Brother From Another Planet >Robert Downey Jr delivers the most controversial - and damn funny- performance of the summer in 'Tropic Thunder'

There are performances that take balls. There are performances that take the kind of stones that makes Hillary Clinton’s vote-counting look like amateur hour. And then there’s the role of Kirk Lazarus in Tropic Thunder.

On its face, the idea is ghastly. Robert Downey Jr. stars as an Oscar winner who plays as African-American soldier in a war epic. And if you’re thinking there’s no way anyone would be dumb enough to play blackface for laughs in 2008, well, that’s exactly what he does. The whole thing is a high-wire act over a pile of chain saws, but Downey blows co-stars Jack Black and Ben Stiller clear off the screen with his unblinking commitment to the gag. As Lazarus becomes more and more convinced he actually is black – to the alarm of his colleagues – the unhinged joke becomes clear. It’s about race. It’s about spoofing puffed-up Hollywood vanity. But more than anything else, it’s about that essential element of all great comedy: danger. Somewhere, Lenny Bruce is smiling.

-Dan Fierman, GQ august 2008-

What I've Learned: Jenna Jameson

Actress, 34, Los Angeles

C’mon downstairs. I just got a new couch. We can break it in.

The first thing that comes out of my mouth is always right.

If I have daughters, I wouldn’t want them to go into pornography. That’s not really a conflict with who I am. You don’t ever want your children to struggle. You want everything to come to them beautifully and perfectly. My industry is not cut out for harmony. I don’t want my little girl to have to worry about whether or not those whispers are about her.

Don’t let your son read my book until he’s sixteen.

Duxiana. It has this technology that doesn’t allow you to bounce all over the place, yet it’s still really supersoft.

Getting a tattoo should hurt. It’s a rite of passage.

I’ll be out having a good time and stick my gum on the side of my cup -- I know, it’s a horrible habit -- and people will steal the cup. I’ve had girls come up in crowds and rip out my hair. Not because they’re being mean. Because they want a piece of me. It’s really weird.

Women’s vaginas go back to their normal size after sex. They don’t stretch out. Whatever you’re born with you’re kind of stuck with. And once you have a baby, you can always have extra stitches put in, right?

I did my bathroom like that on purpose. The photo of Jean Harlow. The one of me spread-eagle across from the image of the Virgin of Guadalupe. I think what you see is such a beautiful contradiction. That room is me in a nutshell.

I’m a paradox wrapped inside a paradox.

Yeah, I see those “Increase your size” e-mails. So sad. To have someone actually put some implant into your penis -- that’s crazy! If I were a man, for me to even think of doing that, it would have to be inverted.

I’m a powerful woman. I think that’s intimidating to a man, on every level. That’s why I always go out of my way to be ultranice and ultrasweet and coy, because it makes people feel comfortable, and I want people to feel comfortable around me before I put them in a headlock.

I would never cheat on the person I’m with.

I think more people out there need to have more sex.

There are certain things that I just didn’t feel comfortable with on film, and anal sex was one of them. It’s just too intimate. To this day, I equate doing it with only someone that I 100 percent trust. It’s very private for me.

Dancing at a strip club is a job. Men don’t want to feel like they’re giving us money to do what we’re doing. They want to feel like we’re doing it on our own. Guys have to realize that the money they’re giving a stripper is paying rent and making car payments.

I hate getting political and stuff, but when really right-wing people get into office, they worry about things that should be the least of our worries. Whether or not I’m getting it doggy style from a black man should not be their concern. They should be worrying about health care, about our homeless, about the war. How about bringing the troops home? Call me crazy.

George Bush has read my book. Don’t act like he hasn’t.

What the news is feeding us is so different from what is happening.

When I was first approached about debating at Oxford, I was like, How am I going to do this? I barely got a diploma. How do I debate against professors? But my husband at the time said, “Do you think those professors know more about pornography than you?” So I wrote a ten-minute speech. But I never looked down at it once. The passion just poured out of me. I could see how many people in the audience were against me in the beginning. But as I got into my story and talked about all the things I’ve learned along the way, I could see the tide turning. I could see the women in the audience understanding that I’m just a normal girl, and slowly they started to relate to me. After a debate at Oxford, the audience can walk out of one of two doors -- one for pro, another for con. I stood there watching nearly everybody go through the pro door. It was beautiful. There are certain moments in my life that I remember kind of stepping back and thinking to myself, Please print this on your brain, because this is something that you want to be able to tell your children. That was one of those moments. I win, motherfucker. I win.

When you’re fearful, you stumble.

My definition of courage is never letting anyone define you.

I don’t know what happens next. At the end, I just want to feel completion. What’s completion? I don’t know.

I remember finishing my book and thinking, Okay, now I’m going to settle down, have kids. I’m going to ride off quietly into the sunset. Now look. It seems like I will forever be that crazy girl who never rides off into the sunset. I’m always going to be the one riding the fucking bronco. In assless chaps.

Jameson was crowned porn's best new starlet in 1996 and inducted into the industry's hall of fame in 2006. She left acting behind to write her memoirs and launch a clothing line: House of Jameson.

-by Cal Fussman, Esquire August 2008-
-photo by Shawn Mortensen-

The Grey Tie Infatuation

Retail therapy is evil. Therapy itself was invented by the devil so the wicked could justify their actions. At least, that’s what Ray Wise told me.

Retail therapy only gives you a temporary sense of pleasure, until you realize how much you’ve actually spent. Or worse, when you pay by plastic, because you’ve spent money you don’t have. Which would explain why the term ‘credit card debt’ seem so common these days.

Usually this problem rarely concerns me because, usually, it belongs to the feminine world. Men aren’t familiar with the term retail therapy or any problems associated with it. In fact, most men aren’t familiar with the word ‘retail’ at all.

However, on few rare occasions, it decides to infect one of the male species and it becomes quite the worry. Especially when it decided upon me as its latest victim last Monday.

All I wanted to do was to get a fresh Himalaya facial wash to replace for the one I had run out and be done with it. And it is usually a hassle free errand even if it is at Suria. I’ve been there a million times. What could possibly go wrong?

And I was telling myself exactly that while I was standing in the middle of Parkson, at the men’s tie section. In front of me resting snakily on the display table was a gorgeous D&G grey silk tie.

‘I could use one of those’ I said to myself.

But that would be impulsive buying. And you know how I am not into that. At least, for the time being. So, I decided to check out other places. Besides, it’ll only take five minutes to the Himalaya store. And so it began.

What started out as a simple browsing exercise turned into an obsession to find that elusive grey tie.

Why a grey tie? I’ll tell you why.

While a slim black tie will always be on that go-to basics on hand list, this fall a simple grey tie belongs right beside it. One that’s matte silk or wool – there’s nothing essential about a shiny grey tie – in a medium-to-dark shade. It’ll add balance to solid-colour shirts and go well with a crisp white shirt, too.

