|
|
|
|
 | Sometimes I go whole days
listening bored, half sleep
I won't say anything
that's worth a thing to me
One day, suddenly, time
took a turn that once felt so brief
I blinked to see polite ghosts fading quickly
What begins as an unguarded
train of thoughts slowly can become
an addiction to the slumber
of disconnection and the resonance
of memory that no longer has a shape
but keeps you numb through
the hours till gone is another day
Be aware, my darling
these things I say I mean
are just traces of something
I long to feel again
I see our time expand
in the air almost forcibly,
spreading thinner till it dissolves completely
--Half Asleep, by School of Seven Bells
   |
|
|
|
I'm Surrounded...
|
May 21, 2008 9:45 pm
3923 Views
|
..by funny people. And I mean ha-ha funny, not that sort of funny. I keep being told I make people laugh, and I tend to think a lot of it might have to do with the company I keep.
Consider my very belated birthday dinner celebration last night (we finally got all our schedules synchronized) with two of hubby's best friends and their wives, both of whom I get along with very well. P, hubby's best friend since high school and M his wife, of my A Flock of Seagulls blog fame were there, so were M2 and B, his wife. The conversations went something like this--
Me: Well, eldest just turned ten, so he's of an age when he'll be asking more about sex.
B: So what do you tell him when he asks?
Me: Oh, he did before, about why it feels so good whenever he rubs himself down there. I just said it's something he should do in private, and not too often, otherwise he might get a UTI (Urinary Tract Infection).
B (droll and deadpan): Can you please tell my husband that? I'm beginning to worry he might get a UTI, too.
M2: You have to start working out, P. We're all getting past 40.
P: Yeah, I know. Fat to muscle, right? What's the difference anyway?
M2: Fat is soft, muscle is hard.
P: So why is my stomach hard?
M2: That's hardened fat, man.
M2: You never get what you want--look at me, I wanted a gal with huge boobs, but I married a flattie.
B: Which is why I've always told you to just touch your own boobs for foreplay since they're bigger anyway.
M2: Yeah, and I get aroused more, too.
M2: Do you guys remember the gals we used to have the hots for in college, P?
P: Oh yeah. (Ticks off a few names) But what about Paul here, who did you have the hots for?
Me: This big boobed gal named Camille C. whose blouse he kept trying to peep into.
P: Those weren't boobs, those were throw pillows.
Me: Must be why he picked me instead, he got scared of being smothered in his sleep.
|
|
|
111
Comments
|
|
|
Wedding Vignette
|
May 18, 2008 9:27 am
3330 Views
|
Went to the wedding of a childhood friend tonight, a man I've known since I was about 8 years old. This is his first marriage at the ripe old age of 41, so everyone was understandably happy to congratulate him and his blushing bride. His parents beamed proudly, the reception hall was packed with well-wishers, and the food served was top-notch. I was having a maudlin, nostalgic time reminiscing with my other childhood friends about how we all used to pummel each other in the service vehicle en route home every Saturday from weekly get-togethers for pre-teens organized by our church. How we all got married, with two of our childhood friends ending up with each other, eventually having kids, and now, this friend of ours finally, FINALLY settling down.
The videographer started showing childhood pictures of the bride and groom on the huge screens dominating both ends of the hall, first presenting the bride's growing up years, to the tune of Billy Joel's Uptown Girl. Everyone ooh'ed and aah'ed at how the cute little girl grew up to be a beautiful bride, with some people bouncing along in their seats to the upbeat music.
Then it was the groom's turn.
And for reasons unknown, for reasons I cannot fathom, the background music they played while pictures of the groom throughout the years flashed on the screen was, get this--
Kid Creole and the Coconuts' My Male Curiosity.
Now, I don't know about you, but the way I see it, a song that goes, "It's been a pleasure loving you/But now the pleasure's through/Another girl's arousing my...wooh! Curiosity!"--is probably THE most inappropriate song to play at a wedding reception.
I gaped open mouthed at hubby. He gaped back at me. And without even saying a word, we both went "WOOH!" with the song.
