A THANK-YOU NOTE TO MEN

To you, whom it may concern,


To my Adam, who chose to be stupid and submissive in the name of love (not knowledge), for the apple that got stuck in your throat, maybe that's why you don't speak so well but feel so much that it hurts sometimes; you who gave me a duplicate to your heart, your car, and your home; for letting me use your razor, your t-shirt, your coat, and your shoulder to cry, sleep, and lean on when I was drunk with laughter and alcohol; you who made me scream with sheer delight and utter exasperation; for not understanding a word of english for the sake of argument but who understands a look perfectly well; a sophisticated neanderthal who will never get it, though you try, you really do; you who laughed at me for putting on makeup, you liked my oily face and disheveled hair just fine; thank you for the flowers and for screwing in the light bulbs and me when I needed it, and for all the things I couldn't reach; you helped me up, carried me on your back, to the car, to the toilet, to the garbage can, to the bed, and kissed me, who has lost all bearing and composure, goodnight anyway; for forgetting, always forgetting something, making me remember, keeping me on my feet; you stood beside me, behind me, in the front to shield me, honor me, protect and defy me; thank you for keeping me grounded and soaring, for taking my breath away and making me swallow that bitter pill of assuming of knowing everything because I seriously thought I did, once, then you came and fucked everything up; for opening me to your truth; you who swept me off my feet and left me on the floor to pick up the pieces of the mess you made; who knelt in front of me pleading like a homeless puppy for getting my knees dirty and licking my wounds with your tongue-lashing; you whispered in my ear as I slept and I swore they haunted my dreams like the ghost of past loves out to get me, but I laid still and you held me there, without pride, prejudice, or inhibition even as your arm lost all blood and feeling; a man, naked, singular, missing a rib. How do I love thee? You set my soul on fire. And I light up the world as you stand there in the shadows, licking that self-serving smile that found its way to your lips and mine; for giving me my sin again. You gave me that; you who kept me always in your heart, sometimes in your thoughts, but never in your debt. I am eternally grateful.

---Michelle Callanta


***Inspired by Mary-Louise Parker's A Thank You Note to Men

I LIKE KISSING MORE THAN F*CKING.

Yes. Seriously.

I'd rather have a great kiss than great sex. And that ain't even lip-service. *winks*

(Usually, the kiss is better than the sex anyway.)

*can I get an amen, y'all?*

...

So now I'm collecting kisses. I shall put them in a jar and keep em in my refrigerator and save em for those God-awful days when I need to feel for just a moment that I am on the verge of something WONDERFUL and MAGICAL.

*sigh*

I don't think people take kissing seriously anymore. =(




On that note...


the archipelago of kisses

We live in a modern society. Husbands and wives don't
grow on trees, like in the old days. So where
does one find love? When you're sixteen it's easy,
like being unleashed with a credit card
in a department store of kisses. There's the first kiss.
The sloppy kiss. The peck.
The sympathy kiss. The backseat smooch. The we
shouldn't be doing this kiss. The but your lips
taste so good kiss. The bury me in an avalanche of tingles kiss.
The I wish you'd quit smoking kiss.
The I accept your apology, but you make me really mad
sometimes kiss. The I know
your tongue like the back of my hand kiss. As you get
older, kisses become scarce. You'll be driving
home and see a damaged kiss on the side of the road,
with its purple thumb out. If you
were younger, you'd pull over, slide open the mouth's
red door just to see how it fits. Oh where
does one find love? If you rub two glances, you get a smile.
Rub two smiles, you get a warm feeling.
Rub two warm feelings and presto-you have a kiss.
Now what? Don't invite the kiss over
and answer the door in your underwear. It'll get suspicious
and stare at your toes. Don't water the kiss with whiskey.
It'll turn bright pink and explode into a thousand luscious splinters,
but in the morning it'll be ashamed and sneak out of
your body without saying good-bye,
and you'll remember that kiss forever by all the little cuts it left
on the inside of your mouth. You must
nurture the kiss. Turn out the lights. Notice how it
illuminates the room. Hold it to your chest
and wonder if the sand inside hourglasses comes from a
special beach. Place it on the tongue's pillow,
then look up the first recorded kiss in an encyclopedia: beneath
a Babylonian olive tree in 1200 B.C.
But one kiss levitates above all the others. The
intersection of function and desire. The I do kiss.
The I'll love you through a brick wall kiss.
Even when I'm dead, I'll swim through the Earth,
like a mermaid of the soil, just to be next to your bones.

--Jeffrey McDaniel

HE'S OUT THERE LOOKING FOR YOU.

