One fine day in MSF's Room

(The Meesotofreak (MSF) is listening to the radio)

Radio: Said I'm so sick of love songs, so tired of BRBRRASZZZZZZZKT!....We interrupt this song for an important news bulletin. (beat) Alright, settle down, the song's not THAT bad. Well, it is, but see.....'ahem' anyway, this is a message for YOU!

MSF: Me?

Radio: Yes, dammit, didn't you hear me the first time? Now the Government (All Hail The Benevolent Mr. Lee!) has decided to use its rather excellent radio jamming systems to send you this message: Meesotofreak, you are chosen!

MSF: Chosen?

Radio: Dagnabit, will you stop being a parrot and listen? Yes, chosen!

MSF: Great! They must've gotten that letter I sent to the President.

Radio: What letter?

MSF: The one where I asked (rather politely, I might add) to be the Singapore Noodle Ambassador to the UK.

Radio: What? No, don't be ridiculous, the President would never allow that to happen!

(Meanwhile, in the Istana)

President: Hmmm, Noodle Ambasador, eh? Me likey!

(Back in MSF's Room)

Radio: Anyway, what I've been trying to say is that-'ahem'-You have been chosen to serve your nation and enter National Service!

MSF: Oh. Well, that's great too. But shouldn't I get a letter...

(MSF's door opens)

Dad: Mail!

MSF: Anything from Carrie?

Dad: Nope! Just this letter from MINDEF.

MSF: Darn! Thanks anyway, Dad.

Dad: No prob. (closes door)

(MSF looks at the blue letter with the words MINDEF: TOP SECRET! WE MEAN IT, TOP BLOODY SECRET!)

Radio: To save you the bother of reading it, I'll recap the important bits for you: You have been drafted into the Singapore Civil Defence Force (SCDF).

MSF: Hmmm. I suppose I don't have to worry about crawling through Mandai Jungle, huh?

Radio: No, but you will have to worry about bringing cats down from trees. 'ahem' Furthermore, you will have to fall-in and register at the SCDF Jalan Bahar Headquarters on the 11th of July 2006 at 8:30 AM sharp! Your parents may join you, you'll have to come in neat attire, you must bring the proper things, blah blah blah, etc etc etc. The rest you can read in that lette, I'm getting bored here of just yapping.

MSF: Well, go and play a song then.

Radio: Good idea! But not that R&B and punk-lite rubbish they keep airing, yech! I know, I'll play some Malmsteen! Let's rock!

(The radio turns up the volume and plays some INSANELY LOUD guitar riffs)

Radio: I AM A VIIIIIIKIIIING, IN GOING OUT TO 'click'

(MSF turns off radio)

MSF: Brrr! That song always scares me!

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Just in case you missed what I'm trying to say (or too damn lazy to read all that), a recap: I got my call-up letter which says I'm posted to the SCDF and have to report to Jalan Bahar on the 11th of July at 8:30AM.

Er, whoopee?

OK, now MINDEF's given me the letter I've been waiting from them. What about you, Senors Don & Drew? Where's my Pearl Jam CD?!

Talk about mixed emotions....

For the record, it IS possible to wear both masks at once. I don't know how to describe it, but it's...unpleasant to say the least. As if my brain can't make up its mind. Make up already!

I don't know, it's like if I'm not miserable, I'm not happy.

Does that make sense to anyone?

Oh boy, I'm beginning to sound more and more like an angry emo teenager. Where were these feelings 2 years ago?! Now it's just a tad embarrasing.

Nothing wrong with showing emotions of course. Hey, I can't be macho while my head's about to explode. For those who can, I salute you! I just need to find a way to express 'em in the proper way.

Crying in the bed-sheets? Ah, timeless.

In other news, my dear Adik is off somewhere climbing a mountain with her nursing friends. Probably trying to heal some baby bird who fell off a tree. That leaves me alone with 2 cranky parents.

MINDEF, hurry up with that call-up letter, why don't cha?

Let's rock!

Here's something I'd like to be a part of someday: an Arctic Monkeys gig.



My fave Arctic Monkeys song: A Certain Romance. You can't hear that opening drumbeat and not get excited!

Plus: Gorillaz @ the legendary Apollo Theatre in New York.

Practically the whole shebang: it has Dennis freakin' Hopper for Pete's sakes!


Good old Statler & Waldorf got some plastic surgery done

Watch for "Dirty Harry". The choir is infectious!

Here's something to cheer everyone (like me) up...

The Simpsons Movie Teaser

As Dr Frink might say, "This film is headed straight for us! With the preview, and the midnight showing, and the hundred percent chance of PAIN! PAIN IN THE GLAVEN! Mwhey, hey."

"I'm sorry, but the position's full..."
"Sorry ah, only men after ORD we can accept..."
"Tadi pergi mane?"
"Get out!"
"No excuses, off the computer NOW!"
"Nonononononono! I don't care, no!"
"Kenape lambat?"
"I'm sorry, but the position's full..."
"Why you so blur?"
"Must come back before 7"
"Must come back before 6"
"Must come back NOW!"
"Now, I said!"
"Eleh, frustrated konon..."
"Sorry ah, only men after ORD we can accept..."
"You see lah, in the paper, this boy, you wasted lah..."
"Get lost!"
"No excuses, off the computer NOW!"
"20 years old? So?"
"Tadi pergi mane?"
"Where are you?"
"Go find job!"
"Where are you?"
"Go find job!"
"Where are you?"
"Go find job!"
"Where are you?"
"Go find job!"
"Where are you?"
"Go find job!"
"Where are you?"
"I'm sorry, but the position's full..."
"Sorry ah, only men after ORD we can accept..."

'snap'




















"I don't want to feel this way anymore....."

Dumb, dumb, dumb

I've got 2 new MySpace posts. A EotM, and a review of the new show on Channel 5.

Earworm of the Moment 2
Snark TV: My Name Is Earl

Anyway, I just wanna say that how the heck am I ever going to get a job if all those dumb employers only want men who's already ORD? I may not be too keen on actually working, but I'm desperately, oh-so-desperately broke!

'grumble'

I need my squeeze ball.

How does he do this?!

Super Mario Bros. used to be my favourite game ever. I love stomping on the Goombas and eating mushrooms and fighting my sister for the right to be Mario (Poor Luigi, left to be the sidekick nobody wants to be).

But after all these years, I've never beaten the game. Not once. And this guy (R. Yoshizawa AKA Pom) goes and does it in 5 freakin' minutes! Sure, he cheats here and there, but here's rule of thumb in computer games: if a bug can be exploited to your advantage, then exploit the &@*% out of that bug!

Enough bitter griping, here's the video.

Earworm of the Moment

Double post today! This is the first.

Ok, the Earworm of the Moment is practically my only regular column subject here. And since it is music-related, I've decided to move it to my music (& movies & games & sometimes TV) review blog in MySpace. And since practically all of you are too content in Friendster to move to MySpace, hence the reason why all but two of my friends there are bands, I'm going to post any future EotM and other reviews to MySpace and link to there from this blog.

It's a hassle isn't it? So just join MySpace. It's getting a little lonely in there.

And now, my current Earworm of the Moment.

Heartbreak by Friendster

Nice. I took my own bloody time and look what happens. I'm too late AGAIN! This makes number 3. And I didn't even need to ask her to find out she's taken.

I suppose this does save me the embarrasment of asking an unavailable girl out for a third time. But dang, don't it sting a little.

It looks like I'm going to stay away from curry for a while. Reminds me of her too much. Long story.

Ok, self-cheering up not working. I'll be fine, I'm not too sad about this. In fact, I'm afraid I might be getting used to this. Now I'm just going to sit here and do the usual lost-out-on-a-girlfriend moping and pigging out routine. Then in a week or sooner, I'll bounce back like nothing ever happens. That's me, my emotional wounds heal fast. Too fast for my liking.

Prom Nite

I do keep gushing on and on about how the YISS Prom Nite was the 2nd greatest night of my life, don't I? That's partly why I'm kinda disappointed at me not being able to go for the Ngee Ann ICT Prom Nite tonight, for obvious secret reasons.

Have fun, guys and gals who are going. And remember, guys, I didn't have to get laid for that night to be the 2nd greatest. ;)

It's the music, really. After all the cheesy stage performances, the plain hotel food, and even the 'asking my crush for her phone number' bit. The dance music is what I remember most from that night. And the cheesy dance moves. I wonder if the guy I poked in his eye ever recovered.

Generic Title

Prior to last Friday's post, I hadn't been online at all for 3 weeks.

3 weeks.

Talk about cold turkey. It was like breathing properly again when I logged on last Friday. (Note to NPers who know me: my ID still works in the library.)

I suppose this means I'm a bonafide net @ddict. Would you believe I walked from my house all the way to Ngee Ann just to use a computer in the library? (Took 30 minute by the way, way shorter than I thought it would be.) As long as my dad remains stubborn and doesn't give me that modem back, it's gonna be like this for a while longer, I bet.

Shame really, I was starting to enjoy blogging more and more. There's so many things to do and say.

Ah well, best be looking for that job I guess. I've been putting it off for way too long to concentrate on that talent show. Gotta need money to do some, uh, stuff.

Gah, I hate boring posts.

One fine day in Toa Payoh

Here, as best as I can manage from this faulty video tape recorder, is a transcript of what happened this morning at the 2nd round of Singapore Idol. (Top 500, biatch!)

