All grown up and nowhere to go

Archive for April 2009

There was once a man named Bill.
Short for William, Bill.
He was born a big, big man.
And remained so throughout his life.

Bill was feared and respected.
He worked as a bouncer at a club called Cats.
Because Bill was a big, big man,
Bill can do anything, almost.

There was one thing Bill can’t do.
Bill can’t think straight, talk straight
when a lady called Stella walked through
the club that Bill was a bouncer at.

Bill was a big, big man.
To see him stutter his hellos, goodbyes,
whenever Stella came
Bill became a big, bumbling giant.

Stella, she didn’t notice at first.
She was there just to have fun.
Fun with friends old and new,
Boys and girls she kissed.

But Bill, as I said, was a big, big man.
You can not not notice Bill, so Stella did.
She was flattered, that Bill
thought she mattered more than anything.

(He practiced in front of a mirror, first.)

Stella liked that Bill was a big, big man.
He was shy and gentle with her,
she thought that amusing.
She found him a juxtaposition.

They fell in love – Bill first, Stella after
she had kissed too many boys (or was it girls?)
Bill proposed.
He tripped twice while trying to kneel.

I wish I could say that they lived happily ever after.
They lived happily for a while,
until Stella brought her cousin home.
Her cousin from Brazil.
And she made him so comfortable that
Bill realized
He was not her cousin at all.
And then what happened was that
Bill grew very big.
And he was already a big, big man.
He pummeled the cousin and twisted his neck.
Then Bill decided he liked Stella better
when she ignored him.
So he made her ignore him
from inside the freezer.

But let’s not get into that story,
That story came later.
Let’s just say that Stella made Bill very happy
when she said ‘yes’ to his proposal.

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Taken at the back of a cab in HK

The most dangerous vehicles on the roads of Singapore are by far Angsty Cabs. These cabs do the ziggy-wiggy across the lanes better than Will Smith ever jigged wit’ it. They swerve, they honk, and they leave vision-impairing cloud of dust behind as they zoom devil-may-caredly by.

But what’s more dangerous than having Angsty Cabs in your vicinity is to be in an Angsty Cab. They do get you to your destination at the fastest time possible, but there’s no guarantee you’ll arrive there in one piece. For eg., I had the unfortunate luck to have flagged down an Angsty Cab with a mad bat of a driver. He sped down across TWO lanes, too polite to signal ‘left’ and not wanting to trouble other cars to slow down.

Unfortunately, there’s something even more dangerous than being in an Angsty Cab. It is to be in an Angsty Cab which was attempting to change lane almost perpendicularly only to encounter another Angsty Cab refusing to budge from its current speed and lane.

My madbat driver horned long and hard for a very scary five seconds in which the two Angsty Cabs seemed to almost magnetically come together. He kept horning in the hopes that, by the force of the sound, sooner than later the other cab would drift away like a butterfly in the face of a windstorm.

At the end of it, we have my heart up my throat and a very pissed off driver swearing in Hokkien after he swerved at the last minute to avoid collision. The two cabbies played a game of chicken and guess who lost.

FRIENDLY SUGGESTION TO THE SINGAPORE GOVERNMENT:

Please label your city-state’s cabs with Angsty-ness Degrees, options as below –

A. Nice Chatty Uncle Inside (but will drive you the long way)
B. Keep Quiet Uncle Inside
C. Super Angsty, My-Dick-Just-Kana-Kiaped-In-The-Door  Uncle Inside

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The Hong Kong Airport Express has a brilliant view of cables n stuff.

The past few weeks have zoomed by. Can’t remember the last time I put pen to paper, or in this case, fingers to keyboard. I went to Bangkok with the team followed by Hong Kong with Zee, Yang + pardners. If you were to ask me what I’d gained from the 2 trips, I’d say a few kgs and a bit more street wisdom.

But mostly, the few kgs. Although surprisingly I measured myself the moment I get back and voila, it is but a phantom weight gain. I celebrated by eating copious amounts of potato chips, which I am sad to say would probably solidify the phantomness. I can feel it already, creeping around my cheeks, wrapping my already non-existent jawline into a cushiony ball.

Hmmm. Given the amount of weight-whining I do, it’s a wonder you don’t see me at the gym often. This is because I believe in miracles. I believe that without doing anything much other than feeling dismayed as one’s size 0 jeans get stuck below the hips, one can attain the Nirvana of Weight Loss.

But OK, I swear I will gym more and dance more once the lethargy of holidays has been uplifted (although I’m still on the lethargy of the first HK trip last Dec atm).

On the Boy Front – (well, we all know what’s on a Boy’s Front *cough*, but sleazy interpretations aside…) Daddy Fatfat is doing well. I somehow lost track of Fatfat himself, but given the lack of news I presume he has yet to drown and / or get stuck beneath a coral. Long live Fatfat! I bought Daddy Fatfat manly outfits from both BKK and HK, which I will force him to wear even if they fit horribly. ‘Cuz for every 1 piece of clothing / accessory thingy I bought for Daddy Fatfat, that’s one less CK underwear / DvF goody for me.

Thus I have run out of things to say. I could of course go on to discuss the relativity of time, that the past, present and future are only separate things because we view them that way, not seeing that time is just another word for distance. Because, when you take a step forward, aren’t you moving one tick in time as well?

I could. I could go on about that. But why bother?

Nights!