Tie by Steven Alan

And, since in all of Parkson the D&G tie is the only one to come close to the shade I’m looking for, I began to suspect that the lesser brands were so obsessed with patterns to even considering offering their customers a plain grey. With that in mind, I just couldn’t help myself but to designer-store hopping.

But, before we get there, let me tell you something about designer stores. The ones in Malaysia, that is. They can be so arrogant at times. If I’m led to believe, designer stores in Europe (particularly in Zurich, and some even say Frankfurt) really pamper you as customers. It doesn’t matter if you don’t buy anything in the end. Upon entrance you are offered a seat AND a drink. And you’re there just to look at cuff links.

Over here, well, I’m sorry if I don’t look Middle Eastern enough but the people at Dunhill did not even acknowledge my existence when I walked in. I could have bought something, you know. I have the financial means, you bunch of plonks. But I wouldn’t now for that insulting lack of attention. At least the people at Aigner greeted me, before immediately carry on with their own business (which is sucking up to their Middle Eastern customers). And, sadly, Hugo Boss did not fare quite well either. Greeting, yes, but then the stalker move by the attending store staff which as if to suggest I was looking to steal something rather than pay for it. I say ‘sadly’ because I have tremendous respect for the Hugo Boss line. I guess, that as far it’ll go for the time being.

The better ones were Ferré, even though they don’t offer men’s ties, which they politely pointed out. And, of course, Giorgio Armani. I had to decline ‘assistance’ from them twice. Mainly because they didn’t have any plain grey ties. I left without being offered any champagne but it was flattering nonetheless.

However, despite my visits to numerous designer stores, which includes Zara and Ralph Lauren, none had the right one. All my hope laid rest on one more stop: Isetan’s men’s section.

And, although the tie section once again disappointed, I finally rested my eyes upon a fine piece at Raoul’s corner. It is grey, it is plain, it is silk, it is perfect. I went to pay for it almost immediately. And, at 50% discount, it was quite a bargain.

I was making my way home a delighted man, having coveted a stylish looking tie. The euphoria was insurmountable. That is, when I finally arrived home and took out the latest addition to my wardrobe again to have a closer look. All by myself in my room, without the glitz of a shopping mall, I realize my grey tie look ominously like a silver tie. And how I begin to hate myself for it. It’ll be one of those ‘why did I bought this?’ moments.

It does say ‘grey’ on the tag but it could easily pass as silver. Which means it is not the medium to dark shade that I was supposed to look for. Which means, my efforts were ruined. Well, maybe ‘ruined’ is a bit strong. I mean, it is a Raoul tie. Couldn’t be that bad, could it?. It just means I need to find a darker shade grey tie next time. Now, how hard could that be?

And while at it, I could probably scout for my other three ties. Because, truth is, there’s no such thing as a tie for every occasion. Sorry, there’s just isn’t. The good news, however, is that a man can survive on three ties alone. A dark stripe, a bright solid, and a subtle pattern like the ones shown here are versatile and classic, and between them you’re ready for whatever life throws your way.

And a grey one (among others e.g. Donald Trump's gold) would compliment the three.

From left: Ties by Brooks Brothers, Hickey Freeman, DKNY

Oh, just so you know, I did manage to get myself a new Himalaya facial wash in the end. I told you retail therapy is evil. See what I mean?

Ref:
Bring Out The Gray, Will Welch, GQ August 2008
Esquire's $5000 Wardrobe

What Everyone Will Be Talking About: Movies

This is hard to believe but Penélope Cruz has become one hell of an actress. Even in English. See her (naked!) alongside Ben Kingsley in Elegy, a surprise bit of Oscar bait that mines male commitment phobia. Then watch her (kissing Scarlett Johansson!) in Woody Allen's Vicky Cristina Barcelona, which thankfully, is more Match Point than Scoop.

-Mickey Rapkin and Kevin Sintumuang, GQ August 2008-

"It's really the least sexy thing you can ever imagine!"

-Scarlett Johansson on that kiss-

You're Not Hot

Now, here’s a hypothetical question.

Let’s say, you want to piss off someone, who would it rather be? A US Senator or a 20-something blonde socialite? And you may answer, ‘Why would I want to piss off a 20-something blonde socialite?’ Exactly. But that's what John McCain did.

You should notice flashes of Brit and Paris before Obama’s face came up and it is the McCain camp’s strategy to liken Barrack as a celebrity akin to those two. ‘It’s beyond dispute that (Obama) has become the biggest celebrity in the world. But do the American people really want to elect the biggest celebrity in the world?’ asked Steve Schmidt, McCain campaign strategist.

And, (surprise, surprise) someone did not take this lightly. But you know what? It wasn’t Barrack.

See more funny videos at Funny or Die

(Here's a direct link if the video won't just fuckin' appear)

I think we all can learn a lesson here. To mess with a US presidency candidate is one thing, but don’t you even dare crossing paths with a billionaire heiress. Especially the one with a pet Chihuahua.

But I'm Still Not Calling You JT

Quality time with my mother usually involves spending time together in the living room watching the TV, apart from the occasional trips to the movie theatres. And she’s the one holding the remote during these important family moments. Which means, if there’s no Jennifer Lopez movies on either HBO, Cinemax or Star Movies (which would offer me some form of entertainment), she’d flicked on to the Asian Food Channel. And, as of luck would have had it that day, Sugar was not on and neither was Michael Smith. So, I had no choice but to endure the Hallmark channel as she pressed the numbers 702.

But, in truth, it is not that bad, really. I mean, that Doc Martin can be quite amusing at times. And, wait a minute, actually, it can really be that bad. But Hallmark just had to pull out its trump card on me that day. They just had to do their worst.

Oprah was on.

And my mother was more than happy to settle on that. Oh the things a son must do for sacrifice.

However, surprisingly (and I really do hope this does not turn out to be a trend), I rather enjoyed this particular show, as I had the chance to see this:

This performance was so good it gave me goose bumps. I mean, I did not even notice Scarlett Johansson wasn’t even there.

I honestly cannot believe that I am writing about Justin Timberlake again. I used to have so much beef about him. For some reason I could not shake off his former N’Sync image. To me, he’s still that ginger haired teeny bopper doing his Bye Bye Bye routine. And, somehow, managed to bed Britney, then Cameron and now Jessica. Not to mention sharing the pool with Scarlett. I was so envious of him that I fucking hate him! And now, he came up with this. For which I cannot lavish enough praise upon. Suddenly, I no longer see the boy band. Suddenly, I see Justin Timberlake as one seriously cool guy.

And now, I no longer hate him for snogging all those women. Well, bravo. I mean, the closest I ever got (and the rest of the male population) to seeing Britney’s private parts is through those famed pictures. Although I may have to thank Paris for that. She might have convinced Brit with that whole ‘breeze’ thing. Nice going, Paris. Seriously. But back to Justin.

