Gold!

When I woke up this morning I felt suicidal. I had to clear my annual physical fitness test. After a quick breakfast of coffee (holy water) and eggs, I dragged my weary body out of the door. I thought it would be an arduous formality.

Surprisingly, there were not many people taking the test with me - I estimated a few hundred. The registration was fast and efficient and the briefing by the chief physical instructor was succinct. The waiting time was only 30 minutes or so (anyone who has served the army would know this is extraordinarily fast.)

So onwards to the static stations: sit-ups, jumping, chin-ups and sprinting. Everything was electronic. You had a number tag, which had a slot you must put your ID card into and then you had to place the whole thing at the test station you were taking. Do your best (or worst). Your result would be registered electronically. The instructors were only there to make sure nobody tried to be "creative."

I nearly scored full marks for the test, but for the jumping. On my first attempt I was denied full points when the system registered a "fault line." Apparently the toe of my boot had brushed the starting line. My second attempt was poorer, but it was still enough to secure me the points necessary in my pursuit of gold. I could have made another attempt, out of pride, but there is no difference between winning 1:0 and winning 3:0. You still get three points.

One champion did around 20 repetitions at the chin-up station. From the effortless way he went up and down, this human yoyo might have done 30 if the attending instructor had not told him to stop. Apparently the system had problems with the excessively high count. I say this guy was nuts. Even if he was aiming for full points he could have just done 12. Why not save his energy for the 1.5 mile run? I guess strange people are everywhere.

Within 20 to 30 minutes I had cleared the four stations with the minimum of fuss. What next was the BIG ONE.

The 1.5 mile route was conducted on the ground floor of a multi-storey carpark. The person who thought of this should be promoted. Unlike at most other test centres, people could take their 1.5 mile run regardless of the weather. In addition, the terrain was flat and there were no spills, depressions, crevices and other conditions that may upset a runner.

I felt like giving up during my second lap but my need for cash pushed me on. There was also the additional motivation of bragging about it to my colleague when I turn up for work on Monday (We male animals are egoistic creatures.) It was not my best performance - I needed a lap or two to get acquainted with the route - but I got what I came for.

When I got the result slip which confirmed I can add an entry in my Account Receiveable, I felt a measure of relief. Surely, for me to do remedial training just because I missed the test would have been an utter travesty.

My unbeaten streak continues, and when I am in another age category the test will be even easier for me. As I am typing this in my university library's computer room, I feel sexy and beautiful. (Unfortunately there are not many sexy and/or beautiful broads around. Hell, in fact there are none.)

I shall go for football soon. I shall play my usual game, which is negative football and quite like tennis. Ball comes to me, ball goes back. Roger Federer should come and see me play. The things he would pick up will help him cement his place as the greatest ever in tennis. I hope there are good-looking broads in SP. I hope to see the balls bounce and may they be big, firm and beautifully spherical.

Rant and Rant

While updating the computer system, I saw the hourly wages of the people working for the Editorial department. They are earning little over than $20 per hour, and even the contract staff are getting this amount. One can easily get over $3k a month correcting grammar and spelling mistakes. Comfortable environment, conducive organizational culture, cordial relationships and a cushy salary; what more can one ask for?

For the umpteen time I cursed my academic choices. I should have taken an English Language degree like XH. With the mostly mediocre competition and the almighty Curve, I figure I would not have any difficulty graduating. Maybe a first-class honours would be out of reach, but surely a second-upper is not beyond me. It’s still pretty decent. I may hate Shakespeare, literary studies and all that post-modernism, romanticism bullshit, but hey, they cannot be worse than the fucking Business course I am enduring right now. No online quizzes, the luxury of doing assignments solo, and no fucking video presentation. No maths as well. Just bullshit your way through. My kind of degree course.

Of course, the grass is always greener on the other side. If I were taking English Language, maybe I would be bitching about it and going green-eyed at Business students. Maybe, maybe not. In life we can’t always have what we want. Life’s a bitch and then you die. I had thought that I would be happier in a Mass Communication course. I mean, I would give a decade of my life to be paid for writing about football. Champions League matches in the morning, a hastily written match report, bourbon in the coffee, typing more bullshit for the post match commentary, three sheets to the wind while surfing porn until the next match comes along. Or covering sex scandals for Wanbao. Damn good job.

Anyway, I was a bit affected by what I saw. I felt like a fucking coolie. How much am I paid, staring at the screen for hours and risking my perfect eyesight? I kept switching back to the part of the program where the hourly wages were shown. It was as if I am being masochistic by punishing myself. Then I decided to see how much my colleagues in the Editorial department are earning, but Singapore employees are not included in the system.

Before lunch I remarked to a colleague how much people are earning in Editorial. She told me that they are qualified lawyers who decided that editing legal textbooks are better than practising law. She wondered why they gave up their practice and I replied that lawyers here are overworked and underpaid. Anyway, that is not important. The important thing is that I should have gone to college and studied Law. Okay. Maybe not. Seeing how my Business Law modules nearly relegated me, that doesn’t seem such a hot idea. But the grass is greener on the other side, like I said.

I don’t think a Law degree is a must for editing law textbooks. Most of the time it’s just grammar. The fancy Latin words they love to throw around so much in the legal sphere, ultra vires, bona fide etc, won’t give a decent English Language graduate much of a problem either. (XH, if you are reading this, quit your fucking teaching job and apply to be an editor in a book company/publishing house. Beats having to deal with bloody irritating parents and their obnoxious brats.)

True, $3,000 may not be a lot by any stretch of the imagination. In Canada a waiter can easily earn this amount. Even in Asia, there are many mediocre people earning much more. But when you consider that some skilled technicians here are earning $1.3K and ITE graduates (far better than their higher-educated polytechnic counterparts if you ask me) are offered $1K for doing a 12 hour shift six-days week job, something is fucking wrong. It is obscene. It is obscene not because the people in the Editorial are overpaid. It is obscene because people here are having their every drop of blood squeezed out and getting paid peanuts for it. What the fuck are the trade unions doing? The living costs are getting higher and higher but the wages, especially those belonging to the bottom to middle rungs are stagnant and in some cases, depreciating. Oh I forgot! We have no trade unions. Tsk tsk. People here are just commodities. Once they are past their sell-by dates they are basically like a turtle turned on its back – fucked.


My mood wasn’t helped when I logged on the stupid army website to check my reservist status (read: reslavery). To my absolute horror, I found that I have to clear the goddamn annual physical fitness test before my birthday, which is two months away. If I hadn’t checked I might have been later charged by the army for missing the dateline and then made to do remedial training with the rest of those sorry sods who can’t make it. Imagine a Brazilian supermodel standing in the midst of a truckload of Singapore car queens and you get the picture.

I am disgusted at having my time wasted like this. Instead of making me wake up early on a Saturday morning just so I could go to take some stupid physical fitness test in some stupid obscure army camp, they should just give me the money. I always get gold anyway. So just excuse me for this redundant exercise and give me the $400 so that I can go and get myself some much needed shades. It is a hostile country that I am living in – the sun here can burn your corneas. As if that is not enough I have to face the damn screen for hours every damn day. Hell, if I don’t get some shades or those fancy Transitions eyewear soon I may fucking go blind.

And one last thing. The people in this cuntry are ugly, and getting uglier as we speak. Hell, even the foreigners are looking worse. The women are short and flat, and the men weak and unimposing. There must be something in the water here. It could be the damn sun as well. And let’s not forget the stress. I foresee when the population swell to 6.5 million, abominations will walk the streets en masse. Our already inferior gene pool will degenerate further when inferior people breed with even more inferior people. Under such circumstances, it is better not to procreate. Sometimes being a responsible parent is not to be a parent in the first place.

This is PASSION.

Images courtesy of Bluekipper.com





I don't think we can put up banners like these when we go to a football game eh?

What a boring cuntry. Another reason to leave this fucking shithole.

A Tribute to Monica Bellucci

It is time somebody write a tribute to Monica Bellucci. Michael Jackson may have passed on, but enough has been said about that legend, so let us move on, and contemplate a legend that is fortunately, still with us.

