still on (gay) superheroes
First, a musical and now, a movie?
"Ang Kagila-gilalas na Pakikipagsapalaran ni Zsazsa Zaturnnah" is a brilliant breakthrough book about Ada, a gay parlorista who got a stone from heaven, that, when swallowed, transforms her into a hardcore, slightly jologs female superhero.
Author and artist Carlo Vergara did the book so well that it was awarded a National Book Award by the intimidating Manila Critics Circle. No mean feat for a graphic novel, with a gay plot, at that.
For the movie, Pops Fernandez got the villain role of Queen Femina Suarestellar Baroux, a glamorous man-hater from another planet who is out to destroy earth with her posh troop of Amazonistas. 
Her reaction on being chosen to play the nasty Queen in last night's news:
"I am happy to play Queen Femina because she is a villain with a heart. May puso eh. Unlike those other contravidas na wala. I am to prove that villains could have hearts, too."
WHAT THE FUCK IS SHE TALKING ABOUT? HAS SHE EVEN READ THE BOOK?
Queen Femina Suarestellar Baroux is the classic villain---heartless. She wants to kill, kill, kill! Annihilate earthlings and have claim to the much-coveted world-domination. She's a sophisticated alien bitch with a great body in dazzling costumes. She is evil in elegance.
And now this anorexic-looking girl is saying she wants to give her a heart? Give us a break!
Or maybe the writers have tinkered with the original Queen Femina and gave her drama? Anong ginawa nila sa contravida prototype ng mga bakla? How sad.
The book was recently adapted into a musical---"Zsazsa Zaturnnah Ze Musikal"---which became a surprise hit in this country where plays and musicals are only watched for school requirement.
If you were a fan of the book, you would have wondered how the hell could they stage the comic scenes, and mash it into a musical. But "Ze Musikal" didn't disapppoint.
Topbilled by Eula Valdez and Ricci Chan, it had three runs, most were full-house. The scoring was great and so was the choreography. Chan was perfect for the role of Didi, Ada's best friend cum sidekick.
Now, a certain Chocoleit is playing Didi in the movie. Gah. And there's Rustom Padilla as Ada. Argh, mashado ng bakla ung movie. Wala ng class. It has become too stand-up-comedy gay and I bet they would trim down the original dialogues and plots to fit it into an R-13 rating so the kids could watch Zsazsa Padilla as Zsazsa Zaturnnah; when in fact, the book is R-18.
****
Speaking of R-18, I was waiting for L in the cinema lobby of "Kinsey" but he's still in an arcade somewhere in Glorietta. The period movie on sexual revolution (see it!) is about to start so I decided to get in ahead of him and leave his ticket in the booth. The lady stopped me as I was about to enter.
Ticket lady: "Excuse me, ma'am, how old are you?"
Me: "uhm, 19."
Ticket lady: *looks at me from my curly head, black romantic lace top, red miniskirt to my pink toenails* Ok. Just put a name on the ticket for your companion.
I was mistaken for a minor, too bad there was no witness. I 
Greenbelt cinemas.
superman sensation
Everyone is going crazy about the opening of "Superman Returns." The boys, actually.
The new Imax theater at the SM Mall of Asia is fully booked on Thursday, the opening day. I was gunning for Sunday tickets at Greenbelt but when I visited the website, the best screening hours already have strikethroughs.
I still want to see it on Imax, though, even if it will cost me double the regular ticket price (around P300 a pop). Next week, maybe. After the mob simmers down and the girls stop gushing.
But nothing beats Christopher Reeve as Superman. Brandon Routh just doesn't cut it in as THE ultimate superhero of all time. His jaws are not square enough. He doesn't look super and man enough.
Actually, he looks gay.
(Hugs and Kitten kisses for Brew for the pic.)
I didn't know Superman have that big following till now. Two officemates in their 30s are Superman junkies. They have Superman posters, action figures, shirts, mugs, hankies and whathaveyous.
L is big fan, too, which surprised me.
Superman, for me, is for those who hit puberty in their '80s (ie. by now old people) who unfortunately lived in the most hideous decade for fashion. Unlike us who struggled with pimples, menarche and baby fats in the '90s.
I expected L to be more of an "X-men" fan.
