B List Cantonese Style

I've always been in love with Shu Qi. I love her more when she speaks Cantonese.

Someone solve this conundrum, please.

Pay for my Airspace

This picture should say it all. A bit futuristic though. Chinook props on the gantry and the F15 which hasn't even arrived.

RIP Lo Hwei Yen

My deepest condolences to the family and loved ones of Lo Hwei Yen. Considerably our country's first victim to the ravages of world terrorism. She also happens to be Selven's cousin's wife for those who know of him.

Interestingly, of everyone who perished in the 9/11 disaster, were there even a few Singaporeans in the mix? I don't really remember the news on those statistics. Anyone?

Singapore Strikes

Something you would enjoy. Read it HERE.

Short Circuitz

I've always been a Saturday Night Live (SNL) kinda guy and I can watch a stand up comedy DVD transfixed like it's a brand new action flick. So, when I say, catch Nick Cannon's Short Circuitz on MTV, you should.

No one does parody like a young black dude who is another producer, actor, singer, rapper jack of all trades. Expect all popular black artistes and performers who have fan clubs dedicated to them to be on the chopping block.

Adieu.

Verbatim Don Juan

"Every woman is a mystery to be solved. But a woman hides nothing from a true lover. Her skin color can tell us how to proceed. A hue like the blush of a rose, pink and pale and she must be coaxed to open her petals with a warmth like the sun. And the pale and dappled skin of a redhead calls for the lust of a wave, crashing to the shore so that we may stir up what lies beneath and bring the foam and delight of love to the surface. Although there is no metaphor that truly describes making love to a woman, the closest is playing a rare musical instrument. I wonder does a Stradivarius violin feel the same rapture as the violinist when he coaxes a single perfect note from its heart? "

By seeing beyond what is visible to the eye. Now there are those, of course, who do not share my perceptions, it is true. When I say that all my woman are dazzling beauties, they object. The nose of this one is too large; the hips of another, they are too wide; perhaps the breasts of a third, they are too small. But I see these women for how they truly are... glorious, radiant, spectacular, and perfect... because I am not limited by my eyesight. Women react to me in the way they do, Don Octavio, because they sense that I search out the beauty that lies within until it overwhelms everything else. And then they cannot avoid their desire, to release that beauty and envelope me in it. So, to answer your question, I see as clear as day that this great edifice in which we find ourselves is your villa. It is your home and as for you, Don Octavio DeFlores, you are a great lover like myself, even though you may have lost your way and your accent. Shall I continue?

You want Don Juan de Marco, the world's greatest lover, to talk to you? What do you know of great love? Have you ever loved a woman until milk leaked from her as though she had just given birth to love itself, and now must feed it or burst? Have you ever tasted a woman until she believed that she could be satisfied only by consuming the tongue that had devoured her? Have you ever loved a woman so completely that the sound of your voice in her ear could cause her body to shudder and explode with such intense pleasure that only weeping could bring her full release?

There are only four questions of value in life, Don Octavio. What is sacred? Of what is the spirit made? What is worth living for, and what is worth dying for? The answer to each is the same: only love.

Paper Tigers

Rueben, it's a gem and I'm glad I finally framed it up. Thanks much. Actually it was framed like a month back, it spent a few months on my table, and I finally worked up the anti-laziness to collect it today.

"All counter-revolutionaries are paper tigers"

This poster shows the unity of Chinese military looking afar, while their feet rest on the carton like characters representing the western world. The original was an wood block print, one of many prolific propaganda produced during the Cultural Revolution.

And now we shop at Shanghai Tang.

Nite.

Bits and Pieces

Pardon me as I clean up my desktop. And schooled in the old adage that nothing should be thrown away unless it crumbles into dust first, I insist on posting all the old jpegs I found hanging around and of no use. I'd like them to be of no use to you too. I wanted to do some photoblog thingy but my ego prevents me from posting anything that doesn't have some filigree gold leafed prose of mine attached to it. Hence, photos with captions or paragraphs which may or may not enhance the original montage.

Not in chronological order:

1. 4bia movie ticket x 1

As you might note, it was for a Thai horror flick at GV in PS at 2340H. Problem was after reaching the damn cinema at 2335H and sitting through 15 mins of commercials, the movie was never watched. I had never seen someone agree with me that quickly.

Me: Eh, why still haven't start ah?
She: Wait la wait.
Me: I tell you what, I'm gonna count to 3 and then I'm gonna up and leave. Fuck this movie. I can't be bothered to wait for it to begin.
She: Then what shall we do?
Me: Duh! Drink la.
She: On. Let's go.

And then we drank, and then we did a whole lotta other stuff. But the key point was that she agreed with me in 3 seconds flat. And yeah the whole lotta other stuff was good too (in case I am being read).

2. St. Pat's clover face tattoo

Twas January if I am not wrong. And me and Darren and Nigel and Nal (though it wasn't really a great night for her, damn SAF fuckers and their long long bitchfits), were savouring the Irish tradition of the dark liquid and declaring that there were no snakes in Ireland to that little Leprechaun who so happened to be sitting at our table too. He was muttering something about rainbows, but the only one we knew was the shop that sold goldfish and luo han in Serangoon North so he kinda left in disgust after a while.

And then there was Wendy. Wendy who made Darren come up with the "All girls who have a tattoo (tribal especially) on their lower backs HAVE to have had waitressing experience at least once in their lives. It had to be a pre-requisite." And it was definitely not my fault nor my doing that Wendy happened to put up in Ang Mo Kio too. A bit of sake, shabu shabu and sukiyaki one Wednesday evening later, this clover tattoo lost its significance on us.

3. Admission ticket to the Anime Festival Asia 08.

Having been very fired up about attending an Anime Fest, I gamely paid for Darren's ticket too in order to open his mind's eye to that world that I get ridiculed so much for just because I take an active interest in it.

In the end, I fucking hated it! WTF was going on? This was the first expo I attended and I wasn't even tempted to purchase a single thing. Not even a cheesy keychain which I am very famous for. I own so many bric-a-brac keychains and lack the keys to slide them into. I just don't know how to describe the event further. I think Darren summed it up quite succintly in this one question: "Eh, you decided to come see this thing to feel younger is it?"

