OUR NAZI RECEPTIONIST

We have a Nazi receptionist in our building.

She doesn't smile to guests at all (pretty much a pre-requisite to becoming a receptionist, I believe...) , she barks orders to you through the phone, her face contorts to what is best described as a badly disguised snarl when she sees you go to the nice Executive restroom in the 1st level... and the final indisputable proof that she is the ultimate Nazi receptionist...

She kinda looks like Frau from Austin Powers...You may laugh... but I swear she does look like her. Just... remove the smile.

Walking past the reception area is like treading through a minefield... not knowing when you'd take a wrong step and have something blow up in your face. That said, we still do things that would induce that badly disguised snarl... and try our darnest to get away with it.

Like smiling in her face as you go to the nice Executive washroom... or taking water from the bottled water dispenser in the reception area (she has the nicest looking water dispenser... well, the least grungy-looking one in the building, that's for sure)... and we're always concocting new ideas to terrorise her.

Most recent one was to have whoever who lost a bet to go to the garden cum mini bird sanctuary beside the reception area where the psycho parrot (it slams itself onto the glass windows ever so often) calls home... nest... his very own pimped up aviary of sorts... and shout out, "Hey birdie... birdie... birdie....!".

Too bad no one lost the bet. It would have been nice to see her reaction.

Here's 10 other ways to piss off your Nazi receptionist.

10. Call in an open audition for Clowns to do a photoshoot in our magazine

9. Hide a baby monitor under her desk that is connected to the men's Executive toilet

8. Hire someone to pose as a telemarketer and get them to call in incessantly

7. Release a cat into psycho parrot's pimped up aviary

6. Spike the bottled water at her water dispenser with... cheap Thai liquor

5. Send someone to do a singing telegram for her. In Hokkien (a local Chinese dialect)

4. Leave sunflower seeds in her stationary holder... and leave the aviary door open.

3. Soak the above sunflower seeds... in cheap Thai liquor

2. Hide her stapler? I dunno... I'm running out of ideas here...

1. Get Britney to do a repeat of her recent VMA performance at the reception area.

I'm sure that'll put a snarl in her face...

SCRABULOUS ANONYMOUS

Hi. My name is Bigfooz... and I'm a Scrabbleholic.

I got hooked on Scrabble approximately... a month ago, thereabouts. It started when I joined Facebook and downloaded its Scrabble application, Scrabulous. Initially I played because it's fun... the high of getting your first 50 point word, the relief you get when you finally draw the letter "U" after holding on to the letter "Q" for what seems like an eternity... and don't get me started on the buzz you get when you hit that elusive triple word score.

Like all addictions, you never really realize you're addicted... until you've gone way deep into the rabbit hole. And when you stay logged on to Scrabulous every moment you're online, constantly hitting the 'Refresh' button because you hope the person you're playing with have made their move and you choose to spend your weekend hitting the 'Refresh' button than go out on a date... you've know you're deep in the hole. Deep.

I wasn't always like this, you know. I used go out on weekends... hang out at the beach with friends. Granted, I'd bring my mini Scrabble travel edition to the beach. But at least I was out. Now, I'm no longer the same man I once was. My friends won't play with me because they claim I kick their asses all the time (which is... well, true) and I now get my kicks playing Scrabulous with people I don't know and accepting their invitations to play without knowing their background prior to playing... just living life dangerously.

I know this has to stop... and in time I probably will find the strength and courage to bring myself out of this habit. But I can't go cold turkey. I just can't bear the thought of going through that. I will need to be weaned off this addiction, maybe have a sort of "Scrabble patch" before I can totally stop.

Anyone up for Boggle?

RUGBY'S BACK ON THE MENU

I'm looking forward to the 7th of September... because on that day, rugby is back on the menu on the Sports Channel. The Rugby World Cup 2007 is back after four long years. The Rugby World Cup is not as illustrious as its footballing counterpart but certainly not less exciting. In fact, I personally feel that the game is more passionate and a lot purer in spirit... no conflict of nations versus clubs, no overpriced stars throwing hissy fits and definitely much lesser drama.

Just pure adrenalin and spirit.

I have always liked rugby. You have a great sense of power when you run with the ball in hand to the try zone (goal) while dragging some poor kid who is hanging on to your thigh, desperately trying to bring you down. Being hammered down and getting the wind knocked out of you by someone who is an equivalent of a rampaging rhino... not as fun.

But I truly fell in love with the game when I first saw Jonah Lomu from the New Zealand's All Blacks team score an impossible try... flicking huge men to the side and blasting through walls of pure muscle as he makes his powerful run and score that try. That man is indomitable. That man... is legend.

It's a pity that Jonah Lomu's career ended prematurely due to his health. But there is a new legion of All Blacks warriors (my favourites to win, as always). I will be looking closely at the performance of Joe Rokocoko, the bright young star who illuminated the last rugby world cup and brought back the spark Jonah had. Let's just hope the All Blacks don't choke (like they normally do during big games such as the World Cup), embody the indomitable strength and spirit of Jonah Lomu and lift the World Cup this year.

Joe Rokocoko. Can you smell what the Rokocoko is cooking...

(the dude even looks like The Rock too. Weird coincidence?)

50 YEARS OF INDEPENDENCE

It's the 50th year of independence for Malaysia and I'm in Kuala Lumpur, right smack in the thick of it. I'm actually here for business but even with the busy schedule, one can't help but be sucked in into the wave of Malaysian patriotism. From the constant playing patriotic songs everywhere you go to the display of Malaysian flags everywhere you turn... from malls to homes to the back of taxies, buses and even lorries hailing from the plantations all over... the fervour is infectious.

And the best thing about being here during their independence is... the TV ads on Malaysian patriotism. I love ads. Reason being... it's very touching, thought-provoking, funny... and most importantly, seldom corny. Guess it all stems from the genuine sense of patriotism the people here have over their country and the things they have and are able to achieve thus far. There was one ad that actually thanked the labourers and rubber-tappers for doing their part is making this nation what it is. That's something you don't see on TV everyday.

Malaysians are a proud people... and you have to admire and love them for that. They also have a way of making everything uniquely Malaysian and they are able to laugh and see humour in it. Below is an example of their sense of humour... (not too sure if it is intentional or unintentional but it's funny nonetheless)

Malaysian version of the infamous Starbucks Coffee joint

To my Malaysian friends, Selamat Hari Merdeka.

COMMENTS OVERHEARD JUST BEFORE THE APOCALYPSE

My friend Yulia asked me to post this a long time ago... in May 07 to be exact. Something she read in WIRED and she wanted me to have my take on it. Well... it's long overdue but I'm not procastinating any further lest the last comment overheard just before Apocalypse would probably be, "Could you bloody go and update your damn blog?!"

COMMENTS OVERHEARD JUST BEFORE THE APOCALYPSE

Would now be a bad time to say that I think I left the keys to the underground bunker in my other pants?

It's the first time I'm seeing this but is that a tattoo of the numbers 666 at the back of your head, Mr President?

Aww... you all look so cute in those devil outfits! But isn't Halloween still 3 weeks away...?

Dude... that goat is walking on two legs. Cool...

Live Long And Prosp....

I've got good news and I've got bad news. Good news is... we don't have to worry about bills and the mortgage anymore...

NURSING A BROKEN HEART... THEN AND NOW

Recently, my friend Jack shared about how he created a blog to secretly profess his undying love for a girl. About how he uses this as a means to reveal his innermost thoughts, his deepest yearnings, the emotional rollercoaster high whenever he is around her... and all this time, as I was reading his posts, I was thinking... damn, this guy's sappy...

