Let me be straight.

I am not a Trek fan, even though I seem to recognise the logo of the Enterprise very well.

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I find the characters in Star Trek terribly dorky in their circus-looking outfits, and every anal-retentive episode features a segmented experience of Loo-tenant Data's menstrual cycle. Somemore, they all look like alternative, cannot-make-it replacement models in a lycra-cum-spandex fashion show, and I am not the least convinced that beaming someone up is the way to go from point A to point B.

On the other hand, I have to thank dad for blowing most of his money away buying those carded figures at the old Plaza Singapura eons ago after watching the first Star Wars movie at Cathay. It was him that triggered the Force in our family - he was the Ultimate Jedi Master that spawned the Padawan learner in all of us. He would summon us to bed with a sleigh of his hand, and simply unleash his rotan lightsaber to discipline us without even the need to use it to slice us up.

He is Our Master.

TOP TEN REASONS WHY THE STAR WARS CHARACTERS WOULD KICK BUTT IN THE STAR TREK UNIVERSE

10) In the Star Wars Universe weapons are rarely, if ever, set on "stun".
9) The Enterprise needs a huge engine room with an anti-matter unit and a crew of 20 just to go into warp --- The Millennium Falcon does the same thing with R2-D2 and a Wookie.
8) After resisting the Imperial torture droid and Darth Vader, Princess Leia still looked fresh and desirable --- After pithy Cardassian starvation torture, Picard looked like hell.
7) One word: Lightsabers.
6) Darth Vader could choke the entire Borg empire with one glance.
5) The Death Star doesn't care if a world is class "M" or not.
4) Luke Skywalker is not obsessed with sleeping with every alien he encounters.
3) Jabba the Hutt would eat Harry Mudd for trying to cut in on his action.
2) The Federation would have to attempt to liberate any ship named "Slave I".
1) Picard pilots the Enterprise through asteroid belts at one-quarter impulse power --- Han Solo floors it.

Damn. I would give up almost anything to have this diorama in my room.

And I can bet he'll never break the speed limit on THIS speederbike. Great set-up, though.

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You can find more of these photos here.

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And check out the video below, if you like some friendly chutzpah between Wars and Trek and that kinda thing.

Hah! I knew it.

While cruising along our nice roads, I had this uncanny feeling that one of our political party's symbol has a deja vu touch to a certain movie.

Hah! I was right.

Check out the similarity.

See?

The one on the left is the official fleet insignia of the Starship Enterprise from the Star Trek Series!!!! Amazing similarity ( remember, you read this first here)!

Haha. I hope our local version can also boldly go where no man has been as well.

Hmm... as a Vulcan would say: "live long and prosper".
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Indeed.

So this is him.

Toca Rivera, ladies and gentlemen.

(And I thought he was equal to Jon Jonsson). Good match, J! :)

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On a lighter note, too much biology can be bad for your health - and your linguistic intepretation of common, daily phrases.

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I didn't realise I was late for another class - cos I was busily responding to some students' queries in another class - and the lessons were back-to-back, so I quickly rushed to the next venue without checking.

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Alamak. Is it sec 4X or sec 4Y?

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I took my chance and entered one of them. The first thing that I spontaneously blurted out at the door was :

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"PEOPLE, DID I MISS MY PERIOD?"

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The girls laughed like crazy, man.

Book Me.

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A good student of mine asked whether I read a lot.

Well, to tell the truth, I am really a 'convenience' reader when it comes to literary gravitation.

As an example, since almost half the planet is reading The Da Vinci Code, I might as well join the crowd and read it and thus be able to intelligently debate on Christ's supposed lineage with the void deck's senior citizens' club every weekend.

So I'll troop down to the cheapest bookstore in town ( Sunny's at Far East Plaza is a good place to start - hey! I'm giving them a good advertisement here ), followed by Borders, Kinokuniya and then the nearest 7-eleven for that New Paper headline browsing. I always end up with at least a book every fortnight.

Occasionally, a watch magazine sometimes makes its' way to the shopping bag as well. The Panerai shots are hard to resist.

I sucked terribly in Literature, and was never good at it. In fact, the Lit teacher in secondary school once told me that if the Great Bard was alive, he would have given up on theatre because I had excellently (and constantly) massacred his plays from a finesse of thous, thys and thees into a fracas of thosei-s, taik-s and tits.

My england is that powderful.

