JAMES GANNABAN | The Hyperactive Gay Boy™

FRESH SNOWBERRY MARTINI

2012-02-26T17:58:00.002+08:00

Facade of EZO365, our Niseko villa

Now you see it, now you don't.

My reflection on the window, whose view is completely blocked by snow.

It's so snowy in Niseko, skiers and boarders never really need to "Pray for Snow." It just happens, anyway. Everyday. All day. For almost a third of the entire year. 

It snows so much, peculiar things happen. Like, I start making martinis. 

OK, that was false reporting of the true progression of events. 

The real reason I was inspired to make martinis was, speaking with Hasashi and Ionna of Gyu+ inspired me so. The snowy-ness merely created the perfect excuse for us to stay home one night, hence, I had a captive audience for my meager attempt at mixology.

Our pantry contained only breakfast items such as egg, cereal, bread, etc. There were lots of chocolate and gummy candy from Marks & Spencer, but I hardly had the equipment to turn them into usable ingredients for a cocktail. Luckily we had a tray of fresh strawberries, a whole bottle of vodka and an ice maker.

I decided to make fresh strawberry martinis for everyone. Here's how it happened:

- I used a table spoon and a water glass to muddle the juicy berries 

- I added vodka (lots of it) and sugar

- I muddled everything again like a sociopathic madman until the berries were completely... mashed

- I threw in some tubes of ice, covered the mouth of the glass with a saucer, and started shaking like crazy - all the while keeping a palm tightly capped on the saucer to ensure that not a drop of my precious cocktail would spill. I was shaking so hard, I was practically convulsing. "This is how it must feel," I thought, "to have an epileptic seizure."

- I finally used a noodle strainer (the only kind we had) to take the ice out of the mixture.

- The result was a thick, pulpy, shake-y martini that I'd like to call "FRESH SNOWBERRY MARTINI." 

Hyperactive's Fresh Snowberry Martini

It was hardly a conventional martini, considering we didn't have gin or vermouth or strawberry syrup. But who cares about outdated martinis, anyway, when even James Bond likes "Shaken, not stirred" ?!? My crazy, desperate improvisation resulted in a cloudy, princessy-pink cocktail devoid of artificial colouring, with just enough sweetness and texture to tickle the tongue.

It was almost pure vodka, of course, which made us nice and loose and ready for a happening night out at the onsen, after all - snowstorm notwithstanding. 

But that's another story, for another day. 

TENNIS BALLS: Marat Safin

2012-02-26T15:13:00.001+08:00

Marat Safin is the hottest tennis player, like, maybe ever. We've featured him on Tennis Balls HQ before, but he's never had his own, dedicated blog entry. This is a gross omission for which we profusely apologize and now make amends. 

Ready?

Marry me, Marat.

I see... the future.

Me! Me! Me! Me massage Marat!

Yes, Marat?

Ooooh!

Aaaaaah!

Back on or take off completely?

Raw ability came through in his career as well as some power tennis. He possesses a powerful serve and effective groundstrokes, his backhand being his major weapon. Boris Becker, in '99, said that he had not seen anybody hit the ball as hard from both wings for "a long, long time."

Source

// Is it just me or was that passage vaguely... pornographic? //

The Diva Video of the Day® Shirley Horn / Our Love Is Here To Stay

2012-02-26T13:58:00.001+08:00

//

But, oh my dear,

Our love is here to stay.

Together we're

Going a long, long way

//

// BORACAY . Philippines //

The Diva Video of the Day® Whitney Houston / All At Once (LIVE on Belgian TV 1987)

2012-02-26T00:11:00.001+08:00

//

Holding on to memories

And it hurts me more than you know

So much more than it shows

All at once 

//

// LOYOLA HEIGHTS . Philippines //

Tennis Balls: A-ROD

2012-02-26T00:10:00.000+08:00

Andy, show us your... head.

Andy keeps his head down.

...but his head is now on its way up...

...and down again.

Roddick is known for frequent outbursts against umpires and linesmen on the court. His most notable outburst was during his third-round match at the Australian Open in 2008 where he abused umpire Emmanuel Joseph saying "You're an idiot! Stay in school kids or you'll end up being an umpire."

Source

// DEFINE 'HOTHEAD' //

PLEASED TO MEAT YOU

2012-02-26T00:08:00.005+08:00

Gyu+

Hisashi was speaking with a lady who looked very important when I arrived for my 3pm apointment to interview him, so I thought it best not to disturb.

"Alcohol supplier?" I asked Hisashi's vivacious wife, Ioanna, gesturing towards the female guest.

"Insurance agent," Ionna replied. "The wall behind the bar collapsed recently. The snow was too heavy."

The wall behind Gyu+ was made of glass, which gave the impression that the bartenders - in this case, the husband-wife tandem of Hisashi and Ioanna - created drinks against a dramatically panoramic winter backdrop.

We had visited Gyu+ the night before upon the instruction of a friend of Peter's, who has been to Niseko a number of times. "Go to the fridge door  bar," she said. "It's the best bar in Niseko."

I confess, now: I'm a bar snob. I'm a few drinks short of being clinically alcoholic. I inherited my love for cocktails from my mentor, the legendary impresario Colette Koo. I began a colourful career in nightlife at FINDS. I co-wrote with my insanely talented friend Antonio Lai an award-winning book on molecular mixology. The words "fridge door bar" made me cringe, mostly because it reminded me of the tacky Balalaika in Hong Kong, where guests would be made to wear nasty fur coats inside a sub-zero vodka room to drink nasty vodka. And so I kept my expectations fairly managed as we sought to find Niseko's "fridge door bar."    

Was I in for a pleasant surprise.

Walking into the entrance, which is made of - what else? - a fridge door, made me feel like a precious slab of meat on a  big night out. I wanted to Chill, Thaw and Immediately Enjoy.    

"Gyu" is Japanese for cow. It's half of the word that makes up the name of the world's most expensive beef, wagyu. "Gyu" is also an all-purpose verb for various familiar expressions of affection, such as squeeze, embrace or hug. Gyu+ a.k.a. "fridge door bar" successfully takes these two ideas to produce an unassumingly stylish hangout where, say, the eponymous bovines may enjoy a lifestyle of highly prescribed diet and treatment. The space is warm, welcoming and cozy. The design elements give the impression of having been collected over time. The business cards and menus are handmade. The cocktails are exquisitely complex.

Gyu+ has been around for 13 years, Ionna tells me. Hisashi Watanabe, a former ski instructor, built a house from a modest inheritance from his father, Ken Watanabe (no relation to the actor). But soon strapped for cash, the 24-year-old decided to turn the ground floor of his house into a bar.  

On her first season in Niseko, Canadian-born Ionna Morelli (who is of mixed Italian-Serbian-Greek heritage and speaks four languages) came to work for a building company. After two weeks of having met Hisashi, they got married. 

"Was it love-at-first-sight?" I teased.

Ionna nodded slightly, then turned her head away. "I'm blushing!"

Theirs was a match made in bohemian snow heaven. Hisashi and Ionna have been running Gyu+ together for six years now. They also started Pelican Burger in Kutchan town, which they open when Niseko's high tourist season winds down. They travel the world during the slow months of April, May and November. "We want to go to Brazil next," Ionna shares.

As we're chatting, Hisashi slices and pounds and shakes and pours away to create three of Gyu+'s signature cocktails for me.

JAPANESE OLD FASHIONED. Taketsuru 17 Years, Orange Bitters, Orange Twist. Y1500

The H Factor: Love the single, ginormous ice ball. It allows the whiskey to gently loosen up and reveal is sweet, smoky, spicy layers

7 SPICES HOT WINE. Wine, Spices, Honey, Dragon Eye. Y600

( The H Factor: Slightly sweet, delightfully herbaceous, fragrant and complex. Plus, that basket is irresistible 

UME MOJITO. Uguis Plum Liqueur, Fresh Mint, Fresh Lime, Soda, Crushed Ice. Y1000
 

The H Factor: Totally yum, bright and refreshing, super-easy to drink. The plum liqueur adds a welcome layer of sweet n' sourness that makes this amore intriguing drink than your run-of-the-mill mojito  

I couldn't wait to sample every cocktail after I had finished taking photos. Each was delicious. I had to remind myself to sip daintily and not to get too trashy; after all, I was on an assignment. Meanwhile, Ionna kept up a lively stream of anecdotes.

"Hisashi doesn't like saying it," Ionna intimated, "but he has been written about twice in the New York Times." 

I whistled in admiration as I struggled to set my Canon's self-timer. No way was I gonna leave Gyu+ without a souvenir photo of this too-cool-for-school couple. Hisashi and Ioanna are so cool, they don't even have hired help. They do everything themselves.

"What's your contribution to the menu?" I asked Ioanna. "Have any of your cocktails made it onto the list?"

"None," she replied brightly. "I'm just in-charge of the Cocktail of the Day. Today, it's Espresso Martini. I just take the recipes from this book," she said, opening a large, heavy volume to a drawing of a gloriously naked geisha.

I, self-proclaimed bar snob, am a Gyu+ believer. 

Best bar in Niseko? 

Indeed.

But not just. 

Probably amongst the best in the world.

The Diva Video of the Day® Black Box / Everybody Everybody

2012-02-24T23:24:00.001+08:00

//

Everybody, everybody

Everybody, everybody

Everybody, everybody

Everybody, everybody

//

// LAMMA. Hong Kong //

TENNIS BALLS: Michaël Llodra

2012-02-24T23:04:00.002+08:00

Nice... necklace!

Nips. Nips. Bite.

It's a bit bright down there, I mean, around here, isn't it?

"Does it still work?"

Michaël Llodra (born May 18, 1980) is a French professional tennis player. He is a prolific doubles player with three Grand Slam championships.

// LLODRAMTASTIC. //

HONG KONG VALENTINE'S

2012-02-24T19:31:00.003+08:00

Valentine's dinner at Château Maggie

After a two-month period of exile, I returned to Hong Kong - my beloved "City on Crack." I was scared and insecure, because what if I couldn't recognize the city anymore? What if the city couldn't recognize or love ME anymore?

