<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4423304633671509990</id><updated>2011-07-08T00:32:09.278-07:00</updated><title type='text'>HAPPY PETER</title><subtitle type='html'>The happy adventures of Peter</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://peterishappy.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4423304633671509990/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://peterishappy.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Pedro Penduko</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06780443292579448989</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>27</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4423304633671509990.post-6276767952301514250</id><published>2010-01-14T06:51:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-14T07:08:22.535-08:00</updated><title type='text'>WHAT AM I?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yXPy5e-4Xik/S08zLJ7z-CI/AAAAAAAAAHA/5CSv9PlHvC0/s1600-h/hyenakp215.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 260px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yXPy5e-4Xik/S08zLJ7z-CI/AAAAAAAAAHA/5CSv9PlHvC0/s400/hyenakp215.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5426612342743103522" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Hey pare. May tanong ako sa iyo," I told B over the phone after he narrated to me one of his trysts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Shoot tol," he said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"We've known each other for the past 12 years, right?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yeah."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"And it seems, as we grow older, we've both been getting our lovers... well, younger and younger."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Ang tawag dyan tol eh pampalapot ng dugo. Hahahaha..." B chuckled at the other end of the line.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Tangna naman chong. Between you and me, mas malabnaw ang dugo mo no. Singkwenta-tres ka na, at ako eh kwarenta'y dos pa lang," I said in a defensive tone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Hahahaha... pare... huwag mo ring kalimutan. Bebot ang trip ko. Eh ikaw... kelot. Dehins ako nakikipag-espadahan. Hahahaha..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"God man. Even your words... Dated! Hahahaha..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"So ano tanong mo?" B asked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Okay, here's the question. If older women who go for younger guys are called COUGARS, ano naman ang maitatawag mo sa mga older guys going for younger lovers?" I asked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Hmmm... pucha tol. Ayaw ko man aminin pero, sa edad ko and my last girlfriend's 17... I guess, I can be called a D.O.M." B said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Hahahahahahaha!!! Pucha chong!! Dapat may collection ka na ng leather clutch bags at mga Saudi gold! Hahahahaha..." I laughed so heartily I could feel my snot dripping from my nose.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Bumabawi ka ah..." B said. "Eh ano naman tawag sa iyo na kumakana ng mga beinte-uno anyos na mga bagets?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Ewan ko. Ano ba?" I wondered.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A looong pause.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Alam ko na!" B exclaimed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Ano?" I asked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Babagay sa iyo. Hehehehe..." B said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"ANOoooh ngah?!? Pinapa-suspense mo pa eh," I asked growing impatient.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;HYENA&lt;/span&gt;! Hahahahahaha...."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-----------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Am I really that?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fuck....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4423304633671509990-6276767952301514250?l=peterishappy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://peterishappy.blogspot.com/feeds/6276767952301514250/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4423304633671509990&amp;postID=6276767952301514250&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4423304633671509990/posts/default/6276767952301514250'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4423304633671509990/posts/default/6276767952301514250'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://peterishappy.blogspot.com/2010/01/what-am-i.html' title='WHAT AM I?'/><author><name>Pedro Penduko</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06780443292579448989</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yXPy5e-4Xik/S08zLJ7z-CI/AAAAAAAAAHA/5CSv9PlHvC0/s72-c/hyenakp215.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4423304633671509990.post-871908622711193512</id><published>2009-03-23T00:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-23T00:33:46.211-07:00</updated><title type='text'>IMPLEMENTS FOR THE POWER BOTTOM</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yXPy5e-4Xik/Scc7ALFhuzI/AAAAAAAAAG4/4YXlZOb6EWg/s1600-h/powertool.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 387px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yXPy5e-4Xik/Scc7ALFhuzI/AAAAAAAAAG4/4YXlZOb6EWg/s400/powertool.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316282759296170802" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have met and played around with a few "power bottoms" in the past whose sexual appetites are insatiable and sometimes bordering on the macabre.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was this guy, a physicist, who wanted me to insert both my hands up his ass and clap. He says he can fit in a whole 1.5 Coke bottle if he's properly prepared. I didn't doubt him. There was another who, at 26 years of age, has the face of a truly adorable cherub. He teaches kindergarten and draws for kids. But in bed, he likes my toes inserted up his rear end and lets me swirl it around. He says it's ticklish and fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I wonder... is there any power bottom out there who uses power tools... like putting a dildo on the tip of say, a jackhammer? I figure some horny, kinky bottom guy out there has ever thought of doing something like what the couple has done below in this news report.&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Woman Injured in Power Tool Sex Toy Encounter&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By Matthew Stabley&lt;div class="textMedBlack"&gt;NBCWashington.com&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span id="udtD"&gt;updated &lt;span class="time"&gt;10:26 a.m. ET &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="date"&gt;March 16, 2009&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;LEXINGTON PARK, Md. -- Some sexual experimentation landed a southern Maryland woman in a hospital with injuries tough to imagine and even more difficult to forget.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maryland State Police airlifted the 27-year-old woman to Prince George's County Hospital Center early Sunday morning after &lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;she was injured in an incident involving a sex toy attached to a saber saw blade&lt;/span&gt;, TheBayNet.com first reported.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The man who called 911 about the incident admitted attaching the sex toy to the saw and then using the high-powered, homemade device on his partner, according to the St. Mary's County Sheriff's Office.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The saw cut through the plastic toy and wounded the woman, according to TheBayNet.com. The injuries were severe enough for medevac, but the woman was released from the hospital Monday and is recovering from her unusual injuries.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Investigators talked to the woman, who told them she suffered the injuries during a consensual act and that she and her partner were trying something new and no crime was committed, the sheriff's office said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;---------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The crazy, crazy things some people do to their rocks off.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4423304633671509990-871908622711193512?l=peterishappy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://peterishappy.blogspot.com/feeds/871908622711193512/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4423304633671509990&amp;postID=871908622711193512&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4423304633671509990/posts/default/871908622711193512'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4423304633671509990/posts/default/871908622711193512'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://peterishappy.blogspot.com/2009/03/implements-for-power-bottom.html' title='IMPLEMENTS FOR THE POWER BOTTOM'/><author><name>Pedro Penduko</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06780443292579448989</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yXPy5e-4Xik/Scc7ALFhuzI/AAAAAAAAAG4/4YXlZOb6EWg/s72-c/powertool.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4423304633671509990.post-5844222989780214007</id><published>2009-03-21T19:17:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-21T19:32:14.218-07:00</updated><title type='text'>WHAT IF...</title><content type='html'>... on a Sunday morning you find yourself in barong, staring in front of a mirror about to leave for church because you'll be godfather to the child of your ex-lover?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;... you are still reeling from last night's experience when he came to your place to visit you - the future godfather of his first born - and you made wild frantic love with him on your wooden floor?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;... you still hear in your head the words he uttered last night while you're still inside him, both of you panting, sweating and in rapture, the words "I still love you more than I love my wife"?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;... you woke up this morning to the sound of your mobile ringing and on the other end was his wife profusely thanking you for the gift you gave for the christening and that she's glad she has you as her husband's friend, always there, always at hand and always trustworthy?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;... in about an hour you'll be holding his firstborn as the priest will bathe the child's head with the water ushering him to the world of the believing, and you still remember your lover's wife telling you  "You are my child's second father"?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;... today, you debate within you if you're going to send a message to both their phones and say, "I am sorry, I am sick. I can't come"?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Damn this world! Damn this fucking barong!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4423304633671509990-5844222989780214007?l=peterishappy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://peterishappy.blogspot.com/feeds/5844222989780214007/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4423304633671509990&amp;postID=5844222989780214007&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4423304633671509990/posts/default/5844222989780214007'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4423304633671509990/posts/default/5844222989780214007'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://peterishappy.blogspot.com/2009/03/what-if.html' title='WHAT IF...'/><author><name>Pedro Penduko</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06780443292579448989</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4423304633671509990.post-768745179665414063</id><published>2009-01-18T22:28:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-18T22:40:15.656-08:00</updated><title type='text'>MR. POLITICIAN</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Last week I got a surprise call from a politician who's running for a government position in the next national elections. He's the youngest, most handsome politician I have ever come across and luck of luck, I'm working on a project for him. It's something that, well, allows me to sit close to him and, I pray to the high heavens&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; na hindi mahalata na naglalaway ako sa kaguwapuhan niya&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sigh...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was chatting with a close friend of mine online and here's what we talked about.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;_______&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ME&lt;/span&gt; (1/19/2009 9:52:22 AM): ang guwapo niya&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;S&lt;/span&gt; (1/19/2009 9:52:36 AM): oo na&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ME&lt;/span&gt; (1/19/2009 9:53:22 AM): pinipigilan ko sarili ko nung magkaharap kami. kaya siguro ako tawa nang tawa.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;S&lt;/span&gt; (1/19/2009 9:53:35 AM): kilig na kilig ka kamo&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;ME&lt;/span&gt; (1/19/2009 9:53:36 AM): at may kabalbalan pa akong ginawa. well, more like di ko talaga mapigilan&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;S &lt;/span&gt;(1/19/2009 9:53:44 AM): ano?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;ME&lt;/span&gt; (1/19/2009 9:54:11 AM): paano, tinanong ako kung kagagaling ko lang ng gym.&lt;br /&gt;kasi, the whole time eh namumula ako. flushed daw cheeks ko. sabi ko lang "oo, at superheavy sets ako sa workout".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;ME  &lt;/span&gt;(1/19/2009 9:55:21 AM): i guess the whole time eh nagba-blush ako. lalo na nung he had to bend over para ipakita sa aking yung ginawa nung naunang designer at amoy na amoy ko yung pabango niya. dioskooooHhhh, guso ko siyang sunggaban at halikan!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;S&lt;/span&gt; (1/19/2009 9:57:50 AM): eeeewwww&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;ME&lt;/span&gt; (1/19/2009 9:58:19 AM): naku... i swear. kapag naamoy mo batok niya.... manaka-nakang talunin mo rin at halikan.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;S&lt;/span&gt; (1/19/2009 10:00:18 AM): hindi yun&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;S&lt;/span&gt; (1/19/2009 10:00:32 AM): ewww yung thinking na ang laki laki mong tao, may susunggaban kang lalake!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;ME&lt;/span&gt;(1/19/2009 10:00:33 AM): eh ano?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;ME&lt;/span&gt; (1/19/2009 10:00:39 AM): hahahahahahahaha.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;S&lt;/span&gt; (1/19/2009 10:00:46 AM): di ko ma-imagine&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;ME&lt;/span&gt;(1/19/2009 10:00:48 AM): oo nga eh&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;S &lt;/span&gt;(1/19/2009 10:00:59 AM): actually, na-imagine ko pala!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;S &lt;/span&gt;(1/19/2009 10:01:02 AM): so erase erase!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;ME&lt;/span&gt; (1/19/2009 10:01:06 AM): HAHAHAHAHAHHAHA&lt;br /&gt;(1/19/2009 10:02:01 AM): tapos heto pa. lalo syang sexy ngayon&lt;br /&gt;(1/19/2009 10:02:12 AM): naka-t-shirt lang siya at jeans&lt;br /&gt;(1/19/2009 10:02:26 AM): at... ahem... bakat na bakat ang "perlas ng silangan".&lt;br /&gt;(1/19/2009 10:02:58 AM): in this case, since muslim siya, ang kanyang "kris" eh nakasukbit at bakat sa pantalon&lt;br /&gt;(1/19/2009 10:03:20 AM): umiikot at utak ko sa mga naiisip ko habang nag-uusap kami&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;S&lt;/span&gt; (1/19/2009 10:05:53 AM): anobayan...