Friday, June 29, 2007


My life so far:
Last wed - tea with friends
Last thurs - visa interview. where i was subjected to heat torture. then grey's marathon at nat's house, where i cried like a beeyotch.
Last fri - cafe del mar in the morning. reprieve before injection and facial.
Last weekend - was a homebody, not by choice.

Am now in the Business Times section of SPH, bored out of skull. there are 8 other interns. something tells me i am not needed.
Spoke to another intern, a Dartmouth undergrad. She has worked here for a week and as came up with, researched, pitched and written two stories. And i am here, indulging in what can only be described as the antithesis to hard-hitting journalism. i need to cultivate this little thing called initiative la. but so laaaazy.

ah well. this is probably why she is an sph scholar from the ivy league who is going to MIT to pursue graduate journalism course under MIT scholarship, and i'm not.

in other news, transformers on tues with fiends. transformers is SO AWESOME. it is SO AWESOME that it stirred up memories of me as a 12-yr-old boy, despite the face that i have never been a 12-yr-old boy before. that's how AWESOME it is.

i shall name my son optimus prime. or if i don't get to have a son (due to barrenness, lack of spouse, or a restraining order), my kahpuang shall have the honor. (dunno what the HELL i am saying here. fingers are just moving.)

i love shia lebeouf. he looks like a puppy and is named after food. how not to love.

Another Way To Say No.
Chris: Eh you know the Serangoon area not?
Emil: Yes. I know it as well as the back of my... back.

Kaveh, SPH intern: (sagely) Rihanna should be seen and not heard.
So true.

Ok just came back from hour long tea at canteen. is like school again, except with ppl who smoke.
I have facebooked my colleagues and read their walls. I am fast becoming a freak.
For want of something bettter to do before i can legitimately leave at 7, i shall write more.

but... i have nothing to say. i have no political views whatsoever. here is what i have said about politicians; what i can remember anyway.
on barack obama: wah, he's damn handsome leh. how old is he?
on monica lewinsky: ee, she so fat why bill want.
on gordon brown: dammit. i want to go to his school. (brown university, for the uninitiated.)
on tony blair: wah, he's damn handsome leh. how old is he?
on sarkozy: shit man he don't like foreigners. i can't go paris to study abroad alr.
on lee kuan yew: heehee. a***** go to his house before.

so you see. it's probably a good thing i have that last smidgen of self-awareness not to impose my ignorance on the world.

i love the fact that when ppl ask me about elitism, i can honestly say i've never encountered it because i have been in the thick of it for most of my life.

ok but in the real world, all this will mean nothing and i'll become one of those bitter old women who will have her grave engraved with an epitaph involving the words 'Raffles' 'pwn' 'bite me, suckaas' 'ORA debit card'.

if someone asked me to summarize this post, i wouldn't be able to. testament to my... eclectic brain processes eh.
omg. ok someone just asked me to summarize something.
fate is playing with me k bye.

Wednesday, June 27, 2007


omg breaking news: Pro wrestler Chris Benoit strangled his wife and smothered his son before hanging himself in his weight room, a law enforcement official close to the investigation told The Associated Press on Tuesday.
This is the same Benoit with the German Suplex! and the Crossface! I am making light of this cos this is supremely unsettling. I mean, this guy was involved in one of the most farcical industries in the world, centered on outlandish characters and horrendous, fist-bitingly bad acting. So he kinda lived a lie, as they say in bad soap operas.

"Lies carry with them a tinge of mortality" - Conrad (quote not accurate, but, whatever. it's late.)

He didn't die as he lived, and that's scary.

waiting... waiting...

there's a freaking cockroach in my toilet so i cannot pee until it goes away so i am in front of the freaking computer. fuck. I TRIED TO BRUSH MY TEETH THEN IT ALMOST CRAWLED ON MY FREAKING FOOT. it is too late for things like this sia.

bandage party at olivia's house for edwin was hokay. i er, bandaged my eye cos my gauze wasn't long enough to bandage ankle. win. then seeing out of one eye made me damn sleepy so i threw it away. the gauze, i mean. not the eye.

tonight, as is common in every situation involving new people, i was established again as the 'girl with weird tendencies', the 'girl who is one of the guys', just because i displayed a healthy interest in Maxim magazine's 100 hottest hotties of 2007, cadavers, and wrestling. what the hell. if your medic student friend cuts open a dead body through the pelvis (with its legs in the air) using a saw with a bag over its head as a final approximation of respect, it is interesting, isn't it. i hate politeness. it's overrated.

i just realised a good majority of my friends, myself included, cannot manage our finances. or, more accurately, make a very conscious decision not to. this is scary and does not bode well for our futures.

this blog is shallower than an evaporated puddle/lindsay.
whatevs. i'm out. must check on roach.