Yeah, I have issues. Mostly, I have a desperate need to be liked. It's sick. I've worked my butt off to know everything about Hong Kong so that I could launch a charm offensive on the city and her infamously manic denizens. But just when I thought I was finally getting somewhere - owning Mr Gay Hong Kong, writing a column for the monthly LGBT magazine, love, friendship, career - the city fucking kicks me out. I get deported. 

So of course I was scared shitless about coming back.

It's a bit easier to forget about life, in general, whilst one is in exile in beautiful locales. Singapore! Sorsogon! Sapporo! But when life looms large once again after a final (hopefully) confrontation with intimidating Immigration officers at the border, there's little else to do to stay distracted.

I hid myself, never spoke with anyone, kept my hyperactive mouth shut. I studiously ignored e-mail, Facebook, my phone, everything. 

It was an epic effort. I'm a multimedia whore. 

But on Valentine's Day, I had to come out. Literally. It was my first day of work. 

I had to prove to this city that I really, really wanted to be here. That I fucking belong here.

I survived my first day of work, to my relief. No emotional meltdown whatsoever, despite that I must have moved around like I was walking on eggshells. I'm just about the loudest, most un-subtle person I know.

It was an epic effort. I'm a multimedia whore. 

Chris was away on a work trip, which was kind of a relief. I didn't have to deal with the pressure of being anyone's charming Valentine's dinner date.       

Except Hong Kong's, my beloved "City on Crack."

I marched towards 7-11. I grabbed two Carlsberg King Cans. I downed both quickly, thirstily. I waved a cab down. I joined my friends for dinner at Château Maggie.

And I immediately collapsed.

Just like old times.

Hong Kong, I love you.

The Diva Video of the Day® Barbra Streisand / If I Loved You

2012-02-22T09:19:00.000+08:00

//

If I loved you,

Words wouldn't come in an easy way

Round in circles I'd go!

//

// SAIGON . October 2008 //

OSCAR HUNKS

2012-02-22T09:08:00.003+08:00

OK, I personally do not consider someone who played "Sirius Black" a hunk, although many others undoubtedly do. But for purposes of honouring the Academy Award nominees for Actor in a Leading Role, let's pretend for a hot second that, indeed, they all have old-skool "movie star" looks. At the end of the day, isn't that what this is all about - suspension of disbelief?

Who's your daddy?

Let's begin!

Demián Bichir, A Better Life

Jean Dujardin, The Artist

George Clooney, The Descendants

Gary Oldman, Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy

Brad Pitt, Moneyball

// FUCKING GORGEOUS. //

Image Sources

Demián Bichir

Jean Dujardin

George Clooney

Gary Oldman

Brad Pitt 

The Diva Video of the Day® India Arie / Purify Me

2012-02-21T17:30:00.001+08:00

//

Easy like sunday morning, 
like an angel callin 
he's taking me all in,

I'm embracing him with my skin, like a pillar of light 
a vision of light 
and he's so perfect that I couldnt picture him if I tried...

//

 // SURALAI . Koh Samui Private Villa //

PERMANENT RESIDENT?

2012-02-21T17:22:00.003+08:00

“Fourteen days,” I requested.

“You are only allowed a maximum of 14 days per month. You’ve used all up up,” she pointed out inconsequentially.

“Seven days?” I bargained.

“You have already been given an SCL stamp,” she said

“What does SCL mean?”

“Short Conditional Landing.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s like a departure order.”

I felt the blood drain off my face. After six and a half years in Hong Kong, it all comes down to this – a work visa that wasn’t renewed in time for me to be able to stay or go as I choose to. Visa runs were clearly not an option, as I had found out a few days prior, when I was told upon re-entering from Macau that I wasn’t any more allowed to “just hang out in Hong Kong with my friends while I try to figure out what to do next.”

I should have relished the experience of having been apprehended as though I were a common criminal. It was pimp. Border guards, the interrogation room, the works. You can’t buy an experience like that. Why the fuck would you want to?? The only consolation was, the border guard assigned to interrogate me was tall, dark and handsome. Downside was, he’s young and eager – I’d guess about 25 – and had an ironclad belief in the rulebook as though it were the Holy Bible.

“How much money do you have?”

“A lot,” I snapped. I then realized that it probably wasn’t wise to antagonize a border guard – duh! – who alone had the power to either let me through or not.

“I have money,” I said a little more meekly. “It’s mostly in the bank but I do have some on me now.”

“Show me,” he challenged.

Lucky I had about HKD5,000 in bills stuffed in my wallet. So I showed him.

“Five days, then,” he said, making a note on a piece of paper.

But five days weren’t nearly enough, especially with the upcoming Christmas and New Year holidays. That’s why I had to make a pilgrimage to the Immigration Tower in Wan Chai to beg for a further extension so Chris and I could be together during the festive season.

“Five more days,” I pleaded the female officer who had been assigned to my case. “Please. I really just… want to be here for Christmas and New Year…” It was all I could say or do to stop myself from openly weeping at her feet.

For a hot second, I thought I saw cracks in her stony countenance.

“Three days,” she acquiesced gruffly, “so you and your girlfriend can have a Merry Christmas.” She smiled thinly. “Okay?”

Girlfriend?! I must have looked really butch with my desperate appeals for a visa extension.

“Okay…” I whispered with a measure of relief. I do get to spend Christmas with Chris but not New Year’s Day. “Thank you,” I said, smiling weakly back at her.

“Counter 28, other side,” she directed. “Just pay the visa extension fee.”

I was a mixed bag of emotions. All things considering, I think I was treated with kindness. At the border a few days ago, some mainland Chinese guys were full-on handcuffed during interrogation, same time as myself. They had full security watching over them. Meanwhile, I was pretty much left alone, pretending to nonchalantly read my trashy thriller paperback whilst my interrogating officer consulted with his peers on how to best treat my case. I’ve been a long-term resident, I’ve always paid my taxes on time, and they could plainly see on my passport that I do travel a lot. I knew I didn’t have any reason to be scared, but in that situation – at that very moment – I was practically nowhere.

And so that’s how it came to be that I am in The Cockpit. In many cockpits, in fact, as I lose myself all around Asia in order to (hopefully) find myself and, perhaps, find some sense of purpose and balance and renewed vigour for life, somewhere along the way.

First Published in Dim Sum Magazine, February 2012 Issue

THE BODYGUARD: KEVIN COSTNER

2012-02-20T16:57:00.006+08:00

Source

Kevin Costner should be penalized for giving us the monstrosity that was Waterworld, honestly.

But since we're still on a Whitney lovefest, we'll give dear, old Kevin a pass and pay tribute to him, instead, for the Hollywood beefcake he once was.

In all fairness, he really was a bona fide hottie. No wonder dearl, old Whit couldn't help but sing, "I wanna run to yoooooooooou...." etc.

Ready?

Here we go. 

Source

Source

Source

Source

//

“I let her down. I should have been there, and I wasn't. And now for the rest of my life I will have to live with that pain. I saved her then, I should have saved her now. She was my one true love. I still have I Will Always Love You as my ringtone, and I count it a badge of honour every time I get mocked for it."

//

The Diva Video of the Day® Whitney Houston & George Michael / If I Told You That

2012-02-20T10:40:00.002+08:00

//

(If I told you that) I wanted to see you

(And if I told you that) I beg to please you

(If I told you that) I'll always keep you

What would you say (if I told you that)

//

Hundreds of mourners, among them Tyler Perry, Mary J. Blige, Kevin Costner, Clive Davis, Dionne Warwick, Alicia Keys and Newark mayor Cory Booker attended the private funeral, which started shortly after noon.

Houston's ex-husband, Bobby Brown, who vowed to be there in support of their 18-year-old daughter, Bobbi Kristina, arrived at the church but left shortly thereafter. Brown was spotted being consoled by fellow mourners before leaving. Although there were reports that Brown was not permitted inside the building, Brown subsequently released a statement saying that he and his children had been asked to change seats several times and that he was prevented from seeing Bobbi Kristina, and thus "departed as I refused to create a scene."

Source

// THREE HYPER-HOMO CHEERS FOR WHITNEY. 
THE PARTY LIVES ON. //

Hello, HK!

2012-02-14T06:06:00.000+08:00

//

I <3 HK

I'M :)) TO BE BACK.

//

AN EPIC EULOGY FOR THE EPIC MISS WHITNEY

2012-02-13T23:32:00.003+08:00

Whitney Houston by David LaChapelle

Yesterday I started writing a eulogy to Whitney Houston. I was surprised that it affected me as much as I did. I hadn't even met her, never got a chance to press her flesh. Anyhow, my first draft of eulogy for Whitney got too dolorous and cliche and silly when all I wanted to say, really, was "R.E.S.P.E.C.T!" to Whitney Houston for having accomplished superhuman feats of vocal virtuosity. And along the way, she us brilliant flashes of inspiration. Every  kid still wants to sing "I Will Always Love You" in every TV singing  contest. Every drag queen still wants to be some sort of incarnation of  Whitney in "The Bodyguard," with Kevin Costner on the side.     

Whitney's death was as nebulous as you'd expect a music legend's to be. She was alone, at The Beverly Hilton, mere hours before she was scheduled to appear at a pre-Grammy gala. The timing couldn't have been better if it were staged. 

The only buzzkill (pun not intended) was the pesky persistence and utter predictability of substance abuse or overdose, prescription or otherwise. She has been against her substance-related issues publicly for a while now, so unless there's a new spin, there's no story.

If we're going down the road of speculation, can we not show more respect by being more creative, at least? Why not speculate something wildly audacious, instead? Something that would honour Whitney's cockiness and fire and sex appeal. Rehashing a stale and drawn-out story on maybe or maybe not substance abuse has zero narrative value as a possible ending to the story of Whitney's life. Strike the idea. Whitney was the Queen of the Charts, the Queen of High Notes, the Queen of the Night, The Queen of the Nile, The  Queen of an Oscar Winning Theme Song, the Queen of my fucking village.  Nobody becomes a bona fide Diva until the homosexuals proclaim her so.  And Whitney, who was every inch a Drama Queen, had tons of cred with the gays.

And so, to express my personal sense of loss for someone who was a musical treasure of humanity, in general, I'm presenting an entire week's worth of Whitney Diva Videos.

