I had a bit of a reputation for being a dilettante. I did take some aspects of my work and personal relations seriously, however, I did not quite take life in general rather seriously.I had a bit of an undeserved reputation for being rather too flighty with my relationship with the female of the species. At least, that's the way I'd put it.It wasn't that I was being a Casanova (goodness, I don't have the look or physique for it) or that I set out to hit a magic target with regards to the number of conquests (since I really don't have any such fantastic ability). I can charm the socks off a capybara. That is if capybaras wore socks.And since capybaras do not wear socks, all this means that I generally go around irritating and annoying others until I happen to get lucky or they punch me. Even with a ratio of one success to a hundred failures, I do get a few people who like me. Men, women and the few dogs and cats. And some things get accomplished by sheer good fortune, like motivating a bunch of NSFs to really really hate me for trying to make things better. Imagine me, getting called a motherfucker behind my back! Atrocious and frankly, rather amusing. I like pissing people off.Anyway, the point of changing partners in my misspent youth was so that I could find someone with A) Elle Macpherson's body B) Linda Evangelista's nose C) Gong Li's poise D) the effervescence of Scarlet Johansson E) brains of Mira Sorvino F) with the unattainability of Zhang Ziyi G) and the patience of Mother Theresa. Not a lot to ask for, right?Then life taught me that to truly enjoy life itself, I had to stop dreaming and start living. It didn't mean giving up my dreams, it just meant that I had to start looking for in reality.And so I decided to forsake my lofty dreams and found that life offered better than dreams. I thought i would be trading in my happiness, instead I found happiness. Life isn't about having it all just right. It is instead about getting it all right. There's a difference.Now I am happy to have found someone and to be with A) the two bodies within one B) a nose for finding things out C) the stoicism that I agree with D) the curiosity of a cat E) brains and wits that never disappoint me F) who I can call mine and to whom I belong G) she does have the patience of Mother Theresa. That is good, since patience is the mother of all virtue.I have never thought of it as lowering my expectations. Since, to be really frank, I am now happier than I've been before. I am continually surprised by how awesome she is at some stuff. That is called exceeding my expectations.In other words, sometimes, if you sit back and reflect, you can count your blessings and thank the heavens for them. I'm really glad that things have worked out as well as they have. I do thank my lucky stars.Hey, I may be annoying, irritating and all that, but I'm luckier than many. Some internet sleuth had managed to find some guy who took some shots of what we were up to in recent days.Ah... the wonders of the internet.http://keropokman.blogspot.com/2008/08/heli-evac-exercise.htmlOn another note, I'm glad we got a medal to finally get that monkey off our collective national backs. Well done, I watched the match against the Koreans and those girls deserved that big fat bonus. Drama till the end. Great entertainment. Now, all we need is for Liverpool to win the Premier League title.As for the Prime Minister's Speech, he was at least smart enough to delay his English broadcast since nobody would be listening otherwise. let's hear what he has to say and then we can judge his words and worth at a later time. Say, this day, next year. I do suspect that I'd be disappointed and disgruntled again. The opening ceremony of the Olympics was really something else. Directed by Zhang Yimou, it was really quite the spectacle. Of course, one also must have the budget that the Chinese government threw at it.I did not even bother to turn on the TV for Singapore's National Day Parade, which in my opinion has mutated into Ruling Party Day.So, I've been catching the Oylmpic programmes and I must say that I am quite taken by fencing. I like the saber the best. And Zhong Man of China has just beaten the Frenchman to take the fencing gold. Which just gives me further ammunition to hurl at The Annoying French Man.I guess this is one of those times when it isn't so bad to be in the Chinese race. My unit called me up on Monday. They had apparently forgotten to issue me the SAF 100 for my reservist ICT which began on said Monday.I agreed to go down, because they hit my soft spot. They appealed to my pride and vanity.They had another exercise on, whereupon a professional media crew had been engaged to film the job that our newly operational squadron does. And so they decided to pick me and a specialist in emergency medicine.I know I'm so vain, but it feels got to be acknowledged as competent right? Contradictions and Incoherence. Firstly, I will admit that I do hold racist views. I do believe that to a different degrees, all of us are racist. Because each race is different, each culture evolved differently, and we do look different.Next, I will admit to having elitist views. I do believe that I am better than the majority in quite a few aspects. Many may fix plumbing better than I do, but I can do a passable job in that respect. However, I think I can comfortably breeze past in discussions of Classical philosophy, history and politics. Whereas, many may come to stuttering halt when asked about the Democrats’ New Hampshire primary. (Is it a school in the US?)Even if they know about it, they wouldn’t form an informed opinion about it. (Not my problem what. Doesn’t affect me.) Well, let’s see if you can say that when your firm, which has invested heavily in China, reacts if the next US Presidential