Can you die from a broken heart?

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Do You Eat Oysters?

In preparation for my cousin's Annual Birthday Boat House Bonanza for Boys at Lake Orville, I was in charge of bringing dessert; however, I recently had BBQ oysters this weekend at the Fillmore Jazz Festival in San Francisco and had a change of heart. I was taking an online head count to see how many of us actually eat oysters; surprisingly, not many of us do. Here is an excerpt:

[13:26] majorejulian: do you eat oysters?
[13:26] majorejulian: we bought some at the jazz festival after you guys left
[13:26] majorejulian: i kinda want some for the boat house now
[13:26] Kevin Luis: no i don't
[13:26] Kevin Luis: were they deep fried
[13:40] majorejulian: bah
[13:40] majorejulian: should i buy a whole crate then?
[13:41] Kevin Luis: sheesh
[13:42] Kevin Luis: we can bbq on the boat right?
[13:42] Kevin Luis: i dunno anything about those snot rocks
[13:42] majorejulian: yeah, wasn't there a grill last time
[13:42] majorejulian: betch
[13:42] Kevin Luis: it just looks like u guys are licking loogies out of coral to me
[13:42] majorejulian: snot rocks
[13:42] Kevin Luis: its most digsusting
[13:42] majorejulian: that's disgusting
[13:43] majorejulian: its most disgusting
[13:43] majorejulian: fucking Jane Eyre speak
[13:43] majorejulian: it would be most swell
[13:43] majorejulian: most swell
[13:43] Kevin Luis: it looks like u guys are eatin fresh seagull shit of lava rocks
[13:43] majorejulian: you're fucking gross
[13:44] Kevin Luis: its what it looks like to me
[14:25] majorejulian: wait, so am i bringing oysters?
[14:26] Kevin Luis: i dunno
[14:26] Kevin Luis: axe [expletive]
[14:26] Kevin Luis: does he eat oysters?
[14:26] Kevin Luis: i'm sure the consensus would be yes
[14:26] majorejulian: no, he has eczema
[14:26] majorejulian: i'm not even sure who's going
[14:27] Kevin Luis: everyone but grace and josh
[14:27] Kevin Luis: oh glen and tribal are going to LA that weekend too
[14:27] Kevin Luis: but everyone else
[14:28] Kevin Luis: i think jeff is an oyster eater
[14:28] Kevin Luis: not sure about tj
[14:28] majorejulian: i was an oyster eater once
[14:29] majorejulian: i kinda enjoyed her cumming on my face
[14:29] majorejulian: super piso mojado
[14:29] Kevin Luis: jesus
[14:36] majorejulian: then we broke up cuz she wouldn't give me head
[14:36] majorejulian: SO stupid
[14:36] majorejulian: i complained to my straight friends, and they told me to stop eating her out until she gave me a bj
[14:36] majorejulian: so then she broke up with me
[14:36] majorejulian: what kind of shit is that?
[14:37] Kevin Luis: hahahah....girls
[14:37] majorejulian: girls are like sissy bottoms to me
[14:37] majorejulian: i don't mind them, but in bed, bleh
[14:37] Kevin Luis: u can never win with a female
[14:37] majorejulian: fighting to be on bottom
[14:37] majorejulian: so stupid
[14:37] Kevin Luis: lol
[14:38] majorejulian: i'm SO posting this conversation, btw
[14:44] Kevin Luis: omg

Choose your name wisely.

[13:06] Kevin Luis: polish people have the most fucked up names
[13:11] majorejulian: where the fuck did that come from
[13:12] Kevin Luis: cause i sometimes have to verify data from europe
[13:12] Kevin Luis: and the names are horrible
[13:12] Kevin Luis: esp when i have to check spelling
[13:12] majorejulian: i think indians have the worse
[13:13] majorejulian: kakarapatatak patel
[13:13] Kevin Luis: jesus
[13:13] majorejulian: kakarapa tatak pilipino patel
[13:14] Kevin Luis: SZCZYZ
[13:14] Kevin Luis: wtf kind of name is that
[13:14] Kevin Luis: how do you say that
[13:14] majorejulian: shut the fuck
[13:15] majorejulian: like the exit on the 15 when you're going to vegas
[13:15] majorejulian: zzyzx
[13:16] majorejulian: that's a fucking confirmation code for Southwest Airlines
[13:16] majorejulian: SZC ZYZ
[13:16] majorejulian: zic ziz
[13:16] Kevin Luis: bogdanek
[13:16] majorejulian: fuck you
[13:16] Kevin Luis: bartlomiej
[13:18] Kevin Luis: przbyslaw
[13:18] Kevin Luis: szczesny
[13:18] Kevin Luis: these are all 1st names btw
[13:18] majorejulian: prize by slaw
[13:18] Kevin Luis: the last names are even worse
[13:18] majorejulian: i think they're just frustrated when typing on the keyboard
[13:19] majorejulian: so they just bang their fingers in effigy
[13:19] majorejulian: iousam
[13:19] majorejulian: and whatever comes out is the name of their new born
[13:19] majorejulian: m,egiuu
[13:19] majorejulian: oiqi4wr,mn
[13:19] majorejulian: oiaekmnb
[13:19] majorejulian: fucking comma
[13:20] Kevin Luis: LOL
[13:20] Kevin Luis: poijfsldki
[13:20] majorejulian: uiq4tjkhgz
[13:20] Kevin Luis: kyrioufjkfzzyzyzydjfklayzki
[13:20] majorejulian: nmiduf521340654321asdf
[13:20] Kevin Luis: 4
[13:20] Kevin Luis: LOL stupid
[13:20] majorejulian: ha ha
[13:20] majorejulian: 4
[13:20] majorejulian: you fucker
[13:20] majorejulian: i'm laughing
[13:20] majorejulian: i just had to gasp for air
[13:21] Kevin Luis: so stupid
[13:21] majorejulian: 4
[13:21] majorejulian: ha ha
[13:23] Kevin Luis: it's like the le-a of poland
[13:24] majorejulian: i've put you on a time out btw
[13:24] Kevin Luis: thanks
[13:25] Kevin Luis: i should start spelling with numbers
[13:25] Kevin Luis: and symbols
[13:25] Kevin Luis: it'll be my new thing
[13:26] Kevin Luis: can't think of any though
[13:26] Kevin Luis: it's kinda challenging
[13:26] majorejulian: 111487 19 401112 1781773 11185 5937730 111174 171111183125
[13:26] Kevin Luis: lol not pager
[13:26] majorejulian: 
     [13:26] Michelle Andrews: i'm naming my daughter uzbekistania
     [13:26] Michelle Andrews: so don't talk shit about eastern european languages and names
     [13:26] Michelle Andrews: they tight
     [13:26] Michelle Andrews: like your anus
[13:27] Kevin Luis: jesus
[13:27] Kevin Luis: she SO doesn't know you