Besides, I like Batman more because he is human and devoid of any mutation. But my real heroes are Veruca Salt and Delirium of the Endless.
(If you don't know 'em it's either you're too old, or simply not cool enough. Hehe.)
Superman is a guy thing. I'm not sure if I get it but I hope the movie is not another much-fuzzed-about sensationalized popcorn flick.
But in all fairnes to Brandon (naks, first-name basis itu), reports said that he is super big somewhere down there that costumes had to be tinkered so as not to promote a malicious hero image. Maybe he deserves to be Superman after all.
dad, i'm scared of boys
Dearest Amá,
Ok, I'm guilty, I forgot your birthday because I was sooo busy---not with work but with boy issues.
And how I wish you were here to give me an orientation on what boys really are, how to deal with them, how to shoo 'em, or how to win them.
There should be a handbook on boys out there. And I don't mean those "Men are from Mars" crap.
Something like "You Deserve Someone Better Declassified." "It's Not You I'ts Me: 101 Other Meanings." "Anatomy of the Ultimate Asshole." "How to Get Even with Jerks and other Witchcraft."
A little confession here: Dad, I'm scared of boys.
You admitted me to an almost all-girls school and I never really had a prominent male figure in my life.
I was never comfortable around them.
No thanks to you. You were no hero. You drank a lot, gambled a lot and had a string of women. Ang pogi mo eh.
In your wake, I found out that you had three families and not two as I was informed. I am the youngest, right? So that means my mum was the last girl? How the hell would you explain the marriage certificate you handed to the nuns when you got me into school?
I found out about The Others and I was cursing you in your coffin.
"Putangina mo, buti namatay ka na."
I'm sorry, Dad. Teen angst lang po.
But what else can I say upon seeing the name of your legal wife and children scribbled on sad li'l lilac ribbons pinned on the satin lining of your coffin ceiling? "Alaala ng mga asawa at anak," it says.
I looked for my name, and my mum's. Nothing. All I wanted was my sad little lilac ribbon. Even that was deprived from me.
We weren't even able to attend your funeral. All I remember was my mum and I woke up crying and hugging each other that morning.
Mum didn't bother to explain things because she thought I'll never get it. Until now I dunno the whole story. But I can live with that.
The pressing problem now, is boys.
Yes Dad, boys.
Since I am an only child---by you and mom---I grew up in a predominantly matriarchal world. The men in this family are usually screw-ups. I didn't even have a "kuya" image. And I never really had a guy best friend.
Wait, I did. But last year, he revealed that he is gay so that doesn't count.
When I was in grade school, I was scared to talk to guys because they might think I'm not cool enough to talk to. In high school, everyone else was flirting and I was reading Danielle Steel at home. In college, hmm, I think I became a boy.
I became one of them because I can't deal with them. In turn, I never had a romantic thing with anyone till last year.
It turned out as a tragedy.
He was attached and me, a naive Kitten, thought he was The One. I know he wouldn't choose me over Her, but still. I know, Dad, I know it was my fault, too.
And how I wish you were there, you would have noticed something was happening to me. A father would have known that. You could have done something, anything.
You could have saved me.
I wish someone of an authority told me that what I was doing was wrong. Maybe I would have listened to you.
I wish there was a father I could cry to during those times when all I did was get drunk, chain-smoke and roll all over the floor, foaming in the mouth, weeping over a lost love. All those simultaneously asking God to just stop the pain.
"God please, tama na naman. Ang sakit-sakit."
I was the Poster Girl of Heartache, Dad.
Maybe you would have known what to with me because I'm pretty sure you did that to other women, too. Or maybe I'm reaping up bad karma from all those you abandoned. Maybe someone out there is vindicated and having the heartiest evil laugh.
And you know what, Dad? I gave him everything. Everything.
I'm a selfish brat but back then, there was no "me." My body was not mine anymore, my heart was his and so was my soul.
Sana meron akong napagsumbungan na "Dad, iniwan nya ko. Ginamit lang nya ko. Pinabayaan nya ko."
Sana merong Tatay na nagsabing "Nasan ba yang lalake na yan? Iharap mo sa 'kin yan. Kalimutan mo yang putanginang yan!"
