New age new age. The man is flogging deco now. Weddings, funerals, proposals, dumpings. You name it. We'll sort it out. All for a price of course.
Click HERE.
Click HERE.
3.7.08
Barberboard Confessional
I had a hair cut today. It was a normal routine. Once a month haircut which totally went against my astute principles. Principle being that you shouldn't fix what's not broke. Something the people at work try their best to smash against the brick wall daily spewing crap like "How could we have done this better", but that's a story for a thesis and not a post. Everytime I go for a haircut, a part of me dies. Be it the hidden lice only I can find [or imagine] or that last follicle screaming bloody murder.
Today, I had my hair cut by the quietest of the 3 who ply their trade at the shop. My usual dude was busy trying to figure out what the balding guy meant by "cut short". Stopping short of donning magnifying glasses, he busied himself with all the tools of his trade. He even had time for a neck rub, all in the vain bid to convince the customer his hair was not only short, it was close to negligent and thank you for the 8 bucks [yes sirree, it still costs 8 here. but people I know still feel the need to lie that they're students to lower it down to 6 dungas]
My usual dude always makes me feel like it was the Reverend Paul Mitchell [reverend cos some regard the art work as a religion]. He had this demeanor. This artist like way of moving about. Sliding on the balls of his feet. Whoosh-ing air outa the way. His blades were Ginsu knives. Thing is, he never ever said anything or did anything to make it obvious that he was apparently some artistik genius marooned in a fluorescent tube lighted HDB shophouse. But it was something. It was the atmosphere. The aura if you will.
Today, the dude who cut me spoke "no Engrish". So I had to show him how "duan" I needed my fringe to be. Unknown to me and most of the people I'm surrounded by day to day, this important component of any hair cut apparently dangled down to the lips. I did feel something smacking me on the nose during my runs this week, but I deferred it to God's presence in notifying me I had a fat nose and something needed to be done about it. [apparently, simply NOT facing straight on in photos wasn't going to cut the trick]
A few strokes and snips later, I realized I knew this guy who wasbutchering barbering my hair. It was me. At first he started with a poise that was usual of anyone attacking a new mop of untended pasture brought to their attention. Soon, I noticed that his comb-ended strokes began to take on a rhythm of monotony. How monotony had a rhythm, you only have to imagine. It was going on this way for a coupla minutes [thankfully he was at the top of my head which doesn't matter to the overall fash hag mag look].
Then suddenly he stopped short and caught himself like my angel fish realizing that brown speck was the fighting fish's excrement and not food flakes. He took charge of the situation. He pondered a split second as to why he had allowed himself to be lulled into this "same shit different head" dream/nightmare. He grabbed hold of himself. Looked again at the objective, the tools he needed to achieve it and went for it out of instinct. He repaired his earlier mis-managed but "not wrong" cuts. He decided to put his personal signature on it.
The instant I saw what was playing out like a dark drama at The SubStation, I knew this was not a guy who sweat the small stuff. [to all engrish xxxperts: does sweat have a past tense?]. I knew he was going to give me the best cut I ever had in record time. He didn't need to bandy about and exhibit haute couture style. He knew what he had to do. And he would just go ahead and do it. Some times along the way, he'd fall into this chasm. This abyss that makes him conform to what everyone was doing. That monotony. But he was gonna break out of it. Sooner or later. Be it when it pricked him enough that he had to get the tattooist to stop. Or when he heard a polyphonic SMS tone that shocked him so hard, he nearly slit his customer's throat [yours truly].
A demain.
Today, I had my hair cut by the quietest of the 3 who ply their trade at the shop. My usual dude was busy trying to figure out what the balding guy meant by "cut short". Stopping short of donning magnifying glasses, he busied himself with all the tools of his trade. He even had time for a neck rub, all in the vain bid to convince the customer his hair was not only short, it was close to negligent and thank you for the 8 bucks [yes sirree, it still costs 8 here. but people I know still feel the need to lie that they're students to lower it down to 6 dungas]
My usual dude always makes me feel like it was the Reverend Paul Mitchell [reverend cos some regard the art work as a religion]. He had this demeanor. This artist like way of moving about. Sliding on the balls of his feet. Whoosh-ing air outa the way. His blades were Ginsu knives. Thing is, he never ever said anything or did anything to make it obvious that he was apparently some artistik genius marooned in a fluorescent tube lighted HDB shophouse. But it was something. It was the atmosphere. The aura if you will.
Today, the dude who cut me spoke "no Engrish". So I had to show him how "duan" I needed my fringe to be. Unknown to me and most of the people I'm surrounded by day to day, this important component of any hair cut apparently dangled down to the lips. I did feel something smacking me on the nose during my runs this week, but I deferred it to God's presence in notifying me I had a fat nose and something needed to be done about it. [apparently, simply NOT facing straight on in photos wasn't going to cut the trick]
A few strokes and snips later, I realized I knew this guy who was
Then suddenly he stopped short and caught himself like my angel fish realizing that brown speck was the fighting fish's excrement and not food flakes. He took charge of the situation. He pondered a split second as to why he had allowed himself to be lulled into this "same shit different head" dream/nightmare. He grabbed hold of himself. Looked again at the objective, the tools he needed to achieve it and went for it out of instinct. He repaired his earlier mis-managed but "not wrong" cuts. He decided to put his personal signature on it.
The instant I saw what was playing out like a dark drama at The SubStation, I knew this was not a guy who sweat the small stuff. [to all engrish xxxperts: does sweat have a past tense?]. I knew he was going to give me the best cut I ever had in record time. He didn't need to bandy about and exhibit haute couture style. He knew what he had to do. And he would just go ahead and do it. Some times along the way, he'd fall into this chasm. This abyss that makes him conform to what everyone was doing. That monotony. But he was gonna break out of it. Sooner or later. Be it when it pricked him enough that he had to get the tattooist to stop. Or when he heard a polyphonic SMS tone that shocked him so hard, he nearly slit his customer's throat [yours truly].