I tried to take on Hemingway and Theroux once, but it was waaaaaaay too heavy for me. I do not sardonistically detest melodramatic opulence in classics, but I'm guessing my intellectual capacity to retain a ninety-word sentence without a single comma is not up to par yet. Haha. Hopefully, I'll finish The Old Man and The Sea before I Die.

I just completed Love in the Time of Cholera, but my asymptomatic stomach gurgling will probably continue with the following range. Like I said, a 'convenient' reader throws away a book at any moment on his whim and picks up another. The books below are deemed casual victims of my nondescript acts of non-committance.

Homer's Odysey. Page 3. Stopped reading approximately 13 months ago. Will pick up to continue when I'm entering menopause.

Nick Bantock's The Forgetting Room. Page 67. Stopped reading about 2, 3,4 months ago?!? I keep forgetting.

Bill Bryson's epic. Can't remember which page - there were like so many numerals and digits inside anyway. I remembered where I left off though - the page where it says cockroaches and humans share the same nocturnal sexual orientations. Wah lau.

Oliver Sacks' best book. Stopped at the end of Chapter 1 - or Chapter 2? Hmm. I could be mistaken.

Batman Graphic Novel - Arkham Asylum. I stopped at every page and examine it for a long, long time - then I chucked it away . The artwork is criminal. Fantastic.

James McBride's The Colour of Water. I bought it months back merely because it appears on every bestseller stack in every bookstore. It's in my working bag now for weeks. I read one page everyday. I'm on page 7.

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The good student also noticed that the way I talked in class and the way I write differs by light years. Interesting.

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Well, I guess I can be eloquent and cheem and arty-farty and all that high-class stylo-milo and all that when I want to, but then, I am just being myself.

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I guess if you're sincere in what you do, the literary magic in you works its' charm by itself.

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:)

It's raining outside as I'm typing this.

Morning rain is almost certainly a stimulus to a slow, slow day. If the rain doesn't stop and drags on to noon, I can bet that the girls will be falling asleep in no time.

A cool breeze is sashaying me to sleep even as I am contemplating taking a caffeine break already - which I don't do at all - I don't drink coffee. The morning drizzle has a dead calm effect in schools - everybody is slowly poisoned by the toxins of a lower and cooler room temperature. By the third period three quarters of the class would have surrendered themselves to their tables and make love to them.

I have tons of work left to do, but writing journals like these made those chores a bit bearable.

Yesterday, I brought human foetuses to the classroom.

It's actually very skewed to hold a small human being soaked in a jar of formalin and admire it/her/him in the name of science.

But behind every foetus, therein lies a tragic story that ends it in the way it is now - preserved unceremoniously for gawking eyes.

I do not subscribe to the notion that intentional abortion is a plausible option of getting out of pregnancy. However, my only take is that if those people really want to throw away an innocent life, they should really consider reflecting the consequences of every possible tangent there is - morally, socially, religion, ethics etc.

I am just wondering whether they remember the notion of being responsible.

Drizzling Dreamin'

It was raining inside Somerset MRT station this early morning.

Yup. Apparently the aircon didn't work and water was dripping everywhere from the ceiling. I swore I was still dreaming when a passenger actually opened his umbrella to alight from the train. Was I on the Morning Express to Surreal County?

Someday, we'll find it, our rainbow connection.

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I remember very well the day you told me this - that we should never bother trying to please the whole world, because we'll die trying. What really matters are the people closest to you, that's all.

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I remember that moment very well.

Plastic Beauty

I am perturbed by this article in today's CNA.

I guess when you really have parents who can forked out twenty thousand grand for you to reduce your nostril size, get a chin implant and have a double-eyelid operation at a surgical centre on a whim simply implies that money is merely a vehicle to obtaining that state of 'perceived' physical perfection.

Although I still think it's going to be very scary to have lots of women looking like Catherine Zeta-Jones at every kopitiam I go to in the near future.

But the fact that some people are resorting to begging, borrowing or even stealing money just to go under the knife is a panic button waiting to be fully pressed for a long, long time.

The value of a surgical makeover is going to be undermined soon as a necessity for some people, and not as a means for social acceptance anymore, eg. reconstructive surgery for accident victims. A makeover now is deemed passe if you don't go under the scalpel.

It's like a initiation rite for high society, more so for socialites, and certainly looking very, very possible in mere socialites-wannabes and exhibitionistas.

This is very scary. Sooner or later, everyone's teenage photos will look totally different from their adult photos - and not because they have more or less hair.

And the hippiest place in town will no longer be the Ministry of Sound again. Yup - you guessed it.

Let's meet up at The Woffles'.

Sheesh.

Did they really put that in?

