Brit Wit Twits Heroes

Thanks to Geeks United, I got intrigued by this:



As per its Wikipedia entry, No Heriocs is “a British comedy television series, which began on 18 September 2008…. The series concerns the love lives and day-to-day trials of a group of friends who just happen to be off-duty superheroes. It has been nominated for Best New British TV Comedy of 2008 at the British Comedy Awards.”

“Other aspects of society relating to superheroes include:
• Sidekick taxes – any superhero has to pay sidekick taxes even if they choose not to have one, these taxes are to compensate those affected when a sidekick makes a mistake such as blowing up a post office.
• The SPA – the Super Powers Authority deals with abuse of powers cases, dealing out punishments including community service, such as mentoring an unruly sidekick.
• Anti-cape leagues – parallel to neo-Nazi groups in the real world, anti-cape groups (such as the Cape Haters of Great Britain) are prejudiced against superheroes and tell “capeist” jokes, and sometimes go around “cape-bashing”.
• The Fortress – the bar of choice for the protagonists where most of the show takes place, with three fundamental rules: “No Masks, No Powers and No Heroics”.
• A superhero academy exists where the capes are trained.
• Cape rape – a term similar to Date rape, referring to superhero rapists.
• The Stronghold – the supervillain equivalent of The Fortress. A place for the villains to meet and show their battle and torture scars from their run-ins with heroes.”


How cool! And—Geek alert! Geek alert!—below is a sneak geek peek on the set (comic geeks, prepare to wet your pants):

It’s Only Words

For certain Filipinos the word “bakla” has become the derogatory equivalent of “faggot” in the US. It’s meant to be a harsh put-down.

But I can never forget this story from a friend of mine, who claims this happened back when he was in high school. One day his school bus stopped at an intersection. The high school kids inside spotted a parlorista sashaying on the sidewalk. The kids yelled and taunted, “Bakla! Bakla! Bakla!” Whereupon the parlorista turned to them and said, “Oo, bakla nga ako,” in a nonchalant, matter-of-fact tone, before sashaying once more down the street. The kids were dumbfounded. By appropriating the word, the parlorista turned a hurtful taunt into a harmless non-issue.

Words have as much or as little power as you choose them to be. The real power lies in the ideas behind the words. And at the end of the day, sticks and stones will still be the ones that’ll really hurt.

* * * * *

“Beneath this mask there is an idea, Mr. Creedy, and ideas are bulletproof.” – from the movie V for Vendetta.

Good Night

Out of nowhere came an SMS from him, a former FB whom I’ve stopped seeing a long time ago. I had forgotten to delete his number in my phone, which was how I was able to identify him.

His message: Sex is more mental & psychological than physical to all gay men. Contrary to popular belief, we don’t necessarily crave and lust over another man’s dick. We crave and lust over the possibility that he will eventually fall for us after having sex… Now think about that! Good evening.

Upon reading it, I automatically typed: “Obviously I didn’t fall for you.”

With my finger about to press the “send” button, I hesitated. Pressed “delete” instead, then switched off my phone before turning in for the night. I think I was smiling when I fell asleep.

The following day I remembered to delete his number from my phonebook.

Curious Indeed

At last I finally go to watch The Curious Case Of Benjamin Button. It is true what they said—Cate Blanchett is not human. She’s an android. She’s the movie’s most astonishing special effect. No wait. Come to think of it, when Brad Pitt enters the dance studio and he’s restored to the Thelma And Louise vision of himself, that was a jaw-dropping moment in cinematic history, up there with such iconic visuals like the shot of the bone turning into the spaceship in 2001: A Space Odyssey, Marlon Brando sitting behind the desk in The Godfather, the silhouette of Clark Gable and Vivien Leigh against the burning depot in Gone With The Wind, and the giant ice cream on the beach in Temptation Island.

Curious case of Brad Pitt, though: at first I wondered why he got nominated instead of his co-star when he was basically in Meet Joe Black mode of acting. Then I sadly realized that, as great as Cate is, her acting did not transcend to greatness. She was great as she got older, but when she was young what saved her was the CGI work done on her face to make her look younger. And her performance as the dying mother in the hospital is her version of “Top Marlon Brando’s Mumbling”.