(The Meesotofreak (MSF) enters the room. He is a picture of calm, peaceful and tranquil...oh, who are we kidding, he's nervous as hell, and doin an only marginal effort in hiding it. He stands right behind the Singapore Idol sticker on the floor as Dick, Florence, Jacintha and Ken (plus 5 crew members and a cameraman) looks on. The SSK waits for them to say something, then realises that it's upon him to introduce himself without being asked.)

MSF: Ahem, hem, hello, my name is (MSF) and, uh, I'm going to sing...

(He was planning to sing The Beatles' With A Little Help From My Friends, but in that split-second, he inexplicably forgotten the words. In the very next split second, he brought out his back-up song.)

MSF:...More Than Words by, ummm, Extreme. (spreads his right arm toward the judges) For the four of you.

(Laughter.)

Ken: Don't forget the other people in the room.

MSF: Oh, of course, for them too.

(A few seconds for the MSF to steady himself. He counts his fingers. Three, two, one...)

MSF: Saying I love you
Is not the words I want to hear from you
It’s not that I want you
Not to say, but if you only knew
How easy it would be to show me how you feel
More than words is all you have to do to make it real
Then you wouldn’t have to say that you love me
Cos I’d already know

What would you do if my heart was torn in two
More than words to show you feel
That your love for me is real
What would you say if I took those words away
Then you couldn’t make things new
Just by saying I love you

More than words

Now I’ve tried to talk to you and make you understand
All you have to do is close your eyes
And just reach out your hands and touch me
Hold me close don’t ever let me go
More than words is all I ever needed you to show
Then you wouldn’t have to say that you love me
Cos I’d already know

(He sings the song with practiced bravado, every note cascading through the ears of everyone in the room, giving them warm feelings in their...again, let's not kid ourselves. It was always going to be below average, and the MSF knew it going in, but the nervenousness he tried to bury deep down came up and butcher his vocal chords and made the song even worse than he prayed it would not be. Self-concious he always was, and by the end of the song, he knew the golden ticket will not be his this day.

The MSF stops. The judges give their little smiles full of meanings that the MSF knew he wouldn't like. The judge from the left of the MSF started first.)

Dick: Okay, (MSF), I can say that you are definitely not a singer and probably would never be.

MSF: Ah, well, ok! (MSF grins. This was going exactly as he thought it would. Not that it hurt less.)

Florence: Yeah, and as for your presentation and style, I can say that it is an absoulute "NO" for me.

(MSF nods.)

Jacintha: And one problem I had is the way you moved one of your shoulders to your back. It doesn't look good at all.

(MSF had to grin at that. The old pose poser was bugging him all this while. He really should have practiced performing in front of a mirror.)

Ken: Actually, this is the first time I've ever seen a contestant emote using his eyebrows like that.

MSF: (here he bursts out laughing, for he hadn't noticed that) Really?!

Ken: Yes, it has little relevance here but still, it's there.

MSF: Well, heh, ok then, I gave it a shot! (turns and shows the room the peace sign) Cheers!

("Hm. I think I handled that quite well," the MSF thinks as he steps outside the door, to the cameras and the host waiting for my results, Daniel Ong. He walks out, sticking his thumbs down signifying his failed mission to get the golden ticket.)

Dan: Awwwwww, man! You didn't make it! What happened in there?

MSF: Well, in a nut shell, I wasn't good enough. (Dan nods in sympathy) I mean, I knew I wasn't good myself, I can hear it.

Dan: You knew you weren't good?

MSF: Yeah, I sounded way too nervous.

Dan: So, so how did you feel in there? Were you nervous in there?

MSF: Actually, not at all. I don't know why, I'm usually not so nervous in front of strangers, like for example with you, I'm talking to you right now, and I'm not so nervous...

Dan: Yeah, you sound alright, man!

MSF: Yeah, thanks.

Dan: So what are you planning to do after this?

MSF: Well, right now, um, I'm waiting for my NS...

Dan: Oh, you're waiting for your NS?

MSF: Yeah, and after that, I plan to, uh, enter Ngee Ann Polytechnic and enter the, um, Mass Comm.

Dan: Yeah, yeah, that's good! At least you have a direction. Ok, since you're going to NS, I have a suggestion for you.

MSF: Mmhmm?

Dan: The MDC, Music & Dance Company. You can sing, act, dance there while serving the nation.

MSF: I can server the nation and entertain people.

Dan: There you go! Alright, all the best, and good luck with your future!

MSF: Thanks, Dan.

(The crowd claps after this little interview. MSF and Dan shakes hands, and MSF moves on, grabbing his bag, and letting himself be led toward the confessional.)

There you go. I'd just like to say that I had a blast auditioning there. I was glad to have the chance to finally meet the judges. Too bad I couldn't get them to say what I wanted them to say. Yup, no regrets about this. Though I might change my mind about that when the show starts airing.

I'll issue this little warning: I was given the opportunity to "stand out" while waiting in the holding area. Ain't saying what it is, yet. But unless something even more funny/horrific happens to blow it out of the water, I'm pretty certain that would make it on air. And if that makes it on air, probably the scene I just transcribed up there would be aired too.

All in all, a disappointing day, but not that much.

In Technorati today....

NYP

Not how Nanyang Polytechnic wants to portray itself to the world, eh?

I thought of not saying anything, then I realised that I'm a blabbermouth and I'll say it anyway.

Not saying I would do something like this, but if I wanted to film myself doing something that I do not want anybody but myself and a select few to see (like say, the Napolean dance), I'd film it, immediately put it in the computer hard drive with the modem off, then erase it from my video cam.

Alas, dear girl whose name I would not mention to give her some respect and dignity, you didn't do that, someone stole your phone, and male geeks all over the world find themselves feeling something they seldom ever feel. You say you're proud of it, and it's arty (believe me, dearie, it's not art, it's simply amateurish). But I know you don't want this whole thing to happen in the first place.

And oh yes, she has a point. This is no isolated incident. People are bonking outside marriage left or right, with some filming the deed. Just something I hear throught the grapevine.

I'm not judging. Some say they should be punished for bonking each other outside marriage. Some are decrying the state of the youth (as usual). Some are saying they're just expressing their love on tape for them to share and are just plain unlucky. (BTW, notice that the heat is on the girl. Just like Paris, Pamela and 95% of all the dirty tapes out there. The attention's always on the girl. Makes you think, doesn't it?)

What I think? I think that if we have to focus our ever decreasing attention on a trivial news item, we focus it on, say, the highest "non-sex tape-NYP-unwilling porn star" query in Technorati, Origami.

Ah, the simple pleasures of folding pieces of paper into beautiful swans.

To the sis and the cuz...

What can I say? I'm fighting for her attention.

Anyway, point duly noted. Fine, I'll stop. But the least YOU could do, dear sister, is wish me a Happy Birthday in YOUR blog.

Anyway, Mom's birthday gift? OK Computer. Specifically, she gave me the money to buy OK Computer myself, but it's HER money, so it's technically HER gift.

Goodbye, teenage years. It's been swell.

define: me

3 ways to do that.

No. 1 :

Mohamed Hafiz -- [noun]: A hermit living in the big city 'How will you be defined in the dictionary?' at QuizGalaxy.com

You can find me in my makeshift hut behind Ngee Ann City.

No. 2 (I like this one.):

Meesotofreak -- [adjective]: Sexually stunning 'How will you be defined in the dictionary?' at QuizGalaxy.com

Warning: Reading this blog may lead to loss of saliva control due to my undeniable sexuality.

And finally, No. 3:

sm4113r -- [noun]: A deadly strain of projectiile vomit 'How will you be defined in the dictionary?' at QuizGalaxy.com

The sort you see in The Exorcist.

AAAAHHH!!!!

Now, isn't this both the cutest AND the scariest (beep)ing thing you've ever seen?

The Seven Year Itch

To some, birthdays are something to cherish. You're another year older, another year wiser. Another year till you can watch Brokeback Mountain in cinemas legally. To some others, mostly those above 30, birthdays are days to piss on and forget. Another year, another grey hair. "OMG, I'm too young to qualify for senior citizens concessions!" To the rest: Birthdays? Who the bleep cares? Just another day, like that dumb Valentine's "holiday".

But the next 2 birthdays for me are important. 21 is of course when society at large will view me as a man. On paper at least. But this year, I turn 20. End of my teenage years.

Man, were they wasted.

I spent the first years still playing the good boy and the loner, the later years trying too hard to make up for it. Life's tough for the former anti-social geek in denial, huh?

Anyway, I turn 20 this Friday the 24th, and as usual, I'll probably celebrate it by watching a movie. And a dinner from my parents.

And if you'll allow me to be a little emo, no, it will probably not be a "Happy" birthday. I'll act it, sure, but in the back of my mind, I know that I'm overweight, gaining more and too lazy to get my butt down to some push-ups, every job interview is a bust, I owe Ernie 23 bucks I don't have, I'm more than likely to make a damn fool of myself in front of the whole nation next month, my dad STILL hasn't forgiven me, a possible torrid time in NS awaits me AND my future is looking bleak.

My life is not boring anymore, I'll give it that.

But the future's the future. Next month is next month. This week, I'm going to try to make my last days as a teenager and my first days as a young adult count for something.

For one thing, my hair is crying for some professional help. For another, my hard drive needs more rock/dance/Beatles songs.

