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.

God makes mistakes too

The following excerpt is a teaching, either derived from God, or inspired from God.

Although some people will take advantage of our kindness, we should never be afraid to be kind since kindness will do us no harm, brings us no bitterness and cause us no regrets.

I was kind to someone, who stole my byline, brought me no harm, but lots of angst and bitterness and caused me a great deal of regret: regret for helping her secure the interview.

Why it's better to keep your mouth shut

I was together with a colleague in a lift today, when I decided to mention this to her.

"Eh, can I ask you something?
You know, my friend told me that when her teacher went to Australia,
those people over there threw water bottles at her leh!"

My colleague paused for a while, before replying:

"Yeah, it's true! You know, one of my friends, she went to Australia.
She took the public transport, and they threw orange juice on her!
Why? Because she's Chinese."

Which is why I'm can't tell you how excited I am to be going Down Under for my further education soon. In fact, I can't wait! I wish I could just hop onto a plane right now and fly over to my most favourite country in the world! No, seriously, I can't wait to have water bottles and orange juice thrown all over me. In fact, I'm so happy I'm gonna open up some champagne right now and celebrate. Yippee!

10,000 GEMs won't change any of this

What I'm about to narrate is an example of very bad service in Singapore.

Last Sunday, I made a trip down with my family to Toa Payoh, because Dad was going to buy me a new handphone. I knew vaguely what model I wanted (always the old-fashioned, outdated kind of model), so I guess then that the price was the deciding factor.

Ok, everyone knows how competitive the handphone industry is, unlike the state of monopoly SMRT reigns over us. For every two shops, the next one is a handphone shop. I'm not kidding about this, neither am I exaggerating, because I actually counted. Two shops, handphone shop. Two shops. Handphone shop. Another two shops. And another handphone shop.

The first shop we went to was a small little shop tucked in a cosy corner, away from the buzz of Toa Payoh. After that shop, we scanned the entire Toa Payoh area to find the cheapest handphone of that model.

After our search, we came to a conclusion: The first shop we went to still had the cheapest price of that particular outdated handphone model. And, so we went back.

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

It was a plump, middle-aged man that served us. He spoke articulately, and I felt his disposition pleasant enough.

My Dad then told him: "Tell me about the bad side of this handphone. I don't want to hear about the good things, just tell me the bad ones."

And, the man very patiently started listing out all the bad plus good sides of the phone. I was very very pleased at his service standards. Who says service standards in Singapore are profit-oriented? This was a man, who was clearly helpful, patient and honest enough to be truthful with us about the bad side of the handphone.

Following which, he took the pain and effort to introduce some of the better models off the shelf. Asking me which kind I prefer and which functions I were looking at, one by one, he explained the pros and cons of each handphone.

Sounds good, enough?

In the end, I decided on the initial model that I had set my eyes on.

This man, he then proceeded to take out a piece of paper and actually wrote down everything we needed to know about the phone. I really liked his service a lot, and I know my Dad is a sucker for good service standards because he always says there are so many shops of the same kind everywhere, and why should we let the rude ones earn his money? True enough, I agree that the consumer dollar shouldn't fall into the hands of the conniving, bad-tempered employee or boss.

Well, my fairytale ended faster than it began. On the very same piece of paper, he started listing out things like battery, battery charger etc. I had no idea where this was going, but by the end of his 'sales pitch', he concluded, 'The usual price for all these items is $XX. But, because it's our company's 4th year anniversary, we are selling it at a discounted rate that you can't get anywhere else. I'm offering you $XX for all these items.'

My mind as usual works at the speed of a snail crawling. So, I was thinking to myself, "Hey, great deal! I want to buy it!" But, Dad outright rejected his 'sales-talk' and said, 'What for? Why would we need to buy an extra battery and blah blah blah for...we've been doing fine without it for our old handphones blah blah blah..."

Meanwhile, the words such as '4th year anniversary', 'special offer' and 'discounted' were swirling in my mind, and I thought Dad was being a fool for not grabbing such a great deal by the throat, but just letting it sneak away like a fugitive.

