Yes, I'm gay. I probably was since the day I was born. On my 21st birthday, I sort of had my debut. I came out to my parents. A little drama from mom, and some indifference from dad. An above-average coming out. Almost perfect.

Nine years later, two weeks before my 30th birthday, I found out... I'M HIV POSITIVE.

And so my story begins... I'm BACK IN THE CLOSET.

Sunday, January 31, 2010

TV Patrolled

It was the evening of Wednesday, January 27th. I was having dinner with one of my partners for a new little business venture, when I got a text from a friend. He was a friend from years ago, with whom my friendship is less tangible than the usual. We have met a couple of times before, but we barely keep in touch. But we’re close enough that I’ve been able to disclose my HIV status to him. Nope, he was just a friend, not a fuck buddy.

“Friend, can I call you?” The last time I got a message like that from him was when he needed to ask about tulo and STDs, worried that he and his partner caught something. So honestly, I was a bit worried again this time. I took his call.

He was in the hospital. Nope, nothing I had expected, just tonsillitis. And he was doing okay. So what was up? Apparently, the problem was that his mom had watched something on the news that evening that prompted her to think and insinuate that my friend had HIV. My friend in turn got paranoid, even though he had just tested negative just this first week of January.

I had to remind him and explain again that symptoms really can’t be relied upon when it comes to HIV. And I reiterated that getting tested was the only way to know for sure whether or not someone is infected with the virus. And with that, he calmed down.

My friend's response was typical. Partida, he knew about HIV before pa. I wasn’t planning on writing about it since I didn’t watch the news myself. But fortunately, or unfortunately, I found the news clip on the web. Be prepared. Watch it yourself.

Okay. I’ve actually met the two PGH doctors personally, and actually think they’re okay. But based on the report itself, I was disappointed. Just a number of points I’d like to make.

First point:
Fine, be alarmed that your HIV cases doubled in just ten months or something. But put it in proper perspective. It’s not really that more people are getting infected. Just that more people are finding out that they are. And that’s a good thing. Could the increase in your HIV cases just be because more people are getting tested? If you don’t want the number of cases to increase, then stop testing people. I think it’s beyond positivity to be thankful that more people are getting tested.

Second point:
No need to point out which careers or professions have been trendily diagnosed with HIV. It’s an unfair and useless generalization, because anyone of any profession who takes the risk should get tested. Could it just be that it is people from these professions who are smart enough to get tested? You should worry that such sweeping generalizations will give people a false sense of security to think, “Ah, I’m not a call center agent, so I probably don’t have HIV.” Again, HIV has absolutely no respect for age, gender, sexual orientation, social class, education, or profession. A risk is a risk. Just go get tested.

Third point:
Internet aiding the spread of HIV? Poor, poor internet. Could it be possible that because sex is such a taboo for Filipinos, the only place to get information on sex is on the internet, where those who are curious about it are left to their own capacities to absorb the information, unguided by those who should know better? I have three words: SEX EDUCATION NOW. If you can blame the internet, then I blame the church, the prudes, and censorship in all forms.

Fourth point:
The symptoms. HIV symptoms?! Is it true that these so-called symptoms may still appear even without HIV? And is it true that not all who have HIV have these symptoms? DOH statistics as of latest show that of those diagnosed annually since 2004, over 80% each year are actually asymptomatic. Asymptomatic… ergo sans of symptoms. To me, 80% means your symptoms list is crap. The only way to know your HIV status is to get tested. No need to wait for the so-called symptoms... by that time, it may be too late.

Fifth point:
The possibility of 20,000 HIV-positive Filipinos by 2020? Do you mean 20,000 confirmed? Could there be a total of 20,000 as of today already HIV-positive including those who do not know their HIV-status? And is it possible that they do not know because they haven’t gotten tested, thanks to believing all the generalizations and thinking they are far from the virus?

So there. Just some questions that need to be answered. Some have been pleased about the coverage despite the misinformation, just because the topic is being discussed. They say it encourages people to think. But when misinformation is seemingly endorsed by doctors, the Philippine General Hospital, and the Department of Health itself, is it not more possible that people will take the information at face value and believe everything that is said? Should we not and can we not demand more accurate information?

More reports have been shown and more has been said since that day, but just this one report has been enough to deserve utmost attention. One big sigh. I’ve always said that I’m a true-blue Kapamilya. But right now, I’m disappointed. Tsk, tsk, tsk.


