The 3Bs Theory of Relationships

Everyone who’s ever been in one is a relationship expert. You can take that line from me and run with it, because it’s so damn true. I’ve been in a few, and still counting, so I’m a certified doctorate holder in Relationshipology.

You probably wouldn’t have guessed from my extensive perusal of Linda Goodman’s Love Signs, Alloy.com’s relationship quizzes, and other such “sources” that I actually have a theory concerning attraction in relationships. Specifically, what factors do we base our attraction on?

1. Brains

You want someone intelligent, who works with you on your level, who gets your deep analysis about things. Even if “things” mean questions such as “How fast can a zombie shamble?” or “What pocket shape is most flattering on a big butt?”

It doesn’t mean that the dumb bimbo is looking for a Harvard professor to boost her ego, or the professor is looking for a bimbo to boost HIS. It just means you gotta be compatible on the brain waves, capisce?

2. Brawn

Is not only restricted to guys. I use “brawn” to mean physical attractiveness – from the neck down. And I’m not saying a specific body type is better than others. If you like tall lanky guys, you like them. If you like small, petite girls, go ahead. I’m not here to elaborate on WHY people have the preferences that they do – I’m just postulating that these preferences form a factor in the overall attractiveness of their partner.

Why do I separate bodies into “neck up” and “neck down”? Oh come on, as if you didn’t already know. A fantastic pair of bazongas can seal the deal for some guys, as long as her face isn’t vomit-inducing. And the fact that Michael Phelps is considered quite a catch (what, of the day?) further bolsters the neck-up-neck-down theory. Have you SEEN him in civilian clothes, sans swim cap and goggles?

3. Beauty

Now we’re talking about the “neck-up” type of good looks. I mean, you’re going to be looking at their face a lot. And unless you plan on taking pictures from the neck down (and I’m not judging you if you do, but it’s bad composition), a decent face counts.

Heck, for some, a decent face is all that matters. Brains can always be engaged with other similar-minded individuals. Bodies – hey, some of us are grateful just to HAVE a body to cuddle with. And besides, everyone’s got the same parts, if you know what I mean. So you see how the face can be a bit of a deal-breaker?

Those are the 3 factors. But what cognitive processes go on in people’s heads when they’re assessing future prospects on these 3 factors? I have 2 postulations, both seem just as likely:

a) Compensation

Compensation is best summed up as “opposites attract”. People seek in their partner the factor that is lacking in themselves, so that through association, they can “have” the same factor.

For example, if I feel I’m very clever and have a great body, but rather a mediocre face, I’d seek out someone who’s good-looking. Or appearance becomes the deciding factor between two otherwise equal competitors. (Totally in dreamland now – no one’s ever had to compete for me.)

In short – whatever you’re lacking becomes the focus for decision-making.

b) Complement

In the complementary theory, whatever you have becomes the focus. Like attracts like. This is especially true when someone has a high societal status based on one of the 3 Bs – you’re famous for that thing, so you need to be with someone similar. Of course, much of it is also due to the fact that people with similar talents and interests will obviously have more opportunities to meet each other, which translates to more couplings. (This sounds like something from my Chemistry lessons on rates of reactions.)

What does this mean for us, the hoi polloi? It’s just as I said above. Some aspect of your personality, such as your job, or your undying passion for Star Wars, is so important to you that you find someone else who reflects that. Or you just spend way too much time on that one thing that you never meet people outside of that circle. Those 2 traits come under “Brains”, by the way. Because, you know, judging people by their bodies or looks is so yesterday.

Standard psychology disclaimer: I would never assert a claim such as “most people are A” or “people with trait X are B”. Human beings are complex, and even a little bit of introspection shows me that I’ve used both Compensation and Complement in my relationships. I’m not here to classify people into groups. I just want to find out what’s going on in our little jelly brains, and share it with the world.

Movie Review: The Spirit

The first I heard of this movie was on a fashion blog. Yep. Eva Mendes and Scarlett Johansson were flanking Samuel L. Jackson at the premiere, and their outfits were being critiqued. I thought it was some supernatural ghost drama or something in the horror genre.

Turns out I was right on both counts. The Spirit is an adaptation of Will Eisner’s comic that set the tone for comics to come. I have Will Eisner to thank for a large part of the comics I love so much today. As far as colourful pictures and speech bubbles on a page go, The Spirit is legendary.

