Nice. Being nice. We all wish to be treated nicely. JS once told me, "We are too nice le, sometimes we got taken for granted and such,". Yah, its kinda true. The lopside of being nice. But well, we do want to be treated nicely too, don't we? Being nice includes being generous when it comes to paying. But as much as we would like to be open-minded and such, giving the rare treat on the few occasions, we have no wish to be your ATM. Thanks for being zi-dong. Or entertaining in parties. Some of us have the uncanny ability to entertain and please the crowd. Laugh and laugh the audience does, but do they appreciate? Hardly. We got ourselves into such a stage where people don't take us seriously anymore, even if we are trying hard to be serious for a second. We only have ourselves to blame, don't we? Maybe. That's perhaps also the reason why Gurmit Singh shouldn't be Idol host after his PCK stint. Or being nice to gals. But we hear gals comparing their bfs. "Some nice bf you got there, yea?". "Well, but he ain't got a Jaguar or Merc", "He's nice, but he's kinda dim-witted", "He's nice, but then, I wish he's more romantic". Slap them please. We hear gals lamenting about how rare species nice men are. But are nice men really top of their wanted list? It appears not. A nice guy with not-so-average (with that, I mean in a bad way) looks? Any takers? "Oh well, he has to have some talents that will turn me on". Oh is it? "Erm, he can't look that bad, can he? At least David Tao or Jay Chou's looks lar". Slap them. These gals are probably the reason why Ou De Yang is still a mystery. He probably has a cock face that will screw his album sales. He's an awesome talent, but no, you've got to have at least David or Jay's looks, you know? How about this? "Well he's nice, but he's a short-lived beast on the bed. Keke." And what does this make you? A whore? Fuck. There are a whole lot of reasons to reject nice guys. From religion (I'm speaking about Christians here) to being too boring. Lack of nice guys around? HA. There are aplenty. Some gals' eyes are just sticking elsewhere. I seriously don't understand the irony. Some gals whining about the lack of nice guys but also wishing that more cute guys, who look ang moh and speak a not-so-detestable slang, exist. Nice guys and cute guys don't go together, unfortunately. Gals bitching around, gossiping at the cute guy, the cool guy and the suave guy. Commenting about how nice it would be to date them, daydreaming about the sight of walking with them, hand in hand. For all you know, these cute guys might be watching some cheap porn flicks or engaging in cybersex the very moment you are reading this. How about that for cuteness 10/10? Most likely, these cute guys would be having their guys' talk, discussing with their brudders about how chio you are. A compliment that you would take anytime, isn't it. But hey, you are only as chio as the next chio-er chiobu comes along. Stop gloating, would you? What am I ranting about? You ask. Well, my ex-neighbour just got ditched. Came to me as a shocking news. One hellava nice guy he is, and I was even thinking about attending his wedding dinner and such. And now this? Worse, the reason was plain parents' objections. Harlow? Are we in some ancient dynasty or what? Please knock some sense into these people. Nice guy comes knocking and they reject with all sort of reasons that make me laugh. HA. Fuck my tagboard if you disagree. Apparently I knew little about the complications involved, but I felt angry with the pain my friend has to suffer. Hey, if you are reading, I hope to have lightened your mood. My heart's with you, man.

Today I worked the umpteenth odd-job of my holidays. And who did I chance upon? The well-mannered gal from Impresario, star of the hit entry, 'If I Could Be Somebody For A Day". I'm now the perfect spokesman for the phrase, "It's a small world". It true is. Or why would we meet again to become colleagues? And at a job which I almost rejected at the last minute due to its 'commission-based' monetary benefit. But as Fate has it, I would go to the pathetic promotion job. Fate is definitely at work, cruelly toying with my life and deciding who I would meet, when I would rather meet someone else now. And so we chatted, and joked, and chatted, and so on and so forth, but the bottomline remains the same - she remains attached and I continue to stand no chance. And so why meet? In the end, I took it easy - I always take things easy - We were cool about things, and we behaved friendly. We took the MRT home together, since we lived in the same district. We said goodbye, and I asked "Hp? Unchanged?". "Yup!!" was the reply. Not exactly an excited response as the exclaimation marks implied. No shit like "Give me a call" or "Meet up someday" after the "Yup". It was just "Yup". Plain old "Yup". The kind of "Yup" which suggested, "Why are you even asking such a cock question?" And yah, still no MSN. It was our 7th occurance. No harm waiting for another one, yah?

Brazil just equalized. Fuck my results. Its not at all bad but then I screwed myself. Complacency certainly crept in towards the end, ever since I started this blog. Fuck this blog. I am so AC Milan. Fuck all~!!

NABEI!!!

Being the superhero is tiring, but never am I going to forget my roots and forsake my friends, especially the friends who are also in the superhero line. The day had finally came for the finale dinner of the superheroes of Block 45. The delay, largely due to the troublesome romance that somehow entangled one of us, was rather irritating. But then, a hero's archilles' heel is always the beauty that enchants. Or is it so? Or am I crapping to sound chim? Back to the point. The dinner. You see, superheroes aren't lonesome creatures who fight crimes and ah-bengs all day long, 24/7. No socializing, no play, no nothing. No, that's greatly distorted in the movies. We do socialize. We meet for dinners and shopping, just like Ryu would meet E Honda for sushi and Batman would go lingerie shopping with Superman. Bottomline - we have friends. Over the course of this increasingly boliao-cum-childish-cum-ridiculous blog, I will introduce some of my superhero friends. Some less capable, mostly less handsome.

Name: H.G. Wong Superhero name: Zi Mo Cha Superpower: Shrieking Fingernails Detail: Zi Mo Cha has incredibly long fingernails. They are grown for a reason, mind you. A reason you might have guessed by now. Or not, and you are a moron. But fear none, everything unfolds in my blog.