I’ve heard people griping that the movie didn’t seem to have a climax or build-up worthy of its 2+ hour running time. I disagree; sure, one can see the conclusion a mile away, but the whole movie is one long “and then what happens next?” as Benjamin gets younger and younger. Watching the movie made me melancholic, because it is after all a meditation on life, death, the impermanence of things as well as the inevitability of time, whether forwards or back. And with its nearly three-hour running time, you’re sure to have aged by the time you step out of the movie house.

To think that the material was from a short story by F. Scott Fitzgerald; imagine how long the movie might have been if it had been adapted from a novel!

Stew Pee’d

“Respect your readers”?! Who remain anonymous?

(pause for effect)

BWHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!

Suffer The Children, The Conclusion

A couple of episodes back, I narrated an encounter between a Unicef staffer and me. Then I asked my viewers if they think that I’m capable of such nasty actions.

So what was my whole exercise for?

I was curious how the people would comment. True enough, the blunt and nasty ones were from anonymous cowards. When I included an instruction for people to identify themselves when they commented, the nastiness level dropped.

Also, there are readers who assume that everything I write is factual and true. I deliberately called my blog a “show” because it’s precisely that—I am perfectly aware that whatever I write here will be read by others. The public nature of a blog is what makes it different from a private diary or journal, because one way or another the awareness that there are readers will have an effect on one’s writing—what to reveal or to leave out, how to say things, why the need to embellish or fudge on certain details.

This also extends to the comments section. What they write there speaks as much about the commentator as the person they’re commenting about. Their comment is also an extension of the public image they want to project.

Ultimately what this little exercise of mine dramatizes is that this particular blog isn’t a sure way to get to know the truth nor the real me. Some people would want to believe that I am incapable of such acts; some even think too highly of me. Thanks guys, but you’re wrong. I am capable of such nastiness, and I have in the past behaved badly, not in the same way as I described in my previous episode (it’s too public, too attention-grabbing), but bad nonetheless. Of those who left comments, it’s Khan who knows me the longest, and so he got that right. To those who are disappointed, I say to you: “Get over it.”

However, here’s the thing: while I am capable of such nastiness, I am also capable of choosing my actions. Precisely because I know I have this devil inside of me that I now can choose to subdue or ignore it—or let it loose.

So this is what really happened to my encounter with Miss Pudgy Unicef Girl: I cut off her spiel with a wave of my hand, as I continued walking without slowing down a bit. She, being used to such treatment, quickly and quietly backed off. As I walked away I could hear her starting her spiel again, perhaps to a particular passerby who’s more inclined to stop and listen to her. Jamie da Vinci guessed it right, that the encounter was all in my head.

Or so it is stated here on the show. Remember The X-Files? The truth is out there.

Bayot-iful Girls

Most of the gay beauty contests, or “beau-cons,” that I’ve watched are fun yet exasperating at times. Fun because it is one long, gay romp; it’s a fantasy-come-alive for men who want to revel in being beautiful. Exasperating because at times the silliness can be repetitive, even expected. Sometimes things can just end up being sad. In beau-cons, the ones who do not make it to the semi-finals are called “thank you girls.” These girls don’t even make it to the Q-&-A portion, where for me most of the fun happens. No wonder “funny beau-con answers” is a genre unto itself.

While watching Charliebebs Gohetia’s The Thank You Girls in Robinson’s Movie World Galleria, I was reminded of the Australian movie Priscilla, Queen of the Dessert and its American second cousin, To Wong Foo Thanks For Everything, Julie Newmar. As a sub-genre, the road-tripping, cross-dressing movie is not so well represented yet, so it’s a little understandable that those foreign films come to mind. A gaggle of cross-dressing gays hop into a jeepney to go to wherever in Mindanao has a gay beau-con they can join. And when two or more cross-dressers are gathered in fabulousness’ name, feisty comedy and drama occur.

TTYG is a fun enough romp. As the trip progresses, I found myself growing fond of the different characters in the movie (with one or two exceptions of amateurish acting). My favorite moments are the Q-&-A scenes, whether on the actual competition or on top of the moving jeepney. Nothing really new is said or revealed, no new insight. Except for the novelty of hearing gay Bisaya, there is really nothing surprisingly different between gay Mindanao and gay Manila. Which may be just as well.

