Project Hearts For A Roof

A school mate of mine has requested me to publicize her efforts to fund a humanitarian project of hers through the sale of wine. Do have a read and contact her if you are interested:

Project Hearts for a Roof Mongolia 2007

Poverty housing in Mongolia 44% of the Mongolian population live in gers which have inadequate water supply, heating and hygienic facilities. Mongolia suffers from bitter winters of up to -40 degree celsius and the gers are inadequate to withstand the cold. With substandard living conditions, overcrowded quarters promote ill health and it impairs the people’s hope and self-worth.

What do we want to accomplish? Working in partnership with a nonprofit organisation, Habitat for Humanity. We share in their vision to eliminate poverty housing one house at a time and to bring to the home owners, pride in being part of the building process.

Red Wine: Miranda Somerton Shiraz Cabernet Merlot 2005/ 750ml bottle at $25
White Wine: Crate No. 31 Semillon Chardonnay 2004 Yenda / 750ml bottle at $25
Twin Package: 1 Bottle of Red Wine & 1 Bottle of White Wine at $45

This is no ordinary bottle of wine In the midst of celebrating Valentine’s Day and the Lunar New Year, let us keep in our minds that the people of Mongolia are undergoing harsh winters at this time of the year. As part of our fund raising efforts, we are hoping to raise your alcohol levels over the holiday season. Each bottle of wine will be boxed up, ready to be presented as gifts.

1. Contact: Evelyn Yap • Email: ukyou_@hotmail.com • Mobile: 97929537
2. Cash payment upon delivery.
3. Delivery to a designated address ( Date and time to be informed accordingly )

The proceeds from our wine sales will be able to help a number of families cope better with the winter temperatures next year. Help us bring warmth and hope into their lives. To those, who have contributed their ideas and support towards our project, I can’t thank you enough. Here’s wishing all a romantic Valentine’s Day and a prosperous start to the Lunar New Year.

About Us

Team Strength: 24 building buddies
Duration: 30th May 2007 - 19th June 2007
Location: Ulaan Baatar, Capital city of Mongolia
Team Composition: Humanitarian aid workers, students, teachers, financial advisers, accountants and entrepreneurs. Basically 24 pro bono workers.
In collaboration with: Habitat for Humanity www.habitat.org
Main Email Address: mongoliaproject2007@yahoogroups.com

Series of Unfortunate Events

Shall we all hear about my horrid day then? Yesterday was a day I wish never happened. For all the events that came together and sculpted this disaster. It was almost a page out of Lemony Snicket's "A Series of Unfortunate Events".

Initially, if all plans went well, I should have been up at 830 am. The alarm got set for 815 so I could aim for a 9 am departure since it takes an hour and a half [train and bus] to get to campus. I was quite fired up about attending school this Tuesday. 2 tutorials I had already done [and aint it such a joy to attend class when you ACTUALLY did your work and are not aiming to copy the solutions from the board]. Only in uni do I feel such a need to exhibit smartness and diligence. Nowhere else. Nowhere else, was I ever the under performing repeat student.

The alarm went off alright. But I didn't wake to it. I got up at a round 12 noon. Unfortunate Event One. Still, knowing I had missed my two tutorials I was undeterred. I still had a tuition to aim for at 6 pm. Ok, the day is not all lost on the academic front. I say tuition but I am the tutee in this case. Taking tuition for a hopeless Year 1 subject I have yet to clear [even after the 6th time]. So, I pester the mum to brew me a cuppa. I say brew, but we all know it's just a pre-mixed 3 in 1 routine coupled with hot water. I rush to the bathroom, strip and lo and behold! There is no water!

Unfortunate Event Two. Yes, the water supply apparently got disrupted. For the whole day. Till they get around to "upgrading" the existing water pipes. Dust and metal shavings flying all around and no water. My mum of course had a pre-emptive measure of filling up a couple of pails with standby water, but one look at it and I knew it could never appease my shower requirements.

Then, my mum informs me of the bane of this gusty wind effect we have been experiencing this week in Singapore. The wind literally blasts and wails through cracks in your window and huffs and puffs and blows everything that's not securely tethered down. And one thing it blew away to oblivion was a bamboo pole of laundry. Apparently, the pole cracked in half and the remains got strewn all over the carpark. Thing is, the clothes were nowhere to be found after the realization set in. Someone had filched it. Best part is the fateful pole was carrying a coupla my boxers and berms. Unfortunate Event Three.

