I've been playing Parachutes and Twentysomething all night. Coldplay has always been my melancholy soundtrack, and Jamie Cullum... my crooner.

My 364 days of unbirthdays are over... they all seem short and useless when THAT day arrives. I always get this mixed feeling on the eve of my birthday (Gawd! just saying typing that out loud makes me cringe) I simultaneously feel like a child on Christmas morning and a schizophrenic awaiting electroshock therapy. I could never pinpoint the cause of this antsy anticipation because I really dread each +1 candle cake. An anticipation for time travel? for oblivious bliss? for my own Aston Martin?

I love those short tapered wax candles. Each supposedly represents a year of your life... irrelevant and burned into nothingness in a few minutes. They represent a year lost... a year where I should've read more books, a year where I would've seen the eerie monoliths of Easter Island, a year where I could've done this, could've done that... Shoulda Woulda Coulda Barracuda...

I love the cake. That beautifully crafted confection that goes straight to your thighs... that chocolate filled temptation with the scrumptilicious frosting and your name in icing you cut up into slices... that sweet, sweet reminder that you don't have the same metabolism "x" years ago.

I love that song. That happy happy four worded song that really drills the message "you ain't getting any younger" right into your right ventricle... that song which everybody knows, everybody claims to own, and everybody apparently commits a copyright infringement crime with whenever they sing it... that step above "for he's a jolly good fellow" that always necessitates your widest, most pseudo-genuine smile after it is sung to you and before you almost die of respiratory arrest from blowing out the candles.

I love the expectation to be "happy" and to feel "special". This is after all a "happy birthday"... just as "theory" always has "conspiracy" tagging along with it, "birthday" is lonesome without "happy". I love the wholehearted attempt to really be happy that often ends with either a migraine or an aneurysm. I love teeth... I love dimples... I love crow's feet... I love smile lines... I love straining the muscles n my face.

I love Brooke Shields and how she bashed Tom Cruise's skewed views on prescription drugs. I love Clint Eastwood and how he committed euthanasia on a Million Dollar Baby. I love Chris Elliot's obsession induced rashes on There's Something About Mary. I love Colin Farrell, just for being Irish. I may not know them personally, but we share a bond in birth.


I love (and I say this without an iota of sarcasm) my family and friends. They make this day bearable, sometimes even... dare I say it... may I not be struck by lightning... happy.


For the love of all things sacred... Don't Sing me that Song... or if you do, sing me a "Sometimes Happy (But Never Required To Be) Birthday To You"...

I'll be normal in June... well... like happy, normal is a relative term.








.

Labels: alternati, B-days, boo-freakin-hoo

While I am typing, a saucer holding a slice of calorie-filled heaven is resting on my growing tummy... Nope, I am incapable of child birth. I need to stop eating this mocha cake with extra sweet icing... I am running out of comfortable pants. I don't look forward to my first mumu purchase.

This slice came from a half eaten cake resting on the top ledge of our fridge, a souvenir from my nephew's third birthday last Saturday. On the ledge beneath it is the second storey of a tiered cake from my brother's friend's wedding, untouched. For two days, whenever I need anything from the fridge, these are all I see... calling me... invoking my sweet tooth.

I am putting the fork down.

My nephew, Net, is a sweet, hyperactive and recently bald kid. I love him to pieces. He claims to be a Power Ranger and would hit you unintentionally hard with anything resembling a sword. On a good day, he is extremely charming. In one of our family reunions, My whole paternal clan was laughing and clapping when he danced uninhibitedly in the middle of the venue to a novelty song he really liked taking the attention away from older kids doing a performance. He was so infectious, he got our relatives with senior citizen cards and weak hips dancing along with him. On a really bad day, he throws impossible tantrums. I "think of a happy place" when he has one of them on my watch. He always makes up for his temper.

I had more fun in his birthday than I was expecting. Not only because the mascot ("Happi-Stinger") was hilarious but because I got to see my mom spell "SOS" using her knees with a balloon between her legs... in a business suit. I am not really big on parlor games, but watching friends and relatives make buffoons of themselves... priceless.

