Wednesday, October 15, 2008

How far would you go on your first date?

Found this a year ago and re-posting. I so love how Emma wrote this. People may or may not disagree, depending on their morals. :p

Oh to be neither slut nor saint…

by Emma Cerise

When I was in college, I never really deviated from textbook first-date protocol: meal, movie, coffee, all followed by a yap fest of your finest qualities—two people bouncin’ to the boogie with only their best feet on the dance floor. This has to continue many more times because everyone knows that only girls with loose morals allow themselves to be kissed on the first date. I learned this in Bullshit 101.

I eventually graduated and got a job, where I one day overheard a woman recounting how her first date one night ended. Details were sketchy but I remember it was with more than a peck on the cheek. I wondered if she was a slut, because she didn’t look like one. So I asked her why she did what she did on that first date. She smiled at me and said, “Because he was Italian, and I have a libido.” Turns out she wasn’t a slut. She was the company vice-president—smart, funny, successful, approachable, with double Master’s in Economics and Modern Literature. And she had become my muse. So the first thing I did with my paycheck was buy myself a backbone, the kind that allowed me not to give a flying fffffft what my reputation would be by the water cooler. And then I discovered a secret still unknown to the nuns in my high school—that even if they confiscate your libido, IT GROWS BACK.

Fair Share Of First Dates
There was the requisite blind date, which, like all blind dates I’ve had, was capped with beso and a solemn silent promise never to see him again.

There was the EB. Back when Friendster was still the number-one online pastime, a guy sent me a witty message about my taste in books. After a few more online repartees, and since he was a friend of a friend (i.e. certified non-serial killer), we met up for a few drinks. Conversation was even better in person. Unfortunately, no stirrings in my loins. I liked talking to him, sure, I just didn’t have the faintest desire for him. Not even after my fourth cocktail. And that was that.

There was the pick-up. My best bud Sab and I were enjoying a quiet night of brewskies at a quaint bar in Mandaluyong. When she went to the little girls’ room, a guy from a gaggle of young laddies one table away came over and asked if he could join. The first thing I asked was, “Is this a friggin’ dare?” He was younger than me: as in fresh out of college when I was receiving my nth paycheck. But I relented and had him take a seat, so Sab and I could pick on him. But he still got my number, still texted when I got home, and still asked me out. I indulged him if only for the fact that he was ballsy beyond his years. But also because he was actually cute and I figured I could use a good lay. The first date came, followed by a few more. We were bonding…but with too many clothes on. He was too nice when all I wanted was a little wham and bam. Besides, I like being called “ma’am.”

Then there was the hook-up. I joined a friend with a few of her surfer buds and came upon a delicious-looking surfer from out of town. Technically, that was our first date, albeit with a group. We hit it off and flirted shamelessly with each other. I ended up bringing him to my place and putting his sun-kissed, six-packed bod to good use.

First date dilemma: to be naughty or nice?
(Models for visual aid only! Me hamming it up with photographer buddy Chino Acosta who was at the Female Network shoot.)

What I did notice, though, was that I never quite went the whole nine yards on a first date with guys I eventually got involved with. Oh it wasn’t even about “I like him too much to have sex with him on the first date,” coz that’s just not how the math works in my universe. If I like you, then I will jump you. If you happen to be among the unfortunate breed of guys who only think of girls in terms of sinner or saint, I’d rather leave you mid-dinner than make like a virgin—I’m a girl who likes my remote controls, so posturing takes too much effort for me.

But I digress.

I guess when it comes to guys that I connected with on other levels, I realized the difference between “I like your abs” and “I like your abs and your sense of humor and your impersonation of Robin Williams giving face and how unassuming you are despite being profoundly intelligent and how you’re witty but never sarcastic and how you’re nice to the waiters even when you think I’m not looking.” Too many things get in the way of what could’ve been just a casual roll in the hay.

So, How Far Should You Go On A First Date?

As far as you want to take it and can actually handle, I suppose.

Just a tip: if you want flexibility in choice, get your own place. I mean, really, stranger-banging across the hall from your parents’ bedroom? More effective than a cold shower. Coz if you don’t have your own place, then it’s either the guy’s crib or a motel. In which case, the question should be, “Should You Go To Mariposa On Your First Date?” My personal answer, despite my loose morals, would be a “Hell no.”

And if you put out, put out because you want to or because you’re horny or because your vibrator’s out of batteries—never because you’re window-shopping for a relationship. We’ve all seen this before: it’s the next day, he hasn’t called, and you turn psycho-bitch on him in 0.2 seconds. We’re tired of your kind giving the rest of us a bad name!

One thing’s for sure, though: this is not something one should contemplate if they still believe that jumping up and down after unprotected sex will prevent them from getting pregnant. The female body is NOT like a box of Tic-Tacs—sperm is not gonna tumble out just because you make it alog.

Full text at: I Got the Moon On My Mind (a Femalenetwork Blog)

Tuesday, September 23, 2008

Lipstick Memories: A History

6. Sep. 2008

Pucker up. Not.