The first time I saw Monica Bellucci – it was in Malena – I truly fell in love. I had never beheld such superb acting skills. Bellucci gave her character life, every piece of dialogue she spoke was heartfelt, and her portrayal of the war widow driven to desperation heartrending. I left the cinema humbled and forever a willing supplicant to this most beauteous of goddesses.

Words cannot adequately describe her charisma. Her screen presence is legendary. She can brighten an insipid script like no other. All the CGI and the convoluted plots combined can never add up to her natural grace and talent as she sashays her way to cinematic perfection.

Her curves can make a blind man see, and her smile turns the darkest night into the brightest day. The form of the most tempting succubus, and radiant with the soul of the purest angel. A one woman Victoria’s Secret fashion show - the Angels look like imposters next to this seductress. Belluci truly embodies the epitome of beauty. She is the perfect woman – all others pale in comparison.

All women should aspire to be like her. If all women were like this, there would be no frustration. Wars will cease, poverty will become a thing of the past, natural disasters will not occur, and universal love and humanistic values will reign supreme unto generations.

Her qualities as an actress are impeccable, and her virtues as a woman beyond reproach. An intellectual’s muse, and a philistine’s fantasy. Had they set eyes on Bellucci, Helen of Troy would have wept in despair, and Narcissus would never have fallen in love with his own image. Men of all races, nations, religions, classes and dispositions will stand united as they pay homage to this living Aphrodite.

Hollywood should be condemned for offering her only bit-part roles in mediocre movies. Tears of the Sun, The Matrix, The Brothers Grimm… - these do not do justice to her immeasurable talent. If there is any justice, Monica Bellucci should have made a clean sweep of every award every time she stars in a movie.

The fact that Tara Reid and Cameron Diaz get more screen time and roles than Belluci in Hollywood movies is a vicious indictment of Hollywood’s detestable parochial attitude. American actresses are too often overrated and it is time the American directors, whose brains have gone south along with their overfed bellies, learn to give foreign film actresses, especially Bellucci, the recognition they so richly deserve.

Monica Belluci should be in Transformers 3. The sight of her will transform any emasculated and impotent man into the most virile Adonis. Even robots will short-circuit themselves as they realize the truth of the most superb piece of engineering before them.

It is often said that a woman depreciates with age. Not so for Monica Bellucci. I would say she is one of the rare few who appreciate as they become older, but to do so would be to put a value on something that is priceless. She is The MLIF of the film industry, and when she becomes a grandmother she will surely be The GLIF. Her timeless beauty puts women half her age to shame. Her smile can launch a thousand ships, and her voice makes them sail.

The world will never see the likes of such perfection again. Each film by Bellucci and every appearance she make should be cherished and treated like the most precious of treasures. It will be a black day when she retires from acting. May her daughter inherit every quality of her talented mother. Let the divine essence of the Bellucci line live forever, so that it inspires future generations as it inspires the current.

Victory at Last!

After the 9:0 fiasco at the start of the year, AS23 – if I had my way, Perverts FC – rebound to record an unlikely 3:2 win.

AS23’s direct style of play pinned the Bonitos in their own half in the first 45 minutes. The Bonitos were largely restricted to punting long hopeful balls forward. With their dominance, AS23 created many chances, but for some erratic finishing, could have found themselves 3:0 ahead within the first 30 minutes.

The weather deteriorated and the wet conditions caused both set of players to play at a fast and furious pace. The pressure mounted and it seemed ominous that the floodgate, like the weather, opened inevitably.

When the goal came, it was from the most unlikely of sources. Kumar, who was filling in at rightback, arrived at the far post to finish with aplomb. It was a well deserved reward for a player who had been sterling throughout the game.

Not to be outdone, Joe charged into the penalty area from the left to blast the ball past a hapless Bonitos keeper. A fantastic goal.

The second half was delayed due to the rain. After the lightning risk was cleared, the game resumed.

Both teams changed their personnel at half time but in the early exchanges, it was Bonitos who proved more effective in their tactical switch.

Within five minutes, they were levelled. AS23 made a mess defending a straightforward corner and were duly punished. Then Bonitos’ left winger tore down the left flank, and with the entire AS23 backline in attendance, somehow still found sufficient space to squeeze his shot past the AS23 custodian.

Worse was to come when a Bonitos striker was adjudged to have been fouled in the box. However, much to the delight of AS23, the resulting penalty hit the post.

More drama was to follow. Great work on the left wing found the AS23 winger cut in. Just when he was about to turn however, he was tripped. AS23 wasted the spot kick.

With the game heading for a draw, the action was end-to-end. Either side could have snatched it. The Bonitos goalie made a miraculous save to keep out a header from a yard out. Where tenacious defending failed, the AS23 keeper came to his side’s rescue with a couple of smart saves. Wasteful finishing from both sides brought howls of frustration from the touchlines.

The substitutes from AS23, by this time had began to exert their influence. The pitched midfield battle swung slightly in AS23’s advantage. A free kick was awarded 25 yards on the left centre of the pitch. With a dramatic swing of his right boot, Shineboi sent his side into raptures. The sheer pace and the skid of the ball on the slippery surface proved too much for the Bonitos keeper to handle.

AS23 endured a few nervy moments, but they held on to record an improbable victory.

Truly, and I say it again here, this is better than sex.

Long Live the Curve

I have avoided the drop! Cries of jubilation! The sheer relief! Unbelievable! I checked the table a couple of times. Aye, my eyes did not deceive me, my feverish mind sufficiently clear, barely could I suppress my elation, as I stared at the table again, again and again.

It’s like Hull City all over again. Hopeless for most of the season, unable to lift themselves even on the final day against a second string ManUre side, but they stayed up because their rivals lost. Undeserved, but how they celebrated at the final whistle.

It doesn’t matter how I did it, but I won’t care. The result is all that matters. It has been a long and torturous season. At times I didn’t enjoy the rub of the green. I was blatantly robbed and I could barely rouse myself for the final game, so demoralized I was. I was mediocre, I admit that, but like Phil Brown and all who love Hull City, it doesn’t matter if you play like trash, You can go without a win in 20 matches but if at the start of the season someone told me I would avoid relegation, I would have shaken his hands.

The celebrations will carry on long into the night. The pyrotechnics! The carnival, the dancing girls, the sheer madness and ineffable ecstasy! It had been most improbable, but I have beaten the drop. I shall be playing in the top flight next season. No doubt it’s a self-indulging fest, but hopeless or not, I don’t care. Just let me survive. I am shameless.

Truly, this is better than sex.

Mister B. Gone

Embark on an odyssey of wickedness with the demon Jakabok Botch. Bound within a book by powerful magics, the Botch pleads for his own destruction as he recounts his tale.

Wretched even by the standards of his infernal kin, the grotesque creature barely escapes the wrath of his merciless father and the hostile environs of his hellish home. Rescued by the demon Quitoon from a slow and agonizing death, the infernal pair makes their way in the mortal world, spreading strife wherever they go.

A strange twist of fate brings Botch to the obscure town of Mainz. Caught in a war between angels and demons, Botch finds himself on his own. Botch's propensity for getting himself into tight situations will astonish the reader. His inner struggles with himself, depraved at times, strangely endearing in others, is a fascinating dichotomy.

Although a fascinating read, this narration is a let-down due to its dearth of atrocities. The momentous event that nearly brought Armageddon is mundane and hardly worth the fuss. For all the potential of its theme, the story tapers off towards the end. It is a poor man’s Faust, and even then, not quite.

Despite its shortcomings, Mister B. Gone is a valiant effort by Barker to portray the human side even irredeemable evil has. Readers who have grown sick of heroic fantasy and tales of derring-do will find Mister B. Gone a villainously refreshing book.

Rating: 3/5

About Ed

Yesterday during football, Ed told us that 987 FM was organizing a beach party at Siloso Beach, Sentosa. As the entrance fee was free, it might be a good idea to go there to enjoy ourselves.

Shineboi thought it was a good idea and readily agreed to it. The Animal was non-committal because his girlfriend was conscious about prancing around on a beach in a bikini. (If I were a girl and had her figure I would feel the same as well.) Still, he could have gone ahead. I don’t know if he went but seriously, what is the point of having a girlfriend and losing your freedom as a result?

