THE PSYCHO PATH

observe & retort

2012-02-15T19:10:00.001+08:00

woke up, couldn't return to sleep, decided to blog... but with two conditions. the first one is i must write ten sentences or more. the second one is to be kept secret, which hopefully visitors will find out themselves by the end of this post. this exercise might be difficult for some but those with clever minds or keen eyes will surely spot the puzzle quickly. if you know the solution, put it in the comments. you win nothing, however, except for the pride of figuring the mystery out.

i'm not sure i'll write enough so i'll just include some nonsense. 1 to 999. i love odd numbers. crocodiles on tv. dinner tonight is porkchop. the bell curve sucks. sherlock rules!

googling isn't prohibited. not sure it would help though. unless someone else did this before me, which isn't impossible. how to look for it, now there's the tricky piece. still, i don't think i'm the first one to do this on their blog, but if so, then the better it serves my scheme. so people of the web, i implore you, use your intelligence to decipher this condundrum. the clock's ticking. time limit: one week.

p.s. i dont know where i got this from. someone committed suicide in my subconscious world then i opened my eyes to this concept which would not let go lest i digitize it. do i think it's cool? yes. will it be news/link worthy? i doubt.
p.p.s. guessed it yet? do not give up though. clue: something very common is missing from this post.

ii

2011-12-04T09:48:00.000+08:00

day after tomorrow, my daughter turns two years old. day after today is when we'll celebrate it. day after yesterday, i post my blog opener for the year and as i flip through my memory tome, i realize how much has changed. iaine has grown a lot as a little lady and i have grown a lot as a man.

during my bachelor years, i often questioned my purpose. i went from job to job, none of them lasting for more than a year. i'd withdraw my salary and spend it all. then i'd be broke and alone and i'd space out contemplating my life. i was trapped in that cyle for too long with nary a penny put aside for the proverbial precipitation period. even when jeean came into my life, i still lacked that special skill to cope with workplace bullshit.

when iaine was born, something was triggered in me. when i saw her for the first time, i knew the answer. suddenly, my life had reason. that i had to man up and take care of this child. it was my chance to prove i was worth something. no more impulse buying and pointless splurging. no more happy-go-lucky, devil-may-care attitude. no more quitting when the corporate heat is unbearable. iaine is my north. iaine is my bottomless hero drink. iaine is my gravity. iaine is my 42.

now, i have a stable job and i could provide for my family with more than enough to spare. i have had two promotions and very much inspired to pursue the next rung on the ladder. it has been two years of watching a slice of evolution unfold before my very eyes, of bragging about her early milestones and pwning parenthood copycats, of going home tired and sleepy but staying awake to watch her dream, of feeling complete. im sure that as time goes by, she'll have more ways to make me happy, amazed and proud as a father.

happy second birthday, iaine. i love you very much.

perchance to dream

2011-12-01T10:29:00.000+08:00

the other day, my dream was in english. also, it was an episode of walking dead. some of the characters from the show were there. some were my real-life relatives. and they were speaking english. it ended with rick grimes turning into a zombie himself. then his head grew really huge and he started eating everything up a la langoliers.

i dream of having a dream with subtitles someday

a sticky situation

2011-11-17T18:57:00.001+08:00

lately, traversing the information superhighway has been a bumpy ride. our dsl at home has long been disconnected (4k bucks reactivates it, which i'm actually contemplating on). my sister's myfi is luck-based. and the wifi in my dad's office is no faster than dial-up. seriously, all it needs is the modem sound and im back in '90s.

and so halfway through no-shave november, i decided to get globe's superstick. after several trips to the local mall, i got the sleek gizmo the other day. but i didn't get to use it until today because of the sim activation period of 24-48 hours. and when i did finally get to use it, the laptop i was using (my dad's) shut off by itself. turns out, the power adaptor went kaput. so i went out and bought a new one. and when i did finally get to use the darn superstick, the connection kept breaking that i couldn't even finish a speed test.

do you know when it finally worked glitch-free? when i was dressed for work and about to leave. with less than half an hour to enjoy the fruits of my labor, i watched my downloads disappear from the queue. the speed wasnt as high as advertised but it was fast enough, faster than that time when it was raining hard and flooding everywhere and the bandwidth gods gave me magic internet for a day.

hopefuly globe holds their end of the bargain and keep it up. else, this thing is getting shoved up someone's pooper.

uno dos stress

2011-11-09T19:41:00.000+08:00

in the movies, when someone wakes up from a nightmare's climax, they usually bolt up in bed screaming. never happened to me. usually i stay in the dream to find out what happens next but sometimes it would be so scary i'd have to wake myself up. and it's not even like when it's an extreme close-up of the eyes and they suddenly open up accompanied by a sound effect. nope, i simply slowly open my eyes.

anyways, when i woke up today, i didn't want to go to work. not that i hate my job (excluding that one guy, i love it). it's just that lately i've been feeling so stressed. sporadic headaches, abnormal crankiness, irritable bowel syndrome, and tired feeling even after enough sleep. i contemplated texting my team leader about not coming in. instead, i put on my glasses, got up and dragged myself to the bathroom. it used to be so easy use the big invisible book of excuses and skip work. but things have changed and i now earn the dough for my family. so yeah, screw my shitty sick shtick. off to the beehive i go.

but seriously, this stress thing is getting way worse than i can handle. so much that as a person who hates depending on medicine and doctors, im actually open to the idea of taking vitamins.

(the text above was typed on the blog post date but i was too stressed out that i never finished it. so now i am.)

as always, time with my beautiful family cured me. i remember a few weeks ago, jeean and iaine came to manila for my youngest sister's graduation lunch. when i came home from work that morning, i opened the door to a very happy iaine running towards me saying poppa. and that was it. that was all i needed. i had to man up and survive the stress week, go home and find solace in the sweet loving limbs of my wonderful wife and disarmingly cute daughter.

monochrome optique

2011-10-27T19:30:00.000+08:00

my ludovico project is near culmination. i actually feared i'd fail to hit the target what with the scarce personal free time of a working family man. i managed to finish the movies during bathroom breaks, idle time at work and several moments pre and post sleep. right now, the focus is on black and white movies, squeezing in one or two colored ones. if you're bored, interested, or insane and want to check my progress, you can flutter by my twitter by stabbing the chocobo on the right with your mouse pointer.

anyways, i bet this one's never crossed your mind: when people do countdowns, say 1-5, why do they always count like this: 1, 2, 3, 4, 4 1/2, 4 3/4, 5? why not 1, 2, 3, 4, 4 1/3, 4 2/3, 4 3/4, 5?! why do they always skip 2/3?

i seriously think that a law against giving atm cards and driving licenses to idiots should be passed. what a quick cash withdrawal and diaper purchase turned into an expletive-laden test of patience due to these intelligence-deprived creatures. these imbeciles have some sort of belief that they're special and important and so they make you waste your time waiting for them as they struggle to accomplish a supposedly simple task. typical atm routine of a moron: insert card, check balance, get card, look at receipt, decide on amount to withdraw, insert card again, take a while to figure it how much to withdraw, time runs out, get card, look at receipt again, insert card again, withdraw cash, get card, look at new receipt, decide to withdraw again, insert card, withdraw cash, get card, look at receipt and for some apparent reason these motherfuckers have exclusive knowledge of, they complete disergard the long queue of irate people behind them and insert the atm card for the last time to check the balance again! somebody please murder these people.

p.s. yes. random shit again. but this relaxes my earlobes.
p.p.s. hmm i guess hard work does pay off sometimes. i hope this goes on so i wouldn't have to leave this country and my family.

climbing mount molehill

2011-10-19T20:19:00.000+08:00

day three of my battle with general sniffles and his mucous army and i decide to pick up my imaginary pencil and make the blinking cursor vomit words into a blog post. with the digital dust and web cobwebs cleared, i type the first thing that comes into my mind:

i hate the duke of bloomberg.

don't want to talk about that so let's move on to the second thing that enters the thought theater:

"practice makes perfect. nobody's perfect. so why practice?"

contrary to what you might be thinking, i do not approve this piece of flawed logic. i have seen and heard it countless times and frankly my dear, i think it's a crock of bull. the first time i encountered it was in grade school, read it off a pocketbook of jokes because that was the stuff i was into during those years, along with burning paper edges and discovering porn. back then, my young smoke-filled and porn-baptized brain believe it was brilliant. it was right. it was three puzzle pieces perfectly connecting. and then i grew up and realized i've been misled, round the same time i found out santa claus didn't actually exist.

anyway, i hated it when the gears clicked and rang "bullshit" and i hated it even more when it got passed around through text messages. (and may the flying spaghetti monster have mercy on the soul of any person who deems it proper to use as a facebook status today) but the instance i hated it the most was when a local movie used it in the main character's speech because the writers couldn't come up with their own and simply hoped someone who had lived under a rock would at least giggle at it. but the movie's facepalm-worthiness did not end there. i did not watch the darn thing, so how did i know that the quote was in it? because they had the gall to put it in the trailer. yes, they honestly believed that the most effective way to sell the comedy movie to the public was to use an overused quote that wasn't even funny.

so what makes this logic wrong? the fact that it assumes that the things described as perfect in the first two sentences are the same. let's look at the second one first. nobody is perfect. what this simply implies it that no "person" is perfect. now, to the first sentence. practice makes perfect. what do you practice? singing, dancing, murdering, etc. with enough time and effort, you can perfect the singing or dancing of a particular song. sure, the perfection is subjective to the viewer or listener but that song was made in a particular way and that by achieving the same level of performance the song was meant for is considerable as perfect. so practicing can in fact help perfect a certain "action".

so sentences one and two don't really connect as perfectly as i had once thought. both are true but do not contradict one another because they do not pertain to the same thing. practice makes perfect because you can keep practicing until you perfect an "action" but no one can't practice being a "person" because that's just who you are. so even though nobody is perfect, it has no relation to the question practicing because you still have to practice to be perfect at something.

yes, this is me overthinking the mundane. and yes, this was a long and pointless exercise, apart from the idea that i needed to update this decaying blog. so, thank you for wasting your time with me.

p.s. most trailers of pinoy movies are badly edited. especially comedies, where they pack all the jokes they have in them. i admit to have watched these kind of movies before but when i did, i definitely did not laugh at the jokes previously showcased in the trailer. a large majority of the moviegoers did, however, and i was like, wasn't that in the trailer that was on tv every fucking hour?!
p.p.s. my blog has risen from the dead. it is now a zombie blog. or a zomblog.

every saturday i have home planet sickness

2011-08-24T06:55:00.000+08:00

most of my dreams are weird. me flying is a common thing, even when im quite sure it's against the sandman's predetermined script. i once had a dream where the world was ending and the only way to stop it was to speak a word written on a cave wall. i have since forgotten what that word was so sorry, world. another unforgettable dream i had was what i called the loop where i kept waking up into a dream (predating inception by more than a decade), the scariest nightmare i've ever had.

anyways, the one i had last is right up that alley. in the dream i slept and dreamed another dream that was somehow connected to the first layer dream, and i was discussing it with someone i cant remember who. but the one thing that latched on to my consciousness was what was written on the shirt i was wearing which i saw when i faced a mirror (which is weird in itself because even though i was facing a mirror, the words weren't backwards):

EVERY SATURDAY I HAVE HOME PLANET SICKNESS

to me, it's a year's worth of wtf. i'll never know how my brain came up with that or where it picked that up. first thing i did when i opened my eyes was get up, of course, and then turn on my father's laptop, sit on the swivel chair, click the chrome shortcut and search the exact sentence in google. zilcho. so i sought refuge in reddit and asked for help. first reply i got was the most obvious explanation: you're an alien. well, im not. some said it could be a mnemonic thing like every good boy does fine. some said, in support of the alien theory, that saturday means saturn's day, and so i have home planet sickness on that particular day because my home planet is saturn. some said it's the result of my brain just putting a bunch of subconscious data together, which i already know.

overly long sigh. i guess i'll never get a definite answer to this riddle because i think that would mean trying to make sense of the mysterious ways the brain works. i just thought maybe it was something that already existed and my mind just plagiarized it. i'll be content with knowing it was an original subconscious creation.

p.s. what im quite sure of is im gonna have that printed on a shirt. yeah.

a thousand words

2011-08-19T07:55:00.000+08:00

i'm not a photographer nor am i an expert in photography. im not even sure if they're the same thing. but i do know shit from gold. also, i hate trends. so when this picture-taking trend exploded, i saw shit everywhere. suddenly, every person with a dslr hanging from their neck is a photographer. suddenly, they're watermarking their snapshots and offering their services online. it's like these people bought a sword from the store and started calling themselves warriors. well, money can buy happiness but it can't buy talent.

sure there are workshops and trainings out there, but those can only do so much. oftentimes, these gatherings produce only by-the-book photographers who can't think beyond what they've learned. as i've said before, true talent is inborn and it can't be replicated by wannabes.

so what do these incompetent buffoons do? they turn to photoshop. what their photos lack, photoshop provides. didn't have proper lighting? tweaking curves and levels will do the trick. boring background? add some royalty free clouds. lines on subject's face? airbrush that crap out. airburshing gets the most abuse as some magazines have covers sporting mannequins. what is wrong with these people? great photographers plan and prepare for their shots. they don't just push the shutter button and let photoshop handle the rest. a little color correction and editing some unwanted stuff is okay. but beyond that is a subtraction to the photographer's credit.

i knew someone who photoshops every picture taken and actually proud of it. they'd add grunge effects, filters, textures and the like just to make the photo "better". they'd take a picture and then make it black and white in photoshop. why not shoot it in black and white in the first place? what's the dslr for then? it's acceptable to do all of these digital manipulations on a photo from a point-and-click digicam. a dslr is expensive for a reason: there are things you can achieve with it that you cannnot with a digicam and you should spend time to learn them instead of depending on software to cheat and fool your fans/clients.

so to anyone who owns a dslr, print this and stick it right below the viewfinder: great photographers don't rely on photoshop.

p.s. there are only 373 words on this post.
p.p.s. christopher lao: if you are so goddamn smart as your allies say you are, you should have admitted your mistake of turning your car into a buoy instead of being a total douchebag idiot and blaming others for not telling you what's already obvious. fuck you.

year two

2011-08-11T19:52:00.004+08:00

for two years, you have endured my existence and forgave my shortcomings. i am a slob, a deviant and an occasional asshole, but you've put up with me every time. a medal forged from a meteor won't even suffice to represent how awesome you are. i love you, m'lady. for everything you've been/done/given to me, thinks.

the tranquil monarch

2011-08-09T23:56:00.006+08:00

when i was young,the only thing i knew about papang was that he was rich. he was like a beardless santa claus to us. on the rare occasions he would visit, my siblings, cousins and i would line upon his arrival, one hand ready for the mano, the other palm upward for the legal tender. on our birthdays, he'd come and bring the best gifts. these appearances became fewer as we grew up until the tables were reversed and we visited him instead. and we realized that he was not ours alone. he was zeus, who had many wives and fathered many children, who in turn gave him other grandchildren. however, we didn't feel different about him for we had nothing but respect for him.

being a man of a few words, he did not force it upon us; it was automatic. being with him was like being with a king. you had to be at your best behavior. even the drunkards and boors knew courtesy in his presence. part of it as, i guess, his lotharian legacy. but im pretty sure it was primarily because, at his age, he was still hard at work. instead of reading newspapers on a rocking chair, he went to his office and did paperwork and managed his business. (once, i was going home on a holiday and he was in his office signing papers.) and he'd been doing this his whole adult life. he was a self-made man and i admired him for it. he was my don corleone.

that's why it tore my heart to pieces when i found out he had passes away. it was too sudden. i did not know that visiting him in the hospital was the last time i'd see him breathing. he'd been sick before but he recovered from it quickly. some people say that it was his time. i& disagree. it was not his time. i just had lunch with him about a month ago and he was in a great health. on the day he was admitted to makati med, he was still giving detailed orders to my father regarding the business. it was not his time to go. death miscalculated.

when my wife told me on the phone, the tears just burst. i really had no inkling that he wouldn't survive. had i known when i was in the icu room, i could have at least said thank you to him for everything we owe him. which is a lot.

papang always insisted that i was smart. everytime my name would pop up in a conversation, he'd comment how smart i was. i was a very intelligent kid, but he kept this up even when i dropped out of college and basically messed up my life. now that i've pulled myself together with my own family and a stable job, i thought i was on my way to live up to what he'd been bragging about. it's too sad that he'll never get to see me prove worthy of the surname and make him completely proud of me as his first grandchild. it's even sadder that he'll never get to know his great granddaughter better, and vice versa.

wherever he is now, he's probably with mamang and getting the biggest ear-pinching of his life, but happy nonetheless, because the greatest advantage of having many families is the vast amount of genuine love we collectively give him back. rest in peace, papang.

p.s. of course, my grandchildren shall call me papang.

cornholio

2011-07-26T20:15:00.001+08:00

holy tp for my bunghole, batman! beavis and butt-head have returned! yes! three exclamation points!!!

i remember first day in college and some guy was having us go around the school and do get-to-know-each-other-better stuff, one question everyone had to answer was: what's your favorite tv show? 90% of my classmates said friends. when it was my turn, i said "beavis and butt-head" and they all laughed like i was joking. and so i was like "duh, it's like the best fucking thing to ever go through cathode ray tube. for your insolence, i should all scoop your eyes out with a spoon and wear em like a monk's bead necklace!" in my head. (and that, my friends, is your pre-facebook years useless memory story for today.)

anyways, ive been a big fan of the deviant duo ever since i saw their first short "frog baseball" on liquid television. cant wait for october and find out which music videos they'll critique.

p.s. another one who needs to come back: migraine boy.

it's not always rainbows and butterflies

2011-05-25T23:52:00.012+08:00

here's a rundown of stuff that happened recently. why? because i own this blog and i could put pictures of booger sculptures if i wanted to. also, any incoherence will be deliberate. anyways, grab a sandwich. this might take a while. (the reading of the post, not the booger sculptures)

burn baby burn
i realized that the creation story regarding a god making humans out of clay and cooking them in an oven is probably true because the only explanation for this ridiculously hot summer is that we are being reheated. last monday, i woke up with itchy arms. i had rashes near my elbows. as far as i know, i have no allergies. what's weirder was that the rashes suddenly disappeared and migrated to my buttcheeks, then to my thighs. as a believer of mind over body, i endure the itch til the next day, which i did not know was scheduled as worst heartburn day. ive had mild gerd attacks for years that went away upon burps. this last one proved strong for not only did it repel my eructative abilities but rendered different pills useless. when eating became painful, i gave up. i took time off work and spent three days in a hospital, nursed by my wife and roused from sleep by nurses. on my last day there, they knocked me out with anesthesia and alien probed my insides. (looked like i swallowed a tiny wolverine on berserker barage) before that, my wife kept asking me if i was afraid. actually i was looking forward to it. i wanted to know what i would see during loss of consciousness. so when i was in the operating room and they were about to press a chlorofor-filled hanky on my face, i was like, this is it, im going to find out what coma patients dream of. which was nothing. something that tasted like piss was sprayed into my mouth and my eyes closed to blink, and then i opened them again and i was somewhere else. i had teleported to a garage. diagnosis: gastritis, esophagitis, hiatal hernia and urticaria. chocolates, spicy food, juices, softdrinks, beer and a bunch of others are categorized as should be consumed. went home almost immediately after the procedure and awaited the excuse for the botched rapture that some moron predicted and so many morons believed. there should be a rule that anyone who makes a prediction that doesn't happen gets pooped on by all skeptics. and anyone who believed the bullshit licks the poop off.

sweet child o' ours
there's so much to be said about our daughter, and yet none of it wont be enough. iaine is such a beautiful little girl. she's always smiling, always happy and it's infectious. she makes us all laugh with her tricks and random quirks. like when we were on the bed and i saw her clamp her lips shut as if she had eaten something. i grabbed her and tried to fish it out with my index finger but couldnt because iaine wouldnt open her mouth. so i told her to say "aah" and she just gave me the funniest half-opened mouth face. i just lost my wits there and found out that there really wasn't anything in there. i got pwned by my own daughter. the only time she starts a hissy fit is when her slumber's cut short. but even that doesnt last long. she'll be clingy and frowny for a while but then revert to good mood real quick. as with all kids, she'll blow a fuse when you take away from her something she wants but it won't last long or develop into an all-out hellspawned tantrum. i want to teach her early on that you can't always have everything you want. but what iaine is really, really good at is being sweet. this is the greatest reward of parenthood, of having a job, of giving love. i work my arse off to take the pig meat home. i try to get as much sleep as i can on weekeneds but can't because sometimes iaine would half-wake up in the middle of night and id have to give her milk to keep her calm. that and all of the many, many ordeals a new parent had to go through, reduced to microscopic size when compared to the overpowering warmth of iaine's sweetness, which i don't even know if she understands or not. the other day, she woke me up with a kiss on the cheek and then proceeded to do the same to her mother. and yesterday, my wife and i had a small argument downstairs and weren't in speaking terms when we lied on the bed upstairs. iaine was trying to get some sleep and probably noticed the silence so she took my hand then took her mother's hand and put them on top of each other. cue minitears. chibihime patched things up for us. on a totally unrelated note, how did abs-cbn get a way with titling their new series after the famous rock band? (answer: by using the same power of unoriginality that allowed gma7 to rip off yo gabba gabba)

marooned (and how was the sandwich btw?)
first foreign artist's concert i ever watched was vanilla ice in araneta coliseum when i was in grade school. second was bon jovi in rizal memorial sports complex in high school. and third was linkin park in ccp open grounds a few years ago. capping off my very long weekend is the much-anticipated maroon 5 concert, which i had filed a leave and bought tickets for about one month prior. this was primarily for my beloved love because even though im working 5 days a week and we have a child to take care of, i still wanted us to be able to spend time together like before we got married. of course, with the aforementioned factors and time constraints, we dont get to do it as much. a movie here, a dinner there. so i thought the maroon 5 show was a great rare moment date for us. plus it's actually her first concert experience. so we put off watching house episodes on bed and queued up with the marooners (i dont know if they're actually called that), bronze tickets in hand. we found a nice spot and camped there. when the lights went out and the drums pounded out, the awesome soundtrip began. the band sounds exactly the same live, which is always nice. jeean spent the whole hour and a half of pop rock music perched on the rails. inside the smx convention center, i noted three types of maroon 5 fans. the chill ones who went there for the music (where we belong); the uptights, who were there because they can afford a handful of vip tickets but dont really know the band so they just sit in their chairs waiting for freebies to be thrown their way; and the fantards who know every single word of every song and who'd sacrifice their vocal chords just to scream the name of the vocalist who cant even hear them. i admit, i merely downloaded the maroon 5 tracks but i really believe that the best way to support a band you like is to watch their concerts. and to jeean: "back and forth we sway like branches in a storm, change the weather still together when it ends." i love you very much. looking forward to more adventures our copycats will try to imitate but fail at miserably.

