Self - explanatory sequence of pictures. To think we wasted our goddamn time reading Nancy Drew, Hardy Boys and The 3 Investigators. Life skills cum fairy tale stories. This is the new age kiddie story book. Enjoy.
13.10.07
29.9.07
Second Wind
What if you could get a second wind and do it all better again? Like your O levels or that soccer final you lost cos that last minute goal crept in, rolling painfully across the line way past everyone else's outstretched legs?
Seek your second wind. Might be one of the few things you actually are lucky to have.
Adieu!
Seek your second wind. Might be one of the few things you actually are lucky to have.
Adieu!
28.9.07
NLBrouhaha
The NLB recently sent out many many letters, all in professional 3 fold, tear away papery thingies to recover the millions of fines that errant book borrowers like yourself owe the gahmen. Unfortunately, I wasn't sent any. I just borrow your book and never give it back.
So, ultimately my dad, god rest the soul of his defunt library card got sent a fine for 30 cents for 2 books he apparently didn't return in 2002. Quite fair I suppose, that the NLB's system is so solid to keep the database accurate like even 5 years down the road. Still, some discrepancies are to be noted:
1. Why would a man who reads The New Paper and only that, borrow 2 cookery books?
2. Why wait 5 years?
3. Didn't the cost of the fuckin 3 fold paper thingie with irritating perforated sections PLUS postage become more than 30 cents anyway?
4. How dumb is it that the NLB says, any fines over $60 they are writing off but they are chasing blokes for their meagre 30 cents. [30 cents being the amount of spare change the average taxi user drops in the backseat due to the ample space in their jeans pockets.]
5. Wouldn't chasing the big money criminals be more worthwhile?
But wait, there IS an Indian angle to this too. As I tottered into home, the night of the great Street Soccer Gold medal win [story to be told later], before even my non-regulation DKNY socks came off, there was a distant voice of oppression echoing around the living room.
If there's one thing I enjoy most about observing our middle aged parents receive an official looking letter, it is the absolute superficiality they view it with. Case in point, my dad who threw away as soon as he glimpsed a Starhub letter with some footy stuff on it. His assumption? Fuckers gonna make us pay more money for channels we don't need. The reality? Fuckers were giving us 2 new free channels for the money we were already paying. Goal TV 1 & 2.
So, with this NLB inject came new assumptions.
Assumption 1: Who is the one who took your dad's card and went to Marine Parade library to borrow books?
Follow up: Must be you shanker, borrowed some cookery book for a girl la must be. 2002 you were in secondary school right? [I was in the fuckin ARMY already! I only had time to book out, drink till smashed and book in!]. So, must be you then [finger pointed in direction of younger sibling], your school was near marine parade so you went there! [urmz, what the fuck would i borrow cookery books for?!]. Ok then, think it must be me. Maybe I forgot. But I've no idea why I would have used your dad's card. [All nod heads in unison.]
Reality: This assumption that the books were borrowed from Marine Parade library were due only because of the return address stamped on the mailer. Obviously the main HQ address, here being Marine Parade was printed on the upper left.
Myth busted!
Assumption 2: See, la this Varaprasad, take over the library only start chasing people for money.
Follow up: This is what all those new people who come into the job do la. Chase people for money try to make a name for themselves. Assholes.
Reality: Dr N Varaprasad took over the appointment as CEO of NLB on 15th Sept 2004. It has already been 3 years and more. The NLB wrote off $3.5 million worth of unrecoverable fines last fiscal year. This assumption came about because the man who signs off on this "Pay up your fine motherfucker" letter is the CEO himself. Perhaps to put across that the order comes from the very top. Alas, like as in all organizations, the one who takes the brunt of the displeasure that arises from new developments is the man who signs on the dotted line.
Myth busted!
Addendum: Did you know that the bar codes on your IC or library card or whatever other card that can read your IC number are not dependent on the magnetic strips they are printed on. What I'm trying to say is, information on your IC number is not stored within the magnetic strips. Bar codes use a complex way of different widths of lines to denote each number that the scanner reads. It has nothing to do with the magnetism of them all. Implication? Anyone with a photostated IC can also borrow a book. [Practice is quite prevalent in some organizations where lunch rations have to be accounted for by scanning your IC in a machine]. So, the next time you photostat your IC conveniently for the M1/Singtel/Starhub bloke or when you send in a credit card application, you're just setting yourself up for another barrage of fine payments in the year 2012.
Well, at least the mailer will take 5 years to come. Good on you if the amount is over $60, at least it'll get written off.
Adieu!
So, ultimately my dad, god rest the soul of his defunt library card got sent a fine for 30 cents for 2 books he apparently didn't return in 2002. Quite fair I suppose, that the NLB's system is so solid to keep the database accurate like even 5 years down the road. Still, some discrepancies are to be noted:
1. Why would a man who reads The New Paper and only that, borrow 2 cookery books?
2. Why wait 5 years?
3. Didn't the cost of the fuckin 3 fold paper thingie with irritating perforated sections PLUS postage become more than 30 cents anyway?
4. How dumb is it that the NLB says, any fines over $60 they are writing off but they are chasing blokes for their meagre 30 cents. [30 cents being the amount of spare change the average taxi user drops in the backseat due to the ample space in their jeans pockets.]
5. Wouldn't chasing the big money criminals be more worthwhile?
But wait, there IS an Indian angle to this too. As I tottered into home, the night of the great Street Soccer Gold medal win [story to be told later], before even my non-regulation DKNY socks came off, there was a distant voice of oppression echoing around the living room.
If there's one thing I enjoy most about observing our middle aged parents receive an official looking letter, it is the absolute superficiality they view it with. Case in point, my dad who threw away as soon as he glimpsed a Starhub letter with some footy stuff on it. His assumption? Fuckers gonna make us pay more money for channels we don't need. The reality? Fuckers were giving us 2 new free channels for the money we were already paying. Goal TV 1 & 2.
So, with this NLB inject came new assumptions.
Assumption 1: Who is the one who took your dad's card and went to Marine Parade library to borrow books?
Follow up: Must be you shanker, borrowed some cookery book for a girl la must be. 2002 you were in secondary school right? [I was in the fuckin ARMY already! I only had time to book out, drink till smashed and book in!]. So, must be you then [finger pointed in direction of younger sibling], your school was near marine parade so you went there! [urmz, what the fuck would i borrow cookery books for?!]. Ok then, think it must be me. Maybe I forgot. But I've no idea why I would have used your dad's card. [All nod heads in unison.]
Reality: This assumption that the books were borrowed from Marine Parade library were due only because of the return address stamped on the mailer. Obviously the main HQ address, here being Marine Parade was printed on the upper left.
Myth busted!
Assumption 2: See, la this Varaprasad, take over the library only start chasing people for money.
Follow up: This is what all those new people who come into the job do la. Chase people for money try to make a name for themselves. Assholes.
Reality: Dr N Varaprasad took over the appointment as CEO of NLB on 15th Sept 2004. It has already been 3 years and more. The NLB wrote off $3.5 million worth of unrecoverable fines last fiscal year. This assumption came about because the man who signs off on this "Pay up your fine motherfucker" letter is the CEO himself. Perhaps to put across that the order comes from the very top. Alas, like as in all organizations, the one who takes the brunt of the displeasure that arises from new developments is the man who signs on the dotted line.
Myth busted!
Addendum: Did you know that the bar codes on your IC or library card or whatever other card that can read your IC number are not dependent on the magnetic strips they are printed on. What I'm trying to say is, information on your IC number is not stored within the magnetic strips. Bar codes use a complex way of different widths of lines to denote each number that the scanner reads. It has nothing to do with the magnetism of them all. Implication? Anyone with a photostated IC can also borrow a book. [Practice is quite prevalent in some organizations where lunch rations have to be accounted for by scanning your IC in a machine]. So, the next time you photostat your IC conveniently for the M1/Singtel/Starhub bloke or when you send in a credit card application, you're just setting yourself up for another barrage of fine payments in the year 2012.
Well, at least the mailer will take 5 years to come. Good on you if the amount is over $60, at least it'll get written off.
Adieu!
The Burmese Brawl
Why not help out a good cause, like as if Aung San Suu Kyi really ever mattered to me. Smash up all those ancient works of art I say.
Hi Friends,
We've been watching this on the news, and have all been equally horrified at the senseless violence perpetuated against a peaceful people.
Last tuesday, Buddhist monks and nuns, revered in Burma, began marching and chanting prayers. The protests spread as hundreds of thousands of ordinary people and public figures joined in, finding the hope they’d lost. Now they’re facing crackdown – so please, show your solidarity to this movement towards reconciliation and democracy and sign the emergency petition supporting the Burmese people -- it'll be delivered to United Nations Security Council members and international media all week:
Burma is ruled by one of the most brutal military dictatorships in the world. For decades the Burmese regime has fought off pressure--imprisoning elected leader Aung San Suu Kyi and democracy activists, wiping out thousands of villages, imposing forced labour, creating refugees-
In the past, Burma's military rulers have massacred the demonstrators. The world must stand with the Burmese people at this time, to show the military rulers that the world will not tolerate repression and violence.
Right now, global leaders are gathering in New York for the annual United Nations summit. In speeches, press interviews but also in real actions, we need them to show Burma's military junta that the global community is willing to act in solidarity with the protesters.
Show your solidarity to this movement for peace and democracy and sign the emergency petition supporting the Burmese people. It'll be delivered to UN Security Council members and the UN press corps all week:
http://www.avaaz.org/en/stand_with_burma/tf.php?cl_tf_sign=1
Thank you for your help guys. We might not be able to do much, but that doesn't mean that we have to do NOTHING!
Sign the Petition. Please
Divya
Hi Friends,
We've been watching this on the news, and have all been equally horrified at the senseless violence perpetuated against a peaceful people.
Last tuesday, Buddhist monks and nuns, revered in Burma, began marching and chanting prayers. The protests spread as hundreds of thousands of ordinary people and public figures joined in, finding the hope they’d lost. Now they’re facing crackdown – so please, show your solidarity to this movement towards reconciliation and democracy and sign the emergency petition supporting the Burmese people -- it'll be delivered to United Nations Security Council members and international media all week:
Burma is ruled by one of the most brutal military dictatorships in the world. For decades the Burmese regime has fought off pressure--imprisoning elected leader Aung San Suu Kyi and democracy activists, wiping out thousands of villages, imposing forced labour, creating refugees-
In the past, Burma's military rulers have massacred the demonstrators. The world must stand with the Burmese people at this time, to show the military rulers that the world will not tolerate repression and violence.
Right now, global leaders are gathering in New York for the annual United Nations summit. In speeches, press interviews but also in real actions, we need them to show Burma's military junta that the global community is willing to act in solidarity with the protesters.
Show your solidarity to this movement for peace and democracy and sign the emergency petition supporting the Burmese people. It'll be delivered to UN Security Council members and the UN press corps all week:
http://www.avaaz.org/en/stand
Thank you for your help guys. We might not be able to do much, but that doesn't mean that we have to do NOTHING!
Sign the Petition. Please
Divya
Chinglified
As an air traffic controller, the least you expect one of us to be proficient in is the command of the English language. We use big big words on a daily basis like "expedite", "accomodate", "facillitate" and other high level upper primary vocab so that dumb fuck pilots one and all are able to take instructions and follow them to the T.
Secondary in priority is our knowledge of basic geometry. Turn right 360, turn left 030, knowing if you can turn a guy's head towards another's tail elegantly. Basically, making sure, you never ever bring two guys together but "Keep 'em seperated" [hola! Offspring].
Now and then you come across the much praised and exalted JC population, some hailing from smart fuck institutions like HCJC, NJC, SAJC and other monuments who sadly think English is just a substitute language for the times when you can't speak Mandarin. It's like how we switch to Tamil when we don't want someone else to eavesdrop. It's quite an obvious switch, yet we do it anyway, claiming it as our minority right. Well, to most of the blokes I work with, English is their minority right. They only use it to cleave away the roots of uncertainty.
Trust me you. It is much much easier screaming "Whole lot KNOCK IT DOWN!", then attempting to do the same in Mandarin which may/may not elicit sniggers instead. Found a tale that describes the pain of the non-Chinglified. [not me.]
Ah Kow was asked to make a sentence using 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10.
Not only did he do it 1 to 10, he did it again from 10 back to 1. This is how:
Adieu!
Secondary in priority is our knowledge of basic geometry. Turn right 360, turn left 030, knowing if you can turn a guy's head towards another's tail elegantly. Basically, making sure, you never ever bring two guys together but "Keep 'em seperated" [hola! Offspring].
Now and then you come across the much praised and exalted JC population, some hailing from smart fuck institutions like HCJC, NJC, SAJC and other monuments who sadly think English is just a substitute language for the times when you can't speak Mandarin. It's like how we switch to Tamil when we don't want someone else to eavesdrop. It's quite an obvious switch, yet we do it anyway, claiming it as our minority right. Well, to most of the blokes I work with, English is their minority right. They only use it to cleave away the roots of uncertainty.
