I discovered the music of Damien Rice:

stones taught me to fly. love taught me to lie. life, it taught me to die. so it's not hard to fall. when you float like a cannonball

ARMED and FAB

After the bickering, as I have promised, here's what I think about Ms. Congeniality 2:

Even though the original Miss Congeniality came out 5 years ago, which forces writer Marc Lawrence to avoid any pop culture or current events mentions, Miss Congeniality 2 takes us to THREE WEEKS after the events of the original. FBI Agent Gracie Hart is back on the job, but it's a little tough for her. Now, she is a world famous, recognizable face because she saved the day at the Miss Unites States Pageant, which makes working undercover quite difficult. After being dumped by her boyfriend (explaining why Benjamin Bratt is nowhere to be found), Gracie is reassigned to a public relations position for the FBI, and gets herself a princess makeover in the process. Ten months later, her pal from the pageant, Miss United States Cheryl Frasier (the lovely Heather Burns) and Master of Ceremonies Stan Fields (William Shatner) have been kidnapped, and Gracie wants to help solve the case.

Can Gracie save her friend and Captain Kirk (I couldn't resist)?

Damn that Sandra Bullock! I was ready to get a strong hate and rage worked up against Miss Congeniality 2(AKA The Most Unnecessary Sequel since Weekend at Bernie's 2), but Bullock is so funny and charming throughout most of the film, I can only loathe it just a little bit. Don't get me wrong. I have plenty of reasons to hate the movie, so let us list our grievances here.

It all starts with Director John Pasquin's drawn out comedy sequences that end up causing pain instead of laughter halfway through each one (have fun recognizing the moment when giggles turn into rolling of the eyes). After starting off on a positive note, Miss Congeniality 2 loses steam and lacks enough material to keep the energy up, so these comic moments are milked for everything they are worth, and most of what isn't worth it. Of course, the story calls for Gracie to solve the case by easily coming across important clues and information because Lawrence has to spend time on those comedy moments instead of creating a web of intrigue around the police/FBI work (It's set in Vegas, but it ain't CSI). Finally, Pasquin has a great deal of difficulty matching the comic tone of Bullock's scenes with the nasty crime drama of a kidnapping. If Lawrence had written the entire movie like a farce, it might have worked, but the kidnapping is too dangerous and the villains too scary to make you feel like laughing as they carry out the dastardly plot. Somehow, through all of this, Bullock and cast make you laugh almost enough for me to recommend you buy a ticket. Almost.

In a testament to the cast's professionalism and talent, they find some moments to make us laugh by forming strong personalities for the characters. Bullock, even though the Jersey accent comes and goes, maximizes her clumsy swan routine while forming a nice partnership with Regina King (last seen in Ray), who plays a fellow FBI Agent, Sam Fuller, with a bad attitude and no need for feminine frilly trappings. The two are traditional, buddy movie opposites who might discover they have more in common than they realized (You think so?). Meanwhile, Diedrich "Oswald from The Drew Carey Show" Bader keeps us laughing as Grace's stylist, Joel. Bader makes the character flamboyant.

Miss Congeniality 2: Armed and Fabulous is not one you want to rush out to see, but anyone dragged to it will find the experience to be less painful than a trip to the dentist, or a blind date with me.

. . . . . LYF after ALL

Last night, I finally faced the worst fear that haunted me for ages:

"GOING TO SEE A MOVIE BY MYSELF!"

The thought just bugs me. And until now, I can't still get over with it.

I was there, standing infront of the ticket booths of G4 Cinemas. Half of myself was browsing through movie listings and showtimes - half of myself was looking at the people in line. There were groups of people, bunches, barkadas . . . . . there were old couples, with their kids and all . . . . . and there were young couples, heterosexuals and homosexuals alike. And there was ME. ALONE.

(Wait, I have to throw up!)

(I'm back.)

