Thursday, October 1, 2009

Catastrophe







Never have I felt so safe in the comfort of my home. As floodwaters swooped in on a sleepy Manila I was jolted into reality by the images of people stranded atop their roofs, corpses of people and animals littered the murky waters, buildings, roads and vehicles torn to bits by the rush of floodwater. It made me realize how incredibly fortunate I am to be with my family, with our home intact, away from the catastrophe that is Ketsana.

To Jacque something: Get down from your moral high horse. Nobody deserves to live through the tragedy of losing loved ones. You are not a saint because you happened to be somewhere far when Ketsana happened to pass by Manila, you're just one lucky bitch. But next time, maybe you won't be as lucky and I sure as hell hope for your sake that you don't go through the pain that the victims went through when they lost their homes and their families.

No more bad vibes from now on. This blog has got to live up to its name. Pigs are happy and ridiculous. Life is too short for the catastrophes and the Jacques of the world.

The victims need the following:

1. Food (preferably packed in biodegradable materials such as banana leaves Chuvaness recommends purchasing from Binalot)
2. Potable water
3. Medicines and first-aid kits
4. Warm Blankets
5. Clothes
6. Toiletries
7. Sanitary Napkins
8. Diaper
9. Tetanus toxoid vaccines
10. Breastmilk (Diarrhea is a big problem in the relocation camps)

Let's not forget that the animals need all the help they can get. Please send in the following:

1. Cat and dog food.
2. Cages with roofs
3. Warm blankets

PAWS is located in Katipunan. Call 475-1688.

You may send in your donations to Luca located at the Powerplant Mall and you may send in funds through this site. Donations can also be made via SmartMoney (5577-5144-1866-7103) or
GCash 0917-9751092.

Those interested to volunteer with the Red Cross can call the following numbers: Pasay (02) 8542748, 4343751; LasPinas (02) 8734873, 4689688; Pasig (02) 6350922; Alabang (02) 8093132; Manila headquaters (02) 5245787, 5270864.

Monday, September 14, 2009

Veruca's List: I Must Must Must


Have this dress. It's imperative.









From Christian Siriano's fall collection at NY Fashion Week.

Thursday, August 27, 2009

Sartorial Imperilism



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So sorry, I have not been updating this sad excuse for a blog in quite a while. The last post was a rant and I don't want to leave things on a sour note. Many things are currently keeping me busy. Will try harder to post regularly. Meanwhile, I know everyone's been secretly fantasizing about being shot by the sartorialist. Here is a pretty helpful algorithm for y'all.

This month I have....

1. Gotten myself a pretty decent job.
2. Quit the said job due to shamelessly indecent monetary compensation.
3. Met a great guy. See photo below.

4. Realized the great guy is and will always be gay.
5. Realized once again, that this will not stop me from loving him.
6. Deluded myself into thinking I can make him want tacos instead of wieners. My taco, in particular.
7. Accepted the cold hard truth that the great guy is allergic to tacos.
8. Gotten myself into a same sex relationship with the aforementioned great guy. And no, we are not having sex. Pathetic, I know.
9. Received my first paycheck.
1o. Discovered that the anticipation of getting my first paycheck felt much better than the real thing.
11. Discovered a truly reliable shipping service and will be making future transactions and purchases soon.


Ponder this, Why the fuck are there so many gorgeous gay men? Is this in order to spite women? Is gay the new black? I've heard Chuck Bass will kiss a dude in the 3rd season of GG, what the manolo blahnik is going on with the world?

Thursday, August 20, 2009

The Apple That Fell Too Far From The Tree

They call it keeping up with the Jones's. I call it my great misfortune. There are days when I wish I could untangle myself from this web of lies my whole life has been entwined on. For the people who know us, we are happy. My father is the life of the party, charming and gregarious. His wife, obedient and dutiful stays at home to watch over the kids. And the kids, attractive, smart and well-behaved never get into trouble. They meet me, recognize my family name. Their eyes light up. I come from a wealthy family, good genes, good track record. They look at me and think, she'll do well. After all, the apple never falls far from the tree.

