Saturday, December 22, 2007


Everyone knows that the best way of dealing with a mish mash of relatively unrelated issues is to checklist them and address it in point form. If you didn't, shame on you. It's certainly the best way if one is feeling/is lazy and not in the mood to write in coherent prose. As yours truly currently is.

Happy 6th Anniversary.

  1. Even though, it's three days past now, the actual day went by with nary a whimper due to the fact we both had work and I failed to call him before midnight on the actual day.
  2. Sean's still a real chum, thanks for having endured (and still enduring) my shit these past six years. I honestly doubt if it were anyone else, I'd still be attached. Play hard, work hard, love hard.
  3. In my defense to the seemingly callous behaviour in point 1, I did sms him in the morning on the way to work, though I realise it does not detract from the fact that I didn't call. Yes yes, I suck.


  1. Are bloody precious now.
  2. Ironically, we seem to spend the major part of it engaging in our favourite S activities: sex and sleep. But I have no qualms sleeping for three hours plus after sex. Come on afternoon naps are a luxury now.
  3. Also mean there's just one more day before Monday.


  1. Alright I still have a sweet tooth. I've had it ever since young when having dinner/lunch was often viewed as an annoying necessity but had no problems polishing off an entire box of after eight mints with great gusto. If I were a girl, I'd probably starve myself and stuff my self with salads just to spend those dreaded calories on desserts or anything sweet. Like the Sister does. But I'm not, so I still enjoy my meals with great gusto AND my desserts/sweets.
  2. D is for Desserts. D is also for Donuts. Which may or may not be a subset of desserts. You can have a donut anytime of the day. But then again I've never been particularly constrained by the societal restrictions of having desserts after a meal or for tea. I could have them for breakfast if I felt like it. Which I do. Well, sometimes.
  3. So anyway, I'd always seen/ heard about the horrendous queues which form for donuts, particularly those made by Donut Factory at Raffles City Shopping Center and decided to get some myself after a double scoop of New Zealand's Natural Ice Cream's very yummy Honey Hokey Pokey ice cream, just to see if it was really like all it was hyped up to be.
  4. I'd never really been one for fancy donuts when I was a kid. The plain old sugared donut was more than enough to keep me satisfied and for some strange peculiar reason I never ever ate one of those chocolate rice sprinkled donuts. For one, the chocolate looked cheap (more butter than actual chocolate) and second, I just like the crunch of the sugar crystals when biting into a good old fashioned donut.

  5. I bought a box of 12 donuts on impulse. Which like Sean commented loudly, is probably quite crazy considering there' s just my Dad and I left at home, the Sister and Mother having a whale of a time somewhere in Vietnam. And unlike me, my Dad doesn't have a sweet tooth. "At the rate you're eating, you're going to turn into a lard ball soon." The amicable Other Half pointed out. Which has some merit to it I guess, thin genes and a healthy metabolic rate won't last forever. But when the sweet tooth acts up, it must be satisfied. At all costs.

Reached home. Dad had 1. I polished off 4. I have to admit these donuts are addictive.

Monday, December 17, 2007


I haven't been blogging lately I know, just a little something called work and getting intimately acquainted with the growing stacks of files that would probably pose a health hazard if I attempt to stack them all together. It's sad when you come back the following morning and remember exactly which tea-smudged tab in a particular file you left off at the previous night. It's sadder when staying till eight in the office feels normal.

It's been a week and returning to an activity that once seemed to be an aspect of daily life, seems strange and stilted. If only because every time I sit down now, all that comes to mind is how to draft a particular affidavit or summons. The task of attempting to give expression to the vacuous thoughts that flit about the recesses of the mind, strained and artificial. Much like flogging the proverbial dead horse if you will. As if by flogging it harder, through focusing ones concentration on the matter at hand some miraculous creative spark would restore the carcass to its former glory.

There is much to be said of the expression that disuse prevents reuse. Some cobwebs can be cleared away, others leave their insidious mark, little infractions that draw ones focus and attention from an area of interest and corrode the attention it once commanded. So whether this spirited return is for good remains to be seen for it is subject to whimsical fancies as fickle as a summer storm.

Who? What? Why? Where? Perennial questions that mark long lazy afternoons over coffee or a prelude to a stormy showdown. Or perhaps just tactful manipulation, as we divert attention away from greyer areas and stir up eddies of intrigue to conceal what it is we so desperately want to hide. And you wonder how people wolf it down, behind those plastic smiles as they pass by, mobile mannequins, their minds a veritable hornet's nest of activity as they process and pick apart the information received from the daily discourse.

But can you stand apart, to look down with disdain at the crowd from your exalted pedestal and say with utmost confidence and not a shred of reservation that you've never partaken in such activities? If so you must either be totally deranged with delusions of self-grandeur or be a saint in which this earthly plane is the wrong one for you. But for the rest of us mere mortals, this is a game that plays us as much as we play it. For by purporting to disseminate information to our advantage, we need to continue its propagation and the interaction with our counterparts' efforts is something we are often unable to predict, much less control.

But still we carry on this charade, this endless riposte, this need for self gratification, uncaring of the consequences that may follow. For as it has been said, deception is the sweetest mockery.

Tuesday, December 11, 2007

The Price of.

Because it's 11.35 PM, I've just returned from a wedding dinner, the Sis is hogging the toilet and I have 20 more mins before I call it a night, including the time to be spent showering; everything shall be short snappy and concise. Like the standard research opinion on implied statutory easements to pass my shit over your land or any other issue for which research is required. Don't like it? Write your fucking blog.

Lunch with the Year 1- 3 L. Associates today.

Assoc 1 (Upon learning that next year's batch would be paid the prevailing market rate of $2000 for pupillage and $500 for PLC (if there's still going to be a plc for next year)):
What??! That's so unfair. We had to survive without money for ours.

Me: Yep, well we are the last batch who don't get paid for PLC and most firms already pay that amount. They should pay, we're quite broke.

Assoc 2: Well but it does make sense that they don't pay during PLC, you don't work, you don't get paid. Simple.

Assoc 1: Which is why it makes it so unfair that the next batch will be paid.

Assoc 3: They haven't been paying PLC allowances all this while and Pupillage allowance has always been [sum lower than 2k]. Where do you think they'll get the money from? Ah I think we can deduct this sum from this year's bonuses. *Makes shaving action with finger*

Assoc 2: No, you know what's really unfair? It's if the current pay structure remains the same and when you (points at Assoc 1) go to court for some summons or PTC and come up against some newly called rookie from BXB firm who knows almost nothing but who's being paid more than you. That's unfair.

Well but like I told the Blog Master after undergoing his enlightening 'career analysis' test, Big Bucks isn't the top priority, the working environment and people are to me, the most important consideration in a job. And in this regard, I think the Firm does well. Heck, I even have a nice spacious as of yet undecorated room (without a view but I'm not picky) that I share with A.

The work's still heavy, not unbearably so but certainly enough to keep one gainfully occupied for the official working hours if not for more. But it's really Own time own target for now, though I foresee spending more time in the office in the near future. Smell that bracing office air. Ahhrgh. Time to get a decent fan for proper ventilation past 8pm.

Sunday, December 9, 2007


Six persons. Four guys, two girls. Three couples. One straight, one bi, one gay. We ordered practically everything on the menu and went for seconds. I think the waiters were a little astounded. The banter was light and uncontrived though we were often assailed by Grace's perculiarly annoying habit of whipping out her camera and snapping mugshots of the food and people in various stages of repasting. Though her annecdote about how her boyfriend, Richmond, 'merlioned' the hor fun they were having for lunch all over her face and blouse while she was going on about some office event was highly amusing, in a gross kind of way.

I understand how it could have happened though. I spewed water all over aileen's windscreen when she was recounting how her classmates brought Yaoi to school to share with friends at the tender age of 13-14. Then it was off to Mox where Grace displayed more of her photography skills and trundled the unfortunate few all over the place just to get a perfect shot. We probably terrorised the patient staff there quite a bit with our requests for more chips.

Off to work again tomorrow. It's a mixed feeling but it'll be nice to get paid for a change and know that one can get off work relatively care-free without the need to worry about tiresome tutorials or having to prepare for some other senseless crap.

