Monday, August 06, 2018

Gloria, the Queen of Comebacks


Unbelievable. And yet here she is. She is back ladies and gentlemen. You hated, vilified, cursed, loved, praised her. We thought that was the end of her. Whatever happened to that disease she had? To that wheelchair? The neck-brace? Her big fat fool of a husband? The little piglet of a son?


We all though she would go down straight to hell, but not even Satan himself could bring her down. She is the new Enrile, female and younger version.

 As she holds the third most powerful seat in the land, the country is poised again for another wild ride. New chapters in our history will be written again, and other chapters will be burned and forgotten. The sheep nation will be bleating a new chorus once again; another one of those glaring bullshits.

How did she do it? How did it all happen?

So many politicians have tried and succeeded in coming back, but no one else did it so smoothly, skillfully, treacherously than President Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo.

I was an Arroyo supporter. But there’s still a bit of a perverted sycophant Arroyo  sympathizer inside me. In some ways, I am really happy to see her holding the Speakership of the Philippine House of Representatives.

I believe she can handle this Congress very well. And whatever the legislative agenda of the Duterte administration is, you can bet your ass that this little megalomaniac dwarf can and will deliver it, by all means, at the expense of freedom and democracy- even with all the absentee congressmen and shit.

We can all thank St. Luke, twisted justice and Philippine social amnesia for this.

So let’s sit back and watch it all unfold.

Welcome back GMA.

Friday, August 03, 2018

Lakompake: Ang mabuting balita mula kay Senyora

Grabe, dedication pa lang, hagalpak ka na sa katatawa.





One of the most amusing, and perhaps, important work of genius for the millennials and modern society in general.



Senyora Santibanez, the richest, most beautiful, most dede-full, icon of pinoy social media has graced us hampaslupa with her book on many issues that has troubled her, tested her patience, at mga hampaslupang salot sa lipunan.

So I started reading this and followed this instruction

So ngayon hindi nako shunga shunga, LOL!



Madami kang malalaman at mapupulot na aral kasi mahilig mag research yan si Senyora (at sa tingin ko, minsan may mga hugot din, ayaw pang aminin).

Mula sa mga usapang nagpapainit sa ulo ni Senyora, mga paasa at mga malalanding pangit, mula dede hanggang sa mga paminta, lahat ng yan matutunan mo, magpapasaya at magbibigay ng good vibes sayo, at babawas din the katangahan mo.

Trust me. After reading this, less na ang pagka shunga ko. Pramis.
For some good vibes and easy read, Lakompake is for you.

Wednesday, August 01, 2018

Fall of Giants: In case you want more of Downton Abbey

Ken Follett is simply the best among historical fiction writers, a rock star in the literary world of little nerds like me.

After reading his monolithic works of the Kingsbridge series- “Pillars of the Earth” and “World Without End” (the third book has come out, A Column of Fire), I embarked on another journey as I began to read the first of the Century Trilogy, “Fall of Giants”.

A book and tea time….


It is the early 20th century. Somewhere in England, Earl Fitzherbert had a fling with his smart housekeeper who has dreams of rising above her station. Lady Maud, a suffragette, fights for women’s right to vote while keeping a secret affair with a diplomat who has a secret of his own. Billy, a working class miner grows up to know more about faith and about the truths of their society and started questioning the authority of the establishment. Somewhere in Russia, two brothers struggle to earn their wages and save money to buy their ticket to the land of the free, the United States of America. Somewhere in America, Gus Dewar prepares himself for a visit to the Old Continent while working for the US President.
It all seemed that the pristine lives of the upper-class will remain in power and grace, and it seemed that lives of the working-class were condemned to perpetual struggle to fight and work for some comfort and peace. They didn’t realize that the balance of power and the boundaries of all social classes will be shattered with the murder of the Archduke Franz Ferdinand, that will eventually throw the whole world into war.

Follett gives us interesting details and vivid imagery of people’s lives in the early 1900’s, and how the war has changed everything and everyone. It is the most interesting history book I’ve read, and it is the most heart-endearing and powerfully dramatic historical fiction I’ve ever loved so far.

Forget those Netflix series. Read this book. You will learn history, fall in love, shed a tear, be moved to love your rights and freedom, and get smarter.

