Of Implants and Viagra

In the beginning, God created the Heavens and the Earth and populated the Earth with broccoli, cauliflower and spinach, green and yellow and red vegetables of all kinds, so Man and Woman would live long and healthy lives.

Then using God's great gifts, Satan created Ben and Jerry's Ice Cream and Krispy Crème Donuts.And Satan said, 'You want chocolate with that'? And Man said, 'Yes! Then Woman said, 'And as long as you're at it, add some sprinkles'. And they gained 10 pounds. And Satan smiled.

Then God created healthful yogurt so Woman might keep the figure that Man found so fair. And Satan brought forth white flour from the wheat, and sugar from the cane and combined them. And Woman went from size 6 to size14.

So God said,'Try my fresh green salad. And Satan presented Thousand-Island Dressing, buttery croutons and garlic toast on the side. And Man and Woman unfastened their belts following the repast.

God then said, 'I have sent you heart healthy vegetables and olive oil in which to cook them.' And Satan brought forth deep fried fish and chicken-fried steak so big it needed its own platter. And Man gained more weight and his cholesterol went through the roof.

God then created a light, fluffy white cake, named it 'Angel Food Cake', and said, 'It is good'. Satan then created chocolate cake and named it 'Devil's Food'.

God then brought forth running shoes so that His children might lose those extra pounds. And Satan gave cable TV with a remote control so Man would not have to toil changing the channels.And Man and Woman laughed and cried before the flickering blue light and gained pounds.

Then God brought forth the potato, naturally low in fat and brimming with nutrition. And Satan peeled off the healthful skin and sliced the starchy center into chips and deep-fried them. And Man gained pounds.

God then gave lean beef so that Man might consume fewer calories and still satisfy his appetite. And Satan created McDonald's and its 99-cent double cheeseburger.Then said,'You want fries with that'? And Man replied, 'Yes....and super size them'! And Satan said,'It is good'.

And Man went into cardiac arrest. God sighed and created quadruple bypass surgery. Then Satan created Healthcare Management Orgs.


Thought for the day:

There is more money being spent on breast implants and Viagra today than on Alzheimer's research.

This means that by 2040, there should be a large elderly population with perky boobs and huge erections, and absolutely no recollection of what to do with them.

Link Treats:

1. Buy me a watch from HERE

2. If you need good sound effects for audiophilia, get it HERE. MystiKal take note, another resource for our side-projek.

Shift Happens

If you are:

1. Raising a small child [Nal]

2. Studying in a tertiary institution in a specialized course [Most of us]

3. Just need to be brought down to earth [Rest of the civilized world]

You have to sit through this. It's 7 ++ mins long but it's worth it.

1st Round KO

NEW YORK - Idaho resident Kathy Evans brought humiliation to her friends and family Tuesday when she set a new standard for stupidity with her appearance on the popular TV show, "Who Wants To Be A Millionaire."

It seems that Evans, a 32-year-old wife and mother of two, got stuck on the first question, and proceeded to make what fans of the show are dubbing "the absolute worst use of lifelines ever."

After being introduced to the show's host Meredith Vieira, Evans assured her that she was ready to play, whereupon she was posed with an extremely easy $100 question. The question was:

"Which of the following is the largest?"

A) A Peanut
B) An Elephant
C) The Moon
D) Hey, who you calling large?

Immediately Mrs. Evans was struck with an all consuming panic as she realized that this was a question to which she did not readily know the answer.

"Hmm, oh boy, that's a toughie," said Evans, as Vieira did her level best to hide her disbelief and disgust. "I mean, I'm sure I've heard of some of these things before, but I have no idea how large they would be."

Evans made the decision to use the first of her three lifelines, the 50/50. Answers A and D were removed, leaving her to decide which was bigger, an elephant or the moon. However, faced with an incredibly easy question, Evans still remained unsure.

"Oh! It removed the two I was leaning towards!" exclaimed Evans. "Darn. I think I better phone a friend."

Using the second of her two lifelines on the first question, Mrs. Evans asked to be connected with her friend Betsy, who is an office assistant.

"Hi Betsy! How are you? This is Kathy! I'm on TV!" said Evans, wasting the first seven seconds of her call. "Ok, I got an important question. Which of the following is the largest? B, an elephant, or C, the moon. 15 seconds hun."

Betsy quickly replied that the answer was C, the moon. Evans proceeded to argue with her friend for the remaining ten seconds.

"Come on Betsy, are you sure?" said Evans. "How sure are you? Puh, that can't be it."

To everyone's astonishment, the moronic Evans declined to take her friend's advice and pick 'The Moon.'

"I just don't know if I can trust Betsy. She's not all that bright. So I think I'd like to ask the audience," said Evans.

Asked to vote on the correct answer, the audience returned 98% in favor of answer C, 'The Moon.' Having used up all her lifelines, Evans then made the dumbest choice of her life.

"Wow, seems like everybody is against what I'm thinking," said the too-stupid-to-live Evans. "But you know, sometimes you just got to go with your gut. So, let's see. For which is larger, an elephant or the moon, I'm going to have to go with B, an elephant. Final answer."


Evans sat before the dumbfounded audience, the only one waiting with bated breath, and was told that she was wrong, and that the answer was in fact, C, 'The Moon.'

And these same citizens of America get to vote the leader of the foremost superpower of the modern world and in so doing affect the lives and livelihoods of many other nations who depend on them for trade, protection and alliances.

Adieu!

No Overtime

I come from an organization where overtime is not paid time. You do overtime on your own account and tons of people do. At least 10 hours a week they stay longer then they have to just to clear their workload. I've never had to stay beyond the stipulated knock off time because I don't see the point. If these people stayed back cos their workload was humungous they should have just reflected that up to their boss. If they stayed back cos they just work slow during the normal hours while still maintaining their 1/2 hour breakfast and tea breaks and 1 hour lunch break; I thought "OBI GOOD".

I once had a superior who also saw things my way. He looked down on those who did overtime because it just pointed to one disability or the other in the way they do their work. He said

"I also used to be like them. Then I thought to myself, KNN how come the others go home on time and not me? They so much better than me meh? Cannot be what, I'm better than most of them. So, I tweaked the way I work and never feared leaving work to be done tomorrow. Really cannot do today what you want me to to do? Work for free ah?"

