My Weekend... Bow

As promised, I'll be telling you guys what happened with my weekend.  See here, my two friends from high school, Betty and Wilma (their real names), kinda coaxed me to watch the new Vilma Santos flick, "In My Life" because they thought that I could prolly relate to the movie. The story is about a Filipina mother who decides to go to New York to live with her Filipino gay son who is currently dating a Filipino gay illegal immigrant and how the three yadi yadi and life yadi yada and the tribulations of illegal immigrants in the US yadi yada yadi plus the issues of parenting and gayness yadi yada yadi yada true love in time of prostate cancer yadi yada. The movie sucked ass (and not in a good way mind you). It wasn't that I was hoping for a full frontal nudity from both of the actors or even from Vilma Santos (although a full frontal from Vilma woulda been nice), but the movie was just too commercial that it didn't even pretend to be a proper film.  Don't get me wrong,  I'm okay with gay themed films, I'm gay after all.  I'm just way too tired of films purporting to be gay because of the following reasons:

1. that there are gay characters in the movie.
2. that these gay characters would either be a gogo boy, a hustler, a drug addict, a psycho or a priest.
3. that these gay characters would have a full frontal in the movie or...
4. that these gay characters would suck faces in the movie like "normal" people would suck faces
5. that these one or two or all the gay characters would die at the end of the film
6. that these gay characters are not really gay but they're doing it because a gay role does boost ones market value in the business

OK. Just to get things straight (nyahahaha), I don't mind the nudity.  I'm comfortable with nudity.  But it seems that there is a current trend in Philippine Independent Cinema that an indie gay film would always involve nudity in all scenes.  I've seen some films wherein I was absolutely sure that the frontal nudity, oral and anal sex was used because they didn't have any idea what to do with the scene.  Like, OK, there's still more film before that gogo dancer character OD's and dies, so why don't we have a blowjob scene between the breakfast table scene and the dinner table scene and an anal sex scene between the morning that he wakes up scene and the night that he realizes that he was the son of his regular John scene? There we have it! Voila! Gay film 101.  I'm not being a hypocrite.  I like those scenes alright, but they have just become waaaaay too trite for my taste.  ITS ALL OVER GAY INDEPENDENT CINEMA?!?!?! CAN'T WE THINK OF SOMETHING ELSE? I'm sure you guys can Google something up.  The funny thing is, we {me included} know that this movie is gonna suck but we still wanna watch it because this up and coming model something something is showing his dick or getting blown by someone. Let's lay low on the dick show a little and focus more on developing the plot.  Some of these films that I've seen are even story worthy but the problem is its way too underdeveloped. I mean dudes, if yer just gonna fill up a scene with dicks and asses then I've already got  BADPUPPY and SEANCODY and BILATINMEN and BROKESTRAIGHTBOYS and BAITBUS {OK I'M WRITING WAAAAY TOO MANY PORN SITES NOW} for that.

"In My Life" sucked ass for two reasons:

  

One, the title sucked.  I think the executives just thought of a title that their singer baby could sing in the whooooooole goddamned movie.  The soundtrack sucked.  It was all midi.  An independent film could've done better in the soundtrack department.  Two, the plot was trite and waaaay too predictable.  It's like, haven't I've watched this before in the Hallmark Channel?  I paid 160 pesos for this? To see John Lloyd and Lucky Me brush lips for .5 nanoseconds?  OK I didn't pay, Wilma did. I did like the way Vilma Santos acted.  I love it when she acts her age for a change.  Although there was a lotta shouting which gave me a headache.  

Here's a thought.  Why can't we make Filipino gay films...

• wherein there are no gay characters in the movie?  {is it even possible.  YES, I think it is. Eversince Moulin Rouge, I think anything is possible}
• wherein nobody would die of AIDS, cancer, accident, natural calamity or sheer boredom
• wherein the characters are actual people NOT commercial model beef cakes
• wherein the characters are actually gay? 
• wherein the plot is not copied from another gay film?
• wherein the title didn't come from a song?

Honestly my gay brothers and sisters in the film industry, we could really do much better.  Say that Maximo Oliveros movie about the blossoming of a 12 year old gay kid growing up in the slums of Manila, I liked it.  Sure somebody died in the end but it had all the right elements.  It had the right mix of comedy and drama and struggle.  AND THERE WASN'T ANY SHOUTING OR NUDITY INVOLVED.  

Nuff of that already.

The highlight of the night was not the movie.  Actually there was two.  

First was the chicken that I ate in Don Henrico's. It was AWE-SUUUUUUUM. If you ever eat at Don Henrico's in Manila look for the Captain Crunch Something something Chicken. I think I ate about 10 or something.  Yum.