So, the tale continues. I finally just rinse and wash up at around 3 to leave for school. Then it dawns on me, that I'm broke. Unfortunate Event Four. Yes, amazing how something like this dawns on you only when you're done ironing your tee, dusting off your jeans and lacing your previously-white Nikes. With no other choice, and also because the EZLink card is down to negative value, I had to beg a few tenners off the mum. This is something I hate to do because it will inevitably invite a massive lecture cum dissertation on why I am in this poor financial state and it will inevitably be linked to spending money on cigs and alcohol.

Amazingly, I actually felt fresh and good and happy I was on the way to school. Top up aside, no other detours and I decided to flip through the classifieds on the train. It's interesting how everyone else just wants to know which classification you are training your eyes at. Like it would aid them in their quest for eternal bliss to know that you're flipping through house rental ads. I hate fuckers who stare at what you are doing on the train. You know that feeling, the feeling of being watched. Eyes boring holes into your soul feeling. Unfortunate Event Five.

The air con was good, the seat was comfy, there was no one to the left and right. And then I get these punctuations I call phone calls. Phone calls that just jolt you awake and pause your ITunes on your phone screaming to be attended to. Of course, the appearance of significant other's name on the badly scratched LCD is a welcome respite to the drudgery of the journey. But NOT the calafare [recently realized this is in fact a Cantonese term] who insist on wanting to be the "other" line. As if it's not enough that I have to handle brainless banter or job offers, it really irks me that there are a few hotspots or rather twillight zones along the North South line where reception is zero. What this means is that for politeness sake, I have to return the call. Outgoing minutes. Tick tock tick tock. Unfortunate Event Six.

School, now that in itself is an unfortunate event in my life. The need to attend it. But it is not included in the specifics for this tale. This addition one on top of the other of unfortunate events was going to be further compounded. Cos, that's when the drinking started.

Drinking you say? In school you say? Unfortunate Event Seven. Never leave an unconsumed bottle of alcohol simmer in the locker. It will only appeal to you on a day when you shouldn't be swayed by it's charms. And that day was on me. After doing a few shots on the rocks, economy set in and I decided to just mix it all up. Popped in to tuition and came out to chit chat with the boys. 2 exactly. And then, the night turned against me. All things bad, vile and evil are stirred up with the fumes of Chivas. To the boy I accosted at the lockers regarding some past feud, my apologies. To the nice people who thought 20 McNuggets will alleviate my hunger pangs, my thanks. And to the cleaner uncle who didn't bitch about the ash and butts on the floor, my humble gratitude.

Every horrid day usually ends with a culmination of all things horrid. This is when sense and sensibility gets thrown out of the window. This is when logic gets defied. This is when you've drunk enough to effectively lose control. There are angry drunks, hostile drunks, happy drunks, sleepy drunks and violent drunks. I am that drunk who opens his mouth and stops time. I am the drunk who fucks all happiness up no matter how much of it there is. I am the drunk who ebbs the flow of everything good around me. I am the stupidest, most childish, drunk fuck around. In certain other language usages you might be saying I am that proverbial cunt and a half.

Unfortunate Event Eight. Taking a perfectly peaceful [albeit buzzed on liquor] night, most suited for conversing with and sidling up to the girlfriend, and effectively butchering it beyond recognition. With no warning whatsoever and in so doing, vacuuming all joy and niceties out to replace it with unnecessary strife, hate and irritation. I have no excuse. It wasn't the first time. I've exhibited such insanity when at this state before. The limbs work, the mind still thinks but I am not the one doing the thinking. The mouth speaks yet the words are not mine. I did wrong. Very wrong.

The next other time I even contemplate hitting this level would be in a straitjacket in the confines of my own bedroom. Hands away from all communication devices and definitely not in direct contact with any other human who doesn't deserve shit hitting the fan. I think the only way to nip this without it escalating to me sitting at the footsteps of the gallows for some act committed under the influence, is to just stop imbibing the foul stuff. Sounds hilarious, but it's up to me to make it happen and I'll try to keep it to the best of my abilities. I'm depressed. I don't need to be an uncontrollable drunk fuck. It's something everyone can do without.

"Then said Jesus, Father, forgive them; for they know not what they do"
Luke 23:34



Quite a good website to explore, especially all those "Let me help you" guides for the various personality types.

