Wah....A Singaporean 'Elite' speaks out!

Hi all!


I've just recovered from work trauma during today's Hari Raya Holiday when I came to read on the article in the Strait Times about this AMK's MP daughter making a name of herself in bloggerdom. This Wee Shu Min gal, aiyo...I tell you, if you never read, must take time to read lah....it's a case of

buying a pc: $2K
writing a blog entry: 30 minutes
writing with your full name in your entry, dragging your dad's name through mud, demarcated a country into the elite and stoopid and create a news furore at the same time: priceless


OK in order to be fair, here's the one article that started it all. This is by Derek Wee:


**********************************************


By Derek Wee
Oct 12, 2006

When I read the Straits Times article (dated 24 Sep) on PM Lee calling the young to be committed and make a difference to Singapore, I have so much thought about the issue.

I am 35 years old, graduated from University and gainfully employed in a multinational company. But I cannot help but feel insecure over the future of Singapore. Lets face it, it’s not uncommon to hear, “when you are above 40, you are over the hill”.

The government has been stressing on re-training, skills upgrading and re-adapt. The fact is, no matter how well qualified or adaptable one is, once you hit the magical 40, employers will say, “you are simply too old”.

We have been focusing our resources and problem solving on low unskilled labour. But in reality, our managerial positions and skilled labour force are actually fast losing its competitiveness.

I travel around the region frequently for the past 10 years. It didn’t take me long to realise how far our neighbours have come over the past decade.

They have quality skilled workers, and are less expensive. When I work with them, their analytical skills are equally good, if not better than us.

It’s not new anymore. Taxi drivers are fast becoming “too early to retire, too old to work” segment of the society. I like to talk to taxi drivers whenever I am heading for the airport.

There was this driver. Eloquent and well read. He was an export manager for 12 years with an MNC. Retrenched at 40 years old. He had been searching for a job since his retrenchment.

Although he was willing to lower his pay expectations, employers were not willing to lower their prejudice. He was deemed too old. I wouldn’t be surprised if we have another No. 1; having the most highly educated taxi drivers in the world.

On PM Lee calling the young to be committed and make a difference. Look around us. How dedicated can we be to Singapore when we can visualise what’s in store for us after we turned 40? Then again, how committed are employers to us? But we can’t blame them. They have bottom lines & shareholders’ gain to answer to.

Onus is really on the government to revamp the society. A society that is not a pressure cooker. A society that does not mirror so perfectly, what survival of the fittest is.

But a society, where it’s people can be committed, do their best and not having to fear whether they will still wake up employed tomorrow. Sadly, Singapore does not offer such luxuries and security anymore.

On the issue of babies. The government encourages us to pro-create. The next generation is essential in sustaining our competitive edge. Then again, the current market condition is such that our future has become uncertain. There is no more joy in having babies anymore; they have become more of a liability. It’s really a chicken and egg issue.

Many of my peers, bright and well educated have packed up and left. It’s what MM Goh called “quitters”. It’s sad but true, Singapore no longer is a place where one can hope to work hard their lives and retire graciously. It’s really the push factor.

A future is something we sweat it out, build and call our own. Unfortunately, people like me, mid 30’s going on 40’s, staying put by choice or otherwise, we can’t help but feel what lies ahead is really a gamble.

To PM Lee and the Ministers, we are on a different platform. Until you truly understand our insecurity, the future of Singapore to me remains a question mark.


**************************************************


So ok hor? Not too heavy, I hope? Now here's the reply from the zarbor:


**************************************************


mom’s friend sent her some blog post by some bleeding stupid 40-year old singaporean called derek wee (WHY do all the idiots have my surname why?!) whining about how singapore is such an insecure place, how old ppl (ie, 40 and above) fear for their jobs, how the pool of foreign “talent” (dismissively chucked between inverted commas) is really a tsunami that will consume us all (no actually he didn’t say that, he probably said Fouren Talern Bery Bad.), how the reason why no one wants kids is that they’re a liability in this world of fragile ricebowls, how the government really needs to save us from inevitable doom but they aren’t because they are stick-shoved-up-ass elites who have no idea how the world works, yadayadayadayada.

i am inclined - too much, perhaps - to dismiss such people as crackpots. stupid crackpots. the sadder class. too often singaporeans - both the neighborhood poor and the red-taloned socialites - kid themselves into believing that our society, like most others, is compartmentalized by breeding. ridiculous. we are a tyranny of the capable and the clever, and the only other class is the complement.

sad derek attracted more than 50 comments praising him for his poignant views, joining him in a chorus of complaints that climax at the accusation of lack of press freedom because his all-too-true views had been rejected by the straits times forum. while i tend to gripe about how we only have one functioning newspaper too, i think the main reason for its lack of publication was that his incensed diatribe was written in pathetic little scraps that passed off as sentences, with poor spelling and no grammar.

derek, derek, derek darling, how can you expect to have an iron ricebowl or a solid future if you cannot spell?

if you’re not good enough, life will kick you in the balls. that’s just how things go. there’s no point in lambasting the government for making our society one that is, i quote, “far too survival of fittest”. it’s the same everywhere. yes discrimination exists, and it is sad, but most of the time if people would prefer hiring other people over you, it’s because they’re better. it’s so sad when people like old derek lament the kind of world that singapore will be if we make it so uncertain. go be friggin communist, if uncertainty of success offends you so much - you will certainly be poor and miserable. unless you are an arm-twisting commie bully, which, given your whiny middle-class undereducated penchant, i doubt.

then again, it’s easy for me to say. my future isn’t certain but i guess right now it’s a lot brighter than most people’s. derek will read this and brand me as an 18-year old elite, one of the sinners who will inherit the country and run his stock to the gutter. go ahead. the world is about winners and losers. it’s only sad when people who could be winners are marginalised and oppressed. is dear derek starving? has dear derek been denied an education? has dear derek been forced into child prostitution? has dear derek had his clan massacred by the government?

i should think not. dear derek is one of many wretched, undermotivated, overassuming leeches in our country, and in this world. one of those who would prefer to be unemployed and wax lyrical about how his myriad talents are being abandoned for the foreigner’s, instead of earning a decent, stable living as a sales assistant. it’s not even about being a road sweeper. these ****bags don’t want anything without “manager” and a name card.

please, get out of my elite uncaring face.
posted at 12:08 PM

And here was her public apology on one of the blogs that were discussing her entry :
i apologise if i have distressed you with my tendency to rant. while i will not dispute some of the points you make in response to what i have written, i would like to bring to your attention the fact that the post in question was never meant to be a cogent response to the specific points raised in derek wee’s article. it is, quite obviously, a rant in the heat of the moment. in addition, i don’t believe that my blog has the wide readership of derek wee’s, or even your own, and my intention was more to vent my own frustrations than public denouncement.

i’d also like to clarify my use of the word “elite”. while i understand how misinterpretation may have arose, i intended to use it in irony, as a label that people assume i enjoy, and not one that i take particular pleasure in.

finally, i admit that i was harsher than i should have been, although the the crux of my belief in self-improvement and self-determination has not changed. once again, i apologise if my words have unintentionally offended you - i was under the rather naive impression that nobody reads my blog


*************************************************************


Hey, the purpose of this entry today is not to add oil to the frying pan liao, I think she's doing a good job of it so far trying to set herself on fire.


I just want to say that her dad? that AMK MP? Yup, he also 'elite' hor, Raffles all the way, then Stanford and yadda.


Guess where she got all her teachings, inspiration, social conscience from? Yup, no need to be aghast at the daugther when its the Dad and the Family who brought her up. This is called mei you jia jiao. Confirm its because Papa like that, daughter also like that.


Some one's paying the price for his actions and it's certainly not Derek Wee.



And to all those scholarship hopefuls out there, perhaps you should be glad you did not get in, because- can you imagine the type of people you might meet? and the type of personality erosion you might suffer?


Buddha Forbid.


Haiz.....I fear for Singapore.


OUT!


AKK

How AKK's brain is functioning....

work work work work work work work work work work sex work work work work work work work work work sex work work work work work work work work work work eat work work work work work work sleep work work work work work work work work work work work work work workwe loormw work wowek work work work workw orke sleep slerrp slepep slurr .....



and that's how everything breaks down.....



OUT....

AKK.....*collaspe*

A trip to HSA

Hi all!

Man, have I been fricking busy! I thank you all for your fine comments in the previous and previous previous blog. Although I often wondered how come nobody actually tried to ask more deeply into the problem of me being attracted to some one older…..


Oh hell, never mind, I’ll talk about it now…


Yes! I admit! I got crush! In fact, I’d be the first person to say that although you may be attached/married/arranged by grandparents to enter a stranger’s life and become part of his family, we all, yes, we all! Still have eyes that can see, ears that can hear! OK?! I admit! Hands up!


Do not take out thy sight nor block thy ears nor cover thy skin just because you are ‘taken’. This is a free world, there is no ownership, love should never be described nor seen as such. Love is not slavery nor self- prohibition, but agreeing that when all is said and done, there is always somewhere else you want to belong with, a place, a person; that you’d rather be with, even after seeing-eyes and hearing-ears.


To move with the times, Love is no longer the same definition as when our parents came together. And was never the definition then when our grandparents came together.


