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.