The man then tried persuading my Dad, saying, "We are humans mah, sometimes lazy, charge overnight, scared the handphone inside will spoilt mah..So at least if you buy a second battery, you can alternate between the two."

He then took out three examples of batteries that he claimed were returned to him by customers. One was bloated. He then proceeded to say, "See? All these are given to me by customers. That's the risk you take when you charge your whole handphone together with the battery. But, by buying this separate battery charger, it will defuse all the unused energy inside first before charging it from start. This way, your battery will last longer."

"Wow!" I thought to myself. "Sounds great!" This is the elixir must-have for any handphone!

After much persuasive sales talk (which all goes to waste immediately when used on my Dad because he's a businessman himself, heh), my Dad was as obstinate as a mule, saying, 'No.' Finally, out of exasperation, the man said, 'Sir, buy one from me lah!" Was he whining? "Help me lah, buy one!"

My Dad rubbed his tummy and shook his head.

The man finally relented. After that, his attitude did a 180 degrees somersault that would put even Cirque Du Soleil to shame. His whole face turned black, and he continued serving us with a half-hearted attitude. The twitch tugging at the sides of his lips never left.

I could feel the whole atmosphere hardened between the one trying to push sales and the one who refused to buy it.

Finally, it was clear that we just wanted the phone. Period. The man took out a calculator, punched in some numbers and then said, "Ok, $XX dollars for the handphone, plus GST, so that amounts to a total sum of $XX."

Ok, the amount actually added up to a sum that made it one of the more expensive ones of the same handphone model out of all the shops that we scanned through.

My Dad was taken aback. He'd bought countless handphones in his life, and he has never once heard that you have to pay GST for a handphone.

The man tried to justify the additional GST charge, attributing it to his small shop front.

Pity for him my Dad wasn't about to be taken in. "No, no, no...Where got handphone got GST one??! No such thing lah..." My Dad then displayed a very dimissive attitude, waving his hands and backing away, as though coercing the employee into silent compliance.

Waive the fee. Period.

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

I've been with my Dad on so many trips where we purchase big items, handphones, computers, cameras blah blah blah.

When it comes to this point, you know what every stall owner or employee will do?

"Ok, waive the fee." This is what they will always say. Sometimes, they consult their bosses and the boss says, "Waive for him, waive for him," shrugging their shoulders dismissively. One even said 'Waived the fee' and served us drinks.

These are smart bosses, I say, who understand the business of not short-changing oneself by nit-picking on small amounts of cash when there is a whole treasure trove waiting to enter into their pockets.

The logic is easy enough. Give up this, in exchange for something bigger, instead of losing the whole deal altogether. Of course, this logic is exceptional in cases of monopoly.

Well, this man, he stood his ground and said the fee cannot be waived and that GST is a MUST to pay. Again, tempers silently fused. Now, on retrospective, I swear the man did it ON PURPOSE! He added in the GST charge because we REFUSED to buy the additional items from him.

Finally, the man turned to his boss/another employee, and gestured with his eyes. 'Eh, how like that?' His eyes said. The other man replied with a shrug of his head.

Following which, the man took the handphone and its contents OFF THE COUNTER AND PROMPTLY PLACED IT BACK ON THE SHELF.

My brain didn't have time to react. But, I was like WTH is this man trying to do?!! Apparently, the message the two men were trying to convey to us were: Pay the GST or you can forget about getting your handphone.

WTF!!!!!!

After much eye-exchanging between the two men and my Dad still, I think, reeling from the shock, the other man finally said coolly:

"Sir, it's alright. You haven't pay the money yet what. The stock (gestures to handphone on shelf) is still with us, and your money (gestures towards Dad) is still with you. So, it's okay one. Not say you pay the money already what, then it's different. You haven't, money still with you, stock still with us."

He paused, as though trying to sum up his thoughts, then finally added, "No use because of this GST then argue."

WTF!!!!! How absurd can!!! GOT PEOPLE DO BUSINESS LIKE THAT ONE AH, IT'S A WONDER THEIR SHOP HASN'T CLOSED DOWN OR SOMETHING.

