Of boobs and butts.

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.

Soundbite.

Things have been moving along at breakneck speed these past couple of weeks. Some not as fast as I would have liked, others a blazing blur of activities and snappy (but thought out) decisions. Being able to get a breather, sit back and reflect is a pleasant change.

Got round to doing Lasik at long last. Haha all in one day in fact. I figured it'd be a nice fresh, almost celebratory start to a new era. A hasty yet well planned decision (all 10 mins of it) taken after receiving the excellent check up results. No unwelcome gifts from that creep of a toad.

An end to all that mind boggling drama and ridiculous antics from the psychotic creep. It felt like a very prolonged and painful version of the Bad Sex episode, just more ridiculous. The kind of drama and rubbish you see in your average chinese/ korean drama. I never in my wildest nightmares imagined that I'd be stuck in one. Who would have known anyone could be that unstable, that delusional and criminal minded for so long? I probably sent him to jail. But I have no regrets, he was unrepentant and psychotic to the very end.

Unfortunately, a couple of friends also broke up during this period of time and my heart (or what's left of it that I can spare) goes out to them. Thankfully, their breakups were nowhere as drama-filled or ridiculous as mine. Good things happened too, a dear friend finally got attached at long last, grats jjulesz babe. :P

For now, just gonna focus on the things which matter to me. Enjoy the company of friends, do the things I like and yes, live life like I love it.

"If I said I want your body now
Would you hold it against me

Cause you feel like paradise
And I need a vacation tonight
So if I said I want your body now
Would you hold it against me.."

Thankful

The past few months have seen so many changes, a marked departure from the status quo.

Of new friends and new experiences. The joys of quiet camaraderie, simple activities that are nonetheless enjoyable if not because of the company. The revival of old friendships and some not so old ones, but for all of whom, some much needed catching up. The spontaneity of actions, the heights of reactions, some wild but never dull.

The depths of disappointment, the fracturing of erstwhile strong bonds which on hindsight might not have been more substantial than dross. The confirmation that a couple of bonds and at least one in particular was nothing more than sanctimonious lip service. Hollow and fake. Though my instinct for that particular bitch was always right.

The tumultuous changes. Of love considered, contemplated then rejected for the simple reason that it was lacking. The ability to passively meet past loves and feel nothing more than genuine amicability and the quiet comfort one would feel with a close friend.

For all these changes and more, a bumpy ride at times but interesting and no less enjoyable by virtue of the company; I am thankful. Well I could do with a little more passion, more steamy trysts, but I'm still thankful. :)

Intermezzo

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.

Random Ramblings 10: Unexpected Encounter

Bumped into an ex-BMT mate this morning at the taxi stand while headed home after the impromptu clubbing session. Well, maybe bumping is the wrong word, he never recognized me and I nearly didn't place his face till I'd gotten a full view of his face. By that time, he was getting into the cab and it was too late.

I've forgotten his name, it could be Julian, Jack, Jason or Timothy, I'll need to try dig up my old BMT photo. I'd remember a face anytime though. Especially the face of a person I've been intimate with (unless the said person is sooo forgettable), an unexpected corollary of a very visual person, the quirky workings of the human mind.

He was assisting an APNN, arms around the APNN's waist, smiling and offering words of encouragement as he guided him into the cab, before heading into the next himself. He looked the same, short punky hair with a couple of spiky ear studs and casual gothic like dressing. Call him! B. exclaimed when I uttered a cry of recognition. I did, waving at him while his name and consequently, words, escaped me. But it was too late, he was already in the cab by then, oblivious to the motions of a stranger at the edge of his peripheral vision.

It was really that look on his face, that strange, bemused, caring and almost tender look that made me take a second look at what appeared to be a quirky stranger assisting an unlikely APNN companion and place the face. The same quirky look he gave when describing how he was constantly picked up by men at bars and clubs even though he was attached, the same look when musing how he was probably bi, the same look he gave when our lips touched...and more.

