Too True

“I should’ve known you’d never do anything to spoil it.”

“To spoil what?”

“What we have between us.”

“We don’t have a goddamn thing between us.”

-Play Misty For Me (1971)

Pretty much the line of the times… *sigh*

I love you Miss Vida Boheme!

As my facebook friend had said,  Patrick Swayze is well and truly a ghost now.

There goes another piece of my childhood…

Patrick Swayze passed away peacefully today with family at his side after facing the challenges of his illness for the last 20 months.

Patrick died at 57, a result of a long bout against pancreatic cancer.  He will be missed, of course, but we could all thank Baby Jesus for the DVDs.  We can have a Swayze Day and spend it watching Point Break, Ghost, Dirty Dancing and To Wong Foo…  with a bowl of popcorn and gallons of Coke.  Because, you know, that’s how we roll.

Bodhi, Johnny Castle and Sam Wheat may  be his most famous characters but to me, he would always be the Glamorously Bitchin’ Diva, Vida Boheme.

Check this out!  Is this kickin’ or what?

“Well pumpkins, it comes down to that age-old decision: style… or… substance?”

I won’t forget you, Patrick.

Especially everytime I see my picture from 17 yrs. ago.  I got the friggin “Molly” haircut from Ghost.  Courtesy of meddling Mama Bear. How can one forget?!

Have a good one, dude.  Heaven should prepare for a Dirty Dancing Night.

A Holy Shit Moment

Debuted by two of my favorite Koreans (occassionally, whatever) , Song Hye Kyo and Hyun Bin.

The two have been hooking up apparently for several months now.  Pardon me, I just crawled out of my rut rock and so it’s only now that I knew of this.

To anyone who actually gives a crap about this (like I do), the two met on the set of the Korean soap I haven’t watched (nor do I plan to) “The World They Live In”.   The two had been going steady and they keep in touch through texting—just like any human.  Except they’re cuter and has more money.

I’ve always liked Song Hye Kyo.  I’ve seen her first as the weepy girl in Endless Love and as the adorable ditz in Full House (a KDrama close to my heart) and I’ve always thought that she’s beautiful.

The only drama that I’ve seen Hyun Bin on was My Name Is Kim Sam Soon (who hasn’t?).  Anyway, that’s about it because I can’t tolerate the rest.  His movie, Millionaire’s First Love, irritated me for some reason that I can’t get through the first ten minutes.  I tried, but no can do.  But of course, that doesn’t change the fact that Hyun Bin is quite the dish. 

I’m not sure of this hook up but I hope they’d last.  They’re beautiful to watch, if nothing else.

Source:  Asianluvs

The Poorest-Looking Rich Guy In Hollywood

Keanu doing some shopping… razor and shaving cream not included. Probably because he’s projecting Jerry Garcia.

Keanu’s at it again…

And he decided to complete his “Homeless Dude ” ensemble by throwing in a cart full of grocery bags. Good thing they were arranged in an orderly fashion or someone would’ve mistaken him for another hobo and tossed him some coins.

Except that this one had enough money to last him a couple of lifetimes.

Crazy dude’s got the last laugh. He probably hadn’t seen a coin for several years now. Dude must be lying on sacks of money and wipes his ass with hundred dollar bills.

But is just too lazy to go to a salon and/or take a shower. Apparently, it is overrated. He’s grunge that way.

FOOTNOTE:

Let me remind you again…

You look great when you clean up, Mr. Reeves. Just sayin’.

True Rumor

Life wasn’t as exciting as it should be, so we tell things that are false.  It doesn’t matter if they’re true, as along as they’re believed.

Oh My Darling, Calvin Klein

I just would like to spare a moment to thank Calvin Klein for sharing with me (and to the world) these gorgeous specimens of manhood…

Travis Fimmel	Damien Van Zyl
Fred Ljungberg (…And let’s not forget that he’s a midfielder for Arsenal)	Scott Barnhill (I’m not sure if this is for Calvin Klein, but he did model for CK)
Vincent Kartheiser (Too bad, it’s only jeans…)	Butch Walker

Yes, to some people I might come across as a feminist–and they may be right.
But I’m NOT dead.