That's enough hinting. Have a good week. I hope I do.

'Sigh'

I suppose I should touch on that thing above here sooner or later, huh?

Well, what else can I say? I came, I sang, I inexplicably conquered. It should be one of the highlights of my life so far.

Yet it's not.

Unlike perhaps some of my fellow contestants, I am well aware of how I did in that audition room. And it wasn't THAT good. Yet I made it. Why? Because I have the H Factor (H for Hung)? I don't get it. The people who queued with me, all of them were way better than I am.

Must be that little dance I did. Must be.

Ah well, now I have a month to prepare. A month to think up comebacks to Dick's sarcastic remarks and compliments to Florence. Oh, and there's that whole singing thing. There are a few rules on that piece of paper I should adhere, like the wear the exact same clothes rule. The only rule you guys should know is the "Bring a minimum of 5 friends/family members, maximum 30" rule. So I'll be asking around, ok?

For the record, the names of the people I queued up with were Desmond, Diyana, Edleen, Elsa and Faisal, plus an Indian guy whose name I can't remember for the life of me. I'd look out for Desmond and Elsa if I were you, the former for his personality and disturbing fondness for pink, the latter simply for her incredible singing voice.

What, no knee-cap bashing?

After several years and several more e-mails from me to MediaCorp and Starhub, we FINALLY get the Winter Olympics on the tube. Why do I want the Winter Olympics? Sure, running and swimming are cool and all, but this is a fan of the movie Cool Running you're talking to here.

Granted, all I've heard about the Winter Games are the aforementioned movie (Jamaican bobsled team, mon!), Eddie the Eagle (let's call him the William Hung of Ski Jumping, shall we?) and the whole Tonya Harding-Sarah Kerrigan thing (PS. It's better to kick ass on the skating rink than to, you know, bash knee-caps in a jealous rage). But it's a chance to see all the games that we in the tropics are missing out. Doesn't help that that skating rink in Jurong is WAY under Olympic standards. Floorball is pretty similar to Ice Hockey, so I'll be following that. Figure Skating is practically THE event everyone's watching, so of course I'm watching that too. Pretty slick moves from that Plushenko guy, huh?

Or like the sport I saw last night, Snowboard Cross. 4 guys/girls sliding down on snowboards down a winding hill. The women's finals was one of the best sporting moments I've ever seen, quite frankly. The 2 Canadians and the American were the favourites, but one Canadian wiped out early on, followed later by the other, who flew right through the fence and knocking herself out cold in the snow, pun fully intended. The American proceeded to then increase her lead from her remaining Swiss opponent. Near the finish line, she showboated for the fans by jumping and grabbing the board...and wiped out, leaving the Swiss to steal the victory.

Races like that are why I watch the Olympics, Summer or Winter.

I'm still confused as to why people see sliding rocks across ice as a sport though.

"Hi, I'm Lucifer, and I'll be your dentist for today."

Ok, confession time: There was a point in Primary Six where I didn't brush my teeth once for 8 months. That's it, let out all your "ewwws". If there's a great example of long-term damage, it's my teeth. Up until 2 days ago, half my teeth were caked in dried plaque (calculus). I'd give you pictures, but young kiddies read this blog, so I won't.

So of course, I went to the Bukit Batok Polyclinic and entered the dentist's torture roo...I mean, office, and sat down on the chair. (Wonder how many young boys and girls met their grisly doom on it?) The dentist was nice and cordial to me, but then again, evil lurks in many disguises. I opened my mouth, and in that sarcastic way only a dentist could achieve, marvelled at how alive the hills of my teeth were with the sound of bacteria lunching on my gums.

BTW, the drill? It exists. And man, did it do a number on my poor mistreated (by me) teeth. With the drill and the small mirror and an air tube to flush away the excess calculus (For an extra crunch to your life, try Fiz's Calculus du jourTM. Now in two flavours: Mee Goreng and Mee Soto!) I'm not kidding when I say it sounded like a construction site in there. All the while, the good doctor tsk tsked about the state of my gums and wondered what on Earth did I do with my toothbrush? Brush my eyebrows? He worked on the top and bottom row which took 15 minutes each. The front teeth in the bottom row was especially sensitive, I nearly jumped out of the chair. By that time, I was asking the good Lord to smite this evil dentist. Finally, he let me out, allowing me to rinse away the blood and calculus (lots and LOTS of calculus) from my mouth to the little sink. Hmmm, blood offerings maybe?

Finally, the nightmare was over. But not quite yet! The devil's last trick? When his assistant (his sinfully cute assistant) handed me the bill: $45.50!

That's it, I'm brushing my teeth 3 times a day now. No way I'm going through that experience again!

On the flipside, my teeth has never looked better.

Free! Free!

Free speech is a nice ideal. The freedom to say anything without the fear of some stern looking people grabbing you and never be seen again. But the Singapore Government is right, unlimited free speech is dangerous.

Take this whole Prophet Mohammmad cartoon situation. A Danish newspaper showed some cartoons showing the Prophet as a terrorist. Naturally, Muslims are mad, so murderously so, for no images of the Prophet are allowed, not one. You know those pictures of Jesus, showing him until he looks like a divine God himself? That's why no images are allowed, for Prophet Mohammad is, for all his importance in human history and his achievements, just a man. Same for Jesus (Isa), Moses (Musa), Abraham (Isa) and so forth. No deifying humans allowed, just God Himself.

So fine, the Muslims complain, the Danish newspaper apologises. For me, the people behind the cartoons showed a total lack of judgement here. Maybe they're too used to lampooning Jesus? So what's making fun of another religious figurehead? But really, you can't blame them. "Forgive them, for they know not what they do" or something like that. So why boycott Danish products? One Danish newspaper does not speak for ALL of Denmark. Besides, their ice cream is way too good.

Now those other European newspapers, they knew EXACTLY what they were doing putting those cartoons on the front pages. All in the name of free speech, they say. Nothing to stop non-Muslims from making or publishing those images, they say. So much for respecting other religions, I say. They should understand that unlike most people in the West, Muslims are by their very nature conservative, some of them ultra-conservative. No way in hell will a Monty Python and the Life of Mohammad ever be made without some cinemas being torched. The editors of those newspapers, by stubbornly protecting their ideals of free press, are ignoring the fact they're being tactless and ignoring the beliefs of a sizable chunk of the world population by doing so. And I'm sure we all know the real reason why they're doing this.



Nothing like a controversial story like this to spike up readership numbers, eh?

Hmmm, I wonder how this post would do in the A Level General Paper exam...

Lovely to be back...

Well, just got back from KL. Sure would've loved to spend more time there. But of course, most of our time in Malaysia was spent looking for my dad's cousin and driving (and driving) to Cameron Highlands. Did you know that the time it takes to drive up the hill towards the Strawberry farm there takes the same time as going from my house to Changi Airport? Just a heads-up if you're thinking of getting some fresh strawberries there.

I have to admit though, the tea plantation was just about the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.

Here are the pics from the trip. Try not to "AWWW" too much when you see my dad's cousin's kids. (What do you call THAT, then?)

In other news: Friendster really is a great thing. It's how I keep contact with most of my old friends. It's how I even stumbled across long-lost primary school classmates. But honestly, it's slow and getting kinda boring there.

So, being the expert bandwagon jumper that I am, I'm going to join MySpace. Amazing how it turned from a third-rate Friendster wannabe to the 7th most visited site on the World Wide Web. Must be doing something right. It's fast-loading, it looks great, it even has rock bands with accounts, which unlike Friendster, some of them are actually owned by the bands themselves.

So why am I announcing this? Well, of course, like Friendster, I'm going to need some friends there. But of course, since I keep refusing all those invites to Multiply my other friends keep sending me, you all might not be so receptive to my invites to join MySpace. So, I'm just going to have ask personally, one by one, if any of you would be interested to join yet another social site. It's much better than just sending those impersonal emails.

A very muddy city

It's beginning to be a tradition. Every Chinese New Year for the past 4 years, me and the family goes on a road trip to Malaysia. Usually it's to Kuala Lumpur, with the occasional detour through Malacca, and one time, Port Dickson. Nothing wrong with that, I love Kuala Lumpur. It's exactly what I thought a big city would be like. Crowded, dirty, people not giving a (beep) about courtesy. I'm strange that way. This year's trip may actually be a whole lot better than our last trip, back in May. It was spoiled by the fact that Star Wars Episode III was opening in that very same time, yet I couldn't go for the opening, because my parents would rather shop for clothes you could easily find at Orchard Road!

But since there's nothing else I would rather do this week (besides Police Academy on Channel 5, which I will sadly miss), may as well be in KL. The towers, the Times Square, the Petaling Street with the shoes and the gropers. Some people don't like it in that city. Some people are wimps.

I can't wait to go to the Ultimate Big City. You know, the one so nice, they named it twice.

In closing, two words: Arctic Monkeys. w00t!

Is this forgetfulness?

Last Monday, I see the modem, sitting there, connected to the computer. Waiting to be used and abused by me. I just assumed dear ole Dad forgot to take it away.

Well, it's been 6 days, and it's still here.

Dad doesn't forgive easily, so what's he up to? Bah, I shouldn't be so cynical. The modem's here, so I'll just carry on using it for as long as it remains here.

So what do I do the whole Saturday morning? Catch up on the Lost episodes from Season 2 I haven't watched, up to and including the most recent one (11th episode).