You know how people try to make you feel better about being single by telling you, "Hey he's out there looking for you, he just hasn't found you yet!"?

WELL HE SHOULD GET A FUCKING GPS BECAUSE THIS IS BULLSHIT.

I have been waiting and I keep thinking that I've met him and instead I meet men who pee in front of me on the first date or act lovely towards me and then disappear from the face of the planet.

WHERE ARE YOU, PERFECT GUY FOR ME? Are you famous? Is that why your schedule is so busy? Oh crap, are you John Mayer? Please don't be John Mayer. Are you Chris Pine? I don't really care if you are, your name just kind of popped into my head. Hey Chris Pine, you were adorable in "Just My Luck" and pretty good in Star Trek, I guess, but to be honest I was a little distracted by your massive package. Sweet sassy molassy. I'm talking about the scene where he's going to do that green woman. That's like, an entire Death Star in those briefs. OK I know Death Star is a Star Wars reference and not a Star Trek one, but I think effort counts for a lot.

My friend says that I haven't met him yet (my perfect guy, not Chris Pine) because she needs to meet him first so she can make sure he's not a rapist and introduce me. How thoughtful. She says he will be funny and thin and creative. He will have dark hair and an odd sense of humor. And etc, I tuned out at some point. He needs to be amazing. He needs to have a goddamn job. And it should be awesome. He should be so attractive that I ovulate every time I see him.

Oh I know what you're thinking: "your standards are too high".

WELL DUH MY STANDARDS ARE HIGH. STANDARDS ARE WHAT SEPARATES US FROM ANIMALS. You don't see a dog freaking out over which dog's ass to sniff, a dog just finds an ass and sniffs it. That's the thing about dogs, they don't care.

If none of us had standards we would all be married by now.

What! I'm just saying! We would all be married by age 12 so we could immediately spend the rest of our lives with another person, popping out kids, like a farm animal.

But we don't do that because of standards. Standards are great. Standards make us feel like we have some control over my lives. Like, "Oh I haven't gone on a second date with Derek because I don't think he's liberal enough." No, it has nothing to do with the fact that Derek ignores your texts; now it's about YOU. You are the one in control, you are the one in charge of your destiny...and...emotions...and Spock...and I'm really trying to work in more Star Trek references but I'm having a hard time here. Help me, Obi-Wan Kanobi. DAMNIT, WRONG FRANCHISE AGAIN. Uh...I'm a doctor, not a...mechanic.

BUT THAT'S NOT IMPORTANT RIGHT NOW.

So look, guy, you better find me. I will be looking but I'm sick of doing all the work. I like to go out, to classy bars and such, so when you see me, just say "Hi". That's it. "Hi". As long as you do that and aren't ugly and don't pee on yourself, I'll know you're the one.


***Taken from: http://french-graffiti.blogspot.com/2009/05/hes-out-there-looking-for-you.html

....

APOCALYPSTICK --- My favorite blogger to date. A woman after my own heart. =)

DOES ANYBODY DATE ANYMORE???

(Taken from http://french-graffiti.blogspot.com/2009/03/does-anybody-date-anymore.html)

.......

This morning, while jogging, I had a revelation.

I haven't been on a date in years.

Instead I've been...ugh..."hooking up". First of all, I hate that fucking phrase. I used to say "hook up" instead of meet up. For example: "Hey Stacey let's hook up later at the Valley party." Ok first of all I don't know anyone named Stacey and I don't go to parties in the Valley. Which isn't to say that I wouldn't; I just never know of anyone who has Valley parties.

BUT THAT'S NOT IMPORTANT RIGHT NOW.

Lately my "dating" has been going to some dudes house and making out with him. That's not a date. It's kind of slutty. It's backwards, too. I find that after I've gotten fairly intimate with a guy I realized that I'm nervous about asking him on a date and that he could actually turn me down. That's messed up on all accounts. That's not how it should go.

Here's how it should go. You don't have to pick me up, because I live in the Valley and you probably don't, but we should on a first date meet at a restaurant or whatnot and NOT your house. I should not be in your house on the first date unless your first date is a house party. And it better be a good house party. There not better be any fucking red plastic cups. We're not 19 anymore. Buy some fucking glasses. BUT THAT'S NOT IMPORTANT RIGHT NOW.

We will meet at a restaurant and it will be a fucking classy joint. And we will maybe have a drink at the bar first so I can get all flirty and touch your shoulder and laugh and maybe even do my Blanche impression. Yes, Blanche from the Golden Girls, and yes, it is a great

impression.

