Word of the day: "stylite"
Last weekend was spent the way the special occasion was supposed to be spent - primarily alone, consuming my neurons in an igneous ardour of writing, reading, and computer-game-playing. Finally completed Mechwarrior: Mercenaries; what is it about 100-tonne walking tanks that so stimulates the male imagination?:) Was actually inspired enough to dig up old Battletech sourcebooks and whip through a few hours of the original PC game Crescent Hawks' Inception - ah. I remember when, in primary school, before Ral Partha took over the model franchise and FASA becamse another Microsoft whore, there was only one guy in my class who actually had Battletech figurines. It was incredibly fun moving those classic mechs: Commando, Locust, Chameleon, Phoenix Hawk - through their paces. Nowadays everyone knows what a Mad Cat is, but who remembers the good old Catapult? In any case - yeah. DFA!
Christ almighty, more example of human degeneracy.
*raves* No matter how much sick, whack, twisted, shit there is out there, no matter how many times I tell myself that nothing on the Net fazes me anymore, not the scheisse videos, the refluxophiliacs, the Satanic pedophilia, the incest stories, tentacle-fucking anime, but THIS -!
Someday I will re-post the link to the Smurf porn websites, and, if I can find it again, Enid Blyton gay fanfiction. The latter is not for the faint of heart, because it involves multiple-partners (most of Toyland), inter-racial (golliwog + everyone else), and prosthetics (Noddy is *wooden* for good reason..).
Books read this weekend
Mao Zedong's little treatise on guerilla warfare written during the Yenan period. (an odd buy I had forgotten all about in Australia and excavated only a month ago). Translated by Edgar Snow, of course - for that appropriately sycopanthic effect.
Stephen King - Different Seasons (purely for trashy uplift)
Scott Adams - God's Debris (for some reason it was listed in Borders under "metaphysical studies")
Elizabeth Wurtzel - Prozac Nation (believe it or not, never read cover-to-cover prior to this date)
JS MiIl - On Liberty (again, first time cover-to-cover, as opposed to cribbing notes and passages for essay/hao lian purposes)
*studies the above list* Hm. Trashy, light reads, mostly. These days I have very little appetite for embarrassingly difficult books - which is why even, to my horror, I find myself shying away from a new Umberto Eco or even the temptation to finish up Crying of Lot 49. It's easier to read the likes of Nick Hornby or Don DeLillo or Zadie Smith - it's the way they feed you pop profundity in pithy one-liners which can be uploaded for cerebral processing at whim.
Bipolar manifestation of quotes:
At 11:15am on Saturday, was simultaneously reading and exulting over Rita Hayworth and the Shawshank Redemption:
"I find I'm so excited, I can barely sit still or hold a thought in my head. I think it the excitement only a free man can feel, a free man at the start of a long journey whose conclusion is uncertain. I hope I can make it across the border. I hope to see my friend, and shake his hand. I hope the Pacific is as blue as it has been in my dreams. I hope"
Half an hour later, was reading:
"I had invented the monster and now it was overtaking me. This was what I'd come to. This was what I'd be for the rest of my life. Things were bad now and would get worse later. They would. I had not heard the word depression yet, and would not for some time after that, but I felt something very wrong going on. I felt that I was wrong - my hair was wrong, my face was wrong, my personality was wrong - my God, my choice of flavors at the Haagan Dazs shop after school was wrong! How could I walk around with such pasty white skin, such dark, doleful eyes, such straight anemic hair, such round hips and such a small clinched waist? How could I let anybody see me this way? How could I expose other people to my person, to this bane to the world? I was one big mistake.
I did not, you see, want to kill myself. Not at that time, anyway. But I wanted to know that if need be, if the desperation got so terribly bad, I could inflict harm on my body. And I could. Knowing this gave me a sense of peace and power, so I started cutting up my legs all the time. Hiding the scars from my mother became a sport of its own. I collected razor blades, I bought a Swiss Army knife, I became fascinated with different kinds of sharp edges and the different cutting sensations they produced. I tried out different shapes - squares, triangles, pentagons, even an awkwardly carved heart, with a stab wound at its center, wanting to see if it hurt the way a real broken heart could hurt. I was amazed and pleased to find that it didn't."
Right.
Had another horrible lunch/encounter with paterfamilias. But parental whinging is one of the most common - and banally - archetypical content of blogs. But so is giving away vague hints and then refusing to go into further detail out of some coy discretion! Argh! A Hobson's Choice of bad taste in blogging!
Aunts on the distaff side gave me a bottle of cheap vodka as a birthday present, along with a hipflask of some really weird 60%-alc. content Chinese liquor. (Note: My primary drinking partners here in Malaysia are my maternal aunts and uncles; there's some primogenital context which would be too sian to relate.) Took a couple of my cousins from up north for a little libation - although in hindsight pouring that much vodka into a 13 year old may not have been the wisest course of action. Washed down these spirits with a good deal of Ribena, and had a generally merry time, for a change (as opposed to the usual fits of melancholic stupor my friends accuse me of falling into when drinking). Much exchange of personal ribaldries.
Sunday continued the gameplaying binge - am halfway through Mafia; completed Medieval: Total War; and finished off Europa Universalis 2 and aforementioned MW: Mercenaries. Ah, the joys of unrestrained gaming, sans food, sans the usual depressive fits, sans contact with the outside world... I really must devote less time to the Internet, and more time to single-player gaming affairs. The computer; the books - now those are faithful friends. They talk to you when you need them. They fill the mind with pretty images and concepts and ideas that dance in your head and set your mind aflame with imagination. And they can be put away, but never too far; so when one lies in bed, one can be transported, as if by anagoge, to a world, a piece of Utopia inside your frontal lobe where no one and nothing outside can touch you....
If only the computer at work had a better graphics card... and a soundcard, for that matter.
Mafia's soundtrack consists mainly of Django Reinhardt's swingy piano jazz pieces! Freaking cool!
Other than that, it's a great game - although the superficial comparisons to Grand Theft Auto 3 will no doubt be made; the only thing both games really have in common is that you drive through a 3d city in pursuit of criminal objectives and can steal cars. In terms of gameplay, linearity, even atmosphere, they're worlds apart. But I have to confess, there is something.. oddly appealing, for a while, in jacking a Cadillac V16.. oops, I meant a Lassiter V16 (in a fit of licensing paranoia, the cars are all genuine 30s models, but the names have been changed) The Bugatti / Carozella is particularly striking, and the cars all have lovely reflective surfaces. Somehow though, I need a rocket launcher or a chaingun; the tommy gun doesn't quite cut it. And the storyline, despite being a straight lift of every Scorsese or Coppola movie ever made, still shines through
because gangster rise-and-fall type storylines are immortal:)
In comparision with Need For Speed, though, the physics engine does mean that racing two Ford Model Ts doesn't have the.. visceral kick.. of racing two Diablos.
After watching Road to Perdition, the country drive bits in a Chevrolet Six really hit home though:)
Mechwarrior 4: Mercenaries left me oddly unsatisfied; although it's a good tie-in with the conclusion of the FedComm Civil War as chronicled in the various Twilight of the Clans and Mechwarrior novels which affocionados of the Battletech Universe will have been following for the last.. six or seven years now. (Final novel - Endgame - chronicling the Pyrrhic victory of Hans Steiner-Davion was released just in August). MW4: Mercs has three endings that all tie in very elegantly to various events of the above novel; although I have to admit that these tie-ins are a bit 'insider' - either you get their relevance and nod, or you won't.
But when your lance of Atlases and Templars are blowing apart a few enemy Daishis, who cares??? ER-PPC effects rule! But somehow.. there's a lot of wasted potential - the graphics engine has been updated but slightly and is showing its age; the missions aren't really that original or inspiring; the storyline doesn't have the very tight, focused premise that Mechwarrior 3 did (along with the brilliant idea of having briefings WHILE the map was loading), and , the perennial bane of Mechwarrior - the assault/heavy mechs will wipe out anything in their path (although they did at least fix the horrible "laser snipe leg" issue with MW3)
What someone once quoted to me: "Come in, and try not to ruin everything by being you."
From the same source:
"OK, we all have these terrible stories to get over, but.."
"It's not true. Some have great stories, pretty stories that take place at lakes with boats and friends and noodle salad. Just no one in this car. But, a lot of people, that's their story. Good times, noodle salad. What makes it so hard is not that you had it bad... but that you're that pissed that so many others had it good."
Movies watched:
8 Mile - Hm. I'm an Eminem fan, for all the wrong reasons; because his pithy, commodified, marketable, paradoxically anti-social and raw and anti-pop and yet utterly mainstream at the same time - this kind of celebrity bigotry is fun to indulge in, particularly when it masquerades behind the cover of irony. "yeah, it's all a joke, we all get it, elton john hugged slim shady at the grammys". But in the movie, the nearly incomprehensible battle rap sequences speak a lot about a way of life, a way of thinking and of directing working-class anger that is the true root of the gangsta school and mindset. The glamorous money-hos-and-bitchas homeboy attitudes we see from the big success stories like 2Pac and Snoop Doggy only make reference to these roots; while coasting on platinum-sales figures from the kinds of teenyboppers and middle-class adolescents they're supposed to be gunning down in drive-bys.
Nonetheless, if you watch 8 Mile, you should watch it purely because in it, Eminem doesn't really have to act - he just has to be himself, with his pissed off smouldering glare and his abusive boozehound mother and all.. and because Detroit seriously resembles Hell on Earth in this movie.
Double Vision - hallucinogens, Dadaist grotesqueries, Tony Leung, and David Morse, the latter clearly slumming it. The double-iris effect is pretty damned eerie though.
Harry Potter part deux - Erm. As always, the book was better. (and that's not saying much.) I must confess, it's certainly getting grimmer - not entirely convinced that children should be treated to scene with a ghost who, as an abused girl sought refuge in a toilet, was slain by supernatural forces, and was condemned to an eternity as a spirit infesting septic tanks and toilet plumbing. Not to mention the line: "I was sitting on the toilet as usual, thinking about death." (sic)
However, the books are progressively getting darker, and so the movies should. I believe as of Harry Potter IV, he had lost a finger in ritualistic sacrifice, become an unwilling participant in the resurrection of demonic forces, *and* is developing into adolescence. Horror of horrors.
Didn't have time to watch Knockaround Guys. Pity.
Raging Bull - Considered by many critics to be one of the greatest films of the 80s; and most De Niro affocionados rank this with Taxi Driver as his greatest performances. Now, I can't really describe this show - but I can tell you that, as a male, the sheer.. psychological insecurity and fragility that manifests in explosive, shocking violence is nothing new, as a plotline. But in the context of the Italian ghetto in New York; in the context of a twisted relationship with a Lolita-like figure whom De Niro feels too abused to deserve and yet unable to love except in the most brutal of ways.... ah well. Enough pompous movie-critic talk. Go watch it. Go watch how De Niro lost 20 pounds in sheer method acting and reportedly went boxing in Bronx rooms to prepare for the role. (The real-life character on which this movie is based, who actually trained De Niro personally, has stated that De Niro was one of the best middleweight boxers he'd ever known).
Must.. finish.. Morrowind! And now with Tribunal installed.. the gaming... power.. overwhelming!
Sigh. On one hand, there's responsibility, and on the other, there's obligation. Nevermind. Shall continue fixated pursuit and working my ass off in order to secure a decent passive income in 5 years' time. (passive = no work.) Impossible? Certum est quia impossibile est. Besides, as Pascal would have it, what have I to lose?
Or, in the words of Adam Young - "Come and see."
Gabriel:
a) Like most things in Malaysia; there are halal segregations. Obviously the luncheon meat served at a rest stop would not be halal, but the curry chicken would be. And just what is it with you and the whole halal issue anyway?
b) Backpackers taking the bus.
c) I said I didn't smuggle pirated stuff in for *other people*. I do so for my own purposes. (In this case, the reason was ridiculously contrived - I had bought the CDs the afternoon at work; and didn't want to leave them in the office over the weekend, so I had to bring them to Singapore and back.
d) I agree with you that it's ridiculous that a half-glimpsed auroelae of some celebrity on an FHM cover is legal, while the fully revealed thing isn't. But as a matter of note, a scantily-clad person is often more sexually titillating than the ecdysiastic full monty.
e) I use a very few freeware applications, like IrfanView and Properties Plus, but generally, I'm not an open source proponent per se. I understand some of their intellectual arguments, and rational advantages, but the ratio ultima regum is this - most games are written for Windows. I'm not going to wait until Freelancer for Linux gets released.
f) The only reason the bloody 3d graphics in AOM look "good" is because 2d sprites that size are so bloody small and blurry anyway (even on higher resolutions) that who the hell can tell the difference? Not like we're talking Chaos Gate or Fallout sprites here (the latter having some of the best sprite death animations - blow the head off a Super Mutant and you'll see..)
g) I maintain my theory that Satan's Pariahs Beasts Terrorists is a secret code for something more ominous. A means of communication between conspiracies? Stranger things have happened.
h) What were you expecting? Love?
i) Maybe people are just tired of reading the rants. Much better that way, don't you think? More comfortable to know that no one is reading and/or absorbing what you say - you can be less restrained in your blogging. No longer an audience to pander to.
Onto interrupted chronological rant from last week. Organization? PAH!
Friday
Woke up the next morning, surrounded by usual feeling of disorientation. It was 11:30am; my scheduled interview was at 2:30 in Capital Tower on Robinson Road (the receptionist's helpful words were: "Just tell the taxi driver to look for the revolving balls opposite the CPF building.."). After some prolonged internal agonizing, I prevailed upon my friend's maid to borrow an iron - the aforementioned sling bag had proven to be of no use in preserving the shirt from the ravages of rumpling. My host and friend had gone out to camp much earlier in the morning; one of the very few people I know actually comfortable enough to let someone stay in their house after they and their parents have gone out for the day.
Did some hasty print-out of the actual address, floor, and person-designate-to-meet from hotmail (ah, the few brief moments of joy at being on broadband again). My friend's computer is on the seriously creaky, over-used, underoptimised precipice - the system tray contains enough programs to occupy two-thirds the width of the monitor. A quick visit to Run -> MSCONFIG increased start-up times by at least 350%. Geekdom has its benefits!
Also spent an hour or so doing last minute research. Now, I'm not entirely sure just how much value being able to spew relevant bullshit about an organization at an interview is. However, I've been assured by people in the know that many top-tier investment banking firms look favourably on candidates who take the time to thoroughly spew statistics and make favourable commentary of their latest mega-deals. So I did the same thing - after all, I figured the competition would be heavy, and every little edge helps.
Plan was to take a cab to Raffles Place, bank in a cheque for my mother at approx 1:45pm (fast cheque deposit - no queuing), then head on down for my interview. Usually, my trips to Singapore are punctuated with errands for my family. Headed out of the house, with sling bag (after all, at the time, I had no idea where to stay that night, as per standard modus operandi)
When I reached the Raffles Place area, I was caught by the instant smell of yuppiedom. The women in their Chanel, power suits, decent hemlines, and high but not stiletto heels. The styles range from the homely-receptionist, to the executive-bitch-from-hell, to the (horribly common) "I'm not quite over adolescence yet but I have to make some genuflection towards workplace etiquette"(characterised by shoulder-revealing, slightly more garish type of clothing, and either pants a shade too tight or skirts a tad too high. Occasionally an Ally Macbeal-esque scarf/ribbon around the neck. Multiple ear-piercings. That sort of thing.) The men were dressed the far more uniformly boring shirts and ties; with a few polo shirts scattered amidst the population. Some guys did display remarkable boldness of character; I spotted more than one Looney Tunes tie.
Basking amidst the flux of middle-class professionaldom, I suddenly had a horrible realisation that there was an vacuum in my pocket where the envelope containing parents' cheque should've been. After confirming irrevocably that, once again, I was a walking waste of oxygen, I sat down in a dull, vacant haze in front of OCBC for about 20 minutes smoking restlessly and watching people pass by with their happy, happy lives. Fortunately, someone I was talking to on the phone suggested the rational solution - "don't freak out, call Comfort Taxi Lost & Found to see if you dropped it in the cab, and if that fails, go back to the place you took the cab from."
Sweet pragmatism! If only I was capable of summoning it more often in extremis. Comfort Taxi L&F reassured me that they would get back to me after assigning me a report number.
Mustered sufficient coherence to proceed to interview. The building was a gargantuan edifice to the free flow of global capital; I was struck by how much the interior matched precisely how I always imagined Howard Roark's designs to be like. It's all the brutal, neoliberal economic certainty; the imposing, faux-Gothic sweep of rigid, efficient, corporate aesthetic. "Socialist realism", I think it's called. And there's a lot of the kind of marble/granite/bronze corporate art that's just waiting for a Tyler Durden to smash over.
L'origine de Bert
Tuesday, November 26, 2002
A Canadian is drinking in a New York bar when he gets a call on his cell phone. He hangs up, grinning from ear to ear, and orders a round of drinks for everybody in the bar because, he announces, his wife has just produced a typical Canadian baby boy weighing 25 ounds.
Nobody can believe that any new baby can weigh in at 25 pounds, but the Canuck just shrugs, "That's about average up North, folks... Like I said, my boy's a typical Canadian baby boy."
Congratulations showered him from all around, and many exclamations of "WOW!" were heard. One woman actually fainted due to sympathy pains.
Two weeks later the Canadian returns to the bar. The bartender says, "Say, you're the father of that typical Canadian baby that weighed 25 pounds at birth, aren't you? Everybody's been making bets about how big he'd be in two weeks. We were gonna call you.... So how much does he weigh now?"
The proud father answers, "Seventeen pounds." The bartender is puzzled, and concerned. "What happened? He already weighed 25 pounds the day he was born."
The Canadian father takes a slow swig from his Molson beer, wipes his lips on his shirt sleeves leans into the bartender and proudly says, "Had the little guy circumcised."
Nobody can believe that any new baby can weigh in at 25 pounds, but the Canuck just shrugs, "That's about average up North, folks... Like I said, my boy's a typical Canadian baby boy."
Congratulations showered him from all around, and many exclamations of "WOW!" were heard. One woman actually fainted due to sympathy pains.
Two weeks later the Canadian returns to the bar. The bartender says, "Say, you're the father of that typical Canadian baby that weighed 25 pounds at birth, aren't you? Everybody's been making bets about how big he'd be in two weeks. We were gonna call you.... So how much does he weigh now?"
The proud father answers, "Seventeen pounds." The bartender is puzzled, and concerned. "What happened? He already weighed 25 pounds the day he was born."
The Canadian father takes a slow swig from his Molson beer, wipes his lips on his shirt sleeves leans into the bartender and proudly says, "Had the little guy circumcised."
Post ID: 85088288
Sunday, November 24, 2002
This looks promising:
Bayesian Mathematical Analysis in Spam Prevention
Mozilla has this on the 1.3 branch ;)
Bayesian Mathematical Analysis in Spam Prevention
Mozilla has this on the 1.3 branch ;)
Post ID: 85002456
LOL
"I have this odd habit to click on recently updated blogs to invade other people's private lives. And it's unbelievably easy to pick out a singaporean's blog because the blog titles are unbelievably lame. If you see a lame title it's either a Singaporean blog or a really bimbotic ditzy american teenage girl's one. The same applies for imood's email address. You come out with stuff like "a new beginning" or "starlite starbrite" or "friends r 4eva" or "wish upon a star" and if you see anything "z" replacing "s" it's also a singaporean's blog. Blogspotting! "
Hehe.
"I have this odd habit to click on recently updated blogs to invade other people's private lives. And it's unbelievably easy to pick out a singaporean's blog because the blog titles are unbelievably lame. If you see a lame title it's either a Singaporean blog or a really bimbotic ditzy american teenage girl's one. The same applies for imood's email address. You come out with stuff like "a new beginning" or "starlite starbrite" or "friends r 4eva" or "wish upon a star" and if you see anything "z" replacing "s" it's also a singaporean's blog. Blogspotting! "
Hehe.