Zi Mo Cha works in the 24-hour Cheers convenience store for $4/hr. Citizens always thought that superheroes like us have unlimited resources. That is so untrue because at the end of the day, we are still residents of an expensive society. I know, movies always depict us as people with limitless money. They had overrated us. We are not. We don't print cash. We need to eat. We need to take public transport. I know we travel like Flash, but we would very much prefer to take the public transport whenever possible. So after the dinner, I walked Zi Mo Cha back to his store for his night shift. We discussed politics and the crime rate of the city when we heard a cry at the corner of the shop. Naturally, we would walk over to discover the commotion, but no, we were too lazy for that. Instead, we used our see-through-everything eye power to capture the scene. Well, we don't use that to peep while girls bathe. We are hell too moral for that. We saw one ah-beng sitting on top of another. He had a rusty pen knife in one hand. It was a tricky situation that required a superhero effort. Unfortunately, I had some drastic abrasion on one of my thighs. Fortunately though, I had Zi Mo Cha with me. I absolved myself of all complications, and watched on as Zi Mo Cha harmonized the conflict. "Mess around in my store, you must not," said Zi Mo Cha in Yoda-like fashion while opening a new packet of potato chips. Ah beng was still sitting on top of the other. He started to strangle the poor kid. "Strangling not occur in my store, I must insist!!" Zi Mo Cha commented unclearly as he munched the chips. "Shut up you muthafucker!! Mind your own fucking b..." Ah beng could never complete his sentence. He felt his nose and could feel liquid. Blood, I saw. Zi Mo Cha had just scratched his disgusting and unfashionable fingernails against his rapidly peeling chalkboard skin. I summoned an impenetrable bubble around me to protect myself. When it all ended, I walked over to ah beng and offered him my tissue. He sat there, unmoved. My tissue, unused. He was dead. I offloaded him and crept up to the victim on the floor. He was dead too. Zi Mo Cha had killed the man he was supposed to save. His intentions were great, but his ability hardly so. Sigh, I wished I didn't had the abrasion. But then again, we are still super.

Pardon me. I'm having a blogger's block. My first. Partly due to the looming results. God bless me with 4As this Friday. Pleaasssseeee. Largely due to work. Had been working with HSBC for the past few days. Distributing apples, promoting financial plans, interacting with the crowd and pleasing customers with gifts. These duties hardly match up, but that's what I do for a miserly 5 bucks an hour anyway. "Ladies and gentlemen, here we have for you is Financial Wellness with HSBC. Just fill in some particulars and you stand to win away our attractive prizes, as well as get a free 10-minute complementary massage from our therapists. What's more, you might just be the lucky one to walk away with our grand prize, a trip for two to New York City~!!" I sounded fake. You dipped into the box, grabbed a colour ping pong ball out and showed it excitedly to me. I looked at you. If you are old and poor and possibly a gian-peng fellow who had your luck tried the previous 2 days, you are most likely to be unlucky (again) and walk away with a pen (again!). If you are rich and well-dressed (or chio), you get Takashimaya, Pizza Hut or Haagen Daz vouchers. Whoa!

Sidenote: I know you got yourself a pen, Audrey. You exclaimed with shock on your face. You probably knew about the farce of it all. But fret not, you are not un-chio. I tried to give you the voucher. My friend was simply blind, thats all. HA.

But anyway, lucky draw ain't lucky at all. You could have all the luck in the world but we'd still give you a pen. You could break a mirror in the morning and still get the attractive (as if) vouchers, as long as you sign a financial plan. "Could you take one of those balls out and see what you've got?" Customer (or chiobu) pondered excitedly over which colour ball to choose. "Hmmm..." We faked excitement on our part. "Whooaaaa..." "Let me check. Whee!! You won yourself a Takashimaya voucher. Well done, customer/chiobu!!" Laughter all around. Some genuine (for the cheapos, I supposed), others fake (us!!). "But I don't want your voucher," some customers would lament. "I want that pen!!" "Whoa, you really do have the keen eye for the exquisite! This pen happens to be a collector's item!!" Laughter all around. "Not funny lor. Nabei." Sorry. Blogger's block~!!

So Arsenal beat the hell out of the team from Manchester. Caps a terrific sian week for me. So what if Manchester dominated? It makes victory all the more sweeter. Vieria smashing home the decisive penalty. How suiting. Man Utd fans song bor? HA. Speaking of Man Utd fans, I had a confrontation with one recently. You see, Man Utd fans makes my stomach sick. Arrogant. Haolian. Dua Pao. Etc. Just imagine the average Devil fan. Red jersey. Walking around aimlessly in town. Nose held high. Keeps reminding people about their 1999 treble. SICK. Anyway, I was on the train this particular day, sitting beside a lady codenamed D.D. Gorgeous. Sitting opposite us was a man in striking red. A Devil Freak. He got that damned look about him, which made me want to reach out and punch his cock face. "If only I have Dalhsim's stretchable arms. If only murder is legal!!" And so our staring contest continued in stalemate fashion, except that he kept glancing his eyes to D.D. Gorgeous from time to time. A lusty Devil Freak, I thought. MRT journeys seem extremely long when you are staring at others. But the next station came somehow. The new entrant was an old lady who seemed likely to collapse if none of us offered her our seats. But before I could ponder over my choice, Devil Freak had pounced on the opportunity. Bouncing off his seat as if he had springs on his ass, Devil Freak 'kindly' invited the old lady. The old lady smiled motherly at him. Devil Freak smiled cunningly at me. And proudly at D.D. Gorgeous. The look in his eyes seemed to tell me that I'm a loser, a fucker. That I had sinned and should go to hell. That I should have given up my seat. That I shouldn't be sitting next to D.D. Gorgeous. Understanding his concern, I decided to redeem myself. I offered my seat to Devil Freak. "Err, would you like to take my seat, Devil Freak?" "Now then you give up your seat. Just now old lady here need seat, who give one? ME!! You can go to hell and get burnt to death. And who do you support? Arsenal? Must be lar. Cheebye!!" "Sorry, but I don't speak moron. Could you repeat yourself in a clearer way?" "I said I don't need seat. Get away from my me lar. I'd get nasty hor. I do 30 chin-ups one lor. And stop blocking my view on D.D. Gorgeous." "30 chin-ups? HA. I used to pull tree trunks out to fight Gozilla. Ever experienced catching a bus thrown at you at god-damned speed? With your bare hands? Well, I do. Anyway, it was her who wanted to sit with you, hero-of-the-moment." "OH!!" and he hurried over to sit beside D.D. Gorgeous, self-introducing himself, and talking about his passion for giving up seats in MRT. D.D. Gorgeous seemed perplexed. She looked irritated but helpless. But Devil Freak, being a freak with no notable EQ at any level, couldn't stop rattling. "You know there was once when I was the only one who gave up my seat to a pregnant lady? The whole cabin was touched and applauded me!!" "Sorry, but I don't speak moron either." Anyway as fate has it, the next station soon came and in stepped a few old ladies, a few pregnant women and a few kids. Devil Freak couldn't be bothered with them much, could he?

