saturday yum cha

As all people know, any decent Chinese restaurant worth their MSG has bad service. This applies the world over**.

King Bo on Russell obviously aims to please.

PhD@23, me, pacinoswhooha. all of us looking very tired, stressed and generally not our best. (could have something to do with the flash too)

Don't worry. No staff were hurt during the taking this photo. I did not use my chopstick ninja attack skills on anyone.

However, we had at least 3 staff members walk straight past us when we asked them to take this photo because, well. They just did. and still no chopstick attack. I must pat myself on the back for such restraint.

The food was average, and I even resorted to Maxims for egg tarts for my groupmates instead of King Bo's. What they did have however, were massive intricate remakes of classical Chinese boats instead, including the Chandelier.



Anyway, soon after, I had to trot off for group study.

The End. (man I suck at photologging)

** I jest. Good Chinese restaurants don't really use much MSG. If they do, I usually don't go back. I wasn't kidding about the bad service though. My Brit friend Yowie once told me there's a restaurant people go to in one of England's Chinatowns to get bad service.

rethinking the month of june

You know how I promised the month of june would be pictures month- as a birthday pressie to alaia?

well I'm seriously rethinking that because I just realised how disgustingly unphotogenic I am. *sighs* I'm trawling through photos I took last night and boy are they appalling. It may have something to do with the fact that I had just finished an exam that everyone walked out of going "WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?!?" AND that I had not a scrap of makup on (which *never* turns out well when the flash comes on).

and there I am, surrounded by my good-looking colleagues. ALL 30 OF THEM! I swear my workplace is populated by good-looking staff. Someone was definitely a bit pak-zhiao (cross eyed) when they chose me. (and that someone has long quit)

it is a birthday pressie though. So ok lah.

I shall be nice. YOU ALAIA, know how much photos annoy me so I am making BIG SACRIFICE OKAY!?!

EDIT: just went through pics from fri and sat as well. MAN! I should seriously consider at least concealer.

bludgeoned by the musical baton!

It took less than 9 days before the Singapore blogosphere shrank in on me (starting from mrbrown that is). PHWOAR. Courtesy of Kavi, I hereby present you with my hopeless meme.

Total volume of music files on my computer:

They’re scattered all over the place but I’d say…about 4.5 GB

The last CD I bought was:

The World of Nat King Cole

Song playing right now:

Alicia Keys- Karma

Five songs I listen to a lot, or that mean a lot to me:

Oh gosh. The soundtrack to my life DOES NOT STOP AT 5!

WHAT DO YOU THINK I AM? A DOCUMENTARY?????!!!!????

The 1^st that come to mind are: (I’ll keep going till I stop, or till 10, whichever comes 1st)

Collective Soul- Run

Sting- Fields of Gold

Smashing Pumpkins- Bullet With Butterfly Wings

Nirvana- The man who sold the world

Nelly- Ride Wit Me

Jimi Hendrix/The Corrs- Little Wing

David Tao- Sha Tan (Blue Moon)

Robbie Williams- No Regrets

Bobby Darin- Beyond The Sea

The Offspring- Come Out And Play

PM Dawn- Set Adrift On a Memory Bliss (yes, that’s 11. I couldn’t help it)

Five people to whom I’m passing the baton: (chosen because I know these people write public blogs)

redshot

ahhock

val

offkilter

jeddahsterling

while researching my ethics paper

the ethics of blogging and the influence of bloggers.

and

http://www.ojr.org/ojr/stories/050217lasica/

BUMPER BLOGDAY POST

EXTRA LONG! YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!!! (with pictures!)


first of all, to prove that it's me and not my army of monkeys from uz-beck-istan, here's a recent photo of me.



who care's if it's blurry and you can't tell that it's me? You can tell all my distiguishing features!

tiny eyes, freckles, cheekbones like I was caught sucking on a straw when I was young and the wind blew in and made it stay that way. and green. of course.
****

Today someone told me he thought I was innocent.

Good GOD. he obviously doesn't read this blog.

So I asked him why...and he was like...well, your glasses, the way you look, you're always smiling, and you're so friendly....

WHAT?!?!

in the immortal words of Britney, I'm not that innocent!!!

you want proof?

***


Apparently the forces of evil in the comic book are all some kind of sexual deviant or another. ( I can't seem to make this sentence grammatical and I can't be bothered trying)

The dominatrix, myself, and now introducing...

Dragonwhore Z.

gee. isn't he creative.

He's further er, fleshed out my part (no news on my name yet)- apparently because of my pimpin' faux fur super-short cut jacket and of course, my RAVISHING GOOD LOOKS. *cough cough cough*

my superpower it seems, is "sex".

SHEEEEESH.



KAPOW!!!!

you can't argue with that jacket now can you. (Britney is fair game however)

Of course, I look a whole lot more INNOCENT in that jacket.


AWW SHUCKS


what an irony considering I am probably the store's most celibate staff member.