My nephew had a tremendous time chasing kids around the restaurant and accepting gifts with a euphoric smile. He used to be afraid of "Grimace", the Mcdonald's mascot (Who wouldn't be? Attack of the killer eggplant!) On his party though, He accepted the giant bee's hands without an ounce of hesitation. He is growing up so fast! *sniff*

And I am growing up so fast too! Circumferentially!!! Joy!!!!!!

I am REALLY putting the fork down...

Labels: B-days, blah (3x), quarterlife

It was Ma'am Jan's birthday last Thursday. She is my PI boss. I am using boss loosely here because with her laid back supervision and cheerful disposition, an onlooker may look at us as colleagues.

I've always thought that "boss" is a fairly modern term. Aside from the current association with adjective+color perfumes, the word itself is very succinct and minimalist. According to Etymonline, "boss" was coined in 1649. Notable people during the 17th century include Miguel de Cervantes and William Shakespeare. "Boss" doesn't fit in this era. Don Quixote didn't say "My boss, my boss, my kingdom for a boss". In Hamlet, Polonius never called Claudius his boss... Juliet never said to Lady Capulet "Alas, Thou aren't the boss of my life!" in Act I.

Further reading makes my previous statements ridiculous. First of all the term was coined in America, a long ship ride away from Spain and England... and unless they had internet access then, the proliferation of this word would have taken a century and a day. Second, and more importantly... Both Cervantes and Shakespeare died in 1616, a good 3 decades before "boss" came to existence.

Am I boring you yet with this pointless etymology of "boss? Anyhoo... It came from the Dutch word "baas" which translates as master. In the theoretically classless democracy of the States, the term "boss" became very popular. It served as a egalitarian euphemism for "master". Now, we don't call our superiors masters unless:

1. You're being sarcastic
2. You're learning jujitsu, judo or some other form of martial arts
3. You're into S & M
4. You're playing Dungeons and Dragons

Now, bossy is an adjective we use for people who like to bark out commands. "Bossy" was first recorded in 1882 as a common cow name. How appropriate.


I have only gone through 3 companies when I started working. In the first two, I developed a friendship with both my bosses, I seem pretty lucky (or picky) with companies I apply to. In the third company (my current employer), I have 3 bosses. My PI boss, my boss from Guam and The Godfather from Oregon. They vary so much in their manner of administration that I feel like I'm three different employees switching skins depending on who I'm talking to. I get along pretty well with all three of them, but if my current job has taught me anything about bosses, there are 3.5 million species of them:


Random Boss Sampling:

The Charles Montgomery Burns
He is rich, powerful and above the law. He owns a huge corporation where employees don't usually know each other. He is pure evil and would steal candy from a baby if he were strong enough to do so. He wouldn't think twice before pushing a button underneath his desk that opens a hatch where you fall into and later find yourself in Timbuktu.


The Dr. Miranda Bailey
She is "the Nazi". She is frank, brutally honest and remarkably talented. She knows everything that happens in the workplace. She doesn't want people sucking up to her and treats her subordinates impartially. She is a mom and a professional. She is a tough boss but she always protects your best interests and you learn a lot from her.



The Donald Trump
He is rich. He is influential. He has a comb-over. He is business-savvy, successful and isn't inhibited to tell you so in a robotic cadence. He is conceited but you can't blame him... but you could hate him. He likes to exaggerate. He doesn't like any form of failure and wouldn't think twice before saying "You're fired" in the boardroom.



The David Brent
He wants to be everyone's friend and mentor in The Office. He thinks people find him hilarious and would give anything to be around him (yeah right). He is irritating and hovers above your work station. He is totally oblivious of what employees think of him. On a good day he is tolerable, but on most days... you just wanna stab him with your #2 pencil.


