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"Where's the after-party?"

That's what it said on Benjamin's shirt, as he winked at me through his dark rimmed glasses from behind the bar at DYMK last night.

And for some reason, it reminded me of this song. This tune makes me feel like I'm on a good trip after a hit, the kind of exhilaration people look for when attending after-parties.

Stoned, without a care in the world and really just dangling by the threads of your mere existence, letting the wind bring you to wherever it is you should have gone. And if you actually listen to it after say 20 shots of Tequila pops, you get this intense feeling of plummeting through space into a vast abyss of darkness, terrifying but strangely comforting at the same time.

Bogged down by work and bombarded by unreasonable requests from the people around, I guess that's exactly what we want to ask at the end of a long, hateful day, "So where's the after-party?"

So I attended the Raffles Hotel Christmas Tree Charity Auction last night. The tree that I was representing raked in $30,000 for the Community Chest, and since it was a holiday the next day, I decided to celebrate by allowing myself an extended alcohol intake limit for the night.

Bad choice mixing champagne with whites and then Gin Tonic. Argh.



Woke up in the middle of the night with a terrible headache and forced myself to throw up.

The last thing I remembered before dozing off beside the latrine, was seeing remnants of the six-course dinner floating around in a pool of bile. Nice.

Despite my tubby exterior, I succumbed to the seasonal flu over the weekend. Attempts to self-medicate with Zyrtec-D and Strepsils Dual-action have been futile, the flu like the flood in 2012, maintained its course towards total annihilation of my health.

So this morning, while chalking up a $17 taxi bill to work, I messaged my editor in between bouts of coughs, much to the concern of the driver who gave me dirty looks all along the way.

'Look dude, you can catch worse things by hanging out with your mainland hostesses at some dodgy KTV bar lor...' was what I wanted to say, instead I let out another deep throated cough and snorted, returning to my messaging.

"I think I'm down with Seasonal Affective Disorder," I typed, "I'm SAD..."
"There's no such thing, stop making excuses for being a weakling." she replied, yes, my editor is so kind.
"I'm sure there is, why else would Bears hibernate in Winter if they weren't SAD?"
"They are sleepy and fat, that's why."
"I wanna be a bear too then..."
"And that's why everyone at the office calls you Pooh..."
"They do???"
"...oops."
"Should I be offended?"
"Cos not, take it as a compliment."
"Er.... why?"
"They used to call you Piglet."

WTF!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I guess Mario Vivanco was going for the Greek Adonis look when he snapped this picture of David Gandy, I'm just not sure about the torso jutting out like that...

For those who'd like a printed copy, head to Dolce & Gabbana for the calendar.

Having gotten used to the ease of a Macbook, it's become a real pain now trying to adapt myself back to using Windows at the new office.

The close button is on the top right of the window instead of the left, the mouse is now draggy and tedious when I'm so used to just switching between views by sweeping my finger to one corner of the touchpad, and there are so many other minute but vital differences which make life just that little bit more unbearable having to use Windows again.

Sigh.

So get this, I'm not sure if I even want to openly discuss this, but I've been toying with the idea of getting this Braun Buffel boston bag I saw while shopping earlier. 

It started off as a whimsical, "Oh wouldn't it be nice if I got a larger bag..."

And then after holding it in my hands for a while, and turning it around, it became a, "Mmm... I could actually use this..."

Another five minutes later, "I think... I'm in love..."

And then a minute later, I uttered the words every gay boy yearns to hear, to the aunty sales assistant, "COME HOME WITH ME PLEASEEEEEEEE....." 

That got me quite distressed indeed.







But no, I didn't get it... yet. Even though it seduced me so, and disturbed me much.

At least disturbed enough to spend my precious free time upon my fruitless return, going through Braun Buffel's latest collections online instead of surfing through high-resolution images of almost naked Japanese swimmers on various undisclosed websites with my one free hand while horrendously outraging their modesty in my mind with my other. Naturally, when I realized what was happening, it made me even more distressed... so here I am, unloading myself since I've been rendered incapable of doing it otherwise... 

Ok I have a point to all this! And I'm getting to it! 

About the bag, I already have like five (actually its 15 if you count my backpacks and Deuters) stacked away in an untidy mess in the back of my closet, so why do I need another one?