This is one of those days. I am torn. When you have lived with tragedy for so long in your life, it becomes the norm. Then you get tired of being miserable and angry all the time, so you find the ridiculous. You laugh until you run out of air. It's like your life has become this one big joke and you finally get it.

I am torn between anger and boredom. Nothing has changed. Everything is in its place. There's mom ever the martyr, hoping and praying things will get better. There's my sister who thinks she isn't good enough, my brother who is mad at the world. There's me who knows that someone else's child will always be better for you. Then there's you dad, the kid with the magnifying glass lighting up an ant hill.

I'm tired and bored. I know I will never be good enough for you. And I just don't give a fuck anymore. I can live without you. My life would be much much better without you. So why don't you save us all the trouble and get it over with?

Tuesday, August 4, 2009

Hannibal Lecter's Beauty Secret


Yes folks, I'm not shitting you.
What a way to scare off that annoying neighbor's child.

Wednesday, July 8, 2009

Tears, hair wax thievery and suddenly missing the ex

Sup, Betches?


What a week.

 It's sunday night and I feel drained. I need something to perk me up bad. I've just began my training as a volunteer nurse. Any feverish anticipation I might have felt these past few days for my upcoming training was completely overshadowed by the dread and the panic that swiftly crept up my neck. The Visayas Mindanao Debate Championship (VMDC) is highly anticipated by debaters, adjudicators and debate enthusiasts from Visayas and Mindanao. This year my univ was given the honor to host the 3rd VMDC. My best friend and I had been planning last year to join as a team. After the November Board Exams I researched about various topics to prepare for the tourney. I missed debating. I spent the past year studying for the board exams. My life was a tedious cycle of study-lecture-study-exams. We were housed in a beach front dormitory. TV and internet access were banned. We were basically locked up for two months in a boot camp. 

 Anyways, The VMDC is slated to take place two weeks from now. Debaters from the other schools were beginning to become agitated. Invitations had not been sent, specific dates were not posted. We were thrown into a harried frenzy. Our very unreliable adviser was suffering from a bad case Procrastinator's syndrome. nothing at all was done. Dear Manong and I decided to take the matters into our own hands. We set up meetings, established working committees, designed logos, built linkages. Each minute was golden. 

 In the other side of things, the nurse in me was experiencing a different kind of frenzy. My unruly thick black mane refused to be tamed. It was my first day on the job and I did not want to disappoint. I was in a hurry, I had to be at the hospital at 7.45. It was now 7.30 and my hair was sticking out in ll directions. My saving grace finally came in the form of my brother's tub of hair wax. It was a men's hair product, aptly named 'Master'. And it was surprisingly good for a cheap hair product. My thick strands were held firmly in place without the slick wet look. I was pleasantly surprised to be assigned to the Hemodialysis Unit. While the rest worked in pairs, I was left to fend off by myself. 

 I enjoyed working in the HDU. The staff nurses were very supportive and accommodating. I was not given a moment to feel out of place. The machines looked very complex, I was afraid to even go near it, so I did the next best thing. I asked a load of questions. And my questions were sufficiently responded to. I easily became familiar with the routine and dynamics in the unit. My shift ended at four. 

 I fell instantly asleep after dinner, my day was busy and exhausting. I stayed up late at night to watch MJ's memorial at the Staples Center. It felt strange, I missed him like a brother. The past few weeks since his death were a little difficult for me. I couldn't imagine a world without him. I've always been a big fan. I remember being three years old, scrawny, wide eyed and awestruck. My mum was a big fan of his and we had this old betamax tape of his music video that I loved to bits. I'd watch it all the time. I forgot the title of the song but I still distinctly remember being fascinated by the animation and the graphic work. He was riding this amusement park type ride and all these weird things surrounded him. I remember the mouth shaped tunnel. It was tongue in cheek and I lapped it up. I remember attempting to moonwalk and failing miserably. When he came to the country for a sold out concert, I went ballistic. I couldn't believe he was in my country. I grew up knowing there was no better entertainer than Michael Jackson. And now at twenty one, I realize how true that is. I stayed up until 4 am to watch his memorial. I was an utter mess, just sobbing my heart out in the middle of the night. 