Monday, July 30, 2018

The Pact

One of the most moving and thought-provoking novels I’ve read so far. Jodi Picoult just proved that she is one of America’s finest contemporary writers.




The Hartes and Golds were not just neighbors. They were almost like family. They shared almost everything. They were best friends. And more than that, they thought that they would become in-laws since their children were in a relationship.

The friendship and love that blessed these families is something of a fairytale that everyone would wish to have. Until one day, when their children decided to commit a double suicide, and everything went from beautiful to haunting, and heart-breaking.

This book will lure you to the beauty of life and love, make you dream, but in the end it will impose upon you questions on life and death, suicide and the sense of living, on how much love will do to make someone happy. It will haunt you and sometimes break your heart.

When you thought you’ve already figured out everything in life, that your career and the wisdom you’ve gained over the years and friendships you’ve built will be the very foundations that will hold your future together. Then here comes one tragic death and everything falls apart. Is there hope after death? Is there a future for you when you’re slowly losing everything in your life?


Highly recommended for everyone, even to those who are contemplating death or those who are exploring suicidal thoughts.

Friday, July 27, 2018

Tripster A.D. part 02- The Search for the Cleaner

Coming back to Italy reminded me again of that peculiar thought I had on my way to Vienna. Who will clean up my stuff after my death? I need a ‘cleaner’.


People  usually hire lawyers for this stuff, but the exorbitant fees of their services are just enough to kill your dead self again. And besides, lawyers are much more concerned on the legal stuff. I need someone whose services and silence are free, whose loyalty is unquestionable.

You don’t just pick any person for this job. You don’t just bestow a tricky role to anybody, not even to any family member. This is about leaving behind a legacy, clearing up browsing history, and throwing away undesirable things that would have been unthinkable to be associated to your persona, your own High Priest who will dwell in your inner sanctum.
But what exactly would the Cleaner do?

He starts as the Confidante. This is the period when he starts to build up a certain professional relationship with the client- knowing his personality, character and background. In this period, the client will assess whether this confidante is trustworthy enough, loyal and able to handle all his innermost deep dark secrets.

Once he passed the test, he will become the client’s Confessor. This is the phase where the client will share all his secrets and perversions, things he couldn’t utter with anyone else. And this is the time when the client will share the knowledge of what to do after his death, where to look for certain things, and how to dispose everything.

He becomes the cleaner soon after the death of the client. The client must leave a certain will saying that the Cleaner is given right and exclusive freedom and duty to oversee certain items of the dead, leaving such instructions to his lawyer, if he has one.

I have thought this through and perhaps I might go through some details and polish them.
I realized later on, as I was writing this, that I was so occupied on drafting the job description of a cleaner, and so busy writing down names of possible candidates, when at this point of my life, what I really need is a LOVER.

Sigh. Life is so complicated.

Tuesday, July 24, 2018

Prague and a Series of Misfortunes, part 2

Prague Castle was our main destination on the second day. We decided to go out early to avoid the Chinese-horde-pestilence tour groups. I was overloaded with meds to keep me alive. As we crossed Charles Bridge, we encountered a photoshoot of a newly wed couple on the other side of the bridge, the prettier Instagram-perfect spot. I tried to be nice and congratulated them as they monopolized a public space. No need to commit murder in the morning, I said to myself. The target is the castle.

Full-on photoshoot



The Prague Castle is not just one structure, but a building complex on a hill area that also includes the gothic St. Vitus Cathedral. One of the buildings is the official residence of the president of the Czech Republic, and the official place where state events and engagements are held. On that day, the president was not present in the castle, and there was no state event. 



But one thing was present there, that was always present everywhere- A FUCKING WEDDING PHOTOSHOOT BY A NEWLY WED ASIAN COUPLE!

The photoshoot was all over the place, most especially in front of the beautiful doors of St. Vitus Cathedral. People were so charmed at the bride. I wanted to slap the bitch’s face and tear apart her gown. I do not have aversion towards love and how it’s celebrated. But there’s no need to monopolize a public space. They were acting as if they own the area, not letting other people pass or shooing them away.

St. Vitus Cathedral, the only part where there are no photoshoot by newly wed Asian couples
Due to my poor physical constitution and mood, I dragged my friends away from that place and went straight ahead to the New Town at the Wenceslas Square- the arena of political upheavals, movements that changed the course of history of the republic, and the area where all the best strip clubs are located.