The Gil Grissom
He is eccentric. He is very intelligent. He doesn't believe in politics in the workplace. He has a collection of bugs in his office. He develops intimate relationships with his employees without being touchy-feely. He doesn't mind sharing the limelight. He is very passionate about his job and as a result has a semi-existent personal life.



The Horatio Crane
He is very good with his job to the point of impossibility. He seems to always have the answer and know everything which is quite sickening. He is always in the spotlight. He makes everyone one he is the boss. He delivers alot of puns and cliches and always wears sunglasses regardless of weather conditions or amount of sunlight.

end of sampling...


Trivia: A number of countries celebrate National Boss Day on October 16.

Labels: B-days, I (heart) words, idiot box, list-o-rama

Last night, my mom celebrated her __th birthday. She has selective amnesia when it comes to such numbers. When I was younger, a birthday party is a birthday party. The number of candles on a cake never really interested me then, all I paid attention to were the candy flowers placed on its corners. When my mom started changing the topic whenever a question about her age was raised, I took a peep at her driver's license and noted the year in one of my journals.

All day yesterday was spent tidying the house up. My dad, sister and our housekeeper Lisa were stationed at the kitchen. Me and my brother were in charge of the "physical arrangement", moving furniture, adding some from my sister's house, and placing indoor plants which were never really permanent fixtures in the house on a regular day.

My mom had a couple of visitors from the land down under, her amigas and the entire choir from her church. Introductions were made (I'm not gonna remember anyone's name) It's a good thing I ate early... The pianist took his perch on our aging, rarely played piano. He made a signal and the whole choir started singing "Halle, Halle, Hallelujah". There were singing faces everywhere in the living room and nowhere to avert my eyes to. I retreated to my room and in order to drown the kumbaya songs... I put on my headphones and played Jeopardy 2003.

When I was younger, I took an immediate liking to Jeopardy. Who new that at a young age, a show hosted by a man with a Hitler moustache would awaken my inner nerd. I didn't answer a whole lot of questions then but I did learn a lot of Potent Potables and how to pronounce Potpourri. Plus, I became skilled at mentally computing a wager that would, if everything turned out as planned, made me win 1 dollar over my nearest opponent.

Other game shows then, during the FEN (Far East Network) era, that I also watched included Wheel of Fortune and Family Feud. Together with Jeopardy, these three have names that could have been popular and violent soap operas. Fate, Fighting and Fear...

I also remember a short-lived gameshow (by our TV reception standards) named Classic Concentration, also hosted by Alex Trebek (I can't get Will Ferrell's impersonation out of my mind whenever I see him) You had a message encrypted in images, which was covered by numbered cells. To reveal the encrypted image behind, the cells need to be paired up and each pair has a prize of some sort. The other elements of the show didn't really interest me. Here is an example of an encrypted message I googled...



ST+eve R+eye+yawn = Steve Ryan
(I have no idea who heshe* is)







For lack of anything better to do I tried making a couple of CCC's (Classic Concentration Clue) blah, I'm still thinking of a better name. Here's a fairly easy one:

Who said it?

Burned a couple of brain cells yet? Here's a relatively harder one...

My Philosophy:

What a nerd does on hisher* free time is nobody's business. Oh and by the way, when I came out from my bomb shelter (my room), all the guests were nearly gone and my mom was near drunk. I love my mom.

*refer to previous post: I (Heart) Lexpionage

Labels: B-days, comics, flashback music please, I (heart) words

Un:
It was dear Vianca's first birthday celebration last night. She is the adorable daughter of my officemate. She is extremely ticklish and would give a four-toothed smile whenever you touched her armpits or her knees.
I've been googling for over thirty minutes now searching for any idea when memory starts. One said 3, one said before birth... I have no idea what happened on my first birthday except for what I can piece out from old polaroid family pictures.



