Of protectionism and skinheads.

It’s really amusing how the government’s encouraging Singaporeans to improve themselves through courses, and through upgrading courses, citing reasons that encompass reasons such as being more competitive, increasing their employability and making themselves on par, or better than the foreign ‘talents’ that’re slowly taking over every single job available on the market.

It’s really sad how I walk to the coffeeshop near my place, and I see Chinese PRC nationals clearing plates and sweeping the floor. It’s even sadder when I head to the toilet at SMRT train stations, and I see Chinese PRC nationals cleaning the toilets. It’s not sad simply because they’re Chinese PRCs, but more so because these jobs were once considered to be jobs for the elderly, a “fall back” plan if you may, for the aged and old, most if not all of whom are lowly (or not) educated or qualified for any other kind of jobs.

I do not disagree that it serves the nation well to encourage and promote healthy competition between the citizens and the foreigners, as only the best person for the job will ultimately get it. I do not disagree that it serves the company, and ultimately the nation well, to give absurdly high salaries to these foreigners for taking over positions within various companies, as this will encourage them to stay on and contribute to the country in the long run.

I do not disagree that we as citizens, ought to improve ourselves, and to ensure that we can meet competition head on, and prove our worth. In a way, we are obligated, if you may, to ensure that we are the best man/woman for the job, by making damned sure that we have the skills required and the abilities demanded by the job.

I do not disagree that we ought to serve up some form of elitism when it comes to finding the right man for the job. I do, however, disagree when foreigners are hired over Singaporeans for jobs simply because their salaries are cheaper. How does expecting a lower salary naturally translate into better job performance? It’s a given that all companies operate with only profit maximization in mind, but what about the rights and the lives of the locals? What happened to protecting the lives of the domestic citizens? Since when did profit maximization trample over the rights and the lives of locals?

It saddens me to see a Chinese PRC national serving me Teh-C at the coffeeshop in Clementi because somewhere out there, an elderly old man lost his chance to get a job serving Teh-C.

It saddens me to see a Chinese PRC national clearing plates the foodcourt in Lot1 because somewhere out there, an elderly old woman lost her chance to get a job clearing plates the foodcourt.

It saddens me to see Chinese PRC nationals replacing our aged and elderly because most of them will probably not be able to get a job anywhere else, and probably need the job more than any of the Chinese PRC nationals. This is Singapore today, built by the hands of yesteryear – hands belonging to the very same group of people vying for menial, unskilled jobs that once were rightfully theirs.

As many of our esteemed ministers have said, Singapore is not a welfare state, and to expect the state to give monthly handouts to them would be downright unfeasible – which is why these elderly folk are taking to the streets to work, earning minimum sum wages just to tide their last remaining years through without being too much of a burden on their children, most of which would probably belong to the lower/middle – middle income group. How can the government expect these elderly folk to survive if there’s no welfare handed out, and no jobs for them to take up?

The very same group of silver haired patriots built our nation from scratch, protected it when it came under siege, voted the people in power today in power back when the nation was politically unstable and weak.

Who will protect them the way they protected the nation when She cried for help?

Do we need domestic protection, the way the skinheads in the United States ‘protected’ the whites in rural areas? Do we need explicit xenophobia to get our point across? Do we need to sour ties and burn bridges, with citizens taking the law into their own hands, to ensure that the rights and lives of our citizens are protected?

The government was brought in to serve the people, and serve them well it has!

The government was also brought in to ensure that the rights of the citizens were not trampled on, for they are the walking ambassadors of the nation – does the trampling on the rights of citizen not equate to trampling on the rights of the nation as a whole?

The government was brought in to serve and to protect, so serve and protect already.

We, the citizens of Singapore.

We, the citizens of Singapore…

are nothing more than “mere mortals”.

we are “mollycoddled”.

we “spend too much in times of crisis”.

we do not understand what it means to have “long term investments”.

we bitch and gripe too much about excessive transportation fares, even though we’re fortunate enough to have world class transportation systems in place – SMRT.

we whine and complain about rising GST (Goods and services tax), yet splurge $5000 on a new LV handbag during the great singapore sale.

we lack the intellect that our leaders posses and thus should not question wise decisions made by them.

we are a ungrateful bunch, and complain about the “rising costs of living” when there are “no poor people living in Singapore”.

We, the citizens of Singapore…

are “mollycoddled”, just like the thousands of taxi drivers driving at night, bleary eyed.

“spend too much in times of crisis”, like the old woman at the coffeeshop near my place who spends extravagantly on a plate of white rice with vegetables and a glass of plain water.

do not understand “long term investments” because we lack the “intellect” possessed by those who make decisions.

“bitch and whine about the rising transportation fees” because we’d rather drive our Mercedes Benz to work, much like how the CEO of SMRT does every day without fail.

“complain about rising GSTs” because the old uncle living above me has to think twice before buying his usual meat from the wet market because it has risen in price.

are an ungrateful bunch because we are too used to living in comfort – with GST implementations aimed at helping the poor, rising COE prices for us to afford cars, ERP gantries to grant us smooth and pleasant journeys towards town so that we could blow our 2 month paycheck on a LV handbag.

we are myopic, because there are no poor people in Singapore except for the few “ungrateful” individuals who refuse to upgrade their skills or find a job, much like the old lady i see sleeping on the benches near my house, or the old man who carries all his belongings in a tattered bag that serves as his pillow at night.

we are ignorant, because we have made the decision and kept THEM in power.

we are foolish, because we’re made to believe (and we do!) that their word is good as gold, and their decisions unquestionable.

we are helpless, because we made ourselves helpless, and because we have not yet found the balls to speak up, to step up, and to say, “Hey, its time that you guys moved on. It’s time that we chose who we want to be in power. It’s time for we, the citizens of Singapore, to make a stand, and to make an informed decision.”

It’s time for us, the citizens of Singapore, to leave our mollycoddled, ignorant, selfish and ungrateful lives behind, and to do what we have been encouraged to do, and to take control of our lives.

Lead by (negative) example please!

Yes I know I just posted, but this is too amazing to pass up. Lead by example, was the message delivered to all senior management in all sectors of the workforce, and said senior management were all encouraged to use retrenchment as the last resort. Senior management were encouraged to lead by example, and to take pay cuts, either deeper or similar to that imposed upon the non-mangerial workers, before putting such salary cuts into play.

I don’t think I’ll need to talk about the irony present in this very article, taking to consideration how much our ministers are bringing home every year as compared to the normal governmental servant working in the civil sector, like my dad for instance. $60-$72k a year as compared to $1.2m or more a year? It’s absurd that my dad takes a pay cut, whereas our ministers do not.

True, its undeniable that our ministers are the elites among the elites, with most of them holding Doctorates from foreign universities, much less deniable that they’ve done their role in governing Singapore, extremely well too, if I may add.

However, is it thus safe to say that civil sector workers such as my dad are no less important as compared to say, the Minister of Education? Without blue-collared or lower-level white-collared workers, will there be an IR to speak of? Will there be NUS to speak of?

If civil servants take a pay cut, and their immediate superiors take a deeper pay cut, why aren’t we seeing ministers taking a pay cut as well? They were the ones who imposed a self-declared salary hike, in a progressive package in the midst of the economic downturn, so now that Singapore’s experiencing a technical recession, why aren’t we seeing a self-declared pay cut?

Do they really expect to be treated as a cut above the rest, expecting the rest to take a pay cut to justify retrenchment and any form of “cost-saving” measures, while they’re taking home $1.2 million each year?

Lead by example please!

OH WOE TO US.

Woman’s $8.8million frozen

From the article, a 91 year old woman had SGD$8.8million frozen in her OCBC account, despite repeated instructions by her to “close her account”, with OCBC officials citing doubts with regards to the old lady’s “mental capacity to manager her financial affairs independently”, and claiming that they “acted in line with the duty of care imposed upon them by law”.

Such an honourable act, protecting the assets of a senile old lady from the greedy, grubby paws of her loved ones, who’re most likely trying to swindle the money from her.

Such an honourable act, insisting that the old lady be examined by a psychiatrists when this old lady hired a fucking lawyer to apply for summary judgement with regards to this case. This old lady must have been mentally incapable of managing her financial assets well – she blew a chunk of cash to hire a lawyer and to fight her case in court! Imagine the amount of money spent on taxi-ing to and fro from court, oh and to her lawyer’s office as well!

Such an honourable act, leading a 91 year old woman, deemed mentally incapable of managing her finances, into a room for a “face to face meeting with senior bank officials” and the ubiquitous PR manager. If this old lady was incapable of managing her finances, and deemed to be in a poor mental state, how the flying fuck can she comprehend what senior bank officials are saying?

Bank officials: Ah soh ah… your money ah… cannot let you take cuz you kee siao already.
Ah soh: Similanjiao? Go market buy fish ah ok ok i pay $1000 for fish hor ok.

The irony’s so thick that I could cut it with a damned knife.

On Aug 29, Madam Hwang filed a suit against OCBC for breach of contract. She wanted the High Court to compel the bank to give back her money.

Explain to me once again, how an old lady who’s supposedly mentally incapable of managing her finances could have filed a fucking lawsuit against OCBC for a very specific clause – breach of contract. She explicitly stated that she wanted her cash back, yet OCBC insisted that they would not process further instructions with regards to her account, because they were duty-bound to “protect” her. How is this protecting the old lady?

Isn’t it the old lady’s perogative to close her account? If she was obviously senile and incapable of managing her funds, it would be an obvious choice to deny her access to the account. However, in this case, the old lady FILED FUCKING LAWSUITS against OCBC. If this doesn’t prove that the fiesty old lady’s perfectly fine, I don’t know what else would.

It is our duty, as morally upright citizens, to take care and look out for the interests of the elderly, as they are automatically deemed to be senile once they’re old. Thus it is definitely appropriated for OCBC to freeze her assets, and to deny any access to it. Woe to OCBC should the old lady’s loved once plunder her account, and waste $8.8m of her hard earned money on worthless minibonds, the way the various Town Councils did! Woe to OCBC should her loved ones remove $8.8m from her account, and close it, rendering OCBC one less customer! Woe to OCBC should her loved ones plunder the $8.8m on worthless minibonds, such as Merrill Lynch and Lehman Bros minibonds! (Did I mention this earlier? OOPS I DID!)

Woe to us, should we not look out for the interests of the elderly.

The elderly should not have control over their finances! The elderly should not have control over their lives!

The elderly should not be given the reins and the keys to a country!

Woe to us should this ever happen!

Oh no, WOE TO US NOW.

Radical new proposition to the Government!

Jailed for pedestrian’s death
This is an amazing article, and I say amazing not in awe or with a wow factor, but with a resigned sigh in place.

From the article, a young lady driver noticed an elderly couple waiting to cross the road off Dunman Road, and honked her horn at them to warn them that she was approaching. Perfectly normal and as per what the Basic Theory book taught no? Here’s the kicker – instead of practicing some semblence of defensive driving, our protagonist stepped on the accelerator, thinking that the elderly couple would give way to the vehicle. No surprise there, as her car slammed right into the elderly couple, killing one and injuring the other. The lady driver was subsequently jailed for a month and banned from driving for 5 years.

What on earth’s happening to young drivers nowadays? I’m no old fart myself – 22, to be exact, but I dare say that I don’t do stupid things on the road like accelerate after honking at people on the road. I do speed occasionally on the expressway, but I sure as hell practice some form of defensive driving and I sure as hell do not assume that others will give way to me, or that simply because I have the right of way, I can do as I please.

It definitely comes as no surprise that there’re so many teenagers nowadays dying in road traffic accidents involving powerful sportscars, or motorcycles. In my opinion, that’s just Darwinism at work.

It’s nice and dandy that little rich kids have rich parents who’re willing to buy powerful sports cars for their beloved spawns and offsprings because they “love their satanic spawns” too damned much.

It’s also nice that said parents believe in giving their kids the best that money can buy, and as such, an excessive (read: disgusting) amount of pocket money, paving the way for these kids to zhng, or modify their cars because they are racers or it’s cool to be a racer like Jay Chou in Initial D or that angmoh fucktard in Tokyo Drift.

It’s DEFINITELY wonderful that these kids, with their pseudo-racer mentality, take it that girls get wet at their little secret place when they’re seated in a car going vroom vroom at 160kmph or more, and will probably want to suck their dicks because the modifications to the sports car made the engine vibrate MORE than a typical vibrator.

So vroom vroom goes the car, ugh ugh goes the girl, fap fap thinks the humsup driver, and screech screech boom goes the powerful sports car when it spins out of control and slams into a lamp post, or another vehicle.

Oh and boo-hoo-fucking-hoo for their parents, as their poor talented little offsprings head off to meet Satan in their afterlife, or if they were nice little kids, Jebus in Heaven to get bitch slapped for being such idiots.

We need MORE road traffic accidents involving teenagers, sportscars, and preferably lamp posts. Collateral damage should, and has to be kept to a strict zero, simply because we shouldn’t have to pay for the stupidity of others. Why lamp posts, you may ask.

I draw your attention to “$12m in troubled products, where two town councils have about SGD$12,000,000 in bad investment products, aka Lehman Minibonds and Merrill Lynch Jubilee Series 3. This SGD$12 million, meant for upgrading works to HDB buildings, routine mantainance, and any other long term repair works, has disappeared, and because this was an honest mistake, we as nice little Sillyporeans should move on and not harp on this anymore. Thus, it would be a win-win situation if little rich kids ram their sportscars into lamp posts, as they’ll be required to pay for the damaged lamp post.

Should enough stupid rich kids crash their performance cars into enough lamp posts, the Singapore government might actually be able to cover their SGD$12,000,000 losses! All they have to do is to reduce the number of Traffic Police patrols, police road blocks, as well as the removal of speed cameras on places popular with “racers”.

Perhaps the Government could name Marina Bay’s new landmark bridge Racer’s Bridge, in the hopes that it’ll attract all the racers to congregate and race there. By declaring the bridge a racing zone and removing ALL traffic police/police roadblocks and patrols in the area, and not installing any speed cameras, the Singapore Police Force can effectively cut down on operational costs, and with more lampposts being damaged, earn revenue to cover the SGD$12,000,000 deficit!

On an unrelated note, the Urban Redevelopment Authority (URA) would like members of the public to name the above mentioned bridge. Seeing how Singapore has a trend of naming key landmarks in a rather duh fashion (ie. Budget Terminal, Marina Bay…) I suggest that the URA name the bridge “The Marina Bay Bridge linking the Bayfront area to Marina Center”, or simply “The Long Bridge”. There’s no need for arty farty sciency names like “DNA link” or “Double-helix” because the typical Singaporean will not be able to understand it! By giving it a simplistic name, this will ensure that your typical Singapore will remember the bridge, and actually know what it means when they introduce it to foreigners.

FT (Foreign “talent”): Excuse me, what bridge is that?
SG (Singaporean): Oh that one ah… the long bridge loh.
FT: ??? Yes, it’s long indeed, but what’s the name of the bridge?
SG: Jibai lah you think limpeh bluffing you ijjits? The Long Bridge lah silang angmoh… don’t unnerstand say don’t unnerstand lah. Gong simi lanjiao ang mor… Hor gao kan larh pui.

