Carpe diem!

Mayweather and Pacquiao fight at last!

You know how exactly a chicken talks? Yes, they do! Peksman! Read along...

Mayweather hits out at Pacquiao
18 September 2011, 19:37

The prospect of a mega-fight between Floyd Mayweather Jr and Manny Pacquiao seems as distant as ever after the flamboyant American's fourth-round knockout of Victor Ortiz.

Mayweather improved his record to 42-0 by taking the WBC welterweight title from Ortiz, but he was reluctant to commit to the showdown most fans want to see.

"I don't need Pacquiao," Mayweather, 34, told reporters after beating Ortiz in Las Vegas. "With or without Pacquiao, every time Floyd Mayweather goes out there, he's going to make over $70 million.

"I don't need him. Where was Pacquiao in 1996, 1997, 1998, 1999, 2000, 2001 when I was dominating the game? He never asked me for a fight when I was in my twenties or when I was in my teens."

A duel between the defence-minded Mayweather and the aggressive Pacquiao, the two biggest drawcards of their generation, would decide the mythical title of the world's best fighter, pound for pound.

Five-division champion Mayweather had been expected to meet Pacquiao last year until negotiations collapsed over the American's demand for random drug testing.

Shane Mosley then stepped in to take the Filipino's place but was outclassed by Mayweather in a non-title welterweight bout in May.

Pacquiao is scheduled to fight Mexican Juan Manuel Marquez in November and, should he win that bout, there is speculation the Filipino southpaw could finally meet Mayweather next May.

However the American, who made a minimum of $25 million from his victory over Ortiz, repeatedly questions how Pacquaio could have won world titles in an unprecedented eight weight classes.

"Sugar Ray Leonard, we knew he was going to be great from his Olympic days," Mayweather said. "Michael Jordan, we knew from college he was going to be a great professional.

"Floyd Mayweather, from the beginning of his career in the '90s, we knew he was going to be a great professional. Now ask yourself, a fighter just don't get to 25 years old and all of a sudden he becomes great," he added, referring to Pacquaio.

Mayweather also criticised Pacquiao for riding on his coat tails financially and also with the selection of his opponents.

"Pacquiao is famous because he is attached to my name," the American said. "When they say Pacquiao, they say that's the guy they are trying to get to fight Floyd Mayweather.

"When they say Floyd Mayweather, they say the greatest ever. All Pacquiao is doing is fighting my leftovers.

"Before he goes about fighting Floyd Mayweather, he has to get his business in order. We're talking about a guy that gives up, when he fights, 30 per cent of his check to two different companies. I keep 100 per cent of the revenue."

For his part, Pacquiao continually defers any talk of a Mayweather mega-bout to his promoter.

"I'm not going to fight anybody as long as there is a problem with the decision of the promoter," the Filipino said earlier this year. "That's my promoter's job. I'm just a fighter to do my job and train hard for the fight."

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I say, Mayweather should probably just get some orlando fishing guides and stop those nonesense trash talks. I guess the most realistic fight we could expect from Mayweather is his trash talks.

Miss Universe and "saluyot"

In case you haven't watched it yet, we were not able to bag the crown, but I think our candidate, Shamcey Supsup, did well. I wasn't able to watch the pageant but with Facebook and Twitter, it's almost I got a front row seat -- and also because of my officemates who, as I write this post, are discussing blow-by-blow the just-concluded Miss Universe Beauty Pageant.

Some, however, are saying there's something wrong with how the Q and A was conducted and graded. I wouldn't dwell into that, though, because I am not a Miss Universe expert. :-D Instead, I'll just share with you what my officemates think should be tried in the next round of Q and As in the pageant.

Some of the examples they mentioned:

1. If you were a cactus, why?
2. If you're going to die tomorrow, why not now?
3. Aside from your face, what's your problem?
4. If you were an animal, I pity you.
5. Differentiate auto rubber floor mat. Explain why. (Hahaha . Huwat?!)

