A Chinese Girl

Japanese song no lyrics wa baka desu!

2006-08-25T00:08:00.000-07:00

You know, for some reason that I can't fathom, Asian songwriters like to put English lyrics into their songs. Like, they'll have "blah blah blah love you ooh" 'love you' being the only two English words in a whole mambojambo...and then they'll call the song 'Love You'. Which is perfectly fine, I guess, if the lyrics make sense. The sad part is that most of these songwriters don't even have primary school standard of English. Check out these English lyrics below, taken from Japanese songs: (note: there's a lot of Japanese stuff in between the sentences) Try reading them out. More hilarious that way.

+ Million but - Love

Heart
Your sexy eyes
No matter what I give
You screw me up
+ Million but - love
Going down down --> going down where?
Tell me what's love?
I'm a FOOL --> yeah, for singing this song.

Deep in your heart

How deep is your heart? --> er, about 10cm from my neck, I suppose?
Deep inside the darkness
Want to feel
Reached out to your heart, so deep --> what is a 'deep heart'?
How deep is this love?
Deep inside your heart --> this songwriter must have learned the word 'deep' earlier in the day and was eager to showcase his vocabulary.
I have so many secrets
maybe more than you
I wanna know your little secret --> KAYPOH!
that you have deep in you
Reached out in the dark, so warm
How deep is your heart?
Deep inside the darkness
Somewhere unknown and special --> it's inside the ribcage, lah.

Diamond Wave

long time, so blue, green, with you yeah
This is the heaven, oh yeah
You just follow your way
This is our spirits --> 'this is our spirits'?
I feel now and let's move on
Oh I will let you know
Please show me seeds of love --> How to show seeds of love?
Diamond Wave shiny eyes --> I catch no ball.
We've got going on, my dream forever
This is our spirits --> Argh. Do they not know singular and plural tenses?
I feel now and change the world --> What meaning?
Oh I will let you know --> know what? Wakarunai.

I'm Gonna SCREAM+

Ooh My Sweet Candy pop --> my sweet candy poo. heh heh!
Shining in my hand --> if candy shines, that means you must've..er. licked it.
"Where are you hiding?" --> who said anything about hiding?
that tells me where Ghost is --> Ghost? simi ghost?
I wish the stars --> you mean, you wish on a star.
Deadly darling --> is she deadly or darling?
Let me show you that "I need U" everytime I
I have been waiting for
Scary night --> scary movie! heh heh
Let's play my game
Deadly darling
Let me take you there, yeah baby
I have been waiting for scary night
I'm Gonna SCREAM+

Ooh yeah I'm gonna SCREAM+
I have been waiting for your smile
So Let's play my Game
I'm Gonna SCREAM+
Let me you that "I need U" "I Wanna be"
I'm Gonna SCREAM+ ---> SCREAMING ALREADY!
Let me take you there, yeah baby
"I wanna be free" --> first you say you're waiting. Then you say you wanna be free. Make up your mind lah.
I'm Gonna SCREAM+ ---> and I'M gonna scream if I have to continue read these lyrics.
Gonna SCREAM+

Real Face

Ha-Ha
Joker
Doop na Rhyme de
Show Time
West Side East Side
Hands up!
To go Through fire and water
The low of the jungle --> 'The low of the jungle.' Doesn't that mean snakes, insects, dead leaves...?
So we never lost --> Hhahahahahaha
Sneaker, Speaker, Diva --> Wow! This guy can rhyme!
Koko no key Right?
Big Star, East Side,
West Side, Big Time --> Big time leh!
Time lost can't be recalled --> *gasp* you're telling me!
Faith come move mountain --> Absolute disregard for grammatical particles, I see.
J-O-K-E-R Yeah
Wake up, wake up, make up --> Hahahahahaha
Play back, make bounce --> make bounce, leh!
Shine on
Failure teaches success --> yay! Let's fail some more!
So I wanna believe --> believe what?
The die is cast --> simi die? simi cast?
So we have to go --> ya, quickly go!

My theory is that these songwriters just plonk all their earthly vocab together in a song and hope that it makes sense.
They should hire me to be songwriter. Yeah! Make bounce! Make spin! Bake tin! Together we go! We go scary night! Yeah! Night Flight Light Dike! Time lost we go jungle! Heart deep secret want to know!

Watashi wa Japanese songwriter da yo!

My dog is my husband

2006-07-31T08:16:00.000-07:00

Hey people, visit this website:

http://marryyourpet.com

Next time your doggie greets you at the door...you may not look at him in the same way again.

I can only say...this gives the word 'cross-breed' a whole new meaning, dood.

Mouthfully Ignorant

2006-07-12T06:27:00.000-07:00

I don't get it when some angmohs say "I hate Chinese food."

Oi, hallo. You know what you talking anot?

You eat what kind of Chinese food? Mayonnaise with soy sauce chicken is it? Or your what octopus and eel with rice? Even if you say "But the local Chinese restaurant is set up by authentic chef from Hong Kong one" your menu got how many dishes?

Please lor. You don't anyhow go and talk dunno what nonsense.

Honestly, I wouldn't even dare presume to say "I hate American food" or any other (insert nationality) food. Worse still if you say you hate Chinese food, which makes you sound like an absolute fool. To make your words hold water, you must have tasted at least 100 dishes out of the thousands of Chinese dishes available and have hated at least 80 of them. And you know what? I don't think you can name even 30 dishes, let alone 100.

