Mwahaha… I’m not completely undesirable. Just got home from the Gay Pride party in Malate and I was actually groped and mildly harassed. And I’m not complaining. Wow, it was awesome, being in the company of people whom you know won’t discriminate you. People who have the same struggles as you do. And people who happen to like hot guys too. Just realized now that the phrase, “Gay Pride Day” isn’t politically correct. What about lesbians? Bisexuals? Transexuals? Transgendered? And anyone who just might be in-between?

It has been years, and I mean years, since I’ve been to Malate, and it hasn’t gone that bad as other people have described it. Although I haven’t been to Eastwood, therefore, I can’t compare the two, Malate is still pretty decent. Or is just the party.

Like I’ve mentioned in previous entries, this is my first Gay Pride Party. A stage was set up at the center of Nakpil Street (at least somewhere there) where half-naked guys in jeans, towel and boxers gyrated to dance music. On the projection screen, they were showing previous Miss Universe, Miss World and Manhunt International contests.

Later, we checked out Pride Exchange, where you can find vibrators, penis extenders, lingerie and other really interesting stuff. My jaw dropped when I saw VHS tapes of previous Miss Universe pageants. I’m a big fan of said beauty contest. You have to understand, I have a desire to be a woman. Anyway, what was more amazing was that they even had videos of the Miss Venezuela pageant. Didn’t get to buy anything though as my budget wasn’t exactly flexible.

There were quite a lot of hot guys too. Too bad, I never got any digits. The people who groped me were either just passing by or on the way to somewhere else. Besides, I didn’t really flirt or make goo-goo eyes with strangers. I’m still feeling a bit depressed over certain events that have happened the past week.

Ooo… John Hall was there!!! I saw my beloved there! At the Gay Pride Party. Too bad, he was with a friggin bitch. Argh.

I’m feeling better now.

It's been a slow day so far. I'm here in SM Megamall, burning the time away as I wait for friends. They should be here in an hour (hope so), or else... I was planning to just lock myself up in the house until tomorrow, in which I might be off to Malate for the Gay Pride Parade. Haven't been to said parade ever... shame on me. But actually, I'm not gonna go rally tomorrow, but rather, catch the party later at night. It's been a bad week and I was really keen on hibernating, then go and party afterwards.

But I felt that there's no use being a rock. Might us well be cheered up in the company of friends. Hence, I'm here. It's been a long time since I did this actually. Pretty nice feeling for some reason. Except that I'm quite paranoid, thinking that someone behind my back is watching everything I do/type in here. I can't even open my email which has sexy pics on it (hehe). Anyway, more later...

* * * *

Just got home. Still feel sad and lonely.

He was born in Minnesota. He spent his childhood in a farm, milking cows and running the bulldozers like any other guy belonging to a hardworking American family. He was proud of the fact that McGyver was from Minnesota too, and we’d roll our eyes whenever he’d tell us this because we never saw the connection.

I met him through my friend Pooh, who was part of their organization that is devoted to evangelizing UP students. I joined this group not because I wanted them to bark Bible passages at me (which they never did) but because they were pretty cool people to hang out with.

The first time we met, he read out a verse from John: “For God so loved the world that He sent us His only begotten Son.” Then he asked me questions, all related to this one verse. I looked at him blankly, my eyes looking really sleepy, before they darted towards Pooh for having me dragged into this. After a minute of silence, he answered his own questions, closed the Bible and we talked about ourselves for the next hour.

I was always amazed at his Bible. It had a note on its first page that was dated October 4. He said it was given to him as a present by his college bud. I said I was born that day. He was also amazed by this, and that was the end of one of our casual conversations.

That same year, during my birthday, he was the only one from UP who greeted me.

I always complained about how serious he was. But apparently, it was only an impression. Because he tried to be funny. He tried hard. He introduced me to the video series, Veggie Tales, in which animated vegetables reenact scenes from the Bible. We used to hang out in his living room, watching those videos for hours. And he was always there. Despite the number of times he has seen them, he was always there laughing with us.

Two years ago, we went on a trip in a camp in Laguna, where people have been seriously injured because coconuts hit them directly on their heads. Being the funny guy that he was, he created a photo essay. He was walking happily along a trail when a coconut fell on his head, knocks him out and gets instantly killed. In the last shot, he is covered with a white blanket and we were grieving beside him.