Well, the way I see it (or rather, the perfect excuse I managed to cook up this time), a boston makes sense for when I need to chug my running gear, towel, water bottle, in addition to leaving enough space for actual work-related stuff like my Moleskin, pens, recorder, blah blah blah, that I like to bring along to work, in case I feel like being healthy and heading to the track. 

My current Porter bag, which has served me well no doubt, is getting too small for this purpose considering it's a quarter the size of a standard american carry-all. 

So where's the contention in all this? I mean seriously, do gay men really need to justify frivolous spending? Isn't that part of our charm? 

I'm confused much, because we're talking about putting out $650 for a Braun Buffel. The pricetag shock exists here because I've always regarded Braun Buffel as a mid-range departmental store label, obviously it's no Louis Vuitton or even a Porter by any means.

Braun Buffel to me, is like the man's version of Coach. The branding is neither here nor there, it's too expensive to be Mass, but not expensive enough to be something you can flaunt around with pride. Don't get me wrong, I love their wallets and would have no qualms buying more (aside from my Bulgari card holders, all my note holders have been Braun Buffels) because no one does Buffalo hide better than this German house, and most Braun Buffel wallets can easily outlast any of those designer togs if its solely quality and durability you are after. 

But wallets cost less than half of what that bag is asking for, and in gay math, for that amount you would have paid for an entire night with a really hunky mainland chinese rent boy who looks like Takeshi Kanishiro. Heck for that price, he'd even let you ride him raw and still have enough to ask him to clean up your kitchen and finish up all your cans of pineapples before he leaves... but I digress. 

The alternative is of course, to top up that figure and go join the queue outside the LV boutique at Taka.
"I want the carry-all in the damier motif, yes that big one on the top shelf..." I would say, shooting off my well rehearsed sidelong glance of absolute nonchalance to make sure everyone thinks this is what I do everyday... 

Not really practical, since I intend on using my new purchase on a daily basis and I'm not sure I want to squeeze and whack an LV bag around the way I usually do. Ouch.

How about going for the top quality designer stuff like Bottega Venetta you say? Every Italian will tell you a BV bag never breaks apart even if you run it over with an SBS Superbus full of fatties from the Moses Lim fanclub. Of course, the price to pay for those kinds of bags will also come with as many zeros at the end as the combined weight of all the fatties from the Moses Lim fanclub. So I think I'll put that idea on hold until Robert Redford comes along and offers me an obscene amount of cash for an indecent proposal on his yacht parked at Sentosa Cove.

I wouldn't mind a Birkin also, come on lor, like who would right.
"I don't care how long your ridiculous waiting list is, just get me my Birkin in alligator skin okay!" I would say, sauntering into the Hermes boutique next to Wheelock, ending my demand with an exaggerated 'Humph' at the end, like a jilted David Gan.
I guess what I do mind, is the amount of ass I will have to sell at Changi to pay for one. 

Anyway, the obsessed mindfreak that I am, I plan on dropping by the mall tomorrow again to look at the bag, and possibly try to look for something else that's ostentatious enough to distract me from the original desire. If it's got to be that price, hopefully it would be an Agnes B or something cool enough to be worth that much. 

But if I do get the bag, for heaven's sakes please please just tell me it looks fucking good on me whatever you really think okay. I beg you.
Be a true friend and LIE.

That's why I say, never go to heartland malls with departmental stores like BHG. They just try to make you spend more money on half-fucked brands, and you know what, they are doing quite well at it.
Wah, that sounded damn class lah, I better copyright this statement before some taitai rehash it at her next mahjong session. 

 

Look at the time... it's 0410HRS and I'm just done with work. Still have to go jog and finish my evening prayers, although at this time Buddha might be sleeping already. Arghhhhhhhh!!!!!!! 

Gotta sleep early, gotta sleep early. 

Now who do I have to freaking sleep with to get more time in a day?

 

I've never been to a Robatayaki restaurant here in Singapore, so when I was invited for a tasting by the director of Takumi Tokyo, I jumped at the chance. 

Tucked away on the second floor of Keppel Marina, I realised what an absolute gem the marina has been hiding for over a year when the director told me that the restaurant was the brainchild of two well known restaurants in Japan. Hinokiya and Madoy are famed for their specialisations in Robatayaki (charcoal grill) and Teppanyaki (iron griddle), both have spawned several outlets within Japan and this is their first venture out of it. 