Wednesday, January 27, 2010

Like Poles Attract

Another weekend passed by. But it was far from my usual weekend of just lazing around at home and taking a breather from a week of work. I did spend Friday night and most of early Saturday just home recharging… but I was really getting ready for a night of epic proportions.

Another weekend passed by... and it was like a whirlwind.

It seems my weekends have become more active than usual, thanks to the little group of HIV-positive friends we’ve formed. Again, we’re not a formal group. We had HIV in common, and the RITM. But really, we were just friends and friends of friends. Simple as that.

For the past few occasions that we’ve met, the most that we’ve ever been is seven, which happened on each of first three times we went out. It was never the same seven people though. Just a little coincidence. I thought it’d be a pattern, but the fourth time, we were below quota at six. There went my theory.

This time it was going to be different. I don’t know exactly what was up with this weekend, but a lot of us were game to meet up. In the planning stages, up to 10 people were confirmed to come, with a good 5 or 6 more new guys invited. Of course, 10 minds working towards a common goal was difficult enough. Just deciding what time, where to meet, what movie to watch and where to eat was almost hell. Thankfully, the place and time got worked out, so by hook or by crook, it was happening.

So by 5:30 pm of Saturday, I was at the meeting place. I met the BruskoBoy among us, who got there first. Soon, RedApple and his friend got there. And then O. And then BFF-in-law, followed shortly by BFF. And then Positive’sStory. Already we were past our usual quorum at eight. We somehow were able to agree upon Japanese food. Soon, W showed up. And surprise, surprise, Papi showed up. Trese brought up the rear. Eleven?! Ten positives and Papi in a public place? I swear, no one could ever guess it was possible.

Okay, I apologize if I can’t openly disclose exactly where we were and where we ate. It’s because every so often, one of us would see someone he knew, and I’d rather stay away from the possibility of indirectly exposing someone’s identity, if someone just managed to put two and two together. It’s not common to see such a big group. Not to mention we weren’t exactly the type of group that was quietly blending into the crowd. We were somehow eleven huge characters.

After dinner, it was clear that a movie would not get agreed upon, with some saying they’d already watched this and that, and saying that this movie was dragging and that movie was bad. Downside I guess of being eleven in a group. Eleven opinions that won’t necessarily always jive. But it was all good.

After a lot of stalling, with one of us needing to head off for work, the ten of us left headed off for some night life. I know... I’m not exactly the night life kind of guy. But being part of a sizeable group was my safety blanket. Gulp still.

We ended up in a Malate-type place, that wasn’t in Malate. Scary that it was still that type of gimmick, but sans the snooty Malate atmosphere made it a bit better. I didn’t know though what to expect. The bit of wine we had before charging the place helped a bit. I was as ready as I’d ever be.

As it turned out, we got there early, being one of only two tables occupied at the time. I appreciated the space, though. Much unlike the few Malate experiences I’ve had, places so jam-packed that you’d be sharing your breathing space with four other people. Argh. Even at the peak hours past midnight, it still was nowhere near the density of people in Malate. I loooooved it. People could actually dance without having their knees fused together by the end of the night.

Grooving. Loud music. Smoke-filled air. Half-naked hunks dancing upon ledges. Gay impersonators. It all made for a fun night. Of course, alcohol was part of the equation for some of us, but everyone was within their limits. I can confidently say none of us was butt drunk in the end. To one extreme, one of us was enjoying the music, the dancing and the company with just a couple of glasses of pineapple juice. Others were having mixed drinks. Others, myself included, had beer... in numbers nowhere near my maximum capacity. Yep, that’s my defense. Hehe.

It was all good. Except the part where Papi kept rubbing in that he’d had sex with one of the half-naked guys dancing on the ledge some time ago. Imagine my eyes rolling into the back of my head. But sige na, I will choose my battles. I will blame it on the a-a-a-a-a-alcohol. And everything shall remain all good.

So there. By the end of the evening, which was morning already, six of us were left having breakfast, exchanging stories and jokes at one of the few 24-hour places we could think of. I got home past 6 in the morning I think. I know... the sun was up already. I don’t even remember the last time this happened, if it’s happened at all.

