Good Times with Mo, Mojo and Grace Lee (Lost and Found) : October 30,2008

Notes from Bodi's Diary

The grass was dewy as I ran around the football field, the air a little chilly more than usual. I stopped and looked around me.

Even the shadow of the trees seemed different, the angle of the images reflected on the pavement slightly longer, a mark of the earth's slight tilt away from its gravitational orbit.

I noticed this phenomenon when the end of the year approaches. Happier days ahead. Christmas, the long holiday furlough from December to January, and closer to home - the semestral break that started two weeks ago.

'Semestral break' are two of the most joyful words invented for college students like me whose noses are attached to books cheek by jowl, eyes latched on to their computers 24/7, brains almost squeezed dry by inhumane exams given by equally vicious teachers.

It's over!!!!

Well, it's not over.I didn't know then that the start of the semestral break marked the beginning of a long, agonizing search for one precious thing that could spell doom for me if I couldn't find it in time.

As the Features Editor of my school paper, I took a lot of pictures for a recent article on a former batchmate who has gone rogue, and is now heading a Muslim separatist army in Mindanao. In fact this former student, let's call him X, is now rumored to be one of Benny Laden's first lieutenants in Southeast Asia.

I worked hard for this article, hiking in the hills of Antipolo for that top secret meeting.

It was a scoop! In fact, my Chief Editor told me that if we were able to print it in a week, local and international news agencies will be interested in the article, and our names will forever be emblazoned in the annals of journalistic derring-do,the new Bob Woodward and Carl Bernstein in the flesh!

I took lots of pictures of X in all sorts of poses, especially in his favorite pieces of armory. X was a crazy, brilliant dude. Scary. He wanted world domination. He laughed at the camera I was using.He said I was using the equipment since we were in high school.I haven't seen one a journalist-to-be with this kind of equipment, but hey, I couldn't afford a newer model. Besides, this precious camera has not disappointed me in all my journalistic adventures.

My Editor asked for the X article, and I e-mailed it to him as soon as I finished typing it. I then prepared to download the pictures from my trusty camera. As I turned it on, the battery lights started blinking, needing a power surge from the charger. I looked for the charger, and it was gone.

At first it didn't sink in. I never gave importance to a camera charger. It was one of those small, innocuous gadgets that are insignificant to one's existence until its importance suddenly looms in your horizon, a dinosaur about to rip you in six seconds, a plane about to land on top of your house.

Where was the damn charger? I looked for it and couldn't find it. I searched for it inside the offices of the school paper, and it wasn't there.

Meanwhile, my Editor was starting to give me dirty looks. He was pissed. Uh oh. Wait till he gets angry.

I asked for my brother's help in looking for it. When I told him that the camera charger was missing, he flipped too.

"Don't tell me you haven't downloaded my Class Night Pictures. My class will kill me and chop me into a hundred pieces." We both looked at one another with alarm.

We searched inside the house, and sifted through tons of old books, dirty clothes (uggh!!), garbage bins, name it, we looked under, over, above.

I remembered that pictures of X, my brother's Class Night pictures were not the only ones lost. My family's recent pictures in Thailand and my org's recent party pictures were not yet downloaded. Seeing my Dad's anger and my friends' disappointment depressed me more.

Where do I get a replacement charger as old as this?

When it looked like it was really gone, we started praying to St. Anthony, the dude to call for lost things. My brother and I thought that by praying, a light will suddenly shine and a thought bubble would spark inside our minds for a clue to where the charger is. Nope, no such luck.

And so, here I am, running around campus, trying to find solace in my early morning run around the football field, trying to savor the last few days of the sem break, trying to find words to tell an Editor not to kill me.

My cell phone was ringing, and when I looked at it, I became alarmed. My Mom never called me this early in the morning.

" Bodi, guess what! There's a guest at the radio show who's psychic and can find lost things by talking to you through the phone. Hurry. Call now!!" I thought my Mom would have a heart attack. I didn't realize that she had absorbed my worry about the lost charger.

"Which radio show,Ma?"

"Mo Twister's show! Call now. No one's calling because Mo Twister isn't around. Talk to Mojo and Grace Lee."

I didn't know my Mom has shifted from listening to her beloved AM morning shows.

"I only have my cell phone, Ma."

"I don't care. Use the darned cell. I'm paying for the charges, anyway!"

I was touched. My Mom was willing to pay for the cell charges as long as I was able to talk to the psychic dude guest.

I've been an avid Goodtimes listener for years, but lately I haven't been listening to the show because of all my troubles. I shared the same belief as Mo Twister. I don't believe in ghosts or third eyes, and I was skeptical about the guest. But my Mom believed otherwise. She always said that she had a sixth sense, but deliberately did not want to use it in any way.

The lines were busy, busy, busy. How the hell would I be lucky enough to call this show? Finally a ring, but God, it took forever. What if no one answers?

God forbid, what if they take the provincial line first?

"Hello?" It was the most mellifluous greeting I've ever heard from a girl. I couldn't believe it was Grace Lee on the line. She sounded so warm and so non-judgemental.

"Hi Grace Lee and Mojo," my voice sounded hesitant. " About the lost things?"

"Did you lose something between your legs?" Mojo was catty as hell, but I disregarded it. At this point, my pride was the least of my worries.

"I lost my camera charger," I think I heard some snickering. . perhaps Mojo thought it was so insignificant. .

"Let's see if Jobert can find it, " Grace Lee answers in a kind voice.

So he has a name. Jobert. What an ordinary sounding name for such incredible psychic gifts.

"You know what? It's not in the house anymore. It's in a place away from the house. It's in a small, black, gym bag. Perhaps it's in the car?"

I pondered on what Jobert said.

"That sounds logical. Thanks."

It was as illogical as hell and didn't make sense.The car? How could it be there? In a gym bag? My Mom and Dad go regularly to the gym. I prefer running around the campus.

I go to the car parked near the football field, and I poked and looked around. Books, papers, no bag. I looked to the back.

Two bags. Both my Mom's.

I zero in on the black bag. Could it be there?

My fingers searched for a tiny charger in the first and middle pocket of the bag.. I wanted to cry at that point. Last pocket, last chance. I scrounged around and felt a bulge. Makeup, perhaps? I brought it out and God Almighty, it's the charger.

My face was awash with tears by that time. But I didn't care. I thought my career in the university paper was gone, my reputation tattered, my relationship with my family irreparable.

It was a miracle. I looked up in the sky. Thank God Almighty!

I called my Mother. My brother was on the line too. The rest of the members of my family were jumping up and down then.

"Call the show again to thank them!"

But I was crying again, in relief, in gratitude. Mom felt that I was too emotional by that time to make the call, and she volunteered to text the Magic show by then.

In a few minutes, I was calm and ready to make the call myself, to thank Jobert for using his powers for good, and to thank the show hosts.

I was listening to the radio, and I laughed.

My Mom's text message was being read by Grace Lee.

"My son called about the cell phone charger. He found it! Please tell Mo that he's wrong about not believing in ghosts or people with a third eye. Thanks to Jobert."

I guffawed. Trust my Mom to make a dig about Mo's skepticism about ghosts.

Sweet! It was the first laugh I heard from myself in three weeks. Life is beautiful. Thanks to psychic dude Jobert, I can smile again.

(Postscript : Bodi is a real early morning caller at Goodtimes looking for his camera charger. His voice sounded really troubled and at first I could understand why Mojo and Grace Lee might have thought that it was an insignificant problem. It dawned on me that the camera he was using could contain important irretrievable documents and more was at stake than the pictures contained in it.

I found it funny too that the Mom of Bodi sent a text message thanking Jobert, but at the same time shoving a dig at Mo, telling Mo that he is wrong about not believing in supernatural stuff.

'Notes from Bodi' is purely fictional and does not reflect the real Bodi's thoughts,but comes from the imagination and point of view of the blogger.Goodtimes!

Photos of the trees courtesy of Algo at Flickr)

Good Times with Mo, Mojo and Grace Lee (How to Define Bliss) : October 29, 2008 show

Notes from a Diary
October 29, 7pm

How do you define bliss?

Bliss is a state of extreme happiness, spiritual joy, blessedness, euphoria,
felicity, gladness, rapture.

When a radio show elicits this feeling from a listener, then that show isn't just any radio show anymore, right?

How can one explain it? You listen, and then a metaphysical alteration happens when the brain, the gut and the spirit collide. You find yourself laughing one moment, crying the next when you hear a moving song, and then ponder perhaps on a deep philosophical,maybe controversial issue in the next fifteen minutes.

What happens when a radio show isn't just what it purports out to be? Listening to it is like jumping off a cliff without a parachute, bungee jumping without a cord attached to protect you. You get to explore verboten topics, subjects which you've never in a million years touch with a ten foot pole.

Yet one jumps willingly,from six to nine in the morning everyday because one person leads the covert operation to explore the human psyche. His name is kinda an affix for the twisted meanderings of a soul, wandering around in human form, experiencing joy and sorrow in equal measure. Mo Twister, what a name, huh?

Today's show was kinda hilarious ( was there ever a day when one did not find a rib-tickling moment or two listening to this show?) Trust the Twister to find a website like MyDeathSpace.com, an archival site, containing news articles, online obituaries, an opportunity to pay your respects and tributes to the recently deceased MySpace.com members via a comment system.

