Seriously.

“Huwhaaatt!!” screamed the three female readers who read Manual Magazine.  “You men are aaaaanimals!!!”

‘Animals?’ the men smirk to themselves.  Animals indeed.

According to Dr. Helen Fisher, author of the book The Anatomy of Love, the dinner date is a terribly obvious courting signal that is part of the larger human mating ritual. If a man shells out money to pay for her Value Meal, the woman should instinctively know that the man would like to study her anatomy. In fact, there is no more widespread courtship ploy than to offer food in the hopes of gaining sexual favors in exchange (And the operative word here is hope).

Let’s call a spade a spade: This isn’t a dinner date.  This is courtship feeding.  

Courtship feeding has a very important and primal reproductive function.  By providing food to the opposite sex, it not only boasts of our abilities as hunters and providers, but it also indicates that we are possible sperm donors as well.    

But before you barge out of your office cubicle, hunt down a wild cow, slaughter it and then tenderize it into beef patty, remember this about the female of the species: there is a thin line between offering them food and becoming their food.  

Don’t take it from me, though.  Take it from the male wolf spider. When the male wolf spider enters the long dark lair of the female spider with a tasty fly morsel, he must do this slowly and methodically.  If the male wolf spider gets a tid bit overeager, then the female promptly devours him. And this is not meant in any metaphorical sense. 

And I always thought that any devouring of body parts should be mutually pleasurable activity.

Moving on to things of more inconsequence, I am reiteraing my invitation for all three of you who read this blog to come to my book signing event for “Lies My Yaya Should Have Told Me, RJ Ledesma’s Imaginary Guide to Whine and Women” at Fully Booked, Bonifacio Hight Street on November 22, Saturday at 5 pm. Here are some of the critically-praised imaginary reviews for the book:

“I love it, I bought five hundred copies and gave it to all my friends!” – RJ’s mom. 

“It’s required reading! Especially for the editors of Manual Magazine!” – Alora Guerrero, PJ Cana, Mela de Luna, Suki Salvador and Monch Lopez.

“Go to confession after reading this.” – Pastoral statement by the CBCP.

“We will be calling an investigation.” – Justice Secretary Raul Gonzalez.

“I am filing libel charges.” – RJ’s wife. 

“Saan yung commission ko?” – RJ’s yaya. 

Lies My Yaya Should Have Told to Me, RJ Ledesma’s Imaginary Guide to Whine and Women (Anvil Publishing) is a compilation of my former columns on dating and mating at The Manila Times and my current column at The Philippine Star.  Read it at your own risk.  Available at National Bookstore and Powerbooks nationwide.  Please buy a copy now and help me pay for my credit card bills. 

(Originally published in Manual Magazine June 2008)

http://jasonmagbanua.com/blog/2008/03/09/rj-ledesma-and-vanessa-pastor/

I thought you guys might get a kick out of watching the very first Royal Tru Orange commercial that came out waaaaaaayyyyy back in 1988 (yup, twenty friggin’ years ago). This is the link to that website.  You guys might be interested to note that the first set of Royal commercials were directed by the late great Lino Brocka.

Ah, nostalgia always brings back the fizz in me.  

This commercial was posted by Jason Magbanua, an excellent wedding videographer who captured my wedding last March 7, 2008.  Incidentally, the link to Jason’s site also includes the photo montage and onsite video from our wedding day.  If you want to read more about the wedding, check out the blog entitled Heavensent.

Since we are on the subject of weddings, let me share with you pictures from our wedding by (insert your favorite superlative) Pat Dy.  Aside from wedding photography, Pat Dy is an excellent wedding photographer. He has has shot several covers for me in Manual Magazine, and he also shot the cover of my book, ‘Lies My Yaya Should Have Told Me’. 

http://blog.patdyphotography.com/?p=519

By the by, my wife Vanessa also did her share of commercials in the day. She was one of the Penshoppe models back in 1994 along with then-unknowns Paolo Bediones and Ryan Agoncillo.  Her ‘love team’ in the commercial was Paolo Bediones.  Check this out.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TULwbpk9f6c

Care to share your memories of the eighties, if its not too traumatic?

Dear blogging community,

The shameless self-promotion continues!  In preparation for the book signing of “Lies My Yaya Should Have Told Me’, my first collection of humor articles from Anvil Publishing, on November 22 (Saturday) at Fully Booked, Bonifacio High Street, Taguig, I scoured and stalked out several blogs to see what they had to say about me and my yaya.

Apparently, bloggers have a lot of nice things to say. About my yaya.

Spread the word!

Namaste,

RJ

From XT of  http://xteaboi.multiply.com/reviews/item/21 (originally posted on Oct 13, 2008)

Witty! Funny!Despite the ambient lighting of the coffee shop, I decided to keep the aviator glasses to maintain anonymity as I was enjoying my time laughing hard through the pages of this book. I know somebody from the other table was calling someone from the Mental health institute to gun me with a tranquilizer. Bakit ba? nag order naman ako ah!