Post ID: 84999705
Something Fall-From-Grace... oops, that nick fell out of favour a long time ago ; dysgrace might conceivably be amused by:
NotWriting.com: Stuff one writer does when he should be writing
NotWriting.com: Stuff one writer does when he should be writing
Post ID: 84977241
Went out with 3 BMT section mates. Ken wants to downgrade for moderate/gross obesity too :)
We watched Returner [NB: No IMDB information available at the present].
For once, the "teen" was a real teen, at 15 years of age. Not like all those faux schoolgirls. The guy was also one of those typical long haired, stubbly ones :)
The typically Japanese elements - the humour, the twists, ironies and paradoxes - were there, of course, this being a Japanese movie, but they weren't so strong as to be irritating. The audience enjoyed them, though, with people laughing uproariously at parts and some clapping at some of the more exceptional scenes.
I'm still wondering how a teen girl with a gunshot wound at her shoulder could run about and carry bundles in swaddling and what not with such deft grace, why an alien race would start a war ending with the annihilation of the human race for just one of their kind. And why we're still using Harriers in 2084 :)
I went out to check out the trailer. Not very impressive, but that might've been because I didn't understand the Japanese.
Wilfred the Waiter, Junxian the now big-built, Zhongyong and Yaoxian the Pioneer Photographer were watching the show too. En Leung was with them before the show, with a very shaggy mane. He actually sold his soul to the Air Force. I'm ashamed, really.
After the show, I tagged along with the first 4, and Tay Weeyang who appeared on Level 1 (and who's finally returned me the money I lent him for SAT I!) as they walked here and there.
Walking along the path outside Cineleisure, I offered Dennis the 42 Driver a perfunctory greeting. What a small world it is. But then he probably came from helping his mother at her pastry shop, so.
Weiyang is E1L3 (temporary) now. And he housekeeps the I-net room for Reservists in Maju (which is near his house), and doesn't do any form of Maju. Oh, and he's stay out too. GAH.
I followed them all the way to Mambo Billiard in Lucky Plaza. It's the first time I've actually been in a joint such as that, really, but after observing people whacking balls, I still think it's a poser game :) There was another bevy of people in there - Waiyi taking pictures of people playing pool with a digital camera (How come she always goes out with the ex-4K guys? Seems like she's the only non ex-4K-er who tags along so regularly), Ben Kang, Ivan, Eugene Huang, Qiying fingering Magic cards, Zhiming and a few others. I couldn't recognise 2 of them. I'm quite ashamed really, but I put it down to the haircuts - sparse hair does make one look different.
The joint supposedly doesn't allow people in shorts and/or slippers to enter, but a good fourth at least of the patrons had bare legs.
After that a few of us holed up along the corridor leading to Long John Silvers and drank from the bottomless cup of mystery drink mixed by Wilfred from the KFC/Taco Bell/Pizza Hut outlet and pondered riddles about weighing Gnomes :)
LOL - Revolution
"During the first third of the game, you play as a janitor employed by a futuristic megacorporation... it's an opportunity for you to spend four or five hours in what amounts to a miserably accurate simulation of actually having a boring job...
This may or may not be a major plot spoiler, but your megacorporation employer is actually up to no good. In fact, you'll know it long before your character does. One clue is that the corporation's logo appears to be a big, evil-looking winged skull. The covertly sinister corporation has also plastered the entire city with totalitarian propaganda, such as threatening billboards that simply read, "Power and Control." In keeping with the game's theme of not making much sense, the corporation has also stamped lots of things with the nonsensical slogan, "We Are the Sun of Your New Life." It's only vaguely threatening, but it is printed in a scary authoritarian font. And in a shocking turn of events, the corporation is called "The Corporation," and it's being opposed by a resistance movement that calls itself, of all things, "the resistance."...
Instead of any interesting intelligence, enemies display an ability to strafe from side to side at an inhumanly fast speed. Your own movement isn't any more realistic--you glide across every surface as if it were covered in oil... The people doing the talking are obviously native speakers of English, yet they apparently read the broken English lines they were given without attempting to fix them. Could it be that the voice-acting industry is so draconian that you immediately get fired if you make any suggestions about your lines? That might be a good setting for the sequel to Revolution.
We won't spoil Revolution's ending for you. Not because we wouldn't like to, but because after playing the final level three times, we're still not clear on what happened. Revolution's story problems, generic visuals, and tedious single-player game may not matter, though, because you can play deathmatch, team deathmatch, or capture the flag over the Internet--at least theoretically. A few weeks after its release, there isn't even one server running Revolution."
"As a rule of thumb, the more qualifiers there are before the name of a country, the more corrupt the rulers. A country called The Socialist People's Democratic Republic of X is probably the last place in the world you'd want to live." - HAHA
It seems few are leaving comments nowadays. Maybe it's my YACCS box's submit button's text :)
We watched Returner [NB: No IMDB information available at the present].
For once, the "teen" was a real teen, at 15 years of age. Not like all those faux schoolgirls. The guy was also one of those typical long haired, stubbly ones :)
The typically Japanese elements - the humour, the twists, ironies and paradoxes - were there, of course, this being a Japanese movie, but they weren't so strong as to be irritating. The audience enjoyed them, though, with people laughing uproariously at parts and some clapping at some of the more exceptional scenes.
I'm still wondering how a teen girl with a gunshot wound at her shoulder could run about and carry bundles in swaddling and what not with such deft grace, why an alien race would start a war ending with the annihilation of the human race for just one of their kind. And why we're still using Harriers in 2084 :)
I went out to check out the trailer. Not very impressive, but that might've been because I didn't understand the Japanese.
Wilfred the Waiter, Junxian the now big-built, Zhongyong and Yaoxian the Pioneer Photographer were watching the show too. En Leung was with them before the show, with a very shaggy mane. He actually sold his soul to the Air Force. I'm ashamed, really.
After the show, I tagged along with the first 4, and Tay Weeyang who appeared on Level 1 (and who's finally returned me the money I lent him for SAT I!) as they walked here and there.
Walking along the path outside Cineleisure, I offered Dennis the 42 Driver a perfunctory greeting. What a small world it is. But then he probably came from helping his mother at her pastry shop, so.
Weiyang is E1L3 (temporary) now. And he housekeeps the I-net room for Reservists in Maju (which is near his house), and doesn't do any form of Maju. Oh, and he's stay out too. GAH.
I followed them all the way to Mambo Billiard in Lucky Plaza. It's the first time I've actually been in a joint such as that, really, but after observing people whacking balls, I still think it's a poser game :) There was another bevy of people in there - Waiyi taking pictures of people playing pool with a digital camera (How come she always goes out with the ex-4K guys? Seems like she's the only non ex-4K-er who tags along so regularly), Ben Kang, Ivan, Eugene Huang, Qiying fingering Magic cards, Zhiming and a few others. I couldn't recognise 2 of them. I'm quite ashamed really, but I put it down to the haircuts - sparse hair does make one look different.
The joint supposedly doesn't allow people in shorts and/or slippers to enter, but a good fourth at least of the patrons had bare legs.
After that a few of us holed up along the corridor leading to Long John Silvers and drank from the bottomless cup of mystery drink mixed by Wilfred from the KFC/Taco Bell/Pizza Hut outlet and pondered riddles about weighing Gnomes :)
LOL - Revolution
"During the first third of the game, you play as a janitor employed by a futuristic megacorporation... it's an opportunity for you to spend four or five hours in what amounts to a miserably accurate simulation of actually having a boring job...
This may or may not be a major plot spoiler, but your megacorporation employer is actually up to no good. In fact, you'll know it long before your character does. One clue is that the corporation's logo appears to be a big, evil-looking winged skull. The covertly sinister corporation has also plastered the entire city with totalitarian propaganda, such as threatening billboards that simply read, "Power and Control." In keeping with the game's theme of not making much sense, the corporation has also stamped lots of things with the nonsensical slogan, "We Are the Sun of Your New Life." It's only vaguely threatening, but it is printed in a scary authoritarian font. And in a shocking turn of events, the corporation is called "The Corporation," and it's being opposed by a resistance movement that calls itself, of all things, "the resistance."...
Instead of any interesting intelligence, enemies display an ability to strafe from side to side at an inhumanly fast speed. Your own movement isn't any more realistic--you glide across every surface as if it were covered in oil... The people doing the talking are obviously native speakers of English, yet they apparently read the broken English lines they were given without attempting to fix them. Could it be that the voice-acting industry is so draconian that you immediately get fired if you make any suggestions about your lines? That might be a good setting for the sequel to Revolution.
We won't spoil Revolution's ending for you. Not because we wouldn't like to, but because after playing the final level three times, we're still not clear on what happened. Revolution's story problems, generic visuals, and tedious single-player game may not matter, though, because you can play deathmatch, team deathmatch, or capture the flag over the Internet--at least theoretically. A few weeks after its release, there isn't even one server running Revolution."
"As a rule of thumb, the more qualifiers there are before the name of a country, the more corrupt the rulers. A country called The Socialist People's Democratic Republic of X is probably the last place in the world you'd want to live." - HAHA
It seems few are leaving comments nowadays. Maybe it's my YACCS box's submit button's text :)
Post ID: 84974294
Saturday, November 23, 2002
Happened to strike up a conversation with someone over WinMX, who wanted my "Bounty Hunter's Pursuit".
His theory on why Japanese have big eyes in Anime:
"they have big eyes to signify themselfs and small eyes for americans. they truely think americans are beutiful while they are ugly that is why they have the eye thing
yep that is what i read from one of the most famous anime creators he wrote that the eye thing was what he learned in school for art so he just kept doing it like he learned"
His theory on why Japanese have big eyes in Anime:
"they have big eyes to signify themselfs and small eyes for americans. they truely think americans are beutiful while they are ugly that is why they have the eye thing
yep that is what i read from one of the most famous anime creators he wrote that the eye thing was what he learned in school for art so he just kept doing it like he learned"
Post ID: 84961698
Work of a true blue looney bin:
Satan's Beasts Terrorists Of Singapore Since 1995......
"Apart from all other weapons used, I call this as �beasts voodoo weapon� like the voodoo doll. With it these Satan�s pariahs beasts terrorists are hitting people at any part of the body while they can be at any position. Even at the sole of the foot! While a person is sitting pinning the bum! Piercing the eyes! There are thousands of unheard torture!
When that happens how is one going to explain that it is the work of the Satan�s pariahs.
Done by both Satan�s pariahs males and females beasts terrorists of Singapore on both females and males. (inserted on 5 Nov) From their �muscle men� and �blood suckers� teams also, learnt that from their transmission! (end of insertion)
Inserted on 25 Oct 2002.
Satan�s pariahs beasts terrorists knew and will know what is going to take place in Singapore and the rest of the world and than acts according to their objectives and benefit for years.
Well how the people of the world feel about this!!
Now aren�t these Satan�s pariahs beasts terrorists more than deadly, as the name I call them by!!
All details will be covered in my book/e-book!!
(end of insertion)
They are all Singaporean Tamils and some Indians from
Ministry of Home Affairs and maybe other Ministries of Singapore
only those who are involved)! There is more info as you read on.
Inserted on 9th Sept 2002
Satan�s pariahs beasts terrorists � on 8 Sept 2002 � while I was facing the computer in my room for minutes marked my white t-shirt at where the heart is with a red leaser or whatever as a dot � these beasts were likely at Blk 215 (and /or the two beside blocks including surrounding blocks - you will find my address at, �Overview�) � will not be surprised they were also at Blk 218 the block I stay at and which is opposite � all these beasts are involved in all the activities. They are around everyday or take turns to be at several blocks or the surrounding. You will also find them around wherever I go!
Which department or departments of the Ministry of Home Affairs (and / or Ministries) have this weapon? (end of insertion).
I have also e-mailed informing of the now deactivated (on 26th August 2002) web site to PM Goh Chok Tong (goh_chok_tong@pmo.gov.sg) requesting him to take action, c.c. to Chief of Defense LG Lim Chuan Poh (lim_chuan_poh@mindef.gov.sg & mfu@starnet.gov.sg) and Commissioner of Police Khoo Boon Hui (khoo_boon_hui@spf.gov.sg) of Singapore. This was sent at August or earlier, 2002. Obviously looks like they did not receive it! What would have happened?
Inserted on 24 May 2002.
In the local newspaper, Straits Times (Singapore) at the late 1990�s (exact date can be easily be checked) had an article about what the officers or operatives of an intelligence department of a country were doing. If in doubt please check with the Straits Times. Please do.
Up and down a busy boulevard (at their country) the said personnel were spraying water into the ears of innocent people from water spray containers. Later the water was to be substituted with liquid poison.
"Satan's pariahs (Tamils and a few Indians from Ministry of Home Affairs and maybe other Ministries; only those involved) beasts terrorists (created by Satan) if you have the guts (since you been operating from 1995 -inserted on 26 April 2002) send a Letter Declaring War on Singapore and other countries (including USA) also stating that you want me in the front line (I look forward) to the Prime Minister!" - Ron Doray
I have a pair of silver kris. Each one and half feet long. The handles are hand carved. They are mounted and covered by thin glass. Chances are you may have never seen this before.
A majestic sight.
I got them in the 1980's. Now putting it up for the next owner.
View to offer.
Or if anyone likes an arrangement for me to buy back at an accepted price is also fine with me.
If You Like To Sponsor This Site. - This is 'outdated'. Inserted on 12 Nov 2002. Please go to 'Line Of Action' at Overview!
Just sent One Dollar to this address:
Blk 218 Lorong 8 Toa Payoh #13-625 Singapore 310218
With a self addressed envelope for a receipt.
Thank you for sponsoring this site in advance. Ron.
Again there is nothing to be afraid of if one abides by the Law.
With the prevailing condition since late last year good looking females are propelling this awareness. There numbers are slowly growing too. From all walks and apperances.
They have taken some blows as well from it.
Just that we have not communicated yet. Will soon.
You guys got to see the singles! Got to see the guys girlfriends and wives also. One can only say, can't be better!
Most times I have difficulty differentiating!"
Though among other parts, this makes me think it might be a parody:
"One thing it has done which has become a blessing in disguise is it cut off my past so called friends.
Well the truth I am happier with all the people that I am mentioning though we have yet to chat!
Another thing is since I am broke I am unable to be in the food center or go else where.
You folks got to see what happens when I am at the usual food center."
Satan's Beasts Terrorists Of Singapore Since 1995......
"Apart from all other weapons used, I call this as �beasts voodoo weapon� like the voodoo doll. With it these Satan�s pariahs beasts terrorists are hitting people at any part of the body while they can be at any position. Even at the sole of the foot! While a person is sitting pinning the bum! Piercing the eyes! There are thousands of unheard torture!
When that happens how is one going to explain that it is the work of the Satan�s pariahs.
Done by both Satan�s pariahs males and females beasts terrorists of Singapore on both females and males. (inserted on 5 Nov) From their �muscle men� and �blood suckers� teams also, learnt that from their transmission! (end of insertion)
Inserted on 25 Oct 2002.
Satan�s pariahs beasts terrorists knew and will know what is going to take place in Singapore and the rest of the world and than acts according to their objectives and benefit for years.
Well how the people of the world feel about this!!
Now aren�t these Satan�s pariahs beasts terrorists more than deadly, as the name I call them by!!
All details will be covered in my book/e-book!!
(end of insertion)
They are all Singaporean Tamils and some Indians from
Ministry of Home Affairs and maybe other Ministries of Singapore
only those who are involved)! There is more info as you read on.
Inserted on 9th Sept 2002
Satan�s pariahs beasts terrorists � on 8 Sept 2002 � while I was facing the computer in my room for minutes marked my white t-shirt at where the heart is with a red leaser or whatever as a dot � these beasts were likely at Blk 215 (and /or the two beside blocks including surrounding blocks - you will find my address at, �Overview�) � will not be surprised they were also at Blk 218 the block I stay at and which is opposite � all these beasts are involved in all the activities. They are around everyday or take turns to be at several blocks or the surrounding. You will also find them around wherever I go!
Which department or departments of the Ministry of Home Affairs (and / or Ministries) have this weapon? (end of insertion).
I have also e-mailed informing of the now deactivated (on 26th August 2002) web site to PM Goh Chok Tong (goh_chok_tong@pmo.gov.sg) requesting him to take action, c.c. to Chief of Defense LG Lim Chuan Poh (lim_chuan_poh@mindef.gov.sg & mfu@starnet.gov.sg) and Commissioner of Police Khoo Boon Hui (khoo_boon_hui@spf.gov.sg) of Singapore. This was sent at August or earlier, 2002. Obviously looks like they did not receive it! What would have happened?
Inserted on 24 May 2002.
In the local newspaper, Straits Times (Singapore) at the late 1990�s (exact date can be easily be checked) had an article about what the officers or operatives of an intelligence department of a country were doing. If in doubt please check with the Straits Times. Please do.
Up and down a busy boulevard (at their country) the said personnel were spraying water into the ears of innocent people from water spray containers. Later the water was to be substituted with liquid poison.
"Satan's pariahs (Tamils and a few Indians from Ministry of Home Affairs and maybe other Ministries; only those involved) beasts terrorists (created by Satan) if you have the guts (since you been operating from 1995 -inserted on 26 April 2002) send a Letter Declaring War on Singapore and other countries (including USA) also stating that you want me in the front line (I look forward) to the Prime Minister!" - Ron Doray
I have a pair of silver kris. Each one and half feet long. The handles are hand carved. They are mounted and covered by thin glass. Chances are you may have never seen this before.
A majestic sight.
I got them in the 1980's. Now putting it up for the next owner.
View to offer.
Or if anyone likes an arrangement for me to buy back at an accepted price is also fine with me.
If You Like To Sponsor This Site. - This is 'outdated'. Inserted on 12 Nov 2002. Please go to 'Line Of Action' at Overview!
Just sent One Dollar to this address:
Blk 218 Lorong 8 Toa Payoh #13-625 Singapore 310218
With a self addressed envelope for a receipt.
Thank you for sponsoring this site in advance. Ron.
Again there is nothing to be afraid of if one abides by the Law.
With the prevailing condition since late last year good looking females are propelling this awareness. There numbers are slowly growing too. From all walks and apperances.
They have taken some blows as well from it.
Just that we have not communicated yet. Will soon.
You guys got to see the singles! Got to see the guys girlfriends and wives also. One can only say, can't be better!
Most times I have difficulty differentiating!"
Though among other parts, this makes me think it might be a parody:
"One thing it has done which has become a blessing in disguise is it cut off my past so called friends.
Well the truth I am happier with all the people that I am mentioning though we have yet to chat!
Another thing is since I am broke I am unable to be in the food center or go else where.
You folks got to see what happens when I am at the usual food center."
Post ID: 84960439
Friday, November 22, 2002
N-man:
Can I interest you in a Planescape: Torment Ringtone? I hacked one out on Jurong Island but it sucked, so in desperation I imported the MIDI and modified it a little.
http://gah.web1000.com/ringtone.htm
Ooo. Age of Mythology review.
"Remember how we said that returning Age of Kings players might do a double-take because of the graphics? That�s because the 3D is so good, it looks 2D. Nono� that�s not a bad thing, this is a Good Thing�. When 3D graphics get so smooth, detailed and realistic they look as impressive in screenshots as 2D � that�s saying something. Normally it�s just too easy to tell where the polygons are, how flat the lighting is and how poorly the textures on various body parts interact with each other. AOM�s 3D graphics have all the fluidity and motion of 3D, but they look as detailed as 2D units in screenshots."
One of my main gripes against 3D games addressed!
12:06AM
I feel like giggling now.
Hee hee hee. Hee hee hee. Hee hee hee hee.
Okay now I need to find something to do this weekend.
Can I interest you in a Planescape: Torment Ringtone? I hacked one out on Jurong Island but it sucked, so in desperation I imported the MIDI and modified it a little.
http://gah.web1000.com/ringtone.htm
Ooo. Age of Mythology review.