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;S&lt;/span&gt; (1/19/2009 10:06:09 AM): may nagawa ka bang imagine na work while you were talking?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ME&lt;/span&gt;(1/19/2009 10:06:10 AM): HAAAAY&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;S&lt;/span&gt; (1/19/2009 10:06:11 AM): parang wala eh&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;ME&lt;/span&gt; (1/19/2009 10:06:27 AM): hahaha... meron naman. heto't tinatapos ko. and the whole time i am staring at his picture&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;S &lt;/span&gt;(1/19/2009 10:06:51 AM): sana di ka naglaway at nagpunas ng laway habang kausap sha noh&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;ME&lt;/span&gt; (1/19/2009 10:07:19 AM): several times na parang gusto kong dilaan yung batok niya eh&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;S&lt;/span&gt; (1/19/2009 10:07:38 AM): EEEEWWWWWWWWWWWWW...  anobah?!?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;ME&lt;/span&gt; (1/19/2009 10:21:10 AM): haaay&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4423304633671509990-768745179665414063?l=peterishappy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://peterishappy.blogspot.com/feeds/768745179665414063/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4423304633671509990&amp;postID=768745179665414063&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4423304633671509990/posts/default/768745179665414063'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4423304633671509990/posts/default/768745179665414063'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://peterishappy.blogspot.com/2009/01/mr-politician.html' title='MR. POLITICIAN'/><author><name>Pedro Penduko</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06780443292579448989</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4423304633671509990.post-444390560600575085</id><published>2009-01-15T04:20:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-15T04:22:06.795-08:00</updated><title type='text'>THE DYING SWAN-ETTE</title><content type='html'>I wonder how many a gay man has dreamt of doing the Dying Swan in Swan Lake.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/fLcoOgiIL7g&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/fLcoOgiIL7g&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This has got to be the funniest pas de deux I've watched.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4423304633671509990-444390560600575085?l=peterishappy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://peterishappy.blogspot.com/feeds/444390560600575085/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4423304633671509990&amp;postID=444390560600575085&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4423304633671509990/posts/default/444390560600575085'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4423304633671509990/posts/default/444390560600575085'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://peterishappy.blogspot.com/2009/01/dying-swan-ette.html' title='THE DYING SWAN-ETTE'/><author><name>Pedro Penduko</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06780443292579448989</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4423304633671509990.post-9212043574761521542</id><published>2009-01-15T03:09:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-15T03:32:42.063-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A BATH HOUSE, BRAZILIANS AND ME</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;J&lt;/span&gt; asked me to blog about my interesting Monday night at &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Club Bath (CB). &lt;/span&gt;I chose to copy-paste our conversation here instead. I hope &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;J&lt;/span&gt; doesn't mind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;----------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Clear Chat History&lt;br /&gt;2:44pm ME&lt;br /&gt;btw... was at cb yesterday.&lt;br /&gt;este last night&lt;br /&gt;2:44pm J&lt;br /&gt;i usually go mondays din, but i had an early 8am meeting today&lt;br /&gt;so i didn't go. how was the crowd last night?&lt;br /&gt;2:45pm ME&lt;br /&gt;merong braziliano. 2 sila&lt;br /&gt;2:46pm J&lt;br /&gt;PUNYETA! tanginang meeting yan o! hahahaha&lt;br /&gt;(actually, i'm still in my sticky rice queen stage, so i guess ok lang)&lt;br /&gt;2:46pm ME&lt;br /&gt;medyo nakakagulat dahil pamilyar yung isa who does these ramp modelling at madalas sa serendra&lt;br /&gt;2:46pm J&lt;br /&gt;bagay sa iyo yun, sana you hooked up with them, malaki ka for them&lt;br /&gt;marami silang brazilian models ngayon nandidito&lt;br /&gt;2:47pm ME&lt;br /&gt;i know. i did hook up with both&lt;br /&gt;2:47pm J&lt;br /&gt;ANG HABA NG HAIR! hahahaha&lt;br /&gt;2:48pm ME&lt;br /&gt;here's the funny part. (i don't know. siguro tumatanda na rin ako)&lt;br /&gt;the two of them ended up going to my place. we spent the whole time last night drinking and me drawing them&lt;br /&gt;2:50pm ME&lt;br /&gt;oh... before we left... the taller one kinda got pissed off with one short guy dun sa cb na super kinulit yata siya.&lt;br /&gt;2:50pm J&lt;br /&gt;wait, di ba magkasama sila? o they went there seperately?&lt;br /&gt;*separately&lt;br /&gt;2:51pm ME&lt;br /&gt;magkasama sila.&lt;br /&gt;2:51pm J&lt;br /&gt;ah ok. anyway, go on&lt;br /&gt;2:52pm ME&lt;br /&gt;i was observing them the whole time dun sa ibaba. remember where we were sat last time? i was sitting there the whole time. tapos paikot-ikot lang sila.&lt;br /&gt;2:53pm J&lt;br /&gt;ah yung sa may gym&lt;br /&gt;2:53pm ME&lt;br /&gt;korek&lt;br /&gt;yung taller guy - umupo dun sa katabi kong silya. trying to avoid the short, pudgy guy na halatang kulang na lang eh dambahin siya. lol&lt;br /&gt;2:55pm ME&lt;br /&gt;i overheard the short pudgy guy na trying to strike a conversation kay tall guy. eh tinding baluktot ang inggles. sumagot si braziliano, mas baluktot ang inggles. failure to communicate sila. lol&lt;br /&gt;2:56pm J&lt;br /&gt;TEKA?! akala ko magkasama sila, tapos pareho pa silang braziliano&lt;br /&gt;2:56pm ME&lt;br /&gt;since di mag-connect verbally yung si short pudgy pinoy with braziliano&lt;br /&gt;2:56pm J&lt;br /&gt;ay wait! sorry!&lt;br /&gt;got it. the shorter one is pinoy&lt;br /&gt;ah okaaaay... ;-)&lt;br /&gt;2:58pm ME&lt;br /&gt;2 silang braziliano. si tall guy - (i found out na antonio name) at yung kasama nya na ramp model (who incidentally speaks flawless english) eh si Kike. yung tinutukoy ko na short guy eh some pinoy trying to hook up with antonio - the taller brazilian&lt;br /&gt;2:58pm J&lt;br /&gt;kike?! HAHAHAHAHA&lt;br /&gt;2:59pm ME&lt;br /&gt;yeah. short for Enrique. i guess, wala pa ring nagsasabi kay Kike na ang baho ng palayaw niya dito&lt;br /&gt;2:59pm ME&lt;br /&gt;so you ended up drawing them... shet!&lt;br /&gt;kakainggit ka!&lt;br /&gt;haba ng hair mo!&lt;br /&gt;at hindi ka pa nag-share! hahahaha&lt;br /&gt;2:59pm ME&lt;br /&gt;it wasn't really intended na maiuwi ko sila pareho dito&lt;br /&gt;3:00pm J&lt;br /&gt;so sino sa kanila ang bottomesa?&lt;br /&gt;3:01pm ME&lt;br /&gt;ganito yan... to summarize everything. i was watching the two of them the whole time in cb. the only time na naka-interact ko sila while inside CB was when the short pinoy guy was trying so hard to get antonio's number. dehins mainitindihan ni antonio inggles ni pinoy, sumabat na ako at nag-translate para kay pinoy. in the end, antonio and i exchanged some short pleasantires.&lt;br /&gt;3:03pm ME&lt;br /&gt;nung umuwi na ako. kumain muna ako sa chowling at dumating din yung si kike at antonio dun. smile-smile and they joined me at my table (unusually occupied lahat ng mesa kagabi sa chowking) hayun, dun ko na sila naka-kwentuhan&lt;br /&gt;oh, antonio and kike... they're lovers. antonio's the bottom guy.&lt;br /&gt;there... to answer your question&lt;br /&gt;3:04pm J&lt;br /&gt;ahhhhhhh&lt;br /&gt;pero drawing lang?&lt;br /&gt;hindi kayo nag-threeway?&lt;br /&gt;c'mooooooon... ;-)&lt;br /&gt;3:05pm ME&lt;br /&gt;lol, okay i lied. we had a threesome&lt;br /&gt;but it wasn;t really that mind-blowing.&lt;br /&gt;3:05pm J&lt;br /&gt;hahaha&lt;br /&gt;c'mon, DRAWING daw o?!&lt;br /&gt;ULUL! hahahahahaha&lt;br /&gt;ok lang kung hindi mindblowing&lt;br /&gt;3:06pm ME&lt;br /&gt;the real mind-blowing part was they still fucked each other raw and i kept on drawing them the whole time&lt;br /&gt;3:06pm J&lt;br /&gt;i suppose that's exciting for them&lt;br /&gt;someone watching them&lt;br /&gt;3:06pm ME&lt;br /&gt;i suppose so. it was definitely exciting for me. it was actually quite beautiful&lt;br /&gt;3:07pm J&lt;br /&gt;kung dalawang chinoy yun, SHET! I'll be precumming now at just the inggit! hahahaha&lt;br /&gt;3:11pm ME&lt;br /&gt;paano ko ba i-explain. hmmm... they were lovers. i guess they were looking for a third party sa cb. and when they doing it in front of me and i was there drawing them the whole time, i was watching a very private and intimate act. for them, i think ha.... kaya matindi yung sex nila, they weren't just "performing" for a third party, it was also some sort of acknowledgment for them that they "exist as a real couple for somebody else." bakit ko nasabi? kasi nung nasa chowking kami, wala akong ka-ide-idea na mag-jowa sila dahil sa body language nila. they were acting out as best friends in public. nung nasa sex act na sila in front of me.... ibang-iba ang vibes na nila. they were making love.&lt;br /&gt;sorry, ang haba nang isinulat ko&lt;br /&gt;3:12pm J&lt;br /&gt;ahhhh&lt;br /&gt;3:12pm ME&lt;br /&gt;so there. that's my extremely interesting monday night&lt;br /&gt;3:12pm J&lt;br /&gt;feeling ko hindi sila out sa mga fellow brazilians nila ditto or something like that&lt;br /&gt;3:12pm ME&lt;br /&gt;i don't think that they are out&lt;br /&gt;3:12pm J&lt;br /&gt;or they need to act "best friends" in public for their career's sake&lt;br /&gt;3:12pm ME&lt;br /&gt;yes, i believe so. and kike is the more intelligent one. he, apparently, is the one who steers everything.&lt;br /&gt;3:14pm ME&lt;br /&gt;well, in any case, PANALO ka!&lt;br /&gt;i-blog mo na yan!&lt;br /&gt;hahaha&lt;br /&gt;wait, have to go na&lt;br /&gt;may meeting na kami :-)&lt;br /&gt;3:15pm ME&lt;br /&gt;iniisip ko pa nga eh. binubuo ko pa sa utak ko para ka Peter. (hindi ko mai-blog sa legit site ko. syet.)&lt;br /&gt;okay&lt;br /&gt;bye&lt;br /&gt;3:15pm J&lt;br /&gt;bye! :-)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4423304633671509990-9212043574761521542?l=peterishappy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://peterishappy.blogspot.com/feeds/9212043574761521542/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4423304633671509990&amp;postID=9212043574761521542&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4423304633671509990/posts/default/9212043574761521542'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4423304633671509990/posts/default/9212043574761521542'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://peterishappy.blogspot.com/2009/01/bath-house-brazilians-and-me.html' title='A BATH HOUSE, BRAZILIANS AND ME'/><author><name>Pedro Penduko</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06780443292579448989</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4423304633671509990.post-7287044714240561425</id><published>2009-01-10T01:03:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-10T01:07:58.821-08:00</updated><title type='text'>SAD PETER</title><content type='html'>Sad day today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was surfing through the net today and I found photos of the guy I was involved with. And these photos were pretty "revealing" - much too revealing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, I figure he's got a lot of hits for his "hot" photos.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sigh... the things one discovers online.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4423304633671509990-7287044714240561425?l=peterishappy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://peterishappy.blogspot.com/feeds/7287044714240561425/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4423304633671509990&amp;postID=7287044714240561425&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4423304633671509990/posts/default/7287044714240561425'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4423304633671509990/posts/default/7287044714240561425'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://peterishappy.blogspot.com/2009/01/sad-peter.html' title='SAD PETER'/><author><name>Pedro Penduko</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06780443292579448989</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4423304633671509990.post-9047503910973430212</id><published>2009-01-07T16:05:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-07T17:01:15.649-08:00</updated><title type='text'>GAYS FOR PAY</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yXPy5e-4Xik/SWVGyjcxJyI/AAAAAAAAAGE/RD7pBLCG2ZQ/s1600-h/gay-for-pay.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 230px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yXPy5e-4Xik/SWVGyjcxJyI/AAAAAAAAAGE/RD7pBLCG2ZQ/s400/gay-for-pay.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5288711171739821858" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Hey Bob. Would you hire another gay man for sex? Even if they have really hot bodies?" I asked Bobby as he slumped down on his newly installed B&amp;amp;B Italia sofa.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"WHY for the love of God would I pay another gay guy to have sex with? &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Ano akala mo sa akin? &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Cannibal&lt;/span&gt;??!"&lt;/span&gt;, he exclaimed with a flurry of hand twirlings and his eyebrows shooting up to the ceiling. "Teka, bakit mo naman naitanong yan, aber?" he asked as he stood up to wipe off some dust from his Lalique crystal ballerina set in front of one of his numerous black and gold Arturo Luz paintings from the 70's that had those squiggly lines forming the shape of men on unicyles.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well, I am looking at the pictures of this guy in your account at guys4men.com. Says here, he's for hire for an enormous amount, a top, doesn't suck and... well, I've seen him around. He's some &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Muscle Mary*&lt;/span&gt; prancing about in the malls," I said as I was surfing online using his MacBook Air. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(If I've got the money I'd buy one of these babies. I wonder if Bob will give one to me for my birthday. Hmm...)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Lemme see," I heard Bob's voice behind as he stood there with his black pearlized reading glass with the big Armani logo on the ear band. "Hellooooo.... THAT GUY?!?! " he shrieked, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"Eh sa litrato pa lang niya eh mas kumekendeng pa sa akin. &lt;/span&gt;He looks like that Henry guy who owns Government and calls himself "Mother". Machong bading. Hmph! Ilusyonda. &lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;KALOKAH!&lt;/span&gt;"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well, would you hire him?" I asked him again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I would rather pay the same amount for a one-night-stand with &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Tikboy**&lt;/span&gt;. At least sigurado pa akong LALAKE ang makukuha ko," he said as walked towards the kitchen to have Magda prepare lunch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;How about you? Would you pay for a night with the guy above?