Trust me you. It is much much easier screaming "Whole lot KNOCK IT DOWN!", then attempting to do the same in Mandarin which may/may not elicit sniggers instead. Found a tale that describes the pain of the non-Chinglified. [not me.]
Ah Kow was asked to make a sentence using 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10.
Not only did he do it 1 to 10, he did it again from 10 back to 1. This is how:
1 day I go 2 climb a 3 outside a house to peep. But the couple saw me, so I panic and 4 down. The man rushed out and wanted to 5 with me.. I ran until I fell 6 and threw up. So I go into 7 -eleven and grabbed some 8 to throw at him. Then I took a 9 and try to stab at him. 10 God he run away.
10 I put the 9 back and pay for the 8 and left 7-eleven. Next day I called my boss and told him I was 6 . He said 5 , tomorrow also no need to come back 4 work. He also asked me to go climb a 3 and jump down. I don't understand. I am so nice 2 him but I don't know what he 1.
Adieu!
23.9.07
Overheard at Work
Scene 1
So, we was having some discussion on pretty high level matters albeit in low level surroundings over smokes and beers.
Big Fuck: So, what do you think can be done about "this this this" and "that that that"
Me: Frankly, Sir, I am not going to answer this question because it is not within my pay grade to do so.
Scene 2
There's a lot of talk these days on how the workforce manpower management and culture is going to morph with 3G this and 3G that [woe begone the days where 3G was only meant for mobile phones].
Big Fuck: So, how are all of you getting along with this new 3G system?
Smart Alec: Sir, doesn't what 3G really mean is that now 1 man does 3 men's jobs?
Big Fuck: [now, this blew us away cos we thought he was gonna get defensive] Yeah, I suppose you could say that in a way. Apparently SOME people feel that the more technologically advanced we get, less people need be there to run the show. Still, I have but one piece of advise for those of you caught in a piled up work fix now.
Smart Alec: And what is that?
Big Fuck: Hear this and hear it good. My own boss told me this before. "What you can do tomorrow.... Don't do today". There you go. This should solve the problem.
Scene 3
After sussing out a lot of suggestions from the ground on how to improve Workplace Safety, a decision was made to put a red warning box outside all doors at work that open outwards. Brilliant idea and it did have its desired effect.
Via e-mail:
Biggest Fuck of the Joint: So, tell me, why did you choose red as the colour of the box instead of anyother colour? Nothing important just generally curious.
Guy who enforced the idea: Well, Sir, initially I thought of yellow so that it gives a better contrast against the grey concrete.
Biggest Fuck of the Joint: Yeah, I thought so too. So why didn't you?
Guy who enforced the idea: Sir, there are really no lack of idiots in this joint. I am willing to stake my half month bonus on the fact that some idiot sooner or later will be using the warning yellow box as a smoking point.
Biggest Fuck of the Joint: You mean there are idiots here?
Adieu!
So, we was having some discussion on pretty high level matters albeit in low level surroundings over smokes and beers.
Big Fuck: So, what do you think can be done about "this this this" and "that that that"
Me: Frankly, Sir, I am not going to answer this question because it is not within my pay grade to do so.
Scene 2
There's a lot of talk these days on how the workforce manpower management and culture is going to morph with 3G this and 3G that [woe begone the days where 3G was only meant for mobile phones].
Big Fuck: So, how are all of you getting along with this new 3G system?
Smart Alec: Sir, doesn't what 3G really mean is that now 1 man does 3 men's jobs?
Big Fuck: [now, this blew us away cos we thought he was gonna get defensive] Yeah, I suppose you could say that in a way. Apparently SOME people feel that the more technologically advanced we get, less people need be there to run the show. Still, I have but one piece of advise for those of you caught in a piled up work fix now.
Smart Alec: And what is that?
Big Fuck: Hear this and hear it good. My own boss told me this before. "What you can do tomorrow.... Don't do today". There you go. This should solve the problem.
Scene 3
After sussing out a lot of suggestions from the ground on how to improve Workplace Safety, a decision was made to put a red warning box outside all doors at work that open outwards. Brilliant idea and it did have its desired effect.
Via e-mail:
Biggest Fuck of the Joint: So, tell me, why did you choose red as the colour of the box instead of anyother colour? Nothing important just generally curious.
Guy who enforced the idea: Well, Sir, initially I thought of yellow so that it gives a better contrast against the grey concrete.
Biggest Fuck of the Joint: Yeah, I thought so too. So why didn't you?
Guy who enforced the idea: Sir, there are really no lack of idiots in this joint. I am willing to stake my half month bonus on the fact that some idiot sooner or later will be using the warning yellow box as a smoking point.
Biggest Fuck of the Joint: You mean there are idiots here?
Adieu!
15.9.07
2nd Paradox
A competition in the Washington Post on paradoxical second lines to follow a romantic first line.
My darling, my lover, my beautiful wife:
Marrying you screwed up my life.
I see your face when I am dreaming.
That's why I always wake up screaming.
Kind, intelligent, loving and hot;
This describes everything you are not.
Love may be beautiful, love may be bliss,
But I only slept with you 'cause I was pissed.
I thought that I could love no other --
that is until I met your sister.
Roses are red, violets are blue, sugar is sweet, and so are you.
But the roses are wilting, the violets are dead, the sugar bowl's empty and so is your head.
I want to feel your sweet embrace;
But don't take that paper bag off your face.
I love your smile, your face, and your eyes --
Damn, I'm good at telling lies!
My love, you take my breath away.
Whose dick did you suck to smell this way?
My feelings for you no words can tell,
Except for maybe "Go to hell."
My darling, my lover, my beautiful wife:
Marrying you screwed up my life.
I see your face when I am dreaming.
That's why I always wake up screaming.
Kind, intelligent, loving and hot;
This describes everything you are not.
Love may be beautiful, love may be bliss,
But I only slept with you 'cause I was pissed.
I thought that I could love no other --
that is until I met your sister.
Roses are red, violets are blue, sugar is sweet, and so are you.
But the roses are wilting, the violets are dead, the sugar bowl's empty and so is your head.
I want to feel your sweet embrace;
But don't take that paper bag off your face.
I love your smile, your face, and your eyes --
Damn, I'm good at telling lies!
My love, you take my breath away.
Whose dick did you suck to smell this way?
My feelings for you no words can tell,
Except for maybe "Go to hell."
9.9.07
Aft Note
On an aft note, regular posts will resume. What other hilarious happenings are there then what occurs day to day in the life of a soldier.
B.D.A.Y
So, the birthday came and went. Thanks for the wishes and the very "useful" presents. I'm sure edible panties will be a good munchkin after I saddle up on a good book after a long day.
Big up to the boys in camp. I liked Anand's cake better though [mostly cos I was the one who personalized it], still fruits is better than no fruits. Good thought on my part to play footy with my keys in my pocket lest my bed frame, mattress and cupboard go missing whilst I was kicking it.
And thanks lovelies for the pre, ongoing and post-dinner entertainment. Release release release.
I'm beat.
Adieu!
Big up to the boys in camp. I liked Anand's cake better though [mostly cos I was the one who personalized it], still fruits is better than no fruits. Good thought on my part to play footy with my keys in my pocket lest my bed frame, mattress and cupboard go missing whilst I was kicking it.
And thanks lovelies for the pre, ongoing and post-dinner entertainment. Release release release.
I'm beat.
Adieu!
1.9.07
Open Legs
She married and had 13 children. Her husband died. She married again and had 7 more children. Again, her husband died. But she remarried and this time had 5 more children. She finally died after having 25 children. Standing before her coffin, the preacher prayed for her.
He thanked the Lord for this very loving woman and said, "Lord, they're finally together."
One mourner leaned over and quietly asked her friend, "Do you think he means her first, second, or third husband?
The friend replied, "I think he means her legs"
He thanked the Lord for this very loving woman and said, "Lord, they're finally together."
One mourner leaned over and quietly asked her friend, "Do you think he means her first, second, or third husband?
The friend replied, "I think he means her legs"
25.8.07
Stupefied Students
Clearing out junk mail from months back, why should only I suffer the torture of viewing "has beens".
For your viewing pleasure:
For your viewing pleasure:
Early Retirement
ASK anyone who has ever bought a lottery ticket what he would do if he won,and the reply will invariably be: "Quit my job." This leads me to believe that many of us seek fortune not because we want a second home or a third car, but rather, because we seek an end to the chore of our daily work routine.
So, for those who are seeking to retire comfortably, early, here are 10 tips:
1 Don't buy a car
Why, oh why, would you buy a car in Singapore? A vehicle, unlike property, never appreciates in value, petrol prices are astronomical, and parking is often a waste of time and money. Besides, Singapore has a world-class public transport system.
2 Rent to live, Buy to invest
With property prices hitting the roof and interest rates soaring steadily, buying a home now has never been riskier. Rent the house you intend to live in and only buy property when the economy is mired in recession. Surround yourself with liquidity when the going is good, because cash truly is king when going gets tough.
3 Don't drink or smoke
There's a perfectly good reason for all those heavy duties on alcohol and tobacco ?they're bad for you. Liver cirrhosis and lung cancer are not pleasurable ?and it's not cheap to treat them. Quit now.
4 Don't gamble
It may not seem like much every time you place a wager. But consider this: Instead of blowing $500 a month on gambling, saving that amount in your CPF Special Account at 4 per cent per annum would yield a total of $350,000 at the end of 30 years.
5 Credit cards
With interest rates of 24 per cent per annum, credit cards spell disaster when they fall into the wrong hands. If you use a credit card because of the perks and privileges, make sure you can afford to pay off the debt in full. If you find yourself only paying the "minimum sum", you're in trouble ?so switch to using a debit card or Nets.
6 Own a business
If you have the right idea, relevant expertise and helpful partners, no other investment can match the kind of returns that owning a business can give you. If you don't have the inspiration to be an entrepreneur, then buy a piece of an existing company from the stock market.
7 Avoid unit trusts
Unit trusts have always marketed themselves as these glorious bastions of out-performance, run by dedicated professionals. But a Wall Street Journal study showed that, on average, professional fund managers are not any better at stock picking than chimpanzees throwing darts at a newspaper.
After taking sales charges, management fees and so on into account, you are almost always better off buying a benchmark index-tracking Exchange-Traded Funds, or ETFs.
8 Don't buy insurance unless you really need it
Insurance is an undoubtedly useful instrument. But think carefully again when your insurance agent starts saying that you should start early to "lock in low premiums" (because they will only get higher as you age).
The facts: At 5 per cent per annum compounded annually, a 30-year policy will cost you twice as much as a 20-year one, all else being equal. This means that buying an insurance policy 10 years earlier than necessary will cost you dearly, even if you do pay marginally lower premiums annually.
9 Have three or more? You can't afford it!
I adore children but, let's face it, kids really are financial black holes. Consolidate all your expenses, from hospital bills to tertiary education, and you realise that the baby bonus does little to alleviate the epic costs of raising a child. And parents regularly pass up promotions and raises for the sake of their young ones.
10 Live simply
Perhaps the most crucial point. Michael Jackson was worth over US$1 billion ($1.5 billion) at his zenith, but the spendthrift frittered his fortune because of his decadent lifestyle. Remember that income is only half of the wealth equation. A lack of fiscal discipline can still spell financial ruin.
Migration is also an option, but plan carefully, because amenities like healthcare are appallingly inefficient and/or expensive in other countries.
Money may be a terrible master, but the mastery of money makes many things possible. Even early retirement.
The writer is Charles Tan, currently studying MSc Finance and Economics at the London
School of Economics and Political Science
So, for those who are seeking to retire comfortably, early, here are 10 tips:
1 Don't buy a car
Why, oh why, would you buy a car in Singapore? A vehicle, unlike property, never appreciates in value, petrol prices are astronomical, and parking is often a waste of time and money. Besides, Singapore has a world-class public transport system.
2 Rent to live, Buy to invest
With property prices hitting the roof and interest rates soaring steadily, buying a home now has never been riskier. Rent the house you intend to live in and only buy property when the economy is mired in recession. Surround yourself with liquidity when the going is good, because cash truly is king when going gets tough.
3 Don't drink or smoke
There's a perfectly good reason for all those heavy duties on alcohol and tobacco ?they're bad for you. Liver cirrhosis and lung cancer are not pleasurable ?and it's not cheap to treat them. Quit now.
4 Don't gamble
It may not seem like much every time you place a wager. But consider this: Instead of blowing $500 a month on gambling, saving that amount in your CPF Special Account at 4 per cent per annum would yield a total of $350,000 at the end of 30 years.
5 Credit cards
With interest rates of 24 per cent per annum, credit cards spell disaster when they fall into the wrong hands. If you use a credit card because of the perks and privileges, make sure you can afford to pay off the debt in full. If you find yourself only paying the "minimum sum", you're in trouble ?so switch to using a debit card or Nets.
