Kiddy Kuips

You know I really don't have the time to be online when I resort to cut and pasting the crap my (ex) Dean sends my way. Will make an effort to pen down thoughts and recollect when I reach home after a fuckin tiring day. Usually once the fingers hit the keyboard, all inspiration is lost to the comfort of that double duvet-ed queen size mattress.

JACK (age 3) was watching his mum breast-feeding his new baby sister. After a while he asked: "Mum why have you got two? Is one for hot and one for cold milk?"

MELANIE (age 5) asked her Granny how old she was. Granny replied she was so old she didn't remember any more. Melanie said, "If you don't remember you must look in the back of your panties. Mine say five to six."

STEVEN (age 3) hugged and kissed his mum good night. "I love you so much that when you die I'm going to bury you outside my bedroom window."

BRITTANY (age 4) had an earache and wanted a pain killer. She tried in vain to take the lid off the bottle. Seeing her frustration, her mum explained it was a child-proof cap and she'd have to open it for her. Eyes wide with wonder, the little girl asked: "How does it know it's me?"

SUSAN (age 4) was drinking juice when she got the hiccups. "Please don't give me this juice again," she said, "It makes my teeth cough."

DJ (age 4) stepped onto the bathroom scale and asked: "How much do I cost?"

MARC (age 4) was engrossed in a young couple that were hugging and kissing in a restaurant. Without taking his eyes off them, he asked his dad: "Why is he whispering in her mouth?"

CLINTON (age 5) was in his bedroom looking worried. When his mum asked what was troubling him, he replied, "I don't know what'll happen with this bed when I get married. How will my wife fit in?"

JAMES (age 4) was listening to a Bible story. His dad read: "The man named Lot was warned to take his wife and flee out of the city but his wife looked back and was turned to salt." Concerned, James asked: "What happened to the flea?"

TAMMY (age 4) was with her mother when they met an elderly, rather wrinkled woman her mum knew. Tammy looked at her for a while and then asked, "Why doesn't your skin fit your face?"

"Dear Lord," the minister began, with arms extended toward heaven and a rapturous look on his up turned face. "Without you, we are but dust..." He would have continued but at that moment my very obedient daughter who was listening leaned over to me and asked quite audibly in her shrill little four year old girl voice, "Mum, what is butt dust?"


Liqour Labels

Found off the web.

Liquor manufacturers have accepted the Government's suggestion that the following warning labels be placed immediately on all varieties of alcohol containers:

WARNING: The consumption of alcohol may leave you wondering what the hell happened to your bra and panties.

WARNING: The consumption of alcohol may make you think you are whispering when you are not.

WARNING: The consumption of alcohol is a major factor in dancing like a retard.

WARNING: The consumption of alcohol may cause you to tell your friends over and over again that you love them.

WARNING: The consumption of alcohol may cause you to think you can sing.

WARNING: The consumption of alcohol may lead you to believe that ex-lovers are really dying for you to telephone them at four in the morning.

WARNING: The consumption of alcohol may make you think you can logically converse with members of the opposite sex without spitting.

WARNING: The consumption of alcohol may create the illusion that you are tougher, smarter, faster and better looking than most people.

WARNING: The consumption of alcohol may lead you to think people are laughing WITH you.

WARNING: The consumption of alcohol may cause pregnancy.

WARNING: The consumption of alcohol may lead you to believe you are invisible.

WARNING: The consumption of alcohol may make you think you have mystical Kung Fu powers, resulting in you getting your ass kicked.

WARNING: The consumption of alcohol may cause you to roll over in the morning and see something really scary.

WARNING: The crumsumpten of alcohol may Mack you tink you kan tpye reel gode [been here]


Traffic Woes

Ah, my favourite past time. Analyzing what makes civil servants think up the shit they do in the name of the "greater good" when eventually it's going to produce death. Let me explain. First, take note of junction in question on road map.

1 minute walk from the MRT and situated right beside the Ang Mo Kio South Neighbourhood Police Centre, possibly why all the changes in landscape occurred anyway.