Monday, June 25, 2007

back from the land of waxed duck and cow eyes

Ok am back for good. i love china. i fly there for free, get free lodging and free transport, tailor dirt-cheap cashmere coats, eat dirt cheap hotel food and buy lovely tacky fake mao era thingamabobs, aka this ->

and this ->

yes, it's an alarm clock with mao rallying his masses with his lil tiny special minute hand. loves it.

also visited jigong's cave in huangzhou. i saw his stone bed where he was made to sleep cos he was a lousy monk. he ate meat and drank wine, apparently. and roasted dogs over a small pit. i can empathise. apparently i was the only one who found it funny. xieshaoguang's face kept popping up, along with the delightfully unmelodious theme song. anyone born before 1988 confirm remember the song. confirm.

anyway. after visiting the good ol motherland three times, i have to say shanghai is not that much of a hellhole. (yes, i am a product of the West Is Best generation. deal.) quite nice actually, with the Bund looking pretty gorgeous at night. Eating dinner at a 56th storey restaurant 3/4 filled with Westerners offers a spectaccular view of neo-classical buildings and Art Deco hotels across the river. Pretty pretty. The buzz of the big city makes me happy. and heaven forbid, i saw h&m in a shopping mall. (it was kinda empty though.)

in China, i (very very accidentally) saw a woman squatting down to pee in a cubicle with a perfectly serviceable door which, apparently, escaped her notice. ugh. eyes spyol.

my father's driver still loves Maozedong.
he was made to recite Mao's Book of Quotations by a policeman at the side of the road as punishment for jaywalking.

my father, on me purchasing Mao's Book of Quotations: haha. why are you reading that? Mao is a stupid man. he says a lot of funny things.

ok. bandage party later. was thinking of bandaging my mouth. but, inconvenient eh. must talk one. must.

Saturday, June 16, 2007

Back from the Land Of Scarily Perfectly-Packaged Snacks

In an attempt to not give up on something I have started for once in my life, I shall update.

So. Japan was... nice. Though it didn't quite live up to the ideal I painted in my head before I went. I thought Tokyo would be this throbbing metropolis where it was always brightnight and neon lights, with freakishly-accoutred teenagers roaming the streets and sweating in fetish clubs in all their enviable youthful adandonment. But, no leh. It was more like Singapore than anything else, but with one or two token punks thrown in and an indecipherable language.

There is also a certain banal-ness to visiting all the tourist(trap) areas in a tour group. We get down the bus, stand prettily next to a waterfall, smile, then leave. No more about the country, the people, the culture known except that there is a waterfall somewhere in Hokkaido that looks nice.

Oh but Japan has a v high percentage of pretty pretty tofu boys! In slouchy school uniform! I stared. A lot.

And also a v high percentage of schoolgirls with sailormoon uniforms and (there is no other way to say this. 'round' is just not... circular enough) circle eyes. I swear. Perfect circles. Even Monet cannot draw.

Ok boring again. I presents the foe-toes.

These made me veryvery happy.

<- sea urchin, scallops, clams, and the ubiquitous sashimi. Glump. :D 6flavours of Hokkaido ice-cream, one of which is (I lie not) Laspberry. It tasted remarkably like raspberry though.

Freshest sashimi in the world, at a gorgeous little sushi bar in Tsukiji Fish Market in Tokyo. CAN YOU FEEL IT MOVING. I CANNOT TAKE IT IT'S ZO FRESH.

Street ramen. Wah lau. 'Nuff said.

These (at some musical box museum) (see i said touring was banal) scared the bejeezus out of me.

My mother and me, me looking very out of my element.

Me and a... trishaw rider. I'm more in my element here eh. Love the shorts. There were a few more leggy, perfectly-coiffured gentlemen in spandax around, but cannot take picture cos mother around. Damn.

Snow in summer. I love hot chocolate in cold weather, even though that one cost 300 yen and tasted like piss.

This made me feel romantically lonely. View from hotel room.

And this was a very poor attempt at artistry after I got bored of feeling romantically lonely.
My god uploading pictures takes a shitload of time. Never again, so many.
You know what would be a superdeeduperbloodyshitass great job. Food photographer. Phwoar.
Also, food consultant. Also known as food hunter. Travel the world tasting food to bring back to celebrity chefs in 3 star michelin restaurants.
They do exist. Pls google.

Monday, June 4, 2007

at home on a monday afternoon

there is something about stuffy yellow afternoons that makes me want to scratch out my skin and die.

coming to this pathetic little slice of cyberspace i can call my own after like, a week, and seeing 0 hits is not very cheery-uppy too. ok, granted, i havent told ANY of my few friends about this blog. hmm. then when i finally DO tell them, there will most probably be a slew of rambling posts (in the manner of this one) in which i talk, effectively, to myself. then i'll feel weird that they are reading something that isn't meant for them, but something that i did on the spur of the moment on a stuffy yellow afternoon, meant entirely for myself.

egad. blogs confuse me.

i just rejected all my ucas offers. shiok. take that, nus. TAKE THAT. (the band is good.)

i can foresee this blog being neglected, disrespected and forgotten in the next 4 years, in which i am supposed to put it to great use by informing the world about my daily exploits (or lack thereof).

i can also foresee all entries devoid of any of my real feelings or emotions or REFLECTIONS ON EXPERIENCES (pls insert my voice of scorn here, for those who know me) (for those who don't, my voice is scornful.) or actual ruminations on my life and living. these will all be characteristically glossed over by a veneer of snarky indifference and flippant (low) humour, much in the manner of Elizabethan bawds.

but shiok la, huh. more interesting than 'dear diary, today i engaged in an intellectually stimulating bout of circumlocution with my professor of deestablishmentarialism. let me tell you about it.' and there is where this poor girl's (or guy's, i dunno.)(i would shoot a guy who says dear diary, though) self-indulgence leads the reader's cursor to the top right hand corner of the screen to click on the x of salvation.

which is probably where my reader's cursor is heading before he reads this sentence. hah.

welcome back.

word vomit time!

my father said 'sam, how old are you alr? why still watch stupid Squarebox Cheesecake?'

at shirin's party, while talking about certain uninvited, blissfully unaware people,
me: omg. her words were my doom stamp!
shirin: i think stamp of doom sounds better.
me: yah hor.

ok. entry too bloody long alr.
i goes.