June 7th, 2009

Charah coffee

Clueless waiters, alcohol, and tennis.

Christian Bale robbed me of my Sunday morning, my beauty sleep, and my $10.

Terminator Salvation is an unforgivable steaming pile of shit. I actually like the first two Terminator movies (though I can't remember if I watched the third one), which may seem surprising but really isn't if you've watched them instead of merely having heard of them. I was really excited about Salvation because it's Terminator + Christian Bale, which, in an ideal, perfect world, would equal perfection, or something good and meaningful that vaguely matches up to Batman Begins/The Dark Knight. Or just, you know, the original two movies.

BUT. NO.

It was a bombastic, soulless, meaningless, empty and useless two hours' worth of boring machine guns going off and stuff blowing up every other ten minutes, ugly-looking robots being destroyed, and the main characters running all over the place to god-knows-where from god-knows-what and bloody hell, no matter how hard Christian Bale tried, he couldn't succeed in making me care. This stupid Salvation shit insults the first two Terminator movies. Christian Bale, by choosing to associate himself with this rubbish, has just undermined his artistic cred in my eyes.

What the fuck man. I don't even know if I can call the movie plot-driven because there was no freaking plot. I had no idea what the hell everyone was doing, what it was John Connor was attempting to save the world from, what the big deal was at the end when the Resistance, duh, won the stupid war. And Sam Worthington's character had SO much potential, but the director/whoever chose instead to hit me over the head with the "humanity is good" message and, in the process, completely shit all over the could've-been-intriguing Marcus Wright character. I was expecting a huge morality conflict, but instead, all I got was some stupid anti-climatic "I AM A MAN!!!!" bullshit, some "everyone deserves a second chance" bullshit sermonising, and that was it. It was so utterly stupid. And oh my god, the final fight scene between John and the Terminator (when he first appeared in human form, I laughed out loud at the computer-generated Arnie) could not have been a bigger rip-off of the Final Fight Scenes from the original movies. I get that it's a continuation of the franchise, but the whole thing is already so bad and had nothing in common with the original ones except Bale's character, so I don't see why they had to shit on the original ones somemore by copying the Final Fight Scenes.

And the bad guy in T2 could turn his hand into a knife. THAT was damn cool. The bad guy here...wait, was there even a bad guy? There was some robot that randomly came out of nowhere (the Arnie lookalike) that randomly started attacking John for no reason but that was about it. And he didn't have a hand that could turn into a knife.

Fucking stupid movie. What was Christian Bale smoking when he took on this role? I can't believe I wasted one bloody morning watching a bloody stupid typical brainless action movie. AND it tried to pass off as a Terminator movie.

McG, I know you produce Chuck, and I love Chuck and all...but please. Go fuck yourself. Thx u.

***

Although I'm a very impatient person, I consider myself generally cordial towards service staff. I'm polite to waiters and when I'm not in a hurry, I am capable of waiting a little bit longer for my food or the bill. I thank waiters when they refill my water, serve me my food, things like that.

But there is only so much bullshit I can take. Of course, it's arguable that, due to my inherently impatient nature, my bullshit threshold is lower than the average reasonable person's; but I think even the average reasonable person would not have exhibited a placidity and equanimity when faced with this clueless waiter that had the misfortune of serving me at Tony Romas' last night.

He had no idea what his restaurant serves. I asked him about the grilled fish and what my options are when I didn't understand what the menu said. Not only was he clueless, he actually went, and I quote, "Huh?"

Except it was more like, "Har?"

Oh. My. God. I swear, I was this close to saying something really rude to him, but instead I started laughing. I guess I was in a good mood. But still, I can't help but recall that night during my 21st birthday when a few JC friends and I went to some don't know what stupid bar at the Orchard area (where Alley and Acid are. Or whatever they're called) and were appalled when the service staff didn't have a clue what went into their drinks. I mean, really. If you're going to work in a restaurant, isn't it understood, a given, that you're kind of expected to know what's on the menu and what goes into a dish or a drink when a customer asks you about it?

But then, lucky me, I've never had to work a day in my life as a waitress, so I guess I'm not able to comprehend the complexity of memorising, or at least familiarising yourself, with the menu.

Okay I was about to say something bitchy but it's really mean so I'm going to abandon that train of thought. At least the clueless waiter apologised after he said "har" to me.And he did scoot off to check with some supervisor about the stuff I was asking, so he wasn't THAT hopeless or useless.

I think I should learn to be more patient, right? I know. Which was why when the waitress for whom I asked for the bill replied with a curt "ya", all I did was wear this expression on my face like I ate something gross and just let it go. See, I'm learning day by day.

I can't decide if I'm actually serious. Oh well.

