Today's Jukebox Single

Long Distance - Brandy

For the emotera in you. This one strikes a particularly ringing note with me. I think I like this one, for obvious reasons. Trite!

Alright, alright. I would like to dedicate this song to all the modern mail-order brides in the universe who spend most of their time in internet cafes. I am thinking of the one who modeled a leopard-print one-piece bathing suit in Aldea's internet cafe. (Chuck, thank you for the story, and the subsequently hilarious mental picture.) I'd also like to send this out to the 50-ish old lady I saw in Netfinity who was aiming the webcam at her cleavage. Happy New Year and best of luck!

Snorkk

That's what I look like right now. Like a bloated, barrel-like... thing. I'm horrendous! Horrendous, I tell you. Someone has to cart me away to fat camp and make me sweat and toil. Shut up, I know I've been whining about the weight for ages. I seem to have literally gone hog wild this holiday season. Maybe I've been enjoying myself too much.

I keep saying this every year. Groan. Something has to give, seriously. I can't take being this fat anymore! Thank goodness there's only New Year's Eve to worry about and then it's back to the daily grind of work, pollution and self-imposed starvation - also known as my life in La Sugbu.

Narcissus

I have a new child. It's metallic and pink. It's sleek and sexy. It fits in my pocket. I have named it Narcissus - after the egotistic, self-loving Greek youth who drowned himself because his reflection couldn't love him back. (Yes, it's nutty like that.) Guess what Narcissus does? I'll give you an Oreo cookie if you get it right.

People think it's pretentious (Illi) or stupid (Alex) to name one's things. True, I don't name everything in my closet, but I do name the ones that actually have to work for me. As in play me my music and take my pictures. I think they deserve names.

Wait, this isn't fair to my TV and my DVD player. What shall I name those two? They're always the traditionally forgotten ones, like the broom or the airconditioner. Maybe because they stay at home all the time and never really tag along with me?


UPDATE: I've decided to give it a last name, just to shake things up. Therefore from here on out, it shall be known as: Narcissus Bellavista. And here's the picture you wanted.

Happye Holidayes

It's the holidays and I'm psyched to be out of the big steaming pot o' pollution also known as La Sugbu! Almost two whole weeks! Whee!

I'm back in my hometown of Dumaguete and so happy I could squeak. Actually, I think I have a few times. It's just so surprisingly good to be back. Something inside me has been clamoring for a taste of home - for the comfort food I love: my mom's squash con gata, mango ice cream sandwiches, buko pandan, macaroni salad, fried fish. Having fun eating bongkawil. For the activities I miss doing: going to the tabo just off the Provincial Hospital premises, buying 1/4 kilo of tomatoes for php8, buying a bunch of bananas for php22. Lee Super Plaza. Cang's. The 2-for-1 combos at the movies (right now I'm waiting for the Nights in Rodanthe/Star Wars: Clone Wars combo, it's coming soon at Ultra Vision). Driving around, using my brother's souped up motorbike. Wind in my face. 99% less smokers. Tempura nights. Sans Rival.

They aren't kidding when they say there's no place like home. For some reason, the longing for being home was sharper for me this year. It's good, getting to obey the call. Merry Christmas, everybody!

Aaah!

How did I miss this?! How? How? I'm racking my brain for reasons and answers... how could I have missed Simple Plan's latest album singles? Wiki tells me it's because it's mostly webcast, and I usually am online on weekends only. Yay! New Simple Plan material! This actually, shockingly, makes me want to go out and buy their CD.

I have a soft spot in my heart for Simple Plan. Partly because I enjoy their music - be it punk boy adolescent ridiculousness, or philanthropically driven, I love Simple Plan. It's also partly because Pierre, the lead singer, reminds me of Alex. Yay, Simple Plan! Looks like I found my soundtrack of the day.

Diva la 90's

Quelle surprise - in my quiet desperation I reached for some YouTube videos of vintage Whitney Houston before she turned into a crazy crack addict. And it worked! I'm a little bit happier now. I suppose this might be a temporary form of therapy.

Whitney Houston - It's Not Right But It's Okay
Uploaded by Dante35

I forgot how empowering Whitney used to be. Yes, it helps that a number of her hits have turned into gay anthems, which appeals to my inner fag hag. Beside her, Destiny's Child/Beyonce are second-rate, trying hard copycats. This is how it's done.

That just made sound like some superfierce queen idn't it? There's no hope for me, is there. Two snaps! Two snaps and an air kiss!

Some Mariah pre-boob implants and the ever-reliable Celine Dion also helped brighten my evening just a teeny bit. I love the nineties.

How did we go from the moving, stirring songs with meaning to the crap that just keeps playing on repeat these days? Songs used to have meaning. I'm a brainwashed consumerist, true - but the poppy "hitz" of yesteryear still hold a lot of substance even now, ten years later. This is it. Proof positive that we are all on the slow march downhill to Brain-dead City.

Not Connected

I'm tired. I woke up today and realized that I'm tired. It's a bone-deep, crushing weariness - it's like I'm numb to everything around me. Nothing is stimulating. Even grocery shopping, which is normally one of my favored pick-me-up-cheer-me-up methods of therapy doesn't seem to work. I just brushed by people milling around today, busy buying Christmas gifts, and felt detached. Maybe it's the Christmas season. Maybe it's everything. Too much time in this city deadens the soul - there's no soul anywhere to be had. There's no air to breathe.

