.fullpassport/
Adolescence is a kind of emotional seasickness. Both are funny, but only in retrospect. Arthur Koestler
After fifty, a man begins to deteriorate, but in the forties he is at the maximum of his villainy. H.L. Mencken
It is better to protest than to accept injustice. Rosa Pa
Saturday, August 28, 2004
Friday, August 20, 2004
The World's Worst MotherBy Polly Anne Wise
After mothering me for thirty years, my mom stood in the kitchen of my home and announced these words, "I was the world's worst mother, and I am so sorry." She then proceeded to apologize for all the things that she did wrong in raising me. I realized that she was filled with guilt about the strict rules of her child-raising years, causing me to miss many school dances. She was mortified that she and my father were too poor to afford my high school ring. She was ashamed of herself for punishments that lasted for weeks. She was sad that she tried to choose my friends. My mother went on and on about her mistakes and regrets as tears of pain streamed down her face.
Right at that moment my mom looked so beautiful. I wondered why my entire family, including me, took her for granted. How do you tell your mother all that she is to you? I wanted to tell her that the punishments and strict rules of my childhood have a small spot in my memory in comparison to my recollections of the nights she let me stay up late and bake cookies with her. I kept silent instead of telling her how much it meant that she scraped together the money for my wedding shoes and matching purse. I couldn't swallow the lump in my throat so I could explain all of the millions of ways she makes me feel so special. I should have told my mother, on that day, that of all the people in my life, no one has ever loved me in the unconditional way that she does. Four years have gone by since the day I didn't tell my mother that her mistakes were tiny molehills, and her love and understanding were big beautiful mountains in my life. But I'm telling her now. Thank you, Mom, and thank you, God, for the world's worst mother.
After mothering me for thirty years, my mom stood in the kitchen of my home and announced these words, "I was the world's worst mother, and I am so sorry." She then proceeded to apologize for all the things that she did wrong in raising me. I realized that she was filled with guilt about the strict rules of her child-raising years, causing me to miss many school dances. She was mortified that she and my father were too poor to afford my high school ring. She was ashamed of herself for punishments that lasted for weeks. She was sad that she tried to choose my friends. My mother went on and on about her mistakes and regrets as tears of pain streamed down her face.
Right at that moment my mom looked so beautiful. I wondered why my entire family, including me, took her for granted. How do you tell your mother all that she is to you? I wanted to tell her that the punishments and strict rules of my childhood have a small spot in my memory in comparison to my recollections of the nights she let me stay up late and bake cookies with her. I kept silent instead of telling her how much it meant that she scraped together the money for my wedding shoes and matching purse. I couldn't swallow the lump in my throat so I could explain all of the millions of ways she makes me feel so special. I should have told my mother, on that day, that of all the people in my life, no one has ever loved me in the unconditional way that she does. Four years have gone by since the day I didn't tell my mother that her mistakes were tiny molehills, and her love and understanding were big beautiful mountains in my life. But I'm telling her now. Thank you, Mom, and thank you, God, for the world's worst mother.
Thursday, January 08, 2004
New Year's Resolution
New Year's Resolution
By Diana von Welanetz Wentworth
Hello Body, I wrote in my journal and listened inwardly for an answer. My belly growled back, It's about time you paid some attention to me!
How did my body and I lose rapport? It began in my agonizing year in junior high when I grew eight inches in one year and didn't know what size my feet would be when my lanky form climbed out of bed in the morning. This body, I thought, is way out of control. So I began to pretend that it didn't exist. I fed and clothed it, but hoped if I otherwise ignored it, it might go away.
Determined to heal my mind/body rift, I mustered my courage and marched into a gym near my home, looking for a personal trainer. I had never done any deliberate exercise other than walking, so this was going to be a big stretch.
The bronzed, sculpted woman at the desk could have been a model in a muscle magazine. Gathering my courage, I took a breath, and on the exhale I said, "I'd like a trial session." Clearly bored by the prospect of a midlife client, she put me through an extraordinary number of impossible-for-me exercises, all the while pursing her lips and stealing seductive glances at herself in the mirror.
She could have the mirror. Feeling old and frumpy, I hated every minute on the torture machines, but pride kept me in the game. Muttering this is good for me like a mantra, I signed up for twelve sessions, and paid in advance.
Buyer's remorse descended like a dark cloud when I got home, but I vowed to do it for one month no matter what. The next day I could hardly move; every muscle in my body ached. I canceled my appointment. Still sore two days later, I called and asked for my money back. No one returned my call; the contract's fine print told me no refunds. I'd gotten myself into this pickle and I would have to live with it.
For the next few months, I vented my anger doing exercise videos at home. It's too much trouble to go to a gym, I told myself. I like the privacy of working alone. But these solo sessions at home were inconsistent, and I knew I needed weight training to get results.
One day my psychologist-daughter Lexi told me over lunch that she had begun working out at a gym and raved about the improvement in her body tone, energy level and stamina. Meanwhile, I recounted my hard luck story, getting tired of my whining litany.
Lexi offered to drive across town to join me at my gym so I bit the bullet and made an appointment with a different trainer. He and Lexi had me laughing all through the session. We clarified my goals and set a schedule of three times a week.
I attended every session, worked at a moderate pace and never suffered the soreness of the original workout again. Sure enough, I began to love the surge of energy and satisfaction that came after each session. When the month was up, I signed up for three more - then three more months after that. By then I found a trainer named Mike Krpan who came right to my house for the same price as the gym, and I've stayed with twice-weekly workouts for almost five years. I realize that not everyone can afford or needs to hire a personal trainer, but that's what works for me.
I'm amazed at how much my formerly ignored body has changed. Even though I weigh only three pounds less than when I began, weight is no longer an issue. Now when I look in a mirror, I purse my lips and smile as I see firm arms and shoulders, a slimmer waist, flatter tummy, taut and toned thighs, and straighter posture. Best of all, I feel years younger.
I was shopping with Lexi the other day, and I tried on a rather revealing dress. "Wow," she said, "guess I'll have to call you 'Buff Mama!'"
The time and effort it took to train these last few years were one of the best investments of my life. Now when I ask my body what it would like me to do, it tells me I'm doing just fine. In the place of anger and frustration is a new sense of teamwork and partnership, my body and soul.
Hello Body, I wrote in my journal and listened inwardly for an answer. My belly growled back, It's about time you paid some attention to me!
How did my body and I lose rapport? It began in my agonizing year in junior high when I grew eight inches in one year and didn't know what size my feet would be when my lanky form climbed out of bed in the morning. This body, I thought, is way out of control. So I began to pretend that it didn't exist. I fed and clothed it, but hoped if I otherwise ignored it, it might go away.
Determined to heal my mind/body rift, I mustered my courage and marched into a gym near my home, looking for a personal trainer. I had never done any deliberate exercise other than walking, so this was going to be a big stretch.
