Just in case. If we ever say something stupid, please note that said stupidity is ours, and ours alone. Our stupidity! You can’t have it!
//Thursday, April 30, 2009 11:35 AM
The Best Game Ever!
RSVP, which is an event organized by 987fm, is a monthly affair falling on the last weekend of every month. The event allows call-in winners to the radio show for a night of mindless revelry together with 3 invited guests. There is no fixed location for RSVP; instead it is more of a nomadic affair bestowing itself across most major nightspots across the island, much like a gypsy herb hawker. One thing that sets RSVP apart from other parties is the promise of good music, fantastic vibes and free-flow of alcohol.
We have become a staple part of every RSVP event.
RSVP April, graced itself upon Rebel at Clarke Quay with a promise of mind-blowing Hip-Hop all night long. A day before the event, I had a life-changing conversation with Justin, as impactful as it is; this is as much as I could remember of it.
Justin: Yoyoyo tmr RSVP Kenny: Yeah man could be my last night out before exams Justin: Yo man then we need to go CRAZY! Kenny: You know ah, we never EVER get mad drunk at RSVP. Justin: Yah man it’s free flow leh dunno how come leh. Kenny: Yah we always stop somewhere, then when it’s not RSVP we go crazy hahahaha. Justin: Hahahaha yah siah Kenny: We need to make everyone drink, but how? Justin: You mean like a QUOTA ah?
When Justin mentioned QUOTA, bolts of neurotic brain charges started flying around my head like a bunch of migrating geese on steroids. We started drawing out game plans and brainstorming the ways with which we can effectively instill such a quota on the guys.
By the end of the conversation, we were enlightened individuals, spatially convulsing and salivating uncontrollably at the promise of THE BEST GAME EVER.
I prepared and printed out some charts and taped it against some vanguard before clipping the tags onto some lanyard (I prepared 10 tags in all) I had pilfered from the office. It was beginning to take shape. The child of our devious discussion and brainstorming, the promised one, the messiah that lights our path from sobriety to inebriation, quite simply put, IT WAS THE BOMB!
I couldn’t wait to show my creation to the guys, I imagined their faces as they cringed and prayed. We headed out to meet the guys for dinner with a mischievous smirk on my face.
At first sight, the guys were blown away at the effort I had taken into preparing the lanyards. I explained the rules of the games to the guys. Essentially the participant had to write their name and age at the top of the tag. The tag is labeled from Drink 1 to Drink 30, all participants had to drink the equivalent of their age by the end of the night. The slowest participants will be made to share a jug of alcohol. Participants are given the chance to reduce their drink count by performing a randomly suggested forfeit that may range from hitting on a stranger (Minus one drink) to dancing on the bar-top (Minus 3 drinks). The exact nature and weight of the forfeit is to be concluded unanimously so the more everyone drank the wilder the forfeit gets. GOOD TIMES.
Denny: Dude one glass is one shot of alcohol leh. Kenny: Issit? Denny: Yahlah I was a bartender before leh. Kenny: So 25 glasses sounds ok what. Denny: Eh dude, one bottle is 25 shots leh. Kenny: Wah so 25 drinks is one bottle ah? Denny: Yahlah, you siao ah each person drink one bottle. Kenny: Aiyah their drinks diluted one lah hahahaha.
Worst.Mistake.Ever.
It turned out the drinks at Rebel were toxic. We had Screwdrivers that contained no taste of Orange, Cranberry Vodkas that didn’t have a hint of berry, everything on our table reeked of vodka. By the 5th glass, everything caused a gag effect.By the time free-flow ended at 11.30, I was barely halfway into the game; I gazed down at my 12th glass and gulped it down while refraining it from coming back out. We headed to Zouk to continue the marathon.
Zouk was a blur, as people started to drop out and concede while others were puking their intestines out. Although 15 glasses sounds trivial, taken into perspective, it actually means all of us drank half a bottle of Vodka each.
By the end of the night, there was no doubt about it, we just experienced the BEST GAME EVER!
This is what you do when you can't decide whether to skate or ride a bike.