Or:
Me: "Daddy, binastos nya kooooooo. Wala akong nagawa." (uncontrollaby weeping with matching uncontrollable sipon)
Dad: "Shhh, kunin mo ung baril sa drawer sa loob ng cabinet."
Those li'l father-daughter dramatics are always cute.
I wish I could cry on your lap and you could just hug me. I wish someone was there to convince me that it's ok, that I will be ok.
A father should've done that.
I am soo craving for you. Friends can only comfort you as much. And I don't trust mum with these things.
Dammit Dad, I'm so much of late bloomer that it seems all of those things I should have experienced since I was 12 only came now.
Everything was intense, everthing was concentrated. Para kong pumapak ng malapot na Sunny Orange straight from the bottle.
And then there is L. Wouldn't it would be wonderful if you met the First Boyfriend by Official Count?
I still have "Meet the Parents" fantasies, you know. I bet you'd be cooler than mum in dealing with these stuff.
I tell you Dad, mum is freaking out.
Once over dinner, she told me: "Wag ka munang mag-aasawa ha?"
I found it sweet.
Another time, she said: "Siguro, 'pag nagka-baby kayo ni L, bilog na bilog yung face."
I found it annoying.
Kulang na lang itanong nya kung nagse-sex kame.
I was hoping that with you, you'd talk to the guy and me, and play the good ol' father ala "American Pie."
Maybe you were gone too soon to teach me to survive. Maybe you left because you know we could get by without you. Or maybe because even if you were here, you wouldn't have done anything and that sucks.
But there's always, always, something missing in my life since you died when I was 13. A missing nook that can't be filled up with a boyfriend, with a great job, with money, or a spa package.
A part of me will never cease missing you. A part of me will always regret that you were not here.
A part of me will always need you.
And the worst thing is there's nothing I can do about it.
I miss you, Amà.
Sana meron man lang kumilatis sa mga guys na nakilala ko. Maaamoy mo naman kung kagaya mo sila.
I'm still, sometimes, scared of boys. But I think I'm learning. Learning not to get involved with a man like you.
Basta Dad, I will make sure that you will be proud of me. Like the way you showed my "first honor" certificates to your officemates way way back.
I'll make sure I won't get knocked up by a lame-ass jerk and end up as a single mom. You are the prototype of the man I should NOT find. But I guess your kind are the lovable type. So good luck na lang.
You know I love you. Belated happy birthday po.
PS: Yung baril nasa drawer pa. Wala nga lang bala.
Love,
Bing-bing
let's talk about hard-ons
Mental post-it: never drink coffee after 10 p.m. Or at least make it short and decaf.
It's 4 a.m. Wouldn't you adore your mum if she has 2 bottles of light beer chilled in the fridge? I hope it does the trick.
It's 4 a.m. And it's Gary V. on MTV, Sarah Geronimo on MYX. Funny how you have 100++ channels and still have nothing to watch.
It's 4 a.m. and I thought of hard-ons.
My boyfriend's and not the porn type.
Let's call him L. (NOT Lourd)
I first felt it when I was sitting on his lap when we were alone on a couch in my cousin's home-office. My nephews were in their room playing PS2---both cannot be bothered by anything but a PS3.
I didn't do anything. What am I supposed to do anyway, we were not yet "together" then.
L is very touchy to start with. I even had to regulate his sweetness.
He holds my hand all the time, wraps an arm around my shoulders (that's akbay to you), kisses me whenever there's opportunity---all in public.
(I, on the other hand, is not the affectionate type. Unless provoked.)
Not once we got that "get a room look" from strangers. Mostly from those obviously lacking sex life.
And the hugs. Half-hugs while sitting, siksik hugs while eating, full-body hugs when standing. Hugs in escalators, hugs in the Church, hugs at home, hugs in the car, hugs everywhere. Hugs, hugs, hugs.
I am his stress ball, he says. "Stress Kitten" to be exact.
And of course, there's, hmm, the woody.
He'd hug from me from behind and I'd feel something on my butt. It's not his belt buckle, isn't it?
I call it hold-up.
The thing is, hold-ups usually happen in wholesome places---lining up at fast-food counters, lining up for coffee, lining up for movie tickets, escalator rides (what's so kinky about escalators anyway?). Places not condusive to hanky-panky, tootsie-wootsie.
