ULTRA SAFE:
What's for dinner?	Can I help you with dinner?	Where would you like to go for dinner?	Here, have some chocolate.
Are you wearing that?	Wow, you sure look good in brown!	WOW! Look at you!	Here, have some chocolate
What are you so worked up about?	Could we be overreacting?	Here's my paycheck.	Here, have some chocolate.
Should you be eating that?	You know, there are a lot of apples left.	Can I get you a glass of wine with that?	Here, have some chocolate.
What did you DO all day?	I hope you didn't over-do it today.	I've always loved you in that robe!	Here, have some more chocolate.

13 Things PMS Stands For:

1. Pass My Shotgun

2. Psychotic Mood Shift

3. Perpetual Munching Spree

4 Puffy Mid-Section

5. People Make me Sick

6. Provide Me with Sweets

7. Pardon My Sobbing

8. Pimples May Surface

9. Pass My Sweat pants

10. Pissy Mood Syndrome

11. Plainly; Men Suck

12. Pack My Stuff

13. Potential Murder Suspect

Everybody's Free To Wear Sunscreen

Chicago Tribune Columnist Mary Schmich wrote a column in 1997 imagining what she would say if she was giving a high school graduation speech. The speech wound up on the internet, attributed to author Kurt Vonnegut. The writing became a song by Australian film director Baz Luhrman. Schmich thinks that the popularity of her "graduation speech" indicates that the Millennium Generation is hungry for advice. This speech, simple as it may seem, has served me well, especially during those times when I need to re-group and re-assess how I am living my life...

Everybody's Free (to wear sunscreen...)

If I could offer you only one tip for the future, sunscreen would be it. The long-term benefits of sunscreen have been proven by scientists, whereas the rest of my advice has no basis more reliable than my own meandering experience. I will dispense this advice now.

Enjoy the power and beauty of your youth. Oh, never mind. You will not understand the power and beauty of your youth until they've faded. But trust me, in 20 years, you'll look back at photos of yourself and recall in a way you can't grasp now how much possibility lay before you and how fabulous you really looked. You are not as fat as you imagine.

Don't worry about the future. Or worry, but know that worrying is as effective as trying to solve an algebra equation by chewing bubble gum. The real troubles in your life are apt to be things that never crossed your worried mind, the kind that blindside you at 4 p.m. on some idle Tuesday.

Do one thing every day that scares you.

Sing.

Don't be reckless with other people's hearts. Don't put up with people who are reckless with yours.

Floss.

Don't waste your time on jealousy. Sometimes you're ahead, sometimes you're behind. The race is long and, in the end, it's only with yourself.

Remember compliments you receive. Forget the insults. If you succeed in doing this, tell me how.

Keep your old love letters. Throw away your old bank statements.

Stretch.

Don't feel guilty if you don't know what you want to do with your life. The most interesting people I know didn't know at 22 what they wanted to do with their lives. Some of the most interesting 40-year-olds I know still don't.

Get plenty of calcium. Be kind to your knees. You'll miss them when they're gone.

Maybe you'll marry, maybe you won't. Maybe you'll have children, maybe you won't. Maybe you'll divorce at 40, maybe you'll dance the funky chicken on your 75th wedding anniversary. Whatever you do, don't congratulate yourself too much, or berate yourself either. Your choices are half chance. So are everybody else's.

Enjoy your body. Use it every way you can. Don't be afraid of it or of what other people think of it. It's the greatest instrument you'll ever own.

Dance, even if you have nowhere to do it but your living room.

Read the directions, even if you don't follow them.

Do not read beauty magazines. They will only make you feel ugly.

Get to know your parents. You never know when they'll be gone for good. Be nice to your siblings. They're your best link to your past and the people most likely to stick with you in the future.

Understand that friends come and go, but with a precious few you should hold on. Work hard to bridge the gaps in geography and lifestyle, because the older you get, the more you need the people who knew you when you were young.

Live in New York City once, but leave before it makes you hard. Live in Northern California once, but leave before it makes you soft. Travel.

Accept certain inalienable truths: Prices will rise. Politicians will philander. You, too, will get old. And when you do, you'll fantasize that when you were young, prices were reasonable, politicians were noble and children respected their elders.

Respect your elders.

Don't expect anyone else to support you. Maybe you have a trust fund. Maybe you'll have a wealthy spouse. But you never know when either one might run out.

Don't mess too much with your hair or by the time you're 40 it will look 85.

Be careful whose advice you buy, but be patient with those who supply it. Advice is a form of nostalgia. Dispensing it is a way of fishing the past from the disposal, wiping it off, painting over the ugly parts and recycling it for more than it's worth.

