|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.|
Tuesday, November 28, 2006
micropore and my por por
(model used is above the age of 18 and a consenting and very much willing partner)
now to dispel all the myth behind micropore, this is what this shit is about.
judging from the comments from the previous post, nobody seems to know what micropore is. which is actually quite tragic. i'm a firm believer that every single person in Singapore has prolly seen micropore somewhere, some time in their life. it could be at the hospital, the home, the pharmacy, the one-ninety-nine shop, some BDSM club or somewhere. the practicality of the micropore tape is so varied and so imaginative. you only need to release your inner inhibitions and let your thoughts run wild. and when i say wild, i mean that in a wild-and-dirty-kinda way.
i vividly remember my paternal grandmother during my childhood days (and she's still alive and kicking okay, though i hope not kicking the bucket anytime soon yet). my family used to stay together with the grandma and the father's sister's family. it was cramped quarters and boy, was i was really living in the heartlands. there were domestic fights, malay weddings, wierd curry smells emanating from various parts of the house, a mamak shop downstairs selling tabacco leaves and chewing gum, and of course prank calls to the police. my grandmother had her own room with the grandfather. it was purple, kinda like the same colour as King's yam ice-cream. so that actually makes it lavender instead right? damn embarassing if i dunno, cos i'm gay and i should.
and one of the things i remember vividly about my childhood (and this is really wierd) would always be my grandmother squatting on the floor using micropore to stick up the stray hairs that falls after she combs through her majestic mane. and not to boast, but my grandmother is quite chio for her age (65 if i'm not wrong). she has this face that speaks of love and the heartlands and of course a life of malay weddings, curry odours and 999 prank calls. and she has A LOT OF HAIR. like she can afford to drop hair everyday and still look like a Pantene model.
walking into her bedroom, you would always be greeted with the sight of hair on the floor. sometimes they cluster together and form their own clumps and start rolling about when the air-con blows. a bit like a scene out of a western (cue the cowboy music). so imagine her sticking that massive amount of hair onto just a teeny-weeny bit of micropore. she loves to scare the shit out of me by flashing the many twangs of hair stuck onto the micropore.
maybe that's where i got that fear of chee byes from.
Thursday, November 23, 2006
hi sir, i am staff nurse jonathan and i would appreciate it if you would fuck off and let me do my work
it's been nearly a month since i started working at the hospital. and i can proudly and yet sadly say that i have done the job scope of every employee of the hospital. i have PR-ed my way to the patient's hearts, boot-licked my nurse managers, cleaned up shitty messes, became the middle man between relatives with bad blood, made a thousand cups of Milo, even more medical appointments, and of course, attended to the whims and fancies of all my patients. all this on top of my basic job scope of being a staff nurse.
i have been complaining to every single person that bothers to talk to me about how shitty my job can be. this job is a love-hate relationship. i love caring for people and cleaning up shit and making medical appointments and serving medications and lying to the patient's about placebo effects. stuff like that. in fact, nursing would be such a perfect job for me if not for just one thing: they get in the way of work, they refuse to get away from your way of work, and they will prolly not get away from your way of work unless you assuage their guilt of not being 'able' to visit their loved ones in the hospital as often as they would like to. yes, the PATIENT'S RELATIVES are what i'm talking about.
you'll be surprised at how ugly Singaporean relatives can get at a place of recuperation like the hospital. tempers flare when people don't get what they want. the patient's relatives think that they deserve Merlot even though the pay the price of artificial grape juice. and most patients in the hospital are paying subsidised grape juice prices with 7% GST. so, obviously they won't be getting what they want most of the time. the patients are okay lah. i mean, they are so sick and high on painkillers anyways, so they don't irk the shit out of you. but the patient's relatives... oh my goodness, they are what we nurses would like to call F+++.
if i had it my way, i would charge a dollar for each time the patient's use the callbell. i would limit relatives to only 2 a day (though the relative would complain that they are paying afterall, albeit subsidised, hospital bills and still deserve that half a room their entire extended family from Manchuria are taking up every weekend). i swear i would limit their thousand and one queries to only 3 a day.
it's always their incessant questions that really hinder work. and after a month of the hospital, i have managed to compile a list of question that i really dread answering. not because i'm bored or i'm underpaid or whatever. but simply, because EVERY relative always has the same questions in mind. here's my top 5.
