Better days I've finally made the move that I've been threatening feebly for years. I am no longer blogging here.If you enjoyed reading my entries and would like to continue doing so at my new blog, leave a comment with your name and email address. All comments are moderated, and I won't approve them so you won't get any spam. I would be delighted to hear from you.For those of you who have already done so - thank you so much for the encouragement and lovely warm words. You are a big part of the reason I've kept this blog for as long as I have.Love,Le Raine A monstrosity of a pageant I just got back from watching "So You Think You Are Andro?/! (Part 3)". It's a lesbian beauty pageant for androgynous girls.It was completely depressing. I'm dismayed by the two hours of my life I've just frittered away.Of the 12 contestants, only three (#1, #2 (obviously the smartest) and #12) appeared to possess a shred of intelligence. Everyone else gave shockingly terrible answers. Some didn't answer at all because they were obviously too dumb to know what to say (two of them actually asked the audience for an answer) and were quickly ushered off by the emcee (Bernie Chan, whose command of English is ghastly). It went something like this (definitely not verbatim):*screams, chattering, cheering from the crowd*Bernie: OI! Shhh... if you all KEEP QUIET then you can LISTENING! Shhh.. now, here's our lovely contestant, X! Oops, I mean, Y! Sorry, her name is Y! (X was the contestant before - she consistently announced the contestants by the wrong names.) Y, take off your mask and tell us what you're doing now.Contestant Y: I'm doing schooling.Bernie: What are you studying?Contestant: Blah blah blah.Bernie: Okay pick a question. Okay. Your question is: do you think it's fair for a child to have parents of the same sex?*cheering, screaming from the crowd* *Contestant smacks her forehead lightly in mock resignation/horror*Contestant Y: Errrrr... does anyone want to answer for me? Ha ha.Judge (Rebecca Tan): Darling, the question's for you.*Contestant shifts her weight, asks for question to be repeated, looks at the crowd pleadingly, looks for an escape route, shrugs, shifts her weight, etc.*Judge: Okay we have another question then. What do you think of sex in the water?*screaming and cheering from the crowd* *Contestant shifts weight, etc.*Bernie: Sex in the water - on or not on?!Contestant Y: *shrugging* I guess so... *nods, shrugs*Bernie: Okay it's ON! Thank you Contestant X!Fuuuuuuuck. Fuck. The only benefit of the night was catching a few glimpses of a few gorgeous girls, though they were way out of my league. "Blah" is probably the most eloquent summary of this entry I am such an unassertive people-pleaser, and I hate it. It's what keeps me from really writing here - I think I have quite a lot to say, but my enthusiasm is dampened by the idea of having to apologize for and defend everything I say, or potentially landing myself in awkward situations (I suspect my boss reads my blog). I do have interesting, impersonal things to talk about as well, but I keep telling myself that I'll start a new blog, do it up properly, and then bother with actually insightful entries, instead of silly ones. Like this, for example.I haven't been doing much lately. I have been terribly inert. I get home after work and feel like I absolutely don't want to move, despite doing pretty much nothing at work. Tonight I passed up invitations to three absolutely fantastic parties so I could stay home instead and do fuckall. I only get out these days to go to the gym, and then I ruin any progress because I'm not disciplined enough to stick to a healthy diet. Good grief. I'm ashamed.I suspect my lack of motivation has something to do with my work scope and the environment. Under the current circumstances at work, I am simply not in a position to be actually productive, which results in being tasked with the pesky little things that everyone else avoids. Being on autopilot mode for hours and hours is really draining, or at least makes it difficult to snap into intellectual shape when I'm finally free to do so. Also sitting all day in a chair that was designed with negligible consideration towards ergonomics is rather displeasing (and chronic back pain has been proven to cause more unhappiness than loss of a limb or the death of a loved one).Anyway, I don't know who reads this blog anymore, but at some point in the near future I'm going to ditch this blog and write elsewhere. If you're interested in an update on the new URL, leave a message with your email (and name, preferably). All comments are moderated. Writing a book "Writing a book is a horrible, exhausting struggle, like a long bout of some painful illness. One would never undertake such a thing if one were not driven by some demon whom one can neither resist or [sic] understand. For all one knows that demon is the same instinct that makes a baby squall for attention. And yet it is also true that one can write nothing readable unless one constantly struggles to efface one's personality."Good prose is like a window pane."