So back to the crush, as all crushes go, this one went by pretty fast. First he looked like delectable Harrison Ford to me (HF being my all-time favourite lao-ah-pek crush). Now, he now looks just like a Ford, ie. efficient and generally trusty, but not much fanfare. So after this period of moral enquiry, that leaves only the ‘taking second glances at the more distinguished profs’, ‘imaging Daniel Wu strapped and naked on the bed’ and ‘enjoying another older colleagues lilting Scottish brogue’ kinda-fantasies left to be savoured and morally dissected.


Ah! To be human and conscious about your thoughts is the woe of Man.



But I digress! Today, I shall be talking about the myth of blood donation.


I have been donating blood on and off since a nondescript email was spammed to me in the 90s, asking for donors to save the life of a Timothy Chan Ho somebody. A little leukemia-stricken boy. Bolstered that finally an email is asking specifically for my own blood type, I went to HSA and asked to donate to him.


Only to be told that while HSA is extremely grateful for the blood I shall donate, there are many other kids, not just him, who’ll require immediate attention and that my blood shall be given in order of priority. Because for every child who’s had publicity and help through internet and email-forwarding, there are a lot of others who don’t.

Remember that. Everything that you know is always the tip of an iceberg. But every drop of blood that comes out from my arms can perhaps mean a few more minutes to live. To some people, these minutes mean the difference between closure and a lifetime of hanging ends, words unsaid and unheard.


Always remember that there is no action too small that will help or harm a person.


Ah! But off with these heavy words! I was talking about the myth of blood donation. I had heard it many many times, coming from first-timers, old-timers and no-timers (ie, never try before). In fact, most culprits are plump auntie first-timers nervously fretting on the donation couch, seriously regretting their burst of charity after seeing the nurse rip open the needle syringe package.


‘Mee-si, mee-si,’ they quavered. ‘I heard blood donation makes you fat. Is it true?’


To which the nurse will sweep her arm across the room and ask, ‘Auntie, you got see any fat ppl or not?’


Which always makes my wildly happy because I was included in the radar of ‘got any fat ppl or not’ while she swung her antennae fingers and forgets to stop where I am.


So you see, there is a more sinister reason for me wanting to donate blood. Other than the compulsory feeling of the brotherhood bond with Mankind that I am giving Life to the needful, is the feeling that on the contrary to auntie’s last-minute back-out line, I actually feel that I lost weight after donating.


And because of the digital scale in the doctor’s room during checkup.


Yup. You heard right.



Since blood donation is a commitment of every 3 months, every 3 months, I’d be asked by the doc to step onto the scale to weigh myself. And that particular scale, I have given it the honour of being the most accurate scale around in my Life. Let’s face it, normal bathroom scales are always a + or – of 2kg and even when I’m sick, my GP never asks me to measure my weight.



Ever since I started donating blood, my weight has been steadily declining from a cushiony 58 kg to plateau at my current 47kg. Of cos, I had been exercising over the years but certain things you just tend to equate one with the other. That said, it was a plateau I'm delibrately keeping since you aren't allowed to donate if you are 45kg and below.


Since I’ve become the borderline of ‘can or cannot donate blood because you have too little mass’, that scale is a constant fixture that I’d see every 3 months. And like an old friend whose name I’d forgotten, the doc would introduce us again. I’d catch up with it by climbing on top and update it the happenings (food intake and lack of exercise) in the past 3 months. It almost always tells me I’m keeping my weight at constant and that’s usually around 47kg. To which I’d proudly announce to the doc, who’ll tick my name in the form and proclaim me fit for blood donation.


So recently, the urge to do good and meet my old friend came back round again. A happy occasion, I walked in HSA feeling like a veteran, filling the form nonchalantly because I knew every single question.


Then when the doctor called my name, I did not hesitate once. I was excited that my old friend shall soon proclaim me a healthy 47kg and allow me to drip enough blood to fill a Yakult bottle.


The doc and I did the normal-- blood pressure, questioning of general health. Finally the doctor stopped scribbling and turned the page over to fill in my weight. I waited for the doctor to introduce me to that shy contraption at the side of the room.


He looked up with a bright smile.


‘OK! We’re done! Please proceed on to the glass door on the left.’


‘But….but….what about my weight?’ I glanced at the beckoning scale.


‘Well, what about it?’


‘Don’t you need to know my real weight?’ I was frankly aghast at his rudeness and lack of social cue.


‘Oh, that!’ laughed the doctor. ‘No worries! You definitely can donate blood.’


‘But you still need to fill up my weight!’ Last ditch attempt and frankly shaken out of routine, I pointed out the blank on the form.


‘Oh, that’s OK. You look like…hmmm…....' a pause. 'You look like you weigh 55kg.’


Missing my look of open-mouth horror, he neatly flourished the number ‘55’ onto the blank. Just like that.


So while invisible shards of glass pierced mercilessly through me, he callously added, ‘and that’s 10kg pass the official weight limit. So you’re safe to donate. I can TELL.’



AAARRGGHHHHH!!!! AARRGgghhhhh!!!!!!! aaaRRgghhhh!!!!!!!!


While I was silently agonising, he flipped my past records and quipped, 'hmmm....I can see your weight's now back to your first few donations, what happened?'


'I got married.' I mumbled in shock, hands moving over my suddenly slack thighs...


'Congratualations then, so both myths are true!'


'What myths?' Unconciously, I rolled out my suddenly obvious expanding love handles with my hands.


'That blood donation and marriage can make you fat, of cos. what else?'


.......Choujidan…..Blood donation will never be the same again……….


Out!


AKK

Run For Funds!!!

Hi all!

Another year, another marathon and another bunch of kids get given a hand to help them along. Welcome to the RunForFunds Project where every fund gets given to the children and none get choked in red tape, admin or corruption. Jaywalk has asked to help out on awareness, but I think its neccesary anyway since it's only a good thing to announce good intentions and they actually do not entertain anonymous donations.

So interested parties can click on the link to Jaywalk's post to find out what its all about. Those who periodically run marathons *hint hint to SibehSian*, can actually do it for a good cause. How about that for both hobby and karma?

that's all!

Out!
AKK

The Chronicles of C, Vol. II -- Liking older men…

Warning: a rambling post…


Ok ok, I know most of u out there are probably aghast at the title already. Most usually means the younger bunch whose version of right and wrong is still a black/white painting, the morally-upright who paints in black and white and the religious who tries.


I’m here to tell you about my black/white. When I was younger, I was all of the above. It accounted for a lot of things that happened or didn’t happen to me. I saw my world in rights and wrongs and never thought that sometimes grey is a better shade. That means most of the time, I’m almost always a moral prick who, while accepting of others their own pursuits in life, is always tramping on my own adventurous streak.


As I grew older, I often got into fights with my parents, trying to plonk my Views on them. I’d get angry from reading the newspaper about Batam chicks and their S’pore husbands, ugly divorces and murders of passion, ie hubby kills wife because of infidelity. I started viewing from a high moral standing ground while my parents tries to explain away that sometimes, just because this aunty cheated on her hubby, it’s not because she is loose, it’s because…


And then I’d stop listening. Because listening to another side of the story, the aunt’s, would incur my sympathy and understanding. I didn’t want to be understanding, understanding will tip me off my pedestal. Yea, I really was such a prick.


Given a choice between experimenting some different but choosing a stable hard cold place, I’d take the latter.


If I wasn't so myopic, I would have gotten laid when I was 16, clubbing before 18 and probably tried ecstasy during then. Would have left S'pore for an overseas education, pursue the arts rather than science. Writing plays and acting for a living. Taken dance classes and compete.


I could have been such a different person if I wasn't so afraid of being brave.


Which is why I said I was boring. I didn’t really live my life the way I wanted it. I always chose stability and necessary evil over anything else. I had frens tell me they sian-half when I told them some of my near misses. Very hurtful, frens, and all too late to change the storyline. Because of these misses, I read and derive sensationalism and dissociation by reading instead.


I wished I had taken those steps though, just to make my life go out of line, just to plunge it into uncertainty, just to experience the emotional turmoil that might follow.


Why not? There’s only one life to live. People say to learn from other’s mistakes. Perhaps in work, that’s true. But Life? How do you truly learn other’s mistakes when you aren’t living theirs? Everyone has a different approach to problem-solving, everyone has a different set of solutions and choice with each same action.


So why am I saying all these? From my ‘hunky-dory’ voice blog to an abrupt question that I might have chosen my Life choices somewhat regretfully?


Because when you live Life through learning the mistakes of others, you are living life like a watered down teh-ping. Tasteless and dull. No life experiences to concentrate the tea and lots of one-side (meaning my own side) versions of the stories/mistakes melting like ice.


I’m not advocating young gals out there to take all that life is giving, the good, the bad, the ugly. I’m just saying that life isn’t all black nor white, so listen to both sides and decide the shade of grey it should be. Make informed choices and provisions for any losses that may occur.


And accept your frens for their own choices. Only leave them when they are too extreme and are influencing you the wrong way, like drugs, wrist-cutting, paid sex, destroying your relationship with your family etc etc. you know what I mean.


Some things are just black, and that includes people.


Why the title? Because it’s true. I have found in me the capacity to be attracted, even in holy matrimony, to another person way older. And I know exactly why.


