Hear My Heart Shatter Again

“I have forgotten the things that make me happy,”

“Superfluous Angst”

OMG! OMG! OMG!

It's a must read!!! Faded Reality»



She is, in my opinion, the Goddess of English Language. And she is also my best friend. She is Kalis.

I was just talking to Hairianto the other day, and we both agreed that Kalis well deserved the A1 she got for her 'O' Levels English. It's few years back now, but still, she well deserved it.

She has to get an A. It's just nature taking it's course.

You know how when you want to improve your vocabulary you do like one-cheem-word-a-day kinda exercise? Well, Kalis' latest entry (as of now: 29 Oct 2007), can well feed your vocab-thirst for a YEAR!

And we haven't talked about grammar yet!!!

"Rise Up" by Yves Larock

I bloody love this song. Very catchy lyrics!

“My dream is to fly over the rainbow so high,”

Just this line is good enough as a favourite, I guess. It's got ‘dream’, ‘fly’, and most importantly, ‘rainbow’!

Hear My Heart Shatter

On one of my frequent trips to answer nature's call(Ghani says I got bladder problem for going so frequently), I found my jeans in the wash!

The instant, my heart shattered into a million pieces.

You should never never never never never never never never NEVER! wash your jeans!!!

I have specifically told my mother that my jeans(just 3 pairs of them) should NOT touch water, much less a trip in the wash!

My mother soaked it in SOAPY WATER some more! My coal stripe skinny just laid there drowned and bleeding...

If you absolutely HAVE to fucking wash your jeans, you should never never never never never never never never NEVER! wash your them in soapy water!!!

And if you still fucking insist on washing them, you should never never never never never never never never NEVER! wash them out! Always turn inside out first!

So my precious skinny just bled and bled and bled while I tactfully rinsed out most of the detergent. It was heart-wrenching because while rinsing out the soapiness, I witnessed more bleeding.

If your wrist got chopped away and all you can do is watch it bleed away, how would you feel? That is what I felt.

And I simply cannot be bothered to argue with my mother. It just hurts for now.

Well, being more positive, this one wash won't really kill my coal striped skinny lah, huh. But it did kill me inside though...

How to take care of denim»

Bitchy But With Integrity

I feel very strongly that something very ominous is looming ahead. Whatever it is, it will happen very soon.

And the worse thing is, I can do nothing about it. I mean, I can advise and all, but my words carry no weight whatsoever.

Things are definitely going to turn ugly. It doesn't involve me directly, but in such close proximity, I WILL BE by and large affected adversely.

And my keeping quiet about it is not going to get this message across. Of course I want to speak out. I always speak out. But as I've said, my words hold no weight. It's a fact I've more or less confirmed over numerous past experiences.

I hope this wave of negativity pass soon.

Anyways, if you realise that someone close to you got into an 'unhealthy' relationship (Thai hooker, Chinese hooker, bar hostess, stripper, transexual, homosexual, sugar daddy, etc.), what do you do?

It's no point getting all jumpy and furious over it. And the last thing you'd want to do is jump right in between and break them up. Adult matters should be settled amicably in an adult manner.

One other very tragic thing to do is to spread the word around; resulting in these people getting furious and wanting to jump in and break the couple up too. I mean, it's okay if you just confide in few close people. But at this rate, it's more like airing dirty laundry than confiding.

I ULTRA HATE IT WHEN PEOPLE AIR DIRTY LAUNDRY.

Today, a third party called me as she kaypoh-ed into the affair and updated me on the progress. Concerned, definitely, but I just feel the approach totally wrong and somewhat unethical.

Oh yes, I also fucking hate it when kaypoh people do nothing much to help, but DO A LOT to kinda just worsen the situation. I think we just naturally like to play with fire; just add oil lah, see the fire rage high up into the sky; after all the fire not burning your house what.

The third party filled me in on the details I wasn't too interested to know and then suggested that I see for myself what was going on. In short and in general, she asked me to intrude the privacy of others.

I was shocked as to how she can even suggest such an audacious act. An audacious act for me to carry out some more! How unethical is that, right?

I may be a bitch, but I'm definitely not without integrity. I simply cannot tolerate underhanded and unscrupulous methods of carrying out thiings. Furthermore, I know very well I'll get mashed up real good if my misdeed gets found out.

My life may be rather shitty at the moment, but I still intend on keeping it.

P.S. I have nothing against having 'unhealthy' relationships. Hookers, homos, transgenders, etc. are still people. Simply casting them by profession or orientation is unfair and capable only by people who are narrow-minded. I happen to loathe narrow-mindedness too.

It's Rubbish!

So it's the end of the month now. Broke beyond numbers. Dismayed beyond words.

It's precisely during the end of the month that things should look up for broke people like many of us; because it's pay cheque day!

I'm bloody dismayed today. Happily but foolishly thinking I could finally get my first hair cut in centuries. But no! Because I haven't got my fucking salary banked in yet!

Jana was like saying we should go for the Sakae sushi buffet. I suggested this coming pay day. Jana realised it was indeed nearing pay day and asked me when it would be on.

And then I realised she stumped me with her question. You see, the company got into the bad habit of banking in the pay LATE. It's not just once or twice, but many times already. I didn't really mind before, but it got more frequent and I got more broke, so now, I bloody mind the tardiness!

Bills to pay, hair to cut, things to buy; but no money. My account balance is so full of zeros you WILL NOT believe your eyes!

Then M1 sends this letter of notification, saying that they are going to increase the data usage cap to 50GB. You see, you get 5GB data bundle free, exceed the 5GB, they charge $4.28/GB in blocks of 1GB.

My previous bill came to be $60! Basic monthly of $38, plus all that I've exceeded, hence amounting to $60. Currently, the data usage cap is at 10GB. The last time, they reminded me that I've reached my 10GB maximum and would face termination of service if I were to exceed the maximum again.

So the increase of data usage cap is apparently 'in response to customer feedback'. It's true that there's nothing much you can do with the 5GB free data bundle that they provide lah, huh. Download a bit here and there easily exceed the usage limit.

Now with 50GB, can you imagine the what mindless and careless downloading can cause?!

A basic monthly subscription fee: S$38.
Additional surcharge per GB beyond free 5GB bundle(up to max. of 50GB): S$4.28.
Maximum monthly bill possible: $38 + ($4.28 x 50) = S$252

The numbers are so big, they're not even funny anymore. Once the contract ends, I'm switching service provider. I cannot be putting myself in such precarious billing situations.

Ironically, I just saw their billboard at the MRT station and thought it was fabulous! Once again, just very simple and classic execution of type. Too bad the service isn't as fabulous as the branding. In fact, M1 broadband is rubbish!

God forbid, but I swear I saw the Bitch and her gang today. All right, I DIDN'T exactly see the Bitch myself, but at least I saw the Back-up Bitch can?! Plus I saw the Boyfie's (OH MY GOD! I SO CAN'T BELIEVE I JUST USED THAT PUKE-INDUCING BITCH-COINED WORD!!!) friend.

I wanted to drop by and say hi, but I was kinda in a rush, so I'll probably save it for next time.