Let me tell you this right now: you will pay for dinner. Yes, I said it. You are a man. I am a

woman. I am a hot woman. I am a sexy funny awesome hot woman. I am not paying for dinner. I am not going to split it. I am not going to do any of that shit. Because earlier that night I blow

dried my hair, put on make up, squeezed my Italian ass into a stretchy American Apparel dress, and shaved everything. And you're a man. I don't care if this is 2009 and I don't care that Beyonce is running around in a leotard shouting at us to be proud single ladies: You. Are. Buying. Dinner.

You are required to treat me like Audrey fucking Hepburn on this first date.

By which I mean do not be a douchebag. Be a gentleman. Pretend that the entire date

has Camera Obscura as the soundtrack. Is that fuck music? No, it is not fuck music. It is clean and beautiful and adorable. Like our first date.

Do not invite me your place afterwards for "tea" because that's bullshit.

You may suggest going to a bar afterwards or a cafe for dessert. That is totally acceptable and totally adorable.

You are going to kiss me at the end of this date, motherfucker. It is going to be so fucking pure and awesome that I should be able to hear Sixpence None The Richer playing in my head while it's happening.

You will then make plans for

the second date, right there and then. You will not say, "I'll call you." You will not say, "I'll text you." And under any circumstances will you NOT say, "I'll facebook you." If you say that I will facebook your FACE.

Because then I will not be able to stop thinking about you. I will be reminded of you every time I see a green M&M or an advertisement for 1-800-CLOSETWORLD. Why? Because we will have private jokes about these things. I will facebook stalk you and look at all of your photos and imagine me in them. I will never, ever tell you this. And then on the next date I will kiss you so fucking hard your face will FUCKING SHATTER. CAN YOU DEAL WITH THAT SHIT?

That is how you date in '08. Crap it's '09 now. Fuck

that. Here is what you do NOT do on a FIRST date:

-- "Hey, wanna watch a movie at my place?" Everyone and their Grandpa Fergeson knows that that is code for making out. Not only is that a skeezy first date but it's lame too.

-- "Hey, let's drink champagne in my jacuzzi, what what." This is not a first date either. I actually once had a guy ask me if we could do that in MY jacuzzi. I said, "You better be bringing the fucking champagne." He didn't. JACUZZI DATE OVER.

-- The worst date I have ever been on was with some poor soul college kid who didn't have anything planned and

had me meet him at Border's. Yeah, that was it. So from there we wandered around Westwood and I had to convince him to get our palms read because I'm quirky like that. AND HE HAD NO MONEY SO I HAD TO PAY. Then he wanted to take me to his frat house so we could play guitar hero (GH had just come out so I guess this was kind of a big deal to him.) I would have gotten out of there but he was my ride so I had no choice. I watched him and his friends play Guitar Hero. Then he took me for a walk around campus. Yes. Then we made out on the grass. That part was OK.

But then...

then...

HE PEED ON A TREE. IN FRONT OF ME. WITH NO APOLOGIES.

We were walking and he said, "Hold on a second", walked over to a tree, and peed on it. My mouth was hanging open and he said, "What's wrong?" And I said, "Uh...you're peeing. That's what's wrong." And he said, "There aren't any nearby restrooms that are open." And I said, "You're peeing in front of me." DATE OVER.

Dramatic Reading of a Break-Up Letter

This has got to be the WORST BREAK-UP LETTER EVER!!!!!!!! And having someone READ it OUT frikkin' LOUD... oh man, my stomach literally hurt just having to listen.

So listen for yourself. And I swear... listen long and hard.

(And I finally learned how to embed!!! Fuck yeah. Now take the time out to listen to this.)

 

Mikamouse and Roninose

Nung bata pa kami...

Ako yung pinaka-cool saming apat. (Ngayon medyo baduy nako pero ayos lang.) Syempre yung ate namin masyado ng "mature" kaya di sya nakikisali sa mga laro namin. Kaya ako lang nakinabang sa katangahan ng mga bunso kong kapatid. They were sooooooooo naive...

I was the "ate" with all the fun games ~ Tying Roni up with scarves and locking her up in the closet so she can "pretend" to be Harry Houdini while I leave her to WOW me with her escape as I nonchalantly watched TV in the living room. Or pushing them off the top bunk of my bed with Barbie Foam Bath in their mouth whenever they got my trivia questions wrong (don't worry, they fell on their beds below --- we shared one room back in Newark). Or making them (the reindeer) pull me (Mrs. Claus) on my red make-shift sleigh. And our favorite game...

We used to just sit around and talk about how poor we were.

And it was fun.

