Diary of A Mad US Grand Prix

What ever happen this morning (or last afternoon in America)? I woke up this morning remembering some glimpse of a six-cars race. At first, I thought it was a dream. Or I was to occuppied playing some grand prix game, that I still remembering the scenes from the game. But no, it was real. It was real, I tell ya. And it was one bizzare grand prix. For as long as I've became an F1 fans, I don't, I NEVER recall that this had happen before.

It all started at the Friday free practice session. The tyres of Ralf Schumacher's Toyota gave away because of the speed at turn 13. This accident caused the Michelin people to doubt wheter their product is safe and good to go for the grand prix. One thing led to another, and they demanded that a chicane is build at the turn 13, to slow down the cars, so the risk of another tyre failure is minimized. The FIA (and Bernie Ecks too, mind you, that money grabbing dictactor) did not give in to the demand. The start was delayed, but all cars were on the grid. The fans was cheering (I was too). The warm-up lap goes underway. But alas, to no avail, the Michelin runners (cars that used Michelin tyres) turn into the pit lane entry at the end of it. And there they were six cars on the grid, the two Ferraris, the two Jordans, and the two Minardis. All were Bridgestone runners. The crowd was startled. I was startled. Could this be true? A six-cars race? But then, as soon the six of them lined up on the grid, the five red are lighted and the race begun.

I was shocked, so does the crowd. I was appalled, so does the crowd (a water bottle thrown into the track prooved that point). The crowd chanting, wanting their money back. I was laughing hysterically, wanting my sleeping time back. This is what I wake up for? A six-cars race? A race so predictable, that you didn't need to watch the struggle, instead just the front and the back. A race so pathetic that I do not have the desire to watch, even as a self-proclaimed hard-core Ferrari fans (and Ruben Barichello too). A race so bemusing, it still feels like I was dreaming of a nightmare last night.

Alas, it was not a dream. It was real. It was real, I tell ya. As real as the pain in my forehead, from repeated slaps from my hand, it was not a nightmare. It was real, REAL, I tell ya. The most bizzare, pathetic, confusing, and oh-so-not-cool race ever. Was it the FIA mistake (for not giving in)? Bernie Ecks (that money grabbing dictactor, for being money grabbing dictactor)? Michelin (for a lack of quality)? Bridgestone (for whatever they do)? Michelin teams (for deciding not to race and forfeit points)? Bridgestone teams (for staying put on the track even thou' it was spelled disaster)? Well, one thing for sure, it was so bizzare that it would rather be forgotten. And another thing for sure, the fans, the crowd, and the drivers of Michelin teams was the victim of this schmagance (chaos, disaster, freak - red).

I WAS THE VICTIM, DAMN IT.

So does Jarno Trulli and his pole position. I'm sorry Jarno, best of luck next time. Peace and god bless.

Damn!

I finaly realized what my dad is trying to do!

He was so bitchy about my cousin who is staying with us for a few days. And he was soooo annoying about him being the oldest, he didn't stay at home (he has a few days off), he's running away from his responsibility, bla bla bla. I was just soooooo furious about it. I thought he's just trying to make someone misreable just because he feel misreable, he's soooo mean, etc.

Then it hit me. He was dumping his frustation on him. His youngest sister and her son are in town, because her son has a uni entrance test. And he wants them to stay here at our house. But because my cousin is here, he couldn't invite them. So he dump all his anger on him. He's always like that. Building up anger then try to justified his anger toward people, even when they are innocence, not guilty. Gosh! I can't believe it! Can you believe it?

I'm sooooo not liking him right now. I just want to shout "shut the f*** up!". But of course I can't do that. Cause that would cause a bigger problem. Then he would make sure that I would suffer. Then he would recite all my past mistakes. Then he would make me feel guilty about it. And if I don't appologize, then he would degrade me.

Believe me...I live with this man for more than 20 years. What do you think makes me goes downhill on depression lane? Him!!! And he won't believe that it's his fault! Feels like living with Hitler.