Many, many years ago, men would have never considered kissing temptresses with scarlet-painted lips. Women, meanwhile, would have been extra careful not to smear crisp white polos with their lipstick — for kiss marks, then, did not have the sexy, sublime symbolism that they have now. Back then, lipstick was more than just an aesthetic tool and its mark, left memories of no less than forlorn tragedies of maladies and injustices.

What many are not aware of are the events that accompanied the evolution of women’s best-selling cosmetic. It took centuries of queer ingenuities backed up by numerous controversies to give lipstick its current form and space in the purse.

Beauty that breeds self-esteem and attracts the opposite sex, may have been the gist behind the invention of lipstick some five thousand years ago in ancient Mesopotamia. However, more often than not, beholders in the succeeding eras have not warmly regarded women who paint their lips. What is now a tiny tube of wax and color has a long history of conflicts between women and men; of being wanted, needed and loved versus being loathed, condemned and banned.

So the question is: why?

Did lipstick play an underlying role in fatal attractions that threatened men so much to the point that authorities had to impose bans in ways that range from logical to downright foolish?

Practically speaking, lip paint in ancient Egypt contained ingredients that resulted into serious illnesses – a valid point for lipstick to be completely banned from use. Later on, however, human ingenuity has paved the way for safer and easier to apply versions.

So what remains a puzzle is that, if lipstick then was not safe for use, then how come it was the male-dominated societies and institutions which stereotyped, if not forbade its use and not the women who wore them and faced the risk of mixing lipstick with their food?

History shows that ancient Rome reserved the use of lip paint to prostitutes. Meanwhile, in medieval times, lipstick was given a more despicable position by its association to the devil. More recent periods show attempts to outlaw lipstick as in 1770 when the British Parliament passed a law to make lipstick illegal and in 1924 when the New York Board of Health considered banning lipstick out of fear that it might poison men who kissed women who wore them.

It can be noted that some of the most powerful women in history were behind the craze for sexy red lips. Cleopatra, the Queen of Nile and the mother of cosmetics, crushed carmine beetles and ants to give her lips a deep red pigment (Wikipedia). Elizabeth I, meanwhile, repealed the medieval condemnation of lipstick when she popularized the classic Golden Age look of stark white faces and “piercing red lips” (The World Book Encyclopedia). Pop history later depicts sex symbol Marilyn Monroe puckering up bright red lips to compliment her blonde locks and creamy complexion -- something which men found alluring yet society considered scandalous.

Nowadays, lipstick remains as an indicator of a woman’s position in the society. Dark shades are reserved for women with power while the brighter shades (puta red-type of colors... pardon the French) are associated to those who are “loose” and ostracized in the society. The writer’s experience is reminiscent of men who prefer that their girlfriends look au naturel – meaning, no lipstick as much as possible.

Given this brief, effortless research, it may not be impossible to assume that the lipstick ban transcends physical reasons. The earlier times may have not been too keen on granting women with their much-deserved self-esteem for fear that it may cause infidelities and allow women to covet the roles of men. However, these days, it may just be due to the fact that men just want to be pleased according to what they deem as pleasant.

It is unimaginable that what seems to be a tiny object kept in women’s purses has gone through such bizarre history. So the next time an urge to comment “it’s like putting lipstick on a pig” or “it’s possibly lipstick on the collar” is nagging, just think about all the men who gave women a hard time just because of painting their lips. Women, nowadays, must not wear lipstick for a man but rather out of a sheer desire to please themselves.

1 Why Women Wear Lipstick: Preliminary Findings by Madeleine Ogilvie and Pauline Kristensen-Bach
2 Wikipedia
3 The World Book Encyclopedia (Whoever thought encyclopedias are passé)
4 Photo from

Writer’s Note: The original version of this blog was written days earlier than the published version of Lipstick Memories. Now, this serves as a supplemental reading to those who enjoyed LM.

Friday, August 15, 2008

Blue & Green: Back-to-Back So-Hot Bachelors


Enough of Chris Tiu. I find him too perfect to be exciting. I am giving it to Ateneo Blue Eagles 6'7" center RABEH Al-HUSSAINI who is undeniably UAAP Season 71's Most Improved Player.

Tall, brown-skinned and not-so gwapo... Don't these make such an exciting come on for girls?

But yeah, too bad, he currently has a girl friend.


Well, although I cheer a lot for my alma mater's team, my eyes cannot help but wander to the green side on Ateneo-La Salle games and zoom in on hot, hott, hottt DLSU point guard SIMON ATKINS. Lean, bad boy-looking mestizos certainly rock! Isn't he a sight to enjoy in Araneta and along EDSA with his sexy underwear billboards?

Come on. Take me to the green side!

Wanna see more of Simon?

