Taxi Princesses

Natuwa naman ako sa dashboard ni manong driver andaming prinsesa

On My Bedside Table

I am currently reading the Drizzt Do'Urden saga. Idol ko na talaga si Drizzt.

I've just started on book 4 of the 10-episode series, which is also the first book of the Icewind Dale trilogy. This title has been around for a while now and I know it's a classic. It's RA Salvatore's best work. It's also the first time I'm using the iPad for literary consumption and I am loving it. Sure, I don't get to physically flip through the pages, feel the texture of the pages or smell the ink, but I'm able to read clearly at any angle I choose, anywhere I choose. And it's easy to download books online for free. Pucha sa series palang, at 400 pesos per book, I've already saved 4 thousand pesos. By the third quarter of 2011 my savings on books will have helped the gadget pay for itself.

Tapos madali pa magbitbit ng porno kahit saan lolz.

Sobrang dork ko na talaga sa mga ganitong libro. Next halloween I'll make sure to pick up the navy blue body paint and dress up as a drow elf. Ang sexy siguro nun.

My Little Bisayang Baklita -- The Other Baby Gaga

Oh young Jedi, you are. And the force is strong in you as in grabehhh!

My cute 4 year-old cousin from Mindanao is a baklita. Lady Gaga on the radio got him to dance like a Pussycat Doll. I know a good dancer when I see one and this little baklita could dance. Fuckballs he's already learned the nuances of making sure his toes are pointed, his knees are locked, butt out and shoulders relaxed. In his mom's motherfucking heels. Nalokah kami ng ermats ko. Putangina tumutuwad pa talaga. At mermaid daw sya nung pumunta kami sa beach. Anovuzzz ambata mo pa my little cousin. Mahihirapan ka magkaboyfriend nyan paglaki mo.

Oh how it runs in the family. I hope you grow up to be a happy faerie, little Jedi.

Johnny Cursive's Wish List

I almost forgot--I have a blog! I shouldn't stop blogging. I've been very busy but I gotta document some stuff from the past couple of weeks so I have something to reread someday.

I got myself an iPad that hasn't left my hands at all. It's perfect for voracious readers. I may have spent around 20K on books the past two or three years but I could have just downloaded them off the internet. How I'll miss the smell of freshly cut paper from brand new novels. I love this gizmo and everything else about it -- the games, the apps, the coolness. I already ticked that off from the list. Next on my list will be an iPhone 4 but that's for next year. HD camera with flash and HD video and plenty of other good stuff in one device? I want. Pero putangina ang mahal. Next year nalang pag mas mura na.

I've been dancing the past few weeks too and it felt great. I like hiphop, tutting and pop and locking. I cannot spin on my head, but I could spin in triple pirouettes ending with a derriere attitude jump like how a man should do it. I credit that to a couple of years in martial arts and a mandatory dance training in high school. I'm heading back to the gym to gain back some of the weight I lost from all the cardio. I probably won't dance like that again until next year. Next item on the wish: a really cool dance gig.

Sidekick and I turned 1 year! It's been an amazing year for the two of us. And it doesn't even feel like we've been together for a year already. Seems like we've only been together for weeks. We have made each other much better individuals like what relationships should do. Next item on the wish: for it to just get better :-)

Pickup Truck and Pickup Lines

I'm an avid reader of and one of the features today was the week's pickup line:

"You know how some men buy really expensive cars to make up for certain shortages? Well, I don't even own a car."

I love it. I don't own a car. Family cars don't count. link: Johnny Cursive can't drive


I'm looking for a car to replace our '97 Toyota Hilux. It's only parked for most of the week and it's only taken out on Thursdays when it's coding, or when we have to go to the farm. But I don't wanna drive it around the city because it's a manual transmission and I've no more time and patience to learn the stick shift. And it's humongous. I'd prefer to drive something tiny, like a cute compact or hatchback. I can't though; the mother won't sell the truck and give me the proceeds to add to a new car unless I use it to buy another truck or something that serves the same purpose. So I'm looking for something that can be taken to the farm and carry coconuts and at the same time be good enough to take around the city. I can't believe my first car would likely be a monster truck.

Johnny Cheapskate: Burberry and Ralph Lauren Upgrade

I wish I could wear t-shirts to the office; Work requires all my shirts to be collared. Unfortunately, you gotta spend a pretty peso on a really good one.

So I became very happy to find out that I could buy really good Burberry and Ralph Lauren polo shirts at the last place I’d expect to get them—S&R. You’d need a membership to shop, but it’s quite worth it. Obviously there’s not a lot of people going there for pique shirt shopping so you get dibs and a bigger chance that a random manong won’t be wearing the exact same shirt. Everyone already knows that Burberry and Ralph Lauren are of excellent quality and that they look good at the office. The slim fit and the custom fit shirts are perfect. They’re not becklette shirts—they’re pogi shirts. I’ve stocked up on them for work and play, so I might not be wearing my normal plain crew neck shirts as often as I used to. T-shirts still need to be only around 200 bucks, but I allow myself to spend a little bit more for the office.

Burberrys were at less than 800 bucks, Ralph Laurens at less than a thousand. They even still had their Neiman Marcus price tags attached, costing 125 USD originally. My crew necks just got upgraded.

Fagulous (Too Gay?) # 4: Pointy Shoes + Super Skinny Jeans

It's the fabulous way to get bunions.
I did have a pair of slightly pointy shoes back when I was a teenager; I would probably attribute that to my naivety and not my gaiety. Ok maybe just a little bit. 

One thing I've never owned is a pair of jeggings. Those really tight, nut-killing pair of jeans. Pair the pointy shoes with these things and you get half the outfit of Kim Kardashian. Liam Gallagher of Oasis says: “I’m not into the skinny look and pointy shoes. They’re just not on - they’re for girls. I have never worn a pair of pointy shoes in my life and I never will. If you ever see me in a pair, drive over me. That and spray-on jeans”.

There a very small population of men that can pull this look off, i.e:

Johnny Cheapskate: Half-price at Powerbooks

I like to purchase stuff but I hate spending a lot for it. Like a t-shirt should only be 200 bucks. There are certain things I just have to spend for, like books. I know that books can be downloaded or bought from a 2nd hand book store but I prefer my books to be fresh off the oven. I like it smelling of cut paper and fresh ink after I tear off the plastic. Otherwise, I should at least know who the last reader was if it's a borrowed book. American Gods was a book I bought from the garage sale and it smelled like a hint of storage, mold and male stranger. The residual energy was giving me rhinitis.

So I was glad to find out yesterday that i can use my Citibank points to purchase from Powerbooks! Half can be taken out of my points so I only need to pay half. There's this one hardcover (The Black Prism) that I wanted to buy but it's above a thousand bucks; thanks to my Citibank points, I get a 50% discount. I was already planning to cut my Citibank Visa; it's scary to have a 184,000-peso limit. What the heck am I gonna do with that?! But with this Powerbooks promo and the other promo where I get free movie tickets for every 1.5K make me think of keeping this card for another few months.

Also: Carpe Diem means seize the merchandise

“Life is what happens while you’re making plans” is how Kulay, my favorite OPM band of all time, would sing it. Work on a perfect now and tomorrow falls into place is how I like to think about it.