I can't wait to go on the holiday break. I'd like fresh air, clear skies and tempura nights again. I'd like to be surrounded by simplicity. I miss being young. I miss my friends. I miss the innocence of waking up and knowing your future was ahead of you.

Sometimes I feel I think too much and do too little. It's my nature - I look before I leap, and sometimes I spend too long looking. I really need to pull myself up by the bootstraps, give myself a kick in the bum region and start getting with the program.

Crystal Bowling

Pacquiao will be President. This I foresee. His wondrous acts of punching and jabbing, and reputation as the giant-killer of boxing will propel him to the nation's highest honor: President. Leader of the not-so-free world. We elected an actor with not much brain power; we will elect a boxer with a little more brain power and lots of fighting power. He will punch through our problems. He will deliver us from oppression, depression, stagnation, corruption and sheer disinterest and apathy with his great uppercut!

Vote for Manny. You know it's going to happen. It's only a matter of time.

Now Playing

Britney Spears - Circus
Looks like Britney Spears seems to be on her way to recovering herself after the magnificently humiliating trainwreck that's been her life for the past few years. I still remember her as a bald loony attacking a car with an umbrella, but if she continues to release more good videos, hopefully our memories will fade.

All that being said, my Mnemosyne has another new song to chew on, and I'll probably play this into oblivion. I wonder what she did to get herself back in shape, but I'd like to have whatever she's having.



Rihanna - Rehab
I am also currently nuts about Rihanna's latest single; while I have nothing against the song, is it me or is she ubiquitous? How did this happen? The video looks like a photoshoot for some glossy fashion rag. Not sure how I feel about Justine Timberlakey's posturing in this one. He is forever having to make up for his years in a boyband. Like it was a crime or something. Seriously, Timberlake. Stop it.


Shontelle - T-shirt
Lastly, Shontelle's single brings out the emotera in me. This one is sweet, and I really have done this quite a few times. Just wore one of Alex's old t-shirts when I'm missing him. I can literally swim in them, and I love the scent he leaves on his shirts. Lame-o! I'm laughing at myself and my ridiculousness. Still, every diva/brat needs a soundtrack of the week, n'est ce pas?

Anti-climax

Yes, I saw the Twilight movie. Feedback, on Otap Vendored. Check it out now!

Introducing Otap

Behold! Our little project is up and running - the Chucky/Illi/Nikka baby - Otap Vendored! Not much fanfare for now, it's still very raw, but it should become a monster all its own in due time. Be nice, folks. It really is still a baby.

Click the link to get otap vendored.

The Power of Cheap

Visited CD-R King earlier, needed to get another bluetooth adapter. Looks like my store of choice is now everyone's store of choice. The moment we get wind of a place where everything can be had for much much less, everyone will flock to get their piece of the action.

It doesn't help matters that each CD-R King branch is so ridiculously small, it's the equivalent of a sardine can. Everyone's squashed in like a group of penny-pinching techie wannabes all clamoring for equipment. Yes, yes. Me included. I need my pennies.

Crowds tend to give me an almost uncontrollable urge to scream. Sometimes when I'm out on the weekends (bad idea, but I have no choice) and there's just way too many people, I have to quash an urge to give in to temporary insanity and just start screaming at everyone in the building. I have this fantasy of barreling through the crowds, swinging my handbag at everyone, making them scatter.

(Yes, I have weird fantasies. The above one ranks right beside my other fantasy of doing intricate ballet moves in front of all and sundry, during the customary 3PM prayer that always happens in the department stores. Everyone stops moving. I keep wondering what would happen if I suddenly pirouette and twirl around everyone on my tiptoes. Would they move? What happens if I suddenly grab a piece of merchandise and run away? Would they break tradition and run after me?)


Where was I? Oh yes, CD-R King. It has everything but the kitchen sink... in fact, if they had a kitchen sink that could be connected to your PC via USB, they would probably be selling it too. It's a playground. It's also very gosh-darned tight. They're making so much money, you'd think they could afford to actually expand. Oh wait, they expanded in the SM Branch. And they have the same ridiculous bottle-necked set-up, forcing everyone to step over each other just to get a number and wait their turn. It's a claustrophobic, cheap, irritating set-up that has to be changed! Damn you, CD-R King! Damn you for making me need you!

All the Wrong Reasons

Word on the street is that the Bratz dolls have been shown the door. A very angry Mattel has protested because (the profits aren't theirs) of copyright infringement, and have succeeded in getting the manufacturers of Bratz to quit selling the popular dolls.

I'm personally wishing it was for all the right reasons, e.g. because Bratz dolls are major sluts and it's just wrong to have a five-year-old dressing up a little doll that looks like a tranny prostitute. The moment Bratz came onto the scene, you know teenage pregnancy was going to go into an upswing. If our generation was shocked at how big Barbie's tits were and how small her waist was, and what this could potentially do to the future of society, she was nothing compared to these dolls. Barbie was simply the suggestion of sexiness. Bratz are sex incarnate. Not just sex incarnate, they're anorexic, self-involved, trashtastic sex objects that look like they're all ready to drop it like its hot and show their stuff on the pole. And this is what we're letting the kids play with these days.

