Bush on TV: get a friend who speaks German to translate for you, but you'll get the idea nonetheless
i have enough of
these, thank you
pick-up lines, along with success rate
Art Historian's Guide to the Movies
Puberty 101: masturbation for guys- for some reaaon i always feel compelled to read the Aunt Aggie letters about pubertal changes
Create a crap
Cryptozoology: recently i spotted the extremely rare Woman-uninterested-in-Great-Singapore-Sale (bitchus cleverus)
Viagraholics Anonymous
still digesting large amounts of masalas of various sorts. if you're adventurous, you could try creating some fusion food by whipping up some spaghetti or ravioli in prawn/tikki masala, topped off with shitake mushrooms done Japanese style. don't blame me if it turns out awful, blame your culinary skills or lack thereof.
Here in Singapore, we have this godamnawful institution that encourages graduates to get hitched and procreate, thereby producing more people to become workers for our captialist machinery and/or preferably well-educated, money-making drones of the managerial class in our technocracy. it's called SDU. our deputy prime minister would like us to believe it stands for 'Sexy, Desirable, Unique', but we know better.
as i said, it's for graduates only and fresh grads automatically become members (free of membership charges, for a couple of years at least). thankfully i'm still in school, but i already sense the sword of Damocles hanging over me. recently i received a SDU pamphlet from a SDU representative. i accepted it with the same trepidation as one would a lawyer's letter from one's spouse. and i quickly rid of myself of this evil propaganda by furtively putting it on a male (and hopelessly single) colleague's table while he was away.
The SDU veterans (at least they're married, proof that it might be of some use afterall) at my office assure me that it isn't as scary as it sounds. the programs used to be really tacky, but now they've gone to some lengths to make it at least worth our commuting expenses to attend- or so they say.
(Note: this wasn't directed at me, but at the hapless male colleague mentioned earlier)
'you know, the ladies there are of better standard than you think!'
(yeah, some of them actually have eyes that point in the same general direction)
'and the guys aren't particularly attractive. you'll stand a good chance'
'so if i take part in the activities, what does that make me?'
'errr... aiyah! don't think so much lah, just go there with an open mind to make new friends'
'but why would i want to make more new female friends?'
'hey, you can't always hang out with us married ladies for the rest of our working life right? don't make the mistake of thinking that all women are as shallow and materialistic as us'
'yah, thanks man!'
at this juncture, i slipped away clandestinely before they turned their attention to me.
Democrat ad (unofficial,i'm sure)
another political clip, this time
Blair goes Anarchic
Invisibility: another quality Japanese product
Glamourpusses 1
Glamourpusses 2
Subway Life
Got Insurance?
another freaky
Jap contest
Experimental sounds
the past week i've been staying so late at the office that the notion of sleeping in my cubicle for the night actually crossed my mind, albeit very briefly. now i understand why our birth rate remains precariously low. people are simply too dead tired to do anything after work, besides eating, sleeping and perhaps showering. it's possible to get away without performing body hygiene maintenance. either slap on copious amounts of deodorant or bathe in the morning, but i've done neither.
but i digress. sex, quite simply, is work. pleasurable, yes but still work nonetheless... especially for men unless the missus is feeling adventurous or wants to take the initiative. the last thing some men want to do after a hard day is to spend time cultivating their partners' mood and subsequently hump them. personally i would find it tedious to even blow up my inflatable doll.
you know about the ladies at my workplace. turns out their conversational topics are really no-holds-barred. imagine walking into a room where one's colleagues are having lunch and having to listen to them discussing their sex lives in detail. best still, one of them sought my advice regarding the male sexual response. i was glad to be of assistance. this occurred on only one occasion thankfully. i was more perturbed by their candidness about their husbands' performance rather than by any lucid account. my conviction regarding the veracity of the saying that women talk about men a lot more than men about women has invariably been strengthened over the past few weeks. it's frightening, from the men's point of view: how one performs at bedroom gymnastics is known by all of the female's close friends, and sometimes a pesky temp/intern or two. i don't want to walk down a busy city street someday and have my wife's friend, whom i happen to chance across, asking me to teach her husband my four-stroke piston trick. i'm busy enough as it is.
