el niño ii

Some billboards are meant to cause heavy traffic, not to mention panting spells.


el niño

It’s official. Her sweet Kashieca days are over.


According to this site, the next Natalie Portman movie will be called Pride and Prejudice and Zombies.

None of the recent movies had made me miss the theaters that much, but this one I gotta see. The title alone begs for it. I wonder if they’re selling advance tickets . . .

kiss the girl

On one hand you wonder what they’ll not do to get the public’s attention; on the other you’re thankful they’re not posing themselves as friends of the environment and bringing kasoy seedlings to media events. A vice presidential aspirant did that last week, and I nearly lost my lunch.

Meanwhile, five young dingbats from Long Beach, California, were arrested for groping.

So much for Sunday evening weirdness.


Charmaine and I made a deal the other night: By our 3rd wedding anniversary we should be looking like each other’s “celebrity crush.” Knowing that even the famed wizards at the Belo Medical Group can’t turn us into Megan Fox and Johnny Depp lookalikes – or even if they can, it will cost us a fortune – we decided to be more realistic.

For her to physically emulate on or before December 16, I chose Aiko Climaco of the ASF Dancers. I picked her for the local flavor and also for the fact that I’m a sucker for tall, leggy chicks who can dance. Watching Aiko gyrate to Lady Gaga’s “Poker Face” in Wowowee always makes me forget all my problems.

For me she picked Alice in Chains’ fallen vocalist, Layne Staley, particularly his look during his brief stint with Mad Season. (This actually surprised me, for I was under the impression that her man in Alice in Chains is Jerry Cantrell, the guitarist.)

layne staley

Fair enough, I thought. Dark glasses, goatee, a junkie’s physique – I can go through life looking like that. My shoulder-length hair has to go, though, but so what? I was semi-bald in second year college, no thanks to ROTC, and was comfortable with it.

cardboard love

risa santos

A Radiohead song playing in my head:  “She looks like the real thing/ She tastes like the real thing…”



Saw How to Lose Friends and Alienate People over the weekend and concluded that Megan Fox is the ultimate babe. Clothe her in rags like in Transformers, she’s a forest fire. Dress her in evening gown, she becomes royalty.

Dress her in evening gown and make her jump into a pool, I collapse from sheer lust.

Also saw Courage Under Fire and Almost Famous, which I think is one of the best rock n’ roll movies ever made, probably up there with School of Rock. (Who could forget Jack Black’s incendiary speech about how rock n’ roll is all about “sticking it to The Man”?)

Indeed: movies. And guitar practice and The Datsuns and Kerouac’s Lonesome Traveler. That’s how I spent the Lenten Break. Now it’s back to the salt mines and routines and whole groggy midnights of spacing out.

Stick it to The Man, why not? Or better yet, stick it to Megan Fox. She left me gasping for more.

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