With special thanks to hosts Leanne Florendo and Aimil Sarmiento plus generous invites from Jaja Rama and April Rama, my summer didn’t just end up at beach resorts but at Formo, too!

The last Caribbean Party I’ve been to that was held at a bar was at The Site in Cagayan de Oro where they, too, placed white sand all over the venue. Tiki torches and small palm trees added much to the beachy-feel of the place making you feel like you are just partying at the beach minus um, the ocean! Last May 22, the Havaianas Urban Beach Party was just like it and more! The sand sculpture was my favorite.

There was Capoeira and fire dancing, of course. The place was draped in layers of white and Detalia Aurora was ambience found in chic furniture! Formo was really transformed that night.

Your very own summer soiree couldn’t pass up the chance to be with the cesses and of course, enjoy the overflowing Mojitos, Tribo Manila, and our Havaianas flip-floats!

April Rama of Formo and Clint Potestas from Sunstar Cebu. I got to talk to Clint for a while. Turns out that lifestyle writer of Sunstar Cebu doesn’t drink too! Haha. Cheers, Clint! Again, fun is an understatement that night. Thanks Big Seed Media, Formo, Leanne and Aimil for the best Havaianas party this Summer.

See full review here of the Havaianas Urban Beach Party. ?

And now Cebu will already know my sex lovelife.

My mom even found out about it. “Ate, may nasulat ka raw sa Sunstar?” I mumbled something about just a small press release and that I don’t remember where my own copy is. Whoops. What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.

I wonder if this will up the market on the men who stop by maybe this time more cute people will do…

Since my work is at 1am, and I am referring to my normal job in PS, I leave the house at 12am and hail a cab outside.

In a span of 10-30 minutes waiting, a lot can happen. Everyday.

A car usually stops by, a window is rolled down and a face that is hardly discernible goes, “Hi, babe.” I smirk, walk a few steps and turn away.

Or a car was persistent and followed me where I went. I shook my head and politely said, “No,” while muttering “Go away,” under my breath.

Or a black Crosswind turned around in circles and the driver shouted ‘psst’ until I gave him the finger and he stopped and asked, “Where can I take you?” between ragged breaths. Even if I’m running late, there is no way I’d be tempted to go. If he has the face of Steven Strait ,  I’d happily hop on without questions. Haha.

Or a car full of men drove by and waved and I waved back, and to my horror they stopped the car, turned around and asked me to hop on. I was late already at that time and doing 8 men in 30 minutes will make me later so no, I shook my head again.

Or worst, a woman drove by and… I shook my head again.

One time I was sick of the hoots and the pssts and the catcalls that I wore a tight polo, collar and buttons all closed, a black pair of jersey slacks and a pair of eyeglasses that even my grandmother would love to steal it from me.

They would still stop! Amazing. They don’t have respect for a lola-looking woman standing in the street.

 The funniest is when while waiting, a gay guy in a tank top and itty bitty shorts was powdering its (he was a freak show) nose when I happened to arrive and started my wait. He gave me a once-over, snapped the compact shut and sneered. Freaked out, I started to move away and stood on a lamp post when it hurriedly went to me and imposed its stance by jutting a hip and putting a hand to it. I stifled my laughter or else I’d get a good bashing so I walked a few blocks back and ran to an empty cab.

I’d probably make a better living just by standing for ten minutes, don’t you think. Imagine all the moolah I’d get if I’d hopped on to those cars. I would just give the money to the street kids that I also see lying on the road with only strips of carton as bedspread and newspapers as blankets. Its so sad they way they are sprawled on the street as if they are sleeping in a first class hotel on a king size bed with a 450 thread count bedsheet. Tsk tsk. They’d benefit more from my easy money.

Tomorrow, I’d be standing on that same post again, bracing myself for the cars, and the gay guys and the skimpily-clad girls and the street kids. Back to work again.

“Its fifty bucks for half an hour, and of course, 50 percent of that goes to the disaster relief fund.”

-Cartoonstock.com

UPDATE:

This blog post has been featured and published at SUNSTAR. Read about it here.