Tuesday, June 27, 2006
WC Revelations

Saudi Arabia: The WC just isn't the same without them.

And what about South Korea? What about them?!They won against the only African team that doesn't know how to play football, drew against a team that doesn't know what a goal looks like and lost against a nation known for its chocolate, watches, secret bank accounts and the Alps. What a great footballing nation...and I still have not forgiven that jerk Ahn Jung-Hwan for scoring against Togo and making me lose money.

Ahn Jung-Hwan: Good for scoring against Togo, running naked on beaches and making me lose money only.

2. The greatest actors in the world are of Italian descent

Come on, you know the great Italian actors. You can name them. It's so damn easy...

Marcello Mastroianni, Robert De Niro, Al Pacino, Leonardo DiCaprio, Roberto Benigni, Francesco Totti, Fabio Grosso.

For Signor Grosso truly proved his mettle last night. Proved that, once again, when it comes to the great art of theatre, the Italians are unparalleled craftsmen. It's in their blood. It's so much a part of them, they can't wait for a chance to show off anytime, anywhere they can. And so Signor Grosso puts on a performance that De Niro would be hard-pressed to come up with. God, I can't wait for Oscar season already...there can only be one winner.

Fabio Grosso: Great Italian thespian, part-time footballer.

3. You don't need looks nor charisma to reel in mei meis

Please take a look at this face, gals, and tell me you don't want to shag this man's brains out. Ohhh, that receding hairline, that genial grin, that pale and pasty complexion and those wire-rimmed glasses. It screams SEXXX (with 3 Xs)! Ok, only if you are a member of the SAVH.

Why oh why then, does Sven-Goran the man get to go hot and heavy with some of the finest looking women on the planet? It's not his looks. And it can't be his charisma. The man makes the bench look animated when he's sitting on it during matches. Unless, well, you like talking to and making love with inanimate bodies. So what can it be?

Well, I guess he must have a Bazooka hidden in his pants and he uses it to threaten women so that he can ravish them.

4. Singapore men: Best in Asia

Amidst all the mediocre Asian men on display in the WC, one man has stood out to be the Best Of the Best (aka BOB). Step forward, BOB (aka Shamsul Maidin)! BOB has shown that Singapore men are the best specimens of Asian manliness during the WC.

Cool, smart, unhurried and always ready with a red card (red is, after all, the colour of passion and we, Singapore men, are full of passion and full of luuurve...so come on for some luuurving, ladies), the man is pure poetry in motion. He gives Asian men a good name they doesn't deserve (except we Merlion men, of course).

But above all, he showcases what fine specimens Singapore men are. So women of Asia, come come to Singapore now and let us, Singapore men sow our pedigree seeds in your holy loins. Spread the good genes around. Before long, by 2050, the WC will only be officiated by Singapore men...but we still won't be able to send a team to play in the WC.

BOB: This way to Singapore men, ladies of Asia!

5. Africans have the best names

Gilles Yapi Yapo, Chouki Ben Saada, Marc Zoro, Joao Mamona Lama, Antonio Lebo-Lebo...the names just roll off the tongue...

Hang on a second, we are the land of Beckham Huang so who are we to criticise? I am just waiting to name my daughter Sharapova really...

Maria Sharapova: My daughter will be named after her and she better looks like her as well...

6. Kopitiams are for eating, not watching football

Especially when the kopitiam is fcuking downstairs and during the 3 am match, every time a goal is scored, those nocturnals scream at the top of their voices "GOOOOAAALLL!!!" while the rest of us are sleeping.

GOAL YOUR BLOODY HEAD LAH, @#$%^&*.

Monday, June 26, 2006
Little Thoughts

A week is a long time when everything around you seems to be going off at the same time. Especially when most, if not all, the things in question are bad...

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My fears, indeed, my mum's fears have been realised. She has been diagnosed with breast cancer and the tumour is malignant. There are fears that it might have spread to the skin and she is undergoing tests to ascertain whether other parts of her body has been affected. She has been scheduled to undergo surgery on 5th July where her left breast and one of her lymph nodes will be removed. It has not been an easy time.

I was in the room when the news was first broken to my mum. As I was sitting behind her, I could not see her reactions much. I had to credit the doctor for delivering the news matter-of-factly. I guess he must do it quite often and he was extremely careful. But even then, I was still stunned when the news hit. Speechless, I gazed at the floor, not sure how to react.

