HOW TO STRIKE A POSE

Well… well… well… there you are my beautiful, pretty, gregarious, loving and cute pupils of mine I hope you still remember me… well welcome back to me. My apologies little devels, I been away for a while to find myself in the desert but I didn’t found it, instead I found L-O-V-E... Gush I’m blushing. But that’s not our topic for today we’ll just talk about that sometimes in the future. Anyway how’s my darling pupils. I miss everyone and I’m hoping you missed me too… I gain weight like 35 grams hmmmm correction not kilo.

The past month had been so awful for me, I am ambidextrous (yeah I made the spelling right… whatever!) for weeks working like hell; even my Saturdays and Sundays were consummated by the office that feeds me, aside the fact that I needed to constantly check on my facebook for reasons I don’t know…(Must be the gossips.) For a month I made like 25 storyboards and photoboards for different clients and to please our new award winning creative director who I think is very good and nice but kinda crazy with his perfectionism… come hell or high water my world is changing... changing… and changing… I barely have time to write in this famous blog of mine. I like my new boss and hate his extremeness. I can see myself in him when I’m going old.

Some months really last longer than others, this month might be the same. I miss writing my craziness in this crazy world. I like to work hard and I like hard work but I felt trapped lately in a pattern of busyness. Even my horoscope ask me if I’m happy with what I’m doing, it even ask me if I still feel a thing? Huh… how daring that thing told me as if it’s my conscience. Lately I’ve been talking to God and he told me to LISTEN… its’ his turn to say something to me… He said that I always complain and ask him a lot of things but don’t bother to listen to him… and wondered what’s he’s going to say to me anyway… well anyway I remain silent in hope that I might hear him when I take my ride to the office. In short, I’ve been behave recently except for some occasional outburst when the people in the office gather and harvest their farms in facebook, it’s making the internet traffic slow and I cannot download pictures I needed for a design I’m making. I go around and make yawyaw all over the office about that online farming where they wasted their time instead of doing it in real life, which by the way makes me excited the fact that I’m almost finished paying the land that I’m installing… I can’t wait to have my real Farmville. Well… the boss heard my plea and passed an announcement around the office to stop doing that online game…. And they stopped; for a day I guess.

Anyways, Miss Frida is like an alarm clock ticking for the past week, He’s going for a month long vacation to our beloved Philippines. I’m happy for him I hope he’s happy for me too. The Filipino mafia decided to throw him a send off thing. So we perfectly planned an al fresco breakfast at “Open Wine” behind the Royal Palace last Saturday in which I came late. The Saturday that was, is ultra beautiful as in fucking beautiful. We started the day with so much bread. The bagel is good it’s not hard as it used to be and the toasted white bread is perfect with the strawberry jam that looks like “bagoong” but tasted like heaven (I always love strawberry jam next to peanut butter). Then comes the egg omelet and the bacon which is kinda good but I always love the processed bacon it’s tastier because of the thing we called monosodium glutamate or “vetsiness”. The coffee is very strong and bitter… I think it’s the blackest coffee there is in the whole wide world ever, it took me 6 sugar cubes to make it sweet. Then comes the big hornet that hovers on our breakfast and I advised everyone not to panicked and just be still. True enough the hornet hovers over Miss Grace’s plate and picks up a crumb of egg omelet and fly away and come back for more when we paid our bills. Honestly the breakfast is not that perfect but of course it was fun. Maybe it’s 5 out of 10 in my score board.

Then we went to Mother Helen to buy our usual weekend market, I don’t remember but I think a bought a lot of stuff. Its good thing Mr. Kino was there he brought the stuff home for me… what a sweet man he is… sigh. Miss Earth, Miss Deborah and me accompanied Miss Frida to the Russian Market to buy stuff he needed to bring for his friends and family back home. Thanks god for Russian market, we went to a scarve’s shop and shopped to death virtually everything. The scarves are beautiful, different colors, textures and colors… colors… colors… everything is so beautiful… so gay... I love it… and the bags yeah… the bags. All the beautiful stuffs made Miss Frida’s wallet green. Then we moved to another stall where they sell statues and bust of Buddha and stuffs. Surprisingly Miss Earth suddenly decided to buy a medium sized Buddha which is quite heavy and two busts as an early Christmas gift she planned to give to someone.

It took us almost an hour just by that area before we decided to take a juice break at Cambodia’s best orange juice ever. Amazingly it’s real, the juice is very good. Then we continued the shopping as Miss Frida proceeded to buy stuff for men but I declined to choose for him as I might buy stuff that I would regret later on… in short I don’t have cash. Instead I went to the sunglasses area with Miss Deborah and I bought two fabulous sunglasses to appease my insatiable cravings for beautiful things. I have a very butch Nike copper slit dragonfly sunglasses and a cheap pink tinted glass with black frame sunglasses which I planned wearing to annoy everyone in the office. Miss Deborah also bought some and a pair of pants I think and that’s it we went home to rest for the big night coming that evening.

I went home and slept for an hour after I chatted with Mr. Kino. I woke up like 3:30 pm and decided to make a spring roll… I’m not that very energetic you know, don’t you think? So I chopped and cooked and wrapped everything in pastry wrapper to make a spring roll but I get tired suddenly knowing that I should be in my best form for the big night that’s ticking in 2 hours. Luckily the sweet Mr. Kino helped me; in the beginning he does not know how to wrap a spring roll. The first one he made is fucking ugly it looks very different from my nicely wrapped rolls. Like a scene from a movie I taught him how to wrap the spring rolls which astonishingly he learned fast. So I leave him there as I planned what to wear for the night… and I found my all-time favorite grey skimpy shorts and a black v-cut t-shirt with three decorative searchlight buttons. And that’s it --- one more cigarette and I’m off to the bathroom. I smell like spring rolls.

I was on my way to take a shower when my mobile phone vibrated before it alarms notifying me of an incoming message. “See you at Parkway third floor 8:00 pm and don’t forget to bring socks.” It was from Miss Frida. It took me an hour preparing as I donned myself in that 80’s garb reminiscent of Jaworski’s short shorts era. I brought with me my classic jeans tote bag to put on my socks and a boxful of freshly cooked spring rolls that Mr. Kino sweetly packed for me and off I go. I arrived at Parkway exactly 8:00 pm and hopped into the lift and pushed on the third floor button only to find that the third floor of the building is offices and there was an old guard who look at me strangely, afraid I went back to the elevator and pushed the button to ground floor and went to the back area of the building and found the stairs and climb till the third floor--- there I found the big entrance of “Bowling Alley”. Yeheey were going bowling.

Everyone is there and we played the night away till 11:00 in the evening. It was fucking hilarious and fun as in F-U-N fun. I love it. I made three strikes and scored high on the first game, of course it’s all about me. I remember my days on The Library Foundation when all the homosexuals strutted their stuff on the bowling alley and strike a pose every time one makes a strike or something. Bowling is Fun. Miss Frida plays good and posed perfectly as well. Miss Earth is also good but didn’t make much because her nails are freshly manicured. Mr. Magno is very good and trying hard. Miss Grace always followed the arrows and manages to hit a couple of strikes. Miss Arwen is so fragile like a rabbit and of course Miss Deborah is perfect with his split every time he makes a hit. The night went too fast when everyone is having fun and that’s how we ended our Saturday happily.

And with that my beautiful pupils I’m going to teach you how to bowl and strike a pose.
Okay butchers (pa-men na badette) and macho gays at the back get your pen and paper and copy everything from the board.

How to strike a pose

Of course, before you can do that one has to have a ball - a bowling ball and a bowling alley. Also you need powder to help you keep a ball and of course a pair of beautiful bowling shoes with socks.

Observe… of course you don’t want to look like a first timer, nobody likes a virgin nowadays. When you sit by the bowling alley observe the other bowlers as they do their thing and don’t get nervous or intimidated if they play well, they all started with shit as well.

Notice… Now notice where the balls come out, that’s where you get the balls. Then look at the center that’s where you pose and throw the ball but don’t cross on the line that leads to the alley it’s the “foul line”, if you cross that line you won’t get points. Now notice that arrow like thing or sometimes it’s a round dark markings on the floor in the alleyway, that’s where you supposedly aim the ball when you need to hit some sparse pins. Now look further and you will see your aim --- the white standing pins that look like white penguins.

Choose… Choose or pick up the ball according to the weight you can carry. 14 lbs is the weight for beginners which everyone can carry well. Then as you progress you can pick the heavier ones like the 15 lbs to 16 lbs… No not that balls faggots at the back. There are three holes in the ball now figure out how to put your fingers. Its basic you know dummies.

Compose… Okay here’s the part I love, Compose yourself and try to be calm, don’t mind the people looking at you. Just be calm and take a deep breath as you hold that ball… like you know “when you hold the real thing”… Try making it three deep breaths, relax and concentrate. And never ever let the ball fall on your feet… there’s a thing we called injury… ouch.