Anyway, I stupidly decided to drink alcohol last night despite not having had a drip of it since December last year. Thankfully it was just Tong or I would've been seriously shamed. Actually, it was because it was him that I even decided to order a Mojito (and it was just one sad drink. I'm really sad); I never drink with people I'm not comfortable with. Precisely because I can't drink. And when I'm under the influence of alcohol, no matter how little? I become a shadow of my true, intelligent self.

It was really sad. It also didn't help that I was super tired yesterday, having to wake up at 9 to play tennis which tired the shit out of me, then going to the Fullerton for lunch with my extended family, and resting maybe three seconds at home before Tong came in a nice cab to pick me up. So yeah, I was really tired. The alcohol made me even more sleepy. So I was slumped in the couch, wanting badly to put my legs up on the other couch but resisting the temptation because it is unsightly, and suddenly this waitress came by and asked me if I wanted lime juice; it'd help bring down the alcohol.

Oh my gad. She even asked me if I'd peed yet. HAHAHA. It reflects more on her than me though. For sure I was a bit woozy last night, but I'd definitely been through worse, but no one cared enough to offer me lime juice and advise me to go to the toilet and relieve myself. The waitress was really super seriously nice. REALLY SUPER SERIOUSLY NICE. More waiters and waitresses should be like her to save me from future coronaries and heart attacks. Seriously.

So anyway, I really have no idea what possessed me to order a cocktail, but there you go. Tong was very amused by my alcohol-induced alter-ego - and that's putting it mildly. I'm not going to touch alcohol for the next six months. And I actually forgot - FORGOT - that cocktails/alcohol/I dunno make my legs hurt like mad. I don't even know if it hurt last night 'cause I slept really early.

Also, I was super annoyed with my dad last night. He called me at 11.20 fucking PM and seriously asked, "Do you know what time it is now?" Sometimes I really can't be bothered with him. You talk to me unreasonably, and I'm just not going to waste my time dignifying your shit with a proper response. I have been a really good daughter for the most part - don't drink, don't smoke, don't go out with a new guy every two weeks, don't travel with random guys, don't sleep around, don't club, don't do anything they deem bad - and this is the thanks I get. How bloody annoying.

And today when I said that I wanted to buy new shoes because the ones I've been wearing for work are eating my feet for breakfast, lunch and dinner, he got all pissed and started ranting about the number of pairs of shoe I have at home. As if any random pair of shoes is capable of being worn to work.

What the fuck. Forget it. Talking about this is a waste of time, and I have better things to do with my time.

Anyway, last night was fun. I'm waiting for my dim sum treat. Raffles Hotel okay? Yay.

(No but I've never eaten dim sum there. I shall drag my parents there for lunch one fine day. When PLC starts. I can't wait for PLC.)

***

FRENCH OPEN FINAL TONIGHT.

Safina lost last night. Fucking hell. Didn't watch (when I found out the place we were at switched to SuperSports, it was already the prize-giving ceremony) so can't comment, but...fucking hell.

Still, MEN'S FINAL TONIGHT. Roger is one match away from going down in history as The Greatest of All-Time. I never thought the day would come when he's so close to having an actual shot at winning Roland Garros. Nadal is not in the final. For the first time in four years, the new French Open champion will not be named Rafael Nadal. It might actually - probably - be Roger Federer.

OH MY GOD GETTING EXCITED JUST THINKING ABOUT IT. Of course I'm gonna be scared shitless later at nine, but OMG I'm so gonna cry. If he loses, I'd cry my eyes out; if he wins, I'd cry my heart out.

GO ROGER GO.

***

There was something else I wanted to say but I don't remember what it was so let's move on.

Yeah, that's about all I want to say.

Oh, wait, I wanted to say one more thing: Tennis yesterday morning was so damn tiring. I'm not gonna attempt to play tennis when I severely lack sleep ever again. It was so bad. I couldn't focus after a few balls and I hit like 5 crap backhands in a row. It was shit. Shit. Shit.

But! I hit a smashing winner which shocked my partner (the NUS wall guy). Haha! That was fun.

Charah coffee

(Roland Garros 2009) FINAL: FEDERER D. SODERLING 6-1, 7-6(1), 6-4

Roger's first serves have made a comeback in time for the final.

Soderling's playing like shit.

Two more sets to tennis history.

Let's make it 6-1, 6-0, 6-0!

***

Bleah, Roger gave Soderling one free game. 2-1 now, on serve.

***

9.53 p.m.:

OMG. SOME PSYCHO RAN ONTO THE COURT WHEN SODERLING WAS SERVING AT 0-15, 1-2, WITH SOME RED AND YELLOW FLAG AND TRIED TO COVER ROGER WITH IT.