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;______&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:85%;" &gt;*M&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;uscle Mary (or Gym Bunnies) =&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;font-size:85%;" &gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;muscular gay men who are often found at gyms. One thing interesting about gym bunnies/muscle maries is that with all that bulk and muscles they're also quite effeminate.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:85%;" &gt;*&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Tikboy =&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;font-size:85%;" &gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;the short, pudgy, troll-like gardener of Bob's ostentatiously rich neighbor&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:100%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;. The whole house, which has a gold-encrusted second floor terrace, is surrounded by a tall, all-weather, clear transparent, glass fence. I guess that's the best way not to block the view of how splendid the house is at the corner of Anahaw in F***** P***. Bob calls it the "smuggler's house".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*****&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;I wonder if Bobby would still let me into his house if I got this "cutee" for him. Hehehehe.... ahem, peace.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yXPy5e-4Xik/SWVOriU8mtI/AAAAAAAAAGM/_bx6ouY5P4g/s1600-h/HMMMM+3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yXPy5e-4Xik/SWVOriU8mtI/AAAAAAAAAGM/_bx6ouY5P4g/s400/HMMMM+3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5288719847272520402" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4423304633671509990-9047503910973430212?l=peterishappy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://peterishappy.blogspot.com/feeds/9047503910973430212/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4423304633671509990&amp;postID=9047503910973430212&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4423304633671509990/posts/default/9047503910973430212'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4423304633671509990/posts/default/9047503910973430212'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://peterishappy.blogspot.com/2009/01/gays-for-pay.html' title='GAYS FOR PAY'/><author><name>Pedro Penduko</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06780443292579448989</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yXPy5e-4Xik/SWVGyjcxJyI/AAAAAAAAAGE/RD7pBLCG2ZQ/s72-c/gay-for-pay.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4423304633671509990.post-2342689821701086695</id><published>2009-01-03T20:48:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-03T23:17:07.475-08:00</updated><title type='text'>FIND ME CUTE</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;What is cute?&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;According to American Heritage Dictionary, the word "cute" is defined as:&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Delightfully pretty or dainty&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;- Obviously contrived to charm; or is precious&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;In my dictionary, methinks the word simply means: attractive and would leave you with that little smile or sparkle in your eyes when you see him or her pass by. For an eagle-eyed gay man, this could also mean yummy-licious or delectably handsome.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-----&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sitting one afternoon on those cushioned sofas several months ago outside of Seattle's Best coffee shop at Greenbelt, Juan and I realized it's the perfect spot to find 'cuties'. We weren't disappointed. From then on it became a habit for both of us to spend lazy days there and rate the cute ones that pass by.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Amazingly too, that narrow  passageway between the coffee shop's door and the sofas across it, there passed several individuals (and I just found out this morning while surfing) who also have online pictures which we deemed "cute". And today being the first Sunday of the year and just doing nothing, I decided to search some of them. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(Note: talagang walang magawa.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here they are the ones that stood out and I remember having seen there:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yXPy5e-4Xik/SWBMlP7qh_I/AAAAAAAAAEc/lER4fZRZ7Ug/s1600-h/danny.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 201px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yXPy5e-4Xik/SWBMlP7qh_I/AAAAAAAAAEc/lER4fZRZ7Ug/s400/danny.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5287310165348616178" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yXPy5e-4Xik/SWBMy5fvbVI/AAAAAAAAAEk/9JX2UCO_mn4/s1600-h/cute1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 205px; height: 205px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yXPy5e-4Xik/SWBMy5fvbVI/AAAAAAAAAEk/9JX2UCO_mn4/s400/cute1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5287310399844085074" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;danny-boy... guys4men.com&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;I saw him several times not just passing there but in another place (trinoma? moa?). I figure he could be a La Salle or Atenean kid, but who cares? He's got that precious and devilishly pixie smile that makes you wanna hug him. Oh and he smells nice too. I got a whiff of that fruity cologne he had on when he passed by.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yXPy5e-4Xik/SWBOeUI-htI/AAAAAAAAAE0/cq8YCVa_DOY/s1600-h/SLYTHERINE-2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 153px; height: 244px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yXPy5e-4Xik/SWBOeUI-htI/AAAAAAAAAE0/cq8YCVa_DOY/s400/SLYTHERINE-2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5287312245242365650" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yXPy5e-4Xik/SWBOKgYeZ3I/AAAAAAAAAEs/663rmrVF8F0/s1600-h/SLYTHERINE-1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 182px; height: 243px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yXPy5e-4Xik/SWBOKgYeZ3I/AAAAAAAAAEs/663rmrVF8F0/s400/SLYTHERINE-1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5287311904931211122" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;slytheri&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;n&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;e.... guys4men.com&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This guy shouldn't walk the streets or he'll cause traffic. Saw him wearing a Convergys strapped i.d., I figure he's a call center person. Pretty gay when he chitchatted with his companion, BUT HECK. Who gives a fiddler's fuck? The indios beside him looked like his &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;alalays&lt;/span&gt;. I was resisting giving out a cat call when he sashayed by. Isn't God so nice? :-)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yXPy5e-4Xik/SWBRIg67DaI/AAAAAAAAAE8/FALWsAUK2W4/s1600-h/cute4.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 161px; height: 121px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yXPy5e-4Xik/SWBRIg67DaI/AAAAAAAAAE8/FALWsAUK2W4/s400/cute4.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5287315169250839970" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yXPy5e-4Xik/SWBRruzJrqI/AAAAAAAAAFE/sE5MpkQTVyg/s1600-h/lacquidao.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 164px; height: 123px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yXPy5e-4Xik/SWBRruzJrqI/AAAAAAAAAFE/sE5MpkQTVyg/s400/lacquidao.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5287315774271762082" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;laqcuidao&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;.... guys4men.com&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"He's got a cute ass," Juan said. We first remarked on this guy with his back to us as he was texting.&lt;br /&gt;"Hmm, yeah. the butt of a security guard. Look at how it curves on those jeans. Yummy," I answered.&lt;br /&gt;Then this guy turned and we saw his face. Juan and I just looked at each other with big smiles.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yXPy5e-4Xik/SWBThJ3AtZI/AAAAAAAAAFM/ycUjgUTUz4E/s1600-h/leebogue.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 221px; height: 368px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yXPy5e-4Xik/SWBThJ3AtZI/AAAAAAAAAFM/ycUjgUTUz4E/s400/leebogue.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5287317791580403090" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;leebogue&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;.... guys4men.com&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"But he's so... tiny!" Juan exclaimed. He looks like a "mini me" of that Marvin Agustin actor!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"He's what is called a 'pocket gay' companion," said I, "short, convenient and easily transportable for those days you don't require big baggages." We laughed when the cute 5'3" (5'4") cutee passed by.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I could put a ribbon on this guy and enter him in "Small But Beautiful" competition.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yXPy5e-4Xik/SWBV0DBLavI/AAAAAAAAAFU/2zitXQgKoHs/s1600-h/roadster-1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 123px; height: 183px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yXPy5e-4Xik/SWBV0DBLavI/AAAAAAAAAFU/2zitXQgKoHs/s400/roadster-1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5287320315184769778" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yXPy5e-4Xik/SWBW94-gP2I/AAAAAAAAAFc/QnCSdxqF118/s1600-h/roadster-2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 123px; height: 184px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yXPy5e-4Xik/SWBW94-gP2I/AAAAAAAAAFc/QnCSdxqF118/s400/roadster-2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5287321583799517026" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yXPy5e-4Xik/SWBXhtUL0HI/AAAAAAAAAFk/UHyPeH8mzKw/s1600-h/roadster-3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 251px; height: 248px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yXPy5e-4Xik/SWBXhtUL0HI/AAAAAAAAAFk/UHyPeH8mzKw/s400/roadster-3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5287322199144517746" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;roadster&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;.... guys4men.com&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"He was cute before," I told Juan.&lt;br /&gt;"I don't think he qualifies as cute now," he said.&lt;br /&gt;"I would agree. He now looks like Marco Sison. I never liked that singer's songs. They sound like a can opener grating against tin," I agreed with Juan. "But I'd still put him as cute...&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; before&lt;/span&gt;."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I wonder. Para sa inyo, sino ang cute?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4423304633671509990-2342689821701086695?l=peterishappy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://peterishappy.blogspot.com/feeds/2342689821701086695/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4423304633671509990&amp;postID=2342689821701086695&amp;isPopup=true' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4423304633671509990/posts/default/2342689821701086695'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4423304633671509990/posts/default/2342689821701086695'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://peterishappy.blogspot.com/2009/01/what-is-cute-according-to-american.html' title='FIND ME CUTE'/><author><name>Pedro Penduko</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06780443292579448989</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yXPy5e-4Xik/SWBMlP7qh_I/AAAAAAAAAEc/lER4fZRZ7Ug/s72-c/danny.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4423304633671509990.post-5024214308541371319</id><published>2009-01-01T21:55:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-05T17:06:24.044-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A MASSAGE AND FRYING EGGS</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yXPy5e-4Xik/SV2vxHzGipI/AAAAAAAAAD8/9nLAFXtjyPk/s1600-h/PIC-3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 248px; height: 332px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yXPy5e-4Xik/SV2vxHzGipI/AAAAAAAAAD8/9nLAFXtjyPk/s400/PIC-3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5286574796044667538" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yXPy5e-4Xik/SV2vRSCKhxI/AAAAAAAAAD0/5mYO-DoPXx0/s1600-h/PIC-1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 299px; height: 225px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yXPy5e-4Xik/SV2vRSCKhxI/AAAAAAAAAD0/5mYO-DoPXx0/s400/PIC-1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5286574249036384018" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I spent the first evening  of a new year with some guy I picked out (or who picked me) from the internet. He's a call center agent moonlighting as a masseur.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Great body. Great smile. Okay sex partner. All for 700 pesos. A bargain? Maybe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I asked him if he's ever met some whacko while he moonlights. He answered yes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I asked what if a "client" asks him for sex and he's not really into that guy, what does he say? "I simply refuse and flatly say no. I was even offered more to have sex with this ugly guy, but how can I accept if I can't even get my dick hard enough."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We had sex. I fucked him but I wasn't really up to it myself. We ended up doing mutual j.o.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I cooked him some eggs and HE had dinner.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then he left. Oh, he even left his dime-a-dozen dogtag necklace at my place. He says it's his favorite and he'll come back for it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I figured, I could have just spent the money buying a book and actually learning from what I've read and increased the number of neurons in my brain, instead of a one-night hump of a bad massage.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, and... happy new year.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4423304633671509990-5024214308541371319?l=peterishappy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://peterishappy.blogspot.com/feeds/5024214308541371319/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4423304633671509990&amp;postID=5024214308541371319&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4423304633671509990/posts/default/5024214308541371319'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4423304633671509990/posts/default/5024214308541371319'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://peterishappy.blogspot.com/2009/01/massage-and-frying-eggs.html' title='A MASSAGE AND FRYING EGGS'/><author><name>Pedro Penduko</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06780443292579448989</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yXPy5e-4Xik/SV2vxHzGipI/AAAAAAAAAD8/9nLAFXtjyPk/s72-c/PIC-3.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4423304633671509990.post-2227996659194199245</id><published>2008-07-09T18:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-09T18:25:14.749-07:00</updated><title type='text'>COLORFUL PETER</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_yXPy5e-4Xik/SHVkRJEZ48I/AAAAAAAAADM/W7p7WRL3NEA/s1600-h/DSC00765.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_yXPy5e-4Xik/SHVkRJEZ48I/AAAAAAAAADM/W7p7WRL3NEA/s400/DSC00765.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5221189588660904898" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_yXPy5e-4Xik/SHVj1JkUfYI/AAAAAAAAADE/GPleDOMK4eI/s1600-h/DSC00769.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_yXPy5e-4Xik/SHVj1JkUfYI/AAAAAAAAADE/GPleDOMK4eI/s400/DSC00769.