He gives me a full-body squeeze and a peck on the cheek, and boinggg. Hold-up.
I find it sweet.
Once I asked him why it happens (we're close, bakit ba?). He said it doesn't mean that he's horny or wanna do something. Hold-ups means he's excited or giddy. It means he missed me.
It's his version of kilig.
I asked someone about it and he said it's ok. "Kase may nararamdaman yung guy, kung walang ganon it means he's not feeling anything. Look at married couples who doesn't even look at each other."
I dunno how credible that explanation is. I still believe lust has a lot to do with it, not that it's a bad thing.
But I don't mind hard-ons. Hard-ons makes me feel special, feeling ko ako si Angelina Jolie. Charing.
There was a time when we were in a KFC counter and, of course, there was the usual hold-up. L gave me a bear hug and a quick smack on the lips.
KFC dude: *in shock for 20 seconds*
Me: Uhm, hi.
KFC dude: Uhm, welcome to KFC. Sir, your order please. (He called me "sir")
L: One No. 1, one 3-piece wing, extra rice, large mashed potato. Large yung drinks, parehong Coke Light.
(KFC dude turns around and gets the food)
Me: Bi, kiss mo ko ulit.
L: Baket?
Me: Para maka-recover sha.
(KFC dude turns around and hands the food)
L: Ok *gives me another quick smack*
KFC dude: Enjoy your meal sir... ma'am (smiling)
Hold-ups from L in wholesome public places makes me feel sexy, makes me forget I'm overweight, makes me forget my jeans are a wee bit too tight. Woodies remind me that I am beautiful.
No one knows he's having it anyway, they just think we're two saccharine glazy-eyed lovers catching up on lost time.
Hold-ups can be sweeter than those bottomless hugs and kisses.
Hard-on is love.
Hooray to hard-ons. (By now, I hope any guy reading this is having one.)
***
Off-topic: why do guys hate makeup? Once I met up with L plain-faced because I was too busy to even put on lip gloss. He said I looked better that way. But really, I looked like a rat on a bad-fur day.
summer 2006
the bear bitch project: bohol
Hello, I'm Bear Bitch and please let me please bitch about my Bohol trip last summer.
Andrea was very giddy when she found out that she's going to Bohol. I was the first thing she packed in her bags, she's so giddy that she almost forgot to pack her underwear. That girl could be crazy sometimes, really.
And she packed a lot! A luggage, a big gym bag and a hand-carry satchel for a three-day trip? She's insane.
She wanted the window seat but I beat her to that, hah! I was deadset on sleeping off the two-hour trip off but the plane had to go back after taxi because they forgot to reload fuel!
Like, gee. We were delayed for two hours! I slept all those time and Andrea just hugged me, I felt squished when I woke up.
We stayed in this charming cabana. It was cozy alright, but half the time we were in Bohol, it was raining like shit. I didn't even get a tan.
That Panglao resort was nice naman, only that the brochure on my dresser said: "Being a 'nature-resort' don't be surprised with the presence of bugs, moths and pythons. Pythons are safe creatures so in case you see one, just casually walk away."
Guess what, we saw one. And Andrea freaked out and screamed like mad. I think it was the python that casually walked away. Maybe it was informed that humans are safe creatures, too.
The beach was a short cove-like stretch with silky white sand. The water was clear and soothing. I bet it would be good for my fur. And oh, I especially enjoyed the hunks in sight.
There's Andrew, for one. Hmmm, Andrea thought "Andrew and Andrea" sounds good.
In her dreams! He's too buffed and big (I bet he's big down there, too), and Andrea is short and pudgy. That girl is delirious, I tell you.
Andrew carried me in his arms and I swear there was lust on his eyes. Kaso he's just 19 yata, and I prefer older guys. And rumor has it that he was Ethel Booba's ex.
By nighttime, this is what I saw (blurred for his protection). Andrew must have been drunk shitless---just look at how red his so-lick-worthy, well-chiseled chest is---to go kissing Andrea like that. Or maybe he thought she was Ethel Booba.
Damn, the powers of free-flowing vodka.
I, too, had some of that orange thingie that tastes like Big Chill juice but hits like Red Horse. So the next morning I had my coffee in this swing. I think this was where they made out. So unromantic, they should have done it on the beach.