Maybe that is the secret of my IRRESISTABLE SELF.

"you must maintain your charm, same time maintain your halo" to quote Keilis

so I charm the pants *cough cough* off everyone while maintaining my halo! Ta-dah!

***

actually, with regards to my irresistability, I have a complaint to make. From attracting dodgy men, I seem to now attract NO MEN. This is sad. Although I prefer this situation to the dodgy situation.

Maybe it's because I've moved workplaces. Along with no more crazy racist druggies trying to strangle me, I also lost shoplifting drunk midgets trying to pick me up.

Lately, I've been trying to pick up quotes off everyone here, because I want something to remember everyone by, and I have a crap memory. If I make an effort to actually remember funny things they've said, or stuff that's "SO (insert name of person)" then I can actually remember the person so much better.

So I've been taking a list down. Also, I've been taking more photos.

Alaia is always asking for more pics, so in a belated birthday pressie to her,

The month of June shall be PICTURES MONTH!!!!

Anyway, here are some funny funny quotes so far (to me anyway)

"But myst, boys are delicious!' - after my friend cross-examined me about why I'm still single. AGAIN.

'we need to get you laid' - gerri, usual horny self.

'you're like Bree from Desperate Housewives...go into the toilet, scream for 5min and come out and EVRYTHING'S FINE. JUST FINE' - gerri, on my stress-coping tactics and how I seem to 'stay so calm'


'Yeaaaah. The speed gets me up, the valium keeps me down, We Don't Eat At ALL. OH NO' - White Trash in response to a customer who was convinced none of the staff eat

'Have you seen that episode of Simpsons?' - White Trash

'you're like fucking gandhi' - White Trash

'Pimpin' - Tom, in a mock Indian accent

'she'll get the order wrong!' - English Rose on my cousin,

'Sweeetie' - Nanh, in the fobbiest (fake) accent you'll ever hear

'I'll marry you for $100 000 and a car!'

'No car, $100 000'

'99! 99!!!!'

'We'll row to Tasmania!'

'you can live downstairs, I'll live upstairs. we'll stock the master bedroom with clothes from Savers'

Nanh and Jen, fighting over who wants to marry me.

"myst, you smell" - Magicman

'but Asian women are evil' - The boss.

'I had this dream about you last night. you me and linda owned a shop together, and we lived upstairs. but even though we owned this shop, linda used to make us get up at 7am every morning to open the shop anyway' - white trash on her subsequent dream about me- following the one she had about me living below work in a hobbithole.

'He loves me! He loves me!'- Jenn

'Let's get her a dildo' - Erlin on what to get for a wedding present

'Furry Dice!' on what to get Linda

'YEAAAAAH. Do you know how to screw a lightbulb with one hand and pat the dog with the other?' - Harveen and Anika to Gordon, my extremely shocked (gay) lecturer

***

MOURA'S FAREWELL. MORE PICS!!!!!

my favourite boys

umut and derek - wanna be communists

hall is TOO CUTE. so is ying.

I'm not here- don't bother looking

***

and my post on child labour

One of my dad’s many cousins has rejected the illustrious lineage of the family (professors, lawyers, doctors, the occasional knight of the order and whatnot) and become a cook in Melbourne.

In fact, he owns a small takeaway joint in a very posh suburb and does home deliveries.

During one of my group meetings, I had to go down to that suburb and found out that my teammates MissSunshine and EnglishRose regularly get takeaway from that joint.

For dinner we then rang him up and ordered delivery. After MissSunshine hung up she turned to me.

“There was this really little voice on the phone. I mean, it was really professional and all that, but it was little. Like it came from a little girl”

I smiled, extremely bemused

“That’s because it did. That was my second cousin. She’s about 7…maybe 9”

EnglishRose flips out

“SEVEN! She’s SEVEN! She’s going to get the order wrong!!!”

I laugh

“Don’t worry. She won’t. We’re Asian. We start young”

English Rose can’t decide if I’m joking or not. The look on her face was priceless- like she couldn’t decide whether she wanted to start lecturing me on child exploitation or to laugh at my joke.

Actually, I’m only half joking.

I realised this a long time ago, that there was something fundamentally different in the way children were so highly prized in Western culture.

I mean, we can wax lyrical about how they are ‘little emperors’ in China and ‘little treasures’ everywhere else, or we can quietly compartmentalise them as the more kids the merrier. More to look after the parents when they’re old, more hands to help out in the home and at work.

You know, slaving over the looms making precious Persian handmade carpets and all your sneakers. Or picking your antioxidant packed green tea.

Sure. But even in those circumstances and everywhere in between lies something about Asian children.

They’re just not…sacred. Children may be spoilt, the child the parents’ heaven and earth, but they’re not…almost godlike.

It’s been branded into Western (and by default Christian) culture- that there is no innocence like a child. That everyone should aim to be childlike in their innocence and trust. And that it’s a sacred thing, this childhood.

And it’s something every child should have. A childhood.

