My Friend Charlotte called me up two days ago to ask if I could babysit her dog for two months.
I almost choked. I can't even be responsible for myself, how could I f*ng take care of a f*ing dog?
Here's how bad I am with responsibilidades: I don't remember my parents' years of birth, thrice I lost my wallet, I don't memorize phone numbers (I can't even tell you my own number. Don't have it off the top of my head), I'm so bad in relationships I RECENTLY BEEN DUMPED THE SECOND TIME BY THE SAME MAN and the only thing I'm good about is sex. How could I be a foster parent to a creature which needs a lot of attention? To tell you the truth, if my penis is not connected with my body I could have had lost it a looooooong time ago. That's how irresponsible I am.
¨We don't have enough space in our apartment¨. I told her.
¨Ok, then maybe I should just get rid of it in the evening. I'm gonna put it in a sack or something and throw it on the beach¨, she said.
I was waiting for guilt to hit me hard on the head and heart but It didn't come.
¨Hmmm...what if you just lead it astray in the next town or something?, I said. (At least I was still concerned, no? hehehe)
¨I don't know what I will do but thanks anyway¨. And she hung up.
Jeesuz, I feel bad for her but what can I do? If she leaves the poor thing to me, she will have it back looking worse than Nicole Richie, all bone and skin or better yet, she will have it back in ashes.
I admit I am not the best person when it comes to pets and relationship. I mean yeah, my friends tell me sometimes when they are all in tears over a lost love, that pets are better than having a relationship, in which, I could not give my honest opinion on because I never had any sane affair nor a pet, nunca (Okay, we had dogs in the family when we were growing up but i thought they were hideous because they always lick their own genitals and one of the sons was humping the mom and at the end, she bore incestuous offsprings. Eeew.) In Alcoholics Anonymous, they believe that a person is ready to face the world again and establish a healthy human affair if they are able to keep a pet or a plant, ALIVE after a certain period of time. Genius. Good thing I am not an alcoholic so I would not have to go through these rituals. I don' need an animal and a plant to tell me that I messed up my lovelife, BIG TIME.Thank you very much.
My Spanish friend gave me a cactus for Christmas and that was the first and the last time that I saw of it. It is in my terraza though. I think it¡s ok. If it can survive the desert, it can survive my wonderful Spanish azotea.
At this age and time, it is true that people resort to adopting animals as a result of lack of sufficient human interaction.
Lonely? get a cat.
Want someone to greet you when you get home, tired and hammered from work? get dog.
Want someone to talk to? Get a parrot. In case you don´t want someone or something to talk back and think that everything you say true, get an Iguana, or a snake or a fish.
Want someone or something to cuddle at night? get a pig (oh, well, you might as well get a man then, anyway, they are the same) or a rabbit (oh, don't we just want to meet someone you shags like a rabbit...)
I believe it is not that people do not want to have a healthy relationship--whether it be friendship, family or romance. On the contrary, everyone aspires to have a perfectly normal human interaction. However,because we live in a world where everything moves fast and ever changing, there's always something to catch up with, something to chase, something to achieve or else, we feel inadequate, we feel less. Hence priorities have changed. We care more about how more we earn than the others, a better position in the workplace, a better car, a more sophisticated phone, a more expensive bag, a more luxurious apartment, a richer boyfriend, the best shag.
With the goal of achieving all of these which we thought are the most important things in life at the moment, we ignore REAL human connection. True, we go out, meet people, have fun but at the end of the day, WE ARE STILL ALONE (unless of course,you decide to tie the knot with someone which is the the SCARIEST of all).
Going out leads to one night stands. Parties gain you acquaintances but NOT real friends. Whether we admit it or not, we are adamant of getting involved especially EMOTIONALLY for the fear of losing our goals or worst, BE HURT.
And that's where our animal friends come in. They satisfy our secret longings for companionship, friendship and relieve us of our solitude. They will always be there to talk to at times when you desperately needs someone to talk with and there's no one to call to; they cheer you up after a shitty day at work; they don't argue, they don't complain, and they don't care if you haven't washed your sheets for weeks. If they're mad, they bite; they don't give you that cold stare and two week silence. They never say NO for a cuddle even if they are tired and they don't give a damn if you watch UGLY BETTY when everyone thought you have an IQ higher than your Math professor in College.
Sometimes, I feel bad for these pets. They become shock absorbers to their emotionally imbalance, lonely, solitary owners. Well, I guess that's what they are for anyway, basically to animate, to cheer up and to at least be a living reminder that one can ever be alone. There´s always a stray dog or cat in this world's dark alleys to become your friend even when nobody wants to.
At the last party I attended, there was this guy who has a snake as pet (it was de-fanged and got no venom). He said he chose to have one because just like Iguana, it is low maintenance too. I thought he was talking about his boyfriend who sat on a corner the whole time, seemingly lost in a blackhole. I was wrong, his boyfriend's name was Juan, not Iguana.
I will get some pets too someday: Two Baby Crocodiles converted into a shiny, fabulous, expensive pair of stilletos called Blahnik...
Wednesday, 16 May 2007 at 02:46 Posted by LuxuryHappy
Monday, 14 May 2007 at 13:42 Posted by LuxuryHappy
I just can't get enough of AMY WINEHOUSE. She's fierce ( I like using that word. It sounds evil but cute)! Never mind if she looks like Morticia Adams or a cheap Peruvian Transvestite hooker, she has a haunting voice which will make you weep and ache for more.
