Guys That Make you Go, “Hamuna, hamuna, hamuna...”

When you hear the word sexy, what comes to mind? With me, I’d like to say myself but I know I’m just inviting attempts to my life, so I’ll change my mind and say, “Anything oozing with talent.” Again, synonymous to me, but let’s not anger our public. All 3 of them.

In honor of that definition and the fact that Alice in Wonderland opens next month (i.e. the time I become barely literate with too much happiness), I would like to present you with my list of the sexiest men the heavens have been kind to grace us. Let me first take a moment to physically stopper my drool, and then let’s begin.

# 5. Johnny Depp. What?! Number 5! Are you crazy?! How dare you?!
Woah. Calm down. Repeat after me: “It’s not the end of the world.” You know how many guys I had on the list when I started? 78. And I had to narrow it to 5. It physically hurt cutting off hot guy after hot guy just so I don’t have to write a 10-page blog post. Bear with me.

Anyway, back to dear old Johnny. I really don’t need to define why the guy’s sexy, do I? He’s an amazing actor, he makes characters that would have been bland and creepy (read: Willy Wonka) exude so much sex appeal, your friends sometimes need to restrain you from launching yourself to the theater’s screen. He has a private life he keeps private (yes, we’re looking at you, Spencer Pratt), he wears a hat without looking like an idiot, and he was once a rock star.

*stops and wipes drool from face*

#4. Alan Rickman. He makes greasy-haired, sneaky Death Eater Severus Snape look so hot. Seriously. Have any of you who’ve read any Harry Potter book thought it possible that Severus can be portrayed in such a way that you would want to take your clothes off during a Potions class? Of course, he’d give you detention, but it’d be so worth it.

*Sigh* 

I’d follow that billowing black robe anywhere.

#3. Slash aka Saul Hudson. I feel guilty about placing my former future husband in third place, but I had to give up. Perla (the wife) doesn’t seem all that inclined to leave the sexiest artist that has ever touched a guitar, and it’s been 17 years since I promised eternal love to then Guns N’ Roses lead guitarist.

I might have given up on the future wife part, but Slash, dear I’ll never stop loving every inch of your disheveled, abundant, and suspiciously full of tiny woodland creatures hair. You got me through some pretty difficult times. Remember when I had this neighbor who was pissing me off with the stench of his overflowing garbage? All I had to do was play Appetite for Destruction in maximum volume and he was more than willing to clean up.

*sigh* 

Good times, good times. 

Take a listen at his Godfather guitar solo, and I dare ya to stop yourself from taking your clothes off.

#2. Simon Pegg. Boys, know this. If you’re not good-looking, be English. If you’re not English, play the guitar and be a rock star. If you can’t be a rock star, be a comedian. Funny guys will never go out of style.

Now, if you’re a hot English rock star who’s also funny, then you’re the man of my dreams. Call me.

Simon Pegg is one of the funniest writers, ever. There’s just something about British humor that grabs the attention. The fact that he’s also a faithful friend is a huge turn-on.

It’s frustrating ‘cause I can never articulate exactly why Mr. Pegg can top Johnny Depp on a ‘hot’ list, but I strongly suggest you watch Shaun of the Dead or Hot Fuzz, and note – while you’re laughing your behind off – that he co-wrote both flicks.

And, the # 1, of course, is…

Ray Davies. Most people would prefer John Lennon, and I have nothing against John, in fact I absolutely support the research on inventing time machines just so I can properly stalk him, but when it comes to English story-tellers who became famous before I was even thought of, the answer will always be The Kinks’ Ray Davies.

Watch any one of his videos – or  their videos, but let's not be technical – and you’ll find that there’s nothing as sexy as a guy who can tell a story in a short tune and play it with as much enjoyment as my dearly beloved Mr. Davies. Listen to Lola, Waterloo Sunset, Sunny Afternoon, The Village Green Preservation Society and join me in wonder why they don’t make artists like that anymore.

So, there. Five out of 78, and I’m still sane enough to finish it. If you disagree with any entry on this list, it is suggested that you make your own. Cheerio!

What To Do When You’re Single on Valentine’s Day aka the Guide to Surviving Torture

Let’s start with the basics before we begin.

Are you single?

If you’re in a relationship and having a grand time with the man/woman/creature of your dreams, then you need to click that little X at the top right of your screen cause you’re just making us feel bad. Go on. Leave.

...

...

Has the uninvited happily un-singles gone yet? Good.

Now that all of us are in the same page, let’s begin.

