the great wall of china wasn't built overnight, baby

HJ: 'Hey, did you know that a girl's menstrual cycle lasts 21 days, and then stops for a week?'

smartyypants: 'Gosh!!! You serious anot?!! I thought it's 7 days, and then it stops for 21 days, no meh?!'

HJ: 'NO! You bleed for 21 days, then stop for 7 days, and then the cycle continues again...(Hiya, like that also don't know ah! *shakes head*)'

smartyypants: '*Ponders on the meaning of life*'

-----------------------------------

We've come a long way since that conversation over the phone one late night past eleven. Of course, we are no longer the innocent, uninformed kid bordering on teenage-hood. And, of course, the both of us now know that a girl's menstrual cycle lasts a total of 7 days or lesser, and NOT, like what my friend told me - 28 days.

I've only met HJ once since we graduated from primary school eight years ago. It was at a bus stop near my house, she was studying at the school just a bus stop away from where I lived. We said hello and she asked me if I still lived at the same place. And I said yes. Our total conversation lasted less than 5 minutes. And then we said our goodbyes. It bothered me how our close friendship had dawdled to just mere friendly chit-chat akin to the small talk you have with a stranger at a party. And, I never saw her again, until last Friday, six years later, over a reunion dinner.

We've come a long way since our most significant growing stages of our lives, where we would discuss that first peek of hair sprouting out from our underarms, that first trickle of blood down under that wasn't some skin abrasion due to careless scraping because we fell down on the hard ground, giggle over our transformation from kids to teenagers.

I get the same reaction when I meet HJ for the first time in six (if you count the 5-min bus-stop encounter) or eight years, the same kind of mind erection when I meet up with someone after a lengthy time lapse: Boy, have they all grown up! It seems like I'm the only one who hasn't changed a bit. I'm still the geeky, nerdy kid whom everyone tagged the '4-Eyed Chicken'. It's like I went into a self-enforced coma, and when I woke up, everyone around me had successfully transisted from that awkward growing phrase into a full-fledged young adolescent. I'm the only constant that remains.

One thing I remember most about HJ is that - how do I put this across in a nice way? - her male hormones tend to over-exceed her feminine ones. There was always something manly about her, despite her small, petite frame. Sure, she would hug girlfriends in a welcoming embrace, but the way she talked, her hand gesticulations - they were all so masculine.

And, while she used to deck out in shoddy, boyish clothing, she now dons a figure-hugging, short flowery dress, complete with a fashion statement I term the peek-a-boo bra strap.

Told you I'm the one that never ever changes. Ten years ago, nerdy dressing. Ten years later, still nerdy dressing. Only worse.

Over cheap food and drinks, we started talking about the bar saga sometime back. You know, the one where a lady past the age of 35 was rejected entry into a club?

HJ:'And the bouncer even told the lady that this was not an old folk's home?! What the hell! Can you imagine if we were her age, and tried entering the club and kena rejected?'

smartyypants: 'But, this is an ageist society mah.'

HJ: 'Yeah, I know, but you don't have to re-inforce the fact that this is an aesthetically-driven and ageist society, where people judge you by your appearances.'

After this topic ended, another friend of mine, Xian, started talking about how ugly this particular actor is, and I was like -

'Oh! You are re-inforcing the aesthetically-driven society!'

Seriously, how the fuck does one not be judged by the way you look or dress? It's impossible, one's impression of another is formed within two minutes of meeting each other. And, to top that up, my friend HJ was not practising what she preached.

When we were queuing up for our food, she said,

HJ: 'I have this friend who has a boyfriend. Who looks OK in photographs but in real life, he's like DAMN UGLY. I'm so worried for my friend.'

smartyypants: 'Why are you worried?'

HJ: Because my friend is like REALLY REALLY PREETTYYY? *sighs in exasperation

And, just minutes later, she was saying about how we shouldn't 're-inforce this aesthestically-driven society.'

Hello?! We all have our way of discriminating others. Maybe the club looks down on OLD people, but what about yourself? You look down on UGLY people. Does that make you any better than that club that denied entry for that woman, and said that she could enter, but there were no free drinks for her. Because, they are selling meat have a business to run and a business target audience and proposition to adhere to.

Here's my take on the whole saga: I personally don't promote such blatant discrimination, especially when it is used on women and not men. (to this, I say, men are like wine - they grow more tasteful with age, can't say the same for women. And, also, of course, of the aged-old sexist notion that a rich, old man can bag a sexy, young chick. As long as he got the moolah, baby) But, I have to agree with what the club did. (Note: NOT with the way the matter was handled - like saying they are not running a charity organisation etc etc.)

Why do I say this? I think it's just pure business. In the same way, that Louis Vuittion or say, some high-end brand offer snotty services to people who look like they can't afford the exorbitant goods in there.

The only reason why this case was being magnified is because of its high visibility. After all, why would people demand for little kids to be banned from cinema theatres? Isn't that the same as banning women above 35 for free flow of drinks on a Ladies' Night?

Oh, because little kids are such a nuisance, and you don't want to waste your S$7.50 hearing to a bunch of kids screaming and doing everything else except watching the movie in peace.

In the same vein of argument, the managers also have a business to run, and therefore they don't want to waste their drinks on a bunch of women whom they don't see any return benefits simply because old women do not have the same bountiful attractiveness quotient as say, someone in their 20's, to attract lustful male predators customers out there.

Of course, there are some exceptions. There are some women in their 30s or 40s who look way much more fabulous than say, an overweight, pimply 26-year-old lady.

I think that the reason behind the general public outrage is that clubs are objectifying women. Should it be any surprise that Ladies' Night is just another business model for clubs to avail women of their sexual attractiveness and use it as human bait to lure male customers?

There are discrimination everywhere in Singapore. Based on looks, size, appearance, social standing, financial reputation, everything. So, why should one cry foul on discrimination based upon one's age, and then turn round and say that they will never ever support so-and-so singer or actor because he looks fugly? Why create double standards, is what I want to ask?

The very same person that stomps around, lamenting this blatant display of age discrimination, penning a long complaint letter on an online forum, is probably just another statistic in a bunch of Singaporeans who discriminate people based on their race and religion, or looks and appearance, or both.

Of course, people are most probably arguing based on IDEALS, not reality or what is taking place in actuality. In an ideal world, one would not be judged or treated unfairly just because one is overweight. But, we must also understand that as individuals, we are also partly contributing to the discrimination. We look at someone fat and we think it's because the other party can't control his or her food intake, or is just plain lazy to simply work out. What if it runs in the genes? Have you ever thought about that?

And, even more obvious, as human beings, we can't possibly be perfect in every sense of the word. So why not stop going around preaching on the vantage point of the hill-top that you stand on called moral high ground, when you yourself is not practising what you preach? Hypocrite behaviour.

Oh, sorry, for a while I got carried away and forgot this was supposed to be a blog entry on a girls-night-out-reunion-dinner.

HJ, I feel, is not your average Singaporean. She studies in the US and her wild antics is not exactly the common local flavour. In fact, if we were speaking about flavour, hers is definitely not boring, old vanilla. Probably some wild-mixed flavour, like raspberry peanut. She speaks with an accent, albeit on vocals leaning towards a male whose voice has just broken.

She works as a relief teacher for the intellectually diabled kids. She's a teacher, yes. She has to teach. No. Instead, she doubles-up as babysitter or nanny, meaning she has to toilet-train them.

'Oh, that sounds exciting. So, what do you have to do?' I asked.

'Hit them when they are noisy? And ask them to keep quiet?' Xian quips.

'Hit them?! More like stopping them from hitting me!' HJ slashes out, before the three of us broke into giggly laughter.

So, I found out that she actually has to change underwear for the kids when they URINE or SHIT in their pants.

10 days of relief teaching, in which HJ has to do anything and everything but teach, and she can earn enough for a trip to Perth Australia. 'My Dad pays half of the fare, and I stay at a friend's house, simple.' She said when I asked her how she had enough money to fund her trips overseas. So, you see, she's very independent that way, a fancy-free, foot-loose teenager that has the mindset of an adult.

After the meet-up, I suddenly had a desperate longing for a meeting with real friends. I don't know how to put this across - but by, real friends I mean those that you can drop out of contact with for like 3 whole months, but when you meet up with them, it felt just like yesterday the both of you have seen each other.

I did feel this way when I met up with HJ and Xian, as we quickly found common topics to bitch and gossip about. But, real friends are those whom you know will still be there, by your side, at the end of the day.