How about finding a listing of the Top Ten Hottest Dead Girls? Drumrolls please.According to Spike.com , Marilyn Monroe tops the list of the hottest dead girl. Sharon Tate, Aaliyah,Jayne Mansfield and Gia Carangi make up the Top 5 short list.

From creepy to dippy topics . .Did you know that there's a Guitar Hero Praise version where you can play along with top Christian bands? "Shred those riffs or blast the bass…you add a unique sound to the solid Christian rock.Crank it up and try again - you'll soon be rockin'with the best while praising the Lord!"

Can I help it if I'm glued to the radio and can't work anymore? These are just three topics in a three hour show! Oh yeah, the Mohan even threw in Alchemy owner Don Puno's wacky impersonations of Smeagol,Sylvester Stallone and the Governator Schwarzenegger into the hysterical mix, and you'd get a glimpse of what I experienced this morning. (By the way, Alchemy will have a 'Dia de los Muertos' or Day of the Dead Halloween party, so check it out.)

Oh right. I said 'experienced this morning'. That's the key word. The Good Times show is an experience, transcendental to some, completely idiotic to others.

All I can say is, like Marilyn Monroe, this show will be long remembered, even if we're all gone, skin and bones six feet under.

Like a comet that flashes by earth once in a thousand years, this show is such a rare extraterrestrial gem. I write and keep a diary so there's a record of what I've heard and experienced everyday in this radio show. In case a nuclear blast blows this planet into a million pieces, this show will never be forgotten. Out of the ashes,if someone finds this diary, perhaps they'll laugh, and know, and experience what bliss is too. Goodtimes!)

GoodTimes with Mo, Mojo and Grace Lee (Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus) : October 28,2008 show

Notes from Mo’s Diary
October 28, 2008, 1am

I’ve been standing around my pad for the past half hour, frozen like a bear in the middle of the Arctic Ocean when it realizes that the ice floes he has crossed on many times is now water. The polar caps have melted. He is stranded, lost and bewildered, with no place to go.

I’m home and yet not home. The clutter around my pad has started to annoy me, and many of the things I have around reflect a part of me that really belongs to a different time, a different place. Perhaps the garbage bin?

I see a Phoebe Cates poster behind the bed, and look at it fondly, for about thirty seconds. And then I realize that it’s a fifteen year old picture bought when I was in high school.Sweet Jesus! I have just turned 31 a few weeks ago, and time is a marching, brother! It was in marathon mode, while I sought cover from Father Time , dragging myself like glue, uphill.

I’ve been in this funk ever since I came back from Hong Kong and Macau. I noticed that our hotel room, though it was small in area, was so luxurious and yet functional, that I’ve wanted to copy the whole set-up to my own pad.

I now realize why it can’t happen in a million years. The hotel room didn’t have a fish tank as big as the gift given by Magic for my birthday.

Uhmm. . should I take it away then? But I like a room with a fish tank.

Perhaps I really need one of those fag hag friends of Mojo to help me with the redecoration?

Oh my. . . The thought of anyone invading my pad even if it’s to rehaul my personal space sickens me.I needed to sit and looked for the nearest chair.

As soon as I sat down, I jumped up again. I looked at the chair, and there was a Feng Shui and Health book Grace Lee sent me to help me out with the ‘ flow of energy’ of my home. Like the belief in ghosts, I don’t believe in this crap. (Which reminds me, I hate seeing all those television documentaries about ghosts and evil spirits now that November 1 is nearing. Hate it!)

Nevertheless, in case Grace Lee quizzes me on the artful placement of my furniture and to take away my mind from the chaos surrounding me, I opened a random page, and the title almost shouted at me: “Space Clearing and Clutter Reduction.”

“Review the thing you might have collected or stored under your bed. Old clothes you wore when you were ten pounds lighter, letters and photos that depict old times. These kinds of collectibles have very strong energy fields around them because they were imprinted with emotional energy; they can retain their original charge for a lifetime.” Holy S.

Ghosts are intangible roaming spirits while clothes and pictures and bed hangers are tangible ball breakers with emotional energies retained for a lifetime. Good Lord!

If my basketball buddies see me with this book, I’ll be called a wuss forever more.

Girls!!!!

Why are men and women so different?

I look over at my desk and look at my laptop. I sigh. I see the one constant thing that can’t be rehauled, refurbished, redecorated . . unless I sell it, or it gets stolen or it disintegrates because of old age. Men get crazy with computers, and women don’t. Why is that, I wonder?

What else drives the missus or the girlfriends insane? Men can amuse themselves with the remote on one hand and a beer on the other and zone out completely, not needing female companionship.

What else, what else? Oooh. A new car. There’s something about wheels, and shiny chrome that make our hearts palpitate, our mouths salivate like rabid dogs.

Girls? There’s nothing outside the family that excites them to bits. You don’t see women drinking around with their beer buddies, or slutting around for a new set of wheels. Girls go to the spa on occasion, the parlor ..uhmm.. maybe once a month? Girls are happiest when they can cuddle and talk about their day. Men go into their caves and never go out.

Women are a mystery. I log in to my favorite website Askmen.com and type in this question – “What Do Women Want?”Amazingly, Askmen.com has an answer, and when I looked at it I almost turned violet. Dance with her?

I read the answers again.

“1.Return her messages. Many women gauge a man’s interest level by how long it takes him to respond when she contacts him. If his response time is poor, she might assume he’s just not that into her.This doesn’t mean you have to send an e-mail or a text of epic proportions if you don’t have time; a sentence or two will suffice to make her feel like you care -- which is all she really wants to know.

2.Kiss her for no reason. As much as they love sex, women also enjoy a nice, deep kiss that doesn’t have any strings attached. This serves two purposes: It lets her indulge in kissing for the sheer pleasure of it, and it also tells her you want her, and not just sex. Yes, you’re charming and sexy and she loves being naughty for you, but sometimes she needs a different type of connection. To really do what women want from men, try a surprise kiss for no reason at all; she’ll love you for it. Combine this with a little hand-holding and she’ll be smiling for days.

3.Dance with her. Simply put, dancing with a woman makes her feel special. Unfortunately, most men are reluctant to put their dancing shoes on, especially in a public setting. Guess what? While she’d probably welcome the idea, you don’t need to visit a nightclub to dance with your woman. She’ll be just as thrilled if you slipped a little Marvin Gaye on and danced with her in the living room. This would actually be to your advantage, as you have total control over the music. You’re also conveniently located if the dancing starts to get dirty…

4. Dress up for her. Dressing up to take your woman out is an excellent way to impress her. It’s not about the clothes; it’s about the fact that you find her worth dressing up for. It lets her know that you think she’s worth that kind of effort. Besides, a nice shirt and dress pants can increase your sex appeal by leaps and bounds; you may feel overdressed, but your hotness factor will have magnified exponentially. It’s true what they say: Women really do love a sharp-dressed man.”

I sigh. Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus.

I remember this ground-breaking book when I thought about the differences in men and women. I still had some questions though, and I look it up in the Internet. Whoa! John Gray is still whupping it up with a dozen more books in the Mars-Venus series. This guy must have made a gazillion bucks just studying the difference between men and women.

According to Gray in his latest book 'Why Mars & Venus Collide',“men’s brains might have developed the way they did because cavemen and cavewomen had very defined roles to ensure their survival. Our male ancestors hunted and needed to travel long distance in pursuit of game. A man had to depend on himself to find his way home.

Our female ancestors gathered food near the home and cared for the children. They formed strong emotional attachments to their children and other women, on whom they depended when the men were hunting.

A woman’s brain has a larger corpus callosum, the bundle of nerves that connects the right and left hemispheres of the brain. This link, which produces cross-talk between the hemispheres, is 25 percent smaller in men. I practical terms, this means men do not connect feelings and thoughts as readily as women do. In a very real sense, women have superhighways connecting their feelings to speech, while men have back roads with plenty of stop signs.

Men separate information, emotions and perceptions into separate compartments in their brains, while women tend to link their experiences together, reacting to multiple issues with their whole brain.”

All that information was enough to give me a brain freeze. Wow! No wonder women yak, while men retreat. How about the gays then?

I was suddenly tired of the subject and needed a change. I opened my Yahoo mail and I open the messages of friends and relatives first. After that, I opened the mail from fans. Most were gushy messages pledging everlasting love and devotion to me. Whoa, what’s this? The last e-mail was from a young flat-chested lady who wanted a boob job donated to her.

I read the e-mail but could not finish it. I was excited. I wanted Mojo and Grace Lee to read this e-mail with me. What if each of us donated to fund this girl’s dream, ask a couple of doctor friends to donate their PF’s, perhaps ask some listeners too?
This would be so interesting. .

I hear a snore that sounded like 747 crashing on a derailed train. I look at my dog sleeping soundly on my bed.

3 am. Time to sleep. I then hear a sudden roll of drums playing by my window. I look out. Fireworks seemed to light up the sky. Thunder, rain and lightning! What a perfect way to start the day.