He always had that cool, laid-back fucker air about him though he was anything but. It's hardly appropriate or fruitful to search for that ghastly BMT picture at this (relatively) unearthly hour on a Wednesday morning and I doubt I'd find it anyway. Perhaps the refrain from James Blunt's 'You're Beautiful' expresses it best :

"You're beautiful. You're beautiful.
You're beautiful, it's true.
I saw your face in a crowded place...
But it's time to face the truth,
I will never be with you."

Got into the cab and heard J. Jackson crooning "Like a moth to the flame, burned by the fire. My love is blind, can't you see my desire." Which brought back a flood of none too pleasant memories. God, I hate that song. Now, just 4 hours to crash and I'll get round to identifying Mr 'laid-back' fucker. Eventually.

Farcical Humor

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 main article 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':

'ChiefThunderbutt (3375) -- 06.26.2008

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.

Random Ramblings 9 : That's the Way it is.

Inspiration's a funny thing. When you're inspired, you feel exuberant, empowered and the creative juices flow abundantly, seemingly ceaselessly. Then, when like the fickle mistress she is, Inspiration flees, you're left apathetic and feeling drier than the Sahara. Suspended in a state of blah.

I've been singularly uninspired these past few weeks. I can't tell whether it's the drudgery of work, the ongoing fascination with eBay or the lack of stimulating company (and no don't bother reading anything into this because chances are, it's probably not what you think it is). Probably a bit of everything. Different factors which build up to form a debilitating malaise of sort. The kind that makes you do the mental equivalent of a glassy eyed stare with drool leaking out from the slightly down-turned corner of your mouth.

Still, there's no cure, no automatic stimulant to evoke inspiration and rouse one from the mental stupor induced by the utter lack of inspiration. Sometimes, all one can do is to wait until that fickle mistress returns to your arms for another passionate sojourn before the cycle repeats itself all over again.

On an wholly unrelated note, an individual from the Gang has left for (presumably) greener pastures. A fact bemoaned by some, bewilderment by others and mild amusement by yet more. The dynamics have changed, nothing will ever be the same again! An individual in the first (though more likely second) category uttered. Of course it will, though not necessarily for the worse hahaha.

But that's the way it is. People change like the seasons. Things change. You live with it, the way it is, and adapt accordingly. And for the few who bemoan the changes, lock themselves away from the world to mourn the passing of an era, the same that make idle talk about whiling away the time as the world passes on uncaring, it's time to get over the self-pity and move on. As Dion Boucicault aptly put it, "Men talk of killing time, while time quietly kills them."

Get moving, for we are young (for now) and time is not on our side.

Kick Ass (We are Young) by Mika (On another random note, I just realised Mika looks like a leaner younger version of Jeremy Irons, yum. haha)

We are young
We are strong
We're not looking for where we belong

We're not cool
We are free
And we're running with blood on our knees

We could rule the world
On a silver platter
From the wrong to the right light
To an open stream

With a crash and burn
We could make it better
Turn it upside down
Just you and me

We are the dream
No other way
To be

We are young
We are strong
We're not looking for where we belong

We're not cool
We are free
And we're running with blood on our knees

I could change the world
I could make it better
Kick it up and down
Take a chance on me

When you fake a smile
And you think you're better
Gonna put it down
Rip it at your feet

No bridge to burn
Nowhere to turn
For me

We are young
We are strong
We're not looking for where we belong

We're not cool
We are free
And we're running with blood on our knees

What do they know about us?
Are they thinking of somebody else?
Are they wondering what we might be?
Are they thinking of you or of me?

We are young
We are strong
We're not looking for where we belong

We're not cool
We are free
And we're running with blood on our knees

Noisy Fucker.

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.

Random Ramblings 8: First...

Last night was a first for a number of things.
The first date with someone whom I was at least remotely attracted to for a long time.
The first time things progressed so far and on an impromptu basis on a first date.
The first time I'd so much booze and so little sleep the entire night cum morning.
The first time I'd seriously reconsider my position since the break up.