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5221189107758431618" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some people get their kicks from doing some things that are a bit different from the usual when it comes to sex. Some use food. Some use ice cubes and candles. I even know of someone who likes to have his dog lick him all over to make him cum.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But this guy, he got off from having his weenie painted. I eventually painted a big butterfly on his torso and did his weenie as the head. The annoying part was, he came thrice!, it ruined the paint. I had to repaint his weenie three times.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4423304633671509990-2227996659194199245?l=peterishappy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://peterishappy.blogspot.com/feeds/2227996659194199245/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4423304633671509990&amp;postID=2227996659194199245&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4423304633671509990/posts/default/2227996659194199245'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4423304633671509990/posts/default/2227996659194199245'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://peterishappy.blogspot.com/2008/07/colorful-peter.html' title='COLORFUL PETER'/><author><name>Pedro Penduko</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06780443292579448989</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_yXPy5e-4Xik/SHVkRJEZ48I/AAAAAAAAADM/W7p7WRL3NEA/s72-c/DSC00765.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4423304633671509990.post-7215290946436788407</id><published>2008-07-08T14:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-08T14:29:25.946-07:00</updated><title type='text'>FROM ONE MONSTER TO ANOTHER</title><content type='html'>Hmmmm... hindi yata kaya ng powers ko ito!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mapanood nga.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/u7tNmnC7hig&amp;hl=en"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/u7tNmnC7hig&amp;hl=en" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4423304633671509990-7215290946436788407?l=peterishappy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://peterishappy.blogspot.com/feeds/7215290946436788407/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4423304633671509990&amp;postID=7215290946436788407&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4423304633671509990/posts/default/7215290946436788407'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4423304633671509990/posts/default/7215290946436788407'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://peterishappy.blogspot.com/2008/07/from-one-monster-to-another.html' title='FROM ONE MONSTER TO ANOTHER'/><author><name>Pedro Penduko</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06780443292579448989</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4423304633671509990.post-4412646814915059680</id><published>2008-07-06T08:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-06T08:07:34.488-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I FEEL SAD</title><content type='html'>It's been several days now and strangely, I feel so depressed. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even this cartoon video of Madonna only elicited a smile when I'd normally be guffawing by now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Siiiiigh...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/-QDPcexo-Ls&amp;hl=en"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/-QDPcexo-Ls&amp;hl=en" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4423304633671509990-4412646814915059680?l=peterishappy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://peterishappy.blogspot.com/feeds/4412646814915059680/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4423304633671509990&amp;postID=4412646814915059680&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4423304633671509990/posts/default/4412646814915059680'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4423304633671509990/posts/default/4412646814915059680'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://peterishappy.blogspot.com/2008/07/i-feel-sad.html' title='I FEEL SAD'/><author><name>Pedro Penduko</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06780443292579448989</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4423304633671509990.post-3871295752681598604</id><published>2008-07-05T21:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-05T22:00:26.757-07:00</updated><title type='text'>SEND IN THE CLOWNS</title><content type='html'>&lt;object height="344" width="425"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/nmDwlNHturU&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/nmDwlNHturU&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" height="344" width="425"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I flirted with danger, like a deer that gazed at the round lights of an incoming truck along a dark highway, I knew the looming disaster was bound to come but I didn't move from where I was standing. &lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;      &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;That’s what it was like to be involved with a married man.&lt;/p&gt;                &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;He says before he knew me, he was one of those faceless shadows hovering in half empty stalls of some dank men’s toilet in some unknown double-featured cinema downtown.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;He says before he knew me, he was a lost soul yearning rest after a day’s labor. I saw him once a week. I gave him pleasure.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;He says before he knew me, he’s never used his real first name when meeting another in some dark motel room and never seeing each other again once their thirst was quenched. I made up a name for him when I thought his real one sounded awkward.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;He says before he knew me, he’s never known the real affection of another man that held him as tightly like I did. He would fall asleep every time in my embrace.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;He says before he knew me, he never thought he’d never find rescue. With me, he was saved.&lt;/p&gt;                &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;He says before he knew me, he thought his family was he only thing that mattered. I mattered more.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;But after a year, when the looming headlights hit me, I found they were all lies. He never needed rescue. When he closed his eyes and I was beside him, the whole world disappeared. When he opened it, he realized what is real. His child was more real, while I was but a moment's fancy.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;He flirted with rescue when he never really needed it. I toyed with the idea of forever being with the only one during those months of ecstasy. &lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;I was so wrong.&lt;/st1:place&gt; I only had hurt and indignation as companions at the end of the affair.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;Years have passed and he’s been long gone. Only the memory of those months stayed. And all this time when I look back, well I thought, my life with him then was so much full of farce. We were like clowns that played a hurtful game in a circus that is life.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4423304633671509990-3871295752681598604?l=peterishappy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://peterishappy.blogspot.com/feeds/3871295752681598604/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4423304633671509990&amp;postID=3871295752681598604&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4423304633671509990/posts/default/3871295752681598604'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4423304633671509990/posts/default/3871295752681598604'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://peterishappy.blogspot.com/2008/07/send-in-clowns.html' title='SEND IN THE CLOWNS'/><author><name>Pedro Penduko</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06780443292579448989</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4423304633671509990.post-8054434354582029273</id><published>2008-07-03T07:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-03T07:45:36.575-07:00</updated><title type='text'>BEING GAY AND IRONIC</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_yXPy5e-4Xik/SGzkkW3S8GI/AAAAAAAAACk/sGhiLNPggUo/s1600-h/781335581_3327299.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_yXPy5e-4Xik/SGzkkW3S8GI/AAAAAAAAACk/sGhiLNPggUo/s400/781335581_3327299.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5218797381479493730" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_yXPy5e-4Xik/SGzlc6y42mI/AAAAAAAAACs/qokYN_VGSI4/s1600-h/457883495_2896101.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_yXPy5e-4Xik/SGzlc6y42mI/AAAAAAAAACs/qokYN_VGSI4/s400/457883495_2896101.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5218798353197357666" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="normtxt"&gt;I found the introduction of this guy in his profile:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"Living in this kind of world seems to be very physical and sexual, its all carnal desires of visually stunning men exhibiting machismo. But everyone gets tired, love and relationship still matter...&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I know where my heart is :-)"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;.... and of course, he places the requisite sexy photo that makes every gay male drool for the next trick.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's ironic to be gay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4423304633671509990-8054434354582029273?l=peterishappy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://peterishappy.blogspot.com/feeds/8054434354582029273/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4423304633671509990&amp;postID=8054434354582029273&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4423304633671509990/posts/default/8054434354582029273'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4423304633671509990/posts/default/8054434354582029273'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://peterishappy.blogspot.com/2008/07/being-gay-and-ironic.html' title='BEING GAY AND IRONIC'/><author><name>Pedro Penduko</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06780443292579448989</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_yXPy5e-4Xik/SGzkkW3S8GI/AAAAAAAAACk/sGhiLNPggUo/s72-c/781335581_3327299.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4423304633671509990.post-3544040745757599049</id><published>2008-06-29T23:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-29T23:28:43.427-07:00</updated><title type='text'>D*CK  FOR TRICK - A DISCOVERY</title><content type='html'>&lt;p style="font-style: italic;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;It can be quite amusing to read about one’s self through the words of another. It becomes more interesting too, to read what the other person thinks of you after you had a short “affair” with him.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I was surfing through blogs and I came across into this one from a Baby Brian. He gave out details in what he wrote that pretty much, well, described me. (I took the liberty of editing what he wrote. There are certain details in his post that would reveal the identity of this writer. I also purposely, did not link him here, for reasons of privacy.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;____________&lt;/p&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;And Baby Brian wrote:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;"Now I remember another guy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He's really a big guy. I found him online and flirted a bit then got his number. Soon we became textmates, I found him very friendly and accommodating despite the impression I have for him based on his photos. He's very pinoy, muscled, skinhead, in fact he can be mistaken as a bouncer or a bodyguard. Yum, yum. text, text.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I became uninterested for awhile. Until I've learned about his real profession. One time when I texted to finally meet him, he told me he's outside to meet a client. What could he be doing in life, pops my thought bubble. Now i'm getting hurnier to finally meet him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My lucky day came. We agreed what time to meet and where. I was very excited. So I fixed myself and headed for P***y along L*******. I took the MRT-LRT route so it's shorter and convenient. On my way, I've been thinking of how to devour this really big chunk of meat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I waited for him at Jollibee, and told me he's on his way. And there he was, a big hunky Pinoy guy. I was dying inside. He asked me to follow him on his studio. We took a small walk along the market. It was such a very busy place. He opened a shop-like apartment and led me to the third floor of the building.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Paintings were all over the place. He was an artist. I was actually shocked when I found out he did a design for my favorite, very wonderful book, and he's a close friend of the painter of the book. My mind was fighting if I should go on with my hurny plans, because I don't know if I would like to leave a bad reputation for him. Since 'our' artist world is just small. What if he'd tell everyone about this dirty trick?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After getting my soft spot, he showed me his package. God, what a big hooded chunk of meat! What the heck, I wouldn't pass a chance like this I told myself. So the thing that supposedly happen, happened. The red leather sofa by the big window, among the buildings outside and the busy people below, was our witness. I sucked the biggest jello of my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'd really like to keep him, because something's common between us and who knows it might develop into something. But he never gave that big interest in me, nor keeping the tie of friendship. Probably because I was so young then. So I let him free.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The world is really small that he designed one of my books. He was there at my book launch but we never even bothered to throw a look at nor say a word at each other. The place was so small, and how uncomfortable it was. This is what I've been avoiding. But what was done has been done.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe some other chance."&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4423304633671509990-3544040745757599049?l=peterishappy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://peterishappy.blogspot.com/feeds/3544040745757599049/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4423304633671509990&amp;postID=3544040745757599049&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4423304633671509990/posts/default/3544040745757599049'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4423304633671509990/posts/default/3544040745757599049'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://peterishappy.blogspot.com/2008/06/dck-for-trick-discovery.html' title='D*CK  FOR TRICK - A DISCOVERY'/><author><name>Pedro Penduko</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06780443292579448989</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4423304633671509990.post-4035091900544728348</id><published>2008-06-22T20:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-22T20:47:24.425-07:00</updated><title type='text'>MEAT BURGERS AND MASTURBATING MOMENTS</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_yXPy5e-4Xik/SF8ZIVA2IoI/AAAAAAAAACc/-pzziB86q6c/s1600-h/MASTURBATE.