The holiday has been inactive so far. It makes me wonder when the pace will start to pick up. Meanwhile I shall pick up the odd jobs along the way, stay home to blog and game, and take the occasional walk to the mall. So on this not-so-particular day, I was at Cheers, buying a copy of the New Paper to spend my afternoon with. "Sorry, you don't pay for your papers here," said the cashier. Oh okay, it was the Singapore Pools sales-aunty. S.Pools has one outlet in Cheers and nobody was in the queue. I thought. Should I? Why not? What else? Yes, get the pencil, you fool!! Be reminded that never was I a gambler. I'm a small fry punter who tries to push his luck around when the queue at S.Pools is acceptable. That day happened to be the day I should punt and waste. Hmmn, Man Utd vs Arsenal. After much pondering, the box that wrote Arsenal 4 Man Utd 0 was shaded. The queue picked up quite a bit since I started shading but I got into line anyway. All of a sudden, a teenager jumped in and stood in front of me. That pissed me off quite a bit naturally, but I didn't overreact this time round. I tapped lightly on his shoulders twice. Lightly because I have superhero strength that bends steel and deforms skulls, and I certainly don't wish to hurt him. "Err, boy. I was here before you." The juvenile, which I would hate to name, simply gave a blind stare and continued to stand in my way. I was quite in a mood today, so I politely tapped his shoulders a second time and said, in a more reprimanding tone, "Boy, why do you think I am standing here? To get my queue cut?" "Cut your queue leh. Purposely leh. So what can you do to me? Beat me up lar, you pussy!!" My patience snapped immediately. What can I do to you? I could finish you off in 101 special moves, you son of a bitch. For god sake, I'm a superhero. Stop asking me questions what I could do. Do I have to dodge bullets, jump off buildings and halt trains whenever I appear in public? Do I have to swallow swords and take in a few gunshots to show that, yes, I am YOUR superhero?? Well, I really shouldn't have to, but in an attempt to get my queue back, I had to display my prowess. I punched out my right fist and flaunted the 3 deep scars that ran through it. "Whoa, how you get that?" I tried desperately to disguise my satisfaction. At least I was beginning to see light. "HA. You mean these 3 scars? I got them while fighting the Steel Menace." Steel Menace was the frequent canteen queue-cutter in my secondary school days. "Whoa, what happened to him in the end?" "Him? HA. What a question? You asked me what happened to him?" Silence. The kid stared blankly at me, quite clearly questioning my words. "HA. HA. HA. Errrr, well, he survived in the end. But that's not the point. He's made of steel and I managed to beat him into a pulp!! HA." "Ohh, he survived?" And the kid turned back. No signs of him giving back my queue though. That's pretty tough of him, I thought. He don't know who he is trifling with. But hey, I'm cool, it's just a short queue. In no time, it would be my turn. I took back the bubbling anger in me, and unclutched the phenomenal fist of mine. "I'm cool, real cool," I told myself. The kid was let off. I remind you peeps, the kid was LET OFF. Don't be fooled that I'm someone to be trifle with, despite being your superhero, for I could be quite nasty at times. Alright, I give the occasional autographs, but no, don't expect me to be a circus hero. Other than that, yah, I'm cool. Damn cool. Kick-ass coolness.

"Cher? Cher? How to find the surface area of that cylinder?" Cher? Wtf? Alright, Cher stands for T'cher. It is the affectionate name that Sec 1C of Henderson Secondary had given me. You see, they are my virgin students. Err, virgin in the sense that they are my first batch that I handle in my part-time job as faciliator. At first I was nervous, just as anyone would be on their first day. The feeling was made worse by the co-ordinator. "You hong-gan liao lar. Henderson Sec is nortoriously famous lor. Wish you good luck leh." But they are only Sec 1, I thought. How tough could they be? Scold me cheebye in my face? But seriously, I forgot how Sec 1 peeps are supposed to behave. Trying vigorously to recall how I was behaving in Sec 1, I realised I had no time for that. My potential nemeses had just arrived. "Line up in twos, students. Follow kor-kor." Plain bochup was the reaction. Of course the nabeis and cbs couldn't come out. For god sake I am a t'cher now. So i shouted until my throat couldn't take it. But as time went by, their stone hearts eventually melted. Unsurprised of course, for nothing can stand in the way of dPx being popular with kids. Anyway, I soon found out how a fun bunch they are. Rowdy, playful, naughty, funny, ridiculous, hilarious, bla, bla, bla, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera. Ah bengs and ah lians? No no no. Maybe in the future, I don't know. Hopefully not. I suddenly felt overwhelmed by their every action and speech. I seriously felt that they are a greater lot to be with than say, err, RGS girls? Anyway I meant those 'highly educated' girls who would keep quiet and not respond to me in any way other than copy down whatever I had said, although most of what was being said, appeared to me to be bullshit at the end. Not the most academically inclined, but their cuteness certainly is enough for me to embrace them. Questions flowed faster than my brain could take it. "Cher, how to see line of symmetry?", "Cher, how to see the gradient same anot?", "Cher, how to write inequalities?". When I brought them to the huge board that displays the departures and arrivals, things got just a-little-bit messy. "Cher, where is Ho Chin Minh?" "Cher, where is Cebu?" "Cher, where is Maritius?" "Cher, where is..." "CHER SI MI LAN!!!????" Hey!! Of course I didn't react that way. I thoroughly enjoyed every minute of the 2 hour trail, although I got a bit paiseh when they sang Tuo Diao Tuo Diao Tuo Diao, Lao Si Tuo Diao at the end. Anyway, great experience. Pay's not that great but I enjoyed the work. Job satisfaction!! But everything has to end, and I admit that I may never see them ever again, even if I would have very much wanted to. But it's this kinda parting that makes this small-mini-tiny affliation all the more special. So we waved goodbye and so long. I was their king for these 2 hours. "Children, all kowtows and hail the king!!" "CHER, CHER, CHER!!!!"