Funny subtitles again. This time it's from a compilation of hong kong martial arts movies. Picture is only a reference to increase your imagination when you act out the monologue.

"I threat you! I challenge you meet me on the roof tonight for a duet!"
"I will kill you until you are dead from it!"
"The bullets inside are very hot. Why do I feel so cold?"
"I got knife scars more than the number of your leg's hair!"
"I am damn unsatisfied to be killed in this way."
"Fatty, you with your thick face have hurt my instep."
"I'll fire aimlessly if you don't come out!"
"You are too useless. And now I must beat you."
"Gun wounds again?"
"A normal person wouldn't steal pituitaries."
"You always use violence. I should've ordered glutinous rice chicken."
"Take my advice, or I'll spank you without pants."
"Beware! Your bones are going to be disconnected."
"Who gave you the nerve to get killed here?"
"Quiet or I'll blow your throat up."
"You daring lousy guy."
"Beat him out of recognizable shape!"
"How can you use my intestines as a gift?"
"Damn, I'll burn you into a BBQ chicken!"
"This will be of fine service for you, you bag of the scum. I am sure you will not mind that I remove your manhoods and leave them out on the dessert flour for your aunts to eat."
"Yah-hah, evil spider woman! I have captured you by the short rabbits and can now deliver you violently to your gynecologist for a thorough extermination."
"Greetings, large black person. Let us not forget to form a team up together and go into the country to inflict the pain of our karate feets on some @$$ of the giant lizard person."
"Your spear is useless... You better use it for mixing excretory."
"Now I feel flatulent, and you did it."
"My innards have all been disturbed by him."
"That may disarray my intestines."
"This is the Martial Arts Competition, not a place for fighting!"
"A normal person wouldn't steel pituitaries!"

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And my personal favourite:

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"I please your uterus. You kiss my toes. It's fair."

Order in Chaos

I could never fathom shorthand writings. Doctors, secretaries, reporters and the auntie taking orders at Far East makan places - they all do it, albeit in some personal style or another.

I gave up deciphering the above - I swear there's a code somewhere.

Din copied for me a CD of some presentations regarding Human Reproduction, and left the following note on top of it - his idea of a joke.

Hmm... that explains why I'm always feeling nauseous in the mornings. Duh.

The King and I

Today I came face to face with a superhero.

A superhero, literally, in the universe of mere mortals, is still an understatement here. He is The Dude, The Man, The One, The Will etc.

He came to school today to inspire us. And I am inspired.

He is William Tan, the Olympian who completed ten marathons in seven continents in seventy days.

A typical marathon's distance is 42.195 km. Multiply it by ten and you have 421.95 km on your hands.

Literally, for William Tan. That's because he uses his hands for the whole of this distance.

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By no means are his great feats eclipsed by his plight as a paraplegic and his difficult early years, yet he shows great resolute, a dare to push the envelope of impossibility and fears absolutely nothing. He is the supreme epitome to the many ordinary people among us who needs the occasional push to exert ourselves out of these doldrums we're in. He is a doctor, a scientist, a neurosurgeon, a world-class athlete, a kindergarten dropout, a champion of the fight against cancer and an outstanding example of the human race.

And here he is in school this morning, delivering a motivational talk during assembly. Interestingly, I just read the papers of how he had spent the last 24 hours on a treadmill yesterday, breaking another Guinness record like nobody's business. Damn, I am ashamed of myself.

I am going to wear out my Nikes very soon, because that means I will be pushing myself harder (hopefully) in training for the coming biathlons in July and September. And I will try to maximise time and really, really put quality in them - no slacking, no chocolate milkshakes ( damn Macs! ) and no belgian triple chocolate wafflenut ice-cream ( damn Haagendazs! ).

And I am going to try to be the best teacher my students can possibly have, because like William Tan, I want to firstly, inspire myself, and secondly, inspire others to aspire themselves to greater heights.

Wow. 'Heavy' words, man. Indeed.

Lesson learnt : There is no limit to the human endeavour. Will Tan just proved that to me.

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Hmm...maybe I am there. A nice surprise ( and inspiring too ) on the whiteboard from the girls - and it's exactly a month late. But hey, it's the thought that counts, what.

Wow. I could run a marathon now. :)

Sundays are indispensable

Douglas Adams : Your request is granted - and enlarged. Click here for your hand-grenade fruit.

J : Wow. Somewhere over the rainbow huh? Wonder what's at the end of it? I've chased rainbows for 'that elusive pot of gold' since I was three, and all I get is a lousy leprechaun story at the end. Haha.

