The NBA playoffs are underway. As a homage, I will pick out celebrity look-alikes from the 16 teams that made it. Enjoy.

Luis Scola looks like wrestler Razor Ramon

Joakim Noah looks like American Idol contestant Sanjaya Malakar

Pat Riley looks like actor Michael Douglas

Stan Van Gundy looks like porn legend Ron Jeremy

Rodney Stuckey looks like rapper 50 Cent

Rajon Rondo looks like rapper Lil' Bow Wow

Chris Andersen looks like actor Willem Dafoe

Anderson Varejao looks like actor Adrian Grenier

Zydrunas Ilgauskas looks like Powder from the 1995 film of the same name

Andrei Kirilenko looks like Ivan Drago from Rocky

Mike Bibby looks like Mini-Me

Andre Iguodala looks like Shrek

Peja Stojakovic looks like actor David Schwimmer

Pau Gasol looks like actor Tom Green

Dirk Nowitzki looks like talk show host Ellen DeGeneres

* Sunday afternoon

Blah blah guy: Hello, is this _____?
Me: Yes.
Blah: This is blah blah from Fitness First, we would like to invite you for a trial workout.
* Some background info, the company I work for gives gym benefits to employees. They weren't calling me because they heard I've had one too many Snickers bars.

Now I've been doing martial arts for a few years now, the reason I haven't used my gym privileges was because I was already pursuing my aspirations of being a punching bag in an MMA gym. But since he said the magic word--jacuzzi--I thought I'd at least give it a try.

Me: You guys have boxing at least?
Blah: Yeah, there's "BODY COMBAT," it's a combination of kickboxing and tai chi.
* At this point, I was sold. I get to fight and soak in a tub: hell yeah!

So imagine my surprise when I saw what "BODY COMBAT" really was. Let me put it this way, if martial arts had a gay brother, "BODY COMBAT" would be the offspring that it makes with its life partner through cloning. Liberace would probably get a hard-on from it. I was watching incredulously as the recruitment chick urged me to join the class, which was already in progress when I got there. I was out of there soon as I heard "No, No, No, No--No, No There's No Limit" and intermittent outbursts of "Wooh!"

So please, if you want to learn how to fight, go to a boxing gym or whatnot. If not, at least practice playing dead.

I turned on the TV yesterday and chanced upon a judo match between the Netherlands and China at the 2008 Olympic Games in Beijing. I instantly got confused. Do they have mixed-gender competitions at the Olympics now? Why is the Dutch girl going up against a Chinese dude?

Lizz told me that the Chinese judoka is a woman, but I found that hard to believe. I mean, look at him/her.

Chinese judoka Xu Yan, allegedly female

Of course, just like effeminate male pop stars, manly female athletes are a dime a dozen. I think that, aside from the strict drug tests, Olympic officials should also do penis checks for athletes that claim to be female. It's not that hard (har har)--just pull their pants down and look.

In fairness, maybe Xu Yan really is a woman, and she only looks so macho because of excessive use of steroids. If that's the case, she should be careful to not turn into a man like East German athlete Heidi Krieger did.

Anyway, I have an idea. Why don't we have all athletes compete totally naked like they did in the original Olympics in ancient Greece? That would clear up most gender ambiguity problems. As a bonus, steroid abusers can be easily identified by their funny shrunken testicles.

Taking away clothes and shoes also has the added benefit of making the competition a lot fairer. At the highest level of athletics, contests are routinely won and lost by mere milliseconds. Shouldn't those milliseconds be decided by athletic ability and not by the quality of shoes or aerodynamic suits?

And besides, nudity would make women's gymnastics even more fun to watch. Yay.

I have a new second favorite sport.

I tried flag football last Saturday, and I liked it a lot. No no no, it's not a kind of soccer. Are you kidding me? Soccer sucks. Flag football is just like American football but without the painful tackles and the resulting concussions. In short, it's football for wimps.

If you live in Metro Manila, come play with us every Saturday afternoon at the Corinthian Gardens football field. It's free and open to people of all ages and genders. (That's what they say, so I guess theoretically, you can bring your grandma, but... please don't.) We start at 2:30 PM. You don't have to know anything about football. Just come on time and the coach will teach you the basics.

UPDATE: We move to a backup field (a vacant lot near the EDSA gate) whenever the main field is occupied by stupid soccer players. It's probably a good idea to get in touch with me ahead of time so that I can send you last-minute announcements.

ANOTHER UPDATE: We don't play anymore :-(

As much as you thought it would, this entry isn't about joyfulchicken.

Finally, I get around to writing one of these. I'm guessing it's been more than a year since I wrote an entry, which I think is a record for procrastination, even for this lazy-ass site.

Anyway, I was going home from a gig one night when I heard a commotion up the street a short distance from the bar we played at. Being the dumbass that I am, and since I was still within sight of a few friends, I kept walking along. Surrounded by a rowdy group of hip hop-looking teens were two short shorts-wearing gay guys engaged in a hair-tearing fight. It was like watching a UFC fight, only with more hair and nipple-twisting. Now, I'm a peace-loving guy. The "Make Love, Not War" sticker I have on my notebook would attest to that. But I don't know what the proper social etiquette is for such a situation. Obviously, I wouldn't want to get in the middle of things, lest I get in the way of a wayward bitchslap.