Anyway, The Idea was passed around the guys many times while we waited for our turn on the court. We joked about it, about the shit we would (or would not) do there, about the place overcrowded with smelly ‘blackies’, about how wild inebriated girls could get, the kind of shit high-school or college students would normally joke about when they are half-fantasizing, at the back of their mind, that ‘tonight I might just get lucky’.

Another guy said he wanted in. Considering the amount of discussion and the fact that it was to be on a Saturday night, the response was lukewarm. The reason is obvious: No girls. Why would a bloke want to go to a party, get squeezed in with the crowd, try to look like they are enjoying the company of his fellow blokes and ogling other people’s broads? It’s inexplicable.

Some people are not meant to be singles. Ed is one of them. He should get a girlfriend. Why go to some stupid beach party for no good reason other than to humour some secret need to score with some broads? It’s not like he’s going to walk up to one and ask for her number or something. What is so difficult about getting a girlfriend? True, some guys have this stupid mental block when they talk to girls, others are downright ugly, but if you have a bunch of friends who are sincere about helping you hook up, half the battle is won. Unfortunately, Ed does not seem to have any of such friends. Being his friends we have let him down. We sorry bastards.

I am not saying that he cannot get a partner – okay he cannot. To the Hells with the politically correct horseshit. I mean, this is a guy who just graduated with a degree in business (well-educated), went to Australia for a ‘road-trip’ (wild and romantic spirit) before he embarks on his career. A tight budget made him and his friends eat instant noodles (thrifty) while they were in Down Under, and when he returned he quarantined himself because he feared he had the swine flu (responsible).

Personality-wise he is not domineering or anal-retentive. He is just one of the boys, doing normal things, talking normal things and being normal. Hell, even his political facts and understanding of the totalitarian country he lives in are straight from the social studies textbook. Moderate, not overly critical, certainly not dumb, does sports, a teetotaler, no vices (at least not that I know of), a normal fellow. He may not be tall, dark and handsome, but he is certainly way beyond of what I looked like when I had my funny looking dental ASSets.

If ornery whoresons can find themselves a girl, I don’t see why such a morally upright (I mean this in a loose sense, taking into consideration our prevailing moral and social ‘values’) cannot ‘break the duck’. There is obviously something very wrong with the world. Or is it just our females?

I think women in general are too defensive. As Alex ‘Hitch’ Hitchens rants at Sarah Melas in Hitch, ‘Do you know why falling in love is so damn difficult? It’s because you women are so damn defensive!” ( cannot remember the exact line, but you get the point.) Some women think that a guy who talks to her is either tying to sell insurance, peddle Gawd to her or try to score with her. It has not occurred to their ROYAL HIGHNESS that the guy who talks to them may be just be doing what he appears to be doing - talk. Why slam the door straight in the guy’s face?

Maybe another reason why women behave like this (now I am referring to the local breed) is due to our culture. Contrary to what the regime would have you believe, Singapore is NOT a caring society. People are just commodities, they treat others like commodities, they think in terms of dollars and cents, they are afraid to lose and this applies in love as well. Forget about romantic love in this country. It’s all about pragmatism. No money no honey. From the evolutionary point of view this is not irrational. Females prefer good providers so that they can pass on their genes in relative safety. You may argue that females are getting more promiscuous so what of this evolutionary impulse. You are not wrong. However, there is a difference between finding a prick on a Saturday night for your five minutes of pleasure and finding a provider who is admittedly, more lasting, even in the modern day context of increasing divorce rate. The former is not taking any real chances, save pregnancy and STDs. There is normally no emotional baggage in a good fuck. In love people have to open up their life, and when you open up you risk getting hurt.

Having said that are many people happily (and not so happily) attached as we speak. There are also people who look upon every weekend with dread because they are lonely. Sad , but true. I don’t know about Ed. If he doesn’t play football with us every Saturday maybe he would be doing something else. I don’t know, but I am willing to put money on him staring at the four walls in abject fascination.

I see it in his eyes. Ed needs a girl. Somewhere out there is a suitable female for him and all he needs to do is to seek her out. Easier said than done, given his non-adventurous character. I think he just needs to let loose a bit. He does not seem to be very confident but lots of losers have gotten themselves laid. If they can score, why not Ed?

On a last note, I shall try to be a true friend and advertise his availability here on this obscure blog. I don’t expect success, but people do strike it rich in the lottery despite the odds.

At the risk of sounding like a bloody MSN pop-up ad:

Singapore, male, 25 years old, 1.7m, 55kg, degree in business, friendly, nice, sensitive, faithful, sporty, appreciates the simple pleasures in life. Looking for a nice girl.

Please leave your contact details in the Hate Mail or in the comments. You may also contact me at falloutmeow@gmail.com

All details will be kept strictly confidential.

Cell

H.G Wells would have been proud with this modern retelling of his classic War of the Worlds.

The world goes to Hell on the day Clay Riddell, a comic book artist, gets his big break. The Pulse turns cell phones into Weapons of Mass Destruction, causing their users to lose their memory and sanity.

After an initial bloody encounter, Riddell hooks up with Tom McCourt and Alice Maxwell. The friendship among the trio is punctuated with their individual anxieties. Here King does a superb job. His characters stand out with such vividness you experience their fears and the precious little joy they share as they comfort one another in a post-apocalyptic world.

Follow Riddell, as he finds different groups – the apt pupil and his master, and the ragtag group whom, like Riddell’s are bonded by the dire circumstances they find themselves . Their determination shows their fighting spirit, their care for one another bears testimony to their human character, which in spite of all the flaws, is a light in the dark days ahead.

As the world collapses and the afflicted, or Phonies, stalk the streets in murderous rage, where the people are forlorn and reduced almost to animals, the reader is forced to confront the possibility that our carefully cultivated and rigorously maintained society is no more than a flimsy façade, a dam that can crack any moment, leaving us to drown in its raging waters.

Unlike most King’s books, Cell is filled with scenes of violence and fiery destruction that will please any adrenaline junkie. The destruction of a flock of phone-crazies, followed by swift and brutal repercussion from their kind will have you on the edge of your seat. What sets the carnage apart from mere gore and splatter is the depth of feeling, be it crushing despondency or wild exhilaration that accompany the violence. The in-your-face horror does not diminish the story; it enhances it.

The evolution and subsequent de-evolution of the Phonies, are as darkly compelling as the deliberate charting of civilization’s rapid disintegration and the survivors’ desperation and hopelessness. In the world of the Phonies, the Normies are mad, the only cure to their condition conversion to insanity. One cannot help but be fascinated at how humans, having dominated the world for so long, are now merely cattle, yoked and used without a thought.

To some, the ending may be anti-climatic. Not so for me. King has got it perfectly in the final scene. What begins with hope, ends with hope. The open ending suggests a sequel, and I look forward to it.


Rating: 4/5

Fun with T & T

There are many things we can learn from tortoises and turtles.


The need to exercise. If this fella can do it, so can you lazy potato chip-munching slackers.




Such unwavering determination! This champion puts the rest of us to shame.




If grandma and grandpa can get it on, I don't see why we younglings can't.




I have heard of dildos, vibrators and other sex toys, but this is ridiculous.

Shoppie!

Seeing that my wardrobe was resembling something from a poor-house, I decided it was time for me to get some nice clothes. Fortunately the Singapore Sale was on, and the Lass and Miao happened to be free.

We first went to Causeway Point. We had a strange lunch at Pastamania, where the waitresses all went about their tasks with the vigor of zombies. It took them three tries to get our orders right. I thought they were paid like $2 an hour.

Then with the Lass leading the way, we went around the shops looking for clothes and other accessories. I bought a pair of sexy cute shoe laces and KIV some other items. When we were in the big departmental store there, XH arrived. I was torn between his fashion advice and the opinions the Lass expressed, but in the end, girl power won. You simply don’t argue with a woman when it comes to fashion. Women run the economy. If the bankers were all women we would never have this stupid economic crisis.

I am babbling – okay XH arrived before we went into the store. We had slop at the food court first. (I am 29 going on 92, so excuse my senility.)