We had lunch near the shore. The food was great, the boys were orgasmic, far better than those I see in Greenbelt.
I didn't have buffet dessert, it was waaaay too calorific. Had some mangoes from the fresh fruit basket in my room, instead.
On our second day, the weather finally cooperated, so I took my chance to get a tan. And so did everyone. Andrea was so frustrated she can't wear a bikini, because, hello! She's so fat kaya.
Unlike this hot Mylene girl. I though she was a bitch (not that I have a problem with that) but she was very friendly, she even put tanning oil on my back.
This Bianca girl I don't like. I mean, she was such a diva. As if. When we were in the airport, everyone was dressed down and making chika, and she was all glammed up in one corner buffing her nails---at 5 a.m. Gee.
This other girl, I think, was a has-been teenybopper who now stars in homemade sex scandals.
Guess what, it rained again in the afternoon! Not drizzle ha? But rain, thunderstorms, lightning and all the works. Gah. Stupid weather. There was nothing to do but have coffee and cigs in my cabana terrace.
That's Andrea's beloved Beatles bag that she always brings with her in trips. If she gets any more annoying, I'd paw that bag into shreds and watch her weep.
By nighttime, Andrea and her newfound buddies were craving for beer. They took off and looked for a sleazy beer joint in the city.
Not that they were not drunk enough from the booze served after dinner. Most of her pals were gay and their search for a Tagbilaran gaybar was a failure. Nyahahaha. They ended up in this very very very small videoke joint with zero ventilation.
I swear, even your alcoholic tito wouldn't go there. It's the claustro's nightmare kaya. It's no bigger than my closet and it's dingy! She said they didn't even have light beer or salmon belly, just ordinary beer and grilled isaw. That, and lots of sleazy drunk tambays.
But they ended up singing till 5 a.m. When Andrea got back and plopped into her bed, stinky drunk girl was singing "I Will Survive" over and over.
So annoying!
The next morning, I slept till noon, nevermind if they were doing lots of activities outside. I guess Andrea joined beach volley and water polo---as if she's athletic. She couldn't even play patintero or ride a bike, water polo pa sha jan.
I set the aircon to the fullest and bummed the entire afternoon on this rocking chair. I swear, I love this chair to pieces. Afterwards, I ran a bubble bath with vanilla oil. Ah. bliss, finally.
On the third night, Andrea partied again and the sun was already up when she got back to the cabana.
I wonder if she slept in another cabana? That bitch. I should be the only bitch here and she kept on upstaging me, she's fat naman.
Hungover Andrea woke up late as usual and hurriedly packed her bags. We were running late for the flight, and in a desperate attempt to lock her bulging luggage, she sat on it.
It cracked. Tee-hee. Told you she's heavy.
Andrea looked so sabog that time (she looks like an evil stepsister badly in need of a botox fix), and was too hungover to even put her contact lenses on. She looked a like 6th-grade geek on the way home, and I looked like I just got back from a spa party.
With her cracked luggage and four more bags in tow, she kept me under her kili-kili till we got to the airport.
Newsflash: Our flight was delayed for four hours. Imagine! Cebu Pacific sucks.
Anyway, Bohol was ok, it was worth bitching about. Andrea told me we'll be in La Union soon. I hope she won't much be as much a pain in the ass this time.
"But I don't want to go among mad people," Alice remarked.
"Oh, you can't help that," said the Cat: "we're all mad here. I'm mad. You're mad."
"How do you know I'm mad?" said Alice.
"You must be," said the Cat, "or you wouldn't have come here."
--- "Alice in Wonderland," by Lewis Caroll
curiosity killed the kitten
I leaned my forehead on the edge of my laptop
when I looked down, there was a pool of tears on my green vinyl floor.
I touched the mini puddle and it made me weep more.
It was so Wonderland. So like the giant Alice
who drank the "Drink Me!" potion drowning everyone in her tears.
I might drown in mine.
"Curioser and curioser!" cried Alice.
Curiosity killed the cat.
Curiosity might kill the kitten.
Drink "Drink me!" till you're drunk. Drink "Drink me!" till you're dumb.
Drink "Drink me!" till you're numb.
But always drink moderately (I bet my boobs that was booze)
lest you aim to drown in your own warm wicked tears.