But no, it's all about corporate greed once again. Maybe copyrights were infringed, but it just smacks of jealousy and sour-graping to me.

Labor Pains

I'm working on a new project with some of the people I hold most dear, and I couldn't be happier! It's going to be an insane mash-up of reviews and whatnot.

Keep checking back, we'll be putting it up very soon!

Co-Dependent

So I finally finished Down and Dirty Pictures: Miramax, Sundance and the Rise of Independent Film. By Peter Biskind, it's a long, chaotic, sometimes over-the-top read, with lots of interesting characters, soundbites, and way too many interviews. The movie business really is all for show, where people just kiss in public and look like they're all friends. This book is about the fracas behind the scenes.

Straightaway the limelight is grabbed by the gigantic Harvey Weinstein - whom the author presents as a chain-smoking, gutter-mouthed businessman who clawed his way out of the relative nothingness of Queens, and who believes all the hubris he spews about himself. The non-confrontational, passive-aggressive Robert Redford takes another prime role in the book, and he is pilloried as an irresponsible diva of an artist. Then there's Quentin Tarantino, who comes off as the world's greatest KSP, and Matt Damon/Ben Affleck, Kevin Smith, Uma Thurman... it's a famous cast with Miramax and indie films to thank for making them famous.

Don't read the book if you want to keep your illusions. Peter Biskind rips the cover off the business of producing and promoting movies, and shows you how crappy it really is underneath. Now all I can think of whenever I watch movies is how many scenes got left on the cutting room floor, who's fault it is it if it's so crappy, who had to be wined and dined to actually get the picture promoted. It's a shady business, all of it.

Or maybe it's just because this is a story about putting indie films on the cultural and consumeristic road map. It's also a chronicle of how offbeat, crazy, weird movies became a staple of our movie-goers diet, how we went from the feel good movies with happy endings, courtesy of major film studios, to the dirty, realistic view of the indie film and how, in the end, indie film isn't nearly as independent as it professes to be.

Hello There

You know Wolverine is a stocky, hairy, chain-smoking 5'3 X-man, right? Hollywood doesn't think so because Hugh Jackman is the guy who plays dear Logan on the silver screen. I initially protested this total bullshizz, because I'm a purist, the same way I protested Daniel Craig being a blonde Bond. And then I took a good look at the screen and all sound and fury faded away... sometimes, I'm easy like that.

Fishy!

What would I do without Miss Fritz, work's busiest queen of spam? Every now and then he sends something that just refuses to be ignored.

Too much time on your hands + deep suspicion that the matinee idols of the Philippines are very very gay = this:


Hahahah! This is what you get when you introduce Photoshop to the Philippines. We will immediately begin to eviscerate everything in sight.

Bonus homo-points if you actually get what they mean by throwing in "Mang Jupiter".

(Click on the pictures for a larger version).

Potterwatch

With all the latest hullaballoo over Twilight, how could this have been completely overlooked? This is looking good. Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince is my favorite in the entire series, so they better not eff this up or I'll throw my popcorn at the screen. Can't wait for July to happen.

Combat Boots and Literatura

Congratulate me! I now own a pair of black, knee-high combat BlackNoire boots. No, I don't know when I'm ever going to wear them. They're the kind of Avril Lavigne-esque footwear you'd wear with a pink/black goth-punk outfit, or an extremely short schoolgirl skirt with a white shirt and tiny vest. Alex says they're not age-inappropriate, but I do have a feeling I'm skimming the line somehow. Still, a sale's a sale. And it helped give me a better Sunday than I usually have.

I've also gone on a book-bender and now have two books: Philippa Gregory's The Constant Princess, which is the tale of the great Queen Katherine of Aragon - famously displaced by Anne Boleyn, the most infamous homewrecker of her time. It's probably the prequel to The Other Boleyn Girl, as it's by the same author. I haven't read it yet, I'm just starting on my other acquisition: Down and Dirty Pictures - Miramax, Sundance and the Rise of Independent Film. So far it's pretty interesting (I'm only in Chapter 1!). Will post more excerpts later.

Am not very sure where all this blatant consumerism has led me, and have taken to wondering if it's my way of getting over my latest birthday. The last time I formally celebrated a birthday was when I was thirteen. Formally means guests were invited, I had a cake specially made for my day and my mom made spaghetti and invited the Sumalinog man to come over and scoop ice cream for all of us. I eschewed the notion of all parties since, deeming myself "grown up".

It's ironic how we can't wait to grow up, and when we do, we wish we hadn't. Now that I'm older, I find I want to be twelve again. Have someone make a cake for me, sing a song, invite people. Do the whole spaghetti and lechon thing. It gets lonely being away from my family, and it sucks that my birthday had to fall on a work day. One should never have to work on one's birthday.

Still it was surprisingly lovely, and I got a number of good wishes and greetings, for which I am quite grateful for. The trainers (Ellice) bought me a tiramisu cake, which Darwin wouldn't touch ("I'll never buy cake for anyone again," Ellice grumbled) and we had a nice old time talking about things adults do to one another (gee thanks, Chrizzy). My "kids" sang me a song and we all had ice cream for lunch, so as a whole it made me feel better.