Chinese food isn't, no matter what you may think, all soy sauce and sweet and sour. It has 5000 freaking years of history. If you hate spicy, it has bland. If you hate sweet, it has sour. If you hate bitter, it has salty. If you hate fish, it has chicken. If you hate chicken, it has beef. If you hate beef, it has prawn. If you hate prawn, it has pork. And so on goes the list. Don't tell me you hate every single vegetable/meat in the world? Because if you hate chicken, beef, prawn, pork, etc. there is ostrich and xiang rou for you to try, want anot?

I don't think any of those culture-starved, ignorant people have ever tasted or even imagined the following:

Chilli crab, soaked in an orange-red sauce, with hot steaming buns on the side.

Sliced toufu stewed with prawn and pork.

Chilli kangkong.

Fish steamed with black beans and served with tasty gavy.

Stir-fried chicken drumsticks dipped into sweet hot chilli.

Claypot rice (cooked over real claypot stove) with chicken, salted fish, and vegetables.

Sliced beef with garlic and pepper.

Slices of pork wrapped inside a hot mantou with sweet gravy rolling over the sides.

Round pieces of toufu sizzling on a hotplate with egg lining the sides and bottom.

But nooo...all they know is some pieces of sweet and sour pork, some steamed fish here and there, some weird angmoh-ized concoction of meat particles and then they proudly declare "I hate Chinese food!"

Fine, dismiss the nationality of food with the largest variety in the world, that has been 5000 years in the making, with every seasoning and ingredient and taste you can think of, (and new ones being constantly invented) just because you have this misconception of what Chinese food is about. And you know what? You probably don't deserve to have your taste buds straightened out, anyway.

Rainy Days and Mondays

2006-07-09T20:47:00.000-07:00

rainy days and mondays always get me down

Today is both rainy AND a Monday.

I am so tired of internship.

Let me count the ways.

Tired of waking up in the morning and knowing my whole day is gone even before I've lived it.

Tired of waiting for that condemned bus service 93, the slowest and idiot-est bus service ever.

Tired of sitting at my office comp with the blurry screen and slow processing speed.

Tired of using stupid online MSN that always cuts me off.

Tired of being in an office surrounded by industrious looking people tip-tapping on their keyboard.

Tired of being the only zuobo one among industrious looking people.

Tired of the Mediacorp canteen.

Tired of hash brown with rice.

Tired of ice milo and soya bean milk and chin chow.

Tired of Ms Resident Evil and her gawd-awful voice.

Tired of having to pretend like I'm working when everyone knows I'm not.

Tired of having a speaker-less computer.

Tired of being stuck in an air-con place with high-up windows for 9 hours every day.

Tired of being referred to as "the intern(s)".

Tired of being below the bottom of the foodchain.

Tired...tired...tired...moody and tired.

Of course it's not to say that I desire school. School has more nasty people and less nice people than the office. There are definitely fun times like mixing around with v. nice colleagues and acting like an idiot. But mostly I'm dying to get out of here. This ugly half-purple office with lousy computers. And there are five more weeks to go!

Five weeks isn't a long time. Nooo it's not. I mean, it's less than a term. Only one month + one week. They're already practising for National Day. They're advertising concerts that will take place after my internship ends. Heck we talk about late August and September already don't we? It's not long....not long...

5 weeks = 35 days.
I only work weekdays soo...
5 x 5 = 25 days
Only 25 working days more to tahan.

Recipe for an Enid Blyton adventure novel

2006-07-06T20:52:00.000-07:00

Ingredients
2 x boys, brave, good-looking and humourous
2 x girls, one boyish and one who cries all the time
1 x pet, in form of dog, parrot, or other such amusing but useful animal
2 x parents, do not mind their pre-pubescent kids running all over country
2 x villains, ugly, thick-necked, black-browed, scarred creatures who constantly underestimate children
1 x policeman, burly, friendly and does not underestimate children
1 x random child, gets in the way of abovementioned boys/girls but does good in the end

(pick one based on preference)
1 x robbery
1 x kidnapping
1 x counterfeiting
1 x smuggling
1 x treasure hunt
1 x stranded on deserted island/lonely valley/middle of nowhere
1 x landing in the midst of enemy planes
1 x runaway children
1 x circus/fair event

(pick five or six based on preference)
1 x ginger cake
1 x pudding
1 x tongue
1 x jar of honey
5 x sandwiches, all different kinds
1 x exotic circus food from big steaming pot cooked by old witchlike woman
5 x bread and butter
1 x salt and pepper in screw of paper
5 x macaroons
5 x tomatoes
5 x cucumbers
5 x ginger beer
5 x lemonade

(pick one based on preference)
1 x tied up
1 x locked in a room
1 x blocked into underground cave
1 x threatened by ugly villains

(pick two or three based on preference)
1 x push newspaper under locked door to collect key
1 x use orange juice to write invisible ink
6 x get dog/parrot to nip ugly villain
1 x write name differently at end of note to signal trap
1 x hear gunshot and cry
1 x disguise selves in manner of rocks or other environmental elements

Procedure

1. School holidays begin. Four children + pet proceed either to home or holiday destination.
2. 4 children + pet eat fat ices.
3. At holiday destination, plump smiling bustling farm lady brings out feast to feed 50 people, 4 children + pet polish up the plates and 1) grumble about school food, 2) wonder why farmers' wives always make good cooks.
4. 4 children + pet are taken to mysterious rooms with all sorts of hollowed panels and chests with false bottoms that lead to secret tunnels.
5. Random child follows 4 children + pet around, cannot be shaken off.
6. 4 children + pet encounter exciting old man who tells tales about the wicked deeds of the old days.
7. 4 children + pet have scrumptious lunch, bathe and eat fat ices.
8. Enter ugly villains.
9. 4 children + pet discover secret tunnels through hollowed panels/false bottoms etc.
10. Discover devious plan by ugly villains in manner of kidnapping/smuggling/looting/etc.
11. Crying girl does not want adventure.
12. Boys set out in the night to twart evil plans and get caught by ugly villains.
13. Boys are tied up. Write note to girls with names changed at the bottom.
14. Random child arrives and opens bolted door, unties boys.
15. Girls + pet show up, pet nips ugly villains.
16. Nice policemen arrive and say "what a neat little haul! Hallo, who have we got here? xxx! Larger than life and twice as natural, I see!"
17. 4 children + pet + random child settle down to huge meal prepared by plump smiling farmer's wife who was worried to death about them.