Nuff said.

4. Screenshot off the La Senza webbie


Apparently, the newest La Senza creations are, wait don't flip, PussyCat Dolls lingerie. What has the world come to? And the best part is, it isn't even designed by any of those washboard tummied girls. The design stems from their manager! Robin Antin, the creator and manager of the PCD! Do I really need to go on about this? I guessed as much.

5. A weblink: "Enough with the Poking, Let's Just have Sex" Facebook Group.



I forgot I had bookmarked it to blog it like way back when policemen wore shorts (They still wear shorts though, when they're having PT training and the likes).

An extract from the main page, with minor edits because people can get longwinded when they have an audience of 402,354 as of 1700H today.

THE TEN COMMANDMENTS OF POKING

I) Never poke someone you dont know and haven't spoken to, simply because you find them attractive. Stop being obvious and gross/stalker-y.

II) Don't poke anyone you don't want to have sex with. You'd just be an asshole giving them the wrong message. If you "just want to say hello", then IM them or comment on their profile etc, and actually say hello.

III) Don't return any pokes to the person who poked you if you dont find them attractive. You'll just be leading them on. It's not cool to break unnecessary hearts.

IV) Straight men don't poke other men. It is never appropriate. End of story.

V) DONT OVER-POKE! If you're poking more out of routine than to display real affections, you're poking too much. Limiting the frequency with which you poke helps retain the value of a single poke.

VI) If your poking is becoming too frequent, you need to have sex already. Once you've been poking back and forth for a few days, it becomes time to take the poking from the internet to the bedroom...or shower, kitchen, main lounge, attic, museum, airplane, fast-food restaurant bathroom, Chuck-E-Cheese's ball-pit, etc.

VII) Be careful when you decide to hide your pokes. Hiding a poke is the same thing as a rejection, and you don't want to send the wrong message to someone you might be interested in. If you are attracted to a person but don't want to be bothered with constantly poking back and forth, just leave the poke up there, it doesn't bite.

VIII) Poke wars are retarded (see #6). The process of poking isn't fun. You're just clicking a friggin' button. The sex that comes afterwards is the fun part. Two people competing over who "gets poked last" or who "pokes the other the most" or whatever is the most ridiculous concept I've ever heard. It's like two people sitting across from each other saying "I want to have sex" back and forth but with neither of them actually doing anything. They poked you, you poked them. Now stop the poking, and go have sex.

IX) If you like being an elusive, hard-to-get poke, don't give it up too soon! Sometimes, witholding that poke for a few days can intensify the relationship. Or, if you like subtly letting others know you're angry, take a long time to return their pokes, or hide their pokes altogether. Internet poking is as mental, as real poking is physical.

X) The last, but certainly not the least important Commandment: PRACTICING SAFER POKING.

It was already stated in the First Commandment that it's wrong to poke those you dont know that you only have physical attractions for, however, creeps are out there, and it happens nonetheless. DON'T POKE PEOPLE YOU DONT KNOW. You never know who that mysterious person poking you is. You never know who they've poked, or even if they were safe pokers themselves. Unsafe poking can lead to stalker-esque relationships, both in and out of Facebook. And you never know who might give you a virus (be it spyware or herpes). Neither of us want that. Two ways to poke safer are: to completely abstain from poking (this is the only 100% safe, religiously appropriate way), and to only poke people you know. Also, putting up sexy, cute, or marginally attractive profile pictures that non-friends can see might lead to unwanted poking. Be wary...and slutty/hoish at your own risk. I recommend neutral profile pictures of puppies, flowers, or famous athletes. Doing anything else might attract attention and end disasterously!

Adieu!

How they fucked us and made us monkeys

Last night I was clinking glasses with another one who had mighty insights into life. By mighty insights I mean, the ability to convert real life factual events and figures into analogies that can be understood by the layman. Something I have to resort to doing day in day out so that the severity or seriousness of mandatory tasks is impressed upon one and all.

And thus his story starts:

You wanna know in simple terms how Merill Lynch, Fannie Mae, Freddie Mac and all the clowns who got a federal bailout managed to fuck us and make a monkey out of us. Later after this I will tell you what I want to do after seeing how easy it is.


The first story is about this man, let's call him John. So, John got to know a model who wouldn't give him the time of the day let alone let him within a metre of her back zip. Now, John who really wanted to fuck abovementioned model (hamburger not included), said "Ok, follow me to Orchard Road where everything is as expensive as can be and I will buy you anything you desire". The model, as some of them are, was overjoyed and promptly hand in hand followed John down to the shopping belt.

They popped into this high end boutique where she was mesmerized by a tote bag. The price tag read $60,000. She raised her eyebrows, he nodded. Checking the bag out at the cashier, John was asked by the employee "Sir, cash or card?". John said "Let me write you a cheque for this $60,000.". She went "Sir, it is Saturday evening now, there is no way for me to verify with the bank if this cheque will clear. And if I let you have the bag and the cheque bounces, then my manager will bounce ME out of this joint and I'll be 60K poorer". So, John counters with "Ok, I tell you what. I write you the cheque. You bank it in on Monday to see if it clears and when it does you give me a call and I'll come down to pick up the bag. Is this good for everyone?". The cashier nodded and the model had been nodding since 15 mins ago so no issue with her.

On Monday, John receives a call from the cashier. It wasn't as friendly as the way she had received him in the store. "Eh, John ah! Your cheque bounce lei! I had this funny feeling about you and I was right! So how you going to pay for the bag this time? Card or cash?".

To which John replied "It's ok. You can keep the bag. I fucked her already."

Now, the second story. Once there were 2 white men who chanced upon a deserted island on their travels. This island was filled with monkeys running haywire. There were only some indigenous natives on said island and they were governed by the village chief. So, the 2 white men approached the village chief who was more interested in adding hash to his pipe than what they were talking about and gave him a proposal.


"Chief, we are very interested in purchasing the monkeys on your island because there is demand for them back in our homeland. Can you sell them?"

"How much do you want to buy one for?"