It just reinforced my latest realization that at the end of the day, it's the people who matter who'll be there for you. I also got greetings from around the world, which was really quite touching. It's nice to feel cared about, si?

Witty, Somber and Fun

There's always been something about Brit humor that appeals to me. It's quick, at times sarcastic, sometimes droll, and ultimately enough to make me roll on the floor laughing hysterically.

I have a new favorite movie - very 1994 of me, really - and it's British. Four Weddings and a Funeral, starring the always affable Hugh Grant who delivers wry little statements perfectly in whatever movie he plays. He's helped along by a very able ensemble cast who all have their little quirks but share a common bond: none of them are married, and all of them are good friends. They're married to each other, but they see so many others getting married, and it starts to chafe. They then start wondering if they'll ever have their own happy ending. They have hopes, yes:

Gareth:
A toast before we go into battle. True love. In whatever shape or form it may come. May we all in our dotage be proud to say, "I was adored once too."

Mostly they bitch at people in weddings.

Scarlett:
Oh, isn't she lovely!

Fiona:
Don't be ridiculous, Scarlett, she looks like a big meringue.

Directed by Mike Newell (Mona Lisa Smile) and written by Richard Curtis (Love, Actually), it's a gem I'm so happy to have discovered. It's a great movie - wonderful dialogue, touches of whimsy, a very emotional speech. It's like us at weddings: judgmental, emotional, full of self-doubt. I shed a few tears, but mostly developed a temporary six-pack from laughing so hard. Better late than never, I always say. And now for a proper touch of nostalgia, I present:

Ugh

I'm trying to blog but I can't concentrate because the girl beside me has the worst possible breath on earth. Smells worse than a canal, it's giving me a headache. The only time I have some peace is when she shuts her mouth, which is rare because she's too busy giggling and laughing at whatever it is she's looking at.

So how does one actually tell someone else that her breath is the bane of humanity? Her boyfriend must really love her. I entertained a two-minute fantasy of turning to her and asking her not to breathe. I couldn't do it. I'm a coward. Sob.

Not too happy about this latest development. I only get to blog every so often because work has me tied up and I (still!) haven't adopted a laptop, so weekends are pretty much it for me these days. God, I'm so tired of internet cafes. They're veritable havens of filth sometimes. If it isn't some aged 50 year old wannabe mail-order-bride pointing a webcam down her saggy cleavage, it's this.

I think this is a sign. I need to get on the wireless bandwagon and stop torturing myself.

Seriously Lying

It's that time of the year again - and yes, lying about my age is becoming more habit than inclination. I have days when I actually don't remember my real age. Which is good. I think.

Was planning to blog on about it, but don't quite have the time - I'm hopelessly busy whenever I have class. So, I would like to thank everyone who greeted me. I was touched that a number of you remembered. Much love to you all!

The Concerned Consumer

Choices, choices. It seems like only yesterday I was salivating over the Asus EEE. This was a short-lived love affair that didn't stand the test of time. I came to my senses and realized the EEE just couldn't cut it, I felt like a child when I did the Nikka Test™ on it. Too small. And by the way it's a good thing I didn't buy it then, because what was about Php16,000 is now Php9,999. Poor thing is getting kicked to the curb.

With new models popping up every which way it's a veritable gadget buffet out there. It's getting harder and harder to just find a model and settle down. One needs a connoisseur, someone who can read specs and not go loopy (the way I do - I know, it's pathetic). So I dragged Ramon with me yesterday for a little expert advice.

Has anyone ever heard of Lenovo? Or MSI? Is it snobbery to want a laptop that with good name-brand recall?

Yes, I think buying a laptop is like getting married. I don't intend to just throw one away the moment I get bored with it. It's still good money, and the idea of disrespecting the hard work that goes into earning the money sticks in my craw. (Ellice, Paulie and Darwin are rolling their eyeballs at me right now, I can feel it). So, yes. I want something I can live with for maybe the next 3-4 years, or more.

I have my eye on a number of brands right now, and will need to think this over. I'm obsessed, like that. And I think I may name it Asphodel.

We Won!

Here's a couple of homies just rollin along, having fun with slurpees and stuff. No, wait! This is the Democratic party a few hours after Obama's speech in Grant Park, Chicago.

Here's to a new America! Change has come.

Because We Only Have One

Why do we never have commercials like this?



Everything here is boring, spoon-fed caca compared to the ad above. Brava, Australia.

Remember When?

Got this from an e-mail, and just thought I'd share. Spoiler alert: non-native Cebuano speakers may not be able to relate. You've been warned.

---
(For the ones born in the 50's, 60's, 70's and early 80's)

First, some of us survived being born to mothers who did not have an OB-Gyne and drank San Miguel Beer while they carried us. While pregnant, they took cold or cough medicine, ate linunod, balikutsa, bukhayo and didn't worry about diabetes.

Then after all that trauma, our baby cribs were made of hard wood covered with lead-based paints, ang uban kay duyan nga habol gihigtan ug pisi nga inigtabyog ug kusog ma pakong intawon ta sa bongbong.