Screamy girls...oh, my ears!

2006-06-30T07:35:00.000-07:00

Yesterday night, my ears were subjected to the most horrific and nightmarish ordeal that ears should never ever be allowed to go through...I was surrounded by pre-puberty screeching fangirls.

To be clearer, let me explain exactly what happened.

One of the journalists, Humps (not his real name), was sent to cover the Wildcard Results show. So, having two tickets, he invited either EI (Exploited Intern) or I along. EI originally chop ticket first but was then transferred to morning shift so I said I'd go in her place. We arrived at the studio at about 6:45 and sat there in the pleasant cool silence of the empty seats around us, chatting away. After a while, another journo, J.Pee, comes up and sits down beside us. He has links to one of the contestants so he was there as a friend.

At 7:30 I was wondering to Humps and J.Pee whether anyone was going to come. If got empty studio, how?

Then SUDDENLY...like a tsunami wave...from nowhere...this bunch of excited, screeching convent girls leaped...and I mean leaped...onto the chairs beside and around us, drowning us in a myriad of bewildering and very scary noises. I clutched dizzily at Humps' arm, requesting for a change of seat. But Humps was too fascinated...also, he was under the delusion that he was as screamy and hyper as the Screeching Girls so he took a fancy to them. So J.Pee and I mustered up our courage to face the lions with calmness.

At first they were still not so bad. Disguised as innocent secondary school girls (and by the way I think they got a group rate because it was like some bloody school excursion for them), they looked perfectly harmless. Of course they didn't sound harmless but J.Pee assured me they wouldn't be able to keep up the screaming for long.

And boy oh boy, J.Pee, were you ever wrong, my friend.

When Gurmit Singh and Daniel Ong appeared onstage, Screeching Girls went about 40 decibels higher, thereby shattering 1/10th of my eardrums. I don't really remember what they were screaming, I guess I couldn't catch it. Cause you know, when you have about 40 voices screeching different things at the same time, the words just kinda get mixed up in a mass of strangled, incoherent sounds. I think even Humps began to reconsider the wisdom of remaining in his seat. But the studio was somewhat filled and there was no escape route.

Then the contestants appeared, and immediately Screeching Girls went 100 decibels higher. They weren't even supporting any one contestant, they were screaming for everyone! Paul, Geraldine, Jonathan, Gayle, Matilda...you name it! J.Pee and I exchanged pained looks. Humps leaned forward trying to catch what the people on the stage were saying, but we couldn't hear a bloody thing. Not. A. Single. Bloody. Thing.

By the time the programme was drawing to an end, I had officially lost half of my hearing ability and felt as drained as a puppet without strings. I now feel that I have a very intimate understanding with the idols who have to hear screaming like that every day.

As Humps had a backstage appointment, we hurried off as Jay was sobbing into his microphone, surrounded by the other friendly and supportive Top 11. I swear I could still hear Screeching Girls in my head.

What was left of the night was devoted to waiting around for the four lucky contestants to come out for their interviews. They took a long time. The promotions person was really apologetic when 10 o' clock appeared on the horizon and nary a hair of the hunted interviewees.

"Do you think we can do a phoner?" asked tired journo no.1
"hmm..." promotions person hesitated.
"Can we write in our article that we spent 45 minutes waiting in the cold for them and had no choice but to leave?" asked tired journo no.2

But in the end they did appear, and after the interviews, I rode home in a taxi with tired journo no.1, with Screeching Girls still in my head.

Lesson of the day: If you love yourself, never, ever, stay within 50 feet of Screeching Girls during a concert.

Be enriched

2006-06-28T03:16:00.000-07:00

I tell you, riding on public transport can be a very enriching/funny/annoying experience.

As you’ve probably guessed, Putrans (public transport) and I are very good friends. We’ve been through thick and thin together. I’ve known Putrans since I was a very young kid…well, young enough to be out of the house without catching cold and dying. I’ve done all sorts of things on Putrans; I’ve gossiped with girlfriends, cried, dozed, gazed out of the windows, read, dreamed, imagined…yes, Putrans and I are very good friends.

Though of course, like in all friendships, I have many things to gripe about with Putrans. That’s normal. But for today, I’m not griping about Putrans. I’m griping about the people who ride on Putrans with me.

Yesterday morning, while I was on 93 on the way to work, we stopped at a bus stop near SPH. The doors swished open. A middle-aged auntie stood at the steps, ready to ‘teet’ her card and exit the vehicle. But she didn’t. Instead, she began searching furiously in her voluminous bag. Everyone waited for a few minutes, patiently, then faces started turning round. No-Card Auntie was still searching for her card, with a very sheepish grin on her face, as though it was a funny situation. Hallo, not funny, ok? Why never get out card before you reach your bus stop? Haiyoh.

Then, with another very sheepish grin, she turned around, put down her bag on the nearest seat, and started rifling through the umbrella, books, make-up purse, daughter’s report cards, husband’s birthday present, Zao bao, cooking utensils, cutlery, plates, cups, chairs, tables…

Until finally Got-Card Auntie produced her wallet and, triumphantly, ‘teet’-ed her way out.

