Saturday, July 31, 2004
Zouk and Wine Bar at the behest of SM. Very bored. Very sheer. Thursday's 'Do you even have a life' query must've struck a raw nerve. I've been thinking about this a fair bit. But I think I shall remain in denial for a bit more. There is life outside of work. Heck, I don't even write about work. Not that I hate work, but it's just not prudent to talk about work. At Wine Bar, me and SM had a jug of vodka red bull each, chewing the fat, and getting chatted up by Foreign Men. Not good at all. (Hey, buddy, what's that you're drinking? Is it good?) As bad as the time a few years ago when a Foreign Woman whispered in my ear, 'Hey mate, you know, I'm gay, but I fantasize about having sex with gay men.... d'ya live 'round here?' I still haven't brought myself to call my cousin to convey my condolences. My rellies in Seremban are a weird bunch. Every year there's a death in the family in strange circumstances. Uncle Eddie starved to death last year, and now Auntie Dunnowhatshername collapses in the toilet and no one notices for six hours or till someone else wants to use the loo or something. Yes, I need a break. I need a holiday. But work's scheduled till end of November, and I have compassionate leave slated for October, for when I travel to Hong Kong to hand over the ex to her new husband. And when work finishes at the end of November, there's reservist, which I normally would look forward to, but because it's taking up two weeks of holiday time, I'm not. I've already slated a trip to a tropical paradise with my one true love. She's flying here to meet up before we up and leave again and laze away Christmas at a villa or something. Mmmmm nice. Some days you just wanna cut something up bad
Friday, July 30, 2004
MX-5 1, Mynah 0
local and had more drinks than usual, for reasons unbeknownst to ourselves. In between drinks, I messaged the ex in Hong Kong a birthday greeting, and mulled over where I was in life. This spell of introspection thankfully lasted only till the next drink. Me and the boys drank, ate chicken wings, hotdogs and drank some more. And we laughed a lot. One of those pub meetings where you laugh a lot, then you go home and think hey, that was fun, but you can't remember what you laughed about. JH did cause a pause when he told us about his 'seriously weird' afternoon with his car. He was driving his Miata down a leafy stretch and a mynah flew very close across and past his windscreen, and before he could marvel at the sight, that mynah's companion mynah couldn't quite fly clear of his windscreen, and clipped it's legs on his windscreen, causing it to hurtle low across the road much like an Imperial Tie-Fighter after being hit by an X-wing's laser cannons. For some reason, JH was very disturbed by the event. We pushed another drink his way. Then we asked what his car number was, so we could go buy Four-D. Imperial Tie-Fighter, Sienar Fleet Systems' Twin Ion Engine Craft. Common (Indian) Mynah, Acridotheres tristis
Thursday, July 29, 2004
Super Senior Minister
iTunes' party shuffle is playing: So Far Away - Rod Stewart - Tapestry Revisited: A Tribute to Carole KingSomeone asked me, so, do you have a life outside of work? Do you have friends? I wanted to say, course I do, go read my blog, so many things happen to me, I don't have enough time to write them down. But I didn't. But really, I am so happening I spend only fifteen minutes at dinner with the family. And today was no different. Everyone at home's still recovering from the dastardly flu, and between residual coughs and mouthfuls of food (we had pork ribs, tofu, kailan and pork soup), we speculated on what LKY's new title would be. I offered "PMF", for Prime Minister's Father. Lee Kuan Yew, MP, PMF. Like The Queen Mother. Thought of fondly, sometimes revered, and expected to say odd things once awhile that might embarrass the family. My father laughed and choked on his soup and coughed and coughed till I got worried. HM Queen Elizabeth The Queen Mother. 1900-2002.
Wednesday, July 28, 2004
|The wife has a friend who's pretty nifty with the camera. That is, she composes pictures well. A good photoblog is like a good blog. The content should evoke emotion. Make you yearn for something more. Her pictures do that. Check back regularly, cos I'm gonna keep bugging her to put up her pittures. Another good photoblog recently begun is Cour Marly's photoblog, and another of my favourites is Kissui.net. Sinophiles like me can look to Leylop and her wonderful photojournal and blog. She's left Hangzhou and is about to embark on an extensive trip, so check back and check out her fantastic photos. There are so many things, so little time to document them. I encourage everyone with a digital camera to carry it along with you everywhere you go. Snap away at anything grand or ordinary. Make your blog your window on the world and let the rest of us enjoy. While on this topic, if you prefer your digital pictures to be paperised, look no further than Hotprint. They're very good at printing digital photos, and I know for a fact that they're the bestest photoshop exponents in the land. You should see my driver's licence photo. Slimmer and not a zit in sight.|| |
Originally uploaded by ninja mewmew.