And, may I add, the only person I know who can successfully pull off that half-beard look. I tried to imitate but I only managed once, by accident, when I forgot to shave one day. And it only lasted for an evening. The next morning, I began to look like a homeless person.

And one more thing about Justin is how incredibly funny the guy really is. I know The Love Guru has been receiving awful reviews but the moment I saw the trailer, I can’t get enough of his Quebec Pizza joke. Y’know? Like in the porno? And that was just that beginning. He soon followed it up by hosting the ESPY Awards and he suddenly became a world of his own. I know chances are he was not involved in any of the writing. Okay, possibly a bit. His last name is not DeGeneres. But, then again, I could not recall any pop stars who can pull off a comedic performance so well as such as he did. Could you?

He’s funny, he was, is and probably will always be dating Hollywood’s best looking babes and all the while selling millions of records. And don’t forget that half-beard.

It seems, at long last, I have to admit that Justin Timberlake has earned a respectable notch in my book. You are the man, Justin. But I still think Bringing Sexy Back is a stupid song.

A Change Of Style: Malaysia ala Arsenal

When Man United finally released a club statement saying they would not be coming to Malaysia for the friendly match following the Asian Cup furore between FAM and AFC, sometime late July last year, football fans throughout the country cried foul and branded the dispute ‘stupid’ as in the end, it was football who were the ultimate losers.

Few, if any, would have noticed, but it could have turned out to be a blessing in disguise after all.

One year later, at the Shah Alam Stadium, Malaysia was to take on Chelsea and fans were coming in droves. And I don’t think they were mainly consist of Chelsea fans. Well, obviously some do came to support the national team but I looked around and some of them were wearing Barcelona, Man United shirts and one even wore an England strip with the name ‘Rooney’ at the back. I think, coming to see Luiz Felipe Scolari and one of the finalists of last season’s Champion’s League is one attraction, but some quarters were there just to witness world-class football. Period. More so it has been quite a custom in recent years to have some fancy football team coming to our shores for a warm-up game before their actual season starts in Europe or a summer tournament and with last year’s dispute which left Man United unable to come and appease their fans, that hunger and anticipation never went fulfilled and you know when temptations are left unsatisfied. Suppress that for a year and the result is a near capacity Shah Alam Stadium. There were at least 50 000 football crazy fans present and Steve Darby correctly put it ‘This is what Shah Alam should be’. Because, honestly speaking, rarely has Shah Alam experience such a crowd, even when Selangor were doing well.

A huge crowd? That’s it? That’s your blessing in disguise? Well, I haven’t finished yet. The huge turnout was only the first part. The second part was the football match itself.

Chelsea, one of the elite teams in Europe against Malaysia, a team ranked 166th in the current FIFA rankings. Quite simply, it was a David vs Goliath match. What’s more, Chelsea thrashed their previous two opponents, Guangzhou Pharmaceuticals and Chengdu Blades 4-0 and 7-0 respectively. Certainly the omen did not look good for Malaysia. The coach promised a fighting display but we all heard that before. Usually a smokescreen for the inevitable.

However, the inevitable did not happen.

Malaysia, quite remarkably, played surprisingly well. And there was at least 50 000 people who bear witness to that. Probably millions more after Wednesday’s delayed telecast.

Finally, after years of frustration, the Malaysian national team came onto the field and turned on the style. And they did it, in the most acrimonious fashion yet. On home soil, against a team led by the England captain and in front of more than 50 000 local fans.

Sure the team lost and Chelsea only viewed it as a ‘match training’ but when you’re ranked 166th in the world, coming head to head even against Scott Sinclair’s explosive pace is a challenge in its own right. It did not matter Chelsea was not taking it seriously. Point is, Malaysia did and it showed.

No more evident were the long balls we were so accustomed to when the national team takes on foreign opposition. Balls were played out of defence. Attacks were coordinated through a series one-twos and short passes to take advantage of off the ball runs. Quite frankly, they were similar to Chelsea’s way of play. But of course, they are stronger, quicker and more technically gifted.

Even so, looking back at the result, a 2-0 loss is quite commendable. ‘2-0 is a football score. While 7-0 is not,’ pointed out Steve Darby. And those two goals were legitimately conceded. It was not a result of stupid or individual mistakes. They were not from corners, penalties, free kicks or own goals. The first one needed a pinpoint through pass from Joe Cole to release Anelka while the second came from a cleverly disguised shot from Lampard to feed Ashley Cole right in front of the keeper. Chelsea was made to work for them. Apart from that Mohd Helmi had blocked a shot well from a rampaging Michael Essien into the penalty area and took care of that volley from Deco. On the other end, Petr Cech was not left alone scratching his buttocks and was made to work on a couple of occasions. Including inside three minutes when Amirulhadi Zainal came bursting through only to drive his shot millimetres wide of the right post. Overall, despite Chelsea enjoying the bigger share of possession, Malaysia gave a good run for their money. As the statistics would show, each team had 10 attempts on goal. Chelsea had 6 on target while Malaysia had 4. Again, not bad. I even think that’s even better than some Premier League teams could manage.

Which now begs the question of how, by the power greyskull, did we manage to achieve that? How did we get the nerve and audacity of not just holding the world stars of Chelsea at bay but also trying to beat them at their own game of carefully constructed build-up play? Where did that composure, finesse and overall confidence come from? And almost successfully pulling it off? I’ll tell you one thing. It is not something coincidental. There’s a reason behind this change of philosophy. And akin to every football team who had experience such a transformation, credit can only be due to the head coach. As in this case, will the real B. Sathianathan please stand up?

Witnessing, then and there, how Malaysia put on a brave fight against the mighty Blues, it has become apparent that the Merdeka Tournament victory was no fluke at all. Far from it. It was rightfully earned. I would not lie to you that when Sultan Haji Ahmad Shah personally appointed him as the new head coach of the senior team right after the victory ceremony, I was one of the skeptics doubting his abilities.

Surely enough, the World Cup Qualifiers did not present any new surprises. Malaysia never stood a chance against the likes of Bahrain. And when the 2007 SEA Games came along, a priority tournament, we managed to get 1 win, 1 draw and 1 loss in the group stages which, inevitably, prevented us from reaching the semi-final stages for the first time since 1999. It was the same old story for Malaysia.

But as any frustrated and arrogant Malaysian football fan, I never actually saw those matches. Nor did I give much care. I only saw the results and dismissively disregard them just as much. And that is not how you assess a football team. Not even by watching them play on the telly. No. As that only gives you half the story. You do it just as how Sven-Goran Eriksson does it. By attending the matches yourself and seeing the action live on the pitch. And I am pleased to say that I was one of the thousands of people in Shah Alam that day who had their eyes opened of what’s really been going on with our national team. The enterprising play was uncanny.