"See Simon and a blue ball between his legs, a half-naked Simon cocking a rifle, a shirtless twink Simon, Simon proudly showing off his golden bird, Simon squatting, Simon in a girly pose, etcetera, etcetera..." (Misterhubs) at

Monday, June 16, 2008

Ransom by noon

The government and its mediators have been given until noon to pay P15 million as ransom for ABS-CBN jounralist Ces Drilon, cameraman Jimmy Encarnacio and MSU Prof. Octavio Dinampo.

The latest news is that the deadline is extended to 2 pm.

Boy, the Abu Sayyaf is really in need of money. This must be very scary for the hostages and their families. And again, the question of whether to pay the ransom or not plays in the heads of everyone. While the government may adhere to its "no ransom policy" (or did they just okay P500k each per hostage?), will not the families and supporters of the hostages secretly give in?

We'll never know. It's easy to think of greater good when you're from the outside looking in. But what about those who will be left behind? Can there be any chance that a common good will be reached?

But heck, why do I wish these bad guys good?

Friday, June 13, 2008

It's downtime for Ces and Hillary

What could have been a good Monday for many Filipinos was bugged by one big question: where is Ces Drilon?

People then were buzzing with the question as Ces Drilon, a celebrated Filipino journalist, together with two cameramen and a history researcher, were said to be missing. Nobody can confirm the news until ABS-CBN released their statement on Monday evening. They have indeed launched a news blackout and is trying to contain the situation by not causing national panic and sensationalism. The news about Ces was even reported at the latter portion of TV Patrol and kept at a very short and objective level.

Again, unverified sources of information (as I missed the news during the past 2 days) say that the ransom is around P10 to P30 million--an amount that Ces, ABS-CBN and their supporters can easily raise. While the release of one cameraman has caused more speculations and violent reactions, still we're faced with another moral ambiguity: should ransom be paid to get the three remaining hostages safe and free or should we just follow GMA's no-ransom mandate?

It's easy to choose the latter option. Why would we support the Abu Sayyaf and encourage precedence? The government cannot just initiate making an industry out of kidnapping, right?

But if you put yourself in the shoes of the hostages and their families, you may just think otherwise. Your concern will always be their safety. (Omg, this reminds me of Gracia Burnham's story...)

The abduction of Ces and her companions is another indication of how maimed our freedom of press is. Ces, being a nationally-acclaimed journalist, was taken as a hostage by the Abu Sayyaf on the week of Independence Day! This must explain why nobody wants to celebrate Independence Day.

I'm just thinking how bad Ces' fate must be. I remember Ces being one of the journalists who witnessed the siege initiated by Sen. Trillanes. She eventually got detained and was suspected to have a link, or at least know beforehand, Trillanes' plot. I applaud her for her very sassy answer: "If I knew then I wouldn't have worn heels."

There you go, fashionista. I hope and pray that you'll be out soon without anyone having to shed millions or blood.

* * *

Likewise, last week (or last, last week--pardon my lost sense of time) was a downtime for Hillary Clinton. I am not really a big fan of Hillary's but the thing is, I kind of felt that my hope for a woman to finally become a US president was extinguished. Well, slightly at least.

Oh well... But she was gracious enough to have accepted defeat. She was mighty brave as well to have not given up the fight.

(Looking back, I admire this woman for her strong spirit. I would have lost face and grace if the world has known that my husband was cheating on me under our very own roof.)

Anyway, she may not have succeeded the race for the Democrats' presidential candidate. But Hillary Rodham Clinton has raised hopes for countless women. Yes, I do hope that I'll be able to witness the oath-taking of the first woman US citizen while I'm still alive and senile. :)

Good news to all who are just so mad about their lashes!

Forget about having to book yourself for an eyelash re-touch every month or so. You may as well stop gluing and peeling your lashes on night outs or better yet, ditch your mascara forever.

Brace yourselves girls--the wonders of science has made it possible for you to have real long, sweeping lashes!

Ladies and gentlemen: the all-new eyelash transplant surgery.

Yes, it's the same procedure being used by hair transplant surgeons. And what's even more amazing about it is that since they are made of human hair, the lashes will grow just like any human lashes.

According to Michele Cheplic, "The procedure is fairly simple in that surgeons are only required to make a small incision at the back of the scalp to remove 30 or 40 hair follicles, which are carefully sewn one by one onto the patient's eyelids. Doctors say the procedure requires just light sedation and local anesthetics. And the cost for the eyelash makeover? About $3,000 an eye."

Phew! That's mighty expensive!

But what I have heard from the local grapevine is that, cosmetic surgeons such as Belo are already doing it for P50,000. This is not yet confirmed. But anyhoo, foreigners just might keep on coming here!

So if you have enough moolah to afford the procedure, then you won't have to worry about getting racoon eyes from running mascara or falling lashes in the middle of making googoo eyes with your date.

Wednesday, June 4, 2008

Getting CARRIEd Away

Ironically, it took one phrase that started with "sex" to break a self-inflicted abstinence. (On movies, that is. You dirty minds! :p) With two girls and bunches of tears and laughter, it was aALL worth it.

I so, so loOove SATC, the girls, the clothes, the SHOES and the purses! Sigh...