 I went to work the following day looking harassed. So sorry have not been posting much, currently very busy. I will try to post more often this week. I suddenly miss the ex. Wonder why this feeling is suddenly dawning on me. Didn't shed a single tear when we parted ways. Now I miss him, his stubble, his scent, his skin, his eyes, his hands. Is this some sort of delayed reaction? has my sleep deprived brain gone haywire? Now I am missing him, and I'm horny. But will definitely not go there, sex always complicates things. He was a good boyfriend, and I want it to be the last thing I remember from our relationship, sex will drive us both mad. Will leave everything in its proper place. Me and my space, he and his hibernation. Maybe it isn't him I miss but the sex? Was that stupid facebook quiz right, after all? Have I become the female equivalent of Barney Stinson? All this time I thought I was a Carrie and at times, a Charlotte. Am I secretly and truly a Samantha? 

 Have I been delluding myself into thinking I want a good relationship, not hook-ups, not flings, but a great happy secure relationship with a nice sensible man. Dear God, Am I in it for the fuck? Have I inherited my father's horndogness? *shudders*

 Too tired to ponder. Maybe will reconsider while bathing tomorrow. I always think clearly when I am at the bath. Meanwhile, is it wrong to fantasize about a priest? Am I committing some mortal sin I am not aware of? Will I be eternally damned?

The priest is the president of my univ and he is wickedly gorgeous, clever and articulate. I caught him stealing a few glances last night during practice. Felt strangely tingly. Must avoid, will definitely be eternally damned.

Tomorrow I'll be on duty at the intensive care unit, dear God please do not let any of my would-be patients die on me. 

 

Tuesday, June 30, 2009

The Little Move


Bob Fosse (An American musical theater choreographer/film director who won an unprecedented eight Tony awards for choreography and direction) as the Snake in The Little Prince (1974). An adaptation of Antoine de Saint Exupery's The Little Prince. MJ's inspiration for his very famous move the moonwalk, as well as his trademark white socks on black leather shoes. 



Saturday, June 27, 2009

Forgive me Father for I am about to sin











I'll be sure to bring an apple to mass.

Photos By
Piero Pazzi

Friday, June 26, 2009

The Murder at Swan Lake

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Was just a dream.