It was already noontime and my body was on the verge of giving up. After devouring a big dish of goulash and dumplings, and a large dose of my caffeine fix, I told my friends that I’m going back to our apartment and rest, but I’ll be seeing Fred and Ginger on the way.

Fred and Ginger are not the couple I had a threesome with in a swingers sex party. They are the world-famous Dancing House, an amazing exemplary of new-Baroque style in modern architecture. This will be my finale here in Prague, so I told myself. And the bitch universe understood my intentions. So as her finale for me, the universe decided to baptize me with water, winter’s wrath, and ice. A freezing summer storm poured its misery down while I was taking pictures and selfies.



Wet, freezing, and sick. I went back to our apartment to dry myself and have some soup.

I thought about the things that have happened in these past few days of my vacation. Somewhere in another apartment, some cruel necromancer summoned from the grave Bananarama’s old hit song, “Cruel Summer”. Who’s celebrating? I wonder.



Monday, July 23, 2018

Prague and a Series of Misfortunes, part 1


It was the second time I’m visiting Prague. It was not how I expected it to be in the summer. It was cold. Gray skies and there was a  hellish outpouring of the heavens. It was literally raining needle-like pieces of ice together with the cold wind and rain. Not to mention, those perpetual photoshoots of newly-wed Asian couples. And when I say photoshoots, I mean they have photographers and assistants, equipment, and the guts to cover the whole tourist spots that are perfect for Instagram selfies.

I already had a slight fever, cough, and a running nose. I was no longer in any mood for “Czech-hunting” (I know, I have too many references to gay porn. It’s so obvious how sex-starved I am at this point of my life. LOL!).

Nevertheless, the old and beautiful city of Prague was too beautiful to miss. 


The Old Town was beautiful and charming. And the square would have been boring if it weren’t for these blokes in beer bikes. 



Thank you Prague for the beer and boys!



I took my friends with me to the Old-New Synagogue, the oldest active synagogue in Europe. Why it’s called in that name, I really have no idea and I won’t be discussing it here because nakakatamad. But it has something to do with a popular urban legend concerning a golem who kidnaps and presumably eats humans. I also showed them the old Jewish cemetery, a place mentioned in a recent novel by Italian novelist Umberto Eco. We were basically there to scare the shit out of my kaladkarin friends. Hehehe!

The Old-New Synagogue

Jewish cemetery

It was almost time for dinner. It was getting cold. My fever was getting worse and my stomach was already grumbling. Too many Czech guys to check out but too weak to do anything about it.

Before the day ended, we went to the iconic Charles Bridge to see its charm and the lovers hugging each other in that cold afternoon. And me, the single poet, sickly and freezing to death, looking over the Vltava River, thinking…. “Where’s the nearest KFC?”



Friday, July 20, 2018

Not Today Jesus. Not Today.

My plans were bound to be messed up on the second day. I had this terrible feeling when I got one of the inspirational godly messages when I was already pondering on how I’d get smashed at night. It was already a glaring red flag. 



It was palace-hopping day and we were determined to reach the Schonbrunn Palace before the Chinese horde-mob-tourism-pestilence tour groups claim the best spots for selfies and destroy any hope for humanity and world peace in queues. 



With wine still circulating in my system and little sleep, I struggled to strike a pose in the gardens and everywhere at the façade of the summer residence of the imperial Habsburg family, but tried to be as vogue as possible. To make matters worse, the universe decided to pump up global warming, so the sun was like, “I’m werkin’ this bitch up!”.





It was so hot that we just had to escape from the sun and find refuge in the summery atmosphere (translation: IT WAS FUCKING HOT INSIDE) of the famous Café Sperl. No AC, iced coffees, authentic Viennese cakes, and cold treatment from the bitchy server. I’m even worse than those American valley girls whining about their first-world problems.  


But if I really have to give an honest and cultivated opinion about the experience: the coffeehouse was everything I expected- delicious summer beverages, exquisite cakes, and the charming early 1900’s interior (which explains the absence of air-conditioning). Not the bitchy attitude of the server though.

Over lunch, we were already making plans for the evening. Suddenly I got these Jesus-freak messages from my bestfriends. For the nth time, they were pontificating on the virtue and fun of being vagitarians. And I was like, “Boys, if you're not sending me dick pics of yours or of any other guys, then you don’t have any business with me while I’m in Austria.” My bestfriends are righteous straight men who really love and support me by trying to convert me to heterosexuality.

