My Name is Jenna Jameson. I am a Teleporn Star.

Riiiiiiiiing! Riiiiiiiiiinnnnnnngggg! Hello?

Hello! My name is Jenna Jameson and I am Spain´s biggest teleporn star. Well, at least I used to be. No, I don´t have any connections to the REAL Jenna Jameson aside from the fact the we have the same name and almost the same profession. She, as the world´s biggest porn star, and I, as Spain´s biggest telemarketing whore, well yeah... used to be. Now, I write and getting paid for it.

When I moved to the Costa del sol in 2004, I didn´t know that there was only a limited selection of jobs that you can actually do. Either you become :

a.) a smelly kitchen staff serving boquerones and tinto de veranos in your friendly chiringuitos or

b.) domestic-diva-for-pay cleaning huge Spanish villas; getting molested by your big, fat hairy SeƱor and being called ¨Cha-cha¨ short for La Muchaha for the rest of your life


c.) a mafia mistress/mafia owned prostitute

e.) a con

f.) a timeshare telemarketer/con

g.) a con

e.) telemarketer

So after a short stint of being option A, I decided to move on and shift career as option E. It was a grand shift I tell you, I became an overnight sucesss.

I was inviting old, sweaty, grumpy, viagra-using Managing Directors and Company owners in the UK to experience the pleasures of sponsoring drug awareness books for children age 9, 10 and 11. It was whoring with a heart. You see, I was convincing them to spend their money for a charitable deed instead of splurging on tons of fake Viagras, buying dinner for their Russian mistresses or wasting money over expensive trip to Thailand for a quick, mind-blowing blow jobs from ladyboys. I saved their souls from sins although I prostituted mine over the phone. A lot of them would not want to sponsor but there are many of those kind hearted, half-witted people who will give me their credit card details on my first moans.

When I applied for the job, I was more than prepare for the trade. How come? I was trained in the best call centre cesspool of Asia, if not the world--The Philippines. I used to work for an American Directory Assistance in Makati which is more or less like the West Point of all call centres in the country. I was a telephone dominatrix working from mindnight til 8am the following day giving residential and business listings in the US , Canada, and the Papi Chulos of Puerto Rico. I learned to speak with a flawless American accent and later on promoted to pimp the streets of UK via 118*** directory assistance. So there you go, I was in the truest sense of the word, an INTERNATIONAL CALL (centre) GIRL.

Back to Spain:

At first I didn´t know what name to use over the phone. Aiming for Teleporn stardom, I had to bank on a name which every pervs in this world know so I baptised myself, Jenna Jameson. It was not difficult to keep my anonymity in our office. Not one of my proper English (all women) officemates knew who Jenna Jameson was. In the UK she was not that famous except for the filthy Pakistani restaurant owners who said they have my precious intimate parts as a wallpaper to their mobile phones.

Until one day when a delicious british hunk David, started to work with us as a teleporn newbie.

He heard me said my name on the phone and was flabbergasted.

"What did you say your name was?", he asked

" Exactly what you heard and I won´t repeat it coz you might get excited"

" Holy shit! I love Jenna Jameson!"

" Well honey, you have to keep your horses because it is just my whoring name. If you wanna get to bed with my voice, dial my extension"

" Okay, love."

The whole office was scandalized after knowing the real identity of my name. My boss tried to eternally alter it into some hideous ones like JJ, John, Jay, Jason and god knows what else. However, the accounts department always got a difficult time chasing my cheques because the clients would say, "Oh, I didn´t speak with a man. I spoke with a very nice lady!" Hence, I continued to be a teleporn star with ¨Jenna Jameson¨pinned onto my bosom.

I tried to stop prostituting books on drug awareness for kids on the phone however; the money was excellent and really did not fancy working as those options mentioned above. For a year and half I continued to lick, suck, blow, hump and most of the time, swallow all the verbal abuses and soul degrading remarks from all company masters in the UK because I knew, at the end of the week, everything translates into a bouncing beautiful cheque.