Now people often mistake Robata with standard tabletop barbeque, things like Gyu Kaku offers, which is quite wrong. The whole point of Robata dining is the atmosphere it seems, because the cuisine originated from celebratory feasts in the fishing villages of Sendai. 

As soon as I entered the restaurant, the chefs (all Jap) looked up from whatever they were doing and called out from behind the Robata counter, and all the staff chimed in. Awkward much? Maybe. But it didn't take long for me to settle in, especially since I was offered a Sake toast, the traditional way. 

All through the night, the chefs walked around, bantering with the guests and asking if the food is to their liking. One chef even started teaching another patron how to grill fish at home. The mood was relaxed, jovial, the team breaking into a hearty Japanese chant from time to time to lift everyone's spirits. It felt just like a Summer Matsuri in fact. 

























Sake is poured into the glass first and overflows into the wooden cup outside, the drinker is supposed to finish the Sake in the glass first, followed by pouring the remainder from the wooden cup into the glass.



Takumi Tokyo is the only Robata restaurant here to use premium charcoal hearth to barbeque its food. You wouldn't think much of it until you actually see the food being presented because normal western-style barbeque meats (at its best) will come with slightly charred edges, but what came on my plate (served in a wooden oar, according to ancient practice) was perfectly barbequed with no charred bits at all. And yet, the skin of the fish remained crunchy and lightly salted, while the inside was moist and still oozing with ocean freshness. 



We also had a series of Kaiseiki courses, what impressed me most was the Salmon roe, which was totally unlike any other I've tried. You know how the standard ones come kinda soft and flat-looking, and the juice from the sacs simply flow out sluggishly when you bite into them? Well, these were at least four times larger than the standard roe, and each egg sac was bouncy and chewy without the usual fishiness. You roll it around your tongue first before having to use your molars to bite into them, and then they burst... and the goodness comes squirting out with a delicate flavour. Apparently, it's got such a unique texture because of its freshness, it just arrived from Tsukiji market in the morning and the restaurant receives such shipments at least thrice throughout the week. 



Next, we tried stuff from the Teppan section. They served us Grilled tomatoes from Kyoto, Black Pork from Kagoshima, Seasonal vegetables from around Japan and the Teppan staple - Garlic rice. The pork was crisp on the outside but unusually tender and fragrant when you bite into it. Of the seasonal vegetables, the grilled Chili from Kyoto was interesting because although it came with the seeds still intact, it tasted sweet, almost like grape in fact.

Andy also offered me some premium grade Miyazaki beef (not pictured), and even though I usually abstain from the meat for various reasons, I took a piece. Sure, it was my first taste of any sort of beef in the last 20 years (yes, it's been two decades since I've last had a Big Mac), so I'm no fair judge of what good beef should be. But this one did a magic trick in my mouth, it literally melted away, leaving nothing but a faint smoky  fragrance that makes you salivate even more. 




And he also very kindly surprised me with an additional course, Wappanabe (I know it sounds vulgar, haha). Translated, it means cooking with volcanic rock. They served up a bowl of stock in a wooden bucket before dunking a sizzling volcanic rock into the tub. The stock starts boiling immediately and you start dunking fish and meat into the broth, Shabu style. 



Dessert was Matcha Green tea Mousse, one of the Executive Chef's specialty. 



Executive Chef Tomohiko Nishi-san. He's young at the age of 31, but is already a member of Japan's Iron Chef Academy. According to Andy, this organisation is more than just the cooking competition, its the most highly regarded culinary association in Japan.



Another rare find at Takumi Tokyo, Kyoto-style Bentos. This is more of a full-fledged Kaiseki lunch set because there are four to five courses in all, and the main is presented in a quaint Bamboo basket. There are warm and cold dishes within, and the flavours are all delicate, which explains why its a hit with the ladies who lunch. The dishes change according to what Nishi-san has planned for the following month, so every basket is like a present packed with surprises if you order it regularly. Although at over $60 a pop and requiring over an hour for all the courses to roll out, it's not the sort of working lunch you'd expect to do on weekdays. 



Amazingly, for such freshness and range, Takumi Tokyo should be considered affordable by fine-dining standards. Expect to pay around $250 to $300 per person for dinner sets which consist of Robatayaki, Teppanyaki and Kaiseki Ryori. Another plus about this place, it overlooks Keppel Bay and the cable link bridge which is stunning by night. On the evening of my visit, they even had fireworks along the bridge. 