The bronzed, sculpted woman at the desk could have been a model in a muscle magazine. Gathering my courage, I took a breath, and on the exhale I said, "I'd like a trial session." Clearly bored by the prospect of a midlife client, she put me through an extraordinary number of impossible-for-me exercises, all the while pursing her lips and stealing seductive glances at herself in the mirror.
She could have the mirror. Feeling old and frumpy, I hated every minute on the torture machines, but pride kept me in the game. Muttering this is good for me like a mantra, I signed up for twelve sessions, and paid in advance.
Buyer's remorse descended like a dark cloud when I got home, but I vowed to do it for one month no matter what. The next day I could hardly move; every muscle in my body ached. I canceled my appointment. Still sore two days later, I called and asked for my money back. No one returned my call; the contract's fine print told me no refunds. I'd gotten myself into this pickle and I would have to live with it.
For the next few months, I vented my anger doing exercise videos at home. It's too much trouble to go to a gym, I told myself. I like the privacy of working alone. But these solo sessions at home were inconsistent, and I knew I needed weight training to get results.
One day my psychologist-daughter Lexi told me over lunch that she had begun working out at a gym and raved about the improvement in her body tone, energy level and stamina. Meanwhile, I recounted my hard luck story, getting tired of my whining litany.
Lexi offered to drive across town to join me at my gym so I bit the bullet and made an appointment with a different trainer. He and Lexi had me laughing all through the session. We clarified my goals and set a schedule of three times a week.
I attended every session, worked at a moderate pace and never suffered the soreness of the original workout again. Sure enough, I began to love the surge of energy and satisfaction that came after each session. When the month was up, I signed up for three more - then three more months after that. By then I found a trainer named Mike Krpan who came right to my house for the same price as the gym, and I've stayed with twice-weekly workouts for almost five years. I realize that not everyone can afford or needs to hire a personal trainer, but that's what works for me.
I'm amazed at how much my formerly ignored body has changed. Even though I weigh only three pounds less than when I began, weight is no longer an issue. Now when I look in a mirror, I purse my lips and smile as I see firm arms and shoulders, a slimmer waist, flatter tummy, taut and toned thighs, and straighter posture. Best of all, I feel years younger.
I was shopping with Lexi the other day, and I tried on a rather revealing dress. "Wow," she said, "guess I'll have to call you 'Buff Mama!'"
The time and effort it took to train these last few years were one of the best investments of my life. Now when I ask my body what it would like me to do, it tells me I'm doing just fine. In the place of anger and frustration is a new sense of teamwork and partnership, my body and soul.
New Year's Resolution
By Diana von Welanetz Wentworth
Hello Body, I wrote in my journal and listened inwardly for an answer. My belly growled back, It's about time you paid some attention to me!
How did my body and I lose rapport? It began in my agonizing year in junior high when I grew eight inches in one year and didn't know what size my feet would be when my lanky form climbed out of bed in the morning. This body, I thought, is way out of control. So I began to pretend that it didn't exist. I fed and clothed it, but hoped if I otherwise ignored it, it might go away.
Determined to heal my mind/body rift, I mustered my courage and marched into a gym near my home, looking for a personal trainer. I had never done any deliberate exercise other than walking, so this was going to be a big stretch.
The bronzed, sculpted woman at the desk could have been a model in a muscle magazine. Gathering my courage, I took a breath, and on the exhale I said, "I'd like a trial session." Clearly bored by the prospect of a midlife client, she put me through an extraordinary number of impossible-for-me exercises, all the while pursing her lips and stealing seductive glances at herself in the mirror.
She could have the mirror. Feeling old and frumpy, I hated every minute on the torture machines, but pride kept me in the game. Muttering this is good for me like a mantra, I signed up for twelve sessions, and paid in advance.
Buyer's remorse descended like a dark cloud when I got home, but I vowed to do it for one month no matter what. The next day I could hardly move; every muscle in my body ached. I canceled my appointment. Still sore two days later, I called and asked for my money back. No one returned my call; the contract's fine print told me no refunds. I'd gotten myself into this pickle and I would have to live with it.
For the next few months, I vented my anger doing exercise videos at home. It's too much trouble to go to a gym, I told myself. I like the privacy of working alone. But these solo sessions at home were inconsistent, and I knew I needed weight training to get results.
One day my psychologist-daughter Lexi told me over lunch that she had begun working out at a gym and raved about the improvement in her body tone, energy level and stamina. Meanwhile, I recounted my hard luck story, getting tired of my whining litany.
Lexi offered to drive across town to join me at my gym so I bit the bullet and made an appointment with a different trainer. He and Lexi had me laughing all through the session. We clarified my goals and set a schedule of three times a week.
I attended every session, worked at a moderate pace and never suffered the soreness of the original workout again. Sure enough, I began to love the surge of energy and satisfaction that came after each session. When the month was up, I signed up for three more - then three more months after that. By then I found a trainer named Mike Krpan who came right to my house for the same price as the gym, and I've stayed with twice-weekly workouts for almost five years. I realize that not everyone can afford or needs to hire a personal trainer, but that's what works for me.
I'm amazed at how much my formerly ignored body has changed. Even though I weigh only three pounds less than when I began, weight is no longer an issue. Now when I look in a mirror, I purse my lips and smile as I see firm arms and shoulders, a slimmer waist, flatter tummy, taut and toned thighs, and straighter posture. Best of all, I feel years younger.
I was shopping with Lexi the other day, and I tried on a rather revealing dress. "Wow," she said, "guess I'll have to call you 'Buff Mama!'"
The time and effort it took to train these last few years were one of the best investments of my life. Now when I ask my body what it would like me to do, it tells me I'm doing just fine. In the place of anger and frustration is a new sense of teamwork and partnership, my body and soul.
Hello Body, I wrote in my journal and listened inwardly for an answer. My belly growled back, It's about time you paid some attention to me!
How did my body and I lose rapport? It began in my agonizing year in junior high when I grew eight inches in one year and didn't know what size my feet would be when my lanky form climbed out of bed in the morning. This body, I thought, is way out of control. So I began to pretend that it didn't exist. I fed and clothed it, but hoped if I otherwise ignored it, it might go away.
Determined to heal my mind/body rift, I mustered my courage and marched into a gym near my home, looking for a personal trainer. I had never done any deliberate exercise other than walking, so this was going to be a big stretch.
The bronzed, sculpted woman at the desk could have been a model in a muscle magazine. Gathering my courage, I took a breath, and on the exhale I said, "I'd like a trial session." Clearly bored by the prospect of a midlife client, she put me through an extraordinary number of impossible-for-me exercises, all the while pursing her lips and stealing seductive glances at herself in the mirror.
She could have the mirror. Feeling old and frumpy, I hated every minute on the torture machines, but pride kept me in the game. Muttering this is good for me like a mantra, I signed up for twelve sessions, and paid in advance.