I can't say the same thing for both my primary school friends. Sure, they were those whom I were the closest to, who shared every minutiae detail of my life with, but those were in the past. Somehow, I realized I (or, rather, we), missed the boat when we failed to keep in contact the very moment we graduated eight years ago, and all those lost moments? All I can say is that a lost friendship can't be rebuilt overnight chatting about age discrimination and My Girl.

Let's just say there were pockets of moments in between conversations that I wished I was somewhere else.

Call me gorgeous...and all the things she left unsaid

Hello, dear readers, I would like to tell all of you a little story. A story about a gorgeous babe, with a personality leaving much to be desired. But, in this looks-centric society, it doesn't really matter. Or does it?

what she said: Went clubbing with the gals yesterday, this guy totally tried to hook me up. I just gave him my best, uninterested look.

what she left unsaid: So, I was on my way to clubbing with this bunch of friends when this man whistled at me and called me, 'Hey, gorgeous.' I just totally ignored him, why should I even bother, when I have like - what? a million guys chasing after me! (laughs) - he's totally not worth it, average-looking, nondescript gentlemen.

what she said: Oh, and did I tell you about that time when I was working as a customer service officer and all these random dudes tried hooking up with me because *shy laugh* I don't know! Seriously, I don't know. I'm not even as pretty or as thin or have such big boobs intelligent brains. So, seriously. I don't know what all these guys see in me too! Hahaha...

what she left unsaid: I AM SO DAMN GORGEOUS. DAMN IT. GOD MUST HAVE SPENT DECADES MORE TIME ON ME. Which, explains really, why there are so many ugly people around on this earth. God must have expended all His time and effort on me. Hahaha...

what she said: Met up with my friend Charles today. He brought a friend along, who said I looked pretty, haha.

what she left unsaid: Oh, and did I mention that time that someone called me pretty? What about gorgeous? Beautiful? Appealing? Bewitching? Charming? Classy? Cute? Dazzling? Divine? Elegant? Exquisite? Good-looking? Gorgeous? Lovely? Magnificent? Marvellous? Pretty? Radiant? Ravishing? Dashing? Stunning? Resplendent? Splendid? Statuesque? Stunning? Sublime? Superb?
LIKE DUH. I'M LIKE GOD'S GIFT TO MEN, THE MOST GORGEOUS BABE EVER TO WALK THIS PLANET. WORSHIP ME, YOU ALL NETIZENS.

*Cue shy laughter* Ahh, no of course not. I did NOT just go to dictionary.com, cut and copied that whole chunk of text you see above. I have much more brains than THAT. That, as in yes, I actually did cut and copied all those flowery words above, but no, I'm not going to tell you. *Sticks out tongue and do an act-cute pose*

what she said: Nothing mildly exciting happened today, really. Sian...But, wait a while, before I get on to that, did I mention about that HUNK i bumped into while clubbing at Zouk last night? Oh my fucking god, he has like what the most amazing blue eyes EVER, crystal-clear deep blue sea colour. SWOONS.

what she left unsaid: ONLY SUCH GORGEOUS MALES DESERVE TO BE SEEN WITH A STUNNING WOMAN LIKE ME.

what she said: I received a bunch of roses today at my workplace. It says 'Secret Admirer' on the card attached to the flowers, but I already know who the sender is. Some guys just don't get the message, do they?

what she left unsaid: Oh, *nervous laughter* and just in case anyone of you are interested to know, JJR is like SO totally INTO me. LIKE DUH. I'M THE MOST GORGEOUS WOMAN ON THIS EARTH, DIDN'T YOU ALREADY KNOW. Ohhhh Plllleeeaassseeeee.....Why don't he go look into the mirror or something???!!! Such a fugly guy...who even have the audacity to try wooing a gorgeous babe like me.

And, there you have it, dear readers. A story about a gorgeous babe, with a personality leaving much to be desired. But, in this looks-centric society, it doesn't really matter. Or does it?

Studying in Australia: A Friend's Perspective

I've been in Australia for less than two weeks, and my school semester hasn't officially started. All I do the whole day long is to stare at the computer screen and 'Appear Offline' on MSN .

Orientation starts tomorrow and a few days back, I went to have a look at my school campus. The exteriors of the building are fugly, I think they are either trying to re-construct or preserve the old heritage look of the building. smartyypants' school, which is just a stone's throw away from where I live, looks so much way better than mine.

I'm planning on getting a job here soon, but there is one criteria though, students are only allowed to work for 20 hours per week.

In Australia, the various conglomerates such as FairPrice, Cold Storage and Harvey Norman mail discount coupons over to respective houses. The folks over here fork out that precious consumer dollar for discounted items. And, you thought Singaporeans were the only bunch of kiasu fellows to have laid their footprints on Planet Earth.

Because daily consumption goods like bread and donuts cannot be kept for a day beyond, such items are heavily discounted towards the end of the day. My guardian only buys groceries after 7pm because the prices go down by 75% when dusk falls. I think she is such a cheapskate thrifty person.

Because there is a time disparity of 2 hours, 8.30pm in Singapore is equivalent to 10.30pm in Australia. Once, I was chatting with smartyypants on MSN when I asked her to go and have her dinner. To my awed surprise, she duely informed me that it was only 5.30pm and in Singapore, no one eats dinner at 5.30pm, except morons like myself . It then dawned on my forgetful self that SG's time is two hours lagging behind Australia.

When I first came to the hostel, I thought it was alright for me to sleep-in. You know, like what I'm so used to back in SG? I used to chat with smartyypants on the phone till 2am in the morning and it has become my nocturnal creature habit to call smartyypants past 12 midnight. I do that all the time. Sometimes, smartyypants get so fed up with me for disturbing her sleep that when she picks up the phone, I hear her yelling at the other end.

So, back to the topic at hand. When I first came here, I slept in till 11.30am. Before I came to this hostel, everyone would wake up punctually at 9.30am for breakfast. Hence, I cast my negative demonstration, and soon, everyone started following suit. You see, the whole bunch of us sleep together in the same room. They would wake up at 9.30am, see the lazy pig (read: myself) still sleeping in and promptly place their heads back on the comfort sanctuaries of their pillows. And, very soon, nobody wakes up. The bastards.

Well, one day, my guardian comes in and see the whole bunch of us lazy asses still sleeping, and well, you know, the rest is history. Therefore, I usually bid adieu to smartyypants at 8.30pm so I can get my ass on the bed.

Also, as anyone who is close to me can testify to: I am such a lazy pig when it comes to typing and sms-ing. It is as though I am an old woman suffering from arthirtis, and have problems getting my fingers to do some keyboard-exercising.

Hence, I like to call smartyypants all the way from Australia because I'm so damn lazy to even type I think it is more personal that way, and then I yell at smartyypants when she doesn't pick up the phone because she just wasted my moo-lah. Yes, you heard it right, even if the other party doesn't pick up the call, I still have to fork out that extra money when it comes to phone-billing time.

Another thing so amazing about this scenic, beautiful country is how independent the disabled people are. I was taking public transport the other day when a wheelchair-bound dude boarded the bus and this other guy kinda tripped upon him, which in turn kinda incurred the wrath of the dude. Until, that is, he found that the guy who had tripped over him was a blind person. Then, they started chatting with each other. Amazing how bonds are forged so quickly.

If you ask me, I don't see such behaviour taking place anytime in SG. The uptight people here would probably just bundle their facial features up into a scowl, and walk away quickly. But, that's not really their fault, it's because this is such a fast-paced society.

Over here, everything is so laid-back. You can just sit back and smell the flowers.

smartyypants asked me a very strange question just now. 'Did anyone throw orange juice or water bottles at you?' Really. I wonder how her brillant brain came up with such a disarming question.

And, so I answered her dumb question with, 'No, never, and I've never seen anyone being thrown at with water bottles or orange juice before.'

Well, then smartyypants got all excited and started hopping around the room in exhilaration when I duely informed her that they have bubble tea over here in Melbourne. But, it is like mind-blowing expensive, it costs AUS$3.50/cup (S$4.27), and I know for sure bubble-tea addict smartyypants will blow a large hole in her dad's pocket with her hapless addiction.

Alright, enough ranting. I shall leave all you dear readers with a picture I took from Port Melbourne. I've never seen so many starfish in my life, it totally took my breath away.

(Studying in Australia: A Friend's Perspective; As told by friend to smartyypants, fictional excepts not included)

My Last Day at Work

Doncha wish that you were my colleague?