6 Own a business
If you have the right idea, relevant expertise and helpful partners, no other investment can match the kind of returns that owning a business can give you. If you don't have the inspiration to be an entrepreneur, then buy a piece of an existing company from the stock market.
7 Avoid unit trusts
Unit trusts have always marketed themselves as these glorious bastions of out-performance, run by dedicated professionals. But a Wall Street Journal study showed that, on average, professional fund managers are not any better at stock picking than chimpanzees throwing darts at a newspaper.
After taking sales charges, management fees and so on into account, you are almost always better off buying a benchmark index-tracking Exchange-Traded Funds, or ETFs.
8 Don't buy insurance unless you really need it
Insurance is an undoubtedly useful instrument. But think carefully again when your insurance agent starts saying that you should start early to "lock in low premiums" (because they will only get higher as you age).
The facts: At 5 per cent per annum compounded annually, a 30-year policy will cost you twice as much as a 20-year one, all else being equal. This means that buying an insurance policy 10 years earlier than necessary will cost you dearly, even if you do pay marginally lower premiums annually.
9 Have three or more? You can't afford it!
I adore children but, let's face it, kids really are financial black holes. Consolidate all your expenses, from hospital bills to tertiary education, and you realise that the baby bonus does little to alleviate the epic costs of raising a child. And parents regularly pass up promotions and raises for the sake of their young ones.
10 Live simply
Perhaps the most crucial point. Michael Jackson was worth over US$1 billion ($1.5 billion) at his zenith, but the spendthrift frittered his fortune because of his decadent lifestyle. Remember that income is only half of the wealth equation. A lack of fiscal discipline can still spell financial ruin.
Migration is also an option, but plan carefully, because amenities like healthcare are appallingly inefficient and/or expensive in other countries.
Money may be a terrible master, but the mastery of money makes many things possible. Even early retirement.
The writer is Charles Tan, currently studying MSc Finance and Economics at the London
School of Economics and Political Science
18.7.07
Blind Pilots
Two men dressed in pilot's uniforms walk up the aisle of the airplane. Both are wearing dark glasses, one is using a guide dog, and the other is tapping his way along the aisle with a cane. Nervous laughter spreads through the cabin, but the men enter the cockpit, the door closes, and the engines start up. The passengers begin glancing nervously around, searching for some sign that this is just a little practical joke. None is forthcoming.
The plane moves faster and faster down the runway, and the people sitting in the window seats realize they're headed straight for the water at the edge of the airport territory. As it begins to look as though the plane will plough into the water, panicked screams fill the cabin.
At that moment, the plane lifts smoothly into the air. The passengers relax and laugh a little sheepishly, and soon all retreat into their magazines, secure in the knowledge that the plane is in good hands. In the cockpit, one of the blind pilots turns to the other and says, "You know Bob, one of these days, they're going to scream too late and we're all going to die."
Moral: Any job can be done with the right method of execution. I fink.
Contribution: ArchVik
The plane moves faster and faster down the runway, and the people sitting in the window seats realize they're headed straight for the water at the edge of the airport territory. As it begins to look as though the plane will plough into the water, panicked screams fill the cabin.
At that moment, the plane lifts smoothly into the air. The passengers relax and laugh a little sheepishly, and soon all retreat into their magazines, secure in the knowledge that the plane is in good hands. In the cockpit, one of the blind pilots turns to the other and says, "You know Bob, one of these days, they're going to scream too late and we're all going to die."
Moral: Any job can be done with the right method of execution. I fink.
Contribution: ArchVik
12.7.07
11.7.07
7 Nations
See la bee. Can't get it out of my head now. Thump, thump, thump.
I'm gonna fight 'em all
A seven nation army couldn't hold me back
They're gonna rip it off
Taking their time right behind my back
And I'm talking to myself at night
Because I can't forget
Back and forth through my mind
Behind a cigarette
And the message coming from my eyes
Says leave it alone
Don't want to hear about it
Every single one's got a story to tell
Everyone knows about it
From the Queen of England to the hounds of hell
And if I catch it coming back my way
I'm gonna serve it to you
And that aint what you want to hear
But thats what I'll do
And the feeling coming from my bones
Says find a home
I'm going to Wichita
Far from this opera for evermore
I'm gonna work the straw
Make the sweat drip out of every pore
And I'm bleeding, and I'm bleeding, and I'm bleeding
Right before the lord
All the words are gonna bleed from me
And I will sing no more
And the stains coming from my blood
Tell me go back home
A seven nation army couldn't hold me back
They're gonna rip it off
Taking their time right behind my back
And I'm talking to myself at night
Because I can't forget
Back and forth through my mind
Behind a cigarette
And the message coming from my eyes
Says leave it alone
Don't want to hear about it
Every single one's got a story to tell
Everyone knows about it
From the Queen of England to the hounds of hell
And if I catch it coming back my way
I'm gonna serve it to you
And that aint what you want to hear
But thats what I'll do
And the feeling coming from my bones
Says find a home
I'm going to Wichita
Far from this opera for evermore
I'm gonna work the straw
Make the sweat drip out of every pore
And I'm bleeding, and I'm bleeding, and I'm bleeding
Right before the lord
All the words are gonna bleed from me
And I will sing no more
And the stains coming from my blood
Tell me go back home
10.7.07
10 Simple Rules
Amen. I think this should be printed and kept for when our daughters are born.
Top Ten Simple Rules for Dating My Teenage Daughter
Rule One: If you pull into my driveway and honk you’d better be delivering a package, because you’re sure not picking anything up.
Rule Two: You do not touch my daughter in front of me. You may glance at her, so long as you do not peer at anything below her neck. If you cannot keep your eyes or hands off of my daughter’s body, I will remove them.
Rule Three: I am aware that it is considered fashionable for boys of your age to wear their trousers so loosely that they appear to be falling off their hips. Please don’t take this as an insult, but you and all of your friends are complete idiots. Still, I want to be fair and open minded about this issue, so I propose this compromise: You may come to the door with your underwear showing and your pants ten sizes too big, and I will not object. However, in order to ensure that your clothes do not, in fact, come off during the course of your date with my daughter, I will take my electric nail gun and fasten your trousers securely in place to your waist.
Rule Four: I’m sure you’ve been told that in today’s world, sex without utilizing a “barrier method” of some kind can kill you. Let me elaborate, when it comes to sex, I am the barrier, and I will kill you.
Rule Five: It is usually understood that in order for us to get to know each other, we should talk about sports, politics, and other issues of the day. Please do not do this. The only information I require from you is an indication of when you expect to have my daughter safely back at my house, and the only word I need from you on this subject is “early.”
Rule Six: I have no doubt you are a popular fellow, with many opportunities to date other girls. This is fine with me as long as it is okay with my daughter. Otherwise, once you have gone out with my little girl, you will continue to date no one but her until she is finished with you. If you make her cry, I will make you cry.
Rule Seven: As you stand in my front hallway, waiting for my daughter to appear, and more than an hour goes by, do not sigh and fidget. If you want to be on time for the movie, you should not be dating. My daughter is putting on her makeup, a process that can take longer than painting the Golden Gate Bridge. Instead of just standing there, why don’t you do something useful, like changing the oil in my car?
Rule Eight: The following places are not appropriate for a date with my daughter: Places where there are beds, sofas, or anything softer than a wooden stool. Places where there are no parents, policemen, or nuns within eyesight. Places where there is darkness. Places where there is dancing, holding hands, or happiness. Places where the ambient temperature is warm enough to induce my daughter to wear shorts, tank tops, midriff T-shirts, or anything other than overalls, a sweater, and a goose down parka — zipped up to her throat. Movies with a strong romantic or sexual theme are to be avoided; movies which features chain saws are okay. Hockey games are okay. Old folks homes are better.
Rule Nine: Do not lie to me. I may appear to be a potbellied, balding, middle-aged, dimwitted has-been. But on issues relating to my daughter, I am the all-knowing, merciless God of your universe. If I ask you where you are going and with whom, you have one chance to tell me the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. I have a shotgun, a shovel, and five acres behind the house. Do not trifle with me.
Rule Ten: Be afraid. Be very afraid. It takes very little for me to mistake the sound of your car in the driveway for a chopper coming in over a rice paddy near Hanoi. When my Agent Orange starts acting up, the voices in my head frequently tell me to clean the guns as I wait for you to bring my daughter home. As soon as you pull into the driveway you should exit your car with both hands in plain sight. Speak the perimeter password, announce in a clear voice that you have brought my daughter home safely and early, then return to your car — there is no need for you to come inside. The camouflaged face at the window is mine.
Adieu!
8.7.07
Gahmen Gems
Don't you love it when the loving ones you pay $100,000 a month to come up with gems?
“Retrenchment is good for singapore. If there is no retrenchments, then I worry.” - SM Goh
“I don’t think that there should be a cap on the number of directorship that a person can hold.” - PAP MP John Chen who holds 8 directorships.
“It’s not for the money because some of the companies pay me as little as $10,000 a year.” - PAP MP Wang Kai Yuen who holds 11 directorships.
“If you want to dance on a bar top, some of us will fall off the bar Top. Some people will die as a result of liberalising bar top dancing… a young girl with a short skirt dancing on it may attract some insults from some other men, the boyfriend will start fighting and some people will die.” - Vivian Balakrishnan, Minister for Community Development, Youth and Sports
“I would want to form an alternative policies group in Parliament, comprising 20 PAP MPs. These 20 PAP MPs will be free to vote in accordance with what they think of a particular policy. In other words, the whip for them will be lifted. This is not playing politics, this is something which I think is worthwhile doing.” - SM Goh
“If you sing Jailhouse Rock with your electric guitar when others are playing Beethoven, you are out of order. The whip must be used on you.” - SM Goh again, on a dramatic u-turn, rethink or backtrack, whatever you call it.
“Save on one hairdo and use the money for breast screening.” - another gem from Lim Hng Kiang
“We started off with (the name) and after looking at everything, the name that really tugged at the heartstrings was in front of us. The name itself is not new, but what has been used informally so far has endeared itself to all parties.” - Mah Bow Tan on the $400,000 exercise to rename Marina Bay as Marina Bay.
“Having enjoyed football as a national sport for decades, we in Singapore have set ourselves the target of reaching the final rounds of World Cup in 2010.” - Ho Peng Kee
“Only 5% are unemployed. We still have 95% who are employed.” - Yeo Cheow Tong
“Singaporean workers have become more expensive than those in the USA and Australia.” - Tony Tan
“People support CPF cuts because there are no protest outside parliament.” - PM Lee
“No, it was not a U-turn, and neither was it a reversal of government policy. But you can call it a rethink.” - Yeo Cheow Tong
“…I regret making the decision because, in the end, the baby continued to be in intensive care, and KKH now runs up a total bill of more than $300,000…” - Lim Hng Kiang, regretting the decision to save a baby’s life because KKH ran up a $300,000 bill
“Without the elected president and if there is a freak result, within two or three years, the army would have to come in and stop it.” - MM Lee Kuan Yew
“Please do not assume that you can change governments. Young people don’t understand this” - Minister Mentor Lee Kuan Yew, post-2006 General Elections
Source: Singabloodypore
Multi Racial Ma
"We owe our security, we owe our stability, we owe our economic success to our multiracial society and to the fact that our different races are able to live together and build our society together. This is actually our core value."
And so mused the National Development minister. Apart from the scorn and accusations of ineffectiveness a lot of people throw at him, perhaps he has done one better this time round. This whole issue of "multi racialism" is so overrated.
Mee pok dry is good; multi racial food servers, chefs and coffeeshop workers. Coffee is up ten cents when a 2% increase over previous GST would be 2% of 60 cents: 1.2 cents. Got to be multi racialism and diversity and what not "gotong royong" mish mash we're subjected to. Your MRT runs on time; multiracial drivers and station staff made it happen. Your SBS buses stink to the core; multi racial cleaners, drivers and passengers help to induce the pain. If multi racialism is such a standard attribute of the success of this nation, what about the failures? Don't all us blokes multi racially contribute to fuckin things up in the little ways we can and are subject to each and every day?
Putting it in perspective, these are the dudes who are responsible for each of what he said.
Security: Cops, SAF and the unnamed James Bond types who we still do not know where they operate from.
Stability: SAF and its score of kick ass weapons and operators, good governance and policy.
Economic Success: Good govermental policies and investment arms.
What all this 3 have to do with the fact that we're a kaleidoscope of Indians, Malays, Chinese and Others? No idea except to perpetuate the old adage. Still, the one who coined the term has to be the most brilliant of them all. Reminds me of how the oldies rant and rave about the merits of their caste. "He's so rich ah? Cos he's Chettiar la that's why", "Oh, that boy was quite brave, I think he's Thevar". Balls to you understand?
Adieu!
