Pilya entries

Okies, judging time! my top three pilya picks are:
#3



Hotness!

#2



Wearable!



It's sooo her!

Honorable mention:



What a wicked sense of humor!

A Bumpy Start

Trouble started at 9 am Sunday night, when the car rental company sent us an SMS that we won't be getting the Vios until Tuesday, or 10 am on Monday. Would we mind if they gave us a 1.6 Altis instead? We just shrugged it off and decided to go back to Manila after Punta Fuego.

When we got the car, we discovered that it had a computer-printed plate number on laminated bond paper as license plates, but it had LTO stickers. We decided that, oh well, this is the Philippines, after all.

We settled all our accounts at the flat at around 11 am. With the Philippine road map we had bought two days ago at National bookstore and a Philippine guidebook, we went to my parents to pick up more stuff for the trip.

When we got to St. Andrew's Church along Quirino Avenue IN Parañaque, five blocks from my house, a lady traffic cop stopped us and motioned us t park. We couldn't park because we were in the middle of two intersections in front of a market, and jeeps were right behind us. As we were looking for a place to stop, the lady cop went all C.H.i.P.S on us and gave chase with her motorcycle, blocking our path.

"Okay, be calm, just smile. They just want a bribe from us," said Thomas. They didn't see that Thomas was foreign since the windows were one-way mirrors.

When the windows rolled down, a woman with yellowed teeth started cursing us in Tagalog.

"P***INa nyo tatakbuhan niyo pa ako! Bakit hindi kayo tumigil? Bawal yun pllaka ninyo!"

I answered her in English so Thomas could understand what was going on, when she cut me off and said "Ikaw ha, Ini-English nyo pa ako, dun kayo sa prisinto magpaliwanag!"

I was so agitated, I refused to leave the car. I explained to them that this was a rent-a-car hire, and we had no power over the plates.

I was shocked. Right in my hometown, I encounter a corrupt cop! Oh well better here than in the province. Agitated, I called my mother and my granduncle, who promised to bring us one of his cop friends. My mother sent us an SMS of all the connections she knew, from the Parañaque congressman to Gen. Sacramento. A few minutes later, my granduncle came with his friend in tow. We called the rent-a-car service to explain what was going on. Turns out, the owner was driving the Vios after picking it up from the last customer. He got to Parañaque in 30 minutes, and was sent to a room.

We later learned that the cops hassled 1,500 pesos from him. When he turned over the Vios, he gave us strict instructions to tell policemen that the car belongs to "my cousin" whenever we are stopped; apparently rent-a-car owners are charged much.

My parents were also in a bind; the Mercedes van they borrowed was in bad shape, and had to stop every 15 minutes because of engine overheat. They left at 9 am and arrived at 3 pm.

We had a map that showed us a shorter road to Punta Fuego via Maragondon; so we decided to take that road. It lead to a dead end called Caylabne resort. So we had to drive back, and fueled up. The attendant explained that our map was wrong! The coastal road in the map didn't exist! The auxilliary road was apparently infested by NPAs, so our only choice was to turn back via Tagaytay, 30 minutes away.

We reached Punta Fuego at 6 30 p.m., to find my parents at the gate. Apparently, Terrazas de Punta Fuego closed at 6, so we had to go to the peninsula de Punta Fuego 5 kilometers down the road, where the hotel was...

Overdrive

Overdrive
Eraserheads/Barbie Almabis
Alam mo mayron akong pangarap sa buhay
sana matupad na
magda-drive ako hanggang Baguio
magda-drive ako hanggang Bicol
magda-drive ako hanggang Batangas
tapos magswi-swimming dun sa beach
isasama ko ang boyfriend ko
isasama ko kahit sinong may gusto
kahit may kasama siyang aso
basta't meron siyang dalang sariling buto
magdadala ako ng pagkain
burger fries tapsilog at siopao
magda-drive ako hanggang Visayas
magda-drive ako hanggang sa Mindanao
magda-drive ako buong taon
magda-drive ako habang buhay
magda-drive ako hanggang buwan
please please lang turuan mo
akong magdrive
gusto kong matutong magdrive
(kahit na walang kotse)
gusto kong matutong magdrive
(kahit na walang lisensya)
magdrive....drive
drive

In the tradition of my favorite road-trip stories like Lolita and Y Tu Mama Tambien, Thomas and I are going on a month-long journey around the Philippines. We rented a Toyota 2005 Vios 1.3 engine (not practical but the cheapest). I took a leave from work. I was so afraid to do it.I've never really gone on holiday, so I accumulated three months' worth of leaves after four years on the job, and the paranoid in me worries that I will get fired.