(Postscipt: Many of the topics in this blog were discussed by Professor Mo in the Goodtimes show today, specifically Askmen.com's "What Women Want"; old posters (from teenhood)that are needed to be banished to space; Mo's expressed desire to transform his pad into a luxurious hotel room like the rooms they were billeted to in China; differences between men and women and lastly, the mysterious girl who needed some bosom enhancement from a cosmetic surgeon.

I imagined what it would be like to give the Twister a book on Feng Shui for tips on how to decorate his home. I'd imagine he'll toss it aside as useless.

I also cited the groundbreaking book of Dr. John Gray "Why Mars and Venus Collide" to further stress the key differences between men and women.

Notes from Mo's Diary is a work of fiction, and thus Mo's thoughts and reflections on this blog do not reflect the real Mo Twister's views, but comes from the imagination and point of view of this blogger. Goodtimes!)

GoodTimes with Mo, Mojo and Grace Lee (Post a Secret): October 27 show

Notes written from a Postsecret.com Diarist

It's funny how Mo Twister mentioned Postsecret.com today, and asked listeners to call in and mention their un-mentionables to the listeners out there.

People have discovered it lately, thanks to the Twister, but it's actually been here for the past three years.Frank Warren is the founder of this award-winning blog, and did you know that it has generated three electrifying books already? Look it up - many of my creative postcards are in the books PostSecret, My Secret, and The Secret Lives of Men and Women.

I've listened to the GoodTimes callers and well, I wasn't really that shocked, although I noticed a pattern today - a girl banging her boyfriend's brother and a boy banging her girlfriend's younger sister. Oops, there's more.It's not just about brothers and sisters really; but it seems, a lot of single women are hooking up with married men in call centers; straight shooting men dabbling with one or two homosexual experiences, and that's just in one radio show today!

Which led the Mohan to be quite didactic sometimes, instructing all the women listeners out there not to leave their man alone with other women inside their homes for a long period of time, especially if it's a friend or a relative. It doesn't matter if they looked like dogs. A man is basically a horndog and can't be trusted with their pitiable selves. He talks about men, but boy oh boy, the Twister has underestimated us women. We can be the baddest asses too.

Is there hope for humankind? Is there a pure soul out there somewhere?

I heard about Grace Lee getting drunk last week-end, and let me tell you, I can see she's on the way down to sin city, or is one foot there already?

I'm writing this postcard because I've seen it all, experienced it all, and guess what, lost it all too. I've lost my husband, child, mother and many other relatives to adultery (why is adultery such a convenient type of sinful behavior?)

I don't want to lecture people, because I hate being told what to do. But just be careful, all actions have consequences. It's a universal law since the beginning of time.

But one thing I've learned, I can't hang out with negative people and expect to live a positive life. I love my friends, but sometimes the best thing one can do is just break way.

I have a responsibility to keep myself healthy and whole. As my mentor said to me : "Don't settle for mediocrity. Never let good enough be just good enough."

Enough about lectures. Just read the books mentioned above or just log in to Postsecrets.com; perhaps learn a lesson or two.

I did learn many many lessons, but by then it was too late.

(Postscript: Some of the topics in this blog were discussed in the Goodtimes show today, specifically Postsecret.com, and Grace Lee taking a tipple too many at HK last week. 'Notes from a Postsecret.com Diarist' is purely fictional, and comes from the imagination and point of view of this blogger. Postsecret picture courtesy of Amazon.com)

GoodTimes with Mo, Mojo and Grace Lee (On Stalactites and Peak Experiences): October 23,2008 show

Notes from Mo's Diary
October 23,7 pm

Seeing Victoria Harbour from the air and watching Hong Kong skyscrapers blinking like inverted stalactites always leave me speechless, a rare moment for me when I am at a loss for words to describe what I see. I am always awed by man's capacity to create something from nothing, to conjure a building that started from the wispy threads of an architect's imagination, now transformed to reality.

I see the IFC building from my vantage point,Hong Kong's tallest building,88 storeys high, the number of floors extremely auspicious in Chinese culture. I see the other tall buildings - the International Commerce Center,Nina Towers,Central Plaza,Bank of China Tower and One Island East. I marvel at seeing it all lined up at night, waiting to be admired, from a distance.

Another day,another trip that's work-related. We're flying in to Hong Kong for the Studio 23 Goodtimes show aired every Tuesday. But oh don't get me wrong, I enjoy the perks of traveling and wouldn't exchange this experience for anything in the world.

I look out the window and look at the differing heights of the buildings and thought of how serendipitous that the show's subject this morning dealt with the highest peaks, only this time it's on the best examples of human twin peaks!

According to Insider.com, Jessica Simpson was voted as having the best bosom in Hollywood along with Carmen Electra, Scarlett Johansson, Linday Lohan and Tyra Banks.

I made my own list of local celebrities and Maureen Larrazabal won (real or not, she tops my short list). Sunshine Cruz is no.2 and Grace Lee, who's now busy watching a movie beside me (is it Cruel Intentions?) made it to my no.8 list. Some of the callers gave their opinions, but I stood pat on my list.

I hear the pilot's voice over the intercom updating us on the weather in Hong Kong as the plane lands in Chek Lap Kok Airport, another iconic example of human marvel engineering. I buckle my seatbelt and straighten my seat, my thoughts on breasts and tall buildings dissipate as I ponder on the view outside.

I look out and say a silent prayer for my own peak experiences -hearing Bamboo live a few days ago, receiving a lot of gifts from fans during my birthday celebration, TV and radio shows left and right, night and day..

I thank the One - you can call him Allah, God, Absolute Being, Jah, Divine Being, Infinite Spirit. Life is sweet, and I'm extremely grateful.

"Time to party?" Jo, the Mojo, asks beside me. He was sleeping a while ago, but he's wide awake now.

"Yeah, ready when you are!"

"Let's go!" Grace Lee pipes in.

I smile.Mojo's hit it right on the button. It's time to celebrate and have another peak moment. It's time to party!

(Postscipt:Some of the topics in this blog were discussed in the Goodtimes show today, specifically Mo's impending trip to Hong Kong that day for their Studio 23 tv show and Mo's own list of local celebrities based on the Inside.com article.Notes from Mo's Diary is a work of fiction, and thus Mo's thoughts and reflections on this blog do not reflect the real Mo Twister's views, but from the imagination and point of view of this blogger. Goodtimes! Pictures of Hong Kong courtesy of flickr)

GoodTimes with Mo,Mojo and Grace Lee ( What I'd Give up for Bacon): October 22,2008 show

Notes from Rocco's Diary
October 22,2008, 9am

I've been here by the door since 9am, waiting for my Master and Commander, Mo Twister, to arrive and save me from - a.)boredom and b.)from myself. As you may have heard from the Big Man on the radio, I've been having a bit of trouble lately, gnawing on glass and nails, and yeah, I've heard it many times, my Lord Highness will bring me to a professional dog trainer next week to teach me a few tricks and boy oh boy, just to discipline my stubborn ass. I've seen how frustrated he's been, but hey, ever since my b)*##lls were chopped off, I've never been the same. Ever.

Hey, enough about my problems. .

Since 5 am, I've been alone, and as usual, my MC (Master and Commander) has left me with food and water. To make me feel less lonely, Master Mo keeps a radio tuned in to his show. I hear his voice for three hours, and it keeps me happy and amused. I just pretend that he's just at his desk fooling around his computer, laughing at articles he has read from his favorite websites.

What's this? I hear a break from his voice. I go nearer the radio and his Lord Highness was talking about Bamboo's song "Himala". I whimpered and cried when I heard that song yesterday. It's odd that many listeners were not able to hear that song. I could tell from my Master's voice that the song really touched his heart and soul, and I detected some tears from my usual stoic, unflappable dude Head Boss.

As quick as lightning, the topics change and I hear Master Mo salivate over the topic of bacon.

Bacon? My Head Boss loves bacon, so much so that I've even heard him say that he'd give up front row seats to a Lakers game with Pao Gasol playing for a plate of bacon.

My ears perk up, and I hear my name. What?

"I'll give up my dog Rocco, for a plate of bacon!"

"No way!" I hear Her Royal Highness, my beautiful Princess Grace Lee's devastated voice over the radio air waves." Give up your dog?"

"I'll give up watching Anne Curtis undress in front of me, for a plate of bacon. I'll give up being with 15 girls with humongous boobs in an elevator for a plate of bacon- Katya Santos,Rica Paralejo,Ehra Madrigal, you name it."

"Oh no!"

" Oh yes! I'll even give up watching Coldplay just for a plate of bacon."

When I heard that my Master is even giving up hearing Coldplay just to have his plate of bacon, I was then very depressed. If he can give me up just for a slab of meat, I'm in a deep shithole.

I hear him talk to a listener from Africa and Hongkong, the proper way to do a rescucitation (do it to the beat of 'Staying Alive'), a girl selling her virginity for $3.8 million dollars, but my dog mind isn't really listening to any of the topics. I was too devastated.

I ponder on my next move. I can tie up the noose and hang myself by the door, but I was too fat and lazy to even jump a hundred times to catch the noose and kill myself, so forget it..

I could just stop eating and declare a hunger strike, but Master Mo always brings me some extra treat everyday, and I can't say No to him especially when he tickles me and rubs his feet on my stomach.