TTYG thankfully doesn’t force anything unto its viewers. And despite some dragging scenes, the whole movie felt like a breezy trip down a colorful road. Lightly entertaining and mildly diverting, The Thank You Girls may live up to its title critically come awards season, but commercially it deserves a big, warm “thank you, girl!”

Rubber-Dub-Dub!

And here are two ads to start your weekend.

Suffer The Children

The Unicef booth was stationed in a high-traffic area at the third floor of our building. Pleading looks from starving, wide-eyed African children stared out of the murals, posters and tarps that accompanied the booth. The Unicef staff members were standing around the area, stopping passersby and engaging them in conversation. I always thought they were there to just get donations, but I noticed their conversations lasted more than five minutes, so it must be more than just asking for money.

Unfortunately the booth was near the gym’s entrance. I stepped out of the gym after a grueling one-hour session, my head filled with thoughts of, “Where do I eat?” Suddenly a face materialized in front of me. She was short and pudgy, with welcoming wide eyes, a purposeful smile and an even more determined tone of voice as she launched into her highly memorized, very practiced Unicef spiel:

“Hellosirmynameis… (I forget her name) …andyouare…?”

I paused and looked at her from top to bottom. Then I let her have it:

“…pissed at you for blocking my way. Get the F*CK out of my face, fat ass.”

I made sure that when I dropped the F-bomb, my voice was on big-theater projection levels. Numerous heads turned. I noticed her companions looking at us with concern.

“i’msorrysirexcuseme…”, she mumbled as she slinked off. I cast one last withering look at her retreating fat ass. Then with my head held high, I continued on my way, oblivious to the stares of strangers.

* * * * *

POP QUIZ: Do you think McVie is capable of such actions? Cast your vote! Type “mcsurvey” space “your name” space “yes” or “no” and send to 2366.

Or leave a comment with your name here.

Hey Jay!

(From Direk Francis Pasion’s Multiply site.)

“JAY” PHILIPPINE SHOWING

Cinemalaya Best Picture, “JAY” will finally be shown in SM CINEMAS in Metro Manila, Cebu, Pampanga, Davao on FEB. 4, 2009. The film is rated R-13 (audiences will see the film UNCUT—even the frontal nudity of Baron Geisler).

The film already won 3 international awards: BEST FILM (ASIAN HOTSHOTS BERLIN), SPECIAL AWARD (BANGKOK INTL FILM FESTIVAL), SPECIAL AWARD (BAHAMAS INTL FILM FESTIVAL). It is the first debut Filipino film to be invited at the Venice International Film Festival. It was also screened in Pusan, Vancouver, Thessaloniki, Bratislava, Oslo, Rotterdam, Goteburg, Geneva, and counting.

The film stars: Baron Geisler (Best Actor, Cinemalaya & Gawad Tanglaw), Coco Martin, Flor Salanga.

*ALL THOSE NAMED “JAY” WILL HAVE FREE ADMISSION. Just present valid I.D. with the name “JAY.”

* * * * *

I remember before that SM Cinemas announced their policy that they will never allow the showing of R-rated movies. They said then that they wanted their cinemas to target only a “family-friendly” audience. So it’s interesting that the movie was given an R-13 rating (yay!) and that it was allowed to show in SM.

The Chinese New Year Fabcast, Part Two

Here is the second and last part of our Chinese New Year Fabcast. Here we talk about looking forward to 2009 and the Year Of The Ox. Paradoxically, more of the seriousness and the silliness abound, thanks to the spirit of Bailey’s and champagne.

Listen and cheers!

The 2009 Fabcast (Part Two : 26 minutes)

Download this podcast (12.5 MB - right click and save).

The Chinese New Year Fabcast, Part One

This is the first Fabcast for 2009. Unfortunately, not all the Fabcasters were available. AJ couldn’t make it, while Gibbs was in Paris, France on an assignment.

But the gang was in full chikahan mode, with much laughter, banter and friendly ribbing all around. Part One is mostly about us looking back at 2008. Click, listen and enjoy.

The 2009 Fabcast (Part One : 21 minutes)


Download this podcast (10 MB - right click and save).

Hair Ye, Hair Ye!

Because it was time and I wanted to feel the nippy air these days even more. Because I want to look like summer right now.