Which again brings us the question. How did B. Sathianathan achieve what other previous national coaches have failed to do? That is, improving the national team and most importantly introducing a new style of play, which may well be offer something solid to fall back on in future development. And I think I know the answer.

Before the nation celebrated its emphatic victory in the Merdeka Tournament, before B. Sathinathan became a household name, before he became the coach of the Under 23 side, he was a coach for the Arsenal Soccer School Malaysia. Which means, at one point in time, he was working with a guidebook from the Emirates hierarchy that would include personal insights from Arsene Wenger himself on how to make your players play as he makes Fabregas & Co play. I knew there was something oddly familiar about that performance in Shah Alam. I was right about it being a little BPL-ly.

So, Malaysia following the Arsenal blueprint. Is it the right thing? Well, it should be. Too long now has the national team has been playing ugly football and you can only get way with it by winning something just like the Greeks did with Euro 04. Malaysia has not and that makes it rubbish. At least now we know how to play sexy football. And that, we can have no complaints. Kind of like Arsenal fans. And, kind of the Arsenal team, we’d probably win nothing either.

The Alternative Oscars

Best Gratuitous Nudity: Marisa Tomei, Before the Devil Knows You’re Dead

Actresses tend to be more willing to get naked onscreen when they’re young, unknown, and hungry. Lately, though, there’s been an influx of long-established celebs who suddenly become allergic to clothes as they hit middle age and the ingenue roles start drying up: Meg Ryan (In the Cut), Jennifer Aniston (as close as she’s ever come in The Break-Up), and now Tomei, who spends much of Sidney Lumet’s heist-gone-wrong picture parading around topless for no particular reason. Not only does she look delectable at 43, but her casual exposure gives this contrived and glibly cynical film a disarming frankness that it desperately needs.

-Mike D' Angelo (Esquire, March 2008)-

An Unofficial Football Fan

I really need to call Mei.

There’s certainly some form of payment to be involved but it’s fair considering the service I’m asking her to do for me.

I am a Chelsea supporter. For the past decade or so. I remember every triumph, every memorable goal and also every heartache. I have the current team roster at the tip of my tongue. Including their jersey numbers, positions and nationalities. To a non-football person, I seem like an ardent fan. Which I am but I don’t like to be viewed as one (except in cyberspace). Which explains why I am not a registered member of the Chelsea Supporters Club Malaysia despite being aware of its existence for a few years now.

It all seems too die-hardy for me. Because, let’s be honest, I was born in KL and it’s thousands of miles away from West London. And to refer ‘Chelsea’ as ‘we’ (as some devilish supporters tend to do when referring to their football club of choice) just seems too pretentious. As well as going to Modesto’s every Saturday and having a binge around a football match. So the thought of not joining CFC Malaysia never actually bothered me. That is, until yesterday.

Chelsea are playing Malaysia tonight (Tuesday) and being one of the top four teams of the BPL, they just can’t have a match here and not having any sort of commercial stunt while they’re at it. And for Chelsea, that stunt was an autograph session at the Adidas store at Pavilion KL yesterday evening.

Of course, I was all giddy and excited to at least get up close with John Terry or Frank Lampard despite finding out that it was to be a closed event merely hours before the actual thing. Meaning, permitted inside, along with the footballers, were guests of Adidas and select members of CFC Malaysia. At that moment I was beginning to lament my decision not to join up the club. But, hey, if I could just catch a glimpse of them from outside the store, I’d be happy enough.

As it turned out, as I made my way off the escalator, the size of the crowd assembled in front of the store was quite overwhelming. The whole entrance of the store was totally blocked out of view by the crowd. As I try to find way through the whole mess, as if like clockwork, chants of ‘Chelsea! Chelsea!’ began to resonate out of nowhere A clear sign the stars had arrived. People with camera phones, digital cameras and SLRs were all vying for viewing positions. To avoid the risk of being labeled as an asshole, I jostled only a bit and for all that trouble, in the end I only managed to get a glimpse, through the armpit of a mannequin at the display window, of what I think is the back of Michael Ballack’s head. My lament of not signing up as a fan club suddenly turned to regret.

Suddenly a late comer to the event bossed through the crowd, while talking on his phone, showed the security people his CFC Malaysia membership card and duly gained entrance. By then, I was tormented with rage. My decision, or lack of it, of not taking the trouble of merely signing up has came back to haunt me and it bit me right in the ass.

Collecting any sense of determination I had left, I inched myself towards the front of the crowd thinking if I didn’t catch them on their way in, maybe a little hope pose on their way out. As I edged towards my objective the security personnel stationed at the entrance suddenly held up his arms and announced something inaudible. His voice drowned out in the agitated crowd as I couldn’t make out his words as rather surprisingly, the crowd began to slowly disperse. Before I could figure out what exactly had happened, someone broke the news - The Chelsea players had left the premises. They exited through the back door. My hope evaporated. I was left a broken and exasperated man.

Exhaling heavily, I flicked open my phone and scrolled down the phonebook to ‘Mei (Chel Msia)’. A directory I entered years ago but never actually dialed the number. She is the contact person should anyone want to register as a member of CFC Malaysia. She will ask for a registration fee, no doubt. But, hey, if by it I could meet with Chelsea football players in the future in an event such as this, I’m way for it. Even if it is three years away, probably the next time they decide come to town but I’ll be damned if I’m going to let that dampen my spirit. Plus, I could use a Chelsea key chain right now.

I really do need to call Mei.

When Reading Is Bad

When Ed Burns finally admitted that he had cheated on her in The Holiday, Cameron Diaz, in all her melodramatic and emotional wreck fashion, threw out him out, hit him in the face and decided to take a break and go somewhere for peace and quiet or whatever it is people go away for. And, while at it, read a good book because it has been a long time since she had done so. And this is the part in which I do not understand.

While do people insist on reading a good book while on their breaks, holidays or vacations? To me people read books for the same reason they go to the movies. (And I mean fiction books and not something by Alan Greenspan or Warren Buffet. That would be just messed up.)

It is a form of escapism these fictions are. To take you on a ride along with the main characters as they live out their impossibly exciting life. Be it jetting around Europe with Sheldon, sidestepping KGB spies with Ludlum or just, I imagine, shopping relentlessly with Kinsella.

I mean, I understand the purpose of a good book while you are at home, lounging on a Sunday afternoon and the idea of a driving to a shopping mall for a two-hour flick just seems like a lot of trouble. I understand that. But on a holiday? What do you want to escape from? Why do you want to escape?

I have seen people on the beaches of Batu Feringgi hunkered down with sunglasses on, shutting the world out around them and divulging themselves in a novel. Why? You are on a beach on a beautiful day! And you’re reading? Get into the water, rent a jet ski, try parasailing, anything except reading a book! You could do that during lunch breaks in your office. Don’t tell me you have a banana boat laying around the office that you are not at least curious about the one with screaming people on it currently zipping around the water?