"We'll pay you 10 dollars a monkey."

"Hmmmm"

After 30 seconds of pondering, because that was how long it took before the opium had to be refilled (the chief had big lungs), he agreed and sent out his men to capture every monkey they could find. In the end, there were 1000 monkeys and the white men duly paid him 10 bucks a monkey and left.

6 months later, one of the white men returns alone and seeks an audience with the chief.

"Chief, my partner and I are doing good business with the monkeys. But, now we need more. How many do you have?"

"White Man, I only have about 30 to 40 monkeys left."

"That isn't enough. I'll need at least hundreds to be profitable. Ok, I tell you what. I am not on very good terms with my partner anyway. Why don't I take some of the old monkeys from his stock and sell it to you for 40 bucks each. Then, later you can sell it back to him for 55 bucks and cut me 5 bucks commission per monkey. In this way, we both make money and I can rip him off too and split from this company. What say you?"

The chief pondered for another 30 seconds and agreed to his proposal. I mean, how could you not trust a man who wanted to make you money? So, the white man brought 500 monkeys and sold it off at 40 bucks a pop and promised to return with his partner in a week to buy the same monkeys back in an elaborate con job attempt.

The white man never returned. The chief gained a new title: "Chief Fucking Stupid Monkey".




Now can you comprehend what just happened to the US economy?

Stevie Me

If Jonathan watched this clip, he'd swear to God, he experiences Stephen the mad Irishman each day in me. As for me, "it's my island". From 02:00 onwards, concentrate.

Adieu!

The Credit Addict

Can you even achieve this?


Impossible right.

Only me baby, only me.

What's new? What credit crunch? I run an overdraft like it's my day job baby. Booyakasha.

Cao

"I'd rather betray the world than let the world betray me."
Cao Cao

Lazy but Fair

Being so proud of having an opinion on everything big or small. Of course, being more proud for reacting big to small things and having a small opinion on big things, it came of course as utter irony that I was described as laissez faire the day before yesterday. [it's audit season]

Maybe it was the technical recession that brought back faint memories of the Great Depression ultimately brought about by laissez faire capitalism.


Laissez Faire: the practice or doctrine of noninterference in the affairs of others, esp. with reference to individual conduct or freedom of action.

Non-interference? Me? I rest my case. I interfere where even interference is not required dude.

I think it all stemmed from my daily "wazzup bro?".

Adieu!

Wish my Fly

It's that time of year where people apparently send cards out to whomever they ought to be lighting on fire, i mean celebrating deepavalli with.

When will people realize that this card business is meaningless? It has no roots, no traditions a la someone's Christmas Card list. Now, that is a fuckin list! Because it stands the test of time I figure. Ask yourself, truly. Do you really send Deepavalli greeting cards to the same people each year? Or only to the ones who will scowl the next time you see them at weddings and funerals and the friends who are at the top of your minds that year?

Also, how come the abbreviation for FAMILY is FLY?

A typically worded card that reaches my household:

"Wishing XXXXXX XXXXXX & FLY a Happy Deepavalli!"

My dad is grateful that you thought of him enough to invest in that 22 cent stamp. However, his crotch or button-fly Levi's for that matter need not celebrate this festival as exuberantly as he does.

It's just 3 letters more. It aint grounds for an abbreviation. Even the word "abbreviation" doesn't have an abbreviation you lazy pricks.


Have a good Festival of Lights. Light your smokes. Light your bongs. Set your enemies alight.

Adieu!

Arai Na?

Women are the same the world over.

She: I'm back at the club we used to go every night.
Me: That's nice, have fun.
She: There's this guy, he's following me around all night.
Me: So, what you gonna do?
She: He wants my number.
Me: And?
She: I said I have a boyfriend.
Me: Good for you.
She: But he's the Boss of this place, he still wants my number.
Me: I think I am going out to club now and the first pretty girl I see, I will ask her to follow me home.

[silence for the next 2 hours]

She: I didn't give my number.

[I'm silent for the next 2 days]

She: My heart is broken. But it still beats on. [pardon the poetic hollywood script. non native speakers are like that]

Me: Good. Now how?
She: I miss you.
Me: Good answer.


Adieu!

Bullshit

My humble apologies for not updating. I thought of penning something on the 16th to mark a 1 month anniversary for being too lazy to boot up but as usual I missed that deadline too. I'm currently busy with many many stuff:

1. Watching people try and accomplish in a few weeks what they should have been doing through the last year. [Cue: Audit time]

2. Watching Obama beat up "I got my wig all wrong" McCain. And watching Palin insist Russia is her neighbour and thus she WOULD have been the best woman to avert the Cold War. [Cue: Gorbachev pissing in Alaskan fishing waters and feeding cyanide to some moose]

3. Wondering how anyone could ever not love a country where they put actual lime fruits into the urinals so even your piss smells sweet. [Cue: Long Live The King, The Royal Monarch of Thailand]

4. Wondering what to do with my 3/4 full Absolut. No mixer in sight also. [Cue: Drunken sex]

5. Thinking how brilliant people are to promise me a gift for my birthday and then wait till I get out of town for 2 weeks and hope that I forget. That's fuckin like pledging 300 million when Katrina hit and then the world realizes only 300,000 was ever transferred in cold hard cash from gahmen to gahmen.

Adieu!

Bastardized Illness

Why you shouldn't talk about your medical status over beer:

Someone: Hey, where you at?
AR: Bro, I on 2 week MC man.
Someone: How come man!
AR: Slipdisc.
Someone: Oh!

After the gossip had made the rounds round the tables.

Me: Eh, where's AR? Don't think he'd miss this party though?
Someone Else: You don't know ah, He 2 week MC.
Me: Oh how come?
Someone Else: Syphilis bro.
Me: SERIOUS boh?
Someone Else: See see he just walked in, haha. speak of the devil. by the way, do you think his crotch looks swollen?
Me: ...

The Annual Medical

We people in aviation have this need to clear an annual full medical. Even though, car accidents number 100 times more than aircraft crashes in any given year, we allow old fogeys to either hog the road / signal right and turn left / drive with their nose to the windshield because apparently they will always be medically fit to handle a 4 wheeler.