Photos By
Jeff Bark

Gone too soon


Michael Jackson will be remembered, most likely, as a shattered icon, a pop genius who wound up a mutant of fame. That's not who I will remember, however. His mixture of mystery, isolation, indulgence, overwhelming global fame, and personal loneliness was intimately known to me. For twenty years I observed every aspect, and as easy as it was to love Michael -- and to want to protect him -- his sudden death yesterday seemed almost fated. Two days previously he had called me in an upbeat, excited mood. The voice message said, "I've got some really good news to share with you." He was writing a song about the environment, and he wanted me to help informally with the lyrics, as we had done several times before. When I tried to return his call, however, the number was disconnected. (Terminally spooked by his treatment in the press, he changed his phone number often.) So I never got to talk to him, and the music demo he sent me lies on my bedside table as a poignant symbol of an unfinished life. When we first met, around 1988, I was struck by the combination of charisma and woundedness that surrounded Michael. He would be swarmed by crowds at an airport, perform an exhausting show for three hours, and then sit backstage afterward, as we did one night in Bucharest, drinking bottled water, glancing over some Sufi poetry as I walked into the room, and wanting to meditate. That person, whom I considered (at the risk of ridicule) very pure, still survived -- he was reading the poems of Rabindranath Tagore when we talked the last time, two weeks ago. Michael exemplified the paradox of many famous performers, being essentially shy, an introvert who would come to my house and spend most of the evening sitting by himself in a corner with his small children. I never saw less than a loving father when they were together (and wonder now, as anyone close to him would, what will happen to them in the aftermath). Michael's reluctance to grow up was another part of the paradox. My children adored him, and in return he responded in a childlike way. He declared often, as former child stars do, that he was robbed of his childhood. Considering the monstrously exaggerated value our society places on celebrity, which was showered on Michael without stint, the public was callous to his very real personal pain. It became another tawdry piece of the tabloid Jacko, pictured as a weird changeling and as something far more sinister. It's not my place to comment on the troubles Michael fell heir to from the past and then amplified by his misguided choices in life. He was surrounded by enablers, including a shameful plethora of M.D.s in Los Angeles and elsewhere who supplied him with prescription drugs. As many times as he would candidly confess that he had a problem, the conversation always ended with a deflection and denial. As I write this paragraph, the reports of drug abuse are spreading across the cable news channels. The instant I heard of his death this afternoon, I had a sinking feeling that prescription drugs would play a key part. The closest we ever became, perhaps, was when Michael needed a book to sell primarily as a concert souvenir. It would contain pictures for his fans but there would also be a text consisting of short fables. I sat with him for hours while he dreamily wove Aesop-like tales about animals, mixed with words about music and his love of all things musical. This project became "Dancing the Dream" after I pulled the text together for him, acting strictly as a friend. It was this time together that convinced me of the modus vivendi Michael had devised for himself: to counter the tidal wave of stress that accompanies mega-stardom, he built a private retreat in a fantasy world where pink clouds veiled inner anguish and Peter Pan was a hero, not a pathology. This compromise with reality gradually became unsustainable. He went to strange lengths to preserve it. Unbounded privilege became another toxic force in his undoing. What began as idiosyncrasy, shyness, and vulnerability was ravaged by obsessions over health, paranoia over security, and an isolation that grew more and more unhealthy. When Michael passed me the music for that last song, the one sitting by my bedside waiting for the right words, the procedure for getting the CD to me rivaled a CIA covert operation in its secrecy. My memory of Michael Jackson will be as complex and confused as anyone's. His closest friends will close ranks and try to do everything in their power to insure that the good lives after him. Will we be successful in rescuing him after so many years of media distortion? No one can say. I only wanted to put some details on the record in his behalf. My son Gotham traveled with Michael as a roadie on his "Dangerous" tour when he was thirteen. Will it matter that Michael behaved with discipline and impeccable manners around my son? (It sends a shiver to recall something he told Gotham: "I don't want to go out like Marlon Brando. I want to go out like Elvis." Both icons were obsessions of this icon.)  His children's nanny and surrogate mother, Grace Rwamba, is like another daughter to me. I introduced her to Michael when she was eighteen, a beautiful, heartwarming girl from Rwanda who is now grown up. She kept an eye on him for me and would call me whenever he was down or running too close to the edge. How heartbreaking for Grace that no one's protective instincts and genuine love could avert this tragic day. An hour ago she was sobbing on the telephone from London. As a result, I couldn't help but write this brief remembrance in sadness. But when the shock subsides and a thousand public voices recount Michael's brilliant, joyous, embattled, enigmatic, bizarre trajectory, I hope the word "joyous" is the one that will rise from the ashes and shine as he once did.



 -Dr. Deepak Chopra


Your tennis is too hot




Marat Safin


I'll gladly let you play on my court. 
And you will not be penalized for grunting, swearing and uhmm... moaning.


Thursday, June 25, 2009

A Walk in the Clouds

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Have you seen my Childhood?
I'm searching for that wonder in my youth
Like pirates in adventurous dreams,
Of conquest and kings on the throne...



Michael Jackson
1958-2009


Stuffing

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Well, well, well, look what we have here.

Unchained Melody



Sexiest PETA nudie ever to hit the billboards. Sorry Khloe. 
You may be curvy and sexay, but this dude's got nice pelvic bones.



Wednesday, June 24, 2009

Heaving Bossoms


 "I will take you, I will bring you to unbelievable heights of ecstasy, on one condition. 
Tell me, Swear to me my love, that I am sexier than that despicable Jack Sparrow."



"Oh my darling. I am in the middle of a bromance. I'm afraid I cannot bed you tonight."


I may be no Gerard Butler, but my loins are on fire for you Cara.


"Haven't you heard Belinda? I am gay, oh yes I am! 
We can never be together for I am madly in love with your brother!"

Meanwhile, where is Fabio?

Tuesday, June 23, 2009

Shoelust


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Hello Lover. 

Stills

Photobucket1. What is your name?
2. What is your favorite food?
3. What is your hometown?
4. What is your favorite color?
5. What is your favorite movie?
6. What is your favorite drink?
7. What is your dream vacation?
8. What is your favorite dessert?
9. What is one word to describe yourself?
10. How are you feeling right now?
11. What do you love most in the world?
12. What do you want to be when you grow up?