Buyer's remorse descended like a dark cloud when I got home, but I vowed to do it for one month no matter what. The next day I could hardly move; every muscle in my body ached. I canceled my appointment. Still sore two days later, I called and asked for my money back. No one returned my call; the contract's fine print told me no refunds. I'd gotten myself into this pickle and I would have to live with it.
For the next few months, I vented my anger doing exercise videos at home. It's too much trouble to go to a gym, I told myself. I like the privacy of working alone. But these solo sessions at home were inconsistent, and I knew I needed weight training to get results.
One day my psychologist-daughter Lexi told me over lunch that she had begun working out at a gym and raved about the improvement in her body tone, energy level and stamina. Meanwhile, I recounted my hard luck story, getting tired of my whining litany.
Lexi offered to drive across town to join me at my gym so I bit the bullet and made an appointment with a different trainer. He and Lexi had me laughing all through the session. We clarified my goals and set a schedule of three times a week.
I attended every session, worked at a moderate pace and never suffered the soreness of the original workout again. Sure enough, I began to love the surge of energy and satisfaction that came after each session. When the month was up, I signed up for three more - then three more months after that. By then I found a trainer named Mike Krpan who came right to my house for the same price as the gym, and I've stayed with twice-weekly workouts for almost five years. I realize that not everyone can afford or needs to hire a personal trainer, but that's what works for me.
I'm amazed at how much my formerly ignored body has changed. Even though I weigh only three pounds less than when I began, weight is no longer an issue. Now when I look in a mirror, I purse my lips and smile as I see firm arms and shoulders, a slimmer waist, flatter tummy, taut and toned thighs, and straighter posture. Best of all, I feel years younger.
I was shopping with Lexi the other day, and I tried on a rather revealing dress. "Wow," she said, "guess I'll have to call you 'Buff Mama!'"
The time and effort it took to train these last few years were one of the best investments of my life. Now when I ask my body what it would like me to do, it tells me I'm doing just fine. In the place of anger and frustration is a new sense of teamwork and partnership, my body and soul.
Saturday, December 21, 2002
The Cat and the Christmas Star
By Whitney Von Lake Hopler
Linda, my missing cat, had shared a close relationship with me ever since I had adopted him about two years before. Despite the fact that I had given him a female name (after a cursory exam, our vet mistakenly told us he was female and we didn't find out the truth until much later) he didn't seem to mind. And even now, when we had taken him out of his familiar South Carolina neighborhood and moved him to Virginia, he seemed to bear it well. Linda continued to faithfully greet me every day when I returned home from school. But my younger sister had recently adopted a kitten, and Linda hadn't taken this change well. The image of the hurt look he had given me after meeting the kitten was still etched vividly in my memory.
One night soon afterward, he didn't come home for his evening meal, and none of my repeated calls throughout the neighborhood brought him running. The cheerfulness of the Christmas decorations on the houses failed to excite me the way they usually did. I went to bed reluctantly, certain he would turn up first thing the next morning. But I was wrong. And after two days, I started to panic.
Frantically, I dialed the local animal shelter, but no cats fitting his description had come in. So, with my family's help, I'd made and distributed the posters and even found a local radio station willing to announce Linda's disappearance and plead for his return. Every day after school, I spent hours either on foot or bike scanning the neighborhood for him and calling his name until my voice was hoarse. Every night in bed I asked God to bring him home.
By the time Christmas Eve had arrived, Linda still had not. He had been missing for eight days. After spending the church service and our Christmas Eve dinner distracted by my sadness and anxiety, I glumly went to bed where I dutifully prayed once more that God would bring Linda home. Then exhausted, I fell into a deep sleep.
Several hours later, my clock radio blinked 11:59 P.M. I suddenly awoke. It was rare for me to wake in the middle of the night; I'd always been a sound sleeper. But as I lay in the darkness I was fully awake and consumed with a desire to get up and look at the stars outside.
For several years, I'd had a personal Christmas Eve tradition of scanning the sky for the brightest star, which I liked to imagine was "the Christmas star." Whether it was actually the North Star that led the ancient wise men to baby Jesus in the manger, I didn't know. But I enjoyed viewing it anyway, and usually looked for it before I went to bed Christmas Eve. As I lay there wondering why I was awake all of a sudden, I realized that I hadn't even bothered to look for it this year.
Eagerly, I leapt from my bed and peeked through the blinds on my bedroom window, but couldn't discern any stars. Then a thought came to me with surprising strength. Try the front door. Now.
The thought of opening the door to the icy wind outside didn't excite me, but somehow, I felt, I had to find the Christmas star. So I unfastened both locks and swung the door open. Shivering in my nightgown, I scanned the sky until a silvery white dot came into view. The Christmas star! At that moment, I knew that no matter where Linda was, or if he ever returned, God still cared for me.
I stared at the star for a moment, then reached for the door to pull it shut, looking down to the front stoop as I did so. And then I saw him – Linda, thin, shivering, and reeking of gasoline. He sat quietly before me. His green eyes searched mine, as if to say, "I'm sorry. Will you take me back?"
Immediately, I scooped him up. But before I closed the door, I stood with Linda in my arms to gaze once more at the Christmas star. Then I said a prayer of thanks to the God who watches over all His creation – from the most distant star to the purring cat I held closely.
By Whitney Von Lake Hopler
Linda, my missing cat, had shared a close relationship with me ever since I had adopted him about two years before. Despite the fact that I had given him a female name (after a cursory exam, our vet mistakenly told us he was female and we didn't find out the truth until much later) he didn't seem to mind. And even now, when we had taken him out of his familiar South Carolina neighborhood and moved him to Virginia, he seemed to bear it well. Linda continued to faithfully greet me every day when I returned home from school. But my younger sister had recently adopted a kitten, and Linda hadn't taken this change well. The image of the hurt look he had given me after meeting the kitten was still etched vividly in my memory.
One night soon afterward, he didn't come home for his evening meal, and none of my repeated calls throughout the neighborhood brought him running. The cheerfulness of the Christmas decorations on the houses failed to excite me the way they usually did. I went to bed reluctantly, certain he would turn up first thing the next morning. But I was wrong. And after two days, I started to panic.
Frantically, I dialed the local animal shelter, but no cats fitting his description had come in. So, with my family's help, I'd made and distributed the posters and even found a local radio station willing to announce Linda's disappearance and plead for his return. Every day after school, I spent hours either on foot or bike scanning the neighborhood for him and calling his name until my voice was hoarse. Every night in bed I asked God to bring him home.
By the time Christmas Eve had arrived, Linda still had not. He had been missing for eight days. After spending the church service and our Christmas Eve dinner distracted by my sadness and anxiety, I glumly went to bed where I dutifully prayed once more that God would bring Linda home. Then exhausted, I fell into a deep sleep.
Several hours later, my clock radio blinked 11:59 P.M. I suddenly awoke. It was rare for me to wake in the middle of the night; I'd always been a sound sleeper. But as I lay in the darkness I was fully awake and consumed with a desire to get up and look at the stars outside.