We had no soft cushy cribs that play music, no disposable diapers (lampin lang sa General Milling nga naa'y faded picture nga nag-salute), and when we rode our bikes, we had no helmets, no kneepads, wala pa gyu'y break ang bisikleta.

As children, we would ride in hot un-airconditioned buses with wooden seats (Bisaya Bus nga pultahan puros ang kilid, Corominas Bus nga senimana ang brake), or cars with no airconditioning & no seat belts (karon kay Minibus na nga nindot kaayo ug sounds or Ceres Bus nga bugnaw ug aircon).

Riding on the back of a carabao on a breezy summer day was considered a treat. (karon; ang mga bata wala na kaila ug kalabaw.

We drank water from the garden hose and NOT bottled mineral water sa Nature Spring or Viva, or Absolute Mineral water (usahay gani, straight from the faucet or poso or Tabay!)

We shared one soft drink bottle with four of our friends, and NO ONE actually died from this. Or contacted hepatitis.

We ate rice with star margarine, bahaw nga gibutangan ug asin ug mantika sa baboy, drank raw eggs straight from the shell, and drank sofdrinks with real sugar in it (dili diet coke or Pepsi Max), but we weren't sick or overweight kay......

WE WERE ALWAYS OUTSIDE PLAYING!!

We would leave home in the morning and play all day, and get back when the streetlights came on. Syatong, Bato-Lata, Bagol, Dakop-Dakop, Tago-Tago, Ngita'g Kaka.

No one was able to reach us all day ( wala pa'y uso ang cellphone) . And yes, we were O.K.

We would spend hours building our wooden trolleys (katong bearing ang ligid) or Karitong Kawayan nga karaang tsinilas ang giporma nga ligid and then ride down the street , wala ma'y gidungog nga naligsan atoh! After hitting the sidewalk or falling into a canal (sewage channel) a few times, we learned to solve the problem ourselves with our bare & dirty hands.

We did not have Playstations, Nintendo's, X-boxes, no video games at all, no 100 channels on cable, no DVD movies, no surround stereo, no IPOD's, no cell phones, no computers, no Internet, no chat rooms, and no Friendsters. ........ ...WE HAD REAL FRIENDS and we went outside to actually talk and play with them!

We fell out of trees, got cut, broke bones and teeth and there were no stupid lawsuits from these accidents. The only rubbing we get is from our friends with the words..sakit bai ? pero kung kontra gani nimo ang imong kadula... singgitan lang dayon ug..Mayra,Gabaan!

We played marbles (jolen) in the dirt , washed our hands just a little and ate Pan Bahug-bahug & Bagumbayan (recycled bread man diay to kay wala mahalin!) We were not afraid of getting germs in our stomachs.

We had to live with homemade guns (giporma nga kahoy, gihigtan ug garter ug lastiko) , saplong , tirador ug uban pa nga pwedeng magkasakitay. Pero lingaw gihapon kaayo ang tanan. We made up games with sticks ( syatong ), and cans ( Bato-Lata )and although we were told they were dangerous, wala man gyud to'y actual nga nabuta bah, bukol lang nuon sa agtang naa.

We walked, rode bikes, or took tricycles to a friend's house and knocked on the door or batoon ug gagmay nga bato ang bungbong, or just yelled for them to jump out the window!

Mini basketball teams had tryouts and not everyone made the team. Those who didn't pass had to learn to deal with the disappointment. Wala pa nang mga childhood depression ug damaged self esteem ek-ek ra na. Ang maglagot, pildi.

Ang mga Ginikanan naa ra sa daplin para motan-aw ra sa duwa sa mga bata, dili para manghilabot ug makig-away sa ubang parents.

That generation of ours has produced some of the best risk-takers, problem solvers, creative thinkers and successful professionals ever! They are the CEO's, Engineers, Doctors and Military Generals of today.

The past 50 years have been an explosion of innovation and new ideas.

We had failure, success, and responsibility. We learned from our mistakes the hard way.

You might want to share this with others who've had the luck to grow up as real kids. We were lucky indeed. And if you like, forward it to your kids too, so they will know how brave their parents were.

It kind of makes you wanna go out and climb a tree, doesn't it?!

---

The fact that I can actually relate to some of this gives me a warm, happy feeling. And then I end up hating time for never stopping. Oh and I was aces at piko and chinese garter, thankyouverymuch.

I Have A Dream (Remix)

Obama won!

I was literally glued to the boob tube yesterday, flipping madly between BBC and CNN - the polls, the pundits, the bitchfests. It feels almost too tired to even say it, but it was history in the making (they kept saying that).

I know it really was an historic event - first African-American in office - it felt strange to actually witness it. I was happy to be there to witness it live and in full color. I approved of McCain's concesion speech. To my mind, it was gracious and on point and actually a shade better than Obama's acceptance speech.

Was this how everyone felt during MLK's "I have a dream" speech? How can it be history when it's present-day? We could be preempting something. He was strangely grim. Almost as if something was weighing him down.

Happy it was Obama, though. Michelle Obama is still my hero. What happens to America will remain to be seen. Blingin' up the US of A, yo. Pimps n' Hoes. Bruthaz from otha muthaz. Giggle. I know, I know. It's not going to happen, the man is obviously educated, on target, the farthest thing from a hoodrat and his wife is not a shawty.

