Makeover

I was going to meet my friends for after-dinner drinks at around 9:30pm last night. It was already close to 10pm when I stepped out of my room to leave (the bar was just a minute away from my place). My housemate T was in the living room, eyeing our furniture intently. “Mars,” she asked (“mars” is short for “mare” which is short for “kumare”), still looking at the furniture, “what if we put the dinning-slash-work-table nearer the windows?”

It made sense. Almost 80% of our waking time in the house is spent at that dining-slash-work table. It was stationed in the middle of the condo area, away from the balcony windows; in the morning, we still need to switch on the overhead lamps when we’d have breakfast. Moving the table near the windows would eliminate the need to use lights. Plus our breakfast view would be smashing, rain or shine.

We discussed how the other pieces of furniture would be rearranged, but we always ended with, “Let’s see if it’ll work.” So since both of us were born in the Year of the Horse, T didn’t bat an eyelash when I said, “Now?”

Twenty minutes later we had everything moved to where we wanted them to be. All we needed was the final test: seeing the set-up during the daytime.

This morning… SUCCESS!

The two are perfect as reading chairs (with the reading lamps above), and it opened up the space from the entrance going into the condo.

Our living/dining space now has a smashing view. (That’s Max lounging on his daybed, which is conveniently parked under the table.)

We pushed the sofa to the side. Perfect as a day bed or…

…for watching TV, which is just across it. (From my laptop monitor you can see that I’m answering formspring.me questions, LOL!)

The side table now holds flowers, fruits and T’s iPod. (It also serves as an accent to Bruce’s sleeping spot.)

Ahhh. Makeovers are fun. =)

Happy Sad

Someone asked me in formspring.me what my happiest childhood memory was, and what surprised me was I couldn’t immediately think of one. But sad memories, they were a-plenty. Hmmm.

I remember waking up under the bed with my older brother yelling. As a kid I was deathly afraid of loud thunder and howling winds; the night before there was a thunderstorm, and apparently during the night I went under the bed to hide. Everyone was looking for me that morning, and luckily my brother spied me as he was climbing the stairs to the second floor. I don’t remember any of this; all I remember is waking up, and the frenzy of my parents as they were alternately relieved and angry with me.

I remember waking up one Christmas morning, rushing to the tree in the living room, and seeing all the gifts, I started counting mine. Then out of curiosity, I counted my older brother’s gifts—he had two more than I had. My mom used to say we should always have the same of everything, so we had the same clothes, the same (or very similar) toys. I remember holding back the tears even though I was the only one in the living room. I snuck back in bed. I pretended I woke up late and put on a smile when I saw my gifts under the tree.

When I try and remember the happy memories, the first ones I recall are mostly post-college ones. But I do remember the earlier ones, after a bit of mulling over.

One day I’ll ask a shrink why I easily remember the bad ones but blithely ignore or conveniently forget the happy ones.

Halleluiah!

And now thanks to rudeboy’s post, here’s this fun video for all of us to enjoy:

Rubber Sold

The Church has always opposed condom use among straight people because it promotes artificial birth control. The Church has also opposed condom use among gay men because—no wait! The Church frowns on any and everything gay anyway, so what gays do with condoms shouldn’t really matter much to them. (I hope the Church realizes that two men having sex is an all-natural birth control. Oops, did I say natural? Oh yeah, the uber-pious see gay people as immoral and unnatural.)

In the light of the enmity between the Roman Catholic Church and the Department of Health, I propose the following.

Straight guys may not buy condoms because they will only use it for contraception. Only gay folks can buy condoms; that’s because gay men are immoral. So staff members of drugstores or 24-hour convenience stores must first ask anyone attempting to buy condoms: “Are you gay?” Those who answer yes must then prove to the one on the counter that he’s gay by passing any or all of the following tests:

[1] Name That Diva
[2] Suppress That Gag Reflex
[3] Show Your Bib From The (Insert Brand Name Here) Run/Marathon
[4] Carry That Pink Color
[5] Name That Designer Bag
[6] Show Off Your Pet Toy Dog(s)

Immoral = Imbiyernang Moral (Moral Indignation)

I am McVie and I am immoral.