As Ab Fab's Patsy would say: Cheers, thanks a lot!

Random Ramblings 7: Resolutions, friends & all things Japanese.

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

Random Ramblings 6: Just Read and Shut Up.

Today is one of those days where I'm like one of the walking dead and remaining lucid and coherent required an almost 'herculean' effort. Amazing how one can proceed on auto, drafting pleadings, dispensing advice to clients during meetings while remaining conscious. Surreal because it's like you're undergoing an OOBE (out of body experience), hearing the disembodied drone of a voice before realizing with a start that it belongs to you.

The fact that blogger seems to have screwed up and I'm typing this entry in a pathetic box no larger than 6 cm x 4 cm is not helping. Most of the buttons are missing with the exception of the publish post and save now ones. While I like my entries unadulterated, I still want a certain level of functionality when I blog.

Bloody annoying. If you're expecting coherency, you should have stopped at the first line.

I cannot comprehend why people enjoy reading things when there's nothing to read, things which never existed. If there's some hidden meaning, some subtle allusion I'll acknowledge it. Heck I'll probably even tell you unless you're some dense prick.

Reading between the lines is a tiresome exercise best reserved for situations where you want to tell a person he/she is fucking retarded but can't do so due to the circumstances. So you suck it up.

Why make people read between the lines when you can say it like it is? I don't waste my time and the point gets across. So most of the time, Black is Black and White is White. It's not some charcoal tinted light grey kind of shit. Seriously. Good grief.

Labels suck. Don't go all emo on me. And friendship is not a dog treat, imparted as a favour and received with gratitude tail-a-wagging.

Not talking about a person is neither a measure of my affection or disaffection for the said person. I just haven't seen/felt a need to.

I dislike being analysed. Especially when the analysis is all wrong. Read and understand. Or not.

All these late nights are taking their toll. Time to reset the bio clock.

Random Ramblings 5: One of those days II

Today was one of those days. Just like the other though probably worse.

Woke up late for the last day of trial. Late as in Court has already started late. This time round the alarm wasn't set and the past two nights of preparations till 4 am didn't help. Thankfully Ms A. was there to hold the fort for a while.

Client/witness made a significant boo-boo on the stand. It is never pleasant to be rudely surprised by sudden disclosures at trial. It is even worse to learn of some entirely new vital piece of information from your own client when he/she is being cross examined on the stand.

My witness was a pain in the ass. An unpleasant one at that and the cross ex didn't go very well. To top it off, I lost my ring, somewhere, somehow. Wonderful.

Random Ramblings 4: Half Days.

Any free time/ time off is extremely precious when you're working. After all, save for the few of us who are gainfully self-employed, for the rest of us those free-wheeling tertiary days are over. A thing of the past. And whether you like it or not, you come to terms with it and you make the best of your free time.

Of course, what constitutes 'best' is highly subjective. I know of a couple of friends who believe that there is nothing more enjoyable and fulfilling than sleeping their weekends/free time away. Needless to say, they are reaping the 'benefits' and attendant side effects of their favourite activity. To each their own. Personally, I believe that one's weekends and free time should be spent on the various activities one enjoys, necessary errands and generally things you'd never be able to do while at work. Which, face it, is almost everything. Unless your idea of fun is work in which I have nothing to say.

I'm starting to think Half Days are a real gem (if there's no outstanding work to be rushed). I'm talking about Afternoon Half days, morning ones are a bloody waste of time and should be avoided at all costs unless you really have something to attend to.

So why Afternoon Half Days? You come in for a few hours in the morning, get the rest of the day off and get to rush about doing the necessary things, chill out, catch up with friends, all for the price of half-a-day of leave. Oh sure, you don't have the luxury of sleeping in late. But hey, you always have the option of MCs full day leaves for that.