What a day isn't it? It's rubbish!

"Uninvited" by Freemasons feat. Bailey Tzuke

I listened to the extended version, which has a longer instrumental intro. Would you hear that beat?! Damned sexy! Then it's like juxtaposed with Bailey Tsuke's rather angelic vocals.

When I heard the intro, immediately my mind was brought to a fashion show. Haha! It's a very good 'walking' song.

P.S. Freemasons and Bailey Tzuke both from UK. I'm just drawn to UK-ish stuff lah, huh...

OMG, I So Can't Believe We Didn't Do That!

Following a message on MSN from Jana, it has come to my attention that it is the Halloween weekend.

Like me, Jana is bored at home. UNlike me, Jana HAS an invite to a Halloween party. All of which made me one BIG, SORE BITCH...

You know, if my mother wasn't so staunch against me(or my brother) staying out late, I'd pick my sorry ass up and hit the Halloween party. But as I've said earlier, vision without money is just another daydream.

Home Decor and Sewing Streak

Recently, I (possibly other people around me too) got into a home decor streak.

I'm seriously very fed up with the space at home. It's hardly functional at all, considering the fact that I have an ever expanding library, wardrobe and art supplies store. Therefore, I have loads of ideas how I can make my house into something more functional and stylish.

Most important of all, I'd love to cordone off an area for me, myself and I only. Privacy at home is very important. I still insist on griping about not having my own room. Growing mind, growing needs. What can I say?

Unfortunately, vision without action is just one big daydream, where action=MONEY. Need I say more about money?

Growing mind, growing needs, but hardly a growing bank account. If I think it this way, life really suck big time.

I dream of stripping the paint off the existing walls, do a good coat of primer, then splash on a few coats of good colour(good colour sense but not translated yet). Remove the hideous fluorescent light fixtures, fugly ceiling fans and some cheap steely towel rods in the house. Put in recess lighting so we have the hotel lobby feel and bring in spanking new designer furniture.

But what do I know about interior design and space layout?

Currently, I'm running a sewing streak too. Not that I know how to sew, either.

You know how those top fashion houses have their armies of seamstresses crafting their garments? Well, turns me on instantly...

The craft part, you idiot! Not the seamstresses! Cos they're usually just old and rotting, but with very good tailoring skills.

If I learn how to make my own clothes, then I won't have to fucking spend so much money on clothes anymore. I can reinvent cheap clothes or something. Collect scrap materials and make things outta them.

Anti-fashion yet still fashion.

I'm just very greedy. I want to be the graphic designer, fashion designer, interior designer, product designer, model, photographer, stylist, make-up artist, fine art artist AND rich fuck ALL AT ONCE.

Pfft! Talk about being ambitious!...

Singapore Trash TV

Yay! Finally something that looks like it's gonna be trashy on TV!

I love spoof comedies! By the looks of The Noose, I think we can expect something interesting and funny, and trashy, of course.



Wah lau! I love bimbos, can?! Love the big weave on Michelle Chong. She's supposed to be those jiak kentang Chinese, claiming to be from US and all, so she speaks with that weird American accent. A little irritating but we'll probably get used to it lah, huh.

Why don't they just get F**** X** to play the role? She won't even need to act or fake an accent. Oh, that's right, I forgot, she may be well-endowed in the chest department, but not so in the height department. But I still love her anyways, well, her boobs, at least...

Thank God It's Friday, But No Thanks.

So what if it's Friday? Yes, I'm listening to a bloody wicked mix of house music, but at home?! Did I mention ALONE some more?

Just touched midnight on a Friday and I'm blogging. Haha!.. Kinda pathetic...

I miss having sumptuous dinners at restaurants where I get served. I also miss just relaxing with a sheesha at Haji Lane/Arab Street where I have no worries.

Cannot help but realise that Loneliness and Independence are somehow dangerously synonymous.

Training Wheels

Thinking back, I sure had my 'training wheels' removed early. And I'm just having to wonder, too, how people typically learn how to ride a bicycle.

Is it a common experience for people to learn how to balance on a bicycle from their fathers? Brothers maybe?

'Typical' and 'common' definitely not words that I'd use to describe my life. I learnt how to ride a bicycle from my cousins.

Now that I think of it, I do spent quite a lot of time at my aunt's place when I was younger. It didn't occur to me at all up until today.

So it was along the corridor of my cousins' flat in Chai Chee that I stumbled and fumbled on a bicycle WITHOUT training wheels. Back then, owning a bicycle was kinda luxurious, one of many perks which I obviously did not enjoy. Therefore, Kex and QingHong if you reading this, you have rather luxurious lives eh!

But of course how we live our lives is, I believe, completely within our control. It's your life, so take charge of it! No point being jealous or envious of others. "To each his own,"as Kalis never fails to say (well, the old and outdated hostile Kalis, at least).

*snigger snigger snigger*

(sniggered 3 times because I cannot remember the last time I poked fun at someone and ACTUALLY enjoyed it...)

Anyways, I remember how smooth the concrete corridor was (still is, I think), and how, well, GREY(I'm beginning to discover that some preferences of mine have reference to childhood experiences. *gasps!) it was as well. It seemed like pretty safe and friendly ground to practise on, or so you think!

Lined alongside the corridor were the many potted plants of the neighbours. I remember clearly those menacing, towering cacti, and that's pretty much all I remember about the plants. Cacti! Can you imagine my fear of crashing into one of those dreadful spiked plants?!

That's why, I think, to date, I develop nausea at the thought of having something piercing through my flesh and then COMING BACK OUT. *shudders* Hence, I'm piercing-free. But that't not the point lah.

If I recall correctly as well, when my cousins were coaching me to ride a bicycle, I was the only one among them who didn't know how to balance on a bicycle. Around the same era, I think I couldn't swim too.

It must be a coincidence that I kinda learnt how to swim hanging out with my cousins too.

Our mothers used to bring us to Bedok Swimming Complex quite frequently. Then I think as time went by, I just 'upgraded' from the kids' pool to the adult pool. You know how kids used to have those fancy floats around their arms? Like those things you use to measure your blood pressure, only poofier?

Well, didn't have it too. Not a luxurious childhood, if you'd asked me. But it wasn't THAT bad after all lah, huh.

But then as we grew older, we just stopped going swimming together. Well, me at least. You know how adolescency simply makes us more self-conscious right? I will not be caught dead in a pair of trunks(yet the more 'conservative' ones are just plain UGLY). Hanging out at a swimming complex is well gay, anyways.

I believe I just forgot what the point of this entry is about. All that recollection taking its toll...

From Little Britain to Funky House Sessions

It's a little outdated, but I'm just gonna post it anyways. This is a scene from the Little Britain Live show. I just thought it was outrageous what they did onstage.

Little Britain is a sketch comedy written and performed by David Walliams and Matt Lucas.

In this scene, David Walliams performs the 'Des Kay' sketch. Just a bit of background info: Des Kay is a children's programme presenter. He's known as Wicky Woo and is a bit loopy loo. His career took a tumble when his show got taken over by his co-presenters(whose queer). So he's on a sore and jealous streak. Might be quite a queer himself.



