Working things out

Having one of those up and down weekends is good for the soul. Keeps the blood pumping too. Makes you feel alive. And all that. A two-day anger festival (family matters) came to a head earlier, and I am glad that order has been restored, and all parties involved have been put in their places, and I am always right. So, anyhoo, me and the boys and some girls went and played touch footy again. This time, it wasn't sunny. In fact, it rained buckets. But still we had loadsa fun, and a good workout to boot. Just ask LMD. If she's able to blog about it in the next few days. I seldom dole out advice, but there are exceptions. Like when I'm feeling self-conscious enough (because a fair number of people read this blog now... so scared...). Today I want to tell all of youse not to let matters fester until it needs to be released in a manner that threatens the whatsit and whatnot of your family's all that. And if ever you find yourself so bogged down by the weight of the said festering matters, go get a group of your best mates and have a game of touch footy in the rain. There is nothing you cannot resolve. If you can't do it on your own, you have your mates. But always remember, if there's a wee, there's a way (via Daryl Sng). Table debris, 29th Jan 2005

Surf stop: Miss O. remembers... cos she usually forgets

iTunes' party shuffle is playing a copy of: Hain't It Funny - k.d. lang - Drag, of which I have the original CD and therefore didn't steal music.

Too much coffee and sugary drinks so cannot blog properly

I've just had one of those rare days where I completely lost my temper. How did I lose my temper? I got angry in the morning, then simmered all afternoon while consuming four shots of espresso and one funky purple/pink drink, deliberated over how I would display my anger, and then went and displayed my anger. I think there's a market for my kind of anger management. But you can't stay angry for too long (like say, more than a day) when you come home, go online, and find things like this: Via YJ: Luke, eaaaaat meeeeeee! And you know when a blogger has gone off the boil when he, like me, starts taking pittures of his coffee cups: He Starbucks, I Spinelli!

Surf stop: Pulled in many directions

iTunes' party shuffle is playing a copy of: Black is the Color of My True Love's Hair - Nina Simone - Verve Jazz Masters 17, of which I have the original CD and therefore didn't steal music.

Snippets from high-flying lives

I spent this evening at the poolside (the pool of which has 'underwater music') of the swanky serviced apartment complex called 'Orchard Parksuites' because a high-flyer uni-mate was back in town for work and for to meet up with some of her treetop-skimming uni-mates. It is a reflex assumption that money is no matter to these high-flying, high-living uni-mates. But of course, that is not true. They have money issues too, just that the decimal point is usually further to the right of the figures we throw about. But still, I have not felt so comparatively poor in a while. Then they spoke about mothers-in-law, and how horrible they were. Then they spoke of how marriages between some of our uni-mates had ended before they actually began. Then they spoke about children, and babies, and how it was read somewhere that you can lactate even if you're not a mother or an expectant mother. And I'm sitting here wondering if they still wonder why I'm always the one contributing totally incongruent conversation topics. Gotta add some swank to my income

Surf stop: Men of Clay

iTunes' party shuffle is playing a copy of: Oh, what a beautiful mornin' - 1998 London Cast Recording - Oklahoma!, of which I have the original CD and therefore didn't steal music.

Even larger than life in Meatspace (Mr Miyagi forget to bring camera)

So, Adri had to bugger off to the Night Safari, which was a pity, really, because that meant we were short of one very good set of brains to pick. But then, nair mind, the doyen of Singapore bloggers, Mr Brown, arrived soon after, knocking over some chairs and almost a table at Cafe Cartel before he got to the table. And what a table it was too. I got to sit next to Xiaxue, who sat next to Preetamrai, who sat next to La Idler, who sat next to Agagooga, who sat opposite Myrick, who sat next to Mr & Mrs Acorn, who sat next to The Calm One (Neh? the One, so Calm until stop blogging?), who sat next to Mr Brown, who sat opposite me. So many things we talked about, and I was in charge of doling out gossip. Everything I know about the bloggers I know is now in the reliable hands of the abovenamed. They might choose to do something about it, so stay tuned! Of course, one of the more important things we discussed was blogging. My contribution was 'how to increase your page hits', although that was only limited to 'putting up a photo of Fiona Xie'. Preetamrai, on the other hand (where there are also five fingers), offered a solution to parents who want to know if their teenage children have blogs: buy them a gift, then google 'my mother/father/parents bought me a gift'. Xiaxue, who I think makes a darn good journo/media personality with her incessant probing and baiting, contributed in her own inimitable way, very generously offering to let me feel her up. (That's when Mr Brown choked, coughed and sneezed one piece of macaroni back onto his plate, decent family man that he is). I declined, of course, knowing that if I had as much as sampled her offer, I'd be splashed all over her blog as the sleazy old bloke who squeezed her tit at Cafe Cartel. As the others would agree, you cannot buy this kind of experience, man... eh, actually, you can, but that one has got little to do with blogger meet-ups. Night safari photo taken by Adri What's in Xiaxue's wallet? Xiaxue's photos, lah! What?

Surf stop: WHY IS THE PLATYPUS?

iTunes' party shuffle is playing a copy of: It's Just Not Cricket - The 12th Man - The 12th Man, of which I have the original CD and therefore didn't steal music.

Household applicants

Been very busy, so I'm relying on a cell of operatives to gather information, useful and not, for this blog. One of my operatives in Chinatown tells me the Chinese New Year decorations there includes a giant rooster sitting on some giant eggs amidst the recycled Christmas lighting. Rooster sitting on eggs leh. "If this isn't indicative of the state of the Singaporean male, I don't know what is", my operative adds. Another operative reports the following conversation heard on a train. (Not overheard. Heard. Singaporeans, we talk very LOUDLY):

Eh, any shop got applicants sale or not ah? What applicants? What shop? Neh? Like Best Denki, Courts all that? What applicants? Neh? Like kettle, microwave all that? Household applicants lah! Orh. Dunno. See newspaper lah.