So, originally this particular junction was the only method used for all and sundry who needed to get to the train station from my cluster of the blocks. I.e. everyone living on left and right of the street that branches from the main road of Avenue 3. Jaywalking was the norm. As you can see, even by map distance the nearest two overhead bridges were not really the "convenient" way to get to the other side of the road.

A pictorial representation. Red arrows are vehicular movement. Blue arrows are commuter movement. Now this was the way it was, for aeons and aeons till the NPC got built. Suddenly, it became a pride thing. How could people blatantly flout the law at the doorsteps of the Men In Blue? Unthinkable. Those sinners.

Thus, an effort got underway to deter jaywalkers. No, they didn't post a policeman on the sidewalk to effectively scare away potential jaywalkers. Now, that would have been too much of an effort. Poor dude. Did we really expect him to be standing there for more than 10 mins at a go in sweat drenched uniforms when the comfort of airconditioning, water cooler, pantry, television and plush chair was waiting for him twenty metres to the right?

So, here's what they did.

By putting those long green spiky fences on the center divider, jaywalkers now effectively had their walking space reduced by 95%. It was not an anomaly to see close to 15 people bunched up at the end of the divider waiting their turn to clear traffic. Do you see what happened? From a moderate traffic risk, the ingenuity of whoever instituted the change have brought it to a high risk traffic risk. The lesser the area to manouevre the more unsafe it became.

Still not satisfied because the jaywalking never stopped. It just got more confined. It was still a smear on the First Class Transportation Network we possessed in our bleached nation. So, construction crew were brought in and this was what they came up with.

Ah, traffic lights. It should solve everything. No it doesn't. With the old system, vehicles had an all clear path to the next traffic light. I.e. from junction of Ave 3/8 to junction of Ave 3/10. This was a good 500-600 metres of unfettered roads and speeds of 100-120 kmh were the norm. 20 odd years of living in these conditions have honed the jaywalkers' skills to a fine precise one. Just by sight we would know when we could make it and when we couldnt. Which car was speeding and which was a tortoise. It was not the pro-law practise, but it worked.

With the brand new lights installed. Cars now had a minor glitch to their path. An inconsiderate happening considering the road does have potential to jam during peak hours. Not helped by SBS buses cutting through 3 lanes near the end towards the new AMK Hub.

From two decades of zero accidents, even with unscrupulous jaywalking. We are only just counting down the days to the first major hit and run. Another problem seemingly solved by the men in charge, but creating a whole new other problem. Now you have instances of beating the red light, crossing indiscriminately with the false confidence that a traffic light will save your ass and generally impatient dudes waiting for the light to change. Where responsiblity initially lay in the hands of those who jaywalked, it has shifted to the two sets of traffic lights. Principle is, the moment you lay the responsibility of protecting your life to something/one else, mayhem is just waiting around the corner.

Moral of the story: If it aint broke, don't fix it. You might get back more than you're bargaining for.


Ah Kow's Pigs

I have a friend. Her name's Div. And she's a damn good read. An example in reference to rising minister's salaries:

THE STORY OF Ah Kow, the Singaporean FARMER

Ah-Kow was overseeing his herd of animals in the last family farm in Singapore when suddenly a brand-new BMW advanced out of a dust cloud towards him. The driver, a young man in a Brioni suit, Gucci shoes, Ray Ban sunglasses and YSL tie, leans out the window and asks the peasant, "If I tell you exactly how many sows and piglets you have in your herd, Will you give me a piglet?"

Ah-Kow looks at the man, obviously a yuppie, then looks at his peacefully grazing herd and calmly answers, "Sure, Why not?" The yuppie parks his car, whips out his Dell notebook computer, connects it to his RAZR V3 cell phone, and surfs to a NASA page on the Internet, where he calls up a GPS satellite to get an exact fix on his location which he then feeds to another NASA satellite that scans the area in an ultra-high-resolution photo.

The young man then opens the digital photo in Adobe Photoshop and exports it to an image processing facility in Hamburg, Germany. Within seconds, he receives an email on his Palm Pilot that the image has been processed and the data stored. He then accesses a MS-SQL database through an ODBC connected Excel spreadsheet with email on his Blackberry and, after a few minutes, receives a response.

