JAN - MARCH 2003
VOL. IX NO. 1
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QUEZON CITY — They are rowdy and loud young men, the kind of barkada your mother would probably never approve of at first meeting. But the multitude in the jampacked studio of "Eat Bulaga," GMA-7's highly popular noontime show, does not seem to mind their antics at all, happily cheering them on while they try to enliven the crowd. Even the show's bevy of hosts seem only too willing to acknowledge their every antic as the program progresses, as if to emphasize their very presence.
But "Kurimaw" has ceased to refer to just that nebulous mass of testosterone up in the gallery. Now formalized into a group, its members have even thought up of several slumbookish "describe-your-male-crush" traits to fit the letters that make up their tag: Kind, Understanding, Responsible, Intelligent, Maginoo (gentlemanly), Awesome and Wholesome. It's actually a rather neat acronym for a bunch of teens and young adults who admit to having nothing better to do — without jobs, are out of school — and behave like pensionados, enjoying themselves like no other TV studio audience does.
The Kurimaw, however, are not the typical TV-studio viewers or celebrity fans who will jump at every autograph or photo opportunity with their idols. Sure, there's an appetite for artistas to be whetted in any ordinary buff, but members of the group have since put themselves to good use, too, by the very stars they adore. And they are no longer mere hangers-on, as they provide the top-rated "Eat Bulaga" with another hit pakulo, a plus point over other pretenders to the noontime variety show throne.
Given the copycat mentality generated by the heated wars between rival network giants ABS-CBN and GMA-7, the Kurimaw are fortunately original. Yet what really makes them stand out in the sea of anonymity that is the TV-studio audience is that they have become an extension of another patented "Eat Bulaga" novelty act — no less than the phenomenal Sex Bomb Girls, who are credited for the 20-percent drop in the ratings of the rival ABS-CBN noontime offering, "MTB."
Erstwhile "dancing wallpapers" to the show's various instant-money contests, the Sex Bomb Girls (named after that annoyingly popular Tom Jones smash ditty) are now bigger and brighter stars than anyone could have imagined. Just more than a year ago, they barely registered a bleep in audience's radar. Today the Sex Bomb Girls have two best-selling albums and a hit movie to their credit, plus product endorsements left and right.
That is why over at the country's longest-running noontime show, the durable wisecracking tandem in Vic Sotto and Joey de Leon and the supposedly major stars among their co-hosts now share the spotlight with Rochelle, the acknowledged leader of the group, Jopay, Ira, Monique, Che-Che, Mia, May, Grace, Jackie, Sandy, Sunshine, Weng, Izzy, Yvette, Jane, and the most recent addition, Jolan.
From four pioneers of the obscure group Dance Focus, the Sex Bomb Girls grew to 16 members ranging from 17 to 20 years old, all of whom delight viewers, young and old, male, female, and gay alike, with their flirty dance grooves and sexy (not lewd, some would even say baduy) tight outfits. Conservatives would probably have a different opinion.
In more ways than one, however, the Sex Bomb Girls seem to be a General Patronage version of that ultimate Pinoy male fantasy: the virgin slut, wholesome yet kaakit-akit (sexually attractive). Which brings us back to the Kurimaw, who are now practically Sex Bomb devotees.
Wherever the Sex Bomb Girls go, there the Kurimaw are. In the studio, the Kurimaw serve as the girls' chorus boys, engaging them in a chanting session, and complementing their playful tit-for-tat with 'Bosing' Vic (Sotto) during the "Laban o Bawi" portion. The Kurimaw join the Sex Bomb entourage, and act as security coordinators and bodyguards whenever the girls have shows, mall tours, provincial sorties, and even rehearsals. Which is tough since the Sex Bomb are booked almost every day.
"Araw-araw ang trabaho, 24 hours, parang duktor (The work's every day, 24 hours, just like a doctor's)," says Ira, without sounding a bit like she's complaining. "On a typical day, we wake up at nine, go to Broadway Centrum at about 11. After 'Eat Bulaga' at about two o'clock, we go straight to shows or rehearsals. We go home at around one or two in the morning."
Despite that grinding schedule, the Kurimaw remain a constant presence around the girls. Though it's neither a job nor an obligation, the boys make it a point to be there for Rochelle and the others no matter if there's just five or 10 of them around. What's even more remarkable is that the Kurimaw pay their own way, chipping in whatever available funds they have from allowances to cash prizes won as "Eat Bulaga" game contestants. Currently, there's the "Kurimaw in da Haws" talent portion where they strut their stuff and get a chance to earn their contribution to cover the group's expenses.
The boys claim they are all single and have only their parents to answer to. They say their families are fine with what they are doing, pointing out that at least, following the girls around leads them away from really bad vices like gambling or drugs.
Their "absurd" dedication to the Sex Bomb Girls is not without peril though. Last year, for instance, during "Eat Bulaga's" Fans' Day in San Juan, the Kurimaw were chased by local street thugs who probably wanted to test their mettle as Sex Bomb's protectors. Luckily no one among them got hurt.
Oftentimes the boys also get entangled in arguments with fans when the girls get mobbed. But the Kurimaw manage to remain unaffected by most provocations, and have proven to be diplomatic even with rude Sex Bomb followers.
If the Kurimaw endure all this, it's because the attraction is no longer typically that of pop icon and fan but one among friends. Confirms Monique: "They're like our friends, they're always there, but they don't make passes." Unlike some male fans, she hints, who take advantage of the closeness or the familiarity they allow.
Kurimaw member Erby, who ironically started out as a Kurimaw-hater, says in Tagalog, "We've become close to the Sex Bomb.We support them through and through, no strings attached. And we don't expect them to support us."
It's a plus in the rather strange relationship between the Kurimaw and the Sex Bomb that the girls, despite the trappings of our celebrity-obsessed culture, have remained level-headed. "They are so accessible, without the airs of your typical star," says film and TV director Uro dela Cruz, who directed the Sex Bomb Girls in their first movie last year.
The Kurimaw probably also see the girls as not that different from themselves — gender and gyrating abilities aside, of course. Like the Sex Bomb, the Kurimaw were plucked from obscurity, although the boys' group was admittedly more of an accidental creation.
Jann Jerick Coloma, Kurimaw's 17-year-old founding president, recalls that it was a rap singing contest called "Rap-ublic of the Philippines" that started it all. He recounts, "The hosts mentioned that all the Kurimaw in the audience should shout. So I thought of forming a group. We started with four, me and some guys I met while waiting in line. Then we just kept on adding and adding members."
That was last September. From that original four (just like the Sex Bomb), Kurimaw now has around 40 to 50 more members, with the inclusion of a second batch. And that's not counting those who have formed their own chapters in several parts of Metro Manila, Cavite, Antipolo, Taytay, Cainta, and Japan even.
It could well be that many among the Kurimaw are hopeful that their group would have the same Cinderella fate as that of the Sex Bomb Girls. In the meantime, says Erby, "It's enough for us that we see them — and that we ourselves are seen on TV." — Alecks P. Pabico
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