As for now, I'm riding the wave of euphoria.

All About Bajiggle

One last video for today, I promise! I promise. YouTube has its claws in me and won't let go. Anyway.

Presenting one of the choicest cuts of Tropic Thunder: Alpa Chino's Booty Sweat clip. It gave me defined abs for five minutes, I was laughing so hard.



This is a true homage to our current love of tits and ass in all music videos. Seriously, all music videos look the same now. Throw in a couple of siliconed cleavage and butt implants and you've got a music video. This used to be an art form. Now it's just condoned porn.

And Then He Bites Her

In keeping with my latest tradition of reading the book before watching the movie, I have currently finished horking up Twilight. Yes, the young adult novel by Stephenie Meyer that ostensibly took the reading public by storm in 2005. I know, was I under a rock in 2005? Why didn't I know about this? I've only just finished the first? Leave me alone.

So, I finished it in three hours. Then I put it down and started wishing the heroine was in front of me so I could slap her for being so incredibly silly.

I thought the whole premise was great, but the fact that the main heroine is 17 didn't sit well with me. What does anyone know about love in the time of cholera when one's 17? I can relate to wanting to be 17 forever. I can't relate to being sure about matters of the heart at that age. Yeah, maybe I'm the shallow one, whatever. I still don't see a 17-year-old making all the decisions the heroine does in the story.


I had definite pictures of the characters in my head, and now I'm wondering why they made Edward look like this in the movie:

He looks like he got attacked by two Ever Bilena salesladies. He probably also fell into a vat of Bench/Fix products while making his escape. This is not the Edward I had in mind. I'd rather take the shorter-haired brunette vampire. Anyway. Overall a light read, frothy fun and romantic walks in rain-wet forests, etc etc - it's like the love child of Sweet Valley High and R.L. Stine's Fear Street put together.

Now Playing

Here's Xtina using a tube of pink lipstick with Keeps Getting Better. I'm not too sure what the video is about, but I'm going with the idea of picking her Halloween costume. Or something. Videos these days just don't make sense anymore.

The Catwoman thing freaks me out, and it's all pseudo-Colin Farrell in Minority Report, but I like the song and I feel like posting videos out the wazoo, so here you go.

But Will We Like It?

I've always favored Dan Brown's Angels and Demons over The Da Vinci Code. I wanted a refund after seeing the movie they made out of the latter book. The bad news is, Tom Hanks still plays Robert Langdon in the movie. I hope they don't murder this one.

Mascot Porn™

Another gift from the gods! I have no idea who this person is, but I did get permission to use this. Can you feel the love in the room? Look at those glistening eyes. That sated smile. He has nothing but love for the ubiquitous mime after a night of passion. What a bottom. Ronald McDonald is totally saying "Yeah, that's how it is."

Armageddon

It's the end of the world as you know it.

Fertility! Hahahaha!

Fooled you. This is not by benefit of healthy sperm, much to your relief. I know Darwin actually shuddered when he saw this picture. It's simply a foreshadowing of what might be, with the help of Ellice's lucky travel pillow. Can you imagine? Of course it wasn't long before some of us had baby bump madness:

Behold, Miss Bugayong. She does look like such a pregnant lady in this one, doesn't she? Expectant and glowing. Such happiness. I saved the best for last, though:

Paulie, main pre-op princess of the tribe, gets in on the action. You're welcome.

Before/After

File this under: When child actors grow up. Somehow it just seems wrong to see this guy's cleavage. Especially when he used to look like this:

It's Jonathan Lipnicki. The kid in Jerry Maguire and Stuart Little. Happy 18th.

Sasha Fierce?

Beyonce now wants to be called Sasha Fierce. I'm sorry, hasn't this song-and-dance has been done before? Jennifer Lopez - J.Lo. Mariah Carey - Mimi. Most proficiently by Puff Daddy, who ended up so confused about what he wants to be called, he changes his name every week.

Besides, Sasha Fierce is way too transsexual. Why would anyone want to be called that? She sounds like a drag queen.

This reminds me of Chucky's tip #57: How to Make Your Own Drag Queen Name.

Steps:
1. Think of the name of a deceased pet.
2. Add the name of the street on which you live.
3. Voila!

Based on the above, my drag queen name would be Pam South Sea. Or technically I grew up in the Silliman Campus, so would that be Pam Campus? Not draggy enough. I used another road close to where I used to live.

I am... Pam Rovira.

The Cure to Sadness

What is it with large people and falling on your ass? This stuff never gets old - I laughed so hard I nearly choked at this one.

Depressed? Lonely? Busy trying to hitch the hemp rope around your neck to your ceiling fan? Stop and press play. The world will be all right again.

Smooth and Silky

Viva the mantyhose!

I know the ladyboys are crowing with delight. Gender equality! A new millennium! The age of mantyhose is dawning.

I'm all for innovation, but what would make a man want to wear pantyhose? I'd get it if he had excessive scarring and was incredibly vain. I believe the only time it's acceptable for a man to wear stockings is if it's on his head and he's robbing a bank.

True, they were the rage a long time ago - 14th century France, or some such. Men wore hose and white stockings. To war.

This takes the cake.