Second was because of what happened after the movie.  See, my friend Betty loves and jizzes over John Lloyd Cruz although I don't know why but she just adores him.  He's not a bad actor by the way.  Anyways, I was telling her throughout the entire film that John Lloyd looked like one of our classmates back in high school, Paul {not his real name}.  You see, Paul here, is supposedly a closet case.  Now I don't care if somebody's a closet case because I was once in there myself.  Whatever floats yer boat, I always say. It's your business to be in the closet because maybe you have an ample amount of closet space or maybe you're closet value has gone up two points and it's worth a timeshare.  Good for you!  But it infuriates me when some people in the closet mind OTHER PEOPLE'S CLOSETS {straight or gay}. You see, Paul has an attitude.  He likes to OUT people who are not in the room. Like one of my good friends in high school who got pregnant early. She's an intelligent and independent woman who just happened to get pregnant before she got hitched.  We had sort of a highschool reunion in one of our classmate's house 5 years after our graduation.  During that get together, he started talking about her being pregnant and all like it was something vile and to be despised at. He was talking as if he was standing on top of Mt. Fuji or something. Then there was another recent incident wherein he said to a group of our former classmates that another former classmate in high school is gay. The person in question was not in the room {of course}. He delivered the "news" in such a way to illicit a booming reaction from our male highschool friends who reacted like this:

"LIKE WHOAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA MC SCRUNGY IS GAY?!?!?! WOHOHOHOHO. WHODATHUNK DUDE?!?!"

then they went on drinking their beers and pissing in the wind and shit.  

I'm glad I wasn't there at that time or I could've said an expletive or two {maybe three}.

OK.  So it appears that I don't like Paul.  OK I don't like him.  Well so does Betty and Wilma.  So while we were watching the suckfest movie that was IN MY FRIGGEN LIFE, I kept commenting to Betty how John Lloyd looked like Paul and like a true John Lloyd fan, she kept defending his honor.  So yeah, the banter went on the entire movie until the movie finally FINALLY ENDED WITH SARAH GERONIMO SINGING IN MY FRIGGEN LIFE! Credits.  Lights on.  AND LO AND FUCKING BEHOLD WHO DO I SEE ON OUR SAME ROW ACROSS THE OTHER AISLE!?!?!??!?!?!?

ASHTON FUCKING KUTCHER!

ANDERSON FUCKING COOPER!

WALTER FUCKING CRONKITE OH HE'S DEAD

KANYE FUCKING WEST WHO CARES!

BARBARA FUCKING WALTERS YESSS BUT NOT REALLY!

Paul! 

Fucking Paul. 

And not only fucking Paul! 

Fucking Paul with a fucking guy!

THE UNIVERSE RULES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Little old humble me was not only flabbergasted but in times like these when the Universe decides to reveal one of her little secrets to lowly persons like me, what does one do?

I PANICKED GODDAMNIT!

Here's what I said on verbatim

"Paul?

..... Paul?????.....

PAUUL!!!!!!"

Mind you, I did all this with my right pointy finger pointed at him.  I think I pointed at him three times like with every name there was a point. 

 "Paul? (point).... 
Paul???? (point) 
PAUUL!!!!!! (point point) 

OK. It was four.

I should've called him Blanche at that time because he was as pale as a mayonnaise when he saw not one, not two, but three of his former high school classmates watching the same  gay film that sucked ass, in the same movie theater, and seated in the same row with him and his "companion". Now Betty and Wilma were a bit slow on the uptake and thought I was still joking. But when they looked at the direction where I was looking they were both......

gleeful.  

If you would've seen the look on their faces it was like they were in  a MasterCard commercial. 

Whereas I, was in total panic.  You see, I was still so overwhelmed that the Universe had decided to bless me with glad tidings on that night that I didn't know what to do!  I hate this about myself.  Fuck I screwed it up. Well, said Wilma and Betty.  I think I did really.  Wilma was about to throw Paul the bone laced with cyanide while Betty was about to cheer her on {they were both friends of the preggy girl that Paul decided to broadcast to our friends years back} when I kept talking and talking and talking.  Honestly I wanted to laugh like laugh that sinister laugh that would ring throughout the walls of that cinema so I could vindicate all of Paul's victims of his Kanyeistic acts back in high school and after but I couldn't because I might die of so much rapture and bliss and as much as I would have wanted to, I couldn't because I still had to write my Great American Novel which is about a Gogo Boy from the Bronx who decides to leave his night job to help poor people in some Third World Country so he could find meaning in his life and thus end up finding the love of his life who happened to be his father in two previous lives. (How do you like them apples?!?!? Huh huh!)  So I kept talking and babbling just so I wouldn't laugh.   

Fuck me hard till Tuesday.   

I screwed it.  

I still hate myself for screwing it. 

Wilma and Betty made that known to me a number of times during the night and they decided to play a practical joke on me by changing one of my contact names on my cell {I think it was Wima's} to Paul's name.  I still hate them for doing that.  