I don't have much money, but if I did, I'd buy a house where we both could live. I know it's not much but it's the best I can do. This bike's for you and you can tell everybody this is your bike.
I hope you don't mind that I put down in words, that I put down in words, that I put down in words, that I put down in words, that I put down in words, that I put down in words,that I put down in words, that I put down in words, that I put down in words, how wonderful life was when you were in my world.
YEAH YEAH YEAH YEAH YEAH YEAH YEAH SKATE THAT BIKE!!!!
It's Singapore Day tomorrow! This event is particularly significant to all the Singaporeans in London, because if you are currently in Singapore, you can have Singapore Day everyday, so bugger off.
Singapore Day is brought to you by our beloved nation to showcase our cuisine and culture (definitely 'kiasuism', because from what I heard, Singaporeans will be queuing up for hours even before the gates at Hampton Court are open). The very first Singapore Day was held in New York in 2007 and its response was overwhelming. Hardly suprising if you consider the fact that Singaporeans are naturally attracted to 'freebies'. So as the saying goes, "you can take a Singaporean out of Singapore, but never the Singapore out of a Singaporean!"
Hence, to coincide with this joyous occassion, I would like to take the opportunity to write a list of ten things that I LOVE about Singapore! (The list is not exhaustive)
10. Our license plate starts with a "S", helps to differentiate our vehicles from our friendly proton neighbours. 9. We have parking attendants that the coffee shop uncles call "Summon Lai Liao!" 8. What used to be a Hokkien word for the female genitalia (Che*B*e) has gain International recognition and now stands equal to the word "F*ck" in terms of versatlity in usage. 7. We call our hippies "Ah Bengs, Ah Lians, Mat, Minahs, and Kenny" 6. We are definitely not a racists country. We treat people from different races like our very own brothers. - "Eh Ah Bang! Egg Prata one!" 5. We call our friends' parents "Uncle" and "Auntie" when we have no whatesoever blood relations with them. 4. Office executives use tissue packets to "chop" or to indicate that the seat has been taken. So dont be mistaken, the tissue is not for free. 3. A bloody thrashy site, like STOMP, makes you wanan kick the contributor instead for invading people's privacy. 2. Zouk. It is one of the best nightspots around, you have to admit that. 1. My friends.
I was contemplating doing a review about my new Red Wings, but decided against it for now.
Instead, I will talk about how I am feeling rather bored with this lawyer training.
It kind of started last Saturday, when I met up with an old friend. He used to read the news on the BBC. When I met him, however, he had a new life and a new job in the adult film industry. We had planned on dinner and drinks, and we had both invited some other people. Unsurprisingly, my friend's "friends" included some of his work mates. So we ended up having drinks at some random guy's pad with Lela Star and Katsuni, which, to say the least, was a strange experience.
Actually, both Katsuni and Star were quite friendly, and the only persons who were star-struck were the waiters who probably thought they were playing a part in a porn film. Anyway, the girls had minimal make-up, and their skin wasn't exactly flawless. But they were nice people, and Star in particular was very interested in my bull terrier. I think she was thinking of buying one, but I hope I've dissuaded her. My life hasn't been the same since my dog died.
So yes, we drank and talked and people were snorting some random shit (including cinnamon powder), and it was generally a great night. But more importantly, it made me realise what a boring future I was about to embark on. The firm I'm joining is supposed to be okay, and the people are supposed to be bright, but whenever I compare firm-sponsored events with my secret life, I kind of wonder what I've let myself in for.
I'm not saying I want to become a porn star/ director/ cameraman. But maybe I'm more of a Red Wings guy than a Pregiato-wearing yuppie on a yacht. It certainly feels that way.
Amidst the drunken stupor, here's a hilarious Bollywood rendition of Michael Jackson's Thriller to stab you in the eyes. GIrrrrrrrrrlyyyyyyyyy Mannnnnnnnnnnn~
How many days do you need to plan for a 'kick-ass' party?
The answer in our case is 2 days.
