File Under: One For The Books

Last night at CB I hooked up with a 30+ year-old married guy with a five year old son and another child on the way.

KABOG mga misis! Yun na.

Of course I found out about it during the post-coital chat. He was amazed at, uhm, something I did to him, and he wanted to know where I learned that, uhm, technique. Improvisation, I said. Plus practice makes perfect. That started it; from then on he was quite the chatty fellow.

It wasn’t his first time in CB. And the last time he was there was several months ago. His wife is already 8 months pregnant, so he gets it where he can. He said he reconciled long ago in his mind the idea of going to a gay-oriented establishment to get his kicks. He has been playing in a band since college, and he has had lots of sex with girl groupies before. (Good golly Miss Molly, I snagged the bass player of a band!)

I asked him if he is sexually and emotionally attracted to guys. He said if he sees a picture of a naked hunk he would admire the physique, maybe even imagine what it’s like to have sex with him. But he said he doesn’t get a hard on just by seeing the picture. Naked sexy girls, on the other hand, give him a woody.

Did he ever get emotionally attracted or attached to another guy? He says the closest would be this UAAP player from LaSalle whom he met in CB. They exchanged numbers, and have gone out several times, usually to play billiards or go drinking. I got the impression that he was attracted to the idea that this good-looking, very masculine basketball player had a crush on him.

Of course he could be lying through his teeth the whole time. But he didn’t seem like he was making things up. And why go through the elaborate pretense anyway?

So, does one even dare to classify him? Give the wide spectrum of human sexuality, is there be a label that can hold him in? Do we even bother?

Much later on I saw him dragging along a gym-buff, Chinese looking hunk into his room. Sigh. Rock star eh. Life is unfair.

P.S. – Maybe I should just label him “rock star,” hmmm?

Dear Joel

Tukayo, I hope you take this with a grain of salt and a bottle of muriatic acid. Seriously, I’m not serious. But you should realize by now that when I tease someone (read: you) incessantly, it’s because I feel quite comfortable with you, that there’s already a certain level of trust established. Well, that and the fact that you’re such an easy target for teasing. Ha. Ha. Ha.

You’re such a giggly girl, tukayo. And the Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf barista, while tall, dark and humanoid, isn’t exactly drop-dead gorgeous. But then in taste there’s no dispute. In your case what’s in dispute is your no taste. Hahaha. O, joke lang yun ha. Dagdagan pa natin ng smiley face. :-) Ayan, obvious na ba?

Actually the barista has an intriguing appeal. There’s something naughty and mysterious in his face. Like he’s a Cho-in-the-making. I’m kidding. But you shouldn’t really torture yourself too much. He’s not really a gay-magnet. Then again, maybe that’s why you’re so fixated on him—you’ve got no competition against his attention. What a brilliant tactic of yours.

You’re torturing yourself on mere possibilities, conjectures and second-guesses. That’s not very scientific or logical. You say he’s been glancing at you the whole night? If you stay for four-plus hours in CBTL with just one order, I think the glances simply mean, “Hoy mga bakla, mag-order naman kayo uli!” or “Leche, gaano katagal pa ba ang mga ito? Ni hindi man lang umorder muli; lugi kami ha!” You say he always passes in front of your table whenever he’d buss the other tables around you? Giggly girl, that’s the most convenient way, the shortest distance between the counter and the other tables.

And the most damning evidence? You already gave him his number and a note saying, “Can we go out on a date?” and he didn’t even call or text you. Granted, he could have lost your number. So just give him your number again. But what did you do last night? You froze up. Why?! You were able to do it the last time, right?

So. Stop playing those melancholy Sarah McLachlan songs, put on some bitchin’ Government music, and dance. Last night was just enough time for you to feel bad about it. Time to move on na.

Move on. Didn’t you notice that the barista in Starbucks opposite CBTL is actually cuter?

Turning Gay

It saddens me when some people—gay and straight—believe that once a straight man has had sex with another man, then he cannot be considered straight anymore, that he has “turned gay” already. I’ve heard and read people express this idea, that once you “taste” your own gender you will become gay and the change is irreversible. Like getting bitten by a vampire. Worse, they say it with such a dismissive, negative tone.

Sigh.

Either they’re narrow-minded or they lack exposure to the diversity of reasons why people do what they do. Is it so inconceivable that a straight man will have sex with another man for reasons other than sexual attraction? Like perhaps financial desperation—in Filipino, “kapit sa patalim”? Or perhaps they do it with their gay manager as part of an “under-the-table” (or more like “under-the-sheets”) deal to get ahead in their career? The human heart is capable of so many secrets, even to itself.

If ever someone—like Robert Redford’s character in 1993’s Indecent Proposal—will offer me a million US dollars (!) to have sex with his wife, I will. Believe me. (Although why they’d offer me of all people, I have no idea, hahaha.) But here’s the thing: even if I have sex with a girl, that won’t make me straight.

How many gay men have married and had sex with women and conceived children, all for the sake of keeping up appearances? Kung kaya natin tiisin makipag-jugjugan sa mga pukengkang, kaya rin ng straight na lalake na tiisin na tumikim ng kapwa lalake, kahit sumubo ng burat.

So whenever straight male friends of mine kid me and tell me, “McVie, why don’t you try and have sex naman with a girl, just so you know what you’re missing? Malay mo, you might like it!” I always respond with, “Ikaw naman ________, why don’t you try and have sex with me naman (mas lalo na kung type ko yung guy, di ba?), just so you know what you’re missing? Malay mo, you might like it!”

Tit for tat. That always shuts them up.

Pictures Paint A Thousand Tsismisezez

On the cover of the March 2007 issue of The Buzz Magasin (yes, it is spelled like that), it said: BASTED! Piolo di umubra kay Rica! I thought, “Hmmm, shouldn’t it be the other way around?”

Then I looked at the article inside and when I saw the picture below, I understood why Rica had no chance with Piolo.

Ika nga ng The Buzzz Magasin, BASTED!

“It Hurts Only When I Laugh”

(*The title is borrowed from a Neil Simon play of the same name, made into a 1981 movie featuring the Academy-nominated performances of Marsha Mason, James Coco and Joan Hackett, with Kristy McNichol.)