Deux:
Oh joy! I found two of David Sedaris books! After getting hooked on Me Talk Pretty One Day, I was a crazy National Bookstore patron asking a couple of salesladies for an inventory or Sedaris' books. They need to apply the Dewey decimal system or fix their classification system or something. First the biographical essays were placed in the Fiction section, and second I had to supervise as one of the ladies looked for the books in a shelf clearly devoted to John Grisham and another shelf/shrine for Paulo Coelho. I knew I had to step up and find the books myself... which I did... eventually.



Trois:
I went pirated DVD shopping the other night with Joanne before we headed for Caffeeklatsch. I was looking for A Scanner Darkly, which I am pretty sure won't be aired in any Philippine cinema. They had one but I was disappointed when it was a sine copy not a DVD copy yet.
While we were scanning the movies like vinyl records, a Korean girl popped her head between Joanne and I asking the vendor for "Koreotology?"... I gave Joanne a quizzical look. She mouthed "Korea novela!"... I shook my head and mouthed "Choreography!"... The vendor without even an ounce of doubt told the Korean girl "We don't have Coyote Ugly." When the Korean left... Aahhhh... Marunong pala kayo mag-korean ate...

I bought three CDs that night and decided to do a semi-movie marathon when I got home from Vianca's birthday.

The Producers
Blah... I wasted 75 bucks on this. After really liking Rent, I thought I'd give another Broadway musical a go. They must have done something different with the musical for it to be a hit.
Max Bialystock (Nathan Lane) is a producer of a flop musical and Leo Bloom (Matthew Broderick) is an accountant. The whole premise of the story is that producing a flop can make more money than a hit if an accountant would tweak the books. The Producers was written by Mel Brooks, he is the voice of Bugs Bunny and several other Looney Tunes. (Erratum: Thanks snglguy... It was Mel Blanc who provided the voice of Bugs Bunny... hahaha... my bad!)
Most of the characters were overly satirical although I think they were written and made to be performed that way. The songs were too cabaret for my taste and made me remember that aspect of musicals that I don't particularly like. I can't get Timon (The Lion King) when Nathan Lane performed and Matthew Broderick's character is all too similar with Peter Macnicol's role as Renfield in Dracula: Dead and Loving It (coincidentally another Mel Brooks movie) Uma Thurman as Ulla and Will Ferrel as Franz Liebkind were good (not great) supporting roles. The best performances of the movie were done by the even more sardonic minor characters like an assistant who prolongs "yesssss" awkwardly. If you're gonna go sardonic... do it to the nth.
I like the cinematography though reminiscent of Fred Astaire or Audrey Hepburn movies. I especially like the dance Ulla and Bloom did in the freshly painted white office. I didn't know Matthew Broderick can sing and dance. And I loved Uma's gracefulness in the green dress, especially when she slid across the table. I guess the training she did for the Kill Bill movies came in helpful. Movie not recommended for non-musical fans.



Prime
This movie looks into an older woman-younger man relationship, which is normally subjected to a double standard of morality. I thought it would be similar to The Graduate, but Uma doesn't look a day over 30. Rafi (Uma Thurman) is a 37 year old divorcee who meets David (Bryan Greenberg) a 23 year old artist, both in the Prime of their sexuality. Meryl Streep, who is as usual spectacular, is Lisa, Rafi's psychiatrist and early in the movie revealed as David's mom.
I watched the movie generally from Meryl's point of view, a spectator of Rafi and David's relationship. Meryl quickly deciphered from her sessions with Uma that she is dating her son, and its refreshing the movie didn't stretch this "twist" when it was already evident.
The best performances of the movie were done by the two female roles in Meryl's office. It's hilarious how Meryl struggles with her role to her patient and her role as a mom. How she conceals her emotions when Uma divulge's intimate details about her sex life with David. (Rafi: You let me talk about his penis?, Lisa: Trust me, that was harder for me than it was for you) Bryan Greenberg was physically a perfect fit for the role but he lacked a certain something I can't quite put my finger on.
As opposed to The Producers, the supporting roles were bland and only delivered lines for the main characters to develop their characters on. Except maybe for Jon Abrahams who is David's obnoxious friend that threw pies at his ex-dates and Bubi whose head panslapping is David's image of a conscience.
The movie was good until it reached the final 10 minutes or so when everything got ambiguous, the whole gift thing at the end seemed like Ben Younger didn't know how to end the movie and it didn't fit with the "one year later" segment at the end, which I think was written before the later half of the movie.