STUPID PSYCHO WAS CLEARLY TRYING TO HARASS HIM.

SOME SUITS RAN ONTO THE COURT AND TACKLED THE PSYCHO.

ROGER PLAYED ON. 0-15 BECAME A HOLD FOR SODERLING.

THEN ON HIS OWN SERVICE GAME, HE PLAYED A REALLY LOOSE BACKHAND.

SHIT.

I WONDER HOW HE CAN STILL PLAY WHEN I'M STILL THINKING ABOUT THAT STUPID FLAG PSYCHO.

I HOPE HE'S OKAY.

SHIT.

IF HE LOSES THIS, I'M BLAMING THE STUPID FLAG GUY.

***

10.09 p.m.:

No breaks as of yet. I'm getting impatient. The weather is not holding up too well either; it's already drizzling.

Come on Roger, finish this before it pours! I have to work tomorrow!

(Because, yeah, it's all about me.)

***

10.26 p.m.:

Hahahahah Roger won the second set tie-break 7-1.

Not only that: He served ALL aces in this tie-break.

THAT IS AMAZING ROGER.

ONE MORE SET TO TENNIS HISTORY.

***

10.54 p.m.:

Roger's up a break in the third. Was hoping he'd go up a double break, but...if he continues to hold serve, he's gonna win this within the next 15 minutes.

OMG OMG OMG I CAN'T WAIT.

He served three aces in a row when it was 15-all on his serve. He's really amazing. I don't even care he's losing the long rallies; as long as he wins this match, I don't care how he wins it.

He needs the title. He deserves it, more than anyone else.

***

11.13 p.m.:

ROGER FEDERER IS THE GREATEST PLAYER OF ALL-TIME.

OH MY GOD OH MY GOD I CAN'T BELIEVE IT I CAN'T BELIEVE HE JUST WON THE FUCKING FRENCH OPEN.

HE JUST TIED THE SAMPRAS RECORD.

WHEN HE WINS WIMBLEDON AND THE US OPEN LATER ON, HE'S GOING TO BREAK THE RECORD.

OH. MY. GOD

I DON'T EVEN KNOW.

GOING TO WATCH THE CEREMONY NOW.

***

11.36 p.m.:

He cried.

OMG HE CRIED.

And this time? IT WASN'T BECAUSE HE LOST.

How amazing is he? He was so nervous serving it out, he hit an easy put-away long and gave Soderling a break point. Thankfully Soderling eventually shanked a forehand; after that, Roger hit two great first serves and when Soderling's return on championship point sailed wide, Roger dropped to his knees, let out a yelp, and started crying.

OH MY GOD.

I honestly cannot believe I just witnessed him win the French Open. It was the ONLY Grand Slam he'd never won, and it was the Grand Slam I thought he'd never win. But he did it. HE. DID. IT. Soderling was never a match for him for sure, and I was too relaxed throughout the match; if it'd been Nadal, my nails would've been completely gone by now. I don't even care he didn't beat Nadal to nab the French. All I care about right now is...

ROGER FEDERER WON THE FRENCH OPEN.

With this win, he did the following:

1. Tied Sampras' record for 14 Grand Slams;
2. Became the 6th man to ever achieve the Career Slam (win all four Grand Slams, though not in the same year); and
3. Arguably, became the Greatest of All-time.

Pete Sampras never reached a single French Open final. He won 14 Slams, but not a single one of them was won in Paris. Roger winning 1 of his 14 Slams on clay arguably puts him one rung above Pete - which is why I keep harping on about tennis history. Tennis. History.

Oh my god. I hope wins the Grand Slam next year, sweeping all four Slams in one year. A pity he didn't win Australia; but shit, who even cares. He just won the French Open.

His website is down. Not that I expected any less.

OH MY GOD. I LOVE ROGER FEDERER.

***

11.52 p.m.:

I can't imagine what it'd feel like being one of the Fedtards who have waited for him to win this tournament for four years. Because I've been a Fedtard for less than a year, and already I don't know what to do with myself. MY WEEK HAS OFFICIALLY BEEN PERFECTED BY THIS GLORIOUS, PERFECT WIN BY THIS GLORIOUS, PERFECT MAN.

This win has erased all his shitty losses in the beginning of the season. This win is the reason I don't give up on him - because when he's back, it's glorious; it's magnificent; it rights all the wrongs in the world; and there is just nothing like it. Absolutely nothing. I can't even begin to express how it is that a complete stranger's personal success is capable of meaning so much to me - but it is.

I wasn't teary at all the moment he won, but now, writing this, I'm seriously getting a lump in my throat.

OMG.

More pictures coming soon. You can bet on it. Be prepared for yet another Epic PicSpam!