Our journey will take us, appropriately enough to Punta Fuego, Batangas with the family, then Thomas and I soldier on to Sagada, Laoag, Vigan, Legaspi. Then we return the car and fly to Cebu and roam Bohol. I may not be able to update my blog regularly. A sanitized chronicle of my journey will appear on Asian Journal.

I've always wanted to go on a backpacking tour around the country ever since I got out of university. However, I listened to my parents and elders, who always held me back. Well, since I have somebody to go with me now, all their arguments about how dangerous it is for a single female to go out across the country is out the window! This is a chance for me to do something I've always wanted to do, so I'm taking it. I now have the money to do t, and I've made the time for it.

The flat is clean now, and we're in the process of moving out. A new chapter in my life is unfolding, and I might be in for a roller-coaster on 2006.

So buckle your seatbelts, boys and girls, it's going to be a bumpy ride!

The Faces of Eeeeevil

I hate it when needledick chauvanists believe that they have the liberty to do everything they want to women, just because they are men. Honestly, their ugly mugs are enough to warrant that they won't get a woman to like them. EVER.


I was on my way to work when this happened. The whole story is on my
friendster blog. I just culled this part to share with you guys. I hope
this won't happen to anyone else because it feels so wrong.

I attached pictures, read on to find out what pictures I'm talking about...

I got off at Makati to take the MRT to GMA-Kamuning, my everyday
routine. I usually wait for the first train cabby to be able to save
myself a seat. But today, the train was already boarding when I got in
the station so I had no choice but to rush to the nearest open cabby
door, which was located towards the middle of the train. Needless to
say, all seats were taken so I just accepted the fact that I may not be
able to grab a seat for the rest of the ride.

I was wearing a striped sleeveless shirt, it had a low neckline but I
still looked decent and was ok with it. Besides, there was no cleavage
to show off anyway, so I was comfortable with my outfit.

A friend sent me a text message asking where I was, so I was busy
texting back that I failed to notice two perverts standing beside me.
One of them was actually trying to take a sneak peak of what was under
my low neckline. He even took out his cell phone. I was rattled by the
clicking of his camera phone that I actually saw him CAPTURING my
breasts! People sitting in front of us saw what happened and were
stunned. He showed my picture to the guy he was with and was pleased of
his handy work, dismissing that I saw what he just did. I was giving him
a stern look and when he did look back at me, he gave me a smirk as if
telling me that I cannot do anything about it. I got so infuriated that
I called a friend up just to have an excuse of broadcasting what had
just transpired to everyone on board the train and to show the two
pricks that I wasn't just gonna stand there and do nothing.

I was telling the whole story over the phone loud enough for everyone to
hear. The passengers started talking amongst themselves, some clearly
showing disgust for the two asswipes while the others whispering that I
was actually looking for trouble for dressing up the way I do.

Of course, I didn't just stop at embarrassing them. I took 2 pictures of
the sleazebags too. When I got off my station, I talked to the station
manager there and filed a complaint. I was endorsed to the MRT central
station where I will be submitting the pictures I took. MRT management
promised that they will be posting an ad at all MRT stations, using the
photos of the two pervs, as a warning to all others who have made
capturing of breasts, legs and other what-have-you's of women
passengers, their MRT pastime.

I don't know if its Filipino culture or it's just that people don't get
that no girl would want to be sexually harassed period. It is never the
girl's fault if she is harassed and it doesn't mean that if a girl is
wearing a sexy outfit that she wants to be hollered at or that she is
showing off her body and anyone is invited to take pictures of any part
of her!


Love, rage, fire and flames,

Mei

Maria Edilyd P. Orias
Campaigns, Communication and Media Officer
Amnesty International Pilipinas

Tel. no. 63 2 927 9856
Telefax 63 2 927 6008

While I'm being a firebrand feminist today, a parting shot from Jonas' blog

A lot has been said about how to prevent rape.

Women should lock themselves in their houses after dark. Women shouldn't have long hair and women shouldn't wear short skirts. Women shouldn't leave drinks unattended. Fuck, they shouldn't dare to get drunk at all.