There’s a danger to enrolling in my school of thought though. Isaiah 22:13 quips the existential caution, “Eat, drink and be merry, for tomorrow we die” to emphasize the impermanence of life. However, I for instance could sometimes take it differently and simply miss out on the future effect of my current actions. Carpe Diem has evolved a new meaning: seize the merchandise.

Thanks to Horace’s Carpe Diem, I am now a proud owner of a credit card debt that’s probably too big for a 25-year old dude like meself. Get now, pay later, is an American pitfall that I checked out and tripped into. I don’t even like most Americans that much.
 Apparently, this gold card is both my best friend and my worst enemy.

On my Bedside Table and Some Under It

Neverwhere was really good. It's dark and imaginative. Nothing says verisimilitude more than a book that stimulates even your sense of smell through hundreds of pages.

Currently reading:

I'm hoping this is good.

I picked it out at random from the shelves of Powerbooks and read the reviews at the back. It seemed like a good book; I'm taking chances at this one.

I'm half expecting Shadowmarch to be similar to David Eddings' Belgariad and Malloreon but I'm hoping it would be better. After a couple modern fantasy Gaimans, I'm craving for high fantasy already.

The Belgariad and Malloreon quintets are a classic; but frankly, they are not excellent. I'm sure if I've read them when I was a teenager I would have enjoyed it more. There's just not enough cussing and sex and gore in all of these 10 books.

Joe Abercrombie's "The First Law" Trilogy serves up enough fantasy and dirt that when you flip the pages really fast, you'll smell blood sweat and sex. Loved it.

There's more blood and sex and magic in Book 1 of this trio than what's good for you but the excess is exquisite.

Johnny Cursive's Uniform

Except for actual work days; office requires me to be a little more office-y.

My normal uniform for church, movies, beer, diskuhan, eating out and random errands is the 200-peso crew neck shirt from SM department store. It has no frills, no print, no hassle--for the price of a Japanese meal. Nothing but a good fit, neither slutty-tight nor sloppy loose, the way all cotton t-shirts should be regardless of the price tag. I just throw a jacket or a button-down shirt on top if the occasion (or the weather) demands it. I have them in red, military green, black, white, brown, and 3 different shades of blue. I pick them out of the closet by random, cutting deciding time by half. And because I have no hairstyle to speak of (unless semikal is considered a hairstyle), most of the time is spent on the appearance of the bottom half a.k.a. the more important half.

When my navy crew neck got worn out with tiny little holes from machine washing/mangling, I went ahead and got myself a spankin' brand new navy blue crew neck and nobody else but myself could tell that I bought a new shirt. I just couldn't justify spending more than a thousand bucks (or 500 bucks, for that matter) for a goddamn t-shirt.

The Destiny's Child Connection

Shalala descended from Andre Leon Talley, the most influential
man in fashion, and Jay-Z, hip-hop music mogul. I'll bet my
appendix on it.
 I've always known that anyone as effervescent as Shalala could have only descended from royalty.
I am so loving Shalala; I hope he can introduce me to Beyonce to complete my quest of shaking hands with all of Destiny's Child. And yes it includes all the other forgotten members that were left in the gutters.

The best seats in the house HANDS DOWN!

I've already completed part of this quest by shaking hands with lady Kelly Rowland a couple of weeks ago at the Supa Fest concert! Scored Gold tickets thanks to my sidekick that got upgraded to VIP seats thanks to my best friend Adren. And then got 2 backstage passes thanks to sidekick's friend! My girl best friend Martha and I were brought backstage to meet Kelly Rowland and I was star struck to the point of paralysis. At that moment I think I've forgotten how to blink.

Kelly Rowland was stunninGG. Still haven't received my pictures from the official photog tho. Eeeek! I hope Shalala can introduce me to his stepmomma Beyonce one day.

Little Red Riding Horses

I went home early Friday night after watching Aussy-sounding owls in Greenbelt where there were at least a couple of hundred faeries that came in pairs. Sidekick and I were still ridiculously trying to be discreet so we walked around the mall a few feet apart and one of us was in front of the other. I even left the movie house first because I needed to pee, though it served as excellent cover. I went home immediately after the film.

As I was walking 4 blocks away from my house, I was held up for a few beers with the neighbors—a mix of swarthy swashbucklers, good-looking boys that required no effort being that way, lanky nerdy types and three chicks. Most of them I’ve known since childhood. They were talking about basketball when one of them pulled me into the kanto inuman.

We drank 12 grandes and 4 regular bottles of Red Horse. It was a magnificent hangover.
It’s been a couple of months since the last time I drank with the straight people from the neighborhood. Thank goodness I could speak kanto very fluently. One girl was reprimanding her straight brother for being such a wimp, calling him effeminate. And she called another guy effeminate for not being as tough as the rest of the guys in the group. Thank goodfuckness she didn’t put me in that category or baka nasabunutan ko sya ng bongga. That girl had absolutely no idea what she was talking about.

It’s really fun and quite humbling—drinking sa kanto under the stars and lowering your voices when the tanod comes patrolling past you. It was great to talk about topics that weren’t very deep or intellectual but reached you deep enough anyway because you were creating and rekindling connections beyond what’s spoken. The fact that I was a closet case in a sea of people that I'm sure as hell were straight was a non-factor. Everyone has closets. Mine just happens to be bonggang bonggang hot pink and I didn’t care what they hid in theirs. Of course that was until they started talking about cunnilingus which totally grossed me out. That was the only time that the conversation was fun for all the boys and girls except for me.

Currently on my Bedside Table

American Gods was a good read. It's not epic, but it's very entertaining.

Right now I'm 30% into Neverwhere.

I'm glad I've been through Europe this year so it helps make the atmosphere of the story a lot more tangible. I haven't been through sewers and tunnels lately, however. A lot of the scenes happen in the dark but it's only compelling me to create vivid imaginations within vivid imaginations.


Book 2 of the Kingkiller Chronicles by Patrick Rothfuss comes out March 2011! This is what excites me more than anything. The only reason why I've been reading so much for the past couple of years is because that's how long it's taking for book 2 to come out. The first book I've read out of leisure is Name Of The Wind back in 2009. It was the best book I've read thus far; I found it better than Harry Potter and other books of the epic fantasy genre. I daresay it's a lot better than Neil Gaiman's Stardust. Because I was left starving for the 2nd book that's taking forever to come out, I had to feed myself with Gaimans, Abercrombies, Eddings, Martins and their metaphorical beer buddies. Name Of The Wind is the best book I could recommend anyone.

To Spot a Budding Faerie

My 1 year old Baby Gaga cousin (from the previous post) was singing again this morning. I approached to play with the fella and as I was stroking the little guy's hair, he pulled my shirt up to peek undernearth. I was still trying to figure out what he was doing until he asked, "dodo?"

My eyebrow jumped a foot above my head. Oh dear buhjeezes.


When I was 6 years old, my Yaya took me out for a haircut. The barbershop was closed so she brought me to the salon instead. La Parlorista held out a blue barber cape in his perfectly manicured hands while he looked at me in a way that was boring into my soul. I sat there, bewildered. La Parlorista put the blue barber cape back into the cabinet and pulled out a pink cape for me instead.

