Random Randomness

Prince Eric (My Favorite)

This is what I call randomness, people. Forgive me for this.

[Warning: The following images are extremely gay. Please be guided accordingly.]

Aladdin

 

Captain John Smith

Captain Li Shang

 

Captain Phoebus 

 

David Kawena

 

Hercules

 

Jim Hawkins

Milo James Thatch

 

Kocoum

 

Prince Philip

  

Stitka

 

Tarzan

 

 

Will-Turner

Special thanks to Nicia
Or you might as well want to visit this site: www.partofthegame.tv

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Five Reasons Why You Should Hate Jessica Zafra

If you didn't know who Jessica Zafra is, maybe you are either (1) a non-reader or (2) a movie star(let) whose world revolves solely around the camera. There is no big difference between the two anyway. The best you can do now is to close this blog and leave; pretending not to have read this entry would be great too.

But if you do know her, I mean Jessica, you should hit that continue reading button below and start to loathe that woman.



1. After finishing the Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, I thought of reading another series that would help me get over the death of gay Dumbledore and the series itself. And then I saw Tw7sted in one of the shelves of National Bookstore. I asked a grumpy sales attendant to give me a copy of Twisted 1; all she did was to type away in her PC and said, 'We don't have that.' I felt so bad because I disturbed her. End of story.

I've been to Fullybooked and 4 other National Bookstores but found nothing. So I started reading the 7th first, thinking that Twisted 1 was already prehistoric.

2 Whenever I was asked to tell something about myself (that is not included in my resume blah blah blah), I always squeeze in that I read the Twisted series. Upon hearing this, the interviewer would instantly go gaga telling me that he also reads the series and that Zafra rocks, and that her articles were funny and satirical and stuffs like that. He would also discuss about her writing style up to her cats Saffy, Koosi and Mat, as if giving a free Jessica Zafra 101 lecture. This would last for like 10 minutes. This has happened twice now, and as usual, I was left nodding tentatively to the eager interviewer. That only makes me wonder, 'Hey, who is the applicant again? Is it me or what?'

3. Another thing that makes me hate this woman is the way she makes me feel so damn stupid.

I spent two days to finish Tw7sted- one day of reading, and the other for laughing. My mother even told me to burn that book just because I was laughing out loud with this line:

My choice was Gatas, in which a young woman fights off Japanese troops with powerful squirts of breastmilk.

So i showed this to my friends. But they just gave me that if-looks-could-kill-you-are-dead look. Knowing that they didn't understand a thing from the book made me laugh louder. Ha! I am their intellectual superior. I dunno. She writes her articles so well that I even thought of courting her, which is even stupid-er.

4. No, I am not fantasizing about her; and I won't dare myself to see her on two-piece. But there was a time that I dreamed of her. I can't recall what exactly happened but thank god I wasn't sweating or screaming when I woke up. Then I went straight to my study table only to see her picture at the back cover of Twisted 2, i said: wicked witch.

5. Jessica Zafra is very much aware that the inflation rate is going higher each day. And what she did to address this problem is to simply sell Twisted 8 at a higher price compared to her previous books. Burden.

Can you please give me a discount coupon, Ms. Jessica Zafra?

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Owned.

________'s


You are ________'s owned brightest,
once hoaxed by the world of that nears...
Like years

You are ________'s declared largest,
twice scared of the boogie man under a small bed...
Yes, it said.

You are ________'s framed picture,
thrice bored with pale stories about rivers, streams and dreams...
Moons gazing on reflections...
Actions...

You are ________'s wonderful actor,
many times fooled by looms created by the nice shadows...
created by stars-
NOT wars

You are ________'s slave,
forever barren into ages, pages...
That makes novels hooked into dust...
Rust.

You are owned.


Ernest John Tamana
2nd place | 12th literary awards- The Torch publications
Genoveva Edroza-Matute

I was flipping the pages of Aklas, The Torch's anthology of essays and poems, when I came across this poem. Then I realized, can somebody please own me?

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Fixing a Broken Family

He never abandoned us because we have long since abandoned him. His departure would never cause any grief or sorrow but only a spark of hope. His departure brought the peace we always long for.

My family's current status is far from ok. I never deny this to my friends, telling them that happy families are myths, and only exist in dramas you see on tv. And the least they can do is to agree with me.