Still, I had fun that night.  See, the funnest part was after Wilma and I got out of the cinema.  We were waiting for Betty who was in the ladies room because of the impending flood that was about to come gushing out between her legs.  As we were waiting outside, Paul and his companion were coming out {no pun intended}.  See, Paul took his sweet time to leave the cinema thinking that the three of us have already left.  What he didn't know was that Betty drank a whole gallon of iced tea at Don Henrico's and she just held the floodgates during the movie because of John Lloyd fucking Cruz.  So Paul and his companion were there.  He definitely saw Wilma and me. Well I waved to make sure that he saw us.  In a panic, Paul and his companion didn't know whether to turn left or right thus they ended up bumping each other then turning right before giving the two of us a quick wave goodbye. 

So that was my night with my two highschool friends, and with the highschool classmate that we didn't like and with the Universe telling us that life is really worth living sometimes.   And by the way, Paul doesn't in any way look like John Lloyd Cruz.

I gotta tell you something...

A funny video by ILGA on gay adoption. Talk about coming in.

Anita Bryant isdachu?

Nooooo, don't go blaming Donald Trump for this hoopla {he is corporate evil by default}, nor the that right wing coalition for the preservation of the species, nope. Not even that Prejean girl who can smell her 15 minutes from a mile away. Thank PEREZ, people. Yep. He just successfully helped catapult this woman and her so called cause to greater heights. I'm pretty sure that Carrie will be sending Perez a Hallmark card {with a man and a woman on the cover}.

Visit msnbc.com for Breaking News, World News, and News about the Economy

Prop 8 the Musical

"Prop 8 - The Musical" starring Jack Black, John C. Reilly, and many more... from Jack Black

Not really a fan of marriages of ANY kind. Personally, I think civil unions or domestic partnerships - gay or straight  - are the way to go when it comes to government involving itself in private affairs.  Let  the churches and their relevant religions have their marriage AND keep it.

Protect Marriage, Protect Children, Prohibit Divorce - watch more funny videos

Summa has cometh! Forrest Gumping my Ass. Running Tunes.

Ahhhhh yes it has cummeth, and jizzeth it has a plenty. Warm days in Beijing make me all tingly in me boxers. I'm finally wearing shorts and flipflops at work. Gawd I love my flip flops. I just feel so liberated baring my dirty toenails for all the world to see {which reminds me - clean thy toenails}. Summer in Beijing became official in my book when the hotel maid gave me back the remote control for my air conditioner. I came back from work and there she was, the housekeeping attendant in all her housekeeping glory, holding the air conditioner remote control with a smile on her face. It's like I was receiving an award or something. I almost cried mind you. Not that I am crazy about air conditioning {although Its turned right now}, its just that I love summer. I adore it. The sun. The heat. The flip flops. Cold drinks. The beach. Scantily clad men. Speedos. Pina Coladas. Thinking about it just makes me want to jizz tenfold. Summer makes me wanna wear flipflops and it makes me want to listen to summery tunes and shit. I could go to work skipping like a bunny rabbit. Which I did this morning. Truly. Well, nobody was looking. And besides I was listening to a Mudvayne song and I felt like skipping.

I've been running a lot lately. Like 5 times a week on average. I wanted to join a marathon but it required a joining fee {like hell no!}. Like, so what if I can't join the Great Wall Kiddie Marathon. I can run by myself, thank you. I mean, Forrest Gump didn't join a friggen marathon and yet he achieved god-like status in the runners' world, huh! So yeah, I like running. Its sorta like becoming my zen. I never knew what ''second wind'' meant until I took up running. It feels so good. Its not like having sex. Well, its somewhat close to having sex but the thrill is a bit different. There's this rush, this adrenaline that you feel coursing through your veins that pushes you to take one more step even if you know that your body is almost about to give up.Its like yer balls are on fire in a good way. And it feels so good. There is no other way to put it. It just feels good for me.

I'm not saying that I've reached Nirvana or anything for that matter. I'm too shallow for that, I think; or rather I am not yet prepared for something like that. For some people however, running is a spiritual experience. The horizon, the point where the sky and the earth meet, is the juice that drives the runner to be kinetic. Its like a drug for some. She is like this expensive whore that you cannot have because you're short of a few hundred bucks. The runner is the John. She teases the John. The John keeps advancing towards the her, hoping she would give in. But she doesn't. She's unmoved. She doesn't ignore the John and she doesn't give in either. She is unattainable. She's Communism. She's Nirvana and Heaven. She's the Eternal Supermodel and the Porn Goddess Fantastic. She exists solely for the magnanimity of the earth and the sky. And yes, she is beautiful. Although the runner knows that he shall never have her, he persists still and moves forward for he is completely enamored by the idea of having her, this unattainable whore. And that very idea is his salvation. His Rapture. So he moves forward.

Whoa.
Dude that was kinda deep.
And I wasn't even smoking.
I think its the noodles I ate this lunchtime.