Because I'm a queen

VIDEO
by India.Arie

Sometimes I shave my legs and sometimes I don’t
Sometimes I comb my hair and sometimes I won’t
Depend on how the wind blows I might even paint my toes
It really just depends on whatever feels good in my soul

I’m not the average girl from your video
And I ain’t built like a supermodel
But, I learned to love myself unconditionally
Because I am a queen
I’m not the average girl from your video
My worth is not determined by the price of my clothes
No matter what I’m wearing I will always be india arie

When I look in the mirror the only one there is me
Every freckle on my face is where it’s supposed to be
And I know our creator didn’t make no mistakes on me
My feet, my thighs, my lips, my eyes; I’m lovin’ what I see

I’m not the average girl from your video
And I ain’t built like a supermodel
But, I learned to love myself unconditionally
Because I am a queen
I’m not the average girl from your video
My worth is not determined by the price of my clothes
No matter what I’m wearing I will always be india arie

Am I less of a lady if I don’t wear pantyhose?
My mama said a lady ain’t what she wears but, what she knows
But, I’ve drawn a conclusion, it’s all an illusion, confusion’s the name of the game
A misconception, a vast deception
Something’s gotta change
Don’t be offended this is all my opinion
Ain’t nothing that I’m sayin law
This is a true confession of a life learned lesson I was sent here to share wit y’all
So get in where you fit in go on and shine
Free your mind, now’s the time
Put your salt on the shelf
Go on and love yourself’cuz everything’s gonna be all right

I’m not the average girl from your video
And I ain’t built like a supermodel
But, I learned to love myself unconditionally
Because I am a queen
I’m not the average girl from your video
My worth is not determined by the price of my clothes
No matter what I’m wearing I will always be india arie

Keep your fancy drinks and your expensive minks
I don’t need that to have a good time
Keep your expensive car and your caviar
All I need is my guitar
Keep your crisp style and your pistol
I’d rather have a pretty piece of crystal
Don’t need your silicon I prefer my own
What God gave me is just fine

I’m not the average girl from your video
And I ain’t built like a supermodel
But, I learned to love myself unconditionally
Because I am a queen
I’m not the average girl from your video
My worth is not determined by the price of my clothes
No matter what I’m wearing I will always be india arie

Disclaimer
The lyric are copyrighted by its' righteous owner
Courtesy of LyricsFreak.com

I Will Be Me (Greater Reason)

I believe I'm here for a greater reason
To be able to give to others
It may not be in a form of a nobel prize for peace
Or a cure for AIDS
I do believe I am able to do it
Serving food that give others joy
Seeing the happy faces when tasting the food
It is not about the revelation of the deed
But to do the deed with passion and determination
I may not be a PHd
With stars and honors
I may just be a chef or a decorator
But at least I'm happy and satisfied
That way I can give myself 100%
Because I have a self to give
I'm not a empty case anymore
But a person with soul and will
Also passion and dreams
I'm not just a reflection of others
But a true spirit of myself
Years ahead may not be a comfort journey
But I know I will have my reward
A happy and satisfied person
With dreams and passion
A compassionate and loving person
With all myself to give
At the end of the journey
I will be me
And me only

Weird Dream

How weird is it if you dreamt having an elephant as your pet? Not those jumbo-mega-gray creatures ... the tiny version of it. And it bites. Literally ... it bites my index finger. It's good thing it's the mini version. Imagine if it's the real size elephant ... next thing I know I only have four fingers. Anyhoo ... in my dream, the tiny elephant grew so fast just by feeding it with lettuce. Weird huh? I remember the dream vividly because it seems so real ... the house and everything.

...

Weird.

...

Totally.

...

PS. Congrates to Jarno Trulli for securing the driver seat at Toyota F1 Racing Team. May all the best with you and may the words of the tech director are truthfully true (regarding equal partner and all). And may BAR Honda will grab the no. 2 Constructor (sp?) title. Hurrah.

Bad Anatomy Jokes

Do you know that some researcher says that those 'dumb blonde' jokes could really reduce blonde person intellegentia level. I reckon this is true. No...wait, I know it's true. Somehow labeled dumb and being joked about it doesn't help you to be smarter. This works the same way with the 'fat' jokes. It doesn't help any overweight-plus-sized people to loose weight. It is...demeaning. Trust me, I know how it feels. It doesn't help me at all.My father's side of the big family would call the 'fat' jokes ... encouragements. I call it ... insults. I know I'm overweight aka plus size. But I don't need some people joke about it. It's bad enough that I'm so self-conscious about my figure. I don't need some people to bring the topic up. Maybe they would somehow reason that I should just laugh about it.

