“Respect your rivals,
try to be as honest as possible
& enjoy as much as you can.”
-- Ronaldinho (World Footballer of 2004 & 2005)
on what constitutes ‘Joga Bonito’
See how truly legendary Ronaldinho is in the "Joy" Joga Bonito ad
Wednesday, April 05, 2006
Tuesday, April 04, 2006
2 bitters & a sweet thang
Whoa. Can't believe it's April already. What did the last month bring?
Well, March was a bittersweet journey for me. Actually, more bitter than it was sweet.
First bitter issue in the month of March: work. The bosses are hiking up the stress levels, pressuring each and every member of my team to come up with award-winning creatives. The shittier part is, we have two bosses to go through—Ms Creative Director, and her big boss, Mr Executive Creative Director. And these two are as similar as night is to day, i.e. the former’s idea of a kick-ass idea is the latter’s yawn-inducer. And we gotta please both of them. Near-impossible task, people. Tension tension tension.
On top of that, I am still on contract. It’ll be two years come June. Meaning, I haven’t had any annual leave for almost 24 months. Meaning, whenever I go MIA, it’s on unpaid leave. Meaning, not only do I have to pay for my own medical bills, but when I’m on MC, I get zilch. Meaning, I think I’m shortchanged here.
Their excuse? Headcount issues. My take? My ass! I’m the only writer on my team, they obviously need me, and they can still hide behind this lame-ass justification? Puh-lease. Friggin cheapskates.
Anyways, on to my second bitter highlight en el mes de marzo. My true passion, futsal. My team have been working our butts off for this one particular annual ladies-only tournament, sponsored by popular TV show 3R. This year, the 3R tournament entered its third edition. You’d think that it could only be better than last year’s right? WRONG. To cut a super-long story short, the organisers of this year’s don’t give two shits about how far the local ladies futsal has come. We paid them for a futsal tournament, they gave us a triathlon instead.
The preliminaries were held at the usual futsal venue in Sunway. Prior to that, a manager’s meeting was held. Typically, this is an avenue for discussion between team managers/captains and the organisers. This time, however, it was more a one-way street—the organisers announced the way they wanted the tournament to run, and no worries nor suggestions were entertained.
Tournament day came, prelims played. Representatives from the last ten remaining teams (out of 60) stayed for the manager’s meeting. Again, it was a one-way communication. What’s worse, the organisers couldn’t even agree on a format, and were screaming at each other like little brats.
Worst still, the organisers announced that the ten finalists would not be playing futsal per se at the (so-called) Grand Finals, scheduled for two weeks after. Why? Because the organisers wanted to “showcase” ladies futsal to the public by having the Grand Finals at Berjaya Times Square. INSIDE Berjaya Times Square.
Meaning, the court size was a joke. Worst still, the rules were an even bigger joke. It was a mish-mash of sports… Borrowing the words of the Fly FM promo, “Made from 80% street soccer, three cubes of futsal, a little hockey, and voila!”
I kid you not. In the supposed interest of “protecting” the players, we futsallers were forced to play a game which we aren't familiar with. Kick-off the futsal way. The rest of the rules, follow street soccer, i.e. no entering the D, keepers can’t defend outside her D, keepers can’t throw in, oh, and kick-ins within close proximity only, a la like hockey. WTF?
On top of that, the intelligent organisers refused to pay extra to put upper netting. Meaning, they couldn’t give two cahoots about safety. I mean, come on, this is a game of ball. It don’t take no fortune teller to foresee that without upper netting, the ball might just bloody well go up so high, it’ll break something. Or worst still, some poor child’s head. But nooo, the organisers are too dense to think of such things. Anyways, halfway through our Grand Final games, organisers called for a short meeting with team managers.
“You guys have to keep the ball low. Please control your shots. Berjaya have warned us that if the ball goes over once more, they might just put a halt to today’s event. Please help us out, yeah, or else if anything breaks, we organisers gotta pay for it.”
The nerve! When we demanded “why didn’t you put upper netting?!” they just did what they do best—ignore.
Now you tell me. How are we supposed to play our usual game of futsal—the thing we’ve been working at for the past three-or-so years—with such restrictions?
