Same Fucking Difference

I saw a pretty mestiza yesterday in line at the cashier in one of the book stores. I made istyle and tried to get close to her and it was then that I saw what item she was paying for. And when did, I turned around and made haste to get as far away from her as possible. In that split second, desire had turned to an emotion akin to hate. Do you know what she had in her hand?

Dan Brown’s “Angels and Demons.”

I hate Dan Brown. I hate him because he’s reached a level of success which should only be reserved for fiction writers who at the very least can write a readable book. Like, say, my seven year old nephew. It’s one of the great injustices in this world that everyone who’s read his biggest seller “The Da Vinci Code” thinks it’s the best novel they’ve read in years. Some even say it’s the best they’ve ever read ever. (I even read a Friendster profile awhile back saying that the “The Da Vinci Code” changed his life because it made him “appreciate art.” Hey asshole, if you want to appreciate art go to a museum and see the genius of the human race manifested in oil paintings and marble sculptures. Don’t go reading a stupid pocket book) I think it’s a piece of shit. Yes, I’ve actually suffered through the book – it’s idiotic characters, hackneyed plot line, and predictable twist in the end. Yeah, yeah, yeah, I was able to guess halfway through the book that the fucking gimp’s actually the villain.

Don’t get me wrong though. The reason why I hate “The Da Vinci Code” is not because it reveals that the conservative Opus Dei is in league with the Papacy in their perpetual and conspiratorial objective to suppress the dissemination of the theory that Jesus and Mary Magdalene were lovers. What’s so wrong about that? Well, it highlights that Jesus was more human than divine with the added implication that he engaged in that most vile of man’s prurient acts: sex. With a partner, I mean. I hate the book because it’s such shallow pap but still it managed to be so popular that my own brother is reading it. I’ve always said that one more sign of the Apocalypse and that the world is coming to an end, is when my brother actually takes the time to read a book. I’m not kidding when I say that I’ve never seen him hold a reading material unless it had pictures of naked girls in it. Never—not even when he was in school. And so now it pisses me to no end that “The Da Vinci Code” was able to succeed where Ayn Rand’s “The Fountainhead,” J.D. Salinger’s “The Catcher in the Rye,” Ernest Hemingway’s “The Sun Also Rises,” and F. Scott Fitzgerald’s “The Great Gatsby” have failed miserably.

A friend of mine has been trying to get me to read “Angels and Demons” by saying that it’s better than “The Da Vinci Code.” That’s like saying that a bottle of Pepsi being rammed up your ass is better than a bottle of Coke. Same fucking difference.

Mystical Balls

Go to this site and be amazed!

http://www.mysticalball.com/

Well, until you figure out how the damn thing works. Honestly, I spent the better part of the day doing just that. I finally know how it's done. It's like this...oh, are you nuts? I'm not gonna tell you. Figure it out your own damn self.

Linen Stains

I was in Boracay over the weekend. I swear, each time I visit I’m finding it harder and harder to leave. That walk to the bangka last Sunday for the ride back to the airport in Caticlan was pure torture. It was doubly painful because the tide had gone up and I waded through water up to my crotch and my underwear got wet. Oops…that’s more information that you needed to know.

Anyways, I was getting ready for a night out last Saturday and I found this rather innocuous looking note posted on the top of the dresser in my room. Now, this is not a commentary on the writer’s syntax nor grammar. I just thought that it’s some kind of apocalyptic sign there was now a need to convey the message it contained.

Here is that note word for word:

“Henna tattoo is very trendy this season specially here in Boracay wherein you can get them done in many places just along the beach. The ink that is used for this tattoo is consists of heavy chemicals that could stain all the linens. There is no stain remover that could remove the ink from all types of linen.

Due to the increase of damage linens caused by the stain of henna tattoo ink, any linen that is damaged during your stay at the resort will be charge to your account.”


Ton-Ton Kamayan

Last Saturday, we went to Puka Beach for lunch. While waiting for our orders to be served, my friends and I hunted for souvenirs at the makeshift shops lining the road. I was fooling around with this conch shell that was on display when this old guy went up to me and we started talking.

His said his name was Bernard and that he owned a restaurant called Ton-Ton Kamayanan just further down the road. He was quite a glib and affable fellow – having mentioned at least three times that he was poor in money but rich in friends. He invited me to see his restaurant as it’s a little famous. He said he’s already had people from channel 2 come over and they sought him out for an interview. Right.

He started to mention that he liked singing Elvis Presley songs. My friend listening in had to make gatong by asking him to sing just a few songs right then and there. Mang Bernard was hesitant to do so and so I got the ball rolling with my mean Elvis Presley impression:

“Wise men say, ‘Only fools rush in…’”

That’s all that was needed for Mang Bernard to sing the whole goddamn song.

I tried to keep up with him for a duet but the crazy bastard would change the pitch and the tempo without any warning and I’d just fall along the way in silence.

When he got through the second chorus, we started clapping before turning to leave and go back to the restaurant but, no, the old fart wasn’t done yet:

“Like a river flow, surely leads to sea.
Some things are meant to be…”

He could have gone and gone where it not for Maria Ressa who came up to us and caught Mang Bernard’s attention. Yes, THE Maria Ressa. Apparently, she and her companions were guests of Mang Bernard for lunch and they all turned to go.

Mang Bernard gave me a wink and said we’ll continue our duet next time.

I said I’ll check out Ton-Ton Kamayan and maybe we could have a sing-a-thon there.

I was lying of course. The guy’s such a fucking ham.