|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.|
Sunday, December 30, 2007
project 355: of cooks, cocks, broth & sex
i have to confess that i have always loved Proverbs. not as in Old Testament Proverbs or a punny group of people who strongly support the usage of verbs in everyday conversation. no. what i'm referring to are phrases such as 'don't count your chickens until they hatch' or 'all's fair in love and war' or 'a stitch in time saves nine'. those intellectual-sounding sentences that mostly don't have much practical usage in daily conversation until 'the shit hits the fan' (which is not a proverb, by the way). if you ask me, proverbs are very apt for describing situations with more metaphorical terms than 'fuck' or 'shit' or 'chee bye'. 'tis true that us Singaporeans are very prone to use the vage (local Hokkien term better known as chee bye) to summarize the best and worst of everyday situations. like say... two gay men who meet up for a midnight rendezvous:
Gay Person A: Did you bring along the condoms?
Gay Person B: Darn! I've totally forgotten about it!
Gay Person A: Chee bye!
Gay Person B: I've also forgotten the lube!
Gay Person A: Chee bye!
this is despite the fact that neither persons in this short conversational excerpt have an iota of interest in the female genitalia. some better and more educated suggestions i have for chee bye are 'Might as well be hanged for a sheep as a lamb' (if you're going to get into the same amount of trouble, you might as well commit the greater offense) or 'Caught between the devil and the deep blue sea' (to be stuck with two choices that are both undesirable). of course, even better alternatives i have for chee bye can range from an inflatable sex doll to anal sex with another man. but yeah... back to proverbs.
you know what i like best about these proverbs? the fact that they are summaries about the generalities of life makes them all the more flexible, malleable and contradictory to each other. take for example, they say that the stylus may be mightier than the sword, but what use is it in deflecting the noisy actions that are seemingly louder than words? or people always claiming that the bigger, the better. yet they also say that good things come in small packages.
which makes all of us wonder for sure: do you like it big or do you like it small?
they always say that 'too many cooks spoil the broth'. of course, good questions to ask when such a phrase is mentioned would be 'who are they?' and also 'what sort of broth?' or 'how many cooks are you talking about?' cooks and broth has always been one of my favourite proverbs. i've never liked having too many people around, it tends to make situations more complicated. too many people trying to help, too many people causing more trouble, too many people requiring more attention. all this thinking about having too many people around fell into place when i participated in my first ever pre-planned gathering of gay men in a hotel room with the intent of fulfilling their carnal desires. or simply put, an orgy.
this may come as a bit of a revelation, but yeah, i'm in virgin territory when it comes to orgies. suffice to say, i've given this issue quite the long thought prior to this. i mean, orgies are fun and all. but when you throw in the social mechanics of the gay men, it makes things go really awry. everybody wants the ones with the ones with the nice bodies, the cute faces, the charming personalities, the big endowments. the ugly, the not-so-fit, the not so well-endowed, they all get left out. and when men get left out in sex, there's bound to be some form of social and sexual tension in the air.
a regular of mine arranged for a session with me, but only popped the orgy question way after we checked into the hotel room. now this regular isn't exceptionally handsome or fit or anything like that. the only reason why i still meet up with him is because we make really good conversation and share good times together. that's the intimacy that i like when it comes to sex. but of course, i'm good for spicing up the old routine and since he's the one paying for the exorbitant hotel room, i don't have much say, do i? and thus 11pm came and two other people arrived. for generalization's sake, let's label them as 'Lean and tanned Dragonboater' and 'Hunky, average-looking, easy-going chap'.
being new to all this, it was awkward to get the ball rolling. so i did what i did best to ease social tensions, i offered cigarettes to everyone. apparently, only Hunky was a social smoker, to which i told him, 'Hey... this is a social setting, so please don't hesitate to help yourself to the cigarettes if you are up for it.' alas, before Hunky even had the chance to do so, my regular pounced upon him like a hyena devoid of food for several days. i've never seen such an immense want for sex before. maybe it was because he was tripping. but words like 'devour' and 'desperation' come to mind. with Hunky pre-occupying the regular, i was left with Dragonboater. so we made small talk which eventually led to sex. i bonked him and later on, he bonked me as well.