Weather was bleak in the early hours, but I still managed to clock at least eight klicks. The Nikes are not as comfortable as they seemed to be. I've got a bad blister in the end, but then again, I wasn't wearing any socks, so it's all my fault.

The band of riders on their Konas whizzed past like lightning, only much more colourful.

Jogging is really the epidural of a stressed mind. Everything's just cleared up once those endorphins kicked in. It's all really in the breathing. Really. Once you achieved that, I guessed the only other barrier is to maintain that pace - and I have quirks of pacing myself even during those awfully slow runs. I try to visualise myself jogging beside my other platoon mates during OCS times, not because we were at the most fittest ( duh ) but that same intensity that we put in during our daily runs could actually made us go on and on, and with everyone pacing one another, we simply cleared endless miles along Pasir Laba camp.

The only thing that you deduce after meeting a car salesperson is that they'll only want to make you buy their cars. Nothing significant, not even the tiniest impression that they were once humans in the first place.

Dinner in town was slack. And I mean, really slack. And for the fact that everytime I see a 3 series white Beemer roving by, out comes an ah pek with a really cute chic beside him - and that really pisses me off. Like, totally.

I want the car, not the chic.

Randall deservedly won the Apprentice this time around. There is no competition - all the other contestants stood up for him and got his vote. How embarrasing would that be for Rebecca - suddenly felt all alone when even Randall had to 'backstab' her at the last moment when asked by The Donald if he felt that another apprentice should be hired to take over another project. Randall simply said that the show is about hiring The 'Apprentice', and not the 'Apprenti'.

I guess in a dog-eat-dog world, everybody is out trying to make fools of one another if they had the chance. Or worse, get out of the s***hole first when you see it and let others fall into it. I can't fathom exactly how the reality of tv shows have made us more humane. In truth, I think the visualization of the interplaying human dynamics that focused mainly on b****ing, backstabbing and sheer mockery of each other's weakness actually made me feel that for once, a tv personality is no more a prized jewel on celluloid, and less saccharine than our own, omnipotent weaknesses - and we even don't have to pay to feel exploited sometimes.

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I really pity the poor protagonists on those reality tv shows.

It's That Time of The Year.

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Yup. Election time again. Was walking around a certain GRC's heartland mall when I saw two opposing parties converging in at the same coffeeshop at the same time. Well, whadya expect? A spontaneous rebuttal ala parliament (albeit in a kopitiam setting) from the opposition party ? Forget it. What was in abundance though, were the generous smiles that were etched in harmonious synchronicity from both sides - pearly-whites a must. And oh ya, the (probably disgruntled) kopitiam owner must have been only too happy to dish out cup after cup of free teh susu and milo peng to everyone, me included.

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Haha - I never knew this would be fun - freeflow of milo peng at unorthodox coffeeshops during these periods. I'd vote for the taukey anytime.

Waiting

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I am feeling terribly melancholic today.

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It's not the rain, nor the sweet lull of the air-conditioning that trickles your senses towards comatose.

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I am just wanting to be happy, that's all.

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I just want to be happy, and be happy for the rest of my life.

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There are many things that I would have changed in my life if I could, but alas I am a mere mortal in this universe destined by the strings of Fate, Destiny and Luck.

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I have tried to live things as they come, and I really tried to make it painless as much as I can afford to by salvaging my remaining strength and the inner will.

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Sometimes I feel the life sapping away from me.

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I don't pretend to hide them, like the pain never existed at all, but I lived through them, wondering and continuing to wonder as I wander.

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I get lost a lot of times. I guess I was just trying to be me.

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I won't do a Jerry McGuire and say that you complete me. I won't go mushy for the sake of textual tittilation.

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But you made me realise that I was able to do many things that I couldn't possibly imagine I would. You made me feel tireless; I was never tired with you.

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And you made me happy.

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This part is real. As real as it gets, I could never forget them.

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The melancholic part of my life is you.

Now this is NOT funny.

Went for a medical check-up last week at a premier medical centre and just got back a copy of the report today - and I'm not smiling at the end.

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No medical histories, no allergies, no damn nuthin'....and still freakin' UNFIT?

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Sheesh. I don't think I need another doctor. I need a lawyer.

An Ode to the Heavens



the adrenaline junkie out rushing to beat the time

gotta finish marking those assignments past, present and now

ok that's done this one's too

let's go, let's go! alamak the rain! wah lau!

