Video Scandals

2 08 2014

I can understand being brazen and daring—and maybe adventurous when it comes to sexual encounters. But to be so reckless that after some time it pops out of nowhere? That’s called being uber-irresponsible.


Giggles and Flirtation

2 12 2007

I used to actively chat via mIRC when I started out in college.  I guess it was around the time when the now extremely popular IRC client took its babysteps too.  Then came ICQ (an oronym for I seek you) but I never really liked it for some reason.  It was around that time when I first created my Yahoomail and Eudoramail accounts.  Looking back, I can never really believe how far everything has gone.  During that time, sending SMS was limited to the rich kids.  But later on, mobile phones have become almost an extention to our body parts.  Even the families who could barely eat three square meals have at least one. 

When my father’s aide asked permission to buy a cellphone, I had a long talk with him.  I told him that while I don’t have anything to do with whatever he does with his life and his money, we definitely hope that buying a gadget that would test his priorities, would not affect his priorities.  He came here from a far-flung barrio where his father would beat him up if he couldn’t hand over a few coins to buy booze.  He came here because we need him as much as he needs us.  My father is paralyzed and because old men are the most hard-headed patients in the world, he has never recovered from his stroke.  He has become totally dependent to the not-so-young boy for even the simplest of things—from scratching his back to feeding him—to the messiest of them all, like wiping him clean after defecating, sponge-bathing him, and doing covert ops just so he could eat ice cream in the middle of the night when my mom specifically told him not to and so many other things.  My dad, even when he was in tiptop shape, has always been a handful.  That’s where I got most of my traits, I guess—his gene pool.  So anyway, we all know how it felt like when we first had our first ever mobile phone with SMS capabilities.  I kinda expected the changing of ringing tones, message alert tones, the horrendous volume, the non-stop-I’ll-trip-over-but-I-dont-care-just-so-long-as-i-can-finish-this-message thing, etc.  Because I am nocturnal, I get really hot-headed in the morning a few minutes before I sleep or when my sleep is interrupted during the day.  And because he had his message alert tone changed to some pop tune, the darn phone pumps up the volume non stop after lunch when everybody in the house is asleep for siesta, including him.  And because I’m a light sleeper–that depends actually on the kind of noise–I always get to be the one who hears the alert.  After three consecutive messages, I rush downstairs and try to find the darn phone and lo! and behold! it’s right near the landline phone in the living room.  So I looked for the owner of the loud phone.  And my, oh, my, the good boy is in deep slumber, with his mouth wide open as if waiting for manna from heaven to fall.  So there I was, fully awake after around just 3 hours of sleep after almost 36 hours of working.  In a very bad mood.  I make it a point never to do anything when I’m all angry and pissed.  And so I tried desperately to go back to sleep.  So sleep I did until around 7PM which made my head hurt real bad.  I don’t like sleeping till around that time because it always makes my head hurt like hell.  I went back to work and downed a whole pint of vanilla ice cream.  God, that was heavenly.

And so one day, I called him and asked him to sit down for another one of my attempts at diplomacy.  So I said…I understand how it is to have a new phone and to be new in the SMS arena but if could just put his phone in silent mode when he’s in Papa’s room, that would really be great.  Or he could leave his cellphone in his room so it won’t disturb anyone if he doesn’t want to change the alert tone. 

A few hours later, I heard the phone screaming mercilessly.  So I called him and asked him what’s going on.  He had the volume set to 5 so he could hear it even from Papa’s room.  Now, isn’t he wise!

So anyway, our houseboy has expanded his vocabulary, thanks to text education, to a few more English words.  He has also acted like a male dog in heat.  He has since become (and became) the boyfriend of almost all the housemaids in the subdivision and in the nearby bakery. 

Much to my mom’s utter disgust, of course.  But I try to tell her that I understand.  It’s so easy to flirt over the phone, online and even over the good old snail mail—pen pals anyone?  We all have different worlds and for people who do not have to think of anything else other than waking up and serving his bosses, I think he deserves whatever surge of lust or something like it that he’s been indulging to these days.  SO LONG AS IT DOES NOT AFFECT HIS WORK.  Well, there have been lapses but I think things have been addressed pretty clearly and I am keeping my fingers crossed that nothing bad will happen.  What is a little concession like that for days of peace and order!  If it makes him happy, then it causes a chain reaction.  Happy employees are more effectively productive and that means happier employer.

So, now, let’s go back to moi.  I once had a two-year relationship with a guy I met online way back in college.  Well, make that three.  The other two were merely sinfully wonderful and memorable flings so they don’t really count as relationships but just for the sake of statistics, let’s count them in.  There’s something about exchanging naughty and teasing comments with someone who’s not physically near you that makes things a whole lot more, er, tingly. 

