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 belongs to the metropolitan museum of antiquity in new york. but he refused to upgrade to iphone five, saying that phone has a sentimental value. i think it was a gift from one of his lovers in hong kong, a former mr. universe or something.) 

you know how he is dahlins, so you know these episodes when all he wants to do is lock himself up in his very spartan bedroom and do whatever it is that he does best for days. quietly, i may add. if you noticed, most of his recent blog posts were rehashed from his earlier posts. he isn't very productive these days. even refused to go hunting with me for hard-to-find chagalls in europe. gosh. and to think that we both love shopping, flying first class, and spending dollars and euros!

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but since i care about this blog, whose readership has reached europe, the middle east, the united states and the whole of asia, so i need to exert some effort for its upkeep. it’s a pity if i will just let it go to waste just because my apo has been in one of his mean red moods (he’s a big breakfast at tifanny’s fan and thinks he should have starred in that film. but he adores audrey hepburn. no, he worships her. i remember when he was a little boy, we would go to rome every time he was depressed, ride a vespa and look for an older, good looking american journalist in the city ala audrey in roman holiday.)

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so what do you want to talk about, rather what do you want me to talk about?

hmmm…let’s start with showbiz. my apo’s favourite topic. angelina jolie, his next favourite actress to audrey, was in the headlines lately after she decided to remove her boobs to avert cancer. i didn’t think it was a wise move. you don’t get rid of a healthy part of your body for fear that it might get diseased later on because it is vulnerable to something. come to think of it, all our body parts are vulnerable to any disease, so what gives? but that’s her decision and i respect that. in fact when my apo opened up this topic weeks ago while we were having late afternoon coffee (our version of tea time) at the champagne room of the manila hotel (for old time’s sake, we keep on going there. we used to live in that hotel, you know.),  i hastily changed the topic lest he might get some ideas. god, he has been complaining about his swollen lips before our coffee date that splendid saturday afternoon.

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anyway, back to angelina. let me ask you this: is there something that the sex siren with bee stung lips and to die for body can’t do? last year, she wrote a script about two lovers caught in a war (was it bosnia) and also directed the move that impressed a few critiques worldwide. isn’t she one of the luckiest women in the world, boobs or no boobs? she has the brad pitt for a husband, a lovable family worthy of a united nations ad, tons of cash in the banks, hollywood at her disposal. no wonder jennifer aniston remains..well..jennifer, a starlet with no claim to fame except being brad’s ex and her stint at that  awful teevee show. she has not moved on yet, has she?!

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here at home, everyone’s buzzing about nora aunor and vilma santos’ indie films that would surely reignite their rabid fans' propensity for a war rivaling the animosity between the south and north korea. i  fervently hope that both actresses, the best we have had for a long time in this side of hollywood, will continue to make movies. we need nora and vilma to remind the new generation of starlets what it takes to be a true artist. you have to suffer for your art. don’t be afraid of losing, of suffering, of hitting rock bottom. because all of these can help you hone your craft. then you can bounce back and hit the big time again.

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what about fashion? my shallow apo’s other passion. oh well, what happened to patis, pitoy, christian and inno? why aren’t they visible these days? the other day, i told my secretary to ring one of them because i needed a new terno for the president's state of the nation address at the batasan, one of the buildings that we helped put up. (don't expect anything new about the sona -- the president will highlight his accomplishments, but won't discuss the widespread poverty, rising criminality, growing number of homeless people living on the streets and along roxas boulevard, the beggars on every corner. no, these poor, suffering people are not eyesores. they are human beings who deserve our compassion, my fellow countrymen.)
but my secretary said she could not find him. worse, the cellphone numbers have all been disconnected! que horror! what’s going on?

my amigas referred me to these new designers that are sprouting like mushrooms in the metropolis, as if we are a first world country whose economy can afford their creations. but i told them that i am not impressed. i prefer the old masters. maybe when i am in a whimsy mood, i will ask that famous dubai-based designer michael cinco to make me a terno with a modern twist. that will be something that tattler, vogue and vanity fair should watch out for. my apo is head-over-heels in love with michael’s creations that he wished she were angelina jolie so she could get married in one of mfive’s wedding dresses. i told him, why not?! you don’t need to be a bride to wear those gowns! but he refused, telling me that the magic and romance of the dresses would be lost if they are not worn in a real wedding with a dashing groom (preferably brad) anxiously waiting at the altar, gorgeous in a tom ford suit. hay my apo, he really reminds me so much of my romantic, dreamy-eyed, albeit wrinkled self.

have you seen, by the way, michael’s designs? madre de dios! they are so fabulous that i wish i were eighteen again so i could wear them to my grand entrance to society. then i will commission him to design my outfits to all those grandiose soirees (i sound so gossip girl. haha) that only the most beautiful and wealthy people (the creme-de-la-creme) in manille are invited.

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politics you say? nothing interesting there, my dearies. while our family has been in this industry that sucked the nation dry of its wealth, I really find it boring. all these talk about money, money, money. corruption. pork barrel funds. they are as old as the old testament, pardon my french. wherever you go, people think you are a walking automated teller machine!
they will say, madam we need five million pesos for a farm-to-market road. so i give them money from my pork barrel. but at the end of the day, they will only build a narrow one kilometer road that even a carabao can’t pass. por dios por santo!

where did all that money go? then they will tell me, madam my son is sick, my daughter is going to college, my mother died, my father is gay…etc, etc. it’s sickening. sometimes i don't feel like going out anymore, especially to meet my constituents. while i have nothing against homosexuals, my beloved apo is a proud member of the pink sisterhood, please don't make kurakot just to pay for boys. work and work hard, save, so you can afford them in the future!

don’t you find it crass talking about money all the time? i do. i always have. that's why i prefer to use cheques and credit cards. i hate bringing money.

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that’s why i have a high respect for my apo here. look at this place he is currently renting. while it's already uppity, it's not as uppity that will fit our jet-set lifestyle. but he says he likes it here. that while it’s only temporary because he will be on his next journey, he is starting to enjoy it here! 

this is what is life all about, my apo says. and i love old buildings, he adds. they have souls unlike some people i know, eyeing me with a snooty look. they have history, grannie. there he goes again, i thought, mumbling about soul and history. whatever happened to my fabulous apo, the one who would go with me when i shop for a goya, picasso, chagall or lalique? who will not take a shower unless the water is perrier flown directly from france? who dines with me in aragawa and el amparo and enjoys staying in fabulous hotels? who loves summering in the crete or in lake como and hunting for george clooney?

who is this creature who looks like…………

opps…time for me to go. my secretary just informed me that he is hearing some noise in my apo’s room. maybe the master has awakened. time to feed him hot chicken soup so his fever would ease a bit. what? i never mentioned that he has been running a high fever for a week now? je suis desolee!

baboosh!

xoxo

madam m