But trust me on the sunscreen...

by Mary Schmich

And You Ask Me Why I Don't Have Kids

Don't get me wrong, I don't hate kids. In fact, I would like to have a couple of those someday... But I liked this ad just the same...

Like I'M Stoned (Musings in the Shower)

Audioslave - Like a Stone via Noolmusic.com

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Get Video Code For YouTube Music Videos Rock Pop - Audioslave - Like a Stone

I sing in the shower. It's one of the numerous annoying things that I do. And this morning it's "Like a Stone" by Audioslave. It's not that I like the song, it was just a bad case of "Last Song Syndrome". It was the last song I heard before entering the shower so I'm bound to sing it there. Anyway, while singing, I became fascinated by the song's lyrics, which goes like this (please excuse any mistake in the lyrics, I don't have the song memorized):

On a cobweb afternoon
In a room full of emptiness
By a freeway I confess
I was lost in the pages
Of a book full of death
Reading how we'll die alone
And if we're good we'll lay to rest
Anywhere we want to go

In your house I long to be
Room by room patiently
I'll wait for you there
Like a stone
I'll wait for you there
Alone

And on my deathbed I will pray
To the gods and the angels
Like a pagan to anyone
Who will take me to heaven
To a place I recall
I was there so long ago
The sky was bruised
The wine was bled
And there you led me on

In your house I long to be
Room by room patiently
I'll wait for you there
Like a stone
I'll wait for you there
Alone, alone

And on I read
Until the day was gone
And I sat in regret
Of all the things that I've done
For all that I've blessed
And all that I've wronged
In dreams until my death
I will wander on

In your house I long to be
Room by room patiently
I'll wait for you there
Like a stone
I'll wait for you there
Alone, alone

Chris Cornell's words probably don't mean shit, I really don't know, but the song reminded me of my dad's last few weeks alive while he was (probably) waiting for the inevitable... For me, the song evokes visions of waiting for death (not necessarily bad) and our own personal heaven. The song implies that heaven is what we make it and that there are various ways to find it (contrary to the traditional monotheistic way of thinking). Halfway through my musings, I suddenly stopped myself. For someone who is supposed to be showering, I'm thinking TOO much. It's not healthy.

Chris Benoit (1967 - 2007)

I enjoy watching WWE. I enjoy the fakeness and the fact that it is entertainment and everything about it is contrived and scripted. It's like watching my favorite local teleserye. Add those to the fact that I enjoy a bit of TV violence every now and then and you have the perfect formula for a big WWE fan. I am not the biggest fan though, but still, I love watching it. All those pre - conceived drama, all those badly delivered lines and dialogues, all those choreographed moves, I love them all. But recently, something happened to one of WWE's more popular wrestlers that has dwarfed and eclipsed all those drama. It is so shocking that not even Vince Macmahon's wildest imaginings can conceive such a tragedy.

Y'all probably know what happened, Chris Benoit was found hanging from his gym ceiling in his Atlanta home. And as if that wasn't enough, his wife and seven -year - old son were also found dead, allegedly murdered by Benoit himself before taking his own life. It's all over the internet, all over the news and even on the local papers. A lot of people have discussed the tragedy at length and experts have rendered their opinions on the matter and I don't wanna add to that co'z I have no idea what really transpired on that fateful weekend. I am not a Benoit fan (although I named one of my cats after him), so this is not a tribute either.

This blogpost of mine is more of a series of questions. What would drive a man to kill his own wife and son and then himself? Is it the steroids? Is it all those prescription drugs? What made him snap? I probably will never know. All I know is that this is one of those senseless waste of lives that we see everyday. It has become so common that most of us have become desensitized to it. This sort of ugliness doesn't bother us anymore. Suicide, and murder for that matter, have become so fashionable especially if committed by celebrities and well - known personalities.

Just what was he thinking? Was he sad? Was he hating the life that he has? A life that a lot of us would kill to have? Did he feel empty? Maybe he did. Now a song is playing in my mind. Remember "All Apologies" by Nirvana? Maybe what he was feeling can be summed up in the song's line which was aptly sung by Kurt Cobain who also took his own life, "All in all is all we are...."

Hungree Anyone?

I eat a lot. I have the appetite of a construction worker after a hard day's work. Anyone who wants to get on my good side uses food as bribe. I just don't know where all that food goes as I am a mere 112lbs. Anyway, a couple of nights ago, my cousin brought home one those humongous Super Duper Burgers from Hungree Burgers in Parañaque. As the name implies, you have to be really famished before you eat this burger as it is 8 inches in diameter (about the size of a regular pizza pan). I finished a third of the entire thing. And finished the remaining portion the next day (not in one sitting). I'm not really a food critic so I'll just say it was good. The Super Duper Burger costs around P200+ so some of you might have to pay someone on Friday for a Hungree Burger today. Eat up!