I'm not that comfortable with a lot of hair, but a nice delineation between the sexes is good for me, thank you. I thought they'd gone overboard with the female condom - guess I was wrong.

Want to get a gander at/buy/ogle/get mantyhose? Go here.

Role Models

Caught a little Larry King Live earlier on CNN, and I have decided that Michelle Obama is my new hero. She's smart, savvy, calm under pressure, and she's a great dresser. I say vote Barack Obama! If a man like that can choose a woman like that, it shows he knows how to choose. I admire Michelle Obama for being different from Hilary Clinton, in that she doesn't seem politically hungry. She's just there for her man, but she has her own thing going on.

They keep comparing Barack Obama to JFK - the charisma, public speaking, it's like deja vu. True, the man is a sharp dresser and a great public speaker, but it's his wife who's got my attention ATM - she seems to be the complete anti-thesis of Jackie Kennedy. Yes, the Jackie-O lovers will probably stone me to death on this one, but she was more about looks, and anyone who's ok with a philandering husband loses points in my book. Michelle Obama looks like she won't put up with any sort of bullshit.

I can't wax too poetic since I've never been the most political person on earth - I could just be buying into the hype. Still, she certainly sounds like she knows what she's talking about. Way better than Sarah Palin, too.

When I grow up, I want to be Michelle Obama.

Mascot Porn

It's been forever since Mascot Porn's made an appearance. This is why I'm thanking the gods for my crazy cousin Chuck, who's been way too busy molesting various statues in the city of Berlin.

Here's a refreshing way to start your day:

Apparently the bear above is "Buddy Bear" - Berlin's official mascot. All the nations who have an embassy in Berlin sent their interpretation of what a Buddy Bear should look like, and each embassy has a Buddy Bear standing outside their building. Way to show one's respect, eh? Too much lovin' in the house.


One should never forget to take a nice big bite out of a nice big wiener. Yes, I'm leaving it at that. What can I say, it runs in the family. Send me your mascot porn pics so I can post them! Email me at nikka.cornelio@gmail.com with your name and a little explanation, and I'll help you have 15 seconds of fame.

It Gets Better

And so, I decided to take a peek at the banned products that have melamine in them - it's still ongoing. Damn China. I know they're committed to eradicating overpopulation, but this takes the cake. They are messing with Snickers, and that is just not right. M&Ms is on the watchlist, too. Ugh. I thought these things were "Made in America"? They're what comes to mind everytime I see a balikbayan box. Aren't these things supposed to be manufactured in the land of the free and the home of the brave? They are so busted right now.

I feel helpless, and this makes me angry. Messing with the chocolates is just not right. Now comes this piece of news: China uses recycled used condoms in rubber bands! Multi-tasking - if you're in a tight spot and you haven't got a condom, use the thing that holds up your ponytail:











Ewwwwwwww. Ewwwwwwwww. Ewwwwwww.

If they're intent on wiping out the rest of the known world with this craziness, they're certainly on the right track. Lead in toys. Tupperware in milk. Dirty condoms as hairbands? This is literally below the belt. They have an agenda, people. They have an agenda.

"Backtrax" and Other Stories from the Tube

I've been spending way too much time in front of the TV these days, because I know that Cinemax plays Superman II way too many times. Christopher Reeves is the total hotness, but all those awkward air fighting scenes always make me laugh till I choke on my pork rind. Also, why does Lex Luthor (Gene Hackman) have hair? He looks like he has a dead animal on his head.

They also played The Bourne Ultimatum the other day, which was good fun. Joan Allen has the part of icy blonde power-broker down pat (she did the same thing in Death Race). Of course dollops of steel-jawed Matt Damon don't hurt either.

Myx Music has this show I always enjoy. They call it Backtrax - all the songs played are late '90s... I was enjoying it until I realized they consider the songs from my high school years as "classics". This is a dead giveaway for age. The classics they played before were Michael Jackson pre-100th facelift, Madonna pre-Kabbalah, Vanilla Ice and MC Hammer.

Now they're playing the songs from my youth. It's a kick in the proverbial arse, and a reminder that despite Botox injections, liposuction, breast augmentation and the two facelifts* I've had, I am an old crone. Eww.

* Projected surgery date: perhaps sometime in 2030

Look Ma, No Hooves

It's a good thing I read Atonement before I watched Atonement. If I'd watched the movie version first, I might not have bothered finishing it. Or I would have finished it and sat there with a huge "huh?!" on my face.

I like intellectual films, but I prefer not having to think too hard. I'm there to be entertained, not to entertain myself. (I suppose that's lazy consumerism, but there you have it.)

Anyway - Atonement. Ian McEwan's novel allows you to form an attachment to his characters - either you like them at first read, or you hate them with a passion. I'm not sure if it's his goal to make us dislike the idealistic, self-righteous, stuck-up protagonist, but I hated her at first read.

It's a pretty simple story. Boy likes girl, sister gets jealous. Boy gives girl randy letter, is stupid enough to ask sister to give letter to girl. Sister reads randy letter, finds an excuse to blame boy for something he didn't commit. Boy and girl don't end up together. Flash-forward to ten years later, boy and girl hate girl's sister. Girl's sister feels bad. Writes novel. Calls it Atonement.