Can you believe there are actually children in the audience as well? It must've been so much fun to be live at the show. And to be embarrassed on stage like that before hundreds of people? Gosh, it's the best.

Which happened to set me thinking, where are the local equivalents of David Walliams and Matt Lucas?

Consequently, it led me to the MrBrownShow.

The deputy director back at NYP's School of Interactive and Digital Media used to encourage us to tune in to Mr Brown's podcasts because of it's 'highly creative content'. I could agree with that, no problem.

I like funny and comedic stuff. But the satire part I'm not too sure lah. I'm not too big on current affairs and politics.

Anyways, I realised that I could subscribe to Mr Brown's podcasts on iTunes, which will subsequently update and download future podcast episodes. While doing so, I find myself tapping on a wealth of audio programmes on iTunes itself. The power of Internet (yeah, I'm pro-technology too).

Getting more in tune with house music, I discovered that there are hundreds of streams of radio stations streaming house music. And then I also discovered that there are DJs who UPLOAD podcasts of house music.

So I was furiously subscribing to all the different podcasts; it was all so bloody exciting. I've downloaded like 3 hours worth of house sessions. Haha!...

Lip The Synch

Just watching Live The Dream Finale result show, when they have a final performance from the top 10 finalists.

Just one query,

WHY ARE THEY LIP-SYNCHING???

Starting from third act, Robert Sunga, it's very obvious they are lip-synching lah! So fucking fake.

Is it because I'm watching it on TV so the dubbing is different?

Anyways, for some reason, Andrea Fonseka seemed to pale a little in comparison to Michelle Chia, who by the way totally tipped the HOTNESS scale!

It's not fair how Michelle gets to wear the prettier and hotter dresses. But then again, maybe it's just her lah, huh. For some reason she just looks ravishing for the night.

Fendi obviously wins Solo category. The name already so frou-frou already can? No doubt he looks like Shrek lah, but the voice just un-shreks everything. He got his fairytale ending after all.

And who's that Chinese guest judge ar? Some local producer or something izzit? Wah lau, the accent ar, sibeh in-the-face cheena Singaporean, know! I dunno he very action or what lah, but just comes off a little arrogant. But then wanna act brother-brother like that some more...

Feisty Pop and Blonde Hair

In her more recent video 'Handle Me', this is Robyn again.



This time, the hair longer eh? And more mod and high fashion looking. Plus you notice those brows? Thick AND dark. Exactly like mine! So if I were to get blonde bangs like her, I'll probably look something like that (the closeup of her head in the cube).

Anyways, the song is a feisty pop song, all right. Feisty is good. Just not too sure about the pop part. People still listen to pop?!

Okay lah, at least she got nice hair and nice styling can?

Love them shoes too! Very clownish feel to them.

P.S. David Copperfield cancels his show here in SG. Guess we won't see him MAKE A TAXI APPEAR after all...

For Thought

I'm just having to wonder, is it Independence, or it is it Loneliness?

More Scandinavian Goodness

'With Every Heartbeat' by Robyn, a Swedish singer songwriter.

I love the hairstyle! Makes me think of what I'd like to do with mine. I haven't got a hair cut in at least 2 months because I'm fucking broke, thank you very much.

I'm dying for long-ish hair. It's always been short and boring. Spiky hair is so overrated. I want something more 'cut'.

Robyn's hairstyle is so, well, butch, I guess. Haha!.. Just very edgy and clean. Minimalistic and simple is the way to go. Clean silhouettes are IN.

Maybe, just maybe, I would consider going BLONDE!

Anyways, her voice very the cutesy ar? It turned me off the first time, but it just kinda just grows on you. I think I heard the song once on radio, which, in all honest opinion, is a very bad thing to happen. Not that I listen to radio or anything, just that I so happen to overhear it one day.

Another Swedish treasure is Tretorn!

Love them shoes!



I saw a cool chick (She MUST be an art student too. Fashion designer, most probably.) wearing these cute wedges-like pumps or whatever you call them. It's like this whole shoe made of rubber or something. Looks very soft and comfortable.

Rubber is another very 'designer' and minimalistic material.

For Yayin's 21st birthday, I got her a Stuff bag. I got her the fuchsia red bag, which I swear was initially sold out a couple weeks before I went to get it.



Anyways, these Tretorn slip-ons are fantastic too! It features some whimsical print on the left shoe. The picture shows the one with a beetroot(I think). I remember seeing others with oysters and prawns and stuff. Very cool stuff! But I'm obviously too broke to get them.



These they call hockey boots. I just love the whole look to it. I just wished the sneaker went higher up, perhaps up to mid-shin level.

I didn't get to see this in the shops. Hopefully they bring it in and I'l consider splurging on it. Haha!...

In fact, I've been looking high and low for footwear like these:



It's Dolce&Gabbana, mind you! These runway looks strictly for reference only! So I saw these sneakers with ultra long and bulky tongues and thought it was very nice. Then I remembered seeing sneaker-boots like that in the shops.

But HELL NO. I combed most possible shops over two days and couldn't find any. Queensway Shopping Centre, Peninsula Plaza area and the Orchard strech. Nothing!

I'll get them one day...

P.S. The Stuff bag is Belgian design. Not Scandinavian.

Smoke Signals

The long previous entry was such fun! Sure it took close to 3 hours to finish it, but I thought it was all well worth the time and effort.

Towards the end of of the previous entry, say around 2.00PM, I got the shock of my life!

You see, I was sitting in the living room but with a clear view of the kitchen window. Remember how I rave on and on about the view from the kitchen window?

On a typical day, this is what it looks like:



Yesterday, however, through a flitting glance, I realised that something was amiss. There was somethiing huge, dark and ominous looming in the sky.

I initially dismissed what I saw, but decided to be curious and take a proper look out the window:





WAH! I've never seen thick black smoke this clearly before. In movies, maybe. But right before my eyes? I yelled out immediately. Black and billowing smoke just gushing up into the air.

It's the first time I understood the term 'billowing'. Folds and folds of smoke raged incessantly. For about 5 minutes, my mother and I just stood at the kitchen window gaping. My mother said she heard frequent cackling noises, but I'm not too sure if I'd heard the noises too. I was screaming in my head.

The fire engine sure took quite a long time to come. But when it did arrive, the fire was put out in a jiffy.

I'm just having to assume it was a fire since there can be no smoke without fire. I personally did not see any flames. Just lotsa smoke.





Somehow, it didn't feel too much like anybody died. In fact, it didn't look too much like it was someone's flat on fire. The smoke was so black and thick that it looked like a massive bonfire of rubber tyres, don't you think?

Somebody wanted to be sure he/she was heard.

*BREAKING NEWS* 10.48PM

My mother reading Lianhe Wanbao. Saw the article on the fire.

Just as I deduced, rubber on fire! Specifically the children's playground was set ablaze. You know how all playgrounds have that rubber-pellets-hotpressed ground padding?

The headline a bit cheesy and commercial ar. Said something like 'Nine-year-olds Witness Golden-haired Punks Throw Kerosene Bombs'. However, the photo is kick-ass!