That one who laugh at one self is at peace with one self. True. But laughing at someone else is bad. It's demeaning. It's discouraging. It's cruel and unhuman.I've endured the fat jokes as long as I can remember being overweight. But sadly enough, the people I remembered making these jokes are my own family. How sad is that. Sure, some of my junior high classmate did some fat jokes on me. But they never really ... over-joke it. I remember one classmate calls me 'Molen' which is a sort of pastry that is puffy. Well, I don't mind being puffy or chubby. As long as I'm not the one who sink ship. Yep, that's one of the fat jokes my family did. 'She's so heavy that the ship would sink' they said on one family gathering. 'Her groom would be able to lift her up on their wedding day' they said one night. Who said anything about lifting me up on my wedding day. This is another reason why I should just elope when I get married. It'd save me the fuss and muss dealing with my father's side of the family. Blah.

Sadly, I couldn't do a damn thing about except writing it down on my blog. Even this is bordering on danger on being caught. If one of them read this and it goes through to dad ... well, let's just say it ain't gonna be pretty ya know. But I do have the right to shout out my thoughts and feeling. And to hell with bad jokes. Any jokes that involve parts of somebody's body aka the bad anatomy jokes are to be condemned. They are cruel and inhuman. Down with bad anatomy jokes

...

The down side on being caught is they probably gonna try to blame it ...wait, they're gonna blame it on my mom. Some stuffs about not raising me properly. Yeah right. Not raising me properly my ass! She raise me proper enough, thank you. *censored*

...

Damn!

The Urban Supremacy

Ooooh, I am soooo sleeply right now. Turn out that one solo Coffee Frappuccino and a small sip of Caffe Verona do not have an affect on my 'sleep' nerves. If it weren't for the tea, I would be curling up on the bed right now. Need sleep. Badly.

[Warning: The next review is written by a woman whose energy has depleted until the lowest number of 25% - Damn, I need sleep]

I went to see The Bourne Supremacy today. It was great. I've seen the preview on HBO Advance Screening about a couple week ago. Instead feeling bored, I actually enjoyed the high speed chase which was the preview (Does Russian police really uses Mercedes Benz for high speed chase?). It was great...very dramatic. I even like what Matt Damon did with the character. And I'm not even his fans. But he play Jason Bourne nicely (although reminds a
bit about his role in The Talented Mr. Ripley). The plot also good (I just rated it B+ on Yahoo! Movies). I came to see the movie with no expectation because I'm not a fans on Matt Damon. In fact, at first, I wanted to go because of Karl Urban (and only Karl Urban). So sitting there in the dark with nothing in my hands, I enjoyed the movie. It was ... memorable. I watched it with caution, sitting on the edge ... hoping that this won't turn out to be a sour one. And it's not! You know how some Hollywood movie maker looooves happy ending. So I was so worried that they ... (spoiler alert) resurect Marie in the end. But never happened, so I'm totally pleased with the ending.

Aaaand now ... to the first reason why I watch the movie. Tadaaaaa! Karl Urban. He is ... so ...
H-O-T!!! Make that triple! Totally gorgeous. I know that he's the bad guy. But I can't help it. He's the most gorgeous bad guy I've ever seen! When I was watching him, the one thing that kept popping is that he's HOT! Yes, I know I've repeated that twice. But I can't help it. I'm totally smitten. Wow! I mean WOW! I know he's amazing as Eomer. And I know that he's deadly as Lord Vaako. But this role ... is something else. So glad he took it. At first, I was affraid that he would be just some enemy Bourne had to killed. But he stole the scene (at least for me). Wow! And wow!

Wait, the old agent from the Treadstone. The only one who survived beside Bourne ... isn't he the Count Dracula on Van Helsing? Wait, gotta check.

[checking IMDb]

Oooops, nope. My bad. I think I'm mistaken him with Marton Csokas aka Celeborn in Lord of the Rings trilogy. I knew he looks familiar.

Dear Sister

It's officially 24 hours (or so) since you left. I'm watching Channel's V Double Shot Rock, which I know you really love. Too bad you're not here to shout the name of the bands (Incubus is on the screen now, before that was Train's 'Drop of Jupiter'). Then you would wish and hope so hard that Channel V would play Lostprophets (spelling?), so you could gaze at Lee Gaze aka The Blond Guitarist (your version) aka Pretty Boy Guitarist (my version).