-- George Orwell Living in 2019 - part I “How are your dental treatments coming along?”“I had a bunch of fillings…” He trails off in the manner of someone reluctant to announce bad news. “..all over the place. Terrible.”“And your root canal?”“I’ve not done anything about it.”“I see.” A meaningful silence.“It’s okay!” He enthuses jokingly. “In like ten years I’ll be having new teeth growing from my stem cells…”“Or you could get a steel jaw.”“Hey. That is also true – adamantine teeth.”I have to scoff. “And what if you accidentally bit your tongue?”“Don’t you mean my adamantine tongue...?”“Who would want to kiss you then?!”“I would simulate your kissing me.” Duh, his tone says. He smiles, obviously proud of himself. The first step One of my biggest fears is writing a novel, because it is the one thing I want to do most in life. The very idea of spending hours, months, years--time that doesn't register--immersing myself in the sweet pleasure of putting to paper words that demand to tumble forth -- furiously producing page after page in the darkest hours, or a quick, delighted scrawl on the back of a bill in the train -- and then re-reading it and realizing it is almost all shit -- the very idea is crippling. The generation gap That feeling I experience when talking with people who (I realize only belatedly) proudly reject reason, who are unwilling to even consider alternative possibilities even in the face of irrefutable evidence: stark terror. I feel a desperation that claws at me with long, dark fingers, tightens its vice and I feel like I am being engulfed in an abyss of nothing.I'm exhausted. Celebrate the coveted I've just gotten home from a night out with new friends, old friends, and friends who probably don't even consider me friends but are nice to me anyway. It was mad fun - it's so good to be young; so nice to be able to go out partying and smiling because the air is positively vibrating with energy and everyone looks so happy you know you need some of the drug they're on, and tasting that heady rush and knowing that the world is yours... I savour my youth. I savour my youth Raising kids A few weeks ago he and I were talking about the most important qualities that we'd like to instill in our children (if any)."Curiosity," he decided. "Wanting to find out how things work, and why they work, is really instrumental to ensuring that he or she grows up to be an interesting person."I had to agree, thinking of all the people I've met and whose names I've forgotten because they didn't ask the right questions, or the right amount of questions. "What about you?" He asked."I'm thinking about it." A pause, interspersed with several hums on my side."A sense of justice." I said, finally."It's so crucial, don't you think? It'll ensure that he can identify flaws in an argument-" I was ticking off the benefits on each finger. "-and be trained to think rationally. And it'll teach him to stand up for himself-""As well as for other people.""-absolutely, and it will also teach him not to judge others as he doesn't want to be judged."He paused thoughtfully. "I don't know about that. I think I'd want a child who would be happy to be judged, so that he doesn't live by the silly rules that other people make for him.""Sure. I don't mean that he shouldn't want to be judged - just that he'll know that if he's going to judge others by a certain measure, he ought to expect to be judged by the same standard himself.""Yes, of course. Not to be a hypocrite. Confidence is extremely important as well - it gets you a higher salary, more friends...""And it gets you laid," I said with a smile."Yes. That too." He smiled back.Make a baby with this guy, I noted mentally. Brief update Guess it says something about my taxi-taking habits when my dad gives me a ride home and I have to quell the instinctive impulse to reach for my wallet so I can pay him.Also, I am now working in NUS. I've been begging rides from my parents, who work somewhat close by, but inevitably the day will come when I'll have to brave the sweaty brutality of the rush-hour crowds and public transport... if you know a quick way to get from Hougang to NUS via bus/MRT, please let me know. Literary (dis)pleasure Franz Kafka, in a letter to Oskar Pollack:I think we ought to read only books that wound and stab us. If the book we are reading doesn't wake us like a blow on the head, what are we reading for? So that it will make us happy, as you write? Good God, we would be just as happy if we had no books and the kind of books that make us happy are the kind we could write ourselves if we had to. But we need the books that affect us like a disaster, that grieve us deeply, like the death of someone we love more than ourselves, like being banished into forests far from everyone, like a suicide. A book must be the axe for the frozen sea inside us. That is my belief. Between a rock and a hard place What wins in the end: rationality or Asian values? It's really a choice of whether you want to lose the respect of the people you love most, or to lose the respect you have for yourself.  