As in the scene in The Holiday, as Cameron Diaz tried to get some sleep on her first-class seat, a tall stack of books lay beside her and among them is Atonement. It’s one thing to try to read a book while on vacation, but another when the title of choice couldn’t be more depressing. It’s a fantastic story, the Ian McEwan novel, no doubt, but why read on the hardships surrounding World War II on a trip you’re supposed to be having fun? Doesn’t that somehow defeat the purpose?

However, one thing that scene did something right is this. While it’s morally criminal to read a book while you’re under the sun on a beach somewhere in Greece, it is not necessarily wrong to bring a book along or some enjoyable reading material during these trips. And the only time these items are viable to be used upon are during the journeys. Think about it. A dreary 9 hour flight is an ideal situation for any form of escapism. My sister in law, a flight attendant by profession, once went on a flight to Detroit as a passenger and admitted she almost lost her mind by boredom that she’d be more than happy to put on a uniform and work with the cabin crew then and there.

So, here’s another It’s A Guy Thing tip. If you’re planning of a trip somewhere, leave all those heavy New York Times Bestsellers at home because one, it’ll be less burdening to carry your luggage around especially at the destination and two, probably save you from the extra cost of excess baggage. Instead, pack something lighter in its place which will offer you twice as much fun. Try swimwear.

The Appropriation: Anne Hathaway

Women, children, and fans of Anna Wintour, it's time to relinquish your hold. Ms. Hathaway is ours. Part of the world of men. Her responsibilities here are minimal. Singular, actually: to be appreciated. We've tried before, but Hathaway (or her agent -- we prefer to blame her) made it impossible. Or impossible to admit. The Princess Diaries? Ella Enchanted? The Devil Wears Prada? Which of those could we mention, much less extol her abilities in, over beers with our friends? She suggested she was crossing over with her nude scene in Havoc -- only our theater was closed that day. Brokeback Mountain had promise, too, if it weren't for those attention-hogging cowboys and their Oscar-winning love story. But this month, clearly there's a smile on God's face. Ours, too. She's in a spy movie, Get Smart. Her costar is not a Jane Austen character; it's Steve Carell. She even knows karate. She avoids laser beams with a grace and sexuality Catherine Zeta-Jones only hinted at in Entrapment. And she's finally given us the courage to admit what we've felt all along. To Ms. Hathaway: At long last, welcome. We know you'll be happy here. At least we know we're happy to have you.

-Peter Martin (Esquire, July 2008)-

Why So Serious?

All who are fortunate enough to have driven the Bugatti Veyron have the same thing to say. It doesn’t matter what they have driven before – Ferraris, Lamborghinis, Porsches – this is in a different league. This is an F-15 in a world of propellers.

Each of its part has to be light and yet strong enough to handle a 1000 hp. Not for an hour or two, but for 10 or 20 years. Its engine is a fuse of 2 Audi V8s fitted with 4 turbo chargers which means it produces a massive amount of heat. So while your car has one radiator, this has 10.

And while other supercars feel like it’s going to disintegrate when it approaches 200 mph, the Veyron just feels so planted, so safe, you’re completely unfazed by it. It would reach from 0 to 100 kmh in under 2.8 seconds and on its way to reaching its top speed of 407 kmh, it changes its shape.

Quite simply, this car is a masterpiece.

And so is The Dark Knight.

While Steven and his friend George try to figure out how to fit an alien into yet another adventure movie, Woody busy casting Scarlett Johansson and M. Night who just couldn’t get enough of himself, a British director by the name of Christopher decided to turn the latest Batman installment into something that goes beyond the comic book genre. So far beyond that it even surpasses some of the well known movies of other genres. Barely a week in into its release, the general consensus is that (as the US$155 million opening weekend grossing would suggest) not only it is the best Batman flick ever, it’s one of the best movies. Period.

With the Joker being the arch nemesis, one cannot look further beyond the 1989 Batman for a direct comparison. 19 years has past since but such is the iconic symbol of Jack Nicholson’s portrayal that the memory still lingers fresh in the mind. Who in their right mind would even attempt to take Jack Nicholson role head on? One that holds a personal satisfaction to the legendary actor himself? No one but Heath. And you could lavish him with praise as there is no way to come out of this successfully without redefining the character that will blow people’s mind away and he did just that.

What is so special about Heath’s performance is that he took the rule book on how to play the Joker and tore it apart. Ever since he made his comic book appearance, there’s this recurring theme about the Joker. He’s a crazy clown with the tendency to kill people. But in The Dark Knight, he’s a psychotic anarchist with a penchant for mind manipulation. A seed of chaos. There’s a difference between crazy and psychotic. Norman Bates is crazy. Psychotic is how you describe Hannibal Lecter. As a matter of fact, Hannibal has long been regarded as the best movie villain ever. I think he just discovered a serious challenger to his throne.

It’s probably nuts to expect a superhero movie such as The Dark Knight to receive an Oscar nomination, not the least being it’s only July. And it still is, even after seeing it. But, the thing is, we’ve been looking it the wrong way. It is not a superhero movie. Not a comic book adaptation. It’s a crime saga. Along the likes of The Untouchables, Goodfellas and maybe even The Godfather. Not a far stretch since what Heath Ledger did to the Joker is akin to what Marlon Brando did to Don Vito Corleone. Visually unrecognizable and yet brilliantly arresting.

However, one could go on and on about the technical aspects of the film. The explosions, the gadgetry, the cinematography and even the acting prowess at hand. But what will make this film go down in history as one of the finest in our modern times is what it represents.

The thing about Christopher Nolan is that he doesn’t clonk you over the head with his genius. While he’s become more visually sophisticated over the course of his short career, he still has no use for the look-at-me camera moves. Nor does he seem to care whether people notice that his clever, gimmicky narratives conceal deep and unsettling questions about human nature.

Look past the creepy poignance of Heath Ledger’s posthumous performance of carved grimace and prankster sadism to see the stealthy, oddly underappreciated virtuoso of the piece.

This is a masterpiece.

This is the perfect film.



Ref:
Jeremy Clarkson Supercar Showdown
Greatest Director Alive by Mike D'Angelo, Esquire July 2008

A New Bowling Queen

Zandra Aziela.

Remember that name, as she will be our next bowling queen. Plus, she's hot.

She's been in the news lately. And, quite frankly, I wouldn't even bother glancing at the bowling section if it weren't for her.

So, a little heads up. Don't be too surprised if one day she knocks out Nicol David as the most talked about female sports player in our country.

This is the only decent picture of her I can put without risking being sued by MTBC. But, just so you know, she does has a Facebook account.

She's Single Again!

I should not be saying this. Actually, it’s even morally wrong, but guys rejoice! Nora Danish is single again!