Until one day, the unexpected thing happened--we had to shut the our own little pornography world! One the company directors suddenly vanished to build her own teleporn dynasty in the UK. Her greatest bet to success--the same book that we have been pimping for years!.

Actually it was not that unexpected since Costa Del Sol is a playground of the rich, the famous and big time cons e.g. swindlers , drug dealers, mafias etc. Don´t get me wrong, the coast is beautifullllllll and it´s province´s flagbearer, Marbella, has always been the the Nice, Cannes, or St. Tropez of the Andalucian world, if not of Spain. Celebrities, royalties and well known Hollywood personalities flock here during summer and in Puerto Banus, Marbella´s party port, bottled water costs 20 euros (that´s 1,200 Php) , you´ll be glad to get pissed at home first before hitting the clubs there.

The good times of whoring was over and I was scared. I didn´t know any other jobs than licking the f*ing phone, groaning, moaning breathing hard till I get that climactic response--- ¨YESSSSSSSSSSSS, send me the invoice, please!¨ at the end of the line. It was tough but we had to move on. My stardom became stardoomed. I had to close that chapter of my life; the same thing I closed my legs, and my mouth.

The last time I heard of David was months ago. He called me Jenna.

I knew I had my 5 minutes of fame.


Dia de San Valentin--Almost non existent in Spain. They are hot blooded people, they do not need to be reminded of mind blowing sex, flowers and chocolates because they do that all the time!

But I am not Spanish.

I admit I love cheeky celebrations like these. It is the only time of the year when one can wear red and can get awaywith iteven if it doesn´t matches his/her skin tone.
I thought and still think that Valentines is a worldwide consumerism conspiracy in a month where nothing really significant is happening. So hotels, motels, restaurants, Hallmark and chocolate factories have united to create this day to push the button to power spending.

I am not going out tonight or anything as I am doomed for singlehood and Mr. Valentines is missing (definitely looking for his Prince Charming as well). However, this day reminds me how good it is to be fabulously unattached. No dinner reservations to make; no mushy, tacky cards to give; no sleepovers in flea-infested motel rooms and most of important of all, no unwanted pregnancies!!!!!

I will be sleeping it off tonight and tomorrow, it will all be over. We will all be back to reality check: Love=Evol.

High School Hullabaloos...

If high school was a nightmare for some, it was the start of my blossoming into a real queen. If princesses and royalties are put up into finishing schools in Switzerland to learn the art of folding napkins and learn languages, I was put up in a very strict exclusively catholic high school in the fabulous island of Mindoro to get my hands on piano then eventually take a vow of chastity like the virgin Queen Elizabeth I.

My former school has always been run by nuns. However, the news of my entrance--a truly one of kind gay twink from another town--made them decide that one can only exorcise evil for so long.I was just too much for them.So, to the tune of heartbreaking ¨Maalaala Mo Kaya¨with rondalla and all, they said goodbye for good just before the end of my first year. Too bad because I was particularly fond of a specific nun, Sister Gracia, who has taught me the divine secrets of do, re, mi, in her old pedal organ.

High School brought me memories that I have buried 6 feet under the ground and cemented so it would never hit my now-full cerebellum again. However, everytime there´s a news of a forthcoming reunion, like zombies, those memories bring back to life and haunt me till I scream like Drew Barrymore in what else..Scream. To help myself permanently let go of the past and move on to my morphing to queenhood, I will try to excavate my high school experiences and let you examine them. At least this will save me from an expensive psychological sessions to heal my frequent mental lapse.