Instead of that bullshit, how about:

If a woman is drunk, don't rape her.
If a woman is walking alone at night, don't rape her.
If a women is drugged and unconscious, don't rape her.
If a woman is wearing a short skirt, don't rape her.
If a woman is jogging in a park at 5 am, don't rape her.
If a woman looks like your ex-girlfriend you're still hung up on, don't rape her.
If a woman is asleep in her bed, don't rape her.
If a woman is asleep in your bed, don't rape her.
If a woman is doing her laundry, don't rape her.
If a woman is in a coma, don't rape her.
If a woman changes her mind in the middle of or about a particular activity, don't rape her.
If a woman has repeatedly refused a certain activity, don't rape her.

If a woman is not yet a woman, but a child, don't rape her.
If your girlfriend or wife is not in the mood, don't rape her.
If your step-daughter is watching tv, don't rape her.
If you break into a house and find a woman there, don't rape her.
If your friend thinks it's okay to rape someone, tell him it's not, and that he's not your friend.

If your "friend" tells you he raped someone, report him to the police.
If your frat-brother or another guy at the party tells you there's an unconscious woman upstairs and It's your turn, don't rape her, call the police and tell the guy he's a rapist.

Tell your sons, god-sons, nephews, grandsons, sons of friends it's not okay to rape someone.

Don't imply that she could have avoided it if she'd only done/not done x.
Don't imply that it's in any way her fault.
Don't let silence imply agreement when someone tells you he "got some" with the drunk girl.
Don't perpetuate a culture that tells you that you have no control over or responsibility for your actions. You can, too, help yourself.

If you agree, repost it. Email it to your friends and family. It's that important.

Happy Holidays from Cathy and Thomas!

A Little Bit Wiser

It may sound a bit cruel, but every couple of years, I take stock of past relationships and one night stands and fuckbuddies to evaluate 'performances" so far--who's the best kisser, the best lay, the biggest dick--you know the rest.

Usually, I also evaluate how far my perspective has changed in the relationships/pseudo-relationships I've entered, and whether I have developed better judgment in my choice of men.

So far, I've been with only nine men in my life (and yes, that includes Thomas), and I have decided to relate the lessons I have learned as they've walked through my life.

#1- The Soccer player- It does not pay to be a bitch. I was really insecure, and I apologize for my behavior back then. you were my first and I didn't know any better.

#2- The Geek- You were a mistake. At least I had fun in the tower. Thank you for fulfilling my wish to "leave my mark" in the university, five days before graduation! ;)

#3- The Artist- There has to be something wrong with me when the longest relationship I've had was with an acknowledged fuck-buddy. No more fuckbuddies for me at the moment, I fall in love too easily. I've learned that I should never allow anybody to take advantage of my insecurities.

#4- Fedex guy- I should've checked out your background. I should've known you were with her. Your now-wife made my life hell, but I found myself in the aftermath of what you did to me. I guess I should thank you.

#5 Anime boy- You broke up with me on Christmas day, and accused me of stealing your mommy's watch as an excuse. Tsk tsk. YOu need some major cojones man. This is what happens when I let my hormones do the thinking.

#6 Yaoi dude- You really took advantage of me. I learned my lesson. I am too young to be anybody's sugar mommy!

# 7 Bishie Boy- booze + horny boys + sleeping in one room = bad idea. Thank you for helping me find my g-spot! Fuck you for trying to make money off me!

# 8 The Writer- Some things are really too good to be true. I should've believed you when you told me you were fucked up.

#9 Thomas. The journey continues. All I know is that this is my happiest relationship yet.



NikkiAlfar

Tobie Abad

Gabby Lee

Andre Mischa Cleofe

House of Wax

I am really chicken. The sight of pain and blood makes me squeamish, I have a low, LOW tolerance for pain.

Yes, I am a coward. However, my vanity far outweighs my fear of pain.

My sister wanted to impress her US-based hubby for their annual grand reunion this Christmas, so she decided to get herself a "brazilian" as a homecoming gift. My fancy ideas of "sympathy" and "solidarity" gave me the idea that, hey, why don't I get one along with her?

