Tinker, Tailor

I can’t believe it. Part four just happened.

* * *

I got a call from an unknown number.

“Hello?”

It was an unfamiliar male voice on the other end, but his connection was quite bad, so I couldn’t really hear what he was saying.

Probably called the wrong number.

Until I heard him mention what was unmistakably my name.

He continued slowly, telling me his company name. It was a client of mine.

Then I recognised his name. It’s the same guy who featured in part 1/2, and part 3. A felt something strange in my stomach.

“Yes I remember you,” I told him. Maybe I should have lied.

“I tried using the project today, but I think…” he went on to describe some problems with the project that I was working on but I couldn’t really hear him.

“Thanks for the feedback, but we’re not working on it any more. Perhaps you should be talking to Jane about it?” Jane is his colleague in charge of the project. Besides, it’s almost 10pm at night.

“Yeah… so, how have you been?” he asked. Such concern.

Must not let this conversation extend.

“I’m fine. Anyway thanks for the feedback. And…” I almost added “I’ll talk to you again” but that would have been a bad idea.

“… have a good night!” I concluded. Push red button on phone.

* * *

5 minutes later, I get an SMS from the same number.

Thought of adding you on facebook

* * *

10 minutes later, I realise that he sent me an SMS a week ago with his facebook URL, which I completely ignored.

* * *

Advice needed. Thank you.

I am still alive, but just quite occupied with certain unmentionable things

I should be back sometime next month.

My twitter will still be updated irregularly.

Just as I was about to close the fridge door,

Parent: “Eeeeyer! there’s a dead lizard in the fridge!! It’s so dirty and disgusting!!”

Me: “It’s in the fridge so it’s okay.”

Parent: “Such a stupid lizard!”

Me: “If I were a lizard, I’d choose to die in a fridge too.”

Parent: “Choy!”

Someone recently asked me if I’ve been stalked before.

“Nothing serious,” I replied.

Of course, they would want to find out more. But really, who likes to talk about getting stalked?

(That was a rhetorical question.)

But, being the nice obliging guy that I sometimes am, I shall describe the most recent incident.

Raffles City Shopping Mall, ground floor, men’s restroom.

Enter I, head straight to urinal #1 due to the urgency of the situation, and promptly proceed to relieve myself.

Enter middle-aged man with bright orange backpack seconds later. Walks past urinal #1 which I occupy, and parks himself at urinal #2, and proceeds to relieve himself.

The restroom has a row of around 8 urinals.

Men know that this isn’t a big deal if the restroom is crowded.

But if the restroom is relatively empty, i.e. the only occupied urinal is #1, and #2 to #8 is empty, you do not use urinal #2. You use urinal #4 to #8.

Breaking this rule can cause all sorts of misunderstanding which can result in arguments, fights or even death. Women will never understand this.

More importantly, you do not lean over to take a peek at another man’s urinary organ without permission as you leave your urinal. Like what the orange bag man just did.

As a peace-loving member of society, I decided to let it go, since there was only visual and no kinesthetic contact involved. I went to the basin area to wash my hands. He was there, combing his slick black hair.

He was at basin #1. I took basin #5, the one furthest away.

I washed my hands. With soap. Rinse. Took my time to salvage my bad hair day situation. Washed my hands again. Dried my hands.

He was combing his slick hair.

So I left.

He left shortly after, as I could tell from his reflection off the corridor walls. His orange bag made it obvious.

I’m not paranoid. I don’t see things. I won’t claim that someone is stalking me if I’m not sure, even though he parked himself beside me in the toilet and probably waited for me and he’s now 10 metres behind me walking in the same direction.

I turned into a place where he would have little reason to go to - the Robinsons cosmetics section.

Mr Orange Bag turned into the Robinsons cosmetics section. He had a reason.

I maneuvered around the section a little, and soon walked out the same way I came in.

And so did he.

Time for another routine.

I walked into the nearby Tommy Hilfiger shop, and pretended to browse around while waiting for him to come in. I would leave the moment he stepped in.

Smart fella didn’t follow me in. He knew that the Hilfiger shop is a dead end, while Robinsons shop has a few exits. He stood around outside.

It was getting a bit too freaky for me. Time to lose him for good.

I took my time to stroll out the Hilfiger shop, back towards the Robinsons cosmetics section. He started walking the same way as expected. Once I turned into Robinsons, I sped towards the escalator, went upstairs, then went upstairs again, went out of the shop, went to the opposite side of the building, and hung around a while to see if he would appear.