"Remember how we said that returning Age of Kings players might do a double-take because of the graphics? That�s because the 3D is so good, it looks 2D. Nono� that�s not a bad thing, this is a Good Thing�. When 3D graphics get so smooth, detailed and realistic they look as impressive in screenshots as 2D � that�s saying something. Normally it�s just too easy to tell where the polygons are, how flat the lighting is and how poorly the textures on various body parts interact with each other. AOM�s 3D graphics have all the fluidity and motion of 3D, but they look as detailed as 2D units in screenshots."
One of my main gripes against 3D games addressed!
12:06AM
I feel like giggling now.
Hee hee hee. Hee hee hee. Hee hee hee hee.
Okay now I need to find something to do this weekend.
Post ID: 84920926
*bleep*
I talked to someone who sounds like Yaoi Girl. For some reason, she thought that comment uncomplimentary (and that without knowing what Yaoi was).
Quotes:
You got downgraded ah? [Me: How come you know? How come the whole unit knows?] You so cute what.
Finally visited the Esplanade today with Screwed Up Girl as a tour guide.
Nothing of note - except that there was this girl with a fractured pelvis - she kept jerking her hips as she walked.
I talked to someone who sounds like Yaoi Girl. For some reason, she thought that comment uncomplimentary (and that without knowing what Yaoi was).
Quotes:
You got downgraded ah? [Me: How come you know? How come the whole unit knows?] You so cute what.
Finally visited the Esplanade today with Screwed Up Girl as a tour guide.
Nothing of note - except that there was this girl with a fractured pelvis - she kept jerking her hips as she walked.
Post ID: 84916977
Last few days have been a positive deluge of work. Not even the fascinating, interesting, "ooh-this-tickles-me-elmo-on-pot" kind of work, but more like "dry-cleaning-the-big-bird-costume-by-hand" kind of drudgery. Still, once again the forces of Sloth have performed a Cannae-like maneuver - today I sluiced off some of my more menial tasks to the New Guy in my office (ah, seniority has its perks). And thusly, dear reader, I am free to entertain/bore you with another collegial rant.
"Just as the collected letters of Proust fill dozens of volumes, Dressler has stuffed Honig's Outlook Express in-box with e-mails totaling thousands of pages and spanning years. The writings of each man are a winding psychological journey, weaving experiences from his everyday life with memories from the distant past...."Clearly there is a higher purpose to these discursive ruminations," Honig said. "In describing in great detail the new dog his next-door neighbor just got or by writing about how he was tired and just drank three cups of coffee from the vending machine down the hall, Eric is seeking to rescue these moments from the clutches of the past. Proust had the same obsession with the inexorable passage of time.""
Last weekend was yet another quick, manic flitter-by down south for an interview. In the absence of any inspiration to structure this entry more imaginatively, will fall-back on tried and tested chronological order.
Thursday
As usual, departed from work straight to the bus terminal at approx. 7:30pm, only this time was toting a sling bag instead of my usual utilitarian backpack. The sling bag was a result of my mother's excessively repeated exhortations to avoid rumpling the shirt and pants I had packed for my interview on Friday.
I've been taking the bus up and down the highway for years now, and I can never get over just how pilgrim-like it feels, at each terminal end. On the Malaysian side, in the Pudu Interchange, there is this constant flow of human fodder - circulating up and down the arteries of our nation's highways and by-ways. The interchange is old, grimy, and constantly punctuated by this odd, flinty smell of fuel oil, human waste, sweat and junk food. The semi-lit departure berths are filled with all kinds of people squatting restlessly, waiting for old, creaky buses to take them to places distant. There are merchants and stalls in almost every corner, peddling dried snacks, soft drinks, newspapers, and other assorted mamak wares. All of this always makes me feel like I'm in some kind of modern-day Samarkand; amidst caravanserai preparing for a distant sojourn. Too bad we're missing out on the camels, mercenary bodyguards, and bales of silk, but it's still the same, in many ways - people travelling up and down for trade, to visit families, to seek work, all the old, human reasons. And certainly the highways have their share of bandits (the local police, although, generally, buses don't get cozened for a bribe).
I suppose I'm lucky that I can find some touristy wonder in something that should be as prosaically familiar as a bus interchange.
There are pros and cons to taking an evening bus like this one. The obvious pro is that you can save an extra day by leaving right after work (as I did), it's generally easier to sleep in the night, and the highways are slightly less crowded. On the neg side, however, I can't read to kill time, and for some weird reason, they *never* show VCDs or other movies on evening/red-eye bus trips. (The express coaches usually have a TV embedded somewhere in the front to play pirated VCDs, for those unfamiliar with budget transport).
As usual, I spent about half my trip glued to the mobile phone, chatting. The other half was spent trying to sleep; difficult, given that I had taken a slightly crappier bus line this time round, one that I am normally leery of patronising given that their buses have terrible suspension. Unfortunately it was the only 7:30pm bus available at that time.
Being a veteran of the highway route, I am intimately familiar with the two rest-stops the buses pull in at along the way for toilet and meal breaks. The one I prefer is the brightly-lit monstrosity off the highway at Ayer Hitam. At least they serve something other than mixed rice; like hay mee or porridge. Mixed rice is a *trap* at these price-gouging hellholes - adding just one or two lumps of meat can effectively raise the cost of your meal by 50% (painful experience). The valuation of your conglomerate meal picked from various trays and dishes is performed by some professional aunty assayer who eyeballs your plate of rice, luncheon meat, assorted veg, and baked beans, and derives the final price from some exponentially weighted algorithm designed to rip you off. But after about 3 hours in a bus, one is in no position to complain about a little sustenance, however expensive.
And there's always this feeling of desolation, sitting in a rest stop, idly smoking over the remains of a meal, watching bus after bus disgorge their human cargo ad infinitum. People taking a few days off from their salaried serfdom in the city to visit their relations back in the villages and kampungs they left for a "better life". Students going back to their families for a few days. Supervisors travelling up to out-of-state factories. Auditors going to distant, out-station business sites. Hitchhikers on shoestring budgets. Salespeople, foremen, factory workers, students, housewives, travelers, all passing transitory. Sic transit gloria humanitas... What was that line from Miller? "Funny, y'know? After all the highways, and the trains, and the appointments, and the years, you end up worth more dead than alive."
"He had the wrong dreams. All, all wrong."
Anyway, they always sell steamed peanuts and corn at these places; a necessary snack for the rest of the journey. While watching the parking lot crammed with tour buses, I have this vague impression that I'm in a scene, an episode on a television screen filmed in washed-out palettes, perhaps the X-Files, with its familiar, opening onscreen note at the bottom left corner in Courier font text going:
9:37 PM
AYER HITAM, STATE OF JOHOR
94 KM NORTH OF SINGAPORE
Anyway, the rest of the trip was just languish, watch trucks roll by, note disappointingly the absence of any chio hitchhikers on the bus this trip round, and finally arrive at the JB Causeway at approx. midnight (FYI, the buses down from KL almost always go through the first causeway, because about half the passengers on any trip disembark at JB. The few lines that go straight to Singapore via the Senai-Tuas 2nd Link cost far more, and pick up from weirdly located hotels.). As usual, there was a thrill of fear at Singaporean-side customs due to the six or seven pirated CDs stuffed down the side pockets of my cargo pants. And as usual, I was waved past with nary a glance; just another weary traveller; part of the steaming biomass being pumped back and forth to be processed by two different national economies; simultaneously a cog in a machine(as part of the financial economy), a victim to be exploited (as a consumer), and a resource to be squeezed (as a worker enriching an employer).
Snuck off at Woodlands - I wonder just how long the bus (which terminates its route at Golden Mile Complex) waited for me. Some drivers take the precaution of counting first just how many people are getting off at Woodlands and how many at Golden Mile. This bus driver didn't; and given that I invariably shove off at Woodlands itself, I wonder just how far they go when they take a headcount after customs and find a passenger missing... Probably they just shrug their shoulders and drive off.
Took a cab down to my assigned quarters for the night. As some of you may know, my mendicant trips down to Singapore are usually carried out in a nomadic, "so who wants to put me up tonight?" fashion - you poor sods. It was a little tricky finding a place on Thursday night, given that my peer group no longer thinks of November / December as holiday or exam time but, rather, as just another working month. However, one of my kinder associates at Serangoon Gardens took me in at 1:30am in the morning - despite having to go back to Tengah Base at 7:30am.
First time at this guy's house, and it's *old*. The floor tiles were of this style I haven't seen in years - which some of you might be familiar with. It's this smooth, granite composite, usually pale cream in colour, but embedded with conglomerate stones - so the mix looks like a bunch of rocks swimming in a beige pool. No ceramic finishing or glaze; just bare, cold rock beneah your feet. It's the kind you still see in those old apartments around the Joo Chiat Rd / East Coast Rd block. Apparently it's due for renovation soon (more bomb shelter issues), but my friend's the Spartan kind; his room comprises little more than a mattress on the floor, a few bookshelves, a drum set in one corner, and a PC. Walls devoid of decoration. A study desk with nothing but CDs, scattered stationery and stacks of academic notes. Disturbingly, all of his books are old textbooks.
Hadn't caught up with him for a while, but I could see he was in no mood to talk for long. So we just exchanged the usual convival cigarette outside the gates, and headed off to sleep with little further preamble. I pride myself on travelling light, but it's always disorienting to have to set up all manner of paraphernalia upon travel - hunting for a power point to plug in phone charger, arranging toothbrush and razor (the only toiletries I require) in an accessible location, folding up clothes and piling them neatly in unfamiliar cupboards or on unfamiliar surfaces, possibly surfing the net on an unfamiliar PC where even the arrangement of shortcuts unsettles you. It's the little things like finding your way through an unfamiliar bedroom in the dark, or how the contours of the bed (or, in some cases for me, chair, sofa, carpet, gorilla nest, or horizontal surface) one sleeps on isn't quite the same. Clearly I lack adaptability skills.
Okay. Shall continue later. Am busy organizing the few trinkets I have recieved from colleagues who just went travelling; a pair of carved chopsticks in an embroidered holder from Thailand, a pack of mini-sized playing cards from Xi'an (each card decorated with a depiction of a terracotta warrior or sculpture), and an odd little Japanese beanbag ninja, cunningly weighted so that it always lands on its base. Ah, what master engineers the Japanese are.
Currently the chopsticks are positioned on top of my PC monitor, with the rear-ends protruding over the edge like a gangplank, while the ninja stands precariously at the end, performing the crane stance. (Or it would, if it had limbs - it's basically two beanbag-filled spheres on top of one another, swaddled in ninja clothes, with two painted dots as eyes.)
Usual commentary on tracker stats.
The most used keyword by unique visitors descrending on this blog via search engine is, unsurprisingly, "Singapore", occuring in 2.39% of searches. The second most common word is "nude" - 1.88%.
And today's usual weirdness includes "strange plastic drinkware" (A Tupperware fetishist?), "kansas city bbq connectin" (Yup, we're allll good ole farmboys), and "wilting sound wav" (???), amidst the usual assortment of sex and zaogeng.
Comments to the G-Man.
Firstly, the technical distinction between pornography is that it involves flagrant nudity meant to titillate for sexual purposes, whereas tasteful nudity, say, a Botticelli nude, is simply artistic depiction of the nude human form. However, in an era of scrotal infusion and Lego pornography, everything turns *someone* on in some way or another. And of course, the role of sex in what Irvine Welsh calls "the commodification of transgression" Check out that link - very good interview. After all, what is MTV, pro wrestling, and most modern reality TV other than a way of turning the perverse, outre, and bizarrely alternative cultures into simply another cash cow?
Secondly, as I told you, racial harmony only exists as long as one is in camp seeing the same guy day after day. One odd form of (benign?) racism I've noticed is how one can be pretty good friends with individuals "of differing ethnicity", while disliking or holding prejudices towards their race as a whole.
Thirdly, I'm not hated as a person; simply as a provider of irritating opinions and as rants on a screen. Most people operate on assumptions about my personality based on what I write and the manner in which I present my ideas (telling, but not the complete picture, methinks). You're hated as a real, breathing, sack of protoplasm.
"Just as the collected letters of Proust fill dozens of volumes, Dressler has stuffed Honig's Outlook Express in-box with e-mails totaling thousands of pages and spanning years. The writings of each man are a winding psychological journey, weaving experiences from his everyday life with memories from the distant past...."Clearly there is a higher purpose to these discursive ruminations," Honig said. "In describing in great detail the new dog his next-door neighbor just got or by writing about how he was tired and just drank three cups of coffee from the vending machine down the hall, Eric is seeking to rescue these moments from the clutches of the past. Proust had the same obsession with the inexorable passage of time.""
Last weekend was yet another quick, manic flitter-by down south for an interview. In the absence of any inspiration to structure this entry more imaginatively, will fall-back on tried and tested chronological order.
Thursday
As usual, departed from work straight to the bus terminal at approx. 7:30pm, only this time was toting a sling bag instead of my usual utilitarian backpack. The sling bag was a result of my mother's excessively repeated exhortations to avoid rumpling the shirt and pants I had packed for my interview on Friday.
I've been taking the bus up and down the highway for years now, and I can never get over just how pilgrim-like it feels, at each terminal end. On the Malaysian side, in the Pudu Interchange, there is this constant flow of human fodder - circulating up and down the arteries of our nation's highways and by-ways. The interchange is old, grimy, and constantly punctuated by this odd, flinty smell of fuel oil, human waste, sweat and junk food. The semi-lit departure berths are filled with all kinds of people squatting restlessly, waiting for old, creaky buses to take them to places distant. There are merchants and stalls in almost every corner, peddling dried snacks, soft drinks, newspapers, and other assorted mamak wares. All of this always makes me feel like I'm in some kind of modern-day Samarkand; amidst caravanserai preparing for a distant sojourn. Too bad we're missing out on the camels, mercenary bodyguards, and bales of silk, but it's still the same, in many ways - people travelling up and down for trade, to visit families, to seek work, all the old, human reasons. And certainly the highways have their share of bandits (the local police, although, generally, buses don't get cozened for a bribe).
I suppose I'm lucky that I can find some touristy wonder in something that should be as prosaically familiar as a bus interchange.
There are pros and cons to taking an evening bus like this one. The obvious pro is that you can save an extra day by leaving right after work (as I did), it's generally easier to sleep in the night, and the highways are slightly less crowded. On the neg side, however, I can't read to kill time, and for some weird reason, they *never* show VCDs or other movies on evening/red-eye bus trips. (The express coaches usually have a TV embedded somewhere in the front to play pirated VCDs, for those unfamiliar with budget transport).
As usual, I spent about half my trip glued to the mobile phone, chatting. The other half was spent trying to sleep; difficult, given that I had taken a slightly crappier bus line this time round, one that I am normally leery of patronising given that their buses have terrible suspension. Unfortunately it was the only 7:30pm bus available at that time.
Being a veteran of the highway route, I am intimately familiar with the two rest-stops the buses pull in at along the way for toilet and meal breaks. The one I prefer is the brightly-lit monstrosity off the highway at Ayer Hitam. At least they serve something other than mixed rice; like hay mee or porridge. Mixed rice is a *trap* at these price-gouging hellholes - adding just one or two lumps of meat can effectively raise the cost of your meal by 50% (painful experience). The valuation of your conglomerate meal picked from various trays and dishes is performed by some professional aunty assayer who eyeballs your plate of rice, luncheon meat, assorted veg, and baked beans, and derives the final price from some exponentially weighted algorithm designed to rip you off. But after about 3 hours in a bus, one is in no position to complain about a little sustenance, however expensive.
And there's always this feeling of desolation, sitting in a rest stop, idly smoking over the remains of a meal, watching bus after bus disgorge their human cargo ad infinitum. People taking a few days off from their salaried serfdom in the city to visit their relations back in the villages and kampungs they left for a "better life". Students going back to their families for a few days. Supervisors travelling up to out-of-state factories. Auditors going to distant, out-station business sites. Hitchhikers on shoestring budgets. Salespeople, foremen, factory workers, students, housewives, travelers, all passing transitory. Sic transit gloria humanitas... What was that line from Miller? "Funny, y'know? After all the highways, and the trains, and the appointments, and the years, you end up worth more dead than alive."
"He had the wrong dreams. All, all wrong."
Anyway, they always sell steamed peanuts and corn at these places; a necessary snack for the rest of the journey. While watching the parking lot crammed with tour buses, I have this vague impression that I'm in a scene, an episode on a television screen filmed in washed-out palettes, perhaps the X-Files, with its familiar, opening onscreen note at the bottom left corner in Courier font text going:
9:37 PM
AYER HITAM, STATE OF JOHOR
94 KM NORTH OF SINGAPORE
Anyway, the rest of the trip was just languish, watch trucks roll by, note disappointingly the absence of any chio hitchhikers on the bus this trip round, and finally arrive at the JB Causeway at approx. midnight (FYI, the buses down from KL almost always go through the first causeway, because about half the passengers on any trip disembark at JB. The few lines that go straight to Singapore via the Senai-Tuas 2nd Link cost far more, and pick up from weirdly located hotels.). As usual, there was a thrill of fear at Singaporean-side customs due to the six or seven pirated CDs stuffed down the side pockets of my cargo pants. And as usual, I was waved past with nary a glance; just another weary traveller; part of the steaming biomass being pumped back and forth to be processed by two different national economies; simultaneously a cog in a machine(as part of the financial economy), a victim to be exploited (as a consumer), and a resource to be squeezed (as a worker enriching an employer).
Snuck off at Woodlands - I wonder just how long the bus (which terminates its route at Golden Mile Complex) waited for me. Some drivers take the precaution of counting first just how many people are getting off at Woodlands and how many at Golden Mile. This bus driver didn't; and given that I invariably shove off at Woodlands itself, I wonder just how far they go when they take a headcount after customs and find a passenger missing... Probably they just shrug their shoulders and drive off.
Took a cab down to my assigned quarters for the night. As some of you may know, my mendicant trips down to Singapore are usually carried out in a nomadic, "so who wants to put me up tonight?" fashion - you poor sods. It was a little tricky finding a place on Thursday night, given that my peer group no longer thinks of November / December as holiday or exam time but, rather, as just another working month. However, one of my kinder associates at Serangoon Gardens took me in at 1:30am in the morning - despite having to go back to Tengah Base at 7:30am.
First time at this guy's house, and it's *old*. The floor tiles were of this style I haven't seen in years - which some of you might be familiar with. It's this smooth, granite composite, usually pale cream in colour, but embedded with conglomerate stones - so the mix looks like a bunch of rocks swimming in a beige pool. No ceramic finishing or glaze; just bare, cold rock beneah your feet. It's the kind you still see in those old apartments around the Joo Chiat Rd / East Coast Rd block. Apparently it's due for renovation soon (more bomb shelter issues), but my friend's the Spartan kind; his room comprises little more than a mattress on the floor, a few bookshelves, a drum set in one corner, and a PC. Walls devoid of decoration. A study desk with nothing but CDs, scattered stationery and stacks of academic notes. Disturbingly, all of his books are old textbooks.
Hadn't caught up with him for a while, but I could see he was in no mood to talk for long. So we just exchanged the usual convival cigarette outside the gates, and headed off to sleep with little further preamble. I pride myself on travelling light, but it's always disorienting to have to set up all manner of paraphernalia upon travel - hunting for a power point to plug in phone charger, arranging toothbrush and razor (the only toiletries I require) in an accessible location, folding up clothes and piling them neatly in unfamiliar cupboards or on unfamiliar surfaces, possibly surfing the net on an unfamiliar PC where even the arrangement of shortcuts unsettles you. It's the little things like finding your way through an unfamiliar bedroom in the dark, or how the contours of the bed (or, in some cases for me, chair, sofa, carpet, gorilla nest, or horizontal surface) one sleeps on isn't quite the same. Clearly I lack adaptability skills.
Okay. Shall continue later. Am busy organizing the few trinkets I have recieved from colleagues who just went travelling; a pair of carved chopsticks in an embroidered holder from Thailand, a pack of mini-sized playing cards from Xi'an (each card decorated with a depiction of a terracotta warrior or sculpture), and an odd little Japanese beanbag ninja, cunningly weighted so that it always lands on its base. Ah, what master engineers the Japanese are.
