The Paostian Deal

We find the simplest of tasks immensely impossible.


We over-complicate some to the point of ridicule.


And we tend to prioritize the wrong-est of all things--or at least, keep thinking of Only One Thing.

Well I'll tell 'ya. But it's more like a confession...

I've been busy...

Very busy...

With photo shoots!

Hence some cyber silence. But feel absofuckinlutely free to use these pegs as desktop wallpapers.
Special thanks to Sergio's Studio and BKPena.

It took me long but at least now I know what tongues been wagging about. Call me a fashionably late-bloomer. Besides, my nerves need time to recuperate before I continue on my also-belated Lost journey. I've never really liked gossip, especially if it's not about me, but three episodes to Gossip Girl's first season, I became an instant monger fan. And you can be, too.





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Or just love the fashion, if not the overrated shallow plot. Hey, you were teens too. I hope GG lands one more season. Stars, from top pic, Leighton Meester, Blake Lively, Chace Crawford, shut-up-he's-my-new-surname Penn Badgley, Ed Westwick, Taylor Momsen, Matthew Settle and Kelly Rutherford.


Now go buzz! xoxo

Got the photos from here.

Oh yeah: Last weekend I did Part 1 of my annual room cleaning--Parts 2 and 3 come later in the year--and no it wasn't some figurative self-cleansing of sins in lieu of "Easter". I pay taxes and inhale second-hand smoke for that. My bedroom-cum-wilderness was just too messy even dust found it disgusting. And 7th Heaven was driving me nuts.

I even half expected to find relics of a dodo somewhere behind the TV stand. But, more entertainingly, I found two ticklers I used in college sleeping in a drawer I hadn't opened in four years. Make that discover, as I thought I'd stashed all schooling artifacts in my treasure cabinet long before I received my first official payslip.

I flipped and sneered and laughed. It's rather too soon, but I felt like I was thrown back to an ancient age. One thing you can be sure of: all people who use ticklers have flip sides. Flip-per, even. I always carried with me a tickler as a student, helping me keep track of life's chaos on one hand and keeping me breathing in dead-boring moments on the other. Leafing through those two even after just a few years was like reviewing a past life you both want to publish and burn to oblivion. Either way it's fun reminiscing. That's the best thing about annual cleaning--it's full of dirty surprises.

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1. I'm being kicked out of the house, I txt-d Friends after realizing after the 99th ding-dong that no one was home. Wait, let's be more accurate: They locked me out. At first I thought it was my siblings' evil plan to punish me. But why is it my problem that we never agree when it comes to fashion? I like drab and they like trash. At least mine are branded. Then I realized: it wasn't my siblings, but the people my siblings are seeing! I'm rarely a welcoming party--especially after midnight after coming from work, only to see that the house is only a pole away from being a toxic bar. They romanced their way to my sibs' nerves and brainwashed them to lock me out, which is frustrating because I've been rehearsing like mad to do just that to them. Damn!
2. Yet if it wasn't my siblings who'd planned stranding me to the gate, then who? I still have a month before my insurance fee lapses... And earlier that day I didn't glare at that fugly maid who does nothing but flirt with the village guard. I also forgot about nuking the neighbor's car altogether. Fuck, are Sarah Geronimo fan clubs after me again? Screw you, blockheads, rot, rot, rooooot!
3. I was doubly frustrated because I was already way late for a nightout. I was seeing Friends from high school and I couldn't take off without changing shoes. Then a phone call and a peculiar txt message: both from ancient exes. And both was inviting me to hook up. I know. I KNOW. WHY? What did I ever do to them? After everything, can't I just live in peace? What ever happened to "moving on"?
4. What's not clear to me, still, is why some girlfriends keep on treating their boyfriends' houses as a hotel. What, too comfy with the relationship everything begins to be conjugal while their men rent other private rooms behind their backs? Or were they kicked out of their houses because they sleep over in other houses too much? Lucky me then I only got locked out. And lucky me there's always just the two of us whenever I sleep over.
5. After three pitchers of Badboy I non-cautiously asked a friend about this gal whom I remember each time I see him. He just shrugged, and he grew silent. Oops. Then he said, "You know, she's still the one." Even the guy staring at me from the next table flinched. It's been almost eight years and "she's still the one", even though both of them have new attachments now. It may be from HS and quite laughable, but really, why does first love never die? Then again I too should know the feeling: Yellow Cab will never go bankrupt. Or any other pizza place for that matter.
6. Why was it titled "10,000 B.C."? Should have been "10,000 Brokeback". Watch it.
7. Why have we been so hard on Janina San Miguel? If a Venezuelan beauty queen struggles with her English in front of everyone, would we laugh and stab so hard too? After all, Manny Pacquiao did win that feather thingy in boxing. Can a Miss(ed) World crown be far behind?Why have we been so hard on Janina San Miguel? If a Venezuelan beauty queen struggles with her English in front of everyone, would we laugh and stab so hard too? After all, Manny Pacquiaodid win that feather thingy in boxing. Can a Miss(ed) World crown be far behind?
8. And why is it called "Featherweight"? Do you have to be super light to box? In that case I'm definitely never gonna enter any arena lest I go more anorexic than I already malnourished-ly am.
9. For a few minutes I stared at this... plant. It kept swaying to the wind, sometimes appearing to fall to the side. But the pot is broken on the other side, so it had already suffered its own Babel. Now the wind kept blowing and the plant was like teasing the wind to try harder, if not mocking it for its puniness. Moral: If you can't beat them, use an axe.