Anyway, I got a brown tie and an office belt at the store. The four of us moved on to more shops. It was not my first time shopping with girls but I am always amazed at the variety of female accessories they sell. Necklaces, rings, bracelets, bands, watches, and other items that defy my understanding. It must be both fun and distressing being a woman. So many things to adorn yourself with, and all the colours must match. All the lovely baubles and sexy clothes. I am astonished that they can still retain their sanity!

After we decided we had enough of Causeway Point, we went to the mall next to Sembawang train station. I bought some T-shirts – okay the mall is called Northpoint – and the Lass and Miao helped me look for stuff. The Lass never stopped giving me advice on what to wear and for that I am really grateful. She found her “cool shoes” in the process of teaching a Neanderthal (that’s me). I hope she will get them eventually.

XH left halfway through our shopping. (Bugger still evades the issue of why he didn’t introduce his sexy cousin to me. Sigh…) The three of us went back to Woodlands and did more “see see look look”. We even had dinner together. I think the girls need to eat more. Youngsters need to grow big and strong.

After we got home, we had a conference, of sorts. I achieved the remarkable feat of taking myself wearing three different pairs of jeans and then submitting the photos to my two female panelists for their assessment. It was quite challenging. From where I placed my camera, a good shot of my legs was impossible without having a chair to elevate myself to the required height. If my Sony camera didn’t have a 10 second delay function, I would have to hop onto the chair and risk breaking my neck from a fall. I have done some crazy shit in my life. One more to add to the list.

We talked until two in the morning and then we met at Vivo City at eleven the next day. The Lass, Miao and I were suffering from sleep deprivation but some slop at Long John’s Silver replenished our energy a bit and we carried on our quest. Along the way we took a peek in another big store (like other BIG stores, its name eludes me). We did some shopping and I got a new wallet. My old wallet of five years had finally cracked at the seams and the timing was right for it to be retired.

While transferring the contents of my retired wallet to the new one, we had a look at each other’s university/poly and identification cards. The people in our photos didn’t resemble us one bit. The Lass and I looked like aunties, and Miao was plumper. They had a good laugh at my military and identification cards. I could never get a date back then, was the blunt of jokes and now that I have gotten my teeth fixed and a steel jaw for my agony, there was a sense of déjà vu that my looks could still elicit some guffaws.
The Lass and I were dying to our friend in a dress so we “psycho-ed” her into trying one. Hell, the woman has a waist women would kill for and she does not wear a dress that much. Heart pain lahhhhh…

Talking about trying clothes, I was quite the mannequin (a “cheapo” one in my opinion). The Lass examined me as an empress would at some rare beast and Miao offered her opinion with the air of a court adviser. It’s actually quite fun being fawned over by women, if I may say so myself. All the changing of clothes and the half-assed poses – I didn’t know it’s so much fun.

The Lass and Miao actually share similar tastes in fashion. I think they should shop together more often. It is a match made in the heavens and consummated in the shopping mall. Oh wondrous! I think there is something evolutionary about this “flocking” behavior but never mind, this is a topic for another day.

I thought I would never get anything red in my existence, given my hatred for my national flag and the Shite (for the uninitiated, this means Liverpool FC). Miao told me I didn’t have to give up red for this kind of reason. It’s a good point, but like my prejudice towards pink, this mindset takes time to change.

Or most of the time anyway. In a department store we suddenly saw some hot ties that made us wail that we didn’t come to the place earlier. And guess what? I got a RED tie. My two advisors saw it was beautiful, and I obeyed. (By the way, it’s really beautiful.) I even think I look irresistible to women if I wear it.

Miao even got herself a nice bag – I would swear it was made for her. And yeah, I also got myself an orange shirt – again, the opinions of my advisors carried much weight. If it hadn’t for Miao and the Lass I would never have been so adventurous in my shopping. If we do this on a regular basis I think I may become one of those metrosexual/ulbersexuals/David Beckham.

During the course of our adventure, I discovered that certain items like the EPILATOR and the TONGUE CLEANER do exist. The latter removes body hair by curling it and then pulling it out. (Why not just use a razor?) And the tongue cleaner – who invented these things anyway? They wanted to show me what this contraption looks like, but it was out of stock. OUT OF STOCK! You mean people actually buy these things?!

I will look like my real height if I bother to stand straight. Miao said I look 5 cm taller. Damn. No wonder people rolled their eyes in disbelief when I said I am 1.8m tall.

This is not related to clothes, but we went to the National Geographic shop. They sell really expensive items and I don’t know if people are crazy enough to buy it. Probably. They are even selling photography done by school students. Why not a photo-spread of Denise Milani then? These high-priced ivory-tower popinjays!

These two days have truly been momentous. I had never gone for shopping two days in a row and to cover the distance that we did and the time we spent, it is nothing short of incredible. I want to thank the Lass and Miao for their indefatigable energy, indomitable spirit, endless patience, excellent advice, and last but not least, being great fun.

Words that Touch the Heart

From Jialat. Enjoy.


Words From An Angmoh/Foreign Talent Who Despises Singaporeans

After 2 years of living in that atrocious crap hole of a country, I was excited to get out. It’s a cesspool full of horrible low class people who have absolutely no culture at all. They are, without a doubt the filthiest, most disgusting people on the planet, TAKE A DAMN SHOWER you animals, sorry that is unfair to animals, and they have better hygiene and social skills, including cockroaches, than Singaporeans do.

The worst part is its not even their government it those filthy disgusting pigs that are the problem, if they killed all the Singaporeans, it would actually be a decent place.

It’s a known fact that cities attract the low class people, so what to do if your country is just one city? Well guess what, your whole country is low class. Walk down any street and you see these things, which have know Idea how to behave wandering around like they rule the world, YOU ARE INSIGNIFICANT, you useless pile of vile fecal matter. Yes, I think that will be my new term for Singaporeans: useless pile of vile fecal matter or UPVFM, they can call their completely inappropriate behavior kiasu if they want, I call it being a scum bag ASIAN BORN CHINESE, because it is the same exact inappropriate behavior that the mainland Chinese use.

Listen you retarded UPVFM, at least the mainland Chinese have an excuse, they have been locked up and sheltered for 50 f@#$ing years, and you lie to the world and say you are the best of east vs west, you are not. You are a pathetic excuse for Homo sapiens; maybe LKY was right you all obviously did come from China’s worst stock、WOW! Think about it you are the undesirables, of a nation of undesirables. You should be so proud of yourselves……..

I not just going to bad mouth you UPVFM’s, let me give you some personal experiences, these are just some of the couple of thousands I can give from just 2 years of living there, it essentially happened anytime I went into public with these UPVFM’s, just to prove my point, which will not matter because the UPVFM’s will come on here and act like the retarded (I don’t care if you don’t like racist and prefer Xenophobe, they are the same thing, all Xenophobes are racist) racist they are, and blame the mainland Chinese, or the Malaysians, because these UPVFM’s cannot admit anything about themselves, and that is half the F@#$in problem and a big part of why they are UPVFM’s.

Flying into Singapore: My wife and coming from a wonderful vacation in Okinawa, flew Okinawa to Shanghai, then Shanghai to Singapore, we flew business class, big seats, lots of room, Singapore airlines, should have been a pleasant 5 hour flight with plenty of sleep seeing it departed at midnight, and arrived at 5:30 am. We get on the plane, sit comfortably in our seats, and wait for the meal, eat the meal, and then I want to get some sleep, I lay my chair back, and the filthy Singapore bitch behind me takes her filthy stank feet and kicks me in the head as she tries to put he feet on the back of my chair, I am like what the F@#$. She tries to tell me “I paid for this space lah, its my space too”, I call over the flight attendant, she and the woman have words, I try to lay down and sleep again, and this filthy UPVFM’s pig does it again, after an hour of back and forth I finally open my mouth with out calling the flight attendant, and threaten to rip this UPVFM’s head of her neck, and disembowel her with my fork, I could not believe this was allowed in Business class, how low class are these things.