Mr Orange Bag was never seen again.

“So, what kind of girl are you looking for?” asked the girl whom I was having lunch with.

“First, she has to be really hot and pretty…”

“So superficial!”

“It’s not about being superficial,” I replied. “I’m actually being very holistic.”

“Holistic?” she probably never encountered that word before.

“Meaning I look at the person as a whole - but I start from the looks first.”

“That’s being superficial what. What if she’s a really good person on the inside?”

“I judge based on looks first. If the looks fail, then I don’t care how good she is on the inside. If she’s really hot, I’ll proceed on to look at how good she is as a person.”

She didn’t look too excited.

“Look,” I continued, “there are so many girls out there to pick from. It’s stupid to pick any random girl to see if she’s a good person first, then start deciding if you’re okay with her looks. It’s far more efficient to eliminate all the ugly ones first, then focus on the hot ones to find out more.”

“Okay lah okay lah,” she clearly wasn’t too pleased with my logic.

Then a smile flashed across her face.

“So,” she said sweetly and hopefully, “would a girl around my standard make it?”

I froze.

I looked at her uncomfortably.

I frowned.

“What??!?” she almost screamed at me.

“Nothing. Oh by the way the food here is pretty good!”

“Stop changing the subject!” She wasn’t so sweet anymore, “answer the question!”

“Uhmmm… you very sure you wanna know?”

Pause.

“Idiot!”

As usual, I haven’t been blogging much these days. But I’ve certainly been tweeting a lot today, particularly about the AWARE EOGM thingy at Suntec. So this post is really most of my tweets

I was actually seriously considering attending the event, especially after this MSN conversation:

Friend: you going?

Me: nope
Me: i got booked already

Friend: aiyoh
Friend: room full of women
Friend: and you get yourself booked

Me: but they’re mostly old?

Friend: no way!
Friend: a lot of young ones!

Unfortunately I was already booked by a friend who desperately needed me to help fix her computer. I’ve been trying to shed the reputation of being the computer guy since ages ago, but seems like I’m still cursed with it.

i regret not going to the EOGM. all the passionate women there. #awaresg

After I was done with being the nerd, the first thing I did after getting home was to check out Twitter.

wah #awaresg is the top hashtag now, even more than #swineflu

I was back around the time when they announced the vote results. The old exco won the vote 2 to 1. However, because the new exco weren’t legally required to resign, they went away to consider the decision.

And didn’t come back!

So it was declared that the new exco was history:

new exco now exexco #awaresg

I joined in the speculation as to where they disappeared to:

either the new ex exco has been abducted by aliens, or the Rapture has taken place. #awaresg

In Christian theology, the Rapture is an event when all living christians will be physically snatched away and transported into heaven.

Frankly, I doubt they deserve to be raptured.

By then, a lot of tweeters on the scene were tweeting about battery bars:

ladies and gentlemen, live tweets from suntec should be diminishing. batteries aren’t supposed to last that long. lucky i’m at home #awaresg

Anyway, guess what, Josie the new exexco leader appeared after 30 minutes:

apparently josie is back and wants to speak. *sigh* women ah… always want to have the last say #awaresg

She officially announced the resignation of the exco.

Some closure at least.

this aware thing is more fascinating than tv. not that i watch tv. #awaresg

By the time it was over around 9pm, many of those at suntec have been there for 8 hours or more:

761 women at suntec must rush home to cook for their husbands. please make way. 1414 other women will be having dinner at suntec. #awaresg

The 761 were those who voted for the homophobic exco, while the 1414 voted for the old guard. Yes, I can’t help making politically incorrect statements. (Many of the 761 probably believe that wives should submit to their husbands, according to biblical teachings.)

Anyway, I noticed something interesting about the whole episode:

constituents not apathetic and can vote + social & mainstream media same message + gahmen not involved. this is not the SG i know! #awaresg

And there will always be enterprising people out there:

wah aware t-shirts already on sale. how about Thio Su Mien masks for halloween? #awaresg

Doing my bit for AWARE.

The We Are Aware site.

Partly because I haven’t been blogging much, but mostly because I love women

Seems like everyone is complaining about the heat these days.

The heat is so bad that I don’t even feel like complaining any more, since the act of complaining would heat me up even further. It’s a good thing that it’s a little cooler this evening, meaning that I now have the presence of mind to blog - something which I haven’t been doing very much these days.