[16:39] Kevin Luis: omg there's 7 osha's??
[16:40] majorejulian: i can think of 5
[16:40] majorejulian: maybe 6
[16:40] majorejulian: but not 7
[16:40] Kevin Luis: http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?f=/c/a/2010/01/21/DD0P1BI8O3.DTL
[16:40] Kevin Luis: hates their names btw
[16:41] Kevin Luis: wassana
[16:41] Kevin Luis: and lalita
[16:43] Kevin Luis: omg nuttawat
[16:43] Kevin Luis: i have to move my lips reading this fucking article
[16:45] Kevin Luis: Wassana Korkhieola married Derek Shotiveyaratana
[16:45] majorejulian: are they polish?
[16:45] Kevin Luis: so now she's Wassana Korkhieola Shotiveyaratana
[16:45] Kevin Luis: i fucking hate her
[16:46] majorejulian: fucking first sentence
[16:46] majorejulian: "When sisters Wassana Korkhieola and Lalita Souksamlane needed a name for their Thai restaurant in the Tenderloin..."
[16:46] majorejulian: really
[16:46] majorejulian: a new name for the restaurant?
[16:47] Kevin Luis: "It's easy to say," Souksamlane admits with a laugh.
[16:47] Kevin Luis: meaning SHE can't even pronounce her name
[16:47] majorejulian: it's easy to say... unlike my name
[16:47] Kevin Luis: lol i hate osha
[16:47] Kevin Luis: i'm never eating there again!!
[16:47] Kevin Luis: fuck you Wassana Korkhieola Shotiveyaratana
[16:48] Kevin Luis: Nuttawat Wongpisethkul was a regular at the Geary location - "It was the best in that area," jokes Wongpisethkul - before mustering enough courage to introduce himself to Souksamlane.
[16:48] Kevin Luis: this article is too mats
[16:49] Kevin Luis: omg then he married lalita!!
[16:50] Kevin Luis: so now she's Lalita Souksamlane Wongpisethkul
[16:50] Kevin Luis: I FUCKING HATE THEM
[16:51] majorejulian: Nutta what Wong Prize Thankful
[16:52] Kevin Luis: i can't
[16:53] Kevin Luis: it's beyond my powers
[16:53] Kevin Luis: i just can't
[16:56] Kevin Luis: so yeh 7 osha's huh
[16:56] Kevin Luis: go fig
[16:58] majorejulian: SO couldn't keep up with the names
[16:59] Kevin Luis: i had to make new ones for them in order to read the article
[17:00] Kevin Luis: it's just too mats
[17:02] Kevin Luis: ok time to go

FormSpring Friday's

Wha' Happen'd?

So... you're one of those...

what comes to mind when you think of the theme song to SHE-RA? 

Paramore, paramore, passe turn, pirouette, plie, abaresque turn, fouette, develope, MALAKAYA, SHA BAAM!

What are some of your "deal breakers" when it comes to sex? 

I once walked out on someone with webbed feet...

What imma do wit' all these plates?? 

@kevin ... you're stupid...

what are your fondest memories of Bombahouse? 

It could be a number of memories. 
1. The mysterious hole in the wall in the small the computer room (the one with Ben's high tech computer)... 
2. The impromptu naked photo shoot in the kitchen (Lord knows if that kitchen could talk...)... 
3. Or the any one of the parties (...where G was readily available)... 

And it only took 4 and a half months. =)

Dear Friend:
Today, I am announcing my candidacy for Lieutenant Governor of California.

I didn’t come to this decision easily, but, after a great deal of consultation with my family, constituents and supporters, I believe that the best way for me to serve is by taking all of the many things that are right about California and applying them to fixing what's wrong in Sacramento.  

The issues I fought for when I ran for Governor last year haven’t changed: our state still faces a massive budget crisis, painful unemployment, and rising student fees that threaten the stability and accessibility of our University system.  Too many Californians lack access to quality health care and too many schools are overcrowded and underfunded.

But, despite our challenges, I will always believe in California – the dynamism of its past and the promise of its future.  I’m also convinced that those of us who love this state have both an obligation and the capacity now to reform it and make it better. To do that, we need to embrace a new way of doing things in Sacramento and we need new leaders who are willing to stand up and change state government.

I’m proud that I have the support of Speaker Nancy Pelosi, Senate President Darrell Steinberg, Assembly Speaker John Perez, Sacramento Mayor Kevin Johnson, United Farm Workers co-founder Delores Huerta and California Nurses and teachers and I hope I can count on your support too.

On June 8th I need your vote, but I can’t get there without the resources to share my message of reform with millions of Californians.

Please Click Here To Support My Campaign And Its Vision For California.

Thank you for your support and for standing with me all these years, together we can make California better.