Step… now take your first step. Use your left foot when you first step towards the alley, even if you are left handed or right handed always start using your left foot. Starting with the right foot has high probability to throw you off balance. I’m sure that faggots at the back know how to do it even in stiletto.

Let Go… Now as you continue to go forward, try to keep your shoulders parallel to the foul line. Swing the ball back and then forward perpendicular to the foul line and let go – release the ball. Look!!! You missed it… the ball is traversing the canal… that’s okay you’re just a beginner anyway.

Pose… No matter what, just try to make the most beautiful pose you can possibly do and make anyway in the end it’s all about F-U-N fun.

Now that you just let go of the first ball, don’t be angry if the ball drops in the canal chances are you’re never going to get a good amount of pins the next time you throw the ball if you are agitated. Practice is the answer to that; it takes four months of practice to make your strikes perfect and your poses are ultra perfect by then.

Okay that’s it my little devels… Now go and get your most fabulous shoes ever and strike a pose.

God teaching is such a noble work and I’m ultra fucking beautiful sigh.

HOW TO FACE THE BOOK

Well… well… well… there you are my beautiful and sweet pupils of mine. Well… I know you miss me… and I miss everyone also. I was away for a while because I was sad that I killed Miguelita. huhuhuhu...


Well as what they say any idiot can play Greek for a day and make a blog and write about his tragedy and articulate all his pain and thought he’ll get paid one day… well I tell you darlings it’s a sin if success complains and your writer’s block don’t mean a shit, just throw everything at the wall and let’s see what sticks. I’m not a writer or a trying hard, eager beaver sophomore but an eloquent and passionate person who writes my thoughts no matter if people don’t understand me… and I don’t care. As a talkative person writing my stories in word form makes me understand why writers are like that… yeah you know… moody or temperamental, I understand them now. It’s painful to kill a character you built up and learn to love. And one more thing, I learned the more you make a story complicated the more it’s difficult to end… but nevertheless I learned something and promised to make my stories much shorter but precise and that I wonder how to do it. Well anyway…

Today I wake up wondering if I just get marry a Japanese. I missed my boyfriend so much… It’s our eight year anniversary today… you see long distance love affair only works for a short time but if you’re counting in years its different… that is why we agreed to be in an open relationship… but I don’t care what you think for us sex is just sex… we been together for long a time that we’ve reach to that level when you longed to be individual again. What is that song by “Noel Cabangon” were he is singing about a crossroad… well I forget again but that exactly what it feels like… no not the “Pana-panahon” thing.

I remember how an ex-friend once tried to ruin that relationship by sending emails to him telling him what I’ve done here in the lonely Kingdom of Cambodia; How I picked up men and pay them with shoes or slippers… and how he buy me a man for a night… He even came to great lengths of printing everything and let everyone read about me and my boyfriend’s bedroom secret. How I smoked jutes like hell and a lot of stuff. Let alone reading it to everyone he knows. Of course I learned all about this from my boyfriend who forwarded all his emails to me and from common friends that have cut ties with that ex-friend. Gush talking about “The Atonement”… I felt like Kiera Knightly or more you say Cate Blanchet in “Notes to a Scandal”.

There was a moment that I sent an apology letter to that ex-friend of mine which of course he never replied. A reply came back years later only to warn me about “another friend that broken ties with him” which of course is not a surprise. I guess I’m growing older now so I kept that letter and let it read to that “friend who cut ties with that ex-friend”. Much as I want to forget everything and move on, that letter reminds me of how I’ve been wronged… so I decided to burn it, forgive myself and leave everything in the past now… Everything is so Highschool… forget… forget… forget…

Yeah… don’t ask me how he got to know my password blame it on my forgetfulness or more you say “Doriness” --- Ellen’s character in “Finding Nemo” because as much as he claims that I forgot to log-out from his computer, I remember now because I give my password to him. But still that doesn’t give him authority to open my emails because I never did that to him…

Since I moved out from my exfriend’s house three years ago I went to focus on work, no one ever heard what’s going on with me for a whole year… not a word was spoken. And people thought I already left for home. Not even in the internet as I’ve closed all my net accounts… this explains why I closed my “friendster” account, closed my account in hi5 and never bother to open “facebook” or “tagged” for fear that something bad might happened to them. As I was so traumatized when I found out that the “other friend who cut ties with the ex-friend” friendster account was hacked and all of his pictures were gone and replaced by a naked picture of a Korean man. Of course we don’t know who made it to him. Luckily that friend of mine doesn’t care about it and moves on... that happened a year ago. I’m afraid to tell all of you that I’m not afraid anymore… I’m numb already and now I decided to open a “facebook” for the first time since time immoral or whatever… you know what I mean I just don’t know the spelling.

In reality all my friends called me a hypocrite when I vowed to myself not to have “facebook” since my face is everywhere anyway in that social networking world, I admit it is true as I’m always been honest with myself which sometimes made me make selfish decisions. Since that experience from the ex-friend of “invading one’s privacy”--- I decided to shut my social networking and just go for blogging the only means I can think of to connect with my old friends. But receiving an email from facebook everyday and looking at my old friends knocking on me as if begging me to open an account I finally give in.

And yeah facebook is addicting… knowing me, knowing you… addict. Since I replied to one of my bestest friend ever “Elnoring” in facebook everyone from my past and present flooded my yahoo mail. From old enemies to old friends to new enemies to new friends, it is like I’m going to die the next day because everyone is there. And that’s it… It changed my working pattern and my blogging pattern. But I know this is just a passing thing since I’m new to facebook but once I pass that boredom stage… My life would be normal again.

Okay gaylits from the back… listen… I know you all have facebook already so don’t bother to listen to me… it’s okay I’m kind’a generous today… okay here we go get your pen and copy everything from the board.

How to face the book

Step1… Click on the link to that whoever invited you in your e-mail to be on facebook.

Step 2… When inside the network facebook will guide you accordingly on how to do it and what to do.

Step 3… There you go easily… Now you get to put on your profile and every chu-chu you want to say about yourself.

Step 4… Because its facebook… put on your bestest picture you ever had. It’s like Vanity Fair… and forgive me I’m beautiful and so are my pictures.

Step 5… Now the network will ask you if want to add or search for friends --- then do that. As for me since I’m quite popular everyone wants to be invited even my unfriends. Actually this is the best part because you have the power to ignore… literally the people you don’t like.

Step 6… Now the network will ask you about your thoughts… feelings or emotions then put it… As for me as I’m always sweetly honest, I put on everything I felt even the condition of my coffee maker and my hormonal patterns… everything… and I’m surprised people actually reacted to my thoughts like consciences… strange but fun… I love it.

Step 7… You can also put on some links if you want, as I’m new I’m still at the level of welcoming all the friends that want to be added… taray di ba.

Step 8… There are gangsters, hilly billies from the Farmville and sometimes lost cows.
It’s up to you if you want to join them. But because I’m new I did’nt get involve yet.

Step 9… Put this email address in the search engine on facebook ---

sibinandez@yahoo.com and I will add you but that depends of who you are…

Step 10… Enjoy…

There you are my little angels… mwahhh… mwahhh… mwahhhh…

THE LEGEND OF THE COFFEE MAKER part 6

How to tell a story series

The vodka though strong is sweet and heady like Miguelita’s loneliness. Matt poured more of the vodka and add tonic to Miguelita’s glass. The conversation becomes more bold and dangerous… Miguelita not his usual self become more loquacious and Matt more loudly. Something with alcohol really makes people feel good about themselves or at least makes you forget for a brief moment the loneliness of living.

Hahahahaha… How could you be so mean going around and breaking everyone’s heart you dirty young man… Miguelita replied loudly to Matt who looks proud and red with the alcohol.

Well… what can I do… I’m blessed with 3G … He replied as he puts on his hand under his chin and stared longingly at Miguelita.

What’s 3G? Miguelita asked the young nurse as he sips on the bluish mixture of alcohol.

Oh it’s God’s Given Gift… Matt replied and sucks in his breath to make his chest bigger.

Hahahahahahahaha… The drunk and flirty --- Miguelita laugh.

IF LOVE IS BLIND… I’D FIND MY WAY WITH YOU… CAUSE I CAN’T SEE MYSELF… NOW I’M IN LOVE WITH YOU… Nene tries to mimic Tifanny on the karaoke and declared to his audience that he don’t like finishing it. And he wondered why the people left… He glances around to see the guest saying goodbyes to Boyet. Then he looks on to his list of songs he reserved on the “Magic Sing”.

Goodbye and thank you Nene… It’s a wonderful night though we love to sing too… but it’s your 30th song and we are bored… goodbye… Nene’s unknown bitch friend sarcastically say goodbye to him.

The loud coffee shop a while ago is now quite, except for some smirk, and occasional laugh from the dark corners for dark deeds. The gamblers are on their last league of their bets… the alcohols are consumed, the food feasted and vomited already by the guest. After that brief moment of revelry the coffee shop once again become silent watching the remaining guest, Matt and Miguelita in the corner with another bottle of vodka. Nene is laughing beside Boyet like a guest relation officer. Silent as it seems the coffee shop is the only witness to everything that happened to the resident gays and their lonely existence. The birthday party is successful.

