The Tribe Has Spoken


As the new world order was finally revealed, her face remained devoid of affect - as it often is these days - though I suspect more from the increasingly longer time it takes incoming information to find its way through the sleep-deprived haze to intelligence central, and probably longer still to activate the facial muscles.

Later, she would oscillate between lip-curling distaste and proffers of assistance - repeatedly and insistently, disturbingly so.

Another interesting week ahead, I'm sure.


Finding White


Samantha: I found a grey hair!

Carrie: In the food?

Samantha: In my hair - DOWN THERE! Well, what am I gonna do? It's a disaster!

Carrie: "It's not a disaster, it's all part of getting older. You said that yourself."

Samantha: "My eyes getting old is one thing. But this - THIS - cannot get old! What will Smith think?"

Carrie: "Smith is well aware of the fact that you are older."

Samantha: "Old-ER! Not old! And THIS is old! No man wants to fuck Grandma's pussy!"

Carrie: "Oh god, this is a child's birthday party..."

Samantha: "I was going to tweeze but if you pluck it, six more would come to its funeral! Well, that's what they say."

~ Sex and the City, Season 6, Episode 12


~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~


Yeppp. I'm definitely OLD.

Sigh.






All Hail The King


You can read the reviews for yourself, I'm sure.

But just being there for the peformance by Royal Shakespeare Company was an absolute EXPERIENCE. It was like being there for The Real Thing. Simply AWESOME.

And seeing and hearing Ian McKellen AKA Gandalf AKA Magneto in the flesh was such a special treat, if not then, the way he held the stage with his magic and how the character of King Lear came alive.

I HAVE to catch RSC again... sometime... somewhere...


And Why I Shouldn't Talk Behind People's Backs


I boarded Mohammad's (so it read on the name plate) cab at Fullerton and huddled myself in my cardigan for the long - and cold - journey back to Changi Village. Though it was past midnight and I was dying for some hot food (I did not have time for dinner in the rush into town to beat the jam) and fluids, it was not hard to stay awake - I had a 'funny' feeling about my long-haired Mat driver and I was a little worried about the lonely Loyang stretch en route into Changi Village.

So I was relieved when the cab finally pulled into the lit and already happening street. Late-night suppers were in full swing and the trannies were strutting their everything, everywhere, in cut-down-to-there and cut-up-to-here barely-anything-left get-ups.

I was feeling chirpier at the thought of joining my supper companions in a short while and attempted some small talk with Mohammad.

"Wah, here a lot of tranvestites hor..."

Silence.

"But funny ah, here no ang mohs leh. So I suppose the transvestites cater to the locals?"

Nervous laughter. "Wellll... mmm... nowadays people all crazy lah. That's why all got these problems with HIV," Mohammad ventured hesitantly.

"Yah lor."

The cab came to a stop next to the hawker centre. The lights came on and Mohammad turned.

OMG.

Shhhiiii......

FFFFF......

Slowly.

Takes.

Foot.

Out.

Of.

Mouth.

My long-haired driver with his plucked eyebrows and raised cheekbones smiled at me coyly.

To his (or her???) credit, Mohammad remained gracious (like the lady I believe he would one day become) throughout the remaining exchange as we completed our transaction. He seemed to have gotten over the initial awkwardness and even commented that some of these working girls (or boys???) were quite stunning, to which I hurriedly agreed and then qualified that I really did not have anything against tranvestites (thank god I had not at anytime used the slang 'bapok'!!!), all the while pretending like I had not realised my boo-boo even as I was inwardly frantically spitting dead skin and toe nails out of my mouth.

Where's a portable hole-in-the-ground when you need one???






In Retrospect


"In the 5th lunar month from 19 June to 18 July 2007, you must beware your superior if she is an "aunty". Spend more time with her and talk to her about mundane affairs and gain her favour. Do not compete with her. Do not overperform or outshine her or she will be envious of you and cause you harm. Praise her. Do not criticise her. If it is an "uncle", even criticisms will result in more favours for you. Do not go about your work independently, seek their opinions and respect their opinions. Your wealth will be good. Watch out for your birthdate or anything related to your mother."


~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~


Nod fervently.






Extremists "R" Us


A contributor in today's Straits Times declares that "The views I have regarding the current controversy of decriminalising gay sex is purely personal. However, I will not be surprised if other like-minded Singaporean mothers share my views..."

You mean, like-minded Singaporean Christian mothers, don't you?

"...legalising something that is not right does not make it right, does it?"

Well, no. But neither does the mere act of opening your mouth make something wrong.






Rolling Out The Gay Carpet


"I've been looking for a gay bar..."

On national TV - and in Singapore - no less. Now that's a novel way of getting your message out to as many people as possible that you are looking to get laid! Laugh!






One Woman's Trash,
Another Woman's (or Man's) Treasure


"With Swiss women rising up the ranks in the workplace, he observed that some Swiss men fear powerful women. And in turn, Swiss women are perhaps too demanding, and some even seek a trophy husband, he added.

'They want the 100 per cent husband. He has to be rich, to have a good job, to be good-looking, to have a nice car and so on.'"

