There are a few images that I get off of the internets that I go back to when I feel sad and blue. I got Cowboy Monkey last week, and… … … lets just say that he’s been a constant companion when I feel down and out from work.
Just one look and I immediately sigh a monumental, Herculean sigh of relief – that out there, some dude thought of dressing a monkey like a cowboy (complete with cowboy hat), and having the monkey ride on a saddle that is mounted on a dog, and having the two yippy-ka-yay in front of a crowd…
(Picture me smiling)
Damn you Mastercard – Now this is what you call priceless!
Thank you Cowboy Monkey. Thank You.
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curiosity killed the cat: www.aez1001.blogspot.com
Yep, you read it right: Gabby Concepcion and the Matrona Posse! Read on to find out why.
I met up with my girlfriend in Ortigas to grab some dinner, after which – we rushed over to this bar in the north (which was creatively called “Metro Bar”. The owners have the naming skills of a fork so please excuse them). My girl sings back up vocals for Juan Pablo Dream and that night, they were set to perform as the front act for some other band. All was going well; I set up shop in the 2nd level of the bar that overlooked the well made stage. I ordered a few beers and a plate of “Chicharon Bulaklak”.
The first act was a quintet of gay stand up comedians who were, sarcasm aside, really funny. They delivered their bits with good comedic timing and the whole affair was further enhanced when they invited this chubby girl up on the stage to sing, that is not before they gave her a very funny grilling. Good thing she was a good sport.
Then came Juan Pablo Dream; what can I say: its good music. They sang a lot of classics (and a few originals) and even though not everyone appreciated them, I could see a few in the crowd who really enjoyed the gig. After JPD finished their last song, I waited for a while for my GF to come to my table, when out of nowhere, with out rhyme or reason: Gabby Concepcion materialized on stage. Everyone around me screamed their lungs off. It was then did I realize that the people around me were a mix of ladies and matrona’s.
So I watch. Gabby tries to be funny and succeeds. He throws a joke to the crowd about him, Claudine and Raymart that I don’t get. This is too much. He sings. This is waaay to much.
I rush to my girlfriend to get away from Gabby Concepcion. I wind up back stage, sitting on the foot of a short flight of stairs. In front of me is my girl; and we chew the fat.
Then the weirdest thing happened: Gabby Concepcion is standing behind me, talking to his manager who is standing next to me. They chew the fat for a while too. Gabby proceeds to walk down the stairs to the basement chamber of the stage. There I spy a large group of matrona’s, circling Gabby much like vultures, vultures with cameras that is.
Shots are taken; more matrona’s pass by me. Then the event-horizon occurs:
Tirzo Cruz the Third arrives.
A life long dream of mine is to get a picture with German Moreno, but then I realize that life long dreams shouldn’t be restricted to one archetype, or in this case, one movie star: Tirso Cruz the Third, a.k.a. Pip of the “Guy and Pip” super love team, should be added to the wish list. But tonight is not the night for dream fulfillment. So I light a ciggy and look at Tirzo with crazed eyes: “I’ll get you one of these days/months/years you dapper/strapping dude!”
Finally, Gabby Concepcion (sorry, it can’t be just Gabby, it has to be his full name for effect purposes) exits the room. The population in the backstage dressing room drastically falls. I light my 10th ciggy. I tell myself that it can’t get any crazier than this. I get home and sleep. The next day I tell my sister of what had happened. She wont believe me, nope, she wont believe me at all.
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Metro Bar / 47 West Avenue, Quezon City / phone: 374-7505, 412-6514 / hours: all days from 5:30p to 3am / bring a lot of cash, the food and beer are a bit pricey
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curiosity killed the cat: www.metrobarph.blogspot.com
Some of my friends at work have been bitten by the shutter bug. So have some of my neighbors and some of my college fiends. It’s really hard to find someone who does not know anyone who is not into photography. Odd thing is, every time I hear them shutter bugs speak, all they talk about is:
a. tech lusting for the latest body, lens, filter, etc. or in most cases, the exchange of notes for where to get stuff cheap.
b. techniques on how to shoot. Its complete jargon to me – they talk about apertures, shutter speed, which lens to use for what weather, the merits of glass vs. plastic filters. Etc.
It’s all good talk. And in most cases, the photog addicts talk passionately about their hobby and what I love is that they all give advice to each other and everyone is receptive.
But they all seem to miss one all important facet of photography: how to capture the perfect moment that tells a story, that perfect moment that is worth remembering. In my head:
STEP 1
Move away from pictures that a million people have already taken. That sunset that you took, what makes it different from the other sunset photos in the world? That’s a nice picture of your dog/cat/armadillo sleeping on the floor; but what thoughts will it evoke from us, your audience?