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they come from the heavens in streaks

of vapour and thunder in the shimmering glow

of the bolts, they accompany the flooding of the land asunder

damn, the basketball girls can play water-polo

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The agigated fool pleaded for the heavens

and dismissed any notions of going tralalalaika

happiness aside, impudence resumes

damn, i forgot to bling my umblella.

Really? U Don't Say...

J : Saya kasi you tahu yang saya ada Nano cantik. Can you translate that?

God, the Nano earphones are so pathetic.

It's really flimsy and budget-looking, somehow I am appalled the people at Apple actually let it pass QC.

I can imagine even accidentally strangling myself to death with those cords when I jog, with them oscillating all over my body parts. Nah, the Nano-clip on the biceps won't do for me either. I just hold it in my hands when I run.

And for sure I won't be spotted wearing these dorky things on me.

I swear I'll look like a hippy Darth Vader with an expanded cerebellum.

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A friend had just experienced a bad broke-up.

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He came to confide in me - and told me stuffs etc. what actually happen, who started this mess, who threw the first projectile, who punched first, and so on. I was really sorry for him man. He is really a nice guy who won't even hurt an Aedes mosquito, so I listened intently, trying to visualise the duel in Matrix slow-mo style, when he suddenly interjected in between crocodile tears and sobbingly asked me this soalan cepumas ( million dollar question ) :

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"Hey dude. Tell me this. What does a girl REALLY, REALLY want?"

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I donno.

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It never crossed my mind actually.

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I mean, when you go out with the opposite sex, you don't give marks to his/her nose size or measure his/her incisors to make sure he/she doesn't look like a distant cousin of Bugs Bunny what.

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Or, for that matter, you don't bring a poster of a Manhunt winner or Pamela Anderson along on the date and compare your date to that image, simply because the too-good and slick images are either photoshopped or these people simply don't exist at all.

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Ok. Fine. Maybe I'm a bit jealous of these Manhunt contestants, but the point here is that you should always never compare the physical values of others with demi-gods or progeny of the Perfect Man.

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Ok. So girls should always accept the face values of guys, and appreciate them as they come.

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So, in restropect, I think a girl / woman / anyone with a uterus would appreciate the following stuffs in men;

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(not in order of merit)

1. decent physical attributes - like acceptable heights ( altho maybe some women might have hobbit-induced fetishes ) and acceptable weights. In Singapore, if you are a normal functioning male and exceeds your BMI, your chances are half gone, dudes ( altho that's debatable ).

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2. decent looks - like Brad Pitt, Tom Cruise and other gay-looking characteristics, like a chiselled jaw and perfect teeth. Or someone really special looking like Moses Lim. The definition of cute here - ugly but adorable - is always taken out of context.

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3. a sense of humour - women like to be charmed and entertained. Enuff said. If you are as interesting as kangkong, I suggest you better consider impregnating the taugey species to extend your heritage or simply watch episodes of Whose Line Is It a bazillion times over to increase the funnyman genes.

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4. $$$ - Decent amounts of cash and platinum cards always helps the magnetisation pull. Provided of course, the cards are not made of paper and spelled SIVA, Mastercarp or American Impress.

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5. Gentleman one moment, fun guy the next - always a bonus score. Girls appreciate this schizo effect all the time. Whiny guys are best placed in the Singapore Zoo.

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6. Last ( and definitely not least ) - a kind and gentle heart. Practice makes perfect. Spending time at SPCA every Saturday for at least six months will improve your humanitarian relationship with pets, and therefore boost your chance of taking your future in-laws' dobermans on their night prowls.

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Damn. I'm beginning to sound like an Aunt Agony column.

This is the World's Funniest Joke

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Well, at least that's what this article is claiming. Judge for yourself.

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Two hunters are out in the woods when one of them collapses. He doesn't seem to be breathing and his eyes are glazed. The other guy takes out his phone and calls the emergency services.

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He gasps: "My friend is dead! What can I do?" The operator says: "Calm down, I can help. First, let's make sure he's dead."

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There is a silence, then a gunshot is heard. Back on the phone, the guy says: "OK, now what?"

What the fish!

A colleague came over to my table and noticed the weird pics of intestines and other grotesque human insides on one of my powerpoint presentations for my lessons. She remarked about how she underwent an endoscopy of her intestines once, and feeling very weird when the doctor showed her a video of her ileum and colon on high definition plasma screens.

I casually told her that her uneasiness was just her gut feelings, that's all.

Haha!(now that's what you get from seeing repeated airings of Whose Line episodes every day - integrated spontaneous corny-ness).