Maybe it was a group of brainy kids playing Pretend. Then they were pretending to be stranded on a (rubber) island; first one to get help wins or something or nothing... Then the smartest of the bunch, sends a smoke signal. @_@"

No one was hurt.

The View From The Top

Yesterday was such a long day.

Somehow, I awoke abrupty at an unearthly time of 6.30AM. Yet, I felt fresh and energetic. Most probably because of a particular phone conversation the night before.

Anyways, it was a really great start of the day for me. Illustration and story-telling class scheduled at 9.00AM, so I was pretty much early. Despite being such a great day, I cannot escape the fact that I was broke AND hungry at the same time. To financially complicate thigs, I craved for the teh-peng from Ah Mei Cafe at IOI Plaza.

While I was queuing for my iced milk tea, a colossal egg sandwich caught my eye. How could I let myself go hungry on a beautiful day like that?

However, I ended up with only 3 bucks left for the day.

I brought my breakfast to the studio, to be greeted by Daniel's sarcasm. But then, of course, I was sarcastic also lah! I told him, after sitting down beside him, "Sitting beside you doesn't mean I like you,"

Haha!... On a random note, I'd really love to have at least one bitchy/sarcastic lecturer.

For class, I was supposed to submit 10 A3 drawings of the school, but none of which I've done. Neither did Daniel. I just told Suang Suang that I didn't do lor. But that Daniel came up this whole verbal essay on why he didn't manage to do the drawings.

After Suang Suang's class, we were basically free, so my project group got together to discuss our project, 'The Egg Task'. Trust me, it's very lame and it was kinda like a surprise GROUP presentation by Hidayah. I've to say, she's so far one of the fun-ner lecturers. But seriously, how bitchy can you get wearing a tudung?

So I was with three girl classmates, just talking creatively (see: talking cock), then we realised, "We're all different nationalities!"

I'm the local SG boy. I swear I'm bloody local. I don't like it when people ask for MY English name, when there's obviously NONE. I love my name as it is. "Oh, an English name is better for networking," some people say. Fuck you, I'd say.

On Wednesday, though, I heard Ida, classmate from Sweden, (MAN, I LOVE THEM SCANDINAVIAN DESIGN!) call out my name in PERFECT PRONUNCIATION. Very impressed. And proof that there is nothing difficult with my name. Some people just don't make the effort lah, huh.

But being the magnanimous person I am, I'm okay if people call me K-Y too.

Jessica is from Taiwan. Man, I love the accent! It makes me wanna speak Mandarin with the proper intonation and cadence and all. Plus she's all chatty and vocal. Well, in Mandarin at least. Maybe I can improve her English and she can improve my Chinese.

Vonny is Indonesian. Something I really just found out because I've always thought she was Vietnamese. That's why I found it strange why she don't really hang out with Jin, who's Vietnamese.

And I would assume Jin understands Mandarin, until I asked her yesterday and she said she didn't. She's just got that glowy fair complexion that misleads you into thinking she'd understand Chinese.

After our meeting dispersed, we decided to go for lunch. I was quick to stress that I was broke. No money for good food, or so I thought.

Jin left first, so Jessica, Vonny, ShenYong and I went for lunch: CHEAP, HAWKER FARE!

Fuck all the food courts! I hate food courts! Just the words food courts brings to mind the generosity of uncultured 'chefs' in flavouring their 'gourmet' dishes with MonoSodiumGlutamate. MSG sucks big time! Furthermore, food courts charge too much for way too little.

With hatred comes love. Therefore I completely love the food at Casa Bom Vento! Peranakan-European fusion cuisine. Famed for their BBQ stingray. MakanSutra featured it too. I've been there twice only so far. Both times really good.


First time at Casa Bom Vento.

Signature symptom of excessive MSG intake is the dryness in the mouth with extreme thirst. Symptoms non-existent after the mean at Casa Bom Vento. Flavourful food WITHOUT excessive MSG. Instant impression on me.

What's more, it's located along one of my favourite streets: SEAH STREET!

Back to my lunch hour, I spent only S$2 on a big bowl of meepok. Frankly, I didn't know big bowls of noodles still go at $2! I only remember 2 years back when I was in Singapore Polytechnic and one of the canteens had this fabulous noodle stall. I could get a big bowl of meepok at $2 too! But they closed down some time later.

After lunch, I went back home, grabbed my camera and drawing materials and headed back to school. I decided to be diligent for once and do the work for Suang Suang's class.

I started by taking photos of the campus. I needed to map out a route, so I ended up doing a lot of walking just around the school. Inside, I realised how much of a labyrinth the school resembled.

I found myself very drawn to the structure of the stairs because they're set at oblique angles and forever so artistically staggered.





Specifically, I'm attracted to the half spiral staircase. But I just don't understand why such an interesting feature is nestled between the IT department...

In doing this assignment, I realised that it's my first time truly exploring the campus. Back in NYP, I've never explored the campus. To date, I still have no idea where the stadium or the swimming pool is! But it's not that important anymore, is it?

I love exploration, I suppose. It's been so long since I went on one of these don't-think-just-walk trips. Will there ever be a shortage of things to discover?

I stumbled across a dark corner on one of the top floors. It looked like a torture chamber from a Quentin Tarantino film, minus all the blood and gore. Looked quite interesting, so I looked for a light switch.



No, it's not a torture chamber. It's the jewellery-making workshop. The idea of craft instantly excites me. Yet I was a little apprehensive because I'm really not too sure if I was supposed to be there.

I did a bit of wandering some more, then had a fabulous idea. I remembered once just laying on the pseudo grass patch, then seeing people walking atop the fibreglass roof. I MUST check out the roof top!





I climbed up the stairs, quite certain that the door to the roof will be locked. But decided to try my luck anyways. A very lucky day, eh??

This time round, I'm really sure I'm NOT supposed to be there. I was a little nervous amidst feeling glorious. I was half expecting security guards to charge out from the stairs. But they didn't, of course. I mean, I wasn't there for long anyways.

I also feared that I might get locked out on the roof too, so before I stepped out, I doubly made sure that the door would open both ways. Haha!...

I did a very quick survey of the surroundings. Snapped some photos nervously. The most nervous photo of all:



It was a bloody bad composited photo, but after some major cropping, I think it's still not too bad. I couldn't handle another self-timer shot. I hastily left after that. Really didn't dare to hang around longer.

But I was wearing flip-flops anyways. I NEVER wear slippers. Not to art school, at least!

Decided to do it anyways because I wanted the 'artist' look. It's the Art School Ah Pek look. Cropped pants hovering at the ankles. Damned Ah Pek right? Bloody cool siah! I was thinking, since I'm tall, I wouldn't mind having my legs 'cut' by the length of the pants right? Plus the pseudo straw hat...

One of the most fun outfits so far. I should experiment more...

So after all the photo-taking, I went down to the drawing. Combed the campus, settled on a few spots to do in situ sketching.