Anyway, Saturday was a date with two of my great girl friends.

Dinner and cocktails at Jack's Loft

More cocktails at Cafe Adriatico

Saturday, May 31, 2008

Every Woman and Mr. Big

A Donald Trump who only looked better.

I remember that this was how Samantha referred to Mr. Big back in Season 1--before Carrie's neverending on-and-off relationship with him started.

Oh I love Mr. Big. His larger than life character in Sex and the City is actually one which I can so relate some historic boylettes to. I love him in spite of all the Carrie love affair drama because somehow I find myself in the same pair of shoes that Carrie was in. (Let it be MANOLOS. Please!)

Last night, a friend was so full of similes in her SMS - her beau and Mr. Big being the two subjects of comparison. Months ago, another girl friend was doing the same thing.

And so it hit me: I am not alone. Mr. Big is someone every woman share.

The character of Mr. Big was created as an embodiment of a cosmopolitan woman's dream bachelor. Tall, good-looking, successful and rich - don't we all have thought of ourselves ending up with someone who meets the criteria. (Well, unless you're into short, ugly and miserable.) Look at how they kept him as Mr. Big and never revealed what his real name is. It was for us to keep a connection with him. Yet, when his name was later revealed in the movie, this connection seems to have lost. Mr. Big became Mr. Preston who gives Carrie a happily ever after ending - something which we all just are not sure to have.

But Mr. Big is every woman's Mr. Big not because of his fantastical stature. Women of 20s and 30s all over can connect to him simply because he represents that one special man who's came in and gone out of our lives for reasons we never know. He's the guy who seems to have loved us - shown it in ways not known in the books we read as little girls - but had a hard time (if not never) verbally expressing it. Every woman knows that he feels something for them but for some vague, incomprehensible reason, he cannot commit.

Yes, we felt like an ultimate priestess in high heels and tutu-like skirts (imagine the classic Carrie Bradshaw look) when he did all those lovely things to us. But after his disappearing act, we feel so reduced to nothing but well, a hot potato.

So after so many nights of partying hard with our girl friends, going home wasted and drunkdialling Mr. Big (not to mention the number of Kleenex boxes we consumed, the packs of cigarettes we shamlessly smoked, the number of times we sang Carly Simon's Nobody Does It Better while lying down drunk on our bedroom floor and the moments that we secretly felt like Bridget Jones), we realize that it's time for you to move on.

We meet someone like Adan. We think he's not as big as Mr. Big but we realize that he's actually the one who's good for us. We're contented and everyone knows we're happy. Then all of a sudden, coming from what-sort-of-void there is in our little worlds, our Mr. Big makes a re-appearance.

How many times have women been haunted by their past? How many times have we moved on only to find ourselves faced with our past once again? So that if we have made 15 slow and painful steps away from the past, we find ourselves quickly sliding 20 steps back.

Imagine going through this for so many times. Good god. Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the rollercoaster ride of your dreams!

One unforgettable SATC episode was when Carrie told Mr. Big that he makes the worst timing whenever he comes back to her life. He reappears everytime Carrie is already happy and in a sense, ruins everything that she has worked hard for. (In this case, I think the void must've been our very own contentment... hmm?)

That Carrie moment struck a chord in me and I guess among countless other women too. It happened more than once, you know.

When Carrie finally made the big move to Paris with the older artiste, Aleksandr Petrovsky, I was happy for her but at the back of my head, I could not resist having my own what-ifs for her. Petrovky sounded like a Harlequin dream guy. He's the guy who seems to be the redeemer of fallen women.

It was a good thing that the movie ended with Mr. Big reappearing just when Carrie needed him the most. It was perfect timing for a perfect ending.

Now, won't you tell me who your Mr. Big is?

Author's Note: The article was revised from its originial write-up posted last year at one of her many, many blogs.

Monday, May 19, 2008

Why I Love Shoes... Over Men

Let me tell you why...

One womanly wisdom famously passed on from mothers to daughters is to never step on a man's pride. Ever.

To make it easy to remember, just think: Step on a man's pride and you'll get dumped like a pauper. Step on a fab pair of stilettos and you feel like a queen.

So won't it be a smart decision to have a pair of shoes you can always step on rather than a man thou shalt never challenge?

Another reason why I prefer shoes over men is that you can bring them along with you everywhere--from shopping trips to a girl's night out, and they won't ever complain. Though your feet will, at least, at the end of the day, you know that you only need a foot therapy for sacrificing comfort over style.

Unlike with men, it's always okay to lend a pair of shoes to a girl friend. There will be no jealousy involved and in fact, the owner can always give sincere tips on how to get sexy with them.

Shoes are also low maintenance. Except for a few minor repairs (and bet, you wouldn't mind your shoes getting a quick fix wit Mr. Quickie), it's also okay to leave a shoe alone and untouched in the closet. You can always be certain it's never gonna wander off with another owner. Sigh.

And most of all, you can keep tens, hundreds or even thousands of trophy shoes and NEVER be labeled promiscuous. But keeping two men around will certainly encourage chismis.