Don't get me wrong. I come from a generation of he-man women haters weaned on a healthy dose (or is it... overdose?) of The Godfather, Rocky, Rambo and... well, The A-Team. We don't do emotions, we don't feelings... and we don't stay on the phone playing the never-ending "Why don't you hang up first?" game.

Well, not anymore... anyway.

What I'm trying to say is that I guess we all go through the same thing at one point in life or another. My mind wanders back to a period years ago... when I too, in a moment of uncontrolled temporary sappiness, went down a similar path.

The story begins when this hot relief teacher who's fresh out of university enters my class. It was love at first sight. She inspires me to do things that I loathed.... like Math and Geography and even... Physical Education. Seeing in her pink t-shirt, tight electric blue lycra and shorts (don't laugh... Lycra was hot then. And the pink and blue... killer colour combo) doing callistenics just brought about a stirring of... emotions. To me... and probably to the other 19 boys in my class as well.

But it was never meant to be.

So like all other boys back then... you turn to the only ones whom you felt understood you. You turn to... it's hard for me to say this but I guess it's time to come clean... the sissified big haired rockers and their heart wrenching love ballads. It is embarassing, I know. But I guess when you're hurt, the sappy lyrics speak to you.

And the way they shriek certain parts of the song to accentuate the pain they go through at octaves that can only be detected by whales and sonar... I mean, nothing says anguish better than that. Not too sure if the anguish comes from the broken heart or from the pain when you feel your "crown jewels" pinched and suffocated by the skintight leather jeans... but one thing for sure, the anguish is genuine.

So the moral of the story is... every man will have their sappy moment. If blogging helps guys today deal with the anguish as much as listening to the Ultimate Rock Ballads Volume 1 and 2 helped me back in the day, then go ahead and blog.

But Jack... if you by any chance feel that this outpouring of emotions on your blog isn't helping and if you're ever in need of something to ease that pain... I'd like to share with you the ultimate remedy... the most sappiest, most heart-wrenching, tear-jerking, ear-splitting and not to mention ball-busting rock ballad ever. A must for every heartbroken boy. Emo just doesn't cut it. Here it is, the ultimate love ballad ever... She's Gone.



Those of you with dogs... I recommend you let them out of the house or else they'd go nuts listening to this. Don't say I didn't warn you...

THE RESURRECTION

It's been ages since I was last here. I'm not even sure if I should be resurrecting my blog. Or why I am resurrecting it begin with. I guess I kinda miss the adulation of the 10 odd people that visit my blog regularly... a long, long time ago. I'm kidding... I'm kidding.

Seriously... I really do miss writing for people who actually enjoy my convoluted, inane and bizarre brand of humour. God knows why they do. Perhaps it's like those self-made sex videos... people say it's wrong and disgusting and stupid and meaningless but they just can't help bluetoothing stuff to their mobile phones because they're... "intrigued". They watch it chance they get... every single hour of every of every single day, analyzing each scene, poring through every detail...

Or is it just me?

Now before you go off thinking I'm some depraved sex fiend... let me assure you that I'm just kidding. Just merely trying to illustrate a point with my convoluted, inane and bizarre brand of humour. Seriously.

Well, before I sink deeper into this quicksand I've foolishly walked myself into, I guess I should give a brief update on what has happened with my life in the recent couple of months. In a nutshell, I've...

- Gone back to the daily grind

- Got myself a car (and a 10 year loan that's going to be a bitch to pay off)

- Gotten a tad too busy with work (which I'm sure you've noticed... seeing my absence here)

- No longer much time to exercise... not that I did much of that previously anyways

- Gone up one waist size... well, maybe slightly more. Alright, alright... slightly is an understatement...

- Shirts still fit great... when I don't exhale, that is

- Realize that I can turn shirt buttons into projectiles if I do exhale... hard

- Fallen in love with HEROES

- Decided that my superpower... is my acute sense of smell (it's true. I can smell Popeye's Chicken from two floors down. One day I'm sure that power will come to better use)

- Realized that the best way to eat Popeye's Chicken soft biscuits is with Nutella. Lots... of Nutella.

- Realized that all the Popoeye's Chicken and Nutella... is the cause of me going up one waist size

- Organised a nationwide search for the next teenage singing sensation

- Realized how old I am after being surrounded by so many teenagers

- Desperately tried to fit in with these young kids and am trying all their new fangled toys... like Facebook

- Gone on Facebook and am now addicted to Scrabulous. Unfortunely, no one wants to play with me anymore cos I always kick their ass. Damn it...

And the best thing that happened to me in the last 8 months?

- Got a cute little nephew who's now coming to five month old

This is my first post in a long long time. Hopefully it won't be my last.

'TIS CHRISTMAS

Christmas is but a few days away... and this holiday has different meanings to different people. To some, it is a time to spread love and joy... a time to give and receive.

To others, it is a time to lament on how a simple holiday got overrun by commercialism, from the extravagant Christmas lights displays to how people are spending an amount that could be the GDP of a small country on useless, overpriced Christmas gifts.

But irregardless of which side of the fence you're on... it is good to remember that Christmas is also a time to think of the less fortunate.

And I'm not talking about the orphans and the homeless or those people in countries torn by natural disaster or war... I'm sure our hearts are already out to them.

The less fortunate people I'm referring to are people who have been suffering this particular holiday in silence. People who have been put through cruel and unusual punishment and yet do not have the power to air their grievances out of fear of being branded as Grinches or Scrooges or 'em bloody liberal athiests.

It is to these people that I dedicate this post to... and to these people, I say, "Don't fret. I hear you... I hear your pains, I feel your suffering. I can't do shit to help change the situation... but take heart in the fact that Christmas is going to end soon..."

LESS FORTUNATE PEOPLE WHO I ASSUME WOULDN'T BE ENJOYING CHRISTMAS...

Staff At Fast Food Joints And Movie Theatres
Because they are "encouraged" to wear silly conical fur bobbled hats while they work throughout the month of December to "spread the Christmas cheer"...

People Without MP3s
Because they'll end up having to listen to all the non-stop jing-jing-jingaling piped-in Christmas muzak while grocery shopping, while in the elavators, while taking a pee in the mall...

People Without Cable or DVD players
Because they'll have to settle for watching to free-to-air channels, where local "celebrities" will more likely than not ruin perfectly nice Christmas songs during the obligatory Christmas Special on TV

The Newspaperboy/man
Because they will have to deliver much thicker, heavier newspapers throughout the month of December because it's choked full of Christmas Sale advertisements and Christmas catalogues and Christmas bumper issues and...

Unsuspecting Pedestrains In Orchard Road
Because they will be accosted by over-enthusiastic seasonal touts selling all manner of overpriced junk they will have no use for... like conical hats with flickering lights or fake reindeer antlers with flickering lights and colourful jester hats with, you've guessed it... bloody flickering lights

Office I.T. Guys
Because they will have to entertain a barrage of complaints of the server being slow because it's overloaded with mass Xmas greetings and emails with high gigabytes due to the animated Santas, Rudolphs or Frosties. Or worse, the Xmas email greeting could turn out to be a worm or virus...

The Fat Guy In The Office

Because he knows the people in HR are going to "encourage" him don the fake white beard with elastic bands and dress up in the uncomfortable fake woolly red suit that doesn't breathe thus making him sweat and scratch incessantly around his crotch come day of the office Xmas party.

p.s.: My heart also goes out to the following people who are suffering due to obvious reasons, namely People Who Have Cheap Bastards as Colleagues, People Who Have Neighbours Who Do A Lot Of Carolling But Are Unfotunately Tone Deaf and Anyone Who Ended Up Unwillingly Buying One Of Those Kitschy Flickering Christmas Hats From The Touts...