Finally, he prints out a full-color, 150-page report on his hi-tech, miniaturized HP LaserJet printer and finally turns to the peasant and says, "You have exactly 986 pigs and piglets."

"That's right. Well, I guess you can take one of my piglets," says Ah-Kow. He watches the young man select one of the animals and looks on amused as the young man stuffs it into the trunk of his car.

Then Ah-Kow says to the young man, "Hey, if I can tell you exactly what your business is, will you give me back my piglet?" The young man thinks about it for a second and then says, "Okay, why not?"

"You're a MP for the PAP", says Ah-Kow. "Wow! That's correct," says the yuppie, "but how did you guess that?"

"No guessing required." answered the Ah-Kow, "You showed up here even though nobody called you; you want to get paid inspite of your million dollar salary for an answer I already knew, to a question I never asked.

You tried to show me how much smarter than me you are; and you don't know a thing about pigs...this is a herd of goats. Now give me back my dog."

And she unearths gems like these. Before this clip, I thought Dick Lee was some sissy who should have been bitch slapped after writing Fried Rice Paradise (nasi goreng very nice..over 40 varieties...come and eat...please please):

And at the same 30th anniversary concert, we have Hossan, Kumar and the portion prior to his Lee Kuan YOU melody.


Foolish Games

Blast from the past. A song we all sang to as the random MP3 playlist brought it to the fore. Some feeling more than the others. Rare, this air of somberness about us:

Always felt I was outside looking in on you
You were always the mysterious one with dark eyes and careless hair
You were fashionably sensitive, but too cool to care

Well in case you failed to notice, in case you failed to see
This is my heart bleeding before you,
this is me down on my knees
These foolish games are tearing me apart
Your thoughtless words are breaking my heart

You were always brilliant in the morning
Smoking your cigarettes and talking over coffee
Your philosophies on art, Baroque moved you
You loved Mozart and you'd speak of your loved ones
As I clumsily strummed my guitar

You'd teach me of honest things
Things that were daring, things that were clean
Things that knew what an honest dollar did mean
So I hid my soiled hands behind my back

Somewhere along the line I must've gone off track with you
Excuse me, think I've mistaken you for somebody else
Somebody who gave a damn, somebody more like myself

These foolish games are tearing me apart
You're tearing me, tearing me, tearing me apart
Your thoughtless words are breaking my heart
You're breaking my heart.


Exam Excellence

Sometimes sitting through the night at the newly christened "beach", an open terrace with benches at S3.2 garners much interesting gossip. And time and time again, with the open topic of exams comes the side dish of how to approach it. To be direct, I learnt my fair share of how to cheat, who cheats and what to cheat on and what you can just forget about even scribbling notes about since it won't help.

It is not a very hush hush secret that most undergraduates cheat. Bits of paper, scribblings on erasers and protactor covers and inner linings of pencil cases. No idea it was so prevalent. Perhaps I am naive in the ways of the "Dark Arts". God bless Severus Snape. He martyred Dumbledore though. On a side note, pre-order the next Harry Potter instalment through SingPost.

So, I was asked this question "You mean you've never cheated?!?!? No wonder la, you taking so long to get through school.". Ah, now it all makes sense. All that money wasted on photocopies and prints and staplers and clips and clear files and sticky thingies. Since I think I've enough information to last me a lifetime and yet won't put it to use because of some clearly unwarranted phobia, I think sharing this wealth is apt.

How to Cheat

1. Write formulae on your forearms and wear a long sleeved jacket into the paper. When in doubt, proceed to the toilet, scroll up and mentally photograph.

2. Write on bits of paper and invisibilize it within your calculator or pencil box. Retrieve with care during the paper. Cover with question paper and NOT answer booklet because it gets turned around more. If you fear this method, just be one of the first to get to your seat when the doors swing open and then hurriedly cut and paste from this bit to the back of your question paper. Technically, you haven't committed a crime yet.

3. Write on the portion of an eraser which is covered by it's cover. Use all 4 surfaces for maximum efficiency. Also, purchase an extra large eraser so you don't attempt to set the world record for minute handwriting and ease of sight during your exam.

