Oh all right. We have resisted for many years, but we are finally won over. How can we dislike a tennis player who does not take himself too seriously and is world number one? However we are not naming him father or uncle to our cats, an honor reserved for Ivanisevic, Safin and Federer (And the stuffed toy leopard who has been our constant travel companion since 1997 is named Guga).
The Djoker is kind of a tranny. This is even more bizarre than that parody of the Shakira music video with Rafael Nadal in which he played Shakira.
There seems to be a scarcity in the number of straight males who ask you for advice so let me reverse this trend.
I am 27, currently between jobs, waiting for my certificate of registration in a career that involves the ill, the dying, and the walking dead. As far as I can remember I have never ever been close to getting into a relationship. My high school and early college years are accounted for, I was into Star Trek (particularly Deep Space Nine), Douglas Adams, and Dungeons & Dragons (having been the DM of a cabal in Diliman). I know how girl-repellent these can be. And, no, no matter how hard cosplaying girls pretend to be geeks, there is just something odd about their brand of fanaticism. It is like staring at the Uncanny Valley, there is just something off. As for those female true believers, all of the ones I have met are taken.
Of course, the other thing that probably marked me as someone to be avoided when it comes to intimacy was my foolish habit of writing “poems” to girls I am attracted to. Those were painfully misguided years. I have done enough penance.
The closest I can say I ever got to having a girlfriend was during the closing days of my undergraduate years. At the time I met someone in an elective class who had the same taste in books and, generally, the same interests. In the few months or so that we knew each other, we had a friendship that can only be described as tempestuous. We would be revealing secrets one day, then the next day completely ignoring and not talking to each other and then back to talking. It was a cycle. This went on for months after graduation when our paths diverged as I continued studying while she started working. Then we had a huge fight. I will be honest enough and confess that I started it because I was exhausted with my efforts at trying to chase her when it was clear in her head that she could never see me as more than a friend.
We have reconciled since then, but as with such reconciliations, things could never go back to the way they once were. During the process of catching up, I discovered that the whole time she and I were talking about leo@fergusrules.com, acceptable breaks in reality, and friendship in the age of Friendster (this was half a decade ago) she had been seeing men who can only be described as bastards, assholes, and deadbeats, whose career plans were either non-existent or were limited to whatever handouts their parents gave them. The worst part of my rejection: finding out that she had chosen someone who had a history of violence against his girlfriend over me.
My story does not end there. I am currently infatuated with a former colleague, which I find a bit tiresome because years earlier when I had obliquely admitted I had feelings for her, she struck me down by telling me straight out via text message that she was not interested. In spite of this, I never really lost my attraction.
It is traditional that in this kind of letter one has to point out how normal or even superior the letter-writer is to the general population in order to make the lack of significant other a total mystery. So I will just state plainly that I bathe twice a day, brush my teeth regularly, have no facial deformities, and, in spite of being temporarily jobless, I consider myself a responsible person and I do my job well.
I point this out because in my line of work I’ve met women who have incurred physical injuries from assaults by other women after some Casanova in their barangay became reckless in his two-timing; women who have had children (averaging at about 4) with men who were already married; and women who swallowed 20 tablets of acetaminophen or ingested warfarin over men who did not love them back.
So this is where I not only ask the question why I do not have a girlfriend, I also ask why are there so many deadbeats, men without any ambition or future to speak, of who have women jumping all over them.
The usual answer to the first question does not apply. I am and always will have eyes only for women. And, no, this question does not bother me enough to cause me distress, at least not anymore. I would just like to have your input regarding these mysteries.
Sincerely,
27 and (Still) Single Since Birth
Jane Campion’s The Piano: Good girl Holly Hunter falls for (literally) dirty bad boy Harvey Keitel, gets fingers chopped off by stern boring husband Sam Neill.
What the audience sounded like at a screening of Zombadings 1: Patayin Sa Shokot Si Remington.
Remember: August 31 is National Zomba Day! Bring all your friends to the cinema to see Zombadings. As one enthusiastic viewer said, Magkaka-abs ka sa kakatawa.