but truth be told, i was eyeing for Hunky. nice chest, nice abs, an admitted narcissist (quote: 'I like to sit in front of the mirror to get hard'), of a jovial nature and really, a nice guy all round. that's my kinda guy. the night was still young though, and i knew sooner or later, Hunky would come round to me. i spent the earlier part of the night dispensing silly little comments like 'Watch the porn, it helps' or 'i wonder what they are doing in the toilet' (the regular and Hunky made their way to the toilet for a rather extensive period of time). suffice to say, the regular exhausted Hunky with his insatiable appetite for sex. i think this is why Hunky called in for reinforcements at about 2am in the morning. and the Calvary came at 4am in the form of a lean good-looking chap that i've come across before on the local gay internet personals. let's label him as eh... 'Curved 6"', for obvious reasons.
Hunky was wise in the sense that he briefed Curved 6" on what had happened in the hotel room so far. and Curved 6" who was a seemingly pro on the social mechanics behind an orgy spent a good three to four hour satisfying the regular and his needs. within that time, i got to bonk Dragonboater again, i got to bonk Hunky, i got to bonk Curved 6", got bonked by Curved 6" and got bonked again by Dragonboater. Hunky was considerably well-endowed. alas, he had problems getting hard due to the fact that he was trippin' too. 6am came and went. and the regular was getting more and more desperate. i haven't really spent time with Curved 6" because the regular was taking up a whole lot of time with him. and when i did, the regular would go into a sulk and say things like 'No no... it's okay, you finish up with him first' in a sort of sour tone that threatened to call off the whole orgy. this is why i hate having too many people around.
i was rather disgusted at 9am though. Hunky who had problems maintaining an erection was forced to have one in the bathroom by the regular. it's one thing to be horny. but to be horny to the point of forcing people to have sex with you, that's seriously embarrassing. i kept saying stuff like 'Thanks Hunky, for making the effort' and 'Thanks Curved 6" for being so self-sacrificial' throughout the entire night. i ended the night by giving all three men my number upon request, with the intent of keeping contact with none of them. not because i didn't like having sex with them, but rather my 'one-night-only' policy, another reason why i hate having sex with too many people: the after-sex and having to reject their advances for more sex after the entire session.
but as for Hunky... well, he might be worth the effort.
too many cooks spoil the broth? indeed, too many cocks spoil the sex as well.
Tuesday, December 25, 2007
project 355: merry christmas, y'all!
well the attached .jpg says it all, doesn't it?
Monday, December 24, 2007
project 355: how my father nearly stole christmas away
with twenty-three years (and an increasing waistline) under my belt, the festive season seems to bring about a new perspective. i know this sounds very evangelical and all, but it wasn't till several days ago that i started thinking about Christmas and what i meant to me. but okay, to be fair, i want you to think about it too: what does Christmas mean to you? a Nigella-inspired turkey (i'm seriously watching too much Discovery Travel & Living)? 'i-don't-want-to-spend-Christmas-alone' relationships (the air steward and me was such)? the frantic search for Christmas wish lists? an even more frantic search for marked-down purchases in the bargain bin? Christmas sex? Christmas albums? attending church services?
well, i can't help but love Christmas. and with a 13th month bonus this year, it's actually the only season whereby i bother spending a lot of money on people. for the most part of the year, i'm constantly living on tenterhooks, wondering whether i have enough to tide me through the day. call me a scrooge or just plain practical, but if you don't even have money for yourself, how are you going to have money for others? no matter what, this is the first Christmas whereby i blew close to $600 on colleagues, friends and loved ones. i bought Pangkeng a Crumpler (he bought me a Braun Buffel), several gay people New Urban Male vouchers, handbags for several girls and loads of candied foods for acquaintances.
indeed, Christmas is the only time when people are generous enough to pause and think of others. that perhaps, is one of the many things that Christmas means to me this year.