Baby Gaga

My handsome baby cousin just turned 1 this month. He’s got all the good-looks on that side of the family: gorgeous hairline, tan-fair skin, almond eyes and all the good stuff. He’s already taken his first few steps and he’s barely spoken any comprehensible word aside from “ba-ba”, “da-da” and “ga-ga”.

He’s got very poor eyesight though. He has trouble focusing his vision and he prefers tactile interaction before he responds with a smile. Therefore I’m not surprised that his auditory recognition is heightened.

I was singing Lady Gaga’s “Bad Romance” to him this morning. "La-la-La-a-a-a.. Roma-roma-ma-a.. Ga-ga-ooh la la.. Want your bad romance.."

To my surprise, my barely-one year old cousin sang it back to me afterwards! “A-a-a-a-a, ga-ga-ga-ga-ga” and it was not random baby talk. He nailed the staccatos, matched the number of syllables and the note progression was very similar. We were all floored! And he did it more than once. He's already singing before he's learned how to speak. About four times, perhaps. He got an LSS for Bad Romance. My cousin is Baby Gaga! I’m very excited and anxious at the same time. Either my cousin has a natural inclination to music... or a natural inclination to Lady Gaga. I’m so proud of the little monster.

Shalala is Adorrrrable

My heart goes, "Shalalalala!"
I first heard Shalala in Master Showman. Garalgal kung garalgal. It was extremely annoying but I couldn't switch the channel out of masochistic fascination and curiosity.

Last night was the first time I saw the TV Show "Juicy" and I saw a really funny dude that I bet is hilarious to have in the same room. Turns out, his name is Shalala! It was love at first sight. He's so FLUFFFYYYYY!!! He kinda reminds me of Andre Leon Talley too.

Now I wonder how to get a hold of his contact number so I can invite him to have a few beers with friends. I bet it will be hella fun!

Too Gay (?) # 3: Vibrant Jeans the color of Migraine

Oh come on. Even this professional male model looks unhappy.

Maybe it's the shade of pink. It's the same color as my metaphorical closet, except this one ain't hiding.
I personally can't werk it so I'm staying 50 meters away from every pair like it was a flammable LPG bus on fire. So props to those who can werk it without burning their nutsacks.

Plus why do you want to pull something off that was already rancid 2 years ago?!

Hung and Over

I was nursing a pretty awful hang over today. Sidekick said that he didn't like to drink too much because the following day becomes rendered useless. And I agree -- the better part of the day was spent sleeping and drooling and eating and drooling.

Bitch in a bottle
Culprit: Gran Matador Brandy at the Enkanto Inuman. Oh that motherfucking bitch in a bottle. The last time I drank brown liquor (Fundador) was in College, and it almost got me drowning in the pool. I so haven't figured out how to drink the shit properly. Next time I'll stick to beer, tequila and gin. And wine when it just has to be fancy. No more rhum, brandy or whisky lest I perish.

It could have been the ice cream that got everyone drunk.
It was Saturday night. We all met up at Pilyo's and the booze and food were brought out; at the back of my mind an ominous soundtrack started to play as I learned that brandy was the poison for that night. The mental soundtrack was a Tan dan dan dan in a rumbling reverberating bass under creepy broken chords, like in an early 80's thriller. Except this was 2010 and I was probably overreacting.

The first hour was spent in silent drinking akin to a prayer meeting over booze, and once everyone got warmed up it became jovial all around. Until someone had the idea of buying ice cream, and then the drunk boys got creative. In a span of 5 seconds I had a chunk of ice cream south of my navel on the fuzzy areas near where the sun don't shine. Then it was cleanly licked off to perfection before I even got the chance to realize what was going on. At least 5 nipples were ice creamed, including sidekick's; thank goodness mine own titties were spared. I guess that's how you bond with ice cream. It was so much fun but we all should not make a habit out of it. I mean, ice cream is expensive and it's pretty darn sticky!

Heard on TV

"There's nothing sexier than a a gay man who looks straight" -- Rachel Zoe

I don't disagree with the words of the fag hag extraordinaire

Zombiosis and How I know Im Gay #2

A couple of days ago, sidekick and I went to visit our friend K at his pad in QC. He's lives alone, doesn't own a TV but he does have a 24" Mac where movies look fab. He showed us his nifty purchase of a bootleg DVD of Final Destination 5 (or was that 4) in 3D, complete with 3D glasses. I got to watch graphic decapitation scenes in 3D and boy was it laugh-out-loud gross.

That's what I do -- if I watch something extremely violent and graphic, like the slow mutilation of a human toe with the help of pliers (a scene from the movie, "Hostel") I laugh really hard. I refuse to believe that I do it out of sheer joy but as a way of coping. My high school English teacher said that it was inconsistency and novelty that made something funny and amusing. Like a friend who slips in a puddle is funny because it was inconsistent from his normal walking. And decapitation by flying car wheel is pretty novel, eliciting a laugh reflex from me. Laughter is better than terror, definitely.

You'll be America's Next Top Model. After I eat your brains
Then we watched 28 Weeks Later. It was dope and violent too. Zombies that can run really fast is fucking scary, man. My inner fag was screaming its way out in between bouts of laughter and curses. Oh wow it becomes even worse in the moviehouse.

How I know I'm Gay #2:

I tried to sketch a creepy zombie.
My zombie turned out looking like Tyra Banks complete with the big forehead; I had to give her a widow's peak so it didn't look too much like her. I was like, "What the hell is Tyra doing on my zombie sketch?!" When you try to sketch a zombie and it turns out looking like Tyra, you know you're a fag.

Johnny Gets a Free and Non-Surgical Liposuction

I suffered from Gastroenteritis for 5 days last week. This was accompanied by fever and vomiting and diarrhea. It was awful; I wouldn’t wish it on anyone.

I am so much better now. Also, I lost weight. I’ve a smaller waistline as a result--back to a size 30-31 with some definition. My officemates were pointing at a chiseled jaw line. Some dig it, some don’t. Although the lean look is great for beach, it’s not something I like to rock.

I’m off to the gym today to go back and pack on the pounds I lost.

How apt that this entry is tagged under word vomit.

To Romeo's Planet and Back Again

It's been what, almost a year since I last traversed Planet Romeo. It started out at G4M -- I was playing DOTA in the internet shop a few blocks away from home when I noticed some dude browsing guys4men. After a few games trying to master Leviathan Tidehunter, I went straight home to check out the website. I was 3 years celibate at that time. My abstention ended a couple of days later.

Good enough for not just a weekend lay, but I'm not complaining if that's all I get.
-- status message from ye ol' profile from the olden times, circa 2009

Cursive's Old Profile
(and it had to be cocky as fuck, of course)

I prefer being serious with someone I really, really like. And since I do not have that right now, I am all about having fun in the interim by absence of choice. I found that it's fairly easy for me to get laid (If you're impeccably straight-acting, and if you've got a brain, a fit body, a nice face and an ample cock, you wouldn't find getting laid very difficult). With the right person I could easily fall back to my serial monogamous default. But I won't settle for anything less than what I deserve even if it takes me a long time. Nobody ever should =)

Now I do hope to meet smart guys who take good care of themselves in a non-obvious kind of way. I am a straight-living guy so I am cautious not to date guys who are out and aren't discreet.