But even while Asian parents are spoiling their kids rotten, they’re packing them off to ballet/tap-dancing/piano/violin/speech and drama/deportment/modelling classes. Self-actualisation seminars, Superkid camps. The works.

Why? Well, it’s a classic case of using kids for one-upmanship.

You Jones, Me Better.

And of course, we beat kids. Let’s not even get started on this one, but in general, if Asian kids are naughty, then we get beaten.

You try beating a Western child, and 60 minutes will be called in, the family courts will be after you, and the kid him or herself will be threatening to call Kids Helpline.

Watch Russell Peters’ segment on childhood beatings and laugh your head off because it’s so true. ("White people, BEAT YOUR CHILDREN." man. I crack up every. single. time.)

Western kids on the other hand, are meant to have a childhood. Do what they want, have time to play, blah blah blah. You know, roll around in green grass, get all muddy, and because they smile ONCE at you, you’re supposed to forgive them.

That’s why kids are used so much more in Western advertising. Kids here are talked to. Not talked at.

And while everyone knows about how ‘women and children’ are meant to leave first in an emergency, the reality doesn’t really hit.

“Children hurt” is often used as a headline. This used to amuse the crap out of me.

Instead of “47 people were hurt in an accident” it would be “11 children hurt”. I never saw it as a drawcard to buy the paper.

And while it’s fairly common to see a kid running to the corner store to get some milk back home in first world Singapore, I remember my shock at seeing an unaccompanied kid turn up and try to pay for milk in Australia when I used to work at a grocery store.

My first thought was “What the hell! Where are his parents! Horrible parents!” Before “Child Exploitation!”

I was so used to parents taking kids out of the car, walking all round the store with kids in tow that seeing a kid grab milk made me jump.

Then I loosened up.

What the hell. They start kids younger than this where I come from.

I used to do this. I used to like it. I most certainly wasn’t being exploited.

And besides, the kid’s mum was in the car waiting right outside the door. What the hell.

I was turning into a stuffy conservative. At 19. (then)

And that’s when I realised that you can take a girl out of Asia, but no matter how banana the girl is, you can never take the Asia out of a girl.

happy belated blogday to me

I realised my 2nd blogday came and went without me, its owner, even noticing.

My poor blogs. How unloved they must feel. I sure hope they don't develop any issues, counselling costs.

Source: http://www.flickr.com/photos/peterkaminski/14113540/

An extra large wheat free birthday cake for you my sweets. I do love you in my own warped way.

I've realised that I haven't kept to my promise of allowing comments on this blog. Well, that shall be my first sweeping change!

And I shall plot an extra large, extra huge, extra everythingwithextraextras post in celebration!

Maybe even photos! Oh you lucky readers you.

*slaps forehead*

the only thing you can do in situations like this.


http://www.campusmoblog.com.sg/main/index.asp

WHY do you need to judge a blog on grammar and spelling if it's their own business? What if the audience they write for would *prefer* if they wrote lik dis coz dey all beri ACBC wan.

In fact I forgot the little ~sw|r|y~ bits~ and |{~s*tarz~]}| and ToGgLE CaSEs!

huh? huh?

den u dun say I say u lah, but realli lor, dey engaging audience mah. Sure confirm win wan! *rolls eyes*

Continue blogging, I shall. in abundance, shocking gremmer is prevail.

EDIT:

Backstreet's Back (alright!)

Incredible but true.

the long awaited rant

I realise that my rants seem to be my most popular blog postings (or at least they were over on Xanga) and I also realise I haven't ranted in a while.

Before you think it's because there aren't enough people getting in my way, or that it's the effect of all the caffeine I've been drinking that's making me so content, think again. It's only because I've been too busy to bitch.

So. without much further ado, here's a big one, because this bitch is bitchin'.

MELBOURNE CENTRAL FITNESS FIRST PROMOTERS

FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, GET OUT OF MY FACE!

in this case, I'm not using the name of the lord in vain because unless you really love him all that much, you won't want to meet him much sooner than you expect non?

Then get out of my way dammit.

I'm going to name one of the promoters in particular. You, the Asian guy with the silver glasses. Yes YOU. I know hard-selling probably gets you customers, but it's bordering on harrssment you nincompoop.

Scene 1:

I walk past the promoters on the way to the toilet. All of them start shoving pamphlets in my face, Glassesboy is particularly aggressive.

"Join Fitness First!" he yells overzealously.

I smile politely and decline

This is obviously my first mistake as I'm acknowledging his existence. While I actually like to acknowledge these people because it's a thankless and soul-crushing job, and like all the others, I'm saying no, at least I'm doing it nicely. In this case however, it was my biggest mistake.

"Get fit! blah blah"

I walk past.

As I walk back out of the toilet he shoves pamphlets again.

This time even my "I'm not interested" doesn't work.

He starts going on and on and on.

I ignore him

Scene 2:

I walk past to get to Borders.

Guy starts his whole thing alloveragain.