I have heard hushed stories and glorious results about waxing, the pain, the torture, the horror. Basically, you're paying somebody to give you one of the most popular methods of torture. It dissuaded me from getting "the wax." My "maintenance" ritual involves depilatory lotions twice a week, and a shave in between. I never, NEVER shave my pubes because it gives me unsightly ingrown hair, and re-growth is a bitch!

So my sister booked us a 5 pm appointment at a salon along Macapagal Avenue. I arrived late, and my sister had already started her waxing.

I was led to a back room, quiet and serene, with low, flat beds. My sister was lying in one of the beds, and she was just done with her procedure. Nervously, I asked my sister if it hurt.

"Of course it hurts!"
"You shouldn't tell me that!"
"But what am I supposed to tell you, that it doesn't hurt?"

Oh boy, if a mother of three says that it hurts, then it must really hurt.

I proceeded to undress myself. I was so nervous I left my clothes on the floor. The friendly neighborhood aesthetician wielded what looked like a giant popsicle stick, with a yellow, gooey substance at the tip. it reminded me of Stickwell wood glue, something which I used repeatedly in making my costumes.

"Is it too hot?" she asked. After receiving no reply from me, she spread the stuff all over my armpits.

I then began to babble to my sister to ease my nervousness. Funny thing is when I am nervous, I tend to laugh. I always laugh during gynecological and breast exams, tests, and stressful situations. Once, I found myself laughing manically as my plane during a trip from Boracay hit rough turbulence. Passengers in the small twin engine hugged each other. My mother looked at me strangely as a gave a really loud nervous laugh.

"So did you get the braz-YEOW!

Insert hysterical laughter.

My friendly torturer showed me the fruits of her harvest: a flat, yellow chia pet. She re-applied wax, and her second harvest yielded hair and small spots of blood.

The waxing in my other arm did not lessen the pain. I decided to grit my teeth and bear it. You're being such a sissy. Women around the world have themselves waxed twice a month, surely you can endure this.

Then they went to my pubes.

Now I'm really nervous.

I asked for a magazine, something to read in my vain attempt to distract myself from the procedure.

She applied a small patch of wax at the corner of my groin, with her soothing assurances that "Pagkatapos nito mam, gaganda kayo. Para sa beauty ho ito." (You will become more beautiful after this. This is for beauty), she pulled the patch of wax in a swift motion, as I yelped and flailed my legs in pain. She showed me the waxed part, a dense forest of inch-long hair, the roots so close to each other that two strands seemed to grow from the same root.

With each patch of hair, I began to ooze cold and clammy sweat. I could feel Lactic acid starting to accumulate in my legs from the stress.

"Kaya mo pa ma'm? Kaya mo pa?" (Can you still take it ma'm?)

Willing myself to continue, I told her "Sige kaya pa, isa pa," (Yes, one more!)

The procedure segued into masochism, with each "Kaya pa?" was met with "Sige, isa pa!"

Finally, when it came to the point of whether or not to take it all off, my torturer said, "Sige na mam, tama na muna. Balik na lang po kayo pag may tumubo uli," as sge gingerly petted my pubic area, as if it were a small wounded animal. (Enough mam, come back when there'e re-growth). She said that I must continue waxing unwanted hair, even if I don't return to their establishment. They stressed that re-growth will be less stubbly than if I shaved or used a lotion.

Wan and weary, I headed home, where a nude Thomas was waiting for me. I promised him a hair-free nookie after the wax, and I told him I was in no shape to do anything. "Oh my poor sweetie,it's so hard to be a girl" as he pet my hair.

Yes, my poor sweetie. *sniff*

Maybe I'll stick to lotions.




NikkiAlfar

Tobie Abad

Gabby Lee

Andre Mischa Cleofe

Spunk

(Advisory: R-18 post. Children out!)

You are what you eat. This has especially been proven true by my man lately.

It all started with mangoes.

The great thing about being in a relationship is that it leaves more freedom for experimentation. Over time, I've discovered that a man's diet affects the taste of spunk. Now boys and girls, before you go ewww!, you know and I know that in this world, porn stars aren't the only ones who swallow hmmmkay?

Since mangoes are scarce in Germany, he's been wolfing down the stuff like there's no tomorrow. Mango juice, mango shake, Mangoes mango...

Anyway, I noticed a slight "old wood-sy" flavor in his spunk, akin to the "woodsy" flavor wilted lettuce acquires.