For the fucking win please.

5.30am

I hate staying awake because there’s nobody online to talk to at 5.30am, and it sure as hell feels lonely as fuck in my room.

But I still have to finish my webcast and my essay outline. Damn it.

Now playing:
Secondhand Serenade – Fall for you

I am (not)free

go to work, send your kid to school;

follow fashion, act normal;

walk on the pavement, watch tv;

save for your old age, obey the fucking law;

repeat after me: I AM (not)FREE

Banglas and buses

The Government recently announced plans to house foreign workers in dormitories converted over from old and unused state buildings such as schools, which would mean an increased in the number of public nuisance complains, loud and noisy bullshitting sessions at void decks, littering, and a migration of their culture (often ugly) over.

I’ve had friends who tell me not to be racist, and that these foreign workers – both the Banglas and the Tiongs, are here to work because they’re seeking a better future and a better life for themselves and their loved ones back at home, and because of that, we should take pity on them and emphatize with them.

In either 2 or 3 years time, I’ll be working to seek a better future, and to hopefully get a better life for myself and to provide for my family in the future. Who’s going to be looking out for me, and who’s gonna symphatize with me.

“Aww.. look Alvyn’s so tired because he’s been working so hard. Let me give him another $3000 on top of his salary each month because I can emphatize with him.”

But I digress.

Why should we pity them if they’re not making an attempt to integrate into society? When in Rome, do as the Romans do no?

Interesting story to share with my readers here. I took a bus from Harbourfront/Vivocity on Sunday night, and the bus stop was crammed with Bangladeshi workers waiting to grab a bus back to their shipyard dormitory. As expected, they were running up and down trying to cram into the buses, pushing, shoving and generally making a lot of noise. I let 3-4 buses pass before I decided to board 143. Just as I was getting my left foot onto the steps of the bus, some fucking Bangla tried to push his way up from the side. I instinctively elbowed his face and pushed him away, much to the amusement of the other Singaporean passengers around me, and told him to “fuck off asswipe”.

On the hindsight, I felt a little sad because I didn’t put enough weight into elbowing his fucking face.

And this is just how they take buses back to their shipyard dormitories. How can we expect to see anything different once they start congregating at void decks to drink, eat and to party? How can we be expected to compromise and to adapt to their styles, when the Government has been telling us for so long now that, “Singapore’s our home”?

To end off, let me just mention a couple of places that would be ideal to house all foreign workers… places such as <b>Jurong Island, Kusu Island, Pedra Branca, Sister’s Island</b>…

What the fuck.

When someone asks you if you want to go for supper, it actually means “hey would you like to head out to grab a bite with me/us?” and not “hey you want to da bao anything?”

Everybody has fucking 8am or 10am lectures or tutorials, and everybody needs to fucking sleep. If you want to eat, have the fucking basic courtesy off heading out with them to eat, and not assuming that they’re going to da bao for you.

You’re using people, arseholes. That’s not a nice thing to do, unless you’re always offering to da bao for others as well. You need to fucking study, need to fucking rest, need to fucking masturbate or do whatever you fucks do in your rooms at night. But hey, here’s news for you – SO DO WE YOU MOTHERFUCKERS.

Goddamn it.

Stereotypes

Stereotyping is bad, mmkay?

And people who can do paperwork and handle administrative stuff are important mmkay?

Save tonight

It’s always a nice feeling to leave the studio feeling rejuvenated rather than taxed and burnt out, and its definitely a great feeling to jam with experienced and musicians who are willing to accept criticism and to learn from mistakes.

Musicians who cannot accept criticism and are unwilling to swallow their prides and ask for help shouldn’t be termed as musicians at all. They’re just fame-whores with minimal musical knowledge.

Sick

Down with throat infection, flu, fever. What a fucking awesome way to start FWOC.

Of broken spectacles and amazing spectacles.

So my frameless specs decided to give way on me today out of nowhere. Fucking frame snapped into two just as I was removing it – photos up as soon as I get the camera out of the dry cabinet.

On a side note, I seriously, seriously, seriously cannot stand people who make a spectacle out of themselves in public places. Just fucking die already.

154th media and a loaded SAR-21 Rifle

Early on while I was still at work, I happened to chance upon (hehe. happened. chance.) an article on Dave Teo’s case and I read with amazement at how absurd the entire thing was. Dave Teo stole a SAR-21 automatic rifle, along with 5 live rounds out of his camp while on guard duty. He retrieved three more rounds from his house, and proceeded to Geylang to fuck the shit out of a hooker. Happy with his fuck, he took the loaded rifle and went to town – yes I say loaded because he cocked and loaded a round into the chamber, and like any good NSF, placed the fucking rifle on safe. 1 day off for Cpl (Was he a cpl?) Dave Teo for remembering what his Platoon Sergeant said in BMT, “FUCKING CHEEBYE TEO PUT YOUR FUCKING RIFLE ON FUCKING SAFE YOU JIBAI WHICH PART OF SAFE YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND YOU WANT ME TO GO THERE AND FUCKING SLAP YOU ISSIT! PUT YOUR FUCKING RIFLE ON SAFE YOU CHAO CHEE BYE!”

Anyhoo. He proceeded to fuck around a little, before finally being arrested at Cineleisure’s toilet, and here’s the kicker, with the motherfucking rifle on him, complete with 8 live rounds. For the uninformed, the SAR21 fires a 5.56mm round, and fires at a rate of (if I don’t remember wrongly) ~600rpm. Which meant that if that crazy motherfucker squeezed the trigger with his SAR21 set on auto, it would deplete his rounds in less than 2 seconds.

So this Dave Teo steals a rifle, steals live rounds, tells his friend/pimp/ossifer, that he wants to kill himself/scare his gf/shoot and kill 5 people he hated (delete where applicable), and receives 9 years in jail and 18 strokes of the cane. The Judge even said gave him encouraging words and told him to make full use of his time in jail. Yeah right, I hope the only way he’ll make full use of his time is to figure out which way to cut along his wrist

Why so harsh? You ask.

Let me break it down for you in simple laymen terms. Dave Teo expressed intent to kill 5 people, expressed intent to scare his girlfriend with the rifle, expressed intent to kill himself. If I walked around telling people that I wanted to stab some dude with a screwdriver, and actually stole one from a hardware store, I would be royally, majorly fucked.

Dave Teo went AWOL and left his assigned place of duty before he was officially relieved. That would be summary execution in wartime, and probably jail term during peacetime.

Dave Teo stole a motherfucking rifle and live rounds from his camp. That would be jail time with lots of KY jelly.

Dave Teo was sentenced to 9 years in prison and 18 strokes of the cane, and may be charged in a military court when he ORDs from Changi Prison. How can anybody in their right sense of mind allow a person like him to walk the very streets that he did, albeit carrying a fucking loaded rifle, to be allowed to assimilate back into society, the very society that he threatened and the very country that he betrayed by shaming his comrades in green?

Oh yes did I mention that because of his very cool act of walking out of camp with a loaded rifle, the Duty Ossifer, the Guard Commander and basically anybody around or above him in rank would probably be subject to disciplinary action?

Non-prevention of offences
27. Every person subject to military law who knows that another person is planning or attempting to commit an offence under section 11, 12, 15, 22 or 23 and fails to take reasonable steps to suppress or prevent its commission shall be guilty of an offence and shall be liable on conviction by a subordinate military court to imprisonment for a term not exceeding 2 years or any less punishment authorised by this Act.

Failure to report deserters and absentees
24. Every person subject to military law who, knowing that any other person has committed an offence under section 22 or 23 —

(a) fails to report the fact without delay; or

(b) fails to take any steps within his power to cause that person to be apprehended,

shall be guilty of an offence and shall be liable on conviction by a subordinate military court to imprisonment for a term not exceeding 2 years or any less punishment authorised by this Act.

So yes, please tell me again why there’s so much press coverage over such a retard. Pray tell me why.

I bring you attention over to http://www.channelnewsasia.com/stories/singaporelocalnews/view/358406/1/.html, where an EVO driver crashed into a cab and killed both the cabbie and the passenger on the spot.

Is this not juicy enough news for you?

Young punk crashes heavily modded rally/race car into taxi, killing both the passenger and the driver instantly! All this and more, only on Channel FuckenFive!

But yes, fucking young punk with a need for speed gets his daddy to sponsor moolah for him to zhng his “brand new” 2nd hand EVO, complete with fucken huge-ass spoiler, side skirts, sports rims and of course, the ZHNGED AND TUNED engine.

He raced a DC5R, heavily modded no doubt, and tried in vain to catch up with the car, thus beating a red light, and crashing into the taxi.

And all that, just to impress some chick who was probably sitting next to him, gripping the sides of the new and impressive looking bucket seat and trying her best not to puke her fucking guts out. Well gues what, she probably wasn’t too impressed, seeing how she had to be taken to the hospital, then to the Police Station for questioning – and hey! If she’s a driver too, she’ll be charged for not stopping him from racing!

Channel News Asia dedicated a page to this incident at http://www.channelnewsasia.com/stories/singaporelocalnews/view/358406/1/.html, and flashed a short Newsflash for all of 10 seconds.

Straight Times (because its so impartial, its straight!) didn’t bother running an article because it didn’t concern: Singapore Politics, Malaysian Politics, Rape, Murder, Anal Sex, Oral Sex, Gay Sex, Lesbian Sex, Tentacle sex… oops did I say that?

Well, so where’s the press coverage on this incident Mr. Newsman? Sure, Dave Teo’s parents lost their son, but surely his life should be worth less as compared to two innocent parties right?

Right?

Where’s the motherfucking press coverage you bunch of pencil-pushing dick-sucking pus-nutted pencil-cocked shit-for-brain pansies.

http://alvyn.blogsome.com til further notice.

Riders and inconsiderate motorists.

I refer to Laremy’s blog about inconsiderate motorists on the road.

I’ve had my fair share of inconsiderate motorists on the road too (not that I’m damn bleddy perfect la, but at least I think I’m not that reckless or boh hiew lan).. like a week ago when I was driving back to hall from CCK. I signalled left to change to the middle lane, and this SBS bus happily just swerved out from the bus bay, into the first lane, and right smack into the middle lane. So basically, my car was on a collision course with the bus’s side. I hit the brakes, swerved right (thankfully it was empty), and sounded my horn at him. No reply from him. It’s a pity I couldn’t get to see his license plate, otherwise I would have reported him as well. Second incident happened with Wee Ping, Mel, Yvonne and Pei Xun in my car, right outside The Cathay at Dhoby Ghaut. I was stuck in the outer turning lane, while waiting for a taxi to turn. Once he completed his turn, I proceeded to move off straight. Out of nowhere, this white Honda Civic swerved in, and cut right into me, leaving a gap less than 20cm from my car. I slammed on the brakes, hit my horn and showed him the finger.

I swear, fuckers like them should be punished by watching TP’s traffic safety video on max volume. Restrain them in chairs, make them watch it NON-STOP for like a day or so. If that doesn’t work, just let them listen to Traffic Watch nonstop, at max volume for like another day or so. I’m willing to bet that they’ll take traffic regulations and basic etiquette more seriously.

As for riders, I just had my share of riders who really deserve to get run over by my vios sometime. I was again, in the turning lane right outside Fong Seng, when this group of 3-4 mat riders pulled up next to me. Credit be given to them, they did signal for the turn. When the lights turned green, the whole fucking group of them just spread out and took over both lanes, effectively blocking me from lining up properly for my turn, then proceeded to take over all 3 lanes by spreading one bike in each lane. I only managed to get past them by squeezing my self past one idiot who moved too much to the right and opened up a hole. The left fucking lane is there for a reason when you’re going slow… use it goddamn it.

Enough rantings, I’d like to emphasize again how important it is to check your freaking blind spot. Ivan, my guitarist, just got into an accident when another traffic idiot side-swiped his scrambler while changing lanes because that idiot didn’t check his fucking blind spot. If anybody can miss a gigantic fella sitting ontop of a gigantic scrambler, how many others will miss tiny scrawny mats/ah bengs on tiny class 2B bikes? Ivan’s fine, thankfully, but think of how many people who’s reactions may be slower and may not be as lucky as him.

FOR FUCK’S SAKE YOU FUCKING ROAD IDIOTS, DRIVE PROPERLY AND LEARN TO FUCKING SIGNAL. SIGNALLY WILL NOT CAUSE YOUR CAR/BIKE TO DEPRECIATE IN VALUE. BUT WRAPPING YOUR CAR/BIKE AROUND A FUCKING TREE OR ANOTHER VEHICLE WILL CERTAINLY CAUSE YOUR FUCKING LIFE TO DEPRECIATE. GODDAMN IT.

The long awaited update

Okay for foos like Fysh (who called himself FYSH LEONG on facebook) and Huiwen (who replied with a “nod” for on my comments), here’s your long awaited update :@.

Nothing much been’s happening apart from hall stuff and school work. Yes, I know its fucking boring, but eh fuck you think my life’s so happening issit?

shakenotstirred just did our AHM gig, along with our latest gig at Ben and Jerry’s last week, and we did a pretty fucking good job. Went there, rocked the place down, and at the end of it all, got paid and had fun. So kudos to the band. Photos’ll be up soon, or as soon as I can bother to upload them, whichever comes first.

KRockers, aka my hall’s band, will be playing at TGIO (Thank God It’s Over) tomorrow night, and I’ll be playing for both the Disco Band, or more affectionately known as Disco69, and the finale band. It’s a refreshing change to be playing with different people of different musical styles and backgrounds. I’m also playing for NUS’s CAC band for some holland V gig, so I’ll post infomation up again when the date draws nearer.

Ok I just thought about something to bitch about. Let’s bitch about morons who post stupid comments on IVLE forums, and morons who ask stupid questions during lectures/tutorials.

There’re guys who make wierd comments like “YESSSS UK! GO UK!” in the middle of political science lecture, morons who are either fucking brainless, or who never bothered reading their texts for English, and end up asking stupid questions like “Can disgraceful and disgruntled be split into dis-grace-ful, and dis-gruntle-ed respectively.” Fuck off and read your knn text lah. Morons.

Been a while since I last posted… so here I am, back again with more random rants and bullshit to er… bullshit my oh-so-loyal readers.

Two tests tomorrow, for EL1101E and HY1101E, that’s English and History for you fucking nubs who don’t know the horrors of bidding for modules, and I’m majorly fucked because I have no HY1101E textbook, and the NUS Co-op’s out of stock too.

Hip-hoo-fucking-ray.

Stay tuned for more random shit. Goddamn it.

Of self-confidence and cockiness

Reading through the email I just sent to my bandmates, I realised that it was actually very, very bloggable material.

In my email, I talked about self-confidence and cockiness in a performing musician. I’m sure that not many people will agree with me, but personally I feel that self-confidence, bordering on cockiness, is one the most, if not the most, important factor a musician can take on stage with him/her.