Sincerely,
 
Gavin Newsom

Ode to Kevin 1.0

As of right now, my life has been taken on a new adventure, and I haven't been able to post anything lately.

Mea Culpa.

I have been writing constantly; however, I haven't fine tuned any of them. Here is a list of titles that I've been working on for the past month.

• Fiasco Friday Finally Finishes

• Pet Peeves

• Strike a Pose

• Another DAMN Epiphany; and

• The Adventures of Huckleberry Crackhead

But until then, I just wanted to share my Ode to Kevin 1.0...just because we were bored at work today.

[12:44] majorejulian:  http://sg.answers.yahoo.com/question/index?qid=20071021113419AAYCo66

[12:53] Kevin Luis: how in the fuck
[12:53] Kevin Luis: what part of sandstorm is that supposed to be
[12:53] majorejulian: hello'ing
[12:53] majorejulian: the main part
[12:54] majorejulian: dun dun dun dun dun... ERRR! ... dun dun dun dun dun...
[12:54] Kevin Luis: see!!
[12:54] Kevin Luis: he was missing the 5th dun
[12:54] Kevin Luis: on each line
[12:54] Kevin Luis: its 5 not 4
[12:55] majorejulian: dun dun dun dun dun.. DUN DUN DUN DUN DUN... Dun Dun Dun Dun Dun.. ERRR! dun dun dun dun dun
[12:55] Kevin Luis: jesus
[12:55] majorejulian: then the break down goes
[12:55] majorejulian: dun dun dun dun ERR ERR! dun dun dun dun ERR ERR! 
[12:55] majorejulian: dun dun dun dun ERR ERR! 
[12:55] majorejulian: dun dun dun dun ERR ERR! 
[12:56] majorejulian: dun dun dun ERR ERR .. dun dun dun ERR ERR!
[12:56] Kevin Luis: fuck you
[12:57] majorejulian: you SO can hear it
[12:57] majorejulian: can't you
[12:57] Kevin Luis: i would have used da instead of dun
[12:57] majorejulian: it actually sounds more like derr
[12:57] Kevin Luis: maybe dun at the end 
[12:57] Kevin Luis: yeh
[12:57] majorejulian: der der der der der....
[12:58] majorejulian: DUN! der der der der der
[12:58] majorejulian: actually
[12:58] majorejulian: more like EH!
[12:58] majorejulian: der der der der der...
[12:58] majorejulian: EH! der der der der der
[12:58] majorejulian: EH! EH! der der der der der
[12:58] Kevin Luis: dadadadadurr...DADADADADAdur dur...dadadadadurr
[12:58] Kevin Luis: LOLOL
[12:58] Kevin Luis: omg i have to walk away
[12:58] Kevin Luis: this is stupid
[12:58] majorejulian: i can't stop laughing
[12:59] majorejulian: i'm sweating again
[12:59] Kevin Luis: the last 20 lines of this convo is deaf tard chat


And for reference, we're talking about this song.

You asked for it... formspring.me

If you had to choose between being stuck on an island for the rest of your life with the "vallejo socialite" or being afflicted with forever raving syndrome from getting a flu shot, what form of suicide would you commit in order to avoid either situation?
simple and eloquent... death by Snoo-Snoo

if i was superman and you were lois lane, to what lengths would you go to find out the size of my ... tights?
if i were lois lane, i'd come to the conclusion that all men in tights are fags... yes, even YOU superman... even you.

have you ever taken a bath and stayed in the tub until all the water drained out?
yes, back when mother earth didn't give a fuck about that shit.

Guys or girls?
guys are hoes, girls are sluts; would prefer being around men and women most often.

Any juicy rumors?
besides knowing one of my friends have webbed feet? none thus far.

This one : That one :: Old one : New one

A long time ago, when family was important to me, an Aunt and Uncle of mine just so happened to swindle my Grandmother out of the deed to her own house. Without getting deep into it, time went by and the family had to sell the house to pay off the lawyers' fees. In the end, my Grandmother walks away empty handed and homeless.

A few months pass and we got in contact with one of my cousins, asking him where he lives. The word on the street was they were renting a house near my parents house.

"I can't tell you that," my cousin says shamefully.

We told our cousin whatever drama our parents have with each other, shouldn't be a reason for us to cast judgment on you. God forbid anyone judge me based on the shady things my parents have done... my mom is a bookie for fuck sake.

Which brings me to the ulam of my story: What makes a person measure someone's behavior with one yard stick, then measures another person's behavior with the same yard stick?

the observation
Over the past couple of years of singlehood, I've notice a trend in the behaviors of those around me. Whether we're talking, dating, getting to know each other, putting the fun in friendship, or even just enjoying each others company; there always comes a point where someone is compared to the "proverbial" ex. Either your significant other compares themselves to your "ex" or you are compared to their "ex". I'm pretty sure there are various other outcomes to this equation; however, in my case, it was the 'other' that did the comparing.

the comparison
Again, without getting too deep into it (and also not naming any names), the person I was seeing at the time kept comparing our relationship with that of 9 years. Although our time together was relatively brief --shorter than any of those relationships in the Tigergate scandal-- a substantial amount of time and energy was spent arguing the irrelevance between my relationship with my ex and my current relationship. For that reason alone, I always make it a point to not talk about an ex during the time I'm trying to get to know you.

(btw, if you use the term "Tigergate or Climategate" in the last 72 hours, you should be tarred, feathered, then have your body dragged in the middle of Tianamen Square and given a choice to either be shot or ran over by a tank.)

More recently, a friend of mine and I got into a simple debate about the appropriate length of time it takes to take a decent shower. For those of you who REALLY know me, knows that I like to ensure some type of bathing before, after, and sometimes during anything that involves some kind of high intensity sweating. In this case, (if you don't follow me on Twitter) I haven't taken a shower for 2 days since there was no hot water at my place. You Betcha By Golly Wow I wasn't livin' on the edge during those 48 hours.

