Kung Fu Panda

The steam-potonging Pyo who went to fill her tummy tank with 3 donuts and I went to Isthmus, North Point, where we were both invited to a free dinner before she left to Japan. My mouth was wide-open and I was thrilled.

And my tummy was empty.


Pyo very clever. She ordered Mushroom Salad first


And I ordered this Mango Kerabu thing.

Not a fan of unripe mangoes.


Thai Basil Pesto Penne

The good thing about having a friend there? EXTRA CHEESE ON DEMAND!

Then Hana came along and ordered the same thing with Fettucine. Ate her dinner and proceeded to go back to work. Damn kesian. So we mourned for her and watched Kung Fu Panda on her behalf!



First of all, like all other Jack Black movies, he's not funny. He's not funny. He's not funny. He's not funny. He's not funny. He's so not fucking funny.

And I will repeat that as many times as humanly possible.

At least, in Kung Fu Panda, his face wasn't plastered over every other scene. But his voice. His voice is disturbing. His voice shatters the illusion that he's not involved in the movie. As if that makes sense.

And his only kung fu is one that crushes the concrete floor with half a fart. He cannot seriously be a villain-fighting ass-kicking kung fu prodigy. Seriously.

I don't see why everyone around me is raving incessantly about how it's so funny either. It's not even witty funny like Wallace & Gromit: Curse of the Were-rabbit. Everything is so cliche. Unlikely hero saves the universe bla bla bla, becomes the star. Yadda yadda ratta-tat-tat shitty-shit-shit quackadee-quack. Villain defeated, hero celebrated, Mexicans waved.

Whatever. I'd rather be listening Angelina Jolie and Lucy Liu's lines. Hmph.

And yes, I did sleep through some of it. Really, it's not THAT funny.