Today's half day was packed back to back with activities and highly gratifying. First, a quick sojourn to the doctor to collect the necessary meds, followed by coffee with Kate, a long overdue visit to the dentist, followed by gym, foot reflexology then some quick shopping for essentials and a new pillow cause my old one is killing me. Or my back rather. All in all, a well spent Half Day. Nothing like sprucing up oneself to leave one recharged and refreshed for the rigours of working life.

Random Ramblings 3 - Sometimes.

Rant 1 (Open Mobs ):

I always think open mobilisations are a bloody waste of time. Why else would you summon a motley crew of NS men on a Saturday afternoon and have them lug their mostly decrepit field packs, army SBOs and helmets to a god forsaken ulu camp; just to have some officers leave a few squiggles on a crummy piece of paper and have the crumbling items in the said decrepit fieldpacks inspected?

Do you seriously think we'll use the stuff in our field packs? That crumbly long expired toothpaste, the grimy, powdery camo paint or the half rusted mess tins? Granted, every NS man's equipment might be in various stages of decay depending on the time he ORDed (or RODed) or the number of times the equipment has actually seen the light of day which is in turn dependent on the number of ICTs the said NSman has gone for.

But the powers that be think so. Which was why I ended up in my slightly tight No 4, lugging the entire shebang of army equipment, otherwise termed as FBO (full battle order)- which incidentally had not see the light of day for 6 years, halfway across the island to some bloody godforsaken ulu camp in the jungle. All the while cursing the apparent uselessness of my not-too-recently obtained PES status. And all this just to sign some stupid slip of paper.

Turns out they got my PES status wrong and I shouldn't even be in the godforsaken place and unit, which was the understanding I had when the coveted status was awarded by the Chief MO last year. Inspection of the equipment was a speedy affair, largely due to advanced state of decay of a number of items in the field pack and the poorly concealed enthusiasm of the poor NSF sergeant conducting the said inspection. The helmet links were crusted in verdigris, once-pristine ziploc bags used to store the requisite field items starting to disintegrate in a sticky mess, rust on the mess tin and a suspicious mound of green in the toiletries/powder ziploc bag that did not look like powder.

Add the splotches of brown mud/mold? on the field pack and the mixed layer of grime, dried camo and corrosive SAF insect repellent which covered almost everything and you can understand why that poor NSF sgt was so eager to finish the said inspection. Not quite a bio-hazard but certainly not very far off either. Bad enough that I spent close to 30 mins scrubbing myself down when I returned.

Then to top it off, it started to pour just as I left the camp. Which meant a 10 mins walk out in the rain while saddled with my semi decayed army stuff. And I was reminded once again of the army stench, that odour of wet uniform and sodden FBO, unlocking the latent odours of dried sweat and other unidentifiable ones merging into a pungent symphony that assails the senses. Which was just bloody great.

Rant/muse 2: Sometimes.

I'm getting very uninspired about a lot of things. I'm not sure if that's even the correct word to use. It wouldn't be correct to say I'm unmotivated about a lot of things, because if I were, I wouldn't be doing those things. Because to be unmotivated naturally presumes the lack of impetus to do that thing and the inevitable consequence that you end up not doing that thing. But I still am. Doing those things, that is.

I'm just not inspired to do a lot of things anymore. I do them almost by rote, because I know they are necessary or beneficial and so I do. But not out of any particular desire or burning need to do so. So perhaps in that sense, you could say I'm unmotivated in doing those things that I'm currently doing. The lack of zest, more like it.

Take gym for example, I'm not inspired to do it any longer but I still go for my 3 or 4 weekly sessions/classes because it's beneficial and therefore I do. Of course the fact that I've paid my PT (personal trainer) also forces one to actually gym. Maybe this whole business of dating/meeting people would be a better example.

I'm quite tired of it in fact. These numerous meet ups to get to know another person, to ascertain your 'compatibility' and mutual interest, to more often than not end up being bored to death, becomes increasingly facetious. Almost farcical. Almost.