 From Jaslil of http://jaslil.wordpress.com/2008/09/16/lies-my-yaya-should-have-told-me/ (originally posted on September 16, 2008)

One of my favorite pastimes on weekends is to “tambay” in NBS. I can’t control my urges whenever I get my hands on books. Guilty pleasures, I call it.

I was actually looking for the book, “The 500 People You Meet in Hell” when an orange book from an obscure area caught my eye. Hmmm, RJ Ledesma — I have never heard of him before. Tita Jas said that he’s that little boy from the soda  commercial back in 80’s. Haha, I’m not that old to even remember!

Oh well, hearing Tessa Arriola’s critique of the man is already a guarantee of my money’s worth.

This guy is very articulate, not to mention the effortless gab he writes which makes his readers laugh out loud. I never thought that a man as smart as him could be a manservant for the one who has his heart (Arrrgghh! I’m jealous!) and would do whatever his yaya tells him to do. He exaggerates stories but I don’t find him corny in any way.

I hope he wouldn’t mind if I post this part that really really really made my tummy cramp. Boy! I thought I’d die laughing! This is by Tim Tayag.

If (the girl) emits a high-pitched, song-like laugh like “Ahihihihihi” after you crack a joke, it means, “The only chance you’ll get to sleep with me is when we have paid the national debt.”

If she emits a nasal and snort-like laugh like “Hyuck hyuck hyuck” it means, “Oh my God, I am strangely attracted to you even if you resemble a body part that is best hidden from public view, but I’m not ready to sleep with you.”

If she emits an unmelodic and grunt-like laugh that sounds like she is choking on her own saliva: “Ahug ahug ngef gaak” it means, “I am soooo going to make your eyes pop out of your head tonight… TWICE.”

Surely, RJ doesn’t need a cartoon to tell his story. And of course, what more can I say about his theories about love god-knows-where he got them! LOL

From Bendz of http://bendzg.com/2008/08/21/bibliophilic-orgy-cebu/ (originally posted on August 21, 2008)

His book, a compilation of news paper columns of some softdrink endorser in the early eighties who’s trying hard to sound like Jessica Zafra (just like someone I know…). It’s more of a trash than a book. I think I was drunk when I brought that book to the counter as i would never shell out 5 dollars for a piece of literary crap. I could have just read a Dean Koonts, who’s literary prowess is equal to that of a pothead. (Now someone would loathe RJ Ledesma with me.)

From Pols in http://pols.blog.friendster.com/2008/06/lies-my-yaya-told-me-not/ (originally posted in June 24, 2008)

Lies My Yaya Told Me – Not

For those who have been reading my blog, you may be familiar with the title of this blog artcle. I had written about wanting to read this book by RJ Ledesma but was surprised by the shipping fee that was quoted in National Bookstore. However, NP read about the story while she was vacationing in the Philippines and offered to get me the book. I am thankful for the kind offer and am now able to give a partial review of the book.

I say partial since I’m about halfway reading the book. As my title implies, the book may have been titled lies my yaya should have told me but the content and subject of the book is not about that. I’m having mixed feelings about the book since my initial belief about the subject of the book were wrong, I felt a little bit misled. Having said that, there were some statements that were tongue in cheek funny specially the irreverent use of people in the social scene as well as stuff that were familiar to my generation eg the aquanet hairspray which brings back some funny memories. Some of the subject matter are borderline bastos – if I were unmarried, I would suspect that these are the stuff young men would talk about amongst themselves when womenfolk are not around. Eg, he calls PMS – Permissible Manslaughter and the talks about the subject of Victoria’s Secret.

The way he writes stuff is akin to reading a blog but he writes the comedy directed mostly to himself and his girlfriend as well as some portions directed at the yaya.

From Nikko of http://maallen.multiply.com/reviews/item/2 (originally posted on June 3, 2008)

okay.i think the book’s quite good. every pages will make you smile though not all of them will make you laugh out loud.:p hnn..but yes, it will definitely make you understand the opposite sex more.this book’s got some green content and i suggest that only the open-minded people read it..or those who are trying to open their mind.:))

btw, RJ ledesma, the author, is a host from the show The Men’s Room.:) what a very self-centered guy..sya lang nakita kong sinama ang kanyang picture sa cover ng libro nya.iba to.iba.

so there.over all, this book is good, i should say, even if it doesn’t make you laugh out loud since you’ll still learn something from it.:)

 From blue of http://chinablue16.multiply.com/reviews/item/17 (originally posted on April 20, 2008)

Entertaining. Hilarious … as in.

