Thursday, September 30, 2004

the blogger known as Soloflite

A couple of blogger friends of mine Cat and Denise were on the air recently, in a local radio talk show. While they talked about blogging, bloggers, blogaholia, and shamelessly plugged their sites (and forgot about poor little old me), it got me thinking -

Why Exactly do I blog?

It's actually been on my mind for the longest time. I once wrote a post about why I blog , but squeezing out my brain cells out of its creative juices is just part of the reason. Now that Im thinking about it, I guess there are a lot of other hidden motives out there.

Some bloggers have certain ideas about why I blog worth mentioning. Shiksagoddess said im just damn Narcissistic. Sealdi told me I was Schizophrenic. Everyone else tells me im simply crazy.

Not true of course.
Its a complicated kind of crazy.

I once told Sarah that I blog not for money, not for fame but for the simple reason that I have been so repressed as a writer that I wanted an avenue to practice my real writing. For money and fame later on of course.

I shared to Joy that I write impulsively, hacking away at the keyboard on every little idea that comes into mind, slowly forming a coherent post in notepad long before my brain can keep up. It is a unknown urge, this thing which drives me to write. Sometimes it hits me when im buzzed, half asleep or even drunk, but always, always finds a way to get the post done. And thus, the brain has no choice but to follow what the body demands.

Another Joy (yes, there are a lot of joys in blogging) , was surprised at how defensive I was when she called my blog an online diary. Again, It's NOT A DIARY. It's a web LOG. Theres a difference.

So what is it then?

What is this blog if I dont post about my lovelife? Or my social life? Or even the nature of my work? Heck, I don't even let out my last name here.

Maybe the chat with Denise cleared it up: Blogging just lets me give in to that most basic of human needs, A need to reaffirm your existence. An irresistable urge to express yourself and to share your thoughts to the world. And more imporantly, without impunity.

Thus I seek to express myself in ways I cannot in my life as a lowly mortal.

In real life, I am but one of the billions of humans who walked in this planet, flawed, obscure and forever compared to the giants of Jose Rizal, Leonardo Da Vinci or Miyamoto Musashi. I could probably never be as rich as Bill Gates, or as famous as Tom Cruise. I could probably never be as smart as Einstein or as damn goodlooking as David Beckham. In real life, I am but one small person. I am but still insignificant.

But in my blog, it is different. In my blog, I happily bastardize Saddam Hussein to his face, make a mockery of Gloria Macapagal Arroyo or even change the idiocities of the present . In my blog, angels and demons watch over me, Love is but an answer away, and Death is but a dream. My blog is my own world and in this world, I am God.

But then again, even God craves attention.

If eyes are the windows to the soul, Blogs are surely at least peepholes. Thru my blog, I share the pictures that make me smile, and joke about the tiny little mishap that could have killed me long before. I talk about the misadventures or inanities in my past which looking back, have shaped me in what I have become. I cry in frustration at the haplessness of things that have been done or raise my fist to the promise of the future. Because for some unknown, inexplicable way, I need to bare my soul.

This is why I must blog.

Saturday, September 25, 2004

A Break from the Grind

A bloodcurdling scream rocked across the hallways.

"So it begins." The female figure glanced at her watch. Right on schedule. More screams and moans echoed continiously. Ever since The Guy In The Red Suit took over the management of the Inferno, it had really been hard work for all of her fellow demons.

But it was fun.

The Boss was definitely devious. Murphy smiled as she recalled the number of new programs and tortures over the last few years. Why, morale among the denizens of the Inferno was so high that even the demons of Sloth appeared to be working more hours.

She continued on and paused as she went between the fiery pillars symbolizing the entrance to the gargantuan Infernal Torture chamber. How long has it been since she last went here, she wondered? Here, billions of souls got their daily treatment from the sadistically perky demons of torture. Racks, Vises, chinese finger traps and contraptions of every possible kind were here to inflict maximum pain upon the torturees.

"Hey Murphy!" A demon holding a pair of morning stars called out to her. "If you're looking for The Boss, he's near the new area!"