Thursday, December 6, 2007

Ho Hum

I'm suffering from LPS which stands for Last Paper Syndrome, not Lowly Piece of Shit though there are days when one feels like the latter. In a little over 13 hours, the last exam of my life will be over. No euphoric highs, no jubilant shouts of glee, certainly no nostalgic reminiscing. It seems strange how humans always want to celebrate the passing milestones in their life, to go out with the euphemistic bang.

With great fanfare it started, this prodigious embarkation on a 20 year long journey of formal education and with a whimper it dies. Like a pauper in an unmarked grave uncared and forgotten, this signpost in the journey of life will be passed by with nary a nod of recognition. It seems ironic yet it remains a fitting end. One day I'll look back with some nostalgia as we are wont to do, but not now.

As far as preparations for the papers are concerned or rather the lack thereof, LPS didn't change things much, if only serving to reinforce the pervasive miasma of slackness that was never really dispelled for this exam. Went out with Annie for coffee and a little impromptu shopping, something we haven't done for ages, walking the entire length of Orchard Road from Plaza Sing to Forum, buying CDs from HMV and dinner at the same old Turkish place, Anatolya, where we laughed and gossiped so many years ago. All in all, a day of doing things we'd done so often, so long ago and it was pleasant.

I've become a lot more impatient lately, having stumbled on the online manga site, One Manga, with its free voluminous scans of scanlators' works of the different popular manga series, I gave in to curiosity and embarked on a marathon session of Naruto. Which just keeps getting better and better. Then having finished the series to its current chapter, boredom rapidly set in because we all know studying/reading notes is like wading through pee after having tasted the ambrosia; so I devoured more series, Bleach, Claymore, Tsubasa Reservoir Chronicles, D Gray Man and the highly amusing Full Metal Alchemist.

666 Satan (which no, isn't an occult offering but the name of a cute manga by Kishimoto Seishi, the younger twin brother of Kishimoto Masashi, author of the immensely popular Naruto.) is currently the latest target. It's quite amusing really, how their drawing styles are really similar and there are common elements in the plot. Still it remains an entertaining read, though of course nothing seems able to beat Naruto in terms of sheer suspense.

Jio in 666 Satan. Looks familiar? :)

So as you can see, studying for this exam has been rather non-existent, even if one does attach very generous definitions to the term 'studying'. 'Relaxed, intermittent reading' would be a more apt description to sum up the state of preparations and amount of effort input into this last enterprise. Listening to that glorious piece by Clarke, The Prince of Denmark's March from the newly bought Unforgettable Wedding Classics cd, it just makes one feel like marching down the aisle I swear.

Ah well, at least I do get to meet Sean at long last on Sat. Oh and does anyone want to buy a (normal) wii, I found a shop selling modded ones that play english as well as Jap (Read Naruto Shippuden games on Wii) games for a cool $560. Crap. Now excuse me while I attempt to speed read the remaining 6 chapters of this dreary subject.

Tuesday, December 4, 2007


The difference was striking. One was tall and vibrant,its dome shaped crown blessed with lush green leaves in abundance. The other standing in stark contrast beside it was its exact twin in height and shape but where the other was covered in rich greenery and foliage, this one was threadbare; the few remaining leaves on its branches brown and crisp, a cruel parody of nature.

Where the first was obviously in its prime, the thick emerald foliage and numerous pearly white flowers releasing their thick cloying perfume testament to its vibrancy; the other was bare, its diaphanous web of branches reaching out to the heavens as if in desperate supplication for mercy, the muddy dried leaves pointing earthwards, drooping but not dropping.

Life standing beside death, the manifestation so obvious, it nearly seems surreal. But death and life is a never ending cycle. Unbroken for all time regardless what religions might have one believe. A fact as ancient as the universe.

The wind blows strongly now, the swaying rustling leaves, the waving branches, a hypnotic mesmerising dance and the chorus, a strange yet soothing melody. The dead tree remains as impassive as ever, its immobile silhouette strangely disconcerting against the backdrop of sashaying trees. The leaves barely move, so still they are, it is as if they had been glued there. A statue amongst birds.

To that question, so long ago. You broke your Promise, I broke my Resolve. The branches are akin to our resolve, the leaves our inherent weaknesses but what makes us human, alive. Winds of opportunity and change come, rustle the leaves and our branches of resolve bend and wave to the temptation.

What should I be to you? Human, vibrant and alive, the flawed yet pleasingly natural individual or the dead dry thing, impassive, immobile and indifferent? I stare out.

Oblivious to its surroundings, the skeletal tree stands out still as it always will, bare, dry, dead.

Sunday, December 2, 2007

A Day in the Diary of Juliet Ang.

Juliet Ang. 35. Modern, Single, Forever-Young.

Dear Diary,

I should stop starting with ‘dear diary’ if only because it makes me sound like a flighty 14 year old schoolgirl confiding in her secret best friend all the dark, deep secrets and private thoughts that she can’t bear to reveal, not even to her best friend in life. Things that carry little import but have the potential to greatly mortify, like how you think your best friend’s boyfriend is so hot and how Tracia thinks she’s God’s gift to men but has a face like an over-ripe squash. But old habits die hard and at 35, remaining 14 in some aspects isn’t too bad after all. I feel the wrinkles coming. Shudder.

After the weekly Yoga session at X gym (which was incredibly invigorating as usual), I met Megan and Catherine for lunch at Y. The set lunches as usual were simply divine. It’s been almost 2 months since we last met up (jetting about for work has been exhausting) but I daresay they’ve changed slightly. Meg freshly botoxed, the crow feet conspicuously absent and her glacial face looking more plastic than ever. SKII she declared authoritatively when Cat and I complimented her on her youthful complexion. To which we exchanged a knowing glance, silly woman went overboard as usual, as Meg smiled, a faint upturn of the lips on an otherwise expressionless face. She’d make a fantastic mannequin.

Cat, dear old Cat, still jolly and a little boisterous but certainly looking a little more rotund. A little binge eating after the end of that disastrous relationship with Robert no doubt. She doesn’t like to talk about it but the occasional tremor in her voice when she involuntarily recalls some memory with him, her sentence dying off in mid air are signs enough. Not that it can be helped, I probably gained 3 kg after Jack left. Meeting the girls is always fun though it can take on a competitive air, each proffering some accomplishment as testament to the successful modern woman image.

Three single successful women, not always successful with men, who’ve been friends since 14, often feel the need for a yardstick to measure up with. If only to ascertain that we’ve not fallen behind. We’re friends and yet we compete, fall behind and we’ll console the poor woman, extend genuine offers of help yet be secretly smug that we, for now, are ahead in this never-ending race. So it was with great aplomb that Meg told us she had acquired, not one, not two but THREE Manolo Blahnik shoes which cost no less than $1200 apiece. His shoes are gorgeous, sleek works of art with killer heels that defy gravity, for which the wearer pays a painful price.

And while we congratulated her on her pricey acquisitions, we did warn her about the price she’d need to pay, after all at 35, we’re hardly the stiletto heeled Xenas of the boardroom anymore. Shoes with heels shorter than my paring knife are now the preferred battle gear for office, though as Meg noted, a night out with Manolo Blahnik just feels empowering and ritzy. “You become a different woman in those heels.” Something Cat and I can attest to.

Cat revealed that she had been promoted again, seems like her ability to deliver prompt results and whip recalcitrant subordinates into shape paid off again. “It just means I’ve sold more of my life to the job.” She moaned. But we could tell that she was secretly pleased. Plus it would help her in getting over that useless two-timing sod. Not to be outdone, I let on that I’d been seeing someone for almost 6 weeks now and had just gotten together.

Upon which they flooded me with questions. Who was he? How old was he? How did we meet? What’s he working as? How far have we gone? Prudish as it may sound, I was a little pleased with the attention. Alright, more than a little. After all, when you’re a successful, single woman at 35 and money is no longer an issue, companionship and the thought of having another person waiting for you at the end of the day suddenly seem a lot more important than they did 10 years back, when Power to Me and career progression were the driving forces.

So I answered, enough to titillate but not too much to be shamelessly flaunting, the kind that leaves others resentful and bitter. I’d met Keith at a housewarming party. He’s 32, impishly cute yet mature. Working as an assistant Financial controller in Z. Dated for a month and just got together recently. He’s incredibly romantic. How far, how far? They prodded.