Upon our exit from the room, I finally saw my mum's face for the first time. Were those tears I saw welling in her eyes? I was not sure, but she was not taking it well.

"I always knew I'd get it. My whole family's got it. Take care of yourself, I can't always be here for you," she lamented.

And all I could do was put an arm around her, comfort her and say, "It's ok. The doctor already it's a mid-scale operation. You'd be alright once the tumour is removed."

Which is true. The proviso is that it has not spread beyond the breast. It should not.

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The visits to the hospital are frequent and I have been the one taking up the majority of the load. Fatique (emotional, mental and physical) has crept into my being unbeknown. I do not resent the responsibility but it ebbs the life out of me sometimes. Someone's got to do it though and it's much better that it's me. I probably won't be the one sending her to the hospital's day surgery centre on the 5th or bringing her home on the 6th, but I will definitely visit her after work. Least I could do.

The emotional drainage comes when I listen to her (while she's with me) talk about wills and what she would leave for me when she goes. It's difficult to listen to this when all I am thinking of is to get her well. The contradiction grates. So I am glad when my brother and sister-in-law has been coming home everyday and occupying my mum's time. It allows me some quiet time alone when I can get away from things and not think about them. My mood has not been good and it's not looking like an amelioration is in order.

My brother and sister-in-law coming home everyday has presented an interesting dilemma due to my sister-in-law's overzealousness (it's my mum's complaint) but you have to see where's she coming from. It's much better to care than to be detached.

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I remain scornful of my dad and sometimes, feel justifiably so. The man seems more worried about money than anything else. Come off it. My mum is the 68-year-old woman who's still working to maintain a steady cash inflow while he has been arching back in his armchair enjoying home comforts for years now. I do not say he doesn't deserve it but he should be mindful that his toiling wife deserves a little better from him.

My mum's condition has, of course, rendered her unable to work for at least a little while, although she did reverse her earlier decision to resign. So she's simply on no-pay leave now. I do not deny it would be the right thing for her if she had resigned, even though it would mean I will be the sole breadwinner and financial burdens will be, all the more, heftier. It is the right thing.

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I am seething, readers, for my transfer has been annulled. Through no fault of my own. I reproduce for you a sanitised version of an e-mail sent to me.

Hi Cyclops,

As spoken, your management has earlier given us a directive to freeze all postings till after event ABC in view of your department's heavy involvement in the coming big event. As a result, TCSS Department has decided to take in their second choice who can be appointed immediately. As mentioned, even after your department decides to make an exception for you, TCSS was reluctant to change their mind. I'm sorry that this posting did not get through as you desire. We will help get the posting for you now that your department is agreeable to make the exception for you.

Why would you renege on your stand? And if you won't let me go, don't go around giving me nice talks about giving my all while waiting for my oppportunity to leave. The "exception" they made only highlights an organisation that doesn't know what it wants or what it is doing. And in the first place, nobody was aware of such a directive, so in the process, I am denied a perfectly legitimate and great opportunity.

The worse thing was that this whole episode went past me without anybody informing me about it. I had to e-mail the manpower department in question before they finally revealed the truth to me. This is my move, my transfer and you deem it acceptable that I be kept in the dark about it?! If I had not the sense to ask, would I be waiting for months on end with no answers in sight? How very professional! You can consume my fragrant turd, you motherfcukers.

I am seething and vindictive. Someone will pay for this. There will be blood on my cleaver.

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I do not much like it when people write or talk to me in condescending tones, which is what Wolverine did to me and Magma today in an e-mail. While I cannot speak for her, my initial thoughts were, "Who the fcuk do you think you are?". You are but at the same level as me so don't pretend otherwise.

Jean Grey did complain to him about the way he writes his e-mails before. I am on the end of it now. I will hit him back.

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I have decided to make my move on Gerrie when I will tell her about my thoughts and feelings the next we meet (if I manage to pin her down to an appointment). Success or not, it at least permits me to move on.

Do I give up too easily? I don't know but a seemingly infinite wait isn't exactly a tasty proposition.