The morning sun glares at the side mirror of Cirilo’s car. He put on his sun glasses and continues to drive, He’s been driving for hours now since he left the city early in the morning. It would be another more hour to reach the town. He pushed the button on the car’s player and “Secret Garden” by Bruce Springsteen played. He glances at the bouquet of roses and a box in a pink wrapper with gold ribbons, beside the teddy bear his son left on his car. A smile escapes from his lips as he remembers the hot red thong he bought for himself to surprise Miguelita. Guiltily he tried to erase from his mind how he misses their past anniversaries.

“You’ve gone a million miles… how far’d you get… to that place you can’t remember…
And you can’t forget”… Bruce Springteen’s sadly continues his song on the car’s player.

The familiar spike of the town’s chapel can be seen now as Cirilo swiftly swerve a curve that would leads to the sleepy town. He parks his car in front of the coffee shop. He dislodges his baggage from the car and quickly snatches the flowers and the gift and wonders why the coffee shop is still closed. It’s already 10 in the morning and the chaos of last night’s affair was still unattended. He didn’t mind it as he opens the gate that leads to Migulita’s house at the back of the coffee shop.

The house is quite as he creeps at the back of the house. Strangely Miguelita is still sleeping which he is not usually because he always wakes up early. He quietly opens the back door and put his bag and stuffs by the kitchen’s table. He washes his hand and looks himself at the mirror then he opens the bag and gets a small black box, he then opens the box and smiles at the glittery red sequenced thong and a red bow tie. Then he shed his clothing off and he slaps his ligamental manhood to make it a little bit erect before he puts on the skimpy outfit and muffled a laugh a he watch himself at the mirror by the kitchen. He adjusted the red bow tie and casually brushes his hair by his hand. He reached for the bouquet and the pink box then he practices his pose in presenting himself to his gay lover.

He creeps quietly on the bedroom and open the door slightly enough for him to see Miguelita’s face sleeping like beauty in the fairy tales. Cirilo smiles as he proceeds to open the door completely… THADA!!!

He drops the flower and the box with a loud thud…

Sleeping and embracing on Miguelita’s thigh is a man he doesn’t know…

The colors of the morning suddenly change as if dark clouds are covering the sun… Cirilo’s face becomes red; red like the thong he’s wearing. Miguelita hearing the thud of the box wakes up. As if torched by fire all the alcohol in his body evaporated and he sprang from his deep slumber and looks at Cirilo. No words come out from his mouth he pushes Matt with his feet that topples the young nurse out of bed. Cirilo ran to the young nurse who still groggy from alcohol and punched him hard again and again. Miguelita covers his eyes as he cried.

Like a long tracking shot in muted silence… the scene that follows includes a boxing match of Cirilo and Matt… of course Matt fled in defeat. Miguelita in the corner begging forgiveness from the man he adores. Cirilo who cannot afford to hurt Miguelita pack his bag and put in his clothing. He went out as Miguelita sobbing for forgiveness like a child who just lost his mother. He clutches to Cirilo’s legs and hold on to it like the earth is opening to gobble him up. Cirilo firm but defeated continued to walk and slams the door to prevent Miguelita from following him, he walks faster in the driveway. Miguelita covered in bed sheet ran after him. Cirilo slams the car and drive … Miguelita continues to run crying. Cirilo drives… tears is building on his eyes as he see Miguelita running after him on the rear view mirror but still he continues to drive… Miguelita finally cannot catch up with the car and he falls on his knees and cried forgetting that he’s naked. Like the world has stop and the wind makes everything in slow motion.... Miguelita cried and cried… oblivious to the people that look at him like watching a soap opera… they laughed and grinned.

From a not so distant in the highway’s corner Cirilo stops the car and finally he cried.

Months passed…

Hey friend… here you drink this soup it’s good for you… Nene asked Miguelita lovingly to eat.

Miguelita with bulging dark eyes stared at Nene and blankly tears falls down. His eyes are like a dying ember, not a glow of his previous happiness is gone. Like a lonesome vanquished queen our heroine stares blankly to Nene. There were no words to say. No explanation needed. No comforting gesture can ease the emptiness. He is very exhausted. His journey finally ends. The passion is finally consummated. He doesn’t feel like living anymore. Selfish as it seems friends cannot help us when we lose something so dearly to us. Miguelita with knowing abandon knows that it’s the end. He continued to stare at Nene as tears flow out of his eyes. The house itself and the coffee shop suddenly became drab as if life is drained out of it. The pigments crack and lose its brilliance knowing that their owner has losing its will to live.

It was the morning of Friday when Nene and Boyet visits Miguelita’s house. He’s so worried now it’s been six months that Miguelita didn’t work and never went out. He already called to Cirilo a lot of times, he even wrote letters but all in vain. He knows that there’s nothing he could do about it. So he and Boyet went to Miguelita’s house to check on him. The house is dirty; the once lively house is dead. The spirit of the house is tired. They went to Miguelita’s bedroom; it is dark. All the curtains and windows are closed except the bathroom’s door where a split of light comes out. Dust seeps trough the light making strange swirls in the air. Nene called on to Miguelita thinking his in the bathroom. Boyet proceeded to open the curtains and the windows; a draft of strong wind suddenly blows hard as if a giant is exhaling when Boyet opens the windows. The sunlight brightens Miguelita’s room. Nene hurried to the bathroom and found no one but a spider busy making her web by the bathroom’s small window. He went out again and looks at Boyet who was staring at Miguelita’s bed. Nene looks at the bed. The bed looks wet as if a gallon of slimy glue is splashed on it and the middle of it is a strange device that they never saw before. (Of course it’s a coffee maker) On the device is a note in Miguelita’s hand writing. Nene picks it up and tears fall on his left check.

No one knows where Miguelita went. He just disappears as if the house eats him. They asked a lot of people but the people didn’t bother. Only Nene and Boyet remember Miguelita whom they made a small mound as symbol of his disappearance.

Sunday late morning at Franco’s residence a knock echoed through the hallway. The wife shouted to the husband. Hon… Hon… Hon… please the door… I’m cooking. In the living room Cirilo bends and stand up as he touches his young sons head to excuse himself putting the tower on the black tile on the chess board. They were playing chess two against one.

Coming… Cirilo shouts to who it might be by the doorway.

He opens the door. Nene and Boyet are standing there with poker face. Nene is holding a box and gives the box to Cirilo. Cirilo smiles to the couple… though he wants to invite the two inside; Nene just smirked at him, takes the hand of Boyet and they go away. Cirilo looks at them quizzically… then he looks at the box. There was a small note… “from Miguelita.” He looks at his back if his wife is somewhere, knowing that she’s busy He hurriedly went upstairs to his study room and opens the box quickly. There he found the coffee maker and the note. He reads the note and sobs…

Hey dad… why are you crying? His son asked him.

Surprised he instantly suppressed his sobs and pretended that a dust caught in his eyes and he stands up put the note on the box carefully and urges the kids to come with him and they will continue playing.

The note reads'...

I love you...

I will always be your coffee maker...

forever....

THE LEGEND OF THE COFFEE MAKER part 5

How to tell a story series







Wahhhhhhh…. Wahhhhhhh…. Wahhhhhhh… Wails Nene as he continues to sip his coffee and occasionally wipe his bulging eyes that are shedding tears for hours now.

For the millionth times Ramonito… tell me what’s wrong with you… Miguelita calls Nene by his real name as he produces more paper tissue which he gives to the wailing homosexual.

Wahhhhhhh… Wahhhhhhhh… Wahhhhhhh… huhuhuhuhu… Continues the anguished, Nene.

Okay, I give up… up to you… I will close the coffee shop now… it’s getting late…. Miguelita bends to stand up gesturing to leave his best friend who smells like gin.

Matt… wahhhhhh… Matttttt… huhuhuhuhu… he basted me… I thought he likes me… he even showers me with chocolates and flowers, he even picks me up at my shop… He even calls me during the night asking me how to cook “Binagoong pork”and many stuff about you and Cirilo… huhuhuhu… I hate Matt… you just don’t know how I made lots of nurse uniform for him for free, it cost me a lot… huhuhuhu… Even his new white shoes I bought it for him… The sad Nene complained about Matt the young nurse.

Miguelita went back to his chair and put his arms at which Nene shakes it off from his shoulder…. And continues to wail….

Wahhhhhhhh… and you… I hate you too…. Wahhhhhhh…. Nene accuses Miguelita.

And what about me… what did I do? Miguelita asked the wailing best friend.

Wahhhhhhhhhhhhhh… He likes you more than me, why? I’m also beautiful right…. Why he likes you…. huhuhuhu… Now I know why he befriended me… he wants to be closer to you… huhuhu… why are you beautiful? huhuhu… Nene sobs like a baby.