The usual. We’ve already slept together once. Squeals. How was he? Oh not incredibly skilled but a warm and sensitive lover. And attentive, yes, incredibly attentive. Then at this point I had to demur and politely evade further probing from a very enthusiastic Meg as I noticed Cat was starting to look a little morose, eyes hazing over, the first telltale warning signs of doom and gloom.

We finished our tiramisu mostly in thoughtful silence. The rest of the afternoon was spent indulging in our favourite activity, shopping, though I had to plead fatigue after a light dinner of salad and soup at Q. Keith wants to bring me out for drinks at City Space tonight and I need to change out and dump the bags even if he is picking me up. Though I didn’t tell them that obviously, no point making Cat more miserable.

Alright, time for a quick nap before I freshen up and decide what to wear. That Givenchy gown or the JPG LBD. Decisions decisions. Oh and I’m supposed to arrange tea with Aaron, haven’t seen that man for almost a year. Probably been getting a lot of bum fun in his own words. But he’s such a dear and so hilariously risqué. Better catch that nap now.


Saturday, December 1, 2007


The soft patter of scurrying rodents busy at their tasks echo throughout the hallway, the persistent sound of water dripping from some unseen crevice, the only disturbances in this great darkened hallway. The soaring archs so far up, they are consumed by the inky darkness which seems an inherent part of the ceiling. Dark and forbidding, the heavens themselves devoid of even the frail light issuing forth like tentative snakes from the flickering torches below.

And yet I hear them now, whispers in the wind. The sighs, songs and cries of the long departed, the cobbled stones on which I stand, surrendering these ancient memories, even as they disperse and disappear into the gloom. Glad to be free from their prison of stone, to have found one to share a brief moment of companionship with as they travel onwards, forlorn and forgotten.

Wednesday, November 28, 2007


Of all the things the Sister had to ask when she got home, she had to go ,"So how was your paper today?" And all I could manage was a half strangled grunt before finally forcing out a lame singularly unconvincing 'Ok la...should be able to pass.' When what I was actually thinking was more along the lines of this:

"So how was Crim Pro?"

I knew I was screwed when I sat down and started reading the questions, that faintly familiar feeling of dread and horror slowly creeping down the spine one I'd not felt since sitting for those abysmal Chemistry papers in JC1. For starters, I didn't understand half of what they were asking for, so the usual modus operandi of flipping didn't work too well since well I didn't even know what they wanted, let alone where to look to find a plausible answer.

But still I flipped, desperately, if only to find something which sounded remotely correct for the particular question before me. Some just left me totally stumped like that horrific part in question 1 about the multiple charges and what not. I had never been more tempted in my life to draw a smiley face and write something idiotic like "Bruce should adopt a more positive attitude!" Though I must say my hastily scribbled 'Duplicity of Charges. Appeal against it.' wasn't much better either.

The rest of the paper wasn't much better either, blowing two hours and ten minutes on question 1 left me with 50 minutes for the other two shorter questions which didn't fare too well either. How do you obtain the Notes of Evidence? 'Apply to the Registrar for it.' Right. Perhaps the only comfort to be gleaned from such a depressing paper is the general consensus that the Paper's an utter nightmare. Like I overheard one guy moaning to another, "I had absolutely no idea what to write! I just wrote that the cases are reconcilable and the law student who gave that opinion should be made to retake his legal education." Lol.

Well now I understand why the tutor commented in class, "Criminal Procedure is the most widely flunk paper, they even had to give everyone 20 marks across the board for one year. Which is why I don't have a very good opinion of the standard of the Criminal Bar." Touche.

Tuesday, November 27, 2007

Bedtime Story

Today I will tell you chums a bedtime story to alleviate a little of that boredom that comes hard on the heels of reading Criminal Procedure. A story plagiarised wholesale from one of the mother's comprehension passages for 10 year old tykes, tweaked a little for unwholesome entertainment. And you wonder what sort of stuff kids are thought these days.

The fat Bitch and the Dumb stud.

A very beautiful girl lived in a small country town. She had red lips, golden hair and blue eyes, a slim figure and a soft, gentle voice. (Not Pamela Anderson kind of Blond, more like Cinderella or what not.) A young man lived in the same street. He loved her very much and he wanted to marry her. He went to the girl and asked her to be his wife.

"Pooh!" she said unkindly, "You are not good enough for me. I am too beautiful for a man like you. But I will marry you if you give me a diamond ring.' The young man went away and worked hard for many years. At last he saved enough money to buy the girl a diamond ring."Here is your ring," he said. "Now will you marry me?'' "Yes," the Girl said, "But first, you must get a fine house for me to live in. I am too beautiful to live in a small house.'' The young (dumb) man went away and worked harder than before. At last, he had enough money to buy a fine house.

"I have gotten a fine house for you to live in," he said to the girl. "Now will you marry me?'' "Yes," said the girl, "but first you must buy me beautiful clothes to wear. I am too beautiful to wear ordinary, rough clothes (bitch bitch bitch)." The young man went away and worked harder than ever. He bought beautiful branded clothes for the girl and went to see her again. "Here's the LV you asked for " he said. "Now will you marry me?"

"No" the girl bitch said. "A very wealthy merchant has come to live in the town. He has much more money than you will ever have. People say he is looking for a wife. When he sees me, I know he will want to marry me. I am the most beautiful girl bitch in the town." The Young (and dumb) man was very sad (Duh) when he heard this. He was also very angry (about time) with the girl, but he said, "Very well. I love you and want you to be happy, so I will help you marry this man (I love you, so you can sleep with my best fugly STD-ridden mate)." Then he went away.

A few days later he came to the girl's house again. "I have talked to this merchant," he said. "You are right. He is very wealthy. Many people say he is the richest man in the country. But he is a strange man. He does not like slim girls with golden hair. He likes fat girls with very short black hair. He is also a little deaf. Your voice is too soft. If you want to marry him, you must learn to speak louder.''
"Then it will be easy for me to marry him," the girl bimbotic bitch said. "I shall cut my hair and make it black. I shall eat and eat until I am very fat. And I shall practice speaking in a loud voice." ''Yes"said the young (dumb) man. "That is what you must do.' And he went away.

In a small country town there lives a very fat girl with short black hair and a very loud voice. Nobody wants to marry her.

And the moral of the the story?

  1. Beautiful Blonds that look like Cinderellas are really bimbotic, bitchy, Bling bling grabbers.
  2. Young Men who chase after the above mentioned category of girls are better off blowing their hard earned money on Postal Brides. Or on more appreciative male partners.
  3. Fat girls with short black hair and a loud voice are destined to be confined to the rubbish bin of spinsterdom. Unless she's lesbian.

Sunday, November 25, 2007

Studied Indifference.

In 14 days or approximately 848 hours later, my life as a relaxed, free-wheeling student will come to an end. Forever. Goodbye to getting up at noon and languidly lazing away the afternoons. Hello to 40 years of getting up at the crack of dawn and heading home after dark. Like E. said, it really does put things into perspective, before we groaned so loudly that the auntie on the train glared at us. Well at least I get paid. Hooray.

In the meanwhile, there's a little inconvenience known as the Bar Exam or PLC exams as they call it to get through first. Which is really a terrible bore as exams always are, the older I get the more I detest it. Because to me, it's always just a test of how well you can flip through the stacks of notes during the span of two to three hours, hopefully mix and match the issue to the answers and try to smoke ones way through while hoping for the best.

This exam will be no different, apart from the fact it comprises a whopping six subjects, voluminous stacks of muggers that make one weep when attempting to plow through it for the first time and determines whether one actually gets called to the Bar as an Advocate & Solicitor of Singapore; the modus operandi remains the same. Go in, sit down, read, flip flip flip, scribble and smoke, come out, moan and hope to have passed.

Not that I have much of a choice, the level of preparation goes down with each passing exam and for the current one, I still haven't touched Conveyancing at all and a quarter of the useful albeit very dry Civil Procedure. And when I say touch, I mean reading the stuff for the first time. Thank god for weekends.