usually i'd type out a couple of sentences to signal the end of the blog post and wrap things up but

p.s. on the bus ride to manila, there was a family of four in front of me and when the bus conductor handed them their tickets, two of which were discounted, the father asked the conductor how much all of it was. the conductor said later because he had other people to attend to. to the model father of two, use your brain, asswipe.

player select

2011-04-28T19:53:00.003+08:00

on a gaming news blog, a socially important question was asked: what's your dream game? this i pondered over a teetering stack of cases of bottled anger for grammatically challenged company speakers suffering from dysarthria who should not be given the task of divulging vital information and insult my intelligence. my answer after this part where i pressed enter.

the world has ended and you are the last person alive. but unlike i am legend, there are no vampires fighting over a piece of your precious flesh. you are simply alone and free to do anything. and i mean, anything. everything works, there's enough water supply and electricity to last your singular needs for years. you can go anywhere. and i mean, anywhere. take a car and drive to the next city. locked doors can be kicked open or broken through with an axe. low fences do not constrain you to a certain path. you eventually end up on a skyscraper rooftop and fall and at this point you realize why you're the only one alive and why there is no life meter: you are immortal.

and then the mystery gradually unfolds. there is no specific location or action for the story to progress. you're out for food and you catch a glimpse of a moving shadow. you chase it but it's gone. clues pop up where you are, not where you have to be. the clues point to a place where there's a machine that will allow you to create one companion. the possibilities are endless. you can make a person of the opposite sex, an animal, a robot, anything. whatever you create, it will do your bidding.

later on, you'll find your companion dead, evidently murdered. you return to the machine to create a new one but the machine has been destroyed. and then from far, far away, a beam of light shoots up in the sky and when you follow its direction, you find out it is coming from an island which you must get to...

p.s. i dream of a future where there are no loading screens.
p.p.s. i left out the ending on purpose in case a game studio decides to purchase the idea. but i do have an ending in mind. you're god and its creation 2.0 and you're doing it as a human and erased your knowledge of goddom and... oh shit.

my better half is best

2011-04-18T17:55:00.003+08:00

i am blessed to have a spouse whose external beauty is only surpassed by her internal resplendence. i plucked her from the flower garden and planted her in nibelheim. she now has surrendered herself to the hivemind.

she has temporarily rainchecked her nightingaling for the sake of our beautiful offspring's growth and has taken on the mantle of a freelance creative desginer. my swan wife weaves her clients' dreams into printer-bound realities. her husband is so proud of her inimitable talents and grateful for her pecuniary assistance. the stork had chosen wisely.

gianina, my wonder woman, the universe envies the expanse of my love for you.

shiny graves for frozen slaves

2011-03-28T22:08:00.008+08:00

save your brain cells. title's nonsense generated online. so let's cut the crap, slice the shit, fillet the feces and dice the doodie and get the turdball rolling for my random stuff commentary enumerated in japanese.

ichi: watched sucker punch with my sweet pea babydoll yesterday (and in the process of piecemealing a review) and there was a bunch of bozos bitchslapped to stultiloquence by the real-to-imaginary world switch. i hate these kind of people. why do they question the movie the moment they see something they cant comprehend? cant they automatically conclude that it may possibly be explained in subsequent scenes or at the end? or even if it's never explained, cant these morons just shut the hell up and watch the damn movie? i mean, seriously, i hope there was a way to keep these idiots from getting inside the theater, or at least the ones im in. (they can do all the shit as much as they want in theaters showing pinoy flicks) i dont see movies theatricaly that much but almost every time i do, there'll be these imbeciles ruining the whole experience for me. i hate all of these people who want the entire movie plot spoonfed to them 100% clear, who watch but dont see and hear but don't listen, who want all movies tailor-made to their satisfaction. they're like wet ugly baby birds in a nest chirping with their beaks open and the mother bird has to chew and spit their worms for them. they shouldn't be sold tickets to films that are beyond their mental capacity and, accordingly, shouldn't be allowed to rant about it in their reviews. if you're one of them, fuck you.

ni: the director of sucker punch, zack snyder, will also direct the new superman reboot and nearly every week a new cast member is announced. joining henry cavill (supes/clarky), kevin costner (jonathan kent) and diane lane (martha kent) is amy adams as lois lane. i like the first three, but amy adams as lois lane just ruffle my feathers, if you catch my drift. sure it's a smart decision to cast an oscar nominated actress in a role integral to the story but i strongly believe miss adams aint right for the part. lois lane is supposed to be tough, a woman with an attitude. she's this daring reporter who's not afraid to stick her nose where she shouldn't, just to get the scoop. that's why she's always getting herself into situations where superman's presence is required. so it is only makes sense to get an actress who looks the part in one look. margot kidder did well in the old movies and that chick from smallville was just awesome. but amy adams doesn't look tough. even if she had fangs. this lois lane looks like she'll need superman's help because she's stupid and weak. i'll trust your decision, snyder-man, but i really think queen gorgo, carla gugino and olivia wilde are better choices.

san: after over a year of invisibility, ping "i have no balls" lacson has resurfaced, answering questions from the media insisting he did no wrong. except that hiding from justice is wrong. when you're a former cop and now a senator whom people voted to uphold the law, being a fugitive when you're accused of murder is very, very wrong. the issue here isn't his guilt or innocence or whether the prosecutors are after him. the issue here is that ping lacson is a coward. he's telling every filpino out there, especially the criminals-to-be, that hiding from the law is okay. he said he hid because he's innocent. but that's his word. even if there is no evidence against you and they're just ganging up on you to get you behind bars, isn't facing your accusers the manly way of dealing with this problem? is hiding really the way to prove your innocence? bullshit. who the fuck elected for this guy? so the thing is if someone decides to kill another one, he could simply say he's innocent, go into hiding and wait it all out? what a way to show the country what a law-abiding citizen you are, lacson. and you even had the gall to compare yourself to a prisoner? prisoners dont get to eat what they want, they dont sleep on comfortable beds, they dont get to chat with their families or surf the internet to pass time, they don't get to travel from country to country, and you have the nerve to align yourself with them? you bastard. i think the only thing that you and the prisoners have in common is getting your ass pounded because that's probably the only thing that got you through this "ordeal" of yours. fuck you. (and to those journalists who interviewed him but did not have the guts to ask the right questions, fuck you too.)

hair spew: the mane issue

2011-03-06T20:26:00.003+08:00

every weekend i'd be home with my smiling scion of sweetness and my sweet spouse of smiles and there'd always be a moment where the latter would take notice of my hair and ask me to have it cut. and every time that happens, i always tell her i'd do it only when everyone ceases forcing me to suffer another monumental trimming of my life. and every time i say that, she points out that i'm just saying that and that i have actually no plans of getting a haircut.

partially, she is correct but from my standpoint of view, that's something you do not plan. right now, yes, i do not want to lose my locks. but that fateful time will arrive (maybe tomorrow, i don't know) that i'll wake up and the first thing in my head as agreed upon by all of my mental entities will be to get a haircut. and then i'll probably google the hairstyle i'll want to have, which of course, ought to be something i've never had before.

but let's cue the flashback blur effect and siphon some background on the topic at hand. (this might be long so if you're busy, uninterested or on the verge of death and would rather read something more thought-provoking, you are permitted to leave as the two previous paragraphs seem enough to fulfill the primary objective of this post)

when i was a kid, i had moptop beatles hair, probably because my dad was a big fab four fan. when i started going to school, it was trimmed in such a way that it looked like a bowl was placed on top of my head and the barber made cuts straight along the rim. i rocked those rulered bangs for many years with occasional gel-enabled rizalian pompadour days. as puberty took over, i gradually lost my maternal dependence and began to loathe my hair. i developed a habit of jerking my head upwards to get strands off my face. i had to carry a comb around in my pocket but for some inexplicable reason, i kept losing that beige-colored toothed piece of plastic.

and then came high school, which meant four years of bad hair days. looking back, i still cannot comprehend why we had to have haircuts with such specific dimensions, three fingers from the ear and two from the eyebrow, if im correct. for all of my adult life i have never been in any job or situation where that haircut was required. anyways, a centimeter longer and an administrator would chop a chunk off forcing you to have an even stupider haircut than the infamous keempee look. skinheadedness was frowned upon back then and i never intended to go bald because i was so skinny then and wore glasses half of high school that i thought i'd look like gandhi. i also got tired of buying new combs so around third year, i decided i wasn't going to be a slave to grooming. i stopped combing my hair. of course, i'd use my hand to run through it when needed but i eschewed combs completely.

college onward, i took the haircut liberty to new verticals. i wore caps in class. i got spikes. undercut? sure. one day i'd be long-haired and then the next day, everything's suddnely mowed down to baldness (i got sick the first time). i even had my hair dyed red and got called rodman or moffat by strangers. i had it braided but never got the chance to get dreads. i did all of these things to my hair just because i wanted to. never due to fads.

but of all the hair metamorphoses i went through, i felt most comfortable wearing my hair long. not because i like rock music. (the top two questions i always get asked because of my hair: are you in a band? do you have a lighter?) i just like it this way. when i was younger and making comic strips on old notebooks instead of playing outside, i created my imaginary adult persona and he had ponytailed long-hair all the time so i guess having hair like this was one of my childhood dreams. (that guy was also very muscular and always had a lit cigarette on his lips -- staples of a boy's concept of coolness, i think -- but i never had either ever) ive stuck to using a specific brand of shampoo believing it helps in the faster growth of my already fast-growing hair. i'd avoid shaving facial hair for a couple of months and people would start calling me jesus.

so yeah, this is the definitive jai hairdo. how long it will get depends on the time i get the urge to see the mirror image of scissors murdering my scalp grass or if circumstances call for it (like when i got married), whichever comes first.

what it all comes down to is this: people think men look better with short hair not because it's the truth but because that's they been programmed to believe. so, as with most things, no one should force anything upon anybody just because it's dictated by the norm. hair length shouldn't be an issue. that's the long and the short of it.

p.s. i just got promoted recently, which means my hard work paid off, which mean my salary will increase (by how much, i dont know) which does not mean im coming to work with a new haircut. hah!
p.p.s. im halfway watching the kids are all right and already there've been two scenes involving gay porn. wtf. i dont know if i should go on, afraid there'll be more. i want to vomit. and watch five hours of real 100% straight made-for-real-men porn just to unsee that crap.

what's your sign? dead end.

2011-01-16T18:34:00.001+08:00

librans have been described as bastions of balance, appreciators of aesthetics, champions and of charm. and, as someone born on september 26, i believed that that's who i was for years. not that i strongly adhered to that belief. (there are facets to my being that cannot be specified) it's more like, yeah, i'm like exactly that but not everyone with the same sign as mine could possibly be like that, right? (proven by a few librans ive encountered who have never known fairness) in relation with my previous post, im pretty sure i was born this way and merely connected some personality traits associated with libra, and definitely never reformatted myself just to fit the zodiac template.

so anyways, news has spread like spam mail about the revamped horoscopic dodecahedron. astrologers were like, hey, palmreader, wassup? nothing much, balltoucher. just bored and out of generic horoscope ideas. don't worry, dude, i got just the thing. it's 2011, so let's shake things up a bit and add another zodiac sign for lols. that's awesome! let's pick ophiuchus and squeeze him between scorpio and sagittarius. why that one? because i said so, bitch! now go and buy me pizzz. my ass is itchy.

to sum the poorly written astrologers' conversation, yes, because of some constellation readjustment, they added a new zodiac, ophiuchus, meaning there are now 13 signs. despite my triskaidekaphilia, my sign is now supposedly virgo, which just doesn't make sense. but the idiocy does not end there. astronomers have "confirmed" this clustercrap and gave a correction of epic fail proportions: it's been that way for years. in other words, those newspaper and tv horoscopes you've been basing your daily lives on have been false as your grandparents' pearly whites.

screw this zodiac shit. from now on im just a guy who stands for balance, appreciates beauty and possesses ridiculous amounts of charm.

and likes pizza.

p.s. today's realization: it's fiesta downtown and the jeepneys have been rerouted. and guess what, captain obvious? zero traffic jams.

rollerskating octopus, exit stage left

2011-01-13T20:59:00.009+08:00

while eating chickenjoy for lunch and hopping channels for good tv background noise, i came upon a zombie movie where a couple of doctors were explaining zombification to a soldier so i was like, yes gore! exploding heads, spurting blood and falling entrails, the perfect audiovisual complement to my meal. then one of the soldiers stumbled into a strip club.

and i immediately thought of a particular local talent show where an actress supposedly won by poledancing. when people had talked about her performance some time ago, i didn't react because, i guess, i just didn't gave a shit about it that day. but today, with the image of that actress accepting her prize for slithering around a vertical rod (even though i didnt actually watch it) projected in my cranial wall, i was like, wait a minute, mcfly, pole-effing-dancing?! that's one of the most useless talents ever, if it's even correct to consider it a talent. commence defensive argument:

i've always believed that talent is something that you're born with, that it's already part of your dna configuration the moment you're conceived. and talent being innate, it should be something you can do without using special objects or equipment or anything else. you can do it anytime, anywhere with near-zero preparation. anything that requires external aids and can be learned is not a talent but a skill. like in rpg games, you learn skills. for example, magic isn't talent. anybody can do it with the proper training and props. when you were born, you did not have genes that give you super card-shuffling ability. now, singing is a talent. and by singing i mean great vocal prowess and not ear-damaging wailing of people whose ears are already too damaged to hear how bad they sound. that is not singing.

my wife is an amazing singer. and because that is her inborn talent, she can sing on the spot because that beautiful voice of hers came part of the package when the stork delivered her to her parents. (which makes me hate my voice even more) dancers can show their moves without music. a couple of steps and you'd already know if one is a good dancer because that unfakeable sense of motion was built-in when they passed the assembly line in the baby factory. i considered writing as my talent but since that needs pen and paper (or keyboard), ive realized my real talent is storytelling. i can spend hours and hours blabbering about my ideas.

so, whether it's in the office, out on the street or a kid's party, my wife, some dancer and i can show everyone our talents. a poledancer cannot. and, of course, should not.

p.s. it's too early to determine iaine's true talent, but for now, her talent is being extremely cute.

p.p.s. although... a poledancer can do routines on a streetsign. but that's just stupid.

there are b-sides to every story

2011-01-07T23:15:00.009+08:00

years ago, round the time when i only had one sibling, my father worked overseas. he'd mail us pictures of himself standing alone in the middle of the desert or sitting in his room, wearing a keffiyeh and sporting a badass beard and my mom would send him photographs of us with notes written on the back. and then, sometimes we'd be gathered in the living room, hunched over this silver casette player making voice recordings. though i have no distinct recollection of what childish crap i yapped about to my far-flung father (probably how we missed him, my shoe size and some toy i wanted to have), i do remember a particular portion of those recordings, the recurrent theme song of my parents that concluded our voice tapes:

anyways, to compare, if in the future i leave my family to work abroad, there'll be no hardcopy photos in the mail with scribbles in the back, we got facebook. and jeean wont have to subdue a hyperactive iaine just to record her wishlist, we got skype. still, the mere thought living several time zones apart from my two beloveds is an immediate ticket to boohooville. acclimating to different area codes was hard but i managed it because there's text and that comforting knowledge of being able to scurry home in a dozen jiffies. to actually spend a year or two in another country without getting to hug my wife or play with my daughter is gonna be quite an ordeal. i extremely hope that it never comes to that.

p.s. as of this typing, hitgirl is still battling cold and fever. give the cute little baby girl a break, will ya?

p.p.s. and my best friend, jeean, is dueling with stress. cut the gorgeous sexy woman some slack, will ya?

ludovico

2010-12-27T13:46:00.002+08:00

one day when i was having my lavatorial musings, i suddenly happened upon the idea of watching one movie per day for one whole year. i know i could do it. i would only have to devote two hours, give or take, to my filmlust every day. but as the time where the cliche image of an old man and a baby personifying the year switch is used again got closer, i realized that with work and family, i may not be in the expected liberty to accomplish my self-imposed task. plus i would rather get my shut-eye recharge or have high quality time with my wife and daughter than watch a pinoy movie with a song-and-dance routine in the end. (not that i was actually planning to include such an abomination in my watchlist)

and so i trimmed the proposed 365 films to 169. i remember back in high school when i had the temporary amentia to run for batch representative and lost, the number of fools i fooled into voting for me was 169. 169 is also 13 multiplied by 13, which is my favorite number.

so here's the dealio: 169 movies in 2011. doesnt matter if i've watched it or not, but the unseen would be prioritized. part of the project is to tweet a quick review after each viewing, also to keep track of progress. when the desired number is reached, nothing special will happen. i would simply lean back, relax and enjoy the priceless bliss of not having done it for any particular cause.

if you have a reservation, you're in the wrong place

2010-10-03T20:14:00.001+08:00

if you've been living under a pile of dry cow dung or relying on your telltale neighbor's spithole for recent events, then you havent probably heard/read the latest great piece of news from the magical world of science. word is out from the astronomical grapevine about a newly discovered planet some 20 lightyears away from earth that just might be the next globe humans would inhabit if for some reason we'd need to skedaddle from third rock.

it's called gliese 581g and, being in the goldilocks zone (not too hot, not too cold) it is, for now, the best contender for our intergalactic squatting. and by having near-perfect conditions for life to exist, there's a supersize chance that there'd be living beings there, the looks of which, i bet, no sci fi novelist could dream up by a longshot.

what repercussions this discovery would have on religion, i'd rather not go there in avoidance of rant mode. but i really am psyched like a punk on acid about this because it has always been my big wish to be alive on the advent of any alien race confirmation.

and who knows, at the rate technology's is evolving, it wouldnt be a moon-punch to expect that one day iaine would aking my permission to go on a vacation with her bffs on gliese 581g -- or whatever it would be named then (planet jaithemagnificent would be nice).

p.s. speaking of the r-word, ive finished the art of war and moving on to richard dawkins' the god delusion.
p.p.s. nam.

...and i'm back (to blogging/working)

2010-09-26T00:01:00.003+08:00

hmm just before i sat to type, i had a couple of excuses sentences constructed in my idea factory explaining why the blog was in limbo for three-months but i decided not to put them here for the same reasons that the blog was in limbo for three-months.

anyways, if you watch futurama then get prof. farnsworth's voice in your head because i'm about to say: "good news, everyone!" im a bum father no more! well, im a long way from buying my daughter dollhouses and ponies but i just landed a job as a transcriber for a research/software company and it's really great. ive worked for many companies that declared their employees were their assets and they valued their workforce but those words have never been true until now. i refuse to go into details but let's just say that the perks definitely perk you up.

the downside of it all is that five days a week, im far from iaine and jeean. it's impossible not to miss my wonderchild and loving wifi. skype helped but even if it ever gets the 3d upgrade, it can never equate with the bliss of actually being there with them. treading new environment and making new friends was fun but i kept counting the hours that always seemed to stretch further every time i checked the time.

when i got home this morning, i came upon a sleepy iaine who beamed up at the sight of me. i carried her and she gave me a where-have-you-been look. the super spouse arrived shortly and i was happy to be surrounded by love. iaine and jeean are the two defibrillator paddles to my work-worn heart.

i listen to the art of war during my office-bound commuting and sun tzu said: "do not interfere with an army that is returning home" because a man whose heart is set on returning home will fight to the death against any attempt to bar his way and is therefore too dangerous an opponent to be tackled.

clear!

p.s. the awesomous wifus is also undergoing training of her own. what has two thumbs and is very proud of his nurse wife? this guy.
p.p.s. ...and i'm 30 years old.

the hidden post from a moron's blog

2010-06-13T21:28:00.001+08:00

mrs. moron's best recipe for moronity

ingredients:
.01 pound of brain
5 tons of fugly
23 gallons of bad grammar
1 pixelated blog banner
3 million tablespoons of imitation

procedure:
1. find a person who is superior in intelligence and looks (extremely easy) and mimic everything that person does but never admit it. instead, change the topic by making baseless assumptions. if all else fails, invent an insult and consider it as truth.
2. in a ginormous blender, mix .01 pound of brain and 23 gallons of bad grammar. vomit into blender. shit into blender. take the neighbor's dog and make it vomit and shit into the blender. put blender outside your house with a sign asking everybody passing by to say something nice about your son and then vomit and shit into the blender. puree. drink it and blog about something. the .01 of brain and 23 gallons of bad grammar will make sure that everything you write will be full of grammatical errors, punctuation errors, spelling errors and pointless blabber.
3. create a fan page for your son and use his name to make a term to call his forced fans. for example: if your son's name is carl, then his fans will be carlanians. because nora's fans are noranians and vilma's fans are vilmanians, so yeah, carlanians are fans of...carl.
4. showcase your incomparable photoshop skills by putting 1 pixelated banner on your blog. make your profile sound as pretentious as you can. for example: trick people into thinking that you listen to classical music but say "classic music". boast your cooking prowess by stating that you actually cook gourmets. not gourmet food, gourmet meals or gourmet cuisine, but gourmet, the noun that means a connoisseur of food and drink.
5. use 5 tons of fugly to express deep hatred for the physically gifted ones, but insist that you do not envy them and firmly believe that you are better-looking. never let yourself be called it-would-be-an-insult-to-housemaids-to-say-that-you-look-like-one assface ugly. never. because you know you look worse than that. your situation is called a "worst face scenario".

parental guidance

2010-05-07T11:53:00.002+08:00

chronicling iaine's growth in a full-length indie film called life.

motorcycle morons make me mad

2010-04-08T17:25:00.008+08:00

while my way long overdue post on epigonism remains in gestation, allow me to squeeze this recent-events-inspired one in. first, the indirect motorcycle mishap...

three nights ago, we (jeean, iaine and the driver/me and my in-laws: mommy, linlyn, zshalia and adrienne and) were headed for sm to have dinner in celebration iaine's 2nd month. we had just crossed the only bridge to our destination and, as usual, traffic moved at chelonian pace. as the car in front of us began to move forward from a full stop, i heard the irritating blare of horn from a far-behind but incoming motorcycle. as the noise grew louder, a couple on a moped slowed down on the right side of the lane ahead of us. suddenly, the source of the auditory annoyance arrived at breakneck speed and, adjective appropriate, the rider swerved to avoid the two-wheeler upfront and crashed on the side of the road all by himself. unaware, the mopeders went on and joined the other cars in the distance. without wasting a single micromoment of his wipeout, the stuntman audition reject abruptly stood up, left his motorcycle on the road and ran away. whether it was because he wanted to chase the moped, save his face from shame or it was simply due to inertia, we didn't stay long enough to find out. we drove around the fallen machine and talked and laughed about the whole thing for ten seconds.

the incident last thursday afternoon, however, took a pretty serious turn. we (jeean, iaine and i) were headed for sm (yet again) to grab some grub and have my old, timeworn specs replaced by new ones. after iaine's monthly pedia visit, we took a detour and stopped over my in-laws' house to retrieve my wedding ring which i inadvertently left in the bathroom. with the ring back around its designated wearer, i steered the revo back onto the road (i drive pretty fast when im alone but not when im with my family. now, with iaine, i drive even slower). we had not gone far from the house when a wackadoo on wheels suddenly shot out from the other side of the road and tried to take my space on the lane, nearly crashing into us. thank goodness i had taken my presence-of-mind pills that day and was able to quickly swerve away with enough inches to prevent the biked bastard for causing any damage. as i told jeean later that day, i'd have shrugged it off if i was alone (or scare the motorcycled maniac off the road by "pretending" to run him over). but in that instant, all i could think of was iaine. if i had reacted a teensy bit later or the revo had been a couple of notches faster, the motorcycle would surely have smashed on my side and we probably would have been sent crashing onto something or someone on the right side of the road. jeean and i could survive that unscathed. but a two-month old baby? i dont think so.

anyways, as i fought for control of the vehicle, the motorcycled monster did as well and slowed down behind us. i stopped in the middle of the highway and waited for him to pass. he stopped on jeean's side and the asshole had the audacity to tell me that i should have been looking where i was going. of course, i gave an expletive-ridden reply of a madman. he should have been looking where he was going because the lane was mine and he was the one attempting to take it. any person with a brain would wait until both lanes are clear before entering the lane on the other side. there wasnt even a way for me to know that he was coming onto the highway. he just popped out from nowhere. i was brimming with anger for this imbecile and literally in the process of destroying my vocal chord and having an aneurysm (also, creating a mile-long car queue). i was on the verge of getting out of the revo and introducing the douchebag to my fists when he finally asked for forgiveness, which was the first thing he should have said. he was at fault and no form of logic, law or common sense would say otherwise. he backed off and muttered about going home or something. i sincerely hope that he has taken the time to meditate about his actions and then shoot himself in the head. i really do.

so, to cap things off, fuck motorcycle morons and any kind of arrogant moron for that matter. just because you know how to do something, it does not mean you're good at it. if you dont value your life (the two idiots weren't wearing helmets btw), we value ours so fuck off and die already.

p.s. to contrast, there's a lot of things to hate in this world and everything to love about my daughter.
p.p.s. my dad used to bike around and he is very good at it. he also did motocross, so yeah, these shitheads will eat his dust.
p.p.p.s. my apologies for the fucking language.

flickstack: 82nd oscars! place yer bets!

