It used to be a good place to work. Friendly environment, good hours, decent work, shitty pay but hey something has to give and we were fully apprised of the fact. Comfortable, auto-cruise mode and you can understand why some people entered and stayed with a view towards retirement in the firm. I was even guilty of that once. Complacent and comfortable with the pace of things.
But times have changed, competition has picked up and while others are adapting and moving with the times, we seem to be stuck in a rut. Things have deteriorated slowly but steadily over the past couple of years. The laissez-faire attitude, lack of a clearly defined work structure and nelsonian blindness to changes, things which had initially appeared to be strengths of sorts, became afflictions. The absolute lack of system, the dearth of direction, the absence of channels of feedback, the wholly arbitrary and autocratic decision making all coupled to form a debilitating malaise emblematic of everything wrong with the department.
This in turn affected the work coming in, the quantity, scope and complexity of which began its inexorable decline. As one person noted aptly, the kind of work I'm getting and doing these days is sheer junk compared to what I used to be doing when I first started. Add the mind boggling attitude of senior management (i.e. those that mattered) towards the bread and butter areas of litigation, the lack of appreciation and transparency as well as an alarming tendency to ignore and address the problems on the ground, and you had a systemic failure of the system. If the current status of things could be regarded as a system that is.
The groundswell of discontent has hit the roof. What started out as a trickle, the first couple of resignations tendered has now triggered a tide. 6 in the span of 3 months with more to come. And soon pretty much the entire batch of associates will be gone in the next few months. The scariest thing is none of the problems have been addressed, not a single meeting convened, no damage control. All you see are a lot of worried faces, general denial and morale amongst those without plans dropping to an all time low.
You know you have a problem when all your associates are unhappy and are resigning en-masse in the span of less than 5 months. It's even worse when the resignations are not engineered for a walkout to a single firm but carefully considered decisions made to move to various places, united only by the collective conviction of the need to move and to move now. The total inaction and denial of the senior management based in no small part on a very myopic outlook of personnel replacement premised on replacing the seniors with cheap inexperienced trainees is stunning in its stupidity.
No one wants to be on a sinking ship. And right now that is certainly the sentiment on the ground. I'm glad I made the choice, for the path from now while harder, shall inevitably be more rewarding, more personally satisfying with a clear path for career progression. As for them, if nothing is done, they will find themselves with a dead department left to run very soon.
I love my post holiday leave day. Ostensibly taken because I need a day after a nice holiday to adapt and adjust my mindset back to the rigours of work. At least that's what I tell everyone. It's better than saying I'm lazy and want an extra day off to do anything but work. Which may include running my own personal errands I'd normally not get round to doing, more pampering, aimless slacking or other recreational activities like makan and movies. No contemplative meditation on the inescapable work that lies waiting, no zen like peace that wells up from within at the prospect of the week ahead. Definitely nothing work related. I'm almost religious in my observation of the post holiday leave day ritual.
It makes me feel good knowing I have an extra day to muck around and 'adapt', to do anything but work, while friends bemoan the drudgery of having to work the following day at the end of a holiday. I just beam and make all the right comforting sounds. Yes I'm a little bitch. But I honestly commiserate with them. That's why I take my post holiday leave cause I know exactly how it feels. Never mind that it costs me an extra day of leave or that more work may await or even that I do anything but 'acclimatise' myself for work. Balance is all important.
Today is one such day. Crammed pack with a plethora of activities since I'm not exactly in the nua at home mood and I needed to get out of the house anyway. Decided to go for my monthly grooming session at Browhaus even though my usual therapist was on leave. The brows were becoming a veritable mess of not quite Amazonian proportions but somewhat close. Some men may be proud of their bushy unkempt brows as a sign of their purported virility but really it's as sexy as that tuft of armpit hair you spotted in secondary (insert relevant educational institute) when mrs x raised her arm while scrawling equations on the board. If you like the caveman look, good for you.
I was hoping I would get a decent therapist. But thanks to my ever rotten luck, I was assigned tua neh bu. The same therapist who butchered my brows three months ago and left me with a lopsided brow landscape that had me weeping in front of the mirror for weeks. Alright I jest about the last. But tua neh bu butchered my brows. And here I was stuck with her. As you can guess, tua neh bu was more than amply endowed. She possesses an authoritative pair of gigantic boobs which seem to possess a life of their own. I use the term authoritative because her boobs have a commanding presence that demand your attention no matter how hard you try to ignore them. It's also a bit hard to ignore them since they are 1.) in your face and 2.) form 20% of the said individual.
Before I continue let me say I have nothing against our amply endowed friends of the fairer sex. Since you have been blessed with such gigantic jugs, don't be afraid to flaunt them. Lots of straight men will thank you for that. If not directly then perhaps warmly in their thoughts with some Kleenex. It's a tiny bit disconcerting though when you're trapped in a reclined seat and have nowhere to escape the presence of those ever commanding jugs. For me at least.
So it was that I was reclining in the seat when tua neh bu asked in Chinese how I wanted my brows to be done. She was beside my face, her jugs closer still. "You want it higher? Or just maintain the shape?" I couldn't tell who/what was speaking, the boobs or the bu( woman). The jugs quivering with a life of their own behind the barely restraining apron. Melons was all that came to mind. Recollecting with horror the last time I accepted her suggestion to 'improve the angle', I replied "Just 修理." in what I hoped was a firm voice, addressing the voice beyond the jugs while pointedly ignoring the mega mammaries. "You sure? I can improve it further though your natural shape is nice" the weapons of mass destruction jiggled, dangerously close. That childhood memory of reading about a man in US who sued Hooters for causing damage to his eyes after a waitress slammed her massive jugs into his face emerged unbidden from some forgotten recess of the mind where irrelevant facts are often stored. 'They felt like two slabs of concrete smashing into my face' I recalled the man recounting his harrowing experience with the WMDs.
"No need. Thanks." I replied. "Ok" came the answer. The mammaries quivered ominously and I hastily shut my eyes to escape further attention and commence the operation. Thankfully the touchup was fine, I guess the chance for butchered brows is greatly reduced when clearer parameters like " trim the grass at the edge and no do not make crop circles in the garden" is given. Funny how different parts of the anatomy and the size thereof can illicit such primal feelings and reactions. If gigantic mammaries can evoke such a response from a gay guy, you can only imagine the kind of impact they'd have on straight guys especially boob lovers. Of course the kind of reaction would be very different from quiet appreciation to unbridled lust.