High school notes:
I was a damn smart student to begin with in high school. However, when I discovered that my vocabulary was sufficient to lead me into the ways of the world, I just didn´t bother anymore. I could lash everyone with 3000 complex words in a sentence in one go that I just ignored other subjects aside from English (my english teachers loved me and I loved them), writing and frog dissecting class.
Didn´t you think it was sooooo brutally gay what we did to those frogs? First, we killed them by boiling them alive in a tin can (or at least that´s what I did to mine. God, I was crying when I was doing it. I mean, princesses like me should KISS a frog and turn them into gorgeous Prince Charmings...not KILL them!) then we dissected them to study the parts, dried them, then DRESSING THEM UP!!!! God, looking back, it was indeed hilarious. I swear, I got a soaring high grade on that subject since I dressed mine in full drag ( he was male frog by the way)--dress, high heels with matching little bag! From that day on, I thought I would better be off as a fashion designer and not a bloody scientist.

Math, Physics and Chemistry were my worst high school enemies. Because of those,I developed a deep, dark aversion to numbers that until now, I don´t want anything to do with any number games unless of course when it comes to counting money and men. And oh, How could I ever forget the ever so hateful CAT training? I never wanted to get my flawless skin burned under the island sun so I use sunblock with SPF 45 before the training. I was part of the medics team but I made sure I always faint (or at least act like it) so I would be brought away from the filthy fields.

Though my grades in high school were as colourful as the gay flag, I was considered a defiant. I was oftentimes accused of spreading rumours about teachers´ love affairs and leading my male classmates into sinful temptations. To clear things out, I would never do such things because: I had my own elicit love affairs at that time, I did not need to get involved into someone else's, thank you. Also, at the tender age of 10 I knew I like older man. So if there was someone I would like to have my cherry popped with at that time, It would not be with classmates but with their fathers! Got it? Having said the truth, still at that time, The Mrs. Minchins of the school thought I was a total bitch in the making, my grades in CONDUCT was consistently rotting in the cesspit.

Nevertheless, I gaily swayed through the pastel pink world of of high school. I was president of the dramatics club and it helped me perfect the craft of being a drama queen that I am now. I was a cheerleader as well. NO, I did not carry virgin cheerleaders on my shoulders just like a typical male cheerleader---I WAS ONE OF THE FEMALE CHEERLEADERS along with my equally fantabulously gay best friend Cloyd. Also, I was a Junior Prom King. Believe it or not? Believe it! It was the time when the island was suffering from mudflow terror and we had to do the prom on the schoolground sans the glittering gowns and tuxedos. We had to empathize with the sufferings brought about by a disastrous storm. In the end, we enjoyed it like lunatics.
Hey if you think my extra curriculars were just limited to faggotry , you are wrong. I was one of the high school paper editors and my articles used to make the mothers weep.

There were a lot of adventures and misdvaentures along the way but this blog would never be enough. A lot of significant and unforgettable characters too...the beauty queens..the leeches (sip-sip)... and the TEACHERS of course! Now, don´t even let me start...

And then there was the end of it all. I was at the end of the Honor list....damn! number 15! Good thing was, they read the honors from the bottom and not from the top so my name got to be called first than anyone else´s. Graduation day was scandalous...there were walk outs, gossips on the side benches from the mothers...and medal bonanzas of course (sorry, 5 ang medals ko nun)! It was really a disappointing number 15 for me since I knew I worked my cute ass to the top and I deserved more. My extra curriculars weren´t strong enough they said.

Hey, I would have loved to see the POPE during the World Youth Day in Manila. My mom could have easily paid for that trip and that could have added some brownie points for me to be included in the top ten. But no, you didn´t add me to the list of attendess because you thought I wasn´t saint-ly good enough!!!! Well eat your hearts out coz now, I´m only a 3-hour flight away from the Pope and the Vatican. Bwahahaha!

Anyway, high school was a roller coaster ride and I admit, I enjoyed it or at least I enjoyed the memories that I have of those days. I have a selected memory, sorry, so I just remember what I want to remember. Try it. It is good for your health.

To my batchmates who will be attending this years reunion, enjoy! To my male classmates who have passed the acne and anorexic / obese stage of adolescence and now full grown delicious men, send me your numbers or better yet, email me. To everyone who made my life hell in high school...karma chameleon will be on your way and your kids will get it.

Os quiero y Os echo de menos mucho, Batch 95!