With this, it has been confirmed what every heterosexual male in Malaysia has been saying all this time. Girl, that man ain’t right for ya.

Seriously, what kind of man who decides to leave his wife when she’s two months pregnant? That man is a shame to danglers the world over. I’m sorry, ladies, it’s just that some guys are really worse pigs than others. I mean, just look at her. That’s her on one of the worst days in her life. Can you imagine what a bubbly Nora Danish look like? Sure, her work has been mostly rubbish but who cares?

A person like Nora Danish should never have gotten married in the first place. Someone like her should be single for as long as possible as she spreads joy and happiness to the male population the nation over. It gives the lesser man the faintest bit of hope, while she’s single, that he actually has a chance. And as everyone knows, hope is good.

Remember how much fun we had when Normala was once again single? Wasn’t it nice to indulge in such lucid fantasies? Or when Erra went down the same route a little while back? Truth is, we are devoid of decent looking female celebrities lately, ones that we can drool about. Not some AF graduates.

As for Nora Danish: Welcome back. We missed you. XOXO

A 'Rare' Price

You know the problem with rare items? First they are nearly impossible to find and second, when you do it’s overly priced. Which suddenly boils down to, no longer a question of money, but of morality.

Case in point:

Thanks to my recently acquired hobby of online sneaker hunting, I came across a newsflash on Sole What?’s webpage promoting it’s latest line of totally special, one-off t-shirts. It’s the Aki Hoshino Sneaker Lover Classics collection. Basically they are a bunch of white tees made by KIKS TYO, featuring popular Japanese bikini idol, model and actress Aki Hoshino and photographed by celebrated Tokyo-based photographer Yasumasa Yonehara. Or simply put,

And yes, they are rare. Miss this chance to buy them this time, and you’ll never get the chance again. Ever. That’s right, it’s a cruel world indeed.

Hyped up by the buzz, I went to Sole What? myself to check them out earlier today. Upon closer inspection, I’d say quality wise, I couldn’t say they are any better than what I can get at Jusco, but then again, none of them features a Japanese bikini idol, in full colour, half naked and licking her lips while laying on a sofa, surrounded by sneakers. Okay, that last part does sound kinda weird but dude, it’s still hot.

The irresponsible child inside me just want to grab a whole bunch of them and go straight to the counter while reaching for my wallet, but what dignity I have left inside me somehow managed to rationalize, even for a brief second, to at least, take the trouble of inspecting the price tag. And this was when my world fell apart.

Okay, rough estimate, a regular t-shirt, with a colourful print on it and, yeah, put a ‘special’ tag for entertainment purposes, what your guess on the price? Come on give me a rough figure. You know what? Make it a crazy figure, a ridiculous one, ‘cause, hey, we are talking about a rare item here. So, come one. Tell you what, to help you out, I’d give some pointers. You know the Nike t-shirts featuring the national teams during Euro 08? Portugal, Italy, Spain and Germany? Retailed at RM85 each when they first came out. Silly, for a t-shirt, right? My brother even calls it ‘stupid’. A regular Lacoste polo which featured nothing except for that little crocodile badge, has a RM129 as its price tag. Again, silly, right? So I put my silly estimate around that figure. RM100+ for a white tee. RM150 if they really go that crazy.

You want to know the actual price? Are you ready for this? I thought I was but I wasn’t. You ready? The retail price for a KIKS TYO X Aki Hoshino X Yone t-shirt is, hold your breath, RM259.

Fuck me! So help me god!

259 bucks! Two hundred and fifty nine fuckin’ ringgit! Are you shitting me!? Honestly, people, the moment I saw that price, the impact suddenly made me lost my drive to get a pair of Tigers that day. I was planning to celebrate a new pair of shoes today but that Aki Hoshino tee, my god, just blew out my candle. RM259 for a t-shirt is no longer question about money, but has turn into a question of morality. Just think what you can do with RM259. I can buy another pair of shoes. Well, maybe not Tigers but Nike futsal shoes, yeah. I’d even have some leftover. Or I could get a really nice leather wallet, you know. Something classy. Braun Buffel, maybe. Or a nice Raoul shirt, or even a designer tie. Even a full package during those weekend trips with Ridhu. Although, that’s probably not the best way to spend all that money (or some might argue).

Point is, the fluctuation as a direct consequence of the word ‘rare’ or ‘special’ whatever, really just pisses me off! I love rare items, I thrive on them, but then again, look at what I have to deal with!

You know what? Screwed up part is, chances are, my inner child will once again triumph in this argument and I probably can’t help myself succumb to temptation and purchase a Sneaker Lover t-shirt. The one which she sticks her tongue out.

So, if you ever see me walk around in that said garment, I give you complete license to smack me right in the face and tell me what an embarrassment I have been but dude, first CHECK OUT MY AKI HOSHINO T-SHIRT!!

Press play, you'll love this.

Action? Oh Yeah. -Ish

It’s been described as one of the best Wimbledon final ever, the Nadal – Federer last night, which ended at 4.30 am local time. It went through 62 games. Beating the previous record of 55 between Bjorn Borg and John McEnroe. And I missed it. Well, not on purpose. As a matter of fact, looking back at what took place, I kind of wished I hadn’t. Ever since Ivanovic bowed out of the competition, I just lost interest in the whole thing. On a side note, what’s with the theory that she couldn’t perform because the gap between Roland Garros and Wimbledon is barely non-existent and a player needs a long preparation period to do well at SW6? Well, then, how do you explain Nadal? I know he’s a freakish testosterone driven tennis machine and Ana is just basically a 20-year-old chick but, ah, forget about it.

Point is, I would have caught that final yesterday that is, if I hadn’t got any action! Oh yeah! That’s right, baby! I did. I rock!

Okay, that may sound a little bit exaggerated but yes, I did went out with a few people despite it was being a Sunday evening. We were planning to watch Hancock, but the soonest available show was 3 hours away so it turned into a bowling plan. When that too didn’t happen, it almost turned into a batting cage session when finally we ended up at an eatery called William somewhere in SS2, which is a wonderful place (figuratively) because it offers incredible food at half the price as compared to any other fancy restaurants in the region. Even Tony Roma’s. If I had to choose, it would be, well, depends on the occasion. If it’s a hot date, then it’ll be Tony’s. If it’s just a bunch of buddies who happen to be really, really hungry, it’s William hands down. Or Murni.

Here I am talking about food again. Let’s change the subject. How about shoes? Let’s talk about shoes. This is becoming a recurring thing, doesn’t it?