If I had a choice, I wouldn't be gay. But we can choose what kind of gay guy we'd be and I choose to live as a secretly homosexual masculine guy. I enjoy most of what my straight buddies enjoy, and I also don't understand women very much either. I think like a straight guy minus the appetite for cunt. Respetuhan nalang mga chong.

Unnecessary facts (boring or otherwise)

Semikal Moreno, square jaw, masculine, good set of teeth, relatively fit and occasionally wears glasses to take a break from contact lenses.

Sporty Side:
Trained in martial arts for a few years (Jeet Kune Do, Capoeira, Tae Kwon Do) and generally athletic. I miss fighting though. I am now working out to hopefully one day look really really good naked. HAHA. I obsessed with NBA in the 90’s. I had a collection of hundreds of David Robinson cards. He was my idol because he led the Spurs whilst being ridiculously good in math, which I suck at. Up to now I’m still keeping my Grant Hill co-rookie of the year card although I felt bad that he beat Jason Kidd to the title. Anfernee + Shaq, Pippen + Jordan. Malone + Stockton. Sigh. Those were the days.

Geeky Side:
Collected Marvel Cards and X-men comic books as a kid. Reads grown-up fantasy books. Overcame an addiction to Diablo (I dread the arrival of Diablo 3) and DOTA (Kael the invoker FTW!), traded and played Magic: The Gathering. I definitely have a healthy geeky side.

Artistic Side:
Draws and paints really well with a few awards under my belt as an adolescent, had a short but successful graphic design gig, some background in music (played in a band), some dance training (classical and hip-hop).

Miscellaneous superfluous information:
I was fortunate enough to have been able to study in some of the best schools from Kinder until College. I had a traditional and conservative Catholic upbringing. I could carry myself well either in a finer cosmopolitan setting or on the sidewalk, crouching and humbly drinking beer sa kanto hanggang sa mapagsabihan na ng tanod pag masyado nang maingay. LOL.

G4M is where I met my good friend K. We are now each other's fag hags. He showed me what Malate was like, and I would't go inside the bars unless I was wearing some sort of baseball cap or a jacket's hood. I felt like Aragorn the rogue -- surveying, calculating and observing a foreign land that's also supposedly my natural habitat.

The G4M forums are where I leaned about Wensha. Then I'd go there to get a massage, eat buffet, read a book and occassionally meet boys. I met an Enkanto there--through a steamroom dance that involved glancing and looking away, catching each other's glances, a smile, and a beer offer. He introduced me to his other enkanto friends a few weeks later. I didn't know they were bloggers. Wensha Enkanto eventually introduced me to a cool guy who's now my sidekick:

I prefer being serious with someone I really, really like...With the right person I could easily fall back to my serial monogamous default. But I won't settle for anything less than what I deserve even if it takes me a long time. Nobody ever should.

PlanetRomeo is first and foremost a hook-up site. But so much good can come out of it and such as it was for me, although I never use it anymore and I don't ever want a renewed need to do so. I don't need to hook up and I now have a healthy number of faerie friends who keep me sane and grounded. I now look back with nothing but fond memories and a genuine appreciation that I belong to the internet generation.

Currently on my Bedside Table

I swear -- everytime I read Neil Gaiman, my dreams become extra vivid and a lot more lucid. He is the true Sandman and dream weaver. He's one of those very few gifted writers that speak the language of dreams rather eloquently. I'm only a couple of chapters into the book already it’s fantastic.

I bought the book for 70 pesos at a garage sale a couple of blocks from my house, right beside a barbecue stand. I was browsing through some unknown authors while waiting for my barbecue to be cooked and I found Neil Gaiman in the pile. It was a gloomy day and the book cover seemed to reflect the clouds like a side mirror. You just can’t go wrong with buddy Neil. He’s a rockstar.
Prior to American Gods, I finished this book:

The first couple of chapters were boring, but it was fine -- the point was to help me fall asleep anyway. After 5 chapters, I found myself sleeping one or two hours past my bedtime. It's highly engaging, it has a unique take on magic and it is also quite fascinating and relateable even when the writing and humor is old English ala-Sherlock Holmes circa 1891.

This next book always gives me nightmares. Or at the very least, I wake up from a dream feeling very confused. It's a weird feeling to feel confused immediately upon waking up. 

Too Gay (?) # 2: Man Scarves

It's fabulous and absolutely inappropriate for Manila weather. The existentialist question of "Gay or European?" becomes answered by the manscarf-in-Manila by default, I think. Is it too gay? Or am I just praning?

I daresay the only acceptable man scarf in the Philippines is the good morning towel.


Nothing wrong with it -- props to those who can wErk it. Nothing wrong with dressing gay or too gay; it's an option. I'm just going for a different look, I guess. Straddling the closet and the real world is hard work!

Of Relationships and Flirting

My girl best friend Martha is having a few relationship issues; she’s been with her boyfriend for around 8 years now and she feels like she wants to flirt without feeling guilty. She’s curious what her market value is or if she’s still got it. Sabi ko sa kanya maglakad kami sa Burgos nang malaman nya kung magkano siya haha.

She wants me to take her out dancing in a bar where she can flirt. A gay club will not make her feel guilty, but being ignored by hot guys won’t help her ego either. A straight club is the only option, but where? I’ve absolutely no idea where the best singles bars are. I’ve never looked at bars as a place for me to hook up with a girl. Although a girl did lick my hand in Alchemy a couple of years ago, and another stuck her tongue down my esophagus in Obar Malate. I’m only glad that my dick has not gone anywhere near a female orifice ever. Pekpek eeeeew!

When we go out, I won’t want to hang around too close to her lest the boys will think we’re together. So I told her I could be her bodyguard while she brought other single ladies– nothing attracts the men more than a bevy of girls dancing together. Or so I observed.

The problem is, how will she flirt without feeling guilty? What boundaries should be drawn between what is acceptable and what isn’t?

We thought about the advantages of being able to flirt. The feeling of “only my partner can be attracted to me because he’s got no choice and not because I’m attractive within its social definition” is a common source of insecurity, clinginess, self-minimization and condescending behavior. Admittedly, anyone will feel good to know that they are attractive to other people and in the process be more confident and secure. Confident and secure people build stronger relationships. Jealousy is inevitable and flirtation can only add to that – though a mild and playful sort of jealousy is a reaffirmation of love while challenging the well-balanced individual to make sure that emotions are kept in check.

But this gerund carries too much of the stigma and collective unconscious of all the relationships it has destroyed over the years. I asked my partner his opinion about my friend Martha’s plans to flirt. He was uncomfortable with the idea. It was difficult for him to find any justification for it, and the conversation ended with an abrupt change of topic.

The term “flirting” is just too ambiguous and can be broken down into either its innocuous or dangerous elements. Flirting can be a beck for conversation, an admiration, an IOI* or the beginnings of foreplay. And because the definition is ambiguous, a person in a relationship cannot easily determine where the line should be drawn.

So I’ve asked Martha to drop the word “flirting” altogether—it’s too hot to handle—and emotions, even those that belong to her straight boyfriend, are fragile things. If she wants to simply have animated conversations with male strangers while she’s out with only her girlfriends (of course her girlfriends include yours truly), then call it just that – animated conversations with male strangers and nothing else.