I told him about this and he suggested that he start eating pineapples (or "ananas," its Indonesian name), because he heard that it improves the flavor of spunk. Lo and behold, it did! It started smelling...uh...like bleach.

However, this didn't last long, since the "old wood flavor" returned every time he started eating mangoes for a number of days.

So started the "great spunk experiment." We agreed that Thomas will eat a particular fruit for a minimum of three days, and try to determine if it positively or negatively affected the flavor of his spunk, then record the result. We've just started, so I'll post the results soon.



NikkiAlfar

Tobie Abad

Gabby Lee

Andre Mischa Cleofe

Photo essays

Gosh, I have been sooooo busy, I really need a vacation!

First up! I'd like to congratulate the X/1999 group. Sa wakas, nabuo rin tayo!



Best of all, I got to do it with Thomas, the perfect Yuuto for my Kanoe :D



Got this at the supermarket. Hilarious!

Weighted

I have always been a thin girl. As an adult, my weight fluctuated between the 90 to 100 pound range.

Guys thought I was too skinny; girls always envied how thin I was.

Girls would admire my flat stomach, how I fit into size 1 clothes, how I was able to remain so thin. Since I was genetically skinny, I did nothing to maintain that weight. I gorged on chocolates like there was no tomorrow, Sugar-loaded my bloodstream by eating powdered Milo and Ovaltine, Choco Mallows, Cotton candy, and fruits drenched in sugar.I probably ate my weight in pasta in a week.

The pitfall of being thin was that I had no ass. No booty. No junk in my trunk. Both my sister and my mother had this enviable trait, and I would constantly endure comparisons between my well-endowed relatives and my relatively thin ass. Therefore, I showed off my legs. Oh, but both my sister and mother had shapely and smooth hair-free legs as well. They were not any less pretty than I was, so I assumed that my mother and sister constantly got suitors (even if they were married!) because of the booty.

I decided to get a gym membership to get in shape for my Princess Leia costume, and finally, FINALLY got a booty.

Then I got a second job.

Then I met Thomas, a butt man.

And since Thomas is not a big fan of Filipino food (suspiciously eyeing a plate of Bikol Express, he commented, "most of your food like somebody chewed on it and spit it out again."), living with Thomas is pretty much meant that my diet became "European": Sour dough bread, cold cuts, fruits and raw carrots, potatoes, pasta, and heavy cream soups.

Two jobs, two months without exercise, and a Thomas later, My weight now stands at 112.

You may think that it is not much of a weight gain, but I'm discovering rolls of fat that I never knew existed. Sure, I knew of the puson and the bilbil, but since these were unknown terrain of my body geography, I thought that these rolls of fat were alien, like they didn't, and would never, belong to me.

But they do.

And now, guys think I'm hot. Girls think I'm too fat.

Except form my brother, who said that my arms were getting huge. Maybe I'm in trouble.



NikkiAlfar

Tobie Abad

Gabby Lee

Andre Mischa Cleofe

Facing the Music

I am the eldest of three children, but none of my siblings attach my name with the deferential title ate. In fact, they will tell you that I act more like the baby of the family than the ate.

I was always late, and not only for school and for appointments. I got my period a month later than my younger sister. She got a boyfriend at age 13, had a baby at 18, married by age 22. Where was I? In the corner, reading books. I finished school on time, and was the first among the brood to become a tax-paying member of society. Because of this, my folks called me "the career woman," maybe out of pride, maybe as a consolation, maybe as a way to establish an identity separate from my sister.

Truth be told, I don't relish responsibility. Sure, I'm responsible for my own life, doing whatever it is I do. I am very responsible in handling my money. However, the mere thought of being in charge of somebody else or something unrelated to me, something that I have to willingly commit myself to, gives me cold feet.

I don't like going through the trouble of being in charge of something. Honestly, it scares the shit out of me.

However, developments in my life seems that it is inevitable that I will one day have to take over something. I cannot go through life without being in charge of something, or else I would be doing myself a great disservice by missing out on opportunities.

Mrs. Boss' publicist, Gypsy, left me in charge of last Sunday's event, a horse race for the benefit of Mrs. Boss' foundation. I whined inwardly when he first told me that I was primarily responsible for the event, thinking that he was just being lazy.

Then he said the words, "Ikaw na ang bahala diyan, at matanda na ako." (Take care of it, I'm getting old for these things.)