Because I like his abandonment and his joy and lack of reserve. Ironically, I like his youthful outlook in Life in one so advanced in years when I cannot like the same attitude in someone younger.


I read in a book that infidelity is being unfaithful in your thoughts. Having thoughts you don’t share with your loved one but willingly tell another.


Oops! I am confused. So was I being infidel when I was…


1) Admiring my older colleague’s chest?
2) Fantasizing about having Daniel Wu tied and strapped naked to my bed?
3) Taking second glances at some of the more distinguished-looking Profs?
4) Listening in delight at the lilting melodic Scottish burr of another older colleague?


And deciding I should tell everyone here but my own adorable A?


Huh. Tough.


And then I have read that being attracted to another person even when married is a very common occurrence. Apparently I am among the millions and am truly the norm, the bulge in the middle of their demograph. I can admire men, their bods, their looks, in the privacy of my own thoughts.


And then it says, unfaithfulness is a matter of action. As long as you don’t act on it, you are not.


How grateful I was to read about it! I did not marry the wrong man! I am not unfaithful!


What I meant to say is, really, is that I can see why C likes that guy. She and I have come a long way and in terms of being nice and decent, we could have been nuns. At the very least, I was sex-deprived and I knew it and took pains to stopper it. She, on the other hand, was pure as snow, nary a bad, red-hot thought.


And on the question of being unfaithful, of being the 3rd party, of being in society’s assumption of black, is the question of how much of the other person’s story you want to hear and accept.


Remember the tale of the Emperor with No Clothes? It could have been the story of the Bad Boy who Spoke Disrespectfully of the Emperor, or the tale of the Town who Promoted Nudity or the Tale of the Emperor and his Big Pink.... Butt, even the tale of The Year All the Sheep Died.


It is not a matter of how black or how white.


It is a matter of how far back and how little of the story you want to hear.


How much will you hear before you judge?

Out

AKK

The loading of the links!!!

Hi all!


Finally I've found the perfect solution to permanently put up my voice blogs! Here are all (most) of them, so for those who have not had the chance to destroy your eardrums...well, here it is!


The back-by-popular-demand JihPahBan album:

Commentary- always always hear this before hearing the song

Choujidan- the extra behind the scene

JPB- the song that propelled this blog to notoriety

Mariah- the comeback single sure to chill you even in sunny singapore


The Miss N and AKK series: stars guest fren Miss N on her valuable contributions and countless giggling. There's no better audience....

Miss N and AKK on a quest- Quest for what? click to find out...

Conversation with Miss N about the treadmill- AKK goes to the gym...


The more serious Singsong for A:

Babytalk- hey, brown eyes, this is for you....

yup, that's all, folks, sorry for the re-runs, but i'm in the midst of editing another vblog right now, so if you guys just bear with me a while.....ahem......

Thanks all!

out!

AKK

Kam siah!

hi all!



Very long time no see! Finally got a bit of time to relax, so thank you all for your time and all those finger-clicking onto my blog!


Finally learnt how to use a permanent link! hope it works!

Click here!


enjoy and love you all!


out!
AKK

Tomorrow is a Big day for me...

Hi all!

I surmise from the title above that some ppl would be thinking exactly the things I want them to think. Which, if you haven't now, you'll be thinking furiously and hence end up thinking what I wanted you to think...either way works.....

No lah, only 'big', not humungous or gigantic...heheheh....if one day, i say GARANTUAN, it's probably time to bring out the champange and toast the rendering of my piece of tattered flesh to me...

For those who are still scratching their heads, then i applaud your mental innocence and hope that you'll find out about it in the best kind of way possible-experimentally and of own free will.:)

But as usual, I digress! Tomorrow's a big day for me because of work! Yes, work, my only other Life right now apart from...well...Life. It's now so huge, it's like a moon eclipse. we are running an event tomorrow that will make or break my supposed career, so the pressure's on to perform. (yes, although i did possibly mention my dream career is to be a nympho, i won't be performing any subtle cloth-ripping moves...sadly...)

So if you guys happen to suddenly go 'ting!' and a light bulb appear over your heads and you screamed, 'oh my GOD, so SHE's AKK!!!'. Please do so quietly hor. Thank you for reading my blog, but pls don't tell my colleagues, my friends, family, A etc etc...In fact, please come approach me and tell me and shake me by the hand. Tell me the secret password loudly and proudly

--what big red ang ku kuehs you've got there!--


.....and give me your name and address. :)


Bear in mind that my slapping you across the face is the second part of the password. Do not walk away from this point! Remain standing stock-still with big grin and stare at me till Security comes, that's the 3rd part! I shall meet you privately at the holding area later....


Leave your windows open tonite too....:)


I'm currently still stuck in my office, which is amazingly full of things I cannot wait to complain, but must shut up because I'm sure the office server picks up words like 'complain', 'boss', 'mistake', 'kopi?' and 'slack' like the US picks up 'bomb' and 'terrorist'. So it will be a mistake to complain about the boss in the midst of slacking while frens jio me 'kopi?' in word format and of cos, i'm too smart to do it, especially in my blog using the interent in my office.


So I shall say nothing. Except that tomorrow's a big day and if you guys don't hear from me here ever again, know that i love you all and would slap you (pretend only)if you were to shake me by the hand tomorrow and give me your name and address (after giving the password)....


Give me luck and to my dear tih-kong, I know i never seem to remember you when my life is good, but tih-kong, pls ba-you me tomorrow is shun-shun-li-li hor. Tih-kong, please twirl your magic over me so i may suddenly possess the knowledge of my professor times infinity, the voice of an angel and the vocabulary of a lawyer.


Kam Siah Kam Siah to infinity also.


ok liao, i better go do my work. You all take care hor. *hugz*

Out!

AKK

working...

Hi all!

Time is now 8.30pm and I'm still working....Haiz...but at least work is frankly extremely exciting and very unnerving... Damn stressful, must learn a lot. Oh well, hope you guys and gals out there are enjoying yourselves, ok? Miss you all so much, dun even have time for msn or even reading your blogs....is what i miss most...


see see?! i cannot even think straight liao. Those idiots (not naming who) had better increase my pay!!

a little thought:

why, and I mean it, do mature men like young girls and gals, on the whole, like married men?

Is there something different in young single gals that attract older men?
Is there something fascinating about married men that attracts single young girls?
why am I hearing so many incidences of it occurring?


So a sound-out to your pple to Leave your comments....



that's all, folks, I shall be free-er after the month of august. must continue working now...


out!
AKK

Busy Busy Busy.........

In the new workplace, a conversation between AKK's supervisor and new BB (Big Boss) in the absence of AKK:

S: She's doing pretty ok. Although I think she is a bit of a retard, if you don't mind me saying.

BB: How's that?

S: She's always glassy-eyed and tends towards drooling. Happens everytime I talked to her.

BB: I know that symptom. I see it in my subordinates all the time. It's all down to brain power, you know? You gotta use the power. AKK seems to be always on 'standby'. Perhaps we can make her jot her brain a bit.

S: Like how?

BB: More Work lah. What else? Oh yes, we need to monitor her toilet breaks. She runs off to the restroom pretty often. She seems to have a bladder problem.

S: She has great thirst too, judging from all the trips she made to the dispenser.

BB: Well, as good employers, we've got to help her solve her mental and urinary problems. Next time you catch her smuggling down the hallway again, ask her to run over to your lab and help out the technicians.

S: And her bladder?

BB: Tough love. Cut down her trips to the restrooms and time her breaks.

S: Right you are, Sir. BTW, Sir, it's ingenious.

BB: Yes, of cos. Right, your time's up. You can drink up and go back now. That'll be the last trip for today.

S *inspired and runs off*


--------------------------------------------



So dear all, sorry for the lack of update, visits, hollers from MSN etc etc etc. Work beckons and my jobscope just expanded.



Argh.....but I'm loving it!


Out! (of love for you guys)

AKK

The HK Trip and the GSS

Hi all!!!




Nadnut is quite excited about my buys in Hong Kong, so I've decided to splash all my stuff here to make her green with envy (or not), hur hur....

To all the guys out there, well, you can skip this post lah. It's all clothes and shoes and bag and accessories and.....


Take a look!!!


cotton white strap top with 3 white buttons and turquoise pants with elastic at the hem.





Bought these bags in Nathan Rd, rather like Singapore Orchard road. But frankly? pls go Argyle street for this Far East Plaza look-alike shopping mall crammed to the max with pretty good deals. But don't believe them when they tell you it's real leather. It's not. you can smell the difference.

petal-cut white bag with brown faux leather straps, super big bag. it's got a fabric lining inside, so it'll not fall apart like those plastic linings that rip from the seams.

on the right is a safari print fabric bag from Esprit Factory Outlet....it's only S$20!!!! *gasp!* when in HK, must must go to all those factory outlets, ok?!!! got super serious deals, man!!!



Green knit top with matching flower brooch from Argyle Street. White Pants I just bought from Queensway yesterday at $15 dollars for TWO Pairs!!!! Muahahaha! Eh...if only I can find back the same shop again though. Damn place is a maze....