My well-trained operative adhered to the rule of non-intervention and resisted the urge to correct the conversation, allowing himself only to mutter, 'Buy mattress free handphone, dear". And Chinese New Year buy new applicants appliances one meh? My family just insists on mandarin oranges, tidbits and new cloats. Get this monkey off my back. I look stupid enough as it is.

iTunes' party shuffle is playing a copy of: These Are Days - 10,000 Maniacs - These Are Days [Single], of which I have the original CD and therefore didn't steal music.

Chingay Parade 2005

Rumour from my big, fat grapevine is that the two big headed dolls leading the dragon at this year's Chingay Parade will be Cheryl Fox and Robin Leong. Chinchiagay lor, the colours

Surf stop: rice&soup

iTunes' party shuffle is playing a copy of: La Vie Dansante - Aaron Neville - Warm Your Heart, of which I have the original CD and therefore didn't steal music.

All Sundays should be like this

The sun was out, the weather was great, kids were playing cricket (yes!) and chucking a rugby ball around, and believe it or not, this was at the SMU field, Singapore. Not Paine Reserve, Kingsford/Randwick, Sydney. So the kids and their parents spoke with Aussie accents, but what the heck, the sun was out and the weather was great. Our game of touch footy was a shambles, though. Five blokes bailed on us, and so we had to run ourselves ragged again playing three on three till we got bored. Then we played three on three with full contact instead of touch, though self-preservation took precedence and we more or less tickled each other to the ground instead of tackling. Fun and sunburn was had and enjoyed by all present, and we're planning to make this a weekly (every Sunday) event. Same place, 5pm. If you're interested (boys and girls) please apply here. Right now I am deathly busy, but very glad I had a bit of a run on the paddock yesterday. Doesn't get any better than this, I don't think. Footy at Paine Reserve, Kingsford/Randwick, 1999

Surf stop: privatefluff, puff and all that hush

iTunes' party shuffle is playing a copy of: I Don't Like Mondays - The Boomtown Rats - Great Songs of Indifference: The Best of Bob Geldof & the Boomtown Rats, of which I have the original CD and therefore didn't steal music.

With a little help from my wing woman

Mr Miyagi can catch fly with chopstick, Mr Miyagi don't need help with the chicks. But for those who do, here's an interesting dating service called a 'dating mistress' or a 'wing woman'. From the Sydney Morning Herald (Registration may be required):

Keen to meet women, yet sick of rejection by those who have heard every line in the book, a handful of Australian men have decided to conquer the dating challenge. Men have long roped in their mates to win over the ladies, with varied success. But for those who don't have female accomplices to do their dating dirty work, assistance is available for a fee of $60 an hour on weekends. By day, Jessica studies teaching at the University of Technology, Sydney. By night, she moonlights as a dating mistress, or wing woman.... ...The 22-year-old says the service is simply cashing in on an existing social trend. "I have some male friends where the guy says to the girl[friend], 'Hook me up with that girl' or 'Bring your girlfriends'," she said. Jessica will meet clients in a bar and get them to point out girls they are interested in. Then she will approach the girl and strike up a conversation.... ...The man appears and Jessica introduces them, pretending they are friends. But she shrugs off suggestions that such behaviour is deceptive.

I dunno, might only work for Australians. Could you chat her up for me, please? Yep, the one waving at me.

Surf stop: Ken's Reflections

iTunes' party shuffle is playing a copy of: Nella Fantasia - Il Divo - Il Divo, of which I have the original CD and therefore didn't steal music.

Sure they serve beef, they invited a cow

Last Saturday I attended a wedding banquet I enjoyed for the most part. The only part I only sort of enjoyed was putting freshly withdrawn banknotes into an ang pow just before I got to the banquet. It was only later on that I felt parting with my money was worth it, because it was a pleasant wedding banquet. Unpretentious, short speeches, shorter (2 song) singing performances and decent food that was served quickly. Two spoonfuls of sharks' fin soup, and the fifth course was already on the table. On hindsight, I should've known it wasn't going to be unbearable, because any event involving Lat and his lot is almost always enjoyable. A few days before the wedding, I met up with the groom and bride and they told me a funny story about the wedding preparations. The bride was in charge of the invites, and the groom the banquet seating arrangements. They didn't take leave from their jobs, so as you can imagine, they were very busy and very flustered. The bride looked up the names and addresses of friends and relatives of both families and hand wrote each card and envelope. Then, as is the way with modern living, you know some friends but don't know their full names or addresses, only their handphone number and/or email address. So, the bride goes, 'Darling, you inviting your friend Carl?' 'Yes', replies the groom, poring over details of the banquet, and telling the banquet manager on the phone that there was no way he wants suckling pig on the menu because suckling pigs suck. 'OK.', and she starts to write out the invitation, and all is well. 'Darling, how to spell 'Carl'?', she asks a few minutes later, while he is still busy on the phone. Now, maybe she mumbled, maybe she mispronounced, maybe he was hard of hearing or maybe, and most probably, he wasn't paying attention. But he replies, 'C-O-W'. 'Are you sure it's 'C-O-W'? 'Yes, C-O-W, C-O-W! Why you ask me this kind of thing?!' A few days after the invites were written and sent out, the groom and bride were again doing some more preparations for the wedding. The bride handling the RSVPs, and the groom finalising the seating arrangments. Looking at the list of confirmed guests, he scrolled down alphabetically till he came to 'C', and saw 'Cow'. 'Oh my God. Darling, why you call my friend Cow?' 'I asked you how to spell, you said C-O-W'. 'Since when? Where got people named Cow one?' 'How I know? You and your Ah Beng friends, maybe got one called Ah Gu, so English name Cow lah!' Put me at the right table, I give more ang pow, can?

Surf stop: Is this edible? v12.0

iTunes' party shuffle is playing a copy of: Shting Shtang - Joe Clay - Labour Of Love - The Music of Nick Lowe, of which I have the original CD and therefore didn't steal music.