Currently the chopsticks are positioned on top of my PC monitor, with the rear-ends protruding over the edge like a gangplank, while the ninja stands precariously at the end, performing the crane stance. (Or it would, if it had limbs - it's basically two beanbag-filled spheres on top of one another, swaddled in ninja clothes, with two painted dots as eyes.)
Usual commentary on tracker stats.
The most used keyword by unique visitors descrending on this blog via search engine is, unsurprisingly, "Singapore", occuring in 2.39% of searches. The second most common word is "nude" - 1.88%.
And today's usual weirdness includes "strange plastic drinkware" (A Tupperware fetishist?), "kansas city bbq connectin" (Yup, we're allll good ole farmboys), and "wilting sound wav" (???), amidst the usual assortment of sex and zaogeng.
Comments to the G-Man.
Firstly, the technical distinction between pornography is that it involves flagrant nudity meant to titillate for sexual purposes, whereas tasteful nudity, say, a Botticelli nude, is simply artistic depiction of the nude human form. However, in an era of scrotal infusion and Lego pornography, everything turns *someone* on in some way or another. And of course, the role of sex in what Irvine Welsh calls "the commodification of transgression" Check out that link - very good interview. After all, what is MTV, pro wrestling, and most modern reality TV other than a way of turning the perverse, outre, and bizarrely alternative cultures into simply another cash cow?
Secondly, as I told you, racial harmony only exists as long as one is in camp seeing the same guy day after day. One odd form of (benign?) racism I've noticed is how one can be pretty good friends with individuals "of differing ethnicity", while disliking or holding prejudices towards their race as a whole.
Thirdly, I'm not hated as a person; simply as a provider of irritating opinions and as rants on a screen. Most people operate on assumptions about my personality based on what I write and the manner in which I present my ideas (telling, but not the complete picture, methinks). You're hated as a real, breathing, sack of protoplasm.
Post ID: 84906228
Word of the day is: "quodlibetical"
Am carefully tapping away blog entry. In the meantime...
Actual Analogies and Metaphors Found in College Entrance Essays & Writing Exams
* Her face was a perfect oval, like a circle that had its two other sides gently compressed by a Thigh Master.
* His thoughts tumbled in his head, making and breaking alliances like underpants in a dryer without Cling Free.
* She grew on him like she was a colony of E. coli and he was room-temperature Canadian beef.
* She had a deep, throaty, genuine laugh, like that sound a dog makes just before it throws up.
* Her vocabulary was as bad as, like, whatever.
* He was as tall as a six-foot-three-inch tree.
* The revelation that his marriage of 30 years had disintegrated because of his wife's infidelity came as a rude shock, like a surcharge at a formerly surcharge-free ATM.
* The little boat gently drifted across the pond exactly the way a bowling ball wouldn't.
* McBride fell 12 stories, hitting the pavement like a Hefty bag filled with vegetable soup.
* From the attic came an unearthly howl. The whole scene had an eerie, surreal quality, like when you're on vacation in another city and Jeopardy comes on at 7:00 p. m. instead of 7:30.
* Her hair glistened in the rain like nose hair after a sneeze.
* The hailstones leaped from the pavement, just like maggots when you fry them in hot grease.
* Long separated by cruel fate, the star-crossed lovers raced across the grassy field toward each other like two freight trains, one having left Cleveland at 6:36 p.m. traveling at 55 mph, the other from Topeka at 4:19 p.m. at a speed of 35 mph.
* They lived in a typical suburban neighborhood with picket fences that resembled Nancy Kerrigan's teeth.
* John and Mary had never met. They were like two hummingbirds who had also never met.
* He fell for her like his heart was a mob informant and she was the East River.
* Even in his last years, Grandpappy had a mind like a steel trap, only one that had been left out so long, it had rusted shut.
* Shots rang out, as shots are wont to do.
* The plan was simple, like my brother-in-law Phil. But unlike Phil, this plan just might work.
* The young fighter had a hungry look, the kind you get from not eating for a while.
* "Oh, Jason, take me!"; she panted, her breasts heaving like a college freshman on $1-a-beer night.
* He was as lame as a duck. Not the metaphorical lame duck, either, but a real duck that was actually lame. Maybe from stepping on a land mine or something.
* The ballerina rose gracefully en pointe and extended one slender leg behind her, like a dog at a fire hydrant.
* He was deeply in love. When she spoke, he thought he heard bells, as if she were a garbage truck backing up.
* Her eyes were like limpid pools, only they had forgotten to put in any pH cleanser.
* She walked into my office like a centipede with 98 missing legs.
* It hurt the way your tongue hurts after you accidentally staple it to the wall.
* She was as easy as the TV Guide crossword.
Am carefully tapping away blog entry. In the meantime...
Actual Analogies and Metaphors Found in College Entrance Essays & Writing Exams
* Her face was a perfect oval, like a circle that had its two other sides gently compressed by a Thigh Master.
* His thoughts tumbled in his head, making and breaking alliances like underpants in a dryer without Cling Free.
* She grew on him like she was a colony of E. coli and he was room-temperature Canadian beef.
* She had a deep, throaty, genuine laugh, like that sound a dog makes just before it throws up.
* Her vocabulary was as bad as, like, whatever.
* He was as tall as a six-foot-three-inch tree.
* The revelation that his marriage of 30 years had disintegrated because of his wife's infidelity came as a rude shock, like a surcharge at a formerly surcharge-free ATM.
* The little boat gently drifted across the pond exactly the way a bowling ball wouldn't.
* McBride fell 12 stories, hitting the pavement like a Hefty bag filled with vegetable soup.
* From the attic came an unearthly howl. The whole scene had an eerie, surreal quality, like when you're on vacation in another city and Jeopardy comes on at 7:00 p. m. instead of 7:30.
* Her hair glistened in the rain like nose hair after a sneeze.
* The hailstones leaped from the pavement, just like maggots when you fry them in hot grease.
* Long separated by cruel fate, the star-crossed lovers raced across the grassy field toward each other like two freight trains, one having left Cleveland at 6:36 p.m. traveling at 55 mph, the other from Topeka at 4:19 p.m. at a speed of 35 mph.
* They lived in a typical suburban neighborhood with picket fences that resembled Nancy Kerrigan's teeth.
* John and Mary had never met. They were like two hummingbirds who had also never met.
* He fell for her like his heart was a mob informant and she was the East River.
* Even in his last years, Grandpappy had a mind like a steel trap, only one that had been left out so long, it had rusted shut.
* Shots rang out, as shots are wont to do.
* The plan was simple, like my brother-in-law Phil. But unlike Phil, this plan just might work.
* The young fighter had a hungry look, the kind you get from not eating for a while.
* "Oh, Jason, take me!"; she panted, her breasts heaving like a college freshman on $1-a-beer night.
* He was as lame as a duck. Not the metaphorical lame duck, either, but a real duck that was actually lame. Maybe from stepping on a land mine or something.
* The ballerina rose gracefully en pointe and extended one slender leg behind her, like a dog at a fire hydrant.
* He was deeply in love. When she spoke, he thought he heard bells, as if she were a garbage truck backing up.
* Her eyes were like limpid pools, only they had forgotten to put in any pH cleanser.
* She walked into my office like a centipede with 98 missing legs.
* It hurt the way your tongue hurts after you accidentally staple it to the wall.
* She was as easy as the TV Guide crossword.
Post ID: 84897659
Wednesday, November 20, 2002
*bleep*
I tried F&N 'Freaky' Fruitade one day some weeks ago. The first time I tried it was at Farrer Market back when I was living in Tulip Garden and I thought then that it was the most repellent drink I'd ever tasted. Not so now, because I've drunk shallowly of the swill that is Dr Pepper. Jason, who used to promote the drink, said that it's flavoured with apple and banana, and after a while, I managed to detect the artificial banana flavour. I think he thought it okay, but Shao Chuan didn't, as he spat out the sip he took from my can =)
*bleep*
NS boys like to set pictures of women as their wallpaper. Usually they're scantily clad, so while they excite the hormones, they aren't indecent enough to pass for porn. However, I saw the wallpaper of one computer at the medical centre. It had a Japanese woman who was wearing only a white robe, which wasn't closed in front, but which covered her shoulders and her breasts. Well, much of her breasts - the sides were exposed, and - [mock] horror - part of her nipple could be seen. Time to charge someone :)
Actually the distinction between porn and pictures meant to heaten the blood of men is rather contrived and arbitrary. After all, both have the same intention, so who's to say that a mere peek of a brown protrusion automatically makes something Pornography, while covering it moves it back up into the realm of legality? Ridiculous.
*bleep*
We left camp at about 1+ today to go to... Jurong Library. We've to hand up a book review next week, but it beats being in camp! And we fell out at 4:05pm or so too. My first choice of book was The Satanic Verses, but they didn't have it there, so I'll just have to read one of the two copies I have at home on my own time. War and Peace wasn't available at that branch. After that, I happened across a Romance Novel, the sort my sister reads, about single women in their late twenties to late thirties wanting a man, but I changed my mind later. The last one I thought of was this year's Man Booker prize winner, but all copies were on loan or reserved. Well. So much for my attempt to investigate pretentious/'good'/acclaimed books for a change. The book I finally chose to review is not actually the one I borrowed - Marion Zimmer Bradley's Mists of Avalon, as I don't think I'll be able to finish it in a week, let alone in 3.
My trip to the library must have been really taxing, for I feel very drained now. But then that might have something to do with the lectures we medics got this morning about bucking up and forthcoming punishments if we transgressed regarding minor rules even and my helping out in our rehearsal of setting up of a Bronco BCS for the Chief of Medical Corps' visit tomorrow.
During the aforementioned, I saw Qingru and Melvin. The former had a nametag which said "Qing Ru". Lucky him. We didn't have much time to catch up as they had to run off with a mob of people to the Armour Training Centre, probably for a course, but Qingru said he was a CQ (Company Quartermaster)
Yong Siang thought that the Polar Bear on my shirt was a Koala Bear. Maybe I should bring both to show him ;)
Quotes:
[CO on The Economist] Wah. This is good.
[On the pictures of Kimberly the Pink Ranger on my bunk cupboard] I prefer the one from season one. That one is better.
I tried F&N 'Freaky' Fruitade one day some weeks ago. The first time I tried it was at Farrer Market back when I was living in Tulip Garden and I thought then that it was the most repellent drink I'd ever tasted. Not so now, because I've drunk shallowly of the swill that is Dr Pepper. Jason, who used to promote the drink, said that it's flavoured with apple and banana, and after a while, I managed to detect the artificial banana flavour. I think he thought it okay, but Shao Chuan didn't, as he spat out the sip he took from my can =)
*bleep*
NS boys like to set pictures of women as their wallpaper. Usually they're scantily clad, so while they excite the hormones, they aren't indecent enough to pass for porn. However, I saw the wallpaper of one computer at the medical centre. It had a Japanese woman who was wearing only a white robe, which wasn't closed in front, but which covered her shoulders and her breasts. Well, much of her breasts - the sides were exposed, and - [mock] horror - part of her nipple could be seen. Time to charge someone :)
Actually the distinction between porn and pictures meant to heaten the blood of men is rather contrived and arbitrary. After all, both have the same intention, so who's to say that a mere peek of a brown protrusion automatically makes something Pornography, while covering it moves it back up into the realm of legality? Ridiculous.
*bleep*
We left camp at about 1+ today to go to... Jurong Library. We've to hand up a book review next week, but it beats being in camp! And we fell out at 4:05pm or so too. My first choice of book was The Satanic Verses, but they didn't have it there, so I'll just have to read one of the two copies I have at home on my own time. War and Peace wasn't available at that branch. After that, I happened across a Romance Novel, the sort my sister reads, about single women in their late twenties to late thirties wanting a man, but I changed my mind later. The last one I thought of was this year's Man Booker prize winner, but all copies were on loan or reserved. Well. So much for my attempt to investigate pretentious/'good'/acclaimed books for a change. The book I finally chose to review is not actually the one I borrowed - Marion Zimmer Bradley's Mists of Avalon, as I don't think I'll be able to finish it in a week, let alone in 3.
My trip to the library must have been really taxing, for I feel very drained now. But then that might have something to do with the lectures we medics got this morning about bucking up and forthcoming punishments if we transgressed regarding minor rules even and my helping out in our rehearsal of setting up of a Bronco BCS for the Chief of Medical Corps' visit tomorrow.
During the aforementioned, I saw Qingru and Melvin. The former had a nametag which said "Qing Ru". Lucky him. We didn't have much time to catch up as they had to run off with a mob of people to the Armour Training Centre, probably for a course, but Qingru said he was a CQ (Company Quartermaster)
Yong Siang thought that the Polar Bear on my shirt was a Koala Bear. Maybe I should bring both to show him ;)
Quotes:
[CO on The Economist] Wah. This is good.
[On the pictures of Kimberly the Pink Ranger on my bunk cupboard] I prefer the one from season one. That one is better.
Post ID: 84812705
I really must try Procter & Gamble's Ariel Soap Powder one day, in part to compensate for the brainless Arab boycott. Support Ariel Sharon by buying Ariel Soap Powder! 10% of the proceeds goes to the fund to establish settlements in the West Bank...
The Johor State Government is too free again! This time they're chiding shopping centres which have put up Christmas decorations for being insensitive because Hari Raya is before Christmas. Ma-laysia boleh!
Naomi Klein got savaged in the Economist. Poisoning the well, it was, but funny anyhow. Hehe, I must get around to reading "No Logo" one day.
Yechao didn't know what a smoothie was. Sigh.
M1 is evil. They charge $10 for each session you change one or more of the numbers for the "Family and Friends" service.
As usual, whenever someone suggests that NS be extended to women, some woman, leery of the thought of having to be a slave, will write in to the Forum and protest that women do NS too. Their form of NS apparently includes rearing children, cooking and acting as maids and caring for the family, and since men don't help, women have done their NS. Right. So if medically fit (non-PES E, shall we say) women choose not to bear children, or give them up for adoption, or neglect their 'duties' in some other way, we shall throw them into Detention Barracks for not performing their National Service! Those who hire foreign maids and don't do any housework should likewise be thrown into the slammer. Also, some man also wrote in to say that NS would delay childbearing and make our already precipitous birth rate drop further. Well, if someone wants or doesn't want children, I think NS would hardly be a factor.
[Luckily someone wrote in to dispel her sophistry. His parting shot: "By the way, Ms Wee neglected to mention that it takes a little contribution by the men to the women before conception takes place. So if her argument holds, Singaporean males would have served NS twice." A tad awkward, but effective.]
In the same day's issue, I also saw Mr Fatmonky writing in about lifelong learning and the government's overemphasis on O and A level results. Hehe.
I must get down to slamming the lamentable standard of "Chinese" in Singapore soon. That better not be rejected, as the letter a friend, err, sent in about racial harmony in NS was.
There was this show on "TPI", probably an Indonesian channel, where some Women and Men of Malay stock (90% of the former in tudungs, naturally, and maybe 60% of the latter on songkoks) were singing a cacophonic dirge. The women all looked dead or possessed. Maybe they were dead eyed because they were wearing the symbol of their subjugation and inferiority to men.
Women's Lib in the 60s had bra-burning. Maybe the women's lib of the 00s will have tudung burning!
I was discussing with someone why PJ Girl's friends hate both of us so much.
I think it's because we're both more outspoken, while they like to loiter in the background and keep their views to themselves. Clever lot, but not very vocal.
I'm disliked more, but apparently that's only because they've seen me in "action" ;)
Not going to name (nick)names here, hee hee.
The Johor State Government is too free again! This time they're chiding shopping centres which have put up Christmas decorations for being insensitive because Hari Raya is before Christmas. Ma-laysia boleh!
Naomi Klein got savaged in the Economist. Poisoning the well, it was, but funny anyhow. Hehe, I must get around to reading "No Logo" one day.
Yechao didn't know what a smoothie was. Sigh.
M1 is evil. They charge $10 for each session you change one or more of the numbers for the "Family and Friends" service.
As usual, whenever someone suggests that NS be extended to women, some woman, leery of the thought of having to be a slave, will write in to the Forum and protest that women do NS too. Their form of NS apparently includes rearing children, cooking and acting as maids and caring for the family, and since men don't help, women have done their NS. Right. So if medically fit (non-PES E, shall we say) women choose not to bear children, or give them up for adoption, or neglect their 'duties' in some other way, we shall throw them into Detention Barracks for not performing their National Service! Those who hire foreign maids and don't do any housework should likewise be thrown into the slammer. Also, some man also wrote in to say that NS would delay childbearing and make our already precipitous birth rate drop further. Well, if someone wants or doesn't want children, I think NS would hardly be a factor.
[Luckily someone wrote in to dispel her sophistry. His parting shot: "By the way, Ms Wee neglected to mention that it takes a little contribution by the men to the women before conception takes place. So if her argument holds, Singaporean males would have served NS twice." A tad awkward, but effective.]
In the same day's issue, I also saw Mr Fatmonky writing in about lifelong learning and the government's overemphasis on O and A level results. Hehe.
I must get down to slamming the lamentable standard of "Chinese" in Singapore soon. That better not be rejected, as the letter a friend, err, sent in about racial harmony in NS was.
There was this show on "TPI", probably an Indonesian channel, where some Women and Men of Malay stock (90% of the former in tudungs, naturally, and maybe 60% of the latter on songkoks) were singing a cacophonic dirge. The women all looked dead or possessed. Maybe they were dead eyed because they were wearing the symbol of their subjugation and inferiority to men.
Women's Lib in the 60s had bra-burning. Maybe the women's lib of the 00s will have tudung burning!
I was discussing with someone why PJ Girl's friends hate both of us so much.
I think it's because we're both more outspoken, while they like to loiter in the background and keep their views to themselves. Clever lot, but not very vocal.
I'm disliked more, but apparently that's only because they've seen me in "action" ;)
Not going to name (nick)names here, hee hee.
Post ID: 84812365
Rejected Forum letters:
"Re: NS a social distillery for ethnic cohesion
National Service has always been lauded as a medium for ethnic bonding. Indeed, this is borne out by tales of NSmen acquiring lifelong friends after their 2 or 2 and a 1/2 year stint in the Singapore Armed Forces.
Anecdotal evidence, gathered from some casual observation and interminable NS Stories shared by relations and bosom friends suggests, however, that there are ways to further enhance ethnic bonding during our young men's service to the nation.
One can't help but suspect that race is one criterion in allocating NSmen to their units. I have never seen any Malays or Muslims in the Air Force, Navy, Commandos, Artillery and Armour, and the veracity of this fact is confirmed by some of my brother's friends. A Malay friend of a friend of mine was very keen to enter the Navy, and told the interviewers that he did not mind eating non-Halal food since Halal food was not served in the Navy, but he wasn't accepted in the end. At most, there is a token Malay presence in these wings. In addition, senior Malay Officers are hard to find, though this might be due to the fact that fewer Malays choose to sign on in the Army.
The preponderance of Malays in other areas is also unhealthy. I understand that the Singapore Police Force and Civil Defence Force are overwhelmingly composed of Malays. In fact, a bus I was in once passed the Civil Defence Academy. Of the 20 or so SCDF personnel who got on the bus, all but 2 were Malay. I have great faith in our Malay brothers - in their ability to keep the streets safe and to save our fellow countrymen from burning buildings, but I am equally confident that, if there were a war, they'd leap unhesitatingly to the Defence of Singapore.
Once NSFs ORD and return to the Outside World, they also lose touch with their friends from other racial groups, and fall back into theeir usual racial cliques. Also, racist jokes are commonly exchanged between NSmen when the race in question is not present. They may be meant lightheartedly, but still this is testament to how racial bonding needs to be encouraged further.
Perhaps the supreme irony of the article was that it showed an APC, whose tracks spelled 'Ethnic Cohesion', steaming along. I don't think there were any Malays in that APC. "
Sexism in the Bible:
Ephesians 5:22-33 :: New American Standard Bible (NASB)
"Marriage Like Christ and the Church
Wives, be subject to your own husbands, as to the Lord.