Nonetheless, after much humiliation, I decided to give in and say I won't take long showers anymore... when I'm showering over there (in my defense I live alone and no one has ever complained how long my showers take). To be honest, I just wanted to acknowledge his concern and move on; however, catching on to my disinterest in the subject matter, he then says, "See! That's what [expletive] used to do and I HATE that. That's why I know it'll never workout between me and you."

SIDE NOTE:
Before continuing on, I just wanted to clarify the latter part of the quote didn't hurt as much as the former; but in the end, a judgment was made on me based on someone I've never met before. I guess that's what bothered me the most.

the conclusion
After thinking about this for a couple of days, I confronted my friend about his backhanded comment and he ironically pointed to a quote from his ex's Facebook page.

"you will blame a new love for something the old one did"

~From: Friend's Ex's Facebook Page's Facebook Status

Though we are not lovers by any means, the same principle was used to slap me in the face for a 4th time. I guess I'll never understand why, as humans, we do what we do. What is it about our culture why we reference significant things to us based on other things that are not?

If we go on the supposition that we are a reflection of our loved ones, then we support the basic anthropological human expression, "we are attracted to things that remind us of ourselves."

"Separate evolution of the self isn’t as pronounced in homosexual relationships."

~From: Loving the "I" in "we"

I guess what I'm trying to say is whether you're comparing this one to that one, or the old one to the new one; the moment you compare things to other things is the moment you lose significance in all things.

After writing this post I just wanted to put a disclaimer out there that this entry is completely based on just random thoughts and is not meant to hurt, defame, attack, nor ridicule anyone in particular… just random thoughts that are meant to be illustrative based on a few water-cooler conversations, chits and chats while shits and giggles, casual encounters (in the bathroom or otherwise stated), et aliae. And if by chance you feel a deeper connection with the content of this entry, which so happens to feel like guilt, then may the judge and the jury in this case, known as the good Lord, have at it…

Transits: Squares, Trines, and Sextiles

These past couple of years have never been so confusing.

.:Squares:.
After a record-breaking summer of death, a booming housing market, and the best volatile economy EVER; I topped off the charts with my streak in high-quantity/low-quality dating I've ever had. It's like my status has been smacked down by the Hand of God himself, which was the catalyst for my fall down the social ladder.

~The One~
After 9 years of ups and downs, The One makes a professional move to New York only for me to find out that he's been talking to someone else because "the body has needs."

~The Rebound~
Decided to work things out with his ex because the ex had the "It Factor". Ironically, him and his ex were repeat offenders and the "It Factor" became the "Ex Factor" once again.

~The Other One~
Insecure of The One's track record of 9 years, The Other One spent the next year trying to "prove himself" worthy after choosing his ex over me... twice.

~The Ottoman~
Had the suckiest phone service EVER. Apparently his phone calls you while he's fucking someone else.

.:Trines:.
It's been some time since I've discussed my unstable Daffy Duck state of mind on this thing, but that's only because my friends tell me that I'm fucking crazy for putting my business out there. I usually tell them, "it's better to put my business out there instead of putting yours...now go fuck yourselves..."

The truth is I haven't been the same since that incident with Ottoman and in fact that was probably the first time I've ever admitted to it. After weeks of living an unsocial reclusive lifestyle, Panelope convinced me to get my shit together cuz it's about time I need to take care of myself for a change.

“No man is worth your tears, but once you find one that is, he won't make you cry.”

Whatever douche bag came up with that quote is a fucking genius... but you're still a douche bag.

.:Sextiles:.
As if things couldn't get awkward enough with Pukang Kai and I lately. During one of my visits back home she told me she's been in contact with one of her childhood friends from El Salvador. She said during the war his family escaped and moved to Spain where he ended up becoming a doctor of medicine. She said she wants me to meet him when he visits the states over the Holidays.

As always, I'm not paying any attention to Pukangs as she continues to tell me about her friend.

"Wait, where do you want me to take him?" Thinking I was supposed to drive him around site seeing or something...

Pukangs replies, "He's REALLY cute... and the best part... he's gay."

"Oh..."

Awkward silence cloaks the room from any signs of reason or comfort.

Word to the wise: If you're thinking of playing matchmaker for one of your friends... don't.

The One wanted to know why I didn't want to meet the Doctor. It's simple... I'm not interested. And more importantly, I don't think The One has ANY say on what I do with my life anyways.

I told him that since I've spent the last couple of years striking out in relationships, I've decided to use my energy I would've put into a relationship into helping others who can't help themselves.

Below is a link to a session I had with a coworker of mine that moonlights as an astrologer. At the time, I had NO clue what she was talking about, but it all makes sense now; the near future holds Tequila and Puerto Rico.

Major's Moded Story (MMS) of the Day: Listen, Boy

...who the hell do you think you are?

So I was hang'n out with the Ilocanos at 3rd St Promenade this past weekend, and I didn't think anything of this next story until Grace and Glenda were crack'n up at the table. In fact, I'm sure you won't find this funny, unless you're Ilocano of some sort.

For those who have known me since childhood, knows that: 1.) I don't hang out with childhood friends anymore; and 2.) I've spent a majority of my 30-year adult life telling just about every Filipino I encounter that my family breaks the mold when it comes to having a Tita Baby and Tito Boy (i.e., that we don't have any in our family).

(I know... that latter is more exciting than the former, which is why I'll elaborate more on the topic.)

It never fails, I would say 95% of the Filipinos I've meet over the years have talked either succinctly or elaborated in detail about their particular family member(s) who, for whatever reason, want to nickname themselves Baby or Boy. I'm kind of unsure of the origin of the nickname, nor do I care; but one thing is for certain, it came from the Philippines.