Sigh. Times are hard. Getting a pirated CD is harder. The days when you can find pirates throughout AMK is long gone. You see, pirates are a poor man's best friend. They sell their products at so-freaking low prices that you sometimes pity for them. You could say they are performing charity, for the profit they earn from each CD is really peanuts. And most likely they'd donate the proceedings to NKF, at least from the looks of their faces. But why have they all disappeared. I could only offer one reason. Poor services. As much as I would like to adore these kind-hearted souls, I must admit their services are just not there. You go into Pirated CD Pte Ltd hoping to get a wide array of products that you can have access to easily, only to get disappointed. Their products are arranged in a weird manner. Their salesmen are even weirder. I can't explain weird because you have to see it for yourself. You asked, "How do you install this CD, uncle? Is my system suitable to play?" He would reply, "One CD for $6, three for $15. Exchangable within 7 days. And regarding your question, do I look like a software engineer to you?" Well, he certainly doesn't have the looks, but it doesn't take a rocket scientist to answer my question!! Anyway, this is how it goes. You see, charity organizations can't have poor services. The service feedback forms that they gave us to fill up after every purchase only cause their downfalls. Customers like us just couldn't take poor services. And how we regretted our decisions. There is hardly a stall for us to patronise now. Sad customers like me could only lament on our blogs. Poor us only got ourselves poorer. So on this day, I was once again walking along the premises of AMK, looking for the now soon-to-be-extinct pirates. Well, there is none apparently, or else I won't be writing this entry. So in the end, I found myself shopping in Guardian, for hell reason I do not know. HA. But anyway, I chanced upon this cute little orb which I reckoned shouldn't be in Guardian for some reason. The reason which I do not know, but heck, curious me decided to look at the price tag. I reached for it... ...but it stood there, unmoved. I looked at the salesgirls and they nervously looked elsewhere. "Something's amiss", I thought. I decided to turn it sideways and ah-ha, strangely enough, the shelf that was supposed to contain the Gatsby products flipped over several times to reveal a small pin-hole which I decided at that time, must be some voice input device. Another look at the salesgirls and they are panicking. But still, no actions were taken against me. I put my mouth near the pin hole and whispered the famous tune, "Gatsby, Gatsby, Gatsby!!" Sure enough, the entire Gatsby shelves collapsed, rather silently, to reveal a secret door!! A lesser man would have ran off should he collapsed the entire Gatsby shelves. But not dPx. I stepped in, and a glither blinded me momentarily. "Welcome!!" I looked around. It was the pirates!! I looked around me frantically and I found myself surrounded by nicely designed CD racks with appropriate titles and genres. The dream shop, I thought. All the while, I concluded that they have closedown. Hell no, they are rebuilding in the dungeons of Guardian, part-franchise of the Gatsby network!! Being the first customer to experience this new shopping experience, I decided to do the still-existing customer survey forms after finishing my purchases. 5-Star was the rating I gave. I could have given 6 or 7 stars if there was such an option. But no, it stopped at 5, so I could only give 5. The point here is that I would have given more if I could. Okay, you got that point? Why 5, you asked. Not only are the products better arranged, they have courteous and knowledgable salesmen that greeted my concerns as if they were his. "I think I would have a problem playing the game," and the salesman would frown and think so hard that you thought my problem is going to end his world. "I tell you what, I shall accompany you to your home and install it for free," "My oh my, you shouldn't have!!" "No, my friend. This is the least I could do for you. We run a charity here and maybe you could help by donating to the NKF fundbox behind you." Of course I could only oblige. I am getting cheap stuff while doing charity at the same time. Hell am I privileged to be in the same league as the pirates. If only there were more pirates, I thought. But they are a celebrated class of people in this society. Just as there could only be one dPx, there would only be one group of excellent pirates. "Thanks for the services, guys. You rocks!!"

It was 10. Became nil. Then it sped its way up to 20. I am talking about bash tickets here. When it was told to me that the 10 tickets they ordered last night had vaporised, I pee-ed into my pants. Not literally though. Panic-stricken dPx was sweating. He was dPx-ing about the 10 tickets that he could use to save entire Merlot. All of a sudden, hero wannabe turned into a dPx-ing villian, not for the first time. TIO DUA was the word that excuses my hao-lian-ness.

Heroine - Sharon Codename - Drop-dead gorgeous Brief - Okay, she's not exactly drop-dead gorgeous. In any case, she didn't kill me at our first meeting. But kudos to her, for she got me the 20 tickets bulk sale which at one time, seemed increasingly unlikely. A glance at the paper she held in her hand proved the work she had put into in gathering her manpower and saving my ass. Strangers before yesterday, saving me was the last thing she could do. But then, she didn't. Kowtows!!

In the end, it doesn't even matter if the entire Merlot didn't go for bash. The bulk sale only encouraged me to psycho the whole lot to go home instead. HA. We are simply NCKs (non-chiong kias). Don't misunderstood us as chiong-ers, for we are NOT. Good thing we are not allowed to wear UNIFORMS to chiong. Hell knows what will happen to our reputation? It sounded like a great idea at first BECAUSE it seemed like the only way to get our NCKs to go to the bash. But hey, imagine us waiting outside in JC UNIFORMS? Our heads would have been laughed off before we even stepped into CheenaBlack!! On the streets we continued to sell our remaining tickets though, because we have a responsibility. Bouncers looked at us suspiciously as we pitched our sales so aggressively. And yes, we did get into some trouble. One of the bouncer came down to confront us. But good thing we got Malcolm on our side. Quiet and reserved he may be, but you are fucking wrong to regard him as a pushover. A staring contest soon began, which turned into a shoving one. "You are not allowed to sell your tickets here!!" Malcolm remains quiet, refusing to look at the bouncer. "Get your fucking arse out of here!!" Malcolm looked up slowly. He had electrifying Cyclops eyepower, which he had trained ever so hard in his army daze. A Cyclops Blast erupted from Malcolm's eyes and hit the bouncer on the stomach. But bouncers ain't call bouncers for no reason. The laser bounced off the bouncer and landed on our CGL's right arm, at the exact location where she had her hideous flu jab!! Merlot was angry!! "The flu jab had enough stick oready," we all thought. Out of a sudden, dPx landed his right fist into the chest of the indomitable bouncer. The huge thump got everyone looking. The impact blew the bouncer apart, splattering blood all over CheenaBlack!! Awww...the onlookers screamed. Nabei, I thought. I had overreacted. I shouldn't have done what I did. But it's too late to do anything I supposed, though seriously, the flu jab really should have been left alone. The cops were soon called in. Sigh, I sighed. Nabei, I thought. CB, I sweared. A check on the bouncer was done. He had been blown apart though, so the one way to find out his identity is through his ID. And then the twist!! He was a Bangla working for Al-Quaeda Corporation. Applause all around. And I thought I had screwed things up. I'm a national hero!! I chatted awhile with the cops, took an interview with CNA and gave a 5 minute 'Dont-mention-it' speech to the CheenaBlack peeps. But Merlot was looking increasingly frustrated. It's 2315 now and their last train is about to leave. Reluctantly, I left CheenaBlack to a standing ovation. A few autographs were signed and I was on my way back home. So much for a day's concerns. In the end, the concerns didn't really materialise.