So can you blame me if I'd rather spend a Friday night shoe-hunting?

Sunday, May 11, 2008

Happy Mother's Day!

I consider every Mother's Day as a blessing. I thank God for another year spent with my mom and my daughter. I'm also very happy that so many people remembered to greet me.

Dad has to be away today and so we just celebrated yesterday. Nothing fancy. But it was good enough we celebrated in the company of each other. Below are some pictures:

Last year, I ended my Mother's Day post at my Multiply with Boyz II Men's Song for Mama. This year, I'll be ending my post here with this poem by William Ross Wallace.

The Hand that Rocks the Cradle is
the Hand that Rules the World

Blessings on the hand of women!
Angels guard its strength and grace,
In the palace, cottage, hovel,
Oh, no matter where the place;
Would that never storms assailed it,
Rainbows ever gently curled;
For the hand that rocks the cradle
Is the hand that rules the world.
Infancy's the tender fountain,
Power may with beauty flow,
Mother's first to guide the streamlets,
From them souls unresting grow--
Grow on for the good or evil,
Sunshine streamed or evil hurled;
For the hand that rocks the cradle
Is the hand that rules the world.
Woman, how divine your mission
Here upon our natal sod!
Keep, oh, keep the young heart open
Always to the breath of God!
All true trophies of the ages
Are from mother-love impearled;
For the hand that rocks the cradle
Is the hand that rules the world.
Blessings on the hand of women!
Fathers, sons, and daughters cry,
And the sacred song is mingled
With the worship in the sky--
Mingles where no tempest darkens,
Rainbows evermore are hurled;
For the hand that rocks the cradle
Is the hand that rules the world.

Being a mother is both a blessing and a responsibility.

Again, happy mother's day to all! :)

Monday, May 5, 2008

Good news to all Sex and the City girlfriends

It's official: there are no deaths in Sex and the City.

Proof? Click 'Sex and the City' director addresses death rumor .

I just hope it's true. And yay, I can't wait to watch it later this May with my beautiful girlfriends :)

Tuesday, April 15, 2008

The Empress Wears New Style

I've been wrongfully accused of fashion crimes one too many times.

When I wore couture shorts to a dinner or gimmick six months before the Wowowee hosts started wearing them, I was told I'm being promiscuous.

When I bought the first set of skinny jeans arrivals in the country, I had to brace myself from snapping to an officemate who muttered "fit na fit ang jeans mo ah" after saying "wow! ang sexy" audibly. Four or five months after, she was crazy about purchasing a 350-peso pair from another officemate.

Now that I have been so crazy about high waisted pencil skirts, I get similar comments from people in the office. (Geez... I bought my first high waisted skirt months before the ASAP girls wore them in the show. And still, to them, I was so 80s. Well, I'm thinking of 50s but if that's what they think, then so be it.)

You're just baduy and outdated, I'd silently say to myself whenever an office jerk would tell me that.

It might be that I'm just being sensitive about it. But the thing is I really get irked whenever a less-fashionable person tells me those things. I would've called it constructive criticism if it comes from someone with a relatively good fashion taste or even from someone with a better fashion sense. But come on! Don't tell me those things when you'll be rushing to the nearest tiangge to buy similar clothes just because you've seen some local icon wear them on a variety show.

It's not that I have negative notions about local icons and variety shows. I watch them and find their hosts pretty. What I am trying to rant about is the attitude of the people I know.

However, putting myself in their grade school boy shoes (hehe), could it be that fashion for the masa (general public) is an acquired taste? Like, could high waisted skirts and skinny jeans be really ugly and it's just the common opinion of fashion trendsetters that make them likeable?

Think of it this way: a decade or more after when our daughters will look at our old pictures, how would they react over our clothes and our dos? Will they laugh at them or will they marvel at them the way we do whenever we see Audrey Hepburn and Jackie O's old pictures?

It may be similar to Hans Christian Andersen's children's story, The Emperor Wears New Clothes. People will say the clothes look great though they really don't--because there were no clothes after all. It just took one naughty kid (who was not taught by his mother to shut up when needed) to point out that the emperor was in fact, naked.

So are the office jerks being the undisciplined kid? And I, do I look like a fool just like the emperor? Are the fashion designers and trendsetters tricking us?

Celebrities are the best advertisers of fashion (and fad). They are the ones who bridge the runway and the street. Their tastes are always the most crucial in popularizing trends. Trends actually start with them and a few other personalities until they are copied by the general public.

I just come somewhere in between. But the thing is, at least I'm not the last copycat.

Thursday, April 10, 2008

Mad About Lashes 2: An Update

I found a very nice feature on lash enhancements over at Shopcrazy. Here's a salon and a product I'm just dying to try.

1. Grace Lagman Salon
...which has been doing lash extensions since the 70s. And for a ultra affordable price of P420(that's as of 2006)

2. Mikaela Growth Conditioner
... which is supposed to make the lashes fuller and longer.

Boo! I can't wait to know more about them. It's 8 AM pa lang in the office and so far nobody from Grace Lagman or Mikaela is answering the phone.