Bleh! Like I told you, I am not THAT spiritual yet. Yeah, sometimes I do get the tingly feeling I'm-one-with-nature-shit whenever I run, but only when I put on my nature-sport deodorant I-dunno-whatsitsname. It smells good. In fact it doesn't even smell like ''mother nature''. I like the smell though. Every so often whenever I'm running, I am tempted to get a wiff of my pits especially around the time when I'm starting to pick up my pace and I'm already breaking sweat. The smell of sweat and that deodorant just makes me want to jizz the pavement something awful. DON'T WORRY, I don't smell my pits in public - only when no one's looking. I'm sure there are laws against smelling yer pits in public and I seriously don't want to go to prison not unless I am inmates with Johnny Longbow, Mario Cojones, Bone St. James and the dude from Power Rangers.

It's nothing spiritual for me, running. It's more primal, I guess. I love the fact that I am sweating and forrest gumping my ass all over town and smelling like ''mother nature'' minus the cow manure and decaying flesh of dead animals. And the music. Duuuuuude the music is awesome when yer running. Its like it becomes better. Like any music becomes better when yer running. Even Celine Dion with all her screeching belts and nyaaaaahs and oooohs and waaaaaaahs becomes Celine Dioner. Truly. Music and running are like peanut butter and jelly.


Here are some of the music that I listen to right now whenever I run.

1. Run Barbie Run - Eraserheads {Awesome song! a good way to start my running}
2. At Last - Celine Dion Version {I tell you, it's Celine Dioner}
3. Anything from Ella Fitzgerald's Cole Porter Songbook Album
4. Anything from Mudvayne
5. Living on a Prayer - Bon Jovi
6. I'm Waiting for My Man - Velvet Underground
7. Anything from Jimi Hendrix's Electric Ladyland Album
8. Anything from Eels Daisies in the Galaxy Album
9. Green Day's St. Jimmy {Saaaaaaaaaint Jimeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!}
10. Anything from the Ataris
11. Dean Gray's American Edit {mashup}
12. The Beastie Boys {Body Movin! is on top of my list}
13. Anything from Erykah Badu
14. Jump - Pointer Sisters {fuck you I like it}
15. Symphony No. 9 - Beethoven the Georg Solti Version {its like I'm running in the Olympics}
16. Bat Out of Hell - Meatloaf {nobody sings it better than Meatloaf, and yeah, his titties are nice too}
17. Anything from the Foo Fighters
18. 100 Years - Five for Fighting {I feel like I'm in a Dawson's Crack set whenever I'm playing this Song}
19. Soukura - Ali Farka Toure {this song is always, like always in my playlist}
20. Hine Ani Ba - Hadag Nachash
21. Anything from Panic at the Disco!
22. Red Hot Chilli Peppers' Stadium Arcadium
23. Anything from Asher Roth
24. Anything from Third Eye Blind
25. Lithium - Nirvana
26. Anything from Jack Johnson
27. Brown Eyed Handsome Man - Nina Simone
28. Take Me to the Water - Nina Simone
29. Ain't Got No - Nina Simone & Groove Finder Mix
30. Anything from the Kaiser Cheifs
31. Anything from Want One and Want Two by Rufus Wainright
32. Ray of Light - Madonna
33. I Like It, I Love It - Tim McGraw {fuck you I love country}
34. Bob Dylan's Hey Mr. Tambourine Man and Talking New York
35. Five Year's Time - Noah and the Whale
36. Recycled Air - Postal Service
37. Mr. Blue Sky - The Delgados
    

Aight. Omar's gotta bounce. I need to put on my deodorant me running duds. Daddy's gotta run.

Spling. Trains. Dalian. Samuel L Jackson's Schlong and some other things.

April 19
Friday
2 pm Beijing Time

TRAINS

I am comfortably seated on a hard seat en route to the coastal city of Dalian. I'm traveling with one of my Chinese buddies, Qiu Min and we're going to Dalian to see our friend Dalton, who currently works there. Two hours ago, I was sitting by the exit window beside the trash bag, while being ashed by passenger smokers {couldn't blame them because Qiu Min and I were at the smoking section of the train which was also the trash section which is also the exit way. Meh}. It was a good thing that me and my Chinese friend were able to find an empty seat during the last stop, or else we would be spending the next eight hours sitting beside cigarette butts, ashes, and the trash bag, oh yeah, not to mention spit {Somebody spat like half a foot away from me two hours ago and I was thankful enough that it didn't ricochet in my direction}

SPLING

Didn't I mention it was spring already? Aaaaahh spling. Just saying it makes me get a boner. My shitsville of a city is so beautiful during springtime. It becomes some place else, almost surreal. Almost like one of the scenes in Kurosawa's Dreams. Greens, blossoms, warm weather, skirts, shirtless dudes. Priceless. People in these areas, both expat and local, start to shed off their winter duds come spring time. You get to see more skin and they start to become more pleasant in your eyes. Even I look more pleasant in springtime methinks.

RUNNING

I've been running lately. It's warm, so I run. Speaking of running, I have this recurring dream that I am running naked in some rice field or wheat field or corn field or something. Weird. It's hardly erotic I think. I mean, imagine yerself, running in your birthday duds with all that flora and fauna getting in contact with yer lil Omar. Talk about chafing yer balls.