My best buys in retail were these shoes! all in all, about S$15 a pop! Very nicely made fabric shoes! From Argyle street (see? what u waiting for? go!). First one is my personel favourite, with a grey elephant stitched onto each pair! Second is this rather-like-schoolshoe thingy drawn with a silver marker and edged with gold lining. 3rd is this sunny yellow open-toe wooden plats with silver lining. the 3rd is a bit uncomfortable and i'm a fraid it'll pinch. second pair is sadly very hastily put together, with the inner sole not well glued. I didn't find out till it's too late. so please make sure that u guys check your purchases before u leave the shop.




Oh yes! and here's some of my own works. I've been tinkering with beading recently and have been making some trinkets in preparation for a temple/charity booth drive in december! My colleague have me roped in for half a booth to display my stuff! Yay! it's great because as u can see from the works, I haven't got my jewellery-making thumbs up to scratch yet, so I'm learning still!




Okie! not a lot of wrds but there u have it! Nadnut, hope u are groaning in envy! muahahahaha! and for those who needs further details for HK, I'll try my best to help out!


Next blog shall feature my one single most favorite activity in HK and I'll be posting up a pic of me doing it! eh....sounds a bit wrong...oh, well...


Till then! OUT!


AKK. :)

This is not a GAME!!!

hi all!


Man, Have I got something for you ladies out there! Yup!!! only ladies!!! unless you are gay, then this post is for you too!!!

This is not a game! in fact, it is MORE than a GAME!!!! I've since spend the last 1 hour trying to get those heavenly perky lips to melt the screen!!! perhaps I'm late and you have all seen it, but hell, have joy must share hor?!!! so I share!!!

there's this competition to make this really handsome man in an online website to kiss you!!!! ain't it fantastic?!! U have to try it out!!!! argghh!!! guys also!!! no kidding, he is too cute and it's too funny!

before you Click on this link, pls be reminded that since it's just a program, you may not need a real sentence to get a response out of him.

for s start,

you may try the following words, which i have used, and enjoy the effects.

check out the various reactions I have gotten him to do

'kiss' or 'smooch'

'handsome' 'gorgeous' and 'eyes'.

'flowers'

'beer'.

'love' and 'sex' can induce different responses too. pls also try 'gay'.

best reaction so far: 'strip' or 'topshop' and 'pants' and 'dance'

yes yes, i believe you guys knew what i asked him to do.....


enjoy! and if there's any more different reactions, pls tell me!!! and for the person who succeeded in making him kiss you, pls tell too! email me if you dun want others to find out! heheehhe......



out!!

AKK
just came back from HK, perhaps a post on all the stuff I bought? till next time then!!!

Chronicles of A vol 8.: I asked.

hi all!

(oops about the punctuation! Too lazy to shift and too lazy to type on word doc.)

I decided to find out anyways. I figured if he didn't want to say anything about it, I'll probably have to really really start worrying. And since I have this lamentable habit to stick my head in the sand and hide, if I don't do it now, I'd have just remember that I have never asked him and have this little black hole of discontent that will manifest Ito inferiority complex like many years down the road.

Better to have it over and done with than to chew the freaking thing like cud in my four stomachs.


incidentally, I have not been online thru'out the whole week, hence I have not been able to reply to all your comments. I thank you all for the lovely advice. I particularly agree with jayaxe that a marriage cert isn't a absolute road to fidelity, which is why there is always a sense of guardedness about one's partner. Let's face it, it's really not him I worry about, it's the other girls around him that worry me. I think any woman who is decently self-conscious and has a slightly frayed sense of self-worth will agree to it.


but by the time I finished writing the previous entry and have some time to think, I worry less and less about that picture. In fact, when he came back around, I was even ready to let it go. afterall, it's a male thing to have some pin-ups somewhere. And cars are his favorite non-living object. Have a pretty gal draped over it is probably a bonus of sorts.


in any case, it was a fairly easy topic to broach, thankfully. All I have to do was just pop into his room while he was around and manuvereredrederd(when do I stop?) his head to the pile of pictures which he still left very openly on the table (I actually gave him time to realize the pile and see if he went into a flurry to hide them).


AKK: hello! What are these?

So much for tact and subtlety, sorry Zhebin, I cannot reach zhebinism enlightenment liao).

A: eh? What what? Oh , these? pics I took down from the office.


He was completely clueless to me singling out the 2 particular pics.


AKK: I mean these 2 lah. Who's she? Quite chio ah.


Never show fear! Pretend to like the pic as well as he, although you are dying to claw that woman's eyes out for looking so perfect. Admire it for her its worth. it may be the only think she's good at.


A: Oh! Those! Last year's carshow. She asked me to take her pic.


AKK: what? She asked you? Confirm got lots of ppl taking her pic what, why she single you out?

I considered cutting out a her outline in red paper....


A: oh yah, of cos got a lot of ppl taking. But she asked me to take them.


My ah-mah's red wooden clogs will be wonderful in easing out all those creases on the paper....


AKK: Why?


A: cos she said she will not see any of those pics they took of her unless she asks, so she asked me, among some of them. She gave me her email so I can send them.


A couple of joss-sticks to burn spot where her Bambi eyes are....


AKK: hmmm....And you find it very normal? Her asking you, among all those hum-sup old perverts/lechers she could have asked to get the pics from? In any case, why you put the pics up in the office?



A: *suddenly looking alert and he peered closer at me* AAAyyyyyYYYyy??!!! You JEALOUS AH??!!


Maybe a cut-out of him also....


AKK: No I wasn't! I just think it's a tacky pick-up line. U mean u never thought she was trying to hook up with u meh?


A: yes, you are! And yes ah, I know she's trying to pick me up.


AKK: well, you could have said NO lor.


A: well, it's not everyday got chiobu want to pick me up lah. Anyway, you can tell from her looks that she probably has never been rejected outright before. scarly she turn into monster if I said sorry, I dun wan to take her pic or get her email add, then how? If got hansem boy tried to pick you up, u'd be flattered also mah.



AKK: *intrigued despite herself* so did you talk to her? How was she like?



A: Empty.



AKK: You are saying that to make me feel better.


A: No, really. She didn't know nuts about the car she was posing for.
And that summed up A's overall love for cars and all things cars....



upon further interrogation careful detecting, the office had a large noticeboard 'supposed to be filled with event pics' but had been sorely maltreated by the 80% male cohorts in the workplace. On top of pictures of company dinners and state affairs evident from his pile, there were also some 'eye-candy' contributions apart from his carshow gal.


AKK: so why did you have to take all the pics back?



A: Someone tacked a Sports Illustrated Calendar and pissed the boss. He took it down and asked us to revamp the board to a more suitable content.


I knew what that means....


AKK: Hypocrite!


A: ya lor, my fren hasn't recovered from having his calendar 'confiscated'.
So, once again, a much-ado-about-nothing.



I figured next time just ask liao, no need to pretend. Although we all like to project the worse case scenario, but seriously, there are a hundred and one reasons more that can perfectly answer that burning question.


Now, I just wish there was a Chocolate Show with lots of male models immersed in chocolate fountains and draped over chocolate sculptures.


out!!

AKK:)

Chronicles of A vol. 7: hmmm.....

Hi all!

you know that when ppl get maried, we are all supposed to be trusting of one another. i think trusting A is all well and good, if only my own inferiority can catch up with his multitude of chio, rich frens ala AC days.

so can i ask if i should even open my mouth about that batch of photos strewn over this desk? 2 of which showed this gal leaning against a car at a carshow.

why being worried is a given:

1) she is chio.
2) she is slim (and has ab muscles like what i used to have).-_____-
3) she is fair with a beautifully made up face and flawless skin.
4) she is one of the showgals at the car show and her bod is better than mine and she's not wearing much to cover it up.
5) there's double-sided tape behind the pic. it's a no brainer to confirm that it had been displayed somewhere till now.
6) the rest are office pics with colleagues and bunches of guys and gals. and there ain't no pics of me.

why i shouldn't worry:

1) it was my name on the piece of marriage cert.
2) he is not stupid. he would have hid it if it was important. or perhaps by reverse psychology, he didn't think he was doing anything wrong.
3) my pic is on his handphone screensaver and wallpaper and he sees me almost everyday.
3) And the lousiest of all reasons and yet which is the basic backbone of the marriage union (ie. based on pure trust that no one is lying and which can never be scientifically proven)-he said he loves me.


so after i've weighed the pros and cons, it's not a wonder to conclude:




---------------I'm worried-------------------





i have been known to be too scientific and years of reading journals of men being naturally polygamous is not helping me win this tussle for level-headedness. i hate that i should be distrustful, but i also think it's my survival instinct kicking in. which woman can't help but feel inadequate when faced with a man's sometimes seemingly callous actions (ie. he should have put them pics away knowing i'm pretty inferior as a person)?



Someone pls offer some opinions/explanations. especially if u are a guy. OTOH, can the gals tell me what u'd do in such a situation? should i ask him about it? it's hardly rifling thru his drawers. heck, they were lying on his desk fit for any eyes walking past his room.

thanks! Will keep updated.

out!


akk. :)

Chronicles of A vol. I-lost-count : Jogging

Hi all!



It was those once-in-a-blue-moon efforts to slim down that I decided to go jogging one day after work. Just so that the sun has still not set, I snuck out 1 hour ahead of the official teng-chu time and made it home with an hour of daylight left to spare. Oh ya, I had to do a little mission-impossible stunts as I was trying to walk out of the office in full view of everyone without letting them know I’m walking out in full view of everyone.