Summer (day) of sport

How hot was it today? Blue sky, no clouds, and car upholstery hot enough to cure you of piles once and for all. I got a call from the boys asking to go down to the SMU field to kick some footy for a bit, in preparation for Sunday's long-awaited touch footy game we've organised. It's been a while since we've played, and I don't think we've had a decent game since when we were all in Sydney. In Sydney, almost every weekend was a sporting weekend, rain, shine or hail. If you were really sick or injured (from playing sport), you'd stay home and watch sport. If not, you'd be out there, playing all four codes of football (rugby union, rugby league, aussie rules and soccer), sometimes in the same afternoon. But we're not in Sydney anymore, and it's hard trying to organize a game of footy, because unlike games like soccer where everyone plays soccer because it's a simple game, touch footy and its variants require a little bit more grey matter, and most people don't quite want to work their noodle during leisure time. Today, there were three of us, and a schoolboy who asked nicely if he could join us, and we ran ourselves ragged after half an hour. I am aching everywhere. But I have a very, very slight tan and I'm happier for it. So I'm hoping its blue skies, no clouds on Sunday once more. Gotta get as many games in before I grow too old to run around on the field. Not too foul if you were sick or injured and laid up at home

Surf stop: kiwis&bananas *eat me bitch

iTunes' party shuffle is playing a copy of: Someone To Watch Over Me/I Got Rhythm - Stephane Grappelli - 85 And Still Swinging, of which I have the original CD and therefore didn't steal music.

Things to do when you've nothing to do

There's such a thing as terminal boredom, where you slowly wilt from inertia. But I won't die from that, because there are so many things to do online, like blogging with your eyes closed, ferinstance. I was about to try that when a new msn messenger chat window opened, and it was my buddy the American-Chinese-Actor-based-in-Beijing-studying-Mandarin. Dude!, he said. Hey Joe, I said. Dude, don't call me Joe. I went to see a palmist and fortune teller and he's told me to change my name, he replied. So what's your new name? See my MSN nickname? It says Li Zhaogeng (Joe Lee) That's it, dude. Call me that please. OK, Li Zhaogeng (Joe Lee). Yeah, it'll bring me good fortune. You bet it will. It means 'your undies are showing'. Are you shitting me?? Ask any Singaporean or Taiwanese, dude. But you're in Beijing now, so it means something else, and you can always call yourself Joe again when you're back here. You're full of shit. I know. You're not gonna put it in your blog are you? No. Maria...mmmmmmmm

Surf stop: HostSara- Be heard. Be real. I just WANNA BE ME. (Sorry, someone said they wanted to see more celebrity blogs. So, via Re-minisce, here 'tis, lor. I also cough cough.)

iTunes' party shuffle is playing a copy of: Margarita - Traveling Wilburys - Vol. 1, of which I have the original CD and therefore didn't steal music.

Hot Goss and little else

Update: Oh no. Things have gotten out of hand! What drama! So essiting! FYI, Xiaxue has deleted and replaced the post that this entry links to, so don't bother clicking there. But if you want to read what she's made of Fiona 'closing down her blog', it's here. Will Fiona close down her blog or not? Mr Miyagi takes no chances and cuts and pastes Fiona's last post:

Wednesday, January 19, 2005 dear friends this is seriously getting out of hand and out of line . i am shutting down this blog and moving it to personal emails . i am saddened by the fact that people have wasted so much time fueling such rubbish instead of using time wisely to improve on their lives . going to zouk or typing here is not a sin and i am answerable to god for my own actions not anyone esle's . the sterotype of going to zouk , getting drunk and sleeping around or actresses sleeping around to get their roles , has to be broken .that is completely untrue . thank you very much for your interest but i think this has gone on too far and i wish for all of you to just concentrate on investing time in people you love and making a difference in their lives instead . god bless and keep you .

And no, I do not drive a Ferrari, and Xiaxue wasn't referring to me when she mentioned a Ferrari, but I'm happy if it came across like that. Alrighty, on with our regular programming... Nothing like a spot of gossip mongering to liven up a sleepy afternoon. So, go to it! Spread the love! Or lack thereof! I logged on this morning to find the usual two to three early risers visiting this blog had the company of five hundred, scouring the archives for dirties. That could only mean either one of two things: I had been browned, or xiaxued. Turns out, I was xiaxued. (If I had been browned and xiaxued on the same day, this blog would essplode). Xiaxue had read one of the posts here, and I am so flattered, but that's besides the point, where she found one Surf Stop link that piqued her interest somewhat. After going through that said link, she's verified (and who are we to doubt her) that it is, as I suspected, Fiona Xie's blogspot blog. (My colleague Sherlock-san found it on her Friendster profile). The gist of it is this: Xiaxue is mightily pissed at the blatant hypocrisy (or as Fiona calls it, 'hypocriticism') on display, and puts Fiona and, indeed, all of us, on notice. She says there is no room for hypocrisy in the blogosphere. Your readers will sniff you out no matter how tortured your prose and contrived your verse. You want to make a stand? Put your monkey where your mouse is, or something like that! Me? I'll just sit idly and watch the flame wars ensue. Or maybe I'll just fan the flames a little, y'know, just so the satay can cook properly? I'll have Xiaxue know that I hold Fiona in the regard that she deserves, though I'm not necessarily hurt by her opinions of my one-time charge. But I'll admit I did a very bad job of polishing her PR skills. But you know what they say, you pay peanuts, you get elephants. But whatever aspersions that might have been cast, let me say this here once and for all, I did not have sexual relations with Fiona Xie. There. She can say what she wants, but it DID NOT happen. Once again, her blog is at http://deliriousdream.blogspot.com. While we're at it, I find myself agreeing with Xiaxue that the local press is way too nice dealing with media personalities, covering up their sordid dalliances all the time. If this were Hong Kong or Taiwan, once someone knew you were caught in flagrante with Robin Leong during a break in filming One Leg Kicking, well, you'd be doing it again because you'd be so much more famous. And they also say that if you choose a life in the limelight, be prepared to die by the swordfish. All youse celebrities and media types, google yourself now, there is nowhere to pretend to hide. We are talking about youse! Yes, you too, Steph Song, you are 34 years old this year, was once married, and is now away in L.A. because you didn't back the incumbent! Watch out, starlets, wannabes, cannotbes and neverhasbeens, the Revolution is under way! We will champion our versions of the truth! We will be standing on top of Caldecott Hill burning copies of 8 Days and iZhouKan! OK, I have to go. Frothing at the mouth is not a good look. ... but there once was a menage a trois between.... two.... and one.... and then.... Lalala... Sunny Day, Sweepin' the clouds away, On my way to where the air is sweet...