I ignore him this time.

He actually JUMPS IN FRONT OF ME.

What does a girl have to do to tell you she's not interested!!!??!! sheeesh.

He's all aggro again, and tries to get me to sign up.

I try something along the lines of "sorry I'm already with Fitness First"

he doesn't believe me.

yells AFTER me as I walk off.

Scene 3, 4, 5 and 6:

repeat scenarios 1 and 2

Scene 7- the absolute clincher:

I'm walking in my work apron- a conspicious brown ankle-length apron, with a trolley stacked high with milk crates containing 36 milk bottles (yes, filled with milk).

Tell me how you're supposed to miss that.

Unless I wear a huge cardboard sign across my chest emblazoned with the words

"Can't Talk, I'm Working!"

I don't think I can get any more obvious than that.

but noooooooooo, apparently he's still blind despite his corrective eyewear.

He actually tries to proposition me while I'm lugging 4 milk crates in a brown apron!

I have construction workers holding doors and pressing lift buttons for me (!!) and this guy is asking me to join the gym.

Gee dude, can't you tell I'm working out as we, or rather, YOU speak?

Weight training and cardio all in one!

Besides, I'm with a better gym than yours, nyeh nyeh.

I don't get it. I really. don't get it.

My boss seems to enjoy my company, and likes hanging out with me after work- catching up over a bagel. and I've realised that out of work (as in "after office hours", not as in "when he's unemployed"), he's a great guy.

Don't get me wrong. He's a great boss- but because he's a great boss, you don't neccessarily get to see My Boss- The Person as opposed to My Boss- The Boss.

Anyway, he recently divulged that out-of-work, he was actually quite an optimist.

I actually laughed in his face.

And no, I didn't commit political suicide. He doesn't mind. Like how he calls me a freak and announces that all Asian women are evil (his de facto is Asian so he's kidding) and I can tell him he has middle-child syndrome and that he obviously didn't have a very happy childhood.

Once I stopped to catch a breath, I catch a smile on his face.

"You're SMILING! YOU Never SMILE!" I gasp half in mock surprise, half in real surprise

"Well, not at work I'm not. I'm the world's most money-minded realist, but I am in other aspects of my life"



I kinda pooh-pah-ed it then, but this week over lunch he dropped this bombshell on me



He's in Melbourne for love.

He went through all the trouble of getting an Aussie visa (almost as difficult to get as the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, Hello Kitty and Dear Daniel wedding plushes at a McDonald's queue in Singapore or pork floss buns from Breadtalk in Jakarta) and giving up a life he loved in London to move to what people commonly view as "the other end of earth" (no matter from where they're from) for love.

I stared at him in stunned silence.

"You don't approve" he half-smiled, it sounded more like a statement than a question.

"No, no..." I said thoughtfully

"I just think......it's.......a *really* big step to take in a relationship"

I smile at the memory of last week's conversation

"Man, you really are an optimist"

he smiles back

"or stupid."

I laugh.

still alive

barely. but I am.

I have recieved my 1st wedding invite!!!!!

Of course I've been to receptions, too many Chinese Wedding dinners (you know, because you're the grand-aunt of the person getting married who's related through your cousin 6 times removed by marriage), the odd staff wedding of parents, blah blah.

BUT THIS ONE IS ADDRESSED TO ME!!

ME!!!!!

NOT TO MY PARENTS, ME!

hahahahahahahaha.

I am so happy.

It's gonna be a really posh wedding, and apparently while it's gonna be a thoroughly white western wedding reception I'm attending, the bride is turning up in Tibetan traditional dress because her hubby's Tibetan. HOW COOL IS THAT?!?!

A nice reception by the bay with a bride in Tibetan dress replete with bells and stuff!

WHHHEEEEEEEEE. It's the marrying season I swear.

because less than a week before this wedding, I'm attending an engagement ceremony (this one's Hindu/Northern Indian). Must go dress shopping after exams.

I'm SO EXCITED.

I'm stupid, okay.

(orginally written last monday)
'
I find that the content on each blog provider varies.

Xanga for example, has many more comments due to its eprops system, and Blogrings. The content is mainly either a) emo b) personal for private purposes c)personal for public purposes d) pictures.

Being on blogger, you find so much more political content.

and while I like the anonymity blogger gives me, the seriousness with which people blog hurts my brain.

I read blogs for entertainment. And while learning about things from all over the world certainly constitutes entertainment, some of the topics are so academic, or written and argued in such an academic way, that my head hurts.

I mean, it's my fault my blogreading time of preference is late at night before bed, but to ask me to say,

"describe why the exploding frogs in Germany may be related to oh I don't know....Catholic rhetoric and the Apocolypse"

is while entertaining, extremely brain draining. I try to give answers as best as I can. But I realise honestly,

I'm just stupid.

So I'm just going to moesy away, mind my own frigging business, and have nothing to do with politics, lawsuits or social issues at all. I'm just going to read it all, absorb, and read everybody else's comments.