SAHARADJA II

Here's another clip from Saharadja.

They're seen here performing their song, Abracadabra... which melds seamlessly together the ethnic harmonies of Indonesian gamelan and the Indian tabla while incorporating Celtic vibes with haunting vocal accompaniment... transforming this enchanting song into what can be best described as a flight of fantasy...

So sit back, relax, have a listen... and this may be a fairly obvious thing to point out but I thought I best drop a gentle reminder anyways... do make sure your computer has speakers, will you?



* once again, the audio and video quality of this clip is lacking but I do hope you'll enjoy it nonetheless.

MUCH ADO ABOUT... MY BEARD

Yes... I, bigfooz, now have a full-fledged beard. It's full on... my "man rug" is now all over the bottom half of my face... stretching from the sideburns to the cheeks, down to the chin and right back up to the upper lip.

And I didn't look quite as scary as I thought I'd be...

Thing is... the beard is getting me more attention from people than I had anticipated. They keep asking me: Why are you keeping the beard...? Why do you want to look like this? Why... why... why...?

"Is it because you're depressed over something...?"

"Are you now more religious?"

"Are so so damn bloody lazy now you can't even bloody pick up a stupid razor and shave, you bloody hippee?" (Ok... my grandaunt didn't exactly say that. What she said was in Malay so some of the meaning may be lost in translation but I think that's pretty much the gist of it)

I wish I could go make a bold statement about how my beard signifies my stand on manhood... against the emasculation of man with the current wave of metrosexual conformity that has swept the world and influenced the psyche of young males today through subliminal messages within mainstream media to subconciously imprint into their feeble minds the implicit need to scrub, shave, pluck and "boyzillian" wax themselves clean of any signs of manhood! We need to uphold the ideals of masculinity. It's is time men look like men! Death to the pretty boys!

Hmm... that was quite a manifesto...

But truth be told, I kept the beard... because I can. Not many people have the kind of raging testosterone and genetic make up to grow a full beard. And also because I was too damn bloody lazy last week to bloody pick up the stupid razor and shave... (So my grandaunt was right... except for the hippee part. Old people... they're very astute. They can see through you. Always.)

To those of you who are not big fans of my beard... fret not. It's going off soon enough... it won't be long before I get called to serve the nation (no beards allowed in the Police Force). Or I'll probably shave it when I take another stab in the corporate world (don't think they'd appreciate the beard there too) after my sabbatical this coming January.

But most likely it'll be off is when my grandaunt decides to pop over...

FUNNIES IN 6 WORDS PART II

My recent entry, "FUNNIES IN 6 WORDS" have generated quite a buzz. I'd like to thank my friend Yulia for telling me about the article on WIRED and for pushing me to write my own humourous take on the 6 word stories.

She too has a collection of stories in 6 words but hers are not so much funny as it is darkly morbid... so we have decided not to share them here for fear that it might give some impressionable young minds, some of whom may have accidentally stumbled onto my blog while in search of porn, some wrong ideas that may screw them up (perhaps more than they already are...) in the later stages of their lives.

But here are some less morbid contributions from others on their 6 word stories.

Artist or Madman? "What's his networth?"

* From teyk

"Why? I already decorated your grave..."
* From Eric Bonhomme, manager of Saharadja (not sure if this is morbid... or thoughtful.)

And here's a new collection of my funnies in 6 words. Hope you'll enjoy them as much as the last one.

Breakfast - beans. Elevator - crowded. Stomach - rumbling...

Died. Didn't follow light. Got lost.

Read his mind. Came out blank.

Read her mind. Came out confused.

Christmas. Party. Dark. Mistletoe. Kiss. Moustache?

SAHARADJA

Saharadja... a band that has created one of the coolest, most eclectic sounds to emerge from the tropical paradise of Bali. It's not everyday that you can hear the trumpet, guitar, tabla, violin, the didgeridoo, tin flute... all harmonising perfectly together to create a sound that is almost ethereal. Their music is best served live... which is why if you're ever headed to Bali, theirs is a performance you shouldn't miss.

But till then, here's an excerpt of the beautiful music that is Saharadja.



* The sound and video quality is lacking... but I do hope you'll enjoy it nonetheless.

FUNNIES IN 6 WORDS

In the Nov 06 issue of WIRED, the magazine invited science fiction, fantasy and horror writers to write a story in just six words. This was inspired by Ernest Hemingway who once wrote "Baby shoes. For Sale. Never Worn." and he called it his best work.

Inspired, I would now like to try my hand at writing a funny story in six words. Not easy... considering the fact that I am, by nature, a longwinded fellow with a convoluted mind and an inability to summarise or simplify my thoughts and expressions...

But I'll try.

Anyway here are some of my attempts at doing 6-word funnies...

Holding it in. Almost home. Crap........

Blacks seeks French prostitutes. In Lahore.

Invite says Casual. I came naked.

He aims, shoots... misses urinal. Again.

Everyone's on myspace. Ozzy, Oscar... Osama?

New murder weapons. Grenades... Polonium... "Laser"
(said in the voice of Dr Evil... complete with hand gesture to indicate inverted commas)








If anyone else have any other ideas for other 6 word funnies, please email them to me at bigfooz@gmail.com and I'll post them up in the Open Mike section.

TOP TEN SIGNS THE SUSHI YOU ATE WAS RADIOACTIVE

10. The sushi bar is run by an unusually large number of ex-KGB type Russians

9. The sushi is served on a 5-inch lead plate

8. The wasabi is an unusual neon green colour

7. The next morning, you can climb walls and develop spider sense... or in your case, fish sense...

6. You turn green when you're angry... and people won't like it when you're angry

5. Your body's so hot you can pop microwave popcorn by just touching the bag

4. You go swimming and the pool turns into a hot spring

3. You realize you now have a fully functioning tail

2. Everytime you fart, you see a mushroom cloud coming out of your ass

1. Your pee glows in the dark

DEATH BY... RADIOACTIVE SUSHI

The BBC had just reported that the death of the ex-Russian spy, Alexander Litvinenko, was believed to have been due to eating sushi in a Picadilly sushi bar that had been poisoned with a radioactive element known as Polonium 210.


The new Russian Roulette - figuring out which sushi on the tray has Polonium 210...

While the doctors, the British government and press are busy speculating as to the reason for the poisoning, who is behind this and most importantly... whether London is safe from radioactive contamination, I just want to know one thing... who on Earth uses Polonium to poison someone?

Polonium is highly radioactive. A single gram of polonium-210 creates 140 Watts of heat energy and is being considered as a lightweight heat source for thermoelectric power for spacecraft. Something so radioactive must be a hassle to carry around, not to mention dangerous.

My knowledge of Chemistry is not all that great but I know that there is a whole list of elements from the Periodic Table that you can choose from as a poison... Arsenic, Mercury, Barium... rat poison...

In fact, why not just slip him a lil puffer fish? It is a sushi bar after all...

So the only conclusion I can come up with is that whoever poisoned this guy must've really hated him. I mean, to want to go through all that trouble to transport Polonium and risk radioactive poisoning on themselves just to poison this guy... he must've pissed someone off bigtime.

Either that or the price of Polonium in the Russian black market is now much cheaper compared to rat poison...

Now that's scary.

BRINGING COOL BACK

Not since Steve McQueen...