And just lost it cracking up at the dinner table.
|
|
|
62
Comments
|
|
|
The Singapore Chronicles Part Two
|
May 14, 2008 3:56 am
3277 Views
|
Day three in sweltering Singapore, yet despite the heat, we still had our appetites with us. Morning was spent having breakfast at Ya Kun Kaya Toast outlet for more of that quintessential Singaporean breakfast. We then hied off to Orchard Road so my nephew could check out Singapore shopping, but we were basically just killing time till we could meet up with WHF at the Metropole Herbal Restaurant (formerly known as the Imperial Herbal Restaurant) for lunch. When we got there she was already enjoying a mug of their wonderful signature menthol herbal tea, ready to chow down with three tired and famished Manilans.
We were disappointed to find it was Doris the Herbal Diva's day off. Now Doris captured my hubby's heart the first time he met her when WHF took him to the original Imperial Herbal Restaurant for dinner a couple of years back. She not only had intricate knowledge of herbal ingredients designed to promote well-being and harmony and would take the time to explain every dish, but was actually one of the few people who accurately recognized my hubby for a Filipino. Most of the time people mistake him for either Thai, Malaysian, Chinese, Indonesian, even Korean, which is kinda far-fetched in my opinion. But Doris took one look at him and divined where he was really from. So if you want to see how my competition, I mean, Doris, looks, check out Anthony Bourdain's No Reservations Singapore episode Part 1 at the tube--she's the one explaining why his yang is out of whack. I might have to do kung-fu battle with her over a bowl of deer testicles for my hubby. Why do I get the feeling WHF will not only sell tickets if this does happen but take bets on who'll win, too?
The food arrived, and it was, at the risk of being repetitive, wonderful. I especially loved the delicately curdled egg whites spooned over crisply fried dried scallops, and the lovely dessert of sugar-syrup coated yams which you had to dunk as fast as you can into ice water to crystallize the sugar. The conversation flowed, the food was delicious, the restaurant blessedly cool, and before we knew it, a couple of hours had passed and WHF had to hie off to another appointment. We agreed to meet up again for a late dinner after her dancing engagement that night.
We took my nephew to Sentosa, then rode the Singapore Flyer, the world's largest observation wheel--even higher than the London Eye at 165 meters--so we could see Singapore at dusk come to life. From there we went to the Esplanade and the Merlion just so he could check out Singapore's other landmarks.
We then went to pick WHF up from the restaurant where she had her dancing gig, and off we went to have bah kut teh, or pork rib soup along Ballestier Road. She took us to a hawker's stall and we had bowls of the intensely flavored soup, with some pork intestines stewed in soy sauce and some stir fried greens to go with it. We then hied off to have some dessert at the Newton Hawkers' Center, with some flavorful tea tarek, or "stretched tea" to cap off our sweet treats. Wouldn't you know it, it was almost 2 AM again when we finally trudged back to our hotel.
Last day of our trip found us meeting up for one last lunch with her at Sami's Curry, for some mouth-watering Fish Head Curry, lentils, fried cauliflower, and all the biryani rice and papadums you could eat. I love the area where Sami's Curry is located, which is within the old army barracks of the British. It was full of trees and shade and was a great place to hang out and chat with good friends while having the best masala chai in town.
Eventually we had to part ways, but we did it without a heavy heart, knowing full well we would always meet again.
WHF, from the bottom of my bottom, I mean, my heart, thank you so much for your time and your kindness in taking us in hand and showing us around this small island as only you could do. We love you.
|
|
|
62
Comments
|
|
|
The Singapore Chronicles Part One
|
May 10, 2008 6:56 pm
3245 Views
|
Warning: Rampaging Food Addiction Very Evident In This Post
As WHF already detailed Day One of our Singapore food binge, except for the fact that hubby insisted on going straight to our favorite laksa joint fresh off the airport, I won't repeat that anymore.
It was just wonderful to see her again, after all these years. Even more wonderful was the fact that we just picked up where we left off, as if there was no time apart, talking and laughing like people who have known each other for most of our lives. We didn't notice time passing and bemusedly noted that the hotel where we were having our milkshakes already had people vacuuming the lounge where we had parked ourselves. I looked at my watch and was shocked to find that it was already way past 2 AM!!