Tuesday, July 27, 2004
Sad Song say so much but forget everything
Steph Song calls again asking what I'm up to and I tell her I'm working. She says why are you always working when I call. I say because I need money for food, fuel and women. Steph Song forgets the last two sentences I've said and says, hey are you free for coffee or lunch now, and I get annoyed and say I am working. She says you are always working you must have a lot of money now. Steph Song says she's been busy too, working and getting contacts from her Canadic agent in Canadia, and is shortlisted for some Van Damm movie to be made there. I say hey I didn't know Jean Claude Damn Dumb still made movies. In Canadia some more. My ABC magnet is working strong today because I later bump into Jimmy at the Village. Jimmy is Japanese American, so technically he's not ABC. Mentally, he's not Jap-American either. He raps, hips and hops and breaks dances and talks the street talk like he's some brother with the slanty eyes. But anyway, he's foreign. Jimmy says he's been suddenly busy with several callbacks, and may get a gig to go to Beijing which he says, man, he'll take it, cos things have been lean, bro. I say to him, James, my man, take everything that comes, bro. He says yeah man, I been teaching kung fu and shit, and I'm like ok with it as long as they don't make me explain shit, bro. I say ha ha, that's right bro, what about CJ (ABC), he's gotta dress in drag for that play? Yeah man, I saw the poster, and I called him and I said Bro, you is one argly woman, maaaan! Sometimes Miss Song gives me the finger.
Monday, July 26, 2004
Mouse Man missed us and decided to pick a fight with a gym instructor. Too bad we weren't there. Would've been fun. I ate, she talked.
Sunday, July 25, 2004
Sleeping in a wakeful way
Saturday, July 24, 2004
Delirious with Fever, brother of Dances with Wolves, cousin of Smell like Buffalo Behind
holding hands laughing, looking up at the sky making out shapes from fluffy clouds. But I wasn't feeling well, and I was running a pretty mean temperature. Rest up, she said. But I miss you, I said. I miss you too. But shoo, go and sleep, she said. But I want to dance with you, I said. I can teach you. It's ok if you step on my toes, I said. Cos you're pretty light, I said. Shoo, go and sleep. Could you stand a little closer, girl?
Friday, July 23, 2004
The things that give our lives meaning
LMD and asked if she was free for drinks this evening, but she wasn't. So I met up with some uni mates I hadn't seen for awhile, thinking they might be organising some surprise birthday drinks thing in my honour. Turns out they didn't know it was my birthday, so I ordered a cup of tea. Just as well, because I am sick and really shouldn't have been drinking anyway. Turns out they had organised this get together because a uni mate of ours is getting married in October, and they want to organize a Hen's Night thing for her. One of the well-meaning uni mates takes out pen and paper and starts to write down what we have to do for Hen's Night. They are truly excited at putting this list together. Oh, hahaha, we must get a stripper. You know any? So, anyway, a good hour after cracking their brains, they come up with: 1. Male stripper. One of them offers a contact for a former stripper who can play the harp, so we dress him up as an angel. So fun. 2. Alcohol. Let's get her drunk before the stripper comes. 3. Alcohol. Let's have champagne before dinner. 4. Costumes. Let's all dress like devils, so we can counter the angel stripper. So fun. 5. Special T-shirt for the bride-to-be with caption: My name is XXXXXX. This is my last night out as a single woman. Please call me at XXX-XXX-XXXX (Fiance's number). (This one was my contribution). 6. Penis-shaped cake. So fun. Because at another Hen's Night they had this, and it was so fun. Oh, the headache of logistics, one of my uni mates says. Lucky she has had some experience recently organising an event, she also says. OK, she says, do you know how much a stripper charges? Any difference between full and half monty, she asks. OK, she says, how about the penis cake? How much? Was the last one nice to eat, she asks. Dunno, dunno, dunno. Let's meet again and discuss this further. So fun. Penis shaped cake? Tee hee hee. So fun!