For those who don't know what I'm talking about, Babies and Boys are usually those aunts and uncles who spent their 20s and 30s partying it up at night... kinda like the Scene. (x_X) Now, they're usually in their 40s and 50s and never married or they happened to marry wealthy and they became the "Auntie FUNcy" of the group.

I guess I should get to the point of my story.

[Listening to Daydreaming by Jill Scott]

During some time in the later part of June and early July, my dad and I had to attend a funeral for a cousin that recently passed away from pneumonia (may God rest his soul). If I had to describe my dad's side of the family, I'd say that side is very... stoic, probably because of the whole military "thing".

My dad, Jessie, and I arrive at the wake and we stood behind 2 of my uncles --uncle Condring, phonetically pronounced /KOON-dring/ (short for Conrado, I'm sure); and uncle George, the oldest of 7 sons and 2 daughters (and on his 7th wife, as I later found out).

Side note: My mom's side of the family see each other every week. In fact, I'm in a fantasy basketball league with 'dem fools this season; however, my dad's side doesn't see each other much. I'm not sure why. The only time we see each other is if someone passes or if someone get's married. The last time I saw this side of the family was summer of 2000 when my uncle Rudy took us water skiing.

Again... I digress.

As we stood behind my 2 uncles, my dad tells me he's pretty sure his brothers won't recognize him because he hasn't seen them in years. I think they won't recognize him because dad lost all that weight from the colon cancer early last year.

Nonetheless, as my dad taps Condring on the shoulder and says, "Hi Koon." (I dare not pedagogically correct my dad with the derogatory Korean term... he was stationed there.)

Just as my dad suspected, uncle Condring turns, stares, and begins to question, in the politest Ilocano manner, who we are. "Excuse, Sir, do we know you?"

My dad laughs as any militant dad would. Condring turns to George and asks him in Ilocano if he knew who we were. George, pushing 95 years of age, has a hard time seeing us since he can only see 3 feet in front of him (sorta like Kev 1.0 when he smokes out at the Ridge). Realizing George can't see or hear any of this, Condring asks my dad if we were friends with the family. (This is the best family reunion, yet.)

My dad reaches over and puts his hand on my back and introduces me, "This is my youngest son, Major."

An elderly woman gingerly leaps from her seat and says, "I know you! I used to babysit you." It's the biological mother of my cousin Patrick (the one who passed) --her name eludes me at the moment. "You used to come over the house. I used to babysit you."

The next 30 seconds changed my life... FOREVER.

My aunt then looks at Uncle Koon and says, "This is Major, the son of Jesus."

Now, as some of you read this, you're probably pronouncing that last name I threw out there like some Go-Go Boy from Latinboyz.com --aysoos, as in aysoosmariusep. Well, my friend, one can only wish she did. No, she said Jesus... pronounced "Christ our Living Savior".

"This is Jesus, your brother." she says to uncle Koon.

My heart races... "I thought your name is Jessie" I say to my dad.

George notices the excitement unfolding in front of him and inaudibly starts yelling in Ilocano. "Tucka, Tucka, Tucka, Tucka, Tucka..." (that's my best Ilocano impression).

Uncle Koon, then turns to George and explains, "This is Jesus. You know, Boy. This Boy!"

"WAIT WAIT WAIT!" Again, I look at my dad and ask, "You're BOY?!? YOU'RE TITO BOY?"

-----
I have to explain myself as I'm getting HIGH BLOOD as I type this. For those who didn't get any part of the story above, a 30-year old veil of lies has been lifted from my eyes. Not only did I just learn what my dad's real name is; I have been telling people for 30 years we don't have a Tito Boy in our family, when in reality, my dad, Jesus, has been the Tito Boy the whole time. This is probably the most extravagant Major's Moded Story of all time... OF ALL TIME!!!

I dedicate this MMS to Patrick Julian, loving father, son, brother, uncle, and husband. Miss you!

Sad, but respectfully understood.

Dear Friend:

It is with great regret I announce today that I am withdrawing from the race for governor of California. With a young family and responsibilities at city hall, I have found it impossible to commit the time required to complete this effort the way it needs to — and should be — done.

This is not an easy decision. But it is one made with the best intentions for my wife, my daughter, the residents of the city and county of San Francisco, and California Democrats.

When I embarked on this campaign in April, my goal was to engage thousands and thousands of Californians dedicated to reforming our broken system and bringing change to Sacramento.

I would like to thank those supporters, volunteers, and donors who have worked so hard on my behalf. I have been humbled by their support and am indebted to their efforts. They represent the spirit of change and determination essential to putting California back on the right track.

I will continue to fight for change and the causes and issues for which I care deeply — universal health care, a cleaner environment and a green economy for our families, better education for our children, and, of course, equal rights under the law for all citizens.
Sincerely,

Gavin Newsom

 Paid for by Newsom for California Committee - Governor 2010. FPPC #1308175

Major's Moded Story (MMS) of the Day: Guilty Pleasure

Ok... hopfully I can squeeze this one out before I pass out from exhaustion. So a couple of weeks ago it rained... like... hard. In fact it rained so hard you kinda felt like it was Typhoon Ondoy's cousin Pedro who came to visit unannounced; then asks to use the bathroom and pees on the seat.

Just so you have an idea of how hard it rained, the video below is a shot of our balcony at work (that's my friend Meeshi).




Yes... rain water was shooting out from the gutter like a bidet and we were 3 floors up.

Anyways, this MMS is not about Meeshi or the the person who flushed the toilet that backed up the drain; however, this MMS is about Miley Cyrus. That's right... the devil's offspring herself. Her being my guilty pleasure plays an integral part of the story.

I was introduced to this song a few weeks ago at Santa Clara University's Barrio Fiesta. There was a group of little kids --sibling ranging from 8 to 16 years of age-- and they performed this song that day. Amused by their performance I HAD to find out where the song was from.



Catchy, isn't it?

