You are currently browsing posts tagged with Everybody Loves a Winner
UPSHOT TO HOSTING A PHOTO CONTEST FOR CUTE AMAZIAN BABY PICTURES: Your ploy to collect the world’s awesomest picture gallery of cutie patooties totally works, and you realize that (phew!) your readers not only have great taste in blogs/baby clothes, but also have pretty damn good genetics. You marvel at how much better you feel knowing that your audience is even more attractive than you thought. You totally (and selfishly) feel encouraged, convinced that your own future children will be adorable. You smile a lot. You sigh a LOT. You say “awwwwwwwwwwohmygoodnessbabiesbabiesbabies!!!” over and over and over again with giggles of glee.
DOWNSIDE TO HOSTING A PHOTO CONTEST FOR CUTE AMAZIAN BABY PICTURES: You realize that every photo you receive is the cutest photo you’ve ever seen. You realize that choosing between them is more difficult than picking an outfit for the first day of sixth grade. You spend many sleepless nights, tossing and turning, trying to decide which makes your heart skip more, Lily’s eyelashes or Kaiya’s Cheeks or Idris’s brows or Hero’s frown or Oscar’s bear ear hoodie. You decide to focus on photo composition and things like lighting/focus, but realize you don’t know jack about that stuff. You give up and lean on a psychic for help.
But through the ups and downs, we’ve enjoyed every single frickin’ minute of our very first AMAZIAN JR. BABY PHOTO CONTEST. SO LET’S GET TO THE GOOD PART!
The grand prize winner, who will receive a $50 Gift Certificate to Kumquat, is…
Congratulasians to Sophia and her parents! We can’t wait to see you rocking your new Kumquat garb!
But wait, there’s more.
What y’all didn’t know is that our first runner-up will be receiving a $25 Gift Certificate to Kumquat as well! Woohoo!!!
And the first runner-up photo is:
Guys, we couldn’t be more serious–we struggled so much to choose between all of these too-cute photos, especially when each little face made our wombs do a cheer. They’re simply too good to keep to ourselves, so we’re sharing all of the submissions with you (click to play)! ENJOY!!!
And to all of those parents out there, we highly recommend outfitting your little ones in Kumquat all day, every day. All of your cute photos will be EVEN CUTER, as if that’s even possible!!!
Thank you thank you thank you, Angelyn and Jasmine! And thank you to all of those who submitted photos!!!
Name: Y.E. Yang (a.k.a. Yang Yong-eun)
Hails from: South Korea
Occupation: Professional Golfer
Known for: Despite starting Sunday as a 20-1 underdog ranked #110 in the world, unleashing a shocking performance to ultimately best #1 Tiger Woods (previously 14 for 14 as a closer in majors) for the win in the 2009 PGA Championship.
Since the upset, Yang has been described as an almost mythical hero:
…and we’re totally buying it. Besides possessing one truly astounding great win, Yang really does seem like a pretty great, humble guy–and wouldn’t you know it, also happens to be the very first male from Asia to win a major golf championship.
We can barely avoid tearing up while reading his own words of inspirasian for the peeps:
“’I hope this win would be as — if not as significant, something quite parallel to an impact both to golf in Korea as well as golf in Asia so that all the young golfers, Korean and Asian, would probably build their dreams and expand their horizons a bit with this win,’ he said.“
Can you? Didn’t think so. We’re so feeling the hype!
Occupations: Huang is a financial/business consultant, Mahajan an internist and health services researcher.
Known for: Their recent appointment (along with 13 other men and women) by President Obama to serve as prestigious White House Fellows–an honor “based on a record of remarkable professional achievement early in one’s career, evidence of leadership potential, a proven commitment to public service, and the knowledge and skills necessary to contribute successfully at the highest levels of the Federal government” (maybe you’ve heard of a couple other White House Fellows, like Colin Powell and Wesley Clark).
Perhaps what makes these appointments even more remarkable are the respective journeys that Huang and Mahajan have taken en route to Pennsylvania Ave. Huang, who arrived in the U.S. at age 10, was placed in 5th grade without knowing a word of English; he decided to memorize a 100 words a day out of the dictionary until he was rocking 10th grade AP English, ultimately moving on to obtain degrees in Economics and Business at Stanford and Harvard, and become the youngest-ever Managing Director at Intel. Mahajan was clearly born to multitask; he obtained a public policy degree from Brown before earning his M.D. there, completed a Master’s in public health at Harvard while researching low-cost monitoring strategies for HIV therapy and characterizing the response of the private sector to AIDS in southern Africa, and has been serving a 2-year stint as an LA neighborhood council member while working as an internist at UCLA medical center.