Seriously, this is one of those times I wish I could just zip on ahead, say 12 days into the future, secure in the knowledge that everything that's needed to be done has already been done. It remains a pleasant daydream of course, enough to while away the time. On a wholly unrelated note, I finally found the missing wedding ring after a desperate two day search that involved rummaging through the rubbish bin (don't laugh, the last time I lost it, it was mixed up with tissue paper that I then threw into the bin much to Sean's chagrin), moving dusty cupboards all in an attempt to find the elusive ring.

Which I finally found in the pants pocket of my freshly washed laundry. I'm horrible I know, what kind of partner/husband loses his/her wedding ring not once but twice. Terrible. For now, I'll probably just do like Aileen says, wear it all the time. Or put it in a box, a habit that never lasts more than two weeks at most. Sigggghh. Back to more yawn-inducing notes.

Wednesday, November 21, 2007

Sweet Secrets: Deceive to Please.

I was on the way home after a none-too-successful study session that involved more yakking and snacking than actual studying. The train was packed as usual, not sardine rush-hour packed but sufficiently cramped such that it left one with little space between other people. So it was thus that I couldn't help overhearing the conversation between a teenager (boy next door look, 17 years old max) and his mom. I say couldn't help overhearing because he was right beside me and his loud, clear voice was audible through the Enya playing on my headphones.

So anyway this boy was asking for permission to stay over at a guy friend's place cause it'd be convenient for them to go over to the chalet in Pasir Ris the next morning. And he was very earnest, even though he only explicitly mentioned 'please' once, the undertone of 'pleeeeeasee, pleeeeeasee' ran throughout the entire conversation. The desperate to get permission but trying to sound nonchalant about it and failing miserably kind of tone if you get my drift.

Then his mom (because only a mother would say something like that) must have told him not to do anything funny (which on hindsight is exactly what the mother used to say, only in more explicit terms- the woman who used to think going out 1 on 1 with a girl is prelude to sex, 2 guys = Brokeback Mountain and a party of 3 or more, potential Orgy) cause the boy went,"Huh? What do you mean by doing something funny?" He rapidly recovered though and promised her what she wanted to hear for he soon ended with a jubilant "Ya, I know. Thanks."

Rapid pressing of keypad. "Hello dear? Ya, can. *Beams* On the train now..Ok I'll see you there." And ended with a smile plastered on his face. Definitely not a casual friend on the other end. It could have been a hot chick but I strongly suspect our eager friend's a gay boy. Not that he looked/acted feminine or carried himself in the stereotypical gay sense (bent hand, etc). It's hard to put it down precisely, it's the little things said and done plus the feeling or 'vibes' if you prefer, that you get.

And when he got off the train at Toa Payoh, he strode off at a brisk trot, the bounce in his stride of anticipated pleasure and barely suppressed glee reinforced by that faint smile still lingering on his face. The what I like to call 'Gonna get laid' look.

Which brought back fond memories of the lodestone of excuses Army provided: guard duty, going outfield for exercise, parades, etc just to spend the night with Sean.

Ah, the lies we speak for the pleasures we seek.

Saturday, November 17, 2007

Naruto: Clash of the Ninja Revolution

No, it's not the Apocalypse. Just another Naruto free for all bitch fight on the Wii with fellow inmates from IMH. Taking gaming to a whole new level.

Yep yep. I blame it on the stress exerted by the upcoming exams or rather the stress for the lack of stress which should currently be exerting itself. Whatever. I love free for alls. Roawr. Scream.

Friday, November 16, 2007

Old Changi Hospital.

Yesterday instead of mugging (what's new), I paid changi hospital a visit with a bunch of other like-minded bored souls. The old one that is. We figured we might as well go since it'll be torn down soon. So determined in our efforts to get spooked were we, that we returned twice, once in the late afternoon and another again after dinner. If only because the afternoon sojourn while a little creepy rapidly lost its freaky factor as the shadows lengthened and voracious swarms of mosquitoes attacked.

The place I must say is really more rundown than scary. Everything's in a state of disrepair (duh) with assorted fixtures dangling precariously from the ceiling, pools of fetid water and a crap load of debris. The evening expedition did take on a whole different flavour though, there is just something about the dark and having to make do with a tiny torch wielded by someone who shrieks everytime a bat flies past.

We did stumble upon the mortuary(?) in the basement, an area we didn't explore earlier, one which was arguably the freakiest place of all. Four sweaty peeps huddled close in a formation that gravitated towards torch light which swung about frenziedly was an interesting experience. I screamed. The rest certainly did too and Kate looked like she was hyperventilating at one stage with her black woman declarations of 'Oh god, oh god, I'm too old for this!'

Still, other than a couple of goose-bump inducing moments the night was largely uneventful. No headless ghosts or women crying out for their babies. No apparitions materialising out of thin air. Though I'm pretty sure if we shone the torch at a particularly dark corner and a sight like this greeted us;

we'd have run shrieking from the place faster than you can say boo.

Tuesday, November 13, 2007


In silence he waits, inhabiting your dreams of old, muttering things yet untold.

Feet dragging across the forest floor, dead leaves and twigs rustling, cracking. The snapping of brittle bones upon a barren battlefield.

Turning in the eternal gloom, the shadows you see transient, fluid.

Like Sprites, they dance. Melding into the skeletal trees, threading the carpeted sea of brown before vanishing into the lengthening shadows.

Ephemeral these thoughts are, hard to fathom, harder to control.

But they are not what you sense, he remains hidden, watching and waiting.

Then when in weariness, you lie insensate, the dry dead foliage embracing one with haste; he emerges from the shadows, caressing your forehead with a kiss.
'Up.' he breathes. Your body resists but he grips you hard and will not desist.

With a reedy sigh that echoes the rustle of tumbling leaves, one is released from the earthy grave.

Embracing you, he coaxes you forward. Step by step. Shadows flee and silence descends, a suffocating blanket, deafening in its entirety.

Must we go in flames? In bouts of fitful ire, raging against the dying light?

When Oblivion be such painless release, the vacuous mind devoid of clouding shadows?

But for now, on you plod, the crackling of downtrodden undergrowth drowning out his muttered observations, the flitting shadows blinding one from his faint silhouette.

So patiently he waits, watching and waiting.

Sunday, November 11, 2007

Carnal Confession

I was chatting on MSN with an acquaintance the other day, an old flame to be precise. One of those occasions that people who have never communicated for years decide to do so on a whim and suddenly realise they have so much to talk about. The conversation started out with the perfunctory "Hey how have you been, not dead yet?" kind of greeting before inevitably progressing to the current state of affairs and our sex lives. Or the lack thereof in his case.

"Work's such a bitch." he moaned. "Tell me about it, I'll be joining you soon." "Hope you like the long hours." "Not much of a choice there..." Then he was groaning about how little time he could spend with the other half, a tertiary student seven years his junior and how the inability to fuck as often as they would like to sometimes added to the tension. A fact I fully commiserate with, precocious testosterone driven male teenagers with mental faculties of reasoning that largely reside in that turgid member between their legs are perpetually horny and almost always thinking about sex. I should know, I was a teenager once. Heck, I'm almost 25 now and I'm still horny. Just not always.

Whereupon J. suddenly declared.
"You've always been a carnal creature. You know that don't you?"
"Huh?" I offered taken aback, unbidden mental images of a Pan-like orgasmic revelry coming to mind.
"You know, always being so impulsive and going for what you want. You even lose yourself so totally in sex."
" Well, doesn't everyone? I might be a beast in bed but outside of it I'm pretty human."
"That is debatable."
"Oh really? Aren't you one yourself ? Sex in the office and while attached too." I rebutted.
"Just a moment's indiscretion. I remain a perfect gentleman." came the reply.
"Right, right. Many moments of indiscretion if I recall correctly."
" Ha ha, those were the days."
"Yep, those halcyon days."

I guess there is some truth to his observation though, disturbingly phrased as it may be. Except for stuff that would result in potentially disastrous consequences(ie: Death or getting locked away for a looong long time), I've never really thought twice about making decisions or going for things which promise potential gratification. It's always been do/get first and worry about the consequences later.