So, I was driving into work that one stormy morning and decided to listen to Elvis's sell-out come back of the Dog House on the new 92.7 KREV (I'm still mad at that, btw). I was about 45 minutes well into my commute passing the exit to City College off the 280 when "Party in the USA" came on. Naturally, I started singing along just before the chorus and the Jay-Z song was on... and the Jay-Z song was on!

GOD I LOVE THAT SONG!

And for the record, I would put my hands up at the time, but I started to hydroplane; as if God reached down and pushed my car into a fishtail frenzy and told me to shut the fuck up! Literally feeling the cool sucked out of me, I turned the radio off and drove the rest of the way to work in silence.

Not like anyone cares, but I wanted to dedicate this entry to Ms. Hannah Montana herself. I couldn't believe it when Kev 1.0 told me she had the H1N1 virus during lunch today. I almost died... not of swine flu though.

Letter to the President

Dear Mr. President,

As serendipitous as this may seem, earlier today my iPod was on shuffle and a familiar track came on I haven't heard in a while, which inspired me to write this letter: Mr. President by Janelle Monae (You might have heard of her since you’re on her youtube channel). I'm writing this letter sitting in my car in the back alley behind the relatively new federal building. Right now I’m watching a homeless man wipe the sweat dripping off his stray dog's sagging teat… No Homo.

Anyways, I’m sure you’ve heard the gamut of reactions from the critiques in response to today’s events; from Anderson Cooper’s twitter to Michael Binyon’s video commentary on Sky News, you MUST be exhausted from all this like being caught up in a porn storm. I imagine it feeling like you're on The Onion, doesn't it? To be honest this came as a shock to me myself. After reading about you on CNN.com I was waiting for the part of the article that reads they were giving away the Nobel Peace Prize on the radio this morning and you were the 10th caller.

A little premature...don't you agree?

I took the liberty of quoting a part of your half-ass'd acceptance speech from this morning, which I'm sure an intern written up.

...the Nobel Peace Prize has not just been used to honor specific achievement; it's also been used as a means to give momentum to a set of causes. And that is why I will accept this award as a call to action...

~Pres. Barack O.

(This coming from a man whose wife let Stevie Wonder trip on stage and left him for dead.)

Ok ok ok... I understand that you were innately saving face and trying to make sense of this nonsense; however, you must admit that the politicos at the redstate have a valid point. If the deadline to turn in nominations for the Nobel Peace Prize was 12 days after you took office, then what the hell was the committee going by? ... I'm gonna need a few words with Mr. Jagland.

Half way convinced this was either an oversight or the biggest Punk'd Ashton Kutcher has pulled off since the conception of the show; I had to look up the rules and regulation on how the Nobel Peace Prize winner is decided before I slit my wrists at work.

...I'll be damned... the homeless guy is staring at his dogs steamy pile of shit.

I found out Alfred Nobel stipulated in his will (1895) that the peace prize should go "to the person who shall have done the most or the best work for fraternity between the nations and the abolition or reduction of standing armies and the formation and spreading of peace congresses."

I guess you have a formidable road ahead of you.

If God created the heavens and the earth in 7 days, I guess winning the Nobel Peace Prize in 12 days isn't so unattainable. You should write a book, "How to win the Nobel Peace Prize by the time your Master Cleanse is over." It'll be the next Oprah's Book Club hit.

So, I suppose a congratulations is in order. Congratulations on the award and thank you. Thank you for not having a false sense of self accomplishment.

Best Regards,

Me

p.s. Someone wanted me to pass on a message:

“YO OBAMA, I’M GONNA LET YOU FINISH, BUT I JUST WANNA SAY THAT MARTIN LUTHER KING JR WAS THE BEST NOBEL PRIZE WINNER OF ALL TIME.”

~Kanye West

U

not so long ago, i discovered a new drug
it's called u
much unlike any other drug
such high potency.
one night, under dim light
it actually consumed me.
Inhaling and exhaling me
it is much to my pleasure
such the great high
i constantly find myself lost in u.
find myself desiring
to be one with u
much the picture of perfection
such the eternal.
make no mistake
it is neither availible to you or your friend
u was created for me
and i,
created for u.
u has made me a fiending bastard
i soar on u across the void
and i become much like the invalid
such the numbness to bullshit
yet everyone can see our value is high
and i am much sure i am in love with the drug
in fact such the addiction major addiction
yes indeed
i love u

Which one are you?

Last night I realized there’s a possibility that I don’t understand the phenomenon of dating. I’ve spent the majority of my 20s in a LTR with a GAM from LA until the LDR moved to NYC after living in SF to become whatever you become when you move there. It's been my experience that after being with someone for 9 years, I expected a stigma attached to myself amongst the Scene which yields one of two things: Rumors and Infidelity.

Listening to: Fiona Apple - Get Gone | When the Pawn Hits the Conflicts He Thinks Like a King...

As weird as it is to be single again, a friend told me I should try being single for now; this, coming from someone whose past 3 relationships was a result of an affair with the previous relationship. By taking his advice, it wasn't but a few months after until someone interesting came along who, unfortunately, made it a point to constantly remind me there was always someone more attractive than myself (yeah, yah know… after typing out that last sentence, WTF was I thinking then?). Needless to say, that “relationship” was in the Fastrak lane to nowhere.

Refusing to admit that my friend was right about being single for the time being, I ended up dating my first Filipino at age 29 in hopes of being with someone that understands me. Without putting too much of someone else’s business out there, it was like yelling at the TV while a Telenovela was on full blast and you’re only experience in Spanish was the 2 years you took in high school and that trip you took to TJ back in 2003. Yeah… it felt like that… and as ironic as it was, I never felt so misunderstood.

So here I am, 3 failed quasi-relationships in a year and a half, which is the status quo in the Scene, apparently.