2010-03-07T11:36:00.006+08:00

dont know about you but im a cineaste by heart and the academy awards is the only awards show i give a damn about. so, to anyone else who gives a damn, the nominees are...

best editing: stephen rivkin, john refoua, james cameron (avatar), julian clarke (district 9), bob murawski and chris innis (the hurt locker), sally menke (inglourious basterds), joe klotz (precious)
my pick: sally menke. she's the only editor that quentin tarantino has trusted with his films and anyone who has seen a tarantino film knows how well they are cut and spliced together, albeit non-linear.

best visual effects: joe letteri, stephen rosenbaum, richard baneham and andrew r. jones (avatar), dan kaufman, peter muyzers, robert habros and matt aitken (district 9), roger guyett, russell earl, paul kavanagh and burt dalton (star trek)
my pick: avatar dudes. no one can deny the fact that avatar is the breakthrough in this field.

best cinematography: mauro fiore (avatar), bruno delbonnel (harry potter and the half-blood prince), barry ackroyd (the hurt locker), robert richardson (inglourious basterds), christian berger (the white ribbon)
my pick: the hurt locker dude. war movie about bombs - shaky cam shit = awesome. the sniper scene is my favorite.

best animated short film: french roast, granny o'grimm's sleeping beauty, the lady and the reaper, logorama, a matter of loaf and death
my pick: the lady and the reaper. if not for the great animation, then for cerberus.

best original score: james horner (avatar), alexandre desplat (fantastic mr. fox), marco beltrami and buck sanders (the hurt locker), hans zimmer (sherlock holmes), michael giacchino (up)
my pick: michael giacchino. his is the only tune i can hum without a thought.

best adapted screenplay: neill blomkamp and terri tatchell (district 9), nick hornby (an education), jesse armstrong, simon blackwell, armando iannucci, tony roche (in the loop), geoffrey fletcher (precious), jason reitman, sheldon turner (up in the air)
my pick: in the loop. but i believe either district 9 or an education will win. i chose in the loop solely for the amazing badass lines.

best original screenplay: mark boal (the hurt locker), quentin tarantino (inglourious basterds), alessandro camon and oren moverman (the messenger), joel coen and ethan coen (a serious man), peter docter, bob peterson, tom mccarthy (up)
my pick: quentin tarantino. since james cameron will surely win best director, quentin oughta get this one. although a serious man and up are tough contenders.

best animated feature film: coraline, fantastic mr. fox, the princess and the frog, the secret of kells, up
my pick: up. would be surprised but glad if either fantastic mr. fox or the secret of kells wins.

best supporting actress: penelope cruz (nine), vera farmiga (up in the air), maggie gyllenhaal (crazy heart), anna kendrick (up in the air), mo'nique (precious)
my pick: anna kendrick. vera farmiga didnt do no nothing in up in the air. the fast-talking debater from rocket science deserves this more.

best supporting actor: matt damon (invictus), woody harrelson (the messenger), christopher plummer (the last station), stanley tucci (the lovely bones), christoph waltz (inglourious basterds)
my pick: christoph waltz. hans landa. nuff said.

best actress: sandra bullock (the blind side), helen mirren (the last station), carey mulligan (an education), gabourey sidibe (precious), meryl streep (julie & julia)
my pick: carey mulligan. meryl streep or helen mirren might get it because they're old but sandra bullock?! come on...

best actor: jeff bridges (crazy heart), george clooney (up in the air), colin firth (a single man), morgan freeman (invictus), jeremy renner (the hurt locker)

my pick: sam rockwell. yes i know he's not a nominee but i say he's been robbed. if you've seen moon, you know he's way better than george clooney. but if my life depended on picking one from the list, jeremy renner.

best director: kathryn bigelow (the hurt locker), james cameron (avatar), lee daniels (precious), jason reitman (up in the air), quentin tarantino (inglourious basterds)
my pick: quentin tarantino. even though we all know james cameron would win. wouldnt be surprised if his ex, kathryn, won. still, my money's on tarantino all the way.

best picture: avatar, the blind side, district 9, an education, the hurt locker, inglourious basterds, precious, a serious man, up, up in the air
my pick: inglourious basterds. moon should have at least been nominated. avatar is the strongest contender here but i have a feeling the hurt locker might win. however, inglourious basterds should win because avatar is a great spectacle but sucks as a movie overall. in inglourious basterds, hitler dies in a shower of bullets. so there.

p.s. they should get conan o'brien as next year's host.

p.p.s. i cant wait to watch movies with iaine.

timestamp: a stellar birth on prime-earth

2010-03-06T13:48:00.003+08:00

what: most. kickass. childbirth. ever.

where: st. patrick's hospital + palacio de lanting
when: february 5-8 2010
who: jaiskizzy (big daddy), jeeanfoxy (beautiful mommy), the world's greatest parents, parents-in-law, relatives and friends, the super doctor team hyperforce, single-serving nurses
why: cuteness equilibrium

day1/friday/february5: the new equation
400pm: it has been decided that jeean shall undergo cesarean section delivery the following day so all the bags of necessities that were starting to accumulate dust in the living room are finally loaded for transport. my mom, our househelp and i take the pregnant goddess to the hospital for mortals.
500pm: after squeezing the car to the tightest parking spot i have ever encountered, i carry our stuff (looking like a guy on a 1-year vacation all by himself) and head straight to 221, the room reserved for us, where i spend an awkward moment of silence and stares with two maintenance dudes. and then i receive the 5-second late text message that jeean and her mother-in-law are in the admitting office. anyways, i dont hate paperwork, paperwork hates me and i am very thankful that i have a wife to handle the sheetflow with her excellent penwomanship. glad i dont have to struggle with providing the requested information in hieroglyphics.
600pm: we hold fort in 221 and chill, literally because the air-conditioner seems like it was manufactured by eskimos. i am appointed legman and my first errand is to buy dinner: the infamous pulang pansit. (i accompanied the local pasta with some grilled pork, chicken and hotdog and proudly but silently beat the vendor's calculator in purchase computation). mom-in-law, my dad and sibs shortly arrive with their comestible contributions.
1000pm: my co-producer and i have the room to ourselves. the tv's on as background score to our conversation in dim. the sandman is out on a break, allowing us to talk about our daughter-to-be, how our relationship's tumultuous beginning segued into an awesome knot-tying and is now a page away from a new chapter entitled parenthood. finally, after nine months of pain and pee, clinic and food trips, kicks and hiccups, tears and cheers, and waiting and wailing, our wonderchild, our cherubic aesthete, our little cuddler, the amalgam of the best of our dna is about to exit the void and bombard our lives with immeasurable brighthappycuteawesomeness.
1100pm: the enceinte enchantress is asleep. her mondobizarro monsterhero is wide awake, lost in reverie. soon, his palpebrae superior and inferior reunite for the time being...

day2/saturday/february6: do babies dream of electric lambs?
600am: i am bathing diagonally in the narrow shower space. the plumbers must be eskimos as well because the water is goosebumpin' cold. cleansed, i put on my pink big daddy shirt (because im into that kind of shit, so what). after enjoying her warm water wash, jeean is dextrosed up by a nurse who is pregnant as well.
700am: the world's prettiest pregnant person is on a wheelchair. she is smiling but there is an apparent and understandable trepidation on her face. our mothers join the hallway parade toward the operating room. i remember many hospital scenes in movies where the gurney is pushed into the double doors and as they close, the leads have enough slow-mo time moment to stare at each other and wish for an oscar award. unless it's one where the significant other gets to be at patient's side but as much as i want to be with her the whole time like that, spousal support is prohibited inside. a while later, i return to the operating room entrance to give our digital camera to my sister who is a doctor and has a backstage pass.
730am: my psp reads game over for the nth time as i cant concentrate enough to advance through the game. i am number-twoing by the way, big time. it's as if all the excitement, worry and bonheur had been blendered together and turned into unstoppable poop. i then hear my doctorsister enter and bring the good news. my mom and mom-in-law race each other to see their first granddaughter while the baby's father struggles through his excremental ordeal. once done, he who sometimes enjoys referring to himself in the third person cleans himself up in haste.
800am: minitears fight for freedom but i impede their escape. flanked by two happy women on the verge of tears themselves, i am looking at a beautiful sleeping baby girl with full red lips and chubby cheeks wrapped in cloth. she is iaine sivela feona and she is my daughter and i am the happiest newfather that ever breathed. imagine all the books you want to read, all the dvds you want to watch, all the chocolate you want to eat, everything that can make you glad to be alive, imagine all are yours for free, for the rest of your life, that feeling is probably just half an atom of how it feels to see your child for the first time. i am speechless (as i am now, typing this) for the word that can exactly define the feeling has yet to exist. the only coherent thing to come out of my mouth was "hello, iaine."
830am: iaine's nascent pictures are already reaping comments on facebook. i am walking to the drugstore to buy our baby's milk. the minitears that demanded release? out they go, now that i am alone.
1100am: newmom returns to 221 half-conscious, in pain. she stays in rest mode as congratulators start coming in batches. each batch goes to the nursery to take a peep at iaine and i always tag along just to see her again. most of the time, the little cuddler is asleep but there are a few times she's crying in high pitch, displaying her singing prowess which she inherited from her mother. these visits sans physical contact are nice but not enough. i want to hold iaine real bad. jeean soon regains consciousness but she is not allowed to eat solids until she has passed gas. whenever everyone's eating, i don't so that jeean doesn't feel left out.
100pm: in a hole on the ground near our house, i put books, papers, pens and one of my drumsticks together with iaine's placenta as told by the elder believers. no harm in obliging.

day3/sunday/february7: this too shall pass
1200pm: with the catheter off, i escort my co-creator to the bathroom to take a leak. this is the part of motherhood i never had any idea of. i thought that after the nine-month challenge and the delivery drama, she'd be pirouetting by now. instead, it's a painful piss. she holds on to me and i wish i was the one in pain instead. a couple more trips to the toilet seat and her urinal anguish subsides to tolerable state.
200pm: jeean is recovering real quick. she can walk with minimal assistance. she's on a soft food diet, getting tired of the flavorless porridge. still no fart. (i cant believe i am actually waiting for my wife to fart). the continuous flow of visitors help hasten her recuperation. some flatulence and feces later, the goddess of all things cute and sexy is munching on mangoes.
900pm: our ob-gyne/wedding sponsor drops by to change jeean's gauze dressing and throw some great news: we can go home the next day. the bikini cut looks fine, nigh-invisible if not for the small stitches on the sides.

day4/monday/february8: homeward-bound
900am: the stuff we came in with has doubled and i am getting myself a tan and workout carrying all of it to the family car parked two blocks away. we're just waiting for the starter gun to fire so we can go and live our new life as a family of three independent of hospital control.
1000am: my optical floodgates open wide at the sight of iaine on the bed in front of me with no glass window between us. i used to dread this moment because movie scenes of a child being born kind make me tear up a bit and i was pretty sure that when i experience that moment it would be like all my nose hairs have been pulled out for everyone to see. but now i dont mind the onlookers seeing this hardened meat of a man rendered tender by his dreamy, dreaming daughter. let's go home, sweetheart.
1100am: my sisdoc and i are stuck in motionless car queue. we had taken a shortcut to steer clear of the regular midday traffic jam but thanks to the arrival of president darkmole evildwarf, we stumble upon roadblock after roadblock until we're back to square one of the route we've previously avoided. jeean and iaine are in separate vehicle, several gearshifts behind.
1200pm: home, sweetheart, home...

p.s. happy one-month, iaine...

advent child

2010-01-30T22:17:00.008+08:00

nine months ago, my muse and i made love. but that day was unlike the others. it was beyond the sensual enlacement of soul and body. we did not just become one. we achieved the perfect catalyst spark of our bond to ignite the biological flame. that day, my muse and i made love and created life.

any moment now, that love we have made will be born. and it is with immense delight for us that our little cuddler will lead this (r)evolutionary existence as a girl. to be honest, i wanted a son. actually we all wished for a boy. for months, our daughter kept her privates concealed and her parents perplexed. around that time, the gender didnt matter to us anymore. all we wanted then was for the baby to be healthy and when her femininity was finally revealed, we didnt have an ounce of disappointment. that confirmation put my imagination on full throttle. i saw myself reading poetry to her, combing her hair while she plays chopin on the piano, watching horror movies with her and running on a beach shore with her. jeean and i even spent a whole night perfecting the name we want for her. our tigress's name, which sounds uniquely sweet (or sweetly unique), shall be unveiled on the day of her emergence.

i dont want to divulge the minutiae of our planned parenting procedures but one thing weve sworn not to do is persuade her into a career she does not want. we will do our very best to guide her to a happy but proper way of life, making sure she does not grow up into a makeup-dependent social-climbing bimbo prancing around and talking like a two-bit cyprian. but alas i am getting too far ahead of myself. pardon this impatient parent for craving his cherubic aesthete's expeditious liberty from her uterine sanctuary.

i may use big words now but none of them will suffice to define exactly how happy and proud i am to be the father of this baby. i know that this odyssey isn't just smiles and tickles and baby unicorns galloping on rainbows, but im not one bit afraid. they way i see it, fatherhood is like leveling up as a man, the same with hitting puberty, having a job and getting married, and such furtherance presents new challenges to overcome (birthday boss battle) and new skills to be learned (+1 diaper dexterity). and there'll be no game overs for me in this epic two-player adventure until the day i die.

anyways, whenever she chooses to come out, may our daughter have a safe journey, both for her and her mother, from dimension womb to her vast, new, playground world where boundless love awaits her.

the sky is blue

2010-01-18T17:41:00.006+08:00

most bloggers would start the year by posting something positive, usually about putting the mistakes of 2009 behind and looking forward to a happy 2010. most bloggers. but not me. sure, i'll be a father real soon and there's no better year-opener than having a baby daughter. i'll do that when she's out. so, in the meantine, let's do a recap of some recent f-word-appropriate events.

i used to watch the tonight show with jay leno, especially the part where he shows hilarious newspaper clippings, which, in retrospect, seems to be the only funny thing about that show. but i enjoyed late night with conan o'brien more (even before it blipped into mainstream audience radar) especially with the occasional appearances of triumph, the masturbating bear and the vomiting kermit. the very first episode of late night i saw was the one where famke janssesn demonstrated her goldeneye character's trademark leg squeeze. anyways, so jay leno passed the tonight show torch to conan last year but then, in a dazzling display of douchebaggery, the big-chinned bastard took it back, forcing conan to a later timeslot. conan, of course, wont take that crap and has decided to leave nbc. still no word on where coco will go but i've got two words for nbc and jay leno: fuck you.

traffic jams and idiot drivers test my boiling point, too, but the heat never leaves the car, except for the angry honking. this jason ivler guy, however, blamed his lousy driving skills on the car ahead of him and traded three bullets for the poor guy's life. as expected of all testicle-deprived assholes, mr. ivler pussied out and disappeared like his balls. for months, the nbi searched every crook and nanny but the cocksniffer could not be found. some guy who didnt even look like him was detained and deported from qatar just because he shared a similar name. so, where's waldork? well, lo and behold, the turdlicker's been home all along, in a secret basement room, abetted by his mother, who had previously made endearing public statements asking her son to surrender and told the police who had made several visits to their house that her bitch-ass son was not there. im all for loving your children, but supporting your child's murder capabilities is stupid parenting. so, fuck you, jason ivler and your mom.

oh, and in relation to the preceding post, fuck you, mmff.

the mtrcb has done it again. and by that, i mean, proving that they are a bunch of morons. there is a reason why films are classified according to content. g for kid-safe movies, pg for movies that need parental attention, and r for adults-only movies. so, i dont understand why there is a need for r-rated movies to have some scenes cut out in the worst possible way before they are shown in theaters. but the real point of this paragraph is the showtime issue which, no matter how they say it isn't, smells fishy. a male host from the rival network of rip-offs has been saying way more insulting remarks and i havent heard him suspended for a day. one showtime guest proclaims an offensive but valid argument and the whole show is order off the air, despite the self-regulatory move of kicking that guest out? the rival network's talk show in the same timeslot has been axed, by the way, due to irremediable ratings. so, yeah, there has got to be cash involved there somewhere. but even if there was not, fuck you, mtrcb and fuck you gma7.

normally this space gets a short closing paragraph of its own. but... that's it for now.

flickstack: the 13 best films of 2009

2009-12-23T12:10:00.006+08:00

hey, it's christmas again! 'tis the season for receiving gifts that are rarely the ones you wished for, taking money from your godparents and having your money taken by your godchildren, and getting pestered by bad, divide-and-conquer carolers. sure, there's the usual partying, eating, churchgoing but if there's one thing i hate about christmas in this country, it's the goddarn metro manila film festival. not only do they have the same kind of crap from last year, they force those pieces of shit movies into everyone's faces by having all the theaters show only those pieces of shit. thanks to more mano po, more shake rattle n roll and more hollywood-quality-my-ass eyesores from vic sotto and bong revilla, i will have to wait next year to see sherlock holmes. assholes.

anyways, before i rant any longer, here's my list of the best films i watched this year. and because it's my list, there are thirteen movies, the first 12 in no particular order and the 13th tops them off. so it's kinda like just a top 2 list. but with 13 items. because i like the number thirteen. i know i have already said that but this sentence has thirteen words.

1. up - with that title and having an old man as the main protagonist, you'd have thought it was movie about erectile dysfunction. but thankfully it wass by pixar so it turned out to be a really great kids-and-adults movie. with talking dogs and a "swordfight" between two old men. hmm.

2. watchmen - it wasnt perfect but it was an awesome comic book movie. tdk went the realistic, dark route. watchmen went comic-book-that-moves route. i enjoyed it. anyways, i know you dont want to but you can read my review of this film here. persuasive psychology works sometimes.

3. coraline - freaky stop-motion movie. button-eyed people, circus mice, better parent dilemma. im gonna let my daughter watch this when she old enough. like two years old maybe.

4. 500 days of summer - this movie was the kind of boy-meets-girl love story movie that we need more of, instead of the ones where the couple falls apart and one of them wins the other back with something cheesy.

5. thirst - fuck new moon. while those twilight fags were sparkling and flexing, sang-hyeon, a priest, was sucking blood from a comatose patient through an iv tube. this is the vampire film of the year.

6. zombieland - and this one is the zombie fillm of the year. bill murray rules.

7. moon - this movie is about a guy who is alone in the moon for three years. there's more to that but it would spoil the movie. i liked it a lot and i dont know what else to say...oh yeah, fuck new moon.

8. sin nombre - intense spanish film on gangs and poverty. the gang leader with tattoos on his face had a baby along while the new recruit killed a member of the rival gang as initiation. im grateful im not the father taking his daughter to america by riding on train roofs.

9. district 9 - im pretty sure that unlike this amazing movie, if aliens came to this country, the darn government wouldnt know what to do. the armed forces would be probably ordered to shoot the visitors on sight, no questions asked.

10. black dynamite - michael jai white, the guy who played spawn, has the same second name as my first name. didnt know that besides kicking ass, he could also do comedy. he owned this really funny blaxploitation movie.

11. grotesque - gross and painful to watch, just the way i like it. but beyond the blood, the dismembering of body parts and the cringeworthy gore, there's the message of self-sacrifice and how much you'd put yourself through for a person you like but barely know.

12. avatar - jeean and i saw this in a regular theater and it was great. im pretty sure imax would have tripled the awesomeness of james cameron's pandora. it's like eyecandy that is good for you, minus the sugar. review

and best film of 2009 according to me is... (long heavy metal drum roll please)

13. inglourious basterds - i like war movies and i worship quentin tarantino. inglourious basterds is unlike any war movie ever made. this film was first-frame-to-last badass amazing. long, talky, tension-building scenes, the hans landa character, hitler showered with bullets, everything was remarkable. which is expected of every quentin tarantino film, like his foot fetish. i didnt even try to make a review because id probably get to 10 thick paragraphs and still havent conveyed enough of my thoughts. and for any fellow quentin tarantino fans out there, i ask you: have you ever shaken his hand? i have.

be kind, remind

2009-12-08T18:15:00.006+08:00

high school reunion's coming up and ive been ~~forced~~ asked to do the audiovisual presentation. i havent started on the actual slideshow of pictures yet due to image inadequacy but the intros, effects, music and transitions have all been dealt with. these elements i continue to tinker with every now and then as i wait for new digitized memories to arrive and all the cuttings and renderings have made me miss my video editing days.

and during a bathroom break, i looked back on those days and remembered the very first time i performed video editing. it happened long before i knew what final cut and adobe premiere were. all i had back then were a video8 camera, a tv, a vhs recorder, a cassette player and creative persistence (or persistent creativity?). cue flashback fx for 10 years ago...

it was for a class report in informatics. i didnt want to do the usual talking in front of the class. it was good to have luigi in the group because he understood and supported my ideas every time. luigi and i shot most of our scenes unscripted, except for the part where we had to read the textbook. when we had all the footage we wanted, luigi and i went downtown to find a place to have our video report edited. we found none. the report was to be presented the next day. i told my friend i'd take care of everything and we went our separate ways home.

with no previous experience in video editing, i attempted to do the whole thing on my own. i made title cards by drawing on bond papers and taping them on the wall. i recorded the footage from the video camera to the vhs, cutting them together by pausing, rewinding and playing the video. on sequences where a music track was needed, i pulled the audio rca plug off the camera and jacked it into the cassette player where a tape played. it was a painstaking task for one man to do and my numerous tries caused by errors resulted into some bad recording. those, i considered as effects. the closing credits i created by typing in microsoft word and shooting the monitor.

the following day, i carried the loaded vhs player to school and luigi brought a tv. we presented the report to our class's amusement. even students from the other classes watched and enjoyed. the end.

now where could that tape be...?

a tragic mix of magic tricks

2009-10-12T19:13:00.001+08:00

wow. i have wanted to use that title for so long a time. anyways, magic has been a form of societal entertainment for eons. im pretty sure jesus, with his walking-on-water and multiplying bread acts, was an illusionist himself. but from those days up to houdini's time, it didnt take much to fool the audience. pull a rabbit out of a hat or make a handkerchief vanish and bricks will be shat around you. nowadays, any self-respecting magician who attempts those tricks, even on kids, has got to be a fuckin moron.