~ "Looking for love? More Swiss finding it overseas." The Straits Times. 15 July 2007


And so, even as women everywhere are beginning to look to graze in greener foreign pastures, is it not inconceivable that they are quite possibly picking up someone else's 'rejects' - relatively speaking of course. How ironical is that?

But, as the saying goes, one woman's trash, another woman's, OR man's - as The Sister's Gay Boyfriend's equally gay friend, N declared: "There is no such thing as a REAL (that is, heterosexual) man." - treasure. Boggle.


~ ~ ~ ~ ~


In other news, The Dalmatian Aunt's only child is back in town again and so I hear, trying to get the family to catch this.

CirCe thinks I've got a new movie-buddy-in-the-making there. I told CirCe that for the sake of the family's continued sanity, she should keep her cousin away from me. Heh. Heh.






Well Done



I absolutely love the smell of grilled capsicums. Spicy tuna pasta for breakfast tomorrow. Yummy.


~ ~ ~ ~ ~


It has finally arrived - in writing - and the edict will be delivered at the upcoming pow-wow. So there.

And as if a sign of things to come (cross fingers), let's just say it's really nice to go through the rest of the day feeling the lurrve all around. Heh.


~ ~ ~ ~ ~


Belatedly...

Woot!!! I will get to watch King Lear afterall!!! (This, after taking too long to figure out if I had enough of a wallet left to burn another hole, and then finding only $250 tickets left - and no friends left who were willing to pay $250 "to watch old man be mean to daughter" - and shortly after that, NO TICKETS left, not even $400 seats. Gaaah!!!)

Someone had to drop their tickets and The Stapler, bless her hooves, snapped them up :-D Plus, The Master granted me a few hours away from the weekend pow-wow to catch my "atas" play. (Excuseee meee, what you mean I "atas"? So very not, ok? I watch lots of low-brow movies too - you know, campy B-grade exploitation movies like Grindhouse!!! Heh. Heh. Heh. Are those retching sounds I hear???)






Rated "G" - for "Gross"!!!


And also "Grindhouse".

The first in the double-feature, "Planet Terror", was particularly gruesome and stomach-churning (seeing as to how my midnight snack began to taste funny) - bloody abscesses, people being mauled and eaten alive by zombies, exploding heads, assorted flying limbs, various body parts being blown off, melting why-is-there-so-much-blood-urrrgh flesh, etc-more-blood etc-more-gore etc-more-disgusting-stuff - yeah, you get the idea.

BUT, it was also hysterically funny, in an over-the-top B-movie sort of way - with generous dollops of cheese.

I would watch it again - because it was really funny - but I don't think my stomach can take it. Heh.

If however, you prefer more family-oriented entertainment, there's always Wild Hogs. Just as entertaining and good for laughs - and easier on the stomach too. Heh.






Can't Get This Outta My Head

"And then PoP! goes my heart..."

And oh yes, Hugh Grant sure can mooove those hips. Heh. Heh. Heh. Absolutely hilarious as an ageing has-been in Music and Lyrics, especially with that shaggy hair and flouncy frilly shirt and cuffs! Look out too for the parody of the sexed-up teen pop princess with the oh-so-bad-but-oh-so-funny dance moves. Just too hysterical :-D

Which, made up for a rather uninspired Hannibal Rising and Not-So-Fantastic Four.

Anyway.

I was intending to get away from the blog for a few days and catch up on sleep...

But.

Today, someone decided to take an interest in whether I was STILL doing yoga. She wanted to know if I knew "what kind of yoga" I did and if anyone ever explained the "effects". Did I know that the postures we did were effectively a practice of Hinduism - a worship of some Hindu snake goddess? (Good god!!! Oh, I see. So we are back here again...)

And truthfully, I said I did not think most of us did yoga with THAT in mind - we did yoga for health reasons.

But ah, that was precisely the problem - we had all been "deceived" into worshipping this Hindu snake goddess. (Whaaaa...)

According to one of those you-know-what-sort-of-talks she had just attended, it mattered not what our intent was or what we believed, but that we actually DID these postures and so practised Hinduism. (Christ!!!)

And did I know that if I did yoga long enough, it would open my "third eye" and I would start to see unnatural things. (Okayyy. Well, I have been doing this for a few years. I sure as hell do not see a big ugly mole growing on my forehead. In fact, the only unnatural thing I last remembered seeing was just in front of me.)

I remained decidedly uninterested in engaging in a pointless one-sided religious tautologous non-exchange.

I was not so much offended by the yoga-is-evil spiel but the religious insensitivity and presumptuousness. For crying out loud, I'm not even a Christian! I mean, do you see Buddhists going around telling Christians they should give up all their wants and desires (and trust me, that would mean jumping on EVERYONE) so that they can escape the cycle of rebirth and avoid returning as a Berkshire pig or force-fed duck (okay, that would probably be me since I refuse to give up foie gras), and hopefully, one day attain that enlightened state of Nirvana???

Seriously, what gives???

Unfortunately, she happens to be, let's just say, someone I cannot afford to offend - though it would have been really nice if that was reciprocated. And so I shall continue to assume my brains-melted-by-too-much-yoga-the-devil-got-to-her-first face if and should the topic be brought up again.

Ommm!