Right then and there, I should’ve understood that it was a red flag, that something was coming up to stop me. Deep inside I was saying, ‘not today Jesus. Not today.’

In the afternoon we were in the gardens of Belvedere Palace when I realized that what I was feeling wasn’t just a case of prolonged hangover. My throat was dry. I had a slight cold. I was going to be sick. To make matters worse, my legs were hurting so bad because of the long walks that we’ve been doing that day.



By the time we were having dinner, we were so exhausted, and had no choice but to get back to our apartment. Jesus prevailed.

So I was back again to stuffing my mouth with that Viennese sausage. Come to think of it, who needs a man when you got something like this?



Tuesday, July 17, 2018

Viennese Sweet Tender Juicy Hotdog

Pride celebrations just finished in Vienna when my friends and I came. I’ve never seen so much sweet-smelling buff guys, cute haircuts, and bubble butts roaming around a city in my life. But then, I’ve never been to any gay pride celebration because I have been too busy wasting my life being slave to the minimum wage.


Even the traffic light is fabulous….


The first day went really smooth. Public transportation is efficient. The city is very clean, elegant, and charming. I fell in love with it, the way I did with Paris. Its rich and opulent palaces reflected the majesty and  former glory of the Austro-Hungarian empire and the imperial family of Hapsburg.






I went to see the gothic magnificence of the St. Stephen’s Cathedral and went to see Giacomo Puccini’s Tosca outside the Vienna State Opera House, together with other cultured paupers who can’t afford the exorbitant admission fee.


St. Stephen's Cathedral
The interior of the gothic church




Opera for the paupers and hampaslupa like me...


We ended the first night hanging out in front of the St. Charles Church. It seemed like the Viennese summer tambayan. It would have been nice having someone holding you while chatting in whispers in the night.






The men are attractive. The beauty of the Austrian male landscape is quite different from the Latin-lover charm of the Italians. I thought that perhaps I would have the chance (if I had the courage) to discover and thoroughly observe and assess what Austrian men are made of.


We decided to have dinner in our apartment, and save the man-hunting on the second day. Since I won’t be having any action at all on the first day, I bought these marvelous Viennese sweet tender juicy hotdogs.




If you think about it, it’s not really the size that matters. It’s how it can make you feel satisfied and give you a real happy ending. Well, in this case, it was a lot better than an awkward night out with some random guy. I really love Vienna.

Sunday, July 15, 2018

Tripster A.D. (After Death)- A Morbid Prologue Before Flying Elsewhere

The plane was about to take off when a thought crossed my mind all of a sudden. Death. I could die at that very moment. The plane engine could explode. Or it could be hijacked by some crazy ugly jihadist. Or my heart could have just stopped beating right then and there for having accumulated all the fats and shits that I’ve been eating in the past three decades of my life. 


Since I’m a believer of life after death, I said a little prayer. Confessed my sins. Asked forgiveness. Apologized to Jesus not so much for being gay, but for salivating at the sight of boners and bulges inside gray sweatpants, for belting out a high C pitch when I see my favourite daddy pornstar, or for being madly deeply in love with a straight guy. And by forgiving others’ homophobia caused by my willful choice to lust for penis (that’s what my friends said).
Having done that. I was worried of another thing. After death, who’s going to clean up my shit?


Have you ever thought about the things that you might leave behind? Have you ever thought that instead of leaving behind a legacy or a loving memory, your family and other people might discover your browsing history (because you’re inconsistent in cleaning that up), journals, letters, emails and private messages in your social media accounts, secrets, and shocking shits?


Well, I’m the kind of person who keeps a lot of secrets. They’re not dark unspoken things. I’m just a private person. Very very private. You can’t expect me to perform all those wild sex games out in the open, can you? Nah, just kidding!
I may not have a dungeon of pleasure nor any adult toy, but I do have journals and notebooks, and letters (yes, ancient snail mail stuff, I know right?), books that would have been censured by elder family members, and of course, my porn stash, LOL!
I should organize my stuff early on and find the suitable person to execute this secret will of mine, to clean up all this mess so I can leave behind a long lasting legacy.
So where should the cleaning-up start? How should it be executed? And who should do the dirty work for me?
As I ponder these questions, the plane made an abrupt landing. I was now on solid ground.
Finally! Hello Vienna!