 From Madonnarrific of http://madonnarrific.multiply.com/reviews/item/49 (originally posted on April 13, 2008)

After reading this book, I am convinced that RJ Ledesma is the voice of straight men everywhere. He writes what most Filipino men fear to even think, with a witty sense of humor that rivals that of Jessica Zafra. In fact, RJ Ledesma could possibly be the Filipino’s answer to the fictional Carrie Bradshaw.A known funnyman, RJ Ledesma proves he is all that in this book. He has the wit and charm of a horny teenage Catholic school boy [which I highly believe], but an intelligent horny teenage Catholic school boy at that. His essays are not only funny [it's one punchline after another], but it is cleverly written as well.

Lies My Yaya Should Have Told Me is a godsend to boyfriends. It is an anthology of his essays that were published in the Manila Times, but more importantly, a comedic manual that deals with the most mysterious creature in the universe – girls.

From JC of http://jcbpbayan.multiply.com/reviews/item/11 (originally posted on April 1, 2008)

If you’re looking for tips on dating in the 21st century, or just about anything about the opposite sex, this small book is perfect for you.Basically a compilation of his articles in the Manila Times and The Philippine Star, RJ Ledesma dishes out a definitive (and at the same time drop-dead hilarious) masterpiece, lavishly sprinkled with his unique style of humor writing. Also, it’s primarily dedicated to one of the most influential persons in his life (up to now!), his yaya. To get a first taste of how he writes (and how he just adores and loves his yaya) you’d want to read his column at The Star on Wednesdays (where I first discovered his prose).

Funny, witty, and informative, his style of intelligent humor, rare as it is nowadays, will definitely sneak up on you and tickle even your deadest brain cells. Even if you don’t have a yaya anymore.

 From http://deeya-07.blog.friendster.com/2008/03/lies-my-yaya-should-have-told-me/ (originally posted on March 20, 2008)

No, I didn’t have a yaya growing up. It’s a book by RJ Ledesma. We first heard about it on TFC in an interview by Ricky Carandang. I promised my sister I’d send a copy as soon as I get back to Manila and I did. I’ve only procured a copy for myself a week later upon my sister’s prodding and now I know why.

Been reading RJ Ledesma’s (Yes, the Royal Tru-Orange guy from the commercial in the 80’s) book which claims to be an “Imaginary Guide to Whine and Women” and I am totally laughing my head off.

He writes so vivid and hits me very close to the heart. Personally, I feel very enlightened. Enlightened in the sense that I have an idea what my boyfriend/fiance could be feeling/thinking during my “crazy” periods, confirming that what RJ’s plight as a man is shared.

Permissible Manslaughter and Anger Mismanagement are two of my favorite entries. I don’t want to spoil it for you so buy a copy and laugh your heart out.

Now books classified under humor (that’s where I found it in National Bookstore) are not always informative but you’d be fascinated with the facts he inserts here and there in his article. I found myself saying “ohhh” and “ahhhh” while reading and I’ve never heard myself say that with medical books.

It’s a good read. A little steep for a newsprint copy but I do feel it’s worth the entertainment you’ll get from it.

From Jessica of http://badgefenol.multiply.com/reviews/item/6 (originally posted on February 13, 2008)

I had the opportunity to meet the writer (and have my copy signed), thanks to my job! haha. Anyway, its a fun read, quite scientific (yes, mind you with scientific basis). A collection of thw writer’s broadsheet articles on modern dating, and of course women.

I suggest ladies should read it, you’ll get a lot of (helpful) information on this one. Aside from the most memorable line “Men are imbeciles”, there are a few which seems inculcated in my mind. There’s a meaning to the way a woman laughs, the high-heeled reality about being sexy and a lot more fun stuff that’ll give you a good laugh. I’ve personally learned a lot from this book (honest!).

This might sound like a promo rather than a review, but i’ll say it anyway, quoting the author “If you wanted to forget about the problems and the government for a while, you should read LIES MY YAYA SHOULD HAVE TOLD ME by Rj Ledesma”.

 From Christma Anne of http://prettyxma.multiply.com/reviews/item/25 (originally posted on February 13, 2008)

It is intelligent humor at its best. A guide to men dating in the 21st century.

From http://iamnotfrodo.wordpress.com/2008/02/04/pseudo-bookworm-on-overdrive/ (originally posted on February 4, 2008)

The word “yaya” is Filipino for “nanny”.

I believe this is RJ Ledesma’s first book. This is apparently a compilation of his newspaper column articles and a few essays.

I actually had a lot of high expectations for this book. First, because the author is a co-star of the now defunct “The Men’s Room” on Studio 23, which was an uber-funny show in its prime. Second, the cover, which showcases Ledesma and his goofy smirk, makes for the impression that it’s a funny, funny read. And third, it was a really thin book and yet it cost more than my Zafra books.