Thursday, July 22, 2004
wifey. Now we have matching phone covers on matching phones. Thank you wifey again! I also received a birthday card from a junior college form teacher of mine. She never forgets my birthday. About five years ago, she came and visited me in Sydney and stayed with me for a week. It was quite surreal. I couldn't stop addressing her as Miss Toh, even though she was conversing with me in Mandarin and Hokkien. She taught me GP and History, so it just sounded so wrong for her to speak in anything other than English. Miss Toh is a lovely, lovely woman who tolerated me when she shouldn't have, but she did kick me in the backside at crucial moments. So it was quite a humbling moment when I realised she had come to Sydney to get away from mad things back home, and to ask me for guidance. Please lah, Miss Toh, that is so wrong! You used to kick me out of class, and now you want me to advise you? I hope she's keeping well. I'm gonna call her tomorrow. She's gonna wanna know what's up with me, whether I'm nicely settled down yet. I'm gonna tell her about my wifey, my angels, and all the good stuff they've done for me. Oh yah. And I'm gonna tell her she's an angel too.
Wednesday, July 21, 2004
When thirty five candles means you'll eat more wax than cake
iTunes is playing: Half a Boy and Half a Man - Sleepy LaBeef - Labour Of Love - The Music of Nick LoweThis wife of mine loves cats. And it was no surprise today when at the prata place on River Valley Road that she started telling me about how the cat that hangs out there's been stuck in the paint shop next to the prata place. As she's telling me about the plight of the cat, there's the sound of mewing from the paint shop, and Prata Cat sticks his head out the grille on top of the door. Wifey does what? She takes a chair, raises it up and coaxes the cat to jump onto it. It works. Another successful animal rescue. What I didn't expect was a very, very sweet gesture from her. After I had told her I would meet her at the prata place, she went to a cake shop, bought a cake and candle and once I sat down and before I ordered a tea, whipped out both and sang happy birthday as if she'd been doing this every day. Photos by Mrs Miyagi. Tiramisu from Sweet Secrets. Shirt by Adidas. Tea from Spize River Valley Road. Hair by the bastard barber of Holland Village. We then went and watched Taegukgi, raved about it for the next hour after, had tea again, bought some groceries from the seven eleven, and then went home. It apparently will get better than this, cos the wifey sez she's got a prezzie for me to be delivered in the morrow. Can't wait.
Tuesday, July 20, 2004
The push and pull of coming and going
this. I like it when non-English speakers express themselves in unique turns of phrases. It's not Chinglish. It's not bad English. It's just English used in a different way. It is refreshing. I'm a big fan of Hailey's, and I recommend her blog to y'all. Other than that, I've been enjoying birthday presents I've been getting. Get Fuzzy's a great read and a thoughtful gift. Thank you. I've also received just now, The Melancholy Death of Oyster Boy & Other Stories, a magnetic poetry set (shakespeare edition), and a lovely birthday card that almost moved me to tears while I was reading it at a traffic junction (I didn't cry only cos the lights turned green). I am such an emotional wreck. And I am very, very humbled. Thank you. Without even opening it, I can make out "I / have / nothing / through / melancholy" from the little magnets in the transparent box. OK lor.
