K I haven’t posted for ages, s’been really busy and shizz.
Nevertheless:
Month: July 2010
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Pretty Well.
We’ve Come So Far, (Got So Far to Go),
Keep Calm and Carry On,
Live High, Live Mighty,
Blame it on the Alcohol.
School is fine because there’s 10A16!
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Infinity plus one.
Somewhere along the way I lost track of time.
The week that just passed, was that the first or second after term started? Whichever and anyhus-ly, it’s been a pretty uneventful week. By uneventful I mean no random animal died dramatically in the Central Plaza, nor did I set myself on fire for that (very expected) U for Math.
The urge to set things on fire, however, did settle in pretty intensely on Friday during photo-taking. For some reason the photog team made it their life mission to make us look exactly what we’re Not for the class photo. I get that there are some basic technical stuff we’ve got to straighten up on, but the rigidity was bordering on anal, IMO.
All the girls HAD to pin up their fringes, doesn’t matter if it’s neat when down. The rule is to pin up. No low socks Debbie and I had to borrow the guys’ socks and it was damn ridiculous I had socks bulging out of shoes I could hardly stuff my feet in it looked terrible. The team took about a million and one shots, making Jerry take off his glasses and fussing about when people aren’t smiling or opening their eyes wide enough. I mean.. WTFBBQ?
At one point our class kinda just gave up. It’s so absurd it becomes half-amusing. I doubt I’m even gonna buy the yearbook. ‘Cause I can see myself, 10 years down the road, going: HUH? That isn’t even how I remember everyone to be. There’s no point. Really don’t get why the size of eyes is an issue when taking class photos – does it even matter? Like Debbie complained at length after – this school has truly lived up to their communist reputation.
I agree.
I don’t remember much of the first part of the week – mass-purchasing at Borders, Chawanmushi, a dangerous game of Captain’s Ball, ANOTHER WHIRLEY POTATO ORGASM EPISODE (ONLY get the one at Food Fairs, the others disappoint so much I almost cried from the betrayal.), a long talk with JR, tutoring kids at this daycare (I thought it was a stroke of genius to stop their swearing by teaching them to use Cheesepie instead, and now they won’t stop saying it I want to kill myself)… Then there was THURSDAY!
Island Creamery with Laupok and Debbie! For about an hour or so only in the hot son but ZEMAGATZ I haven’t laughed this hard in a long time. Annoyed Yaya-Papaya Debbie outta her pants with our continuous rendition of A Night to Remember. And the remix of Buddhist chants when we were all slightly delirious – I actually had vertigo from laughing.
Then Sogurt + Burger Shack with Geoff, Xinyi, Ran, Richard, Rei-En and Ben!
Ben’s bionic finger thing we were all so fascinated with.
I’m sorry kay, this is my first pseudo-middle photo and I’m very excited about it. Especially because it’s cast in a kickass bionic finger thing. It’s very magical.
Anyway, whatever.
So we just slutted around and ate around and later stood around aimlessly by the road in that very fail at decision-making way that somehow always happens. By the time we decided to go home – we’ve been standing there for about half an hour discussing Totoro, getting molested by/harassing Ronald MacDonald, and very potentially got rounded up by the police as delinquents.
I think they were gonna arrest me – because as a Hwachy I am politically volatile and am capable of beating up bus-drivers and similar violent acts. But there were the Raffies around so their correct-ness outweighed my potential threat to the society. Wrong – they don’t know Rei is a black belt and can get nasty when provoked and/or hungry.
AND THEN WE HAD A ROUND OF FROGGER.
Which IMO is the best game ever! It’s like extreme jay-walking which is always v fun, but without the actual risk of dying!
FRIDAY had a series of vvvvvvv fail jumpshots with the class and borrowed a haul of books from the library – I’m telling you JX library is DABOMBXZ OK. They have a great supply of books, because somehow no one seems to borrow from there. So I had a mind-numbing Friday night Saturday morning of Murakamis, and then DINNER WITH BECKY! <3
Ish superbly nice to catch up with Becky after so long. (-:
I like it when life is nice and easy with friends and food.
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It’s my telepathetic skills!
I have this odd disease whereby I can never truly satiate my hunger? It’s like I just keep eating and eating and eating and after a full meal it JUST. FEELS. INCOMPLETE. After a round of dinner with Solero and Hip Hop Jelly, I STILL feel this weird craving for more.
