Tuesday, October 30, 2007


Can't really sleep. Have this niggling thought at the back of my mind. Maybe if I get it out, the Sandman will pay me a visit.

姑娘. Pussy. Wuss. Over the past few weeks, I've been called these and more. Some of you didn't say it to my face, but your eyes, actions and words have betrayed you. Others have been more forthcoming. I appreciate the candor.

When I step back and look at it myself, when I analyze my demeanor and actions, I find it difficult to disagree with you all. But when you have a blade protruding from the middle of your sternum, it's kind of hard to carry yourself properly, you know?

"Suck it up. Stand up. Be a man." Advice I've heard ad nauseam. The way of expressing it and the persons of origin may differ, but the meaning is the same. Guys do not mope.

They do not mope. Period.

It's expected of them. Even after the most ghastly of wounds, if you have functional limbs, you're expected to stand up, and carry on walking as if a butterfly flew past your face, brushing your cheek with its velvet wings en route to its destination.

It's advice I'd have dispensed myself, if I were the doctor.

Maybe it's the result of these sleepless nights, but I've come to think that there may be a reason why guys are insensitive. When you're hurting, and you're expected to keep on going, it helps if you're able to block out the pain, to blind yourself to the fact that you're bleeding your guts out. Over time, this causes you to lose touch with your sense of feel (no pun intended). Kinda like a Stim pack.

Thanks for all the advice. I know you guys care and mean well. I'm going to act on your advice.

Getting up. Dusting myself off. Moving this tub 'o lard. Right foot. Left foot. Right foot. Left foot. Wash, rinse, repeat.

And it's all because I'm comfortably numb.

Monday, October 22, 2007

Sistic SUCKS.

Just got back and have somthing to get off my manboobs.

Sistic SUCKS.

9am. Internet booking for Jay's concert begins. I try to log on, but to no avail. Http 500. Kept on trying till 0945, gave up, and went to try my luck at the Sistic counter at J8.

When I arrived, there were about 5, maybe 6 people in front of me. It took 40 minutes to make 1 sale. 40 minutes! No fault of the lady manning the counter though. She was as helpless as us.

Click. Wait. Wait. Wait. Wait. Wait. Timeout.

Yay, we get to do that ALL OVER AGAIN! WHAT FUN!

After 2 sales, they announced that the 1,000 $198 and $168 tickets alloted to OCBC for priority booking were sold out, and they could not sell any more. AFTER 2 SALES AT J8?! Did somebody buy 300 seats at one go or what? Disgruntled mutterings began to break out behind me.

Ahead, the poor lady was still frantically trying to call through to wherever, trying to find out what was wrong with the system. Nobody picks up. She tries several times, Maybe different numbers, maybe the same number, I'm not sure, and it doesn't matter anyway, because she gets no answer. The customer at the counter gives up and storms off.

The next customer is a bigger Jay fan and sticks to her position. Her tenacity pays off. The system finally accepts more sales for $198 and $168 tickets again. Maybe the Sistic people that were supposed to answer the poor lady's calls were handling complaint calls from the irate customers behind me instead.

Still, the system is really sluggish. It takes an hour to clear the remaining 2 customers in front of me. $198 tickets are almost sold out. Only sporadic single seats, scattered all over, are left.

The concert had better be worth it.

If Golden village and Shaw and Cathay can handle thousands of bookings over the Internet, phones and their counters at the theaters everyday, I don't see why you can't Sistic. Shame on you.

The scene after I got me my loot. Good luck to those at the end of the queue.

$900 bucks for 6 pieces of paper. I must be mad. I wonder what these would fetch on eBay.

Saturday, October 20, 2007


Finally got my paddle.


But part of me still hankers for one of those gorgeous carbon fiber paddles.

Oh well, I'll get one if this one breaks. Yes, they do break.

Or, are there any kind souls out there willing to buy me one? :D

Monday, October 08, 2007


Something in me broke today.

Not broke as in break down.

Broke as in... I'm lost for words, so if you wanna know, read on.

Golden Village, box office.

2 queues, both empty.

One was the normal queue, one Visa "privileged" queue.

One counter open. Serving one customer.

I walked into the Visa queue.

50-ish lady in white walks into the regular queue.

Customer at counter finishes transaction and leaves. I step aside to let customer leave.

ZIP. Up goes white lady to the counter.

"What the hell?" Me, thinking to myself.

Normally I would have just kept quiet.

Not today.

Today, something within me snapped.

Walked up to the counter before I knew what I was doing.

"Do you know there's a queue?" Me. Quietly assertive.

She looks blankly at me.

"I've been queuing right there. It's my turn." I continued.

"That's the queue. I've been queuing there." She counters, gesticulating at the regular queue.

"I know. I saw you. You arrived after I did. And you cut ahead of me when you saw me giving way to the other lady. What the hell, man?"

"That's the queue." She insists. "Which one's the queue?" She asks the person at the counter.

Counter person says the regular queue, but looks away from me when I look her in the eye.

"See? That's the queue." White lady shoots at me.

"Doesn't change the fact that I started to queue first." I reply.

"You know what? It doesn't matter." She starts fumbling for the cash and ICs the placed on the counter. "It doesn't matter." She repeats herself, stepping back.

I step up and order my tickets. Counter person does not look me in the eye the whole time.

Transaction done. I turn around and snarl "Thank you." to White lady.

Not very gentlemanly, but damn, that felt good.

I'm sick of being one. Time to get me what's mine.

Get the hell out of my way.

Sunday, October 07, 2007

A picture speaks a thousand words.

I never really, truly, knew what it means until today.

Now I do.

I'm not going to post the picture in question.

I just wanna say:


Wednesday, October 03, 2007

Unker, Mahporlor Mantor Jit Pao!

Ripped this from Don²'s blog.


Kinda makes sense, in a "Nothing can hurt me, I'm in my happy place" kind of way.

I've always wondered why people smoke.

Well, Sean, here's one reason.

Bak too sKool

Apologies for not posting. I've been struggling with the last post for quite some time, and finally I decided it's best left for my own personal consumption. Not gonna post that shit.

And many thanks to those who wished me Happy Birthday and/or celebrated with me. Thanks for your wishes and presents and cakes. I enjoyed myself. Please excuse my tardiness. I'm... a mess.

Anyway, it's back to school. Didn't get a word of what the lecturer said. Maybe I deliberately didn't pay attention. Maybe he wasn't clear enough. Maybe my mind was all over the place. Maybe it's all of the above. Maybe it's none.

Who cares?

I certainly don't.