I was about done with my spiral staircase sketch (it was really bad. Hadn't handled my charcoal pencil for some time.) when classmate Louise stumbled upon me. She was off for a toilet break from her work at the Shaw Foundation Library.

I didn't know you could work at the school library!

It was Hui Yi's birthday yesterday, so Happy Birthday, Hui Yi!

Didn't get to meet her yesterday. I think they had their girls' night out or something. But did get to see her a couple of weeks back at Yayin's 21st celebration. She brought her laptop along, which was gargantuan, and it was slipped in this blue-striped sleeve that uncannily resembled a PILLOW. She looked like a wandering vagrant with only her pillow. Well sad...

She complained, "So long never see you, then get to see you only you disturb me like that,"

Haha!... I did call her last night to wish her well, even though I couldn't make it for their cosy dinner. But as with any other Kalis-antics, Hui Yi didn't get to pick up the phone.

I went, "Hello, HAPPY BIRTHDAY!"

And all I heard was this screeching cackling laughter. Which I later found out was Kalis. I heard she's changing her attitude from being hostile to being more friendly. Maybe work more on the friendly than frenzy part?

Haha!...

So, I owe Hui Yi her present too. Here's a hint:



I found this nice floral pattern that I thought went very well with Hui Yi. I FOUND it. I didn't draw it. Sometimes it's just too much a hassle to have to come up with original floral motifs.

With the photocopy machine, I embarked on a mini-project for Hui Yi's birthday gift.

Later into the night, I met up with Ghani. One of those ultra last minute type of meeting. Rather like a surprise, actually...

Then I realised, not that I'm a smoker or anything, but when people go for smoke breaks together, they have a lot of things to say. A smoker deprived of a smoke, hence, probably wouldn't talk much, I guess. Smoking relaxes people lah, huh. And according to some hot smoker's madcap theory, smoking relaxes the tongue too.

I know, suggestive... But let's just leave it at that eh...

Somehow, lost all sense of time and realised that there wasn't any public transport in service. May I remind you I'm at the same time BROKE??

12.20AM: Stuck in Ang Mo Kio with no bus, no train, NO MONEY.

No money literally means NO MONEY. No money on oneself, no money in oneself's BANK ACCOUNT. But hey, as a designer, we should all be resourceful. And nothing calls more for resourcefulness than in desperate times like that.

It's time to go undercover. You see, technically I'm cashless—Singapore currency cash-less. But I DO have 65 Malaysian Ringgit with me! :)

So, I have money for a cab ride home! Desperate and shameless, I went up to the taxi driver, asked if he would accept Ringgit in Mandarin. I threw in subtle intonation differences in my Mandarin that would make me appear Malaysian. The uncle immediately panicked, as though I wanted to cheat him of his money. No just say no lah!

Pressing on, I moved on to the next cab in line. This uncle was more receptive. Plus he believed I was Malaysian!

Got home in a jiffy. My first cab ride paid in Ringgit in SIngapore! I had to pay a bit more, just to make it up to him for the inconvenience lah, huh.

Booty Luv

They sure do pack some junk in their trunk! Nadia and Cherise from Big Brovaz. I love how their vocal harmonies too!

Yadda, Yadda.

It's been three wonderful and lovely days in school, would you believe?! Lotsa love and fun over the three days.

Ghani said, "Find the silver lining and it all turns into a game,"

I suppose the silver lining's always there, just that sometimes not too immediate or apparent. The 'game' part I'm not too sure, 'cause I'm really not too big a gamer. But I've to say I had fun anyways.

Once again, caught up with many things. It's quite taxing to have to constantly pull on the reins and stop and think and realise that things are not all that bad after all. There is more to life than just school or work.

I realised that school DON'T happen to be my major priority. But yet it takes up a large part of my life, being a full-time student. I'd rather work more on myself independently than letting school work me out.

For the umpteenth time too, I need money—MORE money. I find myself getting broker and broker by the hour.

I was just talking to Sofian over lunch yesterday about jobs. By the way, having been in Lasalle for over 2 months now, it was the FIRST time I met up with Sofian for lunch.

Anyways, I was just wondering, maybe I should move on and get a higher paying part-time job. Statistically and theoretically speaking, it would be fucking chicken feed because I DO NOT BELIEVE that there are jobs out there that pay less than $4 per hour. However, realistically and practically speaking, finding a nice job to stick to is, humbly, quite tricky.

Maybe move on to work for Cathay Organization or something. I mean, after all, I do have well over 2 years of experience ONLY. Sofian said that it might just work out since it's like a 'rival' company. We all love a bit of poaching, don't we?

Then again, I'm not sure if I wanna reek of popcorn anymore too. It's been playing on my mind to get freelance design projects. I always believe that if it's a good piece of design, it will generate a good piece of pay cheque.

Couple of weeks back, I was out shopping at my favourite boutique when the owner dropped the bomb by asking if I'd like to do freelance designing for him. It was quite a stroke of luck because frankly, I'm guilty of not actively sourcing for freelance jobs. So he just kinda engaged for me to brainstorm some ideas for the boutique displays.

But so I've come to realise, to juggle freelance job and school is quite big a juggling act. There is a gazillion things to do for school, a million of which deemed quite unnecessary but mandatory. PLUS! SCHOOL DOES NOT PAY YOU FOR YOUR WORK! It's a personal sentiment that I found shared with fellow classmate/freelance graphic designer Melvyn.

Therefore, just go be a gigolo AND rent boy. Drain the juicy and plump accounts of unfaithful tai-tais AND horny uncles. After all, I'm young and fresh, got the looks, got the height, etc; it's a whole damned premium package, baby! Instant cash returns, some more.

I envisage my ginormous glass wall-cabinet displaying all 40-over Freitag products.

I took out a bottle of cool water from the fridge and observed that it was sweating profusely in the hot SG weather. It brought to mind none other than myself. This morning, during a futile search for a working cash deposit machine, I find myself much like the bottle of water—cool.

On a whole other note, a certain shit-stirrer at work said that trickery and deception are the tools of business and trade.

Anyways, here's something hot: Milla Jovovich in Resident Evil Extinction.



I didn't know kicking zombie asses could be this hot, even hotter than the desert they're at. The bit of flesh exposed at her thighs ultra turn-on siah! Plus those boots! And the scarf! Rugged yet sexy.

You know, Halloween just round the corner, and I'm just thinking of a rugged and sexy costume. Well, not for me, of course. First, dressing up for Halloween is not quite a tradition for me. Second, I don't have spare cash to splurge on Project Alice costume, or any other costumes. Just thought whoever dresses up as Project Alice would beat the SG weather hands down.

Freitag JOE and REX

Freitag messengers JOE and REX new in store at Actually...

It's one thing to see it on advertorials, but a whole other thing to have the godsent creation right before your eyes.

The REX messenger is bloody huge! Plus it's so rugged that it's orgasmically sexy...




Obviously check out the Freitag website! Link on the right, please.

Love Thy Neighbours, Eat Thy Neighbours

Haha!... At least the food they offer, I guess.

I woke up this morning, bright and early at 9.30AM, to the sound of my phone ringing. Frankly a tad miffed because I barely had 6 hours of sleep. I thought I was rather rudely jolted awake from an otherwise peaceful rest.