I can’t get that picture out of my mind now.

Last December, during the Christmas season, we had to bid him goodbye. In a case of misdiagnosis at a local hospital, Craig found out rather too late that he had lung cancer. Stage 4 lung cancer. Two weeks before that, he was told he only had pneumonia.

From pneumonia to cancer. In a span of two weeks.

And he was still being goofy and funny. And this time, he wasn’t even trying. He was calm about the whole thing. Three days later, he was back in the US to seek treatment.

Sorry Craig, I’ll never get to tell you about my travels again. About Cebu and Palawan.
I’m sorry that I rolled my eyes at you. That I campaigned for you to win in the category Corniest Person during our Christmas Party, and you actually won.
I’m sorry I never got to send you even a single email. I never knew how to start it. If it was proper to ask you how you were feeling when I knew you were on chemotherapy.
I’m sorry that I never got to tell you I was gay. I remembered the time you told me about your college bud and how he told you he was gay and your friendship, or the lost of it, changed.
And I’m very sorry I never got to greet you on your birthday.

I hope you forgive me and I’ll see you there in heaven.

Thank you nocturnal angel, my boss and my chief. The perfect girl friend, my best friend. The only woman whom I’d allow to dominate me. You wear the pants most of the time*. And I have no problems with that.

*from Alanis Morissette’s Are You Still Mad (Supposed Former Infatuation Junkie, album)

* * * *

Sorry. That was quite a lot of expletive in my recent entry. I’ve realized that to explain how passionate I am about the subject, I should’ve put it this way: Accusing me of plagiarism is like accusing me of getting a girl pregnant.

I went to the office earlier this afternoon, feeling really perky and just plain happy for the good rest I’ve had this weekend. My smile was up to my ears and I even bought some Mcdo sundaes for some of the guys in the office. The moment I got inside the lifestyle office, I saw our lifestyle editor and 2bU! chief huddled together, looking at an article I wrote two years ago..



“Someone wrote in saying he wrote this article word for word,” our editor said. Then she showed me a letter addressed to her, coming from the purported writer of my article. It says:



“... I would like you to note that your newspaper featured me and my other hobby two years ago (please refer to page CA, Wednesday September 13 2000). This particular item was written by myself word for word and not by the claimed author.”



Word for word. Claimed author.



My blood pressure shot up and I just started shaking. Even now, seeing this fucking letter, remembering all these fucking details, I can’t stop shaking. Because of anger. Because of frustration; I can never stab him with a kitchen knife for what he has accused me of – plagiarism.



Two years ago, I was assigned to do a series on serious pet owners. The asshole who accused me wrote an email to say he’d like me to feature him and his dogs. I was rather desperate that time because I had no one else to feature. So I accepted his offer.



We got to his house and he never showed up. Apparently, the asshole is a busy person. So the photographer and I took pictures of his dogs, and I asked the asshole if I could just interview him through email. He agreed. I wrote the article, quoted his statements and led an unblemished career for two years.



Until today.



Apparently, he wrote the letter because he wanted to become a lifestyle writer. “I am writing to you in the hopes that somehow or someday my thoughts would be published for all to see,” he pleads in his letter. “With enough experiences to cover a lifetime of stories, theories and insights all vacuumed into my writing and painting, I would like to offer my services to your paper.” He then rambles on about his accomplishments and how most of his works are unpublished. But not contented with that, he decided to impress our editor, thus alleging that he actually wrote that piece – that fucking article that was all about him and his fucking dogs (that probably fuck him in the ass anyway).



After explaining that I wrote the article myself (“he wrote that here!” our 2bU! chief even remembered), our editor immediately called the asshole. She asked me if I wanted to talk to him myself afterwards, but I couldn’t. I was still trembling with anger and my vocabulary had been reduced to ‘asshole’ and ‘fuck you’.



A few minutes later, the fucking asshole answered, and our editor explained that what he wrote in that letter was a serious allegation, and would even be investigated.



“So you stand by your allegation?” I heard our editor say. Then later, “Oh, so he attributed your statements to you?” Then even much later, “So he quoted you?” More moments later, the call ended.



The fucking asshole retracted the lie that he wrote. And I never heard it, never heard if he said sorry or if he was apologetic about it. Never heard anything that would make me feel justified, redeemed or unblemished. Anything that would make me feel happy again.