As far as movies go, it’s rubbish. Horrific. Oh sure it looks good. It looks so darn good, like a very beautifully decorated wedding cake. And like most wedding cakes, it has very little actual substance.

It doesn’t even matter what the story is, because by the time the film reaches its climax, you’re already jaded. Truth to tell, I thought the movie was fine. I didn’t hate it, and although it jarred in places, I was sufficiently entertained. But I was also hugely disappointed, not by the movie itself but by how very poorly it did justice to the source material. There have been so many comic-to-movie adaptations, and this is one of the worse ones – it carries over comic elements that only work in print, and it keeps elbowing you stylistically – “eh eh this is so ’300′, nudge nudge this is totally ‘Sin City’ yeah?” because it’s directed by the dude who WROTE those comics.

He needs to stick to comics and keep his hands off movies, that’s my verdict. Just as I wouldn’t think any less of Neil Gaiman for not directing movies, I won’t fault Frank Miller if he sticks to writing instead of directing.

Oh, and the final twist: It would have been fine if Frank Miller had butchered one of his own works – Sin City, 300, Batman – but The Spirit was someone else’s baby, which just makes it that much worse.

Now on to the nitpicking. The movie is set in that 1950s detective-noir style, with fedoras and trenchcoats and dames in hats waiting to be rescued. So far so good, right? Then WHAT THE HELL is my hero doing with a cellphone, and the criminal doing requesting online bank transfers? Oi, I thought we were doing vintage, and suddenly these anachronisms appear. Or are you telling me that the whole damn city is stuck in the fashion style of 50 years ago?

Next: Samuel L. Jackson. He doesn’t even do HIMSELF justice here. Is he playing a crazy villain? Or is he playing a crazy villain who also loves to play crazy dress-up? Or, is Sam “muthaf87kin’ snakes” Jackson just going crazy playing crazy instead of fleshing out a real character? Heck, maybe the whole damn thing is a simulacrum, the artifice that hides the fact that there is no truth. There is no “The Octopus”, there’s just generic-supervillain-bent-on-world-domination foil to our do-gooder masked hero. Pffft. I couldn’t shake the feeling that I’m not watching a character – I’m watching Samuel L. Jackson show up for an extended Halloween. Honestly, it doesn’t even warrant the term “acting” – more like just “wild-eyed antics”.

Next: Scarlett Johansson. If you’re a guy going to watch this film for her sake alone, don’t. She was much better in “The Prestige”, while revealing the same amount of skin (none).

Next: Gabriel Macht, the relative unknown who gets the title role. He’s delicious, he’s handsome, and he has a really nice pair of blue eyes. What a shame his first blockbuster movie has to be such a bomb. He has every right to be bitter if this rotten movie consigns him to bit-part roles for the rest of his career.

So how bad is this movie: 14% on the Tomatometer. OUCH!

Lastly: most critics didn’t think much of The Octopus’ henchmen, identical clones who start out being named Ethos, Pathos, and Logos, and end up being Dildos, Huevos, Ranchos, Adios and Amigos. What I thought was an interesting sideshow in the vein of Odin the All-Father’s ravens, Thought and Memory, became only a cheap gag of suspect taste.

So all this movie is good for, is to remind comic-book fans to pray very, very hard that Watchmen won’t be a phenomenal disaster. *eeep*

Quotes Widget

So I finally added a widgetty-widget to my blog.

Now, techies will point out that everything on my sidebars, including ads and the meta features, are there thanks to widgets. But that’s not what I mean! I mean a widget that actually allows some interaction, instead of just existing for me to put stuff on my sidebars.

Ladies and gentlemen, presenting the random quotes widget. It’s not very random right now as I only have 2 or 3 quotes, and instead of quoting famous people I prefer to quote myself and friends. I use it on my corporate blog to great effect, but I put it here just for fun.

Oh yes, I changed the favicon some time back – I decided a visual representation of a rabbit was more effective than a badly-made letter logo. Bunny-bunny!

Let The Light Shine

I usually leave work after dark, so on my way home I get to pass by a whole lot of houses and condominiums and admire how they’re lighted. The residences with warm, welcoming yellow lighting are the prettiest, which is why I use yellow lighting myself in my room. I have 2 floor lamps and one table lamp, which is all a bit excessive considering my room is only 15 square metres and already has ceiling fluorescent lights.

