Showing posts from July, 2013

the sorrowful and the sexual

two movies at the ongoing two thousand and thirteen cinemalaya film festival -- porno and debosyon -- are using sex to expound their themes, as well as to eventually win the attention of picky cineastes.

one is a long, tedious exposition on the culture of peeping into the most intimate acts between two people in a private room, as well as a critique on the society that condones such behavior; while the other is a glorious meditation on love, life and faith.


porno, as the brave title suggests, is all about sex and is being marketed using sex as the main selling point. no surprise there.

the minds behind the movie released photos of erstwhile bold stars rosanna roces and yul servo, both naked in bed, to newspapers and online media to lure moviegoers.  the two actors, unfortunately, had very small exposure in the movie that did not only dwell on the culture of pornography but a lot more.

the marketing people even issued a press statement that said…

shallow but glamourous lives: the problems of the wealthy

eleven thirty pm

while having a full-body massage at the luxurious guest room of a glamourous friend, marchescka futanezcha called, rudely interrupting my bliss courtesy of the expert hands of my gorgeous masseur who looks like brazilian model fabio ide and temporarily bringing me back to earth. ah the demon that is modern technology. these are the times when i wish i don't have an iphone, ipad and what have you, when all i want is to relish my own sweet, quiet, private time with one of manille's best looking but quite expensive men of leisure and a million pleasure.
a while ago, i was already dreaming that i was flying on the back of superman, the new version but of course, as part of our weekly tour of the universe and beyond, leaving me breathless as i felt the hardness of his muscles safely hidden but still very visible from his very flimsy suit. this, while he was embracing me tightly, making sure that i won't fall off from his sexy back.


the adobo chronicle

the first time i cooked the favourite filipino dish -- pork adobo -- it was a disaster worse than the explosion of the chernobyl.
some of the pork cubes were burned beyond recognition, others were pale, some were wrinkly and disheveled. it did not look pretty and appetizing at all. worse, it did not taste like the adobo of my mother or the one that we ordered in restaurants; but nevertheless, my guests,  famished teen-age boys who just finished playing basketball at a court a few minutes away from my flat, lapped it up as though it was the best tasting viand ever.


it was a rainy sunday afternoon and some streets in manille were flooded.  i was watching a movie on dvd -- the age of innocence -- lazily tucked in the comfort of my two-year-old sofa with a blanket covering half of my body. it was the nth time that i watched the movie, but i didn't mind. the rains always bring out the romantic in me, triggering a craving for passionat…

the frothy and the fabulous at the sona


it's still i, the invincible madam m guest writing for this fabulous and gorgeous blog because my beloved apo is still indisposedjust like a certain president of a republic when he is not in the mood to meet guests at the palace. (hangover, perhaps?)

i rarely appreciate the intelligence of other people, but i give it to the smart readers of some newspapers to make sense of the trashy stories being peddled by broadsheets day in and day out in the name of readership, advertising revenue and what-have-you. this time, these smart readers are smarting over the big fashion event (the country's equivalent to the annual met gala in new york or the oscars at los angeles) this side of the third world -- the once-a-year state of the nation address or sona by the chief executive. while nursing my beloved apo, who has a slight fever but very much depressed lately, i catch on teevee the red carpet extravaganza that would put real fashionistas gwyneth paltrow, angelina jolie and kerry w…

the flimsy and the frothy -- this is what the fabulous life is all about

salut! you probably missed me right? well, i hope you did because these days nobody misses me other than those who are on my payroll. it’s been over a year since i last guested in my favourite grandson’s (apo, in filipino, for his foreign readers out there spread all over the globe) blog. i think he abandoned it for a while too, if I remember it right, when he went on a hiatus to find his soul, something that's really hard to do since genetically speaking, he has none. he came from a family of kleptogarchs, so we don’t care much about the soul but of the glitter of gold. the good, the beautiful and the fragrant. the things that are visible to the naked eye. who needs a soul when you can't even afford an lv key holder? there i said it at last. i have been dispatched to write this because my apo is again nowhere to be found. i mean, he is not in the mood to do anything but mope these days. i have been calling his old sony ericsson (i know, that five-year-old cellphone already belo…