Monday, June 22, 2009

Wonderful

Johnny Depp as the Madhatter


Helena Bonham Carter as the Queen of Hearts


Anne Hathaway as the White Queen



Tim Burton's Alice in Wonderland will open on March 2010. Mia Wasikowska will be playing Alice. I've always been a huge fan of Tim Burton since I first saw Edward Scissorhands. Photos from the set are available on the net and the whole production looks absolutely stunning. I for one, cannot wait to see the movie.

Sunday, June 21, 2009

Friday, June 19, 2009

Just D'oh It!


 

I'm normally not a praying man, but if you're up there, please save me Superman.

I'm having the best day of my life and I owe it all to not going to church!

I'm not a bad guy! I work hard and I love my kids, 
so why should I spend half my sunday hearing about how I'm going to hell?

I've always wondered if there was a god--now I know there is--and it's me.

But Marge, what if we chose the wrong religion? 
Each week we just make God madder and madder.

Hey Flanders, it's no use praying. 
I already did the same thing, 
and we can't both win.

The lesson is : Our God is vengeful! O spiteful one, 
show me who to smite and they shall be smoten!

A big mountain of sugar is too much for one man. 
I can see now why God portions it out in those little packets.

If god didn't want me to eat in church, he would've made gluttony a sin.

Jesus, Alla, Buddha ... I love you all!

God is teasing me! Just like he teased Moses in the desert!

I felt a surge of power, like god must feel, when he's holding a gun.

Dear Lord.. The gods have been good to me. For the first time in my life, everything is absolutely perfect just the way it is. So here's the deal: You freeze everything the way it is, and I won't ask for anything more. If that is OK, please give me absolutely no sign. OK, deal. 

Lisa, if the Bible has taught us nothing else, and it hasn't, it's that girls should stick to girls sports, such as hot oil wrestling and foxy boxing and such and such. 



All my life I've had one dream, to achieve my many goals. 

 want to share something with you: The three little sentences that will get you through life. Number 1: Cover for me. Number 2: Oh, good idea, Boss! 
Number 3: It was like that when I got here. 

Trying is the first step to failure.

Kids, you tried your best and you failed miserably. The lesson is, never try. 

Maybe, just once, someone will call me 'Sir' without adding, 'You're making a scene.' 

If at first you don't succeed, give up.

Beer: The cause of, and solution to, all of life's problems. 

If something's hard to do, then it's not worth doing 

When will I learn? The answer to life's problems aren't at the bottom of a bottle, they're on TV.



[Meeting Aliens] Please don't eat me! I have a wife and kids. Eat them! 

What do we need a psychiatrist for? We know our kid is nuts. 

I am 26 hours late for work.
 No time for Maggie.

Kids are great, Appu. You can teach them to hate the things you hate and they practically raise themselves now-a-days, 
you know, with the internet and all.

It's not easy to juggle a pregnant wife and a troubled child, 
but somehow I managed to fit in eight hours of TV a day. 

Marge, it takes two to lie. One to lie and one to listen.

Son, this is the only time I'm gonna say this. It is not okay to lose.

Just because I don't care doesn't mean I don't understand. 

Marge, it's 3 AM. Shouldn't you be baking?

Lisa, two wrongs DO make a right!

I think the saddest day of my life was when I realized I could beat my Dad at most things, 
and Bart experienced that at the age of four.

Ahhh...sweet pity. Where would my love life be without it?

Marge, don't discourage the boy! 
Weaseling out of things is important to learn. 
It's what separates us from the animals! Except the weasel. 

The strong must protect the sweet.

Marge, you're as pretty as Princess Leah and as smart as Yoda.

Quiet you kids. If I hear one more word, Bart doesn't get to watch cartoons, and Lisa doesn't get to go to college.

The code of the schoolyard, Marge! The rules that teach a boy to be a man. Let's see. Don't tattle. Always make fun of those different from you. Never say anything, unless you're sure everyone feels exactly the same way you do. What else...

I will live to be 42. Oh, only 42 ?!? I won't even live to see my children die.