Last Day At Work: I bought all these little sugar babies for my fellow colleagues. Imagine my surprise when I had random dudes coming up to me to thank me for the cakes. I had intially only given the cakes to a few colleagues whom I've worked closely with, but the cakes ended up in a merry-go-round in the office.

I realized that I should really open up my eyes wide the next time round. This random dude came up to me in the office and started talking to me. I didn't want to be rude, so I had to restrain myself from asking, 'Excuse me, but who are you?'

I succeeded, and ended up staring at her with the most clueless eyes and blank stare you've ever seen.

Then, when I took the lift down from my workplace, two random colleagues started talking to me. Most importantly, they knew my name and they knew that I worked in the same office as them. Can you imagine my upmost surprise when they called my name and started talking to me? I just had to act normal, pretend that I actually knew who they were, and talked back to them.

I'm looking around for another job right now. Keeping in mind, the realization that 'Sometimes, you don't need to be the best. All you need is recognition.' And, of course, the right contacts.

My friend once told me that her teacher says it is not about how good you are, but rather, who you know, that will bring you far. I have already expanded my network base, been casting my net as far as I can. Money is not a criterion for me, I'll willing to work for free or an internship pay. Just got in touch with someone from CNA. Hope we can work something out.

How I Spent My Day Today

1:30PM: Checked application status online. Approved!

1:31PM: Ran to colleague and told her I got in! She told me to start arranging lodging. I replied that I was going to go there to see the accomodation first. Talked abit, then hurriedly went back to my computer in exhilaration.

1:35PM: Realized that application was approved for Feb 2008, instead of July 2007.

1:36PM: Shouted to colleague that application for July intake wasn't successful. Wept silently.

1:37PM: Called up my agent aka middle man. DO officer wasn't in. Complained to poor receptionist that picked up the phone that hello? my application was for July 2007, not freaking Feb 2008, I'm not freaking going to waste half a year. Wept silently.

1:47PM: Hung up the phone after receptionist promised to revert my message to my DO officer. Started cursing under my breath and silently asking whether the freaking DO officer can afford to pay me back half a year of my life gone wasted under his hands. Wept silently.

2:15PM: Stared at 'YEAR 2008, SEM 1' on my computer screen.

2:16PM: Refreshed the page and stared at 'YEAR 2008, SEM 1' again.

2:17PM: Refreshed the page again. Then wept silently.

2:30PM: First time since lunch I got back to work. Wept silently.

3:41PM: Picked up phone. Realized got more than 10 missed calls. One from my friend who is flying to Australia today. One from my sis saying my officer called. And, the last from my officer.
3:42PM: Returned the call. Officer not in, asked to call back later.

3:43PM: Looked at missed calls and found one missed voicemail. Lady speaking on the other end left a voice mail saying that she is calling on behalf of my DO officer, and that my application for July intake has been unsuccessful.

3:45PM: Call up the officer that left the voice message. Not in! Asked to call back later. Meanwhile, wept silently.

3:47PM: Started banging around files on my workdesk angrily while at work. No mood to work. Wept silently.

3:48PM: Started comforting myself. Begin surfing the net for temporary jobs that will last me till next year. Wept silently.

4:00PM: Stared at 'YEAR 2008, SEM 1' on my computer screen.

4:01PM: Refresh.

4:02PM: Refresh again.

4:03PM: Refresh again.

4:04PM: Refresh again.

4:05PM: Refresh again.

4:06PM: Refresh again. Wept silently.

4:07PM: Phone rings. I had made bloody sure to put my phone to anti-silent mode, and picked the loudest ring tone.

4:08PM: Woman officer tells me that the Uni has rejected my application for the July 2007 intake. Wept silently.

THE NEXT ONE IS A CLASSIC. PLEASE DO NOT GO FOR ANY TOILET BREAKS AT THIS MOMENT.

4:09PM: Woman officer tells me that the Uni has rejected my application for the July 2007 intake BECAUSE THERE IS NO JULY INTAKE AT ALL!!!!

4:17PM: Happy. Go back to work. =)))

Untitled

I quit my job today.

It was kind of a last minute thing. I only gave myself less than a few hours in the morning to think. On impulse, I handed in my resignation letter and informed my boss that this week will be my last.

I'm not even working for money! I don't know why I let myself continued so long...Sick and tired...!

(Correction: I'm only working for money, which means this job is practically useless to me, no meaning at all!)

On a separate note, my application to Uni has seen a further delay. And, you thought things couldn't get any worse, they do, all the problems just multiply like pests on a wet, rainy day. They pile up and up and before you know it, they are this gargantuan, insurmountable task, an emotional and physically tiring hill to mount.

I suddenly get the feeling that I'm never gonna go.

On Suicide

Suicide is a illness. It is not a sin.

I went to a Catholic church recently.

The pastor over there gave a talk on suicide.

And, that is what he said: 'Suicide is a illness. It is not a sin.' That's not to say that anyone of you out there reading this should go out and commit a 'illness'.

Anyway, he likened suicide to 'emotional stroke'. According to him, suicide comes about as a last straw for the person when he or she as reached their wits' ends. Sometimes, it may be as simple as a loss of a relationship.

He then added on that for those of us who have lost a friend due to suicide, not to blame themselves for the misfortune, as the person commiting the act had deliberately chosen a right time and place where no one was around to commit the act. So, instead of thinking what could have been, such as 'Could I have shown him more love and concern?', accept that fact.

According to him, he said that the amount of love and concern that is lavished on one person, has no consequence whatsoever on a person's well-being or mental state of mind. Meaning that one could have been the recipient of much TLC, but still has suicidal thoughts on their minds.

He then went on to read out the letters of people's prayers.

According to my friend, there are many whom wrote in saying that this weekly church session has saved them from the evil claws of Death or Depression. There are one a many who have found renewed hope and vigour for life after attending the session every week. Then, there are those who might not even have been alive by now, had they not attended the weekly sessions.

So, anyway, the pastor read out one of the thanksgiving letters, which went something like this.

"Dear Mother (Mary),

My husband and I have been married for a long time and we have been trying for a child, only to be met with failed attempts and much disappointment. During one of my prayer sessions here, I prayed to you to bless us with a child. And, true enough, after some time, my husband and my attempts at trying for a child were successful and I became pregnant. I hope you will continue to bless me and my child, and I pray for a smooth delivery.

Your dearest daughter,

XXX"

Donut Factory @ Raffles City

12.06 PM

I reached Donut Factory @ Raffles City Shopping Centre on a Saturday afternoon. When it comes to Donut Factory, the first thing you notice is not the small shop front, but the long snaking queue.

After hearing so many reports on how the queue is painstakingly long, I was surprised to see that the queue, was in fact, unexpectedly short. Being a weekend, teenagers and secondary school students dominated the queue. There was hardly a single working adult in sight. What more on a weekday, where adults have only one hour of lunch break to spare? Would the queue have been much more shorter?

Therefore, I was curious indeed to see why people had queued SEVEN to FIVE hours just to buy donuts. Was the long waiting a thing of the past, was the fad dying a slow painful death, like the bubble tea craze?

As you probably already know, when Donut Factory first started up, the media quickly picked on it and slowly deviously exploited the donut craze, devoting pages after pages of column inches to these sugary babies.

Anyway, if you ever make the trip down, don't be like my hygiene-conscious friend, who refused to sit down on the floor. It can get very tiring, so feel free to sit down as everyone else is doing so.

Of course, there were a few lone ones who stood all the way, but unless you are the dirt-conscious type who is afraid of sitting down where thousands of the soles of shoes and heels have trodden upon, my suggestion is not to.

Also, I spotted many in the queue sporting PSPs, Gameboys, magazines etc. These people sure came well-equipped, but what beats a real-life breathing human being aka your companion to make donut queuing a more tolerable social activity?

12.30 PM

Donut Factory finally opens and there is a sudden rush forward. Before I went to Donut Factory, I've read many food reviews on how the sugary smell of the donuts surge forward to greet you amiacably while you queue (im)patiently for your turn.

Well, they were half right, the smell of creamy sugar rushed forward - but, wait a minute - it isn't coming from Donut Factory. Instead, the sweet creamy smell is coming from Donut Factory's (drum roll) neighbour, Beard Papa!

13:35 PM

After feeling kind of frustrated that the queue wasn't even that long in the first place, so why the hell was the queue moving so slowly? I went to the front of the queue to investigate.

The numbers of service staff were sufficient enough and they were all very efficient. Behind the kitchen, you can see the chef hard at work, needling a sizeable amount of dough. The donuts were churned out at the speed of a bullet train in an assembly-line fashion.