So anyway, after reading the whole thing, I thought it drastically fell short of being hilarious. I’ve read better stuff here! It would’ve been so much funnier, should it have been written by one of the editors of The Man-Blog. Sadly, it seemed that the Ledesma I knew from The Men’s Room days are gone. Either that, or he can’t fully translate that perverted sense of humor of his on paper.

Also, the articles didn’t really have much lies and “yaya” stuff on them as I thought, which could’ve been funny. Which is kind of stupid, I know, but hey, I’m a simple-minded guy. What can I do?

Because I am a shameless self promoter, I would like to repost in my blog several of the full book reviews I came across of ‘Lies My Yaya Should Have Told Me’ that came out both in print and online.

And hopefully, this gets you excited enough to show up to my book signing at Fully Booked, Bonifacio Hi Street, Taguig on November 22 (Saturday).

Thanks again for the support! Namaste.

From Carlomar Arcangel Daoana of The Daily Tribune (originally published on February 14, 2008) 

RJ Ledesma’s take on love and all things similar

Since the publication of Kitty Go’s two delightful volumes on the foibles of high society, there has been no “funny” read to emerge that can actually balance the tightrope between acute observation and simply rollicking humor, that is until RJ Ledesma’s Lies my Yaya should have told Me was launched last Thursday in Archeology in Rockwell.

The book, published by Anvil, is something we have been expecting from RJ all along, if I may hazard a guess. His must-read ruminations on love, dating and things similar in the 21^st century, as chronicled by two dailies, plus his energizing touch that  transformed Manual into the only irreverently smart men’s magazine in the country, had left us guessing what RJ can do with the format of a book.

Lies my Yaya should have told Me is, simply put, a suave masterwork to this juggler of many careers. The first chapter “Love is a Four-Letter Word” blurts out what may be a fundamental truth about men: “They confuse sex for love.” From here, the author darts toward assembling objects that curiously set the mood for sex, which men believe they have wrapped in smokescreen. The author, as a fact-seeking journalist, takes a quick jaunt to Victoria Court and cyber-cruises in dating sites to report first-hand the nitty-gritty of love’s nether regions.

 His vivisection of Christian Bautista’s “Hands to Heaven” is, however, the crux of this chapter, as it betrays the underlying message in the song’s refrain repeated five times: “Tonight I need your sweet caress,/Hold me in the darkness/Tonight you calm my restlessness/You relieve my sadness.” What looks like an innocuous string of words is actually deceptive. Warning the “three female readers of my column,” RJ decodes the lyrics as: “I want to go at it with you five times but I hope you don’t make me feel guilty in the morning when I give you a call.”

The second chapter, “The thin line between love and insanity,” ventures into terra incognita: the wrath of a woman.  The “rusty pliers,” a character that will evolve to Darth Vader proportions as one reads along, makes its initial appearance here. Essentially, the stories in the chapter are meant to make sense of woman’s a senselessness when she is fuming mad. RJ, in a stroke of genius, realizes that “she has the divine right to get angry at you about anything because it is entire your fault.”  He spirals into another Dante Alighieri hell by knowing the fury connected with PMS and ovulation. I have never read anything as reverential when it comes to woman’s body rhythms.

Dating, as seen through the eyes of RJ, gets demystified in the third chapter, “Mating Games.” His almost anthropological approach to the anatomy of flirting (ditto the svelte seduction of stilettos), which RJ concludes as a failure of interpretations, is juxtaposed with a she says/he says repartee on the nature of woman’s weight, all meant to save a man’s precious extremities once the conversation actually creeps up. Describing blind dates as “the Russian roulettes of the courtship world,” RJ reasons that “men shouldn’t be allowed to go on speed dating without a license” and “women shouldn’t go on speed dating without alcohol.”

The raison d’etre isn’t served until the last chapter, “The Parent Trap,” which reads like a somnambulist’s recollection of a guy meeting his girlfriend’s parents for the first time while simultaneously glimpsing a vision of his death. It’s incisive, not to mention hilarious, in a way that it exposes the nuances of the uniquely Pinoy phenomenon called dalaw, the prelude to the actual pamamanhikan.

“According to the book The Filipino Family,” the author writes, “tradition dictates that parents command their daughters to stay in their rooms and plug their ears full of cotton so that they can face the young man and pulverize him without restraint.  And, even if your dangle has yet to cause collateral damage, the Q&A serves as a preemptive strike to ensure the preservation of virgin territory.”

 In Lies my Yaya should have told Me, RJ’s strength lies more on hyperbole than irony. There’s nothing to read between the lines and all the scenes are meant to be imaginatively relished (yes, even the dog fornicating with the author’s leg in a beach) and in some instances, cringed upon, especially when rusty tools creep up as a warning against men’s nonsense and such. It’s evident that the author dips his foot into the territory of fiction, but not only for effect: he finagles truths about the human condition—chiefly, the eternal interplay between a man and a woman—by enlarging and sculpting situations to suit his end.