While the heat is terrible, it brings back memories of the time when I was still in National Service, when my battalion had to go to Indonesia for 8 days.

It was a memorable 8 days, mostly for the wrong reasons.

You see, the whole battalion was housed in the camp compound of an Indonesian army unit. Perhaps “housed” is a misnomer, since where we stayed was really a jungle clearing, with each platoon occupying a large military-style tent.

Within the tent, each of us occupied a safari bed (a low canvas stretcher-like bed with a light metal frame that’s easily dismantled) and some ground space to put our alibaba bag (the big military duffel bag).

It might have been a fun camping trip if it lasted for a night, but this was 8 whole days.

Let me try to recall what happened during the typical day:

5am or so - wake up, do your usual morning routine like brush teeth wash face etc.

Breakfast at the cookhouse (which was nothing more than a shed) followed soon after.

7am - After breakfast, it’s back to the tent, to do your own thing. Mostly just sitting around and chatting. Or reading for geeks like me.

10am - The sun is already blazing, and you start feeling the heat. Activity slows down.

11am - No unnecessary activity. Everyone is lying on their safari beds, fanning themselves, waiting for lunchtime.

12pm - Lunchtime at the cookhouse.

1-5pm - Back to the tent. Lying down. Fanning. Minimal activity.

During this period, if I had to do anything that required more than a few actions, I would break it down so that I could cool down in between. For instance, if I needed to take out a magazine from my bag, this would be the process:

1. Sit up on my bed (from the lying down position).

2. Fan myself to cool down.

3. Open the bag.

4. Fan myself to cool down.

5. Dig around the bag to locate the magazine.

6. Fan myself to cool down.

7. Take out the magazine from the bag.

8. Fan myself to cool down.

It took a while, but hey, we had 8 days to kill. In fact, by the middle of the week, I had finished all my books and magazines, as well as everyone else’s.

And during this time, if you do make the mistake of dozing off in your safari bed (something hard to resist), you will wake up to find a wet patch of sweat on your back and your safari bed.

5pm or so - Dinner time at the cookhouse again. This was the time I looked forward to, because it would finally get cooler.

Don’t ask me why we were doing this for around 6 or 7 out of the 8 days there. I was just a pawn. A baked pawn.

I’m beginning to get suspicious of guys who love green. Perhaps “love” could be an understatement, for you may soon agree that “obsession” might be a more accurate description.

My first encounter was some years ago when I was in a focus group. One of the guys there was this polytechnic student studying life sciences.

“I suspect that you like green,” I commented in my usual understated way.

“Oh I absolutely aDORE it!” came his rather emphatic reply.

But like they say, actions speak louder than words. He was in a green polo T, blue jeans but green canvas shoes. And green-framed glasses. And green plastic watch. And light green canvas messenger bag. His pen, of course, was green.

The somewhat ironic thing was that the first thing I noticed about him when he walked in wasn’t the green. It was the novel he was reading - a pink romance novel.

* * *

I was hanging out at Starbucks with a friend. Starbucks, as you might recall, has a green logo, and much of their decor is green.

And there, buried in his homework, was another guy who loves green. Green jacket, green slippers, green pen even.

And of course, how could he not have green nail polish.

Update below.

A friend of mine was showing off her jade ring to me.

“What the hell is that thing?” I asked, referring to the strange design on the ring.

“It’s a rooster.”

“Oh a cock,” I responded.

Then it occurred to me, “it’s a cock ring! HAHAHAHAHAH!!!”

Yes it’s lame, but I found it really funny then. She didn’t.

Update

Just got a complaint from a friend:

WTF
i clicked on your cock ring post
and out came a wikipedia entry with someone’s dick
and i’m in the office lol

Okay people, don’t say I didn’t warn you. The cock ring entry on wikipedia is NSFW!

Long time ago I blogged about my interactions with Zac, now 8 years old and still loves animals. Read those posts at Me vs Kid part 1 and Me vs Kid part 2 before reading the rest of this.

After a short conversation where he told me about certain species of otters and squirrels and other animals (I can’t remember the exact names) that are endangered in Singapore (which left me feeling a little inadequate), he excitedly asked,

“Do you know what I want to be when I grow up??”

“No idea. Maybe… a fireman?”

I knew it was gonna be some animal-related thing, but I decided to play dumb.

“Nope! I give you ten tries to get it correct!”

“Zookeeper!”

“Nope.”

“Zoologist!”

“No.”