Hehehe. Next time, they should get the likes of Conan, NPH, Jim Carey, and maybe Cee Lo as judges.

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Oh, and the saluyot? Today is my Day 1. :-)

Of healthy diet and coincidences

So, this morning, I was bloghopping and saw this post (Thirty Days of Saluyot and Camote Tops) by Angeli. After reading it, I was so convinced I would try it. But then I thought, were will I get saluyot? Finding free camote tops is a walk in the park. Then, as if the universe conspired to make this thing happen, my mom (after talking to her friend on the phone) told me her friend will be giving us saluyot this Saturday. She said her friend has a lot of saluyot in her backyard. Wow!

Additional reading from Inquirer, click here.

Here's from Angeli's post:

I started the saluyot and camote diet on a whim, unaware of the plethora of nutritional benefits such greens can provide. A few days ago I learned that saluyot and camote tops contain antioxidants and are rich sources of dietary fiber as well as vitamins A and E, calcium, folate, iron, niacin, phosphorous, protein and riboflavin.

Saturday will be my Day 1. :-)

For all of you who might be looking for appetite suppressants that work, well, look no more. Have a great week!

Preventive maintenance

All of us need to rest from time to time. Else, we'll just break down from stress and fatigue without any warning. So, last Friday, I took the day off (good thing my boss is really kind. And very awesome, too!) so my keyboard can take that rest. :-D

Oh, you thought I was the one who needed to rest? Hehehe. I brought my keyboard home with me so I can clean in up. And I really, really enjoyed doing it. Here's a set of pics I took when I dismantled (?) all the keys from board.

 

Pictures from my busy, hectic schedule today. :-)

It's really fun! It keeps your mind away from major stresses in your life. Would you believe that I even played a game while cleaning? After I dismantled all the keys, I jumbled them up and tried to put them correctly back on the board.* I didn't miss a key. ;-)

*My friend said I am sick or something. I think she said I have demodectic mange symptoms, BUT after checking the net, I know that's not what she said. Hahaha! The sick part is the only one I think I remember correctly.

Noynoy and Coca-Cola

Always Coca-Cola!

I really never liked Noynoy... but just for today, I can say I like his sense of humor. I heard in the news that he tried to make a joke while talking to the Filipino community in China. He compared his love life to a popular soda brand:

"My lovelife is like this famous softdrink: before, it was regular. Then, it became light. And now, it's zero."




Hehehe. Because of that joke, I actually wished him well. Hahaha. Happy  September everyone!

UPDATE: Have you heard this rumor that the president is dating Izza Calzado? Wow! From Zero to Jackpot! I mean, Izza is... well, a jackpot, right?

Update to my UPDATE: Izza denied the rumors. Hehehe. Ok. So much for the jackpot. Sayang! Maybe the president should give up his smoking habit (e cigarette would do the trick, I guess?). Maybe it's a no-no to these ladies being linked to him. Just thinking out loud.

You Should Date An Illiterate Girl

By CHARLES WARNKE
JAN. 19, 2011

Date a girl who doesn't read. Find her in the weary squalor of a Midwestern bar. Find her in the smoke, drunken sweat, and varicolored light of an upscale nightclub. Wherever you find her, find her smiling. Make sure that it lingers when the people that are talking to her look away. Engage her with unsentimental trivialities. Use pick-up lines and laugh inwardly. Take her outside when the night overstays its welcome. Ignore the palpable weight of fatigue. Kiss her in the rain under the weak glow of a streetlamp because you've seen it in film. Remark at its lack of significance. Take her to your apartment. Dispatch with making love. Fuck her.

