Businessworld, Magazine Fail

Sometime last week, Somebody from Business World Philippines emailed me requesting me to answer some interview questions. Due to someone’s catastrophic lapse in judgment, the writer asked me to share my thoughts on drumming up sales in a period of economic slowdown stating that my “stature and authority” qualifies me to answer questions such as these (Obviously, not enough people who write for mainstream publications do their research).

Naturally, I asked her if she was serious and after learning that she was, I committed myself to doing it, even though I might as well write something about “breeding racist birds” given the degree of knowledge I have in the field of Marketing.

I agreed to do it mainly because:

  1. It would give me more exposure, some professional credibility and at the very least, add to the paltry list of press pieces that feature me.
  2. It’s short, meaning I am only required to dish out around 500 words.
  3. I get a kick out of churning out advice on topics I do not know squat about. There’s no better feeling in the world than knowing that I’ve have influenced a significant number of people in a field where I’ve had marginal to no success at all and something where I lack any sort of acceptable acumen in. All of these give me a MAJOR boner.

So, two days after getting the email, I sat down with my Macbook and brewed this little tour de force:
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I hate your…

Bedheads. I’m sure you’ve seen some of these people around. I mean seriously, you know these people were getting their lunch monies bullied out of them up until they were in high school and pretty much shunned by everyone in college.

But, all of a sudden they become the poster boys for Manila’s hip scene because they have this “look at my hair, it looks like I just woke up but guess what? It actually took me two hours to fix my hair. Oh and I am a web designer and I hate everything” haircuts and they wear skinny jeans and expensive sneakers.

Let’s back up a little here: Hasn’t “not trying too hard” always been one of the more important credos of being cool? Have you guys learned NOTHING?

Deodorants. As a man who sweats more than humans are physiologically built for, I am very critical of deodorants. I only use those heavy-duty, high-endurance sports sticks and I’m proud of it.

Let’s stay away from and leave those roll ons for sissies because, I, need the sticky white stuff clogging the pores in my pits and make sure that I’m dry all day long - Just fucking crust it up there like that.

I’ve never really understood roll ons. I have no idea why anyone would wear them and how this shit was given the green light to be marketed in the first place:

Roll on inventor: “I created a new deodorant product! It’s a thick, sticky fluid that when rolled on to an average man’s armpits, will make him feel hot, sweaty and uncomfortable. In addition to that, it isn’t as effective as the stick deodorants we currently have on our product line up, it makes stains on your shirt as soon as you put them on and has you stinking like a shoe after doing 5 minutes worth of anything phsyical. What do you think?”

Company CEO: Do it. And make sure you get Dingdong Dantes to market the shit out of it.

I don’t get it.

Candles, incense, a homosexual and an epiphany (of sorts)

Last night found me with lit candles and incense in my newly-decorated room while reading and drinking some leftover rum I found in the kitchen. Friends, this is what Mike “Fucking” Villar does sometimes to unwind. And really, can you think of better things than cheap liquor, a book, pleasant scents emanating from burning things and the sound of an infant’s acute distress and suffering to alleviate a week’s worth of work-related stress? Exactly.

And yes, I realize that this could be the start of a long, downward spiral into an empty, hedonistic existence. Or maybe I’m just really weird or maybe sexually confused or something. I don’t know.

I also know that, to you, this sounds really fucking weird and trust me, it is. I mean, a 26-year old man locking himself up in his room with candles and incense while reading books and sipping rum is not exactly considered “normal” or even “remotely heterosexual” in most cultures, but I feel relaxed when I do this so fuck off and judge me all you want but ask yourself this question when you do—Did I ever judge you? Even after I accidentally ran into you SM Megamall’s lingerie section sniffing sports bras? Thank you.

Anyway, last night, I ended up reading David Sedaris’ Holidays on ice. Now, David, admittedly, is one of my favorite authors and one of the few openly gay people I genuinely respect. However, upon perusing about twenty pages of Holidays on ice, all the fuss surrounding it wasn’t readily clear to me.

Of course, probably one reason for me not getting it is that my mind was muddled with envy.

As with most “Web” guys, I am envious of and hate everyone who are relatively more successful than I am especially if their success allows them to be famous, write a book, be free of any form of debt or bang attractive women (or in David’s case, men?) left and right.

The book was recommended to me by someone whose literary taste I consider impeccable so I continued reading it anyway.

It was actually a short read (the book only has 144 pages) and I was able to finish the entire thing in under four hours. Surprisingly, towards the middle, I found myself not able to at all times and the other did sorties to alternately pick up the plastic tumbler into which I poured the rum and bring it to my mouth or down my pants to touch my bird and mildly pleasure myself.

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