This habit of living for the moment and instant gratification probably has to be my greatest fault, it certainly doesn't bode well for the wallet. One reason why I absolutely detest window shopping: because there's a chance I'll see something I fancy and grab it at all costs without stopping to ponder every single merit like Sean (sometimes so exasperatingly ^^) does. A habit that unfortunately causes him much grief sometimes, most recently manifested in the form of my Wii purchase. Sorry dear:P

So yes, in that way I am very much a carnal creature, though it may sound unpleasant, it remains an inescapable fact that my personal philosophy appears to be enjoy now, think/worry later. Hardly a prudent one but certainly very enjoyable. I am trying to change though, if not only for the fact I'll give Sean a heart attack at the rate I'm going. Some priorities however will never change. Like Sex or Balancing Work with Play.

Which is the reason why I'm going to play Naruto on the Wii now. Time to indulge in some carnality. Ta ta.

Friday, November 9, 2007


Dream they said because Dreams push you further, drive you harder, make you better.
Aim for the stars and should you fall, the moon be yours.

But Dreams are for the idle and the free.
And I am neither.
Baptismal of tears, truth etched in the shifting sands of Time.
Cognizant yet unaware, Master and Slave.

Life tempered by blood and fire.

Wednesday, November 7, 2007


If Time is the great destroyer of human aspirations, cruelly laying bare lofty ideals to be empty shells; Inertia, the great disabler of actions, must be its twin sister. A silent seductress, it sneaks up upon one and gently enfolds you in its embrace, lulling one into a false sense of complacency. Then when you wake and attempt to flee, Inertia tightens the noose and its vice-like grip, a paralysis that requires extreme willpower or panic-induced franticness to overcome.

After all, it's always easier to go,' Oh there's always tomorrow'. And with tomorrow comes another tomorrow. And the strangehold tightens. I was supposed to have started the revision on Monday. Keyword here of course being supposed. As usual my favourite mistress, Inertia, had to keep me busy with everything else other than work. Procrastination, a luxury we can ill afford but often liberally pamper ourselves with.

With great determination, I have resolved to start tomorrow because I'll need the less than 3 weeks to master the basics (ie: pass) for the 6 subjects. And I have no intention of being gripped by panic-fuelled paralysis at the eleventh hour, when the full import of the I-am-so-fucking-screwed realisation sets in and end up like this:

Artwork: Kisaragi Hirotaka's Brother X Brother

I so fucking hate studying for exams. Rather go back to work anytime. Sigggghhhhhhhh.

Monday, November 5, 2007

Wee for Wii.

Yep, I literally broke the bank for it, but I'm finally a proud albeit nearly bankrupt owner of a nintendo Wii set, which means I'll be having bread and water for the next two months. Seriously. Naturally and understandably, the Significant Other was none too pleased. But thankfully, he does understand and forgive (somewhat) my transgressions even though they probably piss him off no end. ^^

For finger idiots like me who suck at your classical controller kind of console games (ie: PS3, XBox 360, etc), Wii was a refreshing change because it empowers the gamer to execute the moves through a series of hand/arm movements that are instinctively (for me at least) easier to pull off with the desired results. Attempting to twist rebellious joysticks or smashing control pads into submission in order to produce a particular combo failed more often than not, leaving sore thumbs, chapped skin and a healthy string of curses.

The 'exercise while gaming' bit, just a convenient side benefit though it remains a useful excuse for explaining away the sizeable sum spent on the wii. The packaged Wii sports, especially tennis, does make one work up a sweat after a while as one swings, punches and bats one's way through the various matches. You also get your 'Wii age' ascertained through a series of tests that aim to determine your reflex actions and accuracy, I was deemed to be a dismal 69 years after the first round. I blame it on the controls.

Anyhow, the major fun factor thus far have been provided by the other games, specifically the fantastic Naruto: Clash of the Ninja Revolution. Bleach is rather enjoyable too, the graphics are good and you can play up to 32 characters from the anime after having unlocked all of them. The story however differs from the anime and because the gameplay involves a lot of hacking/slashing and thrusting with the Wii remote, your arm feels like its going to drop off after 15 -30 mins.

Naruto however is a real blast, it follows the anime religiously and the gameplay while involving more use of the buttons, is more instinctive and certainly easier on the arms than Bleach. You start out with 8 playable characters and unlock the remaining 12 by completing missions with different characters which in turn unlock more missions and new characters. The moves are relatively easy to execute once you get the hang of it and you get to execute the signature jutsu by the various characters, Chidori by Kakashi, Shikamaru's Shadow Bind Technique, Gaara's Desert Coffin, etc by shaking the remote and nunchak as displayed onscreen.

My personal favourite remains Orochimaru, fast with the ability to execute flashy combos with normal moves that land the most hits, his snake sword jutsu is both deadly with a sick range that allows him to impale opponents to devastating effect. Itachi is a little overpowered, probably the fastest character in the game, he is able to disappear and ambush with startling alacrity and his dreaded Mangekyo Sharingan ability, Tsukuyomi eliminates up to 65% of an opponent's life, only less than Naruto's very flashy Rasengan which does up to 75% damage but requires Naruto to have 40% life or less.

The cheapest character by far has to be Temari, the wind bitch. Unparalleled at range, she does a nasty knockup at close range and her special jutsu is unblockable. She remains the only character I obtained Hokage rank with after completing the mission arc on normal difficulty. Anthony came over the other day and we were playing vs the comp which while incredibly entertaining, gets very messy when you have 4 characters flying about all over the screen but it introduces a dynamic aspect not found in your usual 1 vs 1 game, such as deciding whether to do a tag team on a particular character first.

And of course free for alls in 4 way fights between Anthony, Kevin, me and one Hard computer are orgies of combos, yelps and special jutsus that don't always hit their intended target. Usually we team up against the computer first, trying to shake off the rabid dog while taking as little damage as possible then ganging up on whoever has the most life left before slugging it out. I must say Naruto has been one of the more enjoyable console games I've played so far, the Shippuuden version which allows players to play up to 64 characters (*swoon*) should be out next year hopefully. I can hardly wait.

For now though, the dreaded exams are looming and it's time to start mugging. Really Really soon.

Wednesday, October 31, 2007

Hellgate London

From the creators of Diablo, the much awaited and highly acclaimed Hellgate London is finally here. I doubt I'd be one of those queueing at Funan IT mall later today, with the upcoming PLC exams, it'll be near suicide should I get my hands on that. I'll just have to be satisfied with third party feedback from Anthony and Kevin, as usual.

I'll get it no doubt about that, just probably sometime in December.. but I still want that Wii set first. Argh, so much to buy, so little money to spend. Grumble grumble.


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Monday, October 29, 2007

The Cell

After a frenzied marathon of 136 + episodes, I'm finally out of Naruto. *Sob* So I rummaged through my old collection of DVDs and settled upon The Cell. It still possesses the same enigmatic quality and remains as gripping as it first was when I sneaked in at GV Balestiar to catch it back in 2000 (since it was still R(A) back then). The strength of the show lies not in its characters nor even in the plot which is really quite simple, it is the imagery and the concepts which are entailed therein that makes one sit up and for the most part either love or hate the movie. But one can't help but be disturbed (in varying degrees) by what one sees, certainly by the scene where Vincent D'Onofrio (the killer) pokes a hole in Vince Vaughn's (FBI agent) stomach and fishes out some intestine which he proceeds to spiral around a rotisserie. Really.


The story starts with a sadistic mentally disturbed killer who goes round drowning helpless nymphs in airtight glass tanks. After one of his S&M sessions (stringing himself up on meat hooks attached to the ceiling), he has a seizure and falls into a coma just as the FBI finally bust his ass. Problem is, one victim remains alive, her whereabouts unknown and they have to find her within 48 hours.

Enter J.Lo as a child therapist who agrees to use a new treatment to enter the killer's mind and uncover the secrets. This is where the movie becomes gruesomely riveting. The extensive and elaborate visual imagery and costumes present a disturbing preview into the mind of a mentally deranged person. With scenes ranging from broken life-size dolls spinning eerily behind glass windows, to bathtubs of blood, to lifeless females sitting in perfect angles across desert dunes, their mouths gaping at the setting sun, to a boy being physically abused by his dad for breaking the dishes, one experiences a gamut of emotions from revulsion, sadness, mild unease, pity, wonder to amazement.