Yup, you read that right. I am not moral. You see, I engage in lots of premarital sex. Worse, I engage in lots of gay premarital sex. Worst, I use condoms! And since the Church and traditional politicians will rather slash their throats first before allowing gay marriages and condom use here in the Philippines, it looks like all gay men and women are “doomed” to engage in safe gay premarital sex until we all croak (unless the bishops and the politicos beat us to it, but, oh well). Because we are predominantly a Roman Catholic country, the morals of the majority hold sway.

Here’s my problem with that: what if I don’t agree with the morals of the majority? Shouldn’t our political system guarantee that we in the minority be allowed to live our lives without prejudice and judgment? Doesn’t the minority have as much right to their beliefs as the majority? Shouldn’t the minority have as much right to equal treatment under the law regardless of race, color, creed, sexual preference and sexual proclivity?

But really, my beef is not about the law. What I find saddening is the lack of sensitivity, tolerance and acceptance for others who do not necessarily think in the same way as most. I’m not asking that others agree with, or even more, do what I do in bed. I’m not asking that others be comfortable with the idea of rimming or anal sex; if they don’t rock your boat, I’m fine with that. I’m not complaining about straight guys eating pussy, so live and let live.

My biggest problem with the guardians of accepted, popular thought is this: they can’t seem to just live and let live.

The straight moral majority will argue that if they give gays an inch, we’ll take a mile. “Allow condom use, and the faggots will destroy the family unit! Humanity will be doomed!” Do they actually think that saying, “It’s okay to be gay” will turn people gay? Exposing the “gay life” to a straight world will not automatically make a straight guy gay, just as years of exposure to straight sex via straight porn and tits-and-ass magazines did not make me straight. If ignorance is bliss, then these straight-laced guardians have achieved Nirvana.

What’s sadder is that even gay guys can’t seem to live and let live with one another. The more conservative ones, the ones who go by the straight rules and norms, more often than not would label as “sluts” those who engage in a lot of sex, as if having consensual, responsible sex with fellow adults is a “bad” thing. Well excuse me, but this particular slut is embracing the term.

Yes, I am an immoral slut. So effing what.

* * * * *

Monday, February 2, 2010
Bishops to DOH chief: Resign

Bishops have called on Health Secretary Esperanza Cabral to resign from her post for her “immoral” way of addressing the population explosion in the country, which was by giving away free condoms to the public.

Read the story from Philstar.com here.

* * * * *

Meanwhile, Gibbs Cadiz says more than a mouthful regarding this issue. Read it here.

Selling Sports

It’s the campy, silly sense of humor more than the Playboy model host (d’uh!) that had me glued to the screen watching the following:



She got me at Bonnie Tyler.

Grow Up

The following portion of the song “Both Sides Now” by the great Joni Mitchell is dedicated to all Pisceans as we enter the period of the two fishes swimming in opposite directions:

“Moons and Junes and ferris wheels,
the dizzy dancing way you feel
as every fairy tale comes real;
I’ve looked at love that way.

But now it’s just another show.
You leave ‘em laughing when you go.
And if you care, don’t let them know,
don’t give yourself away.

I’ve looked at love from both sides now,
from give and take, and still somehow
it’s love’s illusions I recall.
I really don’t know love at all.”

The song was first released in 1969. She re-recorded it in an orchestral, jazzy arrangement in 2000. Below is her performance of the re-arranged classic that Rolling Stone magazine ranked as one of the 500 Greatest Songs of All Time.

Best Dance Screw / Heart Puff

You think Jabbawockeez are dope? You ain’t seen dance moves like this!



I swear, I am willing to bear NigaHiga’s children. He can be my Valentine.

Running Away To Get Away

McVie, why don’t you join us in running?

I have a car, thank you very much.

* * * * *

If you think running is big now, it was even bigger way back in the early 80s.

The beginning of the 80s was all about fitness. Starting off the Decade of Greed and Me was Olivia Newton-John’s double-entendre call to get “Physical”—and the people enthusiastically responded. Running was all the rage. Nike’s “Just Do It” campaign began because of the running revolution. The local apparel line Botak was huge back then with their running shoes and apparel.

Running also ushered in the fitness movement. Thanks to Flashdance, leg warmers and gym clothes invaded everyday fashion. Even when I was with the high school theater group, our seniors forced us all to do several fun runs just for “health and fitness.”

Back then every serious runner had one bible: “The Complete Book of Running” by James F. Fixx. With the book, Jim Fixx popularized the sport by demonstrated the health benefits of regular jogging; in turn, he became known as the running guru.