Sex, Lies and Videotape
It was 3 am when I finished Prime, so I put off watching this movie thinking I couldn't appreciate it as much as I would've wanted to with a half-asleep brain. This was what I really wanted to watch and this fact made me regret watching The Producers even more... not only did I waste money, I also wasted time and braincells. I hope I get to watch it before the weekend ends.

Labels: B-days, Bookworms Anonymous, movies

Yesterday evening, I met my married friends Rai and Cheerie. It was a pre-birthday celebration for both of them. Rai's is on the 11th of September, he was dancing and getting drunk when 9-11 happened. Cheerie's is on the 13th, and when she was pregnant with Asti, we all hoped he'd be born on the 12th but it was a gestative impossibility. The great thing about Rai and Cheerie is you never felt like a third wheel when you were in their company and we never ran out of things to talk about.

I was at their hotel room sometime around 9 in the evening. I haven't seen them for about a year, they live now in Manila, but still I felt like I just hung out with them yesterday. Bert arrived. After catching up with the latest things Asti did and work and whatnots, we were headed to Cactus Bar. Rai was a regular there during our college days. He was/is an amazing bassist. Think of the songs of Kala and you'll get not only a good idea of the music his band played but also of his personality.


Syd Barrett Would Rock and Roll in his Grave

We were extremely disappointed by what the bar is now. It used to be one of the places-to-be, everyone dressed to kill, great local bands, beautiful people... beautiful music. Now, mediocre is an understatement. I haven't been checking out the local live-band scene lately, my friends and I now go for the bar with background music kind of scene. I guess its one of those growing-up things.

The other so-called happening places now are usually jammed with incoherently noisy gangster wannabes. I could appreciate, and even really like, some aspects of hip-hop culture like music, clothes and expensive jewelry (I am irked by people with no African-American heritage saying "bling"). However, the whole need for stabbing, unlicensed guns and a thirst for violence escapes me. I thought night outs are for good times and not visits to the hospital emergency room, I guess they changed definitions without me knowing.

Thankfully, Cactus Bar wasn't one of these places. It just became bland and boring. The torture did come, but in another form. The oily-haired, looks like he just came out of bed vocalist sang Another Brick on the Wall... terribly. This was an insult to Pink Floyd. I get the "image" he's trying (or not trying) to portray, but c'mon, take a bath for pete's sake. The greasy hair looked good on Ethan Hawke when he sang I'm Nuthin in Reality Bites, and you dear... are no Ethan. When the vocalist did Elvis' Suspicious Minds we paid the tab and left. How many songs must he murder?


A Hop, Skip and Jump

Across the street is 18BC, another buzz worthy bar during the golden era of barhopping aka our college days. It was a viable contender of Gimbals for the yuppie demographic then. Gimbals is now closed... a big loss *sigh*. It didn't seem as full as it did outside. We spent just a short while in the outdoor waiting area when a group of Koreans left. As we sat on the same red metal chairs, it felt like a time-loop... Nothing about the place changed. Well except maybe for the fact that the crowd was 50% Korean.

Koreans come to Baguio in droves! Mainly for a cheap English language education. Cheerie is an English tutor and we talked alot about the misadventures of the profession. How it all starts with a point-point teaching methodology, and later a barok type of English defined mainly by the use of nouns and verbs and the absence of prepositions and grammar. Bless these Koreans for giving us another source of employment. I find them a pleasant people always smiling and very fashion forward. I have yet to make a Korean friend to know what they are really like. All I know about them are the Koreanovelas I don't watch.