As if I have other choices, I fell in line for Ms. Congeniality 2. I'm alone for chrissake, why in the world would I bother to watch a serious film? I would just end up committing suicide inside the moviehouse and cause a mass hysteria . . . . . then I'll just suddenly fade away as the lonesome person who watched movies alone. Errrr. Not my type of tragedy!

"For how many?" the girl in the booth asked.

I was just staring at her.

There was an impulse to lie. To buy tickets for two.

"How many tickets, sir?"

"One! Just for one," there! I finally said it.

I wanted to turn around but I'm damn sure that the folks at the back are gossiping, whispering . . . "Ooooooh. He's Alone!"

"So, you're alone?!" the ticket girl said.

Jesus! Lady do you have to put an extra emphasis on that?

"Yes! It's just me," I said with a sly smile.

Say it one more time lady and I'll shove this ticket through you nose 'till the MRT comes out from it.

"Okay! Enjoy the movie."

"Thanks!"

I was already stting enjoying the trailers of upcoming movies that I really do not intend to view alone in the future.

Suddenly, there's this funny looking girl, that looks like a shoe saleslady, carrying a 3-ft long flashlight, that BIG BOSS MAN would be ashamed if he sees it, told me that my seat is taken.

"Yes," I said. "By me."

"Can I see your ticket, sir?"

I pulled the ticket.

"You must be sitted there," she said pointing at a vacant seat in the middle of what I perceive is the lovers' lane. The whole goddam row is like cramped with couples as if a Korean Mass Wedding is about to precede.

"Can't I just stay here?" I pleaded.

"May uupo po kasi dyan eh."

"Then, you should've told me earlier. i can't even see if there are numbers in the seats!"

"Meron po," she said proudly. Then she hovered the glow of her flashlight at the back of one of the seats.

"Well, I'm sorry. I'm not nocturnal. And besides, you shoud not expect that people would come in here carrying a 3 foot long flashlight just like you do."

But then, I just decided to move. The movie is about to start. I don't want to be mugged by an angry mob of Sandra Bullock fans.

Well anyway, the movie is not as shitty as I expected it to be. (I will have to write a separate entry for the movie review, otherwise, I'll ruin this one)

I had some good laughs. Some fake laughs and some genuine laughs.

By the time that the movie ended, my stomach is growling.

So, I headed straight to Bread Tlk to indulge with the heavenly breads.

It was heavenly. I am not a bread conneisseur but when I say heavenly, you have to trust me.

Breadtalk is the only way that can make me believe that heaven exists. (Well . . . . . of course, aside from good sex! When you start calling god, louder and louder . . . . . . then aaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhh . . . . . HEAVEN. So, shame on those people who says that God doesn't listen when you call him.)

Anyway, I went straight home after the delictable bread.

I went online. An old friend asked me how was I doing.

When friends ask me how am I doing, I just usually answer them with sheer pessimism: "Heto, ganto pa ren! walang Lyf!"

Then, when I saw my answer on the chatroom window. I just realized, this line can't be anymore true, especially now that I have to watch a movie ALONE.

I wanted to commit suicide at that moment.

Then, I thought about OASIS, my OASIS.

I checked if he's online.

He is.

Then suddenly I thought . . . . .

I HAVE A LYF AFTER ALL . . . .

The IT Phenomenon

Permit me to be overtly demeaning here as I just want to express my witheld longing to mortify a person, or rather a "thing", which seems to be a person.

I used to think that I would be able to stand other people that would eventually come my way. I used to think that I will always be able to learn how to appreciate and understand other people but this thing, errrr, person, which I really abhor, I really, really as Gawd! really abhor to the highest level of animosity. I just couldn't be in its presence for a long time and not throw up immediately afterwards.

Please do not see me as a person without manners or just being unfriendly in nature. Trust me, I am the most liked person in our office. I'm jolly, likeable and at the same time decent. I'm a good person! But sometimes, we do have our standards and limitations. Especially with the people that we are dealing with.

Now, let me talk about this IT.

I do not know why I really bother to write about IT, since he is not really worth my tendon strain but I can't suppress this.