Matters Of Size

I found myself dragged into a threesome. The two were already at it in the dimly lit corridor, and when I tried to pass them by, one of them grabbed my arm and pulled me into their tangled, merry mess. One was wiry and older, the other was more ample and younger, and so I thought, “I’ll be the middle ground,” and joined them. Call it the Papa Bear, Momma Bear and Baby Bear set-up, with me as the Momma. Or you can just vote for me as Bathhouse Miss Friendship.

Plump Guy had a room and so we piled in there, barely disengaging from one another. PG wanted to concentrate on sucking us both at the same time. Meanwhile, Thin Oldie got a huge kick getting his nipples licked and sucked. TO was also a lot noisier, groaning and grunting and ooh-ing and aah-ing all the time. So I decided to up the ante by eating his nipples and then moving up hungrily to bury my face in his armpit. “Ooooahhhh!” he yelped in pleasure. “Pu—tang—na! Yeah! Sige! Shit, tang’na ka!” he was swearing all over the place. I was feeling pretty good at that point when he hissed through gritted teeth the following: “Tangina ka, ang sarap mo! Kahit na ba maliit titi mo, tang’na! Ang galing mo magromansa, putang’na ka!”

In my mind everything slowed down and came to a halt, ala-The Matrix.

Ho—wha—hey! Whoa! Did you just say what I think you just said?

And then he repeated it. Again. For the second time. “Kahit na ba maliit ang—” and click Pause now!

Ah ganoon, ha?

Okay, I’m actually just a little above 5’5” in height so even by Pinoy men standards I’m short. I’ve been blessed with proportional limbs and extremities. My underwear size varies between medium and large (depending on the brand); it is more an indication of waistline than “packing a wallop” as per YC Bikini Briefs’ commercial, but what the heck. Too much information, you say? Hey, tuning in to The McVie Show is one big TMI. (Or so you think.)

I’ll admit it; size queens will not give me a second glance. But I’m pretty secure in the knowledge than, in my vast and varied experience with Filipino penises, both flaccid and erect, I fall squarely in the middle of the Pinoy penile bell curve. (And may I just remind everyone that the middle of that bell curve covers a huge range of lengths and sizes.)

But let’s put things in context, shall we? Okay, so I will concede that Thin Oldie had the most impressive in terms of length and girth. But if you were to make a side-by-side comparison, his advantage is comparable to the difference between a “tall” and a “grande” at Starbucks; he definitely is no “venti” by any measure. Also, Plump Guy’s was even shorter in length and smaller in girth than mine, and TO had time to check us both out.

So what’s with his verbal ejaculation, huh?

At first I wondered if he was actually referring to Plump Guy, but no. He repeatedly said it into my ears. So yup, that was addressed to me. Was it a form of reverse-psychology-as-foreplay? Or verbal masochism as a turn-on?

Before my mind could speed things up back to normal, a thought occurred. What if I just drop everything and walk out without a word, without much fuss, without throwing a hissy fit? Oh, Thin Oldie might retract what he said just to keep me in the room. But definitely the momentum would be interrupted.

Ultimately I thought, “So?” and time returned to normal. “It’s all in the mind,” I told myself, and everything became mindless again.

Thin Oldie’s next ejaculation was certainly a lot more pleasant to hear.

Want Some ‘Heads?

E-Headers, unite once again!

Taylor Momsen Escapes Paparazzi

Now this is a viral.



The way it was executed it makes people wonder, “Is this for real?” and pass it on, especially among Gossip Girl fans where Taylor Momsen is part of the cast. I myself am not a fan of the show, so I was oblivious to whom she was. My GG-fanatic officemate had to tell me about her.

Can you tell which brand this ad is for?

Instant Legend

It’s my current song-on-repeat for the moment (and I’ve always had a crush on him, even when he was just starting out). I like how grown-up the song is—the lyrics are melancholic, but the music (especially the album version) is upbeat. My favorite line in the song? “But I wish you the best… I guess.”

Fabili-d’oh!

It’s shaping up to be my cheer for the first quarter of 2009: “One! Big! Sigh.”

Is That A Tarsier In Your Pants Or Are You Just Happy To See Me?

He was maybe in his mid-20s. He wasn’t the cutest guy in the airport departure area. But he looked like he smelled nice, and when I sat in the row in front of him I immediately noticed his crotch. And I couldn’t help but take a shot.

