Open for Pubic

Puffing and huffing my cig, I was just happy unloading myself in the nearest convenient toilet while flipping through the nearest convenient reading material available. It was the latest edition of a local closeted queer mag called a+ (yeah it’s supposed to be, aha, unisex fashion reviews!). Suddenly page number 33 struck me like a lightning bolt.

The article was simply titled Dolce & Gabbana and its 24th birthday of the brand. What struck me was the little print ad insert in page 33 -which you see here- that would get a hard time in finding any print media to launch the campaign back then in Indonesia.

The campaign itself might be –oh-so-last-year- but it was just interesting how public display of nudity always grabbed your attention faster than anything else that mattered. It was as if they were trying to rival the 2004 G-spot campaign launched by Gucci in its Japanese-inspired collection. As if then the female version found its male (oh, I mean Gay) counterpart in being open for the public.

Did they ever do any market studies on the sales figures after both campaigns were launched? Did they actually boost the new collections? I mean, how on earth did you expect people to wear such skimpy jeans that would practically fall-off your butts (in case you haven’t work that flat-ass of yours)? Are pubes back in style?

Well, ogling these ads wouldn’t hurt us, but to think of 'em: Are we such stupid market? So stupid that we’d buy fashion -done with such provocative campaigns- to make us feel glorious or glamorous or simply sexy just like one of those models? The answer is Yes. But don’t we care about the materials, the styling, the cuttings, and the way those jeans would make our assets (more) well presented? Are you crazy? Who do you think we are? Of course the answer is Yes.

The question then became: to trim or not to trim?

Note:
Don’t forget to visit www.commercialcloset.org for the series of ultra hot D&G ads and many more!

Ouch!

Guys. Imagine that the above picture is representing… you're right, your balls! Ouch. What the hell just happened to male sexuality lately? First it was metro-sexuality and its pack of uber-suave-looking-too-preppy-and-almost-sissified males. And now this? Hold yourself. Or shall I say hold on to your balls? Hot on the topic of “to trim or not to trim”, while doing some research on the subject, below was what I found on the net.

Introducing: Philips-Norelco Bodygroom
(code BG 2020, in stores April 2006).

The company promised these on their specs:
You can shave or trim everywhere (chest, abs, underarms, legs, groin area, back and shoulders) safely. It has different sizes of guide combs to measure the length of the furs you’d want to save. Ultra safe and easy to maintain stainless-steel blades. Included in the box is a cute docking system to charge your dependable new friend here. And hear this… they even come with a “special hanging cord: to hang the Bodygroom in the shower!” Yay.

In hearing this announcement from the company, I wasn’t sure if I shall rejoice or weep as hard as I could. It was just a big turn-off for a minority group of people (such as myself) who’d appreciate their men au-naturale, or at the least, looking manly as MEN as what God intended them to be.

Let’s face it. With the exception of some ghastly back hairs or wild bushy beards (or ingrown ear and nose hairs, eww), do women really care about other furry spots that sprout along our body? Somewhere, they even wrote about the good responses men should get from their spouses and girlfriends.

Frankly, I was really suspicious that Bodygroom was made for gay men of the universe. For you to enjoy those massive pecs without the shadings from your beau’s chest-hairs. For you to lick those naked armpits (or those baby smooth backsides) without the risk of having anything stuck in your teeth. For you who would not be satisfied with anything less than a perfect V-shaped well manicured pubes. I bet some queens were on top of the production chain in creating the product. Even the ads were somewhat made in queer-attention-grabber mode. Prepare to laugh your ass off, to strip the seemingly harmless dude in the terry cloth, just click on the pic below.









So how many of you are on their side? Do we still have any fan of the au-natural men in the house? Shall we just be thankful or dare to trust a product that prints “It can even make your d*&^ looks bigger!” on the cover of the box?

Eulogium Twilight Zone

The last time I went out with her was on Saturday. Last Saturday. To Pasar Baru we went in search of upholstery fabric in one of those Indo-Indian atelier -which was already in operation before the Japanese even stepped on our land pre-WW II. I was looking for some type of imitation cocoa/ oak-brown leather to fit on my refurnished smoking chair. She then ordered some for my mom’s office, and with me she looked through a pile of curtains and beddings in thoughts for her son’s upcoming wedding gifts.

Before leaving the shop, I told her – my mom’s secretary-, “Mrs. M, I don’t think I’ll be around on Tuesday, will you be able to receive the stuffs that I ordered and just keep it in your office and I’ll pick it up later along with the bill?”. Sure she said.

A couple of days later our interior dude asked me about the upholstery materials, which frankly I almost forgot. Then I made the call for Mrs. M’s office. Her assistant, Annick, then answered politely, “Sorry Sir, I think she went to the hospital…”

“Gosh, is somebody ill? Was it Mrs. M’s husband? Or maybe her other family member? Is she okay?” I went on frantically.