Now, these two have grown up and have become two of the most amazingly beautiful women I've ever seen (next to our Ate Paula) and sometimes, I feel intimidated just being around them. Though usually, I just feel I can no longer keep up with their party-hearty ways... too afraid I won't be able to get to work the next day. *baduy*

But during those rare occasions I DO decide to go out with them, I see just how fun they are and how lucky I am to have them for my sisters. They're so stupid and funny and ridiculous and wild and crazy and sweet and lovable... I don't get why there are just some people who don't like them. Then again...

The green-eyed monster is green indeed. =P

But my sisters are so cool.

Got it from me, no doubt.


***Ate Pow!!! Uwi na! Party na ito!

Freshmen.

In light of random, UN-fortuitous events, it has forced me to ponder upon the subject of "friends" and just how important genuine friendship is to a person. I suppose you could say I was given some inspiration... a muse came my way, so much like myself... someone of such unbending faith and loyalty, someone always willing to help... and sometimes, also willing to drive her own self crazy while attempting to make other people "uncrazy". Because that's what friends do --- they are our pillars of strength, our devil's advocates, our unsilent mirrors... the ones who will go to Hell and back with you... sometimes, even FOR you... without anything in return except for maybe... just maybe, a small, humble acknowledgement, that their presence... their very existence... helped you realize your better self. Because more often than not, you really are as strong as your friends say you are.

And because I was able to keep a lot of memorabilia from back when I was still in school, here are three letters I wrote to each of my three good friends before I had to take that final march as a UP student. I began each letter with this:

“For the life of me, I cannot remember what made us think that we were wise and we’d never compromise. For the life of me, I cannot believe we’d ever die for these sins, we were merely freshmen…”

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Sis Monna,

We’ve been together since day one of the UPLB experience… since the days of Mcdivith (ok, more like one day cuz you guys didn’t come back for our block meetings)… since we began to cut class just to go to Tambayan Online for a few beers… since we joined UP Socius and you and I became the automatic “favorites” of the brods… since the days of love… of trial and error… of fooling around… of failing econ 11… since your pregnancy (should I make that plural? =)… since our drunken days… our sullen days… our drunken days… our crying ladies drama… our drunken days… our bandaged hands… (oh and did I mention our drunken days?)…

We’ve been thru so much (and I know that that itself is an understatement)… we’ve been thru more than most girls our age and then some… we’ve faltered and fallen… we’ve risen and we’ve vomited… we’ve taken things forgranted and we’ve thanked God for all of our blessings… for passing Soc 198 under the influence of “the Horse”… we’ve conquered life and love and fear with every meeting at KA and every gulp of our coffee (biosci especially)… even if you’ve spilled half of your cup on your hand… and smoked like a chimney… we held on to each others hands, tears, laughs, smiles, and bitchy remarks… thru it all… we simply were… the best of friends.

This is actually hard for me. I’ve written a good 500plus papers to some of the toughest professors known to man yet… I still have such a difficult time expressing just how significant our friendship was to my college life and how it still makes such an impression on my life as I’m living it.

I don’t wanna bullshit… and I don’t wanna make this too serious (because you and I were never really serious about ANYTHING)… and that’s what made us such an incomparable, inseparable pair – our ability to shrug things off when everybody else was stressing about school and their significant others and other melodramatic instances that life has to offer. But I guess I want you to see just how sincere this really is… even though I’m forever going to hike on you and drei about shopping at broadway gems. =P

God knows that I wouldn’t be the person I am today without you as my confidant. You taught me a lot, Sis. And for someone who thinks that she knows everything, there you are to shed new light… and make me feel stupid for being such a relentless bitch, haha! But then again, you were also one of the few people who saw right thru that… and accepted and loved me for who I was… and that’s probably one of the greatest blessings I’ve ever received… and I am deeply indebted to you and the precious memories you’ve given me. They will definitely be reiterated and reminisced in the years ahead.

If you were a crayon… you’d be a pink.

From the bottom of this merciless, tactless, retarded heart… I thank you.

You will always, always have a friend and a sister in me. (And I better stop this before I start crying… =)

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Sis Dre,

Stunning…

Hun, you and I both know that that’s hardly an adjective fit for a woman like you. (I guess that’s also why I never really liked you much in the beginning… aside from being GJ’s supposed girlfriend =) You reminded me of… myself. (And that’s a f*cking compliment so be thankful!) Hard, relentless, unfazed… cool calm and utterly reserved… you were always my standard of grace and unbreakable loyalty. Never in a million years would I have dreamed that you would become one of my favorite people during our UPLB experience. (Oh god, I feel like crying now…)

I thought I was ok with the friends I had (well maybe just Monna)… but surprisingly and fortunately, you came along and joined UP Socius… and I found another friend who would serve as one of my sources of strength and inspiration. I learned that it’s ok to cry and that it was never a sign of weakness to admit to a broken heart. That was such a hard lesson to learn… for the both of us, I guess… but with you right there… I found a cushion and a ray of light and hope that perhaps someday, we would find it, hold it, and never let it go.