For several years, I'd had a personal Christmas Eve tradition of scanning the sky for the brightest star, which I liked to imagine was "the Christmas star." Whether it was actually the North Star that led the ancient wise men to baby Jesus in the manger, I didn't know. But I enjoyed viewing it anyway, and usually looked for it before I went to bed Christmas Eve. As I lay there wondering why I was awake all of a sudden, I realized that I hadn't even bothered to look for it this year.
Eagerly, I leapt from my bed and peeked through the blinds on my bedroom window, but couldn't discern any stars. Then a thought came to me with surprising strength. Try the front door. Now.
The thought of opening the door to the icy wind outside didn't excite me, but somehow, I felt, I had to find the Christmas star. So I unfastened both locks and swung the door open. Shivering in my nightgown, I scanned the sky until a silvery white dot came into view. The Christmas star! At that moment, I knew that no matter where Linda was, or if he ever returned, God still cared for me.
I stared at the star for a moment, then reached for the door to pull it shut, looking down to the front stoop as I did so. And then I saw him – Linda, thin, shivering, and reeking of gasoline. He sat quietly before me. His green eyes searched mine, as if to say, "I'm sorry. Will you take me back?"
Immediately, I scooped him up. But before I closed the door, I stood with Linda in my arms to gaze once more at the Christmas star. Then I said a prayer of thanks to the God who watches over all His creation – from the most distant star to the purring cat I held closely.
Tuesday, November 05, 2002
Good old Arsenal,
Good old Arsenal,
we're proud to say that name.
And while we sing this song,
we'll win the game.
Who's that team they call the Arsenal?
Who's that team we all adore?
They're the boys in red and white,
And where fucking dynomite,
'cos Georgy Grahams mother is a
whooore,
yeah she's a whore, yeah shes a
whooore
Chim-Chimeny Chim-Chimeny
Chim-Chim-Chero
Who Needs Anelka
When We Got Kanu
Vieira wo o e o, Vieira wo o eo,
he comes from Senengal,
he plays for Arsenal,
Vieira wo o e o, Vieira
He's blond, Hes quick
His names a porno flick,
emmanuel, emmanuel
Eyes bright
skin back tight
bollocks to the front
we're the boys that make more noise
when we're on the cunt
we're the riders of the night
and we rather fuck than fight
we're the riders of the clockend highbury
Hello, hello, we are the Arsenal boys!
Hello, hello, we are the Arsenal boys!
Hello, hello, we are the Arsenal boys!
And if you are a Tottenham Fan,
surrender or you die,
cause we all follow the Arsenal.
Oh teddy teddy,
You went to man utd but you still a
Oh teddy teddy
You may have won the treble
But you still a cunt
One-nil to the Arsenal,
One-nil to the Arsenal,
One-nil to the Arsenal,
One-nil to the Arsenal,
One-nil to the Arsenal!
(repeat)
We`ll win coz we`re Arsenal,
We`ll win coz we`re Arsenal,
We`ll win coz we`re Arsenal,
We`ll win coz we`re Arsenal!
(repeat)
Que sera sera
Que sera sera
what ever will be will be
we`re going to Wemberly
que sera sera.
Go down the field again
Just one more goal
No other team can fight
like the boys in Red and White
Never let their Glory fade
Long may they reign
So let us all give out with
Up the Gunners, Up the Gunners Goal!
Drink, Drink....
Drink, drink, wherever you may be,
We are the drunk and disorderly,
but we don't give a shit, and we don't give a fuck,
Coz we came home with the Cup Winners' Cup!"
Roll out the Arsenal
Roll out the Arsenal
Lets have a barrel of fun
Roll out the Arsenal
We've got them all on the run
Just one more goal now
Then how we all will cheer 1,2,3,4,5,6,7,
The Gang's all here
You are my Arsenal
You are my Arsenal,
My only Arsenal,
You make me happy,
When skies are grey,
You'll never know just,
How much I love you,
So please don't take,
My Arsenal...Away
Na na na na na (ooh)
Na na na na na (ooh ooh)
na na na na na...
Jingle bells, jingle bells,
Jingle all the way;
Santa is an Arsenal fan
And at Highbury today - oh!
Jingle bells, jingle bells,
Jingle all the way;
Oh what fun it is to see
the Arsenal win away
Tiptoe through the NorthBank
Tiptoe through the NorthBank
with your razor and your shawed-off shotgun.
Tiptoe through the NorthBank
with MEEE!
Drink together in praise of the AFC
Fulham can stay at the Cottage
Southampton can stay at the Dell
And as for Tottenham hotspur
They can go to hell, to hell
So we'll drink, drink together
In praise of the AFC
Drink, drink together
In praise of the AFC
We won the league on Merseyside (1989)
We won the league!
We won the league!
We won the league on Merseyside!
We won the league on the Mersey!
We won the league on Merseyside!
We won the league! (1991)
We won the league!
We won the league on Monday Night!
We won the league on the Monday!
We won the league on Monday Night!
We hate Nottingham Forest
We hate Liverpool too
We hate West Ham United
But Arsenal we love you
I go to football on a Saturday
Bow Street on Monday - alright
We're going to Chelsea on Boxing Day
Liverpool have been here - had a fight
She wore a yellow ribbon...
She wore,
She wore,
She wore a yellow ribbon,
She wore a yellow ribbon in the merry month of May,
And when,
I asked,
Oh why she wore that ribbon,
She said its for the Arsenal and we're going to Wembley,
Wembley,
Wembley,
We're the famous Arsenal and we're going Wembley.
By Jesus Said Paddy
By Jesus Said Paddy I sing it so well
I think I'll get up and I'll sing it again
So Paddy got up and he sang it again
Over and Over and over again
Who's that team they call the Arsenal?
Who's that team we all adore?
They're the boys in red and white,
and they fight with all their might,
and they're out to show the world just how to score!"
What we`re gonna do...
What we're gonna do
Is beat the scum,
Then we will show
That we're London's number one.
What we're gonna do
Is beat the scum,
Then we will show
That we're London's number one.
The (wanky) Tottenham Hotspur went to Rome...
The (wanky) Tottenham Hotspur went to Rome to see the pope,
The (wanky) Tottenham Hotspur went to Rome to see the pope,
The (wanky) Tottenham Hotspur went to Rome to see the pope,
and this is what he said - "FUCK OFF!
My old man...
My old man said be a Tottenham fan
But I said fuck off bollocks, you're a cunt, you're a cunt
We'll follow the Arsenal over land and sea
We'll follow the Arsenal unto victory
Away in the manger...
Away in a manger,
no crib for a bed,
the little Lord Jesus
stood up and he said...
WE HATE TOTTENHAM, AND WE HATE TOTTENHAM...
One-Nil down Two-One Up (1987)
One-Nil Down, Two-One Up
We knocked Tottenham out the cup
La la la la la la la
Que sera, sera...
