Shots Fired

Everybody's talking about it. I wasn't even sure it happened when I saw it during the live broadcast for I thought my pre-caffeinated brain was just playing tricks on me even though they replayed it a couple of times and I had to rewatch the late-night replay of the game--the closing minutes, at least-- just to make sure it did happen. And yeah, it did.

From Adrian Wojnarowski's column:

“Whatever happens,” James yelled to Williams in the huddle, “I’m going to come get the ball.” Whatever options fall apart, James insisted to his point guard that he would find a way to get open and promised him, “I’m going to knock down the shot.”

Turkoglu had made an immense shot over Pavlovic to take a 95-93 lead, but he made one grave mistake:

He left a second on the clock.

He left LeBron life.

Great article and all and I liked his storytelling about that final second (I felt compelled to watch it again, dammit!) but there's just this eerie feeling I get when he gets to the part where he paints LeBron James in a messianic way. Don't get me wrong, I am a fan (until he heads to New York, which I hope never, ever happens) but there's just something eerie about it that I can't explain.

And of course, comparisons to His Airness' The Shot is inevitable (it celebrated its 20th anniversary a couple of weeks ago, I think) but I'll leave it to more knowledgeable basketball pundits to debate on which one is better or whatever. All I know is that they're both incredible, unbelievable, awesome shots that one can't help but watch over and over and over...

So, Cavs in 6.

Cabin Fever

I have the entire house for myself the entire weekend. The rest of the family--well, minus Nald and me, but Nald's at the condo in Cubao--went to Baguio and Sagada. I wanted to go with them for the last time I was in Baguio was Christmas of 2005 and I've never been to Sagada and was looking forward to snapping byteloads of pictures using Nel's digital SLR.

But, there are the dogs. No one's going to feed them. It's okay if it'll be an overnight trip. We can feed them early today and hopefully they can bear their hunger until we return the following day. But three days is too much for them and we can't find anyone who'll come in and feed six dogs, one of them a noisy, barky, fierce-looking-but-really-she's-sweet German shepherd. And just imagine, six hungry dogs who've not been fed for three days, barking and yapping when we arrive and they snap at the first sight of fresh meat they come across come Sunday evening: namely, us. They attack and eat us and go on a feeding frenzy across the neighborhood and beyond.

Really, I stayed behind to save us all.

So, three days with no company aside from the dogs. Let's see who succumbs to madness first and who eats whom or who sics whom to eat what or who sics what to eat whom or...

Boom

Godaaaaammmiitttttt!!!

That was pretty much my reaction after seeing Lost's season-ender. Mind-blowing as usual. Still reeling from it, trying to process what I just saw: Jacob and his counterpart (Anti-Jacob?), the full statue, the contents of the box, "They're coming," some deaths and one heartbreaking fall into a hole and then the fade to white (but still can't beat season three's "We have to go back, Kate") and then the realization that it'll be almost a year's wait before some of the mysteries presented this episode will be answered.

Hence: Godaaaammmiitttttt!!!!

Drinking Song

Sunday was not-so-little-sister Cha's birthday so the weekend involved consuming (un)healthy amounts of beer and vodka. If it were up to me, the drink-up's soundtrack would consist of nothing but Tom Waits for his songs seem tailor made for drinking sessions but I doubt the people I was drinking with (cousins from San Juan and some friends) even know who Tom Waits is.

I Hope I Don't Fall In Love With You was the very first Tom Waits song I ever listened to, though the version I first heard was a live version by the 10,000 Maniacs. Looked up the maniacs' version but couldn't find it. Maybe I just imagined it for that was a long time ago.

And anticipating what some you could be thinking right about now: is this indicative of something?

...

Could be the hangover typing.

Now it's closing time, the music's fading out.
Last call for drinks, I'll have another stout.
Well I turn around to look at you,
you're nowhere to be found,
I search the place for your lost face,
guess I'll have another round
And I think that I just fell in love with you.

But yeah, I guess I'll have another round.

Tunay na Lalake

From Hay!Men! ang blog ng mga tunay na lalake:

Manifesto ng Tunay na Lalake

1. Ang tunay na lalake ay di natutulog.

2. Ang tunay na lalake ay di nagte-text-back, maliban na lang kung papasahan ng load. Gayunpaman, laging malabo ang kanyang mga sagot.

3. Ang tunay na lalake ay laging may extra rice.

4. Ang tunay na lalake ay hindi vegetarian.

5. Ang tunay na lalake ay walang abs.

6. Ang tunay na lalake ay hindi sumasayaw.

7. Ang tunay na lalake ay umaamin ng pagkakamali sa kapwa tunay na lalake.

8. Ang tunay na lalake ay laging may tae sa brief.

9. Ang tunay na lalake ay di naghuhugas ng pinagkainan o nagliligpit ng kanyang mga gamit dahil may babaeng gagawa noon para sa kanya. Mas lalong nagiging tunay ang pagkalalake kung di niya kilala o di niya maalala ang pangalan ng babae.

10. Ang tunay na lalake ay di nagsisimba.

Robochompocalypse

'I plan to invest in anti-carnivorous robot security' by Warren Ellis:

"The future is a moving target. It’s not predictable like the weather – and even weather forecasting misses the odd devastating hurricane. Science fiction’s never going to tell you what you’ll be doing next year. What it really does is use speculation to examine the present-day condition – but it can, however, warn you about possible futures."

And earlier in the column is a funny bit about the Wachowskis and their failure in warning people of the coming Robochompocalypse.