Not to mention that all their employees looked like they just graduated from The School of Gangsters. Acing all their modules with excellent grades, which come in weird names such as 'The Art of Staring" or "How to Beat People Up Effectively".

And, hands-on theory would be for them to pick on a kid during lunchtime and bash him or her up. The one responsible for the dead kid then graduates with Honours.

Now, wait a minute, at that point in time, all the above didn't strike my mind. I was then thinking, 'Oh shit! Dad, faster tell them you will pay the GST lah, I don't think it's a lot anyway! I want my phone!"

They were playing mind games with us. And, like the innocent naive teenager that I am, my mind was sucked into all their sales talk whatsoever, going through a thorough cleansing routine and believing all that propaganda talk.

And, hor! They are a small shop what, no reputation to uphold like those bigger handphone conglomerates like SingTel, StarHub or M1, they like say what then say what lor! Customer kena koto left right centre also don't know.

I really thought that Dad was thinking the same thing as me. I really thought that he was embarrassed by the whole scene and that he would say, 'Ok lah, ok lah!' then he would take out the money from his wallet and pay them out of goodwill.

And, they would be laughing inside and probably high-five each other the moment we are out of sight, but whatever as long as I got my phone.

Also, I was worried that all this hoo-ha would siphon into something terribly awkward. I was ready to give in, if anything, to soothe any frayed nerves.

I'm glad that Dad has so much more sense than me. I must have eaten pig's brain for lunch or something, or maybe I just have a pig brain all along. Dad walked out of the stall, and we all followed behind him quietly. Meanwhile, I could feel invisible daggers behind my back.

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

We barely took twenty steps before we bumped into an M1 shop, just around the corner. We got the phone 10 dollars cheaper, hooray! Most importantly, we (Ok, my Dad) didn't make ourselves into a mockery by giving in to those two stupid men psycho-ing us.

Now that I see things clearer (not say I stupid lah, only my brain works 10 times slower than others which means, eh i'm stupid hor?), I say all that business talk about company anniversary and items on discounted prices are baloney.

What if it were a tourist, with no prior knowledge of the local handphone industry (prices and stuff), and had not had any initiative to conduct some market research by asking around first, and that shop was the first that he or she stepped into? They would most probably have been conned by the people from that shop!

After the whole horrible episode, my Dad said, "What for want to pay that extra money?"

I replied, "No, Dad. What for they want to throw away a good business?"

THESE PEOPLE ARE FUCKING STUPID CAN.

But, what irks me most was the horrible customer service I received.

And, that's why I say 10,000 GEMs (it's a campaign to promote courtesy in the service industry) won't do a fuck to change matters.

I REALIZED IN LIFE NO MATTER HOW MUCH HARD WORK YOU PUT IN,
NO MATTER HOW MANY MOUNTAINS YOU SCALE,
NO MATTER WHAT LENGTHS YOU GO TO,
NO MATTER HOW MUCH YOU WISH HOPE WANT TO,
A GIRL WITH CLEAVAGE AND LIPSTICK CAN 'STEAL' IT ALL AWAY.

Ok, what prompted the above paragraph this time round?
I saw the hard copy.
Last time was the soft copy.
ROAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
VERY ANGRY CAN!!!!

The following is an excerpt from the book
"Dumbing Down our Kids" by Charles Sykes.
I've narrowed it down to two quotes I've found really useful and insightful.

RULE 1
Life is not fair - get used to it.

RULE 11
Be nice to nerds.
Chances are you'll end up working for one.

Now, like a true genius spoken. Don't you think that RULE 11 is very insightful??? Therefore, everyone, please be nice to me. For example, if you decide to 'steal' my article, kindly include my byline please, thank you very much.

Or else, at least have the basic courtesy to let me know in advance, so at least I can whack you in the head or something. You know, to make up for all the anger I would later suffer when I see whatever I'd be better off not seeing.

Actually, smacking you on the head wouldn't be enough, I think I'd probably not resort to violence and say something like, 'The photocopier in my workplace is even sexier than you."

Work is the absence of social life

twelve things about work:

ONE It's not my kind of office. Everyone is so nice and helpful. Where are all the bitches when I need one to make my office life more interesting??!!!!! ROAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!