IT’S SCARY. Especially after the TIOBE lecture about a voracious appetite paralleling sexual desires. Well wtv k. Today there was a food reception for the Entrepreneurship guests. I went about five rounds of food-stealing cause the fried prawn dumpling things were DABOMBZX.
Yesterday had a superb time with Debbie and Manda having Astons, then crashing Deeb’s for Big Bang Theory and Kpop fangirl-ing.
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Debbie’s Blonde Moment
Debbie: If I buy a plane in US, how do I transport it back to Singapore? Do I have to put the plane IN A PLANE then fly it over?
Weiqing: Uh, no. You can just fly the plane you bought…
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Amanda: 我现在打 squash! 是很像网球… 可是是和墙壁打！
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Toy Story 3 was GR8. Cute, poignant, unpredictable. It can (in 103 minutes), get me to – in all intensity – laugh, cry and experience horror, TOTALLY worth it. In fact I’m really tempted to watch it again.
It has those classic LOLmoments, but manages to reel you in from slapstick to sentimental. Yah I was bawling my eyes out towards the end, just thinking about Dinky Danky’s future and all the other toys I’ve forgotten about.
Besides that. Graphics were awesome. Action scenes were full out. Plot wasn’t the I KNEW THAT WAS GNA HAPPEN kind that we so often get nowadays. And for a kid’s PG movie, it’s pretty terrifying, with the creepy Big Baby and the screeching monkey oh hell.
In short, GO WATCH IT IF YOU HAVEN’T PLEASE!!!
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Tactical geniuses.
Surviving strong.
(-:
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Gloria: Whoo there’s a moon tonight!
Cathleen: There’s a moon every night, just depends if you can see it or not.
Weiqing: Actually, there’s a moon all the time…
Cathleen: And by the way, that’s not a moon. It’s a STREETLAMP.
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Cathleen: My dad says there’s no such word as Pang Seh! There’s only Pang Sai!
Weiqing: Pang Sai is the root word of Pang Seh! Pang Sai is abandoning the shit from your butt, Pang Seh is abandoning your friends from your heart.
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Toy Story 3 was absolutely moving, and if you haven’t, you need to watch it. More about it soon!
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Life’s Lessons #749264
Watch out: just because you’re wearing headphones and can’t hear yourself fart, it doesn’t mean others around you didn’t.
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After Dark by Haruki Murakami
Misery is deciding not to go out as the rest of your friends frolick around town, so that you can stay home and procrastinate in the face of 24 commentaries, a lit essay, two GP booklets to fill out, and EOM to boot.
Which I promise I’ll finish within an impossible time period of three hours. Later.
Spent the earlier part of today reading Murakami’s After Dark.
He’s actually the only serious-pretentious read I’ve picked up since Enid Blyton in primary school. I lost all hope in authors – besides Asians like Catherine Lim and Amy Tan (Also dunno the why) – since entering teen-hood. There’s really just nothing good enough, but not dark enough to read.
I mean like yeah there’s Harry Potter and then all those chick-lit I devoured. Or Dan Brown and Jodi Picoult. SERIOUSLY. That’s what my entire reading collection constitutes of. Which sounds very painful and sad but not really, I just reread Roald Dahls and shit to cripple my vocabulary into that of a eight-year-old’s.
Plus I only read Enid Blyton because it has all those vivid description of food erotica, (a tip: Especially in Famous Five.)
Okay now that I’ve revealed to you my very pitiful extension of literary range, let’s move on to After Dark.
The one thing that kept haunting me throughout the novel is how incredibly suited for a movie it is. It is one of those books that translate so easily into scenes, with it’s vivid night scene and explicit references to (really good) music. Hell, it even comes to a point of describing screenplays.
So I’m really surprised there’s no based-on films, yet.
Alright then again, maybe not. While it’s really pretty in print (the whole Murakami whimsical voice shizam), the life comes mostly from conversations (very often quietly insightful) and the visceral – but very much still – images. In other words, it lacks sufficient substance, plot or action to beef up one-half hours of film.
While I’m sure much of the beauty in prose was lost in the process of translating, it’s still a lot smoother than the contemporary American works you get around.
