nothwithstanding all its problems, london is still cool. of course, the chance of bumping into gwyneth paltrow in budgens is as rare as sitting next to ian mckellen in the tube. but despite that incongruity, pop culture fiends are always aware that even if they're not part of the legions at leicester square during hollywood film premieres, london's theatre scene is one of the best in the world and at odd times a hottie like josh hartnett or even the likes of the excellent judi dench brightens the marquee at the west end. but even without familiar names, the stage is definitely a medium to savor for the sinuous and obsequious observer. but as i navigate the queries from my far east upbringing, some air supply, barry manilow thoughts make me ponder, why are musical plays not directly proportional with authentic western testosterones?
it's not something to drool over, a kind of monolith about a dog. it opened in north america on christmas day with the conglomerates, all aboard with their academy awards ensembles, enabling their moviegoers to think. but i have to wait until march for marley. even singapore has a january opening. if that's how the FOX gods play it, the quiet fan patiently waits with bated breath.
despite the findings of this study , romantic comedies are mere plots and storylines for a movie. they're great escapes from the tedious train wrecks and disasters that befuddle our diurnal struggles. prosy lasses like us don't watch romcoms to ensnare a hugh grant in all of his popcorn delights. it's a form of entertainment, nothing more, nothing less, though it helps if the leading man is as cute as bradley cooper or as lovable as jack black.
more than indubitable keepsakes from the scenic views of prague,
these tiny wooden pieces are emblematic reminder of the not so
distant past of THFC.
except for jenas, all the others are out of the tottenham fold. the keeper robinson is now with blackburn.
malbranque was shifted to sunderland.
while the former strikers are no longer worth my sports trance.
loyalty may not always be greatly rewarded in the world of huge cash and big four opportunities. but at the end of the day, nothing beats being part of the tottenham wave.
that's the thing about high school, it evokes remarkable nostalgic musings. but i always thought i could have done better during that inspiring period, if i could have studied a bit harder, tackled the schoolwork with a bit more relentless passion, i would have not disappointed my parents. by the time graduation was unveiling in front of the hundred year old main building, i came up short of my folks' expectations. most of my friends did well though, i was peering over the honor roll in my mind recently and most of them were close intimates. one of my dearest friends in fact was way up there at the top academically and for twenty years has never hit the skids in bringing kudos to special occasions or hold my hand in the most tearful of moments.
a particular topic in a repartee during our recent reunion and a friendster shoutout made me speculate on one classmate's conjectures. they're not necessarily conjectures but marriage and kids are always touchy subjects. to quote carrie bradshaw's opening phrase in her voice over in the later seasons of SATC, i couldn't wait but wonder, are all these competitions really necessary? as school kids we battle it out for the highest grades and recognitions, and as adults, do we have to joust for the most enormous house and the best looking kids? success and happiness are abstract points. every individual is unique and so forth. but really, do we always have to lock horns for the biggest catch?
it's kind of nonsensical, perishable thought. the spirit of giving during the holidays never fail to hit me on the groin. this piece was not merely contemplated because of the cheers, the parties and tips to avoid in being a bad santa. but what if i'm presented with something i don't dig? it happened to me a few times, not only during special occasions but a maudlin friday. like when one of the nicest persons on earth brought me a dubai dvd from the lovely tropics. he was seldom generous with anything material but a dubai dvd is like anathema to my spirit. one of my brothers also lavished me with kindness. in one of his scheduled stops in the town center, he picked up a colin montgomerie bio for me. it was a charming present, but i'm not a monty fan. someday i will read that symbol of magnanimity. monty is a great golfer and deserves to be read.
this is not only limited to objects. an ambiance of hospitality is also a medium for socially entertaining options. there's food, magazines or the tv, all wonderful sidebars to regale guests. knocking on a friend's abode a few days ago for a gathering, i was offered the filipino channel. television is a choice, between a drama or a comedy, a variety show or a reality program and the likes. but i'm simply not a banana split person. bubble gang anytime, ogie and michael v. are super hilarious. banana split was an hour's waste of resources, not only are the gags not funny, but the girls definitely lack a few acting chops. nonetheless, there was a viewing of pinoy fear factor, part and parcel to the judy ann santos network.