For the husband is the head of the wife, as Christ also is the head of the church, He Himself being the Savior of the body. But as the church is subject to Christ, so also the wives ought to be to their husbands in everything.... Nevertheless, each individual among you also is to love his own wife even as himself, and the wife must see to it that she respects her husband."
Luckily most of us aren't too restricted by the Letter of it. The socio-political-econo-historical context must always be remembered - just like how Islam, in its day, was actually rather tolerant and generous towards women.
[Ed: Dec 1st:
Addendum: "Ephesians is not a letter written to Western marriages! It is a letter written to Christians who were living in a culture where marriage was a type of slavery. Young teens were wedded to middle-aged men in order to bear them a legal heir. It is difficult for us to imagine the level of degradation and hopelessness these young wives must have experienced... perhaps more than the slaves. Paul was not intending to set up gender hierarchy in marriage in these passages any more than he was endorsing slavery by encouraging slaves to submit to their masters. He was simply referring to the slavery and male headship that was already a part of their secular culture."]
"Re: NS a social distillery for ethnic cohesion
National Service has always been lauded as a medium for ethnic bonding. Indeed, this is borne out by tales of NSmen acquiring lifelong friends after their 2 or 2 and a 1/2 year stint in the Singapore Armed Forces.
Anecdotal evidence, gathered from some casual observation and interminable NS Stories shared by relations and bosom friends suggests, however, that there are ways to further enhance ethnic bonding during our young men's service to the nation.
One can't help but suspect that race is one criterion in allocating NSmen to their units. I have never seen any Malays or Muslims in the Air Force, Navy, Commandos, Artillery and Armour, and the veracity of this fact is confirmed by some of my brother's friends. A Malay friend of a friend of mine was very keen to enter the Navy, and told the interviewers that he did not mind eating non-Halal food since Halal food was not served in the Navy, but he wasn't accepted in the end. At most, there is a token Malay presence in these wings. In addition, senior Malay Officers are hard to find, though this might be due to the fact that fewer Malays choose to sign on in the Army.
The preponderance of Malays in other areas is also unhealthy. I understand that the Singapore Police Force and Civil Defence Force are overwhelmingly composed of Malays. In fact, a bus I was in once passed the Civil Defence Academy. Of the 20 or so SCDF personnel who got on the bus, all but 2 were Malay. I have great faith in our Malay brothers - in their ability to keep the streets safe and to save our fellow countrymen from burning buildings, but I am equally confident that, if there were a war, they'd leap unhesitatingly to the Defence of Singapore.
Once NSFs ORD and return to the Outside World, they also lose touch with their friends from other racial groups, and fall back into theeir usual racial cliques. Also, racist jokes are commonly exchanged between NSmen when the race in question is not present. They may be meant lightheartedly, but still this is testament to how racial bonding needs to be encouraged further.
Perhaps the supreme irony of the article was that it showed an APC, whose tracks spelled 'Ethnic Cohesion', steaming along. I don't think there were any Malays in that APC. "
Sexism in the Bible:
Ephesians 5:22-33 :: New American Standard Bible (NASB)
"Marriage Like Christ and the Church
Wives, be subject to your own husbands, as to the Lord.
For the husband is the head of the wife, as Christ also is the head of the church, He Himself being the Savior of the body. But as the church is subject to Christ, so also the wives ought to be to their husbands in everything.... Nevertheless, each individual among you also is to love his own wife even as himself, and the wife must see to it that she respects her husband."
Luckily most of us aren't too restricted by the Letter of it. The socio-political-econo-historical context must always be remembered - just like how Islam, in its day, was actually rather tolerant and generous towards women.
[Ed: Dec 1st:
Addendum: "Ephesians is not a letter written to Western marriages! It is a letter written to Christians who were living in a culture where marriage was a type of slavery. Young teens were wedded to middle-aged men in order to bear them a legal heir. It is difficult for us to imagine the level of degradation and hopelessness these young wives must have experienced... perhaps more than the slaves. Paul was not intending to set up gender hierarchy in marriage in these passages any more than he was endorsing slavery by encouraging slaves to submit to their masters. He was simply referring to the slavery and male headship that was already a part of their secular culture."]
Post ID: 84811574
Oh my goodness. Power Rangers has just topped itself, when I thought it had already reached its nadir in goofiness a long time ago (and had since become better). This is the most improbable Deus Ex Machina I've ever seen.
Excerpt from episode transcript:
"Back at the warehouse, Moleman has the laser moved into firing position... Suddenly, a wall suspiciously covered with a ton of empty cardboard boxes gets blown up from behind!... a forklift was driven into the warehouse. The driver becomes revealed, it's Grandma Winslow, in hockey gear! What's most amusing about this, is Granny gasps upon seeing Kelsey there. Either she accidentally drove the forklift into the wall herself (which makes the most sense), or she discovered the Batlings converging on this location and decided to take matters into her own hands, much like her granddaughter did... Moleman orders the Batlings to destroy the Ranger, Granny yells for them to stay away from her. She whips out her hockey stick and hits the gas, plowing into the warehouse with a mighty "Kiyaa!" Vypra suddenly regains her mental composure and orders, "Attack!" Have I mentioned how useless she is today? It's very sad when the Batlings are doing more useful tasks than your main villainess. Moleman covers his eyes with his paws, whining about how this isn't happening, his work being threatened yet again. Granny Winslow drives the forklift into the Batlings, and swats at a few with her hockey stick. This frees Kelsey, who gets back to the hand to hand combat with them (it appears Kels is as senile as her grandmother when it comes to remember things, like Morphing). More fighting, the Batlings swarm all over Granny, but she bats them off. Finally, Granny heads towards the laser (notice Vypra is standing in the way, and then vanishes, apparently not only do demons fear water, they fear people pulling a Fugitive Alien on them and trying to kill them with a forklift!) and bashes the forklift into the machine. This causes heavy damage, and causes Granny to laugh like a wicked witch. Moleman hops up and down whining about how she's going to pay for that. He hits her, knocking her out of the seat. Or so it appears, as suddenly Granny is about ten feet high, landing on top of a Batling as she falls. She then snatches his sword and begins to stab the crap out of him with it. Kelsey is concerned, but has her hands full with Batling problems as it is."
Someone's comments:
"This was a good episode up until that ridiculous old woman showed up in that silly armor, fighting off Batlings, and pretty much saving the day. What were they thinking? This ranks right down there with Grandma Matchmaker from Power Rangers in Space."
Excerpt from episode transcript:
"Back at the warehouse, Moleman has the laser moved into firing position... Suddenly, a wall suspiciously covered with a ton of empty cardboard boxes gets blown up from behind!... a forklift was driven into the warehouse. The driver becomes revealed, it's Grandma Winslow, in hockey gear! What's most amusing about this, is Granny gasps upon seeing Kelsey there. Either she accidentally drove the forklift into the wall herself (which makes the most sense), or she discovered the Batlings converging on this location and decided to take matters into her own hands, much like her granddaughter did... Moleman orders the Batlings to destroy the Ranger, Granny yells for them to stay away from her. She whips out her hockey stick and hits the gas, plowing into the warehouse with a mighty "Kiyaa!" Vypra suddenly regains her mental composure and orders, "Attack!" Have I mentioned how useless she is today? It's very sad when the Batlings are doing more useful tasks than your main villainess. Moleman covers his eyes with his paws, whining about how this isn't happening, his work being threatened yet again. Granny Winslow drives the forklift into the Batlings, and swats at a few with her hockey stick. This frees Kelsey, who gets back to the hand to hand combat with them (it appears Kels is as senile as her grandmother when it comes to remember things, like Morphing). More fighting, the Batlings swarm all over Granny, but she bats them off. Finally, Granny heads towards the laser (notice Vypra is standing in the way, and then vanishes, apparently not only do demons fear water, they fear people pulling a Fugitive Alien on them and trying to kill them with a forklift!) and bashes the forklift into the machine. This causes heavy damage, and causes Granny to laugh like a wicked witch. Moleman hops up and down whining about how she's going to pay for that. He hits her, knocking her out of the seat. Or so it appears, as suddenly Granny is about ten feet high, landing on top of a Batling as she falls. She then snatches his sword and begins to stab the crap out of him with it. Kelsey is concerned, but has her hands full with Batling problems as it is."
Someone's comments:
"This was a good episode up until that ridiculous old woman showed up in that silly armor, fighting off Batlings, and pretty much saving the day. What were they thinking? This ranks right down there with Grandma Matchmaker from Power Rangers in Space."
Post ID: 84811436
Friday, November 15, 2002
Mary had a little lamb
Her father shot it dead.
Now it goes to school with her,
Between two chunks of bread.
Little Miss Muffet sat on a tuffet,
Her clothes all tattered and torn.
It wasn't the spider that crept beside her,
But Little Boy Blue and his horn.
Simple Simon met a Pieman, going to the fair.
Said Simple Simon to the Pieman,
What have you got there?
Said the Pieman unto Simon,
Pies, you idiot.
Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall
Humpty Dumpty had a great fall.
All the kings horses and all the kings men,
Said "Forget him, He's only an egg."
Her father shot it dead.
Now it goes to school with her,
Between two chunks of bread.
Little Miss Muffet sat on a tuffet,
Her clothes all tattered and torn.
It wasn't the spider that crept beside her,
But Little Boy Blue and his horn.
Simple Simon met a Pieman, going to the fair.
Said Simple Simon to the Pieman,
What have you got there?
Said the Pieman unto Simon,
Pies, you idiot.
Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall
Humpty Dumpty had a great fall.
All the kings horses and all the kings men,
Said "Forget him, He's only an egg."
Post ID: 84572708
Bah I can't go for my MO's housewarming tomorrow because I'll be on Ops.
And there's something else I forgot. No matter.
*Pork chops pay for university *
Haram education!
Rules for Writing
And there's something else I forgot. No matter.
*Pork chops pay for university *
Haram education!
Rules for Writing
Post ID: 84571383
Thursday, November 14, 2002
Star Control 2 tracks I particularly like, in no particular order:
Supermelee music
Hyperspace
Quasispace (PC version)
Melnorme
Orbit
Orz
Pkunk
Sylandro
Thraddash
Ur-Quan Kzer-Za
Yehat
But the rest are almost all nice too :)
Weekly Aborted Site: Akadama-Ya
"When you first arrive at the site, you will probably be saddened by the fact that the entire site is written in Japanese. I have no fucking clue what any of it says either, so don't ask me. However, I'm pretty sure that it would read something like this:
"Hi! I am a big pedophile from Japan, and enjoy drawing pre-pubescent anime girls being raped and molested by Digimon, and other strange creatures. I have no life whatsoever. Please donate $5 to my Paypal account so I can continue to indulge your sick fantasies."
ROFL
Travel Guide
FIFTH STOP: LONDON
Home of Mr. Bean.
The People: What�s a British person, you ask? Take an American. Then take an electrified cable and ram it deep into their ear canal to give them a �peculiar� and �charming� personality.
Sites to See:
1) The Queen: You�ll have a hard time seeing her. She�s surrounded by ninja guards.
Supermelee music
Hyperspace
Quasispace (PC version)
Melnorme
Orbit
Orz
Pkunk
Sylandro
Thraddash
Ur-Quan Kzer-Za
Yehat
But the rest are almost all nice too :)
Weekly Aborted Site: Akadama-Ya
"When you first arrive at the site, you will probably be saddened by the fact that the entire site is written in Japanese. I have no fucking clue what any of it says either, so don't ask me. However, I'm pretty sure that it would read something like this:
"Hi! I am a big pedophile from Japan, and enjoy drawing pre-pubescent anime girls being raped and molested by Digimon, and other strange creatures. I have no life whatsoever. Please donate $5 to my Paypal account so I can continue to indulge your sick fantasies."
ROFL
Travel Guide
FIFTH STOP: LONDON
Home of Mr. Bean.
The People: What�s a British person, you ask? Take an American. Then take an electrified cable and ram it deep into their ear canal to give them a �peculiar� and �charming� personality.
Sites to See:
1) The Queen: You�ll have a hard time seeing her. She�s surrounded by ninja guards.
Post ID: 84523919
Visited Downhere's house with Ger. Visit was spent looking at screens.
First was Wuthering Heights. A French adaptation, rather. Very ZZZ-ish. I felt like bludgeoning myself with Kenneth's bolster. I think Battle Royale would have been much livelier.
After that was Anime watching. I wasn't really keen on that, but it was somewhat of an eye opener. Both shows - Cowboy Bebop and Kodomo no Omocha, were eminently more understandable than the crap that was "Shoujo Kakumei Utena", though the Japanese are really disturbing - For Kodomo, what's an 11 year old girl doing with a 25 year old boyfriend? Kenneth also played a bit of Chobits, but both of us were barely tolerating it, so we shut the window after a while.
Japanese Anime does have its merits, but I still say it's overblown and overrated. People talk in such fake voices, timbres and tones, act really over the top, make lame jokes and do improbable things. And all the characters have hellishly large eyes - probably the Japanese artists subconsciously compensating for their inadequacies (small eyes).
I also saw a copy of RJ Outlook. It looks much better now. The RJ Chamber Alumni had a concert - 'Noteworthy' - in July and Ee Kia and some other person with a male-sounding name ('Yap Shing Nan') sang soprano for Pergolesi's Stabat Mater. Yeh!
Later, Geraldine was supposed to watch Harry Potter with her friend formerly from The School With The Most Indecent Uniform In Singapore Bar None (SCGS). However, the latter was asked out by a hot guy, so I ended up accompanying Screwed Up Girl. Wonderful it is attending movies on the first few days, with considerate audiences, most of whom are probably ardent fans. There were no irritating noises from the audience, and only one handphone rang (and it only rang too, and the guy was hushed by everyone). Though I didn't see anyone dressed as Dumbledore.
Jiamin apparently has been formulating lots of slash (why's it called slash when it doesn't involve slashing or violence?) theories about Harry Potter. Gah, corrupting the young boys. Anyhow I know why Yaoi Girl likes Harry Potter. Tons of pre-pubescent boys. Magic. Benevolent and avuncular superior figures. Perfect. Of course she denies it, but we all know the truth :)
Yechao doesn't, or didn't rather, know what Carrefour was. *Slaps forehead* And I thought "Maki" was the worst he could go.
And Yaoi Girl refused to let me know where she was having her haircut, so I couldn't go annoy her :(
Everyone loves Wo-Hen Nankan!
"-PUKE-
he's like, super gross and U-G-L-Y and has that long hair that probably has kutus and dandruffs (whatever spelling) and is dirty and.. yucks!! i mean JUST LOOK AT IT!!!
GROSS!! looks like a pile of dried algae -eewww-
he's a HAiRY man -nods self-
gwad disgusting!!
and those "princesses" probably dump him after getting half of his millions and billions"
"He'll go to heaven. the legions of Hell don't want him."
"eh...the person looks really gross,cant believe girls will like him and even wanna be on the bed with him... :X"
"ROFL
its money they're after.."
"Y
U
C
K
S
!"
"maybe one day i'll go to a lan shop and sign the guess book:
Name: none of your business
Homepage:
E-Mail:
Referred By:
City/Country:
Comments: hey Asian Prince, you suck. yep, S U C K. LOSER!!
Am I Not Hot?: didn't i just say you suck?"
"haha is this for real...what a thing....is it a male or female?"
"I shall print his picture out and distribute it to my ex classmates... (meeting some of em tomorrow)"
"print his face out and wear it to a fancy dress party"
First was Wuthering Heights. A French adaptation, rather. Very ZZZ-ish. I felt like bludgeoning myself with Kenneth's bolster. I think Battle Royale would have been much livelier.
After that was Anime watching. I wasn't really keen on that, but it was somewhat of an eye opener. Both shows - Cowboy Bebop and Kodomo no Omocha, were eminently more understandable than the crap that was "Shoujo Kakumei Utena", though the Japanese are really disturbing - For Kodomo, what's an 11 year old girl doing with a 25 year old boyfriend? Kenneth also played a bit of Chobits, but both of us were barely tolerating it, so we shut the window after a while.
Japanese Anime does have its merits, but I still say it's overblown and overrated. People talk in such fake voices, timbres and tones, act really over the top, make lame jokes and do improbable things. And all the characters have hellishly large eyes - probably the Japanese artists subconsciously compensating for their inadequacies (small eyes).
I also saw a copy of RJ Outlook. It looks much better now. The RJ Chamber Alumni had a concert - 'Noteworthy' - in July and Ee Kia and some other person with a male-sounding name ('Yap Shing Nan') sang soprano for Pergolesi's Stabat Mater. Yeh!
Later, Geraldine was supposed to watch Harry Potter with her friend formerly from The School With The Most Indecent Uniform In Singapore Bar None (SCGS). However, the latter was asked out by a hot guy, so I ended up accompanying Screwed Up Girl. Wonderful it is attending movies on the first few days, with considerate audiences, most of whom are probably ardent fans. There were no irritating noises from the audience, and only one handphone rang (and it only rang too, and the guy was hushed by everyone). Though I didn't see anyone dressed as Dumbledore.
Jiamin apparently has been formulating lots of slash (why's it called slash when it doesn't involve slashing or violence?) theories about Harry Potter. Gah, corrupting the young boys. Anyhow I know why Yaoi Girl likes Harry Potter. Tons of pre-pubescent boys. Magic. Benevolent and avuncular superior figures. Perfect. Of course she denies it, but we all know the truth :)
Yechao doesn't, or didn't rather, know what Carrefour was. *Slaps forehead* And I thought "Maki" was the worst he could go.
And Yaoi Girl refused to let me know where she was having her haircut, so I couldn't go annoy her :(
Everyone loves Wo-Hen Nankan!
"-PUKE-
he's like, super gross and U-G-L-Y and has that long hair that probably has kutus and dandruffs (whatever spelling) and is dirty and.. yucks!! i mean JUST LOOK AT IT!!!
GROSS!! looks like a pile of dried algae -eewww-
he's a HAiRY man -nods self-
gwad disgusting!!
and those "princesses" probably dump him after getting half of his millions and billions"
"He'll go to heaven. the legions of Hell don't want him."
"eh...the person looks really gross,cant believe girls will like him and even wanna be on the bed with him... :X"
"ROFL
its money they're after.."
"Y
U
C
K
S
!"
"maybe one day i'll go to a lan shop and sign the guess book:
Name: none of your business
Homepage:
E-Mail:
Referred By:
City/Country:
Comments: hey Asian Prince, you suck. yep, S U C K. LOSER!!
Am I Not Hot?: didn't i just say you suck?"
"haha is this for real...what a thing....is it a male or female?"
"I shall print his picture out and distribute it to my ex classmates... (meeting some of em tomorrow)"
"print his face out and wear it to a fancy dress party"
Post ID: 84522857
Interesting observation on today's referrals: one from another person's referral stats page on extremetracking.
Which means that when someone was checking his or her extremetracking to see the referrals to his or her blog, he/she saw someone who had clicked there from a link on Balderdash, and subsquently that person checked us back out by clicking on the Balderdash link in his/her extremetracking stats.. and now that click-through from extremetracking has shown up on Balderdash's referral stats..... But it doesn't really lead to an infinite series of click-throughs; unless even the *referral stats* page has a meta-referral stats function to track who's been checking out stats..... Whoa. Deep.
*takes in a deep, throaty gulp of hashish smoke - or at least feels like doing it*
Argh. Head hurts.
Which means that when someone was checking his or her extremetracking to see the referrals to his or her blog, he/she saw someone who had clicked there from a link on Balderdash, and subsquently that person checked us back out by clicking on the Balderdash link in his/her extremetracking stats.. and now that click-through from extremetracking has shown up on Balderdash's referral stats..... But it doesn't really lead to an infinite series of click-throughs; unless even the *referral stats* page has a meta-referral stats function to track who's been checking out stats..... Whoa. Deep.
*takes in a deep, throaty gulp of hashish smoke - or at least feels like doing it*
Argh. Head hurts.
Post ID: 84517433
I meant that. I am still in shock after typing in a few innocent names at random.