True enough, you need the skills and experience to perform live and in public, but confidence is an aura that you exude and people feel. A musician with average skills and experience level, but with confidence on stage is definitely more appealing to the public as compared to a skilled musician with no confidence.

I choose to think that my skill as a drummer, along with my gigging experience is definitely above average, and I do know for a fact, that my confidence level on stage behind the drumset is adequete, bordering (or rather, exceedingly) on cockiness. People have commented on the fact that they found my stage presence, together with my chops and groove, was definitely a plus point. However, some other people have told me that my stage presence and cockiness was a bit of a turn off at times.

Any comments on the various trains of thoughts?

FUCK

Sometimes there’s no need to blog too much to express how you feel. This is one the of the times.

FUCK THIS SHIT

… that’s me in the corner, losing my religion

Musicality

Too many people have been asking me what my influences are, what drumming videos I watch and where I get groove from.

Don’t get me wrong, its great to have influences from great drummers. Personally I really dig Dennis Chambers, Teddy Campbell and Gordon Campbell for their groove, Thomas Lang for his insane chops and Carter Beauford for being the most natural drummer ever.

But imo, that should end there. Just pure influences. Don’t imitate their style, or copy their chops… by all means, use their chops but infuse your own style into it. That’s where your groove comes from.

Groove isn’t about taking multiple chops and styles and hybridising it into one… groove is self developed. It’s when you create your own music, your own beat and your own style. That’s groove.

Groove on guys.

Flu

I’m down with flu.

I’m coughing.

I’ve got a stuffy nose.

I feel feverish.

So fuck off and don’t irritate me or I’ll bite your fucking head off.

Simi wako

Knn I actually tried to cut down on using too much vulgarities on my blog because I realised that a whole shit load of people read my blog, and since everybody thinks I’m a chao ah beng, I tried to cut down on vulgarities so people would think that I’m just some witty mofugger online.

But Jay Tay you motherfucking gay slut you made me use vulgarities on my blog. Just for you, you cumstained chickenshit pencil-dicked son-of-a-bitch, I’ll not bother about what everyone else thinks of me.

You have no leadership abilities whatsoever. You are just an arrogant stumpy piece of shit that happened to be ******’s manager, or store-man, seeing how you spend your time cooped up in your pathetic little store-room, trying to figure out ways to “cut costs” and cut our working timings.

Good luck on trying to solve your fucking discrepancies for drumsticks, accessories and whatever else that’s missing because you can get your gay-pet to help you while I spend the remaining 30 days of my work talking to the others, playing on the drumset, playing on the practice pad, or smoking and taking really long breaks.

Have fun, because you ain’t getting free fucking labour no more you son-of-a-bitch and good luck trying to get your drumsticks back in order because guess what? I’m not gonna help out with the drumsticks, as a matter of fact, before I leave, I’m gonna remove 25% of the sleeves and mess them all up, just so you’ll have one hell of a time trying to rearrange them.

Senior executive? Fuck off you don’t fool anybody. At the end of the day, you’re just a storeman, and you’re still gay.

Gay.

New desktop photo

Beatrix people…. drop me an email or msg me on msn if you want me to send the photos over… photos are 654mb in total, so if you don’t wish to spend 30 mins or more downloading them, let me know and I’ll zip them up and send them to you.

Some decent looking photos. For some reason the photographer doesn’t really like me… either I’m yawning in the photo, or I look like an absolute idiot guffawing. Kinda comical actually when combined together with my oh-so-cute hair.

p/s: for some reason the last 2 photos can’t be resized so i’ll just link em this way

Perlynn getting a free piggyback ride

Valerie getting her free piggyback ride

My not-so-secret-pal (haha winnie )

Update

Hello kids, its Uncle Alvyn again!

It’s not that Uncle Alvyn lost interest in blogging…. don’t be too sad because Uncle Alvyn’s back and meaner than before! (literally.)

Ok I want to rant about a few things. First up, fucked up customers. In a nutshell, we, or I (read: limpeh, me.) am providing you a free service by helping you fix your drumset – be it acoustic or electric. I am NOT taking money from you. I am claiming the money from my fucking company, which means I have to wait for a whole fucking month. I setup your fucking kit, tune your fucking bass drum, snare and toms (or fix all your fucking messy wires), unpack all the shit and setup your stands. So don’t make noise and complain that I didn’t “setup the throne properly” or “placed the cymbals at the correct places” because FUCK YOU adjust your own fucking throne and there isn’t a specific place to place your fucking cheap-ass ZXTs. If I had it my way, I’d just throw it out of the window because the sound of your pathetic beginner SHEET cymbals make me wanna puke my guts out and quit drumming. Bottomline – drum setup and tuning is a free complimentary service that Yamaha provides, limpeh is nice enough to go down to help you setup and tune your kit, so don’t fucking complain about nitty gritty stupid stuff. Kthxdie.

Number two. Let’s whine and rant about little kids, and JC kids who’re attracted to drumsticks.

Let’s start with the more provocative one – JC kids. In a nutshell (again), I don’t understand why you people bother studying. I see RJC, HCJC, NJC…. (endless list shall not continue) kids come in, take out drumsticks and fool around on the practice pad, either trying to show off (and failing) or trying to figure out the difference between the drumsticks. Then when they’re done (or bored), just happily shove the sticks back into a different pigeon hole, conveniently ignoring the sign that says “For the convenience of other customers, please put the sticks back in their respective compartments.” The fucking huge-ass sign that limpeh typed out. So what confuzzles me is the apparant failure to read and understand simple English phrases. My theory’s that they’re too burnt out from burning the midnight oil, or trying to mug, which rendered their brains a little slow.

SO MUCH SO THAT THE FUCKING ASSFLUTES CAN’T EVEN UNDERSTAND MY SIMPLE REQUEST OF PUTTING THE FUCKING LABELLED STICKS BACK INTO THE MOTHERJIBAI LABELLED PIGEON HOLES SIMILANJIAO STUDY SO MUCH ALSO DUNNO HOW TO MATCH STICKS TO HOLES GO FUG YOURSELVES LAR NUBMUFFIN HAPPY MEAL SHITFLAKES EAT SHIT AND BARK AT THE MOON PLS PENCIL DICKS.

Ok #3 is simpler, because I’m tired.

Fuck taxi drivers who think it’s funny to just stop their taxis right in front of you, after just overtaking you, all to pick up a passenger. I don’t care if you don’t value your life, but I value my life, I value my friends’ lives, and I value my fucking car. It’s irritating and annoying that they’d put their own lives (and everybody elses’) at risk all for a $10-$20 fare.

Sigh. Fuck. Sleep. Must, hit, 70, for, rogue. zzz.

PSA

Thursday. 17th May 2007. 2100 hours (or 9pm for you fools who didn’t serve NS). Cathay. Ben and Jerry’s. Top40s. Come kthx.

On a side note, something to ponder upon… How did blogs evolve from an online diary to a online photo diary to an online scandal/sex-life/provocative diary?

Something else to ponder on… does blogging in a provocative manner or about provocative topics make you cool because it gives you e-rep or e-cookies?

Hmm.

Nah. Fuck that.

My blog’s not provocative, its not scandalous, neither is it er… something bad. But eh nabei jibai (no more cheebyes because it sounds too ang mor. jibai sounds more singaporean pls.) my blog is sibei kanpua kaopeh what so people like to read. If I start blogging about how some jibai wants to implement some jibai laws to make us work hard bla bla bla pros and cons bla bla bla economical slum bla bla lampah I think everybody will just alt-f4 (or cmd-q on macs) my blog lah naohiah.

So, limpeh never blog about that lansai. Limpeh blog about how come lantiu fella did some lantiu thing that made limpeh very dulan so limpeh kao peh kao bu. Then in the end also lan lan suck thumb.

Jibai.

Sales and irritating customers

So I’ve been working at Yamaha for what… close to 2 months? And I can safely say I’ve seen all sorts of people, ranging from the mundane boring kind to the really fucking spastic kind, all the way to all the usual fucking poseurs that treat the Plaza Singapura Yamaha as their personal stage/play ground.

For the convenience of my dear readers, and to piss all the fuckers who’re reading my blog, and fall right into the following category, I’ve categorized them into a few categories, but I’ll only post a bunch to save time.

Type 1 – The Greedy Fuckwits, F.B.I, Gian Peng Pubors
Description: The kind of customers who aren’t satisfied that they’re getting 10% Yamaha Member discount, or 13% Yamaha Student discount, yet still request for freebies, and make noise when informed that we do not have any free gifts for them.

Type 2 – The Naggy Uncle/Aunty, Sibei Kiasi
Description: The kind of customers who come in with their pampered and (obviously) spoilt kids, trying out every single fucking instrument and wasting hours of our time. These customers are the ones who ultimately tell us, “I want to get this particular instrument, but I want a new piece.” And when informed that all our instruments are on display and are in perfect fucking condition, they tell us that “But this instrument has a defect see, here! One scratch.” followed by “I think I’ll buy another brand.”

Aiyah fuck off lah if you’re so fucking rich then don’t bother trying out so many guitars, buy them all lah. If you think I’m lying to you that no other shop stocks this brand, then fucking go and FIND them, then buy them. Fucking useless shits.

Type 3 – The Poseurs/Goth-wannabes/Mats/Ginnapis
Description: Nuff said eh? These are the faggots who come in dressed up in their full poseur attire, complete with chains, eye liner, and ugly accessories who think that just because they can play Metallica or GNR on guitar, they’re Petru-fucking-cci, or if that they can pull off pathetically jerky and off-time rolls, they’re Mike fucking Portnoy.

Fuck off pussies because my single hand roll can own your pathetic double hand rolls any fucking day, and my doubles will put you to shame. My time-keeping and my groove? Well they’ll probably make you cream your fucking tight pants, and all you idiots’ll probably fucking worship me, and I wouldn’t want that, because I wouldn’t want to be associated with morons like you. If you can’t afford it, don’t get it. And if you’re not getting it, don’t try it. Simple as that. If you’re not trying it, then fuck off from the shop assflutes.

Type 4 – The Student/The boyfriend
Description: These are the kind of idiots who come into the shop with their classmates, or with some girl, then proceed to “show off” on the keyboards or the guitars, and occasionally on the drums. Sadly, their riffs fall right smack down and backfire on them because 90% of Yamaha staff are proficient or professional musicians. Play GNR on guitars and the staff’ll smoke you upside down. Play stupid rolls on the drumset and I’ll smoke you by playing rudiments all around the kit. Play stupid gay-assed songs on the keyboard, and Yamaha’s very own Josh Groban’ll throw in some jazz and blues and make you feel like a grade 1 pianist. In short, fuck off kthxdie.

Type 5 – The idiot who didn’t have formal education
Description: Simply put, the kind of customer who thinks that they can fool us by coming back without a receipt, or with an item that they obviously damaged, and try to get a refund or to change for another item. When informed that they need a receipt or that they can’t do an exchange/refund, they proceed to throw a huge-assed tantrum and claim that the cashiers did not issue a receipt to them.

Well too fucking bad losers, because all cashiers are taught from day 1 to give BOTH nets/mastercard slip along with the shop receipt to the customer. So hey hey, no refund, no exchange for you fools. Suck it up assfucks.

Oh if by any chance, the two fucking kids who bought that MXR pedal are reading my blog now, fuck you two assflutes too. If you’re so gian about a $5 difference in price, then don’t buy a fucking MXR pedal, go get yourself some bicycle pedals or something because you’re obviously too gian to spend money on your fucking instrument. Fucking kids.

End.

Of work and more work

Work work.

Short and sweet

I’m gonna keep it short and sweet.

Fuck.

Your.

Mother(s).

Starhub Maxonline.

Knnbccb.

Chaocheebye.

Cupfuckcake.

Goddamn it I swear the fucking Cuppycake song shit has got to be the most fucking freaky thing that you can hear when your semi-asleep at night in the dark.

I swear my heart fucking stopped when my phone started playing that fucking ringtone at 2.01am. I thought there was like some ginnah hantu in my room or something lah KNNBCCBHGGMP3.

Hantus ftl.

Ginnah hantu knnbftfl.

Of clubbing and working

Good news, and bad news, my dear readers (of lackof).

The good news? I’m working on Good Friday.

The bad news? I’m going clubbing. AGAIN

After last wednesdays tak-glam episode at Zouk (and outside too…), I felt the need to redeem myself, thus I’ve set myself on this Holy (read: horny) Crusade to rid myself of my tak-glamness, which is why I’m all ready at Fabian’s hostel room waiting for the mofugger to lie to his girlfriend, and for us to head down to look for Thia. Thia if you’re reading this, so sorry my number won nigga I forgot to bring your satanic ring again.

Anyway regarding my work on Good Friday, I’ll be paid twice the pathetic amount I’ll earn for a day, and my boss isn’t around, so all you mofugging jizzypops can pop by Plaza Singapura’s Yamaha combo-shop to look for me and maybe grab a coffee together or something.

You know…

You know you’ve matured a little too much when your birthday means nothing to you, save for the fact that you know that you’re one year closer to dying.

You know that it won’t be the same when the person you want to celebrate with isn’t around to celebrate it with you.

We used to have this figured out;
We used to breathe without a doubt.
When nights were clear, you were the first star that I’d see.
We used to have this under control.
We never thought.
We used to know.
At least there’s you, and at least there’s me.
Can we get this back?
Can we get this back to how it used to be?

Rantology

Dear Dad,

Thank you for bringing me up and seeing me through my childhood and my adolescent years. Thank you for seeing me through Primary School, Secondary School and JC. Thank you for being there for me when I enlisted, and for going through all those rough patches I had.

Thank you, but fuck you.

Fuck you for being that calculative, callous assflute in my life. Fuck you for always denying me what I want because YOU think that it isn’t good. Fuck you for assuming that you’re always right. Fuck you for making me feel as if I owe this family a debt that I’ll never be able to pay back.

There’re times when I long to come home and just bum around, just to be at home. But with you, you make my life at home purgatory with your callous remarks, insensitive comments and your constant nagging. I may look back 10-20 years from now and regret saying such stuff, or even thinking about them, but in the mean time, the ability to curse, swear and rant it all out is something that you can’t deny me.

Thank you, but fuck you too.

Of talks and long rides

The little hokkien composition that I leeched off from somewhere aside, I had a nice talk with Sadaf after sending her home from Sarah’s place, and what struck me was what she said, and I guess that’s the line that I completely agree with. Something along the line of “Don’t judge me by what I do, but by who I am. Whatever I do, it’s ultimately my choice, so accept me for who I am, what I am, and don’t expect me to change or conform just because you don’t like it.”

Cheebye I also don’t know how to phrase properly. If you don’t understand wtf I’m trying to say please ask me yourself because its 3.30am and I’m beginning to sprout rubbish.

Two thumbs up for my new-found bitching partner.

Q: Singalella why become rich ? (60m)

Koo zhar wu chee ay char bor kia,
Singalella.