"Whenever there is a hard job to be done I assign it to a lazy man; he is sure to find an easy way of doing it.” - Walter Chrysler
A demain.
Pay Donald Tsang
HONG KONG - FACED with public uproar over the high salaries of new political appointees, the Hong Kong government says competitive pay is necessary to nurture political talent.
In an effort to attract 'capable and enthusiastic candidates', Chief Executive Donald Tsang last month announced the creation of 17 government posts - eight deputy ministers and nine political assistants.
What Mr Tsang did not expect was the public furore which was to follow.
He has been criticized for providing vague job descriptions for the new appointees. The only thing he has made clear is that they will help to improve accountability and efficiency.
The government has also found itself caught in a public row over the new appointees' 'fat pay packets'.
After initially refusing to disclose salaries, citing their right to privacy, Mr Tsang last week gave in to public pressure and revealed the salaries being paid, but not who gets what.
The monthly pay for the deputy ministers is between HK$208,680 (S$36,400) and HK$223,585.
The political assistants' pay is between HK$134,150 and HK$163,960 a month.
Liberal Party chief James Tien was one of many who questioned whether some of the new appointees offered value for money.
The youngest appointee, Mr Paul Chan, 28, who has been appointed political assistant to the Health Secretary, has drawn the most attention.
His new salary, at no less than HK$134,150, is a sharp rise from his previous monthly pay package as a research assistant and part-time lecturer, estimated to be in the range of HK$20,000 to HK$30,000.
'In the civil service, it is not unusual for someone aged about 30 to have reached the rank of senior administrative officer,' the director of the Chief Executive's Office, Mr Norman Chan, told the South China Morning Post.
Mr Tsang says the public service has to offer competitive salaries in order to attract new talent.
Some political experts agree, saying that Hong Kong's ageing legislature - 24 out of 60 lawmakers are over 60 years old - needs new political talent to stay relevant.
Former senior government officials have also weighed in.
The government 'got off on the wrong foot' when it initially refused to disclose the salaries, said former treasury secretary John Chan, according to media reports.
'Even listed companies have to disclose the remuneration packages of management.'
In another embarrassment for the administration, some of the new appointees have come under fire for holding dual citizenship.
Under Hong Kong law, foreigners can 'serve as public servants... at all levels', save in a few specified posts.
Faced with public outrage for being 'unpatriotic', five deputy ministers who held dual citizenship gave up their foreign passports.
Former civil service minister Joseph Wong said the controversy was a dose of political reality for the new appointees.
'What is lawful may not be right politically. Politics is politics. It's never a privacy or a legal issue,' he said.
In a column in the South China Morning Post, Mr Wong wrote: 'Yours is a political job. And political sensitivity and ability are what you have to demonstrate to win respect, inside and outside the government.'
A comparison of the monthly salaries of some current officials and those of new appointees:
* Chief Executive Donald Tsang: HK$334,758 (S$58,400)
* Financial Secretary John Tsang: HK$298,333
* Legislative Council president Rita Fan: HK$130,526
* New deputy ministers: HK$208,680 to HK$223,585
* New political assistants, including Paul Chan: HK$134,150 to HK$163,960
This article was first published in The Straits Times on June 7, 2008.
A long time coming, this reprint, but where have we seen this all before? But no present day government has ever pulled off having a dud post called "Minister without Portfolio" with dud full ministerial pay. Still observe how far off the HK post-raised salaries are in comparison to our esteemed and royal-blood-coursing-through-veins politicians.
As I asked an astute cabbie once: "Lim Boon Heng chor simi lan?". His reply: "Chor bo lan lor!". Nuff said.
Adieu!
In an effort to attract 'capable and enthusiastic candidates', Chief Executive Donald Tsang last month announced the creation of 17 government posts - eight deputy ministers and nine political assistants.
What Mr Tsang did not expect was the public furore which was to follow.
He has been criticized for providing vague job descriptions for the new appointees. The only thing he has made clear is that they will help to improve accountability and efficiency.
The government has also found itself caught in a public row over the new appointees' 'fat pay packets'.
After initially refusing to disclose salaries, citing their right to privacy, Mr Tsang last week gave in to public pressure and revealed the salaries being paid, but not who gets what.
The monthly pay for the deputy ministers is between HK$208,680 (S$36,400) and HK$223,585.
The political assistants' pay is between HK$134,150 and HK$163,960 a month.
Liberal Party chief James Tien was one of many who questioned whether some of the new appointees offered value for money.
The youngest appointee, Mr Paul Chan, 28, who has been appointed political assistant to the Health Secretary, has drawn the most attention.
His new salary, at no less than HK$134,150, is a sharp rise from his previous monthly pay package as a research assistant and part-time lecturer, estimated to be in the range of HK$20,000 to HK$30,000.
'In the civil service, it is not unusual for someone aged about 30 to have reached the rank of senior administrative officer,' the director of the Chief Executive's Office, Mr Norman Chan, told the South China Morning Post.
Mr Tsang says the public service has to offer competitive salaries in order to attract new talent.
Some political experts agree, saying that Hong Kong's ageing legislature - 24 out of 60 lawmakers are over 60 years old - needs new political talent to stay relevant.
Former senior government officials have also weighed in.
The government 'got off on the wrong foot' when it initially refused to disclose the salaries, said former treasury secretary John Chan, according to media reports.
'Even listed companies have to disclose the remuneration packages of management.'
In another embarrassment for the administration, some of the new appointees have come under fire for holding dual citizenship.
Under Hong Kong law, foreigners can 'serve as public servants... at all levels', save in a few specified posts.
Faced with public outrage for being 'unpatriotic', five deputy ministers who held dual citizenship gave up their foreign passports.