It was a call from the next door neighbour. Immediately I flick-switched to the most convincing you-did-not-just-wake-me-up-cos-I-was-awake-for-some-time fresh, clear voice. There's something about the hoarse morning voice that's an instant giveaway over the phone. Imagine the morning breath, though! *flinches*

Anyways, the next door auntie asked if I was at home, because she had cooked some rice and wanted to bring some over for me. What good neighbours right?

Last night, she had brought half a dozen huge chicken paos for us too. Impressive.



Sambal udang(prawn), rice and egg. OMGWTF right?

Aunty Sandy said that it was her husband, Uncle Ong, who did the cooking. Just a while back, she did offer us a dish of sambal udang with petai(?)(some smelly bean thingy) for dinner. I swear, it's the best sambal udang, okay?

This morning's udang was stir fried with ikan bilis and onions. The rice was perfect too. I like my rice kinda on the drier side, with every grain distinct, yet maintaining enough moisture for the grains to just clump nicely together. Well, it was just that. Perfectly cooked rice.

I can never cook the perfect rice. I've tried it many times with the rice cooker, but it always turns out a bit too wet, soggy even. I've never tried cooking rice over a stove though. I guess since the beginning of (my) time, cooking of rice has always been left to the rice cooker.

My mother don't happen to cook the perfect rice either. I can just vaguely remember ONE time when my mother cooked a pot of near-perfect rice. It was unfortunately just a miraculous stroke of luck. Nowadays, the rice turns out looking like kueh-kueh, sometimes pancakes.

Yeah, we could just switch to a more powerful cooker, I hear you say. But after the Housewarming Party, it's pretty clear to me that there is NOTHING wrong with the rice cooker. Remember I got home that evening, then I snooped around the busy kitchen, lifted the lid of the rice cooker and exclaimed excitedly and loudly, "WAH! The rice chio leh!"

It is not the appliance but the cookers of the rice. You know, it's a total bitch to try to agak the amount of water to add. They say with your palm flat down on the rice, the water level should just touch the middle knuckle. What a load of bull. I obviously have very thick hands in this case.

I need more experience with cooking rice. Kitchen experiments! Fun and (sometimes) delicious.

So back to the stir fried sambal udang this morning. MAN, IT WAS SPICY!


See article on Scoville scale.

The Scoville Heat Index measures the hotness of peppers. How hot can you go?

I love Habanero Tabasco sauce on everything, and that's just comes up to 8000 on the hotness scale. Therefore, the sambal udang I had this morning, DEFINITELY score at least 50 000 on the scale. I definitely love hot stuff!

Maybe, just maybe, I should try and ask for the recipe too. I mean, after all, teach a man to fish and you have fed him for a lifetime, right?

Cheeminology

Just a quick update: Heard that the police caught a local guy suspected to have committed the break-in. But still have to investigate some more. Investigation is what they're best at doing.

So, I've been reading quite a lot of things recently. Still, I don't think reading is the thing for me. Specifically, I've been hanging around the 'Social Sciences' department of the reference library.

Yes, social sciences. SOCIAL SCIENCE! Visual culture, what nots.

Did some research on semiology too. The study of signs and construction of meanings. Ultra ultra cheem stuff. I'm definitely not used to cheem stuff. I hate cheem stuff.

But surprise, surprise, I managed to absorb most of the information, albeit at a very wearisome and sluggish rate.

I don't think I can handle anymore theoretical stuff. I'm bloody turned off by theory. Art theory, design theory, theory, theory, theory. It should be rejected as a profanity.

Moving on to even more cheem stuff, I've read articles by the like of Roland Barthes, John Berger, Nicholas Mirzoeff and Erwin Panofsky.

Truthfully, what they are talking about, I have no fucking idea. But just read lor. Very smart and brainy stuff what. You know, you purposely read the wordy text article on a rush hour train and purposely do it so that the people plastered against your back can have a clear unobstructed view of what you're reading. By default, they would undoubtedly read a few lines of your article over your shoulder. Then they'll think you are very smart because they don't understand what they've read.

Therefore, articles like these don't really do much for me except for making me look wise and intellectual. Both of which I'm not, in this sense.

I'm wise and intellectual in a more street-smart way. The wise and intellectual himbo, some might say. So what if I'm not into brainy stuff? Doesn't make me less of a designer.

I've decided not to fall into the trap set by some of the lecturers. What 'cultivate thinking designers'? If I'm not thinking deep enough, then so be it. I don't see why I have to forcibly immerse myself in cheem art and design thoery articles on visual culture and what nots to become a thinking designer. I don't see why I have to intentionally take note of design trends and know all the famous designers and their classic pieces of work and shit.

I'm more into fun and spontaneous things lah, huh. Less thinking involved. JUST DO IT.

Anyways, we wanted to go GeylangSerai/JooChiat to eat the other day. But, alas, all the places were full. Seats get snapped up real quick hours before the break fast time. Obviously, only Hairianto was fasting lah.

So we hung around City Plaza, lost and confused and flushed red from all the walking. Finally decided to head to City Hall.



We later gorged ourselves with food at Magic Wok.



Then we went a-walking along the Singapore River and Clarke Quay area.

Housewarming Party

Yesterday, at the scene of the break-in, the police officer asked me who was around at home or otherwise during the break-in, and I said that there was no one.

Immediately, he shot back incredulously, "Then why now so many people?!"

It's true. All three neighbours on my floor were there. Most aunts and an uncle were there. Some other neighbours from elsewhere were there.

When I reached home last night, there was an old friend of my mother's and still a couple of aunts around.

Yesterday, my mother had engaged a contractor to fix new windows. They could only get the windows today, so they temporarily boarded up the broken window.

This morning, I found out from my mother that we needed to get a permit from, sigh, Housing Development Board before the contractor can proceed with replacing the corridor windows.

Replacing the windows costs S$600++. We bear full costs, for now. WooHoo! It's a double upgrade!

Next week, we will proceed to highlight the matter to the MP.

Last night, a cousin was around and finally I found someone who shared my sentiments.

Let's see. We've lived here for roughly 13 years only, so I guess it's rather unfortunate that in our 13th year, we encounter a break-in. I suppose 13 is not too lucky a number either, but superstitions aside. But why of all time, during the upgrading works?

Cynical aunts point fingers to the construction workers. Partly because they are mildly racist. I, for one, have no problem with construction workers. In fact, back when they were carrying out works in my flat, I treated them nicely, okay?

But can we just look at the surviving MacBook? Why wouldn't a housebreaker take a luscious gleaming white MacBook that is just lying on the desk? If they went through the store room, which they did, they would have seen the conspicuous white MacBook packaging, wouldn't they?

Purely out of speculation, the burglars are not educated. I'm just curious what a closed MacBook looks like to uneducated people. Does it not look like a machine? Does it not look like something expensive? Does it look like worthless toy? Maybe.

Un-education. Construction. Coincidental?

Anyways, a couple of aunts filed in this afternoon as well. I left in the afternoon, returned home at 6.00PM to find a cousin and one more aunt.