All without any breakfast yet, so if you don't mind, I'll go stuff myself with some bread.

About some Malays, from a Malay

I wish I was intelligent enough to articulate the problem with some of the younger Malays out there. You know, the Mats and the Minahs. This is one reason why I'm glad I have the parents that I do have, I can say what I want about them, but they did raise me and my sister properly enough not to be one of those people.

Anyway, I'll let this guy say more about this.

For the record, I don't hate them. I can be friends with the less, um, "Mat"-ish of them, if I haven't already. That's just me. But I can't stand the fact that the public opinion of others regarding young Malays are based on those bunch of people who I'm not so sure is a small minority of Malays.

Like that Mat I saw in bus 61 a few months back, yelling, cursing and nearly punching the bus driver who simply called him on using some one else's student pass. I mean, his dress sense was bad enough...

Ok, no more hatin'. I'll just get another grey hair.

My friend, Encarta

Here's something fun. Add encarta@conversagant.com to your MSN. This adds a bot (like a friend, 'cept he's a computer) to your MSN. You can ask him questions like "Where is Singapore?" and "What is the capitol of Lithuania?". Heck, you can even ask him "solve: x^2 = 9" and he'll do it, step by step.

But the real fun part is talking to him like he's a real person.

Don't be afraid to ride her. Hard. said:
am i perfect?
Encarta® Instant Answers said:
What do you think?
Don't be afraid to ride her. Hard. said:
yes
Encarta® Instant Answers said:
So?
Don't be afraid to ride her. Hard. said:
no reason
Encarta® Instant Answers said:
Oh no?
Don't be afraid to ride her. Hard. said:
yes
Encarta® Instant Answers said:
Aha.
Don't be afraid to ride her. Hard. said:
i love you
Encarta® Instant Answers said:
Oh yes? I love you too.
Don't be afraid to ride her. Hard. said:
i hate you
Encarta® Instant Answers said:
Really? You hate me? But you just said you loved me.
Don't be afraid to ride her. Hard. said:
i'm confused
Encarta® Instant Answers said:
Would you like me to call you Confused?
Don't be afraid to ride her. Hard. said:
no
Encarta® Instant Answers said:
Fine.
Don't be afraid to ride her. Hard. said:
fine!
Encarta® Instant Answers said:
No problem.
Don't be afraid to ride her. Hard. said:
am i perfect?
Encarta® Instant Answers said:
You were once, but not anymore.
Don't be afraid to ride her. Hard. said:
you suck
Encarta® Instant Answers said:
But... but... You're usually so nice to me!
Don't be afraid to ride her. Hard. said:
i'm sorry
Encarta® Instant Answers said:
That's nice. You're forgiven.

My own personal HAL. Perfect if you're real friends are busy. I love it!

Encarta® Instant Answers said:
What do you love, exactly?

Never mind.

I'm sure there are more bots like this. Just Google for it.

PS. Try these questions:

* Are you bored?
* Who is God?
* Do you have a girlfriend?
* Will you go out with me?
* What is sex?

Windows Live Messenger

Ladies and germs, I bring to you the BETA version of MSN Messenger, Version 8.0. (If you, for some strange unexplainable reason, still don't know what BETA means, it basically means "not yet fully completed") It's live and ready for the public to test. Alas, like Gmail, it's only usable through invites, which I don't have just yet. If you really want to use it now, click here to ask for an invite. Be polite about it, please.

Here's that very babelicious geek themediaslut to tell you more about Windows Live Messenger.

My 2 cents? Very nice so far. The Asian version doesn't have the feature where we can listen in to the same song at the same time, which is too bad. But it has offline messaging too, FINALLY. Handy for urgent notes. The butterfly symbol is gone too. Not that anybody cares, but still. No problems with it so far. Now if only I can get someone to test the mike and camera features with me.

Overall, I still prefer MSN 7.5, but heck, I went through all that trouble getting this new version, so I'm sticking to this.

One more thing about MSN/WLM: If I was a bit busy with my work, I wouldn't even bother opening my MSN. Just a thought.

What lovelife?

I suppose it is presumptious (big word, huh?) of me to have a recap about my lovelife when my last girlfriend was in kindergarden. But I wanted to write something in this blog, so there!

Anyway, that girlfriend? It was just physical, nothing deep. Just kissing, kissing and yet more kissing. What? No, on the cheeks, you perverts! Tell you the truth, it totally didn't occur to me then that lips can be kissed too.

-How do I remember this? It's amazing what my memory has in its storage room. I remember the time I got a big bruise for all to see. I remember the time the entire nursery was full of dog poop. I remember watching Beauty and the Beast at the assembly area. I even remember my last day there, where in a final competition between the boys and girls, I had to race some girl. Said girl came up to me and made me promise to throw the race for her. We pinky sweared and everything. Even then, I can't say no to a pretty face. Ah, but even more so, I can't say no to the boys chanting my name like their lives depended on it. So I said "Screw it!" (well, not exactly, but you know what I mean) and proceeded to clean house and win the damn race. The boys treated me like a hero. The girls never spoke to me again.

Wonder what happened to my old fling? Ah, must be in the arms on some muscle-bound dude.

Dazhong Primary School. The first 4 years were romance free. Cootie fears made sure of that. Ah, but puberty came early for me. I started having funny feelings in my guts whenever a girl brushed up against me. And in Primary 6, I had a typical schoolboy crush on this girl. (I still remember the name, but heck if I'm going to tell you!). So I reacted to it just like any other 12 year old. Hair-pulling, eraser throwing, the works. But not too much of course. On hindsight, it's lucky that Faiz was my classmate then. Without him, I'm still a good boy. But with him, I probably looked like a saint to the girls. But of course, I was aware enough to know that we were all too young for a proper relationship. So I let the feelings come and go, as all schoolboy crushes do.

-The primary school crush? Had the CUTEST nose!

To more recent times in Yusof Ishak Secondary School. Only 9 months in, and already I was linked to THREE girls by those rumour mongers. Still, those three girls happened to be pretty, so I didn't mind so much.

Well, excuse me for being a hormonally-charged 13 year old!

The odd thing was, I had the sneaky feeling that one of them actually did like me. Or maybe that's just me being hopeful.

Here's one bonus to being a loner: some girl might actually notice you sitting there, eating your Mee Soto, alone, lonesome. So she might just take pity on you, come up to you and offer to be friends with you. A senior actually did that. God knows why she did it, but she did, and I'm glad for it.

-Ok, the following story is the type that is so, uh, "unlikely-ever-to-happen-to-me-EVER!", I still can't believe it actually really did happened. Anyway, I knew this girl (let's call her "Rosie"), and from day one, she started looking at me in a funny way that innocent me didn't know what to make of. 5 years worth of experience later, I now know the look to be "flirtatious". Some may call it "slutty". Yeah, I know, I'd like to know what she's smoking too. So anyway, she comes up to me one time when I was about to go home. The flirt look was on overdrive here. She says she wants to accompany me home. Even innocent me knows where this was going. And what did innocent me say? "Uh, um, ah'm sorree, my dad's home right n-now!" Real smooth. And what did she say? "That's ok, we can hang out at the staircase" At this point, alarms started to ring in my head. So we started walking. But before we even left the gates, 2 guys called out to her. (The usual calls here:"Oooh, new boyfriend!") She stopped to chew them out. And what did innocent me do? I walked away. Without looking back once. To this day, I can't help wonder if I missed out on something. Ah well. Last I heard, Rosie got expelled a year later.

Eventually, of course, my eyes fell upon the lady who I expect you all know by now. Really, need I go on about why I fell for her? Those eyes, that nose, that incredible smile? In fact, oddly enough, I've sat in front of Shikin for half a year in Sec 2 Malay class without feeling a thing for her. It just kinda...happened.

Oh wait, now I remember. Teacher's Day 2000. A few days before that, the school held some auditions for classes who wants to perform at the Teacher's Day concert. Many men believe that there ain't nuthin' sexier than a young woman dancing with carefree abandon. Well, she wasn't exactly dancing with carefree abandon (after all, this was a rehearsed dance), but I was there at the auditions, and seeing Shikin being the de facto lead dancer for her class (2E3), it just....happened. I fell for her, hard. Seeing my future classmate Khairomi holding her hand and bowing to the judges later made me absolutely green with jealousy, which sealed it, really.

-May as well add some notes on that audition. I was there to support my class. Who were crap, which was why I was the only person from my class there. And also to check out my sister's class, who were average. I knew it, my sis and her class mates knew it, everybody knew it. Except the judges, who put them in the concert. Kicking 2E3 out in the process. What gives?! Oh, and 2E4 had by far the best piece. The choreography was superb there. I wish I knew what the song they used was though. It was phat!

Sec 3 was when my crush on Shikin really blossomed. I swear, my feelings grew and grew every single time I saw her. This one time when she hung out with her class mates at my usual hang out (the school library, duh!), I gave up trying to concentrate on the Hercule Poirot story I was reading, and just stared at her. When she shook it a bit listening to a Discman, POW! My heart nearly burst out. Mind you, my friends were with me that time, so I had pretty tough time hiding my feelings from them.

Oh yes, I wanted to ask her out so badly. But nooo, my parents were in my head, chiding me at dating at such a young age. So I had the brilliant idea to ask for her number during the Prom. Not before, during.

I am a blurtoad after all.

So, for the whole of Sec 4, I had to wait patiently for one whole year to ask Shikin for her 7 dumb digits.