I balleted back and forth, in circles, in straight, zigzag and crooked lines. Attempted quintuple arabesques--upside down! Heck I even tried counting Mississippis. But all those ate only 15 minutes. And I felt my small intestine was already planning a coup with her big twin. Sank my firmness to a polka-dot monobloc chair--yes, a seat resembling a pimply, freckle-faced pubescent with chicken pox, and no, I took no pic. Instead, I have these:

That shell was lying in a corner by the gate. It looked old but was striking white--it lounging by the entrance makes me wonder how I never noticed I lived in the sea. The chair, like Marvin Agustin, was ick-ing me out, so I pranced away and picked up the molluscan apartment.

It was grand and silent at the same time, almost mesmerizing. I didn't know if it's real or not, but I was so admiring its beauty I wanted to take it to the neighbors--who just rammed up its gangster sounds to Everest levels--and have them lick it from end to end. And yes, you got me; I gave justice to hearsay and put the gaddamn thing near my right ear to let nature commune with me... I wanted to challenge the proverbial sound of the sea, after all I could use all the nature's calming I could get... Then the bonus: voices.


"Peter Piper picked a pecked of pickled pepper,
and a pickled pecker the pervert Peter already keeps."


"Pizza, pasta... pizza, pasta... pizza, pasta..."





HOLY SHIIIT OF OPRAH!

Unless some crapbag pieces it back together, that shell won't be whispering to any ear anymore. Ever.

Caught this pic on a random Friendster profile. But the account was restricted to VIPs so all I got was that the owner is based in Japan.

And the shoutout read:

"I'm losing you, I know it clouds are falling on my head and I'm holding on to memories gonna stitch myself to her threads."

I'm still decoding the message. But I'm so moved right now. Sigh.

1. The only way to understand a boss is through the cake he eats during a staff meeting. If he orders it all for himself, then the company is in good hands, for he doesn't need to suck up because the Advertising is doing a good job and his bank account is in the fag of health. If he distributes plates, then you know you won't be having a great weekend for the next 3 months.
2. As always, the only way to end a meeting on-a-loop is to say yes to everything.
3. An effective way to scare muggers away is to look like a hoodlum yourself. Just frown and think miserable thoughts, like the Malacañang.
4. The only way to enjoy Meet The Spartans is to not take it seriously. Seriously.
5. But if you plan to take it seriously, use a torrent.
6. If I will take the film seriously, I shall never look at pizza the same way ever again. Eww.
7. Step Up 2: The Streets has some fantastic street beats--but NOT the gangster boom-boom ones. The opening scene was fun. And that final dance under the rain was funtastic. One other way it's ahead its predecessor it that it has a better plot ending: Stay away from me you out-of-school youth freaks, I'm makin' out with a hot white boy now! Fab.
8. When latecomers barge in on the opening credits, looking for a 20-seat row in a regular theater for everyone to witness, take a deep breath, make sure you're heard within a mile-radius, and ask, "Are we in a coliseum?" Trust me, it works
9. One way to bring hilarious confusion back into your life is to hear a tricycle driver ask you, "Sa'n tayo, 'te? Ay--'pre? (Where to, miss? Err--sir?)" But if you get THIS in a bar, well, then...
   

The Vatican lists new sins to pay for. It highlights offenses against Mother Earth. I see galactic bans on Sarah Geronimo "songs". Woohoooooooo!

