Xmas party

So I hadn't updated on what happened that night at the boss' place. Suffice to say, I've not touched a drop of wine since that evening, for fear of disappointment!

The wine and champagne was divine; I had too much to drink and puked twice. Once in her toilet, and another time at home. But of course told NO ONE, in case they thought I was binge drinking. And even when puking I made sure to make as little noise as possible, and to put my face as closely to the toilet water surface as possible to minimise spurging sounds.

Great control had to be exercised when walking so as not to appear that I could barely walk straight (I couldn't), and also to make sure that I didn't start to hum any tune, in case I started singing at the top of my lungs to all and sundry, or start talking absolute nonsense and sprouting vulgarities; behaviour which simply wouldn't do in front of your boss, regardless of whether you're drunk or not.

The thing about drunken behaviour, I realise, is that it all depends on context. There is no one-type of drunken behaviour for each person. The context defines your behaviour, and alcohol loosens any inhibitions you may have which prevents you from assimilating into the environment. When I'm at home, I'm a sleepy drunk. When I'm in a karaoke pub, I cannot stop singing. When I'm with friends whose company I enjoy, I'm a silly drunk. Like. REALLY silly.

Anyway, back to the party. The house itself wasn't gigantic, although the land was quite big - there was a giant driveway, and a pool at the back. The decorations were very christmassy, without being cheesy. She had these very lovely faeries (these are the traditional English faeries, not female ones) scattered around the house - I'm sure they cost a fortune as each one was incredibly lifelike, hand made, and no two had the same facial expression.

All of us sat and made merry, and eventually went home at around 3 am. I got a lift from one of my colleagues, and sat in a 2-door Merc SLK convertible with the hood down. What an amazing car, with an equally amazing insurance premium - S$5k per year. Crazy.

And of course the next day, I got into work at er 11.30, and did no work whatsoever, and scooted off for lunch at 1 pm.

La Vita e Bella. Life is Beautiful.

Cleaner

Being busy and ill these past 3 weeks has not helped with the cleanliness of the house. I finally decided to bite the bullet and try getting a part time cleaner, just for one day, to see how it goes.

Oh my how wonderful the experience is. I don't have to lift a finger and the house automatically cleans itself.

I just feel guilty that this poor cleaner, who's skinnier than Liyann, is doing all the manual labour, while I'm sitting on my very ample ass reading the newspapers. How unfair is life?

I suppose it's all relative. My colleague says his friend goes shopping in Paul Smith, and in one shopping trip can rack up a bill of S$16,000, to which he calls his mum and asks to charge it to her account with Paul Smith. That must be even more unfair.

And what about that day when we were carolling at Evelyn Road. The carpark was FILLED with European luxury marques. Not a single Japanese or Korean car in sight. Maserati. Porche SUVs. Jaguar. BMW convertibles.

And there I was with my Hyundai Getz 1.1 Manual with RED plates. I felt almost embarrassed to be there. The way that stupid guard looked at my car when I was parking into a lot.

Never mind. One day I will be there.

It starts with getting into work early.

Culture

Financial Times, December 27/28, Peter Aspden - Outside Edge

"Cultural activity is ideal for banishing thoughts of economic meldown. By reminding us that there are eternal verities that survive the grimmest of times, we are transported away from interest rate movements and a slump in the value of sterling. Like religion, culture tells us that there are bigger things in the world; unlike religion, it makes no pesky demands on our moral behaviour."

Brilliant!

Sickly Cheekopek

This is awful. My left eye has mysteriously turned red last night. I look like a bloody peeping tom. I have a headache and a swollen throat. I don't dare to take any medication in case it mixes with the vast amounts of alcohol tomorrow and makes me pass out.

Plus I snored myself awake.

At 6 am I coughed out some phlegm. Yucks.

Help. I feel shites.

Neither here nor there

Some days I feel my singing absolutely sucks; today is one of them where I feel neither a baritone nor a tenor. On the one hand I lack the warmth of the baritone in the lower / middle range; on the other hand I lack the upper register and ring of the tenors. About the only 4 notes I can sing properly are A - D.

I hope it's because I'm ill.

Still, I've always been confused whether I'm a baritone or tenor. I think my voice is too high to be a baritone, and I have difficulties singing between E and A loudly for continuous passages - it's very tiring on the vocal cords, which means either the technique is wrong, or it's just the wrong range to be singing at too long.

Yet it can't be that tenors can sing low Es when they wake up (some days I get low D). Seriously, when I wake up I can pass off for a bass.

It sucks to be neither here nor there.

Oh, and my technique kinda sucks too. Maybe I should sign of for voice lessons.

God Punisheth The Heathen Scum

As if to remind that Christmas is not meant to be enjoyed by heathen scum, I've been hit by this debilitating fever that saw me bedridden from 6 pm last night to 9 am this morning. I've tossed and turned so often that my back hurts. I've got a pounding headache, though the fever has now subsided. The throat is dry and my breath smells like the garbage dump.

I shall be croaking through choir practice later this afternoon.

Yipes. It's amazing how easily money can be spent for an evening. I discover that, for the upcoming evening on Tuesday:

Catering bill: S$2,500
Alcohol bill (champagne and wines): S$20,000 or so.
Number of people: 20 or so.
Cost per person: 1k or so.

Oh my god, I can hardly wait.

Xmas

Though December is generally the shittiest part of the year when essentially an entire month's worth of work gets crammed into 1/2 a month 'cos everyone's rushing for year end, there's much to be said about the second half of winding down for Xmas.

What's not to love about end December?

Bonus in the bank, though not as fat as last year, but still.
Fat kerching Xmas present from the boss.
Lots of carolling
Xmas parties
Bangkok trip!
New year to herald new resolutions

This year we decided that music should pervade the air and therefore decided to buy all the support staff in the team an ipod shuffle each. At $58 a pop (refurbished) we swooped up 9 units (so that no one can say we're biased) to be wrapped and distributed next week. Now, to find some way of getting rid of that "refurbished" sticker. I've always thought refurbished products from Apple were superb value.

The boss gets an iPhone 16 GB. Not really sure what she's going to do with it - she must have dumped her 80GB ipod away somewhere. We hope she likes the phone, but if not she can always give it to me hurhuhruhur. We're looking for a phone case for the iPhone that will distinguish it from the other iPhones the customers have. Called up Hermes (her favourite brand) but unfortunately they've only brought 2 into Singapore, which were snapped up on the day they were offered on sale, and will not be brought in again until Paris deigns Singapore worthy of another casing. Louis Vuitton has a rather nice one, but it's a slip-in case meaning you have to take the phone in and out, which is a bit counterproductive. Anyway, we're on a shopping mission this Saturday to look for the reclusive iPhone casing. It's gotta propel the iPhone to Vertu-like status.

Thank god we're sharing the cost of the presents among my colleagues.

May I just salivate and gush about what's happening on Tuesday again. Yesterday she went to the wine shop to sort of try some wines to decide what she would order for the party, and asked me to go do some tasting too. That of course needed no persuasion, and so I dropped all work and went downstairs.

The first bottle was rather sharp and needed some 1 hour to air. She didn't like it and therefore opened another bottle, which was much nicer.

I almost choked when she said the first bottle was about 160, and the second about 280 - 300 (well of course it'd be much better rite??). So none of that shitty wine for the party. It's all the way. There's champagne (Krug) somewhere at the start too. And bottles, and bottles of wine. The red wine's all mine - she's got some whites of her own which she prefers.

I think I must have died and gone to heaven.

Anecdote

Yet another funny anecdote from work. It was raining very heavily the other day, and this member of senior management was at the lift lobby with me and looking rather cheery.

I was a little stunned when, after some conversation, she sort of did a little whine and said: "It's raininggggg, it's all your fault!!!!! Make it stop!!!!!" in a girly high pitched voice. I thought it was the most amusing thing ever, and so I put my fingers to my head and pretended to exercise my psychic powers, and replied: "nope, not working!".

Maybe we're overworked.

Guailan

Increasingly I find that newjoiners to the Company all think I'm "scary".

I have newjoiners from the IT department addressing me as Mr. xxx, rather than by first name, though in the company we generally go on a first name basis. To give this context, only a handful of the people "very high up there" are addressed by their surnames. Yet the same person would address my peer by her first name.

Other frontline newjoiners whisper when they come to my room to talk to my roommate.

I remember another newjoiner last year, who didn't dare to come into our room - he'd motion to my roommate so step out to talk to her (we have glass walls). I thought it amusing at the time.

I'm wondering if the cause of all this is that my boss is addressed by surname and is generally regarded as "scary"*, and therefore by proxy / association I'm also "scary". But none of my other colleagues have the same propblem, though admittedly they aren't as senior.

Or may be I just have a guailan face that says "Go away you piddlesome twerp and stop wasting my time".

Ooh that's funny...

* Girls tend to run out of the toilet when they see my boss go in. They claim the temperature drops when she goes in. And then in the lifts they claim that she gives them a once-over look before giving them the glare that suggests: "what is THAT you're wearing.". I'm sure it's all false, but these urban legends tend to spread like wildfire. In the student circles they call her The Devil Wears Prada, though she's really one of the nicest persons ever.

I am loved!

Turns out that the party of drunken revelry at the boss' house was organised for me - I'm meant to invite whoever I want to spend the evening with, at my boss' house, at the boss' expense.

We're getting canapes, champagne and wine.

Not cheap crappy canapes too, I saw the menu - it's S$50 a head just for the canapes. That's before the alcohol. It's going to cost a fortune for the evening.

Oh my god. Happiness. I can't wait.

