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.

OMFGWTFBBQ!

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.

Defending the Doodlers

Doodling during meetings is one of my quirks. I think I may have been gently reprimanded about it by email today. My boss forwarded us an article entitled, "5 Biggest Mistakes You're Making at Work"


This was number 5:
Office oops: You doodle during meetings.
Overcome it: Scrolling through your BlackBerry or doodling during the proceedings is a no-no, says Liz Bywater, Ph.D., a career consultant in Yardley, Pennsylvania. Indulging in these sorts of distractions not only disconnects you from the issue at hand, it tells others you don’t care. To prevent meetings from becoming snoozy, spend at least a few minutes researching the topics on the agenda beforehand. By showing up prepared, you’ll be driven to contribute and less susceptible to distractions."


And then he asked me what I thought about #5.


I had to defend myself:


Hi Boss,


I'm not sure if I can let go of that yet but maybe I'll try to replace it with something less distracting to others? =)


I've been doodling in class since kinder until college; I'm not trying to defend my quirks but it helps stimulate my mind and this is where I got all the ideas that our business is now enjoying, from the (A) to (B) and the (C) that continually saves us $3,000 a month. I read in college that this is common among artists, and I accept that not everyone can understand or approve of it. I'll try to reduce it but I can't promise to eliminate it =)


Here boss, check this out:
http://www.time.com/time/health/article/0,8599,1882127,00.html
http://www.wired.com/wiredscience/2009/02/doodlerecall/

Thanks,

Johnny Cursive
Resident Smart Ass
of a Corporate Office

 I am NOT going down without a fight.

Currently on my Bedside Table

Is Joe Abercrombie’s “The First Law” trilogy. I have a soft spot for relatable and accessible fantasy books for adults. I’m totally hooked! Reading good books like this totally beats the crap out of DVD marathons.


I wonder if there's a fantasy book of great quality where the protagonist likes boys too. Now THAT is what my fantasy book should be.

Lavatory Literature

One ungodly hour last week, my big brother, the biggest man in the house, was running around the house, short of breath and panicking. He couldn’t find the latest newspaper and he’s in dire need of using the toilet already. He needed to poop but couldn’t because he didn’t have anything to read. It was a painful situation; a somatic dilemma of sorts.


It runs in the family. Say one thing about Johnny Cursive, say that he can’t do the number 2 without having something to read.


I’d read the papers and magazine back-issues while seated. Running out of material, I’d grab the nearest shampoo bottle and read through how it reduces hair damage by up to 50 percent. I would hmmm, nod and be impressed, even if it’s trivial and I get a buzz cut every 2 weeks. Running out of shampoo bottles, I’d grab the toothpaste and then the remaining toiletries. That is how I have learned that the average facial wash has the exact same components as the regular feminine wash. I ran out of facial cleanser one time. Heedless to say, the PH balance of the feminine wash invigorated the flora of my face. I felt rather blooming that day.


I’ve been reading Jessica Zafra as my lavatory literature. I’ve just finished reading Twisted 8 ½. I wasn’t that impressed, not of the writing but of the subject. The book is a compilation of her tech product reviews, and I reckon those were from a couple of years ago. With the speed that technology becomes obsolete, the book felt like reading about the next garage sale. That's OK though, because it still falls under good lavatory literature -- light, amusing and just about cathartic.


My current Lavatory Literature:

From Wikipedia:

Strauss stumbles across the community while working on an article[1], intrigued by the subculture, he starts participating in the online discussion groups, mainly out of his own frustration with his romantic life. As he becomes more and more involved in the Seduction Community, Strauss attends a "Bootcamp" conducted by Mystery, one of the most influential and respected members of the community. The bootcamp consists of Strauss and other participants approaching women and then Mystery and his counterpart Sin giving them corrective advice on their behaviors, body language, and what to say after viewing the participants approach women.


The book then narrates the journey of how Strauss goes through the various stages of becoming a Pickup artist, Description about the various members of the community and how Strauss befriends many of the members, particularly Mystery. He also narrates his success with women,the spreading of the seduction community itself and his life at "Project Hollywood", a high end mansion and a lifestyle plan shared by Strauss, Mystery, Papa, Tyler Durden, Herbal, and other members of the Seduction community. And how rivalries and animosity between various members of the community lead to "Project Hollywood's" collapse.


This book is highly entertaining. I don't think this is 100% applicable for faeries, but it doesn't matter because faeries get it easier than straight men by default.

"The Game" is just like a good laxative.  

The Ex, K's Reprise, and Johnny's Whoremongering

I hung out with my sidekick and my ex a couple of weeks ago and talked over gelato and coffee. We had fun, in general. I wore a plain navy blue shirt and navy blue baseball cap that day. Thank heavens I left my cap in sidekick’s car because upon meeting my ex, he was wearing a similar plain navy blue shirt and matching navy blue baseball cap. On top of the matching outfits, there was a lot of catching up and with generous exchanges of hearty chuckles. To have had his current boyfriend accidentally wear the exact same shirt and cap as his ex, my sidekick was graceful under the circumstances. He got a little jealous, but that’s normal I guess.

My ex is now one of my closest buddies. Ours was the case of people being exponentially better as friends. We’ve been better friends and much better individuals after we broke up. We’re laughing now, so that’s good. The guy couldn’t make me laugh when we were together. He tried harder, and that made me angrier. That irony, at least, was funny.

***

My good friend K has just had his 2nd isang linggong pag-ibig (link: the first). This time, it was with a very good-looking 20-something year-old professor-- Handsome, statuesque, smart and articulate. Prof and K got my blessing right away. However, Prof was clingier than pizza grease. A couple of weeks ago I got an SMS from K:

“Ninang, kami na ni Prof. Pero di pa ako nag-iiloveyou.”
“How the hell was that possible? Isn’t that one of the deal requirements?”
“Eh ganun eh.”

Next thing I know, Prof was telling me about K breaking up with him, and how it has shattered his heart into a million pieces that slipped through his fingers like the sands of time. A tad dramatic, but it's V-day season so it's excusable.

Poor K got traumatized by the first one so obviously he was being cautious. I gotta admit though, Prof had a talent for smothering. Artists like myself and K don’t take into getting fettered too well. That, and apparently Prof also doesn’t drink. But that’s more of my issue than it is K’s. I refuse to understand it. Being without beer or tequila is preposterous.

***

I feel compelled to play cupid or pimp or a mixture of the two plus a dash of whoremonger.

K is a consummate visual artist and illustrator with an excellent portfolio. He’s smart, articulate and quick to laugh. My ninang is a pleasure to have around. He looks good too, of course—a rugged and mysterious moreno flavor who can wield a Gambit je ne sais quois (link: Gambit Effect). He’s from QC. He is turned off by those who express their love after less than a week.

Ex is also an artist. This one’s from Makati CBD. He’s a singer-songwriter (we were in a band together) with a day job he loves and has had a few gigs in film, commercials and print ads. So that means he’s good-looking—a buff mestizo flavor. He’s smart and writes well (he used to write some of my essays for college that got me an A). He texted me last night and asked me to find him a good date who’s just as special as my sidekick. I told him that’d be a major challenge. He's also not much into quick fallers.

I would pimp Mr. Prof too, but he’s still nursing a heart that's shattered into a million pieces slipping through his fingers like the sands of time. I reckon it's gonna take him a while to get that fixed.

Ex and K have not met yet, and that would be interesting if they did. I am worried that those two artists could be the formula for gunpowder so I don’t completely recommend it. It could be fabulous pyrolympics material, or the imploding kind that disintegrates your fingers. Either way, I’m hoping to be able to help find them their respective inspirations at the very least.