Miguelita kindly embraces his best friend and explained… Okay… hush darling, it’s not my fault that he likes me… yeah you’re right I’m beautiful but I don’t like him. He’s way too young for my taste and besides I love Cirilo more than anyone else in the world… Hush now… you’ll be okay… okay… Give me a smile… friend… Miguelita hushed the sobbing homosexual.

Nene didn’t replied but just cried on Miguelita’s shoulder rocking him gently, and the two of them stopped when they hear a knock on the coffee shops’ half closed doors it was “Boyet” the hospital janitor.

Hey… lucky me… you’re still open… Boyet told Miguelita and was surprise to see Nene crying. He then quickly comes next to the two gays.

Hey… what happened? Boyet asked Miguelita and Nene wails again… and repeated the whole narration to Boyet as he cried over a new mug of coffee… Miguelita left the couple and continues to clean the coffee shop occasionally glancing at Nene and Boyet .

Weeks later Nene and Boyet became a regular at the coffee shop cavorting like Boyet and Nora during their heydays. Miguelita is happy to see his best friend rebounds. At least he could go on missing his Cirilo who is on his fifth month now with his family. He worries and wondered if his okay… but he knows deep inside that Cirilo is happy with the kids and wished he had a uterus.

The life of the homosexuals in the coffee shop goes on happily despite Miguelita’s waiting for Cirilo.

One day Nene declared excitedly to Miguelita that Boyet’s birthday is coming on the 3rd day and that they should celebrate in his coffee shop and that Miguelita should cook for them and that it would be an exclusive party, and that he would invite Matt to make him jealous of Boyet, and that and so on… Miguelita agreed out of loneliness hoping Cirilo could join them, he text him and no reply, he called to him to no avail… and secretly wished that his okay and hope that he remembers that it’s their anniversary as well.

The coffee shop looks like a carnival. Balloons and fancy flowers made of crepe papers adorned the gay shop. Miguelita is busy putting food on the buffet table as Nene grilled the barbeque and hotdogs. He excitedly affixed everything he grilled on a pineapple. He goes around the coffee shop electrifyingly as if he is the birthday celebrant.

Gush, Hurry up Miguelita… Boyet will be here in a minute. Nene ordered Miguelita hurriedly who looks at him in disgust.

Gush Miguelita… I know it’s your coffee shop I don’t have time with that kind of look of yours… I have to call on Shirley the hairdresser, he promised me to lend his video camera, and all my friends from the beauty shop and the barbers in the corner would be here in a minute too… I have to call to Maricel to be sure that Matt will come…and the “Magic Sing” gush before I forget Boyet love to sing… The homosexual ran to the phone and mumbles incoherently, Miguelita didn’t mind him but continues to do his thing, putting finishing touches on the array of foods on the buffet table.

Ayyyyyyy… God… You’re so beautiful… Nene shouted fakely at the guest as he kisses each one.

God thanks for the gifts, Boyet is on his way now… please take your sit. As he glides his way among the guest wondering where Boyet is.

Miguelita on the other hand just smiled in amusement watching his best friend. But deep inside him he misses Cirilo, he smile poignantly to everyone but that doesn’t feel like it as he felt so lonely. It’s the 6th month now that he celebrated their anniversary alone. He started to pour in some Vodka and tonic which one of the guests bought. He positioned himself by the corner silently sipping his drink as he watch the revelry.

The strange crowd sang in unison as Boyet comes in to the party together with his entourage of macho men from the hospital… of course that includes the embalmers, guards, cooks and other staffs even the baranggay tanod is there.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY… HAPPY BIRTHDAY… TO YOU… the crowd clapped as they finishes the song and Boyet blows the candles that Nene is holding so proudly as if she is the luckiest gay in the whole wide world ever…

And the party started, people start to sing karaoke, some men put on their cards and bets. The group from the beauty shop preens as they tried to catch the attention of the men from the hospital. Every one is gay and happy. And everything looks like someone is going to be buried the next day.

Miguelita smiled alone at the corner listening to the gays singing. When suddenly he felt a hand tapping on his shoulder and he looks in surprise that it’s Matt who is also drinking Vodka tonic.

Hi… you look so lonely here… why you’re not joining them. Matt speaks to him bravely.

Oh… I guess I’m just tired… I cooked the whole day you know… Miguelita smiles at him casually.

Hmmm… It’s so sweet of you cooking for your best friend? The young man told him in appreciation.

Yeah… he’s my family… The gay replied like a girl.

I’m just another woman in love, a kid out of school, a fire out of control… just another fool… touch me and I’m weak… lalalalala… Nene is singing Maureen Mcgovern’s “Just Another Woman in Love” in the karaoke.

Matt brought the whole bottle of Vodka and sits beside Miguelita…












To be continued... bukas sorry... ang dae kung gawa... promise...

THE LEGEND OF THE COFFEEMAKER part 4

How to tell a story series

Every human relationship has a tangible core. And we can think about it, analyze it all we want, It is unchangeable. The truth is Miguelita loved Cirilo with a burning passion akin to the fire of a great affair or hate.

Passion or perhaps hopelessness occupies Miguelita. And passion has no footing in reason. Passion is indifferent to reciprocal emotion, it needs to express itself to the full, live itself to the very end, no matter if it receives in return is kind feelings, sympathy, courtesy, friendship or mere patience… in short passion makes Miguelita a martyr. It’s not strange if Miguelita forgives Cirilo. The fear and uncertainties that just been revealed made him so tragically sad that no words could contain it but that didn’t stop him to love the doctor more.

The night knows their secret and the couple with silent mutual understanding made love as if the world would end the next day. There were no words spoken but tacit and unsaid sentiment interpreted with their kissing, touching and the constant gasping of the martyr homosexual. The walls as if feeling the couple’s passion, cover them with stillness.

The days turn to night, and nights turn to a month and months turn to a whole calendar, and the calendar turns to another calendar their affair lingers despite the constant travels of Cirilo to visit his kids and wife. Miguelita on other hand grew accustomed to his part as the other gay. He would wait for long hours for his man to come. The house and the coffee shop become cleaner from constant cleaning of Miguelita to while away the loneliness of waiting. He even finds time to clean his nails. Happiness to him now means the sound of Cirilo’s car as it parks on the driveway or the familiar sound of his lover’s footsteps.

Oh… what is this coffee, Miguelita? Nene talks to himself as he puts down the mug and looks at his horoscope on the tabloid paper.

That’s not coffee… stupid!!! That’s the water from the rag I just washed… where did you get that?... Miguelita restrains his laugh as he continues to wipe the white coffee cups which he arranged neatly on the rack.

Oh!!!… The fag spats the liquid and announces that he gets it from the pan kettle on the sink. “I thought its coffee”… he furthered and bends over to stand up and he went to the coffee shop’s kitchen. He went back to his table bringing with him a new mug of freshly brewed coffee just as a young man in a nurse’s uniform came in to the quite coffee shop.

Hey, mister can I have coffee please… the young nurse asked Nene as he glances at the clock on the wall that says 3:25 pm.

I’m not a waitress here, go asked that homosexual over there… The faggot pouts his lips pointing to the direction of Miguelita and continues to read his horoscope.

Excuse me can I have the blackest coffee you ever have without sugar please… The young nurse asked Miguelita ignoring the other bitch.

Miguelita with his back from the coffee drinker suddenly smiles and stop his wiping as he heard that familiar question remembering him how he first met Cirilo. He turns back and faces the young nurse with a big smile.

Oh… okay for a sec… please… Hey Nene… can you please help this young man to his table… He called to the other fag who glares at him.

Anything else?... He continues as he looked at the young nurse confidently.

The good looking young nurse stared shyly at Miguelita and stuttered as he replied blushingly… ahhh that’s all… and thank you, He quickly went to his table and glances at Miguelita nervously.

Though on his prime, Miguelita still looks attractive, He had this air of confidence, and an aura of contentment that makes you take a second look at him. His face though quaint is charming. Despite his firm image his smile is comforting like the smile we see with our mother’s when they hushed us if we cut ourselves.

Maybe he is gay… He thought knowingly as he glances at the young nurse who consciously stole a glance at him. He continues to wipe the white coffee cups and ordered Nene to hurry up in serving the coffee.

Nene now fully alert when he found out that the young nurse is handsome… forgetting his horoscope quickly he serves the coffee like a Tasmanian devil. After serving the coffee he befriended the man as the young nurse is new in town. Miguelita watch them in amusement as Nene works his charm on the young man. Strangely the nurse warms up easily to the faggot… Watching them he suddenly misses his Cirilo who is in his second month now with his family. He shouldn’t agree with it, regretfully he thought. It has been decided between the two of them that Cirilo would take a vacation from his work and spends time with his kids and wife. He remembers that the kids are growing up now. He wants to care, he wants to love… love is a heady concoction of wanting and being wanted. As much as he wants to --- he knows that it’s impossible, and with knowing abandon he just looks at the calendar longingly.