Former civil service minister Joseph Wong said the controversy was a dose of political reality for the new appointees.
'What is lawful may not be right politically. Politics is politics. It's never a privacy or a legal issue,' he said.
In a column in the South China Morning Post, Mr Wong wrote: 'Yours is a political job. And political sensitivity and ability are what you have to demonstrate to win respect, inside and outside the government.'
A comparison of the monthly salaries of some current officials and those of new appointees:
* Chief Executive Donald Tsang: HK$334,758 (S$58,400)
* Financial Secretary John Tsang: HK$298,333
* Legislative Council president Rita Fan: HK$130,526
* New deputy ministers: HK$208,680 to HK$223,585
* New political assistants, including Paul Chan: HK$134,150 to HK$163,960
This article was first published in The Straits Times on June 7, 2008.
A long time coming, this reprint, but where have we seen this all before? But no present day government has ever pulled off having a dud post called "Minister without Portfolio" with dud full ministerial pay. Still observe how far off the HK post-raised salaries are in comparison to our esteemed and royal-blood-coursing-through-veins politicians.
As I asked an astute cabbie once: "Lim Boon Heng chor simi lan?". His reply: "Chor bo lan lor!". Nuff said.
Adieu!
13.6.08
Tai Ler Dirt Den
And I broke her heart with:
All the ways you wish you could be, that's me. I look like you wanna look, I fuck like you wanna fuck, I am smart, capable, and most importantly, I am free in all the ways that you are not.
To the dude who continously asks me when I'm gonna leave this organization:
You're not your job. You're not how much money you have in the bank. You're not the car you drive. You're not the contents of your wallet. You're not your fucking khakis. You're the all-singing, all-dancing crap of the world.
The misguided bloke who thinks he is happy where he is:
In the world I see - you are stalking elk through the damp canyon forests around the ruins of Rockefeller Center. You'll wear leather clothes that will last you the rest of your life. You'll climb the wrist-thick kudzu vines that wrap the Sears Tower. And when you look down, you'll see tiny figures pounding corn, laying strips of venison on the empty car pool lane of some abandoned superhighway
And then she said [almost verbatim, that made it all the more scarier]:
There are things about you that I like. You're smart, you're funny, you're spectacular in bed. But you're intolerable! You have very serious emotional problems. Deep seated problems for which you should seek professional help.
When in doubt, seek out Tyler Durden.
Adieu!
All the ways you wish you could be, that's me. I look like you wanna look, I fuck like you wanna fuck, I am smart, capable, and most importantly, I am free in all the ways that you are not.
To the dude who continously asks me when I'm gonna leave this organization:
You're not your job. You're not how much money you have in the bank. You're not the car you drive. You're not the contents of your wallet. You're not your fucking khakis. You're the all-singing, all-dancing crap of the world.
The misguided bloke who thinks he is happy where he is:
In the world I see - you are stalking elk through the damp canyon forests around the ruins of Rockefeller Center. You'll wear leather clothes that will last you the rest of your life. You'll climb the wrist-thick kudzu vines that wrap the Sears Tower. And when you look down, you'll see tiny figures pounding corn, laying strips of venison on the empty car pool lane of some abandoned superhighway
And then she said [almost verbatim, that made it all the more scarier]:
There are things about you that I like. You're smart, you're funny, you're spectacular in bed. But you're intolerable! You have very serious emotional problems. Deep seated problems for which you should seek professional help.
When in doubt, seek out Tyler Durden.
Adieu!
6.6.08
Paradigm Shifts
How do you shift paradigms? What the hell is a paradigm? Why do all the big fuck speeches always involve this phrase as if without saying it the speech wouldn't sound half as important?
A paradigm is simply a set of assumptions, concepts, values, and practices that constitutes a way of viewing reality for the community that shares them. Basically what you assume about what is over there, what you need to do when it is over there and what could be over here. Got it?
Now you shift it. All along till yesterday, you thought your uncle was Archangel Gabriel. Today it shifts to believing he could be a sex fiend preying on your pretty little ass and titties whenever he gives you that traditional hug-and-squeeze combo each time he comes over.
In my workplace, stuff like procedures, "the way we do things around here" and rules and regulations are so common place people take it for granted that it HAS to be there. So now and then, people do flag up stuff that they feel is totally redundant. Stuff that is done for aeons cos "this is the way things are done" that wastes time, energy and most of all the effective hours one spends at work. It's like what I do each night I stay over. Staying over AWAITING a crisis that has a 0.000001 chance of happening that night.
Of course, people bring it up from time to time. Only to be faced with the "oldies" who cite the "history" of why things are done this way. Yes, I'm aware too that some checks and balances come about with every new cock up by a human being over the years. Deal with it. Humans are naturally dumb. And the smarter ones will end up ruling the dumb ones. So shall we keep checking and restricting our way, narrowing it to just a pinhole with the vast darkness around it as a safety buffer just cos some prick managed to not think straight and logically in the 1980s? Move with the times woman! And no, it is not particularly helpful or even rewarding to you when you bitch like us and when we question "so how? can you do anything about it since you know the history and geography and the literature penned about this issue?" and you go: "This is not the time to rock the boat".
Roobs put out some fine lines on the matriarch. I've been meaning to KLKopykat them for ages. Here's my opportunity:
This paradigm thing worries me only when you are realistic in realizing that all humans are averse to change. Change being such a voracious animal and humans will always play out the gazelle in "gazelle versus pride of lions". The first few weeks I spent here last November resulted in: "He ah, never does his work swee swee. But still wanna kan people when they fuck up". This be the resistance to change. When you throw out redundancy and actually bother to ask: "Why ARE we doing this? Isn't it a job that we DON'T have to do? Don't do it just cos you've been doing it for ages or were taught to. Go have a fink about it, you batti boy."