It takes place within a single night in Tokyo, and the inter-relationships can be pretty confusing but just keep in mind that there are three main stories, all somehow linked (illogically, but seamlessly. It’s weird in the best way possible);
Mari’s meeting of Takahashi and their interaction – often alluding to Mari’s estranged relationship with her comatose sister, Eri.
A Chinese hookah who got beaten up by a masochistic computer expert, (in a Love Hotel Mari later came to be associated with) and the maso’s actions post-attack.
This fantastical, surreal, and totally unexplained dream-scape of Eri’s subconscious/conscious state that the narrative breaks in now and then.
Characterization was crisp and real.
Nothing about the whole strawberry-blonde protagonist with determined spunk and a history of hurt. No smart-aleck annoyingly perfect sexy young man who’ll tease the heroine and then start making love to her towards the end.
Most importantly, no sparkling immortal who fell in love with his favorite food.
Instead, portrayal is incredibly genuine. The journey is also gradual; you learn about them as you would a friend over time. At the end of the day you know enough to be interested, but not completely as to lose the sense of mystery. Very like-able, very real, very effective.
Murakami’s narrative is engaging – maybe too much so; there are certain reinforcements that become redundant in excess. There’s also his tendency to pull the readers out of the story (this detachment also pretty evident in his other novels).
Well it really depends – if you’re the observing/analysing kind of reader, this book suits you perfectly. Murakami babies the audience by lending his eye on every detail, giving quite little space for self-assumptions or inference.
If you’re the kind with a ten-speed imagination running on Energizer, then you might feel stifled by his style of presentation.
The plot, though, I have an issue with. It’s conceptual idea is brilliant, but the potential of it just wasn’t fully exploited. It elevates to the point right before the ending, and wraps off nicely – short of that few unresolved ideas here and there.
The ending with Mari/Takahashi was pretty and proper, just the right amount of resolution and mystery where the audience can just pick n’ choose whatever they want to happen.
About Eri, though, I thought more of a hint could be given about the earlier happenings. YEAH it’s supposed to be fantasy~*, but (maybe just a leeeeeeetle) revelation of it’s paralled reality would be a damn nice ending touch – especially in the context of day/reality settling in.
The most disappointing cliffhanger, really, was with Shirakawa (the sadist prostitute beater computer night shift expert). I enjoyed his vignettes the most, and the stylisation of his thoughts were chilling. Maybe it’s just me, but I was expecting more of him to be revealed (especially after they described his body – a geek with ABS, wtfiwant.) but. Ah well. ):
Overall, a great read for an afternoon procrastination. Wouldn’t take more than a few hours to complete. Flow is lovely, so that’s a change from American Contemporary Lit (which I personally find v jarring in comparison.) MIGHT leave you a little HUH? at the end, but some fresh concepts to think about when you’re bored while in class or defecating.
Oh wow, okay I wasted so much time on this.
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Whirley Potato & Hip Hop Jelly
I figured that work’s perennial. Right so blocks are over SO? I still have 24 articles to somehow conjure up by Tuesday, with a slew of other shit work besides. So I’ve decided against doing something that will never end anyway. Instead I shall be here to do some RECOMMENDATIONS~. Yay!
OHYEAH did I mentioned? I FINALLY managed to get my hands on Hip Hop Jelly today. Quit asking me what it is, not my fault if you have no life:
IT IS THIS! NOW PREASE BE AWED BY AWESOMENESS.
I quote sixthseal.com:
The Paddle Pop Hip Hop Jelly is described as an apple and peach flavored ice confection, but the thing that makes it stand out is it’s…well, malleable nature.
Indeed YES, it is like icy jelly. Or like jelly ice. Whichever, the point being it’s WEALLY GOOD. So today I randomly came across this mamashop at Clementi (Yeah k WHY was I at Clementi – long story, I ended up stranded in a Bus Stop located ‘After Estoril Mans’ DON’T ASK and somehow groped my way into civilization to be towed home by my mom.) at just felt this immediate instinct, that HHJ was near.
HELL YES I BOUGHT IT ATE IT LOVED IT though it was prolly the dumbest thing to do. Because I was wet from the rain, and deathly cold as any icemother. Also, I was about to get in my mom’s car. So, really – not the smartest thing to do. But worth it. TOTALLY worth it. I mean it’s not everyday you find HIP HOP JELLY in stock!
Now to the climax of this post. And I MEAN CLIMAX AS IN OMFH IT IS A TONGUE ORGAAAASM!