Home is doing fine, dear sister. It's bland without you around. I spend my day on the internet. Something I haven't done for a while, because I usually drags you around somewhere (dingdong-ing, shopping, etc). But since you're out on the wild (not literally 'wild' but well...you know), I have no one to drag around. Oh btw, our dear nephew stopped by about an hour after you left. He hasn't shower yet (well, I just woke up so we're even) and wearing his red sandals, screaming 'imbang an' as he entered the house. Turned out that he drags Ni Epon to have a walk to our house. I'm so convinced that when he knows to open the gate (and have the strength), he would just take off without even saying a word. And we will find him shouting at our gate, alone! Ahh, it'll take some time but I'll be looking forward for that mischieve to happen.

Anyway, your laptop just arrived with special message not to open it until you are here. Very specific. So I'll let you check it out yourself when you're home.

Since I have nothing to do, I just surf the net. Finally decided that my Yahoo inbox should be released from its' burden carrying over 1000 mails. But before that, the MSN inbox also should be re-activated.
The Yahoo mails was a tough work, especially because I encounter the same topic all over (besides some Oprah's Book Club, some ads, some junks, and some diet tips). But it's nice to catch up about Viggo at the end. There is so much I missed (some great pictures mostly). It also reminds me how Viggo was...is the ideal man. And how uncomplicated it is to admire him (unlike with a man I see wearing helmet and driving fast car most of the time and so undecisive about his future). I remember how 'easy' to like and admire Viggo, because what's not to like about him. He's multi talented man with great personality and views. But...after some time, I got tired and decided to log off.

One good thing that you're not home is I get to explore an old hobby. And mom's WinMX trully helps. Yup, I decided to find old 'memories' that were lost when our computer's hard disc broke. I found some old tracks that we loved (and some new tracks that we love). Although all is not recovered (the live version of NpC's 'Improvvisando'), but I enjoyed the whole searching and downloading. One bad side of it all, it's that I can share the joy with you when I found the english version of Inuyasha's soundtracks. I definetely needs your help to get the lyrics.

Still watching Double Shot Rock. Fortunately, there's no Lostprophets video (yet). Oh yeah...I enjoyed the benefit of having MTV Asia back. MTV Screen showed yesterday at usual time (btw, After Skool Rock move to Tuesday). Guess what, I found another movie-to-watch, The Stepford Wives. Really entertaining. We should put it down on our list (besides The Bourne Supremacy).

Bad news for Button

Whoops...
Jenson might loose his super license - license he needs to drive in F1 - if he continue to pursue the Williams' dream. So did the CRB announce.

So Jenson, why?

Why does appearance always fool me?

Politics on the fast lane

As Jenson Button make...

Wha? Oh...you think I was going to talk about politics? The 'real' politics (how ironic seeing not much is real in politics)? Nah, I was going to talk about the politics on the fast lane...the Formula One lane that is. So as I was saying...

As Jenson Button makes the headlines all this week, thanks to his presumed illegal switch to English based Williams, I stop and wonder 'does F1 has politics too?'. One editorial at Planet F1.com (read Did Jenson remember the Webber factor?) gave me a few hint about the thought. And yes...there is politics. It's been at my face the whole time, only I was to 'fresh' to realize. And yes...there is.

One example, which I have been dreading for long, is the fact that two driver of a team cannot be an equal partner. One must be the #1, while the other must be #2. Although the most debated example of this subject is those of Ferrari, I would not go there. Instead, I would take the example those of Renault. The news of Jarno Trulli leaving Renault was not as publicised as Jenson Button leaving BAR, but the reason is a good example of this subject. Why did Jarno Trulli decide to leave? Despite holding the number 7 and winning the Monaco Grand Prix, he is second to Fernando Alonso. This fact is not loudly acknowledge, but it is silently.

The editorial I mentioned above also has some saying about the subject of "#1 and #2". Before Jenson Button make his switch, Mark Webber already become the proud driver of Williams. Mark Webber, as pointed by the main man of Williams, will be the #1 driver (he has class bla bla bla). If Jenson does move to Williams, he would be #2. I read in one of the article, somebody at Williams said that Mark Webber need a partner to 'beat', someone who 'will not pose a threat' (that somebody also said something like 'someone like Jarno Trulli'...up yours, man!). Like the the editorial's writer, I would ask the same question 'why on earth does Jenson Button want to play second fiddle for Williams?'. Being #2 driver isn't that bad if you have Micheal Schumacher as partner (read How To Love Michael Schumacher). But if somebody important already said those things...why would you be the second driver? And drop all the glory of #1 driver at the other end of the tug o'war (read Jenson - The Tug Of Love Driver). This is complicated.