My brain can't seem to cope with active participation. It's like a "single-use" thing. I comment once, and when someone else replies to anything more difficult that "Hey HI!" it simply shrivels up and disappears into gibbering idiocy.

I think it just registers :ACADEMICS. NON SCHOOLWork RELATED>>>>AUTO-SHUTDOWN.

seriously.

actually, it's just an excuse. I really am just plain stupid.

Goodnight guys. I'm going to sleep instead of allowing my bimbotics to pervade.

flirting and the rules of attraction

After going with chalyz several times and watching her interact, and adding that to my observations of Christine and alaia, I've finally come to understand how to flirt. Subtle flirt that is, as opposed to gerri, marijuanacocktail and TheDiva's out-and-out open warfare.

I've also come to the conclusion that you need to be an extrovert to flirt, and that it really is too much effort otherwise. (cue gerri and dopey: "coffee, tea, or me?" They make it seem SO EASY!) Or perhaps I have the attention span of a goldfish.

I've come to realise that if someone I've met once came up to me again, chances are pretty high that I won't remember you. In fact, last night, all someone did was walk upstairs, and when I next set eyes on him, I couldn't recognise him- and when he tried talking to us I gave him the worst greasy until chalyz pulled me aside and told me he was with us.

I don't look at faces. That's my problem. Which is probably why I remember faces for such a long time once the face finally registers.

LISTENING TO: Jem- They (she did a Holly Valance in the MTV but I think she just might actuallu be naked) [she's on rage atm. sounds like Dido collaborating with her brother or the new toyota ad]

link-o-rama

"Satire is a sort of glass, wherein beholders do generally discover everybody's face but their own"--Johathan Swift

*****WARNING*********

Following post is about nothing BUT Singapore. Those not interested would do well to keep away or run away screaming at Singapore overload.

I give up. I'm not the political type and all, but I'm caving in to the AcidFlask issue because this is preposterous.

read this

then read this and this

AND

read the comments just to get an idea.

(If you're interested in the AcidFlask issue, read this or just go to http://tomorrow.sg and search for acidflask - then of course, read how the world has been told about the decision not to sue the poor sod because we're (or Mr. Yeo is) so mangnanimous and if you're really really interested, here's the direct link to SMH's version of events)

Reuters, AFP...there's no better way.

Aren't we just a beacon of liberty

And you wonder why we're so stressed and we have the least sex in the world (and has become a matter of National Security).

According to its 2003 study, Singapore ranked last for the second year in a row in the frequency with which men and women reported "having sex"—96 times per year, or eight times a month on average. (Hungary ranked first last year, by the way, averaging 152 rolls in the hay per annum). (Durex sex survey)

THEN AGAIN, the whole world's turning into Singapore

I guess that's one way to deal with world population.



and in lighter issues,

How about the rest of the world catching up with the Singapore rich-man sydrome?

Please note that some of the links are intended for sarcastic comment. Bloody people with no sense of humour.



Here's a bloody legal disclaimer (as per my media law studies form 2 years ago)

This site is designed as a personal blog with extreme sarcastic and satirical comment by its owner, silvermyst. Information within this web site is provided for the purpose of personal and/or entertainment use only and is provided in good faith without any express or implied warranty. The author makes no warranty, representation or undertaking whether express or implied, nor does she assume any legal responsibility for the accuracy, completeness or usefulness of the information provided on this web site. The author accepts no liability, whether direct or indirect, for any loss or damage a person suffers because that person has directly or indirectly relied on any information provided on this web site.

In no event shall the author be liable for any special, indirect or consequential damages or any damages whatsoever resulting from loss of income or profits, whether in an action of contract, negligence or other tortious action, arising in connection with the use or performance of the information on this website.

[please also refer to creative commons license at the bottom of the page]

Just in case you suckers didn't understand "Sarcasm" and "Satire".

As if I really like Muzak and Billy Ray Cyrus.

For more sarcasm, if you actually like that kind of stuff, please refer to this post. Oh we're so full of the milk of human kindness this month aren't we. <---also sarcastic comment.

I watched as she made another joke.

I watched as the flitting frittering hangers-on twittered

I poked at my food with my fork, chasing my peas round the plate.

I swirled my goblet of white wine, prime estate 1997, admiring my nail polish as I try to make a discrete whirlpool.

I realise that there is no lipstick stain on the crystal.

I hear a voice through the fog.

"What's wrong Rhiannon? Surely the illustrious company can't be boring you!"

I realise my elbow is on the table, my eyes trained on the goblet held at eye length.

I untip my head, shift my gaze and stare coolly at her.

"Oh hardly. This party is a crackup."

I smile my sweetest smile.

hot and cold

hot and cold
Originally uploaded by silvermyst.

hot and cold
the story's getting old
wash it all down the drain
let's start from the beginning again

hot and cold
it trickles in a stream
and sometimes I wonder
why I entertain the dream

crazy stories over birthday dinner

HERE'S A RANDOM QUESTION:

What's the plural of Elvis?