And just because…

… Another Travis …

God Bless You, My Darling Calvin Klein!

Must Turn Left, Must Turn Right

They’re both convinced
that a sudden surge of emotion bound them together.
Such certainty is beautiful,
but uncertainty is more beautiful still.

Since they’d never met before, they’re sure
that there’d been nothing between them.
But what’s the word from the streets, staircases, hallways –
perhaps they’ve passed each other a million times?

I want to ask them
if they don’t remember –
a moment face to face
in some revolving door?
perhaps an “excuse me” muttered in a crowd?
a curt “wrong number” caught in the receiver?
but I know the answer.
No, they don’t remember
They’d be amazed to hear
that Chance has been toying with them
now for years.

Not wholly ready yet
to transform into fate for them,
it pushed them close, drove them apart,
it barred their path,
and,suppressing a giggle,
then leaped aside…

(An excerpt from Szymborska’s poem “Love at First Sight”, taken from the movie Turn Left, Turn Right)

Life is full of coincidences—-

Even two parallel lines might someday meet.
So we must never forget that sometimes,
We should turn right and turn left,
Because we may never know what we just missed.

This gave me hope…I hope when I turn left or right, I’ll see him.  ^__^

That would pretty much be a wholly wonderful day.

Midnight Ballroom Dancing

A man hugged me while the sky’s starting to fall.
It was the beginning of the end of the world.
I looked up so I could see his face.
I wanted to see if he’s dashing. And he was.

Then my mother woke me. I was dreaming.

It made me smile. I mean, there I was, about to die, but all I could think of was, “Is he hot?”
Stupid.
Or am I?
It was a dream but I fit perfectly in his arms. It was wonderful.
But we were about to die. We will never have our dances in the moonlight.

And then it got me into thinking, “Will I find anything like this in my life? Before I die?”
Which will be around 36, my appointed age of death. Which worries me because I might not actually die and suicide is out of the question. But that’s another story.

Sometimes, on my sober moods, I’d ask myself,

Will I find someone who would consent on ballroom-dancing with me in the moonlight?
Join me in midnight walks?
Will he want to eat strawberry ice cream with me at 4am?
Sit with me in anime marathons?
Let me eat all his fries without eating mine, pig that I am?

Will I actually want him with me during all this?

I’m not exactly looking for a Rodrigo Santoro clone. Although it would definitely be good if he’s nice to look at because if I say looks doesn’t matter, it would amount to monumental hypocrisy.

But more importantly,

I’d look at a guy and think, “Will I still sigh over him while he sits on the toilet in all his bedraggled glory?” If yes, then maybe it’s love. He could be who he is and I’ll accept him wholeheartedly without him worrying that he might disgust me. And he, in turn, won’t be horrified with me in the mornings. I have a terrible bedhead and I resembled a deranged witch.

I know most of us girls sometimes expect too much and guys are just guys. But is it too much to ask to LET ME FINISH MY OWN DAMNED FRIES?!

And if I’m not answering any of your text messages don’t feel bad and never assume that I hate you.
The reason is nothing complicated: I MERELY HAVE NO LOAD.

God, Please Save Me From Your Followers

Let me tell you of a major annoyance in my life lately: PEOPLE SENDING ME CHAIN MAILS OR POSTING BULLETINS TELLING ME TO PROVE I’M NOT ASHAMED OF LOVING JESUS CHRIST BY FORWARDING AND/OR POSTING THE SAID MESSAGES TO OTHER PEOPLE.

Well, boys and girls, whether or not I love Jesus Christ is between me and Jesus.  How I feel or not feel about Him should not matter to you.  As I’ve always said, I’m responsible for my own soul and if it ends up having dinner with Satan on Judgment Day, it should not be anyone’s problem but mine.  Hell, I’m not even sure if I really do have a soul.  Besides, Preach Master J knows how I feel about Him; otherwise I would have serious doubts on His omnipotence.