Top 5 Irritating Questions That The Patient's Relatives Ask
1) Is (insert patient's name) back from the operating theatre yet? How did the operation go? Why is it taking so long? (for the 4th time in a span of 1 hour)
the relatives simply don't get it. just like our singaporean women, our nurses also need their own credit card line complete with spa privileges and VIP entry into MOS. when we say that your loved one is still in the theatre, HE'S REALLY STUCK IN THE THEATRE. please believe us. go home, have a shower, have a quickie, go do some shopping, fuck off, whatever. just don't bother us, cos we simply have a million and one things to do. the doctors are to blame for this actually. they are the one who tell the patient's relatives that the operation will only take 2-3 hours. but like hidden karaoke session costs, it's not that simple. there's the time spent queueing to go for the operation. the time needed for the anaesthetist to do her thing. the time needed to close up the incision. and don't forget the time spent at the recovery room waiting for the anaesthetic to wear off. so really, there's nothing to do except wait and listen to Madonna telling you how oh-so-slowly time goes by.
2) Hi, do you have any micropore?
micropore is like the bestest innovation from 3M ever since the fugly Nomad carpets. those mats look like they trap a lot of dirt, and that's great. but the inspiration from whence these carpets came from doesn't leave much to be desired (at least for me lah). 'thank goodness for Brazilian waxes' is the quote of the day here.
then again, nobody really knows what micropore is unless they are somehow involved with health-care, be it patient or employee. and anyways, no one really says micropore UNLESS THEY ARE MEDICAL STAFF. basically 'Do you have any micropore?' really translates into 'Hi, i'm a health-care worker too, so please take really good care of my relative here because if you fuck anything up, i'll be sure to sue your sorry health-care worker ass, i'm watching and could i also please have that micropore still? why won't the healthcare workers in civilians clothes just remain as annonymous as the patient's relatives that they are supposed to be?
3) Can you ask the doctor to update me about my father's condition?
this is apparently the hottest question being asked between 6-8pm every weekday in every gah-men hospital. doctors, if you haven't realized, just like the average office worker, get off from work at roughly 6 plus or sometimes even 7 (and if they have to answer irritating questions like these, 8). the patient's relatives are most probably hold desk-bound jobs too. so, like star-crossed lovers, the office-worker relatives will almost always never get to see the team doctors. and it's okay if it's one or two patients and their relatives, but the typical nurse takes care of about 10-14 patients. so imagine a never-ending barrage of relatives wanting to see the doctors from 14 patients and their relatives. misconception: the doctors are not at your beck and call. and come to think of it, this is also the number one question for relatives to quench their guilt for not visiting their 'loved one' in hospital (or at least as ideally often as they would like to).
4) Nurse can you please (insert some insignificant job that the relatives themselves can do) for me?
you don't need my diploma and me to help you close windows right? neither would you need me to help you move chairs and tables do you? i think every ward in the hospital really needs to hire a maid, preferably indonsian (cos they can converse in behasa indonesia), to settle the nitty gritty things that they need. making milo, getting biscuits, cleaning up messes, serving bedpans and urinals. sometimes i think i need to pin my diploma to my uniform just to get the idea across that i'm a STAFF NURSE. i would love to help, but i'm bogged down with work. and if i can't finish my work, i can't go home on time. and if i can't go home on time, i get pissed. and if i get pissed, your 'loved one' won't get that optimal health care that you so want for him. it's all relative (pun-intended).
5) Why is my father undergoing (insert some mayoclinic information sourced from the internet)?
for the health-care industry, the internet is more of a curse. every relative just googles or wikis something up and viola! you have a complete course of treatment plan and medications for an entire diagnosis. and it's an irony, but the relative would rather believe something they randomly sourced from the internet, rather than the doctors. they question the doctor's judgements. they doubt the nurse's answers. and some make it a point to be critical about everything that the nurse does. i have seen an ardent relative who CAMPS at the patient's bedside 24/7, fervently hoping to spot a mistake that a nurse makes. every action the nurse makes, she reciprocates with a scowl and a look of disdain, as if i have committed a taboo. and what procedure did the patient come in for? just a very simple low-risk hernia operation.
so you see, my job is really a PR-minefield. every little 'insensitive' comment you make could land you in a 'counselling' session with the management. and it doesn't help that my organization is crazy about audits. somebody should really up my pay. or at least get me that Indonesian maid to help with the workload.