Happy Camper

I was sulking about our crappy bonus this year and the fact that our increment has been cut by half next year, when I read this fantastic article today from Lucy Kellaway from Financial Times, an excerpt of which is below.

I thought it was brilliant and really spoke to me, because it's exactly how many of us have been feeling the past few years; chasing ever higher bonuses and never being satisfied.

So, I guess I'm a happy camper now.

==========

Over the past decade, the rich, professional classes have developed an increasingly unhealthy attitude to their jobs. We took our jobs and our fat salaries for granted and felt aggrieved if our bonuses were not even bigger than the year before. We demanded that the work be interesting in itself and, even more dangerously and preposterously, that it should have meaning.

The result of all these demands was, of course, dissatisfaction. We had climbed to the very top of Maslow’s hierarchy of needs and discovered that, at the top of the pyramid, the air was very thin indeed. As an agony aunt, I found that by far the most common problem readers submitted came from rich and senior professionals who had all their basic needs more than catered for, leaving their souls in torment. Help me, I’m bored, they cried. Or, worse: what does my work mean?

In the past few months, anguish of this sort has vanished. When one’s job is at risk and one’s savings are a shadow of their former selves, the search for meaning at work is meaningless. The point of a job becomes rather more basic: to feed and house (and, at a pinch, to educate) one’s family and oneself. If we can do this, then anything we manage over and above this is a bonus. Once expectations have fully adjusted to this new reality and we see earning money as the main reason for work, greater satisfaction will follow.

Low expectations have an awful lot to be said for them. In surveys women turn out to be more satisfied at work than men, in spite of earning less for the same jobs and doing most of the work at home too. The reason is simple: women’s expectations of working life are lower. Similarly, Denmark is the happiest country in the world in spite of having a cold, dark climate and a top tax rate of 68 per cent. The stoical Danes do not expect so much of life and, expecting less, find what little they have rather nice.

Climbing down Maslow’s pyramid is painful and progress is slow. However, there is something that managers can do to make the descent a little less grim. The easiest and cheapest way of cheering up demoralised workers is to tell them that they are doing a great job. It is one of the great mysteries of office life why most managers are so resistant to this when it does not cost one penny. Here is all they have to do: pick people off one by one (to do it in groups is lazy and quite spoils the impact) and say thank you and well done, and look as if they mean it.

=============

Mandarin

Most of the time I can get by on my crappy rudimentary mandarin, and I'm quite content to leave it at that. At times however, I wish I'd been just that little bit more studious in the language.

It might surprise some that (a) I was from a Chinese primary school; (b) had crap English; (c) used to win Chinese story telling competitions; (d) could never pronouce words like "three", "thursday" properly and (e) used to top my class in Chinese composition and hanyu pinyin (I can pinyin-ify any word just listening to the sound, but have forgotten the rules as to where the accents go).

All that changed when I went to UK for 3.5 years at the tender age of 9. When I came back at 12, I was speaking English like a Yorkshire coal miner. My parents thought it would be too difficult to pick up both Malay and Chinese at the same time, and enrolled me in a national school, hence my current state of being.

It's a little embarrassing especially when I go to get my regular foot and back massages at Marine Parade - this place called Chen Kang. It's a great outfit - cheap and decent. They keep it cheap by employing these people from China who are happy to work for the $8 or so they get an hour (the outfit keeps the rest for overheads).

The guy I usually go to keeps blabbering to me in Mandarin, and half the time I have absolutely no idea what he's talking about, so I just about agree to everything he says. Which must seem a bit strange 'cos sometimes I'd reply "yes, that's right" when I think he's actually asking me some question.

The only words I know are: "lighter". "yes more force please". "oh that spot hurts". "OWWWWW". "1 hour for the feet and 30 mins for the back". "I'm 29 this year.". "yes, the force is ok."

Today he asks me about rental in the area, which then led on to something about how much my house is, which of course seems astronomical. I think then there was something about a "dai4 kuan3", which I appear to have correctly guessed meant bank loan, since he then went on to ask me how much I pay for instalments every year and how many years the loan was.

I tried to be nice and say that he was still young so plenty of time to make money, and then he launched into some philosophical conversation about how some people think youth is a capital to be invested, but that for him youth was irrelevant and his hands were what's important. Or something like that. I don't know. I just went "orh. dui4.".

I think I must sound like a right retard.

Drunken Revelry Awaits

We've all been invited to the boss' house on 23 Dec for drinks and some food. Oh my god I can't wait. She has the best wines, and I am so going to get comPLETELY sloshed on the 23rd.

I think I have carolling on 23rd, but as you might surmise from the title of this blog, it's beerandchoir, not choirandbeer, and therefore alcohol (good ones at that) comes before choir.

So, very unfortunately, no choral sex for me on 23rd.

In case anyone misunderstood, IT WAS A JOKE. The posting on singing is like sex was meant to be tongue-in.... :o ....cheek.

The Farmer

Friday must have been one of the lighter moments in work. We went for a meeting with a Japanese client, and the client said, after the meeting, that she had a favour to ask of my boss. Which seemed very strange to both of us, since we've never met her before.

Anyhow, her words were: "It's private, so all of you can leave now."

The story, bizarre as it seems, goes like this: the father owns a farm, and he's getting old. He would like to see the daughter get married. To a [insert my job title], and told her that the next time she met one, she should ask her if she knew any single eligible [insert my job title] whom she could marry. So, being the dutiful and filial Japanese daughter that she is, she did exactly that.

Needless to say, my boss was quite taken aback, but immediately referred to me and said: "oh he's young, smart and HANDSOME.". And then told me, in all seriousness, that if I wanted to be farm owner (it may well be a pearl farm!), I should take her out.

I'd make a handsome farmer I'm sure.

Red Light District

Proof that I live in a red light district, or that I have a humsup face.

2.30 am. I get in a cab. In my office wear. At the office.

I tell the driver: "Joo Chiat Place please"

His response: "Joo Chiat Place...Hotel ah?"

My response: "-_- No. My house."

Incontrovertible proof that I live in a red light district.

Appalling quality of press

I am absolutely appalled at the interview the Singapore press did with Hwei Yen's husband. I can't believe the interview took 45 mins. I can't even call it an interview. The quality of the questions were beyond idiotic. It was as if a bunch of people gathered around to simply find out more gossip. It was also incredibly rude for them all to basically crowd around him and stuff their mikes in his face.

I'm so appalled at the level of reporting that I'm glad I'm not paying good money to subscribe to Singapore news. I may as well burn the money as an offering.

Also appalled at the dressing of the reporters. It's as if they are going to the market to buy fish. Zero level of professionalism.

Priorities

I wonder. If I were told I had two weeks left to live, how would I spend my time.

Often I think, not another minute in the office, that's for sure.

Yet why do I persist in slogging day after day in the office?

For the paycheque at the end of the month I suppose.

But to what end? I don't really know.

I'm not living my life fully. I need to reevaluate my priorities.

Maybe I should make a list.

Singing is like sex

Finished 2 sessions of carolling, and all I have to say is, Goddammit we're good. I heard the sound from the audience on the second day (since I was late). It was very warm and pleasing. We were standing in twos, so couldn't really hear each other, but tt's ok, 'cos we just look at each other's mouths.

The bass next to me had an excellent tone, so I had fun blending. The fact that he sang well egged me on to sing better, so I think we had a ball of a time, or at least I did.

Come to think of it, singing is like sex. You find someone who matches your level, and start the ritual of singing. The beginning stages you sort of dance around each other while your voice finds its balance and adjusts to the new surroundings.

Then you hit the spot when the voices intertwine to create a new whole that is a combination of two selves yet has a distinct identity. The sum is fuller than its parts.

The voices go higher. and higher. and higher, until they explode with harmonic ecstasy...ahh. Satisfaction.

Hmm. Maybe I have a career in choral porn scripting.

I've always felt very fulfilled after a good performance anyhow.

Senseless violence

The rumours trickled in at about 5.30 pm, that poor Hwei Yen is the one being taken hostage and has been killed. I couldn't believe it - didn't she just come back from Melbourne a week back from a holiday? What was she doing in India? It didn't fit. But the description in the papers earlier that morning then flashed back. Lawyer in late 20s. Female. Recently married. No children. Doubts began to surface. At 8pm, we received an email confirming our worst fears, that it was indeed her, and that she'd been killed. What tragedy.

We were classmates in uni, and had just gotten on friendly terms over a couple of transactions we did together (she does the same kind of work I do). We were just warming up to each other when we found out that we were both from the same JC. We added each other on facebook during that boring meeting a month back when we were waiting for some Norwegians to arrive. Great working relationship. We swapped some messages while she was in Melbourne, and promised to meet up for lunch after she came back. I guess that's not happening now.

When you're young you never think of your mortality. I'm sure she must have been frightened, but thought that she might be alright. I wonder how she felt in the last few minutes.

And to think, she was just there to attend a one-day seminar.

You think life is or ought to be fair. But clearly it isn't. It really puts things in perspective, and makes me wonder if it's completely pointless to plan for the future when you can't be sure what lies ahead. Maybe we should live each day as if it were our last.

Oh, and I've been told that neither of the 2 winter coats below are suitable. Firstly, they both look too long for me and I may look like a perverted flasher. Also, the Zegna one looks like an elongated suit.

Work blues

The past 3 or so days have been so incredibly stressful that I think I've lost a kg a day. Yup. 3 kgs in 3 days. Maybe this is a great weight loss plan. It starts by having only got time for 1 meal a day. Bah.

I've reluctantly had to do a completely new type of work for a different boss (since my boss is away in the US), not really knowing what I'm meant to be doing, without supervisory support. It sucks to feel junior again, but highlights that I've got so much more that I don't know, and that it's important not to get too comfortable with things. It's not everyone that will take my little idiosyncrasies.