* * * * * *

I had a very interesting Saturday evening. I was with Migs of MGG, Gibbs, J. and R., having a very lively discussion regarding internalized homophobia among gay men. After more than three hours of blabbing, we moved on to Bar Uno in QC. It was my first time there.

I was treated to the sight of two gay hosts and their third companion and comedic punching bag, a gay dwarf named Vanessa. Funny how just minutes ago we were talking about how negative gay stereotypes reinforce homophobia and now it seems some of these stereotypes were in full view, going full blast. But after a while I realized a major difference. When it’s gay-bashing the intent is malicious, aimed to hurt. In the sing-along-bar context, gays lambasting other gays is a carefully crafted show that’s aimed for maximum laughter. Besides, the “cruel” jokes aren’t malicious simply because the recipient of the cruelty is in on the joke. I also realized that for most parts they weren’t making fun of being homosexuals. The jokes were aimed at wanting a real pussy (not a universal gay desire), the lack of a love life (not exclusively a gay problem), even Vanessa’s physical deformities (there’s something to be said about Vanessa’s double-whammy—not only is he gay, he’s also a dwarf—but that’s for another time).

I recognize that acting fey and hamming it up for laughs is a tried-and-tested way of making the delivery humorous; in the straight stand-up version, it would be the equivalent of posturing like an angry young man with a foul mouth and a huge chip on their shoulder (African-American comics use this a lot). But is acting fey in stand-up comedy, or even in the office, a form of encouraging stereotypes? And more importantly, how sure are they that the audience is laughing with them and not at them?

I was thinking of those questions while driving home from an otherwise enjoyable evening, thanks to J.’s ill-fated attempt at having a take-home for the night. And while I didn’t arrive at any satisfactory answer, I realized that, when it comes to gay stand-up comics and gay stereotypes, there is the other half of the equation to consider: the audience. If the audience is discerning enough to put the whole thing in perspective, that the whole thing is just an act, then well and good. But if someone walks out of Bar Uno thinking, “Well, them faggots are really just noisy, in-your-face folks who don’t deserve my respect” then uh-oh.

Find Your Own Mandy

Hay naku, that’s IT. I’m tired of people emailing me for the name of the spa in QC, and questions about Mandy—is he cute, is he short, is he well-endowed, etc. I’ve not been back to that spa in over three months now, and I have no idea if Mandy’s still there or not. Besides, do looks count when all he does is a hand-job? Heller! So that’s it, I’m sorry, I’m not going to entertain any email requests, questions or clarifications about that spa in QC. Bahala na kayo to play Hardy Boys or Nancy Drew and you discover for yourself the spas in QC that actually have masseurs who are willing to give extra service. That’s it, I’m done with that topic, been there done that, moving on.

Haaaaay! Tama na.

Four Some

Because AJ (“Bakla Ako, May Reklamo?”) tagged me as “THE McVie!” (all-caps and exclamation point his), I’m compelled—not pressured, don’t worry—to go on all fours for him. Oooh!

APAT NA!

FOUR JOBS I HAVE HAD
• Staff assistant for theater arts department at the Cultural Center of the Philippines
• Advertising copywriter
• TV promo specialist
• Tour coordinator for a theater production—we brought a play to Iloilo and Roxas City

FOUR MOVIES I HAVE WATCHED OVER AND OVER
Ever since high school when I was allowed to watch a movie by myself, I’ve made it a point to watch a movie more than once. The first time is to enjoy it; the second time is to study it. So I’ve watched a lot of movies over and over again. The following are those that I still wouldn’t mind watching again until now.
• Clueless. Alicia Silverstone was just sooo cute and adorable. The whole movie was cute and adorable.
• E.T. The Extra-Terrestrial. At that time it was Spielberg’s best work, combining his technical virtuoso with a story that had more depth and heart. In fact, it had a huge, beating heart at its center. The first movie that also made me teary-eyed.
• Indiana Jones series. Relentlessly exciting, smartly executed, with great characters and edge-of-your-seat action set pieces. Only “Temple of Doom” was a misstep, but the first and the third more than make up for it.
• Lan Yu. I watch it again and again because of Liu Ye. You actually see his penis in one scene. But more than that, he always breaks my heart whenever he darts his sad puppy eyes sideways, too meek to demand what his heart longs so much.

FOUR PLACES I HAVE LIVED
• We lived in an apartment building in Cambridge Street, Cubao, until 1970.
• We moved to SSS Village, Marikina in 1970. And we’ve been there since.
• Bilar, Bohol. My mom’s house is also the house we stay in whenever we go home to Bohol.
• In my head. I often daydream.

FOUR TV SHOWS I LIKE TO WATCH
• Heroes
• The Sopranos
• Frazier (certain seasons)
• Entourage

FOUR PLACES I HAVE BEEN ON VACATION
• Baguio
• Bohol
• Subic
• Hong Kong

FOUR OF MY FAVORITE FOODS
• Pizza!
• Hamburger!
• Barbeque!
• Fried Chicken!

FOUR PLACES I WOULD RATHER BE RIGHT NOW
• In my bed
• In Bohol
• In Puerto Galera
• In somebody’s arms (secret!)

FOUR PEOPLE WHO WILL ANSWER THIS MEME
• Bahala na kayo, you’re old enough.

Tagged by shafts_of_sun

Rules: Post your five favorite books of all time and the reasons why you love them. :-)

In the order which I bought them:

[1] Linda Goodman’s Sun Signs – Back when I was still very much into astrology, I found this book indispensable because it described each sign in several ways: how to recognize, the man, the woman, the child and the boss/employee. Plus Linda Goodman wrote each description so fluidly and vividly, it didn’t read like a zodiac manual. It was a poetic ode to the stars.

[2] Different Seasons by Stephen King – During my “Stephen King” phase, this was the book that I read and reread most often. It is a collection of four novellas, and it is a testament to the quality of the stories that the first three were made into well-received movies: “Rita Hayworth and Shawshank Redemption” into 1994’s The Shawshank Redemption, “Apt Pupil” into 1998’s Apt Pupil, and “The Body” into 1986’s Stand by Me.