As for me, I still need to do some explaining on why I am singled out as being DEEPLY depraved and perverted. Blocking the uppercut, roundhouse kick and her patented one-two backhand smash now, I'll be talking to you folks later.


Love, Justin

You might or might not have spotted this in The New Paper a few weeks back. An interesting ad. Not your everyday love letter. More of an explanatory passage. I could set a good O Level Comprehension with this resource.

And of course, our heart goes out to Justin and we hope Amanda finds her way back home quick enough. But, for pure alternative viewpoint's sake, re-read the entire letter assuming Amanda is his pet German Shepherd and it gives for a barrel of laughs.


Wireless @ SG

Free wireless through the country [selected areas], and they give you a free webcam for it? Auw.

Click HERE to see the Qmax and IDA tie-up that lands you a free Creative WebCam. Free gifts are all redeemed out for now and will re-start on 21st Feb, but still do go ahead and get your free account to surf free wireless internet.

Photo from Leion.

Random trivia: Unscrewing the lens and using tweezers to remove the red tinted plate of glass effectively turns your webcam into an infra red cam. Good to switch on for the whole night to see if there're any phantoms haunting your room.

No one can be accusatorial of their precious moochable Fat Green Pipe then.

As of Jan 2007, go HERE for already wireless@sg enabled sectors. Use their Google Earth files to view future planned area of coverage.

Unfortunately, my house in AMK is not within any of these planned sectors and NTU's own wireless is just shit. Again, if not for Mac Dees, we all are doomed.

If Michael Corleone had anything to say about this, it'd be "Just when I thought I was out [mooching], they pull me back in [to American capitalist outfits]."

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Aint someone's parents have foresight then?

Hurrah for the IRs. May I have many credit cards with obscene credit limits before they spring up.



I rile my mother up every single day. It is not unintentional [only when I want to pull off my holier than thou act], it is purely meditated. The conflict in question is seldom about dirty laundry, unclean room or vices [unlike most of you losers]. I rile my mum up using my youngest sibling.

Yes, the apple of everyone's eye. The brat who's never had to work towards a reward in exchange for good academics. Not that good academics really matters anymore these days. It did matter in the old days, when Transformers were still on our staple cartoon diet. Back in old skool, every parent beats up their child, smacks them about silly for the most mundane of reasons. One of the most mundane would be that they got lower marks than the average Joe [or John, depending on which alter ego is in play].

My mum too has evolved with times and has let go that lofty ideal that everyone is capable of As. In fact, she'd be happy if one can just sail through with mediocrity these days because some apparently mis informed losers happened to convince her so. We do accept mediocrity with open arms these days because we no longer subscribe to the fact that perfection is an attainable goal. I still say getting 100/100 in a Math paper is not an impossibility and the only barriers to it are pure laziness and lack of motivation in balancing out both sides of the equal sign.

Yet even after evolution, she still has this deep rooted desire for her children to hit the upper echelons of whatever sphere they are thrown in. In old skool terms; SAP or Independent school after PSLE, JC after the O Levels, a place in uni after the A Levels, SISPEC/OCS after BMT and a full time job with attached benefis after uni. Fair enough. You want the best. Yet, it is pretty perturbing when you come around one day and say, "Well, I don't think I want the best anymore, almost there is good enough. Cos, maybe some of youse just are not "that" inclined". Ah, I smell a dirty rat, commonly known as "educator cads". Some people have obviously been fuckin with her mind. Expectations are an Yindian woman's domain and may all be wary when they are lowered even for a split second.

Back to the riling. All I gotta do at any given time when the time on the wall clock has passed 3 pm is ask, "So where is he? What time did school end?". This translates to an almost carbon copy argument every single time.

Mum: He's got a handphone right? Call him la. Ask me for what.

Me: Don't want. Shouldn't you know? Anyhow, what time does school end today for him?

Mum: Call la. All of you are the same. Asking me for what? Summore you're the one who got him the phone right. No wonder he's missing. The number of girls in there, the number of smses he gets everyday, even at dawn and at the middle of the night.

Me: Ok what...

Mum: Ya ya ya. Easy for you to say, you where got give a damn? It's me that's worried.

Me: Worried. Call la.

Mum: I know where my son is ok? He's got extra lessons today.

Me: Are you sure he never ponteng and now sitting under the block opposite school trying his first cig? Are you sure he got even go school today? How would you know? I myself ponteng millions of times to go gallivanting before.

