clipping of the sun

memories

The following entry might probably seem rather offensive to my gay friends who do read my blog but judging from past posts where I would never be afraid to poke fun even at my own stupidity, do take this lightly with a tinge of humour. If not, it’s seriously better to skip this altogether.

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As a sort of routine that I engage in these days to catch up on daily affairs during lunch hour, a trip to a corner convenience store would be mandatory almost everyday… to pick up a copy of the daily newspaper…

The slow walk in the brisk afternoon sun would be a redeeming moment in a long day in the confines of the office, in the land where sunlight is the one precious commodity even money can’t buy…

As gossips and football news spilled out of the pages, this was one article which caught my eye and kind of made me laugh.

No, it wasn’t even a joke… just a simple statistical report done by Barclays Bank, as part of their usual tally-ups at this time of the year I would presume…

I am not homophobic nor am I against homosexuals... I was just wildly thinking how I could crazily and imaginatively comprehend this figure closer to reality; in other words, what does 3.6 million mean in my head?

Let’s see…

1. the whole of the Singapore population being homosexual – your friends, your teachers, your neighbour, your mama-shop uncle, the ah bengs & lians in the void deck, the bus driver, your dog,… and yes, probably that includes even parents (WOAH)

1. all cows in New Zealand would mate and procreate as nature would deem fit, but are in fact secretly homosexual and believe they are half-hobbits in search of the One Nipple Ring to free them all…

Coming back to reality, these 2 points are very closely related to each other in my head… and i’m talking about the relationship between the population figures of Singapore and that of cows in New Zealand…

it shook my memories of a seemingly simplistic advert I watched on tv in my secondary school days…

it all boils down to this old tv promotion made by Fernleaf a very long time ago that went something like this, "There are 3.5 million cows in New Zealand, just as there are that many people in Singapore"

or maybe I am wrong, it’s 3 million at the time of the commercial…

the subtle message I understood then was often passed off as a joke among my friends then… if you were one of them, maybe you will understand it now since I’m bringing it up again…

I hope you do... because I am most certainly not explaining it… not when it’s already quite so obviously insulting…

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Do not fear, I am not in a bad mood… I’m just reminiscing.

the bottled revenge

My colleagues have been telling me that I am too thin…

I certainly do admit that I could gain some muscle mass, or fat in any case, especially when winter this year is predicted to be the worst in many years…

However, the derelict twist of events this evening has had me consoling myself for my waistline….

since yesterday, I have had the strongest urge to drink the bottle of red wine that I bought a couple of days ago…

largely because of the fact that I am anal about the way I drink wine, I convinced myself that I must head down to Marks & Spencers to get some proper red wine glasses to drink from… as I didn’t have any in the flat.

Thus happily I skipped along and did a little of grocery shopping, walked back gaily with a grin on my face… and I froze, dead in my tracks.

My left back pocket of my jeans was empty. Fuck.

a bunch of tinkling metal objects, better known as my house keys, were not there in its usual place in my jeans… such a predicament any other night would easily be rectified, for my flat-mates were usually home at this time.

One was still in Cambridge while the other is out partying, probably till late…

In a state of utter shock, I hung my plastic bag of groceries on my door knob and in a stupor, headed across the street to the convenience store, got myself a can of beer and walked a little around the neighbourhood contemplating about the mysteries of the universe…

In other words I was truely devastated but ultimately, alcohol proves yet again to be a good trauma treatment and bringer of the light as a brilliant, but utterly ‘lost form’ idea sprung to mind…

I know, for certain that I did not lock my kitchen window, which is accessible from my backyard, nicely hoarded by a neat row of wooden planked fence…

Yes, I live on the ground floor.

Yes, I could climb over the 1.6m high wooden fence into my backyard.

Yes, no one would probably see me and think I’m a burglar as it’s dark

All these thought and done, the crucial obstacle remains :

The fucking window swings open a mere 15 centimetres…

So not before I took off my thick winter coat, removed my fat wallet, unbuckled my Fossil watch and removed my belt, did I successfully heaved myself through the miserable window gap and stand victoriously atop my kitchen sink…

My bottle of red has never tasted sweeter…

the new pics

My photoblog has recently-added pics of the silly night out… take a peek here!

dangerous liaisons

Woke up late this morning and yet I suddenly feel like writing so here I am, in front of my laptop, while I halplessly watch the invisible hands of my digital clock click minute after minute away…

My boss might kill me today afterall…

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Went for a party-of-sorts over the weekend, Saturday to be more precise, and a school-themed party to be even more precise… thus everyone had to dress up in school uniforms in order to head in… kinky indeed… wink.

I wore a plain white shirt with just a black blazer with matching black pants, white sports shoes , a loose tie and together with my flat-mates, headed for a dinner at an Italian restaurant near our place to start of the evening. I realized the folly of not wearing a coat the moment the chilly winds started to ruffle through my hair. Stupidity.

I have to admit dinner was rather entertaining, largely credited to a Brit guy with a weirdest accent who was sitting right beside me, who joked through the evening. He gathered quite a few laughs as he recounted certain adventures of his as he traveled around some parts of the world, being mistaken for a spy at one point and having mugged by a monkey.

Yes, an animal.

A small and rather insignificant part of the dinner was also entertained by a Hongkong fellow who goes by the name of Alex… I have honestly, cross my heart, never met any, not one, aeronautical engineer who has impressed me with a slightest hint of normalcy… very strange profession with very strange people, I figure…

the other such engineer I remember was a fellow I knew in army… we tried to accept him for who he was but deep know, we kinda ostracized him a little from time to time.. you can guess how weird he must have been…

I know some very self-absorbed individuals you can say, myself to be in the least.

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the evening sorta gathered pace after that and before long, we realized that we were the only orientals in the club. ( I have never really yet gotten used to being an oriental, for reasons of the coined term bringing up images of a Chinese in pigtail with long imperial robes in a folded arm posture )

I must say the place is a guy’s paradise, with free flow of boobs and asses, concealed just ever so nicely in those tight white tops and short pleated cross-hatch skirts… coupled with the constant brush against some unknown female who’s trying to make her way across the dance floor…

Yes I know, stereotypically, all guys like such cheap thrills…

but I dare say our girls got a bad deal as they were probably groped all through the night as a result of being placed in the same arena as a few hundred of those depraved English males, as they never failed to try to hook up with our girls in their vain efforts to get laid for the night I presume… hiaks

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for a split second on that dance floor I thought I would get a fight on English soil…

As I was making my way across the dance floor trying to look for my friends, another bloke hurriedly walked right into me and we sorta collided rather abruptly.

However disorientating he might have thought that could have been for me, he was very wrong as I felt his left hand moved deftly into my right side pocket and whisk away my mobile… I must admit he was damn fast…. But surely he needs some more work on those hands og his...

Instincts & reaction kicked in immediately as I grabbed the fellow’s wrist so hard he dropped my mobile to the ground. Yes my Sony Ericsson T630. Fucker. He prompted winched and gave the most apologetic face he could probably muster in a single spontaneous moment...

Well I was more or less prepared to throw in a punch or two if it came to that… well I might have been left dead on the ground probably since he was slightly bigger and definitely more well-built.. but he backed away and so, that was that.

Pity…