Wednesday was the day the plans were thrown out over SMS exchanges between Denny and me. Prior to the BBQ plans, the original intention was to throw a steamboat party at my place but along the way the plans got skewed towards what was now a BBQ party. So I went home and booked the pits for Friday (2 days away) while Denny threw out the invites.
When the day came, we realized we overlooked the alcohol. This was a major problem because a party without alcohol is like a prostitute having her menses i.e. useless. By 5pm on Friday, we only had 3 confirmed bottles of alcohol and 2 bottles of wine, which was enough for a dinner party not a BBQ party. In view of our situation, I came up with a novel way to get drunk; since we usually played games to get people drunk I figured we could do the same thing with a twist. Only the winners get to drink. I marvel at my ingenuity as I logged off from MSN in time to get the food ready.
Food was from "The BBQ People" over at Frankel Ave (Most defuckinglicious Otaks and Lamb Chops ever) where everything is pre-marinated and prepared, so the only thing we need to do is to slap it on the fire while we cheat our way to the drinks. Life looks so much easier already. Denny was running late so Chloe, Chanel and me ran around stocking up on necessities and utensils.
By 7pm the pits were fired up as the people trickled in. By 8pm we realized the earlier worries we harnessed were unfounded. Justin came over with 3 bags of beer, Fucheng brought 2 six-packs and a bottle of Sheridan, Shawn prepared 1 bottle of Vodka and 2 bottles, Denny and Chloe decided to buy an extra bottle of Johnnie Walker while I brought another bottle of Martell from home. We soon realized we had ‘too much’ alcohol; we celebrated this fact by throwing random people into the pool. Denny, much like the incredible hulk tore off his tee and went berserk after being thrown into the pool with his mobile phone in his pocket. Thereafter, anybody who locked eyes with Denny would be dragged, screaming murder, into the pool. We tried to avoid his gaze by secluding ourselves as we munched on the incredible Lamb Chops and wings cooked up by Beng (Props to Beng for tending to the fire all night long).
As the night drew on, more and more people started to fill the chairs and the party spilled out over the deck chairs and benches surrounding the pool area. By the time we were done with the food, most of everybody was well on their way to getting smashed. Wallace was going around concocting vile mixtures of Martell and Green Tea scamming people into drinking while Denny was out and about making everyone finish half of whatever they are holding.
By 11pm I was wondering why the cops have not turned up since we were making so much noise Metallica could have hired us to warm up the crowds at their concerts (My mum said she could hear us from the 16th floor). Oblivious to our own antics, we continued making merry and getting people to drink as much as they can, if all of us were hunchbacks, we would qualify as a migrating herd of camels and Animal Planet would check us out in their next docudrama.
At 12am, my fears came true, one security guard came over to announce that they had received a complaint from a bothersome resident and urged us to lower the volumes. I announced this piece of news to everyone but the noise level went back up 15 minutes later. While we were body slamming one another in the pool a voice came from above, and we all thought God were speaking to us. We looked up only to find that God was living in the 6th floor unit directly above the pool.
6th Floor: CAN YOU GUYS KEEP IT DOWN IT’S 12AM!! Me: IT’S A FRIDAY NIGHT, YOU GOT NO LIFE AH??!
Immediately 4 security guards swarmed in on us in a coordinated effort much like how the riot police would dissipate an angry mob.
Guard: I’m sorry guys I have to ask you all to leave, otherwise we have to call the cops. Me: Ok ok give us some time to pack things up.
We soon learnt that thinking this promise would get them off our backs was the equivalent of thinking Paris Hilton wasn’t sleeping around. The guards decided the best way to make us leave was to stay around and watch us pack our stuffs before going back to their rest area for doughnuts.
Since my place was really close to East Coast Park, we concluded that it was the only logical place to go at this time of night. We packed the remainder of our drinks and headed over in 4 cars. Finding a secluded spot behind the McDonalds we parked and chilled about for abit, too drunk to look for a picnic spot and too lazy to wander away from the car.
Denny: Eh your car can tune in to my iPod’s frequency right? Me: Yah should be able to. Denny: OK tune in to 103.4fm Me: OKSo there we had music settled.