Another colleague came to me and said this gleefully:

"Everytime I see you I want to pinch your face".

Huh? Did she mean 'punch' and got her vowel mixed up? Did I offend her in any way as to be threatened with facial abomination? Was there a ridiculous-looking zit on my face ready to be popped by eager, itchy fingers?

Feeling quirky, I HAD to ask her again. I was dying to know why.

Duh.

She was referring to my new pets on my table - a sudden attraction in the staff room.

Aiya. Heard wrongly. What an anticlimax.

Love in the Air

Rushed off to town after work to met up with some pals yesterday for dinner.

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It was then that I saw her.

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She was leaning against the glass window, her beauty radiating for endless miles, and I stood transfixed in the glowing aura emanating from her sheer presence.

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She was perfection.

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I had so much wanted her to be mine. I yearned for her every night. I cried in my sleep desiring for her.

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As I continue to drown in her illumination, I yearned a secret desire to want her only for myself. I have to take this chance and externalise my feelings for her - now. I could never be the same man again if I passed by this golden opportunity to cement something concrete in my rite of life's passage.

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I had missed her so much the last time I saw her in the papers a couple of months ago.

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I can go up and strike a conversation. Maybe even hold her.

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And quite possibly, I'll try really hard to bring her home that night.

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Oh, what the heck - I'll just buy her off the streets then.

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Finally - my NEW RUNNING SHOES. I need them, man. The old ones have jaws the size of Jaws.

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Perfect. She'll be my sole replacement, my sole companion.

Love in the Time of Cubicles

I finished the last few pages of Senor Garcia Marquez's epic love story yesterday - in the loo.

No, I wasn't experiencing diarrhoea, but the house's too crowded anywhere for me to find that solitude to indulge in that climactic conclusion between the spurned lovers in the final pages - hence, the privacy of the toilet - and the unfortunate company of excrement and putrid latrine.

Good God. Oi - who never flush ah? Basketball.

Florentino Ariza is a very, very, very, very patient man. How can anyone wait over fifty years to be with his love of a lifetime - and not go crazy at all waiting?

This is insane. Or he is insane.

Or maybe I am.

Oh never mind. I'm done with this book anyway...

And starting on this...

A funny take on the epic title, but more of gastronomic love. Perfect. Just what I need to complement what I'm currently teaching.

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Hmm. Love in the Time of Convenience.

An Evening worth $10 000.
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Am doing my part to support the girls in the Hollaback Crew Finals. Even had a green T-shirt on - haha! Let's go, people!
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Late. Whoa. By the time we got there, the stadium was already a cauldron of fire.
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Tried to sneak into the front VIP seats, but were chased out by some elephants impersonating as fierce-looking human beings.
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What rotten luck. I was this close to Nadya Hutagalong.
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Lumbered in total darkness on to the left side of the stage.
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View from this angle was abysmally pathetic. A few tactical scouting later and we realised that the top terrace balcony was available, so we quickly migrated up north.
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Nice. This place can lah.
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Some quirky things I faintly remembered before the girls came out :

1. A child(?) doing a handstand on a moving skateboard. Wah lau.

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2. Some outrageous headspins. I think one guy wasn't wearing a helmet. Whoa. Beware of a stunted neck man after the show.

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3. A 70's cabaret singer in a gold sequinned dress in one of the groups.

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4. Real nifty footwork in Streetfusion. Lotsa energy.

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5. Local children songs massacred into rap numbers.

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6. A participant doing a somersault - and falling unceremoniously on his bum.

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7. Two morons who swept the glitter off the floor after every performance - without using brooms.

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8. A pineapple that actually deserved a louder ovation than an actual human being.

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9. That mutton Radio DJs lurrrrrrve Tammy.

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10. Big red plastic buckets, and not empty vessels, make the most noise.

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Ok, here comes the girls! Pheeeeeew-witttttttttttttttt!!!!
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I screamed so loud I think I'm going to have mouth ulcers and tonsilitis soon. THEY WERE EXCELLENT.
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Click Five was loud - but good. Any louder and I can say goodbye to my treasured moments of bathroom singing and reminisced how beautiful my voice is inside the toilet.
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WE WON.
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Yup. As simple as it can be. Pandemonium seized the whole right corner terrace of the Indoor Stadium, and grabbed a particular solitary figure estatically waving like mad on the top terrace balcony floor.

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The feeling of being the WORLD's First Hollaback Crew - priceless.

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There are just some things money can't buy - like choking on your own saliva when you screamed at the top of your vocal cords.