It is even more complicated than football. *Phew* I only had two paragraph and I'm beat already. So why did I turn on Formula One, you may ask? Well, despite it has an ugly part of political havoc and mayhem, it's still the most exciting one-seated motor racing ever.

(But I'll be back to football as soon as the Italian Serie A starts their first kick-offs. Politics schmolitics.)

Perchè, Edgar Davids?

Why, Edgar Davids?

Will Inter give you what you are looking for?

Like my sister said, two star instead of one. (Inter has one star; one star = 10 scudetto. Juventus is the only team in Serie A that has two star for 26 scudetto.)

So why?

Are you still looking for title? Glory? Champions Cup? The Scudetto? If it is what you are looking for, wouldn't the logical choice be A.C. Milan? Proud wearer of the scudetto.

So why, Edgar Davids?

Chinese Mythical Being

You are Xuan Wu!
Mythological background: Because the turtle has a
thick, solid shell that serves as protection -
this animal is associated with stability. You
enjoy intellectual pursuits. Also, in Feng Shui (the Chinese myths behind
choosing a house), the black turtle's solidity
is used to protect from cold northern winds.

Which Chinese Mythological Being Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla

Fun Day

Hurrah!!!
After holding on for 2 days, I've finally had the chance to play ding dong as much as I want to. Did 6 coins for the Pop'NMusic game. We rules!!! (me and sis) Then tried on something new. Just like the ol' bang-the-moles type of game. Only with several choices of item to bang on. I rules! Got 12 tickets (sis only got 4). Anyway...it's a fun day.

Oh...the Pizza Hut was divine as always.

Oh...and the quiz. I don't understand why I'm Jacques Villenueve. I thought I'm more a Trulli-kind-of-gal. Oh whatever...


Take the F1 drivers quiz on supersonicsquirrel.net

Note: Ding dong is slank for video game. It came from the sound video games used to make...'ding dong'. Get it?

The Second Summer of the Sisterhood

I was just reading this book this morning. It was written by Ann Brashares. I read the Indonesian version of course. They brand it TeenLit, meaning Teen Literature. The four main characters: Lena, Tibby, Carmen, and Bridget; are teens. The book told their second summer after they found the sisterhood pants (read the book for more explaination). Even though they are teens, their stories somehow resonate to most people's stories. Me, a 23 year old woman, even thinks it's a good book.

But I'm not talking about the book here. Well, it started when I was reading it. I was reading the story of Bridget, who visit her mother's hometown to find and get to know her grandmother. And it dawns to me, as I was helping my dad close the gate and the garage door, that I don't really know much about my dad. I was looking at his pair of badminton/tenish shoes, thinking why he bought them. Does he play tennis? If yes, when? And with who? Despite the reason why he bought the shoes are clear (to play tennis), but the latter questions haunted me. When and with who? Then I realize I don't much about him. There's a lot of his history that I don't know. I usually found out about it when it already happened for a while (could be for years). Like when he went to India. I didn't know about it untill he told my sister, then my sister told me. I also didn't know that he had pilgrimage (sp?) until my dad told my mom, then my mom told me. I'm almost totally clueless about him. I also didn't know he actually played football (soccer) and was a star. But an injury forced him to retire. I know bit of pieces of his life...told years after it happen. I understand if they happened before I was born. But the things happened after I was born...it shouldn't take years.

I sort of the made a promise to get to know my dad a little better. Just now...the promise fade away. Just because he told me to change the channel (I was watching Powerpuff Girls), because he thinks that 'it has no benefit'. A sense of rebelness take over. What about happiness? What about joy? What about enjoying myself? I linger a little on the channel (in case you didn't guess, it's Cartoon Network), but a stroke of fear overtake me. And I flip around the remote, changing channel. Then I realize...I still fear my dad's wrath of anger. No, no...he wasn't abusive. But I did have several bad incident involving his anger, which turn out to have more impact that I thought. I'm still affraid to invoke his anger. And I still fear that it would be a heavy one.