I've also realised that perhaps I could be less snappish at my juniors - sometimes they really don't know what they're doing and a little guidance at the right moments would be so very much appreciated. And what I might consider a harmless snap may be misconstrued as a severe scolding. Hrm.

Went for a client lunch that I initiated last week - I guess the more one does these things the easier it gets.

I should talk to more people; get to know more people etc etc.

Another question which vexes me. If a client requests for me to add her on Facebook, what on earth do I do?? I certainly don't want them seeing all my inappropriate pictures, which I can't really help if other people post them up. But if I don't add them, they might think me rude. Privacy settings are too much work, while controlling my online presence may not be what I want.

Help.

I can't wait for carolling this weekend.

Winter Coat Part II

This one's pretty nice to at about 1/4 of the price of the previous one. Can anyone really tell the diff? This one's from Ted Baker whereas the previous one's from Zegna.

Somehow it doesn't seem to be as well cut as the previous one.

But then on my rotund body, it's hard for anything to look good.

Winter Coat

Since I'm supposed to head to UK during Winter, I've been looking for some winter coats. This one caught my eye at first glance. The only problem is that it costs about US$1,200 +++. AFTER discount. Sigh.

My alternative is to get one from places like Winter Wear at Vivo - I saw a similar one, but it was cut like a sack.

Karaoke

I've decided to stop karaokeing (actually have only done it about 4 - 5 times). It's actually quite boring. All the places have the same old boring songs, 3/4 of which are Chinese. There's only that many times you can sing Making Love Out of Nothing At All.

Maybe karaoke was a proxy for choir, but now that I'm singing in the choir again, it's lost its draw.

And really. Karaoke songs aren't fulfilling. Think about it:

Leonardo Dreams of His Flying Machine.
vs.....
Barbie Girl

Oh, what a difficult choice...

Bulimic

I must be turning into one. Had dinner at Brazilian Churragodknowsdunnowat (spelling??) at Vivocity.

The meats kinda sucked and it was definitely not worth the $45+++ each that we paid.

Anyway, after coming back from the movie I felt so grossed out, heaty, greasy, and carnivorous I decided a good vomit would make me feel better. And it did. Little bits of beef floating around in the toilet bowl.

It's not the first time. There was this other time I was drinking myself silly (someone's birthday party), and we had greasy creamy chocolate cake and some greasy buffet food. Again I felt so grossed out (I just couldn't digest it) that I decided to puke it out. Felt much better after that. And continued to drink myself silly.

What an easy way to get rid of indigestible food. Kiat understands I'm sure haha.

Shut up and let me go

This completely irritating song has been stuck in my head the entire day no thanks to the radio. I don't even know how the song goes, who sang it etc etc. It goes:

la la la la la (don't know what)
so shut up and let me go.

It is so f-ing irritating.

Cars Cars Cars

The opening scene for Quantum of Solace started with a car chase scene. James Bond's car is an absolute stunner - an Aston Martin - classy. I REALLY want one. Until I came home and checked the price. wtf. S$700,000.

I guess I'll stick with my crappy Getz 1.1 M. It's just been serviced, runs decently. I imagine I'm driving a sports car with a parachute hitched to the back.

Driving back I saw this Perodua Kelisa spray painted blue and painted with the stripes you find on a Mini Cooper. I couldn't help but feel amused. S$100 says his dream car is a Mini Cooper haha

Gold Class @ TGV

I bagged myself 2 TGV Gold Class tickets a while back on some company performance award, and used them today to watch Quantum of Solace with another colleague.

I could really get used to the seats in the theatre! It's such a different experience. You go into a separate lounge where you can relax before your movie starts, away from the crowds; an unharried experience. When you get in, you sit in a plush reclinable chair, in either groups of 2 seats or 4 seats. The next row is so far in front of you that if you talked, they probably wouldn't be able to hear you. In the middle, there's a table for you to put your snacks on, and a call button which, if activated, will send the cinema attendant scurrying to you to get your orders from a menu which includes things like chicken wings, Corona beer and cocktails. There's a separate wine list if you were so inclined.

I could get used to this!!!

Ordinarily the tickets would go for S$25 each, which I think is quite reasonable given the kind of seat you get and the fact that there are very few people in the cinema, so there's none of that irritating teenage chatter to disturb you, especially for those quiet movies. Very private. Like business class vs economy class on airplanes.

It's well worth the money -- we were calculating the cinema capacity and concluded that the movie theatre probably doesn't make much money from these seats.

90% of the patrons were angmohs. Living the high life I presume.

Choir musings

Choir has been quite fulfilling of late. I'm glad to report that I'm mostly back in my groove, though my upper range is still missing and I could sing better. My sense of pitching and tuning is also back.

It helps that a lot of the songs that we are performing are also very strong pieces -- there's always something new to learn, and they sound great too. Absolutely inspiring, unlike so many of the music pieces that we've been forced to sing over the last few years.

Time seems to pass so fast when you're having fun - I could sing for 10 hours and not feel tired. The music itself is rejuvenating, and I find myself at the end of the practice hoping that the next Saturday will come sooner.

It's nice to know that the juniors feel that they want to learn from the seniors; but to be quite honest, we've really got nothing to teach, and in fact it's we who are learning from you. Vocal technique; musicality. You've already surpassed us by far.

Ass

I've often been told that I can be somewhat judgmental, which is not a good thing. It's true, though I'm not really sure from where this stems. It's a terrible thing to say, but I tend to consign a significantly large number of people I first meet into the "I can't be bothered" bin, meaning that our contact thereafter will be somewhat limited.

Which is of course absolutely appalling, because what gives me the divine right to pass judgment on other people in that manner? Nothing. Yet I do it.

And do I suppose that I'm such an incredibly interesting person that people will flock to me for a taste of my superior wit, intellect and humour? It seems that indeed I harbour such grandeurs.

It's a two edged sword -- just as I tend to judge others, I in turn fear judgment, which may be limiting my development as a person. I tend to avoid venturing into new things, because what if ppl think I'm a twit, dumb, moronic, crap, etc etc? Or any situation where I have to put myself out there and take a risk. Hmmm. Indeed I'm weird.

Then again, from another perspective, since we only have a limited amount of time, isn't it better to spend the time in the company of people you like?

Or maybe I'm just an ass.

Layoffs

From a management point of view (not that I'm in a position of influence at all), I can't decide which view I subscribe to -- quick one-off layoffs across the board, a-la DBS Bank and NOL; slow repeated cuts a-la Citibank; or CLSA which told the staff to please take a pay cut to save jobs across the board.

Of the 3, I think Citibank's strategy is the worst - morale among staff would simply be horrible, because why would people bother to be productive if they couldn't be sure if their head was next on the chopping block.

So that leaves DBS/NOL vs CLSA. DBS/NOL's strategy is a good opportunity to get rid of deadwood, and as long as staff know it's a one off event, they can at least put that behind them and focus on the future, and leaves the company in a stronger, leaner position. The bad thing is that nobody likes job cuts -- it's not nice and what about those poor people who have been laid off in these terrible times; what happens to their families, their obligations; how will they find new jobs etc etc.?

But as I've always told my colleagues, we're not running a charity; it's a business; we're in the business to be no. 1, and therefore as employers we owe this duty to the company; and as employees, we owe ourselves a duty to constantly strive to do our best and not form part of the deadwood. Nobody likes deadwood. It's also important to keep our personal liabilities and expenditure low so as not to spend beyond our means. Save for a rainy day etc etc in case the unimaginable should happen.

Sacking however, is easier said than done. In my team we have 2 support staff who are next to hopeless and are just calling to be sacked. However, when I think about the fact that my poor secretary has to support 2 aged parents and a sister suffering from depressive disorder that renders her incapable of working and requiring constant attention (she's prone to suicide attempts), I wonder what would happen were she to lose her job and a terrible sense of guilt washes over me. I've been putting off finding a replacement for at least a year, though I know this can't go on because she's just not suited to the job. I told HR to help her find an alternative position in the company more suited to her "talents" if possible before sacking her.

The other one however, is worse than hopeless and we're probably going to get rid of her asap.

So anyway that leaves us with CLSA's strategy, which I can't say is very popular from the point of view of employees who are not deadwood, because they are essentially subsidizing the deadwood who continue to collect a salary while the performers are working. It's no good for the performers' morale, and therefore also no good for the company's performance. But on the other hand I haven't factored in the price tag to be placed on the general staff morale for having job security.

So I don't really know.

This is all so fascinating maybe I should do an MBA.

State of the Economy

These are scary times. There's nothing but bad news coming out of the US - the stock market sucks; the consumer market sucks; prices are dropping etc etc.

Singapore seems to be hit quite badly too. Two weeks ago I had lunch in Moomba in Upper Circular Road with a client from one of the European banks who were nationalised just to find out how she was coping. The first thing I noticed was there there were only 4 occupied tables (including ourselves) -- 15% filled max. I wondered if they could even cover their overheads - none drank wine (the most high margin item). I think the situation probably repeats itself in many other restaurants around the island. I don't think they will last long since. Even among colleagues we are now eating at hawker centres, our favourite phrase being: "Austerity drive, cannot eat at restaurants".

I also mentioned a while back that the car auctions on sgcarmart were but signs of the beginning. True enough, Straits Times reported this week that car repossessions were on the rise. Yesterday, CoEs for small cars fell to a historic low of S$2, which simply reflects that the middle class /lower middle class (i.e. the bulk of the population) simply have no confidence in job security and earnings in the near future to service the car loans. I don't think this situation will ease anytime soon.

