stUfF tHiNe cRotCh wiTh tHy sWeAty hAnKy

this was me, minutes before isel picke me up. note the hanger at the background:

children, no nasty jokes about me looking like a man...

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i will run off with mercutio at a moment's notice, most possibly the instant he snaps his fingers. i will follow him to the ends of the earth, if need be. i'll carry his tights in one hand and a head shiner in the other.

i don't have the foggiest idea how his face looks like. who the hell cares when that sumptuous back is for mine to feast on? the rest of his body's not chopped liver either.

watch romeo and juliet. i know that it's a tired story of woe, of two juvenile, hormonal, slightly retarded lovers--wait, star-crossed is the word. yes, it's that story about two people whose untimely (but fortunate) demise was caused by employee ineptitude. come on, people. watch the damn play. men in tights! ina feleo in a body suit! men. in. TIGHTS!!!

okay. backtrack, people...

the events leading to the play itself weren't that exceptional.

well, except for the fact that i freaking saw marc freaking abaya!!! (oh god, thank you!!! i promise to do my english paper as soon as im done with this!) yup, marc abaya of kjwan, he whom nikay hates cuz he speaketh bad of coldplay. (forgive the olde english speak. it's a bad case of nexusitis, triggered by billy shakespeare.) he looks cleaner in person. i was staring at him for the longest time, trying to place him. ex? a guy i flirted with? a guy i dumped? wah? haha. marc abaya, ladies and gents. not sure if the spelling's right but that's how ive always spelled it. teka. teka. ang liit niya, pramis. hehe. freaking short. he's hot too... i will pretend that i didn't see him with his girlfriend. cadness, i think. maybe.

so i went to afp camp thingie with isel, her ate and her kuya... said brother was driving. lagi na lang siya ang driver. (reminds me of "kuya" james, haha.) sa gate, inspection by tough military dudes with rusty guns and funny helmets. got me thinking: why is this shakespearean play being shown inside a military base? there's an irony or symbol or whatever literary device there somewhere. but it's 12:30 in the morning and my brain's running low.

lobby, with me teetering on heels (yes, i wore heels and now my feet hate me). my mantra: "i'm someone famous, i'm someone famous." confidence booster. what was it that the great paris hilton said? something about walking as if a tiara was on your head. cool, paris.

met with isel's cuzins... two little, pretty girls. naubusan ako ng english, pramis. damn, i forgot their names. oopsies. they had central orchestra seats. the 1250 ones. we had the 350 peso ones, at the balcony, where even mercutio's biceps are reduced to tiny pinpricks.

guess where we sat? nudge-nudge, wink-wink.

ang galing ni isel. she just told the usher that the kids would need a chaperone and so there we were, central orchestra. wahooo. we were in the fourth row tas walang tao sa harap namin. we were supposed to sit in the third row pero it felt kinda weird to have to look up to juliet's skirts.

the play... (disclaimer: i am not a seasoned critic and one thing ive always hated about school is the criticisms and reviews and summaries of plays, movies, etc. this part will mostly be about the things i noticed sa characters, sa people. i won't make sense. many times, i shall sound like a sex-crazed pundit.)

mercutio is a god. i kiss the creaky floorboards he walks on. his screen name is miguel something and his real name sounds something like yoshel martian. whatever. i learned this from another cousin of isel; said cousin was once "in theater," a tough critic and a friend of mercutio... said cousin also drove us home.

i can't get enough of mercutio. during the interval, isel asked me, "how do you like it so far?"

never having been an eloquent critic, i said, "mercutio's hot."

he is. panties are now wetly sliding to the floor. (shplop!) he's a dancer and an acrobat and a gymnast and he went to combat theater, whatever the fuck that means. (shplop!) god, his voice. jelly knees and stuff like that.

i am making you squirm. forgive me. i am a hormonal sixteen-year-old girl.

yan yuzon. or i think that's romeo's name. anyway, he has to work out, man. work on those love handles! they do not go well with flesh-colored body-briefs. but it's okay. the moment he stepped onstage with his foundation-caked face, i was captivated. his voice's nice too. yeah, i like the lilt in his voice. better, dare i say, than mercutio. hmm. romeo. romeo was okay. yup, yup, yup. romeo was okay. i can't seem to elaborate. he's also hot. that's monumental, love handles notwithstanding.

ina feleo. sometimes, she has an irish accent. i don't know how that's so. ive always has a girl-crush on ina feleo. i realize that that is creepy but eat me if that bothers you. performance-wise... ugh. hate that word. for that alone, i won't elaborate, hihihi.

i don't like benvolio. too pretentious.

paris looks so freaking weak. elvis without the charm.

friar lawrence was weird. the only filipino in verona. waaaah.

and who the hell was that guy with the motorbike?

and where is that fucking angel?! did the reviews get to the producers that they had to scrap that part of the story? come on, people.

nurse was cool.

i shall continue sa next post, which shall go on and on about the love scene, the kisses between romeo and juliet and mercutio's biceps. tata.

(visit this site for more info: www.davidfabros.com/romeo&juliet ... it's written on the posters, eh. haven't visited the site yet. i will, once i post this entry.)