Tinker, Tailor

I was hanging out with a friend, and she was lamenting about guys who keep stalking her. Maybe she was hoping I’d stalk her as well. Being a good friend, I offered some advice:

Me: You should get yourself a bodyguard.

Her (looking at me incredulously): Eh you’re too skinny lah!

Me (mildly offended): Eh I didn’t say I wanna be your bodyguard! Besides, I’m not exactly that small!

Must be my loose clothing.

More recently, a someone who found out that she had sat through one of my presentations before told me

ok, i can’t remember how [the presenter] looked but i thought the ppt was brilliant. it’s you?!

And later:

i seriously cannot recall how you looked like. i think you’re quite thin though.

Damn. For the record, I am not skinny nor thin. The proof is that guys don’t tell me that I’m skinny.

They tell me I’m big.

Like when I was in the army, my platoon mates always tell me that I’m big. No, not because they’ve seen the private areas of my anatomy (I normally try to keep it private).

Here’s what I often hear:

“Eh you ought to be carrying this signal set. You’re so big-sized!”

“Eh you so big-sized you should be carrying more!”

“Hey you so big-sized why aren’t you carrying the missiles?”

I wish they had a female perspective.

Well that’s just army. There are instances in real civilian life where guys tell me that I’m big as well.

Especially when I’m playing basketball:

“Hey you guard gorilla - you’re the next-biggest around here.”

I hate it when they tell me that. Cos gorilla is this huge hairy Finnish guy we often play with who’s around 1.9m tall and weighs around 100kgs. It’s never fun when he slams his elbows into your ribs. And for some reason, nobody wants to guard him.

What I hate more is when a particular guy tells me this:

“Hey you guard gorilla - you’re big.”

Notice he doesn’t say “you’re the next-biggest guy”. That’s mainly because he’s around 1.83m tall, and he lives in the gym, and he has serious chest and abs and biceps and triceps and he’s the next-biggest guy. But remember, nobody wants to guard gorilla.

“Hell I’m not guarding gorilla!” I’d retort. Nobody wants to guard gorilla.

“Okay okay we’ll take turns!” Nobody wants to guard gorilla. But somebody has to.

But back to my main point.

I don’t understand why girls say that I’m skinny, and guys (except gorilla) say that I’m big. It doesn’t make sense.

Ah well. Since when did girls make sense anyway.

After a heavy buffet lunch, I proceeded to fill my full-sized plate with dessert.

At Cafe Swiss, Raffles City.

There goes my diet.

I’ve been offending people on my blog lately - none of these I know personally. So for a change, I thought I’d offend some people I know as well.

Particularly the girls I know.

(I guess I could afford to do it.)

It must have started during a conversation with a friend…

“I’m a princess you know?”

“A what??” I did hear her, but it was too difficult to swallow.

“A princess,” she repeated. She looked so serious that I forgot to laugh.

“Rrrrriiight…” I was trying to think of what to say. Should I mock, or just pretend that I believed her and save the mocking for later?

“I must say that you hide that fact rather well.” I decided to mock.

Let’s just say that what followed wasn’t very pretty (no pun intended).

Anyway, I later observed that only the female human species have such fantasies. On blogs and MSN nicknames and forum screen names et cetera I’ve seen so many a girl calling herself some kind of princess. Or diva. Or queen. Or even goddess.

Ah, one of the many mysteries of the female species.

P.S. If a guy calls himself ‘prince’, he’s probably a closet gay, a lunatic, or he’s really one.

I don’t know Alfian personally, but I’ve read some of his writings, and he’s helluva talented guy.

So I got pretty pissed when I read about his termination as a relief teacher.

Once I cool down, I’ll send an email to Mr Tharman, the minister of education, to ask for an explanation.

I encourage you to do the same - do your bit for our education and our future.

For your convenience,

tharman_shanmugaratnam[at]moe.gov.sg

(Via Tomorrow.sg: Alfian Sa’at’s Unexplained Termination)

Had a great cup of cappuccino at the lovely Global Sounds cafe. I’ll definitely be back there when I’m in the area.

268A South Bridge Road
Singapore 058817

A few years ago, I was talking to an older friend, who happens to be well-respected and well-known.

I asked him how he remained sane in this country, with so many things he had issues with.

You just have to pick your battles, he told me. Don’t try to fight in every front - just pick those that are worth fighting.

I learnt something that day.

* * *

A number of people asked me about the previous post, why I removed a picture just because a few people were unhappy about it.

A friend of mine even called me a “pussy” for doing so.

I would have felt hurt, if I wasn’t sure of what I was doing.

I’ve long learnt that it’s easier to fight things like ignorance as compared to things like stupidity or hypersensitivity. If one is ignorant, you can still educate them. Hypersensitivity is a character trait, and that’s very hard to change. Stupidity is even worse, because it could be something one is born with.

So I try to avoid unwinnable battles. (Ok sometimes I still go ahead, just for the fun of it. It’s a form of sparring.)

* * *

I’m very busy these days. Flooded with emails (nothing to do with this blog). I still have emails from yesterday that I haven’t read yet, so if you happen to be waiting for me, please bear with me. I’m busy blogging this post.

Update:

Thanks to the outrage expressed in the comments, I’ve removed the offending pic.

* * *

Yes, I know I’m mean, evil, heartless, depraved, unkind, wicked, yada yada yada.

But here’s the picture. Come on - you couldn’t have resisted if you were me.

[picture removed]

P.S. if this leg belongs to you and you feel upset, let me know and I’ll be happy to remove it. The pic, not your leg.