She got two sisters, but the
stepmarder and the
sisters all damn guai-lan, so she
quite jia-lat
oso.

Last time Singalella got own maid, but
now she
become the amah.

Everyday must cook lah, clean lah,
simi sai mah
bao-kah-liao.

If her sister say liak kar zhuak, she
liak.

Tak jit zho kah tau-hin.

CPF poon boh.

But then, kay piak eh ah-pek got one
son call Ah
Ming got party.

So he say, “oii, long chong lai ah.”

Singalella very happy because she
never go party
before but then her step-marder
say, “lim nama
eh-
sai kee, this one bahru lu eh sisters
wu standard.”

Then Singalella must zho sui-sui for
her sisters
and step-marder.

da pai how, buay zhia, buay koon and
buay pang-
sai.

That night she only can wave bye bye
and then
she go back to the kitchen and cook
Maggi mee.

Her neighbour came over and ask, “Eh,
an-zhua le
boh kee party?”

So Singaalella kong, “I-wan, laobu
kong buay-sai,
so boh bian”

She never expect but the neighbour
say, “Aiyah,
kee lah, I give you money.”

So singalella brush teef and zhang-
zhui, chen-kor,
after that look very different.

She quickly run to opposite of the beh-
chia-lor,
already 11 o’clock.

At the party, Ah Ming also quite sian
because the
char bor all boh sui one.

Dance floor even got one ah pek
dancing.

Just as Ah Ming told himself, “Aiyah
see-pay zhia-
lat”, Singalella came in.

Ah Ming straight away lau nuar.

“Wah-lau eh, see-pay heng ah, chee kor
buay
pai.”

Ah Ming say to Singalella, “eh, sui
eh, wah ai kah
lee zho flen!”

Singalella say ok but Ah Ming like
octopus, touch
here touch there.

But then just it was 12 o’clock, one
ah pek die on
the dance floor.

He become ghost and tell Singalella
all the good
4D number.

So after that Singalella quickly go
and buy 4D, and
then tiok tau-pio, zhit-pak ban.

So she pay back the kay-piak eh lau-
kay-poh and
then kah kee cho sen-lee.

Simi kuan eh sen-lee wah mana eh zhai.

This is my shield,
I bear it before me in battle,
But it is not mine alone.
It protects my brother on my left.
It protects my city.
I will never let my brother out of its shadow,
Nor my city out of its shelter.
I will die
with my shield before me
Facing the enemy.

Update…

Here’s an update for all you “loyal” visitors to my blog (grand total of 25 trolls naohiah). I’ve not been updating much recently due to certain mitigating factors.

Firstly, I’ve started working at Yamaha, so I won’t be able to post much (duh). Work is good because it involves me messing around on the snares, the cymbals and the e-kit. And occassionally acting busy by rearranging drumsticks, cleaning the guitars and sticking stickers onto various items.

Secondly, I’m hooked on channel surfing, so you’re more likely to find me sitting in front of the google box rather than er google HAHA.

Thirdly, I don’t feel like updating much.

Ok on a last note before I fall asleep, there’s been a hell lot of searches redirecting to my blog under the search terms “BEN AND JERRYS AUDITION SINGAPORE”. Let me help out some poor souls here.

The audition’ll go like this… Jason (or Victor) will ask you guys to play 3 songs of your choice, and I’d highly recommend radio-friendly tunes because it IS catered for the general public so its good to have people singing along to songs they know. Don’t fuck up the 3 songs, make sure your timing is right and your vocalist doesn’t “zao siah”. Drummer, don’t lose that beat and please for fucks’ sake don’t show off your limited chops if you don’t have anything to show case. It’s better to keep a steady tempo/beat/groove than to show off and end up looking and sounding like a complete n00b. Trust me, I’ve seen my fair share of stupid drummers who think it’s cool to pull off 32nd note snare drum rolls, then lose the beat completely, coming in 1 beat too late or too early. You sound like shit. Guitarists, solos would be ideal, again, IF you can pull them off.

I’ll say it again – general band “tightness” and keeping in time as a band is definitely more important than showing off chops. Feel free to show off during the gig itself, but keep it safe and simple for the auditions.

After you finish the 3 songs, Jason or Victor will ask your band to play a birthday song, so it’d be good to plan a chord chart in advance. Don’t let the birthday song be a chop-fest song because, always remember that you’re playing at an ICE CREAM PARLOUR you’re catering to the public. The public’s more interested in how your vocalist sings the song and how your guitarist/s pull/s off the solos in the song rather than how fast you can pull off a quintuplet-roll using traditional grip while spinning your right stick around and double-pedalling using heel-toe method. Nobody gives a shit unless you’re doing a drum solo.

Again, I implore all you drummers who’re reading my blog because you’re interested in auditioning for BNJ. Please don’t throw the face of drummers around and please keep a steady tempo. Groove, keep time, and show off the chops if you can. But if you can’t (or don’t have the confidence to show off your chops), just keep a groovy beat and KEEP TIME. People will respect you for what you play as long as you deliver it with confidence.

All the best to all budding musicians/bands.

Good night work tomorrow knn.

Limpeh says

when ride is nigh, allies abound.

but when wheels are none, friends are few.

Stuff to get

Fuck lot of stuff to get, esp hardcases after my softcases died on me.

1. Cymbal hardcase by SKB – $180
2. Snare hardcase by Ritter – $80
3. 20″ Sabian AA/HH Rock ride or zildjian A rock ride
4. 10″ sabian HHX splash
5. 16″ sabian AAXplosion crash
6. 18″ sabian AAXplosion crash
7. Tama Iron Cobra double pedals
8. Pearl 14×5.5 sensitone snare
9. Pearl 14×5.5 ultracast snare

I need to work like a fucking DOG man.

Persevere

6 days without a smoke.

I will perservere.

I will kick it.

I passed!

I PASSED WITH 8 PTS.

HUAT AH BRING OUT THE BOOZE HUAT AH.

oops so solly no dlinking and dliving plz.

PSA: HEY KIDS DON’T DRINK AND DRIVE, SMOKE WEED AND FLY

Of Thai ghost shows

The funny thing about us human beings is the fact that we love to scare ourselves silly, but we can’t bear to watch scary scenes in scary shows aka Colic.

As I type this entry, I’m clutching my pillow and hiding behind it every 10-20 seconds because Colic is so motherfucking kanpua silang scary.

To make things worse its in Thai.

So they talk and scream in Thai.

And they have babies in the show.

And they have baby hantus.

What’s it about Thai ghost shows that are so scary?!

HELP PLS.

Inked

Knn I was watching Miaminked (or was it Miamink?) just now and I’m damn fucking gian to get a tattoo on my body soon.

This coming from the guy who’s deathly afraid of injections and blood tests =/

PDU

I swear, Starhub Maxonline’s 6500 plan feels just slightly faster than Singtel dialup 56.6k. The only plus point is the fact that its unlimited and constantly online, or until they decide to disconnect you for no fucking reason.

Starhub seriously should get its act together because they are possibly losing all their customers to other more competitive providers who actually do provide quality service and technical support, as compared to starhub and their fucking under-qualified technical support staff who tried to smoke me into believing him that my connection was slow because:

1. I was behind a router – until I told him that I connected the modem directly to my laptop
2. I was using a Mac – until I pointed out to him that it isn’t OS-based, and that MOL was Mac compliant
3. I was using Winxp SP2 on my desktop, which has a lot of “bugs” – until I told him that my brother was using SP1 and had the same problem
4. I was using an old modem (SB4100) – until I told him that I had signed up since 1999 and haven’t received a new modem since
5. My modem was faulty – until I told him that it was 5 yrs old

TO WHICH THE FUCKING INDIAN CHEEBYE TECH SUPPORT MOFUGGER TOLD ME THAT I HAD TO REPLACE THE MOFUGGING MODEM AT $99.50 BECAUSE I’M RESPONSIBLE FOR DAMAGING MY MOFUGGING 5 YR OLD MODEM. MOFUGGING TECH SUPPORT CLOWN PROCEEDED TO TELL ME ONE HELLUVA STORY OF HOW I COULD USE STARHUB REWARDS POINTS TO REDEEM A MODEM.

Me: Okay. So how do I use this rewards points shit? (yes I did say shit, along with stuff like don’t fucking smoke me pls and don’t talk cock)

Him: Ah you can use the points to redeem the modem, or do a half redemption, must top up $40 la.

Me: Okay. How many points do I have?

Him: *checks* Sorry sir you only have 2.6k points. You need 3.3k to redeem a modem, and 3k to do a half redemption.

Me: Eh I sign up since 1999, you sure I only got 2.6k points?

Him: Yes sir, the points will expire.

Me: CHEEBYE AND U ALL NEVER TELL ME? DAMN SMART RIGHT. AIYAH FUCK LAR I WANT TO TERMINATE NOW.

Him: Solly sir, you are still under contract.

Chao cheebye puboh turban huan nah pua bye kia speaking to me in that lantiu cheehong silang huan nah accent in this fucking irritating guailan voice that really made me fucking steam and dulan to the extent that I wanted to go fucking find some malay bomoh to cast 1x fucking hohseh black magic (haha punpun) on the mofugger to just give him 1x hohseh pls.

So now, I’m under contract to some shitty provider, with a semi-faulty modem on my fucking hands. No Singtel MIO for me, no 100kbps BT for me, and hooray for 2000ms latencies on fucking WoW.

Fuck you starhub.

Nostalgia

Nostalgia’s like emotional cancer. It hits you when you least expect it to, and it lingers in you for a while, decaying and turning your emotions into this pile of unrecognisable mush.

For one reason or another, Jason Wade’s rendition of You Belong To Me has been on loop on my iTunes since last night, and it has been the only song on my ipod playlist to and fro camp.

For one reason or another, everytime the song starts I get this sudden nostalgia attack and my mind starts to drift off back to my JC days.

And for some reason or another, I look back and wonder what possessed me to do what I did back then.

But nostalgic emo posts aside, the band’s playing at Ben and Jerry’s Cathay on the 15th Feb 2007 at 8pm. A few of the songs we’ll be playing are:
1. Jimmy Eat World – The Middle
2. Hinder – Lips of an angel
3. Lifehouse – Blind

And once again, the band (shakenotstirred) is made up of:
1. Rhythm guitar/Vocals – Peh
2. Lead guitar – Ivan
3. Bass guitar – Yu Hui
4. Keyboards – Charlotte
5. Drums – Me

Apple (Not so)Power(ful) Book G4

My dearest apple powerbook g4. You have led me thru the Valley of Shadows, led me from thru The Barrens, into Crossroads, to Orgrimmar and into Ferelas. You have brought me to exotic places like Stranglethorn Vale and into the Badlands. But tonight, you chose to abandon me and just give up. You chose to die on me. You chose to give me that sickening grinding noise, show me those red words that spelt “FAILED” and chose not to fight the good fight.

You disgust me. You fill me with anger – anger towards you lack of a fighting spirit. Anger towards your abject lack of willpower and determination.

You make me sick. Sick at the fact that you couldn’t tap into your reserve energy, to propel yourself just abit more, and to make yourself a better er… laptop.

You gave up. You threw in the towel. You let me down.

p/s: I wonder when Apple’s gonna change my harddrive for me. They’d better do it fast, WoW sure lags like hell on my desktop.

Mc Huat Ah!

Couple of days ago, I met Fysh at Lot1’s Mac Donalds for either lunch or dinner or both at the same time. I couldn’t really be sure, cuz the minute i stepped near Mac Donalds, my attention was literally owned by the huge sign hanging outside Mac Donalds, promoting their Mc Huat Ah! burger.

You know, that little advertisement with 2 satanic little kids trying to keep awake (and failing miserably) to help their parents “shou ye” on Lunar New Year’s Eve, and their grateful parents grudgingly ordering 2 Mac Donald’s burgers to reward them? And that stupid little cliched line that goes (in Mandrin), “Because you’re helping your parents “shou ye” and wishing us longevity, you parents have thus decided to reward you little twits with ever-lasting wealth, but because we’re too poor to buy you diamonds, stocks or bonds, we’ve bought you Mc Huat Ah! burger. Here’s wishing you many huat years ahead!”

Yeah anyway to cut the long story short, I ordered a Mc Huat Ah! burger, chicken because we all know that chicken’s healthy and beef gives you Mc Cow Disease. (Harhar.) Fysh took the beef, because he thinks he’s healthy and fit because he shot a few hoopz at the basketball court.

I took a bite of my Mc Huat Ah! (chicken) and literally spat it out because it was bland. You know when people talk about eating snakes? “It tastes like chicken – tasteless.” Fuck yeah, it was tasteless with immense amounts of black pepper sauce.

It was a very anti-huat night for me. Unlike today, where its quite huat, because I ordered a Mc Huat Ah! burger in beef, risking the Mc Cow Disease and all that fuck jazz, and yes I have to agree, Mc Huat Burger in Beef is very Mc Huat and Mc Nice indeed. Mc Props to McDs for giving us such a Mc Huat burger to make our Lunar McNew Year so Mc Huat Ah!

Of blood tests

14 days to ORD, and I happened to go for my ORD FFI physical checkup today, and boy did I have a big shock when I saw the syringe.

For some reason, I could see the hole on the tip of the needle.

For another reason, I was wondering if the syringe was using a yakult straw or a vitagen straw.

For the last reason, I was wondering why I could feel the needle in my vein.

For some other wierd unknown reason, I was wondering why the vein was bleeding AFTER the medic drew the needle out.

Garh. Ouch, this is reason #1203954873 why I really fucking hate needles.

Of failing power books

Today, I checked the Disc Utility panel of my Apple Powerbook G4.

Today, I saw a red word next to STATUS.

Today, I saw the words “S.M.A.R.T Status: FAILING”

Today, I realised that my laptop is quite fucked.

Today, I realised that I don’t know where the warranty card for my laptop is, or when it expires.

Today, I realised that I might have to change my laptop’s harddisk.

Today, I fucking pray that my laptop is still under warranty or I’m so fucked.

Backpacking

Read Huiwen’s blog and I’m inspired by her photos to start saving and working my ass off in uni to get enough money to go backpacking in the states in 2009! That’d be a great addition to my measly photography portfolio… viagra falls and all. Whoo.

Ok back to WoW first.

P/S: If you’re rich and wanna donate some money to me, please send money to the “Alvyn’s Backpacking Fund” at 126-86682-8 POSB Savings. I’ll do anything to help you advertise your name IF you send me money to send me to the states for my backpacking trip in 2009, with photos as proof! (Anything legal of course)

Through the fire and the flames

To quote Fysh, “when u’re in deep shit, think of 2-3 people u’d go to and who’ll help you.”

Yeah I’ve got my fair share of friends who won’t do things behind me, against me or basically put up a false front. You may not think that its a serious matter, or that I’m overreacting. But let’s just say that to me, it’s serious enough to spoil my mood for the past couple of days. You may think that its trivial and that I’ll probably simmer down and think rationally, but I am thinking rationally. I haven’t thought anything in my life through with such rationality before, and I’ve never weighed my friends and asked myself what I want in a friend I can count and depend on. Perhaps you might have been someone I could have counted on and depended on, but then again, I did say could, didn’t I?