Here's an excerpt by Narayana Murthy of Infosys Technologies during a mentor session at a big IT firm in India:

I know people who work 12 hours a day, six days a week, or more. Some people do so because of a work emergency where the long hours are only temporary. Other people I know have put in these hours for years. I do not know if they are working all these hours, but I do know they are in the office this long. Others put in long office hours because they are addicted to the workplace.

Whatever the reason for putting in overtime, working long hours over the long term is harmful to the person and to the organization. There are things managers can do to change this for everyone's benefit. Being in the office long hours, over long periods of time, makes way for potential errors.

My colleagues who are in the office long hours frequently make mistakes caused by fatigue. Correcting these mistakes requires their time as well as the time and energy of others. I have seen people work Tuesday through Friday to correct mistakes made after 5 PM on Monday.

Another problem is that people who are in the office long hours are not pleasant company. They often complain about other people (who are not working as hard); they are irritable, or cranky, or even angry. Other people avoid them. Such behaviour poses problems, where work goes much better when people work together instead of avoiding one another.



As Managers, there are things we can do to help people leave the office.
First and foremost is to set the example and go home ourselves. I work
with a manager who chides people for working long hours. His words
quickly lose their meaning when he sends these chiding group e-mails
with a time-stamp of
2 AM, Sunday.

Second is to encourage people to put some balance in their lives. For
instance, here is a guideline I find helpful:
1) Wake up, eat a good breakfast, and go to work.
2) Work hard and smart for eight or nine hours.
3) Go home.
4) Read the books/comics, watch a funny movie, dig in the dirt, play
with your kids, etc.
5) Eat well and sleep well.

This is called recreating. Doing steps 1, 3, 4, and 5 enable step 2. Working regular hours and recreating daily are simple concepts. They are hard for some of us because that requires 'personal change'. They are possible since we all have the power to choose to do them.

In considering the issue of overtime, I am reminded of my oldest son. When he was a toddler, if people were visiting the apartment, he would not fall asleep no matter how long the visit was, and no matter what time of day it was. He would fight off sleep until the visitors left. It was as if he was afraid that he would miss some thing. Once our visitors' left, he would go to sleep. By this time, however, he was over tired and would scream through half the night with nightmares. He, my wife, and I, all paid the price for his fear of missing out.

Perhaps some people put in such long hours because they do not want to miss anything when they leave the office. The trouble with this is that events will never stop happening. That is life! Things happen 24 hours a day.

Allowing for little rest is not ultimately practical. So, take a nap. Things will happen while you are asleep, but you will have the energy to catch up when you wake. Hence,

"LOVE YOUR JOB, BUT NEVER FALL IN LOVE WITH YOUR COMPANY BECAUSE YOU
NEVER KNOW WHEN THE COMPANY STOPS LOVING YOU"
- Narayana Murthy

Adieu!

Imagine

Imagine you own a room of your own, but it is still slated to be public property anyway with anyone wishing to walk in and out whenever and whatever time they choose to?

Imagine at the times you are lost in slumber, your possessions are actually getting catalogued and rifled through and some conveniently pilfered for others' uses?

Imagine you own a single pair of white-not-white shoes and are quite happy with the murky colour and it gets "borrowed" without permission one day?

Imagine when that convenient "borrowing" results in you not being able to leave the house as no other shoes match that one pair of jeans that always clads your torso?

Imagine your shoes get returned and after another "borrowing" stint, they get washed and scrubbed till they are white bright, almost back to original colouring, thus spoiling the entire experience of actually wearing said pair of shoes?

Imagine that almost all your possessions can be altered, borrowed, stolen, sold or taken de facto control of at any time?

Imagine you own a shaver and suddenly you don't?

Imagine when you locate said shaver again and are now questioned as to it's ownership because it is the exact model that the army issues and the fuckin thief is serving national service?

Imagine you buy a new belt and are very pleased with it, though it still needs a few more holes pierced so you can wear it with your other jeans that don't fit your waist as snugly?

Imagine you put your jeans in the wash with the intention of wearing the other newly-sewn-up one and you can't find your old belt that would hold it up?

Imagine that just because you own one new item, the old item of the same category reverts to public property?

Imagine that this isn't just for non-personal items but can go deeper into even really private stuff like boxers?

Imagine on the days that you're out, your computer becomes the village prostitute?

Imagine this knowing that there ARE two other PCs in the household but one is tightly controlled by the mother and geographically impossible to sneak into while the other is just loaded with spyware, adware and games?

Imagine when you return and immediately know something is amiss? Settings are changed. Pages don't load up the way you are used to. Icons missing from your desktop.

Imagine what this does to a geek who is very obsessed with customization of his electronics to the point of death, a person who never uses a program without first hitting the preferences and making it sure it works the way it should, the way he wants it to work?

Imagine you have to buy perfumes and yet hide them in case some other bastard thinks it's his god given right to use them too and without remorse or regret?

Imagine when you are sleeping, the fuckin pilferer goes through every nook and cranny not stopping till the hiding place has been sought out?

Imagine you wake up regularly to the sounds of booming shouting, usually at the mother on the topic of food or at the other sibling on the topic of "anything in the world"?

Imagine living in a household of 5 but still confining yourself to your own room because moving into the other common areas will just result in you feeling hate to the core of your soul?

Imagine you really have nothing else you can do because of an open door concept in your household and cracking a family member's head open with a hockey stick is quite frowned upon?

Imagine putting up with such uncouth filth every single goddamn day?

Damn, I'm glad I'm leaving. I had a dream last night. I was lounging somewhere else watching some TV and my mum calls. She goes "How is it there? Are you happy?". I go "I'm so happy I don't have to be in the same house as that bastard".

And it really felt good saying that. I bet if I had been looking at myself sleeping, I would have had a smile on my face.

Tag-Less

This is an official unofficial announcement that the tagboard has been retired. I frankly never saw a point for it other than to touch-and-go or to hit-and-run with random language.

This borders more on:

1. If you have anything pertinent to say, leave a comment.

2. That's what the comments field is there for.

3. I miss doing comment moderation, spam or no spam.

4. No blog superstar still has a tagboard active. With the exception of kenny sia.

5. If I suddenly don't take an irrational looking decision out of the blue, I wouldn't be me, now would I?

Adieu!

Floundering

That you are all that i need
For you, I give my soul to keep
You see me, love me
Just the way i am
For you i am a better man
I said you are the reason
For everything i do
I'd be lost, so lost without you

As my soul heals the shame
I will grow through this pain
Lord I'm doing all I can
To be a better man

I is got new haircut

You know what makes it all the more significant that you've gone for a new haircut?

