I'm somewhere in Singapore. Alive and kicking.
Having fun and stuffing my face.
Will update when I have time.
Big thank you to Bobo for the text greeting!
The chicken rice I have been raving about? Lee Fun Nam Kee Restaurant, Toa Payoh. Lorong 4, Block 94.
I'm extending my stay.
It's been a good time in Singapore. Having been out and with my friends most of my stay so far means I haven't been able to update my blog. I'm back at my sister's place now and now that her internet's back up, I can put something down.
I was reminded of an incident some years back when I was still in Australia. At the post wedding dinner, a friend wasn't very good with crab and would send pieces flying every now and then. It when a piece rebounded off her face that I was reminded of the story. Two things triggered it. One, she's Australian and two, crabs.
Of course this story has nothing to do with her. She's just a memory trigger.
It was when I was living in Australia and had subleased the second bedroom in the apartment out to an Aussie girl.
Who is a Total Slut. In the classic way. Not fussy just needs to get fucked. In case you're wondering, I never did her. And the story I'm going to tell you will tell you why I could supress the primal urge to pork.
I woke up one morning to the strong smell of kerosene wafting in clouds in the apartment. I found the source of the smell. It was the flatmate. She had washed her hair with kerosene. If I had lit a cigarette in the apartment, the whole place would have blown up. Naturally I enquired to the purpose of her dousing herself with a highly flammable liquid.
Lice, she said. Okay, maybe lice is embarassing enough but later I found out that the lice she had was Phthirius pubis, literally 'pubic louse' (from Greek φθειρ : louse).
She had crabs.
Fucking hell.
I dunno who she had been bonking but then again none of us could ever keep track anyway. He couldn't have been very clean so at least it was no one I knew.
I did get a front row seat once when two of my friends had her but that's another story. Maybe I should have told them about the crabs.
Nah.
Right. I'm off to Singapore.
Bought Singaporean Dollars yesterday. Staggered backwards a little but bit the bullet and handed my hard earned money over.
Not going shopping as yesterday I bought myself new footy shoes.
This time was smart enough to enable auto-roam but happily I bought a SIM card last year over in Singapore. SMS me if you like. This number only gets used once or twice a year. 8209 2122.
Dinner in Toa Payoh tonight! Chicken rice!
It's 1am. I've been watching the live coverage of the lastest golf major, the Open Championship, on TV.
I've been willing Padraig Harrington to win. I just saw him tee off from the 18th and put it in the water. It actually was running on a bridge over the water before it fell in.
I ejaculated, "Paddy, you bitch!" and turned off the TV and now I am going to bed.
I wonder who won....
Monday 11am
Just read on the net that Paddy double bogied the 18th but Sergio could only bogey the 18th and Paddy won the resulting playoff. Well done Paddy. The Irish eyes are smiling.
Ya know, I think I'll be able to make it to Singapore next week.
The number of times I've been to Singapore can still be counted on the fingers on one hand.
Here are the things I like about Singapore:
1. Cheap footy gear. I bought shin guards and keeper gloves (Queens Way?) on my last visit. It's becoming increasingly difficult in KL to find shinnies I like. Full size with ankle guards attached. If I have the time I may go just to buy a new pair. And I will definitely buy new footy shoes too.
2. Babes. Singapore has a lot of beautiful people. Well, as far as I know. I only ogle women.
3. Transport. I have no idea about the geography of Singapore. Put on the street, I'd get lost and die of thirst and starvation somewhere far from where I need to go. But it's beautiful. I get on the feeder bus from my sister's place, end up at a train station and hop on the train to get where I need to go.
4. Good food. The advantage of having friends and family in Singapore is that they know where to eat. And I've not been disappointed at all.
5. Free accomodation. Thanks sis!
Here I come?
Tribute to my buddy Kev and his cohorts, Tiong and Chaister.
I wish I had advertising like this.
You Only Live Once
Had a long, slow and deep trawl of various golf product and review sites on the internet some days back.