On our second day, hubby, nephew and I had breakfast at a nearby food court near our hotel, where nephew and I had the quintessential Singaporean breakfast--kopi C (very strong coffee with condensed milk), kaya toast and very soft boiled eggs--and hubby had some fish noodles. Lunch on our second day was spent in Little India because I had wanted to go to Mustafa's, THE ultimate Indian supermarket/department store/treasure trove in Singapore. We met WHF and off we went to Little India, but when we got to the place where she wanted to take us out to lunch, the bloody place was gone. It was apparently a typical situation in Singapore, she said--places you used to visit suddenly packing up and leaving one day because of sky-high rent and cutthroat competition. At her suggestion, we trooped over to the Indian vegetarian place called Komala, where I ended up filching food from everybody else's plate because everything THEY ordered was so much better than mine. My nephew had wonderful bhattura, a puffed up bread dusted with some sugar, served with an assortment of vegetarian stews/sauces to dip it in. WHF had the paper dhosa, which was scrumptious with its potato filling. Hubby had a wonderful, aromatic biryani. I had lentil doughnuts. Don't ask.
We then hied off to the kitchenware place, where I was practically in throes of ecstasy just looking at all the choices of equipment I could get for my kitchen, as if I was a kid let loose in a toy store. Don't get me wrong, I do like shopping for clothes and shoes and other girly stuff, but give me a choice between trying on a dress or test-driving a chef's knife, and well...let's just say we would have stayed on in that kitchenware place far longer, with far more damage to my credit card, if it hadn't closed early. We saw a HUGE pie dish and I quipped that all I had to do was get onto it and holler, "Tart is served!"
Hubby, nephew and I went back to the hotel with my loot while WHF went off to her uncle's cafe where we would meet her for dinner. When we got there we saw that a beautiful carpet had been laid out on the side of the street. We ordered food while she smoked her shisha, the scent of which intrigued and captivated me, and while the aroma of the wonderful lamb meshwi hubby had ordered made my mouth water, everything else was forgotten when WHF stepped onto that carpet to dance.
I've seen "bellydancers" before in Manila and on TV ("bellydancing" not even an accurate term, said WHF, considering how every part of the body moved. She preferred to call it "Middle Eastern dance") but I was not prepared for the grace and sheer joy in dancing she exhibited. Was she good? Undoubtedly--and even to my untrained eye, I could tell she was superb (more on how I realized just how much better she was than other so called middle eastern dancers later). But what touched me, moved me more was that she put such passion, such soul into every move. She literally stopped traffic on the street, with cars backing up because every single one that passed by just braked in front of her with the driver watching for as long as he could. Pedestrians stopped in their tracks to watch. Tourists took her picture while she danced. And she did it for us. To say that I am humbled and honored by this wonderful gift she chose to share with us would be sheer understatement. She made this whole trip unforgettable.
We finally had wonderful Turkish coffee after we were sufficiently roused from our open mouthed wonderment to eat the food placed in front of us. Eventually we staggered back to our hotel at almost 2 AM again, still dazed and happy at the memory of that amazing, amazing night.
|
|
|
66
Comments
|
|
|
On Turning 40
|
May 6, 2008 10:17 am
4272 Views
|
My first day of being officially middle-aged, and I think back to things I wish I knew then that I know now, and things I've realized about myself and learned in the 40 years I've been a shining epitome of all that's prim and proper.
Did I hear someone chortle?
Moving along, I now share with you the wisdom culled from four decades of existence. I mean, if elricardo can give me enlightenment about attached blondes, I can definitely impart what I know of root perms.
Which would be--
Don't have one--I did it when I was 18 and I resembled The Bride Of Frankenstein on a bad hair day. A root perm is well, when they perm nothing but your roots. I succumbed to the temptation because boyfriend back then (the butt ugly lead guitarist) had rabid fantasies of turning me into his little Asian version of Nancy Wilson--well, if not her boobs, then at least her hair. The upside of this catastrophe was that I saved the ozone layer from further thinning because I didn't need any hairspray for the next few weeks to tease my hair up anymore--I looked like I had just stuck my finger in a socket.
High as my forehead is, if I did it now that I'm starting to develop lines on my forehead, I'd actually look worse than a Klingon with a receding hairline and a bad case of the frizzies.
Which is why I will always have bangs.