1. The girlfriend sponsors you for one.
2. It is at a high end salon where not in a million years would I have thought to cut my hair at.
3. She does all this after a day when she is extremely pissed off with me for fucking plans up.

I'm touched really. I know it was just a haircut but still, given the context, it's like laying the old one-two on me without physically doing it. Who the fuck actually treats you good after a night of getting treated badly? Nethia of course.

So, she dragged me to the middle of Tanjong Pagar, prime real estate. If you know rental rates you should know salon prices situated in the area. Of course, growing up on Sri Dewa, and after that franchise all but vanished from my neighbourhood, continuing at small time "Unisex Salon" joints, I was quite wary about all of this. It's ironic I know that flipping $200 for a bottle of hard liquor I do with no qualms but a more than 8 dollar haircut I'd flip about. So, typical me, I tried to find reasons not to get an expensive haircut and of course, my efforts were vetoed.

We arrived and like a seasoned salon-er she told the bloke she needed me to get a cut and colour. Colour? I got scared. Never really have I coloured my hair except get some red highlights back in J2. Even then, I didn't bring enough money to the place cos I underestimated the cost. The auntie let me go with my word that I'd return back to pay her the balance. I did come back, few years later [I really forgot!], but the shop had since moved on to greener pastures. I wish her all the best and my deepest regrets that I still owe her $14.

The country bumpkin that I am, I didn't know what the hell to say to the stylist. So I told him I really had no idea what cut I wanted or what colour to choose and I place full trust in what he thinks is good for me. He went "Never trust your stylist completely". I was like "I in your chair. You the boss la. Do what you like".

So, for that semi-touching speech, I got 3 free highlights. Auw. It ended up looking somewhere between a cross of Jap rock star and Bombay street beggar with dust nestled in hair. Still. it was very very nice! I aint gonna show you a photo because I'm not good at self portraits. How do I know it was really nice? When random Yindians stare at you like you've forsaken 3000 years of tradition and culture in the train. Dude, your pseudo Armani is so last decade!

I is love her. Thanks for the haircut bee bee. Muack!

I is got new house

You might have been informed. Then again, it's not really a richly guarded military secret that I is got new house. I'm moving. In little over two weeks. To a far flung jungle, the same district I love to loathe. Boon Lay. Whether it is really a boon or will anything will be laid is still left to see.

Those who do know already, know WE [sig. other] are moving out as opposed to just I. Alas, the grand dame of my household reads me too. And in certain matters, the less she knows the more peaceful life can be.

It came after a lot of thought, especially since this idea has been ping-ponging in my head since I first got legally employed with a paymaster who credits money in on the 10th of every month. Like any normal issue, we investigate the socio/political/economic vantages and disadvantages of the impending move.

My mum was pretty non-violent about it though, which is quite surprising. She enquired patiently on the rent, the state of the house, the roomies [none], the housies [phantoms I had to conjure up] and amenities. Convinced that her eldest child is not transferring out to face the Iraqis in the Gulf, she proceeded to fuss over what to take from my place and go. Highly interesting that conversation. And then it dawned on me.

My mother like most Yindian stay-at-home housewives do a lot of investing in the side. Although not on stocks and bonds and shares and warrants, their investing leans more to tupperware, cutlery, pots, pans, cleaning instruments and storage boxes. She also possesses that trait of never wanting to throw anything away. It pains her to throw anything away. Hits her like a mallet that it was an item she did pay good money for but never found a use for. It also pains her to give the stuff away except when extended families require it in dire situations. Now, she finds herself in a position where she needn't throw it away nor give it away, but put it to good use, in my new place. Ah, her clutter problem solved. Nearly. Now all I have to do is sieve through everything she's prepared to part with happily and see if it fits the general architectural and design theme envisioned.

Moving out of your parents' place is quite a horrifying turn of events in the eyes of Asian parents. You better be either getting married, going off to army or dead. Explains why my dad would probably never realize exactly what is happening. The other sibling, for the sole sake of him not attempting to place any claim to my room which I have bequeathed to the youngest. Privy to the move thus is the matriarch and the youngest sibling. So, I brought my brother aside and let him know that in just 2 weeks I'll be gone for good and might only stop by on Sundays since I still have work commitments in Ang Mo Kio [and of course to grab any other essentials I might have otherwise needed to shop for]. It went something like this:

Me: Pssst. Come here I tell you something.

He: Yeah?

Me: I tell you but you can't tell anyone. Only Amma knows.

He: Ok, set, what is it?

Me: I'm moving out. Taking all my things and going. And after I'm gone you can get your own single room and don't have to put up with that asshole anymore.

He: Huh? Why? Oh... you are going to hostel is it?

Me: No. My own place.

He: So you are taking everything and never coming back? Or are you coming back after you finish up with school, in 1 year time?

Me: Never. After that I will go to work from there. I'm really outa here.

He: Anneh don't go.

Me: Why?

He: Please don't go. Then will be left with just him and me.

Me: So, you're 16. Learn how to fight for yourself. And I'm giving you my room. Don't bloody give it up to him just cause he threatens you for it.

He: But he'll whack me. Will you tell him it's for me?

Me: No. Fight for your own things. You don't learn this now, you never will. You want to go everywhere and be the boy whom people bully?

He: Why do you have to go anyway? Here got everything what.

Me: Too crowded here and there's nearer my school.

He: Anneh, are you going cause you hate us?

Me: No la goondu. Now shut up about all this. No one else knows. If anyone else finds out I'll know its you and you get ready for one final whacking before I leave.

He: Nod nod.

So, minor politicking aside I'm on this whole budgeting, planning frame of mind everyday on how best to get there and stay there and not wake up in the middle of the night petrified and going "FUCK! I forgot that!". Praba and a few others have graciously agreed to help me with the initial scrub down process. Sadly, the previous tenant didn't understand the importance of a clean washroom and kitchen. I might or might not host an open house one fine day when I feel like having visitors. Await your visitation pass if you are privileged enough.

Otherwise, all cash and cheque donations and home furnishing [read: IKEA] vouchers are much welcome. Wouldn't YOU like to do up my place? I'll grant you a plaque bearing your name in my living room, behind the door. Grin.

Adieu!