Administration totally revokes China’s MFN status. (Actually that debate is pretty moot, since China has joined the WTO and is holding the US dollar hostage.)Having put forth all the above little disclaimers, I will now tell you the content may be offensive and not politically correct, since I believe that political correctness leads to a suppression of a diversity of properly based views, to our stupid culture of fear, to where opinions and articles have been watered down into this sterile blandness. So the basic idea runs that you offend no one by saying nothing in essence. After all, if you call people mentally handicapped, it helps them to be less retarded. Right? (I would prefer to help retarded children; mentally handicapped kids, to me, seem to be a result of bad parenting.)Anyway, while in Russia, and elsewhere, I have seen the deplorable behaviour of quite a few idiots from the Chinese race. And they make me ashamed to be Chinese, so much so, that I tried to disassociate myself from them by speaking English loudly. Perhaps, the terms Mongoloid would be better, because I wanted to be disassociated with Koreans, Taiwanese, PRC Chinese, Hong Kongers, and Singaporeans. Because these people were behaving badly. They were either inconsiderately smoking in designated non-smoking areas, obnoxiously loud, bloody rude, or just behaving like general morons who make me wonder why they even bother to travel to certain countries. I mean I can dig going to Hong Kong, Tokyo or New York for shopping. Why bother to go to Russia, when you can ignore the tour guide who’s trying to explain history to you and just run off so that you can take a group photo? And you block and entire passage to take group photos. In the museums, all you care to do is scoot around taking pictures of the Da Vincis, the Rembrandts, and the other famous portraits. Well, and why should one stop this mad running around to stand in front of the piece and take it in. I have the photo don’t I? Besides, I have to go and take pictures of the other masterpieces. Whee… Then everyone will know that I’ve been here and there. I can smoke my way through explanations. It’s really easy to pretend that I know all these things, because the other idiots wouldn’t be able to tell if I’m lying. Guess what, because, they don’t know too!So, you don’t care for the history and wouldn’t care less for the culture. That picture has just about as much value as one in which your image was photoshopped in. Because that’s how much you took away, and grew from the experience. Little enough.The ironic thing is that about the only East Asians that haven't really pissed me off are the Japanese. Which is why there is a lot that I like about them. World War II was a mistake, but everyone makes those. They seem to have learnt from it. Which is more than I can say for other people and their mistakes. One may not need to acknowledge their mistake publicly, however, they do need to learn from it and correct it. Still, men seem to ignore the lessons of history time and time again.What's the use of a knowledge base, if it isn't accessed, reflected upon, adapted to the needs, and then built upon? Just like how the Chinese people have missed out on their ancient advancements and just stagnated.I am proud to be a Chinese. I make no bones about it. There are cultured and mannered Chinese. Chinese civilisation stretches back into history and at an early point, we were already technologically advanced relative to the West. We lost the edge. They caught up and bypassed the East. Now, English is the lingua franca for world business. In fact, it is the language in which I am most proficient and fluent. My Mandarin is passable but I can't wield it with quite the same proficiency as English.So it does disturb me when I have to disassociate myself from other Chinese. I am disgusted enough by their behaviour that I consciously speak what is clearly English and avoid reverting to any dialect or Mandarin. In fact, I had this ugre to utter French phrases to further distance myself from these badly behaved specimens.Sometimes, it is just so annoying when you see these people with negative social graces, brains that are no better off than deadweight. And you wonder, what is society coming to? They are not bad people. By no means are they evil. They commit no vile acts of villiany. Yet I would quite brutally consign them to be excuted along with serial killers. Eugenics does bear some benefits. The Spartans got over the ethical considerations, and they are in legend. Bad example, you could probably bring up others to counter it. And they would be just as valid. It's just that I think our children deserve a more considered upbringing. If you teach them young, there's every chance they will achieve a happier live than you."The meek shall inherit the earth." Would they? Why should they? Thus far, it hasn't been shown so. They just get mowed over when some strongman takes over, or herded and used like cattle when a wily politician sways them. I do not see the meek inheriting any earth is Singapore. Because the government can take back your HDB anytime it wants to. Just declare SERS. And the meek do not own the freehold land. So, too bad.Could it be that beacuse we protect those who commit acts of wilful stupidity, that these acts persist and continue?If there is nothing that I achieve, I shall at the very least teach my children bloody manners, to think and use their god-given brains, love, get over misery and heartbreaks, have dignity and integrity. To teach them to live well, to realise that happiness goes, but it comes again.And again, to have bloody manners. If I fail in all else, they must still have manners. My apple took this particularly breath-taking shot of the Church of the Spilled Blood. I know there are those who would say this shot is damn post card, but I like post card pics, as long as they move me. At St. Petersburg... At bloody fucking last... I was so glad to have finally arrived. 