It’s about Macbeth. For those of you who think I’m referring to anything Shakespearean, obviously you don’t know me. Or googled the wrong blog. Though it does remind me of a funny Blackadder episode. Anyway, it’s a shoe brand, very rock-ish. Made popular by Blink-182 and up until last Thursday, unavailable anywhere in Malaysia. Closest you can get a pair was by crossing the causeway to Singapore. But fret no more, 27 Heaven at Cineleisure is finally bringing them to our shores. Safe to say, I’m eyeing a pair for myself but I’ll hang on for the time being, waiting for them to stock up properly first. Unlike most people, I try my best not to buy on impulse. Except for those ‘health’ trips I take with Ridhu. On second thought, they were more towards services rendered. Once, I came home with the smell of women’s perfume all over me. That was an awkward moment. Speaking of women, Tita was present as well during yesterday’s attempt of having a good time albeit briefly. Hey, as long as there a chick as hot as her lingering with us losers, it’s always considered a good outing.

Hey, it is a recurring theme. Food, shoes then women. Geez, I hope you don’t find this boring.

Back To Basics

Wow, it has been awhile, hasn’t it? That Italy elimination really left me in tatters, so to speak. That or maybe I was just too damn lazy to write anything lately. Most probably the lazy thing. But, since here I am, let’s go!

First of all, we are not going to talk about football today. Well, okay, maybe not that much because, hey, I have to mention Spain’s victory and congratulate them. You know, they worked hard for it (those pricks!). So, post-Euro 08, things are getting back to somewhat normal again. Most importantly, I no longer have to divide my sleeping hours into two phases, so I could last the 3-5am matches. You know, that sleeping habit was really taxing. And half the time it doesn’t work. Like the Germany Croatia semis. I was left to bear out Shebby’s comments during the highlights segment to know what happened in that game. Believe me, I wished there had been other ways.

But, enough about football.

Geez, come to think of it, now I don’t know where to start. We could talk about food, which would mean that I’d be talking about Tony Roma’s which I finally had the chance to dine at for the first time after all this while. And the verdict? Man, I could not wait for my next visit. Yes, it’s pricey but the portions, oh, they’re so generous. And what I liked most about was the option of four tantalizing sauces at your disposal, just sitting there on your table. And I only ordered chicken. God knows what they’ll give me should I ordered ribs, which were their specialty. Ribs, man, ribs. Grilled to perfection. Cholesterol never tasted so good.

Or, I could talk about movies. The latest being The Happening. But I usually reserve movie reviews on Flixster. They got stars and pictures I can dabble with. It adds a nice touch. And yes, I, too, was disappointed with Happening. Especially the absence of the normal twist at the end which I was really looking forward to in every M Night movies.

Or shoes, I can talk about shoes. I can’t believe this but I actually want to talk about shoes. Particularly Onitsuka Tigers.

I asked someone, if I was in the market for some cool shoes for, y’know, leisurely purposes, what kind of shoes I should be getting. Because, I’d be honest, I haven’t bought shoes for myself for a very long time and I realized that fact when someone asked what my shoe size were and I couldn’t remember that I had to guess. It was a clear indication I need some new kicks.

So, this friend recommended a pair of Converse or better, Onitsuka Tigers. At first I couldn’t even spell the damn brand until by accident I stumbled across Sole What? at The Gardens. It is one of the few shoe stores in the whole of Klang Valley to be selling these shoes. And hence, the birth of my somewhat obsession with the brand. I googled it, wiki-ed it, went to sneaker forums, you name it. Until I came up with a list of the stores that were selling this brand and it’s not a long list. Which in a way suggests the rarity of these shoes in the Malaysian market. And I’m such a sucker for rare items. So, for the past few days, I have been scouting the shopping malls of Klang Valley for the stores which offer the most options of Tigers. And so far, it’s Ecko Unltd at OU. They have a whole wall of Tigers, unlike other stores at which one only had six pairs on display. Like, come on! And while snooping around, I came across another brand called K-Swiss which looks kinda cool too. In a very hip-hop artists kind of way. Then, I started to worry because I beginning to sound so much like Turtle. Next thing I know, I’ll be wearing a cap in reverse. Oh wait, I already did that at Sunburst. Damn it! And why did I refer shoes as kicks!?

Okay, okay, okay. You know what we need to be talking about here? Women. Boo-yah! That’s right. Sometimes, I just forget the purpose of this blog. Talking about women can be so much fun. Except maybe for the fact that there’s nothing much to go on about currently. I mean, I do have something but, you know, the same ol’ usual suspects. Mostly Eiwa, which I find rather peculiar if she hasn’t found out about this blog already. I mean, lesser people have stumbled across this page one way or another and yet, well, to be fair I only meet her on very rare occasions and the subject of ‘hey, I read your blog the other day talking about me in a very sexual manner and it kinds of turn me on’ is unlikely to come up during those brief moments. Especially the ‘turn me on’ part. Which is what I’m totally going to do today. That is talking about her in a very sexual manner.

I saw her the other day. Which is about two weeks ago. Depends on when did Petronas held its Open Day at Permata. My brother was overlooking the go-kart joint so the whole family stopped by to check it out, so to speak. But we were there only briefly because we arrived late and it was nearly noon so you can only imagine how hot it was getting over there. I am so prone to heat strokes. Anyway, a funny thing happened when I was visiting one of the booths. It was a foot massaging booth, and sitting on a stool next to me while I was looking around was an old man, nonchalantly puffing cigarette smoke which happens to be in a confined space filled with people. Annoyed, I intend to give him the stink-eye. However, upon closer inspection I realized I recognized that white hair and moustache despite the face turned away and under a blue cap. And I was right, it was Tan Sri Hassan himself. First thought though, well, he’s still wrong and being unreasonable at that to be smoking in a crowd of people but then again, recalling the stick he’s been getting from some sections of the public around that time, I decided to give him a break. Me, a schmuck giving the President and CEO of the largest corporation of Malaysia a break. But I did. He may not realize it but I did.

It was around the time I left the foot massage tent that I caught the sight of Eiwa. At first I wasn’t sure if it was her but it was very likely to she would be present. She stood far away and it was only a glancing view but after those years of obsessing about her, I could recognize that body from a mile away. If I wasn’t mistaken, she seem to have put on a little weight, which is good because I always though she was too skinny for her own good at times. When will women understand we men hardly go for a Kate Moss, or the current version of Keira Knightley as of late. A little JLo wouldn’t hurt anyone. And we can never get enough of Beyonce. All for more loving. Which was why I was so pleased to see Eiwa that way. Of course, I couldn’t yell out to her to come over for one I didn’t want to draw any attention and two, my mother was right next to me. No, it would too weird and uncomfortable for both of us. Greg Fokker isn’t just my style. Again, as many times before, I just watched her from afar. Thinking how hot she would look dripping naked. How would I love to eat her up. And on cue, there’s Tan Sri Hassan walking out all by himself. Those official BMW Sauber F1 sneakers really do look snazzy. Very rare. Very nice. One of the perks, huh?