Annick continued, “I am not sure at this moment Sir. Because the last news I’ve heard was just that she went home to Semarang to see her hubby and kids to make some final arrangements for the son’s wedding. And supposedly, she is still in Semarang”.

“Okay then, lemme ask Mum, whether or not Mrs. M is okay.”

I let it hang there. Meetings to catch up, supervisions to perform. Guess the same went with Mommy Dearest, the busy woman she is. By Wednesday, I got the fabrics and made some measures to be sent to the interior dude.

Came Thursday, I called another office manager, Mr. W for a totally different matter.

“I’m in the hospital,” said he. “Mrs. M has been rushed to the ICU”

“What? What happened? Is she still unconscious? She’s been there for at least the last two days no?” I asked.

“Sir, she has just been admitted in a couple of hours. Her plane just landed here at 5 PM from Semarang. She was already on the queue taking off from the plane when suddenly she had a seizure and fainted in the aisle.”

“Shit, I hope she’ll be okay soon. Do they have good doctors there?”

How come she’s just been admitted? For I was sure that she was already in the hospital. I asked my self.
Twilight Zone.

-

“Hello, may I speak with Annick?” I called her office again.

“Annick already left for home Sir, can I help you with anything?” said Diandre, Annick’s colleague.

“How come she told me yesterday that Mrs. M was in the hospital when today was the day she just got admitted there?”

“Are you sure Sir?” Diandre asked. “Annick was with me yesterday and today, the entire day for our exhibition in the convention hall!”

“What?”

Twilight Zone.
-

Annick called me almost midnight. “Sir, we spoke on the phone on Tuesday, not Wednesday, but I never told you that Mrs. M was in the hospital”

So who told me?

Twilight Zone.
-

Before I even have the chance to see Mrs. M, mom called me this morning.

“Sorry to inform you son, but Mrs. M passed away this morning at 7.20 AM. COD was heightened glucose level in her blood system causing arterial-blockage to and from her brain”

I was too busy to heed for the warning. Could anything be done even if I did? Still unsure how to answer the very question: How may one go about in acknowledging a warning that came from the Twilight Zone?

Thank you Mrs. M for everything you’ve done to us. Your presence will be dearly missed. May your loved ones and all of us here be given strength to carry on what you’ve left us with and continue with our lives with a new appreciation for life.

Dear Mum Number 2, may your soul rest in peace.

The Model and the Call Gurl

“Nia, fill your eyes… More.. more… okay that’s good!”
Shutter clicks.
Flash. Flash.

“Now, look at that direction. Feel the softness of the fabric.
Perfect… Hold it… Steady…”
Shutter clicks.
Flash. Flash.

Justin Timberlake’s Senorita was blasting at the background.
“I don’t know what I’m thinkin’ about… ”

Watching them at the end of the lounge where the session was held, I almost couldn’t help myself to lend my hands to the artistic team. The make-up was too much, she was pretty already, didn’t need much to cover or emphasize anything. The worst was the color schemes that they put on her. They were the wrong tones to highlight the pretty clothes she was modeling. Arrghh. And the snoots didn’t do any justice on her complexion as well. Oh, I felt like firing the lighting assistant for that.

Oops I forgot. They just rented our space here in City Tang for the session. And it wasn’t for Harper’s Bazaar or Vogue. A major dept. store here needed a backdrop for their upcoming catalog. The price was right, hence the three-hour photo-session.

Came the break. The model started to answer her phone in English (though she might need some fine tuning on her accent here and there). And while she talked, she withdrew her PDA,
“Yes, yes, you may book me for the 17th… Mister, you want the whole week-end? That’s gonna cost you extra lho…”

In a split second I couldn’t help but wonder if there is any other type of booking that she would also handle? Looking at her stature, the clothes that she was wearing after the shoot, the gadgets she was dealing with, I was pretty sure that the word cheap doesn’t rhyme with her name.

What if she was just another fashion model waiting for another photo shoot or runway trick? And what if I was a lustful professional call-girl? What would I do to distinguish my services from the other girls?

1. Regular visits to the gym, the sanite per acqua-s, beauty clinics, cosmetic counters and hair salons are my initial major investments. I’d have to be physically flawless (especially when you’re loose already!)

2. While anonymity rated high in my industry, a discreet database is a must, therefore I might need a reliable PDA/ database system just like hers. “Hmm, sales are down 14% from week-34 compared to last year’s figures…”

3. I would offer member cards for my returning clienteles, “Since this is the fourth time you’ve been with me, would you like to have the “use-me-as-you-wish” membership card? I would put you on top priority in reservations, and as an incentive I would give special discounts or rates on your birthday and religious holidays! Can’t beat that eh?”