Mee pok dry is good; multi racial food servers, chefs and coffeeshop workers. Coffee is up ten cents when a 2% increase over previous GST would be 2% of 60 cents: 1.2 cents. Got to be multi racialism and diversity and what not "gotong royong" mish mash we're subjected to. Your MRT runs on time; multiracial drivers and station staff made it happen. Your SBS buses stink to the core; multi racial cleaners, drivers and passengers help to induce the pain. If multi racialism is such a standard attribute of the success of this nation, what about the failures? Don't all us blokes multi racially contribute to fuckin things up in the little ways we can and are subject to each and every day?
Putting it in perspective, these are the dudes who are responsible for each of what he said.
Security: Cops, SAF and the unnamed James Bond types who we still do not know where they operate from.
Stability: SAF and its score of kick ass weapons and operators, good governance and policy.
Economic Success: Good govermental policies and investment arms.
What all this 3 have to do with the fact that we're a kaleidoscope of Indians, Malays, Chinese and Others? No idea except to perpetuate the old adage. Still, the one who coined the term has to be the most brilliant of them all. Reminds me of how the oldies rant and rave about the merits of their caste. "He's so rich ah? Cos he's Chettiar la that's why", "Oh, that boy was quite brave, I think he's Thevar". Balls to you understand?
Adieu!
4.7.07
I've learnt
Quite a stunner of a chain e-mail I received recently. For all manners and purposes, we can safely assume, I'm back. Grin.
I’ve learned.....maturity has more to do with what types of experiences you’ve had and what you’ve learned from them and less to do with how birthdays you have celebrated.
I’ve learned.....its took me a long time to become the person I want to be.
I’ve learned.....you cannot make someone love you. All you can do is be someone who can be loved; the rest is up to them.
I’ve learned.....no matter how much I care, some people just don’t care back.
I’ve learned.....it takes years to build up trust and only seconds to destroy it.
I’ve learned.....either you control your attitude or it controls you.
I've learned.....its not what you have in your life but who you have in life that counts.
I’ve learned.....you should never tell a child their dreams are unlikely or outlandish. Few things are more humiliating, and what a tragedy it would be if they believe it.
I’v'e learned.....you shouldn’t compare yourself to the best others can do.
I’ve learned.....you can do something in an instant that which will give you heartache for life.
I’ve learned.....you should always leave loved ones with loving words. It may be the last time you see them.
I’ve learned.....we are responsible for what we do, no matter how we feel.
I’ve learned.....real heroes are the people who do what has to be done when it needs to be done, regardless of the consequences.
I’ve learned.....sometimes the people you expect to kick you when you’re down will be the ones to help you get back up.
I’ve learned.....sometimes when I’m angry I have the right to be angry, but that doesn’t give me the right to be cruel.
I’ve learned.....no matter how good a friend is, they’re going to hurt you every once in a while and you must forgive them for that.
I’ve learned.....it isn’t always enough to be forgiven by others, sometimes you are to learn to forgive yourself.
I’ve learned.... .no matter how bad your heart is broken, the world doesn’t stop for your grief.
I’ve learned.....our background and circumstances may have influence on who we are, but we are responsible for what we become.
I’ve learned.....just because two people argue, it doesn’t mean they don’t love each other. And just because they don’t argue doesn’t mean they do.
I’ve learned.....we don’t have to change friends if we understand that friends change.
I’ve learned.....even when I have pain, I don’t have to be one.
I’ve learned.....credentials on the wall do not make you a decent human being.
I’ve learned.....the people you care about most in life are taken from you too soon. Cherish and appreciate them now.
I’ve learned.....its hard to determine where to draw the line between being nice and not hurting people’s feelings and standing up to what you believe.
I’ve learned.....life sometimes gives you a second chance.
I’ve learned.....making a “living” is not the same thing as making a ”life.”
I’ve learned.....we are born with two eyes in front because we must not always look behind but see what lies ahead beyond ourselves. We are born with two ears, one left and one right, so that we can hear both sides, collect both the compliments and criticisms. We are born with a brain concealed in a skull, then no matter how poor we seem to be, we are still rich and no one can steal what our brain contains. We are born with two eyes, two ears but one mouth for the mouth is a sharp weapon. It can hurt, flirt and kill: remember our motto --- talk less, listen and see more. We are born with only one heart, deep in our ribs and it reminds us to appreciate and give love from deep within. Real beauty lies not in the physical appearance, but in the heart.
5.6.07
Barbie Kitty
Speed surfing through the day's headlines and of course CNA produced another entertainment gem. The story was "Barbie gets Hello Kitty makeover".
I was very puzzled. Isn't the idea of a makeover meant to make something immensely prettier than it originally was? Alluding to the whole, "you have the potential la.... you just don't know what to do with yourself" theory. Now, why the fuck would timeless icon Barbie want a Hello Kitty makeover? That's like saying Tyra Banks needs an Ugly Betty makeover.
I propose Hello Kitty get a Barbie makeover and quick too.
Note: The writer does NOT own a Hello Kitty nail clipper and does NOT line his study table with a "cheonged" Hello Kitty tablecloth that is more resemblant of Kaijyu Paradise [if you can even remember what that is]
Adieu!
I was very puzzled. Isn't the idea of a makeover meant to make something immensely prettier than it originally was? Alluding to the whole, "you have the potential la.... you just don't know what to do with yourself" theory. Now, why the fuck would timeless icon Barbie want a Hello Kitty makeover? That's like saying Tyra Banks needs an Ugly Betty makeover.
I propose Hello Kitty get a Barbie makeover and quick too.
Note: The writer does NOT own a Hello Kitty nail clipper and does NOT line his study table with a "cheonged" Hello Kitty tablecloth that is more resemblant of Kaijyu Paradise [if you can even remember what that is]
Adieu!
4.6.07
Water Gods
It was a common thing to hear mums warn kids not to go swimming during the Chinese 7th Month, the Hungry Ghosts month. The theory was that since the ghosts were out to roam, those that died by drowning will return to the original site of death [swimming pool, seashore, reservoir, etc.]. Thus, they'd drag little kids [since ghosts aint that strong to drag down Hulk Hogan unless it's a team effort] back with them to their watery graves.
Logical. As of today, "Little Girl drowns in Sentosa" numbers 12 since January. Someone must be really angering the water gods around here majorly. No, maybe not Calypso a la POTC but probably mighty Trident since his weapon is cooler and he doesn't have dark stained teeth and talk in a Caribbean drawl. I can list the major suspects for you:
1. NEWater. One should never attempt to make drinking water out of waste water. It's not right. And to arrogantly bottle it and market it for the world to steal a snigger is unforgivable.
2. Merlion. The symbol of national pride [patriotism is also something mythical to some of our national servicemen] should never have been moved to it's new site next to the Esplanade. A lion [with a cold fish appendage] has feelings too. It's not right holding free open-air concerts right beside it and expect it not to want to crane it's neck to have a look.
3. Wrath of Mother Nature. It's time to flood out the world. There is no more Moses to part the Red Sea. The Netherlands will soon be awash in water [FYI, lowest point in Rotterdam is 7 metres below sea level, protected only by ingenious dykes, easily disposed off by unpredictable flash floods though]
4. Influx of foreign water devils. With the rise in foreign talent, it is only right that English water devils like the Gindylow [who do the same dragging and drowning] ought to have taken advantage of "globalization" to populate a more temperate region. It's their version of a Caribbean holiday. As Chow Yuen Fatt put it: "Welcome to Singapore"
For further water spirit GK, read HERE.
Adieu!
Logical. As of today, "Little Girl drowns in Sentosa" numbers 12 since January. Someone must be really angering the water gods around here majorly. No, maybe not Calypso a la POTC but probably mighty Trident since his weapon is cooler and he doesn't have dark stained teeth and talk in a Caribbean drawl. I can list the major suspects for you:
1. NEWater. One should never attempt to make drinking water out of waste water. It's not right. And to arrogantly bottle it and market it for the world to steal a snigger is unforgivable.
2. Merlion. The symbol of national pride [patriotism is also something mythical to some of our national servicemen] should never have been moved to it's new site next to the Esplanade. A lion [with a cold fish appendage] has feelings too. It's not right holding free open-air concerts right beside it and expect it not to want to crane it's neck to have a look.
3. Wrath of Mother Nature. It's time to flood out the world. There is no more Moses to part the Red Sea. The Netherlands will soon be awash in water [FYI, lowest point in Rotterdam is 7 metres below sea level, protected only by ingenious dykes, easily disposed off by unpredictable flash floods though]
4. Influx of foreign water devils. With the rise in foreign talent, it is only right that English water devils like the Gindylow [who do the same dragging and drowning] ought to have taken advantage of "globalization" to populate a more temperate region. It's their version of a Caribbean holiday. As Chow Yuen Fatt put it: "Welcome to Singapore"
For further water spirit GK, read HERE.
Adieu!
3.6.07
Gang Exits
So, I was reading in The New Paper, a sorry excuse for a tabloid [If tabloid is defined by size 72 fonts and garish headlines that actually have nothing to do with summarizing the story] about how Malay gang members take great pains to exit their affiliations and erase their past.
Something piqued my interest. Exit techniques to be precise. Now, I've heard and seen huge sums of money being coughed up [If you are in the 369 gang, you might have to pay $369 or with a coupla zeroes after that to gain freedom] and a standard one to one mano a mano mortal kombat with the strongest dude in the group. But, something new was revealed in this article.
These days due to the inherent penetration of video games and creative storylines in almost everything we take up, street hoodlums too have jumped on the bandwagon to come up with brilliant exit strategies.
Solution revealed in this article involved the "member" starting at the 12th floor staircase landing of a HDB block and descending all the way to the 1st whilst fending off attacks from one guy stationed at every subsequent lift landing. This is the ultimate battle royale. A senseless test of fitness and strength [both mental and physical] and stamina. So, one man goes against 12 in quick succession depending on whether he is gridlocked anywhere along the way. You'd think that after the first few guys he'd devise Jackie Chan-like attributes and attempt to jump over the man instead of brawling with him. Or prepare himself adequately with cross trainer Nikes, a tracksuit and a rusty cycle chain.
Staircase Sudoku I'd name it, if they ever called a huge ass meeting to "brand" and "market" this creative practice. It's all about the marketing as the iPod has proven to the world. By the way, the Nintendo Wii is the new age game machine and you'd be a doofus to even think the PS3 is worth more than its weight in aluminium.
Following up on this "how do I exit a gang [one that doesn't even financially enrich me]" conundrum comes the new avalanche of violence based videos on YouTube. Here, amateur criminals take videos of their bashings and post them coupled with their gang numbers or names as the title header. Meet Singapore's Dumbest Criminals. Why hasn't someone even come up with that programme yet since our nation is probably more wired up with CCTV [some unplugged and fake] than it ever has been before. Right, so people used to beat the fuck outa people and then run, and sometimes never get caught. Now, they show their handsome face to the camera in gloat and glee [Attn: Investigation Officer - CID] and also state their affiliations [Attn: Secret Society Branch - CID]. Brilliant.
I bow down to supreme intelligence. Makes me wish I was smarter.
gang, gangster, singapore, youtube
Generated By Technorati Tag Generator
Something piqued my interest. Exit techniques to be precise. Now, I've heard and seen huge sums of money being coughed up [If you are in the 369 gang, you might have to pay $369 or with a coupla zeroes after that to gain freedom] and a standard one to one mano a mano mortal kombat with the strongest dude in the group. But, something new was revealed in this article.
These days due to the inherent penetration of video games and creative storylines in almost everything we take up, street hoodlums too have jumped on the bandwagon to come up with brilliant exit strategies.
Solution revealed in this article involved the "member" starting at the 12th floor staircase landing of a HDB block and descending all the way to the 1st whilst fending off attacks from one guy stationed at every subsequent lift landing. This is the ultimate battle royale. A senseless test of fitness and strength [both mental and physical] and stamina. So, one man goes against 12 in quick succession depending on whether he is gridlocked anywhere along the way. You'd think that after the first few guys he'd devise Jackie Chan-like attributes and attempt to jump over the man instead of brawling with him. Or prepare himself adequately with cross trainer Nikes, a tracksuit and a rusty cycle chain.
Staircase Sudoku I'd name it, if they ever called a huge ass meeting to "brand" and "market" this creative practice. It's all about the marketing as the iPod has proven to the world. By the way, the Nintendo Wii is the new age game machine and you'd be a doofus to even think the PS3 is worth more than its weight in aluminium.
Following up on this "how do I exit a gang [one that doesn't even financially enrich me]" conundrum comes the new avalanche of violence based videos on YouTube. Here, amateur criminals take videos of their bashings and post them coupled with their gang numbers or names as the title header. Meet Singapore's Dumbest Criminals. Why hasn't someone even come up with that programme yet since our nation is probably more wired up with CCTV [some unplugged and fake] than it ever has been before. Right, so people used to beat the fuck outa people and then run, and sometimes never get caught. Now, they show their handsome face to the camera in gloat and glee [Attn: Investigation Officer - CID] and also state their affiliations [Attn: Secret Society Branch - CID]. Brilliant.