Two cars with the windows down, playing trance at max volume, overlooking the beach with the sand beneath our feet. It was like Zoukout, all over again.
To avoid suspicion, Denny emptied a few bottles of alcohol into the bottles of coke and went round making people drink in gigantic gulps. People walking by shot us angry and jealous looks. Oblivious to everyone else we were just too busy snapping photos, shouting and dancing. I’m sure if a patrol car spotted us, we would have all been hauled back to the station for interrogation, and I wouldn’t be surprised if someone called the cops on us. We were drunk, loud, obnoxious and loving every second of it.
What happened around the beach was a blur and I have little recollections of the minute details, but from the pictures we took it was clear that we had fun.
How a supposed ‘Chill Night’ unfolded into this wild party is beyond me. But one thing is certain, we just had the Best Party Ever! posted by Ken The Man at
6:33 PM
//Saturday, April 18, 2009 12:30 AM
Menses for you Sir?
I was surfing the net a couple of days ago and I came across this pretty cool article on Asiaone. It's about this Indonesian Maid mixing her menstrual blood into her employer's food in an effort to improve their employer-employee relationship. Pretty screwed up. When i was reading it, i realised that Kenny has an Indo maid as well, and seeing how he kicks and scolds her all the time, i thought I should share it with you guys.
In an attempt to 'voodoolised' her employer with the 'blood's' special powers, the Indo Maid allegedly mixed her 'blood' with vegetables and water. Her attempt to create this new delicacy was busted minutes later when her employer, Ms Mok, entered the kitchen.
Although, this incident may be funny to some, I do not think that it should be taken lightly, especially when Kenny loves eating his Mee Kua. As a matter of fact, he might have digested a few already. posted by John T at
12:30 AM
//Thursday, April 16, 2009 6:37 PM
The Sickest Video Part
Seriously WHAT THE FUCK was this guy thinking, this is probably the sickest video parts i've come across. Thanks to Dino for the heads-up.
(Look for more of this dude's clips on YouTube, definetely worth the effort)
Skateboarding and the authorities have always taken to each other like ice and fire. Things seem to have improved in recent years with the general public becoming more accepting towards our sport. But back in the times when i would label ourselves as ardent 'Skaters', the sight of a cop car causes a scrambling as everyone pick up their boards and flee in scattered directions. I remember once running all the way Raffles MRT right up to Far East Square, quite a distance i tell you, now whenever i drive that stretch, i mumble in disgust at what my body have become.
It used to be so bad, you would get a whole bucket of shit for mock-yelling "5-0!" while everybody is skating. It is not uncommon to see skaters like ourselves getting booked for skateboarding in public spaces and overtime, we have come to learn what to do and what not to do during such situations. For example, we have learnt that trying to run away only serves to double the offense if you're caught. So most often when the cops come to check us out we will not put up any forms of resistance (minus the time i was hiding in the bush) as we allow them to do their mandatory checks. We always get off with a warning, after which we would go get some food or drinks before coming back to the spot again. It was all good, kind of like a love-hate relationship.
And then there was HK.
Kurt and i met HK one night while skating at Roxy, Kurt being Kurt, invited HK to come join us for abit. HK was a little over Kurt's age, and had been skating longer than either of us. I remember at that point we were content with ollieing up or kickflipping up the set of 4 stairs at Roxy, but HK would do shove-its and 180s up those steps to our wide-eyed amazement.
Sometime back i met HK skating alone at Bedok park and had a little chat with him, he was doing some freelance editorial stuff for CLEO magazine (envy) and the following events would shock him out of street skating.
Back then, HK hadn't graduated from Harvard University and was back in Singapore on holiday. He made a few appearances with us, and we kind of hit it off from the beginning, then again, can Kurt ever 'not' get along with anybody?
There was one particular night, we were skating at Roxy (I'm sure I was there with Muhd and either Kurt or Mann) when the cops pulled up beside us. Me and Muhd were at the lower part of Roxy where the cops pulled up while HK was standing further away, above the stairs.