But in the interest of satisfying the nosiness of the faithful, yes, I do love Jesus.  I mean, what’s not to love?  First off, I’d give you the mother of all my reasons:  Jesus is hot.  Hes got long wavy hair, piercing dark eyes and a sexy goatee; not to mention the carpenter’s body.  I’ve seen pictures of Baal, dude, and I’m telling you, he ain’t much.  Alright, I admit, it doesn’t say anywhere in the Bible that Jesus looked like that, but there’s no reason He wouldn’t be.  If God could bestow those good looks on Travis Fimmel, why can’t She do the same thing to Her Son?  Personally, I’ve always pictured Jesus looking like a rock star and God as a woman who had the brains a million times far, far superior than Marie Curie trapped inside a voluptuous Monica Bellucci.  And before you start praying for God to smite me, let me just remind you that there’s really no evidence that God is a man and no, the Burning Bush doesn’t count.  So I don’t think there’s any blasphemy going on here.

Jesus is also compassionate, quite obviously smart and awfully handy in tight situations, like being caught with a heavy storm in the middle of the sea or when you ran out of food during your travels.  He could be relied upon to help you survive.  And with Jesus around, we’ll never run out of wine.  Nothing but good times ahead.  Also, when the mood strikes Him, He gives free foot spa.  Ain’t He the coolest?  So yeah, I love Him.  By the way, J.C. is not a wimp, contrary to popular opinion; just ask the money changers and the vendors outside the temple where He had a Holy Fit.  He’s no shrinking violet, that’s for sure.

And what’s causing my annoyance is not really the question but the fact that there is one.  Just ’cause I’m too lazy to post anything, does that automatically constitute as a lack of love for Jesus?  Or the fact that I have no load to send those messages to hundreds of people?  Duh, I doubt I even know sixty people, and that’s with my enemies thrown in for the added count.  And just ’cause my Friendster said I have over a hundred friends, that doesn’t mean I know all of them.  I was not known for my superb memory.

A different subject title deliberately written to entice you to open it is, boys and girls, a form of deception.  Look up deception in the dictionary, mi amorres, and you’ll see that it’s quite similar to a lie— only with a different spelling.  I believe it’s one of those things the Ten Commandments told us to thou shalt not do.  Next time you post something, think about it.  Are you really doing God a favor? Or were you doing it because it’s expected of you?  Religiousness does not make a person better by default.  It’s what you really do when no one is looking that really counts.

Please don’t be so quick to judge other people who are not as vocal of their faith as you are.  Just because you’ve never seen the person kneel or move his/her lips in prayer or held a rosary, that doesn’t mean he/she does not pray.  Just because he/she does not go to mass regularly that doesn’t mean he/she isn’t a believer of God or the Universal Goodness.   Remember:  God knows all and sees all.  Don’t worry about us.  God and I, we’re tight. We have an understanding.

Govind. Why? Seriously

Well hell, it’s confirmed: Govind Armstrong is friggin’ ENGAGED!

As if I needed another grief in my life. What with reviews, impending bankruptcy and other random shit that I had to deal with everyday, not to mention a giant gaping wound on my index finger which I almost accidentally chopped off the other night. The result of which made my left hand a bit useless—I can’t hold a fucking pen. If you’re planning to draw for a living, you’d need fingers and be able to grip them.

I don’t know what his girlfriend looked like but I’m guessing she won’t be fat and depressed. She won’t ever have problems of an empty LPG, electric bills and taxi fares. Govind would drive the lucky ho everywhere. I would also guess she doesn’t gorge on Doritos, M & M’s and Coke for lunch. She would be too dignified for that. I doubt the sexy(even if he’s an infidel) chef would allow his precious lady love to eat shit like that.

*Starts looking for a bag of Cheetos*

Daria Asks You!

“Can you teach me how to twirl my hair and stare vacantly?”

– Daria

That Ichigo. He Surprises Me.

“Unless I grip my sword, I cannot protect you.
While gripping the sword, I cannot embrace you.”

