Monthly Archive
Browsing entries posted on March 2006
April Fool!
I had a bizarre thought last night.
You know how everyone is going on about TomKat (sorry, Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes) and how their “baby” is going to be born soon, and it seems that absolutely no one is taking it at face value? Either it’s a fake belly, or an alien baby, or at the very least it’s not his. Which would be shitty, because the girl said she’d stay a virgin until she’s married, so it should be his, gross.
Anyway, this is my opinion. The belly is a fake, and tomorrow it’ll be “born” and Tom Cruise is going to come out saying “It’s a… Happy April Fool, you morons!” and laugh hysterically. I mean… it’s just too much of a coincidence. Besides, I hope it isn’t a real baby, what with all the shit her pregnancy has gone through. Like, hello, she’s been photographed drinking Starbucks practically non-stop, and all that jumping around the world on press junkets… Heck even Angelina Jolie is having a quieter pregnancy.
Just because it’s an elaborate hoax doesn’t mean Tom Cruise is any less strange, though. I’m pretty sure that jumping on couches and spouting off about Scientology were pretty genuine.
Out of the Loop
Yeah, no one ever tells me anything.
People hooking up left right and centre and I remain somewhat unaware but suspicious. However, when I pull back and look at the big picture, it’s very frightening.
4 new couples this academic year, and all were involved in a certain committee. Now I know that committee tends to, um, foster bonding and camaraderie between its members, but this is just ridiculous. 4 of them? 8 people? It took them THIS LONG to hook up? 2 of those couples are barely a month old. Hello, you had like the ENTIRE school year since August to hook up and it takes you 6 months?
Yeah I know these things don’t happen overnight but still, man, it shouldn’t take that long! They see each other every day (and every night, if they so wish) so that should accelerate things a bit. It took me less than 6 months to hook up, and even then we had curfew, totally different class schedules, and NO boy-girl interaction after hours. So what took these people so long, I don’t know.
Maybe it’s just shyness. This committee doesn’t breed outgoing people. That’s the other committee. Oh, you know another thing?
Why would a girl pick a cigarette-smoking guy who says “f87k” all the time, over a clean-cut, polite young man? I mean, the girl’s no gangster, I always thought she’d go for the nice-clean-clever triple combo, but she doesn’t. I am so confused. Yeah I know the Chinese have a saying: 男人ä¸å , 女人ä¸çˆ± [nan ren bu huai, nu ren bu ai] which means, basically, girls like bad boys. And I’m not saying that he’s a bad guy. Is there something that the nice-clean-clever combo lacks? Fortitude of the intestinal and testicular kind, perhaps? The temerity to just go ahead and chase the girl, regardless? Why are females still going for the manly man? When I take Evolutionary Psychology I’ll let you know.
Do I go for the manly man? Heck yes. You pick a stereotype, I’m fine with it. Football, beers with the guys, smashing opponents on the PS2 (not into the PS2, please) and gadgets. Yup. But he’s not bad, you see. Although, having said that, if you wanna be my fishing buddy *wink* I’m o-k with smokers, so long as you don’t obnoxiously puff in my face.
Why the appeal of the manly man, the Male Chauvinist Pig, the old-skool brudda? Is it only girly girls who like manly men? No, that can’t be it. Even girls who play touch rugby like the alpha males, so it can’t be a complementarity aspect. And I’m not saying touch-rugby girls aren’t feminine. They’re just not pinkified, squealing masses of hormones.
I can’t crack the puzzle. Help me, Evo Psychology. You’re my only hope.
Bunny-boy love
Y’all know I love bunnies. Wabbits. Those long-eared buck-toothed creatures that nibble salad leaves. And now I like Brokeback Mountain. And guess what! I found something that combines both of these, very effectively. Laydees and gennulmen, I present to you, the Brokeback Bunnies. No, that isn’t the proper title. Don’t click on that yet! A few words of warning.
1. It’s a Flash object so it opens quickly, and it’s not a large file so if you’re on a quick connection it can load practically immediately. Watch your sound volume.
2. Well I really ought to rate it R21, for homosexuality, but since it’s not live-action, I don’t see the point. I mean there are kids out there looking at Japanese anime porn, and they ain’t 21!
3. Some animal-lovin’ implied. I mean, heck of course, they’re bunnies ain’t they? But there’s a surprise at the end, so keep watching. I promise it’s not too gross.
And for more bunny goodness that doesn’t involve boys kissing, click here.
That’s sad, y’all.