TWO Two days into my work and I was bored. Reason: See above.

THREE I can NEVER seem to be on time. I've been working for the past two weeks, and I've only been punctual or early on two counts, even though if you make a trip down to Bugis at 9am every morning, you will see a girl running like crazy. That's me. You see, I RUN and still LATE. Work starts at 9am. The good thing is there are no teachers waiting in the office to scold you. Nope. Only bosses waiting to smack you in the head.

FOUR My workplace is all the way at Paya Lebar. This is why I must protest that the above deserves to be forgiven. I know what you are thinking. What am I doing in Bugis at 9am when work starts at 9am and my office is in Paya Lebar right??!!!

FIVE First, I was told my work stint duration would be up to me. I can choose between 1 to 3 months. Then, two weeks into work, my boss came up to me and said, "Monday will be your last day." Monday came. And, Boss said, "Friday will be your last day." Friday came. And, Boss said, "Next Friday will be your last day." Next Friday came and...well, I don't know what happened when next Friday came because it hasn't yet. Stay tuned for updates.

SIX I can't help NOT falling asleep in the office. It's a vicious cycle, you see. Because I know I have to be up and early the next morning and report to work, so at night I try to stay up as long as possible to do my own stuff. Even the reminder of WHAT happened at my last workplace when I dozed off and promptly placed my head on the table could do NOTHING to stop me from nodding off. (Note: Some bitch told on me.)

SEVEN Whenever I nod off, I eat chocolates. Ten nod-offs, and ten chocolates goes into my mouth. The first day I used them as my anti-sleeping pills, I ended up with a sore throat even before I knocked off from work. I've smartened up since. I either increase my caffeine intake or just let myself doze off. I always believe it is bad to resist sleep, it can do some damage to your health. Or your psychological well-being.

EIGHT I like Boss. She has never-ending work for me to do. =)))

NINE I realized that my office wardrobe choices are black, blue, white and grey. It's true! Even though we are allowed to wear T-shirts and jeans, but my jeans are always blue, and my T-shirt is always black, blue, white or grey. I've never ever once worn anything outside of those colours. Okay, except that time I wore the green outfit. But, only once.

I still remember in my last workplace, the first time I wore that green outfit, everyone was so surprised and shocked. 'Har, you are actually wearing something that is not black or white??!!!' Yes, muted colours fit my skin tones you see, I look like a freaking stuffed turkey in almost any other colour.

Every single freaking time I open up the wardrobe, my hand always reaches out for the most convenient choices, anything that are those four colours. I remember in one of my last workplace, I kept wearing the same freaking blue outfit that once someone commented to my colleague, 'Is that her uniform?' And, my colleague was at a loss for words, because you see, there is not uniform and we are allowed to wear our own clothes!

TEN I don't have my own desk. I sit on whoever desk that the person is on MC or urgent leave. This is also why sometimes I can't help but feel so appreciated. Once, I came into the office and no one that I knew was on urgent leave. So, I had to take a stool and sit at a corner all by myself, cursing under my breath, while waiting for my supervisor to arrive. Until, finally, a colleague chanced upon me and said, 'Oh, so poor thing!' and invited me over to her oasis which she termed her 'little cosy corner'.

Right now, I'm currently sitting on my colleague Wendy's desk. She's been on leave for the past three days. And, everytime I come in, she has all these gifts strewn all over her desk from various colleagues, with Post-It notes writing little cute messages like 'TGIF!' Man, she's like the popular cheerleader around here or something; a very cute petite girl with a high pitch, shrilly voice which some may find irritating (ahem) . Just today, I counted at least five or six little gifts on her table, given over the past few days. There were three new ones today. I saw a sweet basket, strawberry cookies, chocolates, one candle burner, and today, one Hershey's chocolate bar propped against her keyboard. And, yet, my supervisor's desk remains suspiciously empty. Hmm....

Also, when I first came into the office, I was the ONLY temp staff without internet access. I suspect someone told on me or something. I mean, how else would they know my motive was to log onto MSN and chat with friends?