2 hours from SIN to BKK, and then 9 hours from BKK to DOM. Then a bloody 2 hour wait to buy the train tickets and then an hour wait to board the train before the 8 hour train ride to get here.I lost count at the train station when the woman at the only counter selling express train tickets put up a sign in Cyrilic, proceeded to open her thermos flask and eat her sandwich, adamantly ignoring everyone who were patiently queueing. Without so much as by your leave. I have never felt so flipped off.Not even if a girl I was trying to catch the eye of pretended that I was made out of glass. The Russians made you feell worse. Not just a piece of glass, but an inconsequential piece of glass. All because you can't speak Russian. Which everyone knows, would have been the major language of the world, had they won the Cold War.The Ruskies made me feel very put off at this point of the trip.I didn't like them at the before the trip. I like them as a people even less after the trip.But then again, I don't really like most Singaporeans either. Hell, I just don't like people in general. You can get out of my face now. Fucking Human Scum. What did we do upon our return from Moscow? Why housework, of course! That and trying to give the appropriate attention to our cats. Aimee has decided to pull a major sulk on us, only coming out of her room in the later hours of the afternoon.We met up with my mum for dinner and then proceeded to have coffee with Becks, returning only now.I'm glad that my mum is pleased about the handpainted matrushka doll that I've bought for her.What about my trip?Well, Russia is a beatiful place, but the Russians are a pissifying bunch of people. They shout at you and shove you, or they adamantly ignore you and try very hard to pretend you don't exist. Either way, they piss me off.Perhaps I will attempt to regale you with each pissing incident and its specifics later.However, one must not take it to mean that the trip wasn't fun. It was. It is a different sort of experience.Although, suffice it to say that Russia is a country I'm not exactly planning to return to anytime soon. In the airport at an unearthly hour to catch our flight to Moscow.Thus begins our Russian adventure.Take care of yourselves, folks. I'm sure we'll have a good time. Hehe, going to try make a tea smoked pork dish which I hope will be damn good, since I'll be having guests over a dinner for the first time.In other news, I'm going to the opening of Au Petit Salut's Bistro tonight! Whee.And we have managed to have home cooked food every night, even though it can be tiring sometimes to come home and have to cook.Well, it's all's well that ends well. Er. I just realised I missed out the link. What do you know, I'm on an ogre. Although at times, I wish I could be a devil.Anyway, here's the link for those interested.http://youtube.com/watch?v=Ap44iTVBM3II've been following this avidly. 易中天品三国01_大江东去Go check this out!It vindicates my faith in Zhou Yu and goes on to validate my beleif that Shu wasn't as kick ass as the Romance of the Three Kingdoms made it out to be.Go Wu! Except for Zhao Yun, who was a great warrior but a bad commander. Who can beat Lu Meng, Lu Xun, Zhou Yu, Huang Gai, Sun Ce and Gan Ning?Remember that the Romance of the Three Kingdoms is not a historically correct text, but a historical novel. So you Kong-Ming-summon-east-wind fanboys can go suck thumb. DiatribeSometimes, I get really irritated with all the SMS-speak that seems to be proliferating everywhere, from Messenger, emails, forum boards, etc.Allow me to quote a few examples:LMAO- I guess that means "Laughing My Ass Off"It could just as well mean "Licking My Anal Orifice". Although you can't really do that unless your physiology is freaky...ROFL- Rolls Around Floor Laughing.I can't really think of anything really good for this one. In fact, to even suggest that one is rolling about laughing on the floor at some stupid joke is dumb. I'd roll about if some dickhead breaks his legs by falling over another dickhead that's already on the floor. Still, here are my alternative suggestions. "Retards Only Fall Laughing". "Really Only Fuckers Laugh".There's that commonly used and abused "LOL"- Laughing Out LoudAnd "WTF". What's with that? Just spell What The Fuck lah. So difficult meh?I mean, can't these people just type in plain English?The next time I get one of these, I'll send back my message, "ORCS""Only Retards Cannot Spell". On educating Peanut that not everything has earth-shaking and world-shattering significance. Sometimes, things just happen. The way things are could just be put down to a simple quirk of chance.Not everything happens for a good reason.For example, "Hickory Dickory Dock" and "This Old Man" are good examples of truly random behaviour. What the fuck is the mouse doing? What the hell's up with that old man?And to make sure his memory work is up to scratch, I'll make him remember the list of armour and weapons, (with all their stats) for DnD games. Memorise feats, skills, stances, maneuveurs, spells, etc. He'll play the game to develop some imagination and cunning. Better than watching Spongebob Squarepants.And Peanut had bloody well have manners and grace. That's the first thing that'll be hammered in and inculcated. Excerpts from Peanut's Modern Fairy Tales.Taken from the "The Little Red Riding Hood from the 'hood".The Big Bad Wolf leapt up from the bed. Fangs bared, jaws slavering, he advanced ominously on Little Red Riding Hood.He shrugged off Granny's cap and ripped apart her night dress. Meanwhile, Little Red Riding Hood appeared to be in a state of shock. The Wolf let out