I think I’ll be speaking with a Midwestern twang for the next few days, b’cawse ah just saw Brokeback Moun’n and it’s mighty sad, y’all. I mean, every-frickin’-body in this film wears those cowboy western shirts and boots and don’t they ever heard of, like, Abercrombie or nothin’?
But seriously, it’s not the kind of movie you should watch if you want to have a good time. It leaves you feeling all sad inside, and it doesn’t have a proper ending. Well I guess the story of Ennis and Jack had no proper ending anyway, it was cut prematurely short and the movie reflects that.
I wasn’t really disturbed by the nude scenes, after all cowboys got to bathe too, awright? Nothing much to see anyway, they aren’t really the Adonises the press makes them out to be. Jake Gyllenhaal is a mighty cute boy, and he has those puppee-dawg eyes that make you wanna cuddle him, but after Jack starts putting on weight and growing a mustache, it kinda doesn’t work for me no more.
I was kinda disturbed by having to see naked female boobies twice though, is there some rule in this film that the main characters have to show some skin? And I’m heterosexual, see, so naked female boobies don’t do it for me. There isn’t much gay sex to be had, either, and it’s not shown anyway. I’m fine with guys cuddling and all. Cuddling is cute.
Anyway it was kinda sad how love can destroy people’s lives like that… not just Jack and Ennis but also their wives’ and their kids’ lives… I mean how’d you feel if you not only found out your husband had gay tendencies, but also saw him kissing his boy with a passion he no longer feels for you? That’s sad.
The funny thing is that Ennis seems to not be a full-time gay, if you get my drift… apart from his dalliances with Jack, he maintains heterosexual relationships, so maybe he’s only gay as a consequence of loving Jack, and not because he likes men. Basically he only likes that ONE man. That’s what I’m trying to say. I’m not totally sure, cos I don’t have any gay friends. Perhaps it’s not so much the gender of the person that attracts us, it’s just the person and the gender is an (un)fortunate aside.
I think Jack is a full-time gay though, cos after he couldn’t get any from Ennis, he went to find some male prostitutes. And like he said, his marriage could be done “over the telephone”. Doesn’t mean he’s not manly, though. He put his big ol’ bully of a father-in-law in his place! I bet the mustache toughened him up some. Heh.
It’s so lame the way they express their feelings. They never once said the word ‘love’ in relation to themselves. When they find out they’re gonna get separated, they fight. Ennis bottles up all the sadness over losing Jack by going into an alley and crying so hard I thought he was throwing up. I seriously thought he was going to be sick, and maybe he was. He was so sad that it made him nauseous.
Place and time were just totally against them. In San Francisco they might have had a chance, but not in the middle of the macho macho west. In the 1990s it’d have been no big deal (although the cowboy thing would still be a problem) but they were in the 1960s and that was, like, a huuuuuge deal.
I loved the fashion progression though. Lureen’s mother kept her 1950s beehive, and Lureen herself went from a wholesome down-home brunette beauty to a Farrah Fawcett bottle-blonde with feathered hair. But her eyebrows were still dark, so that kinda rankled. I love that she wore that bright red lipstick and nail polish, it’s so Dallas. The girl’s from Texas too, ain’t that great!
Oh, and I likes the sheeps too, there were loads of them, and one that died. I hope that was a fake sheep, PETA would be up in arms if it were real. Unless they roasted it later, that is. Killing sheep for food is no crime, killing for entertainment is. And the horses! Oh, that I were that horse, so that Jake Gyllenhaal could ride me. The horses are so pretty.
I guess I’m glad I caught it before its run ended. It was worth the 7 dollars in the end, it really is a good story. It might get a bit slow in places if you’re not the contemplative type, given to writing blog posts in your head. My seat wasn’t very comfortable so I had a bit of a pain in my back at the end, but I felt that this is the kind of film that really enriches your life. Or maybe I’m just getting older, I’m no longer the teenager who fell in love with Heath Ledger playing Patrick Verona in ‘10 Things I Hate About You’. Although he was really damn hawt in that show.
Love is a force of nature. It can devastate your life, despite your best preparations. Like a blizzard or a hailstorm, it can wreak havoc on all it touches. Poor Ennis and Jack just got carried along on the tide.
An Orange Streak of Lightning
I think I just made myself unpopular with the caterers in hall.
Today fried fish was on the menu for dinner. It’s a whole fish, I suppose it’s a mackerel or something like that, and it’s deep fried so it’s salty and crispy. Usually I don’t like the hall’s version because they tend to be soggy, but the fish I got was crispy and done just right, so no complaints.