Normally with words ending with an 's', they become 'i' such as funghi, hippopotimi...Elvii?

But because it's a name, you don't exactly go round calling 2 girls named Claris 'Clarii' just because they're in the same room next to each other now do you? Just Claris-es.

But multiple Elvis-es aren't actually names per-se, they're a description of a movement. An entity if you will. They're Elvis Impersonators, not Elvis himself. (well, except for Elvis Costello- and he rocks- in more ways than one)

How did I get onto this?

I had another birthday dinner this week, this time at the Stokehouse along St Kilda beach.

A note for everyone: Overpriced, crappy service, average food, atmosphere wasn't really there. Maybe it's because we were in the galleys instead of hoity-toity and even more overpriced upstairs. I'd rather go to some of the places I've been eyeing off around St Kilda. Nice floor to ceiling glass panes facing the beach though.

We were celebrating EnglishRose's 30th, and as usual, it was a UN convention with every continent represented. Well, except Antarctica, but you knew that didn't you. While the food wasn't great, or even interesting, the company was both.

I finally got the chance to say more than one sentence to Ms SouthAfrica's boy (I'm calling them by countries now if I haven't already given them names- I'm too tired) and he's one cool dude. Let's call him Mr South Africa.

Apparently he did some artwork for murals in Melbourne Central (click here to view- he bases his women on MsSouthAfrica!), loves the Outre Gallery as much as I do, and is a former goth just like Ms SouthAfrica.

He also has tons of crazy stories he has to use props to tell.

Pictured here, is a re-enactment of how he nearly got killed by a horse in Monument Valley.

It's a great story to tell the gradkids.

Which got us onto crazy Vegas/Arizona/Utah/America-in-general things. Like UFO radio.

Or Hunting Channels. Like, what the hell is up with hunting channels? Sometimes, the guy doesn't even get the gazelle/deer/prey and he misses and the credits roll. WHAT THE HELL?

Or TVengelists. God Save Us from TVengelists.

So while on the subject, I told them about the time we were stuck in the middle of the highway because a turtle was crossing the road.

YEAH.

You read right.

A TURTLE. was crossing the road.

Apparently there are desert turtles in Nevada, and you can't touch them. So you simply have to wait for them to cross the road.

Don't get me wrong. Mr. Turtle was probably hurrying. Although it's difficult to say with turtles. I can't imagine why he wouldn't be though, if he was stuck there with bitumen underneath, fumes all around and a rather high chance of going splat.

So. It just so happened that there was a convenience store stuck in the middle of nowhere. And I. Mean. Nowhere.

It was just some sort of trailer hut looking thing. Weatherboard. Nothing around for at last 50 miles.

I walk in, buy something, push my change across the counter, and watch as a pudgy hand with too many rings suddenly pushes change across as well.

I follow pudgy hand to owner and almost squeak in shock. I'm pretty sure I literally jumped anyway. You know how people say they 'jumped' but they really only 'started'? Well, I'm pretty sure my feet left the ground.

Because, yup. Pudgy hand's owner was an Elvis Impersonator. White rhinestone studded suit, curry puff hair, dark sunglasses, leather cowboy boots.

Pushing changed across the counter at a convenience store in the middle of frigging nowhere.

Strange things happen in the desert I tell you.

Mr SouthAfrica nearly gets run over by a horse running with a pack of dogs, and I meet an Elvis in the middle of nowhere while waiting for a turtle to cross the road.

Then AllAmericanBlonde pipes up. "My dad watches the hunting channel"

SAY WHAT?!?!

my memory is as crap as crap can be

Chicken and Val have been writing beautiful memories they've had of me (and not as a fat snotty little brat either)

I'm afraid to say the good in me was probably used up far too early, resulting in the bitch from hell I am today. (or so I tell everyone)

I honestly don't remember that memory Val! I remember Miss Lee because like everyone, I idolised the crap out of her (before we met Miss Tan). I'm still a rabid purveyor of er 'justice and equality, so as to achieve happiness, prosperity and progress' *cough cough* only because I believe people should get appreciation where it's due and it's NOT FAIR if you do better than everyone else and don't get recognition now is it?

and an orthodontist at 8?!? are you serious?!? how come I don't remember that!

I remember things that are utterly embarrassing. I was a disturbed child.

Like how I used to blatantly ask for people's food in P2 because my mother had put me on a diet of one apple and a tetra pack of UHL milk that was constantly sour. and how people ( I can't remember who they are anymore) had to go tell the teacher...and my mother then gave me a handful of these horrible biscuits in addition to the apple and sour milk.

This was in the days before I swore off recess altogether and became anorexic in P6.

Anyway. here's a little recipro-post

MEMORIES OF CHICKEN MAMA

Chicken asking for breast meat (which is how she got her nickname) during recess.

Playing Fool's Ball.