[3] Foucault’s Pendulum by Umberto Eco – Like Stephen Hawking’s “A Brief History of Time,” this was one book that I had to stop, reflect on what I just read, re-read it again to make sure I read it right, and then see if I understood it right. Reading it should have been slower than usual, but I remember plowing through it chapter by chapter. That’s how gripping and fascinating it was. And like with Hawking’s book, I felt a little smarter when I finished reading Eco’s book. (FYI I did not, and still don’t, get all of the references that Eco tossed into the book. A lot of them I just tossed by the roadside as I plowed towards the ending. It didn’t diminish my enjoyment of the book, though. But I suppose some uber-geek with all the time, encyclopedias and Google-access is now deliriously drunk over every minutiae of Eco’s book.)

[4] A Series of Unfortunate Events by Lemony Snicket – This marks the start of my kiddie literature stage. When I read about the Events, there were already six books out in the bookstore. I bought all and started reading them one right after the other. They were hilarious, inventive and relentlessly unfortunate. By the fourth book the unrelenting misfortune of the Baudelaires was tiring and depressing. Tip: never read these books back-to-back; take a break between books.

[5] Artemis Fowl series by Eoin Colfer – Imagine a teenage criminal genius going up against the Fairefolk—who’re actually more technologically advanced than magical—and you get a series that’s a cross between James Bond, Harry Potter and Alfred Hitchcock and the Three Investigators. I heard there were plans for developing this series into a movie, but so far zip. What I especially like is the fact that the titular character is unapologetically flawed—he’s amoral, proud and full of himself—and obviously not one of the good guys from the start.

I won’t tag anyone. Just feel free to write down your own list if you want.

* * * * *

P.S. – Oh my stars and garters! I completely forgot a sixth book for my list. I first read this book back when I was in grade school; I remember borrowing it more than once from the library between grades 5 and 7. But I only bought a copy for myself a few years ago.

[6] A Wrinkle In Time by Madeleine L’Engle – The very first book that I stumbled upon on my own (as opposed to a required reading) that I fell head over heels in love with. It had elements of science fiction and fantasy with some religion thrown in to boot. The three immortal beings, Mrs Who, Mrs Which and Mrs Whatsit, reminded me of the three witches of Macbeth or Hecate. Meanwhile, it also had the lead characters traveling through time and space via tesseract, and fighting an evil disembodied brain called IT. It was also one of the first books I read that I wanted it made into a movie. (They did make it into a Disney movie, but I remember seeing parts of it and thinking how much it sucked compared to what I had imagined the movie in my mind.)

Help!

If any of you know where I can get a hold of a DVD copy (with English subtitles, of course) of the movie Eternal Summer, please tell me right away!

It’s a 2006 Taiwanese movie whose Chinese title is Sheng xia guang nian. According to imdb.com, “the plot is simple…tracking the friendship and love of its 3 main protagonists (‘best friends’ Jonathan, Shane, and Carrie) in their youth, from age 11 in a school in rural Hualian (in 1991) to age 18 (1998) to the college year in Taipei (2005), with all of their ensuing majesty, glory, anxiety, complicity, confusion, pain, angst, and a dreamy quality thrown in.”

Care ko sa dreamy quality. The following scene is enough for me to have vivid dreams for nights to come. (Haaay, I just looove Asian men!)

“Hukay-Ukay”

A horror movie proposal. The pitch:

Old abandoned clothes of people who died violent deaths are placed in a used-clothing shop. Because of their loud, tacky style these clothes remain mostly on shelf, unbought and unappreciated. Every year their prices are marked down. Finally only the really poor or the really tasteless shoppers buy these clothes, not knowing that a curse is attached to them.

At first the new owners have nightmares of strangers visiting them in their dreams, saying, “That shirt is sooo not you!” or “Death to plaid pants!” Then the spirits of the dead owners take possession of them, and they’re forced to look for their matching outfit—for example, the wearer of the shirt is compelled to look for the matching pants. If two cursed wearers with matching outfits see one another, they fight like mindless zombies, shouting, “That blouse belongs to meeeee!” and “Give me back my skiiiiiiirt!” They end up killing each other in the process, and their clothes are then given away to the used-clothing shop; thus the curse of death and bad fashion remain unbroken.

Only a modista who’s gifted—or cursed—with the sixth sense figures out the reason for the series of unfortunate deaths. She and her fashion-forward friends decide to put an end to the chain of fashion victims. The solution involves a lot of ripping clothes off and nudity, to ensure a PG-13 rating. And in the end the used-clothes shop will be burned to the ground for a spectacular grand finale.

Jai Guru Deva, Om

The vexation has ended. I’ve now entered the next state, which is the state of Nirvana: blissful indifference.

NEWS FLASH

The following news flash directly concerns Leigh, Nelz, Kervs (are you still watching this?), Xander (are you, too?) and Daniel/Daniella.

Remember Randy?

Yup, that Randy. If it took you a couple of seconds to recognize the name, I’m not surprised. For a time (around season 2?) he intrigued Nelz, irritated and made Kervs jealous, and creeped out Leigh. But then like with a one-note joke, people got tired of him. And he lurked. After a lull of more than a year, he re-emerged for a brief comment during the latter part of last year because of his mom’s death. Then silence again.

Until yesterday. What’s more, I’ve already met him. Face-to-face.

Last night we met up in Dome Café in Shangri-la Mall, Ortigas. I was expecting someone in after-gym clothes; he turned up in corporate attire, with long-sleeved white shirt, khaki pants, leather shoes, the works. He said he works in the finance department of a consumer goods manufacturing company. He works out at the Shangri-La Hotel gym, although with his outfit last night I can’t tell if there’s any effect at all on him. He was never a student of Daniel/Daniella, but he did study in the same school. And he gave another name aside from “Randy.”

And that’s it. He was asking questions one after the other like Boy Abunda; ako naman, feeling In The Actor’s Studio ang drama.

And that’s the vexing thing about Randy. He takes perverse delight in being inscrutable. I understand if one doesn’t trust strangers immediately. But there is an unwritten rule about “matinong pakikitungo” and while I was forthright with my answers, he was playing dodge-‘em the whole time. Why? I have no idea. I have theories, but they will remain unstated.

But at least there is now a face behind the name and online persona.

Hey Randy, I’m sure you’re reading this. Time to start your own blog.

Bi The Way…

While researching for the previous episode, I stumbled upon an invitation for an event posted in G4M. The invite was for a “strictly all-bi” event. Which begs the question: Given their so-called “strict” policy, how can they ensure that all attendees are really bisexual when there are no girls attending that event?