I am a writer. I know the word ‘plagiarism’ since grade school. I know the word by heart. Everytime I buy books on grammar and English rules, the first thing I read is the section on quoting and footnoting; the difference between paraphrasing and actual plagiarism. Despite my migraine-inducing experience with Blogging and HTML, I forced myself to learn how to put links in order to give credit to the blogs that I’m going to be quoting and get ideas from. But despite my efforts, some egocentric jerk, who probably never considered the efforts of other people, went on and accused me of something that I’ve always abhorred.



May he turn into the person whom he has always hated.

I got home completely drunk and wasted from last night’s Fete dela Musique in El Pueblo.

Not even drunk yet, I found myself in an orgasmic and sensual experience – being squeezed on all sides by really cute and sweaty guys on my way inside Tequila Joe’s. Then inside, after only 1 ½ bottle of alcohol, I was already dancing wildly to reggae music. I was shouting my “I love you’s” to Myra Ruaro and even screaming that she makes me want to be a man. That thought now brings shivers down my spine.

After getting out of that bar, I downed another bottle, and I found myself head banging at this warehouse where they were playing (gasp) rock music.

That was so not my territory.

I felt all eyes were on me as I went up the steps leading to the place. After all, they were all in black, if not half-naked, and I was in white. Plus my look that night didn’t spell rocker at all. I was wearing this low-cut chino with nice dainty embroidery at the neckline. I was feeling pretty that night, definitely not rocker material.

But anyway, I still walked on, and when I got to the door – wham! The smell and heat from the inside knocked the drunkenness out of my senses. Then I saw more half-naked guys with pretty good build, sweating and jumping up and down to Sandwich, whose hot vocalist, Marc Abaya, was also half-naked like most of them. Absorbing all these, I quickly entered and savored this first experience of mine. I’ve never been to a rock concert, much less see Marc sweating it all out as he moaned and gasped for breath.

Later, after an attempt to stalk Illac Diaz, as well as this guy in blue who seduced me by dancing sexily at my right, my friends and I decided to call it a night.

Damn. This piece looks like shit. I better get more sleep.

* * * *

Duke Kim, whose website I discovered through nocturnal angel has a quotation that just made a profound effect on me: Jealous of the rain because it has direction

I am speechless.

Aaaah… I feel so good. Just took a long bath after a really exhausting day. We just started what we hope to be our flat makeover. Changed the color of our vinyl tiles to white marble. Which meant having to carry this really heavy box from Ace Hardware on the basement floor of SM Megamall to the taxi stand outside of building B. Then having to inhale rugby fume while we all cement the tiles to the floor. Now we just have to pick-up all our mess and do some general cleaning (all over the house). The last time we did that was when we moved in, which would be 2-3 years ago.

I am so not looking forward to that.

* * * *
However, what I’m really excited about is my date with Pammy and all my other friends for tomorrow’s Fete dela Musique at El Pueblo. This will be the first time I’d be able to attend said yearly festival. After that, we might be off to Eastwood in Libis, which I’ve never been to, ever. Yes, that’s right. I’m supposed to be the youth’s lifestyle correspondent and I haven’t been to Eastwood.

Shoot me.

P.S.

Oooh... you know what really made my day? Abu Sabaya, that pig that always has shades on, spokesperson of the Abu Sayaff, supposedly died during a sea encounter with the Philippine military. The governement stressed, and they better be sure, that... that pork, got shot and fell to the waters. They say it's just a matter of time before his bloated body floats to the surface.

I'm sorry God but I really do wish he is in fact, dead. Just the thought of it brings a smile to my face.

It's scary but I'm just being honest.

Saw Sum of All Fears today. Imagine Ben Affleck as an undercover CSI agent, who speaks fluent Russian and Ukrainian. That is hot.

My friends and I were supposed to watch Scooby Doo, if only to finally figure out whether or not blonde works for Freddie Prinze Jr. But we stumbled on our former classmate, Dave, and he told us that the movie was so bad he slept through it.

Besides, Ben has a better (way better) acting track record than Fred.

Movies I’m looking forward to seeing:

1) Changing Lanes – Ben and Samuel L. Jackson (there seems to be a Ben Affleck film festival. He’s got another one due out, this time with Luke Wilson)
2) Life or Something Like It – Angelina Jolie
3) This Jennifer Lopez flick I forgot the title of.