I bow down to supreme intelligence. Makes me wish I was smarter.
gang, gangster, singapore, youtube
Generated By Technorati Tag Generator
1.6.07
The Tuition Game
It is a very interesting industry. The private tuition game. It would have been termed a job or profession if it truly was so, but in all aspects it's a game. A people management game, a discipline game, an effectiveness game and the game of illusions.
Tutors generally come in all shapes and sizes and are usually aware that no other profession coughs up upwards of 20 an hour rates except for entry level professional entities. Rates commanded are based sometimes on seniority, qualifications and pure guesswork.
Typically in descending order:
1. Ex-Teachers, Retirees [of the seasoned, wrinkled variety]
Some are good and then some are real good. This group is aware that a financial supplement to their civil service salary is quite welcome indeed. However, their classroom ideas of discipline and attention span will inevitably translate to the tuition arena. More often than not, they provide extensive knowledge through years of experience and spotting questions; but their students beg their parents to stop the tuition due to the repeat of mainstream nightmares.
2. NIE Trained Teachers [like as if NIE training really matters]
The NIE certification is very very overestimated. Not everyone who graduates from a course there can teach. This is in accordance with friends and friends of friends we've all known who couldn't attract the attention of crows while being a scarecrow even. Still, the tagging of the "NIE" brand is solely for enticing the paymasters, the parents.
3. Undergraduates [Of any field and discipline]
The myriad of undergrads teaching everything from subjects they know to subjects they don't are the main fuel of the industry. Undergrads typically are hungry for money and are exceedingly mobile. It is not uncommon to see an Arts student churning up numbers in A Maths lessons or a Science student professing astute knowledge in History. Whatever you can pitch to land a job.
4. Others [A very wide and encompassing group, usually those that end up spoiling the market]
This group mainly is employed by people who are of the thinking that as long you have cleared that level, you are able to supervise for that level. A very layman's way of terming this would be "If you are Pri 6, you can teach a Pri 5 student". This is where the Poly dudes, ITE dudes and private school students factor in. Why I say they are the market spoilers? Because the most amount of undercutting occurs within this group. Whereas a seasoned teacher will fart at the thought of less than 40/hour and an undergrad at less than 25/hour, this group have been known to offer their services for as little as 10/hour. Very inappropriate if you ask me.
We've assessed the manpower situation that feeds the demand. Now for the creation of demand. Why do people take tuition? A few reasons spring to mind. None of those will be initiated by the actual student. See, parents these days have some vague notion that the longer their kid spends on academics the more his/her grades are gonna grow. Possibly they are also aware that most kids hate school and most teachers are handling 30 odd students at the same time. Not good enough a ratio for personal coaching. So, the reasons would be:
1. My kid is failing the subject
2. My kid needs to improve his grade in the subject [sometimes wishing for an F9 to an A1]
3. My kid seems too free.
Thus, they go thru the motions and go about their various means and resources to procure a tutor. These are:
1. Ask a friend who has employed a tutor before
2. Call up a random agency, possibly the one which has the best advert in the Classifieds
3. Hook up the kid in an already existing group tuition where his friend is enrolled in
There needs to exist a certified code of conduct and market rates for this industry to succeed, something which is highly unlikely in the near future because this is one of the most cut throat areas ever to work at. Not to mention the high turnover rate. Tutors quit and get sacked at whims and fancies. Also, parents are mostly of the false belief that it is a buyer's market. So, instead of being well-informed consumers and sussing out products and evaluations in order to provide for one of the most sacred of all services; education; these parents work on utter randomness. [Brownian motion of smoke particles comes to mind]
Hence, parents go thru a minimum of 3-4 tutors before hitting jackpot. By jackpot, don't be mistaken that it means its a tutor who manages to help the ailing academics of their unfortunate child. Jackpot means a tutor they can stand. See, this industry is fucked up in the way that the person receiving the service is the true victim in all sense. Victimized by his parents because he doesn't have much say in the selection of tutors and victimized by inept tutors who play the double game very well. These tutors take great pains to please their paymasters, the parents. They smile, go "hello auntie, hello uncle, have you eaten", take their seat, spout out 2 hours of nonsense [inclusive 1.5 hours of the kid just doing his exercises] and then leave. None the wiser.
The parents are overjoyed when they come across punctual, polite, well mannered and "not in a rush for dough" tutors. They treasure these employees and treat them like part of the family amidst the fact their kid's grades have jumped barely 1/2 a percentage point from 30 to 30.5 still earning him his F9.
Where has the focus gone to? Should the tutors be servicing the student or their parents? Granted, you always keep your salary givers in the best possible relations ever but is that what tutoring is about? I for one believe in results. Result oriented education. My self-coined term and I might make millions out of it. For what do you fork out 5 times what a Macdonald's employee earns to a twiddly thumbed tutor if not for results?
I have a tuition kid and he recently cleared his mid-years. Amazingly, he managed to fail everyone of his subjects except the 2 I am tutoring him in. Funny thing is, he is also getting tutored for all the others save one. So, just by general comparison, who is delivering the results? And then I've also had kids who have a distinct jump in grades after jus the first month under me, but yet the assignment was doomed from the start.
See, in line with the entire "buyer's market" misconception, parents [particularly Yindians] still want to grate their value for money out of you. You cease to be just the tutor in their eyes and evolve into being a full time employee under their directorship. By this I mean, punctuality to the dot [give or take 5 seconds], general appearance, "they can cancel but you don't" theory and the like. Cowboys who are "flexible" in timings and days are non-tolerable but "hello auntie" kids who do zilch for their offspring have their virtues extolled to the high skies.
Where is the orientation to results? I say we need to purge this thinking. Most of youse are probably still employees but might one day get to managerial and employer positions. Don't be a fucking doofus and insist on running military precision disicpline when the work really gets done on time and is done well. Defeats the purpose of good work doesn't it? Case in point, Google. Google's offices do not even look like offices. Holiday chalets or each individual's living room is a better description.
Back to the tuition perspective, it's perhaps wishful thinking that the dynamics change to what the student wants. What days he wants, what times he wants, is he comfortable with you and do his grades pick up. By all means, the next time you come across horror parents who believe you are on their payroll and so go all "Give me 20 push ups soldier" on you, do invite them to sit in on your lesson so they can gain the benefits for what they pay for.
Who are we teaching anyway?
Now, the dynamics is clear isn't it? Which is common in this upside down world we live in. Reminds me of 2 different departments I've worked at. In one, my boss sets me work, and doesn't care where I'm at, what I'm doing as long as some basic requirements are met:
1. I come in to work in the morning.
2. My work is shit-hot. [as opposed to dog-shit, both airforce lingo]
3. My work is on time [most of the time, I deliver a 2 week deadline in 2 working days]
The other department I've worked at was like this:
1. Boss sets me work, gives me 2 weeks. I'm done in 2 days, he's on MC/leave etc.
2. I am bored and have no work to do [not a fault of mine]
3. I become the permanent smoking point fixture.
4. Productivity hours are not counted but "sitting at the table" hours are counted.
This the horror department where no one really cares if work is done [their department standard is replying you only after the 3rd reminder e-mail], but they DO care if they don't see you at your desk from 8 am to 530 pm.
But on the other side, there are parents I'd like to flag up as ideal paymasters. Like this one:
Me: Auntie, I kinda need my money in advance cos I'm running damn tight and I need to pay rent.
She: Eh, why you ask until like that? It's your money you know, you have all the right to demand it. I know how it's like to pull off part time jobs. [Lady in question is a top notch financial agent with a local bank]
Same lady, different day:
Me [to the kid]: Eh, your parents not in today? Damn, thought can get my money.
Kid: Wait I tell them.
Later,
She: Sorry, sorry we weren't around. Can I transfer to you early tomorrow morning cos I can't do it now.
Me: Phew. Sure, thanks.
Background of course is that when you start living day to day. You really hope the money that should line your pockets does line it. And when it doesn't, then God help you for the following 1 week that you thought this money would take care of. So, it is advisable not to count your chickens before they hatch. Anything can happen. You can take ill, they can cancel, the world can come to an end. Bottomline is you are 50 bucks poorer at the end of the month.
This is only my personal perspective on the private home tuition market. I've yet to begin my observations on the tuition centre market. Many students [at bargain prices], 1 tutor [at bargain pay] and 1 organization [bargaining everything].
Adieu!
Tutors generally come in all shapes and sizes and are usually aware that no other profession coughs up upwards of 20 an hour rates except for entry level professional entities. Rates commanded are based sometimes on seniority, qualifications and pure guesswork.
Typically in descending order:
1. Ex-Teachers, Retirees [of the seasoned, wrinkled variety]
Some are good and then some are real good. This group is aware that a financial supplement to their civil service salary is quite welcome indeed. However, their classroom ideas of discipline and attention span will inevitably translate to the tuition arena. More often than not, they provide extensive knowledge through years of experience and spotting questions; but their students beg their parents to stop the tuition due to the repeat of mainstream nightmares.
2. NIE Trained Teachers [like as if NIE training really matters]
The NIE certification is very very overestimated. Not everyone who graduates from a course there can teach. This is in accordance with friends and friends of friends we've all known who couldn't attract the attention of crows while being a scarecrow even. Still, the tagging of the "NIE" brand is solely for enticing the paymasters, the parents.
3. Undergraduates [Of any field and discipline]
The myriad of undergrads teaching everything from subjects they know to subjects they don't are the main fuel of the industry. Undergrads typically are hungry for money and are exceedingly mobile. It is not uncommon to see an Arts student churning up numbers in A Maths lessons or a Science student professing astute knowledge in History. Whatever you can pitch to land a job.
4. Others [A very wide and encompassing group, usually those that end up spoiling the market]
This group mainly is employed by people who are of the thinking that as long you have cleared that level, you are able to supervise for that level. A very layman's way of terming this would be "If you are Pri 6, you can teach a Pri 5 student". This is where the Poly dudes, ITE dudes and private school students factor in. Why I say they are the market spoilers? Because the most amount of undercutting occurs within this group. Whereas a seasoned teacher will fart at the thought of less than 40/hour and an undergrad at less than 25/hour, this group have been known to offer their services for as little as 10/hour. Very inappropriate if you ask me.
We've assessed the manpower situation that feeds the demand. Now for the creation of demand. Why do people take tuition? A few reasons spring to mind. None of those will be initiated by the actual student. See, parents these days have some vague notion that the longer their kid spends on academics the more his/her grades are gonna grow. Possibly they are also aware that most kids hate school and most teachers are handling 30 odd students at the same time. Not good enough a ratio for personal coaching. So, the reasons would be:
1. My kid is failing the subject
2. My kid needs to improve his grade in the subject [sometimes wishing for an F9 to an A1]
3. My kid seems too free.
Thus, they go thru the motions and go about their various means and resources to procure a tutor. These are:
1. Ask a friend who has employed a tutor before
2. Call up a random agency, possibly the one which has the best advert in the Classifieds
3. Hook up the kid in an already existing group tuition where his friend is enrolled in
There needs to exist a certified code of conduct and market rates for this industry to succeed, something which is highly unlikely in the near future because this is one of the most cut throat areas ever to work at. Not to mention the high turnover rate. Tutors quit and get sacked at whims and fancies. Also, parents are mostly of the false belief that it is a buyer's market. So, instead of being well-informed consumers and sussing out products and evaluations in order to provide for one of the most sacred of all services; education; these parents work on utter randomness. [Brownian motion of smoke particles comes to mind]
Hence, parents go thru a minimum of 3-4 tutors before hitting jackpot. By jackpot, don't be mistaken that it means its a tutor who manages to help the ailing academics of their unfortunate child. Jackpot means a tutor they can stand. See, this industry is fucked up in the way that the person receiving the service is the true victim in all sense. Victimized by his parents because he doesn't have much say in the selection of tutors and victimized by inept tutors who play the double game very well. These tutors take great pains to please their paymasters, the parents. They smile, go "hello auntie, hello uncle, have you eaten", take their seat, spout out 2 hours of nonsense [inclusive 1.5 hours of the kid just doing his exercises] and then leave. None the wiser.
The parents are overjoyed when they come across punctual, polite, well mannered and "not in a rush for dough" tutors. They treasure these employees and treat them like part of the family amidst the fact their kid's grades have jumped barely 1/2 a percentage point from 30 to 30.5 still earning him his F9.
Where has the focus gone to? Should the tutors be servicing the student or their parents? Granted, you always keep your salary givers in the best possible relations ever but is that what tutoring is about? I for one believe in results. Result oriented education. My self-coined term and I might make millions out of it. For what do you fork out 5 times what a Macdonald's employee earns to a twiddly thumbed tutor if not for results?
I have a tuition kid and he recently cleared his mid-years. Amazingly, he managed to fail everyone of his subjects except the 2 I am tutoring him in. Funny thing is, he is also getting tutored for all the others save one. So, just by general comparison, who is delivering the results? And then I've also had kids who have a distinct jump in grades after jus the first month under me, but yet the assignment was doomed from the start.