Banks seem to be very nervous as well. Yesterday I read a letter to a borrower essentially telling them that they have defaulted on some terms of their contract, and therefore they wanted their money back unless a string of extra conditions were met. One of the "defaults" involved the borrower not providing their accounts statements on time, which is quite a minor breach. It just goes to show that when times are bad, banks will look for any odd reason to call on their loans.

The slowdown is also manifesting itself at work. Just up to half a year ago, I almost passed out from the hundreds of emails I receive each day. December 2007 was the busiest time I'd ever been, and June 2008 I was in the office daily from errrr 11 am or so in the morning until 4 am 3 weeks in a row. But this entire week, I've received about 10 related work emails every day. This morning, I have *no* emails. It's unprecedented. Some of my finance colleagues are struggling to meet their targets every day, and the company has already implemented a hiring freeze except for the "right people" and also for the "right department. Still, we have a fairly low overheads and costs, so I think we won't see job cuts any time soon.

The situation we are faced with today is much worse, I think, than in 1998 (Asian crisis) and 2003 (SARS) -- at least then the problem was localised. Today it's worldwide. In these times I'm glad and relieved that I've got a stable job with manageable housing payments, and a car which has already been paid for.

Cars cars cars

I can't help thinking about them.

Every f....ing day.

I feel like I *need* a new car.

I don't.

HELP!

Sgcarmart.com is henceforth banned from my list of websites.

Blardy Starhub

I was mighty pissed off to hear that Starhub said that they weren't going to bring the iPhone in this year.

So pissed off in fact, that the very next day I went to buy myself a HTC Touch Pro. It's no iPhone, but it's close. It's also very pricy - with a basic plan it goes for 788, so I upgraded the plan to a high end one, and got it for 588.

Then I tried the phone, and ITS LAGGY. ARGH. unlike the iPhone which has no lag. Why is it so hard to get a simple phone that I like!?!!?!!?!

So it's an unnecessary S$588 spent, plus a 24 month contract on a plan with 680 mins of talktime a month, half of which will be wasted.

And that caused me to resent Starhub even more.

So there you go. Starhub, I hate you.

Like Jimmy says: Sparky, please go and pee on your owner and bite his leg.

Leonardo Dreams of His Flying Machine

I am completely smitten by Eric Whitacre's "Leonardo Dreams of His Flying Machine". In fact it's been stuck in my head the entire day.

I'm rather excited about the upcoming Korea trip in January with the choir. The songs are great, and we've finally gotten some attention from the conductor. If only the choir could catch up at a faster pace to match his pace. It's agonizing that we've complained for years that he's never given us any attention, only now to find ourselves in the position of having to catch up to him.

I'm also proud to announce that I *think* I've gotten my choral groove back, as compared to my first practice back in early Oct. My singing technique may be in the pits still, but hearing and pitching is ok.

And Christmas Carolling is coming!

Oh happy days are here!

(cue music):

Oh happy day (oh happy day)
Oh happy day (oh happy day)
When the K washed (when the K washed)
When the K washed (when the K washed)
The K washed (when the K washed)
Washed our crappy singing away (oh happy day)
Oh happy day (oh happy day)

[lyrics changed]

Alcoholics R Us

With great pride I announce here that I finished an entire bottle of wine by myself!!!

My friend picked me up from my house after that to play Rock Band at his house. He needed to pick up some stuff for his Laos trip, and I found myself singing Christmas Carols at Watsons in Parkway. Oh the embarrassment.

But yet that's not half as embarrassing as two Fridays ago when I attended a birthday bash. Having had too much to drink, it seems that I was singing Eternal Flame at the top of my lungs to two fellow female colleagues in turn, complete with hand actions.

"..DO YOU FEEL MY HEART BEATINGGGGGGGG, DO YOU UNDERSTAND, DO YOU FEEEEL THE SAMEEEEEEEEEEE"

(at this point I grabbed the victim's hand and put it over my heart).

TWICE.

I almost passed out from embarrassment on Monday.

It seems they found it amusing though. I've now got a reputation as a funny drunk. Ouch.

Discipline

When I was younger I was quite the mischievous kid, as a result of which I'd get whacked a lot by my mum mainly, but also by my dad. Of course when I got whacked I'd say all sorts of horrible things like "I wish you were dead", "You're not my mother/father", "You're all bastards / bitch / asshole / fuckers", "I fucking hate you" etc etc or any combination of those.

There'd also be those games to see whether one could outrun the cane, or if we could hide the cane. I found out that hiding the cane is one of the worst things to do because then they'd just grab whatever was handy - the umbrella, the clothes hanger (fucking painful that one).

Sometimes I'd get whacked in public, or at home where the tenants (we rented some of our rooms out for income), or in front of relatives. When this happened I'd often run to one of the people I knew because there'd be a 50% chance that they would intervene and the whacking would stop.

That leaves 50% of the time when they failed to intervene, and I remember glaring at them with hatred, for how could they be so cruel as to watch me suffer in pain while idly standing by?

Looking back, I don't think I harbour any resentment for the whackings -- in fact they were probably good for me, and as such I'm an advocate of corporal punishment. I know this point divides a lot of people, but this is just a personal conviction I have.

I got the same look today from the shop assistant's daughter in Joo Chiat, which made this whole memory flash back -- I hadn't seen the scene play out for a long long time. She was sitting in a corner, all teary, looking at every stranger pass with accusatory eyes, as if it were our fault that she were being whacked.

While she was getting whacked, she cried so loudly that some strangers went over to stop the mother from whacking her. Others, like me, chose to stay by the wayside, believeing that the mother knows best.

I have to admit those glaring eyes made me feel rather guilty for the rest of the day. It also got me thinking - at what point does it stop being a process of discipline, and crossing over to child abuse?

And so it begins

While I was surfing cars yesterday on sgcarmart.com, I saw 4 pages of cars being auctioned by GE Money, which is a personal loan provider. Last year they were aggressively promoting this campaign, something about I Love James. God knows who or what James is and what it has to do with loans.

Anyway, it's yet another reminder that one should never spend beyond one's means. Never borrow to buy a non-necessity, in this case a car. It's all too easy to lose a job and be stuck with what is essentially a depreciating asset that one cannot afford.

I believe that this is only the beginning. Next year and 2010, many buyers of high end condos in Singapore who were hoping to flip the condo at a profit are going to get caught out, especially those who bought the condos on a deferred payment scheme. Banks are going to be very cautious giving out new loans on falling house prices -- I've heard of a couple (two lawyers) who could not get the full 80% loanThe coming recession and economic downturn presents good opportunities to buy for their house -- and if they, holding stable jobs, can't get the full loans? A housing crash seems inevitable.

So the recession is going to present very good opportunities to swoop in on some distressed assets. It's time to take a closer look at auction apartments and cars. We just have to wait for the mass auctions to begin.

Mind Your Language

One of my favourite shows from young is this series called "Mind Your Language", which, if produced nowadays, would be wholly offensive. But if you just take the stereotype with a pinch of salt, it really is quite hilarious.

The whole series is about a bunch of foreign students learning English as a foreign language. All the usual stereotypes are played up. The chinese girl who does nothing but preach about Chairman Mao's teachings. The Sikh and the Muslim who are forever on the verge of waging holy war upon each other. The flirtatious French girl.

I always thought it was a show from the 80s, but found out today that it was first produced in the 70s - wow, it's older than me!

You can watch this series on Youtube.

I've been watching it on my newest tech toy, an Acer Aspire One netbook. It's great! Small (1 kg), handy, and has all the basic functions one would need in a basic computer - surf, basic word processing, playing movies. And it only cost S$499. Talk about a steal. It'll be what I bring on holidays from now. The batt life is a bit shite, but that's ok. Oh, and it runs on Linux.

Happy Herb Pizza

It's been a while hasn't it? It's tough to keep writing about hedonistic adventures when in truth my life is really far from hedonistic.

I've been told it's a pre-30's syndrome - a last ditch attempt to do young things before I turn 30.

I realise as one gets older that expectations as to proper behaviour and decorum are higher. People judge you based on what they expect people of your age and position to behave. You are expected to behave your age. Fortunately I don't look old, so it's perfectly ok for me to get myself completely smashed and misbehave for the moment. Until I become a representative of the company of course. Then it's all about the image projected.

It's my aim to do as many young things as possible before turning 30. There isn't much time left.

Anyhow I shall share a story about Happy Herb Pizzas. If you've ever been to Siem Reap or Phnom Penh, Cambodia, there's a shop in each place called Happy Herb Pizzas. Their specialty is serving marijuana laced pizzas. You can order your pizza Happy, Extra Happy or Extremely Happy. Needless to say, my friends and I (when we visited Cambodia many years ago) ordered Extremely Happy.

The pizza comes in personal pan sizes, at about USD4 each, as at that time. By itself I have to say the pizzas were excellent. Toppings are variable, and there is a dusting on top of what looks like oregano or pepper, but which really is weed. By way of a condiment you are also given a small sauce dish of what looks like ground black pepper (snigger).

Weed itself is tasteless, which was rather disappointing. I was told by my friend that it takes about 20 mins for the effect to kick in. I wasn't sure what to expect, but 20 mins later, nothing had happened. No hallucinations, no feeling, nothing. Since we were only going to do this once I thought we should just go all out in the name of experimentation, and so I smothered my pizza with all the weed there was. The pizza was really encrusted with a thick layer of black happy herbs.

Still. Nothing. What a disappointment.

After an hour or so, we decided to get a drink elsewhere - beer was going for a special price of USD0.60 per pint for "Angkor Beer".