Queerly Nene hang-outs everyday at Miguelita’s coffee shop at 3:30 in the afternoon pretending to help Miguelita who also pretends that he doesn’t know that Nene has a crush on the young nurse. Miguelita understand exactly what his younger best friend felt as he felt it a long time ago… and he misses that feeling. He just smiles secretly when he sees Nene’s agitation if the young nurse won’t show up for a day as it is evident with all the broken cups that are accumulating at the back of the coffee shop.

To be concluded this afternoon... bwahahahahaha

THE LEGEND OF THE COFFEE MAKER part 3

How to tell a story series

There is really something about true love, you know… it doesn’t make you asks questions and it makes you contend of what you are. It doesn’t make you complete but it makes you more sure of yourself. Anyway, like a proper housewife Miguelita became a loyal, loving and compassionate partner to Cirilo. Knowing nothing about his partner’s past he still continues to love him. People thought Cirilo rented the other room of Miguelita’s gay house but to their unknowing they don’t know that they were lovers except Nene who saw it all.

The days passed and their affair as secret as it is, bloomed like a mushroom amongst decayed compost. Scenes like cooking together, talking as if it’s the end of the world, secretly hold hands while watching a movie, worrying together about broken pipes, kissing by the laundry, glancing sweetly at each other during parties, washing the dishes together, putting Vicks on each others chest whenever someone’s sick, texting what time his going home, Letting him taste his cooking by the stove, sleeping in others arm in pure abandon… all the good memories a homosexual can ever imagine… Miguelita’s life was never been happier.

Miguelita… Miguelita… Miguelita… Nene shouted at the door of his dear friend’s house. He is wearing a flowery shirt which matches the curtain she gave to Miguelita a long time ago.

And why are you here? bitch friend… and what is it this time… I don’t have money… Miguelita replied jokingly as he gestures to the other faggot to come in. He is holding a basketful of laundry and casually turns his back to the chubby visitor as she proceeds to the washing machine.

Gush… you Bitch, I know your imaginary husband is away… we should go out and watch the beauty pageant at the other town. Your enemy the “ingrate homosexual” who uses a lot of men is joining… Oh is that a Banana Que in the table… Nene went straight to the kitchen and didn’t bother to wait for Miguelita’s reply.

Nene munched on the Banana Que and announced to the other gay who is busy putting detergent to the washing machine.

“Oh… by the way… as your imaginary husband is away for a week now, Boyet the janitor in the hospital that I’m flirting with is giving me this letters and some medicine for your Cirilo”… Nene speaks with his mouth full and put the letters on the table.

Oh maybe you like coffee with that… the gay host replied as he glance at the bunch of letters on the table where Nene put it. He is putting the other dirty laundry in a soapy basin.

Without even saying thank you Nene automatically get two coffee mugs and started to brew coffee and the two queens chatted the afternoon away… The two divas have been good friend since they were young and very inseperable since Miguelita father died. They are like sister of the Bene Gesserit who have the same universal consiousness.

A late afternoon shower cast rainbow over the horizon as the two friends finishes thier coffee and Nene left late. And Miguelita continues to do the house chores and finally he picks up the letters and casually putting it on Cirilo’s desk, when a brightly colored postcard in a child’s handwriting falls to the floor. He picks it up, looks at it and cried.

The house is curiously dark when Cirilo arrives despite it still early in the evening.

Migue… Migue… hon… the doctor lovingly look for his partner as he opens the door and switches the lights on. He was suddenly surprised to see Miguelita crying in a corner by the kitchen. With concerned in his face he drops his bag and quickly run to his partner and asked him what happened. Miguelita did not replied and just give him the post card. Cirilo looked at the postcard with a cut-out of his face, two boys and a beautiful woman and the child’s hand writing says “We miss you daddy”….

The house as if watching them became silent, not the lizards nor the night dared to disturb that silence. Miguelita looked at Cirilo, he’s eyes is crying with questions… Cirilo embraced Miguelita in guilt… contained and muted… Miguelita sobs as Cirilo rocks him gently…

To be continued….

THE LEGEND OF THE COFFEE MAKER part 2

How to tell a story series

Like creamer for coffee the voice of the stranger calling Miguelita makes him stop to breath and he feels like dying. He turns around shyly and

Yes… yes sir… Me… you’re calling me… Miguelita replied.

“Yes, it’s lonely drinking this great coffee of yours and I’m new here, maybe you could give me some advice or whatever about your town” … the stranger replied casually.

I’m Cirilo by the way… Cirilo Franco… The stranger stands up and extent his hand.

Of course Miguelita drops the tray and pretends to dropped it accidentally as he apologetically extends his cold and shivering hand towards Cirilo. Cirilo accepts the cold hand with his warm hand and squeezed it tightly. The gay blushed.

I’m Miguelita… Yeah just Miguelita… the gay replied. He gestures to the handsome man to sit down as he picks up the fallen tray. He then proceeds to clear a chair and sits awkwardly…

… and in that scene begins a new chapter in the homosexual’s lonely existence.

“Cirilo Franco is a doctor that’s been stationed in the ER section of the town’s hospital. He actually comes from a distant city. He is confident, very articulate and strangely very loquacious for a man. He is well accepted in the hospital’s community as he is very good in his profession and popular as he makes the women swoon with his smile and beautiful eyes. I don’t know if his gay or his married but that doesn’t bother you right, And strangely he seems to like hanging out at your coffee shop lately”… The incriminating Nene narrates monotonously to Miguelita as he sips his coffee.

Oh and by the way you look different today… the diva furthered.

You look like you did something to your face or something? Whatever … I need to go back to my dresses now… and thanks for the coffee… see yah later… Nene said goodbye to Miguelita who were cleaning up the table.

Ever since that night when Cirilo first came to Miguelita’s place, the homosexual was never been the same again. The world seems brighter and more meaningful for him. His life of constant grinding and brewing became a life of hoping and loving. Queerly Cirilo on other hand became closer to Miguelita as he frequents his coffee shop. Over bittersweet black coffees they talked almost every night after both of them finishes their duties… and oddly formed a bond that even Nene clearly notices that their falling for each other. And their talking leads to touching and the touching leads to sex and then there is no mystery left as everything is consummated. Then a couple of months more Cirilo decided to move in to Miguelita’s place.

The homosexual is beautiful… Nene thought.

To be continued… bwahahahahahaha….

THE LEGEND OF THE COFFEE MAKER part 1

"how to tell a story" series

Well… well… well… there you are my expectators and pupils who were expecting me to write another story because it’s addicting. Well anyway, as I woke up today and I found out that I don’t have coffee anymore. The coffee that Oli gave me last month from Vietnam is already consummated. I panicked and twirls like a Tasmanian devil around the kitchen looking for some coffee in my cupboards and the fridge, luckily I found a red package that reads “Vietnam’s coffee from the Highland”. I don’t remember where it came from maybe Shun gave it to me. Anyway I had it pressed on with “Angelu” my new coffee press. Pressing the grains a story formed in my heady brain and I called it “The legend of the Coffee Maker”.

Okay gays and more gays at the back listen as I know a lot of you can relate to this story of mine. Okay here it goes…


THE LEGEND OF THE COFFEE MAKER


Once upon a time in a world similar to ours, a 30 something handsome gay lived a solitary life. His name is Miguelita. He lives alone with his plants and herbs. Miguelita is very kind, quite and disciplined. In his lifetime he was never been in love and his shapely ass is a virgin. Though he had some crushes with some men in the town, he doesn’t have the courage to take on them. He just contend himself with the warmth of his lonely hands and the comfort of naked immobile men in the magazines. He frequents the church during Sundays and always guiltily asked for forgiveness about his being different from the other men in their goddamn conformist town. He doesn’t have a lot of friends but he had one good friend “Nene” - the town’s dressmaker. Nene is also gay who is gregarious and funny as oppose to Miguelita’s stoic image.

Miguelita owns a small coffee shop which he inherited from his deceased gay father. (Yeah homosexuality is inborn it’s not airborne.) The coffee shop he had is quite popular as his coffee is very good more than Starbucks and it’s cheap as well. A lot of people drink coffee in his shop especially doctors and nurses because the shop is located near the town hospital. Being a quite and small businessman Miguelita is always optimistic. He always keeps the wind behind his back and the sun on his face. For him all the immediate unknowns are better than knowing about his tired and lonely life.

Motherless since he was young, no relatives in town, and raised by his gay father who is a migrant from a distant country, Miguelita grew up a loner. Everyday of his life he just makes good coffee and serves biscuits to his customers. Except for some occasion when he would joins Nene going to the city to buy supplies and stuff. Life for him is a constant grinding and brewing coffee until one rainy night when a man came to his shop.

It’s almost midnight and Miguelita is checking on his day’s ledger, when a man without umbrella storms to his coffee shop. Water is dripping at the adobe tiled floor where the man shakes himself out of the rainwater from his brown jacket. He took the jacket off and lazily hangs it on a chair spine and he smiled at Miguelita.

As if the camera is shifted quickly to Miguelita who looks at him in slow motion. Miguelita’s eyes see love for the first time. Seconds felt like a million light years away and everything in the coffee shop looks bright and pink, the sleeping flowers on the vases wake up to full bloom, the mosquitos and night insects disappear, and strangely Melissa Manchester’s “Looking through the Eyes of Love” starts to play on the background.