Woah Today marks our first year together as a couple.Tonight we are also flying to Auckland, and I will meet his family for the first time. My parents will be there too, to increase the pressure. We are all going to stay together, both our families, and I will try to make everyone love me and hope they won't notice my chattering teeth and violent shivering too much.Am I nervous? Fuck yes.Will be there for 2 weeks, during which I'm going bungee-jumping, skydiving, bush-walking (nature walks, presumably, but the native insists on this term), horse-riding, sheep-shearing (of course!), wine-tasting, road-tripping, water-skiing, hang-gliding and lots of other new and frightening things. I also don't expect to be hooked up to the Internetz very often, so feel free to drop me an email but don't expect an actual reply until I get back.For all those going to Kumar's show, Social Media Breakfast 6 and the Mosaic Music Festival (Cinematic Orchestra, Psapp, N.E.R.D, etc etc) - yes, I'm going to miss it all. Have fun, post pictures to Facebook, blog/tweet about it etc - I look forward to your updates! See you soon. P.S The flight is around 8.45pm, in case you need to contact me by today. This is how we end I feel so bitter about being born and raised in Singapore, where the education system teaches everyone that a degree is simply the means to an end and that papers are the authoritative qualifications on how capable, or how intelligent, or how good a worker you are. I'm bitter about how dismissive people get over "unimportant disciplines" because every fucking one has been trained to value only jobs in finance, medicine or law. I'm especially bitter over how parents suppress their children's hunger for knowledge by waving the promise of funding over their heads and saying, "Look, I'm paying for you. You'll learn what I want you to learn, what *I* know is important for you to learn, not some fancy good-for-nothing subject that won't get you anywhere in life." This is how we end. Boasting about our jobs in MNCs, working in skyscraper dreams of paper and working for the promises of getting somewhere in life, because our hearts - so ignorant of the ways of society! - cannot be trusted to guide; because we need someone to tell us what our purpose in life is. Wildflower Often I wonder why people stay, when they're obviously unhappy. Often I realize that they're waiting for a reward, no matter how remote the possibility; and just as often, people think that being fair, neutral, and safe means not making a choice.And so we end up trampling on the wildflowers of intention, yelling, "I don't want to be doing this! I didn't choose this!" And then we return home for dinner, with crushed flowers and soil under our feet, feeling a hollow sense of martyrly triumph for braving the bitterness of reality. Wallflower The following offers some insight into the reason why I am happy to be something of a wallflower among my peers:I fought back the urge to laugh at her. Not yet adults ourselves, we sought to protect ourselves from potential wounds by turning the tables on our perceived aggressors and being the ones to launch the attack. But it grew tiresome being a constant target, and those who clung to their injuries were surely not inclined to live long. So I worked on refining my maliciousness and Mitsuru worked on her intelligence. Yuriko, for better or worse, was imbued from the start with a monstrous beauty. But Kazue... Kazue had nothing to cultivate. I felt absolutely no sympathy for her. How can I put this? To get right to the point, Kazue was supremely ignorant, insensitive, ill-prepared, and utterly outmatched by the harsh realities that confronted her. Why on earth didn't she notice?I'm sure you will once again feel compelled to note that my assessment is particularly brutal, but it's true. Even if you allow for the fact that she was still immature, there was in Kazue a violent insensitivity. She lacked Mitsuru's attentiveness, and she did not have my kind of heartlessness. In my final analysis, there was something about her that was fundamentally weak. Kazue did not harbor any demons; in that sense she was similar to Yuriko. They were both at the mercy of whatever came their way, which I found terribly predictable. I wanted more than anything to plant a demon in their hearts.-- "Grotesque", Natsuo KirinoI'm not heartless, or malicious, or terribly smart. But the idea of glorifying in weakness - as many people I know do - is odious, and so is the idea of having my energy being sucked out by people who are too ignorant to do anything; not even to hate themselves. Daddy's girl My dad and I don't talk very much.It's not because we don't love each other, even though we hardly say the words. It's not because our relationship is frayed in any way. Rather, we're just two very similar people - chatty and quite silly when intoxicated by good spirits and good spirit, but usually just quiet. In each other's company, when there is no one else around, we share silences that are long, and rich with words unsaid. There are no foolish words uttered in desperation to make one's presence noticed - only, instead, a comfortable calm.Now he sits at his usual spot in the living