 As the book engages with Philippine contemporary life, the reader will not miss the deft tirades of the author on politics. RJ describes GMA’s approval ratings as “scant as the outfits” which “nubile starlets” wore in his TV show.  It’s commentary that doesn’t leave a bad taste in the mouth, but interests just the same because it is so left-field, so dripping with humor.

For some, the author may even be considered as a feminist—a self-deprecating figure prostate on the altar of Venus. But he is, deep down, just an ordinary bloke who is man enough to admit, recognize, even celebrate the importance of women—not merely for pro-creation purposes, mind you. Because of this, RJ may come across as merely earnest. But if earnestness is his vice, so be it.

From Paolo Lorenzana of Philippine Star’s Supreme (originally published on March 1, 2008)

Randomonium

Welcome to the 21st century, where the sexual revolution has revolved off into absurdity—and where a Pinoy guy in his 30s can unflinchingly write about his inadequacies and pay homage to the woman who constantly provides him wisdom, mis-education, and towels to wipe his pawis: his yaya.

Sure, any guy would have reaped emotional scars from hawking Royal Tru Orange in an ‘80s commercial that takes totoy to an unprecedented level, but that colorful blip in a man’s life only proves to add to the wisecracking, utterly self-deprecating persona of Rene “RJ” Ledesma, which is what prodded me to purchase Lies my Yaya Should have Told Me: RJ Ledesma’s Imaginary Guide to Whine and Women over Pulutan from the Soldier’s Kitchen, a bar chow cookbook compiled by two Oakwood mutineers-turned-gourmands who’ve whipped-up productivity from incarceration—the former, way tastier than a serving of adobong hito sa gata.

A collection of his columns from the Manila Times (“Playing With My Tools”) and The Philippine Star (“Pogi from a Parallel Universe”), Lies my Yaya Should have told Me chronicles its author’s testicle tickling—and kicking—travails in the savage lands of the female species; one presided over by a girlfriend who’s privy to the law (she’s a barrister) and won’t think twice about pummeling his man-parts with a gavel, a mother who’s amusingly overbearing, and, of course, a yaya who acts as the cackling entity looming over his manhood and the bastion of his subservience to the fairer sex.

No, the holy trinity of girlfriend-mother-yaya doesn’t really stand behind RJ holding cold gun barrels against his head as in Iraqi captive execution, but all the campy imagination makes for a riotous read, anyway; RJ writing of the 21st century Pinoy man’s concerns (Victoria Court motels and chloroform, boys’ nights out and KTVs, and all the blood-pumping dilemmas of having a d*ck) from the hazards of dating and the task of appeasing girlfriends we don’t seem to deserve, no matter how smart, funny, and rightfully geeky a man is. Whether it’s weathering women through “permissible manslaughter” (PMS) and irrationale (“She has the divine right to get angry at you about anything because it is your entire fault”) or having to learn the secret art of listening, RJ channels Steve Martin, Dolphy, and pre-Duplex Ben Stiller—especially when he meets his girlfriend’s parents in an essay entitled “Let Sleeping Pickles Lie”, an allusion to slipping some discretion to a mate’s parents to avoid the pickling of one’s testicles.

We’re all pretty much on the same train to men-only Auschwitz when we deal with the women in our lives, but with RJ as our crash test dummy fumbling for propriety and his girlfriend’s graces, we can stand at the sidelines rubbing our bellies and laughing nervously at how much of an absolutely clueless and lesser sex we are. Ledesma’s Lies makes for great pulutan for the imbecile’s soul (that means all hetero wielders of the schlong) and it’s good to see one guy, as they say, taking it like a man.

From Rome Jorge of Manila Times (originally published on April 3, 2008)

RJ Ledesma tells all about his Yaya, The Tru-Orange kid and his expose about his nanny

He started his literary career here at The Manila Times. His column, “Playing with My Tools,” reintroduced Filipinos readers to RJ Ledesma, then better known for being that kid, Joey, in the Royal Tru Orange commercial (if you’re old enough to remember, you’re old—like RJ and I are) who was sent by his mommy to buy some suka [vinegar, not puke].

He also co-hosted for that FHM-like TV show Men’s Room. In his column entries, he intimated: his fixation with supermodel Phoemela Barranda; his dependence on his yaya [nanny/wet nurse], belying any similarity of television commercial persona with his true self—that of a scion of real estate development empire, Ledesco; and his supposedly henpecked and Catholic-guilt-stricken relationship with Vanessa, now his wife. Read it and weep:

The Comet that Killed the Dinosaurs [RJ Ledesma’s pet name for his girlfriend, specifically when she’s pissed at him]: Why do you keep writing about Phoemela Barranda!? You think I find that funny!? Every week it’s Phoem this and Phoem that! It’s enough already that I have to compete with your yaya sleeping beside you at night, then Phoem pa!