Sunday, November 19, 2006
Me, MeMe and Me
I've been tagged to do this thing the young people call a MEME. as to why it's called a meme, i can only guess that it's about Me? and as if to double confirm it, they give you another Me so it becomes a MeEe. meaning it's about Me and Me only. so here's to an hour of stroking my ego and if i'm up for it, myself.
10 songs you’ve been listening a lot to lately:
1. Title & Registration - Deathcab For Cutie
2. Fashionista - Jimmy James
3. Promiscous - Nelly Furtado (feat. Timbaland)
4. My Love - Justin Timberlake (feat. T.I. & Timbaland)
5. Crazy - Gnarls Barkley
6. King Kooba - Fooling Myself
7. Love In A New Wave - Electrico
8. Get Together - Madonna
9. Sweet Avenue - Damien Rice
10. The Groove - Muse
9 things you look forward to:
4. Getting wasted
5. The cab ride home
9. Getting wasted
8 things you like to wear:
1. My brown MUJI 'made-from-one-piece-of' leather shoes
2. My brown stripy pants
3. My brown Globe shoes
4. My brown THE THING tee-shirt
5. My brown cheapo 'bought in Canada' watch
7. Boxer Briefs
8. Colourful shin-length socks
7 things that annoy you:
1. Croc-wearing adults
2. Giordano t-shirts
3. Bad Grammer
4. Ang Mohs at the clubs (they push, they shove and they are bad dancers)
5. People who don't give way to women
6. Straight guys wearing NUM tees (it's not metro, you gay-bashers!)
7. Straight girls wearing NUM tees (it's not cute, you bitches!)
6 things you say most days:
2. bloody shit
3. shitty banana
5. yah lah, whatever
6. hi, ward 99, staff nurse jon speaking, how may i help you?
5 things you do everyday:
1. play World of Warcraft
4. have my morning coffee
5. read people's blogs, thinking how boring they all are actually
4 people you want to spend more time with:
1. Mr. Raffles-Berkeley
2. The paternal grandmother
3. Dave Tan (can't think of anyone else lah)
4. The brother (whom i still think is gay)
3 movies you could watch over and over again:
1. The Devil Wears Prada (3 times already and more coming)
2. Alias (drama serial, but i prefer to call it a 24-hour long movie)
2 of your favorite songs at the moment:
1. Title & Registration - Deathcab For Cutie
2. Love In A New Wave - Electrico (Dave Tan!!!!!)
1 person you could spend the rest of your life with:
i'm supposed to tag someone else to do this MeMe. but my hands are busy doing the stroking. so whoever who reads my blog, just go and do this MeMe.
Thursday, November 16, 2006
a galpal and i were at Balcony like three weeks ago. we were chilling and trying to act cool and metropolitan and all when suddenly, a whole bunch of cigarette-shaped ang moh women walked past us. 2 black girls, 3 white girls and a combined 2% fat. i have more fat than all of them combined together. first impressions led to them being supermodels. it was dark, so i couldn't really see their faces. but i could see them strutting their stuff and milking out every ounce of sex in their size zero skirts.
it wasn't till i was talking about the latest America's Next Top Model episode with a gay friend a few days ago, when he mentioned that they were in Singapore just about 3 weeks ago. and we're talking about the latest season's model. he saw them and he said that they were damn sombong. but they are supermodels what, it's their inate nature to be sombong.
so if you put two and two together, i basically saw 5 of ANTMs. which bring about the question: what in the world are they doing in Singapore?
apparently, Sing-Sing Baby! doesn't have as much of a ring as compared to Tai-Tai Baby!.
i am so smitten with...
almost every gay person is bound to be acquainted with someone (not necessarily gay) who is involved with the arts. these people could be involved in various ways: a curator, ensemble cast, actor, backstage crew, the janitor for the SAM, whatever. it's even better if they are involved with a local stage production, because that more often than not translates into complimentary tickets. and who would ever reject complimentary tickets to a local production, given the sometimes exorbitant prices these shows charge? so much for bringing the arts to the masses.
well, i'm part of the mass. and i got my free tickets from a gay acquaintance to watch the LITLLE SHOP OF HORRORS. but this post is not about the show. and anyways, the show was rather blah. the Dim Sum Dollies should stick to their old routine of skits and stand-ups. then again, i cannot complain because the only saving grace of the show would have to be David (Dave) Tan of electrico fame. he voices Audrey Two, the ginormous man-eating plant in the musical. and he is quite the talent that he is.
there's this straight factor about him that i can't put my finger on. maybe it's just me thinking too much. or maybe it's because HE IS REALLY STRAIGHT afterall (and this is double confirmed by my gay acquaintance). and to add to the effect, his vocals remind of cats. i have no idea why. ang moh cats some more. so throughout the whole musical, i was like a puberscent schoolgirl complete with blue pinafore and waistband and funky shoes, thinking naughty little thoughts. it stopped short of doing cut-outs of Dave Tan and pasting them on my plastic folder that's used to keep my worksheets though.
and it's quite wasted that Dave Tan only VOICED the plant. why can't he be the plant? like in i dunno, body paint or something. i only get to see him for 15 minutes in the 2 hour play. but it's complimentary tickets once again, so i ought to be grateful still. yah lah, i am absolutely smitten wih David Tan. every other gay guy in the show is like 'Robin Goh is so ham-sum' and i'm seemingly the only gay guy who picks the straight guy. so clever hor?
Wednesday, November 08, 2006
once again, i have nothing to blog about.
actually, i have plenty of ideas about what i wanna blog. only problem is, i'm too tired to type anything out or to think of something witty or punny to decorate the blog post with. everyday i get home from my nursing job and all i can think of is the following:
my brain is like a rash. full of dots/spots/pigmentations, irritatingly irritable. all i wanna do is ask God for more time in this world so that i can sleep, play World of Warcraft and have time to go out and meet people. i seriously detest the morning shift because i have to drag my lazy ass up at 5am and dress up and all. leave the house at 5.30 or 5.45. and start work at 7am. and normally i'll be so busy that i don't even have time for a teabreak or lunch. the only thing that keeps me going is running away to the rooftop for a quick smoke. 10 quick puffs and i have to run back down to the ward for a life of bedpans, latex gloves and funky smells of bodily fluids again. i've seen so much bodily fluids in the past week alone, in various colours and viscousity and smells. so much so that i could put the huang he (yellow river) to shame.
all this makes me so tired and mentally-drained (my favourite word now that i tell everyone) that i have nothing much inspiring to blog about. so like i always say, when you've got nothing to say, let the pictures say lah (that's three SAYS in a sentence, SEI SEI SEI!!!!!)!
i hate au things naturale
i have no idea what the father was thinking about when we went to Matritchie/Macritchie/McRitchie (i dunno how to spell that stupid reservoir!) on the recent Deepavali holiday. in fact, i felt cheated that he never told us who was going to the reservoir with us. he made it sound like a family outing with the rest of the paternal relatives. and so the brother and I happily followed along, thinking it'll be a really crowded outing. little did we know, the only people that went along were the brother and the parents and the stingy auntie and her husband and me. they wanted to trek to this treetop walk thingee that i was so not interested in. imagine, i could have spent my entire public holiday at home playing World of Warcraft and trying to power level. but NO! i had to succumb to a family outing and stupidly go on a really sweaty trek through some miserable forest.
it was like Brunei all over again. all the mosquitoes and foresty air and the sweltering sun. ever since i returned from brunei, i have never gotten a single mosquito bite. not one. and i just exposed myself to the greens once again and suddenly, the mosquitoes sucked the shit out of me. i'm left with reddish bites and a wierd rash.
and i hate the smell of trees, fresh morning air, nature and all that shit. you know those pinetree air fresheners that you see hanging from the rearview mirrors of 'white trash' cars in American movies? i've smelt one of those in Canada. it's the same smell over here at the treetop walks.