Speaking of which I've never really understood the dual choice system imposed by straight guys. I'm talking about the often brandished ' Are you a boob or butt kind of guy?'. Surely in the simple male's world of attractive body parts, there's more choices to pick from than the elevated portions of a person's anatomy at different ends? How about I'm a face person? Personally I feel that's the most important part. Who cares if a person has a perky ass and gorgeous pecs if he has a mug that looks like a lorry reversed over a couple of times? From a purely superficial perspective of course. But we can argue about this till the cows come home and still not have a universally acceptable answer. To which I always say, whatever rocks your socks.
Looking back at the most recent posts, I realized that they've largely either been the depressive emo kind or invariably start off along the lines of "I haven't blogged for so long but here's what's happened so far". The emo depressive posts, on hindsight, are a little too emo for my liking; painting the picture of an emotionally challenged individual beset by many unhappy issues. Though that was how I truly felt then. And it was just many problems caused by a single individual. Who is no longer in a position to give any more problems or make my life miserable. Amazing how the simplest and most efficient solution can sometimes be the hardest to make. Even if it's there, screaming at you in the face.
Sometimes you scream back in the hope that it'll shut up when really the solution (so,sometimes and after due consideration) is to embrace it. Treating the problems often work though if it's something more pervasive and entrenched, removing the tumor is the only solution. But I digress. No qualms about using the same old phrase for the simple reason that it's true. A little uncreative perhaps but no one dies from a lack of original prose. From boredom perhaps. But I doubt reading the same line for three consecutive posts is going to send anyone into cardiac arrest. And thus I begin
I havent blogged for a while, for which i make no apologies, and yes loads has happened since. Dirty men getting dirtier, the rise and fall of a tumultuous relationship, forging of greater bonds with friends(some people have a rubber definition of such, and they are usually the saddest sort of sods around), some very unwanted drama and the contrast between friends who are there for you and "friends" who are volatile and seem to think the only way to get your attention is to make your life miserable.
If anything these past few months have reiterated the deeply held notion that talk is cheap if not backed up by sincerity and the basic tenet of honesty. Incidental to this was the mild sense of disbelief that the notion that something should never be said and once said, the necessary consequences must be paid, was alien to some. Just as baffling if not more so was the discovery that for some lying was Not meant to simply deceive but a necessary activity to 'allay and comfort' others while hopefully magically resolving all problems. You know you have a serious serious problem when the other half has no problems lying through his/her teeth because he genuinely thinks that's the best for you and the relationship. Bullocks.
Which kind of reminds me of that oldies song with the refrain that goes "..tell me lies tell me sweet little lies baby baby tell me lies.." Anyone in his/her right frame of mind who wants to be lied to should be sent to the asylum. I can understand the classic " do I look fat in this?" dilemma. But anything else is clearly unacceptable. At the end of the day, I've come to realize that it is ESSENTIAL that you be on the same page with your partner on the fundamental issues which to me includes trust and honesty. It may not be SUFFICIENT to keep a relationship going but it is essential. A splendid house built on sand collapses sooner or later. And I wish I could say ours was splendid. It was great at the good times, a semi-d at serangoon gardens perhaps. Certainly not a nassim road mansion. But that's life and the experiences are not something I regret. As David often stoically puts it, cest la vie.
Enjoying life with friends and doing the things I've always enjoyed is a refreshing change and I would say I've been able to move on relatively quickly. Even chatting with an affable dude I'd lost touch with since last year but taking things slow. The goal may be the destination but the fun's all in the journey:)
In other news been ktving quite a fair bit thanks to you know who you peeps are(hugggz) and trying ( but failing haha) to brush up on my Chinese for the cheena songs in the process. Current FOTM( flavor of the month:)) include songs by the hottie Andy hui and Faye Wong :) Haven't neglected the English hits though, current favorite on repeat on the playlist is raunchy Rihanna's S&M. Fantastic MTV to boot haha Rihanna is my goddess...right after Gaga :)
"I may be bad but I'm perfectly good at it. Sex in the air, I dont care I like the smell of it. Stick and stones may break my bones but chains and whips excite me. " ;)
And no I'm not into S&M but I loveeee this song! Nananana come on!;)
And so a year comes to an end. It's been a rollercoaster ride of sorts. Domestic life isn't all bliss, it has its up and downs. Laughs and exasperated sighs. The thing about staying together really is that you're practically in each other's face the entire week, which is where the compromise and the need to communicate come in handy. Some might not be as good as communicating as others but its still necessary to avoid misunderstandings.
And yes personal space is still important. We live together, we love each other, well hopefully, but we still need our space. Even if we compromise on other things. But no one touches my WoW, for now. hahahaha. Anyway New Year's around the corner. The usual new beginnings, new resolutions hopefully not to be broken within the first couple of weeks or so. Lol.
Ironically, the loved one may not be spending New Year's Eve with me but sick people have to rest. In the meantime, I think tonight should be enjoyable. And did I mention how bloody enjoyable WoW is? I cannot tell you how glad I was to sex/Race change Errath, a boring, beefy old man to Sepharael, a nubile, lilthe night elf. Even if the racials aren't fantastic but visual is v important to me now. Got tired of staring at an old man's ass for what, almost 3 years (excluding the hiatus from WoW)? Now chant with me, Lvl 85, lvl 85! hahaha.
Anyway, for what it's worth, happy new year y'all. Enjoy the time with friends, family and loved ones. Not necessarily in that order. And yes if you need to, have that New Year bonk. Things are so much better when you're semi ineberiated and with a loved one/ favourite sex buddy isn't it?
Settled down. It's been a tempestuous couple of weeks. Generally on that continuing high, the mundane aspect of chores and settling various household necessities not detracting from that high. On the contrary, it's become an enjoyable routine of sorts, the sense of ownership ironically present now where it was once lacking. Even the occasional visits to and interactions with the Family have changed slightly. Less abrasive though no less naggy replete with the usual bigoted narrow minded ravings about homosexuality & low income neighbourhoods. But whatever.