At least now I know what to say to a friend who asked me of Geraldine's essay: "Who is Gabriel? Shouldn't it be Gabrielle?"
I realise a lot of anime fans are into Neil Gaiman as well. What a travesty, at times, but the kind of people who would be intrigued by some of the more outre storylines of anime are the kind who would enjoy Neil Gaiman's dark, yet quirky writing.
Gabriel's obsession with the AsianPrince has dragged him to new depths of perversion
Extract from old meatspace diary:
"They say death teaches us about the value of life. And I suppose it does - as long as it happens to someone else."
At least now I know what to say to a friend who asked me of Geraldine's essay: "Who is Gabriel? Shouldn't it be Gabrielle?"
I realise a lot of anime fans are into Neil Gaiman as well. What a travesty, at times, but the kind of people who would be intrigued by some of the more outre storylines of anime are the kind who would enjoy Neil Gaiman's dark, yet quirky writing.
Gabriel's obsession with the AsianPrince has dragged him to new depths of perversion
Extract from old meatspace diary:
"They say death teaches us about the value of life. And I suppose it does - as long as it happens to someone else."
Post ID: 84479616
Accolades for an anime mush generator Jiamin linked to:
"at the generator
aaaaaaaaaaaaaggggggggggghhhhhhhh
still screaming in agony
KILL ME! KILL ME NOW!
i am forever tainted
i have been to S&M parties, satanic rites, and hello kitty conventions
but i have seen no degeneracy on earth, no vileness that even matches the horror i have witnessed on this page.
i beg of you.. slay me now!"
"at the generator
aaaaaaaaaaaaaggggggggggghhhhhhhh
still screaming in agony
KILL ME! KILL ME NOW!
i am forever tainted
i have been to S&M parties, satanic rites, and hello kitty conventions
but i have seen no degeneracy on earth, no vileness that even matches the horror i have witnessed on this page.
i beg of you.. slay me now!"
Post ID: 84476622
*bleep*
I realise Yaoi Girl too has an Oh-So-Slight Accent. She can form a club with the other one :) And to her rebuttal of my objection to her thinking dirty thoughts about LOTR, I reply: You don't understand manly/kingly Death Rituals ;)
There was an article in the "Commentary" section of Monday's papers - "NS a social distillery for ethnic cohesion". Very ironic, as the cartoon showed an APC rolling back and its tracks spelling 'Ethnic Cohesion'. I doubt there were any Malays in that APC. I should write a letter to the forum in protest, but I'll be charged under the Official Secrets Act. They allow names to be changed if there is a "very real threat to life and limb". I guess DB does not threaten my limb or my limb, so it's okay.
Quotes:
[On someone named 'Nah'] The 'Nah' is really nah bey. Fucked up.
[On not being allowed to leave camp on the night of the ORD function] Married personnel, don't take it personally. [Points to someone] Don't ask your wife to call me again ah
[A Lance Corporal] I'm downgrade ah [Spec: I think you should be upgraded and promoted] Fuck you. (downgraded)
[On retaking GP] Then you go Hua Cu to take. Then you will feel that your English is very good. Serious. (should go to)
I realise Yaoi Girl too has an Oh-So-Slight Accent. She can form a club with the other one :) And to her rebuttal of my objection to her thinking dirty thoughts about LOTR, I reply: You don't understand manly/kingly Death Rituals ;)
There was an article in the "Commentary" section of Monday's papers - "NS a social distillery for ethnic cohesion". Very ironic, as the cartoon showed an APC rolling back and its tracks spelling 'Ethnic Cohesion'. I doubt there were any Malays in that APC. I should write a letter to the forum in protest, but I'll be charged under the Official Secrets Act. They allow names to be changed if there is a "very real threat to life and limb". I guess DB does not threaten my limb or my limb, so it's okay.
Quotes:
[On someone named 'Nah'] The 'Nah' is really nah bey. Fucked up.
[On not being allowed to leave camp on the night of the ORD function] Married personnel, don't take it personally. [Points to someone] Don't ask your wife to call me again ah
[A Lance Corporal] I'm downgrade ah [Spec: I think you should be upgraded and promoted] Fuck you. (downgraded)
[On retaking GP] Then you go Hua Cu to take. Then you will feel that your English is very good. Serious. (should go to)
Post ID: 84476364
Wednesday, November 13, 2002
Try this.
Not exactly a hate IM site, but it puts the salient points across quite nicely.
It was out of context in the sense that those phrases were sputters of incoherent rage. Yet, behind the bitching, there is madness to my method. Which requires elucidation and further ranting, which I might do at a later date. Nonetheless, I've said all I have to say on the topic.
It could be a hydra on the mend. Either that, or it's downsizing. Haven't you heard? Times are bad. Too many mouths to feed.
Aarrgh! MMPR! Begone, foul beast! Voltron, save me!
I don't really know what they do inside the toilets either, but from the few brief tantalizing glimpses I've had, it involves crowding in front of the sinks (usually three to a mirror), using their compact, adjusting their straps, some arcane ritual called "powdering their nose", and usually the females there are divided into groups that went together to the washroom en masse, leaving the guys they went with back at the bar or dance floor, staring bewilderedly at each other.
Not exactly a hate IM site, but it puts the salient points across quite nicely.
It was out of context in the sense that those phrases were sputters of incoherent rage. Yet, behind the bitching, there is madness to my method. Which requires elucidation and further ranting, which I might do at a later date. Nonetheless, I've said all I have to say on the topic.
It could be a hydra on the mend. Either that, or it's downsizing. Haven't you heard? Times are bad. Too many mouths to feed.
Aarrgh! MMPR! Begone, foul beast! Voltron, save me!
I don't really know what they do inside the toilets either, but from the few brief tantalizing glimpses I've had, it involves crowding in front of the sinks (usually three to a mirror), using their compact, adjusting their straps, some arcane ritual called "powdering their nose", and usually the females there are divided into groups that went together to the washroom en masse, leaving the guys they went with back at the bar or dance floor, staring bewilderedly at each other.
Post ID: 84474976
Stumbled across the webpage of a "Rachel Wu Sikorski". It hasn't been updated since 1996, but Geocities hasn't deleted it.
Apparently this is one of the 2 RJ girls who died in the ODAC rafting accident at Pulau Ubin in 1999.
Her boyfriend still signs the guestbook from time to time.
Touching. Coming from me, that's something.
Apparently this is one of the 2 RJ girls who died in the ODAC rafting accident at Pulau Ubin in 1999.
Her boyfriend still signs the guestbook from time to time.
Touching. Coming from me, that's something.
Post ID: 84472817
Has anyone ever noticed just how much this guy:
Looks like what this kid will in 20 years time?
Pay close attention the physiognomy of the nose and browline, in particular. And ignore the hair.
Putin .. Potter.. am I the only one who fails to see the connection???? The increasingly darker storylines in the series.. the corruption of Harry Potter as he becomes the new Dark Lord... his ascension to power on a wave of sorcery and intrigue (think about it - Putin was a total rank outsider who emerged out of nowhere as the annointed heir when Yeltin's vodka-saturated bulk was hauled out of office. Don't tell me that some sorcerous glamour was not involved - hell, forget magick, all Putin needed to do was to put a few bottles of Stolichnaya in front of Boris and he'd have signed anything). Evil wizardry and access to thermonuclear weapons - a most puissant combination.
This is more metaphysical proof of the inevitable triumph of darkness over light.
Looks like what this kid will in 20 years time?
Pay close attention the physiognomy of the nose and browline, in particular. And ignore the hair.
Putin .. Potter.. am I the only one who fails to see the connection???? The increasingly darker storylines in the series.. the corruption of Harry Potter as he becomes the new Dark Lord... his ascension to power on a wave of sorcery and intrigue (think about it - Putin was a total rank outsider who emerged out of nowhere as the annointed heir when Yeltin's vodka-saturated bulk was hauled out of office. Don't tell me that some sorcerous glamour was not involved - hell, forget magick, all Putin needed to do was to put a few bottles of Stolichnaya in front of Boris and he'd have signed anything). Evil wizardry and access to thermonuclear weapons - a most puissant combination.
This is more metaphysical proof of the inevitable triumph of darkness over light.
Post ID: 84466537
Word of the day: "novation"
Your appended comments are more like dead ugly conjoined twins.. like that South Park character with a fetus on her forehead. The comments are probably the tumours, since they're the ones that grow. Although how come no one comments that much on our garbage? Probably due to the fact that the comprehensive ranting of our entries leaves little space for marginalia.
As I said to you, I assisted in the redesign of your blog commentary template in the interests of ensuring that our enduring commitment to the complete and utter absence of any aesthetic artistry on this blog is adhered to. Already there is one little irritating sidebar, but since the links there help to faciliate archive retrieval, I tolerate its presence. Don't push it.
A two-headed snake might survive if it was a hydra.
Why do you want credit cards? They are EVIL objects meant to trap you within the samsara of consumerism forever. Erm. But they make paying for petrol really easy. As well as ordering shit off the Internet. ARGH. (*muttermutter* stupid crappy rate of exchange and absence of purchasing power parity)
My set is more precious, simply because it's mine, and as for shipping it overseas - obviously the worry it would cause me as a more emotionally sensitive bipolar depressive merchant banker is less than the worry it causes you as an apathetic, yet oddly Zen-like NS-man. It's a matter of applying some of the Benthamite "felicific calculus" - ie. my happiness is more important than your lack of it. His protege J.S Mill has good words on the distinction between higher and lower classes of pleasures too. In any case, promoting Blood Sword to the masses is a noble cause; and like all noble causes, it's always about the older person telling the younger person to go sacrifice himself for the greater good. Karmic accrual.
M$N is evil indeed, but an anti-M$N page is going to be pretty cliched, methinks. And yes, your cause is lost. The distinctiveness of your PC will be assimilated into the Gatesian conglomerate.
"The worst thing about being Bill Gates is that you can never be sure if your hand isn't having sex with you just for the money."
I can see why you shouldn't plan for a wedding dinner. *sincerely*
Ask me to explain my chick-rating system one day. If anyone knows anything about credit ratings (Standard & Poor, Moody's, Fitch), and is interested to know how equity = marriage while bonds = relationships, just drop a line.
Because in clubs, female toilets inevitably have a queue snaking out the door, and wending serpentinely for miles outside. Blame it on women and the inefficient anatomy of their biological waste disposal mechanisms. That, and the way they all crowd in front of bathroom mirrors with eyeliners, tweezers, lipstick, and other hideous cosmetic paraphernalia. It's quite possible to see more than you want to when walking past an opened female toilet door.
I still think you're awfully stubborn over the submit button thing. But I put up with your little eccentricities.
Why should Microsoft release the Mech Paks as a patch when they can squeeze a few extra dollars out of the consumer? I mean, there are people who *really* want a Cauldron-Born or a Highlander in their game. Fortuitously, the only economic contribution I shall be making will be to the happy pirates, who deserve my money far more for providing me a necessary psychological prophylactic at affordable prices.
"No lives" isn't such a bad thing. I haven't got one too. *shrugs* But I like to think I spend it constructively furnishing my own internal mental dioramas, scratching my navel, reading philosophy and watching pornography, compared to inflicting execrable graphic pretensions on the world. *primly* I'll stick to verbal pretensions, thank you very much.
*peers* You really do enjoy quoting me out of context, don't you? Should I qualify my statements in greater detail? *rhetorically* But it's more masturbatory than usual to annotate one's own quotes as paraphrased by someone else. Oh well.
I've refused to do a webpage of my own all these years mainly because I'm as lazy as a sloth on pot. That, and the fact that I haven't got a message to say to the world at large that demands my own personal presence on the net. On the other hand, renting space on a blog allows me to organise my thoughts a little, kill time at work, and occasionally archive down some of the more interesting events in my life, without the responsibility of owning my own *territory* that demands a personal imprint, personal pretension, and an expression of my retarded aesthetic sense. And of course, the hassles of maintaining a rented blog are borne by the landlord.
Why do you think I blog here? Because of the brutally utilitarian format, devoid of any artistic trapping or fancy colour scheme (cranberry is not a colour scheme). It's only the words that matter. Not the fancy backgrounds or the 3l33t chatboxes or the brooding fonts. Simple Verdana text on a white background.
And as for that essay, I believe these words sum up my feelings best. "I could gouge out my eyes, smash the tainted orbs on the floor, sprinkle salt over my bloody sockets, and whip myself repeatedly with a broken-glass-laced cat 'o nine-tails, but I could never gouge out my memory."
Still, it's nice to be loved, isn't it?:)
Your appended comments are more like dead ugly conjoined twins.. like that South Park character with a fetus on her forehead. The comments are probably the tumours, since they're the ones that grow. Although how come no one comments that much on our garbage? Probably due to the fact that the comprehensive ranting of our entries leaves little space for marginalia.
As I said to you, I assisted in the redesign of your blog commentary template in the interests of ensuring that our enduring commitment to the complete and utter absence of any aesthetic artistry on this blog is adhered to. Already there is one little irritating sidebar, but since the links there help to faciliate archive retrieval, I tolerate its presence. Don't push it.
A two-headed snake might survive if it was a hydra.
Why do you want credit cards? They are EVIL objects meant to trap you within the samsara of consumerism forever. Erm. But they make paying for petrol really easy. As well as ordering shit off the Internet. ARGH. (*muttermutter* stupid crappy rate of exchange and absence of purchasing power parity)
My set is more precious, simply because it's mine, and as for shipping it overseas - obviously the worry it would cause me as a more emotionally sensitive bipolar depressive merchant banker is less than the worry it causes you as an apathetic, yet oddly Zen-like NS-man. It's a matter of applying some of the Benthamite "felicific calculus" - ie. my happiness is more important than your lack of it. His protege J.S Mill has good words on the distinction between higher and lower classes of pleasures too. In any case, promoting Blood Sword to the masses is a noble cause; and like all noble causes, it's always about the older person telling the younger person to go sacrifice himself for the greater good. Karmic accrual.
M$N is evil indeed, but an anti-M$N page is going to be pretty cliched, methinks. And yes, your cause is lost. The distinctiveness of your PC will be assimilated into the Gatesian conglomerate.
"The worst thing about being Bill Gates is that you can never be sure if your hand isn't having sex with you just for the money."
I can see why you shouldn't plan for a wedding dinner. *sincerely*
Ask me to explain my chick-rating system one day. If anyone knows anything about credit ratings (Standard & Poor, Moody's, Fitch), and is interested to know how equity = marriage while bonds = relationships, just drop a line.
Because in clubs, female toilets inevitably have a queue snaking out the door, and wending serpentinely for miles outside. Blame it on women and the inefficient anatomy of their biological waste disposal mechanisms. That, and the way they all crowd in front of bathroom mirrors with eyeliners, tweezers, lipstick, and other hideous cosmetic paraphernalia. It's quite possible to see more than you want to when walking past an opened female toilet door.
I still think you're awfully stubborn over the submit button thing. But I put up with your little eccentricities.
Why should Microsoft release the Mech Paks as a patch when they can squeeze a few extra dollars out of the consumer? I mean, there are people who *really* want a Cauldron-Born or a Highlander in their game. Fortuitously, the only economic contribution I shall be making will be to the happy pirates, who deserve my money far more for providing me a necessary psychological prophylactic at affordable prices.
"No lives" isn't such a bad thing. I haven't got one too. *shrugs* But I like to think I spend it constructively furnishing my own internal mental dioramas, scratching my navel, reading philosophy and watching pornography, compared to inflicting execrable graphic pretensions on the world. *primly* I'll stick to verbal pretensions, thank you very much.
*peers* You really do enjoy quoting me out of context, don't you? Should I qualify my statements in greater detail? *rhetorically* But it's more masturbatory than usual to annotate one's own quotes as paraphrased by someone else. Oh well.
I've refused to do a webpage of my own all these years mainly because I'm as lazy as a sloth on pot. That, and the fact that I haven't got a message to say to the world at large that demands my own personal presence on the net. On the other hand, renting space on a blog allows me to organise my thoughts a little, kill time at work, and occasionally archive down some of the more interesting events in my life, without the responsibility of owning my own *territory* that demands a personal imprint, personal pretension, and an expression of my retarded aesthetic sense. And of course, the hassles of maintaining a rented blog are borne by the landlord.
Why do you think I blog here? Because of the brutally utilitarian format, devoid of any artistic trapping or fancy colour scheme (cranberry is not a colour scheme). It's only the words that matter. Not the fancy backgrounds or the 3l33t chatboxes or the brooding fonts. Simple Verdana text on a white background.
And as for that essay, I believe these words sum up my feelings best. "I could gouge out my eyes, smash the tainted orbs on the floor, sprinkle salt over my bloody sockets, and whip myself repeatedly with a broken-glass-laced cat 'o nine-tails, but I could never gouge out my memory."
Still, it's nice to be loved, isn't it?:)
Post ID: 84465500
Delta Secondary School has lots of chickens. And even there, I wasn't safe from "Army News", one copy of which was tacked on the notice board.
I didn't write a very good essay. "Does a study of history make you optimistic or pessimistic about the future of mankind?". Bleah. Forgot the stuff I read in Primary and Secondary School.
At least I remembered how to spell Hatshepsut ;)
Was very un-indulgent and un-cynical today. Wow.
There were quite a lot of ex-JC students taking the exam. Well, they looked like they used to be from a JC. Some foreigners too - I saw some passports. And there was a middle aged Indian couple - the guy was balding. Lifelong education indeed :) The invigilator caught one girl writing after time was up. Uh oh.
I was quite pissed to see that I had the only Green IC in the room :(
3 times the number of people taking the revised paper took the old paper. Not many were as foolhardy as I and my intrepid lot! But they cheated - at least 4, and probably all of the essay questions were shared between the two papers! And apparently, somewhere not too far away (well, this is Singapore), Aravind was retaking his too.
Comprehension was interesting. There was only one passage, which means that the teachers have been getting the format wrong all this while :) And, trite though it might be, was on Singlish. Hah! Some of the questions were quite odd. "[If they cannot switch between Singlish and English, they will be left behind] economically and socially" - "What is Mr Lee saying?". And it wasn't a "in your own words" question too. Erm.
I miss sentence making though. Making subversive sentences was most fun :)
GP was weird. David agrees. Cambridge is trying to be farnie this year.
"every time I talk to you
I must drop by dictionary.com...
there are some people who are older than you, and have trouble keeping up with your language"
Haha :)
I didn't write a very good essay. "Does a study of history make you optimistic or pessimistic about the future of mankind?". Bleah. Forgot the stuff I read in Primary and Secondary School.
At least I remembered how to spell Hatshepsut ;)
Was very un-indulgent and un-cynical today. Wow.
There were quite a lot of ex-JC students taking the exam. Well, they looked like they used to be from a JC. Some foreigners too - I saw some passports. And there was a middle aged Indian couple - the guy was balding. Lifelong education indeed :) The invigilator caught one girl writing after time was up. Uh oh.
I was quite pissed to see that I had the only Green IC in the room :(
3 times the number of people taking the revised paper took the old paper. Not many were as foolhardy as I and my intrepid lot! But they cheated - at least 4, and probably all of the essay questions were shared between the two papers! And apparently, somewhere not too far away (well, this is Singapore), Aravind was retaking his too.
Comprehension was interesting. There was only one passage, which means that the teachers have been getting the format wrong all this while :) And, trite though it might be, was on Singlish. Hah! Some of the questions were quite odd. "[If they cannot switch between Singlish and English, they will be left behind] economically and socially" - "What is Mr Lee saying?". And it wasn't a "in your own words" question too. Erm.
I miss sentence making though. Making subversive sentences was most fun :)
GP was weird. David agrees. Cambridge is trying to be farnie this year.
"every time I talk to you
I must drop by dictionary.com...
there are some people who are older than you, and have trouble keeping up with your language"
Haha :)
Post ID: 84464810
Gak. My name has been used in vain!
Screwed Up Girl has just topped herself.
"A Night To Remember
Amidst a bed of flowers, Yechao drew Geraldine into his arms and declared, "Geraldine, you look exquisite."
She blushed at the intense gaze that swept over her. "Oh, Yechao."