"Be right there!" She shouted back. Damn, she missed doing the torturing. Before her current role as a demon agent, she used to be the most creative of the lot here. Then he came and assigned her to deal with the humans outside of hell.

Her latest missions have been mainly sowing confusion, misfortune and doubt. None of the usual death, pain and suffering. She was getting bored. She missed thinking up tortures... well, there is Him though...

Murphy glanced around. The "new area" was the Boss's experiment. Bored with the medieval ways used since time immemorial, he set up a series of modern torture devices such as electric showers, anal probes and TVs which played reruns of Teletubbies indefinitely.

There was also a new treadmill, Murphy noticed. On it, a poor sap wearing mismatched high heels was trying desperately to jog at full speed. Behind him, just a bit behind the treadmill, was a bespectacled middle-aged man holding a whip and happily flaying away at the tortured soul's back.

"Murphy!" The Guy in the Red Suit called out to her.

"Whos that?" asked Murphy as she approached her boss. Resplendent in Red, he seemed absolutely alive today. Nothing like an optimistic demon thinking up punishments for everyone who deserves em.

"Oh.. thats the ex-President of the Philippines, Ferdinand Marcos." answered The Boss.

"Hmmm..." Murphy furrowed her brow. "I cant quite get the punishment..."

"I had fun with this one. He gets to jog 10 miles in each of Imelda's shoes..." At this he waves his hand and a vision of thousands of high heels shimmers in front of Murphy.

"Hahaha! I'd bet he's really rueing each day he bought her stilettos right now." The Guy in the Red Suit waves his hand again and the image disappears.

Murphy held back a smirk. She seriously missed being part of infernal affairs. "...and the other guy? He doesnt look like he's part of hell. An honorary demon?"

"No, no. That's Ninoy Aquino."

"The Filipino Hero?! They guy who triggered the EDSA Revolution? What's he doing here?"

"Its something me and the Guy up there thought of actually. We're trying out a new exchange denizen program. Some of his blokes get a few months here to get their sweet revenge on their archnemesis, while some of our guys I send up there to watch at how much fun they're missing. At the end of the program, his folks go back happy, and mine go back more miserable."

"Ingenious..." Murphy whistled. Why hadn't she ever thought of that before?

"Precisely." The Guy In the Red Suit chuckled with glee. "Anyway, I summoned you here because he reminded me of something."

"Which is?"

"The Project"

Murphy repressed a shudder. "Oh... you mean... Him?" Of course he meant HIM. What else had been taking up her time the past few months?

"Yes. How is it going?"

"Er, fine I guess. Can't seem to kill him, so the next best thing is to make life miserable." It would have been more fun IF that angel of his didnt mess her plans every now and then.

"Well, we have a truce from up there." The Guy in the Red Suit looked at her in the eye. "Stay AWAY from him for a week. Give him his birthday off."

"Ah of course. Is it that time of the year already?" Murphy made a mental calculation. "And what do you suppose I do in the meantime? I got like 40% of my time freed up."

Good question, The Guy in the Red Suit thought. "How about some other bloggers? Go check his Blogyard or the ones who just dropped by his site. Yeah. have fun with them."

With that, Murphy smirked from ear to ear and set out on her new mission. She will definitely make sure she haves fun.


Wednesday, September 22, 2004

Memories of an Idiot II

So whats the difference between stupidity and genius?
Genius has its limits.

Join me once again I dare to look upon the world and weep at the triumph of human stupidity. This time I step aside and leave other people to play the part of the hapless imbecile...


Stupid Email:
I needed a partner of ours to send a very sensitive email to a customer of ours.
I asked her to send it very discreetly.
She did it to the letter.

The subject said "Discreet Email" and was sent to every person who should never have been copied.

Ugh. Nothing could have been more conspicuous.
*exact words have been changed, but you get the point


Quail Eggs:
I asked a maid of ours to help out with making instant soup (yeah, this by itself should give you an idea at the level of stupidity involved)
More specifically, I asked her to add Quail eggs for extra chunkiness.
I then left to do some other chores.