Hi, good evening, are you still serving coffee? The stranger asked politely and waited for a reply that never come.

Hey? Are you okay? Mister? The stranger asked again.

Miguelita stared at him blankly with a strange smile at the corners of his pouting lips. The lizard on the wall wants to slap the homosexual. The sound of the stranger’s snapping fingers wakes him up and he replied blanky.

Ummmhhh… yeah I’m available… uhhhmmm… yeah!!! I’m still open… Miguelita replied nervously and tried to regain his croaking throat as he summon his courage to appear normal even though his heart thumps like the thumper they used in “Dune” to summon the worms.

“I want the blackest coffee you have without sugar.” The stranger requested as he smiled at Miguelita. He has the most beautiful smile in the whole wide world ever. Of course Miguelita almost died.

“O… okay”… Miguelita replied like a young gay with ants in his underwear.

Forgetting the day’s ledger the homosexual quickly grind his most expensive coffee he kept in his cupboard and brewed it to perfection and he even strained it an expensive Egyptian cotton as he put the dark liquid in a beautiful blue coffee mug. Melissa Manchester continues to wail in the background.

The stranger sits by the door area and watched the rain pouring like hell. Miguelita served him the coffee and he put some biscuits on the side, he even bothered to put a small flower in a small vase and he put the trayful on the stranger’s table, gesturing that the coffee is ready.

“Enjoy your coffee sir”. Miguelita announced to the stranger who was fumbling for something from his pocket and brought some cash and he put it in the table gesturing to Miguelita to pick it up and said. “Thank you” as he smiled again to the love strucked gay. Again Miguelita almost died.

Miguelita picks up the money and the tray and started to go to the counter when the stranger called to him and asked the startled homosexual if he could join him…

To be continued… bwahahahahahaha…

THE LEGEND OF THE VACUUM CLEANER (part 2)

The festival started and everyone is gay. Balloons and cotton candies spark colors among the busy fairground. Ferris wheel, Carousels and Fire blowing clowns make the front yard of the school merry. The stable in the right wing of the school is already packed with noisy and annoyed horses with carriages and wagons among them. People from all parts of the kingdom donned in their fanciest clothes joined the revelry. And then the “Mayora” shouted with billowed voice announcing the commencement of the “Egg Sucking Contest” as he waved his hand in time for the curtains to open revealing a tableful of Ostrich eggs neatly arranged in the middle of the arena.

Ohhhh… the people gasped.

“I didn’t know that it’s an ostrich eggs, I’ll back out”. One contestant complained.

“Yeah”, me too!!! …. another one shouted.

Oh forgive us… lovely and gay people of Deva Station… the Mayora explained.

It was been agreed among us the elders to replace the normal chicken eggs with ostrich eggs as it’s bigger and not so messy unlike the chicken eggs which are difficult to clean… The Mayora furthered.

And the “Egg Sucking Contest” begins…

Chonabelle grinned evilly at the corner knowing that he would get the title once again. The Mayora called to the contestants one by one and each contestant sucked the large eggs. Slurping sounds and ahhhs from the crowd lifted the people’s spirit and excitement as the contest goes on. Only two contestants got to at least 8 ostrich eggs until Chonabelle was called. Chonabelle sucked at least 16 ostrich eggs, but still, he manages to smile and laugh to the crowd even if he cannot breath. He feels bloated and carried out an arrogant bow.

Finally the twin’s names were called, of the gay twin only Susan Mae went to the middle of the arena to suck the eggs. Nervously clad in his Fuschia Pink empired cut dress, Susan Mae reached for the huge eggs and started to suck each one. The crowd went silent, only Susan Mae’s slurping can be heard among the restrained breath of the spectators.

Slurp… Slurp… Slurp… Susan Mae continues to suck the huge eggs.

From a distant the sound seems like a dubbed gay porn. And to everyone’s surprise Susan Mae sucked her 16th egg and he summoned more of his strength to get another more egg to the dismay of Chonabelle. The crowd cheered…

Suck!!! Suck!!! Suck!!! Susan Mae!!! SUCK!!! The crowd chanted.

Chonabelle turns blue from anger and green with envy. In slow motion Susan Mae sucks the last egg as Chonabelle jumps and run towards the sucking homosexual… He pushed Susan Mae making him swallow the whole ostrich egg complete with all the sharp shells…

At the same time in the stable, sitting invisibly on a white unicorn, Gwendolin with his “Elie Saab” gown is observing the crowd. He is watching over the twins as he knows that the evil adopted sister would do something bad to his favorite gay twins. But she got bored as the names of the twins were listed last on the list. Luckily he brought with him his rainbow colored make-up box. Out of boredom he started to manicures his nail. He shifted and balances himself on the back of the white unicorn to put colors in his left toenails when accidentally he drops a droplet of nail polish to the horse’s left eye. The unicorn of course jolts in pain making all the horses in the stable panic and caused a stampede towards the festive crowd…

Susan Mae is gasping for air as the huge ostrich egg was stuck in his throat. Anita Mae ran to his gay twin. The whole crowd watched in horror as the twin struggles. Then suddenly the bleacher cracks and the stampede of horses came in… The crowd broke in alarm as the animals run through them. From bird’s eye view the scene is covered with dust as people and animals scramble to safety. It took several minutes for the crowd to clear… everything is hazy and dusty. In the corner, amidst the chaos Anita Mae manages to unchoke Susan Mae. The poor gay twin fearfully embraces each other as they watch Chonabelle being dragged by the raging horses.

The dusty scene finally subsides. The crowd was gathered in the right wing corner of the arena avoiding the remaining horses that calmly walk as if nothing happened. Then they, including the twins heard a humming sound coming from the still cloudy middle area of the arena. Everyone is waiting in anticipation as what it might be… Then a silhouette of a figure comes to shape. It was the fairy fag Gwendolin, she is holding a strange device that sucks every dirty things on the floor. The people gasp…

Gwendolin walks toward the twins who look at him as if they saw the blessed virgin mother Theresa. The faggot fairy then gives Susan Mae and Anita Mae the strange device that sucks everything. The twin though confused smiled… strangely something in their faces looks different… they look more lighter and beautiful as if something heavy was lifted out from their sad faces. Then Gwendolin do the hip shake thing and she’s gone leaving a beautiful memory to the young gays.

Midnight… inside a dark stockroom of the twin’s house, the vacuum cleaner weeps.

Of course it’s Chonabelle...


There you are my behave pupils, again tell me the moral lesson about it… and I’ll give you a free vacuum… bwahahahahahahaha

HOW TO TELL A STORY (Part 2) - The Legend of the Vacuum Cleaner

Well… well… well… there you are my neat, tidy and beautiful pupils of mine. Today I’m so excited to tell another story as I woke up happy this morning the fact that I brought a new Italian coffee press last Saturday. And I called her “Angelu”. Of course, Marla is still there though she’s broken already, I don’t have the heart to throw her away. I brought the coffee press because I love the brand name of it… it’s called Windax… which reminds me of the gay word “Windang” which means crazy.

Me, Miss Earth and Miss Frida went to “Sorya” last Saturday to buy Miss Frida’s head set. As I go around the appliance center I’ve looked emptily at the long display of vacuum cleaners and remember that my new Cyberdiva friend Matilda was asking me to write a story about it… so of course knowing me and knowing you, a story formed in my chaotic head.

Okay young homosexual, sit tight and this story is all about you greedy and envious faggots… specially the noisy group sitting at back… okay here it goes.


THE LEGEND OF THE VACUUM CLEANER

Once upon a time in a gay kingdom of “Deva Station”, which is located somewhere in the middle of a desert and between the two large river of Devos and behind a large cliff of limestone and under a foggy skyline in short it’s a very hard to reach kingdom, there lived a young homosexual. He is an orphan and his girly name is Chonabelle. Chonabelle lives with his foster Auntie Mathilda who also had twins. Their names are Susan Mae and Anita Mae who loves Barbie dolls too much and never go out of the house if their clothes are not the same.

As a young gay, Chonabelle has an affinity to sucking things in fact even when he was just a year old he thumbsucks a lot. Even in school he sucks all the pens and pencil he could hold. The twins always keep their pen, crayons and pencil away from Chonabelle as he is very euphoric when he sees those things. The three young gays studied in the same school and Chonabelle being the eldest always bully the twins.

Aunt Mathilda strict as she may seem is also kind. She loves Chonabelle more than her twins which of course makes the other two young gays jealous of Chonabelle. However because of Aunt Mathilda’s overbearing love for Chonabelle, Chonabelle grew up as a brat, a bully and a bitch. He goes around school bragging a lot of stuff while sucking on a cherry flavored lollipop. He is very popular at school because even if he is a brat he had a very tremendous charisma and he always has new set of things and fashion every season making him more of a trendsetter at their gay school. He can almost get away with everything.