If I had a bag wishlist, this would be it. (In brackets: What I'm using now)
Driver : Cleveland Golf HiBore XL
(Burrows Golf Powersphere M.A.C. 421)
Fairway Wood : Cleveland Golf HiBore Fairway 19 degrees
(Burrows Golf Powersphere M.A.C. 3 Wood)
Hybrid : Cleveland Golf HiBore Hybrid 22 degrees
(Dunlop LoCo 24 degree Hybrid)
Irons : Cleveland Golf CG Gold
(Cleveland Golf CG4)
Wedges : Burrows Golf M.A.C. Tour Bounce 56 and 60 degrees
(Burrows Golf M.A.C. Tour Bounce 56 and 60 degrees)
Putter : Burrows Golf ION III
(Burrows Golf ION II)
It's a shame Burrows Golf went bust. They made very very good clubs. I love their products and what they made, I bought. I have the driver, fairway wood, 2 wedges, a putter and 3 caps. At the Malaysian Open, when Thomas Bjorn teed off into the oil palms I yelled at him - from the safety of (1.) the other side of the fairway, (2.) on a hill and (3.) in a big crowd - that he shouldn't have stopped using Burrows Golf products. You don't wanna fuck with a big, irate, belligerent bastard like Thomas Bjorn, trust me. But yes, he was formerly one of Burrows Golf's touring pros.
That's my dream bag, what's yours?
Stop. This post might upset the sensible.
It is not cheerful.
It is not happy bunny having tea time on the toadstools with the fairies.
It is my dark side speaking today.
Every decade or so the moral police go out on a witch hunt for a specific type of crime or situation. While I can agree with the idea and the intent behind the action, I've also noticed how everything else fades into the background and the one biggest weapon the moral police use is public sympathy, reaction and hysteria.
The most common one now almost always involves children. Save the children! Protect the children! A sure fire way to get heaps of cash fast is to provide statistics on how many children have died, die per day and will have died. Just like when the rest of the world was pouring money into Africa during the famine times which of course were caused by the wars in Africa. A lot of this money ended up being used to purchase more weapons and a lot went into the African bigwigs' pockets. "Here's money! Feed your people!", big countries who were happy they weren't African said. "Tank yoo masa, tank yoo masa!" said the African bigwigs who went away grinning happily to themselves. Quite a few million richer. And please note that they spoke English quite well too.
A definite way to sway public opinion is to use children. Doesn't have to be many, can be just one. A person arrested for a crime against a child is seriously walking a tightrope and long presumed guilty first. Mainly because the general public (spurred on by the media and self appointed champions) want a scapegoat and they want blood. Even in a prison system, prisoners who have committed crimes against children are targeted and shunned by other prisoners. Which makes murdering, raping, assaulting and maiming young adult, adults and the elderly a lot more acceptable I guess.
It's the perception that children don't know any better (lack of situational experience and teaching) and are unable to protect themselves (lack of size and strength obviously, small kids can't stand up to big kids, big kids can't even match up to an adult). That's what it is. And it's for the most part, quite accurate.
Why we react so badly to child crimes is the inborn caveman mammalian instinct to protect and preserve the young ones. That's what love is also. The ability to is not a wonderful human exclusive right but rather a reward based system built into the more intelligent beings to create bonds for the purpose of procreation and to protect the products of procreation. Similarly, procreation itself has its own reward and motivational system of the orgasm.
It's supposed to be a really really simple thing. It takes the highest form of intelligence to pervert such rewards. Admit it, human beings are a pretty fucked up species.
And while we're at it, while researchers are examining animal populations and coming up with the famous predator/prey ratio, human beings are multiplying at an overwhelming rate and straining resources. All that infomercial you see on Nat Geo about the Earth essentially being an island is pretty much true. In a bunch of years to come, we will not have expended nor exhausted Earth's resources, rather we will hit a plateau where the Earth cannot cope with the demands placed on its natural resources. That's when we then exhaust what's left.
In a couple of hundred years (or less), faced with extinction, will there be policies such as euthanasia of disabled or retarded births, regulated procreation or licensed birthing rights subject to genetic approval, be the norm? When such practices will elicit utmost horror at this present time, it may be all that's left to ensure the human race survives. The alternative? Wage war and destroy the smaller nations to lighten the burden on resources. I'm glad that I'll be long gone before the Earth is really in trouble as opposed to the mere bruising it's getting now. Forget the science fiction of colonising other habitable planets. Unless an new all encompasing type of physics is discovered, it's not going to happen. Not to mention we'll have to destroy the colonised planet's sapient beings in order to take it over.
These, in my opinion, are the world's biggest criminals. POLITICIANS, HATE MONGERS, IRRESPONSIBLE PARENTS, and the GULLIBLE. POLITICIANS especially. Necessary evil? Evil being the key word from my point of view.
Back to it, if anyone ever causes harm to my children, I will personally cut off their ears and force feed it to them. In the meantime, all I can do is bring them up to be good people and to educate them on the perils of life. If I protect them and hide the realities of life from them all I can, they will grow up inadequate to the challenges their lives will throw at them.
This is a dark post, I know.... I think I'll go back to pretending everything is alright now.