I came back 5 minutes later and saw her scrambling each and every quail egg...

insert *soloflite_slapping_his_head.jpg*


The Cute Lil Bonsai:

I thought that Bonsais were always ittybitty lil plants in miniature flowerpots.
That is, until I realized that Bonsai basically meant anything that can be described as a potted tree.

One day, I drove to an uncle's party with a gift from my mom: A beautiful bonsai.
I asked a couple of waiters for help and explained the situation.
The first guy I talked to said "Bonsai lang pala e! Kayang kaya ko yan!*" confidently and waved away his partner.
(*Bah! Bonsai?! I can do it myself. I dont need extra help)

I chose to keep my mouth shut and my smile well checked as I led him to the van.

He nearly fainted with shock when I opened the back and showed him the 5 foot tall, 200 pound BONSAI inside.


Drunk on Low Tide

While partying in a beach, one drunken friend started shouting "Night Swimming tayo!!!" and started taking off his shirt and going to the nearest balcony overlooking the sea.
He then dived.

Unfortunately it was 12 hours since high tide when he did, and that the water that should have greeted him was being pulled off to the other side of the earth.

He hit the rocky beach and was lucky to get off with a few major scratches, some minor lacerations, but try as we might, none of his pride was salvaged.


Fried Rice

A couple of friends of mine once arrived too late for an overnight party.
Too late that everyone was already asleep and everything was already cleaned up.

But since they were so hungry they decided to raid the fridge and see whatever was in there.

Guy 1: "Woooww!!! Fried rice!!!"
Guy 2: "Mmmm... u sure? Looks a bit weird"
Guy 1: Nibbles on the rice. "Seems good to me"
Guy 2: "Whatever you say dude."

They finished the rice and then slept.

That morning our caretaker was scratching his head and going "Who ate my poor Bruno's food?" be continued... thinkpad on low batt :)

Monday, September 20, 2004

On the lighter side of the Ateneo Loss...

Looks like king Larry's been wanting to do this for a long time...

...and theres something very very suspicious about that smile...


Sunday, September 19, 2004

Peaking too early

When UE exposed the Blue Eagle's weakness in their second game against each other this year, it triggered the end of the Ateneo Championship dream...
...and the start of their nightmares.

Because as soon as the winning streak ended, the rest of the league found themselves realizing two things about the Hail Mary team :
First: Ateneo won by an average of 2-3 points of victory. Not really a clear victory especially if the other team led the rest of the game.
Second: Therefore... It was mainly luck (yes, what other team has a Mascot like Larry Fonacier?) And luck was something that couldnt carry them through the Final Four

So, yes, they won their first seven games...

But then they didnt adjust to the loss of Larry Fonacier and even became overconfident in LA Tenorio's clutch baskets, JC Intal's third quarter blitz and even the endgame jitters that plagued all the other teams. In the end, the Blue Eagles just made the horrible mistake in complacence of thinking that the other teams in the league would just roll over and die.

The next half proved disastrous as the other teams ganged up on Ateneo... giving them a 3-6 (including the final four) scorecard, causing them to lose the #1 spot to FEU, then the #2 slot to DLSU. And now, losing the chance for another championship bid altogether.

On the other hand, another team was going through a nightmare at the start of UAAP season 67. La Salle had nothing going from them in the first half- a heart-wrenching loss to ateneo for its first game, a first-in-28-games loss to Adamson and a shakey 4-3 scorecard at the end of its first seven games.

Rumors of head coach Franz Pumaren resigning or getting fired abounded. TY tang, the main pointguard was severely and unfairly criticized for not stepping up as the next Mike Cortez (duh. get over it. Mike is gone.) JV Casio, touted as the next RenRen Ritualo (More Lasalista dreams) wasn't scoring as heavily as they initially thought and lastly, the absence of a legitimate Center punctuated the La Salle Nightmare.

Then the Archers adjusted.

TY Tang and the rest of the boys shaped up. The Big Men of La Salle started to make their presense felt in the next few games. Mac Cardona, their biggest source of firepower, dropped his bwakaw ways and started acting as a real leader on the court. Suddenly, though Mike Cortez and RenRen will never play for them again, The Archers became a team to beat once more.