No, no, no, Lisa. If adults don't like their jobs, they don't go on strike. 
They just go in every day and do it really half-assed. That's the American Way.

Well, it's 1 a.m. Better go home and spend some quality time with the kids. 



I'm never going to be disabled. I'm sick of being so healthy. 

I like my beer cold, my TV loud and my homosexuals flaming.

All my life I've been an obese man trapped inside a fat man's body.

Television! Teacher, mother, secret lover. 

And there's nothing wrong with hitting someone when his back is turned.

Ah, TV respects me. It laughs with me, not at me!

Rock stars... Is there anything they don't know?

Getting out of jury duty is easy. The trick is to say you're prejudiced against all races. 

Son, when you participate in sporting events,
 it's not whether you win or lose: it's how drunk you get. 

If something goes wrong at the plant, blame the guy who can't speak English. 

They took the foam off the market because they found out it was poisonous, 
but if you ask me, if you're dumb enough to eat it, you deserve to die.

I think Smithers picked me because of my motivational skills.
 Everyone says they have to work a lot harder when I'm around. 




Old people don't need companionship. They need to be isolated and studied so it can be determined what nutrients they have that might be extracted for our personal use. 

Dad, you've done a lot of great things, but you're a very old man, and old people are useless.

Now Bart, since you broke Grandpa's teeth, 
he gets to break yours.

Remember that postcard Grandpa sent us from Florida of that Alligator biting that woman's bottom? That's right, we all thought it was hilarious. But, it turns out we were wrong. That alligator was sexually harrassing that woman. 

Kids, if he (Grandpa) starts acting weird, lead him down into the basement.


How is education supposed to make me feel smarter? 
Besides, every time I learn something new,
 it pushes some old stuff out of my brain. 
Remember when I took that home winemaking course,
 and I forgot how to drive? 

No matter how good you are at something, 
there's always about a million people better than you.

[Looking at a globe map...country being Uruguay]
Hee hee! Look at this country! 'You-are-gay.' 

'To Start Press Any Key'. Where's the ANY key?

All right, brain. You don't like me and I don't like you
let's just do this and I can get back to killing you with beer.

Oh well, of course, everything looks bad if you remember it. 

Relax, what is mind? No matter. What is matter? Nevermind.

Oh, people can come up with statistics to prove anything, Kent. 14% of people know that. 

Operator! Give me the number for 911! 

This donut has purple in the middle, purple is a fruit.

I'm in a place where I don't know where I am.

There's a New Mexico?!?

Bart, with $10,000, we'd be millionaires! We could buy all kinds of useful things like...love! 

The sun? That's the hottest place on Earth.

Pffft, English. Who needs that. I'm never going to England.

Shut up, Brain, or I'll stab you with a Q-tip!

You'll have to speak up, I'm wearing a towel.

All right, let's not panic. 
I'll make the money by selling one of my livers. 
I can get by with one.

I hope I didn't brain my damage.

Heh Heh Heh! Lisa! Vampires are make believe, just like elves and gremlins and eskimos!



Spring/Summer Must Have: Fugly friends



Israeli ad agency McCann Digital launched the "Get An Ugly Girlfriend!" site in Hebrew and English along with a Hebrew-only facebook group to promote the fruit-flavored alcoholic beverages.

The site suggests that like Bacardi Breezers, ugly friends come in several different varieties and women can use them to appear more attractive in social situations. 

How terrible are these ads? Pure bad taste. Usually liquor ads are drenched in misogyny but this is just ridiculous. What made these people think putting unattractive women alongside vile descriptions in their ads will draw hordes of women to their beverage? Wow, these ads just scream desperate. I cannot imagine how these models could muster the courage to pose for the camera on an ad that fondly describes them, She's "97 kilograms of femininity, strength, and double chins." There's also Lucy, who's "rubbing thighs...and drooping breasts will turn any trip to the mall into an unforgettable experience." Stupid ad.

They market it like it's the newest beauty essential. The "Ultimate" concealer, if you must. Want to look prettier? get an ugly girl friend! Not. Fucking. Funny.

Want to distract them from your cottage cheese stuffed thighs? Bring Sally!

Want to cover up those those dark under eye circles? Bring Lucy!

Get an ugly girl friend!