I'll never be a poet--I've also realized that I'm never going to be a Serious Writer, in the mold of, say, Salman Rushdie, or Edith Wharton, or Haruki Murakami, though I do enjoy reading them, and love how they craft sentences, brilliant in their wordplay, masters in their game. I string my sentences helter skelter as I think them, put them down on paper, and refuse to (because I'm a lazy bugger) edit.
I'm aiming for Nora Ephron now, minus the neck wattle.
I was born with them double chins, and I am gonna die with them double chins--In ten years I'll have double chins PLUS neck wattle, which will guarantee that Manila will suddenly have a shortage of turtlenecks. Of course they can't be very tight turtlenecks, otherwise I'd be walking around with triple chins. Maybe I should just wear a scarf, though it would look silly, especially in the summers.
Massaging my double chins downwards (which stubbornly stayed with me even at 88 lbs, and would probably take a cannula the size of a drainpipe to suck it all out if I ever considered liposuction) will not make that globule of fat migrate low enough to increase my cup size. With my luck, it'll most likely get stuck in the middle of my neck, making me resemble a trannie with a jiggly Adam's Apple.
Oh, and yes, always wear sunblock.
And no, I didn't just learn this much--but those were pretty much the highlights.
This pointless post was inspired by gowerboy's, only I haven't had a haircut yet.
|
|
|
128
Comments
|
|
|
Intermission
|
May 3, 2008 8:26 pm
3467 Views
|
Back from Singapore, but the pics haven't been uploaded onto my computer as yet, and nephew's supposed to put a band on all of our eyes before I post one of them, so in the meantime, a joke for all of you wonderful, prim, proper, upright, butter-can't-melt-in-your-mouth folks out there.
(OK, I went over the top, sorry)
Where Babies Come From
A teenage girl comes home from school and asks her mother.
"Is it true what Rita just told me? Babies come out of the same place where boys put their pen1ses?"
"Yes, dear," replies her mother, pleased that the subject had finally come up and she wouldn't have to explain it to her daughter.
"But then when I have a baby," the teenager pondered, "won't it knock all my teeth out?"
|
|
|
76
Comments
|
|
|
Heartwrung, Heartsick
|
Apr 26, 2008 10:28 am
3501 Views
|
I keep playing Iceblink Luck by Cocteau Twins, my make-me-happy-get-me-in-a-good-mood song.
It isn't working.
It's been a rough week for me, being with my best friend whose 2 year old boy, my godson, was in the hospital since Tuesday. He was just discharged today. I've been with them everyday, lending support as much as I can.
JT is my best friend's miracle baby, born after six years of waiting, their only child, their pride and joy, their dream come true. But the dream is turning into a nightmare. You see, JT was born with not just one, but two life-threatening heart conditions--one, called TGA, or Transposition of the Great Arteries, a cyanotic congenital heart disease where the primary arteries, the aorta and the pulmonary artery, are transposed, or switched. The other is a hole tucked deep into his heart, a condition called VSD, or Ventricular Septal Defect.
Normally, with TGA, a surgery is scheduled as early as possible, usually around 2-3 months after birth, to correct the defect. They couldn't do that with JT simply because the hole in his heart was too deeply tucked in that they needed him to grow up a little more.
So Tuesday, I pop in to visit my godson who was in the hospital to undergo cardiac catheterization, and was heartbroken to see how blue his lips, fingertips and toes were. Despite all this, he was in good spirits, breaking into such a beautiful smile when he saw the blue toy motorcycle I brought him. He kept trying to yank his IV tube off, though, and my best friend kept restraining him. When he fell asleep my law partner Gin, who also dropped by, and I dragged my best friend off to lunch, since her sister, sister-in-law and the boy's nanny were there watching over him anyway.
She looked haggard and worn, and we sat her down and made her eat. She told us about how JT, who's undergone more medical procedures than I have ever had in my lifetime kept freaking out every time he saw a doctor or a nurse, and how he kept screaming, "Why, Mommy, why???" while they were holding him down to try and insert an IV tube for the transfusion needed to thin his blood.