I wonder how they’ll exercise quality control? “Excuse me sir, are you an attendee? Then may we ask you to step this way? See this lady, sir? Okay now, can you kindly go down on her? Yes sir, just shove your face into this lady’s pussy—and perform cunilingus for five minutes. Just five minutes, sir, no more no less; that’s all we’re asking. Yes sir, just shove that tongue of yours up her vagina. Go ahead, sir, we haven’t got all day—and she cannot keep her legs up in the air too long. That’s it, go on, wh—Oh! Wow, you did it sir! You truly are, um, bilingual!” Are there other ways of checking? Are they going to swap pussy stories to prove their bisexuality? Or are they just going to take the attendee’s word for it?

Or, good lord, is this another case of mistakenly using the terms “bisexual” and “straight-acting” interchangeably? Ugh. Heaven help these hapless homos. Childreeeeeeeeeen! Please pay attention to your English teacher, children!

For Prolonged Headache, Read And Then Repeat

(The following episode contains no special editorial effects. The quotes are lifted straight from their original G4M profiles. The most done to them is judicious trimming.)

* * * * *

i am a very happy go lucky persons

* * * * *

I am not a complicated dude...I just try to enjoy the smooth & groovy rides through delectable sound of enlightenment. I am a true sarcastic smart, with a huge sense of humor

* * * * *

what you see is never always what you get, judge me???... well it dependes on what you see.. but, knowing me. ??? is your creativity to look deeper, peel, whatever covers you could see coz deep within me is what makes me human, no perfect, just a real one...

and one thing.. ayoko ng mas matangkad ( im only 5'5) sakin prefer ko yung a little bit taller than me..

* * * * *

a very simple and epitome person

* * * * *

presentable nice lukin guy, toned body PAYAT PO AKO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! inuulit ko TOPAKIN ako kaya kung d nyo kaya ako i handle wag n lng hehehe PEACE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! NO PIC NO REPLY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! alam ko mahaba sya pero pls read muna bago mag MSG!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

(McVie’s note: When I read this, my ears hurt.)

* * * * *

my body is not yet develop as its appear here..pero my improvement na..almost as my pixs here..(gulo no?hehehe)

(McVie’s note: Buti alam mo!)

* * * * *

i am afraid to get old alone. Who will give me my meds? who will massage my legs and arms when arthritis comes in? who will bring me to the hospital when i have a heart attack or get a stroke? It scares me, really scares me.

* * * * *

i hate abnoxious people

(McVie’s note: At first I thought that this was perhaps a simple typographical error. Then I realized that the letter “a” is on the opposite end of the letter “o” in the qwerty keyboard.)

* * * * *

TO THE HUNKS, GORGEOUS GUYS, HOTTIES who are snobs...the bible says men were created for women. But since you're gay, you cant help but fall in love (or worst fall in lust) with someone of the same gender. WIth that, we can say you're commiting a sin. And i know we don't like that.

(McVie’s note: Huh?)

* * * * *

I likes to hang with SIMPLE PEOPLE...

(McVie’s note: And now if you’ll excuse me, I’ll just go and hang myself. Maybe that will end my headache.)

Why G4M May Give You A Headache

NAME: --------
AGE: 25
HEIGHT: 5'11
BUILT: gymfit
HOBBIES: magworkout

Im not into seb or any hunky punky activities....

* * * * *

Some people here join Fraternities or Gangsters
Go ahead, join.
im sure when you die..

family will sorrow for you
friends will sorrow for you
relatives will sorrow for you

but your soul wont sorrow..instead your soul will deeply in pain a pain that will be carried on eternity..a pain of REGRETS. now thats nice to hear.

* * * * *

what an experience would this be!!!!!!!!

* * * * *

i have a experience now but definetely i not in a relationship. i can be afrend but be more polite.

* * * * *

well at times a find meself bein a bit doesy and basically make fun of myself

The McVie Manifesto

Better known as McFesto from hereon:

* * * * *

The McFesto

That’s it. I give up on Love.

I’m talking about eros or Romantic Love. I’m fine with philia or friendship, agape or self-sacrificing love, like affection for family. I’m even fine with recreational sex.

We can be friends. Or we can have sex. Or we can even have friendly sex. But that’s it for now.

I’m tired of falling for guys who don’t feel the same way about me.

And I’m tired of the very few guys who are interested in me but I’m not interested in them; Lord knows I gave them a shot, I really did.

I’m tired of hoping and wishing. As the song in Wicked goes:
“Don’t wish, don’t start.
Wishing only wounds the heart.
I wasn’t born for the rose and the pearl.
There’s a girl I know—
he loves her so.
I’m not that girl.”

I’m tired of seeing everybody else happy. I’m tired of being needy. So instead of feeling crappy, might as well stamp out that need. Make it unnecessary. Crush it. Erase it.

I’ve been programmed all my life to want what I can’t have. So time for me to reprogram. Shut down, delete files, and clean up memory.

Be happy with what is rather than what isn’t. And leave me to dance with myself.

Maybe one day, I’ll reboot the new McVie. Until then, anyone silly or stupid enough to engage the McHeart will be trashed and ejected. Nothing personal; it’s for everyone’s peace of mind.

The Best-Laid Plans Of Mice And Men Often Go Awry

My Saturday schedule was supposed to be simple: wake up late in the morning, leave after lunch to have a haircut at Ipe’s by 4pm, then leave before 6pm to go to either Alabang or Makati to duplicate some house keys, then home to hit the sack early. It was at Ipe’s that the schedule slowly unraveled.

While Ipe was cutting my hair, he and I were served San Mig Light. It’s a testament to the level of trust I have with Ipe and his scissors that I allowed him to cut my hair while he was drinking beer. The again I was also slowly getting drunk, which may explain why I was so cavalier about the whole thing.

Then they had me stay for dinner and more beer. I normally only have two bottles; by the end of the night I finished five. Luckily between bottles two and three dinner was served. But thanks to the spirit of alcohol we had a spirited, funny and free-wheeling discussion that touched on, among others, gay relationships, fag stags, threesomes, a feminine wash called Fem-tight (with tawas!) and Peni-fresh, the male version of a feminine wash—dare we call it a masculine wash?—with a very manly scent of Tutti-Fruity.

Then we watched this critical-and-commercial hit Korean monster movie, The Host (watch it, it’s fun). That’s when the text messages started coming in.

