Odd Infinitum!

I told you not to do it! You still did it? Why did you do it? Tell me! Why did you do it?! Ha?!

I smirked. I pouted. Then I blurted out, "Because you suck!"

Saturday, 19Th of January. The Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf, Gateway.

My head was still reeling from drunkenness the other night as I wake up with my conscience banging my inner ear as to why I have to go out last night. Conscience. That annoying holier-than-thou voice lurking inside all of us. Whether it does its job for the sake of discipline or just to spite, I think for once I believe it has a point. I've been partying every weekend for the past three weeks that if one have to account for the mullahs (or is it moolahs?) I spent, I could have bought a new television far better than the Akira I once owned. Predictably, as I was confronted by the indecision on whether I should go out or not, I went out anyway. And, man, did I say going towards the opposite of your conscience always turn up for the good? I am such a sucker when it comes to partying but conscience sucks big time.

So here I am smiling. I did better in sucking up to my whims. Last Friday was the best as far as I could remember. And it could have not been possible if not for the friends that surround my constantly colourful world.

It began with movies at Robinsons Place. BBT as usual but it mutated to BBTR with Rollo cow-towed with us complicated couples to drool over a hybrid mutant from Underworld. I find the movie kinda short but, well, action packed. Or maybe I was just used to the kilometric movies shown these past three or four years, namely, Lord of the Rings and, most recently, Narnia. The last one was a disappointment in terms of cinematography. The camera was almost kissing the actors on close-up, one could see their pores lip-synching the lines.

Now, going back to Underworld... no, let's just zero in on the characters. First, the male protagonist. The guy is possessed with excellent bone structure, I must say. Yeah. Yeah. There's also the excellent special effects but since this is my blog I'm in for the bone structure. Nya, ha, ha, ha...

Does bone structure equal to excellent boner? Sorry, my imagination is once again pregnant. (A girl at the other table here in the cafe kept on throwing glances at me. She better stop or I'll be forced to dash her hopes by shamelessly applying lipstick.) Then every time this mutant turns back from vampy-wolf-man to yummy-human, he has to grab a shirt to cover himself. Man, you don't have to. I vehemently protest.

Selene, the female protagonist, has excellent bone structure to throw in as well. Do women also get boners? I don't wanna know. Gives me the creeps. Women. The thoughts of boobs caressing my back gives me Chocolate Hills goose bumps. I detest the thought.

The best lines came not from the movie but from those sitting beside me. When Alexander Corvinus made Selene drink his blood in preparation for battle with a demented batman, Markus, she asked, "What will I become?" Rollo and Porto were both quick to quip in unison. The former said GODDESS, the latter, COCKROACH. Ladies and gentlemen, I'm in the company of mutant minds.

In this movie, everyone is a mutant. Anyone outside the gene pool will not live long. Juxtaposed to real life, we find everyone complicated. Anyone who's not complicated is a hypocrite. As if.

Next stop: Maria Orosa Street. It's Friday. What else is there to do but to party.

Around a table outside Chelu, over whiff of alcohol and simmering sisig, were some of the most interesting characters in this side of the planet. Joining us was Rollo's ex, Shinanigan. I call him such as he was always seem to be pondering about something - a good lay, a concept, the meaning of life... - enough for sarcasm to ooze out of my ears and ask, "What's all this shenanigans about?"

Also joining the party was Ecto with his Korean date. So there were all seven of us. An odd number. I never understood why seven and such were classified as odd numbers until tonight when, as everyone sits side-by-side with their date, I held the distinction as number seven. Dateless. An odd man out. That's me. So before everyone noticed, I put on my entertainer's hat, throwing everyone into some laughs, not to mention catalyst of intellectual discussion. And I was so good at it everyone forgot the oddity of the evening. I realized, no one, and I mean no one, date and the like, can match what I can do in an intelligent lot that no date deserves me. Am I sour graping or what. That's not a question so don't answer that. Even as a question, I would have to kill you for answering that.

I may have been becoming tipsy but I never forgot my demeanor. I have to introduce everyone to Ecto's Korean date. First their name, then our age. Upon knowing mine, which I dramatically revealed in fortissimo, he gawked. Surprised at how my looks hid my age, English adjectives escaped him. He could have said it in Korean and I wouldn't mind. If not for his short English, I could have explicated to him the non-secret in looking young. Unlike Rollo who has to cement his face with collagen. I wouldn't be surprised if one of these inevitable days he starts stapling his skin against his mandible to keep it from sagging. Mine was an accident. More like serendipity. I half suspect that during one of my sexcapades I swallowed a random number of sperm - between enough and too much - to stunt apoptosis.

In the middle of so varied discussions, Rollo brought the issue of idiots having to be at harm's way every time we are together. One bully, one bitch. Bad combination. I threw in some bovine information: bull is male cow, bitch is female cow. Ryoichi interjected, "Being a Benedictine that you were, that makes you a holy cow!" Ok, now cut the canned laughter.

Good thing Ryo didn't know that the nomenclature also applies to pigs. Otherwise, I could have screamed a'la Nora Aunor, "Your ex-lover is not a pig! Ako ay hindi aso!"

At one corner, here at Coffee Bean and whatelse, about ten young gays were converging. Man, they are so unattractive and dull they might as well be straight.

Just as I was beginning to loudly announce to everyone in the street my undying love for Red Horse, Doc Hieronymus Bosch appeared. But first, let me focus on my unrelenting affection for Red Horse. It's the only thing that has been faithful with me all my decadent life. And with more than one bottle a night, you can be openly polygamous and still come out faithful, take them all in one sitting and you still won't be accused of being an orgiast. Whenever I hear my name being called by a clinking freezy voice, I know there's a Red Horse within three-meter radius. Our love for each other is so intense it is summed up in the following scenario: as I suck these cute voluptuous bottles dry, I go nuts (pun intended)!

Every time Doc Hieronymus and I meet, we paint the town like his namesake painter's copiously carnal The Garden of Earthly Delights. It's not that he's into orgy and such. It's rather that Doc Hieronymous and I know what's an unadulterated fun when we see one. Know when to create it when there's none. Not that we perpetually revel in it. We just know when to have it or not to have it. And contrary to what everyone wants to believe, we're not eyeing for each other. That's a rumour.

Upon knowing that Doc Hieronymus wants to remain single - forever! - I readily found my long lost sister from Mount Olympus. We were separated from birth when I was given charge of Hades. His apotheosis signaled the end of my misery. The planets have converged to save their favorite son from being tonight's dating oddity. Now I know why eight is a lucky number.

Again let's segue to my present environment. A guy passed by. I'm not into hairy guys but those side burns spectacularly define that jawline. That shirt somehow is contrary to the idea of charm. But then, he might be straight. So it's ok. Gayness is a fashion liability.

The magic of alcohol set in, melting sisig fat in an instance. In times of drunkenness, unlike people of our kind, the heteros hit their beds. Gays get to populate the dance floor when drunk. This we do in Bed. At 1 am, party was just beginning.

What a night! If I have to choose one instance in my life that I have to live over and over again, this would be it. Friends. Intelligent conversation. Witty cracks here and there. Red Horse. Put them all together, who needs a lover. One odd night I could play all my life.