For the meantime,please click here to read the Shopcrazy article.

Lalalalala, time to prettify my lashes once again =p


I just talked to someone at Philosophy (by Mikaela) and found out more about the wonder product: Mikaela Growth Conditioner.

It's actually a lash treatment formula which can be applied to the lashes through it's mascara-like applicator.

I also found out that women have been swearing on these that's why they are now all out of stock :( New stocks will most likely arrive late this month. Price is something around 1,400 pesos per piece.

Wednesday, March 26, 2008

The Dating Caste System

I'm afraid that the clichė “all is fair in love” does not always apply in love's very own prerequisite: dating.

When Carrie said in a SATC episode that New York's class system has been replaced by the Caste System, I cannot help but partly agree on behalf of the Philippine society.

How many guys have forgone chances of asking out the girl of their dreams by saying “she's out of my league”? And just how many girls have stuck up their noses and shunned the baduy, the nerdy and most especially, the poor boy?

As dating is a venue for both parties to get to know each other, lifestyles play a big role in compatibility. Compatibility usually determines whether the parties will move on to the next level, stay behind or just stop dating. Doesn't social status have something to do with our ways of life?

In the Philippine version of the caste system, the difficulty lies more on the shoulders of men than in women. Given that the role of the chief provider has been given to men, more pressure is put on them to meet, if not exceed, the lifestyle that the woman's father was able to provide her. That is why we hear men saying “I cannot date her because I cannot afford her.”
It may be easier for women since family names and income is determined by the man. There may be whispering and eyebrow-raising behind but still, if the man fights for her, then so be it. What the disapproving parents can only do is to take away his trust fund or refuse to give his inheritance.

But earlier, I stressed that I only partly agree that the Caste System exists in the Philippines. Let me explain why. defines Caste System as:

“A system of social stratification in which social position is determined by the family into which a person is born, and change in that position is usually not possible during an individual's lifetime.”

The Caste System was originally part of the ancient Hindu culture. It is very discriminating such that persons of higher castes cannot associate themselves with those of lower castes. The Brahmins, Kshatriyas and the Vaishyas cannot even touch the Shudras (lowest caste performing the most menial of jobs) and much more that they cannot marry them.

Though discrimination based on Caste has been prohibited in India since the late 40s, it's effect is still deeply ingrained in India's culture.

Caste is determined by birth. It doesn't have anything to do with achievements outside of the dictates of one's caste.

This is where I disagree.

Perhaps the Caste System exists in Philippines' upper class society where the Elizaldes marry the Aranetas or the Prietos marry the Lagdameos. These families usually marry those who are born of the same status. Besides, they are not likely to mingle with those belonging to lower classes due to differences in lifestyles. (One is usually labeled a freeloader when seen hanging out with those whose lifestyles he or she cannot afford.)

But in high middle class societies and down to the lowest ones, birth-based castes are loosely observed. It is in these classes where achievements in life matter and where mixed society mingling is possible. This is where self-made millionaires with rags to riches stories end up marrying their Belles. This is where having a Bongkinki or a Bagonggahasa last name will not matter. On second thought, hmm...

I hate the fact that relationships are affected by economic stature but sometimes, it really has something to do with friendships, dating and marriage.

Like, will you ever date someone who dresses like Soulja Boy and brings you to 3 Pinoy Big Sisters Carinderia at Balintawak for dinner?

I'm afraid I won't.

Credits:How does the Hindu Caste System work?
Caste System definition

Friday, March 14, 2008

In light of the Women's Month Celebration

Forgive me for posting no-brainers for the past weeks. And most of all, forgive me too for not coming up with something for the Women's Day last week.

While ideas for topics have been popping in my head, believe me, I am really having a hard time typing them down. I will be writing two women-focused articles... with more substance. But for the meantime, I'll let you read something women-inspired, which was written by Rick Olivares in his blog, Bleacher's Brew.

Please read A Woman's Touch: How the co-educational system changed the Ateneo forever.

Happy reading! =)

Saturday, February 23, 2008

Filipino men should emulate the Philippine Eagle

It's a sad, sad thing that Pinoy machismo is designed along the low-lying ranks of basaguleros like FPJ (I mean, in his movie roles) and real-life womanizers (and should I say pervs) like...

Well, before I burst into more rants. I learned during the Haribon Biodiversity Conservation Session, which I attended, that the Philippine Eagle is not only the rarest, largest and most powerful birds in the world. It is also very loyal. It sticks to its one and only mate even if the mate has already died.

Now, wouldn't the Philippine society be cured of its social illnesses if men will have a change of idols?

Saturday, February 2, 2008

Glamming up the USB

Here's one of the nicest collaborations in the world of technology and bling-blings:
Philips and Swarovski got together to glam up the close-to-boring memory stick. Women can choose to wear them and look fab at the same time, coz the USB itself looks just like a pendant.

