Go Fish!
There's a flowerhorn show over at Glorietta 2 starting October 18 and will run until the 21st. If you're a flowerhorn fish enthusiast or someone who's simply fascinated by all things that swim, better check it out before it's gone. So far, some of the aquariums are still empty and will probably be in place by tomorrow. There's this gigantic, adorable flowerhorn the size of a super-bowl and for a moment I regretted not having a camera at hand. I suppose I'd come back for it. I heard they'll feature goldfishes, arrowanas (spellcheck?), and other fresh-water types as well. Would you believe there's a competition going on for the best flowerhorn and such? How would you judge a contest like that? Would criterias such as best fish-face matter? Or would there be a free-style, or back-stroke category? A best swimwear event, perhaps?
S. N. H. C
Every Sunday night I play pick-up basketball over at the village court with my friends. Well, it's not really pick-up basketball because we pretty much play with the same set of people. It's more like a Sunday Night Hoops Club, and not surprisingly, I'm the only girl out there on the court.
Tonight, a friend invited 5 of his young friends so what used to be a laid-back game turned into an intense contest. Usually, and even when there are new faces around, I play the point so I wouldn't have to mix it up inside with the big boys. But when instincts kick in I find myself in the paint, hustling, doing what I used to do back in my college days. I don't even recall the number of times I get scratched, bruised and hit. I don't mind it at all. It's all part of the game. What I do mind are the overly eager ones who, once they realize that I'm no pushover out there, start sticking to me like a glove. From the word go, they harass and press from the back court. They're in your face the minute you touch the ball. They poke at the ball in this awkward, ineffective manner---when you're dribbling with your left hand, they use their left to attempt to steal it. This isn't "NBA Live" and they're not Bruce Bowen or Ron Artest. I'm tempted to tell them, as kindly as I can,
"relax ka lang, you're not going to steal the ball that way, rookie, so quit it". But no, we'd have to bump heads a couple of times before the reality hits them. I'm not being such a "girl" about it. That move is obviously not going to work, even on me. I know these kids are learning the game as they go but how about toning it down a bit with the Gary Payton impersonations?
Anyway, we won 2 out of 3. I'm tempted to make the club exclusive to the 12 regulars I play with but I could use the change of pace, along with some ice. Maybe I'm just getting, err, I'm not going to say old, experienced? World-weary? Did I mention that Sunday nights are my favorite of the week? Who's got next?