my paternal family have a yearly tradition that we started nearly a decade ago. and i think it's a really good one that every family should have. no i'm not talking about the Christmas gift exchange (we started this great tradition practically twenty-three years ago). every year, my paternal family would host a potluck at a random relative's place. there would be a different food theme every year. this year was a boring 'western cuisine' filled with meat from every four-legged creature that our good Lord created for farmlife (turkeys have four legs, just that two of them look like wings). the previous year was a Japanese christmas whereby my mom wowed the crowd away with her Golden Curry tonkatsu.
this year is very different for many of us cousins. as most of us are working or studying in tertiary institutions now, we are all expected to bring some object of worth to the potluck. one brought a girlfriend (no, we didn't have her for Christmas). another presented a Christmas compilation to the various families in the paternal side. while another generous one brought a decadent chocolate cake with an ice-cream filling that melts way before you could even put it in your mouth (it was a really messy and liquidated affair). me, you're asking? i brought a roll of honey-baked ham. or as i would like to call it in Hokkien terms: 'ji bu ham' (one roll of ham). it wasn't received at the potluck as turkey, beef and chicken had already made their presence at the affair. but i'm sure they will think of me during breakfast today.
the food at these potlucks is one thing. but i think most of the adults are looking forward to the portion after the food, what i would like to call 'The Sharing Sessions'. given that my entire paternal family is supposedly Christian, we are all wrestled into a time of counting our blessings for the year. 'supposedly Christian' because i can think of a few relatives who don't exactly exhibit the most 'Christianly' of behaviours. mainly though, it's just me. what usually happens is that we all pull up chairs and various bit of bric-a-brac that we can park our expanded asses on and start recollecting what the Lord has done for us this year.
it's quite a struggle for me every year as i think of something good to say. when The Sharing Sessions were first initiated, i focused on studies and health. the general lines of sharing would be like 'Ehrm.... thank God that i'm still alive and that i still have an education despite bad results this year.' the family would constantly interject with irritating bits of sentences like 'and what about a girlfriend?' it took them about five years of conditioning before they realized that i wasn't that interested in a relationship during this prime of my youth. of course, that's the 'official' statement. you guys and all my various male-gendered sex partners know the reality behind it.
these Sharing Sessions would normally be emotional for some of the relatives. it's a constant running joke that a tissue box would have to be present at these sessions. one random relative would throw a box of Kleenex to whoever that they think was about to unload a barrage of emotion onto the family. some of the really horrid excuses that these relatives use to cry are stuff like 'Oh! My child is so useless, always quarrelling with me!!!' or 'Oh my Children are crap in their studies!!' my parents take extra caution to never let on anything about the family. a decade of Sharing Sessions later, my parents have yet to shed an emo tear. inside i'm thinking 'Heng man!'
this year however, the atmosphere seems a little different. like i said, everybody's now a little more matured, a little more adult-like, a little more ploughed down by the realities of this world. the various cousins shared things that veered away from studies and health. some had more pressing issues like blessings for surviving through National Service, providing students (there are six teachers in the family, one of them a kindergarten principal), protection at work (four nurses), safety on the roads (one taxi-driver), good business (my uncle who opened the Nursing Degree education centre and a contractor uncle), greater understanding of the bible (one pastor), better health (my grandmother who's nearly a bionic woman now that she has had so many screws and metal bits implanted into her), etc.
my father however, had a more pressing concern. just as the Sharing Session was about to commence, he asked a relative (whose house we hosted this year's potluck at) for a Chinese bible. having lived with my father for many years, i have come to understand that this is not a sign to dread for. arm my father with a Bible, and he thinks he's invincible. just as about to start sharing his bit of prayers and thanksgiving, he started flipping to the book of Revelations. and if there's one thing that should never be brought up during Christmas, it's that the end of the world is near (which is basically what the Revelations are all about). and true to his evangelical and zealous nature, he started sharing with the family the eight signs that indicated the second coming of the Lord. i shall spare you the depressing details and instead tell you that there was this awkward mood after the father finished his twenty minute exhortation.
the only time of the year where people are comforted by the fact that they still have family that still bother to meet up for a Christmas dinner and my father ruins it by sharing with everyone that 'The world is coming to an end but we'll all meet again in Heaven, ha ha!' (he said that, seriously). i was tempted to interject with 'but your son will still be here consorting with men, ha ha!', but bit my tongue down and went into a foetal position until the whole Revelations episode tided over. my father ended up not sharing anything about blessings and thanksgiving after that as he was so immersed in his exhortation. and nobody bothered to ask him for any prayer requests for the next year. it was that bad, yeap.