room, on the couch under the reading light, reading a crime thriller. It's a familiar sight, except that it's way past his usual bedtime, and I know why he's here, even if I do not ask and he does not offer an explanation: it's because I'm here, studying for my exams. And in his usual silently supportive way - unable to help me because he lacks the knowledge - he stays up with me instead, until his furtive yawns and heavy eyelids must force him to take his leave, and sleep, after offering a prayer for his daughter. Twitter http://twitter.com/leraineLess and less sure about the future of this blog. I love writing, but I hardly write in length anymore. Will micro-blogging be the way to go from now on? I can't be certain, but you can subscribe to my banal, usually unexciting, sometimes intense - and at rarer times actually thought-provoking and witty - thought stream anyway.Am in the process of preparing for final exams. Last paper is next Wednesday, so will probably only really write then - if I surprise myself with coherency and insight. The best intentions cause the greatest harm. Quick notes I have been extremely busy, sometimes to the point of exhaustion; sometimes to the point where, like now, I feel like I really want to be talking to someone, to all of you, or one of you in particular, but am unable to because I have a million other things on my plate.Even amidst this - what feels like an infinite vortex of responsibilities and mounting expectations to exceed - life is happening. I just barely have the time or energy to sit back and observe. I get tired and emotional instead, and words - really the only thing I have - elude me. I try to quietly shut down, instead. Hunger I realize now why I feel a gnawing need to amend my previously stated resolutions for the year. It's not because they're unachievable; it's because I wasn't being succinct enough. They're all examples of things I can do to achieve the one resolution I have for 2009.This year, I'm going to change my life. I'm going to learn ferociously, experience new things, and try harder than before not to give in to apathy, cynicism and laziness. I've never wanted this more than I do now, and I'm determined to cram this year with a whole bunch of things to get up to. I'm looking forward to it, I really am. 2009 Resolutions I was astonishingly successful at fulfilling my 2008 resolutions, which I actually actively sought to tick off, so I'm looking forward to accomplishing more cool stuff in '09. And besides, I'm a compulsive list-maker. So in no particular order:1. Maintain my current weight. I've actually managed to achieve my ideal weight at last, so I'm feeling motivated to stay on a good diet and work at toning up.2. Get entry into a European university. Ideally in the UK or Scandinavia.3. Learn the following dances: the lindy hop, the tango, bachata, the Hammer, pole, and more to come, I'm sure.4. Attain driving licence5. Read more books (and actually finish them). Especially classics (de Sade, Huxley, Wilde, Vonnegut) and non-fiction (current affairs, language and literature, evolutionary science, political science, marketing, history, biographies)6. Write poetry7. Think up and implement lucrative ideas8. Donate to non-profit humanitarian aid organizations with money raised through fulfilled dares and bets won9. Improve my oral skills, and I don't mean cocksucking. I've been complimented a few times on my writing, but I am actually fairly terrible at speaking confidently. I get flustered when I have to explain something quickly; for some reason my vocabulary goes to shit and I can't find the words to express my ideas succinctly. I suspect this is developed from a natural tendency to keep my thoughts to myself most of the time, or expressing them most often in writing, where I am more concerned with accuracy of nuances than conciseness.10. Learn to cycle. Okay, shut up already. 11. Learn to cook (well) --2008 has been just brilliant for me. It has, without a doubt, been the most wonderful year of my life.I’ve savoured the days. I’ve loved beyond my wildest dreams, fulfilled a few crazy kinky fantasies, been more humiliated and terrified than ever in my life, made some really good friends who are absolute gems… it’s been exhilarating! And I’ve loved it.And now 2009 is upon us, and I’m excited and a little apprehensive. I doubt it can surpass 2008 in overall awesomeness, but I’m certainly not pessimistic about it. One whole year full of fabulous memories is really more than I would have ever asked for, but it did happen. So happy new year, everyone. I hope it's going to be good. So fucking funny http://www.cracked.com/article_16275_p1.html(Thanks, Wu Tien.)My favourite, from the Serbians:"May your house be live on CNN" (Da bog da ti kuca bila na CNN-U)--this essentially means I hope NATO will bomb your house. Not all their digs are quite so topical. The CNN-based insults only work against people whose homes haven't been bombed, which couldn't be more than a couple dozen. That's why "Da bi te majka prepoznala u bureku" (Let your mother recognize you in a meat pie) and "Da Bog da ti zena rodila