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

Elle:
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.

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

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

Emmett:
But look at his coiffed and crispy locks.

Elle:
Look at his silk translucent socks.

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

Elle:
What are we seeing?

Callahan:
Is he gay?

Elle:
Of course he's gay.

Calahan:
Or European?

All:
ohhhhhh.
Gay or European?
It's hard to guarantee
Is he gay or European?

Warner:
Well, hey don't look at me.

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

All:
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.

Elle:
Oh please.

All:
Gay or European?
So many shades of gray.

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

All:
Is he gay or European?
or

Enid:
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.

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

Elle:
Is automatically-radically

Callahan:
Ironically chronically

Vivian:
Certainly pertin'tly

Warner:
Genetically medically

All:
GAY!
OFFICIALLY GAY!
OFFICIALLY GAY GAY GAY GAY
DAMNIT!

Gay or European?

Callahan
So stylish and relaxed.

All:
Is he gay or European?

Callahan
I think his chest is waxed.

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

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

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

All:
Huh.
Gay or European?
So many shades of gray.

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

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

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

Callahan:
The floor is yours.

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

Mikos:
2 years.

Emmett:
And your first name again is...?

Mikos:
Mikos.

Emmett:
And your boyfriend's name is...?

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

Carlos:
You bastard!
You lying bastard!
That's it.
I no cover for you, no more!
Peoples.
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.

Mikos:
I'm straight!

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

All:
And European!

Carlos:
He's gay!

All:
And European!

Carlos:
He's gay!

All:
And European and Gay!

Mikos:
Fine okay I'm gay!

All:
Hooray!

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: "...as 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.