Releasing My Load

February 14, 2009

 

One of my pet peeves is discourtesy.  Every encounter unsheathes my claws and the desire to julienne the perp race through my brain with the urgency of a toothache.

A few nights ago at the gym, I was doing the last of my usual circuit of chest-biceps-forearms when I was overtaken by thirst.  As per experience, whenever I leave my space, I stake it out by draping my gym towel over it to apprehend any misunderstanding as to whether it is being used or not.

As I was returning, I saw this guy beside me take the dumbbells I was using. I politely told him that I was still using it and, over the din of the gym’s thumpa-thumpa,  he mumbled what I assumed to be a request to use it alternately. Which I was only happy to oblige.  Big Mistake.

When I needed to use the dumbbells and sought to retrieve it, the bigger Dumbbell who took it had the gall to tell me to “Isoli mo pagkatapos” in a brusque manner as if he was begrudgingly alllowing me it’s use.

It took a lot of effort not to use his bald pate as weighing scale for the two-25 lbs. dumbbells we were contending for.  I opted for verbal volley and left the area after finishing my set.

If thoughts emitted energy, mine would have been hotter than the steam bath’s as I entered it. It didn’t help matters that it was a night I discerned to be Rampant Cruise Night at the Baths featuring some drearies whose hides were already prune-y from hours of exposure to steam and loud call cent’r faguettes discussing the merits of sex as tension relief. 

Well, I needed relief after that double-whammy at the gym.

As always, the girls were flawless and it took them several minutes to take my load off.  Nine minutes, to be exact – give or take a few seconds.

Advertisements

Grim and Bear It

January 30, 2009

It is curious how the term BITCH when hurled in conniption  can inflict a swath of ego/reputation-wounding injuries.  On the other hand, when BITCH is bandied willingly it can inspire awe in some and erectile dysfunction in others.

Supposedly, us fags possess the innate ability to play tag-team with “difficult” women as bitches are otherwise known by the civilized/PC world.   The affinity stemming hypothetically from our power to grow claws and revert to our femme bestial selves when duly provoked.

[Note:  Catnip to my claws are ignorance, discourtesy and pushy fat asses on narrow bus seats.]

Another link we have, I guess, with the scarlet women and the femme fatales of real and reel life is our admiration of the traits that distinguish them from the wall-flowers: confidence, self-sufficiency, ingenuity, abhorrence of the stupid and the mediocre and a flair for style and dramatics.   Traits that may not win anyone a Ms. Congeniality sash but will certainly see one through any Survivor edition or maybe even a Terminator attack.

On-screen,  anti-heroines have more appeal to me because their characters are less trapped as caricatures [and less insipid] than the actual heroines. These frequently maligned women display dimensions and emotions closer to humanity than any two-bit cartoon heroine that ever graced Saturday mornings.  Admittedly, some of the methods employed by the anti-heroines need work. [Sure, murder and maiming and mayhem may be appealing fantasies  to  employ in the disposal of one’s obstacles but fantasies they must remain.]  However, in their defense, I submit that their less-than-ideal  responses to their issues reflect our own collective responses when faced with similar moments of pique, frustration, desperation or choice.  Knowing this, our regard to their actions may not change but, at least, they do not remain incomprehensible.

Having said more than a mouthful on the subject, my inner bitch rejoiced with the discovery of another formidale female in Cartoon Network of all places.

In The Grim Adventures of Billy and Mandy, the anti-heroine is also the heroine as all the other female character are either helpless or hapless or half-wits.  Plus, she plays with Death everyday.

Billy, the eponymous hero, for lack of a better description, is an idiot with a big nose.

Mandy hates everybody.  She was the one who fixed the limbo game that made the Grim Reaper their slave for life. Typical she is not – her eyebrows are perpetually furrowed, her mouth a constant arc of disdain or fury.and her favored hairstyle resembles horns.  Her personality is summed up in her statement (Wiki-culled) “I’m all for the abuse and exploitation of the stupid.”

A few nights ago, in the episode Pandora’s Lunch Box, Mandy utters another classic after being manipulated by a Dora the Explorer look-a-alike into setting free a host of plagues from a weird-looking lunch box – “Nobody tricks me into unleashing the plagues on humanity.  When the time come, I’ll do it on my own.”

As character, Mandy is totally subversive as she flouts every rule and every notion of what nice little girls should be – she’ll never have a kiddy product tie-up, unless it’s for Junior Chainsaws or Machetes.  In fact, she is an adult Bitch model is there was ever one – totally disinterested, quick to act,  quicker with the barbed repartee,  merciless in punishment and anonymous in altruism.  She represents Parents’ Worst Nightmare, not the least of whom are her own who cower before her.

I wouldn’t recommend The Grim Adventures of Billy and Mandy to your kids unless you plan on running a play-by-play commentary on Mandy and the idiots who inhabit Mandy’s world. But, hey, if you’re up to the challenge, it should be an interesting conversation.

At least it’s not another vapid reality show.

 


To Do or Not To Do

September 26, 2008

 

(I was planning to write something along the lines of “What Not to Say in the Middle of Fucking” but my partner dissuaded me from doing so and I was thrown in a loop as to what to write about next.  So for all the readers who are sick of the following topic, the following post is as much Eric’s fault as mine.)

Sometime a few weeks week, I crossed over.

Previously I could refer to myself (with integrity) as being in my “mid-thirties”.  Actually, I still could but not without transgressing the IX th Commandment.

These days, I’ll share the same age as my partner – so, for a month at least, I have to refrain from referring to him as the “older” one between us. 