Seeing as the situation was like a William Hung recital (you'd like to end it but you can't), I decided to let the fight fan in me prevail. That was entertainment boxing, pro wrestling and mixed martial arts can't provide. How often do you see a fighter eat a slap to the face while trying to keep his thin, old-school NBA-length shorts from falling off? By the way, he wasn't successful at keeping it on.

Just wanted to impart a great mental image. Why should I be the only one to suffer?

Shocking news: soccer star David Beckham is moving to the USA! He has signed a five-year $250M contract with Major League Soccer's Los Angeles Galaxy. The news brought overwhelming joy to American soccer fans--all twenty of them.

Seriously, I didn't even know that there's a "Major League Soccer" in the US. Are you telling me that there are enough soccer fans in that country to make a major league commercially viable? In a world crazy for soccer, the US and the Philippines are supposed to be beacons of reason and light. Has our American brothers gone over to the dark (and boring) side? I'm scared.

And the 250 million dollars... that's a huge truckload of money. The Chicago Bulls didn't pay Michael Jordan half as much for all the years he won championships for them. So why would a soccer team from a country that doesn't care much about soccer pay such an insane amount for an aging footballer with a history of injuries? $250M? Does the LA Galaxy even have 250 fans? OK, I'm being stupid. Of course they do. There's a huge market of futbol-loving Mexican immigrants in LA. But still, $250M?

So why did Beckham agree to the deal? Duh. I can give you 250,000,000 reasons. Wait, make that 250,000,001 reasons. According to him, his buddy Tom Cruise helped convince him to make the move to Hollywood. "... I asked him for his advice because he is a very wise man," Beckham said.

Really? Tom Cruise? A wise man? A very wise man? Come on! Beckham is a fool. If he keeps taking advice from Tom Cruise, we might soon see him convert to Scientology, divorce Posh Spice, and jump like a baboon on Oprah's couch while declaring his undying love for Hilary Duff. Well, at least he'll still have the 250 godzillion dollars.

He can just take the money and spend it like Beckham.

I'm sure that many of you watched Manny Pacquiao's impressive victory over Erik Morales (if you missed it, watch the final round on YouTube).

But did you see how Pacquiao was ruthlessly attacked after the fight was over? He was getting his victory ride, when suddenly, out of nowhere....

OK, so it's just someone from his corner trying to remove his mouthguard. But dude, seriously, can't you at least wait until the victory ride is over? Thanks for ruining his picture-perfect moment of glory, jackass.

I'm leaning to the left as I'm typing this. In fact, I've been leaning to the left pretty much all day. Why? Because the right side of my butt is sore... very sore.

Late in the 3rd quarter of our basketball game yesterday, I was the first one back on defense during a 2-on-1 fastbreak by the other team. 2-on-1s are hard to defend against, and I'm not a good defensive player by any stretch of the imagination, so I knew I had to do the smart thing and commit a foul. But before I could get to the guy with the ball, he lobbed a pass to the other guy, who was right near the basket.

As I turned around, a brilliant (OK, really stupid) idea popped into my head. Hmm, that guy is fat. I bet he can't jump too high. I think I can jump high enough to block his shot! Unfortunately, I jumped too early... way before he went up for the shot. Uh-oh. I tried to avoid body contact, but my left leg bumped into his body. I spun around in midair and landed flat on my back. Ouch. On the concrete floor. Ouch ouch ouch.

I don't clearly remember what happened next. I think the referee blew the whistle and called a foul on me... I think. I was in quite a bit of pain. Next thing I know, players from both teams were hovering above me, asking me if I was OK. I decided that I was after lying there dazed for a few moments. A teammate pulled me up, and I limped to the bench.

Within minutes, the pain from the initial impact was gone. I stretched and jumped around... no pain. Yay adrenaline! So I played a bit more and went home. I felt perfectly fine... until I woke up this morning with a sore right hip. Since I lead a sedentary lifestyle, the sore hip really bothers me.

Oh well, it could have been worse. I could have bounced my head on the concrete and cracked my skull open like a watermelon. So I guess I'm still lucky.

Come to think of it, I've been lucky all my life. Unlike some of my less-fortunate friends, I've never been seriously injured while playing basketball. I do get frequent bruises and scratches, plus the occasional cut lip or black eye, but never anything major. No fractures. No torn ligaments. Not even an ankle sprain.

I know that my luck will probably run out sooner or later. But I think I'll keep playing, because I enjoy the game, even though it can sometimes be literally a pain in the ass.

So much for the best school! Sorry blue chicks. I hate to see your pretty faces cry, but what can we do? That's the way the game is played.

I remember hearing a wise man say something like "the problem with luck is that it runs out." And run out it did... took you far enough though.

If you're still unsure as to what I'm referring to, of course I'm talking about Ateneo losing the UAAP crown to UST. The blue eagle rendered flightless by the golden tiger's roar.

All that with Evangelista and Cruz fouled out. What's up with JC crying? Come on big guy, suck it up! I'm referring to Intal of course--although I can't be absolutely certain joyfulchicken didn't cry. After all, he did put his money where his beak was. Hey! Maybe just this week you can sport the nick tearfuleagle.

Now, I remember guilo promising to blog about game 2. Since I doubt he'll ever come around to it, I took the liberty. Since I'm no sports writer, and I don't pretend to be one, I'll just leave you with this link to gloat over the wounded eagle.

Extra! Extra! Read all about it!

Last Sunday's Game 1 of the UAAP Finals had the best finish that I've ever seen in a Philippine college basketball game.

It made me very happy. I'm not sure if philos feels the same way though, hehe.