THE. WHIRLEY. POTATO.
The photo does not do justice to the true extent of it’s omnipotence. And neither can ANY description I attempt. NOTHING. Nothing can ever fully capture The Greatness of The Whirley Potato.
Everything about it is divine. The shape, the seasoning, the size the cut the moisture the crunch. It is the POTATO GOD. It is the HEAVENLY MASTER POTATO OF ALL POTATOES.
The potato is elegantly sliced into a spiral shape, then skewered through a stick, deep fried and dusted with cheese powder, to provide OPTIMUM eating pleasure. (If you ask me this should be the shape of ALL FOODSTUFF from today on.)
First your teeth meets the crisp golden surface of the potato; your tongue comes into contact with the cheese powder. It is this gentle invasion of tangy sweetness – this series of EXPLOSION that then settles in so comfortably you start to believe it’s impossible to live without it’s taste.
As this taste condenses on your tongue, you sink deeper into the layer of potato. It is perfection. Not thin to the point of being like a chip, not thick enough to be a fry (I mean what ARE these lousy substitutes since the birth of The Whirley Potato?) The perfect width. At this point, the combined pleasure of the outer crispiness giving way to satin softness, the pure sauteed fragrance it bears, and the mothergoodness of the cheese powder, elevates you to this realm of FOOD NIRVANA.
Even the process of ripping layers of potato off the stick incites this primal ecstasy that reminds me why I keep myself alive in this world of cruelty, pain and homework.
Woah somwhere there I had to take a moment off to exalt silently about The Whirley Potato and my memory of it, this thing really has quite a grip on my emotional state.
Anyway, this isn’t really called The Whirley Potato, though to me it remains as that. It’s some Korean invention (I LOVE THEM KOREANS) I think they call it the spiral fried potato? It also comes with a range of other flavored powders.
K I was gonna put up some songs and shit but I decided that the Whirley Potato warrants a post of its own. Even having it share this space with the Hip Hop Jelly is a little blasphemous but ah well.
PLEASE GO EAT THE WHIRLEY POTATO / THE SPIRAL FRIED KOREAN POTATO / TORNADO POTATO / THE REINCARNATION OF POTATO GOD, AND ACHIEVE NIRVANA WITH ME!
Edit: While re-reading this post, I actually had to scroll repeatedly just so I can get to see the picture like, many times and closely. It’s like I’m watching porn, but more embarrassing. Cause it’s not a naked man it’s a naked freaking potato. If I had to choose I want to get my teeth on the potato. Screw the man. No wait, I’d rather screw the potato too.
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Starbuck’s Trenta to take over the World.
Alright, so. This is the new size Starbucks has come up with (in US).
A 31-ounce Trenta.
Which, if you ask me, is what I’d use to kill my horse.
Like, if I had a horse. And in the unlikely event that I’d want to kill my horse if I had one.
THE POINT BEING. This is insane. I mean, maybe it’s just me, but a Tall’s enough to start a mini-clubbing arena up in my head complete with bad techno music and sequin bedecked lians, driving me to stay up the entire night creating the mother of all internal monologues. So a Trenta will.. no I won’t even go there.
This is not freaking Big Gulp, which is basically just made of nonsense and coloring. So at worst, you’ll pee out all the nonsense and your organs will be neon blue or whatever. THIS IS MADE OUT OF EFFING HUNDRED TONNES OF CAFFEINE. It is something that, if given to any teen about 30 years back, would have the immediate effect of having his liver shrivel up and fall out through his asshole.
Starbucks is becoming yet another one of those scary world-dominating organizations alongside MacDonald’s and Facebook and THAT. IS. BAD. I mean, they totally encourage studying in their premises (which is WEIRD enough; look at the times we got chased out of Coffee Bean and Macs).
And they, as the years go by, introduce larger (and more expensive) versions of their cup poison. So much so that we gradually train our systems to take this massive and unnatural amount of caffeine without spasming on the spot and dying. One day we’ll be drinking out of freaking BUCKETS, really. And then Starbucks can go ahead to add in traces of mind-controlling substances and by then we’ll no longer operate under our own will.
No, one day we’ll be Macs eating, Starbucks drinking, Facebook using left4dead insomniac living corpses who- OMG.
OMG. We already are that.
Q 