I'm such a fat, spoiled dog, that's what I am. Perhaps a delicious plate of bacon is far more precious to him because I've been such a pain in the butt the past weeks.

Perhaps I should show remorse, be more disciplined, stop stealing glasses and nails and grinding my teeth onto it, and just start to behave like the most irresistible dog again. Yeah, that's it. I'll be the perfect dog, even if he is the Imperfect Master (I know of some dog owners who'll save their dogs over their wives.)

Someone opens the door, and someone calls my name. The show has ended already!

"Home! I'm glad to see you, you cute,fat English Bulldog."

I get excited and when I see my Master,Commander,Head Dude Boss, Royal Highness. .I whimper and scratch the floor. Master Mo tickles my stomach and I bark and laugh. I forget about hurtful words, plates full of bacon and what not.

I'll never stop loving my Master, even if he replaces me with Hormel.

I lick his face and he laughs too. There! Everything's all right in this world.

(Postscript:Some of the topics in this blog were discussed in the Goodtimes show today, specifically what 'Mo would give up for bacon'.Notes from Rocco's Diary is a work of fiction, and thus Rocco's thoughts and reflections on this blog do not reflect the real dog's views, but comes from the imagination and point of view of this blogger:)

People have been wondering if this is the photo of the real Rocco. No, it is not. I have not come across a picture of Mo with his dog. Photo of the English Bulldog courtesy of canada.adflakes.com. Goodtimes!)

GoodTimes with Mo,Mojo and Grace Lee(Bamboo Show): October 21,2008

Notes from Mo's Diary
October 21, 5am

It's five in the morning, and I can't sleep anymore. I'm here inside the Magic booth,and I have remained stuck in the same place I was in since last night when I watched the guys from Bamboo set up their equipment for today's mini-bandfest.

It was quite cramped but Bamboo Mañalac, Nathan Azarcon, Ira Cruz and Vic Mercado of Bamboo found a way to squeeze in their instrumentations inside the booth, and the whole night they were tinkering and finetuning its sounds, testing some songs from their latest album "Tomorrow Becomes Yesterday".

Was I star-struck? To be honest,when they tested the microphones and sang one of my favorite songs 'Kailan', I was very moved and tears almost threatened to trickle down the side of my eyes. The words touched a core deep inside me, reminding me of home and honor and duty to our country.

Bago ang lahat isipin mo kung nasa tama ka ,
Baka magkamali ka pa doon.
At bago mo ayusin ang mga bagay sa paligid mo,
Unahin mo kaya sarili mo.

Kailan? kailan ko gagawin kundi ngayon
Tao po nananawagan lang naman ako
Saan? kailangan nating simulan
Tao po nangangailangan lang ng tulong nyo.

Nais kong mabuhay ng mabuti’t marangal
Nagsisimba nagdarasal ako , tuwing linggo
Sapat na ba kayang itong sagot sa panalangin na
Maging pantay at patag ang mundo

Kailan? kailan ko gagawin kundi ngayon
Tao po nananawagan lang naman ako
Saan? kailangan nating simulan
Tao po nangangailangan lang ng tulong nyo

Kailangan bang ulitin pang muli
Sa awit na sinabi noon
Kailan ba kaya ako malaya sa gulo
Ilang awit pa ba ang kailangan tugtugin ng
bandang to

Kailan? kailan ko gagawin kundi ngayon
Tao po nananawagan lang naman ako
Saan? kailangan nating simulan
Tao po nangangailangan lang ng tulong nyo. ."

What makes a great artist?

I've always been curious about how people tick and create works of art in whatever form.I was watching the Bamboo crew last night. They seemed to be sensitive to people around them, very aware of their surroundings and yet they could detach themselves if necessary to express their art form through melody and lyrics.

I looked at Bamboo Mañalac,and remembered my co-hosts. If Mojo was here, he'd be salivating like a rabid dog, while Grace Lee would go loco coco on this guy too because he looks like Cheez Escudero. As for me, Bamboo can rate as my man-crush. Sweet Jesus!

The door opens and Grace Lee and Andi 9 arrive, all excited, their eyes aglow, their cheeks flush.

"Are they here already?" Andi9 screeched.

"Andi, calm down. It's 5:45 am.You don't sound human this early in the morning," I covered my ears.

"It's so tight in here," Grace Lee squirmed as she looked at the new configuration inside the booth, but she sat down at her place, happy at the unexpected tight situation, all the better so she could hear Bamboo sing live up close.

We were like small children, excited for Christmas to arrive.It's times such as these, that this job isn't just a job anymore.

I felt happy and content and just excited. People say I'm jaded, a homophobe, a piece of S, one cynical monster. It's not true at all. Great people, great music move my soul.

It's such a nice birthday gift from the station (I appreciate the fish tank also:).

6am.I can't wait for the show to begin. . .

(Postscipt:Some of the topics in this blog were discussed in the Goodtimes show today, specifically when Mo stayed late at night overseeing the technical preparation for Bamboo's live appearance the next day.Notes from Mo's Diary is a work of fiction, and thus Mo's thoughts and reflections on this blog do not reflect the real Mo Twister's views, but comes from the imagination and point of view of this blogger. Goodtimes!Photos of Bamboo courtesy of candymag.com)

GoodTimes with Mo, Mojo and Grace Lee (On Ghosts and Ageing Disgracefully): October 20,2008 show

Notes from Mo's Diary
October 17, 3 am

Ever since we've visited the old, haunted Clark hospital last night, all I've been thinking about the past few days is death and old age.

I was pissed off when Mojo accused some people of stealing his Samsung cell phone when we were talking to some Aetas during that trip. It's not as if he bought that phone with his money. In the end, it's just a phone and not worth all the anger and drama! He was such a diva that I wondered how he'll look like in twenty years. Old, gay and haggard, most probably. Grace Lee and I must have aged that day, listening to him go on and on about robbers and evil people. Once I sat down on the van going off to Manila, I was off to slumberland, wondering before I slept how we'll look like forty years from now. Still doing the same show? God almighty. . .

How would we sound? I tried to picture an imaginary spiel,of the three of us still doing the same shtick forty years in the future..

"It's now exactly 6:10am, October 20, 2048, and we have on board the ever beautiful Grace Lee, and holy crap, is that you Mojo Jojo? A mohawk? You're thirty years too late, you old homo. And is that another earring? You have like thirty two already!" I blanched when I saw Mojo's face very early in the morning. Do I need this crap-a-roo at my old age?

"Good morning Mohan, Grace Lee. Don't criticize my earring and mohawk, you twisted pervert. I saw a sports car, a low lying one with big wheels at your parking space.Remember when you said all those years ago that it's totally uncool to see an old man with that kind of car?" Mojo interjected.

"At least this old man has a young chick beside him."

"Isn't she your 11th grandchild from your third wife, Mo?" Grace Lee asks innocently.

"Ouch. She is not. She's my current girlfriend. At least I'm not pole dancing at night, like you,Grace Lee. It doesn't really look nice at your age."

"I'm not old. Compared to you two, I'm just 66, while you old goats are in your 70's." Grace Lee looked at us, still stunning at her age, while we two looked like old blue cheese left in a corner somewhere. Is it all those sunblock treatments Grace Lee splattered on her body all those years ago? She tried many times to force it on us, but I ignored her warnings about the sun's evil rays.

"Near death and decrepit," I added. "Oh well,at least in old age, we all wake up early. Hey girls, haven't you noticed that as we age, sleep becomes shorter? It becomes lighter, often disrupted by brief awakenings, and shorter by a half hour to an hour. Why is that?"

"I don't know, but. . ." Grace Lee's answer was cut short when the sound of a big fart completely explodes inside the booth.

"Grace Lee, you really deliver some nuclear bomb farts, my friend. Remember when we used to talk about farting and the fact that you've said many a time that you'll never ever fart in front of your husband. Now we're on national radio, and you drop a musical bomb every half hour."

"I did not say that!" Grace Lee shrieked. Her voice remained the same, which irritated me some.

"Oh yes, you did! I'm so sick and tired of your farting that I've asked the Junior Jocks to retrieve some the sound spiels we've done forty some years ago. For all of you listeners out there who've just tuned in, we're preparing for our 45th year as the radio hosts of Goodtimes, still the top radio show in the land, and in case you've noticed, we've been replaying some of the best moments during the last forty years. Oh here it is, Grace Lee. ."

The scratchy sound from the airwaves sounded a hundred years old, and a younger Grace Lee said it boldly:"I will never, ever fart in front of people closest to me, not my friends, not my husband. Ever."

" And guess who's the fartiest among all of us now?" Mojo jojo coyly asks the listeners.

"Ok enough about the fart talk. We're boring our listeners. Let's talk about your twin knockers, for a change. At least Grace Lee's knockers have not gone below her knees, as I've predicted all those years ago."

"Thanks to Dr.Vicky Belo. ." Grace Lee enthusiastically bobbed her head up and down, just so happy to thank her cosmetic surgeon.

"Who's 80 years old, but still looks like she's in her 60's," Mojo adds.

"Hey Joseph," I couldn't help but to point out a fact." You go to Dr. Belo, right? How come you look like you're 90 years old, when you're just in your 70's? I've always told you, the gay dudes' heyday peaks at 30 years old, and from then on, it all goes downhill by then."