 
Mmm mmm, My Baby's got a secret... 



"Happiness lies, in your own hands,
It took me much too long to understand,
How it could be, until you shared your...
Secret with me..."


I don't know what came over me... but I had this sudden, huge, and unstoppable craving for the dark sin. 

I'm barely done with the Cadbury and now I'm reaching for the Snickers bar, well slap me silly and call me Susie, this night just got alot more darker...

I promise I'll run two more rounds at the track tomorrow, or have more sex to burn it off. 

Mom, if you're reading this, I'm kidding lar!!! 

I was re-watching Harry Potter the other day, when an idea came to my mind...

What if we could establish a gay college, just for the gays of our next generation? 

The objective of this institution is to make sure all our gay boys are properly trained before we send them out into the world. This way, it cuts down their learning time in the real world as well as preventing them from doing stupid things to make the straight population have more reasons to object to our existence. 

If the wizarding world can have Hogwarts, I don't see why we can't have our Cockwarts. Oh wait, that don't sound too good... let's stick to GTJC. 

There'd be three academic years, where only the top 10% of the cutest boys from each secondary school will be selected for enrollment. The ugly ones, I'm afriad, will have to turn straight or stay in the closet till their application for the Gay Extreme Makeover Scholarship (GEMS) has been approved. 

Year One, we'd teach the pre-requisites like setting up your own profile on gay sites, how to use a condom, types of water-based lubes (flavoured or unflavoured), to swallow or spit, deportment classes, efficient pick-up lines, how to act in a gay club, effective cruising skills for the street and at Cali gym, modern art, literature, watching all the seasons of Will & Grace, Brothers & Sisters and Sex in the City, memorising all the songs by Madonna, learning dance choreography to the entire Kylie Minogue Showgirl concert, learning to sing all the songs in Sandy Lam's Love, Sandy album, basic skincare and grooming regimes, learning to handle monogamy, learning to handle short-lived and shallow relationships, learning to handle open relationships, learning to handle break-ups  and choosing the right hair style.

Year Two is a streaming year, where you have to choose your courses. Students can choose from pursuing one of these three courses:
1) The lean, tan look - modules will include how to achieve the right tan, making sure your abs are balanced, beach volleyball, dragon boating, swimming, or if you fail at all these lessons, how to find a boyfriend who possesses all these attributes and an internship at a NUM outlet.

2) The emo, tall, skinny, bookish look - students who are accepted into this faculty must be at least 1.8m in height, modules include learning to play the electric guitar (with a crash course in perfecting Guitar Hero), reciting Shakespearean sonnets on demand, goth makeup 101, how to emote teenage angst and depression and an internship at a TopMan outlet.  

3) The cub look - Students will undergo rigorous eating and weights training. Steroid injections are strictly optional, although student subsidies will be given to interested applicants. Now because this is a very niche and targeted course in SIngapore, the school will offer internships at foreign attachments, like to USA for the World Wrestling Foundation, or Japan to join a Sumo guild. 
Oh, but if you become a full out Chub, we will suspend you. No, we're not evil, please lah, it happens all the time with SIA stewardesses also lor. 

Please note: We don't offer the elective for becoming soft-wristed Fashionistas because the last we checked, LaSalle SIA and NAFA already have that course. 


Year Three will be more serious, graduating students will be put through a series of practicals to see how well they perform, in bed. We can do this only in Year Three because they would have hit the official age for legal sex by now, however, knowing the insatiable lust gay boys have, the school has taken the initiative to teach proper condom usage and safe sex skills in Year One, because unofficially, we know you're already at it in Year One. Consider it our teacher's way of saying, "Hey I know you're fucking your classmate in the toilet cubicle, I just want you to know you can fuck me too."

Some essential modules for this year includes learning to deflect questions about your apparent singlehood from relatives at Chinese New Year, Hari Raya, Deepavali or other major festival gathering, learning to spend beyond your means, Fellatio 101, Rimming 101 and documenting your own sex clips 101. The graduating project will consist of students pairing up (groups of up to 8 are also allowed) to make a sex video, and correctly upload it in the right format to Xtube. Videos with more than 5,000 hits will be awarded extra points, and distinctions will go to those who can squeeze in a cum shot or two. 


I wonder if we can get this passed through MOE guidelines... hmm...