i know i sound like and ungrateful old hag. but i also give away run-of-the mill, state of the art boring presents. a pair of socks? aagh. the complaints pile up from the offended parties. but bestowing gifts is only one aspect of pleasant intropection. for any occasion, rather than a mr and mrs smith of any kind, a simple greeting for me would definitely suffice.
my tita wan's currently staging a one-woman art exhibit at the planta centro hotel and residences at araneta corner roxas streets in bacolod city, philippines from december 8-13. a cancer survivor and a former nun, she lives in brunei with her young family and is in bacolod for the exhibit and a family reunion. do check out her site for updates (photos courtesy of my brother).
haunted by the errors of my ways, i'm reeling over a misspelling of the piece i wrote seven years ago. how hard was it to spell? pacquiao = p-a-c-q-u-i-a-o. i spelled it pacquaio. if it was a blog i could just edit it anytime, but it was a column and it's forever embedded in the pantheons of the web, no matter how obscure and insignificant it was.
the hubby and i were in the philippines when we first heard of the news of pacquiao-dela hoya in august. dela hoya used to be a fixture in my 6pm tv sked with his exercise show with shawnae jebbia on the lifestyle network almost ten years ago. the golden boy has been a star since his gold medal win in barcelona. despite losses from shane mosley, floyd mayweather jr, felix trinidad and bernard hopkins in recent years, he banked on his savy business sense to be the force behind golden boy promotions. dela hoya was a brand name, boxing's number one pay per view attraction. but i still thought, the 70-30 revenue share was unfair for pacquiao. i've seen both these guys box over the years. pacquiao initially haggled for 60-40, but eventually settled on a 70-30 or 65-35 split and reportedly earned a guaranteed $11 mil while dela hoya received more than half of that amount at the final tally.
a lot of synthesizing space was generated on both boxer's weight. the golden boy, who fought all the way up to middleweight, was bigger, with a 4-inches height advantage and a longer reach, pacquiao, who started his career as a light flyweight was simply diminutive, the underdog. what were his chances to beat somebody who was almost light heavyweight? that was not the question on my mind. that was conventional wisdom. even revered writers stood by their match prediction -- dela hoya for size or dela hoya because of the left hook.
but i always reckon the golden boy was too slow, as my youngest brother observed a decade ago, he was more "pa cute-cute." that doesn't need translation. pacquiao always had the will. when you come from dirt poor poverty in the third world, it's like being ganged up by the bullies of the rich nations. after his defeat from 3K battery of thailand, i was actually dismissive of his desire to win. but he rose from the ashes. i've never thought he would be in the league of the dela hoyas of boxing.
next up would be probably be hatton, a surefire sidetaking in my home front and i'm a bad loser. it's kind of weird though because i've never been to gen san but i've been to manchester. there's just this hope that pacquiao would shun all whispers of another shot in politics or producing movies and concentrate on the real job. but at this juncture, bring on the motorcade.
the scourge caused by the financial deflation is spreading into the world of super fast cars and sybaritic comforts, quite too obviously. although formula one may be a source of huge wealth amongst its drivers and hierarchy, it's still a sport and down the bottom of the food chain are the little workers. when business is down, sports, which accumulate shimmering fortune through backers and sponsors, ultimately suffer. so it was more or less heartbreaking to read about honda's withdrawal from formula one, cruelly affected by the economic downturn and forced to protect its core enterprise. jenson button, one of the stars of race of champions at wembley stadium on 14th, would be without a team. rubens barrichello, the one with the sensitive demeanor on the telly, would be set to leave the stage. i'm still confused why button is that popular despite his underchievement, but then glamour posh boy looks triumph over talent at anytime. whilst i will always remember barrichello during his ferrari stint, aiding michael schumacher, another star for race of champions, secure championship points. those were pretty good memories. but all good things come to an end. that isn't such a bad cliche.
this link is such good news, that i cheered in glee in the bathtub. jason bateman wasn't quite accurate in the interview, arrested development was a supper feast i wouldn't mind having every night. it was great comedy, full of unexpected, hyper hilarious twists and turns, a great milieu of creative juices. the flick report arrived on my radar after a reading on shortlist men's mag, i have to stress men for that matter as i relate more to periodicals on men's pursuits (minus the naked chicks) than a spread of angst and insecurities on women's glossies. i still need to get the copy of the third and last series though, i always get busted by the gloomy crunch.
nothwithstanding all its problems, london is still cool.