I'm a midnight club racer. Yes, streets racers that are not legalised or recognised by the law. But we are too fast and too far to catch. Policemen would be spending their time more fruitfully by concentrating on people who jump queues at Singapore Pools, or people who shade using the pencils at Singapore Pools so hard that I can't shade anymore (Could S. Pools like use pens instead because they don't seem to sharpen the blunt-for-ages pencils anyway). Anyway, that's beside the point. The point is, speed to me is of the essence. Speed is my livelihood. Speed's money! Seldom would you see us though. We are too fast, too furious. So fast you probably see and forget. But I'm here to remind, in case you are ever wondering, streets racers like us exist. We ain't no F1 or GP drivers too. They are legalised. They have the fastest engines and windstream. But we don't want tobacco advertisements all over our body! It's a shame. We race in hot cleans suits that will get most girls drooling. Besides, we are STREET racers. Traffic everywhere. Banglas doing never-ending roadworks in our way. Jaywalkers. Red, green, amber. Not to say traffic police. It's one hellava challenge. Rest easy, for we have skills equipped. You don't become a street racer by deciding to be one after you pass your Class 3. It's kinda inborned. Either you have it or you crave for it. We race and win and gain experience points that we put into skill points such as those below. What's the post, you ask. My post is to impart. My skills. God bless my skills.

SKILL #1 - ZONE BRIEF - Ever reach a split at such fucking speed that you could never make up your mind about which way to go? Introduce Zone, the ability to control time around you within 5 metre radius, allowing you to maneuver through the smallest of spaces. Activate Zone and everything goes slow, except your mind that is to say. Make full use. It's the difference between going in the right direction and of course, the wrong one. SKILL #2 - ROAR BRIEF - Rushing for a meeting that you are supposed to be there 5 minutes ago? Or a 'you-can-fuck-off-if-you-are-late" date which is supposed to take place in 5 seconds time? But hell, of all time a traffic jam that makes you curse and swear and sweat over for a legitimate excuse. No more worries though. With Roar, you could simply roar the whole jam miles away. It's basically a huge sound wave that blows the traffic ahead out of your way, allowing you to rush through without slowing down, unscathed. SKILL #3 - AGRO BRIEF - What's more frustrating than that split second you know you are going to hit your brand new car (or wife, some may call it), and of all things, into a rock solid army vehicle? Enter Agro. This makes your baby impervious to damage for an amazing 5 seconds. What's more, the army vehicle gets knocked into no man's land by the sudden strength of your wheelie. Well done, you can now laugh at SAF's mediocrity once again.

We have given back to society what they have given us in the first place. Learn these well, and be grateful to us. HA. Disclaimer: These are not my inventions. Don't go ooohh and awww about my talents while reading it. Although I have an awesome talent, unfortunately these are NOT my creation. Heh.

I shall woo her... ...if this is the only other woman left on this world. Damn!! My boredom's beyond cure. Someone get the doc please.

The fall from grace is well, never graceful. And never could it be. The sight of seasoned winners like Keane, Neville, Scholes and Giggs being among the guards of honour to welcome the new champions is heart-wrenching to say the least. Personally, I can't be bothered though. The Red Devils simply had too much talk, and if anything comes cheap, it's Alex Ferguson's brand of dua-paoing. "There is nothing between us and Chelsea." Well there is. It's a mammoth 20pts between you and Mr. Jose. It's now 6 games between you and Mourinho, but sadly, you have never come out on top. And probably never will. SIR Alex could certainly save himself some stick by ending his cheap talk, at least from me. Ha. To form a guard of honour at your very own Theatre of Dreams? What were you thinking, Mr. Alex-who-has-won-it-all? Pride saving? Show of sportsmanship? I wish it was Arsenal yesterday. And you would be seeing foul faces all around Old Trafford instead. Or is he trying to forge a new alliance with the special one, in order to gear himself up against his old nemisis? Or trying to do some bootlicking in order to get Scott Parker or Alexi Smertin on loan to puff up his diminishing central midfield? Conspiracy everywhere. I smell a fish. Talking about the mighty, the mighty has indeed fallen. At Ikea to be precise. Shan't elaborate much more because me no Sir Alex. HA. I go quiet when its shameful. Unlike him. May the 4 eyewitnesses stay loyal forever. God Bless You. dPx stays grateful. Amen. Signing off.

Red and yellow and pink and green, Purple and orange and blue. I can sing a rainbow, Sing a rainbow, Sing a rainbow too.

If you could be somebody else for one day, who would it be? The standard question for a standard pageant of any kind. Ever wonder how to answer it? Well, you got a chance now.

Scenario: You are having real fun at the beach. Then, you chance upon a floating bottle. You pick it up and uncork it. A voice erupts from nowhere, "Ha-ha-ha. I am finally unleashed. I am free!!" You look up. It's the expected Genie from the bottle. "I shall grant you a wish. Answer me. If you could be somebody for one day, who would it be," the Genie asks commandingly. You reply without giving a second thought, "If I could be somebody else for one day, I want to be the phenom, the show-stopper, the best of them all, the one and only, dPx!!" "That's one hellava wish," the Genie said, at the same time snapping his fingers. A strong white light blinds you temporary. You reopen your eye and find yourself sitting outside the Nanyang Auditorium, selling tickets for Impresario 2005. You are alone. You are bored. You wish you are somewhere else. But hell, you are now dPx. So stop complaining and wait as the adventure unfolds.