 

It's raining outside, what a wonderful night, 
Dew all over, my, what a sight, 
The grass is shivering, oh how the cold wind blows,
Setting my heart a quivering, as the yearning grows,
A dawn that's approaching, to chase the grey clouds away,
At five in the morning, of another brand new day...

 

I remember going to the school library when I was at the wee age of seven and stumbling onto this book with pictures of huge monsters following a young boy around. 

Flipping through the pages was like entering a different realm altogether, as the vividly drawn pictures drew me in with every stroke and trapped me in a world where I didn't have to think about tests and revision.   

Later on in life, I had the opportunity to relive that feeling once or twice, with movies like The Dark Crystal and Neverending story. Yet, none of them left as deep an impression in my mind as this book. 

So when I heard Hollywood had turned this into a movie, I was thrilled. What's more,having caught the trailer on youtube recently, I think Spike Jonze did a promising job with this adaptation. 

The movie is supposed to open on 16th November in the US, and I just can't wait for the wild things to show up here!

Here's a link to the HD version of the trailer.

 

This All Saint's day, I decided I wanted to be just like my idol Britney Spears. She's such a beacon of hope, from going mad crazy to getting her life back after dumping her loser ex. Hurhurhurhur

So anyway, I decided to go on YouTube to learn some Britney makeup tutorial, and this is a step-by-step of how I went from wanker to Womanizer...

Of course those tutorials never work, so in the end I enlisted the help of my minah girlfriend who works at a M.A.C counter.


1) Me: Freshly laundered, freshly shaved.



2) Foundation, Concealer, basically crap that can best hide pimples, dark circles, oh and er any stray stubble... hurhurhur



3) Eyes: Yes I know I have the very tiny Sandy Lam type... so I told the minah to go trigger happy with the smoky lids. One trick I learnt to make your eyes appear larger, use a white liner to outline the inside corner of the eye. Oh, and falsh lashes HURT majorly! They poke you in the eye like toothpicks, so the next time you see girls blinking at you, I'm sorry it's not because they have a crush on you, it's the lashes.



4) Face: I didn't know what minah friend did because I was too bored by then and decided to watch my nails grow or something... but I guess she added highlights to bring out my cheekbones and... er shit.

Can I just say I was totally grossed out with this picture... it just screams tranny lor.



5) And now for the final reveal...




The Result:

I looked NOTHING like Britney, but everyone still took pictures with me, so I guess it worked out.

 Hi hi everybody! How are you? 

I'm 19, currently studying Accounting and Finance at Singapore Management University.

In my free time, I love to act cute, Hello Kitty, soft toys, oh and have sex with my rugby playing boyfriend from ACJC, Sam Tong (I love him so much).



Now here I am, with my favourite soft toy Moomoo the blue pony! : ) don't you just love horsies so so much? They are fuzzy and make me squirm with absolute delight everytime I touch one. My best friend Jessica, from NTU, says she prefers stallions because they are nice and big and strong. She says she will show me a beautiful black one she found along Boat Quay next weekend. I didn't know they still allow horsies along Raffles Place, but maybe our government is trying to turn it into like Central Park, where you get to sit in those pretty horsie carriages. Anyway, I can't wait to ride my first black stallion! 



This is me again, with my favourite moisturizer! You know lar, the air-con in our super cold lecture theatres at SMU can be so so harsh on a girl's skin. It was my dearest dear dear Sam (I love him so much) who introduced this brand to me, he said it was going to make me super smooth and let things glide on my skin. Initially I was rather skeptical, because boys don't really know anything about good skin right, but I tried it on that night, and I was like so, so surprised lor. Thank you Sam (I love you so much).  Okay it might feel abit oily at first hor, but trust me after a while it just goes into your skin and make it shiny can. 

Did I mention I love him so much? 

Ok lah, I have to go back to doing my paper on compounding interest rates now. Talk to you all later okay! Love you! 

Oh and Sam Tong from ACJC, I love you so much. 

 
So on Wednesday night, after a day of negotiations which ended in an empty bottle of chardonnay, I decided to catch what I assumed to be the 'box-office hit and possible Oscar's nomination in a drama-category' equivalent of 'an upsized Mega-McSpicy stuffed with two whopping slabs of chicken meat', starring the whopping slabs Cameron Diaz and Jason Patrick, topped with generous dollops of Alec Baldwin and crunchy slices of Joan Cusack for good measure.

I brought my wet wipes, just in case. 

Because Alec Baldwin always makes me wet down there. 