These few months, I've come to appreciate the value and camaraderie of true friendships, unpretentious and sincere warmth, the sincerity and desire to aid without the sarcasm, 2-faced backbiting and self-serving manipulations. Reviving old friendships and forging new ones. Promulgating dissension in a divide and control strategy might be a good strategy for subjugating your enemies. It certainly has no place in friendships.
In other news, the KTV bug is still going strong. Hur hur. We have an extensive repertoire now. Doubt they were quite expecting the gospel-ish 'Swing Low Sweet Chariot' Hahaha. Finally found that song by Sandy Lam, which reminds me, I should get round to finding Sandy Lam's delicious recipe for Fried Freshwater Prawns. I'll probably get her 'My Shanghai' cookbook too. Yummms.
Packing has become relatively less painful. Mainly because I decided to skip the hassle of packing toiletries and what not into impossibly finicky plastic bottles that are hard to fill and harder to keep from leaking. Damn things have a knack of leaking their contents at the most inopportune moments. Rather pay the extra $20 bucks. So the overnight bag looks a little like a stuffed chirozo now but that's fine since it's being checked in.
Actually, I'm rather pleased with the size of the bag considering my penchant for lugging along disproportionately large luggage for short holidays. Still, some quirks just won't change. like doing everything else but focusing on packing and always leaving something out after I think I'm done. The object of choice this time, the lube. As far as short holidays go, this Phuket trip will be a good break. To get away from work and all the nonsense.
On a wholly unrelated note, I've finally found that song I've been searching for these past couple of months ever since I heard the song again on gold 90fm after all these years. (20?- Seriously old haha) If you haven't already guessed by now, it's Expose's- Your Baby Never Looked Good in Blue.
I always thought it was My Baby never looks good with you. Haha. But there you have it, when you're 8 and you hear a nice song on the radio , sometimes you don't always catch the lyrics correctly. Oxymoron I know. But well that's the way I was. Now excuse me while I set this song on replay on the iphone. The perfect don't-break-up-with-me song lol.
Expose - Your Baby Never Looked Good in Blue
You should hear what they're sayin' about you You should see the way they talk behind my back They say that you've found another and that you're gonna leave But you wouldn't do that to me . . . So
Say it ain't true The things that they've been saying They say that you've found Someone new But don't break my heart (don't break my heart) Cos your baby never looked good in blue Your baby never looked good in blue
In the morning, staring into your eyes Your eyes look everywhere Everywhere but mine (everywhere but mine) And darlin' I've got a feeling that the tears are gonna start And losing you would tear my world apart So . . .
Say it ain't true The things that they've been saying They say that you've found Someone new But don't break my heart (don't break my heart) Cos your baby never looked good in blue Your baby never looked good in blue
Tell me you still love me Show me you're still mine Don't tell me there's somebody new Cos you don't wanna see your baby cry
Ooh, ooh, ooh No, no, no, no, no
Say it ain't true The things that they've been saying They say that you've found Someone new But don't break my heart (don't break my heart) Cos your baby never looked good in blue Your baby never looked good in blue
Your baby never looked good in blue (No, baby) Your baby never looked good in blue (Don't make me blue) Your baby never looked good in blue (Your baby) Your baby never looked good in blue (Never looked good in blue) Your baby never looked good in blue (No, no, no)
I've never viewed Batam as an 'acceptable' holiday destination. I guess the preconceived perceptions of the place being a seedy rundown place frequented by old Singaporean ah peks to visit prostitutes in crummy hovels along with the occasional newspaper report of men maintaining mistresses there didn't help. Other than the fact that the best keropok (fried crackers) is to be found in Batam, Batam really didn't have much going for it. Or so I thought.
The past two days haven't been too bad though. Lots of eating, lazing around with cheap spa treatments and the daily swim. Batam's still filthy (though less so than Hanoi) and there's really not much to do besides eating and buying keropok (unless you like cheap t shirts). Then when you get tired, come back for a swim or pamper yourself at the spa. Prices are usually significantly cheaper than Singapore.
On the downside there's the occasional chance for bedbugs (horror of horrors), being accousted to sit 'taxi' (minor irritant though), the difficulty in communication 'Saya tidak bercakap Melayu' (more irritiating), blatant demands for tips (ok la guess that's the culture though) and did I mention bedbugs?? But ok all in all, it wasn't too bad at all. A good break. I'd say two nights is just nice.
I didn't buy keropok though. Sunning it before frying sounds like too much of a hassle lol.
I've never liked to wash dirty linen in public. While the act of bitching and ranting used to (and may on occasion be) a cathartic release, I've come to the realization that as the years go by, it's often better to forgive and forget. To learn, accept and observe. Then react as the situation calls for it. However since you've rejected all reasonable attempts at communication and closed all avenues of communication, I shall state my position here and the facts supported by incontrovertible evidence. I have no doubt you'll read it. You always do and by your admission, the ability to know more about others while disclosing as little information about yourself is highly attractive.
So let me recount the ways you astound me albeit unpleasantly.
First was the salvo fired without warning or any prior indication last Wednesday. Shortly before BBall. The allegation? Big mouth. Ok fine, we've always had that perception in the now fractured Gang that I liked to share information (which has i suppose always been a trait since I share stuff freely too, we're friends after all or so I thought). Some say too freely. I admit I was a little miffed at first but that was eons ago and I soon came to accept the concept that people's perception of an individual is not something easily changed. If I'm fine with it and have a clear conscience, so be it, I can live with that.
So that was fine. I have been for the longest time. So alright, the allegation, big mouth. I asked, very nicely for particulars. A simple request, what was it I allegedly said and to who so that I could explain and apologise where necessary. In your usual brusque manner when pissed, you said forget it. Added another salvo along the lines that I should think sometimes before I say but knowing me it's difficult. Then inexplicably, adamantly refused to give more particulars. I repeated the same a second time to no avail.
Even a criminal needs to know what he's charged with before he can opt to claim trial or plead guilty. Particulars of a charge must be given especially when you fire the first salvo. Let alone for friends. But no, none was forthcoming. I even explained that I felt 'gaowei' (ie: very uncomfortable) if you refused to even say what the alleged offending disclosure was because I'd always feel it's unresolved. On a big picture perspective, it was worrying because If friends are angry with each other and annoyed, the very least they can do is to talk it through if the issue is a real problem.