Plus, in the middle of the ruckus that is the Janina "Aha-ha-ha" San Miguel headliner, my favorite Melanie Marquez finally butts in. (The clip has horrible images, just pay attention to the audio.)

THEN, when I twirled on my storeroom of a desk, I saw this:


I knew this was going to be a fun week. :-D

Nothing like WWW bloopers to perk up your afternoon.

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Pete Rahon, a Pinoy currently staying in Korea, believes that "Filipinos are for real multi-lingual..." And I don't think anyone should contest, what with the Po-Opo (Hello po! Kumusta po? Ay, po, opo, ako po nga po 'yun po!), Me-U (Eat n b u? Eat me n rn e!) and the Ishuh a.k.a. Dumb Colegiala (Hello? Like, duh! Ano buh'ng shinabi kuh sha'yuh? 'Di buh shabi kuh you pick me up at 8? Sheven pa lang ah! You're sho shtupid ta-luh-gaaaa-uh!) Movements have taken leads among the Tongues spoken in the Philippines. (No, please don't try to get that last example. It may be strangely enjoyable, but it's fatal especially if you're non-innate.)

What we have, fortunately, is perhaps a new slang for "multi-lingual", courtesy of an online survey. It's smarter and less... rigid and scientific--hip, if the young-in-you likes:

Tagalong. We can't be certain, but perhaps there was no Filipino--or an actual linguist--among the surveyors to check for errors while they were drafting the thing. Or it's simply a misspelled word in an 8-year old survey. Or maybe there was an "expert", only that his knowledge stems from a traumatic experience in exhaustive Pilipino/Tagalog translations:

Désolé.
Patawarin mo ako.

Amigo!
Hoy pare, kumusta? Saan ang inuman? May chiks?

How dare you!
Ang kapal ng mukha mo'ng walanghiyang hayup kaaaaah!

Never forget the h.

One more good thing about the word is that it also connotes a most positive trait among one of the happiest people on Earth: the warm, forever welcoming camaraderie. Tag. Along. Filipinos are highly adaptable on one side and very much open on the other (which is a good thing, IF we're talking about taking in Change to improve lives). This leads to impeccably instant friendship no matter where either sprouted from. Sit with a Filipino for two hours then the only thing that would lack later is a blood compact--and you were only talking about peanut butter. Or Gretchen Barretto. Tag along. Very convenient too, if you think about it: Watch local shows and witness eternal remakes. Go to the local movies and you can occasionally feast on Filipinized Hollywood.

Tagalong. Reality is one smart ass.

Another effective-slash-bit icky marketing.

Goo. Eruption. Vanilla...

Large. To. The last. ... slurp.

It's how amazing how such few words could almost mean Doomsday.

It's like you're sentenced with eternal halitosis--It's All Over. You try to run and look for answers in other places, e.g. net cafes, but all the time you dread going back and facing the painful reality. Not to mention accepting the truth that you, a non-geek moron, simply ran away fearing the oh-too-much dilemma. Even asking Why would also mean mustering the most unbreakable courage to hear the answer: Your connection package sucks, time to updrage, bimbos. It's humiliating and very much draining.

Shudder. Be careful whom you depend your life on.

Grabbed those from Stylehive. They're pegs from an ad campaign by Belgian fashion designer Diane von Fürstenberg who became American in 2002, a year after she married media Goliath Barry Diller. I don't know her, but supposedly it's her grand comeback after the re-launch of her clothing line in 1997. The images simply looks pretty, especially on the white space here. Joining her in the campaign--which can be called cost-cutting when discussed here in Manila--are French artist François-Marie Banier, Russian model Natalia Vodianova and American advertiser David Lipman whose comment on the DVF-Banier project I find so anti-Adobe but nice altogether:

"In this world of plastic surgery, with so many images in magazines that are so retouched, to go in the opposite direction and show the soul of a woman is the most beautiful thing I've ever seen in my career. It's aggressive and strong in the most elegant way."

After a writer's strike, that can potentially spark a... make-HOLD-up. (Boink!) Imagine the extra space in photoshoots... and three more pizza boxes!

Click on any pic to see more preview of DVF's campaign. (I'd LOVE to write with a paintbrush.) And don't miss the video! It has a strangely-nice track like a mix of Amelie, Poltergeist and The Others that's somewhere between haunting and calming.

Each time somebody says "kumakain ng oras", I always run vivid pictures in my head.

And it looks like I'm right. Sorta.

If you see a bigger one, with spoon, fork and knife as hands, please please please give me a ring.

And the Xio is back.

Not with his mind, though...

But with magazine covers!