Monday, June 19, 2006
"开口死" 美女

Being something of an ochlophobic, I usually avoid going to city shopping malls over the weekend in order not to clash with maddening hordes of shoppers trotting through aisles. So it must come as a surprise (to moi) that I availed myself to go Bugis for a short shopping trip.

The crowds were crushing (as usual) at Bugis which came as no surprise. What got me interested though was the realisation of how much I was missing by not going to the city malls during the weekend...for this was when the mei meis come out to play.

To tell you the truth, it was a visual feast. As I was just making my way through Seiyu alone, waves and waves of alluring faces with porcelain features made their way past me. If anybody says Singapore girls are not among the most beautiful in the world, they are probably members of the SAVH. It is probably true that Singapore girls do not really know how to dress nor make-up, but that has nothing to do with their natural beauty. The grass isn't always greener on the other side.

Having said that though, an incident brought me right back to earth when it came to local girls.

I was queueing up to pay for an item when this luscious babe walked past me to queue behind me. Oh my goodness, I can honestly say that hers was one of the most beautiful faces that I saw that day. She has fine, smooth, fair skin, finely sculptured features and beautiful cascading locks that flowed past her shoulders. She's almost like a goddess.

As expected, I was just trying my best to find any excuse to turn around to bio her. Who wouldn't? And then, her phone rang and she answered the phone...

"Allo, where ah yooo? I add kounter lah, Q veri long leh. Yooo weight lah. You bai tikit all ready not? Watch wat show? I dun wan dat one. Watch "Sleeetheer". I lightk!"

I stopped trying to bio her after that. Later, when she walked past me, all I could do was shake my head.

SG Girls, while I have to say that you must among the most beautiful, too often have I also seen instances whereby the moment you opened your mouth, everything was lost. In Singapore, "开口死" 美女 seems to be a phenomenon that is all too common. It is not just about the voice being sweet but more the manner in which you speak. A lot of the time, it is rather coarse.

Let me give you an example where looks and voice match to perfection. Enter my darling.

Have you ever watched my wife on TV? Listen to her voice and the refined way in which she speaks. Phuah, I tell you, vocal viagra. I am sure a lot of guy folks, when they hear her speak, immediately marikita and pitch up tentages in their pants. She's almost the complete package, I tell you. Face, body, elegance...matched with that teh voice and the way she speaks...wah seh...

Maybe it's just me. Maybe guys are generally not particular about how girls speak and I am the odd one out. I don't know. But for me, I really don't want to see so many girls 开口死 when their looks are so heavenly. The image just clashes too sharply for me.

But what to do? You tell me lah. I also don't know.

PS: Cock lah, not as if I talk like Ian McKellen like that...talk so much for fcuk then...

Friday, June 16, 2006
赢 Ki Lan

Sven: "Listen, you are useless and I don't really have any reason to send you onto the pitch, but...Owen, I'm your father..."

Has anyone else noticed, like me, that David Beckham's best performance during each match usually occurred during half-time?

Yes, that was when that Gillette Nitro advert came on and David, in all his metrosexual glory, seductively shaves a whole lot of mousse off his finely sculptured chin. And then after clearing all that chemical waste from his chin, he shoots a devastating look at you with a twinkle in those mesmerising eyes that screams (to both men and women), "Yes , yes, yesssssssss, fcuk me, baby!" Yes, David, I concur so fcuk you.

Gillette Nitro: Shaves your head, chin and chest but not your arms.

Does anybody else, like me, believe that Sven the man will regret not bringing that Tottenham midget to Germany? No, I am not in advocacy of the merits of the arrogant gap-toothed one but having four strikers, out of which three are crocks and one's a cock, doesn't really make for sound reading. Of course, maybe Sven just didn't want to bring another cock to Germany. One's enough, I suppose. Well, whatever it is, it's fait accompli.

Jermain Defoe: "Sven, bring me to Germany, please! What Owen can do, I can do better! Let me demo..."

And finally, to all 赢 Ki Lan fans, I really do not understand this but whenever Lam Pa misses, he has this strange habit of sticking his tongue out and licking all over his lips. Don't believe me? Watch the next 赢 Ki Lan match. Can someone explain to me why he does that? It makes him look like an oversized cat in heat. Maybe he wants some ice cream too?

