Lourd de Veyra:
Words and Phrases a Real Man Must Never Use
By Lourd de Veyra | Published: March 26, 2010
Pls click here for the original entry.
For original article, click here. By Lourd de Veyra | Published: March 26, 2010
Because, in the end, words are all we have, said one very, very dead poet. Last year, the editors of the online incarnation of the world’s most subliminally gay magazine, FHM, asked me to list down words and phrases that a real man must avoid. Here is an expanded version of that.
“BONGGA”—Increasingly becoming the most evil phrase invented in recent linguistic memory. Two syllables with the greatest damage to masculinity.
“ONE MARGARITA, PLEASE”—Nothing corrodes at the heart of manliness than a silly cocktail glass with salt around the rim and a sickeningly bright liquid that resembles diluted urine and bearing almost zero traces of alcohol.
“CUTE NG BAG MO”—Or just about anything that involves the word cute together with any piece of fashion-related accessory. Shameful minus points for familiarity with French and Italian labels and the words “fake eyelashes.”
I’M ON A DIET—This, along with “no rice,” “diet Coke,” “brown rice,” and that crime against all logic and decency, “vegetarian chicharon.”
CARBS—What, afraid you won’t get your own giant Bench underwear billboard on Edsa?
WORKOUT TAYO, DUDE—If brotherhood is truly global, then we must have the decency to avoid inflicting on fellow members of the species such frightening words.
“ROBERT PATTINSON”—Interchangeable with “Edward Cullen.” The fact that we are even familiar with him is indicative of the cracks in our fortress of manhood. Minus 50 macho points for any man who can provide spirited discourse on the Twilight series.
SPA—When the correct term should be “massage parlor.”
SALON—There was a time when the world turned on its tranquil axis and men got haircuts from barbers—in barbershops. It was a time of harmony and peace: rusty scissors and murderously sharp straight razors were used, and talcum powder, rubbing alcohol, warm towels, and an assortment of mysterious burning liniments were slapped on napes, necks, and faces. There were no such things as “creative directors,” “senior stylists,” “shampoo and blowdry,” and other silliness.
“BORA”—Ugly, lazy contraction of that noisy, overcrowded island with uglier reggae music and Starbucks. Takes on more emasculating levels when the “R” is not rolled.
“HINDI KAYA NG POWERS KO”—Nothings screams “Darna!” with more passion and silver glitters.
“GREEN TEA MOCHA FRAP WITH EXTRA CINAMMON”—God designed the male species specifically to avoid the consumption of overpriced drinks with pointlessly intricate ziggurats of whipped cream and chocolate.
“THINGIE”—Is it the insufferably cute sound? Or do you say to yourself, “There goes a sensible human being?”
“FAVE”—Sometimes, attempts at terseness tend to misfire.
“INTERIOR DESIGN”—Le Corbusier chairs? Mediterranean walls? Minimalism? Vintage decoupage screens? Mark Hampton? Muji storage shelves? Why, the cave is our natural habitat–and Orocan its only sensible furniture.
“TOTE”—Used in a sentence: “I tote I saw a pussy–not pussy cat. Just pussy.”
“LET’S PARTY!”—Manly men will get drunk, stoned, laid, beat the crap out of each other, swim in vomit, tossed unconscious into a cab, and wake up in a strange sidewalk somewhere in Montalban. But they will never, ever fucking party.
GOSSIP GIRL—Self-explanatory.