“Dog trainer?”

“No.”

“Butcher!”

“No!!”

“Cook! Cleaner! Garung guni man!”

“All wrong!”

“Uh… I guessed ten already. Give up!”

“One more try!”

“Teacher!”

“No I don’t wanna be a teacher!”

“Okay then what do you want to be?”

“You know the loch ness monster and bigfoot all that? I want to be an investigator to see if they’re real or not.”

“I see, that’s very interesting, “I was careful not to say anything that might discourage him, “I would love to know if they exist or not…”

“You?” he looked straight at me and asked, “what do you want to be when you grow up?”

I stood there for a few moments, blinking, and not quite sure what to say.

Update below.

I need a 100-plus, I tell myself as a vending machine comes into view. The machine has 100-plus, only 90 cents a can.

Unlike my unluckier days, I have my wallet with me, with plenty of coins too.

I pop in a 50-cent coin. It goes straight down to the coin return compartment.

I pop in another 50-cent coin. The same thing happens.

I then notice that the vending machine isn’t on. Drat.

As I collect my two 50-cent coins from the coin return compartment, I notice a 1-dollar coin. And a 20-cent coin. And a corroded 50-cent coin.

I’m suddenly $1.70 richer.

* * *

A friend dropped me near my place after dinner yesterday. As she was about to drive off into the junction, I noticed a car approaching, and it looked like my friend didn’t notice, so I shouted at her. She almost got hit.

Earlier that day, I was in a cab rushing to a meeting. As we neared the destination, the cabbie kept glancing to the right to see if it was the right place to turn. About 30 metres ahead was a stationary car waiting to turn right. The cabbie looked ahead. 20 metres. He looked to the side again. 10 metres. 5 metres. I shouted at him. Screech. Silence.

* * *

Giving up on the 100-plus, I walk to the nearby hawker centre to get sugarcane juice. The aunty refuses to accept my just-acquired corroded 50-cent coin.

I shall be looking out for vending machines.

* * *

Update

Spotting a vending machine just now, I had to quench my thirst for 100-plus. And of course use up that corroded 50-cent coin.

I pop in the 50-cent coin. It goes straight down to the coin return compartment. All the drinks are sold out.

I try the adjacent machine, which sells 100-plus, but in a cup. Each cup costs 50 cents, which is perfect. I pop in the 50-cent coin, and the buttons light up.

When I sipped the 100-plus, it didn’t have enough gas, it tasted a bit bland, and I had to be careful not to imbibe the 3 floating ants.

Note to self: you get what you pay for.

Update below.

Quick note to self (but too long for twitter):

If you ever decide to walk out far (i.e. 15 minutes) for lunch alone, do not wait until you’ve reached your destination before checking to see if you brought along your wallet.

Ok. Off to lunch again.

Update:

A friend told me I should have borrowed some cash from a hot chick.

Well, I didn’t see any hot chicks around when I realised I didn’t have my wallet, nor did I see any on the way back. But I admit it’s a brilliant idea. Could have gotten her number, and eventually ask her out to dinner as a token of my gratitude. Why didn’t I think of that.

Updates below.

“I’m going to the Kumar show,” a friend told me.

“The Kumar show???”

“Yup, you know Kumar? the funny tranny guy.” People often think I don’t know local celebrities, which is actually quite true.

“I know lah. I’m also going.”

My first experience with Kumar was around the time when my National Service ended, and my army unit organised this farewell dinner event at this hotel ballroom.

Kumar was the host and entertainer for that night.

Besides him being funny and all, I don’t remember very much from that night, except for the part when he called some guy up on stage. That guy who came on stage then started groping his boobs. He did it a few times.

I was getting a quite disgusted.

Then Kumar, who was getting a little annoyed by then, decided to do a cartwheel out of the blue.

I grossed out.

You see, you don’t do cartwheels when you’re wearing a skirt, and beneath the skirt you’re wearing a pair of thongs, and beneath your pair of thongs you’re a tranny.

That was the Kumar “show” I remember.

Thankfully my table was at the far corner of the ballroom, so I didn’t see much. But it’s still indelibly etched into my mind…

Anyway I’m going because I got free tickets from Dream Academy, the company running the show, much to the envy and disgust of my friend, who has to pay for the tickets.

“Of all their shows, they have to give me tickets for Kumar’s show,” I told her, “I’d rather they give me this other one which has the Dim Sum Dollies.”