I finally had the time to search google for Calvin Klein's not-so-latest controversial ad. Happy and Tammy told me all about it last week, when they got the shock of their lives when they saw new CK hunk Travis Fimmel in his underwear (of course not in person, but in a Details ad). They were scandalized because he was apparently too blessed.


I checked out http://pobox.upenn.edu/~davidtoc/images/ck.travisfimmel3.jpg and yes, he's pretty loaded. And I also learned that this ad had to be pulled out of some of London's busiest districts because apparently, most motorists had the tendency to slow down going past the ad. And in New York, men have started complaining because the ad made them feel inadequate

Imagine, a 22 year-old guy so hot he builds up traffic and make men have low self-esteem.

That is really one powerful dick

I have been following the blogs of what I would now refer to as my "blog goddesses" and I can't help but feel that my life is boring.

Take nocturnal angel for example. She's feeling really guilty about this torrid kissing (nyahahaha) she did with a guy friend, who in turn wants to have a relationship with her, which, in another turn, is making her feel oh so uncomfortable because they're supposed to be just friends and why did she agree to kiss him in the first place. Plus, people have started to think that she’s an alcoholic (repressed laughter).

On another side of Manila, pile o’smeg is hated by someone “up there” what with the erratic schedule, questionable revised GE program and some 3-4 students who begged for a slot in her class (should be flattering). The challenging life of a UP professor, ladies and gentlemen.

My new discovery, renaissance girl is being bugged by a certain um, Tang E. Na (I have yet to know the history behind this guy), who apparently doesn’t just has a small dick by Pinoy standards (shucks, that is really, really small), but a low EQ as well.

So, it takes a kiss, a teaching position and one idiot to spice up some things around. I think I’ll go for the first option.

Completely went out of my mind yesterday in Glorietta and just went all-out shopping. I had just read Sophie Kinsella’s Shopaholic Abroad (the sequel to Confessions of a Shopaholic), in which a financially-challenged financial adviser describes her all-out shopping experience in New York. Sophie is so good in this whole describing process that I had to restrain myself from buying plane tickets bound to NY (right, as if I can afford them). She had me itching to shop. That was three days ago, and yesterday, when the opportunity finally arrived, I just followed my itch and scratched my wallet to death.

Besides, it has been years since I’ve had a completely new wardrobe. I’ve been wearing the same clothes over and over again. I can’t even determine where most of my pictures where taken because I look really the same in all of them. Plus, I’m “decluttering”. I’m going to sort out my room and closet, get rid of the things/clothes I haven’t used/worn for years and just clean up. Your life is supposed to get better afterwards.

Honestly, we all need a better a life.

* * * *

Saw Magkapatid yesterday which stars Sharon Cuneta and Judy Ann Santos. I like Sharon and Judy Ann is supposed to be a really good actress so my friends and I decided to check the movie out.

They play sisters who are really close to each other, even literally since they live across each other. They have kids, two from Juday and one from Sharon. That was Sharon’s last because she already had a hysterectomy (I hope this is right). But then a series of events lead the two characters to slap and hate each other later on. Pretty simple.

So what was with the clothes?

Okay, they were actually good. But too good. It felt like we were seeing a fashion catalogue for the summer collection of SM Department Store. The characters wore these pastels that were too color-coordinated with each other. Fine, it looks good on screen. But thing is, they all looked like they all shopped in one store. Plus, they didn’t say much about their characters.

Sharon and Christopher de Leon, who plays her husband, undoubtedly acted the best in this film. I wasn’t really impressed with Judy Ann’s because it looked like she has done too many tearjerker movies that she was just breezing through her lines and acting. Dingdong Dantes meanwhile, looked really cute. Plus those biceps looked real yummy.

Gad, I am now a cannibal.

Anyway, the script could’ve been way better as it was too plain and boring. There are a number of dragging scenes and I just felt bad because Sharon and Juday could’ve selected a better project. Nice cinematography though.

Absolutely funny. You won't believe what people typed in google's search engine that had my page crop up in the search results. Here are a few examples:

1) "John Hall underwear" (shet. someone else is after my John)
2) "gym gay bulges" (hmm... interesting fetish)
3) "gay depression"
4) "Wendel Ramos"
5) "Assunta de Rossi"
6) "whitening dark underarm" (what the F?!)
7) "gay model with underwear"
8) "Likas Papaya"
9) "Karylle"
10) "Ryan Rexona" (huh?)

and about 20 more others that involve the keywords: "Bench", "underwear", "fashion show", "one night only" and "Richard Gomez".