When the cameras were integrated into mobile phones, my then boyfriend asked me to send him “sexy” pix and he returned the favor.  Since I was in a semi-long distance relationships, the ooohs and aaaahs over texts and later phone calls sufficed.  Then with the advent of more modern tech, um, simultaneous indulgence of self-help developed cult-like support online.  Sad to say, it has degenerated the nature of flirting and harmless chatting with strangers. 

I traverse the long and winding information superhighway every day and because of that people constantly ask me what cybersex is, or if I’ve met someone online who will whisk me off poverty in the Philippines to some sugar-coated gingerbread house in the land of milk and honey or somewhere far from this Pearl of the Orient.  Well, I can explain in a very clinical and academic way what cybersex is and how it is done but in terms of chatting with someone who will eventually become a special part of my life, the answer is a resounding, eeeeeenkkkkk! 

NO.  As a single (Asian) female, I do get into those moods when I feel like I really want to be with someone.  My former landlady tells me I’m on NPO for now—medical practitioners, go figure—and for someone who had been not on NPO for a collective and straight seven or so years, it’s quite hard.  They say you don’t crave for something that you haven’t really tried.  Well, I have and so I crave.  But despite being a cosmo girl who understood Carrie’s consternation at the prospect of losing her Manolos to a “shoe-napper”, I think my quick tumble in the hay days are over.  I am not into that anymore.  Well, if the opportunity presents itself, why not?  But I have made my circle so small that even I could not turn around that easily.  So what opportunity are we talking about?  I’m not complaining, mind you.  But the thing is, I meet people online.  From work, through blogs, through wherever.  And while I am a natural tease and flirt, being asked for a cam view and for something to start a few minutes after you even say hi, is a tad too weird for me.  After a long hiatus from chatting, I tried getting into one of those chatrooms in Yahoo and jeeez, people seem to talk in one language and all they ask and talk about is sex, cams and cums!  Whatever happened to friendship and getting to know you while we flirt occasionally without really meaning anything much?  It’s just me getting all cheeky and clenched butt. 

I remember one masseuse who’s a friend of my mom.  She’s quite talkative—a trait that I really do not appreciate while getting a massage.  But when conversations turn green, even in my half-awake, half-asleep state, my ears still perk up.  So anyway, she just got widowed and so she’s been the brunt of jokes about looking for an “American” (the word is enclosed in quotation marks because sometimes we have this penchant of calling all foreigners American) husband.  She said she tried chatting but she gets uncomfy when the guy that she chats up with shows his dick right out and asks her to show her boobs or slit in return.  So she makes up excuses about not having a cam and all that jazz while she and her relatives watch while the “American” on the other side of the internet touches himself till everything limps down and the guy excused himself so he can “dry off” and “clean up” that usually means going to the bathroom or grabbing a roll of toilet paper for some. 

While I do not want to sound prissy, this simply does not turn me on.  I don’t know.  I get turned on by witty conversations that are peppered with flirtations and naughty innuendos but being other than that, I can always get into the part and just type some “motivational” lines for the other party. 

Needless to say, I’m not on a serious quest to find someone who’ll treat me like a princess and not for anything else.  When I’m 30 and I’m still not “in a relationship” as Friendster puts it, I will panic.  But only for a moment.  I think I have a healthy enough self-esteem to know that it’s not being in a relationship that matters—it’s in having fun while we can in a way that we will have fun indeed.  Perhaps, I still have unresolved personal issues to take care of and I think I will not make a good partner until I iron out whatever ugly wrinkles there are in my shirt. 

I have recently been getting proofs how big a liar my ex-boyfriend is and his audacity of continuously denying so many things even when I know what the real score is have been such huge downers lately.  Well, there’s work.  It gets me down but not emotionally so occasional online flirtations with people that I don’t really know, help big time.  Well, I’m choosy.  I don’t like wimps and younger guys.  And I have very little time.  So when I do get into that kind of mood, I’ll go for knights (or badass chicks!) in rusty armors while I wear my French maid’s costume.  Don’t get me started on how to use the feather duster!  LOL. 

But well, I miss blogging and even if I’m not making any sense, I am quite happy that I have blabbered a thought too many somehow. 

Oh, and I’m not in THAT mood right now, with over 70 web pages to revise, I don’t think I can afford to let out even a lusty sigh.  So, a piu tardi! Molto grazie! Ciao! 