Wednesday and Thursday we kept waiting for his blood to stabilize enough so that cardiac catheterization could proceed. Eventually the procedure was scheduled yesterday, so I rushed to the hospital and made it in time to see JT about to be wheeled off. He was clinging tightly to his mother, whimpering, having an inkling that something was afoot. He looked terrified and my heart kept breaking. When they wheeled him into the Operating Room he kept screaming that he wanted to go home.
Eventually his cardiologist came out, and sighing heavily, told my best friend and the rest of us that JT's case was the hardest he'd ever encountered, and that the TGA procedure might not be able to wait anymore, despite the fact that he had that hole in his heart. So in May, when JT's surgeon from the US comes over, she and her husband would have to discuss it with him and decide if they would take the risk and schedule the operation already, even though his heart is still too small for that hole, which is tucked deep within, to be fixed.
I hate it when children suffer. I get a crisis of faith every time that happens. And for this to happen to a child my best friend and her husband waited six years for, only to risk losing him, seems like a cruel joke.
So I'll just play Iceblink Luck again, if you don't mind.
|
|
|
62
Comments
|
|
|
My Beautiful Mommy
|
Apr 23, 2008 6:25 am
3052 Views
|
Is it just me, or does anyone else think this sends a wrong message? Somebody please help me pick up my jaw from the floor, too--I dropped it while reading this article.
From ABC News
Kids' Book About Tummy Tucks, Nose Jobs
Plastic Surgeon Writes Book Explaining 'What Happened to Mommy'
By EMILY FRIEDMAN
April 18, 2008
Forget bedtime stories featuring "Winnie the Pooh" or "The Cat in the Hat"; one new children's book stars mommy — and her new nose job.
"My Beautiful Mommy," written by Florida-based plastic surgeon Dr. Michael Salzhauer, is billed by its author as the first book that explains plastic surgery to kids, an issue with which he says many of his patients struggle.
"More than half the women that come in for procedures bring their children with them," he said. "And most parents go into denial about the surgery with regard to their children."
"My Beautiful Mommy" focuses on a mother explaining an impending nose job and tummy tuck to her young daughter, who is scared that her mommy may look different. Mommy also undergoes a breast enhancement in the book, a fact depicted only through the illustrations so as not to get too graphic for child readers.
While some may jump to say that any tale about cosmetic surgery — breast, nose or tummy — isn't appropriate reading material for young kids, many members of the plastic surgery community are welcoming the new-age bedtime story. Some say they just wish they'd thought of the book idea first.
"It's a narrow niche, but there is a need for it," said N.Y.-based plastic surgeon Dr. Darrick Antell, who said he had considered writing a similar book before he heard about Salzhauer's. "There are patients who frequently will ask what they should tell their kids when they're bruised for a few days."
"Plastic surgery today is much more out of the closet than it was years ago, people are much more open about it," said Antell, who said he isn't concerned the book will send the wrong message to children. "While it's clearly not for everyone, when a person has decided they want to go ahead and improve their appearance, they want to introduce it into the family setting so the child won't be concerned."
Preparing For Mommy's Downtime
Salzhauer said the book can help families prepare for the recovery time women need after plastic surgery.
"When mom goes down everyone in the house is effected — especially the kids," said Salzhauer, who added that many kids get upset when their mother seems sick or too tired to play. "They know something is going on and she has bandages, so they start to ask, 'What's wrong with mommy?'"
That's exactly the question Salzhauer's book tries to answer, chronicling the journey of a mother and her child as they visit the fictional office of the fictional, strapping "Dr. Michael" for cosmetic surgery.
"Why are you going to look different?" asks the daughter of her mother in the car ride back from the doctor's office.
"Not just different, my dear — prettier!" exclaims the mother.
When prodded by her daughter as to why she's getting an operation — after all, the girl says, she's already "the prettiest mommy in the whole wide world" — the mom explains how her clothes don't fit properly anymore because of her stretched out stomach, presumably a result of childbirth.
By the end of the story, the mother's formerly wrinkled tummy and crooked nose are flat and straight and, despite never saying anything about her chest in the plot, the mother's breasts appear perkier too.
"I tried to avoid any graphic medical details because they'd go over the child's head and I think it's unnecessary," said Salzhauer of his whimsically written book, set to hit bookstores on Mother's Day. "She does get a bo_ob job, I skirt that issue because I think that's the parents' choice whether they want to address that particular part of the operation with their children."