Thank you for you time. Now forget what you just read.
Hand written notes.
Yer gonna get a cap in yo ass for eatin' the wrong burrito! And I thought burrito was an affectionate name, in Spanish, for a donkey.
Dwyer apparently is a passive man. Or Sean's much bigger than Dwyer. If this had happened to me I'd have cracked Sean on the bonce and then some. And I wouldn't have waited either.
You draw your own conclusions....
Them bastards do it for a high flying lifestyle.
No kidding.
I had a glimpse of a footballer's life some years back when the company I was working for organised an inter-company football competition. I slotted in as a defensive midfielder, instead of my usual position of defender, which should give my current footy teammates something to chuckle about.
I was part of the Subang Jaya warehouse team since my department was located there. The game was played in Klang and the Subang team was the best supported. I was very impressed and very appreciative that a lot of the warehouse staff turned up. A lot of them were foreign labour, many of them from Nepal and India. They chartered two buses and headed over to Klang.
I wore number 8 for the competition. I had a shirt number! Wooooo! I grew up in a house which had the number 8 so there was some significance.
There were 3 group stage games. We lost the first, drew the second and absolutely had to win the last one. The team we were playing against in the third and crucial game only needed to draw to progress. If we won then we would move on at their expense. First half was difficult and still 0-0. The were just trying to shut us out.... and succeeding. I remember that by then I had drifted out to the right wing cos the proper right winger was always missing. Once, I got the ball and was bumped off it and I went sliding face first in a big ass puddle. It had poured the night before and this was a typical Malaysian football field. I got up spitting water, dirt and grass out of my mouth! It was worse in front of the goals. It was a nowt but a mud sea.
Anyway, in the second half I beat the offside rule by running in diagonally onto a long ball from defense. There was one guy chasing me and nothing else in front of me except the goalkeeper. That's when, in the background, I could hear the crowd start up.
As I charged forward I wasn't thinking about the crowd just that I had to score but I have to admit hearing the roar from the spectators spurred me on. I was closing on the edge of the penalty box and I saw the keeper starting off his line. The guy chasing me had to do something and I launched himself into a tackle. By then I think I was just inside the penalty box. Just before he tackled me though, I pulled the trigger and everything went into slow motion.
Everything went quiet. Very quiet.
I saw the ball leave my foot and then I got hit from behind and I fell backwards. As I was going down I saw the goalkeeper's despairing attempt to save the shot and the last thing I saw before I hit the ground was the ball hitting the back of the net.
Everything erupted.
There couldn't have been more than 200 people there and only about 50-60 were from the warehouse but the noise I remember will stay with me forever. It felt so damn good. Being mobbed by my teammates and I really didn't know how to celebrate the goal. We won 2-0 in the end and we finished the competition in 3rd. The semi, I might add was a close thing, 2-1.
I of course got mobbed after the decisive 3rd group stage game. I got back to the stands and was hoisted up on shoulders and people were cheering and jumping. It was a blast although I was really hoping they wouldn't drop me! They didn't of course. On Monday, some of the accounts staff had no voice left from all the screaming. I heard later that when I scored the company director who was in charge of the warehouse jumped to his feet, yelled a bit and cheered. He then topped it off with a big ass grin at his brother who is the Managing Director of the company. The biggest Malaysian owned retail firm in the country, I might add.
It was brilliant.
Some pro footballers do this week in week out for millions in front of tens of thousands of people. I did for one day's pay and an experience I will always cherish.
I'd have done it for free.
I've been in contact with someone in Germany for work related stuff over a fortnight or so, corresponding through email. I had thought that der Germans I had been schpeaking with schpoken der gud Engerlander. I think in the end what it was is that the person I had been emailing either had a translator or BCC'ed the email to schomeone who don't schpoken the Engerlander. Probably the boss.
I got this in the email:
"Ich bin vom 16.07. bis 06.08. nicht im Hause. Ihre mails werden in meiner Abwesenheit an Frau Barbara Brust weitergeleitet, Tel. 0049(961) xx xxxx.
Mit freundlichen Grüßen"
For fun and laughter I put it through Babelfish's translator. I got this:
"I am from 16.07. to 06.08. not in the house. Their mails are passed on in my absence at Mrs. Barbara Chest, Tel. 0049(961) xx xxxx.
Yours sincerely,"
Babelfish is so renowned for amusing translations that it's already an internet meme. It's kinda like listening to a Mexican dude fresh across the border without a passport who's trying to convince a cop that his passport está en el país and he can't produce it anyway because el perro lo comió. As funny and as famous as Yoda Speak.