The hasty operation took about five minutes.

True to form, the ‘mind your own business’/‘very shy lah’ Singaporeans didn’t utter a single word of reproof throughout the entire painful process. In fact, we were all very polite, simply looking on as No/Got-Card Auntie looked through her worldly possessions. But you could just feel the disapproval radiating from us, like in airwaves, you know? That’s what Singaporeans do. We’re subtle.

Today had a very interesting, thought-provocative discussion during lunch. We embarked on the very serious topics of strange marriages, hot Aussie guys wanting to ‘muscle’ Asian girls, psycho schoolmates, and stereotypical Chinese dramas.

Amazingly intellectual, ne? I think so myself too. Feel very enriched now. Have broad-minded views of the wide kaleidoscope of environment that we are living in. Am woman of useful knowledge and enthralling conversation.

Anyway, here are some interesting stories we shared, all true unless otherwise stated or unstated by their respective tellers.

1) A woman was standing outside a lift when the doors opened. Inside was a man. They looked at each other. Felt a ‘weird connection’. As though they’d known each other all their lives. Then they got married. Of course, not immediately, lah. But they did, and they’re still married. Damn cool can?

2) A girl was working as a bartender like, many decades ago. A tattooed sailor from NZ came in. They couldn’t communicate other than the order. But they fell in love and the girl eloped to NZ with her sailor, who then became an accountant to stay with her. (Yes I did say true unless otherwise stated). They’re still married with two kids.

3) A girl (notice the stories always start with girls? I wonder why) was happily dating around when one day she just vanished. Her friends tracked her down one year later living in India with her husband. Apparently she had gone to India on a ‘family trip’ and found out she was to be married to a son of a diamond merchant business. He was handsome, rich, young, nice, and offered to divorce her in a year’s time should she be dissatisfied with him. Obviously, she took him. In case you’re wondering, their parents fixed the match. How come MY parents can’t hook me up with a rich young handsome diamond merchant? KNNCCB.

I shall share details of our intellectual conversation later. You will be very enriched after it, I assure you.

By the way, I’m going to see Superman Returns this Saturday! Yay!

All The Small Things

2006-06-26T01:06:00.000-07:00

I was walking towards Mediacorp this morning, feeling all depressed because it was Monday and Monday meant the start of five continuous working days, when I suddenly thought of something that made me smile. It was a completely random thought that came out of nowhere and I don’t mind telling you it had something to do with the word ‘ugly’, but it did make me smile and, for a few moments, I actually felt better.

And then I realize, hey, it’s the small joys that keep us sane. Sure, big joys like scoring A’s for O Levels and getting accepted into a course of your choice are wonderful, but what really keeps us on track, day after day, is happiness that you can’t measure. The kind that you feel, but don’t notice.

So you ask, what the hell am I talking about?

This is what I’m talking about.

When you come home, dead tired, and have a hot shower and warm bed to crawl into.

When you wake up in the morning to the sound of your dad using the blending machine and realize that you have a home.

When your grandmother tells you you’re the most beautiful girl in the world.

When your mother cooks your favourite dish just because she loves you enough.

When your friend SMS-es you to ask you out and you know that you have someone to crap and hang out with.

When you’re walking along a street, not thinking of anything in particular, when you see or think something that just makes you smile, suddenly and unexpectedly, like a gift.

When you come to the end of a murder mystery novel and find out that the murderer was the guy you’d suspected all along.

When the opening credits shows up in a dark cinema after ten minutes of advertisements.

Very little things that shape our lives. You mayn’t think they do, or perhaps you never even gave them much thought because they’re so insignificant and heck, who thinks of stupid stuff like that? But they’re not stupid, they’re not insignificant, and their very smallness gives them importance. Because, with the big things, you have to have the small things, too. And more often than not, the small override the big.

So next time you find yourself smiling at a random thought in the middle of a street, remember that it is beauty…right there…and it has gone straight into the collection of little significant things that mould your life.

Single in the City

2006-06-22T08:18:00.000-07:00

Sometimes it's hard to breathe. But eventually it gets better.

High soprano voice with Bridget-Jones-like movements, 'All by myselllffffffff, don't wanna beeee, all by myseelffffff anymoreeeeeee!!!!'

Will die a lonely death in an apartment 40 floors up that faces a grey concrete wall and will not be discovered until the smell seeps out the corridor and someone complains to police.

Either that or will end up as fat plump smiling spinster handing out food to hungry little children.

Or will end up as skinny sour spinster with 50 cats, only do not like cats and will probably never own them.

Will also occasionally throw dirty laundry water down on romancing couples below. Quite easy as government is now upgrading HDB neighbourhoods with nice parks and multistorey carparks.

When on MRT, will studiously balance specs on nose and read 'We Don't Need Men' without looking at heavily-petting couple leaning on the glass panel near the door.

When girlfriends bitch about husbands and bratty little kids, will smirk to oneself and think how lucky that am single and do not need to prepare dinner for hungry unappreciative pot-bellied husband and smelly kids in school uniform.

Will also remind oneself that can fly off to Thailand whenever feel like it, as long as have money and airplane ticket. Money especially.

When in Starbucks or Coffee Bean, will sit quietly in one corner stirring hot chocolate and reading intellectual books like 'What Happened in the French Revolution' because intellectual book is better any day than stammering male species who think that Ong Teng Cheong is still alive.

Okay. Was just feeling a little depressed and went all Bridget-Jonesy.