I guess we start little by little. I went to bed the other night in the bunk [10 beds long, 2 beds wide] and the stereo was switched on. I figured it wasn't going to affect me dreary self and I would soon be speaking to God [was afraid cos we haven't spoken so long] that I just pulled up the standard green blankie, set the alarm and slept. The next dude that comes in to sleep is my driver. So, he sees me asleep and the stereo on. Thinking that I WANTED the stereo on. He left it on, no matter that he is not a really a person who can sleep with music and tried his best to snooze. Another dude enters the fray. This be my assistant. Now he sees 2 blokes sleeping with the stereo on. Again, this assumption that we both needed the music on makes him try to sleep through a very uncomfortable night cos everytime there is a rock song played, at least 2 of us toss and turn to find a better position to shut out the fuckin music.
There you have it. A basic paradigm. Shift yours while you can. Not all artists are creative and not all writers can write. For that matter, not all idiots are truly stupid, and not all professors know it all.
I found a great powerpoint on how paradigms [and stupidity] are created. Download it off here.
A paradigm is simply a set of assumptions, concepts, values, and practices that constitutes a way of viewing reality for the community that shares them. Basically what you assume about what is over there, what you need to do when it is over there and what could be over here. Got it?
Now you shift it. All along till yesterday, you thought your uncle was Archangel Gabriel. Today it shifts to believing he could be a sex fiend preying on your pretty little ass and titties whenever he gives you that traditional hug-and-squeeze combo each time he comes over.
In my workplace, stuff like procedures, "the way we do things around here" and rules and regulations are so common place people take it for granted that it HAS to be there. So now and then, people do flag up stuff that they feel is totally redundant. Stuff that is done for aeons cos "this is the way things are done" that wastes time, energy and most of all the effective hours one spends at work. It's like what I do each night I stay over. Staying over AWAITING a crisis that has a 0.000001 chance of happening that night.
Perhaps the greatest barrier to a paradigm shift, in some cases, is the reality of paradigm paralysis, the inability to see beyond the current models of thinking
Of course, people bring it up from time to time. Only to be faced with the "oldies" who cite the "history" of why things are done this way. Yes, I'm aware too that some checks and balances come about with every new cock up by a human being over the years. Deal with it. Humans are naturally dumb. And the smarter ones will end up ruling the dumb ones. So shall we keep checking and restricting our way, narrowing it to just a pinhole with the vast darkness around it as a safety buffer just cos some prick managed to not think straight and logically in the 1980s? Move with the times woman! And no, it is not particularly helpful or even rewarding to you when you bitch like us and when we question "so how? can you do anything about it since you know the history and geography and the literature penned about this issue?" and you go: "This is not the time to rock the boat".
Roobs put out some fine lines on the matriarch. I've been meaning to KLKopykat them for ages. Here's my opportunity:
i don't think i've been endowed with the innate capacity to handle so many eff ups in the span of one day,nor play the smiley yes man to the matronly authoritative figure,but i guess thats why i'm not fit to the dimensions of a civil service scholarship,not like there are extensive private sector scholarships anyway.stifling bureaucracy is when unflexible old guard is still seen as old gold.this is not the ageist speaking,but the realist speaking out against authoritarianism that does not meet the needs of efficiency,a paradox since authoritarianism is supposed to breed efficiency and subservience to the old guard,something that the civil service is certainly not doing,look at the attrition rate.Can I safely assume now that to shift paradigms you gotta wield power as a minimum start state? Can wee lil' matchstick heads actually burn your house down? To answer your question, Dear Y, on my apparent lack of ambition and waste of potential. I am in here still, in fact on the eve of my ding-dong duty onset, cos I think someone needs to put this right. I'm not gonna change it overnight. But I damn well can do what I can and it will make an impact. Don't forget, I operate by the power of the people. I don't need to hug trees or go fly out to the Dark Continent and give out condoms and medicines a la your way of doing something with your life. I don't need to be raking in the moolah now too, it channels in just fine by itself [but you fellas really gotta post the fuckin cheques quicker!] without me having to guide it.
This paradigm thing worries me only when you are realistic in realizing that all humans are averse to change. Change being such a voracious animal and humans will always play out the gazelle in "gazelle versus pride of lions". The first few weeks I spent here last November resulted in: "He ah, never does his work swee swee. But still wanna kan people when they fuck up". This be the resistance to change. When you throw out redundancy and actually bother to ask: "Why ARE we doing this? Isn't it a job that we DON'T have to do? Don't do it just cos you've been doing it for ages or were taught to. Go have a fink about it, you batti boy."
I guess we start little by little. I went to bed the other night in the bunk [10 beds long, 2 beds wide] and the stereo was switched on. I figured it wasn't going to affect me dreary self and I would soon be speaking to God [was afraid cos we haven't spoken so long] that I just pulled up the standard green blankie, set the alarm and slept. The next dude that comes in to sleep is my driver. So, he sees me asleep and the stereo on. Thinking that I WANTED the stereo on. He left it on, no matter that he is not a really a person who can sleep with music and tried his best to snooze. Another dude enters the fray. This be my assistant. Now he sees 2 blokes sleeping with the stereo on. Again, this assumption that we both needed the music on makes him try to sleep through a very uncomfortable night cos everytime there is a rock song played, at least 2 of us toss and turn to find a better position to shut out the fuckin music.
There you have it. A basic paradigm. Shift yours while you can. Not all artists are creative and not all writers can write. For that matter, not all idiots are truly stupid, and not all professors know it all.
I found a great powerpoint on how paradigms [and stupidity] are created. Download it off here.
“Our paradigm now seems to be: Something terrible happened to us on September 11, and that gives us the right to interpret all future events in a way that everyone else in the world must agree with us. And if they don't, they can go straight to hell.” - Bill Clinton [attempting to confuse the world into thinking that was NOT how the U.S. of A has been operating for the past 232 years]Oyasuminasai.
