jon's blog

i could go on for 40 days and 40 nights about my blog title and bore you to bits and pieces with 10,000 different ideas i actually had for the name of this blog but because of the 500 characters limit that is imposed upon this mechanism which, by the way, is supposed to promote free speech, i shall shorten it to just two words basically describing what the hell this is all about and who this hell belongs to.
Monday, October 30, 2006

10 things that cross the gay man's mind everyday

1) why is the fat man with no top on, sitting in the gym toilet and staring at me?

2) omg. WHY is he staring at me?

3) is he gay?

4) what if he's not gay?

5) okay even if he's not gay, he still can be converted, right?

6) black is still the new black.

7) what sort of haircut is that?

8) she has like no breast lor. why is she wearing just scraps of linen?

9) shit. hot guy. suck in stomach.

10) mmmm. i wanna fuck the shit out of that guy.

9) is he gay?

10) what if he's not gay?


Thursday, October 26, 2006

the thing i do to earn money

i hate having to live a frugal lifestyle. i mean, the word 'frugal' already conjures up images of shabby one-room gah-men owned apartments, cup-noodle dinners and feature episodes on Extraordinary People. don't get me wrong, i would love to stay in a one-room apartment and have cup noodles for dinner everyday, but even my current financial status would not allow that. why? because i am living off my savings of only about $1.5k. and it's draining. transportation is expensive. clubbing is expensive. cigarettes are pretty expensive too. come to think of it, i haven't bought anything for myself for the past 2 months. other than a copy of 8 days. jason hahn had better read this. i skipped 1 x tea-break so that i can buy 8 days okay!

but thank god for jobs. jobs that pay the rent. jobs that add some significance to my blog address. yes, it's true! starting from the 23rd of October, spankthemalenurse is officially a BLOG BELONGING TO A REAL REGISTERED NURSE (triumphant gay anthems and sparkles!). can you believe it? after 2 bloody slack years serving my previous organization, i am now actually working. and just like planting rice, it's never fun.

nursing is not exactly a damn fun job. why? because you can't afford to look like you're slacking. the patient's relatives are a bunch of sharp-eyed nasty people. ok lah, not all of them. but a minority. most of them are very nice if you help them. the motherfuckers are the ones who see you do something that remotely looks like taking a breather, then HA! complaints! crticisms! upper managements! the works! and i don't like to get stressed up and frenzied in a high-paced environment like the hospital. thus to act busy, i always carry something in my hand. normally it'll be a urinal.

and apparently, my ward has this very anti-break sentiment. yes, we're all entitled to our tea and lunch breaks. but everyone is working so hard and so busy that they don't have time for a break. me on the other hand, will always make time for breaks. no matter what, i will drop everything and just rush to the rooftop for a smoke or downstairs for a juice or something. but it's difficult in my ward, given that EVERYONE starts work looking glamorous and ends looking like shit (and smelling like it too). you will actually feel guilty for taking a break. and that's not good. but then again, i'm immune to gossip and criticisms. so breakaway, i say!

but still, it doesn't help having to start the first day of your job on everyone else's payday. my first day of work, everyone was receiving their pay transcripts. and there i was with only S$50 in my wallet to last for the whole of next month. i keep the rest of the $1.5k with the parents, see. so i have to go through them and several lectures before i can actually gain access to my money. tedious, but what to do?

so the next time you see a hot nurse carrying a urinal and looking really frugal and all, please give him some spare change amounting to 2 dollars. at least let him have his 8 days.


Thursday, October 19, 2006

22

i've been through 21 birthdays so far. and frankly speaking, most of my birthdays are really shitty occassions. i don't like to really celebrate or to even hold birthday parties. there will be all that incessant worrying about whether your friends will turn up for your party or not. and things like catering and balloons and music and whether to have the relatives present for your party. it's all too nerve-wrecking for me to plan. maybe when i turn 40 lah, when i'm a rich fuck, then i can throw money to someone who has the energy and drive to plan something like that for me. there'll be chippendales, leather chaps, free flow of Merlot, and chippendales in leather chaps flowing freely in Merlot. and who knows, i might just dress up as a religious leader and offend the whole of Singapore for kicks.