It’s Valentine’s Day on Sunday, and you have no date, no plans, no significant other, and at the point of desperation. Your friends are all taken and have already texted, tweeted, and posted Facebook statuses about their grand Valentine’s Day date plans and how they’re so happy with so-and-so and how lucky they are that so-and-so is awesome and isn’t so-and-so sweet sending this-and-that days before V-Day and would you like me to set you up with another so-and-so that has a job, promise, but just a little bit short on cash, and would appreciate if you paid for the movie, he’ll be sure to pick up the tab next time.

*takes out humungous fan and starts fanning herself*

You now wonder whether you can handle another day of this horrible holiday. With these tips, I believe you can!

Be rude. You don’t’ have to fake happiness just because you have friends that can’t stop giggling on Valentine’s. When you meet couples holding hands, or giving each other presents, or just making you feel like crap, scream. Throw stuff. Go crazy. Now, not only your day is ruined, but theirs as well.

Don’t leave the house. It’s a Sunday, so you don’t really need to. Lock the door, drink a little (by a little I mean a lot), and pass out. By the time you wake up, it’ll all be over.

Throw a party. For all your single friends. If you have no single friends, then… Wow… That’s just sad. You have no single friends? What’s wrong with you? Oh, I mean, how dare they! If you have no one to invite to your party, skip this tip, and back away from the edge of the roof.

Ruin your friends’ Valentine’s dates. Call them up saying you have an emergency, and that you need their advice. Cry and moan when they arrive, and beg them to stay. If you have no real problem except envy of their happy relationships, then make something up. Say you met a guy you really like, but he told you he actually liked your friend. Tell them it has happened so many times, you’ve lost hope. Be as pathetic as possible. If you’re really considering this advice, then you’ll have no problem with the pathetic part.

Embrace the depression. Yes. Embrace. Rent the most romantic movies you can possibly find, buy all things delicious; when you get home, wear your most comfy outfit – which for some means nothing – then get into the spirit of depression and cry your eyes out while stuffing your face with your favorite grub. Repeat if necessary.

See? There are ways you can feel less like dog poo. Pick one of these winning tips, and you’ll have a better time being single on Valentine’s Day this year that you have ever had before.

And completely for the sake of innocent research, what do you think is the most romantic movie?

New Year's Resolutions

With just a few more days left this year, I think it's high time that you should be drawing up a list no one should be without before the new year comes. I'm not talking about the list of people who screwed 2009 for you, even though that's a totally good idea. I mean, there have been some people this year who should totally not get anything from Santa. Yes, I'm looking at you, Andal Ampatuan, Jr.

Anyway, the list I'm talking about is the one I do every year and forget two days after I write it: New Year's Resolutions.

I've never stuck to my list before, so I've been thinking that maybe 2010 should be different. I dunno why it should be, but it will.

So, with the help of my faithful manservant Friedrich, I've come up with my newest list, which should look almost identical to lists done by mid-twenties women who have no life.

3. Explore new things. Sure, I eat at kanto carinderias that use one serving spoon for all dishes and plates washed in questionable water, but I'm not sure if that's adventurous enough. So next year I'm going to do things so daring that people will remember it for years, like going to a BIR office thirty minutes before lunch break and expect to be treated like a human being. I know, right? Gutsy!

2. Be kinder. I already am, actually. As evidenced by the fact that not one Iloilo Supermart employee has been harmed. Yet. And I also smile to people a lot. I'm drunk most of those times, but still. I think, though, that I should take the kindness thing a notch higher and make a bigger effort of not laughing out loud when Mommy D is on TV.

1. Lose weight. Fine. So, this is a teensy bit similar to most people's lists and one that has been on all of my to-do lists sice I turned 18, which was just a couple years ago, in case you're wondering. Anyway, I'm taking this one seriously next year. Why? Because, some time next year or the year after that, somebody will invent a time machine that would allow me to travel back to late 60s or early 70s and I don't wanna look like a pig when I finally meet John Lennon or Ray Davies.

And if you're thinking the pig comment is one an anorexic might say, just wanna let you know that my weight right now is my ideal weight. If I'm 5'10". So don't judge.

Three for now, but don't worry as this list will get longer as the new year nears. Now, where's Friedrich? I need my cuppa tea.

Think Happy Thoughts

One of the most awesome Pinoy writers of our time, Jessica Zafra, once said of John Carpenter atrocities: "They're a quick cure for a juvenile temper tantrum."