Mile High Fart
Places to bonk in mid-air? Look no further. Our fine airlines traversing the globe have good worker's quarters [do not even think about some Kaki Bukit Bangla's hostel here] for you to chat up and shag up that sweet chica in expensive batik print. Try not to smudge the lipstick, it's a real bitch to put back on so thick.
SQ
KLM
Unfortunately, Air Asia is unable to provide "full" service. Enquire within 12,000 to 15,000 feet altitude to see if a BBBJ is on the cards.
Ja-ne.
1.6.08
Hilton's Shangri-La
USS Shangri-La. War machine named after mystical utopia.Perhaps you'd be amused to know that the Annual Asia Security Summit dubbed the Shangri-La Dialogue was in fact hosted at the Shangri La Hotel Singapore. Wait, that was not amusing at all. Perhaps I should try harder. It wasn't mentioned in the mass media though, but the great security and movement of cars was too obvious not to be. So too, the ushers, caterers etc. You get the drift. Tokyo drift.
How ironic though that in the middle of discussions by Defence Ministers and high powered and ranking defence officials, nations are slaughtering, conquering, and wait get this: moving people out of relief centres because they don't want the penniless refugees to GET TOO COMFORTABLE. I was thinking, why don't they do this shit in Singapore. That will get the average apathetic to politics and socialitis citizen to friggin march to the streets and stone the culprits.
Shangri La like Atlantis is a fictional place. Many feel Timbuktu is also, but that's a myth busted mofo. I found it on the map.
Fo sho.
P.S. I am seeking anyone involved in the television industry. Anyone who understands the work processes and flows from conception of the idea to final shooting and airing. You shall be compensated in kind for this kind gift of education I seek.
How ironic though that in the middle of discussions by Defence Ministers and high powered and ranking defence officials, nations are slaughtering, conquering, and wait get this: moving people out of relief centres because they don't want the penniless refugees to GET TOO COMFORTABLE. I was thinking, why don't they do this shit in Singapore. That will get the average apathetic to politics and socialitis citizen to friggin march to the streets and stone the culprits.
Shangri La like Atlantis is a fictional place. Many feel Timbuktu is also, but that's a myth busted mofo. I found it on the map.
Shangri-La is a fictional place described in the 1933 novel Lost Horizon by British author James Hilton. In the book, "Shangri-La" is a mystical, harmonious valley, gently guided from a lamasery, enclosed in the western end of the Kunlun Mountains. Shangri-La has become synonymous with any earthly paradise but particularly a mythical Himalayan utopia—a permanently happy land, isolated from the outside world. In the novel Lost Horizon, the people who live at Shangri-La are almost immortal, living years beyond the normal lifespan. The word also evokes the imagery of exoticism of the Orient. The story of Shangri-La is based on the concept of Shambhala, a mystical city in the Tibetan Buddhist tradition.Will the Shangri-La dialogue ever be held at The Fairmont for example? [Oh wait, we REALLY don't appreciate so many name changes in such a short time to a real fuckin icon. Westin Stamford to Swissotel Stamford to The Fairmont. Do you even know that The Fairmont Group has a marjority stake in another Singapore icon, The Raffles Hotel and its stake was recently sold to a foreign investment group? How economically sound. Yet, how reflective of how we prostitute cultural icons.] Back to the original question. High chance. Especially since we all know how we snigger when we spot "Katong No.1 Laksa" in the middle of the West Coast [not L.A. but Teban]
Fo sho.
P.S. I am seeking anyone involved in the television industry. Anyone who understands the work processes and flows from conception of the idea to final shooting and airing. You shall be compensated in kind for this kind gift of education I seek.
26.5.08
Great Wave off Kanagawa
The 36 Views of Mt. Fuji by Hokusai. I need to do up this montage of the 36. I heart Great Wave off Kanagawa [above]. In a 9 by 4 rectangle. Done up all artsy and to be mounted gallery like. Anyone knows where I can go to get it done? A one stop shop thanks. Not print it here and bring it there and mount it there and bring it there and frame it there and bring it there and.... you know what I mean. Block 9 off La Salle doesn't count. Neither does Peace Centre nor that huge ass printer blokes at UOB Centre. kthxbye.
Compilation
You know I wanted to write about this whole mudderfuckin crazy week. From the nocturnalitis to the booze to the poker to the broads. But I shall digress.
This be the cast of We Will Rock You. Ruby and his stolen shot. Actually still shots aren't criminal, it's those who video it who oughta be whipped. As some shit fuck of a colonel once said "Yes, the rules are written this way. But what was the intent of them writing it that way. You must not grab one sentence or para out of context and interpret it. Interpret the orders in its entirety".Much thanks to all those who managed to turn up on Friday sans Selva. Not often we get to hijack some establishment's birthday and make it our personal fiefdom. Much love to Mavis [big jump no, admin asst to project whatchamacallit at a civil eng firm] and the rest of the faces I think I recognize but I don't remember your name because my handphone directory is full. Pre-post drunk pics are all on FB so have a go. And yes my nose is genetic.
Other than the ICJ saying, we get the lighthouse and our northern neighbours get a coupla rocks [what does one do with rocks? set up deck chairs and gaze and what could have been?], the world I guess is still hyped up over the top stories:
1. Obama vs Clinton [did she bring up Bobby Kennedy's assassination cos she was psychic?]
2. Earthquake and all natural disasters in the region [I'm going all Buddhist cos apparently only the Buddha statues survived the carnage.]
3. Holland Rd cave in due to Circle Line works [no brainer. Reference: Nicoll Highway]
4. GSS [discount coupons galore. I have one thing to say, sashay shante, shante, shante, shante - RuPaul]
This is the event I missed. And I couldn't care less. No love lost looking at the schedule in June. God bless carrying over of leave. 42 mudderfucker days yo. Fo sho.