RJ the dead idiot: What does this have to do with what we’re talking about? Love, you know I’m just writing about Phoem for humorous exaggeration, and you didn’t have to let the readers know about my yaya . . .

- Playing With My Tools, The Manila Times, May 29, 2005

Later, Ledesma became Editor in Chief of Manual Magazine. And then he left to us to write for that other newspaper filled with star columnists. Arrgh. The turncoat! But we know the dirt on Ledesma. And so does everyone, thanks to his new book, Lies My Yaya Should Have Told Me: RJ Ledesma’s Imaginary Guide to Whine and Women.

They say it’s a bestseller, most especially after it was allegedly mandated as required reading for the rank and file of Ledesco. Friends of Ledesma (as well as complete and utter strangers) can expect to receive copies of his book for Christmas, Valentine’s, Halloween, and on their wedding, baptism, confirmation and circumcision. Sources allege that this is but the first in Ledesma’s quest for ultimate power.

Rumor has it that a movie musicale based on the book (starring Barranda no less and the dashing Andrew E as Ledesma) is set to be released shortly before the campaign season of the next elections, where Ledesma is said to run for President under a platform of free government-subsidized soft drinks, a ban on all meat products and calls for an orange revolution.

Oh, about the book. It’s kind’a funny.

Be on the lookout for special copies with centerfold spread photos of Ledesma and nanny. Do not open—not unless you value the meal you ate beforehand.

In it as well are insights into the Pinoy psyche—at least the psyche of Pinoy who’s a vegan yoga instructor, real estate magnate, Couples for Christ member and men’s magazine editor. Definitely, the author is your typical guy.

Already, literary critics have lavished praise on the book:

“It made me cry.” -RJ Ledesma

Kidding aside, the book delivers oodles on the science behind romance such as the biochemistry of pheromones and oxytocins. It also delivers realistic situationers about romance and relationship for 21st century Pinoys—like Catholic guilt about premarital sex and skulking about drive-in motels just the same.

It’s a must read, especially for employees of Ledesco.

From Gmeleen Faye B. Tomboc of Clickthecity.com (originally posted on February 11, 2008)

Lies My Yaya Should Have Told Me

If you walk into a book launch graced by Mayor Binay and members of the diplomatic corps, you could have mistaken it for the launching of a coffee table book. However, once I spotted Gary Lising and DJ Mo Twister milling around, I knew there was something else to it.

On a Thursday night, RJ Ledesma (aka that guy in the Royal Tru Orange commercial) unveiled his first compilation “Lies My Yaya Should Have Told Me: RJ Ledesma’s Imaginary Guide to Whine and Women.” Gary Lising, DJ Mo Twister, Nancy Castiglione, Sam Oh, and Jojo “All the Way” Alajar were on hand to read out excerpts. Those familiar with his late-night show with stand-up comedian Tim Tayag (“The Men’s Room”) would definitely know what to expect from this paperback – tongue-in-cheek humor.

The book is a compilation of his essays from his previous column in the Manila Times called “Playing With My Tools,” and his current column for the Philippine Star called “Pogi from a Parallel Universe.” The observations on pick-up lines, dating, courtship, and certain life-changing events, such as dealing with the parents of your girlfriend, are razor-sharp, laugh-out-loud (not just chuckle) funny, and most of the time, embarrassingly true. How else can you explain this passage: “In their more complex minds, women mistakenly ‘boys’ night out’ with cheap beer, voluptuous women, and really lousy singing. They’re wrong you know- the beer isn’t cheap.”

Surprisingly, there’s a fair amount of research that went into each column- RJ cites sources running the gamut of the president of the American Board of Sexology to books such as “Shoes: A Celebration of Pumps, Sandals and Slippers.” There are also sprinklings of political innuendo thrown in: “(My) girlfriend informed me that I had first to ask her parents’ permission to accompany her to the United States. If there’s anything that scares me more than GMA’s mole, it is her parents.”

Of course, the evening could not have been complete without RJ’s yaya, who gamely hammed it up for the camera with her ward. There are more observations on everything else than on what RJ’s yaya actually told (or did not tell) him. But after going through all 107 pages, you wouldn’t mind.

This paperback is a fun read because RJ isn’t afraid to poke fun at himself; in one essay, he describes himself this way: “I was already a thirty something who had suffered his first bald spot (oh, the indignity!) and finally gained the privilege to watch porn movies guilt-free (but I still lock my door).” RJ shares, “The nice thing about humor is that you’re able to tell the truth in a way that you can accept it. Luckily I’m someone who has a very low threshold of embarrassment.”