My super-quick analytic ability took over. I over-analize everything...it's a habit, a not-so-benefitting one. I analize why I still like cartoons (like any other people), why I still fear my dad, why I couldn't stand up to him, etc. I also quietly say inside my mind that even though he tries to have new visions, thinking outside the box, he still puts me in a box. Since I'm his daughter, I should follow his guidelines. Being 23 years old means I'm an adult. An adult is not suppose to like cartoon. Because it doesn't give you any benefit. Then I see through all his effort all this time...he was trying to make me an adult as early as he can. My mom told me about this several times : 'He was just trying to make u independent, just in case. Because you are the oldest daughter'. Unfortunately...his plan and efforts had backfire. I'm maybe 23 years old...but there's a child screaming inside of me. Knocking my conscious with all her might. The age may be right...but my emotional age is not. I don't feel like an adult...I don't want to be one. I don't want to get older. And by that, all the efforts backfire. Instead making me an independent, responsible adult...I'm almost the opposite.

...It just backfire...

...Am I depressed?...

...Yes, totally...

At the moment...

I'm thinking how one of my unwritten-but-exciting stories ends, I realize that giving up is really hard to do. If I was to surrender to the lost of the fight, start the journey home to the man-who-will-accept-me-as-I-am with my tail between my legs...It would be somehow a very tragic defeat indeed. I am such a fighter inside, but somehow that spirit doesn't translate outside.

...

Or maybe it's just because this anxiety that I have after a very surprising and shocking accident at Silverstone, which unfortunately was involving Trulli. Luckily, he is unhurt and ready for the next race. Damn it...I could've had a heart attack.

The year of the underdogs (Euro 2004 review)

Aaaaaargh!!! I cannot believe it. Czech Rep lost to Greece for a single silver goal. Okay, the tournament has officially became suck. Now what excuse do I need to watch the final? Portugal? Greece? I don't even know them. Oh gosh, this year's tournament been so kind to the underdogs.

The upperdogs mostly been eliminated, except for Portugal (they're the host, so they have the benefit of "host syndrome"). Italy and Germany didn't even make it out of the group phase. Italy was stopped by Duo Nordic, Sweden and Denmark. Italy's performance was...well, a little poor. They didn't live up to their reputation as the 'football nation'...the nation with the best football league. Italy did two in-a-row draw and a win, but to a bitter end. They were...stumped by the Duo Nordic draw performance. Germany also didn't live up to their reputation. But I can't blame them...they were at the hellish group with Czech Rep and Netherlands. The competition were stiff, and one of them got to go home early.

Moving on to the quarter finals, England was beaten by Portugal after a dramatic penalty shootout. England media and fans blamed the loss to the referee, the likely scapegoat, for giving the Portugal a penalty when the Brits are winning. Making the match end in a 2-2 draw, forcing the Brits to go into extra time. I also heard that some sportcaster has became so irritated that he crosses the journalism ethic (source: Forza Juventus mailing list). What a sore loser. Anyway, the next upperdogs that fell down the drain are France, who lost to Greece for a single goal. The coach claimed that exhaustion is the reason. Well, at least they don't point their finger to the referee (like some team). That would be the sooooo cliche.

Overall...it's been disappointing! I have lost interest since the first Italy's match. The poor performance and the spitting incident has left me cold...and yearning for my sleeping time. But since Euro only happens once in 4 years (thank god it's another four years from now), I kept on watching. And like I've predicted, it didn't fail to disappoint me. The upperdogs fell flat on their faces and the underdogs rules. But the salute goes to Greece, who has advance so far without any some sort of tricks (Well done, greeks!). The big award of unsportsmanship goes to the Duo Nordic, Denmark and Sweden. And the sore loser award goes to the Brits (Yes, it sucks to lose doesn't it?).

The final is approaching the end is near. But I already putting my nightcap on and my slippers off. I'm (so) ready to say "farewell Euro 2004, welcome World Cup 2006".

Disclaimer: Offended? Well, bugger off. I don't take nasty harassments. Decent comments are welcome though.

What??

Oalaaaaaaaaaah...bagaimana ini tooooooh? Kok nambah links jadi error gini? Kok nyingsul sih header-nya? Apa emang gak boleh ditaro di bawah profile-ku toh? Yah, kok ndak bilang2 siiiiiiiih? Oladalah, jadoknya (jawa medok) keluar. Ya weis, ntar diganti tempatnya.

*back to normal*

Okay, this day almost down to suck grade. No Oprah magz yet. The Age of Mythology CD didn't work (musti beli baru...wualaaaaaaah). The header for my added link is...crooked.

*relapse*

Wadalaaaah, gak ada yg bener.