Now don't go on and on about the GSS. The art of shopping is now for degrees, dips, certs and various "I say you do" upgrade courses. For all that you can't possibly get awarded from a foreign university for, there's Kinokuniya / Borders.
You really wanna know how to make big money out of this booming education industry? Referrals. 300 a pop. Interested already? Buzz me.
Adieu!
P.S. To the affable Priya who said such nice stuff on Friday, get in touch no?
23.5.08
Ipod vs Jaw
I shouldn't have been listening to my Ipod when you had it caught in your clamp like jaws.
I apologize.
I apologize.
Curious
This is our world now. The world of the electron and the switch; the beauty of the baud. We exist without nationality, skin color, or religious bias. You wage wars, murder, cheat, lie to us and try to make us believe it's for our own good, yet we're the criminals. Yes, I am a criminal. My crime is that of curiosity.
19.5.08
Marshal me to ERP
Started on my week long break. The hiatus from one and all. No exceptions, except pre-approved applications. I marked my last day before the break shocking the hell out of one of the aircraft marshallers we work with.
Aircraft marshallers are the dudes who wear reflective gloves, ear defenders and basically help an aircraft to park. The spot to stop is usually denoted by a little yellow T, quite impossible to guage from the cockpit of an aircraft. Hence, a little thing like the height of an aircraft has spawned thousands of jobs for a needed role. The wonders of job creation. These dudes are also often what controllers are mistaken for by old aunties and uncles and unshockingly also the younger ones like Gen X/Y-ers. A typical conversation:
Ah Soh: Boyyyyy, where you working?
Me: Air force.
Ah Soh: Pilot ah.
Me: No. Controller.
Ah Soh: Oh, the one stand in front and do like this like this one ah. [gestures hands like marshaller]
Me: No. In the glass tower.
Ah Soh: Oh, "roger roger" ah.
Me: Yes, I say it 50,000 times a day.
Fuck all youuneducated, ignorant fools.
In other news, Nal and me went on a grand dame tour. The coming of the full moon tour. Butter was boring. New Asia had typical Bhangra-ites [maybe they missed the boat to the gig at Indochine] and Attica was just too smoky. Overall we got smashed. Life's good. Pity we had to ditch the Esplanade material. There's always Google.
Do you notice that anytime guys from work or your buddies need to plan to meet or go someplace and they all drive, the conversation steers to "the route with no ERP". And then you get people with photographic memory trying to close their eyes and mentally drive through the roads in question. Hilarious but important. That 50 cents, that 1 buck goes a long way.
Never ask my Dad for directions. Firstly, it is an opening to let him do his necessary CID work. I believe he harbours an inner desire to be a cop. I relate the occurrence:
Me: Pa, how to get to Park Mall from here without hitting ERP?
Dad: What day you need to go?
Me: Weekday night, about 6 pm.
Dad: What time?
Me: I just told you.
Dad: Oh ya, will kena ERP during that time la.
Me: Don't I know that? That's why I'm asking if there's some way not to go through the gantry?
Dad: Hmmm. Ok, take CTE and come out Cairnhill.
Me: Uh huh.
Dad: Go down Scotts Road then Paterson and turn into River Valley Road.
Me: Ok.
Dad: Then go past your "area" [MS] and make a left turn at Tank Road temple.
Me: Go on. [quite impressed that I'm getting a solution here]
Dad: Then just stop before the ERP and walk over la.
Me: ???!?!#?!@?#?@!?#?!@#!@??!@$?!?#$?#$?#?$? Stop and walk!
Dad: Aiya, just take the bloody train la then don't need to worry about ERP.
Me: I give up.
You know wan. [this is for you Gina]
Aircraft marshallers are the dudes who wear reflective gloves, ear defenders and basically help an aircraft to park. The spot to stop is usually denoted by a little yellow T, quite impossible to guage from the cockpit of an aircraft. Hence, a little thing like the height of an aircraft has spawned thousands of jobs for a needed role. The wonders of job creation. These dudes are also often what controllers are mistaken for by old aunties and uncles and unshockingly also the younger ones like Gen X/Y-ers. A typical conversation:
Ah Soh: Boyyyyy, where you working?
Me: Air force.
Ah Soh: Pilot ah.
Me: No. Controller.
Ah Soh: Oh, the one stand in front and do like this like this one ah. [gestures hands like marshaller]
Me: No. In the glass tower.
Ah Soh: Oh, "roger roger" ah.
Me: Yes, I say it 50,000 times a day.
Fuck all you
In other news, Nal and me went on a grand dame tour. The coming of the full moon tour. Butter was boring. New Asia had typical Bhangra-ites [maybe they missed the boat to the gig at Indochine] and Attica was just too smoky. Overall we got smashed. Life's good. Pity we had to ditch the Esplanade material. There's always Google.
Do you notice that anytime guys from work or your buddies need to plan to meet or go someplace and they all drive, the conversation steers to "the route with no ERP". And then you get people with photographic memory trying to close their eyes and mentally drive through the roads in question. Hilarious but important. That 50 cents, that 1 buck goes a long way.
Never ask my Dad for directions. Firstly, it is an opening to let him do his necessary CID work. I believe he harbours an inner desire to be a cop. I relate the occurrence:
Me: Pa, how to get to Park Mall from here without hitting ERP?
Dad: What day you need to go?
Me: Weekday night, about 6 pm.
Dad: What time?
Me: I just told you.
Dad: Oh ya, will kena ERP during that time la.
Me: Don't I know that? That's why I'm asking if there's some way not to go through the gantry?
Dad: Hmmm. Ok, take CTE and come out Cairnhill.
Me: Uh huh.
Dad: Go down Scotts Road then Paterson and turn into River Valley Road.