Some features

Built-in memory capacity: 1 GB
Transfer rate: 8 mbps read, 3 mbps write
USB connectivity: USB 2.0 high speed
Comes with a necklace and a storage pouch

Photo credits: Philips, Yahoo! Tech

Get well soon Britney!

Good news to those who want to help save Britney...

Early this week, Britney was finally given the help that she needs when she was taken by an ambulance with swarms of policemen (and tailing paparazzis) to be treated for allegedly attempting to commit suicide.

Moreover, Britney's parents (who are divorced by the way), at last joined forces to help their daughter. Hail--Jamie Spear's (Brit's dad) was named her conservator and Osama Lufti (her scumbag manager con friend) was given a restraining order!

Lynne Spears (Brit's mom) intends to bring Brit home to Louisiana once she is released from the hospital. Lynne believes that Brit will never recover in LA.

As for me, my prayers are for Britney =)

Photo credit: Sony BMG

Monday, January 28, 2008

A heartache leave...I WANT!

Got this from Yahoo! News. Wouldn't it be great to have it here in the Philippines? Otherwise, I'd have to call in another sick leave to nurse my would-be broken heart...

TOKYO (Reuters) - Lovelorn staff at a Japanese marketing company can take
paid time off after a bad break-up with a partner, with more "heartache leave"
on offer as they get older.

Tokyo-based Hime & Company, which also gives staff paid time off to hit
the shops during sales season, says heartache leave allows staff to cry
themselves out and return to work refreshed.

"Not everyone needs to take maternity leave but with heartbreak, everyone
needs time off, just like when you get sick," CEO Miki Hiradate, whose company
of six women markets cosmetics and other goods targeted for women, told Reuters
by telephone.

Staff aged 24 years or younger can take one day off per year, while
those between 25 and 29 can take two days off and those older can take three
days off, the company said.

"Women in their 20s can find their next love quickly, but it's tougher
for women in their 30s, and their break-ups tend to be more serious," Hiradate

Hime & Company staff can also take two mornings off twice a year as
"sales shopping leave", so they can race to stores to hunt for bargains.

"Before, women could take half-days off to go to sales, but you'd have
to hide your shopping bags in lockers by the train station," Hiradate

"But with paid leave, we don't have to feel guilty about bringing our
shopping bags to work, and we can enjoy the best part about sales shopping --
talking about our purchases afterwards."
(Reporting by Chisa Fujioka)

Yahoo! News: Japanese firm offers "heartache leave" for staff

Saturday, January 26, 2008


Found these while getting my weekly celeb updates from Perez Hilton.

This was taken during his latest trip to Sierra Leone as a UN Ambassador of Goodwill. Sigh... I'm such a weakling for athletic guys with a heart for the poor.

Here's what David blogged in his official website:

“I’ve just returned from visiting Sierra Leone in Africa as part of my role as
UNICEF Goodwill Ambassador. I was honored to be invited and though I saw many
problems and issues to tackle, I was heartened by the incredible and selfless
work UNICEF and other agencies are doing on the ground to help. I was also
humbled by the people of Sierra Leone who despite the problems they face, keep
smiling and are hopeful for the future. They made me feel extremely welcome in
their country and I will never forget the experience.One in four children die in
Sierra Leone before they reach the age of five and many of the diseases that
children suffer can be prevented. I genuinely hope that by visiting the affected
areas and spending time with some of the people there, it will draw the world’s
attention towards the problems children face not only in Sierra Leone but
similar situations across the world. If you want to make a donation to the
fantastic work that UNICEF does then please
Thank you

Click here to read Perez' Any Excuse To Take His Shirt Off.
More on David Beckham.

Note/Photo credits: Sorry for the graffitis on the pics. Those were grabbed from Perez Hilton's blog.

Friday, January 11, 2008

Nicole Richie's Preggy Look

Found this while browsing through the Top Socialite. I would love to have that preggy look... but not anytime soon.

BTW, heard she and Christina just gave birth to their kids at Cedars Sinai. CONGRATULATIONS to both 'em hot mamas! XD

* * *
Nicole and Joel Madden's daughter is named Harlow Winter Kate Madden. Woo-hoo! Cheers to the lovely couple! =)

Shocking new details about Britney's meltdown

LAPD reports say...

- When the cops showed up, Britney was locked in the master bathroom with Jayden James.
- Britney refused to come out for nearly three hours. When she did, all she was wearing was panties.
- Britney was incoherent, screaming at the cops, "What the f*** are you doing in my house? I know who you are." She continued ranting, "I don't need your f***ing help." At one point Britney, whose moods swung wildly from laughter to rage to sobs, hollered, "You will do as I say."

Read more of the shocking details at Perez Hilton: Popping Pills!

Ermmm... I think she really needs help.


Here are some really scary pics of Britney from the meltdown. Makes me think she really, really needs help.

Friday, January 4, 2008

Britney Paparazzi: K.Fed Gets Sole Custody of Britney's Kids

Made for Britney supporters, not for her critics.