Brain Freeze

I haven't been blogging regularly lately. I even thought that maybe I couldn't keep up with this blog thing for long. The reason being (aside from the fact that I'm having a bad case of the flatulence) that there are days when words just fail me. There are days when I'm simply feeling blah and nothing seems to fascinate or interest me so I can't come up with anything significant to write about. Although I believe that it's not what you write about but how you write about it. Anyway, I can probably come up with a million reasons why I can't write anything decent at present but maybe I just have to admit that there are days when my brain simply freezes and just refuses to function at its normal capacity. It's a brain freeze of a different kind from that which you get from chugging a giant Slurpee. I have it now and I have it bad. I hope I can thaw it and just get on with my life.

Mama Mary, Tatay Gardo and Wilson Philips (yeah all in one story)

My good friend Lucyl, who is quite a bit of a wordsmith (just like I am. Wink! Wink!) was the first to blog about this topic but she wanted my own take on it on my blog instead of re-posting hers so here goes.

I was rooming with my batchmate Janette and several younger girls during my sophomore year in college (I went to that university symbolized by that naked guy who likes to flash everyone who ever enters the campus. That's a dead giveaway). One of those younger roomies was Lucyl who was a freshman then. We shared the same tiny room with bunk beds (in the typical boardinghouse fashion) in a house near our school. Lucyl was among the first (new) boarders to arrive and her encounter with the landlady was not out of the ordinary except for the bit where the landlady told her her name is Mary and insisted that she be called "Mama Mary". Due probably to her "all - girls Catholic school" upbringing, Lucyl automatically felt like reciting all the mysteries of the Holy Rosary in front of the landlady upon hearing that. But she was able to control herself and just genuflected and crossed herself in secret (old habits die hard).

Anyway, that was nothing compared to the landlord. We call him Tatay Gardo (I forgot his real name). He was in his sixties then and he has a habit of parading in his underpants
(really huge ones with loose waistbands. Oh the horror!) hence the name Gardo taken from Gardo Versoza who was the happening male sex symbol at that time. Like that wasn't enough, whenever we had to use the phone or get something from the fridge, we had to go to Mama Mary's and Tatay Gardo's room because that was where the phone and the fridge were at. And whenever we go inside, we'd always find Tatay Gardo lying on his bed like a beached whale while watching TV, in his underpants, no less. No wonder I was such a disturbed kid at that time.

If you've lived in a boardinghouse, you know better than to leave your personal belongings lying around co'z anything left alone in plain sight of the other people living there is fair game. Including the owners' belongings. One night, it was the landlord's liquor cabinet (you know how Pinoys are, they just display their liquor in their nice bottles wthout actually consuming them). So we chugged some. While we were at it we saw a plastic bottle of Hershey's Brown Cow on the dining table beckoning to us (I had alcohol in my system then ok?) so we all rushed to it and I was the first at it. Feeling quite smug from my small victory over my roomies and with a stupid smile on my face, I quickly flipped open the plastic top dispenser, placed the bottle over my face, aimed it at my mouth, and waited for all that chocolatey goodness. Then I was gagging. The thing had soy sauce in it instead of chocolate syrup. Almost on the verge of tears, I hauled my soy sauce drenched self to the bathroom and had shower for the second time around that night.

When I was all clean and soy sauce free, we retired to our room and together, my roomies and I sang Wilson Philips hits (that was the 90s, people!) complete with the blending of voices.

That was just one day. Imagine what four years might have been like.

Love According to Scary Duck (That's MR. Scary Duck to You!)

For someone who doesn't run out of things to say (an ex once told me that I talk too much), it is with much difficulty that I am admitting that as of this writing, I am officially suffering from a malignancy called, "Writers' Block". So now I shamelessly resort to what people with nothing to blog about resort to, post somebody else's work. So here's LOVE according to one of my favorite bloggers, Scary Duck (Mind you, he's not scary and he's not a duck):

Love is......

- particularly difficult without genitals...

- kidding yourself that you haven't been caught eyeing up her mother...

- frankly impossible in the office stock cupboard. People always need staples at the most inconvenient of moments...

- a chemical reaction involving the increased release of testosterone and estrogen resulting in an emotional attachment to a person, object, piece of liver in a sock or inflatable woman...

- saving Flossie from the knacker's yard, if only for old time's sake...

- illogical, Captain, more to the left please...