Starting with a 28-point manhandling of the NU Bulldogs, La Salle never looked back. Franz Pumaren found his mojo and with the rest of the team started on what eventually became an amazing 8-game winning streak (and still winning.)

And whereas the ateneo winning streak was characterized by trailing behind their opponents in the first half, peaking at the third canto and finally finishing strong at the endgame, the DLSU style of victory was a powerful show of force in the first half and losing steam little by little in the final minutes for a double-digit win over their opponents.

However, as the wins piled up, the Archers slowly regained their championship poise. Guns that blazed in the first half kept firing until the final minutes of the game. The Archers made sure there was to be no more endgame collapse.

Thus was the story in last couple of Ateneo games.

When Mac Cardona, as his first two points of the game, slammed it in the face of a cheering Ateneo Crowd, his message was clear -- We do not fear Ateneo. We will smash your misplaced dreams of another championship stint. We will show you how to sustain an amazing winning streak. We will give you ONE BIG FIGHT.

And the rest was history. La Salle won its eighth straight game today and coerced Ateneo to give up its tickets to the UAAP championship with a 69-55 victory at the Big Dome. Gifted with an early set of defeats, the Archers are savoring the sweetest of victories now that they are peaking at the most perfect of times.

Animo La Salle!!!

Friday, September 17, 2004

FAQ. Why Cant I post?

Yes, I havent posted in a while.

Yes, I was busy.

Yes, it was work related.

Yes, the world turned around once more and poor Soloflite was not able to record the blog version of it.

Yes, Murphy came back with a vengeance these past few weeks and messed up each and every plan of mine.

Yes, I know -- "Murphy's Law happens to everyone"

Yes, there was another mishap involving airplanes, delayed flights and things being left in the airport of origin.

Yes, there was a freak elevator-shutting-down-while-you're-in-it incident again. Yes, I am claustrophobic.

Yes, there was another freak driving accident this week which totalled yet another part of my car and involving a drunken driver who smashed into the car in front of me before going my way.

Yes, the police were involved, but this time I came in peace.

Yes, of course I flashed them the universally accepted Vulcan peace sign before talking.

Yes, I admit there were lots of Divine interventions which saved me time and time again these past weeks.

Yes, I will send my guardian angel a letter of appreciation. Sometime.

Yes, I still follow the UAAP games and threw away a perfectly good chance to show my delightfully wicked glee and bash Ateneo for losing a potential twice-to-beat advantage and having them drop from number 1 to number 3 because of the Archers.

Yes, I didnt even post about their loss to FEU.

Yes, I have something in store for the Blue Eagle Fans on Sunday.

Yes, I didnt write about the sexy Maria Sharapova in her little dress and her losing the US Open to another muscle-clad amazon because she was upset about the Russia Hostage Crisis and how the Cassanova SoloFlite planned to console her.

Yes, that was supposed to be a very juicy post.

Yes, I was THAT busy to write such a juicy post.

So there. To the rest of the blogging world...

Yes, Im sorry.

Yes, I'll try to post sometime soon.

and Yes, I am aching to blog normally again.

Monday, September 13, 2004

Standing Up For My Left

"Lemme see your hand" A smug Gene Hackman once asked a smiling Leonardo di Caprio in The Quick and The Dead. "See. Those are farmer hands"

"These aint no farmer hands..." a slightly irritated Di Caprio replied.

Gene Hackman then pointed to his own and those of Russel Crowe's. "Now these. These are gunslingers hands."

He was right. For the rest of the movie, no matter how wretched or crappily-made the gun, Gene and Russel's specialized hands made sure that a split-second was all it took to get the gun out of the holster, shoot and blast the sucker in front of em.

More so with Russel Crowe's character, as that gunslinger's hand's instinctively did what a gunslingers hand's gotta do- shoot off bad guy after bad guy.

And when it came to the showdown between Gene's hands and Di Caprio's farmer hands... guess who won?