Astron's Top 5 Rundown™ 

of Favourite Whitney Houston Live Performances  

05 WHEN YOU BELIEVE / 1999 ACADEMY AWARDS

WHITNEY HOUSTON AS MUSIC LEGEND.

SHE WAS A QUEEN OF POP, QUEEN OF THE CHARTS, QUEEN OF THE NIGHT, QUEEN OF THE NILE, QUEEN OF AN OSCAR WINNING THEME SONG, QUEEN OF EVERYTHING. 

THE WHITNEY HOUSTON - MARIAH CAREY DUET WAS A MUSICAL COUP, THE LIKES OF WHICH REMAIN UNMATCHED. IT WAS WIDELY ANTICIPATED TO BE A BATTLE BETWEEN THE BEST BELTERS IN THE BUSINESS. I HONESTLY DREADED IT 'COZ I FEARED THE VERY LIKELY POSSIBILITY THAT THE SONG WOULD BECOME NOTHING BUT A RACE TO MAKE THE MOST COMPLEX RUNS AND A FIGHT TO HIT THE HIGHEST NOTES.

WHITNEY'S VOCAL POWER HAD PERCEPTIVELY ERODED FROM YEARS OF MORE-THAN-AVERAGE WEAR AND TEAR. YET, EVEN IN THE LATER STAGES OF HER CAREER, SHE DELIVERED A CONFIDENTLY EXPRESSIVE PERFORMANCE THAT MATCHED - IF NOT EXCEEDED - MARIAH CAREY'S. IT WAS A DELIGHT TO SEE WHITNEY PLAY UP HER ROLE AS "MUSIC LEGEND" RATHER THAN SLUG IT OUT AGAINST MARIAH IN A TACKY SCREAM-FEST THAT NOBODY WOULD WANT TO LISTEN TO.

PROPS TO BOTH LADIES FOR HAVING KEPT THEIR CRED INTACT AND EMERGING ALL THE BETTER FROM THE SHARED EXPERIENCE. 
        
THIS CEMENTED WHITNEY'S PLACE IN HISTORY AS THE BENCHMARK FOR EVERYONE ELSE WHO SINGS, IN GENERAL.

04 ALL THE MAN THAT I NEED / 1991

WHITNEY HOUSTON AS A SUPERSTAR.

THIS IS CLASSIC WHITNEY, AS I'D LIKE TO REMEMBER HER: EXPRESSIVE, CHARISMATIC, GENEROUS, SUBLIME, AND IN PERFECT CONTROL OF THE MOMENT.

WHITNEY UNDERSTOOD HER RESPONSIBILITY TO HER FANS PERFECTLY: SHE SHAMELESSLY FED OFF OF THEIR ADORATION; THEY GREEDILY FED OFF OF THE LIGHT OF HER SUPERSTARDOM.

03 I HAVE NOTHING / 1994 SOUTH AFRICA

WHITNEY HOUSTON AS A DIVA 

(WITH ALL THE ESTEEM AND BAGGAGE THAT THE TITLE BEARS).

COCKY. DANGEROUS. SLURRING HER WORDS AND GLIDING IN HEAD-TO-TOE GOLD LIKE A (FABULOUS) DRUNK ACROSS THE STAGE. IN REALITY, SHE WAS WOBBLING ACROSS A HIGH-WIRE ACT THAT COULD HAVE EITHER REINFORCED HER GENIUS OR HERALDED HER SPECTACULAR FALL FROM GRACE. 

THIS WAS AUDACITY ON THE PRECIPICE OF INSANITY.

SHE WAS LUCKY TO HAVE HAD ENOUGH PRESENCE OF MIND TO AT LEAST FINISH THE NUMBER.

SHE MADE IT, BUT BARELY.

AND THEN KAZAKHSTAN HAPPENED.

02 SAVING ALL MY LOVE FOR YOU / 1985 THE DAVID LETTERMAN SHOW

WHITNEY HOUSTON AS A PRODUCT.

WHITNEY HAD AN INSTANT EMOTIONAL CONNECTION WITH HER AUDIENCES, WHICH SHE PARLAYED INTO YEARS OF LOYAL FOLLOWING. SHE WAS SEXY AND YOUNG AND BEAUTIFUL. SHE WAS KIND OF IN WITH THE COOL CROWD, TOO, BECAUSE SHE WAS SO INSANELY TALENTED, IT WAS NUTS. 

SHE DIDN'T HAVE ANY COMPETITION.

SHE WAS KNOWN AS THE "BLACK BARBIE" - A MASS-MARKET PRODUCT WITH PERFECT  DESIGN, PACKAGING, PRICE, DISTRIBUTION, AUXILIARY REVENUE STREAMS. SHE  WAS "SAVING ALL MY LOVE" IN EVERY LIVING ROOM IN AMERICA. 

SHE WAS MARKETING MAGIC.

(PARIS HILTON'S OTHERWISE COMPETENT MARKETING STRATEGISTS ASSUMED THAT THEY COULD EASILY TAKE PARIS ON A SIMILAR ROUTE. THEY PACKAGED THE HEIRESS AS SOME KIND OF A "PRINCESS DIANA SLASH MARILYN MONROE OF THE NEW MILLENNIUM" - A GOLDEN GIRL OF THE MASSES. EXCEPT EVERYONE KNEW THAT PARIS WASN'T B ANY STRETCH A COMMONER; SHE BELONGS TO A DEEPLY ENTRENCHED AMERICAN ARISTOCRACY THAT COUNTS THE VANDERBILTS AND THE KENNEDYS AND THE HILTONS. WHAT KIND OF A BIG, FAT AND GROSS LEAP OF IMAGINATION DID THEY EXPECT THE PUBLIC TO TAKE? PEOPLE ARE SMART ENOUGH TO SNIFF A FISHY GIMMICK. THE CAMPAIGN BOMBED BECAUSE PARIS HILTON DOESN'T POSSESS ANY OF THE INTRINSIC VALUES THAT WERE KEY TO MARILYN MONROE'S AND PRINCESS DI'S MAGIC. SHE REFLECTS NOTHING OF THE BELOVED CLASSICS - CERTAINLY, SHE DOESN'T HAVE ANYTHING NEW TO OFFER, EITHER - THAT'S WORTH AN UPDATE. SHE SHOULD FOCUS ON SELLING HER PERFUMES AND REAL ESTATE. THERE, HER FAMILY NAME HAS INTRINSIC BRAND VALUE. I DIGRESS. SORRY ABOUT THE LONG FOOTNOTE.) 

01 ONE MOMENT IN TIME / 1989 THE 31ST GRAMMY AWARDS

WHITNEY AS A GODDESS.

THEME SONG OF THE 1988 SUMMER OLYMPICS, "ONE MOMENT IN TIME" WAS WHITNEY'S DEFINITIVE POWER BALLAD. IT WAS HAD A TRIED AND TESTED FORMULA OF SOARING, SEARING AND SAPPY DISTINCTLY "INSPIRATIONAL" FEEL TO EXPRESS THE TRIUMPH OF HUMANITY OVER ADVERSARY. ITS ORCHESTRAL SWEEPS, BIG-SONG MELODY AND A GINORMOUS KEY CHANGE TOWARD THE END SHAMELESSLY SOLICIT A STANDING OVATION.

WHITNEY MADE IT WORK. SHE SURE SOLD IT LIKE IT WAS NOBODY'S BUSINESS. IT WAS HER 10TH TOP 10 HIT ON THE BILLBOARD HOT 100. IT WON AN EMMY AWARD, BUT ULTIMATELY, WHITNEY LOST THE FEMALE POP VOCALS GRAMMY AWARD TO TRACY CHAPMAN'S "FAST CARS."

WHITNEY, CLAD IN ALL THE TRAPPINGS OF OLYMPIC GLORY, WAS AND ALWAYS WILL BE A BEAUTIFULLY MORTAL GODDESS.

//

WE COULDN'T RIGHTLY EXPECT DEAR, OLD WHIT TO LIVE OUT OUR DRAMATIC FANTASIES FOR AS LONG AS WE WANT. EVEN CHER HAS HAD ENOUGH OF HER OWN DRAMA, SHE'S MOVED ON TO CHAZ'S, INSTEAD.

WHITNEY HOUSTON HAS DONE HER FAIR BIT, AND THEN SOME. SHE WAS A HOT, SWEATY MESS TIL THE END OF HER DAYS. SHE WAS A *PROPER* DIVA - NOT JUST FOR THE DAY BUT FOR THE REST OF TIME, NATCH. 

ALL PEOPLE DIE EVENTUALLY.

BUT OLD LEGENDS LIVE FOREVER.

R.I.P. WHITNEY. 

I WILL ALWAYS LOVE YOU.
 // 

CROTCHZILLA

2012-02-13T12:22:00.000+08:00

GUESS WHOSE CROTCH LOOMS LIKE A MONSTROUS BULGE OVER MANHATTAN?

DAVID BECKHAM

// POSH, YOU'RE A VERY LUCKY GIRL. YES, YOUR ARE. //

The Diva Video of the Day® Queen Of Vagina x COME AND GO

2012-02-12T08:06:00.002+08:00

//

2 + 2 is vagina,

vagina

and vagina.

//

The H Factor 

- COME AND GO is a slick, sweet and shockingly steamy read. 

- It's like the "Dear Penthouse Letters," 
but with more lesbian characters than usual.

- The writing is light but lucid, 
expertly flirting with rosy-eyed romance but yanking the reader back to stark reality with accurate and assertive timing. 

It's how I always imagined lesbian lovemaking to be.

(Did I really just say that?)

- Lee Harlem Robinson is a dramatic, gruff, funny, sexy, scrappy and immensely likeable heroine.
 
// Lee Harlem Robinson's

COME AND GO

Launch Party 

Thursday, 16 February 2012

Program Host:
The Hyperactive Gay Boy™ //

POLITICAL BALLS: George W Bush

2012-02-12T08:05:00.001+08:00

George W Bush proudly thrusts a "military aid package" from the people of the United States of America.

// HAPPY SUNDAY. //

A-Bu-Cha!

2012-02-12T08:00:00.002+08:00

ABUCHA.