Space Flower and Access Band

Space flower is an amazing Ska band. Each band member, nine of them, wore suits and did something different with their head. One had dreads, another a semi-combed-over mohawk. One had a golfer's hat, another a fishing hat.


The vocalist looks like a chubbier Alan Cumming (fabulous shades included). As I've learned from a friend, any song can be Ska-ized(?). They did a couple of Bob Marley songs, some Frank Sinatra, some originals (really good), and some pop songs. When they did Lady is a Tramp, Cheerie and I wanted to get ur hair done and "dress to the nines" and use phrases like "I do declare".

Access Band is as much a staple in our bar scenes before as beer was. That night they did their memorable renditions of Half Crazy, Universe and Bongga Ka Day!.

We were so glad we changed bars. We left while Space Flower played Putre-ska's Manila Girl appropriately changed to Manila Boy to match the vocalist's gender. And on the other side of the road on our way to the hotel, we heard another ghastly rendition of a rock classic at Cactus.


Chasing Cars

On my taxi ride home, a dog out of nowhere was chasing us. I've always seen this strange canine behavior on TV but I never actually saw one. He chased us the whole length of Legarda Road. It made me think that a dog chasing a car was much like a generation gap. You hear about it but never really know what it is until it chases the taxi you're in. My mental juxtoposition of the bar scenes during my bar-hopping days and the current one made me realize I'm old(er). However, thanks to 18BC I'm comforted that the spirit of my bar era is still in a way, alive.

I hummed Snow Patrol's Chasing Cars in my head as I watched the BMW infront of us with its top down. I felt like I was in a 007 chase sequence and I was a back seat passenger in the villain's car.


18 BC Bands:
Space Flower Friendster Page
Access Band Friendster Page



Oh yes, before I forget. I was tagged by J. I'm gonna make this long post even longer!

6 Random facts about me:
1. I answer try Yahoo! crosswords everyday.
2. I hate the beans they put in halo-halo.
3. The first novel I read is The Prince of Tides.
4. The one I'm reading now is David Sedaris' Me Talk Pretty One Day.
5. I have a Spice Girls cassette tape. (don't ask)
6. My left hand is rapas. (a straight line running across my palm)

This tag ends here. I saw this meme on a lot of my regular reads already. Breathe a sigh of relief fellow bloggers...

Labels: B-days, baguio, memes, music, nyt-out, quarterlife

Another rainy day in Baguio. That didn't stop me from enjoying the day, all I needed... my trusty umbrella and a gang of rambunctious friends.

4 pm. I met Tine and Ely to buy die-cast Volkswagens for our friend CA who was gonna celebrate her two-week delayed birthday celebration later on in the night. That's one of the things about growing up and having jobs, we rarely celebrate birthdays and even rarely do we celebrate them on time. The beetle matchboxes were requested gifts and CA was registered at her favorite novelty matchbox shop.

We had 5 hours to kill. I stayed up late because of Wikimapia, so I still felt a little groggy and disoriented. I needed a caffeine fix. So we checked out Paliz Zata, a new cafe our friend Joyce raved about. It was at the roof top of Porta Vaga, a mini-mall (I'm using mini here... Philippine malls keep getting bigger and bigger)

We decided to take the long route. Tine, Ely and I sharing one umbrella. Tine and I actually had umbrellas of our own, but we were just too lazy to bring them out of the warmth of our bags. We passed by The Baguio Cathedral and I had to take a picture.


The cathedral looked so ethereal with all the mist. The usual pastel pink walls were diluted by the fog. The church looked so majestically neo-European. We reached the cafe, the lower part of our jeans soaking wet. It was a nice cafe overlooking Baguio and had a revolving-restaurant-ish ambience. We chatted about personal stuff and pondered the structural integrity of the cafe which was 75% enclosed with glass. Wind pressure, glass thickness, beam-window connections... stuff I won't bore you with. I'm pressing the fast forward button...