In a city where 13 year olds are beginning to hold hands and prance about like 30-year married couples, it's getting increasingly tough to be single. Not to mention incredibly annoying. Especially when nearly all the girlfriends are attached. Because in a group conversation, somehow the talk will shift to boyfriends eventually. And then you're left on the sidelines sipping whatever's left of your drink and wishing that they would just stop. Or when they say "coool let's have a girls' night and bitch about our boyfriends" and you think "@#%^&" even though you know they don't mean to hurt you at all.

Sometimes I think I should just get a boyfriend for the heck of it. So I won't have to endure going out with two couples. Or sitting alone in the MRT watching some idiotic PDAs feel themselves all over. And then I think, kuso! (that's Japanese for 'damn'. I'm multi-lingual, ok) It's ridiculous to succumb to pressure like that.

I guess at times it's funny and at times it's not. There are days when I feel annoyed and dispirited and wonder what is wrong with me. Am love pariah. Then there are days when I'm glad I don't have a boyfriend. Can stay at home all day without having to explain why.

I think I agree with a comment made by Anne Shirley's student. "I want to be a widow. Cause if you're single, people call you an old maid, and if you're married, your husband will boss you." Talk about the best of both worlds!

Resident Evil

2006-06-20T07:14:00.000-07:00

There are some people in this world that I just don't get. So petty, small-minded, and bitchy that they disgrace the human race. I don't profess to be perfect myself but these people really take the cake for being repulsive.

Now why this sudden onslaught of anger? I just had a brush in today with one of the most annoying of the annoying. A loud-mouthed, arrogant woman who thinks herself big deal, but is too insecure to truly be big deal. Now, I have no problem with big deal people. Obviously they must have done something to make themselves big deal, and therefore they deserve it. But if you're not big deal, yet try nasty, underhanded ways to make yourself big deal, now that is just sad.

So Ms Resident Evil today confronts me over a mistake I made, which I sincerely am sorry about, and will admit that it was partially my fault that it happened. And yes, I mayn't have been as polite as hoped for (though it is to note that I did not say anything rude), but when someone is looking at you with that belligerant attitude and talking to you like you suck, do you think you can be polite? Anyway, she was rude and I think she was rather out of line. But never mind, let it pass. I felt sorry for her, really. She's too small to worry about. The only thing we can do is feel sorry for them and try to understand their little petty, insecure characters.

Then, I find out that she goes and sneaks to my superior, telling her an absolute untruth of what I did. Needless to say, exaggerating what I did wrong. Now that I do not like. It is one thing to confront me (which, by the way, she has no right to), another thing to tell an exaggerated untruth to my supervisor. Why on earth did she do that for? What could she hope to gain from it, except glowing recognition from my supervisor for being so conscientious in 'taking care' of the condemned souls in the office?

Look, woman. If you want to be a bitch, go ahead. But for goodness' sake, be a bitch with dignity. Be an honest bitch. Not a sneaking, cowardly, lying one. You are a disgrace to bitches.

If you must make yourself unpleasant to others, at least don't make yourself disgusting. Don't degrade yourself. You can be unpleasant yet acceptable. People can tolerate as long as you are honest and fair. But the moment y ou're dishonest and unfair, you lose all credibility.

It's unbelievably sad that we have people like that amongst us. That they can't see how truly ugly they make themselves out to be. That their minds are so small they cannot understand the meaning of 'big-hearted'. That they're so petty they can't let small things pass. That they're so eager to climb up the ladder that they're willing to degrade themselves.

Have some dignity. Some self-respect. You only get to be on this earth once. You only get to interact with others once. Life's too short for all these silly, backhanded, cunning things. Why be ugly when you can be beautiful? Why be mean when you can be kind? Why be sneaky when you can be open? Why be dishonest when you can be honest? Why be hateful when you can be likeable?

If you have a problem with me, take me to my boss and tell us both the problem. Don't go around behind my back like that. And even if you do, tell the truth. I know you're probably insecure and you take comfort in picking on others because it makes you feel good about yourself. You're topdog, you make no mistakes, you are wonderful, a superior being! But don't forget, the very minute you pick on someone, you immediately sink lower than dust. You are no topdog, you are no wonder being. Because you failed morally and ethically. And no matter what you do, even if you're richer than Bill Gates or CEO of an MNC, you're still nothing. The old, honest, hardworking woman in the coffeeshop drinks stall is bigger than you.

The best way to being secure is building up your own character, not tearing down others'. And for everyone's sake, take that to heart, Ms Resident Evil.

Oddities of Life

2006-06-15T20:12:00.000-07:00

Do you realise, even in sedate little Singapore, that there are some really odd things that happen now and then? Even though the image we project is that of a wealthy, highly-educated, classy (well, sometimes) nation, there are still oddities lingering around. Let me count the ways...

There is a chicken hanging around the bus stop opposite Mediacorp. Why she's there, I have no idea. Every evening, I walk down to the bus stop to find her pecking around, waddling from side to side, sometimes wandering right into the bus stop where everyone looks at her hoping she won't come nearer. She doesn't do anything else other than waddle about and peck at grass. Sometimes she scratches herself, revealing a very plump body under her wings. I think she feels safe that in a public place, nobody will bother to catch her and make her into chicken soup. But how on earth did she get there?

It's also interesting to note that whenever she's hanging around the path leading to the bus stop, the pedestrains who walk past will automatically walk a little further away when they approach her. It's strange, isn't it, a harmless plump chicken who won't touch us, yet we're sort of afraid it will peck us? I admit I used to walk a little further too. Now I don't bother.

There is a cat hanging around the pavement leading into Mediacorp. Why she's there, I have no idea. Why Mediacorp seems to be infested with animals, I have no idea either. I presume she is put out to sun every day by one of the bungalow owners, because she appears well-fed and not in the least unhappy with her lot in life. She scratches herself and watches passerbys. Occasionally a pedestrian will bend down to stroke her. Sometimes they'll even give her food. When they do, she'll follow them a few paces, then sit down and watch the world again.