That's  the singular refrain on everybody's lips when the topic of food in  Niseko comes up. Doesn't matter whom you ask - locals, expat ski  instructors, even seemingly clueless tourists.

It's easy to say and easy to remember.

"Go-To-A-Bu-Cha." 

"Find-A-Bu-Cha."

"Drink-Plum-Wine-At-A-Bu-Cha."

"Order-Hot-Pot-In-A-Bu-Cha." 

"Don't-Miss-A-Bu-Cha."

It's an incantation. A magic spell. It's as though Abucha's secret  ingredients have been sprinkled by fairies on Niseko's powdery snow, so that everyone who sets foot on it gets brainwashed immediately.

Abucha First

"A-Bu-Cha..." the night receptionist for the Ezo villas chanted, by way of greeting. She was telling us to go. Now. For a drink, for a bite, for whatever. She said it hypnotically. 

So of course we had to go. We didn't want to nix our entire holiday by being the stupid tourists who didn't do what had to be done.

We hurriedly dropped our luggage off at the villa, then looked for Abucha First  - home to a legendary plum wine. The place is loud and filled with a  manic energy. Staff zip around so quickly, the cooks and servers are  nothing but a blur. 

It  is tight, with patrons seated shoulder-to-shoulder. Snow from the next guy's collar was melting onto my  camera. He was complaining loudly, in Cantonese, about his mother-in-law. 

Pity  I can't say what I thought about the plum wine. I drank it too quickly.  I was so thirsty, I had to be stopped from "drinking" the snow off the  ground just 30 seconds ago. After over 24 hours of travel, I bet you'd  be dehydrated, too. 

We  also ordered a plate of chicken wings. Our eyes popped when they  arrived. They must have come from obese chickens. I immediately succumbed to  heart-tugging hallucinations when the cholesterol entered my blood  stream. 

Mad props to Abucha for knowing the most pleasurable ways to help guests fend off the bitter cold.

Abucha Second

"A-Bu-Cha..." chanted Yuki with a glazed look in her eyes when I asked her to recommend a restaurant for a nice dinner.

"Cool! Abucha it is for dinner tonight, then!" I chirped.

As it happened, Allen had already made a booking for us at Abucha upon the insistence of another local. So it was a no-brainer, really.

Abucha Second is Abucha First's bigger and more badass sibling. Every single member of the staff is so cool, they put Niseko's sub-zero temperatures to shame. 

Our  server was young, lippy and faultlessly efficient. She had on the  cutest pink Dr. Seuss socks and the brightest, radiactive-green Crocs I  have ever seen. Her needle-straight blonde hair fell all the way down to  her waist. I imagined that she had special powers. How else could she  have started the fire on our hotpot by simply snapping her fingers?? And  when the soup was just hot enough to cook all the ingredients through,  she snapped her fingers again and ::poof!:: the fire went out! Wouldn't wanna get on her bad side; she was my bestie all throughout dinner.

There are over 400 drinks in Abucha Second's bar menu. 

I can only describe the restaurant's design as "Japanese contemporary rustic." Abucha Second is a see-and-bee-seen type of venue that successfully engages the nuanced dialectic between warm and welcoming versus intimidating and snobbish. It's a style see-saw that Abucha tips confidently in its favour by punching up the atmosphere with enough fun elements (such as DIY scallops-on-the-shell) that tip the balance in its favour. It's a style cred that will survive in any big city in the world. In fact,  we heard practically every language imaginable - including Swahili -  whilst we were having dinner. I spoke a few sentences in Filipino just  to represent, coz there's a puzzling absence of my brown brethren in  Niseko. I had always assumed that Filipinos were everywhere??

Abucha Second is where the beautiful people come to eat, and they gladly pay eye-watering prices to match.     

"Disney Japan," was Chris' succinct summary of Abucha Second - a sleek and sensuously engineered ("Imagineered?") experience.

Abucha Bakery & Cafe

"A-Bu-Cha..." the lady selling lift passes at the Mountain Centre intoned when I asked where I may grab a quick and easy breakfast in Niseko.

Of course. 

How come I didn't already know that??

I set out to explore the village with my enormous camera bag, like every self-respecting Asian tourist, as though my five layers of clothing weren't enough to completely cripple my mobility. I just had to suck it up. I was on a mission to complete the Abucha trifecta before I left Niseko. Failure wasn't an option.

Abucha Bakery & Cafe is annexed to Abucha First. It is my favourite of the three. The heady aroma of bread and coffee and butter and grease and BACON all but made me weep with hunger and delight and excitement and ecstasy. It hit all my olfactory G-spots bang-on, all at the same time. I hadn't realized until then how truly... sexual the sense of smell is. It made me from my scalp all the way down to my toes, even through all my layers of clothing.

I must confess to sinful thoughts as soon as I laid eyes on the breads. They looked pornographic in the same way that a slick and oiled Playgirl centrefold does. I wanted to grab and pinch and slobber and bite and worship everything. It was disgusting; I was having foreplay with pastries.

The bread baskets have labels that indicate the next time a fresh batch is served. You can then decide whether or not you can stave off your horniness, sorry, hunger, long enough to enjoy the stuff that's fresh from the oven. 'Coz there's no point eating stale leftovers when a bit more patience rewards you with the good stuff, right?           

I had chicken-and-egg in a spicy sauce, deliciously sandwiched between slices of firm, fleshy, fragrant bread.    

Coffee was served in a rough clay cup that elevated the earthy sensuality of the hot, dark elixir into some kind of heaven.

I had multiple food orgasms on the spot and I had nothing to wipe it with except... my merino wool skull cap. Except it's not really mine; it's Chris'. I'm sure he'll understand.   

Thank you, God.

All together, now:

A-BU-CHA. 

The Diva Video of the Day® Nicole Scherzinger / The Phantom Of The Opera (LIVE at the Royal Variety Show)

2012-02-11T10:42:00.000+08:00

//

In all your fantasies, you always knew

that man and mystery . . .

. . . were both in you . . .

//

// AN INVINCIBLE TRUTH //

TENNIS BALLS: Intimately Yours

2012-02-11T10:39:00.000+08:00

Berdych is buzzin'

Rafa gets a massage...

...and another one.

Andy likes massages, too, as evidenced by his... uhm... tennis ball.

Wawrinka: "My turn yet?"

// KNOCK KNOCK.
 MAY I COME IN? //

BLIZZARD

2012-02-11T07:25:00.007+08:00

Hyperactive and his snowboard

The snowboarding neophyte and his superstar mentor

I love Hanazono!

Loose screws need love, too.

"I'm done," I told Chris. "I've had enough. This is not for me. I'm going back home."

"Home" is Ezo 365, our villa in Niseko.

"I thought you were having fun?" Chris said.

"I was," I agreed. "Yesterday. But not today, on a steeper slope, by myself. I can't do it."

"Practice," Chris suggested helpfully. "It's the only way for you to get better. Keep at it."

OK. I consider myself a fairly adventurous person. There are only two things in life that I fear: Frogs and Boredom. No, three. I also fear being a burden to anyone. I'm much too proud and sensitive. It sucked whenever my snow bunny friends would discuss which part of the mountain to take on next, but oh, hang on - will James be able to handle it? I was an awful lot of dead weight to lug around; it made me sick.

A winter vacation is expensive. It's a project you save up for all year, if not more. Getting yourself to snobbish ski resorts - located in parts of the world where there aren't a whole lot of people and therefore aren't on the route of your favourite budget airline - will immediately zap your bank balance. Accomodation, ski / snowboard equipment, daily access to lifts, absurdly overpriced food and drinks, some shopping if you're lucky... It's a commitment.

And so I felt awful knowing that I was keeping my friends, who have poured buckets of resources into this holiday, from doing the exciting runs that were matched to their skill and experience. Why did I have to insist on coming along?

WHAT THE FUCK WAS I THINKING?!

If this were the game of Survivor, I'd be the first one voted off the island!

"James, the tribe has spoken..."    

"I don't want to be a burden to anyone," I said with as little feeling as possible. Chris' pity was the last thing I needed. "You guys go ahead and do your thing. I'll go do my own thing. I'll take the camera and shoot photos around the village."

"But this is exactly the point when you have to keep trying," Chris pushed. "It's the only way you'll get better 'til you get to the point when you can actually do stuff on your own. I always assumed you'd spend a fair amount of time lounging around at home with your computer - but don't just throw the rest of the holiday away!"  

"This is my holiday, too," I countered. "I have to be having fun, too, right? You guys are having fun. I'm not. I'm unhappy that I'm scared of crashing on the slopes! I couldn't even get up on my board 'coz it was so steep up there! I'm embarrassed that you guys worry about me, considering how much money everyone paid to go on this vacation! So this is not fun for me. Not at all. I'd rather go around the village to gather some decent material for my blog!"

Phew. 

Day 2 in Niseko and already, my inner drama queen broke free - even contained by five solid layers of clothing! Yuck, yuck, yuck.

By the way, this tragicomic exchange between myself and Chris happened at the foot of the Mountain Centre, right where everyone queues up to take the chair lift. I couldn't have picked a better place to have a hyperactive meltdown.

"We've all been where you are," Chris tried again. "It's a confidence thing. Perhaps it wasn't best to set you off alone on an unfamiliar slope first thing today, so your confidence is shot. But please give it one more try. You don't need to be doing this all day. You can take the afternoon off to take photos, if you decide that that's what you'd rather do."

I hung my head in defeat. I had run out of arguments. 

"Wanna go on the chair lift together?" Chris invited, gently taking my hand. Even through the thick gloves, I could feel his warmth. How could I possibly refuse?   

I nodded weakly.

A few runs down what I call the "Baby Slope" - because it is literally ruled by impossibly athletic skiing babies, damn them - was just what I needed to restore my mojo. I must have crashed 48 times only, which was an improvement from the previous day. I could manage to snowboard backwards because I only knew how to use my toe-side edge. I hadn't yet learnt to use my heel-side edge.        

Enter my friend, Greg, to the rescue. For the next few days, through sunshine and snow to full-on blizzard, Greg was by my side to esnure that the captain of the Philippine snowboarding team learnt to fully control both edges of the snowboard. 

Greg, at his ripe old age of (CENSORED), is a real daredevil snow bunny.  Should we all be so blessed as to grow old as gracefully. Amen. 

