Shopping, Sweat and Sluts.

If the Great Singapore Sale is the time when Singaporeans decide to head out and raid the malls to restock on necessities or just for some hardcore shopping therapy on account of the significant discounts/offers; the annual PC show must be the time when 75% of Singaporeans decide it's time to get a new desktop/laptop/printer/ (insert random gadget) and head on down to Suntec City Convention Halls. That's not including the geeks or tech-savvies who make their annual pilgrimage down to the jam packed exhibition halls without fail and inevitably end up with something ("oh look, a new thumbdrive!") regardless of whether they actually need it.

I never liked crowds, certainly not the kind you'd find at the PC show, where one would have to literally shove and elbow your way through the teeming mass of humanity just to reach the desired destination or flee. In terms, of PPS (People Per Shove), the layman's no brainer indicator of human density and potential stampedes, an outing at the annual PC show is only second to the horrific human jam of screaming party-goers and grope happy bangala workers that was the Millenium Countdown in '99.

Which is why I usually avoid the Show like the plague, unless
(1) I need a computer desperately (negative)
(2) Someone special (to me then) needs(ed) a computer desperately. (Check)
(3) I feel morose after having to come in to work for the third consecutive Sunday and decide to go 'see see' and grab something. (Check)

So I headed down after work at what turned out to be the worst possible time, the last two hours
before the Show ended, which meant the floor was strewn with downtrodden and crushed pamphlets, exhibitors were yelling hoarsely about the latest discounts and last minute special offers like auctioneers on crack while the crowd swelled and jostled with frantic determination.

After wandering aimlessly for some 15 mins, I eventually settled for the Samsung P2 mp3 player after toying with the idea of grabbing the Samsung I-770 pda phone which while smart looking with decent features, left me with the unshakable impression that it wasn't quite there yet, as in something better and more worthwhile would come out soon.

But more than that, it was the startled recognition of the rate at which I was burning through the hard earned moola. Not that the outflow was no longer sustainable but having run through the reserves with the various rounds of compulsory treats and substantial shopping therapy and starting on the actual salary meant it was getting uncomfortably close. Which naturally made me slightly finicky.

Settled for the Samsung P2 which on hindsight wasn't a bad decision at all. Nope, considering Samsung launched the very cool and functional Samsung Omnia and Starhub had a crazy offer which was simply too good to let up. I know I'd be cussing myself to the high heavens if I'd plonked down $700 bucks on an outdated and decidedly inferior I-770. So I had no qualms digging in a little more for the Omnia and going over to the green side. Even if it means I need to exclude Soup Spoon and the Sandwich Shop plus varied other ATAS outlets from my daily lunch menu next month.

I mean it's decidedly better to be sitting in Maxwell and using an Omnia than having lunch at Soup Spoon and trying to get the increasing erratic Sony Ericsson phone to function normally and not dissolve into a meaningless jumble of numbered alphabets. To avoid the expected torrent of abuse at my unabashed banality (Shopping therapy is not philosophy. Shopping= New Things= Happy before thinking of bills. It's banal. Face it.), I move on.

I signed up for Hot Yoga, Bikram Yoga to be exact at one of the specialised yoga studios near my workplace. After all, I hadn't been exercising regularly if at all for months and the thought of working up a sweat and burning a ton of calories while getting all *ahem* flexible was highly appealing. Now the 50 class card did cost a veritable bomb but the first three classes in that week and I felt great thereafter. Nothing like working up a good sweat.

Basically, what this hot yoga thing entails is performing yoga in a room heated to 40'c which is good cause you stretch and sweat more and can be more than a little tiring because you sweat like a pig and feel like a baked piece of meat half the time. All for a seeming eternity of 90 mins. So yes, some forms of torture like the aforesaid are actually good for you. Won't be a human pretzel for the foreseeable future but the workout is good.

Now Sluts. I'm sure everyone has heard the tired joke about the village bicycle, you know that one which everyone just loves to ride? Well love them or hate them, sluts are here to live. Hell, you may even be one too. I've been encountering a fair share lately due to the nature of my work, just not the kind or sex I might be remotely interested in taking for a ride.

From Husbands who complain about their wives and their purported infidelity ,"She's been sleeping with men!" Long pause. "Other men, I mean." (I'm glad you noticed) to Sluts who complain about other sluts and/or their husbands. "So what if I got a boyfriend, you know how many women he has in Batam??" She waves both hands for emphasis, the numerous rings clinking in disapproving tandem.

But really, I couldn't care if the client is a slut or the client's husband/wife is a slut. All that really matters is that the client, slut or otherwise, pays the bills on time, furnishes the requisite deposit and not scream about how rude my secretary is, when you woman have a seriously screwed mindset. Good lord and you wonder why I need shopping therapy.