Maybe the aircon was a little too cold. Maybe the thought of flying excited him. Maybe he was thinking of what he did the night before, complete with whips, leather, bondage and a tarsier. Or maybe he wasn’t even excited at all, and that’s just his relaxed self.

When we arrived in Manila, he was ahead of us. I don’t think he even had checked-in luggage. By the time we got to the exit, he was gone.

(P.S. – It was really more impressive when he was slouched earlier; I was able to get a shot only after he shifted in his seat.)

Transportmers Kamo?

I’m sure you’ve seen this email since it’s been doing the rounds. There was a similar viral that spread a few weeks after the movie came out—local versions of the Transformers. But that rendition felt haphazard compared to this one. Even the name studies here, kinarir ever!

The Curious Case Of Defining McVie

“We are defined by opportunities, even the ones we miss.”

We were in a meeting outside Café Via Mare in Rockwell Mall when he stepped out of the mall exit and caught my eye. He was tall with a lean frame; he wore a tight tee and relaxed khaki shorts that showed off his casually defined muscles that hinted of afternoons on the tennis court instead of lifting weights in the gym.

He took the empty table beside ours and ordered. He wasn’t drop-dead handsome, and his face bore some scars of adolescent acne problems that thankfully were all behind him now. Yet I couldn’t help but glance at him, admiring his trim chest, the tight thigh muscles, and lean, strong arms. He glanced at our table and saw me looking at him, so we both averted our eyes. Oops back off, I warned myself.

Our brainstorming went well, with much laughter and excited rising of voices. He finished his meal and took out a stick to smoke. I kept glancing at him. He would look at our table, see me eyeing him, and we’d break off our glances. This went on three, four times.

When he paid his bill, I noticed he borrowed the waiter’s pen and wrote something on a piece of paper. It took him just a little too long in writing for it to be a signature (if he paid using his credit card). He gave the pen back to the waiter who then left, and he lingered for a while.

When he stood up, a car pulled up beside our table (the tables outside Café Via Mare are beside the driveway). Several of our other officemates were inside the car, and they engaged us in conversation. I noticed he stood up from his chair, walked towards us, and passed behind me. I looked at the table he just left; there was something placed underneath the napkin holder.

But our officemates in the car asked me something, so I couldn’t leave my chair. I watched helplessly as the waiter came back and immediately bussed the table. This I cannot forget: the waiter picked up a discarded pre-paid card that was re-inserted back into its torn plastic cover; he turned it over, smiled and shook his head in puzzlement. Then he went inside and talked to his fellow waiters; they had a laugh, and he proceeded to throw the card along with the other trash in the trashcan.

That night I kept replaying that scene over and over in my head, wondering if there was anything written at the back of the pre-paid card, and a lot of other what ifs.

(And I really, really have to watch The Curious Case of Benjamin Button as soon as possible.)

Presenting The Loboc Youth Ambassadors

This is the last of my Bohol movies. The Loboc Youth Ambassadors is a brass band composed of students. In Loboc, tourists can opt to watch them perform at the Loboc Children’s Palace after taking the night river cruise.

Surprisingly I had fun during the 45+ minutes of the concert. At the start I had to fight the urge to cringe in my seat. Truth be told, I’ve always found band covers of pop songs (like the way Ray Coniff and Mantovani—with their respective orchestras—did it in the 50s and 60s) very cheesy. But there’s something about the earnestness of the performance of the kids. They’re so guileless, their performance transcends cheese and, after a while, becomes endearing.

Too bad my camera didn’t have enough bytes; I was only able to shoot snippets of the first half of the show.



(The video file size uploaded was quite big, so please be patient while downloading, especially for those with slower connections.)

Surviving Lonely, Series 4

You Want A Peace Of You?

In my Jan. 06 episode entitled “Call Me Placido” (click here to review), I received the following comment:

Mugen said...
Hope to follow your footsteps McVie, I'm one of those having troubles living a single life.

* * * * *

Dear Mugen,

I wouldn’t wish anyone to follow my footsteps, for your path is for you to tread and my path, mine. But maybe the following can be of help to you and all those having trouble living a single life.

Paradoxically it’s easiest and hardest at the start. Easiest because that’s when you’re at your gung-ho best, surest of your decision and still most optimistic that living a single life is the right thing for you at that point in time. Hardest because you’re at your most clueless, helpless and, when loneliness hits, it hits at its sharpest.