There is a crazy man hanging around Bedok. He always has headphones in his ears, wears a loose shirt with bermudas, and mutters to himself, occasionally shouting "DIE!" into the nearest person's ears. Nobody in the bus looks as though they're paying attention to him, but the real fact is that everyone is just terrified he'll come up and strangle them. But so far he hasn't been physically violent. He just likes to shout "DIE!"

Yesterday, there was a man who got on my bus with an umbrella, and settled down on the front seat that faces the rest of the bus..you know that one. First he started talking and put his hands together as though he was praying for all us condemned souls upon the bus. Then, when the seat directly opposite him was vacated, he got up, smacked his umbrella several times on the seat, then smacked it with his hands, and finally he deigned to sit down. I'm sure everyone was wondering what the heck he was doing. Are our butts THAT dirty?

About two months ago I boarded yet another bus (yes I take a lot of buses) and there was this man right behind, preaching to us. It was some form of Christian doctrine, and he wouldn't stop till he got off. I have no idea what he was going on about. I was giggling too much.

And then, on yet another bus, there were these two young men..one Indian who looked like a construction worker but had a really expensive 3G phone, and a Malay-looking boy...I can't remember if he was really Malay or something else. They were playing songs very loudly on the phone. It was ok for a while, then it got irritating, especially when they started playing "omai ee ma HEE, omai ee ma HOO, omai ee ma HA, omai ee ma HEEHEE" and they played it TWICE! Die, you moronic pests of society, die! It wasn't even the more accepted version of that Ozone. It was that irritating Chinese cutesy girl!

There used to be this guy who sat in Bedok Central and professed to know everything about you. He would speak in English...I think...and when you walked past him, he said, "I know you. I know everything about you. I know your future..." *his voice trails off as I quickly walk away* If he knows my future, and presumably everyone else's, he should be making a living out of it, not sitting down there and giving out information for free. Where's your business acumen man?

And then we have our great political analysts, the ones who have 'insider' knowledge on everything that goes on in the Singapore political scene, the ones who have the most learned opinions and will not listen to differing views...the cabbies! Step into one and mention the word 'Lee Kuan Yew' or 'PAP' and they're off, screaming and shouting in Mandarin, Hokkien, and broken English..yes, a mixture of all combined. Gahmen always liddat one. Gahmen take money never give back. Wah be taxi driver very difficult leh! Owies no customer one! Too many taxi on the road! Sometimes customer give $50 for $7 cab fare, then they got no change, why Singaporean all so jialat one? I tell you ar, the Gahmen not good one! Always take from cabbies one! They know Singapore liddat they still want to liddat!

Not being a cabbie, I can't comment on the cabbies' disillusionment with our Gahmen. But I CAN comment on one thing...if there are so many cabs on the road, why is it that I can never find one when I need one? Hmm...
So you see, Singapore is not so sterile after all. Compared to other countries, of course we seem sterile, but on the other hand we only have 4 million people. How many strange people can we have? It's all about ratio, baby. And judging from what I've seen, we have quite a lot, actually.

Predictive Quantity

2006-06-05T06:24:00.000-07:00

Internship is freaking hell. Let me get that out of the way before I say anything else.
I realise that I receive $500 per month. So, let us now do some calculation:
$500 divided by 20 days = $25 per day
$25 divided by 9 hours = $2.77/hr

Therefore I declare my salary (or allowance as they insist we call it) as a grand sum of $2.77/hr. Like, wow! I can buy 9 plates of chicken rice per day! How totally awesome is that.

Now that is subject to change in case of MC. So, two-day MC = $50 cut off. KNN lah. They're depriving me of 18 plates of chicken rice. 18 plates of chicken rice can feed me for 6 days. Now that they have minus-ed that money from my account, I am now left with 6 chicken rice-less days. How am I going to survive? Tell me this, HR!

If you think my story is sad enough, spare a quiet thought in the direction of my fellow exploited intern. EI frequently works overtime and is subject to any amount of bitching and unhappiness because she is taken more seriously than me. (in other words, she gets to do the work). So, we estimate her earnings to be about $1.50/hr. Hmm. Maybe she can get 9 cups of ice milo per day.

Do you think the roadsweeper earns more than us? Or are all roadsweepers on CWO?

And, gee, people say that media's where the money's at. Sure, if you ain't an intern below the bottom of the food chain.

Or just a normal worker who doesn't go around in Gucci sunglasses and fur coats, and has to climb a stupid overhead bridge to get to the other side. Why did the chicken cross the road? Because the damned thing didn't have to cross an overhead bridge.

Okay! Enough ranting! I am a happy Chinese Girl now.

The subject of the day is the fearsome 6-6-6. As we know, tomorrow is 6 June 2006. Hence, some people expect either 1) the end of the world or 2) the Anti-Christ to begin taking over the world. Do you know, a betting company is actually offering odds of 100,000-1 that the world will be destroyed? So, according to MSNBC.com, if you deposit $500 in hopes that the world will survive, and it does, you get half a penny. If you deposit $100 and the world is destroyed, you stand to win $10 million. Isn't that marvellous? You might have a wee bit trouble collecting it though.

"Honey, guess what, omgomg, I just won $10 million!"
"Darling, you'll have to get off the roof first before you can even bloody think of collecting it."

Don't you just gape in awe at the moneymaking acumen of these betting companies?

Hmm...this is when I begin wondering. It is not exactly 06.06.06. To be strictly accurate, come on, people, it's 06.06.2006. Notice the invading '2' in front of 0 and 6? If the world was going to be destroyed on 666, it would have taken place on 6 June 6. In other words, 6 June year 6 anno domini. That's right, 2000 years ago. Now that would have been the proper 6.6.6.