But, rules are rules and since mine was about to lapse, I did the unthinkable. Booked it on my off day. Me and my penchant for unrecorded OT.

All the stations were fine except when I got to the ENT doctor. After doing her usual checks and all, she does the mandatory, "Say ah......". So I do. What she commented on, gave me the answer to questions I've been fielding myself and invisible beings around me for years. The answer to why I don't chug down my beer instead preferring to civilly gulp it instead. And why, I can't wolf down food preferring instead to chew them with me molars before letting them pass. She went:


"Do you snore a lot?"
"No. why? Perhaps a little la, I've had people say"
"Your throat passage is quite small, very tight. When you sleep, I suggest you sleep on your side so that you don't end up snoring"
"Ah, but that's good news aint it?"
"Why?"
"No one can ever accuse me of deep throating and sucking off my boss. It would be physically impossible"
"Somehow I agree."
"Thanks Doc. You the bomb"
"I am?"
"Yeah, except you shouldn't paint your lips purple when you're wearing a purple power suit. Overkill."
"Point taken"


Small throats, large apples.

Just Me

This be the tribute to the man who has supplied me with quotes, laughter and general "big up" high 5s the whole week long.

When trying to chat up a girl he ALREADY knows for quite a while and eventually freaking the hell outa her:

"First we can be friends la, later we see how..."

When putting on a silicone cover for his camera phone, he manages to flip it the wrong side round, making the hole in the cover not aligned with the camera lens. This has been the case for a couple of months since he first got the cover. When finally corrected he goes:

"I always knew there was something wrong with it la..."

When the market ball handicap for Man U versus the Pool later tonight was only level, this die hard Liverpudlian places a bet with someone who actually knows his gambling:

"Ok la.. I'll take Liverpool and give you 1.5 balls."
"On. What's the bet?"
"1 carton of bourbon"
"On."

15 minutes later after getting the expert advice of people who DO know their gambling, he goes back to bettor in question:

"We'll double confirm this 15 mins before the game starts"
"No way."

Adieu!

Join Media Cock

I know a lot of you aspire to act. Perhaps just a temp pass into Caldecott Hill would suffice so you can go steal Dawn Yeoh's undies. But don't say I don't have the good stuff for you. Go for the casting call.

Click HERE.

Adieu!

Air Force Open House 08

It all culminated with a huge piss up [not full participation due to high levels of fatigue] and me heading out to catch the Liverpool Game [they drew with Villa] with a new found friend.

The Open House [henceforth referred to as OH] was 4 days straight for us. 2 internal and 2 external. It was horrid in terms of working on weekends and psycho-ing ourselves that it was just another weekday.

But I love carnivals. Heck, I could live in a carnival all year round just walking the fairgrounds, playing the rides, collecting souvenirs and acting tour guide to the noobs. Unfortunately, no nation in the world can support a year round carnival. Even Brazil. Even Ibiza.

Some snapshots from OH, stolen off Flickr. I stole so many I just didn't have the time to like note down the owners. To youse, you have my sincere apologies. But what is the Internet, but a legal way to commit petty intellectual theft now and then? These are all glamour shots taken with probably high end DSLRs. Talkin about pictures, it's such a bitch taking photos with other people's cameras. Takes ages to come to you, they put it up in FB and it becomes THEIR album and you're just a spectatorial "tag". The demerits are endless. So, if you have an old digital camera you wanna garage sale off, it's my birthday this weekend; you'd better just donate it to me. All nicely gift wrapped with a card saying how much you love me of course.

Foreign workers having a blast.

Even they have a camera. Nabei I don't have. However, we were expecting throngs of our foreign nationals on Sunday but the response was subdued.

Little Miss Photographer. She hot.

The final segment of the air show.

First F16 breaking formation to come in to land. Overall, to us who work with these blokes day in day out, the airshow wasn't something so exciting. But you know the general public.. who think "work in airforce ah? pilot ah?". Yeah, these people got some of their grey matter rumbled out of position with the loud exhaust and jet fuel induced "high", so they definitely went "ooooooh and aaaaaaaah".

There were joyrides and all.

C130, Chinook, Fokker 50 and Piper Warrior. This be the estate of Punggol taken from the back of a C130 by a joyrider. Some of my blokes got the chance to ride it too. I politely declined. I've got two 6 hour flights on this mean machine comin up this month. Not something to relish. Always fly commercial. They got bloody stewardesses for starters!

The monsoon, or whatever bastardized El Nino or La Nina wreaked havoc all 4 days. Rain was so passe once you had spent more than an hour out there. Dark clouds coming up to wolf the sun down over here.

The boy needs a haircut.

Shades are mandatory. As I explained to a dude who recently joined our ranks: "The difference between the air force and anybody else is that we not only strive to do a good job like all of them, we have this inherent need to look good while doing it".

Why do I type with so much text in italicized brackets? That's cos I always have something to say, and half way thru typing I still want to interject myself and say something more. Character trait. Deal with it.

The Birthday Clock - 4 Days

It is 4 days to my birthday. As I masquerade as an unloved child, lots of presents are appreciated. Do contact me for the appropriate mailing address, my waist/chest/bum/shoe sizes or POSB bank account numbers so you can do the necessary and spread the pre-recession cheers around.

Believe it or not, cake's from Angie The Choice.

Again, BUY ME PRESENT! I WANT! 6th September. Put it in your mobile's calendar and sync it with your PC lest technology makes you forget.

If you're on FB, you ought to click this: THIS.

Define Political Party

I got an interesting story for you. The WP is considered a political party. PAP is not. East Coast Park is supposedly a public place. But West Coast Park isn't.

I'm not wrong. I have proof.

Taken from the MHA website regarding "Oral Answer to Parliamentary Question on the reasons for the rejection of a police permit to hold the Workers’ Party 50th Anniversary Cycling Event on 9 September 2007 at the East Coast Park".

We have Ho Peng Kee spewing:

Mr Speaker Sir, the reason why political parties are not allowed to organise outdoor activities has been explained in Parliament before.