I just wore the same beige colour as the wall and dragged my beige sweater over my hair and arms and stood behind the office’s only flowerpot of fake plant that was slowly dying. So when the whole office realise the flowerpot had walked to the door, I was sprinting in pixie steps to freedom. At one point in time, just when the lift door opened, I heard footsteps downstairs. Since no one in their right mind is going to climb any form of stairs when the lift is available, I jump out of the lift before it snapped shut, only to let it open 1 floor below to admit all those lazy bums. Such Pigs, make me huff one flight down.

There a few slamming-flat-against-the-wall moments when I hear those expensive click-click of leather shoes (if you hear the flap flap of $2 flip-flops, it’s one of us), but I managed to escape unscathed.

I got home only to find A was around too, so he we decided to jog together, after he convinced me that he will not

1) Laugh hilariously at my jogging style. i.e Run like a gu-niang with limp wrists whose afraid of stepping on grass. Watch me do a hop-scotch at the garden path.

2) Talk to me during the jog, because I will automatically turn to the sound of a voice and hence, crash and burn.

3) Run too far ahead and leave me smelling his sweat and eating his dust.

4) Run too slow and let his vision be eclipsed by the size of my monstrous butt. This is for his safety.

5) Roll his eyes and get pissed if I have to stop and start rescuing snails from their misguided race across the path to the other side.

6) Make any comments about my state at the end of the run, the sweat, the water dripping from all pores and orifices, the shaking limbs and the siao-lang-keng-hairstyle.


I was as equally amused to see he is handling my demands as I was horrified to find that he is quite determined to jog with me. I have never let anyone watch me jog because they have their own eyes to care about. It’d be so irresponsible to make them pop watching me trundle alongside them like a gay elephant.


Just as we were about to set off with 30mins of light left to spare, his handphone rang. I was beside myself with relief until he motioned that it’ll take only 1 minute and I should wait for him.


So I waited and waited till the sun had set, the moon was up and my mum is screaming at us to eat dinner…..


There was a snap when he closed his phone and announced, ‘let’s go!’


I didn’t have the heart to tell his enthusiastic face that I’m slightly night-blind.


So after we made our way there, he gently placed me a bit further away from him (because I kept bumping him) and we started jogging. I had my ears plugged with pumping songs to distract me from the pain in my chest and thighs (and arms and feets and...). When you are fat, you not only run against your own weight, but also against air current and friction of those free swinging weights called saddlebags, love handles and underarm flab. Imagine running in near dark without proper vision and ears blocked by headphones. I felt like I was transported to a place where my pounding feet don’t belong to me and the floor beneath them was riddled with dark shapes and holes.


So it wasn’t long before something happened.


Seeing the floor come up to meet me was the easy bit. At the moment when you just had to close your eyes to silently scream along with Mariah Carey’s Fantasy Baby …’sweet sweet fantasy baby, when I close my eyes, you come and you taakkkeee meeee….OOOhhhhh oooHHHhoooohhAAAaahhhhrrGGGGHHHHHhh…’, and the next moment, you feet gets caught in a strip of grass posing as a darker shade of concrete flooring, the body slowly crashes headlong into a pinwheel of limbs and flab and shoes while the face says ‘hi’ to the tarmac.


That’s not the end. In fact, the fall was like any fall that I usually fall-----trip, legs crossed, tumble, feet in air, somersault and grand finale, face in mud.


It was the noise level. Halfway panting through the whole bloody course, I was already wheezing and heaving with every step. A tried his best but he was dying for at least a speed faster than the strolling pram ambling along the opposite side, so we subsisted into a jogging pace that made him somewhat 3 steps ahead of me.


Which made him unable to see me when I fell.


But he certainly heard me.


‘Whoops…Ow!...Ooh!....
...Ouch!....Oof!......
....Eek!..........Woof!........AAaarrrgghhhhhh!!!!!!’



When A turned around, he found me half plastered across the path, playing dead. After a few more whimpers, I managed to ease myself up slowly with a brave, half-worried smile of reassurance that would have won me Grammys.


While he gently got me up and brush me down, he said,

‘You OK?’


‘Yea, yea…..’ Cue brave smile.


‘Sure?’ he replied.


‘yes, I think so.’ Cue slight frown, braver smile.


‘OK.’ He relaxed.


Then he piped up, ‘Only you were screaming like a banshee just now; I thought you broke something.’


‘eh…afraid you won’t hear mah.’



‘What?’


‘Scared u cannot hear mah!’


‘You fall, I’ll hear one what.’


‘Aiyah….,’ and I started on a long discourse in the middle of the garden path. ‘Some people fall, can make body-hit-floor kind of noise—like piak piak noises.’ And I clapped my hands together to prove the point.


‘Skinny people make bone-hit-floor noises—like kok kok noises. Me, I Marshmallow Man. I fall, no noise.’


By now, I can see his eyes are looking from side to side, but I was on a roll and warming up.


‘Er dear…’


‘So so must signal to you mah. Garden here so many smooching couples. So lak-sey if I not only fall down in front of them, and they see my partner happy-happy disappear round the bend mah.’


‘Er…’


‘So, when the ground fly up to my face, I tell myself, must make sure A hears!’


‘Okok!’ and with that, he quickly reach around my neck and pluck out my earphones.


My screaming Linkin Park track is suddenly replaced by a deafening silence. I was made aware of all the ‘smooching couples’ turning our way, even the ones from 4 benches off.



Even the crickets were silent.


A then held my hand and slowly led me, traumatised, dumb and limping, through the long pathway back home. Even through my night-blindness, I can see some wide white grins floating past my side. Before long, we were walking faster until we rounded the corner, whereby A burst out laughing and laughing until I hoped he burst his spleen.



‘I think ….*gasp* *gasp*… we should…… muahahaha……jog together more often....muahahah....’



Choujidan……if I ever doubt his sincerity in hitching me, it's gone now. While I'm sure there could be so many girls who could be his Muse, I'm his one-and-only Comedy Central.



Out!


AKK

Rabbit Parents

hi all!


I know that Zhebin has broached this subject before but I am pissed. Really really pissed.

Pls don’t have kids if you
1) Just like the sex ie. You cant wait for the condom to be worn before you got down to business.
2) Are Too young ie. You are still beholden to a Principal who sent you for detention for dying your hair.
3) Are Poor ie. You live off your parents and what you make can only feed you alone or less. Worse, you are unemployed and have sex with your gf/bf to pass the time.
4) Are seeing a married man.
5) Aren’t prepared. And this counts in all those who are pro-life ie, die die also don’t abort the child, must keep it becos of religion, moral, ethics etc.
6) Are violent. Having a kid won’t make a man start thinking pink elephants and tune down his anger, ok? Having a kid also won’t solve your depression in a marriage going downhill OR make him come back. If you can think like that, you’ll need to see a counselor. You are obviously more disturbed than you think.

You know why I’m suddenly talking about this? Becos of the Saturday edition of the Straits Times. The whole day started innocently enough with lil’ sick me watching Jimmy Neutron and Spongebob on TV, then bad choice, I had to pick up the papers and start reading the back issues.

Pages and pages of kids being introduced. Their background, their poverty, the lack of space in the house, the lack of privacy, the lack of education, the lack of parental guidance, the lack of love, the lack of food.

I can go on forever: the lack of a table to eat and do homework, the lack of a quiet environment, the lack of communication, the lack of everything that a child should be provided with.

Perhaps as you are reading this, you may think that I’m being too much. You may think that while some kids do have less, they are being brought up to understand that money is very important. If you are thinking like this, then pls go back and read the papers, I have no time for you.

The thing that really gets me furious, that really got me mad, was the recurring action the kids make in every one of these articles:

They load themselves with lots of tap water to tamp down their hunger pangs. During recess, during dinner, when they sleep.

Pls tell me this isn’t right, that no one should have to do this.

Because I’ve done it. And stupidly I did it because there were chocolate chip cookies in the bloody fridge but I didn’t want to brush my teeth again while preparing for bed. So I drank water. I remembered how the water bloated me and rolled all over the tummy and made me toss and turn in bed. i subsisted like this for a few yrs, when somehow at around 1030, my stomach will start to rumble.

And while the thought of putting anything in my mouth makes me faintly nauseous after all the water, it doesn’t stop the hunger and the feeling of emptiness. I hated that feeling and reading all these articles brought these feelings back to me. To know that these kids had to do it, not by choice but by necessity and having to do it every single meal-time irks me.

I hate feeling upset over social-economics, I hate feeling angry over stupidity. Because why these kids have to be read about in the news is due to their parents’ stupidity.

Example no. 1 and this is not the exact one taken from the newspaper, it is certainly like a summary of most the stories combined:

Mum marries dad and have 3 kids. Mum divorces cos dad beats her. Mum works to bring those kids up. Up till here, I was thinking, fine, wow! Brave woman! Then…mum meets another guy. Guy becomes step-dad. Then mum and step-dad have ANOTHER 2 kids. Now five kids squashed in small flat. Mum stops working to look after kids. Then step-dad loses job. Becomes violent. A family of seven squished in a small flat filled with anger matches and fights.