Book Fills Void in Cosmetic Surgery Lit
Dr. Richard D'Amico, president of the American Society of Plastic Surgeons, told ABCNEWS that while some may find the message offensive, he thinks the book's text is quite realistic.
"More and more women when they're done having kids are saying, 'Hey wait a minute, I'm dieting and exercising but there are some things I can't do myself,'" said D'Amico. "I think the book [sends the message] that the surgeon is going to help mommy with some things she can't do alone."
However, D'Amico said the illustrations are definitely not ideal and may be more offensive than the plot line itself.
"I understand they are cartoon figures, but I thought that the mommy's breasts were just a little too big and she was a little too stylized," said D'Amico of the book's lead character, who wears belly-shirts and tight-fitting pants. "I would have liked it much better if mommy looked like a real person."
Does Book Glorify Surgery or Teach Lesson?
Not everyone is ready to recommend this book to their patients. Craniofacial specialist and reconstructive surgeon Dr. Pete Costantino told ABCNEWS that he doesn't think cosmetic surgery is a child-friendly topic.
"Children are still in the process of developing concepts of self-image and beauty and ugliness and so forth," said Costantino. "They're in a formative phase, and I don't think it's valuable to children to push aesthetic surgery in their face."
"It's something that is an adult decision and should be dealt with as such," Costantino added. "There is no great motivator for kids to know about this."
Image expert and psychologist Debbie Then told ABCNEWS that the book "mortified" her and could be potentially harmful to children.
"The whole idea of this book falls into the category of 'too much information for a child to comprehend,'" she said. "There is a concern that if we focus the attention of young children on this topic, we will encourage very young girls to start obsessing about their looks at an even earlier age than they already do."
"Beauty obsession is a societal problem, and as such, a tormenting topic for women of all ages," added Then. "So let the youngest members of our society read books about all sorts of topics, but please, not about mom's new bo_obs."
Wonder what's coming up next--"I Have 8 Moms Even Though My Dad Isn't Larry King"--a book for kids in polygamist sects?
|
|
|
38
Comments
|
|
|
This Is What Instant Karma Looks Like
|
Apr 20, 2008 10:40 am
3018 Views
|
*Picture is of A Flock Of Seagulls performing live
Saturday afternoon en route home, and we're passing by this huge billboard along Manila's main thoroughfare announcing a one-night-only-not-to-be-missed concert by A Flock Of Seagulls, with When In Rome and Real Life thrown in for good measure. I point it out to hubby and we both snicker, wondering at who on earth would waste good money watching middle-aged has-been new wavers.
To top it off, the concert was billed as "Lost 80s Live!!!"--which didn't seem promising at all. I mean, I liked it that the 80s got lost, with its shoulder pads and Aqua Net and horrid fashion. I wish it would stay lost. Who was the twit who went looking for it and found it anyway??
We were just having dinner when my cellphone rang. It was my good friend M, the wife of hubby's best friend P, and she was calling to say--
M: You've got to watch A Flock Of Seagulls with us now!!
Me: Eh?
M: Come on, you two---a good friend of ours sponsored the concert but couldn't make it, gave us FOUR tickets to the concert, free, and each of them cost Php2,500 (about US$60) so it would be such a waste if nobody used it.
Php2,500??? Somebody actually PAID good money to watch THAT concert??
Hubby was shaking his head, saying he had a headache, but P called him, too, and was saying that the concert hadn't even begun yet, even though it was already way past 8PM, the supposed starting time.
Me: Well? Real Life's there, and I do like Catch Me I'm Falling.
Hubby: You want to?
Me: Hey, it's free, what the heck, we're not doing anything anyway, right?
So off we went, to find P waiting for us at the venue lobby, taking a cigarette break. He hands us the tickets and off we go to find M inside. Just in time to catch When In Rome start their set. I look around. Wow, not anybody a shade below 35.
It was horrible.
For starters, it wasn't the original vocalist anymore, and while his back up band was pretty OK, he just ruined the whole thing. It was bad enough that he kept singing one obscure song after another, practically zonking out the entire audience, but when he finally got to the only song that most of the audience knew, which was The Promise, he just had to flub it. He was totally out of tune, sang the dang song way too high, so that when he got to the chorus he was practically screaming the lyrics out shrilly.
