Menacing the Men in Granada

I´m bringin´sexy back to this fucking blogsite. Well, in the first place it never left...just look at my pictures and you suddenly feel some warmth in your groin area.

After the long drive...the effing hot sun...a bottle of SPF 50 and a dramatic fall in the palace, I still managed to take some candid shots of the most delicious men in Granada. Well, actually just a few of them coz THERE WEREN´T THAT MANY. A lot of the tourist are octogenarian couples trying to have a good look at planet Earth for the last time.

Enough of the blabbering. Let´s get down to business.

Guy 1: He must be German, or Norweigan, I am not really sure but who cares where he comes from. He is just soooo sweet looking isn´t he? The guy next door type who you can proudly take home and introduce to yur parents without any hesitations. He is the type of guy who still writes handwritten (not emailed ) love letters and gives you chocolate and flowers in your anniversaries or even if you are just pretending to be sick or something. Your nieces and nephews play with him (though never with you) and your siblings adore him. Your family is arms and legs wide open to welcome him as part of your family even though you are dating him for just two weeks.

Beware though. Sweet guys can be tasteless after a long time. In bed, he could be a little bit boring with all his little kisses, gentle touches and delicate manoeuvres when in reality, what you really want is a mind blowing sex with skilful moves, burning caresses filled with filthy shoutings, groanings and moanings that will put JENNA JAMESON into shame.

I say go with this guy and you´ll go straight to heaven. I mean the one up in the sky though, not in your bed.

Let´s hear it from Guy Number 2:

He is the coolest of cool. He watches MTV all day long, listens to Hed Kandi in his Nano pod, goes to ZARA every weekend to check out the latest style and party all night with the most beautiful people in town.

Ask him what the purpose of his life is though and you´ll get the question please response. Ask him who Bill Gates is, he probably wouldn´t have a clue. Ask him who Barrack Hussein Obama is and he thinks he´s a terrorist. That is the reason why, YOU DON´t ask him anything at all. Just shut you mouth up and move your head up and down while your´re riding his ride. Get your micromini skirt , your stilleto shoes and party with him on a Saturday night just to be seen. He is a trophy boyfriend and you have to let people see your award. Be glamorous. Be cool even if it means spending all your hard earned cash on a weekend, leaving you happy to be pigging on Coke Light and raisins the whole week ahead.

Moving´s Guy Number 3:

Well, Hello there Muscled Mary Poppins!
Mr. Muscle 2007 daily feeds on steroids. Ask him the drug of his choice, we would surely tell you it is the Big S. His hobbies include 1000 crunches a day, checking out himself at the mirror 24/7, and secretly checking out the guys in the gym´s locker room.

My friend Jorge said the lousiest lovers in this world are the muscled men. They are nice to look at, but that´s just it. NOTHING MORE. In my heydays of being Ms. Ma-kati in my country, I can therefore conclude that´s Jorge´s theory should be put in the textbook, or the WIKIPEDIA because it is sooo true. I was this black muscled man before and while doing it, he was staring at himself at the life-size mirror in the room, adoring his glistening, sweaty, six packs. Yeah, he was beautiful but after an hour-long attempt to get HIS up, I got tired and left. Beware muscled men, you may be big and strong but there´s THAT part of your body which is NOT.

And then there´s the WINNER!

I know, I know, he is muscled as well. But unlike guy number 3, his muscles are natural not steroids. This guys must had had a very difficult/poor childhood that he used to chop wood for fire in his native Swiss Alps or something. However, after noticing that he could make business out of his muscles, he immediately enrolled himself in a strip dancing lessons and eventually became the highest paying stripper in town. His clients include old but filthy rich gay fashion designers, unhappy CEO wives and the local priests and pastors in the country. After 6 months, Whoa!!! Money+good looks=success!

Too bad I had a bad fall that very uneventful day otherwise, I might have had one of these beauties in my bed that very same night.

Oh well, I should just be glad that Colin Farrell is still my screensaver.

Till then!

Granada (mis)Adventures (Part 2)

The temperature is reaching almost 30 degrees when we arrived in Alhambra. I can see a lot of people enjoying the sunshine the Costa Del Sol is known for. The place was like a Sunday Market and every race in the world is represented today;segregated by color, united by one goal--to the see famous, almost mythical Palace.