Also, if there’s anything that she wants to do within the realms of “flirting” that she doesn’t want her boyfriend to know, then it would be crossing the line. Some couples deviate their lines way towards the left and swing it with other couples, look for a third to complete a night of ménage-a-trois, or allow each other to let loose around town. Others like a quiet and traditional monogamy. Each couple makes their own rules, and it would be a great idea for her to engage her boyfriend in drawing their own lines together.

* IOI or Indicator of Interest. From "The Game: Penetrating the Secret Society of Pickup Artists" by Neil Strauss 

Too Gay (?) #1: White Shoes, White belt

To pull this off while trying to look and act straight is a lot of work. My sidekick says it's a giveaway. The baklameter goes badingdingdingding!

Discretion doesn't always come easy and item #1 makes it harder to look straight.

Nothing wrong with it -- props to those who can werk it.

The Case of the Gym Shoe Thief

I had an excellent workout today. I've been using the Men's Health Iphone Application which has been superb. It's like having a personal trainer but I get to exercise in solitude. It makes me confident to use some exotic routines that I would have otherwise shunned for the basic exercises.

After an hour and a half, as I was getting dressed after a nice warm shower, some barefoot dude was standing looking absolutely troubled. He was talking to the guard and the janitor about the disadvantage of not having slippers sold at the gym. The poor guy had his shoes stolen and couldn't go home.  He left his pair on the floor as he was showering and then *poof*. Who knows how long he's been in the locker room; I left 15 minutes before the gym would close down and he was still there. Probably waiting for the other people to open their lockers so the guards can check, or probably waiting for a friend to rescue him. He should have kept his shoes in the locker. Or had a smellier pair.

The janitor mentioned an American guy who lost his brand new 6K-peso pair of gym shoes just a week ago. Damn it, this gym has been infiltrated by a thief with a shoe fetish.

The gym is Fitness First RSC. It's my least favorite of all the branches -- it's a bit dingy and it smells funky. I don't always go there and apparently I get to add another reason why. I'm already careful but I'll be extra cautious next time; I need my shoes.

I like to stick to my home branch -- it smells nicer, people don't blatantly check other people out, and it's a lot more comfortable. I've also seen stuff lying around that nobody steals. But then again, you really should know why a locker is called a locker in the first place.

One packed weekend: Zara crazara, Enkantos and Angelina Jolie


My friend K told me that Zara was on a crazy sale where the jackets were 1.6k, the trousers were 895 and some nice stuff at less than 500 bucks. I left work early so i can get some dibs on what's left on the racks. It was just like buying stuff from Bench and in all good timing -- I was poised to purchase trousers for work anyway. That's because I got a hosting gig in a couple of weeks. Also, I'm stymied by at least 7 slacks that I couldn't wear anymore, thanks to an inch of gut that came out of nowhere. Wearing them felt like fitting my waist into a closed pistachio. For the amount I'd pay for a regular-priced jacket, I walked away with 3 pairs of trousers for work, a suit jacket (that went down to 1.6K from 9K) and an excellent LBBD -- the little black button down shirt that every dude needs. All the while I was careful about making sure I got stuff that still made me look like a straight guy. First question I asked K and sidekick whenever I checked something out was, "Mukha ba kong bakla pag suot ko to?" I just needed clothes that fit well, sans the frill. Meanwhile, K was checking out cute customers and asking me, "Bakla rin kaya yun? Ang kyot pota!"

After sidekick left us so I can take a work call in the mall while he went home to rest, I hung out with K so I can wing for him in his EB with what he called a cute yuppie who turned out to be a twink that wasn't his type. All I needed to do was be there looking pissed to help him escape. Last week I almost winged for his meetup with a pair of guys who post-coitusly revealed themselves to him as:

K: "Homaygad d 2 guys I slpt with? They told me theyr cousins! And they fcked each othr! What the hell!"
Me: "Fumefetish ka nanaman ah."
K: "I know, right? Sana man lang sinabi nila sakin bago kami nagseks para mas effective! Mga bruhang yon."


I hung out with sidekick in the morning and went to Divisoria. He finds Manila very charming and his adjective for it is "organic." Ternie translates that as messy and dirty, that sweetheart. We bought a few yards so he can have a few shirts tailored. I was hoping to find a good purchase but I didn't find any. I got rhinitis instead. However, I'm glad that sidekick got some really cool fabric; I'm waiting for his finished product before I dive into bespoking too.

Later in the evening, we went drinking and singing in Music21 with the enkantos. There was no shortage of beer, laughter and landi. I brought K and he was having fun with the rest. Dami may crush sa kanya dun kaya everybody happy. Sidekick and I felt free to hug and kiss the entire night which I'm sure annoyed the hell out of everyone at some point.


We rushed to meet K in Trinoma to watch Salt; he paid for the movie after ditching a movie night with us for a dude a few weeks ago. He slept the entire film though -- first is because he's seen it, and 2nd is because he's tired and came from a cock. Angelina was amazing. Sidekick says the movie is formulaic of Jolie films --with a heroine who beats up guys thrice her size while carrying a soft spot, and then concludes with a good twist in the end. I thought she was rad. I think I said "damn, girl" around 4 times during the film.

The movie was followed by a nice dinner with Jan and Ternie at the Technohub in Commonwealth. The service was crappy but Kanin Club Retaurant had yummy food. By this time I've been coughing and sniffling but I wasn't going to let that ruin the evening; it was great catching up with Jan whom I haven't seen in ages. Terni, as always, was a darling busilak and mayumi. And sidekick's always great to have around. We've been together 9 months and it's only been getting better each day.

Johnny watches Legally Blonde the Musical

Just got back from NIkki GIl's Legally Blonde at the Meralco theater. Perfect seats. They're perfect because they're right smack in the middle, 2nd row of the middle box, right beside sidekick and my favorite straight couple. It was a double date. And the tickets were free, courtesy of my fag hag Martha.

I'm really proud of another friend of mine who's one of the girls in the cast. She was gooood. But Nikki was the star and she was in every aspect amazing. Her voice was butter. To assume prior to watching that it would be contrived is understandable. A bunch of Pinoys in blonde wigs and speaking Malibu Barbie? Yeah, right. But holy verisimilitude, they suspended my disbelief well enough.

It was an explosion of pink. That would've been enough to give me a siezure. I don't like pink. Pink on a faerie is redundant, but it was a good shade of pink when everything worked--the live orchestra, the superb set and great acting.

One song made me rethink my choice of clothes. I had to stop and check If I dressed up straight enough that night: plain black cotton crew neck, loose low-waisted jeans ala-Becks and a pair of Nike Air Prestiges that I bought earlier that day with sidekick. Straight-boy chic, I call it (Mental Note: write about that one of these days). My kuya would be so proud.

There! Right There!
from the Legally Blonde Soundtrack

There! Right There!
Look at that tan, that tinted skin.
Look at the killer shape he's in.
Look at that slightly stubbly chin.
Oh Please he's gay, totally gay.

I'm not about to celebrate.
Every trait could indicate the totally straight expatriate.
This guy's not gay, I say not gay.

That is the elephant in the room.
Well is it relevant to assume
that a man who wears perfume
is automatically radically fey?

But look at his coiffed and crispy locks.

Look at his silk translucent socks.

There's the eternal paradox.
Look what we're seeing.

What are we seeing?

Is he gay?

Of course he's gay.

Or European?