Grace Lee sees another fight coming and so takes a caller."Let's take a call from our listeners. Stop fighting you two. You sound like a bitter,divorced couple as always, your love-hate relationship really irritates me this early in the morning. Hello, caller?"

"I've been listening to your show for forty years. Third time, long time, man!"

"That's great, man! What's up?" Third time in forty years? This dude must be in his 70's too.

"It's never up, man. But hey, I have a question. I've always been curious, Professor Mo. You've always believed in living in before getting married. You've been married three times already. Were the marriages better because you've lived together before the ceremony? This will be my fourth marriage too, man, and I'm in a quandary. ."

"Uhmmm, no. It doesn't really matter. I prefer a little mystery nowadays." I thought my life was more like a tragedy, but I didn't tell the caller that.

"But I thought as you age, the more you shouldn't care about how you behave towards your partner, or other people for that matter?" The caller starts to whine which irritates me.

"No, you should always care about how the others feel, my brother. And that's the reason why I've been married thrice, and Grace Lee has been in a loving relationship for forty years already. She just farts when she's inside this booth, never in front of her husband."

"Hey, that's not fair!" Grace Lee interjects, and pouts at me.

"In the end, it's all about love." Mojo has been quiet the whole time, and now speaks up about love. What does he know about love?

"Thus speaks the pathological liar. Do you believe the crap you just said?" I asked Mojo in disbelief. A gay dude believing in love. And a male heterosexual like me cynical about love at this age.

"It's really true.Love bares all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. You've never been in love, Mohan. So what do you care?"

"Very Gary, without an r. Unbelievable." I shake my head.

"At least, even if I'm very old and ugly, someone finds me beautiful."

The thought of hearing Mojo talk about love finally woke me up. Some more minutes imagining Mojo at seventy years old will lead me to a delirious nightmare, I'm sure.

I looked around and everyone was fast asleep, tired from ghost hunting. I've never believed in ghosts, but if they do exist, they're far more fortunate than us living, breathing creatures. Ghosts don't grow old, will never turn ugly, experience third or fourth marriages, never explode a farting bombshell, never experience a tragic love affair. All they need to do is find the white light and go on to their final journey.If they abandon the white light, tough luck! No need to age disgracefully like us mortal souls.

Sweet! I shudder at the thought of growing old. Maybe that's why I'm so critical of older people acting young.

Which reminds me. . I'll be turning 31 tomorrow. Isn't that considered old?

Ghosts have a fantastic life. Reality sucks.

(Postscript: Some of the topics in this blog were discussed in the Goodtimes show today,specifically when Mo expressed his disappointment at Mojo's attitude upon learning that his phone was gone,initially blaming the Aetas,later on finding the phone inside their vehicle.Grace did not want to comment in fairness to Mojo who was in Iloilo at that time. But Mo seemed exasperated at Mojo. Also,in a previous radio show, the Goodtimes crew observed some horrifying behavior of older people acting young - wearing an earring,pole dancing,driving a low-slung car with big wheels, hanging around at Embassy.

I thought it would be interesting to imagine Mo,Mojo and Grace Lee in forty years. Would they be doing the exact behavior they hated when they were young?

'Notes form Mo's Diary' is a work of fiction, and thus Mo's thoughts and reflections on this blog do not reflect the real Mo Twister's views, but from the imagination and point of view of this blogger. Goodtimes!Photos of the abandoned Clark Hospital from www.coconuter.blogspot.com)

GoodTimes with Mo, Mojo and Grace Lee (Notes from Mojo's Diary): October 16,2008 show

Notes from Mojo's Diary
October 18, 3:00 am

The mosquitoes biting me have become quite nasty, but it's almost dawn in this God-foresaken place, and I guess,those darn insects saw a fiesta when they saw me and my cute, fat behind sneaking in between parked cars.

"Hey Joseph, it's time to get going. Even the guards have gone to sleep!" My boyfriend has refused be a part of this evil, but necessary undertaking, and so, I had no choice but to enlist X, one of my FWBs (friend with benefits) to help me complete this dastardly task.

Oh yes, I planned this in minutest detail. I even asked for help in strategy and tactics from the guests last Thursday, Geoff Rodriguez and Tisha Silang, of Amazing Race 3, to listen to my plans and perhaps comment if my plans were feasible, or if I'd just fall flat on my face if I choose to proceed with what I planned to do to the Twister's car.

"It's next to impossible, Mojo Jojo. You have to have the nerves of steel to pull that prank.", Geoff looked at me with compassion. At first they laughed when they heard Mo recount the poop prank during Grace Lee's birthday, but when they saw my pained face, they stopped laughing altogether and fleetingly, I saw empathy etched in their faces.

"You have the brains to pull this off, Joseph, so you can do it! I've seen it many times in the race. Brawns will bring you in the door, but brainpower will see you through any difficulty," Tish patted me on the back.

So here I am at 3 in the morning, with cow poop in two buckets, ready to smear it all over Mo Twister's car.

I found a friend who lived in the same condominium as Mo in Eastwood, and he kindly allowed me to crash in his pad till two in the morning. From 2am on, I've gone down to the parking lot to spy on Mo's car, and seeing that it was in the same parking spot as it has always been, waited till the guards' security checks lessened to a trickle, and waited crouched in between parked cars,ready to move at a designated time.

Why am I doing this? Well, I'm just tired of Mo Twister's antics - I'm tired that he uses me as a dung repository, a target for his homophobic remarks and fat jokes, his insensitivity and general meanness.

I'm even absent next week during the celebration of his birthday. It's my version of a sit down strike, locked down, food fast against his tyranny and evil ways.

"Ok. Ready to go? " My FWB accomplice, whose name I momentarily forgot in the heat of excitement was showing ten fingers.

"Ten seconds to go?"

FWB nods. "Five, four, three, two, one. Let's ready to rrrrruuuuuuummmmmmbbbbbbblllllleeeeee...."

We ran like Navy Seals, and with precision, smeared bovine dung all over the Mohan's car. We each had a pail of cow poop and with a tiny shovel, merrily smudged, blotted, daubed brown goo all over.

"Happy Birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy Birthday, happy bithday, Mohan."

"O thank you, your diva-ness," a voice replied at my back.

I turned around.It was Mo Twister, smiling, and when I was about to throw a big chunk of cow poop to knock him down, he said, "And by the way, my car's about ten parking slots from here. I hid it over there. Did you even check the plate number of this car you threw poop all over?"

"What?" My eyes seemed to pop in disbelief."And how were you able to guard this car at this unholy hour?"

"How can you underestimate Mo Twister, the techno-freak? Of course I have a tiny camera installed in my parking space in case you put a stunt like this." He looked at my back and gloated, "I exchanged parking spaces with a dude who had a similar car as me.By the way,here comes the owner of car poop!"

The ground seemed to be shaking when a six foot tall behemoth thundered towards me screaming.

"What did you do to my car?" he screeched as I felt him pummel me with Manny Paquiao punches.

I fell, and saw the Mohan just laughing by the side, not even helping me. My FWB was nowhere in sight, that retarded coward.

The Twister couldn't seem to stop laughing, and kneeled beside me unable to stop, his body in convulsions.

"Hey dude," he addressed the other car owner whose car was now wrapped in cemented poop."Let's wash it down with water. No worries, this will disappear in 30 minutes. What do you say? Hey, calm down. Want a gum while we think about the best way to do this?"

The car owner was still ranting and raving like a crazed maniac all over the parking lot, but he seemed to calm down when he saw Mo beside me, finally calm after laughing his head off.

I saw Mo give the car owner a couple of his favorite gum, but I suddenly waved my hand towards Mo.

"Don't give that gum to him," I pleaded.

"Why?" Mo turned to me, happily chewing.

"I poisoned all your favorite gum."

"Really?" Mo said, but he suddenly swooned and swayed and fell beside me.

"It's not really poison, Mo. You'll just be unconscious for five minutes then you'll fall into a deep sleep."

Thus, we spent the early dawn of Mo's birthday, both sprawled on his parking space, catatonic and almost dead, just because it all started with Mojo's evil poop prank during Grace Lee's birthday.

When will it end? I'm so exhausted and paranoid, checking on what I eat, what I sit on, what I wear, what's underneath my car. I'm just ready to bury the hatchet.

"Hey, Mohan. Happy Birthday!"

He didn't move, and then I kicked him in the behind.

"What?" He slowly stirred.

"Happy Birthday, you homophobic, evil. . " but then I stopped."Can this be your last prank? I'm so tired of hating you.Friends?" I asked.

"I'll try, but I won't promise it's the last."

"Okay." But I'm afraid he didn't hear me. He was fast asleep, the sound coming from him sounding like a train derailed by a 747. Where did I hear that sound? Oh yeah, he sounds just like his dog.

I wanted to kill him the whole week after that poop prank, but after pulling this car poop prank, I didn't really feel good after the retaliation.

We talked last Thursday about auditioning for next season's Amazing Race Asia, and if we pass the auditions and we do get to compete, we'll have a lot of fun, a lot of fights, a lot of similar scenes like this.

Ooohhh, this guy definitely has an evil sense of humor. But you know what? It's harmless, really. I touched the poop for perhaps two seconds. Perhaps the poop experience is a way to anesthesize myself for bigger challenges in the future? Swim in a vat of dung? Eat killer bees?