If I were to trace the root of all the problems with my family, I would end up face-to-face with my father. That face I have learned to loathe.

All he does is to put our family deeper into problems. All he does is to cause midnight arguments with my mom. All he does is to put us all away from him. All he fncking does is to break this family we've been trying hard to keep.

What can I do, I am only his son, and, unfortunately, he is my father. He literally overpowers me. Yes! He is powerful, I forgot. The fact that he can set the house on fire without even needing a gallon of gasoline and a match made him all-powerful. All he needs are sharp words, loud voice and an appliance to break ( for dramatic effect ). And as always, I would always end up cleaning his mess.

However, the fight last Sunday was entirely different. For the first time, he assaulted and grabbed my mom by her neck. I was outraged the moment I heard it from my sister. Because I wasn't there when it happened; I was with someone I always dreamed of. Its ironic.

My mom woke me up, totally sober from last night's drunk fight. No signs of being hurt or battered can be traced on her face. She told me that dad left with all his things.

We both smiled.

He never abandoned us because we have long since abandoned him. His departure would never cause any grief or sorrow but only a spark of hope, and peace. His departure brought the peace we always long for.

It's never too late to rebuild our family and turn this structural building into something I can call home with, a family living inside it, like the ones you see on TV. And we plan to do it without you, Dad.

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beijing and mADness

Last night, I was watching the live telecast of the grandiose opening ceremonies of the 2008 Beijing Olympics in RPN 9 only to be bombarded by annoying advertisements every five minutes.

That we don't have a cable TV is the reason why I settled for a free broadcast- Cable Deprivation. Then I asked, 'Why in the hell don't we have a Cable TV?!'

Two reasons sprung in mind. One, there are still areas in this mountainous place that can't be reached by cable companies. Two, and lastly, there are still families who can't afford to subscribe for it. I think, they co-exist with one another.

This is the problem with free stuffs- in exchange for a free show, you will be force-fed with ads vital in their corporate machinations. What do we have in store? An oil and airline company, a rhum and a beer, a telecom company claiming they support sports, and an herbal tea and food supplement (both clinically untested).

Thus, it wasn't free after all. By the next Olympics, I will watch sporting events on my Cable TV. And I want it advertisement-free, but now, RPN 9 will just do. Either way, Cable TV or not, nothing comes free these days, a proven fact.

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Dreamboy

For two straight nights (or was it three, I can't tell), I was dreaming of nothing but him. It was kinda odd to me that a guy like him, which I wasn't very close with, is starting to be a mainstay in my dreams.

He was our high school valedictorian. What can I say. He's not that tall but his personality was a towering fortress. One shouldn't judge a person by his height, right? Nevertheless, it would be worth noting that his elementary buddies used to call him 'Jumbo'. Figure that out.

Now he's in UP Diliman, and presumptuously a smart-ass. Every Friday, my friends would accompany me to his house for a weekly exchange of PSP games. We would eat chocolates and cake while having a slouch on their fluffy sofa. What made me almost fall for him is the fact that he always gives me a copy of Philippine Collegian. This guy knows my weakness, I thought. Last monday, I even received a text message from him saying he already got an issue of Kule and we should drop by his place. I replied 'we'd love to.'

While having our talk during one of those random Fridays, he said that he is now a smoker. I can't recall what I answered, maybe it was either a 'fnck you' or 'you're bluffing'. Because a guy so pure and innocent like him shouldn't be burning his lungs out for some petty reason of going social or peer pressure. But I am happy that two years made him a grown man.

I am still looking forward to that day when we can kill each other's time and puff our cigarettes together. While taking a drag from my Marlboro Lights, you will intellectualize shits with your Red. For now, I will just see you in my dreams.

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Last Stick

I survived Pau's debut-slash-dvd marathon with only five sticks of Marlboro Lights to keep me company during that cold and rainy night. Downing five grande of Red Horse didn't even brought an ounce of dizziness in me. Plates after plates of Pau's Party Spaghetti were served yet didn't made me full as well. There's one thing I am sure of that very moment, I am uncontented.


Well, its human nature, I guess. Blame human nature. We have been programmed to ask for more, the unwritten rule: the more we get, the more we effin tend to ask for more. But this kind of 'uncontentedness' that I have felt has nothing to do with beers, Lights, or even money. Though the last one was justifiably true, who knows.