It was 30 mins into the beer (I later found out it was a very bad idea to mix) that I discovered, for the first time in my life, why "getting high" is named as such. The feeling is exactly that - I felt as if I was removed from my surroundings - on a higher plane of existence, looking down at my body and its surroundings in a very surreal fashion. It's like getting very drunk, but without the feeling of wanting to puke, because weed is not an irritant substance like alcohol (nor, I am told, is it additive).

We got back to the hotel shortly after, and as I staggered back to my bed and stared at the ceiling, the whole ceiling was spinning - vertigo - and I simply could not get up again.

We made the mistake of not buying sufficient drinking water. As a result, all the happy herbs remained in the body overnight and wasn't peed out. It is extremely dehydrating, and I felt as if no amount of water could ever quench the thirst.

Of the next day I remember very little. I woke up feeling slightly better, but believe that the body started to digest the weed from the day before all over again. I remember stoning out at breakfast, feeling sleepy. I remmeber stumbling out of the hotel, and then back to bed that night. I don't remember what we did that day except that I was trailing my friends. They told me that I just spaced out the whole day haha.

An experience not to be repeated.

Investment & Hedging

It's been a devastating month so far as the growth of personal wealth is concerned, having seen 1/4 - 1/3 of my net worth decimated by market events. Bah.

I've signed up for a share builder's plan with Poems, which basically diverts part of my monthly income into Singapore blue chips. Hopefully that will enable me to buy into good quality stocks at reasonable prices.

I've also increased my shareholdings in some dividend yielding stocks with the aim of supplying a steady side stream of income -- my so called "f*** off income" so that I have the ability at any time to say I've had enough of work (ie "f*** off") and to then sell char kuay teow or [insert some other choice of low paying jobs].

Unfortunately, I calculated that in order to achieve my desired level of side income, I will need 700,000 units of that particular stock. This is going to take forever.

I also need to conserve some cash to scout around for a new, bigger house starting next year. I suspect prices will start to fall next year when the new stream of housing projects that started construction in 2007 - 2008 come online and the the real estate speculators on deferred payment scheme panic sell. Maybe 2010 will be a good time to plonk money into a new house. We'll see. My first house has taught me what to look out for when buying a house.

Recent events have also taught me the importance of hedging one's investments, i.e. not putting everything into one basket, so that one's wealth can continue to grow under all economic scenarios.

Probably the most important investment is investing in the career. Fortunately, this has been time well spent, and all seems to be rosy at present in work. If all goes well, it seems a promotion may be on the cards as early as next June or December 2009, and hopefully along with it a decent pay rise. This supplies the foundation necessary for other investments. It's a stable career, so I'm pretty fortunate. The prospects seemed to be a bit daunting at first, but I think on balance I'm looking forward to the new challenges the position entails.

It's now been confirmed that I'm heading to London for a four month work stint starting in January. That should be interesting, though it brings new anxieties. I'm told Londoners are particular about dressing and presentation, which vexes me to no end and brings me to the next important area of investment - investing in yourself.

Now I've never really bothered about how I looked, and honestly, I can sometimes look like a complete train wreck. It's just how I've been brought up -- clothes were never a priority. Fashion has of course never interested me the slightest, nor shopping for that matter. However, for some reason I'm completely horrified at the thought that the stupid angmohs will think that I'm some lazy slob.

For this reason I've been reading up on all sorts of books and magazines to bring myself up to speed. Have also been surfing GQ online and been introduced by my shoppaholic colleagues to all sorts of US websites selling clothes. It's been an eye-opener to say the least. For one, it seems that my Chorale blazer violates all modern fashion principles haha. Ventless, too many buttons, too tight, buttons too high etc etc. Whoa.

I've also been checking out Winter overcoats for use in London. There are a number of nice ones on Bluefly.com, though it's appalling how much they cost.

Life has never been so complicated.

Debauchery Part 3, 4, 5, 6, ...infinity

I'm not sure if readers are interested in what I have to say about my debaucherous lifestyle. After a while, it does tend to end up the same and revolve around drinking, singing and women. And how many variations of that can there be?

Then again, these themes keep all the tabloid magazines very busy and rich, so who's to say what people find interesting and what people do not?

Like I mentioned earlier, it's all probably a phase. I'm not ready to settle down. I still want to see the world and all facets of life.

I have however, added smoking (but only a stick during each of the karaoke sessions) to the list of my ever expanding vices. I don't think I like it, but when I'm drunk and everybody does it, oh what the hell right?

This must by why my singing sucks now.

And then there was that episode of what I'm sure must be drunk driving, since I woke up in a carpark somewhere at 8 am in my car. HRM. I THINK it started out as wanting to go get a bottle of hundred plus after a night of uhm, making merry.

Oh the slippery slope of the destruction of self.

But what fun it is to live in the moment and forget all cares of the world for a night.

One Last Try

I'm still half hearted whether or not I want to go to Korea with Chorale.

I went for one practice last week, and realised how much I have deteriorated just not singing for one year. For the first time in my life, I couldn't properly pitch NOR EVEN CATCH A HARMONISING NOTE FROM ANOTHER REFERENCE SINGER. wtf. So much for perfect pitch.

I also had difficulties singing anything above a D, harmonising, singing in a chord and basically struggled slightly to keep up.

Wtf.

I've been relegated to singing second tenor and first bass. Woe is me. How far the mighty have fallen.

Poor technique is to blame.

Oh. And those Karaoke sessions too, lulled into complacency of singing crappily amidst a sea of ordinary singers, without the use of any form of technique.

Perhaps I should take up voice classes.

Then again, why bother if this may be the very last project I ever do with Victoria Chorale? Even without Chorale, weekends and free time are so precious - is this an investment for which I will get a decent return?

I suppose the return is still better than vegetating in front of the TV watching Nigella Feasts.

But then again, who's to say that there's no virtue in doing nothing?

Hunger

I was most impressed to learn that the HC JC choir got a score of 93.50 in the World Choir Games 2008 for the mixed choir category, earning the title of category champion, with a second gold in Folklore.

Mind you this wasn't some crappy competition where half the world wasn't attending like what happened in Xiamen. I looked at the results list -- it was extremely well represented, which makes the score all the more amazing. This was the 4th highest score in the entire competition.

It's important to also note that the score is higher than VJ's category champion score a few years back in the same category.

What's also important is to note the crappy performance of VJ Choir in the recent Llangollen choir competition, which, after watching the video performance online, was well deserved. It's a miracle they weren't bordering on silver. Lacklustre and at times out-of-tune singing. Terrible song choices (I mean, come on, POTONG PADI???). Boring. And to think they thought of winning the title of Choir of the World. Be realistic, please. The songs were overused, overplayed and heard in just way too many competitions. And really. POTONG PADI. My god.

Why is this? A few years back, HC Choir was NOTHING compared to VJ and VC. They needed alumni help to compete, and even then, their scores were somewhat miserable. How have they risen from the ashes and emerged the top scoring Singaporean choir of all time?

In my opinion this is just further proof of what I said a few months back. (I'd pause to add something here about 2 certain individuals, but decided to leave it at that). It all boils down to one factor. Lack of musical direction and attention from the top. How else can one explain it? There can't be any difference in how hard the 2 JC choirs practice. It must be the same.

The difference is this: one is hungry, the other has lost the hunger. The hunger for success. Without hunger one cannot strive for better things. The proof is in the pudding. And god does it piss me off to see this happen.

Quote

This quote really tickles me:

“Blogging is like masturbating into a mirror while you videotape yourself so you can watch it later while you masturbate.” - Lewis Black

Ubin

I've been buying a whole bunch of bike stuff in preparation of going off-road cycling. Bike rack (to take my bike to M'sia in my trusty and crappy Getz). Helmet (in matching colours of course). Bike gloves.

Wah. like pro liddat.

So anyway yesterday my friend and I decided that we were obese and needed to do something about it.

Cycled all the way to Changi Jetty, crossed to Ubin, did some offroading and came back.

I have to say it was really quite fun, though the cleaning at the end was kinda shite. The best part is going down the track at what seems like breakneck speed, wondering if you're going to crash into a tree. Talk about adrenaline rush. The front suspension fork was working very hard supporting my weight, and I sort of glided over the little potholes and stuff. VERY VERY FUN and highly recommended to everyone.

Like the geeks that we were my friend decided that his suspension fork wasn't good enough and we went exploring for new ones. I had no idea they could cost from S$800 onwards. I think I'll stick with mine for now.

I'm rather upset 'cos I scratched my bike, of all places, at SHELL station while I was trying to pump my bike's tires. The bike dropped onto the concrete. SIGH.

Smitten

I'm absolutely smitten by the new Golf 1.4 TSI 7 speed DSG. Test drove it today. If it weren't for the fact that the fucking salesman had such a black face, I would have considered buying it. Fella probably thought I wasn't good for my money.

After that we headed to the Hyundai showroom to try the i30. It's no different from previous Hyundai cars -- their design is getting better and better, but underneath it, the engine is still like shit. Course. Underpowered. Sluggish. Crap. They have so much to catch up with before they reach even Japanese standards. And yet the car is priced at S$60k. What a joke.

Goose Pimples

While I was out getting drunk on Friday, the Beijing Olympics opening ceremony was playing. I had no idea what I missed until I saw the photos here.

My god, I have never felt so enthralled by pictures before. I actually had goosepimples just marvelling at the pictures. The grandeur and scale of the show is simply mind boggling. I feel so proud to be of Chinese descent. I'm STILL having goosepimples now after closing the window.

Wow, wow, WOW!

It is so unfortunate that Singapore's national day parade took place just one day after. One can't help but compare -- it just paled so badly in comparison. But I guess it's not really fair to compare. After all, Singapore only has 3+ million citizens. China has about 350 times more, so one might expect a show 350 times better....