7 pm. We met Joyce at the Filipino shopping hub known as SM. Malls... I have mixed feelings about them. We decided to spend the last two hours in a cinema rather than strain our calves window-shopping. A feel-good movie was in order, we needed to tune ourselves for the party. I wanted to watch Click but Ely already saw it, second choice was...

My Super Ex-Girlfriend

This movie raises the question:

If you had super powers, what would you want them to be? AND... would you use them on worthless scum like your exes?

Achtung! I blabber too much, I might say some things that would spoil the movie for youif you're planning to watch it.

Uma Thurman plays Jenny Johnson aka superhero G-Girl. Matt Saunders (Luke Wilson) hits on her in a subway. A thief snatches Jenny's bag... Matt plays knight in shining business suit. G-Girl who does most of the saving, get's saved (in a way) for once. Jenny gets infatuated. Matt fulfills a fantasy after Jenny discloses her identity. Jenny thinks she fell in love. Matt discovers he's in love with someone else. Matt breaks up with Jenny... awful idea. Jenny becomes psychotic, vengeful ex-G-Girlfriend.


What I Liked:

1. Uma as G-Girl is like Beatrix Kiddo on Prozac. She had the best looking superhero costumes, chic but save-the-world-functional.
2. Uma as Jenny... Her portrayal of neurotic Jenny Johnson was reminiscent of dear dear Noelle (The Truth About Cats and Dogs) The usual Uma roles are defined by wit, confidence and excellent articulation, and on these rare occasions where she plays depressed and desperate characters, she becomes all the more lovable.
3. Luke Wilson plays an architect.
   
4. Rooting for Matt and finding G-Girl a psycho one minute, and then completely changing your mind: Finding Matt pathetic and wanting G-Girl to shove that chainsaw up his ass.
   
5. Matt's bestfriend played by Rainn Wilson (Six Feet Under)
6. Anna Faris made the friends that should be lovers thing with Luke Wilson's character work quite well, she is so much better when she under-acts. During the last 15 minutes of the movie, she fell back to her pigeon hole... as Cindy from the Scary Movies.
7. The best thing about this movie for me is the humanization of superheroes (which is what made the last Batman movie, the X-men movies and the Spiderman movies really good) Years of keeping a secret identity can make you paranoid, untrusting and neurotic. Superheroes can also have their hearts broken, they can be petty, they can be desperate and they can use their powers for personal reasons.
   

What I didn't:

1. Luke Wilson playing a normal, tax-paying and clumsy character usually works for me. This time it didn't.
2. The in-your-face humor of Wanda Sykes was underused.
3. The transformation of flashback Jenny into G-Girl should've been okey but they decided to add an increase in her bra cup size as a part of her transformation. Women who have bigger boobs have "super" powers in a way... but having that idea plastered on a movie screen is just tacky.
4. A more charismatic and memorable actor should've played Bedlam... someone along the likes of Jack Black or Matt Stone.
   
5. The last 15 minutes of the movie were predictable and uninspired. Everyone ends up happy of course.
   

My new movie rating system: Haha Value (Entertainment Value), Hmmm Value (Intellectual Value) and Sniff Value (Emotional Value)


All in all, My Super Ex-Girlfriend is an excellent feel-good movie. Watch it if you like movies like Shallow Hal, There's Something About Mary and Mystery Men. It may not be a life changing movie, It only engages your brain a little, but it has definite Entertainment Value.

It served its purpose for us. I left the cinema in party mode. We arrived at Red Lion, 10 minutes late and found out we were the first ones there. Drasted Filipino time. We waited at the bar... and actually had a fun time watching the bar tenders mix drinks and falter every now and then.

One hour and 30 minutes late, our extremely tardy celebrant arrives. We already had a couple of Millers each on her tab. Ok lang... Birthday mo naman eh. Beer, Pulutan, Marlboro Lights, Die-cast Volkswagens and great drinking buddies. It was an awesome night/morning.

Happy Two-Week Belated Birthday CA!

Labels: B-days, baguio, cafe, movies, nyt-out