I came in late for dinner after my late lecture, and I was just finishing up dinner when the last group left. As they pushed their chairs back, a fuzzy orange shape trotted towards me. It was Kitty, a ginger-marmalade tomcat. He sat right beneath my chair and looked up with big yellow eyes. It helped that the dining hall was dim, so his pupils were big and round, giving him the appealing wide-eyed look. How he knew to come straight to my chair, I don’t know. I dropped off a section of fish bones for him, and he crunched it all up. Now I know why he’s so fat and glossy-furred.
Later I gave him the whole fish head, but the caterers had already started to clear up. I left him chewing the head under a chair, but as I walked out of the hall after checking my mail, an orange streak zoomed past me and away down the corridors. I suppose the caterers shooed him out, and he left the fish-head behind. They’re not going to like that…
I don’t suppose they’re going to like me much, either, leaving behind a mess for them to clean up. Bah. On the other hand, I’ve never seen a cat run so fast. I didn’t see his feet touch the floor. Some exercise might do him good, anyway. He’s getting a wee bit overweight.
And it’s a wrap!
Whew. I’m still tired from last night’s festivities. Being on the go for 12 straight hours does that to you. We started at 3 pm, with moving out the equipment, and we left the hotel at the late hour of 1 am, after moving our backdrops and miscellaneous items onto the lorry. In between, we were manual labourers, sound technicians, ushers… we got back to hall at 1.30 am, and I personally didn’t get to sleep until 3 am.
I didn’t get up until 1 pm today. My body was protesting all the shit I put it through yesterday. When we loaded the equipment onto the lorry, there was barely enough space for us to sit, so we squatted among the wires, metal stands and wooden frames. Then Oscar, our humanoid-shaped backdrop, decided to act as some kind of sail against the wind, and we had to lay it down before it flew off and hit the car behind. The lorry had practically no suspension, and we bumped painfully over the speed humps.
When we got to the unloading bay of the office, we began the long and painful process of shifting the things up to the ballroom. It was just the sheer number of things we had to move, and the fact that there were only 5 of us. Finally, all the things were up on the ballroom level, and then we had to set up the sound system and the lights.
What a pain it was! We ran around looking for logistics, minor things like a power socket and lucky draw prizes. When the first early guests arrived, I was still in my casual clothes. I ran off to change and do my makeup before the show began, then went straight out to usher in the guests and persuade them to leave the lounge and go in for dinner.
We had no dinner, because we didn’t pay for our tickets. All we could get were soft drinks from the bar. Halfway through the programme, however, the ballroom manager brought out sandwiches and chips, room service style. That was awesome. The chips were fat and salty, the way I like them. There was a minor problem with some of the pre-show pictures, but the graduating seniors’ video got most of the ballroom teary-eyed with its sentimentality.
In between, the guests’ antics kept the show from getting too boring. The Iron Ladies (lads, really) pranced around with their orange wigs and volleyballs, while the Chinese vampires menaced the other tables until their Master called them to sit down to dinner. It was a pity that the cowboys from Brokeback Mountain didn’t get up to some lovey-dovey business, in keeping with character. Our theme was “Lights, Camera, Action!” so the movie-related bits stood out. The Pirates of A-block waved their swords and Jolly Roger flag, while the harem of Indian beauties went topless to show off their manly chests. The Geisha who was called onstage to play a game tottered onstage in her socks and slippers, and tittered girlishly behind her fan.
In the end, the vampires won the Best Table prize, for their energetic performance at the beginning when they swept in and started to hop, arms outstretched. Their prize acceptance ceremony turned into an impromptu mass dance and conga train around the ballroom. *shakes head* Eusoffians.
Next to these fun happenings, the pageant contestants were a bland bunch, frankly. But then they’re not allowed to cross-dress, nor are they allowed to scare others. Some performances were really cute - Best Item went to C block for their Hokkien rendition of “If I had a million dollars”. There were no surprises in the final crowning ceremony - unless you count last year’s Mr Eusoff going up on stage wearing a sari.
All in all, I think everyone had a good time, the graduating seniors got properly drunk, and one of them sprayed me with a water pistol. Dr Sequeira thanked us for a job well done (whew) and we rode home on the lorry. The best-dressed bunch there ever was in the bed of a truck. Me in my white halter, the boys in their formal shirt and pants, while the lorry driver wore Armani. That’s really a student-run effort, man.
For pictures, please go here. There are far too many pictures to upload here. Also, I don’t think the others will be happy about being accidentally featured here.