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Magnificent. And all $10 000 of it.
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Simply enthralling and adrenaline-pumping. I nearly pee-d in my pants.

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On a lighter note, this must be the ugliest girls in uniform (hairy legs somemore) I have ever seen in my entire life ( photo unintentionally blurred ).

WELL DONE GIRLS! (me off to drink honey and lime to soothe me throat now).

Mare Imbrium

Late Thursday night, from where I was sitting at the bus-stop waiting, the full moon and the nearby street light glow in complementary shades of luminosity in complementary fashion - like the pole had two different illuminations on each side. Quirky indeed. I had to take this shot.

Watching a full moon always flood me with lingering memories. That complete orb in the night sky, visible to billions of people who looked up to the shimmering evening sky at this same magnificent moon, yet all of them separated a million miles away from each other, and still sharing the same heaven.

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I wonder.

How Vitriolic!

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After dinner on Friday evening, the gang went to this particular mosque near Republic Poly to conduct our evening prayers. I parked the car in and the others streamed into the loos and then took their ablution. We were the only ones around, so I figured it was safe enough to park the car in the small side porch of the mosque.

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After prayers were done, I started the car engine first but went to the loo for awhile. Before that, I had sighted this Toyota Wish stopping across the entrance of the porch, and I couldn't figure out if the driver had wanted to come in and reverse his vehicle. It was only after I came back from the toilet that I was shocked to find his Toyota blocking the path of my car's exit.

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I quickly searched for him around the compound, and kindly wanted him to remove his vehicle, but the response wasn't what I expected. He scowled at me, made some sarcastic remarks and told me that I had greatly inconvenience him.

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I guess even when we're about to face God, the greatest trick of all is to understand that we're being tested by Him at the most crucial times. I was hoping for some shred of patience in him. Unfortunately, I didn't see a single trace of humanity at all in that Muslim brother of mine. I was very upset by his vitriolic comments, but I quickly cast them aside, even when I was later prodded by Mak who asked if something went wrong.

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The lesson learnt for yours truly is this : inspite of everything that happened in our lives, patience and perseverance always lead the way.

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We're mere mortals after all, you and me. There's no denying the fact that we make mistakes everyday in our lives. And sometimes we receive the brunt of other's fury for no apparent reason whatsoever. Just take that in with patience, and hold on to that dignity, because at the end of the day, that thought alone makes us want to become better people.

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Somewhere along the lines above in my head, I managed a smile to myself.

Bukit Batok ghost article

Aha! Now I know how far back my intrepid attempt at collecting quirky articles from newspapers goes.

It seems my love for quirky writings had me cutting up weird stuffs from our dailies, and one of them happened to appear in my hands by chance this Friday (public holiday somemore) morning (actually, the much-needed spring cleaning helps). Click pic to read.

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I was in Primary Three that time and Teacher told us to write a summary report on any interesting article in the newspaper. This article caught my attention so much I got so interested in spooks I nearly handed in a one-thousand-worded thesis on the supernatural had my dad not intervened. Notice also the nice girly border I did to accentuate my assignment.

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Wah piang eh - cannot believe it man. Bukit Batok also got ghost ah? And the Straits Times actually send a 'ghost reporter' to check it out? This is haunting news, indeed.

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Haha.

The GSS is back.
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That's right. And it's not even June yet. The Great Stationary Sale ( GSS ) came to school today. The nice Pilot pen auntie had to manage chaotic and ransacking individuals - called 'teachers' - flocking out for great bargains and discounts at cut-throat prices.
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And what a bargain. Check out my superbuy.
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One pilot V2000 pen (0.7) at 50 cents. Six for $3.00!So Cheep!!!

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I LOVE PILOT PENS. CORRECTION. I LOVE CHEAP PILOT PENS.

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Yay! Cheap black pens. That means I can afford to lose more black pens and displace them all over my room now, because I'll definitely have a greater chance of finding one in the mess.

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Yay! Cheap red pens. That means I can mark more scripts, which also means that I need to set more papers, since I can't give the excuse anymore for not having enuff red pens to finish marking; which also means I have to slog more time at night to search for more stuff to prepare the papers, which also means that I might not have a life in the next year of my teaching life because I need to adapt to prehistoric times with enough bread and water to sustain my existence just to mark the more and more scripts I've prepared.

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Y-a-y.

Hail the Kings of The World

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Neighbour Edwin and me went jogging yesterday night. A couple of rounds around the park and we settled to rest at the static exercise station.