The often frequent and abrupt changes of scenes that remain slightly disturbing while being weirdly beautiful at times and the riot of images,colour and sounds, an assault on the senses; only serve to reinforce the surreality and warped nature of the mind- a place where anything goes and the potential to imprison lies in its ability to construct illusions.

One of the most goose-bump inducing scenes (not freaky shit ones--that probably has to go to the intestine curling part) is the one where J Lo suddenly awakes (still in his mind) drenched and exhausted. And she notices that she is in some brightly lit great hall, then suddenly there is a great rustling sound as the lilac velvet which covers the sides of the hall are pulled back at great speed, rushing through the bronze hoops affixed to the walls. And she rises, turning slowly, wearily and with great dread. To see the killer striding grimly down the steps from his throne towards her, the reams of lilac velvet attached to great rings pierced through his back. Then she screams in mortal terror, pressing the flesh between her forefinger and thumb desperately as she does so (to activate the termination mechanism). Words do the scene little justice.

So anyway silly woman that she is, she goes in another time and this time she gets trapped. Literally collared. And it's up to Vince Vaughan (Dodgeball) as potential love interest to rescue her before it's too late. Be prepared for more mind-numbing scenes, especially the part where he approaches a collared J Lo who sits poised like a cat ready to strike, except that she seems absolutely lifeless, her eyes betraying no hint of emotion. Or the infamous intestine curling part, the scream, blood curdling. Shudders.

The conclusion however possesses an element of redemption as J Lo moved by the small boy, the last shred of innocence left in the comatose killer attempts to redeem him by reversing the feed and bringing him into her mind. Approaching the boy in the likeness of the Madonna (the virgin one), she tries to coax him to follow her, to let her reach out to him. Only to be thwarted by the masochistic killer who metamorphoses from a swan in one of the lily ponds, darkness descending as he does so. J Lo's startling transformation from the Virgin Mary into a vengeful gothic Xena, complete with midnight black lipstick, crazed witch hairdo and a gleaming golden crossbow is priceless.

Much as I've spoiled the rest of the movie, I'll leave the end intact. Suffice it to say, that it was bitter-sweet, with redemption, however incomplete.

Thursday, October 25, 2007

Nudité de la vérité

No, I'm not dead...yet. Just a little something called PLC and the slew of assignments and other miscellaneous stuff with tight deadlines. That and the regular breaks taken in between to catch Naruto which I started re-watching again on a whim since I'd stopped at around episode 30 previously, halfway through the Chuunin exams bit. It's certainly been quite gripping, one of the more addictive series since Inuyasha and Bleach. Nothing like some high-octane fuelled action between insanely strong rivals.

Norton Internet Security on the other hand has been a real bitch with the bloody Appsvc32.exe process consuming up to 99% of CPU resources which translates into horrible long loading time for programs and the propensity to get stuck at regular intervals for a minute or two. A quick search on the net showed that this problem is prevalent and I tried a tip or two. Now to see whether it works, if not, it's good riddance to NIS, can't have a single program hogging up 90% of the CPU.

Anyhow, it's back to the grind(for now), and I leave you with this artful piece of prose by Paul Eluard, one of a few poems I think are truly beautiful, even though it may seem strange to describe it as thus. French is such a sensual language.

Nudité de la vérité
«Je le sais bien»
Le désespoir n'a pas d'ailes,
L'amour non plus,
Pas de visage,
Ne parlent pas,
Je ne bouge pas,
Je ne les regarde pas,
Je ne leur parle pas
Mais je suis bien aussi vivant que mon amour
[et que mon désespoir.]

The Nakedness of Truth
(I know it well)
Despair has no wings,
Nor has love,
No countenance:
They do not speak.
I do not stir,
I do not behold them,
I do not speak to them,
But I am as real as my love and my despair.

Paul Eluard

Saturday, October 20, 2007

Baby Brew

Today was one of those rare occasions, Sean was on leave and it just so happened that the Sister, who was also off, wanted to have a little fun in the sun and some baking session with her girl friends which meant my place was free, gloriously and totally empty. Not quite your once-in-a-century-Jupiter-aligns-with-Mars rarity but close. And when such golden opportunities to indulge in uninhibited workouts that have nothing to do with conventional exercise present themselves, you seize them. Which we did.

So after a couple of sojourns in bed, a short nap and the meatilicious meatball lunch at Ikea, we headed back to his place. His mom was ill however and wanted to see the doctor so we basically had to keep an eye on his 7 months old nephew, Jarrod till she returned. He's a cute baby, bit of baby fat on the cheeks, tiny grasping hands and the longest eyelashes I've ever seen on a baby. The kind that'd make you'll boo boo at and start baby talking to.

Babies in particular and to an extent, kids are fun to play with as long as they aren't your kids. You can always play with them and shower them with some attention but at the end of the day you can (and will) still say bye. Having your own kids though is a whole different ball game and it's not everyone's cup of tea. Certainly not mine. But playing with them can be fun. Till they throw up on you or something.

I'd played with Jarrod on the few occasions he'd been around when I came over. Nothing much, just the usual tickle and perfunctory pat on the head, then it was off to my favourite room in Sean's house. But today, we had to 'keep an eye' on him, till Sean's mom returned. Sean vanished for a while to settle some stuff after warning me not to pick him up cause 'You'll be stuck with him then', so basically it was just the two of us eyeing each other.

First Contact: Looking on a little startled in Big-Bright-Eyed-Wonder. And we always wonder what's going on in their heads. I must have looked like some alien peering into the cot at him. Jarrod was certainly fascinated by the flash though.

He's a grabber. Reaching out in a flash, Jarrod grabbed the proffered thumb without hesitation. And what goes on behind those big, liquid eyes? Possibly something like Big + Wriggly = Fun. Grab!

Feeling it up. But the extended index finger interested him more apparently, one which he gripped tightly with his tiny left hand and proceeded to pinch the tip repeatedly with his right hand much like your average housewife pinching/prodding a piece of meat to see how fresh it is. Observe his serious countenance as he pinches. Hmm long + fleshy. Pinch pinch.

Num Num. Then as I was tickling him under the chin, he grabbed with startling alacrity, my thumb and little finger and shoved my middle finger into his mouth which he sucked happily and chomped on hard with his still toothless gums. Then he'd take it out, still tightly gripping my thumb and little finger, inspect it for a while then proceed to shove it back in and suck/chomp on it while grinning at me, cheeks puffy as he sucked/chomped away. A process he repeated for sometime. I was laughing non-stop the entire time. This kid has potential be a bright lad. What were you thinking? Tsk tsk.

Baby Dracula. After a while Jarrod decided that my finger, long and juicy as it may be was insufficient. He'd tasted finger and now he wanted more. Which was when he proceeded to grab my index finger and shove both that and the little finger into his hungry, chomping little maw. Which he then proceeded to suck/gnaw on with obvious relish. As you can tell from that look of sublime bliss on his face.

Then Sean appeared and it was his turn to entertain his nephew. Seriously though, adorable babies like Jarrod are fun to play with but at the end of the day they're still not your kids which is really, in my opinion, what keeps the fun factor alive. Having kids of your own though is totally different and even if I were straight, thanks but no thanks.

Thursday, October 18, 2007

In the Mood for Crap.

I hate it when we fight. Or when money comes into the picture. Hate it, hate it, Hate it.
Maybe I've been too 'non-inclusive'. After all, being together means doing little things together right? So I'm probably wrong. But I don't get it sometimes. And I'll need his help to get it. Yet the it's for your own good kind of rationale always pisses me off no end. Like seriously. Even though he doesn't mean to, it does. The kind of stubborn rage that invites calamity.

So maybe sometimes I don't want to get it. Not if I have to hear that. I'm just a pig-headed fool sometimes, I know. But right now, I'm in a state of Blah. Frustrated, Annoyed, Grumpy, Depressed. Even though I probably am wrong. Am I? This fucking sucks.

Tuesday, October 16, 2007

AarinSecret #2: By Fans for Fans.