Crazy, Stupid Love is directed by Glen Ficarra and John Requa, who made I Love You, Philip Morris. It is charming entertainment, though it tries too hard to be quirky. Granted, if someone can make you believe that he would jump out of a (slowly) moving car in order to avoid hearing his wife’s confession of infidelity, that is Steve Carell (who also produced the movie). The guilty wife is played by Julianne Moore, who can do everything (including form her mouth into a perfect square while freaking out at the drugstore in Magnolia) but light and fluffy (We didn’t believe her in 30 Rock either). Even if we totally sympathize with her decision to have an affair with Kevin Bacon’s character, since this means she has a pulse, plus certain scenes in Wild Things are burned into our retinas. The problem with Kevin Bacon’s character is that not only is he played by Kevin Bacon, but he’s actually a good guy. That would cause a serious imbalance in the universe.
Ryan Gosling’s ears are too small and his shoulders are too narrow. Steve Carell’s nose is too big. That said, we would not reject either of them.
So poor cuckolded Cal (Steve Carell) leaves his wife and tries to get a social life, but he’s so inept that he elicits the pity of Jacob the world’s greatest pick-up artist. We do not doubt that Jacob can seduce a woman at fifty paces because we have eyes to see that he is Ryan Gosling. What we find suspect is the idea that Jacob, whose philosophy of life is based on that guy manual The Game, would adopt this pitiful middle-aged man in baggy clothes and tutor him in the ways of shopping, grooming, and getting the girl. But if we do not buy this concept there would be no movie. (We saw it with Scooter and Kermit whose logic kills movies. Kermit: “If the old man in The Da Vinci Code wanted their big secret to stay secret, he should’ve just died instead of making all those puzzles. Stupid.”)
Emma Stone is so terrific that the only time she fumbled in Easy A was when she referred to her “total lack of allure”. It is right that this woman be paired with Ryan Gosling.
Speaking of “stupid” you know what would’ve been perfect for this movie’s soundtrack? That Pinoy rap where they sample Barbra Streisand (“Love soft as an easy chair—”) and yell “Stupid!” after every line. Anyway Jacob turns Cal into a successful pick-up artist by making him buy clothes that fit properly (Listen to Jacob, guys in oversized shirts and baggy jeans, this is real wisdom), getting him the right haircut (Listen!) and teaching him the “right” lines and moves. These lines are so obviously phony that they don’t matter, it’s all in the delivery and the fact that the delivery boy is Ryan Gosling. The only human who does not fall for Jacob’s technique is Hannah (Emma Stone). That’s how we know that he will fall in love with her.
DYKSWP (Did you know she was Pinoy) alert: Liza Lapira plays Hannah’s best friend.
There are several plot strands, one involving Marisa Tomei who takes off with the movie, and as Crazy, Stupid Love moves past the second hour the filmmakers realize that they have to end it somehow. So the strands are tied together in the most contrived, unconvincing way possible, and we mean Star Cinema-type ending though less insulting to human intelligence. We still enjoyed the movie though.
We don’t think the mayors will disapprove. Kerbie Zamora and Martin Escudero don’t have well-developed pecs or abs. Or skimpy briefs, but their crotches are covered by the banner. Or giant billboards, as the producers don’t have the budget for them. Adopt this movie! Repost this photo, please.
Mangyari po lamang na sumugod sa pinakamalapit na sinehan sa August 31 at manood ng Zombadings 1: Patayin sa Shokot si Remington, ang pelikulang para sa buong Zombayanan.
Because everybody is a zombody.
Please repost to death.
* * * * *
1. In Zombadings 1: Patayin Sa Shokot Si Remington (Scare Remington to Death) a little boy has the obnoxious habit of pointing at men and yelling, “Bakla!” (Gay!)
1.1. The objects of his attention are males who “look gay”, meaning they do not conform to the idea of “straight” manhood that he picked up from his male role model, his father. Remington’s dad is a bit of a bum, to tell the truth—he hangs around the family panciteria all day (he’s the “manager”), drinks a lot, dresses sloppily, doesn’t bother with personal grooming, and thinks he automatically deserves respect because he’s “a man”…
Eyeglasses by Maria Nella Sarabia, O.D.
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