Wow. Um, we love overachievers and all, but this is ridiculous.
Our Children of Invention Are Smarter/More Successful/Likely to Give Us Grandkids Than Your Children of Invention
Jen and I typically, like Morrissey, hate it when our friends become successful.
Every so often, however, this is not the case.
Like right now, for example: we’ve been watching our pen pal Tze Chun’s film, Children of Invention, make the festival rounds and rack up gobs of sparkling accolades and awards. And they’re not little awards, either: Special Jury Prizes at the Nashville, Sarasota, and San Francisco International Asian American Film Festivals (for example), The Grand Jury Prize at the Independent Film Fest in Boston, blah blah blah win win win. Agh!
And you wanna know something? We couldn’t be happier. Weird.
North Korean leader Kim Jong-Il has been re-elected to the country’s parliament after an, um, arduous election season.
A “popular” leader, Jong-Il beamed in response to the deep–ahem–support, hauling in a laudable 100% of votes from his constituency.
Hrmm. What can we say? A, uh, fair election is a fair election, and, ehm, the people have spoken, we guess. So (cough, cough) congratulations to the… victor. For his… victory. In this competitive… election.
Moving on! Now that this mighty contest is behind him, maybe that bastard can direct his attention towards giving our girls Laura and Euna back.
Dammit all to hell.
If we had known that G4 was shooting Ninja Warrior on a custom course in SoCal’s sunny Santa Monica, just twenty minutes (or 2.3 hours, with traffic) from DISGRASIAN HQ, Jen and I would not have spent last Saturday doing frivolous, meaningless things like going for dumplings, dealing with our taxes, or attending weddings!
We would have put on our knee pads, knocked down a few Red Bull Lights, and killed that mothafuckin’ course! KILLED IT! MAIMED ITS FACE! RIPPED ITS FUGGIN’ NUTSACK OFF!
Ah well, at least our friend Olivia did:
DISGRASIAN will be LiveBlogging from the 10th Annual San Diego Asian Film Festival this October–they’re seeking the best in Asian/Asian-American cinema, and lawd knows we Asians love to be the best–so we’d be psyched to see your film there.
More importantly: there’s a CASH MUNNY prize for the Jury winner. What better reason to enter? Woot!
The entry deadline is in a month. Here’s the info:
Early Deadline: April 30, 2009 ($25 fee)
Late Deadline: June 10, 2009 ($40 fee)
Rules, entry forms, and festival info are available at www.sdaff.org
And for more info, call 858.565.1264 or connect the way we do: Info@sdaff.org
My major issue with the wax statue of Yao Ming that recently debuted at NY’s Madame Tussauds…
…is that the wax version looks really, really scared that he’s not gonna make a foul shot. I mean, for chrissake, he’s Yao Ming. Homeboy does not know failure intimately–why worry?
Filed under: Allergic to Failure, Basketball, Everybody Loves a Winner, Excellence, Foul Shots, Madame Tussauds, Questionable Likeness, Wax Figures Are Creepy, Why Are His Wax Arms So Stiff?, Yao Ming
Name: Manny “Pacman” Pacquiao aka The Mexicutioner aka People’s Champ aka Pambansang Kamao (“National Fist”)
Occupation: Professional Boxer
Known for: Being the first Asian (and Pinoy) boxer to win four world titles in different weight divisions, and–as of June of this year–the Ring Magazine pound-for-pound top-ranked boxer in the world. Pacquiao defeated Golden Boy Oscar De La Hoya in “the Dream Match” with an eighth-round TKO this weekend, outstepping De La Hoya’s five-inch reach advantage to beat the icon. The victory, however, did not go without a humble response. From AP:
De La Hoya’s left eye was closed shut as he sat on his stool after the eighth round and the ring doctor, referee and his cornermen discussed his condition. De La Hoya offered no complaints when his corner decided he had enough, getting up from his stool and walking to the center of the ring to congratulate the victor.