When I was just a little boy
I asked my mother what will I be?
Will I be Arsenal? will I be Spurs?
Here's what she said to me...
Wash your mouth out son,
Go get your father's gun
And shoot the tottenham scum
Que sera, sera...
When I was a little boy
When I was a little boy
My mother bought me a little toy
tottenham fan on a string
Told me to kick his fuckin' head in,
Kick his head in, kick his head in,
She told me to kick his fuckin' head in
Ian Wright my lord,
Ian Wright.
Ian Wright my lord,
Ian Wright.
Ian Wright my lord,
Ian Wright.
Oh lord, Ian Wright!
Ian Wright, Wright, Wright!
Ian Wright, Wright, Wright!
Ian Wright, Wright, Wright!
Ian Wright, Ian Wright,
Ian Ian Wright,
He gets the ball and scores a goal,
Ian Ian Wright!
There are good haircuts
and bad haircuts
but I've never seen a worson
oh he runs all day
and shags all night
Merson the person.
Steve Bould, Steve Bould,
Stevie, Stevie Bould!
He`s got no hair,
but we don`t care.
Stevie, Stevie Bould!
Bergkamp's fuckin magic
He wears a magic hat
And when he saw the Arsenal
He said I fancy that
He didn't sign for Villa
Or Chelsea cause they're shite
He signed for the Arsenal
Cause they're fuckin dynamite.
Only one Dennis Bergkamp,
One Dennis Bergkamp,
Going along, singing a song,
Walking in a Bergkamp wonderland!
Oooh, Georgie Graham`s magic,
he wears a magic hat.
And when he see the cupwinners cup,
he says I`m having that
He's sharp as darts -
His name is Stefan Schwarz,
Stefan Schwarz, Stefan Schwarz...
From foreign parts -
They call him Stefan Schwarz
Stefan Schwarz, Stefan Schwarz...
(He likes his tarts )
(does super Stefan Schwarz, )
(Stefan Schwarz, Stefan Schwarz...)
We've got Brian, Brian Marwood on the wing, on the wing.
We've got Brian, Brian Marwood on the wing, on the wing.
Brian, Brian Marwood, Brian Marwood on the wing
Brian, Brian Marwood, Brian Marwood on the wing
At number 1, it's Perry Groves
At number 2, it's Perry Groves
At number 3, it's Perry Groves
At number 4, it's Perry Groves
At number 5, it's Perry Groves
At number 6, it's Perry Groves
At number 7, it's Perry Groves
At number 8, it's Perry Groves
At number 9, it's Perry Groves
At number 10, it's Perry Groves
At number 11, it's Perry Groves
At number 12, it's Perry Groves
We all live in a Perry Groves world,
a Perry Groves world, a Perry Groves world.
Charlie, Charlie!
Charlie, Charlie!
Born is the king of Highbury.
We've got the biggest Willie in the land,
We've got the biggest Willie in the land,
We've got the biggest Willie in the land.
Sammels, Sammels!
I'd walk a million miles
for one of your goals,
Jon Sammels.
Singing b.e.r.t.i.e
Singing b.e.r.t.i.e
Singing b.e.r.t.i.e. m.e.e.
Bertie Mee!
Roy Keano OOHH EEE OOHH
Roy Keano OOHH EEE OOHH
For fifty thousand quid
He scores for Real Madrid
Roy Keano OOHH EEE OOHH
Roy Keano OOHH EEE OOHH
You're shit, and your ground's a dump,
You're shit, and your ground's a dump,
You're shit, and your ground's a dump,
You're shit, and you got no silverwear.
Good old Arsenal,
we're proud to say that name.
And while we sing this song,
we'll win the game.
Who's that team they call the Arsenal?
Who's that team we all adore?
They're the boys in red and white,
And where fucking dynomite,
'cos Georgy Grahams mother is a
whooore,
yeah she's a whore, yeah shes a
whooore
Chim-Chimeny Chim-Chimeny
Chim-Chim-Chero
Who Needs Anelka
When We Got Kanu
Vieira wo o e o, Vieira wo o eo,
he comes from Senengal,
he plays for Arsenal,
Vieira wo o e o, Vieira
He's blond, Hes quick
His names a porno flick,
emmanuel, emmanuel
Eyes bright
skin back tight
bollocks to the front
we're the boys that make more noise
when we're on the cunt
we're the riders of the night
and we rather fuck than fight
we're the riders of the clockend highbury
Hello, hello, we are the Arsenal boys!
Hello, hello, we are the Arsenal boys!
Hello, hello, we are the Arsenal boys!
And if you are a Tottenham Fan,
surrender or you die,
cause we all follow the Arsenal.
Oh teddy teddy,
You went to man utd but you still a
Oh teddy teddy
You may have won the treble
But you still a cunt
One-nil to the Arsenal,
One-nil to the Arsenal,
One-nil to the Arsenal,
One-nil to the Arsenal,
One-nil to the Arsenal!
(repeat)
We`ll win coz we`re Arsenal,
We`ll win coz we`re Arsenal,
We`ll win coz we`re Arsenal,
We`ll win coz we`re Arsenal!
(repeat)
Que sera sera
Que sera sera
what ever will be will be
we`re going to Wemberly
que sera sera.
Go down the field again
Just one more goal
No other team can fight
like the boys in Red and White
Never let their Glory fade
Long may they reign
So let us all give out with
Up the Gunners, Up the Gunners Goal!
Drink, Drink....
Drink, drink, wherever you may be,
We are the drunk and disorderly,
but we don't give a shit, and we don't give a fuck,
Coz we came home with the Cup Winners' Cup!"
Roll out the Arsenal
Roll out the Arsenal
Lets have a barrel of fun
Roll out the Arsenal
We've got them all on the run
Just one more goal now
Then how we all will cheer 1,2,3,4,5,6,7,
The Gang's all here
You are my Arsenal
You are my Arsenal,
My only Arsenal,
You make me happy,
When skies are grey,
You'll never know just,
How much I love you,
So please don't take,
My Arsenal...Away
Na na na na na (ooh)
Na na na na na (ooh ooh)
na na na na na...
Jingle bells, jingle bells,
Jingle all the way;
Santa is an Arsenal fan
And at Highbury today - oh!
Jingle bells, jingle bells,
Jingle all the way;
Oh what fun it is to see
the Arsenal win away
Tiptoe through the NorthBank
Tiptoe through the NorthBank
with your razor and your shawed-off shotgun.
Tiptoe through the NorthBank
with MEEE!
Drink together in praise of the AFC
Fulham can stay at the Cottage
Southampton can stay at the Dell
And as for Tottenham hotspur
They can go to hell, to hell
So we'll drink, drink together
In praise of the AFC
Drink, drink together
In praise of the AFC
We won the league on Merseyside (1989)
We won the league!
We won the league!
We won the league on Merseyside!
We won the league on the Mersey!