ELEVEN Whenever I transform into a cubicle rat the moment I step into the office, I can't help thinking that this is NOT what I want. And, then start wishing that I was in the Iraq War zone, risking life and limb, reporting on the latest updates on the war.

TWELVE I'm dead serious about No. ELEVEN.

我真的很想哭，但觉得自己好没用！

我好朋友曾经跟我说：'生命中小小的委屈与挫折，是为了档住生命中大大的灾难。要是没有那些事情发生，你就不会还站在这里跟我说话。'

我真的很想无视眼前的一切挫折，因为我很清楚的知道我的问题，我的所有烦恼都是毫不起眼的小事，根本不必大费周章对生命有任何的埋怨。我也很清楚明白有烦恼就代表我还活着，还是有呼吸，脉搏跳动的痕迹，我还是幸福的。

哈哈，之前的文字只不过是个美丽的误会。我根本就是一个懦夫，并没有太大的勇气去面对。但是，我刚刚读完了一编感人肺腑的文章。文章里描写的是一个只不过二十岁就得承担失去两个好朋友男孩的痛苦。我这才意视到生命的脆弱与宝贵。不，应该说是这样的理论一直徘徊在我脑海的潜移深处。只是我做人太沉迷于自己了 （又有谁不是？〕，而太执著于自己的问题了，没办法把自己井底之蛙的理念抛到九霄云外，放眼看这个世界。用最简单，单纯的视眼去看这个复杂的世界。

最后我想说的是：文字写得多好，多五彩缤纷，也是需要观众的，而被受到瞩目也是使文字活生生起来的因素，不然它也只不过是一个尸体。

…………………………………………

A friend of mine once told me, 'The purpose of small obstacles and stumbling blocks in life are to insulate you from the bigger misfortunes in life. If those things didn't happen, you wouldn't still be standing here talking to me.'

I really feel like blinding myself to all the obstacles in my life right now. Because, it's palpable that all my problems are simply minuscule compared to the bigger things in life, and it's not worth a nuance of my effort to magnify my predicament. It's also unambiguous to say that by worrying, it means I still have a pulse, I'm still alive. And, that in itself, should be the biggest fortune bestowed upon me right now. The gift of life.

Haha, the above paragraph is just a beautiful misunderstanding. Because, the truth is, I'm just a weakling, I don't have the courage to face anything. But, I just finished reading a poignant piece of article, with its razor-sharp details of the pain and distress accumulated. In it, a 20-year-old boy talks about the pain of losing two close friends. I then glimpsed the fragility of life. Or should I say, that I've always known it all along? But, I've always been too self-absorbed and obstinate in my own problems (who isn't?), unable to rid myself of my 'frog-in-the-well' ideology, to see the world with bigger eyes (not, literally). To view this complicated world with the most innocent eyes.

The last thing I want to say is this: No matter how beautifully crafted an article is, a good article will always be defined by an audience. The spotlight of the audience is what breathes life and meaning into these words. Otherwise, it's just a string of alphabets pieced together.

Life's a bitch

The dark skies doesn't seem to be clearing anytime soon.

If anything, it's just gotten darker.

No wonder it rained cats and dogs today. The weather is a perfect indication of my mood. It was pouring buckets, and I kept stepping into puddles of waters because my mind was just too overcast like the inky skies above to give a damn. There was thunder and lightning, a perfect punctuation to my mood, God seemed to be mourning for me, and what can I say? Life's a bitch.

I went back to school today. Totally took one-day leave off to settle some matters, back at school. The end result was very, very disappointing. I kept having to plead with her, but she refused adamantly. Did her attitude have to be so nasty then? She seemed so unfriendly, I couldn't even speak to her without stumbling over my words, with her fierce glare fixated upon me.

I guess this is what happens when you try to take matters into your own hands, it bites you right where it most hurts. I've learned a helluva lot from this lesson: it had so many repercussions, so many consequences that didn't cross my mind before I went ahead to do it.

If I had ONE more chance, just ONE, I wished I can turn back time and not be a smart-Aleck. Wanting to rise to fame fast, taking whatever chances I could, without considering the consequences of my reckless decisions.

I've really learned a lot the past week. Two major things, especially.