Phillip: “Malate gmik ba ang sangkabaklaan ngayon?”

A couple of hours later, another one.

Trina: “We’re in Malate. R u headed here?”

Both had a smiley face at the end of their messages. As in, “hehehe.”

Trina is a former officemate from the network; I haven’t seen her and the guys for quite some time. So I left Orlando in the office (parked beside a guard who unfortunately kept nodding off to sleep) and took a cab to Malate. Praning na ako.

Chatted with my former officemates at O. Then went to Bed where Jong was with his friends and Phillip was with his friends. I gave Phillip his free drink as prize for the McPromo. Then I proceeded to dance alone. I wanted to see just how long I can last; in fairness I danced non-stop for almost an hour. In the middle of all that dancing I suddenly had this idea of producing the movie version of the hit Broadway musical Wicked. What popped into my head first was the image of Hilary Duff as Elphaba, aka the Wicked Witch of the West, and Lindsay Lohan as Glinda the Good Witch singing “What Is This Feeling?” At first I thought Hilary should be the blonde Glinda and Linday the darker, more troubled Elphaba—but then I decided to counter-cast. Besides, Elphaba actually is a misunderstood do-gooder who became disillusioned, while Glinda is a do-gooder whose selfish motivation is to become popular at all costs. So turning the public images of the two singer-actresses on their heads would be an unexpected casting twist and a stretch for the two. Plus I made up my mind that Haylie Duff should play Nessarose, Elphaba’s crippled sister. It was when I was considering casting Justin Timberlake as Fiyero that I dropped that thread of thought and decided to dance like Justin instead. Well, tried anyway.

Dancing through life,
swaying and sweeping
and always keeping cool.

Life’s more painless
for the brainless.
Why think too hard?
When it’s so soothing.

Nothing matters,
but knowing nothing matters—
It’s just life,
So keep dancing through!

I ended up leaving Bed at around 4:30am. By the time I got home around 5:40am, I only had 3 hours of sleep then it’s off to Southwoods to visit our uncle and his family in their new house.

Zzzzzzz.

TGIF

Oh my god, it’s Friday the thirteenth!

(beat)

So effing what.

Cueca Solo

Have you ever danced alone inside an elevator?

I have. And I still do, so long as it’s an elevator without a camera. I especially like to dance up until the very last second just before the doors open. It’s the thrill of almost getting caught dancing inside an elevator, alone.

Why do I dance solo? As a kid I was never confident with my body. Dancing in the dark was where I first started. During parties in high school and college in the late 70s and early 80s, I envied my other classmates who knew how to dance the swing; if you knew how to dance with a partner, you were an instant hit at the party. I never had the courage to learn how to be a dancing queen.
By college swing gave way to new wave; there was no need to lead a partner anymore. It was more about getting the steps and the movement right. I started dancing with myself when I got my own room. I’d lock the door and dance to my heart’s content; I’d pretend I was performing solo on stage in front of an adoring audience.

During my earlier Bed days (back when it was smaller and more packed) I always wanted to dance on the ledge—except that I didn’t have a hot enough body to dance with my shirt off. So I contented myself with dancing the whole night away; it even became a matter of pride for me that I could dance non-stop for almost an hour, even more. Dancing became a way of expressing myself to a general audience. Even when someone would dance with me, it is often more about just matching his movements, not really a genuine give-and-take communication.
I’d like to think that there are people like me; they dance alone. Still, I wanna dance with somebody. But I have yet to meet that someone who, if it were just the two of us in an elevator, would turn to me and say, “Let’s dance.”

* * * * *

The “Dancing in Bed, dancing in bed with McVie” Promo

Mechanics:
1. In The McVie Show episode above, there are six italicized phrases or sentences that correspond to titles of 80s songs (and one from the 70s).
2. Identify the acts that performed the songs when they first hit the charts (in other words, remakes of those songs don’t count).
3. The first to answer all six correctly in the proper order will win a free entrance to Bed on a Saturday evening (exact date to be arranged later) and get to dance with McVie.
4. The winner also gets a chance to go dancing in the sheets with McVie in bed, upon successful negotiations.
5. BONUS: Identify the act which performed the title found in item #4 of the mechanics gets a free drink in Bed courtesy of McVie.

Does this reek of date desperation? Are you laughing at McVie, not with him? Are you not entertained?!

Actually I don’t consider this desperate yet. If I were really desperate, I could’ve just dispensed with the effort of: [1] thinking up of song titles with the word “dance” in them; [2] incorporating said titles into the episode; and [3] come up with promo mechanics.

Okay, okay, I’ll admit it. This is just one big meta-joke.

McVisual DNA

Read my VisualDNA™     Get your own VisualDNA™

What Drives Me

Sigh. I really should avoid titles that remind me of my damaged car.

Speaking of which, people assure me that karma will get the thief in the end. Okay. But what if the reason my car was broken into and I lost my bag is because karma got back at me for spending Holy Week in unholy activities in F and CB? And when karma hits the thief, will someone else be affected by it too? What if bad karma is like energy? Energy cannot be lost; it is merely converted to another form of energy. Karma cannot be lost; it is merely converted from bad to good and vise versa.

Makes me wonder if I should take a break from scratching every time an itch develops. Or limit myself to just scratch-my-own-itch. I should ask an expert if I already qualify as a sex addict.

I’m also beginning to worry that I’m just really more interested in the hunt and the chase. Worse, I’ve been programmed since grade school to always seek challenges, but at the same time they drilled into our heads that failure is not an option. (So much for the “Try and try until you succeed” and “Learn from your mistakes” advice.) So with that kind of undue pressure, I developed a destructive pattern of running (or pining) after impossible “conquests” i.e. chasing after straight guys or hanging onto a guy who has turned me down or shows absolutely no interest in me.

With straight guys I get the challenge but I have an escape clause to avoid being called a failure: He’s straight. One cannot “fail” in a situation where there is no possibility of success. If I manage to snag a straight provincial guy (I think they only make ‘em in the provinces—Manila seems to turn them into macho dancers or hustlers), he will end up leaving me for a woman and why is that not a failure? Because as a straight guy he was built to leave me anyway, so how can one succeed when the players in the playing field are not only on different teams, they play different sports!