I wuv flopsie bunnies
I have an inordinate fondness for James Blunt. It’s certainly not normal - he sings like a snail on Speed, though I don’t know what snails on Speed sound like, or even that snails can sing. But he sounds like that. I have the video for “You’re Beautiful” on heavy rotation on YouTube, because he strips in that video. =P. Dude, you have to check out that chest! A stint in the Army does one’s physique much good, I think.
But the one thing that intrigues me most is his hair. Yes, the long thready bits that sprout from his head. I’ve noticed that Englishmen in particular favour this look - the messy help-me-my-hair-is-attacking-me look. A comparison:
This is James Blunt, the singer-songwriter.
This is Neil Gaiman, yes THE Neil Gaiman, all bow down and worship at his insanely creative feet. He is a writer, a weaver of words, a thinker-upper of ideas. I, on the other hand, am no writer.
This is Hugh Grant, the actor.
Note how they all have longish hair, a tiny bit curly-wavy, and very much flopsy. I do believe this is the essence of the charm of the Englishman. It’s the hair. The aura of vulnerability and creativity oozing out of the follicles and insinuating their way into fangirls’ collective imaginations.
Lo and behold, I am an anthropologist. And I must disclose that I am very fond of the respective works of the men above, indeed I watch “About A Boy” with “Goodbye My Lover” playing in the background while a copy of the Sandman comics rests near at hand.
Images copyrighted to whoever holds the copyrights. I got them off Google, don’t sue me, I’m afraid of lawyers.
Emotional Blunting
I love James Blunt. He’s a revelation. I can even forgive his nasally voice, because his melodic and lyrical skillz are awesome.
With that out of the way, I present to you, my rewriting of “You’re Beautiful”.
You’re Bloody Fat
My life is brilliant.
My love is pure.
I saw a hippo.
Of that I’m sure.
She jiggled every which way.
She was with another man.
And I thank God every day for that,
‘Cause I’m not that man.You’re bloody fat. You’re bloody fat.
You’re bloody fat, it’s true.
I saw your ass in a crowded place,
And I don’t know what to do,
‘Cause I didn’t have space to move.Yeah, she caught my eye,
As we walked on by.
She could see from my face that I was,
Gouging out my eyes,
And I don’t think that I’ll see her again
But I have an eyesore that will last till the end.You’re bloody fat. You’re bloody fat.
You’re bloody fat, it’s true.
I saw your ass in a crowded place,
And I don’t know what to do,
‘Cause I didn’t have space to move.
You’re bloody fat. You’re bloody fat.
You’re bloody fat, it’s true.
There must be an angel with no eyes in her head,
When she thought up that I should be with you.
But it’s time to face the truth,
I will never be with you.
Disclaimer: James Blunt wrote the original mushy song, and I wrote this nasty snarky version. For the proper lyrics, visit JamesBlunt.com, don’t threaten me with legal action. I do believe parody and satire are safe from copyright infringement. If you have problems with me making fun of fat people, take your politically-correct ass somewhere else.
I’m so excited!
Tomorrow is the big day! Tomorrow is the day I marked down specially on my calendar! Tomorrow is the day my plans come to fruition! Tomorrow is the day NUS has its Vanity Fair bazaar!
No, it has nothing to do with either the fashion magazine or the William Thackeray novel. It’s only a bazaar where cosmetics, skincare and perfume products will be sold. What’s the big deal then? The deal, my friends, is that Stila products (one of my favourite brands) will be sold at a huge discount! And that’s always the magic word where females are concerned, isn’t it?
NUSSU Bizcomm had the same bazaar last semester. I think this time it’ll be even more crowded than it was the last time. Word gets around. So I intend to be one of the first there. It opens at 9.30am, and for once I shall make the effort to get up early! I don’t actually have to, since my class tomorrow is at 2pm, but for the sake of Stila *brave sigh* I shall!
Plus one of the boyfriend’s buddies is in charge of this event, so all the more reason to go and check it out, eh? Ok, so it’s not really a reason, I’d have gone anyway. And it’s not like he can get me a discount or anything. But just to be friendly and say hi, yo? They’re very strict on the handbag policy. You have to give them your bag, and they’ll give you a plastic bag to put your selected items in. So while browsing, it’s just you, your wallet, and a bag that’s just begging to be filled up. Very effective psychological maneuvring.
Heck, I even have a shopping list so that I don’t have to waste time looking at products I won’t buy. Plus it might help keep me from impulse buying. The only problem with such a list is that, there’s no guarantee which products will be sold, since they’re mostly the clearance items and last-season stock. It could be the case that the items on my list won’t be making an appearance since they’re very in-demand right now, but it helps to be prepared.