He drew her nearer, his eyes closing slowly. "Geraldine, how many times do I have to repeat myself?"
She was jerked back to reality at the last remark, the traces of her daydream disappearing as she looked up to see Helen Tan glaring at her, a vein threatening to pop out of her forehead. Geraldine could almost see the lightning
bolts flashsing behind her teacher's back as her voice thundered over the room. "Your mind is obviously somewhere else, Geraldine, and I will not tolerate such behavior in my class!"
But before she could open her mouth to apologize, the bell rang. Helen Tan shook a finger in the air. "We're not done yet, young lady." But the warning was drowned by the rush of students that filed out of the classroom. Geraldine heaved a sigh of relief. From the corner of her eye, she noticed the object of her affection walking away.
Her best friend Gabriel joined her. "Don't tell me you were daydreaming about your Prince Charming again," her friend teased.
Geraldine flashed a guilty smile. Ever since she met Yechao at the start of the year, he was all she could think about. At first, she was drawn by his attractive features -- his sparkling black eyes, his striking black hair. She felt so warm inside when he first smiled at her, and she could swear that the world was brightened by the twinkle in his eyes. But when they were recently paired as Chemistry lab partners, she fell even more in love with his gentle, thoughtful side. Once when she was sick, Yechao visited her house and brought her their homework. Another time when she accidentally broke her beaker, he slid it over
to his side, just in time to catch the ire of their lab teacher about damaging school property. When Geraldine tried to speak up, he discreetly placed a hand on her arm and stopped her. His mere touch was enough to silence her.
But even though Gabriel knew that she was in love, Geraldine didn't dare tell her friend with whom. She was a bit reluctant that her friend would tease her to death, or worse, do something like deliver him to her bound and gagged.
"So, has this mystery guy asked you to the prom yet?" Gabriel asked.
Geraldine shook her head. "No, and I don't think that he's taking anyone else."
Gabriel scowled. "What is he, gay?" At the murderous look that Geraldine gave her, she backed off. "Okay, okay. But what are you going to do? The prom's tomorrow night! You can't wait for him to take action, you have to invite him yourself!"
Geraldine paled at the thought. "I couldn't do that! He might think I was too forward. Besides, you're one to talk. I don't hear you telling me that you have a date for tomorrow."
Her friend placed a hand over her mouth and laughed. Gabriel had a very disturbing laugh, the sound echoing through the halls. "Ohohohohoho!" Then she winked. "You've been so secretive lately that I decided to teach you a lesson. So my date is for me to know and for you to find out."
By this time, they had reached the cafeteria. Gabriel, who always brought lunch from home, went to look for a table while Geraldine got in line to buy her food. As she
debated on getting what appeared to be baked macaroni, she felt someone standing close to her. Too close. Geraldine turned to discover Yechao there, holding a lunch tray in his hands.
"Hi," he greeted her with a smile. Geraldine could feel the blush coloring her cheeks as she returned the greeting.
Complete silence. As the line moved on, they both got the macaroni and a drink. But Geraldinewas nervous. Inwardly, she cursed herself for being so flustered when he was around. Then she remembered what Gabriel told her, that unless she took matters into her own hands, she might end up alone on prom night. "Uh, Yechao," she began. Then stopped and took a deep breath. "Uhm, are you going? Uh, tomorrow night? To the prom, I mean?"
He nodded, a slight blush on his face.
They were near the counter now. This was it. She had to find out. "Uhm, so who are you taking?"
Yechao opened his mouth to reply, but the entire basketball team chose that exact moment to cut through the line on their way to the gym. Geraldine sweatdropped. A moment later, she gasped when she saw Yechao lying on the ground, his macaroni on the ground, his eyes swirling around in confusion. He looked well, semi-deformed.
"Are you okay?" she asked.
He was up in a second. "Yes, I'm fine. But I think I'd better go and have this mess cleaned up." He refused to look her in the eyes. "I guess I'll catch you later." Then without another word or a backward glance, he walked away. It was only when he was gone from sight did Geraldine realize that he didn't answer her question.
The rest of her day was uneventful. In Chemistry class, they had an exam so there was no way that she could continue their conversation. But it was after school when
she had the shock of her life. She was fixing her blouse in one of the bathroom stalls when a pair of girls walked in and started talking. "That new guy Yechao is so hot," one of them said.
Geraldine perked up at the remark, feeling her fox ears popping out of her head as she strained to hear what they were saying.
"I know," the other girl agreed. "It's a shame he's taking someone to the prom."
"Really?" the first girl asked, and Geraldine nearly spoke the same word at loud.
"Who?"
"Didn't you hear? He's taking Gabriel!"
Geraldine's life was over as she felt an anvil drop on her.
***
Of course she was still alive, but Geraldine really felt like dying. Yechao and Gabriel? It wasn't fair! As she tossed and turned in her sleep, she couldn't help but glance at the dress she was supposed to wear for tomorrow. It was in her favorite shade of blue and Gabriel had even helped her pick it out. They had planned on going together in case they didn't find dates, but Geraldine was sure that hanging out with her friends was a fun way to spend the night. But now, how can she go? How can she even face them?
Needless to say, her sleepless state didn't go unnoticed. Gabriel shot her a worried glance when they met during homeroom. "Are you okay? You don't seem to be
too excited about tonight."
Geraldine managed a small smile. Technically, she wasn't allowed to feel jealous -- after all, Gabriel never knew that she was deeply in love with Yechao. There was no reason to worry her friend. "Just a little under the weather. It's
nothing," she assured her.
From across the room, she felt someone eyes on them. Geraldine raised her head to see Yechao looking at her with a concerned expression. Maybe he saw Gabriel looking worried so he was curious. In any case, Geraldine didn't think that she could stand looking at his beautiful black eyes a moment longer. She tore her gaze away. "Listen, about tonight..."
But her friend was already chatting away. "I'm still going to go over to your place to dress up, remember? I'll have my mom drop off my dress later. We're going to have so
much fun, I promise! I've already taken care of our ride and all, so you don't have to worry about anything."
"What about your date?" Geraldine asked bluntly. She wanted to ask her about Yechao, but she couldn't just find the words. She wanted Gabriel to be the one to volunteer the information.
Gabriel casually waved her question away. "Don't you worry about that, I've already fixed my plans. Hey, I'm bringing a whole bunch of nail polish for you to try on. I think I have just the right color to match your dress. And Mom lent me her pearl necklace to wear--"
Geraldine tuned her friend out, not caring anymore. It was nice to see Gabriel excited but in truth, it hurt her that she was the one that Yechao liked. And yet she couldn't stay away. If she did, her friend might suspect something. And
more importantly, Geraldine realized that she couldn't walk away from him. If he only saw her as a friend then that was enough for her.
***
"You look beautiful!" Gabriel exclaimed as Geraldine twirled around in her gown. Even if she felt depressed, putting the dress on lifted her spirits a little bit. She stared at her reflection in the mirror. Was that really her? The smooth satin clung to whatever curves she had before pooling into soft folds at her feet. It was designed to look like a dress from ancient Greece, the one goddesses were often
depicted as wearing. One shoulder held a curtain of chiffon while the other was left bare, emphasizing her glowing skin. What would Yechao say if he saw her in this?
But Geraldine had no time to worry as Gabriel began applying makeup on her. "Thanks for the compliment, but don't fuss over me, please. I can do this by myself. Besides," here she swallowed the lump in her throat, "your date might be here any moment now and you haven't even fixed your hair."
Then the doorbell rang. Gabriel let out a short shriek. "He's here! Geraldine, would you mind letting him in while I fix myself up. You're already good to go. I promise I won't take long." Before Geraldine could protest, Gabriel had already pushed her out of her own room.
Geraldine felt her chest tighten. He was going to see her now, of all times, but she didn't think her heart could stand the pain. Still, she squared her shoulders and went down to open the door.
Yechao stood at her doorstep, looking so breathtakingly handsome in a black tux. He gave her a shy smile. "I've come to pick up my date."
"Gabriel's still upstairs, you'll have to wait--" Geraldine made a move to get her friend but she stopped when Yechao suddenly grabbed her wrist and held on to it firmly. With his free hand he handed her a corsage of one pure white orchid.
Geraldine looked confused. Her heart was pounding so loudly she was afraid he could hear. "What's going on?"
"I'm taking you to the prom, Geraldine," he replied.
"But I thought you and Gabriel--"
He shook his head. "She was just kind enough to help me set up this date. I didn't have the guts to ask you to your face because I was afraid you would reject me. Which is funny, because before you, I was never afraid of rejection at all. But Gabriel kept assuring me that it would work out in the end, but I guess I didn't believe her. I hope you're not mad that we went through this."
She could only stare at him in surprise at each word. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. "Of course I'm not mad."
Yechao took a step closer. "I really like you, Geraldine, and I think you like me too?" He turned the statement into a question, standing there like a shy little boy.
Geraldine closed the distance between them. "Yes, I guess I do," she murmured.
He took her into his arms. "Have I ever told you that you look exquisite?"
She smiled. Yes, she wanted to tell him. But this time, it was no longer a dream."
Excuse me, I think I'm going to go outside and puke.
*retches*
At least there's a chiton in this.
I want to puke again
*vomits out remains of lunch*
Screwed Up Girl has just topped herself.
"A Night To Remember
Amidst a bed of flowers, Yechao drew Geraldine into his arms and declared, "Geraldine, you look exquisite."
She blushed at the intense gaze that swept over her. "Oh, Yechao."
He drew her nearer, his eyes closing slowly. "Geraldine, how many times do I have to repeat myself?"
She was jerked back to reality at the last remark, the traces of her daydream disappearing as she looked up to see Helen Tan glaring at her, a vein threatening to pop out of her forehead. Geraldine could almost see the lightning
bolts flashsing behind her teacher's back as her voice thundered over the room. "Your mind is obviously somewhere else, Geraldine, and I will not tolerate such behavior in my class!"
But before she could open her mouth to apologize, the bell rang. Helen Tan shook a finger in the air. "We're not done yet, young lady." But the warning was drowned by the rush of students that filed out of the classroom. Geraldine heaved a sigh of relief. From the corner of her eye, she noticed the object of her affection walking away.
Her best friend Gabriel joined her. "Don't tell me you were daydreaming about your Prince Charming again," her friend teased.
Geraldine flashed a guilty smile. Ever since she met Yechao at the start of the year, he was all she could think about. At first, she was drawn by his attractive features -- his sparkling black eyes, his striking black hair. She felt so warm inside when he first smiled at her, and she could swear that the world was brightened by the twinkle in his eyes. But when they were recently paired as Chemistry lab partners, she fell even more in love with his gentle, thoughtful side. Once when she was sick, Yechao visited her house and brought her their homework. Another time when she accidentally broke her beaker, he slid it over
to his side, just in time to catch the ire of their lab teacher about damaging school property. When Geraldine tried to speak up, he discreetly placed a hand on her arm and stopped her. His mere touch was enough to silence her.
But even though Gabriel knew that she was in love, Geraldine didn't dare tell her friend with whom. She was a bit reluctant that her friend would tease her to death, or worse, do something like deliver him to her bound and gagged.
"So, has this mystery guy asked you to the prom yet?" Gabriel asked.
Geraldine shook her head. "No, and I don't think that he's taking anyone else."
Gabriel scowled. "What is he, gay?" At the murderous look that Geraldine gave her, she backed off. "Okay, okay. But what are you going to do? The prom's tomorrow night! You can't wait for him to take action, you have to invite him yourself!"
Geraldine paled at the thought. "I couldn't do that! He might think I was too forward. Besides, you're one to talk. I don't hear you telling me that you have a date for tomorrow."
Her friend placed a hand over her mouth and laughed. Gabriel had a very disturbing laugh, the sound echoing through the halls. "Ohohohohoho!" Then she winked. "You've been so secretive lately that I decided to teach you a lesson. So my date is for me to know and for you to find out."
By this time, they had reached the cafeteria. Gabriel, who always brought lunch from home, went to look for a table while Geraldine got in line to buy her food. As she
debated on getting what appeared to be baked macaroni, she felt someone standing close to her. Too close. Geraldine turned to discover Yechao there, holding a lunch tray in his hands.
"Hi," he greeted her with a smile. Geraldine could feel the blush coloring her cheeks as she returned the greeting.
Complete silence. As the line moved on, they both got the macaroni and a drink. But Geraldinewas nervous. Inwardly, she cursed herself for being so flustered when he was around. Then she remembered what Gabriel told her, that unless she took matters into her own hands, she might end up alone on prom night. "Uh, Yechao," she began. Then stopped and took a deep breath. "Uhm, are you going? Uh, tomorrow night? To the prom, I mean?"
He nodded, a slight blush on his face.
They were near the counter now. This was it. She had to find out. "Uhm, so who are you taking?"
Yechao opened his mouth to reply, but the entire basketball team chose that exact moment to cut through the line on their way to the gym. Geraldine sweatdropped. A moment later, she gasped when she saw Yechao lying on the ground, his macaroni on the ground, his eyes swirling around in confusion. He looked well, semi-deformed.
"Are you okay?" she asked.
He was up in a second. "Yes, I'm fine. But I think I'd better go and have this mess cleaned up." He refused to look her in the eyes. "I guess I'll catch you later." Then without another word or a backward glance, he walked away. It was only when he was gone from sight did Geraldine realize that he didn't answer her question.
The rest of her day was uneventful. In Chemistry class, they had an exam so there was no way that she could continue their conversation. But it was after school when
she had the shock of her life. She was fixing her blouse in one of the bathroom stalls when a pair of girls walked in and started talking. "That new guy Yechao is so hot," one of them said.
Geraldine perked up at the remark, feeling her fox ears popping out of her head as she strained to hear what they were saying.
"I know," the other girl agreed. "It's a shame he's taking someone to the prom."
"Really?" the first girl asked, and Geraldine nearly spoke the same word at loud.
"Who?"
"Didn't you hear? He's taking Gabriel!"
Geraldine's life was over as she felt an anvil drop on her.
***
Of course she was still alive, but Geraldine really felt like dying. Yechao and Gabriel? It wasn't fair! As she tossed and turned in her sleep, she couldn't help but glance at the dress she was supposed to wear for tomorrow. It was in her favorite shade of blue and Gabriel had even helped her pick it out. They had planned on going together in case they didn't find dates, but Geraldine was sure that hanging out with her friends was a fun way to spend the night. But now, how can she go? How can she even face them?
Needless to say, her sleepless state didn't go unnoticed. Gabriel shot her a worried glance when they met during homeroom. "Are you okay? You don't seem to be
too excited about tonight."
Geraldine managed a small smile. Technically, she wasn't allowed to feel jealous -- after all, Gabriel never knew that she was deeply in love with Yechao. There was no reason to worry her friend. "Just a little under the weather. It's
nothing," she assured her.
From across the room, she felt someone eyes on them. Geraldine raised her head to see Yechao looking at her with a concerned expression. Maybe he saw Gabriel looking worried so he was curious. In any case, Geraldine didn't think that she could stand looking at his beautiful black eyes a moment longer. She tore her gaze away. "Listen, about tonight..."
But her friend was already chatting away. "I'm still going to go over to your place to dress up, remember? I'll have my mom drop off my dress later. We're going to have so
much fun, I promise! I've already taken care of our ride and all, so you don't have to worry about anything."
"What about your date?" Geraldine asked bluntly. She wanted to ask her about Yechao, but she couldn't just find the words. She wanted Gabriel to be the one to volunteer the information.
Gabriel casually waved her question away. "Don't you worry about that, I've already fixed my plans. Hey, I'm bringing a whole bunch of nail polish for you to try on. I think I have just the right color to match your dress. And Mom lent me her pearl necklace to wear--"
Geraldine tuned her friend out, not caring anymore. It was nice to see Gabriel excited but in truth, it hurt her that she was the one that Yechao liked. And yet she couldn't stay away. If she did, her friend might suspect something. And
more importantly, Geraldine realized that she couldn't walk away from him. If he only saw her as a friend then that was enough for her.
***
"You look beautiful!" Gabriel exclaimed as Geraldine twirled around in her gown. Even if she felt depressed, putting the dress on lifted her spirits a little bit. She stared at her reflection in the mirror. Was that really her? The smooth satin clung to whatever curves she had before pooling into soft folds at her feet. It was designed to look like a dress from ancient Greece, the one goddesses were often
depicted as wearing. One shoulder held a curtain of chiffon while the other was left bare, emphasizing her glowing skin. What would Yechao say if he saw her in this?
But Geraldine had no time to worry as Gabriel began applying makeup on her. "Thanks for the compliment, but don't fuss over me, please. I can do this by myself. Besides," here she swallowed the lump in her throat, "your date might be here any moment now and you haven't even fixed your hair."
Then the doorbell rang. Gabriel let out a short shriek. "He's here! Geraldine, would you mind letting him in while I fix myself up. You're already good to go. I promise I won't take long." Before Geraldine could protest, Gabriel had already pushed her out of her own room.
Geraldine felt her chest tighten. He was going to see her now, of all times, but she didn't think her heart could stand the pain. Still, she squared her shoulders and went down to open the door.
Yechao stood at her doorstep, looking so breathtakingly handsome in a black tux. He gave her a shy smile. "I've come to pick up my date."
"Gabriel's still upstairs, you'll have to wait--" Geraldine made a move to get her friend but she stopped when Yechao suddenly grabbed her wrist and held on to it firmly. With his free hand he handed her a corsage of one pure white orchid.
Geraldine looked confused. Her heart was pounding so loudly she was afraid he could hear. "What's going on?"
"I'm taking you to the prom, Geraldine," he replied.
"But I thought you and Gabriel--"
He shook his head. "She was just kind enough to help me set up this date. I didn't have the guts to ask you to your face because I was afraid you would reject me. Which is funny, because before you, I was never afraid of rejection at all. But Gabriel kept assuring me that it would work out in the end, but I guess I didn't believe her. I hope you're not mad that we went through this."
She could only stare at him in surprise at each word. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. "Of course I'm not mad."
Yechao took a step closer. "I really like you, Geraldine, and I think you like me too?" He turned the statement into a question, standing there like a shy little boy.
Geraldine closed the distance between them. "Yes, I guess I do," she murmured.
He took her into his arms. "Have I ever told you that you look exquisite?"
She smiled. Yes, she wanted to tell him. But this time, it was no longer a dream."
Excuse me, I think I'm going to go outside and puke.
*retches*
At least there's a chiton in this.
I want to puke again
*vomits out remains of lunch*
Post ID: 84461954
Me: how come people nowadays all have such good graphics skills
Someone: because people have no lives and thus they spend their days in front of adobe photoshop?
Mmm. Good one.
For all his bluster about me changing my YACCS template, nw.t was only too happy to help out :)
[Him:
HORRIBLE HORRIBLE NEW ARTISTIC COMMENTS PAGE
I DISAPPROVE
i want you to know i'm very very very displeased at changing the template
what's wrong with the old one!
the new one just makes us look as pretentious and "arty" as the rest of the robots.
i still wish to register that i consider this a very personal attack from a friend. you do not take the magnitude of the offense seriously enough.
typical of the collective, happy, white-bread, artistically-pretentious, slappedtogether with lame photoshop andcollage skills kind of bloggery. and linking to it only propagates its heinous stupidity, shallowness, and general lameness.
seee?
we had an old, nice functional comments form
then, you young turks demanding change went and messed it all up
change is bad
your friends are proof that webdesign is a privilege of betters, not a right of the masses.
why do you think i've refused to do a webpage of my own all these years? because i know my place and what i have to say.]
Maybe I'll add a sidebar next. Oh, the iniquity!
Yeh Haoxiang has a blog.
Someone: because people have no lives and thus they spend their days in front of adobe photoshop?
Mmm. Good one.