Everyone may admire you for your technically perfect shots – but then everyone, given the right training, can be as technically good as you. So where does this bring us?
I have a friend who took a pic of a clown who had this big frown. It was shot in black and white. Initially, I thought it looked funny then I became sad for the guy; the picture stirred something inside me. I saw the misery of the frowning clown amidst the make up and orange hair. I saw the week old stubbles on his chin. I saw who he was in real life.
STEP 2
Anticipation; Anticipate to get the perfect moment – you must learn to see the future before it unfolds. It’s a tall order I know, but I have seen photographers do it. Take the best candid picture you can remember from a wedding and imagine how the photographer knew to position at the right moment.
In today’s paper I saw a picture of a grown woman wincing in pain while receiving a flu shot. What a funny, memorable picture. Before it was taken, imagine the photographer seeing the future: “I’m in a place where 100 or so adults will be needle pierced in the name of prevention. The possibilities are endless.”
Wherever you go, look for the possible events that may transpire: in a parade, a wedding, in a zoo filled with 1000 kids. Think ahead, and be ready to foresee and capture a moment that is worth remembering.
STEP 3
Search for a theme within a theme. A couple of weeks ago a grand anti Cha-Cha rally was held in Ayala Avenue, the nucleus of which was the Ninoy Aquino statue. A lot of photographers came – a lot of pictures were taken. Searching for a theme within a theme would be: taking pictures of kids or oldies who attended the rally, or maybe taking pictures of the many ambulant vendors who took a shot at earning a quick buck at the event. Not following Step 1 and you’d probably take pics of everyone who attended the rally; their flags, politicians giving speeches, a wide shot of the crowd – these pictures were taken by other photographers. Nothing new is brought to the table. Again – find a theme within a theme and be unique.
Ok. That’s it. I’m no photographer (I just can’t afford the gear), but I do hope I make some sense to those who practice this craft. Everyone, don’t get me wrong, I’m not discarding the value of technical know how in photography, but then beauty is cursed to be held in the eye of the beholder and what good is it if you have photos that only you can appreciate.
I wake up. Peaceful still and with a lingering thought: good thing I’m financially stable.
Makati is full of them; agents who peddle loans for the needy and for some strange reason, they all zero into me when I walk along Ayala Ave. It’s the way I dress I guess. Or the fact that almost everyone who walks along Ayala is a bonafide rank and file member and thus, will be or is prone to a sudden or accidental need for quick cash. Sheeesh.
Violly, Jeff, Orly and Arman all work for China Bank (see image), and they all offer the same thing – and truth be told, I got all the flyers above in one day, during lunch. Fact is, I’ve been getting these flyers for the whole duration of my work life in Makati and it makes me wonder – how many trees have died vainly from my inaction to get a loan. I’ve tried declining these flyers for so many times but I seem to have a problem doing this when the one distributing them acts as if you desperately need the cash. It’s uncanny how they do their flyering, they shove the damn thing towards your direction at the exact moment that you will hit their hand; so to avoid any collision, you grab the flyer as fast as you can. Damn you Violly, Jeff, Orly and Arman. Damn you.
But I digress. I guess the point that I’d like to drive at here is that through all the years, the march of time, the turning of the seasons, rain or shine, no matter what day of the work week, they are there, the loaners. This only means one thing: I may have no need for them now, but a lot have in the past (and the present) which is why they still proliferate. The question is; are Violly, Jeff, Orly and Arman, are they saviors of the cash strapped or are they as desperate to close a deal, as desperate as the ones who need a loan.
OK. Rarely do I get forwarded emails to which I can relate to. Those in bold – I have experienced personally. Those underlined – I thank the gods high and low for sparing me. Enjoy.
The Ghost Shit
The kind where you feel shit come out, see shit on the toilet paper, but there’s no shit in the bowl.
The Clean Shit
The kind where you feel shit come out, see shit in the bowl, but there’s no shit on the toilet paper.
The Wet Shit
You wipe your ass fifty times and it still feels unwiped. So you end up putting toilet paper between your ass and your underwear so you don’t ruin them with those dreadful skid marks.
The Second Wave Shit
This shit happens when you’ve finished, your pants are up to your knees, and you suddenly realize you have to shit some more.
The Brain Hemorrahage Through Your Nose Shit
Also known as “Pop a Vein in Your Forehead Shit”. You have to strain so much to get it out that you turn purple and practically have a stroke.
The Corn Shit
No explanation necessary.
The Lincoln Log Shit
The kind of shit that’s so enormous you’re afraid to flush it down without first breaking it up into little pieces with the toilet brush.
The Nororius Drinker Shit
The kind of shit you have the morning after a long night of drinking. It’s most noticeable trait is the tread mark left on the bottom of the toilet bowl after you flush.