I'm told my experience is much milder than what goes on in some of the other places, esp. in China.

He says that when he went, the girls would openly strip in the rooms and offer "oral pleasures", and then you can decide later if you want the full works.

My god won't they get aids.

Debauchery Part Deux

I haven't blogged for a while. No impetus. But thought I'd give everyone an update of my pursuit of hedonistic pleasures, revolving mainly around drinking, singing and women, in that order.

1. The week after Debauchery Part 1 my boss decided that we needed to get the colleague properly drunk, and thought it might be fun to do it via a wine tasting session. So 8 of us trooped down, and between us polished off 8 bottles of very naissssss wine. Now since some (i.e. me and a few others) drink more than the rest, it necessarily means some of us had more than 1 bottle between us. Which is a lot. The wines were all very tasty, I was quite grateful that er the boss picked up the tab. I think it ran into 2k or so. Still, it doesn't beat those 3 bottles of 10k wines (Petrus?) that she had at her client's house. I need to find myself some clients like that.

2. The week after that, my colleagues then decided it was time to induct me into the world of Karaoke. And mind you, not the K-Box, Party World nonsense -- PROPER karaoke, with the works. I should've known something was wrong when the taxi driver gave me a look when I told him I was headed to Club Jaguar. My colleagues had promised me it was a "high crass" place. Crass indeed.

At the entrance, 3 scantily clad women stared me up and down. I called my friends to save me from the sleaze, and she led me into this dark corridor full of more scantily clad women with dresses so short and low cut that if they bent over, their boobs would pop out, and the butt would just pop out of the dress. It's like a scene out of some porn flick.

We got into a room, the 6 of us, and were entertained by a hostess who would pour drinks for us. I can totally understand the draw of these venues -- if you were a lonely man with nothing to do on a Friday night, you could just head down to one of these places and be assured of a good time, minus the specials, which are extra. The hostess is fairly friendly. Could speak English, play silly games with you, and sing with you. Of course the fact that I can outsing all of them adds somewhat to the fun (thank god I'm a tenor and not a bass hurhurhur -- try asking a bass to sing Air Supply or U2....). In the spirit of debauchery I also picked up someone's half smoked cigarette and smoked it all. Gosh did I feel naughty or what.

I was told later on that the whole system works pretty much like how you get free samples in the supermarket. You know how you walk down the aisle, and they go: "Sir, try some cheesels? You like? You want to buy? Buy 2 get one freeeeee". You taste it, and if you like it and were so inclined, you'd buy the whole packet of food home.

It's the same here. I'm told you can just invite any girl into the room (the venue was higher class in the sense that they were forbidden from entering the room unless invited by the guest). The girl would pour drinks for you (the point of it being to make you buy more overpriced liquor from the club), and engage in idle banter. If you like the "free sample", then you might be inclined to take one home for the works. If you didn't like it, then you'd pay her some nominal tip, and get rid of her. I'm told one of my friends paid one to simply shut up, stop singing and go away, 'cos she sang so terribly.

IT'S ALL SO INTERESTING AND WHAT AN EYE OPENER!!!

But I digress. At 3 am, the club closed, but in my drunken state I decided I just HAD to sing Making Love Out of Nothing At All from Air Supply, and so they put it on just for me. It seems I do the part which goes: "Everytime I see you all the rays in the sun...." rather well. To be honest, I was so drunk I wouldn't know if I was singing in key. But I do recall chiding someone for singing off key haha. Talk about sectionals all over again.

I digress again! We then decided to head down to Zouk / Phuture. One of the colleague's boyfriend drove down half drunk. We sped past a police car. It was quite scary and thrilling at the same time, but on hindsight probably not such a great idea especially since I was in the middle backseat without a seatbelt. Still. We only live once.

At whereever it was, Zouk / Phuture, we got in free due to connections and had more to drink. In my drunken state, I recall groping someone and thinking: "gosh, this is so EASY! I should be here all the time." I just don't recall who or what I groped. I only hope it wasn't a colleague. The fact that I didn't get slapped must have meant that I got away with it. BAD, BAD boy.

I finally stumbled home at around 5 am. What a night.

My friends say (and I also tell them) that I'm going through a phase.

TO BE CONTINUED!

My friend said someone sent him a document called: "Discharge cum confirmation and redeposit agreement".

The document is nothing like what it sounds. It sounds wrong. Very wrong. Hahahaha.

Money

It runs the world.

As a very wise colleague once said: "There are very few problems in the world that cannot be solved simply by throwing enough money at it."

And today, I chose to solve two of my current, pressing problems. Sometime this week, I'm going to solve yet another problem.

Hur hur.

Spending money has never been so fun.

I've eaten so many durians last night that my fart smells of durian and my nose snot smells of durian.

The smell permeates EVERYWHERE.

My clothes that are hanging out to dry smell of durian.

My cold water in the fridge smells of durian.

Heck my pillow smells of durian.

What bliss haha

I just had durian, then beer. The good news is I haven't died. The bad news is that I have this stomach ache from deep within that I can't just fart out. And I can't sleep.

Bwahaha - check out the new title to my blog.

Gimme a break, I'm going through a phase. It'll pass.

I'm sure i'll be one of those bald 45 year old men with a Porche one day.

Must. Stop. Looking. At. New. Cars. Can't. Resist. Help.

Debauchery

Debauchery. The theme and code word for this week.

In what is becoming an increasingly common occurrence, I woke up today in bed semi naked, with my clothes strewn haphazardly all over the floor, needing for a moment to register where I was. Sounds very exciting doesn't it (ok please don't barf all over my blog), but no, there was no one else in bed. My mouth also tastes like a freshly crapped in toilet bowl.

The drinking actually started on Thursday, when we drank ourselves silly in the wine shop at the basement of our building. House aka crap wine, beer, passable wine, and then decent wine, in that order. We then went back to work where I discovered that my almost married colleague (let's call this one AMC) has developed a mini-crush on my other colleague (lets call this one the "Victim"). I think I was singing Kermit the Frog's Rainbow Connection in some other colleague's room and sprouting some nonsense, but we can leave that for another day. I don't know what it is with me and cartoon-y songs when I am less than sober.

His definition of a crush is very strange. In my semidrunken state I asked him "so do you want to sleep with her". His reply was no, he just wanted to sit her down somewhere and talk to her. TALK TO HER. THE WHOLE NIGHT. What the hell right. Ok so I have different definition of what it means to have a crush.

I still find it amazing that I managed to get some work done after drinking. I'm not sure what I sent out, but it must have been ok since I didn't get any rude emails the next day from either my boss or the counterparty.

On Friday I woke up feeling a little bit fragile. The sun was so bright, and I had a slight headache. Nothing some Berocca couldn't cure. By lunchtime AMC and I had another pint of Guinness each.

At 7, we headed downstairs for another round of wine and beer where we met some of the Victim's teammates. She's got this gay teammate who's really very funny and apparently holds the wildest parties. At Christmas last year, the "admission fee" to his party was to drink punch from an ice-sculpture carved in the shape of a well endowed, naked man. The tool was hooked up to a funnel somewhere, and the drink was poured through the sculpture and you'd sort of use the tool as a straw of sorts. haha disturbing. One of his female friends turned up wearing nothing but nipple clamps (I just learnt this word yesterday!) and they thought she was hired help. Apparently she lost her nipple clamps some time during the night, and called the next day to ask if someone had found them.

Anyhow, we then went back upstairs where we opened another 2 bottles of wine that were appropriated from my boss' room. How convenient. For some strange reason, we then started talking in our really sucky Cantonese. AMC and the Victim have the most awful Cantonese accents. It really sounds like those Angmohs trying to speak it. The intonations are everywhere, and when in doubt, we'd just lapse into other dialects. But it was the most funny thing.

In line with the theme for the night (we were headed to Dragonfly thereafter to indulge in Cantopop), we forbade each other to speak anything but Cantonese. So this awful bastardisation of the beautiful dialect continued all the way downstairs into the car (someone drove), attracting a number of very disturbed stares.

My virgin entry into Dragonfly was a little disappointing -- they were singing some crappy Japanese songs! We left after 5 mins, and headed to Mono to indulge in public karaoke-ing (my first time too). There, we played drinking games (AMC again flirting with the Victim), and polished off, between the 5 of us, another bottle of MacCallum and half a bottle of Johnny Walker while belting out cheenapok songs on the public karaoke. Ok not me, since I couldn't read the Chinese words. I had to wait my turn for crappy English songs from Air Supply. Hopefully I didn't go too badly out of tune haha, but when I get drunk I can sing very high notes. We put in some U2 and Bryan Adams songs, but it didn't get round to our turn. At 4.30 am we decided to call it a night and crawled downstairs to get ourselves in a cab home.

I think the night of debauchery doesn't compare too favourably with RedRapture's night out to indulge in orchestral pleasure, listening to works from Chopin and Smetana. How cultural haha.

Jamon Iberico!!!

One of the greatest joys of travelling is being able to sample foods from all over the world.

When I was at a supermarket in Spain last year, I wondered why it was that the price of ham ("Jamon" in Spanish) ranged from 8 euros / kg to 200 euros / kg. They certainly looked the same except that that the more expensive one looked darker. Kind of diseased actually. And so we bought a bit of both. The first set cost about 2 euros, and the other one about 20 euros.

It took only one bite to immediately tell the difference, and the difference was vast. The cheap one tasted flat - salty, meaty and smoky at first bite, but the taste disappears after a few bites, like chewing gum. Perfect for a sandwich with many ingredients.

