Bubble Boy

It seems like everyone around me is either writing a book, has written a book, just released a book, or wants to be an author. The President of my Toastmaster's Club just released his book "The Heart of Public Speaking" (by Raju Mandhyan, P 250 at Powerbooks).
Mrs. Boss's son Bubble boy released his photobook "POP! Photos of People, (ABS-CBN Publishing, P 200) yesterday at Nuvo, Greenbelt. He decided that he had waaaay too many celebrity photos that he knew what to do with, so he decided to put them all in a nifty little book.

I am not really fond of these kind of events, where Manila's glitterati rubberneck to see what the next guy is wearing, or are too self-conscious about what other people think of them and what they're doing. Your basic socialite party where people stand around, with cocktail of choice at hand, trying to look their coolest.

So what to do at these boring events? People watch!! With my trusty digital camera, i snapped photos of celebrities who came and pretended that I was one of them! My officemate Eduard and I played "Spot the gay guy" to bide time. (Is he? Isn't he? Are they lovers? Is that girl a he?). Enjoy!

My officemate Eduard, Me and author of the day Bubbleboy. Is Eduard gay? yes he is!


Bubbleboy and Agiluz's twin. is any of them...? hahaha secret!


Rcxy BAutista, fashion designer extraordinaire, wedding planner and part of Robbie Carmona's events organizing team. I totally had the hots for him when we were classmates in UST. He gave me the best game of tonsil-hockey I ever played during one drunken night when we were still in school. Yes he is.


TV host John Lapus. Yes he is. (obvious ba?)


Model Nicolette Bell and Former Bb. Pilipinas titleholder Nina Ricci Algao. NO girl na girl po sila!


Rene and Paul, two Dutch guys I met at the party. Rene (the tall guy) asked me out to dinner tonight. I said yes, pero wit ko sha feel! Oh well, why should I turn down a perfectly good offer for free food?

The busty Joyce Jimenez and her "boyfriend for the night" Raymund Isaac. Yes he is!


Model/host Angel Jacob

The Yaparazzi himself! What do you think?

I took more photos but I don't want to abuse your PC's capabilities.

*sigh* hopefully the time will come when I would've seen enough of the world to release my own photobook of my travels.

The Pick-Up

It all started with a manicure.

I needed to gussy myself up for a job interview, so I got myself a french-tipped manicure. When I saw how pretty they were, I had to get them for my tootsies as well.

Wearing my power suit, new two-inch high-heeled pumps, my hair in a neat bun and wearing delicate perfume, I was startled how I almost forgot how much of being female was actually to be feline. How being so feminine forced a tomboy like me to act willowy and graceful (which I'm totally not) and why girly-girls hate being scruffy.

Even after the interview, My pretty, pretty manicure made me more aware how the way I dressed influenced the way I moved. My usual uniform were sneakers, jeans and a t-shirt, and I never really cared that my hair was askew most of the time (hey as long as I smelled nice I was okay).

I became more conscious of how I dressed. I wanted my look to complement my manicure. My t-shirts gave way to my assymetrical blouses, low-cut shirts and pretty earrings and necklaces that I only usually wear on saturdays, or when I party hardy.

Last Friday on my way home to my parents, a man sat beside me on the bus. He was cute, in an Erwin Tulfo-macho sort of way. His biceps bulged beneath his trim black shirt, and his toned gym-hardened body was evident at the way his jeans rippled. Not too beefcake, nice! I thought to myself. His sharp features were hidden behind a pair of black shades.

To my surprise, he struck up conversation. He said that he was on his way to the LTO office in Paranaque to replace his stolen car plate, etc, etc.

Now this was not really out of the ordinary. For some women, like me, it is not. Some of the guys that I encounter are ugly, some look okay, but most of the time, they act no better than your garden-variety manyakis (pervert). The only cute guy that I liked that asked for my number was a guy who was manning a burrito stand in Cubao, who said he owned the franchise. I had a boyfriend then so I just shrugged it off.

So what made this special? The guy was cute! Now girls out there, doesn't it feel great to feel desirable sometimes? Yes yes.

He eventually asked for my number. He even asked me to have lunch with him, but I turned it down because I don't trust people that easily. He offered to take me at least to the jeepney stop, to which I relented. It was flattering. I don't really care if he calls or not. He just made my day.

The power of the pretty manicure lives to this day. This experience has convinced me to ditch my old look and adopt being feline.

It's great to be a girl! Todo na 'to!

Cathy's Night Out

Last Saturday made me realize how the fashion industry is actually run by misogynistic males who equate beauty with pain.

7 pm: All dressed up and ready to go. I was wearing a shocking pink bikini top under a *shiny shiny* silver mesh net top. Since I was wearing *low low* *tight tight* jeans, I had to wear my "secret weapon"--my floss g-string bikini. To wear anything larger would peek through my jeans and give me an embarrasing "peekaboo" situation. To complement my outfit, I wore my super pointy toed three-inch stiletto heel boots, you know, to make me look tall. I look hot.