So, my questions again is this: What was holding up the queue?

Alas! It was not the quantity of people that contributed to the long waiting times. It was the quantity of donuts that each individual bought!

One group (two guys, one girl) of grown-ups bought TWELVE freaking boxes of donuts. Again and again, the boxes were folded, the donuts were chosen, and the boxes were placed aside. Multiply that by twelve times. The queue did not move for a good ten to fifteen minutes.

Assuming that every other person takes that amount of time before they whisk off with their donuts purchase, that would mean that only a meagre amount of SIX people would be served in one hour.

A-ha! smartyypants has solved the mystery of the long queues!

More pictures of the mouth-salivating donuts:

14:00 PM

We finally got our donuts, after a painstakingly long queuing process for a good two hours.

(From Top Left) Apple Cinnamon, Blueberry Glazed, White Strawberry Heart, Strawberry White Chocolate

(From Middle Left) Kaya White Chocolate, Double Chocolate, Orange White Chocolate, Glazed

(From Bottom Left) Dark Chocolate, Raspberry, Peanut Dark Chocolate, Hazelnut Milk Chocolate

The sublime donuts which my teeth sink into with guilty indulgence, injected with generous fillings such as strawberry jam and thick chocolate syrup, ozzing forward with unbirdled abundance, thereby giving you an euphoria rush. These sweet little things are enveloped within a crusty, flaky outer layer. Hungry, yet?

To give up your seat or not?

You know how when pregnant women or old grannies and grandpas walk into a bus or train, there are generally two kinds of reactions?

The first is where The Sleep FairyGodmother suddenly descends and everyone goes into automatic eye-shut mode.

The second is where someone gets up and (willingly) offers their seat.

Today, I walked into a bus, and the second happened to me.

Okay....















I'M NOT EVEN PREGNANT OR OLD!!!!!!

The poor soul whom I'm cursing right now is a 30-something year old businessmen, in a straight-cut business suit, and looks all smart and business-y.

I had boarded the bus, and to my dismay, all seats were filled up and there were many standing. Either my face was very black or MY TUMMY IS VERY OBVIOUS, because after standing for barely more than a minute, the man behind me stood up and said to me, 'You can sit.'

I didn't hear him for the first time round, but I heard the same deep voice echoing behind my back once again, and when I turned, a very tall Malay, professional-looking man, said to me again, 'You can sit down' before gesturing to the seat behind me.

Because everything happened so fast, my voice didn't have time to react. So, ass did the thinking for me. Or rather, on behalf of my brain, which works at a slower rate than my now non-existent dial-up connection modem. Of course, my lazy ass wanted to quickly plonk itself on the seat, so that's what I hurriedly did. Without so much as muttering a word of 'thanks'.

In the beginning, I was thinking to myself (ALRIGHT, YOU WIN, COMFORTING MYSELF), that the man was prepared to alight at the next stop, so that's why he got up earlier and got me to sit down because I was the one standing nearest to him.

I mean, that's the basic reaction one gets right? Ass don't come out of the seat until old woman walks in or one reaches his or her destination.

But, no, the man didn't alight at the next bus-stop!!!! Instead, he continued standing while my ass comfortably made itself at home snuggling up to the seat.

SO WHY DID THE MAN GIVE UP HIS SEAT TO ME?????!!!!!

After much deep pondering, I have come up with four possible scenarios.

1) Of course, it's no surprise that he would give up his seat to me. I mean, everyone is fighting for a chance to give up their seats to me. I'm like, -what?- the closest Singapore ever gets to Angelina Jolie (cues vomit) You know, people like to brag they they gave up their seat to Angelina Jolie. That beats 'Oh, I gave up my seat to this 80-year-old grandmother, who looked like she was about to collapse anytime.'

2) He saw my black face after finding no empty seats.

3) He thinks I'm pregnant.

4) I'm a big fat liar. I'm actually an 80-year-old grandmother, taking on the identity of this young lady, and my arthritic-ridden fingers are the one doing the typing right now. That explains everything. That explains why that young lad gave up his seat to me. I must also add on ah, that nowadays, you young people all got no manners, see old people still carry on sitting, how many people like this good man give up their seats to me? Learn something, readers!

After much thinking again, I have come up with one final conclusion: He thinks I is pregnant.

Yes, yes, I'm one of those people who when asked a pyschological question such as: Why is everyone staring at you today? My answer is always the same: Because my fly is open.

Great. This is a predomination for me to start losing weight.

Which brings me back to my secondary school days. Rewind back to the time when my house was under renovation and we all moved to Stevens Road to stay temporarily. Since Orchard Road was only a few bus stops away, my sister and I would without fail, make a trip down there everyday. And, when I say everyday, I mean every single day.

So, one day, we were on the bus from Orchard Road going back to our house. Since it was around 6pm, the bus was sardine-packed, and there was barely enough arm space. We were lucky, my sister and I got seats.

Then, suddenly, when ass was comfortable and all, my guilty conscience hit me harder than a wet rag. I looked around and I saw all these grumpy, frustrated faces around me standing. They didn't look happy to be standing at all. How could I??!!! How could I just sit there comfortably while there were all these tired-looking people around me??! I couldn't. So, I started looking around. Finally, I spotted my target: a young, (late-20s or early 30s) professional-looking working lady. So, I dragged my reluctant ass out of the seat.

'You can sit on my seat.' I told her.

Oh god, I was so proud of myself. See, I'm not self-centered and selfish. Here I am, offering my seat to a young working lady who'd probably just knocked off from work and was tired and just wanted to get home as quickly as possible.

The lady just ignored me.

So, I repeated myself, all the while gesturing to the seat which my ass had just warmed up seconds ago.

Again, she didn't reply. But, looked at me with this look that I swear wasn't very pleasant.

I felt my anger flare like fireworks on the horizonsky during National Day Parade. Here I was, being a kind and selfless soul, offering my seat to a tired-looking lady, SO WHY THE HELL DOES SHE NOT APPRECIATE MY SELFLESSNESS AND SIT DOWN?!

Finally, she replied. 'No, no!' waving her hands maniacally around. I was horrified. Is this the way one reacts to another's kindness? I was convinced that this lady wasn't very friendly.

And, so I insisted, asking her again to sit down. She said, 'No, no!' And, finally, with her features scowling fiercely, she turned on her heels (whatever space there was left for her to turn) and pushed her way to the back of the bus.

I was horrified, looked at my sister, as if to say, 'Can you believe it? I was kind enough to offer this young lady my seat, and she just totally snubbed me? And, what the hell was that look on her face for?!'

When we reached our bus stop, we alighted, my mind still reeling with the shock and level of unfriendliness the woman had just bestowed upon me.

My sister then turned to me and said something I will remember for the rest of my life.

"YOU DON'T GIVE UP YOUR SEAT TO A YOUNG LADY."

Oh.

You don't???

Okay. Look. How was I supposed to know right? I mean my textbook didn't say that. No one told me that you only give up seats to old and pregnant people. And, come on, I was only like what - 12 years old? - who would know such deep logic at such a young age right? Yup, not my fault. Totally not my fault.

So, now I have grown up to be a very sensible teenager verging on adulthood status. And, I know. Really, I do. You don't give up your seat to young people. Only old grandpas and grandmas. And women who sport visible big bumps on their stomachs. Of the right kind, of course. You don't want to go around offending any random horizontally-challenged woman.

Oh, and I bet a dime my Moral and Civics Education teacher would be so proud of me. =))

I know! I finally know!!! The woman has disguised herself as a man to take revenge on me, that day many years ago, when I 'insulted' her for looking old. Oh, come on! I didn't mean it that way. Be kind. =))

I smile and the world smiles with me

I am very, very angry.

So angry that I risk bursting a blood vessel.

So the motherfucker DO officer rang me up today.

And, asked me whether I still wanted to go for the July intake.

Yeah. And I always tell my taxi driver to take the longer and more expensive route.

After umpteenth times of telling him, 'I do want to go for the July intake' in a no-matter-what-it-takes determination, that fucker then told me 'My advice for you is wait for next year. Because it will be very rushed on you if you still want to go for the July intake.'

I told him, 'No. I want to go for the July intake. I don't want to waste half a year.'

He then launched into a tirade on why I shouldn't go for the July intake, even though I'm sure my steel-laden resolve was so evident that even the satellite raditation couldn't fail to transmit those waves of determination and pure resolve emitting from my side of the phone.

So, this was the conversation we had on the phone this morning. (The one in brackets are my replies.)