Then on July 20, 1984, 52-year old Jim Fixx died of cardiac arrest while on a run. Despite reports that heart disease ran in his family, his death still cast pallor over the running world.

As if overnight, the runners disappeared. How does one run away from an ultimate, ironic, cosmic joke?

Coach Rio better make sure his family has no history of heart disease.

You Belt

Leigh gave the belt to me as her pasalubong during one of her out-of-the-country business trips.

It’s easy to see why it immediately became my default belt of choice.

One morning I was dressing up at the gym locker room. I was still shirtless, but I had my pants on with belt firmly in place. Nearby I noticed this Caucasian guy looking towards my direction. Since I’m in my sticky rice queen phase, I didn’t pay him any heed; instead, I turned my back towards him to get my t-shirt from my locker.

Suddenly I heard Caucasian’s deep baritone voice: “Nice belt you have!”

Eh?! I turned around; Caucasian was looking near my crotch area.

“It’s a pretty cool belt you have,” Caucasian repeated, and pointed his fist towards me, expecting me to return the gesture with my fist in a hetero-version of a high-five.

Belatedly I realized he was referring to my belt. “Oh yeah!” I replied and returned his gesture. “My friend gave this to me.”

“I am not a Republican. I am not a bigot,” Caucasian read out loud from my belt. “You know, at this day and age,” he continued, “I can’t imagine anyone who’s a bigot.” And then he picked up his gym bag and moved towards the exit. “Have a nice day,” he said and left.

It dawned on me how lucky I was to have met a Democrat. And I made a mental memo to me: Next time, avoid unnecessary displays of the belt whenever there are Americans around.

It’s not that I can’t defend my belt; I just don’t want the inconvenience of having to. (Jeez, this last statement sounds so Manny Pacquiao-ish, eh?)

Gimme, Gimme Moral!

I remember watching an “I am not immoral” video on YouTube last year. It turned out to be a call for people to join in protesting the Comelec’s decision to ban Ang Ladlad from running on the grounds of “immorality.” I found out about it through my friend K because he was in it.

Last Saturday, I finally met the producer who spearheaded the campaign, Jethro Patalinghug. And I promised him that I would help spread the campaign through my blog. So several months later, here is the actual campaign:





While watching the second video and listening to the different gays and lesbians saying, “I am not immoral,” I realized that something inside me was stirring, a hesitation building up. And I realize it’s because I simply have not really, thoroughly thought about it.

So far what’s iffy for me is this: if morality is indeed subjective, and is determined by the larger society of which we belong to, who’s to say that what is deemed moral now may be considered immoral decades later? That the acts considered immoral today are actually necessary so as to push the boundaries of our thinking.

And if morality is subjective, why is it being used as a justification for something legal? Then isn’t it illegal to use morality as a legal basis?

If so, then my battle cry would be: “F**k, so what if I’m immoral?! I’m not illegal! F**k off!” Ahahaha!

(Hay, sumakit ang ulo ko. Pramis.)

Johnny Come Lazy

Musical theater is, I believe, one of the most difficult genres to create material for. Not only do you need to come up with a great book (translation: the story) that has all the elements—plot, characterization, dialogue, etc.—well-made, but added to that degree of difficulty is conjuring up the musical part—music and lyrics—that should integrate seamlessly in many levels with the book. Staging it is no walk in the park either—there’s dance choreography that has to be woven into the blocking. On Broadway the musical is still going on strong, but here in the Philippines there is a dearth of people who can collaborate and create a damn good musical.

Which is why Vince de Jesus should be considered a national treasure in Philippine theater.

In Si Juan Tamad, Ang Diablo At Ang Limang Milyong Boto (yeah, quite a mouthful), not only has Vince singularly created a musical whose elements weave seamlessly into one another, he has also come up with a very relevant and topical musical that is also highly entertaining.

The Philippine Educational Theater Association (PETA) is known for pushing the “E” part of their acronym rather heavy-handedly (and with good reason). I still have a problem with prescriptive works of art, but I guess when you’re talking to the Filipino audience, after all these years I guess PETA realized long ago what the rest of us are slowly figuring out just now: the Filipino is worth bludgeoning-on-the-head-with-a-lesson for.

More so, this play is part of their “The Virgin Voter’s Campaign” aimed at the 5 million first-time youth voters to register and vote wisely. It is this that explains why the piece plays out like a live Batibot, with matching “Kaya mga bata…” portion in the end directed at the audience. Still, the whole material does not dumb itself down for the audience.