that was not all however. like i said, with the Bible in one hand, my father seems to think that makes him a bit of a Deacon or a Pastor of sorts. with each sharing that the various relatives did from that point on, he started to chastise them for not giving them the glory. of course, this was done in a good-hearted nature. like say, my nursing cousin who's in the same nursing degree course as me asked for protection against the unseen forces during the night shifts. and straight away, my father reached for the bible and flipped to Job quoting that the Lord will not let the unseen forces attack Christians without permission. and even if He does, it's not something that we will not be able to withstand ('Ghosts need permits from God to scare you, ha ha!').
thank goodness all this zealousness was quelled when my uncle (the one who opened the nursing degree) said the following, 'Teo (my father's surname) ah, sorry to interrupt. but we need to carry on with the sharing as we're running out of time and some of our children need to go home.' (it was already 11pm then). indeed, there's a time to be Christianly, and there's a time to be secular.
inside, i'm going 'Heng ah!'
Saturday, December 22, 2007
project 355: a gay man and his shoes
i've always been one to believe that the only worthy reason of looking down (literally) at people are their shoes. of course, you would very much want to digress if you're gay, and rearrange certain bits of the previous sentence. rearrangements like 'the only worthy reason of looking down at men are their (insert area of interest that lies below the waist)'. but then again, some people like to look down at such things, while others prefer an eye-to-eye level when it comes to matters like these. so let's just leave it at that, eh?
well feet and dicks have always had plenty of connotations together. to begin with, the urban legend that goes about regarding men with size 11 feet have 'size 11' penises should defnitely remain as that, an urban legend. i once knew of a random guy i met at the spa whose huge feet (and nice body and rather chiselled-looking face) attracted me (not that i have a fetish for all things footy, mind you) into a random room with him. before i knew it, the towels were off and well... let's just say that it wasn't exactly 'size 11' to begin with. 'size 1' was more apt. i ended up bonking the poor chap.
the only good that i saw out of it was that he had very firm footing to counter my hard thrusts.
call me sentimental, possessive or just outright stingy, but i can't help but hold on to any pair of shoes that i own for an overly-extended period of time. to me, it's always the shoes that make or break an outfit. Mr. Timberlake has his sneakers. Ryan Stiles has his flamboyant 1950s footwear. Imelda Marcos has her famous collection in Marikina, Manila ('They went into my klosets looking for skeletonnes, but thunk Gawd, all they pound were shoes, beautipool shoes'). and my mother basically takes up a third of the shoe cabinet plus another half of the store room. just in case you're wondering, i take up only a third of the shoe cabinet. my father and brother take up the other miserly third, give and take. to tell the truth, i think my collection spills into my father's and brother's third.
when it comes to purchasing them, i'm very particular about my shoes. and all the gay men will tell you that men's shoes are not exactly cheap and of a wide variety to begin with. a shade too bright and you'll be considered flamboyant. a design too feminine and it just screams 'i'm a bottom! fuck me!' and don't get me started on local designers who plagiarize luxury brands to produce a bastard child of these shoes. all in all, shoes are quite an effort. and that is why, i take pride and give respect to men who can procure shoes that look good, feel good and make them last.
come to think of it, the last time i bought a new pair of shoes was a depressing eleven months ago. there's nothing new on the market that exactly entices me. Havianas are getting passe (and still, i bought a pair for Christmas on thirteenth month bonus money). Converses are a dime a dozen. and shoes that combine formal elements and the streets, still end up looking like they ought to be matched with businesswear. i did consider purchasing a pair of limited edition Puma sneakers. you know the type that are oh-so-in with the gay crowd these days. unfortunately, my endomorphic frame prevents me from looking good in them (i feel very 'unbalanced' in them). the only shoes that i truly feel comfortable in are apparently skater shoes. gimme a pair from Globe and you'll make a happy gay sk8erboi out of me.