What doesn't kill me will make me stronger? A mantra to follow via Mo Twister's wise ways?

I look at him, snoring like a babe. You know what? I love him like a brother and I forgive him for that poop prank.

"Happy Birthday, you evil, farting, homophobic. . ." but then I stop again and smile.

I do. I really forgive him. It's time to move on. Geoff and Tisha, move over. Mo and Mojo Jojo will win Amazing Race 4, wait and see. That's if we pass the audtions :)

(Postscipt: Geoff Rodriguez and Tisha Silang were the guests of Goodtimes today. As they bantered around the booth, Mo recounted the poop prank he played on Mojo. They all laughed but I detected some hurt feelings from Mojo.

While Geoff and Tisha were recounting their experiences as finalists in the Amazing Race 3 show, talking about tactics to get ahead, I wondered what would have happened if Mojo asked these two for some tips on how to retaliate the poop prank.

The results are hilarious and a tale worthy of a bad ass James Bond movie.In the end, pranks are practical jokes that can be good natured or malicious depending on who the victim is. I truly felt bad for Mojo, and in one way or another, Mo had his comeuppance in this fictional tale.Go Mojo!

'Notes from Mojo's Diary' is a work of fiction, and thus Mojo's thoughts and reflections on this blog do not reflect the real Mojo's views, but from the imagination and point of view of this blogger. Goodtimes!)

GoodTimes with Mo, Mojo and Grace Lee(Notes from Grace Lee's Diary): October 15,2008

Notes from Grace Lee's Diary
October 15, 6pm

Where in the world can you see such a spectacular sunset? Only in the Philippines.

I'm sitting by the poolside, here at Sofitel, waiting for my boyfriend before we get a bite to eat at Spirals, one of my favorite buffet places in the world.

I've been inside the restaurant and diners have been dropping by my table to greet me and have a picture taken with their trusty cellphones. I'm so happy to oblige, but I do get tired and I asked the pretty waitresses to reserve the table for me. I was just too happy to go out and feel the wind at my cheeks and just stare at that magnificent view until the sun rays disappear and the pink orange clouds turn violet, before darkness totally descends on the horizon.

I have a book inside my bag that I've been itching to finish. Obama's autobiography,"Dreams From My Father" is so compelling, that I wanted to open the book and just read right now, even with the fading sunlight,but the sunset at Manila Bay is so magnificent, that I needed to stop and just bask at the spectacular colors. Perhaps it was a sign from God that I needed to just take a breather and relax, collect my thoughts and chill.

What a week! I wanted to be with my boyfriend and just relax because I'm a little fearful about tomorrow's agenda. Although it's fun to go with Mo, Mojo and Andi9 at Clark to visit the 'haunted hospital', I honestly feel uneasy about the whole thing.

For one thing, I worry about Mo's hubris - his overweening pride, his utter self-confidence and generalized statement that he does not believe in ghosts. I've read many a Greek tragedy, and his superciliousness borders on arrogance almost. When I heard that he'd go inside the hospital alone and write the numbers triple 6 all over the walls, I cringed.

What if he sees one? What if he sees many? Will he go in the hospital sane and come out completely mad?

Hay naku! Boys talaga.

Sometimes, or is it most of the time? I wonder what I'm doing inside that booth between Mo and Mojo, and their topics border on subjects that would make the nuns at St.Paul go stark,raving looneybins.

Like today's topics, one caller called about putting the ring on the thing, and I almost shrieked. Do men really do such perverted things?

I couldn't imagine my boyfriend presenting a ring down there. Euwww! Do Mo and Mojo have these rings, I wonder? They were going at it,teasing me, until I didn't know whether they were joking that these rings have numbers, very much like rings for the fingers, and I was just dumbfounded.

The topic that Mo introduced next, about FWB's,or friends with benefits. . I don't have an experience of it personally,and I try not to judge, but I do get really get disturbed sometimes that Mo and Mojo have experiences that are really bordering on sexual promiscuousity. This morning, a caller even told Mo that she was open to becoming his FWB if he so wanted it.

Friends have often asked if I do get offended by my co-hosts antics (sexual or otherwise).

Can you imagine if I wasn't there at all?

I think I represent the majority of women who find Mo and Mojo amusing, but sexually depraved.

My parents and the Jesuits have taught me too well, I guess. This is Reality 101, but it doesn't mean that I'll become like them. I'm the voice of reason, amidst anarchy and malevolence.

"Lee Kyung Hee," there was a gentle tap on my shoulder, and when I looked at the back, my boyfriend has arrived. He usually calls my whole name when he sees me.

"Annyǒng hashimnigga. You ready to eat?" I asked. I look at his face, and my boyfriend's presence jars me back to the present, to ten stations of food around the world waiting to be eaten and a smorgasbord of desserts. He reminds me of normalcy, honor, loyalty.

"Yes. I'm hungry."

I smile and reached out towards his outstretched hand. We walk towards Spirals.

What will tomorrow bring? I really don't know. Whatever I've thought about Mo and Mojo this past hour, there's one thing I've learned - I'm tougher because of them; I don't cry easily anymore, and their taunting and teasing have made me a stronger person. I wouldn't trade these experiences in any way.

I look at the skies behind me. It is dark, but I see a hint of the moon coming out, peeping.

(Postscipt:Some of the topics in this blog were discussed in the Goodtimes show today, specifically 'FWBs','rings on things' and what I thought was Mo's devil may care attitude on ghost hunting. I wondered how it would feel to be Grace Lee, reflecting on some of the racier subjects she heard at the radio show today, her discomfort at Mo's taunting of ghosts and evil spirits by writing triple 6's on the notorious Clark haunted hospital.

I imagined Grace Lee cooling off at Spirals (one of her favorite buffet places as I recall),watching the sunset by the poolside, waiting for her boyfriend while ruminating on how it felt to be the co-host of Mo and Mojo. It would be interesting to write about it, because of their disparate beliefs and points of view.

'Notes from Grace Lee's Diary' is a work of fiction, and thus Grace Lee's thoughts and reflections on this blog do not reflect the real Grace Lee's opinions, but comes from the imagination and point of view of this blogger.Special thanks to Nina from Flickr for the amazing sunset photo. Goodtimes!)

GoodTimes with Mo,Mojo and Grace Lee (On English Bulldogs, Tattooes and Angelina Jolie): October 14 show

Notes from Mo's Diary

October 14, 1 am

It's the first time since my arrival from Paris that I was able to sleep for three hours straight when I was awakened by a ruckus at the side of my bed.

I looked down and almost gagged. It was my English bulldog gnawing and gnashing a piece of glass that he must have chomped off from the top of my dining table, and hid to grind his teeth in.

Holy Mother of God! This dog has been acting really strangely ever since his balls were ****ped off by the vet, and when I called out his name so I could pry the glass from his teeth, he growled and almost bit me.

No wonder I've been able to sleep. My dog who snores like a 747 that's just about to land in the old Hong Kong Kai Tak airport (the airport with the most number of accidents) was awake and merrily chewing on an inanimate object that doesn't decompose in a million years. Glass!

I'm now awake and stare at the dog. I felt helpless. The computer at the side of the bed was blinking on and off, as if luring me to open it and perhaps find a solution in the billions of pages out in the world wide web.

I flip it open and type "English Bulldog". I click to the dogbreedinfo.com link provided and read what I can about the ever growing mysteries of this particular animal.

"Although the English Bulldogs appearance can be somewhat intimidating, it is among the gentlest of dogs. Just the same it will see off any intruder, and few would risk a close encounter with a dog brave enough to bait a bull. It is described as a very affectionate and dependable animal, gentle with children, but known for its courage and its excellent guarding abilities. Bullheaded and determined, this breed can be very persistent. They do not give up easily. Bulldogs are very much a people's dog seeking out human attention and loving every bit it can get!! A lot of human attention is required for the breed's happiness. Some English Bulldogs can be a bit dominating and need an owner who knows how to display strong leadership and understands alpha canine behavior."

Reading it depresses me more. Perhaps I wasn't an owner who displayed strong leadership skills. I need a 'dog whisperer'. Help!

My attention got waylaid by a calendar widget at my desktop. It was blinking on and off at the date today - October 14.

When I opened it, fireworks and Chinese cymbals seemed to burst from the computer. Sounds like this come out when it's an important day, and I've programmed it so I don't forget. Oh no! Today's the day when I need to go to the dentist!

A chomping, gnawing,obstreperous dog and a dental appointment all in one day. Sweet Jesus!

If only someone could set up a business where "Dental Assasins"could be hired. They could surreptitiously drug a person who has a "gum whacking appointment" so he could be brought to a dental chair catatonic and blissfully oblivious to pain and dental suffering. After a few hours, the patient wakes up without a tooth and no experience of pain. Sweet!

Just thinking of "dental assassins" and sweet slumber almost relaxed me. I was ready to sleep when I saw my bulldog hiding again behind the chair at my desk. Did he get another glass while I was lost in thought thinking of dental assassins? Fearing the worst, I stood up and without a sound crawled near him. When I moved the chair suddenly, my obedient dog now turned 'dog ninja' was so surprised he dropped the nail he was chewing on. Nails!!! Holy Golly Moses.