The “Gee, I Really Wish I Could Shit” Shit
The kind where you want to shit, but even after straining your guts out, all you can do is sit on the toilet, cramped and farting.
The Wet Cheeks Shit
Also known as the “Power Dump”. That’s the kind that comes out of your ass so fast that your butt cheeks get splashed with the toilet water.
The Liquid Shit
That’s the kind where yellowish-brown liquid shoots out of your butt, splashes all over the side of the toilet bowl and, at the same time, chronically burns your tender poop-chute.
The Mexican Food Shit
A class all on its own.
The Crowd Pleaser (MaoCow: Damn you folly of college!)
This shit is so intriguing in size and/or appearance that you have to show it to someone before flushing.
The Mood Enhancer
This shit occurs after a lengthy period of constipation, thereby allowing you to be your old self again.
The Ritual (MaoCow: every morning yes!)
This shit occurs at the same time each day and is accomplished with the aid of a newspaper.
The Guinness Book Of Records Shit
A shit so noteworthy it should be recorded for future generations.
The Aftershock Shit (MaoCow: Damn you Sung Sung peanuts!)
This shit has an odour so powerful than anyone entering the vicinity within the next seven hours is affected.
The “Honeymoon’s Over” Shit
This is any shit created in the presence of another person.
The Groaner (MaoCow: Fuck you over consumption of fiber!)
A shit so huge it cannot exit without vocal assistance.
The Floater (MaoCow: locally known as the McArthur)
Characterized by its floatability, this shit has been known to resurface after many flushings.
The Ranger
A shit which refuses to let go. It is usually necessary to engage in a rocking or bouncing motion, but quite often the only solution is to push it away with a small piece of toilet paper.
The Phantom Shit (MaoCow: Again, college. Dorm life is sooo funny. I swear, no one would admit to the deed!)
This appears in the toilet mysteriously and no one will admit to putting it there.
The Peek-A-Boo Shit
Now you see it, now you don’t. This shit is playing games with you. Requires patience and muscle control.
The Bombshell (MaoCow: Thank god for Hotels/Fast Food Restos and the Mall)
A shit that comes as a complete surprise at a time that is either inappropriate to shit (i.e. during lovemaking or a root canal) or you are nowhere near shitting facilities.
The Snake Charmer
A long skinny shit which has managed to coil itself into a frightening position - usually harmless.
The Olympic Shit
This shit occurs exactly one hour prior to the start of any competitive event in which you are entered and bears a close resemblance to the Drinker’s Shit.
The Back-To-Nature Shit
This shit may be of any variety but is always deposited either in the woods or while hiding behind the passenger side of your car.
The Pebbles-From-Heaven Shit
An adorable collection of small turds in a cluster, often a gift from God when you actually can’t shit.
Premeditated Shit
Laxative induced. Doesn’t count.
Shitzopherenia
Fear of shitting - can be fatal!
Energizer Vs. Duracell Shit (MaoCow: My record: 15 minutes)
Also known as a “Still Going” shit.
The Power Dump Shit
The kind that comes out so fast, you barely get your pants down when you’re done.
The Liquid Plumber Shit
This kind of shit is so big it plugs up the toilet and it overflows all over the floor. (You should have followed the advice from the Lincoln Log Shit.)
The Spinal Tap Shit
The kind of shit that hurts so much coming out, you’d swear it’s got to be coming out sideways.
The “I Think I’m Giving Birth Through My Asshole” Shit
Similar to the Lincoln Log and The Spinal Tap Shits. The shape and size of the turd resembles a tall boy beer can. Vacuous air space remains in the rectum for some time afterwards.
The Porridge Shit
The type that comes out like toothpaste, and just keeps on coming. You have two choices: a) flush and keep going, or b) risk it piling up to your butt while you sit there helpless.
The “I’m Going To Chew My Food Better” Shit
When the bag of Doritos you ate last night lacerates the insides of your rectum on the way out in the morning.
The “I Think I’m Turning Into A Bunny” Shit
When you drop lots of cute, little round ones that look like marbles and make tiny splashing sounds when they hit the water.
The “What The Hell Died In Here?” Shit
Also sometimes referred to as “The Toxic Dump”. Of course you don’t warn anyone of the poisonous bathroom odour. Instead, you stand innocently near the door and enjoy the show as they run out gagging and gasping for air.
The “I Just Know There’s A Turd Still Dangling There” Shit
Where you just sit there patiently and wait for the last cling-on to drop off because if you wipe now, it’s going to smear all over the place.
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Details:
SPAM RECEIVED:Tue 3/10/2009 2:55 PM
FORWARDABILITY LEVEL: 8/10
PROBABLE SOURCE:Somewhere in the US of A. This email isn’t original though. I have seen a local version of this. I just cant seem to find it in my arcives.