Instinctively when the cops came, me and Muhd proceeded to sit our asses down on the benched as we prepared our ICs for routine checks. When the two officers came up to us, HK was still standing rooted where he was but he seemed iffy and hesitant to comply.
Me: Dude what are you doing? Officer: Sir can you make your way down here please?
Hearing this must have set something off in HK's head because he bolted. He just got on his board and started pedalling with his backpack and everything. We saw him pedalling with all his strength trying to get away from the situation. On seeing this, one of the cops, a staff sergeant, gave chase whilst his partner stayed with us. HK was already quite a distance away.
Me: Fuck man the guy's a cheetah! Muhd: Yah sial.
The staff sergeant was a running machine, and we silently hoped HK manages to escape, because deep down we knew that if he got caught, he would be up to his eyeballs in shit.
On seeing the officer closing in, HK got off his board and popped it into his hands running now as fast as his legs could carry him. The officer must have been on steroids because he caught up with HK in no time at all. We saw from a distance away the officer in one swift motion grab hold of HK's backpack before flinging HK clear off the pavement onto the grass patch. The both of them could be seen rolling around as the officer tried to restrain HK as best as he could.
After what seemed like 15mins, the officer managed to pin HK face-down on the grass while he had his knees painfully pressed against HK's back. HK was brought back to us handcuffed and visibly shaken. Me and Muhd could only look on in shock as they made HK kneel down on the rough floor.
One officer emptied HK's backpack onto the floor indiscriminately as they rummaged through his belongings obviously searching for contrabands while the other went through his pockets and wallet for identifications.
Officer 1: Wah! Officer 2: What is it? Officer 1: Wah you're from Harvard ah? Are you sure? HK: Yes sir. Officer 2: Harvard also got people like you ah?
Before shoving him to the ground face first.
One of the officers poked HK indignantly with his boots as he questioned his identity and particulars.
Officer 1: What are you studying in Harvard? HK: ** mumbles something under his breathe ** Officer 2: Wah! I thought you study skateboarding in Harvard! Officer 1: No lah Harvard people where got skateboard one?
Altough not personally being involved in their interogation, i can't help but feel sorry for HK's plight being restrained and indignantly humiliated with derogatory remarks. At one point we even witnessed one officer roughly pressing his foot on top of HK's head.
Almost in tears, HK was led into the cop car as he was brough back into lockup. I stole a glance at HK as the car pulled away from Roxy. All i could see in that moment HK's eyes met mine, is melancholy and humiliation as me and Muhd sat on the bench in shell-shock silence.
We met up with HK a few times after that night to corroborate our statements. Apparently, the officer had accused HK of elbowing him when he tried to resist arrest and he was being tried for assault on a police officer.
Things turned out well after the trial and HK was deservedly acquited of the charges, but we were never to see him again.
When i talked to HK at Bedok Skatepark (almost 6 years after that night), he revealed that he was still scarred by the incident and that he only restricts himself to skating at parks and other designated areas for now.
You can take the Man out of the street, but you can never take the street out of the Man.
I apologise for this post having no pictures, so i will leave you with a picture of me frontslide boardsliding down a set of Handrail somewhere in Marine Parade. GOOD TIMES!!
(I'm deliberately keeping this entry short due to the massive amount of information required if i went into detail... also alcohol amnesia is a bitch)
Friday the 10th of April 2009, if you do not not know what day that is, please check your calendar. But if you're lazy and fat like us then just be informed that its Good Friday (Public Holiday). A Public Holiday that falls on a Friday simply means LONG WEEKEND, which is something to be treasured especially if you're holding down a shitty low-paying job.
My recollections of the past weekend is distorted and clouded, mostly due to the after-effects of binge drinking and alcohol amnesia. I don't remember a single particular day over the weekend where i did not wake up to find the room spinning against my will and my stomach churning like an overloaded dish-washer. God, i love the feeling of being inebriated.
Wednesday (Ladies Night)
John had told me previously that he would be having a classmate over from Nottingham and was wondering whether we could show him a good time. I smacked him squarely on his forehead for even suggesting that we need to "deliberately" have a good time.