She is the only girl in the world who looks sleek with a beehive hair and loads of tattoos.
What can I say...Amy, you got me drowned with your music.
Can't get enough of Amy yourself? Click here.
at 02:00 Posted by LuxuryHappy
My weekend was sinful.
First, I binged on Ice cream and chocolate and all the carbs that I could get my hands on and then contemplated on killing myself for eating too much. I was thinking if it would be the pill, the knife or my apartment's rooftop but in the end I decided against them all (obviously or else I won't be writing this entry). I remembered I still had to sway them hips Saturday night down nevernevergayland and I needed all my body parts intact, bloated or not.
In Manila during my wild party days, my weekends starts at 2 pm and ends brunchtime the day after. Depending on how many Mojitos I drank or who I slept with the previous night, you can catch me having my first coffee for the day in the mall wearing the darkest bumblebee shades at a time when people are just about to make dinner. Partying in Manila was indescribable though. It was pure bliss. Clubs play the latest music from all around the world unlike here in Spain where everything is at least 20 years behind (Okay, fine. Well at least here in Malaga) and people dress up for the event. I missed dressing up to the hilt and wearing the best accessory one can have---best friends.
So, at midnight, Antonio and I went out to Torremolinos and was a little surprised how packed the place was. Surely, it's almost summer now although the wind is still quite chilly in the evenings, so there were a lot of extranjeros (foreigners) most of them from eastern Europe where everyday you can throw your meat outside your house to freeze, ready and fresh for the next months consumption.
It was like a prelude for this year's Europe Gay Pride in Madrid only it is, in the little Castro of the coast.
The night was strangely dominated by bears----chunky to obese gay men who wear cheap leather outfit and hair! Hair, there and everywhere. I am a little bit fed up now with hair. In fact, I just shaved all my body hairs and I mean ALL. The Spanish have this weird keenness on hair which is suppose to be the sign of virility and being macho but the last thing I would want to do is to comb someone else's body with my hand to find his holy grail. You know what I mean?
SO, as I said, the bears were out of north pole and frolicking in Torremolinos that night. Everybody was busy dancing, drinking and looking for preys when suddenly it struck me: I wanted to flirt. The clean sort of flirting. you know...starting with eye contact, then some small talk...some little lip nibbling...going home hand in hand.It's been a while since I have done it.
I tell you, in Costa del Sol, the whole gay flirting culture is dead. Killed by the presence of the dark, filthy, dangerous, sinful but absolutely sexy labyrinth called THE DARKROOM. No one bothers to take the first moves anymore. The awkward gazes and smile are gone, the little chat about Madonna or Kylie or Martha has disappeared, and the clumsy touches are a thing of the past. People KNOW that after 3am, everybody would be in the dungeon doing their shopping, trying to stay away from rotten meat; doing a catfight--- nails, claws and hair pulling--- over an 18 year old cateto (One who has lived in the pueblo his whole life; very part of the mass. Cheeky.) who was in town for the first time to try something other than humping poor sheeps.
Anyway, I am sick and tired of the STD infested darkroom and I wanted to save myself from gurgling rubbing alcohol so I decided to do a little flirting activity, sanitized version.
And I proceeded. I did a little eye to eye contact with a muscled mary alone in a corner. He smiled, I smiled. The climbed the next step: moved closer to him. exchange of hi's, hello's. He's Portuguese and lives in Spain for 4 years now. His Spanish is passable but I thought he could do better with his tongue on other things.
Then the red light appeared:
¨You wanna come with me for a hit?¨, he said.
¨You are with a hit¨, I whispered with my bubblegum smile.
¨No, I mean, a COKE hit¨.
¨I don't do that. I can put two dicks in my nostrils but not coke¨
and I left him.
I thought there was hope left in this part of the Coast. I mean, for one, people do not communicate at all. I know the club is not really the best place for a sensible conversation about war, religion or politics but at least a light conversation which leads to a mindblowing sleepover.
It is really frustrating. I have the theory that it is all because of the effing darkroom. Again, as an example, in Manila, we have no darkrooms. Well, there's always this part of the club where you thought the management was so tacky to put floral printed curtains on until you realize it's whats BEHIND the curtains that really matters but that's it... and only B-clubs do that. In general, people flirt and talk because there was no other alternative way to get a laid but by that.
My flirting skills are in dire need of polishing nowadays. I was brilliant back then. I am not bragging but how could you get a Shaqueal O'neal (yes, he was black) look-alike who you meet in a straight club to be on his knees and do wonderful things with his mouth to your body? That's a feat and I did it.
It is strange that in a culture where people talk a lot, gossip a lot and shout a lot, nobody would want to carry a decent, or even a flirty conversation at all. I might be wrong for all I know. Maybe these places are just NOT for talking.
Moments later, Antonio re-appeared and resurfaced from the depths of the labyrinth. He looked quite disappointed. He quickly answered my investigatory look.
¨The guy was a pig. He liked to spit at my face!¨
I died of laughter. I realized there's only two things that come out of the people's mouth here: spits and moans.
So, I gave up my hunt for a clean, pure, fun flirting game and like the Portuguese drug addict, I needed a shot of my own drug---the pure adrenalin rush of a 5 minute quickie. My mind said NO but my loins said GO. I heeded to the latter and I disappeared in the darkroom along with all my hopes of Mills and Boon kind of romance...