I know for a fact that the proper translation of the german bits of my email is this:
"I'm out of the office from 16 July to 6 August. Your mails will be passed on to my collegue Barbara Brust, Tel. 0049 961 xx xxxx.
Kind regards,"
I wonder what it would be to go through like being called Salmah Buahdada, Monique Seins, Britney Boobs or Jessica Tits. Because that's what tits are in der deutsch. Brüste. I'll put it in bold it as well. Brüste. Why? Cos I absolutely love the upper ventral region of a female human being's upper torso. I should write back double schnell and tell them I'd like to get acquainted with Mrs. Barbara's deutschlander brüsties. Why should just my emails have all the fun?
Making fun of der Germans is so English. Well, not really. If I'd been English I'd be taking the piss out of zee french as well. What it is, is a little yellow man taking the piss out of the whities. Maybe that's why we're yellow. We've been pissed on by the white dudes since the French have had prostitutes. And that mon amis, is a loooong ass time.
On a separate note, I think I've been reading too many books from the Dune series by Frank Herbert. In a meeting I asked for confirmation that in Europe, they actually shut down offices and factories to go off on summer holidays. Kinda like summer school break. Hello? What I'm trying to tell you people is that ve need to Achtung Baby! I know about der summer holidays. Ve don't have any more fucking time to get things done especially if we're relying on people over in Europe to move things along as well. Ve need to fucking schnell! schnell!! schnell!!! Of course no one got it. Everyone Sing! Aaaaalllll is caaaaaaalm!!!! Aaaaalllll is briiiiiightttt!!!! I must be the only Dune reader in the room. Look for hidden meanings and messages people! It can't get any clearer than a hidden message!
But nooooo.... Everyone's going la la laa.... la la laa.... we're going to fuck up and when we fuck up, we're all going to blame YOU! HAHAHAHA!!!! Which is why I wasn't given neither employment papers nor a contract. So they don't have to fire me. They can just tell me to pack up my stupid little laptop and my stupid little Tigger coffee cup and fuck off.
Well, not really. I'm just slagging off anyone and everyone because I can, that's all. A little artistic license.
Europeans must really like their summer holidays. You won't find any factories shutting down over here in Asia for any season. Well, maybe the monsoon season, if it rains hard enough to flood the factories. Anyway, whatever. If we shut down for holidays over here, the Americanos wouldn't get their Nikes would they?
Damn. All I needed was a good night sleep. More bounce per ounce! Hoo hoo hoo hooooo!
A few things have been bugging me lately in relation to this blog. The first is that I hadn't been updating my blog anything like the frequency which I used to. The second is that when I did post new material, it seemed like the brainless space-filler stuff. The third and the one that bugged me the most is that it appears that I've lost my blogger edge and creativity.
Gone. No more. Screwed. Au revoir. Nada. Nothing. Koyak. Auf Wiedersehen baby!
Hasta la vista?
Quite a few times I clicked on 'New Post' and just sat staring at the blank field wondering what to do about it. I absolutely love it when my fingers can't keep up with the output when my mind and feelings are in full flow. As I've said before, written words are my liberation. Recently, after a few minutes staring at the screen, I end up clicking on the little red X in the top right corner to kill the window. I had nothing.
And I have no idea why.
Kinda like now. I'm missing something. I don't know what it is.
Uh.... D-uh....
I got this gem of a thing separately from two of my favourite bloggers, Nick and Bobo.
Got it weeks ago and I just sat on it since when I'm supposed to award it out myself. It's like a blog tagging. I didn't at the time for a number of reasons, some of them quite selfish of course.
I was very pleased to get this from two bloggers whose own blogs I enjoy very much. In the very first post of Brain Spillage I had written something along the lines of 'If I have, through my writings, been the catalyst of an emotion, thought and or opinion, bad or good, I will be pleased.' I somehow would like to believe that Nick and Bobo thought I actually deserved the accolade of a thinking blogger award.
I didn't want to award it back out straight away for a number of reasons.
I didn't want to dilute the award further at the time. A pure 100% selfish reason of course. Silly if you think about it since it's theoretically growing exponentially every time it's awarded. Another reason is that I would have given it straight back to Nick and to Bobo. I didn't want it to seem like I was giving them the award just because they had given it to me. Though if you were familiar with their blogs, you'd agree that they do indeed deserve it.