Ah ha. Nigel being your neighbour!

and then the huge 'scandal' when we found out KJ was your cousin.

man we were so jobless!

I remember glasses, tan skin and untamable hair that always stood at some odd angle due to its thickness.

I remember 6G and 6H always used to go on class outings together, and we'd constantly be at the back of the bus, SINGING. How the teachers coped wth us I don't know.

Oh and I think that you were a yellow number (i.e. the sun formation) during the SEA Games opening ceremony. Am I right?!?

MEMORIES OF VAL

I remember Val much more clearly. (she had a blue or green tag for the SEA Games I think)

Val also had crazy hair. I think we all did.

I remember her (old) house. and I remember loving the crystal hanging over the venetian mirror in her doorway.

Parties at her and Jo's house.

Her crazy mother. Her mother used to drive everywhere like it was an emergency, and when she came to pick us up from ANYWHERE you could hear the engine a good 2minutes before you even saw the chilli-red sports car. I've come to realise that most doctors are slightly crazy in a fun way. Her mum was the fun-ness.

I remember her parents coming over to my house to take tips from my parents on their new place.

oh. and of course, I remember sam.

AND. Val and Jo were responsible for introducing me to TaeKwonDo.

HAI-YAH!

all grown up now

I'll admit that despite all claims that I'm an extremely grumpy crochety old lady in a 22-year old's body, I'm simply not old enough to claim I have old times.

That said, a recent spate of coincidences have led to me finding several blogs of people from my past life in Singapore. A past life I'd long put behind and may soon have to come face to face with again.

Among them, I found Val (who was Miyagi-ed about 4 blog posts ago) and Chicken (name withheld to protect the innocent), people I went to primary school with.

Chicken was talking about maybe forming a contact list of sorts (I think we do have one, and Doreen has it) and catching up on old times.

These are people from primary school mind you, and my memory while horrible, remembers these people as part of some of the best times of my life. Back in the days before I became the cynical bitch I am now. I mean, I was a jaded cynical child, but I was most definitely much less cynical then.

So I surfed round friendster, and found ALL THESE PEOPLE from primary school, who have since (understandably) grown considerably.

While my memory remembers all of us at 3 feet, snotty smelly little beings in ill-fitting dark blue shorts and extremely bad hairstyles, friendster has shown me how these people have grown.

As Chicken herself said when I mentioned a name, she remembers "A little guy".

That's exactly it. In my memory, we're all still ranging between the ages of 6 and 12. And then on friendster, I see old classmates with photos of their "3rd anniversary", in far flung corners of the globe, (interestingly, very few are in Singapore) from Cambridge to Chicago, Illinois to Perth. New York to Michigan to Wisconsin to San Fran. and everything in between.

I see credentials. Med school. Law School. Scholarships. Masters. PhDs.

I see faces I remember, but inextricably older, puppy fat long faded from angular features. The "little guy" when I bumped into him about 5.5 years ago is now at least 1.76m tall.

and I laugh.

and I wonder if that's what it's like to be a parent.


One day, you look at your kids and all of a sudden, they're all grown up now.

my neighbours are the coolness

my neighbours are the coolness
Originally uploaded by silvermyst.

I've been stressing for over a week now, what with essays and presentations coming out of my ears, while still going to work.

Been eating junk, and it's been showing up on my skin, not sleeping properly etc etc.

So imagine my surprise when I found this at my door.

It's my neighbours, with cookies, returning a dish they borrowed from me over easter because I'd given them apple and cinnamon muffins I'd baked in it.

The note says:

"Silvermyst, Sorry it took so long to get your dish back to you. Hope you enjoy the cookies! B & T"

it's really the little things that make your day.

MOOD: happy but stressed (still)

durians

things you learn while writing an essay about Singapore

What is known about the durian is that the ripe flesh is a complex hybrid of volatile sulfurous compounds, not all of which have been identified. These compounds oxidise upon exposure to air and are responsible for the complex flavours that develop.

Maybe it's all those compounds combined with alcohol that kill. Not all that 'heaty' 'cooling' stuff. Although that is an oxymoron is it not? Since something is 'heaty' or 'cooling' because of it's components.

HMMMMMMM.

you know when you read it like that, it makes durians sound so darned freaky. No wonder white people freak out. They hear stories about unidentified sulphuric compounds, see this spiky killer thing, smell something akin to rotting flesh, and you wonder why they wouldn't go near durians with a 10ft pole.

I'm starting to wonder why a horror movie involving durians hasn't been made yet.

The article also states that Thais actually pick their durians. The reason why Malaysians and Singaporeans don't like Thai durians is because they're not ripe enough for us.

comments enabled just in case chalyz *ahem ahem* wants to tell me about the Kadayawan Festival.

hmmm

I just went to Melbourne uni in my pyjamas.

I thought 'well ok, it's just down the road, zip in zip out, I won't see anyone'

After all, I graduated about 2 years ago from that uni.

How wrong I was.