So anyway i met up with John and his friend Adrian for dinner in Orchard Road. The idiot made me travel by cab to Suntec City only to inform me when i arrived that they are at Heeren. I had to keep myself from stabbing my ear with my earphones for not calling to check all the way during the ride from City Hall to Somerset.
I arrived at Heeren panting with beads of perspiration trickling down my forehead clearly agitated that i have visible sweat stains under my pits. Dinner was a simple fare of local cuisine specifically chosen for Adrian's visit.
We settled down at Indochines Wisma for some beers, capitalizing on their one-for-one promotion every weeknight before 9pm (Yap we know all the spots), as we awaited Elise, justin and Denny.
When everyone arrived we proceeded to Zouk's Kopitiam where Justin immediately ordered 10 bottles before we sat down. Me and Denny followed up with one more crate of beer as we played games amongst ourselves. By the end of this session we had consumed 2 crates of beer or as we overheard from the uncle, "Nabeh those people finish all the chilled Heineken already!".
We went into Zouk only to find our favourite waiter, who always saves a table for us and offers us the best deals, Jeremy, was on leave so we headed to the Member's Area for our shenanigans.
I cant remember what we had at Zouk but i think somewhere along the lines i took a couple of shots of Chivas so im sure Justin bought a bottle (or it could have been 2 bottles) either prior or after Kurt and Dino's arrival. But i ended the night pretty sloshed and drained. I remember when Dino sent me home i kept asking him not to talk to me and that i will fucking punch him if he tried.
Wait come to think of it, i remember there was some Vodka-Redbull and Whisky-Dry involved too. But i may be remembering that from another night, ah well we had a good one.
(Sorry to Yanie and Caesar, i know i saw you guys on Wednesday but i don't remember anything, anymore, hahaha, Good Times!!)
Thursday (Eve of Public Holiday)
Everyone was so wasted on Wednesday we couldn't finish the bottle of Chivas, so we had a very valid reason to go back to Zouk on Thursday. This is also why i think we had more than one bottle on Wednesday, because i seriously doubt we will finish 1/4 of a bottle before calling it a night. That would have been like going to the cinema just to eat popcorn.
I went to Kurt's home for some pre-drinks first, because Kurt mixes the meanest craziest concoctions i have ever tasted that is guaranteed to pump you up before you hit the clubs.
We met Justin and Eunice at Zouk, where we headed directly for the remaining bottle and since we're in time for Midnight Madness. I got us 4 more jugs of Apple Vodka and Kurt got another 4 jugs of Vodka Redbull. Between the 4 of us we had 8 jugs and 3/4 of a bottle of Chivas, we tried to hide our erection as we salivate over the drinks.
When John and Adrian arrived we had finished 4 jugs and 3/4 of the Chivas but since it was Adrian's last night in Singapore, he bought another 2 jugs together with John's additional 2 jugs. It was like Christmas all over again.
Chloe and Denny arrived much much later together with the rest of the gang and added more jugs into the list of drinks. I was in alcohol induced heaven by this time and when i'm high, "Everything is a good idea", even if it means thrashing about wildly on the podium of Zouk (Which we did, thanks to Kurt) to the disgust of everyone else on the dance-floor. I think the 4 (Kurt, John, Eunice and me) of us on the podium looked more like shark attack victims than anything else.
John, in a flash of brilliance, convinced himself that Wine mixed with everything else we had would be a good idea and proceeded to purchase a bottle of white wine, against our protests. If you do not know why we protested, it is because Wine does not mix well with alcohol and the combination taken in any order serves to double the alcoholic effect and/or vomitting. But we finished every single drop of it anyways.
I can't remember what happened next but the next thing i knew we were at Fei Fei and i was struggling to finish my Wanton Mee which kept threatening to regurgitate itself.
Friday (Good Friday)
By Friday, the thought of alcohol disgusted me, this was also the first time in my life i had to take 3 public transports just to get to zouk, only to alight at the wrong stop. I hate public transport.