Discoveries such as this is what makes me addicted to blogging. Hehe

Aaaahhh... Work is finally over. Although I didn't write any article today, I still feel tired nevertheless. Haven't been sleeping well the past week, usually staying up till 5-6 A.M. to surf the internet, blog and do naughty things (hehe). Yesterday, I watched Episode 1: The Phantom Menace for the second time and found out that it was actually pretty good. Storyline was decent. Besides, I have the hots for Liam Neeson and Ewan McGregor, whom I really adore in Trainspotting. Although that young Anakin Skywalker irritated the hell out of me; he's too American.

I was also aghast to discover that I am now addicted to blogging. I went home Sunday to my parent's house, where there is no PC. One hundred percent of my thoughts were in blogging: How do I improve this, What do I do with that, Shall I add a tag-board, etc. And I just couldn't wait to get back here and do more stuff.

Except that I haven't done any new stuff.

Darn. I really feel sleepy now.

* * * *

Have gotten my paycheck for the month!!!! Yipeee!!!!!! Mwahahahaha.. Off to Glorietta later. I'm still deciding whether I'd save up or splurge on stuff. Saving up would be very ideal but is no fun. I think I'd splurge. That is the only way I can be naughty.

* * * *

It's the middle of June and I haven't dated anyone yet. AAAAAAHHH!!! Okay, relax. Anyway, I'm supposed to be in the "dating scene" exclusively for research purposes. I know that men can be a headache (hey, but I am a man), but I think it'll be fun. Now, if only I know where to look...

Where do I look?

Darn. I don't even know where to start...

I did get to see the Bench underwear fashion show last Friday. I was with Happy and Tammy and a few other friends. I wasn’t really expecting anything special. I was there to snap myself out of depression. Oh, alright. I was there for the yummy half-Brit, half-Filipino Bench underwear model, John Hall. If you happen to pass by South Super Highway, he’s that guy in the billboard that openly seduces you with the full frontal view of his crotch, right near the first tollgate.(see John Hall)

The Araneta Coliseum was decently filled and I swear, more than half of the population there that night were gays. As Tiff, one my companions said, “What would straight guys do in here?” (Apparently, as proved by the show later on, they had reason to) Sure, Assunta de Rossi was there and 49 other female models. But the male models numbered to 150 (Okay, knowing this already had me out of depression). Plus, my crush of the season, Carlo, was one of the models.

After about two hours of delay, the show finally opened. We were right beside the catwalk, which was rather too close for comfort since it was elevated and quite long. The lights were turned off except for one spotlight.

And then there was shrieking.

“Why the hell is someone shrieking?”

And then another. After yet, another.

“Why on earth is everyone shrieking?”

Then, like a revelation in the darkness, I saw them. Twenty men came right through the exit and they inched their way towards the stage. Forget about Bench underwear; these guys were butt naked (The last time I saw naked guys that many were during the Oblation Run in UP).

They covered their thingies with one hand, and what seemed to be bananas. As to what the profound idea behind that concept was, I had no idea. After a few seconds later, my expert eyes zoomed in on one guy.

Shet. Si Carlo.

Six months of infatuation with the guy quickly went down the drain.

After that, was the actual underwear show, where really tall girls and really hot guys paraded down the runway. Of course, there were also the celebrities. You’d easily know if it was their turn to show off when the audience goes, “Aaaaaaaaayyyyy!!!!!!!”

“Aaaaaaaayyyyy, si Wendel Ramos!”
“Aaaaaaaayyyyy, si Diether Ocampo!”
“Aaaaaaaayyyyy, si Assunta de Rossi!”
“Aaaaaaaayyyyy, si Richard Gomez!”
“Aaaaaaaayyyyy, si John Estrada!” (What????!!!)
“Aaaaaaaayyyyy, si Jomari Yllana!”

Jomari Yllana. Why the hell do you look like a porkchop?!

More briefs and bulges later, I suddenly came to full attention (I may be gay, but too much men in briefs can actually be… too much. I began to have a headache, with my head going left to right as if I was watching a tennis game). Tammy pointed at TV host Marc Nelson. “Um, okay, not exactly my type,” my reaction told her. “Nooo, tignan mo!”