PS: 赢 Ki Lan can also be an apt adjective to describe the state of my football betting. Although I had infamously told some of my Office X-Men© that the nuclear Iranians should die for letting me down and the Kimchis (especially that fcuker Ahn Jung-Hwan) should die too for not letting Asia down, I relent on my death wish for the Kimchis for the sake of their hot, perky fan(s).

Korean fan(s): Perky in more ways than one.

Wednesday, June 14, 2006
End Of The Road

Huang Wenyong: If not for globalisation, he'd still be number one in S'pore gals' hearts.

Duh, what kind of cock question is that? Nothing to do with the work and so standard GP. If they can anyhow ask questions like this during interviews, how come they don't ask me more interesting questions like "Why is it most men's fantasy to have a Japanese wife?" (Ans: They watched too much porn.) Like that, at least I can give a decent and coherent answer in 45 minutes.

I'd readily admit that I thought my answer to that written test was run-of-the-mill. Worse thing was that I thought the organisation of my ideas was very poor and the essay did not flow at all. So how did I get the job?

I can only attribute it to 4 things: (1) I consciously used very big words and flowery language to disguise the haphazard structure of my essay. Evidently, this strategy worked. See, my dear readers, all style and no substance gets you very far. (2) My experience in my current post which doesn't stand up to much scrutiny anyway (but too bad, they took my bluff because I looked decidedly in charge during the interview and was the one asking questions rather than the interviewers. It's one way of preventing them from asking what I do...by occupying them with my own questions. This also makes me look enthusiastic.) as pointed out to me by Jean Grey. Wait, didn't she get stabbed by Wolfy? (3) The other candidates must really be crappy! And (4), the biggest reason, Cyclops looks good. Very good indeed.

Oh, blimey, but who's this bloody handsome bugger? It's just like looking into a mirror...

So it looks like I've got one of my resolutions for the year fulfilled: To get a posting out of The Office© by the end of the year. Only left with one more. Get a girl by the end of the same period. This one's much trickier (and do NOT ask me about Gerrie) because it's nowhere in sight.

But life's full of surprises...so you never know...

So it looks like it's coming to the end of the road for me at The Office©. It has surely been a glorious time. Where else can I find the time to blog so much and form The Office X-Men©? But all good times must come to an end...I suppose.

Thursday, June 08, 2006
Malaysia Boleh

Suitable attire for the Malaysian astronaut. Accessories such as wok, push cart, LPG optional.

Don't you think that this attire is more suitable, considering they are merely caterers for the flight?

Of course, keeping in mind the Malaysians' idea that they should wear batik when they go up into space, I'd was thinking that if we also send astronaut into space, the average Singaporean astronaut should look like this.

Uncle Lim: Singapore's future first astronaut?

Isn't this an apt attire to represent Singapore? But...no way, you protest. Even if the outfit is spot on, Singapore won't send such an old astronaut. Are you sure? We got just about the oldest MM in the world and also the oldest living President in the world. Might as well send the world's oldest astronaut to space what. And Uncle Lim will do Singapore proud, he fries a mean char kway teow. I'm sure the Russians will appreciate a good char kway teow in space.

Alternatively, of course, they can send a local mei mei in her original "average Singapore girl wear" into space and conduct medical experiments such as the treatment of nosebleeding in space.

Singapore mei mei astronaut: Great for space medical experiments.

All in all, I still gotta congratulate the Malaysians. It's nice that you set realistic targets and achieve them. At least you didn't concoct hare-brained ideas like Goal 2010. Good for you then. Here's hoping that the below picture and headline will be a regular feature in future papers.

Malaysian astronaut fails 120th attempt to tarik teh in space.

All together now...Malaysia Boleh!

Wednesday, June 07, 2006
So Here We Are

Tuesday, June 06, 2006
A Silent Prayer

There's a palpable fear in my mum's voice when she told me about this a few days ago. A fear that ate into my consciousness from the moment I heard her words. My mum felt a lump in her left breast and will be going for a test at TTSH sometime this week when she gets her appointment.

My maternal extended family has a history of cancer. My grandfather passed away because of it. My second uncle committed suicide when he could no longer stand the pain from the treatments that he was receiving. My late youngest aunt was the last victim of a disease that seems to run hereditary. This is not something I want to reminisce about.

Yet, truth is, I was almost waiting for it. Waiting for something like this to hit me. Almost envisaged it. I must be quite a piece of work when it comes to pessimism.