I can’t help wanting pretty lights, because they make such a huge difference to the ambience of a room. And if you’re looking to make that difference in your own home, you probably should check out BackBayLighting for the widest selection of lights I’ve ever seen online. Trust me, once you’ve seen their selection, you’ll be spoilt for choice. You may think “oh, I’d like a chandelier”, to which the site offers: “Small, medium or large ones?” No way you can’t find something to suit you.

No way you can’t find a price to suit you, either. BackBayLighting orders its selections by price range, and they’re so confident of their competitive prices that they offer a 125% price match guarantee. That’s 125% of the difference between their price and the competing price. They’ll match the lowest price you can find, and then some!

Thanks to their free shipping policy on all orders to all 50 states, the price on their site is the price you pay, period. So, stop living in the dark or under the harsh glare of fluorescent tubes, and light up your life now!

How to renew your Malaysian passport

There are 2 ways: The Lynn Way, and the easy way.

Let’s cover the textbook ‘easy way’ first.

The day before going down to the Jabatan Imigresen office, make sure you obtain the following:

2 passport photos that show your face and shoulders against a blue background
A photocopy of your IC
Your old passport, because I said “renew” up there
A copy of the application form which you can download from the Internet. Make sure you print it double-sided!
RM300 or RM600 in cash, unless you are a student or a disabled person, in which case it’s half-price or free (for the 32-page book).

Now, show up at the Imigresen office in the morning, so you can make payment before 3pm and collect your passport on the same day, after 2 hours of processing time. Any later and you’ll have to return the next day.

Apart from a lot of waiting in a noisy, somewhat stuffy room, it’s a very easy process.

Now, let’s do it the Lynn Way.

Decide to go to an Imigresen office that you’ve never been to before, and make a lengthy detour in the hot morning sun because it was on the opposite side of the road.
Make sure you print the computer form single-sided instead of double-sided, so that you have to pay RM1 for a copy of the form ANYWAY. And fill it in twice.
Neglect to obtain a photocopy of your IC, which means having to queue up and pay 40 sen to some enterprising young men for the use of their copier.
Realise that there is an Automated Kiosk that no one seems to be using, because it’s hidden in a corner and the door leading to it seems to be closed.
Submit all relevant documents via the machine, feed it money, and get a receipt.
Go off for breakfast, find a place to sit down and play Chrono Trigger, and wait for your passport to be ready.

Now whose method are you going to use?

Frankly, the kiosk machine method is so simple, and you don’t even need to fill in a form -_-;;;. RM1 wasted for nothing! It’s not given enough publicity though, because even technophobes can submit their documents via machine as there are helpful officers on hand to press the relevant buttons for you. Why would anyone want to queue up to get a number, wait for the number to be called, and then wait 2 hours to collect the finished document, when you can just head to a machine and cut out the first 2 steps?

Sigh. Anyway, shiny new passport in hand now. My next mission is to go to the Ministry of Manpower in Singapore to handle some “foreign talent” issues.

I CAN TOO keep a New Year’s resolution!

If you’ll kindly look back at this post I wrote back at the optimistic beginning of the year, you’ll see that at the very bottom was a resolution I was “adamant about keeping”, which was to run the 10km event in the StanChart Singapore Marathon.

How’s this? That’s my bib, to prove I took part (pink colour because it’s a women’s event) and my finisher’s medal, to prove that I finished.

Now to recap the day:

I started off easy. Very easy, by walking, because I was stuck in the pack and there wasn’t much room for me to jog very slowly. A slow jog is about all I’m capable of now, since I haven’t been training for the last 3 months.

Did you know that early in the morning, with no vehicular traffic to add noise, the sound of runner’s footfalls actually sounds not very pitter-patterish at all? There’s a certain “stickiness” to the sound, a sort of suction as though the shoes were suckers on an octopus’ tentacles being pulled off the surface of the road. One day I should try recording it to use as meditation music.

The first part of the race involves running down an eerily quiet Shenton Way, even quieter than on normal weekends because of the road closures. At the Marina Bay construction areas, curious labourers came out to have a field day watching ladies run past, while I enjoyed the breeze that came in off the water and helped me dissipate heat. I think the roads in the Marina area were thankful to have runners on them for a change, our footfalls must feel like a massage compared to the rumble of heavy vehicles they otherwise endure.