'I really advise you NOT to go for the July intake. But, since you insist...Because it will be very rushed on you. The latest I can get you there is just right on the FIRST DAY OF SCHOOL. And, you will miss orientation. (I don't mind missing orientation) Yeah, but it's during the orientation where you get to choose your modules and curriculum blah blah blah...So, if you reach there just nice, you will feel very stressed. You haven't settle accomodation yet. Beause if you have relatives or friends there, (I have friends over there) then you wouldn't have to worry about lodging for the time being.'

'Because even the latest right now is still pending Visa application. But, you? You haven't even receive confirmation from the University. And, Visa application the earliest also takes a week. And, we cannot control Visa duration, because it all depends on them. So, it may take from as short as five days to as long as two weeks. And, you may have to miss a week or two of school. (I don't mind missing a week or two of school) So, you don't mind eh? ...But, my advice for you is actually to go next year instead, because you will be very stressed. (MOTHERFUCKER!) You need time to settle in all all that...But since you are so insistent...But, you really want to go for the July intake right? (!!!!!!!!! dies from anger)'

* (MOTHERFUCKER!) not included in conversation.

So, as you can see for yourself with your own eyes, this stupid asshole DO officer kept telling me about the CONS of what if I went for the July intake, and then going on to reducing it to nothingness against my own resolveness.

That was the long version. This is the short, edited version.

him: Blah blah blah (ALL CONS), but you really want to go right? Blah Blah Blah (ALL CONS AGAIN), but you really want to go right? Blah Blah Blah (ALL CONS AGAIN), but you really want to go right?

Excuse me, fucker, since you are so fucking sure that I REALLY REALLY want to make it for the July intake, you tell me all these fucking things for what?!!

Of course, of course, I'm not an unreasonable person. It is not because of all these that vulgar language is dominating about 90% of my entry here.

THE FUCKING THING IS THIS: IT IS ALL HIS FAULT THAT I AM RUSHING FOR THE JULY INTAKE. AND, EVEN MORE HIS FAULT THAT I MAY MISS A WEEK OR TWO OF CLASSES, AND EVEN MORE MORE HIS FAULT THAT I WILL FEEL VERY STRESSED AND PROBABLY I DON'T KNOW CUT MY THROAT OR SOMETHING BUT I'M KIDDING. REALLY.

Ok, let me explain.

After waiting for two weeks with no news whatsoever from my fucking DO officer, who will receive whatever offer letters the Uni sends, I went online to check the status of my application.

To my horror, my status is this: PO. Which means, still pending for documents, which fucking means they are still waiting for me to send in additional documents to them before they can process my application.

AND, MY FUCKING OFFICER DIDN'T EVEN BOTHER TO TELL ME!

IF I HADN'T BOTHERED TO GO ONLINE TO CHECK AND MAKE A TRIP DOWN TO THE FUCKING OFFICE THE VERY NEXT DAY TO DEMAND AN EXPLANATION, AND HAVE HIS VERY KIND COLLEAGUE (HE WAS ON FUCKING LEAVE) INFORM ME THAT I HAVE YET TO HAND IN SO-AND-SO DOCUMENTS, WOULD I HAVE KNOWN?!

NO. I WOULD JUST HAVE BEEN A FUCKING STUPID IDIOT WHO TELLS EVERYONE WHO ASKS, 'OH, I'VE HANDED IN ALL THE RELEVANT DOCUMENTS ALREADY, NOW JUST WAITING FOR THEIR REPLY. IT WON'T TAKE LONG. MY DO OFFICER TOLD ME TWO WEEKS OR SO. (SMILES BRIGHTLY)'

WHICH LITERALLY MEANS THAT BECAUSE OF HIS INEFFICENCY IN INFORMING ME THAT I HAVE TO HAND IN SO AND SO DOCUMENTS, INSTEAD TELLING ME THAT ALL THE DOCUMENTS WERE IN AND THE ONLY THING TO DO IS WAIT FOR THE OFFER LETTER FROM THE UNI, WOULD I HAVE WASTED TWO CRITICAL WEEKS OF MY LIFE WAITING AND WAITING, WHEN IN FACT, THAT TWO WEEKS COULD TRANSLATE INTO VALUABLE TIME FOR ME TO COMPLETE MY VISA APPLICATION, GET MY MEDICAL CHECK-UP DONE, AND GET MY ASS ON THE PLANE ONE WEEK BEFORE SCHOOL OFFICIALLY STARTS TO SETTLE MY ACCOMODATION.

TO GIVE HIM A LITTLE CREDIT, I HAD INITALLY HANDED IN THE RELEVANT DOCUMENTS ALREADY. JUST THAT I HANDED IT IN A LONG LONG TIME AGO, WHICH MEANS THAT BY NOW, IT HAS ALREADY BEEN DISCARDED.

NOW TO GIVE HIM AN OVERFLOW OF DEMERIT POINTS, WHY DIDN'T HE ANTICIPATE THIS PROBLEM? WHY DID HE ONLY EXPLAIN THIS SCENARIO TO ME AFTER SO SO SO LONG (THIS MORNING) WHEN IN FACT HE SHOULD HAVE DONE SO WHEN I WAS DOING MY APPLICATION THAT I HANDED IN TWO WEEKS AGO? HE SOULD HAVE FUCKING ASKED ME TO RE-SEND!!!!!!

HIS INEFFICIENCY HAS COST ME DISTRESS AND NOW HE SOMEMORE HAS THE CHEEK TO TRY TO RUIN MY FUTURE AND LIFE BY ASKING ME TO WAIT AROUND UNTIL THE NEXT INTAKE ROLLS BY NEXT YEAR.

IF THIS ASSHOLE WAS MY DOCTOR, AND I WAS IN CRITICALLY ILL CONDITION, I WOULD PROBABLY JUST PULL THE PLUG AND LET MYSELF DIE AN INSTANT DEATH, THAN HIM LETTING ME 'OH, JUST HANG AROUND, MAYBE SHE WILL STILL BE ALIVE TWO WEEKS LATER.'

OKAY. I KNOW. IRRELEVANT. BUT I'M MAD. AND WHEN I'M MAD, ANYTHING GOES. EVEN NONSENSE. EVEN NONSENSE GOES UP IN MY BLOG.

Ok, back to topic. In short, who's causing me all these stress (now and later), causing me to miss orientation or putting me at risk of missing school a week or two?

YOUR 'LITTLE' MISTAKE HAS PUT MY FUTURE AND LIFE AT STAKE.

BIASED OR NOT, TO ME, THIS DO OFFICER CAN DO NO RIGHT.

I am old, and therefore I have the right

The ginormous machine yawned sleepily, its lips pulled back to spit out a handful of bedraggled commuters in a jaw-challenging exercise. But, just as quickly as its bowels were cleansed out, a new bunch of passengers quickly jostled forward, like a school of fish.

I looked around, and spotted an empty seat just a distance away from where I was standing.

Eyelids dropping and laden with sleep, I desperately rushed forward, just as the doors opened.

When I was just inches away from the seat, from my peripheral vision, I could make out a person rushing forward for the same identical seat as me, but with the speed of a bullet train.

I hurriedly stopped in my tracks, as I whiffed a scent of hostility.

Looking up, I saw a wizened old man, who stared daggers as me. He didn't place his ass on the seat yet, instead, he stood in front of the seat, and held his hand up as though to say, 'This seat is MINE. I'm just an old man, what right do you have to snatch with me, young lady?'

My heart was filled with abhorrence at the sight of this old man, who behaved like a three-year old kid screaming to get his way. And, expected the whole world to bow at his feet, which by the way, was seeking refuge in a pair of chocolate-brown slippers.

He was clearly a man of an almost vanishing bygone era, the proud facade of a war ranger, and with the same stubborness as a mule.

Of course, I wasn't going to fight with an old man, was I? So, I sighed inwardly, and settled my behind snugly in another seat a stone's throw away.

When the ass of the old man was firmly ensconced in his seat, which he had fought tooth and nail for, he placed his large 1.5ml water bottle just next to him, guarding it with the same protectiveness of a mother over her biological son. As though the rest of the commuters were vultures, solemnly awaiting prey.

The old man took out his notebook, an old, raggled brown book that has seen a few upheavals in its time, perfectly synonymous with himself.

Evidently, he displayed traits similar to our ancestors. While the world has moved forward rapidly, he still bore the same attitude as our ancestors who first stepped foot on this little island that would later be known as Singapore.