stonogu pa ceo zivot radio za cipele" (May your wife give birth to a centipede so you have to work for shoes all your life) are instant classics as well. -100 for The Cannery Okay, so I've griped about MOS before. Baggage counter was always full, drinks were watered down crap, Smoove was the shittiest hiphop room ever. (Actually, no, I take that back - Phuture is the fucking worst. Drunk lians either giggling and losing their balance and falling about, or slow-dancing with their nitwit boyfriends. What the fuck? The worst thing about couples dancing is that they really think that on a dancefloor that's waaay packed, they're entitled to their own little private, loving bubble that has a 1m radius - fuck off, you're stealing my oxygen.)But now MOS is closed, and the new joints are terrible. No more 80's room with funky glowing floor tiles and spiralling, hypnotic wall decor. No more Pure, with its chilled out, sexy beats and hot, champagne-sipping patrons. Probably no more awesome electronica DJs in the main room as well, now that the performers need music to rehearse to. Just a few girls gyrating around poles, and aerial dancers swinging about with exaggerated enthusiasm. Really lame. In the spirit of This Christmas I will be thinking of rediscovery, renewal, and reaffirmation -- of struggling morals that strike me as wild grey eyes do; dark with desire, light with relish. I will turn, desperately, the pages of an unfinished book; bound in the leather of quiet beliefs and naïve convictions, joyfully earmarked, clumsily written. I will not feel the bow on a violin made of heartstrings, but I will hear its harsh melody. And when the church bells toll on Christmas morning, I will think of ersatz magic and erstwhile faith, beautiful friendships, and the road less travelled. I will think of you, I will miss you fiercely. Joyeux Noël. Travel light When you've been wronged, there are a few things you can do. You can take it out on someone else who doesn't deserve your anger. You can take it out on yourself, but even that isn't really true, because the people around you will still inadvertently be punished by your angst. You can escape and run - start on a clean slate, or whatever, and pretend nothing ever happened. You can seek revenge, and if you succeed, that's fucking awesome and I would love to hear how you exacted it. Or you can accept that you've been royally fucked over, realise that anger is destructive, have a good think about what you've done wrong and make sure you never do it again, and then go out and get a mindblowing shag. Sometimes the masochism feels good. Wallowing in self-pity and making yourself a victim of the world and harsh reality feels good, because you get a free pass to being a complete dick. The irony lies in the fact that you're so busy being angry about the injustice being done to you that you fail to notice how much more of a loser your misery is making you. The point of this (entirely self-referential entry, by the way)? I guess I've learnt that I'm the kind of person who doesn't get even; I get over it, and I'm really happy that I do. Syllable stress Robert Frost said writers in English have a choice between two meters: strong iambic and weak iambic.I guess readers in English only have those two choices, as well.Syllable stress. Conversation with a mat It's a single-deck bus, so the seats fill up pretty quickly. An ITE mat takes the space beside me and bobs his head. "Sorry ah.""It's okay." I say, bobbing in kind,  and readjust my earphones. He says something, and I remove them again. "Sorry?""Poly?""Yes.""Where?""Temasek." "Oh."I plug the phones back in. A minute later, he says something again, and I have to remove them. "What's your name?"I tell him. "Oooh.. style ah. You Chinese?""Half. Eurasian Chinese.""Oh... good what... Eurasian... like special ah. Like, different from everybody else lah... how does it feel to be Eurasian?""Um... yeah." I'm at a loss for words. "Um...." I smile brightly at him and fiddle with my earphones. I'd been looking forward to reading my notes during the long ride, or taking a nap, and I agonized in silent yearning. "How old are you?" He asks."Nineteen. You?""One year younger."I nod awkwardly and try to look approving. "I see."He lowers his voice. "So you single or attached?""Attached."He pauses. "Your boyfriend in your poly?""No, he's working.""How long already both of you?""About.. eight months." I smile again, and look down at my lap. An uncomfortable silence ensues."Sorry ah, just asking ah, 'cos I bored ah... sit next to someone, if can chat then chat ah... unless they like fucker act seh like that ah.""Erm." I say, and chew on my lower lip. "Yeah." I try to look sympathetic. "If like those kind of people then I don't talk ah... don't wanna talk also ah... I don't like ah, people give me attitude like they very big ah. I always go out with my brothers ah, just cil cil (chill chill) only ah, then some people not happy ah, then got fight ah.""I see.""So what your hobby?""I read," I say, and think sadly about my assignments and deadlines. "And go out with friends.""Club?""Yeah.""This Saturday I going