Day 2 in Singapore signing up for cable, my wife and I go to Singtel, to sign up for a phone, internet and cable, we are seated, for close to 30minutes waiting for assistance from the girl behind the counter (as we arrived before opening, there were no customers yet except us, also introducing me to the 2 years of the absolute worst customer service I have ever seen in any country in my life), a annoying Singapore woman, and her two unruly vile non-disciplined children come be loud, disrespectful, and just plain, annoying, obnoxious, unpalatable bastards, and begin screaming at the counter girl, who still has not served my wife and I, let alone done anything I can see for that matter. Soon after an older British couple come in, the man on a walker and the woman with a cane, my wife and I stood up and offered our chairs to them, they are handicapped after all, and the 2 UPVFM children ran up, pushed the old man to the ground and took the chair, that UPVFM mother looked at them and in her vile Singlish accent said “good, leh” I told the kids to get up as the mother would not, and then the mother yelled at me “you don’t understand our culture, Children can do no wrong,” this retarded bitc$ goes, so replied, “your right its not the children’s fault, it the parents fault for not teaching these animals right from wrong.” I then looked at the kids and said “GET YOUR ASSES OUT OF THAT CHAIR RIGHT NOW< GO STAND NEXT TO YOUR MOTHER< AND SHUT YOUR MOUTHS FOR THE REST OF THE TIME YOU ARE IN HERE!” ironically, by that time many more people had walked into the store, foreign and local, and all of the foreigners had started applauding, funny isn’t it. Then I turned the girl who was suppose to be working and said “HEY

The next day I told my Singaporean Colleague about the event, he goes, It must have been a mainland Chinese, I said they had a Singaporean accent, spoke Singlish, and carried a Singaporean IC card which was in the woman’s hand, he still insisted it was a foreigner that must have PR because Singaporeans don’t act that way.

My first Work Trip: So I had been their about a month, moved into my condo, got internet and cable and had to make my first trip, this was around July, July is hot, I was in Taiwan, my wife called me that morning from Taiwan, crying and screaming, their was a dead guy on the ground in front of our apartment, a dead guy, she was in hysterics, the guy apparently had taken his own life in our condo, I calmed her down and told her to shut the window, I called my colleague, and asked him to check on my wife because she was scared due to seeing this dead body, he told me that Asian culture does not help friends that way, I said, “WHAT? I have lived in Asia for 11 years, I have an Asian wife for 8, are you retarded” so he refused to take thirty minutes out of his day to comfort a foreigner witnessing a live death after being in the UPVFM’s country for only about 30 days. 2 hours later, my wife calls me back in hysterics again, she said she was dying from the heat and opened the shades, and the body is still lying outside on the ground, uncovered and there are little children outside around it, I said they have not covered it? They have not moved it to the hospital yet? What the hell is the matter with these people, there are children looking at the body, are parents freaking? I have only seen such things in a handful of countries, let me list them for you now, India, China, Afghanistan, Turkistan, Indonesia, notice these are all third world countries that allow bodies to stay out, uncovered and children tto run and play around them, and I now add Singapore to that list, my wife and I have a huge discussion about how in NY, or in Japan, they would go out of their way to make sure you cannot see, especially if there are children, but not in Singapore, and the only person I know in Singapore, cannot take 30 f’in minutes out of their day to comfort someone who is new in THEIR COUNTRY. What UPVFM’s they are. Essentially, my wife told me the body sat outside, uncovered for 8hours with children and people walking around it then they put a blanket over it for another 3 before they finally moved it, WTF is the matter with these UPVFM’s.

After 3 months I realized, these UPVFM’s were lazy and did not work, and had to be extremely micromanaged to make sure anything got done and done properly. After 6 months there I was talking to 3 friends, about my disgust of their lack of work habits and ethics, and my friends said it must just be my employees, so I challenged them to test their work forces, being a 6 Sigma Black Belt, and offering free Black belt services that could provide money saving techniques to 3 large companies in Singapore (Symantec, Motorola, and GE) they gladly accepted, I came up with individual rating and monitoring systems that allowed them to rank accomplished work by all their employees foreign and local, GE which found the closest results had their Singaporean staff accomplishing only 1/7th of the work as their laziest foreign employee, all 3 companies however showed the same results, the UPVFM’s were useless, but the companies were forced to keep because of Singapore’s employment laws, these companies then hired me to do more studies for them, all in all Motorola has shut down all facilities in Singapore, Symantec paid a fine and fired all of its Singapore staff, and GE moved all operations to Malaysia.

Like I said these are just a few of thousands of examples I can give over 2 years of being in that shit hole, they are all UPVFM’s, and I hope somebody sinks that island back into the ocean.
Oh and just for the Singaporeans who think what I have to say about your country does not matter, I talked to hundreds of people (maybe more) from every country of the world per year, and I tell them exactly what I think of you UPVFM’s, and I give them experience on top of experience, and this does have an impact you filth.

Fuck off Ronaldo!

History was made this morning as Barcelona lifted the Champions League trophy.

They became the first Spanish club to win the league, the Copa Del Rey and the Champions League.

The Los Blaugrana have now scored a whooping 153 goals in all competitions.

It has been a pleasure watching Barcelona play this season and against ManUre they didn’t disappoint.

Goals from Eto’o and Messi were enough to see off an insipid ManUre side.

With a talent that is only matched by his arrogance, Ronaldo, for once, had to eat humble pie.

So were his teammates, as Barcelona made them look ordinary.

Although Pep Guardiola had to play a second-string backline due to injuries and suspensions, the ManUre’s much vaunted attack didn’t trouble Valdes.

On the flanks, Rooney and Park tried in vain to get the better of old man Sylvinho and Puyol, who had to play out of position. Ronaldo was marked out of the game by Pique and Toure. Even the introduction of Berbatov, Scholes and Tevez produced similar dismal results.

Barcelona’s slick passing game was an enjoyment to watch as much as were ManUre’s futile efforts at getting the ball off them.

Barcelona kept the ball with such consummate ease it was almost surreal at times.

With the excellent Busquets holding the midfield, Iniesta, Xavi and Messi ran circles around Giggs, Carrick and Anderson. Their movement was a joy to watch, their passing peerless. On the flank, a half-fit Henry was more than a handful for O’Shea.

Deprived of the ball for long periods, ManUre were reduced to chasing shadows. When they had the ball, they inevitably gave it away with misguided long passes.

Barcelona looked more like an English team than their opponents as they closed down ManUre with such efficiency.

Off-form Eto’o showed that “form is temporary but class is permanent” when he wrongfooted an on-form Vidic and toe-poked the ball under Van der Sar.

Left unmarked by Ferdinand, Messi left Van der Sar for dead as his header sailed into the top corner of the goal. A magnificent headed finish by the shortest man on the field. It was the Argentine wunderkind’s first goal against English opposition and it couldn’t have arrived at a better time.

It could have been worse for the English, but for their custodian. It was a pity they didn’t play Ben Foster instead. A 5:0 scoreline would have been what the arrogant team from Old Trafford deserved.

In the end, justice prevailed. Barcelona showed the world how football should be played. They deserve all the accolades and approbation. FIFA should strip Ronaldo of his World Player of the Year title and give it to Messi right away. If there is divine justice, Xavi and Iniesta should be given the title as well, a fitting tribute to their immense contribution.

As for ManUre, they can fuck off. Sell sulking Ronaldo to Newcastle. They would LUVVVVVVVVV it!

To Round Things Off

I saw this in a book:


The Devil is by no means the worst that there is; I would rather have dealings with him than with many a human being He honours his agreements much more promptly than many a swindler on Earth. To be true, when payment is due he comes on the dot; just as twelve strikes, fetches his soul and goes off home to Hell like a good Devil. He’s just a businessman as is right and proper.

J. N. NESTROY, Hollenangst

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


The English Premiership’s 'Survival Sunday' was a comedy. You would have thought all the relegation threatened clubs would have made a fist of it but they all lost abjectly. Boro tied the scores at 1:1 only to see their keeper let slip a shot into the net. Sunderland lost to Chelsea 3:2 at their Stadium of Light. Hull City were comprehensively outplayed by a second-string Man Utd side, and their rivals Newcastle surrendered tamely to Villa.

Funnily, the only club in the bottom five that managed to pick up a point (a goalless draw with Blackburn ) was already relegated West Brom. They could even have won it, but their profligate finishing had been their Achilles heel all season and it tormented them to the final day.