Mum: He's not like you ok? He's pretty well behaved.

Me: Is it..........?

See, the idea is, for me to win this rile-up competition, I have to prod her till she picks up the phone and calls. More times than not she doesn't. Because, she has already been dutifully informed of his movements. And then, sometimes, I do win. Like today.

Mum: Eh, where are you ah?

He: I'm at NYP.

Mum: Who the hell ask you to go there? Today school finished early right? It's already 5! Why aren't you at home?

He: I told you on Monday what that I going there on Thursday.

Mum: You think you're the only thing on my mind is it that I gotta remember your schedule. What the hell are you doing there?

He: It's their Open House today.

[ME in the background: See, see, fella has zero aspirations. He knows he's gonna fuck up his Os.]

Mum: I don't care. Get your ass back now! How dare you go roaming without even informing me? You got handphone for what? Call all the chicks up is it? Can't call your mum la!

He: Hokay *shrug*

I like winning. It gives me joy. Though I realize I need to use this innocent bloke as a pawn to win, I still relish it. Then again, when it was all over, I thought to myself: "What if it wasn't a Poly open house but RJC's? Would the woman still be erupting with brimstones over it? ". I think not. I have a vague idea where I get my double standards from.



Service Interrupted

I am going to make this as solemn and as sombre as I can. So I shall avoid the signature italicizing of bracketed words, those quips I make in the middle of sentences.

My mobile usage and patronage will henceforth be drastically altered. The same applies to my online presence. This is the skinny of it. I won't be entertaining any more social calls. It is not in my best and efficient interest to hear about your day, your office dilemma, IT issues, directions to someplace, queries on the entertainment scene and your latest squeeze / break up. In fact, it wastes precious time and I have issues with multi tasking.

I think it's safe to say gossip doesn't interest me anymore. I have my definite spheres and I think they suffice well enough to provide me with the companionship, bonds and general attention I require. Thus, pointless intersections don't appeal to me anymore, regardless of the fact that every Yindian in Singapore can be connected via only 2 degrees. If you have an interesting tale, you can still e-mail it on and I will review it for its merits.

My lines of communication will be only open to academic / business dealings and essential personnel. So, take heed and don't be astonished nor perturbed as to why I might have gone missing as far as you're concerned. I totally meant to.

I have also wizened up to the idea of making new friends everyday. I think whoever has lasted this long is good enough. I don't suppose I'm gonna find the friend-equivalent of a "soul mate" anymore cos I've already seen an abnormally large amount of people in my lifetime [of which I've lived only a third] and yes, I'm much more comfortable with Pri 4 dropouts taking their PSLE now, then all youse.

So, there, the official announcement. This announcement is as good as a verbal contract too if you so choose to hear it from me personally but your call isn't attended to.


Late Addition: I think my prof needs a new home, sending e-mails in the mid of the night and all, confined to his office and his plush armchair.

GUTS - is arriving home late after a night out with the guys, being met by your wife with a broom, and then asking her: "Are you still cleaning, or are you flying somewhere?"

BALLS - is coming home late after a night out with the guys, Smelling of perfume and beer, lipstick on your collar, slapping your wife on the butt and saying: "You're next." Yeeha!

I hope this clears up any confusion on the definitions. Medically speaking, there is no difference in the outcome since both ultimately result in death.


Oblique Oblongs

Ah, the fresh smell of school. Granted, it was one day last week [Thursday] and the only reason I ventured the distance from heartland utopia [AMK] to Jurassic jungle [Tuas] was only because we had failed to replenish our supply of black ink. I tell you Epsons are real ink eaters. Do not rely on this brand for economical print jobs. Ok, the truth is, double sided printing laserjets are one helluva cool invention and worth every penny of the cab ride to the "outerlands".

My affable give-me-a-tenner-and-a-shot-of-vodka Mac Dees employee was not around. I suspect he has left for a more tenable job offer. It's just not right when you AND your twin brother slave over Mac Dees counters, trays and kitchens while only standing at 1.4 metres tall. More so when you're already 23 years of age. I think they should have upped and left and trained as trapeze artists or something at some travelling circus. Still, all the best to them, wherever they are. I just have this funny feeling I'll bump into them at Planet Paradigm soon enough, doing "Goyang goyang tak goyang" to Tokyo Drift.