The cast is a high-energy bunch whose collective performance is what lifts the production to joyful heights. Special mention goes to Vince, who played the Diablo (playwright, songwriter, actor, singer—is there anything this man cannot do?), and Victor Robinson who essayed a Juan Tamad on the cusp of manhood.

The songs by Vince are a wonderful hodge-podge of styles and genres. Moreover, what’s remarkable with Vince as a songwriter is how he’s managed to use Filipino lyrics that sound rich, crisp and very understandable when sung.

I felt some jokes could be dropped to further tighten the pace, and while this musical can stand on its own, at times I felt like I was watching a different reflection of Vince’s previous opus, the very excellent Zsazsa Zaturnnah. Insignificant quibbles really, in the face of the more superior achievements by Vince, director Phil Noble and the rest of the artistic staff.

Don’t be lazy, folks. Go watch Juan Tamad this weekend!

If you want to catch the play:

Ticket: P300
Friday, February 5, 2010 – Sunday, March 7, 2010

PETA-Phinma Theater
5 Eymard Drive, Bgy. Kristong Hari, New Manila
Quezon City, Metro Manila
Philippines

Blooming

14 February 2010, 12:30pm; the following is an SMS exchange:

McVie: Hey, did you know that this is the first time I ever received flowers? As in, ever.

Him: Hahaha, don’t worry, first time ko din magbigay ng flowers.

McVie: Talaga, first time? Pinapabilib mo naman ako.

Him: Hahaha… first timers…. Like a virgin!

McVie: Touched for the very first time. Hahaha!

There Seems No Hope At All

Overwrought.



Yeah, call me Scrooge and Montgomery Burns. But 25 years ago when the original came out, I just felt like throwing food at the TV screen instead of donating them to Africa.

Yes America, your British colonizers had done a more superior benefit song back in 1984: an ominous start that segues into a thumping, urgent plea that builds up into a universal cry for help that’s still a powerful call-to-conscience today as well-aimed kick in the gut. Yes, and they did it first. Plus they have a way cooler group name: Band-Aid. The Brits have no time for hokey, schmaltzy, heart-on-your-sleeve pretense. Giving aid is work, folks. It’s neither romantic nor a show. But it can also make for a kick-ass music video:



Who else but the Brits would have enough sly wit to show: [1] that aid and hard work can be lots of fun; [2] a gender-bending gay man gets second billing; [3] a gay man with a future list of criminal records gets third billing? It’s the very same wit that made them choose Gordon Sumner to sing the line, “Where the only water flowing is the bitter sting of tears.”

It’s amazing to watch the video and realize, upon repeated viewing, that some of them actually looked like they’d rather be starving in Africa than be caught dead lip-synching to the song for the video (best “WTF-am-I-doing-here?” expression goes to Paul Weller, followed by Sting). Vidéo vérité.

Ah, don’t mind me. Perhaps I have donor fatigue. Yet, 25 years after, I still think “We Are The World” sucks.

Krissy

I once received a text from RG, asking if the Fabcasters have ever quantified our endorsement powers. He thinks we have the Kris Aquino Magic.

One big “WEH!”

Our fabcasts may have hit 72,000+ downloads since December, but I seriously doubt if that makes us endorsement-ready. We may be exert some influence over a highly niche group of gay men, but we definitely have not crossed over to a mainstream audience.

Kris, on the other hand, seems poised to grab the crown as the second most powerful woman in the Philippines. She just bitches about making sugod, and the whole nation is captivated. Just. Like. That.

RG insists that people watch because she’s someone people love to hate and laugh at—she’s the Paris Hilton of the Philippines. I say she’s Paris in Pesos. People are riveted when she opens her mouth, though I’m not exactly sure why. Is it because she’s a more beautiful-looking car crash?

But I doubt if even Kris Magic can catapult her brother Noynoy to President of the Philippines. In the Philippines, elections are won not by magic, but by good old-fashioned sleight of hand.

“Technology Ruins Romance”

I find it appropriate that I should re-post these three short films from Wong Fu Productions in my blog.

“The Letters” The first one is my favorite. The Mexican-novella type of acting and the tight script, albeit a bit predictable, works well.