Me: Ok.
Dad: Then go past your "area" [MS] and make a left turn at Tank Road temple.
Me: Go on. [quite impressed that I'm getting a solution here]
Dad: Then just stop before the ERP and walk over la.
Me: ???!?!#?!@?#?@!?#?!@#!@??!@$?!?#$?#$?#?$? Stop and walk!
Dad: Aiya, just take the bloody train la then don't need to worry about ERP.
Me: I give up.
You know wan. [this is for you Gina]
18.5.08
Kenny Sia versus Mac Dees
Kenny Sia shows why he's Malaysia's all time favourite blogger. And no, he didn't contest the General Elections. He's too busy doing photoshoots with part time models for all that. Tis be Kenny Vs. Mac Dees, or as you will see, it wasn't him per se.
Click HERE.
Enjoy.
Click HERE.
Enjoy.
The Randomizer
Random thoughts boggle. Booger woogie. Nose studs gleam like a satellite. Wisdom teeth and deep throats. No clocks in Vegas joints. KK told me KK takes 40 grand a month scamming punters on Texas Hold'Em. YKK makes millions ensuring your dick stays in your pants. Flutterby becomes Butterfly. The Lord , your God, the Lord of Hosts has two of mine. 6 toed Monroe puts her skirt down. Saw CXO at DXO. My colour state goes up and down like a whore's pants. The Marlboro owner dies of lung cancer. Smoking kills, but kills who?
Where the fuck are her eyebrows? King David used a spade, Alexander clubbed them to death, Charlemagne was Casanova to the French and Caesar's with Kanye's blood diamonds. Honey never spoils. Old wives tales are valid for old wives and beyond their time Majors. Get some, get none. Duty on duty off. Disgruntled drivers and dissident deputies. Sexy (hairless) second left-te-nants. Mao's Mein Kampf. Hydrazine is not purple. Barney is. Barney isn't gay. Dumbledore is. Godiva killed my dog. Lankans shake their heads in approval. All continents end and start with the same letter. Pangaea was Pandora's wet dream. Lick your elbows. Can't. Lick ALL your teeth. Can't. My grave has a horse with 2 legs in the air. Yankee Doodle riding fair. When I move, you move. Just like that.
Arigato gosai mashita. Domo.
Where the fuck are her eyebrows? King David used a spade, Alexander clubbed them to death, Charlemagne was Casanova to the French and Caesar's with Kanye's blood diamonds. Honey never spoils. Old wives tales are valid for old wives and beyond their time Majors. Get some, get none. Duty on duty off. Disgruntled drivers and dissident deputies. Sexy (hairless) second left-te-nants. Mao's Mein Kampf. Hydrazine is not purple. Barney is. Barney isn't gay. Dumbledore is. Godiva killed my dog. Lankans shake their heads in approval. All continents end and start with the same letter. Pangaea was Pandora's wet dream. Lick your elbows. Can't. Lick ALL your teeth. Can't. My grave has a horse with 2 legs in the air. Yankee Doodle riding fair. When I move, you move. Just like that.Arigato gosai mashita. Domo.
12.5.08
McHappy
What you waiting for?
You know wannnnnnnnnn. And what smart mofo actually managed to invent and successfully market a bun infused with maple syrup.
This is just wrong.
This is just wrong.
8.5.08
Myanmar Mire
It's the latest natural disaster to whack mankind and it's closer to home this time. Not as close as the Tsunamis but close still. The death toll is mindboggling, the number reported missing [and most probably dead too] is shocking.
Even the total fatalities recorded for Katrina wasn't as earth shattering [pardon the pun] as what the Burmese have been hit by. Expect a lot of pledging of supplies, food and medical aid to be flowing in [pardon the pun] by observers worldwide. Singapore will be expected to follow suit and not to give the game away, expect a response not unlike how we went forth to help our Southern neighbours during the Boxing Day Tsunami.
The Yangon government though does not seem to be pulling it's weight well enough to be assisting it's citizens quick enough. But wait, this is a charge leveled at every governmental body through every other disaster. Bureaucracy's a bitch to move. And the gears lack good ol' SINGER oil most of the time. The "holy art thou" Buddhist monks have rallied together with the locals to remove trees [which block roads], provide what little aid they can provide and assist survivors to relocate or locate lost belongings and family. Cambodia should take a leaf from this. Don't hurt the monks. They are useful in times of need.
To offer your own aid, please choose reputable organizations and not any tom, dick and harry motherfucker who rattles a recycled aluminum tin under your nose to catch your dripping mucus in this searing heat.
My personal suggestions:
International Federation of Red Cross and Red Crescent
World Vision
Credible and donations can be via credit card, cheque, wired transfers or any other means listed in their webbies.
The Myanmar Embassy website ought to have been the first cut to information about the disaster their country is facing and the subsequent aid relief efforts, but it is a highly dissapointing site to visit. The only news about the relief effort is hidden in a nook and when you click that link, you get HERE.
Nuff said. The power of the Internet has still not permeated through politicians worldwide. And it's not only the Malaysians who are finally wising up to it.
God Bless.
Even the total fatalities recorded for Katrina wasn't as earth shattering [pardon the pun] as what the Burmese have been hit by. Expect a lot of pledging of supplies, food and medical aid to be flowing in [pardon the pun] by observers worldwide. Singapore will be expected to follow suit and not to give the game away, expect a response not unlike how we went forth to help our Southern neighbours during the Boxing Day Tsunami.
The Yangon government though does not seem to be pulling it's weight well enough to be assisting it's citizens quick enough. But wait, this is a charge leveled at every governmental body through every other disaster. Bureaucracy's a bitch to move. And the gears lack good ol' SINGER oil most of the time. The "holy art thou" Buddhist monks have rallied together with the locals to remove trees [which block roads], provide what little aid they can provide and assist survivors to relocate or locate lost belongings and family. Cambodia should take a leaf from this. Don't hurt the monks. They are useful in times of need.