my apologies to any doctors (practising, in training, suspended or otherwise) reading this. i've had another bad encounter with a smarter-than-thou physician (there are a lot of those prowling the streets, waiting to pounce on unsuspecting patients, less well-educated nurses and so forth). at an interdisciplinary meeting, which i wasn't supposed to be there, i met a doctor, who shall remained unnamed, whom i thought was some esteemed psychiatrist (my misunderstanding is understandable given the nature of the meeting). she was unfocused on what others were saying, apparently more concerned with her incoming SMSes and delivered curt replies when asked to provide input. best of all, she gave a wildly inaccurate psychiatric/clinical psychological assessment when not asked to say anything concerning this realm. while i'm not the best student, i was aware (and awake) enough to sense something amiss. so i asked my colleague sitting beside me if i'd heard wrongly. she sharply whispered to me, 'i know, i know. she's a paediatrician.' either there's more cross-training in medical schools than i thought and she'd just forgotten her work, or somebody was trying to bullshit her way through. i mean i bullshit a lot too, but at least i'm smart enough not to bullshit in a room half-filled with experts on the relevant bullshitted discipline.
Bowman
Nursery Rhymes: The Truth
things overheard at a STD clinic
Cannibals
i actually had a weird thought about
this once... rest assured it was just a thought and i wasn't the protangonist
South Park out-take
Heap of Trouble: naked men on the rampage!!!
dancing cats
today i got an off day due to my exertions during the week... sorry to neglect my long-suffering fans
it's been an eventful week. you get a vague idea of this if i tell you that i've heard the word 'masturbate' at least 50 times in the course of work this week. and i learnt how a penis plethysmograph works, not that i've actually witnessed it in operation. if possible, i would like to try it myself.
the textbooks describing sexual deviance therapy are a little ambiguous about the whole treatment regime, so forgive me as i allow my imagination to take a little road trip. in most probability i believe that the plethysmograph would be linked to a electrical device which diabolically dispenses tiny, but all too acutely unpleasant, shocks to say the offender's scrotum (i have been trained by some US prison guards in Iraq). needless to say, we present the vict..i mean offender with his poison of choice, and zap him unmercifully when his member shows the slightest amount of tumescence. it's best to program the whole system to minimize the possibility of human interference by soft-hearted therapists. i've heard that men emit the most sorrowful and heart-wrenching sounds when their scrotums are under traumatic stress.
'you want half-dressed schoolgirls?'
'Nooo....not half-dressed schoolgirls!!!'
'too bad, we're gonna show you some pics anyway. fifteen-year-old Ginger coming up!'
'Please, i beg of you...nooo! at least tell me they are wearing bras'
'Uh-uh. all bra-less and fresh from washing cars for charity. oh, here's our girl'
'AAAAAARRRGGHHBWFUUUHHHWAAAH!!!!!!!!!!!'
You get the idea.
the ladies at my office have the strange habit of presenting plastic cards to cashiers in stores in exchange for goods, usually shoes or clothes. this behaviour is mildly disturbing. even worse, they find it rather entertaining to compare the size (and cost) of shiny rocks on metal bands around their fingers. evidently the latest and nicest specimen costs $8000, which they absolutely had to have. which they did. but according to unsubstantiated rumours, their husbands have been eating grass for lunch for the past two months. one of them roared at her husband for purchasing $170 shoes while she happily fuels the expansion of the Ferrogamo brand-name. i asked her if her hubby has ever pointed out the inate hypocrisy of her behaviour. she duly informed me that she lies about the price of her acquisitions, plus her husband is too house-broken to ever raise a ruckus about such trivial issues.
you have no idea how apocalyptic my visions are for my future of matrimonial bliss.
been coming home very late the past few days; work and post-work activities (of the decent sort)
Picturing women
International Karate
similar sounding songs
realistic
shooting games
Hotlanta Kink Test
How to control a runaway camel
beautiful agony
which Bob Dylan song are you?
been learning a lot at work, but i'm not obliged to share any of my newly imbibed knowledge with you. haven't had any brilliant ideas of late cos my ruminative periods have been severely curtailed by work and the associated fatigue. in any case i never or very rarely share my better ideas with anyone; you guys are sufficiently privileged to be reading my trash.