but it's kinda true that as you get older, each birthday seems to lose more and more of its significance. so much so that you have to actually look for some value-added meaning to your 26th, 29th, 32nd or 37th birthday. all these wierd 'in-between' numbers that indeed, are just redundant milestones of your life that you wish the LTA or HDB could have demolished along with their urban renewal projects. in fact, 22 is one of these uesless birthday years. like what in the world am i going to celebrate 22 for? i've just turned into an adult a year ago and i'm opening my eyes to all this shit in the world. and you want me to rejoice?

this year was a relatively quiet year apparently. the father brought the family out for dinner. the original plan was to go for Kushinbo (a japanese buffet resturant best remember for its irritating as hell advertising jingle) at Suntec City. but they were working late and by the time they got home, were too tired to go down to town. when i just arrived back from Brunei, the father also wanted to take us to Kushinbo. he came back late. the mother came back late. the brother was even later. in the end we had zi char. well, at least this one has a slightly better ending. we had Fish & Co at Jurong Point.

my family are not very lavish people. but they are awfully generous. and i swear that they are absolutley attrocious at buying a lot of gifts. everytime they visit someone in the hospital, it's butter cookies. church friend's birthday? some religious reading material. relative's birthday? regifting. christmas? MAJOR REGIFTING. and if they can do it to the relatives and outsiders where it's all about face and pride, then what more the son. my dad had a birthday budget of $150. and i'm thinking, hello! i'm your son, the one who vacuums your floor and does your laundry and tries not to live off you as much as possible. and all you can spend for me on my birthday is $150?

in the end, we settled for a $225 Swatch whereby i paid the extra $65 bucks. the brother chipped in an extra $10. new concept hor? you and the parents share money to buy your birthday present. maybe i'm being too much of a prick by asking for more than the parents can chew. because October is one of those months where there's a heavy birthday rate. i have at least 4 relatives whose birthdays fall on October, and that's not including the church people and outsiders.

the presents resized
(clockwise from upper left) fruit of the looms, fuchsia (how awfully gay!), some doggy toy, and regifting

and speaking of relatives, they've loaded me with another bunch of red packets. and i tend to equate monetary amounts from relatives with your general ratings with them. i've got 50 from the grandma, 50 from the god mother, 20 from the stingy auntie and another 30 from the affluent auntie. my cousins wrote cards and practiced very bad quality regifting for the birthday. they gave me a photoframe of bears and the box that came along with it had plenty of scotch-taping. oh, and a doggy toy. like what am i going to do with it? i hate impractical gifts. i swore to myself that if i ever get an impractical gift, something that i can't use, it goes straight to the regifting box. presents for the general public and relatives. as you can see, i'm not part of the inner circle when it comes to the relatives. i love my grandma and my godmother from the bottom of my heart. and that's all. the rest can just kick the bucket or something.

but it was really sweet of my two young cousins (they popped out from the affluent auntie), what with their birthday cards. grace (the younger one) drew pictures of fruits (pineapples, strawberries and i dunno.... dates?). while John (my auntie named him after me, which is a bad mistake, cos he's awfully gay for a kid: he reads, he hates playing with other kids, he laughs with his hand covering his mouth and he wears glasses), wrote greetings on fuchsia-coloured paper. that particular auntie has like a Degree or Masters in Childhood Educationor something like that. and she's always wanting the kid to be proactive and stuff. very 7 habits. i really wouldn't be surprised if they come out damaged some day.

so the birthday has come and gone. and all that's left behind is 22 years of pretty good living. and i'm praying for many more to come. thanks to all the people who sent all the birthday greetings. and thanks to Friendster for reminding all those horrid people who forgot about it.