But we know nothing yet unless the tests are run. It could all be a superfluous worry. Well, it better be. It ought to be. That's what I want it to be. I also wish it was the only thing on my mind.

Bad things when they come, they come in a avalanche, seemingly to bury you alive. I wonder why I have to learn the truth about certain things at this particular point in time. A time when I ought to be just thinking about my mum. Ignorance is bliss but truth liberates. I guess it is for the better in the end. You cannot run away from what is real. It still bloody hurts though. Was I expecting anything less?

Life still goes on. No point putting a face of solemnity and bringing everyone (including my mum) down. But beyond my folderol, I say a silent prayer that my mum is alright and this turns out to be a false alarm. That's all that matters. Everything else, I can take care of myself.

Monday, June 05, 2006
The Weekend

Lazyitis has conquered me again and I have found myself rather disinterested in posting anything here for the past two weeks or so. I'd have reviewed X-Men: The Last Stand last Tuesday but then again, found my potential energy (AKA inertia) too arduous to overcome.

Anyway, as a rebuff to Iceman's words in his latest post, I disagree that (a) X-Men 3 is worth 5 popcorns. It's worth about 3. I'd throw the other 2 at the screen and declare Brett Ratner a patronising schmuck for the "surprise" ending scene he adds right at the end of the movie (when the credits have ended).

And (b), I prefer Mystique to Rogue. We already know girls can kill you with a touch, that's nothing new. Don't believe me? Try touching any girl on an MRT and see how you die lah.

And is an ordinary girl fun? Yes, possibly, but I'd still prefer Mystique over Rogue for the simple reason that she's a thousand women in one. Life can be never be boring when you are making whoopie with Angelina Jolie on Monday, Zhang Ziyi on Tuesday, Maria Sharapova on Wednesday...(btw, even the de-superpowered human Mystique looks good, especially when she was lying stark nekkid on the floor of the truck)

Talking about the sexy Russian siren, little Miss Sharapova, she and little Miss Daniela Hantuchova just robbed me of any incentive to watch the French Open after both of these sexy Eastern European chicks crashed out of the tournament.

It's a crying shame really. Take a look at the picture on the left. Have you ever seen anyone play tennis in babydoll nighties like this? I really hope Maria would consider playing in her lingerie next in Wimbledeon and then after that, hopefully, anything (or rather, everything) goes!

Continuing on the subject of sports, as you would expect most British pundits to do, after a routine 6-0 drubbing of a most embarrassing Jamaica (so embarrassing, in fact I think Singapore might beat them 3-0) , England have been tipped to bring the Cup back to England (England might be where the game was born but wasn't the World Cup a French lad's idea?). And Peter Crouch has suddenly become the best striker in the world after Thierry Henry, Ronaldo and Nor Alam Shah. Bring on Brazil, they say, 40 years of dreaming for the sleeping giants is about to end! Come on, you Brits...40 years sounds more like a coma to me, so pull out the tubes, die a gracious death and let us all get over this (4-yearly) rhetoric.

My weekend was sprinkled with doses of ill luck.

First, I forgot to buy a familiar, friendly 4D number which I knew would regularly turn up to wave at me and ask to collect winnings. So this past weekend, following my failure to bet on it, that number duly showed up and waved a middle finger at me. It was a starters prize winner.

And then this morning, a close member of the family died on me. Yes, my Zen Neeon just hung suddenly and I couldn't activate the controls nor turn it off. How nice! Now maybe I gotta send the little blessed thing to the Zen workshop for it to be zenctifed....and you wonder how come Ah Sim's products can't fight with Ah Steve's products. It's not just about marketing and doing panda commercials, Ah Sim. At least make sure your products don't just suddenly hang like that lah. @#$%^&*.

I ate a very sinful meal on Saturday. Basically, during weekends, I have a tendency to cook myself a whole greasy brunch of potato chips, pork chops and sunny-sideups. There's enough oil used in my cooking here to fuel a generator for a month...and it has all ended up in my stomach. If only my insurance company knew, I think they'd regret the day they signed me up.

I also did another rather sinful thing this past weekend. I allowed sloth to get the better of me and didn't attend church service...oh, wait, that happens just about every weekend. Well, as Jesus would say, "Repent, you SOB!"