Gee, how could I have forgotten, about 80% of my high school gets into that uni. PER YEAR. Sheeeesh.

Wardrobe:

Daggy Year 12 jumper, check
track pants in an unflateering cut that have since expanded and look even more unflattering check
in an unflattering colour check
huge baggy tee underneath check
sticking out from under the jumper in crumpled rumpled glory check
bad hair check
eyebags check
ever-expanding pimple colony check check check.

charming.

amidst the 150 year old heritage buildings, the happy flitting birds, the rolling green grass, the huge statues, rock fountains and old old trees, is me, train wreck du jour.

Bumping into one of those fakers from my high school didn't help either. She's so fake her earrings are less plastic than she is.

And when she gave me a pitying once over, I simply smiled as I continued walking, "sorry have to run! bye!"

I'd forgotten there were such things as double degrees.

DAMN.

oh and SHOCK!

there is no serpentine queue the length and breadth of China in front of Plush anymore! What has the world come to!

No queue, no overly made-up girls snapping 'ginger, soy, wasabi' before you even get to the counter, no hip music pumping out, Oh Salvatore, why did you sell Plush?

That was one of the essential Melbourne University experiences! Right up there with the Ballieu Library sub-Saharan temperatures, The South Lawn picnics, Naughtons, the 'dophins are humans too' sign, (now replaced by a sign nearby that says 'this way for dolphins turning into humans'), the smelly gym (now replaced by state-of-the-art-gym) the socialist left-wing protests!

There are entire Farrago articles dedicated to the queue in front of Plush! What happened?!?!

I have an Asian Values induced headache

Reading: Greg Sheridan- Asian Values, Western Dreams

you wonder why Singaporeans have such an identity crisis. Other than the fact that we're supposedly being told what to do and running (and blogging) around like infants. Or that we're such a young country.

I'm saying it's the shock of turning 1st world in less than a generation. And ASIAN VALUES.

The more I read about Asian Values, the more pedantic I'm getting.Quantum Physics is looking extremely appealing at the moment*.

In the spirit of a UNITED ASIA and MULTICULTURALISM and all that jazz I thought I'd reveal one of the best-kept secrets ever.

Absolut Pictures.

Start with Mulit and click on the sly little showreel on the left. It links in to all your arthouse advertising *ahem* I mean, movie needs!



Mulit is BRILLIANT. from the trailer to the final execution. It's simply. Whoa. Like the real thing, but shorter! The themes! The stock characters! The out-of-time lip synching! All that's missing is Shah Rukh Khan and his jiggly beer belly as he prances around despite being about 3 days away from dying of heart failure.

and the most astounding thing about Mulit? Is that it's directed by a Czech guy. Not an Indian. Someone's done their homework.

And the reason Absolut make these cool 'arthouse' shorts?

They embed the Absolut logo everywhere. You have to find them. It's Where's Wally without the pause button or wardrobe malfunction.

It's killing my bandwidth but I figure I can go to school and watch the rest. I watched the trailer for the Italian one and it looketh good. Very good.

One man, 5 wives. 5 wives get together for revenge, including a very very disturbing scene involving all 5 wives crowding round a bunch of grapes (more than a double entrende here!) and snipping the er, dangling outlyer off.

OOOOOOH FUN.

When oh when are they going to do a kung-fu flick?

Absolut Authentic. (oh shut up. I can be as trite as I want to. It's late, and I'm not being paid for this)





* gross exaggeration. I could never do vectors in high school, and if I can't do maths in the 3rd dimension I have a snowball's chance in hell of doing maths in the 4th, 5th (6th?) dimensions.

toldcha I was evil

toldcha I was evil
Originally uploaded by silvermyst.

refer to superheroes (23/4) post in order to fully understand what I was talking about.

In real life, I am not a call girl. Simply a money sucker in training- taking over your minds, your hearts, AND your money.

BWAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHA.

Truth! Love! Beauty! Freedom!

other than the fact that I am totally pilfering off Moulin Rouge, I thought this would be a semi-appropriation of Gewn Stefani's pets Love, Angel, Music, Baby.

She should meet some of my Jap friends. They aren't even harajuku girls and they'd whack her stylised L.A.M.B(s) into Shibuya wilderness where Ganguro Girls would eat them alive. Her poor stylist would be so traumatised by the fake eyelashes and copious amounts of cakey white eyeshadow on Beyonce-toned skin she'd probably misappropriate EGLs next- just to show them how to match white eyeshadow. (and yes, I know they hang round Harajuku too)

Why am I so antagonistic tonight?

Because the Hollaback Girl song has been in my head.

Say Bananas! B-A-N-A-N-A-S. OOH! Say Bananas! B-A-N-A-N-A-S!

There's only so many bananas I can take.

And you know what they say Gwen, you give bananas you get monkeys. No wonder one of your harajuku girls seems to have disappeared in the MTV.

Silently going bananas with: essays

While trying to retain a semblance of sanity with: U2- The Hands That Built America