The latest scoop on Britney.
US Court awards sole custody of Britney's sons: Sean Preston and Jayden James to Kevin Federline. That's sad news but I guess it's just the right decision for now. Britney should really get some help.
As K.Fed's lawyer said, there are no winners here.

How I Finally Ditched that Yo

Just like any drama queen for a girlfriend, I called it quits with Mr. Yo for quite a million times already. And as always, all the goodbyes resulted into reconciliation. So after a day, two days, a week, a couple of weeks or a few months at the longest, Mr. Yo and I are one again.

As the old, familiar saying: you sow an action and reap a habit; you sow a habit and reap a character; you sow a character and reap a destiny goes, I started smoking as a mere social action. I admit--without the slightest bit of shame, that I tried smoking out of satisfying my curiosity and succumbing into peer pressure. Later on, this mere social action became a habit. It became an activity after class, during long breaks, before and after an exam, after eating and while drinking coffee and booze.

It was a costly habit. Just like most women I know, I started with West Ice, Capri and DJ Mix strawberry. Let's say that I consumed a pack a day (including the bums), at P50 a day then, it could've been enough to feed someone everyday. Since I've gone for the cheaper Winston and Marlboro Lights, every year, I spent P9,000 for cigarettes.

Because it was hard to let go of something which became a habit. I pretty much became dependent on cigarettes. Mr. Yo was my ever reliable buddy. He accompanied me on stressful days like on hell weeks when there were so many papers and exams. He was there with me on cold, lonely nights when I was faced with teenage heartbreaks. And he made the best partner-in-crime: he made gimmick and drinking nights funner than what could've been without them.

I was a Yosi Girl and it was both a character and a fate which I did not feel like changing.

You see, those informational campaigns didn't work on me (and I guess on majority of smokers). I was grossed by the chemicals present in a stick of yosi and what that stick can possibly cause to my body organs. But it did not move me to stop smoking. The dad or the uncle of who who had to live on soup and Jell-Os coz solid food just can't go through his throat did not also bother me at all.

Yes, I have been cautious. As a part of an organization which advocates against cancer (good grace, I know I've been such a hypocrite), I decided that if I cannot quit then I might as well become a responsible smoker. I only smoked in designated areas for smoking and I made sure that no non-smoker--without their consent, inhaled the fumes of my cigarette. I thought that if I sinned because I knew that I was killing myself out of the habit, I was doing less evil by sparing others from second hand smoke.

I may not have died from a smoker's disease but then came the day when I slowly started to zoom into the teeny weeny effects of smoking on my skin, breath and respiration. Yes, I hated the eeky smell that the cigarette left on my fingers and clothes. Yes, I dreaded the fact that smokers' skin age faster. Yosi became that bad for me that even my body refused another puff whenever I forced myself to smoke.

How I quit started with an act. It was an act that sprang from the will and the choice of not smoking. Soon, refusing to smoke became a habit. Then because habits make a character out of us, I was no longer among the smoker's click. Nobody in the office thought of me as Yosi Girl. Even former yosi buddies did not think of me as a smoker anymore. And because of this, I was able to reverse my destiny.

I am happy that I no longer feel the urge to smoke. I am happy that I no longer feel tempted by friends who smoke. And most of all, I am happy that I can already cope with stress, heartbreaks and other problems without the aid of Mr. Yo.

I realized that quitting is an act of self-empowerment. If you ditch that yo for good, then you stand an inch higher on your heels.

* * *
Thanks to the power of institutions to change habits. Laws and ordinances that prohibit smoking in crowded places made people smoke less. Yes, thank you Ateneo for the smockets or the SPGs (later on, wala na talaga). Thank you Mayor Binay for making Makati the first Philippine city to prohibit smoking in buildings; Davao and other cities followed.

And thanks to my daughter. Because of my pregnancy and breastfeeding days, I knew that it was indeed possible to quit. So for her, I give her the assurance that I won't leave her because of dying from a smoker's disease.

Images from, and

Britney Paparazzi

Made for Britney supporters, not for her critics.

The latest scoop on Britney.

This time, it involves the paramedics.

Britney was taken away by paramedics and police from her house in Beverly Hills after a custody fight with her former husband, Kevin Federline.

I think Britney really needs psychiatric help. Unlike so many people condemn her for all her attention-getting antics, I completely understand her. The divorce was hard for her. I don't see her as a bitch or as bad person. We've seen what she gave up for Kevin and her kids; for the family that she wanted to raise. As things didn't turn out the way she wanted them to be, Britney's way of coping was not as easy for other people. I'm not putting the blame on media and the paparazzi but I think it's a factor.

Britney is struggling and I believe it's a humane act for everyone to cut her some slack. It's just so sad that so many people are acting as crabs by pulling her down even more!

A twist of events: Britney chases a paparazzo.

We wouldn't know what really happened during that night but hey, it's about time that the paparazzi get a dose of their own medicine.

These are all for now, folks. Watch out for more Britney updates.