1. Things are stated in black and white for a reason.

2. Take the proper route that everyone else takes.

My mind right now is like a four-way road crossing. Very messy, very diverted, I don't know which way to go now. I don't know what to do to make up for my own mistakes, a raging, gaping blaze of agony trailing behind me just because of me and my stupid mentality.

And, I have myself, and only myself to blame.

I really wished I had followed the rules, damnit! Did it really matter to me so much that I had to lie to get my way? Ok, I didn't actually lie, but I went ahead to do it without first consulting the proper personnel or going through the proper channels.

It's times like this when you start questioning yourself whether it was truly worth it. My brain, the practical and realistic part inside me says, 'No.' But my heart, the emotional and highly idealistic alter-ego of me, says, 'Yes'.

I really want to get ahead, but I don't know what to do now.

I'm in a dilemma, and my reputation is on the chopping board, it will be the first thing to be sacrificed.

God, save me.

the blunt truth.

I was shocked when I first read what he wrote.

Then, later awe and pleasant surprise struggled for dominance in me.

It was the most HONEST blog entry EVER, and that is what you will never expect from an artiste.

Honest, yet poignant and heart-wrenching at the same time.

You see, in his blog entry, this artiste stated that someone mentioned to him,

'What you are selling is your face, NOT your music."

It comes as a surprise that according to the artiste, he expressed shock at this person's statement, which is shocking in itself because it's so bloody true, and either he's simply ignorant or too deluded to accept the truth.

Later, he went on to say that he should have been outraged at the implication that he was just a good face to look at, with completely no substance...but he said that he found himself at a loss for words. 'Was my silence a consensus?' he lamented in his blog.

I think for any budding or full-fledged artiste, the most hurtful remark is that one is growing popular solely because of his or her looks, and has no musical talent to back up his or her popularity.

I mean, if the artiste has BOTH looks + musical talent, it's more acceptable and he or she will be more willing to reconciliate the fact that yes, their looks help to sell albums, but hey, look, we have talent and substance too and is not just an empty shell that has flowery package to cover up the fact that they have no talent.

Well, I would really really like to speak up for this artiste, especially after his VERY heart-wrenching blog article. But, the fact is, this particular artiste is growing popular BECAUSE of his looks. And, so far, he hasn't proven his musical talent. Not saying that he has NO musical talent, but rather than saying he's a singer, he's much MORE of a looker...people buy albums because of his LOOKS.

It's true. No matter whatever trash music the artistes produces, the fans will still continue buying multiple copies of their albums if they think, 'Ohhhh, he's so cute!'

No more is music just purely a voice that can take your breath away. Fussy consumers are getting more superficial, they would rather support a CUTE face than a GOOD voice.

Think about it this way. If it is REALLY all about the voice, why does Mandarin pop singers today have to be flowery packaged? Why do they have to be molded into a certain personality type? It is so that consumers can identify them to a certain character, and it's easier to sell albums that way.

Ok, let's talk about a certain record company...H.I.M

For those initiated, H.I.M is well known for recruiting good-lookers. I'm not saying anything, but S.H.E is not exactly the best singers around, but they have three very cute and pretty girls. Same with Fahrenheit, four poster boys.

The point I'm trying to make here is...look where are S.H.E and Fahrenheit on the popularity charts? It proves that H.I.M's strategy is a sure-fire success...LOOKS come before TALENT.

Ok, then I would like to make another BUT here.

BUT I notice that the trend is slowly changing today. We have not very good-looking people who are gaining popularity because of their MUSICAL talent. They write, compose, produce, sing their own songs. Not necessarily the best-looking people around, the average dude on the street probably looks better than them, BUT most importantly, they have TALENT.

Ok...so as I said before, LOOKS come before TALENT in the Mandarin pop industry, which is true. Those good-lookers shoot to red-hot burning fame immediately after their debut, but those with REAL musical talent have to slowly make their way up the popularity charts.

Because looks are immediately apparent and much more accessible, meaning people will more likely take notice of your music if you have a poster-worthy mug to boost. Those average-looking dudes with real musical talent have to gain popularity through their talent alone, and it's a slower process. But, chances are, their fame will last longer.