Monday, July 19, 2004
I can't blog about it
All Blacks pipped the Wallabies in Wellington (I'm getting used to the Wobblies). I can't talk about how much I will miss her even though she'll still be around. I will miss her brave chirpiness. I will miss her slight smile. I will miss her mistimed laughter that catches me off guard. I will miss her glancing away after her first sentence. I will miss her colourful slippers. I will miss her while I nurse my hollow, sore guts. But I can't talk about it yet. There are some things I still can't talk about. ...Deep in heart-wrung tears I'll pledge thee, Warring sighs and groans I'll wage thee. Who shall say that Fortune grieves him, While the star of hope she leaves him? Me, nae cheerful twinkle lights me; Dark despair around benights me... Ae Fond Kiss - Robert Burns
Sunday, July 18, 2004
secondary school, junior college and university. Only difference being different courses in different faculties, and a different division and vocation in the Army. As you can imagine, he'd always be underestimated and underrated by others, not least because he was always understated in his infrequent utterances. Our parents were worried sick when it was his turn to go to the Army. How was the pampered baby of the family going to fare in boot camp? They asked. They needn't have worried. Apart from a serious injury where he broke his middle finger so badly it was at 90 degrees to the rest of his fingers, and which meant he could pick up fried eggs with one hand, he excelled. In his room are two plaques from the Army. One for being top Marksman Class 1 in his company, the other for being top Marksman Class 1 in the entire School of Basic Military Training. Give him a rifle and he can pick you off from a mile out, and then maybe get to pork Rachel Weisz. He's always had a technical bent that's short of obsessive. When we wuz kids, he'd take everything in the house apart - the record turntable, the grandfather clock, his watches, the electric fan (this one nearly got both of us kewwed), and then have only about a 50% success rate in putting them back together. But if there's anyone who excels in thinking outside the box, it's my brother. Way outside the box. So far outside the box no one will take him seriously. "Put a recording of the beeping sound they use for blind people at traffic crossings, but on a busy part of an expressway. See what happens. Heh heh." is one of the ten thousand miles outside the box musings he'd have. But for mine, his quirky sensibilities are appreciated. When once he had to visit me in prison, he brought biscuits, instant noodles and cigarettes wrapped in dark opaque plastic, because he said, you don't want the other inmates to see what you have and rob you five minutes after you leave the visiting area (because I had complained that I was robbed five minutes after he left me the day before, because (he said) all the stuff was still in supermarket plastic bags). He never asked how the fuck I got into that mess. Just visited me daily and brought me my stuff and arranged for me to get out, trying his darndest to lift my mood by shitting me about trying to hire / hijack a helicopter to help me break out. Chicks dig him too. Even if they're most of the time the butt of his deadpan pranks. Once I got him an internship at the place I worked at, and one girl asked him for the tenth time for the password to unlock the screensaver on the computer. One eyebrow raised, he deadpanned without looking up, "The password is asterix, asterix, asterix, asterix. Make sure it's four asterixes". We don't talk much, me and my brother, but I'll be wishing him birthday wishes when he gets online tonight. Fiona Xie tries distracting my brother from the back seat some time in 2001. His response? "Better sit properly and belt up. Or else you might become a human torpedo".
Saturday, July 17, 2004
Warming the cockles of the heart
LMD's capable staff before that, cos I took her there, since we had to pick up some clothes she had sent to the alterator in town. It was a good evening, and in keeping with custom, it will be a while before I see ST again. I rushed home to wash off work grime and rushed out again to meet someone else for drinks, because she said she'd buy me drinks, seeing as it's my birthday soon, and seeing as she thought she was gunna be telling me all sorts of stuff about how her life is twisting itself inside out back to front and again twice. Fair deal, I thought. It turned out to be a fairer deal, as we had drinks, the waterfront, and a sea breeze cool enough not to make you sweat any. Though she told me everything, it wasn't half bad. I had a good time listening to her. Always good when the talker is easy on the eyes. We must have spent hours by the waterfront, I'm not sure. 'Cos I didn't check what time I got there. But there was a garishly lit Karaoke Junk Boat plying the waterfront, back and forth, blaring karaoke tunes and howling karaokers. They got the idea right. Put the karaokers on a boat. But as I was telling Talker Girl, they should sail out further, preferably into international waters, where no one but the sea urchins and mermaids can hear them. Nights like these are good. There's the pretty Talker Girl before me, the sea beside me, the breeze around me, and beer slowly inside me. If it could get better than this, I'd be a very happy man.
Friday, July 16, 2004
iTunes is playing: The Great Song of Indifference - Bob Geldof - Great Songs of Indifference: The Best of Bob Geldof & the Boomtown RatsImportant to mothers I've been wondering for a while what Gripe Water is because I suddenly remember I used to like it when I was a child. (And there is nothing wrong in skimming ideas from other blogs to write something for your own). Apparently, Gripe Water is given to colicky babies. I must have been very colicky then, because I think I took the stuff almost daily. Tastes real nice too. Might go get a bottle. In India, Woodward's Celebrated Gripe Water used to be (though I dunno about now) marketed with a slight adaptation. Woodward's logo depicts Hercules strangling a snake, but the promotional posters in India show a fat little baby Lord Krishna subjugating quite a fierce looking serpent. There are grateful Hindu cows in the background Other than that, there really isn't much to talk about. I'd tell you how much fun I had at brunch this morning with Hamsup's Owner if I could. But I can't.