The irony of the juxtaposition is not lost on me. I'm not unhappy being single but yet I do not wish to remain single for the rest of my life. It certainly doesn't help that the singles in my current circle of gay friends are not exactly 'bf material' or are clearly incompatible. Hence the need to meet people because unlike what a colleague so bewilderingly believes, partners do not fall from the sky and drop into your lap. If anything, for the rare few that do, that is the exception rather than the rule.

So contentedly single but not singularly happy about the prospect of remaining single for the rest of my life. Ah the irony.

Sometimes I ask myself, " So what if I never meet someone I really like, a person I'd want to get attached to?"

And a little voice replies Do you really want the answer to that?

I never reply. Some questions are best left unanswered. Some answers best remain unspoken.

Ignorance is not innocence. Ignorance may not even be bliss. But it remains a sufficient state of mind. For now.

Random Ramblings 2 - Outing

Sometimes, after a particularly long day at work or when the mind feels lazy and languid, enshrouded by the stupor of inertia; incoherency and the lack of need to write in perfect prose is a liberating luxury I often embrace. The ability to ramble without paying attention to form and format, blogging in its unadulterated form, raw and rough around the edges. It might be not be pretty or a lyrical piece of crap but you can be sure that it's a heartfelt piece of crap. It's certainly not a Brain Fuck so don't expect one.

And it's for this precise reason, those times when being gloriously incoherent and shamelessly insipid is an irresistible attraction and talking about the randomest things doesn't seem so heinous; that I've started the Random Ramblings segment. For all the random things I'll ever need/want/have to ramble about.

Outing

One of the perennial problems confronting your average gay guy at the start of his journey is 'Just how Out/open should I be?' How that gay guy responds sets the tone for his future interaction with fellow human beings, particularly the straight crowd but at times even other members of the same sexuality. And it is a question which every gay guy continues to face throughout the course of his life. The answer often changing at various stages throughout his journey till an equilibrium is reached and the person truly satisfied. Some never reach this equilibrium, some are in a permanent stasis, some remain closeted, forever in denial.

Most usually start out a little hesitant, conservative and toe the act straight look straight be straight line. None but the closest friends and their sexual partners know. But as we progress, experience more, our perceptions change, we become more comfortable with 'outing' ourselves to various groups of people, less likely to conform to the societal notion of conventionally acceptable heterosexual behaviour and interests. Some stoically refuse to change on the ground that privacy is paramount and prefer living separate lives. Others, as mentioned, for reasons best known to themselves remain closeted, confused or in denial. To each his own.

Though, I have found through personal observation and interaction that the confused, closeted and those in denial almost always never find or are able to settle down with someone whom they can call their own in a fulfilling relationship. As it is, it's already hard enough for those of us comfortable with our sexuality to find a suitable partner. Remaining single for the rest of our lives is for many a gay guy a veritable nightmare which they would never openly admit to.

While many lament the prospect and declare that they have resigned themselves to a future of singledom and eternally cold beds, just how many would be content to remain truly single? For is it not human nature to want to share your life and experiences with another? To love and be loved. And it is with great cynicism that I view declarations that relationships are immaterial and unnecessary. For they are not and such declarations only serve to expose the naivety of the person making such statements.

I do not know about you. But I find confident, open guys who are comfortable with their sexuality infinitely more attractive than confused, closeted ones who remain close and guarded.

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.

Animated Air-con Antics and assorted annecdotes.

Because in a way,this is what the entry is all about, a convenient excuse to stuff disjointed mish mash into a single entry. And cause it's a whole lot more interesting than 'Random Ramblings.' Which isn't really random to begin with; just three wholly unrelated topics. So there.

It's been a year since I cleaned out my air-conditioner filters. They're the terribly low-tech, little more than plastic sieves kind, not those new fangled silver ion, apple-wood, bacteria busting types that the one eyed monster never fails to trumpet about these days. And given that I hardly turn on the air-con (once or twice a week counts as hardly IMO), cleaning the filters was never very high up on my list of priorities. In fact, I would say it was pretty non-existent given the horrible inertia that inevitably gripped me when it was time for the weekly, utterly basic, Clean-The-Room routine.