Convoluted thinking? It gets worse. As to the gay guys who’ve turned me down or show no interest in me: this “hoping-against-hope” is a “safe” challenge because I’m supposed to not succeed. “Not succeed” is different from “fail.” If the guy turned me down because he already has a boyfriend, then I’m not supposed to succeed because success will make me a home-wrecker (see karma, above). If he is really not that into me, then how can I “fail” at something that has near-zero possibility of me succeeding? I say “near-zero” because I allow the possibility that I can, over time, make him realize what a wonderful boyfriend I can be and he’ll change his mind about me. The possibility of that happening though is so remote that statistically it doesn’t count.

Do you have a headache at this point? Same here. I think I’m going to go raid our ref and eat ice cream now. Oh, and to anyone who takes everything I say so seriously that he’d analyze and point out mistakes in the reasoning or thinking, I say to him, chill, homie!

(Obviously the easy way out is to think this way: if there is no chance of success, then there is no challenge there in the first place. Except that I take perverse pride in hitting my head against a wall. Masochist me.)

* * * * *

Leigh thinks my market is not here in the Philippines. She says very few Pinoys really “get me.” Huh? Maybe she believes I’ll click with aliens. Maybe I should start practicing then:

[a] “McVie, phone home.” _______________
[b] “Re-mi-do-do-sol.” _______________
[c] “Fear leads to anger. Anger leads to hate. Hate leads to sufff-errr-iiing.” _______________
[d] “We’ve been observing your Earth. And we’d like to make a contact with you. Baby.” _______________

Identify correctly from where the abovementioned quotes came from or were inspired from. Get all four (4) quotes right and you get a chance to win a prize: a tongue licking all over your body courtesy of yours truly. Promo is for April 10, 2007 only. Females of the species are disqualified from joining. Per DTI-OuterSpace Permit No. 69, series of 2007. Lick moderately.

(Sigh. And I just said I might be turning into a sex addict.)

Still Life Goes On

Let’s take a break from all that moping and change the topic.

The advantage of being friends with a screenwriter-slash-director is that I get to brainstorm with her on her first digital movie. I was also asked if I could play the doctor in her film, but I guess my movie acting debut must be put on hold for now.

Below is the teaser trailer for Still Life, written, produced and directed by Katski Flores. The male lead, Ron Capinding, is also a dear friend of mine. The film is an official entry to Cinemalaya 2007. Good luck, Katski and company!

For now just enjoy the teaser trailer.

Oh Who Am I Kidding?!

Okay so I lied. I’m still depressed. Actually I’m somewhere between minor denial (I try not to think about it) and a mixed state of worry (where will I get the money to repair the doors and replace all the lost stuff?), anger (mostly directed at myself), and despair (why me? what have I, what have I, what have I done to deserve this?), all in-flux and shifting. Savory Chicken was just a delicious distraction. Even a trip to SM Mall of Asia provided an answer to one of those Questions That Never Occurred To You To Ask: “How does Jollibee travel down the escalator?”

Shet. Fuck. Argh. I still feel violated up to now.

Better Than Prozac 2

Pancit canton tostado. Carbs to death ako even if carbs is death. Kebs.

Better Than Prozac 1

I dare you to remain depressed with this in front of you.

Just When I Thought I Was In...

...deep depression, they pull me back out. This morning my mom said, "Lunch at Savory?" So we're stuffing ourselves while Orlando sits outside with not one but two(!) damaged door locks. Pakshet to death.

I. Feel. So. Bad.

Last night, Saturday evening, went out to Bed. Was with J, who eventually hooked up with a friend of mine whom I’ve known since grade school. Met up with B who was with his hubby. When I got back to my car, I noticed the alarm light was blinking rapidly. Uh-oh. The doors were unlocked. Double uh-oh. My bag was missing. I double-checked, triple-checked. Missing. At least my iPod was still in the glove compartment. I think with the alarm making so much noise, the thief didn’t have the luxury of time so he grabbed the biggest loot he could get. Fuck! I started itemizing the stuff in my bag. Fuck, fuck! Then I saw how the back door lock was jimmied. Fuck, fuck, fuck! Kagabi si J may na-met na papa, si B kasama ang papa, ako papasukin ang kotse ng mangnanakaw. Kagabi si J may hada, even si P all the way in Puerto Galera ay may hada, pero I had a bag stolen, along with my cellphone charger, my iPod charger and earphones, my Madonna “The Confessions Tour” CD/DVD, important papers, and most distressingly, my external hard drive that has all my back-up files. As in all.

Pakshet talaga!

I couldn’t report it, there were no witnesses. The manong bantay-kotse first professed innocence and insisted naisahan siya. Later on when he realized I wasn’t eyeing him as a suspect, he mentioned that he saw a suspicious man in a bike hanging around my car. Yeah, right. But what can I do? What can I do? Sulk. Feel bad. Feel sorry for myself. Feel really bad. My ego is on a personal low now. Last night we were greeting each other “Happy egg hunting!” I should be hunting for my bag and the thief who stole it, and boy, am I sooo not happy. I think I’m gonna crawl into a cave now.

Holy Road Trip

(The following episode has a lot of photos, so my apologies to those on dial-up.)

Several years ago we the McVie siblings took a trip around Laguna Lake during Black Saturday. Now on our third year we’ve transformed the road trip into a kind of food trip. We started in Antipolo where we bought cashew nuts (plain and adobo) and corn. Then we passed through Morong, Rizal then to the different Laguna towns around the lake.

We stopped at Exotik Restaurant in Paete for lunch.
It boasts of being the “cleanest and best landscaped restaurant in Paete” but we didn’t see any other competition so let’s just give them the prize.

They also have chandeliers crafted by the Paete artists.

They have exotic animals all over the place. Below is I think a hornbill.
And is the one below a hawk?

The exotic animals are not just in cages. They’re also in the menu; they also serve bayawak, frogs, shark (I wonder where they get their supply). We of course never bothered to order any of those; we may be adventurous on the road, but not on the table.
We had excellent fried pla-pla (freshly caught and served hot), juicy inihaw na baboy (grilled pork), broccoli with chicken strips, green mango salad (with bagoong) and corn soup. All that at cheap—yes, cheap!—prices.