On the homefront, everyone is having sleepless nights. By everyone, I mean me and the youngest. I think we shall try sleeping in each other's beds for a change. Still, I find his too soft. He finds mine too hard. I have a blasting industrial fan. He has a rickety, ceiling, sorry excuse of a fan. I don't think I'd wanna exchange places just yet. For the first time in eternity, my pillow case, bedsheet, bolster case and blanket are all colour coordinated. Not from the same "design set" but still coordinated in different shades of blue. Hey, my bed headrest too. That does it, I'm staying put.

My mum has delved into clairvoyance. After countless cunts professing the ability to read the future through palm readings, horoscopes and dabbling in the supernatural; she has now turned to some French madame named Sara Freder to read into her Present and Past. I hope she hasn't wasted my $39.95 USD just to find out she was a prata shop owner in her past life and the reason why she isn't a millionaire now already is because Karma is preventing it due to all the times she watered down her gravy and "accidentally" put "previously met the floor" pratas on others' plates.

I've been getting calls, smses and MSNers about the Valentine Day flowers. If you're not visually impaired you might have noticed the newest addition to the sidebar. Have a another look if you were cock eyed the last time you came around here. Apologies to those that were misled initially, there is a small delivery charge. But too small to sweat your letters to the Forum Page over.

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I've been accused of many things over time. This recollection is only to aid my ailing memory [alcohol induced] and so that someone other than me can recall it all when the time comes to pen my top-selling biography [10% off alcohol card included].

All these incidents, some repressed, for fear of flying into a non-provoked rage [also fuelled by alcohol at times] are similar in that I have no idea I was guilty. In fact, I still maintain innocence in the face of baseless rules, regulations and regulatory bodies.

Primary 6

2 weeks before my PSLE prelims, I managed to nearly get myself expelled. It was the first time I had displayed some kinda extreme calm and composure when faced with impending doom. Also a prelude to my cardsharping days where if you know Aces beat Queens then you have no problems raising the stakes till all the others go bust cos no one wants to call you on it.

We was all carrying chairs up to our classrooms up in the 4th floor from the school hall cum tuckshop. Why they didn't want to use the Pri 1 chairs from the ground floor was a very debatable point at that time and evoked much ire. Still, while we was doing it, a boy who I've had zero altercations with for the past 2 years suddenly decided to go on a huge jokemeister routine interspersing most of his jokes with "black slaves", "black" and "horse". I think he got his inspiration from the fact that we were carrying the chairs up the stairs by resting the spine of the chair on our chests and with its 4 legs pointed in front of us. That these corny jokes were directed towards me, cos the only other Yindian was a mortal enemy [her and her butcher of a barber grandfather] of everyone including myself was a notable point.

I did what anyone should do when they get irritated. No, peaceful resolution is so not my style, even at 12 years old. I didn't say stop, I didn't say "Maybe you shouldn't say that", I pushed my way to the front of the pack, waited at the head of the stairs for abovementioned boy and then gave the base of his chair a thumping sole stamping leg thrust. When visually impaired, these kinda violent actions actually do aid in providing twice the amount of damage as opposed to you being prepared for the onslaught.

It was a Kodak Photo Moment, me smirking, he tumbling, forehead and chin gashing, 8 stitches a stitching, weak scared-of-blood girls crying.

I managed to survive this incident mainly because I thought to myself that I was too valuable a student for the school to lose me, aggressive ways or not. Thankfully, a few HODs thought the same too. Funnily though, I don't recall anyone being hauled to the princie's office when I got busted up by 8 Malay blokes back in Primary 2, hit by those rusting "Beyond Economic Repair" chairs stacked at the back of the tuckshop building. All this just cos one of them happened to spot me at the CC going through the motions of a Taekwondo lesson and wanted to see how much "martial art" I really could do.

The wrongful allegation? That was when I got my ass hauled in to see the Big Man. I've always been amused with the Big Man because his surname was "Sow". It perturbed me even at that age that anyone should be destined to go through life being referred to as Mr. Sow or Mr. Cow or Mr. Hog's Breath for all that it matters. My form teacher in explaining what had happened to Sow, demonstrated his knowledge of Chinese Kungfu to the extent of copying the Karate Kid's signature crane move. He literally leapt from one end of the room to the other, demo-ing the "flying kick" I had administered. I was quite sad that this man had chosen to relive his drama club days with this exaggeration, on my expense.


Me and stitched up Chinese boy become good pals, I laid hands on my first Sega Saturn at his place. I still see him around these days. Alas, he is a much fitter and leaner guy now, nothing like his big arsed fatso days.