That was my thought when I watched Daniel Craig play the latest Bond in Casino Royale. I knew this man was cool ever since I watched him in Layer Cake (which is a brilliant movie for those of you who hasn't watched it). But seeing his interpretation of Bond, I couldn't help but feel that this man deserves to be exhalted as one of the coolest men in recent history. Not since Steve McQueen...

Here's my list of other coolest men of all time.


“I like women. I don't understand them, but I like them.” Sean Connery


"I am the greatest, I said that even before I knew I was." Muhammad Ali


"I don't need bodyguards. I'm from the South Bronx." Al Pacino


"I would rather wake up in the middle of nowhere than in any city on earth." Steve McQueen. Now this man... is coolness personified.

TOP TEN ANNOYING THINGS THAT HAPPENED TO ME THIS SUNDAY MORNING

10. Got woken up by a phonecall at 8am in the morning...

9. Got chided by the caller for still being asleep (it's a Sunday... you should be apologizing)

8. Was made to rummage through my wadrobe by the caller who wanted to borrow winter clothes

7. Tried to go back to sleep after that... but was already too awake to do so.

6. Decided to read the morning papers but realized someone had swiped my Sunday paper from my door

5. Had to use the toilet urgently (note to self: no more spicy suppers) but all of them were occupied

4. Realized my favourite Sunday morning cartoon... I mean, animation series... is no longer airing

3. Got a message that said that my date that day may be cancelled due to "unforseen circumstances"

2. My mother and sister decided to make me drive them to Singapore's largest mall... so that they can do some shoe shopping.

1. Realizing that after all the crap I've endured today, tomorrow's gonna be worse since it's a Monday.

WHAT HAPPENED ON 13 OCT 1974

It's been about a month since my last birthday and I was suddenly reminiscing... (I know I sound like an old coot when I used the word "reminisce". But then again, I now got over 30 years to reminisce about. That means even if I am not an ol' coot, I'm well on my way to being one, that's for sure...)

Anyway, I was reminiscing and I thought... wouldn't it be great to learn more about what happened in the world around the time I was born by checking out what popular culture (well, popular American culture) had to write about at that time? So I did a lil homework.

And guess what... nothing really great happened. It was kinda a blah month really. I mean, they were trying to fight inflation, recession, Dolly Parton's was big then (celebrity status... I meant, celebrity status...) and the only thing people were probably talking about was how the special effects people on The Exorcist made lil Linda Blair barf so much...

I mean... there were so many cooler magazine covers around that time. Time had Nixon's pardon for the Watergate scandal, Mad had cool cover of a hand showing its middle finger, Rolling Stone had Lennon and Yoko bucknaked... (I said cool. I never said pretty...)

Anyway, I decided to fast-track to the present and see what these magazines had to write about on my birthday this year, seriously hoping that there would be cooler things happening now as compared to 32 years before. And this is what I got...


An elephant's ass...? Not really feeling any better...


Still nothing...


Things are looking up. For the ladies, at least...


An anniversary cover... that's pretty cool


Mad Earl... now that's cool... (and how can you not love that face)


Ah... now I'm happy... (and how can you not love that... face...)

TOP TEN WAYS TO LOSE THAT FESTIVE FLAB

It's been a great month of indulging in reckless festive feasting... and this morning I realize that my bermudas are a tad too snug for comfort. It was then that it struck me... that new brand of detergent is making my bloody clothes shrink!

Of course, my maid didn't buy that and offered another more plausible theory... that I have, "perhaps", gained a lil festive flab. Perhaps... she could be right. But I'm changing my detergent anyways. Just in case.

Now... if the sudden feeling of snugness really was due to me piling on a few pounds, then a guess a weight loss regime is in order. Of course, I could do the normal regiment as prescribed by fitness professionals, i.e. set a goal, eat less, burn more, exercise, start on the Atkin's diet... or watch one of Oprah's weight loss specials to motivate myself... but that wouldn't be all that fun, would it?

So here are my top ten ways to lose the festive flab (warning: these weight loss ideas have not been tested, let alone proven - since no one sane enough would be willing to try it - so make sure you consult your doctor before doing this, do it at your own risk and should you lose you liver or anything like that... don't sue me)



10. Offer yourself as a spokesperson to a slimming centre. Be mentally prepared to have unflattering pictures of yourself splashed all over the local media.

9. Take naked pictures of yourself and threaten to post it all over the net if you don't lose weight. If people are smart, they'd rather cough up money for your lipo than have to see you naked.

8. Hide the remote. Searching for it under the sofa burns a lot of calories. Going to the mall to buy a new one burns more.

7. Work with OTO or OSIM. Free rides on the Flab-e-loss and iGallop all day. Woohoo!

6. Fail your IPPT. The government will do the rest.

5. Appeal to the government to allow us to use our CPF for liposuction

4. Wear pants that's one size smaller when you go out. Eat too much and risk splitting your pants and exposing your ugly brown butt to the world.

3. Burn those fat. You will have to live with 3rd degree burn scars for the rest of your life though.

2. Go to the Middle East. Rub all the lamps available. Pray a genie comes out of it then ask for 3 wishes.

1. Spend all your money set aside for food... on better detergent.

WHATSHISFACE

Festive season's over (thank god)... and I'm back. For those 7 or 8 people who have been visiting my blog daily... I'm sorry I haven't updated the blog but thank you for your commitment. I'm touched. Seriously.

And from hereon forth, I promise to dedicate more time into updating this blog. That is... until the next festive season... which is Christmas and then Eid again and then it's New Year's and after that Chinese New Year...

Anyway, speaking of the upcoming Christmas holidays, anyone intending to get me a gift (not that I'm asking for one... but I do love the spirit of giving and recieving... well, more recieving really), please refer to my earlier post dated 13th October on what NOT to buy me.

I honestly love the festive season. It's a time where you normally get a lot of invites for get-togethers. These get-togethers are great... you get to strengthen the bond between family and friends, you get to enjoy great food... and getting to see that distant fifth cousin or that old childhood friend whom you used to persistently make fun of now blossomed into a pretty young woman... is always a nice perk.

But for me, there is a downside to all these get-togethers. It's remembering the names of all those people you meet. The truth is... I am bad at remembering names. If it were up to me, I'd make people wear those kitschy name tags at all these get-togethers. Imagine all the awkward situations I'd manage to avoid... calling a girl by the wrong name, looking stumped then desperately trying to hide that look with a crooked smile whenever a familiar face pops in front of you... or having to speak like a stoned frat boy all night by calling everyone "duuuude" (works if you're 18. doesn't work so well when you're 32)



It's not that I have a bad memory... but it is really hard to focus on remembering someone's name when you're constantly distracted by the wonderful buffet spread. Or by that beautiful fifth cousin I mentioned earlier... erm... whatshername...

I do have a few tricks up my sleeve to help me remember names. Unfortunately, most of them don't work all that well. But there are a few that work and they are:

- The Milli Vanilli Move
This is also known as the blame-it-on-someone-or something-else tactic. When in a situation where you need to cough up a name, drag someone else whom you both know into the conversation and make them say the other person's name. Say something like "Hey George, see who I bumped into...". Hopefully your friend George can't recall, putting him in an awkward position, making you're suddenly off the hook.

- The Stall and Smalltalk Move
Act as if nothing is wrong. Engage in small talk and try to dig for clues. Keep talking and stalling till you get a few clues. Get his or her family name, names of mutual friends, what nicknames they were called back in school... and if you still can't remember the name by this time, start laughing at their nickname. Hopefully this will make them walk away.

- The Stoned Fratboy Move
Only when you're desperate...