- filming her every move with a number of hidden cameras, following her to the shops and beating to a pulp any man who so much as looks at her, because nobody understands her the way I do...

- ultimately more expensive than picking up slatterns on the Oxford Road, but without the genital herpes roulette...

- asking what her sister looks like naked...

- refusing to press charges, even though you are still walking with a limp...

- writing her adoring letters featuring the words "cum-dripping browneye" and "I've paid a mate to hold the camera"...

- respecting her enough not to draw attention to the piece of toilet paper stuck to her bum-hole whilst doing it doggy style...

Help me out here. In the words of poor, dead Howard Jones: "What is love?"

Confession: One of the above is true.

Labels: Love posted by Scaryduck on Monday, June 11, 2007

Guys and Breaking Up

I rarely watch Sex and the City but I did get to see the episode where Berger dumped Carrie via a Post - It note left at the dresser the morning after they had sex. Miranda, Carrie's friend, was also once dumped through the guy's doorman who simply said to her, "I'm sorry Ms. Hobbes, Jonathan won't be coming down. Ever." I myself also had the misfortune of being dumped by a guy who did it by simply "disappearing". He just stopped calling. Now that was something. He'd probably give Houdini a run for his money when it comes to performing "disappearing acts".

What is it with guys and breaking up? Most of them are just so darn clueless as to how to go about it properly. Are they afraid they'd hurt us with their straightforwardness? Are they afraid that we'd probably scream, shout, cry, pull out our hair, or bang our heads against the wall if they try to break up with us face to face? Well yeah maybe some women might resort to that. I once had a guy friend whose girlfriend threatened him to hold her breath until she passes out when he tried to break up with her face to face. But that's beside the point. Guys, the fact is, every woman, or anyone for that matter, deserves a decent, proper break - up, no matter whose fault it is. If you want out, have the balls to go to her, talk to her, explain your reason/s. Just simply tell her to her face. Why? The answer is quite simple really, those women, regardless of the degree of bitchiness, were once important parts of your lives. Well ok, some might not be that important, but still, they were parts of your lives and not giving them the proper break - up that they deserve is like saying that what you had with them meant nothing at all. It disregards and discounts everything that you've once shared, whether good or bad.

In this regard, I would like to say "Kudos!" to those men who have the guts to break up with their girlfriends properly. It takes a real man to do that. As for the rest, well, they're just a bunch of spineless cowards. Sorry.

Line to Heaven

To the man who has always been there for me through every skinned knee and heartache, to the man who didin't have much but gave me everything and treated me like a princess, to the man who never stopped loving me even when I was bad, to the man who never got tired of picking me up and brushing my tears away whenever I fall down, to my strength, my hero, my teacher, my security blanket, my number one fan, my shoulder to cry on, my knight in shining armour, my one true love, PAPA... Happy fathers' day... I know you're not here with us now, physically but I'm sure you can hear me there in "daddy heaven". Words can never express how much I miss you... I LOVE YOU, PA...There is no one else like you 'cause you're the best...

Love Always,


Obeng

The Wisdom of Sesame Street

I grew up on Sesame Street. It was my babysitter. When I was around four or five and my mom was too busy, she just propped me in front of our black and white, cabinet type TV and made me watch the show. Even the replays in the afternoon. What I need to know as a pre-schooler I learned from Sesame Street and not in kindergarten co'z I was a pre-school drop out and just went straight ahead to grade school after passing an exam and an interview. Probably because I thought I was smarter than the teachers so I dropped out of pre-school altogether. When I was a kid I dreamt of living in Sesame Street and wished everyone around me where cute hairy monsters. Speaking of which, here are my fave sesame street characters and how I rate them:

COOKIE MONSTER

Cookie is the MAN! Cookie's got it ALL going on! Cookie is a huge terry-cloth mass of greed, gluttony, and astonishing lack of self-restraint, and this is on EDUCATIONAL TV! And Cookie Monster, in his Zen-like wisdom, provided my generation with perhaps the only clear moral message we'll ever know, a beacon for our scattered lives: "C is for cookie, and that's good enough for me." It's good enough for all of us, Cookie. Rating: A

OSCAR THE GROUCH

Mean people may suck, but Oscar rocks. I always enjoyed Oscar's bit where he's happy when he's angry and angry when he's happy, but I never knew I'd be emulating him someday. Oscar is another example of a character that wouldn't even be considered if Sesame Street were being created today. Instead they'd slip some Zoloft in his feed, transplant him to a brightly-colored recycled oil-drum, and have him lead "Ring Around the Rosie." Rating: A-