RICE FIELD

My train is passing a rice field now. It's one big rice field. I remember the time when I was 17 and I was in the middle of a rice field and under a mango tree . Damn, I was a tweener and horny.

INSTANT NOODLES

I haven't eaten instant noodles/two minute noodles/fanbianmian in months. I only ate some on the train. Maaaaaaaaan it's so good. Thank God for the late Momofuku Ando {the dude who invented instant noodles and I have an entry about him}and for MSG! Mr. Ando, you da man!

DALIAN
12 hours, 3 different kinds of seafood and two and a half cups of instant noodles and a can of beer later...

I just came out fresh from the shower feeling really bloated after eating all that seafood and ramen noodles and I am almost ready for bed. I am billeted in this nice hotel/apartelle room with Qiu Min and Dalton, our host. The hotel {I forgot the name} is somewhat of an apartelle and some people actually time share it or something. Dalton tells Qiu Min and I that his family has a VIP card so we get some discount. He also told us that he heard some moans here and there when he checked our room before he fetched us at the train station. The three of us think that this hotel is a place where good things happen outside of marriage. Sweet.

Our room is sort of like a studio place with two beds, a kitchenette, a shower and toilet, fridge, microwave, mini washer, cable and airconditioning. Pretty nice, like a bachelor's pad. No internet which is a bummer. I still need to do some work and I asked my Chinese friend Dalton if I could get a modem or maybe I could just go to a cafe. He said, “We'll see.” I hope he does see because my boss is gonna kill me.

SAMUEL L. JACKSON'S SHLONG

A while ago, during dinner and cigarette break, Dalton, Qiu Min, and I were watching some cop movie that starred Kevin Spacey and Samuel L. Jackson. Then Qiu Min asked me if I know or have any black friends. I told them yes. Then Dalton asked me if black guys have big dicks. I was like, erm I really dunno dudes. I was tempted to tell them that if I ever do sleep with one I'd be sure to tell them if this popular belief in among Chinese about black men having big shlongs is true. The two were silent and stared back at the tv screen while the movie focused on the wounded Samuel L. Jackson lying on a stretcher in an ambulance while the camera focuses on his police badge which was conveniently placed o

n his crotch. Well, his left pant leg or whatever.

FLIP FLOPS
8 hours later...

I woke up this morning with this odd sensation that I am in somebody else's bed. I am. I open my eyes and stretched in bed and scratched my nuts. I got off of bed and went to the terrace and a view of Dalian greets me. Nice weather. Still a bit chilly but the weather report says that it was gonna be sunny today so I'm optimistic. I showered and debated if I was gonna wear shorts and flip flops. Dalton and Qiu Min found it funny that I should wear shorts and flip flops. The hell should I know that it was still gonna be cold in Dalian during this time of year. I mean, I live further up north and it was like Miami already. 30 degrees Celsius. The highest temperature in Dalian was 21. I actually did know, but I was stubborn and still took my shorts and flip flops {which I borrowed from my friend Davin}. The two of them told me to wear something warmer, like a jacket and a pair of jeans. I had jeans but I didn't bring my jacket. I decided to wear denims and flipflops and brought my back pack along with Consuelo {my laptop} and my shorts. I told myself “Fuck this, I didn't borrow these flops and brought along me shorts for nothing! I'm gonna be wearing them even if I freeze to death!”

THE HAIR IN OUR SWEET AND SOUR PORK
1 hour later

The three of us are seated in a Chinese restaurant which Dalton and Qiu Min tell me, is a fairly popular restaurant all over China. It even has several branches in Dalian. I think we were the first customers for the day because when we entered they were still cleaning the toilets and some of the staff still had sleep on their faces. We got ourselves a table ordered. We waited for quite a bit. We did small talk that mostly consisted of what was on the docket for the day. Dalton was taking us to this theme park which was OK by me though I would've just preferred to chill on the beach and drink bear and smoke fags and sleep. But Dalton said that it still wasn't good to swim around this time of year, so I relented. So there we were waiting for our brunch that consisted of some nasty looking mutton soup, eggplants, and sweet and sour pork and three bowls of rice. When it came we ate. Then Dalton noticed something. HAIR. I dunno if it's human hair but there's hair, on our sweet and sour pork. He calls the waiter. The waiter denies it was hair. It was prolly some remnant of some chemical reaction between the vinegar and the pork fat and the spices and shit but it wasn't hair. Dalton asked if he could talk to the manager. The waiter said something that I didn't understand, but it was quite clear to me that we weren't gonna be able to talk with the manager. Dalton asked the waiter what they were going to do about it. The waiter said he didn't know. Dalton said “You better do something about it”, in a firm but polite voice. The waiter excused himself. The three of us looked at the hair and then at each other. I placed the haired sweet and sour pork on a tissue put it aside just in case the jury wanted evidence. Since the waiter's would most likely not do anything about it, we concurred that we eat the wretched sweet and sour pork. So we ate. I focused on the pineapples and the bell peppers.