I was able to do two intermediate runs on Hanazono before Greg was finished with me. But I still couldn't do jumps. And cliffs. And trees. I just get spooked and panicky, then, my snowboard refuses to budge an inch. That's when Greg knows to maul me off my butt and kick me into gear. Thanks, Greg!

And thanks to Peter and Allen, who, with unqualified encouragement and support, made me feel like a star pupil. I love my friends.

"Thanks for persevering," Chris whispered into my ear as the gang enjoyed an après-ski cup of hot chocolate. Then he threw the same annoyingly irresistible, heartmelting, snow-melting, bajillion-dollar smile that made me fall in love with him almost five years ago.

ASIAN FIT goggles - coz we simply don't have the massive nosebridge to keep this up, otherwise.

BE SMART!

Hanazono Cafe

I deserve to eat.

Is there such a thing as too much snow?

// HANAZONO //

The Diva Video of the Day® Sara Bareilles / Gravity

2012-02-10T23:50:00.000+08:00

//

You loved me 'cause I'm fragile.

When I thought that I was strong.

But you touch me for a little while and all my fragile strength is gone... 

//

// Otaru Music Box Museum //

TENNIS BALLS: Oops.

2012-02-10T23:46:00.001+08:00

Rod-dick

Boner-teau

CAPTION THIS!

//     BOYS WILL BE BOYS.    //

Snow Bunny-In-Training

2012-02-10T23:31:00.004+08:00

My rented snowboard - with hyperactive pop art graphics, natch.

Look, ma! I'm in the gondola by myself! No chaperone!

Mount Yotei as seen from the base of the Mountain Centre in Lower Hirafu

Yuki was perfect as my first ever snowboarding instructor. She was patient, understanding and sympahetic, methodical and firm. I suppose in all her years of teaching skiing and snowboarding, she has seen every type of student and the wildly varied ways through which they process instruction. She knew better than I did what I was and was not capable of, and so she pushed me to "Get up! Try one more time!" amidst my moans that my legs couldn't possibly take any more.

It was the most punishing two hours of my life, made even more painful by the sight of toddlers (!!!) skiing down the slope as though it was nobody's business.  

"They're young," Yuki explained helpfully. "They don't feel the pull of gravity as much as we do."

It was a mildly comforting thought, sure, but I still felt like screaming at the kids, "Go home and play with your toys!" whenever one would whiz past me. Seriously, some of those kids couldn't have been older than two years old. Their confident "I-was-born-to-be-a-snow-bunny" presence at the slopes caused me great embarrassment, agony and regret. What the fuck was I thinking, coming to Niseko with the grand assumption that I'd easily master the snowboard at the ripe old age of 30?            

But Yuki persevered and, by the end of my lesson with her, I at least learned the parts of a snowboard, how to actually get myself on it, and how to board down the slope using my toe-side edge. This meant that I could only snowboard backwards. Hey, it was just my first day and I was determined to celebrate every victory, no matter how tiny!

I learned how to fall, too, which was really helpful seeing that I probably took a tumble 10,000 times.

I would have learned zilch if I got the dreamboat instructor I had always fantasized about. I would have been too busy getting infatuated.

The most memorable moment of my first day on the slopes was when Yuki decided I was equipped enough to finally get up on a chair lift towards the lowest rise of Niseko Grand Hirafu.

I have never seen anything so... white before! Powder snow everywhere I looked, as far as my eyes can see! Of course I was scared shitless that I'd fall from the chair lift, what with a heavy snowbard dangling from my left foot. But the experience was so exhilarating, so magical. In front of me was Mount Niseko Annapuri. Behind me was Mount Yotei. Underneath me was nothing but fluffy snow. (And the annoyingly confident babies-on-skis.)

"This is all so exotic to me," I would later tell Chris. I grew up in a landlocked part of Northern Luzon, surrounded only by verdant fields of rice, corn, sugarcane, tobacco, and sometimes, cannabis. "I never thought I'd get to see and do all these." 

"I'm putting together a Philippine snowboarding team," I declared over a heavy lunch of curry pork cutlet, rice and Sapporo beer. "I will be the team captain. And we would only ever snowboard backwards. YES WE CAN!"

That big steel post in the background is memorable 'coz I I crashed into it several times. It was a mind thing. When I finally managed to dodge the post after 278 runs down the slope, I just had to take a photo.

James was here.

// HYPERACTIVE IN HIRAFU //

The Diva Video of the Day® Gloria Estefan / Don't Wanna Lose You (LIVE 1990 Grammy Awards)

2012-02-09T23:56:00.000+08:00

//

I don't wanna lose you now or ever

'cause baby I've finally found

The courage to stand my ground

But if you want me, I'll be around forever

//

// MACLEHOSE TRAIL 

Stage 2 //

SEXY SURVIVOR: Steve Wright

2012-02-09T23:53:00.001+08:00

Source

STEVE WRIGHT

Stephen Hough Wright (born April 8, 1959 in St. Louis, Missouri) is a former American football offensive tackle and offensive guard. A 1977 graduate of Wayzata (Minnesota) High School, he played college football at Northern Iowa and then played ten professional seasons for four teams from 1981–1992. He appeared on Survivor: Redemption Island where he placed 10th and became the 3rd jury member.

Source 


// Seriously, 
who taught these Tom-of-Finland-esque daddy-type Survivors to do the hand-on-hip pose? Because it's so camp. 
LOVE. //

WHITE OUT

2012-02-09T23:35:00.003+08:00

What was I thinking??

I was born and raised in the Philippines, where the only "seasons" are wet or dry. Anything lower than 32 degrees Celsius is too cold for me. I own no winter clothes save for a few scarves which I never wear, anyway. I'm not used to piling layers of clothes onto myself; I only ever wished to take clothes off, pronto.

Yet, there I was in Niseko, the "Aspen of Asia." There's 14 metres of snow, it's -20 degrees, I'm wearing Chris' clothes, including thermal underwear made from merino wool which were two sizes too small for me.

"DON'T stretch them," Chris pleaded, perhaps sensing that the expensive wool fabric was about to lose its battle against my thunderous thighs.

"Fine," I sulked, taking the thermals off in a hurry. "I'll just freeze to death."  

"Oh, come on," Chris pinched my cheeks. "I was only teasing you, my little Moon Face. Put them back on. Hurry up."

"Moon Face" is Chris' new nickname for me, for obvious reasons.

"Here," Greg threw me a pair of gloves. "These are Allen's. Wear them. They've even got wipers for your goggles."

It must have taken me 45 minutes to figure out the pieces of clothing that corresponded to parts of my body that I wasn't even aware had to be covered.

"Make a checklist of what you need to bring," Peter said helpfully. "It's tricky to remember everything the first time because you've got to have so many items on you." 

So, here's my checklist:

- Briefs
- Long johns
- Thick socks 
- Ski pants
- Overpants

- Thermal shirt
- T-shirt
- Wool sweater
- Jacket
- Rain shell

- Wool cap
- Helmet
- Goggles
- Multi-purpose head / face / neck scarf 
- Gloves
- Snowboard boots
- Snowboard

I had five layers of clothes on, of which the only familiar item is a t-shirt because honestly, I prefer boxers to briefs. I could hardly move. I couldn't even move my fingers, which felt so... fat. Like I just slammed a heavy door on all of them.

I waddled my way into the bus stop, which was thankfully just in front of our villa. I squeezed my tubby self into the minibus, dodging skis and stocks and snowboards along the way. It was like an obstacle course. And I managed to hit my face on everything that was poking on the slightest sideway angle. 

"Just wait here for your instructor," the smiling receptionist at the Mountain Centre on lower Hirafu told me.

"What's his name?" I asked.

"Ben," she replied.

"Where's he from?"

"Australia."

Oooh.

"Go," I sent Chris, Peter, Allen and Greg off. "I'll wait here for my instructor. My lesson will take two hours, so let's all just gather back together for lunch."

They boys are veterans of ski/snowboard winter holidays; they were raring to get started and I wasn't about to hold them back. Besides, I much preferred to have Ben all to myself. I'm sure he'd be tall, young, muscular, with blonde hair, blue eyes, and a yummy Aussie twang.

"Are you James?" I felt a tap on my shoulder.

I turned my heavy helmeted head around, slow motion - just like in the movies - but saw nobody. Then I looked down.

There she was, a tiny wisp of a girl, maybe 4'11".

"I'm Yuki," she said, extending her hand. "Ben's still at a group lesson so I'll be your instructor today."

Yuki from Montana is a dynamite. She's 32 and has been skiing and snowboarding since she was 9 years old.

"The first thing I'm gonna teach you," she said, "is how to fall." 

"Dear God," I whispered. "Help me."

// HYPERACTIVE GOES SNOWBOARDING

NISEKO, JAPAN 

WINTER 2012 //

The Diva Video of the Day® Whitney Houston / It's Not Right But It's Okay

2012-02-08T23:36:00.001+08:00

//

Things are gonna change 

`Cause I won't be a fool anymore 

That's why you have to leave 

So don't turn around 

To see my face 

`Cause there's no more tears 

Left here for you to see

//

// THAT RAMEN BOWL NEVER STOOD A CHANCE. //

- HYPERACTIVE

SAPPORO

Who Would You Like To Be Marooned On A Deserted Island With?

2012-02-08T23:25:00.001+08:00

Such a manly chest...

Such yummy toes...

OK, Daddy Tom. Take that hard hat off and show us what you're hiding.

// TOM WESTMAN

WINNER, SURVIVOR: PALAU //

O.o

REALLY HYPERACTIVE. NO, REALLY.

2012-02-08T23:24:00.004+08:00

I had been awake for over 24 hours.

It was partly anxiety, sure. But mostly it was because of the sheer difficulty getting out of Antipolo in time for a 5.40am flight from Manila to Hong Kong. So I decided to leave Antipolo late afternoon the day before my flight, spend the evening in Makati, have dinner in Greenbelt and watch the last full show of Contraband.