I know we were just 10 positives and Papi. Even if you include GreenMan, E, and some others whom we’ve invited to tag along, right now there isn’t even 20 of us so far. That’s like less than 5% of RITM’s roster of HIV-positives, and less than 0.5% of the national registry. Our group is tiny. Insignificant. And I know you might be wondering why our little group is such a big deal to us.

Being almost all HIV-positive is a big factor. I mean it probably gives each one of us such comfort to be able to openly talk about health, side effects, CD4 counts, and what not. But of course we’re not limited to just HIV-related stuff. Primarily, we are human beings, so we do talk about family, relationships, sex, work, jokes, bullshit and everything else under the sun as well.

We’re like a support group. But unlike our usual NGOs who call themselves “support groups” we don’t get together for the attention, to sex things up amongst ourselves, or for any funding. We’re unadulterated. We are friends. We’re just choosing to be happy... together. And I can say we truly support and care for each other. Now that’s a real support group. Who ever said like poles repel?

So there. If I was to sum up the more than 12 hours we spent together, uhm, caring for and supporting each other... and gimmicking as well, I have only three words: Fun, fun and fun. Till next time boys.


Saturday, January 16, 2010

It's Complicated

It's ComplicatedI’ve been barely half a year, I think, on Facebook. I know, right? When Facebook was gaining popularity, I was still trying to get a hang of Friendster. And thus, my being a late bloomer with respect to Facebook. But already, I know, Facebook statuses are deadly. One little peep, and practically the whole world knows.

Papi and I have been witness to that. And not in an entirely good way, unfortunately. It's been... uhm... complicated.

In a Relationship with Papi

Like I mentioned before, this status started out as a little game for us both. I mean, yeah, I was attracted to him, but we weren’t committed at the time, but agreed to have fun and link openly on Facebook. After that, was the only time we had our first date. And the relationship status suddenly became more real than what it used to be. That was back sometime in September. And the rest was history.

I do have some friends on Facebook with whom I’m not yet open about my homosexuality. Classmates from high school, classmates from college, former officemates, and a cousin even. It’s not like I still claim to them to this day that I’m straight. It’s more like I never told them that I was gay because I had lost touch.

So was I afraid of what they’d think? Not really. I am gay, for heaven’s sake. My mom knows it. My dad knew it. I’m pretty sure my siblings know it. So really, it wouldn’t really matter who else found out. But even with that revelation splashed all over my Facebook profile, no one ever dared ask about it. At least, no one that I would’ve expected to wonder about it.


Papi and I have really still been in the getting to know each other stage. Lately, we’ve been discovering a lot of stuff about each other. But on one fateful Monday, the discoveries took a bad turn. Without going into details, let’s just say Papi and I had a bit of a confrontation. Nothing violent, just laying all the cards on the table. We were able to be open with each other about things and I appreciated his honesty, which left me feeling sorrow instead of anger.

The first person I talked to about it was Jinjin. I thought I could tell him because he was my friend, unlike others who were friends of both Papi and I. Tearing the friends we shared apart was never an option for me. I just won’t have it. So I turned to Jinjin, who was completely supportive as I poured my heart out.

Next person I told was E, who was absolutely and positively thrilled at the news. Why was he so happy? As much I’d like to believe that he had a hidden crush on me, he doesn’t. Hahaha. It was more like he wanted me back onto the meat market so he’d have a slut buddy around for his adventures. It pisses him off that much that I’ve been such a good boy and that I’m useless when it comes to cruising and excitement. So the prospect of having me back in the dating scene left him giddy. Such a sweet friend, isn't he? Hehe.

That evening, BFF wanted to meet up, but I declined saying I needed to rest. I just wasn’t in the mood. I wasn’t ready to cry on BFF’s shoulder either, since he was of course Papi-approved. I just didn’t want him to have to take sides. Even W felt something was wrong just based on our quick chat. By the time the evening was drawing to a close, I had Nina singing I Love You, Goodbye, as I changed my Facebook status to “Single”, with tears rolling down my face. BFF may have been the first to see the development, sending me a message of sympathy late that evening.

It’s Complicated with Papi

The next day, I took the afternoon off from work. I promised to take W to RITM for his first consultation with the Doctor. Had I not promised, I would not have wanted to go to RITM. It reminded me too much of Papi. Nor would I want to see any of our common friends there and have to explain what happened. And most of all, I didn’t think I was ready for the risk of seeing Papi himself.