Police does not allow political parties to organise outdoor gatherings because such activities have the potential for public disorder and mischief, and may disrupt community life. Police's requirement is that such party activities be held indoors or within stadiums, so that any law and order problems would be contained. This policy applies to all political parties.

The Workers’ Party had applied to the Police to organise a mass cycling event to celebrate the party’s 50th anniversary at the East Coast Park. The East Coast Park is a recreational park for Singaporeans and their families. It is not meant to be used by a political party to promote its cause. Apart from displacing the usual recreational users of East Coast Park, it is an open area where there is greater potential for a breach of the peace, public disorder and unruly behaviour. As I have explained, Police takes a more cautious approach towards outdoor activities organized by political parties. In line with this approach, Police rejected Workers’ Party’s application.

The Workers’ Party may wish to consider organising its celebrations at an indoor venue or in a sports stadium.

Did you happen to catch the front page of LHL on his bicycle pegged with 2 national flags with the headline: "PAP Carnival at West Coast Park"? Sylvia, I think it's time you raised this up in the next parliament sitting. Unless somewhere along the way, ST's editors decided printing "PAP" or "Gahmen" can be interchangeable since they are one and the same.

We learn new things everyday.

All animals are equal, but some animals are more equal than others - Squealer

Now all you PAPis sing along while riding pillion on your modded out white washed BMXes:

PAPi PAPi, PAP chulo!
PAPi, PAPi, PAPi veng a mi!

But Nicole Scherzinger went one better on Daddy Yankee's track with:

You are the king of my heart
And that was just
So don't you ever go far
PAP-i Lover
There is no other like you
No other lover than you
So doesn't mean what you do
PAP-i Lover

Buena Suerte.

Postscript: Much thanks to The Online Citizen and The Singapore Daily for picking this up from me.

Outram Commando

You gotta love Stomp because of classics like this one. Say hello or better still, salute and then knock it down 20 for him when you come across this wannabe at Outram MRT station.

Baris Sediaaa!

Kiss Me Fuck Me

You know those chicks, the ones who THINK they're hard to get, and project it so. And then, in the process of knowing them, they often come up with big time requests for favours. Thing is, someone must have brought them aside in Pri 3 behind the tuckshop to instruct them exactly how to ask for something, someone doesn't have or doesn't have the authority to pull off without breaking a few million laws and legal statutes along the way.

Like asking a pauper for a diamond ring. Or asking a cop to NOT write a ticket and switching on his siren while giving you a lift from Palais Renaissance down to The Excelsior. You get what I mean.

When asked by one of these women for a potentially career killing favour:

She: How about it? Off the record?
Me: Usually I like to get kissed before I get fucked.

Adieu!

40 years of the RSAF

You gotta give it to the gahmen boys. They know the right agencies to place their millions with to come up with one of the best ad campaigns I've seen ever. The military has an advantage over other products when advertising their greatness. This is because when you fall back on ideals and values like courage, patriotism, loyalty and basically an arsenal full of firepower to shoot the hell outa your enemies of the state, you touch something inside the casual viewer. Tug at the heart strings if you will. You conjure up this illusion that that viewer owes a great deal of faith and gratitude to the men and women in uniform and also quite subtly place the viewer in a state of mind where he can imagine himself as the said soldier.

All in a day's work.

Google if you need more. I'm just very impressed. By the artwork, by the ad itself and the minds it took to figure out that give "air" some "force" and it becomes "wind". Brilliant. Actual TV commercial is on YouTube. Shot entirely in Melbourne. It features solid ass CGI and scenery. Each frame of it went through 3 hours of post production. Or so the ad agency reports.

However, for some critique, how come there is no ad specifically for our vocation, where labour is sorely needed. I see WSO(FTR), AOSS, Senior Tech up there. I'm sure a pilot one is forthcoming sooner or later. I mean whether you got enough pilots or not, you still have to come up with a cool ass poster for them. Like, duh? Still, is this major recruitment exercise only for these 3 groups of workers? If so, reality check, kthx.

Submitted for your comments, please.

Your obedient soldier.
Feng of Feng Yun.

For The Harley Man

Proudly sponsored by a Harley enthusiast, the story of inventor meets God.

The inventor of the Harley-Davidson motorcycle, Arthur Davidson , died and went to heaven.
At the gates, St. Peter told Arthur. 'Since you've been such a good man and your motorcycles have changed the world, your reward is, you can hang out with anyone you want to in heaven.'
Arthur thought about it for a minute and then said, ' I want to hang out with God.'

St. Peter took Arthur to the Throne Room, and introduced him to God. God recognized Arthur and commented, 'Okay, so you were the one who invented the Harley-Davidson motorcycle? ' Arthur said, 'Yeah, that's me...' God commented: 'Well, what's the big deal in inventing something that's pretty unstable, makes noise and pollution and can't run without a road?'

Arthur was a bit embarrassed, but finally spoke, 'Excuse me, but aren't you the inventor of woman?'
God said, 'Ah, yes.'

'Well,' said Arthur, 'professional to professional, you have some major design flaws in your invention !

1. There's too much inconsistency in the front-end suspension
2. It chatters constantly at high speeds
3. Most rear ends are too soft and wobble about too much
4. The intake is placed way too close to the exhaust
5. The maintenance costs are outrageous

'Hmmmmm, you may have some good points there,' replied God, 'hold on.'
God went to his Celestial supercomputer, typed in a few words and waited for the results..
The computer printed out a slip of paper and God read it.

'Well, it may be true that my invention is flawed,' God said to Arthur, 'but according to these numbers, more men are riding my invention than yours'.

Pwned.

Brave Inheritance

Twas at Tanjong Pagar in a musty pub where we were the kings and we were the minions that I realized there were actually unspoken unwritten ethos some of us live by. For me, it was one of those defining moments.

After a round of "Johnny Drama" drowning Chivas shots like he was going through reverse osmosis, the 21 game drew to a silent close [what none of you realized was that I never lost a single round on that game]. You know how it is, random shuffling of the deck but no one is inclined to play cos the next person who gets a shot is gonna hurl it across the room together with the evening's laksa.

