Tsk tsk, SMRT

I usually take the 985 bus to Toa Payoh from my house, because it takes the PIE so I can arrive at the next bus stop in 15 mins. On a good day, I can make it to work in 30 minutes, door-to-door.

Today was not one of those days. The 985 was 5-7 minutes later than its usual arrival time, and when it did, the electronic signboard was flashing “Reader out of order, please pay cash”. Dammit! I only had 55 cents, definitely not enough to get me to Toa Payoh.

So I took the 157 to Toa Payoh interchange instead, and took the MRT down one stop in the Southbound direction.

Everything was going fine until we were pulling in to the next stop. The voiceover announcement chimed “Next stop, Braddell”. I looked up in alarm. I thought the next stop was Novena! I knew for a fact that I got on the correct train, because I remembered staring at the Jurong East-bound train across the platform as we were waiting to depart.

We pulled into Novena station. The LCD display in the train still read “NS18 Braddell”. Huh. Okay.

What the heck, SMRT? Who dropped the ball?

Day 26: Let’s go see some friends

Update: Read the scriptwriter’s side of the story in the comments. It is a sad tale of how creativity can be stifled by bureaucracy. I wonder if one day, hall could stage an all-male production of Oscar Wilde’s “The Importance of Being Earnest”, as Wild Rice is doing. It’s a very entertaining play, but will the hall look kindly on cross-dressing men?

Nothing terrifically interesting at home today, except that I ordered an 80-dollar cage for the 3 girl mice. It’s huge, twice the size of the round cage I got Timmy. I bought a new cage primarily because they’ve been known to escape from their play box, and I don’t want them to escape, especially when their only caregiver will be a stressed young man whose hobbies do NOT include mouse-hunting in the wee hours of the morning.

Today I get to dress up and go out to attend Eusoff’s Dance Production! Since my hair loss is verging on disturbing, I wear a hat throughout. I have cancer, what’s your excuse? It’s good to see old friends again, as well as Dr Mark and his wife, who are genuinely concerned about my health. For some reason, I seem to have lost my voice after the show ended. I mean, my voice now isn’t loud, but it’s certainly more than the hoarse whisper that comes forth.

Warning: VERY HARSH review ahead. Eusoffians, stop reading.

Anyway, Dance Production in a nutshell. I’m sorry to say this, perhaps my expectations were too high, but it was a disappointment. Considering that I know practically all the people in charge, perhaps I overestimated their abilities and talents. But I’m pretty sure I’ve seen better.

The script could have done with some ruthless editing. The show dragged on a bit, and I felt that some scenes and even some characters were superfluous, but then I do have a very minimalist bent. I’ve only had the opportunity to work with one scriptwriter, but he’s one of the best young scriptwriters around, and he didn’t treat his script like some sacred cow. I learned from him that when you have to, cut.

I’m not sure if it’s standard practice for scriptwriters to sit in on readings, however – that’s what a director is for. I wasn’t in hall for this production, so I won’t make assumptions about how they went about things, but I am very sure of this: the script could have done with some slashing and burning, if only for reasons of length.

Maybe it’s because I remember so many past productions, among them a farce (Leaving La Vida Loca), and a convoluted but brilliant drama (A Feast of Fate), and I think that we should continue pushing the envelope, rather than falling back into whatever’s funny and comfortable and understandable. You want the audience to leave, with questions in their minds about “What if A hadn’t done X, would B have done Y?” and suchlike. Not questions like “what’s the whole point of that character?”

Again, I would like to point out that never having actually written a script, I am basically spouting conjecture, and what’s more, as an actor and not a dancer, I might have missed the point of Dance Production entirely. Nobody comes to Dance Production expecting great drama. They come because their son, daughter, brother, sister, boyfriend, girlfriend, or Army buddy is acting, dancing or working backstage in it. It’s basically our own recital concert. Here, see how clever and beautiful your son or daughter is!