Example no 2:

Mum married Married man and had 4 kids. Married man went back to his country to his own kids and wife. Mum works as menial labour to bring them up. Met another guy, married him and had a MORE kids. Step-dad became abusive and they divorced. Last count: 6 kids,1 parent and no money.

Example no. 3:

Parents hold proper jobs like sale personnel and admin. Have 3 kids, but all foist onto the grandma. Every month, both parents rather spend on buying new handphones, pay for their extravagant phone bills, get gadgets and MP3 players and CDs and watch movies, rather than pay for the babies, diapers, milk powder, clothes and their education. Get subsidies from the gov’t.


After reading about these articles, I have come to a few conclusions and I shall be nasty about it:

These parents are uneducated. I don’t mean education as in go to school and get your Ns and Os and As paper. I mean education as in condoms, contraceptives and the simple mind exercise of actually bringing yourself to think a bit further than your current situation. To them, life is a tunnel-vision, they cannot see the horizion, they only see 1 pinprick of light. They don’t plan what to do and how to do and where to go, they just go with the flow, just drift along. Spend now and heck the future. Oh dear, I’m pregnant. Again. Let me cum in you, we won’t be so suey. Mum, I love him and I want to marry him. In any case, there’s always divorce.


These parents don’t love their kids, they love having them, but they don’t love them. If you love your kids, u’d want the best for them, at the expense of your own happiness, yes? Then why is this kid having to drink tap water just to fill his tummy and yet watch you balloon every single year to give him a brother or a sister who will only fight for his food and make him drink more water so he can give up his share? Why must there be so many kids???!!! Most couple I know stop at 2 or 3 and they are already strapped for cash and these people earn 2-5 times more already, so why doesn’t the mums from these examples just stop producing? They are like, like, rabbits!!! They can’t stop rearing!


Don’t give some crap about the joy of motherhood, the look of these cute babies when they were young.


Pls see that each and every one of these children are not like pets, they are not bunnies! They have a life span of 60 and above and are entitled to at least have 3 square meals, a proper education, clothes on their back until 18, and this is only the logistics. How about the emotional needs? To at least let them have something to be proud of? To pick up their heads? A form of self-respect? Like ‘I may not have books, but my mum stopped her handphone subscription just so that we have the money to buy newspapers everyday/every other day/every weekend.’ In case you don’t know, a monthly subscription of the Straits Time/Lianhe zaobao/ hand delivered to your home at 7am in the morning is $23/month, less if you just buy off the stands everyday. Or ‘I don’t have $2 for pokemon cards, but I’ve got $2 for recess.’ Rather than, ‘ay, buddy, you have money to spare, my dad used the last dollar to buy toto.’


if you can't provide for them, then DON'T!


Finally, I’m going to say something really bad right now. It’s bad because it’s my honest-to-goodness opinion and because nobody likes to be told the obvious. If nothing new is done and no effort is made, then poverty literally begets poverty. Poor people birth more kids than they can handle. This is absolutely inherent in all the examples in the newspaper and in this entry, baring the one example where poverty is a result of a fatal accident or illness of the parent.


If one is poor and one has just 1 or 2 kids, then things would really be less taxing, won’t it? Compared to 4-6 kids? In fact, another article in the Times has another example like this: Dad and mum have 1 kid. Combine income, after CPF, after house loan, after ultilities, household expenses etc etc, enough to get by. Then couple wants to have another kid. Now got two kids. Dad tells mum to stop work and rest. Income cut by one-third and family member increase by one-third. That's half the pay for per member of the family.

At this point, things would have gotten worse (I truly believe) because this couple wanted to have FIVE kids, but heng heng, they signed up for this Home Ownership Scheme where, in order to enjoy $50,000 off their HDB loan, they must agree to stop after 2 kids. In fact, it is legally binding only if the mother went for ligation to tie herself up.

Can you not see what I saw? The gov’t itself believe that poverty is perpetuated by breeding more than one can care for and that poverty itself, breeds more than it should. The whole deal is in 2 parts. Why does the gov’t give this scheme to low-income groups and not to high-income groups? Why ask us to have more kids and give more babies and still have this scheme to stop low-income groups from having more? Why not tell high-income couples to stop at 2?

Because low income couples tend towards birthing more babies and more babies by low-income people increases the poverty line and create more poverty-stricken adults.

If you still want to argue, then think 3rd world countries versus Japan and Europe.

Everyone loves to hide behind words like ‘stereotyping’ and point accusing fingers, saying that not all examples are like these and that there are others who have successfully emerged as winners through poverty and hardship. Of cos there’s always a hero in every category. Of cos there is always the winner in all these examples.


But I am talking, not about them, but about the normal, the majority, the 99.99% of the rest of those water-imbibing kids. I am talking about the kids who need help, who cannot but feel terrible about themselves, whose tummies rumble even when it’s packed with water! I am thinking for them!


So never never ever ever have kids when you are poor! only have kids when you are truly prepared! Prepared meaning a proper shelter, a nest of savings wholly for the child, insurance and RESPONSIBILITY. Don't let your kids be bunnies!



argghhhhhh!!!!!!!


out!
AKK

24 weird things about me?

hi all!


tagged by Ollie on this:

Actually I never think much at all thought about myself so much, nor have 24 weird thing that bears writing on paper. I do in fact, have weirder frens though.



1. I hit 55kg when I was just in pri 4 and only 1m tall, bullies used to play dodgeball using with me to squish smaller and lighter kids.

2. I was a self-serving bitch in primary till sec 2 school who didn’t have any frens. I am the original kiasu/kiam-pah kid featured in i-not-stupid. I believed that jack neo used me as his muse.

3. I use to read Shakespeare for leisure. Yes, I am also a smart-ass then. My all-time-favourite is ‘taming of the shrew’.

4. I use to listen to celtic music….like riverdance…and actually watched Yanni’s concert at the acropolis on TV and cried.

5. I have bigger thigh circumference than my own hubby. As much as I want to believe it is true, he does not have chicken claws for legs…

6. I look like a boy so much that until I was in sec 1, I routinely used the men’s toilet whenever the female ones are too crowded. That occurred until even my dad got uncomfortable that I would spring up behind him and make him lose concentration that he ordered me never to appear in a male toilet hence.

7. when I grew my hair longer and looked a bit more on the right side of the gender race, the HK customs refused to let me pass after seeing the old pic in the passport and asked me why have I got my brother’s passport in my hands. I was so embarrassed and held up that I told him to please note the moles on my face and check they have the same orientation as the passport photo. He scolded me and ordered me to change my pic when I get back.

8. I am really dirty-minded. The first thing upon getting internet was to check on how to get pron undetected.

9. I am really dirty-minded. The first thing upon knowing about an online book company that caters to SG was to check if they have erotica.

10. I am really dirty-minded and like all dirty-minded beings, I’m the last to really know what I’m missing. In fact, although I tried to find pron on the internet, I still didn’t know about how sex was done until I saw the educational video in sec 2.

11. When I found out about it, I screamed.

12. Whenever I cut my nails, I’ll always always forget to cut my right index fingernail until I have put the cutter away and washed my hands.

13. I was a da nai ma puo-ba in JC, that in itself is not a weird thing, it’s the not-knowing-wat-happened-since that is.

14. I had successfully lost weight through 2 different diets last time and am proud of it. One was the milk diet, where u substitute all your liquid intake into low-fat/hi-cal milk and drink around 4-6 glasses of it everyday. Eat normally still, mind you.-2 weeks-->2 kg. but then, it maybe because I’m lactose-intolerant. The other is the water diet, you literally drink at least 2 liters of water everyday, no change to diet, 3 weeks--> 2 kg. but since I’ve never liked milk nor water…I stopped already. But it worked!

15. I am admittedly most enamoured of Terry Prachett and his books. I still have yet to get my ultimate wedding present of all his 28 (and counting) titles in sealed, mint condition. I have read all of his books at least twice, if not 5-6 times.

16. I don’t have 24 weird things about myself.

17. Oh yes, this is one of my most boring entries, but that’s not weird either.

Does anyone wanna contribute to more weird things abt me? Esp from frens? Ahem….



Out,
Akk (sick like Zhebin…)

ps Jaschoc, I have the entry for the meme but i don't have the laptop with the doc. so i do this first. paiseh.






‘What good is a god who gives you everything you want?’

YOU HAVE ME THERE.

‘It’s the hope that important. Big part of belief, hope. Give people jam today and they’ll just sit and eat it. Jam tomorrow, now- that’ll keep them going forever.’

-Albert, Death’s manservant, explaining the concept of humanity to his boss in Hogfather, Terry Prachett.

The Green Comer *koff*.

Hi all!


You know you are in big trouble when at least 3 of your blog entries are related to your handphone. So far hor, the adventures I’ve had with my Motorola L6 have been in the following sequence:

1) Choosing between a damn chio chio Nokia or a really san-por L6. It was the fight between being superficial (nokia for 300++) and being miserly (L6 for 8). I guess the decision was easy. I rather be an ugly miser with loads of monies than a super-chio spendthrift spending my own money….of cos if there’s other ppl’s money to spend, then I might not have written so much about my handphone caper in here….*long suffering sigh*


2) Letting my san-por L6 do a 6-storey bungee jump without bungee. Enuff said, the heart can only take so much.


