ever since my return from brunei, i seem to be experiencing a writer's block. it's like no matter how i think it through, i just can't seem to inject any form of humour into my blog posts. i keep hitting the same blocks over and over again. in fact, i was going to come up with a corny joke about a few blocks of HDB apartments and how i could give you an address for that. you see! it's that bad.

it's tragic because everyday (without fail), i spend about a half hour or so just staring at the blogger page. i sit down, draw mind maps, brainstorm for a million and one humourous ideas and even googled for some hatha yoga techniques to 'cleanse the mind and release all inner inhibitions'. all in the hope that just a teensy-weensy bit of humour just secretes from the brain.

but those freakin creative juices don't seem to be flowing at all (though the same can't be said of the reproductive juices, hur hur hur). like i always tell myself, when there's no more shit, there's no point forcing the shit out. it's not just a metaphor, but also a really handy philosophy during days of poor fibre intake. so when them words are not working too well, you ask the pictures to speak for you.


Chocolats aux spiritueux d'origine



i love my chocolates. i love my alcohol. and i love the Frrrrench.
and if polygamy was widely practiced amongst the French, i would have forced a marraige on all three of them eons ago already. so it was to my joy and delight when my affluent paternal auntie (she named her son after me; yah! she named her son after a gay guy! which is why i think she's affluent) brought along some chocolates for a house party at my home. these bottle-shaped chocolates had hollow centres filled with original liquor. so whatever brand the wrapping reflected, that particular type of alcohol could be found inside it. kinda hard to get drunk on that shit, but who cares, those chocolates were deeee-leeee-shous. it's actually a little bit like eating one of those Crystal Jade Xiao Long Bao (small dragon dumplings) thingees. only difference? it's a battle between two vices and alcohol trumps pork broth anytime.

now, my paternal family are like the holiest people i've ever seen. they pray and they commit everything to the good Lord and everybody reads their bibles and their Daily Bread faithfully everyday. actually, when you compare an average paternal family member to me, i'm like the anti-christ complete with hell-bent ambition to end the world in fire and brimstone. alcohol is one of those things that my extended family don't really loosen up to. the irony is that, if they were to start drinking some form of alcohol, i bet they would straightaway loosen up and not be so anal about everything in life. ok, let's give them credit. they've tried red wine lah. but they didn't really like it. so i ended up polishing off the entire bottle of Merlot. and let's just say that particular evening ended off on a really high note. that's the good thing about being the devil's advocate in a family of saints.

as i expected, nobody dared to touch the chocolates. which resulted in me eating most of them. i think i consumed about 5 of them while watching the mandarin 6.30 news on that sunday evening. the dark chocolates were shitty of course, but once you bit into the chocolates, liquor just flowed smoothly into your mouth. it's as if your senses were like a t-shirt and the laundromat just took it for a good washing in alcohol. there were sixteen, i polished off 8 in one night. so there's another 7 left. 7 green bottles, standing on the wall, 7 green bottles, standing on the wall and if 1 green bottle were to accidentally fall then.... yum yum *hic*


Paskerbrod



there are only two reasons why Singaporeans would bother to visit ikea. and not surprisingly, both of them are F-words. FOOD and FURNITURE. ikea always brings about memories of their $1.20 swedish hotdogs with their ingenious cow-udder inspired sauce dispenser. unfortunately, everytime i use the dispenser, i cannot help but notice that the base is flooded with dribbles of chilli and mustard. all pointing to evidence of inaccurate aiming. on the really busy peak periods, it's messier and grosser than your average hawker centre toilet. i'm sure somwhere along those lines, there's a co-relation between men peeing and inaccurately squeezing sauces out of an udder. i just had two helpings of ikea sausages the other day. it was bliss.


the broom machine



i have been doing some major re-organizing during the past few days. apparently, there's an unstated rule that when a member of the family has left the country for more than a year, his/her cupboards can be used to keep other things like bedsheets and blankets and old clothes and textbooks. coincidentally those cupboards were the same place where i had stashed my DVD porn collection. and so out went the VERY EXPENSIVE Falcon DVDs (thanks to the father) and in went the stuffy old comforters.

thus began a major upheaval of all the old stuff and to tell the truth, i'm quite a bit of the hoarder. if the firemen were to come and inspect my home, they would declare my cabinets a fire hazard. if the psychiatrist were to pay me a visit, she would declare me an obsessive-compulsive schizophrenic. and so it was amongst all the evidence of my shameful past that i discovered something from the folly of my youth.

and this will be a bit of a sidetrack: remember the days when NEOPRINTS were all the rage amongst the teens of the late 90s? i used to be an obsessive-compulsive freak over neoprints. i collected so many that i started sticking them onto a transparent folder that i used to keep worksheets from school in. i had one entire A4-sized folder with neoprints of friends and people. apparently, you'll be hardpressed to find a picture of me amongst those neoprints. i was good at getting neoprints, but taking a picture of me in them was never gonna happen. as i have mentioned a million and one time before, i look really horrid in front of a camera. and the same goes for being in a neo-print machine. i kept hoarding neoprints but never wanted to take one for myself.

so it was with trepedition and much apprehension that i was finally convinced to try out a sticker printer machine during my 10 days of leave. the screwed up thing was that it was entirely in japanese and i had absolutely no idea where the camera was pointed at. so half the pictures were taken in clueless poses, not knowing where to look. i thought that we looked pretty cock-eyed, looking at everywhere else except the camera. and to crown of the entire experience, we had to go to the Broom to get our photos edited and touched up. it was actually the B-Room (as in A, B, C and B-room). but they fucked up the grammer.




you know what's the most amazing thing about this post?
i spent 8 bloody long days trying to type this out. and if you've read this line, i've just spent another 2 editing and trying to add in wit and pun in every corner of this post. which is why i need a break from typing blog posts. blogging is supposed to be fun. not a social responsibility or anything like that. not that i have been very productive with my blog anyways. you see, i don't even care how i end this blog post already. normally there would be something witty or even remotely punny here. but i can't seem to think of any now. never mind lor, just insert another picture.



(NB: i bought this in Suntec City. it's two wrestlers indulging in some form of fetish tantric sex. and it's hanging from my handphone as a keychain now)

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