I think that’s the greatest disappointment of Dance Production. We’re not looking to appeal to the general public, because the support we get from people who are definitely coming (i.e. family members and alumni) is more than enough to fill seats. And because these people aren’t going to criticise you, you don’t improve. Whereas if you had to pull in the general public, you’d probably want to break the mould and do something different, rather than just a family-friendly concert that caters to the lowest common denominator. With A Feast of Fate, I felt that drama-wise, we were really pushing our limits, plus there was that really awesome fan dance. Sadly, very few people understood what was going on in that story, because it was perhaps a bit too complex for the average person.

The acting was mostly okay, but some parts were just… not right. I don’t understand why Andrew’s mad doctor, which is essentially a rehash of his evil wizard last year, didn’t go over as well this time around. This time, it just seemed like overacting to the point of hamming it up. And the character of Alex just fell flat, especially when compared to the other 3 imaginary friends. I just didn’t find her as likable as the rest. Perhaps because the other 3 are more like cartoon characters than real people, it doesn’t matter if they’re one-dimensional, whereas Alex is more like an actual person, but her personality isn’t fleshed out properly so she’s in that no-man’s land of “characters that should be deeper but aren’t”. The other 3 are a Chinese general, a sexy catgirl, and a leprechaun/Willy Wonka cross. They played true to type, whereas Alex, the “Goth-rock chick”, never once fit that stereotype (and by the way, the way she’s dressed: that’s indie, not Goth). The only thing Goth about her is her eyeliner, because she never spouts melancholy lines, or quotes Edgar Allan Poe, or makes allusions to rock bands. They had a chance to let her be stereotypical when they suggested going to the beach, a Goth wouldn’t want to go because they are “creatures of the night” and besides, they’d burn in the sun. But nope, no such joke. So you see? She’s more than a stereotype, but we never do see what about her is “more”.

One major thing missing: motivations. The mad doctor hates imaginary friends and wants them to suffer, but we’re never told why. Presumably, it’s because he is mad and requires no reasons. But it just seems so arbitrary, you know? And we never quite found out why the imaginary friends returned and multiplied. Is it a response to stress? Why so many, all at the same time? And why in those forms? Are they manifestations of his psyche? And if you reply with “stop asking so many questions, it’s just a play” then my answer is, you either take it seriously and build a whole world with proper rules, or none at all, then you have a random play in which anything goes and we can label it “absurdist”.

There’s an idea for next year.

I have no opinion on the dances because most of the time, they bore me. While they’re dancing onstage, I’m actually playing “spot my friends”. However, most people seemed to like the alumni dance best. Experience really does pay off. That, and “only” having day jobs to worry about, whereas the current hall people have midterms, essays, assignments, IHG and other hall CCAs to handle as well. Seriously though, as a working adult I have no homework and no readings, whereas the boyfriend is a very stressed student. I wouldn’t swap with him for anything (except maybe an instant, side-effect-free cure for cancer).

So, one more time: It wasn’t a bad Dance Production. They are to be commended for pulling it off, considering the shitstorm Eusoff has been through in the past couple of months. But let’s not take the easy way out and make excuses. It most definitely could have been better (and I’ve not even enumerated the blunders by the sets team).

Is Straits Times inviting guest journalism?

If you read the Straits Times on Tuesday, January 6, 2009, you might have seen this article on the Le Cordon Bleu cooking school in Paris. Someone wrote about his novel family holiday, which was a cooking course at the renowned academy. So far so good, right?

Apparently, not so when that “someone” is a top civil servant – permanent secretary, in fact. The readers of The Online Citizen criticised the writer of the article for, at best, being out of touch with the grassroots, and at worst, flaunting his wealth at a time of financial crisis.

I won’t comment on these opinions – I have one of my own. And instead of questioning the appropriateness of the civil servant’s actions, I want to ask the Straits Times people instead: Is this article supposed to be an example of guest journalism or something?