If it's just a minor infraction that causes annoyance, we usually just overlook it or put it down to the idiosyncrasies of the person. However if you blast the person and obviously feel it's a big issue, you address it. You give details and expect a solution. Not just fire a salvo and arbitrarily decide that you've 'settled' it without any communication with the person and leave him/her reeling from the bizarreness of it all. So if this cannot be resolved what is to stop a similar situation from happening in the future? And that in turn calls into question the strength of the friendship or perhaps its very existence.
Yet, I still went for Bball even though you conveniently compartmentalised it as exercise (sorry it's a social activity to me and until this crazy ridiculous issue is resolved (if ever) don't bother even asking me for bball) because I'd already promised to go And a friend was coming along.
Cue: Day 2. We had a meeting scheduled the next morning. We'd discussed about the matter, preliminary issues, deposit required and things to take note of before the meeting. So I emailed you the next morning, to ascertain whether you would be attending the meeting. Because personal issues aside, work is work. You've said so yourself and I presumed it true. You said No. I replied to say Ok, I'll attend the meeting and update you then. Then the shocker: No, what I meant was I'll attend the meeting myself. You don't need to waste your time. Just pass me the file.
Don't waste my time? Since when was that ever a valid consideration for not attending meetings? There's no way round it. Like it or not that was a stark dismissal. So much for the dichotomy. I tried to engage again. 'Is it about yesterday? Because I really think we should talk about it. But will pass you the file' To which I was rewarded with a curt 'Just pass me the file. Thanks.' In the kind of 'go and die' manner with Thanks added as a sarcastic afterthought.
At the pain of sounding like a dumped ex, I reiterated the need to talk and that I should at least know what the disclosure was even if he wanted to protect the identity of the person, so that I could explain and apologise where necessary. A two paragraph email. Dismissed in 3 lines: No need. I know what to do. Thanks.
Thanks?? You may know what to do but I don't. Because I sure as hell felt/feel damn uncomfortable. You do not fire a salvo, leave it hanging, refuse to even give particulars of the offending incident, act all weird at work (I don't care about the taking back of the file really, just so much for the dichotomy) and arbitrarily decide that you have resolved the issue when you don't even communicate at all. If you decide to resolve it on your own, you shouldnt even have raised the issue in the first place.
So because I was uncomfortable ( and I explicitly told you at least twice) I kept all social activities including but not limited to lunch to a minimum until you felt like talking about it. I just put it down to the fact that you were annoyed and might have needed sometime to cool off. Though it did bug me that if you could send long lengthy emails to another friend whom you declared you were 'unfriend-ing' to explain your position, why was it the case you couldn't even bother to tell me what it was that I allegedly disclosed which you found so offensive. But whatever.
So I was uncomfortable and avoided contact. I was puzzled and genuinely bewildered because till today I have no idea what it was that pissed you off. I WAS NOT ANGRY. What was just as puzzling if not more so was the inexplicable fact that a female colleague, a new addition to the grp I guess, suddenly started ignoring me. Even a simple Hi, was greeted with sullen stares and a frosty face that would freeze a polar bear. It was perplexing and unpleasant. My discomfort was only with you. This inexplicable attitude on her part was (and still is) a mystery. I can only hope that you had no hand in it. Even a casual email to the said frosty female enquiring if anything was wrong was rewarded with deafening silence. Not even the courtesy of a reply.
Imagine my shock, utter bewilderment, disappointment when I was informed that 'actually the two of them (you and frosty female) were not angry with me at all. They just thought I have a big mouth. And because of that I am angry. But they will just leave me be' Like HELLO? How much further from the truth can that be? I am seriously at a loss of words. Do you genuinely believe what you foreseeably knew what would be relayed to me? OR was it another half past six attempt at glossing things over. LEt's go through the utter ludicrosity of it all.
1. YOU were pissed. For sure. Wednesday evening all the way till Thursday morning. If you tell me you were not pissed, you know jolly well that's a blatant lie. Sure you may have somehow decided that you aren't pissed NOW. I don't know. But you were pissed THEN. I wasn't angry. I was confused and felt very uncomfortable after you rejected all my attempts to communicate and apologise. Social activities were (and still are) reduced to a minimum.
2.Me being pissed at the big mouth issue is such a retarded reason for the reasons mentioned above. IF I was pissed for that (which I was not and am not) I would have been pissed EONS ago when you and the gang raised it and have stayed pissed. I didn't. Don't drag AA into the picture because then my only unhappiness with her was for the 'trust' issue not LL. But you see the thing about AA and I is that unlike our altercations, we end up being able to communicate and resolve it. Arbitrary decisions is not the way to go for a friendship. Being friends isn't supposed to be a court room battle with the occasional verbal ripostes and parries to see who gets the upper hand.
3. How the fuck did Frosty Female ever get the impression I was angry with her? Like I said my discomfort was with you and you alone. I was fine with Frosty, fine with the Mad one, fine with AA, fine with everyone else. To be visibly snubbed and treated to the occasional glacial face by FF when I had (and still have) no fucking idea how I wronged her is perplexing and not very pleasant.
4. Please this was never a case of me being pissed over some prissy thing just to make me look like a stuck up pompous bitch. I may be a bitch at times but all in good clean fun and never with malice or to tear a person down, much less a friend. Let's frame the situation correctly shall we? I allegedly said something. You got pissed. You fired the first salvo. You refused to say what it is despite my repeated attempts (at least 3) to ask you to tell me so that I could explain and apologise even at the pain of sounding like an utter desperado simply because I thought we were good friends. Or does my gender not even warrant me the courtesy of a proper reply?
FF then ignores me for no reason. Next thing I know everyone's zen, I'm just pissed because they've called me a big mouth (I presume FF's name calling was at a different time from your MSN message) and they won't back down. But because I'm pissed they're leaving me alone for now. Seriously, how warped is that?
I would usually say blogging helps to exorcise the demons within, to release the venom on the metaphorical paper, to bleach it beyond recognition. But this isn't one of those cases. There is no venom to expel, no demons to exorcise. I'm just astounded (unpleasantly), flabbergasted. By the surrealness of it all, the duplicity of natures, the inexplicability of an unexplained situation. The volatility of the eruption, the brittleness of the relationship, the dearth of direct communication. It's sad to think something you would have stood by might not have been there to begin with.