Monday, June 11, 2018

New Man in Town

I resigned. Managing bullshit is not really for me. It was never my plan. It was a job that has taken up so much of my life, so much of my efforts, and so much of my time. It was a job that I hated so much since day one.

Now I’m in a month-long break. Not vacation. Just a break. A moment in my lifetime where I can get back my life for a while, think things through, make definite plans if it’s even possible in this volatile existence, do things I have been thinking of doing in the past, and try to live life as much as possible in this short period of time.

Many things that I can think about- how to lose all this belly fat, small business, writing projects, what should I do with this blog, etc.

Some friends told me that I wasn’t thinking clearly. Some of my colleagues thought that I was acting so immature for somebody in his thirties (yes, my mind is still that of a 20-year-old young adult). But I just couldn’t take it anymore being fucked up every single day, quarreling over small things, having nervous breakdowns when dealing with petty issues like we were NASA handling an apocalyptic crisis, like that of an asteroid about to hit Earth. That’s a lot of bullshit and it was becoming an everyday routing. Bullshit. Bullshit. Bullshit.

Life is gonna be different from now on, especially now that I have a pauper’s wage. I would have to cutback on a lot of things- eating spree, book hoarding, travelling, male prostitutes, stuff  sad and creepy bachelors do, you know, the usual.

I don’t know what really lies ahead of me. I just feel like it’s going to be better from now on. And I really do hope it would be better. I hope to find happiness now that I have more time to do things that I love doing. Less stress. And just live life!

Thursday, May 24, 2018

Age of Shadows

I am a superficial being. I judge books by its cover. And when it comes to movies, I judge it by the looks of the actors. And this is my case as regards to the South Korean 2016 movie “Age of Shadows”, screened at the 15th Florence Korea Film Festival, last year. Yes, LAST YEAR. Because I have no other better things to write about this year and I was supposed to be posting my humble review last year. So here I am. 

from asianwiki.com


It has the ingredients of a good movie. Such as Song Kang Ho. Ok, he is no Chris Hemsworth, but he’s one heck of a great deal in Korean cinema, plus the fact that it was a movie by Kim Jee-won, maker of cult movies, makes it really an impressive work of a cinematic art.

Song Kang Ho, from asianwiki.com
And as cherry-topping that makes it a must-see are two exceptional actors- Gong Yoo (release the massive fan-girling!) and my personal object of desire- Um Tae-Goo.

Gong Yoo from scoopnest.com
Let’s take a moment to discuss this object of my fantasy Um Tae-Goo. I honestly do not have a professional opinion, not even the qualification, to be able to judge him and say that he’s an exceptional actor. No. I don’t know what the deal is with this guy, but the way he did his role as the mean bad guy in this movie really made me desire him so badly. It think it’s his deep husky voice. It’s the fierce glare he does when he looks you in the eye. I dunno. I thought he was really sexy, that I started ovulating even without ovaries and all that shit.

Uhm Tae Goo 
Back to the movie.

Age of Shadows is set in 1920’s Japanese-occupied Korea. A Korean police captain was dispatched to track down undercover revolutionaries, motivated also by hefty rewards from the Japanese government.

His mission to unmask whatever secret plans the revolutionary movement has turned out to be his undoing, as it revealed the inclinations of his inner soul.

A war movie with exciting and exceptionally choreographed action scenes. It’s a war movie that doesn’t glorify or sugar-coats heroism, but reflects the human soul, and character of a man and his good nature when he faces the predicament between prestige and survival or salvaging humanity and brotherhood. 


Great cinematography, interesting plot, Song Kang Ho, and Gong Yoo. What else do you want?  

Wednesday, May 09, 2018

Stoker


First and foremost, I watched this because of Nicole Kidman. I got even more interested when I learned that it was one of Park Chan-wook’s masterpieces. In this movie, combining the beauty and talent of Nicole Kidman, the genius of Korean master movie-maker Park Chan-wook, the charm of Matthew Goode (soooo good I orgasmed), and Mia Wasikowska’s talent in projecting an eccentric (psychologically and sexually) girl, you get Stoker, one of some awesome weird shit I’ve seen so far.