I crave for him. Yes. Maybe his mere presence could fill this gap in me, this hunger, this thirst. I wish.

In this clarity, we can't say that being uncontented means you got absolutely nothing. No. It only vindicates the fact that you have something but you obviously wanted more- which in my case, is true. I almost have him, nearly. He's mine, nearly. Yet, I want more.

We have come to this term that words are unnecessary. His smiles, childish grins, and half-funny jokes I have come to love. Words are not needed when these things would suffice.

After consuming my last stick, I've realized that he's the only one I have, nearly. Now I want more yosi, please.

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Girl Talk

At exactly 11am, my feet were already rooted down the tiled floor of National Book Store, eyes fixed upon two books. And it literally took me an eternity to decide what title to buy. This is the hardest thing in buying- the money.

So after an hour of crucial and ever-changing decision, I have finally reached my pick. Shelling out a 500-peso-bill from my thin wallet, I confidently handed the book to the bubbly cashier. The moment she saw the book, she gave me that kind of look as if I had committed a first-degree murder; her facial expression, I think, was more of a shock than surprise.

Only upon stepping out the store that I had realized what I just bought: Ladlad 2: An Anthology of Philippine Gay Writing. Now, I know.


When I got home, I hastily tore the red plastic bag and proceeded to reading. I planned of reading at least one essay before taking my afternoon sleep. My mom emerged from the kitchen and saw the pink cover of the book I was reading.

Ladlad na naman?! Tapos mo na ba yung 3?

That's what she said, and it totally took me off-guard. Not that she wasn't aware that I am reading pink book, it's only because "the hell she cares" thing. I absent-mindedly answered her yes, because I was really enjoying my read and there's no room for interruption at that moment. "Ano 'yan? Ladlad 2? E bakit parang pabalik ka magbasa?", she blurted out. Out of annoyance, I shouted back at her:

E kasi bakla ako. Period. OK?

I stood up and saw her smile on what I said, then she walked away shaking her head. After changing my jeans to shorts, I decided to sleep.

[Ok, I am cutting in this part for some ad. Honestly, I haven't tried to play a game in any Online Casinos available in the net. I dunno, I am such a klutz. After reading this part, be sure to click Online Casino. Thanks.]

I was subconsciously halfway to dreamland only to be awaken by a sudden and continuous tapping at my back. "Nasaan yung Ladlad?" It was my mom. Using my middle finger, I pointed out the place where I had placed it before I go to bed. I closed my tired eyes to continue the interrupted sleep. For the last time (I wish), she yelled: "Pahiram muna ako. Magbabasa lang ako."

Marami tayong pag-uusapan mamaya, I thought, But, I am sure, that can wait. I dozed myself off to sleep, smiling.

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About

PROSETITUTE [prohz-ti-toot, -tyoot]
noun

-a bitch person who willingly writes in prose for the mental gratification of his readers

THE PROSETITUTION DEN

I created this blog because I am not a complete moron; I know how to read instructions in English, use a computer and some common sense. And I don't suck in HTML at all.

This is my Prosetitution Den, and I am your resident Prosetitute. My intellectual shits, caused by sudden emotional diarrhea and intellectual masturbation, are scattered here for public scrutiny-- you can read, comment, copy-paste, or just leave. But if you are an insanely insane person, you can contact me for a Paypal donation which I will never ever refuse. Your money will bring me to Bora next summer, or send me back to school next semester.

My write-ups are mostly about myself, my experiences, and some annoying current events. Sometimes, I write about anything that is related to the Internet and the blogosphere. I also come up with my own list a la Ang Pinaka. I review websites, movies, music, or books when I am in the mood. At kaya ko rin nga palang magsulat sa wikang Filipino (para hindi niyo naman sabihin na masyado na akong nilamon ng kanluraning sistema).

THE PROSETITUTE

Cyberpeeps call me Toffer (but that's not my name). Who knows, in the months to come, I might fancy to use Toffest as my screenname. I can't wait to turn 18 this January; I am really eager to work (again) as a corporate slave, join the workforce (again), and be paid for my pseudo-fluency in English. In this uhm absurd way, I can save money to throw myself back to school next academic year because I am sooo fed-up with my mother who is screaming for a diploma. WTH! Mothers can be sarcastic and ironic sometimes.

NOTE: Hindi pa tapos ito. Kung nais mo namang umalis na lang, pwede kang mag-plurk.

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