OH (pause) MY (pause) GOD. Marc Nelson had a raging hard-on. As to how I personally knew this, it was because the moment he entered the stage, I already looked at it as I did with the other models, and it wasn’t that pronounced. But at that moment, it was a different matter.

Marc apparently has a thing for exhibitionism.

Later, the girls came out with no top at all, and one girl was obviously very uncomfortable. I saw her mouthing the words, “Hindi ko yata kaya, “ over and over again to the other model beside her. Wilma Doesnt, the diva that she is, sashayed down the runway with no hints of inhibition.

Then more briefs, more bulges, blah blah… John Hall in thongs, blah, blah… Lucy Torres in a wedding gown, wherever that came from, blah blah, more of Jomari and his porkchop appeal, blah blah… and it all ended.

My headache had gone up to level 4.

Overall, the show was…. umm… okay. Sorry, but I just couldn’t bring myself to use the word, “great’. Must’ve been John Estrada. Oh well…

* * * *
Happy Father’s Day!!!!!! (do fathers, at least the Pinoy ones, actually blog?)

I had been looking forward to yesterday because of the Bench fashion show, plus I’d get to be with Pammy, Tammy and Happy. I woke up yesterday afternoon to find my cellphone teeming with messages. When I got to my last one, which came from Ryan, it said: “Uy, punta tayo kila Del mamaya. His dad passed away.” I was stunned. Medel is not just a former acquaintance. He is a close friend of mine. And so is Ryan. And for him to text it to me like that is like being slapped in the face by a stranger while you’re just walking around somewhere. Come to think of it, the feeling is ten times worse than a slap in the face.

I’ve always thought about things like this. Who among our parents would be the first to go? Who among us in the barkada would move on to the after life first? The unique thing about us is that all our parents are still living together; no one has separated or divorced. It was a pretty cool fact. But not anymore. Reality has struck. Not only are we getting older, but also our parents. And they’re dying on us.

I cannot force myself to think that once again in the future, something like this will happen to one of us. To me. I swear, I am not ready to lose my family. Thinking about it makes me hyperventilate. Thinking about it makes me want to go ahead of them. My sister told me the same thing earlier. She said she prays to God that she may be taken away first than the rest of us. I told her it was selfish of her.
“How could it be selfish when I pray for you to have a longer life?” she reasoned. “Because you’d rather that we feel the pain of losing you,” I told her.

I should now. I sometimes think of the same thing.

Death I think is selfish. Life, even more. I cannot bear myself to think that God has something to do with this. Hiram natin ang buhay natin sa Diyos. We owe our life to Him. It’s true I know. But reality, once it hits us, becomes more powerful than faith and love. It takes time before it begins to sink in, and we once again embrace our beliefs.

Earlier, at the wake, I told Del that my other friends were offering their condolences to him and his family. “Um, how should I reply when people tell me ‘condolence’? Should I say thank you?” he asked me.

I told him I didn’t know. And I certainly do not want to find myself asking the same question. Please God, not yet.

Darn. Have spent the entire afternoon on the Internet. I'm starting to get hooked on this stuff again. That is just so bad.

Tomorrow, I'll be watching the Bench underwear fashion show. Hope I get a good seat. Don't know yet if I'm gonna cover the event from backstage, where, as Tim says, I get the opportunity to see what's beneath the underwear. Hmm... Actually, I'd prefer to watch the show with the audience. It'll be so much less stressful

Finally, my PC is fully fixed. Have downloaded audio drivers, so now I can fully enjoy my video and audio settings. If in the future, you need to download a particular driver, check out driverguide.com. It practically has all types/brands of drivers, and you don't have to be redirected to another site. Plus, their search engine is pretty good.

Also, you may want to check out this personal homepage of a former classmate, "Squid" at www.lout.htmlplanet.com. It's still new, but it's pretty decent.

* * * * *

So now, summer is officially over, despite the horrendous weather. All of my friends are back in school. Yep, I did not enroll this semester. It's true what they say. Once you've started to taste like how is it to earn money, you just don't feel like going back to school again. Ram (you're such a good friend) called yesterday to ask if I wanted him to process my papers for me. But I just wasn't motivated enough, so I just thanked him for the concern.

I know, I can be pretty stupid. Boink in the head.