So maybe I should quote a line from Frosty Female's correspondence before she froze, "I don't know what game the two of you are playing, but I don't appreciate being dragged in." I don't know what game this is but I'm not playing. Or as Sister Hazel put it, "You were the one... Who taught me what I don't need And I thank you-I thank you for that. You were the one...That brought me to my senses And I thank you- Now just leave me alone"
Coughing like a heavy smoker. The hacking debilitating kind of cough that keeps you up all night. Then get greeted by the news that Onemanga, arguably one of the most popular online reading will be following in the footsteps of Mangatoshokan and removing all its manga by next week. WTF. There's always other ways of obtaining one's fix of manga, true.
Though if the current trend of publishers pressurizing scanlation groups and manga sites to shut down continues, it'll become more and more difficult to do so in the future. RIP Onemanga.
It's been a while since I last wrote. As in really writin. Not short, vacuous observations of recent events or random ejaculatory musings. I just haven't seen the need to write or felt the urge to do so. I guess it doesn't really help that these days have been packed chock-a-block with activities, work and the propensity to agree to various impromptu arrangements.
It's certainly been an expensive, alcohol-fuelled, sex-driven couple of months. Well, perhaps less of the latter for now haha. If anything, I think certain activities temper the inclination to blog. Gaming, in all its pervasive mind-numbing allure and its seemingly innocuous ability to fritter away the hours in the blink of an eye is one such activity.
Not all such activities are equally 'distracting' (if the reduction of the urge to blog can be called a distraction that is). Take sex for example. An extremely pleasant distraction for almost any other activity (depending on the partner). Yet pleasant as it may be, it hardly has the power to distract so absolutely, so long, compared to say gaming or mahjong. Ironically, I have oft found that sex (both good and bad.. unfortunately)can greatly stimulate the creative juices or more.
Certainly, not all activities are as cheap. The recent spate of clubbing on consecutive nights highly enjoyable but imposing a hefty burden on the already none too healthy finances. And let's not even start on shopping. Though I must say the recent clubbing spree, inspired in no small part by the urge to dance to great music and the company of like-minded friends, has provided the opportunity for great entertainment as well as a good workout.
And when I say entertainment, I'm not referring to the joys of grooving to fantastic beats or booze. It's the entertainment provided by others around you, all in various stages of intoxication. Like someone barfing on some unfortunate girl replete with horrified, hysterical shrieks, drunken displays of amor or lust and the absolute fluidity & show-womanship of drags with their favourite Gaga songs. If you think I have 'no'bones' (as certain individuals from the Gang call it), you haven't seen one of them sisters.
It certainly helps that the spate of clubbing seems to have induced an uncanny sense of clarity when clubbing, an effect which persists (thankfully) after the lights come on despite the copious amounts of booze consumed. Certainly a pleasant change from previous occasions where the night becomes a blurry alcoholic haze and you awake in various stages of undress in different corners of your room with only a vague, patchy recollection of the night's events. I have yet to wake up in a strange bed beside a strange dude. And hopefully that'll never happen. haha.
I've always said that variety is the spice of life. A convenient mantra to wield, embellish and embrace as one sees fit. I should add that spontaneity and the ability to make and agree to plans made on the fly can be exhilarating indeed. But that's quite a mouthful so I'll just say if variety is the spice of life, spontaneity is its sauce. Not that I don't like my made-in-advance plans, I do. But sometimes like they say, its good to have some gravy on the side. Like now. Lol.
I seldom blog twice a day. Not out of habit or due to some idiosyncratic principle. I'm just too lazy. But this is an exception, fuelled in no small part by the fact that the modem was fried by the recent thunderstorm which means I'm stuck with a 500kbps internet tethered connection over my iphone. Meaning I can do precious little (ie: no downloading, gaming, etc) Wouldn't even let me access Auction Sniper for fucks sake.
The subject of this entry is an innocuous article I stumbled upon while googling a wholly unrelated phrase 'what does it mean when my watch is hard to wind'. With the title 'my farts smell really bad' and a website called poop report, it sounded like an aunt aggy forum/ helpline for the offensively flatulent. Something like your average litany of embarrassing health problems that hapless souls often relate in your average women's/ men's magazine. Only presumably more embarrassing. In other words mortifying if you're the person with the ailment, amusing if you're the spectator reading about the problem.
The brief synopsis found in most google searches was the clincher that made clicking on the link, the natural thing to do. (I.e :' if I fart in the car,it takes about 2 days for the smell to go away. ... For I am destined to spread the unhallowed wind of raw sewage until I expire. ...')
The mainarticle was serious enough (read: not very entertaining), a desperate plea by 'Smellyass' who can't even stand the smell of his/her own farts for advice and help. However, it was the farcical, unabashedly shameless comments to the article (scroll down) left by people that left me in stitches, laughing so hard till I cried.
These are obnoxious, brash sods with flatulence noxious enough to clear the room in seconds and peel paint, yet they have no qualms about reveling in their odorous abilities and depict their smelly escapades to devastating effect. In a tongue-in-cheek perversion of sorts, a decidedly major social handicap is trumpeted as a major virtue with manifold benefits. Take this hilariously, shameless anecdote by the aptly named 'Chief Thunderbutt':
I picked the user name ChiefThunderbutt because my flatulance is the stuff legends are made of. I was told by a friend when in the Air Force, "If you were an indian your name would be Thunder Butt."
I take pride in my farts and love the really stinky ones the best. I enjoy them even more when I am able to share them with others.
I have shared them through devious means a few times. I was once expelled from the control tower cab in which I worked because of my gas. The watch supervisor sent me down to the latrine and told me not to return until I had taken a shit. I continued down one more level to the room that contained the air conditioner, I climbed into a chair and farted into the air return vent. The crew was huddled around the vents in the tower cab getting fresh air. It made me very happy when I heard their voices coming down through the vent, "God damn, it smells worse over here."
Stinky butt,you have been blessed with a great gift. Learn to enjoy it'
Another person after adroitly noting that the person in question (Smellyass) must have really smelly farts if he couldn't even stand the smell of his own farts, remarked that eye-watering flatulence was useful to have in situations like 'when you're standing in a long line at a store or bank, or when you have guests at your house that you wish would just go home.'
Spent 20 minutes reading all the comments and almost died laughing. Pretty sure the abs got a good work out in the process and no, I didn't fart. Good to know some people can still make the best use of their stinky situation. That's one league I'm happy staying out of.