Troy–Yet Another Spoof, Bisaya Edition

25 10 2007


May be offensive to some.  This is just a spoof and should not be taken as anything otherwise. 

This is in Cebuano and I believe I can’t do justice to it by translating it to any other language so…

Watch at your own risk.

Harry Potter–Bisaya Edition

25 10 2007

This is a Harry Potter spoof from a fellow Ozamiznon.  Way to go, Bai.  Hehehe.  LMAO gyud.


May be offensive to some.  This is just a spoof and should not be taken as anything otherwise. 

This is in Cebuano and I believe I can’t do justice to it by translating it to any other language so…

Watch at your own risk.

Working My Arse Off

21 10 2007

I’ve been unusually busy the past few days.  I do manage to go to sleep—the kind where my body just surrenders itself to the bed and then to slumber—at around half past five in the morning, at least for the past few days.  As if programmed by a Wake Up button, my system automatically reboots at around eight in the morning and my arm automatically extends itself so my hand could grab my phone and check the time, which is of course, always a few minutes shy of or a few minutes over eight.  Then I squint and look at my notebook’s screen to see how many new messages have come in while I was catching a few winks.  I can now make out from a 6-meter distance when I have an important message.  Usually if the new messages were folders filled with paperwork, they’re usually already a meter long up my desk but since they’re just in my inbox, I could say that I can measure them by the inches from afar and they’re always around six inches.  So I creep up to my chair and try to force myself to really wake up.  I check the e-mails, answer a few of them.  Ignore the YM messages and write on the whiteboard the things that I need to finish in a few hours.  And then I slump my still tired body to bed. 

I don’t go back to sleep.  My mom would come in after a few minutes to say that if I will eat at all, food’s ready.  And I would grunt in response.  Talk about ugly sounds. 

So I stay where I am until the image of my whiteboard embeds itself into my memory lane.  Just plain work waiting to be finished.  Sigh.  So I wash my face, brush my teeth, gargle oral antiseptic, change into my house clothes and go down to wave at my dad whose door is always open—he’s hardly mobile due to a cerebrovascular accident (CVA) more commonly known as stroke so he’s always in bed—play with the dogs, clean up their mess, check the beetle, stand motionless by the door and stare blankly at nowhere until my mom asks me something, head back to my room, slump back to bed, take a shower, change into a fresh set of clothes and whatever else—not necessarily in that order. 

But I guess I can’t complain.  In November last year, while I was living my own life, my brother, who I haven’t spoken with for over a year because of our personal differences, patched things up with me, or so I thought.  Well, he needed my “help” because he felt something physiologically incorrect in his body and he didn’t want to alarm anybody else so he went to the person that he knows rarely gets “alarmed” over any emergency–ME!  So, I took him to a hospital in Cebu, got him one of the best doctors whose specialization covered his “illness” and so after that, we became “close” again and he went back home with the assurance that he’s ok.  Then came December.  My sister had a general checkup in May and was given a clean bill of health but in July, she felt a lump in her left breast.  In August, she had a fine needle aspiration biopsy and was advised to have a frozen section biopsy because of suggestive mammary carcinoma, or breast cancer.  Typical of us Filipinos, they put it off.  When I learned about it, I went home and almost dragged her by the hair so she could have that biopsy.  True enough, she had breast cancer and after two days, she had a radical mastectomy leaving her breastless, well, at least in the left.  So until April, I accompanied her to her chemotherapy sessions.  The biopsy after the mastectomy was great.  It showed that all cancer cells were removed during the surgery but she had to go through chemo sessions just to be doubly sure that the chances of recurrence won’t be that high. 

In March, my boyfriend of over five years and I broke up in a very life-draining way.  I suspended the mourning period until my sister was not with me in Cebu because I believed that I could mope and cry my heart out in due time.  And that’s what I did for a whole month from April to May.  Then I packed my things and headed back home to “forget” and to start anew.  And then my sister, who’s a nurse based in NY, announced that she’s coming home for a short short visit.  And since no one at home cared enough to clean up the house, I did most of the scrubbing and whatnots on all fours, contacted carpenters, plumbers, etc to fix everything that needed fixing.  July came and so did my sister.  Then they left. 

Needless to say, the freelancer moi gave up a lot of projects from November up to around July this year.  So I started to contact my old clients and checked if work was available.  I also placed bids in some freelancer haven of a website to get new projects.  Work started to come in slowly in August and September and now, God is good, I’m swamped.  So yeah, I’ve been really busy that I couldn’t even find time to flirt that much anymore.  Jeez!  The only time I get to touch myself even, is when I take a bath or after I pee!  But like any other woman, I don’t really feel that lacking. 