Jehosaphat, I whisper to hubby furiously--I hope Real Life's better than this.
Well, not by much.
It was kind of off-putting to realize that the "band"--and I use this term loosely--was only composed of the vocalist, who wasn't even the original one either (original one eventually became a lawyer, too--talk about irony), and he had to borrow When In Rome's backup band just so he could perform. He started his set with some obscure songs as well, but for some reason his guitar kept drowning out his voice, so that you could hardly hear the lyrics. When he finally did sing Catch Me I'm Falling, the audience was finally roused sufficiently to hoot and clap, with some standing up to dance. In fairness to the guy, he did sound almost like the original singer, so it wasn't that excruciating to watch him.
The opening act, some Filipino band whose name I didn't quite catch, went onstage during the intermission to play some games with the audience, giving away some gift packs from the ad sponsors. I was practically asleep by then. Whoever heard of games during a concert intermission?
Finally, A Flock Of Seagulls came on, and there were sporadic hoots and catcalls from the audience. Michael Score was still the vocalist, but hubby said Score's concert get-up reminded him of 60something expat retirees hanging out in Cebu with his yellow shirt and cap. His drummer, though, probably channeling some heavy metal fantasy, was shirtless. It didn't bode too well.
They were actually the best of the three, and when they finally played The More You Live The More You Love, the audience, already in a stupor after being bored witless with a line up of more obscure (again) original songs from the band (hubby and I were surfing the Net with our phones by then, P kept having cigarette breaks, M kept texting someone), managed to wake up sufficiently to show some token enthusiasm. Robust applause for the band after the song was done.
Then half of the audience started filing out.
As in, leaving.
And in less than 15 minutes, the entire coliseum was half empty. It was as if all that most of the audience was waiting for was THAT song, and when it was done, off they went.
Didn't even hang around for Space Age Love Song, I Ran and Telecommunication the way we did, the ingrates.
Eventually they concluded their set, and after a half-hearted burst of applause, we all got up to leave.
P was going, "Gee, I wouldn't even pay 500 (US$12.50) bucks to watch this."
I said, "You kidding?? I'm ruing the fact we had to shell out 40 bucks (about US$1) for parking!!!"
Now, get this--during the concert intermission they constantly announced the fact that Rick Astley was coming over to perform in Manila again.
Me, I've learned my lesson. I hereby solemnly promise never to so much as snigger if I ever see the billboard announcing Rick Astley's concert here.
God knows, I might find myself watching him, too.
|
|
|
48
Comments
|
|
|
Search Party, Or, Where's Jake?
|
Apr 16, 2008 9:01 pm
3220 Views
|
Anybody seen Jake, the Scotsman?
Haven't seen him around and am wondering where he's gone off to. Some theories abound--
1. He's hibernating in between slcplunkett's baldy blokes;
2. A giant squirrel grabbed him and made him part of its nut collection;
3. He's found religion in a jar of marmite after reading what gowerboy did with it;
4. He finally got arrested for those flashing belisha beacons;
5. He's enrolled himself in a 12 step program with Kiltlovers Anonymous;
6. He finally got abducted by a Giant Alien Chicken who got ticked off about his constant claims that chickens aren't real. He is now the subject of a lab experiment in a chicken galaxy 2500 light years away.*
Seriously though, anyone hearing from him, please tell him his hen Morag sends a hullo, and hope he's doing fine. We miss him round these parts.
*Only remembered to put this in after royalpurple talked about chickens--thanks Lei!
|
|
|
52
Comments
|
|
To link to this blog (MunchkinMatron2) use [blog MunchkinMatron2] in your messages.
|
|
|
| Sun |
Mon |
Tue |
Wed |
Thu |
Fri |
Sat |
| |
|
|
|
|
|
11
|
2
|
3
|
4
|
5
|
6
|
7
|
8
|
9
|
10
|
11
|
12
|
13
|
14
|
15
|
16
|
17
|
18
|
19
|
20
|
21
|
22
|
23
|
24
|
25
|
26
|
27
|
28
|
29
|
30
|
31
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