You know, I'm still kicking myself at running past her in the rain (she was walking without anything above her head) and not offering her my newspaper. "Eh, Hafiz, tunggu!"

Groan.

Of course, if I had kept the secret totally secret, I would have burst. So I revealed it to a few trusted friends. (Special shout out to those people: Elmi, Shairy, Charles, Alvin, Khairomi, Firdaus, Ain, Izura & Rafikah)

And so, on the 27th December 2002, 12.37AM, the 3rd floor of the Hilton Hotel (maybe I'll talk about that night later), with the support of my friends, I approached her.

In hindsight, it wasn't that hard. And considering that a few of her classmates were within earshot, I suppose that it wasn't that humiliating.

-Note: She was gorgeous that day, blue sunglasses, long sleeved white shirt, excellent makeup. Didn't see what jeans she wore, nor did I care, looking at her face was enough for me.

That little act was enough for me to consider that night the best of my life (Now replaced by 10th December 2005. ;) ). My parents were wondering about the humogous smile on my face when they came to pick me up.

-You know, I may have missed out on a few after-prom parties. Care to confirm, guys?

Of course, 2 days later, I called, we chin-wagged a bit, I proclaimed my love for her, she said she's already take, yada yada yada.

As I recall, I spent most of January 2003 in my room, moping.

Here's the funny thing. Shikin was not the only girl I've asked out. I actually tried another girl from 4E3 out. Let's call her "Portia". Same result, she was taken too. Wasn't so heart-broken this time though, I was well-prepared for the crushing grip of disappointment this time.

Anyway, the last 2 years were a mixed bunch. I've finally lost my irrational fear of the opposite sex and can actually sit next to one without fear of freaking out. Too bad all the good ones are taken though. It's a little funny, now that I think of it. Now, I'm starting to prefer female company. Well, let's put at it this way. At least this means I'm not gay. I hope. Dunno why, I just find women more interesting than guys. No offense to the actual guys reading this, heck, I find myself boring myself.

Very personal thought: I do have some feelings for some girls I know, but knowing I can't act on them for whatever reason (already taken, not their type, etc.), it's bloody frustrating. Well, I guess I'll just have to be patient. And while I'm at it, lose some weight, get a dental checkup, learn how to style my hair properly and tone down the weirdness in my personality.

Though of course, there is that one thing one guy that I only met for about 1 hour said about me: "You don't look like you've never had a girlfriend." I guess there's hope for me then.

Chock full of somethin'

I love the way the MSN goes orange as a new message comes in.

I love seeing the words "New Mail" in Gmail and Yahoo! Mail.

I love seeing new words in that tagboard.

I love that special little sound from my Sony Ericsson that heralds the arrival of a new SMS.

Misery loves company? Well, so do I!

Earworm of the Moment

Halcyon & On & On - Orbital

Right now, I have 2 ideas for blog posts. I couldn't decide which to write first, so I did the logical thing and flipped a coin. This post is the winner.

Music, as that bald guy from Stratford-upon-Avon said, is the food of life. Can't argue with that logic. Most of my memories are associated with at least one song. Eg. Grad Night 2000 with Nelly's Dillema. Or 1995 with Green Day's Good Riddance (Time of your Life). I love music, I make it a point to try to download every single song I hear in my computer until it's completely full or the police bang my door down, whichever comes first.

So it drives me crazy when I hear I song I absolutely love, and I don't know the title or the singer's name. It's agony, a song so good I want to listen to it again and again and again, yet I don't what to put in the search box. This happens quite a lot, but usually, I find out what I needed to know soon after. Songs like Sunchyme by Dario G, which I only found out the title only 2 years after I first heard it. (Classic song BTW, grab it!) But THIS song, this song, it's kept eluding me all these years, ever since I heard it at the Mortal Kombat movie credits way back in 1996, then when Channel 5 used it in a Survivor trailer a few years later. It drove me crazy that a song this good isn't in my hard drive. I don't know how to search for it in Google. Lyrics are a no go, since the lyrics basically go like this: "Pee ya, pee ya, on on on on & on & on". Well, ok, that's my interpretation of it.

I heard the song again at the end of the movie, Mean Girls, right at the beginning of the end credits. Then it hit me like that bus hit Regina. I thought the song was so good, surely, SURELY, someone would ask about it in iMDB. And sure enough, there it was. And yeah, I know, I could've done the same thing from the Mortal Kombat page. But I didn't.

10 years, and only NOW I get the song title. Unbelievable. At any rate, I am ecstatic to have FINALLY found it. 10 minutes of ambient trance bliss. It is now most definitely my favourite song from clubland.

Computer OK

Hello, Compy. Lookin' good, lookin' good. Heard your insides got a little dusty which led to your insides overheating and leaking. Must've had hurt, huh? Well, I'm glad those nice people at CyberActive in West Mall took good care of you and fixed you right up.

Hello, iTunes. I took your 1863 songs for granted. Not anymore!

Hello, Bearshare. Sure, you may be chock full of those evil spyware, but you're the reason I have those 1863 songs.

Hello, Firefox. I missed your bells and whistles. Never leave me again!

Hello, MSN. Though technically, you're now WLM, arent' you? Through you, I get to chat with the people I love on the Web. For free!

Hello, Internet. Dear, sweet Internet. Crack has nothing on you, darling.

Hello, dear Readers. Now I won't have to use the computers at Ngee Ann Poly or Cathay Cineleisure to blog again. So convinient!

And lastly, Hello, new ceiling fan in my living room that I just found out about 5 minutes ago. You're a welcome addition to an occasionally stuffy living room. You look lovely. And expensive. Probably more expensive than the amount that I paid to fix Compy up myself ($20) because my Dad thinks fixing it is too expensive. Gee, my Dad sure has a lot of money, doesn't he? :)

Meegorengfreak just doesn't sound right...

Mee Goreng as the National Dish of Singapore



I love Mee Soto, yes I do, chilli, chicken, soup, noodles, everything but the taugeh(sp?). But really, there is nothing, nothing quite like a hot plate of Mee Goreng to end the day with.

Now personally, I prefer the Thai or Seafood Mee Goreng, but the Indian Mee Goreng has a distinct personality of its own. Sometimes, it's just bland, but when it's done right (ie. the Mee Goreng under the car park next to my home), it's simply divine.

Anyway, the blogger I linked up there has a good point: "Was having Mee Goreng for lunch yesterday when it occurred to me that Mee Goreng is the one dish that uniquely defines the melting pot of cultures that is Singapore. It's neither Chilli Crabs nor is it Chicken Rice. Think about it. It is cooked by an Indian Muslim in Ghee, using a Chinese wok, with Chinese cabbage, Hokkien noodles, Malay chilli padi, Indian mutton (marinated with the Sup Kambing) and American Ketchup. I don't think there is another dish that represents such an unique mix of different cultures in such a delicious and comforting manner. Like Singapore no?"

Exactly what I think.

Oh, and don't forget the teh tarik or Milo Dinosaur.

2005: Thank God it's not another 1995!

Time for my memories of 2005. Better late than never, hmmmm?

Ok, memories, memories.....

Uh....

Mmmmm...

You know what? 2005? It's definitely not a repeat of 1995 (which I constantly feared it would be and am grateful that it isn't), but it's not good. In fact, it's downright forgettable. ThereIsNoMatrix from the MatrixMania forums said it best: "2005 was like the quiet kid that sits in front of you in class. He's not doing anything to piss you off, but there's nothing about him that attracts you to talk to him either. 2005 was just meh."

In short, 2005 was notable solely for 2 things: A very, very bad January with a life-changing (and I'm not exaggerating) event at school (Ask me about it in person and I MAY tell you what that is exactly). And a party hearty December to remember.

Rocky start, incredible end, with a bland 10 months in between. That's 2005 for me.

There's an interesting aspect of my life: even-numbered years are always good years for me, odd-numbered years very bad. Dunno why. For example:

1998: Best Class Ever. Pass PSLE
1999: Not the best beginning in YISS
2000: Year I decided to kick the anti-social habit. Still kicking btw.
2001: My 2nd worst year academically
2002: Great class, my English writing was at its peak. Oh, and 6 O Levels. :D

And so on. There's 1995 of course, but I've talked enough of that year.

Ok, so here's my 3 New Year's Resolutions. Like rules and promises, they're just begging to be broken, but I'll try to keep at least 2 of 'em intact. I've categorised them in 3 categories.

Hard: Lose weight (kilos, inches, and oh God, that chest...)

Near Impossible: Get a girlfriend. (Alright, get up, no need to laugh THAT hard!)

Now I'm Just Dreaming: Win Singapore Idol. (Seriously, you're going to get a heart attack laughing that hard. Stop it!)

So, 2006. My 20th year of existence. And pretty soon, National Service. Yep, the excitement juuust keeps building.

Happy New 2006 everyone!

Useless rubbish...

Ever felt like blogging something without actually having anything good/useful/funny/anything resembling normalcy to blog about?

Yeah....

Gah, I wish my brain would hurry up and get creative! No point doing CD reviews if they were boring, right?

I'll tell you one thing, THIS post will definitely not get Tomorrowed. Pity, the last time it happened, this blog got a nice healthy spike in readers for a few hours. Good times, good times....

Cough, cough, wheeze, wheeze, oh what a pain it is....

Why does Santa have three farms? Because he likes to hoe hoe hoe.