"...and voila! my left testicle."

thanks to the masked magician, the veil has been lifted from our eyes and we now know how a lot of those magic tricks were done. i dont know about you, but i really never needed him to reveal those secrets. as a kid, magic amazed me but i knew deep within myself that it's all a well-orchestrated illusion. what sets davids copperfield and blaine from the rest is execution. you can bet your asscheeks that the tricks they do are humanly impossible, but they do it so exceptionally awesome that a part of you suspends disbelief and may just accept it is real because that itsy bitsy part of you could not deduce how that exceptionally awesome illusion was done.

i saw on tv "comedian-turned-magician" bearwin meily as he prepared to perform a classic: the water escape. because of this endeavor, the media has dubbed him the pinoy houdini. i have nothing against him, i actually kept an open mind, but i knew it was bullshit and his poor execution proved it was bullshit. couldnt find a video on youtube so here's an unbiased account of the proceedings: bearwin presented the water-filled tank, which will be shrouded by curtains on all sides. audience members were asked to check the tank. he then showed the tank lid, knocking on the steel plates and said they were real. a cop gave him cuffs which put on himself and then he was restrained with chains and two padlocks. he entered the tank, the lid was placed on top and locked. as he began to hold his breath and try to struggle free, the front curtain is closed to hide what was going on. matching the beat of the background music, the curtain was raised a couple more times, for a few seconds, to show the progress of his escape until the digital clock on-screen was past the amount of time an average human could hold their breath. bearwin, of course, escapes unharmed and me, unimpressed.

i assume that this is how it was done: usually, anyone asked by a magician to check equipment is part of the act. but the tank seemed real so it would be safe to say that the checkers weren't paid. the lid, however, is immediately questionable. two of his crew held it and only he touched it. plus, it was a large, square piece of flat steel with a steel frame and, suspiciously, two parallel steel bars in the middle. why not an x or no horizontal bars at all? because the middle plate between those steel bars slides open, enough for bearwin to poke his out and breathe while the curtains are down. this water escape wasnt as dangerous as he claims it to be. kudos to him though for acting serious. anyways, the second bogus aspect of his act was chain. the handcuffs were rigged ones of course, unlocked at a button-push. the chains were real but he wore it in such a way that anybody could escape easily from it. all he had to do was puff up his chest and tense his arm and shoulder muscles while the chains were placed around him to make it look like it's really tight around him. once in the water, all he had to do was relax his body and the chains would slip free. (try it at home. puff up your chest and tense your upper body and have someone tie a string around you. then relax and you're out). the stupid thing about the chain was on one occasion that the curtains were pulled up, his arms were free and there was only one padlock remaining, making the chain a loose necklace and the padlock, the pendant. and yet, bearwin was still pretending to be having a hard time with it even though it was pretty obvious that all he had to do was pull the chain over his head. that was really fucking stupid.

so, yeah, what was hailed as a houdini-ish feat by a filipino, the first one on tv, was actually nothing but a big pile of bullcrap. what a shame. i mean, even when he had that little weekly magic show, it was very underwhelming because there was nothing new and exciting to see and i merely watched a few episodes of it just to see which tricks they've ripped off from others. and that's the thing with magic these days. so many are doing the same things that it's not really entertaining anymore. so, at this important juncture (tee-hee), i present to you some tips for magician on how to improve their acts:

do the trick in your underwear. no long=sleeved shirts, loose black pants, jackets, capes, hats or any item of clothing that are usually used to hide shit. i would have suggested doing the whole thing completely naked but that would be disgusting.

do the trick with minimal cover. every time anything cannot be seen, something is going on so do away with the large cloths, smoke bombs and the like. turn that little kitten into a tiger right before our eyes. walk through that wall unconcealed. make that car fade away in plain sight.

do the trick in broad daylight, on a clear field. no stages, no curtains, no special equipment. just you and your trick, before a real audience.

do the trick without volunteers who you obviously paid (or threatened) to pretend that they're not part of the act. this is easy in relation to doing the trick with minimal cover. you dont need people to hold hands together around you and such. just stand there and do everything yourself. if help is needed to do the trick, dont do the trick. do a trick that doesnt involve anybody else.

do the trick live but not with your own crew. no pre-recorded tv specials. call up every network and make the trick a news event. let the different camera crews shoot where and how they want. plus, no suspense countdowns or commercial breaks. when everyone's there, just say what you're going to do and immediately do it.

do the trick without props prepared beforehand. no pre-shuffled cards or gimmicked boxes. anything you need to use for the trick, you take from where you are. in fact, it would be loads better if no props would be used at all.

finally, just do the damn trick. no long stories, no jokes, no big gestures, no dancing.

"for your next training, apprentice, you will guess what i had for breakfast

by smelling my palm which i had just farted on..."

here is an example of a magical feat in accordance with the rules i have mentioned:

in broad daylight, the magician is standing half-naked in an empty lot, surrounded by a crowd of people and some news crews. the magician then announces what he will do: he will crack open his skull, take out his brain, eat it and shit it whole. then, he lies down on the ground and smashes his head with a big rock until the top part of his skull is shattered. he stands up and pulls out his brain. he breaks off a piece and eats it. he keeps doing this until he has eaten all of his brain. he then takes off his underwear, squats and shits out a whole brain. he puts it back in his head, takes the pieces of his skull and rebuilds it like a jigsaw puzzle. as a final flourish, he picks his nose and flicks a booger into the air and it turns into a dragon which he rides on to leave. applause.

all or nothing

2009-10-01T16:03:00.007+08:00

on my previous post i said that my wife's beauty was kind of a visual confirmation of a supreme being's handiwork, thereby putting a bit of strain on my lack of belief. that was a thoroughly honest statement. then, ondoy came along (on the day of my birthday even) and re-fueled my predisposition for questions.

we all know what happened. saturday and it kept raining and raining real hard with mighty winds until late in the afternoon, we are watching the news where a man is neck-deep in the flood and still protecting himself with an umbrella. suddenly, dams are spilling, there are brown rivers where there shouldn't be and people are on the roofs of their houses. a disaster beyond expectations. and the more i saw of the effects of ondoy's wrath, the more blasphemy entered my mind. but the core of all my questions was: god did this.

all religious people attribute anything good to god. they win something, thank you, god. they get well from illness, thank you, god. but whenever something bad happens, it's usually one of three things: a) god is punishing them; b) god is testing them; c) god had nothing to do with it. so which of the three does ondoy fall into?

a) god sent ondoy to punish the people in the affected areas - if this is true, then god is pretty mean. he didnt leave room for forgiveness. he just went on and slapped his big holy hand across the faces of these poor people. which is a wrong thing for a god to do, especially for one who has forgiveness 101 in their curriculum. is this some sort of punish first, forgive later? if so, then what about the "be like god" thing? guy x murders guy w, guy w's family should then kill guy x and say "okay, dude. we forgive you now." the equation does not compute. plus, i don't think that all of the people who suffered were complete sinners. innocent kids drowned. what did god punish them for? not eating vegetables? if ondoy was god's consequence for not adhering to his strict guidlines, then he shouldve sent that darn typhoon over to the malacanang palace as well.

b) god sent ondoy to test the faith of the people in the affected areas and the kindness of the people in the unaffected areas - you always hear people saying things happen for a reason, and it's usually a test from god. again, the innocent children, what was the test for? if they could swim? a pregnant woman died in a landslide. he was testing how long she could hold her breath? if it was a test of faith, then it's a pretty dumb test because there is no way you can have coherent thoughts, let alone pray, when your lungs are filling up with water faster than you could complete the sign of the cross. i know tests shouldnt be easy. but they dont have to be matter-of-life-and-death hard.

c) god did not send ondoy - a friend of mine insists that the whole thing was man-caused. the flooding, yeah, maybe, but without the nonstop rain, there will be no flood. weren't we all made (forced) to believe that god created everything? everything, including weather. but let us just say that ondoy wasnt from god. then where did ondoy come from? science explains the whole deal, of course, and just about anything there is to be explained. so, if ondoy was not godsent, god does not exist. if the tragedy was all our fault, every single thing that ever happened, good and bad, we all did to ourselves. there's no bullshit there. if god does exist, sure he lets you get the good stuff sometimes but then he was also behind every fuck-up you've experienced in your life. it's either god gave you that sports car and also killed your parents, or you worked hard to buy the car and cancer killed your parents.

i wouldnt know if any of the unfortunate readers of this blog and this particular post would get what im trying to say. im not here to preach. im merely asking questions and laying arguments based on the facts. i just cant agree to the thinking that if it's a miracle, god did it but if it's a disaster, he didnt do it, or if he did do, it's because he wanted to punish you or test you. and that's what's so annoying about religion. anything that supports their beliefs, they accept without question but anything that threatens, they blind themselves from reality, and yet they're always the very first and the very worst at denying other people's beliefs and forcing theirs upon them.

if you believe in god, you should not go to hospitals, you shouldnt lock your doors, you should cross the street with eyes closed, you shouldnt need money because, as the big neon sign in guadalupe proclaims (not sure if it's still there), jesus/god alone saves. sheesh.

so... let the reactions begin!

one

2009-09-17T01:15:00.003+08:00

what: most. kickass. wedding. ever.
where: basilica church + pastoral center, ciudad de balisong
when: august 1, 2009
who: jaiskizzy (the groom), jeeanfoxy (the bride), families, friends, unknowns
why: love.

800am: i wake up, put on outdoor clothes and sleepwalk to the nearest salon to have my much-anticipated (by everyone but me) haircut. it is still closed so i saunter off next door to my mother-side relatives' hangout spot and play with the kids for a while.
900am: i am inside the salon, sitting on a hydraulic chair, waiting for my turn. arianne the hairdresser is doing his magic (literally) on an old woman while some people are negotiating the price of his services and gown rental. some girl will be joining a beauty pageant in some faraway farmland's fiesta and her companions want her to look outrageously beautiful. i think what they need is a miracle. the girl is fat, fugly and bats are probably living in her nostrils. plus her supposed escort is a zombie. i silently thank the invisible unicorn king for the self-esteem boost.
1000am: my past-shoulder-length hair is being mowed down. with my spectacles off, the horrifying image of my decreasing mane is blurred on the mirror. but even so, i remember the big prom night scene in carrie and kinda feel the same way, minus the blood. at least samson was asleep when this happened to him.

1100am: i am back home, showering. bathroom floor is covered in bubbles because, forced by habit, i used the amount of shampoo i use for my late long hair on my new hair. as always, bathroom time is think time and several random thoughts fire up in my brain like popcorn: the tedious preparations are finally over, im leaving bachelorhood for good, cant wait to see what my bride looks like, what's gonna happen, et cetera.
1200pm: i am driving towards the ponte fino, wearing a hooded shirt to hide my haircut until the big reveal. jeean and i text and call each other occasionally to prevent any path-crossings. as i am about to turn right at don ramos, i realize i've forgotten the red bandana i need for our first dance. i head back home and find out that jeean's bridal car (c/o of papang) has arrived. we've been told it would be the cefiro, anything was okay with us actually, but im looking at the one we had wished for secretly. i retrieve the bandana and keep the surprise to myself.
100pm: i am at the hotel lobby, gradually attaining complete ennui. only one room is currently available and jeean is in there having herself made up. two more rooms will be vacant soon and i sulk in a lounge chair, watching a kid waste dslr specs on a bland table ornament. my friends from manila arrive but because i have no room to put them in and i am prohibited to leave the premises, i send them off to sm batangas to have lunch and murder a few minutes.
200pm: six men in a hotel room and it's not a stag party: me, pol, randell and a camera crew determined to get me posing. after late lunching on adobo, rice and jolly hotdog, the guy who has only one pair of shoes for everyday use metamorphoses into a long-suited, clean-shaven gentleman, at least externally; the photography session ends up with me jumping on the bed. the tailor-made suit set feels good on me not only because it's exactly the way i wanted it to be, it's like my golden fleece. i'm 11 times cooler just by wearing it.
300pm: it's raining and everybody's scrambling to the church. i jump into the family car and lose my chance of having any physical contact with the awesome bridal car. when we arrive at the church, a crowd of kids and adults in wedding attire is just beginning to bunch up near the entrance. people expecting my jesus christ look are shocked at my new guise and my favorite baby niece who cries when i leave doesn't even recognize me. i look at the aisle and see the first few meters of the new journey of my life.
400pm: i am at the other end of the aisle and all our eyes are on the entrance doors. this is my cad goddeu. from a badass-looking hummer, an angel has appeared to bless us with her heavenly beauty. ive been an agnostic ever since catholic school but this is one of those very rare moments were i question my non-belief and reconsider god's existence because only that powerful guy on the ultradistant second floor could create such a being of endless wonderment. gianina, my fulcrum, my utopia, my perfect bride. i feel weird, like im in a movie and this is the part where everything is in slow-mo. i am goosebumping all over. my mother-in-law-to-be's tears are contagious. my beloved and i stand before the altar and the riddle of love is finally solved.

500pm: there was a blog post i never finished about how life was a long road and that during our trip, we meet people who walk with us or run with us, sometimes carry us, overtake us, until we all arrive, though at different times, at the one destination we're all headed. jeean and i aren't ready to go home just yet. hands together, we've taken a detour to a road we've never been to before and even if we've been told that this particular path won't be easy to take, but im sure we'll get through it just fine. the i do's have been traded, the bands worn, the kiss displayed.

9 post-wedding highlights:
1. mafia-inspire entourage came into the reception venue in associative music. when it was our turn, my bride sang "if i ain't got you" by alicia keys. some had to be told that it was live.
2. instead of the bouquet, a bunch of roses were thrown at the "hopefuls" and the one without a flower in her hands was the lucky lady to wear the garter.
3. the much-awaited "rock baby rock" clan dance brought the house down, especially with my bride's parents joined in
4. the downed house was crumbled to dust when our supposedly traditional first dance turned into a dance medley of sorts (with a quick hayden-katrina thingy squeezed in), thanks to one hour of perspiration-filled practice of steps aided by youtube.
5. the photobooth didn't get any rest.
6. my father got us all worried when word broke out about his missing wallet, which he found in the pair of pants he left at home.
7. jeean and i came home to falling money and confetti, which became garnish to the kalamay we had to eat.
8. we counted the cash we collected and was quite pleased with the sum (but not thoroughly as we had to turn everything over to my mom for safekeeping).
9. there was a lot of back-and-forth walking in the ponte fino hallway because our immediate families were shacked in five rooms and everyone was in no hurry to slumber. after one tiresome month of preparations and one exciting day of wedding, my wife and i finally get the relaxation we've long longed for.

i could not have wished for a better way to get married or a better woman to get married to. i am a man, i am in love, and goshdarnit, i am very, very happy. very.

up next: parenthood.

better/worse-richer/poorer-sickness/health-death

2009-07-31T23:24:00.006+08:00

awakening

2009-07-06T18:58:00.004+08:00

every day when i wake up, in the morning or in the afternoon, by myself or roused by external forces, the voices in my head scream in unison in welcoming another day. no matter how bad the previous was, the mere ability to open my eyes and be alive is reason enough to thank the flying spaghetti monster for negotiating my citizenship with sandman and not allowing me to be a permanent resident of somnopolis. there, i could fly, see events unfold in the third person p.o.v. and play tag with nikola tesla in a minefield but i would never trade my real life for subconscious liberties. even more now that i have better things to look forward to post-slumber.

about a month from now, i will start a new life waking up beside the most beautiful woman in time and space. i met her online as jeeanfoxy and i couldnt have helped myself from loving her. since then she's been love to me and a new chapter in our epic love story is just about to begin. on august one, at 4pm, i will be marrying the last piece of my puzzle. the beautiful victory, the elegant ninja, the goddess of all things cute and sexy named ma. gianina sigrid m. muñoz will glide down the aisle and prefix forever with a two-worded, three-lettered sentence. she, my rita hayworth. my life was a prison beyond redemption and she was my escape. she is my charger, my phoenix down, my cosmic cube, my muse incarnate. i was wile e. coyote and she was roadrunner, i get blown into smithereens but she was always worth chasing. now i've captured her. but dont let the pig loose from the pen just yet because that is not all, folks.

sometime in february next year, i will wake up to the living breathing crying laughing smiling peeing pooping proof of our love: our baby, the first of many, the best parts of our dna combined. right now, our child is as small as a peanut, swimming within my wife's wonderful womb. but pretty soon, the kid will be running around and talking and breaking stuff and making us proud. one thing i could guarantee is that child will be loved by the coolest parents ever.

if there is indeed such a thing as karma, then this is probably some sort of reverse karma where i get my humongous load of blessings in advance and im supposed to do something good and big in the future because i dont think ive ever done anything worth all of this. that or i am just one goddarn lucky man...

yep. very lucky indeed.

p.s. theres just too plenty of people to thank for the ongoing preparatory craziness and they dont read my blog anyways so i'll save the acknowledgements for my reception speech where i could tell it to their faces. speaking of faces...

p.p.s. in yo' face, scotteeeeehhh!!!

david carradine

2009-06-05T14:11:00.003+08:00

you may know him as bill but i remember him best in death race 2000 passing through a hospital to rack up points by killing the old people plus the nurses and doctors that lined them up there. i've always wanted to have an f shirt like his.

r.i.p. frankenstein.

the villagers

2009-05-31T21:37:00.002+08:00

in the middle of nowhere and the edges of everywhere lies a village, much like any other village you've seen yet not quite. here, the sun never goes out, only dims a little, and changes color depending on the mood of the person who is looking at it. the village is built in such a way that all houses are facing each other and at the front door, anybody could see everybody. from outside, the houses differ in shape, size and color but within each one are the same kinds of rooms: for cooking and eating, for sitting and talking, for sleeping and fucking. no one has ever left since the day they came and lived here.

there is one house made of sticks and stones. in it lives an ogre who likes to sing girly songs. he has been practicing yoga so that he can self-fellate his microcock. he wears branded clothes even though they could never hide the fact that he is an ogre. nobody can tell the difference between the sound of his grunt and his fart.

there is one house made of stiletto heels that were glued together with the wax used to remove leg hair. it is called the house of smoke and mirrors because there is always smoke coming out of the chimney and all the walls inside are made of mirrors. in it lives a woman who, when not talking to herself, is always either puffing on a cigarette and sucking a cock or two. she thinks she is the most beautiful woman in the village, but of course, just like the name of her house, it is merely an illusion.

there is one house made of recycled paper. in it is a man who does not have anything that he did not steal from someone. this thief takes the other villagers' belongings and proclaims them as his own. but his favorite things to plunder are words and ideas, which he likes to combine and make senseless paragraphs in futile attempts to sound wise. with no money from his unpublished works of plagiarism, he survives by eating his own shit.

there is one house made of chocolate. in it lives a bunch of kids who play video games all day. they have every console and every game ever made. none of the kids come out for fear of growing up. the oldest of the kids is actually 240 years old and has played and finished all the games at least twice. he scores perfect in all levels of guitar hero on expert mode using his toes, eyes closed. he is the uncredited discoverer of the konami cheat code but he doesn't care.

there is one house that looks like a normal house but the doors and windows are not real, just painted on. in it is a hairless creature with sharp teeth and each day, it gives birth to a replica of itself, eats it and grows bigger...

there is one house made of diamonds and velvet. in it lives the woman whose voice can calm storms and bloom flowers. she is the true most beautiful woman in the village according to a survey conducted telepathically. whenever she smiles, a demon dies. she hosts a party every day and guests find her house by following the vapor trail of her heavenly perfume. she serves the most delicious food and the finest drinks and doesn't end the party until she has talked to everybody. she sleeps dreaming of her next party.

there is one house made of bones and painted with blood. in it lives a man with no face and a million brains. and yet, just like everybody else, he has one heart and it belongs to the most beautiful woman in the village. because he cannot speak, he only writes and the only things he writes are love letters and suicide notes.

(work in progress. the end for now.)

p.s. i didnt know what the point of this was either but i wrote it anyway.

happy first anniversary, last woman in my life.

2009-05-24T00:00:00.002+08:00

jeej,

try as i may, i can not surpass the awesomeness of your post. but what im thinking of right now is this: tomorrow would be a nice day for someone to ask me that question ive always hated being asked because i found it hard to answer until now.

the question: where do you see yourself 15 years from now?

my answer: with jeean, greeting her "happy 16th love anniversary!"

i love you, love. more often than always and longer than forever.

yours only,
jaj.

the spark never dies.

what color is your parachute?