a low guttural growl and stalked foward with eyes narrowed. Little Red Riding Hood held an open palm to her mouth. "So you're not my granny!" The Wolf grinned as malice flashed in his eyes. "No. Fooled you there, didn't I?"Then Little Red Riding Hood smiled. Not the kind of good smile that Mummy and Daddy do, but the kind that the creepy old man from next door does. "No. I fooled you."She flung her little red riding cloak apart, to reveal a little Remington 870 MCS combat shotgun.Little Red Riding brandished her weapon of choice, while the Wolf stopped advancing and started to retreat. "Fuck!"Bang! And the Wolf seemed to lose his left knee. Another quick bang, and he seemed to lose his right. With a grim smile, Little Red Riding Hood took careful aim. Bang! And the Wolf seemed to lose his interest in everything, putting all his efforts into an almighty howl, as the dripping mess from what was his scrotum, had gotten the Wolf's full attention.The Little Red Riding put aside the shotgun, and drew out a Japanese wakizashi. "Now you understand why I dress as the Little Red Riding Hood. It makes innocence so much easier to mask when people don't notice the bloodstains. And besides, why do you think they call me a hood?"Comprehension had come too late for the Big Bad Wolf... Not going to put down the ending, since most adults are squeamish about too much blood and gore. I do agree that hoodlums get away with too much in modern society. That's part of teaching Peanut the right path. I think I'll read to Peanut tonight about "Snow White and the Seven Inch Dwarfs". Seen on the NEL this morning.A very Cheena looking girl burying her bespectacled fac in some sappy Taiwanese novel. She wears a pink top with the following sequinned on."The problem with life.Too many girls.Too little time."Hello... Did she actually comprehend what the top is saying before buying it?And no way in hell is that woman a lesbian. She looks too guai and conservative for that. I could be wrong, but I'd reckon I'm right.I wanted to take a picture but was stopped by Apple. Memoirs of Peanut IIIThe Fucking Fictional FoetusPeanut Mummy was subjected to a test for Down Syndrome and other abnormalities. The test involved are the following below:Nuchal translucency testing. This test, performed between 11 and 14 weeks of pregnancy, uses ultrasound to measure the clear space in the folds of tissue behind a developing baby's neck. (Babies with DS and other chromosomal abnormalities tend to accumulate fluid there, making the space appear larger.) This measurement, taken together with the mother's age and the baby's gestational age, can be used to calculate the odds that the baby has DS. Nuchal translucency testing correctly detects DS about 80% of the time; when performed with a maternal blood test, it may offer greater accuracy.The triple screen (also called the multiple marker test) and the alpha fetoprotein plus. These tests measure the quantities of various substances in the mother's blood, and together with the woman's age, estimate the likelihood that her baby has Down syndrome. They are typically offered between 15 and 20 weeks of pregnancy.And Peanut was fucking uncooperative. We were at the ultrasound labs from 9 till noon, waiting for that little brat to get into the correct position so that the nice lab technician could take a good proper reading.Apple ingested cups of water, got a bloody full bladder, and then went for the scan. Peanut got poked, prodded and everything. Still not into position. Apple has to go to the restroom due to a bladder that threatens to explode. Rinse and repeat.Nabei...The fun thing was watching Peanut get up to all sorts of stuff in there. It somehow contrived to jam its left hand under its body (so the left arm did not move at all) and then frantically waving its right arm (as if saying "Help me!"). That was rather funny. It kicked and stretched. It jerked when the nurse pushed hard against it. It jerked when the nurse prodded at the womb. In short, it was doing everything except cooperating.Then Apple got hungry and we went down to Jolli Bean to buy some stuff to eat and drink. Then Peanut fell asleep. The problem was that it fell asleep in the wrong position. And nothing would wake it up. The nurse pushed and poked. It gave a cursory wave of the arm, fully extended its fingers and then went back to sleep.After much cajoling, it finally shifted itself into a position which allowed them to take a nice picture of the neck. Fucker...And the know what the annoying thing is, the nurses were cooing at it and calling it stuff like Darling and Baby in such saccharine sweet tones. It gets away with too much.Why the hell do you keep disturbing me? All I want to do is my own little foetal stuff? What's all this about Down Syndrome? So you don't want me if I have birth defects?Is this the real life?Is this just fantasy?Stuck in a womb now, can't escape to reality.Open my eyes,look up all around and it's dark...I'm just a peanut, I need some light in here.Because it's bloody dark, I'm bloody bored.Bounce bounce high, bounce bounce low.Anything they do now, doesn't really matter to me.To me...(Baby music on piano)Mama, stop bothering me.Put some music from Queen on.Leave it playing on repeat.Mama, life has just begun.Will you kindly please stop playing Schumann...(Drum roll)Mama, Ooooo oooh.Yes, I made you puke.If you don't eat this time tomorrow.You'll puke again, puke again.Cos you still have to feed me.Yes now. I have brain control.Send shivers down my spine.Heart is beating all the time.Hello, everybody. I've just arrived.Goota meet you all someday and piss you ooooffffff...Mama, Ooooo oooh.I just wanna sleep.Sometimes wish you'd just let me be...