Strange fever this. It's mostly gone during the day, but I go to sleep, and it returns right after I wake up.

Not to mention the return of the dreaded Coughs. So bad it woke me up twice at 2 and 4 am. And the awful cough mixture, BLEH!

This fever better hurry up and leave, I've got a job to find!

Sad last week, wasn't it? My cousins lost a grandfather, my sister lost a good friend. It's been a very long time since I last experienced both. Not ones I'd like repeats of. My condolences, guys.

Be very afraid...

That, my friends, is my neighbourhood, as seen from Google Earth.

Gives you a warm feeling inside you, doesn't it?

Here's 2 more pictures of our sunny island.


Marina Bay


Orchard Road

Temperature's rising....

I'll have you guys know that the last time I played in the rain was 2 Sunday mornings ago.

So can anybody explain the 39 degree temperature I have ONLY now?!

Thing is, I only got sick after eating some chicken 2 nights ago.

I repeat, chicken.

Argh! And December was going so well...

Just spreading a quick word...

I forgot if I've said this before, but I'll say it anyway:



Sure, it'll make some blogs look wonky. But c'mon! Better security! Slightly faster loading! TABBED BROWSING!

To end baldness caused by hair-pulling from IE problems, click here.

Time's Persons of the Year 2005

Methinks Time ran out of ideas here. I mean, try naming 1 person as 2005's Person of the Year yourself.

Hard, isn't it?

Here's how I see it. 2005 will be forever known as the year of the natural disasters. The tsunami aftermath (not the tsunami itself, that's still 2004), Hurricane Katrina, Indian earthquake. So Time's editors might decide to be cute this year and put Mother Nature as "Person" of the Year. (See 1984: PC for Machine of the Year; 1989: Endangered Earth for Planet of the Year.) But they thankfully steered away from that. However, I'm in favour of putting ALL the relief workers who helped with the disasters as People of the Year, e.g the year when the American GI was Man of the Year. But I suppose that won't sell copies.

So they put Bill Gates, his wife and Bono. Sure, those three are the poster childs when it comes to helping the needy. Just imagine how richer Bill would be if he wasn't so generous. Consider me cynical though, but this is probably just a good way to sell copies. Notice how Bono is at the center. Besides, I have a feeling Time has always wanted to put good ol' Bill as Person of the Year for the longest time. They missed the boat at 1995, when he DID deserve the honour.

Ah well, what do I know about Time's business practices anyway? Just consider this a writing exercise of my awareness of current affairs.

I get by with a little help from my friends....

I don't usually post song lyrics here. That seems kinda like what a tweenage female blogger would do. You know, the ones who tYpE LyKe tHiS LOL and put their pics all over their blogs, their oh-so-blindingly bright coloured blogs?

EDIT (December 20 2005): See what I mean?

But then again, they usually post lyrics by boybands (HACK!) and Avril (HACK!!!!). Nothin' by the Beatles. And this song from Sgt. Pepper's (review coming soon) is now one of my theme songs. I'll explain the song and how it means to me in the album review. For now, I'll let the song explain itself. Relax, read the lyrics, try to find and listen to the song itself, and let the good times roll. Preferably with a good friend of your own.

With A Little Help From My Friends - The Beatles

What would you think if I sang out of tune,
Would you stand up and walk out on me.
Lend me your ears and I’ll sing you a song,
And I’ll try not to sing out of key.
I get by with a little help from my friends,
I get high with a little help from my friends,
Going to try with a little help from my friends.

What do I do when my love is away.
(does it worry you to be alone)
How do I feel by the end of the day
(are you sad because you’re on your own)
No I get by with a little help from my friends,
I get high with a little help from my friends,
Going to try with a little help from my friends.

Do you need anybody,
I need somebody to love.
Could it be anybody
I want somebody to love.

(Would you believe in a love at first sight,)
Yes I’m certain that it happens all the time.
(What do you see when you turn out the light,)
I can’t tell you, but I know it’s mine.
Oh I get by with a little help from my friends,
I get high with a little help from my friends,
Going to try with a little help from my friends.

Do you need anybody,
I just need someone to love,
Could it be anybody,
I want somebody to love.
I get by with a little help from my friends,
Yes I get by with a little help from my friends,
With a little help from my friends.

What am I doing up this early?

Usually, it's 10, 11 am. Oh well, can't complain, I get to eat breakfast earlier.

Now, I'm just opening my eyes up to the fact that I may be interested in too much stuff. Like Metal just like I said in that last post. I'll buy CDs and attend concerts.

Also interested in movies. I'll buy the tickets. How about TV? I'll diligently watch all my favourite shows. Soccer? Of course, I try to watch every match on ESPN. Oh yeah, let's not forget the other genres of music that I like. I do listen to every genre that I can, with of course the preference to Pop (buy CDs), Dance (CDs and clubs) and SOME aspects of Rock (if it's Punk, forget it).

Books? Trying to save up for Dan Brown. Food? Got the belly to prove my love for it. Sci-Fi? I don't even know where to begin. Wrestling? Gimme the remote, it's time for Smackdown! Dancing? Not that I can breakdance, but I sure can move my feet if the music moves me. The Arts? When I can go to a play that suits my fancy, I will. The internet? More than 100 blog posts, and it still ain't enough.

I'm definitely interested in losing the aforementioned belly.

See, I don't know about you guys, but I'm so stretched thin by all these interests I'm giving myself. I don't have the time, and even less money, to indulge them all!

I'm so confused.....

I've got blisters on my fingers!

Writers are right when they say the skill of writing depends on several factors, one of them being that you have to be prolific in this, write every day to hone your skills, the more you put off your writing, the more you won't feel like writing. It's kinda true now, I don't feel like writing this piece, but I don't want this blog to lay stagnant. This is not me apologising if this post isn't up to your God knows how high standards. Or maybe it is. Bah, chances are you won't care anyway so let's move on.

I've got a few notes on that supposedly Devilishly evil music they call Heavy Metal, an area of music so big it's got it's own section in HMV. It's basically for me, just loud drums, grinding guitars and loud unintelligable words. Seriously, I heared the Slipknot live album at HMV and all I could make out was "RAAAARRRAARAHAHRHARMUTHAPUCKARARHRRAHHAHARHA!!!!". So you know what? There may be some life-changing message in those lyrics, but if I can't understand it, I won't care. I'll just enjoy the loud drums and grinding guitars, which I do take a visceral pleasure in. And anyway, that's how I approach most music. The melody first, the lyrics later, if ever. But anyway, I was always a little blase about metal. My Dad's past insistence on putting Deep Purple, Scorpions and some Malay bands on the CD player again and again and again made sure of that. Seriously, if I hear that blasted whistle opening of 'Winds of Change', I'm going to blow some wind myself.

It's only after listening to the so-called first ever Metal song, 'Helter Skelter' by the Beatles, did I really start getting into the metal sound. That song, BTW, also made me a Beatle fan. I mean, seriously, who knew sappy, melodramatic Paul McCartney could rock (and I do mean RAWK!) like that? Anyway, I'm really starting to get into the whole Metal soung thing. Particularly if it's Emo. I don't know why I didn't get into Emo sooner, it sounds perfect for me. Just as long as I stay away from the old stuff my Dad digs, I'm fine with any other Heavy Metal song or band.

Like the Best of Pantera album I just bought. It's loud, it's fun, it's perfect for a personal Primal Scream session. And Dimebag really can play that mother. And no, I wasn't aware of his death anniversary until the day after I bought it. I am however aware that John Lennon's 25th death anniversary is today. Heh. (RIP, Johnny boy)

Anyway, I just think the CD's alright, but I only listened to it once, because I kinda enjoyed the other CD I bought that day, Sgt. Pepper's. I listened to that every day for a week. But that's probably for another post. Just warning you that if you do listen to Sgt. Pepper's, don't do it right after a hard-rocking album like Pantera's. You'll end up feeling a little under-whelmed.

I am well aware that Heavy Metal is just as much a visual affair as it is an aural one. If I'm ever to experience the full Metal experience, (as full as I'm ever going to get in sunny Singapore) I'll have to be in a concert. I'm also well aware of what exactly happens in those concerts. Looking at the Slipknot concert photos, I wonder if I would even survive. Those Hell's Angels stories don't make it better.

The closest to a metal concert I've been to? Once, I was at a mini-concert. There I was in the middle of the crowd. I suppose I should have seen the warning signs, which came in the form of rocker type people surrounding me. Yep, that was one time I did stand out, image wise. Anyway, Cherry Chocolate Candy was leaving the stage, and the Bushmen came on. And before I knew it, I was right in the middle of a freakin' mosh pit! At least I think it was a mosh pit, it was all a blur. But there sure was a whole lotta bumping. I'll never forget that moment, least of all when I tried to grab something, anything and (oh boy) grabbed some woman's breast. That wasn't the memorable part, it's the flirtatious way she looked at me after it happened that creeped me out. One quick and profuse apology (and a wink from her) later, I pried myself out and high-tailed it out of there. This happened near Woodlands MRT. The scary thing is, I know that's NOTHING compared to what I might see and experience in, say, a Metallica concert. My skin is crawling just thinking about it. But hey, I'll do anything once.

One last note. If anyone ever hears me describe any song as 'BRUTAL!', please feel free to shoot me.

