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Twisted by Jessica Zafra – Pumping irony since 1994
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Archive for the ‘Men’

Got questions for Tom Rodriguez?

July 26, 2013 By: jessicazafra Category: Men, Television 12 Comments →

trillorodriguez
Bert noted that My Husband’s Lover has achieved something Brokeback Mountain didn’t: create a real love team.

The original plan was to do a podcast with Tom Rodriguez and Dennis Trillo. We sent the request to our friends at GMA Network, who said they’d be happy to make arrangements, but scheduling would be problematic. True enough, Tom and Dennis have not had time for a podcast. The producers said the best approach would be for us to hang around during the taping of My Husband’s Lover, and do the interview during the lulls.

Unfortunately we’ve already spent too much time on film sets this year, and the thought of waiting hours and hours for a chance at a 15-minute conversation under less than optimal conditions does not appeal to us. We’ve been interviewing people since high school, our patience for waiting for subjects has expired.

Digression. Can be skipped. [True, when we were doing cover stories for Woman Today magazine back in college, we used the waiting time to read books. We read most of the books on our Comparative Lit syllabus while waiting for Nora Aunor (You need Dostoevski for the wait, though it was worth it), Maricel Soriano (She said, “Is that all you have, the same old questions?”—a valid point because we never read Jingle Extra Hot and other showbiz magazines, being under the delusion that we were writing for Rolling Stone), and Sarsi Emmanuelle (The interview was interrupted by a phone call informing her that her friend Pepsi Paloma had killed herself; she freaked out and had to be sedated). Yeah, we read Ulysses while waiting to interview various actresses whose career would not last until its final page. So these days when we go for an interview we’d like an exact starting time. (We’re not in showbiz, we don’t have to be liked.)]

Then we heard that Tom Rodriguez was a graphic artist and had been to Comic-Con, and it occurred to us that we could interview him via email. Which is not as much fun as a podcast, but better than nothing. We asked the producers and they said it was feasible.

Do you have questions for Tom Rodriguez? Please post them in Comments and we’ll send him the lot next week. These are the questions we have so far, courtesy of our friends Ernie and Bert.

Bert: Mahal mo ba ako?
Ernie: What is the gayest thing about you?
Us: Which comic book character would you like to draw?
Bert: What is the straightest thing about you?
Ernie: How naked have you been in photos and where can we see them?
Bert: If you were gay, which guy would you go for: a. Dennis Trillo, b. Victor Basa, c. Roi Vinzons.

Also, did you know that Chanda Romero, who plays Eric’s mother, had a relationship with Bernardo Bernardo, who is gay? And if you did, did you ask her for tips on how to deal with the situation?

We want your questions!

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Stop the presses! We’ve just realized that we have no idea how straight guys regard My Husband’s Lover. Could our straight guy readers let us know what they think of the show?

Here’s something to look at while we’re up north

May 18, 2012 By: jessicazafra Category: Men, Movies 10 Comments →

We’re going north today to

(a) Pry Jon Snow out of Ygritte’s cold hands.
(b) Tell Robb Stark to come home. Now!
(c) Bitch-slap some sense into Theon Greyjoy.
(d) Hang out with Hodor. Hodor!
(e) Piss off the side of The Wall. Oh right, we don’t have a penis. This is why girls don’t have pissing contests.
(f) Look at crocodiles.

The correct answer is F. Not sure what the internet situation will be like, so we asked Brewhuh to make something for you to look at until we get access.

Are you ready? Here it is.

Our favorite special effect in The Avengers—is not a special effect. Go humans! Thank you, Brewhuh, for your service to humanity.

Don’t drool on your keyboard, you’ll short it out. And don’t stare too long, you’ll get hypnotized. Must…leave…flight…boarding…

How to pick beefcake

March 05, 2012 By: jessicazafra Category: Men, Movies 8 Comments →

Hollywood’s new beefcakes in Slate.

A Guide to Beards

December 15, 2011 By: jessicazafra Category: Men, Re-lay-shun-ships, Sex 3 Comments →


Beginners, in which Christopher Plummer is a gay man who comes out late in life and Ewan MacGregor is his son who has intimacy issues. The dog is brilliant.

A beard is a woman who gets involved with a gay man in order to make him look like a straight man. Like the facial hair she is named after, she conceals something that should be as obvious as the nose on his face, but which he pretends is not there. We will not go into the reasons why he denies that he has a nose, or why he thinks we would believe him despite the evidence of our eyes. That is the stuff of dissertations.

It is not for us to drag him out of his closet if it is a very comfortable walk-in lined with Gucci loafers and Hermes belts. Who knows what roles we would agree to play if we were offered even an empty but very well-made walk-in closet? You know how cramped today’s condos are. Although it is silly for him to go on pretending if the closet has glass doors (“eskaparate” as the filmmaker Joey Reyes put it) and we can see right into it. Our point is that everyone has something to hide, and our existence is not necessarily improved by bringing this out into the cruel light of day.

Read A Guide to Beards in interaksyon.com.

The future President of Russia

December 13, 2011 By: jessicazafra Category: Current Events, Men, Places, Tennis 4 Comments →



Photos from tumblr.