The second issue of AarinSecret, a free online Yaoi magazine, has recently been released (3rd October '07) by the staff of Aarinfantasy, that mega one-stop english portal for all things Yaoi. That's the same fansubbing and scanlation group that churned out favourite Yaoi (as well as some non-yaoi ones) series and titles like Loveless, Enzai, Close the Last Door and of course the glorious, extremely smutty and uncensored Sensitive Pornograph.

Professional right? I'd even buy it if they sold it. Thankfully it's free. Download your copy here.
Cover picture is a wonderful piece of fan art of Itachi & Sasuke done by a very talented Russian fan, Yanagoya.

As expected, this release while free as usual, lived up to the same professional standards of all their other works. And at 104 pages, it's chock a block full of goodies ranging from high quality fan art, reviews of the different mangas, movies and anime titles to quizzes and interviews. Even the layout is what you'd normally expect from a published(ie: not free) magazine, attractive cover, detailed content page and easy to read layout.

The magazine starts out with an editor cum Yaoi fangirl's insightful article about her obsession with Yaoi and the reactions of people around her to her interest. The team also included a section on fans which included short interviews and features of artworks and fan fictions but I found the real life experiences about getting caught watching/reading Yaoi highly amusing.

Which I guess is excruciating if your mom walks in while one is watching the very explicit Sensitive Pornograph just as one of the graphic sex scenes is unfolding replete with sounds that leave nothing to imagination. A situation a forumer faced and in her(assuming it's a her) own words:
"My mom saw me watching Sensitive Pornograph! was during a sex scene..Agh!! What do I do?!! Well actually since I handled it badly, there's not much I can do now." -Lunefin
Yeah, well I can imagine.
Lunefin's mom: "...What is that?"
Lunefin:" Ah ah.. er .. the play we need to review for school.."
L's mom: "What? Let me see!"
L: NO!!! *panics and jams the power button while frantically attempting to block the screen with her body*

Maybe the thought of locking the door and using headphones never crossed their minds. Though if I would ever be unfortunate enough to be caught with my pants down (in all senses of the word), which I have no intention of ever being, I'd probably experience something akin to what the poor MrsTaraYuyMaxwell faced when her mom found her previewing some steamy man on man yaoi action.

"You might be startled to hear that when my mother found out she tried to exorcise me... three times. She'd throw water in my face and slam me up against the wall before proceeding to shake me harshly against the wall. All the while she would scream things like,'DEMONS BEGONE!!! LEAVE MY CHILD IN PEACE AND TAKE YOUR PERVERTED DESIRES WITH YOU!!!' And crap like that."- MrsTaraYuyMaxwell.

Yeah, not kidding. It's always easier to blame the devil for things they deem unacceptable than to recognise and accept the fact that their kid is perfectly fine. Though perhaps at this juncture, it'd be good to give em a run for their money and do your best 'Exorcist' impersonation, replete with the peasoup vomit and booming demonic voice. Sans the 360 degree head turn, not unless you're really possessed or you'd like to die trying. I doubt the Yaoi Demon empowers twisting anything more than a turgid part of the male anatomy.

So anyway, kudos to the team for releasing the second issue. Better late than never. And if you're a Yaoi fangirl or fanboy and haven't downloaded the AarinSecret magazine yet, watcha waiting for? Scroll up and grab it.

Monday, October 15, 2007

China Food Lodge.

It gets boring having dinner after tutorials at the Chinatown area sometimes, especially when as of late we seem just to head for the nearby and convenient food centre at People's Park Complex. The food there is generally nice, though I find myself patronising the same few stalls and at times craving the superb Yu Sang introed by Ed. and CS back at the temporary market near Outram MRT.

So anyway, after meeting Sean for an impromptu dinner, we decided to try out this Chinese food outlet (the name of which when translated literally is 'China Food Lodge') a couple of shops down from the Sarawak Jia Xiang Kolo mee, directly opposite the Yue Hwa Chinese goods departmental store, along the Hotel 81 chinatown stretch. We'd walked past it before and it was always jam packed with people, the majority of whom were unmistakably PRC nationals so the food must certainly be authentic and decent to boot.

The place was packed like always but thankfully we got a table soon and the food was excellent. Large, huge-ass portions and great food, though ordering initially was a little difficult cause all the waitress gave us was some order list that was entirely in chinese (duh) but without a menu (and hence no pictures). Though I found out later, they had those available but they probably thought that we looked like we knew what we wanted. Thankfully it didn't matter, the food was tasty and really good value for money.

Pork Rib noodles (La Mian) - 5 Bucks. Lots of juicy pork ribs and very piquant soup.

Clockwise from left: Steamed pork with cabbage dumplings, Sean's noodles (forgot the name but it was just as good), Cang You Bing (Scallion pastry), pork rib noodles.

All that food and two glasses of barley came up to just $17. So it's understandable why it's so popular. Plus it's open till 3am, so if you're around that area and want a little supper, you'll know where to head to. We certainly intend to return again soon.

And to top it off, I finally found the Little Britain series I'd been looking for, turns out I mixed up Poh Kim with Blue Max, a little pricey perhaps but I absolutely love the wicked wit and the various hodgepodge of dysfunctional characters in the show which comedians Matt Lucas and David Walliams portray devastatingly well.

Who can ever forget that repulsive, hilarious monstrosity in a pink jacket that is Vicky Pollard? ('No but yeah but no but yeah') Ironing won't be such a chore, for now at least. ^^

Nanashi's Anime Friday

I stumbled upon nanashi's anime blog while surfing for more details on the upcoming Code Geass Season 2. It's an interesting site, always nice to stumble on fellow anime fan sites especially those who put in a lot of hard work and effort into reviewing the various anime series. Nanashi has an innovative FAnime Friday feature where there's a weekly friday feature about anime from episode/anime reviews to soundtracks and various useful nuggets of information.

I've always found reviews by other anime fans helpful, you get a gist of what the series is about and then get to decide for yourself whether to go preview it. It's nice to see that Claymore isn't an anime just popular with the guys, which one might be inclined to believe since it's all about hot, passionate women wielding huge claymores(duh) as they battle monstrous youma (monsters) and there's gore a plenty. I may be gay but I absolutely loved Claymore even though Raki was a bit too weepy at times. Which made me want to slap him, well maybe hug him after that ^^.

Though I must say that the voice actor Motoki Takagi who also played Midori in Loveless nailed the part rather well. That weepy, wants to be tough but really vulnerable character bit. Nanashi's Fanime Friday feature is certainly worth checking out, though it would be nice if she could start some contest or other more interactive features, that would certainly spice things up. :)

Friday, October 12, 2007

Random Ramblings

Because I'm too lazy to come up with a more descriptive name unlike last time, and it is a convenient way of blogging about small, wholly unrelated events. If it seems too disjointed, too bad, coherency seems to be something I'm lacking in today. The headings should help though.

Insolent Casanovas and why they should be shot.

Sean told me yesterday that G. one of his closer friends called up crying in the morning while he was at work and asked for advice. I don't really know G. very well having only met her twice but other than being a little over the top and slightly divaish, she appears to be nice. Which Sean says she is, mostly that is. Apparently, she'd still been seeing the guy at work and continuing their relationship both in office and out of it in spite of the fact that she has a loving(or so I'm told) boyfriend studying in Australia and had been advised by mutual friends to stop seeing that guy. But like Sean said, pussy itchy la, which aptly sums it up.

She'd been sleeping with him for close to a year now, and having unprotected sex, something she'd denied doing till G called Sean up that morning crying and blurted out everything. Which I guess was not really surprising, I had been marvelling at how they had in her own words, just gone as far as heavy petting with some foreplay but no penetration and just stopped there. It didn't really sound correct but naturally you give people the benefit of the doubt when they talk about their personal activities in bed.

So anyway, this chap was diagnosed with TB and informed by the doctors that it was extremely rare for a young-ish guy (30s) to have Tuberculosis and HIV was listed as a potential cause. Which naturally sent G. into a tizzy and panic attack mode. Most people would certainly be considerably upset. What made matters a lot worse was that casanova (and he certainly doesn't look like one.. bleah) told her point blank to her face that even when he got the results of the HIV testing back he wouldn't tell her the results. Which I think is quite ridiculous.