W and I needed to retreat to the back office while waiting for his appointment. Getting there, I greeted everyone I knew, as one of my “kids” pulled me into a smaller room saying he had a surprise. And a surprise it was. I felt the world just stop. Papi was there.

I wasn’t angry. I was indifferent, or at least I thought I was trying to be. I tried to give him a look that meant, “Don’t worry. I’ll be okay. We’ll be okay. You be okay.” But he pulled me towards him in a tight hug. I know it shouldn’t have been the case at that moment, but it still was heaven for me to see him, honestly, and I hugged back, thinking it might be the last time I could do it. But he wouldn’t let go.

I was really a bit confused at that time. Was it pity? Was it his way of making sure I didn’t make a scene? Was it me, or was he wooing me back? And was I giving in?

One thing I’m sure of is that that afternoon spent in the RITM was no different from any other. Papi and I hung out together and with all of our friends there. It was as if nothing had happened. And it was nice actually. I mean, we didn’t really have time on our own to discuss stuff, and never really settled anything definitively, but I think it was the foundation of friendship we had built that allowed us to be civil. Oh, and I got a quick smack on the lips before we parted ways. Hmm.

When I got home, I changed my relationship status on Facebook once again. It was complicated indeed, being that we hadn’t really gotten the chance to talk much. The good thing about it was that no doors were closed. And we will talk eventually. So I dared to click “It’s complicated with Papi”, subject of course to approval from his side. I was surprised to find the next day that he confirmed my status.

It felt pretty good that he still was open to be publicly associated to me, even though it was technically still under the premise of complications. It will be a lot of explaining to people who will notice our status. But let it be suffice to say that all is not over. We’ll work something out, not to worry.

It's ComplicatedSo there. That’s what’s been happening. In Facebook relationship status terms, going from “in a relationship” to “single” to “it’s complicated” in a span of 24 hours. Not all good. But not all bad either. I’m still a bit sad somehow, but happy about how things have turned out so far. Labo ba? Basta. Uhm… it’s complicated.


Monday, January 11, 2010

I'd Rather Hear the Truth...

I like the way you wanted me
Every night for so long baby
I like the way you needed me
Every time things got rocky

I was believing in you
Was I mistaken do you say
Do you say what you mean
I want our love to last forever

But I'd rather you be mean than love and lie
I'd rather hear the truth and have to say goodbye
I'd rather take a blow at least then I would know
But baby don't you break my heart slow

I like the way you'd hold me
Every night for so long baby
And I like the way you'd say my name
In the middle of the night
While you were sleeping

I was believing in you
Was I mistaken, do you mean
Do you mean what you say
When you say our love could last forever

Well I'd rather you be mean than love and lie
I'd rather hear the truth and have to say goodbye
I'd rather take a blow at least then I would know
But baby don't you break my heart slow

You would run around and lead me on forever
While I wait at home still thinking we're together
I wanted our love to last forever

I was believing in you...

Well I'd rather you be mean than love and lie
I'd rather hear the truth and have to say goodbye
I'd rather take a blow at least then I would know
But baby don't you break my heart slow

Baby Don't You Break My Heart Slow
by Vonda Shepard


Sunday, January 10, 2010

Starry Starry Night

One cold holiday evening.

One group of seven HIV-positive guys.

A cozy, little, dimly lit room.

Some alcoholic beverages.

And phallic items meant to be mouthed.

It was the weekend after New Year’s. I’m guessing everyone wanted to salvage what was left of the Christmas break, before the reality of life and work and all came crashing back down on us. It was, after all, a week’s worth of vacation that was about to end in a jiffy.

Of course, we were also still probably reeling from the little “positive” northern exposure thingy we had after Christmas. I’ve never really been the type of person to have barkada time during the Christmas break. It’s usually just family gatherings for me. Or, back in the day, maybe an EB or two… or more. But this time, that one day after Christmas was spent with people of... uhm... common interests. And the inertia of that was obviously carrying on.

The positives. The like poles were to attract each other again. We had made plans again to get together after New Year. The plans were really sketchy, ranging from another mall invasion, to an amusement park, to a spa day, to a trip to Tagaytay or Laguna. It wasn’t easy organizing it with so many minds and personalities to please. Ah, what the hell, we finally settled on regressing to our childhoods. It was to be an evening in... Trese, help me say it... STAAAAARCITYYYYY!