Personally, though, I'm more partial to anything with zombies, be they done by John Carpenter or not. Actually, I'm not sure if John Carpenter has done a zombie movie, but whatever. Point is when feeling like dung, different people have different ways to calm them. Some go for candles, others break stuff. My 6th grade teacher used to say whenever we frustrated her, that the only thing that calmed her down was taking a broom and bashing it against the wall. Poor broom, but better it than us.

Besides flesh-eating reanimated corpses, I also feel a whole lot better about the state of the world when I listen to music. Surprise, surprise. I think this one is universal and holds true for 90% of people. However, I believe that the following I'm going to share has the same effect to all people. Every time I listen to these songs, I've no choice but to be in a good mood. Enjoy!

Kris Kringle at VAT

Kris Kringle! Christmas Party! Stockings!

You say these words here at the office and you can almost feel people shake with excitement. Can you blame us? Christmas is coming, man. And unlike the year when I decided to boycott the whole shebang and just eat stale bread dunked into lukewarm coffee, this year is definitely going to be a blast.

I personally got a bit of a high when I was asked to do a wish list. A wish list?, I asked. Whatever for? You have to understand that I was raised in an environment where you don't ask for anything and just be thankful for what you get. Be it a loud pink shirt that went perfectly well with your sun-burnt skin, or hair ribbons when your hair was pixie-short, you smile and say thanks right before you hide the damn things and hope they are never found.

I'm not complaining, though. I agree with the whole idea of raising kids that way. Gets rid of the brat in you and replaces it with one who is bent on revenge. Kidding.

The art of creating a wish list is a novel experience. It means you get to think of what you really WANT and not something necessary. That's the whole point of presents, ain't it? They have to be something you wouldn't buy for yourself. Otherwise, why do the whole thing?

Being a virgin wish list maker, I made a novice mistake of writing things I like but I don't have a problem getting for myself.  You get my drift?

You see I'm a huge fan of books. Seeing a book store, especially one that sells used books, is almost an orgasmic experience for me. So when I wrote books on my wishlist - only books, nothing else - it wasn't really in the spirit of the whole thing. I mean, I can get all those things, I'm just waiting for a huge sale.

So let me take this opportunity to tell whoever got my name for the Kris Kringle, whoever you are - you magnificent example of perfection in the virtual assistance field - I'd like to change whatever's on the suggested list into a Magic 8 Ball or a huge Chowder toy or world peace. Okay, go with the ball or Chowder. Pretty please? I knew you'd understand.

*sigh*

Glad that that's out my chest.

Now, any suggestions for something long and juicy?

Sunday Showdown: Pacquiao Vs. What's-His-Name

FYI.

If you see grown men in your neighborhood foaming at the mouth with a vacant look in their eyes while glued to their transistor radios, don't call the police in panic. First off, the police will be in entirely the same state. And second, it's not a new version of the H1N1 virus. They are acting like non-stationary cadavers with AM radio addiction because Manny Pacquiao plays on Sunday.

Yep. The Pinoy champ is playing against some guy from some country who has some belts won in some other fights with some other guys. I dunno. I'm not gonna embarrass myself by speaking 'sports' when I honestly have no idea what it is, except that people sweat when they do it. And smell.

Anyway, I know more about this fight than any other sport stuff (except 90s NBA) because I don't live under a rock. Surprisingly. My male neighbors talk about the match when they meet each other on the street, when they hang out while slugging down cheap whisky, when they lounge in front of their homes with other male neighbors, and even when they are alone. I know this because I heard my uncle argue why Cotto is getting knocked out on the 5th round and not on the 1st while feeding his chickens. By himself.

Of course, we women also share this obsession with Pacquiao and the sport of kicking people's butts. I mean we ask our sport-oriented friends, "What's Pacquiao wearing at the after party?" and we want to know, "What will they name their next child?". We share in the discussions and even get angry when some people liken his mom to Amor. We say, "Hell, no. Amor is prettier than that." See? We care.

The difference is we don't have a countdown posted on our homepage and a blog - with polls and posts as far back as 4 months ago - solely dedicated to a fight that will last all of 20 minutes. We don't get mad when our friend mispronounces Michael Cotto's name, oops sorry did it again (sorry Melv), Miguel Cotto, I mean.

Sure, we have countdowns on our blogs for Harry Potter releases, the next shoe sale, or even the opening of yet another boutique - and that proves the theory that most people might not have heard of but will surely agree with: men and women are different.