Stage 1 - Suddenly, the vice-president appears with a girl from nowhere. This girl is extraordinary. She takes your breath away. After hours of chatting, you decide she's the one for you. You decide to: A - Ask for her HP B - Ask for her MSN C - Do nothing Analysis - If you choose A and B, you are somewhere along the right track. Go to Stage 2 (for A) and Stage 3 (for B). If you choose C instead, welcome to the league of extraordinary losers and go to Stage 5. Stage 2 - The day has ended and you make your way home. You are damn happy about the achievement. But darn, you are not sure what to sms her. You are not even close to her, and you certainly don't wish to be seen as a desperado. You realise you just made the wrong choice! You are starting to piss yourself off. "WHY AM I SUCH AN IDIOT??" But you still have a choice, don't you? You think. Should I? Yah, I can. But could I? I must!! Must I?? A - You sms her and ask, "What's your MSN?" B - You sms her and say, "Goodnight!" Analysis - If you choose A, you are making lost grounds on a failed initial attempt. Go to Stage 3. If you choose B, you probably think she would block you on MSN. Therefore your decision to sms a nice goodnight instead. But your dear pretty gal has decided to ignore your lame attempt. You have just shot yourself. You are as good as gone, all thanks to your hum-ji-ness!! Game Over. Stage 3 - You are pleased with your achievement. An MSN. That's the key to her heart. You get to talk to her all night. But be careful, you think, for anything less than an interesting you would result in your efforts going down the drain. But before you do anything, you are desperately eager to know her status. You decide to: A - Ask, "Err, not going out with boyfriend meh," hoping that she will say nah B - Ask, "Do you have a boyfriend," straight at her face C - Do nothing Analysis - If you choose A, go to Stage 4. A surprise is waiting for you. If you choose B, you can go to hell. I simply can't be bothered with you. You are a total disgrace. Go to Ending 1. If you choose C, go to Stage 5. Stage 4 - "Oh god, I'm not attached now/Oh god, I just broke up/Oh god, I'm evergreen!" You are thrilled. You decide to take her out for dinner. Where would it be? It has to be a memory entrenching first date. You decide to bring her to: A - McDonald and Arcade to watch you play B - Cineleisure to watch House of Wax C - Pastamania Analysis - If you choose A, you are a loser. I can't believe you get this far and screw yourself at this stage. Go to Ending 2. If you choose B, you have succeeded. Although you are just as scared in the theatre, you are better at covering your fear. You slip your hand across her shoulders to give her an assuring hug. You go to Ending 3. If you choose C, you have simply forgotten that you are not yourself anymore. You are dPx this moment, and dPx can't take anything pasta. You vomit the damned pasta on her face. You try to clean her up, only to vomit more onto her. You are screwed. Go to Ending 1. Ending 1 - You got yourself blocked on MSN, not for the 1st time though. You get on with life. You decide that you need some polishing up. You are a loser. You can go blog your way to your tomb. Ending 2 - You thought the gal is as siao-on as you. You are fucking wrong then. Arcade of all places? You have become the joke of the campus. Everyone will giggle at you. You will become the joke among the freshies too. And one of them will make a mockery out of you in his blog. Well done. You hate McDonald from now on. You have been McScrewed!! Ending 3 - You've got your girl!! Or so you thought. The gal may be after your money. But fear not, the chances are rather low. You plan your anniversaries ahead, as well as the clashes. And tantrums. And cold-shoulders. You got no more time to blog. Your talent will be buried forever. Sigh. Stage 5 - You did not get her number or MSN, or at least you did nothing with the contacts of hers you have at hand. You believe this is not the time to be sms-ing or chatting to her. You believe that getting them on the 2nd time you meet her is more constructive. You believe in fate. You finally get to see her again 2 months later. You ask for her number or MSN. You ask if she has a boyfriend. "Oh, I've got one just a month or two ago," said she happily. You feel like dying. Your belief in fate has screwed you once more. Your mind is filled with nabeis yet again. "NABEI!!!" Go to Stage 6. Stage 6 - You have almost forgotten about her. But as fate has it, you are to meet her for the 3rd time. She's alone. You feel like asking, "Have you become single?" You feel like chasing her again. You happen to have 2 Guang Liang Concert tickets (or so it seems). You approach her. A - You ask, "Care to go Guang Liang's concert with me?" B - You offer, "Want my 2 Guang Liang's concert tickets?" Analysis - If you choose A, you are rejected straight in the face because she's still attached. You somehow bobian have to choose B. At B, you reluctantly give away 2 Guang Liang tickets to her, so that she can spend the night with her boyfriend. You are sad once again. You shout. Jason shouts louder.

Ps: Sigh. By the way, dPx took the route that leads to Stage 6. Some loser, you thought. Well then, get into his shoes and try.

What do you get when you mix Bruce Lee, Stallone and a loanshark in a game of Quidditch-cum-Dodgeball? Laughter, fun, and laughter. Loads of them to be exact. Well, at least for us, haha. Credits to the Ps to pull it off. Those were the new games that were added to this year's camp. Although they were not entirely and newly created by us, we were just as willing to close our eyes and pat ourselves on our backs. WELL DONE!! Had been a tiring 2 days, although I had expected more from a trial camp. Such as peeps dividing themselves into groups so that they can fucking play the games instead of hearing the CPs explain their breath out. But in the first place, why had I expected such shit? From where? From nah!! It was just plain gladness that my stations were the first to be played. Because the peeps were then the freshest, most eager, and thus we got the most feedbacks. After which, I had only pity for the rest of the CPs. I tried to input some energy into anything, but yet had to appear as if I was never interferring, and I had got a difficult P to handle. Pity me instead!! Bwhahaha. A planned 2 days 1 night event shrinking its way into a 9 hours bored show. Unbelievable. But before I succumb myself into further criticisms, I had to ask myself if I could make a difference if I were in the shoes. Unfortunately, I imagined I could hardly do any better. What's the problem then? The chairman? The peeps? The camp? Well, I believe every problem starts from the very top. Get your fucking ass-acts together then, loser!! Before my knn and nb and cb and knnbccb all come out, I'll talk about something more encouraging. The bash. Had it not been the JC uniform dress code we'd set ourselves, I seriously believe that the turnout would be just as bad. Most simple reason: Merlotians don't chiong. So do I. No blames attached. It's just those things that got you thinking? Why on earth are they so insistent on bash after bash? "Bash again ar?" "Chinablack again ar?" Why not create something special that will rub the whole NBS in? Make them ever so excited that ticket sales would never be an issue. And never be seen in the light of that of a loser batch that makes ever so pathetic losses for any bash of any kind. But luckily for us, Ber and gang came up with some ridiculously fun dress codes that got us sit up and think, "Hey!!". Although a conspiracy theory is on its way from nowhere, weaving its way out of proportion, I could hardly care. Bashes seldom look more tempting than the one on May 13th. Fancy catching me in tight pants that could burst anytime? Or wearing a JC top so beng that you wished you were me? Self-indugement. You can ignore me. Bio our gals in JC uniform at the bash instead. Tickets selling fast. Order NOW!!! Reminder: Oh man, that was one hellava constructive comment I've got from dunno-who. Check it out. My 1st ever comment I received. And I thought I was entertaining myself all the time. Signing off.

Watch this slot. Chelsea to win 2-0 tonight. Put your money in my mouth. I know it's too late to do anything though. 3rd post in as many hours. I'm NOT addicted. I'm just BORED. I've got NOTHING to do. And nothing to LOSE. Smiles.

I've lost my original post for the umpteenth time. I'm getting pissed off!!! What's wrong with Blogger? Nevermind, they don't owe me anything. But still I ain't going to do nothing. =) A scathing attack on the damned Blogger.

It's loading.... Wait huh... Hey, they've lost it. DAMNED!!