And the golden question: how do they expect people to take our beloved local ladies futsal seriously when they witness such idiocy (i.e. a banner that says “Grand Finals of Ladies Futsal” but see us ladies playing, in the words of the ref, “like a bunch of piranhas attacking the ball”)? Very, very upsetting this.
Thanks gosh for my sweet thang au mois de marche. Can’t really get too much into this just yet, but let’s just say this wildcat has finally found a home that she's comfortable in. Purr ;)
Well, March was a bittersweet journey for me. Actually, more bitter than it was sweet.
First bitter issue in the month of March: work. The bosses are hiking up the stress levels, pressuring each and every member of my team to come up with award-winning creatives. The shittier part is, we have two bosses to go through—Ms Creative Director, and her big boss, Mr Executive Creative Director. And these two are as similar as night is to day, i.e. the former’s idea of a kick-ass idea is the latter’s yawn-inducer. And we gotta please both of them. Near-impossible task, people. Tension tension tension.
On top of that, I am still on contract. It’ll be two years come June. Meaning, I haven’t had any annual leave for almost 24 months. Meaning, whenever I go MIA, it’s on unpaid leave. Meaning, not only do I have to pay for my own medical bills, but when I’m on MC, I get zilch. Meaning, I think I’m shortchanged here.
Their excuse? Headcount issues. My take? My ass! I’m the only writer on my team, they obviously need me, and they can still hide behind this lame-ass justification? Puh-lease. Friggin cheapskates.
Anyways, on to my second bitter highlight en el mes de marzo. My true passion, futsal. My team have been working our butts off for this one particular annual ladies-only tournament, sponsored by popular TV show 3R. This year, the 3R tournament entered its third edition. You’d think that it could only be better than last year’s right? WRONG. To cut a super-long story short, the organisers of this year’s don’t give two shits about how far the local ladies futsal has come. We paid them for a futsal tournament, they gave us a triathlon instead.
The preliminaries were held at the usual futsal venue in Sunway. Prior to that, a manager’s meeting was held. Typically, this is an avenue for discussion between team managers/captains and the organisers. This time, however, it was more a one-way street—the organisers announced the way they wanted the tournament to run, and no worries nor suggestions were entertained.
Tournament day came, prelims played. Representatives from the last ten remaining teams (out of 60) stayed for the manager’s meeting. Again, it was a one-way communication. What’s worse, the organisers couldn’t even agree on a format, and were screaming at each other like little brats.
Worst still, the organisers announced that the ten finalists would not be playing futsal per se at the (so-called) Grand Finals, scheduled for two weeks after. Why? Because the organisers wanted to “showcase” ladies futsal to the public by having the Grand Finals at Berjaya Times Square. INSIDE Berjaya Times Square.
Meaning, the court size was a joke. Worst still, the rules were an even bigger joke. It was a mish-mash of sports… Borrowing the words of the Fly FM promo, “Made from 80% street soccer, three cubes of futsal, a little hockey, and voila!”
I kid you not. In the supposed interest of “protecting” the players, we futsallers were forced to play a game which we aren't familiar with. Kick-off the futsal way. The rest of the rules, follow street soccer, i.e. no entering the D, keepers can’t defend outside her D, keepers can’t throw in, oh, and kick-ins within close proximity only, a la like hockey. WTF?
On top of that, the intelligent organisers refused to pay extra to put upper netting. Meaning, they couldn’t give two cahoots about safety. I mean, come on, this is a game of ball. It don’t take no fortune teller to foresee that without upper netting, the ball might just bloody well go up so high, it’ll break something. Or worst still, some poor child’s head. But nooo, the organisers are too dense to think of such things. Anyways, halfway through our Grand Final games, organisers called for a short meeting with team managers.
“You guys have to keep the ball low. Please control your shots. Berjaya have warned us that if the ball goes over once more, they might just put a halt to today’s event. Please help us out, yeah, or else if anything breaks, we organisers gotta pay for it.”
The nerve! When we demanded “why didn’t you put upper netting?!” they just did what they do best—ignore.
Now you tell me. How are we supposed to play our usual game of futsal—the thing we’ve been working at for the past three-or-so years—with such restrictions?