Gay or European?
It's hard to guarantee
Is he gay or European?

Well, hey don't look at me.

You see they bring their boys up different in those charming foreign ports.
They play peculiar sports.

In shiny shirts and tiny shorts.
Gay or foreign fella?
The answer could take weeks.
They will say things like "ciao bella"
while they kiss you on both cheeks.

Oh please.

Gay or European?
So many shades of gray.

Depending on the time of day, the French go either way.

Is he gay or European?

There! Right There!
Look at that condescending smirk.
Seen it on every guy at work.
That is a metro hetero jerk.
That guy's not gay, I say no way.

That is the elephant in the room.
Well is it relevant to presume
that a hottie in that costume

Is automatically-radically

Ironically chronically

Certainly pertin'tly

Genetically medically


Gay or European?

So stylish and relaxed.

Is he gay or European?

I think his chest is waxed.

But they bring their boys up different there.
It's culturally diverse.
It's not a fashion curse.

If he wears a kilt or bears a purse.
Gay or just exotic?
I still can't crack the code.

Yet his accent is hypnotic
but his shoes are pointy toed.

Gay or European?
So many shades of gray.

But if he turns out straight I'm free at eight on Saturday.

Is he gay or European?
gay or european?
Gay or Euro-

Wait a minute!
Give me a chance to crack this guy.
I have an idea I'd like to try.

The floor is yours.

So Mr. Argitacos...
This alleged affair with Ms. Windam has been going on for...?

2 years.

And your first name again is...?


And your boyfriend's name is...?

I'm sorry! I misunderstand. You say boyfriend.
I thought you say best friend. Carlos is my best friend.

You bastard!
You lying bastard!
That's it.
I no cover for you, no more!
I have a big announcement.
This man is Gay and European!
you've got to stop your being
a completely closet case.
No matter what he say.
I swear he never ever ever swing the other way.
You are so gay.
You big parfait!
You flaming boy band cabaret.

I'm straight!

You were not yesterday.
So if I may, I'm proud to say,
He's gay!

And European!

He's gay!

And European!

He's gay!

And European and Gay!

Fine okay I'm gay!


Mikos and Carlos:
Fine. Okay. We're gay!

Johnny sarges* a Ukranian chick

It's been a week since I've been back from a Eurotrip but I'm still haunted by Vida, a Ukranian chick I met abroad.

I wore a nice shirt that night -- a black button down with epaulettes and sleeves folded just above the middle of the biceps, paired with dark denim jeans and new calfskin oxfords. I felt confident that night; I knew I looked different and stood out as a sun kissed moreno in a sea of Scandinavians. Vida was a modelesque alabaster female, 6 feet tall, raven hair and emerald eyes. At least 3 guys hit on her that night at the Temple Bar district. She was gorgeous but she was taller than most guys in the room, and she did say that she wished she wasn't such a big girl while hunching her shoulders just a little. As a faerie with a natural kinship to girls, I knew she just needed a tiny validation. I looked into her eyes, grinned and told her she wasn't big, she wasn't tall -- she was statuesque. I typed it up in my iPhone dictionary to show her what it meant: " in massive or majestic dignity, grace or beauty." After reading the words on my phone, she looked at me, looked at the phone again, then she gave me the puppy dog look, touched my elbow and smiled an IOI*. I have accomplished a smooth pickup routine on a girl by fucking accident.

The moment I told her that it was my last night in the city, I saw her eyes dilate again and in the middle of a miniscule grin muttered, "I don't believe you but I'll pretend that I do." Sa paraan na malansa at lason sa angkan ng mga diwata. She loosened one button off my shirt, put her hand inside and traced circles round my chest. I wanted to shout that I wasn't picking her up, that it was indeed my last night in the city and that the reason why I was interested in her was only because idol ko siya. Kinilabutan ako at parang gusto ko sya sabunutan ng mejo lang--I wanted just a handful of hair from the back of her head and tug it once while gigil na sinasabing "bRrrruha ka".

I got away, but it made for a very interesting evening. Naisip ko mas maganda pala ko sa ibang bansa, which felt nice, and at the same time it was the first time I tasted that flavor of terror. Once last year I was tongued by a female while I was out gallivanting in Obar Malate. It felt like kissing tuna sashimi--raw, icky and foreign. But it wasn't as terrifying, because the girl in Obar knew I was gay, and it was playful. But Vida was playing a different kind of game and it scared me shitless. She's 6 fucking feet tall and with what I imagined would be a huge vagina.


* Sarge, or sarging, is used to describe the act of going out and actually using PU (pickup)  techniques to pickup HBs (hot babes). Instead of “going out” with the buddies and hoping to get lucky, the PUA (pick up artist) sarges with the specific intention of seducing multiple targets.
** Straight pickup artists consider this as one of the many permutations of an IOI or indicator of interest.

How I Know I'm Gay # 1

It was June 5, 2010 – I was hanging out with sidekick and my good friend K and we decided to watch Sex and the City 2. 3 straight-acting, straight-looking boys and needless to say, it felt like we were entering a gay bar; you enter the movie without a girlfriend to watch Carrie Bradshaw and you got the scarlet letter screaming “fag”.

K wanted to buy a smoothie before the movie but it was taking him too long. I’m sure he was just talking to one of the guys he met up with earlier. We were going to be late for the movie so I called him and threatened him that he will have to enter the Sex & the City screening alone. Terrified, he immediately ran back to us.

Watching that movie wasn’t my scarlet letter. It was what happened while watching the movie. Midway through the movie, after Carrie Bradshaw stepped out of her apartment to meet Mr. Big, I audibly whispered in surprised enunciation,

“Whoa! She already wore that Newspaper print dress by John Galliano for Dior back in early 2000 and she’s wearing it again!”*

I’m glad my other closeted companions didn’t impale me with a stiletto. *FACEPALM*


* I should note that my memory of this dior newspaper dress is a result of a photographic memory that pieced images from one of few episodes I've seen, another from a CNN special, and another from the movie. Not because I am a fan or am I in any way sartorially savvy.

Back from Dublin

And “Gaelic” sounds homoerotic.

I got back last week from Dublin and I had a major blast. I was lucky to experience the few weeks that Ireland has excellent weather; the rest of the year it’s bleak and gray—like Twilight.*  I enjoyed getting myself lost in the city where the highest edifices are the churches and most buildings are no more than 6 storeys high. The counties are like the Shire and the locals know how to party! I’ve pretty much drank 6 new species of beer. My favorite would have to be the major Irish export and torch bearer of Irish alcoholism – Guiness Beer. I could totally immerse myself in a bathtub full of it with my mouth slightly open.

Apparently I was there during Pride Festival but I never even got the chance to observe as a tourist. I’m too much of a pussy to participate. Probably not until I’m 40. Or 45. Maybe 47.

Not all trips are perfect. My least favorite is being known by hundreds in the Filipino Community as the visiting single guy. Madali lang i-handle kung ilang tito at tita lang ung nagrereto sakin ng chicks. But a hundred other people I don’t even know, including their kids? Some uncle’s friend goes, “Iho, na-meet mo na ba si Katya? Maganda siya diba? Wala pa siyang boyfriend.” Then a cute little girl tugs on my shirt: “Hi kuya! Punta ka sa bahay namin for dinner marami kaming ininvite tapos andun din si Ate Katya.”