Which could be put off for up to a month, with the numerous dust balls dancing round like dervishes, colliding to form bigger, meaner brethren. And a sojourn across the dusty wasteland that is the bedroom floor leaving one with blackened feet. Cleaning up is usually necessitated by an incessant bout of sneezing and a horrendous cold, the body's very pointed reminder that the threshold of dust tolerance has been breached. So today was one of those occasions, plus I'd put off changing the fish tank water for 5 weeks now, 6 weeks would have made that toxic cesspool a bio-hazard.

So on a whim, I decided to vacuum out the filters too and the sight that greeted me when I pulled them out was truly shocking. Even for one as accustomed to dancing dervishes dust balls at one's feet as I was. The dust or rather thickly matted grey filth on the filters looked like some malevolent alien fungi. It was so bad.. I spent a good 10 mins using the vacuum cleaner to scrub that shit out and by the time I was done the vacuum cleaner couldn't even suck up a piece of paper. Which meant my dad had the wonderfully dirty job of disposing of the old dust bag and inserting the new one. I resolve to clean the filters twice a year now. Half the filth should be manageable.

D Gray Man Episode 26 is finally out, four days after the usual release date though they can't be blamed as episode 26 starts the second part of D Gray Man with new opening (OP) and ending (ED) songs/animation. Speaking of which, the OP song really sucks and I don't think it's the kind that grows on you either. The ED song though is a whole lot better. Episode 26 sees the return of General Yeegar, that chain swinging old hippie for more swashbuckling chain-tastic fun.

"Hyaaah! Your bullets are useless!"

Seriously, there's something nice about old men swinging chains and wrecking merry destruction. Well alright, not really old men, just swinging chains and wrecking destruction. I mean you see so many hack/slash/stab super sword types it gets so boring and something new and different (not guns... they're just as bad. I make an exception for Tres the hot machine dude in Trinity Blood. Say "Positive." baby! ) is really refreshing. Something like Lena Lee's dark boots and Lavi's hammer though the old man's chains beats them all. He took out a whole cohort of level 1 akumas and 2 level 2 Akumas in a scene that looked way too easy. How cool are chains that get to split up into multiple missiles?

"Come no closer! I've got boobs..er bombs!"

Even though he looks a little weird all wrapped up in those um.. chains. But still..did I mention how cool they were? Er.. I think i did. Well enough about chains. Sadly,an Old Man in...with Chains is no match for a Girl with an Umbrella and a Man with a Top Hat. He is old after all.

Too much time in the sun.

Getting trussed up during a fight is no good.

KO!

Easter Sunday.

For some reason, all the non-christian friends kept wishing me Good Friday and Happy Easter like it's some momentous joyous occasion that I should be devoutly observing. Right, and when was the last time I went to church of my own accord eh guys? Like what 10 years ago? The only observation I've made over the weekend is that 1.) anime episodes seldom get subbed on time while you're waiting. & 2.) Alvin has siblings who wake up at 3am to download 'stuff' while we're attempting to rule the world.

In other news, my dad is up for re-election for the board of trustees on the Church board again at the upcoming AGM. Which means pretty soon I'm going to start hearing the same crap from well-meaning members of the church. "Your dad's been with the church for so long ( I guess, being a member since 1968 makes him around for longer than the senior pastor...) and serving the Lord so faithfully too! So.. when are you going to start attending cell group?" (IE: With a father like that, how come you're like this?) A plastic I-am-SO-bored smile and a vivid imagination (stab stab stab) are skills well honed from the slaughter house that is the After Church Crowd.

And to end, another precious nugget of wisdom from the pastor in an attempt at Shakespearean eloquence no doubt, " Worldly pleasures like riches of the world and sex doth not a man make."

Maybe, but it sure makes a man happy. And I can live with that.