I found this on Jessica Zafra’s website.

Apparently, Ely Buendia listens to The Ramones — my favoritest punk rock band in the universe.

Granted a lot of people listen to The Ramones.

And yes, it’s not terribly exciting news that Ely listens to The Ramones, but for someone like me whose very existence is anchored on everything related to Ely Buendia, this is the most fantastic news ever (next only to news that he has seen the light and is now willing to marry me).

I like The Ramones.  He likes The Ramones.

Ergo…

…stay tuned.

(Or not.  “Stay tuned” just seemed like the appropriate thing to say.)

This is late, I know. You’ve probably heard of this before, but I haven’t till recently so be kind.

boohoo, can't afford it

Click here for the details.

And wipe that drool off your chin.

my crush. yes.

I’m pretty much always in a rush to get home these days.

I’ve always been obsessed with my bed, as everyone who knows me can attest. My bed — as plain and messy as it is — is my sanctuary.

But this isn’t about my bed.

I think I already mentioned a few posts back that I’m currently drawn towards a rather unlikely attachment. I’m not usually the type to watch a soap opera religiously. I hate the constant drama and crazy waterworks. If anything, I ‘d rather watch stupid and inane stuff like MadTV.

Now, though, I’m totally obsessing over a soap opera that no one would ever believe could hook me in. My sisters roll their eyes whenever the clock hits 8PM because they know it’s time for the waterworks again. Not that I cry, though. I can honestly say I haven’t shed a single tear over the show, although I do wring my hands in consternation when the protagonists find themselves in dire circumstances.

One of the most important reasons why I watch this thing, however, is Nicky Wu.

yeah, that guy. in yellow.

Yes, my cousin’s crush from two thousand years ago is finally getting to me. He’s not exactly gorgeous, but … oh well who am I kidding. You can all say what you want but I think the guy is hot and he’s gorgeous and hot and well, yeah. I ran out of adjectives again.

I didn’t like him back then (at the height of his superstardom as 1/3 of the Taiwanese boyband, Little Tigers. I know. Don’t rub it it.) because I was more of a Jimmy Lin fan. Forget I said that.

But now he’s just, well, addicting.

So yeah, my sisters will make fun of me yet again, but who cares.

Screw you, detractors (that includes one of my seven other personalities, who thinks people who brought the “boyband” concept to Asia should be shot).

Anyway, yeah.

Or not.

It’s just that I keep thinking mass murderer/total nutjob when I hear the name Paul Potts.  I know, I know.  It’s completely stupid.  There’s an “S” where Pol Pot had none, but still.

singing the aria while you die

And tell me you don’t find the man creepy.

He gives me the heebie-jeebies, I tell you, with that fat face of his that could block the full moon if he wished to.  There’s sort of a William Hung quality to him that I can’t quite explain, sort of like a Down Syndrome meets moon cake cross breeding experiment gone awry.

I’m being mean.

He has talents I can only dream of.  He’s world renowned and had nasty Simon Cowell clapping in awe.

Not that any of that matters, though, when you’re named like a notorious criminal and shaped like an orbiting satellite.

It’s bitch season.

I have to say Uncle Ben was wrong.

No great power has come to my possession and yet I have a goddamn laundry list of responsibilities to deal with. If anything, age has given me a rather clear and entirely non-rosy view of the world. Whatever all those feel good movies say, there’s seriously nothing awe inspiring at all in dealing with life’s curve balls and major setbacks.

Nobody’s forcing me to deal with this shit. I know that and it’s all completely clear. I’m doing this because, well, it’s my responsibility. It’s about as simple as that.

That doesn’t mean the pressure never gets to me, though. I’m not superman, no matter how invincible and nonchalant I try to be in front of the family. And it’s not that I’m being all emo inside. It’s not that. I feel fine doing this for the people I love. It’s just that sometimes, I feel like breaking down.

As my friend Mei said, she never had a problem with money back when we were students. Ironically, now that we’re all employed, money’s just another of those things we always seem to run out off.

It’s a consequence of growing up. Somehow you just learn to deal. Life’s a bitch — you have no choice but to bitch back or die trying. It’s crap and we all know it but there’s not much else we can do.

still hot; not the point

Last night I caught this new Taiwanese soap opera that stars one of the forefathers of Chinese boybands, Nicky Wu. The still hot as hell and apparently ageless Nicky plays a down and out elder brother who has to take care of his three siblings and his slightly psychotic mother. Nicky Wu is, as I mentioned a sentence ago, still totally drool-worthy, but this post isn’t really about his hotness, so I digress.

I’m not a big fan of tearjerkers, seeing as how real life is a bastard in itself. Last night, though, I forced myself to sit through the show, mainly because something in it just resonated in my head. It’s pretty much like the scriptwriter somehow got into my head, sorted out my thoughts, put them into words and made Nicky Wu memorize them.

I’m not in a good mood for translating, but I’ll do what I can.

”妳可以幫我請假嗎？ can you help me file for leave?
一天就好。one day’s enough.
可以有時不那麼堅強嗎？“ can I just be weak sometimes?

There are days when superman is a bitchin’ role you seriously don’t want to play, but the world’s waiting and drama won’t get you anywhere at all.

One day’s leave is all I need.

Maybe I can be weak sometimes, too.

Girl writes fan mail to rockstar.  Rockstar responds.  Girl faints.

hey krysty

thanx for the kind words. have good weekend!

raym<s>

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!!  *faints again*

As much as I would like to focus on completing my now two weeks overdue school report, I am sidetracked by post-reunion concert interviews with three of the Eraserheads.  I am fascinated, obviously, and would’ve loved nothing more than be in Gang Badoy’s (the interviewer) shoes.

Anyway, Marcus is — as usual — the most laid-back of the three.  He’s so calm you’d think Bin Laden just surrendered and joined a monastery.  Buddy’s obviously very mature, his answers sort-of daddyish.  Raymund seemed like he was playing it cool and coy, dodging questions on reunification and the testy waters that surround his relationship with Ely Buendia.

But whatever.  All three agree that they were overwhelmed by the crowd’s response and the spontaneous combustion of love in the air that night.  Plus they’re all extremely willing to play as the Eheads again.

Best line of the three interviews:

“Basta masaya ako…” ~ Marcus, explaining how things were between him and the other members of the band.

Plus this, of course:

“I want Ely to fully recover soon and talk him into finishing it.” ~ Raymund, on finishing the reunion concert.

Now all we need is Ely.

[Read the PDI interviews with Marcus, Raymund and Buddy]