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5214914524388663938" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_yXPy5e-4Xik/SF8ZIVA2IoI/AAAAAAAAACc/-pzziB86q6c/s400/MASTURBATE.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;“I pleasure myself every now and then whenever I feel horny,” Socorro confided to me while I was digging into my thick and juicy one-pounder hamburger, grilled just the right way here at Brother’s. I particularly like it when the meat’s juices would just simply drip down the corner of my mouth like some barbarian expression of a long-held ritual signifying guttural satisfaction.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;“Oh. Really?” I said.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;“You look as if you’ve never heard or seen a female masturbating,” she was now talking closer to me, her voice lowered to almost a whisper. She was so close to my face that I can see the reflection of my surprised expression on her pupils.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;“I have seen it on porn, yes. I have watched dancing naked women on stage intimating masturbation, but I’ve never heard nor seen any female I know who’s actually doing it,” I admitted to her and still wearing an awed expression. “Besides, I thought you’re still a virgin.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Helloo… I may never have been skewered yet like a roast chicken, but I still am a functioning female with lust in my body,” her eyes narrowed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Do you use, you know, “toys” or do you have one of those fake cocks?” I asked her in a much lowered tone unless I want the newly arrived couple at the next table to hear us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“No, I don’t,” she said, while she took a wedge of her French fries, “So I guess I still am technically a virgin since I never had anything inside me yet.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Okay. Not even your finger??”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Not even that. And don’t ask me if I used a vegetable. Never. None. Nada,” she stressed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Alright, I get the point,” I defended.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And at that point, there was an awkward silence. The couple beside us was chattering, talking about the girl resigning and how her boss wouldn’t sign her papers saying that she’s indispensable to the company. The guy kept on telling her that she shouldn’t for she’s taking a big risk in transferring mid-career.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I chewed my last remaining burger and Socorro just kept on stirring the mayo with another wedge of her fries from the plate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After a few seconds, I broke the silence. “So, how do you… get off?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“You know what?! That’s the problem with you guys – even you gay men. You think women are aliens and that we don’t know how to even jerk off like you do. Well, guess what, we have a clitoris. It’s our version of your cock. I rub it. See? With either of these two fingers. And when I cum, I can actually cum several times, like any other normal woman with a functioning vagina. Satisfied?” with two of her fingers stretched on her raised hand, she hissed at me in an agitated whisper loud enough that the couple at the other table stopped talking and from the corner of my eyes I could see them stealing glances at us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;… and then silence.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“You know what?” I told her, “Some guys like to “finger” too.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Huh?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“The other day I met this guy. He gave me a blowjob,” I told her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“So? What about it? You always get blowjobs anyway,” she asked wiping her fingers of the oil from her finished fries.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Well, while giving me head, he also jerked himself off. And while he was doing all these, I saw him spread his legs and thrust his finger up his butt. He was like multi-tasking. Hmm, come to think of it, he was quite a talented guy,” I thought.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Pretty flexible too I suppose. Don’t worry, once I’ve found my guy, I’ll do that too,” she said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“You mean, suck, fuck and finger? Wow… either you need two hands and a cock or two cocks and a hand. You women have more holes to fill than a guy. You’re wild,” I reminded her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Hahaha, look who’s talking? You’re a huge fucking faggot,” she exclaimed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“And you’re a horny virgin who really needs to be filled,” I told her and we both laughed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then from the corner of my eyes, I saw the couple beside us hurriedly took their bags and quickly left the place. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4423304633671509990-4035091900544728348?l=peterishappy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://peterishappy.blogspot.com/feeds/4035091900544728348/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4423304633671509990&amp;postID=4035091900544728348&amp;isPopup=true' title='11 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4423304633671509990/posts/default/4035091900544728348'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4423304633671509990/posts/default/4035091900544728348'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://peterishappy.blogspot.com/2008/06/meat-burgers-and-masturbating-moments.html' title='MEAT BURGERS AND MASTURBATING MOMENTS'/><author><name>Pedro Penduko</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06780443292579448989</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_yXPy5e-4Xik/SF8ZIVA2IoI/AAAAAAAAACc/-pzziB86q6c/s72-c/MASTURBATE.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>11</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4423304633671509990.post-1364378231196847978</id><published>2008-06-18T22:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-18T22:18:30.903-07:00</updated><title type='text'>TRANNY TOILETS</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_yXPy5e-4Xik/SFnsCRkP4fI/AAAAAAAAACU/CGW-7PClXlg/s1600-h/TRANS+TOILET.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_yXPy5e-4Xik/SFnsCRkP4fI/AAAAAAAAACU/CGW-7PClXlg/s400/TRANS+TOILET.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5213457567477391858" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Thai school gets trans bathroom&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;SUMMARY: More than 200 of the 2,600 students at  &lt;st1:place&gt;&lt;st1:placename&gt;Kampang&lt;/st1:placename&gt;  &lt;st1:placetype&gt;School&lt;/st1:placetype&gt;&lt;/st1:place&gt; in northeastern  &lt;st1:country-region&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;Thailand&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:country-region&gt;  consider themselves transgender, a survey last term found.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;Wed Jun 18, &lt;st1:time hour="18" minute="21"&gt;6:21 PM  ET&lt;/st1:time&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;By Associated Press&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;For teen boys who prefer to dress as girls at one rural high  school in  &lt;st1:country-region&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;Thailand&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:country-region&gt;, taking  a bathroom break no longer means choosing between "male" and "female" restrooms.  There's now a ''transvestite toilet.''&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;The &lt;st1:place&gt;&lt;st1:placename&gt;Kampang&lt;/st1:placename&gt;  &lt;st1:placetype&gt;School&lt;/st1:placetype&gt;&lt;/st1:place&gt; in northeastern  &lt;st1:country-region&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;Thailand&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:country-region&gt;  conducted a survey last term that showed more than 200 of the school's 2,600  students considered themselves transgender, said school director Sitisak  Sumontha.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;So, when classes resumed in May, the school unveiled a unisex  restroom designated by a human figure split in half -- part man in blue and part  woman in red. Below it are the words "Transvestite Toilet."&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Three transgender students praised the new restroom as they  plucked their eyebrows and applied face powder in front of the mirror outside  the stalls.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;"I'm so happy about this," Vichai Sangsakul, a teenager with  a pixie hairdo pulled back with a pink barrette, told  &lt;st1:country-region&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;Thailand&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:country-region&gt;'s PBS  news channel Tuesday. "It looks bad going to female restrooms. What would other  people think?"&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Most rural Thais are conservative in many ways, but the  trailblazing toilet initiative at the school in northeastern Sisaket province  reflects another aspect of Thai society: its tolerance of the country's very  visible transgender community. In  &lt;st1:country-region&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;Thailand&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:country-region&gt;, the  term describes a wide range of identities including cross-dressers,  transvestites, transsexuals and those born with the physical characteristics of  both sexes.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;"These students want to be able to go to the restroom in  peace without fear of being watched, laughed at or groped," said school director  Sitisak Sumontha.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;He said the concept reflected a growing need at Thai schools  and universities.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Kampang is not  &lt;st1:country-region&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;Thailand&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:country-region&gt;'s first  educational institution to set up unisex washrooms, though Sitisak said he  believed it was a first for a secondary school. A 1,500-student technical  college in the &lt;st1:state&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;northern province&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:state&gt;  of Chiang Mai set up a "Pink Lotus Bathroom" for its 15 transvestite students in  2003.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Deputy Education Minister Boonlue Prasertsopar recently said  the ministry plans to count the number of transgender university  students.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;He said he was not promoting transgender interests, "but if  there are a lot of them in a university and it's a problem, we may have to  consider building toilets and dormitories for them."&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Transgender people are regularly seen on TV soap operas and  throughout &lt;st1:city&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;Bangkok&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:city&gt;, working at  department store cosmetics counters, popular restaurants, in office jobs and in  the capital's red-light districts.  &lt;st1:country-region&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;Thailand&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:country-region&gt; also  has transgender beauty pageants. (AP)&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4423304633671509990-1364378231196847978?l=peterishappy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://peterishappy.blogspot.com/feeds/1364378231196847978/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4423304633671509990&amp;postID=1364378231196847978&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4423304633671509990/posts/default/1364378231196847978'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4423304633671509990/posts/default/1364378231196847978'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://peterishappy.blogspot.com/2008/06/tranny-toilets.html' title='TRANNY TOILETS'/><author><name>Pedro Penduko</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06780443292579448989</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_yXPy5e-4Xik/SFnsCRkP4fI/AAAAAAAAACU/CGW-7PClXlg/s72-c/TRANS+TOILET.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4423304633671509990.post-1134450529781033051</id><published>2008-06-18T10:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-18T10:52:10.590-07:00</updated><title type='text'>GOD'S WISDOM</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_yXPy5e-4Xik/SFlJoYSDixI/AAAAAAAAACM/QMUOr4UfET8/s1600-h/CHUGI.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_yXPy5e-4Xik/SFlJoYSDixI/AAAAAAAAACM/QMUOr4UfET8/s400/CHUGI.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5213279001719835410" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;GOD is indeed wise.&lt;br /&gt;He never gives everything to one man alone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If HE hasn't given this person a good plastic surgeon, at least HE's given him some money to buy nice-looking underwear.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wonder where this guy got that leopard print undie.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cheers! :-)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4423304633671509990-1134450529781033051?l=peterishappy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://peterishappy.blogspot.com/feeds/1134450529781033051/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4423304633671509990&amp;postID=1134450529781033051&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4423304633671509990/posts/default/1134450529781033051'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4423304633671509990/posts/default/1134450529781033051'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://peterishappy.blogspot.com/2008/06/gods-wisdom.html' title='GOD&apos;S WISDOM'/><author><name>Pedro Penduko</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06780443292579448989</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_yXPy5e-4Xik/SFlJoYSDixI/AAAAAAAAACM/QMUOr4UfET8/s72-c/CHUGI.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4423304633671509990.post-6162757382906407314</id><published>2008-06-13T02:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-13T03:05:45.666-07:00</updated><title type='text'>LAKAS LOOB LAMANG</title><content type='html'>Gay men are known for setting the standards for physical beauty. Many gay men are also known for making the plain and common shine out. Many local beauty contests have gay men as movers and shakers. Heck, remove gay men from the  set-up of these contests, you might as well have Madame Auring as the party planner of Bb. Pilipinas.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the subject of male beauty contests, it still is the gay man that plans these well. With female beauty contests, the gay man simply puts himself as the contestant wanting to be the belle of the night. With male version, the gay man simply puts in his ideals of the man that will sweep him off of his dainty feet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BUT, somehow, the Filipino gay man still has to learn the ropes in selecting contestants when it comes to GAY MALE beauty contests. It usually turns out into a travesty.