Surf stop: You think leh?

iTunes' party shuffle is playing a copy of: Yellow Roses - Ry Cooder - Chicken Skin Music, of which I have the original CD and therefore didn't steal music.

Can't get married this year

I have nothing to blog about, she has nothing to blog about, and she's running out of things to blog about. And that's partly because we have jobs which require our attention for most of the day, and we have lousy informants and sources who provide us with information only for us to find that Mr Brown has gotten the scoop already. Lousy lah, you friends. Email me stuff that's so dated, what's the use? How to be cutting edge blog? I feel like Straits Times! Reasonably pleasant design, but crappy content. I wish I were Seymour Hersh. The bugger has damned good sources. (If you don't already know who Seymour Hersh is, he's the guy that uncovered My Lai, Abu Ghraib, and now, scarily, something that may already be going on next to Iraq). But I'm no Hersh, and I don't have Hersh's contacts. Instead, I have a friend who calls me at a quarter past midnight to tell me to write about why so many people (her friends and acquaintances) are getting married these coupla weeks. She says her friend's mother says the Year of the Rooster is a very bad year to get married. It is also known as the Year of the Widow. The husband will die before the wife does. There. Is that news to you? Was that useful? If so, leave a comment and say Mr Miyagi's blog is very informative, and is the leading source of useful information, and Mr Miyagi shouldn't even be suffering this bout of insecurity. Can? So, don't get hitched this coming Lunar year. And if you've started thinking about it, stop it. Don't matter what blood type=character type your partner is, because my quarter past midnight and half-past-six friend tells me this year is a bad year. From toothpastefordinner.com

Surf stop: The Exciting World of Handsome

Sim Wrong Who, the lions and the second leg in the tiger's cup

I'd do a mock interview with Sim Wong Hoo if I could, but all that happened was he walked past me while I was outside the Grand Ballroom at the Hilton, and I said, 'iPod!', while he was still within earshot, and I was half afraid he might pause and turn around and give me a shellacking or something. Of course he didn't. He wouldn't, would he? He's confident, he's smug. His product's got FM radio. He wouldn't give an Elmo's Tickle about an iPod lover because an iPod lover's missing out on the best tunes played on Mediacorp Radio. He wouldn't be caught dead wearing black skivvies and a three day growth, either. He was decked out in his Sim Wong Hoo outfit: sensible pants and work shirt with button-down collars. What an icon. That's what happens when I get the grumps. And I got the grumps today because nine of ten friends I called today to ask nicely to hang out with said they couldn't, even if today was the only day in the week I could even contemplate hanging out. They all said something about the lion looking for a second leg in the tiger's cup, and that's quite a big thing, so I suppose I'll wait till 6am for Channel Newsasia to stop looping their loopy music and broadcast some news, or read it in the papers later in the morning. I did come into extended contact today with one friend, albeit in an online way, because he's in Beijing, where he's taking a year off his 'acting career' to learn Mandarin, so's he can come back here and fulfil his lifetime ambition of appearing in a lead role on Channel 8. From what he tells me, he's really immersing himself in the culture there, rediscovering his roots by engaging in the services of several pillow Mandarin tutors. It really works, he says. And this gets me thinking that maybe that's why there are so many working ladies here from China who have somehow managed to evade deportation en masse. It's good for our Speak Mandarin Decree Campaign, you see? Oh, Steve did call me today as well, but that's not counted. He said something about going rollerblading with the girl he's not quite seeing. That's the thing with Steve. Likes to adopt whatever hobby his object of interest is interested in. Last year alone, he took up golf, pottery, creative writing, wakeboarding, diving, bungee jumping and field archery. And he invariably ends up listening to the same music too. Thank goodness he hasn't tried his hand at rapping yet. Even if he does, what can you tell a friend who is so insistent on losing himself in a non-relationship? I suppose I should just be glad for him that he's making full use of his SAFRA membership. "This picture defies captioning, she said"

Surf stop: Cheeseen! Chronicles Resurrected

iTunes' party shuffle is playing a copy of: In the Jailhouse Now - Soggy Bottom Boys, Tim Blake Nelson - O Brother, Where Art Thou?, of which I have the original CD and therefore didn't steal music.