4. Write on inner lining of your pencil case. Do up random words and lines to make it seem like you're one of those kinda psychos who get off by liquid papering Manchester United or Metallica to show you know how to spell the names of your favoured icons.

5. Write on bits of paper and put it in the pockets of your boxer shorts. Even if you suay-suay kena check and made to empty your pockets. No invigilator typically feels the need to check your boxers or briefs. Make sure paper type in use does not irritate your ass or provide much unneeded friction under your gonads.

And the winner is...

6. True story - Wear a snow cap, since winter fashion has long been the bane of university dressing. Strategically place an MP3 player with only 1 file in it playing on loop. Pre record this file with ALL the goddamn formulas in the world you might need. Plug it into your ears. Pull your snow cap over your ears. You the man.


Although everyone is on the bandwagon, do exercise precaution. No one likes a pretentious cheat or a disillusioned one who ends up spoiling the market.

1. When referring to folded bits of paper, usually full A4 sized ones in the cubicle, always flush before reaching for it. Sound of unfolding paper tends to resonate via ceramic tiled walls.

2. Have a nasty shit ready so no invigilator will be snooping around directly outside your door.

3. Time your visit to the toilet. Although you may not be using this person for your technique of information revelation, it may accidentally get you checked. If you are a minority, do NOT rise to go to the washroom just after another minority has returned from it. This has resulted in a full shake down of previously loved cubicle before. Observe the law of non-minority consecutivity.

4. Do not look shifty. If when you look around for the initial scoping of where the invigilators are standing, you catch one of their eyes, look extremely happy like you're on X or look extremely pained as in constipation. Do not scratch your head, look to God for answers or behave nonchalantly. This will inspire them to come to you.

5. Don't write more than you can cheat. The joy of finding out you are capable of being a full fledged uni cheat might compel you to write the entire syllabus down. Don't be daft. Like that might as well just carry in your binded notes with you right? Write only what is necessary. Don't go overboard.

Now, you have been educated. However, if like me, you still maintain stupid phobias and would rather not be shamed in front of 1500 of your peers in the 1 to a million chance of getting nabbed, just do the right thing: Help to catch a cheat. Do that, and you will be a hero and possibly need not write a single appeal letter for the rest of your stay in school.

Other worthwhile ventures are catching those bastards who don't put their pens down when the mike blares "Put your pens down". Start psychotically screaming and going at victim's throat with a sharpened 2B pencil. After connecting with jugular vein and relishing the fountain of haemoglobin that is erupting; collapse with the "What Have I Done" look plastered on your pasty face. This will earn you much brownie points as you are a person who cares about rules and regulations. You might even earn a call up into the ranks of the youth wing of the ruling party.



Tent Vs Kublai Khan

So, the girlfriend and me decided to get our meat fix at The Tent in Clarke Quay. Styled as a Mongolian BBQ Restaurant, we thought it would be mighty happening and a culinary experience. Very dissapointed with the event though. I shall explain.

If you are familiar with Seoul Garden-ish, eat what you choose to eat buffets, you will see that it is ultimately the same experience but you don't do the BBQ yourself. Just one round sans soup will set you back 22 bucks and unlimited soup, salad, meat servings will set you back 32 bucks. It also caters for vegetarians by offering a salad and veggie only BBQ option. You can get a glimpse of the menu on offer and a review HERE.

Run almost entirely by North Indians or look a likes and frequented mostly by white and Indian expatriates, there lay the problem with our dining experience.

I quote "Why is it that when these Yindians come to eat outside with their whole family, always something goes wrong? Why can't they eat like normal people, without a hitch, pay their bill and go?"

The motherfuckers who stare

I as a naive boy would of course just think it that people stare because they are smitten by good looks [the girlfriend's]. However, I think it just runs deep deep into Yindian DNA to stare at anyone who doesn't resemble their 65 year old mother who looks 80. Or their 40 yr old wife who looks 75. Or their sons or daughters who look like they would have graduated from MIT by age 6, soda bottle glasses and all. Perhaps, their glasses are actually the sub continent's take on the big ass Chanel ones that are flaunted in high wealth atmospheres.