Well, I’ve made my point crystal clear and I stand by everything I say. Rebutt all you want and scoff at whatever I’ve told you to “justify” my points (why justify? I don’t owe anybody anything do I?), but ultimately think through it and tell me if it makes sense.

And to Fysh, yeah, bros 4 lyfe nigga.

Of friendship and character.

I’m not angry. Annoyed and pissed off, maybe. But definitely not angry. What’s there to be angry about? When things don’t work out the way you’d expected it to, just dump it in favour of something else that may work in your favour.

Why call each other “bro” when its superficial? Is it really that cool to be associated with the people you hang out with? Does hanging out with each other for a long time naturally make us blood brothers? The answer’s no. I don’t call Fysh “bro” when I meet him, and neither does he. We don’t even bother saying anything like that because we’ve known each other for over 6 years, and I dare say I know his character as well as he knows mine. We don’t hide anything from each other, and we sure as hell don’t try to keep each other in the fucking dark over anything.

You called it a friendship. I call it a sham.

You called me your brother, I call it bullshit.

If the price to find out a person’s character’s the friendship itself, then this was a really good deal, and I’m glad to say that this is one transaction that went down in my favour.

End.

Fuck.

Fuck all the “bro” bullshit and nonsense man. I have a thing against superficiality and this thing against doing things behind your “bro”’s own fucking back.

HIP-HOO-FUCKING-RAY.

Bros talk about yi qi. Fucking integrity. Not being someone in front of your fucking “bro” and being a different fucking person behind your “bro”’s back. If you fucking read this, good, then correct me if I’m wrong. If you don’t read this, your loss, it doesn’t matter to me either way. But hey, if you read this, your friends read this, whoever the fuck reads this, remember one thing – the old Alvyn’s suppressed, but hasn’t disappeared. Choose your battles wisely and pick the person you wanna fuck around with wisely.

I can’t promise you anything, but I can gurantee you a really good time if you wanna carry on letting me act the fool.

Of love and betrayal

There is no such thing as true love in the world, or for that matter, anywhere else. You’ll find thousands of people who propogate the fact that, “True love is when two people fall in love because they both fell in love with each other’s heart!” or some similarly nonsensically worded bullshit. Well fuck that, Uncle Alvyn says that true love exists because people just need a legitimate reason to justify how they fell in love, when it all started out from lust.

A cynic I may be, but the fucking truth, I do speak. How many people can touch their hearts, honestly, and say that they don’t care if said person doesn’t own a nice car, doesn’t have immense amounts of money, and doesn’t have lots of free time? Nobody can say that. How many people can honestly touch their hearts and say, “Hey I fell for this person because he was nice to me and really cared for me. Though he isn’t good looking, doesn’t have a nice ride and doesn’t compare up to a lot of people in terms of monetary abilities, I still love him because he has done so much for me and looked out for me for so long!” Nah. In my humble fucking opinion, none. True, along the way, such excuses and reasoning’ll probably pop up and become part and parcel of the reason for a relationship. But limpeh ka li kong, its all a bunch of bullshit excuses.

Somewhere along the line, love became measured in the ability to provide. Not just love, TLC and a listening ear or a shoulder to cry on. Love has evolved (in a really fucked up way if I may add) into the ability to provide material comfort, convenience, and most importantly, a sign of status. It never ceases to piss me off when I hear girls talk about how they aspire to be rich tai tais, and live off their husbands riches. If feminism exists, and womans’ rights exists, then I guess some females shouldn’t be protected under it. Why the fuck should there even be gender equality, if all a few females wanna do is just live off the husband? Why don’t we just classify them as the “weaker sex”, abolish all charters and acts protecting them, and just protect guys, since guys’ll be the ones working and slogging so that their wives/girlfriends can live off them? Good fucking idea, no?

This maybe insulting to some, it may piss some off, it may even make some people post fucking stupid comments about how myopic I am, but hey, with one finger, I say, FUCK THAT.

Ben’ll probably not be reading my blog, but Fysh’ll probably read it. And I’m not trying to drag up old stuff, but hey, if either of you guys are reading it, I can truly say that I know how Ben felt back then, and hey dude, I’m really sorry. Karma works both ways I guess, and karma doesn’t give a fuck who you are.

A rainy day song

I used to love rainy days. Thunder, lightning, howling winds and torrential rainfall – I loved em’ all. I still do love rainy days, I still love listening to the wind howl and the raindrops beat out their unique little rhythm on the windows. Only problem is that my ankle’ll hurt like a bitch, so I gotta throw a blanket over it.

=/

Now playing:
Goo Goo Dolls – I’ll be

Of honouring one’s word

Call it being a victim of circumstances, but I seriously doubt that it’s a good enough reason to pull out of any arrangement made with friends, family or anybody else. It doesn’t only ruin the plans made by others, but it also puts one into a particularly foul mood, with feelings of annoyance awash.

SCV

Touted as Singapore’s fastest broadband supplier when it first launched, SCV was supposed to bring Internet Surfing to a whole new level of dizzyingly fast speeds, blazing fast downloads and lagless online gaming. All was well in the beginning when it was still under trial, I clocked upload/download speeds of 500-600kbps, and that’s not BITS per second, that’s BYTES per second. And then they corporatized and launched the commercial version of SCV Maxonline with varying speeds. I signed up with Maxonline 3200, which was supposed to be more than enough for just normal internet surfing, blogging, and online gaming.

What I do not comprehend is why I’m facing frequent and consistent disconnects via the modem, each little tantrum lasting anything from 5 seconds to 5 hours. At the same time, if I’m lucky enough not to disconnect, I’ll clock 1500+ms latency (that’s a 1500 milisecond, 1.5 second LAG time) on an Australian server, while my peers on Singnet broadband are clocking 200-300+ ms.

Singapore’s broadband isn’t all that bad, just capped, restricted, buggy and laggy. But SCV really takes the cake this time around, because coupled with their really fucked up connection and speed, they’re got a bunch of fucked up customer service technicians who thought of me as a computer nub and tried to smoke me that it was probably my internet connection settings that was disconnecting the modem (read: shennanigans), then tried to smoke me that I probably spoilt my modem thus resulting in wonky connections.

Sigh excellent service and support SCV. I

Of looking backwards

More often than not, we tend to do things without thinking of the outcome, without thinking of the consequences and whether we were prepared to face up to the results of our actions. As such, we tend to look back and wonder what the outcome would have been if we’d taken a different approach, or wonder what possessed us to make such a move in the first place.

But I say, get something done and don’t look back. There’s not point regretting what you’ve done, there’s no way to undo what you’ve done except to move on and salvage whatever can be saved.

p/s: Eh all you naohiah kias consperm will think that I did something bad lor I tell you ok, NO I neh do anything naughty or bad fuck you all ok if you message me on msn or leave a comment like “ZOMG WHAT DID JOO DO” i swear I’ll bitch slap your balls so hard they’ll carrom into your anus and out of your throats. :@

I’ll be

It’s probably just the fact that I’m doing duty on a weekend for two consecutive days, or the fact that I’m on duty the day before Christmas that’s making me emo. Or it could be something else. Don’t know, don’t wanna know, don’t wish to find out either. To hell with the festive season, things don’t feel so fucking Chrismasy this year. There’s no festive cheer, no fucking anticipation, no eager waiting for Christmas to come. There’s nothing merry about christmas this year.

Shrugs. No updates for the next 2 days, and you probably won’t see me online because I’m in camp right now. Yeah, fuck this emotive bullshit phase nonsense.

Tell me that we belong together
Dress it up with the trappings of love
I’ll be captivated,
I’ll hang from your lips
Instead of the gallows
Of heartache that hang from above

I’ll be your crying shoulder, whoever you are.

Of WoW and aching knees/ankles

Ok so, I got my hands on a copy of WoW, and I’m sorry to say I’m hooked onto it. It’s damn addictive and in a way, entertaining and fun because I have absolutely nothing to do now that I’m clearing leave, save for mambo-ing, drinking, smoking and sleeping. Ah well, life’s such a mysetery at times.

One a more random note, I love the rainy weather. All you haters should just get soaked by the rain and struck by lightning! This is by far the best weather EVER. Alone in your room with nice music, a cup of hot coffee, a pack of nice ciggys and WoW (or whatever form of entertainment you choose) is the best thing to do on a rainy, stormy, thundery and cold day. Sigh if only the weather was like this daily.

Only problem I’m facing now’s the fact that my left kneecap and my left ankle, yes the ankle with the fucked up torn ligament in it, are hurting like two whiny bitches every night when the weather gets cold. I stand up after playing WoW, and my knee cap cracks and hurts like a bitch. I sit down after a while and bending down hurts too. I walk to to kitchen for a drink, or to the window for a smoke and my left ankle hurts. Goddamn PAIN is driving me insane mofuggers.

Aughh.

Good lord I’m ranting I don’t even know wtf I typed for the last 2-3 minutes AHAHAHA I FUCKING OWN.

/spit

/sleep

The joys of being a Singaporean

The joys of being a singaporean. First you are told not to complain that much simply because tourists from other countries would brand us a nation of people who love complaining. Now we’re given an outlet to literally, spam our complains.

Being the typical Singaporeans we are, we complain about every single motherfucking issue under the sun, ranging from how people jaywalk to how people study in libraries using chairs, even to how people can bring RC helicoptors on board MRTs.

Stomp.com.sg has quickly evolved into a place where the typical holier-than-thou person checks regularly to post scathing and “constructive” comments towards how we should or should not be doing things. For example, http://singaporeseen.stomp.com.sg/viewPost323.aspx. I wonder how many times I’ve seen kids, adults and senior citizens alike, using the cushions at CCK library to sleep, running around the library, or sleeping at the table designated for reading. The fucking irony is that nobody actually bothered to complain about that, yet when students are studying, they bitch whine and moan. Eh wake up your idea lar.

At the same time, its for myopic and sexist clowns to post photos of commuters not giving up their seats to the “needy” on the MRTs. http://singaporeseen.stomp.com.sg/viewPost660.aspx
This, for instance. Gallant men, give up your seats? How about, give up your seat to creature of the same gender, my fair lady seated on the left of the 3 gallant men. How’d you feel if you just had CCA training, or work, and you fall asleep on the train, only to have some trigger happy son (or daughter) of a bitch snap your photo and put it online for the world to condemn? Eh fuck lar, learn some common sense lar naohiah.

Wow this is the best of the best! http://singaporeseen.stomp.com.sg/viewPost852.aspx Eh fuck you lar holier-than-thou non smokers. Just because the gahmen set up “smoking” and “non-smoking” zones in coffee shops and hawker centers, doesn’t mean that we can’t smoke anywhere we like ok. True, its against the law, but then let me introduce you to a new law ok? Do whatever the fuck you want, but don’t get caught. So let the man enjoy his cigerette in peace and go take photos of your own hairy ass crack or whatever pleases you ok. By exclaiming loudly when the smoker spat on the ground, our wonderful Singaporean only demonstrated how much of a coward she is, by failing to confront the smoker about his allegedly disgusting act. If you “exclaimed” loudly when I spat on the ground, I’d probably turn around and ask you, “Want a closer look?” before spitting into your face.

The absolute joys of being a Singaporean. I’m just waiting for the day to come when some fucking free fuck decides to snap a photo of me in long 4 walking home with fuckers complaining about “WHY MY SON IN BMT MUST WEAR SMART 4 HE CAN WEAR LONG 4 NO NEED TO WEAR JOCKEY CAP HAIR CAN SO LONG ONE HUH?” nabei I tell you if limpeh kena that limpeh will buy 4D. 200 big 200 small. No need to wait sia. Sure strike 1st prize.

Untitled

When I was just a chao recruit,
I asked my sergeant, what will I be?
Will I be PC? Will I be 3SG?
Here’s what he said to me.

Lancheow you, recruit,
Whatever will be will be,
This is not your dad’s army,
So knock it down twenty

On a more serious note, Walas is amazing because the drummer is amazing. Why is he amazing? Because he’s fat and he lays down a fat solid groove, so there. So now I’m just waiting for the day they give me the green light to lay down fat funky grooves ala mini-solos in the middle of the song. Then I’ll be a sticky drummer. Get it? Stick? Sticky? Hah hah. I’m so fucking funny someone please give me a cookie (spelt MARLBORO for you noobs out there.)

On a even more serious note, I really don’t like it when people close to you do things behind your back. Don’t get me wrong, they’re not doing things to you behind your back, but planning things, doing things behind your back and hoping that you don’t find out for some wierd reason or another. It’s probably karma, seeing how the exact same situation played itself out back in 2004. Different parties, same situation. Same same but different.

Sometimes I wonder how I’m ever going to quit smoking if all I do when I’m down and emo is to face the window, pick up a stick and light up. In a twisted way, it actually makes me feel better knowing that I’m fucking my own lungs up. In a really morbid way, of course.

I’m probably ranting in this post, I can’t really see any semblence of a structure in my post, but hey who’s complaining, and most importantly, who’s blog is it anyway?

I really really have this thing against girls who live their sad little lives wishing and hoping to hook up with a rich guy who’ll (hopefully) shower her with lavish gifts and presents, cover her allowance when she goes shopping, and oh yes, fuck her brains out while he’s at it. I don’t know if its the cynical bastard in me or the middle-income-group-fella in me speaking, but I don’t only have a thing against girls (NO PUN INTENDED) who’s life ambitions are to become tai tais, but I really fucking detest and loathe them. I may put on this facade of false humour, false concern and fucking false everything else because I don’t see why I should be a mean fucker just because her twisted thinking’s way different from mine, but don’t take me at face value – I really, really cannot stand it. I’m sorry, let me rephrase that, I think it’s morally fucked up to have that kind of thinking, and its plain superficial and shallow. It reflects on how “intellectual” you are.

Sometimes I wonder if they’re just trying to prove a point, like I’m a female I lack a male reproductive organ, thus I can use my sexuality to hook guys who’re rich but can’t land a proper chick, get fucked by them, fake an orgasm, and then drain them off their money.

Wake up.

Of emo songs

I happened to chance upon a very unsavoury cd lying around on my desktop, so I took it and ripped it into mp3 format. And now, for some wierd reason that I can’t comprehend, it’s in a playlist on BOTH my ipod and my laptop.

For somereason, rock and metal makes me want to head bang, rock and top40s are my forte behind the kit, yet its chinese POP and english POP songs that I dig sometimes when I’m listening to my ipod on a long bus/train ride, or just in bunk listening to music before I fall asleep. For some odd reason, I get bored of blazing fast speed metal, and I get sick of death metal after like 10 songs, yet I can listen to chinese/english pop over and over again.

Wierd.