You see, to the best of my knowledge, the civil servant is not a journalist on the payroll of the Straits Times. He’s not a syndicated columnist. So pray tell, why does he get his own byline on an article that’s prominently featured in a leading newspaper? The only answer I can think of is that he was invited to share his experiences with the common people, the hoi polloi, whose closest experience to Le Cordon Bleu will be eating the chicken dish.

I find this disturbing, because the media should be separate from the state, and this not only blurs the line, it’s practically suggesting that the newspaper and the government are working hand-in-hand. Is the Straits Times a government mouthpiece? It can’t be true, perhaps I’m just being paranoid.

To give both the newspaper and the writer the benefit of the doubt, maybe it just so happened that the editors wanted an interesting lifestyle story, and this was it. But you can’t ever assume that the readers will interpret it the same way. The negative comments from members of the public already show that the readers can’t separate the writer’s job from the article. You cannot expect us to take the writer at face value as just “someone who had an interesting experience”. Indeed, I can’t either.

To clarify, I’d have been fine with the inclusion of the article if it had been written by one of the Straits Times journalists. At least then, one could always say it was an assignment to humanize the people in government. But for it to be written by the civil servant himself, when he isn’t a journalist – it smacks of being a vanity piece.

Updated January 12th:

Thanks mr.udders! Finally I have achieved my dream ;_;

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*

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.

FTS

Note: Existential ranting ahead, avoid by using the “close tab” detour. Any inconvenience caused is just “too bad”.

Can you tell me what I’m doing with my life? It’s like a messed-up jigsaw puzzle without a reference picture on the cover to tell me how the hell it’s supposed to look. Here’s the bits I pieced together:

I have a job that’s okay by most standards, but because it involves CLIENTS and PEOPLE SKILLS, it tends to get on my nerves. I should have studied computer science and spent my days compiling code instead. Code is logical. It’s rational. And best of all, it won’t judge you. It just returns an error.
I feel like I’m not being given enough leeway to do my job the best I can (i.e. by rejecting certain clients) and yet I still have to be accountable for whatever results come out of this. I have to be responsible for something I never chose to take on board. I’m afraid that’s just life, though. Life as AN EMPLOYEE!
Conditions are less than optimum for me to do my job (no cushy ergonomic chair for me) and I can’t change them.
Today, the only thing I have to look forward to is the chance to do laundry. At last! Clean clothes, resurrect thyselves from the grave that is my laundry bin! Laundry, for cryin’ out loud! Even when I was a wee college girl, we had dinner and meetings and illicit romantic trysts to anticipate. I wish I could go back to college…
I secretly spend all day reading webcomics. The wackier the better. That’s why I love Dr McNinja. He takes me away from the humdrum routine that is my life. And, uh, blogging at work.
I have to “reflect” on my lack of professionalism. Okay, I admit. I couldn’t stand the kid and hence I’ve jeopardised his future by not teaching him properly! Arggh I’ll burn in HELL! What lesson have I learned from this? Next time I’ll tell the kids upfront what I find so distasteful about them, and give them the choice of reforming, or putting up with very awkward and uncomfortable sessions. Perhaps a riding crop might be in order, yes…
If you’re a rubbish parent, it’s going to cost you a lot to fix whatever’s wrong with your kid. Thanks for reminding me why I’m remaining child-free. Of course not all our kids have rubbish parents, and some kids are wonderful despite having awful backgrounds. But you know what they say: The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. And sometimes the apple resents its apple-y heritage, and joins a gang of bananas instead. You may or may not be to blame for your screwed-up kid, but too bad, you’ll have to pay to put him right again.
At the rate I’m eating, I’ll be doing a 10km ROLL instead of a 10km run.

And that is the story of my rubbish life, rubbish because it feels like I live on Avenue Q too, but without the friendly neighbours and the random hookup. I expect to run into Oscar the Grouch any time soon.