Spot On

Spotted in a girlie mag:

A woman did not return home one night. The next day, she tells her husband she slept over at her girlfriend's place. He calls up ten of her closest friends. None of them knows anything about it.

A man did not return home one night. The next day, he tells his wife he slept over at his buddy's place. She calls up ten of his closest pals.

7 of them confirm he slept over.
3 say he's still there.

Auw.

Dear Uncle Agony,

I have 3 brothers. 1 works as a bank manager, the other died of heroin overdose and the last left home since he was 12 and was never found. My younger sister is currently in jail. My mother committed suicide after my dad was sent to a mental institution. Lately, I met this girl who had just been released from probation for drug abuse and abandoning her illegitimate newborn at an underground gambling den. I have fallen in love with her and really want to spend the rest of my life with her. My problem is this: Should I tell her about my bank manager brother?

Dilemma Dude

Dear Dilemma Dude,

No. Nuff said.

Yours truly,
Auntie Agony

Another two tees I'd love to have. But alas, maybe they fall into the forbidden "You dress like a 16 year old" column. Anyhow, for the believers, there's always TShirtHell.

Adieu!

Link-phyllis

Ever wanted to blast the bastard with something he probably has no comeback to? Vehemently insult your adversary with the aid of The Bard himself, click HERE for classic Shakespearean insults to unleash on unsuspecting illiterate fools.


If you're a history buff or you've got a kid who is dealing with the pain of timelines in history, check this out. A comprehensive history timeline which is damn cool to play with. Click HERE.


Get to know these creatures that live in the most inaccessible places on earth like the deep deep Marianas Trench. Don't let the pictures scare you. Actually you could print them out blow them up and try pulling funny faces that resemble these blind blokes. Click HERE.

Adieu!

Valentine Venom

You know it eluded me for a long while. All this hype on Valentine's. Why the whole need to go out on one day just to do some declaration of love in an over the top fashion coupled with flowers and chocos and cutesy teddy bears and cheesy love notes.

I digress for a bit. I spent my morning delivering orders to the respective people who bothered to fork out a percentage of their allowance for them. In the process I came across:

1. Office staff who gush and grin like monkeys although the bouquet in question is NOT for them.

2. People thinking it WAS for them and then approaching me and were sorely dissapointed.

3. Front office staff taking bets upon seeing me walk from a distance on who the bouquet was for.

4. Colliding with a house agent and the prospective buyer at a certain condo I was to send flowers to.

5. Reading the numerous cliche and yet lifting messages on the little cards. My favourite being "I wanted to get you thorns, but the roses came free with them".

6. Rude bitches who looked like they got out of the wrong side of the bed and acted like you were handing them 12 vines of poison ivy.

7. Ruder bitches who 5 seconds after receiving it, called up their boyfriends to complain on why it felt wet at the base and why the wrapping was not up to their standard.

8. Stupid motherfucker boyfriends who order 24 red roses and then start their card out with "24 pink ones.....", thus contributing to a whole lot of confusion between supplier and client on whose mistake it was.

9. Splendid customers who actually texted me a "praise" message on the level of service accorded to them.

10. Irritating buffoons who text me every 5 minutes after their delivery timing had overshot to check if it's really going to arrive.

I'm done. Back to earlier point on why people consider this such a great day when others wouldn't. I was enlightened recently that as a woman you should instead be pissed off with a guy who pulls out all the stops on Valentine's Day following the "Where was all this all year round?" perspective. Sounds pretty much logical. And then there are those who exclaim "Every day is Valentine's Day, I don't find this special". The phrase itself sounds like a compliment but don't be fooled. You are still meant to go through the motions. The theory is very simple.

Humans deep down inside just hate other people being happier than them. It's that simple. We hate seeing random mofos strolling down the street hand in hand, flowers in one, chocs in the other, gleaming like they've been shined up real well with some car polish. The only thought that occurs to us is "What the fuck they so happy about? KNN."

Let us consider the different groups of people and what they feel:

1. The ones who are attached and V Day is a significant thing - This works out pretty much in a cliched tone. Men inherently are bastards. Who don't really see the need to surprise their other half with anything more than a "Ok, today is guy's night out" when she probably had a whole other idea in her head for the proceedings of that given night. Thus, this one day in the year is where they make up for the whole year's misgivings and taking for granteds and random rubbish. Their partners however are so lulled into this mundane lifestyle of daily "Have you eaten?", "How did your day go?", "What are you up to tomorrow?" conversations that they only realize there IS this option to. Thus, this realization sets in every V Day and they are joyous to seventh heaven thinking "Oh well, he aint that bad. He did put in a lot of effort to make this happen". And so life goes on.

2. The singles - Student singles are still playing the field. Working singles [women] are constantly on the look out for the one bloke who will satisfy at least 75% of their requirements, since perfection is always too high a goal to attain [you gotta ask God to be your boyfriend then, no offence nuns]. V Day for both these parties are like the only opportunity in a year where it comes to light on who exactly has an eye out for them. So, this group is very hyped up about this day because it is one of the few escapes, from their mundane drudgery of office work and school homework, with the opposite sex.

3. The singles who spout the commercialization line - Seriously. Bullshit la. It's a case of sour grapes I feel. So? No one let you get that nice Zara top which was 50% off at the last Chrissy sale? Thus, "I don't like christmas because it has become so commercialized. The spirit of the festive day is lost.". Same concept with V Day. The whole world gets roses and not you. V Day is commercialized la, roses are over priced la, it's about love not money la. You get the drift.

4. The attached ones who spew the "it really doesn't matter" day - Crap again I feel. These are the "everyday is a valentine's day" fellas I mentioned in an earlier paragraph. Deep down inside, no matter what has been done all year round, no matter how many flowers or gifts or words of sweet nothings or just general acts of concern and niceties, it all boils down to the "we don't like others happier than us" theory. So, don't be doofuses. Take part in the festivities. In fact, as a couple you do have a more assertive right to ownership of this day than anyone else. And when the night fetters out to nothing other than dinner at your coffeeshop and then off to bed to rest for work the next day, take a second back and realize that you brought it upon yourself. This whole insistence on not going out and partying like the animals do or lost in love like the Bard-ial Romeos and Juliets.

I'm done. For the record, Fuck V Day. It brings no one any good, except if you're a florist.

Adieu!