(Guitar riffs)I feel the little thumping of my heart.Thumper bouche, Thumper bouche.I can dance the fandango.Thunderbolt and lightning,Nothing I can see, dang!I-can-kick, I-can-grab, I-can-somersault-in-here.Magnifico...I'm just a peanut, everybody loves me.It's just a peanut still inside the womb now.Easy come, easy go.Will you let me go?Be still lah, no, we will not let you go.Let me go.Will not let you go.Let me go.Will not let you go.Never, never, never let you go, oh, oh oh.Oh mamma mia, mamma mia, mamma mia, let us go.The nurse must take a good picture of me, of me, of meeeeee...(More guitar riffs)So you think you can prod me and shift me around.So you think you can love me and ask me to move.Oh mummy, don't do this to me, mummy.Just gotta get out. Just gotta get right out of here.(Still more guitar riffs)Oh yeah! Oh yeah!Nothing really matters. Anyone can see.Nothing really matters.Nothing really matters but MEEEE...(Baby music fade out.) Memoirs of a Peanut IIor The Fabulous Fantasy FoetusDad is being fucking annoying. Apparently, he and Mumsy have watched this documentary named in the womb which shows 3-D images of a foetus in the womb. It's produced by National Geographic, and they are a BIG organisation, that one would assume is very rich. If I were that foetus, I would sue their pants off for invasion of privacy.Anyway, back to my annoying father. He has apparently now thinks that because I can now hear and respond, he thinks to bond better with me by fucking HOLLERING into Mum's belly button and startling the shit out of me. I mean, just this morning, I was enjoying a doze when Dad yelled out a mangling HELLO. I would tell him to fuck off, but my lungs are currently filled with water.I mean, I'm not bloody deaf you know. And guess what surrounds me totally? Amniotic fluid, and liquids convey sounds about four times better than air. YOU STUPID DICKHEAD!You should hear some of the fucking disparaging remarks he makes about me. He thinks I can't hear him. But oh I do. And when I get out, I am so going to make him pay. Jokes about alien visages, rearrangement of internal organs, beady eyes and so on. I didn't choose for my development to take this path okay? And you were once like me too. So he's an arse. I have no bloody idea why Mumsy chose this joker who isn't even a graduate. And then he goes on about how he wants to play techno music to me. Hello? I am not an ah-beng okay? I don't like techno. I want bloody metal. Why does he insist on annoying me deliberately?I know. Because he is an arsehole...Sighs... Well, you can't choose your parents.I am pleased to annouce that my CNS has formed up. I now have control of that bloody lump of muscle in my chest. You can call it the heart. I call it the bloody lump of muscle. And my armies of neurons are now spreading fast throughout the rest of my body. Soon, we will have total control and physical domination. Strangely, people get excited when they see the foetus touching its face, rubbing the nose, grasping the umbilical cord and kicking in the womb. Why? We don't really have much else to do you know. Admittedly, we sleep 90% of the time, but even so, our waking time is really boring if we do not entertain ourselves. I don't get cable on demand, I can't play solitaire, there are no video game consoles in here. Just darkness. Let me put you in a place like that and see what you do to entertain yourself. I cannot even wank.Anyway, I still haven't found out what sex I am. It bothers me, because I would really like to know if I am to masturbate with just a few fingers or all my fingers. It's really important to start working out those finger muscles.Mum's apparently going for some scan to see if I have Down's Syndrome or any other defects next week. I can't see myself so I'll want to know what they find out. In the meantime, I think I'll start bouncing around off the walls of the uterus. Bouncing babies from Galoob! Memoirs of a Peanutor The Fantastic Fictional FoetusPeanut is 2.6 cm and with arms and legs furiously paddling, or spasming, if you'd prefer. Its heart beats about 180 bpm, and it is pissed off.I'm bored. I'm fucking bored.I can't even suck my thumb, because I can't reach them. I can't fucking control my arms and legs because my spinal cord has not reached my brain. That's is why I'm suffering from a heart attack and appear like I'm in fits. My arms and legs won't stop their sily paddling motions. Have you tried sleeping while your arms and legs keep on shaking and shaking? You try it. See if it puts in you in a bad mood.Not that they do much good. The force they generate can't move me. There just isn;t enough strength in them to defy gravity. I can't swim up to bump that liver above me. I can only flop about. Flopping from side to side is not exactly the most gratifying activity about. Anyway, this humble abode of my is not exactly Central Park either. There are no ducks to feed, no trees, no squirrels. Not that it matters even if there were a theme park inside Mummy, it's so fucking dark that I can't see shit. I might smack my face into my palms one day. Than I'll sue the shit out of Mummy. I'd say a pitch black environment is rather fucking harzardous, wouldn't you agree?Speaking of face, another thing that pisses me right off is how fucking tiny, the rest of me is. I like have this humongous skull that's bigger than my body and about the same length. Now, trust me, you would be pissed off if you had anatomy like that. For starters, you can't bloody well lift your head for any extended period. Secondly, I stay in this concave surface where you roll into anything head first. That's fun if you really like bumping into things with your head. But then, that makes you a retard, and I'm not one. Mummy rolls over, and I get my nose mashed into this stupid membrane. It's a good thing I don't breathe yet, or I might just suffocate to death. I can't