Also, please visit Egg Productions ltd and congratulate the owner on her hugely unexpected SPM results. SPM is the Malaysian high-school diploma, which was the last Malaysian exam I took (driving test notwithstanding). Stupid child (who, if you haven’t guessed by now, is my sister) scored a string of A’s and one B. Not quite as stellar as mine, of course, but it totally exceeds anything she (and I) expected.
When I called her, the first thing she said was “I’m smart too!” How she knew it was me, I have no idea, because I didn’t know that caller ID worked on international phone calls. Ya ya, so she’s smart too. I’m not the only genius in the family. Now she can go and prance around while going “nyanyanya” in front of our other cousin who’s also collecting results. Except that she can’t. Because my mum forbids showing off. Bah.
The boyfriend’s brother is ALSO getting his results. 1988 was a bumper baby year for the Chinese, you see. It was a Dragon year, so left-right-centre there are people whose younger siblings are jumping around excitedly today. I am so happy I’m not in my old school. It’s bad enough to have teenage girls jumping around, but a larger-than-usual number… the teachers must be popping Panadol like mad, while their ears ring from the shrill shriekings.
And because I know the inevitable question… No, I am NOT buying you anything. You have way too much stuff. Not even anything from Stila, unless you pay me for it. I don’t see why I should have to reward you. I didn’t get anything, not so much as an angpow. Hmph. I wonder if I can get backdated angpows from the relatives? Hehehe. Yeah, yeah. *sticks tongue out* to you too.
Abercrombie and Bitch
I swear, I’m not going to buy any more Abercrombie and Fitch stuff online. There’s just way too many fakes looking for a quick buck.
Abercrombie and Fitch is an American teenage apparel brand that isn’t available in Singapore except through the Factory Outlet Store, which brings in stock overruns, defectives, etc. Although to be fair, I’ve never bought anything from them that wasn’t 100% perfect, so maybe they ONLY sell stock overruns and past-season items.
Another avenue to buy A&F stuff is online, either straight from their online store, or through merchants on Yahoo Auctions. I go the Yahoo route, since buying from the US costs crazy much when you factor in the shipping.
In the past, I’ve had some good experiences buying A&F and Hollister stuff online, but recently I’ve been duped. Hollister is the surfy arm of A&F. I bought what was advertised as a Hollister polo t-shirt online, and I paid 20 bucks for it. When it arrived, I was disappointed to see that it was most definitely a fake. There was a small defect that hadn’t been noted on the Item Information during the auction, the seagull Hollister logo was very badly embroidered, and it was sewn on a backing of newspaper. Like, what the hell? Who uses newspaper as a backing for embroidery??? However, I gave it the benefit of the doubt since I had nothing to compare it to.
Last week, I bought 2 more Hollister polos. No, these were most definitely the real thing. The seagulls were properly embroidered, and upon comparison it became obvious that the first polo I had bought was a poor fake. The seagull on that one had been “coloured” outside the lines, the thread making up its body overrunning the outline. I was very very pissed.
A month or so back, I bought a boy tank. I’m very fond of these tight-fit tanks because, well, they’re tight-fit. And being sleeveless, they are very good for tropical weather. But when it arrived, I was a little suspicious. The label had a glaring mistake: “See reverse for vare”. Well, I figured someone had made a huge boo-boo and the whole batch had to be sent away because someone’s finger slipped when typing out the care tag. But then I “saw reverse”. No way were these typos.
“Non chlorine bleach whenneeded”
“Machine wash coldwith like colors”
Look, I know it says “Made in China” on the tag, but no way such obvious errors could have made it past quality control. And China makes pretty good stuff, you just never realised it because you didn’t check the tags on your clothes.
I compared the paper tag to the tag I cut off a skirt (also bought online), and there are small but noticeable differences. Then again, there’s a huge difference between the skirt’s tag and the tag on a denim skirt I bought from Factory Outlet. So which is the real one and which is the fake? If it comes from Factory Outlet it’s almost guaranteed to be authentic, because they are authorised to bring in A&F after all. Does that mean that everything else I’ve been buying is fake, fake, fake?
You’d think I’d learn my lesson, but no. I bought a pink version of the same tank, and it has the same “reverse for vare” error. I give up, I’m no product appraiser and I can’t tell real from fake. The cognitive load is killing me. I’ll just take the easy way out, and declare defeat.
No more buying online from dodgy merchants. It’s more convenient, but it’s not any cheaper, and it’s definitely not worth my peace of mind. Damn you, Singaporean fashion trends! Your siren call is nothing but a lure to spend more cash!
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