Braindead Law

Not everyone is a Senior Counsel K Shanmugam in court. There are those who insist on stating the obvious in well a not so obvious manner. Observe.

Recently reported in the Massachusetts Bar Association Lawyer's Journal, the following are 22 questions actually asked of witnesses by attorneys during trials and, in certain cases, the responses given by insightful witnesses:

1. "Now doctor, isn't it true that when a person dies in his sleep, he doesn't know about it until the next morning?" '


2. "The youngest son, the twenty-year old, how old is he?"


3. "Were you present when your picture was taken?"


4. "Were you alone or by yourself?"


5. "Was it you or your younger brother who was killed in the war?"


6. "Did he kill you?"


7. "How far apart were the vehicles at the time of collision?"


8. "You were there until the time you left, is that true?"


9. "How many times have you committed suicide?"


10.
Q: "So the date of conception (of the baby) was August 8th?"
A: "Yes."
Q: "And what were you doing at that time?"


11.
Q: "She had three children, right?"
A: "Yes."
Q: "How many were boys?"
A: "None."
Q: "Were there any girls?"


12.
Q: "You say the stairs went down to the basement?"
A: "Yes."
Q: "And these stairs, did they go up also?"


13.
Q: "Mr. Slatery, you went on a rather elaborate honeymoon, didn't' t you?"
A: "We went to Europe, sir."
Q: "And you took your new wife?"


14.
Q: "How was your first marriage terminated?"
A: "By death."
Q: "And by who's death was it terminated?"


15.
Q: "Can you describe the individual?"
A: "He was about medium height and had a beard."
Q: "Was this a male or a female?"


16.
Q: "Is your appearance here this morning pursuant to a deposition notice which I sent to your attorney?"
A: "No, this is how I dress when I go to work."


17.
Q: "Doctor, how many autopsies have you performed on dead people?"
A: "All my autopsies are performed on dead people."


18.
Q: "All your responses must be oral, okay? What school did you go to?"
A: "Oral."


19.
Q: "Do you recall the time you examined the body?"
A: "The autopsy started around 8:30 p.m.."
Q: "And Mr. Dennington was dead at the time?"
A: "No, he was sitting on the table wondering why I was doing an autopsy."


20.
Q: "You were not shot in the fracas?"
A: "No, I was shot midway between the fracas and the navel."


21.
Q: "Are you qualified to give a urine sample?"
A: "I have been since early childhood."


22.
Q: "Doctor, before you performed the autopsy, did you check for a pulse?"
A: "No."
Q: "Did you check for blood pressure?"
A: "No."
Q: "Did you check for breathing?"
A: "No."
Q: "So, then it is possible that the patient was alive when you began the autopsy?"
A: "No."
Q: "How can you be so sure, Doctor?"
A: "Because his brain was sitting on my desk in a jar."
Q: "But could the patient have still been alive nevertheless?"
A: "It is possible that he could have been alive and practicing law somewhere."

Adieu!

Vanstine's Poems

Spotted on talkingcock.com, good vanstine's day poems on "they who won't be named", well some anyway.

AH BENG’S VALENTINE

Roses are red Bluebirds are blue

If you dun pak tor with me, I will hoot you

T T DURAI’S VALENTINE

My pay was high My tap was gold

I’m now looking for love For when I’m paroled

SENIOR MINISTER’S VALENTINE

My darling Wife No ifs, ands, or buts

Please don’t say anything About which you know nuts

SINGAPORE GIRL’S VALENTINE

Chicken or beef? Red wine or sherry?

Sir, you’re a foreigner? Come, let us marry!

THAKSIN’S VALENTINE

The price I paid for your love Was more than your money could buy

So why not throw in a P.R. Since now I can’t be Thai?

AN ELDERLY POLITICIAN’S VALENTINE

My flag is half red, My windcheater blue

If you don’t say you love me I will sue you

AN ELDERLY POLITICIAN’S SON’S VALENTINE

Darling, you wear the pantsAnd that to me is just fine

But really, must the pants that you wear, Also have to be mine?

Adieu! And have a fantastic day y'all, especially those of us who still have to get to work and the drudgery first.

Bloom Box

Aight, the flower season is just about over. If you had partaken in the specially priced blooms I had to offer, good on you. Trust me, you won't be dissapointed. I have closed orders permanently and I think the revival is due January next year. In the meantime, do stay tuned to other ad hoc offers I will have running.

Many many thanks to the clients, the folks who charitably hosted my banner [you may take them down now] and to the arseholes who provided some good half time entertainment with their antics. I had all but run out of good beer table topics till these clowns bounced along. Wanna check a few out again?


Me: Hi, this is a gentle reminder to pay for your flowers or they won't be delivered on Wed.
A: How do I pay when you didn't give me your account number?
Me: [you could have asked bitch] Well, here it is. ******. By tonight thanks.
A: Sure, oh and can I push the delivery time. I don't need it on Tuesday no more, can I get it on Wed.
Me: Oh well, can do I guess. So expect it from 2 to 6 pm.
A: Thanks. Will message you when the cash is in.

15 minutes later,

A: Hi, I would like to cancel my order of those three lilies.
Me: Huh? Why?
A: Well, my boyfriend just only broke up with me.

This next one however, was so mystifying in nature because me AND the girlfriend both got peeved at the same time thus bestowing "Double Trouble" unto the situation.

2 days earlier,

B: Hi, I've transferred the money to you. So, please check and give me a shout.
Me: [Zzzzzzzzz] [Wake up, read] [Zzzzzzz]

2 days later,

B: Hi, have you received the money yet?
Me: [out having a beer in an area of non-reception so I can't possibly message or call back with ease] Well, I still haven't checked, get back to you later.
B: You know, out of professional courtesy the least you could have done was to message back and acknowledge that payment has been received.
Me: [Quite blur as to how you acknowledge something you haven't checked yet and quite pissed that someone is teaching me courtesy] I detest this courtesy thing that you brought up. In fact, I don't think I'd like your business anymore. Please take it elsewhere. I'll refund you the money.
B: Wow! I know you are probably busy and have many things on your mind but this is no way to speak [I'm greatly paraphrasing cos I lost that SMS too]. Forget the order.
Me: Great. Send me your account number. Good day.
B: [sends acc number]

Today,

Me: [seated at the computer to do some I Banking] Hi, how much exactly did you send me yezterday, I'd like to return your money now.
B: It was $32. Still can do the order ?
Me: [Laughing my balls off and sharing the joke with Nal and Nethia, whatever happened to last night's self righteousness?] No. By the way your money is back with you. Good day.

