Not a porn blog and not at all controversial, if I can help it.
I realized that though the Philippines’ motel business is booming and we get seven new HIV cases a day as well as three babies per minute, no one really talks about sex unless they want to fight about it. Recently, however, I found that people were consulting me left and right about their down-theres. When the hullaballoo expanded onto Tumblr, I figured I’d carve it its own niche.
So that’s what this here blog is for. Feel free to ask about the morning-after pill, the RH Bill, how to set up a threesome, how to deal with your Catholic guilt, and the best material with which to wipe up the results of your furious masturbation sessions.
Things I’ll be hazy about: technique, money, and myself. Because these are the things I don’t have much of a grip on.
Right now I’m accepting your queries about love and sex (though mostly about sex, I hope) in the Ass Box, which I labeled as such because it’s funny.
You know what else is funny? Three babies per minute! Ridic!
Filipino drunks now have a new poster boy/patron saint in movie idol and paracetamol shill John Lloyd Cruz, who supposedly sent nasty text messages to Ruffa Gutierrez but actually:
Rejoice, Filipino men, everywhere. At last you can now rightfully claim that you are just like John Lloyd Cruz, if at least in terms of alcohol consumption.
Ingat!
My cousin’s girlfriend K says that she and her posse once spotted John Lloyd and Shaina hanging out at the table behind them in a swanky bar. Later in the night, when K and her chickas were taking photos of themselves, John Lloyd swaggered over and demanded they stop photographing him, and forced K and her friends to delete the photos from their camera. Which did not feature him at all.
Shaina apologized on behalf of her drunken beau. “Pasensya na,” she allegedly said, “nakainom.” Yun lang.
And for the record, I fucking love John Lloyd Cruz.
e.tumblr.com/post/11996019486/the-exclamation-comma-just-because-theweekmagazine:
The Exclamation Comma. “Just because you’re excited about something doesn’t mean you have to end the sentence.”
That’s true.
I want this to be mine.
Yes! Again! A plan for another tattoo, but already my ampersand, already my interrobang, where will this go.
Most times, it’s just a lot easier not to let the world know what’s wrong.
Highlight of my night last night was watching Ogie Alcasid say that the future of OPM is with independent artists. And I also like the fact that he admitted that no one in the “mainstream” scene likes writing new songs so they just record covers from songs that are not even a year old.
I mean, why can’t these fuckers write songs? I sat down with Francis last night and we smoked a few bowls and we wrote a fucking song. I mean, it’s that easy. Oh, but who gives a shit about writing songs when doing an acoustic cover a Justin Bieber song is a guaranteed sell.
And you bitches say that OPM is dying.
Goodbye, San Miguel Pale Pilsen bottle of our memories.
You have gone the way of the Happy Horse, banished from bars, existing only in stories that drunks swear are true.
It was inevitable, I guess. Your brown squatness just didn’t have the sleek, up-market appeal of your younger siblings SanMig Light, Super Dry, and Strong Ice.
Your sister, Cerveza Negra, once prescribed as a tonic for pregnant women, is also making a resurgence in some circles. Young, hip drinkers swear to her smoothness and sophistication. Finally out of the kitchen, that Cerveza Negra. Free at last, year of jubilee!
But not you, Pale Pilsen. You were great stuff to bring to the beach in the 1980s, and a mainstay in Pinoy action flicks as both plot element and weapon, but you can’t rest on your laurels forever.
You have always had street cred, but it was not High Street Cred, and to be honest, your brothers and sisters were a bit embarrassed by you.
-Trishia Palconit Biography by @thejomarkrebs.
I’m thinking of what Sarah said, that love is watching someone die… so who’s gonna watch you die?
I’ve been homesick for countries I’ve never been, and longed to be where I couldn’t be.