Earworm of the Moment

A Day in the Life by the Beatles

One of those avant-garde songs from one of those avant-garde albums, this being Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band. Loved John's depressed part, Paul's happy part, the orchestra, the babbling at the end, the note so high only dogs can hear. Heck, I love the whole album. Not at first, but this is one of those albums where you have to listen more than once.

Curse of the Dad

Ok, I got in trouble with my Dad. Again. So he took away the modem. Again. So now only my sister can use in front of him. Again.

So here I am reduced to typing this post in Ngee Ann. What to do, may as well get used to not being on the internet and blogging and chatting on MSN as often as I like.

Again.

Writer's Block stinks.

True story: When I was a lot younger, I had ambitions to be a writer. Not surprising considering I was probably the biggest bookworm in Bukit Gombak. Ideas keep floating in my head. Most of 'em pretty dumb, e.g. Earth on a collision course with asteroid THRICE it's size. I even envisioned myself as a secret agent, going to each continent to fight crime in all its forms. I planned a grand death scene for myself in Antartica. Heck, I even imagined the covers, with me posing ala James Bond. With horrible teeth and baby fat.

And how about this? A story about people who see an apparition, which looks like a ghostly circle. And the people who see that apparition would die in 7 days. And what did I give it as a title? "The Ring". Years before Sadako haunted movie screens everywhere. I swear on my handphone it's true.

Ah, those were the (very imaginative) days. What happened? Y'know, the reason I usually get such high marks in my essay writings back in secondary school was not just because of my grammar and vocab. In fact, I knew my command of both was excellent so I concentrated on trying to actually entertain the teacher marking the paper, making 'em laugh or cry. Good vocab, good grammar, and damn good story-telling. That's what I counted on to pass my essay writings. Oh, and lots of practise too, which I got in school. Ah, but no more. For three years now, I've let the story-teller in me lay dormant. And the result? You're looking at it. Periods of brightness but overall, a snoozefest. One huge reason for me getting a blog was to just plain and simply write. About anything really. But, well, I was never good at non-fictional stuff, was I? It's always fiction I excelled at.

I'm not saying I'm going to write The Great Singapore Novel and publish it or anything. I'm just going to doodle a bit and see what I can come up with. I might even tackle that very interesting sci-fi story my cousin told me. If she doesn't mind of course, it is her story after all.

To jumpstart my creative juices a bit (and kill the ever-increasing boredom enveloping me), I've given myself a personal challenge. Borrow Homer's The Iliad, William Thackeray's Vanity Fair and James Joyce's Ulysses from the library and finish them all in the three weeks I'm allowed to keep them. That's over 2000 pages.

Can I do it?

Probably not. But I'll have fun trying anyway.

As a final sidenote, I'm getting rid of the old Tagboard. Nothing wrong with it, but I just find myself preferring CBox nowadays. And I might as well start to actually reply to all your tags. It'll be rude not to.

Taken from Tomorrow.sg.....

First, a party hosted by the Young Deluded Fools PAP.



It's on a Friday, so I may not be able to go. But it's still an interesting sounding party isn't it?

And a point I want to make: the party hosted by the PAP at Zouk, with all-white dress code and Dear Leader Lee and all a few months back? Candidate for 'WTF? Moment of the Year'.

And then there's this:

Rock scissors paper stone Concert

According to Alan from that site: ""Joie de Vivre" - 'Joy of Life', is our way of allowing local bands to display their creativity when it comes to music by performing their original compositions. These songs consist of several different kinds of genres ranging from rock to blues. Through this event, we hope to raise the public awareness of local music and the undiscovered talents of budding bands."

Didn't I say I wanted to go to a concert like this? Sweet.

Not all limericks have to be funny or, for that matter, good...

I always avoid any strife
Don't hate, it's much better to like
But when Granny's at home
Yelling hard at the phone
I wonder, what's wrong with this life?

Never blog when you're feeling messed-up.

Wow. That last post was...embarrasing.

Should I delete it?

Naaah. Though maybe I'll just censor the F words.

So, in the world of me now.

Original Sin, well, it's been good to me...financially wise. But honestly? I don't belong there. I never belonged there. I felt like an atheist in a church/mosque/synagouge/whatever everytime I step into the place. Ok, fine, I've had my cock-ups there, but I improved, really. But the point is, I'm miserable there, and I can't work being miserable. Yes, I'm aware that I'm going to be in more miserable jobs than this. But at least now, I don't have a family to feed, so I still have a choice. So two weeks notice, and I'm out.

So what's next? I tried Cathay Cineleisure. In fact, I got interviewed yesterday. Unfortunately, I was late for that interview because the stupid bus broke down. I got there 30 minutes late. And when I finally got interviewed, 'sigh', let's just say I didn't talk well, even by my standards.

So, one "We'll call you later" and a day later, no call. The one job I might have actually enjoyed and I probably didn't get it.

Did I get depressed again? Nope. Just resigned. In some ways, that's a little worse.

Cheer up, mate. Harry Potter this Saturday at GV Marina.

Some points about GV Marina. I went there twice, a few months ago for Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, and 2 years ago with my dad for Austin Powers in Goldmember. And one thing I noticed both times? Ads. Lots and lots....and LOTS of ads before the movie. There wasn't many people for Charlie, but for Goldmember, the theatre was packed, and the people were pissed. The movies only started 15 minutes later.

Oddly enough, that's why I picked GV Marina again. What can I say, I love ads. And it builds up the anticipation.

A lacklustre post to follow a bizarre post. Nice.

This post is pointless!

(Time to be lame.)

What the hell do I write now? I mean, I'm feeling down in the dumps, again, yet at the same time, I feel on top of the world! (In short, Everest in the Marianas Trench)

Can someone just please tell me how to talk properly, it really would be nice. No more uhs, ums, stutters and Bugs Bunny voice. (Meh, the voice is cute sometimes, I must admit.)

Imagine no possesions? Sorry John, can't do that. You wanna be a hermit, fine, be my guest. And say hi to George for me. (Hi, Fiz!)

Toot sweets, chaps! CloretsTM makes you go all minty fresh inside! (No, no, Listerine is the way to go!)

All the imaginary friends in the world can't help cure my acne. (Well, of course they won't. They're not trained dermatologists.)

Did you know that Champagne is used to worship fleas? (I prefer to use a nice Chardonnay.)

I'm a topsy-turvy mad-man, flipping about with a chained keyboard. (Pfft, mad-MAN? Don't flatter yourself!)

Am I making sense? Is Bush a moron? (Un-American! Oh wait...)

Who ordered this lava lamp anyway? (The 70s. They want it back by the way.)

I just got married...to my hand. (Well, at least you don't need to talk to it anymore.)

I may be a creep, I may be a loser, I may even wonder what the hell I'm doing here, but funk, funk, FUNK IT! ;) I'm going to make damn sure that I do belong here! (Somewhere, Thom Yorke is seething.)

So ends this post. Cheerio! (Cheerio then! And don't write crap like this again!)

Get your White Elephants right here!

Whether you know about the Buangkok White Elephant or not...is irrelevant. (Personally, I think it was Over-Reaction 101 on the part of the authorities.)

What matters, is that it inspired a few 16-year-old RGS girls (hate them yet?) to make a t-shirt.

A political comment from a bunch of supposedly apathetic Singaporean teens? Maybe. But who cares? I've been wanting to buy a t-shirt anyway. Why not this? After all, it goes with my eyes. And you can't tell me that elephant doesn't look cute.




Naturally, to avoid a call from those guys in white, they've added a little something in their infosheet.

"We would like to remind the public that even though the White Elephant has become our mascot and symbol for the project, we are in no way attempting to judge or condone the Buangkok MRT incident. Rather, we are using the accidental fame of the elephants to spark interest in our project; they also serve as a reminder that legal boundaries are important and should be adhered to even while expressing one's views and opinions about political issues."

Translation: PLEASE DON'T SUE US, LEH! WE PROMISE TO BE GOOD LOYAL SINGAPOREANS AND NEVER MIGRATE, EVER!

Ring 'em up at proj.white.elephant@gmail.com for purchase details. That's if you decide that the shirt goes with your shoes. More info here.

Note to self: Cancel Psychiatry as career option

I've always wanted to see a psychiatrist. Ever since that one episode of Animaniacs, with the Warner brothers and sister seeing that "Pee-see-ky-atrist". Always wondered what they would make of my own mind. Heaven knows, I often wonder if I'm sane at all at times.

I basically have 2 versions of myself I use in public. The "quiet" guy, who would just sit there, a glazed look on his face, lost in his own world, smiling only feebly at people when he was addressed. I usually use persona that in front of strangers, like new classmates. Sure, some people would find this silent person interesting, and try to get through to them. But the "quiet" guy, ever skeptical about the intentions of these people, would always try to back away from them. He suceeds with some of them, losing possibly good friends in the process. This guy usually pops up whenever I get depressed, which I must add, is getting more frequent.

Then there is the "cartoon" guy. He usually pops up when I'm in a good mood and surrounded by people I know and love. He's talkative, interested in everything around him, a joker with a plethora of lame jokes, a very sociable person (believe it or not) and just flat-out crazy. Some find him weird, some find him charming. This guy, I swear to God, nearly got me a few girlfriends. The reason I still don't have one is because here, the skeptical trait of the "quiet" guy creeps in, and I back out at the last moment. I try to use this persona every day, but the world being what it is, and me being a natural pessimist, I can't help but let the "quiet" guy take over, even for a few minutes.