same goes for those Nike Airforce Ones (Nike AF-1). these flat-soled things are just apt for my work. i can bring a patient to bathe in them and they are as waterproof as a condom in a shower scene. plus there's nothing that says 'street cred' and 'out of my way, bitch' when i run in those things to reach for the emergency trolley. which brings us round to the shoes that got me writing this particular post. apparently, my Nike AF-1s gave up the ghost about a month ago. now, my black AF-1s are a treasured pair that i've worn since my student nurse days. that practically makes about six years ago. of course that also means six years worth of accumulated bacteria and organisms residing in those things.
it was the soles that gave way. if you look at the picture on the left, you can see that right half of the shoe has no sole. yeap, it fell off mid-work. that gave me the perfect reason to take them off and put on my pair of brown Globe skater shoes at work. the only thing that prevented me from doing an ollie was the lack of a skateboard. and of course, my job. and my supervisor. and the complaints that i would get if i did an ollie. and not forgetting to mention that i don't know how to do an ollie (i tried once and i ended up with a bad back for about three days).
and thus began the search for the perfect black shoes to accompany my working attire. for one, i was not going to wear the black hospital-issued Hush Puppies. they are black, they are formal and they absorb water like a sponge. many a new staff have worn those shoes, only to realize that they crumble within three working months. apparently, water makes those leather shoes crack. and the more water they absorb, the faster they crack. and before you know it, you have a pair of shoes fit for a prop in a cheapskate production of Oliver Twist.
thank goodness though i found my perfect black shoes within one sweep of two shopping centres. i've always wanted a pair of those wing-tipped shoes. one that would be suitable for work and clubbing. unfortunately i'm not a white-collared worker stuck in an office cubical from nine to five. so there's no reason for me to hop down to Aldo and get a pair. so i settled for some more practical. a pair of wing-tipped ones that looked like sneakers from the side and a formal pair if you looked down from my point of view (don't mind the big bulge blocking the view).
and since we're back to dicks, i guess this is the perfect way to end this post about shoes:
i'm a size 9 and have yet to disappoint.
Saturday, December 15, 2007
project 355: my colleagues look like drug mules and hookers
i'm only agreeable with the hooker bit actually, because the female colleagues in question are really pretty specimens of the health-care workforce. apparently, Kegal Laughs and another female colleague have just returned from a holiday in Brisbane about a fortnight and a week ago respectively. both of them were held up at customs for suspected prostitution and drug charges, respectively as well. admittedly, they seemed rather cool about what happened at customs. but my guess is that they were initially rather traumatized. after all, getting arrested in a foreign land where you have nothing but a suitcase packed to the brim with clothes, undies and toiletries in ziplock bags is not exactly the most ideal of ways to deal with a customs hold-up. it is now a running joke that Kegal Laughs moonlights as a red-light district worker.
my 'drug mule' colleague was held up for about an hour while she as getting frisked by a very 'she looks like a butch' customs officer. the only thing that crossed my mind while she related her unfortunate customs story was the fact that she's Pangkeng's one-time love interest and her very slim supermodel waistline. any drug cartel would be able to tell you that it's not exactly profitable to ship drugs in her.
Kegal Laugh's account is the funnier of the two, however. what happened was that the customs officer stopped her just as she was about to trod her first official step onto Brisbane soil. and she's quite the pretty thing to look at actually. she's young, she's sweet, she's slim, and she has flawless skin accompanied with really great make-up. the only thing is that she likes to wear pants most of the time. come to think of it, she's every bit eligible for the dime a dozen career of flight stewarding. but she picked nursing in the end. and that's earns my respect.
they ruffled through her suitcase and get this... they were looking for dresses. of course, Kegal Laughs who endorses Levis had nothing to show for it. 'Where's your dress?' the female customs officer asked. 'Eh... i don't like to wear dresses.' so great make-up, a slim body shape, flawless skin and dresses, that's what 'constitutes a prostitute' (i've always wanted to use that line) in the land of down under. Kegal Laughs is not exactly the most knowledgeable of persons when it comes to geography, so the customs had a hard time getting convinced that she's not a hooker. in fact, here's an excerpt:
Customs: Name me several streets in Brisbane.
KL: Ehrm... i dunno King street?