I just dealt Sinjon a hand and myself another. Both cards were open. Just for fuck's sake. But the forfeit in this case was not a shot of liquor but rather a very diluted mixed solution. Fair and square.

His cards:



And mine:

Quite fucked up cards to get if you ask me especially if the aim is to play to 21 and not go bust. But however, it was a game where the forfeit didn't matter. I mean no one was really going to LOSE by swigging a mouthful of diluted alcohol+mixer.

So, I ask him: "Want another one?"
He goes: "No."
I say: "Come on..there's only 2 of us"
He still goes: "I'm fine"

So, I draw. And I get a "2". And I win it.

Why would you not take a chance when the stakes are so low? Why would you be cautious when you don't lose a thing? Is there a need to stick by a fail-safe system just because this is the way you operate? I don't answer for my buddy but just a thought that it all stemmed from there.

Only the brave will inherit the world.

The unspoken ethos.

I kinda like it though. Rolls of the tongue well.

Blessed are the meek,
for they shall inherit the earth.
Matthew 5:5

I am so not cut out to be a Christian or any other denomination of that faith.

Bon Soir.

Wall E

I wanna catch Wall E when it opens here. Reason being, it's a damn robot. Animating already living things are like just taking your photograph and cartoonizing it using PhotoShop. Example: Ice Age. But, animate non-living things and you can just go wild. That's cos there are no limits are there. You aren't limited by existing stereotypes like a tiger should be striped orange and black and the wrinkles on an elephant's butt should be angularly concentric around the anus. Example: Toy Story.

Which is why I guess I dig robot cartoons. Futurama and Transformers anyone?

Basically, the Wall-E [Wally] story goes something like this. He (It) is a garbage collecting robot. He falls in love with Eve, a recon robot sent to see if Earth [by now decimated by the tons of rubbish that covers it knee deep] is still sustainable for human live. He finds a living plant, shows it to her, she hibernates. Fella blur la now, like "why you being so cold bitch?". But like all good love stories, he protects her from the elements in the hope that one day she will "fucking wake up her idea".

One day, a space ship comes to get her. Inside there are the last living remnants of mankind. Partying like it's still 1969 and Beyonce and Britney weren't born yet la these mofos. So, Wall-E hitches a ride when they scoop up Eve cos of the true love that endures in that kinda metallic bonding. They don't call it a sea of electrons for nothing.

In the end, the on board computer cock up. So, those people who could return to earth are prevented from doing so due to one of many Windows XP cock ups [expected]. Then got a big time mutiny la. Wall-E macam Achilles of the Trojan war all with some lil metallic minions following suit. If they had a 14 footer lorry kitted with "mee siam" frills and bull's horns on the bonnet they would have.

Regardless, it's a good flick. I like. I gonna watch.

Bye bye.

Right your Wrongs

I'm trying to right my wrongs,
But it's funny how these same wrongs
Helped me come along so long.

Carrying Balls

I met a 50 year old guy recently. Funny thing was he looked just 5 years older than me, making him sweet 16 I suppose. He was the type of guy who could run an entire night by just talking without stopping. And he wasn't one of those you were gonna shove a Corona's bottle down the throat to shut him up either.

[Talking about jobs and occupations]

He: Me? I'm unemployed. Looking for a job la. But for my education I can only carry things. Even be a waiter also sad. Always need to carry the tray and plates and all. Need to carry the customers' balls all. I how la to carry balls? I already got problem carrying my own 2 balls that's why I wear underwear to help me. I how la to carry other fellas' balls all? Tell me.


I only recovered a full ten minutes later. Then I took an extra ten to wipe off the beer that had snorted through my nostrils and dripped onto my own crotch. Thereby reminding me of what had transpired and I went into a ten minute relapse again.

Buenos Noches.

Bi-Directionalism

When you're directing a cabbie [no pun intended, you], what do you say to him when you want to indicate a turn at a junction?

Something to the tune of:

"Turn right and go straight"

OR [if you was me. you can't be, but trying is all the rage I hear]

"Turn left uncle and go up all the way to XXXX"

Just wondering why and what the roots were to me constantly linking the direction "left" with "up" and "right" with "down". Not to mention that I've met cabbies who instinctively link it the reverse way. I.e. Right goes with up and Left goes with down.

OK. Right-Side-Up.

A 3rd group of people I've met or noticed rather, in fact link it purely geographically. That is, when they give directions, they already have a bird's eye view of the map of the location in question and then say "up" or "down" according to cardinal directions. That would be North-South to those of youse who still think Cardinal has something to do with the Pope.

A typical conversation with me and a member of the 3rd group on an often traversed trip from Ang Mo Kio to Paya Lebar:

Me: Ok, junction turn right and go down all the way.
Cabbie: Ok, turn right and up all the way.
Me: Huh? Down la.
Cabbie: Paya Lebar is "up" what.

Which is when it hits me that to him, AMK to Paya Lebar is actually an overall North Easterly trip. Whereas, to me, left is up and right is down. This has to go into the X-Files. There might be a sinister military application to these perspectives too. Have a think about it.

Although I don't quite condone this phrase: "Go straight all the way". A lot of lampposts and permanent fixtures would be in your way. Do turn the steering slightly left and right to suit the curvature of the road.

Random dark (dick) humour:




Adieu.

Snippets from the 31st

My bedside is a mess. Ok, I just woke but it will still be a mess when I'm out of the house later at 11 and since I don't sleep on my own bed 4 times a week [no, this is not sexual innuendo dammit], the mess begets a mess.

Before I start, you is may spread the word now. That I truly am back. Spinning words from the loom, rhyming with the old a-a-b-b and basically abusing my keyboard all over again. The mouse is such a lazy tool. And oh, anyone who doesn't know what alt+tab or win key+d do can seriously stop talking to me. You are the cursed children of the technological age. The ones who just consume and never think about where it all comes from.