-Kurosaki Ichigo, Bleach

Oh, Those Bad Boys…

The boys I mean are not refined

They go with girls who buck and bite…

They speak whatever’s on their mind

They do whatever’s in their pants

The boys I mean are not refined

They shake the mountain when they dance…

-e.e. cummings

A girl might grow roots and develop mold while waiting for Mr. Right to come along, but wouldn’t it be more exciting to go gallivanting on the wild side with Mr. Wrong?  Myself, I’ve thought about this during the dull moments of my life.  These events mostly occur while sipping coffee alone at McDonald’s or waiting for my Chinese takeouts.  Boredom usually does this to you.  That, or watching giggling couples (yes, even the guy giggles!) hold hands and walk to the sunset in a perfectly synchronized ensemble of safe earth colors, being disgustingly matched and well-groomed.  Yup, they look good together.

They also look boring.

Whatever happened to the “opposites attract?”  North and South?  Light and dark?  The Yin and the Yang?  Whatever happened to the balance? Whatever happened to the mystery?  I’d see a hot guy with a mousy girl and I’d definitely ask, “Whatever does he see in her?”  “Is it her intelligence?”  “Does she resemble Venus, or at least Alessandra Ambrosio, when she’s naked? What?” And a whole lot of different questions would follow to boggle the mind. They might look odd but they would be more interesting. But when I see two beautiful people together, I’ll just nod wisely and say, “It makes sense”.  That’s it.  End of story.

And of course, back to the real subject at hand:  The pursuit of Mr. Right.Who exactly is Mr. Right, I ask.

And how do I know he’s “right”?

What if Mr. Right is all wrong?

What does being Mr. Right mean?  What makes him right?

Is he right because he already has a house, a car and a steady well-paying job?

Is he right because he’s loyal and kind?  A lot of people can be loyal and kind.  Hell, my dog is loyal and kind and does not talk back.

Or is it because my Mama likes him a lot and she could already picture me tending his garden when she comes around for a customary Sunday get-together in an angst-free pastel-colored suburban environment?

Kill me now.  Please.  Besides, I couldn’t even make a single mongo seed live, much less grow a garden.

On the other hand, there’s Mr. Wrong.

Ah, Mr. Wrong, the kind of guy my Mama warned and threatened me about…the villain with an attitude and wrong for all sorts of reason, but whose appeal lies in his very delightful wrongness.  Who could resist him?  He is the Pirate.  The Rake.  The Dashing Adventurer.  The Gentleman Highwayman.  The Rebel without a Cause.

Smokin' Jimmy Dean

The proverbial bad boy.  Or so those romance novels led us to believe.

By bad boy, I don’t mean that he should be an ex-convict with counts of murder tucked under his belt or some tough guy carrying around an Ax which would do any Viking proud while riding around on his Harley, looking scary.

To me, a bad boy is someone who makes me laugh with his wicked sense of humor; He has a wonderful belly-laugh that is not repressed and he never giggles; He would be exciting in his spontaneity and he would do whatever he wants and people’s opinions be damned.  He would be very creative with flair of genius hiding behind his insecurities, cynicism and stubbornness.  He would view the concept of love with disdain and dismiss it as a frivolous emotion.

Until I enter his life.

Snaring a bad boy isn’t easy.  It’s often an exercise in futility or something similar.  They are sly and elusive.  They are challenging.  No girl refuses a challenge.  Why do you think girls revel on bargains?  It’s the challenge of finding the perfect shoe which looks absolutely gorgeous, cheap and doesn’t grind your toes to pieces while you walk.  It’s not unlike catching a bad boy.  Now, compare that on the prospect of taming something-or someone — wild.

Think the Little Prince and the Fox.

The Little Prince and his rose.

Think of how it is to be the one to tame the wild one.  The unique and the only one in the entire world, whose footsteps he would recognize anywhere and fill him with anticipation.  His rose, the one he’s responsible for and protects from the harsh elements and worries over.

So beautiful.  It is such a wonderful delusion.

But then I have to wake up and smell the motorcycle fumes.  Bad boys are the dashing ones who ride with the wind and trample hearts all over God’s creation, and some of them could be so mean as to back up and make sure your heart is nothing but dusts on his great highway of life.

Bad boys.

*sigh*

My dream and my nightmare.

My euphoria and my downfall.

My delightful jean-clad paradox.