The more expensive one tasted bland and subdued at first, but as you chew it, more and more flavour comes out. It was like a chewing gum that kept yielding flavour! Delicious meaty, smoky flavour, with a wonderful aftertaste. Perfect with cheese or grapes. I found out later that it takes years of air drying to cultivate this taste, and hence the price and colour.

Since I got back I've not been able to order ham in any restaurant. We tried once at Al Forno's (granted, it's an Italian restaurant, but Italian ham's supposed to be similar), and were so disappointed by the flat and bland flavour, that we just swore never to eat ham in a restaurant again. And that dish cost 30+ bucks.

And so I read with great delight, that Jamon Iberico is now approved by the AVA for import into Singapore!!!!! I can't wait to get my hands on some. It's the Mao Shan Wang (a premium durian) equivalent for hams. I'm salivating just thinking about it.

I doubt I'll find it in my local NTUC though.

Word of advice, don't bother with the other ham that they're bringing in: Jamon Serrano. It's bland.

Trusty Getz

Over the weekend I drove my trusty Getz up to Malacca, expecting it to die on me halfway. I was pleasantly surprised that the car was still stable at 140 km/h. What's more surprising is that it could even reach that speed in the first place with its puny 1100cc enging!!! Go Getz!

It's a rather expensive trip though: Toll: RM 60. Petrol: RM 90. Money to grandpa and aunt: RM 300. Still, it was fun, and I stuffed my face silly on damn good food.

I am a fat fuck.

Bizarre

I had the most bizarre dream last night.

For some reason or other, I was due to get married to this already married colleague (let's call this one MC1), but for some reason we were in Malaysia and I couldn't get some of the documents in order so I said ok let me go back to Singapore and get them over the weekend and come back on Monday (it was then Friday).

Meanwhile, back in Singapore, I met up with married colleague 2 (henceforth MC2), and for some strange reason I ended up proposing to MC2. We were bouncing around all delirious and happy and making out etc, until married colleague 3 and married colleague 4 (MC3 and MC4) started tsk-tsking me for (1) dumping MC1 at the altar and (2) not having the courtesy to call MC1. Boy did I want to kill MC3 and MC4 then. Talk about cold water.

So I called MC1, who, as expected was absolutely furious, since she'd already dumped the husband for me, and then was left at the altar so to speak. I can't remember what she said, but I remember shivering with cold that was due to either (1) the fact that hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, or (2) the aircon turned on the compressor mode and funneled a blast of cold air into the room and hence the shivering.

Along the way I met a number of other colleagues who all gave me disapproving and unbelieving stares, and I was thinking "what's your problem???". I'm not sure if I should be more concerned about having immoral dreams about colleagues, or the fact that I'm so blase about the immorality that I would think "what's your problem???" to disapproving colleagues, i.e. I'm amoral.

So there you have it, I present to you: Mr. Geek aka Mr. Amoral (spelling?). Destroyer of marriages. Dumper of the objects of conquest. Paragon of amorality.

But oh boy, what a fun dream it was. I only wish it didn't have to end when the damn alarm sounded. Does anyone have similar dreams about their colleagues I wonder.

Maybe it all means I need to spend less time in the office.

The Spendthrift

I've been spending money like water recently. I just took my team out for dinner at Borgo's to sort of thank them for taking over my files while I was traversing Nepal and uncontactable while they slaved over my files.

Dinner was quite forgettable. I don't know why -- it seems as if my taste buds are changing very fast. The first time I went to this place I thought it was great. However the second time I went, I found fault with many things -- the quality of the bread, the quality of the olive oil used, the tastelessness of the ham. Hmmm.....is it true that coffee destroys the taste buds, or are my tastebuds becoming increasingly demanding? I can't be that demanding since I eat economic rice on an almost daily basis. I find myself increasingly thinking that if I'm eating out, either I eat properly, or just don't bother, and that means either I eat at hawker centres, or go all out and eat truly tasty stuff.

It's the same with wines. When I first started, a $30 bottle of wine from the wine shop below my office was great, but one year later when I revisit the same bottle, I find it increasingly undrinkable. We had some house wines the other day at the shop, and it was simply quite undrinkable. I don't know why.

Anyway, bearing that in mind, we ordered more decent wines at the restaurant and 2 GREAT bottles of wine. We started with a Pinot Grigio, which was a very flavourful white wine. Slightly sweet, good aftertaste. That was promptly polished off before the main course arrived. We then coveted this bottle of wine from a table full of angmohs but were told that it was their own bottle. Gagh. It's fine. We looked around and saw another group of rather distinguished looking old men, and asked the waiter what they were having. The price tag for that was a little shocking at first, going into 3 digits, but by god it was worth every cent. The flavours were incredible. The aftertaste. The smell. The way it just went right down the throat. Incredible. It must be one of the best red wines I've ever had so far. I don't think I can go back to the red wines at Cold Storage....sigh.

The final bill came up to about $500 for 6 people, but given the great time I had (I have very funny teammates and I'd like to think we get along very well), it was a very enjoyable evening. We went to one of their house after that just to look see (he just moved in), and I am struck by a desire to move to a bigger apartment. Me. Puny. House. Need. Bigger. House.

So now I feel like a bigger house, a cooler car (have been coveting for months), and a wine cellar and collection in the new house.

Talk about extravagant.

I need a promotion.

Moods and Boredom

I have mood swings in the office. My teammates regularly email my roommate to ask, in the morning: "How's the weather". If I'm grouchy, the answer will be "oh it's stormy in here. Avoid at all costs". If it's fine, then "it's all sunshine". Do men have PMS too? But why am I not entitled to feel grouchy?

It seems to extend to work. On days I feel extremely hardworking. On other days, when the subject matter bores me, I just pass out looking at the same paragraph over and over again. I've just finished a deal that, just 2 years ago, made me pass out and hyperventilate. This time, it was like "ho hum not again. "

Lack of motivation. I think the problem is that I get bored very easily. And mental routine bores me. I think I do my best work when it borders (but not quite crosses) on chartering new territory. It's that fine line between stretching the brain and feeling utterly incompetent.

The boredom extends to my interaction with people. This is probably not a good thing (I acknowledge it), but it's just how I feel. Intellectually challenged people bore me, and if they bore me, I get irritated easily, whether it's work related or socially related.

Because I get bored with stupid people, but at the same time acknowledge that I'm really not all that clever, I get very insecure dealing with what I perceive to be very clever people because our positions are then reversed, and I wonder if they get bored with me. I think it's a combination of the fear of me looking stupid, and dealing with people more brilliant than me, that drives me to prove myself at work.

But anyway on the work front everything seems peachy at the moment. I keep getting dropped hints by this person that person and the other that I'm gonna get a promotion, but of course nothing's certain until it's done, though this is not imminent. On my part I wonder if I'm up for all that responsibility. It's scary - I'm expected to manage all these people when I can barely manage my own affairs. And then they come turn to me to ask questions for which I don't have the answers. What am I supposed to do? It scares me and keeps me awake at times, thinking about all that additional responsibility. The giants before me whose footsteps I'd walk. Yipes.

We'll just have to take one day at a time.

Attractions?

Today's papers talked about the free / cheap "attractions" that one could go to if one were not inclined to blow 100 bucks on the various other tourist attractions.

I'm thinking gee, they kinda suck.

I went to Night Safari on Saturday night for the first time to walk off the huge dinner at the Keppel Club where we stuffed our faces with very good Peranakan food at this restaurant called "PeraMakan". We didn't expect the servings to be so ginormous, and it was hard for the two of us to finish it.

Night Safari is pretty cool -- a little on the pricey end, esp those soft toys. Bought this frog for the boss. It must be made of gold or something. It's one of those things that I'd go once for and not go back again. It's a nice place to take visitors to though.

List of free or almost-free "attractions":
===============================

OLD FORD FACTORY

HAW PAR VILLA

GOAT FARM -HAY DAIRIES

FARMART CENTRE

JURONG FROG FARM

CHOA CHU KANG SWIMMING COMPLEX

ZHENGHUA NATIONAL ARCHERY RANGE

ORCHIDVILLE SINGAPORE

MARINA CITY PARK (EAST COAST PARK)

PULAU UBIN (CHEK JAWA)

SENTOSA (SILOSO BEACH)

Elephant, uhm, seed

As I read this on Straits Times I thought about how fortunate I am to have a deskbound job....

"Two weeks ago, [Chawang, the Night Safari elephant] and Sang Wira donated their sperm - a first for Night Safari - to Sydney's Taronga Zoo to help boost its elephant-breeding programme.

For Chawang, that exercise had been even more trying than his wooing of Gambir.

...

Veterinarian Sonja Luz, 35, got the short straw: she had to physically stimulate Chawang to release the sperm. But the German doctor has been training for her task in the past few months.

'It's a bit like an aerobic workout. I was aching after that, but I went for a massage,' she deadpanned."

Y.U.C.K.S....

Oops I am tipsy. Again.

The Fuel Ban

1. Malaysia's fuel ban for foreign vehicles

Malaysia reportedly spent RM40 billion on fuel subsidies last year. At current prices and consumption, they estimate RM 53 billion will need to be spent in fuel subsidies this year. In terms of percentage of the entire subsidy (I guess this would mainly concern food), it forms some 93+% of the total subsidy bill.

It's no surprise that they decided to do something about it. This has of course caused a ruckus both by the petrol station owners in JB and from Singaporean residents. I read with derision the letters to the ST Forum on this issue. Most of them are against the fuel ban citing some purportedly good reason or other. I just can't understand the fuss.