Today's been one hell of a day. The 3 musketeers went on a job quest, quite desperately but not seemingly so in appearance. We got ourselves to Recruit Express and 'malu' ourselves. There was a crowd. People wearing formally. People looking serious. We looked out of place. Kev was wearing smart casual. dPx was wearing smart casual with not-so-casual slippers. JH was wearing 'kopi-thiam' smart-casual. Everyone was interviewed one by one. Everyone had a resume. Except us. We were interviewed at the same time, with the interviewer firing quick questions at breakneck speed. "I sell CDs one," said JH proudly. And then we were gone. "We blew it!" Next up, Adecco. Smart sources had told us this is the place to go. So on we trod, excitedly, anticipating what to say and what not to say. "Say I'm a retailer 10 times," reminding JH not to screw things up again. We got there. Hell, there's a lot of agencies in this freaking building alone. Upon reaching Adecco, we found ourselves in good company. More people looking 'lok kok'. Greeted by a sweet smile from a sweet receiptionist, we were asked to complete a form. And then we were asked to f**k off as soon as we handed in the form. Implicitly though, by the same sweet girl. Sigh. "It's ok. Just leave our names with 10 more agencies and I don't believe we won't get one call." I supposed the contary would happen though. Times are hard. I am starting to use this phrase. Hell, I have grew up. Give me a break! Last stop. Kelly Services. I was engaged by this agency during some school canvassing and some of their faces look familar. I was eager to pull the strings attached but I failed apparently. We were as usual asked to fill a form. "Do you consume alcohol?" the form asked blatantly. "No, we're halal," we wrote plainly. "Please take the typing test," requested the old lady. "No, we are looking for some tough jobs. We can do security, escorting and weight lifting," replied us coherently. The old lady simply ignored us. Kev and JH were first up. They weren't even typing. Backspace happened to be their favourite button. With their two index fingers, they were going at the equivalent rate of 0.2 km/hr. Basically I could break down their typing into 4 steps. 1. Look at the paper. 2. Look at the keyboard. 3. Look at the monitor. 4. If you had typed the wrong word, go back to step 1 (If you hadn't, also go back to step 1). At least we got to know our typing speeds. JH got 30wpm, while Kev got 27wpm. dPx, being dPx, got himself 60wpm. "You won yourself our name card, my dear," said the old lady nicely as she handed me Kelly Services namecard. JH and Kev were distraughted. "That's it for today!" We walked our way back to the MRT station, seeing ourselves possibly taking the same route everyday in the near future. "Not bad lar, a lot of good-looking girls in corporate wear," we consoled ourselves. The train came, we rushed for it, along with an ang moh. The train was not full, only its seats were full. But we couldn't get in. There's sort of like a road block at every entrance. As expected, the train closed its door and off went the half-empty train. We (including the ang moh) were pissed. "Aunty, cannot go in huh?" The aunty looked at us as if we were aliens. "Inside got ghost meh?" We were getting ourselves outnumbered, for every entrance blocker were now staring at us. Not willing to be outdone, we talked among ourselves. Loudly. "Why ar, how come like tat one?" "Dunno leh, got ghost lor. Kiasu lor. Singaporeans leh." Sigh. This is the first time I am seeing such a scene. "They deserve the seats lar. They deserve it more than anybody lor. They stand the whole day liao leh. The pregnant and handicapped should give up their seats to reward their hard day lor," was our only explanation. Signing off.

I had to do this. You could say it is a tribute (hardly so), a memento (hmn..) or a snigger (most rightly). Watching An Eye For A Guy on Chan5 certainly doesn't help their cause. It merely makes me more eager to come up with my own version. Haha. What am I talking about? You are about to find out. Yes you. You are reading it! Don't get shock if you see your face up there. Haha. Without delay, ladies and gentlemen, Eye for THE Guy, version 2.5.

Scenerio: You are the divine one. You are the equivalent of VJ Denise Keller. As elegant and gorgeous as she might be, you suspect the underlying motives of her pursuers. But here, you are the divine one, much sought-after by the contesting 4 masculinos. They are single, they are desperate (???), they are over-qualified, they are for REAL! You choose one of them. And elope. To a place where there is only romance. And never break up. And never grow weary. And never again would you want to watch Eye for A Guy 3. What are you looking for in your future? Your Prince Charming. Your PRECIOUS!! Pray and breathe hard, girls. 'Cos these masculinos gonna take your remaining breath away.

#M1 Jason 'Rich Kid Poor Dad' Ng Description: He is one rich boy. He is the one who bought both the Zen Micro and the Ipod when he was undecided about which to buy for his mp3 player. He would also buy the Xbox and PS2 when he only needs a few days of entertainment. There's a rumor that goes round saying that he had once given a pair of priceless Guang Liang concert tickets to dPx. Stock market is one of Jason's playground. It's only a matter of time before he starts to use his money as toilet paper. The EEE student looks like a dream lover though. Embrace him, girls. Analysis: If you choose him, you either assume that he would also exercise his extravagent spending on you or that he would remain the richest among the 4. Nevertheless, you thought you've got yourself the best catch. My advice: Look further. Read on and find out. And regret. And lament. And get pissed with yourself. You deserve it. :~( #M2: Victor "Feng You" Wong Description: He looks average, he talks average. He is the average guy. One hell of a serious guy, he studies non-stop so that he can feel less guilty, if he da-bao. He is a man of few words, but his occasionally jokes get so corny you feel like slapping him. Wong has no need for the towel, for he has extraordinary self-drying abilities that can evaporate the water on him after his bath. He loves the Feng You. A fanatic fan of the Feng You since the age of 5, he uses an average of 5 bottles of Feng You per week, which makes it one bottle per study day. Unfortunately, he is the guy most girls like. With his "oh, so-average" looks and jokes, you have to give this man credit. How he did it is totally beyond us. He is most probably the reason why this world is so fucking unfair. "I ZAI leh. Don't need looks to attract girls" is his fame line. Slap him peeps!! =p Analysis: If you choose him, you are either f**king blind or you think he is f**king rich. In both case, you are f**king wrong. You most probably have a keen eye for potential millionaires as Wong is the most likely of the 4 to be rich. You will become a Feng You King's wife. -_- ''' M3: David 'Kopi-Chino' Ong Description: He is the typical computer engineer. Pop him an IT question and you would most probably be treated like an idiot. You would certainly wish you didn't ask. Dave speaks tech and geek language that is hard to comprehend unless you are born a geek. A decent and stingy-on-himself young man who craves for the $8 haircut at Hall2 (the reason for such a craving is beyond any human being's guess), Dave also listens to music that nobody has heard of. A self-proclaimed caffeine addict, Dave could pour down 10 cups of coffee in a single day, while people like me struggles to drink 8 glasses of water. All in all, Dave is your average geek. =0 Analysis: If you choose him, you are most probably proficient in geek language. Either that or you thought that he could produce a Google-like work, that will reap millions, with you ending up shockingly as a tai-tai by the age of 20. Your most likely ending would be the landlady of Sim Lim Square. Unfortunately, Dave is your average geek. Banish that thought, would you? And look closely at M4. =( #M4: dPx 'Classy' Tan Description: dPx oozes class. He skips lectures and tutorials and makes you wonder how he come up with the results. He is such a good joker that you wonder how Mark Lee could still survive in Singapore. He plays such great football that you wonder why Man Utd haven't spot him. He is so kind hearted that God wishes there are a million more dPx on earth. He is most probably worth a good blog, making you wonder again where his interesting and funny blog is. dPx is a threat to the existance of males. Males counterparts want him to be attached and stop competing with them (you wish!). Males counterparts wish he was gay (highly unlikely). Gays wish he was gay (big compliment!!). The world is so unfair. You wish you were dead. =x Analysis: If you choose him, you are definitely in the right mind. If you are undecided, look no further. If you did not choose him, you are insane. You wonder why the other 3 exist in the first place (for peeps who choose M4 immediately). Or you most probably convince yourself that you read wrongly somewhere and make a fluke decision (for peeps who regretted not choosing M4 immediately). Your likely ending would be that of a happy spouse who finally understood the meaning of Prince Charming. You will face stiff competition from the rest of the world to keep your prized possession. Should you be successful though, you would be the most talked about woman in blog-town. =) Conclusion: Whatever your choice, you have every reason to celebrate. These 4 guys living along the stretch of 45-5-862 to 864 has everything. Looks that kill and wealth that...err...kills. So, be wise and dump the one beside you now. Smile because you've got yourself a brighter future!! Swear: I swear not to make fun of you guys again. I swear not to make fun of you guys again. I swear not to make fun of you guys again. I swear not to make fun of you guys again. I swear not to make fun of you guys again. I swear not to make fun of you guys again. I swear not to make fun of you guys again. I swear not to make fun of you guys again. I swear not to make fun of you guys again. I swear not to make fun of you guys again. I swear not to make fun of you guys again. I swear not to make fun of you guys again.