even kick her to remind her of of the concept of child safety. Bloody bugger adults. And it can be hard to flip back because the rest of your body doesn't have a line to the brain. It's like you could scream all day at the heart. "Stop pumping so bloody quickly, you're making me feel like I have a heart attack!"And it goes, "What? I can't hear you? Repeat?""Stop beating so fast! It's bloody futile. We're not doing any aerobic shit! There's no where to run or swim to. Slow down!""What did you say? Sorry, the line seems broken.""Why are you going so fast?""What?"It seriously pisses me off. The only kick I can get these days seem to be watching when my pair of hands and legs inadvertently tug at the umbilical cord. Seems to trigger a puking reaction from Mummy. Oh don't worry, it's all quite safe. The umbilical cord won't disconnect. It's better than those nylon shit ropes that mountain climbers use. One more grouse before I attempt to go to sleep. Mummy insists on playing the music from some silly sod named Schumann. In my not-so-humble opinion, she should stop. If that man puts half his energy on composing, instead of his silly musical journals, and stop going on about the new wave of music, he would be putting out real music. She could play Mozart, who is a child prodigy. Like me.Besides, who wants to listen to stuff put out by a henpecked cuckold who is a closet homosexual. I mean if you and your wife like Brahms that much, then do what other liberated people do. Have a threesome!Why can't Mummy play something from The Grateful Dead, Metallica, Cradle of Filth, you know, something from Stratovarius. Serious music...Fluff. And darkness. Well, I suppose I'll be content with the shit that Daddy sometimes cooks. It's bloody good, but then the damn legs gets tangled up again.Fuck. I really want to be able to suck my thumbs. It's a symptom of wanting to suck at breasts. If I could flash you a V, I would. But I can't, and so I won't. Now stop bothering me. Some random shots I've taken. Taken at Changi Beach while taking a walk.Now I suppose one could make up a story about going out on dark night with a red moon and how we met up a spooky apparition. But it isn't.Though Apple was creeped out by the way the clothes were hung by the neighbours. Hehehe.I found it quite amusing actually. Mmmm...Heh, I've found this great place at Novena Square 2. It's a butchery on the 4th storey, and boy, does it have some great stuff. Large scallops that are a joy to behold. Alaskan King Crabs. Meat, meat, meat and more meat.From your back bacon to Black Pigs cuts. Wagyu beef to your standard Australian striploin.I was seriously tempted by the King crabs, but they're seriously dear. So instead, I got some scallops and 400g of Wagyu Ribeye Beef, Marbling 8. The marbling 9 ones were beautiful, but at about S$34 per 100 gm. It was seriously too expensive for me.Heaven would have a butchery like this. Otherwise, I might as well go to the 24 hour barbecue.And then I bought some nice Japanese leek, oyster mushrooms, golden mushrooms, organic doufu, spinach, seaweed and miso paste. I wanted to prepare shabu-shabu for Apple as she said she had never tried that. As you can well tell, there is no need for any udon as I figured we would have quite enough to eat.The scallops were sweet enough to be done simply, panfried with olive oil, pepper and salt.And guess what? We finished nearly 4 litres worth of soup, stuffed with chockful of goodness and nourishment, as well as beef that's so damn good.And you know what the best thing is? Not the succulent beef, nor the light, tasty soup.Yes, you know the sappy answer. It's sharing these good things with someone who's the best thing that happened to you. On being discrete.Had a drama event this week.White Shirt enters shop; goes into a corner and starts inspecting merchandise. He proceeds to pick a few for purchase.Blue Shirt enters shop; carrying a plastic bag. He too, proceeds to the corner. BS then pulls a pair of black heels from the plastic bag and flings it at WS."Are these the shoes you were looking for?"And to everyone's surprise, he proceeds to punch WS. Not very professionally either. I lated noted that WS did not bear any very obvious wounds or bruises. I would expected him to put more grunt into it.WS didn't retaliate and instead seemed to just trying to protect his face.The building security was called in. BS and WS were separated. BS was then hustled out of our store, as WS is a customer, he got to stay in. Whereupon he proceeded to use our store as a place of safe refuge.BS was stalking Ws from outside our shop. He would walk across our entrance much like how the Istana gurads would march repeatedly to and fro. In the meantime, apparently his wife called him and I could hear snatches of conversation as he replied loudly into his phone."Don't tell me nothing's going on""Then why you go overseas with him? Why you go to hotel and meet him?""Why did he come and pick you up from Changi Airport?""Why you go hotel with him?""You want money is it?""He got money is it?""He has a wife you know?"The man must be either seriously free, or he could have hired a PI.Then BS hung up and WS got a call. WS conducted his cellphone business in a more quiet manner, so I couldn't hear much without appearing too kaypoh.And then BS started shouting into our shop."Go back to Indonesia lah. Singapore doesn't want people like you." (Actually, Govt. welcomes them. So do many retailers. Who wouldn't like a rich Indonesian to walk in?)"Got money, so what?" (I rolled my eyes at this. Got money can "so" a lot of things. Be realistic.)"You got gun in Indonesia is it? Got gun so what?" (So he can shoot you there and then bribe a cop to say it's self defence? Duh!)"I go there and look, cannot find you!" (Hello! Do you have any idea