So, these 3 Northies, couldn't tell if they were expats took the seat at the opposite corner to us. We sipping on some champagne, bucket of ice and all. They with icy stares. What is their issue, I don't know. Perhaps they were just curious as to why 2 Yindians in their mid twenties would be eating at a restaurant they felt was applicable only to their credit card limit. Or perhaps, they just wanted to know where she does her hair. Or perhaps they are just irritating pricks?

So, un-disguised [more out of ineptness than to be in your face] stares and shaking heads aside, one of these ladies actually decided to check it out for herself if HER vegetarian selection was indeed cooked in a staunch vegetarian fashion. Getting the manager to walk her through the entire cooking process and convinced that different stoves were used for non-veg and veg food, she sat down with an air of achievement. Now, seriously, if you are soo anal about how your food is cooked, then don't enter any establishment that smells of marinated BBQed meat you loser! Wouldn't you be right at home at Komala Vilas? Oh wait, Tekka isn't really a "dining experience" for you is it?

The People who should just stay home

Now, this be a rant only aimed at these losers who decided to occupy a table and a half next to us. See, if you are a group of 8, or gazillion, just tell the waiter at the door and they will seat you accordingly. Comprende? Don't walk in, choose your own table, split your group in half and then leave so little walking space you are going to intrude into MY personal space.

Did I mention, my champagne on ice was standing IN the walkway between the two tables? Of course, as any decent middle aged housewife would do, they would take care to ONLY use that particular walkway because the other one would entail brushing their over inflated butts onto their own food. It is indeed much more gratifying to them to see if they can go to and fro without smashing my bottle of booze. Fuck heads!

So, the family of 8 contains little children, oldies [the grandpop looked like Gemini Ganesan for his credit] and the "bill is on me" middle aged ones. Kids running around like they found water in a desert, crying cos their food is not at the table when they walk into the place and basically digging their own snot and ingesting it is not something I pay good money to view. Middle aged mum of course goes one better. I strongly feel that the way a kid cries, like the way a dog barks is very indicative of emotion. A cry that signals hunger and a cry that signals "I don't want to be here you mofo" is also quite distinctive.

This little piss ant of a girl starts bawling her stomach out and irritating the general peace. Her mum of course, looks at her and immediately assumes [I don't know why, could be a Yindian thing] that she is crying cos she is hungry. So, her response is, "Wait wait, it is not cooked yet. Just stand here and see how it's cooked!". The mum proceeds to do that since the cooking stove is see through glass panelled. Of course, the barely 3 feet in stature kid can't really by all laws of Newtonian physics manage to peek above the 4 foot wood panelling can she? Stupid dumbfuck!

The tale continues with one of the oldies, loading up her bowl with veggies and meat, as you should, and then instead of handing it to the chef to be BBQed the hell out of, she returns to her table to tuck in to her raw minced chicken. Without the alert waiter, because no one at her table would dare question the matriarch, she would have carried on with it. Stifling laughter, another commotion was brewing. Basically if you take up the all you can eat option, you are given a silver token which you place with the food you oughta cook and it gets returned to the table you are sitting at cos the number is on the token.

But of course, if you are THEM, a token is just a token and you would have no idea why they would want to introduce a silver metallic object into the equation. Confusion occurred with some prick using someone else's token. One that that prick didn't pay for. Waiter comes to clarify and middle aged bozo spends a good fifteen minutes explaining that he was not in the wrong and that he paid for the right amount of people.

Back to my question. Why the fuck can't these fuck heads just go out, eat, pay and go home? Is it really that hard? Must there always be an incident? A confusion? A commotion?

This rant is courtesy of many many years of coincidentally and unfortunately having to dine at the same places as Yindian expats.

Were you expecting a food review? My take is; to really experience a good buffet and see meat cooked in the old Mongol way and with less confusing sauces to add to your meat, proceed to Park Mall, Kublai Khan Mongolian BBQ Buffet. Beats The Tent hands down in every area. Especially since it is more a Jap tourist hot spot than an Yindian expatriate one.