So, I see this mess of papers. The Straits Times of course, I can't really afford to keep the AWSJ, BT, NYT or any other high level publication of linguistic perfection on subscription. Hell, even keeping my SIM card on subscription is like scaling K2. Again, for ease of convenience, I have placed Wikipedia, dictionary.com and thesaurus.com on the right sidebar. As a matter of fact, running some of my pages through an automated program have actually revealed that I write at a level much much lower than most editions of the Tintin series. And we all know he had a very cute dog. Bet you don't know the name. This also means I am not one who is highly likely to get to the million dollar question in "Are you smarter than a 5th grader". What I could win is "Moment of Truth" because I never lie, just like that.

Some people do political commentary, some do entertainment commentary and some just review what they like to review and then try to make a big joke outa it. I just read the papers and tell you what my warped mind read between the lines. Because it's the least I owe myself after the 81 hours i slave away.

ST, July 31, Page 6

1. DOCTOR 'NOT QUALIFIED TO DO SODOMY CHECK

The doctor who examined the piss ant accusing Anwar Bum-war of sodomy was apparently NOT qualified to do so. I would understand why this would be a big problem. I mean, if I was pissing through my anus because my carrot cake uncle figured snot was a good addition to the massive tons of lard he already pours in, I couldn't possibly get a fair assessment from my GP. I should visit a proctologist.

And my proctologist [man skilled in the art of examining your anus and all the way up to the start of your rectum, more useful for the detection of cancer though] would have peered up my nether region and said, "Hmmm.. you do not look like you've been sodomized. I think you have diarrhoea relating to food poisoning. Here are some apples so the worms come out to feed. Have 2 a day and call me when you're close to death."

My proctologist would have used a proctoscope to possibly do an anoscopy in the case of the famous-by-posterior Saiful Azlan. And he would have peered and sniffed and poked his KY-ed finger in and decided: 'P/R (Per rectal examination): No active bleeding, no ulcer or pus seen, no injury shown, no tear seen.' Which is exactly what the attending doctor, Dr Mohamed Osman did.


So, now you know. What you see and what you can sign off for or endorse are not one and the same. The next time you need to check on a sodomy [if you end up being the Chief of Police or Home Minister one day], be sure also to see if the interior sphincter is broken or badly abused. A sure sign of forced sodomy.

ST, July 31, Page H3

2. HOUGANG RESIDENTS KEEPING ME ON MY TOES: LOW TO SM GOH

On this piece of splendid journalism [ok, I was clearly at a loss of what to do when the commercials came on in the middle of Dirty Sexy Money], only 1 key paragraph really jumped at me. Although, somehow reading the piece again indicated that actually it probably was placed there as a last resort cos the flow didn't seem to gel.

He (Low) also said he was disappointed with the way the Government had moved to tear down nine blocks of flats in Hougang. He stressed he was not against development but was dismayed the residents would be moving to different parts of the island.

Are you even reading what I'm seeing here? Regardless that it is taken out of context? A blatant removal of a dissident population is what it is. Moved to regions where the supportive majority overpowers their vote and voice and may (not) over time subtly influence their sub conscience to root for the incumbents.

So, we [speaking in the first person here] tried and tried to move the vote. To conquer the land where political rallies are held more in Teochew and Hokkien than in English or any other national language. We couldn't. So now we just shift them out. Simple ain't it. I wonder which Harvard born and bred magna cum laude graduate thought this one up. He thoroughly deserves his Performance Bonus. Hoo-Hah!

Is it also a wonder that these 9 blocks ensconce a wet market place that is the focal point for all WP walkabouts, like minded residents and basic communal 'gotong royong' spirit?

ST, July 31, Page H8-9

3. NOTICE OF EXHUMATION OF GRAVES AT KWONG HOU SUA TEOCHEW CEMETERY

This one was one of those razzmatazz notices you simply flip fast through unless it really concerns your physical well being. Most of the time the notices we flip off are those announcing apologies, shareholders' issues and basic government bureaucratic processess.

Well it would be something really non significant if it wasn't the start of the Chinese 7th Month that week. The hungry ghouls, the getai [yeah baby!], the auctions, the ashes, the big burn ups, the non participants with their marshmallows on satay sticks at the big bonfires. You know the deal.


So here you go, 2000 odd graves being exhumed, some to be properly incinerated and ashes kept in urns [if anyone claims them after this advertisement] and the unclaimed ones will be kept by LTA for 3 years till they are washed out at sea [how kind]. My fear was this: Weren't we all raised since young, from the Boogie Man under your beds [for those whose parents went to Harvard] and "Karang Guni gonna catch you!"[for those whose parents went to a government primary school learning English and Malay and apparently anti-rag-and-bone-men] and of course the bigoted "Bang-Kar-Li gonna take you go!" [for those whose parents could only muster 3 syllables]; that NO ONE IN THEIR RIGHT MIND DISTURBS A GRAVE! NOT DURING THE 7TH MONTH ESPECIALLY!

Am I the only one who watched all those old school chinese ghost flicks, where the dude who disturbs the grave of a spirit who ALREADY is pre disposed to roaming the plains, dies a horrible death? And now, we're releasing 2000 over spirits to go out, feast, drink, gamble, partake in some old school opera and then come back to find they got no place to rest their head? Disaster in the making. I'd be mighty pissed if I came home after a drunken soirée and my mum had donated my bed to a nomadic cousin.

I'm just hoping all those incense and hell money I have slaved over the fire for year by year is gonna help out when someone [the 'thing' was once a person] walks up to me and goes "Boo". I think I shall say "Tweese!" and see what comes out of it all. Whoever said ghosts didn't have a sense of humour?

Capisce?

Someone Knows

What if you're made to answer for another's incompetency?

You say: "There are only two possible explanations: either no one told me, or no one knows"

Classes struggle, some classes triumph, others are eliminated. Such is history; such is the history of civilization for thousands of years. - Chairman Mao

Time and Space

It pisses me off really when I tell people where I work and I get "Wah, good good. Iron rice bowl. You should stay there all the way. I wish I worked there". Well seriously, do you even believe your own bullshit?

