Even Heraclitus can't help but cry at my predicament. Look at that sexy man-tit....
The best week of the year has just ended. Halloween, Dia de los Muertos, Mischief Night, Lewes Night- all in one week!
I love this week as this is the only time in the year where I can just take a shower, put on some decent clothes, make an effort to clean my clogged pores, and brush my teeth and show up at a party and win best scary costume hands down!
Kids come to me to poke my face before exclaiming Wow! It so realistic! Very creepy!
On any other day, I'm always on the run from bounty hunters looking for the missing link.
I was drinking coffee at that hip bar Raoul's when this man from special effects company Industrial Light and Magic came up to me. He wanted to have his team take laser measurements of my face and incorporate it into animation software for the new horror flick they were doing. Well, at least someone finds me precioussssssss.
I have always pleaded with my beautiful parents to come out and admit that I was adopted or that maybe I was switched during childbirth and we should sue Notre Dame where I was born for millions. It's the least I could do for the pain and embarassment they had to endure raising me.
There are 3 billion base pairs in the human genome and I got all the fugly genes. Even the genes the Neanderthals didn't want ended up with me. I can't run fast, got oily skin, stubby fingers, small penis, zits, a hairy ass crack, poor vision...etc...
There are only a few surefire ways for ugly people to get laid - be a rock star or be a bestselling writer/columnist/poet. I am neither.
Or one can be a comedian. It's been shown that plain-looking men who have a wacky sense of humour are attractive to women. If I work hard enough I guess I could be a stand-up comedian. Yet, it's hard to find the funny side of life everytime I look at myself in the mirror every morning.
Paradoxically, fugly people are the ones who take the most time looking at themselves in the mirror. This is not anecdotal, all my ugly acquaintances (mga panget, you know yourselves) like to look at themselves in the mirror. They even have screensavers of their close-up pictures.
I do admire their optimism. They moisturise, comb their hair, put eau de too much parfums, and make sure their collars are starched. Yet, if I were to be very honest - their optimism is like spraying perfume on your shit after a night out eating kebab.
Paradoxically, fugly people are also the keenest fashionistas. They go to hairstylists that charge $100 for a trim that a blind man could do and spend a third of their wages on so-called seasonal designer outfits. What's the point of an Orc wearing Hugo Boss? At the end of the frigging day, he is still a frigging Orc! Designers should just refuse to sell their goods to fugly people. I was at the flagship Louis Vuitton store at Champs Elysees recently and I saw a long line of ugly Filipino politicians wives. Suddenly, I didn't feel bad that they were spending taxpayers' money on luxury goods for as long as they wear the bags over their heads. They were caked-up and their lipsticks were screaming bright red. (I wanted to ask one of the matrons Titah, sinong nag-make up sa iyo? Si Salvador Dali? In na ba ang surrealism sa Manille?)
I have one advice if you are ugly, take a look at yourself in the mirror and say this "If I choose to bear a child, I will pass my genes to them." Repeat 100 times.
I chose not to bear children not because I think that our generation has not taken good care of mother earth and that global warming has fucked up the ecosystem denying our kids a beautiful future but because I think the bad genes should die with me. Of course my humble opinion won't prevent other fugly people from procreating so I propose to make it illegal for them. Beautify the Philippines - Plant a Tree and Castrate the Ugly.
Incidentally, my new best friend Alexandra who writes for the International Herald Tribune and New York Times (wow, I'm so like name-dropping here...) forwarded me this article on that 80s babe Gretchen Barretto who had this to say about HER OWN DAUGHTER....
'Asked who her daughter Dominique, 11, looks like, Gretchen said, "When people see Dominique, they tell her, ‘Oh my gosh, you look like your dad!’ Naaawa naman ako sa kanya. She should look more like me. But then," she thought aloud, "it’s better that she looks like Tonyboy to put a stop to the rumor that her father is somebody else'
Is it just me, or is she just mean to her daughter?