RELATIVELY SPEAKING...

My apologies for being absent for a while... things have been extremely hectic lately with the festive season and all (we just celebrated Eid or Aidilfitri here in Singapore)

Anyway, I have mixed feelings about the festive season. Now, don't get me wrong... I love the fact that the festive season comes with a mandatory public holiday. And spending that public holiday tucking into great food... well, I really can't complain. But there is one thing that I don't quite like... and that's dealing with weird relatives.

It doesn't matter where you are in the world, festive holidays are the time when families congregate and this will inadvertantly mean you'll have to contend with that weird aunt or uncle of yours that you haven't seen in years (and for good reason).

Maybe it's that aunt who never shaves her pits but insist on wearing tanktops... or the uncle who lets one rip indiscriminately while others are happily tucking into the sumptuous dinner... or that grandaunt who cries at everything - the thought of of a recently deceased relative, the fact that one of her sons couldn't make it to the family get-together, the overcooked gravy... everything.

Actually, most of my relatives are really nice, normal people. In fact, none of the above are any relative of mine... well, except that uncle who lets one rip at the dinner table. Only it's not my uncle... I call him "Dad". So I'm sure in another blog, there is a cousin of mine ranting about the above and how they had to survive that during the holidays.

My personal hell during this festive season is this uncle who, out of the blue, have started to be a tad too affectionate for my liking. Our greetings used to be normal, firm, manly handshakes but this year, he started this new thing where he would hug and kiss me on both sides of the cheeks... AND my forehead! I mean, I can deal with it if my mom or grandma does that... but to have a big, hairy, burly man with a huge belly and greasy hair do that... is just wrong.



Now... I don't know how it is in your part of the world but in my book, there should be no kissing amongst straight men. No kissing on the lips, no kissing on the cheeks and especially no kissing on the forehead. The forehead kissing privileges expired when I hit the age of 12 and since I will not be donning a white bridal gown at my wedding anytime soon, I really don't see this forehead kissing ritual resurrected at all.

The handshakes were good... so let's just stick to the handshakes. I can do an occasional hug... but let's limit that to big occasions... like my wedding... or the birth of my first born... or when we survive the first nuclear holocaust... for those occasions, I can do a hug.

But no kisses. Especially if we just survived a nuclear holocaust. I mean, for the sake of the survival of humanity, I think it's only wise we keep all the kissing to members of the opposite sex. Don't you?

MY BIRTHDAY CURSE

People don't believe me when I say it... but it's true. I'm cursed. It's a curse that has followed me for as long as I can remember... ever since I was a little boy. I try not to about think it but every year, on the 13th of Oct (i.e. my birthday), I am reminded of that curse...


The curse of the Bad Birthday Gift.

I get bad birthday gifts every year. EVERY YEAR. I don't know why or when this curse started but I've been getting bad birthday gifts for as long as I can remember. The only reason I could think of is that as a little kid, I once used the money my mom gave me for my friend's birthday gift to buy myself a nice gift instead (a cool green water pistol) and used the balance to buy him Panda brand crayons that just costs 60 cents since it was made in China (though I did splurge on a nice piece of wrapping paper... PLUS ribbon)

But I've been doing a lot of good now that I've grown up and I don't scrimp as much when I buy gifts for other people so as karma rules it, I should be getting better gifts. But unfortunately, karma works in mysterious ways and every year, without fail, I still do get the odd bad gift.

And when I say bad... I mean, bad....

Now... I'm sure you're thinking "It can't be that bad..." but I assure you, the gifts get so bad, I can't recycle the gift even if I wanted to. I mean how do you recycle the following gifts:

• A tin of MILO. Think that was for my 10th birthday.
• A bottle of rose syrup. Same birthday.
• A pair of Tat Sing slippers (i.e. made in China flips flops). Same birthday. (It was a particularly bad year, that one. Must be the same year when I peed into the neighbours pot of plants)
• A filofax with a leather jacket. And by leather jacket, I mean an actual leather jacket... like the one James Dean wears in Rebel Without A Cause except it's tiny and fits a filofax... complete with the white t-shirt beneath the jacket.
• An Abdominizer or Ab Flex or Ab something... and that damn thing doesn't work, by the way.
• Cellulite cream AND a hand-held plastic cellulite scrubber.
• A football fan - A tiny football with a battery operated fan attached.
• A plastic plaque with a picture of a cow and the words "He who procastinates gets nothing" (don't ask me why... I still can't figure that one out)
• A cheap plastic toothbrush
• A couple of bronze toothpicks with Merlion heads
• A pen with a big ball of fluffy pink flamingo feathers attached to the tip
• A pack of Swan brand cotton underwear... again, made in China.

And finally, a Hall Of Famer in my gallery of Bad Birthday Gifts...

• A bronze Merlion shaped lighter which... when flicked open, will play that tune from Lambada (it was the craze back in the 80s. Again... don't ask me why). And not only that, the eyes of the Merlion flickers red while the tune is playing. Woohoo......

And the thing is... I don't even smoke.

Seriously, I'm not making this up. It all happened... and what I've written up there... those were my actual birthday gifts. And this year, this is my bad birthday gift.

A Hello Kitty cake. I'm 32... and I got a freakin' Hello Kitty cake.

When will this madness end...

YOU KNOW THE HAZE IS BAD WHEN...

This morning... the haze situation in Singapore got really bad. I sound like Darth Vader... or a perverted sex fiend (when I'm on the phone, that is) and damn it... I don't even have asthma.

Every year, the Southeast Asian region gets stricken with haze, no thanks for the "slash and burn" practices of our agricultural neighbours down south. And today, Pollutant Standards Index (PSI) level hits a high of 150 and anything beyond the 100 mark indicates that the air now is at unhealthy levels.

Anyway, you really don't need the stinking (pun intended) PSI to tell you the haze is bad. You know the haze is bad when....

- Smokers decide to quit smoking, take the filters off their remaining sticks of Malboros and stuff them up their nostrils

- Someone farts in the room and people welcome the smell

- The country looks like a dodgy 80s disco with a faulty smoke machine... or

- The country looks like a ganja bar in Amsterdam

- Golf courses decide to replace the tiny flags at each hole with miniature lighthouses

- Milli Vanilli called... they told us to just Blame It On The Haze

- I cash in my retirement fund and fly Erin Brockovich here to sue someone's ass off

- The French starts selling us bottled air at premium prices...

TOP TEN THINGS THE ASTRONAUTS WERE THINKING OF AS THEY ACCOMPANIED THE FIRST FEMALE SPACE TOURIST

On the 8 September 2006, Anousheh Ansari became the world's first female space tourist. She blasted off into space in the Russian Soyuz spacecraft together with a two man crew headed to the international space station for their 6 month stint in space. She returned to Earth 10 days later with the outgoing US-Russian crew.

This is what the all male crew really thought about while they were in space with Anousheh.



10. I busted my ass to get to space too... how come she's hogging all the media attention?

9. I hope she knows how to cook. I just had a sudden craving for hummus...

8. We finally got a woman up here and we still have to eat food from tubes...

7. If she asks me if I'm lost one more time..........

6. Who am I supposed to ask directions from? The space debris outside? Aliens? That oncoming... asteroid?

5. For the last time lady... we can't get Oprah in space.

4. I don't care if she paid $20 million for this trip, she is not going to boss me around

3. Now we can't just fart whenever we want anymore

2. Finally... some eye candy.

1. Honestly... the spacesuit does make your ass look kinda big.

Now... before you give me any flak for gender stereotyping, the above are all made up and Ansari was reportedly an efficient crew mate up there in the international space station. So kudos to her.