We did get a discount however. Like a dollar fifty. Meh.

THE BEACH. THE OCEAN THEME PARK WITH CLOWNS THAT ROCK AND ROLL, AND WITH A CHICKEN AND A CONDOM FOR MASCOTS
2 hours later

After the sweet and sour pork. I asked Dalton and Qiu Min if I could have an hour at the coffee shop so I could finish up some work. We found a coffee shop with adequately priced coffee and awesome Internet connection. After that we headed up for the Lover's Lane in Dalian which is basically a nicely manicured road on a hill where most newly weds drive their cars for pictures and shit. We were not the only ones walking, there were a good number of tourists and locals trying to enjoy the nice warm weather. We took some pictures along the way. I saw a castle along the way which turned out to be Dalian's Shell Museum. It looked so out of place and it looked like it popped out from a Brother's Grim fairy tale. Then I saw the beach. I asked Dalton and Qiu Min if we could stop by for a while. Dalton said yes, but for a while {he's a take charge kinda guy}. So we did. I finally got to wear me shorts! Booya. The entrance was 2 yuan which was ok. There was quite a crowd there too. I wanted to swim but the water was freeeeeeezing. Three of us did try to soak our feet a coupla times or more but it was freeeeeeezing. Meh. I wish that my city was by the bay. Well, at least I get to wear shorts in Dalian. And flip flops too.

Speaking of flip flops. They're killing me. Davin warned me that they hurt his feet when he wears them. Stupid me didn't listen because I thought they looked so hot in my feet {they do} and decided to borrow them from Davin. My feet look hot but they started complaining after two hours with the motherfuckers. What sucks was that I had to wear them for the whole day since I left my shoes at our hotel room.

3 hours later
The flipflops are still killin my feet. But at least I look hot in them.

We're in the Ocean Theme Park. The tickets were $27 US {which I find too expensive. Meh, I'm Asian so sue me}. It's pretty OK tho. It has shitloads of giant aquariums/aquatic museums, dolphin shows {no Orca's just flippers}, park rides {which you still had to pay for despite of the $27 ticket!}, and other attractions like a bird sanctuary and bungee jumping {which you also had to pay. I wanted to do it but I didn't bring enough money with me... Sucks being poor on holidays! I wonder if there's a Do-It-Yourself Bungee kit?}.

I didn't bother watching the dolphin show because I saw dolphin shows on TV already. So I just wandered around the aquariums while Dalton and Qiu Min and the rest of the park goers were watching flipper do the hula. I just realized that it really feels good to be the only person in an aquatic museum. I feel some sort of connection with the belugas, the sharks, the walruses, the sea turtles, the sea lions and the polar bears who are inside a Plexiglas cage. Or maybe it's just me. I took my time in the aquariums. Then the show finished so I had to meet up with Dalton and Qiu Min.

The theme park has cute staff members tho which is a plus. I just love men that smell of fish. Erm, forget that I said that. I mean it.

DONUTS
4 hours later

The three of us found this place that sell donuts. It turned out to be the same coffee shop chain that I went to this morning. The donuts we're nothing miraculous but they were close to home. I came in my pants eating two caramel glazed donuts. I was in an orgasmic daze while the three of us were walking towards the market where Qiu Min was supposed to buy his starfish {don't ask me why}. They could tell I came in my pants. Donuts.

BULGOGI - GOD'S GIFT TO KOREANS
2 hours later

The three of us met up with Dalton's girlfriend, Scarlet. I gave her the name Scarlet because she wanted an English name and her Chinese name meant “deep red”. She had been using the name “Scarlet” for almost two years but with the wrong spelling thus the wrong pronunciation. SCOWLLEN , which was really kilometers away from Scarlet. But whatever. I'm in China.

Bulgogi. Is. God's. Gift. To. Korean-kind.

And to me.

I love Bulgogi.

Bulgogi rocks.

I had a hard on while eating it.

I'm having a hard on just writing about it.

SEA URCHINS. INSTANT NOODLES, YET AGAIN
12 hours later

I Have consumed my 5^th instant noodle. And I seriously think I should be off of it for a while. I dunno how much MSG my body could handle. Dalton made Qiu Min and I eat sea urchins. Raw. Like a sea urchin cut in the middle with its innards showing and its spikes still movin. Trying to summon my inner macho man {Village People style yo}. I poured vinegar on the sea urchin and scooped up the yellow slimy substance that I was supposed to eat. It wasn't bad. Though I would've liked it cooked. I washed my mouth with instant noodle soup. I can still taste the slime. I think I need to drink mouthwash. Or vodka. I think I'm gonna go vegetarian for a coupla days or so.

TRAINS. MY GAYDAR UPGRADE

5 hours later.

I'm on the train. A sleeper train, thank God. I'm finishing up this blog entry. Qiu Min is sleeping. I'll be arriving in Changchun at 4.30 in the morning. Then I go straight to work.