In line with the upcoming book signing at Fully Booked on November 22 (Saturday) or if you are interested to purchase a copy of “Lies My Yaya Should Have Told Me”, I am reprinting my Philippine Star article from December 26, 2007 which has several excerpts from the book.

If you wish to order the book online, you can pick up a copy from National Bookstore’s online store over here: http://www.nationalbookstore.com/shop/categs.asp?categ=95&mode=2&compact=1&page=6

Or you can also order the book online from Anvil Publishing at: http://www.anvilpublishing.com/bookdetails.php?id=2007000105

Thanks for the support! Namaste

I have an obsessive-compulsive disorder which yanks me out of bed thirteen times to relieve myself in three-second durations until I can finally go to sleep.  I resemble an elephant that has gone into a seizure when I attempt to play basketball. I walk with a hobbling gait that looks like I was jailed in a Saudi prison in my adolescent years. I pranced half-naked regularly in a late night comedy show in an effort to drum up controversy and resuscitate my dismal showbiz career (yet I can’t even guest appearance on Jojo A All The Way. After all the times I’ve plugged him in this column, hmp). And during one of those lazy Sunday afternoons when Lolit Solis was not dropping any bombshells, I was mortified to discover that one of my boys hung lower than the other (although after checking in with my neighborhood manghihilot, I was relieved to find out that this was perfectly normal). 

As you can see, shame has pretty much become a theoretical concept as far as I am concerned. But one of the revelations that I have blurted out in this column that has sent many a female reader scrambling to give the cellphone number of their psychiatrist is: Does he really have a yaya?

Does his yaya edit his work before he sends it into the Philippine Star?  Does his yaya even know that she is writing about her?  Does his yaya get royalties?  What does his yaya think of his fiancée?  Will his yaya be a bridesmaid in their wedding?  Will his yaya serve as a natural form of birth control and sleep in between them when they are married? 

And will my first book, ‘Lies My Yaya Should Have Told Me, RJ Ledesma’s Imaginary Guide to Whine and Women’ answer any of these questions. 

Hardly. 

But hey, it does make my yaya beam with pride when her name appears beside mine in documents other than police blotters.  I have purposely kept her image and likeness away from the prying eyes of the showbiz press until we finally get Marian Rivera to play her in the next Metro Manila filmfest.

And for those of you who would like to laugh at something other than the administration and are still wondering where you should fritter away your Christmas bonus on, I have asked my yaya’s permission to reprint some excerpts from the book. 

Lies about Boys’ Night Out:

‘What truly amazes me about my species is how we are able to rise above our mental capacity as slugs to prevail upon our significant others to visit a motel (and I say this in the most theoretical way possible).  I mean, don’t we already struggle with asking permission from our girlfriends to join the boys for a “night out.”?

In their more complex minds, women mistakenly equate “boys’ night out” with cheap beer, voluptuous women, and really lousy singing.  They’re wrong you know – the beer is hardly cheap. 

But with the impending threat of being reduced to self-love for the rest of the relationship, men ‘voluntarily’ choose to incarcerate themselves at home and watch the Maging Sino Ka Man Book One DVD with their women, when they could otherwise be enjoying really expensive beer.  ‘

Lies about Karaoke:

‘Far worse than our addiction to Sunday tsismis shows (You’re da best Kuya Boy) is the Pinoy’s inexplicable desire to sing truly sappy, romantic songs.  Admit it, my three female readers: during lull moments in the bathroom, your favorite pastime while staring at yourself butt nekkid in front of the full length mirror is to belt out a random cheesy song while singing into an imaginary microphone (my personal favorite is “Let the Love Begin.”)

Much like botched coup attempts, Pinoys have gained a level of immunity to cheesiness that would normally put other nationalities into a catatonic stupor. Think about it: We have kept Side A’s career afloat beyond an acceptable life span.  As a result, we often need a stronger shot of cheese to elicit any form of reaction. So we got Keith Martin to stay in the country for good.

However, I believe Pinoy men have merely rediscovered what our harana-warbling forefathers discovered a long time ago: truly mushy love songs have the ability to clog up the pathways to rational thinking AND cause hallucinogenic effects on both sexes (much like sniffing rugby or watching news on the government-owned stations).  If a man croons exceptionally well, despite his pockmarked and butt-ugly face, he envisions himself to be the spitting image of Piolo Pascual.  And if a woman thinks that he croons well, she then tends to reinforce the delusion.’

Lies about Comedians:

‘A May 2005 survey of more than 1,600 adults from the US conducted by Match.com, an online dating service, revealed that 70 percent of singles believe that they are most likely to fall in love with someone who could make them laugh.

In fact, it was sense of humor – not expertise in color coordinating one’s belt with one’s shoes nor building up one’s pecs so that they can use it crush castanas – that women cited as the No. 1 romantically attractive trait.