The movie was fine. But seeing a thriller about cross-border violence and crime wasn't a bright idea just before I was to cross several borders, myself. I was hardly smuggling drugs or art or counterfeit money. But being a Filipino male of my age, height and physical appearance, I certainly fit the profile of a drug runner. I know it; I've been "randomly selected" for baggage check and/or carded enough number of times in Hong Kong and Singapore. So Contraband had the opposite effect of relaxing me. It spooked me.  

I sprinted towards McDonald's even before credits rolled. I just knew that a Big Mac, McFlurry and a large Coke would make me feel better immediately. I also had an Americano just 'coz I'm greedy.

Purely by chance, I ran into my friends Brian, Ricci and his hubby, Nico, who were also on a post-movie snack break at McDonald's. The boys offered to take me to the airport, which was awesome. It was almost 3am.

We made our way into the deep, cavernous bowels of Greenbelt's underground parking system. Brian's was the last car parked. When we were just about twenty metres away from his car, all the lights went out. Therefore, we collectively shrieked like banshees. Brian and Nico swore they felt the presence of multo. Ricci pretended to be miffed at Nico for not having have shared earlier that he, Nico, indeed had multo-sensing abilities.

I knew that a senseless mountain of paperwork and fees awaited me at NAIA Terminal 3. But I was happily buoyed by sugar rush, caffeine rush and bakla rush. I had a smile not only on my face but also in my heart and my soul as I waved goodbye to my friends.

I was first to check in and first past Immigrations. I was also first at the coffee shop, which was cool because I could carry on watching Survivor: Palau whilst waiting for my final boarding call. I noisily slurped my arroz caldo as I ogled hot daddy Tom Westman. 

I had front row, aisle seat on the plane. It was nice to be as comfy as a two-hour flight on a budget airline can possibly be. I had extra leg room, easy toilet access and proximity to exit door - so I was first out of the plane, too, which was awesome coz I was a weepy mess as soon as my feet touched the carpeted familiarity of Chek Lap Kok International.

"I'm here," I texted Chris. I was positively vibrating with mixed emotions. I had missed Hong Kong so much. Chris was by my side before I even received his one-word reply, "Hooray!"

We had breakfast together at the Traveller's Lounge before boarding our Cathay Pacific flight to Sapporo's New Chitose Airport. Five hours of plane travel, along with our dear friends Peter, Greg and his hubby, Allen.

Snowfall greeted us in Sapporo. The entire airport was blanketed in fluff.

"Looks like Russia," I observed helpfully, although I've never been to Russia.

My first "meal" in Japan was some sort of a nori sandwich with a gooey mystery-meat spread from Lawson's. It was disgusting. But I practically inhaled the stuff just 'coz I was ravenous. "This is Japan," I complained, "so where's all the fabulous food?" 

We waited two more hours at the domestic terminal before our shuttle bus to Niseko arrived. Then, it was a three-hour ride to the ski resort.

The final bus stop was the resort's Welcome Centre, but we weren't nearly done yet. We spent a few more minutes shivering in sub-zero temperature.

"It's dumping snow," Greg said.

"It's barfing snow," Peter concurred.

Our private van finally arrived and stopped us from ruminating any deeper about the subtleties of snowfall. We were taken to a luxury villa. There, a perky Japanese girl led us on a tour of the fancy, three-storey house which was to be our home for the next five days.

I had just completed another leg of my long journey back home.

// HIRAFU, NISEKO //

The Diva Video of the Day® Spice Girls / Holler

2012-02-07T11:52:00.003+08:00

//

I'll be your fantasy

Everything you want you will find in me -

If you play my game, yeah...

//

SUSUKINO 

ALMOST

2012-02-07T11:51:00.002+08:00

// I'M ALMOST HOME. //

TENNIS BALLS: Oh, Andy!

2012-02-07T11:51:00.001+08:00

// ANDY MURRAY, YOU'RE ADORBZ. //

The Diva Video of the Day® Janet Jackson / Feedback

2012-02-06T10:53:00.001+08:00

//

Strum me like a guitar blow out my amplifier

When you hear some feedback keep going take it higher

Crank it up give it to me come on

Crank it up give it to me come on

I'm gonna feedback feedback oh

Feedback feedback oh

//

Japan Rail from Kutchan to Sapporo 

TENNIS BALLS: The Roger Redux

2012-02-06T10:51:00.001+08:00

"Damn that Nadal... Beat me again."

"Just gotta keep trying my best."

"What? WHAAAT?!?!?!"

// ROGER'S GOT GAME. //

Sanctuary

2012-02-06T10:42:00.001+08:00

Waiting for scraps from the table

Chris and the newborn kittens

Matu

Sirangan breakfast

Chris slices along the length of the infinity pool

Rattan Room, with two walls of floor-to-ceiling glass sliding doors

Sirangan, more than just a resort and organic farm, is an animal sanctuary of sorts. It is home to a few dogs, several cats (one of which gave birth to two kittens in a jar - all by herself), a mouthy bird who likes to say "Pangit ka!" (You're ugly!), sheep, chickens, ducks, a fat bullfrog (who likes to hop between guests' legs they enjoy meals in the mess hall), and who knows what else... 

Sirangan gave me peace and quiet when I needed to be alone with my thoughts, but it also provided peripheral noise immediately whenever my thoughts would get too toxic for my own good.   

The trip to Sorsogon hurled me harder down the dirt of depression. It was a proper brain fuck. Thrown deep into the country of my birth, I was more disconnected than ever to the world as I knew it. I felt like such a poseur in life, in general. I came from somewhere, I somehow lost my way, I won't admit it, and now it seems I've got nowhere to go.

My ugly thoughts were only magnified, juxtaposed as they were against the impossible perfection of Sorsogon.

Yuck, everything is beautiful except me.

In Sirangan, I was just another animal in need of a sanctuary.

// Mayon Volcano as seen from Legazpi Airport //

The Diva Video of the Day® Lady Gaga / Paparazzi (Moto Blanco Remix)

2012-02-05T20:02:00.001+08:00

//

Yeah, cause you're my rock star in between the sets

Eyeliner and cigarettes

//

// Japan Rail to Otaru, Hokkaido //

TENNIS BALLS: Gillou, Mon Dieu!

2012-02-05T07:52:00.001+08:00

"Yeah! That's what I'm talking about!"

// SO RELIABLE. 
HONESTLY. //

BARCELONA. SORSOGON, NOT SPAIN

2012-02-04T11:07:00.002+08:00

It was Vicky, our Sirangan hostess from Barcelona (Spain), who arranged for Chris and myself to visit Barcelona (Sorsogon).

Barcelona's main attraction is the Bicol region's oldest church built in 1874 by Spanish friars of the Franciscan Order. Its patron is Saint Joseph, a carpenter. Although small, the church is noteworthy for more than just its antiquity. Coral reefs were used to create the church walls. The carvings on the coral reef façade make the church a priceless relic.

Locals say that the town was called Barcelona by homesick Spaniards because the place reminded them of Barcelona in Spain.

Barcelona, Sorsogon is a sleepy, little, coastal town.

Barcelona, Spain, in stark contrast, is a buzzing pilgrimage site. It is home to Basílica i Temple Expiatori de la Sagrada Família - a large, ambitious, architecturally complex, poke-your-eyes-out Roman Catholic church designed by Antoni Gaudí. Construction began in 1883 but the church is still incomplete. Nevertheless, it has been proclaimed a UNESCO World Heritage Site.

Barcelona, Spain is also arguably the world's liveliest gay mecca. But I doubt the Franciscan friars knew that. Or, maybe they did.

Any which way, the closest to a gay experience that Chris and I got from Barcelona, Sorsogon was a brief encounter with a gaggle of effeminate, young things who had just been dismissed from classes. They were fun and full of energy.

They happily skipped rope, stuck their tongues out at my camera, said "Hello! What's your name?" to Chris, etc. Saint Joseph would have approved.

The Diva Video of the Day® Barbra Streisand / In The Wee Small Hours Of The Morning

2012-02-04T10:18:00.001+08:00

//

But from dusk till dawn as the clock ticks on

Something happens to you

In the wee small hours of the morning

While the whole wide world is fast asleep

You lie awake and think about the boy

And never ever think of counting sheep...

//

Sapporo Rooftop

Rafael Nadal: A Tribute To The Australian Open's Fallen Matador

2012-02-03T06:57:00.001+08:00

HEARTBREAK

ENCHANTMENT

Source

// RAFA, WE WILL ALWAYS HEART YOU. //

Dancalan

2012-02-02T07:48:00.002+08:00

LAUGHTER

The best medicine.

// Dancalan Beach //

Ensconced in a small, quiet, peaceful community.

Fine, golden sand. 

Shallow waters and coral reefs teeming with marine life. 

Unspoiled.

Deserted. 

All mine.

The Diva Video of the Day® Madonna / Take A Bow

2012-02-01T10:50:00.001+08:00

//

Make them laugh, it comes so easy

When you get to the part

Where you're breaking my heart

Hide behind your smile, all the world loves a clown

//

// Niseko Nights //

VOLCANIC

2012-01-31T23:58:00.018+08:00

"There are three types of rocks," Chris explained. "Igneous, sedimentary, metamorphic."

We were on our way to Bulusan National Park in a rented van. He majored in Geology and so I asked him to please humour me with "Geology for Idiots" to pass the long hours of travel in rural Philippines.

"I miss Hong Kong," I wailed. My face crumpled, molten rivulets of tears streaming down my cheeks like lava from a hyperactive volcano. "I miss my friends."

I flunked physics and I barely passed chemistry, but I remembered that elementary geology was kinda fun. So honestly, I was annoyed that an easy review of the rock cycle made me cry.

"I miss Greg and Allen and Peter and Joseph and Eric and Caro and Lore and..." I sobbed uncontrollably.

I was so unbalanced. 

I was drifting in some sort of a purgatory whilst I battled mightily to reclaim my life back in Hong Kong. A life - career, love, friendships, community, daily routine - that I had nurtured for almost seven years. But just as nothing can be done to control the movement of tectonic plates, there was nothing I could do at that moment, either, to change my situation. 

Nothing except wait.  

And it was killing me from the inside.

It's infinitely easier to understand (and accept) human suffering in terms of poverty and sickness and death. But emotional instability brought about by physical displacement is a bit harder to digest, especially since Hong Kong is a transient city and Filipinos are a transient people. I was angry and confused. Why couldn't I cope as well as I want to? 