And with that, the botanical bonanza has drawn to a close.

Total red roses: 344
Total pink roses: 107
Total white roses: 28
Total other varieties: 11

Adieu!

Yo' Momma

I came across this great list of Yo' momma jokes. No, Nal it has nothing to do with my recent meeting of your African American [politically correct] hubby. Inspired actually by my revisiting old Eddie Murphy, Martin Lawrence and Bernie Mac stand ups.

Yo' momma's so poor, she has to take the trash IN!

Yo' momma's so poor, I went to her house and took down some cobwebs, and she said, "Who's tearing down the drapes?!"

Yo' momma's so poor, when I saw her kicking a cardboard box down the street, I asked what she was doing, and she said "Moving!"

Yo' momma was in NTUC with a box of plastic bags. I said, "What ya doin'?" She said, "Buying luggage!"

Yo' momma's so poor, I came over for dinner and saw three cookies on the table; I took one, and she said "Don't be greedy!"

Yo' momma's so poor, when I stepped on her door mat, she said, "Hey, you can't go upstairs!"

Yo' momma's so poor, I walked into her house, asked to use the bathroom, and she said, "Third tree to your right!"

Yo' momma's so poor, after I pissed in your yard, she thanked me for watering the lawn!

Yo' momma's so poor, when I asked what was for dinner, she pulled her shoelaces off and said "Spaghetti!"

Yo' momma's so poor, when I ring the doorbell, she says "DING! DONG!"

Yo' momma's so poor, when she goes to KFC, she has to lick other people's fingers!

Yo' momma's so poor, she waves around an ice cream stick and calls it air conditioning!

Yo' momma's so poor, burglars break in her house and leave money!

Yo' momma's so poor, the Somalians are sending HER food!

Yo' momma's so poor, I stepped on a cigarette and she yelled, "Who turned off the heat?!"

Yo' momma's so poor, she can't even afford to pay attention!

Yo' momma's so po', she can't even afford the "or"!

Yo' momma's so poor, she wipes with both sides of the toilet paper!

Yo' momma's so poor, the only time she's smelled hot food was when a rich man farted!

Yo' momma's so poor, yo' TV's got two channels: on and off!

Yo' momma's so poor, when yo' family watches TV, they go to COURTS!

Yo' momma's so poor, when she wrote a check, the whole bank bounced!

Road to Perdition

The O Level results are out. And gratefully I have no relative nor immediate family member to call and enquire if they have toppled me. I don't usually call anyhow. As the eldest grandson and the eldest son of the eldest sister, it seems I have my own kingdom of younglings to watch over. Still, I don't call and when they do, it just means I'm fucked. Someone else is more intelligent than me. I haven't had a call at all actually. Which means I still rock and they all still suck. I'm sorry, but aksyen-ing to 12-14 year olds is not beyond me.

In fact, usually they just issue me threats on MSN. Going along the likes of, "anneh, how much did you get for PSLE?". "***, why?". "Well, I'm gonna beat you, just wanted to give you a heads up". Ah, the disillusionment of the younger ones these days. So, of course when the PSLE grades come out and they don't achieve their aim [as expected], I make it a point to bring it up during the next festive extended family get together. I know, I'm an asshole. But if you issue statements then you should be able to pull your weight right? 12 years old or not.

So, back to the Road to Perdition. Perdition - Eternal Damnation, road to hell in other words. This is about the day I went to collect my O Level results. By then, I was already in AJC and having a ball of a time. Got into an arts class with my pathetic 16 points for the prelims and basically the idea was just to get to this school, 3 cigarettes away from home and stay put there come no matter what. And I had a few partners in crime in this intiative too. How to run a movement when you don't have sufficient participants?

To the history teacher who asked us why we entered class and never opened our bags if not to check our pager/handphone:

"Cher, don't worry. We not staying in arts. Our O's will be much better and we're switching courses to science or shipping out of the school. Relax. Summore you just relief teacher, heck it la."

To the economics teacher who asked us why we never attended lessons:

"Cher, we were crashing the physics/chemistry/math lectures cos we want to be up to date when we finally switch to science stream"

To the Tamil teacher who asked me why I couldn't be bothered to write him an essay:

"Cher, I got Higher Tamil. No wish to re-take."
"Then why you still come to class"
"Boring la. If I alone at canteen, who do I talk to"

You get the drift. Anyhow, to get my results, I invited my father along. Normally I wouldn't have. This is the man who slapped me silly in secondary school even before the teacher opened his mouth to state his displeasure at my politeness levels. Needless to say, after witnessing this fresh violence right in front of his face, the teacher decided to just not say anything and even paid me a compliment on my strength of language.

My mum made me take him along for the sake of getting him "interested" in what his sons are up to. About the only contact my dad has with our academics is to sign the report book at the end of a term. Even this, he has to be compelled to do so in order to "stay in touch" and in order to bitch about missing marks.

"How come this one only 65. 35 marks you eat up already? How? Feeling full now?"

So, as we walked in through the gates this time around. Me in uniform, he wondering whether I'm gonna flunk, we spot this teacher dude apparently stationed there to marshal people in.

So, he goes "Ah, shanker heard you did well eh?".
Me, shocked, "Ah, you see already ah, what did I get".
"I think around 18 pts la". [KNN fucker, 18 is for you did well! Die already la. My class all fuckin max. 8 pointers]

Unfazed, I walk on to the school hall. Another bloke stops me.

"Heard you did ok? Not bad also, play the fool still can study"
"Urmz, so how much I got do you know?"
"Not sure exactly la but I think it's like 15."

Shit! But then again, the estimates keep getting lower. So, I went to this long row of classmates patiently waiting to whoop in delight and me patiently waiting to get the fuck outa here and hopefully not get another barrage of slaps in front of the entire cohort [as opposed to the entire Tamil class like previously].

Lastly, the form teacher. Splendid bloke. He saw me he starts shaking his head like I just robbed his place of his family heirlooms. He wordlessly gave me that damned results slip. Lo and behold. I got 10 points. It was a true "Auw" moment.