I just finished texting a friend of mine in Changchun. Turns out that my gaydar is fucked up. I don't know who's gay and who's not not unless they have rainbow flags and an NBC logo on their foreheads. I seriously need an upgrade. Looong Story and I'm waay to knackered to write, meh. That's another blog entry.

New Years. Eggs Benedict. Beijing.

I never thought 2007 would end, but it did. I am thankful and relieved that I was able to come out of it unscathed (I may have a couple of bruises here and there but hey, I’m still one piece). I celebrated the New Year in Beijing working and playing. Wendy, my future roommate, came with me to Beijing. She wanted to spend the new years dancing to good music (which we did). Where else could you find good dance music but a gay club? So we went to a gay club called Destination {mudidi in Chinese}. Destination is a popular gay dance and lounge club in Beijing. Gay locals and expats in Beijing call the place Desperation yet they still go there {I guess a lot are going desperate these days}. Wendy enjoyed herself thoroughly, but her only complaint was that nobody was hitting on her and guys were hitting on me. I actually felt good that people were hitting on me. I mean, I’ve been in Freezeville so long and I was already wondering if I had bad breath or body odor or something. People kept glancing and touching and groping, and well let’s just say a lot of people are going desperate these days. So desperate Wendy and I stayed in the gay bar till 3-ish am then I finally told her I had enough so we went looking for a straight bar that played “funky house” so guys could hit on her. True enough we found a straight bar that said out front that it played funky house. It didn’t it was like the music that Freezeville usually plays in its bars. Gay clubs really play the best music. The only consolation for Wendy was three guys started hitting on her. The only consolation for me was that there was a couch where I could actually lie down and rest my eyes. When I got tired of sleeping and Wendy got tired of being hit on, we decided to go and look for a place to eat. An American guy tagged along not actually knowing that I was with Wendy. The guy had an I NEED TO GET LAID IT’S NEW YEARS AND I’M ALREADY TURNING 25 IN A COUPLE OF MONTHS AND I NEED SOMETHING IN MY LIFE THAT WOULD ACTUALLY PASS FOR THE GREAT LEAP FORWARD SO MAYBE RANDOM SEX WOULD DO IT look on his face. Wendy was thinking about eggs benedict and he was thinking about her mammary glands. The poor guy paid for the taxi to go to this 24 hour brit pub that served good greasy meals and when we got a table, he pretended to phone his friend and left. Wendy didn’t care. She wanted her eggs benedict and by god she was gonna have it. She later told me that the guy was rude. He was sorta. Still, I hope he got laid that morning. He’s not my type mind you, I kind of feel for the guy. If you could’ve seen his face. He had that I NEED TO GET LAID IT’S NEW YEARS AND I’M ALREADY TURNING 25 IN A COUPLE OF MONTHS AND I NEED SOMETHING IN MY LIFE THAT WOULD ACTUALLY PASS FOR THE GREAT LEAP FORWARD SO MAYBE RANDOM SEX WOULD DO IT look and it was just too depressing to look at. Or maybe it was just that he had too much chemicals in his system. Well, there’s always the Chinese New Years.

By the way, eggs benedict just tastes heaven. I have to learn how to make those bastards.

Beijing is just a different city. It is a world on its own. Without the Chinese characters, it barely looks like the Beijing I saw when I first came to China. It’s like every time I visit Beijing, there’s always something new. And it’s kind of scary sometimes. I was going to my client one morning and I didn’t want to be late so I took a quick shower, left Wendy in our hotel room and took a cab to the designated place for the meeting. It was an unusually clear day for Beijing that morning and I was wondering if the green measures that the Chinese government is implementing in Beijing are finally paying off. I tried my best not to take out my digital camera and take pictures because I figured that I was far too sinofied to be taking pictures in a taxi cab. As I was nearing the Central Business District, I saw the new and almost finished CCTV Tower. Grotesque was the word that came to my mind when I saw the monolith looming over the Central Business District. It was mesmerizing for a split second then it became another thing for me. I’d prolly begin to appreciate it after a few decades or so. In its defense there are other buildings that are far uglier. And besides, the Eiffel Tower got the same treatment from assholes like me in its early years. Meh.