But think of it this way.

Reduced to its simplest form, a lover is someone who basically a time-filler, someone whom you’ll devote your time, effort and undivided attention to the detriment of other things or people who may also compete for your time. He is someone who will take up several hours away from the 24 that you have every day.

That your lover is an important and significant time-filler is undeniable. Therefore, one must find a worthy replacement to this important, significant time-filler.

Family is the first and most obvious group of people who come to mind. Friends are also a group deserving of your time and effort. Depending on your capacity for altruism, you can go beyond the people you personally know and embrace strangers. Devoting your time and talents to people in need can be a worthy endeavor.

Or why limit yourself to people? How about pandas, tarsiers and other species in danger of extinction? Or stray, abandoned dogs and cats? You can even focus your attention to causes; instead of things, you can embrace grand themes.

Cultivating your relationships with family, friends and falcons can be rewarding. But I think the most important person in this state of singleness is someone we most often forget to be best friends with: ourselves.

I believe that if we are best friends with ourselves, then the question “Who’s worthy enough to fill up my time?” will always have a ready answer. It’s not selfishness; it’s self-preservation at first and eventually, self-love.

(Insert the George Benton original or the Whitney Houston cover here.)

As time goes by, bouts of loneliness will sting less, linger less and occur less frequently. Plus you will learn how to cope better, find ways of distracting yourself.

And you will learn to be at peace with yourself.

In the end, I think that’s one of the best gifts one can give to others and to oneself: “Peace be with you… and me.”

(Now if you will ask me if I have achieved peace with myself, my honest answer is: far from it. But every day is a gift and an opportunity to work on me.)

Cruisin’ In Loboc

This video was taken during our evening cruise down Loboc River. One can also dine in one of the floating restaurants and take a river cruise during the day, but at night the weather is cooler and the ambiance more relaxing.

We had dinner first, then took the cruise, and capped the night off by watching a performance of the Loboc Youth Ambassadors Brass Band. The video of the brass band will follow soon.

Call Me Placido

Even though I’ve stopped making New Year’s resolutions a long time ago, I’ve decided to teach myself to “go placidly amid the noise and the haste” of relationships this year.

If I’m rejected, busted or unrequited (yet again), I will not let it affect me too much. But with matters of the heart, one can never tell; if it cannot be avoided, then I will not let wallow for longer than a week. It took God seven days to create the world and rest; why not match Him in making my world placid once again?

As far as possible, without surrender, I will be on good terms with all persons. But I will avoid those people who rejected, busted or kept my feelings unrequited; they are vexations to my spirit. So even if they are the ones who’ll reach out to me in friendship, I will be friendly to them but will not be friends with them, for always there will be greater and lesser persons than them.

I am a child of the universe; therefore, I might as well send my love to the universe instead of tiny individuals who do not deserve my time, attention and obsession.

And I will be placid even if I remain single while every one else around me is coupling or breaking up. I will be gentle with myself, with the ones positively lost in the giddy early days of romance, and with those who are going through excruciating heartbreak. Whether it is clear to me or not why I remain single, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.

With all the breaking up, infidelity and broken dreams, being single is beautiful. So I will be cheerful. And I will strive to be happy.

(with much apologies to Max Ehrmann’s “Desiderata”)

Pink Bohol, Part Two

Panglao Island is connected to the mainland by two land bridges. The whole island is a beach lover’s paradise, with resorts one after the other on all sides. Bohol Beach Club may have the best-looking beach front, but for me the more famous strip of beach is Alona Beach.

Mini-trivia: yes, it was named after Alona Alegre, a Filipina actress who shot a movie with Fernando Poe, Jr. on that particular beach back in the 60s. This strip is also the most happening place on Panglao Island, with rows and rows of resorts, restos and recreational pubs. Because here is where you’ll find most of the foreigners who visit Bohol to enjoy the beaches and go diving or snorkeling.

I was able to see the nightlife along Alona Beach for the first time ever on this trip. At around dinnertime most of the establishments place chairs and tables along the beachfront, and they display lots of fresh seafood for you to choose and have their kitchen cook it in any way you like. By around 8-9pm, the same establishments morph into bars, and the music shifts from an easy tempo to a more driving beat (here, rock and roll is still king). There is a bar with a disco ball and lots of blinking lights, but they also have a game area, and the crowd that particular night (Tuesday) was quite straight.