SIDE NOTE: The Scene is an intrinsically remarkable phenomenon. One’s OG status is not measured by ones age, but measured by what era one came into the Scene. For example, a 28 y/o who has been clubbing since JRs and Faith is more of an OG than a 38 y/o who started clubbing when Trigger opened earlier this year (yes, believe me…there are 38 y/o clubbers out there, but that’s another blog entry).

With that being said, my OG status goes back to when City Nights was The Box and the new Trigger was known as Detour.

So what now? What is it that single people do? With the number of years in the Scene under my belt, I have observed the following patterns with my fellow singles.

WARNING: By no means is this list meant to be exhaustive or exclusive, but illustrative and comprehensive for comedic purposes.

Party & Bullshit
It’s very common for newly single individuals, not limiting to the Scene, to become party activists overnight. This type of individual wants to drink up every night and bring a buddy/wingman for their support. Their choice of environment/battleground is usually whichever venue is playing hip hop that night; subsequently, the night of aggressive/professional drinking usually ends in a fight or throwing up in the wingman’s car. I suggest if the individual has a large circle of friends, is to play round robin with your wingmen, as to not seem desperate. Also, this act usually goes on until they finally get one of their one-night stands preggo or until they start showing symptoms of their newly attributed STD.

The Serial Dater
There are those individuals that we all come to know and love who have made dating an art form. The Serial Dater, not to be confused by The Speed Dater, will date an obscene amount of partners in such a short period of time and may come across as a player or a hoe (whichever makes more comfortable). Usually this person would take the initiative to get to know someone and will genuinely be interested until they find something about that person that falls under their list of “DO NOT DATE PEOPLE WITH¬…” —like webbed feet… not that there’s anything wrong with that.

However so equivocal in the types of people they date, when The Serial Dater finds the perfect match they become a Brigadoon Fag only because their new partner passed many levels of scrutiny… and who would want to lose that?

ANOTHER SIDE NOTE: When I looked up “Serial Dater” on UrbanDictionary.com I also came across “Serial Butt Friend”. I can’t believe there’s a term for that.

YesterGay | Hasbian
Not to discredit the validity of their relationship, but YesterGays and Hasbians, though uncommon, do exist. It’s like finding close parking at the mall during Christmas time.

I’ve seen different levels of significance with YesterGays and Hasbians, whether they marry for papers only or for tax purposes, but a friendship between a YesterGay and a Hasbian is very genuine.

So where does this leave me?

As much as I hate to write about my inner psyche, I guess I can leave you with a quote a wise man once told me in hopes of a coup d’état of consternation when you see me next.

“There are 3 types of people in this world;
• those who make things happen,
• those who saw what happened, and
• those who ask “Wah happened?”
Which one are you?”

(taken from my adam 4 adam page)

Have you forgiven?

It's unfortunate for myself (and the 5 people that follow this blog) that American Pilipino Pedagogy has kicked the "proverbial bucket" (if you will) for the last few months. I'm not sure if it was the dawn of Twitter that took the final "blow" or me being a Brigadoon Fag; however, in both cases I've been neglecting to express my inner thoughts and emotions for all to see… and no one to care.

With that said, I dust off the old defibrillator hoping to jump-start my muse. I need something to get the "creative juices" flowing again; and since none of my juices are flowing as of yet, like a topical comic, I turn to the news.

There seems to be an underlying question of the day, which is covered by the countless numbers of news sites and blogs I follow (yes, I read blogs… don't judge).

"Do you remember?"

Unfortunately, yes… I do.

I flew back to SFO Monday afternoon, Sept 10, 2001 from a long weekend in L.A. I was a super senior on the 5-year plan and needed to meet up with my counselor Tuesday morning. My alarm wakes me up so I grabbed my phone and see 8 miss calls; 1 from my professor and 7 from my ex. I checked my voicemail and my professor says that we have to reschedule because it's "hectic on campus". (bah, I could've had extra sleep). I stumble out of my 7-ft loft bed to get ready for class. I had the intension of calling my ex when I'm fully awake after I hit the shower.
With my eyes sealed shut from rheum I make my way past my brothers room as he says, "We're under attack!" Naturally, I dismiss all dialogue that precedes my morning enema.

As I'm in the middle of my 30-minute shower, I grab my procephalic lufah and continue to punas my nether regions. Like an SF MUNI train… it hit me –"We're under attack?!?" (This would make a good Major's Moded Story (MMS) of the day.)

I finish up the shower and put some clothes on to better situate myself with what happened. By the time I sat and watched the tube, both towers have already fallen. The ticker at the bottom of the screen read "America Under Attack!" For a second, I thought my brother was watching a Steven Seagal movie (who, in my opinion by far, ran out of fame well before 9-11). Even though I slept right through the attacks, there were plenty of replays and fraudulent images from the media to keep me up to speed.

I called my ex and he explains to me that he's been trying to call a dear friend of ours in NYC. He said our friend called early in the morning to tell/warn him that we're being attacked. Still halfway drunk from the night before, my ex hangs up the phone and hasn't heard from him since. Having just returned from LA, I remembered saying to my ex that I should drive down to LA so that we could be together through all this. Dependency was my foible. I spent pretty much the next few days watching the news until it was time to go to bed.

At the time I was a coordinator for one of the Filipino organizations on campus. I get a text the next day saying we have to caucus about what we're going to do as an organization in response to yesterday's events. As most organizations do, we met with our advisor to seek his advice.

He said something I'll never forget, "We must forgive; forgive the victims, forgive the terrorist, even forgive the families of the terrorists."

I must say I really wanted to punch a baby when I heard that. "Shame on you" I thought to myself after hearing what he had to say. "how can you say that given the circumstances?"
However, he articulated further and posed the questions, "What would it take for you to commit such an act?"

"If your family was suffering, wouldn't you do the same?"

"How much suffering would you put up with until you were driven to such extremes?"