(Love yah and miss ya all, batch 95!)

The Oscars and Madam Auring intuitions...

14 days before Oscars. I promised to watch all the nominated flicks this year but unfortunately, Hollywood films are shown here in Spain at least 3 months delayed due to dubbing purposes so until now some of them have not been released here. I had the chance to see the ones up for major nominations, though.

Speaking of dubbing, I have long been accustomed to watch dubbed tv shows or films. Training ground: Marimar. That Mexican telenovela which was so famous in the Philippines and the rest of the third world countries in the 90´s. Watching Marimar was like watching the fall of civilization but it was diabolically addictive, it was compulsive watching. I was so hooked to it that I could sing its theme (it was in Spanish and I didn´t speak any Spanish then!) in full until now.

My first trip to the Spanish cinema was when I saw "Los Chicos Del Coro" (The Chorus Boys). I wasn´t that good in the language before but I really wanted to see that film so I pleaded my Spanish friend and professor, Antonio to go to the movies with me as some sort of my course exercise. I didn´t understand everything that they were saying in the film but I realize I didn´t have to because one can easily get it through common sense. The film was so beautiful I cried, cried and cried, I had to be stretchered out of the moviehouse.

It takes patience and full concentration in general to watch a film in Spanish if you are not a native speaker. Although dubbed films are easier to understand since they make the dialogues and enunciations clearer, the synchronization of the mouth to the words are a lot of times off, it will make you ludacris. In original Spanish films of course, they talk 3000 words per minute plus a smorgasbord of accents and colloquialisms so be prepared, clean your ears before going to get each and every word they say.

After a year and a half of painstaking language lessons from my equally hysterical professor (he is so much of exigent teacher that a Japanese student of his had to bring a face towel everyday and have it ready on her desk to wipe her tears!), I can now watch Spanish films from beginning to end with ease.
I even dreamt in Spanish just recently.

Anyway, here´s my own Oscars bets:

Best Picture: The Queen
I know this would not win because it is British but plot and acting wise, I think it deserves the statue.
Best Actor: Forest Whitaker
Strange looking man but one hell of an actor. Did you see him in the Crying Game? I admit I had a crush on him on that one basically because I felt I was the leading lady/man.
I´ve seen Will Smith´s film as well and no, he would not win in that one.
Best Actress: Helen Mirren
Acting at it´s finest. I thought she wasn´t Helen Mirren portraying the Queen. I thought She WAS the Queen. Freaky, she even looks like her. If she would not win this year I swear, there is no justice in the world.
As I live in Spain, I would not not mention Penelope Cruz. She was long time misused in Hollywod giving her trashy roles but a few would know that ¨Pe¨(as she is called here in Spain), is a good actress to begin with. She was in the early Almodovar films and she crosses boundaries appearing in Italian and French movies. Penelope is the first ever Spanish to be nominated in the Oscars acting category and the country is so proud of her. Her next film will be directed by no other than Woody Allen in Barcelona. Having said all of these, she will definitely lose to the Queen. Better luck next time girl; at least now, Hollywood knows that you are not just their average Latina.
Best Supporting Actor: Eddie Murphy
He wasn´t just acting in Dreamgirls, he was enjoying it and I think that is something really good to see. Runner up: Alan Larkin in Little Miss Sunshine. His character is so real, it reminds us of our own abuelos (grandfather).
Best Supporting Actress: Jennifer Hudson
No one would ever guess that she never had any acting experiences at all. She was a pro in Dreamgirls and her singing? Oh, please don´t let me start. Jennny girl-friend, go and give Simon Cowell a big slap in the face!
Best Foreign Film: EL Laberinto del Fauno (Pan´s Labyrinth)
Guillermo del Toro´s finest film as of date.
Spain in the Franco era + Harry Potter-ish fairy tales + blood + gore + violence = EXCELLENT!
One for the "best films of the century" archives.

That´s it. Let´s see what happens. If my predictions will be true I will drop everything, change career and give Madam Auring a run for her money.