3) Having to realize that the fricking minute I took an itsy step into the fricking office, my handphone now become ‘emergency calls only’. Because of chui-kueh (now sadly defunct, not him, the blog), I am not allowed to swear here, although I actually think he already knows all the 10,000 swearwords in various dialects and foreign language and even the extra 300 from ancient texts hidden buried under the fallen nose of the sphinx, so I shall say mother-choujidan-ing jidan-er, or fricking fricker or extra-chou-jidan-ing jidan-er or even chou-fricking-fricker-jidan-ing-jidan-er.

I believe I am in a position here to make all handphone owners cradle their phones and kiss the CustomerServiceOfficers regardless of all the bad blood you’ve spurted over anything remotely connected to your communication device and that is this:


At the very least, if I
- kena get my cellulite pinched by the photocopier which I’m illegally sitting on with to find out my plunking surface area. (I find that doing it without pants will give a smaller surface. Really.)


- kena get my hand stuck in the printer while trying to steal change the print cartridge.


- Kena face burnt and cut by the PC screen when the moniter blew up due to opening too many windows of hot scalding pron EXCEL spreadsheet.


I can still call 999, 911, 995 on my handphone and let the Home Team crowbar my butt off the feeder (with gloves for their protection.); unravel my ribboned hand (multi-coloured) from the rollers; remove the shrapnel from my pimply face (or leaving it as an improvement. Rubber gloves. Thickness 3 mm.)


HOWEVER, and this is where u rejoice that such a thing should happen to me so that it will not happen to you, thanks to statistical probability, is that while all corners lets me call Home Team for pranks during break time, 1 eerie spot in the room not only has no ‘emergency calls only’, it has ‘no service’ half the time and ‘no sim card detected’ the other half.


Now imagine that spot (jidan jidan jidan!) to be my cubicle.


Yea……u can all French kiss your friendly phones and the walls of your office in deep appreciation that they are holding hands of reception.


So now I am currently still holding on to a skinny, post-mortem, post-trauma handphone, sitting alone in the Bermuda Triangle right under the nose of the green umbrella.

And so the entry today is about the coming of the green man (hur hur). To my delight, an urban myth has been answered during his coming (hur hur hur). I mean, I never really seriously asked if all employees of the orange/red/green companies have to have a orange/red/green subscription for their HPs respectively, but its actually true. All green ones subscribes to green, red to red and so on.

So imagine again that I called the green company who sent a green man to come (hur-okok stop) and get some surveying done to find out if there’s really some missing patches of green. He was 15 min late in coming (snigger) and when he found me, told me he had being using that 15 min trying to find out where I was.

With his green phone.

I didn’t even have to explain anything and he already found the cold lonely spot I’d been sitting for months. In any case, I wasn’t mentally capable stringing any words together after realizing I am looking at the cutest guy on the block at that point in time (a very easy feat actually).

‘Ma’am, I’m now going to find 5 more spots of non-activity, so that we are able to contact the higher powers to start acting. You know where I’m coming from?’

I shifted my eyes downwards before realizing it’s only English and hastily skittled them up and

‘Yes yes, *koff* I know. Would you like me to come with you?’

Oh Gods. Behind my placid eyes, the angel in me was on his knees begging that I’m hopefully the only gutter-brain in the office, if not the world, while the rest of me was trying to make me break out in chuckles. While the innuendo flew pass his head (heng ah!) into the horizon, the eventual constipated look must have warned him some.

‘I’ll be fine doing it alone.’

‘*koff* OK then. Enjoy yourself. *koff koff*’


With a wierd look, he left me stuck in a coughing fit.

Suffice to say, it was all too easy to find 5 spots of non-activity in the whole area, my own spot being the worse. The green man himself look slightly sheepish and kept saying he himself also very paiseh over this very valid obvious hole on the canvas of the umbrella corporation. He had finished his surveying in 10mins flat and didn’t need any of his 007 tools from his impressive suitcase.


Nah, he just walked around the whole room and looked at his phone.

3 days later, I got a call from them saying that the ‘building has rejected their enhancement proposal’.


That, if you aren’t aware, is the euphemism ‘we offered to correct the problem but your company refused to pay.’


So…..I am back to square 1.


Jidan jidan jidan….


Thank goodness I’m leaving this horrible place soon.


PS. For the record, the green customer service is really good actually. At least they entertained me all the way and are unfailingly polite while I ranted and raved and cried and simpered. The problem isn’t exactly with them. Guess it takes 2 hands to clap.

It's official! I'm moving...

...to a new job!


Because of the following reason:

I'm a ghost in there. my mail still gets shuttled to Lost and Found cos they still don't know i exists. I don't get welfare emails sent to me becos of the same reason. for the longest time, I got my salary by approaching Finance for written cheques cos my staff ID isn't ready. I got no immediate employer whom to report to or be taken care of. I'm constantly fighting my own battles to get a measly increment promised to me and HR refuses to talk to me (via phone or email!!!). Worse, the susperiors listens with righteous indignance to my predicament, and instead of helping, say, 'we are behind you! go Fight!' Shall I just say that they are the ones who agreed to increase my pay in the 1st place? my contract is a measly 1 year and when they renewed it, it's only for another year and it's exactly the same as before. Hello, I'm sorry, but I need to point out, wtf I study so fricking much for if it wasn't to get more monies? I'm fine if I get employed on a low deal because I'm fresh entry, but at the very least, pls recog my further studies and my actual conferrment when I've recieved it on my new contract.


And all of them say, 'well, if you aren't happy with the conditions, then don't renew your contract.'

Oh yah, what arrogance.

And so I didn't.

so when 1 of the more clueles superiors knew about it, the following conversation occured:

'excuse me? you are leaving? why didn't you tell me? how do i care whether you gave a 9 week notice, what are we doing to do when u just hightail off like that? Yes, i know you didn't resign, you just decided not to renew, but you never told me your contract only 1 year! you could have said and I would have made it a 2 year contract for you, no big deal!'

incidentally, the one who said that? he was the guy who decided to MIA from the panel of interviewers during my application for said job. during then interview, I asked for a 2 year contract and they say they coudn't. so how about giving you an increment come the new contract? then u'll promise verbally to stay for 2 years. so no increment? no verbal promise of 2 years. sorry. in any case, it's a blessing in disguise the contract only 1 year, so they cannot bug me for anything, cos I did not tender an resignation at all. heng ah....

so now, I'm off to greener pastures in a few month's time.


hur hur hur....one up ur ass, man.

But of cos, not burning my bridges....I shall miss my colleagues here, whom have been actively keeping my precious secret of sourcing for another job from the superiors. I know if I leave, they'll be doing all the extra work, but they still encourage me anyway.

I am extremely blessed.


Thanks you guys for not hating me, but a promise is a promise is a promise. no increment? no stay.


Out,
akk

Treasure of the world

Warning: Long entry. Proceed at risk.

Once upon a time, there lived a King in a faraway kingdom. He was a fighter, this king. Everything in his life, he fought and won them. He waged battles to increase his land and his coffers until his kingdom was the biggest and the richest among all others.

The King was so much a fighter that he could never be still. When he wasn’t trying to expand his lands, he went on quests to search for all the oldest and beautiful artifacts to add to his mounting collection of war trophies. At the same time, his people loved and respected him for the fairness he dealt in all things and for his strength and thus they made good the land that he won for them.

And then there was thus more money crinkling in the coffers and more treasures, gems and diamonds in the castle keep. He had the rarest old silks by the bale which ancient production techniques were long lost. He owned the largest ruby in the world, taken from the eye of the Snake God in its temple filled with, till now, manic followers. He slept on pillows filled with the feathers of phoenixes died and reborn.

The king, it was touted, was the owner of all the treasures in the world.

But the King was not happy (of cos, I think you figured). He always felt he needed and wanted more. In the middle of acquiring country A, he was planning a hostile take-over in country B. He went out of his way to acquire all the treasures in the World, but he’d only feel that minute of intense joy when the last enemy threw down his weapon or when he held an exquisite work of art.


One minute, and the fleeting excitement will leave him hungry for another conquest.


When the King finally conquered the last state in the whole world and made it his, he left his men happy and contented that their final ordeal is behind them and went alone to rocky cliffs. On the needle shores of his newest conquest, he fell to his knees and wept in deep sorrow.


Your Highness….


Startled he wiped his eyes quickly and looked around.


Your Highness….


He was sure it was the wind echoing his name.


Why do you weep so, whispered the Wind.


The king felt small in the presence of the wind, which can be as gentle as a breeze or as terrible as a hurricane. He felt compelled to answer the omnipotent entity.



‘I am not content. I have everything I could possibly desire but I desire none.’ The King confessed in a low voice.



You seek but you see nothing, said the Wind. You fought your wars without Just cause. Did you think that this world was made for you to possess?



‘It must be so because I have united all lands under me, I possess all there is!’ The King was angry. He felt he had not been taken seriously.


‘The world is mine. Everything you see, it is mine. All the treasures in the world, Mine!’


Do you now, laughed the wind. And suddenly a large gale whipped and crashed the waves against the cliff where the king stood. The King swung his sword this way and that, but of cos, it did not work.

How about, challenged the wind, the treasure of the World?

‘What?’

I bet you don’t have that, laughed the wind again, causing small pebbles to blow into the king’s face.