Customs: So tell me, where do you do your dirty work in Brisbane?
KL: Queen street? (there really is a Queen Street in Brissy)
Kegal Laughs is also the same person who spelt 'Gastro' (as in Gastrology) as 'Gasturo'. bless her soul, but maybe she's cut out for flight stewarding after all.
Tuesday, December 04, 2007
project 355: put a law on my anus, but don't you dare put one on my console games
when it comes to the world of gaming, Singapore is rather comparative to say... a drain along the side walks. it's plain, it's boring and mostly filled with crap. it's not exactly that pleasant to begin with, sometimes a little funky on the smells, but nonetheless, mostly well-maintained as with everything else in the nanny state. on a typical day, nobody takes notice of the drain unless it starts to flood or some random curiosity floats by like a badly-stained sanitary pad or a bloated corpse. apparently, that's the only time when people start taking notice of our 'gaming industry', when some horrendous curiosity has been unearthed from the depths of our drains.
and just as a bit of a fun fact, the drain is also what the locals call a 'longkang' in the Hokkien dialect. apparently, the longkang is also the same word that pervies like Pangkeng and I occasionally use to describe other sexual derivatives. stuff like 'Hey Pangkeng, can you call maintenance to come and clean out my longkangs?' but yeah. digress.
it's apparent though, that the nanny state has been trying really hard to cause ripples in our longkangs. we've pumped in quite a fair bit of dollars to rope in the brightest and the most creative minds in the industry (read: Lucas Entertainment Singapore). we've tried hosting the World Cyber Games at Suntec City Convention Centre in 2005. and we've most definitely tried to produce our very own games. actually... hold on. i'm not that sure about that last point. i've read that some local gaming developer was trying to produce something somewhere several years ago. but that's all very vague, isn't it? up till now, all i've been seeing in my console gaming life is the trademark American brand of violence and humongous Japanese boobs.
which actually makes me wonder aloud to myself as i sit at a Starbucks with my 10% untouched Cafe Mocha (i spilt the other 90% on the floor; embarrassingly so), 'what would a typical Singaporean-made game be like?' we can't endorse stealing random vehicles off the street like the Grand Theft Auto series. we have 'liberalising' parents who retain their 'strong, conservative core(s)' (read: anal-retentive cores), so that rules out violence-themed games like Manhunt. we are very good though, at taking the ideas of others and polishing and priming them to the point of moral perfection. so i'm actually thinking something more SIMS-related or a standard level-based MMORPG. something with no violence, no crime and a governmental mark of approval that even your Civics & Moral Ed. teacher would applaud.
truth be told, it's not the technological or financial barriers that hold the gaming industry back. it's the mindset of the ones holding the technological and financial purse strings.
no wonder nobody has yet to hear of a Singaporean-made console game.
i've been stuck with writer's block at the following portion for several days to come. mainly because i'm quite a shit-head when it comes to writing stuff that revolves around the argumentative. so forgive the horrific attempt at doing so. all that said, i'll be the first to admit that i'm one of those suckers who loitered around the nearest Xbox 360 outlet from home at 10.45am the day Mass Effect was released. Mass Effect, in case you haven't been following the news or just couldn't be bothered to read the attached ST report above, is the first controversial game in Singapore to be given an M18 label. it was initially slated for a November 23rd release. however, an inquiry into girl-on-girl action in the game between an alien species and a human led to an initial ban of the game. we have our Media Development Authority to thank for that.
of course, we can't take everything at face value can we? we need to look at context. the alien species we're talking about here in the game are the Asari, an all-female alien species with really swell-looking butts and even 'sweller' boobs. the have the ability to mate with any species in space by attuning their reproductive systems to suit the opposite party. it's difficult to explain, really. so i'm going to quote from the in-game encyclopaedia:
The asari were the first species to discover the Citadel. When the salarians
i've yet to see any girl-on-girl action in the game. maybe that's because i picked a hunky soldier to represent my character in saving the universe from aliens with evil intents (you get the option to mate with an Asari 'consort', but i politely declined in the game). but really, after putting a law on our anuses (read: Section 377a), is it really necessary to put a stop to lezzies in video gaming as well?
context people... context.
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