India Stoker (Mia Wasikowska) is an eccentric girl who doesn’t like to be touched. Well, if you have a towering beauty of a dysfunctional mother Evelyn Stoker (Nicole Kidman), I doubt you’d be an average girl.


Her coming-of-age brought some disastrous and ominous changes in her life- her dad died in a car accident, and a long lost Uncle Charlie suddenly appeared in their lives. His arrival in their house would awaken unexpected feelings and desires, a series of disappearances, and the unfolding of secrets and history of a family scarred by violence and mystery.



Park Chan-wook showcased again in this movie his mastery of the cinematographic art- sophisticated imagery, ever so mind-enticing plot development, and the oozing sexiness of Matthew Goode and Nicole Kidman in their characters. I never thought that Park Chan-wook can make an exquisite Hollywood movie. As a rule, Hollywood movies are generally sugar-coated über-glamourized. But this one proved me wrong as Park Chan-wook masterfully executed a beautiful noir that would shake your mind, soul and morals to the core. You simply have to watch.




Wednesday, May 02, 2018

Speaking of Korean Tension... The Berlin File

The Berlin File is a 2013 thriller/action movie directed by the godfather of Korean action movies Ryoo Seung-wan, and it was featured at the 14th Florence Korea Film Fest 2016. In this edition of the film festival, I discovered Ha Jung-woo. Hmmm… boner alert.



The story is about North Korean special agent Pyo Jong-Seon who was negotiating an arms deal with terrorists in a hotel that was eventually busted by Israel’s Mossad. In the mean time, a South Korean agent is also running after Pyo and investigating the failed arms deal. So, Pyo, in addition to running away from an executioner from North Korea and other spies from South Korea, was also trying to figure out who set him up and his wife who was working in the North Korean embassy as an interpreter, and who’s the double agent.

I know what you’re thinking. This review is fucked up right? I know! It’s a fucking spy movie. I just can’t simplify the plot here. But I can guarantee you that it is worth it.

Superb acting. I mean, a guy like Ha Jung-woo holding a gun. Sigh, sexy. But seriously, the action scenes and the convoluted story line are quite breath-taking. It was thrilling and interesting to watch that you would almost wish that the real thing should be this exciting, and not as boring as handshakes and smiles between a stiff president and a pudgy-faced despot.


Monday, April 30, 2018

Whose day is it anyway?

It’s a public holiday to celebrate the achievements of workers, a day that originated from the sweat, tears, and efforts of labour unions. It’s our day. Workers. The day we commemorate the legal establishment of the 8-hour day. A victory of the proletariat, the communists, the socialist, the people.

circa 2002, my first ever political rally


Where the fuck will I be today?

I won’t be marching on the streets like I used to when I was a young hippie-looking deranged activist. I will be flipping burgers. Serving my boss. Serving the horde of hungry people with their shitload sentiment of entitlement to be served with the license of abusing workers over the counter.

In the meantime, underpaid and labour-rights deprived workers in other sectors will be in their homes, not to relax, but to brood on the fact that there are no choices left for them but to shut up and strive in their jobs as taxpayers money went down the drain of the financial black holes in banks, parliamentarian pockets, and capitalists.

There’s so much wrong with May 1. This is not anymore about ranting about the fact that I can’t take a holiday on this date, but about the fact that nobody really cares anymore about the very essence of this holiday. It’s just another day to stay at home or be somewhere else.

And all those grand speeches by left-wing leaders that they spew in rallies they hold in large piazzas here? Meaningless. They don’t mean a thing, especially when we have more taxes than earned money. When people can’t pay for their homes, when young couples can’t be certain of their future, when the youth can’t even get decent jobs and decent paychecks, when many labourers are exposed to exploitations and opportunist capitalists, what the fuck are we celebrating?

On a day like this, why are capitalists getting more benefits than its workers?

On a day like this, why are we forced to embrace shitty working conditions?

On a day like this, why is it that the economy is growing at the expense of our ever thinning wallets?

On a day like this, why is the “think positive” culture is not paying the bills of average families and not ensuring a better future for the youth and “negative” people like me (fuck those I’m-all-about-positivity-rich-kid-life-guru!)?

Tell me why?


Quitting is like...


Quitting my job is like trying to divorce a rich psychotic and violent husband and ending a toxic relationship but I just can’t do it because life is hard and money is everything. So here I am, back again at my laptop, whining and whining and whining all the way.