“Destiny” This would have been my favorite, simple because it features two cute Asian guys. (Between the two of them? Why not!) It was only the twist in the middle that bothered me. It was too implausible, and it asked too much suspension of disbelief (yeah, yeah, I know it’s just a joke, but even jokes need to be grounded on something for it to work). Despite that, I still enjoyed watching this.



“War Torn” The third one I found the corniest. I get the over-exaggerated acting bit, but I think it would have been smarter if the acting was more truthful and sincere—as if he really believed what he was saying.* Ah well.



*However, in the behind-the-scenes outtakes, the guy playing the marine is actually hilarious with his improvised lines. Go figure.

Anyway, have a Happy Valentine’s! And Kung Hei Fat Choi!

There Will Be No Shame

I was just browsing along on the Internet when I saw the link. I have to admit, I clicked on it simply because I missed seeing the Butterfly Dance, the one popularized by Universal Motion Dancers, to the tune of “Always” by Erasure. I remember being first fascinated, then ultimately turned off by the dance as it became uber-popular and uber-baduy.

Jump cut to years later.

At first I was all set to not finish watching the video. But eventually my attention was held as the dance unfolded. It is actually quite mesmerizing to watch. And yeah, I was giggling while watching.

So open your eyes, I see, your eyes are open.



Aminin, natuwa ka rin noh.

Questions

I found especially interesting the following questions asked in my formspring.me: “What's your take on a lasting monogamous gay relationship? Same success rate as the straight ones? Non-existent? I’m becoming cynical.”

It's not impossible, but I believe the odds are stacked against it—for now.

With straights, you have centuries of societies with cultures espousing monogamy. Laws made by both by societies and religions paint monogamy as the ideal. If the law won't make you behave, then shame from your neighbors will.

Some believe that monogamy and the family unit are there for economic and practical reasons. Economic because wealth is passed on from generation to generation and is kept within the family, and practical because the family unit increases the chances of their progeny to survive until they are old enough to fend for themselves.

But despite that, it's interesting to note that many hetero husbands still philander. They say the male species is built to be polygamous, so as to ensure that their genes have more chances of surviving and being passed on. And gay men are still men after all.

If there are gay couples that succeed in staying monogamous, it's because both partners bought the straight way of thinking—hook, line and sinker. But are the reasons for a straight and monogamous way of life also applicable to gay relationships? Let us examine.

Progeny—there are none. Even if a gay couple adapts a child, there is no passing-of-the-gene going on here. Economics—only the two will benefit in the sharing of wealth. So why stay monogamous? Just so we can mimic what was just taught to us?

Having said that: while I have never had a relationship ever, I realize that there have been two instances wherein I was exclusively dating someone. With the first guy, things just fell into place. With the second guy, he requested that we be exclusively dating, and I agreed without thinking of the consequences. In both cases, I was able to be “exclusive” for at least three months. Am I capable of being faithful for a long time? I’ll never really know until I have the opportunity.

The next question is: Do I want to?

“Hey, Aren’t You McVie?”

One day K told me, “I’m thinking of putting a clearer picture of myself in my blog. What’s it like to have your blog readers know what you look like?”

I never really bothered with that question until recently. I personally have a problem with people who get star struck with—and stuck on—the online McVie. After all, The McVie Show is for show, and there are aspects of the offline me that this blog doesn’t display.

Remaining anonymous in one’s blog gives the said blogger an air of mystery that makes one even more attractive—especially if one writes well. Putting a picture lessens the mystery and forces one’s readers to take sides—Deal or No Deal?

Having a picture in your blog isn’t really a big deal, especially if your reader base is limited to friends and those who personally know you. But readership begets popularity—or notoriety. And having more strangers know what you look like, the more likely that someone in the metro (and trust me, Metro Manila is a small town, really) will recognize you.

The first time it happened to me was in the bathhouse. Someone actually approached me and asked, “Aren’t you McVie the blogger?” Thank god I’ve a generally unflappable personality. I was also asked the same question in Bed more than once. The second time someone recognized me in the same bathhouse, thank goodness he didn’t run away screaming, “Ayan na si McVie! Baka ma-feature ako sa blog niya!”

So far I’ve not had sex with any of the guys who approached me in either bathhouse or Bed; they just like me for my pleasing personality, wry and wicked wit, and my way with words. Hehehe. Those who are attracted to me do not approach me in public, of course; private email is the medium of choice. What happened to those who emailed me in private? I’m sorry, that’s offline topic.