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Edwin was nearing his ORD soon. He was asking me for advice; what he should do after he finished serving the nation. The following is Edwin's own summation of the most distinct breed of the human genome, the homo sapiennerdis.

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"I think I want to go into educational psychology. U know, that kind of stuff they teach at SIM. Maybe there'll be big money there, who knows".

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"Ya, man".

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"Or maybe I'll carry on to get a degree first. Nowadays all need a degree one. Maybe I'll ask my dad to borrow me some, and then maybe I'll go overseas".

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"Hmm... that's cool too".

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"But DAMN! My CAP not good enuff. Freak, man. I should have studied hard dat time. See lah, now I dunno what to do. Local Uni only take in the top 10% of poly people. Shit, man. I should have REALLY studied hard..."

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"Well..."

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"...like those bladdy nerds , u know. Other people go clubbing, go pubbing, they all mugging and mugging all da time. See where they all now. Wah lau, one of them actually got a job before even exam start. Jibeh. That really sucks, man. And I heard his nerd brother just got promoted to a director or something at Singtel. Wah lao eh...."

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"I think..."

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"...AND all the other bladdy nerds sacrificed their youth away to mug, mug, MUG, and we suck, suck, SUCK. I'm a loser, man. I should have been a nerd, man. I really should have been a nerd. Because you know what?"

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"What?"

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"At the end of the day, nerds, they rule the world, man".

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"..."

Makkau...
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So big ah the calculator? This must be the biggest one I have ever seen - yet. With that size, I bet you can also use your elbows to picit-picit the digits.

Who do we blog for?

That question, though pertinent-sounding, is nonetheless useless and rhetorical.

It means that you don't have to answer it.

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Blogs are incessant piles of journals ranging from the very zealous to the very anal.

Some friends asked one another the ethical sense of blogging: is it an online diary, a library of anecdotes and thoughts, or random musings of rubbish?

Do we have a specific audience to crave for our journals, or do we write at our own whims and ignore civility for the sake of our personal trash?

It's quite a discerning issue, you see. At least to some to my friends ( I refused to be a part of their chaos theories ).

I have encountered many a blog that has more of the 'f' word than any other words in his entries. As if this guy was hell-bent on demonstrating his reticent and incorrigible ways against normalcy in his everyday life. To this, the fella would most probably say, "f*** normalcy!"

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And I think we have millions of blogs like that.

I have, unfortunately, surfed through endless blogs of individuals who copiously drowned readers with their 'endless schedule' online. This would seem very informative for people who wants to know what the blogger is doing at what time and at what place, but the overall effect is that it leaves more doors to be opened to uninvited guests to take a peek of what you're doing - AND if you actually don't mind them 'peeping' at you in cyberspace, that is.

Where then, is the notion of individual privacy in Blogs? Or is there simply an illusion of privacy at all to begin with?

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Lest this sounds like the beginning of a three thousand-worded GP essay, I am personally just trying to get to terms with some fellow friends who have great difficulty expressing themselves in person and has to resort to Blogger to achieve bits of Fame.

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I think it's cool that you can be witty and really write interesting stuff for you to reflect later on in your mental asylum years.Haha.

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In some aspects, most of us who read other people's blogs are literary voyeurs or virtual-based peeping toms who craved for the absolute in amusement - that is, the indulgement of hidden secrets, personal fantasies and other issues of life - at the expense of The Blogger, of course.

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This is beginning to sound like the sweet pleasure of reading someone else's mails and putting them back where you find them.

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I have no issues with bloggers who update their blogs like a daily timetable of their life, bloggers who cam-whore their pics online, bloggers who blog about other bloggers' blogs etc. I believe people are free to do what they want and write what they want.

I just find it mortifying that some irresponsible bloggers take advantage of this virtual space and post carthartic remarks of other individuals, party or events without the slightest regard of civility, human compassion and remorse.

Bloggers, I think, should really represent the voice of the world, because their mere words can actually incite a powerful demonstration of how some online individuals can be so influential as to change the world with only a few strokes of the keyboard.

Or they could simply be journals of the everyday man-in-the-street and allow us to take a closer look at the intricacies of their lives - and learnt to appreciate just how fortunate we are to even have the time and luxury of reading their lives like an open book without even buying it off the shelves.

I blog because in essence, I like to write and express random musings of the Everyday Experience.

Therein lies the parody of it all : so who's gonna read this article - and if so - am I targeting a specific audience to read them?
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Doesn't matter. I am writing to humour me. Myself. And the close people around me, of course.

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And maybe, just maybe - you. It's been a while since we got disconnected some time ago.