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I saw a poster of another one of those Gay ("Bisexual" for those who cannot stomach to actually say the "G" word) Male Beauty contests. Looking through all the pictures, I can't help but wonder exactly how thick was the foundation they placed on their faces that made them look like overly-photoshopped apparitions on their mugshots?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some of them don't even look like they're of legal age, and some well...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_yXPy5e-4Xik/SFI7aJsGakI/AAAAAAAAABc/RJLQ8VbhBm4/s1600-h/POSTER+PANGIT.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_yXPy5e-4Xik/SFI7aJsGakI/AAAAAAAAABc/RJLQ8VbhBm4/s400/POSTER+PANGIT.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5211293039284611650" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I wonder, if THIS GUY below won the title of "Mr. Photogenic" in THAT contest above, are the judges of that contest actually gay men OR a half-dead drugged out straight guy who has an axe to grind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_yXPy5e-4Xik/SFJD5fVR4VI/AAAAAAAAAB0/o8dQ4FTIWLc/s1600-h/hmmm.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_yXPy5e-4Xik/SFJD5fVR4VI/AAAAAAAAAB0/o8dQ4FTIWLc/s400/hmmm.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5211302373763440978" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hmmm, I think it would have been more fun if he wore a Wonder Woman costume.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_yXPy5e-4Xik/SFJEKYOKFwI/AAAAAAAAAB8/c6WaBQe181I/s1600-h/HMMMM+2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_yXPy5e-4Xik/SFJEKYOKFwI/AAAAAAAAAB8/c6WaBQe181I/s400/HMMMM+2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5211302663912298242" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just wanna know if his friends are&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_yXPy5e-4Xik/SFJEvpWhtJI/AAAAAAAAACE/XkZOEuh0Bn4/s1600-h/HMMMM+3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_yXPy5e-4Xik/SFJEvpWhtJI/AAAAAAAAACE/XkZOEuh0Bn4/s400/HMMMM+3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5211303304165962898" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; still talking to him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Peace!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4423304633671509990-6162757382906407314?l=peterishappy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://peterishappy.blogspot.com/feeds/6162757382906407314/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4423304633671509990&amp;postID=6162757382906407314&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4423304633671509990/posts/default/6162757382906407314'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4423304633671509990/posts/default/6162757382906407314'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://peterishappy.blogspot.com/2008/06/lakas-loob-lamang.html' title='LAKAS LOOB LAMANG'/><author><name>Pedro Penduko</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06780443292579448989</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_yXPy5e-4Xik/SFI7aJsGakI/AAAAAAAAABc/RJLQ8VbhBm4/s72-c/POSTER+PANGIT.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4423304633671509990.post-7006661579799054046</id><published>2008-06-12T07:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-12T07:48:15.514-07:00</updated><title type='text'>CLOTHES - WHO NEEDS 'EM?</title><content type='html'>This is the video catalogue for a clothing company called SHAI.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wonder how their window displays would look like in department stores.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hmmm.... enjoy!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Oh!! And I like the belt.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="320" height="266" class="BLOG_video_class" id="BLOG_video-ad2e8b0337f01d6d" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/get_player"&gt;&lt;param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="flashvars" value="flvurl=http://v24.nonxt4.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3Dad2e8b0337f01d6d%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1330403637%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D5B2619EF4C3DE1F92774EEF0721295E2FDF8A6BC.32C6DB2C524C7E3C79F650809F9E858AE32714E7%26key%3Dck1&amp;amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3Dad2e8b0337f01d6d%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DDTX9hlygL7mxHGexAsKVg4m6Li0&amp;amp;autoplay=0&amp;amp;ps=blogger"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/get_player" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"width="320" height="266" bgcolor="#FFFFFF"flashvars="flvurl=http://v24.nonxt4.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3Dad2e8b0337f01d6d%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1330403637%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D5B2619EF4C3DE1F92774EEF0721295E2FDF8A6BC.32C6DB2C524C7E3C79F650809F9E858AE32714E7%26key%3Dck1&amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3Dad2e8b0337f01d6d%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DDTX9hlygL7mxHGexAsKVg4m6Li0&amp;autoplay=0&amp;ps=blogger"allowFullScreen="true" /&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4423304633671509990-7006661579799054046?l=peterishappy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='enclosure' type='video/mp4' href='http://www.blogger.com/video-play.mp4?contentId=ad2e8b0337f01d6d&amp;type=video%2Fmp4' length='0'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://peterishappy.blogspot.com/feeds/7006661579799054046/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4423304633671509990&amp;postID=7006661579799054046&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4423304633671509990/posts/default/7006661579799054046'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4423304633671509990/posts/default/7006661579799054046'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://peterishappy.blogspot.com/2008/06/clothes-who-needs-em.html' title='CLOTHES - WHO NEEDS &apos;EM?'/><author><name>Pedro Penduko</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06780443292579448989</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4423304633671509990.post-5346069341843247050</id><published>2008-06-11T09:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-11T10:06:46.753-07:00</updated><title type='text'>JINGLE BELL MIKE</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_yXPy5e-4Xik/SFAFIIaohrI/AAAAAAAAABM/IBjp_1Po4tw/s1600-h/JINGLE.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_yXPy5e-4Xik/SFAFIIaohrI/AAAAAAAAABM/IBjp_1Po4tw/s320/JINGLE.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5210670406123947698" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;May ibang tao magaling makaalala ng mukha o pangalan. Tanungin lang nila pangalan ng isang tao eh maaalala na nila ito, kahit after ten years pa. Ako… hmmm, I have a pretty bad memory. Niloloko ako ng mga kaibigan ko na meron daw akong “memory gap”.  Minsan, kapag nagkakaganahan sa biruan eh tinawag na rin akong Dory – yung azul na isda na nakasama ng tatay ni Nemo sa paghahanap. Yun yung isda na mayroong short-term memory loss.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pero ang totoo eh, I don’t take the effort to remember someone if he or she doesn’t strike me at all or in particular, sa dami ng naka-one-night stand ko, eh di ko maalala ang nakararami sa kanila. Harapin na rin natin ang katotohanan na would a sexually-active individual guy such as I was would keep a tab of the guys I screwed and played with? Not!&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;There had been several times that I would bump into someone, say in a mall, that I know I have met and had sex with before. We’d lock eyes and there’d be that glint of recognition. Yun bang pakiramdam mo eh gusto niyang lumapit sa iyo pero hindi niya gagawin kasi makikita niyang pinatay-malisya mo siya. Kumbaga, you didn’t see anything at all. Hehehe, dedma na lang.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;Pero, merong mga pagkakataon na meron kang muling makikilala na naaalala niya LAHAT ng detalye ng gabing kayo ay “naglaro”. Ganyan si Mike o ang tinatawag ko na “Jingle Bell”.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;“Peter, I’d like to introduce you to someone. This is Mike, my friend. He works as a sales rep for&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;_____ Corp.,” said my friend John the social butterfly in Government, and then as fast as he came he left after a few pleasantries.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;“Hi,” said Mike.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;“Hi there. I’m…”&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;“Yeah, I know who you are. You don’t remember me?” said Mike, trying to say it above the din of the music in that club.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;“No. Sorry. Have we met before?” I shouted at the top of my lungs.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;“Yes we have. You’ve invited me to you place before. You know… we had fun. You don’t remember do you?” while holding his bottle of beer with one hand, the other was already grasping my elbow.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;“Really. Sorry. You’d have to forgive me but I really don’t remember,” I shouted back.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;“Maybe this will remind you,” his hand traveled swiftly from my elbow down to my crotch. Like a sudden gush of electricity, the energy of the club’s music traveled from my grin to my groin and I knew right then what I had to say.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;“Hmmm… I may not remember, but that feeling I definitely cannot forget,” I grinned my alcohol-laced lips at him. “Malapit lang ako dito, gusto mo ituloy natin ito sa lugar na mas private?”&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;“Sure. Cityland, right?” Mike said.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;I was surprised he knew where I live. Pero syempre, naunahan na ako ng libog. Kaya, ibinaba na lang namin ang aming mga bote sa bar at agad-agad na umalis.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;Sa taxi pa lamang ay halos isubsob na niya ang kanyang mukha sa pagitan ng aking mga hita. “Not here. Pagdating natin sa unti ko,” sabi ko. “Yeah… Cityland 9. Sixth floor. Mag-isa ka pa rin don?” sagot niya.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;Kahit na pilit ko pa ring inaalala kung sino siya, pinigil ko sarili kong tanungin pa siya at sinabi ko na lang, “Oo.”&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;________&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;Dahil siguro sa magkahalong kalasingan, kalibugan at pagnanasa sa mga labi niyang malalambot, inabot kami halos kalahating oras ng matindi at mainit na halikan sa ibabaw ng aking sofa. We only parted lips when I felt the need to tell him, “Iihi muna ako. Sandali lang.”&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;I went to the toilet to release the contents of my bladder and he followed me. At the doorway, he stood there half-naked and told me, “”You haven’t changed a single detail of your room. I see you still have the same yellow pillow like before and thatTtanduay calendar stuck on the wall.”&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;That last comment made me think really hard. Have I really had sex with this guy before?&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;When I faced him, I saw the tent between his legs building up nicely. In the light of the toilet I can fully see a really nice, silken chest and a devilish smile that I only want to eat, eat and eat. I grabbed him by the waist, brought him to me and grappled him on to the toilet wall and wiped away the smug grin off his face with a series of heavy tonguing and deep kisses. I then slowly went down on my knees letting my tongue travel down that smooth chest, slide down to his navel and let it slowly and steadily go down to the prize. My fingers grasped the waistband of his underwear and let it pulled it down.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;When his manhood came into full view, I was amazed at how much anticipation it had built up. It sprung to life like it had a mind of its own greeting me with a silent smile as if to say, “Hello. I am all yours tonight. Eat me.”&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;It was firm, had a nice, steady and has a sexy bottle shape, and… and…what I saw dangling was the most unusual protuberance on a protuberance. IT had a small tiny piece of flesh jiggling beneath the head like uncut piece of foreskin left there after circumcision.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;“Tinggil” ang minsa’y narinig kong itinawag dito. It was like a tiny little “Jingle bell”.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Then, as sudden as the wave of lust that came over me, the memory started to flood my mind as to who this guy was. Pointing at his penis, I uttered a surprised cry, “MIKE!! Yeah, I remember you now. JINGLE &lt;st1:city st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;BELL&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:city&gt;!” and I looked up to him with a wide grin on my face.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;_________&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;Matapos ng maikling rebelasyon sa aking isip kung sino siya, nagtawanan kami. “Siguro sa ganyang paraan mo naaalala ang mga nakakasex mo ano? Sa hugis ng titi nila.”&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;        &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;“Mike naman. Tell me. Gaano karami ang mga lalaki na may ganyang Jingle Bell sa e-tits nila?” sabi ko sa kanya.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;“Hehehe, at least naaalala mo pa ako. &lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Tara&lt;/st1:place&gt; na, sex na tayo Peter. Fuck me ulit like before. Sarap mo pare.”&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;“Oh sige… Jingle &lt;st1:city st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Bell&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:city&gt;. Hehehe...”&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4423304633671509990-5346069341843247050?l=peterishappy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://peterishappy.blogspot.com/feeds/5346069341843247050/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4423304633671509990&amp;postID=5346069341843247050&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4423304633671509990/posts/default/5346069341843247050'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4423304633671509990/posts/default/5346069341843247050'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://peterishappy.blogspot.com/2008/06/jingle-bell-mike.html' title='JINGLE BELL MIKE'/><author><name>Pedro Penduko</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06780443292579448989</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_yXPy5e-4Xik/SFAFIIaohrI/AAAAAAAAABM/IBjp_1Po4tw/s72-c/JINGLE.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4423304633671509990.post-5539483666711414899</id><published>2008-06-07T11:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-07T11:36:15.973-07:00</updated><title type='text'>GOODBYE LOVER, GOODBYE FRIEND</title><content type='html'>&lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;This is a letter of goodbye written to a lover back in 2004. It was a good time until the truth caught up with me and I had to bid farewell...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;________&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Dear Ramon,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;It has taken me several letters to write this down, and I hope this last one would be able to say all the things that I want to tell you.&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I wake up today feeling a deep sense of dread. I paced back and forth here in my room asking myself if I should or should not write you. The one who cares so much in me decided that I should.