Oh boy, I don't want to be Mrs. Boss' publicist! She can be a slave driver! I don't intend to stick around that long either!

-----

I had dinner last night with the Asian Journal team. Again, they said that Miko, the Philippine Bureau chief, will be joining the AJ team in Los Angeles. What made this announcement different from other announcements was that Sir Roger, AJ's publisher, said that he will be grooming two people in the office to take his place.

I hoped to God that he wasn't referring to me.

As I walked away from the party at 10 p.m., I thought why not me?

------

I've always known that I demand too much of myself, expect too much of myself, to the point that I give up on things that I know are a long shot. Such is the paralyzing effect of my fear of failure. *sigh*

Life is forcing me to make an attitude re-adjutment.



NikkiAlfar

Tobie Abad

Gabby Lee

Andre Mischa Cleofe

I'm IN L♥VE!!!

click on the Golden Arches!

I wish I thought of that...

Love you Miss Mc Donald!!

Trouble in Paradise

February 10 is a date I dread.

Thomas will leave the Philippines on February 10. He will come back in a year.

Will we survive a long distance relationship?

I don't know.

He wants me on the plane with him.

How can I go?

I have nothing waiting for me there.

No job, no scholarship.

MY life savings are just enough to buy a round-trip ticket, from the Philippines to Europe, and back.

He is furious because he thinks that I have no initiative to improve myself, to gain international experience. Because of our cultural differences, I believe that he misunderstands my "bahala na" attitude toward working abroad as a lack of initiative to improving myself. I feel that my life here is good, and there's no need for me to go overseas. If the opportunity presents itself, why not?

He says that I need to work harder at getting a career abroad, because people rarely succeed if they just wait for something to drop on their lap. He feels that I am acting like one of these people.

He says that my chances to work abroad dramatically decrease at age 28. I didn't believe him at first, but I was proven wrong. The UK's Highly Skilled Migrant Program specifically states that your chances to work in the UK are better if you're below age 28. He says that it's the same all over Europe.

His idea of helping me find work? Forwarding job leads from Monster.uk. As if Brit headhunters abroad would hire a Filipino stranger without working permits to the UK!

We're ok now, but this issue is simmering under the surface of daily life. It's the monster in the back of the closet, the unspoken problem coming between us.

What to do? What to do?



NikkiAlfar

Tobie Abad

Gabby Lee

Andre Mischa Cleofe

I Remember Daddy

My earliest memories include The Space Race Coaster, visits to the Manila Zoo, my nursery school class, and my large book of children's rhymes that i repeatedly read when I was three.

Yes, I learned to read at age three.

I was raised by my grandparents. They did their job well. I remember my late grandfather sitting on his favorite chair, which was situated by the front door, reading his daily Manila Bulletin, answering its crossword puzzle. I remember sitting in front of him and asking him to read the funnies to me, and I would laugh as my Daddy (that's how my mother, "Mama," called him, so I called him Daddy as well,)would explain why the Sergeant was beating the crap out of Beetle Bailey. Later that night, in the yellow pallor cast by a bedside lamp, I sat beside him in my grandparents' ancient bed. My grandfather's bony fingers would trace the words in the Spanish books he read (and would read out for my benefit). Later, we would watch Ron Ely (he was Tarzan, you know) try to get contestants to "Face the Music" for $10,000 and a brand new car, and Bob Barker's almost psychotic smile as he urged an audience member to "Come on Down! You're the next contestant on The Price is Right!"

This was life with my grandfather. An endless array of TV shows and books.

My Daddy said that one day, as he read the funnies to me, I told him that "I want to learn how to read, just like you." I proceeded to "read" my book of nursery rhymes, which I had memorized by then. This went on until I actually learned how to read by memorizing each letter, and each word, in that book.

My Daddy was a strange man. He liked things nobody liked, was unbelievably stubborn, as any old man is. Maybe I never really knew who he was; I may have idolized him to unrealistic proportions. I never really got to know him when he was young, and I grew up as he withered into old age. But really, is that relevant?

And I never really thanked him for allowing me to find my current vocation. Or for even for teaching me to love the written word. Even for his gift of teaching me the English language. And as I delivered his eulogy, I told those gathered that while my Daddy was not perfect, he did the best he could.

Isn't that all we hope for?