Actually, the only emotion through my mind was not joy but relief. See, if I truly had fucked it up, with what face do I return to AJ and see the Arts teachers whose classes I have conveniently skived out of. Dad though, didn't really understand the significance of 10 points and was under the impression I had scored that out of a maximum of 100 points. I saw him frowning, eye brows furrowing and I had to explain the system to him. After that, it was an uneventful ride back home in his cab and his last words were, "Ok, go home and stay home. Don't run off after this and go drinking. If I see you, I'll smack you.". Mine were, "I think I need a handphone.".

Adieu!

Mango Idiot Makkeh

I found my new Mango Idiot Makkeh. Phrase courtesy of Yogi B. Observe:

Me: Hi, you e-mailed me regarding flowers?

He: Yes, I need one of 6 and one single bouquet. And I need it this Friday not on V Day.

Me: Aight. I can do that.

He: What colours do you have?

Me: I have red, pink and white.

He: Ok, so I'll get 3 red and 3 white for the 6 roses one. And the other one is red.

Me: [takes down name, address, etc.] So, that's like $37. Can you transfer to my account, *****.

He: Oh? Can I pay you in person? When you deliver I give you the cash?

Me: Nah, cos I'm not the one delivering. So, I need the money first to actually place a confirmed order.

He: But I can't do it online. [note: he irritates me repeatedly by saying "on9"]

Me: There's always the ATM isn't there?

He: Uh huh, I think I'll just go get it from the florist myself.

Me: [reasonably pissed off, wanting to catch him at some redundant point to fuck him up 1 x jia lat jia lat] Actually, ah, where did you hear of this service I provide? [knowing that in the blog post, bank transfers were the only method of payment listed]

He: Oh, *** told me.

Me: Sigh. Ok ciao.

What a FUCKIN MANGO IDIOT MAKKEH. This is the very first time in my bloody goddamn life that a supposed deal or someone requiring my services has fallen through out of / either:

a. Sheer laziness to traipse down to an ATM to effect a bank transfer

b. Blatant ignorance that people in this fine 1st World nation actually do throw little amounts of currency to each others' bank accounts once in a while.

c. Typical "You don't adhere to my meaningless request, I will go elsewhere" fucked up Singaporean consumer attitude.

Well, carry on son. I hope it was worth the effort. All that walking and choosing and collecting and sending.

Adieu!

Link-phatix

Today you may entertain yourself by coming here and then scooting off to one of these numerous, "wah, like that also have ah?" sites. They can thank me later. You on the other hand thank me now.

1. Board of Secrets - Answer all your life's burning questions on one Flash Oujia Board

2. JobStreet Salary Report - Compare what you earn across the board, real life humans interviewed to provide their qualifications, experience and the pay they take home. After this, either quit your day job or stomp in and ask for a raise.

3. Nicostopper - Program this device to automatically dispense ciggies to you. Only for those who are damn itchy fingers and chain smoke during their idle times.

4. Free Music Videos - Not a piracy laced site. This is in fact a collection of videos released by the labels themselves for free viewing.

5. Analyze your Handwriting - Submit a sample of your handwriting and they'll analyze it for you. Free as of the last time I checked it out. Might post my own results here soon enough.

6. Make your own RingTone - Haven't got down to this proper, but it looks very promising. Let me know if you got a nice one done, care and share. If you are capable enough to create an authentic Savadi Bongo ringtone, you shall have credit for creating the inaugural KLKillah ringtone. And I will be proud to have your music so near my nuts when my phone is in my pocket.

7. Timbuk2 Make your own Bag - Create your own laptop, messenger bags to your specs. With whatever accessories you'd need.

8. Too Much Time to Spare - Access it's archives only if you have too much time. Link given was for the 10 most bizarre people on Earth and Wacko Jacko is not in the list.

9. Cool Trivia - The only 2 answers are Dis or Dat. Changes everyday.

10. Independent Delights - A site chronicling a few of the coolest independently held businesses in the USA. If you wanna buy stuff and they don't send it here, use vPOST.

11. To Tie a Tie - Self explanatory. All sorts of knots in easy to follow pix.

12. Top 40 Best Celeb Rumors - Stuff you can use to aksyen with. Especially to people who think spraying some J.Lo "Glow" is tantamount to being J.Lo

13. Useful Foreign Phrases - My favourites were "This gentleman/lady will pay for everything" and "Call the police!".

14. Home Furnishings that are SEXY - Forget IKEA. These are aphrodisiacs you can sit on.

15. Portable Bar - Perfect for ECP getaways. Little larger than a luggage case, bottles not included.

16. Smart or Stoopid - A variation of an IQ Test with only 8 secs to answer each question. Don't attempt to Alt+Tab this window.



17. Brown Pride - Anything and everything you need to know about Latino/Hispanic culture.

Adieu!

Something Something

It finally feels like I can take a breather. These past few months, by few I think we shall impose a maximum limit of 6 months, somehow I've turned into a firefighter. To "fight fire" in local military terms [so no one is confused which military it is] is essentially to be a "fireman". A fireman is one who apparently is calm, aloof and skives in the crewroom playing cards, watching TV or banging on the computer game console only to be rushed into action when an actual flame starts. So, "to fight fire" is actually to only be activated upon onset of a crisis and to be seen as skiving in peaceful times. Contrary to public belief, it is the most lazy looking ones who can be counted on to save your sorry arse in a blazing inferno.

I strive for peace. It's something I think has been robbed from me. My entire life it is the one thing I have yearned for. Some yearn for love, some for alcohol, some to be accepted, others to be a variety of other things; I want peace. Peace of mind, peace of environment, the peace that stability brings and that kinda peace you get when you wake up at odd hours of the morning without a single thought in your mind, without anywhere to get to, without any work pending without well, any stress I suppose. So, a peaceful life is a stress free life? Maybe, maybe not.

Well since I am handling either one commitment or ten others at any point of time. This utopic garden of peace only awaits me in the after life I suppose, since there is no indication that I might be getting any in the next few decades at the very least. This rush for money, money that fuels survival, this rush for education, education that nets you money to fuel survival and this rush for survival since anyone could just drop dead of anything on any given day. Wot a rush.

As I remarked earlier, I think I am in a comfortable breathing zone now. Personal, political and economic. But we all know Murphy and we all know darn luck, a few crises are just waiting beyond the undulating horizon. Roof down, Audi convertible, setting sun and that long winding road not knowing when it's gonna dip and when it's gonna rise because well it always looks straight no matter how hard you peer through your dusty Ray Bans. Ok, I've digressed into an old Western, when convertibles were actually saddled horses. And everyone wanted to be John Wayne. I'd much prefer Ritchie Valens.