Since we got off at the wrong stop, Shawn and me decided to grab dinner at Great World City since Justin was running late. We grabbed a quick bite at Yoshinoya where we were served by a waiter looking alot more like a Leprechaun than a human being. In fact he looked so much like one that it reminded me of the St Patrick's day elf and inevitably made me thirst for some beers. Damn you Leprechaun Man.
Shawn and me proceeded to have some beers at the Kopitiam while we waited for Justin. Justin arrived about 30mins later and we bought 5 more bottles of beer. Eunice saw us from another table and joined us for awhile. Bryan happened to be around the area too and came to meet us together with his friend Vodka.
We finished all the Beer and Vodka before we headed into Zouk feeling a little high already. Kelly called me when we're sipping our jugs at members and said that she wanted to have some beers but didn't want to come down to Zouk as she had to study for her exams, so i suggested Blooies which was just outside her home.
I received another call from Kelly about 30mins later saying that Blooies was already closed and that she would be making her way to Zouk within the hour. Hooray!! I celebrated her decision by opening a bottle of Chivas.
Denny and Chloe arrived awhile later and bought some drinks, so understandably, when Kelly arrived i was struggling to speak in complete sentences. I do not even remember when John arrived or how he made his way in. Good times!
I think we stayed till Zouk closed, but since Kelly didnt have enough drinks we decided to prolong our party at Balcony.
Worst. Decision. Ever.
The wait staff at Balcony must have had a long night because they didnt make us feel welcome, at all. The guy that served us was probably more drunk than us and struggled to make sense of our orders. This guy was drinking on the job, fairly obviously, i contemplated whether i should apply for a job at Balcony.
Everyone was pretty frustrated over the service we were getting and when the drinks came it was the wrong quantity. This guy deserves the Nobel Prize.
We ended the party close to 6am and when we got home it was pretty much 7am. I feel like a Camel.
Saturday (John's last day in Singapore)
Justin and me pretty much decided this was a chillout night free of binge drinking. Feeling safe in the comfort of this promise i drove out to meet John and Billy for dinner at Bugis (Fucking $11 chicken rice) before making out way down to Acid Bar.
On my drive over, Justin called and asked me what i thought of Vodka. My reply, "I thought you'd never ask."
I arrived to find the bottle of Vodka untouched as Justin sat on the couch grimacing at the bottle. We had a short discussion about how sick we were of alcohol while our hands instinctively readied a glass of vodka stirred with cranberry juice concocted with expert precision, and before we knew it we knocked back the first glass.
John and Billy arrived soon after and ordered a bucket of beer. Yanie and Caesar arrived about an hour later and Kurt came over around 11pm. Then Vaune popped by to see Kurt and John before she rushed off to Discovery. Beng and Charlotte happened to be at Alley Bar, so they dropped by for abit before going off to their movie. Everything happened in that order and i deserve a pat on the back for not being drunk yet.
We bought 2 bottles of whiskey from Cheers and made our way towards Kbox Cineleisure. Kurt entertained us with his rendition of old classics which our grandparents probably ever listens to and fast paced chinese hip-hop MC Hotdog style. Denny and Chloe came down from Zouk to join us followed by Beng and Charlotte after their movie.
I think we didn't need a microphone because the shouting seemed louder than what the amplifer can produce. Alcohol makes you oblivious to how stupid you look and in no time everyone was singing stupid songs and doing stupid dance moves in the room. The wait staff must hate us.
By the time we left at 4am, i had lost my voice and my enthusiasm for alcohol. The amount of alcohol we consumed over the weekend should qualify as a new form of torture in Guantanamo Bay.
Dreams... a series of images, sounds and feeling played out in the sub-consciousness with macabre realism. Typically lasting between between the ranges of 4 to 45 minutes, dreams take your sub-conscious mind through an entire series of experiences and activities you never thought achievable. Occasionally, there are the dreams that jolt you awake in half-panic and those that you find yourself lamenting why it had not been a reality.