What can you do with a B.A. in English? Teach, and that’s what I did with my B. Soc. Sci in Psychology too.

I’m looking for PURPOSE – in the bottom of a Pringles can.

Schadenfreude – that’s what you readers are feeling right now, yeah?

And finally, It Suck To Be Me – and you, and you, and you! Ah, the inherent misery of the human condition!

A Foray into The Graveyard Book

As promised, here is a short review of Neil Gaiman’s latest book for children/young adults, with the title “The Graveyard Book“. By the author’s own admission, the book is largely inspired by Rudyard Kipling’s “The Jungle Book“. The main theme is also the same – a child raised not by humans, but by denizens of another world.

By now, you should have figured out that the child in question, called Bod, is raised by ghosts in a graveyard. How he got there is something I’ll leave to the book to explain. I’m just here to deliver a verdict, folks!

Since I started on more adult Gaiman fare like the Sandman series, and subsequently moving on to “American Gods“, this latest offering feels less epic and less breathtaking than his other stuff. But then this IS aimed at a younger set, and still makes no compromises with the mythological cameos that Mr Gaiman is so fond of. I finished this book in about 4-5 hours, and I frequently interrupted it with my own Wikipedia-ing of the mythological tropes that appear along the course of the book.

And in keeping with most Gaiman stories, the how and why of the entire story is left till the very end, although there are bits and pieces here and there that you can tease out for yourself. This is a good ego-booster, cos it leaves you feeling smart. Kekekeke.

Overall, I enjoyed it, but not as much as I did American Gods or The Sandman. But like I said, this is aimed at a different audience. It delivers on what it promises, and that’s a gripping, entertaining book by the master word-weaver, Neil Gaiman.

We really take in all types.

Today I had nonstop lessons from 9am till 9pm, with only an hour’s break for lunch. That’s tiring enough, but it’s not the hours that are draining. It’s the students, or specifically one student.

We took in a new student, let’s call him Student E. He first attended our revision planning workshop, and during that session all of us had a good look at one aspect of him – and none of us liked what we saw. He was very defensive, rigid and unwilling to think of others. We weren’t even keen on taking him in, but his father was adamant on getting him help.

So he ended up in my class, and since it was a tiny class to begin with, it’s pretty much one-on-one with him. One-on-one sessions can be very enjoyable if I have a good rapport with the kid, as I do with several of my students (who are also relatively bright, which makes work easier). But not only was the kid new, he rubbed me the wrong way practically instantly. Under those conditions, it’s very difficult to build rapport, and I think the kid knows it too. Today he said something along the lines of “teacher, we don’t connect la”.

Yes, he’s the only one among my students who calls me “teacher”, even though I’m not a teacher. The rest call me by name, which is what we encourage. If he’s not able to tear down that mental wall of authority between himself and me, I will only have very limited influence on him. At the same time, I don’t like him enough to want to approach him, so I’m afraid we are at an impasse.

I’m not some insane woman who randomly chooses to hate kids, but this one is really a tough nut to crack. When he first discovered we have wi-fi in the office (who doesn’t, nowadays) he wanted the password. Of course I refused to give it to him, as he’s not there to play games or surf the Internet, and he immediately whined that this was “not fair”. Not fair? What the hell do you mean not fair? This is our office, our wi-fi, and you think you should somehow be entitled to it? Gosh, what a grossly inflated sense of entitlement!

He also has this attitude that everything connected to him is the best in its class. I couldn’t find the proper psychology term for it, although it sounds like something I’ve encountered before. Basically, if he owns a certain brand of item, that brand is therefore the best for that item. If he plays a certain sport, it’s the best sport to play and everything else is for idiots or something. It’s egotism carried to a somewhat delusional and frightening degree, as I have no idea how in touch with reality he is. Of course, such “self is best” attitudes also mean his opinions smack of xenophobia and racism. Frankly, when he starts spouting such rubbish, I feel like calling him a selfish, ignorant little turd.