Thumbs up for selfish brats and their parents

Saturday was so jam-packed you wouldn't imagine it were possible to fit so many things into a day. Then again, not many things happen on a normal day in my neck of the woods, so, it could possibly just be me. First up, a tight schedule meant I had to be in two places at once at 9am in the morning, and I was so pumped up for work I almost achieved that. Then at one of my workplaces, someone hurt himself with a nail gun, and this is where it gets slightly bizarre. I work Saturday mornings at ACS Barker Road's sports complex (as opposed to sports simple for the poorer schools), and they have a big ass hall, a big ass movement room, a big ass swimming pool and a not so big ass gymnasium. The facilities are partly managed by a private company (that hires my company to run courses for kids). Being a sports complex, it is a big ass place with an odd and labyrinthine layout. The glass doors leading to the swimming pool on the third floor are locked, and to get to the pool, you have to go to the second floor where the changing rooms are, go into them, walk up the very slippery concrete staircase to the pool on the third floor. So as I'm talking to a customer, a well-heeled looking but visibly distressed woman barks at me, asking me where the entrance to the pool is. I tell her she has to go down to the second floor. She ignores me and tries to find a way to the pool from the third. I tell her again. She then tells me her 'man' has shot himself in the hand with a nail gun while by the pool repairing one of the water polo goal riggings. So I go to the glass door on the third floor and see an Indian man clutching his bleeding hand (he shot himself in the thumb), while everyone else and everyone else at the pool is going about their activities as if the Indian man were invisible. The water polo boys, the teachers, the parents of the water polo boys, all, do zip, nada, nothing. Meanwhile, the well-heeled woman is trying to use her special powers to pass a packet of tissue paper to the injured man through the closed glass door. I offer to go and fetch her injured employee but she doesn't say anything, so I go and fetch her injured employee, who valiantly tries to indicate to me how he shot himself by showing me his thumb and pointing at the culprit nail gun. Thumb up, nail gun. Nail gun good, he seems to be saying. He doesn't say very much else, and his tortured English could very well be attributed to the pain caused by his injury as much as the possibility that he's a migrant, non-English-speaking, worker. Thumb up, nail gun, and maybe that's why nobody offers to help him, and not because they are a bunch of selfish, racist brats who've inherited a selfish, racist trait or two from their parents. After fetching 'her man' (her own description of the injured man), the well-heeled woman doesn't thank me. She says instead, "What about the tools? We can't leave the tools there, somebody will steal them", so I make another trip to retrieve the tools and bring both toolbox and injured man to the carpark, and she still doesn't thank me. But she says she's going to drive the injured man to the hospital, and she drives off with the injured man who still seems to be giving the thumbs up. (I did say Saturday was jam-packed, so other things did happen. So many that I might leave them for another day and another post. Much too late in the night and too much effort trying to compose something that entails a kitten stuck in an air-con vent, a wedding dinner which was actually a pleasure to attend, and oh, bumping into Sim Wong Hoo and shouting iPod!).

Surf stop: reflexive disorder: saturday stupidity (post)

iTunes' party shuffle is playing a copy of: C'mon Aussie C'mon - Shannon Noll - C'mon Aussie C'mon, of which I have the original CD and therefore didn't steal music.

Humdrum

I rediscovered the concept of saving today, because I was calculating how much I'd have to save in order to buy iSomething else from Apple other than the iShuffle: A large chunk. There's one thing that Apple doesn't make and that's the iDiot, and Creative has almost cornered the market with that, although they're facing stiff competition from the Chinese makers of a 'Swiss' Army Knife that's got a built-in fork and spoon. (I don't have a pic of it, but I saw it once: fold out the fork on one end, fold out the spoon on the other, and hey presto.... fuck.) Apart from that, I didn't do much contemplating today except that there are few things better than a bowl of Nong Shim instant noodles with an egg and four slices of salami. As my granny would say, it was very 'Kiam Tok Tok', which, loosely translated, means 'Salty like heck'. Yes, it was a run-of-the-mill-got-blackout-in-KL-day. But there's this one coffee shop where the auntie called me 'Xiao Di' instead of 'Uncle', so I wasn't as grumpy as I normally would be on a day like this. SK-III Turbo Facial Mask for really really dry skin. 100% edible.

Surf stop: Badly drawn girl v2.0

iTunes' party shuffle is playing a copy of: The weight - Jimmy Barnes - Flesh and Wood, of which I have the original CD and therefore didn't steal music.

Hope: Tsunami Relief Fundraising Project

click for details The local glitterati do what they do best, by being themselves. And they've come together and recorded (in fact, they were still in the studio yesterday - the likes of Aaron Mat Stud Aziz et al) a CD of songs for to sell to you all. The CD costs $20 and will be on sale this Saturday, 15th January 2005 at Plaza Singapura, where the same said glitterati will be there, performing the songs they recorded and hopefully some more. This concert is hosted by Irene Ang, but don't be put off by that, because she means well, and it was her company's idea to put this together. And before you ask, yes, 100% of proceeds will go to the Singapore Red Cross. And before you ask any further, no, local celebrities without a slimming centre endorsement don't make that much money. My big fat and long grapevine tells me that local songstress (gawd I hate that word) Stefanie Sun was very eager to contribute to this CD but her record company has serious reservations about it, and at this moment, I'm not sure if she's on the CD or not. The bastards. So, whether they can sing or not, your very own local celebrities will grace the plaza at Plaza Singapura, and they include: Allan Wu, Nadya Hubbahubbagalung, Melody Chen (nominative determinism, of course can sing lah!) CCCRush (who? they win Talentime 2001 leh!), Pug Jelly (I also dunno), and Mediacorp Artistes (who lah? Mediacorp very big now leh, cheebye! Who wrote this damned copy?! My former colleagues? No wonder lah! Anyone who's worked there before is fucked up, I tell yer!) Go buy the CD, ask your friends to buy it. If it's good, can rip and put in your iPod, if it's bad, hey presto, drinks coaster. Red Cross still gets your $20, and some more help will get on their way to the victims of The Tsunami. My brother's business partners are sponsoring the event too, and my brother might be there snapping photos, so, if you're there, ask him nicely and he might take a pic of you with your favourite celeb. But first you better buy the CD, else he won't even bother.

Surf stop: Peking Duck

iTunes' party shuffle is playing a copy of: Stand By Me - Ry Cooder - Chicken Skin Music, of which I have the original CD and therefore didn't steal music.

The Man from UNCLE

Yes, I have pre-CNY anxiety. But that's probably not why I haven't been sleeping properly this year. I have a new worry about CNY though. I'm beginning to worry I'm turning into one of them 'uncles' who'll ask the young 'uns dumb questions they'll post later on their blogs. Such as, hey, JC orientation still on right? Did you get taupoked? So what is this Music Television? Do you hang out at the Heeren? You got Friendster profile? I got Friendster also! Want to add me? In fact, just last Friday, the auntie at the coffee shop called me 'Uncle' three times and asked me if I wanted to eat popiah. See lah! Stingy a bit, want to have cheap beer at a coffee shop, and hey presto, you're an 'Uncle'. Uncle Miyagi ate two Not every CNY you get FX sitting in the back seat of yer car! CNY 2001

Surf stop: BohemianPhilosophy

iTunes' party shuffle is playing a copy of: And Your Bird Can Sing - The Beatles - Anthology 2 - Disc 1, of which I have the original CD and therefore didn't steal music.