Tuesday, October 17, 2006

potluck

there's a really sweet couch my neighbour has placed outside their home. that's where i normally smoke other than at the kitchen window. usually, it's quiet and the only thing you can hear is the general sounds of life that God has piped into the limited soundtrack of the world. but just now, my downstairs neighbour was quarelling in tamil for some reason. and they were throwing metallic kitchen utensils around the house. or at least they were throwing something metallic. which then reminded me about something characteristically chinese that my colleagues in brunei used to tell me.

back in hongkong, there were many parents that were clueless as to what name they would give their child. so it's times like these that the hongkies (being asians), would emphasize their unity in strength. the relatives would organize gatherings where they would have to bring any random kitchen object as an offering. you could present like pots, pans, ladels, calypots, rice cookers, etc. brings a new meaning to potluck eh?

and what they would do, is they would throw these various bric-a-brac of crockeries together and against each other. and here's the important bit: they need to listen to the sounds when clay meets metal. or perhaps when metal hits floor. or even worse, metal and clay hits human.

and thus Tang Kok Piang was born. and similarly a Kok Ah Piang was born with someone sustaining an injury. don't ask me about Yang Yang though, that's China.


Monday, October 16, 2006

for the rejected and outcasted



this is one of my favourite punk rock videos of all time.
yes i know, it reminds everyone of Paul Twohill unfortunately. and yes, it also reminds me of many other kids who like My Chemical Romance because they are 'cool, hip and trendy' (or whatever words that the kids use these days). but basically, the whole video is set in a boarding school, it features outcasted people, toilet sex, the revenge of the nerds, a gay scene and loads of punk rock. everything that i would ever want in a music video. plus i can associate with most of the outcasting on it too. my secondary schoolmates made life pretty miserable in secondary school.

so this one goes out to all the fat and ugly secondary schoolmates that i don't keep in contact with anymore. may you live your boring HDB flat lives in eternity.


Friday, October 13, 2006

the gay man in the straight club

combined MOS outings

like madonna, i have a confession to make and it's regarding a dancefloor.
until yesterday, i have never ever gone for an RnB/Hip-Hop night before. apparently, i have been hitting gay clubs so much that i haven't really had the chance to experience the straight ones. and that's bad, because i am a firm believer of balance and all that ying-yang shit. you see, the bad thing about my gay journey is that it's a solo journey. i learnt everything about being gay by myself. i didn't have any (as the cheena-piangs so love it) god-brothers or kors to educate me about AIDs, condoms or anal sex. no one taught me the velvet high-grade thousand thread-count ropes to being a gay guy. in fact, most of the stuff was play-by-ear or something that i read up on the internet. so thank god for technology.

i can't really imagine myself dancing to 50 cent (fiddy sent, not fifty cent), Ja Rule, The Game or even Janet Jackson (supposedly to be slightly more gay-friendly) for that matter. so what more hitting the Ministry of Sound on a thursday night when they spin R&B/Hip-Hop on the main floor? but you see, like the typical Singaporean, i could never ever pass up on a free trip to anything above the value of S$0.99. and the typical entrance fee for the Ministry of Sound being $25, i would have to sell my private entrances, in order to pay for their entrance.

the event was called Tertiary Fling, organized by whosgoing.sg. i have no idea what this organization represents, or how they earn money or whatever logistics behind it all. i only know that they organize free parties and all you have to do is register with them. i have yet to receive barrages of junk mail or free porn flooding my mailbox. i still have my firefox homepage set at the CASE website though. but from the name of the event, you can tell it was going to be flooded with JC and Poly kids. and true enough, the whole place was steaming with puberty or people who have just reached the pinnacle of their puberty. there were a lot of hot people there. i was prolly more like luke-warm or something.

and for this next part, i simply have to blog it out for the good of society. because this is one prime example of the lamity (is there such a word?) of disillusioned kids trying to follow the psuedo-hip-hop culture that we have in Singapore. i mean, like do we even have a hip-hop culture in Singapore? you get me some hookers and bitches, men with UZIs in passing cars, the ghetto, loads of G Unit apparel and some bling-blings and maybe we can turn Geylang into our next area where these kids can go slum it out for all i care.

well, april, gina and me were in the queue trying to get into the Ministry of Sound. and along comes this fashionably 'pai kua' (hokkien for terrible-looking) specimen of a guy that doesn't need a warrent to be arrested. he's wearing some cheapo unidentifiable sporty t-shirt (it looked like something kids would wear to their sports day event), layered with a striped long-sleeve shirt underneath, typically boring jeans and get this: HE WAS ACTUALLY WEARING LOW-HANGING BLING-BLINGS. and very noisy ones at that. in fact, so noisy were they that it's more like KLING-KLINGS than BLING-BLINGS. and to top it off, he was trying too hard with an accent which was a fusion of a black rapper and the cleaning uncle at your office. he looked like a very lost cheena-piang teenager hitting the clubs for the first time.