Back to the artiste I mentioned.

I applaud his courage for daring to speak up. It was like risking his rice bowl to publicly admit that hey, it may all be due to my good looks. And, how many artistes you know really have the courage to admit that?

NONE.

I've read countless (understatement) interviews with celebs asking that million-dollar questions.

"Why do you think you are popular?" or "What is it about you that you think attracts your fans to you?"

Every celeb always give the same boring, trained and superficial answer.

"Oh, I think it's because of my friendly and sincere personality, that warms fans up to me!"

How many would actually be brutally honest enough to say, "Oh, I think it is my good looks that attract them to me!" Not exactly career suicide, but they will probably get a harsh warning from their record company.

Besides, people will probably go, 'Eeeee, so hao lian (proud, arrogant)!'

Humility is also very important in an artiste, people like a down-to-earth celeb.

So, this artiste went on to say that he worked so hard at honing his craft, his vocals for the past two years, then rather helplessly poked fun at himself by saying...

'In fact, none of this actually mattered. because all that matters is my 'face' and all my hard work turned out to be for nothing. I never thought that the final result would be this. Should I be happy or should I cry?*'.

He also mentioned this:

"Human beings are creatures that are so often focused on the outer beauty that they forget to probe further into the subject matter. Are all these seemingly perfect exteriors just mere sugar-coated artificiality? The real things that breathes meaning into life, that brings vibrancy into life have long been forgotten by human beings ...*"

Well, very unfortunately, this very same artiste together with his fellow groupmates was recently pinpointed by a very important figure in the media entertainment industry that they are all looks, and no substance.

It whipped up a storm and a huge outcry among fans who cried foul. He referred these artistes as "good to look, but of no use." And, also, likened them to inflated dolls. "When it's being inflated, it is nice to look at. But, once it is deflated, the whole thing collapses".

Besides flaunting their looks, another trend has recently gained foothold in the industry. I'm talking about girls exposing their flesh, challenging boundaries and burgeoning into the lustful minds of young teenage guys everywhere in an international conspiracy consisting a mass flash parade of female Mandarin artistes today.

Two to three years ago, Jolin Tsai said that exposing a little bit more flesh was alright for her, 'but when I talk about flesh, I mean the legs and arms, not other places!'

Today, her boobs are all over the place.

* All translations by me, original article in Chinese.

burnt.

Then, I discovered the difference between illusion and reality
and I'm beginning to lose my faith...

I didn't see it coming. All along, I thought that whatever I did was right. If I wanted something, I would go all out to get it. But, that doesn't mean I will stop at no bounds. If it is beyond my means, then fine, I will let it go. I won't be insistent, even if I am persistent at times. But, now, I realized I try so hard, and what did I get in return?

Maybe it's time to let go...

I didn't see it coming. It was a harsh scolding, and my mind didn't have time to react. Yet, I didn't want her to take my silence as acquiescence. Despite the riot of emotions, I had only one thought in mind: Don't apologise. No matter what I do, I must NEVER apologise because this is not my fault. Even though I was tempted, yes I was, on many counts, to say, "I'm sorry", but the words couldn't come out. I knew that those two simple words could probably erase some of the 'chaos' I've created, but I couldn't bring myself to say it, because I didn't know how to say it while meaning it.

Was it polite? Was it harsh? Was it controlled temper? No matter what, the silent fuse burning at the other end of the line was very much evident, I'm sure. I could see that she was trying her very best not to flare up, yet the words came out so harsh. And, then the insults. Where do I even begin?

At parts during the conversation, I was so choked I hardly could speak. I only managed a, "Yes, I understand. I understand."

But, the truth is, I DON'T! I FREAKING DON'T!

Am I being greedy? Asking for too much?

And, you claim that you treat me like a professional. But, your words hint otherwise. What I couldn't take the most was you INSINUATING THAT I WAS NOT BEING PROFESSIONAL AS A REPORTER.

Yes, there are guidelines to follow in the media industry. I understand. But, I don't think my actions warrant such a harsh scolding. I just did everything I could because I wanted to procure it.