That movie made me realize how much one's hands could shape one's destiny. Great violinists, surgeons, artists and pianists all have equally great hands suited for their line of work. These great hands probably worked with a mind of their own, working at speeds, grace and coordination no conscious brain could probably match.

Indeed, hands like these could shape the destinies of those gifted with them.

Which brings me to my hands.

My hands have a mind of their own too. They just dont coordinate with each other.
They're so bad, they dont even get along with their own fingers! It's like a weird interknuckle rivalry or something.

Anyways, whereas most hands are graceful and artistic, mine are shakey and clumsy. This totally frustrated my artistic talent-- making it impossible for me to draw the perfect circle or even make smooth curves using my hands.

It made me give up a potential career as a surgeon, my conscience getting the better of me as i passed up med school to save the world from lacerated internal organs.

And worst of all, because of these hands, which could produce nothing but the worst of chickenscratches (another reason why i thought the medical life was for me) i almost never realized how fun it was to write. Luckily, PC's became popular and upped the ante in my personal vendetta against the signpen.

These are kender hands-- Irrepressible, irresponsible and partly kleptomaniac. Time and time again, i find my hands keep creeping up in places not meant to be crept. Too often i've found things in my pockets which i didnt even remember seeing before or squashing some poor creature that tried to get in its way... These are seriously demented hands.

In any case, I learned to live with these evil hands. Furthermore, years of watching them at it made me realize that the main reason for every bad thing that happens is because the left hand is jealous of the right.

You heard me right. The right always has the right to do what he wants and this makes the left hand feel left out.

Think about it: What hand do you write (using a pen) with? What hand do you pull the trigger with? What hand do you throw with?

On the other hand, what do you do with the left hand? It is used to ward off fearsome attackers that threaten you bodily harm. It is the sacrifice to the rabid dog that wants to bite off the artist's hand. It is the expendible one, and is awarded no honors, no dignity.

After years of putting up with this, the left hand tends to have an inferiority complex. He'll start to think little of his own strengths and capabilities and forgets all about his lefty-handed dreams. Soon, it will lose all hope and just resign itself to its fate as the Right Hand's right hand hand.

Well, normally.

In my case, my Left hand declared an all out war against the Right.

What the right hand can do, it can do just as well. So for the longest time, I can text with my left as fast as i can with my right. And i can write as badly with my left, as I can with my right.

You gotta hand it to it. My left hand is sure as hell standing up for its rights.

Last saturday, while playing badminton, the left hand was again dangling uselessly at my side... And soon, bored and consumed with wrathful envy, The LEft DEMANDED that it be allowed to use a racket as well (see the stuff i have to put up with?). Me, fearing to risk an internal civil war, conceded to the Left's request.

So there I was.. playing badminton with two rackets.

Which was fun. It allowed me greater reach, a second chance should my first whack miss and even allowed the liberty of faking shots to confuse the enemy. The only thing that i havent quite figured out yet is how to serve the damn shuttlecock.

It's not a totally bad idea though.

Japan's greatest swordsman, Miyamoto Musashi put in a nice way in The Way of the Five Rings. A rough translation of the Way of Wind (correct me if im wrong) of his reasons for always using two swords to fight:

1. There is no extra gain in using a katana with two hands
2. If you're using just one hand with the katana, your other hand is useless
3. So use it.
4. Train your other hand to use another katana.

And did this work? Well, i think so. Musashi was never bested in single combat. But was he good in badminton? We will never know.

Speaking of useless left hands...

In most of the popular sports im aware of, the LEFT hand is used as a support to the right:
Basketball, wrestling, football, volleyball, baseball...etc

In these games, if you dont use the left hand, you are dead.

It is only in sissy versions of REAL games that the left hand is left uselessly hanging on the side. What games, you may ask?

Badminton and pingpong (as against Tennis), Fencing (as against Kendo), Duckpin bowling (as against 10 Pin bowling) and of course, the ultimate one handed game of all... Chess.

Yes. These games are all popularized by the Mafia of the Right Hand in their evil quest to totally dominate the Left. Pretty soon, there will be games like one-handed basketball, gaming controllers that require only one hand for control or maybe soccer will allow the use of one hand while playing.