We spotted an old church tower just a few meters away from the restaurant so we decided to check it out.
It’s sad that the St. John the Baptist church is being renovated instead of restored. They’ve managed to retain the façade and the belfry but the sides and the roof look woefully inappropriate. Inside the clash is more evident at the altar…
…and at the back of the church.
But given that Paete already has a church in the town proper, I guess it’s a good thing that they decided to keep this church instead of destroying it and turning it into some commercial building.

We proceeded to “the land of Seven Lakes and lambanog, San Pablo City!” There we took a peek at Casa San Pablo, a bed-and-breakfast place run by Boots Alcantara. But I’m more familiar with his wife, An Mercado-Alcantara, whom I met when I was still in Basic Advertising. Neither were there, but Boots’ mother, a feisty, funny woman, greeted and entertained us.
Casa San Pablo is a great place to get away from the stress of the metro. The rooms are designed in shabby chic style, there’s an inviting pool, and many, many areas where one can just sit back, read a book, or meditate. Or just stare out into space; at night they bring out mats on the lawn so guests can just gaze at the heavens. Memo to us: Must. Go. Back. And. Stay. Overnight. Or. Two.

Then we bought fresh milk and white cheese in UP Los Baños. We were going to have afternoon snacks at Joe’s, an Italian restaurant with a very American moniker and a very Irish pub interior located just outside the campus. Their pasta is excellent given the very friendly prices—friendly to the richer students, teachers and foreigners assigned to the nearby International Rice Research Institute. Unfortunately it was closed this particular Holy Week; two years ago it was open on the same date. Whether the owners went on vacation or found religion, we have no idea.

We left Los Baños disappointed. But still we hankered for some Italian food. So where did we end up eating?
Sigh. And at a Shell Select along South Super traffic, er, highway. Still, for a food trip we were quite full by the end of the day.

Writers’ Block

Read from my friend Nelz (http://www.nelz.ca) that he’s thinking of shutting down his blog and just maintain his photography site. Part of me wishes he would continue to blog. You see, it was his blog that inspired me to put up The McVie Show in the first place.

I don’t remember now how I stumbled onto his blog, but I remember plowing through pages and pages of well written, sometimes embarrassingly honest and even graphically detailed confessions about his work, his love life, even his sexual encounters. It was a heady experience getting into the mind of a complete stranger on the net. I felt compelled to email him; we ended up exchanging kilometric emails back and forth, sometimes 5 in one day. He was the one who first suggested that I too start my own blog.

Later on I discovered other blogs as well. But I could not forget the kind of impact that Nelz’s blog had on me. With The McVie Show season one, I was trying to mimic his blog, combining honest self-confessions with “what-happened-to-me-today” topical posts, with a couple of raunchy sexcapades tossed in for titillation. But I eventually found my own voice and style. I also realized Nelz wrote better porn, hahaha!

And now, may I also mention other bloggers/LiveJournalists who make me wanna crawl into the back of the classroom in shame. Whenever I read the entries in Leigh Reyes. My Life As A Verb and hotel-boy I feel like a poseur. They have a way with words, easily turning in an elegant phrase or two in every post. Their prose is evocative yet spare and economical, truly efficient writing. Meanwhile I resort to simple similes and verbose prose. Not to mention cheap writer tricks like alliteration and rhyme (see previous sentence). Of course the two happen to be my friends, but I guess that’s why they’re my friends. Their writing makes me want to be a better writer.

(You can also access NelzOnline, My Life As A Verb, and hotel-boy thru McLinks.)

Holy Weak

Received the following SMS this Holy Wednesday morning: FAHRENHEIT ADVISORY: The countries #1 gay hub wil b opem ds holy thursday, friday, saturday, sunday & monday! w/ the same RATE! w/d the same FUN! Tnx & c u guys…

Oh good lord, I said to myself, “country’s” not “countries” please!

Hahaha!

Actually what I first thought of was: Wala talagang sinasanto ang F! Wala. (Nothing is sacred with F.)

Two More Pics

Due to insistent public demand! (Choz!)

I was actually able to find a frontal shot of our New Guy In The Office (hereinafter referred to as NGITO) taken by our official camera man during the party. Laos lang ang camerang gamit, at medyo malayo rin ang shot, so I had to zoom in a bit. As I said, NGITO looks better in person.

Another lasingan shot. My female officemate told me, “Mukhang ikaw ang may flower sa buhok!” Naman!

Corporate Hostess

I always end up being the host in company/department parties. It happened in the first agency I worked in, then in the network I was in, and now in the agency where I’m currently employed. Last Monday night we threw a surprise party for our feisty, beloved president. Since she turned 50, our theme was Hawaii Five-O (a detective TV series back in the 60s), ergo the Hawaiian shirt.

Here we are playing a game ala-Wowowee. The guy standing on the left is our new guy in the office. He is more appealing in person than in pictures. The girls in the office are still gaga over him because he remains mysterious. Is he single? (I don’t know the answer.) Does he have a girlfriend? (I don’t know either.) Is he one of us? (Mukhang naka-Smart siya.)

Afterwards we had wine, beer and lots of picture-taking. And then came the clamor for videoke. When they took out the MagicSing, that was my cue to exit.

Pop Goes My Heart

I miss your comforting presence. I miss how you’d just be seated at your favorite chair in the sala. I miss seeing you wearing any one of your numerous caps. I miss the way you shake your head in bemusement. I miss how you’d always fall asleep even before halfway into any movie. I know you said a couple of times before that you were just waiting for God to take you, but even though I’m happy you’re already at rest and at peace, and I go through most of my daily life with nary a thought of you, I still miss you sometimes. Yesterday was one of those times. Daddy, rest easy.

* * * * *

Aside from April Fools Day, April 1 is also my dad’s 3rd death anniversary. Three years ago he sat in his favorite sofa to wait for my mom to finish dressing up. They were on their way to the 6am daily mass, as always. He closed his eyes and had a massive heart attack. He never opened his eyes again. I remember the weight of his body as my brother and I carried him into the car to bring to the hospital. Days after my brother and I would agree—the way his body was so limp, we expected the worst.

I had to call my boss to tell her I wasn’t coming to work. I had to preface my announcement with, “Um, this isn’t a bad April Fools joke, ma’am.” Well, it was but the joke was on us. My dad must have been giggling at us that morning; our family always had an absurd sense of humor.