Back to fire. So, I look like the "fire fighter" but in reality I've been alleged to be the "fire starter". Yes, give me any resource, even 2 rocks to produce sparks and I can give you a fire the bushlands of Australia will be proud of. I don't do haze inducing ones though, that's a tad too political for my plane of work. Maybe I am. Maybe I'm not. I say I'm not not when I'm in denial but when I truly feel I'm not. There are 2 rationales to go ahead and start a fire.

Rationale 1: You really wanted to start the fire

This occurs when you woke up in the morning and thought to yourself that there is something lacking in the mundane sequences of everyday life and could you do something to halt that? Yes you can. Box of matches, lighter fluid and a suitable target. Usually, out of sheer convenience, you end up firing the ass of the people next to you. By this it could be your folks, siblings, partner, classmates or heck even your mamak store owner.

Rationale 2: You are prodded to start the fire

People push peoples' buttons every single day. Tell me you can go through one entire day without feeling a jab of irritation at someone or something and I will trump you up as the greatest liar that lived. There are times when you don't have the desire to start a fire, well maybe because you weren't feeling cold. And then some folks come along and say, "Hey look here, I see matches". And you think to yourself, should you? And then they go "Nah, I'm asking for it. Come, show me how you set me on fire". And then they proceed to taunt, heckle and ride your nerves till the magnanimous you stands up, pick up your matches and go "Well oh well, since you really really wanted to see it. Here goes". Another [immolated] one bites the dust.

Now, it is not wrong to be a fire starter. Reason being that 95% of the people you meet deserve to be set alight and paraded through Thaipusam as another fervent devotee even. Imagine that, there's your alibi all set for you. But when you are noted to have the penchant of setting a fire, then what if one day you are set alight? What if some bloke comes up, sizes you up and just lights a Molotov Cocktail and shoves it into your pants and flees. Karma? Nyet. The problem with being identified as an individual with inherent qualities is that other humans don't get it that they are capable of the same thing. That they can light you up. That even when they do so, they aren't really wrong to do so because they just don't get it, that they are in the "fire starter" role. A bit long winded. The gist is this. Know your role, jabroni.

I just thought of a great analogy. It's like 2 Death Row inmates sitting and chatting during lunch hour about why the other one is going to die and then both walking away thinking "Damn, this fucker deserves to die. I'm not half as bad as him". Bullshit understand?

Adieu!

Flower Power

Since announcing, publicizing, conning people to host the button and receiving orders and enquiries, I've noticed that the Evil Singapore Consumer is still very alive and kicking. I'd love to have put the blame on Yindian consumers but heck, across the board, everyone gives shit anyhow. They are who I term, blooming idiots. I put to you a few scenarios:

Me: Hi
A: Hi, noticed you selling flowers.
Me: Yep.
A: Ok, do you have a shop?
Me: No.
A: Ah, then I don't feel confident giving you my money. What if........ it doesn't come out the way I want or you don't send the thing. Is there any receipt?
Me: Well, I can give you an official receipt with my company name. Otherwise, we've never once not fulfilled an order. And that's my personal guarantee.
A: Ah well, I still quite unsure about giving you my money.
Me: Then you can take your business elsewhere.
A: But you guys are so cheap.
Me: So, what's the problem again?
A: Urmz, I'll give you a call back.

A never does. The next one is by e-mail.

B: Hi, I want to order XXX roses.
Me: Ok, it will be this much and can I have the delivery address please?
B: Ok, I want it to look exactly like this. [Attaches a photo that is swiped off a very prominent online florist]
Me: But, mine is not like that. What I have close to that is this. [Attach catalogue photo]
B: Urm ok. Well, then I want each rose to have its individual netting and it's not to be too big and preferably pink or white. Also, I want a ribbon that is this colour and it's to be tied this way.
Me: All our bouquets are beautifully crafted and our workmanship is top notch. I don't think you have much to worry about. So will I expect your money in? Is this a confirmed order?
B: Yes about that. I can't do a bank transfer. Can you give me your address so I can pay you direct?
Me: Well to transfer is much more convenient. But yeah, you can come over.
B: Ok then.

I've never heard from B since. Then again, there are those who make your life all the more simpler, like my Melayu friend.

C: So what are you up to these days?
Me: Flowers la. For V Day.
C: Always up to something.
Me: You want?
C: Ok, let's see. I got 50 bucks. Plus delivery what can I get from you?
Me: I give you the best I can for your 40 lor. That's about a dozen roses.
C: Good enough. Here's the dough. I'll give you the address later.
Me: Nice doing business with you. Ciao.

And then there are the ones who go for odd numbers to either signify an anniversary or because they figure in some nook and cranny of their mind that it's actually the cool thing to do. My take on a woman's mind is of course what I get out of my girlfriend. And her theory is that, women are more concerned with the number of roses rather than the different type or the arrangement or the colours. Anyone with less than a dozen is the ultimate Scrooge McDuck and should be disrespected as a member of the male species.

I agree. So, quit asking about stalks that number less than 12 and get your budgets higher people. If you do need a guide on significance by number and colour, here it is. Make an informed choice. You have my digits.

1 stalk - Love at 1st Sight
2 stalks - Mutual Feelings
3 stalks - I Love You
7 stalks - I am Infatuated by You
9 stalks - Together as Long as We Live
10 stalks - You are Perfect
11 stalks - You are My Treasured One
12 stalks - Be My Steady
13 stalks - Friends Forever
15 stalks - I am Sorry
20 stalks - I am Sincere Towards You
21 stalks - I am Committed to You
36 stalks - I Will Remember Our Romantic Moments
40 stalks - My Love is Genuine
99 stalks - I Will Love You Till the Day I Die
100 stalks - I am Totally Devoted to You
101 stalks - You are My One and Only
999 stalks - My Love Will Last Till the End of Time

Red - I love you or Encouragement
White - You are heavenly, reverence of innocence & purity
Pink - You are gentle & graceful
Light Pink - Gratitude & appreciation
Dark Pink - Admiration & sympathy joy & gladness
Orange - Enthusiasm
Blue - You are special
Purple - You are my romance
Yellow - Joy, Gladness, Freedom
Two Roses - Joined Together, Engagement
Red and White Roses - Together Unity

valentine's day, flowers, rose meaning
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