according to april, he was one of the ambassadors for whosgoing.sg and he was supposed to be giving out the free tickets. the concept was that the more tickets they give out, the more privileges they would have access to from the website. meaning more free entries to local clubs and VIP rooms and god knows what makes people go to these parties lah. true enough, he came up to us and offered us his free tickets. combine his terrible accent with the incessant clinking of his chains and this is what he said to us:

'Yo yo guys! *klink* I've got some *klink* free tickets here *klink* man! (whips out tickets *klink* *klink*). They're like free man *klink*! You want some or *klink* not man? *klink* *klink*.'


even reading this shit is already so irritating, imagine listening to it. i think to get rid of him we just took his tickets, said thanks and sent him on his noisy way. and guess what was written on the back of the tickets? ALI - 93848473
it's a really warped world, i say.


Wednesday, October 11, 2006

headache

my head is going through such pain now. i took a three hour siesta in the afternoon, and woke up to only find that there's a big rumbling headache in my head. and i actually wanted to go jogging, but i guess that will have to be postponed. wah lau, it's like stuffing my head between a chee bye for God knows what reason. and a very tight one at that. i feel nauseous actually. and i'm not typing this rationally.


Monday, October 09, 2006

an ode to the brother

DSC00111-1
he's camera shy

i have a brother and his name is Jeremy.
i'm not close to the brother at all. friends and relatives have always asked me why i call him by name rather than address him as 'brother' or 'di'. i tell them that he's just not close to me at all. we have actually tried many many many times to make some sort of small talk, the same way my parents attempt to over meals. it's all in vain. we've tried talking about clubbing (he doesn't), we've been through our tastes in music (we both like alternative rock and indie bands), we've talked about girlfriends, and he probably knows that i'm gay (he has seen my limewire download list which is chock full of Falcon and Sean Cody). despite the fact that we sleep in the same room everyday, we still don't really talk unless need be (eg. Kor, if mommy ask tell her that i'm in school (in the background: ORCHARD, please alight) or Jerry, don't tell mommy i smoke).

while i was away in brunei, the brother had an absolutely fun time wearing ALL my gay clothes. he exposed himself to pullovers and layering and NUM shirts and singlets. he's slimmer than me by a lot (28 inch waist, i wear 32). so basically everything i wear, he can definitely fit into it. almost all my bags that i left behind in singapore were destroyed by him. a missing zipper. stains of suspicious origins. lending my stuff to someone else without asking me. but for the good of the general public, he dresses better now. so i can't really complain. imagine, he used to be a big fan of those gargantuan basketball shorts and Trail slippers. he would pair both up and happily go to town in them. and unless you're african-american or above the 1.85m tall, you should never even consider purchasing a pair of basketball shorts. we don't talk to each other, so in my heart, i would be like 'whatever, victim'.

the brother doesn't have much friends, actually. in fact, the only one i know of that he always hangs out with is this particular church chap. he's nerdy, he has no manners, and he reeks of HTML and java. ok lah, everyone needs a techy-kinda friend. i in particular need a tech-friend cos nursing taught me everything about saving lives, but absolutely nothing about saving lives ONLINE. one would be more than enough. nobody needs an entire cohort of nerdy, DOTA-playing and horribly ill-mannered friends. well, the brother, same guy who shaves his legs with Veet and spends 15 hours a day sleeping, has not only a platoon but more like a company of them as pals.

he invited this particular church guy over today. and i've never really liked the guy cos he's damn rude and totally no manners. there's no thank you in his vocabulary and he speak in incoherent sentences, like he has some sorta impediment that garbles his speech. my dad gave him a lift home from church once, and he practically ORDERED my dad to send him home (Uncle, woodlands). he was condemned as the 'rude boy' that day since. they're playing some snipering game outside and actally having the time of their lives. the nerd is laughing like a crony. while the brother, whom i have never heard laugh before, makes an indistinguishable sound between a grunt and the clearing of phlegm.

but as much as the brother really irritates without saying anything at all, i still kinda care for him a lot. he's like the only direct blood relation i have besides the parent. in fact, the only one who likes nearly the same things as i do. we're both nurses, we both play the piano, we like Dashboard Confessionals (though i prefer another series of Confessions that involve a dance floor), we love movies, etc. i think we have a lot in common, someone just has to initiate dinner or something.

the question here is, WHO?