* * * * *

My mom cried over his body as the clinic attendants covered it with a blanket. I was wondering if I should comfort her, but decided not to. She wasn’t distraught. She was just saying, “Dee, Dee” over and over (“Dee” was short for both daddy—which she used whenever she’d address him in front of us kids—and Doodie, his nickname, which she used whenever she was mad at him, to hell if we were in front of them.) I suppose she knew that day would come. I decided to give my parents their personal space for the last time.

* * * * *

Too bad I only said “I love you, Daddy” once, and it was even a bit forced—heck, we were being released from the Days With The Lord retreat, and we were commanded to hug our parents and tell them, “I love you!” or else we’d look like ungrateful children in the eyes of the retreat masters and the Lord Himself. Talk about fear pressure. But I realized you were not the type who said things. You did things. And towards the last remaining years of your life I was able to show, not tell, you that I loved you.

Well. That got me off the hook.

Still: I love you, Daddy.

Hostage, Hostage, Bakit Ka Ginawa?

Okay so the following incident is a little “old” given today’s lifespan of news items (unless it involves Anna Nicole Smith, in which case it extends for weeks on end), but what the heck. Remember Armando Ducat, Jr., the man who held 26 children hostage for 10 hours inside a bus, demanding that the government provide better education and health for the said kids? He surrendered after several hours with no injuries to any of the hostages. He did it to dramatize his point and make sure it caught everyone’s attention. Well, he succeeded—even CNN and the BBC picked up the news.

What a sad state of affairs, right? But what to me was saddest about the whole thing was a newspaper article I read a couple of days after the hostage crisis. The children’s parents were not going to press charges against Ducat. In fact one of them, a Mirabelle Moreno, said, “We don’t want him in jail. He was just doing what he thought was right and just for us, the poor.”

Oh yeah right, he was doing “what he thought was right and just.” And “for the poor.” Sad indeed.

Song Sung Blue

Another Pet Shop Boys song running through my mind these days is “Jealousy.” I have been indulging in negativity the past few weeks, and it’s about time I snapped out of it and moved on. I really need to go happy, happy, fun, fun!

I lie alone, the clock strikes three,
And anyone who wanted to could contact me.
At dead of night, ‘til break of day,
Endless thoughts and questions keep me awake—
It’s much too late.

“Where’ve you been?”
“Who’ve you seen?”
“You didn’t phone when you said you would!”
“Do you lie?”
“Do you try
to keep in touch?” You know you could.
I’ve tried to see your point of view,
but could not hear or see
for jealousy.

I never knew time passed so slow,
I wish I’d never met you, or that I could bear to let you go.

I’ve tried to see your point of view,
but could not hear or see
for jealousy.
I never knew ‘til I met you.

Booboo Tube

(I would like to thank Migs and Cris2 for pointing out my inaccurate memories regarding a couple of shows. Thanks guys! The following episode of The McVie Show thus has been re-edited accordingly.)

* * * * *

Last night Leigh and I bumped into Joey C., distinguished creative director of a top ad agency, Ricky V., sought-after photographer turned TV commercial director, and Jessica Zafra, queen of all media. We joined them for dinner at Serendra. There we got to reminiscing about unforgettable moments in Philippine television. We bemoaned that none of them was on YouTube. Future generations of Pinoy couch potatoes should know them to appreciate efforts of television past and to get a sense of history and continuity. Kris Aquino and ilk must be immortalized!

So we identified those moments; obviously the moments we knew betrayed our ages. Below are some in no particular order:

• Kris Aquino’s swan song-and-dive – It was for a production number of GMA Supershow. She was singing and dancing as she walked down a flight of stairs on stage. Suddenly she disappeared off camera. Turned out she fell through a weak portion of the set. Media frenzy followed. (At that time her mother was still president.)

• Divina Valencia drives home her point to Rey de la Cruz – In the showbiz program Rumors, Facts and Humor, they had as panel guests Ms. Divina Valencia, aging actress, and Dr. Rey dela Cruz, then-hot talent manager of many bold starlets. I don’t remember what the two were arguing about, but at a certain point Divina got so peeved that, to shut up Rey who was still talking, she grabbed a microphone and hit him on the head. On live television. A hasty commercial break followed.

• Inday Badiday, outed! – Before The Buzz, before S-Files, there was SeeTrue, the mother of showbiz gossip shows hosted by the late Inday Badiday. She then followed it up with Eye-2-Eye, her public service program where poor people could go on-air to ask for help from kind-hearted viewers. One time Inday Badiday had as guest a special child; he was crying and obviously disoriented by the studio set-up:
Inday: “Kilala mo ba ako?” (“Do you know who I am?”)
Kid (sobbing): “Opo.” (“Yes, ma’am.”)
Inday: “O, sino ako?” (“Well, who am I then?”)
Kid (still sobbing): “Bakla po.” (“You are gay, ma’am.”)
And the director mercifully cut to a commercial.

• Joe Quirino introduces Jean Saburit – Seeing Stars with Joe Quirino was one of the longest-running variety shows on television. The host was known for inviting the prettiest female celebrities as guests. One time Joe Q was going to introduce an up-and-coming actress. Unfortunately he read the cue-card wrong. So he said: “Ladies and gentlemen, Miss Jean Saburat!” with matching flourish.

• Alma Moreno guests dead people – Nora Aunor was a guest in Alma Moreno’s show Lovli-Ness, but true to form she was extremely late for the show. When she finally arrived to do her song number, Alma introduced her this way: “Ladies and gentlemen, the late Nora Aunor!”

• Ricky Belmonte introduces a band – I don’t remember the show, but it could be Seeing Stars with Joe Quirino. Anyway, actor Ricky Belmonte introduced a band by saying, “Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome the band who call themselves—” and stopped. He forgot the band’s name. So he turned to one of the band members and asked, “And what do you call themselves?”

• Eat Bulaga contestant reveals the ingredient for a long-lasting marriage – In one of their game portions, Joey de Leon asked the female contestant, “What is the common name of sodium chloride? Clue! It is what you put on your husband’s eggs every morning.” Flustered, the woman answered, “Uhm, powder?” (The anecdote is funnier in Filipino.)

Do you know of any other unforgettable moments in Philippine television? Do tell! And if you know anyone who has copies of the above-mentioned moments, please, please, puh-leez ask them to upload them to YouTube and tell us about it. Now na!