If Ian McEwan didn't have the way he has with words, it would've been akin to a Dick and Jane book. As it is, he writes like a poet. Flowery, verbose, highfalutin. It makes the novel a haunting expose. A haunting expose that actually makes its way onto the silver screen pretty much intact; the movie is astonishingly faithful to the book, which was a pleasant surprise for me. It's a worthwhile movie and James McAvoy is in it.

Everytime I see James McAvoy I get reminded of Mr. Tumnus in the first Narnia movie (he played the faun). I keep wondering when I'll overcome that particular aspect. He was such a badass in Wanted, but I kept seeing goat feet and the fur on his chest.

From the heart

Alanis Morissette should get broken up with more often. I know that sucks and is a cruel thing to say, but it makes her write good music. Then again, is it all seen in a new light because her ex-fiance married Scarlett Johansson? I'd be depressed, too. Maybe I'd spend some time kissing my toilet seat, crying in a corner and chugging down some cheap-ass Antonov vodka. Yeah I'd punish myself too if I let someone like Ryan Reynolds go, and realize he did the rebound thing with a blonde, pouty-lipped owner of double D's.

Then I'd get up and release a new album called Flavors of Entanglement. I like that title. It stands out, like Jagged Little Pill did. None of that Under Rug Swept madness.

This came out a couple months ago but I only just uploaded it today. Mnemosyne must be fed.

This is the New Bond theme?

I thought Madonna had killed the Bond theme forever with her oeuvre for Die Another Day, but this is ridiculous. I love me some Alicia Keys, but this mash-up is a horrible slice of crap pie with chicken droppings on top.

Quantum of Solace had better be better than this effed-up excuse for a theme. There is a tradition to be upheld. And Daniel Craig is in it.

Yehey

Hellboy 2: The Golden Army finally made its way to La Sugbu's theaters. (I don't remember Prince Nuada ever getting half naked... maybe I should watch it again). Can't say it was something I will remember for the rest of my life, but it's pretty insane and Hellboy gets to hit a troll masquerading as a grandma, which is all sorts of wrong but really rather hilarious all the same.

A few things (probable spoilers included):
1. I liked Selma Blair's hair.
2. Barry Manilow makes an appearance! (His song does.)
3. Fish people have hearts, too.
4. Why didn't she just kill herself to begin with? I suppose if she did, there would be no movie.
5. Luke Goss keeps getting parts where he has to be in white-face. They did the same thing to him in Blade II. Stereotype!
6. I wonder what a Hellbaby would look like.
7. Would she have to give birth via C-section?
8. Guillermo del Toro sure likes creatures with lots of eyes. And horns. And teeth. Must see Spy Kids to see if he stayed true to form.
9. Prefer Liz Sherman's pyrokinetics to be blue. Much cooler.
10. The Bureau of Paranormal Research was channeling Grey's Anatomy.

Yes, I liked it. It was fun, mindless, ridiculous, non-stop action and the very thing to watch if you have nothing better to do and need to get over a snit fit.

Fine Dining

When they say sex sells, they're serious about it. I can't even begin. I nearly choked when I saw both these signs... do they even realize? Obscenity in public! Total hot mess.

Booksmut

It's been forever since I've had the pleasure of exposing a little Booksmut™ to the world. Dom's post reminded me I'm shirking my duties. We can't have that. The world needs to know the happiness that Booksmut™ brings!

... a little something for the ladies...

And the final coup de grace!*

* last picture courtesy of Judge a Book By its Cover

Fathetic

So yes, paperwork has to be done, people need to be told and ID's need to be changed. It's all a headache really, and goes to show you don't get married unless you really love the person, because it's a total pain in the backside to go through all the legalities of changing stuff. Still, one tries to find light in the darkest corners.

Behold, exhibit A. This is the SSS form used for updating one's status. (Tells the government you're married). Why did it catch my eye? Because of this:

HAHAHAHAH! "Defendent." You have to tell them if anyone is "defending" on you. It's juvenile, I know. But this is a government form! An official government form, everyone fills this out, it's standard across the nation. What, no one hit F7 for spell-check before taking this to the printers?

It's established. We aren't going to pot... we are IN the pot.

Tie-Ins!

Just got done reading and watching "The Other Boleyn Girl" by Philippa Gregory. It's escapist drivel rooted in real events, the romanticized vision of what possibly happened in the heyday of pre-Protestant England. It's very well-written, so well-written it's got some Anne Boleyn fanatics in an uproar, saying Philippa's gone too far with her description of Queen Anne as a grasping, ambitious bitch.

I watched the movie before I read the book. Eric Bana? Enough said. This is the cutest he's looked since Troy.

Up next: Atonement. I'm waiting for Abby to fork over her copy of Ian McEwan's story of love and passion, as well as the corresponding DVD. We're planning a drop; she gets my Boleyn book and the corresponding DVD as well.

Read the book, watch the corresponding movie. Or vice versa. I prefer to read the book first though. Source material should always go first. I did this for Lord of the Rings. The first Harry Potter movie made me want the series. I'm waiting for the J.R. Ward vampire romance series to hit the screen but I'll probably be 40 when this happens.

Here Ya Go

I finally got around to doing it! This is all I've decided to post, my Facebook is practically stuffed with more pictures. So yes to the waiters, see I kept my promise.