My son keeps playing internet games

That was the search phrase used on Google by an obviously concerned parent yesterday, and somehow this glob appeared on the results pages. Funny, that. So, you kiddies out there, watch out, don't play so much, your parents are very up to date on matters pertaining to technology and they know what you're up to. I tell you, they really read up and research extensively. My aunts, uncles and miscellaneous older relatives all like to ask known authorities on things to do with technology, and every Chinese New Year, they'd ask me, because I am a known authority on things to do with technology. "Wah, this ingterneck very good ah? No need to write letter anymore, just emu can already! You have emu? You emu me lah! I have emu! I have hotmew! You emu me to auntie underscore lilly at hotmew dock com lah! I check my emu every day one! What is your emu?" This was maybe two New Years ago. Last year was: "I have brogbang! My grandchurren all oversea also got brogbang! Can talk and see each other, you know!?" This year it could very well have to do with blogging, seeing as my mug's been on the telly and on the papers, and some family friends have already been asking about blogging (No, auntie, blogging is not just for teeng agers.) Better than the aunties twittering on about "Boy ah, why not married yet? Why no girlfriend?" (Because I still want to get ang pow from you, is why, auntie). Then again, it could very well turn out to be: "Boy ah, why not married yet? Why no girlfriend? Use ingterneck lah! My grandson always use ingterneck! ICQ lah, IRC lah, Messenger lah, all can make friends what! Ingterneck good you know? Now got brogbang, can talk and see each other also you know?!" Auntie, I don't have webcam. "Why no webcam? I have webcam you know?! Webcam and brogbang!" Shudder. (Shudder, sekali Auntie Lilly read this blog, tomorrow sure got emu from her.) Part of George Bush's $10,000 donation

Surf stop: Antipixel

iTunes' party shuffle is playing a copy of: Pebble Beach - Vince Guaraldi Trio - Jazz Impressions Of A Boy Named Charlie Brown, of which I have the original CD and therefore didn't steal music.

Ang Pow Gong Xi Ni

I don't know why exactly, but Chinese New Year music drives me batty, especially when I'm doing grocery shopping. The selection of music at Cold Storage makes me want to pick up a tin of biscuits and hurl it at wherever I think the loudspeakers are. Gongxi gongxi gongxi your head lah! I was told off on the phone by a friend for sounding grumpy and sian. You'd be sian too if you had to work all weekend (and miss a long anticipated brunch organised by Myrick and attended by the finalists of the Asia Blog Awards Singapore Category 2004 - sorry guys, beer on me next time). You'd be so sian you'd join the Church of Siantology. Year of the Cock's coming soon, but I dunno if things will get better though. Church of Siantology Logo

Surf stop: Deliriousdreams (heh heh)

iTunes' party shuffle is playing a copy of: The Good in Goodbye - Cerys Matthews - Cockahoop, of which I have the original CD and therefore didn't steal music.

And the winner by a country mile and a half is...

Asia Blog Awards 2004: Best HK Blog
Best Mainland China Blog
Best Korea Blog
Best Taiwan Blog
Best Singapore Blog
Best Malaysia Blog
Best Thai Blog
Best Indonesia Blog
Best Japan Blog
Best Philippines Blog
Best India Blog
Best Bangladesh Blog
Best Pakistan Blog
Best Vietnam Blog
Best Central Asian Blog

Best Newcomer 2004
Best Designed Blog

Funniest Blog
Best Non-Asian (Foreign) Blog
Best Political Blog
Best Essayist
Best Journal/Diary
Best Photoblog

Xiaxue didn't win! Xiaxue didn't win! She's doing a Fiona Xie! She's doing a Fiona Xie! (OK, I'm trying my darndest to hype this up into a Channel 8/Starstic Awards frenzy). Congratulations all winners! I'll win next time, as soon as they've got a category called 'Best Blog with Blue Background, Yellow Headers, White Text, iTunes Auto Info, Cricket & Rugby News And Written By Mr Miyagi'.

iTunes' party shuffle is playing a copy of: Crossroads - Ry Cooder - Crossroads, of which I have the original CD and therefore didn't steal music.

Work still in progress

From the Sydney Morning Herald:

At Banda Aceh airport yesterday a German air officer was trying to find out who could arrange slots for aeroplanes carrying a field hospital, while Australian and US air force personnel began building a temporary plywood air traffic control tower that has no radar. Banda Aceh's air traffic control chief conceded the ongoing problems but said many were beyond his control because the airport was not set up for the 160 helicopter and plane movements a day. "It's difficult getting planes out of Medan because the apron is full and the same thing happens here," he said.

But help is coming because our boys and girls are on the job:

The MATC Tower, jointly owned by the Singapore Armed Forces (SAF) and the Civil Aviation Authority of Singapore (CAAS), was sent to Banda Aceh today via a Republic of Singapore Air Force (RSAF) C-130 transport aircraft. The control tower at Banda Aceh airport had sustained damages after the earthquake and tsunami on 26 Dec 04, reducing the number of aircraft the airport can handle for humanitarian relief flights. The MATC Tower will help increase the handling capacity for flights.

There's still a lot to do, and there's still a lot to coordinate on the ground. Because already the UN is copping some flak:

At the same time, US officials were briefing journalists about the lack of a UN presence at the airport in Banda Aceh. "Look around and see who's present, and you will also see who's missing," said one. "I think you can read between the lines. They [the UN] have their compound in town, their cars, but are they getting food out? Are they setting up clinics?"

Surf stop: Comics by Jampot

iTunes' party shuffle is playing a copy of: Il Proprio Fine - Erna Hemming - , of which I have the original CD and therefore didn't steal music.

