adventures in neverland

the movie poster was enough to turn me off. it looked so cheesy, i wanted to run as far away from it as possible for fear that i might contact the virus that made anne and jim locked lips on the streets, an imitation of a famous times square picture of a sailor kissing a nurse on vj day in 1945 (see that one below). i am a hopeless romantic, but this is just too much. see what i mean? it's like a cover of a barbara cartland novel or those sweet dreams romance pocketbooks that i used to devour when i was in my teens. or as my snooty gay friends would say, parang hallmark card! but my luv for mader, who wanted to see it, prevailed. we had fun during our two previous movie dates. i was hoping that at least the performances of anne hathaway (whom i last saw in the brilliant rachel getting married , where she was nominated for an oscar. i luv her, by the way, big dreamy eyes and wide pretty woman smile notwithstanding.) and jim sturgess (whom i luv in across the universe ) w

tuguegarao used to be a mysterious place that i would hear from my mother and her three sisters every summer, when we would fly to manila to be with relatives. over cups of coffee, they would talk in tagalog and ibanag (a local cagayan dialect), reliving their childhood and teenage years, before they all got married and moved elsewhere. because i never learned to speak ibanag, i would ask my cousins for translations every time the conversation turned interesting—that is, their voices would become a bit louder, or they would all talk at the same time, followed by a hearty laugh. my favorite story was about a mysterious brown virgin mary, which has supposedly granted so many wishes and performed some miracles. we once visited tuguegarao, where my mother was born, when i was about five years old. i vaguely remember riding in a calesa along dusty, rocky roads; kissing the tobacco-stained hands of countless lolos and lolas , aunts and uncles; being scared to look at a life-size

(please read while listening to the eagle's new kid in town . just scroll down below to play the song.) some boys, indeed, have all the luck. blessed with a pedigree that's close to a royalty, boyish american good looks that even robert pattinson would die for, and a lean, long body that could turn teen-age gurls into frenzy, seventeen-year old patrick schwarzenegger has it all. and more. his dad is hollywood superstar arnold schwarzenegger famous for his terminator series (he is also a former mr. universe and governor of california), while his mom is a member of the revered kennedy clan, maria shriver, a journalist and author. already, patrick is creating a buzz in hollywood by appearing shirtless in a giant billboard for hudson jeans, displayed prominently along the famous sunset boulevard. patrick, who will turn eighteen next month, has also founded a clothing company project360 when he was just fifteen, using it as a springboard for his various charitable p

i have nothing against filipinos who speak in english, after all it is the language of the learned, according to a controversial newspaper article. what irritates me are those who try so hard to speak it even if they are having a hard time, even if they can do it in filipino (para mas madaling magkaintindihan) because they are talking with another filipino naman and there are no foreigners in the group. i only take out my limited english when i am with foreigners (of course naman ano?), otherwise i speak in filipino. basta filipino ang kausap ko, i try to speak in filipino too. queze hodang hindi nila ako maintindihan o sagutin nila ako in english! quever! anyway, i don't begrudge filipinos who speak perfect english. that's their right. vakeet ako maiinggit anoh! eh marunong din akong mag inglis! haha. but please, don't look down on us who can't speak it well because we are poor and our parents are too busy earning a living washing the dishes of the rich, thus, t

“ for we can still love the world, who find a famished kitten on the step, and know recesses for it from the fury of the street, or warm torn elbow coverts.”                from chaplinesque i don’t want to see anybody crying at my funeral. nor talking only good things about me, the great deeds that i have done, as if i were a saint. i was not. like my favourite artiste, who passed away recently, i knew i was no good. now, i felt like singing, which should come later. my mother, the frustrated dramatic actress, would probably shed a tear or two. she might even faint. let her be. i have seen it during the wake of her husband and then of her oldest son (so i heard. i wasn’t there). she cried hysterically in both funerals, like a mad woman. but i love her, so i gave her the license to showcase her flair for the dramatics that would put even her idol, nora aunor, to shame. it’s hypocrisy to the highest degree to cry in someone’s funeral when all you did was treat

what a way to start the week. woke up with the news that libya's ruthless ruler muammar gaddafi (or moammar gadhafi depending on which newscast you are watching), who led the country with an iron fist for more than 40 years, would finally be kicked out from power. well, i had a luvly weekend. finally caught the rom-com crazy, stupid luv lured by   this scene: a naked ryan gosling inside a sauna lecturing the clueless steve carell on how to win the hearts of women and sleep with them eventually.                                      (please remove your head, we too want a better view!) the scene ended with steve carell's face banging right where it matters most, in between ryan's smooth powerful legs. the lucky basterd! indeed ryan's well-sculpted abs stole the entire movie from other noteworthy actors in the cast: carell, julianne moore, emma stone and marissa tomei (in a short but marked role). every time he appeared shirtless, i was totally distracted that

while cruising through the streets of the sartorialist avenue, i saw this pic and fell in love with it. i love the total look, especially the white cotton dress and the converse, how they conveyed coolness to a higher level. i like the bag too and the swept up hair. this is what dressing should be all about: simple, effortless but still fab. if i were a girl, i would fill my closet with flowing dresses (in soft, light fabrics) in whites, blues, yellows and purples. the colours of summer. lovely! then sneakers, sandals, stilettos and bags, lots of them. nothing fancy though, just simple utilitarian bags that could carry my books, phone, laptop, perfume,  lipstick and what have you. no lvs or bvs. this is perfect for lazy weekend walks at the mall or your favourite street, hanging out with bffs at the coffee shop or just standing alone, like her, while waiting for her destiny. ********** but for a romantic evening with chace crawford, mario maurer, takeshi kaneshiro, tom stu

i had my first job interview in nearly four years this week. i was a train wreck, i tell you. i have always been uncomfortable about job interviews. in fact, i don't like doing it. i wish i could skip this part and just show up for work and prove to the company what i can do. if they don't like it, they can fire me anytime. no hard feelings. maybe because i am a journalist, i am used to asking the questions, not answering them. also, i don't know how to answer basic questions like why do you want this job, or why did you quit your job or what are your plans for the next five years. i know any idiot can answer them, even my three-year old niece, but i simply don't have it in me to come up with intelligent and honest responses to these difficult questions. (i know all the textbook replies, but they sound so insincere). lastly, i am not comfortable discussing salaries, a key part of any job interview. (i don't know why, despite writing about financial stuff ever