On the other hand not as beautiful as Chonabelle the twins grew closer to each other, the fact that their mother doesn’t love them that much. They became more withdrawn and play with each other more often despite the frequent bullying of the bad orphan sister they had. They always play on a pumpkin patch in the garden behind their house. Out of their unknowing, there in that pumpkin patch live a transsexual Fairy named Gwendolin who watched the twins and Chonabelle invisibly everyday. The twins love to sing Mariah and Whitney’s “When You Believe” (the soundtrack from “The Prince of Egypt”), which the dragged fairy loves to listen so much, in fact he made an invisible hammock where he can lie down and listen to Susan Mae and Anita Mae singing. And these go on everyday as the three gays grew into beautiful teenagers.

The highschool is always a place for survival and the poor twins has become the school clowns of course thanks to their devious and bad sister Chonabelle. There were times that Chonabelle locked the twins in the school gym the whole weekend, or sometimes she would sprinkle marijuana on their lunch box making the twins high the whole day and they would walk hand in hand in the hallway singing “When you believe” again and again. Chonabelle loves the pleasure of torturing Susan Mae and Anita Mae out of their wit. This of course seems not to bother their mother Mathilda as she is always busy playing mahjong with her friends in high places.

However everything changes during the “Annual Egg Festival” in which their school is the host. The highlight of the festival is the “Egg Sucking Contest” where in contestants will battle for the ultimate title of the greatest Egg Sucker. To win the contest one has to suck as many eggs as he can and whoever have the greater numbers of eggs would win the coveted title. Of course the ever evil Chonabelle enlisted the poor twins without their knowing. And of course the people were expecting Chonabelle to win the title again as he is the defending champion of that event...

To be continued... bwa... hahahahahahahah!!!!

HOW TO TELL A STORY (part 1)

Well…well…well… look what we have here. Ah there you are my bored, lonely and aging pupils of mine. I went home last night tired I just finished three storyboards for a mobile phone company and one for a perfume. Though tired and hungry I still manage to cook for my dinner. God it’s lonely when you’re beautiful and alone… I missed him.

I prepared for myself “pork menudo”. I showered and change on my house outfit, I put the used clothes in the laundry bin and was so surprised to see that’s its already full and then I remember that Bong Srey (the cleaning lady) was absent last Saturday. I went back to the kitchen to check my cooking then proceeded to the washing machine bringing with me a sackful of dirty clothes, clothes and clothes. I stuffed the white colored shirt first and let the machine do its job.

I make coffee and sat by the kitchen table, the house felt so empty. Even the neighborhood is quite except for some meows of horny cats. I can hear the pot mumbling with steam and the humming of the washing machine. Sipping the hot coffee I stared at the washing machine in complete emptiness. I thank God for the machine as I don’t like doing laundry, I wonder and thought how and why washing machine is created. Out of waiting for my cooking and the laundry a story formed in my mind… and I called it “The legend of the washing machine”.

Okay homosexuals at the back who don’t listen to me, I will spare all of you with my guidelines today, for a change. Today I will just tell you a story… We’re going to have quiz after this.

THE LEGEND OF THE WASHING MACHINE

A long, long time ago in the farthest corner of the world, in a small town that’s difficult to pronounce… there lived a girl. Her name is Lenlen. She bore the mark of a 3G (God’s Given Gift) in short she is very beautiful. She lives with her mother who makes money out of washing other people’s dirty laundry. Her beauty is the envy of all the girls in that town, though poor her mother somehow manages to get her to high school. But after she graduated high school she continued to wash other people’s laundry because her mother is getting old. She as always goes to her favorite spot of the riverbank every time she washes the laundry.

The river is as old as anyone can say, however it was been dammed by a corporation that is owned by the father of one of her suitors - Carlos. Lenlen has a lot of suitors, but she doesn’t have the heart for them as she knows that her heart is of her own… she is a lesbian. But Carlos is very enamored to her that he would do everything to win Lenlen’s heart. Carlos always goes to the river to see Lenlen washing clothes. Sometimes he helped her hang clothes in a mile long clothes line.

Everyday the scene on the river side looks like a long TV commercial for a detergent soap. And the days passed as Carlos continues to woe for her. And finally he gets tired of the same answers he got. Though firm with her words Lenlen has always been honest to Carlos that she doesn’t love him but she like him as a brother she never had. So Carlos one day decided to take Lenlen by force, But Lenlen is good in karate… of course Carlos failed.

So Carlos decided to stop seeing Lenlen who became more beautiful everyday. Then the day came when Lenlen’s poor mother died. Burying her near the river she ran to her favorite spot of the riverbank and cried her heart out in solitude. She then raised her lonely head to the heavens with eyes full of salty water… the sound of her mind says… I’m going to leave this town and find my luck somewhere… I’m missing you mother… it echoed through the empty wind.

Maybe Carlos has mental telepathy, He knows that Lenlen will going to leave the town. So he went home to his acre-big mansion immediately and ordered his maids to take off all the big curtains, bed sheets, pillow cases, rugs, carpets, even the table cloths and all the dirty clothes. The dirty linens and clothes accumulate to a truckful. Carlos then ordered the maids to deliver everything to Lenlen’s house. The plan is to keep Lenlen from not leaving the lonely town.

Strangely Lenlen accepted the offer maybe she doesn’t have the money to pay for the bus when she leaves or money to rent for a house when she moves to the city. Carlos was glad to hear from the maids that Lenlen has taken the offer. So he called his friends and party till he was drunk with misery and pleasure. Lenlen on the other corner of the town went to the river bringing with her the curtains as it is a lot to wash.

The morning is quite fine when Lenlen went to the river. The birds were chirping gleefully as small rabbits passes Lenlen’s dainty feet. She then proceeds to wash the curtains and sang “I’ve got one hand in my pocket” by Alanis Morrisette. She was on her twentieth curtain when she heard a big explosion from a distant. The earth shook and in a split of second Lenlen saw the water coming…The dam exploded.

The peaceful existence of the town folks was disturbed by the pandemonium of the aftermath. Cries and scream echoes through the chaotic town. The broken dam looks serene despite the fact that it destroys a lot of lives. Carlos still groggy from alcohol went to Lenlen’s favorite spot and there he wails in anguish… what’s left of Lenlen is her “Spartan” slippers… Clutching his chest he shouted… LENLEN!!! Forgive me!!! his mournful scream was drowned by the gushing water.

From then on, seasons changed and the people started to forget everything but not Carlos. Since the incident Carlos moved to the city to study. For ten long years he was still in anguish for what happened to Lenlen; Finally he returned to the lonely town and hide in seclusion in his lonely room. Not the maids nor his father could make Carlos come out of his room and these keeps on going on for two years. Then one morning as the maid bring Carlos his breakfast she found him dead embracing what they thought is a machine.

Yes, you guess it right, it’s a washing machine…

Okay that’s it my pupils. Of course it’s not true… you stupid. Now who can tell me the moral lessons of the story. That’ll be your assignment for next week…

Mwahhh…

HOW TO TELL A PERSON'S PERSONALITY BY ITS BLOOD TYPE

Well… well… well… there you are my bloody pale but beautiful pupils of mine. I felt so compose and behave today… must be the effect of the medicine I’m taking. Since last Saturday I started to see the rising sun again for the first time in a year now. I’m kind of guilty about my spoiled self the fact that Shun wakes up so early in the morning. I used to wake up early before but since I lived now in Cambodia I still have jet lagged for three years, despite the fact that the Philippines is an hour advance from Cambodia. Well anyway I woke up today feeling like Jennifer Holliday and Jennifer Hudson… singing “No… no… no… way… No… no… no… way… I’m leaving without you… you’re the best man I’ve ever known… no… no… no… way… In short I’m just feeling lazy going to the office today.

Last Saturday, I had a new pair of beautiful sandals. I had it made to order from a local shoe shop, you see Cambodia still have those shops unlike in our country we all buy it in SM malls na. The pair of sandal fits me well and I like it so much that I wear it right away and swashay my way in Russian market buying a fake Versace mail bag. The rest of my Saturday is all about old movies. I came to watch “As good as it gets”, “The Village” and “The island of Dr. Moreau” again and made popcorns from an old kettle. Shun is in Vietnam. My sister called that my Fudra* is sick, God my poor fudra he’s already old. I missed him I guess. I love my fudra so I sent money last Monday.

My Sunday is also beautiful as Shun cooked for me “Japanese chicken curry” which tasted so good. Shun is a perfectionist but not the type that would control everyone like the ex-friend I had before. I know he is observing me from afar as I’m observing him too, I mean about our personalities and habits. He notices that I’m kind of a Diva (which of course I am) and that I leave my stuff on the kitchen sink and had all the ants feasted on my leftovers. And I was so ashamed of myself and apologized for my mistake then explained that I’ve been alone for a long time and I have a cleaning lady too, who incidentally was absent last Saturday. Then he jokingly teased me that my blood is type “B”. I was so surprised that he knows what my blood type is. Yes I’m type B+ and I asked him why and how did he come to know about my Rare and Royal Blood?