NikkiAlfar

Tobie Abad

Gabby Lee

Andre Mischa Cleofe

Newsheimers

I am currently compiling my old articles for the portfolio I will present to a scholarship program I'm applying for, when I read one of the articles I had written five years ago.

The rally was attended by Robert Aventajado, the chief of the government negotiating panel in Mindanao, and Atty. Oliver Lozano, the lawyer of the Abu Sayyaf leader popularly known as Commander Robot.

Oh my Goodness! I had this little tidbit under my nose all this time and I completely forgot about it!

I first encountered the term "newsheimers" in a Connie Chung (an American news broadcaster) interview I read in People magazine when I was in university. I thought then that the condition was outrageous! How can anybody forget a particular story they've covered?

Now I am afflicted with it. Man, I feel old.

Test!

How You Life Your Life

You seem to be straight forward, but you keep a lot inside. You are always tactful and diplomatic. You let people down gently. You prefer a variety of friends and tend to change friends quickly. You tend to dream big, but you worry that your dreams aren't attainable.

How Do You Live Your Life?

My Fantabulous Life!

This is one of those boring day in a life posts--forgive me if you deem it too banal.

I attended PCIJ's blogging conference. It was a very interesting forum on how blogging is shaping journalism, and whether blogging is a viable option for journalists in case of a government clampdown on media.

I was surprised to learn that GMA is set to issue a memo on blogging, prohibiting employee bloggers from discussing work matters or "out-scooping" the network from news coverages. Ethics and copyright infringement laws were also discussed.

There was some debate on whether news institutions should support bloggers more. ABS-CBN's ignorance of the blogging phenomenon has allowed ANC's Ricky Carandang more freedom to express his opinions, and even break news that the network has "killed." At the other end of the spectrum, ABC has supported reporter Jove Francisco's forays into blogging. Some believe that institutional support will allow blogging to prosper, while others believe that the unfamiliarity of the medium has prompted a knee-jerk reaction among networks to squash blogging, as in GMA's case. Though I don't run a news blog, it's still comforting to know my rights to free speech as a blogger. I also met a valuable contact that may help me get to where I'm going. Anyway, it's something I want to disclose just yet.

I then proceeded to the Komics Convention at the UP Bahay ng Alumni, mainly to catch up to new gossip, chat up with friends, that sorta thing. I finally met up with a long-lost friend from Journ school. Verns, if you're reading this, hi!

Then it was a race to return to Makati. Thomas was spotted by the president of a modling agency, and hired him to be a model/talent. It was the boss's birthday, dinner at 7 p.m. at Greenbelt 2.

We had a short argument because I felt overdressed. Thomas wanted me to wear the dress he liked, which I felt was inappropriate for something as informal as a dinner at Italiannis. There was no time for me to put on make-up. So there I was, bare-faced and over-dressed, rubbing elbows with the beautiful and the coiffed. I felt so out of place, and felt even more insecure as model after model converged at our table. Thomas expressed an interest in one of the models, who was wearing a brown tank, denim pants, and a full mask of make-up. Though I sincerely didn't feel a pang of jealousy, I felt that her mere presence highlighted my own physical inadequacies: my imperfect skin, my little tummy, and the fact that I was overdressed.

Ah, the little insecurities of life.



NikkiAlfar

Tobie Abad

Gabby Lee

Andre Mischa Cleofe

Best-laid plans

Thanks to everybody who greeted me a happy birthday!

I can honestly say that in the 26 years of my existence, this is the happiest birthday ever :)

I am facing an abyss, and I will soon have to take a plunge. And I have one guy to thank for allowing me to see all the possibilities of who I can be, without confining me to just one way of how to be.
------


A wonderful sight welcomed me when I opened our door.

When I inspected the card, I realized that he made it himself!

He knows that I'm not a big fan of his chest rug, and he actually shaved it off!
Actually, the rug is starting to grow on me.

He then braved hoardes of curious onlookers as he went lingerie shopping with me. Unlucky for him, Martin, another German intern for the Konrad Adenauer Foundation, spotted us. He made several ribald statements, and kept teasing Thomas about how he gets his kicks! Haha!

So we ate at a nice restaurant, and he paid for the meal! A first!

So we got home, feeling a bit tired and a bit amorous. We were in the thick of things, jiggling to and fro, when suddenly my stomach felt queasy.