Thursday, July 15, 2004
Coming down the rest of the week
Suppaman today. I will fall off buildings if I try to shoot spiderwebthingies from my wrists. Tueday night, I was introduced to someone's stuffed toy pig called Hamsup, while our cars were alongside each other at a junction. I wanted to show her my Qoo doll (OMG so cute, blue colour cat, two eyes, one mouth, one ear), but someone nicked it from my car some time ago. Give it back. I bought a carton of Coke for that. Hamsup and his owner will be leaving next week, and I shall miss them. Meantime, we've been whiling away the little time left going for food, cogitating on matters of utmost import, such as whether you should still go for a job interview if you know you're not gonna be taking the job, and swapping soft toy stories. My friend E convocated/commenced Wednesday arvo. Her third degree. It's her hobby. She collects degrees. I haven't called to congratulate her yet cos it's becoming too routine. I think I shall buy her a bowl of pig liver mee sua with some of the money I won Tuesday. It's Thursday, there's work. Then Friday, there's work. Friday there's also dinner with ST, though hopefully not with her mum again. ST likes chawan mushi. Maybe we'll go Jap. ST likes curdy stuff.
Tuesday, July 13, 2004
I am a lean, mean, fighting machine again
IPPT and was awarded $200 for doing it well. Keeping trim the past year has paid off, finally. It's the first time since 1991 I've gotten a monetary award for IPPT. Did I mention I'm officially fit now? 5711F Trooper, Armoured Fighting Vehicle (M113 Ultra/OWS), Class One, I am. I shall now over-dramatise my achievement. Look away now if you can't handle it. This is my Olympics. I didn't think I was gunna make it, but I did, despite getting two hours' sleep last night, running around since 6am (part of my job), swimming at 2.30pm for half an hour (part of my job) and getting stuck in the Orchard Road arvo jam (part of my job). I arrived at Maju Camp at 4.45pm, booked in, waited an hour and started the first station of the test and suffered a cramping calf muscle, falling over in the process. Then my right knee decided to buckle and later swell (but not as bad as what Metastasis suffered). I had a tummy ache from drinking two cans of Red Bull and gobbling a Snickers bar half hour before the test. I had a pounding head from thinking too much about the test. I had dry mouth. I had a slight rash. I had IPPT syndrome. I also suffered the internal giggles because it's always funny to be back in camp and being ordered around by PTI sergeants whose Ingri buay sai. Very tiring. Then after completing and ace-ing the chin-ups, sit-ups, standing broad jump and shuttle run, a big mumfucking thunderstorm threatened to cancel the last and most important station: The two point motherfucking four klick run. You see, the Singapore Armed Forces is a fair weather Army. Heavy rain with a chance of lightning and all soldiers are ordered indoors. Several soldiers abandoned their test and went home. I was too tired to make a move so quickly, so I waited, napped for half an hour, and one of the PTI sergeants said 'OK gennermen, the Cat One storm revise to clear liao, please put your tlanspongder on your sue and lie up before the yarlow lie'. I put my right foot on the yarlow line and cramped up, but still ran like all buggery. For about three minutes. Then I had cramps, headache, tummy ache, stitch for the next eight. Next thing I know, I'm done. And I knew I passed. Very happy. But not as happy as when they passed me the slip of paper that said, Total: 22, Result: Pass, Award: Silver, Payment will be made to your bank a/c. Now I am going out to treat a friend to Bak Kut Teh.
Monday, July 12, 2004
Waltzing Matilda and expects an Aussie to know every single word, and badgers the Aussie into responding to 'G'day mate'? The self-respecting Aussie would suffer the Cringe. On occasion, an Aussie is the source of the Cringe. Steve Irwin comes to mind. He misinforms millions (mostly the dumb ones) into thinking you can hop on a plane to Australia and wrestle crocodiles once you've passed customs. Here in Sillypore, the self-respecting and self-aware (I think about maybe 247 people) cringe when we read or watch anything on Channel Newsasia, especially local 'news' items, and even more especially, important announcements from cabinet ministers like BG (Bald General) George Yeo, whose latest quote from the Compendium of the Bleeding Obvious was "Power Failure No Good For Foreigners' Impression of Singapore", or something to that effect. Thanks to the delightful Peking Duck, we've uncovered another local Cringe Inducer, who thinks he's been parrying with the Peking Duck, but in reality, is making a monkey out of hisself, and making millions think you can hop on a plane to Singapore and swat morons once you've passed customs. (Actually, you can do that at customs).