I hate his guts because,

1) I feel ashamed everytime he's with me or with us. 2) He doesn't have a single clue on what he's saying. 3) he's sorta-lika pathological liar 4) a social climbing sanofabitch 5) with an ugly-looking, algae infested face 6) and the eyes that resembles tita swarding's 7) he's gay and i'm supposed to be close with him but noooooo. He's a gay who doesn't have a culture.8) he's loud as in fucking embarassing loud. as in everytime he talks, there's always the i'm-not-with-him-don't-look-at-me-that-way-feeling.

I'm not insecure with him or any of that bull crap because I'd rather be an orchid that be anything close to him.

I just couldn't understand, why are there such people, which seem to have no apparent purpose in this world, but only to remain a mere +1 to the population of mongoloids!

I'm sorry for these.

I'm back to reality.

Earlier this afternoon, while on my way to office, enjoying the breeze of the humid wind with a combination of the heat of the sun, which is really very tormenting, I bumped into another IT. I do not actually see him as a person but rather a penis. So, he's an it for me.

I am not very fond of ex's. Not because I'm bitter. But I'm lying when I said that. Because I'm bitter.

Well anyway, I met IT a couple of years back, when I was still bumming around and meeting all sorts of people and having sex like a rabbit.

We started out as fuckmates. Nobody could blame me, he got a humongous thingie.

When I bumped into him, actually I didn't notice his face at first. I was looking down in the pavement and my peripheral vision caught a huge lump in the pants of this guy that just walked past me.

Is there a kitten in there?

Then I realized, that lump looks familiar. I immediately turned around and called out his name with a question mark in the end.

He stopped. Turned around. "Melch?"

"Yes, it's Melch!" By that time, I wanted to pull my hair or dive into the nearest open manhole to punish myself for doing that.

He approached me with a sunny smile. I just looked at his face for a while and my vision started to crawl down back to where the lump is.

"How you doin`?"

"I'm doing fine. I'm working there." I pointed at the building where I go to work.

"It's been so long. You do not text."

"I lost your number."

"I want to have sex with you again."

"I'm sorry?"

"I said, I hope we could get together, the two of us again, for dinner. I miss yah."

"And yes, you can drown me in alcohol so that you'll have the chance to rape me . . . "

"Huh."

"I'm sorry, I said why not . . . . . sure. Dinner. Here's my number (gave him the digits) I'm running a little late text me."

Then I waved goodbye and head my way.

"Yeah sure. I'll SEX you!", he yelled back.

Honestly, I really do not want to be with him again. We started out as fuckmates, as I have mentioned. But later on, my feelings developed to something that I have regretted. I fell in love with my fuckmate. Yeah! Yeah! Which I know is an ultimate sin. But, I did not push through it. I gave up and one time, when we were supposed to have sex again, I told him, I could no longer do it with him.

So, that's the end of IT.

ThE SeVen DeAdly GaY SinS

THE se7en DeAdLy GAY SinS

LoSt?

This week, I am employing an arcane device for reviewing gay behavior. Well, this is not because of the passing of the Holy Week 'coz I really am not affected by it, but anyway, my Seven Deadly Gay Sins should be read with a dance remix of "O Fortuna" or any song form "GREGORIAN CHANT" in the background, or immediately followed by a viewing of the movie "Se7en." Not having been raised religiously, I have no proper sense of reverence or resentment toward papal proclamations. For the record, unlike Pope Gregory the Organized, I arranged my Seven Deadly Gay Sins list in alphabetical order, not by degree of severity.

Those of you who are Catholic and already feel guilty just contemplating the sacrilege of my entry should skip ahead immediately to the first deadly gay sin. If you are like me, just be prepared to be entertained. When you see yourself and your own terrible behavior in there, don't be surprised; that's just the way it is with my entry. Feel free to assign your own degree of severity to your sins. You will anyway.