See, in line with the entire "buyer's market" misconception, parents [particularly Yindians] still want to grate their value for money out of you. You cease to be just the tutor in their eyes and evolve into being a full time employee under their directorship. By this I mean, punctuality to the dot [give or take 5 seconds], general appearance, "they can cancel but you don't" theory and the like. Cowboys who are "flexible" in timings and days are non-tolerable but "hello auntie" kids who do zilch for their offspring have their virtues extolled to the high skies.
Where is the orientation to results? I say we need to purge this thinking. Most of youse are probably still employees but might one day get to managerial and employer positions. Don't be a fucking doofus and insist on running military precision disicpline when the work really gets done on time and is done well. Defeats the purpose of good work doesn't it? Case in point, Google. Google's offices do not even look like offices. Holiday chalets or each individual's living room is a better description.
Back to the tuition perspective, it's perhaps wishful thinking that the dynamics change to what the student wants. What days he wants, what times he wants, is he comfortable with you and do his grades pick up. By all means, the next time you come across horror parents who believe you are on their payroll and so go all "Give me 20 push ups soldier" on you, do invite them to sit in on your lesson so they can gain the benefits for what they pay for.
Who are we teaching anyway?
Now, the dynamics is clear isn't it? Which is common in this upside down world we live in. Reminds me of 2 different departments I've worked at. In one, my boss sets me work, and doesn't care where I'm at, what I'm doing as long as some basic requirements are met:
1. I come in to work in the morning.
2. My work is shit-hot. [as opposed to dog-shit, both airforce lingo]
3. My work is on time [most of the time, I deliver a 2 week deadline in 2 working days]
The other department I've worked at was like this:
1. Boss sets me work, gives me 2 weeks. I'm done in 2 days, he's on MC/leave etc.
2. I am bored and have no work to do [not a fault of mine]
3. I become the permanent smoking point fixture.
4. Productivity hours are not counted but "sitting at the table" hours are counted.
This the horror department where no one really cares if work is done [their department standard is replying you only after the 3rd reminder e-mail], but they DO care if they don't see you at your desk from 8 am to 530 pm.
But on the other side, there are parents I'd like to flag up as ideal paymasters. Like this one:
Me: Auntie, I kinda need my money in advance cos I'm running damn tight and I need to pay rent.
She: Eh, why you ask until like that? It's your money you know, you have all the right to demand it. I know how it's like to pull off part time jobs. [Lady in question is a top notch financial agent with a local bank]
Same lady, different day:
Me [to the kid]: Eh, your parents not in today? Damn, thought can get my money.
Kid: Wait I tell them.
Later,
She: Sorry, sorry we weren't around. Can I transfer to you early tomorrow morning cos I can't do it now.
Me: Phew. Sure, thanks.
Background of course is that when you start living day to day. You really hope the money that should line your pockets does line it. And when it doesn't, then God help you for the following 1 week that you thought this money would take care of. So, it is advisable not to count your chickens before they hatch. Anything can happen. You can take ill, they can cancel, the world can come to an end. Bottomline is you are 50 bucks poorer at the end of the month.
This is only my personal perspective on the private home tuition market. I've yet to begin my observations on the tuition centre market. Many students [at bargain prices], 1 tutor [at bargain pay] and 1 organization [bargaining everything].
Adieu!
24.5.07
Kiddy Kuips
You know I really don't have the time to be online when I resort to cut and pasting the crap my (ex) Dean sends my way. Will make an effort to pen down thoughts and recollect when I reach home after a fuckin tiring day. Usually once the fingers hit the keyboard, all inspiration is lost to the comfort of that double duvet-ed queen size mattress.
JACK (age 3) was watching his mum breast-feeding his new baby sister. After a while he asked: "Mum why have you got two? Is one for hot and one for cold milk?"
MELANIE (age 5) asked her Granny how old she was. Granny replied she was so old she didn't remember any more. Melanie said, "If you don't remember you must look in the back of your panties. Mine say five to six."
STEVEN (age 3) hugged and kissed his mum good night. "I love you so much that when you die I'm going to bury you outside my bedroom window."
BRITTANY (age 4) had an earache and wanted a pain killer. She tried in vain to take the lid off the bottle. Seeing her frustration, her mum explained it was a child-proof cap and she'd have to open it for her. Eyes wide with wonder, the little girl asked: "How does it know it's me?"
SUSAN (age 4) was drinking juice when she got the hiccups. "Please don't give me this juice again," she said, "It makes my teeth cough."
DJ (age 4) stepped onto the bathroom scale and asked: "How much do I cost?"
MARC (age 4) was engrossed in a young couple that were hugging and kissing in a restaurant. Without taking his eyes off them, he asked his dad: "Why is he whispering in her mouth?"
CLINTON (age 5) was in his bedroom looking worried. When his mum asked what was troubling him, he replied, "I don't know what'll happen with this bed when I get married. How will my wife fit in?"
JAMES (age 4) was listening to a Bible story. His dad read: "The man named Lot was warned to take his wife and flee out of the city but his wife looked back and was turned to salt." Concerned, James asked: "What happened to the flea?"
TAMMY (age 4) was with her mother when they met an elderly, rather wrinkled woman her mum knew. Tammy looked at her for a while and then asked, "Why doesn't your skin fit your face?"
"Dear Lord," the minister began, with arms extended toward heaven and a rapturous look on his up turned face. "Without you, we are but dust..." He would have continued but at that moment my very obedient daughter who was listening leaned over to me and asked quite audibly in her shrill little four year old girl voice, "Mum, what is butt dust?"
JACK (age 3) was watching his mum breast-feeding his new baby sister. After a while he asked: "Mum why have you got two? Is one for hot and one for cold milk?"
MELANIE (age 5) asked her Granny how old she was. Granny replied she was so old she didn't remember any more. Melanie said, "If you don't remember you must look in the back of your panties. Mine say five to six."
STEVEN (age 3) hugged and kissed his mum good night. "I love you so much that when you die I'm going to bury you outside my bedroom window."
BRITTANY (age 4) had an earache and wanted a pain killer. She tried in vain to take the lid off the bottle. Seeing her frustration, her mum explained it was a child-proof cap and she'd have to open it for her. Eyes wide with wonder, the little girl asked: "How does it know it's me?"
SUSAN (age 4) was drinking juice when she got the hiccups. "Please don't give me this juice again," she said, "It makes my teeth cough."
DJ (age 4) stepped onto the bathroom scale and asked: "How much do I cost?"
MARC (age 4) was engrossed in a young couple that were hugging and kissing in a restaurant. Without taking his eyes off them, he asked his dad: "Why is he whispering in her mouth?"
CLINTON (age 5) was in his bedroom looking worried. When his mum asked what was troubling him, he replied, "I don't know what'll happen with this bed when I get married. How will my wife fit in?"
JAMES (age 4) was listening to a Bible story. His dad read: "The man named Lot was warned to take his wife and flee out of the city but his wife looked back and was turned to salt." Concerned, James asked: "What happened to the flea?"
TAMMY (age 4) was with her mother when they met an elderly, rather wrinkled woman her mum knew. Tammy looked at her for a while and then asked, "Why doesn't your skin fit your face?"
"Dear Lord," the minister began, with arms extended toward heaven and a rapturous look on his up turned face. "Without you, we are but dust..." He would have continued but at that moment my very obedient daughter who was listening leaned over to me and asked quite audibly in her shrill little four year old girl voice, "Mum, what is butt dust?"
19.5.07
Liqour Labels
Found off the web.
Liquor manufacturers have accepted the Government's suggestion that the following warning labels be placed immediately on all varieties of alcohol containers:
WARNING: The consumption of alcohol may leave you wondering what the hell happened to your bra and panties.
WARNING: The consumption of alcohol may make you think you are whispering when you are not.
WARNING: The consumption of alcohol is a major factor in dancing like a retard.
WARNING: The consumption of alcohol may cause you to tell your friends over and over again that you love them.
WARNING: The consumption of alcohol may cause you to think you can sing.
WARNING: The consumption of alcohol may lead you to believe that ex-lovers are really dying for you to telephone them at four in the morning.
WARNING: The consumption of alcohol may make you think you can logically converse with members of the opposite sex without spitting.
WARNING: The consumption of alcohol may create the illusion that you are tougher, smarter, faster and better looking than most people.
WARNING: The consumption of alcohol may lead you to think people are laughing WITH you.
WARNING: The consumption of alcohol may cause pregnancy.
WARNING: The consumption of alcohol may lead you to believe you are invisible.
WARNING: The consumption of alcohol may make you think you have mystical Kung Fu powers, resulting in you getting your ass kicked.
WARNING: The consumption of alcohol may cause you to roll over in the morning and see something really scary.
WARNING: The crumsumpten of alcohol may Mack you tink you kan tpye reel gode [been here]
Liquor manufacturers have accepted the Government's suggestion that the following warning labels be placed immediately on all varieties of alcohol containers:
WARNING: The consumption of alcohol may leave you wondering what the hell happened to your bra and panties.
WARNING: The consumption of alcohol may make you think you are whispering when you are not.
WARNING: The consumption of alcohol is a major factor in dancing like a retard.
WARNING: The consumption of alcohol may cause you to tell your friends over and over again that you love them.
WARNING: The consumption of alcohol may cause you to think you can sing.
WARNING: The consumption of alcohol may lead you to believe that ex-lovers are really dying for you to telephone them at four in the morning.
WARNING: The consumption of alcohol may make you think you can logically converse with members of the opposite sex without spitting.
WARNING: The consumption of alcohol may create the illusion that you are tougher, smarter, faster and better looking than most people.
WARNING: The consumption of alcohol may lead you to think people are laughing WITH you.
WARNING: The consumption of alcohol may cause pregnancy.
WARNING: The consumption of alcohol may lead you to believe you are invisible.
WARNING: The consumption of alcohol may make you think you have mystical Kung Fu powers, resulting in you getting your ass kicked.
WARNING: The consumption of alcohol may cause you to roll over in the morning and see something really scary.
WARNING: The crumsumpten of alcohol may Mack you tink you kan tpye reel gode [been here]
12.5.07
Traffic Woes
Ah, my favourite past time. Analyzing what makes civil servants think up the shit they do in the name of the "greater good" when eventually it's going to produce death. Let me explain. First, take note of junction in question on road map.
1 minute walk from the MRT and situated right beside the Ang Mo Kio South Neighbourhood Police Centre, possibly why all the changes in landscape occurred anyway.So, originally this particular junction was the only method used for all and sundry who needed to get to the train station from my cluster of the blocks. I.e. everyone living on left and right of the street that branches from the main road of Avenue 3. Jaywalking was the norm. As you can see, even by map distance the nearest two overhead bridges were not really the "convenient" way to get to the other side of the road.
A pictorial representation. Red arrows are vehicular movement. Blue arrows are commuter movement. Now this was the way it was, for aeons and aeons till the NPC got built. Suddenly, it became a pride thing. How could people blatantly flout the law at the doorsteps of the Men In Blue? Unthinkable. Those sinners.Thus, an effort got underway to deter jaywalkers. No, they didn't post a policeman on the sidewalk to effectively scare away potential jaywalkers. Now, that would have been too much of an effort. Poor dude. Did we really expect him to be standing there for more than 10 mins at a go in sweat drenched uniforms when the comfort of airconditioning, water cooler, pantry, television and plush chair was waiting for him twenty metres to the right?
So, here's what they did.
By putting those long green spiky fences on the center divider, jaywalkers now effectively had their walking space reduced by 95%. It was not an anomaly to see close to 15 people bunched up at the end of the divider waiting their turn to clear traffic. Do you see what happened? From a moderate traffic risk, the ingenuity of whoever instituted the change have brought it to a high risk traffic risk. The lesser the area to manouevre the more unsafe it became.Still not satisfied because the jaywalking never stopped. It just got more confined. It was still a smear on the First Class Transportation Network we possessed in our bleached nation. So, construction crew were brought in and this was what they came up with.
Ah, traffic lights. It should solve everything. No it doesn't. With the old system, vehicles had an all clear path to the next traffic light. I.e. from junction of Ave 3/8 to junction of Ave 3/10. This was a good 500-600 metres of unfettered roads and speeds of 100-120 kmh were the norm. 20 odd years of living in these conditions have honed the jaywalkers' skills to a fine precise one. Just by sight we would know when we could make it and when we couldnt. Which car was speeding and which was a tortoise. It was not the pro-law practise, but it worked.With the brand new lights installed. Cars now had a minor glitch to their path. An inconsiderate happening considering the road does have potential to jam during peak hours. Not helped by SBS buses cutting through 3 lanes near the end towards the new AMK Hub.
From two decades of zero accidents, even with unscrupulous jaywalking. We are only just counting down the days to the first major hit and run. Another problem seemingly solved by the men in charge, but creating a whole new other problem. Now you have instances of beating the red light, crossing indiscriminately with the false confidence that a traffic light will save your ass and generally impatient dudes waiting for the light to change. Where responsiblity initially lay in the hands of those who jaywalked, it has shifted to the two sets of traffic lights. Principle is, the moment you lay the responsibility of protecting your life to something/one else, mayhem is just waiting around the corner.