The fact that I had to do my waiting in the isolation of my house in Antipolo - hours and hours of frustrating debate with nobody except the voice in my head, questioning everything I am, everything I've done and everything I believe in - obliterated every bit of my self-confidence. Nobody wins that sort of debate. Yet, it repeats every day.

My spirit was wracked with the wreckage of a thousand earthquakes. 

Chris simply held my hand for the remainder of the trip. When we got to our destination, he gently led me out of the van and into the nature trail around Bulusan Lake.

Somehow, the rippling of the water, the chirruping of crickets and the rustling of branches and leaves brought a measure of calm.

It was all so beautiful.

 I inhaled large gulps of air that smelled of rain and dirt and wet leaves. I forced myself to release my troubles and live in the moment. 

I owed Bulusan than much. 

I owed Chris that much.

If rocks can - and do - go through a cycle, so also can I.

Tomorrow is another day.

// Bulusan Volcano National Park //

Bulusan Volcano National Park is a 3,673 hectares rain forest surrounding Mt. Bulusan. 

It is a wildlife sanctuary and a nature reserve.

Who Is The Best Spartacus?

2012-01-31T22:37:00.003+08:00

To celebrate (A) the life of Andy Whitfield; (B) the launch of Spartacus: Vengeance; and (C) muscle boys, in general; we present a comparative study of actors who have played the seminal (tee-hee!) role of Spartacus - the former gladiator who led a major slave uprising against the Roman Republic in the Third Servile War.

(Whew, what a mouthful. I hate run-on sentences.)

And so we proceed to rate the guys based on four categories because there's nothing more supremely satisfying than objectifying the denizens of our collective fantasies.

Let's begin!

HEADSHOT

ANDY WHITFIELD / 4 Points

Handsome, masculine, relaxed, sensitive, peppered with oodles of sex appeal and an air of mischief.

KIRK DOUGLAS / 3 Points

Distinguished, quietly confident, somewhat brooding, with laser-like focus that pierces through celluloid.
Only bummer is the oily face.

LIAM MCINTYRE / 2 Points

Generically pretty, like every cute frat boy or jock you ever fantasized having a one night stand with.
Needs to learn how to relax his the facial muscles, because this is a headshot and therefore he doesn't need to look angry.

GORAN VISNJIC / 1 Point

Screams "Wannabe." Nondescript, unremarkable, bad hair dye job.

POSTER

KIRK DOUGLAS (1960) / 4 Points

This is high art.
Plus it's just cool to be billed ABOVE Sir Laurence Olivier, natch.

ANDY WHITFIELD (2011) / 3 Points

Reeks of power and menace and anger and danger. Plus those blades are ready to claw your eyeballs out, in case you dare rank him any lower.

LIAM MCINTYRE (2012) / 2 Points

Same face as before, I'm bored already.
Thank goodness you can sniff a whiff of sex in this poster, otherwise I'd fall right asleep.

GORAN VISNJIC (2004) / 1 Point

Spartacus just had his hair done, dintcha know.

SPARTACUS PORTRAIT

ANDY WHITFIELD / 4 Points

He's got so much depth in his expession. He's cynical and violent, sad and vulnerable.

KIRK DOUGLAS / 3 Points

Mad props for being tight, toned and taut during a time when fleshy beefcakes were considered sexy.

LIAM MCINTYRE / 2 Points

There's that defalt face again!
He reminds me of Keanu Reeves, whose only expression is the furrowed brow.

GORAN VISNJIC / 1 Point

With that wimpy, helpless, effeminate, just-out-of-the-grooming-salon puppy dog look, he is a shipwreck.
Therefore, he is more fit to play Bassanio in Merchant of Venice than Spartacus.

THE MONEY SHOT 

(a.k.a. "What's the bottomline, guys? 

What are we really looking at?")

LIAM MCINTYRE / 4 Points

His cup runneth over.
Pretty boy acquits himself beautifully.  

ANDY WHITFIELD / 3 Points

The most beautiful legs on a man, ever; in my never so humble opinion.

KIRK DOUGLAS / 2 Points

OK, he is wearing diapers! Kudos for being so committed!

GORAN VISNJIC (rightmost, wearing corset and skirt) / 1 Point

Lame. 

RESULT

1st Place / 14 Points 

ANDY WHITFIELD

2nd Place / 12 Points

KIRK DOUGLAS 

3rd Place / 10 Points

LIAM MCINTYRE

4th Place / 4 Points

GORAN VISNJIC

//     :o     //

The Diva Video of the Day® Lady Gaga / Marry The Night

2012-01-31T16:54:00.000+08:00

//

I'm gonna marry the dark

Gonna make love to the stark

I'm a soldier to my own emptiness

I am a winner

I'm gonna marry the night

//

Plum Wine at Abucha First, Niseko

Hope Springs Eternal

2012-01-30T22:35:00.003+08:00

MATEO HOT & COLD SPRINGS

Soaking in hot spring water is relaxing, soothing and             is believed to be medicinal. I wouldn't have known that, being that my only experience of a hot spring was in Taipei, and the redolent smell of sulfur reminded me so much of rotten eggs.  

Yet I have been feeling blue lately with very little clue as to what else I could do to feel better. I've tried chocolate, caffeine, all sorts of fried, fatty, calorrific and cholesterol-packed food... I did derive pleasure, of course, from feeding myself. But those were just momentary bursts of hallucination as an instant result of sugar and grease happily coursing through my arteries, therefore blocking any coherent signals to my brain. So I'd feel good for  hot minute, yes, but I'd soon get frustrated that the euphoric feeling was so short lived. And then I'd start feeling blue all over again.

So I was prepared to try anything, including dunking myself into a pool that reeks of rotten eggs. Who knows, maybe the hot spring has curative powers that can immediately dissolve my psychoses. It can't cost more than what a shrink would charge to listen to me whine, right? At the very most, I'd just have to spend on a new loofah and a good, strong bath gel.  

Water in the Mateo Hot & Cold Springs flows directly from the Bulusan Volcano. Surpisingly, the reservoirs are deviod of any sulfuric stench. 

I took a dip, slowly felt my muscles soften, and almost fell asleep. 

After a while, I felt no more pain. 
  
Shit, I thought. This is better than Prozac.

//     Monbon, Municipality of             Irosin     //

Novak Djikovic Would Like To Rip His Shirt Off For You

2012-01-30T16:50:00.005+08:00

To be sure, this is an old habit.

NOLE'S WINNING RITUAL.

And so when he won the Australian Open last night, 

of course he had to do it again.

// WHAT. A. HAM. //

We love you, Nole.

The Diva Video of the Day® Jennifer Lopez / All I Have

2012-01-30T16:34:00.004+08:00

//

'Cause I'm good holdin' my spot

And I'm good reppin' the girls on the block

And I'm good, I got this thing on lock

//

   Niseko     

Thanks to mt dear friend, Greg, 
the best snowboarding instructor in the world.

Swimming with Whale Sharks

2012-01-29T23:16:00.004+08:00

Bancas on the ready

VITTON? No, shit. Let's hope whale sharks are NOT turned into handbags here.

Our little group consisted of a boatman, a whale shark spotter, a "Butanding Interaction Officer" (or "BIO"), a brash American in his late 20s, two really young German girls, Chris and myself

Our mighty vessel

Looks like a "Butanding Interaction Armada" to me.

Our "spotter"

The next boat's spotter, who actually had a very... attractive derriere

Chris is happy

"Go! Go! Go!" Randy, our "Butanding Interaction Officer" (BIO) yelled, sending everyone on the boat jumping into the water immediately. 

Everyone except me.

I was busy getting my fingers caught around the ribbons of my life vest. All the while, I was hoping that maybe - just maybe - I'd still manage to catch a glimpse of the butanding (whale shark) before it got spooked by a "feeding frenzy" of tourists jostling for position with flippers, elbows, fists, knees, teeth.

Sure enough, the butanding swam deeper into the water by the time I got my life vest secured. I stood on the banca in my bright orange flotation gear with matchy-matchy blue mask and flippers, all dressed up with nowhere to go. 

Amidst the jubliant squeals of delight from other tourists, I felt like crying. Why can't I fucking move on from being "The Fat Kid"? 

With steely conviction, I resolved to keep my gear on. I may look stupid but dammit, I'll be ready when that mythical butanding next decides to make an appearance.

Sure enough, it didn't take too long 'til we were again rattled by Randy's cries of "Go! Go! Go!"

I was the first on my boat to jump into the water. I focused my gaze down, squinting... and squinting... and squinting harder. The butanding was four metres beneath the surface. All I saw was an iffy shadow of what might have been a butanding feeding on the plankton-rich waters. Visibility was shit.

"False alarm," Chris cried. "It's just a guppy!"

I was pissed. I was mad and disappointed and livid at these so-called "gentle giants" for avoiding an encounter with me. I may be hyperactive and gay, but that doesn't automatically make me hungry for butanding pelt to craft into handbags. I'm all for sustainable eco-tourism! C'mon, whale sharks. Gimme a break here. One. One measly encounter - that's all I need. 

The third time I heard Randy's "Go! Go! Go!" which had quickly become all too familiar, I simply made a nominal effort to join the fray of frenzied tourists flapping about to swim with the butanding.

That's when magic happened.

Because I was amongst the last to jump into the water, I happened to avoid the area of water occupied by a million other tourists. A few seconds after I jumped from my boat, the butanding appeared directly beneath me. It approached me steadily and with purpose. I felt as though an ancient school bus was about to steamroll me and I couldn't do anything except stay frozen to bear the full impact.

I saw the butanding from head to tail. It was about the length of four human beings. And it must have been swimming no deeper than three inches beneath me.

I was humbled and speechless and content.

I had just encountered Mother Nature in her full majesty. 

It was a sight I will remember forever.

Yay, I swam with whale sharks!

Djokovic Wins 2012 Australian Open

2012-01-29T23:06:00.001+08:00

Novak Djokovic has won the longest Grand Slam final in history to defend the men's singles crown, downing Rafael Nadal 5-7, 6-4, 6-2, 7-5.