Achievement

How many of you were class president, mr. campus or head of your fraternity? A need to hide who you really are often shows up as maximum-overdrive achievement. Gays have a reputation for being smarter and more successful, but I think the drive to succeed all comes from our need for acceptance. How can the world hate me if I own my own company at 16? Unfortunately, success never translates into the happiness and acceptance we crave, because it is only the achievement itself that gets the acceptance, and little gay you is still hidden away. Looks good on your resume, though.

Affectation

Gay is a world of inventions and secrets. Affectation runs the gamut from queening out in a mall to using a macho persona to get laid. Affectation is what the straight world mistakes for "gay culture." Gays can see it in the "straight-acting" illusion or calling friends "girl." Ultimately, the extremes of gay life are the affectation, because they came to us not naturally but out of a need to feel safe in a hostile world. You get an extra smothering with fire and brimstone if you insist on being offended by this one because you think it doesn't apply to you.

Denial

I think denial is our most powerful human emotion. Denial is what allows gay men to stay in the closet, even when everyone around them knows they are gay. Denial is what perpetuates unsafe sex in a time of HIV, syphilis and herpes. Sometimes, denial is what allows us to keep going from day to day against a tide of oppression, hatred and despair. Ultimately, denial costs us more than we get out of it, because without the truth, we are cast adrift in a world of shallow, easy lies that will wreck us on the rocky shores of reality. Still not sure if you're gay? Go back and read this paragraph twice.

Isolation

Gay life has been called lonely because it seems that no one can keep a relationship going forever. I don't think that gay life is any lonelier than straight life. I do think that the majority of gays are afraid of getting hurt. The coming out process is often fraught with rejection, as is the world of dating. We isolate ourselves from our own emotions, and ultimately each other. We slip into a comfortable world of our own design, where the potential for hurt is at a minimum. The trouble is that our isolation, which keeps out the lows, also holds us back from getting the highs, and our lives exist eternally in a bland middle ground of nothingness.

Regret

The evil twin of achievement is regret. The gay world is the land of the second guess and the "what if" scenario. On the one hand, our desire to be self-reflective and seek personal improvement by learning from our mistakes is admirable. Conversely, whenever our drive to win or to be in a relationship is thwarted, we crash into a swamp of regret and despair. Sometimes, there is regret for being gay in the first place, or in the difficult choices we have to make along the way. Regret is the hardest emotion to shake because, like being gay, it goes right to the core of who we are as human beings. The achievement/regret cycle is like the gay equivalent of manic-depression, which might explain why no amount of alcohol, casual sex or other self-medication can remove the underlying sting.

Restlessness

There is a constant state of restlessness about the gays. Perhaps it is a holdover from the days when we needed to hide who we really were. After all, we all know how hard it is to hit a moving target. There is an impatience with what we have and who we are. It is never good enough. So we keep searching. What are we looking for in that next sexual encounter, that next cute guy, that next gay film? Is it that we are always just searching for ourselves in others? Or perhaps we are afraid of what we might see if we stopped moving long enough to really see ourselves?

Worth

Our ultimate sin is found in our self-worth. This knife cuts both ways. Gays are infused with a sense of self-loathing built on a lack of acceptance and support from the world at large. At the same time, we are filled with all of the vanity of Vanity Fair. No matter how bad we feel about ourselves, there is always someone or something out there that we can hold in lower esteem. Our own low opinion of ourselves powers our desire to turn viciously on each other. Rejection abounds, and we are our own worst enemies. Just as the original seven deadly sins allowed for, we are dismembered alive, but in a novel gay twist, it's by our own hand.

Let's just break sec here. I'm doing nothing here in the office. I can feel ferns starting to sprout from my genitals. It's boring as hell. But waddapak! This is better than like doing something you would really hate afterwards.

Well anyway, I just decided to post something because I just want to share the trailer of STARWARS EPISODE III, which I snatched from Mr. Schizo (I'll never snatch something from you again).

Well anyway, here it is:

STAR WARS EPISODE III: TRAILER