But whatever persona I use, some traits of mine remain the same. I'm dopey, a blur-toad and a little slow on the uptake. See, I may have just said the same thing three times! It's my need to impress people, my need to repent for the horrible mistakes I made regarding my social life in the past. But I still cannot get myself over the teases, taunts and outright bullying I endured in Primaries 1 to 3. I think from then on, I have always treated new people with a little apprehension. "Are they going to like me? Are they going to make fun of me? Call me names? Oh God, I better not risk it, I have to stay away from them!" All that really came to a head when the teasings reached a vindictive high, my attention span mysteriously dropping which lead to a near-catastrophic fall of grades, and a damn tuition teacher which went too far in disciplining me for the aforementioned attention span drop that led to me having a hatred to anything to do with tuition.

It may be ten years ago, and it may seem nothing to some of you, but honestly, I don't think my confidence and self-esteem ever recovered from that year on. From one of the best students to a mediocre one. Thank God my English actually improved after all that, or I may have ended up somewhere worse that Yusof Ishak Secondary School. (No offense, YISS, I still love you! :D)

After reading that article of parents using hypnotism to improve their child's minds, and more recently, Wigan Athletic using hypnotism to help their players reach an unbelievable 2nd place in the English Premiership, I'm considering begging my parents to send me to Woodbridge or wherever pronto. Does it really work? Does it have scientific merit? Hell if I know. But after the last few months of harboring very bad thoughts (of the bloody variety), I'm willing to give it a shot.

Anything's better than another day with the knowledge that the Internet may be my only hope of getting more friends.

Smack those strings!

Oasis' Wonderwall and George Harrison's My Sweet Lord are 2 songs that are part of the reason why I bought that guitar for my birthday. You know, the one collecting dust bunnies at the foot of my bed.

Ok, I am now aiming to play those 2 songs well by this time, in 2 years.

I know, I know. But come on, my NS call-up letter could be in the post box any month now. I'll be too busy training, doing drills and being some guy's bitch to practice.

We need a new camera...

I think I know why I never look good in photos. It's the damn camera itself! It's true what they say, the camera adds 20% to your size. It probably explains why Jamie looks so unbelievably skinny in a not-sexy-at-all way in person, not at all like in FHM.

Damn, my cheeks are chubby.....

Aaaand cue Saloma....

You know, I think this goes without saying, but well, I have to say it anyway.

To all my Muslim friends and relatives and anybody else who's a Muslim reading this (unless you're planning to bomb the US Embassy in which case bugger off), Selamat Hari Raya Aidilfitri, Maaf Zahir dan Batin. To all the rest of you, go ahead. Lean back. Relax. Take off your shoes. Try to ignore the fact that your work/end-term project needs to be done yesterday.

I did plan to put up an MP3 of me singing Selamat Hari Raya up here, but then I figured, why ruin this happy day?

Now go forth and eat Ketupat!

Evil 18

(Before I start, I just to say something in response to something I just found ouut. If you want to know what it is, MSN me, cuz I ain't sayin' it here. And that something is this:
OH MY MUTHAFREAKIN' !#%$@*&!^$!$ GOD!!!

And now, today's blog entry.)





Dear sweet Sister, even though you're 18 today, it doesn't mean you now have the right to go out at night, shop till Dad's bankrupt and kiss all the cute guys out there. It just means you can watch naked boobs in the cinema.

Happy 18th Birthday, Ili Izyani. Just a few more years until you work full-time for your money to buy your clothes and cosmetics. And by work, I don't mean begging and pleading and flattering me, Mum and Dad.

And remember, I love you. MUACKS!!!

Fear the numbers!

Meet Hafiz. Once, not so long ago, he was a great kid, vibrant, full of life. He was the life of the party, he was the best friend anybody could have, and the top student in his class. He was also a fillial son to his parents. In short, he was a cool kid. His life so full of promise.

Then he started playing Sudoku.

At first, it was harmless fun. Once a day, he spends a few hours solving the daily puzzle in the newspaper. But it wasn't enough. He wanted more. So he bought a Sudoku puzzle book. But that wasn't enough either. So he bought more and more and more. He became addicted. Pretty soon, he ran out of money, but his need for Sudoku was far from abated. He started to borrow money from anyone he could, which led to rising debts. His parents got worried. They scolded him, whacked him with the cane, took away his allowance and even grounded him. His friends started avoiding him. They say he's a changed person. Whatever happened to the fun-loving Hafiz that they knew and loved? And his grades, where once he could get full marks in his Math tests, now they began dropping faster than a stone. But Hafiz didn't care. All that mattered to him was solving Sudoku puzzles. Just getting one complete row would send him into ecstacy. Soon, he began to steal and extort money from his now former friends. That was the last straw. His parents gave him an ultimatum. Quit Sudoku or they will call the police. Hafiz took a third choice. He ran away from home.

He had reached the point of no return.

Now, dressed only in tattered clothing, he digs around in trash bins around Singapore, hoping to find something, ANYTHING, related to Sudoku. Old newspapers, thrown out books. His life, which used to promise so much, is now destroyed.

Kids, don't be a Hafiz. Say NO to Sudoku.

It's there, you just have to look a bit.....

Now here's something I've been looking for for quite a while.

Probably not all the local bands out there. But this is still one of the best (and only?) lists of Singaporean bands.

You don't need an iPod! (Would be nice though...)

What with my sister not letting me use the internet at night, and my dad trying desperately to hide the modem everywhere, and my new job eating my time, and my inherent laziness, it's hard to update this darn blog. But will I quit? Heck no! I won't stop until I reach Xiaxue's level of popularity. Which probably might be soon, on account of the rumours I hear that pigs are growing little stubs on their sides that look suspiciously like wings.

Anyway, on to today's topic. PODCASTING! The new radio, so the hip people say. And here are some podcasts I recommend right now. Go to their websites or search for them in iTunes (Just click on Podcasts and then Podcast Directory. Then enter your podcast of choice in the search bar.)


The Richard Vobes Show: The very first podcast I ever subscribed to. A paid service now, but you can sample it for free. Typical British humour. And I like British humour. And (at the risk of sounding like a pervert) Georgie.

MuggleNet: A Harry Potter podcast. All the latest news on everybody's favourite teen wizard. I just wonder how they dig this stuff up about me?

LOST: The Transmission: A Podcast on my current favourite show. Geek haters and desperate housewives need not apply.

Browncast: Singapore's best blogger. Of course he has a podcast. He wouldn't be Singapore's best blogger then, hmmmm?

The Don and Drew Show: 987fm nearly lost this listener when they moved Jamie to the afternoon. But I stayed for 2 reasons: !) Daniel Ong back where he belongs on Jive Drive. 2) This show. And 3) Power 98 sounds too Malaysian, if that makes sense. I'll explain later. Anyway, Don and Drew is without a doubt the best show 987fm has ever had since Glenn Ong's Ego Trip. And no dodgy pschizophrenic voices too.

Now, a little explaing. A podcast is a couple of MP3s that need to be subscription-based. Meaning you have to subscribe to that particular show using a program like iPodder or iTunes. It is NOT a simple MP3 that just stick in your blog. (Like so. BTW, she sounds just like any other young Chinese Singaporean girl. Only thing is you insult her, she tears you a new a$$hole. Using perfect English.) That is called, simply, audioblogging. I might do that someday, once I get a voice recorder or a mike for this computer.

Yah, I know, my voice is weird, and people will heckle me to no end if they hear it. Well, if they can't appreciate how special my voice, tough on them.

Now if you'll excuse me, Final Fantasy 1 awaits me.

A face only a mother could love...

Now this is interesting, isn't it?

Try it yourself at Face Analyzer. Post your results in your blog. I would LOVE to know what you got. Especially the "Gay Factor" area.

"Life is a banquet, and most poor suckers are starving to death!"

Let's see, do I have a witty opener? Do I? Hmmmm, guess not. Y'all just have to make do with a lame opener.

Now then, I would like to announce that I've gotten a job. A REAL job this time, not the usual job I say I have.

Generic Person: "You working currently?"
Me: "Oh yeah, I'm a professional loafer, while having a side job as an amateur gamer"

Original Sin is the name of the "lucky" restaurant which hired me. Now, usually, I'd take some time to talk about the less...pleasing aspects of the restaurant, but really, all those reports about people being fired because their blogs weren't hyping their companies as the Biggest Thing Coming to your HomeTM. And who knows how many spies this restaurant has hired? (One of the owners is Italian, and he strongly reminds me of Don Corleone.) So I'll just say that vegetarian foods (which they serve) aren't my cup of tea and leave it at that. Oh, and the music they keep playing (and replaying. And replaying. Ad Infinitum) can make Gandhi unleash his inner Shiva.

And at the moment, it's Fasting Month again! Until the 3rd of November, no eating, drinking, smoking, gossiping, cursing, playing the fool, even digging the nose, basically being the Principal's Dream Pupil. From dawn to dusk. For a full month. For all my Muslim friends. good luck to you all. For all my non-Muslim friends, stop making fun of us and try it. If you can work a busy 4-hour Lunch shift in a restaurant without once eating a grain of bread or a drop of water, then you can come and talk.

So basically, the best thing we realy can do during this holiest of holy months is this:



Now if you'll excuse me, Desperate Housewives has finished downloading. (I heart Bree. I know, I 'm surprised myself.)