Ugh. Leave me alone. I’m a faerie and my sidekick boyfriend will kick all your asses.

I would love to return, albeit with less interaction with conservative Filipino baby boomers.


I’m not a fan of Twilight but I enjoyed watching Eclipse. It was not as annoying as the first two, and there was just enough action to get the blood pumping.

Online Romance and the Jejemon Bar that could

My good friend K had a whirlwind romance that lasted for a couple of weeks. Again! Say one thing about K, say he’s on a roll.

I’m not even sure if it was good that it was nipped at the bud because the thing is, it’s an online romance and he’s never really met the pinoy dude working in the USA. Their interaction consisted of leaving the webcam open so each person sees that the other guy is sweeping the floor or sleeping or whatnot. They’ve been listening to the same music by leaving Skype open and playing MP3s. K was really inspired.

I didn’t think it was a real relationship. Not yet, at least – not until they would have a chance to meet. I told K that they’re in love with an idealized version of themselves.

The guy had a boyfriend and after getting to know K, he’s decided to pursue K instead. But it ended on a sad note for K, when the guy said that he’ll try to patch things up with the boyfriend. And all my buddy could do, being literally halfway around the world, is to accept the fact and be devastated for a few days.

I didn’t think it was a real relationship, but it was real for K. Even K couldn’t believe it but there it was--the same giddy feeling, the same inconvenient fashion of not knowing what to do and finally--the same heartache.


Sidekick and I were taking K around town and accompanied him to Malate and in some of his meet ups, most of which end up as flops. The most recent was with a guy who invited K to meet him and his friends in a jejemon bar in Timog. Sidekick and I accompanied our good buddy, of course. The fact that it was a jejemon bar should have been a major clue, we still went anyway. I hate being mean because even if the bar was jejemon to the bone, I had a fantastic time. There were hookers, fags dressed like lady hookers, madlang people in chinelas and jejemons and a sprinkle of decent-looking people, great music and a chance at getting stabbed by a switchblade--it was magnificent. I danced and had genuine, sincere and unpretentious fun. I seriously wanna do it again.

Life's Question #2 & #3

The first lady and the 2nd lady are the president's and vice-president's wives, respectively. In the event that a president dies, the vice-president takes his place. When the first lady dies, shouldn't the second lady replace her? It'd be convenient for the president. But then again this doesn't apply to Noynoy. Which brings me to life's question #3:

Is Noynoy gay? Because that would be sooo wicked.

Life's Question #1

Bakit kinikilig pagkatapos umihi? That seconds-long involuntary shaking of your body immediately after urinating--what's up with that?

Surely there's a scientific explanation to it, but it definitely is one manifestation on how your cock has the potential to control everything. Just imagine the day when after urinating, you get involuntary muscle movements that last the entire day.

Johnny buys his first suit

Buying his first suit is a milestone for any guy. It starts with his first words, his first walk, his first cuss word, first cigarette, first wank, first kiss, first job, and then a slew of other firsts.

Buying your first suit is different from wearing your first suit. Before, it was my mom who helped me get dapper on occassion. Now I'm suiting it up by myself. I just bought my first suit and nothing says "I'm getting older" any louder. Especially since I'll be a 26 year-old faerie in a few days.

Single button narrow lapel in black. Ambakla ng necktie ko, lavander! Work it, Johnny you biatch!

I've always had trouble getting suits off the rack. Those euro brands don't fit me too well -- those that fit my body well are too narrow on the shoulders, and those that fit my shoulders are too long and loose on the rest of my body. I asked how much getting bespoke would cost and it would be around 10,500 pesos at the cheapest. Hell no. Then I passed by the Onesimus outlet store and there I found it. My first suit.

It makes me feel like a porn star. Teehee!

Johnny is Dublin Bound

In a few days ill be going to Ireland -- the land of milk and ginger -- that's the land of pasty white people with red hair. I'm sure to stand out a little bit. I got equator skin.

It's been years since I got out of the country. Booyah so excited!

Cleavage Leverage

Meself, sidekick, and my good friend K were sauntering in the mall in peace when some lady caught my eye. I became an instant fan. Her cleavage was exquisite; never seen anything like it.

The husband is lucky to have options.

Victor Invades my Gym

I hit the gym a few blocks away from my office building and I always end up working out alongside commercially good-looking boys – JC de Vera, Jake Cuenca, and 27 of their clones. I am so used to it and I’ve gotten so immune that sometimes it feels like I’m becoming straight. Yeah, right. Ulol.

Anyway I’ve been working out absolutely undisturbed and then Victor Basa barges in the gym and then BAM! I’m star struck. I should have someone take a picture of us to get it over with. Gosh I’m such a fan.


Just got a message today from a friend. Looks like one of my arrangements will be used for a concert. Very cool!

Failing Forward and Tooth

The month of March at the office was, for lack of better word, a magnificent cunt. It was so bad that I could only truly write a coherent sentence about it now that the dust has settled and I could just smile at my boss’ shortcomings as well as my own. It’s May now, and it took a month to completely pick myself up, distance myself from the rubble and just take it all in without getting pissed. At least I got a new boss now.

I think it was somewhere in John Maxwell’s tomes where it was said that there are several hundred ways of becoming a winner, but only one way of truly defining a loser—that is to fail and not be able to look past that failure. Failing forward is what needs to be done, they say. See failure as an opportunity. Not an easy task. You can fail forward later. Sometimes you just have to cuss and shoot someone first. I just allowed myself to feel absofuckinlutely fucked up as natural; can’t deny me that.

Can’t wallow in shit for too long because it becomes a perpetuating downward spiral into depression if you get too invested. Can’t be completely alright and happy-perky as soon as the next day because then you’d just be a crazy dude in denial and perhaps a little bit annoying. So give it two weeks.

And now I’m in a very happy place! That’s because I have had my stupid wisdom tooth extracted. I was blaming other things for being grumpy and less than functional at work, but all the while it was just that one tooth that kept throbbing. For the past couple of months I felt like I was getting ear-fucked every other hour like horny clockwork. I completed an EENT checkup and X-ray; no cock found. All the while it was just that one stupid tooth. I even blamed it on a different tooth too! Almost had a root canal completed for the wrong tooth. That one stupid tooth is gone now nd I’m happy as a baby sucking on a tit. Or a faerie on a...
…Cockfighting is so bloody I can’t seem to stand to stand it. Geez I saw a real live cockfight and suddenly I lost my appetite for chicken for the week.

Johnny Cursive is a Geek

I go to lengths so I don't look like one, but i'm still a geek no matter what I do.

I play Magic: The Gathering and went to the Rise of the Eldrazi prerelease tournament last Sunday and I had a major blast. I play competitively at times. But I don't go to events unless I spritz some cologne on. Unfortunately a moshpit of male geeks doesn't really bode well to the olfactory. I really like to be one of the very few guys in a fresh shirt and smelling bathed.

Sometimes in my dreams I play DOTA and formulate my spell combination for Kalel the Invoker. And I've stopped playing over a year ago.

I like Glee, so I must be a gleek too. I've done song arrangements and mash ups 5 years before Glee came on. "Mash up" was simply called a fancy medley before it got a fancy monicker. Michael Jackson, Jamiroquai, Oasis, Jason Mraz, etc. I always assign myself the easy baritone spot, of course.