*back to normal*

Okay...need sleep. Need sleep. Better go to sleep now. Sleep. Sleep.

Arrivederci Azzurri

This is the end for the azzurri. Just as some of their fans predicted, they didn't make it to the final 8. They gained a victory against Bulgaria for 2-1. But the Swedes and the Danish drew on 2-2, making the victory nothing but a bittersweet taste of the Euro. And their ticket home.

Farewell, Azzurri. Hope this misfortune would be a way to better Azzurri next time. We'll see you in Germany 2006.

*solemnly puts a mourning outfit*

Italy's Misfortune(s)

Fresh from watching the match of Italy vs Sweden which resulted in a (another) draw. Only this time it's 1-1. The italians led first when Cassano headed a pass from Panucci. But came the second half, the italians were tired and under a lot of pressure. Just 5 minutes before the 90 minutes time is up, the swedes even the score. It was 1-1 by Ibrahimovic. The score stayed unchange until the time is up and quoting the commentator 'Italy's hope is hang by a thread'.

Honestly, I do feel disappointed (naturally). After having a glimpse of glory, I was denied by the mishap in front of the net. I'm not blaming anyone. It has been a rough european campaign for Italy. First, their opening match against the Danish resulted in a goalless draw. Then misfortune came with the form of Totti's 3 matches ban (which personally, it's not such a great loss). Now, the whole campaign hangs by a thread after another draw. But also frankly, I don't think that Italy would make it to the finals. They still have a chance by beating Bulgary next week. But only if the swedes also defeat the danish. If the danish wins, the italians have to pack their bags and go home sooner than they expected. The whole thing does remind me of what happen to France at the World Cup 2002. Could it happen again, this time round to Italy? We'll just have to wait and see.

I do feel disappointed more than I wanted to, till the point of accepting the simplest consolation like having Trulli finally finishes (at what cost) at the USA Grand Prix, after having (another) misfortune at the Canada GP last week. Golly, even seeing him is a consolation (naturally).

Well, off to bed now.

What a day!!!

Aaaaaaaaaaarrrrrgggh!!! This has been a helluva day! Don't mind the spelling now, I'm sleepy right now. It's 15 past midnight and I only had 1 hour of napping.

Did some shopping this morning. Got myself a...wait, two new pillows and two new pillowcases. Loves the color. It's baby blue with faded parquet texture. Just my thing. Didn't buy any holster yet. Maybe next mind, oops, next month. But planning the color combination right now. Damn, so sleepy right now.

Let's just get to the highlight of the day shall we? I need my beauty sleep. Anyway, I was rushing over to the cinema to see the new Harry Potter movie. Stood on me line, bothering me own business, when three ungrateful, spoiled, impolite, barbaric people just stand on the wrong side of the line. They were trying to swipe the line! Bloody barbarians they are. Nasty too. Got all steam up and decided to do all or nothing (with my dear cousin encouragement of course. Love you lass). Tap one on her shoulder, let her know there was only one line. Yes, ONE line u eedjit. One minute later, she was gone leaving her somewhat younger companion still on the WRONG side of the lane. Guess what? She came back dragging an awful looking thing I presummed her brother. And he, instead correcting her manner, stood on her previous post. I assumed they are siblings, you can see clearly from their manners and behaviour. Implecably rotten. Nasty rotten. Then my dear cousin (who was standing behind me) said that we should leave it to the boys (there's a man in front of me). She suggested that we should see if he (the man standing in front of me on the RIGHT lane) would up to the challenge. And bloody well, he wasn't! Then it all up to the ladies then. Almost on the edge of the lane, we tap him (the ungrateful lot) on the back and ask him to get in line. Yes, the RIGHT lane you eedjit. And like any other ungrateful lots, he refused and claimed that he got there before we do. How nice...rotten and a lying smug. They are definetely siblings. And apparantly badly need some bottlebottom glasses because he didn't see me there standing on the lane, before he did. Me! Me! The big girl with white shirt. Hello? Oh wait...he didn't have his glasses on. And his manner too. Damn those three ungrateful, rotten lots.

Anyway, there's me story on today's event. I'll be back tomorrow for the review on Harry Potter (who is turning out to be fine young lad. Watch out Orlando). Without the rage of course (thos damn ungrateful, rotten, impolite, barbaric eedjits).

Ps. If anyone feel offended, well...since I'm not in a very good mood...bugger off! Don't mind me post then.