Weekend Wagi

The weekend started out with me going to Bed on Friday and bumping into Patrick. He’s a friend of Kervs who was with us last year in Malate’s street party; we even helped him pick up this date of his in Q.C. It was embarrassing—he remembered my name but I didn’t his. The whole time we were talking I couldn’t say his name. Old age at Alzheimer’s disease na ito! Worse, he asked me to save his number in my cellphone. So I ended up with a number and a question mark for a name. I had to call Kervs the next morning just to get his name. Sheesh.

Saturday afternoon I watched Kung Fu Hustle. I am such a huge fan of Stephen Chow. I watch any of his movies that I chance upon on cable. He’s not as over-the-top manic as Jim Carrey, but he’s got the silliness of Buster Keaton with the heart of Charlie Chaplin. Kung Fu Hustle has many inspired silliness going for it, even when the CGI threatens to push it over the top (his chase scene with the landlady got me giggling uncontrollably and saying to myself over and over: “This is the silliest thing ever!”)

That night I decided to go to Government for a change. This is the second time I’ve been to Government (the first was last Wednesday for the launch of Icon magazine), but the first time on a Saturday. My, my, my. The Government crowd is more adult, more moneyed and in general more behaved. There seemed to be less overt flirting going on as compared to its Malate counterpart. Or maybe there is, but the people there are more subtle. Then again, older people tend to be more stable or more attached or more jaded, and therefore less, uhm, driven? pressured? desperate? to hook up—for the night or for a longer period.

Then again, that’s just one evening’s observation. Memo to me: must do more research. Hehehe. Anybody want to be my research assistant?

Sunday I watched Ocean’s Twelve. There were, for me, inspired moments of giddy fun (the yoga-dance number while avoiding the laser lights, the Julia Roberts as Tess playing Julia Roberts), and the cast and director were obviously enjoying themselves—too much, I think. They were entertaining themselves, not the audience. And the main twist that solves everything was such a deus ex machina. The biggest con act of Ocean’s Twelve is getting us to shell out money to watch it.

Ayan, may bar review na, may movie review pa!