You know, in fact, the break-in, I can't believe I'm saying this, wasn't TOTALLY a bad thing. But I'm not exactly jumping up and down for subsequent break-ins either!

It brought life to the house. First and Second aunts were in our kitchen making dinner, reminiscent of the annual family chalet. There were people TALKING in the house! The house was cleaned up thoroughly, I mean, after all, we have had hoove marks all over... Screw the pigs... So, furniture got moved around a little and the new windows were truly and successfully UPGRADED.

After three sessions of dinner, the aunties all sat down to chat. Three sessions of dinner is because my dining table is full of clutter, allowing only a maximum of 3 people to dine on the table(but still in a cramped state). How much clutter, I hear you ask. Well, the dining table seats 6 in full-fledge function.

The living room was teeming with Hokkien chatter. The aroma of kopi wafted through the house. Just like a family housewarming party. Not a frou-frou party with fancy hats and live bands, but a cosy and homely get together. Because it was such a family thing, we settled to book the family chalet as well. Booking done online by me, credit card payment by my cousin.

My mother and her sisters are people who have no idea what credit cards are. They're the traditional cash-carrying aunties with savings accounts they guard fervently. My cousin, hence gave them a 10-minute crash lecture on the functionings of credit card systems.

At 10.00PM, the party wraps up.

Breaking In, Losing Out

2.00PM
"Did you bring your laptop with you?" my mother asked over the phone. I could hear a disturbing urgency in her voice.

I was bemused. Out of the blue I'm being asked if I brought my laptop with me? I told her that I didn't bring my laptop with me.

Then I heard her voice crack. "Someone broke into our house!" my mother wailed helplessly over the phone.

I tried to find out more to no avail because she was apparently very distraught. Her heavy sobbing and sniffling made my hair stand on ends.

I, for a moment, was lost. As lost as I've ever been in my life. "I'm going home now," my mother managed to whimper. We disconnected.

I thought for a moment, trying desperately to organise ideas in my head and rationalise the reality of truth.

Therefore, off I went, hailing a cab, heading home as calmly as possible. The cab driver was recounting the grievances she had with previous customers, but my mind was obviously else where.

My MacBook! I thought. I did a great job controlling myself. I was constantly calming myself down, putting my thoughts out on more positive things. However, the sense of urgency and despair in my mother's voice reverberated loudly in my head.

"Everything is going to be okay," I consoled myself.

2.30PM
For the first time in eons, I ran like the wind. I lunged out of my seat and sprinted to the lift lobby. Similarly, the lift ride up to the 13th floor was arduous. My heart pounded on my chest. I felt it almost at my throat. I was well ready to throw up. I really hate to see the reality of the situation!

I dashed to my house on the 12th floor.

Fortunately or unfortunately, a group of people had gathered along the corridor. They were made up of neighbours and relatives. News spread fast.

I was just stunned when I saw what the bastard(s) did.

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There was no way they could have made it through the main door, I thought to myself. But I've never expected the windows to be the break-in point!

I hastily let myself into the house. Again, it seemed like an eternity before I got in because my hands were trembling and I fumbled carelessly with the bunch of keys.


Notice the aluminium louvres on the left and right. Look at how they're just lying there like the useless things they are. I assessed the damage very briefly, all the time feeling very light-headed. It was a delirious moment; I couldn't know for sure if it was real.


The wardrobe. It dawned on me how insensitive and barbaric the burglars are. Chest of four drawers hastily emptied. Mind you, they were all locked. Top left drawer, cleared clean. I had a few bags of savings in coins. I would say approximately one to two hundred bucks. BUT ALL IN COINS.

Notice the bottom right drawer. In it is a chopper. Yes, a chopper. MY chopper. As the kitchen cabinets suggest, the monsters were looking for some kind of tool to use. It's appalling how they don't even have their own tools.


The store room. Yes, it's a mess. A haphazard and futile search in the store room, I've to say. Before the break-in, the store room was already in intermediate stages of a break-in mess. I doubt the pigs found anything to their liking. Even on a regular day, I find myself deterred from getting anything from the store room.


The next room was wrecked too. At this point, I'd really love to imagine the looks on the faces of the burglars when they find that all there is in the shelves and drawers are MY SCREENPRINTING AND ART SUPPLIES and A HELL LOT OF VINTAGE MUSIC CASSETTE TAPES!

My mother arrived shortly after me, let out a desperate and hopeless moan. Immediately she burst into tears, body shaking uncontrollably. She saw the wardrobe wreck and would not stop wailing. She let out a series of incoherent sobbing and screaming. Consequently, she collapsed.

"Called the police already?" I asked amidst the flurry of activity as the aunts and neighbours gathered round my mother.

The policemen arrived 20 minutes after I called them. CAN YOU BELIEVE I'M THE FIRST FUCKING PERSON TO CALL THE POLICE?! I WOULD HAVE BLOODY EXPECTED THE POLICE TO BE THERE AT THE SCENE ALREADY! WHAT'S THE WORTH OF THE CROWD IF NOT ONE FUCKING SOUL BOTHERED TO REPORT THE MATTER TO THE POLICE?!

Why why why?! I don't understand why no one called the police. I really cannot comprehend why not a single person called the police. What? Is it because they're not the home owner? Is it because they are scared? WHY DIDN'T ANYONE CALL THE POLICE? It's common sense isn't it? The more I think about it, the more puzzled I get.

This is probably the best part of the break-in: The Loot.

The loot of the burglars consisted of many, many, many coins, which amounted to roughly 300 bucks, SOME Singapore dollar, SOME Malaysian ringgit and SOME not-too-valuable jewellery. Oh, did I mention they made away with A LOT of coins?

But here's the interesting bit: What's NOT in the loot.

Not in the loot of the fuckingly retarded pigs are:

MACBOOK (prominently displayed on the table in the room.)

OLYMPUS COMPACT CAMERA (strewn on the living room floor.)

PANASONIC LUMIX COMPACT CAMERA (strewn on kitchen table.)

STASH OF MONEY (stashed away in top secret stashaway.)

STASH OF JEWELLERY (stashed away in top secret stashaway.)

It's either the burglars are fucking stupid or terminally retarded.

Remember my nightmare of not so long ago? The contents of my bag were stolen, so was my MacBook, but the bag and laptop sleeve were still there. I cannot help but find the occurence uncannily coincidental. A warning of some sort, I suppose.

As suay as we were to encounter a break-in, we were still very blessed that we still had the most valuable stuff. What a bunch of fucking losers. They may have broken in, but they've definitely lost out, in my humble opinion.

I asked the police officer, "Will the housing board know of this? I mean after all, these windows were 'upgraded' by them,"

He replied, "There should be a Liaison Officer in charge of this particular block. You should probably go down to the office to inform them."

So off I went, stormed my way a couple of blocks down to the Information Centre for the upgrading works. To my dismay, the receptionist was that retarded lady that came by once to my house when they were carrying out major works within my flat.