2009-05-14T20:32:00.002+08:00

in other words (or in unnecessary philosophical musings based on a book title), if your life depended on a large piece of fabric designed to prevent your gravitational demise, would its color matter, especially if it fails to accomplish its singular task? hmmm. i think i need to rephrase that one with the help of beer. but anyways, i am currently not in a pursuit of happiness because happiness has been pursuing me and capturing me, and as of late, happiness is (but not limited to):

to pass time rolling your head on the clothesline,

to see babies show off their growing-up progress,

to disagree on something without arguing,

to peel price tag without ruining the book cover,

to find something you lost when you're not looking for it,

to watch a video you've seen over and over and still enjoy it,

to fart shamelessly,

to let the air mess up your hair,

to watch her sleep and learn that she watched you sleep,

to make her laugh by imitating chewbacca,

to drive with her head on my shoulder,

to go home with three books, a shirt and a heart full of love,

to be with gianina.

defib

2009-04-29T09:47:00.003+08:00

so... last week i resigned from work to get my life back on track. dont get me wrong, there was nothing bad about the job (except maybe for a certain coworker who keeps forgetting to take her antibitchiotics). it was the after hours that drove me crazy. i'd go to my rented room and pretty much stay there until the next day. there wasn't much to do within those green walls of infinite melancholy. in the words of pre-disaster britney, my loneliness was killing me. so many months of enduring the anguish, i packed my shit and went home.

so... here i am now, typing away without worrying about deadlines or overtime. since i left, ive spent just about every day with my beloved superheroin, hanging out, doing silly stuff, eating together, playing with kids, talking, driving around and, most of the time, laughing. every moment of every day, there's always something to laugh about or take a pic of. jeean is just a blast to be with. there is absolutely no one in this polluted floating sphere quite like her. ive never had this much fun with all of my ex-gfs combined. need proof? here:

i love that woman to death. which hopefully is far far away because i want to spend many, many more years with her. i cant wait to have kids with her. we got the chance to act as parents of three gradeschoolers today and learned new ways to achieve happiness. one of which is jump-roping on a trampoline.

p.s. lately ive been pondering about my apparent uselessness to the world. there are people whose jobs affect my well-being, like the farmers and slaughterers for my sustenance, sewers and inkers for my clothing, even the typists who typed the text on shampoo bottles. i owe a lot of my everyday life to them. i wish i had a job like that.
p.p.s. i am so tired today that my slouching is two snaps away from breaking the monobloc chair's backrest.

ego at large

2009-04-23T08:12:00.010+08:00

the public is hereby warned about a mental patient that escaped from the facility on an undetermined date. several police reports have been collected regarding a deranged female spotted in several locations, mostly around makati, with the following eye-witness descriptions: in mid-20s, 5'4" with high-heeled shoes, thick and overly lipsticked lips, nostrils bigger than the craters on the moon, long, not-regularly-shampooed hair with lice infestation and was last seen wearing something really, really horrible. the suspect, currently known as "excrementia" is extremely and dangerously annoying. we repeat, the suspect is extremely, dangerously annoying.

accurate police sketch of the suspect.
we apologize for your subsequent nightmares.

two witnesses, a couple madly in love with each other, encountered the suspect at an intersection in makati. according to their released statements, the suspect "walked like the ground was a runway and talked as if she was the queen of the world." the very beautiful and sexy female witness with an amazing rack and delectable legs, who chose to be hidden under the name "eatmybust", was a nurse and, upon listening to the suspect's verbal diarrhea, assumed that the suspect "was suffering, or more appropriately, reveling in grandiose delusion." the male witness with a big cock who chose to be hidden under the name "mrbigcock", agreed with his beloved companion and said, "i agree." according to the couple, they left the suspect "smoking a cigarette under the rain for fear that it multiplies when wet." the witnesses then went to sm mall of asia, watched monsters vs. aliens on imax and fell in love with each other even more.

a firm believer of the slut-til-death movement which it started itself, the suspect is presumed to have gained a cult following of idiots who have been lured to kiss its ass, due to the suspect's ability to suck brain cells out of people. if you have any information regarding the whereabouts of the suspect, please do not hesitate to keep it to yourself. it is also highly recommended for your safety that if suspect is on sight, do not approach for any reason. best course of action in the presence of the suspect is to ignore it.

p.s. whatever, layla. you're such a loser.

love. freedom. happiness.

2009-04-01T08:06:00.005+08:00

like most, for a big part of my life, i hated monday. granted that it is not its fault to be situated at such a bad spot but when you've been partying, sleeping late, waking up after noon, playing video games, watching movies or just wasting the day away being as lazy as you can, it's pretty hard not to feel animosity towards the particular day that thrusts you back to world beyond your own and starts a new cycle of work/school where time never really is yours. monday was the day i always wished would never come.

but not anymore.

i found love and found a reason to love monday. work begins on tuesday for me and right after my shift on saturday, i lug my bagful homeward, craving for the much needed weekend rest. instead of dreading its arrival, i can hardly wait for monday to come around because for some reason, it has become the day that my girlfriend and i have for ourselves. sometimes, we get to see each other on saturdays and sundays, but it is only on a monday when we really are together. we do not love each other less on any other day of the week, but on monday, we are one.

march 30, 2009 was a monday. at 4am i was sitting on an orange chair on the bus station, waiting for her, without any indication of the great day ahead of us. with barely enough sleep, i cradled her in my arms as she slumbered on and off through the trip. i did not notice what was playing on the bus tv or radio, only her shivers, goosebumps, slight body spasms and baby-calm breathing. every time she'd take over my lap for a nap, i'd feel the surrender of her weight the moment she succumbed to the sandman.

we found our destination but had to kill time so we ate and played scrabble. i am so in love with this woman who is okay with killing time by playing psp and not talking about stuff we could talk about some other time when we don't have to kill it. when she told her friends about us, she blushed and i swooned. the main purpose of the journey took a while and spent a long time between vans laughing at tambourines and farts. i love the way she perspires. the sweat doesn't bead or drip on her skin. it simply glistens. we were somewhere near quiapo and i had an image in my head of those people touching and wiping the nazareno as i did the same to her. i worship her. she wouldn't let me carry her bag no matter how i insist. i find it cute how she evades my cheek attacks. there is about two hours worth of chronicling that i have to skip so let's just say it feels so awesome to be her guy and that she cant go into the nbi office because smoking is not allowed there. we held hands when we walked and even when we ran to catch the bus.

late in the afternoon, i took her to my aunts and introduced her to everybody there. they talked to her. my mom had ignored the others even when they talked to her, but my mom talked to her. for the first time, my mother initiated a conversation with my girlfriend. wow⁹⁹. i lured an ill-tempered jaja with my psp to her and an inspiring memory was made. i never thought mondays could be that great. i may not be religious but that monday was a miracle. i wished it not to end and although it did, i know that with the recent developments in our lives, there are more, better mondays, as well as tuesdays, wednesdays, thursdays, fridays, saturdays and sundays to look forward to.

thank you, kitten.

p.s.

.02-peso legal advice

2009-03-12T08:15:00.006+08:00

i think that when an accused has been given the guilty verdict, their lawyer should suffer the same sentence. whether it's life imprisonment or death, throw the lawyer in with them. the idea is, if a lawyer defends an innocent client and loses the case, he should pay for his incompetence. if he/she defends a guilty client and loses the case, he should be punished for defending someone guilty. so, the guilt and innocence of the defendant is irrelevant. the lawyer oughta get what he deserves either way.

but that's just me.

p.s. my julietjellybeanbaby read this and pointed out that if this ever pushes through, no one would want to become lawyers anymore. actually, i think my concept should be seen as a challenge for the lawyers but for fairness sake, lawyers who win their cases should be rewarded with the luxurious possessions of the defeated, i.e. sports car, house, money, mistresses.
p.p.s. she loves me.

the last chat

2009-03-09T09:51:00.002+08:00

Yahweh! Messenger 7
waterwalker1225 - status message: let he who is not stoned cast the first sin.
Show Recent Messages (F3)
waterwalker1225: BUZZ!
waterwalker1225: hey bro. wassup?!
waterwalker1225: hello…
waterwalker1225: i know you’re there, judas. speak up, invisible man.
waterwalker1225: BUZZ!
waterwalker1225: BUZZ!
waterwalker1225: BUZZ!
waterwalker1225: oh, come on, bro. arent you gonna talk to me ever again?
iscariot.judas: fuck off, jesus.
waterwalker1225: there you are! what’s the haps, old friend, old buddy, old pal?
iscariot.judas: you do know that i am pissed off at you, dont you?
waterwalker1225: yeah, well. sorry about that, bro.
iscariot.judas: sorry my ass.
waterwalker1225: come on, jude-dude. it was just a little improv, you know, to make things more believable.
iscariot.judas: well, congratulations, asshole, nobody trusts me now. fuck.
waterwalker1225: i said i was sorry.
iscariot.judas: oh, fuck you. what’s your sorry gonna do now, huh? you’ve humiliated me beyond repair, man.
waterwalker1225: IM SORRY IM SORRY IM SORRY IM SORRY IM SORRY IM SORRYIM SORRY IM SORRY IM SORRY
iscariot.judas: just forget the whole thing, jc. im out.
waterwalker1225: no, no, please, dont do this, bro. we had a plan. i cant do it without you.
iscariot.judas: well, go find someone else to be your traitor. i cant do it, man. fuck, even the hookers dont trust me.
waterwalker1225: listen to me, bro. im really sorry for what i said during the last supper. im sorry if i’ve embarrassed you in front of our homies. but please understand that we gotta do this together. we’ve been planning this from day one. you cant just leave me like that. what about all the things i did for you? i’ve always been there for you!
iscariot.judas: …
waterwalker1225: im crying, judas.
iscariot.judas: wtf. get a hold of yourself, man. jesus.
waterwalker1225: yes?
iscariot.judas: what?
waterwalker1225: huh?
iscariot.judas: dammit. are you really crying?
waterwalker1225: yeah…
iscariot.judas: ok. dont cry. stop crying. i hate it when you cry. you know that shit is my weakness.
waterwalker1225: ok…
waterwalker1225: im really sorry.
iscariot.judas: i know. it’s just, i really didnt expect you’d do that, man. we never talked about anything like that.
waterwalker1225: im sorry. please forgive me. i’d do anything.
iscariot.judas: i forgive you, jc. you don’t have to do anything.
waterwalker1225: really?
iscariot.judas: really.
iscariot.judas: wait. on second thought, i sure need your help in getting some pussy, man. seriously, my balls fucking hurt.
waterwalker1225: lols.
iscariot.judas: could you like put a good word out on some of magdalene’s friends for me? sure could use a threesome before my appointment with those priests.
waterwalker1225: consider it done, bro. texting her right now.
iscariot.judas: thanks.
waterwalker1225: so, we’re ok now?
iscariot.judas: yep.
waterwalker1225: yay! thank you, bro. im so happy could kiss you.
iscariot.judas: you are such a fag, jc.
waterwalker1225: no. you are.
iscariot.judas: no. you are.
waterwalker1225: no. you are. remember the plan? you’re supposed to kiss me.
iscariot.judas: oh, yeah. shit. can’t i suggest to them that i’ll just pat your back or pinch your nose or something?
waterwalker1225: nope. you have to kiss me.
waterwalker1225: on the lips.
iscariot.judas: on the lips?! no way!
waterwalker1225: lols. gotcha. of course not. just on the cheek man. eww on the lips.
iscariot.judas: double eww.
iscariot.judas has signed out. (30AD)
waterwalker1225: oh.
iscariot.judas has signed back in.
waterwalker1225: wb.
iscariot.judas: sorry, man. got dc’ed.
iscariot.judas: this happens from time to time.
iscariot.judas: think it’s my isp? or the router?
waterwalker1225: could be a virus. you should do a scan.
iscariot.judas: yeah. thaddeus probably infected my system with his flash drive when he copied my porn the other day.
waterwalker1225: hey, maggie just replied. she said she’ll send two of her newest over.
iscariot.judas: awesome.
iscariot.judas: so, i probably should take a bath now ’cause them bitches’ll be here any minute.
waterwalker1225: no rush, bro. they’re just gonna walk. camels are in the pound. illegal parking.
iscariot.judas: hey, jc, one other thing. about the noose, are you sure it’s safe?
waterwalker1225: sure as manure, as long as you put the harness on properly.
iscariot.judas: right. how long should i stay there?
waterwalker1225: until someone sees you and runs away for help. then come down and head to rendezvous point. i’ll be there.
waterwalker1225: hmmm. what else…
waterwalker1225: shit. hold on.
waterwalker1225: gotta confirm the fake nails.
waterwalker1225: brb
iscariot.judas: ok.
waterwalker1225: back.
waterwalker1225: what about the cloth lady, what’s her name?
iscariot.judas: veronica.
waterwalker1225: yeah, her. she good to go?
iscariot.judas: aye.
waterwalker1225: great. i am so excited, jude-dude. this is going to be awesome!
iscariot.judas: easy for you to say. you’ll probably be remembered as a hero while i’ll go down in history as the bastard who betrayed you.
waterwalker1225: which is a very important role, bro. without your betrayal, i will not be arrested and crucified.
iscariot.judas: please. we both know that’s not how it’s gonna be. john and his fellow bloggers are gonna have a fuckin feast with their shit and everyone will see me as the villain.
waterwalker1225: you may be a villain to them, judas, but to me, you are the hero.
iscariot.judas: aawww. thanks, jc.
waterwalker1225: i love you, bro!
iscariot.judas: jc…
iscariot.judas: you
iscariot.judas: are
iscariot.judas: such
iscariot.judas: a
iscariot.judas: FAG.

short story: Machina Ex Deus

2009-02-28T13:59:00.003+08:00

It was a fine Wednesday morning and exactly three seconds after Barry Thodol sat down for breakfast and put his coffee mug on the smiley face coaster, the doorbell rang. The sound startled him for he could not even remember the last time he heard it. As silent as he could, he stood up and walked towards the front door. Before he could ask who it was, the doorbell rang again and Barry was almost knocked off his feet. He opened the door and saw two policemen standing there with their arms folded across their chests and wearing sunglasses.

With only his lips moving, the one on the left said: "Are you Barry Thodol?"

"Yes," Barry replied.

The one on the right suddenly held a sheet of paper in front of his face. "Did you write this short story?"

Barry looked at it. It was a printout of the short story he wrote and posted on an online community yesterday. He had given it the title Ampersands, which had absolutely nothing to do with the plot. The story was about a boy who had an irrational fear of beards and the invasion of humanoid aliens who have the longest beards in the universe. "Yes."

"You're coming with us." The policeman on the left said and brandished a pair of handcuffs.

Twenty minutes later, he was being escorted into court. It was a good thing that he was already dressed for work and it would have been quite embarrassing if he went on trial wearing pajamas. But the courtroom turned out to be very different from what Barry expected. It was small with no seats for anybody else but the judge. The policemen guided him in front of the bench, uncuffed him and left the room. The chair behind the raised desk spun around and the judge revealed himself. The judge was old and bald and wrinkly with long white nosehairs. And he was wearing pajamas.

"Do you know why you are here?" asked the judge whose name Fred Frederick was according to his nameplate.

"Nope," Barry said.

Judge Frederick yawned. "But you do know that it is against the law to write a story without a twist ending?"

"Yes," Barry said.

"That is why you are here. You have violated section 2-21b of the Literary Law."

Barry scratched his head. The judge began pounding the gavel. "There will be no head scratching in my court," screamed the judge.

"Sorry," Barry said.

"You wrote a short story entitled Ampersands which is about a beard-fearing young man who becomes the world's hero against an invasion of bearded aliens. The last two paragraphs detail how Popo, your protagonist, defeated the invaders and escaped the exploding mothership without a scratch on his skin. Am I correct?"

"Yes."

"That is not a twist ending."

Barry thought real hard and deep why Judge Frederick said so. He was about to speak again but the judge interrupted him.

"Popo, despite his phobia, managed to infiltrate the alien mothership, free the captured humans and kill hordes of alien warriors with beards. I think the proper twist ending would be his unexpected death after surviving through all those obstacles."

A moment of silence passed. Barry opened his mouth but the judge interrupted him again.

"Or he was an alien himself."

Nodding with a smile, Barry realized that that was actually a better ending. He later realized that he had been nodding with a smile for too long because Judge Frederick started tapping the desk with his fingers. "Well, Mr. Thodol?"

Barry took a deep breath and said: "Your Honor, in my line of work, I deal with people dying every day. Yesterday, I was so bored. I went home early to sleep so I could spend the night awake having fun in some bar. But the instant I lied down on the bed, the idea for the story popped into my head. It wouldn't let go and I couldn't sleep. So, I got up, went to my laptop and just began typing my idea away. As I have mentioned, death is an everyday thing to me and so, as my twist ending, I made my character live. That is my defense, Your Honor."

Frowning, the judge asked: "What line of work are you talking about?"

Barry moved his hand to scratch his head but then remembered the judge's warning. "Um...Population control."

"Oh," Judge Fredrick said. "Very well. The short story will be granted public viewing as long as you change the ending. You will be fined $100, payable now or else you'd spend a day in jail. Case dismissed."

Fortunately, Barry had exactly $100 in his wallet. Unfortunately, it meant he had to walk 6 miles to get to his office building. He was late for two hours. It was the first time anyone in the office came in late and instead of the computer screen, all eyes were on him when he entered. He reached his workstation with relief. He turned on his computer and loaded the company software. He ignored the queue of emails on his inbox. On the Name field textbox, he typed in Fred Frederick and on the Occupation field, judge. He clicked Submit. Judge Fred Frederick's profile came up. Barry clicked on the Detailed Cause of Death button and on the corresponding textbox he typed:

Judge Fred Frederick dies of a heart attack while pooping.

Barry pressed enter. He then proceeded to do his work routine: open an email, copy-paste the name to the company software and input how that person would die.

Six miles away, Judge Fred Frederick died of a heart attack while pooping.

visitor cute

2009-01-14T10:01:00.006+08:00

i hate fag lingo. i was supposed to title this post "cuteness" but thanks to the gender-confused populace who have claimed their own freaking language, using any word with the -ness suffix feels like an insult to my oozing masculinity. anyways, the real intent of this entry is to spike my dark gloomy blog with one ginormous dose of cute. and since i am still prohibited to exhibit the oozing femininity of my "kalahottie", here instead is a picture of my goddaughter, jaja, trying to bite off kratos's ear:

kratos: zeus, release me from this torment of my life!
jaja: goo goo ga ga slobber slobber.
zeus: aaaaaaawww...

2009 watchlist

2009-01-03T06:38:00.003+08:00

or the list of 13 movies i must not miss this year. screw new year resolutions.

1. transformers 2: revenge of the fallen
gimme more giant robots fighting! more michael bay assplosions! gimme soundwave! gimme devastator!!!

2. the wolfman
did you see that pic of benicio del toro strangling a guy? he looked like a werewolf without any makeup. creepo. anyways, this hopefully will be the new definitive werewolf movie.

3. slumdog millionaire
oh danny boyle, danny boyle. you gave me trainspotting, 28 days later and now you've got this highly acclaimed movie about who wants to be a millionaire. versatile.

4. the wrestler
the mickey rourke film that everyone's buzzing about. no surprise there since it was directed by darren aronofsky. not sure how this would impact the "realism" of wwe but mankind/mick foley says it's close to the real deal so, i dont know.

5. terminator salvation
even more robots, only this time they're out to kill bruce wayne! jumpin jupiters!

6. where the wild things are
a movie that seemed like it would never see the light of day is finally on its way to the theaters. yay, spike jonze.

7. g.i. joe
cant wait to see how they'll pull off cobra commander, destro's gold noggin and a swordfight between snake eyes and storm shadow. if knowing is half the battle, seeing is three-fourths?

8. the curious case of benjamin button
three things: weird premise. david fincher. and the guy who shot some other guy because his son wouldnt shut up and then just sat right back in his chair to finish the movie. i am sold. let's see this next week, love?

9. wolverine
here's hoping they don't fuck gambit or deadpool up, ma cheri.

10. up
pixar. nuff said.

11. sherlock holmes
i still feel i made better casting choices in a previous post but who the heck am i? rdj, i can get down with. but jude law as dr. watson?!

12. inglorious basterds
when i met quentin tarantino and shook hands with him a few years ago, i swore to him that i will watch every movie he makes for as long as i live. ok, so i actually didnt say that because i couldnt even speak at his presence, but im pretty sure i was thinking it, among other things.

13. watchmen
the guy who gave us 300 has just torn the pages off the best graphic novel ever made and transferred the panels to film. yet the legal battle continues and the future looks dim. if you have no idea what's going on, here's a great article written about it. basically, fox had the rights to the movie gathering dust for 20 years and they sued warner bros for making it. it's a money thing and sadly the law just might side with fox. basterds.

p.s. not looking forward to: akira, friday the 13th, dragonball, whatever shit they got for the next manila film festival.
p.p.s. my stomach hurts.

kicking it again

2008-12-15T11:55:00.011+08:00

i was listening to some music on one of my burns when i heard the mp3 song lifted from a classic flash animation which i have embedded below. i first saw it and downloaded through dial-up internet about 10 years ago. man, i am old.

*might not play properly on slow connections...

hi, blood.

2008-12-11T09:01:00.003+08:00

you know you are surrounded by idiots when:

you're working your buttcheeks off in order to leave on time and then your coworker messes around with the router because the connection on her side is slow and then the device falls to the floor and everyone's internet is gone and you stand up from your seat and exit the room because you're knot-pissed that they'll obviously turn to you once again when avoidable shit like that happens and after spending a long time outside, you come back to find them standing around and the connection's still busted. idiots, i tell you. people who'd drink the kool-aid no question. they're everywhere and i have more than my allocated share.

anyways, same day this happened, i headed straight to ayala after shift. i wasnt actually planning to buy what i did eventually buy. merely i was there to check its current price out. i hopped from shop to shop and happened upon this normal-looking dude with a normal, non-sales talky attitude. he spoke the same way a friend would talk to you about shit and stuff, unlike the others i passed through because they sounded like bored robots with their annoying rehearsed lines and weird you're-not-gonna-buy-anyway demeanor (i think probably it was because i looked worldwide angry). this guy, however, had the nice buddy approach. with the lowest package-wise pricetag in the area, i was sold. so, a couple of long-queued atm machines later, a wad of paper pesos migrated from my wallet to his hand, and in turn, he endowed my mitts with this electronic encasement of ecstasy:

blood.

my personal goddess and i have played need for speed: undercover against each other through ad hoc and i have had her dust for breakfast, lunch and dinner so far. no surprise since im still using my pathetic 1 hearsepower two-bit starting car and still learning the ropes of psp gaming (it isnt quite the same with a ps2). pretty soon, blood will be kicking that cute little pink butt off the curb.

p.s. will somebody please stop giving atm cards to idiots?
p.p.s. i love you, love. let's do that thing that we did the other day again some other day.

cgi jai

2008-12-02T13:01:00.002+08:00

thanks to my girlfriend who spent enough time and effort to make a nigh-exact digital replica of my ugly mug. the one thing wrong with these renderings is...

...i don't do this in front of a mirror like that. i never spend more than 3 seconds in front of a mirror and that is only to see if my hair is messy the way i like it.

11/11

2008-11-12T08:35:00.011+08:00

last night...

a woman in her late 30s who had sworn to keep her virginity intact until she was married to the right man was mugged and raped by three men in a dark alley
an overseas worker secretly came home to surprise his family only to find out that his wife had been cheating on him
a bum, that had spent hours in several garbage dumps to find food, lost his dinner to a bunch of stray dogs
a car veered off the road and fell off a cliff, killing all of its passengers, a family of four that had bought it a week ago
a high school girl who had just broken up with her older, womanizing boyfriend of two weeks saw that her pregnancy test was positive
a kitten that could not follow when its mother left because it had a broken leg drowned in the flood
a child with brain cancer who had spent half her life in the hospital, died in her sleep hugging her teddy bear

if any of these did happen last night, then i am sorry because...

last night was the greatest happiest awesomest bestest best night of my entire life!

recipe for a great day

2008-11-04T09:28:00.010+08:00

sugarplum pumpkin sweetie pie
+ cupcakes, gumdrops and snoogum-boogums (whatever they are)

main ingredients:

a pair of new shoes

clover chips

1 liter coke

uno stacko

a bunch of mp3s

1,000 tablespoons of bodily fluids

procedure:

lay old shirt on bed to prevent mess

wear each other's pants

tickle regularly

brush spine with beard

try not to sleep but sleep anyway and surrender body to kisses

turn a love song into a song about fast food

let the blissful feeling simmer while locked in an embrace

number of servings: 2
nutritional value: good for the heart and brain
best served with love

locked heart

2008-10-06T09:08:00.000+08:00

or 13 things that make my girlfriend better than yours/you/my exes (other than her breath)

there's hundreds, nay, thousands more, i know, but these are the ones i most cant get enough of. im pretty sure ive irritated her for incessantly pointing these out almost every day. writing them down here doesn't mean i'm gonna stop talking about them though. they're worth the redundancy.