You possibly get someone infected with HIV yet instead of doing what you can to come clean with the people you've had sex with to allow them to decide on their next course of action, you act like a total bastard. True the person might have been a consensual sexual partner but that doesn't mean they consented to sleeping with a potential HIV partner and even if they are partially to be blame, it doesn't give one the excuse to be a total bastard and not let people whom you may very possibly have infected know about your condition or lack thereof when you get the results back.

So G went for the full battery of tests and after a nerve wracking 24 hours was informed that the test results were negative. She does need to abstain and go again in 3 months time to get a clean bill of health because they only just stopped having sex recently. Naturally, she is not blameless but I will not comment on the infidelity aspect, being in no position to do so having myself been guilty of it before while attached to Sean and he was studying( in australia too). Suffice to say, the temptation is strong, the flesh is weak and one stumbles if one doesn't know very clearly what one wants in the relationship.

She'll have to come up with something when the boyfriend returns the following week, to explain just why they can't get it on like bunnies, at least not for the next 3 months. My take is it's pretty hard to come up with a convincing and plausible excuse(lie) for that so confessing would be the best but it's certainly not easy and it's a decision G. will have to make for herself. At the end of the day though, aside from the infidelity bit, it is wise to choose one's sex partners with care or at least those you have unprotected sex with.

HIV unfortunately remains a very real threat and sometimes I am thankful I escaped unscathed from my own escapades. Unprotected sex with casanovas is literally like Russian Roulette and insolent bastards like the one G slept with should be shot and castrated for good measure.

Anime & Manga Blitz

The past few months saw the avid consumption of a number of great anime series, most of which have sadly come to an end. Series like Claymore, Death Note, Code Geass Season 1 and now Darker than Black (sob sob no more Hei). It's always a mixed bitter-sweet feeling I have at the end of a good series, the glad that it has concluded nicely yet wistful, wishing it would go on kind of mixed emotion. Often, I even rue the fact I'll never see the characters (the animated ones at least) again but I guess closure is good sometimes. Better to end splendidly then to drag on and on.

Thankfully, there's still Bleach and Naruto Shippuuden to look forward too, and the anime is now following the manga and the plot is captivating even if they seem to be slowing down on releases lately. In other news, I'm really glad D Gray Man isn't ending at 52 as originally planned, that would have totally sucked, since at episode 51, the show is nowhere ever near the end or some sort of decent closure. Anime news network shows more upcoming episodes till at least 64 which is scheduled to air on christmas day in Japan so hopefully we'll be in for a lot more action.

Been doing a lot more Yaoi reading lately especially since the allure of CoV is starting to wane, to catch up on the unread hardcopy mangas and the softcopy scanlations. More gems amidst the sometimes fluffy stuff of lightweight plots and glorious smut that is typically yaoi. In particular, a few mangakas like Fujiyama Hyouta, Keiko Konno, Yamada Yugi, Shiuko Kano and Miyamoto Kano depict the relationship and real life issues very accurately in ways that are both moving and heartwarming. And just like the good anime series, I get that same bitter-sweet, happy yet wistful feeling upon finishing a good book/series.

Finishing volume 3 of Miyamoto Kano's moving and thought provoking Rules which depicted the obstacles and intricacies in the relationships between two couples and various old flames/friends was no different. Little sigh.

My abysmal luck with Taxi Drivers and Sister's Bakes

Ok I get crappy taxi drivers on a basis that is annoying in its frequency. Remember the taxi driver from hell? This one must be his compatriot. Grabbing the passing cab after catching Resident Evil: Extinction at AMK Hub with Sean today (which was typically almost identical to your average Zombie-Undead-Only remaining human Survivors left on a barren earth plot. The only redeeming grace was watching a trench coat clad Mila Jovorich hack off heads like a demoness on crack.) proved to be a mistake.

Slow old man who didn't know half the roads (come on ok, he didn't even know when to turn into the CTE, it's a fucking EXPRESSWAY), drove at 40 km/h, kept going "Oh Jesus!" every two mins or so and was bloody rude (Cause he was so blur, I had to tell him turn left at road XX instead of just turn left, closer to my place I told him turn left at XX which was like the only way to turn anyway but I gave the wrong name YY whereupon that stupid sod said, 'what you don't even know the name of the roads of where you live?' Well hello I normally just say turn left or right here and every other taxi driver knows, besides you don't say that to a PAYING CUSTOMER. So I was tempted to snap at him but I resisted cause he may just have Jesused me or something.)

Sean even whispered,"Eh can I change cab?" That's how bad it was. So anyway apparently, when he dropped Sean off at his place after mine he declared that the meter was spoilt and charged Sean an extra self-determined $3.00 surcharge since 'tomorrow is Hari Raya Puasa, Public Holiday'. Talk about stinky service with a snarl.

There are things to look forward to, like the Sister's sinfully good Cream-cheese chocolate muffins topped with chocolate chips, which while fattening, is undeniably dee-lee-cious.

I polished two straight out of the oven and had one after the infuriating cab ride to cheer myself up. Nothing like a good dessert to perk one up. But which also means it's time for my jog to burn off a fraction of the calories and with that I bid you adieu.

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Wednesday, October 10, 2007

All Hail the Butch.

I re-activated my City of Villains cum City of Heroes on the 16th of September 2007, now 21 days, 50 levels and hours of unadulterated fun later; Butchia the corruptor is finally at the magical level 50, complete with almost all of the targeted enhancement sets. And not unexpectedly, the two who got me back on the game have vanished off the CoV blip map as usual.

But the road to 50 this time was a lot faster and certainly a whole lot more enjoyable than the painful grind with Sister Spite was, for one game content now is a whole lot more dynamic, team play correspondingly more fun, the addition of unique enhancement sets made a whole load of difference and most importantly a great and rowdy coalition of villain supergroups that made teaming much more enjoyable.

Naturally, one learns from experience too which means always going for the greatest amount of experience (XP) by teaming with groups 2-3 levels higher than you running relentless missions with mobs 4-6 levels higher than your current one. Which always translates into superb xp. Forget the run of the mill groups, or the pansies running on the normal- mid difficulty missions. Then once level 45 was achieved, it basically resulted in an orgy of continual farm sessions with the groups in Grandville which basically saw Butchia powerlevelled from 45-50 in 2 days.

Presenting the 5 faces/aspects of the online persona which has so thoroughly occupied my time these past 3 weeks.

Butchia the Succubus. Like the lesbian version of Chucky the doll, she was complimented on her frightfulness, which was precisely the effect it was supposed to achieve.

Butchia the Hell rider. Decked out in punk motorbike attire, replete with tattered trench coat, mini skirt, tube top, spider stockings and rocket boots. The butch motorbike punk look remains a favourite.

Butchia the pseudo-Hero. An effort to make her look more human and 'approachable' which explains the typical 'Hero' kind of look, tacky colours with headwings. The end result, a slightly deranged looking 'hero'.

Butchia the Demon. Still my favourite outfit for her, this one nails the part totally and others have been quick to comment on this too. Burned wings, lithe and seductively sharp markings complete with horns, spiked tail and a head that blazes with fire, Butchia unleashes her full demonic potential when in this state.

The last and latest outfit, this one comes a close second. Butchia the Mecha Bitch. Lord Recluse made a good photo op. Having taken part in countless raids against the Rikti Mothership, she finally accumulated enough merits for the full Vanguard set, which looks rather nice in a robotic way. Toss in a pair of Tech Wings that happened to drop and the outfit is complete.

And of course, what's so great about looking good if you don't get any action?

Boom: Wrecking mayhem on the streets.

Boom: Rikti Mothership raid, smacking a Monster Rikti wielding a sword twice her size.

BOOM: Nova, that dazzlingly delicious devastating display of death. Guaranteed to astound.

So this means I'll have more time to focus on the upcoming plc stuff and the dreaded assignments which are coming up. Though then again perhaps not a lot more time, the coalition and villain group in particular wanted a dominator and the allure of a new Archetype is never hard to resist especially one as wickedly fun as a dom. So Icky Irene was born and got powerlevelled to 12 by the resident farm teams in an hour. Oh happy days.

Icky Irene: the new Plant/Psionic Dominator. Carnivorous vines, a Giant Venus Flytrap pet and the ability to rip enemies apart with psychic wails. Mmm.