It was the first time I tied him up, but I had no choice. It was time to make him understand that I, Mo Twister, was his Master and Commander, and he better get used to it. He was whimpering and scratching the floor, but I ignored him and instead pretended to fiddle at my computer.

He scratched harder until he tugged the desk and boxes of my files which I've been pestered to read by the staff at Goodtimes mixed with some personal files tumbled down to the floor.Should I now just wrap my hands around the dog and choke this pet of mine? When will this mayhem end?

Pictures from another age and time were now scattered on the floor.

I laughed and temporarily forgot my almost impossible dog situation. Pictures of girls I 'pleasured myself to'made its appearance. I picked up a tattered Sheryl Cruz picture. Sweet memories! Britney Spears when she wasn't yet fugly, an old picture of Rosanna Roces at her hottest, Cristina Gonzales, Nanette Medved, Rica Paralejo. .

A set of pictures tumbled out from another box and pictures of Jericho,Diether, Sam Milby, and Ariel Rivera tumbled out. Even Ariel Rivera?

A note was attached to Ariel Rivera's picture:

"Mohan,
You'll never guess whose picture I've offed myself to when I'm alone. It's your good friend who's going to pitch hit when you're gone in the US for your brother's wedding in the next few weeks. He has been my crush ever since I've seen him a decade ago.

Sweet revenge :)

Mojo"

I asked my good buddy Ariel to be the guest DJ for me when I go to the States for my brother's wedding in the next few weeks. Was I a bad friend if I just decide not to tell him that Mojo's collection of 'offing pictures' included him? Perhaps Gelli will kick my ass, and feed me glasses and nails like this befuddled dog beside me.

Oh my. .

It's 2 am and I couldn't sleep anymore. With the dog and Mojo's box of revenge at my floor, it was next to impossible to have a couple of Zzzz's.

My dog meanwhile has calmed down and he seemed to be sleeping, and with my foot, I scratched his short,stubby ears.

I looked at my laptop and a picture of Angelina Jolie flashed by. When I clicked it, my bookmarked page from Askmen.com made a list of the top celebrities who sell the most magazines, and it isn't surprising Jolie made it to the top. 33 magazine covers this year!Her next cover was photographed by partner Brad Pitt for the November issue of W, and pictures of her breastfeeding the twins filled the magazine.

I look at Jolie's pictures. . my mind wandered at this tattooed, former wild child who seemed to settle at domesticity with Brad Pitt.

I've never liked women with tattooes. It's like the tattooes scream that they're open for business. Dirty,skanky business?

But Jolie seemed different now. Which leads me to this intriguing thought pattern. Why is it that the most successful couples seemed to be the people who've partied until they grown tired of the party scene and settle for staying at home, curling up in bed and watching movies with the beloved? Is this what love means?

And will I ever find that person? Hmmm...

My thoughts were interrupted once again by my dog's scratching on the floor and semi-growling like he was chewing on something again.

What is it?!!!! I reached down and got his collar. English Bulldog was chomping on my new tie, the royal blue tie I bought from Paris that I was supposed to wear for my new ANC show I MO on Sunday! Ye Gods!! Was it right to spank this dog now?

He whimpers as if to say sorry.

Jesus! What a night, or is it day? I look at the clock and it's 5 am. Time has flown by so fast reflecting on recalcitrant dogs,tattoos and Angelina Jolie.I looked towards my window and see the sunlight peeping from the mountains off Antipolo. The city is still quiet, with very few cars honking their horns or buzzing by.

Time to go to work. I look at my dog, and perhaps from exhaustion, was now fast asleep on top of my bed. He was not chewing on nails or glasses, but snoring like a train derailed by a 747. Peace at last.

But wait. I have to think of the ultimate revenge for Mojo.

Goodtimes!

(Postscipt: Some of the topics in this blog were discussed in the Goodtimes show today, specifically on tatooes, Angelina Jolie calming down at a certain age and Mo's need for a dog trainer since dog Rocco has been chewing on glass and nails the past days. Mo and Mojo also exchanged a list of past and present celebrity pictures they 'squeezed off' to. One in Mojo's list is Ariel Rivera who happens to be on Mo's list of co-hosts he will tap for help when he goes off to the US for his brother's wedding in the next few weeks.

I found that hilarious, and imagined a night where Rocco the dog is creating such a ruckus, upsetting boxes with Mo's celebrity 'squeeze-off pics' and Mojo's 'box of revenge' all thrown into the mix.

'Notes from Mo's Diary' is a work of fiction, and thus Mo's thoughts and reflections on this blog do not reflect the real Mo Twister's views, but comes from the imagination and point of view of this blogger. Photo of the English bulldog is not the real Rocco, but from www.puppydogweb.com. Goodtimes! )

Goodtimes with Mo,Mojo and Grace Lee: (Back in Manila) Oct 13 show

Notes from Mo's Diary:
Sunday, October 12, 5am.

What a vacation!

I arrived in hot,sweaty,muggy Manila yesterday and my whole body seemed to burst in flames. Perspiration in rivulets steamed from my pores, and I was drenched by the time I got home.

After the cold, biting weather in Paris, arriving in Manila is like entering a Finnish sauna, although this time, there's no exit door.

But hey, home sweet home! I missed my dog and his snore that sounds like a derailed train sidetracked by a 747, and I missed the view from my pad. The parents were all relieved that I was back safe and sound from wherever I came from, but Mom all but cried when she heard I brought her favorite Diorissimo perfume.

I couldn't sleep and was too restless to stay in bed, and just gave up sleeping.I ended up wandering around Eastwood. The rays of the sun hurt my eyes and only realized belatedly that it was almost 11am, Manila time. It was a Sunday, and people were milling about in weekend mode, but they'd stop and smile, others would wave, some came running when they saw me. It was heartwarming to see folks just happy that I was back. Many would start clicking with their cellphones, cameras at the ready to take a picture with me. It's funny how the same thing would happen in Paris. The chic Parisians often stopped and stared, and scratched their heads and wondered who this ugly, short guy is being besieged by fans. Was I the Mini-Me Filipino version, a celebrity circus freak? My heart melted when folks (here at home or in Paris)go out of their way to greet me.But when it was starting to feel like a deluge, I smile,wave and disappeared from the crowd.

Whew! Being a celebrity could be sometimes tiring. I quickly ducked towards a movie theatre and I bought a ticket for the film Body of Lies. At last! Time to relax!The dark, enveloping theatre was cold, and it was a relief to be alone, without any fans bugging me.

Two hours quickly flashed by, and while I was mesmerized by Di Caprio's acting, I wasn't so thrilled by this movie. It was not the greatest Ridley Scott film. I loved Gladiator! This movie felt more like a novel, which it really is, before movie options were cemented. A multi-layered novel, Body of Lies has a complex, twisting plots and it awakened in me an interest to read about Middle Eastern history, the roots of terrorism and . . .Mark Strong. Golly, Gee. This actor, who portrayed the suave, but ruthless head of Jordanian intelligence is such a great thespian, and almost ran away with the lead role from Di Caprio.

I sauntered out from the movie theatre and belatedly decided to dash to my car. I didn't want to eat at Eastwood and be besieged by fans again. Instead, I wanted to drive around the city and get my bearings again.

I walked towards my car, and stopped, looked and listened. I heard about Mojo's thirst for vengeance, and his first object of desire was to smear poop all over my car. I looked around, then suddenly dropped to my knees and looked under. No, no, everything's clear. Whew!! If Mojo so much as touches my car, things would get ugly and there's no way in hell pranks between us would stop.

I start the car, and to be honest, I don't know where I'll be going. It's a Sunday, and the streets are clear. I can drive in top speed, and nobody will give a hoot about the speed limit. I cruise from C5 and ended up going to Edsa, and hot darn, I almost crashed the car when I saw this ginormous ad of Piolo Pascual for Bench. Is that real, or was that photoshopped? My God, I'm not a homo, but his wang looks like a huge cat is alive and sleeping under the Bench underwear. The listeners of Magic will have a blast hearing about this one.

Horns started blaring from the back, and twenty of us must have stopped for a mini-second to stare at the ad.

Looking at Piolo Pascual's face reminded me of Paris. The streets were literally flooded with the best looking species of man and womanhood on Planet Earth, and everyone was just plain gorgeous wearing their most fashionable clothes in colors of black or grey. Why is it that wearing black or grey seems to be the unspoken sartorial rule when you're in a big, cosmopolitan city like Paris or New York? Well, Piolo could walk around in Paris in that black underwear and still be deemed fashionable in that city. Whereas I would be boxed to smithereens if I did the same prank.

My eyes felt droopy and it was a sign for me to head for home. I was grateful that the car felt like a magic carpet ride and in fifteen minutes, I was home, splattered on my bed, snoring like my dog.

October 13, 1am

I woke up with a start and I almost dashed to the shower for the Goodtimes show, but when I looked at the clock beside me, it was still one in the morning. The trip to Paris really screwed my sense of time.

I was suddenly hungry and ordered a pizza from my favorite pizza place Brooklyn. God, my body feels like it's ready to go out and start the day.

I left the computer open and it was blinking. I was about to put it off when I decided to just open my bookmarked pages.