And the golden question: how do they expect people to take our beloved local ladies futsal seriously when they witness such idiocy (i.e. a banner that says “Grand Finals of Ladies Futsal” but see us ladies playing, in the words of the ref, “like a bunch of piranhas attacking the ball”)? Very, very upsetting this.
Thanks gosh for my sweet thang au mois de marche. Can’t really get too much into this just yet, but let’s just say this wildcat has finally found a home that she's comfortable in. Purr ;)
Thursday, March 30, 2006
ruud awakening
After weeks of being sidelined, Manchester United's Ruud van Nistelrooy became the solo hero for his Red Devils side by scoring the only goal in his comeback game this morning (EPL face-off versus West Ham).
The good news is, the win put us 5 points clear of closest opponent, Liverpool. That, and we've got a game in hand.
The better news is, the win put us just 9 points behind current leaders Chelsea. And, we have one game in hand.
The gap's narrowing. Keep the faith, people. Gotta keep the faith.
GLORY GLORY MAN UNITED!
~*~
On a more sombre note…
How dare they! MY Andriy!!!
Sigh. If this is true, I sure hope that Chelsea will meet AC Milan next season, and the Blues will get their asses whopped… by Hernán Crespo, no less.
Hah.
HaH!
HAH!!!
The good news is, the win put us 5 points clear of closest opponent, Liverpool. That, and we've got a game in hand.The better news is, the win put us just 9 points behind current leaders Chelsea. And, we have one game in hand.
The gap's narrowing. Keep the faith, people. Gotta keep the faith.
GLORY GLORY MAN UNITED!
~*~
On a more sombre note…
Roman Abramovich's persistence in trying to add Milan's Andriy Shevchenko to Chelsea's payroll seems to have paid off, with reports suggesting that the Ukraine striker will sign for the Stamford Bridge club this summer.
Chelsea's owner has been courting Shevchenko for three years but had been turned down three times. However, the Russian billionaire appears to have made it fourth time lucky, with Shevchenko agreeing in principle to a four-year contract worth in excess of £110,000 a week.
Personal terms have apparently been agreed with the player and Chelsea have been assured that he is prepared to put in a transfer request to Milan.
The San Siro club value him at £35m but Chelsea would appear to be content—and wealthy enough—to afford such a fee, even on top of nearly £23m in wages which they would have to pay the player for his services over those four years. However, the £10m-rated Argentinian Hernán Crespo could go the other way in part exchange. -- The Guardian
How dare they! MY Andriy!!!
Sigh. If this is true, I sure hope that Chelsea will meet AC Milan next season, and the Blues will get their asses whopped… by Hernán Crespo, no less.
Hah.
HaH!
HAH!!!
Monday, March 27, 2006
my once true love
I've always had a soft spot for rhythmic gymnastics.
How could I not, since I myself meddled in the sport for three years of my life. Unfortunately, due to the "sexy" nature of it all, I made the painful choice to quit when I was 12.
Let me tell you that not a day goes by that I don't wonder how different my life would be should I have chosen to fight on. Don't get me wrong, I do not regret my decision. I mean, some of the fondest memories I have are ones from when I was in secondary school, ones that would not have been created should I have kept the tight training schedule I had in my upper-primary years.
It's just that, how can I not stop to ponder over this ever so often when most of my friends whom I used to train with under the guidance of Ms Petrina Low went on to become this country's top gymnasts!
You've got that right. My alma mater, Convent Bukit Nanas (CBN for short), produced quite a number of legendary talents. Farrah Hani Imran. Farah Zelinah Kemal. And even Durratun Nashihin Rosli.
Yes, the same Durratun who dazzled her way on the dancefloor to become the darling of our Commonwealth Games 2006 contingent. The same Durratun who amassed a whopping four silvers, making herself the Malaysian athlete bringing back the most number of medals for our country.
Watching her strut her stuff on the idiot box, I must say how amazed I am at how far the sport has gone in this country. Full of pride and amazement, I am.