“You’re still my idol,” Pacquiao told him.
“No, you’re my idol,” De La Hoya said.
Aww. For the time being, we’re going to go with De La Hoya–Pacquiao is our new idol, and we’re super psyched that there’s someone finally restoring the luster back to the name “Pacman”–unlike, say, Jen’s ne’er-do-well, now-silent, alchie Cowboy Adam “Pacman” Jones.
Filed under: Big Wins, Boxers, Everybody Loves a Winner, Filipinos, Fists of Fury, Idols, Manny Pacquiao, Nicknames, Number Ones, Oscar De La Hoya, Pacman Jones, Pacmen, Professional Athletes, Ripped Bodies
I hadn’t cheered for anything or anybody in three years–since my rejection by the leggy girl–and had even mistakenly come to believe that my new-found restraint was a kind of maturity. Oh, I had had my enthusiasms, but they were dark, the adoration of the griefs and morbidities men commit to paper in the name of literature, the homage I had paid the whole sickly aristocracy of letters. But a man can dwell too long with grief, and now, quite suddenly, quite wonderfully, I wanted to cheer again…
–A Fan’s Notes, Frederick Exley
Today I am inappropriately sad. The Sox lost to the Rays Sunday night in Game 7 of the ALCS, 3-1. This after an improbable, Lazarus-like comeback in Game 5 at Fenway, when the Sox were down 7-0 in the seventh inning and looked, to all intents and purposes, like their season was finished. You could spin their losing in seven as the Sox losing with dignity, but I don’t buy that. A loss is a loss, and it always feels like a punch to the throat.
I say “inappropriately sad” because I am a grownup, and I know cognitively that I shouldn’t feel this way. I’ve also experienced enough heartbreak seasons to have developed a thicker skin, and more than my share of victories to sustain me through dismal moments like today. But, if you’re still reading this, you know that no one watches sports to feel or act like a grownup. That may be the reason why you got suckered into this bipolar mode of existence–to emulate and impress your father, your grandfather, or, in my case, your older brother–and started reading the sports pages when you were eight years old and obsessively tracking stats before you ever learned long division, but that’s not why you stayed. That’s not why you kept watching losing season after losing season, why you persisted in loving a team that didn’t love you back, why you dreamt of winning a Super Bowl even when the only good thing that you could say about your QB is that he also knew how to punt the ball on that inevitable 4th down, why you intermittently believed in the power of prayer, why you didn’t turn the TV off and go to the movies when your team was down seven runs in the seventh inning of an elimination game. Loving a team is, in other words, totally irrational. It is child-like in its devotion. It is a love that clings.
The flip-side of the pain that this irrational love brings you most of the time is the unfettered joy you experience when your team wins. Fourteen Januarys that end with you sobbing uncontrollably on the dusty, dander-coated carpet of your parents’ living room before you get your first taste of victory? Worth it. Nine seasons of getting punked by either the Lakers or the Celtics in the Magic-Bird era before the Big One? Whatever. 86 years of curses, late-inning, pennant-clinching home runs by the opposing team, rollers between the legs, and Game 7 pitching collapses for not one but two World Series sweeps? An embarrassment of riches.
But, as the saying goes, winning isn’t everything. I mean, it is and it isn’t. No one wants their team to lose, because that means they’re a loser, too. But without losing and heartbreak, winning is shallow and pretty, stuff for the beautiful people. It is for those who want courtside seats because it is a place to be seen. It is for bandwagoneers who only want their ride to the championship to purr, and not to hiss, sputter, and moan. It’s not for those of you who have put up with this rambling monologue and are actually still reading, or for me. Because we watch the game to feel something, whether it’s misery or exultation. We futilely scream and convulse in the stands while our extremities go numb from the cold because it often gives us a better high than sex or dope. And we root for our teams, year after year, pain upon pain, with the occasional joy teasing our sorrow just enough to ensure our return, because everything else in life is far more complicated, tedious, and disappointing.
Happy 18th birthday to Mao Asada, who is currently the top-ranked figure skater in the world! We truly envy all of the achievements you’ve tucked under your belt before today–no, wait, we envy your skinny legs and ability to live out our mothers’ gold-medal ice dreams. Augh!
Come visit us in America! You’re old enough to buy cigarettes and watch dirty movies here; what better way to celebrate?