11 pm: I was supposed to host an event, when it turned out that I was merely hosting a segment of the event. Oh well. I got in free anyway.
By this time, my thong was starting to give me a super-atomic wedgie which I could not discreetly pull out because of my *low low* and *tight tight* jeans.

12:30 am: My sister picks me up for our post-gimik gimik. Since the event from whence I came was held in a seriously SRO venue, my three-inch stiletto heeled boots were starting to pierce daggers into the balls of my feet and my toes. We head to Decades Timog.

1 am: The place is packed, thick with the stench of cigarette smoke, booze and people in various states of undress. I resign myself to another SRO venue.

1:30 am: Sooooo....It's Rn'B and Hip hop night! So the club is jumpin' jumpin. There was no more room at the inn for me, so I dance atop the club's huge bass speakers, which vibrates every time it goes fwooom

2:30 a.m: By the time Kelis tells me that her milkshake brings all the boys to the bar and damned right, it's better than mine, my feet are crying bloody murder. Vying for attention was the biggest and tightest wedgie known to mankind.
Since I was reluctant to weave through the thick crowd to get in line to the restroom all the way at the back of the club, I grin and bear it.
Hey Mama from Black Eyed Peas begins to play, and I cannot very well pass up the opportunity to shake and jiggy with the girl doing the running man beside me. (girl, the '90s was, like, ten years ago?)

3:30: We decide to call it a night and head home. I pass out in the cab.

I still look hot.

Queer Guy for the Straight Girl

I frequently have crushes on gay men.

I don't know why I'm attracted to gay men, but I am! Like the Fab 5 guys....delish!

I think it's because they're well-mannered, well-groomed, well-read, and just have so much personality! I'm trying soo hard to cure myself of fag hag-ism.

I think I always have been attracted to men like these. The first "fag" I fell in love with was my first MU (mutual attraction) guy. We were both 16. I guess in high school, gay guys "try" girls just to see if they're really gay. It has been a curse that has hounded me ever since.

I do have a "body type" in mind with the men I fall for. They're usually tall-ish (around 2-3 inches taller than I am), skinny (but not too skinny), bishonen-ish. A bit of a geek, since passion for something is always attractive. Thankfully, nothing has happened between me and my gay MUs. Even my heterosexual boyfriends have been a bit...effeminate.

My family is exasperated with my choice of men. In fact they think I'm a closet lesbian. My mother would frequently sigh, "Kung hindi ka mahilig sa bakla, sa baklain." If anything, my parents aren't afraid that I'll become pregnant out of wedlock; they worry that I'll end up an old maid.

The heterosexual version of my dream guy is My New York Kinda guy.

I've always wanted to do the New York thing. I think I can totally do the New York thing. Live in Gotham City. I could also do Paris. Manila is getting to be too small for this city girl. I have always been a city girl, so maybe that's why I'm itching to move to a bigger pond.

MNYKG is tall, thin (but not too thin), an intellectual. MNYKG is personified by Ethan Hawke (hotness!) and Adrian Brody. He may be of any race, but I want my man WELL-GROOMED! Not that I'm the best-groomed person on the planet, but most men HONESTLY! should learn a thing or two about hygiene.

I've always imagined me and my perfect man sipping coffee (or tea) in a cafe. Or in our home. chatting without speaking. I'll know him when I meet him.

***

My vow never to be jaded with life is paying off. I'm 25 years old and I still believe in love, and I still believe that I'll meet my soulmate.

I may be a romantic in a cynical world. Funny, I always thought that I was a cynical girl living in a cynical age. I've recently discovered that I'm not cynical. Far from it. Friends who are cynical are actually disillusioned idealists or romantics. I still believe that I have a soulmate. I still believe he's out there. And I am waiting for serendipity to bring us together.

In the meantime, I'll sow my wild oats.

Goddess of Gamblers I

One night, at a gambling den in Eastwood, the goddess of gamblers was amassing a small fortune when she was sussed out by one of her 'patrons'



goddess: excuuuuse me! fifi was not peeking! it's not my fault that you're a lousy gambler!

They came from a tournament of another card game where magic was the name; a world steeped in legend, yellow pokemon mascots and gender-bending, cross-dressing black monsters.

After the goddess won the "sexiest cosplayer award," the Magician, the sore loser, and Goddess (with her pet scorpion Fifi in tow) ate at a typical Japanese eatery (Tokyo Tokyo!), which was seemingly out-of place in the Eastwood time-space warp, a place that looked more at home in California than in Manila.

After the satisfying grub, the Magician, the Goddess and the Sore Loser decided to engage in a game of cards.

The Sore Loser, so sore that he had never won a single game in the entire series, decided to play until 10 pm, desperate for a win

SL: No! I will nt stop playing cards until I win! How can a beginner like Strawberry Marga defeat me at Pusoy Dos with a Pusoy Dos! at that ~!~

So we ended up playing until 10 pm

Of course the Goddess got the last laugh (hahahahaha!)