Another reason is that I was a little thrown by how Nick and Bobo described me (through my blog). It made me realise that the personality I imply through my blog is not quite close to what I am really like. The foundation is there but the reality of it is that my personality is quite the opposite. In person I am really quiet, reserved, self conscious and lacking in confidence. Written words free my inhibitions. I write a lot better than I can express myself speaking. So naturally, blogworld is the natural environment for my thoughts, feelings and expressions.
I been a bit blank recently. Which is why I've been having a blog slump.
I would award the Thinking Blogger Award to the following bloggers:
1. Nick Phillips - Which is strange only in the sense that why I started reading his blog was a picture of a scissors drawn by a child which looked like a penis. Uh, the drawing, not the child. Since that one picture I have become a fan of his blog. I like the way he writes and expresses himself. It's very human. I've also watched as his blog grew and increased in popularity. And deservedly so, I'd say.
2. Bobo - Unusual in the sense that the blog is written entirely in the third person. Kinda like the Jimmy character in a Seinfeld episode. She writes well and what I also like about Bobo's blog is the unpredictability factor. I never know what she's going to write about next.
3. Barbsie Loaded - Thinks too much and doesn't think enough. Will make YOU think. She'll think the award is ironic and I'll probably get my testicles squeezed for this.
4. Little*Wonder.Net - Brenda's only 20 but apparently already left her teenage years far behind. I very much like the way she writes specifically that Spelling Check has nothing on her.
5. AwesomeZara - The definition of candor.
I know my descriptions are lacking and for the want of a better effort so I do apologise to the five bloggers. I didn't think I needed to emphasize the thinking bit. That's what the award's for.
Here's a little known fact. Perhaps not so much not widely known but more on the lines of - I can't believe you (of all people) can do this, know how to do this and have done this.
I can,
I know how to, and
I have many times,
(1.) Changed, (2.) Put on and/or removed, and; (3.) Properly disposed of: Diapers.
Single and never married I might be. But the water of the River of Life's Experiences just keeps on flowing under my bridge.
Naturally me being me, I call a disposable diaper, a 'loaf' (despite it actually looking like a slice) and hit the kid on the head with it before the enloafing.
However! I've had to - but will never get used to - change shitty diapers. I'll only do it if there is absolutely no choice and no one else!
Yeh, I know I've been neglecting the blog. I just hadn't had any earth shattering revelations of late. Rather than subject readers to more pictures from someone else's website without anything to read I sat on my fingers and henceforth no posts for a bunch of days.
It's no different. I don't really have the writing juices going still. Blog slump I think.
I did have a good weekend though. Went to the golf sale. Finally bought a new cap to replace my wrecked old one. You'd be amazed what sun and sweat can do to a cap over a year considering I only wear it when I play golf. I also had time with my little family. I went to see my buddy Joe play with his band at the Ol' Skool Bistro. That was cool. I really enjoyed the show. Had beer after beer and went through two police blocks which mercifully were on the other side of the road from where I was going. Joe and I even re-enacted an old tradition where we sat down somewhere public with a Ramly burger and a fizzy drink and talked shop. That was Saturday.
I slept in on Sunday. It was great. Played my footy which is the highlight of my Sundays. I think I could be one of the few guys who actually tell new girlfriends that first and foremost - I play footy on certain days and nothing will stop me from doing so. That said, the non-footy bits of Sunday was good too.
Monday - here I am back at work where my iPod keeps me sane. I'm waiting for Wednesday. I play footy Wednesday.
It's been a long time since someone took me out on company expense. It's one of the drawbacks of working for yourself i.e. it doesn't happen. I've been treated to meals (and damn good ones too) in my capacity as a Property Manager but it's not the same as employees of a company taking me, as the employee of another company, out on expense.
I can understand building good will but it doesn't stop me from feeling it's all a bit unnecessary. It felt a bit more like a bribe. And I had to shake off a bit of guilt. We went to the most expensive place near my office. For those of you who'd know - corner, air-conditioned, seems to cater to the company expense type lunch. And it's the best meal I've ever had since starting work here. Fish, venison and veg. Waitress standing by the table waiting on us.
That's worth the guilt I'm sure.
Slowly. But slowly. It's nearly 3pm. I ran out of cigarettes last night.
I wonder how bad the cravings can get.
This is not an attempt to quit. This is drawing it out.
If I can stop or severely reduce smoking at the habitual and ritual times.
1. Waking up.
2. After meals.
3. Stuck in a jam.
4. After footy.
5. Every few holes on the golf course.
6. At the clubs.
7. Being around friends smokin'.
8. Blogging about smoking.
9. Before going to sleep.
It will signify at least a hint of discipline.
Then I can quit. Right now I shall alleviate withdrawal cravings.