But say, just for the fun of it, that 6.6.2006 really IS the date. Which part of earth do you think the Anti-Christ will take over first? Maybe North America? Most probably New York City. The waves will overtake Statue of Liberty first. Then it will crash down the skyline of NYC. Gorgeous shot of underwater world with Statue's head bobbing about. (shuts off Deep Impact)

Or maybe it goes by GMT. Which does it touch first, the positive or the negative? Okok for simplicity's sake, take it from GMT 00. That means that England will go first. We'll have about 8 hours to worry. So, I predict the date and time for the end of the world (strictly in local terms) to be 6 June 2006, 0800 hours. Are you prepared? Are you in or are you out? Are you part of the force? Are you...? (shuts off Hollywood slogans)

Just call me...CGstradamus.

The Phantom of the Smell

2006-05-28T00:38:00.000-07:00

(a bit of credit has to go to my beloved P. who sat at the back of a red van with me today and laughed ourselves senseless)

I'm pretty sure a lot of you have read/watched 'The Phantom of the Opera', and even if you haven't, you must have heard something about it. A masked man frightens the living daylights out of everyone in the theatre (I forgot the name), but falls in love with one of the young beautiful chorus girls, Christine Daae, who is in turn in love with her childhood sweetheart, Raoul, but also fascinated by the Phantom, who to her is the'Angel of Music'.

Very romantic movie, with the Phantom leading Christine into his almost fairy-like cave decorated with little twinkly candles...and singing lovely songs like 'That's All I Ask Of You' and 'The Music of the Night'...

Now let us take this wonderful story out of the world of fiction and plonk it into the real world.

The Phantom has the advantage of a two-way mirror in Christine's room, which he gracefully twirls around when he leads her into his cave of shadowy dark corners and radiant candlelight. Which I cannot then help to wonder, does he peek at her frequently? Eee so scary one.

The Phantom has been living in his cave ever since the matron of the theatre dumped him there. Presumably he has not left it since then. And, as we know, he lives in an underground web of tunnels - in other words, sewage system - where all our unmentionables go. How does he bathe? I hardly think he wants to bathe in sewage water. And I don't think the matron gives him soap or shampoo. So what does he bathe with?

Where does he get his clothes from? Assuming that the matron passes him clothes, he can't have that many. Which means he wears the same stuff for weeks on end. And he doesn't have anyone to do his laundry for him. They don't have drycleaning service down in the sewers right? So how? Never change clothes will be very stinky one.

Feast our eyes on these terrible scenes.

Scene No.1
(Background music: 'The Phantom of the opera is here...inside my mind (inside your mind)...inside my mind...')
The Phantom is rowing his boat across the golden river of waste product.
Christine is singing 'My Angel of Music is here...'
Suddenly...
Christine: "Phantom, what are those brown things floating about?"
(music grinds to a halt.)

Scene No.2
Christine and Raoul are on the rooftop, singing 'That's All I Ask Of You'. Wind blows but miraculously does not throw their hair into their faces. The Phantom is broken-hearted behind a nearby statue.
Suddenly...Raoul stops singing.
Christine: "Raoul, dear? What is wrong?"
Raoul: "Is that B.O. coming from you, Christine?"
(music grinds to a halt.)

Scene No.3
The Phantom is doing his usual thing: haunting the theatre and scaring people while down below the staff are actually trying to put on a show. Soaring crescendo of music. Phantom swings with wild abandon from rope to rope - a fascinating creature of the dark with wrathfully glowing eyes. He's out for blood. He's out to kill.
Suddenly...
Lights person: "What's that smell?"
Ropes person (faltering voice): "I sense a whiff of the Phantom..."
(music grinds to a halt.)

Scene No.4
Christine is in the river up to her waist, tears starting from her lovely eyes, watching as the Phantom presents her with an ultimatum: Be with him and let Raoul go free; or else he will destroy Raoul!
Suddenly...
Phantom: "Christine, you don't want to come nearer."
Christine: "Yes I do."
Phantom: "No you don't."
Christine: "Yes I do."
Phantom: "No you don't and I can prove it to you. Let me show you my CCTV. Through advanced technology, waste that is flushed down your toilet passes through...etc.etc. And ends up in the water you're now wading in. That is why you do not want to come near me."
Christine: "Oh. my. freaking. hell."
(music grinds to a halt.)

For the sake of POTO fans, I shall now stop analysing the Phantom's B.O.

But the truth remains and cannot be denied, even in the face of persecution.

Our Phantom is busok.

The Age of Practicality

2006-05-25T07:47:00.000-07:00

"It's the thought that counts." Famous words of people who have ever received presents they didn't want.

Unfortunately - or fortunately - thought doesn't seem to count anymore. Gift givers are far more practical than they were in ages past. No way are they going to spend three hours wandering aimlessly around a mall looking for something they think you might like, and then eventually buy something safe from Bodyshop which they're sure you won't throw away. The shortest distance between two points is a straight line, and the shortest way to get someone a nice present is to ask that someone what exactly he/she wants.

Let me note down the reactions of a few different people who have very kindly offered to buy me presents for my birthday.

The birthday girl, a.k.a me: "Hey, my birthday is coming up. It's customary for people to give presents to others on their birthday."

Guy A: "Why don't you tell me what you want, that'll save me a lot of time." (Practical but unromantic)

Guy B: "O!!!! I didn't get you anithing!!! What you want?" (Blunt)

Girl A: "Oh I don't follow customs." (Is that a reason?)