Then he asked me to sit down and listen to him, as he waved his soapy hands. He is washing the dishes. So he told me… That in Japan there is a belief that a person’s personality can be distinguished according to his blood type. The notion started in the 1930’s when Furukuwa Takeji disprove the idea that Asian blood were more closely related to animals than humans. Since then the idea of personality being influenced by blood type remains and even get to other shores such as Korea. Almost all Japanese are aware of their blood types. They even have a blood horoscope, almost similar to our universal horoscope… which I love. Companies during that time in Japan even had divided workers by blood type. And if you’re a gaming addict especially in RPG games you would notice that most of the characters have blood types on their profiles. In Korea there was even a movie about it… “My boyfriend is Type B.”

My personality shows a lot of signs being a B type as he said. My being moody, craziness, my laziness, my creativity, being an individualist - which he simply refers as selfishness and my persistence are obvious signs of a type B. But I simply replied to him that my personality is really a B because it’s stands for “Bayot, Bakla, Bading, Badaf, Banshee, Bayogin, Binabae, Bergenya kantupay, Burikat na bayot, Baggot , Bag, Branny or Bomosexual, etc.” WHATEVER!!!

He is type A which is very common in Japan. But a lot of them like the type O as they are more universal and down to earth. The main red blood cell groups are A, B, AB, and O. Type O is the most common blood, which is relatively high on Hispanic people like the Brazilians. Type B is quite common among Asians.

Okay homosexuals at the back, know your blood types and copy everything from the board. Today I will spare you with my guidelines but instead I just teach you the influences of your blood to your already tragic and miserable lives. Sigh… I am beautiful… I am beautiful… I am beautiful…

How to tell a person’s personality by its blood type

Type A… persons with this type of blood tends to be outwardly calm but withdrawn. They have that deep rooted strength which makes them a very responsible person. If there’s a job to be done, they prefer to do it by themselves. They crave for success and are perfectionist. Despite their calm nature they are unconfrontational and very sensitive. They like harmony, peace and organization. They work well with others, and are patient and affectionate. Among their weaknesses are stubbornness and an inability to relax.

Type B… are the Bayots, no just kidding. They are the rugged individualist, who are very straightforward, independent and likes to do things they’re own way. Creative and practical, they adapt easily to any situation. Type B's are goal oriented, they tend to stick to a goal and follow it through the end even if it seems impossible. They are selfish in the sense that they like to follow their own rules and their own ideas. They are often considered to be more relaxed, freewheeling and unconventional. Although frequently misunderstood for their eccentricities type B’s are loyal, sincere and sweet. But their insistence on being independent can sometimes go too far and become a weakness.

Type AB… Cool and controlled, they are generally well liked and always put people at ease. They are natural entertainer who’s tactful and fair. But sometimes they are standoffish, blunt, and have difficulty making decisions. As they are combined type of blood they tend to be shy and outgoing and can be both confident and timid. They are very trustworthy and responsible. They’re known to be sensitive and considerate at times but it isn’t enough to balance out the flaws in their blood type.

Type O… They have the natural ability to lead. Type O’s are devoted, passionate, and self-confident. They are initiators, although they don't always finish what they start. They value the opinions of others and are popular, they love to be the center of attention and appear very self confident. They are outgoing, energetic and social creatures despite the fact that they easily give up. Their weaknesses include vanity and jealously and a tendency to be too competitive.

Strange world… Okay that’s it my pupils and student for today… I’m going to slash my wrist tonight to see if my blood type is really B. Ohhh…. Sha… sha… sha… gabor na!!! Don’t forget your homework.

*Fudra--- gay word for father

HOW TO WARM A HOUSE

Well… well… well… there you are my wide eyed, noisy and stubborn pupils of mine. Today I woke up dazed and felt that my brain is shrinking to peanut size, I can hear it bouncing on my hollow skull. I’m taking a massive doze of pain reliever because my “Gouty Arthritis of the Toe” is attacking me since last week and it was worse last night. It feels like I’m floating on air. So I want everyone to behave today as you can see my stick don’t forgive anyone… not like this when my left foot is aching badly… okay intiendes por kemi el ninos la ninas iportate bien!!! Hmmmp…

Anyway as my Saturday is busy so is my Sunday. Last Sunday I went to Miss Grace’s new apartment which is close to that beautiful Villa Lanca’. But before that I was having breakfast with Shun, He let me taste his Japanese thing which taste good. Shun surprisingly is sweet and nice though I can sense that he’s afraid of me. I don’t know why, I don’t eat human beings I only love them, you know… must be my one-line eyebrows.

After the breakfast, donned in a fake D&G grey “pekpek” shorts and Guy Laroche orange polo shirt I’d proceeded to Miss Grace’s place in my wagon (tuktuk), Bringing with me a slightly large barbeque grill and large plastic container of “Adobong Pusit”. The tuktuk driver kept looking at me wondering if I’m a woman or a man… sigh poor creature he didn’t see my hairy legs. Anyway I arrived at her apartment around 10:30 AM, God her place is beautiful, I’m suddenly became insecure. Hmmmp… I used to be on top in terms of apartments among the expats in Riverorchid, Then Ms. Frida came and my position is pushed to second level scale, then Ms. Earth and now Miss Grace… sigh… I’ve got to do something about these before I get to fifth place. I envied them the fact that they got all that huge flat screen TVs on their living rooms… I have to tell my landlord I need a flat screen TV, mine is like so 10 years ago… sigh. That’s the problem with social climbing sometimes its hard keeping up with the latest things… I feel like Nova Villa in “Abangan ang susunod na kabanata…” I missed that show.

Anyways the apartment is beautiful, the bed has canopy (shit). She had that beautiful orange lamp hanging in the middle of the room. I’m achingly green with envy, the only saving factor I had that day is my orange shirt which matches her lamp. I get to her house just in time she finishes her shower. We prepared the fish for grilling. She chopped the onions and tomatoes to be stuffed on the four big tilapias. I prepared the charcoal for grilling. She cooked the rice and set the table as I start to grill the hotdogs and the fishes which are packed in aluminum foil and BWALA we’re ready for a House Warming party.

Then Miss Frida and Miss Earth arrived with their cooking which is “Adobo sa Puti” and "Ensalada". Then Mr. Magno arrived with a bible in hand, he just came from the church. Miss Arwen with all the drinks arrived and then Ms. Deborah with her Leche Flan and Maja Blanca. And the revelry started. The food are fantastic, we had the hotdogs affixed on a pineapple reminiscent of birthday parties in our hometown. Some late guests came and Miss Romina Cuervo came late with the same orange colored shirt like mine… Hmmpp… She strongly arrived (malakas ang dating) as if a whirlwind. She’s always like that spying on what I’m wearing. Miss Cuervo is my friend cum rival in everything. From men to clothing, I’d never seen her for a long time after that incident with her churva and friend or whatevah, a few months earlier.

We finished the festivity with a dessert and watched T2, which I taught is a long TV commercial for an iced tea. As you know Cambodia don’t have cinema for foreign films, they only show local produced movies and some Indochinese movies. They have malls but to the level of our old malls. But of course pirated dvd’s are in abundance so we are still updated in movies around the world. I know it’s wrong but we don’t have a choice, do we? Surprisingly the movie is quite good, Maricel Soriano is really good in everything. T2 feels like a Japanese horror, I love the fact that they lessen the musical score but focus more on the script which is very natural and sometimes funny.

Well, now my left foot is aching… I need to teach you now the “art of house warming” before I bore you death with my yawyaws. Before, I taught you the art of warding off negative energy of your house now it’s all about warming it up. Okay homosexuals from the back stop criticizing me, I can hear it. Copy everything from the board.

How to warm a house

Do that ritual thing… I’ve learn this from my Mudra, wither you’re religious or not it helps to warm a house before dwelling on it. Put a sprinkle of salt in any entrance of your house, these according to superstition would ward off negative energy from your house. Here in Cambodia they put that little house outside of their home to the belief that some spirit would dwell on it rather on their houses. Sometimes they throw rice on the windows during the morning to appease good luck.

Put water outside… this is to the belief that bad luck would be suck in by the water instead of your house. At the same time it also looks nice, here they usually have that clay pot full of water in front of the main door and they float flowers on it.

Put on incense… the smoke symbolizes the warmth that would bring good fortune to your house aside the fact that it make the house smells good… choose the flowery scent as it is more conducive for relaxing.

Clean everything… Clean every nook and corner of your new house, the reason for this is to make you familiarize every area of your house, while at the same time cleaning it.

Check the doors… for locks and everything, check also if you had a fire exit and if you don’t have be aware of where to go in case of emergencies.

Lastly celebrate with a pot luck party… aside the fact that it’s practical, it also symbolizes “one’s luck or chance as to what may be in the pot.”


Okay my little dummies that’s it for today and have a happy weekend. I’m going to take a moment of rest now as my Rayuma is aching badly now…

Ngut-ngut man oy… agoy…agoy…agoy…