Fine, I’m not a big fan of thrill rides, but what I am a big fan of is letting loose. So, go. StarCity it is. Wa poise kung wa poise. I was ready. I took the MRT going south with BFF, GreenFrog and BFF-in-law. Yes, I now have a BFF-in-law... a whole other story, a good one, that’s not mine to tell. There was actually supposed to be a fourth with us, a newbie, my first for the year supposedly, who begged off the last minute because he wasn’t feeling well. Darn.

So our group of three took the trip to Mandaluyong to meet with my O at Shang. Nope, O wasn’t with us that first get together, but was game to join us when I told him about the northern posse. And then there were four. Together we made our way to StarCity, where we were supposed to meet the others. We actually still weren’t sure who was really going or not at that point. Getting to the ticket booths... suddenly, StarCity didn’t look so starry.

It was ridiculous. There were so many people, and we were just at the ticket booths, mind you. I guess we should’ve expected it, but we were certainly overwhelmed. I guess none of us could deny that a bunch of immunocompromised guys sharing the same intimate breathing space with thousands of people just wasn’t a good idea. Not to mention the time we’d probably be wasting just lining up to get into and onto the rides inside. Our excitement just started to wane.

We waited for one of my “kids”, a guest from the south, who texted us that he was on his way. When he got there, our now group of five just retreated to the safety of a fastfood outlet nearby. We had dinner while trying to figure out where else we could go, if we decided against pushing through with the StarCity thing. While there, two more guys arrived. Another of our northern friends, and my J, who is now better known as GreenMan. And then there were seven.

As it was, just in that fastfood outlet, we were already having fun chatting it up, okraying everyone in sight, comparing ourselves to mascots, and watching boys. But we were determined not to let the evening go to waste. So it was decided. We finally figured out where we could spend the rest of the evening.

From the CCP Complex, we made our way to Malate, the homo capital of Manila. We drove up to our destination, at a time which was actually a bit early for anyone to be in a place like that. We were led up to the second floor, and all seven of us walked into room 24. Tiny, dimly lit, with a picture hanging on the wall of an over-sexed African-American man staring down at us. Shivers.

So what do you get when, on one cold holiday evening, you put a group of seven HIV-positive guys in a cozy, little, dimly lit room with some alcoholic beverages and phallic items meant to be brought up to one’s mouth? What else... VIDEOKE! You and your dirty, dirty mind... tsk, tsk, tsk. Wait, are you stuck on the over-sexed African-American man we were singing to? Here goes... Hehehe.

Tiger Woods
Singing, belting, shouting... even some dancing and all-out performing… we did it all! Wondering who was biritero for the night? I’d ask you back… Do you mean serious birit? Or epal birit? BFF-in-law, O and GreenMan were seriously hitting those amazing notes – no pun intended. BFF did a couple of songs as well. The two others were microphone shy. And me?

I got leafing through those song book pages, spotting one familiar song after another fun one, everything from Britney’s Oops! I Did It Again to Blakdyak’s Modelong Charing. Yes, everyone kidded me that since I sang the most songs, I should foot a bigger chunk of the bill. Bwahaha. Hold on. My disclaimer: I am NOT a singer.

Why did I end up singing my lungs out? Nope, it wasn’t that I was drunk. I’m not the type who will get pushed over by just a couple of bottles of beer. Neither was it the ARVs talking. Remember, almost all of us were already in ARV heaven by the better part of our little videoke night. So what happened?

Well, let’s just say I was karmically flashed the grim reminder that whoever punches in the number codes for a song may actually be expected to sing it. Ugh. Consider it a lesson learned. And with that, I shall never grab that remote the same way again. Maybe... Or maybe not...

So with that, our growing little group had our second night. Not exactly the StarCity experience we had planned, but starry nonetheless. What we do know is that we got our ultimate objective of a really carefree and fun night. Certainly, we proved that putting a bunch of HIV-positive guys together in a cozy and dim room doesn’t mean an automatic orgy... ahem, ahem... bato bato sa langit... Whatever making out that happened can be attributed to BFF and BFF-in-law, which is, of course, legal. Hehehe.

So there. Funny, if you notice, that we ended up as a group of seven yet again. May seven be our lucky number? Let’s see. Oh, this won’t be the last gimmick of our little group. Until the next great adventure.