Sunday, July 11, 2004
Life gets strange
she calls asking for coffee. I'd normally decline with the standard I am having my Sunday nap excuse, but not this arvo. I was happy to meet up with her. I was happy to do stuff with her. On the way to pick her up from her apartment, I was tailed by this black Porsche Cayenne with custom chinese lucky number plates (5354 or something), and with its headlights on high beam. Irritating. I slow down to a crawl just so's the Cayenne can overtake and so's I can glare at Cayenne driver. Cayenne overtakes, I glare, but the driver has no side profile, I swear! Two-dimensional face! So, I pull ahead a bit, so's I can get a look at the front of the face, and lo and behold, it is Fann "Xando Blocks Cabbos Tablets" Wong. She really has a two-dimensional face. You'll never see her driving a convertible, cos her head would be blown flat against the headrest. A minute's worth of giggling later, I pick up ST and we have a coffee and several ciggies before we pick up her mum. And one more thing about Sundays with ST. I always get a stomach ache. I don't know whether it's the excitement of meeting her, or the exertion of walking too quickly beside her after coffee. On occasion, she gets a tummy ache too. This, I take to mean our feelings for each other are mutual. So sweet. We ask each other several times, do you wanna use the loo? Out of genuine concern, and the familiarity was both bizarre and palpably comforting. Thankfully, our stomachs settled somewhat, and we continued our Sunday jaunt, doing a spot of shopping at pace, checking out sandals cos she said my sandals were ugly and didn't match my nice slim cut pants and short sleeved shirt. At her mum's, things got a bit awkward as mum started chatting non-stop about her apartment and how she and her husband managed to clinch the lease. Good thing for ST's impatience, else we might never have left the place. Dinner was good and taken at Geylang's beef horfun headquarters, and topped off with a bowl of beancurd. ST and her mum seemed happy to see each other, and I strangely fitted the equation as well. Another brief awkward silence was experienced only when ST's mum realised how old I was when we started sharing about how nice it was when Gluttons' Square was a permanent fixture, and how Centrepoint was only a Cold Storage supermarket with a Magnolia Milk Bar out front near the open carpark. Again, ST's impatience broke the silence with a 'Mum, he's nine years older than me'. As I write this, ST's SMSd again, "Feeling fat and full, but still greedy, how?". How indeed.
Saturday, July 10, 2004
I feel grand because this is the life
Grand Hyatt, who very nicely (and strangely) gave us a suite on the 18th floor of the new Grand Wing for FREE! Free leh, take lor! Went there straight after work yesterday, and HL had already prepared the champers and strawberries, cheese, caviar and crackers. It was the life. Then I took a shower in the fabulous, fabulous bathroom, changed, sat down in the living room and had more champers, strawberries, cheese, caviar and crackers. It was the life again. Friends donated champagne and caviar, hotel donated suite. then we remembered we could order room service, and it was even more of the life. This is the life. This should be the life if it already isn't.
Thursday, July 08, 2004
Angels are everywhere
Wednesday, July 07, 2004
Finnish dinner company
Monday, July 05, 2004
We met in a marching contingent
Karen and LMD who turn twenty six and twenty nine. Many happy returns. Your blogs rawk. And before we have delusions of living in an intelligent, cosmopolitan and driven society, here's an article that has undergone a sense-of-irony-bypass operation: It's about people who fall in love while participating in National Day parades. As far as I know, you only get these sorts of news reports in countries such as the People's Republic of China, the Democratic People's Republic of Korea and.... damn! Rare! And what's the name of our People's ruling party? For 36-year-old Vijay Chugani and his wife Candy, NDP rehearsals were excuses for them to meet and to date, when they met 12 years ago. Twenty thousand points for originality! Hey, you wanna go do NDP? I think we should really do something for our nation. *bats eyelids* Oh, I thought you'd never ask! OR, a sleazier scenario, maybe in some pub/club somewhere: Hey babe, you're really hot. Wanna NDP? I NDP you, then you NDP me? You're on. But I get to be parade commander and you be the Singapore Girl contingent. Cue patriotic song sung by semi famous local singer who knows damn well she's singing her own career death knell. Don't dooo eeeet Stefanie!!! Oh, you mean you did it last year already?! Oh... so how's the year's break going for you? Oh... extending it. Yeah, I'm all for finding yourself and doing other stuff too.
