Strawberry Shortcake CuppyCake Song

little amy is now grown up...

can you believe that she sang the cupcake song? ^.^

FiFA Fever -- the night of the yellow cards

Bayani getting his flag painted on his face

Don't be impressed. I slept halfway during the game. ehehe! Blame it on the party I attended the night before. Maaan, everybody was cheering at the rooftop, and there I was, at the back on long wood chair, near the food table, sleeping like a dead person **blush blush.

VavaVrooom Party by Colt 45

It's nice to be back in Davao again and hang out. Last night was Colt 45's Vavavroom Party...0f course, moi decided to go to take a peek at the beautiful Christine Reyes. I didn't really know that Colt 45 rebranded and did some reformulation. The new taste is actually very nice. I like it. The only brand I've been into for years is red horse...guess I have two favorite drinks now ^.^

The night started with a press conference with Christine Reyes in Damosa's "A taste of Malaysia" Restaurant. Even if I was late, I was seated in front, ok i stole the seat and ended up chatting with the KBP President...coolness.

and I won a cup...wahahhaah! **ang babaw ng kaligayahan...nyahahah! scroll down for some fun shots below ^.^

I was with Doc Charles of Why Not Coconut and Kevin of Pinoy Teens  Richard, and Mark.

One of the best photographers of Davao, Rene Lumawag (or tatay as we call him) caught my attention when he dropped his lens...good thing it did not broke =)...the usual ABS-CBN and GMA people are there also.

But what really surprised me was to find out that a friend of mine, LILY, was one of the organizers and is the one handling the COLT 45 Event. *double weeeh! Okay imagine me in my truck rushing, a.k.a. driving carelessly, towards the last spot in front of the restaurant... all disheveled, clutching my camera and trying to fix my hair only to shriek because I unexpectedly saw a friend...and to double shriek after she told me that she is part of the organizing committee....*laughs.

I am sooo stupid sometimes.I thought she was only doing gourmet ice cream! Didn't know she is into advertising! Oh and her ice cream is superb! She came from the family who started the "dirty ice cream" business in the Philippines. Will have to feature it in my blog soon ^.^

W were given VIP Passes after the conference weeeeh! Ate Neng was super glad to know Raimund Marasigan of Sandwich will be there as well as the one year old band, Hilera.  I was tasked to ask for his shirt...hehe. I did not dare ask...but i coordinated with certain people to steal it for me...told them to send it to me via parcel...**crossing fingers. Hope it arrives soon! hahaha!

Nice to see old friends and familiar faces. 

Nice to be back in Davao ^.^

Needless to say, I had a great night!

worshiping the beer tower with lily

Ms. Christine Reyes, Presscon

Lily with Colt 45 Brand Manager and fellow organizers

Colt 45 Girls

Colt45 Girls

Hilera

kawat ang food

with maritini

with manong brando, bodyguard of the night ^.^

with colt 45 brand manager joseph consul

waaaaah! eeeeh! hahahaha!

negra with the mestiza ahaha!

we love you beer tower!

we love you beer cases! haha!

Breathing

Take a deep breath.

Close your eyes.

Can you see your future before you?

Or are you still being haunted by your past?

Are you still shaken at how poorly you've chosen your friends?

or was it...how poorly you have understood them?

Can you still smell the roses?

Do you still love the earth under your feet?

Perhaps the wind has brought on some memories?

Did you catch the ones you like the most?

Or was it the sad things that got caught in between your fingers?

Do you wish to untangle your heart?

Are you bleeding because you are trying so hard?

Can you dance to the tune of the silent bowing of the trees?

Can you aim at the flying dove that only your gaze could reach?

So many questions in your head right now...

So many things you have known that you unnecessarily have to worry about.

But you worry anyway...and you think...

but still the world hasn't stopped turning.

It didn't even pause for you to lick your wounds.

Nor did it trap the trumpet that loudly shook your stable regions.

Nor did it punish the worthlessness of it all.

It just turned...and turn it will go...until the day you cease to feel its movement.

Oh, it will not stop.

It is too proud for that.

But your tears aren't left unheard, and the careless whisper that broke your heart will not go without receiving its own punishment. It will hear the echo of the voice it used. It will endlessly convince oneself that it was the right thing to do. But one knows, it was out of bounds.

A false sense of call of duty on goodness.

It only broke a heart, trampled on a promise, and tore the cloth of friendship.

What was left for that unlucky one are days of broken glass and memories of things that will never come back.

And you...what do you have?

Doubts.

Fear.

And courage to head on...

They say you should take care of your friends...

If so, one can never have too many friends...only too many to take care of...

Open your eyes.

The rain has stopped.

It is still cold...but not too cold to open your letters.

Read them again.