No, I'm kidding (no not really, but let's save that for another time), I'm a sucker for drama. It irks me that I have to pay to see someone else's unhappy life when I think I lead a rather top-notch blockbuster hit of one myself, don't we all? 

But nope, aside from the consistently 'emo' soundtrack and Joan Cusack being able to do a 'tear on-demand within 5-seconds in a single shot' challenge, the rest of the cast was stellar but didn't really make me want to whimper (in my manly fashion).

And that got me wondering what went wrong with this formula, because the acting was top notch, the writing (by Jodi Picoult) was flawless, and the cinematography was well shot. Yet, it didn't manage to tug my heart strings the way the montage scene of the couple's lives from UP did, or when the father died in Big Fish, or when the cute retriever died in Marley and Me.

I'm not hard-hearted mind you, I just bawled like a baby when I saw that old lady throw the sapphire necklace into the sea in Titanic. I mean come on, we're talking US$20 million worth of blue rocks just chugged into the deep blue something like it was your ex-boyfriend's condom wrapper (or used condom), now who wouldn't cry at that!

I think it was probably because the subject matter was too heavy, which questioned the audience's notion of ethics and mortality. Throw in scenes of what chemotherapy and leukemia does to a 16 year-old, and it really sobers you up, leaving you too busy thinking about your own life instead of concentrating on trying to wring some tears so you can make your $6 movie ticket stub worth its price by using it to wipe the tears away first and then using the wet ink as an eyeliner to impress your friends. 

Ultimately, though it hit very very close to home and too close for comfort, the film just left me feeling very heavy hearted and burdened with worries about my own health, while I guzzle down the remaining large cup soda and sweet popcorn full of trans fats and calories of course.

Hmmm, maybe that's what's making me feel heavy...

So anyway, why should gay boys watch it? Well, because it's one of those movies you can go to with your date and try this following dialogue out on him after: 

(Out of cinema theater, pretend to be all 'feeling') 

You: Awww, that was such a saaaaad show (sniff), it really made me think about my life, about you, about me, about us. 

Him: Errr, dude it's our first date... 

You: Look, I want to tell you this in case I don't have the chance to ever again, I cherish our time together, I really do in fact, I think I love you...

Him: Right, look it was fun getting cruised by you at Absolute and all, but I don't think we should...er jump into anything, er... serious. 

You: Oh darling, I love how you always try to make the serious things sound so light because you're worried it might affect me negatively. You're so thoughtful. 

Him: Er dude, think I gotta go. 

You: Oh baby, I'm so depressed I don't think I can sleep alone tonight, will you come back and cuddle me to sleep? Please please pretty pleaseeeeeee... (pouty lips, but only if you look like Puss-in-Boots or one of the Wondergirls)

Him: Will you suck my cock and let me fuck you? 

You: Sure. 

Him Then hell yeah, let's go. 

(Tip: You might want to skip the order of pop corn and soda, in case he finds kernels shooting out of the weirdest places, if you know what I mean. You do? Good, because I don't.)

(Turns out you can actually use this dialogue at alot of other movies too, not just the sad ones. Just change the word 'depressed' to 'contemplative' or 'disturbed' or 'horny'. Incidentally, the last one works really well.)



 

The dull beams of a crude and unbearable morning sun, boring through slivery slits left uncovered by the folds of my sombre curtain, tore me from the depths of my unconscious. 

I stirred, frustrated. 

It's one of those days, to quote Holly Golightly in Breakfast at Tiffany's, "when you get the mean reds", those hateful days where you just want to throw up your hands and say 'I don't give a damn', because reality bites. 

That, or in her case, saunter down to the corner of Fifth Avenue and 57th Street in her gorgeous black Givenchy gown, peering through the windows of the boutique eating breakfast out of a brown paper bag. 

Well bite me reality, and bite me Holly Golightly, to hell with overpriced jewellery in baby blue packaging, all I want right now is to pull up my covers and go right back to bed. 

"My, someone's a tad grumpy this morning aren't we..." came the understatement of the year from my cellphone when I picked it up with my unceremonious 'What!'. 

"You reckon?" I chided with feigned surprise.

"Someone's in need of some carb loading." 

"Oh you SO don't wanna go there mister..." 

"Sounds like your moodiness just reached the level of Haeundae," he whistled, "I'd better inform the national emotional upheaval station before we see 2012 happening before our eyes." 

