I Heart Tennis

Lurve, lurve, lurve.

In the middle of an increasingly washed out Roland Garros 2010, and tennis gladiators trying to kill each other with furry yellow balls, my good friend and colleague Abby Z. alerted me to the existence of this insanity:

Apparently there's one of Nadal hopping around to La Bamba like a crazed Majorcan bunny, but the video quality blows. So, Robin Soderling in drag will have to do. God, I love this game.

Punch Out

I'd totally forgotten Manny Pacquiao was running for a seat in the House of Representatives. Much to my shock, he's won this time. And thanked his "fans." Yes, it's now down to how many fans you actually have. He's also promised not to let this get in the way of his fight with the Mayweather guy. Are we supposed to be happy he's treated the elections the way he treats a boxing match?

I will say he's been savvy with his career so far. The same cannot be said about the choices of the Philippine people.

Tie a Yellow Ribbon

I've been watching the news (on mute) just to see who gets a crack at leading our nation for the next couple years. Much to my disgust, the orphan in yellow is winning. Now we'll never be rid of his sister.

Trust No One

Another long weekend to enjoy. It's supposed to be a weekend with a purpose - the working class have all been (very kindly) given one day off to decide who will lead our country and occupy upper echelons of the republic for the next few years.

And, I'm not voting.

Upon hearing this, my good friend and colleague Charity B. summarily stripped me of every right to complain. "You're not voting? Then don't complain about anything in the government." She's from Manila. Everyone in that city complains.

I'm not voting because I'm not registered in La Sugbu. I'll have to go back home to Dumaguete, which I am doing this weekend anyway. I am also out of cashola. Also - I trust no one.

Voting represents hope, and suspension of disbelief. Since I have no faith in the integrity of anyone who is shameless enough to pay for airtime, dance around with random strangers, plug his face all over the city, radio and cyberspace, all for a spot as the top official, then I don't believe in suspending my disbelief.

I feel used. My taxes go into their pockets. My money fuels their lavish lifestyle. We listen to a litany of promises, platforms, rip-offs from the Obama campaign of change. Nothing is original. Everyone gladhands, smiles, makes promises that won't be kept. We are a nation that is never satisfied. Something is always going to go wrong, and we wait to pounce on weakness. I'm tired of the merry go round. We were happy with the dame in yellow who passed away (and effectively elevated her ugly son to savior status since he can "carry on") but really, she didn't do jack. Couldn't even control her famewhoring youngest daughter. Whatever happens, I hope these people never win. I'd rather see the smart pilot be president.

Not voting is the one day I can actually say I'm not being used.

14 Days Left

Roland Garros 2010. Not my favoritest Slam, but worth watching and waiting for. Well-known as the grittiest, toughest, dirtiest Slam out there, it fits its most popular competitor - Rafael Nadal.

I'll be putting on my insanity cap again in two weeks because I love watching tennis. To clarify, Grand Slams only. There's something about a stage that massive, an audience that great, and the pressure it places on the gladiators of the tennis world.

Nadal is heavily favored to come back and show the world who's boss again, and I'm backing him. That blasted Roger Federer is weeks away from beating Pete Sampras' record number of weeks on top. Does that man have to have everything? Ugh. I don't want him to win anymore (haven't wanted him to win in years). Someone who does not visibly sweat on TV is cheating.

Yes, yes. I am unreasonable.

Yay, Roland Garros 2010 is around the block! Cannot. Wait.