one thing about being surrounded by women about ten years my senior on average has revealed to me an apodictic truth: women talk a lot.... a lot, a lot of crappy stuff. my god, they can go on and on about the most irrelevant details, e.g the colour of toilet tiles. but having said that, i'm pretty happy to listen in. they have invaluable experiences and insights from 'the other side' to impart; actually i think they're just excited to have a young man, wet behind his ears, to brainwash. needless to say, most of them being mothers of young children (and auntie wannabes), they are studiously interested in my romantic life.
most of the time i believe i serve the function of token representative of the male gender in lunchtime conversations. for example one of them would present a scenario to me (one which they are currently engrossed in chatting about) and ask me how i would react. i'd duly obliged by saying something. upon which this follows:
'See! That's
exactly what my husband says!'
followed by a diatribe about hopeless married men (but i'm innocent!).
i think i've stumbled across a sociological goldmine: the group behaviour of (relatively) young, married, highly-educated female professionals. a part of me tells me they hold the key to unlocking the mysteries of the Universe; for men at least. it's understandable to speculate resonably that women behave very differently in their course of work, with men and with their gal pals. but i didn't realize how pronounced those differences are; for one i didn't know forty-year-old women with teenage kids giggled like schoolgirls in the presence of other females (for some reason, i don't quite count as a man. i'm more than a boy---oh, so cute!---to them, not that they said i was cute mind you).
today two of them remarked i would make a good husband; i suppose they were in their complain-about-hubby mood then, but it's still awfully sweet.
Awwww...... i'm blushing.
i have joined the ranks of the cubicle-dwellers. they call it a workstation, whatever. a cubicle by any other name is just as horrible. actually i occupied the informal unwanted document dumping ground of the office. but with a little housekeeping, it has become more or less inhabitable.
great. the first day and i'm already working overtime. except i don't receive overtime stipends. in reality, staying in the office well past five doesn't qualify as overtime. i call it 'let's-stand-around-gossiping-and-see-which-sucker-actually-goes-off-on-time'. but please i was actually engaging in productive activities; can't be helped when colleagues dump documents on your desk at 1645. for some reason or other, most of the paperwork that needs to be urgently sorted out miraculously materializes out of thin air around four. must have been the cumulative results of the past seven hours.
in any case i think i'll enjoy working here. lots of motherly figures around.
start of month, new blog title, i was just listening to Simon & Garfunkel.
for those who are vaguely interested,
the Constitution of Singapore, but i think it's out of date
some short movies which i wouldn't quite dare watch at work... but awfully intriguing nonetheless
The Good, the Bad and the Ugly
Velvet Vulva
celebrity look-alikes
sexy superheroines
Family Guy official page: read the online chat with Stewie
watched
The Big Sleep on TV a few days ago. for the uninformed, it's a 1946 film featuring Humphrey Bogart and Lauren Bacall, not to be confused with the recent
The Big Slut, starring the meretricious Rebecca Loos.
i participated in a trivia quiz on board a cruise ship when i was twelve or thirteen. in case you are wondering, cruises are pretty boring for kids who can't enter casinos and don't have enough money to stay in the video game arcade the whole day. anyway i thought i had a reasonably good chance of winning something, cos frankly i didn't expect stiff competition even for a prepubescent kid. bar quizzes, on the other hand, are keenly contested by yuppies with too much time on their hands and
Jeopardy winners. i steer clear of those. besides they always have a penchant for posing questions about 60s music. i know my Beatles songs, but i has never occurred to me to memorize the track listing of
Revolver.
yes anyway, a section required us (as in me) to write down the names of the romantic partners of given celebs and fictitious characters. for example, we were supposed to fill in Josephine beside Napoleon and so on. curiously i was stuck on Mickey Mouse for a while, till i remembered Minnie Ripperton (and her mousy squealin' on
Lovin' You). And next to Humphrey Bogart, i put Lauren Bacall. not that i had
The Big Sleep in mind, but i had the impression they were married (which they indeed were) and starred in a few films together.
But the putative correct answer was Ingrid Bergman. i asked the lady beside me why.
'Don't you know
Casablanca?'
'Yeah i do, but...'
'it's a classic, ain't it?'
'i see your point, but it's just a film isn't it?'
'So....?'
'Humphrey Bogart and Ingrid Bergman weren't married, right?'
'and...'
'so how does it apply here? just because they are famous as an on-screen couple in one movie doesn't make them one'
She shrugged.
Still, i won the whole damn thing. you can see i have a good memory for suffered injustices.
