breakfast of champions

Once in a while, you have to reward yourself. So Ralph, Jayce, Nikki and I got up extremely early on a pleasantly cool Saturday morning, and had breakfast at the Shangri-la Hotel, perusing the papers while we ravaged the elegant food presentations.

Over eggs and sausages and salmon and all sorts of things, we talked about politics (will Raul Roco join the Administration ticket anyway?), Ragnarok (you can sell fiorionies offline for P100k), The Life of Pi (how would you like to be stuck on a raft in the middle of the ocean with a tiger?), glorious buffets in other countries, the wonders and hubris of blah blah, and our theories on what this headline meant: AYAW TUMABI, ASAWA BINUGBOG.

Sometimes it's necessary just to kick back, relax and zone out without making plans of world domination. There's always dinnertime for that.


jiggle it, just a little bit

I need to mention that only my wife can manage to look devastating so early in the morning. Yowza!

And she's not even a morning person.


uruk-hai hordes

We then serenely hied off to the Podium to purchase tickets for the last evening showing of The Return of the King, only to find hordes of foul creatures lining up the escalators.

Good thing Jason thought of the elevators. So we got in, painfully "zoomed" up, and I engaged some girl in a footrace to acquire my precioussss tickets. Part of me wanted to trip her. And in an alternate universe, I did, causing her to fall flat on her flat chest on the flat featureless floor, forlorn and void of hope.

Having acquired the seats our group wanted, I turned and raised the tickets victoriously, earning the envious looks of the dirty masses still in line.

I've waited forever, skipping the premieres, and nothing, nothing will stand in my way.