The form teacher, got a beautifully inscribed "S" on the hood of his silver Nissan Sunny. He knew, I knew, the class of 6A knew, but who could prove it? Prior to the "S", I attempted stuffing a tennis ball into the exhaust pipe, but science and the laws of physics proved that it's highly impossible to make a car blow up in that way.

The Sow was quite alarmed that The New Paper wanted to run a feature on me and another bloke from AMK Primary cos of our gleaming PSLE grades. His only comment to the paper was "Shanker is quite vocal in school". Doesn't take a genius to figure out the real meaning.

This was my earliest recollection of a baseless [baseless exaggeration in this case] allegation. I for one am quite quick with apologies as long I remain convinced that I've been 100% responsible for said incident. There were others following this episode, I think I shall take my time to go through them in later posts. I am in an "analyze your psyche" mode these days.



Harvest the City

A very interesting piece by Balderdash on a visit to that very famous religious institution called City Harvest Church. Yes, multi million dollar, buses to all parts of Singapore and back one. The glory of Jurong West Extension.

Just passed it today. Renovations again I see.

Read about the experience, HERE.

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Katturai Woes

So, my brother gets sent to the front of his Tamil class. Not because he is the teacher's pet, not because the teacher is pretty anal about seating students according to height variations and definitely not because he is ace in that particular language. The reason was because he kinda stalled on a certain comprehension assignment for the past one month. It was a moment of pride for me as I never thought this squeaky clean boy who actually LIKES going to school would ever replay my childhood mischief.

In secondary school, my teachers were of course pretty hard up on this whole hand up your assignments on time boat. Thank god that unlike primary school days, we needn't do corrections [in green ink] and hand it up again for a look see. Still, when a certain piece of work gets overdue, a new one gets piled up anyway so as time went by, it was ok to skip 1-2 pieces of work because the teacher is only gonna flip to the most recent page and start marking from there.

Don't we all know the woes of teachers and their painful marking stints. Then again, by the looks of the kinda people who inhabit the hallowed halls of NIE, I say fuck it. Obi good. Hope your hand pain and sprain and your red ink run out in the middle of the night with no replacement to be found. Of course my heart goes out to the veteran souls who know what the business of education is all about and are much loved, cherished and respected in their various institutions.

Now, back to the sibling. He isn't one of those play punk and hope to get away with it blokes. He's a pretty fine student and a student leader at that too. That this was all achieved by keeping out of the predominantly Yindian cliques is a fact, not the exception. By his explanation, amidst a whole lotta swearing, cussing [mother] and impending violence [rest of us] back home [reactions grow ten fold when the teacher actually bothers to call up the house instead of just leaving a note in the workbook], this mad hatter of a Tamil tutor actually was blasting them with homework every single day. And 1 composition and 1 comprehension at that.

Now, upon hearing that, you should have been here to witness the deafening long drawn pregnant pause. Comprehensions were cool. Look at the question, find the same coupla words in the passage and lift the damn answer, you get the full marks. But what kinda insane education program would warrant a daily composition? That's about 2 hours of prep before you even spend an hour writing the damn thing which you'd not only get borderline marks in cos you rushed it, you couldn't even be arsed to remember what you wrote about. Not to mention the prevalent practice of having to squeeze in some "proverb", "saying", or "thirukkural" by the end of it all just to earn a minor tick and some extra credit.

Thus, my brother was duly forgiven and teacher thought a cuckoo. Lesson learnt? The next time some educator who has lost his/her marbles decides to "do the right thing" and work "responsibly and with dedication" calls up your home to bitch about someone, ask them to shut the fuck up and politely in the same language remind them who pays their salaries. No brother of mine needs to write an essay every single day just so he can ace the exams, unless his life long dream was to be a freelancing columnist for a tabloid spread.

In fact, do read Nal's woes on her own kid's homework pileup HERE. He on the other hand is only Primary 1 so you would appreciate the true way education has moved on these days. From inspired teaching to substance-less worksheets.



Trivia for Singles

Because I'm such a sucker for trivia and I think it's high time our English teachers bucked the fuck up by staying off the verb-adverb route and just giving us random pieces of information we could have used to show off to the chicks with.

Another random thought before you proceed: Why are there no singles bars in Singapore? Cos, even if a woman was single, she'd still convince her gay guy friend / fat girl friend to follow her [a solitary deer always gets annihilated by a pack of hyenas]?