Then again, we were usually drunk out of our minds when we had those epiphanies so I don’t know whether I should’ve taken those days seriously. Hahahaha!!!

My down-ass bitch… shit… I feel like the most beautiful girl around you and your constant words of encouragement (and flattery). And whenever I felt like I was fucking up being president, you were always there to remind me of your unbending faith. I simply could not ask more out of our friendship. And to this day, I would like to be there to give back all that you’ve so generously given me… as a sister and a friend.

I wouldn’t want anyone else to be with me when it comes to hiking on the exes and the not-so-exes but will be soon with our conniving, hehehe!

And if you would allow it… I would want to be there when that heart of yours is finally tamed. (So I can make fun of you for being such a girl and so that GJ and I can get you and Monna a new wallet for your wedding. =)

But even if it doesn’t and you grow up to be a lonely spinster who’s successfully conquered the corporate world… I would still want to be there to pour you your first glass of Paradise when you wanna rant about why men seem to like those innocent-looking but ugly-ass girls named after fruits who can’t write comprehensive sentences and don’t know how to use grammar check when writing their papers. =P

If ever all of that comes to pass (God-forbid)… I wish that you retain that haughty self-impression of yours that’s beautiful, remarkable, and absolutely…

Stunning.

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Brod GJ,

What do you say to your reflection? For someone who is like me in almost every single way… I don’t think I really would know what to say without meaning the same things for myself.

I’ll try to keep the melodrama short…

GJ… you will always be the man who will keep me guessing. Perfection would’ve been achievable with you… but then again… two pathologically perfect people were never meant to be together in such a cruel world… with us as king and queen reigning over it with utter criticism and cynicism.

But knowing you like knowing me, there is a shade you possess that’s soft, admirable, and maybe even hopelessly romantic. And to have been given the chance to see that more tender side is truly overwhelming… because it inspires me to accept who I am.

Of course I won’t ever forget the dominant bitch in you… that quality of yours that’s made me laugh ridiculously with such fervor (girlfriend, fervor means passion, hehehe!). The metrosexual friend I’ve grown to love so much… even if love is still undefined and overrated… sometimes, all it takes is a beer and a few Christmas songs to help us put our walls down and show a side of vulnerability… but only between you and me.

To be completely honest… there are moments when I wonder what it would be like if you and I were… together. (But when I remember how much of a manwhore you are, I realize how grateful I am that we’re just friends, Clammy, hahahaha!!!)

This is like a self-profession because all that I want for you is all I’ve ever wanted for me… or at least, all I’ve ever cared to admit. I want you to find the one thing you shun and abhor… or think you hate… and love it to the point that you can’t live without it. I want you to be as passionate with love as you are with your creative talent… and dancing prowess, you gay sex-bomb dancer wanna-be, hahaha!!! But at the same time, I want you to retain the funny, tactless, attitude problem you have… the star complex that’s inspired me and Monna and Dre to not take shit from anyone… to continue making fun of people who are wearing ugly clothes or who walk funny or who trip in front of us… even if they don’t deserve our mean-girl demeanor.

And I want you to be there when I need someone to debate with me whenever I’m turning into a Marcos... over cigarettes, coffee, and maybe a few beers.

I love you, GJ. (Oooh… the vomit just came into my mouth… =)

You’re why I’m so proud to be me… and I don’t think there will ever be anyone I consider as close to my ideals as you. (Then again, my ideals are all fucked up anyway.) You make being sexy, naughty, bitchy look so damn hot!!


LOVE,

Michelle

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Taken after I had just given birth and looking like shit --- from left fo right: Guise, Drei, Me, Monna, and GJ

(I love them to pieces...)

One of these days, I shall take my pen and paper and write everyone who's ever touched my life significantly, in a big or small way. (Maybe this Christmas... =)

But right now... you are acknowledged... and appreciated. Thank you for sticking by me... even if it meant going against your loyalties. If it's any consolation, at least your principles were in check. And thank you for keeping MY principles in check. It may not mean much to you, but it certainly means much to me. Thank you for going crazy to make me UN-crazy. =)

Thank you, thank you.