And secondly, to clarify... this was not lifted from the David Letterman show as some of you have presumed. This Top Ten is produced by me and the reason I'm doing this is really as a tribute to Letterman and also to hopefully convince someone to send me to New York to watch Letterman Live.

But heck... screw New York. Send me to space! Don't be a cheapskate. It's only... what... US$20 million?

CAREER CHANGE

There will come a time in your life when you need to go through a career change. It can be due to many reasons - Better job offer, desire to challenge yourself with something new, getting caught with your pants down after office hours indulging in an office nookie with the girl from Accounting right there on the conference room table...

For me... it's curiosity. Curiosity to find out how another job would feel like. Some of you may feel like that is a dumbass reason to go through a career change. But after being stuck behind a cubicle for so long, I can't help but wonder how it would be like to work in a totally new environment.

The one job I've always been curious of... is that of The Automated Voice. You know, the lady who gets employed to do the calm, soothing and emotionless electronic voice that is used for many purposes, some of them include:



- Announcing the approaching train stop (e.g. "Next stop... Orchard")

- Giving callers instructions (e.g. "For Billing, please press '1'...")

- Expressing gratitude (e.g. "Thank you for banking with DBS"). Or...

- Telling elevator commuters the obvious (e.g. "Going Up")

I just think that it's a cool way to make a living. The only qualification you need... is to have a good voice. Imagine the time I'd save writing that resume.

But I can't help but wonder how one would get such a job since I don't think they accept resumes that says, "Great voice, like a nightingle. It's true. My grandma says so. And she's only deaf in one ear."

So if there are no resumes, how to get such jobs then? Do they get talent spotted while they're waiting on you at the restaurant or do they have to go through auditions? Are the auditions competitive? Is there a "casting couch" for such jobs... where "oral tests" take a whole new meaning?

Or perhaps it could be from recommendations from people you know... "Hey, I have this cousin who has the sweetest voice and I think she'd be the perfect voice for your new In Flight Entertainment System". Or... "My aunt has a gentle motherly voice... perhaps you'd like to consider her for the new Easy Bake Oven". Or... "I know her voice sounds really bad now but she'll sound as good as new after drinking the honey and lemon drink I gave her. You have to understand, she normally doesn't sound that bad. She recently had to go through a lot of... oral tests, that why..."

That said, I still think it's a cool job to have. I mean... it's such a powerful position be in. It doesn't matter how annoying your automated voice is, people will listen to you. You instruct them... and they follow. You put them on hold... and they'll do it. Grudgingly, of course, but they'll do it. They can't slam the phone. If they do, they'll have to go through the whole annoying process again. And again. And again...

Unfortunately, a career as The Automated Voice is not in the cards for me. My voice is too harsh and no amount of oestrogen injections can help change that. Pity... because I feel that I am mentally ready for this new career path.

Except for the bloody oral tests...

EMERGING JOB TRENDS

In a job climate where many people find it extremely difficult to get employment, I'm sure that you'd be surprised to note that there are always new forms of work emerging these days.

For example, when Singapore announced that they will finally allow casinos to operate here, we have scores of new job opportunities, from croupiers... to gambling addiction counsellors. These careers would never have existed in Singapore just a few years ago (being a dealer at an illegal casino run by a loanshark in a brothel at Geylang... doesn't count)

So here is my take at some jobs that could possibly emerge. Time to upgrade your skill sets, people.



- Interpreter... for Singapore Idol judge Jacinta

- Physiotherapists specializing in dance related injuries (to be stationed at the Dance Floor auditions)

- Pronunciation experts... to help Singaporeans pronounce difficult new fangled words like "Biennale"... and "W"

- Event Planners... specializing in events commemorating tragedies caused by nature... and terrorists

- Financial Logisitics Specialists... specializing in moving wealth of ousted politicians out of their home countries.

- Interspecies Liaison Officers... specializing in improving relations between humans and stingrays

- Billanthropists

- Speech Editors... for Venezuelan El Presidente Hugo Chavez


Senor Chavez: Has an innate ability to see... or should I say, smell... el diablo (click here for an excerpt of his speech).

TOP TEN THINGS TO DO AFTER HEARING ABOUT THE MILITARY COUP IN BANGKOK

10. Call your travel agent, cancel your Bangkok trip... and pray they give you a refund

(If that doesn't work and you have to go to Bangkok anyway, this is what you should do...)

9. Get yourself a fake MEDIA pass before flying to Bangkok. It'll help you get around. Best place to get one is in Khao San Road, Bangkok... no wait, that won't work, won't it?

8. Carry roses to hand out to soldiers as peace offerings. The soldiers seem to like that.

7. Watch out for traffic when crossing roads. Tanks have lousy brakes.

6. Get a good map and mark out where to go to in any case of emergency. Good locations would be the temples, embassies... not go-go bars in Nana Plaza.

5. Avoid visiting locations like the Parliament Building, Thaksin's residence... and seedy Patpong go-go bars with one entry and exit point that's run by thugs out to scam you (the last one you should avoid visiting at all times, military coup or no military coup)

4. Pick up a few useful Thai phrases... like "Don't shoot me" or "Where can I buy bullet proof vest?" or "You sure this not an imitation bullet proof vest, right?"

3. Hire Thai boxers as bodyguards. They can double up as entertainment in your hotel room at night (and by that I mean free Muay Thai boxing matches, not some kinky Brokeback action)

2. Hire the tuk-tuk driver from the Visa TV ad with Pierce Brosnan (for quick getaways)



1. Never utter the words "Don't mess with me. I know Mr Thaksin!"

TRAIN SEAT PECKING ORDER

This morning, something fascinating happened while I was on the train. A commuter sat beside me. No, let me rephrase that... she CHOSE to sit beside me. Me. The guy who always get snubbed by commuters on the train... the guy who gets disdained looks from people when they see me seated... just because I happen to take a tiny wee bit more space than the average guy, no thanks to the train designers in the 80s who chose to design the train seats only for Lilliputian-sized Singaporeans.


Fat Man Waiting For Train. photo by sfbuckaroo from flikr www.flickr.com/photos/sfbuckaroo/sets/1535027/

It's like school all over again... it's Phys-Ed class and you are standing there hoping not to be picked last when the team captains are selecting who will be on their teams. Or like the poor girls in a Patpong brothel, sitting pretty in a room fashioned like a fishtank, hoping desperately to get picked by the men looking in (not that I'm at all familiar with this scene. I know because I just... read a lot).

Sure they don't say anything but I can sense that they are quietly fretting within when they see a big guy like me seated on the train, secretly wishing that I wasn't there so that they can sit comfortably and that their head won't have to end up being squished between my broad shoulders and the flat glass panel beside the exit. I don't blame them. No one likes to get squished... eventhough I personally feel fleshy bits of my arm does make for a good pillow.

Anyway, it's never fun to be at the bottom of the heap.

But today, I realized that I wasn't at the bottom of the heap. Because the commuter chose to sit beside me despite the fact that there were a couple of seats just opposite and the only guy seated there was a skinny dude. I pondered on the anomaly of this situation for a while and then, without warning, it struck me. Not the revelation to this anomaly, but a stench... the stench that was emanating from.... the skinny dude.

To put it bluntly... that dude stank so bad you'd think his body is a big bateria colony and all of them are feeding off the all-you-can-eat buffet in his armpits.