Sunday, July 04, 2004
Every single soul's gotta do their share
Immezzler at Sebastien's on Greenwood Avenue. If this goes on, it might turn out to be a good birthday month. Greenwood Avenue is off Dunearn Road in Bukit Timah, and has been touted as the 'next Holland Village', just as Serangoon Gardens, Siglap and Sengkang Far North Neighbourhood 24 before it. Every locality that has more than three restaurants, one bakery and two pet shops qualify as the 'next Holland Village'. I like nice breezy dinners and nice breezy conversations to go along with the food and wine. Simply, nice. Thank you very much, Immezzler. We go a long way to get rid of that great big onion. Woulda posted some photos if not for the damn CF card konking out.
Saturday, July 03, 2004
Happening! I'm dancing on stage!
Friday, July 02, 2004
Nothing is as it seems
iTunes is playing: Big Butter And Egg Man - Wynton Marsalis - Standard Time Vol. 3: The Resolution Of Romance [UK]Heinz Spasgetti I was starving tonight but didn't go out eventually because I was waylaid by IM convos. And so, I 'made' supper. You know what Heinz Spasgetti is like, so no need to tell y'all. But, Bill Bryson, in one of his wonderful books called "Made In America", reveals: The great thing about a slogan was that it didn't have to be accurate to be effective. Heinz never actually had '57 Varieties' of anything. The catch-phrase arose simply because H.J. Heinz, the company's founder, decided he liked the sound of the number. Undeterred by considerations of verity, he had the slogan slapped on every one of his products he produced, which in 1896 was already far more than fifty-seven. And then, and then, I buggerise around the net and see what I find? It doesn't get any better than this. A videoclip of a TVC with Jeon Ji-Hyun in rugby AND cricket gear!
Thursday, July 01, 2004
There was one thing hard to miss at the newsstand where I bought my cigarettes today. It was this new magazine (which I had already bought last week), which was plastered all over the deck, on the awning and clipped on the strings they use to hang magazines. I'm thinking, man, she's a hottie on this cover. Then I get home and the phone rings with the ID showing an unknown number. Hi, this is May, um, did you scan the cover of 'Shape'? Can you email it to me cos I don't have a scanner? Um, yeah I scanned it. OK I email you. What's your address? Later, I called my contact to verify if my number was given to her. In case it was a prank. It wasn't. Sometimes, I am pleased I used to be talent scout par excellence. You never know when a hottie will call you for a favour.
Sunsets are as good as sunrises
Siam Supper Club first, 'cos one of us says 'there are hot chicks there'. Our loser genes kick in and we mill around the bar there, where all the stools are taken. At the bar are young women in groups of two or three, possibly in their early or late twenties, I can't really tell. Adjacent to or near them are men, in their twenties, in shirt, loosened tie and work pants, in groups of two, three, four or more. The boys and I concur that both species are there hoping the other will 'pick them up'. Both species seem interested in the other. The women really seem to be waiting. The men, waiting too. Meantime, the Siam Supper Club makes a ton of money selling drinks that will make both bold enough to make a move. The men are young professionals. Work their arses off in the financial sector, as they call it. They have five year plans. These five year plans, together with their shirts, loosened ties and work pants, seem to impress the young women no end. I hope he chats me up. He sounds like he has a five year plan. Me and me mates, in our thirties, t-shirts, jeans and sneakers, have a five minute plan. We order a beer each, finish it and move on out of the Supper Club 'cos we're afraid we're gonna get shown up if we're asked what our five year plans are. So, do you have a five year plan? Course I do. I left it at home though. Wanna come see? Edit: Cowboy Caleb thinks sunsets are much more appealing than sunrises though. Edit, edit: This post keeps on giving: this time from a 20 something female's point of view.