Though for the loud, proud and happy gasers amongst us, Chief Thunderbutt has a tip or two:
'For the most wonderful smelling of all possible farts you must eat "gyoza",
small meat dumplings (your choice of flesh) with lots of cabbage, garlic and onion. These little gems can be steamed but are much better pan fried. They are dipped in a mixture of soy sauce, sesame oil, rice vinegar and chili pepper. They should be washed down with prodigious quantities of beer.
The farts that ooze from your anus several hours later will be hot and rancid. Those who are around you will be highly entertained.'
Good lord, now I know why Y. is so hung up about paos smelling like Fart. LOL.
Life is like cruising on the expressway. Sometimes we speed up, go on auto cruise, putter along at 40km/h or streak down the highway of our life like there’s a dozen cars on your tail. I like variety in my pace of life, too slow it becomes an absolute bore, too constant you get too complacent and dull, too fast you risk crashing and burning. Which although it sounds dangerously cool, is about as exciting as a lunatic with a death wish. Not.
Flirtation is no different. Sometimes its slow, mysterious and titillating. Sometimes its shamelessly brazen. Sometimes it’s unapologetically corny and a dizzying sprint from rest to go. Such as the one with L:
L: Ok I’m booking the tickets le. Where do you want to sit? Middle or backside?
Aelg: haha I didnt know cinema got backside lol. up to you. back side, rightside left side also can. As long as not outside.
L: Ahaha lol inside can ah?
Aelg: yeah at the backside.
Luke: inside, backside ah?
Aelg: I think that will be quite hard in the cinema but backside is good. L: hahaha ok booked. Backside me?
Love is but a moment, cherish it. Lust is but a release, acknowledge it. Loyalty is but a possibility, accept it. Lies are but fallacies, abandon them.
Oh what tangled webs we weave, when first we learn to deceive.
Somethings never really change. Lunch while simple, was highly enjoyable. After all, with friends, it's all about the company isn't it?
Seasons change, people change. Though as is often the case in relationships or friendships, sometimes people don't change, it's about discovering the person for who he or she truly is. Their ideals, principles, attitude towards friends and life in general, the person's core. For better or for worse, time and closer interaction with the person (almost always because you're interested to know the person better as a friend or in the case of a lover, your companion) inevitably reveals the core of the person.
And sometimes it's not pretty, certainly not what we expected. Because like it or not, we often either consciously or subconsciously impose our own pre-conceived ideas of a person's character on that person and attribute reasons for his/her conduct based on our perception of that person; even if we profess to accept the person for who he/she really is. We assume that a person would behave in a certain manner perhaps even remotely rationally (now surely that's not too much to ask) based on our pre-conceived notions, observations and general experience interacting with other human beings.
The problem may be summed up thus: we presume based (mostly) on rational observations when in reality sometimes we are unaware of the true nature of the person in question. The person's core self so as to speak. And when we discover it, it can either be a pleasant surprise or a rude jarring shock.
Humans are not perfect. No one is. A perfect world with perfect people all doing objectively perfectly acceptable things, pleasant though it may sound, would be a fucking boring place. Even fucking may be a civil affair. So naturally friends (like yourself) are imperfect. There will always be things about friends that annoy you. Little idiosyncrasies or habits which irk and irritate but things which we are of course able to accept and overlook as part of the entire package known as your friend. You might hate the habits or quirks but you still like them as friends. God knows you're no bloody angel yourself.
There are however certain fundamentals issues or principles you live by, tenets of your interaction with friends and loved ones that are central to your very existence. These principles and beliefs are so fundamental that you will brook no breach of them and a person whose ideas/principles run counter to the same principles is someone you can never be closer to than on an acquaintance level. Not quite anathema though I guess for certain people, certain principles are so deeply cherished that a person who falls afoul of them may be dead for all they care.
I'm talking about general universal principles such as loyalty, trust, etc. You get my drift. Though these principles will invariably vary from individual to individual. I'm a man of few principles (haha much too tiring to keep track of) and I think individuals with a load of principles are no more principled (pun fully intended) than individuals who happen to be more scrupulous with their principles.
So one of my principles is I'd expect a friend, a close one especially, to be consistent. And when I mean consistent, I mean be consistent in your treatment towards other people based on their conduct/character and your friends in particular. Also please be rational. Naturally, it's fine to be emo sometimes, to be under the weather or what not. Like I said we aren't saints. You would certainly however expect more consistency from a close friend and the unspoken understanding that you don't treat that friend based solely on your mood especially when your fucking mood/reaction has absolutely fucking nothing to do with that friend.
That presumes the person is rational in his/her thought processes, can articulate his/her reasons for their conduct and express logical explanations for his/her quirky beliefs. A presumption that sometimes, it appears, is to much to expect or even hope for. There is always a limit to how much communication can do. And when communication fails, all there's left is arrivederci.
Just talking about this just pisses me off. Sometimes, the problem isn't about others or how you perceive others to jettison you simply because of your falling out with another. To reach such a conclusion speaks volumes of your regard and perception of the person who 'jettisoned' you. Superficial & threadbare. Perhaps it's time to take a good look at yourself and realise that most people appreciate some consistency in treatment in a friendship. Certainly not being subjected to the mercurial mood swings for vacuous matters unknown even to yourself that somehow gets redirected to your clueless friends.
It's always sad when a close friendship which you really valued turns out to be vacuous and devoid of amity. But I've said it before. I have no time for the insolent, the inconsistent and the consistently mad. Life's short enough as it is. Like I told a friend, once (the first time something serious happens) I close one eye, twice I close two eyes, thrice you go and die. And once you're dead to me, you'll always be.
No this isn't an epithet (tho it may be under other circumstances) or a bitch fest rant against some imbecile. Rather, it's one of those random thoughts that come to mind unbidden while doing random things like checking the status of the remaining auctions on eBay or taking a leak. Toilet intellect at its finest. It isn't rocket science but it sure as hell is entertaining.
I'm literally talking about noisy.. fuckers. You know the ones who make lots of noise when they fuck. We all know sex is (supposed to be) an enjoyable affair. That, along with the feeling of intimacy one derives from fucking (hopefully someone special) are about the main reasons why people fuck when pro-creating is the last thing on their mind. Alright, sometimes sex is abysmal. That can't be helped, some people just have to suck. Luck of the draw.