The Serbian came from 4-2 down in the fifth set to win in 5h 53min to defeat the Spaniard for the third straight Grand Slam final.

It takes his Grand Slam tally to five and marks the first time he has defended a Grand Slam title.

// DJOKO. DJOKER. DJAMP. //

The Diva Video of the Day® Bernadette Peters / Unexpected Song

2012-01-29T22:23:00.000+08:00

//

Now, no matter where I am

No matter what I do

I see your face appearing

Like an unexpected song

An unexpected song

That only we are hearing

//

Phuket, Thailand

Rafa Pulls Out...

2012-01-28T21:57:00.000+08:00

//     ...a wedgie      //

VAMOS, RAFA.

Arrival in Bacon Beach

2012-01-28T16:59:00.009+08:00

Sirangan stands proud a scant, few metres behind the sea wall

Sirangan Sunset

Suzie cooked this noble Lapu-lapu fish in ginger and leek sauce especially for Chris and myself. The fish was so large, it could have fed an entire village. Thanks, Suzie.

Chris did the sweetest thing by traveling to the Philippines to spend Chinese New Year with me. Our choices for a holiday destination had initially been Tagaytay or Anilao. But Chris being Chris, we ended up treading a far less beaten path, further down towards the southernmost coast of Luzon. 

We took a 45-minute plane ride (delayed half an hour for take-off) plus two hours on an ordinary bus (coasting 20km/hr at top speed, with about a thousand stops in between to let passengers and snack vendors on and off, no aircon) plus half an hour on a jeepney (with a young buck stroking a fighting cock in front of me) plus ten minutes on a tricycle (whose driver didn't know where "BAY-cuhn" Beach was, because of course it's pronounced "Bah-KOHN").

It would have been easy for me to fall into dramatic despair of the  "Oh!-This-just-goes-to-show-how-disconnected-I've-become-from-my-own-country!"  variety. But I'm surprised to say I quite enjoyed getting reacquianted with all the colourful modes of transport in the Philippines. I felt like I've been away for a 10,000 years.

We finally got to our destination at 5.30pm.

"So much for spending the afternoon on the beach," Chris teased with a twinkle in his eye, finally admitting that he had known all along from obscure travel sites that there were public utility vans servicing the Legazpi - Sorsogon route. A van could have taken us to Bacon in a  fraction of the time. But Chris gave me the time and space to figure out the way. Around my  own country. Throughout the journey, he wordlessly cradled his beloved  Kindle with one hand and held my hand in his with the other. 

I was crushed by Chris's revelation. On top of feeling embarrassed and disconnected, I now also felt ignorant and stupid and spoiled.

"It's cocktail o'clock," Chris said, urging my depressed ass towards the bar. He ordered a couple of mojitos made with organic mint picked fresh from the resort's own garden. The bartender, Mark, is a strapping lad of 24 years who used to join male bikini contests in the region. 

We sipped our mojitos whilst watching the horizon blend deep coppers and mauves and indigos over the Pacific.

Chris being Chris, he knew exactly just how to make me feel better. Instantly.

*

Sirangan is a 5-star luxury resort located on the eastern end (sirangan or silangan being vernacular equivalents for east) of Bacon Beach, Sorsogon. It is owned by a Spanish corporation that has seven other boutique properties in Barcelona, Madrid and Madagascar.

The Diva Video of the Day® Toni Braxton - Breathe Again

2012-01-28T09:27:00.002+08:00

//

If I never feel you in my arms again,

If I never feel your tender kiss again,

If I never hear "I love you" now and then,

Will I never make love to you once again?

//

El Nido, Palawan

Nadal x Djokovic in the 2012 Australian Open Finale

2012-01-27T22:51:00.002+08:00

NADAL FOR EMPORIO ARMANI

DJOKOVIC FOR L'UOMO VOGUE

//    WHO'S YO' BABY DADDY?    //

Manila Sunset Over Baywatch Luxury Condominiums

2012-01-27T19:56:00.007+08:00

6PM

7PM

8PM

I haven't in my life experienced a pleasure more pure or joyful than watching the gentle transition of colours on the horizon. Perched on a private balcony overlooking Roxas Boulevard, I felt as though I were bathing in the buttery ambers, delicate mauves and sweeping coppers of Pissarro's palette. 

There are few things more sublime than a Manila Bay sunset. 

Should I be so lucky as to have lived in one.

*

I had the pleasure of having been a guest of the Baywatch Luxury Condominiums whilst writing a Manila travel feature for Dim Sum Magazine. 

That one gets to enjoy the amenities, comfort and deeply personal touches of a real home whilst on a travel assignment is rare.  

Units 1403 and 1903 are gay owned and operated. 

The Baywatch tower is within stone's throw of historic tourist attractions, fabulous eateries, and - of course - the Malate gay precinct. As an added bonus, the Ninoy Aquino International Airport is a mere 20-minute cab ride.   

Much thanks to owner Bill Hawkins and his lovely property manager, Ms. Aily, for the hospitality.

More photos and details below.

Welcome to Baywatch tower.

The gently undulating facade...

...is echoed throughout as a design feature.

A sweeping view of Manila rooftops as seen from my bed

The studio flats feature the following:

• balcony with Manila Bay view

• fully-equipped kitchen (refrigerator, microwave, etc.)

• toilet and bath (with bathtub)

• living and dining area

• cable TV with 60 channels

• DVD/CD/MP3 player

• high-standard furniture

• excellent interior decoration

In addition, the building has the following facilities:

• swimming pool

• gym and sauna

• 2 high-speed elevators

• view deck with 360 degress view of Manila

• restaurant

• 24-hour security

All these you get for a fraction of a 5-star hotel rate.

Address:
2057 M H Del Pilar St. 
Malate, Manila 

NEARBY LANDMARKS:
Hotel Sofitel Grand Boulevard, Malate Church, Aristocrat Restaurant

Tel. No. +63 919 490 1330  

Email: baywatch1403@gmail.com

The Diva Video of the Day® ABBA / Take A Chance On Me

2012-01-27T10:29:00.003+08:00

//

Let me tell you now:

My love is strong enough to last when things are rough -

It's magic!

//

Bacuit Bay

Rafa Beats Roger. Again.

2012-01-27T09:50:00.007+08:00

2012 MELBOURNE PARK

Nadal defeated Federer 6-7, 6-2, 7-6, 6-4 for the second time at the Australian Open. 

Nadal leads Federer in their head-to-head series at 18-9. 

Federer has not beaten Nadal in a Grand Slam since 2007.

Federites, Roger needs a hug!

1ST YEAR ANNIVERSARY!

2012-01-27T09:24:00.001+08:00

  
//     HUGS + KISSES     //

The Diva Video of the Day® Colbie Caillat / Bubbly

2012-01-26T08:06:00.004+08:00

//

Where ever, where ever, where ever you go

Where ever, where ever, where ever you go

Where ever you go, I'll always know

Cause you make me smile here, just for a while

//

Golden Monkey Cottages, El Nido

Magic Mushrooms

2012-01-26T00:34:00.002+08:00

//      Mushroomburger      //

The H Factor:

- Light, airy Pinoy-style monay buns that easily yield with every ravenous bite

- Super tasty patty made from mushrooms (duh!) + beef is sexy and is the first of its kind in the world

- Forget guilt; 
feel free to do a double decker, if you're feeling greedy

- Thick, tasty, real (!) potato fries

- Sweet, sticky, suspiciously red (!) but undeniably delicious banana ketchup

- Sit on chairs that look like car seats; 
fulfill your every truck stop fantasy 

Hair

2012-01-25T17:53:00.000+08:00

We're marking Roger Federer's 1000th tour match and his victory at Rod Laver over Juan Martin del Potro by celebrating - you guessed it! - hair.

The animalistic fervour and focus and fire with which these boys play - coupled with all that hair, of course - begs the question: "Have they really, truly, completely evolved?"

You be the judge.  

Meanwhile, here's Hyperactive Hair Honour Roll!

3rd place: Novak Djokovic

2nd place: Juan Martin del Potro

1st place: Roger Federer

//     vhairy sexy.     //

The Diva Video of the Day® - Evanescence / My Immortal

2012-01-25T07:54:00.003+08:00

//

When you cried I'd wipe away all of your tears

When you'd scream I'd fight away all of your fears

//

Lake Bulusan
24 January 2012

Tennis Balls: Stanislas Wawrinka

2012-01-25T07:50:00.001+08:00

POTENTIAL
Noun. // Definition: "If he can fit THAT into his mouth, just imagine what else he's capable of."

Stanislas Wawrinka looks yummy in a very vintage beefcake sort of way. 

Thick, fleshy, and shamelessly hairy. 

And that's why he makes the Tennis Balls honour roll.

Let's get to know more about him:

Stanislas Wawrinka's career ranking high is no. 9, achieved on 9 June 2008. He considers clay his best surface and his backhand his best shot. He won the gold medal for Switzerland in the men's doubles event at the 2008 Summer Olympics in Beijing, partnering Roger Federer, by beating Swedish team Simon Aspelin/Thomas Johansson in the final.

  
Source 

Roger worships Stan...

...then, Roger mounts Stan.
Hooray for teamwork!

Stan, basketball is not for you. Get back to playing tennis. Take that tennis ball out. Now.

"Wanna taste my... apple?"

//      WORSHIP.      //

Visiting Bellini's

2012-01-24T09:48:00.002+08:00

// Bellini's La Pasta Italiana, Cubao //

The Diva Video of the Day® - Telepopmusik / Breathe

2012-01-24T09:34:00.002+08:00

//

Another day,

just believe.

Another day,

just breathe.

//

Sirangan, Sorsogon 

Tennis & Underwear

2012-01-24T09:22:00.001+08:00

Nico Massu in D&G

Fernando Verdasco in Calvin Klein

Rafael Nadal in Emporio Armani

//      LOVE.      //

The Diva Video of the Day® - The Corrs / What Can I Do? (LIVE MTV Unplugged)

2012-01-23T15:45:00.000+08:00

//

There's only so much I can take

And I just got to let it go

And who knows I might feel better

If I don't try and I don't hope...

//

Tennis Balls: Weekend with Nole (Part 2)

2012-01-23T06:32:00.000+08:00

//      The Champ      //