Today I spoke with the owner of the restaurant and told him that I have changed my mind and I have chosen to remain and continue my work as manager. But he said that after what happened, he thinks that I'm not really fit to do that role. I didn’t even try to refute that. All I want is some source of income and a job minus the responsibilities, hassles and bullshit, but with the same salary. So I'm gonna be just one of his bitches working for him. I have no qualms about that. 

I got what I want. Salary maybe lesser, but I am fine with what I got from this shitty deal with my boss. I was one step away from freedom, but I threw away that chance because of one thing- NO CLEAR AND WELL-PLANNED EXIT STRATEGY.

My attempt to quit was not an impulsive choice. I’ve had it in mind since day one. But the timing was not quite ideal because I haven’t considered many aspects. Which aspects, you might ask? I have no idea. I’ve been watching too many videos about quitting one’s job and my head is about to burst.

But anyway, it’s a new path for me and I have to remind myself constantly that from now on, this is a temporary thing, that there’s another goal that I must achieve (beside getting a boyfriend who is willing to support me, lol!).

Good bye April. You’ve been such a pain in the ass. When I see you next year, I hope you’re not as bitchy as you were this year.


Wednesday, March 21, 2018

Silver Screen Delights- from sexy black men, love and beastiality, to hot Russian spy

This is not a review, just a wild raving of someone who was lucky enough to find time to go to the cinema house. And these are the movies I’ve seen recently.

Black Panther

Ladies and gay men, this movie is a must. The story of how an African prince from Wakanda, an obscure and totally unknown nation in Africa, came to power and experienced the weight of his responsibility as king and super hero, and his grand purpose for his country and the world. More than that, I can’t help myself from salivating at the sight of half naked sexy black men wrestling in a pool.



Oh my God it was talong galore! Call me ignorant and superficial, I don’t care! I am superficial. I won’t be commenting about superb acting by Chadwick Boseman, Michael B. Jordan, or Lupita Nyong’o. I’m not commenting any of that. However, special mention must be made for Boseman’s and Jordan’s torso, and Winston Duke’s hot dad bod (just the way I like it). The costumes however were fabulous and special effects were superb. Plot was ok, which is a great feat for a Hollywood superhero movie that promises nothing but humor and special effects.

Can’t wait to see a porn parody of this movie though. Tag libog na naman po ako!

The Shape of Water

A creature from the sea we commonly call “shokoy”, a mute, a gay artist, and a feisty black woman- the heroes in a movie set in the 1950’s, a time when a mute will be locked up in an institution, homo will be bashed and imprisoned, and a feisty black woman will be shot without any hesitation. In some ways, it is a movie that denounces social conventions created by bigots, Republican Christians, and idiots.



The movie is free of Hollywood’s special effects. It actually has a good storyline, good acting, and, I don’t know, a different kind of twist? I mean, what is it like fucking a shokoy? Or kissing a fish? Falling in love with a sea creature and having sex with him- is this considered beastiality?

This is a movie that talks about love that has no boundaries. Now, when I eat sushi, I can’t stop thinking about that shokoy penis inside a woman. Disturbing, intriguing, though-provoking. Boner killer. Lol!

Red Sparrow

A young Russian girl became his uncle’s pawn in a game of espionage after witnessing the murder of a scion orchestrated by the Russian government. To save her from being liquidated, she had to undergo special training in a very elite and unique force called Sparrows. They were trained not for combat or technology wars. They were trained to become professional whores- to manipulate and seduce in order to obtain information or eliminate enemies. I enjoyed looking at Russian guys very much. LOL!



Jennifer Lawrence was so hot and sexy that for a moment I thought I might be a closeted straight, or maybe bisexual. And then I saw the American CIA agent Nathaniel Nash interpreted by Joel Edgerton. His beautiful mature face and body just confirmed my fabulous sexual persuasion.

Not so much of a “Mission Impossible” or “James Bond” movie, but very much like the vibes of “Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy”, yes, that good movie most fucktards wouldn’t watch. She’s a spy that fights to have it all by being bruised, cut, and fucked up all over, in order to bruise, cut and fuck up all the others who have used her.


Interesting movie. Beautiful location (Eastern Europe). Beautiful men. A must-see.