So my entire semester won't be wasted, I promised myself to really hit the gym this time. Afterwhich, I'd be a modeling project case of Pam and Tim. I leave everything else up to them.

hmmmm... it's 5 AM, June 12. Happy Independence Day!!!! Hurrah!!!!!!
Humph. Right.
Um, throw tomatoes at me for all you want, but this day feels nothing special to me. It's like, "Yehey, it's June 12, let's go to Glorietta!" And that makes me feel bad in a way. It's nice to see other nations, say England for example, that are totally proud about their heritage. The anniversary of the royalship of their queen was reason enough for them to go out to the streets and celebrate. Here the People Power Anniv barely get people to celebrate... what more an "ordinary" holiday like the Independence Day.
Reminds me of how, during our centennial celebration, the government kept boasting of the fact that we'd be spending for fireworks during the parade. How it would highlight the celebration.

Great. The highlight of 100 hundred years of blood, sweat and tears is a gadamn fireworks display. How pathetic.

Took another test, this time, I discovered through twistedinthemiddle.com/ellen/

17

I act like I'm 17.
This test was brought to you by Melissa - No, really.... Take it here.

OH ... MY ... GOD.
Actually, I'm not surprised... 17=21

Just took this test, which I got from dementia.digitalrice.com, another blog journal.






Find your Role-Playing
Stereotype at mutedfaith.com.
[Angel.]


It is not my main concern to be better than everyone else. In fact, I have a low self-esteem. Besides, I didn't answer "walkin in and out of a magic portal" in the first question. Hmm... but anyway, I like the idea of being a demi-god. It sounds so hot....

Have finally finished installing the "video card". It's been almost eight hours since I started looking for and downloading the damn thing. I'm not stuck with 16 colors any longer. Thank goodness. But there's still a problem. I don't have any sounds. Practically searched the whole wide world web but didn't get to find a compatible sound driver. Ugh. I think I gotta sleep. It's already 8 A.M. This is not good for my skin.

* * * * *

Plans for today, Saturday:

1) Sleep (Most likely to last till 3PM only)
2) Catch up on emails
3) Download fave hits, including Winamp
4) Watch Sex and the City re-run
5) Gorge on food (Haven't been eating lately. Am sure to have lost another 6lbs darn it!)
6) Attempt to do push-ups.

AAAAARRGH!!!! Darn it!!!!!!! Couldn't possibly do # 3 because of nonexistent sound card driver. Great.

* * * *

Okay, I'm a bit bothered. My friends and I (4 gay men) were in Starbucks earlier last night when we got to sit across this large group of gay men (around 6-7). Of course, we all just had to measure each other up, with secret glances being thrown off all over the place. Most of them were actually okay-looking, but that's beside the point. Anyway, we got to stay there for like three hours, and guess what? Every cute guy that went past our table was gay. Cute guys of different types - matinee idol, gym buff, jologs-looking, artsy-fartsy, conio, etc. There was not one good-looking guy that happened to walk by Mega Strip that wasn't gay.

So how did we know they were fairies? Of course, there's the "gaydar", a force which I have yet to fully develop myself. Just one look by my friends at these men, and wham, they instantly know whether we all belong to the same organization. Besides, they swayed their hips when they walked, aside from the fact that they were rather too stylishly dressed. Couldn't believe how much gays are starting to overpopulate Manila, specifically, the mega strip.

Hmmm... Is the "strip" the new gay scene? I wouldn't be surprised if it was the case. I swear, women who have been anguishing over their loss of young "perfect" men to other young "perfect" men have more reason to be afraid once they experience this phenomenon in Megamall.

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Went to see MTV Pilipinas at the NBC Tent, the Fort last Thursday. It was a pretty good show, compared to last year's that was just too stiff and boring. Barbie's Cradle, Grace Nono, Gary V., True Faith and Rivermaya were some of the performers. All MTV VJs were present and, umm... I'm really sleepy. Anyway:

Stunning moment of the evening: Karylle winning Best Female

The crowd literally grew silent when it was she who was announced the winner. After all, Regine and Kyla were nominated as well. Karylle herself had to mention that maybe, she just has too many relatives who voted for her, thus explaining her victory. At one point she says, "I can't believe I'm here right now!" Because you got out of bed, dressed up, went up onstage, i**ot.

