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Month: January 2005

Working things out

Having one of those up and down weekends is good for the soul. Keeps the blood pumping too. Makes you feel alive. And all that.

A two-day anger festival (family matters) came to a head earlier, and I am glad that order has been restored, and all parties involved have been put in their places, and I am always right.

So, anyhoo, me and the boys and some girls went and played touch footy again. This time, it wasn’t sunny. In fact, it rained buckets. But still we had loadsa fun, and a good workout to boot. Just ask LMD. If she’s able to blog about it in the next few days.

I seldom dole out advice, but there are exceptions. Like when I’m feeling self-conscious enough (because a fair number of people read this blog now… so scared…).

Today I want to tell all of youse not to let matters fester until it needs to be released in a manner that threatens the whatsit and whatnot of your family’s all that. And if ever you find yourself so bogged down by the weight of the said festering matters, go get a group of your best mates and have a game of touch footy in the rain.

There is nothing you cannot resolve. If you can’t do it on your own, you have your mates. But always remember, if there’s a wee, there’s a way (via Daryl Sng).

Debris
Table debris, 29th Jan 2005

iTunes’ party shuffle is playing a copy of: Hain’t It Funny – k.d. lang – Drag, of which I have the original CD and therefore didn’t steal music.

Too much coffee and sugary drinks so cannot blog properly

I’ve just had one of those rare days where I completely lost my temper.

How did I lose my temper? I got angry in the morning, then simmered all afternoon while consuming four shots of espresso and one funky purple/pink drink, deliberated over how I would display my anger, and then went and displayed my anger.

I think there’s a market for my kind of anger management.

But you can’t stay angry for too long (like say, more than a day) when you come home, go online, and find things like this:

Via YJ:


Luke, eaaaaat meeeeeee!

And you know when a blogger has gone off the boil when he, like me, starts taking pittures of his coffee cups:

red gunk
He Starbucks, I Spinelli!

iTunes’ party shuffle is playing a copy of: Black is the Color of My True Love’s Hair – Nina Simone – Verve Jazz Masters 17, of which I have the original CD and therefore didn’t steal music.

Snippets from high-flying lives

I spent this evening at the poolside (the pool of which has ‘underwater music’) of the swanky serviced apartment complex called ‘Orchard Parksuites’ because a high-flyer uni-mate was back in town for work and for to meet up with some of her treetop-skimming uni-mates.

It is a reflex assumption that money is no matter to these high-flying, high-living uni-mates. But of course, that is not true. They have money issues too, just that the decimal point is usually further to the right of the figures we throw about. But still, I have not felt so comparatively poor in a while.

Then they spoke about mothers-in-law, and how horrible they were. Then they spoke of how marriages between some of our uni-mates had ended before they actually began. Then they spoke about children, and babies, and how it was read somewhere that you can lactate even if you’re not a mother or an expectant mother.

And I’m sitting here wondering if they still wonder why I’m always the one contributing totally incongruent conversation topics.


Gotta add some swank to my income

Surf stop: Men of Clay
iTunes’ party shuffle is playing a copy of: Oh, what a beautiful mornin’ – 1998 London Cast Recording – Oklahoma!, of which I have the original CD and therefore didn’t steal music.

Even larger than life in Meatspace (Mr Miyagi forget to bring camera)

So, Adri had to bugger off to the Night Safari, which was a pity, really, because that meant we were short of one very good set of brains to pick. But then, nair mind, the doyen of Singapore bloggers, Mr Brown, arrived soon after, knocking over some chairs and almost a table at Cafe Cartel before he got to the table.

And what a table it was too. I got to sit next to Xiaxue, who sat next to Preetamrai, who sat next to La Idler, who sat next to Agagooga, who sat opposite Myrick, who sat next to Mr & Mrs Acorn, who sat next to The Calm One (Neh? the One, so Calm until stop blogging?), who sat next to Mr Brown, who sat opposite me.

So many things we talked about, and I was in charge of doling out gossip. Everything I know about the bloggers I know is now in the reliable hands of the abovenamed. They might choose to do something about it, so stay tuned!

Of course, one of the more important things we discussed was blogging. My contribution was ‘how to increase your page hits’, although that was only limited to ‘putting up a photo of Fiona Xie’. Preetamrai, on the other hand (where there are also five fingers), offered a solution to parents who want to know if their teenage children have blogs: buy them a gift, then google ‘my mother/father/parents bought me a gift’.

Xiaxue, who I think makes a darn good journo/media personality with her incessant probing and baiting, contributed in her own inimitable way, very generously offering to let me feel her up. (That’s when Mr Brown choked, coughed and sneezed one piece of macaroni back onto his plate, decent family man that he is). I declined, of course, knowing that if I had as much as sampled her offer, I’d be splashed all over her blog as the sleazy old bloke who squeezed her tit at Cafe Cartel. As the others would agree, you cannot buy this kind of experience, man… eh, actually, you can, but that one has got little to do with blogger meet-ups.


Night safari photo taken by Adri

Xiaxue's wallet
What’s in Xiaxue’s wallet? Xiaxue’s photos, lah! What?

iTunes’ party shuffle is playing a copy of: It’s Just Not Cricket – The 12th Man – The 12th Man, of which I have the original CD and therefore didn’t steal music.

Household applicants

Been very busy, so I’m relying on a cell of operatives to gather information, useful and not, for this blog.

One of my operatives in Chinatown tells me the Chinese New Year decorations there includes a giant rooster sitting on some giant eggs amidst the recycled Christmas lighting. Rooster sitting on eggs leh. “If this isn’t indicative of the state of the Singaporean male, I don’t know what is”, my operative adds.

Another operative reports the following conversation heard on a train. (Not overheard. Heard. Singaporeans, we talk very LOUDLY):

Eh, any shop got applicants sale or not ah?

What applicants? What shop?

Neh? Like Best Denki, Courts all that?

What applicants?

Neh? Like kettle, microwave all that? Household applicants lah!

Orh. Dunno. See newspaper lah.

My well-trained operative adhered to the rule of non-intervention and resisted the urge to correct the conversation, allowing himself only to mutter, ‘Buy mattress free handphone, dear“.

And Chinese New Year buy new applicants appliances one meh? My family just insists on mandarin oranges, tidbits and new cloats.


Get this monkey off my back. I look stupid enough as it is.

iTunes’ party shuffle is playing a copy of: These Are Days – 10,000 Maniacs – These Are Days [Single], of which I have the original CD and therefore didn’t steal music.