Wild celebrations greeted the final whistle at the KC Stadium. To an unwitting observer, the scenes of jubilation might have suggested a trophy won after a hard-fought victory. Rarely has a side celebrated so hard and with such a strange mixture of disbelief and relief after losing a critical tie, but Hull City and their legions of delirious fans are beyond caring. The Tigers had been playing hopeless football, but so had Boro, Newcastle and WBA. The only reason why they will be playing in the Premiership next season is that for all their ineptitude, the aforementioned clubs, were incredibly, worse.

After so many false dawns, Newcastle finally got the fate they deserve. Despite a second place finish in the first Keegan era, a few Champions League appearances and a couple of FA Cup Finals, Newcastle were never, as their fans suggested ad nauseam, a big club. The Barcode Army do not have a divine right to be in the Premiership, and for the next season at least, Premiership fans won’t have to hear any more of that “We deserve to win trophies’ nonsense.


Everton secured a fifth place finish after their victory at Fulham. Alan Shearer was touted as the ‘Messiah’ when he took over at Newcastle with eight matches remaining. If there is truly a Messiah, then it is David Moyes, who unlike Shearer, has lived up to his billing season after season.

Despite a horrible start to the season, Moyes had not only steadied the ship, but steered it to richer waters. A fifth place finish and a date with Chelsea for the FA Cup are more than just rewards for a club that is skint. Admittedly Everton may not be challenging for the Premiership title or even a top four finish, but Moyes has forged a resilient side that is hard to beat and he must be given credit for that.

Chelsea will be favourites to lift the FA Cup but Everton, after seeing off the likes of Liverpool (also called the Shite), Villa and Man Utd, must fancy their chances. It will be all blue at Wembley, and hopefully another ‘Ovrebo’ will not overshadow what will be a magnificent final. Win or lose, this will surely be the best season for the Blues since Joe Royle and Co lifted the Cup so long ago.

My Loony Bun is Fine Benny Lava...OOOOooooOOOOoooooo

Miao sent me this video. POWERFUL!

Buffalax for President!

Going Drogba

I had my Business Law II examination during the earlier part of the night and words cannot adequately convey me feelings of despondency. I feel robbed, raped, thrown to the dogs and if there is a word I cannot use enough, it is “disgrace”.

Let’s start from before the examination.

My Business Law II lecturer was full of confidence when he gave us the examination tips. Like the investors who were similarly buoyant before the economic collapse, we invested in his Minibonds, were denied the possibility of recourse, and ultimately left to our own pathetic chest-beating and vitriol-driven rants.

People will say that we deserve it and I concede they have a point, but only to a certain degree. A lecturer should not have given his students tips if he is not confident that they are useful. In our case, the situation is exacerbated to such laughable proportions because my lecturer was the one who set the paper. At least, that was what he said. It is tragicomical, the equivalent of Fann Wong starring in a Shakespearean tragedy and then speaking her lines in her broken English.

I have nothing against a lecturer who does not give tips. My Marketing lecturer didn’t say a word but I never said a bad word against her. I even gave her a good review when I did my course evaluation. By choosing to “help” your students out you give people false hopes. People will rely on the information and they will suffer because they do exactly that. If I had my way, there should either be tips for all students taking the same course, or none at all.

The smell of conspiracy pervades the air. In my previous posts I had mentioned that students from the other classes had been crowding my own because of my lecturer’s reputation as a tip-giver. There were a few embarrassing and rather infuriating occasions win which he had difficulty getting the “illegal immigrants” to go back to their own classes.

My theory is that the original paper was changed to “teach these gatecrashers a lesson”. The other lecturers, neglected as they were, had a chance to reward their loyal students by giving them the correct tips, while the disloyal ones rightly deserved their punishment.

What I don’t understand is, why make us suffer as well? We didn’t do anything wrong in the first place. It was our own class, as stated in the attendance files and other people did not have a right to come into our class and fight with us over seats! And secondly, didn’t they, in their vindictive wisdom realize that students swap assignments and files around? The ones who would have gotten hit, regardless of guilt, would be those who didn’t interact much with their fellows!


The questions were quite long, possibly twice as long as what were in the past year papers. To make things worse, three were spilt into parts, meaning that we had to flip through our textbook, guidebook and notes madly. We were only given two hours to finish the paper, not three hours! Time was never going to be enough, and if in our haste, we misread or missed some key words in the question, we would never have time to redo our answers. Contrast this paper to previous years, which were more direct.

The thing that pisses me off is the last question on corporate governance. Corporate governance, being a set of ethical guidelines and not legislation, is debatable. Different cultures and countries have their own unique definitions of what constitute corporate governance, and as such, any definition is contextual at best.

Due to the difficult nature of this topic, it would be reasonable to provide us with material of sufficient quality and quantity so that we can examine this in greater detail. The course chair had to write two short sections on corporate governance in the study guide because the topic was beyond the scope of our textbook. All well and fine. The topic may require more thinking but its inclusion does not dilute the structure of the course. It should enhance it but unfortunately the way the question was set, made some of us felt robbed.

How in the Hells did they expect us to answer a question like this, bearing in mind we had to finish four other questions and were given a paltry two hours?


Both investors and governments have been active in the realm of corporate governance by seeking to ensure that corporate boards are more accountable, that qualified independent non-executive directors can and do play a key role, that audit committees are able to operate effectively. In the Singapore context it is evident that publicly listed companies are expected to disclose their corporate governance practices and to give adequate explanation for deviations from the Code of Corporate Governance in their Annual Reports. In the light of these current reforms, explain how the practice of corporate governance in Singapore has provided a climate that is conducive to the orderly development of the capital markets and at the same time meets the increasing expectations of the investing public and institutional investors.


I searched through my guidebooks and notes and I could not find anything I could use. In the end I just wrote whatever drivel my desperate brain could conjure up. Admittedly I am a mediocre student, but at the risk of sounding like a broken record, there is no doubt that this question will challenge even business professionals and academics alike. The problem is not that we could not try to use our critical thinking, it’s that we had absolutely no time to do so!

What is the point of having an examination when you are testing students’ writing speed and to some extent his speed of thought instead of his knowledge of the subject and his faculty for critical thinking?! I am absolutely against the idea of having a two hour examination! It’s obscene and people who are naturally deliberate thinkers are going to get the short end of the stick.

Granted, that part of the answers to this question could be found in the notes and in my feverish haste I had overlooked them. In that case, I should lose quite a few marks for my mistake. However, when SOME fortunate students got exactly the same question and the answers in their revision notes, then obviously the ground was “uneven”. A friend happily told me that he just copied the whole chunk in. 20 marks in the pocket, free and easy. As far as I know, my class didn’t get that particular set of notes! Some will pass because they had some extraordinary help and some will fail because they were screwed. It’s a disgrace, a fucking disgrace! A damning indictment of my university!

And I would love to kill the whoreson who set the temperature in the examination hall to near Arctic conditions. For most of the examination my fingers were stiff from the cold and I had a torrid time writing on my script. My handwriting was barely legible, and I hope I would not be penalized for producing something that reminds one of the sigils in a Taoist talisman! At any rate, I hope my drivel is enough to secure the required 40 marks for survival. (I think I got most of the concepts right. Problem is, my writing was absolutely shite.)

Now I know what Drogba and Company must have felt when Ovrebo robbed them of a place in the Champions League final. It’s a disgrace! A fucking disgrace!





I would love to do the same to UniShit.

Strange, very strange.

Some smartass once said that life is what you make of it.

What would he have made of this?


SMSes:

Police Car at 1.11 pm: Xian ah xian. Will u be able to help me with 1k?i will pay u back by july. (I thought his next payday is on the 10th of June?)

Police Car at 1.15pm: This is really urgent. Concerns life and death.

Police Car at 1.19pm: At the most the next time i treat u to geylang for the best CN spec lor. Until u drool

Police Car at 1.43pm: Xian.how?can help?

Me at 1.46pm: No $ (I'm unemployed remember?) Try the guys in the trade. You can also ask Rama - he saves a lot. (Our roles should be reversed. An airforce staff sergeant who wastes the taxpayers' money every month now wants handouts from a struggling student. We should be on Ripley's Believe it or Not.)

Police Car at 1.48pm: I thought u gonna do street protest?hahaha (Pinkdot is an event, not a protest.)