As refuges, it was a me-me, self-centered world. Men fought against their own humankind in dominance over necessities such as food and water.

Even though society has progressed at an alrming rate, I can't say that this kind of mentality has been erased today.

Instead, it is quickly gaining foothold in a materialistic, commercial-driven nation.

Innocuous street-spitting, nose-digging and gang fights have been elevated to corporate back-stabbing, selfish-prone instincts, and, - what else - nose-digging and gang fights.

(Yes, yes, I know some people still spit on the street and openly in dustbins, but these people belong to the older generation.)

Simply put, the man was not just one bad egg in a basketful of decent eggs. However, he was more prone to flaunting it, compared to others who might have the courtesy and intellectual (and more prone to embarrassment) to keep it stashed away.

The old man seemed to establish the train as his own home. Either that, or he placed creature comforts over basic courtesy and respect for other commuters.

Because he then proceeded to shake one feet out of his slipper, and propped that offensive appendage up on the seat, in the similar fashion as a trishaw ridder, with shrug-his-shoulders careless mannerisms.

And, still, his scrawny fingers remained curled around the bottle, guarding it. Then, as though, that wasn't enough, he pushed it closer to him, like a mother would to a child if he was scared.

I tossed one last disparaging look at him before alighting the train.

The skies are blue and the sun is shining bright...

...but my mood is a hell of a thunder and lightning!

I received a call from an ex- schoolmate today, and ended up having a long conversation with her in the office.

What a good way to kill office boredom. Especially since the rest of my colleagues are in the boardroom watching Charlotte's Web.

Apparently, she is going to the same college as me in Australia too.

So, after getting my contact number from a mutual friend, she wasted no time in ringing me up.

'Eh, heard that you are going Australia for overseas studies?'

'Er..yeah.'

'Which Uni?'

Turns out that we are attending the same uni, both applicants for the July intake.

Since our surname are about the same in terms of alphabetical order, turns out that our DO officer is the same person as well!

The same irritating, snobbish person. We had a thrilling time bitching about him on the phone.

And, please lor, she has already done her Visa application and medical check-up, and will be flying to Melbourne come next Sunday.

According to her, she is already very very very late! And, that's why she's skipping orientation.

Ok, great, I just love it when I receive such lovely news on such a lovely Wednesday afternoon. I'm like, what, hanging halfway through processing of my application, haven't gotten my Visa application done, haven't done stupid medical check-up, haven't done nothing! So, if she is very very very late, where does that leave me?

She adds on, 'The officer make it seemed like I'm one of the last one to apply...but turns out you are even later than me!'

Thanks hor! =))

Also, she was shocked to hear that I haven't even gotten my Visa application done, since she went back to school and teacher apparently told her that I will have flown off by next week.

Also, according to her she has attended the pre-departure talk, on the what's, where's and how's before we say goodbye to Singapore and hello to Melbourne.

'Didn't your DO officer inform you?'

Nope. That son-of-a-bitch officer didn't even tell me a fuck about pre-departure talk.

I'm so gonna kill him.

Oh lovely lovely day.

before you board the train, kindly leave your bedroom antics just that

And, there you were, both arms hanging on dependably on him, like koala bear to a tree. Your fingers curled around his neck with the same reliance that a TV addict devotes to the remote control. As though, by letting go, you would plunge 130 metres all the way down and hit your bottom smack on the ground.

Actually, how nice if that were true, then at least you wouldn't be standing here in front of me, in front of a totally disgusted me.

He was no better. His arms around your puny physique. Tickling you on your sides, and then you giggling like a giddy schoolgirl that has just been let onto a privileged secret.

If there was anything remotely attractive about you, sorry, I didn't see it. Perhaps, it was your infertile attitude that contributed to my jaundiced view of your puerile character.

But, clearly, beauty is subjective. And, your boyfriend, couldn't keep his hands off you. Trailing your pouted lips suggestively, touching your hair, your waist, positioning his arms on the small of your back and then rubbing them up and down in such a lascivious manner.

Yes, yes, I know the both of you must be greatly deeply madly in love with each other, so much so that your lust for each other has burgeoned over to improper boundaries. So, much so that the whole world, (or at least all those who had the misfortune of being around the vicinity of the both of you in that MRT) has to bear witness to that unadulterated love and desire you have for the other party.

I'm sorry, but I grew up a product of conservative Asian society, and I'm really a grandmother when it comes to PDAs. I frown upon licentious attitude flagrantly displayed in the public eye.

And, I wasn't the only one. I wonder if it's true that people who are in love have eyes only for each other, because you and him were seemingly both oblivious to all the dirty glances other commuters were throwing your way.

And, then as I thought things couldn't get any worse, you started whining. As your boyfriend lean in to whisper sweet nothings into your ears, your lips part open and in a honey-coated, syrupy adolescent-like voice, you protest, 'I can't hear what you are saying...'

Forgive me if I vomited in my mouth that very same time you uttered those words. In that whiny, whimpering voice like a baby that wants his milk, you repeat those offensive words once again. 'Ummmm....(twitches body) I can't hear you...'

Please, the both of you could probably just have sex on that MRT, and I'd probably feel less disgusted and violated.

In fact, it would feel so common that other commuters would probably just glance your way and go, 'Oh, no biggie, they are just having sex on the train.'

Work is the absence of social life Part II

::ONE::
I finally got my own desk. Now, this is what I called being appreciated. You know, a proper workplace that belongs to you for the duration of your stint over there. In fact, I actually feel so much more appreciated because my computer automatically switches off every five minutes or so. Hooray! What more can I ask for?

Okay, that is, before I figured out the idiosyncrasy of this particular computer, and then we got along just fine. =))

::TWO::
I am getting later and later for work. What's new, right? 'Early', by my definition, means half an hour late. 'Late', also by my definition, means an hour late. My work starts at 9am, and sometimes, I leave my house past 9am, and at 9.30am, you see this mad girl making a mad dash for the Bugis MRT station. You know, running like a chicken on fire. And, when I say 'running', I really mean, strolling leisurely at my own pace.

::THREE::
During my school holidays, I used to work at this company, let's call it Branch A. And then, when the next holidays rolled by, I worked at another company, let's call it Branch B. And, now I'm working at Branch C.

So, the first day I stepped into the office (only 1/2 hr late!), I saw a familiar face. Well, this person, she used to be my boss when I was working at Branch A. Apparently, she transferred over to Branch C, so now we are colleagues once again.

The freaky thing is my boss at Branch B...transferred over to Branch A!!! Freaky, it seems like our lives are all inter-connected in one way or another. We had a good laugh over this.

::FOUR::
Ironically, when I was temping at Branch A, I was never close to this boss of mine. In fact, I hardly spoke more than 10 sentences to her, and hardly saw her face even. Since she was the big boss, she was either always cooped up in the 'Manager's Room' or out meeting clients.

Now that she's working at Branch C, and seating just two tables away from me, she's the one whom I'm closest to in the whole company.

Funny how relationships of people change when situations change. I used to think that she was such a stranger to me, even though she was my boss and all, and I wouldn't even think of getting close to her. But, now, I seriously don't know what I would do if she weren't around at Branch C, because she's the one whom I talk to the most and who always offer me food to fatten me up! =)

So, who the hell says one's position on the corporate ladder has no consequence whatsoever to one's social standing in the same company?

::FIVE:
This has nothing to do with my work, but my friend thinks I'm working as a fireman, or woman, whichever you prefer.

SMS conversations re-produced, verbatim, as below.

Ms. Naive: so, where are you working at now eh?
smartyypants: I'm working at CDC currently.
Ms. Naive: wats cdc? civil defence ctr?
smartyypants: Yah, it's Civil Defence Ctr, and I help to put out fires in people's homes.
Ms. Naive: yah right! lol lor. no really, its not civil defence ctr ryt?
smartyypants: It is.
Ms. Naive: hah? are you really serious abt this?? somehow i can just imagine you giggling there . . but lyk a bit bliv also leh. but how can you help to put out fires??
smartyypants: I help out la, when the firemen is on duty, I tag along lor. See how they put out the fires, basically what I have to do is operate the sprinkler system.
smartyypants: And, not that I want to boast or what, but today, I put out a fire in a house in Paya Lebar, and saved an entire family, including a grandmother and a 6-year-old kid. I'm not supposed to tell anyone this, but the police are planning to give me a medal in recognition of my bravery and.. I'm gonna get a pay rise, yipee!
Ms. Naive: wow cool.