Girl B: "Is it...so what do you want?" (What every girl wants a rich friend to say to them)

Whoi, people! Where's the thought, the element of surprise, the little happy shriek that I can give when I unwrap the present and find my dreams coming true? Hmmph. This is what happens when you are practical with practical friends. But even practicality needs a little bit of romance, you know. whines

So, in keeping with their wishes, I duly gave them hints about what I wanted. I told Girl B I would like a book on Amazon. Without batting an eyelid, she agreed. And then came the whammy.

Me: "Are you sure? It costs about US$16."
Girl B: "What? So cheap?"
- pause while Me stares at her silently -
Girl B: "I thought it was about $80."
- another pause while Me considers the delights of having a friend who does not worry overmuch about spending $80 on a birthday present. Indeed, a friend to keep. And no, it's not the money. -

Maybe being practical isn't too bad after all.

Trekking Across Singapore

2006-05-24T08:32:00.000-07:00

In case you don't know, something very interesting happened in a faraway land not too long ago. A self-proclaimed fat man trekked across America to lose weight and gain confidence. Apparently he felt he was too burdened by his size and took six months out of his life to walk across the "land of the free and home of the brave" instead of going to the gym or climbing up stairs. Sounds a little like Forrest Gump, ne! Only Forrest ran, not walked. Run, Forrest, run! I always wondered how Forrest did it, since he just ran off on impulse without bringing any money or clothes with him - so how come he changed clothes in every scene and didn't seem to lose any weight due to lack of monetary resources to buy food? And when he finally stopped running cause he wanted to go home, what'd he do? If I remember correctly, he was in the middle of this really long road. He would have to walk a damn far way to the bus stop. Or maybe he started running, which cannot be, because he stopped running. Hmm. Oh, sorry, off track.

I wonder if I should embark on a trek across Singapore to lose weight too. Of course I won't be walking 3000 miles unless I walk in circles. But then, romance will be quite lost (by the way, don't you think romance is always lost the minute it's put in local context?). For example, I won't have to sleep in a sleeping bag under a sky filled with glittering stars; or camp out in a lush green forest with birds chirping softly across the branches above my head. All I have to do is take out my Ezlink card, walk to the nearest bus stop/MRT station, and voila, I'll be home in about an hour. Why bother sleeping out under the stars when I can go home, take a shower, and sleep in a nice bed? Besides, even if I do have a hankering to sleep in a lush green forest, I doubt very much anyone wants to sleep in Singapore's mini-jungles. For one, the ground is filled with ants and little bugs that will creep in between your toes. For two, you probably can't find a single un-leaf/root-covered spot. For three, how far in can you go, seeing that it's very dense tropical rainforest?

Plus for mealtimes, I won't be buying a sandwich and munching on it as I run with the wind in my hair (which, if you're running against the wind, is extremely irritating). I can just go to the nearest kopitiam and order chicken rice.

Definitely, all this is if I do not melt outright from the heat.

Romance, romance, where art thou, romance?

Siansation

2006-05-19T09:26:00.000-07:00

A mere ten years ago, people were still buying books with scented paper to write their thoughts in. And when I say thoughts, I mean thoughts. Like the real nasty stuff. My best friend is a bitch (okay so maybe they used nicer words back then). I hate my parents. She looks fat and ugly. I want to overthrow the head prefect. I'm glad she got scolded by teacher today. You get the drift. The kind of things we never want anyone else to know because then they'll realise we're not actually the sweet nice things we look on the outside (well, most of us, anyway).

And then there are the secrets of love lives that were scribbled down. I have a crush on xxx. I think xxx is so handsome. I want to marry xxx. (insert own name with xxx's surname) I'm really in love with xxx but I'm going out with yyy because xxx never looks at me. Of course, proper names were mentioned. After all, nobody was going to read them, right?

That's why handwritten diaries are always such a big thing in plotlines. In QSSYMM (Qing Shen Shen Yu Meng Meng), Leo Ku has the quarrel of a century with Vicki Zhao because he discovers not-so-nice secrets in her diary (of course they eventually made up but that's beside the point). In numerous other romance novels, boy reads girl's diary after girl dies/during quarrel/snooping around her room, and discovers secrets that he never thought of. In adventure novels, adventurer reads diary of dead person and solves mysteries/discovers new mysteries around which the author can spin a tale. It's all the secrecy and intrigue of a person's innermost, bitchiest thoughts that make everyone excited.

But now, how to incorporate blogs into romantic plots like the ones mentioned above?

Hmm.

Say you do write down your innermost thoughts in a blog, and your Boy/Girl discovers it by accident. But what's the intrigue when 10,000 other people have access to it? And anyway who truly writes down their innermost thoughts? There's something called self-censorship (more appropriately, self-preservation).

Plus, typing doesn't have the same feel as writing. Yeah it's far more convenient and yes I'd much rather type than write cause cramp in the hand isn't exactly desirable but there's just something about being really angry, picking up a pen, and writing so hard that the paper tears. A feeling like you're getting back at something or someone when in reality you're harming no one but your poor diary, right? How do you do that in typing? Even if you type so hard that you spoil the keyboard, in the end you have to go to Funan the IT Mall to buy a replacement keyboard. Not exactly the stuff of romance.

So why do people still blog?

Cause, y'know, there's just something called "free expression"...we like to believe we can say whatever we like in front of whoever we want.

And if there was something exciting in knowing that nobody is ever going to read what you write (minus the Boy/Girl or snooping adventurer or generations of people who'll dig through your secrets when you're dead), there is definitely something exciting in knowing that people are going to read what you write. It makes you feel important. Makes you feel like an artist.

Okay to sum everything up.

We're bored people. Siansation.