I was referring to Sing Dollar, a comedy musical about money and geylang starring a few others like Hossan Leong, Najip Ali and a few others. Including Kumar. But at least there are real women on the show.

“Then you still wanna watch?”

I think my friend was trying to get me to part with my tickets.

“Well although he’s gross, he’s still funny. It’s like one of those things that are really disgusting, but you can’t stop yourself from watching.”

I just hope he doesn’t do any cartwheels during the coming show.

Updates:

If you’re cheap and want free tickets, head over to mr miyagi’s blog.

Otherwise, you can try something like this if you have me on msn:

Friend: who are u gonna bring to the kumar show!

Me: y?

Friend: *skips arnd*

Friend: *skips gaily arnd*

Me: y u skipping around

Friend: *skips gaily arnd you*

Friend: im trying to get you to pick me

Me: *yawn*

Friend:

Friend: dun be a meanie

Me: u too late lah

Friend:

Friend: i dun friend you liao

If I ever had a kid (assuming that I don’t already have any), and if the kid ever decides to throw a tantrum, I’ll make sure they get a good caning.

I wouldn’t want them to end up in Youtube when they grow older, like this HK woman who missed her flight.

I was doing some work at a client’s place this afternoon, so they parked me in a room.

It was nice of them because only the big bosses had their own office rooms like that - everyone else there had to be in a cubicle. In fact, the room I was in was adjacent to the office of one of the bosses.

It was just a matter of time when I heard a voice from the next room, given the lack of sound insulation. I could hear practically every word the person in the next room was saying.

Which was a little worrying, because just a few minutes before I heard the voice, I let out a rather loud groan when I realised some mistake I had made. Thankfully I didn’t utter anything comprehensible.

But I soon forgot about my groan when I heard the voice.

It was a female voice. She was speaking on the phone, sounding rather sweet, or even cute.

Then I thought - there’s no way she’s a sweet cutesy young thing, since she’s a boss.

Okay maybe she’s a hot old thing, like Angelina Jolie.

I eventually ventured out of my room to take a peek.

I never knew old hags could sound so sweet.

Improbability is…

walking along the street when a hot girl brushes past you as she overtakes you…

and when you overtake her, she accidentally bumps into you…

and when you both look at each other, you both realise you’ve seen each other years ago, but never talked…

and now it’s finally time to get acquainted.

I was at a bus stop along Little India when I saw this.

Don’t ask me what they’re doing. You just have to look closely.

Those read this blog or know me well enough would know that I’m no fan of Chinese New Year.

I even wrote 3 years ago 10 Reasons to hate Chinese New Year.

My first reason in that post is

1. CNY music sounds horrible. It’s playing everywhere, ad nauseam, ad infinitum. And imagine - as long as you’re in this region, you’re gonna have to listen to that stuff every year for the rest of your pathetic life.

Unfortunately, it’s gonna be that way forever. CNY music is meant to be noisy and annoying, to scare away the mythical Nian monster.

(I wonder if the Nian monster has anything relationship with Santa Claus. But that’s another story.)

What’s quite different this particular CNY are those friggin’ annoying ‘niu’ and ox-asperating puns that have been going around. wtf.

For those of you who will be interacting with long-lost relatives who mysteriously appear out of the woodwork this time of the year every year, don’t forget some 10 ways to get the when-are-you-getting-married relative to shut up.

As for me, you’ll know what I’ll be doing on CNY.

p.s. notice that all the gongxifacais last year and the red for luck and mandarin oranges for gold didn’t seem to work for most people? Face it - all the well wishes on CNY won’t make an iota of difference.

Seems like most bloggers don’t seem to be interested in joining the Association of Bloggers (Singapore). Some are even ridiculing them.

Come on, they haven’t even gotten started - we should give them a chance!

10 reasons why I’m joining the Association of Bloggers (Singapore):

1. It is led by a heroic woman who will fight for what is right (using a chopper).

2. You don’t want to be left out because she also has a large network of contacts.

3. They have a lot of credibility because they are now a legal entity and endorsed by big names in the Singapore blogosphere.

4. You get to learn how to be professional - without the flaming and constant bitching wars among bloggers.

5. There are no cliques or in groups - ALL Singapore bloggers are welcome!!! (Please wait for the invite and approval by the Council.)

6. You won’t be like loose sand anymore. You can finally stand up against the foreign tyrant!

10. The $110 fee for the first is very cheap. Really! Come on, you think everything can be free, like blogspot?