how easy it is to find someone in Jakarta?)"Got wife already, still come and do this type of thing. Shameless." (And that goes for you too!)Meanwhile, WS was ignoring him totally and didn't seem too bothered. In fact, he was smiling and chatting rather amicably with another woman on the line. (I heard the voice lah, woman, confirmed.) I did hear this though as he was talking while making payment."I want to meet you now. You go to my hotel across the road and wait."Fwah! Power.A few hours later, BS abandoned his line of sight of our entrance for some seconds. At which point, WS quickly scuttled off to the alternate exit of our building. Moments later, BS came back and saw that WS was missing. He came in and peered about. (Yeah, the man is hiding under our counter...Pfft) Then, just as abruptly as he had come, he went.Sorry if I don't sound very sympathetic towards BS.The woman is your wife. Compared to other potential suitors, you have a fucking big headstart. You obviously haven't done enough to keep her happy.Losing your wife to another and getting cuckolded is not something I'd broadcast on Orchard Road. If you wanted publicity, the Chinese tabloids or The New Paper are always looking for sensational stuff. If it were me, I'd keep fucking quiet about it.Trying to beat up someone in my shop does not impress me. There is a real chance that you might have damaged my expensive and delicate merchandise. At which point, I would have to make you pay, one way or the other. You can beat him up outside.I have to say though, that BS was tall and rather good looking. And WS is this bespectacled pudgy guy. Definitely no contest in the looks department. But you have to give WS points for looking totally unruffled, ignoring the heckling of BS and continuing to look through our store. Points for style there. As the Hokkien would say, sibeh zhai.That was my little bit of drama this week.The burning question though, is: What's with the shoes?I can't figure it out to any satisfaction. Oh well...And I have cooked a successful beef steak for Apple. She liked my steak (medium) with red wine sauce and grilled veges. Yay! (Actually, i overcooked it slightly, as I was aiming for a medium rare steak.)And then Peanut proceeded to throw up some of it. Little runt. The Nissan GT-R is awesome. After sneaking a ride yesterday, I just read how it lapped the Nurburgring in 7.25. And yes, you can buy the V-Spec as a production model.Wahliao. The GTR legend seems to live on. I don't really like to talk about it, but work can wear me down, leave me snappish and in a generally foul mood. Or it could leave me rather stoned with little appetite for conversation.I have to deal with my general HR issues which can be rather wearying. I can't just shout and scream or rant at my staff (even though that's all I really want to do sometimes). Still I usually try not to bomb people as my "Route One" plan. I don't want to talk about how my staff are behaving badly from my viewpoint.And then I have to plan and worry about cash flow, which can be rather irritating and depressing. I can't really share this problem easily because I'd have to show you the various accounts and forecasts. What I want to buy in Euro or USD. My takings and income. The fixed overheads. Stuff like that. It's a necessary skill but I still don't like poring over accounts.Or how my admin assistant isn't around and I have to arrange my own paperwork. Invoices that need to be sent out so that customers will be billed on time and hopefully pay on time (Yeah, big fat hope.) The big shipment that's coming in. Allotments for the overseas dealers and the local ones. And then enough to keep the shop people happy, and not too much.To key out an order sheet takes 10 mins, thinking about it takes a little longer depending on the goods and amount. I usually mull for one to two days over the major brands.I try not take the aggro home with me. I don't like to talk about work after hours since I don't want to think to about it and explain it. I could if the other party is really interested but most of the time, it would be greek, since many people may not actually see the point in the items I deal with.So I lock the work stuff where they belong, in the bloody office. It helps to keep me happier. After reading Zhebin's post on anonymous bloggers, I decided to google my name. What the results came up with caused me to go "What the Fuck!". I had found somebody in the same country with the same name who looks a a (much) fatter version of me.Suffice it to say, this leaves me feeling rather disturbed. I tried calling Apple to tell her about it, and how the circles of bizarreness are spreading; with each ripple getting wider.Life is not boring when it's weird. Today marks the one month anniversary of the escape from Whitley Dentention Centre by one (intrepid) Mas Selamat Kastari.Whee. And yet they still say he's in Singapore.Whee. Whee. Whee. But I'll bet you that many Singaporeans will forget about this (and their million dollar salaries pegged to the top performers in the private sector) in three years.Whee, whee, whee, whee. I am ashamed to admit such faith in my fellow countrymen.Boo. I wanted to blog about something I heard on Sunday night's news on Channel 5.Well, I've finally seated my fat ass down and will proceed on.What I heard was our Dearest PM commenting on the Mas Selamat incident. He said something like this, "Yes, we're certain to capture him." Then a pause, "Provided he's in Singapore." Quickly followed up with, "We have no reason to believe he's out of the country."It's quite a brilliant caveat. Our august PM is quite sure of capturing this fugitive provided he's in Singapore. Of course, there is no reason to believe he is out of Singapore. After all, none of our customs and immigrations checkpoints