We were starving after having driven almost another hour from Sierra Nevada. Satellite suggests we have lunch. I don´t feel like eating still but Alhambra is a vast palace and I need some energy or I might just lie breathless after another hour or so.

We check out the nearby restos. Everything´s full especially the terrazas where you can have a nice view of the area while devouring paella or something.

We pick a restaurant called La Yedra Real. It is a typical Spanish restaurant and not that full. I get alarmed. So-so people means so-so food. Still, we don´t have any options.

We sit on the terrace five minutes after a group left. As my patient companion checks the menu, I pulled out a cigarrete. 30 seconds after, a waiter arrives.

¨Perdona Señor pero no se puede fumar aqui, eh?!¨ (I am sorry mister but you can´t smoke here).


The food was not orgasmic at all. Satellite´s lamb chops are soggy and my pork fillets are tough. I was right. It was so-so. Catered for the tourists who don´t know any difference.

Two British men sit on the table beside ours. They are huge. They look like dodgy businessmen / with their big smoky spectacles, beard and huge bellies with books on their hands. While waiting for their order, they read a map of the place and GLANCE at me. I catch them glancing / staring at me for more than three times now. I get conscious and irritated. They must be wondering how I came to Spain. If I was transported illegally by boat along with hundreds of Nigerians and Africans who alight every single day in the coast or if I was smuggled in a filthy tanker ship inside a fake Luis Vuitton suitcase. Or they just wonder how stunning I am. Either way, I am uncomfortable with how they check me out.

From the terraza, I see three buses filled with filthy rich Japanese tourists. I decide to make a little drama.

¨Satellite, do you think MY JET would make it back home to Japan at 7pm tomorrow morning if we leave here in two hours? I have to see the Prime Minister tomorrow for this project he was insisting me to do¨. I made sure they heard it.

They stare at me. I stare back. Their eyes drop down to their maps.

We decide to move on with the trip. The entrance to the whole place is lovely. Tall pine trees and well manicured plants lined the pathway welcoming the visitors who willingly paid 10 euros just to see the mythical ruins.

It is 3:30 pm and our tickets are for 5 pm. A couple more hours to kill. We sit on a bench beside a kiosk. As I am sipping on my fuzzy drink and Satellite on his whiskey, the sun shines like it has never been in the past few weeks. The heat is intense and I can feel GLOBAL WARMING on my shoulders. Yes, it is not normal that the weather in the month of March is like this. People are supposed to still be using heaters and Eskimo type coats at this time of the year but as I see now, everyone´s sweating.

I am getting bored. We take a walk and did some more picture takings. Satellite is getting impatient, but I don´t care. KODAK moments should be taken advantaged of.

el coliseo dentro del palacio

fuera del coliseo

It is 5pm and at last, we are going to enter the Palace. I am excited. The queue is long. A German couple are infront of me with their video camera scanning the whole place while a pair of French lovers are exchanging sloppy kisses behind me.

Words are not sufficient in this blog to describe the beauty that Alhambra truly is. The view from the top of the Palace is amazing. You can practically see the whole Costa Del Sol!

As we continue, the paths are getting higher and the cobbled stoned ground is beginning to make it difficult for me to walk because of my foot accident not long ago.

I take a sip from my bottled water when I feel something wrong on my balance. I have no balance. There is a crevice on the ground and I just slipped on it falling ...on my bad sprained foot!!!

For the second time in my life, I see stars again. White pain shoots up my head and I cannot breath.

Satellite quickly moves to catch me but it was too late, I am down on the ground.

I ask him to pull my foot gently hoping that whatever misalignment of cartilage would be put in place. He pulled it...painfully..then we hear a CRACK!

Oh God, I feel like I am dying.! I could not move and cold sweats cascade down my brows. Two German ladies suggests (in the most incomprehensible German-Spanish attempt) that I should lay my foot on the nearby bench so I did.

All my patience and my good humor is lost now. I suggest that we go home after being inside the palace for 20 minutes. He agrees. He is trying to calm me down by saying nonsense.

I tell him he could help by shutting his mouth up.

He did.

He drives without a word. I don´t wanna know either.

Slowly, I close my eyes. With my right foot throbbing, I dream of the Alhambra Palace in my mind...but in sepia.