So if you’re thinking of putting a picture in your blog, ask yourself, “What is my ultimate objective in being so OUT there?” Personally, while I’m not officially out to my family (pramis!), I’m out to everyone everywhere; being out on the Internet was my way of coming out while avoiding potential family drama. But aside from that, I don’t see why I need to hide who I am. I work in an industry that is so accepting of the gay community. At times it’s actually an advantage to be gay; either that, or I’ve stumbled upon a way to make my sexual orientation actually work to my advantage.

If you want to have an air of mystery, keep your face offline. If you have a “This is me!” attitude, then showing your face is just the final seal of authenticity. Get real, in other words.

Having said that, here are two cautionary tales.

Tale number one: I met someone in Bed. It was obvious we were attracted to one another—he was smiling at me from across the room. We exchanged saliva and numbers, and then agreed to meet for dinner during the week. Things were okay, until I found out that while he’s not in denial, he wasn’t out to a lot of people; he was very careful to the point of paranoia. Uh-oh. I decided to tell him about my blog. Later that night he checked it out then texted me: “OMG, you’re a gay online celebrity!”

*TOINK!*

Tale number two: last Friday I was in a bar in Malate for the second time in my life. I saw the cutest guy ever—chinito eyes that make me weak in the knee (one knee lang, if knees then I’d have collapsed in a silly mess), cute face, a hot bod and a general aura that screamed, “I smell really great up close!” in contrast to most everyone inside the bar. I looked him in the eye; he looked back. But then he broke his stare and moved on; there was a puzzled look on his face. Hmmm? The second time he passed in front of me; I looked into his eyes again, but he was busy headed for the bathroom.

Later I spied him near the ledge. I stood close to the wall, wanting to take a break from the pushing of the crowd. Suddenly I saw him approach me. And then, GASP! He wrapped his arm over my shoulder. Whoa!

And then he said, “You’re McVie, right?”

Oh.

I practically stammered, “You’re a reader of my blog, I see.”

“No,” he replied. “I’m a fan!”

Uh-oh.

I asked him if he had a blog. He said yes, but that it’s “fucking personal!” I asked for the URL; he told me, “Hey, how about you write about my blog?” I agreed, “But just let me read your blog first, and then I’ll see what I can do.”

Well, he ended up kissing a tranny, while I ended up reading a very interesting blog. Check it out now, the funk-soul brother. (FYI, conservatives are warned to stay away.)

Hey, what’s a gay online celebrity to do, right? Let’s keep the fans happy. (Mr. Boytoy, thanks for the shout-out too.)

Click!

I saw this picture in Manila Gay Guy’s site:

Migs grabbed it from someone’s Facebook (it’s credited), and placed a “Caption this!” instruction. See the numerous suggested captions from a lot of readers here.

But I honestly liked what I came up with as a caption, cuz it shows just how much I like pun-ny word play. One look at the picture, then the word “bisexual” popped in my head and just like that! Something clicked in my mind and out came this caption:

“Sa bi tayo.”

Trailer Park: “Ben And Sam”

Nakakalowka yung very last scene in the trailer. Watch it!



(Thanks to The Bakla Review for posting the trailer.)

Silly Jean

I walked into the 7-11 store. Aside from me there were only three other people inside the store—two female crewmembers and one male co-worker. The music was on full-blast; Michael Jackson’s “Billie Jean” was playing.

“She told me her name was Billie Jean, as she caused a scene”

One of the girls was in front of the chiller where the Yakults and the Nestle Yogurts were stacked. She had her hands up in the air, wavin’ like she just don’t care. She swayed her hips to the music as she shook her arms.

“People always told me, be careful what you do”

And, with her eyes closed, she sang along in her high-pitched voice as Michael let it rip:

“She's just a girl who claims that I am the one!”

The guy saw me come in, and panicked. So he did the only thing he could think of; he greeted me in the loudest voice he could muster, one that would surely rise above Michael’s falsetto.

“GUUUD APTERNUN MA’AM SUUUR, WULCAM TO SEBEN ILLEBEN!”

Upon hearing that the girl, also in a panic, did what she thought would be the best way to hide what she was doing—she reached up and got a Yakult from the top shelf. Pootah, pa-simple ka pa, teh.

“So take my strong advice, just remember to always think twice!”

I was still smiling when I paid for my purchases.

I Find This Rather Brilliant

HOW TO REPORT THE NEWS: