there are 4 vices in my life, and all of them begin with the letter 'C'. Cash, Cock, Cigarettes and Calcohol. obviously, alcohol is spelt without the C. but just so that i can fit in with the 'C' theme, alcohol shall be spelt as Calcohol in this post. and anyways, doesn't Calcohol remind you of industrial fluids and petrol station and windscreen wiper water? all of them very intoxicating, which is the point of drinking Calcohol in the first place.

Cock, who cares? everybody likes cock, be it the one who has one, the one who craves one or even the one who has one and CRAVES for one.
Cash, one can never have enough of it.
Calcohol, expensive but worth every cent.
but Cigarettes, ah.... there's the winning ticket. it's not exactly very expensive, but still gives you 1/10th of the high that Calcohol gives you. and given that Cigarettes are 1/10 of the price of Calcohol anyways, it pretty much makes sense. the basic cigarette is the perfect accessory for any occassion. you can whip out a cigarette in the middle of town and it instantly ups your street cred by about ten points. black SKL cherry cigarettes do it for thirty and a cigar, fifty. but whipping out the other 'C' in public drops it by a thousand.

but the most important function of the cigarette (besides helping one to relax and upping your x-factor) would be that it's the perfect lubricant at any social setting. smokers and other smoking strangers tend to get along pretty well. there's no scientific study done to prove this, but i think it all boils down to the fact that smokers are all going to die of oral/lung cancers sooner or later. so like all the smokers are prolly thinking, 'hey let's be friends since we're all gonna suffer from yellowed teeth and halitosis and deformed babies.' at least that's what i hope they are thinking.

and smoking in the heartlands is one fine example of how two smoking strangers can actually strike up a conversation about everything and nothing at all. just a week ago, i chatted up with the upstairs neighbour whom i've always thought was mentally-challenged or something. apparently, the people who live above me own a son. there was an entire week where all i could ever hear the son scream were the words 'ZHU BAH JIE'. ZHU BAH JIE is actually one of the dudes from the ancient chinese literature called: JOURNEY TO THE WEST. apparently, a monk and a bunch of misfits all travelled from china (presumably, because the story orginated from China) all the way to the west (once again, presumably not America but prolly like Tibet or Nepal or Timbarktoo or somewhere with temples and Buddha relics) to retrieve some scriptures. ZHU BAH JIE was a human who looked like a pig (complete with 50% body fat and a snout).

the boy kept shouting 'ZHU BAH JIE' from his balcony window in his extremely nasal voice. and for one entire week, i presumed he was either stark raving mad or simply just ushering in the lunar new year (this year, being the year of the pig). it wasn't until i listened in to one of his phone coversations (while smoking, coincidentally) when i realized that he wasn't mentally-challenged, but rather morally-challenged. he was boasting to his (presumably) school mate about his sexual experience with his girlfriend. and complaining about how small her intimate parts were ('chee bye hen siao leh!') do note that he didn't at all sound like 18. more like the voice of a kid still attempting to complete his Science (Phy/Chem) homework.

a few weeks later, this teenager (who looked like a secondary school kid) saw me smoking along the corridor. he instantly offered me a stick of NEXT red. once he opened his mouth, i immediately recognized him as the bastard with the nasal voice. god knows why he gave me a free stick. but instantly we connected. not that we talked about anything at all. and it's not like i enjoyed the stick of red anyways. but still, i've kinda loosened up on him and promised myself that i would offer him a green if i ever bumped into him again. and of course, to ask him to elaborate on the 'chee bye hen siao leh!' comment.

about 4 days later, i was practicing my normal routine of having a cigarette before my 30 minute run. normally this would involve a cigarette, short shorts, a t-shirt without sleeves and my ipod. any passerby would have definitely noticed the gay guy with blonde streaks puffing away at 8am in the morning. so along came this ah bang with a mop of extremely unruly hair, tapered (and extremely torn) jeans and a t-shirt that looked like it had survived 20 Led Zepplin concerts. he was indeed your typical mat rocker, except that for some unknown reason, he was carrying an extremely large branch (as in tree branch).

and when a disheveled mat rocker holding a large tree branch (instead of an electric guitar or some drum sticks) approaches you, your fight or flight instinct would normally kick in. apparently, i'm a bit on the non-observant side. i thought he was just part of the passing heartland's screen saver. when i did actually notice him, flight must have convinced fight to run away as well. anyways, mat rocker didn't whack me with his wooden stick. instead he needed a light for his other stick, a Marlboro Red.

and thus began our 20 minutes conversation about his bird, literally. apparently the reason why he was holding a tree branch was so that he could catch birds with it. i have no idea how he was going to do that given that birds seem to only have a 'flight' system ingrained into them whenever it comes to humans. but he wanted to catch a prize bird so that he could bring them to holland village and compete against other retired ah peks and mat rockers for the cash prize of about a thousand. and you can actually sell away your prized birds for about a thousand plus bucks if it actually garners prizes. he even pointed to his HDB apartment to indicate to me the 6 cages hanging from his corridor. 20 minutes just flew by.

and thus a new friend is made! now if only smoking could get me the rest of the 'C's.

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