Holy Cow! I almost died laughing when I opened my Spike bookmarked page and saw the top 15 hot girls gone fugly. Renee Zellwegger,Kirsten Dunst, Madonna, and No.1 is Melanie Griffith.

According to Spike.com:
"Glory Days: Griffith was the original party girl. In the late 1970s she was best known for playing the sexy nymphet in films such as Night Moves, Smile and The Drowning Pool. She had a career resurgence in the mid 1980s with roles in such films as Body Double and Working Girl, showing that she could perfectly mix sexiness and comedy.

What went wrong? Oh Lordy! These days Melanie Griffith looks like a witch. All her partying and drug taking is etched onto her face. Griffith looks rough. Like that old saying going around, "you can put lipstick on a pig, but it’s still a pig."

Is there hope? Melanie Griffith should ask her mom, actress Tippi Hedren, for advice on how to age gracefully. Then, she might have a chance."

Bitchy!!!

Hey, what if we do that same list here for our local gals. So many sexy gals have gone fugly in a few short years. I could name a lot of names in a minute. That would be interesting.

I scrawl along to other websites and laughed at a 105 year old woman who claims to be still a virgin, but my attention zigzagged and my mouth almost dropped open when I saw a picture of a young, and really young Kim Kardashian at 14. Holy Moly! Her face looks young, but the body belonged to a Playboy magazine cover. "Jail bait talaga!" Mojo almost screamed. Ok, ok. Horndogs who want to see the picture should search for it themselves. But boy, listeners tomorrow should hear about this.

A screen popped out from nowhere, and I realized it was my pop out flasher which searches for the best news on the Planet. It screamed a headline that Jamie Spears is pregnant again!!! Then a picture of Britney comes out, and I realize that her latest album Womanizer is out. I clicked on the YouTube site, and man the video is out. Is she hot or not? The body is back definitely, but boy, the video veers on skanky.

The doorbell rings and my pizza has arrived. That's well and good. My stomach's grumbling, and it's funny, but I'm starting to get sleepy too. . .

Oct 13, 4:50 am

Good Lord in heaven! My alarm has sounded and it sounds like a fire drill gone bad, when cars are wheezing by, and ambulances are crashing towards each other because of a major disaster.

I looked at the clock, and it's 5:15. Time to move it!

I don't know what alarm Mojo is using, no wonder he doesn't wake up, but I use one that sounds like two planes have collided and I'm the ambulance driver in charge of ferrying 300 hurt, injured passengers to the hospital.

I rush to the Magic building, and was impressed that Mojo and Grace and Miguel's car is in the parking lot already. A prank?

I was very paranoid, but when I entered the station, everybody was smiling and was in a great mood. Grace Lee looked spectacular and her twin tower knockers didn't seem to suffer from eating Korean and Japanese food for a week. Mojo looked mighty pleased that I was back, or was that a ruse? Golly, is Mojo wearing a mohawk? It looked hideous and two years too late from its heyday look. Even Angelina Jolie's son isn't wearing a mohawk anymore.

I put on the headphone, which was whacked in half when Mojo avenged and threw poop back at us for that poop prank.

I looked at my desk, and it seems the good people from Flapjacks are giving away 100 free breakfast meals to 100 listeners of Goodtimes. That's creative. But how can a hundred people win in 3 hours?

Grace Lee was looking at the prizes for the 100 listeners and said, "Why don't we say a password so that the listeners can just say that at the door, and they can come in Flapjacks and eat?"

"Anne Curtis's mole?" I joked.

"Great!" Grace Lee smiles.

"Boring. How about Piolo Pascual's wang is. . . have you seen the Edsa ad?" Mojo's eyes are a-glitter dreaming about Piolo's cat in the bag.

What a mo! I wanted to say something else when Mojo interrupted me.

"Hey, Chris Brown and girlfriend Rihanna will be here for a concert on Nov.16. I'll be bringing an umbrella so that she sings ..."

"No. . . .!" I cringed.

"Hey guys, we're all here early, let's start the show right now," Grace Lee beseechingly looked at us. "No more fights till after the show?"

And so at 6:15, a first for us I think, we go on air.

It felt so good to be back, and speak, and it seems all of us did not go up for air until an hour later talking about so many topics which I've researched last night.

So many things were happening and from nowhere,there was an urgent telephone call for me. I take the phone call inside the booth. It was the most hunted criminal on earth, Benny Laden aka Bin Laden, and it seemed he wanted me to interview him about his upcoming book of poetry.

I had no choice but to interview him on air. The commercials stopped, and Benny, with a multi-million prize tag on his head was happy to read some of his poetry on air.

" When I travel through your soulful eyes,
and fly you through my magic carpet. . .
our love grows more and more each day. .
like love that crashes through the hearts of the infidel. ."

What a raving lunatic. When I said he was crazy, Benny Laden calls me a 'product of a mother whore!"

I let him rant on and on until his third poem. I didn't know whether to retch and vomit or laugh. I hope he can be the chief occupant of Guantanamo before it's closed by President Barack Obama.

Sweet Jesus in Heaven!

We still have a few hours to go and I'm fired up and ready to rock and roll. Hey, guess what good news I've heard. Anne Curtis has broken up with Sam Milby. Good times!

!Postscript: Some of the topics in this blog were discussed in the Goodtimes show today, specifically the movie 'Body of Lies'; Piolo Pascual's risque's Bench ad; the top 15 hot celebrities gone fugly; Kim Kardashian pictures at 14 years old; the news of Jamie Lynn's 2nd pregnancy; Mojo's new mohawk hairdo; Flapjacks giving away 100 meals with the unique password and Benny Laden tormenting the airwaves with three of his poems.

I imagined Mo coming home from Paris and just wandering around on a typical Sunday, watching a movie and acclimatizing himself to Manila again by riding around in his car, getting used to the heat and heartbeat of Manila again. Jetlagged, he doesn't sleep until he goes off to work in the Goodtimes show early in the morning, meeting Mojo and Grace Lee again after his quick sojourn from Paris.

'Notes from Mo's Diary' is a work of fiction, and thus Mo's thoughts and reflections on this blog do not reflect the real Mo Twister's views, but comes from the imagination and point of view of this blogger. Goodtimes! )

GoodTimes with Mo,Mojo and Grace Lee (Another Night in Paris): October 9 show

Notes from Mo's Diary:

I am sitting at Le Fumoir, my favorite place to dine in Paris. It's near the place I call home the past days, and about a hundred meters away from the Louvre.

The weather has turned chilly, and the leaves in Paris have started to turn red and yellow, the air crispy and toasty. Despite this change to cool climes, people walk about dressed in their most fashionable attire, so much so that I've stayed outside just people watching for about three hours.

It's 11pm again, October 8, Paris time and I sneak in to find a quiet place to open my laptop and tune in to Goodtimes. It's 6am, Oct 9, Manila time and I try to listen in if Mojo's on board. The eternal optimist, I realize that it's impossible for Mojo to be awake at this early time.

"La bièr brune?" a lovely lady server with a pair of terrific knockers asks me if I wanted some beer, dark beer, which is what they serve here.

"Oui. Je voudrais un menu?" I was famished, but before I could order, she was gone, leaving me by myself again.

Two more days, and I'll be leaving for Manila. I originally wanted to go to Paris to watch the Coldplay "Viva la Vida" concert, but they were a month early. The band was here last September 9 and 10, and the concert was a huge hit.

I mentioned in the show that I was also going to Paris to watch the Paris Fashion Week. When I arrived, the only remaining couturier runway shows were for October 5, and Vuitton,Chanel, Miu Miu and Galiano for Dior were the only remaining designers scheduled that day. Even if you put a gun to my head, I wouldn't really go, but someone forced me to sit in front of Chanel's fashion show, and just for the experience, it was out of this world.

Models strode out of a full-scale replica of the famous boutique’s facade at 31 Rue de Cambon, some carrying Chanel shopping bags rendered as leather handbags.How fantastic is that? I was at the third row, and my eyes almost popped at how the fashion house spent so much money just to put out this fantastical show.

I check the laptop again, and it's 6:40 am, Manila time, and yes, I hear Mojo. Thank God!

His voice drones on, but my mind isn't on it. I hear him talking about the Melamine infused coffee he must have ingested in China, and his guest, the CEO of Qualibet says that mood swings, migraines and tummy aches are some of the symptoms of melamine poisoning. No wonder Mojo was so bitchy that time! He was drinking 5 cups of coffee in China that day!

" Je voudrais une bouteille du vin?" Good God! My date for the night has been staring at me for a minute and my mind is in Manila, thinking of Mojo and his melamine laced coffee.

"Une bouteille du vin?" A bottle of wine? Baby, it's time to close the laptop and party!

"La champagne?" Oooh? She wants to get me drunk on champagne!!!

"Le Plein, s’il vous plaît!" She didn't hear me, but what I said was fill in the tank.

Goodtimes! See you all in Manila on Monday!

(Postscript: 'Notes from Mo's Diary' is a work of fiction, and thus Mo's thoughts and reflections on this blog do not reflect the real Mo Twister's views, but comes from the imagination and point of view of this blogger.Pictures of Le Fumoir from http://satellite productions and Chanel from themomentblogs)