At first sight, you wouldn't realize that the stench was from him. His hair was carefully side-parted and he had nice polo t-shirt on. But upon closer inspection, you realize that only the top surface of his side-parted hair was wet while the hairs closer to the scalp were dry, almost crinkly. And the polo t-shirt he was wearing had faint outline near his pits, presumably from dried up sweat stains. And he still had crusts in the corner of his eyes! That led me to presume that skinny dude woke up late so he skipped the morning shower and did the bare minimum before leaving the house. And what's worse? He wore the shirt he wore yesterday. Bad idea...

It was then that I had an epiphany... fat guy trumps skinny guy IF skinny guy is smelly.

And with that, I drew up a pecking order of sorts that determines who is the best and the worst person to sit beside while on a train. Just out of curiosity... to see how low I'd end up in the hierarchy. And lo and behold... I'm actually quite high up there in the pecking order. A deluded exercise? Perhaps. But it does make me feel a tad better when I board the train now.

Whaddya know... I feel better. Blogging really is cheaper than therapy.

So here it is... from the best to the worst person to have seated beside you while on a train-

TRAIN SEAT PECKING ORDER

Someone slim

trumps

Someone plump

trumps

Someone fat

trumps

Someone skinny but smelly

trumps

Someone fat and smelly

trumps

Someone skinny, smelly and picks their nose, roll their boogers up and flicks them indiscriminately

trumps

Someone fat, smelly and picks their nose, rolls their boogers up and flicks them indiscriminately

trumps...

Someone who pukes on the train

And until the day they have roll down windows on the train, guys who pukes on the train... stay at the bottom of the heap...

PRONOUNCING W

I did something terribly bad a few days ago. A local politician was delivering her speech at an event and I accidentally laughed out loud in the midst of her speech. Why? Because she pronounced the word "W" as "tub-you". I haven't heard anyone pronounce "W" that way since.... well, irony of ironies... back in school. By some of my teachers to boot.



I know, I know... it's extremely juvenile to laugh at someone's poor pronounciation. But it was one of those incidents where I just couldn't suppress my laughter. It was like way back when I was 13 and I chuckled to myself when saw a girl at school dangling a sausage by her lips a day after I watched porn for the very first time... knowing what I knew, it was just an extremely amusing sight to me.

Till she bit the sausage off. I never had a sausage ever again.

Back to the politician, I did try my best to hold back the laugh. But she just went on and said "tub-you" three times... because she was quoting a website address. What's worse? The website address she was referring to... didn't have a www in it.

GROWING OLD GRACEFULLY

I saw an old man this morning on the way to work and I couldn't help but stare and admire him. I'm not gay and I don't make it a habit of staring at older men while on the train but by god, at his age, that man looks amazing. Aside from the crocs sandals he was wearing (I can't understand how people can wear that oddly-shaped, technicoloured rubber sandal out in public, I don't care how comfortable you say it is. But I digress... crocs sandals are a whole other can of worms and we'll talk about that at another time), his turnout and bearing made him appear self-composed, assured and worldly wise.


crocs. comfy footwear? yes. to be worn outside in public? no....

The old man reminded me of my recently deceased grandfather and how well he looked when he was alive. In the final months of his life, he never missed his visits to his favourite barber in JB for a trim and a shave and in fact, even in his final days, he made sure we shaved his stubble and trimmed his eyebrows so that he'll look presentable despite being bedridden in hospital as he battled cancer.

Seeing that old man on the train made me realized how important it is to grow old gracefully. So now I pray that with age, I will not grow to:

- Believe that flimsy cotton singlets and striped pyjama pants are de rigueur attire in old age

- Belting up my pants above my belly, citing "better grip" as a reason for doing so

- Not caring that hair so long it threatens to turn into dreadlocks... are growing out of my nostrils.

- Stuffing those dreadlocks back into my nostrils with a Vicks inhaler. In public. And let it dangle precariously as I go about my business.

- Deciding that my colonge of choice in old age is... Axe Brand medicated oil

WELCOME NEW MEMBERS!

Since the post on the American Civil War Ghost In Tuas was featured in Tomorrow.sg recently (thanks guys for picking up on the story... appreciate it), this blog has been abuzz with new visitors... most of them probably curious on the authenticity of my claims. Or they're just wondering what I'm high on when I wrote the piece. Either way... it's all good.

To those people who've just recently had a sneak peek into my convoluted mind filled with a plethora of, well, gibberish... Welcome.

Seems like we're on track on getting our 1,000th visitor soon. Unfortunately, I'm nowhere near getting a sponsorship for the trip to Vegas to that 1,000th visitor that I was very much hoping for in my earlier post. What I can offer though... is my deck of"Girls of FHM" playing cards. It's a tad worn... but it's still good for a few nights of poker.

Maybe our 10,000th visitor perhaps? *fingers still crossed...*

AMERICAN CIVIL WAR GHOST IN TUAS?

I know what you're thinking you read the title. "Huh...?!", right? You're also probably thinking, "What is this damn fool high on to hallacinute this kind of... crap?". But believe you me... I wouldn't be able come up with crap like this even if I tried...

Here's a blow by blow of what happened last night...

I was at my guardpost in Tuas and the night went on like normal. The dogs were quiet, the surroundings still and I was just waiting for the time to pass and for my shift to be over. I clearly remembered the time to be around 3.30am (because I checked my watched at about that time). And it was around this time when I suddenly heard a faint tune.

The weird thing is... it was an old tune from the American Civil War. Granted, I'm no expert when it comes to the Amercian Civil War but I've watched enough Discovery Channel, Alex Hailey's Roots and the North And South miniseries as a child to distinctly recall that tune to be of the American Civil War era.

It was just weird. I knew the tune came from outside my post because it was faint and sounded like it came from a distance. But when I looked out, there was nothing out there. Just to make sure, I even asked the other officer who was with me if the tune was coming from his mobile phone or some other electrical device he owned but he insisted it wasn't. The tune went on and on... looping back again and again.

I wasn't scared but I did feel as if I was in a bad episode of the Twilight Zone. The faint tune finally stopped after about 10 minutes. Then it went all quiet and still once again.

I did some research to find out the title of the tune I heard. After 3 hours of listening to kitsch MIDI files on music from the American Civil War era, I finally stumbled upon the answer. The tune is entitled "Yellow Rose of Texas", a song believed to be written by a soldier from the Confederate states about a girl he loves. Attached is a site which has a link to a MIDI file of the tune I heard.

http://www.nationwide.net/~amaranth/yellow.htm

I recounted this to my colleagues in the morning when our shift was over but they just dismissed it as my tired mind playing tricks on me. I, of course, had a more fantastical theory as to what really happened, which is:

There in Tuas lies the remains of an American Confederate soldier.

Before you dismiss this as hogwash, listen to this - It is a fact that a Confederate ship, the CSS Alabama, was harboured in Singapore in 1863, right in the midst of the US Civil War (i.e. 1861 to 1865). This was reported on the front page of the Straits Times in an article titled "The Alabama" on Saturday, December 26, 1863. You can visit the sites below or just Google "CSS Alabama in Singapore" to get more information.


http://home.ozconnect.net/tfoen/alabamaphoto.htm
http://home.ozconnect.net/tfoen/semmes.htm

The CSS Alabama was in Singapore for supplies. Singapore, being the thriving free port in the exotic Far East, also attracted other American vessels, some of them merchant ships that came here to revel in the riches that came with the thriving entreport trade while others were warships like the Alabama (the USS Wyoming, an American Union ship, was also in Singapore in 1863). The warships' role is to attack and raid other American warships and merchant ships along the Far East shipping route and they would usually end up in Singapore for supplies.