Beijing is a beautiful city. It’s ugly too. But then again, like what my boss said, all cities are like that. One thing that I noticed in Beijing is that people have clear cut spaces that they occupy. Especially expatriates. I was in that pub with Wendy eating her eggs benedict (I ordered burger and fries and I was still hungry) and I was discreetly observing people around. Almost all the patrons that time were foreigners. I could actually tell which ones were fresh from a China Southern Airline flight and which ones were just passing through and which ones who’ve been in China for a long time. Don’t ask me how but I feel it, and most of the time I’m right. It’s with the look. The way they dress. The way they talk and carry themselves. It’s with the way they order food. It’s many things actually. Then there was this guy that sat beside our table. It was clear that he’s been in Beijing (or China) for quite a while now. North American. Early forties. Eating his pizza while consuming half a bottle of vodka with tonic on the side. I made a mental note on how he responded to Wendy. Wendy was just so happy and giddy that she found eggs benedict, and mostly drunk, I guess. I didn’t stop her because I knew she was having way too much fun and she was pretty much harmless. She wanted to make small talk with the guy while we were both waiting for our food to arrive. The guy’s reply was both curt and condescending which Wendy, in her half drunken stupor, noticed. I just smoked my Marlboro’s and continued observing people. I focused my eyes on the Brazilian party on the other table. They were clearly enjoying themselves, probably students studying Chinese. The food arrived. We ate Wendy and I, the man ate his pizza and drank his vodka. Wendy was muttering something while she was on mid bite. She wanted to make more small talk with the prick {her words} just to piss him off but she held her tongue. We enjoyed our food and talked and ate and talked and ate and smoked. It was clear to the guy that we were out-of-towners and I could actually hear what he was thinking – “Tourists. Why don’t you just finish taking pictures and get on the next train to bumfuckwhereeveritisyouwork”, I could almost hear the words. And I bet my brown ass Wendy could hear it in her head too. Then again I didn’t care. It was the first day of 2008 and I was eating my friend’s eggs benedict and smoking Marlboro’s and drinking iced lemon tea. I looked around the room and apparently, all the others had that same afterglow look on their faces. Well, except the guy beside us. In fact, he was the only one eating without a companion. Which was, in a way, kind of sad. He reminded me of the guy who wanted to have sex with Wendy. That guy had the look of I WANT SEX EVEN A BLOWJOB WOULD DO written all over his face, but the guy beside our table had another kind of look. A look that said, LEAVE ME ALONE AND LET ME EAT MY FUCKING FOOD AND DRINK MY FUCKING VODKA YOU FUCKING TOURISTS. I actually felt something for the guy. I mean, I’m not attracted to him or anything but it’s just that my Ms. South Carolina gets over my normal self sometimes and I want to make the world a better place and eradicate illiteracy in South Africa and the betterment of Asia in general, thank you world peace, bow, wave, smile and pose. Ms. South Carolina or not, the guy needed a hug or a pat on the back. I wanted to hug him and tell him that it was all going to be alright. That life, in all it’s vicissitudes was actually beautiful and awesome and worth living.

So did I do it? Did I go all Leo Buscaglia on the guy and sang kumbaya in his face? Fuck hell no! What would you expect from a guy with a two minute attention span?! And besides, I was way too focused on the eggs benedicts. Let him think we are fucking tourists {well, we basically were}. He got up and left. I finished Wendy’s eggs benedict and drank some of her coke and lit a fag. And I looked at Wendy and told her “Happy New Year”. She did the same. I looked at her breasts; those mounds of flesh that those three men in the straight bar {that played fake funky house music!) were all pining for. They were indeed beautiful. And I dare say that they were very happy at that moment.

oh boy oh boy it's the soy! {Who da thunk! Edition}

I am so multi tasking right now - I am doing the following things

1. blogging, while... 2. working on another website, while... 3. trying to write a quick email, while... 4. smoking my fourth {AND LAST} fag for the day, WHILE... 4. dancing to JUMP by the Pointer Sisters {I am eternally trapped in the 80's time warp}

EAT YOUR HEART OUT MOTHER OPRAH!

Anyways, I was googling and doing my usual site hopping a while ago when I chanced upon this article from some guy named Jim Rutz who claims that soy based products {specifically soy milk} make people gay. And I quote :

Soy is feminizing, and commonly leads to a decrease in the size of the penis, sexual confusion and homosexuality. That's why most of the medical (not socio-spiritual) blame for today's rise in homosexuality must fall upon the rise in soy formula and other soy products. (Most babies are bottle-fed during some part of their infancy, and one-fourth of them are getting soy milk!) Homosexuals often argue that their homosexuality is inborn because "I can't remember a time when I wasn't homosexual." No, homosexuality is always deviant. But now many of them can truthfully say that they can't remember a time when excess estrogen wasn't influencing them.

Who da thunk!!!!!! Really! Come to think of it, I always experience this funny feeling in my stomach whenver I'm wolfing down my lunch tofu or whenever I drink soy milk. OMG!!!!!! It's giving me goosebumps right now. Somebody buy me some hetero pills fast! Ok. Mr. Rutz {who hails from the Megashift World Wide Church} claims that his sources are in fact, scientific. How can I put it gently? Ok. Well, Mr. Wino can just kiss my partly soy fed f@gg*t ass. I don't give a flying soya fuck! Tell it to the 1.4 billion Chinese people who consume soy products on a daily basis. Clearly, his sources are far more veritable than the general opinion of the scientific community {which does not exclude the positive and negative benefits of adding soy to the daily diet}. I heart soya. I may not consume it on a daily basis but I love it. And besides, I trust my sources better!