For all his bluster about me changing my YACCS template, nw.t was only too happy to help out :)
[Him:
HORRIBLE HORRIBLE NEW ARTISTIC COMMENTS PAGE
I DISAPPROVE
i want you to know i'm very very very displeased at changing the template
what's wrong with the old one!
the new one just makes us look as pretentious and "arty" as the rest of the robots.
i still wish to register that i consider this a very personal attack from a friend. you do not take the magnitude of the offense seriously enough.
typical of the collective, happy, white-bread, artistically-pretentious, slappedtogether with lame photoshop andcollage skills kind of bloggery. and linking to it only propagates its heinous stupidity, shallowness, and general lameness.
seee?
we had an old, nice functional comments form
then, you young turks demanding change went and messed it all up
change is bad
your friends are proof that webdesign is a privilege of betters, not a right of the masses.
why do you think i've refused to do a webpage of my own all these years? because i know my place and what i have to say.]
Maybe I'll add a sidebar next. Oh, the iniquity!
Yeh Haoxiang has a blog.
Post ID: 84460549
Tuesday, November 12, 2002
New YACCS template.
Yay.
Check it out.
Ripped, with compliments, from Blue Infusion, one of Zaixiang's interminable list of hostees.
Now I will go try to write a third GP essay in as many days. First the Death Penalty, then Immigration.
So what happens now?
10:24
I finally found out what sans serif actually means - that it's sans the serif. And I found out what a serif is.
Yay.
Check it out.
Ripped, with compliments, from Blue Infusion, one of Zaixiang's interminable list of hostees.
Now I will go try to write a third GP essay in as many days. First the Death Penalty, then Immigration.
So what happens now?
10:24
I finally found out what sans serif actually means - that it's sans the serif. And I found out what a serif is.
Post ID: 84414203
First, to comment on all of Gabriel's witty comebacks. I mean,unfortunately, as a tenant, I don't have the authority to append tumour-like paragraphs on the edge of other people's diary entries, so I have to create a new one to deal with him.
Obscene pay right now when you're still young means you can put money aside, invest it, hopefully, retire early and enjoy it then. Mediocre pay which you keep spending now means that you'll be a wage slave forever AND you still work crappy hours.
Buka puasa is that period during dawn (Maghrib prayer time) when Muslims eat their meal before fasting from sun-up to sun-down.
The SMM's friend the finance clerk. One of my fellow misanthropes.
I was practically raised in shopping centres. My father worked in Suntec for a while. So I toured the complex a few times in its various stages of completion.
Big feet mean small dicks. Or is it the other way around? Gah - it's okay. I DON'T want to know.
Langkawi is a terrible rip-off, other than its value as a liquor import haven. The hotels are shoddy (except for the hideously expensive Mutiara); there are other islands with better beaches, less crowded resorts, less wonky guides, etc etc.
I have five credit cards. Three were obtained from my first horrible job, and the only reason I retain them is because they're still registered as staff cards (ie - no annual fee). I get my ex-colleagues to make sure they STAY staff cards in the computer system every now and then. The other two I use because they (Citibank) can be used for promotional offers in Singapore as well. You can have one, but my credit limit is damned low, and unfortunately I seem to use it more often than I should across the Causeway.
And if you want to buy me a present, buy me a Demotivational Poster:) I'm seriously considering buying a few for my office. Get my Dysfunction or Failure.
I drive a Honda CR-V. Family surplus car. Petrol-consuming bitch box SUV.
A Proton Arena has been described by my friend as "the pickup truck for a contractor with only one worker" (because you can't really fit people into the lame rear portion, and there's only room for one other passenger in front).
Do you think fattening is at all an issue to my emaciated self?
I would rather have myself sodomised by a rabid bull elephant on pachyderm Viagra than live in the same house with you. Nothing personal. But I don't mind you visitng and/or crashing on occasion.
Good call on giving Sarinee the Blood Sword books for free. Given that you and I are possibly amongst the few human beings left alive on the planet who actually have a complete set, yours is more beneficially sacrificed to the vagaries of the postal service (imagine what a disaster it would be if mine were lost.). I assume you used registered mail.
ICQ UINs of SCGS and RGS girls; I suppose they're like those SDU lists of single people. A desperate semi-government conspiracy to get these lians and muggers off the streets of Orchard Road, and into Matrix-esque creches producing scholarship students and CAP/GEP biots.
MSN is not a bad product; the enter instead of 'alt-s' combination has its benefits. But the point is - I don't *trust* Passport; and the way people are growing ever dependent on its convergence with hotmail and MSN. But it has a small memory footprint (gee - Windows product, all those undocumented APIs and procedure calls), but it's irritating because other people can tell as soon as you take someone off your list. And .. I don't TRUST Passport.
Went to the wedding dinner I mentioned earlier. The wedding dinner was for my ex-assistant-manager in my first job; ironically his wife-to-be had just moved two months ago to the merchant bank I *currently* work in and we'd both been to the same orientation batch, so I know both sides of the happy couple. Was seated at a table just *next* to the entrance; my chair was being constantly shoved by the hordes of people streaming into the restaurant. I didn't expect him to have such a damn huge turnout.
My table was comprised of the groom's immediate colleagues; ie, the staff at the branch he's posted in. I suppose as an ex-colleague, it was the most appropriate grouping for me to be placed in. One of the treasury dealers where I work was at the same table as well; his wife was, coincidentally, enough, the groom's boss and my ex-manager in my previous place of
employment.
My replacement in the branch turned out to be this rather fetching ex-platinum-card salesgirl with a great figure, but a rather meek attitude throughout the whole dinner. Pity. Fortuitously, there was yet *another* replacement for one of the other officers (my branch has a hideously high turnover rate); a very cute, if somewhat over-perky chick. Another Australian alumni. And, praise the powers above, she was the only other smoker at the table; which meant that I at least had someone whom I could surreptitiously slip out in between courses of rather badly-cooked seafood for a quick smoke.
Was somewhat embarrassed to note that only half of the branch turned up for the wedding. Kind of a blow, when the employees of the branch the groom worked in previously showed up and occupied two tables. One of the guys at the table also noted that we were probably placed at the corner nearest the entrance because the groom sees his immediate colleagues every damn day - he probably didn't want a subconscious reminder of his daily toil on this joyous occasion.
Also learnt much to my great edification - if you ever have a wedding dinner, NEVER EVER EVER EVER FOR GOD'S SAKE HAVE FUCKING KARAOKE. NEVER. For one thing, all the horrible geriatrics, particularly those from the more rural parts of the world. Your more fanatic, dewlapped, gleaming-at-the-eye, "Wah sey Ah Boy/Ah Girl finally getting married I damn happy leh" type may
even bring their own laserdiscs, the better to croon/serenade/bawl out their favourite selection of Teresa Teng ballads and old Hokkien ditties.
To top it off, a successful career in commercial banking means that the groom had met a lot of clients in his time; particularly a lot from his first ulu posting, where he made close acquaintance with a large number of loansharks, property developers and contractors. Now imagine TABLES of this ilk, a free-flow of alcohol, and before you knew it, some old bastard was belting out "hai yuan" , followed by a song with the incomprehensible refrain of something like "chiu kang chang puey bo".
I watched, horror-stricken, as aged relatives soon joined in the degeneracy. Caught a glimpse of the groom; while his features were benignly impasssive, I thought I could detect an involuntary tic in his left eyebrow. The bride had vanished somewhere, probably to prevent her wedding dress train from withering.
My colleague at my desk had his face buried in his hands, and his wife murmured to me, "This is why I forbade karaoke at my own wedding."
My perky-fellow-smoking-kaki whispered, "It could be worse; at my cousin's wedding my father was dancing with a bottle of cognac in one hand to 'sha la la la la.. sha la la in the mooorning.'. At least none of them here are related to us."
Mercifully managed to flee with a deluge of other attendees with taste as soon as the last course was over, while the diehards were still caterwauling on the stage. At least the groom could be sure that there wasn't going to be leftover alcohol.
Final observation: Why do guys tend to have this semi-belligerent, yet semi-nervous look in their eyes when facing each other within the confined, rancid depths of a crowded club male toilet? I see females looking at each other with either absolute apathy or catty, open bitchiness. But never the same half-glazed, ambivalent mixture of fight-or-blush discomfort that males do.
Have finally purchased Mechwarrior : Mercenaries; while the engine is a tad dated, the game system looks *good*, and the whole "mercenary company" feel is very well captured. Might seriously consider getting the Mech Paks as well.
[Ed: The tumours could be malignant. And grow. And grow. And grow.
Anyhow a two headed snake would never survive.
Give me a credit card! Argh.
I'm giving "Stupidity" to Council. "Never underestimate the stupidity of people in large groups". Shows people skydiving. Perfect for the 23rd at their investiture.
I'm not GIVING Sarinee the books. I'm LENDING them to him. How's your set more precious than mine, apart from my battered #4? Bah. Not sent them yet.
One day I'll make a M$N is evil page. And list why it sucks. But I'd have to go scrape the barnacles off my plant pots first, since it's more pressing. The evils of integration with WinXP means my cause is lost anyway.
Sister didn't have a wedding dinner. I don't plan to have one either. Maybe a small tete e tete with friends.
Should you be checking out cute chicks? *ahem*
How come you've seen inside female toilets before?]
Obscene pay right now when you're still young means you can put money aside, invest it, hopefully, retire early and enjoy it then. Mediocre pay which you keep spending now means that you'll be a wage slave forever AND you still work crappy hours.
Buka puasa is that period during dawn (Maghrib prayer time) when Muslims eat their meal before fasting from sun-up to sun-down.
The SMM's friend the finance clerk. One of my fellow misanthropes.
I was practically raised in shopping centres. My father worked in Suntec for a while. So I toured the complex a few times in its various stages of completion.
Big feet mean small dicks. Or is it the other way around? Gah - it's okay. I DON'T want to know.
Langkawi is a terrible rip-off, other than its value as a liquor import haven. The hotels are shoddy (except for the hideously expensive Mutiara); there are other islands with better beaches, less crowded resorts, less wonky guides, etc etc.
I have five credit cards. Three were obtained from my first horrible job, and the only reason I retain them is because they're still registered as staff cards (ie - no annual fee). I get my ex-colleagues to make sure they STAY staff cards in the computer system every now and then. The other two I use because they (Citibank) can be used for promotional offers in Singapore as well. You can have one, but my credit limit is damned low, and unfortunately I seem to use it more often than I should across the Causeway.
And if you want to buy me a present, buy me a Demotivational Poster:) I'm seriously considering buying a few for my office. Get my Dysfunction or Failure.
I drive a Honda CR-V. Family surplus car. Petrol-consuming bitch box SUV.
A Proton Arena has been described by my friend as "the pickup truck for a contractor with only one worker" (because you can't really fit people into the lame rear portion, and there's only room for one other passenger in front).
Do you think fattening is at all an issue to my emaciated self?
I would rather have myself sodomised by a rabid bull elephant on pachyderm Viagra than live in the same house with you. Nothing personal. But I don't mind you visitng and/or crashing on occasion.
Good call on giving Sarinee the Blood Sword books for free. Given that you and I are possibly amongst the few human beings left alive on the planet who actually have a complete set, yours is more beneficially sacrificed to the vagaries of the postal service (imagine what a disaster it would be if mine were lost.). I assume you used registered mail.
ICQ UINs of SCGS and RGS girls; I suppose they're like those SDU lists of single people. A desperate semi-government conspiracy to get these lians and muggers off the streets of Orchard Road, and into Matrix-esque creches producing scholarship students and CAP/GEP biots.
MSN is not a bad product; the enter instead of 'alt-s' combination has its benefits. But the point is - I don't *trust* Passport; and the way people are growing ever dependent on its convergence with hotmail and MSN. But it has a small memory footprint (gee - Windows product, all those undocumented APIs and procedure calls), but it's irritating because other people can tell as soon as you take someone off your list. And .. I don't TRUST Passport.
Went to the wedding dinner I mentioned earlier. The wedding dinner was for my ex-assistant-manager in my first job; ironically his wife-to-be had just moved two months ago to the merchant bank I *currently* work in and we'd both been to the same orientation batch, so I know both sides of the happy couple. Was seated at a table just *next* to the entrance; my chair was being constantly shoved by the hordes of people streaming into the restaurant. I didn't expect him to have such a damn huge turnout.
My table was comprised of the groom's immediate colleagues; ie, the staff at the branch he's posted in. I suppose as an ex-colleague, it was the most appropriate grouping for me to be placed in. One of the treasury dealers where I work was at the same table as well; his wife was, coincidentally, enough, the groom's boss and my ex-manager in my previous place of
employment.
My replacement in the branch turned out to be this rather fetching ex-platinum-card salesgirl with a great figure, but a rather meek attitude throughout the whole dinner. Pity. Fortuitously, there was yet *another* replacement for one of the other officers (my branch has a hideously high turnover rate); a very cute, if somewhat over-perky chick. Another Australian alumni. And, praise the powers above, she was the only other smoker at the table; which meant that I at least had someone whom I could surreptitiously slip out in between courses of rather badly-cooked seafood for a quick smoke.
Was somewhat embarrassed to note that only half of the branch turned up for the wedding. Kind of a blow, when the employees of the branch the groom worked in previously showed up and occupied two tables. One of the guys at the table also noted that we were probably placed at the corner nearest the entrance because the groom sees his immediate colleagues every damn day - he probably didn't want a subconscious reminder of his daily toil on this joyous occasion.
Also learnt much to my great edification - if you ever have a wedding dinner, NEVER EVER EVER EVER FOR GOD'S SAKE HAVE FUCKING KARAOKE. NEVER. For one thing, all the horrible geriatrics, particularly those from the more rural parts of the world. Your more fanatic, dewlapped, gleaming-at-the-eye, "Wah sey Ah Boy/Ah Girl finally getting married I damn happy leh" type may
even bring their own laserdiscs, the better to croon/serenade/bawl out their favourite selection of Teresa Teng ballads and old Hokkien ditties.
To top it off, a successful career in commercial banking means that the groom had met a lot of clients in his time; particularly a lot from his first ulu posting, where he made close acquaintance with a large number of loansharks, property developers and contractors. Now imagine TABLES of this ilk, a free-flow of alcohol, and before you knew it, some old bastard was belting out "hai yuan" , followed by a song with the incomprehensible refrain of something like "chiu kang chang puey bo".
I watched, horror-stricken, as aged relatives soon joined in the degeneracy. Caught a glimpse of the groom; while his features were benignly impasssive, I thought I could detect an involuntary tic in his left eyebrow. The bride had vanished somewhere, probably to prevent her wedding dress train from withering.
My colleague at my desk had his face buried in his hands, and his wife murmured to me, "This is why I forbade karaoke at my own wedding."
My perky-fellow-smoking-kaki whispered, "It could be worse; at my cousin's wedding my father was dancing with a bottle of cognac in one hand to 'sha la la la la.. sha la la in the mooorning.'. At least none of them here are related to us."
Mercifully managed to flee with a deluge of other attendees with taste as soon as the last course was over, while the diehards were still caterwauling on the stage. At least the groom could be sure that there wasn't going to be leftover alcohol.
Final observation: Why do guys tend to have this semi-belligerent, yet semi-nervous look in their eyes when facing each other within the confined, rancid depths of a crowded club male toilet? I see females looking at each other with either absolute apathy or catty, open bitchiness. But never the same half-glazed, ambivalent mixture of fight-or-blush discomfort that males do.
Have finally purchased Mechwarrior : Mercenaries; while the engine is a tad dated, the game system looks *good*, and the whole "mercenary company" feel is very well captured. Might seriously consider getting the Mech Paks as well.
[Ed: The tumours could be malignant. And grow. And grow. And grow.
Anyhow a two headed snake would never survive.
Give me a credit card! Argh.
I'm giving "Stupidity" to Council. "Never underestimate the stupidity of people in large groups". Shows people skydiving. Perfect for the 23rd at their investiture.
I'm not GIVING Sarinee the books. I'm LENDING them to him. How's your set more precious than mine, apart from my battered #4? Bah. Not sent them yet.
One day I'll make a M$N is evil page. And list why it sucks. But I'd have to go scrape the barnacles off my plant pots first, since it's more pressing. The evils of integration with WinXP means my cause is lost anyway.
Sister didn't have a wedding dinner. I don't plan to have one either. Maybe a small tete e tete with friends.
Should you be checking out cute chicks? *ahem*
How come you've seen inside female toilets before?]
Post ID: 84399868
Sunday, November 10, 2002
Here's a good article on the real value of the female sex.
I still say the buffalo owner got dissed.
I still say the buffalo owner got dissed.
Post ID: 84317547
Friend from 40SAR on my unit:
"there's a kaffir coy rite? or smtg...
tt csm is a real asshole...
we were attached to him for ndp... every sentence he said is targetted at us.. "
NB: This is my current CSM :(
8:33PM:
After crushing a 1/3 finished essay earlier today, finally got off my butt and did an essay on the Death Penalty. Not bad, if I say so myself.
Mmm I feel more confident. And less lazy and guilty ;)
"there's a kaffir coy rite? or smtg...
tt csm is a real asshole...
we were attached to him for ndp... every sentence he said is targetted at us.. "
NB: This is my current CSM :(
8:33PM:
After crushing a 1/3 finished essay earlier today, finally got off my butt and did an essay on the Death Penalty. Not bad, if I say so myself.
Mmm I feel more confident. And less lazy and guilty ;)
Post ID: 84311169
To: Yaoi Girl
"a nice large movie screen wherein two men lie down one on top of another and they kiss?"
Erm. I don't remember this part. Ergo why I thought you were being too obsessive.
I love Mike's List:
Unfortunate Product Design
AudioBooksForFree.Com, a UK-based online MP3 audio book publisher, offers the AK-MP3 Jukebox, a $300, 20-gigabyte MP3 player built into a Kalashnikov automatic rifle ammunition magazine. You can carry it in the included camouflage ammo pack, or, if you happen to have a Kalashnikov, snap it into the rifle. Don't bother trying to take this player as carry-on next time you fly...
Picture
Buy a MIG 21: Classic Mach 2 Russian Jet Fighter
"a nice large movie screen wherein two men lie down one on top of another and they kiss?"
Erm. I don't remember this part. Ergo why I thought you were being too obsessive.
I love Mike's List:
Unfortunate Product Design
AudioBooksForFree.Com, a UK-based online MP3 audio book publisher, offers the AK-MP3 Jukebox, a $300, 20-gigabyte MP3 player built into a Kalashnikov automatic rifle ammunition magazine. You can carry it in the included camouflage ammo pack, or, if you happen to have a Kalashnikov, snap it into the rifle. Don't bother trying to take this player as carry-on next time you fly...
Picture
Buy a MIG 21: Classic Mach 2 Russian Jet Fighter
Post ID: 84304314
Someone suggests that, to not waste my time in bondage, I learn driving and take some courses, especially the technical sort.
I'm slightly more convinced about the merits of learning driving, hearing him tell it, but still... Bah, maybe during the battalion's lull.
Of course, there's the obligatory commentary on females. Trite, but still somewhat intriguing :)
1:09PM:
I HATE MALAY FOOD.
My mouth's aflame.
I'm slightly more convinced about the merits of learning driving, hearing him tell it, but still... Bah, maybe during the battalion's lull.
Of course, there's the obligatory commentary on females. Trite, but still somewhat intriguing :)
1:09PM:
I HATE MALAY FOOD.
My mouth's aflame.
Post ID: 84301973
*bleep*
More Malaysia Stories:
In Penang, a burger seller was irritated by his noisy housemate and threw a Molotov cocktail into the room. Malaysia Boleh!
Quotes:
[On Jamie Teo] I just find she is more, higher class of Ah Lian (a)
Imagine it's the ACJC age group, the Katong Convent look, and the Nee Soon girl's attitude to you. [Someone: Xia la. I'm getting married now. Stayout some more.]
More Malaysia Stories:
In Penang, a burger seller was irritated by his noisy housemate and threw a Molotov cocktail into the room. Malaysia Boleh!
Quotes:
[On Jamie Teo] I just find she is more, higher class of Ah Lian (a)
Imagine it's the ACJC age group, the Katong Convent look, and the Nee Soon girl's attitude to you. [Someone: Xia la. I'm getting married now. Stayout some more.]
Post ID: 84282950
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