We won the league on Merseyside!
We won the league! (1991)
We won the league!
We won the league on Monday Night!
We won the league on the Monday!
We won the league on Monday Night!
We hate Nottingham Forest
We hate Liverpool too
We hate West Ham United
But Arsenal we love you
I go to football on a Saturday
Bow Street on Monday - alright
We're going to Chelsea on Boxing Day
Liverpool have been here - had a fight
She wore a yellow ribbon...
She wore,
She wore,
She wore a yellow ribbon,
She wore a yellow ribbon in the merry month of May,
And when,
I asked,
Oh why she wore that ribbon,
She said its for the Arsenal and we're going to Wembley,
Wembley,
Wembley,
We're the famous Arsenal and we're going Wembley.
By Jesus Said Paddy
By Jesus Said Paddy I sing it so well
I think I'll get up and I'll sing it again
So Paddy got up and he sang it again
Over and Over and over again
Who's that team they call the Arsenal?
Who's that team we all adore?
They're the boys in red and white,
and they fight with all their might,
and they're out to show the world just how to score!"
What we`re gonna do...
What we're gonna do
Is beat the scum,
Then we will show
That we're London's number one.
What we're gonna do
Is beat the scum,
Then we will show
That we're London's number one.
The (wanky) Tottenham Hotspur went to Rome...
The (wanky) Tottenham Hotspur went to Rome to see the pope,
The (wanky) Tottenham Hotspur went to Rome to see the pope,
The (wanky) Tottenham Hotspur went to Rome to see the pope,
and this is what he said - "FUCK OFF!
My old man...
My old man said be a Tottenham fan
But I said fuck off bollocks, you're a cunt, you're a cunt
We'll follow the Arsenal over land and sea
We'll follow the Arsenal unto victory
Away in the manger...
Away in a manger,
no crib for a bed,
the little Lord Jesus
stood up and he said...
WE HATE TOTTENHAM, AND WE HATE TOTTENHAM...
One-Nil down Two-One Up (1987)
One-Nil Down, Two-One Up
We knocked Tottenham out the cup
La la la la la la la
Que sera, sera...
When I was just a little boy
I asked my mother what will I be?
Will I be Arsenal? will I be Spurs?
Here's what she said to me...
Wash your mouth out son,
Go get your father's gun
And shoot the tottenham scum
Que sera, sera...
When I was a little boy
When I was a little boy
My mother bought me a little toy
tottenham fan on a string
Told me to kick his fuckin' head in,
Kick his head in, kick his head in,
She told me to kick his fuckin' head in
Ian Wright my lord,
Ian Wright.
Ian Wright my lord,
Ian Wright.
Ian Wright my lord,
Ian Wright.
Oh lord, Ian Wright!
Ian Wright, Wright, Wright!
Ian Wright, Wright, Wright!
Ian Wright, Wright, Wright!
Ian Wright, Ian Wright,
Ian Ian Wright,
He gets the ball and scores a goal,
Ian Ian Wright!
There are good haircuts
and bad haircuts
but I've never seen a worson
oh he runs all day
and shags all night
Merson the person.
Steve Bould, Steve Bould,
Stevie, Stevie Bould!
He`s got no hair,
but we don`t care.
Stevie, Stevie Bould!
Bergkamp's fuckin magic
He wears a magic hat
And when he saw the Arsenal
He said I fancy that
He didn't sign for Villa
Or Chelsea cause they're shite
He signed for the Arsenal
Cause they're fuckin dynamite.
Only one Dennis Bergkamp,
One Dennis Bergkamp,
Going along, singing a song,
Walking in a Bergkamp wonderland!
Oooh, Georgie Graham`s magic,
he wears a magic hat.
And when he see the cupwinners cup,
he says I`m having that
He's sharp as darts -
His name is Stefan Schwarz,
Stefan Schwarz, Stefan Schwarz...
From foreign parts -
They call him Stefan Schwarz
Stefan Schwarz, Stefan Schwarz...
(He likes his tarts )
(does super Stefan Schwarz, )
(Stefan Schwarz, Stefan Schwarz...)
We've got Brian, Brian Marwood on the wing, on the wing.
We've got Brian, Brian Marwood on the wing, on the wing.
Brian, Brian Marwood, Brian Marwood on the wing
Brian, Brian Marwood, Brian Marwood on the wing
At number 1, it's Perry Groves
At number 2, it's Perry Groves
At number 3, it's Perry Groves
At number 4, it's Perry Groves
At number 5, it's Perry Groves
At number 6, it's Perry Groves
At number 7, it's Perry Groves
At number 8, it's Perry Groves
At number 9, it's Perry Groves
At number 10, it's Perry Groves
At number 11, it's Perry Groves
At number 12, it's Perry Groves
We all live in a Perry Groves world,
a Perry Groves world, a Perry Groves world.
Charlie, Charlie!
Charlie, Charlie!
Born is the king of Highbury.
We've got the biggest Willie in the land,
We've got the biggest Willie in the land,
We've got the biggest Willie in the land.
Sammels, Sammels!
I'd walk a million miles
for one of your goals,
Jon Sammels.
Singing b.e.r.t.i.e
Singing b.e.r.t.i.e
Singing b.e.r.t.i.e. m.e.e.
Bertie Mee!
Roy Keano OOHH EEE OOHH
Roy Keano OOHH EEE OOHH
For fifty thousand quid
He scores for Real Madrid
Roy Keano OOHH EEE OOHH
Roy Keano OOHH EEE OOHH
You're shit, and your ground's a dump,
You're shit, and your ground's a dump,
You're shit, and your ground's a dump,
You're shit, and you got no silverwear.
Sunday, October 27, 2002
Rich with tribal cultures, a diverse terrain, and wild animal life, Mozambique is described as Africa's hidden jewel. Join a team of conservationists from the World Wildlife Fund as they help establish new national parks in the country, while battling illegal fishing and watching for rampaging wildlife. Learn about the animals of the region, including elephants, wild dogs, whales, dolphins, and dugongs -- sea cows that are related to manatees. Watch video of coconut crabs and whale sharks, then read the expedition's daily dispatches about everything from community development to beekeeping to "no-go" zones. Ask the scientists about relations between environmentalists and locals and how the new parks came into existence. Finally, get the big picture with maps of the region. It's a fascinating safari and important environmental lesson, mozambique/
Sunday, October 20, 2002
Tuesday, October 01, 2002
Tuesday, August 20, 2002
The Power of Holding Hands
By Rabbi Harold Kushner
I was sitting on a beach one summer day, watching two children, a boy and a girl, playing in the sand. They were hard at work building an elaborate sandcastle by the water's edge, with gates and towers and moats and internal passages. Just when they had nearly finished their project, a big wave came along and knocked it down, reducing it to a heap of wet sand. I expected the children to burst into tears, devastated by what had happened to all their hard work. But they surprised me. Instead, they ran up the shore away from the water, laughing and holding hands, and sat down to build another castle. I realized that they had taught me an important lesson. All the things in our lives, all the complicated structures we spent so much time and energy creating, are built on sand. Only our relationships to other people endure. Sooner or later, the wave will come along and knock down what we have worked so hard to build up. When that happens, only the person who has somebody's hand to hold will be able to laugh.
