1.you want to experience world-class, perfectly choreographed, glitzy, seamless one-and-a- half hour long entertainment that is at turns fantastic and hilarious, right in the heart of Mandaluyong.
2.you've never seen up close and personal gays so unbelievably beauty pageant-worthy, more than your wife or girlfriend or mother or sister or I could ever hope to be.
3. you enjoy comedy bars but feel guilty going there too often bcoz of the sheer obscenity spewing from the performers. Club Mwah is your wholesome alternative. (Proof: There were two nuns [garbed in full religious regalia] and one guy who introduced himself as a priest the night we were there, and when asked to comment on the show they all said, 'Fantastic!').
4. you long for some good old Miss Saigon staples like The Heat is On in Saigon and Sun and Moon – except that the person who plays Kim is the resident ugliest/funniest gay performer (every comedy bar I've been to has one), and the Hayden type hunk who plays Chris changed into his waiter uniform within 2 minutes from the end of the show (it's so the age of multi-tasking).
5. you appreciate lavish stage design that includes moving parade floats, a giant spider web, enormous columns and temples for that Egyptian look, a localized version of the gutter scenery in Cats, the chopper from Miss Saigon, and elaborate costumes to go with it - tiaras fit for goddesses, bright, diaphanous gowns, semi-thongs with strategically sewed-on sequins, and feathers, feathers everywhere (on their heads and butts and arms ...).
6. you're a balikbayan/have balikbayan relatives or friends and want to show off homegrown Pinoy talent beyond brain-deadening soap operas and variety shows and the long-running, never-say-die sex video saga.
7. you're not the type to fret over the cholesterol count in chicharon bulaklak – which is about the one thing I liked from the menu (the rest of the food I wolfed down was a study in contradiction: the pizza was like something out of Greenwhich which I can't stand while the mojos were nothing at all like those from Shakey's which are exactly how I like them, plus the cheese sticks were baked and too healthy-looking while the sisig was swimming in its own fat – altho admittedly it would be too much to expect sisig to come out looking lean and nutritious).
8. you need further proof of the advances that have been done in aesthetic technology - or whatever they call the process that allows people born as males to have big boobs, small waists, smooth butts, and no visible manly bulges at all down there.
9. you don't mind sitting thru a few minutes of an over-the-top, lip sync portrayal of Memory (about the only number in the show that made me cringe, which is still saying a lot by Pinoy entertainment standards - I normally walk out of a local show before the first commercial break, unless it's Eat Bulaga or sometimes Bubble Gang).
10. you're familiar with the Reycards duet, so that you can laugh as hard as the next guy when somebody in the audience reveals that he was the manager of the Reycards duet, and the hosts note the uncanny resemblance between Carding and the resident ugliest/funniest gay performer, who enjoys the joke as much as everyone else.
11. you're the type that cracks up over beauty-contest-question jokes like, 'If you could die tomorrow, why not now?', or 'Aside from your face, what is your problem?'. (Hahaha.)
Wednesday, July 01, 2009
... that I haven't otherwise blogged about already.
1. I was caught jaywalking near SM North when I was barely learning to commute in college. We were brought to this police station somewhere and were asked to line up so of course I was the first in line thinking I'd be the first to be sent home. But then this woman behind a desk asked for my ID (my UP student ID, at that) and I saw her type “People of the Philippines vs. Jewel Fernandez y Corpuz et al”. I'm not kidding. I actually disclosed this in my Bar application forms. I got off from paying a fine and/or doing community service when the judge found out at my “sentencing” that I was all of 16 years old. I'm happy to report that this lone infraction comprises the entirety of my criminal past ... for now.
2. I topped a Biology exam in second year high school, surprising not only our teacher who was also our homeroom advisor but more so the honor student types in my class who doubtless felt they deserved the distinction more than I ever did. This feat meant nothing to me at all (all my academic life my mantra was consistently: please, Lord, just let me pass) and I don't know how I ever managed it (maybe my neat handwriting in the essay portion?). But I remember being pissed and thinking, can everybody please try to be a wee bit nicer to me and not act like my getting the highest score in some friggin exam is the biggest suprise of the century? Groan.
3. I understand tennis. (I also understand basketball, and played fencing in college, but that's about the limit of my sports abilities.) I got hooked after watching Serena Williams beat Martina Hingis in the US Open in the 90s. I love the Williams sisters. Venus more so after I read that she was instrumental in convincing the big guys to finally give equal pay for male and female players. It's glorious when they play each other, but I enjoy it more when they trash the likes of Davenport and Sharapova. My favorite game of all time was the one where Goran Ivanisevic came from behind as a wildcard entry to win the Wimbledon over Patrick Rafter. I harbor a crush on Goran until now.
4. I think I have this uncanny ability to remember something I don't even realize I knew in the first place. In law school, for example, Gay, Katryn and I joined this annual trivia quiz show on women sponsored by a sorority where our blockmate was an officer. No one else could answer the question about the singer of the Superman theme, but somehow I knew it was Maureen McGovern. (We went on to win first prize, which consisted of a lot of Avon products.) In high school, my classmates “volunteered” me and another classmate to join this Linggo ng Wika contest that involves naming the title of a Filipiniana movie or soundtrack after listening to a few strains on the piano. Somehow I got the answer to Dulce Amor. Don't ask me how or why. It's all pretty cool, I think. I'm hoping to cash in a lot of moolah from this so-called ability someday.