*hears gasp from reader*

Oh, don't overreact. Of course, men and women are different. We watch movies for the romance, they watch it for the explosions. We like to talk about the latest Hollywood hookup, they like to talk about the latest draft pick in some team or other. We go to the mall to shop, they go to the mall because we force them to.

One thing's for sure, though. Different as we might be, no matter what we believe in, come Sunday, all Filipinos of either gender and any affiliation located anywhere in the world will be united under one common goal. And that is to grab the remote first. Coz I ain't missing A League Of Their Own.

My Aunt's WTF Moment?

I'm not one to fall for tall stories if it happened to somebody I haven't even met. Exceptions to this rule come in the form of outstanding literature (yes, I believe there was a Middle Earth) done by any and all authors of the fantasy genre. Well, maybe not Stephenie Meyer. Okay, fine, I'll include her.

My family has heard its share of scary stories and I've told some of them myself. Believing them is an entirely different matter. Although I've to admit the one about Tenyente Gimo is one that still has me scared of going out of town with new friends. If you have no idea who he is and what story he's in, wait for my next post.

Anyway, my aunt's latest money-making exploit is to go out of town and sell stuff during market day. It's a sure fire hit if you're pushy and lucky and can carry a bag filled with a hundred bars of laundry soap that weigh almost as much as your average 4-year-old kid that eats too much.

One of the places they went to was Antique, pronounced with 3 syllables. They decided to go individually and knock on doors instead of just hanging out at the market waiting for people to convince themselves the unknown detergent my aunt's group is selling can clean as well as Tide. Fat chance.

My aunt went on a secluded looking little path that had maybe 5 houses along it, at the most. None of the houses seem to show signs of life, but she told herself maybe if she shouted loud enough, somebody was bound to buy a bar. The last house on the lane looked as empty as the others, but this time my aunt decided to knock on the front door instead of just calling out on the street outside the fence, beyond the reach of possible dogs.

When she came near the door, she noticed that there were signs of movement from inside, as evidenced by shadows stirring visible through a gap between the floor and the door. She called out, "Special offer, sir, ma'am..."

More movements, but the door remained closed. She called again. This time she heard approaching footsteps. Then a lock being removed. Finally, the knob turned. My aunt was already preparing for her special offer spiel and extending her hands filled with special offer soap when the door opened and she almost turned Caucasian with fright.

The man on the other side of the door was wearing dirty trousers and a shirt with the logo of a famous pest control brand, but what got my aunt to curse her choce of livelihood is the spit that was hanging from the man's mouth and stretching all the way to his waist. He didn't blink. He didn't say anything. He merely stared at my aunt while his saliva continued its mission of possibly reaching the floor.

Now if I were in this position, I would undoubtedly either go limp with fright and be dinner to the guy, or scream my lungs out while running like hell. My aunt was of a stronger disposition than me, bless her. What she did was still go through the spiel she prepared for the soap-selling while slowly backing out of the man's yard and never breaking eye contact. When she got clear of the man's reach, assuming his reach was that of a normal man's, my aunt high-tailed it out of there, and has now decided never to go back to that town again.

Of course we have no idea what or who the guy was. Or why he was slobbering like that. Maybe he was just so hungry (the normal way). Or maybe he was in a competition with another old man from the same village on how long they can let their drool hang out. We don't know. But with the reputation, that I only just heard of, of towns outside Iloilo being home to creatures of the night, my aunt was probably justified in reacting the way she did.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I've to double lock the doors. You never know.

The City of Smiles Vs. The City of Love

The VS. in the title should warn you of the main topic this blog would be discussing. If not, then we would need to re educate you, which would take weeks and would not give you time to read this blog now. Run along, my sweet.

So, for those remaining and have at least a basic knowledge of abbreviations and their meanings, let's start.

I spent last weekend in the second city I call home, a small one south of my current place of residence and home of the Masskara Festival. Monday off meant a long weekend and rather than starving myself in Iloilo, I decided to make a smart move for once and spend my extended weekend eating my mom's cooking in Bacolod. And boy, am I still full.

Besides eating like an inmate on death row in his last hours, though, I also had time to think of things I already put in the back of my mind when I moved back here. When one has been a resident of two cities, one can't help but compare the two, especially when one is bored. So in the spirit of honesty and that feeling you get when you want to incite a heated debate but don't want to really say it out loud, I would like to present the list that all inhabitants of both cities must have.