As popular as the bookstore with the very loud cinema ad

Maybe I've had as good a chuckle as when I read the quote 'If English was good enough for Jesus, it's good enough for you', but Xiaxue's latest get-back at one of her detractors, in her own inimitable way (don't argue ok, I say inimitable means inimitable) has got me chuckling again. Remember to scroll down to the post proper if you've already seen her photo before. Meanwhile, back in Safetypore, I've been vacillating between slamming corporations for being stingy and lauding the Armed Forces for doing a good job, and in the time in between, I've been mulling over whether I, personally, could do more. I'm not very good at mulling, but one of my online friends is, and she's again gotten what I feel down pat. You go, girl, you're the Mull of Kintyre. There. Another tune to stick in your head for your effort. On another matter altogether, voting for the Asia Blog Awards 2004 has closed, and results will be posted on Saturday. To say the winner of the category in which this blog was nominated was a foregone conclusion would be a big understatement, so I won't say it. Congratulations Mr Brown. I am really very surprised and flattered to have been nominated, and always expected to be an also-ran, so not coming in stone motherless last is a bonus. In fact, if my last name were Shaw, I'd be Also-Ran Shaw. Thank you all nonetheless for having nothing better to do and voting for me. I love youse all! (Of course, there's a down side to the relative increase in popularity. Some friends of mine (online and in the flesh) have stopped blogging cold, but they're still keeping a journal on Microsoft Word, citing the unwanted traffic to their blogs from mine. Hogwash! A blog's a blog's a blog. You waaaant people to read you. Come back, you, you and you.) This is the Winter Sonata of our discontent. Some Korean dude/chick tries to translate this blog into Hanggul. Mianhae, don't think it makes sense imnida.

Surf Stop: Seoul to Soul

iTunes' party shuffle is playing a copy of: Wonderful - Annie Lennox - Bare, of which I have the original CD and therefore didn't steal music.

Five days gone

So the first work week of the year rolls on, and at least some of us got off to a colourful start. Should get me some German housemates. Then again, better not. I'm still recovering from my flatmates from five years ago. But yes, I've been a busy man this week, so busy that even LMD says I've been a busy man, because I've declined her invitation to drinkalittle several times in the last week, non-alcoholic beverages included. I did treat myself to a quick beer on the way home though, and there's no better quick beer than a Hoegaarden Forbidden Fruit. One is enough to smack you in the face. You can get a bottle at NTUC Fairprice for $4.20, but I won't, because I'm still demonising this 'cooperative'. I've been busy enough not to have seen my family till Wednesday evening, when my mother asked me, 'eh, why you cut your hair like that?', and before I could answer, she asked me how much money my 'celebrity friends' donated to the tsunami charities. So I told her I cut my hair like that to save on shampoo. Then the maid did something that didn't please her, so I was left alone to slink away unnoticed from the dinner table. Some mothers are funny like that, you know? Yes, like I said, I've been busy, and I'm so busy some friends tell me if I keep this up, all my chakras will be blocked, and that won't be good for me. (I told them I've never liked chakras, not even in fish head curry.) But like a bumper sticker I once saw, I owe, I owe, it's off to work I go. It's now or never. Damned green light takes forever at the junction of Dunearn Road and Eng Neo Avenue.

Surf stop: Yongfook.com - The Japanese Food Blog Now With 42% More Death Wish

iTunes' party shuffle is playing a copy of: The Thrill Is Gone - Nina Simone - Tomato Collection, of which I have the original CD and therefore didn't steal music.

Sight for sore eyes, sound for sore ears

Samantha, Sam for short, called me as I was completing my previous blog entry, and immediately launched into a tirade about me changing my phone number. "I had your number memorized for the past two years, now I have to scroll down to check if it's the right person I'm calling, can you change back to your old number?!", she ranted. Normally, I'd shout back at Sam, such is the fiesty nature of our relationship. We love each other a lot like that. But Sam went on to tell me she'd come home from Phuket on the 29th, and that she was mostly sheltered from all death and devastation because her hotel was more or less on a hill. She said it was a most bizarre scene the days following the tsunami because life carried on at the hotel she was at. The pool was open and used by guests from the day after Boxing Day, still ringed with languid sunbathers. When she left on the 29th, Phuket's airport seemed just a little more crowded than usual, with the occasional injured person being wheeled through the hall, and the only other significant difference being the use of a previously blank wall for the posting of missing persons' notices. So, I didn't shout back at Sam. And Sam wasn't upset that neither myself nor any of her friends knew she was in Phuket. It would've been odd had we gone the 'Omigod are you alright were you hurt' course of conversation, so I guess that's why we didn't. I merely thanked her for calling, and we ended our phone call after she said she'd chat with me again soon. You go, boys!

Surf stop: No trespassing beyond this point

iTunes' party shuffle is playing a copy of: 島唄 - 夏川りみ - てぃだ ～太陽・風ぬ想い～, of which I have the original CD and therefore didn't steal music.

Good for something

I've always told my non-NS or foreign friends that the Singapore Armed Forces are good at organising stuff, and they're doing a sterling job at the moment at tsunami disaster sites in Thailand and Indonesia. Of course, if you've watched the news, so are the armed forces of the US and Australia. The Bronco ATTC (All-Terrain Tracked Carrier) was launched by Singapore Technologies in 2000, and my Army unit's been using it for various roles, like field ambulance and support vehicle to our armoured infantry combat team, but my fellow troopers and I have always wondered about the feasibility and cost-effectiveness of a such a lumbering automobile with a thin non-armour plated skin. Now, at least, it seems to have met its purpose. This ugly thing is probably one of the few vehicles that can carry people and supplies over debris-strewn areas and damaged roads, and the Navy's RSS Persistance & RSS Endurance are carrying dozens of these to Meulaboh in Sumatra. Onya Singapore Technologies, Republic of Singapore Air Force, Republic of Singapore Navy, Singapore Civil Defence Force, SAF Medical Corps, Singapore Combat Engineers. Don't say I never say you good. COE drop liao, but road tax still high for these babies

Surf stop: Give me spirit fingers, dammit!

iTunes' party shuffle is playing a copy of: You Can Depend on Me - KD Lang/Tony Bennett - A Wonderful World, of which I have the original CD and therefore didn't steal music.