the only bit of entertainment that i could derive from this entire trip to nature was the treetop walk. it's supposedly high. but i think any suicidal person would be turned off by the height of the suspension bridge from the ground. it's like at the most a 4-5 storey building. you would prolly sprain a wrist or ankle or something, jumping off from that 'height'.
and to crown it off, it's a ONE-WAY BRIDGE. i found the signboard above at the beginning and ending of the bridge. damn encouraging hor. you have to trek like an hour or so just to get to the pathetic bridge. and the only welcome you get is this silly sign, a bored-looking guy sitting in a booth with a click-counter, counting the number of people who have crossed the bridge. and you would have thought that a relatively touristy place like MacRitchie would at least have a souvenir shop or something right? wrong. there was a rest station that didn't sell anything at all. it only had toilets, another bored-looking counter assistant and someone to clean the toilets. and in a deserted place like MacRitchie, where would the Singaporeans be? of course the most developed-looking place lah! apparently, the rest station was so crowded. there was a queue outside the female toilets and loads of irritating children running all over the place. it just makes you wish that they would trip, fall and perhaps break a bone or something.
after all that bull for a day, i could at least have deserved a I HAVE CROSSED THE TREE-TOP WALK AT MACRITCHIE AND ALL I GOT WAS THIS STUPID T-SHIRT souvenir. the family ended up at Newton for a heavy lunch. putting back on every single calorie we lost for the entire MacRitchie expedition.
i grew up on a lot of mediocre food.
the parents, like i have mentioned in previous posts, are really terrible at good food and fine dining. they are big fans of the hawker centre. and it's not like they know where to go in Singapore for the best laksa or nasi lemak. they just know that it's a short 5 minute drive to the nearest hawker centre where food is sold. to the parents, location trumps quality of food, anytime.
and to make things worse, they don't have a lot of friends who can appreciate gourmet cuisine too. i remember my childhood being made up of many trips to McDonald's with a very close famuly friend of the father's. we always went to the King Albert Park branch where there was a playground, a train running on tracks around the ceiling of the restaurant, and of course plenty of chicken Mcnuggets to while the time while the adults were making conversation in Cantonese. the parents knew that we kids never learnt how to speak the language of dim sum, but kids like us are really sharp. you could tell when they were speaking about something lewd. i think it was from the way they laughed or something. the harder they laughed, the more pervy the joke was. and laugh hard? a lot of that they did.
one of the great food outlets that the parents did get right though, was Tiong Bahru pau. pau, meaning buns in mandarin. actually the word pau is rather vague. because you say pau to one cheena-piang in Singapore and they will think the basic white steamed bun filled with whatever shit pau is supposed to be filled with. but say pau to another cheena-piang from another Asian country, and they will think of some other white seamed bun filled with some other shit that pau is supposed to be filled with. every asian country has their own definition of pau.
Tiong Bahru pau was one of those things that i grew up with. the first outlet originated from Tiong Bahru obviously. and up till today, they have become famous for their roasted pork meat buns. to avoid sounding like a channel 8 variety show food critic, let's just say the pau is 'fuckin' good'. the skin is just fluffy and has a light sweetness to it. and they are very generous with the roasted pork filling in the pau itself. Tiong Bahru pau is the Salvation Army of the chinese steamed bun industry.
i like the way Tiong Bahru pau does it. they stuff the filling in for the char siew (roasted pork bits) versions, pinch the top of the bun (or what i would like to call it as 'nipplizing it'), and then add the red dot, indicative of it being a char siew bun. the randomness at which they dot the buns is really what i like about it. it's never in the centre, unlike the facory-made and frozen ones you see at the supermarket. just reminds you that some times, the best things in life are still hand-made (NB: can be applied to sex too).
Sunday, November 05, 2006
someday you'll know
it's for you. you know why we broke up.
blame it on my passiveness. blame it on the fact that i was more pre-occupied with World of Warcraft than you. blame it on the fact that i was waiting for you to ask whether we wanted to break up. blame it on the sun signs. blame it on chemistry. blame it on the time and effort you put in which didn't come out with added result. blame it on my dislike for 4-hour long phone conversations throughout the night. blame it on the differences. blame it on my smoking habits. blame it on Jessica Simpson. blame it on phuket. blame it on me.
i have nothing to blame. it just didn't work out.
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