Anyways, I was bloody agitated at that time. But I managed to tell her calmly but disapprovingly about the break-in. Instead of being empathetic, or sympathetic at least, she gave me the fucked up blur look and asked, "You got call police?"

HELLO?! She obviously lives in her own retarded and delusive world where all people lack common sense and are tragically dense.

All I'm saying is, if not for the 'upgrade', there might not have been a break-in! The HDB Upgrading Precinct Programme promises a better living environment. Despite the very positive connotation the name suggests, it is in truth far from such.

'Upgrading' is the very act of raising something to a higher level. It is the act of adding or replacing components to improve equipment or machinery, a flat in this case.

I asked Little Miss Retarded if there was an in-charge I could speak to. She said she'll get the manager.

She made her dim-witted exit to look for the manager. Heard the manager chattering like a monkey. Little Miss Retarded returned, said, "Oh, my manager say that this type of matter if you call police then we will let the police handle already," in the most let down tone.

For an information centre, it is bloody useless. I couldn't be bothered to blow my top on her, so silently I stormed back home.

Back at home, the Investigating Officer had arrived and was speaking to my mother and brother in the living room. I simply recounted what I saw when I first arrived at the scene. Similarly, I expressed my displeasure for the sub-standard windows 'upgraded' by the fucking housing board.

Supposedly influenced by Little Miss Retarded, Mr Fucking Fat appeared apathetic to my concern. As though the we were not traumatised enough, Mr Fucking Fat IO decided to throw in a couple of self-prevention tips.

Rubbing salt into the wound, while at the same time adding oil to fire. Mr Fucking Fat said, "If you know that there is going to be no one at home, then you should take your own prevention. Like playing some music when no one is at home,"

My jaw abruptly hit the floor.

"Curtains? Do you have curtains? So without curtains, people can see into the house and realise that there's no one at home,"

I grew wide-eyed, jaw still on the floor, and gave the meanest frown. Mr Fucking Fat ignored me. At this point, it is apparent that he was indeed under the influence of Little Miss Retarded.

Not willing to give up my case. I insinuated that it's because of the housing board's 'upgrade' that this unfortunate incident happened. Then Mr Fucking Fat just came up with some vague and ambiguous explanation about the 'upgrading' project not being handed over to the housing board.

Frankly, I grew desperate, and continued fighting my case. I was at this point, very agitated. My mother asked to not go on. My brother hollered rudely at me, "Eh, you can shut up or not?!" He then politely apologized to Mr Fucking Fat for my unruly behaviour.

WAH! Whaddya know? Hero brother siah! For many years we haven't talked, he suddenly shouts DIRECTLY at me for me to shut up.

Seeing that I was the only 'crazy' one around, I figured I should leave. Furthermore, tensions were running high. I knew very well I couldn't get anyone to see my point about the fucking housing board. What I said couldn't get through Mr Fucking Fat's layers of blubber, my mother's distraught mind and my brother's 'heroic' let-me-see-the-burglars-I'll-beat-the-crap-outta-them attitude.

I left at 4.00PM.

I felt so sore afterwards. So sore, so very very sore.

Dry Eyes and Coloured Walls

Today, I got my specs back from the optshop. Like finally!

The weekend spent wearing contacts was a bit dreary. I suppose I'm not too used to wearing contacts lah, huh. My eyes got quite dry and uncomfortable. And it definitely felt like I got debris stuck in my eye. It was a relief when I could finally take my contacts off.

The uncle from the optshop asked if I'd like to keep the old lens, then proceeded to take the damaged lens out from a small paper package. I took a close look at the damage and said, Of course, I want to keep lah! For memory's sake.

Furthermore, haven't I said that those were fucking expensive UV- and screen-glare- proof lens? Might as well just keep it lah. Now I've got two pieces of 'flawed glass' (remember? The title of the book that I read).

Anyways, I still wanna talk about M1. The IDD commercial on TV!

"Sing... Gah.... Pore... Is that a suburb? Another country?! EH! Mumbai lah! INDIA!!!"



Wah lau! It's the best can? Especially when the guy does that hand-circling thing! I find that uber cool! The way he cups his hands and I especially love how the thumb is positioned!

Ahh... I had some good laughs watching it. It's kinda the most interesting thing on TV recently. Lotsa very lame programmes that are boring.

Anyways, I'm not too big a youtuber, but decided to youtube the IDD commercial and it came up in a fraction of a second. That's PRETTY amazing. Nothing escapes Youtube, I suppose...

So, yesterday, I was trodding along Beach Road, near Tan Quee Lan Street, when I was approached by a Muslim woman with her baby. She said she wanted to but milk powder for the baby, but didn't have money, so she is asking for donations. "You think you can help?" she requested.

I looked down at her and took 5 bucks from my wallet and gave it to her lor. I couldn't bring myself to say no. However, to those people selling pens at 2 bucks under some ex-offenders/ex-convicts job creation programme at Orchard Control Station, I say no to them very firmly.

Muslim mother and baby is my second encounter of people asking for money. The first encounter occured nearer to the DHL Balloon. Same area, mind you.

It was early morning and an Indian vagrant-looking, dishevelled man asked me for money to buy food because he got no money. I cannot remember his story, but he definitely had chewed on betel leaves, making him look like a blood-thirsty vampire. Of course, I gave hiim some money too.

Today at work:

Well, it was okay. Time passed a tad slow. But thank goodness YanSheng was on duty.

Remember what I said about the workplace being a massive cauldron? Well, a cauldron NEEDS stirring, and who better to mix it all up with a wooden spoon(*wink wink YanSheng*) than YANSHENG?!

*wink wink Leila, Jana, Billy and the mirror*

He and his interminable spread of brews... But some of the things he put ever-so-bluntly, fortunately or unfortunately, hold a certain amount of truth.

Anyways, he was asking me for advice on home decorating and space layout because he's thinking of implementing some changes to his home. Good timing is all I can say.

Because I, too, have been thinking of how I can make my home a more functional and aethetically pleasing place to live and work in. I went down to IKEA some time back to get inspired. I'm subconsciously drawn to Scandinivian/Nordic design, Dr Denim Jeansmakers included.

So at work today, we were just talking about what could be done to his room and all. Then he whipped out the IKEA '08 catalogue. Mufid saw the catalogue or something, then came up to me, asking me for advice on wall colour.

DUH, black of course! Nothing's hotter and cooler than black walls okay! I love myself a black room! But that's for another life...

I fucking hate public housing. There's no 'culture' in living in public housing. There is no 'art' in it. It's something that most of us are coerced into accepting. Yet there's nothing much that we can do about it.

My mind goes wild thinking about how I can make my living space as functional as possible, yet maintaining a bloody chio look. But then ar, no money ar...

But let's just talk about wall colours okay? I have THE most fantastic wall colour at home: WHITE.

Many a time, my mother would talk about giving the house a fresh coat of paint. I hate discussing colour palettes with her. Everything is either too 'heaty', 'gloomy', or 'hot'. Apparently a mild case of chromophobia.

And the 'colour' she'll EVENTUALLY settle with is—wait for it—WHITE!

I love white, I love black, and everything in between. But white walls just don't do for me.