By Rabbi Harold Kushner
I was sitting on a beach one summer day, watching two children, a boy and a girl, playing in the sand. They were hard at work building an elaborate sandcastle by the water's edge, with gates and towers and moats and internal passages. Just when they had nearly finished their project, a big wave came along and knocked it down, reducing it to a heap of wet sand. I expected the children to burst into tears, devastated by what had happened to all their hard work. But they surprised me. Instead, they ran up the shore away from the water, laughing and holding hands, and sat down to build another castle. I realized that they had taught me an important lesson. All the things in our lives, all the complicated structures we spent so much time and energy creating, are built on sand. Only our relationships to other people endure. Sooner or later, the wave will come along and knock down what we have worked so hard to build up. When that happens, only the person who has somebody's hand to hold will be able to laugh.
Sunday, August 11, 2002
Ep: 27
Wednesday, July 24, 2002 22:30:00
Daoming Si and Shancai realise Daoming Feng has started on her plan to break them up. Before being kidnapped by her men, Daoming Si gives Meizuo a call. Ximen and Meizuo are not allowed to see Daoming Si. As they turn to leave the Daoming residence, Yu-sao shows them an invitation card to Daoming Si and Xiaozi's wedding. Huaze Lei returns to help Shancai. Xiaozi tels them her parents are forcing her into the marriage because of their business. Daoming Si goes on a hunger strike and has to be put on an intravenous drip. When Huaze Lei's attempt to save him fails, the guys ask Daoming Zhuang for help. However, it is Xiaozi who gets Daomig Feng's permission for Shancai to see Daoming Si. Eventually, Daoming Feng comes to her senses and calls off the wedding. Shancai finally tells Daoming Si she loves him.
Wednesday, July 24, 2002 22:30:00
Daoming Si and Shancai realise Daoming Feng has started on her plan to break them up. Before being kidnapped by her men, Daoming Si gives Meizuo a call. Ximen and Meizuo are not allowed to see Daoming Si. As they turn to leave the Daoming residence, Yu-sao shows them an invitation card to Daoming Si and Xiaozi's wedding. Huaze Lei returns to help Shancai. Xiaozi tels them her parents are forcing her into the marriage because of their business. Daoming Si goes on a hunger strike and has to be put on an intravenous drip. When Huaze Lei's attempt to save him fails, the guys ask Daoming Zhuang for help. However, it is Xiaozi who gets Daomig Feng's permission for Shancai to see Daoming Si. Eventually, Daoming Feng comes to her senses and calls off the wedding. Shancai finally tells Daoming Si she loves him.
Ep: 26
Tuesday, July 23, 2002 22:30:00
Shancai calls Daoming Si for help when a thief barges into her house. The police tell them that there has been a spate of burglaries in the neighbourhood. Xiaoyou waits outside Ximen's house and leaves her phone number. Shancai is moved when Daoming Si rents her nieghbour's house for a large sum, so that he can protect her. Ximen turns up at the hotel room and learns that Xiaoyou is migrating with her family and wishes to spend the night with him. He reminisces about the times he spent with her and resolves to make amends. When Daoming Feng learns about her son's renewed relationship with Shancai, she terminats his credit cards.
Tuesday, July 23, 2002 22:30:00
Shancai calls Daoming Si for help when a thief barges into her house. The police tell them that there has been a spate of burglaries in the neighbourhood. Xiaoyou waits outside Ximen's house and leaves her phone number. Shancai is moved when Daoming Si rents her nieghbour's house for a large sum, so that he can protect her. Ximen turns up at the hotel room and learns that Xiaoyou is migrating with her family and wishes to spend the night with him. He reminisces about the times he spent with her and resolves to make amends. When Daoming Feng learns about her son's renewed relationship with Shancai, she terminats his credit cards.
Episodic Synopsis
Ep: 25
Monday, July 22, 2002 22:30:00
Yamen stays with Shancai the entire night and tells her love does not endure forever. She believes him, and refuses to take Daoming Si's calls. The next day, she is nearly molested by Yamen. Shancai sees Daoming Si with Xiaozi, but does not realise he has told Xiaozi that he would never love her. Daoming Si confronts Yamen at the bar and threatens him. Yamen apologises to Shancai and urges to give him a chance to start life anew with her. Qinghe sees them together and tips Daoming Si off. Daoming Si rushes after them. Moved, Shancai finally returns to him. He agrees to keep their relationship a secret, in case Daoming Feng objects again
Ep: 25
Monday, July 22, 2002 22:30:00
Yamen stays with Shancai the entire night and tells her love does not endure forever. She believes him, and refuses to take Daoming Si's calls. The next day, she is nearly molested by Yamen. Shancai sees Daoming Si with Xiaozi, but does not realise he has told Xiaozi that he would never love her. Daoming Si confronts Yamen at the bar and threatens him. Yamen apologises to Shancai and urges to give him a chance to start life anew with her. Qinghe sees them together and tips Daoming Si off. Daoming Si rushes after them. Moved, Shancai finally returns to him. He agrees to keep their relationship a secret, in case Daoming Feng objects again
Ep: 24
Wednesday, July 17, 2002 22:30:00
Qingyong approaches Shancai when she is on her way home and apologises. He buys supper and tells her he dislikes Daoming Si, but developed feelings for her when he saw how persistent she was about love. He leaves when Daoming Si and Ximen turn up. At Qingyong's house, Daoming Si beats up his cousin and discovers 'Qingyong' who has been wooing Shancai is an imposter. 'Qingyong' shows up and admits Daoming Feng had given him money to break Daoming Si and Shancai up. At the airport, he tells Shancai his real name is Yamen. He is a prt-time research student.
Wednesday, July 17, 2002 22:30:00
Qingyong approaches Shancai when she is on her way home and apologises. He buys supper and tells her he dislikes Daoming Si, but developed feelings for her when he saw how persistent she was about love. He leaves when Daoming Si and Ximen turn up. At Qingyong's house, Daoming Si beats up his cousin and discovers 'Qingyong' who has been wooing Shancai is an imposter. 'Qingyong' shows up and admits Daoming Feng had given him money to break Daoming Si and Shancai up. At the airport, he tells Shancai his real name is Yamen. He is a prt-time research student.
Friday, July 12, 2002
Ep: 24
Wednesday, July 17, 2002 22:30:00
Qingyong approaches Shancai when she is on her way home and apologises. He buys supper and tells her he dislikes Daoming Si, but developed feelings for her when he saw how persistent she was about love. He leaves when Daoming Si and Ximen turn up. At Qingyong's house, Daoming Si beats up his cousin and discovers 'Qingyong' who has been wooing Shancai is an imposter. 'Qingyong' shows up and admits Daoming Feng had given him money to break Daoming Si and Shancai up. At the airport, he tells Shancai his real name is Yamen. He is a prt-time research student.