Moral of the story: If it aint broke, don't fix it. You might get back more than you're bargaining for.
7.5.07
Ah Kow's Pigs
I have a friend. Her name's Div. And she's a damn good read. An example in reference to rising minister's salaries:
THE STORY OF Ah Kow, the Singaporean FARMER
Ah-Kow was overseeing his herd of animals in the last family farm in Singapore when suddenly a brand-new BMW advanced out of a dust cloud towards him. The driver, a young man in a Brioni suit, Gucci shoes, Ray Ban sunglasses and YSL tie, leans out the window and asks the peasant, "If I tell you exactly how many sows and piglets you have in your herd, Will you give me a piglet?"
Ah-Kow looks at the man, obviously a yuppie, then looks at his peacefully grazing herd and calmly answers, "Sure, Why not?" The yuppie parks his car, whips out his Dell notebook computer, connects it to his RAZR V3 cell phone, and surfs to a NASA page on the Internet, where he calls up a GPS satellite to get an exact fix on his location which he then feeds to another NASA satellite that scans the area in an ultra-high-resolution photo.
The young man then opens the digital photo in Adobe Photoshop and exports it to an image processing facility in Hamburg, Germany. Within seconds, he receives an email on his Palm Pilot that the image has been processed and the data stored. He then accesses a MS-SQL database through an ODBC connected Excel spreadsheet with email on his Blackberry and, after a few minutes, receives a response.
Finally, he prints out a full-color, 150-page report on his hi-tech, miniaturized HP LaserJet printer and finally turns to the peasant and says, "You have exactly 986 pigs and piglets."
"That's right. Well, I guess you can take one of my piglets," says Ah-Kow. He watches the young man select one of the animals and looks on amused as the young man stuffs it into the trunk of his car.
Then Ah-Kow says to the young man, "Hey, if I can tell you exactly what your business is, will you give me back my piglet?" The young man thinks about it for a second and then says, "Okay, why not?"
"You're a MP for the PAP", says Ah-Kow. "Wow! That's correct," says the yuppie, "but how did you guess that?"
"No guessing required." answered the Ah-Kow, "You showed up here even though nobody called you; you want to get paid inspite of your million dollar salary for an answer I already knew, to a question I never asked.
You tried to show me how much smarter than me you are; and you don't know a thing about pigs...this is a herd of goats. Now give me back my dog."
And she unearths gems like these. Before this clip, I thought Dick Lee was some sissy who should have been bitch slapped after writing Fried Rice Paradise (nasi goreng very nice..over 40 varieties...come and eat...please please):
THE STORY OF Ah Kow, the Singaporean FARMER
Ah-Kow was overseeing his herd of animals in the last family farm in Singapore when suddenly a brand-new BMW advanced out of a dust cloud towards him. The driver, a young man in a Brioni suit, Gucci shoes, Ray Ban sunglasses and YSL tie, leans out the window and asks the peasant, "If I tell you exactly how many sows and piglets you have in your herd, Will you give me a piglet?"
Ah-Kow looks at the man, obviously a yuppie, then looks at his peacefully grazing herd and calmly answers, "Sure, Why not?" The yuppie parks his car, whips out his Dell notebook computer, connects it to his RAZR V3 cell phone, and surfs to a NASA page on the Internet, where he calls up a GPS satellite to get an exact fix on his location which he then feeds to another NASA satellite that scans the area in an ultra-high-resolution photo.
The young man then opens the digital photo in Adobe Photoshop and exports it to an image processing facility in Hamburg, Germany. Within seconds, he receives an email on his Palm Pilot that the image has been processed and the data stored. He then accesses a MS-SQL database through an ODBC connected Excel spreadsheet with email on his Blackberry and, after a few minutes, receives a response.
Finally, he prints out a full-color, 150-page report on his hi-tech, miniaturized HP LaserJet printer and finally turns to the peasant and says, "You have exactly 986 pigs and piglets."
"That's right. Well, I guess you can take one of my piglets," says Ah-Kow. He watches the young man select one of the animals and looks on amused as the young man stuffs it into the trunk of his car.
Then Ah-Kow says to the young man, "Hey, if I can tell you exactly what your business is, will you give me back my piglet?" The young man thinks about it for a second and then says, "Okay, why not?"
"You're a MP for the PAP", says Ah-Kow. "Wow! That's correct," says the yuppie, "but how did you guess that?"
"No guessing required." answered the Ah-Kow, "You showed up here even though nobody called you; you want to get paid inspite of your million dollar salary for an answer I already knew, to a question I never asked.
You tried to show me how much smarter than me you are; and you don't know a thing about pigs...this is a herd of goats. Now give me back my dog."
And she unearths gems like these. Before this clip, I thought Dick Lee was some sissy who should have been bitch slapped after writing Fried Rice Paradise (nasi goreng very nice..over 40 varieties...come and eat...please please):
And at the same 30th anniversary concert, we have Hossan, Kumar and the portion prior to his Lee Kuan YOU melody.
5.5.07
3.5.07
Foolish Games
Blast from the past. A song we all sang to as the random MP3 playlist brought it to the fore. Some feeling more than the others. Rare, this air of somberness about us:
Always felt I was outside looking in on you
You were always the mysterious one with dark eyes and careless hair
You were fashionably sensitive, but too cool to care
Well in case you failed to notice, in case you failed to see
This is my heart bleeding before you,
this is me down on my knees
These foolish games are tearing me apart
Your thoughtless words are breaking my heart
You were always brilliant in the morning
Smoking your cigarettes and talking over coffee
Your philosophies on art, Baroque moved you
You loved Mozart and you'd speak of your loved ones
As I clumsily strummed my guitar
You'd teach me of honest things
Things that were daring, things that were clean
Things that knew what an honest dollar did mean
So I hid my soiled hands behind my back
Somewhere along the line I must've gone off track with you
Excuse me, think I've mistaken you for somebody else
Somebody who gave a damn, somebody more like myself
These foolish games are tearing me apart
You're tearing me, tearing me, tearing me apart
Your thoughtless words are breaking my heart
You're breaking my heart.
Always felt I was outside looking in on you
You were always the mysterious one with dark eyes and careless hair
You were fashionably sensitive, but too cool to care
Well in case you failed to notice, in case you failed to see
This is my heart bleeding before you,
this is me down on my knees
These foolish games are tearing me apart
Your thoughtless words are breaking my heart
You were always brilliant in the morning
Smoking your cigarettes and talking over coffee
Your philosophies on art, Baroque moved you
You loved Mozart and you'd speak of your loved ones
As I clumsily strummed my guitar
You'd teach me of honest things
Things that were daring, things that were clean
Things that knew what an honest dollar did mean
So I hid my soiled hands behind my back
Somewhere along the line I must've gone off track with you
Excuse me, think I've mistaken you for somebody else
Somebody who gave a damn, somebody more like myself
These foolish games are tearing me apart
You're tearing me, tearing me, tearing me apart
Your thoughtless words are breaking my heart
You're breaking my heart.
2.5.07
Exam Excellence
Sometimes sitting through the night at the newly christened "beach", an open terrace with benches at S3.2 garners much interesting gossip. And time and time again, with the open topic of exams comes the side dish of how to approach it. To be direct, I learnt my fair share of how to cheat, who cheats and what to cheat on and what you can just forget about even scribbling notes about since it won't help.
It is not a very hush hush secret that most undergraduates cheat. Bits of paper, scribblings on erasers and protactor covers and inner linings of pencil cases. No idea it was so prevalent. Perhaps I am naive in the ways of the "Dark Arts". God bless Severus Snape. He martyred Dumbledore though. On a side note, pre-order the next Harry Potter instalment through SingPost.
So, I was asked this question "You mean you've never cheated?!?!? No wonder la, you taking so long to get through school.". Ah, now it all makes sense. All that money wasted on photocopies and prints and staplers and clips and clear files and sticky thingies. Since I think I've enough information to last me a lifetime and yet won't put it to use because of some clearly unwarranted phobia, I think sharing this wealth is apt.
How to Cheat
1. Write formulae on your forearms and wear a long sleeved jacket into the paper. When in doubt, proceed to the toilet, scroll up and mentally photograph.
2. Write on bits of paper and invisibilize it within your calculator or pencil box. Retrieve with care during the paper. Cover with question paper and NOT answer booklet because it gets turned around more. If you fear this method, just be one of the first to get to your seat when the doors swing open and then hurriedly cut and paste from this bit to the back of your question paper. Technically, you haven't committed a crime yet.
3. Write on the portion of an eraser which is covered by it's cover. Use all 4 surfaces for maximum efficiency. Also, purchase an extra large eraser so you don't attempt to set the world record for minute handwriting and ease of sight during your exam.
4. Write on inner lining of your pencil case. Do up random words and lines to make it seem like you're one of those kinda psychos who get off by liquid papering Manchester United or Metallica to show you know how to spell the names of your favoured icons.
5. Write on bits of paper and put it in the pockets of your boxer shorts. Even if you suay-suay kena check and made to empty your pockets. No invigilator typically feels the need to check your boxers or briefs. Make sure paper type in use does not irritate your ass or provide much unneeded friction under your gonads.
And the winner is...
6. True story - Wear a snow cap, since winter fashion has long been the bane of university dressing. Strategically place an MP3 player with only 1 file in it playing on loop. Pre record this file with ALL the goddamn formulas in the world you might need. Plug it into your ears. Pull your snow cap over your ears. You the man.
Precautions
Although everyone is on the bandwagon, do exercise precaution. No one likes a pretentious cheat or a disillusioned one who ends up spoiling the market.
1. When referring to folded bits of paper, usually full A4 sized ones in the cubicle, always flush before reaching for it. Sound of unfolding paper tends to resonate via ceramic tiled walls.
2. Have a nasty shit ready so no invigilator will be snooping around directly outside your door.
3. Time your visit to the toilet. Although you may not be using this person for your technique of information revelation, it may accidentally get you checked. If you are a minority, do NOT rise to go to the washroom just after another minority has returned from it. This has resulted in a full shake down of previously loved cubicle before. Observe the law of non-minority consecutivity.
4. Do not look shifty. If when you look around for the initial scoping of where the invigilators are standing, you catch one of their eyes, look extremely happy like you're on X or look extremely pained as in constipation. Do not scratch your head, look to God for answers or behave nonchalantly. This will inspire them to come to you.
5. Don't write more than you can cheat. The joy of finding out you are capable of being a full fledged uni cheat might compel you to write the entire syllabus down. Don't be daft. Like that might as well just carry in your binded notes with you right? Write only what is necessary. Don't go overboard.
Now, you have been educated. However, if like me, you still maintain stupid phobias and would rather not be shamed in front of 1500 of your peers in the 1 to a million chance of getting nabbed, just do the right thing: Help to catch a cheat. Do that, and you will be a hero and possibly need not write a single appeal letter for the rest of your stay in school.
Other worthwhile ventures are catching those bastards who don't put their pens down when the mike blares "Put your pens down". Start psychotically screaming and going at victim's throat with a sharpened 2B pencil. After connecting with jugular vein and relishing the fountain of haemoglobin that is erupting; collapse with the "What Have I Done" look plastered on your pasty face. This will earn you much brownie points as you are a person who cares about rules and regulations. You might even earn a call up into the ranks of the youth wing of the ruling party.
Adieu!
It is not a very hush hush secret that most undergraduates cheat. Bits of paper, scribblings on erasers and protactor covers and inner linings of pencil cases. No idea it was so prevalent. Perhaps I am naive in the ways of the "Dark Arts". God bless Severus Snape. He martyred Dumbledore though. On a side note, pre-order the next Harry Potter instalment through SingPost.
So, I was asked this question "You mean you've never cheated?!?!? No wonder la, you taking so long to get through school.". Ah, now it all makes sense. All that money wasted on photocopies and prints and staplers and clips and clear files and sticky thingies. Since I think I've enough information to last me a lifetime and yet won't put it to use because of some clearly unwarranted phobia, I think sharing this wealth is apt.
How to Cheat
1. Write formulae on your forearms and wear a long sleeved jacket into the paper. When in doubt, proceed to the toilet, scroll up and mentally photograph.
2. Write on bits of paper and invisibilize it within your calculator or pencil box. Retrieve with care during the paper. Cover with question paper and NOT answer booklet because it gets turned around more. If you fear this method, just be one of the first to get to your seat when the doors swing open and then hurriedly cut and paste from this bit to the back of your question paper. Technically, you haven't committed a crime yet.
3. Write on the portion of an eraser which is covered by it's cover. Use all 4 surfaces for maximum efficiency. Also, purchase an extra large eraser so you don't attempt to set the world record for minute handwriting and ease of sight during your exam.
4. Write on inner lining of your pencil case. Do up random words and lines to make it seem like you're one of those kinda psychos who get off by liquid papering Manchester United or Metallica to show you know how to spell the names of your favoured icons.