To be honest, this made sense. As unpopular of a response as it may be, yes... I started to agree. For whatever reason terrorist do what they do, aside from pulling a jihad to meet x number of virgins in heaven, their actions are understandable... to a certain degree.

This may contradict one of my earlier entries from this year --God forgives; not me!-- however, I guess what we should be asking ourselves is not if we have "forgotten"; but after 8 years, have we "forgiven"?

Only at Walmart

About a month ago I decided I'm in the market for a new mattress; more specifically, the 8" memory foam mattress at Walmart I've been eying for the past year. Never have I been so committed to something so meaningless in my life... but I want it.

It was the day I left work early and did my STD screening. After the screening I decided to call Rayo and see if he wanted to meet up for a bottle of shit's and giggles. Subsequently, we agreed to meet up at Union Landing; there's a Walmart there. As I arrived, I parked next to the tire center to avoid having to deal with parking-lot traffic. I get out my car, closed the door, and armed the alarm. As I was commenting in my head how I need fix the AC in my car because a V-shaped sweat mark is SO attractive... an Impala turns the corner and screeches to a halt in front of me. The guy in car, who I can only describe as a husky Lil' Wayne, says something to me. Still stunned by the Lil’ Wayne’s gold chains and matching grill, I replied with a consternating look, "WHAT?!? Huh?!?" (a most appropriate response, don't you think?)

He reaches for the passenger seat and pulls out a jewelry box, "You wanna buy a Movado watch or a diamond tennis bracelet?"

Oh hell... I just parked and not 10 feet from my car, someone is trying to sell me something that fell off the truck.

“Nah, Brah. I’m straight.”

Unfortunately, after excusing myself from the situation, I find that the mattress was not there. However, the next day I decided to buy the mattress on Walmart.com using their "Site-to-Store" feature and had it shipped to the Walmart in Oakland off of Hegenberger. I figured I'd stay clear of any parking lot entrepreneurs in Union City.

Fast forward to yesterday afternoon:

It takes Walmart.com 3 weeks to complete their 7 to 10-day delivery. Nonetheless, I get the email saying it finally arrived. I printed out my email, checked to see if I have my ID, and was off to Oakland. As I'm humming along Taylor Swift's You Belong With Me, I pull up to the parking lot. I got out my car, closed the door, and armed the alarm. I was feeling a little good about the drive since there was relatively no traffic on 880, possibly due to a holiday weekend. As I turned the corner around my car and head towards the entrance, a lady is standing there with her makeshift cart...she asked me if I wanted to buy tamales. 'Twas apparent to me she made these at home and individually wrapped these in foil. I didn't have any, but I'm sure the tamales were good. She probably would have made a killing at the EatReal Fest at Jack London Square this past weekend.

I believe this warrants a twitter update.

As I'm updating my twitter about running into the Tamale Lady at the Walmart parking lot, I see a sign that reads "Site-to-Store in rear". From the moment I started walking towards the rear, I see every possible Homies character --the one with the wife beater, cut off Dickies, and Cortez’s to the one in the wheel chair-- it was amazing. I'm pretty sure the maker gets his inspiration standing at his/her local Walmart.

I get to the back of the store and the woman working the cash register in the Electronics section notices me. She points me in the right direction towards a blatant sign that reads “Site-to-Store here”. I’m still not sure how I missed the sign; maybe I was drawn back because she reminds me of Whoopi Goldberg from Jumpin Jack Flash (man, I miss that movie).

A few moments pass before someone acknowledges me standing there.

“Sweetie, have you been helped?”

Oh… Emm…. Gee… I couldn’t believe it. What are my chances that Madea was help’n me out at the counter?

I don’t know what it is (and I’ve mentioned this on my twitter), but I’m convinced living in Oakland is like being in a Tyler Perry movie.

Message to a stranger

I must say...

I'm a little ambivalent on how I feel now that I've reached the end of "Call Me Chief." I meant to write you a few nights ago but I've been occupied with the new mattress.

One of my first jobs right out of high school was working at a bookstore at a mall in Daly City. Just like any bookstore or library, all the books were stored together by genre --sci fi with sci fi, fantasy with fantasy, new age with new age. The one section I just h8ted to put away (yes, I used the symbolic "8" to emphasized how much h8te is involved) and 'til this day wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy... was romance series.

A kid out of high school can take only so much of another Fabio's topless picture, embracing a younger woman on a red paperback-bound copy of the new edition to the romance series. Suburban housewives coming into the store every Tuesday evening to pick up a copy.

"Harlequin Star! This is just Harlequin; I'm looking for Harlequin Star!"

Is that right, Ms.? Is Fabio giving it to you better in a book than your husband is in the bedroom?

Danielle Steele needs to stop writing for that matter (give it a 2 month break at least, please!)...but I digress...

In some ways, and I'd hate to admit it, I "almost" understand the psyche of these Daly City suburban housewives. They use Fabio to distract them from the monotony of their every day lives. Not comparing you to Fabio or anything ('cuz you'll always be Billy Zane), but your facetiae has been keeping me in good company; albeit, I'm by myself.

Whether you're ranting about the dynamics of gay and lesbian couples, or analyzing the ambiguity of a street sign, or something simple as expressing how the word "ooooooh" makes you feel; translating what's in your head down on paper is easier said than done... literally.

I'm not even sure where I'm going with this and I'm a little apprehensive to tell you what my initial thoughts were when I first started reading. To be honest after I read you majored in Poli Sci, I was convinced you were a Republican; only because one of my friends turned out to be Republican after we finished our undergrad. Mea Culpa

So even though we're both "coincidentally" not into books, I wanted to pass along an African Proverb my professor quoted a long time ago.

"Everyone in the journey of life is like a book waiting to be read and shared. And at the end of your journey, your quality of life is not measured by monetary or material possessions, but by the size of your library."

~patiently waiting for the next entry... no pressure