They are good reminders that you are loved.

Loved beyond understanding.

Loved beyond betrayal.

Loved beyond doubt.

Loved beyond anything you could imagine.

And life isn't fair...no wonder some people hate you.

You got a bigger piece of share.

"I see the moon, and the moon sees me. God bless the moon and God bless me"

nursery rhyme

money matters

My friend commented on how beautiful a Lexus car is.
I shrugged my shoulders and closed my eyes...
I have better things to think and daydream about -- like ice cream and chocolates and this hunk on the billboard with its 6-pack abs glaringly and sinfully inviting me to think provoking thoughts that will ensure my disinheritance if ever my mom develop the ability to read minds..
My head buzzed from it all, so daydreaming was cut short.

I looked at my friend and I looked at him closely. He is still beaming about this Lexus car who passed us by. Was it white? I forget.

My thoughts flying on his earlier comment..and came to a conclusion...
"rich men can be so boring sometimes"...
Only then did I realize that I was thinking aloud...
He heard me.
He looked at me briefly and breathed heavily.
He stopped talking.
"Damage control" in red neon lights flashing in my brain.
Ugh... now I have to make amends or i get booted out of the car...and I hate walking as much as I hate public transpo.

I opened my mouth and then tried to smile sheepishly...you know, that guilty smile you produce that looks more like of a sneer than a friendly gesture? it didn't help. He is still upset.

What I meant when I thought and stupidly said the statement is that, sometimes, people with money take better care over something that never loves them back. That's why they crave more attention,they are more emotionally unstable...and the more they get the more they need to have some more. They are insatiable.

They talk more about gadgets and gizmos but doesn't even have a clue about how to go about their personal relationships.
They know more the serial numbers of their engines rather than their anniversary dates.
They bank more on the bills they have compared to their emotional investment in friendships. They have more patience to read manuals rather than hear their partner's thoughts.
They'd rather break a marriage over properties rather than honoring their vows of "till death do us part".

They confuse people to be dispensable when its their "toys" are.
And they complain that they feel empty despite everything.
Isnt it obvious?
what would you expect?
you've built a whole relationship over material things that can neither talk or walk on its own, and you expect reciprocation?
you gave your all to something who can never give you anything expect maintenance receipts!

They spend millions over cars. Put too much attention to its details...but forget how to treat their drivers correctly.
Cars cannot reciprocate love...but drivers can offer loyalty.
but no, some prefer the perfect roar of the engine to that.
They are so proud of their mansions...and treat their furniture better than their helpers, not remembering the fact that their helpers make their houses, keep their beds, prepare their meals. A kind word is more than enough of a gesture to make them feel appreciated.
And loved workers respect their masters.

In a relationship, there should be the element of give and take...
Steel will always remain steel and will not develop arms to embrace you when you are cold. Wooden floors will not shift to keep you company when you feel at a loss.
Cars will not drive you to the emergency if you are in dire need of medical help.

but then again, friends and lovers can turn against you...but the uncertainty of it all give life a rush...and dynamo...a type of high that keeps you on your toes because you don't know what to expect...it's worth living when all your senses are heightened to a certain ride, be it good or bad...as there is no right or wrong in living it anyway...there is just monotony and surprises... why live in peace when all the dead are peaceful? You don't want to live your life the way it would be when you hit the grave right? (ok im rambling)

I'm not against having little vanities...I myself am vain with phones...
But the person on the other line have more weight than the mobile gadget.
what makes MY really phone special? someone special calls me...

so when i said, rich men are boring...
i meant...they are so used to caressing inanimate objects,
they sometimes treat you as one.
They forget you have your own opinion and gets surprised when you voice them out.
They forget that you do not have buttons to push and that one has a memory that keeps count of their mistakes.
They forget that unlike cars, we do not live on batteries and only god knows our expiration dates.
They get so stiff, that a sudden change of plans throw them off balance.
They are so used to hearing their own voice
that it startles they to hear somebody in the crowd can talk.
They panic when life takes a dive,
thinking everything is breakable when the only fragile thing in the basket is their ego.
They get confused when schedule is not on time.
They start to hate surprises.
And they talk about inanimate objects
its existence is the main reason why the world is beautiful.

Makes you wonder why.
Maybe it's because of how they live their lives, they actually have none?

of course there are exceptions...
and this is but a bias opinion. Feel free to sue me.

Headaches and crazy thoughts

Looking at the screen, with my head pounding as if someone just smashed it to the wall, is not the easiest thing to do. Here I am, back from the grave, trying to get my other foot from the purgatory it's stuck in. Please take a moment to say "welcome back".

...My brain, as if eternally frozen is starting to hurt that I am tempted to get a rock, crack my head open, and stir it back to life with a stick.