1. her voice freezes time when used to sing, sounds delicious when used to speak english and creates new universes when used to moan. first recorded ringtone i've ever had.

2. her affinity for video games is something i've always prayed for in a girl and it makes me feel so good when we talk about leveling up and crying about cgi death.

3. her eyes squint when she smiles, pin me down when she's upset and glimmer when she slowly opens them as she wakes up. makes the nicest minitears.

4. her face has a million beautiful expressions that i'll never get tired of watching, especially the transitions. she does not look like anyone else at all. the mold was shattered upon creation.

5. her laugh could probably stop wars. i don't just hear but absorb it into my skin. i would sell my soul just to listen to over and over again.

6. her body is the masterpiece of a highly-perverted sculptor, is meant for worship and does magic at the slightest movement. it's why the word wow was invented.

7. her mouth kisses with fire, holds hidden pleasures and spews the most loving, praiseful and heart-fattening words i've ever heard. plus her teeth would give dentists boners.

8. her neck is a vampire's dream come true. long and delectable and accompanied by the most amazingly shaped collarbones ever.

9. her wit is able to compete with mine, produces smart, non-girly but very feminine entries, and drives me nuts with laughter. i may have tainted it with too much naughtiness.

10. her skin is a landscape of beauty. every inch demands exploration. i love how responsive it is to my touch.

11. her graphic design skills, though sans professional training, are at par with those that earn the big bucks. they're also proof that she's no computer nincompoop.

12. her love is wild. deep, soft, warm love but most of the time, explosive. i dream of the day that i will present her to the world and tell how honored i am to be at its receiving end.

the top thing that makes my girlfriend better than yours/you/my exes is...

13. her.

i love every single thing about you, tif. i have locked you up in my heart and thrown away the key.

best-smeller

2008-09-19T11:11:00.004+08:00

i have an announcement to make, one that i have been wanting to blog/brag about for so long but i keep feeling inadequate to do it justice. so im just gonna type it out the way i see it flashing like humongous bright neon lights inside my brain:

my girlfriend has the best-smelling breath in the world.

yes. and it's not just because she's my girlfriend and i love her immensely. this isn't a case of i've accepted it out of love or have gotten used to it or i have some nose problem. this is the real deal, folks. her breath genuinely smells like, i presume, the garden of eden just before the animals were created to poop on the whole place. i have not encountered such a sweet scent before. it's fucking olfactorygasm, baby. and i'm not even talking about the fake smell of chapstick or the way-too-familiar toothpastey odor. the freshness in her breath is natural, like she was born with it and no amount of food intake or saliva-drying idling of the tongue could ever desecrate.

i mean, face it, eating greatly affects breath. munch on garlic and your mouth will reek of garlic. drink beer and your mouth will stink of beer. and the only way to get rid of that stench is to take a breath-freshening candy or brush them teeth. but then those never work on people who have bad breath ingrained in their dna. and then on the far opposite end of the spectrum there's my orally gifted girlfriend. she brushes in the morning after breakfast, goes through her day, eats lunch and sometimes a snack mid-afternoon, no candy, brushing or mouthwashing in between, and yet when i kiss her, it's like she just chewed on a bunch of roses and then cleaned her teeth using a toothbrush with bristles made from hairs of angels. and goshdarnit, im quite embarrassed to press my lips onto hers sometimes because of it. no, i do not have bad breath, i just simply do not possess the same magical mouth she has and so i've felt like i do not deserve a taste of that heaven. i brush my teeth more often and longer now and take mouthwash like water.

the woman just never ceases to give me reason to worship her. if having foul breath is called halitosis, then my girlfriend has holytosis because the aroma of her breath is divine. perfume oughta be made out of her spit. so, i repeat, this time in rarely used uppercase because yes i am shouting:

MY GIRLFRIEND HAS THE BEST-SMELLING BREATH IN THE WORLD!

a swan song

2008-09-18T05:40:00.000+08:00

the swan and the tiger

i am tiger
you are swan
we are different
but we are one

you are swan
my elegant prey
youve spread your wings
and flown away
i watch the skies all night and day
could i jump high enough
to make you stay

i am tiger
heed my roar
nature's beast son
carnivore
these stripes just dont make sense no more
tame me
like you did before

i am tiger
you are swan
we were one
but now are none

wish, mister

2008-09-15T09:26:00.000+08:00

the birthday's coming up in a couple of weeks and the blessed blessing of a babe has coaxed me into making a wishlist. first one i ever made. i have always tried to put a list of wants and needs on my blog's sidebar but i never got past "straightjacket." that's the first thing that surfaces in my mind when im asked. i guess i just have too many and too ridiculous wishes that an unconstrained wishlist would be pointless. so, anyway, i made this list with one integral parameter: 100 peso price limit. not sure if i'm getting any of these but wishing has the same price as dreaming, right?

1. book - since i have no other form of entertainment in my new crib (other than the occasional visits from my muse), i have turned to reading again. been a while since i picked up a book and turned pages. anyways, booksale holds some rare gems under a hundred bucks. if you search enough, you could find something really profound with a 30-peso price tag. but please, no romance novels with muscled men on the covers.

2. mikmik - this is heaven in powder form. i miss the chocolatey coughing fits.

3. dvd - the growth of my dvd collection has slowed down. i remember going on a hunt and going home with a bagful. leave the cherrypicking to me, any movie will do as long as it's not made by a filipino. i dont mind getting a second copy of something i already have either. anyway, im not particularly a fan of the in-1's (still prefer the thick-cased single movies with complete features), but if there's a good one in there, sure why not?

4. cheap pizza - tastes nowhere near like the branded ones but yummy enough to satisfy.

5. globe load - i barely use my globe phone anymore so why is this here? well, globe still is the only network that has a signal anywhere so this would be for emergency purposes. and likely to thank anyone who greets me through text.

6. movie (sm batangas) - tickets are relatively cheaper in batangas than in manila. which is why i've managed to treat the whole family once or twice.

7. chicharon bituka - am i the only one who eats this?

8. beer - the thing i really wish is those old long happy hours of boozing and talking with luigi and the gang when getting dead drunk didnt matter. i don't think i'll ever get to experience that again.

9. clover chips - i think clover chips contributed to my weight gain while i was in peoplesupport. every day, on both 15-minute breaks, i'd munch on them with some hot choco on the side. every day.

10. jolly hotdog chilli cheese - haven't tried it because i usually go to jollibee for full meals. i'd take this as a snack. so, yeah, get me one.

11. striptease - exclusively for my other and better half. she knows this. i have bugged her several times. she already has the "costume" i require. all she needs to do is to show up in it, play something saxophoney and start gyrating. she virtually doesn't have to spend a single centavo, unless her routine calls for a pole.

12. massage - again, another zero-cashout gift c/o my superheroine unless the massage material isn't readily available. it doesn't matter really (oil, lotion, powder, melted chocolate) as long as it is okay to fall asleep.

13. self-made stuff - you know, the custom cards, the mixtapes, etc. probably the one i resort to the most when it comes to gift-giving, mainly because about half the time i'm with someone, i'm broke. good thing is, i'm quite creative meaing the possibilities are endless. i dont know, i just never run out of ideas to do shit like this. the recipient's smile is very rewarding. anyways, i dont think anyone has ever done something similar for me. if there was, i dont remember.

the thing is, yes, i do appreciate any kind of gift, however i cannot promise i would like it, especially if the object is something i hate in the first place. i mean, yeah, it is the thought that counts, but if someone whips me up some vegetable salad, i'd thank them, but i would not eat it because i would die. that's not as thoughtful as it sounds now, huh? so, to anyone out there planning to hand, here's your reference. not that i am actually expecting anyone to go out of their way. but just in case some good soul out there is as much of a gift-giver as i am. thank you in advance, stranger.

p.s.p is what i really want. rrrrr.
p.p.s. thank you, large hadron collider, for not destroying the universe just yet.

the embarrassing

2008-09-10T08:53:00.003+08:00

question: what is more humiliating than daydreaming on a mall stroll, entering the restroom, peeing in the stalls nearest to the door while wondering if the air vent above had a surveillance camera, washing your hands while pondering why there seems to be too many sinks only to realize that it is because there are no urinals and then finding out from a puzzled lady janitor that you're inside the women's restroom?

answer: so one day i decided to buy undergarments for my hot girlfriend. it wasn't a hard decision to make. the thought of her sexylicious body in the lingerie of my choice...hmm, i guess it was quite a "hard" one. but what i meant was, it came easy. okay... let us move along, shall we? the undies she already own are fine and dandy (in fact, she could wear adult diapers and she'd still be sexy). i just wanted to buy her new ones because 1) so she could sort of "wear" me; and 2) i'm a perv. so off i went to the mall and bravely entered unfamiliar territory: the ladies' underwear section. i was surrounded not only by numerous racks of straps, underwires, lace and strings but also by members of the female species in varying ages, mostly oldies, giving the lone male (me) suspicious looks, making the uncomfortable moment even more uncomfortable. but i ignored them and focused on the mission.

since i've had previous ponderings of the matter, i already had an idea of what the heart of my bottom desired. it was either something red or black or an amalgamation of both. i scoured the bra and panties jungle for a long, sweaty while. the red ones where in a shade meant for grannies and the black ones looked boring. i was nearly hopeless when i found this black combo with red ribbon thingies. and it was pretty inexpensive. i immediately called the closest sales clerk's attention and asked for the one in my love's size. i thought they came in a box but thought wrong when she handed me the goods as is and gestured to the counter. female underwear in hand, i walked to a different counter because the one she pointed had too many people at it. i placed the bunched up undergarments on the counter, slapped my money beside it and waited, itching to make like a tree and get the hell out of there at once.

but then it had been written in stardust that it was my moment for public shame. the cash register woman and her bagger buddy argued about the price tag because there was one on the bra but none on the panties. the bagger insisted that the price was for both. cash register woman didn't agree. this went on for a while and a line of shoppers began to form behind me. the two counter blockheads then chose to finally learn the truth with the least regard for discretion: they waved the underwear in the air, shouting the brand to call the attention of the sales clerks 50 yards away. sales clerks that took a while to get the message. around this time, i remembered the red undies for old ladies because i felt my face was in that color. a clerk eventually arrived to clear the non-issue (price was for both, of course) and the transaction was made. i grabbed the plastic bag and my change swiftlier than a phone snatcher. i left the scene, dodging stares. relief.

then again, it was all worth it when i laid my eyes on the goddess of all things cute and sexy wearing the goods. i don't want to go into details. let's just say that a subsequent explosion happened in my nether regions. the end.

p.s. please don't say i'm a cheap bastard. i was willing to shell out more than a thousand bucks for the victoria's secret kind of stuff but i didnt know where they sold those. help, anyone?
p.p.s. but it is entirely okay to say i am a pervert. guilty as charged.
p.p.p.s. coming soon: her birthday gift.

back off, mtrcb

2008-09-06T05:30:00.002+08:00

back off, i say. do not lay a fuckin finger on this movie.

p.s. = photoshop. [evil grin]

nine

2008-08-26T05:22:00.007+08:00

i want us to fight over the space on the bed, possession of the remote control and dinner destination decisions. i want to have long, going-off-tangent conversations on unrelated topics that begin with the uselessness of the appendix (other than to have appendicitis) and end with the binary form of words. i want to feel the relief of stretching strained muscles caused by complete absence of motion in an uncomfortable position because you have fallen asleep on my chest and your spit has caked on my nipple. i want to be smothered with unending sweet kisses and overly tight embraces. i want to choke laughing at the sound and smell of your fart. i want to make love to you, watching the beautiful contortions of your face and then you'd look at me and ask: "what's wrong?" and i'd say: "absolutely nothing." followed by your celestial moans all the way to supernova.

in other words,

i want to be with you.

●○○○ ●○○● - ●○○○ ●○●○ - ●○○○ ○○○● - ●○○○ ○○○● - ○●○○ ●○●○

bored and dangerous

2008-08-16T16:44:00.007+08:00

how am i? just peachy. thanks for not asking.

it's been almost three months since mt. asshole erupted and i hightailed the uno premises to keep my (in)sanity intact. once again, i had donned the derelicte duds of a hapless bum and had lazed around the house, much to the chagrin of my common dwellers. my only friends during the long periods of ennui were the mythbusters and the occasional internet-borne stimuli. having watched every dvd i bought before i kicked the work bucket and with nary a cent to purchase new ones, i turned to torrent technology to help me brush up on the movies i've missed. subsituting popcorn with spicy noodles, i watched son of rambow, teeth, the boondock saints (a new favorite), blade runner, the mutant chronicles and many others (no, that's not a movie. i dont know if there's a movie with such a title. what i meant was...you knew that.) . i re-viewed kevin smith's chasing amy and loved it twice more. also saw the orphanage, which was okay but not scary enough. damn i miss being scared.

the goddess of all things cute and sexy, whom i love with every ounce of blood that passes through my ventricles, was instrumental in jolting me out of my drear but her appearances were confined to my waking and sleeping hours. sometimes i'd be lucky to have her undivided attention for a whole day and i'd be secretly pressing my nostrils on the computer monitor, hoping to get a whiff of her beautiful hair's beautiful smell. her laughter is my vitamin.

anyways, i'll be saying au revoir to loserdom soon for i bagged a new job and will be starting on tuesday. office stuff but it pays well so screw "doing what you makes you happy" for now. at least i'd be stretching my lip muscles on salary day. i'm itching to get my phalanges on a psp god of war limited edition, which is not counting chickens before they are hatched but setting a goal to keep me up on whatever i should be up on. i've sworn to do well on this one, take it seriously and not fuck around so that i can save for my future and all that shit.

that's that, bye for now and as darkwing duck used to say, let's get dangerous...

p.s. i created a separate blog for movie reviews and decided to make it a group blog where friends can be regular reviewers. if you've got a predilection for them ole moving pictures and fondly type your thoughts, you should join cinemafia.
p.p.s. i want a baby. now.

never mind

2008-08-05T12:20:00.003+08:00

i remember when i transferred to ihmc in san juan during second grade, i had to take an iq test and scored 146. do iq's increase over time? i don't know if this is real but i'm posting it anyways because egoboosters like this come by rarely for me. i still hold dear my 146 score, though. i was effin eight years old, man!

cut me some slack, please. it's a slow day.

short story: four weeks

2008-08-01T17:54:00.008+08:00

He was Jak without a C and she was Michele with one L. He was a writer and she was a nurse. That was how they introduced themselves when they first met at a party and they immediately hit it off. After weeks of horror movies and rough sex in his basement bedroom, Jak proposed to Michele by dressing up as a surgeon and pulling out a cheap ring from a patient's open chest. She said yes. They moved into an apartment downtown that was close to the hospital and were very happily married until they realized how different they were. Hence, they fought a lot.

While Michele worked her butt off in the hospital, Jak stayed at home most of the time, collecting rejection slips from publishers. He tried to work at a fast food joint but kept forgetting orders and burning patties so he was fired on day one. He was offered a job at an advertising company but he just didn't want to be an office tool. Michele would come home and they'd fight about everything but they would always patch things up again because Jak would always find a creative way to make it up to her.

One morning, Jak decided to end his life.

They had a big shouting match the previous night and he broke a vase. At breakfast, he hugged Michele and told her: "I love you, love. I am so sorry. Everything will be okay now." She kissed him and left for work without saying a word.

Jak cleaned the apartment. He washed the dishes, picked up his clothes, swept the floor and threw out the trash. He then showered, shaved and put on the tuxedo he wore on their wedding. He even combed his hair. After checking himself in front of the bedroom mirror, Jak pulled out a toolbox from under the bed and took the gun inside it.

He returned to the mirror and sat on the chair he had placed in front of it. In the back of his mind, he hoped that his death would get his stories the attention they deserve. But more importantly, Michele was better off without him. She'd probably hook up with that doctor who kept hitting on her and have a way happier life than he could ever give her.

He smiled at himself and thought: "Now, I'll never get the chance to see her striptease out of her nurse uniform. Oh, well."

He grabbed the gun, placed the barrel in his mouth and closed his eyes.

The doorbell rang.

Jak put the gun away and answered the door. It was Scotty, their obnoxious neighbor.

"Hey, Jak," he said. "Do you have a shovel I can borrow? You see, I'm..."

"No," Jak said and began to close the door.

But Scotty stopped it. "Don't you wanna know why I need a shovel? You see, I have to bury..."

"No," Jak said and pushed the door shut.

"Hey, why are you wearing a tux anyway? You a magician or something? Can you teach me some tricks?"

Jak walked towards the bedroom but suddenly had an idea for a story. As a force of habit, he tore a Post-It from the pad and wrote it down. He was about to stick it on the wall behind his PC but then realized the business at hand and so he just crumpled it up and threw it into bin. In the bedroom, he turned on the stereo and played The Ramones' Blitzkrieg Bop because he thought that was a good song to die to. When he was back on the chair, the gun wasn't on the desk. He had forgotten where he put it. He searched the whole desk and pulled out the drawers but it wasn't there. He checked the bed, the closet, the bathroom and got zilch. He looked for it everywhere and basically messed up the whole house again in the process but he just couldn't find the gun. He gave up and calmed himself down. Whenever he forgot something, the best way to remember it was to stop thinking about it. So, he turned on the TV and sat on the couch.

He felt the gun press on his lower back. He stood up and learned that the gun had been holstered behind him all along.

He turned the TV off, went back to the bedroom, played Blitzkrieg Bop again and put the gun in his mouth.

"Jak!" came Michele's voice followed by the door closing. Jak spun around and slowly placed the gun inside a drawer.

Michele entered the bedroom with her left hand on her tummy and a small white object in between her right thumb and index finger. There was a hole on it that showed a red plus sign.

"We're gonna have a baby!"

Jak simply gulped.

clear?

2008-07-25T17:51:00.002+08:00

last week, while walking around the mall to kill time before watching the dark knight, i happened upon an idea for a commercial. so, i download trailers of batman begins, the dark knight and american psycho from youtube and edited it on top of the original commercial's audio using adobe premiere. the result:

the sweetest sin

2008-07-22T14:28:00.000+08:00

my bed is an island.

we are but two survivors of crashing lives, of invisible scars and reckless lies, swept to find solace under the sheets. i am happy to be stuck here with you. i will not build a fire so no one will find us to rescue us and pull us apart. our love shall keep us warm. both heads in one pillow, i stare into your eyes and get lost in a prurient trance.

behind your lips lies a world beyond words, i desire to be its ruler. i will wage wars for your skin and make it my kingdom and conquer the haven between your thighs...

and then time stops stopping for us and the twilight arrives. you turn to leave as you've sinned enough for one day. your kiss on my cheek where a tear just passed is the perfect conclusion to this fantasy. alone in my bed, naked and infected, i lie in eternal wait.

my bed is our island. in the middle of a sea where the dreaming ends and reality begins.

cloud mine

2008-07-18T23:46:00.002+08:00

this is my blog's word cloud:um...that's it. thanks, wordle.

profondo paradiso

2008-07-13T21:31:00.003+08:00

pretend this was us and not something i googled up.

it was supposed to be an ordinary [bleep]day for me and my jellybean; she, trying to absorb a lecture, and me, running out of things to do at home. but nay, we can't settle for another mundane day away from each other. so i gassed up the car, picked her up and we decided to hold up a jollibee, because no one's ever done it and pointing a gun at that effeminate giant insect must feel good. however, traffic was quite heavy in our prospective direction so we u-turned and just went to the beach instead. right choice.

after about an hour of talking, singing, laughing, driving with one hand because i was holding hers with the other, buying a footlong sandwich and contemplating what it would be like to have a penis of that length (just one more inch, dammit), we arrived at the place that seemingly had been reserved for us because we had it all to ourselves. money switched palms and we immediately undressed near the car to reveal our swim garb underneath, much to each other's delight, mostly mine due to the small black pieces of cloth with strings covering her oh-so-wonderful treasure chest. with her porcelain skin and curves at the proper areas, i think i lost the ability to control my saliva flow and was wet before i even hit the water.

we first dipped our heavenly bodies (okay, only hers) into the pool and stayed there for quite a while. my sexy fair lady knew how to swim but she refused my requests to show off her butterfly and backstroke. insert breaststroke joke here. i was underwater most of the time, admiring her luscious legs, hoping my lenses remained in my eyes. we kissed, we hugged, we had a lot of fun especially when it got silly. there's this stupid dance step i do to a boy band song and we found out that it's not advisable to do it in a pool. we did bullet-time sequences and she was in stitches when i performed a multiple kick move. i always love how she laughs. i tried teaching her this water-squirting thing i can do with my hands but she just can't do it. nobody else can. nobody.

wouldn't it be cool if like, there was a way you could go from the pool to the sea without leaving the water? anyways, we headed to the shore and soaked in the warm liquid salt. with no one else in the water, we felt like we owned everything up to the edge of the horizon. i watched her be scared of the waves like a kid. the waves werent that big but they assaulted her nonetheless. a priceless moment, and i knew i am truly in love with her. a shark could come by and bite my head off and i would die happy.

people started to pour in as we turned to the showers and there's a part of this story that i have to skip but i'll just say that it involves a door without a lock. we dressed, drove home and danced in the car. it was a perfect day until i fucked up a bit in the end. darn bicyclist. anyways, overall, it was a great first real date, the best ever i've had so far, a memory meant to be reminisced over and over again. the gods envied us that day.

may the fates who have brought us together conspire to pave a promising future for us so that we'll hope no more and just be.

i love you, love.

p.s. so screw me.

you want more fans, i want more stage

2008-07-08T16:59:00.006+08:00

1. Go here. The first random Wikipedia article you get is the name of your band.

2. Go here. The last four words of the very last quote of the page is the title of your first album.

If you want to do this again, you'll hit refresh to generate new quotes, because clicking the quotes link again will just give you the same quotes over and over again.