In spite of everything, I broke out laughing. Heartily. 

"There we go!" he sighed in relief, I could imagine the widening grin on his lips, from ear to ear, him running a tanned hand down the back of his neck, the way he does every time he completes a tedious chore.

"I'm rolling my eyes, just so you know." I smiled.

"Anything to prevent you from sitting half naked on the curb of Changi Coast road in the middle of a thunder storm," he quipped, "I'm not going to rescue you again okay." 

"Hey, it was just that one time!" i argued in my defense, "Besides, you were crazy to have stopped for a stranger, but crazier for finding my blog!!!" 

"I wouldn't normally, but you looked like you really needed help mah. And then someone had to pass me your link and I read what you wrote about our encounter and broke out laughing my ass off. It was too good a chance to miss, getting to see you again," he reasoned, "besides, I couldn't stop looking at your eyes when I stopped for you." 

That was when the alarm bells sounded in my mind, oh no, oh no, quick, find a reply for that... 

*awkward silence* 

REPLY! REPLY! SAY ANYTHING!!!!!! 

*awkward silence* 

"Er...hello? Still there?" he asked, puzzled.

"Yeah... well, I guess that makes me a true geisha doesn't it." 

And that's when he laughed as well. 

"Okay you, Sayuri here has got to go learn how to twirl a paper fan around, or else she can't pleasure her customers tonight," came my bad Jap accent, "Sayuri speak to you soon hai?" 

"Alright alright. Catch you soon?" 

"Hai, Sayonaraaaaaa!" 

*click* 

Selfish me, the first thing I could think of as soon as I ended the call was... "I've always thought my eyes are too small, what did he see in them anyway?" 

and then... 

"WTF? Is this straight guy having a crush on me???" 

and then, 

"Straight??? Come on, he likes Kylie Minogue, yeah right, straight my ass." 

and then, 

"And I wonder who gave him my blog link... hmmm. Oh just wait till I find out..." 

and then, 

"Oh shit, that means he can read this!!!!!!" 

hurhurhurhur

*awkward silence*



Continued from here

"Come on! Do it with Joanne, this will make your story even more interesting!" the base camp manager of the Via Ferrata wall insisted throughout his briefing session, explaining how we should climb and where to put our fingers and ropes into the following crevices and hooks.

"Oh I'm sure she's interesting enough without the climb." I assured him, shooting evil eyes from my editor, to the make-up artist and stylist, hoping someone would come to my rescue.

It's amazing how so many people can suddenly move away from range like a school of ikan bilis darting away from the net in unison... 

"I'll let you go first." Joanne offered, putting on the harness.

"Er, woman, you do realise that if I'm above you on the wall, my sweat's going to drop all over your make-up." I narrowed my eyes with an evil grin.

"And so will your fart." She quipped cheerily, leaving me speechless in protest.

Fortunately, tempting as the preposition sounded, the pret-a-porter garb I was dolled up in wasn't appropriate climbing attire, and no thank you, I will not change into the standard issue shoes and singlet they had on loan for such circumstances.



Spent the whole day at Orchard Central with YuZhu, it was fun because the team we had were great. The place wasn't too conducive for my interview with her though, so I decided to leave several more personal questions about her relationship out for the moment. 



And while waiting for the photographer to compose his angle, we pitted each other to a camera shoot-off. Me with my nondescript and very elegant Prada II, Joanne with her brand new HTC toy that worked more like a full-fledged camera.

Naturally, I let her win. *cough* I don't care if she says otherwise on her blog, she's lying.


"Say shouldn't you be climbing toooooo?"



The real reason why I wasn't climbing... too busy trying to scoot away with Trey's Birkin. 


Didn't work. 

Angelo Badalamenti's score for Twin Peaks always gets to me.

It's dark, roving and mysterious, making you feel like turning out the lights and hiding in a corner of the room, listening to the sound of your own heart beating, afraid. 

Furthermore, at 4 in the morning, my mind tends to stray down a spiral like walking through the whitewashed doorway, and into the Twilight Zone. 

They don't make warped stuff like Twin Peaks or Twilight Zone anymore, maybe because viewers have grown too distant from their own thoughts to appreciate the depths of the subject matter. Not that I ever understood much of what was going on in Twin Peaks actually, but it would have been good to have such shows available late at night, in case anyone feels like getting all 'emo' about life and want to find something better than repeats of 'Just For Laughs' to curl up to. 