It's during these times that I wonder why God made us like piggy ceramic coin banks. And like an eager little child, We shake our head, figure out what's inside, itches to get it opened...but once cracked...we become damaged and (almost) beyond repair.
Being like this seems to be a smart way to almost prevent one from acting on certain curiosity and impulses, like cracking your pounding head, for example, with something hard.

Can you imagine if we had the ability to take off each part and scratch it to satisfaction like the way we pick our noses?
The market would arguably be filled with absurd and odd looking containers and covers.
Aisles and aisles of pouches for eyeballs in different colors and styles, containers specifically for the ears, mouth, fingers and knee caps -- (eooow)...
and what about screws to put the detachable part in place?
how about double sided tape for the flesh?

Ahhh... Cadavers will be more expensive!
Gone are the cemetery days of burial and cremation.
For once a detachable part is gone and lost, one just have to replace it.
What a disaster it would be to walk out and go home only to find out that you've lost an arm along the way.
Like the way we lose earphones...once we do, we just have to get a new pair...correct?

Ahhh... and would this be the time for slaughterhouses to shine?
Instead of the greasy bloody warehouses we usually see, emerge a more sophisticated showroom and storage of cadavers and parts.
Where a/c and refrigeration must be of the highest class.
Hmmm....And a receiving area with flowers in colors and lights in yellowish hue to cause a warm effect for customers waiting in line to order a new appendage?

And gone are the days of cardboard slaughterhouses signages.
In its place will rise a sign in neon lights that says "Body and parts for sale!" --- or a better one "Bodies from Finland and Germany for sale!"...Nokia Users will go for this one nyahahah!
Do you think China can come up with a cheaper alternative? a semi-body part...maybe one shade lighter or darker...something that vibrates and with an lcd screen? Coolness hahah!
This one, ladies and gentlemen, is THE red light district because this is THE ultimate flesh business.

Interesting don't you think?
But what a disaster!
For someone as careless as I, it would be a very expensive way to live.
I mean an arm would cost a lot, I'd suppose, and if I lose an arm the way I lose my cellphones, I might as well just be dead...For the possibility to lose an arm means a possibility to lose a leg, a nipple, a finger, a toe...and what about my head! I certainly cannot function properly without it!
Being the picker that I am, I am sure I'd be toying and nitpicking at it until it becomes lose...and God knows what will happen if it rolls off!

So I guess God did us a favor in creating us as we are.
Vulnerable and in one piece--- without the choice of appendage exchanges upon will.
What was I thinking asking for lego body parts?!...oh wait...I wasn't thinking that's why I was asking for it...my head hurts remember?

Thank God for small miracles.

of Actors, Prostitutes, and Illusions.

A recent conversation about illusions and the people who conjure them filled my humble bunk this afternoon. Pillows squashed, blankets in disarray, a mouth pouted, and everybody involved was feeling the heat of the "argument".

A discussion on illusions created by actors and prostitutes, so intense that it made the popcorn pop...except that there is no popcorn around.

A good actor can get angry at will on stage even if he is at the prime of his life -- driving a fast car, with a beautiful girlfriend, and a chest of, not money, but gold nuggets to feed his ferocious appetite for adventure and excitement. Even if he is, at the moment,the happiest idiot there is...and mind you, this idiot need not be dumb - but that is beside the point.

But when the lights turn on, and as the curtains go up, on the polished wooden floor of the theater stage he poses, times his breathing, concentrates his aura, and lets out a roar, that only angry heathens with broken hearts can let out.

The audience, taken by surprise, their eyes, round in anticipation, hearts beating fast with excitement, fearing the worst, and curious like cats--- what will this actor do next? They are fastened to their seats, almost not breathing, and definitely not blinking so as to not miss anything that's going to happen.

and the prostitute?
no stage for them. but just the same... on the pavement, she poses,
times her breathing in a rhythm that summons up mock courage.
She effortlessly appears to create an aura that she will always be available...for the right offer, of course.

unlike the actors on stage, she has no screenwriters to polish her script, no make-up artist to blush her cheeks...but then again, her roles do not demand such extravagance.

For the right price, she can play the role of a doting, motherly girlfriend, a dominant vixen, and even a naive, schoolgirl virgin.

Both actors and prostitutes give life to the illusions of other people...
actors animate the writer's story, prostitutes work on the need of the clients' illusion to be "loved".

So yes, both are the same...but both are different too.

The actor's audience, expect to see a new world on stage, knowing at the back of the their mind, the the actor is not really his character.
They get amazed, they laugh, they cry, depending on the actor's talent.
They criticize bad actors according to their act and love the best ones upon their perfect delivery of their lines.
But actors do not closely interact with their audiences, in a way a prostitute does.
Actors make up the illusion of make-believe but there has always been a clear, though it may not be a strong line between them and those who watch.
The reviews of their acts are primarily centered on their act.
They also become actors to fulfill themselves, they become actors because they know they can move the audience, and if not, they do training to achieve this.