‘What is this treasure of the World? I have never heard of it.’


You’ll not know it till you find it, your Highness. And once you find it, you’ll be happy.


Hope tinged the King words. ‘You have a cure for my sorrow?’



Never will you want nor desire more, it will complete you.

Thus said, the wind stopped blowing and the sea grew dead calm. It was gone as quietly as it came.



And the king, full of hope that he can be happy, went back and tidied up his states. Once he had appointed all his ministers and assigned all his duties and kissed all his wives, he disappeared to set off on a journey for this mysterious treasure of the World.



It was to be the beginning of a decade search.



The king back-tracked and retraced his steps. Traveling alone, he journeyed to all those lands he had fought and won. Everywhere he went, he found new things to see, smell, hear, touch and taste. Once he saw these conquests as, well, conquests, but gradually he begins to discover that the world was so much more than something to be gained, won, and then tamed.



Some places (like X, Y and Z) were so foreign that it did not care about who was governing them, much less notice a change occurring in the monarchy. There were some places where the news took years to reach and the people who lived there thought nothing of politics and war. In one, only the four seasons and the endless fields of vineyards and small red or white grapes kept the peoples’ interest. In another, only the monsoons and the endless fields of saplings in knee-deep mud and the pureness of husked rice occupied their attention. In yet another, only the half-year of sunshine and the endless cold icebergs and the trawl of silver-scaled fishes filled up their lives.



He was tolerated as a ‘nice young man’ in these parts, although it was generally agreed laughingly that he was a complete dullard on everything.



He had asked them about the Treasure of the World (with a capital T? You sure?), but seriously, and they told him so, if there is such a treasure call that, they’d have changed its name immediately. But while they could offer no help as to the real honest-to-goodness so called Treasure of the World (and here, they’ll roll their eyes), they did, however, offered their opinion what they thought is The treasure and welcome the strange man with the funny accent to it.



‘Have a drink?’ asked the X-ians.
‘Have a bowl?’ asked the Y-ians.
‘Have a bite?’ asked the Z-ians.



And while the King would always say, ‘I need to get going; I need to find my treasure.’ Nevertheless, he would always stay for a little while longer just because.



Many a time does a recurrent thought intrudes on the King: that there were so many different beings in the whole world, and they all behaved and thought differently. yet they bleed like him, fall sick like him and given the choice, walked on 2 legs and sleep lying down. A mirror of himself multiplied a gazillion-fold and with each copy occurs within itself an mismatch, a change, a difference. The King was astounded and learnt new things everyday, the type of grapes grown, the name of different grains, the difference between 2 identical fishes. But most of all, he learned to appreciate. And relax.

So the quest became longer and longer. The Treasure of the World seemed less of an enticement with each year. Like an excuse, he used it to open up their hearts to him (after rolling their eyes at the name). It was the same every time, he’d ask them and they tell him it’s a terrible name (terrible terrible!), before proceeding to announce what they think it should be and introduce it gladly.



And so in a blink of an eyelid, 10 years had gone by. The King had since traveled to all his kingdoms but realized he had barely scratched the surface. During then, there were several manhunts to look for him, but the drawings of him, oh how he guffawed! All wore a crown and a set of chainmail. It is as if the royal painter, who had known every single curve and precious stones on his circlet of gold and velvet and had recognized every dip and dent of the steel chink of his chain, had had a sudden attack of amnesia trying to recall the king’s face. It is as if the essence of himself had been built under his crown and armour and that once they were exchanged for peasant clothes, he had morphed into somebody else, the kingliness in him that everyone recognised had been borne off by his appearance.



One day, the king once again found himself at the edge of a cliff over a rollicking sea, admiring the horizon of sunrise. Sometime during the recent months, he’d heard that the kingdom had finally declared him dead and stopped all searches. His eldest son would be taking over the running of the land and under the well-meaning hands of his ministers, would be groomed as the next king.


Which is all very well, thought the ex-King, but suffered a twinge of homesickness at that thought.


Hence he faced the sea, knowing this is where the wind was most easily spotted.


Cupping his hands, he hollered, ‘I have been to the 4 corners of the world and back but I have not found this Treasure of the World you have spoken of. No one knows what it is and everyone thinks it’s something else.’


‘My desire to possess it drove me, but although I still do not possess it, I now desire it not.’


The wind did not comment but the ex-King felt the breeze picked up.


‘You have said that having it would complete me. But I now feel complete without it.’


A hollowness in his ears greeted him, but the wind remained silent.


‘You said it would cure my sorrow, but now I have no sorrow for it to take away.’


The waves begin to climb higher as the wind grew stronger and whipped around him. The King tried again.


‘I have not found it but I am happy. I am content!’


And a huge wave from the suddenly turbulent sea reared its head and crashed a foot from where the ex-king stood.


‘But I need to know! I need to know what this treasure is!’



Then jump! He heard the Wind spoke. The wave rose under the draw of the Wind and froze itself like a tendril of finger, beckoning the king.



The giant sized finger waved at him and the King, for all his heroics, felt at once terrified by the strength of the wind and by its erratic temper.



He took a deep breath, closed his eyes and leaped. The finger wrapped itself around him and melded back into the sea. Again the sea immediately calmed and the wind continued on its way, laughing silently.


A burst of cold salty wetness hit the king’s body like the shock of a cough sweet he once took from a medicinal villager.


Once again, the wind had left him with cryptic words. That thought persisted until he realized that while he had been busily trekking the lands and mountains, he had not searched the seas.


Perhaps the Wind had decided to let go of subtlety and hustled him into the cold wet blue instead.


He floated and drifted through the currents and asked the schools of fish the same question. But of course the fish had no concept of treasure, being that gold and silver did not fill their tummy. Although they did direct him often to the many shipwrecks drifting through eternity with their skeleton crew.


The king despaired. He really wanted to go back onto the land, but when the anatomical water enclosed him, he had grown gills and breathed water. When he tried to climb ashore, he started gasping and his lungs started burning. His face turned as blue as the ocean when he finally gave up and accepted that he had, if temporarily, become a fish with 2 legs.


He regretted his curiosity. The Wind was right. It knew that the king wasn’t truly as content as he felt. If he was, he wouldn’t have asked to know the answer to what he had been searching for. The horrible thing is, is that he felt that he was on the verge of discovering it just when he was summoning the wind but had taken the easy way out by asking.



‘I’m in this way over my head.’ Said he and chuckled at his lame joke.


Just then, an octopus as big as the king lumbered up and settled beside him on the deepsea coral. For once, someone had approached the king instead of the other way round.


‘Mmm…excuse me…’


‘Yes?’ said the king.


‘I have a problem…mmmMmmm.’


‘I have been searching for something for quite a long while…Mmmmm…could you help me?’


‘Please don’t tell me you started out being human.’ The King’s heart grew cold.


‘Oh no no, been a squid all my life….’


He relaxed. ‘Ok, what?’


‘Mmmmm….I have been looking for something called water. Do you know what it is? Water? Only that no one here seems to know.’


‘Why!’ the king swept his hands around. ‘All this is water!’


‘Where?’


‘Here!’


‘What, the corals?’


‘No! You can’t see it because you’re in it!’



Suddenly, the ex-king's head snapped up and his brow cleared. Like a hurtling train, his past experience for his whole life rushed by, like a series of snapshots.


His mum, his dad, his first horse. His men, his wife, his kids. His mornings, his noons, his nights. His love, his laughter, his anger. The sunrise, the sunsets, the stars, the moon. The horizon, the breeze, the rain.


The wine, the rice, the fish.


He started laughing and ignored the octopus (which was ignoring him also, so happy it was whirling like a UFO), great big gulps of laughter that peeled his insides. At once, the water that had magically not affected him began to make him uncomfortable. His gills abruptly disappeared. Half gasping and bubbling with joy, he stroked with strong arms till his head popped out the water and he could breathe again.


'I have it! I have it!' He shouted it to the bright blue sky while bobbing in the waves. And did the ex-King laughed and whooped in laughter at his own stupidity and cried tears of joy that he was given the opportunity to possess such a great gift.


And the wind, invisible but always there, looked on as the ex-King swarm back to shore and returned to his beloved kingdom. It watched as he officially retired and handed his elder son his crown (whom he buried in the garden) in a big grand ceremony. It watched when the king sent men to upgrade the villagers of X, Y and Z, who while happy that somebody had come to fix their dripping roof, was nevertheless unsure who exactly, is the king now?


(Oh aye? Oh, him. He was a nice man, but a complete dullard. We 'ad to teach him everything. Looking for Fool’s gold, we told 'im. He must have discovered finally that our wine/ rice/fish is indeed the Treasure and have rewarded us for our wisdom. Thank you, my man. Incidentally, there’s a patch over there you’ve missed. Yup, over there. You're welcome. Want to try a little of our Treasure?)



And the wind would watch as the old king stand on the cliffs to watch the horizon and the sunrises and the sunsets and hollered its name, thanking it for wisdom everyday. Sometimes he would bring his wives and sometimes the new king. And while the wind never answered anymore, it would breezes to swept the old king in acknowledgement.



And Wind agreed that while the old king was a complete dullard, he was nevertheless finally, a happy one.

Out,

AKK (alive and happy)