So yeah, I don’t make sense anymore.  But I needed to write something to keep me sane.  there you go.


7 10 2007

Yep, blaspheme some more.  I abhor members of the clergy who hide underneath their cassocks.  I, not only, pray that they be roasted and re-roasted in hell or wherever for the crimes that they commit here on earth, but I also pray that all the prosecutors who use twisted logic to exonerate these offenders—sexual offenders at that—be dealt with the same punishment. 

While rejoicing over Pacman’s victory, I read about the dismissal of the case of acts of lasciviousness filed against Cebu Archdiocesan priest, Fr. Benedicto Ejares.  Having come from a family of lawyers, I can take acquittals and conviction as if it’s just another weather forecast.  But my evening was completely ruined upon reading that the prosecutors dismissed the case on the contention that the defendant’s actions of toying with bra straps and touching the students’ arms and backs and of embracing them are matter of routine and habit, and that such body parts are not even “private”.  The prosecutors even went on to describe the priest as not an ordinary being but an alter-ego of Jesus Christ!  Such travesty!

Twenty minors complained but only seven submitted sworn statements.  Apparently, these were not enough to convict an alter-ego of Jesus Christ.  If we live in a world where priests can freely touch our not-so-private parts while administering sacraments and where prosecutors let them be because they are no ordinary beings, then I don’t know where this is leading to anymore.  Next time, if a priest is in some TV series in the US, I won’t be surprised if we’d hear lines like, you’re so lewd, you must’ve come from some seminary in the Philippines! I know it’s not an isolated case and it’s not something that has happened only in the Philippines but I’m not sure if we have convicted any sex offender who hails from inside the church.

Read more about this bull here or here.

I am not one to judge.  I have lint in my eyes too.  I even have many friends in the clergy.  I know not all of them are bad eggs.  But there are simply those who are disgusting.  For a time, my involvement in various radical groups, has brought me closer to one particular religious order that was supposed to have taken a huge part in the Reforms of the Catholic Church but my oh my, if it’s not a gay priest, it’s a father who has fathered someone somewhere, or a priest who has a girlfriend.  And they don’t even get sanctioned by their own superiors! 

…And with prosecutors thinking like that? I’m not sure about you people, but I think the world is coming to an end!


7 10 2007

I don’t like kids. 

I love my nieces and nephews–all eight of them.  But I am not one of those people (especially females) who coo over babies when they see them or think the little girl, barely one year old, who’s wearing a gartered headband is cute.  (Have pity on the infant, you people! It may look nice and attractive to you but I’m sure the li’l girl doesn’t appreciate the discomfort!  Regardless of how “loose” you claim it to be!)I don’t rush to whoever is carrying the baby so I could also carry IT!  I remember taking care of my nieces and some of my nephews.  It was never fun to carry them for such a long time.  It pulls muscles but I love them since they’re family. 

I want to have a baby.  Sooooo badly.  I had my chance, twice.  But it just never happened.  My uterus is retroverted and my ovaries are polycystic.  The downside?  It’s so hard to impregnate me.  The upside?  I get to have fun without worrying about getting preggy.  But of course when the right time comes, whenever that is, I want to have a baby, with or without a husband.  It’s unfair to the kid, I know, but why force it if I can’t be a good wife in the eyes of my child.  I know I’ll be a good mother.  I’m not worried in that department.  But to be a good wife?  That depends. 

Going back to kids…if I have a choice, I don’t want to be around them.  But for some reason, kids are drawn to ME! In airport terminals, in ships, in buses, in shopping malls, in restos—everywhere!  I used to be super fat and one time, we were in KFC in SM City Cebu and a kid kept on smiling at me!  It was getting so weird because I didn’t even notice him until my then boyfriend told me.  I glared at the kid and he looked away.  He was about 5 years old.  The type who could already tell his mom that the lady in the other table glared at him.  But he clammed up and looked at me again.  No, stared is the word.  My then boyfriend teased me that he must’ve thought that I’m a mascot.  NOT funny because it was starting to freak me out.  Good thing they had to leave ahead of us. That’s one of the reasons why I plunged into weight reduction desperate measures.  If only I had at least an ounce of desire to try drugs, I would have puffed the magic dragon 24/7 just to get the desired effect.  But I’m not too sure about that either.