And for you people who reckon "playing around with a hoola-hoop, bouncing a ball, and twirling a ribbon is hardly a serious sport," well, reckon again. Consider the countless hours of training per week (try juggling a six-hour daily sweating session with studies), the endless injuries, the lack of life outside the gym...Oh, not to mention, the truly unforgiving diet to stay as stick-thin as possible but still have the energy and stamina to do all of the above!
Also, here's something for you to ponder over: for the four silvers that she's brought
back from OZ, Durratun has pocketed over RM130,000! You see, under the National Sports Council (NSC) incentive programme, an individual gold is worth RM80,000, a silver RM40,000 and a bronze RM20,000. As for a team of no more than 5 people, the prize money will be split between the members.
If you don't call a RM130K cash incentive serious, I don't know what is.
Durratun Nashihin Rosli, I salute thee. Thank you for highlighting Malaysia on the world map of rhythmic gymnastics.
How could I not, since I myself meddled in the sport for three years of my life. Unfortunately, due to the "sexy" nature of it all, I made the painful choice to quit when I was 12.
Let me tell you that not a day goes by that I don't wonder how different my life would be should I have chosen to fight on. Don't get me wrong, I do not regret my decision. I mean, some of the fondest memories I have are ones from when I was in secondary school, ones that would not have been created should I have kept the tight training schedule I had in my upper-primary years.
It's just that, how can I not stop to ponder over this ever so often when most of my friends whom I used to train with under the guidance of Ms Petrina Low went on to become this country's top gymnasts!
You've got that right. My alma mater, Convent Bukit Nanas (CBN for short), produced quite a number of legendary talents. Farrah Hani Imran. Farah Zelinah Kemal. And even Durratun Nashihin Rosli.
Yes, the same Durratun who dazzled her way on the dancefloor to become the darling of our Commonwealth Games 2006 contingent. The same Durratun who amassed a whopping four silvers, making herself the Malaysian athlete bringing back the most number of medals for our country.Watching her strut her stuff on the idiot box, I must say how amazed I am at how far the sport has gone in this country. Full of pride and amazement, I am.
And for you people who reckon "playing around with a hoola-hoop, bouncing a ball, and twirling a ribbon is hardly a serious sport," well, reckon again. Consider the countless hours of training per week (try juggling a six-hour daily sweating session with studies), the endless injuries, the lack of life outside the gym...Oh, not to mention, the truly unforgiving diet to stay as stick-thin as possible but still have the energy and stamina to do all of the above!
Also, here's something for you to ponder over: for the four silvers that she's brought
back from OZ, Durratun has pocketed over RM130,000! You see, under the National Sports Council (NSC) incentive programme, an individual gold is worth RM80,000, a silver RM40,000 and a bronze RM20,000. As for a team of no more than 5 people, the prize money will be split between the members.If you don't call a RM130K cash incentive serious, I don't know what is.
Durratun Nashihin Rosli, I salute thee. Thank you for highlighting Malaysia on the world map of rhythmic gymnastics.
Thursday, March 23, 2006
hooligans of the western world unite?
Hmm, perhaps the 150-person-capacity temp prison (more info in my previous post) might not create too big a dent after all.
How can it, when you've got idiots in the thousands with the kind of stone-age mindset as exhibited below?
How can it, when you've got idiots in the thousands with the kind of stone-age mindset as exhibited below?
Sigh. It's depressing what the world has come to, innit.A chilling warning from fascists
ROME: The World Cup in Germany is set to become a battleground between fascists and Muslims, an Italian member of a new European neo-Nazi movement warned on Tuesday.
In a statement published by Italian daily Repubblica, the member of AS Roma's notorious ultras hooligan group claims neo-Nazis across Europe met in Braunau in Austria to plan attacks against supporters from Islamic countries during the World Cup in Germany from June 9 to July 9.
“We are united. For the first time we are talking and planning together, with the English, the Germans, the Dutch, the Spanish, everyone with the same objective. At the World Cup there will be a massacre,” said the Italian ultra.
“We will all be in Germany and there will be Turks, Algerians and Tunisians. The Turks, we can't stand them. In our country (Italy) there are not many, but in Germany, there are many of those guys there. They are Islamic terrorists.
“We will attack them. They are all enemies that need to be eliminated, just like the police." -- AFP
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