What happened last night:

Went all the way to Ateneo (from Paranaque) for a meeting that was canceled when I got there. Got to visit the lovely CCHQ, bastion of comics goodness, which I missed a great deal, not having been there in almost a month. Of course, I still didn't have enough money to buy anything... but they were so nice as to give me a League of Extraordinary Gentlemen poster as a "token." For what, I don't know. Then Quark showed up, coming from a stern talking-to from Marilou Diaz-Abaya about directing a "bold" film. He informed me that Gamitan had broken even, then bought me a birthday present right then and there -- James Kochalka's Quit Your Job! So I left with two gifts. :) Then I waded through fucking Friday night traffic (which really must be said like that: fucking Friday night traffic) getting to The Podium, quite possibly the most ridiculous and useless mall in the world (a stone's throw from Megamall and owned by the same people, it's a marvel in bad design, wasted cash, and excess). Horrible parking area (not ventilated, so it was like a microwave), with only four elevators that were agonizingly slow, almost nothing but expensive restaurants, P200 for a movie?! Why was this mall even built, anyway?

I'm getting off track here.

Mich had a show at 9. That really started at 10, with a variety show of sorts from host (and general go-to guy) Martin Nievera, and poor Mai-mai Cojuango, who couldn't seem to contribute anything, overwhelmed as she was by Martin, who would belt into song every chance he could get. The fashion show proper started at around 1030, and went okay. In my opinion Mich was lucky to have the best model of the night, Emille Espino. While waiting for the damn show to start I read Quit Your Job! standing up, and then a girl behind me asked me where I'd gotten it. I explained how to get to CCHQ, and she was even curious as to whether they sold lots of indies (the answer is yes). Then she said she got her Quit Your Job at Booksale. And for a moment, there was hope in the world. What are the odds of someone in this country even knowing who James Kochalka is, let alone standing next to them (at a fashion show of all things) while reading it for the first time because of a late show?

After the show Chris ogled the girls undressing backstage, where Mich's freaky interns Hannah and Goldie shrieked and cackled. Then we retired to the Pearl Drive area, feasted on pasta, beer, and California Maki, where I technically turned 22 and made the list of short films we're going to be showing next Friday at Brash Young Cinema.

And now it's 4 in the morning and I'm tired. Good night.