But as long as Left hands like mine are here to foil the Right's evil plans, this world shall be safe for all Handkind.

Monday, September 06, 2004

Modern Day Barbarians

Was reading Sarah's excellent commentary on the US and the violence in its midst...
Gave me the idea for this next commentary of mine...

It's fun studying the rise and fall of the greatest civilizations of all time. Rome wasnt built in a single day, and nor were any of the other great dynasties. All of the great civilizations had made such a lasting legacy that we celebrate them in our art, literature and film.

The way they are created, was forever immortalized by Sid Meier in his great game: Civilization. Basically, the Romans, Greeks, Chinese and other early nations built their empires one small city at a time, taming the land, mastering their immediate terrain, gradually shaping their society, destroying barbaric hordes, conquering existing civilizations, founding forging alliances after alliances, founding new colonies and finally reaching the pinnacle of their society's art and technologies.

What Civilization does not show however, is how the greatest of the civilizations actually fell. It's quite simple really. After the highest point of the civilization's history, the second or third generation of rulers would become lax, incompetent and overall decadent. These generations were those who never took part in the building of the empire, but just stood on the shoulders of their ancestral giants, relishing in the richness and comfort, but forgetting the sacrifices of the ones before them.

For the Romans, these were the senators who fell into obesity and went from orgy to orgy. For the Greeks, it became pedophilia and homosexuality that finally screwed them. The great Chinese dynasties, over-abused their riches and finally fell to barbarians, Europeans, the smaller Japan and later to a new kind of threat called Communism. For all these, the values of the old were forgotten, the threats of the future ignored. In all of these great civilizations, the leaders quarrelled amongst themselves over the most trivial of things, and in the end, the great legacies of their forefathers were lost in a invasion of barbarians or that of a rival civilization's.

I realized that these two things: The founding of a civilization and the laxness which caused its fall, are pretty much standard fare for every significant history. The old adage "He who does not remember history is destined to repeat it." can't be ever truer.

What i'm thinking about is that with the advent of the global economy, the borderless world made possible by modern transportation and the internet, as well as the inevitable mixing of our cultures, this world of ours is just one big civilization.

And how long has it been since this great civilization been founded? Was the borderless world ushered in by the end of the World Wars? Or was it heralded by the advent of the Internet? Was it the introduction of Democracy to every major nation in the world? Or perhaps the death of Communism as an ideal?

...and have we reached the zenith of this age? Are we on the way down?

In any case, I'm seeing the same kinds of problems the ancients once had. Morality is probably at a record low. Almost all of the major rich nations have long since had their third generation from their greatest moments. And i see no more Gandhis, no more Lincolns or other Great Men that seek to inspire today's youth amongst us.

Will history then repeat itself?

Who then will be our modern day barbarians? Will it be the North Koreans, the Al Qaeda or maybe even the Iranians? Or will there be a breakdown in this final civilization of man? A final collapse, or the end of the world as the say?

Only time will tell.

But one thing is for certain: As long as we remember the sacrifices of heroes past, base our lives living out the values they instilled and keep from taking everything we have for granted, this modern-world civilization of ours will still stand.

Sunday, September 05, 2004

A living Zombie

Sleep is overrated.

Here i am again. 2am and wide awake.

I'm an insomniac. And worse, I'm a light sleeper.
It's the biggest double whammy you could ever have.

First, I have a helluva time sleeping at night, and believe me, i tried everything. Looks like only drugs or alcohol can force me to sleep. And since I really DO want to live beyond 30, I cant have those on a regular basis (which raises the question... will i really live beyond 30 if i sleep a mere 2-3 hours each day?)

And Second, once I DO fall asleep, I tend to wake up often. This brings my average daily sleep to 2-4 hours in batches of 30 minutes to 3 hours at a time. Not exactly the healthiest of options...

I hate this wretched body. Why do we need to sleep anyway? Its not like you get more misstakes made when you dont get your rest, right?

Sensual Nirvana

I never doubted that the loss of one of the five senses would heighten the other four. Because when you're lying down, unable to sleep, unable to move, see, taste or smell anything different, guess which one of the senses take over?