2007 Philippine Blog Awards: WE are nominated!

I was lazily checking my technorati stats when I saw two other sites who have my name on their blogsites. I was puzzled. Why would they blog about me? Am I THAT famous now? Have I done something in my life worthy of another persons blog post? Hmmm...I began to read intently.

It turned out that they were not blogging about me at all. They were blogging about the 2007 Philippine Blog Awards and I am one the of nominees!!!

I admit, I am not very lucky with competitions and things like that. The major ones I won in my life was winning the Science Quiz Bee in our town of Pola when I was like what...11 or 12? Then, of course, the infamous Mr. Junior Award in our high school prom---a beauty contest out of a fish bowl. Since then, I haven´t won anything again, not even a bar of Mars or an Orea cookie in birthday parties of my friends´children.

So, since I am relatively a newcomer in the blogosphere, I don´t think I would bag any awards at all. However; seeing my blogsite on the contest´s website makes my heart skip, thump, jump, and suddenly went on a microsecond stop. It was like seeing your first born child. I am seeing my baby!

Fruit of my two-month long sleepless sessions over coke zeros and L&M lights, camwhoring and stealing graphics from the net. It was all worthwhile and the bitch is happy.

To all my friends who flicked through my page even for less than 0 seconds, Thank you very much. To my readers from all over the world...China, Mexico, Singapore, Dubai, Saudi Arabia, Germany...I don´t know who you are guys but at least you can leave a comment so I would know you are peeping through my shrine. Send a smile...a kiss...a hug... or your pics and I will gladly post them without any problems.

And of course, to my faithful minions from the UK, Ontario, New York, France and Italy...thank you bitches! If all goes well, I will visit each one of you and post your gorgeous faces here.

Special thanks to Ms. Mariel Clark for opening my awareness on blogging.

I would not win this year, I bet my queenhood on that. Do not lose hope though. Just stay tuned because next year, I make sure, there will be JENOSIDE in the Philippine Blog Awards and we will all be happy bunnies. In the meantime, let me pop a champaigne. Cheers!

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Granada (mis)Adventures (Part 1)

After 2 years of planning, my trip to Granada has turned into reality last Saturday. Two main reasons why I have been dying to see this historical town of Spain: One, for the snow (since it is only the snow peak in Andalucia) and two, because of the famous ALHAMBRA Palace which is a UNESCO heritage site.

At 8:30am sharp, I forced myself to get out of my comfy bed and meet my friend Satellite for the trip we planned a week ahead. My bag was so full, it looked like I was going on a month long vacation to the Swiss Alps or something. I didn´t have any ski gadgets though for the reason that I don´t ski, skate of anything that involves wheeled shoes since I don´t have a sense of balance. I had my first steps when I was 3 years old and my mom said I just had a big head, she had to keep an eye on me in case it would hit the floor.

Enough of the self incriminating pasts. What I am trying to get at is that outdoor activities are not really my thing. I wasn´t and still am not a sporty person and if there is any activity I truly despise in this world. that would be walking. Don´t get me wrong. I can walk like 5 to 20 meters or something but I would rather get a cab and not eat the whole week rather than walking under the blazing sun. The longest distance I have ever walked is the 7 km stretch of BORACAY island with an Australian hunk who, after 4 days and nights of being together, told me that he did not want any relationships at all. Well, I told him...¨honey, who said I want one, in the first place? (presumptuous!)¨ and never saw him again after. He was the sweetest of men and yet the cowardest of them all (warning: beware of Aussie men. They are like kangaroos. They hop..and hop..and hop).
Anyway, why do I keep on getting sidetracked? Moving on with the trip...I have prepared a mini travelogue with vignettes. Hope you like it so keep on scrolling down.And I mean down.

The Road to Granada

Exiting Malaga for the first time in 3 years is literally a breeze of fresh air. It is as if I am transferred to another dimension where everything is just different from the coast. For one, I could not see the sea now. What surrounds me is a breathtaking landscape of greenery and postcard-like images of houses and farms reminiscent of old rural Spain.

It is almost 9:30 am and the sun is blazing. It feels like summer has arrived and the days of snow and frost is withering. I open the passenger window. Satellite has been chatty today and he has been raving about his boyfriend for the last 30 minutes we have been on the road.