窗外细雨绵绵
你捧着我的脸
轻轻说了再见
你说我不可以掉眼泪
你要记住我最美的笑脸
但我却在你转身的瞬间
看见了你红了双眼
我爱你
我真的想永远好好爱你
是我叛逆善变又任性
一次一次伤透你的心
我好想你
我真的想你快不能呼吸
我要告诉你
对不起我爱你
记得那时候
我真的不懂事
你越温柔越包容
我越放肆
原来幸福就是这样子
我是孩子你是我的天使
现在多想我在你的怀里
这一辈子永不分离
我爱你
我真的想永远好好爱你
是我叛逆善变又任性
一次一次伤透你的心
我好想你
我真的想你快不能呼吸
我要告诉你
对不起我爱你
我好爱你
我真的想永远好好爱你
没有你的手给我温暖
我的世界冰冷黑暗
我好想你
我真的想你快不能呼吸
我要告诉你
对不起我爱你
我要告诉你
对不起我爱你

Of stupid neighbours and talentless kids

It’s amazing how every parent thinks that their kid is by far, the smartest and most talented kid around, and sends them for every single lesson available – piano, speech and drama, swimmming lessons, etc. To make things worse, they make their kid practice scales, arpeggios and every single fuckshit piano piece they can lay their grubby paws on, at night.

They smirk, because they think their kid’s the future Beethoven. But I say, Beethoven was deaf, would you like me to make your kiddo deaf too?

They smirk, because they think their kid’s the future Mozart. But Mozart’s dead, would you like me to kill your kiddo too?

They think that their kid’s playing sounds like an orchestra piece, and that its performance worthy, thus they deem it fit to torture my ears nightly by letting IT practice. I say, your kid’s playing’s suitable for those Chinese Funeral Bands, and I think that my dog can play a better piece than your kid can.

Then they complain that my drumming’s too loud, at 2pm in the afternoon. I say, your kid’s playing sounds like crap, either at 2pm or at 10pm at night, and my drumming owns your kid’s playing so bad, it makes Baby Jesus cry.

Its also amazing how some people can complain about “noise level being too high”, when they move furniture, play music and quarrel late at night. For some reason, it never ceases to amaze me, they’re affected by noise at 2pm in the afternoon, yet they’re not affected by their own noise at 10pm at night. Probably some defect in their genes, or flaw in their gene pool.

Fucking morons.

Of emo rants and mindless raves.

I fail to comprehend why the government has to enlist strapping young males, who’re entering the prime years of their lives, into the army. Sure, the romantism of the armed forces will always appeal to the young males, especially the alpha males who value the chance to “lead” in the army. The idealism of donning the green camoflage uniform, the various coloured berets, shrugging on the green webbing, lifting up the oily rifle to defend and protect the country that birthed you. The country that you call home.

I fail to comprehend, then, the chasm that exists between the various arms of the armed forces, from the air to the sea, and finally to the land-based troops. Why’s there this divide between an Air Force specialist and an Army Specialist? What can they do that we as land-crawlers cannot do? Do we not train as hard, if not harder than they do? Do we not shed less tears and blood than them whilst in training? Do we not have what it takes to do our job as well as they can do theirs?

I fail to understand, then, the abyss that exists between the different Defence Forces, from the Men in Blue, to the fire fighters, and finally to the fools in green who suffer in silence, only to suffer extra confinement. Why is there a difference in the pay between a police corporal, and an army corporal? Why is there inequality between the fire fighter and the soldier? Are we unable to defend the country as well as the fire fighter and put out a blaze? Are we unable to bear arms the way a policeman bears his service revolver against armed robbers and criminals? Are we, as soldiers of the Motherland, unable to perform our duties that we have given 2 years of our lives to train for?

I fail to see eye to eye with regulars in the armed forces as well. Does signing a piece of paper, signing your life away for 10 years, give you more right, more power and more freedom as compared to us enlistees? Does it mean that we as enlistees aren’t capable of doing our jobs as well as you can perform yours, if not better? Does it mean that we as enlistees aren’t meant to be treated as human beings? Does it mean that you as a regular (idiot), who signed your life away, are bullet proof and invincible in times of war? Without enlistees, would there be a People’s Army? Would there be an SAF to defend the country that throws, unceremoniously, the responsibility of mantaining national security into the laps of 18-20 year olds with lesser benefits than their compatriots who’re busy mantaining social and civil security?

Well, you may have won this round and I may have lost. But bear in mind that in 42 more work days, I will be collecting my Pink IC and abandoning my rank. I’ll embrace my freedom with arms wide open while you continue to embrace your days with empty thoughts of promotions that’ll never come, of rank increaments that will probably never increase.

Bear in mind that in 42 more work days, you will be addressing me as Mister, and I’ll be calling you by your name.

Bear that in mind when you see me around, because I am no longer a lower life form compared to you. On the contrary, you’re shit compared to me because you’re a serviceman, and because I’m a civilian. Because I only wasted 2 years of my life in the army, whilst you’ve wasted close to 6 years.

Because at the end of the day, bear in mind that I’m still more successful than you’ll ever be. Because no matter what you do now, you’ll never catch up. So hey, here’s advice for you, extend your contract and continue protecting me. I might even give you a cookie when I’m done eating.

Of responsibility.

I fucking cannot take it when people can’t be responsible. I hate it even more when people appear to be superbly responsible and on-the-ball for matters pertaining to them, or concerning their potential well-being, yet flippantly casual towards things that involve them, yet does not affect them. I find this kind of behaviour fucking disgusting and selfish. It doesn’t matter who you are, or how highly you’re educated. It doesn’t even matter if you’re good both academically and physically, because in my eyes, you are nothing but a selfish piece of fuck shit, you’re just a little better than scum. Thank God I’ve got a blog for me to rant it all out, or I’ll probably go all antagonistic (as Charlotte likes to put it) and start a fight with you because I don’t like who you are. (And no, charlotte this isn’t about you don’t worry)

If you can’t be bothered to remember trivial (in your opinion) matters, then please, refresh your memory and recall why there is a need for this trivial matter to be settled in the first place.

If you don’t think that such a trivial matter is worth your time, then why bother giving yourself so much stress and workload? Because now, let limpeh tell you something interesting – you will not succeed simply because you can’t be half-arsed to put in your 101% for something that YOU feel isn’t important. It’s not how you handle and manage big things that matter. It’s how you discipline yourself to handle insignificant matters that define how good a leader, or a person you are.

In this case, you’ve failed.

Miserfuckingrably.

Of purchases and of integrity.

I traded my 18″ medium crash for a 15″ K dark thin crash, and I realised that it was literally, the trade of the century. I had the better deal, or so I thought, until my phone rang this afternoon while I was in office, and the fellow who happily dealt his crash away to me, asked me to return it to him. I told him no, beceause a deal’s a deal, and I don’t do refunds or exchanges. He didn’t reply me after that.

Luckily for him, he didn’t reply me, or I would have spammed his motherfucking phone with my 1001 uber l33t fucking kanpua silan horrigible messages to make him 01 x fucking pissed off, but impotent to do anything because he only has my handphone number.

Which brings me to point 1. What’s the deal (lol pun) with fuckers who go back on deals that they’ve agreed on? I’ve said it more than once, if you can’t afford it, don’t offer any price, and don’t bargain the price down. Save up until you can get it. Why are people just so fucking stupid?

And now onto point 2. The band made it through the oh-so-fucking-vigorous BNJ auditions and we’re waiting for Jason to schedule us to play. If any of my dear wonderfully wonderful and loyal readers out there have any song suggestions to make, drop it in the comments section! But please do not that due to the nature of the place, I will definitely not play fucking Avenged Fucking Sevenfold or Iron Fucking Maiden and get myself thrown out of the entire complex itself. Top40s and rock would be nice. Have fun!

Last but not least, 52 work days to ORD and counting down before I say goodbye to this puabye army. PUI.

Of musicianship #2.

I’m going to bitch about something that has been on my mind for a very, very long time.

It started off with deals on a certain musical website. What pissed me off was the fact that wannabe musicians would be trying to sell off low-end cymbals with comments and phrases such as “Cutting sound, suitable for rock and metal!” or “Dark, washy tone”, along with a hefty price tag. The fact that morons like them were doing stupid things like trying to overprice their beginner cymbals pissed me off so badly that I refused to sell anything there for a period of time.

When I started selling/buying my cymbals/snare/pedal/hardware on the same website some time later, I faced another breed of losers. The kind who offer you ridiculously low prices for your item, citing various reasons ranging from, “I’m a student, thus my budget is very low” to “This cymbal is very old, its not worth the amount you want.” Firstly, I’d like to say that if you do not have a budget, either take a loan, or contact the person and ask if he/she can hold it for you while you raise the amount, like one off my buyers who actually confirmed his deal with me. I held on to his hats, and he told me that he’d be able to deal with me in 2 weeks time. I agreed to it because it’s a win-win situation. I get a buyer, he gets what he wants. If you are unable to raise the money to buy your equipment, then I suggest you start to learn how to save, because not having the money is not a valid reason for sellers like me to lower the fucking price to accommodate you. Either you accomadate my price, or you fuck off. As for the condition of the cymbals, I do believe that I’ve done enough research, and have been drumming long enough to know the value of individual cymbal that I possess. Certain cymbals maybe old, but lines like avedis increase in value over the years, provided there’re no cracks or dents in them. If you can’t appreciate this simple fact, then you don’t deserve to own an avedis cymbal. Similarly, you can fuck off.

After that, I realised that most people were going goo-goo-ga-ga over kids in tapered jeans with eyeliners playing really, really loudly, and trying to go really, really fast, with no chops and no licks to showcase. At the same time, the play as if the drumset pissed them offf and they were trying to kill it – no technique, no groove, and most importantly no feel. But that isn’t what pissed me off. The fact that idiots can come up to me and ask me why I don’t pull off insanely fast rapid fire rolls over my drumset, really make me want to tell them that, “If I rolled any faster and played any louder, you’d all die because I’m that good.” And then stab them with my drumsticks.

Apart from playing and chops, the attitude of musicians nowadays have also been on the decline. I’ve spoken to quite a number of musicians, ranging from drummers like myself to keyboardists, to guitarists. Most of the mature ones are really outstanding and committed, and I salute them. However, there’re always the few immature musicians who literally “worship” the ground their “idols” walk on. Their idols being other musician who appear to more pro than them. And how do they judge the musician? By how fancy his/her playing is, how loud and fast their playing is. Hello boys and girls, wake up your fucking idea. Music is not about speed. I don’t like doing rapid fire straight 16 or 32nds fill ins because I don’t think its nice. I’d prefer to play with dynamics, triplets and paradiddles around the kit. I like to play with ghost notes and buzz rolls. If you can’t handle me playing with the groove I have, kindly fuck of and do not tell me to “do a very fast roll around the drumset man!” Because I will stab you with my drumsticks and impale you on my cymbal stand as a warning to everyone else.

Last but not least, I cannot stand musicians with no discipline and no sense of commitment. Being a musician is what it is – fun and joy… When you’re jamming and gigging. Why? Because that’s when you bust out your chops, your grooves, and show everyone what you’ve been practicing so long for. But when you’re practicing and rehearsing, it isn’t all fun and games. Its about hours of sitting in front of a hard rubber pad practicing rudiments to a metronome. It’s about listening to the same songs over and over again, trying to figure out what kind of a fill in you could play to make it sound a bit different and a bit nicer, and for originals, what you could play to either spice up the particular part, or make your lead guitarist sound good. It’s about knowing what to play, how to play, when to play. It’s about having the discipline to practice, and the committment to do it well. It’s about having the self-discipline to manage your time, to juggle between school, work, friends, band and practice itself.

Being a musician doesn’t mean you pick up a guitar, a bass guitar, a pair of drumsticks, and randomly shred/roll about on the kit. It’s not about wanting to destroy stuff, playing loudly or playing as quickly as you can. It’s about practice, practice, and more practice.

Being a musician isn’t about having the stage to yourself. It’s about sharing the stage with your bandmates, making them sound good, and ultimately making the band sound tight, and rock the house down.

Endth.

NABEI CHARLOTTE SAYS IM RUDE

Nabei limpeh tiaos you. Charlotte said I’m rude. Still dare to TSK TSK LIM PEH.

NI NABEI I TELL U. LIMPEH IS NOT RUDE OK. Limpeh is the most polite motherfucking person around you’ve ever met. I give you example.

When I want to scold someone I say please and thank you ok.

Excuse me sir, NABEI PUA BYE YOU KANINABEH CHAOCHEEBYE YOU GO OUTSIDE HOR GAO GAN, HUM GAR CHAN, KAN BU KAN PEH. NABEI PUABYE HUMJI PUBOH KIA TIU LEI LOMO HUM GAR CHAN LAH PUI CHAO NUA KANINA. Thank you for listening to me sir. Have a nice day, good bye.

If that is not being polite, then I don’t know what the fuck is being polite lor. NABEI.

Pu boh you Charlotte for saying I’m rude pui Xiu puke on you.

Of half days and rainy days.

I’ve always wondered the rationale behind building our bunks facing an indian temple. I don’t mind the occasional bell chimings, the chantings and stuff because it IS their religion anyway. However, my logic fell to pieces two nights ago while I was happily asleep in my bunk at 11+pm. Some fucking nabei puabye decided to carry out some ceremony then, and the fucking place was SATURATED, I say again, SATURATED, with bell chimings, shoutings, more bell chimings, and 7-8 lorrys driving AROUND khatib area, with a fucking police siren blaring. Don’t ask me why the fuck they have a police siren, because I don’t know.

Initially, I thought it was a funeral procession of sorts, but I looked closely from my 6th floor window and realised to my fucking annoyance, that it was just a group of assholes trying to be funny at 11 FUCKING PM AT NIGHT WHEN I HAVE A FUCKING RUN THE NEXT MORNING AT 0630 HOURS MOTHERFUCKERS.

And what is it with stupid fucktards adding me on friendster? I’ve got assclowns who pose with fluffed up cheeks and FORCED open eyes (aka the bukkake pose), and cumstuds who take endless photos of themselves in different hairstyles or attires, and captioned it with stupid fucking English like “iSh MiE!”. Like fuck lah, am I a fucking magnet for morons? Do I look as if I belong in the same motherfucking clique as you fools? I don’t, period. Call me insensitive or elitist, but believe me I’m neither. I’m just sensible enough to know that anybody who poses like some bukkake wannabe, or tYpEs lYk DiS, are classified under section “FUCK OFF” in my little organiser/diary. So if you fit the profile of a shit-eating-bastard-child-bukkake-wannabe-ah-lian-typist, please do not add me on friendster, because I’ll simply reject you. Find yourself another cumslut to befriend and continue polluting your own fucking gene pool.

Of chapped lips.

Ok so my fucking lips are CHAPPED so badly that I can’t even stretch them, or they’ll fucking bleed AGAIN. Makes me wonder what the hell’s wrong with me. Maybe its the fucking withdrawal symptoms.