Heartbreaking Moment of the night: Okay, I've heard rumours that male model/columnist ML isn't exactly blessed in the brains department. However, the guy studies at the Ateneo, so I find them hard to believe. But last Thursday, as a presentor, ML made a major boo-boo by forgetting what seemed to be the simplest of lines. After some really awkward moment (in which he repeated the first few words of his line in an attempt to remember the rest), he says, "Yeah and they say models are stupid..." Whhhyyyy?!!!!!!

Have to really sleep now. Maybe later

Oh my God, oh my God. American hostage Martin Burnham and Filipina nurse Deborah Yap were killed in a "rescue operation" by the Philippine military. I'm completely speechless. After a year of what seemed to be careful planning and deliberation by both the American and Filipino military, it had to come down to this.
Martin's wife, Gracia did get rescued, but is wounded. This is just so sad.

Finally, finally!!!!! My PC is back here at home, after more than 2 months (or three?) of being stranded at Giles's place, waiting for some good heart to offer a Win 98 CD. Have reinstalled the thing, but the problem doesn't stop there.

I'm stuck with 16 colors. Ugh.

Apparently, when you reinstall windows, all your drivers (video, sound, whatever) get completely erased, so you're stuck with no sounds and irritatingly bad color coordination. Now, I have to download a couple of those drivers, and these have to be compatible with my SiS 5595 card. The thing is, those drivers aren't exactly easy to find. Besides, I still don't know what exactly to download. There are just too many friggin' choices and I'm no techie. As of the moment, I'm downloading this: "driver for onboard audio w/ SiS 530 and SiS 5595 chips. MB is P5SS-ME" and I'm not sure if it's the right one. Shit. "Driver for onboard audio". What about the video? Aaargh. To think this is 4MB. Whatever. I'll just delete the thing if it doesn't work out and have Giles figure things out for me (thank God for him!). This is gonna be one loong, stressful night.

Humph. Monday afternoon, not exactly something I look forward to. Hep!!!! Not because I don't like my work ( I absolutely love it!!!), it's just that it's one of those days that you'd rather be in your bed and sleep. Then again Manila is so hot right now, my bed feels like a tanning bed. And of course I have to start writing my article. Deadline: 3.00 P.M. Right. And it's about 2PM already. Great. Last week, it took me 6 hours to finish my work. An embarassing article that had me making a forecast on possible semi-finalists for this year's Miss Universe. My bets were: USA, Puerto Rico, Venezuela, India, Colombia, Germany, Russia, Nigeria, Jamaica and Brazil. Who actually made it: three (Russia, Venezuela, Germany and India). Very embarassing. My poorest forecast ever. Last year, I did very well: 8/10. Just when I decided to publish my thoughts, these judges thought of not giving the highest ratings to USA and Puerto Rico, unlike the previous years. Was cringing at the thought of emails mocking and making fun of me. Thank God they didn't publish my email address.

Nice final question they had: "What makes you blush?" Hmm.. I blush when a cute guy smiles at me, preferably, someone I don't know. That'll really be a blushing moment. Has that ever happened? *thinks* Hmm.. if it did then I wouldn't be thinking this long... Drats.

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What's with the testimonial local commercials we're having lately? Rexona is number one on my list. Okay, this girl goes on and on about her "wet" moments... then later on says, "At least ngayon, with Rexona, hindi na tumutulo!" Eeeeeewwwwww!!!!! It actually "drips" for some people?! Their underarm wetness is that bad that beads of sweat roll down their armipts down to their arms? YAAAAAAACCCK!!!!!! I wonder how much that girl was paid to say those things. Will she still have suitors? Is Rexona going to give her enough compensation for the possible life-long embarassment her commercial is going to give her?
There are other variations of this commercial, each using different people, with diffferent problems, like really bad odor from this teenage guy's armpits ("Nung itinaas ko yung kamay ko, ang baho!!!).

Then there's the Likas Papaya whitening soap commercial. This otherwise okay-looking guy says, "Gusto ko nga sanang bumili ng Likas, kaya lang, alam mo na, baka anong sabihin..." while giving this pa-cute smile. You can't be caught eating when this commercial flashes on your screens. Your food is guaranteed to shoot out of your nose. Then later, "Sabi ng mga friends ko, 'o pumuputi ka ha' ! Ang sabi ko, 'eh di mag-Likas Papaya na rin kayo." Gaaaaadddd!!!!!

Shet!!!! It's 2.30 already!!!! Gaaaah!!!!!!