An Open Letter To My Once Everdearest Love, Keanu

Dear Kee,

Keanu, dude, I knew you were heartbroken and all when we broke up but sincerely, you have got to move on.  And start shaving again.  Just because it didn’t work out between us that doesn’t mean you should morph into some sort of a homeless/hermit/hobo.  When was the last time have you had a bath?  Bought clothes?  You were raking in millions just from Speed alone, not to mention The Matrix franchise.  What happened to your money?

Would you like me to recommend you a less expensive hairstylist if you’re that strapped for cash? I know a gay beautician who does haircuts for 40 pesos with blowdrying and hair ironing.  With your looks, he might not even charge you for a shave.  Or for a bath, for that matter.  Of course, it’s located in one of the most dangerous barangays in Bacolod but that wouldn’t matter, right?  I mean, hell, you’re Neo, The One,  you know 200 or more kung-fu moves, surely you could beat up those homicidal junkies with bloodshot eyes should the need arise.

How do I know what’s going on in your life, you ask.  Well, there’s the internet.  I’ve seen some of your photos and I’m not happy about it.

Perhaps, if you take a good look at these, you would realize that you are morphing into a primate.

Evidence #1: I don’t know how to even begin describing this.  Have you spent a week in an Al Qaeda training camp?  I want to strangle you with that horrible scarf.

Evidence#2: If you’re going to have a damned coffee-to-go, you don’t have to bring both the goddamned cup and saucer.  I believe there are such a thing as a styrofoam cup.  Or a small thermos.

Evidence #3: God, there are such things as TABLES!  Are you not allowed inside the coffee shop?  Can’t blame them.  You need a bath, Theodore!

Evidence #4: OMG!   You are sleeping on the pavement…WTF?   You drive a  vintage Porsche and you own  at least 2  Norton Commandos and yet, you can’t afford a house?  Even a room?

Let’s take a closer look, shall we…

Those boots are horrible!

Evidence #5: Is that you, Judas Iscariot?  Would you like to use your 30 pieces of silver for a bath and a shave?
(The background is badass, dude!)

Evidence #6: If you think throwing up at the side of the road would bring me back to your arms for a sweet reconciliation, think again.  I love you, but this just doesn’t cut it.

Evidence #7: What, is that gesture for me?  Do that again and I’ll break all your fingers.  That belligerent attitude would get you nowhere.  Besides, Lola won’t approve.  She won’t read a Novena for you.

Evidence #8: What are you doing gallivanting in the middle of the road without your shoes on?  Are you crazy?  You might splinter your feet or something.  Get a flip-flop, at least!

Evidence #9: Kee, pay attention:  There is NO such thing as hobo chic.

Evidence #10: Is that shoe your new girlfriend?  You take it everywhere and it looks horrible.

You used to look like this, remember?  Don’t you miss this face?
Please, do NOT fight the hotness.

With All My Love,

Pines

FOOTNOTE:

The images that started the goddamned  gay rumors…

These are some publicity shots for some damned theater production that Keanu  starred in when he was  younger.  I forgot the name because, well, who cared about it?  It’s probably crap anyway.  Like Chain Reaction—an awful waste of the brilliantness that is Morgan Freeman.

The World Is A Little Less Glamorous And Beautiful Today

Before Dita Von Teese, there was Bettie Page — the iconic and the most famous and admired American pin-up model of the 1950′s. Her curves, sweet smile, sparkling eyes, unique black-banged hairstyle and penchant for posing in nudes and in fetish costumes catapulted her to iconic status over the decades since her disappearance in 1957. Her images have inspired a lot of artists, designers, writers, bdsm enthusiasts, and the general public.

But tonight, we lost an icon.
This was the message on Bettie’s Website by her agent, Mark Roesler:

With deep personal sadness I must announce that my dear friend and client Bettie Page passed away at 6:41pm PST this evening in a Los Angles hospital. She died peacefully but had never regained consciousness after suffering a heart attack nine days ago. She captured the imagination of a generation of men and women with her free spirit and unabashed sensuality. She is the embodiment of beauty.

May you rest in peace, Miss Page, you will be missed. May you smile down upon us in your eternal pin-up glory…