Marat Safin. We’d vote for him.

Sleeping Around With Jon # 1: The morning after the night that wasn’t

October 24, 2011 By: jessicazafra Category: Men, Re-lay-shun-ships 3 Comments →


Chart from I Love Charts

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This is a weekly column by Jon Morales. You can reach him at jonnymo@gmail.com or follow him on twitter @jonnymo. Or just post your violent reactions in Comments.

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11 AM Sunday morning. I’m in my underwear laying on my mat on the floor. There’s a girl sitting next to me, fully clothed. So pretty. She’s asking questions about the future into the air and then looking for the answers by opening to random pages of The Noblest Triumph and reading selected passages out loud to me.

It would only be slightly less weird if The Noblest Triumph was some sort of spiritual text, and not what it is: a book on property rights. Sometimes when she tires of the answers property rights hold for the future she switches to The Mystery of Capital and asks what it thinks. It’s a book on the importance of streamlined business registration procedures and clean land titles to developing economies.

I’m asking my ceiling, How the hell did I end up here? And dear god how can I get her to leave? I gave up on the having sex with her question about an hour ago.

Jay-Z said, ‘Homie straight finish your breakfast’, so that’s what I’m gonna do. Tell you a little bit about myself. I was born with the gift of laughter, and a sense that the world is mad. No, that was Scaramouche. And I don’t know how to Fandango.

She said when I met her and asked her to come home with me, ‘Wait, I have to go do something first, I’ll meet you at your house later.’ Ok, I thought, the shrug-off. I’ve been here long enough, I know the deal. Say yes, then later when you’re safely out of personal contact range say, ‘Oh sorry, actually I can’t come’ via text. Fair enough. But she assures me ‘No, no I promise I’ll meet you at your place I just have to go do this thing in QC.’ I don’t press the issue; she’ll either show or not show. She seems nice enough, sincere enough and so, so pretty. I go on with my night.

630 AM. She’s there. The sunlight is starting to burn. She’s even prettier in the light without makeup on. Thank god, she’s not ‘club hot’. I give myself a pat on the back.

730 AM. My god. She’s mad. She wasn’t like this earlier. Was I just drunk and missed the clues that she was a crazy person? Surely I wasn’t that drunk? It’s so blatantly obvious that I’ve invited a crazy person into my home. Well, she is really pretty.

DEAR BEN. COULD U HELP ME TO WRITE A TRUE STORY OF MY LIFE MIRACLES, ALMOST ALL PEOPLE THEY KNOW AND HERD ABOUT ME. I HAVE SOMETHING TO TEL U. USHOW ME UR CAT. AND I KNOW WAT WIL HAPPEN OF THEM…DONT 4GET MSG. THE MEN IS THE HEAD BUT WOMAN TURNS IT. ITS ME YUNA.

I wake up around 1 pm. She’s busied herself during my nap by sending texts to my friend. Who is a woman. Whose name is not Ben. It’s really hot now, gets unbearable in my place around this time with no air-conditioning, with just the busted looking green fan plugging away. She’s also made a contraption. Isn’t that nice? She’s doing something. I know what that is. Seen it once before.

Well, that explains a hell of a lot. Apparently the ‘thing’ she ‘had to go do’ in QC was ‘drugs’. Sad Face.

PLEASE CALL ME IF U INTERESTED.

MY OFFER I WILL GUARANTY U THAT IF YOU SELL THE MANY STORY TRUE LIFE UR DEPT IS FINISH TO PAY IT.

Meth is a hell of a drug. It doesn’t appear to be a drug for lazy people. Or for those not mechanically inclined. The contraption she has fashioned consists of a half-disassembled lighter, a match, tin foil, and a disassembled ball point pen reassembled to fit their new purpose. I review the last few hours, the prophecies, the diagrams she drew, with the now sadly disassembled ball-point pen, of my name, a crudely drawn map of the Philippines, words, like heart, and love and arrows connecting them, a flow chart of madness, and understand. The story about Ramos and the Department of Agriculture and her family’s chicken farm which may or may not have been seized by a conspiracy involving the highest levels of the Ramos administration (or was he trying to stop the conspiracy?) while no less clear make a lot more sense.

I HAVE MANY TIME TO VIRTUE THAT I CAN DO IT ALLTRUE STORY LIFE OF IMORTAL TORCH, GOD KNOW I KNOW THE WINNING MUCH RACES ABOUT ALL COUNTRY MEN.

She invites me to her multi-level marketing meeting at 5pm. Just around the corner apparently. Tells me to invite ‘BEN’ as well. Tells me a few more prophecies about the country and its imminent downfall. I ask her to leave. She insists that the multi-level marketing will make us rich and the chicken farm will once again be hers. Though what you do with a chicken farm in a country headed for disaster is a little mysterious.

Now’s not really the time for me to demand narrative consistency. I tell her to leave. She says ok. But ‘Next week may pupunta dito. Kukunin ka nila. Huwag mo silang labanan, bubugbugin ka lang. Pero kung di ka lumaban you’ll be ok.’ She leans her lovely, as yet unravaged face in, her highlighted hair curtains around my head as she kisses me softly on the nose, gathers her things and leaves.

It’s me, Yuna.