I became a finalist in the Philippine Web Awards back when I was in 7th grade. Websites + scrawny kid + thick glasses = let's forget about that phase.

I shaved my head, ditched my finger-thick eyeglasses for contacts and went to the gym to look cool but I had to concede. Everyone knew that I was a geek; I can't believe it took me longer to accept my nerdness than my faggotry. Possibly because the latter is what got me laid.

Happy Birthday Dad!

Happy Birthday, Dad! I hope you're having a blast in Heaven. May sabong ata si San Pedro jan.

Magneto and some little girl I forgot. Luna, I think. It's a 10-year old drawing.

Wanting Pussy

I have decided to get a new cat since my pet Joey Tribianni died a couple of months ago. Joey was a deaf albino cat and was a fantastic predator of mice. That was until he went back to the mud as vikings used to say about the dead.

Not my cat but the kitty's got mad skillz! My future cat ought to learn the same.

I am now choosing between purchasing a Persian or Siamese breed from Arranque market because apparently that's where the cheap pets are. I wouldn't want to aggravate my brother's rhinitis so I might have to go Siamese. They prolly sell them cheap to compensate for the inclusion of fleas, intestinal worms and all sorts of diseases hidden under their cuteness.

Or I might actually adopt a cat from the animal welfare society (PAWS). For an adoption fee of 500 pesos, I get myself a dewormed, spayed and vaccinated cat. It's so much cheaper, and it's an altruistic act that I've so very little of lately. The cat is definitely just your average street cat. Sans fleas, but with what it might have gone through, it might be carring some emotional baggage.


Nasabon ako last friday ng boss ng boss ng boss ko. I felt my weiner slowly turn into pussy. I felt so accomplished.

Johnny Cursive's Coolest Straight Friends

I went out on a double date with sidekick, my straight best friend Adren and his girlfriend Martha last Saturday to celebrate Adren’s 25th birthday. We started off with dinner at Tijuana’s in Ortigas (excellent enchiladas) and proceeded to the Home Depot area in Julia Vargas to hop through the different bars there. A couple of beers and tequila shots per bar then headed out to the next one to sample the music and make sure the place was cool enough for us to linger and spend a few extra on additional shots.

Prior to the bar hopping, I have already told Martha and Adren that there’s a gay club right there and I joked about bringing them. Apparently that got them excited. After hopping through around 4 bars, I hung out with my straight best friends and my sidekick in a gay club. I’m happy they enjoyed it. How can they not? There was a freaking aerialist trying to be Pink. And one performer looked like a guy we made fun of in high school, but in drag. The music was excellent according to sidekick and the straight couple. It pretty much just sounded like the same toogs toogs music to me but sidekick, Martha and Adren could appreciate the nuances. I don't get it. And I thought I was the one with the music experience.

Adren was alright with gay guys checking him out, God bless him. I guess the boy is used to it because he gets it anywhere. Martha, on the other hand, thoroughly enjoyed the go-go boys. I have the coolest sidekick and straight best friends ever.

It helped that the O-bar in Ortigas is docile in comparison because I probably wouldn’t bring my straight friends to Malate just yet. If Adren gets groped, Imma open a can of whoop-ass.

Stripclub Field Trip

The experience was...interesting. And weird. I went to a stripclub with K and sidekick in a spur of the moment insanity last night.

It was one hour past midnight. We didn't park in front of the establishment, of course. We parked several meters away then came out of the car looking nervous. 3 decent boys huddled together looking like we were discussing our respective girlfriends, where in fact we were three girl frieeends on a girls' night out. Sidekick picked up a cigarette and started smoking to calm the nerves. K was pale as hell. It took us longer than 30 minutes to get inside. I was laughing at how preposterous the three of us looked. We were all convincing ourselves that it was going to be OK.

"Puta tara ano game na?"

"Teka yosi muna ko"

"Ok taralets.. ay puta atras may mga babae sa tapat. Ayoko na di ko kaya, baka may makakilala sa akin sa loob," K was petrified.

K was being the first to be a wuss. We parked the car in a different location but it didn't really make any difference, except it gave us more time to think if we really wanted to come in. Then it was sidekick's turn to be scared.

"Sigurado ba talaga kayo?" Sidekick croaked.

I convinced myself that it was just like going inside one of those bars in Malate. K had a different way of convincing himself that it's not going to be a big deal:

"Isipin nyo nalang parang pakikipagseks lang sa chaka yan. Andiyan na yan eh. Game!" K had a point.

We came in with a confident conviction, like we owned the place. Then we were asked if we wanted to sit directly in front of the stage where it was vacant. "Ay hindi po ayaw po namin dun!" We instantly chickened just like that. We were seated a couple of tables away from the stage where it was dark enough. It was a small establishment so the stage was only a few feet from where we sat.

It was like watching a bad play. The strobe lights pushed me to the brink of a seizure and the emcee in the DJ's booth was just as bad. But curiosity had the three of us glued to the stage most of the time. One out of 5 boys was goodlooking, and 1 out of 7 could dance. We all got entertained by this one dancer who looked good and danced really well. Sidekick admired his lines and his strength; I admired his on-time muscle contractions and connection to the music and the audience. The dude was a real performer; it wasn't necessary for him to carry a stiffy under a tiny thong and stick it out for a few seconds, but he did it anyway as a bonus. K was just drooling the entire time.

I still had the most fun outside the stripclub in those 30 minutes that we were all mortified about going inside. 3 scared little boys we were.

Johnny Cursive can’t cook.

Back in college I ascertained during my lunch break in KFC that their yummy coleslaw was made distinct by having 7-Up as an ingredient. So my friend made coleslaw with 7-Up. The taste was undeniably KFC coleslaw. He had a face that looked like he discovered the Rosetta stone, so I told him no, I’m not gonna start guessing the first of KFC’s eleven secret herbs and spices.

I guess I could imagine what herb works well with a dish. But I can’t cook. I don’t know how I’m surviving as a 25-year old who can neither drive nor cook. So a couple of weeks ago, I decided to do something about it. I cooked instant pancit canton and added carrots and baguio beans. I finished the entire plate convincing myself that I did well. I had to finish it quick before anybody saw what the heck I was doing. I needed to start somewhere but I guess I’ve go a long way to go. Sigh. I’d rather learn how to play the guitar.


In my group in high school cooking class I’d be the one that washed the dishes. I didn’t do too well in that either, but at least it was far from the stove. When the time came that I needed to cook, I put 5 spoonfuls of sugar in the puttanesca sauce according to the instructions and stirred the mixture as it simmered. That was my only task. Easy enough. I looked up at the cupboard and thought, “how the fuck did the sugar jar get all the way up there?” Apparently, I put 5 spoonfuls of iodized salt in the puttanesca sauce.


I didn’t let my group know in fear of getting beaten up. After all, nobody brings baon on the day of cooking class because we’d cook our lunches in school. So I asked the teacher to help me neutralize the damage and she threw in a gallon of milk and heaps of sugar into the whole thing. My group still didn’t know; they were busy preparing the other dishes. Our puttanesca turned out looking like orange sardine sauce that tasted like mermaid-flavored snot.

We all starved that day. And because this was the first puttanesca my group has ever tasted in our lives, it has also been our last.