Wednesday, July 17, 2002 22:30:00
Qingyong approaches Shancai when she is on her way home and apologises. He buys supper and tells her he dislikes Daoming Si, but developed feelings for her when he saw how persistent she was about love. He leaves when Daoming Si and Ximen turn up. At Qingyong's house, Daoming Si beats up his cousin and discovers 'Qingyong' who has been wooing Shancai is an imposter. 'Qingyong' shows up and admits Daoming Feng had given him money to break Daoming Si and Shancai up. At the airport, he tells Shancai his real name is Yamen. He is a prt-time research student.
Ep: 23
Tuesday, July 16, 2002 22:30:00
Ximen and Meizuo are shocked when Daoming Si breaks down in tears after a few drinks. Huaze Lei urges them to convince Daoming Si not to deceive himself about his feelings for Shancai. Huaze Lei walks Shancai home after she finishes work at the cake shop and tells her he merely regards her as a good friend.
Tuesday, July 16, 2002 22:30:00
Ximen and Meizuo are shocked when Daoming Si breaks down in tears after a few drinks. Huaze Lei urges them to convince Daoming Si not to deceive himself about his feelings for Shancai. Huaze Lei walks Shancai home after she finishes work at the cake shop and tells her he merely regards her as a good friend.
Ep: 22
Monday, July 15, 2002 22:30:00
Song tells Shancai that he waits by the beach eveyday for his girlfriend, who left him because of his devotion to the arts. He also tells her a TV station crew will be visting the fishing village soon. Qinghe sees Shancai on TV and informs Ximen. Daoming Si remains nonchalant when told of her whereabouts. The villagers refuse to believe Shancai has a rich boyfriend. They force her parents to repay their debts. When Shancai's parents insist on calling Daoming Si, she finally tells them about the break-up. The next day, Huaze Lei comes to Shancai's rescue. He repays her debts and takes her back to Taipei, where he rents for her a place.
Monday, July 15, 2002 22:30:00
Song tells Shancai that he waits by the beach eveyday for his girlfriend, who left him because of his devotion to the arts. He also tells her a TV station crew will be visting the fishing village soon. Qinghe sees Shancai on TV and informs Ximen. Daoming Si remains nonchalant when told of her whereabouts. The villagers refuse to believe Shancai has a rich boyfriend. They force her parents to repay their debts. When Shancai's parents insist on calling Daoming Si, she finally tells them about the break-up. The next day, Huaze Lei comes to Shancai's rescue. He repays her debts and takes her back to Taipei, where he rents for her a place.
Ep: 21
Wednesday, July 10, 2002 22:30:00
Huaze Lei and Yu-sao collaborate to find out why Shancai has run away. Xiaoyou and Qinghe are afraid to tell the others the truth. Shancai goes to the village to join her parents. She prevents her father from pawning the necklace Daoming Si gave her, but does not tell them about their breakup. Ximen and the others see Daoming Si throwing a cake at a girl who is interested in him. Qinghe tries in vain to contact Shancai. At a beach, Shancai is harrassed by a young man who is drunk. A depressed Daoming Si goes drinking. Qinghe saves him from being knocked down by a vehicle. Shancai gets a job at a cafe by the beach and meets the young man, Song again. He is depressed over a failed relationship with Xiang. Being in the same predicament, he and Shancai soon become friends. Ximen and the others get Yuanzi to help them console Daoming Si. When he refuses to pull himslef together, Ximen loses control and beats him up. Shancai is disappointed Daming Si is not bothered to call her on her cellphone. Huaze Lei tells Ximen to find out the truth from Xiaoyou.
Wednesday, July 10, 2002 22:30:00
Huaze Lei and Yu-sao collaborate to find out why Shancai has run away. Xiaoyou and Qinghe are afraid to tell the others the truth. Shancai goes to the village to join her parents. She prevents her father from pawning the necklace Daoming Si gave her, but does not tell them about their breakup. Ximen and the others see Daoming Si throwing a cake at a girl who is interested in him. Qinghe tries in vain to contact Shancai. At a beach, Shancai is harrassed by a young man who is drunk. A depressed Daoming Si goes drinking. Qinghe saves him from being knocked down by a vehicle. Shancai gets a job at a cafe by the beach and meets the young man, Song again. He is depressed over a failed relationship with Xiang. Being in the same predicament, he and Shancai soon become friends. Ximen and the others get Yuanzi to help them console Daoming Si. When he refuses to pull himslef together, Ximen loses control and beats him up. Shancai is disappointed Daming Si is not bothered to call her on her cellphone. Huaze Lei tells Ximen to find out the truth from Xiaoyou.
Ep: 20
Tuesday, July 9, 2002 22:30:00
Shancai and Xiaoyou are spared Daoming Feng's insults, having left before her arrival. Back home, Daoming Feng is taken aback to learn that Yu-sao has assigned Shancai to be Daoming Si's personal assistant. Yu-sao threatens to kill herself if Shancai is thrown out of the house. Yu-sao tells Shancai that she supports her relationship with Daoming Si, as he has become a better person ever since knowing her. She suggests Shancai bears Daoming Si a baby! Daoming Feng quarrels with her son over Shancai again. The other members of F4 suggest Daoming Si leave home with Shancai. Shancai objects. Daoming Feng schemes to get rid of Shancai. This time, she targets those closest to Shancai - her family and friends. Daoming Feng causes Xiaoyou's father to be demoted and Qinghe's father to go into debt when the bank turns down his loan application. Shancai agrees to sever ties with Daoming Si if Daoming Feng promises to stop harassing her friends and their families. Daoming Si is crestfallen when Shancai leaves after telling him she has never loved him.
Tuesday, July 9, 2002 22:30:00
Shancai and Xiaoyou are spared Daoming Feng's insults, having left before her arrival. Back home, Daoming Feng is taken aback to learn that Yu-sao has assigned Shancai to be Daoming Si's personal assistant. Yu-sao threatens to kill herself if Shancai is thrown out of the house. Yu-sao tells Shancai that she supports her relationship with Daoming Si, as he has become a better person ever since knowing her. She suggests Shancai bears Daoming Si a baby! Daoming Feng quarrels with her son over Shancai again. The other members of F4 suggest Daoming Si leave home with Shancai. Shancai objects. Daoming Feng schemes to get rid of Shancai. This time, she targets those closest to Shancai - her family and friends. Daoming Feng causes Xiaoyou's father to be demoted and Qinghe's father to go into debt when the bank turns down his loan application. Shancai agrees to sever ties with Daoming Si if Daoming Feng promises to stop harassing her friends and their families. Daoming Si is crestfallen when Shancai leaves after telling him she has never loved him.
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