It must have been around for ages, but I only came across it recently. Simply hilarious and thoughts-stirring, especially for genuine tak-giu-ers (I mean foot-baller). Presenting to you, Tak Giu. Download is free, legalised and virus-free. Tested and proven. Enjoy!!

Recently, there has been a lot of talk about telemarketing jobs. Xiaohan, as well as my Merlotians have all told me about this particular job opportunity. Without a flicker of the switch in the brain of the wise sheriff, dPx declined almost as immediate as they finished their sentence. But why the dislike for this job, you ask. I'll tell you why. dPx has worked on more than one occasion as a telemarketer. Unpleasant experiences to the least. The pay's good, sometimes alright, but it's not dPx's favourite part-time. You get mocked, you get sick, and you get shit. Like this:

dPx: Hello, I am a telemarketer selling condoms. Give me 5minutes, won't you, and you'll see yourself benefitting from this 5min of attention. Potential CKP*: I don't use condom. dPx: You must be kidding uncle. You sound like an out-and-out chee-ko-pei from the outskirts of Gey-Land. Confirmed CKP: I don't patronise Gey-Land. dPx: Ha. Funny. I bet the reason is that you can't do it anymore! Sobbing CKP: Kid, you are right. The condom has grown too big for me I cant use it anymore. (sneeze) dPx: Our's free size, Uncle. One size fits all. Cannot-make-it CKP: ...sobz... ...Tuuuuuu....**

Or this:

dPx: Hello, I'm a telemarketer. I sell condom. Ah-ma: Huh?? Condo? I don't live condo. Byebye. dPx: No, wait. It's con-DOM. Ah-ma: Huh?? Doom? My grandson kept playing the game Doom3, non-stop! You sell it again, I will spank your buttocks. Exasperated dPx: Its.. Ah-ma: Haiyo, I gotta go for my session. Your 5mins up!! Ciao!! ...Tuuuuuu....

And this:

Deadbeat dPx: I am telemarketer. Condom. Want to buy? Female Operator: I'm sorry. The nmber you just dialled is not in use. Please DON'T try again later. Pek-chek dPx: Fuck off then. Supposed-Female Operator: That's not funny!! Shocked dPx: ..... ...Tuuuuuuuu...

That's it for telemarketing. dPx ain't that desperate for money anyway, although he's ridiculously cheap and poor. Sighz. *CKP = Chee-Ko-Pei **Tuuuuu = Sound of dead phone. Duh.

What's a cold topic? It's an off-topic. Something dPx doesn't usually write but something dPx wanted to show to his blogamagniacs. I must admit the last post really topped the pile. It even got me laughing as I typed. Don't ask me where they came from, because I don't know and I don't lie. It's just one of those days when anything comes, everything goes. Flow almost flawless, rythem almost killed me (Hey!!). And hence the need for a cold topic. Laugh-till-you-peng-with-foam-coming-out-of-your-mouth stories take a ridiculous amount of effort and creativity. It saps the very last ounce of inspiration in the grey matter. And although dPx is ridiculously talented, he isn't ridiculously retarded to do this every week. "Who is he kidding? He is atrociously retarded from the very beginning!!" Sighz, anyway the sheriff needs a break. He needs to plan his holiday. What could he freaking do in 3 months. Sit down here and blog all day, so that he can laugh to his own works every minute for 3 fucking months? Nah. I need objectives. Like earning a few millions during this holiday or getting GOLD in IPPT. Both are ridiculously impossible though. Let's see, what about learning to skydive so that there's a chance of me landing in Saddam Land and become a terrorist. Or learning to pole-dance in the clubs every night so that blogamaniacs puke, hate me and leave me? Or simply learn to cook so that I can poison myself and end my blogamaniacs' sufferings and stop the parents from hating me. Whatever it is, I seriously need to do something! A Langkawi trip? Mr. Yellow jio-ed me last week and it got me drooling. But with who? "With me, of course. I'm the widely-celebrated Beach Boy," exclaimed Mr. Yellow. "Well, you can fuck off. Seriously, the only thing that you got relating to the beach is that your pee is as yellow as the sands," dPx replying, unable to resist taking a dig at the self-proclaimed. But a day or two at the beach sounds cool. But I'm scared of tsunami. Do they have one at Langkawi? I better check it out. More likely, I will see myself going to Sengkang, watching soccer, playing Winning 11, and eating prata, all at the same time, every weekend. Although this is not bad, it certainly doesn't sound constructive. How about adding mahjong to it, so that I can shout Pong and Goal and Yum and Kelong, all at the same time. I might go crazy if I continue. That's it for my cold topic. Signing Off...