Now, consider this - is it such an impossibility that an American Confederate soldier could have died here? We were once the lawless little island in the exotic Far East. Perhaps one of the sailors had a wild night at the American Club, drank a bit too much, pissed off the locals or some American merchant whose ship got raided one too many times and he unfortunately got butchered while on his way back to The Alabama.

His body was never found, left buried in the swamps for over a century... then during the reclaimation efforts of Tuas in the 90s, the land which was once his resting place got transplanted from where it was originally... to Tuas. It is a longshot... but you have to admit, it is a possibility.

And, the final smoking gun... The Alabama had a nickname, which was "Kapal Hantu" or "Ghost Ship"... well, they called it that because The Alabama had the ability to quietly appear out of nowhere and slip into battle unnoticed since it is one of the fastest and most feared of the Confederacy ships. That said... it's too much of a coincidence, don't you think?

Other than that theory, I really couldn't explain what happened last night. Well, of course there is a simpler explaination - perhaps a Bangladeshi worker, who passed by the area earlier, could've accidentally dropped his mobile phone in the vicinity and his ringtone was incidentally the "Yellow Rose from Texas". And at 3.30am he realized he lost his mobile phone and called his number but of course no one picked it up because the police officers nearby were too freaked out to seek out the source as to where the faint tune was coming from.

But that simpler more realistic theory isn't half as interesting as mine so I'm dismissing it... it's the ghost of an American Confederate soldier, pining to return home to his Yellow Rose from Texas, without a doubt.

But I leave it to you as to what you want to believe. I'm just doing a Dan Brown here...


Pissed Confederate soldier: "I want to call me yellow rose so someone better give back me mobile phone or so help me God I'll blow yer brains out..."

MY LIST

Inspired by My Name Is Earl, I now embark on a path of becoming a better man. My first step is to come up with a list of bad things that I did a long time ago which I deeply regret (though I have to admit it was kinda fun when I did it way back then). I don't know if I'll be able to make good for the wrongs I did. I probably won't. But I do at least get brownie points for my confessions, right?

Here's my list.



#1 Farted in a car, flat out denied it, then went on a rant about how fat people like myself are prejudiced and are always the first to get blamed for things like this.

#2 Copied answers from a girl during a Chinese test back in kindergarten, aced the test, made dad think I was a child genius and unashamedly claimed the rewards.

#3 Called a school prefect a fat pig... causing my whole class to go through detention.

#4 Peed into neighbour's potted plants.

#5 Cheated in cards on many occasions. Too many occasions.

#6 Hustled a friend into buying me lunch for a week by pretending I didn't know how to play carrom.

#7 Pretended to be gay to break up with a girl.

#8 Broke my baby sister's tricycle because I rode it down a flight of stairs then blamed it on the neighbour kid.

#9 Ate chicken skins off other people's fried chicken then denied it was me (though I probably will pay dearly for this later in life).

#10 Gave my Moral Ed teacher a couple of phonebooks for Teacher's Day, telling her she can sit on it while she's driving since she's too short to see out of her windscreen.

MY NEW CAREER IN EMMY ACCEPTANCE SPEECH WRITING

I watched the 58th Emmy Awards last night and as always, everytime I watch such award shows, I always imagined that it was me getting the award. I wouldn't care which category I'd win in. I wouldn't even mind if I had to share it with so many other people that by the time I got myself up the Emmy stage, the music would start playing and the gorgeous usher would be shooing me off backstage. Just want to win.

But it would be nice to have the Emmy all to myself though, me giving a kick ass acceptance speech... something along the line of "My Name Is Earl" producer and writer Greg Garcia's acceptance speech last night... where instead of thanking people, he actually said "no thank you" to people that annoyed him in the past.


Greg Garcia. Image from http://www.eonline.com/Features/Awards/Emmys2006/BestWorst/index11.html

Anyway, for me to actually win an Emmy is kind of a long shot. But I got to thinking... perhaps I can kick start a career in writing other people's Emmy acceptance speeches. I mean, they already have to worry about what to wear, what to say when interviewed by E! on the red carpet, how to best pose so that they don't end up looking like "a-deer-staring-at-a-truck's-headlights-seconds-before-it-gets-run-over" on the tabloids the next day... one lesser thing to worry about would be a godsend.

So here are a few of my draft acceptance speeches. Let me know if I have the chops to pursue a career in this new line of work...

MY EMMY ACCEPTANCE SPEECHES

Acceptance speech No. 1
"Thank you very much for this. First and foremost, I would like to thank the 8th Dynamic Infinity for granting me all this. I would also like to thank Tom... for showing me the true path... and for pulling the necessary strings that led me here. I am forever in your debt. This Emmy win means a lot to me... and hopefully this win will enlighten me and lead me to an evolutionary state to becoming a higher being. Thank you... live long and prosper."

Acceptance speech No. 2
"Oh god... I never expected to win this! It's not easy getting your big break in Hollywood. So I want to thank the guy who made it possible... my ex-pimp, Tricky Zizzle, for believing in me and giving me a job when I first came to LA, penniless and desperate. Thank you also for "hooking" me up *wink at camera* with the big producers, without which I would never get my big break. And finally, thank you also for letting me practice my acting while I'm doing my clients... you don't know how much that has helped me become the convincing actress I am today. Thank you Zizzy."

Acceptance speech No.3
"I have a long list of people that I want to thank but it is impossible to thank everyone within the alloted 30 secs. So here's what I'll do... I'll be taking a picture of myself with this baby *point to Emmy* and email blast it to every single one of you who have made this possible for me. And for those people didn't help make this possible and still got my thank you email, don't worry... it's no accident. It's my way of saying... neh ne neh-neh-neh...."

MY FIRST OPEN MIKE CONTRIBUTOR... GO FIGURE.

This entry is from boojahl (gob-log.blogspot.com) about his misadventures while trying to manoeuvre himself out of a train station while in a semi slumber state.

TALKING ELAVATORS - BE POLITE

This morning, I was on the North East Line train on my way home after my night shift. I haven't done a night shift since 2004, which meant an exhausted me was left sleeping throughout the ride, eyes reduced to a slit, saliva flakes drying up at the corner of my mouth and booger almost dried up in the air-conditioned train to chunks of stretchy tiny dough.



Upon arrival at my station in Punggol, I took the lift from the platform level to the main level. But something peculiar happened the moment I stepped into the lift... a voice suddenly boomed from above! So naturally I looked up, eyes and ears suddenly alert.

The voice was subtle yet carried enough presence. It summoned, "Going up?". Seriously guys, the voice asked me a question. It certainly doesn't sound like telling me 'Going up' but rather ASKING me, 'Going Up?'.

How the hell am I supposed to answer? What if I decided NOT to answer, will the lift still bring me up? Whatever happened to just pressing the button?

I did not dare to take the risk, so I answered politely, "Oh yes, please. Thank you."

The next time you take the train and decide against taking the stairs or escalator, take note.

Prepare to be bemused...and yes, be polite.

Ed's note:

To boojahl - Do not be afraid of technology. Technology is inevitable. One day, not only our elevators will speak to us... our cars, our ovens, our fridge, our tv... everything will start speaking to us, like Kitt in the Knight Rider series. Way cool.


image from http://www.knightriderarchive.com/

Who knows... perhaps even our toilets would speak to us. Though I agree that would be a tad disconcerting, especially if it were to say something like "Sir, for the last time, please stay off the chilli... the air freshener is working on overdrive as it is and this is the 11th time you have used me tonight. It's not like you are paying me overtime..."

To the station masters on the North East Line - Stick to Muzak. You've scared enough early morning commuters as it is...