As for Bunga, well, quite some time since I talked about her too, huh? Sad thing is I wasn’t able to attend the last two futsal sessions. Bummer. ‘Cause I really missed her in those grey sweat pants. Those things really catch the contours of her ass and thighs nicely. Very sexy. Sometimes she would stand, hands on hips, putting her weight on one foot while waiting for the ball to come to her and that is a Kodak moment for me, every time. I could snap her picture, put it as my wallpaper and be very happy for a long time. And be called a stalker and never get invited to play ever again.

Last time I came to play, she said hi to me and it was my highlight of the day. Probably the week. She is just that hot to me. And, to…that…boyfriend of hers. You know, in her Facebook status she lists herself as single but in the photo gallery, numerous pictures of them cuddling with each other. It really sorts of messes up my mind. Do we mortals still have a chance, or anything? Maybe it’s one of those Andi-Greg things going on. ‘We’re seeing each other but it’s too early to call us a couple’ thing. And it’s us who got commitment issues. BS. Oh yeah, I’m into Reaper right now. I just downloaded and watched the whole 18 episodes of the first season in under 5 days. It’s sick, I know, but the show’s pretty funny and 8TV only air it on Friday nights, with no repeats. Who on earth purposely stay at home at 10 pm on a Friday night just to catch a one hour show? I just had to get it out of my conscience, quickly. That’s another reason why I haven’t been writing lately.

You know what? One thing I really need right now? A fucking date. In every sense of the word.

Ah shit, I got a feeling it’s going to be one of those cycles again. I wouldn’t be surprised if one these days I’d be writing one of those ‘I need a girlfriend’ post. Fuck! I hate it when it turn so vulnerable.

Dude, I need to get some action. It Sunday afternoon, I know, hardly a chance, but what the hell.

Hang loose, bee-yatch!

It's a Bleak Future for Italia Calcio

You know, somehow, “I told you so” just doesn’t quite say it. (Will Smith, I, Robot)

I wished I was wrong. I wanted so much to be wrong. But, it seems, you can’t be wrong all the time.

Italy were dumped out of Euro 08. And they only have themselves to blame. Especially Luca Toni, who managed to go home without scoring a single goal throughout the tournament, despite playing all the minutes of all Italy’s 4 matches. Even the Swiss has a three goal hero in Hakan Yakin. How embarrassing. And you call yourself Italy’s top marksman.

Want to know the saddest part is? Of all the other big teams that already went out, Italy has the least likely next generation of players to make it big in the near future. France has Benzema, Nasri, Ribery to take care of them for the next World Cup and beyond. For the Dutch, Sneijder, Robben, Van der Vaart has still much to offer. And even should the Germans and Spanish bow out, the likes of Podolski, Schweinsteiger and the trio of Villa, Torres and Fabregas would inflict fear in the opposition just the mere mention of their names. As for Italy? De Rossi is probably the only bright spark to come out of this competition but hardly to be considered world-class. This is what you pay for keeping faith with the old guard while ignoring the perilous consequences.

Materazzi and Cannavaro should leave the squad. As with Del Piero, Zambrotta, Panucci and maybe even that Toni fellow. Problem is, who are the able replacements? Chiellini looks somewhat the deal despite starting off as a left back. Barzagli, despite his regular inclusion in the national team, only managed a summer move to Wolfsburg. Aquilani is promising but still has a long way to go before able to command a midfield on his own. As for Perotta, resembles a Defoe, showed tremendous potential at club level, but yet to translate to the international scene.

And the attack, oh god, the attack! Where’s the next great Italian striker? Where’s the next Mazzola? The next Riva? Baggio? Inzaghi? Vieri? Clearly the man from Bayern could not do the business and being a late developer of the game does not help his cause. What hope is there left? The repugnant Cassano? Maybe there’s hope in the form of a certain Marco Borriello, recently signed by Milan, to replace another failed investment in Alberto Gilardino.

As the team look back on Euro 08, maybe they’d realize something more could have been done but what’s most troubling is the immediate future. If England has problems, Italy are looking at a potential train wreck.

Dear Luca Toni

Dear Mr. Toni,

For fuck's sake, why the fuckin' hell wouldn;t you score? You scored 39 goals in 47 matches for Bayern, but you couldn't even trouble Coupet? Honestly, he's not that good. Please, don't be like Mario Gomez. Italy does not the luxury of having the likes of Podolski and Klose amongst the ranks. You're all the nation have for goals. Who else to depend on? Del Piero? We all know what happen the last time we did that.

So, please, Mr. Toni, I beg of you,make the Spanish defence remember you. And for the right reasons.

Your caring Italian fan,
Badoque.

In Pursuit of Movies

In honour of M. Night Shyamalan’s latest offering, The Happening, due to be released soon, Yahoo! Movies decided to list down 20 movies with some of the greatest ending twists.

This, inadvertedly, has intrigued me. So, let’s see, films on the list which I already have seen are:

1. The Sixth Sense
2. The Others
3. Saw
4. Empire Strikes Back
5. Fight Club
6. Primal Fear
7. No Way Out
8. 12 Monkeys
9. Arlington Road
10. The Usual Suspects

And the ones I haven’t are:

1. Citizen Kane
2. Soylent Green
3. Planet of the Apes
4. Basic Instinct
5. The Crying Game
6. Psycho
7. Dressed To Kill
8. The Sting
9. Chinatown
10. Angel Heart

Hey, they’re evenly balanced. Didn’t quite sure I was expecting that. Anyway, all this is to further fill my pursuit in watching unsung movies. For instance, just recently, I managed to see Donnie Darko. If you haven’t heard of it, don’t be ashamed because I didn’t either until I was quizzed by Flixster. Curiosity beckoned, I searched it on IMDB and found out it got a pretty good rating. So I decided it was a movie worth checking out, despite being a 2001 production. It took quite an effort. I even multiple legitimate video stores because I was so desperate I’d pay extra for an original copy. But the sales people were clueless as well, as if the movie never even existed. Finally, after consulting some people, I managed to find a torrent for it. I was so happy I watch it the minute it finished downloading. And it is good. A 6 foot bunny telling you when doomsday is coming is really intriguing. And it’s one of those movies that gets better every time you watch it. A noir film at its best.

After that point on, I was hooked.

Next on my list is Say Anything. A romantic comedy starring John Cusack and a personal favorite of Jessica Alba. It isn’t as good as Darko but entertaining nonetheless. Chicks will definitely love it. If you wanna have a stay-in movie date, this movie is perfect. It worked for Jessica.

Still wrapped in its packaging in my room is Risky Business. The movie where Tom Cruise made his big break.

It has become sort of a hobby of late. And that list of 10 movies that I have yet to see really gives me a buzz. Especially after reading the synopsis of Soylent Green. Though, I’m not so sure of Psycho, as too much has been said about it and Planet of the Apes since I saw the Mark Wahlberg remake. But for things like Angel Heart and Chinatown, the hunt is afoot yet again!