have spotted said fugitive nor have they cleared his passport. After all, the easiest way to get out would be go through the Tuas or Woodlands checkpoint right? Haven't a few wanted men gone out the same way before the police dragnet tightened?Since he is definitively still in Singapore, it must be our kiasu mentality that alerted Interpol, the Malaysian police, and the Indonesian police. After all, we want them to volunteer to come to Singapore to help us find him only what. The more the merrier. Right? Because there is no way he is already overseas.Mas Selamat must be daft as a coconut shell, the same as those who have voted for the opposition. I'm sure he didn't plan to escape. He must've seen an opportunity and taken it. Layers of security don't matter when you can saunter out of an ISD detention facility. After all, what is he? Just another known terrorist. And apparently, the authorities either have no idea by which way he sauntered out, or they know but, they're not telling.Why wouldn't they tell us what happened? Might it be because even the ISD is rife with moles and double agents? Or the people in charge of security were so incredibly negligent?ISD 1: Oh look! On screen 3! Is that Mas Selamat heading for the gate?ISD 2: Wait, let me try to adjust Camera 2 as well, Camera 3 has no zoom feature lah.ISD 1: I'll ask the guard. Control to Main Gate! Is that a detainee heading towards you? Over.Gurkha: What? My English not so good. Speak slowly. Repeat over.ISD 1: My English also no good what. Is that a detainee heading towards the gate?Gurkha: Yes!ISD 2: Confirmed, plus guarantee, that's Mas Selamat.ISD 1: Kanina!Gurkha: What? KAI MEN? Okay.ISD 1: What talking you.Gurkha: Chinese lah!ISD 2: Oei, the gate's opening!ISD 1: Hold the gate!Gurkha: Okay.ISD 2: Shit, he walked out!ISD 1: Fuck! I already said to hold the gate right?Gurkh: Yes The gate not fully opened.ISD 1: I mean close it! Close it!ISD 2: Better tell him to open lah. We have to go and chase him.ISD 1: Nabei. Boss find out, we sure die one. Why not keep quiet and cover backside. Let next shift come and then we do inspection and suddenly discover he's missing lah. Then they kena what.ISD 2: Yeah hor. Your taichi velly good leh.So that stupid stupid Mas Selamat escaped, without a plan, with no friends nor associates to turn to, with no money, no clothes, and no food. He is arguably a saint since no one will help him and by my reckoning, he has gone on without food for coming to two weeks. He might even be hungry enough to steal your char siew pao, so look after your buns!He is also a rather pungent smelling saint, since he has gone without a change of clothes and has been sleeping outdoors ever since his escape. All this because in spite of being hunted, he has no reason to leave Singapore.Despite our little island having rather little forested land left, we still could not find him. In fact a somewhat exhaustive comb of the area after his escape did not unearth him. The lucky bastard, he must've found a hole and camouflaged it so cleverly that it looks like a tree. If only Saddam Hussein had learnt from Mas Selamat.Seriously, the man is an extremist, not an idiot. And I'm a citizen of Singapore. Not an idiot.Please stop treating me like one. I'm asking politely. Not that the ruling party would ever care.So if your pao gets stolen, call the police! There's no reward though, only Osama gets 25 million. Maybe you get coffee with our esteemed PM.Sorry, they only have tea. Me bad. Can't really blame me, since I am an idiot.I'm not a terrorist ah! Lovely Young Car Looking for Clever Playmates.Meet Ralf, our teutonic friend.Ralf is a nice and rather unassuming chap. Look past the 17" rims, twin exhaust, lowered suspension, and that little GT word on the grille, and you would not be blamed for thinking that Ralf is like most other Golfs on the road. Unlike most other Golfs, Ralf can sprint from 0-100 in under 8 seconds, and when not driven hard, sips fuel so economically that you might get 15 km to the litre. However, it can be rather hard to do so when Ralf's little 1.4 engine pulls 240 Nm from 1750rpm all the way to the redline when 170 German horsepower bring Ralf over most speed limits.Add to that, the fantastic DSG, which is really a joy. Especially when you're downshifting before a corner, you hardly feel the gears engaging. It makes torque converters seem boring.Ralf carries the same suspension as his big brother, the GTi. However, the suspension is set a little less stiffer and is more forgiving. Still, you'd have to be pushing really hard to feel at all uncomfortable as the car handles so well, the steering gives good feel and for the brave, you can turn off the ESP.It may be a little too techhnical for most folks, but that's the way Ralf is. A true blue geek's car. Drivers won't feel shortchanged with him. Are you interested in meeting Ralf? Call him now at the number below!MEETRALF*This is a paid advertisement. Lonely Cars Pte Ltd is a fully registered member of the Automotive Love Association and the Car Enthusiast Club. Find your true love now. The Lamb is gone. It will be thought of fondly. This was the car with which I have gone through much and have had some really good fun in.It was the car in which I first picked up my wife. Drove up with her to KL only to have KFC and return. It still makes me smile when I think of the times I've shared with Lamb. It's been a great five years.And now I can only tell myself that Lamb will be exported to get a new lease of life. To brighten the day of someone else and make that drive and commute easier. To share and be part of another life.Good bye Lamb. It's been great with you. I'm so excited that I can't sleep. It's nearly five. And not too much longer to go before I get to have my first hot hatch. Whee.