"What's the matter sweety?"
"I dunno. My tummy doesn't feel so good."
I guess I looked really bad, because he asked, "What, do you think you're gonna throw up?"
I wordlessly went to the bathroom and stared at the sink, my stomach still rumbling.

"If you're going to throw up, do it in the bowl."

I went to the bowl and stared at it. Then I proceeded to divest my stomach of a 600 peso Thai dinner.

Handing me a tissue, he exclaimed, "Aw, gross!" as I regurgitated more of the meal.

My tummy felt a little better, but we agreed that was wise that we wouldn't continue. I felt bad for him, since he had to finish himself off.

He asked whether it was his fault, or was the food bad. I believe that the jiggling upset my stomach. We both kinda laughed off this new experience. I mean, who has heard of anybody throwing up because of sex?

Lesson learned: Do not have sex with a full stomach. Like when you go swimming. Maybe 30 minutes is enough?

Wordsmiths Unite!

I am reading my copy of Stunk and White's Element of Style. I've always been bothered by the very first rule:

Form the possessive singular of nouns by adding 's.
Follow this rule whatever the final consonant. Thus write,
Charles's friend
Burns's poems
the witch's malice

I've always written possesives of nouns ending in s with just an apostrophe, for example:

He added that the tense situation is being further fueled by Justice Sec. Raul Gonzales’ “psychotic statements.”

I've been taught that it is sufficient to form possessives of nouns ending in s with an apostrope in grade school by all of my English teachers. In my university, my professors did the same, even if Strunk and White's bible was recommended reading in journalism school.

What gives? I'd like to conduct an opinion poll to get rid of the doubt that forms at the back of my head every time I need to form a possessive of a noun ending in s!

UPDATE: Thanks, to Anansi Girl, I discovered that Jessica Zafra now has a blog.
Even if I'm not much of a fan, she still is an interesting read.



NikkiAlfar

Tobie Abad

Gabby Lee

Andre Mischa Cleofe

Meat and Potatoes

Men are from Mars and Women are from Venus. Men are visual, women rely on a more compleat sensory experience. He likes to look, I like to talk dirty.

I read somewhere that men are more turned on by hardcore pornography, while women like their porn movies with a plot, a narrative, soft lights, and wholesome, un-slutty looking women. I learned that I probably am an exception to this rule!

Looking for more variety in my sex life, I picked up a pirated porn video on my way home yesterday. The box read "Kama Sutra: Six-in-one video." As soon as I got home, Arashi-Kishu, pornographer and pirate, was eager to watch and learn.

Its not unusual for couples to watch and learn from pornography. Like every male, he has his own stash of porn, though it's not enough to rival Dean's

Now, I have nothing against pornography. As long as the players in it are legal, no anal, no animals, no children, no extremely weird fetishes, fine by me. But I have to reiterate that I am an FHM , not a Cosmo girl.

As soon as we hit the "play" button, we were greeted by a worried housewife who felt that she wasn't good enough in the sack. While house cleaning, she chances upon an old sex tape of her husband banging his ex-wife.

I am unused to watching women's porn, so I went "What the fuck?" I don't like it when women in my porn are insecure about their bodies.

What totally ruined the mood for me and made me burst out laughing was the scene where the "liberated" housewife was fake-banging her husband away. Her hubby, who was the "bottom," was obviously aroused by all the wriggling on top of him. He had his legs crossed, probably to hide his erection! Since this was soft-core stuff, the actors probably would like to think that they're not pornographers.

Second story was about a well-endowed lesbian who gets aroused while she peeks at her straight roomie with her boyfriend while making out .

Him: "Ooh, she looks slutty. Maybe this would be better than the last one."
Me: "I hope so. Push the forward button! Get to the sex!"
Lesbo on screen, to her shrink: "I have never been with a man before. So you think I'm missing something?"

So Lezzie proposes a threesome to straight roommate. Roommate agrees. Cut to the next scene, where the women are wearing Jane Fonda-style spandex thongs. The most boring three-way in the history of porn commences.

Me: "Are they serious?"
Him: "What are they wearing? Her ass looks ugly!"

By the time we made our way to movie number four, which demonstrated several sex positions for ex-gymnasts, I was already half-asleep, my libido completely gone. This was waaay more boring than the Paris Hilton sex video. This was evidence that given the right treatment, even sex can be boring!

Which means, I'll stick to good ole' hardcore American porn, thank you very much.