3. Go here. Third picture, no matter what it is, will be your album cover.

4. Go here. The first ten links you end up in (minus the .coms) are your 10 song titles.

the results:

my band's name:
curry village

album title:
most people never listen

cover:

songs:
roy's world
temple university
under a dying sun
bring back knightmare
fairweather
i'm scared
fall inside
security distro
move on
tremble (if you don't have a rat, you can't be one of us)

p.s. thanks, fox.

stampede

2008-07-07T15:01:00.003+08:00

i woke up tonight with tears in my eyes and shoeprints on my shirt. but the invisible stains are harder to clean.

i feel like i've been chasing my own shadow.

what doesn't kill you makes you stranger? perhaps. or maybe i am already dead. i just don't know it.

i need emotional surgery.

p.s. yes. it doesnt make sense.

the square root of tears

2008-07-01T17:38:00.003+08:00

jackpot wrote me a poem:

skip counting

how can one feel neglected
if that's not what two intended?

she tried real hard to mend it
took her time to spend it
like the shadow at his feet
she relentlessly had to repeat
what made them fall in love at first
and how they are haunted by their worst
she was too easy
to cry like a baby
but she never cared
no, she never cared
one walked the old road of solitude
maintained his unfaltering attitude
with blistered feet she caught him
with a loss for breath she held him
but he never cared
no, he never cared

what is two to do
when one can't handle three?

so i wrote her one as well:

pseudoku

hand-clasped lovers in front of me,
we too would be eventually.
i must ignore my misery
and wait a little longer.

hours pass and pages fly,
i find you with another guy.
i must control my urge to cry
and be a little stronger.

i need to go. dont fail me, feet.
be brave to walk an endless street.
i must accept my brief defeat
and push a little further.

aching legs and heaving chest,
i know i've done my very best.
i must allow my heart to rest
and dream a little murder...

she and me

2008-06-24T22:16:00.013+08:00

one month. one secret spot. two ice cream flavors. four french kisses. three pictures.

as much as i want the whole wicked world to know how beautiful she is, lives are at stake so i'll keep her identity hidden for now. and yes. i am one lucky ugly bastard.

goshdarnit, i am so in love with this girl.

party on, george!

2008-06-23T16:23:00.004+08:00

about two months ago, i was leafing through sale books in powerbooks and i came across one entitled when will jesus bring the porkchops? by george carlin. george was the guy who played the cardinal in dogma and introduced the buddy jesus to the public, and then later a hitchhiker in jay and silent bob strike back who gave some trucker a blowjob in exchange for a ride. but i remember him most as rufus from the bill and ted movies. anyways, i enjoyed a few pages from the book and regret not buying it. george carlin, at 71, just died of heart failure yesterday.

i remember some one liners from that book but here's one that best fits this tragedy:

"If I ever had a stroke, I hope it will be early in the morning, so I don’t take my vitamins that day for no reason."

r.i.p., motherfucker.

we're married

2008-06-15T14:03:00.002+08:00

a short story about sex change...

2008-06-13T19:05:00.001+08:00

there once was a man named bob.

the end.

jackpot

2008-06-06T19:08:00.002+08:00

i've had my mouth shut about something ginormous in my life and it's getting pretty hard to keep my lips together so im opening the corner of my mouth just a little bit to let some air out:

i have a girlfriend. the screaming muse is real. i did not assume her nickname, pretending to be her and giving myself a tongue bath of egotistic praises. my brand spankin new true-to-life girlfriend did that and she is one fuckin amazing woman. actually, girl because she's quite young (but legal, ok?), but she would whip me with burning barbed wire til my butt's out of flesh if i consider her a child so, yeah, she is one fuckin amazing woman. she's so amazing, the people on the posters in your bedroom should have posters of her in their bedrooms. she's so amazing, i believe she can cure cancer with the wink of her eye. she's so amazing, that if anyone playing a crossword puzzle asks me, "what's a 6-letter word for the most perfect thing in the world?" i would say, "my girlfriend." and then they'd be like, "but that's 12 letters." to which i wouldn't have a reply because i'd probably be floating in the air already because the slightest thought of her gives me superfloat powers. yes.

anyways, the relationship has "complicated" scribbled all over it but i love her so much and i'd give up my kidney, the ability to type, my thingamajig that has pins which follows the contour of anything it's pressed upon and my whole porn collection under the bed just for a glimpse of her smile that angels envy.

h.o.l.l.a.n.d.

the last king of snotland

2008-05-26T21:36:00.000+08:00

i've quit uno.

well, technically, i didn't. i was asked to voluntarily resign because the bossasaurus said that he didnt want me around the office anymore. however, the idea of resignation has been lurking behind the shadows of my synapses ever since i posted the alfred resignation letter in multiply. you see, i have been reduced from a feature article writer to a secretary. i do not mean to demean the secretaries out there. i have full respect for your work and clearly understand what you go through, having been through a sampling of it, but i just cant do it. im just not cut out for taking dictations, making letters for someone else, printing the same shit over and over again, wasting ink which i have to make a request for and it never comes and a bunch of other tasks that i just dont fucking want to do. hence, i have already jumped ship round that time, i just lollygagged for a while and enjoyed the free internet.

anyways, last week, the lower bossasaur informed me that we would be doing overtime work on saturday. i had nothing to do then so i said, "ok." im freeloading in my aunt's mansion in ayala alabang village and going in and out of that place aint easy. anyways, usually, when i come to work on friday i already have my bag of dirty clothes with me so that when 6pm hits, i sprint off to the bus station and head home to batangas. but since saturday was o.t. day, i didnt. at 6pm, i returned to the mansion only to receive a text that the o.t. was cancelled. so, i packed my shit, left alabang and went home. btw, my phone's battery was low the moment i stepped out of the office and was gonna charge it at the mansion but since i was going home, no use staying just to charge it. i died on me while on the bus. anyway, when i arrived after a long trip and was able to finally charge the phone, i got a text from the bossasaurus to text back so he could call. i didnt have love and didnt bother to buy because (a) i was short on funds and (b) work's over. and then, i was awakened the next morning by a text message from him again demanding me to be in the office by 9am. back story ends here.

after lunch today, the bossasaurus gathered everyone and began a speech about some shit that he was in a meeting when his brother called that their dad died but he stayed until the meeting was finished and left. he also bragged about not seeing his wife/girlfriend/whatever give birth to their first child. and then he launched a rainfall of missiles on me. i told him what happened but people like him are deaf to anything because they believe they are never wrong.personally, i dont know what i did wrong, maybe i did something wrong, but i dont see it. to me, professionalism begins and ends on monday to friday, from 9am to 6pm. anything beyond that is my time, meaning time for my own decisions. i am my own boss. secondly, i dont see why staying at work even when your dad died or your wife gave birth is something to be proud about. if my dad died or my wife was gonna give birth, im out of there. no questions asked. if the people at work dont understand that, then it's definitely not the place for me. and finally, he's shouting at me for not texting back and not showing up for the o.t. that was cancelled. was that really what caused the big legal problem?! what was there to fuckin confirm from me? ive already told the lower bossasaur that the jamie woman said ok when i called her. he could have asked him.

im seeing this as finger-pointing. blame the guy who wasnt there. and also, probably ego-tripping, since everyone's there to hear it. every narcissistic a-hole needs an audience when making up for his insecurities. "hey, im the boss who puts work before family. im fuckin good. watch me put this peon to shame." with all due respect, sir, not everyone is and has to be like you. not everyone is earning the same salary as you. yes, the mag was fucked up when you came in and you fixed it. yes, you run a tight ship. yes, you never make mistakes. yes, hearing you repeat those in every fucking meeting is annoying. yes, you can do the mag by yourself. then do it.

i do not and will not kiss anyone's ass for 8,000 bucks. well, except maybe natalie portman's.

p.s. all i wanted was to write. that's all im good at. i think.

beautiful victory

2008-05-21T13:20:00.004+08:00

my muse is screaming. she floods my brain with blood and tears. insanity is bliss.

"you do not appreciate me," said she.

"shut up," said me. "you're a figment of my imagination."

she bares her fangs and consumes me. i taste the nicotine on her lips. her nails dig deep into my shivering skin, feeding my veins with her poison. i am paralyzed. the world spins out of its axis. my soul erupts.

"i am an evil heartbreaker," i hear her whisper. but i am not sure.

she leaves me to rot, dancing under a torrent of white rose petals. i die.

hell hath no fury like an imaginary lover scorned.

a very important question

2008-05-20T17:02:00.001+08:00

how many cannibals could my body feed?

resignation letter

2008-05-15T12:12:00.000+08:00

To: Bruce Wayne a.k.a. Batman
From: Alfred Pennyworth
Re: Resignation

Dear Master Bruce:

It is with the sincerest of apologies to announce through this bat-monitor message that I am resigning from my position as your butler, confidant and all-around housekeeper effective immediately. Surely, you must have realized that already when you came into Wayne Manor tonight and could not find me to assist you in getting yourself out of that leather suit of yours.

Contrary to what you might believe, the decision came easy because basically, I am tired of your guano.

You have nary a pinch of idea how much suffering I have endured during my tenure. Being locked up alone in this humongous museum of a house is one thing. Doing all the chores by myself is another. Who washes all those dishes and pans after your big-ass parties? Me and only me. I have always wondered why, with all your money, you never bothered to hire a few others or at least use that advanced technology you always tinker with and make a fricking robot to ease the load off my back. And that is just the Manor. The Batcave is a whole other set of self-torture. Keeping that place free from the stench of bat droppings is no simple task. I guess it's only fair to tell you now that last night I caught one of your "pets", cooked it and served it as chicken carbonara for dinner. Guess what I used to make the white sauce.

Though I have chosen to sever our ties and pursue my other passion (ballroom dancing), I guarantee you that your secret identity is safe with me. But I have made copies of all the data in your hard drives ready to be sent to your competitors just in case you have any plans of revenge. I mean, we both know you are one bitter bastard.

Thank you and good luck on striking fear into the hearts of men or whatever.

Sincerely,

Alfred

P.S. I was kidding about the bat soup but the mop is in the third cabinet from the kitchen door in case you puked when I mentioned it.

apocalypse how

2008-05-06T16:08:00.002+08:00

*edited version on uno magazine april 2008

APOCALYPSE HOW

On a zoo trip, a giraffe bent down to us and asked: How will the world end? We couldn’t answer because we were so engrossed at the sight of copulating crocodiles. Anyways, the question stuck to us so much, we had to do a feature on it. For this, we gathered scientists, futurists and psychics and we asked them who they think will win this year’s American Idol. After that, we all went out for drinks and those specialists ditched us when we passed out. So, we just put our hungover heads together and came up with these five possible doomsday scenarios. We wanted to interview the speaking giraffe but the other giraffes had killed him for breaking their non-speaking rule.

Okay, now that the beginning has ended, let’s begin the end!

METEOR CRASH
Thanks to online porn, a lonesome scientist in an observatory fails to, uh, observe the first appearance of a meteor headed for Earth. When he does see the meteor, it is so close that estimated time of impact is tomorrow. He sends an email of warning to all his scientist friends and videotapes a farewell message, which he uploads to YouTube and becomes most watched clip. The governments contact Michael Bay to get Bruce Willis and Ben Affleck to solve the meteor problem but he’s busy filming the Arcee-Bumblebee sex scene in Transformers 2. The next day, the meteor arrives and it’s the size of a bowling ball. It disintegrates upon atmosphere entry. Everyone rejoices and takes off all their clothes in a worldwide nude party. Just as the geeks scream “Orgy!”, a second ginormous meteor hits and the world crumbles.
Odds: Likely

WORLD WAR III
It’s every beauty pageant contestant’s nightmare. A rogue nation is fed up with the rest of the world’s shit and unleashes the weapons of mass destruction--nuclear, biological or chemical--that it has been developing in secret for years. A bigger country with an even bigger stash of bombs gets pissed for not thinking of it first and fights back. The much-expected Third World War ensues as everyone else joins the fray. There’s rains of missiles, humongous mushroom clouds in every direction, flying limbs and a bunch of people beating up the guy with the prophetic sandwich sign. When the dust clears, humankind is wiped out and the Earth is one big empty parking lot with crater-size potholes. If there are any survivors, they’d probably be screaming, mindless mutants that only eat waffles but would die eventually because there’s no more waffles.
Odds: You betcha.

ALIEN INVASION
SETI (Search for Extra-Terrestrial Intelligence) hits pay dirt when transmission from an alien race is intercepted. Dudes who have too much free time decode the message which basically says “We’re coming, bitches!” Apparently, when NASA beamed The Beatles song Across The Universe in space, the aliens liked it so much that they’re devastated to learn that John Lennon is already dead. And what better way to release anger than destroy the Earth. Upon their arrival in phallic spaceships, the aliens first turn their mega-laser sights to the supposed abductees who spread the anal probing rumor, which wasn’t true. Everybody else is killed next and no one is spared. The aliens then haul the whole, barren Earth back to their home planet and put it in a museum. Entrance fee is 1 million kryptonites.
Odds: Yeah, right.

SECOND COMING
Preachers everywhere go “I told ya!” to everyone as the Four Horsemen of Apocalypse come in from four corners of the globe, even though it’s round. They do a race on who can kill the most in one pass around the world and Death wins of course because that’s what he does. They then pave the way for the arrival of the boss of all bosses. Everything goes dark for a while and a spotlight from nowhere suddenly comes on as Jesus bursts into the scene in a badass Harley Davidson that would make Ghost Rider splooge his pants. Every person He passes by that believed in Him is given a big bike and they all ride along with Him up the highway to Heaven. The ground opens up and eats all the atheists and other non-believers, making them Satan’s sex slaves. Then God does Genesis 2.0 and on the first day He says, “Let there be lightsabers.”
Odds: Slim

IT’S ALL A DREAM
It turns out that reality as we know it is all a dream. At a specified time in the real reality, we all wake up simultaneously and leave the dream world permanently. The guy who was about to have a threesome with Adrianna Lima and Alessandra Ambrosia goes nuts. This world is much like the dream Earth except that everything is in reverse. Cars run backwards. Fish fly and eat birds. Bill Gates is a bum on the streets. Burgers have patties outside, buns inside. And men have monthly periods.
Odds: Nah.

the minutiae of migraines

2008-04-30T17:51:00.002+08:00

had a weekend overnighter with the zombitch. i watched quentin tarantino cowboy up and the dude from casshern deflect bullets with a katana (hey, that was my idea, too, sensei!) in sukiyaki western django; she watched jang geum accomplish acts of anger against oh-dae su in sympathy for lady vengeance. she delegated three-fourths of bedspace to herself without my permission and i surrendered after fruitless negotiations with her snoring carcass. the next day, we woke up to a battle of guitar hero on my ps2, which i won of course, then left for lipa to meet up with a man who goes by the name obi (but still randell parcon to me). traversing the brand spankin new star tollway extension, we happened upon an "accident". she was taking pictures of us while i drove and i faked having lost control of the wheel. a series of shots to depict a make-believe car crash immediately followed. don't click here for the full "report". click here instead.

picked randell up from the side of the road and we hung out in sm city lipa. the pussycat dolls knockoffs were scheduled to perform later in the day so randell and i agreed to check em out and sport boners. the flightless harpy went home and us boys bounced over to robinsons to rebuild a triangle with teta. kristine a.k.a. teta was my mother-in-pretense back in high school. she's a real mom now and is happily married. she spilled all sorts of jellybeans on us, updating us on the goings-on regarding our batchmates. who married who, who's still single (like us), who died, who became successful, who suffered a bitter fate. after a quick pizza munch, we dropped teta off at her house and broke the speed limit to see the kitty girls shake their asses while holding phallic mics (the kitty kitty girls song with the k-i-t-t-y shit was that day's lss). but goddarn it we missed the performance and only caught a glimpse of jocelyn oxlade sucking a straw while they left the building. disappointed that he didnt get to flash his at the kitty girls, randell contacted our next date: wendy, my first ex-girlfriend.

in a cafe at robinson's sideskirts, wendy came with a guy whose name i forgot. she is engaged but not to this guy. anyways, talked about stuff that our conversation with teta didnt cover, with regular interruptions of my past with wendy. she repeatedly coaxed me to explain why i left her with nary a whimper of why. i refused to discuss the topic in front of uninvolved people. looking back, my reason was pretty stupid. but i was a boy, an innocent idealistic idiot in interrelationship issues. i cant even get my brain around how i courted her considering the fact that i was a complete wuss at that time. hmm, i surmise that i have some good luck with ensnaring girls but am ill-fortuned with keeping them. may i cross paths with my original half soon so i wouldn't have to play the abandoner anymore.

another pointless post, i know. i had some words lying around in my head unused so i cleaned up a bit to make room for new ones. thanks for enduring the pain.

p.s. i lugged around a friggin headache yesterday. and a shit-geyser the day before that.
p.p.s. iron man cometh!
p.p.p.s. kinda boring without a pic so...

blasphemous tumors

2008-04-24T11:46:00.001+08:00

i just received this text message, which the sender, im sure, believes is pro-religion. to me, however, it is proof of the bullshit that the religious use to defend their beliefs. here it is verbatim:

a man thnkin 2 hav sum fun w/ a kid sed
"tel me wer GOD is & il giv u an apple"
d boy quickly rplied,
"il give u barrels of apples if u tel me wer HE is not"Ü

#1. this is how religious morons respond whenever their faith is questioned, meaning they don't actually respond directly.
#2. the boy can't actually give barrels of apples, meaning religious people always tempt you with promises that are false.
#3. that darn "smiley" seems to imply that the boy outsmarted the older dude. (apologies for the following gross argument but it's necessary for the point) the man should have fucked the boy's ass and said, "god, surely aint inside your ass right now, boy. where's my barrels of apples? let's see you carry them all at once, bitch!"

what? no thunder or lightning?

pirated playboy

2008-04-21T11:42:00.004+08:00

on why i proclaim that playboy philippines promotes piracy: in a nutsack, that much-hyped new men's magazine sucked boogers. every guy i know who shelled out 200 bucks to buy one felt ripped off. they were inveigled by the glistening promise of female nudity that had historically caused playboy pages getting stuck together, only to behold barely any bareness. it is only fair to expect it, it is playboy, of course. when i was a teenager, playboy was a magic word. it was a proof of manhood. if you had playboy, you were a warrior perv. you could walk up to a couple of geeks talking about female buttshots in comics and whisper, "oh, yeah? i have playboy." and you got em worshiping your footsteps, wanting to borrow it.

now, the filipinized version has hit our shores, the dudes behind it running out of superlatives to boast it to the public. yes, they admitted that playboy philippines will not have naked chicks with peeking vaginas, only because of our country's conservative upbringing and tight religious grasp. so, why the heck did they even bother franchising it in the first place? easy answer: money. take a world renowned brand, strip away its essence, market it to the none-the-wiser and await the cash tsunami. they must have thought the playboy name could effortlessly squish the current mags to bits. sure, it can. it's playboy for garth's sakes. however, they bastardized hef's legacy the moment they stamped it with our country's name. a poor-quality playboy with zero nudity for double the price of the other mag? no thanks.

notice how every time a local singer has a new album out, they always say "buy the original, don't buy pirated cd's"? well, playboy philippines is saying the opposite: "this playboy is a knockoff of the original. you might see one nipple, but that's it. it's kind of like buying a pirated dvd where the title is not the same as what's inside." i haven't read it and i dont plan on purchasing a copy. they got me at "metal tray taking up a third of cover space".

p.s. shit i can't believe i wasted three paragraphs on playboy philippines.

for tomorrow

2008-04-18T15:05:00.001+08:00

PLAYBOY PHILIPPINES PROMOTES PIRACY

heads up

2008-04-15T09:54:00.001+08:00

this post was supposed to be something else (which still has no connection with the hottie pic of my imaginary girlfriend but who needs a reason, right?) but something came up and before im forced to make any more boner puns, i'll give it to you straight and hard (can't help it).

uno april is out! meaning, i'm a published writer now! woohoo! [happy dance] [confetti] [fireworks] [race winner spraying champagne] [a girl kicking a guy's nuts] grab a copy now, folks, before they run out again like the march issue! it has sexy pictures of sarah christophers as well but who gives a chimp's anus? it's got my debut-as-a-published-writer articles in it! so, go to the nearest reading materials store right now, point to the sky, tell the clerk "hey, what's that?" and pilfer the mag while they're not looking, (i hope no one's got enough stupid in their noggin to actually do what i just said) then run home and read it and tell me what you think. please?

aahhhhh. i'm done, babe. go ahead and smokey smoke.

p.s. it just keeps getting better. photoshoot!!!

pitch slap #1: sherlock holmes

2008-04-10T17:40:00.000+08:00

obligatory intro: when hollywood suffers an idea drought, producers turn to sequels, remakes and adaptations to keep the bills rolling. though i am a vanguard of creativity and originality, i do, however, have nothing against such resort, granted that it's good because, as we all know, while some do quite well, most attempts plummet to epic fail territory. so, here's my two centimos on what i believe hollywood should try next...

sherlock holmes is deemed the most filmed fictional character ever (followed by dracula). and yet, amidst all the hoopla of book adaptations, there's nary a single clue on any plans for a new sherlock holmes movie. since i dont think any producer would jump at a straightforward murder mystery, my concept is a "retooling" of the iconic detective, a whodunit mixed with a little action adventure a la indiana jones. sherlock holmes as an action hero? of course. he does fencing, boxing and some judo, too, i think, and so it's a not total departure from his character. just take a murder, pepper it with a conspiracy and have holmes and watson going places, beating bad guys, finding clues and solving the mystery just in time for the closing credits.

my plot would be an origin story with sherlock holmes vs. jack the ripper. the medical precision of the killings make dr. watson a suspect and then he bumps into sherlock holmes who is on the case. they rescue a would-victim named irene adler, whom holmes falls in love with. baddies show up and the trio realize there's something more to it than just a guy whacking whores. it could be that there's a secret government experiment that went wrong, maybe they're taking recently dead criminals and reviving them into assassins, and jack the ripper escaped or something. and then in the end, holmes finds out that professor moriarty had a part in it, in a possible-sequel ending.

my dream cast: there is no other actor on earth right now who is more fit to play holmes than hugh laurie. all he's got to do is basically play his most famous role to date, house, in his natural british accent but with more brooding and less negativity. cant see him wearing that deerstalker hat though. anyways, as for watson, i first envisioned philip seymour hoffman but i thought maybe the movie needed a little comic relief. and then it came to me, a bespectacled simon pegg as dr. watson. he's pulled from his dull doctor life and he's chronicling everything they do in a journal with hopes of publishing it in the future. put in a hot actress like kate winslet as irene adler and tobin bell as professor moriarty and you've got your new sherlock holmes movie. case closed (sheesh).

p.s. i have a hardbound book that has all the sherlock holmes short stories, unabridged and illustrated with the original artwork from the strand magazine. joyce, you're cute and all but please bring it back in one piece. or else.
p.p.s. you win, luna. needle it is. or he is.
p.p.p.s. "i'm not your friend, buddy." "i'm not your buddy, guy." "i'm not your guy, friend." i'm not your friend, buddy."

a token of attitude

2008-04-08T12:53:00.000+08:00

warning: more hate coming at you.

i hate being the one who knows most about computers in our house. being that, im always, always the go-to guy for pc-based stuff like online research, documents, troubleshooting, etc. im a very helpful person, but i dont like it when i have to provide help for the smallest, simplest of things. for example, the other day i was out with a witch when my brother texted me that the pc won't turn on. i couldn't see how being hundreds of miles away from home can allow me to fix that. our home pc clunks out sometimes, and when it happens and im not around, i always tell them "taktake." (which is batangueno for "itaktak" which is tagalog for "lift the front up a bit and let it drop"). i dont know why but none of them seem to get this quickie solution, even though it works all the time. anyways, so, im basically tired of getting calls or receiving text for help because i would assume that by now they know i'd obviously give the same reply.