Let the anxious contract you've unwittingly written evolve slowly and uncomfortably into a relationship. Find shared interests and common ground like sushi, and folk music. Build an impenetrable bastion upon that ground. Make it sacred. Retreat into it every time the air gets stale, or the evenings get long. Talk about nothing of significance. [Perhaps about a sexy wedding lingerie or something?] Do little thinking. Let the months pass unnoticed. Ask her to move in. Let her decorate. Get into fights about inconsequential things like how the fucking shower curtain needs to be closed so that it doesn't fucking collect mold. Let a year pass unnoticed. Begin to notice.

Figure that you should probably get married because you will have wasted a lot of time otherwise. Take her to dinner on the forty-fifth floor at a restaurant far beyond your means. Make sure there is a beautiful view of the city. Sheepishly ask a waiter to bring her a glass of champagne with a modest ring in it. When she notices, propose to her with all of the enthusiasm and sincerity you can muster. Do not be overly concerned if you feel your heart leap through a pane of sheet glass. For that matter, do not be overly concerned if you cannot feel it at all. If there is applause, let it stagnate. If she cries, smile as if you've never been happier. If she doesn't, smile all the same.

Let the years pass unnoticed. Get a career, not a job. Buy a house. Have two striking children. Try to raise them well. Fail, frequently. Lapse into a bored indifference. Lapse into an indifferent sadness. Have a mid-life crisis. Grow old. Wonder at your lack of achievement. Feel sometimes contented, but mostly vacant and ethereal. Feel, during walks, as if you might never return, or as if you might blow away on the wind. Contract a terminal illness. Die, but only after you observe that the girl who didn't read never made your heart oscillate with any significant passion, that no one will write the story of your lives, and that she will die, too, with only a mild and tempered regret that nothing ever came of her capacity to love.

Do those things, god damnit, because nothing sucks worse than a girl who reads. Do it, I say, because a life in purgatory is better than a life in hell. Do it, because a girl who reads possesses a vocabulary that can describe that amorphous discontent as a life unfulfilled—a vocabulary that parses the innate beauty of the world and makes it an accessible necessity instead of an alien wonder. A girl who reads lays claim to a vocabulary that distinguishes between the specious and soulless rhetoric of someone who cannot love her, and the inarticulate desperation of someone who loves her too much. A vocabulary, god damnit, that makes my vacuous sophistry a cheap trick.

Do it, because a girl who reads understands syntax. Literature has taught her that moments of tenderness come in sporadic but knowable intervals. A girl who reads knows that life is not planar; she knows, and rightly demands, that the ebb comes along with the flow of disappointment. A girl who has read up on her syntax senses the irregular pauses—the hesitation of breath—endemic to a lie. A girl who reads perceives the difference between a parenthetical moment of anger and the entrenched habits of someone whose bitter cynicism will run on, run on well past any point of reason, or purpose, run on far after she has packed a suitcase and said a reluctant goodbye and she has decided that I am an ellipsis and not a period and run on and run on. Syntax that knows the rhythm and cadence of a life well lived.

Date a girl who doesn't read because the girl who reads knows the importance of plot. She can trace out the demarcations of a prologue and the sharp ridges of a climax. She feels them in her skin. The girl who reads will be patient with an intermission and expedite a denouement. But of all things, the girl who reads knows most the ineluctable significance of an end. She is comfortable with them. She has bid farewell to a thousand heroes with only a twinge of sadness.

Don't date a girl who reads because girls who read are the storytellers. You with the Joyce, you with the Nabokov, you with the Woolf. You there in the library, on the platform of the metro, you in the corner of the café, you in the window of your room. You, who make my life so god damned difficult. The girl who reads has spun out the account of her life and it is bursting with meaning. She insists that her narratives are rich, her supporting cast colorful, and her typeface bold. You, the girl who reads, make me want to be everything that I am not. But I am weak and I will fail you, because you have dreamed, properly, of someone who is better than I am. You will not accept the life that I told of at the beginning of this piece. You will accept nothing less than passion, and perfection, and a life worthy of being storied. So out with you, girl who reads. Take the next southbound train and take your Hemingway with you. I hate you. I really, really, really hate you.