I had an easy time of it for the first 5 km, mostly because I was walking. I figured that walking at my usual “rushing everywhere” pace let me keep pace with people who were jogging, so I didn’t see the point in running. The 5km mark came after the challenge that is the East Coast Parkway bridge leading down to Suntec. It’s the only uphill/downhill part in an otherwise flat race. I have yet to slay that monster of a bridge by running all the way up it, but I was able to leverage on the downhill bit and cover a bit more ground in less time.

Rounding the corner to the Fountain of Wealth, I bypassed a water point because I figured I was hydrated enough already. When I realised they were serving 100Plus instead of mineral water, I nearly turned back because electrolytes are good for you, but I kept on going instead. Thankfully there was another one not too far away, after we went round the Singapore Flyer and joined up with the runners from the half and full marathons.

After this point I began to seriously push myself. My strategy thus far was just “run, overtake, find a pocket, walk”. I knew I couldn’t run the entire distance and I didn’t want to torture myself. But with the other runners setting a more punishing pace (one swore at people who were walking instead of running, hence getting in his way), social facilitation set in and I decided to run too.

I ran on the Floating Platform used for NDP, where a luxury car dealer had laid out a retrospective of Ferraris. Now that’s not something you get to gawk at every day, so gawk I did. But I couldn’t keep the pace, and fell back to walking a few times, so I wouldn’t have to drag my sorry ass across the finish line.

I then went along Esplanade bridge, which was lined with several supporters already. One girl made a placard for her ‘baby’, and further on, an enthusiastic Caucasian man shouted encouragement. Once done with this, I crossed the Anderson Bridge, and had to start walking shortly after so that I could save something for the home stretch.

Oh man, the feeling when you hit the home stretch. In my condition, supporters are unnecessary, since I’m not going to be able to sprint all the way down to the finish line. And frankly, I wanted to be at the finish line so very, very badly that supporters couldn’t have added to my desire. There was just a huge, magnetic attraction between me and the finish line, because it was all I’d been thinking about for the past hour or so.

Now my entire being wanted to fly towards the finish, and my legs were struggling to keep up. As I neared, I looked at the timing board. It read 2:10:xx, 2 hours 10 minutes. I was horrified at my timing until I realised I was looking at the men’s timing, and looked to the left where the women’s timing was. There, yellow numbers read 1:36:xx. Pumping my arms, I exclaimed “Yes yes!” to myself, and kept going until I could step on the timing mat and register my time. And I kept my sense of humour through it all, I said to the mat “Step on you step on you!” right before I aimed my ChampionChip-carrying foot at it.

Coming off the finish line, I suppressed a retch, probably an upchuck reflex for the sudden exertion I put my mostly-empty digestive system through. And then it was back down to earth to wade through the mud of the Padang (thanks to the previous night’s rain) and do administrative stuff such as collect my medal, return the chip and get my bag.

When I finished with all that it was around 10am. Within an hour, I had located 2 other companions, and we waited for the 3rd person, who was doing the full marathon.

And we waited. I went to the t-shirt collection tent to wait in the sun and get sunburnt on my neck and shoulders. No show. I went between our meeting point and the tent 3 times, each time to disappointment.

Eventually I gave up and went to sit at the fountain. This wasn’t the best of moves, because a) the stairs are hard and b) it’s in the sun. But eventually, 2 hours behind time, he showed up.

Knee injury made it impossible for him to run, and so he had to walk. All the way back from East Coast Parkway. But hey, still entitled to the shirt and medal!

Also, I didn’t so much as catch a glimpse of Kenny Sia, who was participating this year. I guess 1 out of 50,000 people is a bit hard to spot.

So that’s my resolution, done and ticked off before 2008 is out. For 2009, the resolution remains the same: run 10km. Only this time, I’ll be stricter on the timing goal.

My name is Lynn Chan and I run because I promised this to myself.

Looks bad, hurts good

So I went to get a blood test.

I didn’t want to, you know, on account of I know that my blood is clean and free of nasty pathogens like the HIV. But the Ministry of Manpower insists, and if I want to keep working here, I must obey.

The doctor took 6 millilitres of blood from me, which wouldn’t usually be a problem. But it was, this time.

Scary picture after the jump.

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Bohemia Bunny

The Funnerology Principle

Monthly Archives: December 2008