i also hate the fact that people rely on the internet now so much. im quite good at finding info on the interwebs, but some just cant understand that if it aint there, i won't find it. also, not everything you see on a webpage is the truth or has anything to do with what you're trying to look for. especially those ads. dont just click them. anyways, im not saying these people are stupid. they're just lazy. we're all lazy about something. which i also hate because, when im lazy, i get a lot of flak, even though my laziness does not require some other person's efforts. but when they're being lazy and asking me to do their shit, they dont hear a thing from me.

so, thank you, blog.

ride and gloom

2008-04-04T11:48:00.000+08:00

"you hate too much."

so said the future lung cancer corpse named luna on one of our pedestrian pretensions. can't exactly remember what i said to make her surmise that. anyways, of course, i do. there is a lot to hate in this world, heck, in the philippines alone, so many that it i'd probably surpass the limit of the free cyberspace space allotted to me if i ranted about each one of them, especially the very broad ones like politicians. a diatribe of despise on them is like 15 blog posts worth already. if there's anyone with the audacity to waste time and brain cells on them.

so, i thought maybe it's better to stick to something specific. then, i told myself, "hey, handsome dude. what's up? write something about motorcycles with sound systems!"to which myself replied. "okay, cutie."

yes. i hate motorcycles with sound systems. i'd be walking down the street and this helmeted moron would come riding down the road in his audio-equipped moped, usually playing something annoying like soulja boy. i just don't get it. why? why would these bozos hook up their rides with speakers blasting out music like it's campaign season? because cars do? bullturd. the music stays inside (but it is, however, equally loathesome when a car drives by with open windows hip-hop bass blasting out). my father is a bike enthusiast and once belonged to a group of batangas-based big bikers that would regularly go on groups trips riding their two-wheeled machines. not one of them had sound systems. you know what i think? it's just plain arrogance, albeit nonsense arrogance. the car chaps, of course, kinda have a bit of bragging rights with their pimped-out car. still, bottomline is, a car is meant to take you from point a to point b. fill it with stickers, lights, hydraulics, put wings on it, it doesnt matter. it's still a car that gets you around, just like any other beaten up non-fancy car, which would definitely beat any of those lowered cars on a race through humped roads.

but back to the bikes. sound system on these scooters just dont make any sense at all. i strongly believe it should be against the law, as it contributes to noise pollution. if they insist on having music played while riding, then they should exercise their customization skills and put the speakers in their helmets. that way, i wouldn't have recurring thoughts of dropkicking them off their bikes when they pass by. the same goes for you commuters who keep playing mp3s on their phones even when the bus already has the radio/tv on. worse, they're lo w-quality mp3s on non-music cellphones. worser even, i once sat beside a guy who sang along to fergie's big girls don't cry. jesus h. christ.

im sorry if this entry started off straight and just suddenly veered into different directions.

cop: why can't you write your own name? are you drunk, punk?!

p.s. calling all movie reviewers! i need to tell you something.
p.p.s. i wonder if i'll get to kiss the lips of an angel tomorrow...
p.p.p.s. kitsch. damn right you are.

keywords

2008-03-18T16:14:00.009+08:00

*edited
with nothing to do at work today but think of questions for the interviews, i tripped through the interwebs and i found this:

the imdb keyword meme
- go to imdb
- pick out 10 movies you like (i picked 13 though)
- pick out 4 plots keywords for each
- post them and have your friend guess

1. ~~photographer, megalomaniac businessman, wrestling, suspension bridge~~
2. head butt, elevator, belly button, spoon (the matrix)
3. ~~priest, wetting pants, masturbation scene, crucifix~~
4. ~~heartbreak, amnesia, beach, experiment gone wrong~~
5. ~~based on book, group therapy, soap, twist ending~~
6. briefcase, boxer, foot massage, biblical passage (pulp fiction)
7. ~~night vision goggles, moth, basement pit, cannibalism~~
8. ~~artificial human, suburb, ice sculpture, waterbed~~
9. husband wife relationship, elasticity, frozen, sucked into jet engine (the incredibles)
10. ~~axe, snake bite, billboard, landlady~~
11. ~~department of defense, urination, cube, ebay~~
12 ~~pit, absurd violence, topless, rhinoceros~~
13. ~~ice pick, novelist, cigarette smoking, leg spreading~~

no cheating!

p.s. rest in peace, arthur c. clarke...

q&a and t&a

2008-03-15T01:08:00.001+08:00

in the spirit of putting a picture of a hot girl to open a blog post, i present to you, from phoenix, arizona, nanda:

damn i'd love to make that white dress dirty.

last tuesday, i had the opportunity of seeing and interviewing nanda in lesser clothing when she, along with two other babes, did a photoshoot for us somewhere in pasig. she was my instant crush the moment she entered the door and lounged around with her shirt raised mid-torso because of the heat. i always find the "mataray" look very attractive. while she was being made up, i threw questions at the brazilian named sharon, whom i had a bit of a hard time with because she couldnt understand them and had very short answers. after nanda's bonerific pictorial, i waited for her to get dressesd up and approached her for the q&a. up until the point that i said "hi, i'm jai" to her, i was so afraid of her being a snob. turns out she's even more gorgeous inside and i had a great conversation with her, a very, very nice girl who had a cute laugh. when i admitted that i stuttered a lot because it was my first time to attend a photoshoot and interview models, she told me i did fine and that it was her first time to be interviewed for a magazine. so, it was both our first time and we high-fived on that one. what an angel. i wish all models are like her. so anyways, i didnt get to interview the third girl, cinthia, the most beautiful of them three, because she said she struggled with english and had to leave at once. cinthia looks like alyson hannigan with a pinch of mena suvari. anyways, here's a pic of ugly me with nanda and sharon.

mom, meet my new girlfriends, m-w-f and t-th-s.

the following day, there was another shoot and this time i had to interview five girls. of those five, i enjoyed talking to the tsinay one named lorraine and the kana named nicole. lorraine is the typical pretty girl meant for campus crush status. her beauty is simple and easy on the eyes. a couple more hours with her and i'd have fallen in love. sadly, she's taken. it was only with her that i felt shy looking at when it was time for her to put on lingerie and do some sexy posing. nicole, on the other hand, resembles rebecca romijn but with bigger eyes, which is kinda cool since we were in the x-men room, which is waaayy cool. i'll take someone there one day. anyways, the interview with nicole was like with nanda. it went easy and fun. she even said so, although she could be pulling my leg. but what the heck.

those two days of ogling at half-naked girls and talking to them has brought me to this conclusion: american girls are easy to talk to. not easy like effortless, no sweat easy. easy because they open up more, they respond better, they connect with you, they dont give you shit if you dont give them shit. and among all those girls i interviewed, only the two americans, nanda and nicole, approached me to say goodbye when it was time to leave and said it was nice meeting me, accompanied by a handshake. i dont know. maybe i was just lucky with those two. but they sure helped me out at something im not really good at: socializing.

masturbation technique #13: pretend to be reading.

that's it for my first photoshoot experience. um... yeah. that's it.

p.s. i looked through my very old emails and found the welcome email from blogger.com, which i apparently received on february 14, 2003. i wonder who i dated on that day...or if i even did have a date.
p.p.s. it feels good to forget my insecurities for a while and have reason to be proud of myself. my editor-in-chief has used the words "very good" and "fantastic" as adjectives for the articles i submitted to him, which now have a great chance of appearing in the april issue. yay.

march angel

2008-03-09T21:44:00.000+08:00

this is ellen adarna. i have no idea if she can sing me to sleep and shit me to stone but, jesus-h-christ-in-a-harley, this girl looks yummier than chocolate chip cookies handpicked from the chocolate chip cookie tree.

i tried, folks, but it's hard to type captions with one hand...

if you havent heard of ellen adarna, the face that launched a million clicks, then you most likely have never ventured outside of your own web page, you narcissistic camwhore (hate that word). im looking at my multiply inbox right now and the first three pages all contain photo albums of only one person. i mean, fuck, do you really have to post every single picture you take in your life? have a little creativity with your photographic endeavors and spend a little time picking the good ones for posting. if you really need to keep the rest online because of your 1 gb hard disk, then throw them over to photobucket or flickr where nobody receives updates of your every upload. or better yet, help reduce internet garbage and delete them.

anyways, so, ellen is the uno cover girl for march. buy a copy and you'd also find my name in there. unfortunately, none of my work made the issue because it was basically done when i got hired. the april issue then will be my debut as a published writer (yay!). i wrote quite a bunch for that one.

later, alligators.

p.s. click here if you wanna whack your boss.
p.p.s. judy, why did you have to be 16 years old?

no such things

2008-02-23T18:55:00.001+08:00

warning: this is quite long.

this post's title was the title of a short story i started years ago but never finished. it was about ghosts. at that time, i already had a firm belief that ghosts aren't real but i wanted to do a take on it and see what i could come up with. there were some early scares through noises and moving objects but i only got about halfway and got stuck. i couldn't think of a way (different, new, mine) of what the ghosts would be like when my characters encountered them. of course, i could have gone the usual route and made them movie-like but that wouldn't be me. so, like many others before and after it, the document was deleted and the idea, buried.

the reason i suddenly had this itch to blog about the ghost "phenomenon": i work in alabang and im currently staying over at my tita's house until i find a place of my own. i sleep at her son's room; he's in college and has a condo. the room, according to past conversations, is haunted, which to me is bullshit. anyway, it has an aircon, but the flaps are kinda broken and the breeze can't be redirected away from the bed. i hate moving air. i hate blankets. i can sleep in the cold with no shirt on as long as there's no breeze hitting me. so, on the first night, i used a blanket and had a hard time falling asleep. second night, i lied at the very edge of the bed, no blanket, no shirt, and went to dreamland shortly. i woke up some time after midnight and i was in the middle of the bed again. since i only had a few hours of sleep left, i turned the aircon off. as i began to doze off, i heard a faint creaking sound. i paid it no attention until it came again, twice. i stood up and tried to find what was making it. it was the plastic computer table. it creaked exactly the way i heard it when i jerked it a bit. the aircon was off so i checked the windows. both of them were shut. when i went back to bed, it creaked again. what i did was i stared at it and waited for it, i was thinking maybe a passing rat caused it. nothing. when my eyes started to close again, it creaked once more and i got up. no rat. surely, i would have gotten a glimpse of it at least. but anyway, i shrugged it off and tried to go back to sleep. it creaked a couple of times more and then never again. a couple of winks away from slumber, i felt a cold wind gently blow across my back. when it did it again, i stood up and checked the aircon and the windows. nothing. i plopped back on the bed and slept on it. the cold breeze went past several times but i didn't mind it. i was so sleepy and soon, the sandman won.

that was my first first-hand experience of that kind of thing. i wasn't dreaming it, i wasn't on drugs, i was a bit drunk but beer never did that to me. i wasn't even scared one bit. there's probably a scientific explanation to all of what had occurred. whatever it is, i still strongly believe that there's no such things as ghosts. believing in ghosts would mean believing in souls and believing in souls means believing in a god who gave them. now, to keep that argument short, i do not believe in the bible god that the church has forced upon everyone. if there is a god-being, then it is beyond description, beyond understanding and beyond existence (and definitely wouldn't have three personas and wouldn't impregnate a virgin to give birth to the human version of himself). i do however think that we each have a soul, a sort of invisible glue that holds the body together. that "soul", like the god-being we can't ever know, is beyond our comprehension. to avoid making this paragraph as long as the previous one, i'll just enumerate my top three reasons for not believing in ghosts based on the concept i just mentioned.

ghosts can't have clothes. why would they wear clothes anyway? you have a soul. your clothes don't. don't say that there are clothes because of what the people remember the dead person by. if so, then one ghost should be wearing different clothes according to each person. don't even say it was the last thing they were wearing before they died. what, the clothes died as well?! an argument against mine would be, all living things have souls. human, animals and plants. clothes are made of stuff that come from plants. so clothes do have souls. crapola. if i put a man in a grinder and make a burger out of him, does the burger have a soul? ooh, here comes the burger ghost! sheesh.
ghosts can't have feelings. when i told my mom what happened to me, she said that it was probably playing with me and that i should talk to "it". why would a ghost play? to be happy? what for? if i don't play with it, would it get mad at me? of course not. ghosts cannot have emotions. if a ghost is sad, will it cry? no. it doesn't have tear ducts. it doesn't have eardrums or vocal chords either so no use talking to it. a ghost is a soul remember? it has left your dead body and therefore cannot have any human body functions.
ghosts can't have "unfinished missions". they always say this one: whether it's a vengeful ghost or a kind ghost, the reason they're still here is because they still have something to do. so when you die, you retain the concept of right or wrong?! a good girl is murdered and her ghost becomes evil to bring her killer to justice?! aren't you supposed to be just a soul awaiting judgment from god whether to take you to heaven or put you in hell? plus, if you believe that a ghost lingers in our world due to unfinished business, then you're debunking the idea that god has preprogrammed everyone's life. he controls your fate and your death, remember?

okay, i probably wasn't able to bring my point across clear enough. to summarize: believing in the bible god means ghost do not exist. believing in ghosts means bible god doesn't exist. i believe neither. yes, i have no solid or scientific evidence to support my arguments. well, do you? no. nobody has. which is why im making such speculations. i could only make theories and ask questions. im not saying im right. i hope i am but i really don't know. nobody knows. and i really hate it when someone insists that they know, that they're right. and all they say is that they just do. they just are. bullshitters.

the best way to counterattack assaults such as mine is to just say: it's faith. you have your faith, faith in god, faith in religion, faith in the bible, and no amount of arguing or concrete factual evidence can shatter that faith. that's a pretty good way of shutting the likes of me up. okay, i'll leave you to your faith. because having it means you don't have to lock the door to your house or your car, you don't have to drink medicine or go to the doctor, you don't even have to work. you have faith, right? so, shut up, jump off a cliff and let your faith do its trick. if you don't die and don't become a ghost, no one's ever gonna hear anything like this from me again.

else, fuck your faith.

p.s. if i'm wrong, i'm wrong. big deal. but, if i'm right, ain't that gonna be something?
p.p.s. this entry was brought to you by the letters z, t and e, and by the number 3.1416 . and also, by this video:

uno and juno

2008-02-17T23:53:00.002+08:00

uno: when the peoplesupport/t&c shit hit the fan, the bonds of friendships i've built with my co-slaves crumbled. some were tossed over to other accounts, some were thrown to float in unpaid limbo, and a big chunk knew better and jumped ship into open water. i was one of them. we drifted away from each other in different directions and, as if stirred by lady luck herself, the waves washed my bum ass away to the shores of uno (yes, the magazine). although writing is my biggest passion, this is my first time to work for an actual publication and so it would still take a while for this grasshopper to be kung fuing master-level articles. i hope for the patience of my very kind direct superiors. but i swear to do my veriest best against the challenges i shall face in this new, dynamic environment.

juno: here is my review.

p.s. i must give a shoutout to my new drinking buddies: michelle my belle, nobu (who looks like yuki kadooka), gelo, and moira whom i fucking hate because she's weirder than me. thanks for the welcome, guys.
p.p.s. coming soon: a rant about ghosts.

indy 4 trailer!

2008-02-15T01:54:00.000+08:00

total perspective vortex

2008-02-11T22:29:00.000+08:00

to see a gif representation of how universally significant you are, click this.

parasite

2008-02-08T00:05:00.000+08:00

i am the laziest blogger in the universe.

[skip explanations]

a while ago, i saw this show on etc called parental control where a guy's mom and dad who hate his current girlfriend each get a girl for him to date and in the end he'll decide whether to keep his main squeeze or pick one of his parents' bets to replace her. neat concept, lame execution, and kinda felt scripted. surprisingly, the dude chose his fat-ass bitch of a girlfriend over two spank-worthy hotties. ftw. anyways, all i could think about the whole time was: my past could have used something like that. oh, well. that's life. you wouldn't collect 200 if you didn't pass go. cant help but wonder though what kind of girls my mom and dad would find for me.

oklahoma. i'm off to get my hitchcock fix and watch vertigo. then rope. then both at the same time. then retreat to my room and play ffxii on my ps2, my bum life redux. but a major overhaul may happen if i "bag the mag." fingers crossed.

p.s. yay. i'll finally get to see a friend i've been friends with through chat, email and text for so long. weird.
p.p.s. it's pretty late but fuck being on time all the time: rest in peace, sir ulrich von lichtenstein. i forgive you for brokeback mountain.

reading

2008-01-28T18:56:00.001+08:00

eight facts about me

2008-01-15T22:15:00.000+08:00

after months of driving with an expired license, i finally found the time to have it renewed. now, i'm not afraid to run people over again. anywheres, the girl named heaven tagged me on multiply with this thing and since my contacts there contain more strangers than friends, i chose to put it here instead.

In the 8 facts about you, you share 8 things that your readers don't know about you.
Then at the end you tag 8 other bloggers to keep the fun going.
Each blogger must post these rules first.
Each blogger starts with eight random facts/habits about themselves.
Bloggers that are tagged need to write on their own blog about their 8 things and post these rules.
At the end of your blog, you need to choose 8 people to get tagged and list their names.

okay. here we go, mr. roboto...

ichi: let's begin at the beginning. when i was born, i was born left-handed. i dont know why but as i grew up my parents forced me into right-handedness. now, i'm not completely ambidextrous but there are some stuff that i do better as a lefty like when i play guitar hero.

ni: i've had three near-death experiences. one, when i was very young, my dad and i almost fell off a wooden bridge, saved by a jacket sleeve. two, when i was in first grade, my friend and i braved the adult pool and i slipped while i had him on piggyback and he wouldn't let go and we both drowned. three, when i was in grade three, i had appendicitis and was admitted into a hospital just in time: my appendix had already burst and i was at the 50-50 mark. whoa.

san: i was a crybaby up until sixth grade. i'd cry for the smallest reasons like missing a show i wanted to watch or i was just plain thirsty. seriously. i dont understand it either.

shi: one thing that i would love to erase from my past is the fact that i used to dance. not the party /club dancing or even the cotillion thing. that was okay. the choreographed dancing, dancing on stage, dancing in competitions, performing in front of a lot of people, that dancing i want to edit out of my history. fuckin embarrassing. and some of it's on videotape. sheesh.

go: contrary to my appearance, i do not smoke. not a single puff on a single cigarette. sure i allow myself to suffer from second-hand smoking from them smokers who argue that it's deadlier than actual smoking, a mere myth to pull you into the dark lung side, but no i dont and wont smoke. so, thanks for the offer and no i don't have a lighter.

roku: i have almost complete control of my dreams. i can fly. i can end it when i want to and wake myself up. i can continue dreams. the only thing i cant do is force a dream, like i'd be half-asleep thinking of being the only guy in an island of women but then dream of sliding down the railing of an endless stairway.

shichi: i want to say that i've never stolen anything in my life, not even small change from my parents because i ask for it, but i actually did once in college. it was a book of guitar tabs from national bookstore back when they didnt have alarms yet. it wasn't for me though. it was for my roommate (joeyboy!) who dared me to do it because he really wanted it but didn't have the money to buy it. i took it, slipped it under my shirt, tucked it in my pants and we walked away. i was actually scared going out of the mall, mainly because my roomie kept taunting me every time a security guard was in sight. the bastard.

hachi: and finally, something really out of line: i was once raped by a deaf-mute nympho chick. word.

and the unfortunate souls i tag are: chaiikovsky, patty cake, red_pl8 special, acey of spadesy, michelle lualhottie, sister ana patricia, randell parcon obi gyne and katrina halili.

domo arigato sore dewa hei hachi mi shima.

p.s. but who gives a shit, right?
p.p.s. happy fiesta, batangas city! thanks for free food tomorrow!

this post is not yet rated

2008-01-13T00:42:00.000+08:00

the last movie i watched in 2007 was 12 angry men. i watched that black and white masterpiece online. the first movie i watched this spankin new year of 2008 was lord alfred hitchcock's rear window on dvd. i had seen the remake starring christopher reeve on hbo once, my utmost respects to mr. superman, but it pales in comparison with the original. halfway through the dvd, my player haywired on me and wouldn't read discs anymore. it was late at night so i bought a new one the very next day just to finish that amazing film. the fucking thing even played the discs that wouldn't play before. good buy. weird that it has a usb port in front which according to the manual (and the bored sales clerk dude) allows one to convert audio cd tracks to mp3s and save them on a flash drive. i'd say neato if i had a flash drive.

anyways, just like last year, here's a quick list of my must-watch movies this year. and just like always, entries 1-12 are in random and 13 takes the top spot.

1. no country for old men
shown in america last year, has yet to grace philippine silverscreens. it's been getting the highest of praises all around so it's got to be good. based on a cormac mccarthy book? you betcha.

2. cloverfield
i'm itching to find out what exactly decapitated the statue of liberty. is it a giant lion? godzilla? cthulhu?! i'll find out soon enough in this blair witch project-flavored disaster movie.

3. iron man
as i've said once, the iron man trailer reached badass levels that the whole superman returns movie didn't. and i think it's safe to assume that jon favreau dared not to do a bryan singer.

4. choke
haven't read the book but i just know it's great. yet, i could only hope that this film adaptation is as good as or better than fight club. go chuck!

5. zack and miri make a porno
make that, seth rogen and elizabeth banks make a porno, to be made by kevin smith. sure is gonna be something.

6. the dark knight
na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na, joker! thank you christopher nolan for putting the man back in batman. can he put the ok in joker with one of the brokeback mountain guys? we'll see.

7. wall-e
pixar. nuff said.

8. juno
after seeing ellen page (kitty pride!) in hard candy and michael cera in superbad, i'd have to believe the positive reviews this teenage pregnancy movie's been receiving. hmmm.

9. be kind, rewind
michel gondry. nuff said.

10. synecdoche, new york
i was gonna say charlie kaufman nuff said but i you'd probably think i've dumbed out and can\t construct more descriptive sentences. so i didn't.

11. rambo
since there seems to be a shortage of horror this year, i'd settle for violence, to be delivered by none other than red bandana-wearing, lower lip-curling john rambo!

12. jumper
i wrote a script once that had a character named jumper in it. anyways, this movie is about teleportation though, which is awesome. double if they play the 3rd eye blind song somewhere.

and the movie that i am definitely not gonna miss watching in the theaters this year and would by the tickets now if i could is...

13. indiana jones and the kingdom of the crystal skull
hands down deep into the soil, this movie is my most anticipated of the year. can't wait to see dr. jones don the hat and crack that whip again and find out what this crystal skull business is all about. heck i'm whistling the theme right now. folks, adventure has a name and it is indiana jones. here's the teaser poster:

that's it for today, true believers. see you at the movies!

p.s. of course, this is my mainstream list. i'll keep the obscure movies that define me to myself. unless you wanna watch with me.
p.p.s. see you soon, nina. and your tattoo.