Looking over at Whiskas, he's splayed out with his back on the ground, his furry paws pointing up. I called out his name and he snorted, shifting his lop-ears to a more comfortable position before propping himself up with his front paws to see what was happening. 

"I'm lonely," I whined to the rabbit who by now was already putting his head back down on the ground, "come keep me company?" 

Snort. 

Time for the backup. 

I crept up to the hamster cage and surveyed the surroundings, lots of fluffy white cotton but no furry white hamster in sight... darn. Tyra was sound asleep in her cavern, nicely tucked amongst her horde of sunflower seeds and straw. 

"Dude, you guys are supposed to be nocturnal!" 

She didn't even flinch damnit. 

I would have gone for my nightly run, except I had just popped a pill to stop the headache I got from watching a really jerky production of an action thriller. And I swear that's not a euphemism for amateur porn!

Last thought before I snuff out the candle by my bedside - Don't you just hate it when the person in front of you at the ATM takes his own sodding sweet time to do his banking, or in the case of some women, use multiple ATM cards to do fraud transfers or god knows what? 

It's one thing if you want to pay your bills or buy shares or take over the world at the ATM when it's not peak hour (like after Midnight), but it's just asking to be humiliated when you know there are ten other people behind you waiting to use the machine and you can afford to do your banking at the pace of a dyslexic patient trying to read the numbers off the screen. 

So for those people who are fed up with the ones who like to hog the ATM machines, here's my Top Ten list of bitch slaps you can scream at them.

Top Ten Bitch Slap Remarks for ATM Hogs

10) (If it's a guy) Yo dude, do you always take this long to withdraw? Not like you got alot of asset to work with wor...
       (If it's a girl) Oi ah lian, boyfriend never teach you withdrawal method issit? Don't make me go there and show you how I take mine out. 

9) Hey when they said you can draw cash here hor, doesn't mean you actually have to spend time drawing anything on the screen wor. 

8) Wah this exam paper got alot of options hor, take so long to finish. 

7) Do you need my fingers to help you count???

6) Staring at your account balance isn't going to make it grow you know, just like your body parts...

5) Eh, have you reached Level Ten yet? Are you figuring out how to kill the King? The AXS machine beside you can play WiiFit leh!

4) Eh you think this is a facebook game issit? Keep pressing and you can level up? 

3) Dude, if you love spending so much time with the ATM, go start your own bank lah!!! or Eh you think this one is your mother's calculator issit?

2) Go up behind him, pretend to look over his shoulder, and then giggle and run to tell the person behind you, "Oh don't worry, he won't take long, there's not much left for him to withdraw anyway..." 

and the Number One insult you can throw...

1) Oi! Ris Low, whose credit card are you trying to use this time?  

 
The idea had seemed novel at first, doing two together. It had been a fantasy to try something so risque, so shamelessly voracious.

Now offers had propped up a couple of times in the past, but I had resisted the urge, politely rejecting,  thinking it was just too unconventional and crude. I mean, what would people say if they knew?

But yesterday afternoon, while I was doing laps at the pool, the sight of those half naked tanned bodies became too much to take, and I decided to give in to temptation. 


So I dropped by the only place that provided me the opportunity and venue to get what I wanted, this time I didn't turn back after pushing past the glass door. 

It didn't take long for the right ones to catch my eye, after a cursory glance at what was available. I narrowed in on my targets, the flirting quick, the cruising short, and before long, we were looking for a private spot to do it. 

I gushed in awe as I uncovered them, they were huge. Yet so far into the game, I couldn't back out anymore. I just had to do it. 

So my hands went round the sides and I grabbed hold onto their buns, tenderly gorging both their bronzed, hard meats into my mouth. 

It was too much, my jaws ached and I could feel them all the way to the back of my throat. I tried salivating to ease their entry, my hands guiding more of them into me till I could taste their prickly bush on my lips. 

Suddenly, I felt their juices mixed with thick creamy splatters squirting down my throat. The sensation was overwhelming, and my eyelids fluttered as the euphoria tinged with animal lust overcame my senses. 

I had done it.

In my moment of ecstacy, I also realized something:





The new MacDonald's Mega McSpicy, with two pieces of chicken breasts CANNOT be eaten in one gulp, unless you're a dirty, dirty boy and don't mind having mayonnaise all over your hands.