Cos people these days are never comfortable all alone staring into blank space while nursing their one hour ago beer listening to Ricki Lake on the Ipod-docking station jukebox? Or is it just a Singaporean thing to do? Where everyone WANTS to get laid but no one actually wants to be associated with the idea?

And isn't that why singles bars were built anyway so you wouldn't need to be working someone for the past 3 hours and 45 lychee martinis, only to realize her husband is coming to pick her up in the next 10 minutes. Anyhow, I think this is a very untapped market. The "declare you are single and only drink here if you choose to revel in that status" bar.

I think I'd like to open up one of these. Call it "Slingers" or something that doesn't really reveal the real theme. But then technically, an owner of such an establishment would be directly / indirectly responsible for all the hook-ups [serious or one nighters] that will invariably take place. So, I'd be "technically" a pimp. Or am I? Anyhow, in the words of the esteemed wrestling superstar The Godfather [ex Kama and ex Papa Shango], "Pimpin aint' Pimpin aint' easy man!".

For other business enquiries, do give me a tinkle at the usual digits. Now was that Brit or Yankee?

1. The longest one-syllable word in the English language is "screeched."

2. "Dreamt" is the only English word that ends in the letters "mt"

3. Almonds are members of the peach family.

4. The symbol on the "pound" key (#) is called an octothorpe.

5. The dot over the letter 'i' is called a tittle.

6. Ingrown toenails are hereditary.

7. The word "set" has more definitions than any other word in the English language.

8. "Underground" is the only word in the English language that begins and ends with the letters "und."

9. There are only four words in the English language which end in "-dous": tremendous, horrendous, stupendous, and hazardous.

10. The longest word in the English language, according to the Oxford English Dictionary, is pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis.

11. The only other word with the same amount of letters is its plural: pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosesl.

12. The longest place-name still in use is Taumatawhakatangihangakoauauotamateaturipukakapikimaung ahoronukupokaiwe- nuakit natahu , a New Zealand hill.

13. Los Angeles's full name is "El Pueblo de Nuestra Senora la Reinade los Angeles de Porciuncula" and can be abbreviated to 3.63% of its size, L.A.

14. An ostrich's eye is bigger than its brain.

15. Tigers have striped skin, not just striped fur.

16. Alfred Hitchcock didn't have a belly button. It was eliminated when he was sewn up after surgery.

17. Telly Savalas and Louis Armstrong died on their birthdays.

18. Donald Duck's middle name is Fauntleroy.

19. The muzzle of a lion is like a fingerprint - no two lions have the same pattern of whiskers.

20. A pregnant goldfish is called a twit.

21. There is a seven-letter word in the English language that contains ten words without rearranging any of its letters, "therein": the,there, he, in, rein, her, here, ere, therein, herein.

22. Dueling is legal in Paraguay as long as both parties are registered blood donors.

23. A goldfish has a memory span of three seconds.

24. Cranberries are sorted for ripeness by bouncing them; a fully ripened cranberry can be dribbled like a basketball.

25. The letters KGB stand for Komitet Gosudarstvennoy Bezopasnosti

26. 'Stewardesses' is the longest English word that is typed with only the left hand.

27. The combination "ough" can be pronounced in nine different ways; the following sentence contains them all: "A rough-coated, dough-faced, thoughtful ploughman strode through the streets of Scarborough; after falling into a slough, he coughed and hiccoughed."

28. The only 15 letter word that can be spelled without repeating a letter is uncopyrightable.

29. Facetious and abstemious contain all the vowels in the correct order, as does arsenious, meaning "containing arsenic."

30. Emus and kangaroos cannot walk backwards, and are on the Australian seal for that reason.

31. Cats have over one hundred vocal sounds, while dogs only have about ten.

32. The word "Checkmate" in chess comes from the Persian phrase "Shah Mat," which means "the king is dead."

33. The reason firehouses have circular stairways is from the days of yore when the engines were pulled by horses. The horses were stabled on the ground floor and figured out how to walk up straight staircases.

34. It's impossible to sneeze with your eyes open. [You should however try holding them open with workbench clamps or what the optometrist uses and see if they DO pop out when you sneeze a la the famous urban legend]

And the real reason why I am blasting you with needless trivia is only because I am on a mission to do housekeeping on all of my 15 [known] e-mail accounts. This particular piece was of course from the "I see, I forward, You read, You forward" friendly NTU professor I have. Who else would be so interested in sharing 33 pieces of unnecessary information with all and sundry when he could have just stopped with the best 5 and still walked away looking like a genius?