5. (This is the converse of the above.) I'm one of those annoying, pretentious know-it-all types, but I've been known to have moments of sheer, inexplicable idiocy (that usually leaves Ches befuddled and wondering why he ever married me). I think this started in grade school when we were given a homework to write 1 to 500 and I was wondering why everyone else's work took so many pages, and then I realized I had written after '100', '200', '300', '400' and '500', instead of '101', '102' ... (Aarrgh.) And then (as I wrote in an earlier blog) there was that time in KL when I was panicking bcoz my luggage weighed way past 20 already, when it turned out I was looking at the pounds instead of the kilos scale all along. Or, like last year when Thom and Paula were telling me about this cadet who took a pix of his etits and texted it out to his friends in MWC, and I asked, so is this cadet a boy or a girl? (I haven't heard the end of that from Thom and Pau, and deservingly so.) I even thought way into college that a bubwit is a small buwaya. And it was also already in college when I lost a bet (to Nico or Ches) bcoz I insisted that Palawan is in Mindanao. Which explains why one of Chester's early endearments to me was timawa. And of course I had to ask him to explain: uh, what is timawa? Sigh.
6. My earliest memory consists of me and Rino playing with balloon images of Ernie and Bert (the kind that stand up) while Jen went off to school one morning. I also distinctly remember Rino throwing a big stone right smack on my head and breaking my red hairband in half. (Ches thinks this stone-throwing incident affected my brain, which he says explains why it often malfunctions to this day. Ches thinks he's being so funny with these comments. Grrr.) What makes my memory still so vivid is the fact that Vada has made a habit of throwing her toy pots and pans (without any provocation whatsoever) on poor little Bootsie's head. It's like seeing Rino all over again, only in little girl form this time.
7. Breakfast meals are my comfort food. (Which is ironic considering I am so not a morning person.) If I ate only garlic rice, sunny side-up egg (with the yolk hard and not all runny) and corned beef/longanisa/hotdog/bacon/adobo flakes/Spam the whole day, I'm convinced that I'd be a much kinder, less angsty person over-all. Bcoz then I'd be in a good mood all the time. (Which maybe explains why Yoshi is such a happy human?) Just recently Ches was lamenting how it used to be so much easier to feed me, all he had to do was get me some good fried or roasted chicken. (Even when we went on fine dining dates I had the chicken). But thru all these years I've acquired a taste for hoity toity food like sashimi and chapchae and osso buco and stuff. I told Ches not to worry, bcoz deep down I'm still the same shallow girl, that he can feed me breakfast meals every day and won't ever hear me complain.
8. I'm a certified undomestic goddess. The reason I love washing dishes and cleaning the house is that these two just about sum up my domestic skills. I can probably learn to cook and do the laundry, but what is the point, I'm asking you? As a young girl, I tried to make soup for my grandparents while vacationing in Pangasinan. It was all good, except that instead of the soup powder, I mixed in a pack of Band-Aids into the broth. True story. (Maybe I was illiterate on top of being undomestic? Bcoz surely there were labels on the Band-Aids? Groan.) This is why I'm forever exuding kindness to our maids. Bcoz I know I so need them in my life. (Jen, on the other hand, cooks complicated stuff like chicken pastel and kare-kare, and is capable of other functional chores on the homefront, hence she's always been the resident mang-aaway and taga-palayas of the maids. Hahaha.)
9. The thing that will probably make me leave the Philippines for good is those darned politicians' habit of putting on sirens in their cars and getting cops in motorcycles to escort them as they wantonly go on counterflow or go thru the red lights while the rest of us mere mortals are not allowed to move an inch and have no choice but to simmer in our cars. So we watch the lights turn green on our end for only the 17th time and the friggin traffic cops still won't let us go bcoz they have to give a wide berth to Mr. VIP Politician and His Minions who are treated like revered deity while we are the scum of the earth who have no right whatsoever to demand to be treated with something as basic as decency. It's enough to make you want to do a Falling Down a la Michael Douglas. I've been tempted to step out of the car several times and yell at these people, just what makes you think your life is more important than mine? Last time I checked, there was only one God, and He is not you. Grrr.
10. I'm bad at directions. I have an insanely difficult time figuring out which one is left and which is right. It's a constant source of consternation for Ches. I kept flunking quizzes on filling in the blanks with the less or more sign bcoz it was too confusing for me. (Yoshi gave me a useful tip when we were doing his homework on this: Pacman likes to eat more stuff, so that's the direction where his mouth opens. I should've met Yoshi when I was in grade school. Dang.) In cabs I always think for a few minutes before I tell the driver which way to turn, and even then I end up saying the wrong thing and realize this only after he's already made the turn. So then I took to pointing with my hands instead which means he would have to look behind to see where I'm pointing at. Needless to say I get a lot of angry cab drivers.