On the point of withdrawal symptoms, I am proud, or maybe not, to state that I have smoked a grand total of 2 cigerettes since this morning. And soon enough, I’ll quit. Haha…

Met the band for dinner/supper at al-azhaar just now, and just before boarding 67 with Peh, I realised that my ez-link card was flat and I had no coins on me. Doom on Alvyn time. My faith in Singaporeans was renewed, because some random old lady offered me 80 cents free, even though I offerred to changed my $2 with her. At the same time, the bus driver told me that 80 cents was enough, even though my journey to CCK interchange as an adult would have cost twice. Kudos to them, brownie points to them too. Go Singapore.

Of misspelt words and cranky counter staff.

Ok so maybe I’m blogging this (and sounding) like an angsty, crusty old man because I’ve slept for less than 16 hours in two days, and that’s not good, because I should sleep more to catch up on my lack of sleep.

I just happened to pop by a Cheers station at CCK mrt station before heading down to Clementi to meet Charlotte last night, to get myself my cigs. I stepped in, noticed that the shop was empty, and headed straight to the counter to ask for “a pack of Viceroy Lights please”. Notice I even said “Please” with a smile.

Before I go on, let me just say that when I stepped into Cheers and that irritating kaninabu chime went “DING-DONG!”, the cashier, a pimply teenage girl in specs ACTUALLY said, “GOOD EVENING!” to me. However, the moment I stepped over and asked my fags, she suddenly became a deaf, dumb and mute person. She took my ATM card, swiped it and literally threw the machine at me to key in my PIN, following which she kinda just threw my cigerettes, and card together on the counter. Me, being the nice fucker I am, said, “Thanks” and walked away.

Kaninah she didn’t even say “You’re welcomed” can. Machiam her mouth got gold, if she opens it to say anything, I’ll steal it and buy more cigerettes. Or maybe she’s just afraid that I’ll shove 10 sticks of cigs into her mouth to make her smoke it all if she opens her mouth. Nabei since when was buying and smoking cigerettes a crime?

That wasn’t the end of it. After getting what I needed and heading over to the smoking area around the mrt station to take a quick puff, I noticed this secondary school girl sitting nearby with her name tag on her school bag. I don’t know when their schools allowed them to customise their name tags, but I’m quite fucking sure that wasn’t her name.

Because it read “cHeRlYx” on it.

LIKE SIMI LANCHEOW LAR I THOUGHT NOBODY SPELT LIKE THATXX ALREADYXXX.

Which brings me onto something which I cannot grasp, no matter how hard I think, or how many cigerettes I smoke. Why do people love spelling in various wierd forms. I don’t mean spialing werds differentzly to klose frenz or sometheeng, but I mean typing like absolute fucking morons regardless of who they’re talking to.

For example, this bitch on my MSN has her nick as, “its amazing how yu can speak right t mah heart”. Perhaps her keyboard’s missing the letters “O”, seeing how she missed out “O”s from two words, and she probably has a fetish for the letters “A” and “H”, seeing how it forms the word “AH” which is probably her favourite fucking noise from her favourite fucking activity. AH. HA.

Some random fella on Friendster happened to add me, and in her profile, she states her interest as “aNyThIn tT I lYk” and under people she’d like to meet, “eUUu~!” EWW INDEED GODDAMN IT. Like what the FUCK. Are teenagers in Singapore getting dumb, dumber, dumberest? Or is the education system just FUCKED UP BEYOND ALL REPAIR (FUBAR)? Under her friends, there’re GUYS who take bukkake-angle shots of them with that puffy-cheek-eyeball-popping look that screams “CUM ON ME”, and who have captions like “iTs MiE!” or “sIdE vIeW, mE ISh lYks It a LoTz!” like simi lanjiao lah, your mother also won’t like it loh.

Sometimes I wish the grammar police existed to arrest such morons, and place them in lessons where they learn how to spell words correctly, and learn that its not good to spell like total absolute retards. They should probably write a book iN tHiSh KiNdaX lAnGuaGeX~, then force them to read it. To make the lesson more interesting, they should get retards to record an audio book, pronounced the same way its written, and then force them to listen to it for a few days. That should get rid of fuckers who sPeLl lYk dIs~ and mAkE mIe aNd eU hAppie~.

UGH.

Kaninabu.

Kaninabu I tell you. For some reason nowadays, I’ve been getting annoyed and irritated very easily, especially in the office, on the bus or while taking the MRT to camp (especially TO camp).

For example, I was on the MRT this evening coming home from camp. When I boarded the bloody packed train at Khatib station, there was this fucking kanina aunty trying to push her way out of the train. She was heavily laden with paper bags, and she was fat. Like a fucking COW. And there she was pushing and shoving her way out of the train, thus effectively blocking us from boarding the train. What pissed me off was that the fucking aunty didn’t even muster a single “Excuse me” while pushing her way out of the train. Ni nabeh, machiam we owe her money like that, mouth got gold or something. Cheebye I slap her then her mouth really got “gold”.

Then I boarded the train. It was crowded, no doubt about it, since it was time the worker bees got off from work. Then, a miracle happened, and someone stood up and got off the train at Yishun station, right in front of me. Seeing no old people around, I wanted to take the fucking seat to rest my fucking legs that were aching because of my stupid fucking run. Then this fucking aunty (AGAIN CHAO CHEEBYE), just rushed in and grabbed the seat. In the process her fucking fake LV hand bag hit me on my forearm and almost made me drop my ipod mini. Nabei lucky limpeh was in uniform. If not limpeh confirm tell her to go fuck herself and all her ancestors 1x hohseh.

I really don’t understand all those aunties. Is there like a lesson or lecture to attend when you’re 30-40 years old? “How to be a good aunty/uncle” by Profession Kan Li Zhor Gong Zhap Buay Dai, Kaobeh Kaobu University? If there is, sign me up please. I want to tell that professor to live up to his name and fuck all his ancestors for 18 generations.

Then another thing I want to kaobeh about is very serious. Why do people insist on trying to read whatever you’re reading on the MRT? Newspaper, books, SMS… they’d want to read it all. Like WHAT THE FUCK can’t you buy your own papers, read your own book, sms your own gay fuck buddy or just read my fingers? They spell FUCK YOU VERY MUCH btw. Its fucken kan pua si lang annoying when people try to read your smses when you’re typing. Probably wondering which hot chick I’m smsing right? WRONG FUCKWADS I’M SMSING MY ENCIK TELLING HIM THAT I’M ON MC.

Cheebye I swear I’ll put animal porn on my handphone one day. Then when some nosy fucktard tries to read my messages, I’ll just play the animal porn on full blast and ask him, “SONG BOH U LIKE OR NOT I CAN BLUE TOOTH TO YOU ONE LEH. OR YOU WANT THE MAN FUCK MAN TYPE HUH HUH HUH?” Kaninabu talking about it makes my blood boil. Urgh.

Anyway I’m on leave tomorrow. Thank god the fat fuck approved my leave or I’ll probably be forced to blog this shit from camp and it’ll probably be 10x angstier and more vulgar.

Na Charlotte. I blogged already. I bet you’re fucking happy right.. and you still owe me my prison break. I swear if you don’t pass it to me soon I’ll chop your toes off ala Prison Break Episode 2’s ending.

Top 10 things that irk me.

TOP 10 THINGS THAT IRK THE SHIT OUTTA ME
1. Idiots who repeatedly greet you in the morning, aka trainee style.
2. Idiots who insist on sitting within a smoking zone in a coffeeshop, then complaining about the cigerette smoke.
3. Idiots who give you dirty looks when you smoke within 10m of them.
4. Idiots who try to squeeze their way onto a crowded train or bus, then scream at the passengers when he/she fails to board.
5. Idiots who ignore your signals on the road.
6. Same bunch of idiots who ignore your signals on the road, and cut into your lane without signalling.
7. Idiots who speed up to not let you overtake them (Got prize meh?)
8. Idiots driving a zhng-ed “sporty” looking car who feel the primal urge to race a sports car with a bigger engine.
9. Idiots who think they own the MRT and nudge you ever so subtly out of the place where you were standing. Aka next to the pole.
10. Idiots (aka bangla workers/china workers) who cycle on their uber NOS supercharged bicycles in groups of 4 or more, thus taking up more than 1/4 of the lane. Fucking irritating I wish I could just put the pedal to the metal, floor the accelerator and run them down, GTA style.

Redundant National Fucking Shitfaced Waste-of-time Bullshit Cumstained Service

In my own fucking words, the SAF is the most fucked up, most can’t-cunt, bootlicking, brown-nosing, redundant, inefficient and fucking irritating organisation ever. It comprises of people who are so fucking inflexible that they make a fucking steel ruler look flexible, fucking stupid assholes who’re so stuck up their arses that they’re tickling their oesopheguses. The leaders in our wonderfully useless organisation comprises of people who willingly sold their souls to the fucking Devil himself, and thus are blind, unfeeling, and fucking indifferent to the plain, simple fact that we are fucking NSFs. NATIONALfuckingSERVICEFULLfuckingTIME. Which means we are DRAFTED into the motherfuckingtitsuckingfrenchrenegade bastard ARMY AND NOT BY OUR OWN FREE FUCKING WILL. Which means we resent our fucking duties, our fucking “committments” and the fact that we’re treated like sub-humans EVEN when compared to our compatriots in the police force or SCDF.

At the same fucking time, we’re paid measly sums of money, termed as “ALLOWANCES” and not “SALARY”, expected to do more than we’re supposed to, and be prepared to get FUCKED for every single thing that we do, even if it wasn’t our fucking fault.

In 16 fucking weeks time, I will be walking out of this fucking camp they call KHATIB CAMP : HOME OF THE FUCKING GUNNERS. In 16 weeks time I will throw my fucking SAF 11B into the fucking wastepaper bin, and I will STICK my pink IC onto my fucking forehead and walk around the whole fucking camp screaming, “ORD LOH ORD LOH!” I will call my BSM by his name and tell him, “HEY DAVID BYEBYE NOT GONNA MISS YA!”. Next month, I will be forecasting my leaves and offs all the way til I ORD. In my sekret hiding compartment in my closet, I have my very own MC forecast, which states clearly that I will be taking MCs on every single weekend or tuesday night duty I get, starting November.

To hell with this place goddamn it.

Eh siao eh.

Ever wondered what the fuck people mean when they say,

It’s better to have loved than to never love at all.

Well I’ve been doing some pondering on certain subjects pertaining to the above mentioned quote, and I’ve come to conclusion that people who tell you that the above mentioned quote makes sense are complete and absolute idiots who probably haven’t been in love before, or who think that true love comes in rectangular packages marked with words such as “XXX Cheerleaders” or from links like www.xxx-cheerleaders.com.

Personally I liken the above mentioned quote to something along the lines of,

It’s better to have had tons of money, than to not have tons of money at all

Simi lanjiao loh. Its machiam I had USD$1,000,000,000,000 to my name last year, but due to my spending on food and cigerettes and booze and drum stuff and condoms I only have like USD$10 to my name now. So I walk into a casino and the following occurs.

Me: OI SIAO LIAN EH I WANT TO PRAY BRACK JACK LEH.

Casino staff: Sorry sir, you don’t have enough money to pay for the entry to the casino.

Me: OI SIAO EH. Last year limpeh got USD$1,000,000,000 gazillion loh. Or you just lemme play credit lah. I treat you teh tarik later lar siao lian eh. Eh sai lah.

Casino staff: I’m sorry sir, but you do not have the money with you right now, and we can’t let you play on credit. I’m truly sorry sir, I’ll have to ask you to leave.

Me: EH NABEI PUA TURBAN CHEEBYE LANCHEOW MP3LJBBBQ LIMPEH KA LI KONG LAST TIME LIM PEH IS GOTS MONEY LOH. IS BETTER TO HAVE SIBEI A LOT OF MONEY LAST TIME THAN TO NOT HAVE MONEYS LOH THEN BECOME CASINO STAFF LOH SIAO EH.

Casino staff: Sorry sir, if you put it that way, then I’d say that I’d prefer my current status. -takes out $50 note- At least I still have enough money on me to call for a prostitute. I’d wager you’d have to sell your backside to raise enough money for you to take a taxi home. Have a nice day sir.

VEH SIMILAR TO LOVE RIGHT.

Aiyah but I tell you, the worst thing is not being able to do anything about the person you like/love/lust/wannafuck. So limpeh ka li gong, loving someone but not knowing if that someone feels the same towards your, OR loving someone and knowing that it probably will never work out, is the most kanpua si lang horrigible thing that can happen to you.

Of noisy shitty MAF celebrations and cigerettes

Sometimes I wonder why we have Resident Committees in our fucking estates. RCs who complain, bitch and whine when I bang away on my drumset at 2pm in the fucking afternoon, yet encourage residents to sing (out of tune, and out of time too) all the way til 11pm late at night to celebrate the Midfucking Autumn Festival. What’s so special about this day that warrants Singapore Idol wannabes to take to the “stage” and sing songs that make my hair stand on their fucking ends?

甘霖老母趕羚羊, I say, because if you can’t sing, YOU SHOULDN’T.

Noisy lousy vocals + stupid fucking haze + no cigerettes make Alvyn a very pissed off an angsty young man.

But then hor, I realised that I had a pack of half-smoked cigerettes somewhere in my bag. So I searched high and low and I found the hidden treasure.

So now, Alvyn’s a happy man. Not for long though, because stupid whiny kids are running around downstairs playing around on the stage that the fucking RC has yet to tear down.

甘霖老母趕羚羊, I say. 甘霖老母趕羚羊.

American History X

I’ve lost count of the times I’ve watched American History X. Everytime I start deleting old movies that I don’t watch anymore, I always skip past the directory marked “A”. I’ve never even remotely contemplated deleting it, because its such a powerful movie.

American History X has got to be one of the most powerful movies I’ve ever watched in my 20 years of existance. Even though there’re scores of impressionable young kids around the world who view the movie as the movie for neo-nazism and for skinheads, their very own cult movie, I still stand by the fact that it is a powerful, and an amazing movie.

Indeed, I’d admit that I downloaded the movie, back when I was a young lad, to watch the scene where Derek Vinyard curbstomped a negro who tried to steal his truck. I admit that I downloaded the movie because I felt that Derek Vinyard’s swastika tattoos were damn cool.

And now here I am, re-watching the movie again and again. Not because I feel that it’s cool to be a Neo-Nazi or a skinhead, but because I feel that the message it sends across is amazingly clear and powerful. Makes you wonder about the human psyche and how some people could be manipulated to such an extent that their thinking and their way of life revolves around a flawed idealogy. It makes you wonder how some people could be so ignorant and bring racism to such an exaggerrated level.

Of noisy kids and stupid parties

So I’m sitting in a corner (har har i can predict that mat jokes coming alr -_-) with my powerbook surfing the net on free Starnet wireless at mac donalds, Lot 1, when some mac donald’s staff comes over and tells me in this annoyingly chirpy voice, “Hi sir, there’ll be a PARTY here soon so you can’t sit here anymore! Teehee!”. Thanks to her, I had to carry my laptop and shift to another corner – this time right next to the toilet. (Though I’m not complaining cuz there’s a powerpoint here)

While I’m ranting and angsting and musing, the kids are jumping around to strains of “Happy birthday” and being oh so happy. I’m gazing wistfully at them, and wishing with a passion that they’ll grow up, and enlist into the army soon. Then they’ll realise that there’s nothing fun about birthdays after all.