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;You have been a deep influence in my life for the past three months since we first saw each other in your car. That Sunday evening when you invited me and I first glimpsed you in the dark, the first thought that ran into my mind was, “This is going to be another interesting one-night stand.” It did turn out to be quite interesting… and it evolved into so many things that I thought I would never experience again. It was an adventure knowing so many things about you, that sometimes it became too heady. It bore upon me so much that I lost sleep thinking of so many things about you and made me see things in me that I thought was not there anymore.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;I had this thought that I carried for the past few years thinking that I will never fall in love again. But with you, I did. I asked myself countless times before I professed it. I was even quite careful not to enunciate it until I was sure of myself. Eventually, I did and I don’t regret any part of it.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;I told you so many things about me, and you did too. You showed me your life. You told me your past. You even showed me part of your dreams. I clearly remember asking you what your deepest desire was but you couldn’t give an answer. You know what? You did. When you showed me your house, I found out what it was. You want to build a family of your own and that house was the beginning of it. You shaped it according to what you desire for yourself someday. The pictures of your nieces were quite telling. You someday dream of having children of your own with a loving wife and a warm home. Now that I think about it, I am quite glad you made me see that part of your future.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;You showed me pictures of Maryanne. I saw in her a woman deeply in love with you. In her is a woman who has latched upon you her hopes for someday to become a proper wife to a good husband, to care for him, to nurture him, to build a home with him. To a woman that’s the culmination of every desire she has in life and has prepared for. I have seen and known that so well amongst the closest females in my life, beginning with my own mother up to my closest friend.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;You showed me another part of your life – the one that you allowed me to share with you. In total contrast to the house you built, to the future that you see yourself in with Maryanne, the apartment you shared with James is a picture of a life you have lost control of.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;I didn’t keep from you the way I reacted when you first allowed me to enter the confines of that apartment. I was appalled. It was in disarray and confusion. You tried so hard to keep things in order and yet you cannot. Behind the door of that apartment, life, as you have known for the past few years, is crumbling. You know that pretty well. In fact, I don’t even have to say it to you but I will.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;I do not doubt the care you have for James. You’ve shown it several times in the way you tell of him and the lengths you have to go to in order to show him you still care and love him. That night, listening to a radio program you both shared, I saw in your eyes the fondness of a past lived and still wanting to have. I also quite remember several instances when you’d have to fetch him because you think he is incapable of taking care of his own way home to your shared apartment. The things I saw in there revealed so much on how you can care for someone totally different from you. You are introspective and he is not. You are well ordered while he is an anti-thesis to the concept. You pride yourself with your accomplishments, whilst he, much older than you, is still smarting from the lack of it and is struggling still to stand on his own.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;I admire the way you try to help him. I admire the way you try as you might, to give him the will to stand again. I admire the sense of direction that you try to bring back into his life. I even admire the way you are grateful for the things that he has done for you – for how he has taught you the basic necessities of single living. I admire the duty you have for him. If only you were his husband (or wife) you would stand proud amongst the plethora of partners who persevered in a committed relationship. Unfortunately, you are not.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;I see in your eyes the disappointments with him. His failures have caused in you a deep wound, for how can someone who has taught you so much fail you in the end? You even admitted that you are unsure if he still loves you. And yet you stay.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;It is clear to me that you met me, and so many others, thinking that you will find in others an image of the James you once knew. I don’t have to mention the others, but it is clear that many of them failed you as well. You say you admire me for my brain, that I can see through the many layers you’ve woven around yourself. You say you admire Raymond for his maturity and the way he says things to you that you like to hear. I tell you, you are longing to see James the way you knew him before. I do hope I am wrong in this assumption. But every time you speak of him, every time you say his name… your eyes cannot betray your longing.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;Ramon, despite the fact that you both share the same bed, you have drifted apart. He has long drifted from you and you are now left with a memory. You said to me once that you feel so alone and I told you that you don’t have to. To hear it from you, it was so heart-rending. I still shed a tear. For how could someone so sure of himself be lost in his own sadness? How can someone, who repeatedly said that he is happy and has peace, be not? You look for love and a sense of belonging from others thinking that the wound of longing for a lost love be healed in the laps of other men. You looked for it in me and I have blindly given it, thinking I could give it and hope for something in return. But what tears me apart, is that you will eventually be looking for healing in the embrace of someone who truly loves you and is about to commit herself to you. And here, I speak of Maryanne.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;I mentioned that it is every woman’s desire to be a wife and a mother. Their nature dictates it. From them life will spring forth. Hope will be nurtured and bred from their wombs. Maryanne is not exempt from this. From the actuations that she has shown in your descriptions, she is about to embrace her eventual future with you. And it is in us men who have chosen a woman, to give ourselves fully in partnership to fulfill our part in bringing forth this life and sharing in it. &lt;i style=""&gt;There can be no room for mistakes.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;She has expectations from you. Expectations that you are fully aware of – a proper house, a proper life and a proper husband. No more, no less. For a woman, nothing is more precious than a child. A child completes her. And it is a man’s duty to be complete for his woman and his child. Now I ask you, how complete will you be for her? And I ask again, the same way I asked you last Friday… how much do you love her in order for you to complete her?&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;I accept the fact that we met in strained circumstances. I now even look back thinking, I do not regret having known you, even when everything was in vain. I am a man who fell in love with a man who is longing for a lost love with another. To you, it is not normal. To me, I accept it as part of my humanity. The irony of it is I persisted, knowing our values are different. Even now, deep inside me, I hope for you to be here. But that will never be. I even think you are incapable of being even a friend with those you’ve had shared intimate moments with, including me. It saddens me if I find out that I am right; that all you said before were mere sugar coated lies just to please my ears. But they don’t matter. I am going to be a mere memory years down the road.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;What saddens me more is you are about to embark on a path where you will eventually be making a vow to someone who you profess your love to and is about to give her entire life to you, and you will be building that on sandy soil.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;I have known many men who began their married lives thinking everything is in order, as long as they can keep their secrets well hidden. Here’s an irony; despots do that. Men who make other people suffer do that. Men who conquer and divide do that. Keeping secrets is a strategy every man who desires to have everything in life use well. You are an intelligent man who keeps secrets. You will eventually do that as well.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;What prompted me to say this? The knowledge you’ve given me about yourself: the pain you still bear for James, the intimacy you’ve shown with other men including me, the confusion occurring in your hidden life, the lost boy inside you who is still struggling with his sexual identity… these are all so telling of a crumbling belief in your self. You are losing control of your life and your secrets are bearing heavily on you. These are strong words I sincerely hope are wrong. But that is the truth I see in you.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;I do not condemn you. I cannot and I will never condemn you. &lt;/i&gt;But I cannot be party to deception.&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I tell you now as a friend who loves you deeply, to please… and I beg you, to look deep inside you, to seek your own truth, no matter how painful for you to be able to discern what you seek in your life. You mentioned that while growing, you never had anyone to tell your deepest emotions. I am honored that you shared them with me. Now that the person who was supposed to be easing your loneliness cannot meet anymore the demands of your life, I bear the burden of knowing your inner thoughts. Discern well. Let your love guide you towards a decision that will not be based on whether you will please those around you. Be guided by the truth. A woman gives life. A man &lt;i style=""&gt;makes&lt;/i&gt; life. We, as men, shape this life. We shape our own lives. We also have the capacity to destroy this life.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;When I came to know and accept the truth about myself, whatever it was, I embraced it. I allowed those who I love to share in it. I made my life richer. And I fervently hope that those who shared in mine that their lives have become richer as well. I pray the same thing for you. I pray that your life is based on truth and love.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;Ramon… despite the pain knowing you have caused in me because of your confusion and disarray in your secret life, I bear this in dignity and grace. You know pretty well, from all the conversations we’ve had, how much I wish for you.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;The truth, as been often said, hurts.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;        &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;And painfully, like a knife slicing through my flesh, this is the truth I see and I must embrace it.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;With this letter, from the deepest recesses of my heart, I am saying goodbye to you.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Peter&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4423304633671509990-5539483666711414899?l=peterishappy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://peterishappy.blogspot.com/feeds/5539483666711414899/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4423304633671509990&amp;postID=5539483666711414899&amp;isPopup=true' title='14 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4423304633671509990/posts/default/5539483666711414899'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4423304633671509990/posts/default/5539483666711414899'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://peterishappy.blogspot.com/2008/06/goodbye-lover-goodbye-friend.html' title='GOODBYE LOVER, GOODBYE FRIEND'/><author><name>Pedro Penduko</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06780443292579448989</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>14</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4423304633671509990.post-8006503454280973531</id><published>2008-06-06T23:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-06T23:21:47.431-07:00</updated><title type='text'>CALLING ALL PROFESSIONS</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_yXPy5e-4Xik/SEon2nD8D4I/AAAAAAAAABA/u-TzynlUStI/s1600-h/garbage+collector.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_yXPy5e-4Xik/SEon2nD8D4I/AAAAAAAAABA/u-TzynlUStI/s400/garbage+collector.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5209019738159320962" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Naku, napakalibog mo Peter! Lahat na lang yata ng propesyon ng lalaki eh may naka-sex ka na. Oh ano, tama ba?” sabi sa akin ni Donna habang binibisita ko siya sa apartment niya sa Salas sa Ermita. Si Donna ang isa sa mga tinatawag ko na “fag hag”, mga uri ng babae na mistulang pinaka-best friend ng mga gay men na tulad ko.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Ano magagawa ko Donna eh maraming nahihilig sa mukhang pulis na tulad ko,” pagmamayabang ko.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Gagah! Malibog ka lang kamo,” pangungutya niya. “Oh heto, quiz tayo. Mag-enumerate ako ng mga trabaho and tell me kung may naka-sex ka nang ganun.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Call,” sabi ko.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Nurse,” unang sinabi.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Anong klase?” sabi ko.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Anong anong klase? Basta nurse. Kung may naka-dyug ka nang ganun.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Hmmm,” napag-isip ako. “Anong klase nga? Kasi-iba-ibang nurse eh. May na-bottom na ako na operating room nurse. Meron ding clinical nurse. At nursing aide. Actually, masaya yung nursing aide. Ginawa namin supply room ng St. Luke’s malapit sa nursery. Hehehe, muntik pa kaming mahuli nung kasama niya eh.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Hay naku… iba naman. Ah heto, Doktor!” isinunod niya.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Aaah, mahirap yan. Marami-rami rin kasi. Halimbawa, si Charles – yung neurologist. Hilig niya yung ginagawa namin dun sa balkonahe ko dati. Nandyan si Bennie, yung cardio sa St. Luke’s. Si Randy, yung Ob-Gyne sa PGH na mortal na kaaway naman ni Bernard, yung urologist na Manila Doctors. Yung si bennie, kakaiba yun. May chismis na ginagawa din daw niya sa rottweiler niya.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“EEEeeeewww!!! Kadiri naman,” sambit na may pandidira ni Donna. “Chakaaah!!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Alam mo, don’t waste you imagination. I’ve had sex with teachers – high school, college, pati kindergarten at special education teachers. Pati ilan sa mga professor ko sa noon sa UP. Lawyer, naku, lalo na. Alam mo, kung iisa-isahin ko lahat ng napaligaya ko, pwede akong magtayo ng either hospital, eskwelahan at law firm. Iba’t-ibang specialty sila.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Eh tindero ng baboy sa palengke?! Hayan ah…” hirit ni Donna.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Kilala mo si Mang Jhun? Yung pinagkukunan ko ng baboy sa palengke na sabi mo eh bakit sobrang mura ko nakukuha sa kanya?” tanong ko sa kanya.