Good job, well done

This is an excellent mantra:

"I didn't come here to think. I came here for you to think, then tell me what to think."

Oh, but there are people who think. Or rather, people who have been taught to think, and think that a blog is all about balanced viewpoints and if it isn't, it should be filled with comments that it isn't, oh shame. I agree that I have not praised any corporation or government for their tsunami aid efforts, and I'd love to see blogs that do. Send me links. Economy Rice to the rescue

Surf stop: Fire in the hole

iTunes' party shuffle is playing a copy of: Streets Of Philadelphia - Bruce Springsteen - Greatest Hits, of which I have the original CD and therefore didn't steal music.

Hubbing it for an essential cause

This is one proposed regional hub I support, when previously I would've backed a push to cap the number of hubs (hubcap, geddit, geddit?):

Singapore offers to be UN regional disaster coordination hub SINGAPORE : Singapore has offered to be the United Nations' regional tsunami disaster coordination centre, extending its offer of not just military bases and facilities but also office space, too .

I'd support the regional hub proposal even more if the office space were at the brand spanking new building on One Marina Boulevard. (I'm still watching you, you NTUC!) Great place for a hub, doncha think? Meantime, Onya, Jessie Maulder.

Surf stop: Di Bawah Rang Ikang Kering

iTunes' party shuffle is playing a copy of: Che Gelida Manina - Russell Watson - Encore, of which I have the original CD and therefore didn't steal music.

Leftovers

I tried telling Steve that the New Year isn't going to be as bleak as he thought it would be, and he went, 'Oh yeah? That's what you said last year (2003), and look what happened?'. Then he tells me how miserably stupid he thinks he's been, because he waited till past midnight to send 300+ New Year's SMSs, thereby using up his free SMS quota for the month of January. I wanted to say 'I don't have time for you, Steve', but a friend's a friend's a friend. And one day I might get as morose as him, and might need someone to irritate. But bless poor morose Steve, because he mustered enough leftover energy to make a donation to the Tsunami relief charities. Onya Steve, you have one redeeming factor. Maybe the girl you're not quite seeing will see that in you, and you might just get some New Year's nookie. There was however, a very nice New Year's Day dinner at another friend's friend's, and there was a good spread of Christmassy food, a bunch of people I didn't know and didn't have the energy to talk much to, and a large plasma screen television that was screening some foreign soccer match between Liverpool and Chelsea. The bunch of people I didn't know were watching the large plasma screen television, while some others I knew were replying to SMSs from last night on their phones, while another was reading The Da Vinci Code. Then the soccer match finished and the host turned off the large plasma screen television and announced that it was time for Pictionary. But because my work year starts today, and I have some work to prepare at home and a mother to fetch to church in the morning, I excused myself from the fun and came home, turned off my phone, worked a bit, slept a bit, woke up, sat here at the computer and forced a blog post out of my arse. "Doc! I'm very worried 'cos my stools are a little yellow!"

Surf stop: Life in Singapore (not work-safe)

iTunes' party shuffle is playing a copy of: Life On Mars - David Bowie - The Best of David Bowie 1969/1974, of which I have the original CD and therefore didn't steal music.

Warm and fuzzy post for the new year

iTunes' party shuffle is playing a copy of: Love Comes Tumbling - U2 - B-Sides 1980-1990, of which I have the original CD and therefore didn't steal music.

My all-time favourite sports journalist has a round-up of the best sporting moments of 2004 in his column 'The Fitz Files', in the Sydney Morning Herald, and his vote for sportsperson of the year is rationalised thus:

TFF first heard of him in March, when one of our spies reported being in Newcastle to see the Roosters vs Knights game, when he noticed in the half-time mini-game between a couple of under-8 teams that one of the young players had physical disabilities, probably cerebral palsy. "But there he was, running around having the time of his life," our spy reported. "That's just great," you might say, and it is, but what's more significant is the way the members of his own side and that of the opposition treated this courageous little bloke. In just about every set of six his team had the ball it was passed to him to have a run. The opposition, obviously aware that he couldn't genuinely compete on an even playing field and in the true spirit of what junior sport should be about, of course tackled him, but in a manner that was certain not to inflict any harm on our man. On one occasion, he even managed to off-load a ball to a teammate who picked the ball up and scored a try. The crowd loved it and he received warm applause from both his own team and that of the opposition. Intrigued, TFF found out more about him. His name, as it turned out, is Harry Rodgers - referred to as "H" by his teammates - and he played for the mighty Kotara Bears junior side in the under-9s. I was advised by his coach that Harry has a condition known as amyoplasia, which affects the joints and muscles and in Harry's case means he wears splints on his legs and has had to adapt as best he can with minimal use of his hands. When playing football, Harry catches and passes with his elbows and the cooperation of other teams has been fantastic. They allow the coach to go onto the field when Harry is playing, because when he has been tackled he needs some help getting to his feet. It also turned out that one of the avowed ambitions of his teammates this year, beyond winning the best they can, was to get Harry over the try line or bust. Alas, with 30 seconds to go in the final game of the season, against a strong Wests team, that ambition had remained unfulfilled. And yet ... And yet, then the ball came to our Harry, on the left side of the field, about 30 metres out. There was still a chance! With all his teammates forming a kind of protective cocoon around him, the whole team charged for the line with Harry in the middle. The young lads of Wests - playing with exactly the right spirit and aware of the significance of the moment - did their more or less best to break through the cocoon, but one way or another Harry crashed over the line for a wonderful TRY!, and was immediately awash in the exhilaration of both teams. And still he wasn't done. As the final bell sounded, it was Harry who, having practised his kicking all week, lined up the conversion ... GOAAAL! He was carried from the field on the shoulders of his teammates, and taken to the cheering crowd and the embrace of his tearful mother. So Harry Rodgers, you are TFF's sportsperson of the year, having inspired more TFF readers than any other sportsperson appearing in these pages. We dips our lids. On ya, Harry, Kotara Bears, Wests and the whole Newcastle junior comp.

A safe and peaceful new year to all of you.

Surf stop: The Playpen for My Thoughts