This is not the 1980s no more. I should know better don't you think, I was born during the 80s. Back then, policemen wore shorts. Not because, there was lack of finance to sew the rest of their pants on but because they didn't really have to worry about hairless legs, upskirt(pants) camera potshots, Aedes and Chikungunya and all other factors that ensure men generally DO wear their pants long. This is unless you are from an all boys' school and wearing your short shorts like berms is in fact the encouraged practice all the way to the day you graduate.

I've been doing alternate day duties for the past 2 months and this is gonna last till the end of this month. I've put off a long deserved 1 week of leave [the take 5 days and get 9 days off in typical 'me' fashion] because of someone else's lack of competency.

A typical weekday shift runs from 1 pm to 8 am [19 hours] the next morning where I get to leave on my needed day off. Getting to leave and pushing off on inertia to actually leave are 2 different things. I'm lucky if I actually feel like leaving before 11. The abundance of "homework" [why I quit school for] has all to do with my inertia. [on a tangent: hameniiiiiiiii inertia in a day?] A weekend shift runs from 8 am to 8 am [24 hours].

So, if I do the 1,3,5,7 routine. I work 19 x 3 + 24 = 81 hours that week.
the 2,4,6 routine lands me 19 x 2 + 24 = 62 hours. Sounds 20 hours less but the shitty part about doing a Saturday duty is that essentially your Friday nights and Sat nights are fucked. And when you get home on a Sunday, all there is to do is sleep in and wait for the entire cycle to kick in come Monday.

I vaguely remember that the entire civil service was gearing towards a "more family time", "no more Saturdays" work week. In fact, I found the particular directive in paper recently. So clear. In bold text and Times New Roman font no less. 45 hour work week spread over 5 working days.

Now I may not have aced my integration or calculus for that matter, but I'd think simple logic and mental sums would indicate that I shouldn't be undergoing this shit for the same fuck all pay. Add to that, the manipulation of this same system into these simple words, "1 day work, 1 day off". Ah, sounds like such a thrill to be in this shift doesn't it? At the end of the day, this is what people use to either brush it under the carpet, convince themselves or convince their pathetic social life that all is good cos I'm "1 day work, 1 day off".

I'm a simple guy with simple pleasures. Pay me more or I'm fucking off. And I seriously couldn't give an emotional fuck about the tatters that will remain once 1 able bodied soul leaves the fray. Simply put, I am not paid to think of all this. More professionally, this consideration and the decision that follows is not within my pay grade, please refer to my superior officer.

Ciao.

Strength

That which hurts you makes me stronger.
That which does not destroy me makes me stronger.

Chief Marine Scientist Expounds

I have to humbly apologize to the millions and millions of... well of germs, bacterium and virii who actually do keep tab on this page [big up to you dudes who actually survive on the algae caked screen of my laptop].

I must admit, I've been a bad father. There has been no love from me. I just upped and left like it was my god given right to. But then I always have something(one) to blame. Nothing's my fault. Ever. Really. Don't believe ask me.

I've been very preoccupied with this strange phenomenon they call work. It's not like I haven't been afflicted by this particular disease before. I've rode this bandwagon since 13. But never have I put in 81 solid hours and more [inadvertent overtime due to pure inertia] at an organization which professes a 42 or 45 hour work week massing over just 5 days. The common fool will exclaim "shiok what! 1 day work. 1 day off!". Yes, it is actually, if I actually left for home in time. There seem to be a lot of other distractions these days. The homework if you will.

This homework syndrome is so prevalent in this nation. Have you ever grown an ant nest for a science project or just saw an ant nest and decided not to smash it cos it was cool to see them scurry for safety [very un-Zen and un-Buddhist of me]? People actually grow ant nests in glass tanks so you can see how the ants cut cool tunnels and storage chambers for the food they beg off tables at their local S-11. Every few days, ant colony keepers [their choice of pet smacks of parental abuse and a troubled childhood] will shake the box its in to make the tunnels cave in. This is to prevent the ants from escaping as they are constantly rebuilding something or the other. Hark! Is this like how, LTA, PUB, M1, Starhub and Singapore Power dig the same stretch of road one after the other. I dig, I repair. You dig, you repair. And "this is the song that never ends".

I poured a jug of water on an ant nest once. Sand turns to mud. Tunnels become torrents of sludge. The ants are simply smothered. For a scientific perspective on why the ants below the surface can't escape, see: Pressure, Bernoulli's Principle, Viscosity, Animal Genocide.

This homework I alluded to earlier is simply this: Asphyxiation. See, you can be trained in a specialization. You can be damn fucking great at it. And the only thing you ever wish for is to go in day after day to do exactly what you're fucking good at. Your specialty. And then the homework piles up in bureaucratic tandem. How quaint. That people actually think there's a real need to write down what you need to do and then go do it and go write down some stuff summore on how you could have done it better and then send this stuff to another dude who writes his stuff and consolidates it and sends it to one dude who apparently has to approve all this [of course he too writes more stuff].

Some dudes actually love homework [cos they suck in their real jobs listed on their employment contracts]. I think it's cos gagging on a 7 inch boner is just the way they like it. These people can be stereotyped as 25 yr olds who plaster their entire workspace wall with teddy bear wallpaper.

Then again, I'm just bitching. You know me. I bitch a lot. Even if I love you, I'd bitch about you. It keeps me sane. Release. Emancipation. You don't hold on to shit much after you bitch. It dissipates. Dissolves into the atmosphere where it rises and one day clumps together and becomes space trash that's gonna crash the next expedition to Mars. I burn tobacco up in the kilos every day. I hope it increases my carbon footprint. My folks always hoped I'd make a big mark on this place before I get jailed for a major white collar crime.

Apart from sending out many many mass e-mails [some of my smarter colleagues have learnt how to use "rules" to divert all my mail to their spam folder] regarding the status updates of the existing Fish Tank Club [FTC] projects, I am proud to announce that the vehicle I utilize to heal me psychologically has evolved into the pride of the nation. 17 rainbow tetras, 1 albino cory, 5 discus, 1 Sri Lankan guppy, assorted planted greeny stuffs and the dreams, aspirations and souls of the dearly departed 14 guppies we managed to kill in over a few hours on a cold July night.



All photos HERE.

Salutations,
Your Chief Marine Scientist