On horribly, horribly bad cases of insomnia, my sense of hearing becomes so acute to a point that im even aware of the conversations of the five or six people walking around on the street, the occassional tricycle vrooming past hitting a pothole, and notice even the subtle differences between car and van engines as they go by. Add to that, the light whirring of the airconditioner that isnt even noticable during the daytime suddenly sounds like a freakin chainsaw... (its either that or my imagination just goes into overdrive)

Kinda reminds me of The Vampire Lestat when he buried himself under the earth to get away from it all (evil, murdering, bloodsucking, undead creatures need vacations too you know.) Apparently, this guy's the ultimate insomniac.

Bereft of all senses except hearing, he became so good at it that, he could hear conversations miles away. He learned about the changes the 20th century brought in: the lingo, the music and the news around around the world. Finally, he emerged out of his dreamy state after decades of just lying around and trying to get some sleep.

And what do pasty-faced, sunlight hating undead creatures do when they want to blend in? He became a rockstar.

Sigh. I doubt I'd make it great in music though. Even the stupid videoke machines dont work with me. I'd probably be a William Hung minus the Ricky Martin-wannabe act.

The Diet Coke of Sleeping

Because I probably have achieved sensual nirvana, once i do fall asleep, the slightest change in my environment: an aircon problem, a light turned on, or some idiot getting beaten up by a roving gang across the street is enough to wake me up. Ugh.

When I become uber rich and powerful, I'll get one of those coffinlike things that Matt Murdock slept in in Daredevil. That'll get me the sleep I need.

In the meantime, here i am, a, the newest member of the undead family: A wretched blogger, unawake, unasleep. Continously writing without restriction, perpetually mocking the basic rules of good grammar, violently squeezing out idea after inane idea, and trying desperately to reduce brain activity to Zoolandish levels in the hopes of finally shutting down the insomnia switch.

Wish me luck.

Wednesday, September 01, 2004

Hormones a'ragin

Just got back from the gym.

Had the extreme luck of chancing upon the US OPEN's first round while I was at the threadmill.
The women's division ;)

I love watching tennis.

Okay, watching Maria Sharapova

Okay, Okay!... ogling Maria Sharapova in her little dress, which accentuated her sexy booty, shapely legs and perky nubile... Rrrrrrr...

(Wipes drool from mouth. Mops floor.)

She was up against...
The one that looked like John Travolta in Grease...
Except with more testosterone.

Anyway, the She-Hulk was creaming Maria when i switched on the channel. Maria, obviously inspired by my unforeseen, but extremely welcome moral support suddenly went wet and wild, sending volley after volley against her horribly unsexy opponent.

Damn she's hot. Especially when the camera just zooms in on her as she's all sweaty and in that "This is the damn sexiest way i know of to anticipate a serve" pose. From the front or from behind... its so nice from any angle.

Anyway, she won. And we will see more of her and her little dress in the next round. Yeah baby!!!

(Soloflite scratches out Ladies Tennis Commentator from list of future jobs)

In other news--- DLSU and UE won their matches today. This means that Adamson and UST are basically out of the running for the UAAP final four.

With ateneo with 9 wins and DLSU and FEU with 8 wins respectively, UE (7-5) and UP (5-6) will be slugging it out for 4th place.

UP has been playing VERY well lately and I believe the Maroons now have a Fighting chance to get the last seat in the final four. They've swept their past FIVE games, taking even the great FEU bull by the horns. Their next match is against Ateneo tomorrow and I sincerely hope their winning streak continues...

Hopefully, we will hear more of their cheers besides "UP Spelling". Go UP!!!!

Luv Ko To

"Proof? You want proof? See for yourself!"

Aga winced as the burly ex-heavyweight champion pulled off his blindfold.

Despite his vehement denial, the mafia showed no mercy when they discovered his treachery.

"Familiar?! This is against all we stand for!!"

A bloody eye opens...

There it was…

The BigMac, Half-eaten.

No wonder Jollibee was pissed.


That was my 55-word short story.
Quickies can be satisfying sometimes ;)