ERNIE AND BERT

Yeah, yeah. Were they just roommates or were they lovers? Listen folks, they were Muppets. They may have had hands up their asses but it was purely for puppeteering purposes. Besides, for my money the real sexual tension was between Grover and Kermit. Anyhow, Ernie and Bert always had the song-and-dance thing down pat. Ernie's Rubber Ducky song is the Sesame Street classic, and Bert's "Doing the Pigeon" had similar appeal, plus a really unnerving dance move. And then there was the bit where their noses got pulled off. Always fun. Rating: B

THE COUNT

Man, talk about a twisted personality! Talk about obsessive-compulsive disorder! Talk about the numbers one through twelve! You really couldn't get the Count into any long-term plots because he really only did one thing, but he certainly did it well. I think many children learned to count purely on the off chance that they could summon thunder and lightning by doing so. But I have one question. The Count looked like a vampire, right down to the fangs. And he had the bat thing going. Was he a vampire? Did he feed on living blood? Or, more likely given his Muppetness, living felt? A horrifying yet oddly appealing idea. Rating: B-

BIG BIRD

The name was kind of a gimme. Big Bird is somewhat less twisted than most of the Muppets around him, but due to his intimidating size and lack of baby-lisp, he doesn't have the repulsive Elmo cuteness. In the early days he had a kind of lovable loser image going, with all his hallucination, and his calling Mr. Hooper "Mr. Looper," but Hooper/Looper took the dirt nap and Snuffy showed himself to everyone, so B.B.'s in a much more capable place now. Rating: B

GROVER

He's simply annoying (especally as a waiter) and doesn't care if he was. He's cute but not in an Elmo sort of way which is simply annoying but not in a Grover sort of way which is endearing. Oh, you know what I mean... Grover's my fave. Rating A+

ELMO

I hate him and I didn't even bother to rate him. Then why include him in this list? Well just so I can say that I hate him. Hehehe!

All my faves are sort of, well, twisted. Figures why I am the way I am now. Yeah, blame it all on TV...

A Beautiful Mind

I have a thing for smart guys. No, not the geeky type but the sexy, brooding, a bit angsty, devil - may - care smart guy. Smarts turn me on more than washboard abs do (but those are nice too). I've had the privilege to meet such men and have even shared varying degrees of "closeness" with some of them but there is one guy I'll never forget. I'll call him "Mr. Shankly".

Mr. Shankly list his occupation as "a writer by inclination and a humanist by inspiration". He taught me that sexuality and sensuality should not be objectified to fit a patriarchal pattern. He opened my fascination for friends and lovers and how the two can intermingle. He's into "retooling people's paradigms". He's a 'rebel' but a peace loving one. He showed me how one man can make a difference. He told me that I am the most "whole" person he has ever met and tried hard to make me see that. I'll forever be thankful for the brief time that I got to spend with him. His is one of the most beautiful minds I have ever encountered.

Here's a peek into that beautiful mind which I fell in love with. I hope he'll forgive me for posting this on my blog. Here's one of the stuff he wrote a few months back:

Thursday, September 14, 2006

Make them feel what its like in ruined part of Guimaras

Now that Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo and her entourage have stayed overnight in a resort on Guimaras Island, they say a part of the island is still beautiful. And that is true. In fact, all of Guimaras was once beautiful.

But government was sleeping when a Solar Sunshine converted ship with a captain with an expired license ventured to sail with 2,000,000 liters of bunker fuel. It slept for about two more weeks while the news about the oil spill was all over the new media. It woke up to create a task force. Now it is up and about and ready to savor Guimaras' beauty.

This time, will somebody please get hundreds of one-gallon paint cans and fill them with gasoline. Put them with open lids around the bed of the President and her entourage so that they can smell the gasoline while they sleep, till they wake up in the morning (that is, if they were able to sleep).

Then, when they go to the bathroom and dressing room, put the cans there as well, and when they come out, see how they will look for the rest of the day. When they go for their first cup of tea or coffee and breakfast, put the cans there and see how they will fill their stomachs between gulps of air perfumed with gasoline.

And when they board their luxury cars, put the hundreds of cans filled with gasoline in with them.

At the office, the cafeteria, wherever they go, bring the cans, open them for them to smell. Let us give them the opportunity to experience even just a far-cry similarity of how half of Guimaras feels.

Have they not seen all the blessings with which Petron Corp. and Solar Sunshine Development have gifted Guimaras? Oil, precious oil, so abundant, delivered right around every valued family domain, no value-added tax, no limit, no cost.

Even just for a day, let Arroyo and her entourage, and Petron and Solar Sunshine feel how every man, woman and child has lived in the other half of Guimaras for more than two weeks now.