Now I’m just wondering. Why the hell does mac donalds allow kids to celebrate their birthdays INSIDE the pseudo-restaurant itself? They’ve got a humongous outdoor ‘dining’ area, so why can’t the kids use it? Perhaps I should work my way to becoming the CEO of mac donalds. Or the regional manager of Mac Donalds Singapore. Then I’ll pass the ruling that states:

All pesky kids who wish to celebrate their birthdays at said restaurant shall only be allowed to occupy no more than 3 (THREE) tables, in an outdoor setting only. Kids are not allowed to run about or scream in the restaurant. Failure to comply with the above mentioned law will result in severe disciplinary action being taken. Repeat offenders will be thrown into the vat of oil used to fry french fries. Parents of said offenders shall be liable to the cost incurred for the damaged fries inside the vat of oil. So help you God.

It would be cool! Just imagine a conversation between me and a nasty parent:

Me: Sorry ma’am, your son has repeated breached company laws and shall be pu-nished.
Parent: Huh? How ar.
Me: (picks up little boy screaming and all) I shall now throw him into the vat of oil.
Parent: HUH CANNOT!!! HE IZ MY BABY BOI IF U THROW HIM IN HOW HE DIE HOW??!?!?!?
Me: Well too bad ma’am. I have to set an example for future kids. (Throws kid into vat of boiling oil)
Kid: AHHHHHHH!!!……
Parent: AH BOI AH!!!! AHHHHHH! *goes crazy*
Me: Sorry ma’am, you’ve been caught screaming twice in mac donalds. According to company law, I have to throw you into the vat of oil as well. But before I do so, could you please sign this form. It states that you’ll pay us SGD$10,000 for damages to unsold fries and unused oil. (Picks woman up)
Parent: -faints-
Me: Bye fools. (Throws)

Endth.

Living on a prayer

It didn’t seem that long ago when I remember telling my friends who came to me for “priceless” (or was it worthless…?) advice on their relationship/pseudo-relationship/crush/infatuation problems. I vividly remembered telling most, if not all, of them to “follow your heart, because when you think too fucking much (exact words, I sunpa dua lampa), you start to become the bloody JC kid you are, weighing the pros and cons and trying to evaluate everything you do. And anyway your mind’s gay, so fuck it.”

Haha, I remember most of my friends telling me in a few days time that they were glad they followed their hearts. Of course there were the occasional anomalies who told me that they did follow their heart, but apparantly their hearts were gay too, so they’re just fucked. Whoops.

I remember thinking to myself, “Hey there’s nothing really special about love. Either you love the person, or you don’t. Why’re all the morons getting all emo over another person?” But I guess I can put myself in their shoes now.

Love’s a sin, really. It befuddles your mind, it destroys the logical part of your brain and it makes you do things that you’d probably not do in normal times. Love’s a gift from the Devil himself. When you do fall in love with somebody, you don’t care if she’s attached. You don’t bother if she’s Miss Popular or Miss Most Hated. When you fall in love with somebody, you don’t care what others think. When you fall in love with somebody, you lose yourself in the moment and you lose your ability to think logically.

If love’s a sin, and you’re the precursor to sinning, I’d gladly be the sinner.

Of prostituted drummers and little dads.

Due to popular (maybe not so…) demand from Charlotte, here’s the long overdue post regarding a certain prostituted drummer I saw in orchard road on… saturday.

Ok I’ll bet most of my blog readers’ll be intimately familiar with this little boy behind a drumset, banging away and performing his own rendition of a “drum solo” in the middle (right fucking-smack) of orchard road. Personally, I’ve never seen that (supposed) drum virtuoso in action before, so I used to view him as some kind of a prodigy – until I saw the pseudo-prodigy in “action” last Saturday.

Visualise a little scrawny boy, complete with a “Dreamy, I’m-so-fucking-blur-I-don’t-know-what-to-do-because-I’m-just-a-bloody-kid” look on his little kiddy face, dwarfed by his new shiny Zildjian K custom HYBRID cymbals, allegedly free from Zildjian aka yamaha combo shop. Next, visualise his FATHER standing behind him, adjusting his drumset for him, adjusting the discman for him (?!?!?!) before picking up a mic and announcing proudly to the whole fucking crowd that his spawn-of-satan was about to “perform” the next song for the crowd, so would the crowd please clap a little for the boy to encourage him to play and bang away on his drumset loudly.

Now visualise, or in this case audiolise, strands of Planetshakers blaring out from one of the grossly undersized and underpowered amplifiers behind him, to which the little drummer boy picks his cue from, and starts DRUMMING AWAY OUT OF TIME WITHOUT DYNAMIC CONTROL AND WITH NO FUCKING GROOVE AT ALL.

HOORAY FOR NIGHTMARES AND MUSICAL BLASPHEMY. If God was Stanton Moore or Carter Beauford, He’d have smote (?) that little creep right there on the spot along with his pimpin’ father figure, and sent them straight to Hell for the sacrilegious display of “groove”.

What I was amazed at was the fact that Yamaha chose to ENDORSE him with hybrid cymbals just because he’s “Singapore’s Youngest Drummer”. Just because his father threw him in the middle of Orchard Road behind a drumse and told him to “bang around on the drumset” does not make him a drummer. Hell, I could get my cousin’s young son to sit behind my drumset and bang away and call him a drummer too, couldn’t I?

Next, I was disgusted at the way his “father” pimped him to the crowd, calling them on to clap for him, telling them to stay and listen to him play. When I first heard about the little drummer, I thought maybe he was doing it because he genuinely liked it. But after seeing him in action, I realised that he didn’t really have a choice.

Now all you fuckers who’re about to flame me (as usual), read this. Back when you fuck faces were what? 8 – 10 years old? Have you ever said no to your mom or dad when they said they were about to enrol you in ballad class? No? That’s right, because whatever you dipshits said would have NO impact on the outcome – you’d still go for the bloody ballad class.

Similarly, don’t tell me that the little boy had a choice not to play, because he wouldn’t have had a chance to refuse to play. He’d just have to sit down behind his drumset and bang away to please his parents.

Why destroy the peace in orchard road?

Why prostitute a young boy?

Why force us to listen to a young boy who can’t drum for nuts?

Why the FUCK?

Singapore Idle-no-more

The crowd went wild – screaming, jeering, some even crying. Emotions ran high among the audience, and there was more than one dry eye amongst them.

Well I’m sorry, dry eyes may have been a rather rare sight over at Caldecott Hill, but over here in heartlandy Choa Chu Kang, dry eyes were the norm.

It’s finally a singing contest now, and not just stage presence and popularity leading the way. I watched the “fan club” on TV shed tears of sorrow and sadness as Paul was voted off SI, and I wondered to myself, “What the FUCK made the n00bs so blind (deaf?) that they can’t even tell that he CANNOT SING, even if his NUTS depended on it. Urgh.

Well, I’m glad he’s out. It’s a sign, me thinks, with Joakim going out the week before, and Paul going out today. It’s a sign that the general population in Singapore has gone for their annual medical, and in the process have discovered the hearing defect that all seem to have. ENT departments at the various hospitals in Singapore have to be commended for their quick and promt action in handling, and successfully overcoming this aural problem. Kudos to you fellows hur hur.

Oh I just have to add the following:
The reason why Five For Fighting – Superman was such a popular song that DOMINATED the airwaves for a period of time is due to the fact that the lead vocalist’s voice is fucking MIXED to the maxed, and he can switch from his uber voice to his uber fasletto. By downtuning the song and singing it in 100% uber un-l33t voice, the song was completely FUCKED.

Ugh.

Of noisy kids, useless parents and library rats

So I spent approximately an hour (thanks charlotte ) in the library reading. And in this short span of an hour, I’ve grown to categorize library goers into a few general groups, and at the same time, managed to instill this bloodlust in me that screams (no sorry, maybe it’s shouting, I wouldn’t know, I was too mad at that time) “Decapitate all noisy kids. Draw and quarter their charges. Hang them by their necks and let them swing until they breathe no more.”

A little extreme, you might say. But hey, Alvyn says no, and since we all know that Alvyn is king, and that the king’s word is just and right, therefore it isn’t too extreme.

Moving back on track, I’ve classified library goers into a few general groups, namely:

1. The normal kind of library goers (librarus-goeus), who generally are quiet, consciencious of their surroundings, and are really in the library to do reading, or revision. These are the kind of library goers that I Alvyn’s bloodlust level – 0

2. The kind of library goers who sit at a spot, pretend to read, and yak/sms on their handphones, or to their friends (fakus-librarus-goeus). These are the kind of people (usually immature, whiny little teenage kids, who hold on to a book, sit amongst the aisle and yak on their handphones. They usually lack a volume control knob, so their voices are always at the maximum volume. If 2 or more should be placed in the nearby vicinity, noise level doubles and interaction takes place. Alvyn’s bloodlust level – 2

3. Library goers, usually adults, who bring kids along to run around screaming and shouting in the library. (librarus-adultus-moronus) These are the kind of preppy parents who think that by bringing their satanic experiment-gone-wrong spawns to the library, the infomation from the various books will somehow magically (through osmosis me thinks. or probably via blue fucking tooth) enter the minds of their joke-of-a-spawn (or spawns), thus making them smarter. In the process, they neglect the other library goers who’re trying to fucking read a fucking book in the fucking serenity (har har) of the bloody library. Alvyn’s bloodlust level – 4

4. Kids who think that they have a God-given (since when did I give that to them?) right to brag about their apparant amazing knowledge of various kiddy subjects, ranging from ASStronomy to ASStrology. (librarus-kiddus-noobus-wannabus). These little morons really piss me off because they deem fit to tell their parents that they refuse to enter the kiddy section because “Oh my God I’m too good for little kiddy bookies, imma go get myself a book regarding the Wall Fucking Street so imma be a fucking banker when I grow up. Oops, I mean, if Alvyn doesn’t kill me before I get a chance to grow some hair on my balls! Alvyn’s bloodlust level – 4.5

5. Last but not least, adults who bring their kids to the library, thinking its their God-given (again.) right to run around, screaming and shouting. And should they magically fall flat on their kiddy fucking faces, blame it on the nearest person sitting down reading his book, alleging that the alleged leg that was allegedly stuck out at an obnoxious angle allegedly caused the alleged kid to allegedly fall down on the fucking floor. (stupidus-maximus-fuckus) Alvyn’s bloodlust level – Off the fucking chart

So, as you can see, Alvyn’s rather pissed off. And what made things worse was the fact that the library “staff”, note the parenthesises, as I deem it fit NOT to call them staff since they do nothing but sit at the counter marked “Customer Service”, smile at everybody and pretend that they’re busy. Perhaps a criteria for employment was to be deaf and mute, since they apparantly couldn’t hear the racket coming from Choa Chu Kang Library/Market place.

Anyway charlotte, if you’re reading this, I’ll be uploading the photos soon ok. Will send you the links asap.

Now playing:
Breaking Benjamin – Diary of Jane

Even nice guys deserve a break sometimes

Isn’t that true?

Nice guys do deserve a break sometimes. Too often have we neglected the nice guys/girls around us. The ones who’re there when we needed a shoulder to cry on, when we needed a comforting voice, or just a comforting presence. Too often have we not appreciated the efforts of those around us who’ve helped tide us through times of difficulties.

Maybe its the music, maybe its just me, but hey everybody has his personal mountain to conquer, even nice guys. Don’t expect them to be there for you 24/7. If they are, appreciate them. A simple thank you would suffice, really.

If I lay here
If I just lay here
Would you lie with me and just forget the world?

New desktop photo

Click for photo of desktop

This is not a cry for help. This is just my inner demon speaking.

Good Lord, where are You?
If You really do exist,
why don’t You come out of hiding and
do something about this creature in distress?
The prophets have declared Your mercy.
You do reign over our world, they say
You do show concern
for the poor clods of this earth.
Good Lord, prove it!
Look down from wherever You are
on Your creatures wallowing in wretchedness.
Deliver us, O God, set us free!

For your years have no end,
nor do the destinies of those who trust in You

Paper tigers in the woods

Words from the mouths of babes, “<insert certain military rank comprising of 3 downward arrows> all really knn paper tigers nia.”

Every year, the Singapore Armed Forces churns out thousands of specialists and officers from their respective Command Institutes, namely SISPEC (School of Infantry Specialists) and OCS (Ossifer Cadet School). Concurrently, the SAF churns out tenfold the amount of Men from the various vocations – Infantry, Guards, Engineers, Artillery, Armour etc etc.

Now, in my unit, the specialists outnumber the men probably 1.5:1, whereas the men are on par with the ossifers. That’s the only constant. In my unit, the specialists are paper tigers, and some (be glad I didn’t say all) the ossifers are really just there because they got lucky and commissioned.

However, the men went through their Trade Course, got posted into their individual batteries and started learning their respective roles. Right. From. The. Beginning.

Now this post may seem like a rant with no foundation, and I’d agree, it probably is. But pray, dear reader, tell me the logic behind the fact that ossifers are treated like demi-Gods (not Gods, because they’re still worthless NSFs), where individual battery rules do not apply to them? Why are the ossifers running around doing nothing, acting as though they know everything, ultimately trying to claim credit for everything? Why are they given the priviledge to hide in the Ossifers’ Mess when Provost’s raiding the bunks of men and specialists? Did the president of the Republic of Singapore give them a “Get everything you want free” card when they commissioned? Does having one black bar give you the right to treat everything below you like dogs?

Remember, rank applies when we’re in uniform, holding onto our green 11Bs, in camp. When we’ve got our pink ICs, we come under the jurisdiction of the Singapore Police Force. When we’re not in camp, we don’t respect the man. We only respect the rank. When we’re not holding onto our 11Bs, when we’re not wearing size M Hock Sing uniforms, when we fail to see the black bar on said-ossifer’s shoulder epulet, said-ossifer better not pull attitude, or said-ossifer will find himself at the receiving end of something blunt and heavy.

I love the Singapore Idles

So another episode of Singapore Idol just passed, and once again, I felt the compulsive urge to pull out every single strand of my hair, smother myself, and just throw a chair into the television. Oh, not to forget, while screaming “THAT’S NOT ROCK YOU FUCKING MORON.”

Good Charlotte isn’t rock. A Shrek OST is definitely not rock. Downtuning a song to match your (lack of) vocal quality does not equate to being a great singer. Being able to dance, look (act) cute, and make a jack ass out of yourself in national TV does not make you the next Singapore Idle.

Singapore Idle isn’t a competition of looks. It’s a fucking singing competition. Kwai-lo wannabes and underaged cutesy-looking fellows who can’t sing for nuts shouldn’t have even been allowed on stage, much less voted over those who actually posess the vocal qualities.

Good lord Singapore. Wake up and dig your ears, cuz’ its time to listen closely and find out (rudely, maybe) that your “favourite” contestants can’t really sing at all.