So yes I guess one of the corollaries about sex being enjoyable is that the participants (ie: the fuckers) usually feel a need to express their satisfaction cum pleasure while fucking which is done visually (hence the orgasmic look) and orally through various sounds ranging from pants, incoherent grunts, whispered mushy words or porno commentaries.
Which like I said is understandable. After all, no one wants to feel like he's fucking or being fucked by a guy with a dead pan expression and to whom surrendering to ecstatic throes of passion entails measured grunts. There's a word for people who dig sex like that and that's called necrophilia. Though I can hardly imagine what sex with a zombie would be like or called. The concept already sounding like a grotesque cross between a b grade 'Dawn of the dead' like horror film and a cheap porno flick where the director ran out of ideas.
So yes, I guess some noise (of the correct sort) is desirable in the man who fucks you. What I find an absolute turn off are noisy fuckers who engage in porno spiel, the kind you'd find in cheesy porn flicks with plots less substantial than the skimpy thongs the male AV stars wear. Stuff like "Want that big XXXX [prized part of the human anatomy] in your [add description] hot hole?" "Yeah I know you want it baby, [insert desired activity] this big [more anatomy]." You get my drift. The kind of corny conversation/ noise that detracts from the action.
I've always liked my porn without plot, because trust me porn with no plot is better than clutzy porno speak porn. Porn is watched for a purpose, you get off and that's that. If I want plot and wit, I'd catch a movie or sitcom. Porno speak belongs in the realm of the useless afflictions like shrink wrapped plastic and boiled carrots.
I can never understand guys/fuckers (in all senses of the word haha) who engage in porno speak during foreplay, much less when fucking. It's noisy, an utter turn off and an apt portrayal of a vapid mind. I don't need any stimulation that can't be provided physically with the mouth, hands and glorious cock all working in tandem to an explosive crescendo. Sex is hardly intellectual and even if intellectual stimulation during sex was the order of the day (which it will never be), I'd rather write sonnets or compose poems while fucking/being fucked.
So really, if you're one of those clueless fuckers who engages in porno speak while fucking with the mistaken notion that your vacuous commentaries about stuffing various parts of anatomy into other parts of the human body is sending your partner into seventh heaven; do the hapless fuckee a favour. Shut up and fuck. Because that's really what he/she wants you to do. And he'll love you all the more for it.
I've always had a love-hate relationship with boybands and their songs. Love the songs because they're so singable and easy to relate to, kind of like a convenient pick-me-up. Hate them because they're so cheesy, emoish and more often than not, when one listens to them at a point of time when you feel you can relate to the song(s), you end up feeling worse than before. There is some innate quality in the said songs that fuels emo-ness when it's least wanted.
Giant was playing a whole slew of Westlife hits. I can only imagine some aunty must have control over the music system for the night. Not the usual kind of piped in radio music you'd hear at NTUC but still I guess I've heard worse (i.e Richard Clayderman at the now defunct (in Singapore) Yaohan). Apart from the occasional song played over radio, it's been years since I last listened to Westlife.
And this particular song just got stuck in my head. Not entirely apt because I've never (since then) been in love but pretty indicative of the general mood otherwise. Can't eat your cake and have it. Can't go cold turkey and expect gravy on the side. Can't preach peace and expect it to follow. Quid pro quo.
Fool again- Westlife
Baby, I know the story, I've seen the picture, it's written all over your face Tell me, what's the secret that you've been hiding? And who's gonna take my place? I should have seen it coming, I should have read the signs Anyway, I guess it's over
Chorus: Can't believe that I'm a fool again I thought this love would never end, how was I to know? You never told me Can't believe that I'm a fool again, and I who thought you were my friend, how was I to know? You never told me
Baby, you should've called me, when you were lonely, when you needed me to be there Sadly, you never gave me too many chances to show you how much I care Ooh, should have seen it coming, I should have read the signs Anyway, I guess it's over
Chorus
About the pain and the tears Ooh, If I could, I would, turn back the time Ooh yeah I should have seen it coming I should have read the signs Anyway, I guess it's over
Gotta buck up on my jap. Stumped by last week's worksheet. Which is not a good sign.
Friends who feel I'm very risque usually haven't met my other friends or T. and S. in particular. These are friends who wouldn't think twice bout cracking jokes about various parts of the human anatomy or discussing sex and personal grooming over coffee as nonchalantly as if you were discussing the weather. Their logic being it's part of what we do and who we are and since sex is good and we like it, why shouldn't we talk about it anymore than straight men rave about football and boobs? Logic which I can hardly fault and actually agree with haha. Though it'd be considerably more moderated on my end which might ensue in exchanges like:
Random Risque Friend : " Eh, why so serious?" me: "Am I? I can't always be talking about sex can I?" Friend: "Why not? You love it, what's not to like talking about it?" me: "Perhaps because I haven't been getting any lately?" Friend: "Get moving la. Waiting for prince charming is it?" me: "Crazy"
So yes, though it may be hard for some to believe, I am tame in comparison to some of my other friends. But I digress. An outing with the risque duo is always noisy, raunchy and never dull. We'd gotten acquainted (at different times) through the usual smorgasbord of internet chat rooms and gay forums back in the hedonistic days of our youth. Though they might dispute the latter, if only because they're just as hedonistic now as they were then. Lol.
As the years went by (god sounding like an old foggy now), we met up a lot less, each leading our separate lives with T. being based in HK these days and S. always flitting across the globe on one of his numerous assignments. We still take the time to arrange meet ups when everyone is in town and available, few and far between though those occasions may be. For you know what they say, boyfriends change like the season but good friends are forever. Though I suspect that's only because apart from the fact that one would be more inclined to overlook certain characteristics in a friend that may be unacceptable in a partner, you're nearly never around good friends enough to get sick of them or otherwise haha.
So it was when we finally arranged to meet on Saturday at Olio Dome, the 'warm' welcome was an indicator of the sort of heart-warming rubbish I've always associated and come to expect from the risque duo.
T: " My goodness, so thin now! Starving yourself to feed the hungry in Africa is it?" me: "Just because you're fat doesn't mean I'm thin eh. haha." T: "Wah still as bitchy as ever" S: "Ya how can anyhow say people starve? Probably too much sex la, he looks positively radiant." me: " Sex your head la, just came from facial." T: " Why everytime just facial only? Do the whole works man."