4. In the service menu, everything started from US $X,XXX and upward starting from a hand-job, oral fixations, the front or the back service or the all-in-one package, “Of course, kinks will cost you more, depending on the toys and the event”.

5. If anything below $XX,XXX mark in the bank meant that cash is tight, thanks to my dependable PDA, I’d use push marketing strategy such as calling long-time-no see clients in rainy days like this, “Hey according to my database, the last time you’ve used me was about 3 months ago. What are you doing tonite? Wanna have some fun? I’d lit your fantasy on fire… What? You want backdoor action? No prob. Okay… I’ll try to get another girl as well…”

6. On the other end, a pull strategy such as website and Friendster page is a must to get the buzz going. You may even book me for any worldly destination, as long as all my expenses plus the calendar-blocking surcharge (for a minimum of a full-week booking) are paid. And if cash is really really tight, "Congratulation Sir, you are one lucky bastard! After a two-week eBay display, You Sir, happened to be the highest bidder of this bitch!" Oh yes, and there’s a disclosure contract to be signed incase you’re trying to be funny with me

Wait I have a call.

“Vienna? Oh you’re one of the Hapsburgs?… Now Duke, let me see my calendar for the 15th. Oh you old bird, of course I didn’t put my service fees in the website… that would be too tacky dahleng”.

A New Home for an Ungrateful Bastard

Dontcha wish your mansion is HOT like dis? Yeah me too... Hehe...

A part of me still lingered in the old house. It was home to me even if I was only there for three years. Another part of me however, rejoiced the change that all of us had anxiously wait for the last 24 months. Just like an overdue delivery of a baby elephant, finally mon petit chateau was done -though not totally completed internally- and there mi famiglia moved exactly in the middle of May, of course according to the calculations of our dependable Feng-Shui consultant.

The second quarter of this year maybe one of the most hectic seasons that I’d encounter in my life. The detail works on finishing a project, all the final touches -that would leave my personal marks here and there- are apparently exhausting and time consuming to the extreme. No dates, manhunt, holiday, or even any resting period was evident in any of my recent schedules. Imagine that, times three of different projects running at the same time. Oh yea, I forgot, on top of that, don’t I still have to work and wiggle my ass for the future vault of ingots and bullions I would like to build one day?

There was the move and the reopening of an office-branch that I had to handle in City Tang (a.k.a Tangerang). You’d expect problems would arrive complete with en suit fiascos in full swing right there. Life was just great I guess, and I was being cynical. Yet we did it, thanks to our wonderful team in City Tang, we had a chance to reopen (with an all white and pale green Christening event) in late April.

And then came the never-ending completion of le petit chateau. Orders of parts and big pieces of furniture that hadn’t arrived yet, miscalculations of fabrics and window dressings, switches that didn’t turn on, faulty faucets, water leaks here and there, wrong cable installations, and so on. I wonder where is Martha Stewart when I need her the most. Altogether, juggling and being accountable for so many little details almost got the best of me –i.e. declared insanity-. At this point even assistance from Katie Brown is acceptable lah.

While packing only took me one day and one night to crate and box my personal belongings (due to 10% busy schedule, 20% lack of will, and 70% plain laziness), unpacking will be another story. Half of my belongings are now fitted beautifully in their right places, and the other half are still waiting for their right places to arrive from the workshop.

Almost three weeks now. No personalities are showing yet. No photos, decorative items or paintings yet to be hung. Even with all the glam-rock that le petit chateau could offer, I miss the ugly old rented-house. As a final insult, one of my dogs successfully strayed only to be found squirming haplessly two days later in the corner garden of the old house.

What’s wrong with me? Everything seems to be in order, and more so, according to how I wanted them to be. Hope I didn’t make any major mistake as my entire credibility could hang in an inquest by the entire family. For now I can rest a little, except for Rico, the “you were lost and now found again” pet –dog of mine (ahh tres bon, so Amazing Grace, non?), the rest of the gang seemed to be content with everything.

Can one ask, how long did it take for a bluebird to settle and wholly accept the imperfections of his nest?

I didn’t have to wait for long. The next morning, the bluebird chirped on the balcony railings, “Shouldn’t matter as long as you’re with your loving family”.

While perfection is an acquired taste -and it could take some more Cararra marbles, Austrian crystals, Venetian tiles, wallcoverings from Scalamandre, also a huge amount of time, plus a degree of self-assurance and arrogance to develop- humility on the other hand, only required a certain amount of maturity in a new level of holistic gratitude.

Therefore, I would like to use this opportunity to thank You personally for everything.

And this time I really meant it.