It's one thing to subsidize consumption within the country. It's quite another to subsidize consumption for use OUTSIDE the country, which is essentially what it is. Singaporean cars go into JB, pump petrol, and go back to Singapore. The subsidized petrol is bought for use outside Malaysia. I don't know of any country in the world allowing tax monies to be used to subsidize foreigners' purchase of a consumable for consumption outside the country.

For example, would it be justified for Singapore public libraries to open borrowing of books to foreigners not working in Singapore / not resident here to borrow books to bring back to Malaysia? For the same reason, library membership is not open to non-resident persons. Otherwise, Singaporean tax money would be used to subsidize non-resident persons' reading habits. They haven't contributed to the coffers, why should they be entitled to the benefit from the same coffers?

On the Malaysian side, they all deserve to be closed down. Every sale they make and profit they make by selling petrol to foreign cars is essentially funded by tax payers. The janitor on the street, the teacher, the hawker centre etc is funding the petrol station's profit with no benefit to the country.

Nonsense really.

Children of Nepal

The address of this blog is "beerandchoir" reflecting at one time what my 2 biggest passions in life were. However, I now no longer sing, nor do I drink much beer at all.

Does this call for a change?

Ravings of a Mac lunatic

Can I just rave about my iMac again? The screen is just so incredibly beautiful. 24" of poor orgasmic goodness for the eyes. Unlike my crappy Samsung screen in the office (of which I have two in a dual display set up) -- the text doesn't blur in one part of the screen, the colour doesn't change in one part of the screen but not the next, and it's just incredibly sharp. 1920 x 1200 of pure pixel joy. Oh iMac I love you.

It was a great deal too (sort of), at only S$2100 refurbished. I'm a great fan of refurbished products, have bought quite a number and they've all worked fine and looked new. I save S$700 off a new version with slightly better processor and ram and bus speed, but really the specs are fine for my uses. It's the screen and all-in-one factor that I'm interested in.

Plus my model comes with Apple Remote whereas the new ones don't. I realise these things are universal -- when I pressed volume up on my Apple Remote, it simultaneously woke up my iMac from sleep and volume up-ed my Mac mini.

Have I raved enough?

No. I haven't.

I also just love how the sleep function just works. On my stupid Windows PC, I would close the lid on the laptop, and yes it'd go to sleep in a very noisy way like a bawling baby. Unfortunately, when I open it again, it seems as if the laptop has gone into an irreversible coma. It doesn't want to wake up. Hence the need to reset.

I hope my laptop dies then I can buy a new one.

Here's something to contemplate while we get caught up in our materialistic lives. Homeless kids in Nepal

Mr. Grumps

I am afraid I have nothing but grouses last week. I am turning into a very grumpy old man.

First, I found out that it is incredibly difficult to get one's children into a "good" primary school. As a parent, you have to either (i) volunteer in the PTA since your kid is TWO years old, (ii) donate a bundle of cash (it seems one school was asking for S$40,000!!!!!) to be CONSIDERED on the balloting, (iii) buy a house near the school in question, (iv) have a member of the immediate family having studied there or (v) pull strings. One of the parents I spoke to was a bit disappointed 'cos she lives in Kovan where there are no "good schools" nearby. I told her that it doesn't really matter what primary school they go to, but was then promptly lambasted by my colleagues for giving wrong advice. Personally, I didn't go to any of the right school at all, nor did my brother or sister, and we ended up fine, but I guess I was lucky.

Colleagues told me that in Singapore it's all about meeting the right people, and letting the right tide carry you through life instead of having to work against the tide, which is why there are tons of dumb people from the right schools who get into all the right places. I can think of a couple of ex-colleagues here.

How does one find that tide? You find the "right" school. Meritocracy my foot. Pfft. It begins from young, and money begets money.

Second, the abomination that was Prince Caspian. No doubt this was slightly better than the first movie, but crappy nonetheless. Is it too much to ask for an ounce of originality? The whole thing looked like a Lord of the Rings ripoff with different sequences. My friend was just telling me a synopsis of the story: They get chased to the river by a bunch of evil characters a la LOTR. But then instead of getting washed away at the beginning by the river, they get washed away at the end. Battle scene - looks familiar? it's the same castle from LOTR.

No originality in the characters either -- why do the Telmarines sound like Spaniards? And their weapons -- from the Spanish Inquisition. Spears. Fierce masks a la Spanish Conquisadors (spelling?).

And oh, the Christian allegories. Ok granted that was in the book, but it comes more to life in movies. It's actually a lot worse in the last book - the last Battle, where the whole thing smacks of the whole Crusades thing where the Christians are the good righteous guys and the Muslims are the evil guys. Sample script (not sure if it's word for word - probably not)

"Lucy, why do you think it is that I can't see Aslan?"
"Just because you can't see him, it doesn't mean he's not there. You have to believe....believe in Aslan"

"Aslan will save us, he will lead the way"

I'm glad I didn't have to pay for the movie. Got a free ticket, but unfortunately was seated right next to one of the bosses. How weird was that.

I had two more grouses but can't remember what they were.

The only good thing that happened last week was going for the very excellent Prego Brunch Buffet. The food was really not bad - best Gnocchi I've eaten. With a 1-for-1 offer, it comes up to only S$30 a head. Very good value considering the type of food you get.

I've also managed to now connect my Mac Mini to my TV and Hifi. It's great, I get to watch all my movies on the big screen, though since I've now got a 24" iMac, the size is only marginally bigger. Still, when I finally get my study room done up and move the iMac there, I'll still have a mini-theatre machine hooked up to the TV.

Urgh it's Monday. I hate Mondays.

Imagine

I discovered this song only recently while watching the American Idol finals. The lyrics are really meaningful, and I found myself listening to it over and over again. I also found out that David Archuleta's version is almost identical to the version sung by Eva Cassidy.

Anyhow, here's the lyrics to the second stanza

Imagine no possessions
I wonder if you can
No need for greed or hunger
A brotherhood of man
Imagine all the people
Sharing all the world

You may say that I'm a dreamer
But I'm not the only one
I hope someday you'll join us
And the world will live as one

American Idol 7

I happened to catch the American Idol marathon last Saturday on cable, and was quite hooked from there (I didn't even know we were into Season 7!).

I was particularly impressed with David Archuleta and not so much with David Cook. I thought his interpretation of "Think of Me" from Phantom of the Opera was simply superb, as were a number of his other songs from Mariah Carey week and Neil Diamond week.

I missed the finals on TV, but thanks to youtube, managed to hear their final performance tonight, and it was amazing. The songs were fantastic. David A's "Imagine" gave me goosebumps, and David C's rendition of U2's "I still haven't found what I'm looking for" was also really good.

I thought David A's age worked against him -- some of the songs he picked were really soulful and deep songs, but he was probably too young to convey that depth of emotion. If he were, say 5 years older, the songs would have probably sounded 2x better.

David C definitely came across as the more soulful one, and I read later that his brother is suffering from advanced brain cancer, which is really quite sad. His final song, "Time of My Life", which he sang after being announced the winner, was quite touching.

What a great finale show. Makes me wish I could sing well. Sigh. Maybe I should go karaoke

More acquisitions

Sighhh.....$$$$

Say hello to uhm....sorry i'm not creative enough to come up with a name for these things.

(Tech) Geek

The bug has struck again. I now hanker after a Macbook / Macbook Pro. Somebody stop me please. I don't need one, but I want one. What will I do with my Mac Mini?

I previously reported that my screen was dying, and that yay I can buy a new one. However, it must have read my complaint because now it's working fine again, which means I still can't retire it. Why won't you die goddammit.

The bike's great, although it's been so hot recently that I've only cycled out once. It's a real fine piece of machinery -- when you pedal it makes this whooshing noise that suggests very little friction in the bearings at the wheels, as a result of which you can go quite fast while pedalling quite effortlessly. I'm reminded of the turbines on the Boeing airplanes. If you've ever seen one you'll realise why Rolls Royce make such fine engines. There is so little friction in the turbines, that even after the engine stops, the turbines keep rotating on and on without much sound.

East Coast Parkway is not really conducive to cycling. There are so many people there, and I feel like strangling those rollerbladers, though someone has pointed out to me that they have as much right to the track as cyclists do. Point taken, but it still doesn't stop me from wanting to strangle them, especially when they hog the whole track. The pedestrians also need a good dose of strangling, since they frequently stroll on the cycling track. AND they have the gall to complain that cyclists cycle on pedestrian tracks. What do I do in return? Why, I cycle on their pedestrian track of course. They have much better views of the beach.

The beach is quite interesting -- lots of activities going on; it's really developed a lot since my VJ days. Plenty of beautiful people to ogle at, especially skimpily dressed roller bladers.

I cycled past the national sailing centre, and seriously thought of signing up for a sailing course. The idea of sailing alone in the sea with the sun and sand in your face, away from society (ok well, 50m away from the beach) with noone to bug you is quite appealing. Am still contemplating. One of the criteria for joining the course is: "must be physically fit". Hmmmm. I suppose that can be worked on. Might be a great way to meet new people too.

Speaking of meeting new people, a colleague's farewell drinks on Friday was held at Velvet. It's quite a cool place, and I can see how people go there to pick up someone for a Friday / Sat night quickie. Plenty of beautiful people. This ang moh chick was sitting alone at a counter staring at the dance floor wistfully. I wonder if that's a sign that she wanted to be picked up. I promised myself to go google "guide to bar (politics?)" when I got home, but didn't get around to doing it.

Velvet was also where I got drunk so bad for the first time I had to puke, though fortunately so it was only the cab stopped outside my house and I opened the cab door that I stuck my head out of the cab floor and puked on the road. The Long Island Tea(s) did me in. I'm sure the cab driver was relieved I didn't puke in his cab.