For your info, I totally made up that 'sprinkler system' thing. And, of course, there's no grandmother and the only 6-year-old kid is the one I dreamed up of myself during my younger days. Alas, my naive friend swallowed all these fragments of creative imagery and questionable authencity with unquestionable doubt.

Anyway, any discernible reader will be able to see for themselves that halfway through my messages, I started dishing out doses of caustic humour.

To which, my friend swallowed everything, to even my own pleasant surprise and shock. And, in case, you think that she could be playing along with me, I say: Nay. Even after this whole sms saga, she occasionally texted me on how I was getting along with my 'fire job' and whether I had to save people today. And, she wasn't even joking. Nope, not in jest, but in a dead-pan kind of way. The funny thing about all this is how serious she took it.

Well, now if she's reading this, haha, you know you're PUNK'ED!

Oh, so just you are aware, this is the very same friend that once voted me as the most naive out of a bunch of friends, including herself.

What more can I say? Revenge is finger-licking sweet.

::SIX::
Whenever boss isn't looking, I leave the office earlier. By now, you should know that my definition of everything doesn't go by common standards. So, when I say earlier, I actually mean say, half an hour earlier? And, that's on days when I'm being a good girl.

::SEVEN::
I actually have reasons for No. SIX. Because I have important appointments to rush to. You know, not exactly life-threatening situations, but well, it comes close. Like, say, for example, this person is holding an autograph session at Plaza Singapura. 'Ahh!!' You all must be thinking. 'So important!!' Well, wait till you hear this. That day, I left half an hour earlier because I needed to catch Shrek 3 for the 7.30pm slot.

::EIGHT::
The place where I'm working actually houses a smorgasbord of companies, besides the one I'm working at now. Well, since this place is located in a very ulu place far away from town, the people over here can be very weird sometimes too. Not weird crazy, but as in weird different.

For example, do you have random people walking past you and smiling at you as though they've just striked lottery? Or people coming up to you and say 'Good Morning!'

Well, so after having worked here for quite some time now, I was taking the lift one day, when this guy (I swear I didn't know him!) kept smiling this polite smile at me all the time while we were were in that claustrophobic small width of space. And, it happened twice, with two different guys.

I got a bit scared, and thought that the people here were all crazy or something! I mean, normal Singaporeans aren't half as polite or friendly! Just walk down any busy street in Singapore on a normal working day (esp. Mondays) and all you see around are sulky and gloomy faces that reflect the overcast skies on a stormy night.

Since I wasn't accustomed to such friendliness, the only way I could reciprocate was by looking away and thinking to myself, 'Crazy! I also don't know you, smile at me for what!' So, I looked away when this guy kept smiling at me, but still, I stole curious glances at him to see if he was still looking. And still, Mr Pervert maintained his perennially-smiling expression directed at me!

So, anyway, that day I was taking the lift once again. And, then this girl came up to me, smiled this eye-blindingly, sunshine bright, cheery smile at me, and said, 'Good Morning!'

Okay, this is really very freaky can!! Why are all these strange, random people being so polite by default? This is not right! This cannot be happening in a country where the government has to hold a '4 Million Smiles Campaign' to promote genial-looking faces on their own people to welcome foreigners into the country.

Later, I finally discovered that all these weird people had one thing in common:

They all worked in the same company as me.

Okay....

WHAT?!! I SWEAR I DIDN'T KNOW!

Imagine my shock when I saw Mr Pervert prancing around in my office. (Gasp!!!)

::NINE::
I lost my employee pass and had to pay an imposed fine of 30 over bucks for a replacement.

The worse thing was, when I told my friend about it, her response wasn't the least bit encouraging, 'Huh? Oh, okay. Normal what, not surprising at all.'

I mean, this girl here just lost about one day's work worth of money, why can't my friend at least, you know, pretend to be shocked or something and then offer some sort of sympathy.

She could, I don't know, maybe pretend to be flabbergasted and say something like, 'What?!! How is it possible?!! You are always so careful with your things!'

Er..strangely enough. Nope. I wasn't the least bit upset over it. I was very happy to fork out that money. In case you are thinking this person over here is mad, let me tell you something. This is the very same person that lost her handphone, her entire wallet, including IC, Ez-Link card, cash etc...all in one day.

One has to count one's blessings.

::TEN::
All the girls who are temping here are so Nicole Richie/Kate Moss-skinny, so much so that they look like two of them could fit into one pair of my (XL) jeans. Finally, after suffering from low self-esteem and fed up of being the fattest, I wore my pair of skinny jeans to work. And, then, I was SO DARN proud of myself, because finally I could snuggle to fit into their size frame. That is, until one of the girls wore skinny jeans to work the very next day.

::ELEVEN::
The past few weeks haven't seen any laudable changes to my wardrobe choices. I've tried to extent the choices of my outfits. But, the furthest I've ever gotten is that instead of dark blue, I choose a lighter shade of blue. Pity then, that there is no such thing as whiter white or blacker black.

But, then, my mum was telling me how all the temps in her office all looked like they had no money to buy clothes. And, she said that one of her fellow colleague's wardrobe only had two pieces of clothings, and she alternated between the both of them. LOL.

::TWELVE::
I'm still employed. Hooray!

batting for the other team

It was dark inside. The first thing you notice when you step beyond the thin fabric of a curtain is a bright red heart-shaped carpet that hints of something seductive inside. The whole atmosphere is like a flirty temptress ala femme fatale, staring you amorously in the eye, daring you to delve deeper into the bowels of the unknown. The dimly-lit alleyway introduced us to a close to pitch-dark room. Candles on random tables, as well as barely there lights from above the ceiling, make a half-hearted attempt in lighting up the entire room. The cosy ambiance was like a lullaby, slowly luring oneself into a sleepy mood.

This is not your average bar. It is a gay lifestyle bar.

Situated right in the heartbeat of Chinatown, there is nothing about the appearance on the outside that gives a clue of what lays within the confines of the very chinese-looking building. You know, like those monuments that you see in period dramas. It looks like any other shophouse.

We sat in a corner of the bar, playing games to pass time. One of us would come up with a category, for example, gay actors. Then, we would go around the table, and the person who failed to come up with a name, has to drink. The penalty of the lime alcohol intake wasn't half as bad compared to the Bacardi C Blanca (premium hard-core liquor), which I shared with a friend.

I sipped a pint of Bacardi C Blanca and squirmed at the bitterness of the $11-a-cup alcohol.

Apparently, there was more 'action' going on at the counter bar, as opposed to the cosy corner that we took our stake in. The two waitresses were two very gay (gay as in sexual orientation, as well as gay, as in happy) young-looking Chinese dudes. One got a little too close for comfort when he asked me if I wanted a drink.

The two would go around the tables, flirting with the gays, touching them effeminately on the shoulders. Occasionally, when there was nothing to do, they would stand around in a corner, and flick their hair about in a very feminine kind of way.

Kylie Minougue's 'Can't Get You Out of My Head' was blaring from the stereos. On the TV, some programme featuring some naked dude with his private bits censored out was airing. It looked very MTV-ish. Everywhere, posters of an unidentifiable male with washboard boards hung around the bar. There were poster boards featuring major musical hits such as Les Misérables pinned on them. Outside the alfresco area, Chinese red lanterns dangled from above.

The average customer is not your Singaporean dude. Rather, it is a magnet for expatriates and Caucasians predominate the clientèle base.

We got bored after awhile because of the lack of 'action' going on. The gay crowd were rather subdued, and the only exciting ones were probably the two waiters.

We couldn't finished the drink, so we passed it over to the guys at the table to finish it for us. One looked very drunk afterwards. Another complained of feeling 'very drowsy'.

We decided to move on. Someone joked that the next bar he was going to bring us to were where we could see muscular dudes. A 10-minute walk away. However, the bar required membership passes to enter. With a thirsty desire to see how 'happening' the enclosed gay bar was, the only thing that held us back was an entrance fee of $15, and our barely there wallets.

So, we ended up hanging around atop the mountain top of Ann Siang Street, a very cool area with leave vines entwined around the wooden poles and bench areas, where we sat. Also, it provides a panoramic view of all the skyscrapers of the business districts around that area. Which one said, he 'can never ever get sick of looking at the view from here'.

Next, the eight of us went bar-hopping (or rather, bar-searching), traipsing the streets of the Tanjong Pagar area. Our next target? A lesbian bar. One male in our group got all tippy with excitement when he heard the words, 'lesbian' and 'bar'.

When we finally reached our target, a group of gay males in front of us made a feminine gesture of a pointy finger at the bouncer (man in black standing outside) and asked pointedly, 'Is this a gay bar?'