¨I am really excited to see him . I´ve been looking on cheap tickets on the net already¨, he says, eyes firm on the road. His boyfriend, like me is Asian.

¨Good for you¨, I say as I tilt my head a little outside the window.

I love how the wind touches my face...blowing my hair. Pure liberty. Sheer ecstasy. Something that I have not had since I I started to be confined and boxed in the corporate world with rules to obey and and money to endlessly chase.

I am in awe. Miles and miles of astounding beauty surrounds me. I wonder, how do they manage to live on the top of a hill, away from everything? What if you forgot to buy something from your grocery list? Would you drive another 5 miles to get an onion or something?

I guess they must have been used to it. Everyone has his own survival tactics anyway. As a city dweller for a long time, my definition of survival is to walk outside my apartment at 3 in the morning knowing that my faithful 7-11 stores are open for me to buy my fags... knowing that the city is wide awake with bustling cars and 24 hour restaurants which serve the best porridge for the insomniacs and the night hawkers. Here in Spain, I have forgotten that skill. I have adapted the weird Spanish horario (timetable) which means everything is closed at 2-4pm and after 10pm. I had to shop loads of cigs in case of emergency or else, I will wander the streets in the wee hours of the mornings desperately looking for them, in vain.

Alas, the sight of the famous Toro. Yes, taken quite afar however; it definitely reminds me that I am away from my homeland. I am now in the land of the Toros and not the Water Buffalos.

I turn on Satellite´s car stereo trying to break the cold silence the envelops us for the past 20 minutes or so. I am looking for an English station but all that´s coming from it is a faint Flamenco tune I recognize from the movie Camaron.

I turn the volume up.

An hour has passed and we are about to reach Granada´s town proper.

The town of Granada is small yet quaint and oddly picturesque. Although I see a big shopping mall, El Corte Ingles, the typical atmosphere of a Spanish rural neighbourhood dominates the air. Satellite suggests that we have coffee first since he hasn´t had breakfast yet so I eagerly give in to have a taste of a typical Granada coffee.

The café is not all busy but it seems like a queue is waiting to be served and we are at the end of it. The waitress is chatting with her co-worker and our presence did not make her lift an eyebrow even if it means another penny to her pocket.

After a while, 2 coffees and sandwich mixtos arrive. We talk about what to do next. Whether to go directly to Sierra Nevada or the Alhambra. Since it is almost 12 pm, I suggest we go ahead to the mountains since it would be quite difficult to travel uphill at sunset. He agrees.

We pay and leave. The girl is still chatting. Very typical Spanish. If she were in my country, she surely must have been fired ages ago.

After a couple more minutes on the road, the beautiful landscape was replaced with nightmares. The horrible sight of construction sites filled the view and I feel bad with what I see.

I close my eyes not see them. They remind me of the coast. I am not there at the moment.

When I open my eyes. I could not believe what I see. At last...I am near the snow!!!

I am so delighted. 28 years of waiting and finally I could see and touch real snow!

Satellite, being British was quite mystified with all my fascination with snow. You see, I came from a tropical country in the East where the sun shines 365 days a year and the chances of snow is snowballs in hell. I have not been lucky to see it during my short trip to France and Madrid and where I live right now is the sunniest part of the Spain as well hence; my enthusiasm to see snow up close and personal is sky high.

The zig-zag road to Sierra Nevada seems never ending. Satellite drives calmly half listening to the flamenco tune in his stereo, half listening to me.

At last. The Ski resort.

We are almost on the entrance of the mountain´s foot when we see a traffic policeman signing everyone to turn and park away to a different direction. The underground parking is already full and cars are lined up kilometers away from what should be a walking distance only. Satellite took the turn and we find ourselves almost too far from the entrance, we could never afford walk to and back to where we should park. It was so far, almost a different side of the mountain altogether. We forgot it is a Saturday and worse, Semana Blanca, which means, everyone...basically everyone is here.

I am in dilemma. having suffered from a bad sprain just months ago, I could never (even if I try) walk that distance with my foot. I just cannot.

We stop for a while. He asks me:

¨What do we do now?¨

It was disappointing but I have to make a choice.

¨Let´s just go to the Alhambra¨


We leave.

I came, I saw the snow, but never conquered.