Skagen what?







This beauty stopped me in my tracks. (trust me, the photo captured only half the appeal) The orange dials set against the grainy black clockface, mysterious and pulsulating with desire. I couldnt resist and tried it on. Its wafer thin surface (4mm) felt like a band of film seductively wrapped across the wrist.

The price of temptation ? $229.

I steeled myself and walked away.

I'll be back.

***
Not having watched the first, Basic Instinct 2 sexual tension was gripping enough for me. The lead character (David Morissey, whoever he may be) grappling-in-the-dark morality and sexual fascination with auntie Sharon was interesting as long as she kept her clothes on. Dont think its as bad as the one tick New Paper gave it. I would give it a 2 1/2. Couldnt help feeling Clive Owen would have raised this thriller a notch. David Morissey doesn't quite have the same whiff of latent violence.

Monica Belluci's next.

Vindication Finally ( Football mumblings...)

Losing is always hard to take. I have more than a fiscal attachment to my wagers. It is more than a case of winning or losing wads of currency. I am staking not only my cash but the validity of my judgement and decision-making capability. And the emotion attached to each wager differs exponentially with the thought behind each decision, independent of any monetary consequence. A frivolous $5 bet on 7 goals that potentially might bring about $450 windfall would be less satisfying than a well considered $50 wager ( with returns of only $40 ) on Serbia holding Argentina to a not-more-than-1-goal win.

Non-punters might find that hard to fathom but that was exactly the situation with me. That was why Serbia 6-0 capitulation at the hands of the South Americans riled me more than most losses thus far. Its monetary consquence was $50, but the betrayal of and insult to my decision making cut deep. How can a team priding itself on a watertight defence and conceding only 1 goal in ten (?) qualifying games suddenly concede 6 in a single game?

At times when i betted despite skimpy knowledge of the underdogs and lost, I accepted it philosophically. I took the easy way out without thinking it through and lost. I deserve it for laziness. At other times, i took well considered long shots on underdogs and lost again, I laughed it off as a good dream, gentle ribbing from fellow punters notwithstanding. The key is belief and daring to dream within reasonable limits. Ivory Coast left me grinning despite 2 losses to their name.

For this World Cup, I felt it in my blood that England and Germany would meet in the Final. In a repeat of their 1966 triumph, England would emerge victorious. This gut feel was so strong it overrided my almost primal dislike of what i considered a grossly overrated English team, hyped beyond measure by a public feeding on nothing but the EPL week in and out. (hmm...i am the public feeding on nothing but the EPL week in week out...) Before news of Rooney timely recovery filter through, I placed a $200 bet at odds 9.

Despite a series of horrid performances (and in spite of their clueless Swedish manager) in the first qualifying round, they stumbled into the quarter finals to square off with the Scolari marshalled Portugal.

And they lost.

Meekly. With a little help from the ref. But ultimately through their own lack of belief. When one team misses 2 penalties in a shoot out, the other side usually would be a shoo-in for the rest. The Liverpool lads had other ideas. Time will tell what went through their mind as they stepped up to execute 2 parodies of a penalty. Thank you, you Scousers. Now you've done it again. "40 years of hurt, never stopped me dreaming." Play that Lightning Seed song again for your fans. (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fbqbhSs8Dpo )

The defeat, together with a run of bad results the previous night, left me stirred and shaken. The exasperation was profound. Without my iron-cast belief in a England berth in the Finals, I am unable to grasp the situation for the remaining matches. To give up signalled humilating resignation to the vicissitudes of Fate. Yet I risked losing more if i went on floundering without a clear vision.

And then it happened, the sequence of events set in motion before the England match climaxed in the final masterstroke that turned the tide.



The smile is back. I am back in the black.

Swimming against popular opinion never felt this good.

Germany 2006, Flutter in the red, crocked Owen and others

My record in this tournament is respectable. only 14 losses out of 40 matches so far.

But im in the red because i flouted the 2 cardinal rules......

1) Never Wager in Anger

2) Dont' chase the dragon

Brrrrrrrrrr....I cant believe myself...Its as stupid as stupid does.

***
Sven is a genius. In an utterly unimportant match, first he threw in yellow card carrying crouch for owen and then similarly at risk of missing out next match Gerrard for Rooney at the end.

Does it make sense to possibly lose 2 of your "key" (inverted because of the dubious quality of the much vaunted Crouch) for the next round in a meaningless match?

Compared that to Portugal's Scolari who is set to rest 5 players on a yellow card, having already qualified - "They wont play one minute even if mexico are winning 30-0 "

If England does win the cup, it would be despite Sven's meddling rather than any shrewd input from the feckless Swede.

***

-Freddy Shepard on Owen-

"When you lend somebody something and they return them injured and broken then you shouldn't have to pay for the repair. That what's happened at Newcastle and the level of compensation isn't high enough in my opinion. "

Sven Last Supper



The England captain is transformed into Jesus Christ, sat at the centre of the table, in front of the World Cup trophy, lost in thought.

Beckham is separated from his team mates which the designers say could show he is one of the few English players to play abroad. His concentration could also show how the England captain has realised the tournament, which starts in Germany this week, could be his last World Cup.

England coach Sven Goran-Eriksson is shown as Mary Magdalene.

The Da Vinci Code film, inspired by Dan Brown's novel, suggests that Jesus and Mary Magdalene had a child and the bloodline survives to this day.

The England coach is seated next to his successor Steve McClaren, who is rudely blowing a raspberry in the Swede's ear.

Liverpool midfielder Steven Gerrard appears to be having a row with Manchester United defender Gary Neville, possibly about who should be next to succeed Beckham as captain or just renewing traditional Liverpool - Manchester rivalries.