Since you didn't agree to one, I had no choice but to take matters into my own hands. I refused to give up, and that is why I did what I did.

I'm glad that admist all that scolding, my mind was clear enough to point out that I've done the same with other companies, and they weren't so anal about it.

If you really treated me as a professional instead of an amateur, I'm sure the scolding wouldn't even have existed. Seriously, I don't know how the media industry in Singapore works! After this, I'm even more sure that if I ever had a choice, I'll never return to Singapore if I wanted a career in the media, people are either too bitchy or too anal.

It's a small industry right? Will I get blacklisted? Whatever.

Rules are made by people!
If I can, I'll be the first to change them.

I can't even express how disillusioned I am today. I'm even thinking maybe I'm not cut out for the media industry, and might like to stick to being a cubicle rat.

I can't stand the thought of
being just another face in the crowd

poseurs and their cobwebs of lies

Banner of idol's big poster face put together after many days? Check. Priority queue tickets? Check. Album? Check. Kids? Check. Check. Check.

Well, it sure seems like mothers' newest accessory that comes handy during any autograph or meet-the-fans sessions are - nope, not umbrellas, fans or water bottles - but KIDS. Yes, you heard me right. KIDS.

I would like to specifically pinpoint a certain mother who never fails to being along her BABY to the promotional activities of Taiwanese male artistes and boy bands.

Well, nothing wrong with bringing your baby. Even more nothing wrong with carrying your baby while queuing in line for three lengthy hours waiting to get your album signed by your idol(s). Nothing wrong that you are the only one in the queue carrying an additional wailing/screaming human being in your arms, and trying to pacify him by cooing to him 'O-McDonalds Had A Farm...'

There's absolutely nothing wrong with the mother's actions in all the above. Even if there's anything vaguely out of place, it surely doesn't burgeon into territories which affect other people around her.

What's wrong is that this very wise mum used her son as the 'passport' to gain rights to request for a photo taken with her idols.

Usually, the DJs present at the event are also taken in by this deceit spun through sympathy rights, unsuspecting DJs therefore unknowingly get manipulated by the cobwebs of lies and deceit.

They will normally say something like this as a form of persuasion, 'Can anot, (insert celeb's name)...This mum...who has been queuing up for hours in the hot, hot sun with her baby...very tiring, it's not easy...She requests to take a photo, is that alright with you?'

Usually, the celeb will politely, or rather forced to, oblige. Sometimes, this 'star baby' even appears in the media!!!

This is not right! Using your baby to manipulate celebs into taking a picture with you is NOT right.

This particular mother has, more than ONCE, used the very SAME baby BOY to get her mug or picture taken with the male celebs, and some have even been published.

Then, just some time ago, I attended a concert of a famous Taiwanese artiste. Halfway through the performance, she started giving away posters to the audience.

Well, this little girl who was seated in the front row, walked ALL THE WAY in front of the stage (just so to make sure she's conspicuous enough), and started bawling her eyes out!

She wanted the poster, and this was her way of getting it. Instead of shush-ing her up, her parents seemed to egg her on by their acquiescence. It appears that the parents' thinking were, 'If that crying can get her the poster, then by all means, do it!'

Expectedly enough, the artiste pityingly cooed, 'Oh, she's crying...' before walking closer to the girl and passing the poster to her.

The girl went back to her seat, pleased at her prized possession. But, I wasn't very pleased with her means of getting it. It's just not fair.

Well, anyway, guess what happened next? Not only did the parents encourage their child's act, it seems the media too!

A member of the media actually approached the young girl to have her picture taken with the poster. Oh, the irony of it all!

I'm positive the tagline for the picture wouldn't be anywhere near the lines of 'This little girl cried and got her poster.' More like, 'Oh, (insert star's name) has fans as young as 8, proof that her charm doesn't have any boundaries on age! This girl as young as 8 to a grand-father/mother of 80 years old also cannot escape her charm.'

And, what were the parents doing? Coercing their daughter to smile for the camera, and then standing beside her, smiling like proud parents, as though their daughter has just been awarded the Nobel Prize!

I say, blah to all the poseurs all there.