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SB Annals: I

With luck and perserverance I hope to update this joint more often than I've had this past month or so. Over the next few days, I shall recount a few of the characters I met this time around. And Gurdeep and Ah Jie, you is not allowed to tell the blokes anything you read here! Read and be amused. Don't break the ancient law of Omerta.

You may recall the last time I had a school vacation, I presented the corporate style of a distinguished P-Man for all of youse. He did pop up briefly in recent times too. A situation that I didn't even have a hand in. An unforced error if you will.

L: You know that arsehole?

Me: Who? Just now the clown ah?

L: Yeah, you know I got so irritated? The way he speaks and puts things across and show that kinda fuck face totally reminds me of one person. I don't know if you know him. His name is P-Man.

Me: [spluttering] What??! P-Man? Know him? I know him inside out? Have you worked with him before? What was your experience like?

L: He's a Number One $@%*&%&(*&^(*()*^&%^$@^$##!@%^$#^ [now this was real nasty shit]

Me: Ah, well this is what I went through with him. [proceeded to summarize the entire P-Man annals into fifteen minutes, of course leaving out the minor ones and exaggerating the major incidents]

L: Damn, what is he up to these days?

Me: Sources tell me he is applying for early retirement. Took a course outside for coupla thousand, think he wants to set something up in the aviation industry.

L: Cannot survive la. So old, work style like that. Sure die one.

Me: Yeah, my deduction is he should just stay at home and clean the house or set up something but let his wife be his boss.

L: Yeah, maybe that can work out for him.

Me: Still, do we really give a fuck?

L: Nope.

Me: As I expected.



Eppy New Year

How did you celebrate your New Year? Good? Fantastic? Dead drunk? Slobber knockered out on your couch with a movie marathon? Sucking on your thumb while lamenting your lack of friends down by the corner of your room? Wishing your phone would ring? Blaming the lack of messages and phone calls on the traditional New Year mobile network jam?

What? There's no one left at home? Even your 50+ year old Mum and Dad had a party to attend and got plastered before getting back at 6 in the morning? You entertained yourself with dialling the 24 hr Mac Dees line and seeing how many different operators you could identify by voice? When that didn't get your grape enough, you called up the other 24 hour helplines? Acted like a suicidal teen? Someone wanting to get past a heroin addiction?

Some people though had a much more fulfilled turn of the year. Identified by their 2 dollar plastic pails and wails. Condolences to our friends up North who inadvertently got caught in a flash flood that was obviously meant for their politicians in the capital and not for humble Johor Bahru with their fantastic food, and booze and pirated VCD/DVDs.

Now for back here in the "fatherland". Yes, being led by a patriach and his subsequent heirs makes us a masculine country. A group of revellers managed to turn New Year's into the farce of a social event that it originally was meant to be. They blazed through the quay, igniting random punch ups and of course ending up at a joint where they thought they could get laid but couldn't find a cab home to savour the spoils.

I open the New Year's thus with a buncha photographs depicting the scene of the crime, captions and all. You have your chance to participate too, for if we can get indicted for stealing free wireless from fucking losers who just aren't bothered to read their manual, we damn well can get screwed for screwing around with other people's photographs. Those plug and play losers. Put your hands up. I would LOVE to send you blokes to court for invading my airspace with that nice pack of ta pau-ed smelly tofu back from the alleys of Geylang.

Part 1: The Recce

Quay looks dead. Nay, this is but the start of the journey.

Part 2: Awaiting the Alamo

V Man looks to the skies for heavenly approval on his dastardly act. Like all evil geniuses bent on taking over the world, he feels his "justification" is of course the true-est. Seen thru his Gucci shades or otherwise.

Inspired by random onlooker: KNN, his nostrils damn big sia! If your sitting down and he happens to come stand so his head is over yours, will be just like ID4, when the alien spaceships covered the sky. It's comingggggggggg! It's cominggggggggggg!

Part 3: The End of the Road

Project Mayhem is complete. For this shot however, I open it to the floor on your diverse and biased interpretations. Let's run a caption contest.

Best caption wins a Toblerone or a bank transfer of how much the chocos cost. Go wild at it. Leave it in the comments section not at the tagboard or it will be declared null and void.