Dbl O with my brothers ah. You want to go?""I don't think so... I'm very, very busy these days, got a lot of assignments.""Okay." He bobs his head. "Now every time I go club sure piang one." He sees the confusion on my face and explains. "Piang ah. You know what's that? Means fight ah." "Oh. How come?""'Cos I play shirt one ah, then other shirt and mine like, always piang one ah. Like I play 369 ah, so other like 08, 303, 21, 18, 24, Omega, if we see each other, we just langa ah. In club is always like me and my brothers just cil cil ah, slack, then some Chinese fucker push my ginna ah. First few times I say never mind ah, just cil ah. But they want to find trouble you know! So we say go outside settle ah. Then they always lose ah, cos we always bring weapon what." "Oh... wow. Okay." "Ya ah. Where got go clubbing don't bring weapon one right? Siao ah."I can't believe I'm having this conversation. "Yeah," I say, somewhat emphatically. Going clubbing without weapons? What a laughable notion. Of course we need weapons in clubs. In fact, clubs should probably supply them at the door. "Actually shouldn't play shirt ah. I regret ah..."I've given up fiddling with the earphones; they're hanging limply around my neck now, and I can hear strains of Trentemøller, and am torn between getting off the bus to escape him, or continung the conversation. I opt for the latter."Then why don't you quit?" "Okay lah... because you want to leave, got a few ways lah... open table, drop money, or let all your brothers - more than 100 - whack you ah.""What do you mean, open table?""Means you invite all your boss to sit down and talk ah... then they order alcohol... a lot ah... and food... whatever they want ah. Then you must pay all ah. Very expensive. Then another way is just pay money ah, like $3690, or $369, or something ah... must be like, 369 ah.""Oh.""Ya... anyway... play shirt, better don't be so frenetic ah. Not good ah. But that's me lah. I play shirt since Sec 1 already. Last time always kena push by like Chinese ah, until one day I fight back ah.. then after that I never stop already. Now if piang, someone give me a few punches ah, I don't give them punches back ah. I make sure they go hospital."Oh shit, I think. "Wow.""Ya... always when piang with other shirt ah. Always when I just go out with my brothers and cil, slack ah. Then another shirts will come ah, and give us that look ah, like bastard sial, then surely one of them will ask ah, "You where one?" Then the other person will say, "You doneed to know I where one." Then will ask again ah, "You where one?" Then if the other person stupid enough to say, like, "I 24 Ang Kun one", then I 369, so can langa ah." "So what about girls?""Girls also I whack ah."My eyes widen. "But.. you do?""Ya lah. As long as someone touch you first, you can touch them back what. I cil cil only then they wanna come and give me a fucker face, then touch me, I just touch back ah! No matter is girl, boy, gay or lesbian. As long as they touch first.""Oh. So what kind of weapons do you use?""Got a few ah. Parang, chopper, brass knuckle..." "Have you ever had a police case?""Ya. I go boy's home before also. I slash one fucker ah then I go in. Two years plus." He gives me a careless grin."So far got all the case ah. Except murder. Soon ah." He chuckles. My expression at this point is totally "o_o"."Anyway I going now. Eh, you take care ah!" He leaves as suddenly as he'd arrived. I spend the rest of the ride thinking about him and his future. One day he's going to end up in prison, or murdered, or both, and it won't matter who his brothers are, or the weapons he used to carry, or the tales of his glory. He'll just be dead, and someone else will take his place, and it will be just like he never existed, except for the lives he'd caused irreparable damage to.  Fast cars, broken hearts "You're like a Lamborghini," he says, with a self-mocking smile. "Beautiful, sexy... and high-maintenance."And I love him hard at that moment. I love him with everything I have. And I leave. Confucius and panties Some time ago in the office, while rocking in my chair and failing magnificently at stifling the guffaws bubbling in my throat, I emailed the source of my amusement to Paul: a link to a list of Confucius jokes.The following is an excerpt of the subsequent chat he had with his colleague.11:46 Paul Confucius say: panties not best thing on earth, but next to it. 11:46 Kim wtf are you talking about? 11:57 Paul I would have thought that was blindingly obvious. 11:58 Kim 'fraid not 12:00 Paul should I put it all in caps for you? 12:01 Kim i don't really see how that will help 12:01 Kim maybe you can try paraphrasing 12:03 Paul Panties are not the best thing on earth...I think that's pretty clear. 12:03 Paul They're next to it. 12:04 Paul Um. What are panties next to? 12:04 Kim what exactly are 'panties', in this context? 12:04 Paul Well, if I had to guess, I'd say Confucious was talking about pussy. 12:04 Paul http://www.chambersharrap.co.uk/chambers/features/chref/chref.py/main?query=panties&title=21st12:05 Kim children, eh? 12:05 Paul oh ffsSuch an endearing man, Kim.