But on the left of the picture, Chelsea star John Terry appears to be tapping McClaren on the shoulder, possibly trying to persuade him that he should be made captain rather than Gerrard or Neville.

Meanwhile, striker Wayne Rooney is making a rude hand gesture to David Beckham, possibly a reference to the argument the duo had during the Northern Ireland game.

excerpts from http://www.dailymail.co.uk/pages/live/articles/sport/worldcup2006.html?in_article_id=389029&in_page_id=1892

***
Im lazy to write anything. haiz. I just got myself a second PS2. Been busy leading the likes of England, Korea, Argentina to World Cup victories.(Fifa 2006 Germany). Knocked out of First Round with Spain. Lately been struggling with Netherlands. 6 consecutive draws in Qualifiers. Thats all thats happening in my life now.

And Im still having those darn dreams, the latest involving me running away from the law and inadvertently hooked up with a terrorist to compound my troubles. Argh. My life's a movie. My dreams at least.

Of Camel toes and the sacred feminine

After last night heavy Japanese (revisionist) style history lesson, I decided to pay homage to the sacred feminine on my own terms and paid dearly for my flippancy. Caught the HK Naked Avengers and the Korean Bewitching Attraction. The former is a bland action flick with no nudity and little action and the latter a sex comedy with neither sex nor comedy. Both below to the category of films under "No Idea Why They Were Made."

Should have caught L'enfant.

In another tribute to the sacred feminine, i hereby dedicate the remainder of this post to the history of the camel toe. (yet another new thing i learnt last night)

***
As the story goes, a trader from the Sahara had managed his way across the Mediterranean, up through Spain and into France and England. Along his travels he noticed this strange custom of "pants wearing" by the melanin-deprived northerners. He kept thinking to himself that the Shar-pei or Bulging wrinkle looked more like the hoof of his pet Camel - Metmah.As he traveled, he would always say to people "Hey, that looks like the toe of my pet camel Metmah."

While not having pictures, he actually did carry the hoof of Metmah's father around with him -- a sort of keepsake if you will. The trader would show people his camel-toe -- albeit a real camel-toe -- and people would look with amazement and astonishment at the amazing similarity. The trader was invited to speak at dinners hosted by some of Europe's most prominent Charpe fashion houses. Soon, one of the fashion houses changed its name to Camel-toe and the others followed suit rather promptly.

As the name changed across Europe and other places, there also seemed to be a rage about how big one could make their camel-toe. People tried all kinds of different ways from "The Jack" which was essentially a frontal wedgie, to smacking your nuts with a brick or other large hard object (sometimes a good firm fist right before going out on the town did the trick) to cause the genitalia to swell before placing them gingerly inside the pants.Then quite recently, fashion houses came out with modern day underwear -- or tighty whities -- to help accentuate the toe and hold the boys in place for a cleaner, more camel-toe like effect.However, people soon looked down on the male toe - sometimes turning away from friends and family members who continued the tradition of the male toe.

And so today it is the female toe that people think of when the term camel-toe is brought up. But that was not always the case.

***
....thoughts on Da Vinci Code continued on http://onthesleeve.wordpress.com/ not for easily offended christians and catholics especially. Dont ask me for password and then kaopeh argue with me.

My dreams have been a major source of annoyance for a week now. They have no connections with anxieties in the real world. They are derived from nowhere and everywhere. it seems that everyone whom i have ever met or known are all thrown into mix and the end result a series of vignettes with no logical/emotional flow as far as i can perceive.

Take last night's for instance. Jimmy, Yann, me and some others ( simply cos we watched the FA Cup Finals together, they are entered into the equation) were sitting in a circle in some dark misty place.We were playing cards or just chatting. 2 soldiers bearing rifles walked by. Ive forgotten why they were disturbing us or what they said that made the mood extremely tense. I remembered feeling the tip of a bayonet pressing against my neck from behind, the soldier beckoning me to stand up, which i did. I stood and slowly turned and grabbed the bayonet (what sane person will grab the bayonet !). For a brief moment, I considered grabbing the whole rifle and smashing the butt into the face of the soldier. But the other soldier was hysterical by now, forcefully jerking his rifle at me and threatening to shoot if i dont let go. And I reluctantly did.

And the dream jumped (no fade-out or dissolves, am i dead ?) to the next scene where Diana (my other big boss at work whom i almost never talked to)was, in aprons and all, cooking up a storm in the kitchen. I remembered watching from the side, very much impressed.

CUT. NEXT! This time I received a cryptic sms from someone I had/might still be having a crush on.

The message read, "Im free".

2 words that send the mind reeling as the vast array of possibilities were methodically considered and eliminated.

Has the door finally opened? A crack of light, a sliver of hope? Free from fear of hurt? Free from unrealistic expectations? Free from convention? Or simply, im free, please ask me out?

I woke with a massive headache and aching joints.

Staying ahead, Moving Together

I made up my mind long ago. Nothing that Ive heard changed it.

I didn't have much choice. Cries for destruction without restoration is all the other side could muster.

If i wanted buffoons, I would vote in Mandai.

Check and Balances ? Save me the rheoteric. I prefer intelligent tyranny over babbling democracy any day.

Was asking a few people last night. When is defamation defamation ? If implications of corruption is defammatory, outright accusations of XXX being of lower moral standard than YYY is not ?

Where do we draw the line ?

Or its just a matter of who's sueing who ?

Staying ahead, moving together

Touching spin but there is always someone left behind. Not that it bothers me particularly.

# of defammatory word in this entry : 1 - Democracy