Me at 1.50pm: What protest? By the way, protesters don't get paid at all. (In fact they attract police attention faster than Mas Selamat if he were to do a striptease in front of the Parliament House.)

Police Car at 1.51pm: Putting on e pink shirt and protest. Carrying a flag. Haha

Police Car at 1.53pm: Ok. Help me think of 4 numbers. Once strike! That's it. (I am a god now, and my first act upon my deification is to dispense winning lottery numbers. )

Me at 1.56pm: Why don't you seek help from your pastor? I'm sure the church would be more than willing to help. (As if pigs can fly.)

Me at 1.57pm: 9413 (rythmes with "Nine Dead One Live" in Cantonese/Mandarin.)

Police Car 1.57pm: Than if everyone seek him 4 help than he broke (My, how noble. What about me?)


Not satisfied with this meaningless exchange via messaging, Police Car called me to continue the meaningless exchange via oral conversation. I can't remember exactly every word, but the conversation was roughly like this:

Police Car: ARRRRRGH.

Me: Eh?

Police Car: The 9413 got open meh?

Me: It's certainly possible. 0000 has "opened" before.

Police Car: Eh? Why 9413?

Me: Good number.

Police Car: Why leh?

Me: The other night Chicken and I saw this "fierce" car with 9413 on its number plate.

Police Car: What loh! Must be one lousy car lah.

Me: No. Nonono. It's actually quite a good car. We also saw 0666.

Police Car: Chicken that time said throw $2 go and buy Toto or 4D. If strike, ho say liao!

Me: Yeah.

Police Car: So how much should I buy?

Me: Depends on you.

Police Car: Then how much?

Me: $10.

Police Car: $10! If lose then everything die liao. (Of course! You think Singapore Pools will refund you money?)

Me: You must have faith.

Police Car: But $10...

Me: Is your faith worth less than $10? (So is a mustard seed.)

Police Car: If I strike I treat you to CN spec. She can wear nurse or whatever uniform you like. (Anything but airforce uniform please.)

Me: I prefer that she dresses up like Mother Teresa.

Police Car: HAHAHAHA!

Me: Yes. We can do the missionary position together.

Police Car: HAHAHAHA! So 4D how to buy? (Acerbic wit is wasted on fools.)

(I then explained to him what "Big"and "Small" mean on the payout stakes. He interjected occasionally to clarify his doubts.)

Police Car: Okay okay. I go buy.

Me: Ciao.

Pinkdot

Some Images from PinkDot:













Pinkdot is an event that promotes the freedom of lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgenders (LGBT) to love. It was held at Hong Lim Park on the 16th of May 2009.

You can check out their blog here.

Non Compos Mentis

I am recovering from my trauma from my Financial Accounting examination. I suffered yet another mental collapse. When I flipped through the paper I thought survival was guaranteed. How wrong I was!

Throughout my ordeal I found myself in a trance. For the first 25 minutes or so my fingers werer semi-thawed (I spent two hours in this ice-cave of a library for some last minute mugging and had my blood frozen as a result), and for the rest of the period I was slipping in and out of reality. Stray throughts kept popping up in my head. Music played, my consciousness phased in and out. I struggled to maintain concentration but it was an uphill struggle.

I cleared the first question well enough, but for the next three I faltered. I suffered the sort of mental collapse that a team which has taken a three goal lead only to concede four in the last ten minutes would feel. I suddenly couldn't remember where to place the accrued transactions in the journal. Instead of putting the adjusted figures into the existing columns, I added a few more columns. Granted, while I screwed up this question it wasn't a complete loss. A few points here and then, and hopefully, no penalization for writing rubbish and I might sneak a few vital points.

By this time, my mental fortitude was on the verge of disintegration. Wave after wave of desperation assaulted me. I had difficulty remembering what I just wrote. Like a common animal I existed purely on an instinctual level. My pen scribbed, I crossed out, rewrote. Let not your right hand know what the left is doing. Easy matter! The interface between my brain and my hand broke down incessantly, each reknitting increasingly tenuous. I would have sworn I was possessed by some idiot angel, but I am an atheist.

The third question was an absolutely stinker. Ordinarily, inventory methods would not have fazed me, but in this situation I was left grasping at thin air. Although there are two types of inventory stocktaking decisions, the examples in the textbook were worked using only one methodology. Left with no alternative I answered as what I had practiced. I might have gotten it perfectly right - it's all or nothing. A penalty situation. Either I score or I miss. No in-between, Beautiful yet potentially tragic. Winner takes all. A wonderful dichotomy. I could have been thinking too much - look! I'm waxing pathetic! - the two decisions may be purely rhetorical where accounting is concerned, but I feel frustrated at the way I blew this golden opportunity to seal it.

Understand what I just wrote? I don't. Do you?

I had less than 30 minutes for the last question and I just wrote whatever I could conjure up. I misplaced a couple of transactions but I couldn't really help it. I got the format down and anything I put in right was a bonus. With three minutes remaining I realized I still haven't done the theory part of the question. Although it carried only a paltry five marks it looked considerably more promising on the cost-benefit scale than the 20 mark cash flow statement I just scribbed. I wrote some crap and hopefully it will secure the precious point(s) I need to put myself through. I now place my hopes on the theory portion of the paper. It consisted of only around a fifth of the total marks but every shit counts. May my bullshit smells nice enough to get me ten marks or more out of the 19, 20 on offer.

Life is ironic and a bitch at that. To think I had ranted at having theory questions in the paper, only to rely on them now. I learned about 'creative accounting' dishonest businessmen use, only to hope that the marker will indulge, from an 'ethical' point of view, some 'creative marking and accounting' when he/she grades my paper.

One down, two more to go. I am not going to touch my books tonight. I have had enough pain to last me for the next 12 hours.

This is what I call INTEGRITY!

From the official Chelsea Football Club website:


PADDY POWER REFUND ON CHELSEA AFTER CHAMPIONS LEAGUE FARCE

Posted on: Thu 07 May 2009

Reacting to the astonishing refereeing in last night's Champions League semi-final, top bookie Paddy Power has wasted no time pledging to refund bets placed on Chelsea to win the encounter and to qualify for the Champions League final.

Chelsea, who were on course for a Champions League final encounter with Manchester United, were seemingly denied at least four penalties and then lost out after a 93rd minute winning strike from Barcelona's Andrés Iniesta.

Paddy Power said: 'The refereeing in tonight's match was disgraceful and we're not going to let our punters suffer because of that nonsense. Anyone who backed Chelsea to win in 90 minutes or to qualify for the Champions League final will get their money back.'


Will Singapore Pools do the right thing as well?

Yeah. WHEN PIGS GROW WINGS AND FLY.

Current Affairs II

The panic over the swine flu is getting out of hand.

Millions of people around the world are infected with the HIV virus and nobody legislates the use of condoms. We have a hundred cases of swine flu and people start pressing the panic buttons. The World Health Organization clearly do not know what the fuck they are doing. Five out of six on the Alert Scale is overreacting. I would have put it at three. To date, how many people have died from swine flu? The survival rate (over 90%) is still pretty high. Contrast swine flu to cancer, heart problems, and AIDS. Egypt just butchered most of its pigs. Mexicans are treated like they are the carriers of some alien virus. News of the disease continue to dominate the airwaves.

It’s irritating. First we have the economic crisis and the endless discussion of what happened to corporate governance (as if it existed in the first place), then the Somalia pirates, Pakistan’s capitulation to the Taliban and now the swine flu. No doubt the news are absorbing but sometimes I wish they can take a break from reporting all these and concentrate on real issues. Like how a certain regime with the “Mandate of the People” tag are treating its citizens worse than pigs. The pigs in Egypt at least got a quick death. Here it’s a slow and lingering demise, made worse by listening to the regime’s incessant pseudo-pedantic claptrap and being squeezed of every drop of blood. (By the end of it, you still have to pay for your own funeral, unlike our friends the pigs.)