And he takes everything so damn personally. He’s on a vendetta against the world, so it seems fair that he thinks the whole world is against him as well. When one of my students didn’t answer his question, student E interpreted it as a snub. I guess he didn’t notice that my student just has that kind of “gangster face” that is easily miscontrued as a sneer by those who aren’t familiar with him. Or maybe my student really did snub him on purpose. Hee. At this point I would just call it a misunderstanding and let it blow over, but student E was still dwelling on it later, and making empty threats that he “would have beaten that guy up!”. Yeah, sure. *rolleyes*

Sometimes his arrogance borders on the childish and/or psychotic. During the last lesson, he was telling me that he’s a world-recognised genius (presumably in his chosen sport) and that he’s been invited to speak to various world leaders. Um, really? Even a 6-year-old could see through that. If it was an attempt to impress me, it was pretty bad as well as condescending – I’m not that stupid, you know.

I really have no idea what’s going on with this kid. I have a feeling he’s headed for mental illness down the line if he keeps telling all this rubbish to himself and others – he already seems to have a very tenuous grasp of reality. Add to that the fact that he has limited social skills, and I think the signs do not portend well. Professionally speaking, I’d like to help and improve every kid who comes my way, but for the sake of my own sanity I also need to know when to hold back, defend my boundaries and protect myself from drowning in the deep end when I don’t know how to swim. He’s a very disturbed person, I think, and I’m not qualified enough to help him.

He’s someone else’s problem for another time, and I admit I’ll be glad to see the back of him.

Help KuQi PaQi Burger become a success!

A new burger place opened in the basement of United Square, near Novena MRT. KuQi PaQi Burger has a Japanese concept towards making your own burger. You can order their trademark burger with as many patties as you like, on a bun of your choice, with either American or Swiss cheese, which is optional since some people may be lactose-intolerant.

The name KuQi PaQi refers to their mascot which is based on the Kuchipatchi Tamagotchi character. I once raised one, so I recognised the ducky-looking creature immediately. It’s in line with the whole Japanese feel of the place.

A burger snob proclaimed their patties properly cooked, and this is someone who won’t eat McDonalds burgers because “they’re rubbish”. The fillings aren’t much different from the usual – lettuce and tomato, no onions (which I don’t like anyway). The burgers have a tendency to slide apart, because they’re not wrapped up in envelopes like Carl’s Jr’s burgers are. And where Carl’s Jr make big, meaty American burgers that sock you in the tastebuds, KuQi PaQi makes little burgers (they come in Regular and Petite size) that have a delicate, pure flavour while remaining juicy.

Their Value Meals come with either fries or onion rings, and the fries are the big square kind popularised by British chippy shops. Mine came steaming hot from the fryer, so they were nice and crisp. The drinks don’t come from a fountain either. Instead you choose from an open fridge of canned drinks, and the selection includes lemon tea, peach tea, oolong tea and green tea, as well as the usual culprits. Heck, you can even have beer or milk.

Overall, I like the execution of the Japanese theme. It’s no secret that I’m a big Nipponophile, but the consistency with which the burger joint has been Japanized is very well done. It’s still relatively quiet now, so eat there while it’s still open and has decent service, before it either sinks into the morass of “just another eating place” or worse still, has to close down.

A few things I wish they would improve on, though:

1. The irasshaimase greeting has been given its death knell by half-hearted teenage waitresses at sushi chains. It’s not necessary any more.

2. I know it might be a travesty to some, but I wouldn’t mind mayonnaise on my fries. Specifically, the Japanese Kewpie brand mayonnaise. Available pretty much everywhere, including on my Harvest Moon games.

One final plug for the place: KuQi PaQi Burger at B1-03, United Square, near Novena MRT.

Disclaimer: I have not received any form of payment or compensation for this post.

Bohemia Bunny

The Funnerology Principle

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