witch hunt

a day before the masters last week, the papers were proliferated with all things tiger woods. it was a bit too much, really. he didn't win and despite finishing second, which for any other masters-less golfer, a guarantee for a slot next year, wasn't really in contention. i miss all the drama in the final as i scheduled an extra workday on a monday.

there was also the london marathon last sunday, good for charities. i saw some photos of friends who didn't actually ran but donated their much-valued time and energy in lifting up generous causes. but were all the kissing and hobnobbing sincere? does singing spaghetti pababa or something to that effect, that therapeutic? the same person who shared to me the sex bomb song anecdote likewise thrashed a sports fan by a quick remark against a gooner. it may have been in passing but it never fails to sting me.

i know some people don't follow sports. but for those of us who do. we are not that bad. we just know our michael phelps from our brian jouberts to the pau gasols of this world. reading about bode miller lights up our day, mine specially and he's got party-boy presence. europe and america are in stark contrast with their sports priorities. asia is a whole new planet. england may have spawned the current world pool 9-ball champion darryl peach, however his huge victory in the philippines was not covered in the papers. but we swore over our batas and our djangos.

obviously, david beckham is worshipped by women more than men. but other than his worldly good looks he's actually an excellent right-winger. his corners are amongst the best in the universe. so what do women talk about aside from coveting the latest louis vuittons? american idol, the last night out, the latest gossip about a common enemy are never out of the list. the bitching has to stop.