Sunday, October 08, 2006

(for lack of a better title) haze

i tell you, this haze is like getting from bad to worse. pretty soon, we'll be following the hongkies, wearing cheesy face masks of hello kitty and doraemon. in fact, i saw one uncle covering his face with a hankie while waiting at an open-aired MRT station at 1205am at night. my knees are cramping up for some reason (blame the haze). i'm having an outbreak (blame the haze). singapore looks like a scene out of old England (blame the haze). and the randomly put-together Singapore skyline suddenly looks much better (thank the haze!).

you know what our gah-men should do now? ban those indons from fire usage plus sue their asses for like a gazillion rupiah. then when you convert everything over to sing dollars, we would have just enough to treat the lawyers to Mee Soto. the leftover change we'll send it to Aceh for tsunami relief or something.


Saturday, October 07, 2006

the anatomy of a handkerchief (part 1)

singapore is such a bloody hot place. and coupled with the fact that i sweat and get as wet as a bitch in heat very easily, it's no joking matter. i usually spend 10 minutes walking from my home to the MRT station. and it's just within this 10 minutes of walking under the 7am sky, that i can already build up generic sweat stains on my clothes. and unless i have my handkerchief with me, i normally tell the general public that it's some trashy ink-blot design that i bought from an equally trashy clothing store with an equally trashy name (eg. a dairy product?!).

DSC00220-1
guns and poses

but yes, today's topic will be about the most indispensible thing to me whenever i head out to town (other than the handphone, keys, wallet, condoms, IDs, some concealer, money, good underwear, decent clothes, some confidence and myself). other than the above mentioned, it has to be the handkerchief. i've been an avid fan of the handkerchief since my kindegarten days. back then, i used to carry those gaudy yellow/blue/pink-chequered hankies which were really furry and super absorbant. you could clean stained parquet flooring or italian tiling with those fabrics in just one wipe! thus, what more yourself???

i remember one time in pre-school, i had a really bad tummyache from ingesting too many fishballs at one go. there was this birthday party (i think it was mine), and there were bee hoon, hot dogs, fried fishballs and a magnificent cake in the shape of a red car (my dad's car back then was a nostalgic red Suzuki, loads of memories). there were even those customary/mandatory little gift packets filled with kiddy goodies that i gave out to the friends. i was basically the star for the day. amidst all the festivities though, i had one too many balls, resulting in the tummyache as mentioned.

tummyaches lead to pooping. and pooping leads to toilets. and toilets lead to toilet paper. and apparently, the chain stops there because (and please cue the traumatising music) THERE WAS NO TOILET PAPER!!! now this is like every cheena-piang person's worst nightmare, because they would never ever stick their hands down there to give it a good water washing. which was namely what i didn't do back then. it was my birthday, there were people waiting outside the toilet for me to cut the cake. they prolly wanted to surprise me when i stepped out of the cubical with shit-stained hands. couple that with the fact that i didn't have toilet paper and you've got yourself a stressful situation. but ah..... i did have THE HANKIE. the super absorbant one with the chequered-squares that i wiped my arse with, gave a good wash in the sink, dried it and put it back in my pocket.

if the DJ saved my life last night, well then the hankie rescued my hole from a shitty unhygeinic death during my youth. and in case you're wondering, NO i didn't put the hankie back in my pocket. i threw it away okay!



About Me


Name: the nurse
Home: Singapore
About Me: i'm a nurse, i'm gay, i smoke, i play the piano, i patronize the theatre, i flip through glossy magazines for no apparent reason, i love sex, i am a left-handed libran, i watch art-house films mostly, i love house music, and did i say i love sex?
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