Now I know that God is just.

Because for every Marc Nelson and Will Devaughn and Derek Ramsey who have been cursed with sun-kissed skin, penetrating eyes, porcelain white teeth, rock-hard abs, and product endorsements that could pay off the national debt, there are the Vic Sottos,  the Michael Vs, the Vhong Navarros, and even – God help us – the RJ Ledesmas of this world who score with women who have recently collected beauty titles and high school degrees.  The average Pinoy must be doing anatomically improbable things, like kicking himself in the groin, asking himself how RJ had the gall to include himself in the list. Besides being awash with money, cars, and fame – save for RJ – what else do these funny men have going for them?

Apparently, “funny men” have the ability to boost the endorphin levels in women.  Endorphins are biologically produced chemicals that are probably the best way to achieve a natural high.  Endorphins produce four key effects on the body: they enhance the immune system, they relieve pain, they reduce stress and they postpone the aging process.  Endorphin levels increase when people laugh really hard or when they have scandal-video worthy sex – because of these experiences leave the person with a ‘blissful’ feeling. 

Endorphin production can increase to 200 percent from the beginning to the end of your sexual activity.  Since increased endorphin levels occur when you have sex and when you laugh, “funny men” hope to leave women temporarily confused and have them thinking that they are still laughing when they are already actually having sex.

But if you think about it, sex with “funny men” could actually be good for your health.  If he can make you laugh during sex, you might be able quadruple your endorphin production and end up becoming enlightened and immortal.’

Lies about Speed Dating:

The rules of speed-dating were fairly simple: Singles gather at a café or other venues where they will not be subject to much public humiliation.  Armed with a nametag, a “scorecard”, well-rehearsed answers to possible questions, pick up lines downloaded from the internet and a sparkling personality, the couples are paired off on their “first date”.  They are allowed to discuss anything except for their fetishes and whether or not they have been in long-term relationships with domesticated animals.

After three minutes of conversation, a bell is rung, and the coordinators tell the participants to move on to their next date or else they will be flogged until they have gone through twenty-four dates.  Think of this as fast-food dating. And the best thing about speed dating is that, unlike a vasectomy, you can always rejoin speed dating events as many times as your budget allows unless the organizers ban you for aesthetic reasons. 

Like prophylactics, the organizers assert that speed dating is safe dating because there are standards that must be upheld.  Women demand that the men participating in speed-dating are certifiably single, have a credit limit beyond P5,000 and have no criminal records. Men demand that the women have a pulse. 

Lies about Dealing with an angry woman:

‘Whenever my girlfriend gets angry with me, the image that comes to my mind is that of the Hindu goddess Kali.

In the Hindu mythological text Markanderya Purana, Kali springs forth from the forehead of the goddess Durga when Durga is in a fit of divine feminine anger.  The goddess Kali sports a frightening countenance.  She is dripping with blood and encircled with snakes while a necklace of human skulls carelessly dangles around her neck. She has a gaping mouth, a lolling tongue, pendulous breasts, and she looks just about ready to make this world her appetizer.  In this aspect, Kali is known as Bhairavi, “The Terrible”.  Thus, whenever my girlfriend gets terribly, divinely angry with me, it takes a supreme effort on my part not to soil my underwear and avoid making comments about pendulous breasts.

For my fellow males who do not want to become part of a necklace, there are certain rules that you must obey when confronted by female anger.  There are de facto rules that I discovered as I went through seventeen brief lives as a cockroach stain on my girlfriend’s floor.

The first rule is that she has the divine right to get angry at you about anything because it is entirely your fault.  Her problems at work, her lack of sleep, her constipation, her wrong shade of lipstick, her future wedding plans and her PMS – all these can and will be traced back to you. 

Complementary to the first rule, because your karma being born a man, the second rule is that you don’t have the luxury of getting angry right back at her (and she will remind you of this as she dangles her necklace of human skulls in front of your face).  Instead, you can just have the luxury of an aneurysm.’

I was planning to copy my book in verbatim and perpetuate disinformation for free, but my yaya made me kurot in my singit.  ‘Huy, mawawala yung aking commission.’    

But in the meantime, my yaya has allowed me to share some of the germs of wisdom that she imparted to me as a chubby,  pomade-wearing, baby cologne-drenched, khaki shorts-clad boy of twenty-one that would put Robert Fulghum to shame:

Do not touch yourself in public or else it might come loose and fly away.  Do not leave school until I pick you up or else a DOM might pick you up.  Avoid watching bomba movies or else you will lose your hair.  Always carry a panyo in your pants pocket. Always bring your ‘good morning’ towel if you are going to get pawis.  Always wash with soap and water after you make doodoo (If there is no soap, then you can use Wet Ones).  And, most importantly, whenever you leave the house always make sure your your t-shirt is tucked into your panty.