In our incredibly “unique” cuntry, it is impossible to go into any regime-owned/sponsored building without having your temperature taken. This is ridiculous. If I catch the flu at this moment I can hardly be expected to develop flu symptoms right away yeah? There are plenty of crowded places like train stations, bus interchanges and shopping centres but why aren’t people in these places required to use their thermometers? There are hordes of cheap foreign workers in GL every night and spreading disease via their body odors and bodily secretions, i.e., semen so why are they exempted?

It is so bad now that students are being fined for forgetting to bring their thermometers to school. In case the fucking authorities had been living in a cave and sharing bodily secretions with Mr. Bin Laden and didn’t know shit, we are in the middle of the worst recession since 1930. A recession that is going to get worse. Fining people when they are struggling to pay bills is absolutely shameful. Only in Singapore can such bullshit happen without people protesting about it. Fuck this cuntry.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

While having supper in GL last night, Chicken and I saw a cat-fight. Several Vietnamese whores decided to liven up the night with some good old-fashioned WWE action. The coffee-shop proprietor quickly broke up the fight. Even so, one was left on her bum, rubbing her lips with her hands and looking dazed.

The entertainment lasted about a minute, but was nevertheless impressive. Our food arrived and Chicken and I attacked it with relish. Halfway through our supper Chicken pointed at a scruffy character prying a floorboard several yards from where we were seated. The board opened a crack and he fished out two packages of fags. After ten minutes or so, a different bloke came and did the same thing. Then another. Their entrepreneurship and humanistic spirit deserve the highest approbation. With the recession and fags being priced so high by our mercenary, totalitarian and soulless regime, these ethical businessmen allow smokers to get their kicks without bursting their bank. This is truly social responsibility.

The gambling tables were nowhere to be found. The presence of a couple of fuzz sitting in the vicinity put business to a halt. I don’t know why people endure three years for a polytechnic diploma in Casino Management when it is obvious that you need only brains and confidence to run a table. When the Integrated Resorts (IR) are up, these people should be employed. Why choose greenhorns out of polytechnics when people with relevant experience are readily available?

Kids are loitering in GL. While in principle, I have nothing against that – I consider the sightseeing to be enriching – the number of kids may cause the fuzz to clamp down on GL even more. The other night I saw a group of teenagers (with a couple of girls among them) questioned by the fuzz. There are many ways to impress your date. You don’t need to bring them to a red-light district just to show her how ‘man’ you are. With teenage girls being so horny these days, I am sure it doesn’t take much to get one to spread her legs.

If you are a male teenager, complete with raging hormones, and want to sightsee, please do not bring your little girlfriends with you. Please do not wear your Singapore Polytechnic “Freshmen Orientation 09” T-shirt. It’s conspicuous and draws the attention of the fuzz. Wear something suitably sloppy which blends you in. This is a red-light district, not a teensy club, for Asmodeus’ sake! I am sure people do not want the fuzz to raid the area in the name of “social morality”. So please, show some sense.

Back to the main topic. The PRC merchandise ($100 price tag) are back in the CBD. In my opinion, many of them belong in the $60/80 category. While most are still aesthetically pleasing, you will not get good value for money in terms of “feel” and selection. Like the global economy, the recovery will take place, but slowly.

The $60 and $80 streets are mostly empty. They are too near to where the fuzz usually laze around and the lack of concealment and “safe-houses” make soliciting a tricky business. You may get the odd heroine once in a while, but don’t count on the quality.

You may also find a few PRC goods standing opposite the $60 street. Their quality is comparable to the ones found in the CBD, which does not mean a great deal. However, you may be able to find the rare gem if you are lucky.

The Indonesian merchandise are more blatant. Their inferior quality may explain their gungho attitude. They have nothing to lose. Still, when it comes to alert, they respond swiftly and decisively. Our mighty military can learn a thing or two from these cheap whores. Like the need to MOVE FAST!

The Indian merchandise, with their saris and thick waists are not recommended for the discerning client. Their mediocrity, and the unsavory prospect of being a “sperm brother” with the masses of cheap laborers they have served, makes renting them an extremely unwise and possibly damaging business transaction.

For the same reason, avoid the fish tanks. There are so many strange characters going in and out of the overworked merchandise that they cannot be accorded safe. $50 for a 25 minute round is too obscene, considering the current economy.

Current Affairs

Free market principles do not apply to GL. For over a month now the economy there has chafed under the depredations of the draconian regime and their lackeys. Despite the latest setback, analysts are hopeful that the bad times will not last. Signs point to an imminent recovery. In the meantime, the discerning and intelligent client should be aware of the ever changing and dynamic marketplace and adjust his directions and goals accordingly. In this report I will briefly touch on the general market conditions in GL.

The fish tanks continue to profit from the suffocating law enforcement. The clientele have become sloppier in both station and dressing. Bangladesh and Indian laborers seek respite from their drudgery in the arms of $50 whores. The short duration of the entertainment (25 minutes) does not deter them from indulging themselves.

Indeed, even Caucasians, many of whom are expatriates, have flocked to the fish tanks. The decline of black market commodities has driven demand for legitimate goods. It is now not an uncommon sight to find locals, Caucasians, PRCs and other Asians, people of all skin colours in the same fish tank, ogling the goods or waiting for them to complete their business transactions so they may take their pleasure. Racial and religious harmony is very much in evident – in a GL whorehouse.

In the lorongs, the market varies. The Indian merchandise have reemerged, as have the Indonesian ones. However, they are generally only available after midnight. For those who fancy PRC merchandise, the picture is a less rosy one. The $60 and $80 streets are mostly empty, save for the occasional entrepreneurial whore. Closer to the CBD, the $100 goods are available, albeit in significantly lesser quantities. The aforementioned timing applies to these as well.

According to the most honourable and bona fide business correspondent The Ice Cream Seller, the phenomenon can be explained:

What good and honest businessmen and women fear are not the fuzz in uniform, but the ones who aren’t. Acting like prospective clients, the latter would drive slowly by the merchandise, and then suddenly grab a couple into their cars. (It’s a great way to cup a feel if you ask me.) Against such devious tactics the best of lookouts will struggle.

The PRC merchandise now wear less revealing dresses. They also stand closer to the nearby hotels, just in case a quick getaway is in order. Their lookouts are ubiquitous as always, but I doubt their sterling professionalism will alleviate the very dire straits. Nevertheless, they must be applauded for their efforts.

For those who prefer less mainstream merchandise, imitation goods in the form of ‘lady-boys’ are available. They can be found across the street from where the $60 PRC goods were displayed. A word of caution here. They tend to be aesthetically inferior.

Farther up in the direction of the $80 junction, a man may be accosted by freelance ‘relations managers’. They run a very discreet operation. Only when you acquiesce to their terms and conditions would you be allowed to see the merchandise.

Russian/Eastern European merchandise may be found from time to time. They can be located near the coffee-shop nearest to the $60 street. In the alley next to the coffee-shop, Thai merchandise and other goods of indeterminate origins can be rented at a price of around $30.

GL is the shining light of our nation. Its brilliance must not be allowed to dim, nor the entrepreneurial spirit of its people be extinguished. In my report I have briefly described the current situation in GL. Lastly, I wish to express my hope of its speedy recovery, so that it may continue to benefit future generations.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

After a hugely entertaining EGM, the old guard have wrestled AWARE back from the usurpers. The highly charged atmosphere was unprecedented in a repressed country where people are as expressive as cold unfeeling machinery. People were out for blood and they got what they wanted. Shouts, abuses, speeches and boos provided an insane cacophony most suited to the festive occasion. For once, people stood up to be counted and demand a body count of their enemies in return for their passion and vehemence for their cause.

The old guard were expected to rape the new guard and the punters were not left disappointed. The 65% vote of no confidence meant a landslide victory for the old guard, and a particularly enriching one for the brave souls who took the 150% handicap on the favourites.

The victors were gracious in their victory and pledged to work with the defeated to safeguard women’s rights. They stopped short of gloating of having the ‘Mandate of the People’, as the regime did when they bought and threatened their way to a 66% majority vote in the last elections.

It had been an amazing and titanic battle and demonstrated once again that you don’t mess around with women. Who will happen in the aftermath? There is, after all, the small matter of settling the $90,000 bill incurred in the convening of the EGM. Who will be left paying the bills?

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The swine flu has been the talk of the town. My take? I don’t give a damn!

Bring on the PORK!