You get the idea. Dinner at Olio Dome was an animated affair with the usual banter and loud expostulations that probably traumatised the family at the table behind us. We even got a lesson on auto-ejaculation (and mild indigestion from choking on my lamb shank) when T whipped out his Iphone and proceeded to show us a bizarre Xtube video of some buff hairless (read - boyzilian) gym ape spasming violently while grunting away before cumming without any stimulation whatsoever to his dick.
I've heard of auto-erotic asphyxiation and bottoms ejaculating while being screwed by particularly skilled tops but auto ejaculation through no stimulation other than vibrating like a human dildo to the beat of your grunts was something entirely new and bizarre. "Perhaps he has a dildo stuck right up his ass," S mused. "Must be a bloody monster of a dildo to make him vibrate like that." I replied. "See that's why I tell you it's always better to be a top. At least you always get off in them." T interjected. "Ya and I pity your bottoms, they wouldn't even know you're in them" came S's rejoinder. Which predictably evicted a spirited tirade from T before it was cut short by a rather disturbed looking waitress who came to clear our plates.
Life would be so dull without friends with whom one can interact freely and unabashedly. Which is why I always take a dim view of uptight peeps who can't laugh at themselves but have no qualms laughing at others. Worse still are those who revel in perpetual negativity or self pity and rely on that very warped outlook to justify their shortcomings. But with friends of the former (positive) variety, one never tires being with them. And despite the frequency (or lack thereof) of meet ups, the camaraderie remains. I'll look forward to the next time we meet, whenever that may be.
Ever since I stumbled upon Citizen's Calibre 8700 Model 8000-54L while surfing the net last Saturday, I've been more than a little obsessed with watches and finding out what makes em tick. Which is quite inexplicable because for the longest time ever, my attitude towards timepieces has always been if it keeps decent time and looks good, I couldn't care less what went on behind the dial of a watch let alone the subtle differences between the various movements for automatic watches.
Citizen Bl8000-54l Eco-drive.
And in the span of a week, I probably know more about watches than I ever did these past 27 years, thanks to the hours spent trawling the net and googling for specifications & terminologies. Not that I'm an expert at any rate mind you but at least now I can tell the difference from an automatic and a kinetic and the higher the bps (beats per second) of a movement, the more accurately the watch keeps time.
Perhaps the thing that really kept me going was the realization that apart from keeping time (which boring digital watches can do), carefully crafted time pieces could be works of art too. That and a new found appreciation for analogue watches with various functions like perpetual calendars & minute repeaters as well as the unsurpassed beauty of mechanical watches. The wonder one obtains from peering into a mechanical watch and seeing the little gears tick.
While it did seem ironic (initially at least) to be whiling away the hours reading up about watches that keep impeccable time, I wouldn't say it was a waste of time. Got the aforesaid Citizen watch from Amazon (should have checked ebay first pity..), finally got round to setting up my ebay account, ebayed dad's present and sussed out some great deals for the next couple of watches I intend to get. As to which I intend to get first, it's a toss up between the Seiko Premier Automatic SPB001 and the Seiko Premier Kinetic Direct Drive SRH009P1. It'll probably be the former. Even though the most accurate and high end automatic movement will never be as accurate as a quartz, there is a beauty in a carefully crafted automatic that no quartz, exquisite or otherwise can ever replicate.
Now just take a look at that baby. That'd be worth all the lunches sacrificed for it haha.
Front of Seiko Premier Automatic SBP001
Sapphire Crystal back with engraved rotor & gold balance wheel.
True enough, a glimpse of the previous post is sufficient to cause me cringe. Not that I regret posting it. It served its purpose, which was to exorcise the inner turmoil within. Although it would have undoubtedly taken a longer time if not for friends. If there's something I can be thankful for, it's for the friends I have. Friends who I can trust and rely on, well at least those that are still friends. For those of you who have listened, commiserated, cajoled, consoled and/or kept me company, thanks.
Life's a funny thing. Like I remarked to one of the said friends, how ironic that he was trying to cheer me up with the exact same words that I said to him just a few days earlier to cheer him up. To which he replied ," Yeah. Life's a funny thing." Indeed.
Hard to believe Chinese New Year is a little under a month away. As usual, the festive mood is non-existent though I suspect I'll probably feel more festive in a couple more weeks when the perfunctory CNY shopping and rounds of lunches & dinners commence. The 'ang moh' New Year has passed though and with it came the de rigeur resolutions. Achievable resolutions which I intend to keep. Hopefully. One of last year's resolutions: Being a gym bunny lasted till say October last year? That's a good 8 months for someone who hates weights (and still does).
All three are ongoing right now, learning Japanese, managing my spending and finances and staying fit while keeping to a cool 60kg. ^^ If there's one resolution I fear I won't keep, it's probably the managing the finances part, which really isn't an option if i intend to move out and get my own place. There seems to be an inside joke amongst some friends who are betting I'll either 1. Drop out of jap classes after 1 month or 2. Fail the requisite exam at the end of the elementary course in June. The more generous ones say I'll fail. I'm absolutely heartened by their faith in me. lol.
Perhaps on hindsight, I was a little ambitious when I opted for the 5.5 months intensive elementary course which translates into semiweekly weekday evening classes that span 2 hours per class. I was aiming to finish both the elementary and intermediate classes in 1 year instead of the usual 2 (the advanced classes though are only available on a weekly basis). Well I still am. We'll see how things go. In the meantime, it's been a long while since I've been so studious haha. Though I finally managed to memorise the 50 hiragana characters and the 25 variants for this week's test. Sensei will be so proud. haha.
I realise I haven't talked bout the Japan trip yet. I'll probably do so in a later post or something. Suffice to say, Japan was sooo good. Worth saving up a year just to return the following year. Which is what I'll probably do. After all while the G-rated trip was great (in spite of 2 weeks with the family which can be tiring), I think an X rated trip with booze to boot would be much better. Lol.
And for the naysayers who think the jap learning craze is just a fad inspired by a japophile tendency after returning from Japan. It isn't. It's a life skill. I mean how can understanding anime, manga and jap porn be a fad? haha