Friday, January 01, 2010

New Year, New Gen

HappyNewYear!Remember the newbie boy who joined us last Saturday at our post-Christmas thing? He’d actually just been diagnosed in November at a private clinic, and had been referred to San Lazaro Hospital. But armed with some concerns which I won’t discuss in detail, he wanted to know his other options. So I volunteered to take him to RITM. We had agreed to go on December 28th, Monday, but he begged off at the last minute as he wasn’t feeling well. Bummer.

But I decided to go visit RITM all the same, since I needed to take some gifts from Positivism for the people there. Besides, my new BFF GreenFrog was planning to go as well. So I made the trip. There, I left my package with Ate, and waited for word from the BFF. While waiting, Ate introduced me to the only other pusit who was there. Surprisingly, upon hearing my name, he had this funny look on his face as if it meant something. Hmm. His name sounded familiar to me as well.

After some questions and answers, we figured out that I had been chatting and texting with him and his friend since he got diagnosed late this year. So he was sort of one of my “kids”. We’d finally met. Funny coincidence, don’t cha think? He also lives a stone’s throw away from where BFF and I do, so I thought he could come along on our next “northern exposure”.

From there, he tagged along with me to the lounge-slash-clinic to meet GreenFrog and another of our Saturday night friends. Together, the four of us had an early lunch at Festival Mall, from where we all headed back up north. I spent the afternoon resting, during which I got a text from my newbie boy requesting I accompany him to RITM the next day. Two days at the RITM in a week? Well, I had nothing else planned, so, okay.

The following day I ran a few errands early in the morning before heading to meet my newbie at the Ayala MRT station. Within an hour, we were at RITM. He wasn’t exactly decided on signing up with RITM just yet. He was just planning on conducting an ocular so he’d have some options to weigh. But based on how well he fit into our little Saturday group, several of us agreed he belonged at the RITM. Not that we’re exclusive to some type or something, but he’d instantly be armed with a headstart of six friends should he decide on the RITM to be his HIV hub.

Upon getting there and heading to the clinic, guess who I chanced upon there? It was U! It was my U! If you don’t remember U, he’s the guy who introduced me to the RITM back when I was clueless as to where to go. So it was U and I, and... let’s christen my newbie as a new alphabet friend... let’s call him W. So it was U, W and I. Amazing.

Do you realize why it was so amazing for me? In one room, I had U, the guy who brought me to the RITM, and W, the latest guy I brought to the RITM. So if W was my “kid”, this sort of makes U my “dad”. Hehe. Three generations of pusit-dom seems like such a rare and amazing thing. Hehehe. Ok sige, mababaw na ako kung mababaw.

Evident in the teasing that ensued between U and I in the presence of Ate and W, this is really all about paying it forward. U helped me start my HIV journey with RITM, and I ought to pay that generosity forward. I know I’ve paid it forward a lot already. Hell, I’m the butt of jokes for being one of the culprits behind the increasing pozzie population at the RITM. I mean, I’m not infecting people, but rather, I just seem to be easy to find, I guess, for those who are about to begin their HIV journeys. Or maybe it’s all fate? Whatever it is, I do what I can in my personal capacity to help.

So going back to W, to my surprise, within about an hour of our getting there, he had undergone a bit of counselling, signed up, surrendered what test results he had, and gotten blood samples taken for other preliminary tests. And with that, W was official. I hated how I came under fire when the counselling got to the part of disclosing to someone in the family. Hehe. Ate knows I haven’t told anyone just yet. And Ate made sure she made googly eyes at me when it came to that part. Again, no pressure, but it was advised. Argh.

From there, U, W and I headed on back north together, as I said goodbye to each of them as they got off at their respective MRT stations and I made it home as well. It’s been a long day. I needed to rest. Hell, it’s been a long year. My first full year living with HIV is now over. Can you believe it? I can.

If my condition at the exact stroke of New Year is any indication of how this year will be, well then I’m gonna be sleepy and woozy with ARVs the whole 2010. Healthy, happy, horny and hungover. That ain’t such a bad thing, right? Anyway, I look forward to more years to come.

But for now, this is it. I really haven’t been counting, but W will definitely my last “kid” for the year. Quota na ako. Quotang quota na... for 2009, at least. Year 2010? That may be a whole other story. Pay it forward will go forward. More new years, more new generations. So for now, let me wish a hell of a Healthy, Happy, Horny and Hungover New Year to all!