Last night, my already overwrought mind played out a series of events in front of me that had me riding through an entire spectrum of emotional distress. It had me jumping for joy one minute and had me prancing on thin ice the very next, it was like riding on a roller-coaster before it derails or finding that you've exhausted your stash of condoms after foreplay.
For those of you that do not already know, I have been working hard to secure an internship deal with Mediacorp Publishing. I had not been happy at work for the longest period of time and had always wanted to get out of my current job. I've always had a love for writing and it wasn't until Kurt invited me to write on this blog that i truly realised how strong this relationship was.
Anyway back to the dream.
I saw myself meeting with the Editor who thoroughly enjoyed my articles (I know because he said so). He gave me his assurance that i would be given the job and that my previous submitted articles would be published after some minor re-work. However, since he didnt have the final say in this matter, he brought me to meet the Chief Editor. For some reason, i was dressed in a pair of jeans with a polo shirt and holding on to a 'walking stick'.
The Chief Editor (CE) was an Indian Man looking barely into his 40s, impeccably dressed with a pair of expensive gold-rimmed glasses nestled atop the bridge of his nose. It was clear from the start that this man had a commanding presence over his peers. I had barely made it pass the door of the CE's office when his booming voice asked:
Chief Editor (CE): What's that you're holding on to? Me: A walking stick sir. CE: A What? Me: A walking stick sir, a tongkat. CE: I know what a walking stick is, im asking why you're holding onto it? Me: I injured my knee Sir. (Pretending to limp over to the chair)
The Editor briefed him about my request before handing over a set a printed copy of the 5 articles i had submitted. He leaned back on his chair as he prepared to go through my papers. I felt myself overwhelmed with a feeling of doom as the room fell into an eerie silence as we awaited his say.
He had barely gone through half of my first 2 articles before he said:
CE: I think i've wasted enough of my time reading these 2 articles. Editor: But Sir, I think he has the potential, he just needs a little..... CE: ENOUGH! You may leave the room first!
*Editor curses under his breath as he gets up to leave*
*Turning to me*
CE: What makes you think you're a writer? Me: Sir, I've always had a passion for......... CE: Im not asking why, im asking what. Me: Sorry Sir? CE: I don't think you can write Me: But your editor said... CE: I have the final say in this matter!
*Rips the paper infront of me*
CE: You have insulted me with your mediocre writing and wasted my time Me: I'm sorry CE: Now get out.
I swore at one point i saw horns growing out the sides of his head as he flicked his forked tongue at me. I saw the room spin around me as his laughter filled the room. That was the last thing i remembered before being dragged out of the office by security personnels.
I broke out of my sleep breathing heavily and relieved that it was only a dream, rationalizing to myself that dreams usually appear opposite to reality i thought of happy things as i drifted back to sleep. It wasn't long before i was dreaming of happier things like unicorns and popsicles.
posted by Ken The Man at
5:42 PM
//Friday, April 10, 2009 5:08 AM
Meow
So after repeated exhortations from various people, I have agreed to limit my posts to shoes and random other stories that excite and titillate.
To commemorate this stupendous moment, this post will relate my experiences at Jiak Kim Street this week.
I had fun. I was smashed. I drank whiskey and vodka and chewed on crushed ice. There were many people.
Of course, I hadn't planned on going out at all, especially given the very short holiday I had been granted. But that changed rather quickly when I realised what I had been missing.
Your colleagues avoid socializing with you because you're "Different" and half their age.
You wonder why nobody wears t-shirt and jeans on casual Fridays.
Every morning you shed a tear or sob while dressing up.
You start dreading the Monday Blues on Saturday.
You look forward to going home on your way to work.
People say "What are you doing in this industry?" when you tell them your major in school.
Your boss expects you to be as experienced as people double your age.
Your boss insists paper qualifications are useless and urge you to work harder when you told him your plans to study part-time.
You get blamed for mistakes that are discussed in meetings, because you spend most of the meeting translating the discussions from Hokkien or Cantonese to English.
You spend your office hours thinking of 10 reasons why you're in the wrong job.
Maybe i should do a top 10 list every Wednesday... how's that? posted by Ken The Man at
2:33 PM