Now, I love money.  So when I was still working a true-blue member of the uring manggagawa (working class), well, not really, I accepted all other gigs that came my way to earn some more.  My first ever part-time job while having a full-time job was as a tutor.  When the Koreans were still in the initial stages of their diaspora, I was one of those very lucky ones who was able to be a tutor to a Korean for P300 an hour.  Yep boys and girls, twice as much as the running rate nowadays.  And the good thing about that was that he wasn’t so young and since he was enrolled in one of the international schools in Cebu, he already knew how to at least express himself in broken English.  His family mistook me for a Chinese because I do look like one.  I had to quit after around three months because I can understand a few Korean phrases.  I had Korean as a language elective back in UP and I didn’t like them talking bad about me in Korean even when I’m within earshot thinking that I couldn’t understand them.  My tutee liked me and even planned to give his Samsung flip-phone to me.  Yep, that happened around 5 years ago when Samsung phones were still really cool because only very few people had them and they brought back the flip mobile phones in style.  So I quit.  Told them I could understand them.  Thing is, only the kid understood English really well and I didn’t want him to be the interpreter so I am not sure, even to this day, if they understood why I quit. 

Next in line—an eight-year old Filipino-Chinese boy.  He was the only boy in the brood of four and his sisters were in the honor roll in their respective classes.  He was, um, chubby too and all he could think about then were Zoids and Yo-Gi-Oh.  Everytime I taught him Math, I had to use Zoids and Yo-Gi-Oh in word problems.  That worked for him. 

He also kept a diary which was really funny because he’d let me read it.  One time, I told him that if he finished his Math assignment in 15 minutes without mistakes, I’d let him watch Yo-Gi-Oh.  We had a deal.  And everyday, it was like that.  If he finished something fast and accurately, I’d let him watch TV.  One day, one of his sisters told their mom that D was made to stand in the quadrangle of their school for excessive talking.  Hehehe.  His mom, who didn’t like anything like that because it meant that the moms of the other kids in the school that they go to also know of the incident and they were her friends!  So she stormed into the room while he was getting his treat (watching TV) and was asked to turn it off because he’s been a bad boy!  D looked at me and said, Teacher Geda o!  What was I to do?  Hehehe.  I talked to his mom and reminded her that that was our deal.  The mom backed off and told D that she’ll deal with him when our session’s over.  Hehe.  That was really funny, and awkward. 

Talk about awkward, my then boyfriend would send me a message at around the same time each day to tell me that he’s home or that he’ll eat dinner or something like that.  D knew about it.  And one time, he asked me, Teacher, do you also kiss with Tiger?  (Err, I used to call my ex Tiger, and I was his Tigress :-p) So, since I never saw anything wrong with answering the question, I said yes.  And then he asked—do you also have sex?  I almost fell off my chair!  And because I was caught off guard, I told him that it’s never polite to ask people that.  Not only was it rude, he hadn’t finished his assignment yet.  Case closed.  But I know I blushed to my roots then.  Sexual innuendos and jokes are funny when they’re exchanged between friends within the same age group, or at least with people over 18! 

After two years, I quit.  Because I moved to a company where I had to work nights.  D was devastated.  And I was too.  I never thought I’d become so attached to a child who’s not related to me but I did. 

My next “victim” was my landlady’s grandson.  I left the corporate world then and was just starting to work home-based.  So I was practically “home” the whole time.  I actually offered and they were hesitant at first because 1) they knew I hate kids 2) they couldn’t afford me.  But by then, I was already falling in love with teaching hard-to-teach kids.  And so every afternoon, the kid would go up to my room and study with me.  I taught him from writing to math to appreciation of books and good manners.  Naks.  While I’m not a paragon of virtue, I believe my parents brought me up really well.  When we grow up, we make our own choices and so for the mistakes that I have made when I have been out here and there, I blame no one but myself.  And so I’m proud of what I have done to A.  He writes like a kolehiyala (sharp and pointed, ladies?) and has already read pop literature and a few of the classics.  Oh, and he also asked me (more often) about sex.  I did try my darnedest to make everything sound clinical.  After all, the boy was under my “tutelage” for 2 years.  Besides, the earlier kids know about it from people close to them, the better their understanding of it becomes.  Less curiosity takes here and there, less population growth.  LOL.  My God!  I remember one time when he asked me if Tiger was coming to town for Valentine’s Day.  And I said, yes.  And he said, oh, so you’re gonna have sex!  I’ll just imagine the two of you doing it!  His grandpa who was within earshot guffawed!  So I lectured him again about blurting things out in public.  Sigh.  What a life. Too bad I had to leave. 

I still don’t like kids.  There are those that I warm up to after a while and I have accepted that regardless of how bitchy I can be, kids know better.  Hehe.  And yeah, I’m not that bad after all. 

Now, as for making babies…I’ll think about that some other time.