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Huwag mo sabihing…”, dugtong niya.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Hahaha, siyempre, kasama sa fringe benefits ng “paglalaro” namin yan. Discount sa karne niya,” sabi ko.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Pang-masa ka rin pala! Mula professionals hanggang jologs,” tuwang sambit ni Donna.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Syempre… I believe in democracy. Democratic din ako pati sa sex partner. Hehehe…”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Wala akong masabi,” banggit niya sabay talikod. “Lahat na yata ng propesyon may na-dyug ka na.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Yeah, maybe nga,” nag-agree ako.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Makalipas ng ilang minuto ng katahimikan, habang ako’y nagbabasa at si Donna ay naglilinis ng kanyang mga kuko sa paa, ay biglang napahiyaw siya.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“AYY! Alam ko na!! I'm sure wala ka pang naka-sex na ganito trabaho,” sigaw niya.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Ano?” tanong ko.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Basurero!!! Hahaha, am sure wala ka pang naka-sex na ganyan,” sabi niya nang may pagmamalaki.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Ah, eh… sorry. Pero meron na. Disinuwebe anyos siya na sumasabay sa paghakot ng basura para sa Leonel garbage service,” pag-amin ko sa kanya.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Eeeek, seryoso?!?!” sigaw ulit ni Donna.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“In fairness naman, noong bago magpasko yun. Nagbabahay-bahay siya para sa pamasko “from your friendly garbage collector”. It ended up na hindi lang pamasko ang naibigay ko sa kanya that night,” kwento k okay Donna.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Ang libog mo talaga Peter! Walang pinapatawad. Hahahahaha….” Sigaw ni Donna.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4423304633671509990-8006503454280973531?l=peterishappy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://peterishappy.blogspot.com/feeds/8006503454280973531/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4423304633671509990&amp;postID=8006503454280973531&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4423304633671509990/posts/default/8006503454280973531'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4423304633671509990/posts/default/8006503454280973531'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://peterishappy.blogspot.com/2008/06/calling-all-professions.html' title='CALLING ALL PROFESSIONS'/><author><name>Pedro Penduko</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06780443292579448989</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_yXPy5e-4Xik/SEon2nD8D4I/AAAAAAAAABA/u-TzynlUStI/s72-c/garbage+collector.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4423304633671509990.post-2655568276898478219</id><published>2008-06-06T19:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-06T19:18:46.605-07:00</updated><title type='text'>SPEECHLESS</title><content type='html'>Mahal ko na si Madame Auring!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/inZh3cxB76Q&amp;amp;hl=en"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/inZh3cxB76Q&amp;amp;hl=en" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4423304633671509990-2655568276898478219?l=peterishappy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://peterishappy.blogspot.com/feeds/2655568276898478219/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4423304633671509990&amp;postID=2655568276898478219&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4423304633671509990/posts/default/2655568276898478219'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4423304633671509990/posts/default/2655568276898478219'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://peterishappy.blogspot.com/2008/06/speechless.html' title='SPEECHLESS'/><author><name>Pedro Penduko</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06780443292579448989</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4423304633671509990.post-1430631330627161569</id><published>2008-06-05T09:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-05T23:46:14.738-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The SEXth Floor - Series 1</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_yXPy5e-4Xik/SEjO-9dUKbI/AAAAAAAAAAo/gkGtKd-9cIc/s1600-h/IN+GOD.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_yXPy5e-4Xik/SEjO-9dUKbI/AAAAAAAAAAo/gkGtKd-9cIc/s400/IN+GOD.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5208640550098708914" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They used to call the sixth floor of Cityland 9 as "the SEXth Floor" way back in the years 2000 to  2001. And it was right on the dot to have such a moniker.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I used to live there during those years, back when condominium residents would have this air of pride in saying "I live in a condo unit" when asked where they go home at night. There seems to be this sense of being in the upper crust if you get to say you're a condo-dweller as opposed to saying you rent a bed along some grungy neighborhood like Baranggay San Isidro. I just couldn't make myself say back then that "I live in condo" with that tone. Why should I? The unit I was renting then was no bigger than the walk-in closet of our maid in the old house I grew up in. My unit was literally a birdcage. The only satisfaction I did get from living in such a death trap was that mine faces the skyline of the business district of Makati. Were it not for the panoramic  view I had, I would have hung myself from the doorway out of depression and claustrophobia.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aside from that view, I had another extra. And that came in the form of the sixth floor being a SEXth Floor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;________&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; John.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; An American volunteer for the Peace Corps - 24 years of age, blonde, blue-eyed and speaks flawless Tagalog with a Batangueno accent. He lives in unit 6_6, a one-bedroom affair. He has quite a charming and disarming look about him that coupled with some few lines of Tagalog can easily melt any local's knees.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Unit 6_6," said the tall guy in brown shorts and a cap pulled down low over his head at the security guard behind the lobby's desk as he gave the latter his i.d. and signed in the visitor's logbook.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Ah dun kay Ser John," said the guard and gave the guy a mischievous smile. When the elevator sounded its familiar bell and the doors opened, the tall guy went in and disappeared into the lift to head straight for unit 6_6.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"Bilib din ako sa kapitbahay ninyo ser. Ikaapat na ngayon gabi yang umakyat sa kanya. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Talo pa niya yung mga japayuki sa kabilang side ng floor nyo," &lt;/span&gt;the guard told me with his smile still &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;plastered on his face.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"Anong ibig nyo sabihin Manong,"&lt;/span&gt; I asked the guard while still holding the cigarette i was smoking by the window of the lobby.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"Naku, brod. Malilibog mga tao sa floor nyo. Alam lahat yan ng Roving dito. Tawag nga namin eh SEXth Floor. Pinakamatindi yung Kanong si John. Minsan nga eh nakabukas yung pinto niya. Nagroronda ako nun at kita ko na may kinakantot siya sa sahig. Laking titi po ser,"&lt;/span&gt; by now Manong Guard was already saying these in a hushed tone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"Ganun ba?"&lt;/span&gt; I replied&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"Yung ka-relyebo ko nga ser eh natikman na yang si John,"&lt;/span&gt; he added. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"Hindi nga ser makalakad ng maayos at nag-absent. Pero, sabi niya, sarap daw kumantot nung Kano kahit ubod nang laki."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4423304633671509990-1430631330627161569?l=peterishappy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://peterishappy.blogspot.com/feeds/1430631330627161569/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4423304633671509990&amp;postID=1430631330627161569&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4423304633671509990/posts/default/1430631330627161569'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4423304633671509990/posts/default/1430631330627161569'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://peterishappy.blogspot.com/2008/06/sexth-floor-series-1.html' title='The SEXth Floor - Series 1'/><author><name>Pedro Penduko</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06780443292579448989</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_yXPy5e-4Xik/SEjO-9dUKbI/AAAAAAAAAAo/gkGtKd-9cIc/s72-c/IN+GOD.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4423304633671509990.post-7779168701787364091</id><published>2008-06-05T03:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-05T04:31:33.127-07:00</updated><title type='text'>DADDY, DADDY, OH DADDY...</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;“According to the DOH undersecretary there are 49 new cases of HIV+ individuals. Alarmingly they are call center agents. The disease has now jumped from the straight population to the gay people. Beware.”&lt;/span&gt;  So goes the text message I got from some guy whose name is in my mobile, but I’ve already forgotten how it got there. I don’t even recall if I had sex with him.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;     &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;With the HIV-scare in mind I sent a text to Percy (a 22-year old I will meet in a few minutes for some hot humping in bed), “I don’t do bareback. I prefer it safe.”&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;A few seconds he replied, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;“Kul. Me 2. Pro pre wla ako Cndom. Buy ka.”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;      &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;“K”&lt;/span&gt;, I replied.&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;________&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;“Anong flavor ser?”&lt;/span&gt; asked the small guy at the local 7-11&lt;/p&gt; &lt;span class="transl_class" title="Click to correct" id="1"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;“Ah, eh… yung walang flavor?”&lt;/span&gt;, I said but more like asking if they have anything without any flavor. I never really took on the habit of blowing a dick with rubber. Aside from the lubricant that makes my lips feel like they’re gonna slide on each other, the taste of rubber is simply – rubbery - in whatever flavor.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;“Ser, meron pa ho kami bukod sa Trust,”&lt;/span&gt; he was offering.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;“Ano?”&lt;/span&gt; I turned my head while about to reach for my wallet.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;“Eto ser. Frenzy,”&lt;/span&gt; and he held up a pack that looks like bubble gum instead of prophylactics.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;“Cute,” I thought to myself. “I’m going to fuck a guy almost half my age and I’m going to wear chewing gum on my dong.”&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;“No thanks. I’ll take Trust.” And handed to him the money.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;       &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;With a full packet of rubber in my pocket, I was ready to wage war.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;  &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;__________&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;When he opened the door, he muttered a soft “Hi. Come in.”&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;As I stepped into the single bedroom unit in Cityland, he poked out his head into the hallway, making sure nobody saw me come in.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;“Want anything?” he asked. “Water? Coke?”&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;“No. Only you,” I grabbed his thin waist and firm rear with my big, calloused hands and proceeded to give him a long, breathless, probing kiss like that of a soldier-lover who went to war and suddenly popped through the doorway after several years of absence.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;I never let go of the young creature and he seemed to have let himself melt away in the embrace of my kiss and the firm caresses of my hands. Without parting our lips even once, we shucked off all our clothes and let it be strewn all over the floor. Standing there, both of us naked in the living room with the heat of both our bodies warming each other, I gently started to lay his soft, lithe and glistening body softly on the carpeted floor. I kissed his neck, caressed his chest, holding between my fingers the soft mounds of his nipples and hearing from his lips the groans of pleasure, I was about to lift his legs and bury my face in &lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;between them when he curled up and whispered in my ear, “Not here. There’s a bed inside.”&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;We stood up. Both of us naked and our bodies beginning to glisten in sweat, he held my hand and led me to the soft warm embrace of the bed.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;_________&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;“How old are you again?”, I asked him in between breaths as I plopped into the soft sheets beside him.&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;“I will be 22 in October,” he said, as he wrapped his arm and leg around me. “You’re really big, and have a hard body. I like men like you. I feel safe and secure."&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;“I felt like a rapist. Or better yet – a child molester,” and turned my face towards him and gave him a gentle kiss.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;“Hahaha, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;hindi naman&lt;/span&gt;. I like you. you’re sexy, mature – and funny.”&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;“And I like this most of all,” I whispered in his ear as I pressed hard on his buns. Firm, round and yet quite pliable. I thought I can bury myself in it and lose my sanity for days.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;“Will we do this again?” he asked.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;“If you like,” I said.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;“Of course, you’re my Daddy,” and he stared at me with those big and round doe-like eyes.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;________&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4423304633671509990-7779168701787364091?l=peterishappy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://peterishappy.blogspot.com/feeds/7779168701787364091/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4423304633671509990&amp;postID=7779168701787364091&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4423304633671509990/posts/default/7779168701787364091'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4423304633671509990/posts/default/7779168701787364091'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://peterishappy.blogspot.com/2008/06/daddy-daddy-oh-daddy.html' title='DADDY, DADDY, OH DADDY...'/><author><name>Pedro Penduko</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06780443292579448989</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry></feed>