To offer your own aid, please choose reputable organizations and not any tom, dick and harry motherfucker who rattles a recycled aluminum tin under your nose to catch your dripping mucus in this searing heat.
My personal suggestions:
International Federation of Red Cross and Red Crescent
World Vision
Credible and donations can be via credit card, cheque, wired transfers or any other means listed in their webbies.
The Myanmar Embassy website ought to have been the first cut to information about the disaster their country is facing and the subsequent aid relief efforts, but it is a highly dissapointing site to visit. The only news about the relief effort is hidden in a nook and when you click that link, you get HERE.
Nuff said. The power of the Internet has still not permeated through politicians worldwide. And it's not only the Malaysians who are finally wising up to it.
God Bless.
7.5.08
End of the World
The end of the world inspires such great creative thought all around. Check out this great anime-skit.
http://www.endofworld.net/
Follow this by reading Nostradamus and trying to decipher if all his verses truly had mega poetic license going on or was he so literal that he shouldn't have been classified a prophet. We all know all the great prophets never said things straight.
Adieu!
6.5.08
3.5.08
Batam Bambinos
And so once upon a time, four chicanos headed off to the lost land of Batam, one of a thousand islands our southern neighbours had to offer. Rife with rumours of 12 year old sex, second wives [we actually spotted the condo the ah peks put up their sidelines at] and cheapo currency, we let Courier [name protected in case he gets lynched] make the booking.
Alas, this was a man who did not comprehend that the RATIONALE of wanting to go to a 3rd world nation, was so we could spend less and achieve the same. He however was a 5 star traveller. He eats Michelin stars for breakfast, we however make do with Nestle HoneyStars.
The main event was to learn how to ski/wakeboard. Not slow and steady tugged by a powerboat that has seen its beautiful days lost to the algae, but by a cable, to a winch to a circular circuit. Pulled off your ass at breakneck speed, expected to keep your balance and STILL manage some X-Games tricks along the way.
This was not an adventure for the wary. Sore butts, torn groins and boobs popping out of ye bikini tops was all so common. It's no wonder it's fully booked. You pay to get slammed into water. I mean that should be a sport by itself. We'd do famously.
Oh, I haven't introduced the rest of the cast. There was Courier, Jekyll. Nigel [he didn't read The Game so he didn't get awarded a callsign], and me. We tried and tried and tried. Twas like a course we all were so used to hearing about. SCSC. Some Can, Some Cannot.
Courier could. And how lucky we actually figured out how to use the damn video function on the camera in time.
Nigel on his 2nd time around still couldn't. So much for "if you fail, try and try again" and "practise makes perfect". He wasn't reading the right books.
I'd love to talk more about the massage with excruciating pain inflicted on untested soles of feet. The next time someone claims they know reflexology, make sure they don't own a blunt object to dig your pressure points with. I'm sorry, I still managed to sleep amidst all that. How immune to pain, some people can be.
Ultimately, although we spent more then we should, like typical Singapore wankers. I still had a blast. Thanks KJ. Fuck you Courier, for your room that had a jacuzzi while ours only had a bath, fuck you cos you had a safe while mine was "invisible". Haha. And the next time you want to "stay for one more beer" at PP Banana [apparently the island's only lapdance joint], I'll make sure you get the company of Cicy for the rest of your stay.
Full photo stream at:
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2860&id=227800219
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2858&id=227800219
Adieu!
Alas, this was a man who did not comprehend that the RATIONALE of wanting to go to a 3rd world nation, was so we could spend less and achieve the same. He however was a 5 star traveller. He eats Michelin stars for breakfast, we however make do with Nestle HoneyStars.
The main event was to learn how to ski/wakeboard. Not slow and steady tugged by a powerboat that has seen its beautiful days lost to the algae, but by a cable, to a winch to a circular circuit. Pulled off your ass at breakneck speed, expected to keep your balance and STILL manage some X-Games tricks along the way.
This was not an adventure for the wary. Sore butts, torn groins and boobs popping out of ye bikini tops was all so common. It's no wonder it's fully booked. You pay to get slammed into water. I mean that should be a sport by itself. We'd do famously.
Oh, I haven't introduced the rest of the cast. There was Courier, Jekyll. Nigel [he didn't read The Game so he didn't get awarded a callsign], and me. We tried and tried and tried. Twas like a course we all were so used to hearing about. SCSC. Some Can, Some Cannot.
Courier could. And how lucky we actually figured out how to use the damn video function on the camera in time.
Nigel on his 2nd time around still couldn't. So much for "if you fail, try and try again" and "practise makes perfect". He wasn't reading the right books.
I'd love to talk more about the massage with excruciating pain inflicted on untested soles of feet. The next time someone claims they know reflexology, make sure they don't own a blunt object to dig your pressure points with. I'm sorry, I still managed to sleep amidst all that. How immune to pain, some people can be.
Ultimately, although we spent more then we should, like typical Singapore wankers. I still had a blast. Thanks KJ. Fuck you Courier, for your room that had a jacuzzi while ours only had a bath, fuck you cos you had a safe while mine was "invisible". Haha. And the next time you want to "stay for one more beer" at PP Banana [apparently the island's only lapdance joint], I'll make sure you get the company of Cicy for the rest of your stay.
Full photo stream at:
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2860&id=227800219
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2858&id=227800219
Adieu!
1.5.08
Audit Cx
Dear Alexis, no matter how much you stir me to sign off the way I sign on my credit card; I insist that initialing in the log book is A-Ok this way, as long as I always initial the same way. So, quit it. It's pretty irritating already darling. And keep the tupperware container the kueh lapis came in. My mum buys and stores them, I donate them for the good of mankind.
Nuff said.
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