The bouncer nodded his head curtly.

However, we didn't go in straightaway. We just hung around outside. The group were like rather hesitant and apprehensive about approaching the bar. Until, finally, I was like, 'Hey, it's free anyway. So, why don't we go in and have a look?' And, so I led the way, and everyone else followed closely. You see, smartyypants is brave and courageous that way.

Since it was still too early for most clubbers (read: 10.45pm), the club was still fairly devoid of jostling human bodies. Neither were there a single soul on the dance-floor. The DJ stood admist the sound system, spinning tracks of rock music after rock music. At a corner, sat a group of young teenagers. The girls were dressed rather skimpily (read: micro-mini skirts and tight tees).

For once, I relished the background music at the first bar we went to. In here, the music is pounding, until after a while, you feel your eye-drums reverberating and you beg for silence. At least, that's what I did.

The whole group of us moved to a quieter area. The moment we sat down, a bunch of us started shrieking and rubbing their hands all over one another. Apparently, they had brushed against the curtain, and there were some residues of 'sticky viscous liquid' left behind by some previous visitors. Er....I didn't need to know what it was exactly.

We ordered two jugs of drinks, some mildly nasty stuff, which totaled up to 40 bucks. Which is nothing compared to some tertiary students who splurge on premium high-end brands that cost up to $130 a bottle.

Since there were eight of us, it meant each of us had to fork out 5 bucks. Which, again, is nothing, compared to groups of about 15 which might spend up to $3,000 a night on drinks, according to a Sunday Times report. A quick math calculation: $200 per person. 5 bucks is chicken feet.

The epitome of any bar-and-drinking session: Truth and Dare!

Pawpaw choose 'Dare', and her challenge? To get onto the tabletop and dance for 5 minutes. Which she gamely did.

Me, being the scaredy cat, almost peed my pants as the bottle swirled round and round the table, begging, pleading, begging, pleading, please don't - oh, great. The bottle was pointedly, obviously, evidently, pointing at moi.

"Truth!" I spluttered, because of my inept cowardly nature.

"Okay....who do you think is the best-looking among all the males at this table?"

OMFG!!! How do you answer such a sensitive question sensitively? So, I quickly said (ok, shouted across the table), "I don't want to offend anybody!"

Of course, they wouldn't accept such a boring answer. And, so I racked my brains. It was of course, pretty obvious, who was the most handsome guy. So, should I tell the truth, tell a lie, or just fumble over the question?

Then, Ho started showing off his non-existent muscular abs. Seizing the opportunity, I quickly pointed at him, and said, 'Him! Him!"

But, everyone was mistaken, and thought I was pointing at Eng (the guy sitting next to him). Which, was, whom I had thought to be the most handsome dude at the table in the first place.

So there. Pawpaw then muttered under her breath, 'Not surprising.'

yes. not surprising. It was like having Jude Law over to dinner and all these other nondescript males sitting around him. Get my point?

Next question. Who would you most like to kiss among all the guys at this table?

Sorry to all those expecting something juicy, my answer was blah.

"None."

"Good answer."

Ho lost next, and his challenge was to run round the chairs at the far end 5 times. He ended up doing a sexy number, making risqué posteriors, and at one point, even lifted up his shirt to flaunt his non-existent washboard abs. His next challenge was to approach any male bartender and ask for his number. Piece of cake.

The rest of the game was a blur, with CG dozing off (because the bottle never did pointed at him), me yawning away and sending smses, and everyone chugging down mouthfuls of liquor down their throat and feeling very 'hot' afterwards.

Suddenly, when I was nodding away to dreamland, Pawpaw nudged me. "Look, look!"

Just a stone's throw away from where we were seated, were two butter-yellow egg-shaped cradles. Two males were sharing one of these cradles, which is a weird thing to do in normal situations, since only girls do girly stuff like that.

From where I was seated, the only thing I could make out were two very long pair of legs clad in jeans inter-crossed against each other. I knew something exciting was going to happen.

I quickly changed seats with Pawpaw and still, I couldn't see anything beyond what I could discern from where I was seated previously.

I switched back seats, and Truth and Dare continued its run.

Halfway through sending an sms, there was a minor uproar at the table again. I looked up, only to see Pawpaw giggling, Eng looking all excited, and CG still dozing off.

"They are kissing!"

Immediately, my eyes diverted itself sideways. From my restricted view, all I could make out was this guy's head at a very high angle, so clearly, he was kissing the other dude man!

They were like totally making out! Right smack in the 'backyard' of the bar. Unsuspecting waiters walk pass, before diverting their eyes away when they realized what was going on. One gay even walked right up so that he was just inches away from the two dudes smooching, and he continued staring for ages. I think he liked what he saw.

Well, me? I got so curious, that I couldn't care less. I got up from my seat, tilted my head and body to a better angle, so that I could see more.

Which got some people in the group panicking. I was like, hey guys, what's the big deal?

Ok, for those of you curious, both gays were Malay. One played the passive role of just lying down (I couldn't make out his face at all) while the other got all touchy-feely, and I suspect, was the one who initiated the kiss.

Erm...I shan't go down to graphic details, in case some of you out there puke.

Ok, kidding! There weren't too much graphic details lah!

Actually, if you look around, this is nothing unusual. There were guys all around getting intimate with their boyfriends. Still, we are a fairly conservative Asian society, and there weren't too much risqué or raunchy action going on.

Just, in front of us, two gays couldn't keep their hands off each other. I think it was an eye-opening experience because rarely in Singapore, do you see gays displaying their affections towards each other so openly.

I think it is here where they can truly be themselves, and not having to put on an overly pretentious affectation.

We got down to spinning the bottle again. The penalty: Alcohol. The bottle turned to me again. And, I had to drink. And, when it was my turn to spin, it turned to me again. Arghhh!!

Finally, on our way out, we caught this gay couple behaving very affectionately. One of them was looking at the other lustily, and constantly brushed his body against the other, and then positioning his lips right beside the other party's ears and whispering words of erm..lust?

When we finally emerged from the bar, my face was tomato-red, and the internal heat in me was rising rapidly. Ahhh!! I made a mental note to myself to drink alcohol to keep myself warm if I ever do pursue an education in cold, wintry Australia.

On our way home, in the taxi...

smartyypants: Hey, why did you guys try to stop me just now when I wanted to get a closer look at the gays?
pawpaw: It's not very nice la, because what they are doing is actually something very private. It's not nice to look so openly. Even for normal straight couples.
smartyypants: But, you know this guy, he walked all the way right up to the gay couple, (practically right over the couple's shoulders !) and kept staring for ages!!!
pawpaw: But, that guy is a gay!
smartyypants: Oh, so you mean, gays can look. Straight people cannot la?
pawpaw: No... (pauses...thinks...) But, you're a girl!
smartyypants: And, so? (Seriously, I think this point of argument is a bit inconsequential, boys and girls are of equal status! Muahahaha...) I mean, what can they do to me?
pawpaw: Okay....and so what if they beat you up?! Moreover, they are gays! <- Gays fiercer?

smartyypants: So, what?! I scared ar?! If they beat me up, I whack them back la! <- Act macho only
pawpaw: .......

Because, you see? smartyypants is brave and courageous that way.

Afternote: Fyi, according to pawpaw, gays are some of the nicest people around.

Afternote II: Sorry, guys, I didn't take any pictures even though I brought my camera along. Because, it's not convenient at all (*3) and we are threading on sensitive ground. =(

You mean she's crying in guilt, pillows soaked in tears?

I don't understand.

Someone left a comment on my blog:

'Be kind to others for they may be fighting a harder battle than you are.'

Obviously, for you dumb-asses out there, it's clearly referring to my previous post.

The thing is, I don't get it. I seriously don't.

Are you trying to tell me that for 'stealing' my byline, her guilty conscience is tugging at her like the irritating cries of a newborn, that she's crying with guilt, having sleepless nights, feeling sorry for it, chugging up remorseful thoughts in her heart, thinking of ways to make up for it?

How else would you define 'a harder battle than you are'?

Do you even know what kind of battle I'm fighting?

Do you even know how angry I feel?

Do you even know why I'm so angry?

Do you even have a clue why I make myself into a wreckage of bitterness, going through again and again in my mind the inexhaustible list of 'What ifs?'

The truth is this:

She doesn't give a damn.

Wake up now.
You don't understand nothing.

The truth is that I'm so mad at the fact that I care so much,
and she doesn't give a damn.