Around this time, my sense of preservation compels me to turn from the fact that I’ve aged another year. However, neither threats nor pleas dissuade the people who know me from taking it upon themselves to constantly remind me of it and, inevitably, I end up with thoughts that about the future twined like worry beads around my mind.

Like marriage, for instance.

Not that marriage is something I dread like the proverbial ball and chain or an STD.  In fact, getting married is something I have seriously considered after more than four years of being together with someone as wonderful as my partner.

It is ironic then that, personally, I don’t believe in marriage.

I don’t believe that ceremonies or a piece of paper can bind two people together forever.

I don’t believe that it is the solution to a dysfunctional relationship.

I don’t believe that, as an institution, it is just reserved for certain genders.

I don’t believe in it as a rite of passage that I have to go through to perpetuate traditions that have no relevance to me.

Notwithstanding my disbelief (and sorry lack of funds) – let me just, for the record, say – I am going through it.  Why?  Because I love my partner and I’d do anything to make him happy.

He wants bling, flowers and the whole shebang.  I get to event-organize the program as only an anal-retentive personality can.  We’re still negotiating custody of the DJ’s booth: Eric’s afraid that I’ll churn out an exclusively (and eminently cheesy) OPM playlist while I’m concerned that if were to hand over the turntable to Eric, he’s going to make it a Mariah-fest (na-uh, not gonna happen). 

I know somebody will wonder how on earth two guys can get married in a country where a comprehensive anti-discrimination bill can’t even get passed for fear of being anathemized by the clergy. Well, as I remember it right in the catechism I memorized (yes, I was a geek in Catholic school – even passing Religion was a big deal for me) there is only one instance when the clergy is not the minister of the sacraments.  According to the catholic catechism, in the sacrament of matrimony, the minister is not the clergy officiating the ceremony but the couple exchanging their vows. The attending clergy merely as a witness.  And that’s how I plan to get around the loop – ironic, given their “love the sinner, hate the sin” schtick – but hey, if you can’t join them, beat them.


Music Du Jour

July 30, 2008

Linkin Park has struck again.

This is “Leave Out All The Rest” from their Minutes to Midnight album.

I’ve always been a fan of the band.  I like the fact that their music is loud and makes sense. And Chester’s a sexy geek – so’s Joe Hahn.

I was lucky that when they came to the Philippines to promote their Meteora album, Eric was able to score tickets for the moshpit – my one and only experience in a moshpit. I still remember the sweaty bodies slamming into each other and me, shielding Eric from the thrusts. It was as insane and intense as I’d expected it to be. I’d do it again in a heartbeat.


How to Spend Saturdays

July 29, 2008

 

Usually weekends are leisure days for the rest of the world. Not for me.

I have work on Saturdays.  It’s kind of aggravating travelling to and from work while the rest of the world’s planning how to spend Saturday night or on a weekend getaway or just sleeping through the day.  But what can I say? C’est la vie.

It’s not all bad, though.  Usually weekends mean less crowds at the gym.  It also means no bosses at work (because they’re enjoying their weekend).  Less traffic and it’s way easier to get a cab.

The cherry on my Saturday’s though is the Salcedo Park Open Market.  On Saturday’s the Jaime Velasquez Park in Salcedo Village becomes an organic market slash open air eatery slash cafe sidewalk where you can watch the well-heeled and, occasionally, the well known browse among the hoi polloi like moi like it was the most ordinary thing in the world.

When Eric was still here, we’d go there and eat our hearts out – on healthy (well, reasonably) and organic food like the delicious Vietnamese rolls with shrimp and meat pungent with the aroma of mint. We’d eat it with two pieces each of juicy pork barbecue (I actually ate mine down to the fat – hey, it’s grilled meat, not fried) and wash it down with buko juice.  For enders, we’d usually get my mom some millet-based suman or one made with mango slices.

Of course, the prices reflected where the stuff was being sold.  Dirty ice cream would be 30 pesos a pop.  The suman would be like 25 pesos each.  The buko juice 25 pesos a cup. Usually, I’d bitch about the prices but not here.  Here rich kids played at being ordinary vendors – until you’re tempted to ask for a discount, at which time they switch to their haute-monde faces and wonder who let you in at the gates.  Well, some of them.

But the appeal of the market was beyond that – it was just fun seeing all the stuff they’d bring down from Baguio and hawk it in this rich man’s enclave like it some Baguio market stall.  One area would have beautiful flowers and orchids like one would catch at Dangwa. The smell at the area where they sell the fresh fish and other seafood was no different from the whiff you’d catch from the wet market in Cubao (although being in an open air setting kind of sanitized the smell a bit).  People would be eating food in the designated areas like they’d do at some tianggian – dressed to hilt with beehive hairdos and the wasp-y pearls.

Last time I went, they had a Kapampangan festival.  They had the requisite carvings from Betis and the parols from San Fernando.

However, I was drawn to my favorite Kapampangan product of all time.

I couldn’t resist so I had halo-halo at 8:30 am for breakfast. And pork barbecue. And Vietnamese rolls.

That day, I added like 500 crunches to my usual number at gym. Had to.


Music Du Jour

July 14, 2008

This One Republic. 

Heard them over Myx last night and I couldn’t get the melody out of my head.

It also kind of helps that the lead is cute, sort of. c”,)


Music Du Jour

July 3, 2008

Music currently ringing in my ears. 

The video, though, I have mixed feelings for.  On the one hand, I like her outfit (a bit starshaped); on the other, the extras were kind of distracting – kind of like seeing Sesame Street characters in forest drag.

Enjoy.