In Iloilo City:

1. Cuter jeepneys. Yep. The City of Love is home for the best looking jeepneys this side of the Pacific. And you don't realize that until you set foot in the land of sugar canes. I don't mean to say that Bacolod has hideous-looking jeepneys; all I'm saying is they're butt-ugly. I rode on one the first time I was there; I accidentally dropped some change and they went straight to the streets. No hope of recovery since the jeepney driver couldn't hear me with all the clunking noise the vehicle was making. And, what's more, they have the slowest public utility vehicles, or rather the slowest drivers for public utility vehicles. These men worship corners and would spend at least 15 minutes at each one with no regards to the fact that the jeepney is full and there are no other people in sight that could possibly want to ride the jeepney.

I think they're praying.

2. Better customer service. This came as a huge surprise for me as I have been crusading for the destruction of all Iloilo Supermart employees for years now. I was of the opinion that they were the vilest, most irritating pretend-clerks that ever existed.

I was wrong.

I met some who can give IS employees a run for their money. And these weren't from out of the way, small businesses but big franchises like Chowking and SM. 

I was in Watson's one time looking for a St. Ives moisturizer and of course was just happy to ask for assistance from an employee, and I was treated worse than if I was at a Bureau of Internal Revenue office 20 minutes before lunchtime.

In Bacolod City:

1.Cleaner environment. Go around down town Iloilo for two hours between 9am and 5 pm. The dirt and grime that you collect in those two hours equal the dust and grime you collect going around down town Bacolod from 9am-5pm for two days. Believe me. I'm as serious as Mel Carreon every time he runs.

2.More eating choices. They have more restaurants along one street than in all of Iloilo City. They have Bob's Cafe, which is cheaper than Coffee Break and more delish than Starbucks. And while you're at it, they also have Starbucks. Not to mention that the best tasting litson manok I've ever tasted came from Bacolod.


I'm not siding with either of the cities I mentioned, you must understand (iloilo! iloilo!); I'm just looking out for you. You know me. I care more about other people than I do myself.


*looks away and whistles* ... Ummm...what were we talking about?


Oh, that! So,yeah, visit both places and check to see if what I say is true, which I think you'd do 'cause you don't trust me. But that's fine. *sniffles and looks away* I'm just gonna wait here for your thoughts when you're back.
 

Chocolate Deprived Musings

I'm a 25-year-old single female with a decent job, a nice family, acceptable intelligence. A lot of things working for me. Well, at least I think so. I'm not that bad looking. My mother was even heard once to have said that with the right lighting, a bottle of beer and when she leans her head just so, I can almost pass off as pretty. But why oh why am I still single? And it's just not me, we have more old maids in this city than in any city in the world.

With all the Saturday nights I spent alone, I've had more than ample time to speculate on the possible reasons why the fabulously awesome women in Iloilo are still unfortunately(?) single.

1. Women outnumber men 7 to 1. The men in Iloilo City are spoiled. They might deny this but it doesn't make it less true. With more choices, most of them willing, men here have this incurable fascination to unfaithfulness. It's true. Ask the person next to you and I bet my life savings, which amounts to fifty pesos, that he/she knows somebody whose husband or boyfriend is cheating on them.

I point this out to a male friend and he says that all the cheating men do in this city is in the spirit of social work. He says that in response to the need posed by the women in our society for a testosterone-fueled carbon-based life form,they (the testosterone-fueled carbon-based life forms), self-sacrificing creatures that they are, are just giving us what we want. This coming from a guy who believes WWE is real; he cried when The Undertaker was 'buried'.

But you have to agree though that, twisted it may be, the guy has a point. The blatant polygamous activities of some men in this city might be in support for a cause they believe in, i.e. making women happy.

Nevertheless, it still saddens me that with the double duty the boys are doing in service of us, there are still women in this city that sleep alone at night and only dream of their Prince Charming until their hair turns grey.

2. Quota. This theory came up during one of my fat-chewing sessions with other single friends. You see, we have this friend who's been in and out of relationships since she turned 14. She two-timed, three-timed , and I think there was an instance where she four-timed. Based on the number of boys she's had and the number of girls in our little girl group, we think the reason why some of us in the group are still single is that we've used up the assigned number of guys to us. Or rather, she did.

We deduce that God, or any deity you believe in, only gives a certain number of boys to a group of girls. And it's up to the girls on how to divvy up the number so that each one gets a fair share, and 3 of my friends have never had a boyfriend 'cause our friend exhausted our supply.

Try. Check if you have a friend who's been single since birth and I bet, not my life savings but maybe just one cup of instant coffee, that you also have a friend who's had more than her share of boyfriends.

I'll leave you two theories/reasons for now. Off to eat lunch.

*tosses hair then leaves*