I sadly realized: there’s no decidedly, purposefully gay-friendly bar here!

So I brainstormed with Onai and his friends to come up with the very first ever gay-friendly bar along Alona Beach: the Pink Tarsier!

The music will be all-dance, with some trance house on slow days and techno-house on weekends. All the bartenders will be cross-dressers, and the waiters will have to be good-looking hunks. Every top-of-the-hour, the cross-dressers will stop bartending and break into a lip-synch number.

We’ll have cocktails named Kahlua Hills, Bakla Yon Church (with a mix of mompo), Peanutty Kisses, and of course the house specialty Pink Tarsier, a concoction so powerful, one shot and you’ll be clinging on to the nearest person available. All cocktail drinks come with a cute, cuddly pink tarsier stuffed toy hanging on to the straw—no tiny umbrellas allowed.

All the employees will wear Pink Tarsier t-shirts, with different themes per night. On Madonna night, the t-shirts will have Madonna song titles: Express Yourself, Papa Don’t Preach, Material Girl, Give It 2 Me. On Abba nights, it’ll be Abba song titles: Mamma Mia!, Gimme Gimme Gimme A Man After Midnight, Take A Chance On Me, Knowing Me Knowing You, Does Your Mother Know, Dancing Queen, The Winner Takes It All—and so forth and so on.

There will even be a massage parlor (with extra service) on the side. It can provide extra income to the waiters during off-peak seasons.

It’ll be the liveliest, most colorful bar in the whole of Panglao! (That is, unless the Archdiocese of Tagbilaran and the conservatives of Bohol gang up on us and close us down!)

P.S. – I told you, my being here with the family has made me quite wholesome, hehehe.

Phat’s Entertainment

My aunt has the phat-est Christmas toys this side of, err, Bohol. Her sisters in the States gave her the toys you’ll see below. I never knew I had relatives who were gangsta.

Word up, yo!

Santa Ho-Hoes


Gangsta Penguin


Santa Out-Of-The-Box (This one isn’t hip-hop or gangsta. I just included it just because.)

Pink Bohol, Part One

“The boys are on vacation right now, so the action is in the barrios.”

Onai’s friend told me this. He was a statuesque dude-looks-like-a-lady’s man, whose deep timbre voice was the dead giveaway.

I knew I was going to be in Bohol for a total of 17 days, but it never occurred to me that I’d be spending 2 weeks and 3 days without having sex with someone. Even in the self-help department, I’ve dramatically cut down on beating myself up. Not that I was consciously abstaining; for some strange reason, my being with the family has cut down my libido in some way. Call it the Wholesomeness Gene.

So when I hooked up with Onai and his friends a couple of days before the New Year, I was curious where they get their action here in the island. After all, they grew up in Bohol. I’ve been here more than ten times already, and only once did I have an encounter. I was eager to learn more.

Apparently, the boys who would sometimes play with the members of the other team are mostly students (especially from the maritime school) and the drivers of the habal-habal (those big provincial tricycles). The best time to be a “fisher of men” is when the boys are in their classes. Since they’re on vacation in their barrios, they could be found playing basketball in the town plaza. Or you could take a late night ride on a habal-habal, instruct the driver to proceed to some quiet road, and there the passenger gets to ride the driver.

But here’s the rub: what sells here in the provinces are the girlie boys. Straight-acting or even straight-looking gays rarely get noticed. Which for me makes sense: a girlie boy approximates a female, and having sex with one is a less threatening thought for a mind of a provincial nature.

However, there is a time-honored tradition to hooking the guys, and it involves a lot of alcohol and a fellow girlie boy. First, invite the boys (especially if they’ve just finished playing a sweaty game of hoops) to a drinking session—you pick the tab, or offer at least several rounds. Next, make sure that a fellow girlie boy who knows these boys are with you—he serves as the mamma-san who can advise you who among the boys will take the bait and who to avoid. Going there alone is not advisable if you don’t know the boys; they could just take you for a ride and drain you of your resources without draining you of your, eherm, you know.

After hearing all that, I thought: “Ay, haggardness!”

There must be a better way to boost the gay scene here in the land of Chocolate Hills and tarsiers.

(to be continued)

New Year, New Season

Well, it’s about time, folks.