5. Write on bits of paper and put it in the pockets of your boxer shorts. Even if you suay-suay kena check and made to empty your pockets. No invigilator typically feels the need to check your boxers or briefs. Make sure paper type in use does not irritate your ass or provide much unneeded friction under your gonads.
And the winner is...
6. True story - Wear a snow cap, since winter fashion has long been the bane of university dressing. Strategically place an MP3 player with only 1 file in it playing on loop. Pre record this file with ALL the goddamn formulas in the world you might need. Plug it into your ears. Pull your snow cap over your ears. You the man.
Precautions
Although everyone is on the bandwagon, do exercise precaution. No one likes a pretentious cheat or a disillusioned one who ends up spoiling the market.
1. When referring to folded bits of paper, usually full A4 sized ones in the cubicle, always flush before reaching for it. Sound of unfolding paper tends to resonate via ceramic tiled walls.
2. Have a nasty shit ready so no invigilator will be snooping around directly outside your door.
3. Time your visit to the toilet. Although you may not be using this person for your technique of information revelation, it may accidentally get you checked. If you are a minority, do NOT rise to go to the washroom just after another minority has returned from it. This has resulted in a full shake down of previously loved cubicle before. Observe the law of non-minority consecutivity.
4. Do not look shifty. If when you look around for the initial scoping of where the invigilators are standing, you catch one of their eyes, look extremely happy like you're on X or look extremely pained as in constipation. Do not scratch your head, look to God for answers or behave nonchalantly. This will inspire them to come to you.
5. Don't write more than you can cheat. The joy of finding out you are capable of being a full fledged uni cheat might compel you to write the entire syllabus down. Don't be daft. Like that might as well just carry in your binded notes with you right? Write only what is necessary. Don't go overboard.
Now, you have been educated. However, if like me, you still maintain stupid phobias and would rather not be shamed in front of 1500 of your peers in the 1 to a million chance of getting nabbed, just do the right thing: Help to catch a cheat. Do that, and you will be a hero and possibly need not write a single appeal letter for the rest of your stay in school.
Other worthwhile ventures are catching those bastards who don't put their pens down when the mike blares "Put your pens down". Start psychotically screaming and going at victim's throat with a sharpened 2B pencil. After connecting with jugular vein and relishing the fountain of haemoglobin that is erupting; collapse with the "What Have I Done" look plastered on your pasty face. This will earn you much brownie points as you are a person who cares about rules and regulations. You might even earn a call up into the ranks of the youth wing of the ruling party.
Adieu!
1.5.07
Tent Vs Kublai Khan
So, the girlfriend and me decided to get our meat fix at The Tent in Clarke Quay. Styled as a Mongolian BBQ Restaurant, we thought it would be mighty happening and a culinary experience. Very dissapointed with the event though. I shall explain.
If you are familiar with Seoul Garden-ish, eat what you choose to eat buffets, you will see that it is ultimately the same experience but you don't do the BBQ yourself. Just one round sans soup will set you back 22 bucks and unlimited soup, salad, meat servings will set you back 32 bucks. It also caters for vegetarians by offering a salad and veggie only BBQ option. You can get a glimpse of the menu on offer and a review HERE.
Run almost entirely by North Indians or look a likes and frequented mostly by white and Indian expatriates, there lay the problem with our dining experience.
I quote "Why is it that when these Yindians come to eat outside with their whole family, always something goes wrong? Why can't they eat like normal people, without a hitch, pay their bill and go?"
The motherfuckers who stare
I as a naive boy would of course just think it that people stare because they are smitten by good looks [the girlfriend's]. However, I think it just runs deep deep into Yindian DNA to stare at anyone who doesn't resemble their 65 year old mother who looks 80. Or their 40 yr old wife who looks 75. Or their sons or daughters who look like they would have graduated from MIT by age 6, soda bottle glasses and all. Perhaps, their glasses are actually the sub continent's take on the big ass Chanel ones that are flaunted in high wealth atmospheres.
So, these 3 Northies, couldn't tell if they were expats took the seat at the opposite corner to us. We sipping on some champagne, bucket of ice and all. They with icy stares. What is their issue, I don't know. Perhaps they were just curious as to why 2 Yindians in their mid twenties would be eating at a restaurant they felt was applicable only to their credit card limit. Or perhaps, they just wanted to know where she does her hair. Or perhaps they are just irritating pricks?
So, un-disguised [more out of ineptness than to be in your face] stares and shaking heads aside, one of these ladies actually decided to check it out for herself if HER vegetarian selection was indeed cooked in a staunch vegetarian fashion. Getting the manager to walk her through the entire cooking process and convinced that different stoves were used for non-veg and veg food, she sat down with an air of achievement. Now, seriously, if you are soo anal about how your food is cooked, then don't enter any establishment that smells of marinated BBQed meat you loser! Wouldn't you be right at home at Komala Vilas? Oh wait, Tekka isn't really a "dining experience" for you is it?
The People who should just stay home
Now, this be a rant only aimed at these losers who decided to occupy a table and a half next to us. See, if you are a group of 8, or gazillion, just tell the waiter at the door and they will seat you accordingly. Comprende? Don't walk in, choose your own table, split your group in half and then leave so little walking space you are going to intrude into MY personal space.
Did I mention, my champagne on ice was standing IN the walkway between the two tables? Of course, as any decent middle aged housewife would do, they would take care to ONLY use that particular walkway because the other one would entail brushing their over inflated butts onto their own food. It is indeed much more gratifying to them to see if they can go to and fro without smashing my bottle of booze. Fuck heads!
So, the family of 8 contains little children, oldies [the grandpop looked like Gemini Ganesan for his credit] and the "bill is on me" middle aged ones. Kids running around like they found water in a desert, crying cos their food is not at the table when they walk into the place and basically digging their own snot and ingesting it is not something I pay good money to view. Middle aged mum of course goes one better. I strongly feel that the way a kid cries, like the way a dog barks is very indicative of emotion. A cry that signals hunger and a cry that signals "I don't want to be here you mofo" is also quite distinctive.
This little piss ant of a girl starts bawling her stomach out and irritating the general peace. Her mum of course, looks at her and immediately assumes [I don't know why, could be a Yindian thing] that she is crying cos she is hungry. So, her response is, "Wait wait, it is not cooked yet. Just stand here and see how it's cooked!". The mum proceeds to do that since the cooking stove is see through glass panelled. Of course, the barely 3 feet in stature kid can't really by all laws of Newtonian physics manage to peek above the 4 foot wood panelling can she? Stupid dumbfuck!
The tale continues with one of the oldies, loading up her bowl with veggies and meat, as you should, and then instead of handing it to the chef to be BBQed the hell out of, she returns to her table to tuck in to her raw minced chicken. Without the alert waiter, because no one at her table would dare question the matriarch, she would have carried on with it. Stifling laughter, another commotion was brewing. Basically if you take up the all you can eat option, you are given a silver token which you place with the food you oughta cook and it gets returned to the table you are sitting at cos the number is on the token.
But of course, if you are THEM, a token is just a token and you would have no idea why they would want to introduce a silver metallic object into the equation. Confusion occurred with some prick using someone else's token. One that that prick didn't pay for. Waiter comes to clarify and middle aged bozo spends a good fifteen minutes explaining that he was not in the wrong and that he paid for the right amount of people.
Back to my question. Why the fuck can't these fuck heads just go out, eat, pay and go home? Is it really that hard? Must there always be an incident? A confusion? A commotion?
This rant is courtesy of many many years of coincidentally and unfortunately having to dine at the same places as Yindian expats.
Were you expecting a food review? My take is; to really experience a good buffet and see meat cooked in the old Mongol way and with less confusing sauces to add to your meat, proceed to Park Mall, Kublai Khan Mongolian BBQ Buffet. Beats The Tent hands down in every area. Especially since it is more a Jap tourist hot spot than an Yindian expatriate one.
If you are familiar with Seoul Garden-ish, eat what you choose to eat buffets, you will see that it is ultimately the same experience but you don't do the BBQ yourself. Just one round sans soup will set you back 22 bucks and unlimited soup, salad, meat servings will set you back 32 bucks. It also caters for vegetarians by offering a salad and veggie only BBQ option. You can get a glimpse of the menu on offer and a review HERE.
Run almost entirely by North Indians or look a likes and frequented mostly by white and Indian expatriates, there lay the problem with our dining experience.
I quote "Why is it that when these Yindians come to eat outside with their whole family, always something goes wrong? Why can't they eat like normal people, without a hitch, pay their bill and go?"
The motherfuckers who stare
I as a naive boy would of course just think it that people stare because they are smitten by good looks [the girlfriend's]. However, I think it just runs deep deep into Yindian DNA to stare at anyone who doesn't resemble their 65 year old mother who looks 80. Or their 40 yr old wife who looks 75. Or their sons or daughters who look like they would have graduated from MIT by age 6, soda bottle glasses and all. Perhaps, their glasses are actually the sub continent's take on the big ass Chanel ones that are flaunted in high wealth atmospheres.
So, these 3 Northies, couldn't tell if they were expats took the seat at the opposite corner to us. We sipping on some champagne, bucket of ice and all. They with icy stares. What is their issue, I don't know. Perhaps they were just curious as to why 2 Yindians in their mid twenties would be eating at a restaurant they felt was applicable only to their credit card limit. Or perhaps, they just wanted to know where she does her hair. Or perhaps they are just irritating pricks?
So, un-disguised [more out of ineptness than to be in your face] stares and shaking heads aside, one of these ladies actually decided to check it out for herself if HER vegetarian selection was indeed cooked in a staunch vegetarian fashion. Getting the manager to walk her through the entire cooking process and convinced that different stoves were used for non-veg and veg food, she sat down with an air of achievement. Now, seriously, if you are soo anal about how your food is cooked, then don't enter any establishment that smells of marinated BBQed meat you loser! Wouldn't you be right at home at Komala Vilas? Oh wait, Tekka isn't really a "dining experience" for you is it?
The People who should just stay home
Now, this be a rant only aimed at these losers who decided to occupy a table and a half next to us. See, if you are a group of 8, or gazillion, just tell the waiter at the door and they will seat you accordingly. Comprende? Don't walk in, choose your own table, split your group in half and then leave so little walking space you are going to intrude into MY personal space.
Did I mention, my champagne on ice was standing IN the walkway between the two tables? Of course, as any decent middle aged housewife would do, they would take care to ONLY use that particular walkway because the other one would entail brushing their over inflated butts onto their own food. It is indeed much more gratifying to them to see if they can go to and fro without smashing my bottle of booze. Fuck heads!
So, the family of 8 contains little children, oldies [the grandpop looked like Gemini Ganesan for his credit] and the "bill is on me" middle aged ones. Kids running around like they found water in a desert, crying cos their food is not at the table when they walk into the place and basically digging their own snot and ingesting it is not something I pay good money to view. Middle aged mum of course goes one better. I strongly feel that the way a kid cries, like the way a dog barks is very indicative of emotion. A cry that signals hunger and a cry that signals "I don't want to be here you mofo" is also quite distinctive.
This little piss ant of a girl starts bawling her stomach out and irritating the general peace. Her mum of course, looks at her and immediately assumes [I don't know why, could be a Yindian thing] that she is crying cos she is hungry. So, her response is, "Wait wait, it is not cooked yet. Just stand here and see how it's cooked!". The mum proceeds to do that since the cooking stove is see through glass panelled. Of course, the barely 3 feet in stature kid can't really by all laws of Newtonian physics manage to peek above the 4 foot wood panelling can she? Stupid dumbfuck!
The tale continues with one of the oldies, loading up her bowl with veggies and meat, as you should, and then instead of handing it to the chef to be BBQed the hell out of, she returns to her table to tuck in to her raw minced chicken. Without the alert waiter, because no one at her table would dare question the matriarch, she would have carried on with it. Stifling laughter, another commotion was brewing. Basically if you take up the all you can eat option, you are given a silver token which you place with the food you oughta cook and it gets returned to the table you are sitting at cos the number is on the token.
But of course, if you are THEM, a token is just a token and you would have no idea why they would want to introduce a silver metallic object into the equation. Confusion occurred with some prick using someone else's token. One that that prick didn't pay for. Waiter comes to clarify and middle aged bozo spends a good fifteen minutes explaining that he was not in the wrong and that he paid for the right amount of people.
Back to my question. Why the fuck can't these fuck heads just go out, eat, pay and go home? Is it really that hard? Must there always be an incident? A confusion? A commotion?
This rant is courtesy of many many years of coincidentally and unfortunately having to dine at the same places as Yindian expats.
Were you expecting a food review? My take is; to really experience a good buffet and see meat cooked in the old Mongol way and with less confusing sauces to add to your meat, proceed to Park Mall, Kublai Khan Mongolian BBQ Buffet. Beats The Tent hands down in every area. Especially since it is more a Jap tourist hot spot than an Yindian expatriate one.
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