But prostitutes do not train to become good prostitutes...They just get used to it.
If they offend a client, they are bashed and treated shamelessly, insulted and embarrassed to the core of their being.
To the men who rent them by the hour, who come shamelessly with offers of money to lure them into seduction, they are not seen as actors on stage are.
They make a fantasy and fulfill the illusion of the client to his satisfaction, but their curtains do not fall down.
Actors who are named David, assume their real names at the end of their play...Prostitutes are seen prostitutes even if they are not on the pavement anymore.
Prostitutes moan for the pleasure of their clients in bed. Those moans may not be real, but those moments of being touched and entered and even "violated" are not fantasy per se. The clients subject them to real actions pretending that it is a play. After all, they paid the ticket to heaven.

Am I making sense?
The actors change characters and his illusions evolve to satisfy the audience, and after a great performance, to satisfy themselves.
On the other hand the prostitutes only have one for themselves...the illusion of freedom. That they can do whatever they want to the client to satisfy him as long as the price is right.

The actor's audience come to see what is in store for them.
The prostitute's clients come with their fantasy expecting it to become real for a few moments at a price they can afford.

The audience looks. The clients invade.
The audience anticipates. The prostitutes' clients aggressively take a step forward.
The audience do not know the roles and the lines. The clients dictate it.

Can you say they are of the same?
That they live an illusory life that is brittle, shallow and maybe somewhat superficial?
Does that make the actor's life shallow and brittle and the prostitute's meaningful?
----I don't think so.
Does that make the other better than the latter.
----I don't know.

Yes, they create illusions for themselves and for their audiences.
But aren't we all, in one way or another, become actors and whores at some point of our lives for various causes and reasons,
be it wrong or right? <---but that is beside the point, huh? And what's with the illusions? are they really "not real"? If it is a make-believe that someone can concoct, isn't the fact that it can be concocted, make it so much more a part of reality than not? <--- i know, out of topic. Anyway, The matter of differences is great and so are the similarities. Both play a role to satisfy, be it themselves or others.

Except that the first acts it, the other lives it.
The end...or maybe not.

i tried.

Bloodletting by DavaoBloggers in cooperation
with Red Cross was held today 8am.

Blood Donation.
Ugh.
I was scared but I tried it.
I passed the floating exam =)
It's where they prick your finger and squeeze the heck out of the teeny prick a droplet of blood into this mysterious glass that has a blue liquid in it.
If your blood droplet floats, it means you cannot donate.
If your blood sinks...you can.

Didn't know you have to have some qualifications to begin with...and mind you, they squeeze it three times. And three times, your blood must sink. If it doesn't, you are disqualified for NFA --> not following instruction (nyahah!). The instructions said "blood must not float".

Upon passing the first exam, they give you a paper.
You fill it up TRUTHFULLY.
It's the form you don't want your mom to see.
If you are unsure of what impact such questions may bring to your life. Do not touch the pen, and pretend to faint.

Why?
well, it has some very intrusive questions that you begin to double check if it is really a blood bank or the barracks...or worst, the purgatory.

The questions begin with "Do you feel well today?"
-- well, first question is just apt...the following questions, especially if you are a guilty one, will make you feel NOT WELL in the end of the questionnaire.

It will ask you if you had piercings -- yes the water is warming up...then it asks you if you have had any contact with anybody with hepatitis...then jaundice...then asks if you have AIDS. It doesn't stop there. Asks you if you are alcoholic...a drug addict...and if you have AIDS.
Asks you again if you have had any sexual activity...no? how about any homosexual activities? and ...uhmm...AIDs?

Just as you thought this AIDs thing is already finished...it tells you, making sure, that you do realize that even if you don't know you have AIDS and you turn out to have one, you can contaminate others... hmmmm.

---no worries, no threats at the end of the form...they are just making sure you are not a walking-talking-disease-bearing humanoid that has this evil plan of infecting everyone with HIV because you turn out to be positive.
No! will not allow anyone to use them as an instrument for revenge.
That would be awful.

Anyways, the form asked me questions and it tested my honesty... In the end, it rendered me a useless human being for blood donation. I was discriminated by a technicality...ehem... I will not disclose...be assured that it is nowhere near AIDs...haller!

even so...I got a bracelet! and as Chatee said... "I tried to be a blood donor...I tried to save lives".

as a blood donor, you will be given a red bracelet that says
"I am a blood donor and I save lives"

Kharla a.k.a. impostora...haha!